mdni Little Red x Werewolf!Toji
18+ OFFICAL MASTER & TAG LIST
🍓"Little Red in Werewolf Toji's Bed"
━ Picking berries and you end up in Toji's cabin and bed.
🍓“Berry-Sweet Tease"
━ Using said berries to tease him. │cw. somnophilia │
🍓"It's the full moon, you know what that means"
━ Full moon's coming up, he tells you to leave but you end up back in his bed anyway.
🍓"Making sure you always smell like him"
━ His wolfie claim on you │cw. rough sex │
🍓Domestic Life With Werewolf!Toji & Part two
━ Cuddling him & Pulling his Tail
🍓Berry Picking with Werewolf!Toji
━ berry picking turning into sex in da woods │cw. outdoor sex │
🍓Mornings & Slow Shower sex
━ slow mornings with the big bad wolf
🍓Brat Tamer! & Part Two
━ y/n gives him attitude and disobeys him & the aftermath
🍓Angst Drabble One!
━ how he handles you being independent without him
🍓Angst Drabble Two!
━ he lowk has abandonment issues
🍓"The Smutty Little Secret"
━ caught reading a smut novel and hiding it from him
🍓"His Weight On You" ━ Fluff Drabble
━ He's just so damn big and cuddly
🍓"Messy when He Eat's" ━ Fluff Drabble
━ no table manners fr
🍓The first time you gave him a Blow-job
━ as the title says
🍓"his new bad habit"
━ first time sniffing your panties~
🍓Toji dealing with you while Ovulating
━ helping y/n through ovulation~
🍓Werewolf!Toji x Little Red x Werewolf!Shiu
━ THREESOME WITH WEREWOLF!SHIU
🍓"useful little helper"
━ not much "help" when he needs it
🍓Laundry Activities
━ laundry and pussy
🍓"Granny's coupons for sex toys"
━ as the title says
🍓His tail teasin'
━ his tail has a mind of its own when it comes to you
🍓"His Little Fox"
━ he makes you his little fox, ears and a tail! to match
Baby You're a Star Masterlist // Pornstar Satoru headcanons
Chapter One - Chapter Two - Chapter Three - Chapter Four - Chapter Five - Chapter Six - Chapter Seven - Chapter Eight
Pairings- Pornstar Satoru x shy f!reader
Summary- You meet Satoru Gojo at a wild Hollywood party, insanely out of place, waiting for your friend to show up. The two of you hit it off, spending time together, and share a kiss, but you're a good girl, and you just don't do this, but he is the top pornstar there is, and the top .01 % on OnlyFans. Once you find out, you know there's probably no match, as Satoru doesn't date, and you don't sleep around, but after meeting, you keep in touch- and soon Satoru can't get hard without thinking of you, and you get over curious, and join a livestream.
Warnings- mentions of sex and sexwork, masturbation, mentions of drug use, weed smoking, Gojo has an OF hehe, lots of longing, pining, Satoru can't get hard if it's not you, whipped ass Satoru, explicit sexual content, angst -
Finished - WC 85k 🫶🏻🫶🏻🫶🏻 Playlist -Ao3 link
Headcanons below!
Pornstar Satoru is one of the most famous pornstars there are, hence him constantly wearing jet black shades and hoodies at times, he never knew just who he'd run into that would recognize him. Whether it's his flicks or his OF - he's the top .01 % - he gets a lot of notice, especially in bustling LA. But, he loves what he does, he especially loves watching his abs flex in the camera as he hits one of his lovely costars from the back.
Pornstar Satoru loves making the costars and girls he collabs with actually cum, where they're shaking and squirting all over his latex covered cock. Not that fake shit like he watches them do with other men- no Satoru makes sure to slam that curved tip against their cervix, to roll his thumb right on their clit with the perfect amount of pressure. Perhaps that's the secret to how famous he really is, along with his good looks.
Pornstar Satoru makes so much money from each shoot and is in high demand, so he can have whoever he wants as a co star. They line up to have a chance at him, watching his videos and aching for a chance to feel his cock hitting them deeper than damn near anyone could hit, to say they got to shoot with the Satoru Gojo. This just makes Satoru fuck them harder, smiling right at that camera, as women dream it's really them that have captured his pretty blue eyed gaze.
Pornstar Satoru thinks it's a pretty damn good life, being rich for fucking beautiful women on camera, as he's inhaling a blunt after a threesome shoot with his best friend - and often costar- Pornstar Suguru, as they talk about who got the girl to squirt more, right in the middle of a bouguie party in East LA. Suguru let's out a throaty laugh, while Satoru narrows his blue eyes. 'I had her cumming so hard she was shaking' he says, taking a hit and handing it back to Suguru. 'Nah, that was all for me, did you see...'
Pornstar Satoru stops listening when he sees you enter the room, completely out of place at the coke filled, booze filled party, wearing a pair of black glasses that cover half of your pretty face, and a little nervous look as you stand there, in a cute white pleated skirt and a big oversized sweater. Satoru smacks Suguru on the shoulder then and he coughs up smoke. 'Shit what is it?' Satoru looks back at you, when you're handed a drink, some guy flirting as you look down shyly. 'Who's she?' Suguru blinks a bit curiously. 'I don't know, she's pretty though'
Pornstar Satoru scowls at Suguru who snorts in laughter then. 'Satoru we don't have 'girlfriends' and she... looks like a good girl' your eyes catch his then, across the room, like something shifts as you smile sweetly, before peering at your phone, biting your lip in concentration. 'I'm talking to her' Suguru chuckles as he watches his friend, and Satoru feels his heart race when he comes too close to you, something he can't say he's felt, even pleasing countless beauties, nothing has quite altered him as your sweet turn of lips, as you look down at your converse, so out of place you're fucking adorable. 'Hey sweetheart... Satoru Gojo' he says, introducing himself with ease, expecting you to maybe notice him, get starstruck, fuck women get wet just near him, but you simply grin, and your name whispers through his mind when it spills from your lips.
Pornstar Satoru has you sitting with him later, you fall into easy conversation, you're a little gamer nerd, you love science and the environment, he just bets you were head of your ecology club in college, which you quickly confirm, all while you're in awe of just how beautiful this man is. He's sweet, he's sexy... you feel he shouldn't even be talking to you. You're pretty but... he's experienced so clearly, by every way he moves, he's worldly, so confident, and you've never really left this little part of LA, but the two of you can't stop talking, to the point you forget what brought you here.
Pornstar Satoru laughs with you, as you're sitting side by side, and he lights up a blunt, leaning back on the burgundy couch on the outskirts of the party, inhaling it deep into his lungs. 'Want a hit, sweets?' he murmurs, you take it nervously, putting it to your lips and inhaling a bit, before coughing, covering your mouth. Satoru chuckles, 'you're cute' earning your cheeks heating up. 'Can you tell I don't do this?' you're nervously tapping your leg now. 'Yeah, what does bring you here, doesn't seem your...' 'my scene?' he nods then. 'yeah, that.'
Pornstar Satoru watches avidly as you sip on your drink, wincing at the strong liquor. 'Well, my friend invited me over, but she's running late' Satoru grins now. 'Party time is different, everyone comes late, that's on time. About fifteen minutes late' 'oh no I came early!' you smack your own forehead, giggling along with him. 'Are you like... a model, or an actor?' you ask, eyeing him and his baby blues, the cheekbones so perfect, those lips that wrap the blunt again. 'You could say I'm a bit of both,' he muses, then spits out his drink when you ask 'what are you in!?'
Pornstar Satoru coughs just a bit, he's never been ashamed of what he does, but he's nervous for some reason to tell you. Why, he doesn't know. 'I'm... into some indie flicks' you brighten up then. 'Oh, let me know, I love lowkey films! I bet you're great' Satoru sighs, gulping down the rest of his drink and eyeing your cup. 'Want more?' you frown now, maybe you're asking too much, or offending this actor that you don't recognize him!? You nod, the amount of people around you making you press against this friendly, pretty white haired stranger just a little more.
Pornstar Satoru has another drink, eyeing the sea of bodies undulating in the extravagant mansion, and soon the two of you are dancing together you're cute and so awkward, Satoru's enjoying this far, far too much. He has plenty of costars and fans come up to the two of you, but he's too interested in showing you how to move your hips to pay them any mind, when finally your friend comes. Satoru instantly recognizes her, she's a pretty famous co star he's collabed with on her Onlyfans not long ago. When she sees you giggling and enjoying yourself so much, she damn near drags you away, making Satoru curse.
Pornstar Satoru eyes you when your friend whispers in your ear- 'you really don't recognize him!?' you blink curiously, looking at him more closely. 'Should I?' she sighs then, eyeing Satoru up and down. 'He was in my OF videos, we collabed' you heat up furiously then. 'I never watched your videos! I just subbed to be supportive!' she giggles. 'You're so cute, I thought you at least watched some?' you shake your head nervously. 'I don't really watch, is he... like an OnlyFans guy?' Satoru is back over with Suguru now, while you sip your drink, feeling your body warm up. 'He's the top pornstar there is, the collab was like a dream. He's really sweet but you should know is all, you're kinda...' you glare. 'kinda what?' she giggles again. 'you're just... sweet, emotional, is all'
Pornstar Satoru expects you to be done with him once you find out, after all you just seem innocent, uncorrupted for this city, not the kind of girl to be at this party where lines are being snorted off bodies, and people are naked and jumping in the pools, a heady, wild atmosphere. But you smile at him, as you murmur - 'he's sweet?' to your friend. She nods then. 'He is, but just know... he doesn't date so, it'd only be physical' you frown at that now, that's not something you think you can do, you're about as demisexual as it gets, hence your very limited experience. 'He doesn't date at all?' Your friend gently touches your shoulder. 'No, love, I'd hate to see you hurt'
Pornstar Satoru catches you before you leave later that night, when you are just feeling too out of place, his big hand wrapped around your delicate wrist, earning you looking up at him. He can't stop thinking how pretty your eyes would look rolled back, how good your lips would feel wrapped around his cock, as you relax a bit, turning and looking up. 'Headed out already?' he asks softly, you flush as you remember just what he does for a living, your friend had just described his cock in far too vivid detail. 'It's not really my thing, but I'm glad we met, Gojo' you smile so cute then, leaning up and pecking him on the cheek, his arm wraps your waist as he leans down, inhaling that sweet vanilla scent cloying to your skin.
Pornstar Satoru pulls you in closer, blue eyes staring under snowy lashes. 'Can I... get your number?' Satoru has never asked for a number a day in his life, but he delights in watching you shift nervously, nodding as you tuck your hair behind your ear. 'Yeah, I'd like that' he exchanges numbers, tilting your chin up then, watching the way your eyes dilate, the color spread on your pretty cheeks. 'She told you?' you clear your throat, nodding a bit, still being captured by his fingers. 'I don't judge at all, Gojo, I'd still like to be... friends...' your whisper is met with the most subtle kiss on your lips, shooting desire hot and heavy until Satoru releases you, plump lips smirking- 'sure, sweets, we can be friends'
Pornstar Satoru can't get you off his mind, the feel of your skin on his, the sweet sigh against his lips. He is on a big shoot and - the Satoru Gojo that never gets soft - is having trouble keeping it up, to the amusement of his costar Pornstar Sukuna. Satoru scowls at his comments, just picturing your sweet lips against his for that brief moment. A man who just fucks and fucks, and doesn't feel, is hung up just on some fucking kiss. He has to take a break after pleasing his costar with his fingers, she's cumming so much she doesn't notice, but the directors wonder why he's off. He's in his own dressing room, eyeing the phone, hands shaking as he decides to type a message - 'could you give me a picture, sweets, to save as your caller id?'
Pornstar Satoru finds his cock is right back on hard when you send one quickly, just a cute selfie with a little peace sign, but he sees your glossy fucking lips, the teeth indentations he aches to rub the tip of his cock on, along with just a hint of your breasts. Your nipples press against the thin material of your little tee shirt- Pokemon, he notices, smiling- his cock throbbing. 'Can I get one too?' you're biting that lower lip nervously as you ask, getting a picture of him shirtless then, doing nothing to stifle the curiosity in your mind, your heart racing as you seee his body. 'You at a shoot?' you ask in the messages, he hesitates before answering - 'yes' - and somehow you feel jealous of whoever his costar is. You message a - kill it, Gojo! - despite the feeling in your tummy, little do you know you're drowning his fucking mind when he performs later, feeling the star squirting all over his latex covered cock.
Pornstar Satoru can't stop texting you that week, he can't even get hard if he doesn't look at that picture, and you can't stop your curiosity, when you friend mentions he's doing a live stream. Since Satoru can hardly perform, he's decided to masturbate on live cam, in minutes making more than he'd make in a shoot, all while having your picture propped up. People are chatting, watching, dollars by the hundreds being tipped every moment, fuck he's making way more than he usually would, and he can think of you. He laughs softly, abs flexing as he hits the right angle, reading the comments, making you dripping wet, this isn't what you do!?
Pornstar Satoru is stroking his wet, slick cock that's glistening, up and down with his huge hand, and you feel your pussy clench, breath coming faster, unsure whether to look away or keep staring, meanwhile he's picturing you in all sorts of positions, on your knees, a fucking mating press. He's shutting his eyes for a moment, grinning as the viewers go crazy. 'I know, it's pretty, huh?' he spits right on that long, veiny cock of his, pinching his pink tip and whining, white lashes fluttering open right when he sees a familiar name enter the chat.
Your name.
Pornstar Sukuna hcs here // Pornstar Suguru hcs here // Onlyfans Nanami hcs here
Kofi link (if you feel generous & wanna buy me a ☕️
nanami yells at his poor girlfriend for something that wasn't even her fault :( (angst to comfort!)
wc: 4k || ac: @/thatsallitcheif || based on this req !
nanami was pissed the fuck off.
not the boring kind of snappy attitude he got whenever he was forced to deal with gojo or yuji, no. he was properly upset, his anger evident in the way his temples look ten times as tense as he swings the door to your shared apartment open.
today was... rough, to say the least.
some idiot in his business class had been assigned as his partner, a group project that was supposed to show just how much attention you'd been paying to the course. y'know, something he actually gave a shit about?
and that partner, god if he wasn't a useless prick. he skipped meetings, turned in half-assed work at the checkpoints, and acted like nanami would just fix it. like this seriously didn’t matter.
and then the feedback today? oh god.
it definitely wasn't stellar, definitely not the standard nanami holds himself to. his lecturer was pointing out gaps, weak cohesion, a lack of balance. just stupid little bullshit things that weren't even his fault.
nanami had sat there, his jaw close to exploding from the way he was clenching it so tight, knowing he couldn’t say a word without sounding weird and defensive.
so yeah, he came home with bucket loads of irritation and absolutely nowhere to put it. well, yet.
he wipes a veiny hand down his face as he scuffs his shoes off at the door, praying to god that nothing else goes wrong tonight or he might actually kill someone.
as he tracks inside, what other than the kamisama kiss intro starts blaring in his ears, the happy upbeat tune dragging against his eardrums, he realllly didn't need this right now.
he peers over to the couch and spots you sitting cross legged fully engrossed in the shower.
you were cute, but to be honest, he just wanted to go to bed. so, when you whip your head around and spot that he's finally home, he braces for the impact he knows is coming.
you hop up and dart into his arms with the biggest little smile on your pretty face, you clasp your hands together behind his back and pull him in close.
"ken! i missed you." you muffle into his chest, relived to see your boyfriend after a long day of free periods at home.
he sighs through clenched teeth, then half heartedly wraps an arm around your waist before letting it drop back down and slipping from your tight grasp.
“hey,” he mumbles, already tracking halfway down the hallway, leaving his poor, pouty girlfriend standing there all confused.
he doesn't notice though, the door to the bedroom is already in his sight and he looks at it like a finish line.
you stay cemented to the wooden floor, watching with a small frown as he pads down to the bedroom.
you tell yourself not to read into it. i mean, c'mon! he probably had a long lecture, he looks exhausted, and everyone has off days, after all. even your perfect boyfriend.
you smooth it over in your head before you overthink it to the point of tears.
you turn and follow him down the hall, keeping your steps feather light as to not irritate him further. "hey, baby? i made sushi earlier,” you say softly. “it’s in the fridge. i thought you might want some when you got home?"
he stops just short of the bedroom door. not to turn to you, not to soften up and cut the foul attitude, nuh uh. just to answer dully.
“i’ll have it for lunch tomorrow,” he sighs. “m' not hungry.”
the door handle clicks open under his hand, and your chest gets all tight and uncomfortably achy. he never turns down the food you make. never. even when he’s exhausted, he always eats at least a little. he always thanks you and asks how long it took to make, then tells you it tastes good even when the rice is overcooked.
you nod even though he isn’t looking and force a brighter tone of voice. “oh, okay! that’s alright.”
he stays silent, and an old habit of filling up conversation space before it turns awkward twists around in your gut..
“um,” you start, then stop. your fingers rub together nervously as you look away from him shyly. “there’s.. uh, something else i gotta tell you.”
he turns his head slowly to face you, his expression oozing with irritation as he answers curtly, “what.”
your thoughts jump backwards to earlier that morning. you were ironing one of his more expensive shirts after it had been crinkled on the clothes line. the setting might've been too high, because the unfamiliar scent of burnt fabric started wafting into your nostrils... your heart dropped when you saw the mark.
you swallow. “i’m really sorry. i was ironing your shirt. the one you wear to class sometimes? and i didn’t realise the heat was too high and i… i messed it up.”
his expression doesn’t change yet, but you can tell some cogs are stalling and jamming in that big head of his.
“i ordered you a new one,” you rush on. “it's the same cut, the same color. it should be here in a couple of days... gosh– i'm so sorry honey, i– i know it won’t be exactly the same but i–"
“you did what.”
your words freeze up in your mouth.
“you burnt my shirt?" he spits lowly, “i told you not to iron my clothes, [name].”
your shoulders pull in. “i know. i just thought i could help. i didn’t think–"
“–clearly.”
oh.
he steps closer. not into your space, but near enough that you feel the heat and anger pulsating off of him. “do you have any idea how expensive that shirt was?"
you nod, feeling the anxiety crawl up your back and down your throat. "yes, baby... that’s why i replaced it.”
“oh, but you didn’t replace it,” he says. “you bought a different one. that's not the same thing.”
“i'm sorry,” you say quietly. “i didn't know where–”
“you never know,” he cuts in. his voice is getting louder now, he's no longer being careful with his volume. “that’s the problem, [name]. you never know, and you still insist on getting involved in all of my important shit.”
you ears begin to ring a deafening hum. this isn’t how he talks to you. not ever. he corrects you sometimes, sure. maybe he gets semi-annoyed, but even then it's very rare. but this tone, this anger? it feels so horribly wrong on him..
“I was trying to do something nice,” you mumble out softly, the nervousness you were sure you'd shaken since meeting him curling around your head and trapping you in that shy vice once more. “i.. i’m sorry i ruined your shirt, kento..”
“yeah? well sorry doesn’t fix it,” he snaps. “sorry doesn’t mean anything when you keep doing the same thing over and over.”
your lips are getting wobbly but you manage to choke out a small reply. “but.. i don’t?"
he lets out a curt, poisonous laugh. “don’t lie. you mess things up constantly. the chores, my things, the schedules. i spend half my time fixing what you fuck up.”
okay, wow. that hurt like a motherfucker. you'd always been a little insecure about the way you weren't always the best at house work, but you were trying. you were trying for him.
“I clean,” you plea. “i cook. i try to–”
“no! you try, then you do it badly,” he snaps. his voice is close to shouting now. “half the time i redo your shit because i don’t trust you to do it right the first time. i’ve told you this before, if you don’t know what you’re doing, stay out of it!"
all of this over a shirt?.. your poor mind was reeling with what ifs. what if this was him finally throwing the cat out of the bag and telling you he wanted to break up? what if this was his way of telling you he'd be better off with a girl who was more capable? what if this was all a big lead up to him telling you you were never good enough to be with such an upstanding man like him?
each cruel word from his mouth only acts as a catalyst to these thoughts. you were incompetent, useless, untrustworthy. he doesn’t say them outright, but he might as well with the way he's berating you.
you feel so small now, your clammy hands curl into themselves until your nails are leaving little moons in your skin. you don’t raise your voice at him, you don’t interrupt at all, and you most definitely don't even think of arguing back. you’ve never been good at fighting with people, especially not with him. especially not when he looks at you like you’re an obstacle he needs to kick out of the way.
“just leave everything to me, why don't you?” he continues. “obviously i don't do enough. it would be easier that way since you clearly can’t handle basic tasks without ruining shit.”
your eyes sting. you blink hard, but it doesn’t help, like, at all. the hot streaks down your flustered face is evidence of that...
this doesn’t feel real. nanami is kind, nanami is patient, nanami listens, nanami's kind. the man in front of you is mean and cruel and doesn’t seem to see you as his loving girlfriend at all.
“I didn’t mean to make things harder for you,” you whisper.
he only scoffs. “intent doesn’t matter. results do. and your results are always a fucking problem.”
you want to dissolve into a puddle on the floor, you want to curl up somewhere and hide away from this monster disguised as your once living boyfriend. you don’t defend yourself, you don’t tell him how much effort you try to put in, how careful you try to be. you don’t remind him of the mornings you wake early just to make his day smoother, you don’t point out that he never used to talk to you like this.
you just stand there, and you take it. this was so unbelievable, so new, you didn't know how else to handle it.
and he just keeps on going. every frustration from his day pours out, redirected and sharpened, pointed straight at you. the partner who didn’t pull his weight, the criticism he didn’t deserve, the sense of being judged for things outside his control. it all lands on you instead, because you’re here, because you won’t fight back, because you look like you can carry it.
and you do. for a while.
your eyes go all blurry from the way tears prick at your lids, your gaze plummets to the floor and your hands start to shake. you hate how badly you're taking this, how he can obviously see that you're terrified but he just won't stop.
after it feels like he's gotten it all outta his system, he finally stops talking. the words dry up, leaving a thick silence behind in both his throat and the air. his chest is heaving as the anger drains out, replaced by a horrible, innate awareness.
what did he just do?
his head shoots up to look at your face wet with tears, then to your hands and the way they shake, to your eyes as they dart anywhere but him. his girlfriend, his gentle girl, looking like she'd just been battered, standing there all scared..
because of him.
fuck.
he opens his mouth to say your name, to apologise, to explain, but he never gets the chance.
because you push him away before he can, your hands come up and push against his chest, not hard, but forceful enough that he gets the memo.
“don’t,” you say. your voice cracks pathetically. “just.. just leave me alone.."
then you turn and dart the rest of the way down the hall.
the bedroom door closes behind you with a soft, careful sound, like you don’t want to make anything worse, even now, after he'd just rebuilt every wall you'd managed to break down with him when it came to you opening up.
~
“my sweet girl… please open the door…”
you'd been locked away in the bed room for a little over an hour now, hiding from him.
his voice comes through the wood much softer than of the foul shit you’d heard from him tonight. he sounds worn down and stripped bare of all the angst he'd been harbouring beforehand. you sit on the edge of the bed with your knees pulled up to your chest, staring at the door with a forlorn expression.
you don’t move and you most certainly don’t answer.
from the other side of the barrier, nanami stands with his forehead pressed to the wood, feeling like every bad person in the world all at once.
“i know you don’t wanna see me,” he says quietly. “i get that. i deserve it.” he sighs softly. “but please… just listen. you don’t have to say anything. just… let me say this, sweetheart.”
you don't reply once more, the apartment feels too big and roomy without you in it, even though you’re only a few steps away.
“i’m sorry,” he huffs out quietly, his soft spoken self coming back out into the open. “i’m so fucking sorry. i should have never spoken to you like that. not ever. i don’t care how bad my day was, i don’t care how angry i felt, none of it excuses what i said to you.”
he gulps down the stinging in his lungs and persists.
“what i said was so cruel. it was disgustingly wrong. it was aimed to hurt you, and i knew that while i was doing it. and that’s the part that makes me feel sick to my stomach.”
you stay silent, but your ears are definitely pricked.
“i took everything i was feeling and i threw it at you because you were there. because you wouldn't yell back. and that’s disgusting of me.” his voice dips. “i made you feel small. i made you feel useless. i made you feel like a burden in your own home.”
you press your face into your knees. your eyes start to sting all over again.
“but baby, you are none of those things,” he says a tad louder because he needs you to hear this part clearly. “not even close. i don’t know how i let that shit come out of my mouth when the truth is the complete opposite.”
he exhales slowly, gathering himself just to let go again.
“today's class was rough. just stupid thing after another, more stupider thing.” a pause. “and i came home already angry, already looking for somewhere to drill it.”
his voice breaks a little. “and i took it out on you.”
another fill of quiet and you still don’t make a sound nor open the door.
“i love you,” he mumbles desperately. “i love you so much it seriously scares me. im not usually one for relationships, but i told myself i'd try my best with you, because you mean more to me than anyone else..." his voice cracks like he might cry. "and tonight... i acted like someone who doesn’t deserve you at all."
his forehead stays against the door and his shoulders sink.
“everything i said about you not doing enough… about you ruining things… i don’t believe any of it. not for a second. i was lashing out, i was trying to hurt something because i was hurt.”
he lets out a strangled sound that might of been a laugh if it didn’t flatline only a second after sounding.
“you cook for me every single day. you make food that reminds me to slow down and actually eat instead of skipping meals like an idiot. you clean even when i tell you not to worry about it. you organise my class notes when i forget. you remember my deadlines better than i do. you wake up early just to see me off with a smile like i’m the best part of your morning.”
your fingers shake into the blanket beneath you.
“you ironed that shirt because you wanted to help me,” he continues. “because you thought about me while i wasn’t even home. and i stood there and tore you apart for it.”
his voice drops lower. “i’m appalled by myself. truly. i never wanted to be the kind of man who raises his voice at you. i never wanted to be the reason you look scared in your own house.”
he shifts on the floor outside, the faint sound of him sitting down against the door.
“you do so much for me,” he says softly. “you do more than i made it out to look. you make this place feel like a home, you make me feel so steady when everything else is a chaotic mess. and i stood there and told you that what you do doesn't matter..."
his hand lifts and presses flat again to the door, right where your back would be if you were standing there.
“i am so, so sorry my love."
his apology pours through the door and it feels earnest and aching, but it doesn’t erase what’s already been said. the words he used still sit under your skin, sharp and lodged deep in your pumping arteries.
outside, nanami closes his eyes with a deep breath, he knows there’s no guarantee you’ll forgive him. he knows apologies don’t rewind time, and he knows he might have undone months, maybe years, of trust he'd built between the two of you, especially with such a shy girl, in a single night.
his throbbing head drifts softly to the first time he met you. you were timid, you spoke softly and avoided all of his eye contact, you were careful with everything you did. he remembers promising himself he’d never be another voice that made you shrink away like a snail into its shell.
yet tonight, he was 10x worse than that.
he stays there, back against the door, replaying every sentence he'd spat down at you. every moment he could have stopped and didn’t. every chance he had to walk away instead of cutting you down.
“i’ll wait,” he says quietly, not sure if you’re still listening. “as long as you need. i’m not going anywhere.”
...
the door clicks, then slides open gently leaving nanami's back without a rest.
"baby?" he flicks his head around, now looking up at a very sad, yet very pretty girl.
he practically jumps to his feet, flattening down his shirt and running a hand through his hair.
“are you okay?” he asks quietly like he’s afraid the question alone might do some more irreversible damage.
you can't muster up and answer, you don't try to tell him something you're not even sure of yourself, so you stay quiet looking up into his solemn eyes.
he spots a dried track of salt running down your cheek and his arm reaches up instinctively to wipe it away. after, you gently push his arm away, but too keen on him thinking he can touch you just yet.
“i’m fine,” you say. your voice is steady, even if it doesn’t quite match how you feel. “really.”
he nods, even though it’s obvious he doesn’t believe you, not one bit. he drops his hand back to his side like he’s been reminded of his place.
“i’m sorry,” he chirps again. “i know i already said it. i just… i need you to know i mean it.”
the way nanami looked right now would send your past self into a coma. he was shrunk into himself, his eyes were hollow from stressing out over you, and his voice was shaken and impossibly weak. still. even if he was sorry, the fact that he'd done what he did still remained.
“i don’t forgive you,” you say honestly.
he flinches, just a little. but he doesn’t interrupt.
“not yet,” you add. “but i don’t want to shut you out either. i just… i need some space from what you said.”
he lets out a big exhale with relief and guilt all tangled together. “that’s more than okay,” he says. “i understand, honey. completely.”
he steps forward then, giving you time to move away if you want to. when you don’t, his big, grounding arms slither around your shoulders and hold you tenderly against his chest.
you let yourself melt into him, after this hell of a night you needed some tlc, even if it was from the very root of your discomfort.
“i’m taking tomorrow off,” he says softly, chin resting near your hair. “no class, or homework, nothing. m' gonna spoil you, baby. i promise you."
you pull away to look up at him. “ken., you don’t have to do that.”
he gives a small shake of his head. “i know. this isn’t about getting back on your good side.” his mouth curves into something gentle. “i just want to. i want to spend the day with you. i want to make it a good one after all of the pain i just put you through.”
you shyly mumble, “you don’t need to spoil me.”
“yes, but i want to,” he replies simply. “please, let me.”
his hands come up to frame your face, the pass of his thumbs resting along your cheeks as he strokes lines down where your tears would of fallen.
“i hate that i made your pretty little face look like this,” he murmurs. “i hate that i put that look in your eyes. you deserve softness, my love...not that..”
your lips inch upwards into a small smile despite the situation, and you look him in the eye for half a second.
he notices right away and of course, his own smile follows gently.
“there it is,” he murmurs, brushing his thumb along your flushed cheem. “that smile. i love that smile.”
he leans in and presses a kiss to your cheek, his stubble tickling your chin.
“i’m sorry,” he whispers again, another kiss following. “i’m so sorry.”
he guides you back toward the bedroom with a hand at your back, he helps you sit on the bed, then gently encourages you to lie back. his movements are nice and kind, so attentive, he’s really making sure every step feels safe and familiar.
he leans his big muscular body over yours as he peppers small kisses over your delicate skin.
“i’ll never talk to you like that again, okay?” he says quietly between kisses. “never. i don’t care what kind of day i’ve had, you are not where my anger belongs, and i am so sorry for ever getting that mixed up."
you look up at him with shiny eyes. “you.. you really scared me,” you admit.
his expression softens further, if that’s even possible at this point. “i know. and i hate that. i swear to you, i will spend every day making sure you never feel like that with me ever again.”
he presses his forehead to yours, “you’re not a burden,” he insists. “you’re not useless. you’re the best part of my life, [name]. and i am so grateful you didn’t walk away from me tonight even though you had every right to. hell, you still do."
you reach up, fingers curling lightly into his shirt. “i just… need time.”
he nods. “take all of it. anything you need. i’ll be right here.”
pulling you into his side after rolling over, his arm rests tightly around you in such a way that feels protective without being overwhelming and possessive.
“tomorrow, i’ll take you wherever you want. we’ll eat whatever you want. we’ll do whatever you want, we'll do nothing if that’s what you need.” he assures you, sighing contently into your neck.
you let go of a small "mhm." in response, your sore, puffy eyes finally starting to close.
“thank you,” you whisper.
he kisses your hair. “always.”
he might of been an asshole who misplaced his anger, and he might of been the single most asshole-ish guy in the universe tonight, but when a man like nanami makes a mistake? you best belive he never, ever makes it again.
that's why you stay curled up in his arms as he strokes your back gently. you could tell he meant every word of the apology, and you knew that this was a one time thing.
nanami wasn't the prefect boyfriend, but after that night, he promised himself he'd be the closest thing to it. for you, his sweet, gentle girl.
A/N first request done, 9 to go ! mean nanami is so yum i lava him 🤞🏼
Synopsis. Your milkshakes aren’t bringing all the boys bulls to the yard? You’ve never been properly fúcked through your heats? Don’t worry, there’s a new bull hybrid on the farm - Toji Fushiguro. And he promises to milk you dry.
Pairing. Toji Fushiguro x Reader
Content. MDNI, fem!cow hybrid!reader, bull hybrid!Toji, farm AU, hybrids AU, farmer!Shiu cameo, RÚTS, feraI Toji, he’s kept away, face-sítting, oraI (fem rec.), spítting, fíngering, manhandIing, overstím, he’s BIG, making it fit, p sIapping, p talking, mean Toji, tummy buIges, Toji with níppIe píercings, heat-inducing, first times (for you), vírginíty Ioss, ROUGH s, tail-pulling, running from it, dúmbifícation, BRÉEDING, matíng presses, Iactation, drinking it, creampíes, cúmpIay, implied marathon, slight exhíbitionísm, pet names, swéaring.
Word count. 12.8k
A/N. ALRIGHT ALRIIIIIIIGHT- inspired by this tiktok by the gorgeous @/v4mpyrf4e (an absolute sweetheart, tysm for letting me write this) and to all the babygirls who summoned me there <33
“Another bull hybrid?” Shiu growls into his phone, listening to the conversation crackling from the other end of the line. “A Japanese Shorthorn at that?”
Those things were huge…
With a hand on his hip, he casts a thoughtful look out into the horizon. The beaming, bustling, sun-baked farm; amongst the tufts of grass, Shiu’s hybrids grazed, occasionally flicking their ears in the direction of the conversation. All but one of them.
In the shade of the overlarge crimson barn, he could spot you dozing away in the shade—one of his proudest purebred cows.
“No- no, I hear you.” He listens to farmer Kusakabe’s begging, “It’s not a space issue, it’s just…” Shiu hesitates, throwing yet another glance your way. Still dazed. Still exhausted. “It’s just that one of my cow hybrids- yes, her- fine, my favorite, just finished her heat. And I was worried that introducing a new bull would…”
A few more pleas.
Until, ultimately, the farmer sighs.
“Fine…send this Toji over then.”
“Oh, thank fuck! You have no idea how much I appreciate it, man.” Kusakabe bellows in celebration, and Shiu’s forced to lean his head away from the speaker if ever he valued his ear drums.
Atsuya Kusakabe was a farmer specializing in hybrids just like Shiu was, though his friend had taken it a step further and raised only bulls on his farm. Though he really did reconsider this friendship when the other was trying to pawn off one of his biggest bulls on him for a few days.
In his bemused wonderment at his friend, Shiu almost doesn’t register the soft nudge of something against his open palm. Something warm, something silky. He snaps his head down- and a sudden smile spreads across his face as he realizes just who it was.
You’d wandered off from your cosy lil’ corner, and cuddled up to him leisurely.
“Hey there, girlie.” Shiu whispers, reaching his fingers up to scratch behind your ecstatic ears. You weren’t quite the social hybrid, even amongst your own kind. Always frolicking by yourself when let out to graze, always straying behind the group after milking.
Shiu couldn’t even tease enough out of you (not even half a bucket!) when compared to the rest of the cows here. But the thing is, you seemed perfectly content with your few close attachments on the farm, your few friends, your rejection of many bulls (and trust that the attempts to woo were many). And whether that was because you’d grown too attached to him, whether that was just the way you were - he didn’t exactly mind.
He knew he shouldn’t have favorites, and yet…here you were.
“Feeling all better?” He’s asking, and you’re nodding languidly. Still tired, then. This season’s heat had been as powerful as ever - out of all his hybrids, it was safe to say that you had one of the strongest.
The neediest.
The sultriest.
Which wouldn’t even have been notable if you’d just let another bull hybrid mount you through them to ease the urges, perhaps even result in a cute lil’ calf for his farm- but that was exactly the problem.
You didn’t.
Shiu couldn’t even count on two hands how many times he’d tried to pair you off with one of his bulls - and each time had ended in a disaster. Either you’d barricaded yourself in another part of your barn room, or you’d claw your way outside altogether. Each and every time, Shiu would check on you in the middle of your heats to find that you were in the throes of your desires, fiddling with nothing but the toys he’d gifted you, and his sullen bulls would be pouting n’ pushed off to one side. Useless, really.
No matter how needy you were, you just wouldn’t take to them. And it wasn’t that they were particularly weak, or unattractive - there was Ino who you’d just ended up chatting through your heat with, Kashimo and Ijichi who you’d both kicked out, Takaba who you didn’t even look at, Naoya who you…
Yeah, he didn’t want to think about the beaten-up state you’d left Naoya in. It made him laugh.
He wondered who the problem was - those bulls that couldn’t woo you properly, or you who couldn’t be wooed.
He blamed the bulls.
And he’s patting the top of your head tenderly, carefully avoiding the slight protrusions of your horns that were oh-so-sensitive. Mutterly absent-mindedly, “It’s alright, it’s alright. Trust that we’ll find you a proper mate next year, girlie.”
You can only nod unsurely, gesturing at his phone. “Someone’s talking, Shiu.”
“Huh? Oh someone’s-” Oh, right, he was in the middle of his call still. He’d almost forgotten. Shiu tunes into the latest of Kusakabe’s spiel, and it didn’t seem like he’d missed out on anything too important—
“-had no idea what I was going to do for the few days I’d be in Tokyo for the Hybrid Farms Convention, I’ll pick him up right on my way back from there.”
“Mhm, sounds good.” He rattles off.
“You can keep him anywhere you like, to be honest. He doesn’t have any specific requirements, he’s just as sturdy as he is massive- hah! Though, I do give Toji a separate room of his own from the others…just in case.”
“Mhmmm.”
“My apprentices will be taking care of it while he’s gone, all ready for that big boy to be back.”
“Mhmmm.” Shiu lightly furrows his brows—if he has apprentices, and he has other bulls he’s leaving behind, then why did he need to leave Toji in particular with Shiu again? Oh, whatever…
“And you remember what I said earlier, right?”
Well, he wasn’t really listening but…“Mhm-”
“You have to keep an eye on Toji while he’s in rut.”
“Mh-” Shiu’s eyes bug out of his scalp, his knees grow a little weak, and he damn near drops his phone- oh, too late. He’s already dropped his phone down into the green grass below, startling you in the process. “While he’s in what?”
.
.
.
Name: Toji Fushiguro
Age: 30’s (approx.)
Hybrid type: Bos taurus
Height: 6’2+
Weight class: 1600kg - 1800kg.
Other notes: Subject has a sleek black coat, high intelligence, and a somewhat temperamental demeanour. He will insult you if it comes to infringing upon his freedom. Does not care for medical exams. Continuous horn growth that shows evidence of strong fighting capabilities, fatal power, and weapon-like appendages. It should be noted that the subject is of a larger size even amongst Bos taurus (in particular, the Nambu shorthorn bulls) and needs larger spaces of leisure than most. Take care to handle, needs multiple handlers.
Shiu’s face only grows pale as he reads down the medical sheet, quickly flicking his eyes to the very end so that he might be able to spare himself some of the torture.
-particularly powerful ruts with the urge to breed. According to the handler, it is noted that the subject has not spent a rut in the presence of a mate.
Even paler.
To emphasize, he is unmated.
And paler.
And currently nearing his rut.
For the second time in the past 24 hours (which isn’t many times, but it’s strange that it’s happened twice) Shiu’s fingers drop whatever he was holding in shock. Diligently, you’re right beside the farmer to pick up the piece of paper and hand it to him - giggling when he drops it for a third time.
Though, it was by sheer miracle that he doesn’t just faint right then and there.
Oh—he catches a glimpse of Kusakabe’s large white cattle trailer backing up into his hybrid pen and can feel himself teetering already. Thankfully, you were right there to nudge your head against his frame in support, slightly worried for the human man.
Because not only was Toji said to be nearing his merciless rut, but according to the medical sheet that his friend (‘friend’ hah!) had handed to him, he was unmated?
Makes sense, Kusakabe’s farm specialized in bulls.
But perhaps if Toji had a mate then the cow hybrids of this farm would be safe- he casts a sidelong look your way. Perhaps you - with your still-sweetened pheromones, and your even sweeter demeanour - would be safe.
“N-nothing-” The farmer places a hand on your head and pats, faintly. “Nothing at all, don’t you worry about a thing, girlie.”
Ah, well…Shiu thinks to himself, watching as the truck finally finishes reversing, and Kusakabe (that bastard!) slides out of the driver’s seat to open up the towering steel door in the back. It looked so massive compared to the admittedly above-average man, and that only made Shiu’s tension increase twofold at what may be lurking behind those metal gates.
Ones that seem to burst open with a roaring screeeech—
“Oh, shit.” His mouth was desert-dry, his grip unyielding on you who’d been angling your head to get a better look. “Oh, shit.”
Because Toji Fushiguro was massive.
Dominating.
So many thousands of kilograms of a hybrid that sauntered smugly out of the trailer, as if he owned it. As if he owned this entire farm and everyone in it.
The rest of the hybrids were drawn in by the commotion, turning their curious eyes towards the refined horns that gleamed as they entered the light. Towards the thundering ground. The powerful flank. The polished coat. The single golden ring ‘round his nostrils.
And you had to admit that you didn’t expect him to be so…handsome.
All ruggedly scarred lips from his tussles, and a face that seemed to be carved by the heavens above. You let your widened peripherals glide down the smooth skin of his front; all broad shoulders, prominent pecs, the cutest golden hoops pierced through his pink nipples, and abs for days. He shakes his shaggy black bangs out of his gaze.
Those smug verdant eyes that take one look your way - the way that Shiu had his possessive hold on you - and narrow.
Kusakabe startles as his prized bull hybrid suddenly stops in his tracks, his grip on his leash slightly faltering. And it seems that everyone within the pen holds their breath as a low huff of gruff displeasure leaves Toji, scorching hot fury reaching where you were.
Jaw clenching.
Eyes flashing.
He lowers his horned head as if he was about to-
“Ah ah-” Kusakabe’s the one to break through the charged tension on the farm with his command. He tugs on Toji’s firm leash, though, as a farmer, Shiu thinks he could see the slight waver in his movements.
Toji’s rumbling in refusal, tugging against the restraints. And Kusakabe’s nearly thrown off his feet- before he’s holding onto the side of the truck for balance, pulling the bull hybrid away from where his sights were set. “Easy, boy, easy.” He’s looking at you two with an apologetic smile, “Sorry, he’s just a bit excited with the ru-”
“Ahem ahem ahem-” Shiu suddenly coughs, cutting off the other man. “Better get him settled inside his enclosure, Kusakabe. Don’t want any more trouble now…”
“Ah- right, right.”
And with a slight swat at Toji’s flank, he’s fighting against the hybrid to guide him towards that lil’ enclosure made specifically for him. Shiu had taken care to section it off from the rest of the pen where the cows were, with hardy wooden tree trunks that composed the fences. And not one, but two padlocks that Kusakabe seems relieved to lock once he’s managed to get him inside.
Hands slightly shaking where Toji breathes hotly down his neck, black tail flicking in irritation.
“Calm down, calm down.” The farmer wasn’t sure whether he was telling it to Toji or himself- finally finishing off with the locks and looking up at him. “Now- you be a good boy, alright. Don’t give Shiu any trouble, don’t fight too hard with the other bulls- no use in telling you not to fight, I know you won’t listen to that anyway, and no matter what-”
Toji raises an unimpressed brow as Kusakabe raises a directing finger.
“-no going overboard with your rut.”
“And what exactly does ‘overboard’ mean?” Shiu wearily nears the special pen, arms carefully lifted off of you and wrapped around his own body in comfort.
Kusakabe beams, “No idea! We’ve never had him near cows before!”
Shiu felt like hitting him.
“Well, she just got off her heat-” At the way that Toji’s nostrils flare, his grin widens, Shiu almost regrets saying that with a gesture towards you. Oh? He blocks the bull’s greedy line of sight towards you, and grumbles. “-so no funny business.”
Toji scoffs.
“Use your words, Toji.” Kusakabe pleads, “No need to be like that.”
And he takes a second to pause. To consider. To seemingly mull over his words before- “Eat my ass-”
“Toji-”
“That’s it-” Shiu spits, not waiting for either man nor hybrid to finish before he’s stomping off to where you were watching the commotion from (as was the rest of the farm, but it seems like this hulking intruder had eyes only for you).
And with his hand placed gently where your flower-patterned collar was, Shiu leads you away from the herd. Away from the pen. Away from Toji, towards the barn where your room was. “That’s it- for the time that that bull is here, he won’t be seeing a single glimpse of you, that’s for sure.”
“But why?” You whine, your head tugging backwards. And Shiu could almost balk at the way that you - you - were half-heartedly resisting his grip, trying to look back at Toji. “Why can’t I-”
“Because.”
And that was that, you were isolated inside the barn, and Toji was padlocked away in his pen. Far, far away from you for the time that he’d be staying there.
And as Kusakabe waves his exit from his farm, promising to be back in a few days, Shiu makes sure to get a good punch in (all in good friendship, of course). Because Shiu Kong was calm. Shiu Kong was composed. Shiu Kong could survive just a few days with an in-rut bull hybrid infiltrating his farm.
“And how long until you’re back again?”
“Three- ouch, three days. You have a good right hook, man.”
After all, it was exactly that - just a few days.
What’s the worst that could happen?
.
.
.
The first day.
Toji could see you.
Through the slightest crack in those barn doors, just the tips of your ears peaking out as you glimpse at him. It turns out that just Shiu’s command couldn’t hold you, and you staggered your way up to the barn doors whenever that damned farmer of yours wasn’t around to see. Watching. Waiting.
Taking in the sight of him.
And it wasn’t that Toji wasn’t used to stares - he was a prized bull hybrid, larger than most. So it was quite the given that he’d gather stares from competition, from unmated cows, hell, even from farmers who would like their chance at raising human-hybrid offspring. And so it wasn’t exactly new…
But just this way you were looking at him…it made him shiver.
Those pretty doe-eyes held up a curious, somewhat fearful, admiration. A slight arousal dampening between your legs that his honed senses could smell from even here—
Toji swears something in him had snapped the very split-second that he’d arrived here.
That he’d first locked eyes with you.
That he’d first sniffed at the remaining sweetness of your heat. Your sex.
Every sense in him right now (even the rational ones) were screaming at him to break out of this enclosure and waltz right up to you, break through those barn doors if he had to. He wanted to smell your pheromones. To hold you. To stuff his hot, throbbing cock between your legs and watch as you struggle to take it all.
He wanted to breed you.
And - multiple times - Toji found himself barging against the locked doors of his pen. Whispering your sweet, sweet name underneath his breath (learned from some of the other hybrids that watched him), ramming his horns against the wooden walls.
He was in rut.
Badly.
Badly, badly, badly.
The sheer intensity of it was more than anything else he’d ever felt- fuck, not even his first rut had felt this strong. It wasn’t that he was unmated. It wasn’t that he was in an unfamiliar place. It was just you, you, you.
Taking the wind out of his lungs. Making his length ache heavily between his strong legs. Wafting his intoxicating scent - something spicily sweet, with a peculiar tang in it that made you drunk on it like liquor, like mulled wine - all the way to where you were watching from the barn doors.
You’re sagging heavily against its wooden frame to take it in, sighing at the murky pheromones that seemed to cloud the entire farm-
“Oi, girlie!”
And through it all, that damned Shiu had made sure to cockblock him.
Even now, here came his annoying, grating tone. He’d kept a close eye on Toji ever since Kusakabe had left in his truck, rarely straying too far from the hybrid pen. He was always butting in, always breaking the stare-down between you two.
With one hand on his hip, the farmer watches as you startle at his voice. Suddenly hurrying to stumble back inside the barn where you came from.
And it would’ve almost been cute had it not been a result of you breaking one of his direct rules: do not interact with the bull in rut. But the thing is, you’d never seen a bull like him—and he was in rut? Oh…
Shiu barks out, “Where’d you think you were going, huh? Yeah- that’s right, inside.” And with you gone, Shiu would glare up at Toji. Toji wasn’t shy to glare right back.
“Problem?” He smiles.
“Yeah-” The farmer had crinkled his nose- and pointed at the way that Toji had been impatiently pushing against the enclosing walls, trying to break out, trying to get to you. He spits out distastefully, “-that. Don’t think you’re getting anywhere near her, got it?”
“Not at all.”
That night, Shiu had sent for a few more locks to be delivered from the hardware store downtown (he wasn’t even sure that they did delivery, but he’d coax them into if it meant not taking his eyes off of you). Multiple. He’d fixed them onto the gates of Toji’s pen, “This should keep you out.” Shiu had declared, jangling the metallic additions with one hand. “Not even the finest bulls in the world would be able to break through these. Hah! Take that.”
“Fuck off.”
He’d charged at the other man, but alas, the gates stayed steadfast.
.
.
.
The second day.
Toji had murmured your name like a mantra all night.
All night.
Again and again and again-
“He really doesn’t seem so bad, Shiu.” You’d tried to whine to the farmer, when he’d come back into the barn after fixing a few more locks - the count was reaching upwards of ten by now - on the gates of the bull’s enclosure.
But Shiu had only waved off your pleading noises, “Now, don’t give me that look. I heard the way he was ramming against those gates last night, I heard his bellows.” Needless to say, you had, too…“And I just don’t think it’s safe for you to be out when such a bull is in rut, girlie. Not unless you wanted to be mated- hah!”
Well…
You pushed your quivering thighs together. You’d hate to admit that in the privacy of your room last night, listening to Toji grow so desperate, listening to him say your name like that…you’d actually reached for your heat toys about once or twice.
You’d never felt this way about a bull before- hell, you’d never felt this way about anyone before.
And it was such a strange sensation to be glidin’ up the buzzin’ tip of your vibrator to your clit, massaging that sweet lil’ nub without the carnal pangs of your heat. Just the carnal pangs of…pure need-
“Besides.” Shiu’s cutting through your lecherous memory, and you hope the evidence of your lewd acts don’t show on your face. He gently pats at your head, the way he’s done so many times before. “You don’t need to be mounted by such a big, bad bull. My poor girl.”
“I don’t?” You mutter to yourself.
And Shiu doesn’t seem to catch on, “After all, it’s not like you’re in heat.”
No…you suppose not.
But you can’t help but raise your face into the saturated atmosphere, seemingly so balmy and languid ever since Toji stepped foot onto the farm. And there, you can smell the most addictive scent- fuck, something that just made your core twitch with need.
“Feeling alright, my girl?” Shiu looks on at the way you shiver, and whatever he sees there makes him lead you back to your place within the barn. “Hm, maybe you should get some rest- it’s probably that bull’s pheromones messing you up.”
“M-messing me up?” You’re asking, your entire body feeling set alight. Though, you didn’t feel the slightest bit messed up.
“Mhm- since you’re unmated, just coming off an unsuccessful heat. But it’s alright-” Shiu reassures, starting to shut your door, and there’s a meaningful look in his eyes. “We can try again next year, I have a few other bulls in mind that you might like to mate with. And he won’t be getting anywhere near you until then.”
“He won’t…”
Shiu continues, “Besides, Kusakabe will be picking him up tomorrow, so you have absolutely nothing to worry about.”
You don’t say anything, but you know that you aren’t worried. Not even the slightest bit.
In fact…your body wished he’d be here even longer.
But ah- if he was just going to be taken away tomorrow, then what was the use in wanting? As your wooden door slams shut, you’re realizing that you just might never see him again.
And, outside, Toji only rams against the pen fence even harder.
He wanted you.
He wanted you.
He wanted you.
.
.
.
The third (and final) day.
Or is it…
“What?” Shiu barks into his phone receiver, so loud that it startles every hybrid grazing in the vicinity. All of them were out, leaving the barnhouse all barren by this point - though Shiu didn’t doubt that his voice reached even you inside. And the sheer incredulousness in his tone makes even Toji look over, with a smirk that told the farmer that he was quite enjoying witnessing his distress. But Shiu paid no mind to that.
He couldn’t.
Right now, he was much more frazzled by the words that had the utter fuckin’ audacity to sheepishly leave Kusakabe’s mouth on the other end of the line. Almost in a trance, Shiu pinches the bridge of his nose and repeats. “So…you’re telling me…” Each word tremored with the sheer effort that it took to keep the rage out of them, “That you want me…to come…”
“All the way to Tokyo to help me fix up my engine and save me from being stranded? Yes.” Kusakabe’s voice finishes off, “Shiu, my oldest friend, my dearest pal, have I ever told you how much I love y-”
“Atsuya Kusakabe I will kill you.”
Toji snorts out in laughter, and Shiu is suddenly reminded that he’d been in the middle of fixing up just one more lock to the bull’s pen when he’d gotten the call. Gate held ajar for now. Padlocks unlocked as he fixed them on.
Glaring at the hybrid for the interruption, Shiu’s pinching the pen closed as he grumbles. “And you need me - you can’t just go to one of the many, many, many mechanics in Tokyo - because why exactly?”
“Aww, don’t be like that, Shiu!” Kusakabe cries out, “Do you have any idea how expensive Tokyo is? I just bought a cute lil’ pastry before the convention, and it bankrupted me for generations!”
“And you don’t have any other friends that are closer?”
“Man, if I had any other friends, period, do you think I’d be calling you?”
Shiu supposed that was a fair enough statement. “But- but I can’t leave…” He clicks his tongue, “Just get a train then! Leave that pile of junk at some trash site where it belongs-”
“I mean, I could…” And though Kusakabe’s tone was one of curious innocence, he’d long since learned that nothing ever boded well for him when he used it. He waits with bated breath until the other man continues- “-but that just means I’ll have to leave my truck - including my cattle trailer, which I use to transport my cattle - here. And you know what else that means I’ll have to leave?”
Shiu shivers, “Wh-what?”
“Toj-”
“I’ll be there right now.”
Kusakabe cackles, “Take your tiiime~!” And soon enough, the sharp tone of the call being ended reaches Shiu’s ears.
With one last semi-glare thrown in Toji’s direction, the farmer is speed-walking to his own truck - all those tools Kusakabe needed still inside from his last fix-up. More like running. More like sprinting to save his friend.
Not because he wanted to save his friend, of course. But because every second that Kusakabe was stuck in Tokyo, was a second even longer that you were stuck with Toji on this farm.
All alone.
And he couldn’t have rushed out of here more determined.
More hasty.
More careless-
“Well, would ya look at that.” Toji’s scarred lips twitch upwards into a grin. And he’s reaching one of his beefy arms out to lightly - just lightly - nudge at the wooden gate of his enclosure. Watching as it swings wiiiiiiide open—creeeeak! Bearing the rest of the farm to him with welcome arms. “What a sweet little gift f’me.”
All those pesky padlocks and ties, carefully added over the last few days, were useless if some silly lil’ farmer ever forgot to lock them.
Toji takes such delight in taking that first step out of his enclosure, broad pecs heaving as he takes in the candied trail of scent left all over by a certain pretty cow hybrid. You.
He then takes a second step, a third, a fourth—
And he knows exactly where he’s heading to - the barn.
Where you were just settling in for the day, your feverish body settling atop a particularly soft, tangled mass of golden hay. Cuddling in. You’d heard Shiu’s truck take off, though it would be out-of-character for him to leave so suddenly. You weren’t sure what to think, and you were just about to nod off when…
Creak-creak-creeeeeak—!
The barn door opens.
Shiu? Fluttering open your eyes, you’re just about to raise your head and ask him what all the yelling and commotion was, when-
Oh.
Oh.
That wasn’t the farmer at all.
Toji’s large, sculptured figure takes up nearly the entire door frame. And even from here you can see his sultry grin, his agitated hips. You can smell his intense drunken pheromones—“Room for two, sweetcheeks?”
.
.
.
“I’m- hah, sensitive there…” You’re pouting as Toji relentlessly tugs you by your stubby horns towards him. His overlarge hand plastered to the back of your scalp and guided you down between his meaty thighs - not only had he kissed you silly by this point, but the hybrid had you drenched and quivering all over the hay for more.
But first…
Your watery eyes bulge as you take in the sheer length between Toji’s legs - inches upon inches, throb after throb, all looooong and rock-hard with need. His erection stood right up to graze his navel with glittery drops of precum.
Decorated with so many puffy veins down his shaft that your cunt twitched just imagining how he’d feel inside of you.
Each one pulsated as Toji drip-drip-dripped in gooey sap down his cock, all ready to pierce your hot sex. Heavy balls tightening with even more, with the urge to breed. And you’d do well to remember that bull hybrids in particular were known for having absolutely massive cocks-
“What’cha thinking about, sweet girl?” Toji hums, the point of that nickname proven when he takes a deep, heaving gasp of the pheromone-saturated air.
Before you can answer, one of his hands slither down to grip that heavy cock of his. Right ‘round the fat hilt where he can move his long length to smack! down between your half-parted lips. Using just the globular tip of his cock, he’s smearin’ apart your maw and just glossing over it with his creamy pre. “You’re not thinking of tapping out already, huh? You’re not…scared are you?”
There’s a slight mocking hint in his tone, nevertheless you’re shaking your head fervently.
He snickers, “That’s right. You don’t care what that stupid farmer of yours has to say, hm?” And oh—Toji has to stop himself from simply stuffing every inch inside your mouth already, instead wetting your lips enough so that he can sliiiiide in. “You’re not really such a good lil’ hybrid like he says- huh?”
“No-” You’re hiccuping out, “Not at- mmpf.”
Only for big, bad Toji to rut his cock against your mouth. Shutting you up with his flared tip, you can taste the pure arousal seeping into your mouth.
All warm n’ wet on top of your tastebuds—you’re drooling around his thick tip before you even know it.
“No, because you’re a baaaaad girl, aren’t ya?” He’s tutting, swiping away the splatters of saliva that just kept on leaking from the edges of your mouth- and instead, he’s reeling back to replace it with a jetstream of his own spittle. Straight onto the middle of your tastebuds.
With a second hand tugging open your mouth, Toji takes a nice look at that gluey wad sitting on your tongue- before he’s plunging his rude cock right back in between your lips. “Because you’re- haaaaah, careful, careful, no teeth- because you’re my good girl, aren’t ya?” Staring at you with half-lidded green eyes, “Allllll mine.”
“Mmmpf—” You’re muffling out around his raw girth, Toji was just so big that your maw was constantly open in this lecherous ‘oh’ shape.
Gobbling his veiny inches up even deeper and deeper, you’re only growing wetter at the way that his bawling divot scrapes down the roof of your mouth. Swervin’ left and right, and reaching for that cute lil’ dangly thing at the back of your throat-
“Ever taken a bull’s cock before?”
Choking at the lodgement in your throat, “N-no—”
“Yeah? Thought so. Ever taken anyone before?”
Shaking your head.
“Well then, she’s taking me so- hah, well.” Toji’s crooning out from above you, fucking his hips in sloppy half-thrusts inside your mouth. That rough line of his happy trail ends up scratching the tip of your nose, and you find that his intoxicating scent only grows stronger the closer you get…“Haven’t you had breakfast today, sweetcheeks?”
With tearful eyes, you’re looking up at him in confusion. “Mmm—ngh.”
“Ah ah- flick your tongue at my tip if you wanna say ‘no’—oh, just like that.” And then his mean, scarred lips end up formulating a mocking pout. “Such a cute tongue, can’t believe she’s gone hungry for so long- ngh.”
“I-” Tears stream down both your cheeks, and you’re panting out through each thrust of his achin’ cock. “Fuck, Toji, you’re just so big-”
Other hand pushing on the back of your clammy head, deeper n’ deeper. His superhuman strength was just incredible- “And look, she’s just become so greedy.” As if he wasn’t the one tunneling every spot inside your mouth, spotting it with his pre. “Don’t you know you don’t have to take any more, sweet girl, don’t you- oh—” Toji accurately hits the back of your throat, a direct thud! of his globular cockhead. He grins, watching you salivate around his cock- “-oh, fine, if you insist…”
“You’re- hck!” And the fact of the matter was that he hadn’t even fully bottomed-out yet. Criss-crossing your eyes, you spot that you had even more inches to go- “You’re so ngh-”
“And you want me to bruise the back of your- oh, throat, you say?” Toji’s cutting you off with his mean grunts, smack after smack of his heavy balls.
They graze the front of your chin and make you feel such carnal pangs, your cunt grinding back against your heels. “I didn’t even- oh.” But too late - his geysering divot was already bruising away back there.
Push after push.
Probe after probe.
Until Toji’s shaft had stirred up every single hidden spot inside of you, and he was swelling up even more like he wanted more, more, more—
“Toji-” Your nails claw down the pale expanse of Toji’s thighs, just so plush rippling underneath your touch. “Toji I want-”
“Ohoooo?” His raven brows raise in amusement, a mean grin spreading across his face. “The good girl is making demands now, hm?” As you whimper away, he’s thrashin’ at the back of your throat- again and again. “I guess I can’t just keep listening to her, huh?”
Her? Who…oh.
He was talking about your thoroughly damp pussy, with the sappiest noises leaving you each time you’re pushing back on your heels. Soaked with desire.
And Toji seems amused by your shocked reaction, “How cute…go on then, sweetcheeks. Go on. Lemme know what that cute lil’ heart of yours desires.”
You’re pulling back from his red, glistenin’ tip with a lecherous pwah! “I-I want…” You’re sobbing, lashes fluttering in a way that makes- oh, you won’t be mad if he told you he was getting even harder now, would you? “-I want to feel you, Toji.”
To feel him?
To feel him?
His hazy peripherals snap down to see the way you were eyeing his long, long length. And then he’s realizing - oh, you wanted to feel him inside, did you?
Inside…fuck.
Your eyes damn near bulge out of your skull at the way that Toji’s rock-hard length only seemed to grow even…bigger at your words. Flaring up until he was red-hot at the tip, all slicked with a glaze of saliva and pre.
Toji smacks his painfully hard shaft down once more at your maw, “What dirty, dirty words- and from such a good girl?” He scoffs.
And just as you’re about to explain yourself, you’re suddenly feeling near whiplash at the way that Toji grabs onto your throat and flips the two of you around. Hoisting. Manhandling. Ending up with his back against the floor, head against the hay, and your naked cunt drivelling right above him.
So wet and pretty.
Toji’s mouth waters at the sight of your damp, glistening hole. And he can’t help but immediately reach one hand over to thumb apart your puffy pussylips, pressin’ apart your folds and spitting straight into your hole.
“Or were they words from her, hm?” Toji’s gruffly snickering, flopping that wide tongue of his out to catch your droplets of slick. “Talking out of that pussy, hah- you’re even dirtier than I thought, sweetcheeks.”
Your thighs ache as they hover, slightly chasing the warmth of his mouth. “M’n-not dirty! I just wanted to feel you…” Casting a longing look behind at his throbbing length-
“As if. And you can have my cock-” You look up hopefully at his answer, how cute—you couldn’t even properly fit his cock inside your mouth, and now you think you could fit him inside your cunt? “-but first I’ve gotta stretch this dirty girl ouuuuut.”
“But, I can take- hngh!”
As if. Before you know it, Toji’s slithering his long, looooong tastebuds inside your cunt with absolutely no warning, no hesitation.
Just the ridged texture of his muscle slithering inside, and you’re quivering at the sheer size of him. And he feels the tightness of your circular innards and grins- “Woah…” Just a single taste of you, and his pheromones are blasting out in pure need. “Don’t you know that you hafta stretch ‘er out first, hm? What- never done this before?”
Gingerly, you shake your head ‘no’.
“Oh- reeeeeally.” Just pryin’ aside your folds, you were so fucking wet that that honeyed slick splashes down onto his face like a puddle. Toji rolls his eyes, “I would’ve never thought.”
You huff n’ puff atop him, “Don’t- don’t tease, Toji-”
“Why, m’not teasing..” He’s spitting on your cunt yet again, letting the dewy excess trickle back down into his throat. “I already know that this pretty pussy hasn’t been satisfied like she deserves. I can fucking taste it-” Tunneling back in again. “Can hear it.” The most lecherous slurps echoing in your ears as he does, the bull’s ears flick your way to listen to it. “She wants only me- heh, wants me to be her first, doesn’t she?”
Slurp-slurp-sluuuuurping as he’s rovering his tongue, somehow contracting it and extracting it in a way that massages your velvety walls.
Again and again.
“All you hafta do is sit there- all pretty, and take it.” Toji croons, and something dark glints within that gaze of his as he catches your lost expression. “What? That dear farmer of yours never taught you how to take it like a good girl when yer being eaten out.”
“N-no-”
“Then let me teach you—” Oh, you knew he didn’t bode well by the way that he said it. You knew it.
And in a split-second, Toji has one hand plastered at your hip, and the other veering upwards to smack! down on your swollen pussy. “Ah ah-” As you buck, that hold he has on you grows numbing, and you’re sure he’s leaving nail marks there for weeks. “Toji’s first rule- don’t run.”
“I won’t—” You’re swallowing your words back just as soon as you say them, because just then- two of his rovering fingertips intrude their way inside your cunt.
Not even waiting for you to get used to him, not even faltering as you squeeeeeeze.
He’s straightly stuffing two of them inside your snug channel, the bulbous ends of Toji’s digits digging into each of your hidden spots without even trying. Turning them over. Pushing into every nook n’ cranny n’ crevice over and over- “Oh my god-” Bellowing out, your body starts to move back and forth against him - as if it didn’t know whether you wanted to bounce down or run away- “Toji, I’ve never felt something like this- ngh.”
Only for a loud smack! to ring out against your wet pussylips once again, and for Toji to haul you back onto his mouth with his beefy arm. “What’d I say about rule number- hah, one, hm? Silly girl.”
He was stopping you from running from it.
He was looping one of his thick, beefy biceps ‘round your waist, stopping you from moving away from his open-mouthed kisses. “Good.” Pulling you in so close that his golden nose ring presses frigidly against your clit and makes you flinch. “Atta girl- atta, sweet girl.” Toji smirks against your cunt, once you try squirming your hips and find that you can’t move even a single inch. “Now squeeeeeze those pretty legs around, I don’t care if I fucking suffocate, use me, sweetness- that’s the second rule.”
“Like- like this?” You ask, your whiny pitch trembling just as much as your legs were by now. Feebly, they attempt to straddle Toji’s head properly.
To which it almost looks as if the bull hybrid was about to laugh—“No.”
Numerous more spanks of his fingertips on your cunt, and soon enough you’re finding yourself completely limb atop him. As he fingers you to tears, rotund fingertips scouring all the way to your cute cervix-
“I mean-” From your hips, his hand is then moving to your thighs. Wrapping around them to squeeze and squeeze and squeeze- until Toji felt light-headed. “-like this.”
“I think m’d-doing it.” You’re gyrating atop him wildly by now, finding a staccato in time with his thudding! fingers. Not only were they thick, they were just so long too - and they left you feeling dizzy with his vulgar strokes, with his incredible scent.
“Third rule, fuck back into me.” He commands, with that specific tone of a bull in rut that made you want to listen to him immediately. Your hamstrings screamed in protest as you continue, “Fuck her back into me- harder now, aren’t you a cow hybrid? Buck.”
You could barely even believe your ears, “You’re just so fucking mean- fuck!”
“Yeah, yeah, just like that.”
And Toji’s tongue? Oh, he wasn’t just staying still - not at all.
Toji had his tongue wrapped ‘round your throbbing clit and spanking down with his tastebuds. “And the fourth and final rule-” He gurgles through the wettened wads you were seeping out, “-is to get ready.”
You’re blinking your teary eyes back open, looking down at him in shock. “Get ready for what?”
It takes a few more probin’ thrusts before he can bear to pull away- and that, too, with the loudest smooch! The bull hybrid’s pants come out in heaving gusts, scalding air making you quiver at the sensation.
“Get ready…” Toji rattles off, after a few sultry seconds. And oh- you wonder, why was his tone octaves higher? Why did he sound so breathy? Why was there something…crazed in the way he said it- “-because you think a bull hybrid in rut would really be this nice, sweetcheeks?”
Jaw dropping, “Oh-”
“You don’t know how painful it was to hold myself back-”
And before you know it, your spine’s arching as you struggle to accommodate him- struggling to handle the raw primal pressure of his thick tongue and two- three of his fingers plunging into your hole. Pushing and pushing and pushing—
You’ve become masterful at rule number three, it seems, as you’re pressing your thighs upon either side of Toji’s face until he groans.
All of his appendages just reaching all the way for the very back of your cunt—“Ohhh, please-” Your head throws backwards as you feel him fuck you with his tongue like he was trying to ruin your inexperienced pussy. “P-please-”
“Oh m’ having a pleasant time alright.” Toji snickers, his heated pants leaving your skin perspired. The mountains of his knuckles were striking your outer pussy so hard now that they were starting to grow red on his skin. “S’fuh-fucking sweet.” Stinging.
Plap! after plap! You’re moaning as his mouth unhinges undeniably deeper to let even more of his tongue’s inches inside. Stretchin’ out your cute orifice, “Gonna hafta stretch her at least twice- haaah- twice as fuck! much if you wanna fit my cock, sweet girl.”
“Twice as much…” You’re repeating breathlessly, you couldn’t even begin to imagine it. It already felt like Toji was pulling you to your very limits - so even more…
“Rule number five- just made it up, heh.” Toji spits out - literally, a glittering glob of spittle that sticks to your slit. It slides down to your hold and makes it easy for him to thrash his tongue inside like an animal- like he was frenzied by his pheromones, like he couldn’t control himself from push-push-pushing.
Not even at a controlled cadence- Toji couldn’t stop himself from squishing your sweetest spots at the very back of your cunt. In almost no time, he’s finding that cute lil’ heart-shaped g-spot of yours - and Toji’s fingertips and tongue were fighting over which one gets to press on it the most.
Again and again until you’re in actual tears- “Rule number five is- ngh, you have to take it.” Holding you to him, until your cunt folds were plastered against his puffy lips. “Take it all like my good girl if you wanna finally take my cock.”
“Please-” Being pummelled away to the maximum, it’s all you can say like a constant mantra. “Please please- ngh! Please-”
“That’s all that dirty mouth can say now?” Toji tuts, “Tch- what happened to wanting me inside? Wanting my cock? Wanting to be fucked like the slut you secretly are?”
Primal swabs, again and again.
Twofold.
After each word, Toji’s tongue sizzles against your tender pussy - lips glued so deeply against your folds, that you can feel him lappin’ away every ounce of your slickness.
It drips slightly down his chin, and leaves your cunt slipping on top of Toji’s handsome face. You grab onto his large horns with a yelp- “Oh! Fuck, Toji- did I really say that?”
“Of course you did- hah, gallop, sweethearts.” With yet another spank, he rovers his face even deeper between your trembly legs. Nose-deep. Skin-deep. So deep, in fact, that the veins on Toji’s sculptured neck pop out.
You’re unsteadily bucking against him on instinct, and that leaves the man groaning. “Just like that.” Swallowing up every inch of your outer cunt, you’re being pierced by the relentless ministrations of his tongue again and again—“You asked to be fucked like a slut- hngh, and that’s exactly what m’giving you. Aren’t I just the beeest mating partner, sweetcheeks?”
“But I didn’t-” You’re babbling out, drunk on the vicious scrape-scrape-scrape of his intrusions. His fingers pushed just as your g-spot, and you could feel him glissading down even deeper. Deeper. Deeper. “-I didn’t say that—”
“Oh, didn’t you?” He’s hazily looking up from between your legs - there was something bleary in his eyes, something gone. “I think I remember-”
“Well I don’t-” As you’re raising your voice, you can’t believe it- Toji’s powerful tail wraps around your thighs and drags you back down.
He rumbles, “Rule number one…” In warning.
And it’s only with a few more thuds! that Toji’s pretending to remember just what you’re whinin’ away about, his dark brows shooting up to his bangs. And you can feel your treacly cunt quiver with the vibrations of his laughter, “But ah- I remember now.” His eyes crinkle into slits of amusement, eating you out until his nose ring slicks with your syrup. Just the notion is enough to leave his pheromones heightening, “I believe you said…‘you wanted to feel me’.”
Mouth dropping in recognition, “Oh- I did.”
“And what did you mean by that, hm?” Toji speaks through the ringing slurps, zap after zap of pleasure. “You’re already feeling me here-” Pokin’ at your g-spot, “And here-” His tongue snakes out to suck on your clit once more.
“I just meant I wanted to feel you- hck!”
His sweaty brows furrow, “But yer already feeling me-”
“No- more like I wanted to feel your-” You’ve never spoken words like this before, not even in the throes of your worst heats. You glance back at his twitching erection, “-there.”
“My where?”
“Your- your cock, Toji!” You’re wailing out, your legs feeling numb at the way he strikes your sweetest bundle of nerves. “I wanna feel your thick, looooong cock- please.”
Oh, you really were such a dirty girl. He’s gnawing down on that nub of your clit, “And where do you wanna feel my thick- looooong- cock, hm?”
You’re stammering, mouth growing less in-your-control the longer he’s making a mess of your poor pussy. “Inside-”
“Inside where?”
“Inside my cunt-” And you’re shocked you manage that out without stumbling over your words, gryatin’ back into his open maw with sly figure eights. But even that wasn’t enough—
Toji rolls his eyes, such a mess. Such a shattered mess. Just pushing and tasting and lavishing his tongue all over- “Say it again-” When you’re repeating your sultry words, “More- dirtier. Be good f’me, girl, say it again-”
“I want your cock inside my cunt, Toji.” You’re whimpering out, you’re shaking. Feeling the inexperience bubble within each of your veins, because the hybrid was just having so much fun corrupting you. “I want it inside- want you to fuck me with that cock so badly-”
“Atta girl.”
Forcing you to say those lecherous words, forcing you to cum—
“Oh my god-” With your back arched, you’re throwing your body into the wave of pleasure that suddenly bursts inside your body. “C-cumming- I’m cumming, Toji-”
“And it’s all because of me.” He’s smugly saying, perfectly puncturing at your g-spot with his constant pushes.
Because of Toji’s rut, his senses were so honed that he could mark each peak of your high- the explosion of bliss that he pinpointed with his fingers, with the slashes of his tongue. “Heh- me.” With a wet chuckle, Toji’s tongue was going to lick up every inch of your pussy like he was frenzied. Couldn’t get enough. Lap after lap. “Me me me me-” He sucks on your clit, letting his canines nibble lightly on them, and it lets out the most lewd sluuuuurp. “-and look- she’s thanking me.”
“Fuck! Never felt something so good-” Whining out, you’re bouncing your back into each of his hits. “-might be the best orgasm I’ve ever had- hck!”
“S’a pleasure, sweet girl.”
By the time the best of your high bates, Toji still hasn’t let up between those syrupy legs of yours. When he’s licked up every droplet of sap you’re letting out, he’s moving over to lick at the sheen of slick glued to your thighs.
Again and again.
Until you’re all the way overstimulated, and tears start to drip as if from a faucet. “I th-think m’done, Toji.” As if he already didn’t know - you’re pushing at his clammy head. “My orgasm’s over, I wanna try taking your cock now-”
“And you’re sure?”
He wasn’t asking to be nice. He was asking to make you turn your head and balk at the way his impossible size had only seemed to grow even bigger. Your lips wobbling, “Y-yes.”
“Oho?” Dark brows raising, he stops his ministrations and moves both hands to now grip at your waist. “Well, you did tell me to put my ‘thick, looooong cock inside of your cunt’-”
“So shut up and do it.” Huffing in embarrassment, you pound at his muscular chest - and he could barely even feel it, like kitten kisses on his bulky body. It’s enough for Toji’s cock to jolt with need, and for his attractive face to break out into a grin.
“Atta girl.”
And with that final compliment, Toji’s making to grab onto your waist and lift you off of his face—with the loudest smooch! It’s ringing out like the prettiest melody in both your eardrums, and Toji just barely manages to disconnect himself with your sweet pussy.
Just barely breaks his lips from your tender folds, all slickly glossed.
Just barely wrenches you off with ease, and takes one nice look at your hole - when you’re realizing that Toji Fushiguro suddenly stops. His nostrils suddenly flare. He suddenly stutters-
“O-oh, sweet girl. I don’t think you even realize-” Toji gawks up at your cunt. And you’re feeling somewhat shy when he filthily leans his features in and takes a good, long sniff at your cunt. As you’re looking up at him in confusion, “-you’re in heat.”
“In heat?” He sets you down near his rugged v-line, and you’re animalistically grinding your cunt down on his thickened length. You look up at him for answers, “What do you mean? Shiu said I’ve already finished my heat-”
“Fuck what Shiu says, silly girl.” Lightly spanking your pussy, Toji rolls his sage eyes. His pupils were all blown-out and bleary with lust, only darkening the more he takes in your buttery pheromones.
Oh, you smelled like the sweetest freshly-whipped cream - and that only made his mouth water as much as his swollen cock was. Drenching the cute innards of your thighs n’ your pussy mound with his sap, he grins. “I can smell it.” He parts his scarred lips, a thin line of saliva trickling down one side. “I can fucking- taste it-”
“Oh—” You’re gyratin’ back against his plummy cock tip, oh-so-lewdly. And you take another sniff of yourself, reaching up to feel that your scent glands have swollen up. “I g-guess you’re right-”
“Sugar, I am right.”
Before you know it, the world’s a blur around you- and suddenly you find your back against the soft hay. Your head being cushioned by one of Toji’s rugged palms, Toji’s large body hovering over you. Pressing you down-
“And this pretty pussy’s tellin’ me that this is yer first heat with a bull, hm?” Sliding his thumb between your glossy crevice, he listens for the squelches. “Awww, how cute—so m’your first, sweet girl?”
“Yes- yes.” And when he places his fleshy cock between your legs, at that sweet spot where you wanted him the most, you can’t help but realize that oh- he’d been stretching you out for so long for a good reason.
Because Toji’s hybrid cock looked absolutely ginormous between your legs, especially with the way he’d thickened up in size while eating you out. His cockhead was as red as a huge strawberry, and multiple times bigger. Bull hybrids, famed for the shaft length - now slipping n’ sliding between your pussylips.
Just kissing at your geysering orifice- “Oh- fuck.”
“And you know having you on top would be the easiest for her…” That said, he’s swatting his rough fingertips down on the nub of your clit. He’s spitting. He growls, and it’s enough to send shivers down your spine- “But m’still gonna have her in a mating press.” Throwing your legs over his shoulders, folding you damn in half. “Because you also forget one- fuck-” Just feeling you clench around nothing, enough to make him reach up and grab at a wooden beam. “-thing, sweetness.”
“And what’s that, Toji?”
“I’m in-” Hard enough that the wooden beam breaks—“-rut.”
Fourth rule, remember?
Because you didn’t think that he’d go this easy on you when he’s in fuckin’ rut, did you? You didn’t think that he was going to fuck you nicely, did you? You didn’t think that he wasn’t going to act like a damn animal, did you?
In a sudden motion, Toji’s plugging your hole up with his thick cockhead- and shoving it deep into your deepest insides. Long. Hard.
You’re yelping, nails finding purchase on his deltoids and clawing on for dear life because- “A virgin, are ya?” He tuts, “Don’t think m’gonna go easy on ya.”
“Oh my goodness-” Thighs curling around his toned waist, hips attempting to buck away. “Holy fuck-”
“Easy, easy.” It was just so cute the way you were struggling - especially when you were talking so big about wanting him. “Breathe in, girl- there ya go.” You’re following as he instructs, “Breathe in. Breathe out. Breathe in—” And suddenly there’s a sodden spank at your pussy, “-you, too, pretty pussy.”
Something that catches you off-guard, and makes you swallow him up an inch deeper. Your eyes rolling all the way to the back of your skull, “Fuck fuck fuck fuck- I’ve never felt like this. You’re so big- hold on, Toji, you’re so-”
“Hold on?”
“What-”
“Hold on?”
He’s then spitting out into your open mouth, and slapping your pussy so hard that you’re seeing stars. Instantly, you’re set on edge by the way that his rugged cock suddenly slams- “You’re telling me to h-hold on?”
And was that a stutter in his sentence?
A laugh?
Toji Fushiguro sounded like he was fucking losing it by merely hearing your whining questions- “You seriously want me to…” Clawing down in front of your body, one of his rude hands press down on your stomach as he’s sinking iiiiiiin. It makes you feel every ridge n’ vein, every inch, every bit of his thick shaft intruding in. “-hold on?”
“It’s just- I just didn’t think you’d be so big-” He was barely even halfway in and you could already feel Toji at your throat, gushing out sticky wads of slick. With your feet planted on the hay-littered ground, you’re trying to arch your back nearly away from—
“Oi- who said you could tap out?” Before you know it, Toji’s hand lifts from your thigh to grab onto your tail - one pulling you in by the tail, his right hand still feeling for that tummy bulge he was fucking into you.
You can’t get away by the way he’s manhandling you back down into his hips, skidding straight across the barnyard floor. “Tch- ya need ta be herded or what, silly girl?” Grazing his dark happy trail against your front, the curly tufts of it scratch your clit. “Come back t’me- rule number one, remember?”
“Fuck-” Throwing your head back in tears, your legs were limp from the sheer pressure being put on your lower half. “-I can feel you reaching in so deep-”
“And you wanted me to hold on?”
He was never going to let that go - he was never going to give you even the slightest second to get used to his incredible length.
Palm pressing down on the cylindrical outline makin’ itself known on your tummy - just that big. Pelvis moving in a rapid, urgent half-thrusts-
Toji isn’t even waiting for your cunt to take it all, his red cockhead probin’ just inwards. Inwards and inwards and inwards. He can feel the tight resistance of your pussy, your sweet body unable to take him whole right now- and it only makes him groan.
With his head thrown back, he’s letting go of your tail to smear apart your pussylips. “M’in fucking rut and you wanted me to hold on-” He’s hissing, pushing your snug folds so far apart that you have no choice but to take his hammers. “Been teasing me with that s-sweet scent ever since I fucking got here and you want me to hold on-” Pulling you to him. Dragging you to him.
Toji breaks every single second that he’s not fully sheathed inside of you, and he’s just pummeling his hips deeper- “Hold on, hold on, hold on.” After each mention of his mantra, he’s rutting in. “You want me to h-hold on and-” Harder. “-and you know what-” Deeper. “-I want to do, sweet girl?”
“What-” You’re gasping out through your tears, sticking to both of your cheeks by now. “What do you want, Toji?”
“I want to- fuck! Well, first I want to fucking fit-” He’s whispering underneath his breath, darkened eyes narrowed as he takes it in. “Fit- fit- fit-” Before you know it, he’s spitting down once more on your cunt and shoving his cockhead inside. “-fucking fit-”
Blinking away the tears in your eyes, “And- hah, and what else did you want?” By the heightening of his pheromones, you already knew that it was something about to ruin you.
“I want…” He was teasing you now, just lightly grazin’ that blushing hot tip against the roof of your cunt. You could feel him filling up every sneaky orifice, and Toji was fucking you like he’d just gone feral- “I want to-”
“Oh, fuck!”
With a final, lewd thrust- Toji Fushiguro bottoms out.
“-breed ya, sugar.”
And he meant it. The massive bull hybrid was drilling into you like a madman- his cattle nose ring clanging with each rut. “I’ve been wanting to breed you since the moment I stepped foot here.” Toji growls, the red crown of his shaft directly heading towards your cervix now. Bruising. “I want to fuck- fuck you through every day of your heat- my rut.” And he was emptying out such long strings of precum into your womb, “Try to get you pregnant every single day of my rut.”
“You’re going to get me…” Your pupils are swirlin’ in comical circles within the whites of your eyes, and just the mere notion makes your tastebuds sizzle with saliva. You hadn’t spent your heat properly with a bull- let alone found yourself mated by one.
Bred by one.
“Fucking pregnant.” Toji finishes off with a snicker, pushing against that cute lil’ tummy bulge that he was pounding into you.
“Oh, please-” You’re throwing your head back with a mewl, “But I’ve never been m-mated to anyone before. Are we sure it’s going to take, Toji-”
“I’ll make it take.”
His jackhammers were so hard by this point, enough so that your sap splatters out of you in puddles. It glistens right down the inner parts of your thighs, and Toji swipes his thumb down from your pussy to glaze it in the syrup. To reach up to his scarred maw and suck on it.
And when he feels your spit-slicked lips start to wobble out more concerns, he’s pushing that very thumb between your own lips.
“Shut it, silly girl. Ya really think that when I hah- when I fuck you like this—in this mating press.” As if on cue, his manhandling strength seems to be folding you even deeper in half. “With this pretty pussy-” Dragging out a few more slurps with his thrusts, “-and my rut- you’re not gonna be walking outta this barn stupidly pregnant?”
“I-I don’t-”
“Silly, silly girl.” It’s a rude thwack! of his curvaceous ball sack after each slam, and you can feel your body grow more restless after each of his spat-out words. So mean. “Silly lil’ hybrid thinks she’s gonna make it outta here- hah, without bearing my calves.”
You’re shivering, your body so limply fucked by this point- that Toji’s tail has to wrap around one of your thighs. Holding you up. Interlocking your ankles around his neck with that silky tail- “Well, since m’inexperienced-”
“And m’gonna give you the experience of yer life- heh, I already am.”
He was - he really was. Just making you see stars every time Toji’s overlarge, plump cockhead dug into your g-spot. Somehow he’d managed to map the insides of your walls, and each thrust grazed his length against your sweet bundle of nerves.
Probing and probing a bruise exactly the size of his round circumference- “M’gonna corrupt you, sweet lil’ thing.” A sleazy smile spreads across Toji’s handsome, perspired face. “M’gonna fill you up with so much of my cum that- hah, they’re gonna be milkin’ it out of you for months afterwards, sweet girl.”
“Fuck, I’d like that-”
“Oh yeah?”
“I’d like that s-shoooo much, Toji.”
“Bet you’d like it even more after I fill you up with my calves, hm?” He titters, pheromones slowly growing saturated enough to mingle with your own. “After I fuck this pretty pussy pregnant ‘nough times that she remembers how it feels when I fill you up? After I breed you until we can- hah, fill this whole damn farm with them? After I make a momma out of you and no other bull can ever even think of touching you-”
You squeal, “Yes- yes yes yes yes-”
His tail tightens around your ankles, horns charging as if he was only growing more n’ more excited. Throbbing with more need. “And you better fuckin’ know that these are promises, sweetness. That no fucking farmer can ever break.” Toji stares you deep in your heart-shaped eyes as he says, “I will get you pregnant.”
“Oh, I’d fucking hope so.” You glide your hands down your front, “I wanna feel you right h-here, Toji.” Down where your womb was.
Fuck…you were dangerous for a bull in heat.
And his entire body feels feverish with need, the burning sensation of his rut overtaking Toji completely.
As his hips only grow sloppier, you’re grazing your sweaty palms further down his body. Starting from his shoulders, before ultimately you end up squeezing Toji’s massive milky pecs.
Even for a bull, they were just so plush. And you can’t help but twiddle your thumbs ‘round the golden rings that he had pierced through his pinkish nipples, lecherously.
He shivers at the sensitive sensation, “O-oh? Look at you.” Snapping his head down, you swear you could see a rouge flush take over his cheekbones. “You’re corrupted already.” And both of Toji’s own hands end up removing from your stomach and your pussy, ending up- oh, you could’ve already guessed.
Both of Toji’s hands end up on your tits.
Squeezing.
Kneading.
Before you can say a word, he’s already growling out- “And as any momma would- we’re gonna hafta make sure you’re making enough milk, huh, sweetcheeks?” That last bit of his sentence ends up drowned between the valley of your chest.
Toji’s gaping his maw wide open and sucking on your right tit, his left hand pinching the nipples of your left tit.
“I don’t think anything’s gonna come out just yet-” Your tail swishes in arousal as you watch him hollow out his attractive cheeks, thoroughly sucking on your tit like his favorite lolly. Sucking like he was trying to make milk come out—“I never did produce…much…milk…”
As soon as the words leave your mouth, you’re being proved wrong. Because with a gushing sensation, you can feel your hardened nipples stream out something straight into Toji’s open mouth. “You were saying?”
Pure white milk.
And he was such a messy eater, your ivory syrup dripping down his lips. It glosses them and created the sweetest lacquer that Toji himself was addicted to- “Mmm, so much, sweet thing—fuck.” He’s pinching at your left tit, too, a splashin’ puddle of milk that he immediately plops his mouth over to gulp up. “Ya really are a sweet thing-”
“I’ve never made this much even for the farmer-” You’re gasping, and your milk cascades down Toji’s chin like a waterfall. Constant. Sloppy “How did you even…”
“Because you’re in heat.” He says- choppy, through the way that he barely wanted to speak, barely wanted to remove himself from the sweet fountains of your spurting milk. “Because m’in rut.” Toji’s hips smack into yours so hard that you see white for a second, and his happy trail perfectly carnally itches at your clit. “And tonight- we’re gonna make a fucking baby, sweet mama.”
“O-oh—” With your voice cracking, you’re reaching your high. It comes instantaneously, and you arch into Toji’s glissading muscles as you ride through it.
As you’re fucked through it.
“Cumming again?” Toji’s marvelling, his words thick - he had his mouth full, after all. Smelling the saccharine sweetness of your orgasm in your pheromones, he’s marking each peak of your high with a bang! of his reddened cockhead.
Slowly opening up your womb even more, your g-spot felt so red-hot and raw from the inside as he just kept on thumpin’ away there. Again and again and again. “Of course, ya are- fuck. Just like thaaaat, fuck back into me- third rule. They say the momma needs to cum good if we wanna get you pregnant after all-”
“And what about you?” Still in the throes of your bliss, you feel absolutely no inhibitions in babbling away. Drunk on the thick, veiny size of him fucking you through your high—“Aren’t you gonna?”
“Gonna what?”
“Fuck…”
“Rule number six-” Toji pipes up, a mean glint in his eyes. “-is to use those words like the big girl you are.”
And you best believe that he was fucking you like he was trying to push the very words up to your throat, his veins massaging your sweet spots and making you shiver, his pearly white teeth back to sucking on your milk. “I want- hah!” You wince when his right hand slithers down to pinch your clit, “-you to cum- fuck.” You moan when his left keeps toyin’ with your nipples, streaming out dairy for Toji to swallow up. “-inside my cunt, Toji.”
And there—his eyes slightly widen in interest, “You really said it.” A proud smile gracing his face, “You really, really…oh.”
With a few more lewd thrusts, he’s emptying out his heavy balls.
They tighten as they spurt out the creamiest wads of cum waaaaaay back into your spongy womb, suckin’ up each pearly droplet as Toji fucks them inside you. Splashing out. Pooling out. That bawling divot in the middle of his shaft just leaves a murky mess behind, ribbons of ivory that glue your walls together.
“Oh fuck-” He’s clenching his canines, you swear he’s holding back tears—“And you’re gonna take it-” Toji snarls, fighting against the urge to throw his head back - simply because he wanted to look at you as he stuffed you till you were overspilling. “-take every single last drop-”
The hulking bull hybrid shakes as you clench your velvety walls. “Oh, yes.” You’re shivering once he smacks! your clit once more, swirlin’ those sultry webs of seed with his fingertips.
Toji’s pushing them inwards, again and again. “And yer gonna keep it, aren’t you?” Fucking you, again and again.
He hums, gluing the edges of his fingers inside your channel, so that not a single gumdrop can leak out of you. “Second rule, sweetness, squeeze those pretty legs. S’gonna tell that pussy to keep my cum inside- give me a lil’ calf, heh.”
“Shit- keep talking and I’ll…”
It’s too late for you. You’re so far gone on his pummeling length that with a few more strokes, you’re reaching your high once more.
White-hot.
Toes curling.
Back arching.
You can’t even control yourself, it’s the most powerfully sinful sensation you’ve felt in your entire life. And this time, not only are you overspilling in Toji’s glutinous white cum - you’re also spraying out your own slick. Translucent splashes of sweetness, so powerful that your entire body shakes.
Your high was being dragged out of you.
Squirting. You can’t believe you squirted during your first heat with a mate, your first heat mounted.
And as he instinctively bucks his hips through it, your new mate swears- “Fuck- fuck, don’t tell me you’re- oh. You are. Turns out I milked you dry, hm?” Something in him oh-so-triggered by the way you just kept on drippin’ from that pretty cunt, it’s as if the hybrid part of him knew that he had to do something to stop you from losing so much of it. “Rule number four, my sweet mate.”
But no bracing in the world could prepare you for what you felt in that very moment - because suddenly you’re feeling a strength so incredible that it’s as if you’re being split apart. “Your- your knot?”
“Damn right.”
You just had to see this for yourself. Chin hitting your chest as you watch Toji push n’ push the incredibly swollen base of his cock inside you. It was so round n’ red, about four times his actual circumference.
It sinks in with a lecherous sluuuuuurp—and Toji empties out a few more streaks of cum just from the sheer sensation of having his sensitive hilt sheathed inside of you. Isn’t that every bull’s dream? To have a mate as pretty as you, choking and overstimulated around his knot? Ready to take all of him until you’re pregnant-
“We’re mates now.” You’re still shivering from the shockwaves of your multiple highs, so overstimulated that you don’t hear his murmurs. Sobbing, you’re tugging cutely at his nipple piercings to garner his attention. “Wh-what was that, Toji?”
“I said–” Roughly, he pulls off from your lactating tits. Your milk drivels down either side of his greedy maw, “-that you know a bull’s rut lasts days, right, sweetcheeks?”
“Oh.”
“Guess we have a lot to learn…h-heh.”
.
.
.
Shiu was halfway through his drive to Tokyo.
Halfway through his window cracked down halfway, his dark hair playing in the breeze, head nodding in time with the beat of some early 2010’s pop hit that’d surprisingly managed to calm him down during his drive.
Sure, Kusakabe had completely ruined his plans and forced him to leave you unattended on the farm - but Shiu can’t help but almost feel grateful towards his friend.
After all, it’s not every day that he gets to go out like this - the life of a farmer sure was a busy one. And it was such a nice day out, driving along smooth and silent in his truck like this was almost therapeutic. He’s almost considering getting an apprentice or two so that he’d be able to do this more often. He really thinks he could find inner peace like this, maybe all those self-help magazines he grimaced at in convenience stores were onto something. A man needs time for himself, too, y’know?
Yeah, time for himself. Time to just wind back, enjoy the highway, just appreciate the beauty of the world, y’know?
Halfway through a drive of peace and quiet, when he suddenly realizes-
And Shiu’s stepping so hard on the brakes that he wouldn’t have been surprised if about five other cars smashed into him from behind right about now. And he wouldn’t have noticed, either—”I left the gate of the bull in rut fucking unlocked-”
Immediately after he remembered, Shiu had gone and done a (likely illegal, most definitely illegal) U-turn right then and there. Heading right back where he came from, he’d cut off multiple cars, almost run over some unsuspecting old lady in his haste to get back to his farm - Kusakabe be damned, his best friend could rot in Tokyo until the end of time for all he cared. After all, he was the one that caused all this!
Shiu made it back home in less than half the time it took him to halfway down his journey to Tokyo (he’s sure he ran a few red lights).
And he’s fumbling with the keys of his gates, forgetting his truck and sprinting right up to where his cattle hybrids were. All cooped up inside the pen, they hadn’t gone into the barn still - and yet, with one sweeping glance, Shiu can’t really find any missing.
So he almost dares to breathe a sigh of relief- before his eyes catch the placement where Kusakabe’s bull had resided. Where Toji resided.
And Shiu’s heart drops at the same time as his jaw.
It was empty.
Quickly, he’s suspecting just why the cows and bulls outside weren’t going inside the barn, and Shiu takes another look at his herd—fuck!! Fuck, fuck, fuck - there was one missing.
And he knew exactly who it was.
In urgent, jerky motions, Shiu’s throwing open the gate to the pen (this time double-checking to lock it behind him) and heading straight towards the barn.
The barn where he can hear the rustling of hay, where he can smell the saturated sweetness of hybrid pheromones, where he can see—oh, you on your hands and knees, with your pretty ass raised high in the air for Toji’s cock to plough into, his powerful body. You’re all sprawled out on the hay, saliva and milk splashing out of you at a constant pace. You mewled as he stretched out your cunt so mercilessly, again and again and again. The plump knot ‘round his base hitting your pussylips with almost painful thwacks!
And by the ribbons of miry cum that clung onto both your lower halves, Shiu was safe to assume that this certainly wasn’t the first round…
Shiu’s nostrils flare, and he’s realizing that this wasn’t just the heady scent of Toji’s rut - it was your heat, too. That luscious creamy smell that made his mouth water, and his cock twitch in his pants as he took in the sight-
BZZZZZZZZ—!
Thank god his phone was on silent mode- Shiu hastens to pick it up before either of you can hear. Though, he doesn’t think he’s very successful with it.
Because just as Shiu places the crackling phone against his ear, whispering out a quiet- “H-hello?” He sees that Toji’s smug, handsome head turns in the direction of the barn door. And he’s smirking straight at the other man as he claims every inch inside of you, Toji’s honed tip pinpointing into every tiny nook and cranny.
And if that wasn’t enough, he’s leaning down to grab onto your leaky tits- and squeeeeeze out a pure white stream of your milk. Much more than Shiu’s ever been able to tease out of you during milking sessions.
He was making his mate known.
Slowly, Shiu backs out of the barn without you noticing (though, you were so deep in the waves of your carnal pleasure, that he thinks it would’ve been impossible to get your attention anyways).
Only once he’s out of the headiness of the barn does Shiu finally manage to register the other man’s voice-
“Hello? Helloooooo? Man, where are you now-”
“Hey, Kusakabe.” Shiu speaks, still slightly dazed. Still slightly staring through the barn doors from afar - all because of a fucking gate. “Take the next train here from Tokyo- no, don’t worry about your truck, you can pick it up later. No, you don’t need the cattle trailer anymore.”
Kusakabe sputters, “Huh? But why?” At the other man’s silence, one could almost hear the moment that understanding sets in. “Oh man- oh wait, don’t tell me that Toji and that sweet cow hybrid of yours has-”
“Yeah.” Shiu grits, and he pinches the bridge of his nose. “Unrelated, but would you happen to know any good names for calves?”
A/N. YOU ASK AND DADDY PROVIDES (not child support tho-) YES I SAW Y’ALL IN THE COMMENTS-
Despite literally posting every day on here for over a year now, I've been flagged as mature. This was not by 'ai' either, this was user reporting despite the fact that I tag everything properly, and make sure to slap MDNI on everything, put proper warnings and throw tw in the hashtags.
I appealed but I'm just exhausted of this all, and it's a shame because it's clearly my passion that I put so much work into and now no one will even be able to see it unless they have that enabled. So I will not be posting on here any longer unfortunately if that's how Tumblr is going, it's shame I spent so much time making over 2 million words and met 35k of you to have some random person report me.
Also it's very disheartening considering the amount of notes, followers and comments I have that Tumblr clearly doesn't care about their creators. I see LITERAL porn and unlabeled smut so it's a shame they've decided to not treat me fairly.
My ao3 is here for any current stories on here, feel free to subscribe to me there.
Patreon is here for my exclusive series, and likely where I'll do any new oneshots/drabbles as I don't usually put them all on ao3. (popped on a discount)
Thanks for those who supported me and hopefully I'll see you on one of those platforms since someone clearly just has it out for me and keeps reporting me nonstop. Thanks to that person, you'll get me off here and on to other projects(maybe that book).
If I get my blog back I'll consider coming back here but it's all just up in the air and I'm utterly just disappointed in how it's going.
You're married to Satoru Gojo - an arrangement since your childhood, one you're so excited for. You soon find out - he wants nothing to do with you. Any one is preferable, from the waitress at your engagement party, to his secretary. Torn apart by insecurities and devastated by the fact that you can't make this one sided affection work, you decide to find something to keep you going until Gojo finds a way to end the marriage. That's what lands you right in the notorious boxing ring in town - led by Ryomen Sukuna, who finally sees you.
pairings - Arranged! Gojo x Reader x Boxer! Sukuna
warnings!! - Heavy angst, cheating, Satoru is cruel and mean, reader starts off very shy/insecure, Soft Sukuna but he still don't mind being buried inside married reader, a fuck ton of feelings, eventual smut, explicit, mentions of insecurities. This chap - sexual tension like a MF, reader growing as a character, obsessed Sukuna, Gojo is still horrible, kissing, fingering, guided masturbation. Mostly Sukuna/reader this chap and their relationship - also MORE angst.
This WILL have multiple endings, all of these three are gonna be messy. Told from Reader, Gojo and Kuna's POV based on this drabble - WC - 11k
<<<part one
part two
You
You wish that you could turn off your feelings.
Easier said than done, right? To make yourself stop wanting Satoru Gojo, to act like him walking around shirtless didn’t make you ache, that seeing him pleasuring that girl in the office hadn’t made you wonder. Him tumbling into the door with her and kissing her on the wall when he didn’t know you were home, lifting her and grabbing her thighs as she clung to him.
You wonder what it would be like to be desired in that way, staring at the two of them and earning a little look from that woman’s face, a mean, nasty little look that damn near makes you sick. Satoru pauses, looking back with lipstick all over his mouth smeared, but he doesn’t smirk like he did in the office, he pauses just a bit, eyeing you in the little crop top and yoga pants you’re wearing.
His blue gaze slips across your body calculatingly, before he eases her down, turning over to you. “I thought you were ‘boxing’?”
“I am going soon,” you manage to mumble, hugging yourself suddenly insecure, seeing her in her pretty dress as if she’d been on some date with your husband. “I’m sorry.”
You’re apologizing again, for existing in Satoru Gojo’s proximity.
Always a very soft and obedient girl, last night was the first time you stood up to him in any way, and you were met with immediate regret, wondering why you couldn’t be enough for him to at least try. Why weren’t you perfect enough, pretty enough, worth enough for even a kiss, a look, anything?
You had laid in bed thinking of Sukuna and then realizing how dumb and foolish those thoughts were, how pathetic you are for this man who has given you nothing. What, a brief moment where he asked you to eat? Did that make up for making sure his Secretary came before he was able to speak to you?
You’re not sure you hate him yet.
You hate yourself though.
“I’ll be gone in like twenty,” you mumble a bit, Satoru leans down, lips a glossy red like she wears, pressing together.
“You’re apologizing again, for living here?” You nod then, looking down and hearing him sigh. “You’re not gonna make me like you.”
“I’m not trying to,” you wring your hands together, blinking back tears as she sighs and walks right over to the fridge like she fucking lives here. Your jaw sets, breaths coming in short little pants, he grips your chin, tilting your gaze to focus on him. “I’m not.”
“You’re exactly who they programmed you as,” he laughs without humor. “I almost feel sorry for you.”
“Don’t.” Your voice steels just a bit, hating how good his fingertips feel grazing against your skin. “I’ll get my things.”
“Satoru…”
He’s not listening to her as he casually follows you, raising a brow at the pink gloves you bought, slipping his hands in his pockets and leaning in the doorway. “You boxing, huh?”
He laughs softly.
Your teeth clench together.
“You can go fuck her, don’t let me interrupt,” you say then, struggling to gather yourself, chest rising and falling as you snatch up your ear buds, the little water bottle you bought, a few things in a bright pink bag you brought with you from home. You hastily snatch it up, throwing it over your shoulder and seeing he’s still in the doorway studying you.
It’s quiet when you stand in front of him, his fingertips brushing your cheek in a way they shouldn’t, you detest yourself more when you tremble from it. He shakes his head, letting his hand fall, eyes glinting cruelly.
“You’d sink to your knees if I called you pretty, wouldn’t you?” You gasp, stepping back for a moment, as his fucked ass words sink in.
“Go to her,” you murmur. “Why even talk to me, I’m nothing to you.”
“I see how you look at me even now,” he scoffs, brushing his fingertips down your shoulder, tilting his head curiously. “Do you touch yourself when you hear me?”
He draws out those words, leaving goosebumps along your skin, your breaths come quicker. “What?”
“Do you touch yourself,” he leans down, that mean smirk quirking up even more, as he clearly thrives in embarrassing you. “Listening to me fuck her?”
“No!? I’ve never even…” You blush furiously and trail off, you can’t just say that to him, give him more ammo to hurt you.
He raises a brow. “Never?”
“Why do you care, we won’t do that,” you mumble, blood pressure rising so much you feel dizzy, like you can’t catch a breath. “But no. I haven’t, so I don’t touch myself.”
“You’re that much of a good girl for mommy and daddy, huh? Staying all pure for me of all people,” a tear slips from your eye, his gaze watches it trail down without bothering to swipe it away. “What a waste.”
“A waste?” It’s not like you ever even wanted to have sex with someone before. Your jaw sets now, eyes shutting for a moment, another tear traitorous in its escape. “Not all of us love to whore around.”
“Whore around huh,” he crosses his arms now, watching your eyes flicker open. “Admit it.”
“Admit what!?”
“That you’d do anything if I asked,” you swallow down the pain, biting down on your lower lip as his voice drops an octave, a mean caress that sends shivers down your spine. “If you asked pretty enough maybe I’d let you suck me at least.”
Your pause earns his smirk.
“Holy fuck, you would? Hmm,” his cruel gaze gets darker, snowy lashes flickering just a bit. “I guess I’d consider that, but I wouldn’t touch you.”
“I don’t want to,” you finally breathe out. “I wouldn’t… do that with someone who hates me, who doesn’t even want me to exist.” Satoru blinks a bit when you slip your bag higher on your shoulder. “I’m glad that you didn’t.”
It’s utterly quiet.
“Please move.”
He steps aside and you pass by his dumb fucking secretary sitting right at the chair you do, her blouse unbuttoned, just smiling at you, the anger rising like bile in your throat. You’re humiliated again, and you almost said you would – you’d do damn near anything if the man you’d been infatuated with – promised to at that, gave you a tiny bit of attention.
It was all a game to him.
“Have fun boxing,” she has the audacity to say, laughing just a bit at you in the fucking place you live in, in the chair you cry in. You feel so much rage it doesn’t even feel like you – it’s like it belongs to someone else. “Your gloves are so cute!”
“Jennifer,” ah, that’s her fucking name, coming from Satoru’s lips. “Come over here.”
She hops up obediently and you turn to gaze at Satoru by his bedroom door, eyes unreadable, smirk off his face, you don’t even want to know what’s in his mind, even if it’s something half way decent for you. You don’t want to live like this, to have someone so blatantly disregarding your feelings.
“Could you all please keep it in the room?” You ask then, she giggles and Satoru raises a brow. “I live here too, for now.”
“You think the maids wouldn’t clean up all the cum from every surface?” you can’t believe him at that moment. “But yes, we can while you’re still in my home.”
His home.
He makes it dead ass fucking clear, as if you didn’t already know he hates you here, that none of this is going to last because he can’t wait to fucking have you out. You shut your eyes for a moment, hands pressing into the wood of the door before you rush out of the opulent, ostentatious home.
It was once a dream, to drive by Gojo’s home and imagine yourself as his wife, so enamored with the man you thought he was and the kindness you remembered as a child that it felt like a dream come true. Yet it was anything but that, it was all just a cruel joke, much like your life.
Satoru was right on one thing, you did everything to live up to your parents expectations, and that included remaining ‘pure’. If they even knew that you were headed in your car to go boxing of all places and things to do, they’d likely be appalled at you.
Ladies don’t do that – Satoru’s wife doesn’t do that.
Just the small thing for yourself makes you smile a bit, hands gripping the wheel tightly, you swear you see Satoru’s curtain flutter, who knows maybe he’s got her pressed up on the window, pleasuring her and making sure the world knows how he wants anyone but you.
It shouldn’t hurt this bad, you were trained to be the perfect wife even if Gojo did cheat, and you could handle it, as taught.
Yet he didn’t even touch you, his words echoing in your ears and making you so ill you almost throw up remembering. Proving his point – you had so desperately been eager to sink to your knees right for him, if he’d just look at you with anything other than hatred, if he’d brush your hair back and give that look he had when he was with other women.
You can’t be everything your parents want if he divorces you anyway, it’ll bring so much shame on your family and there’s nothing you can do to salvage it, so you have to try to find who you are. You don’t even know – it’s so sad, if someone asked you what you liked you wouldn’t know what to say.
Who are you?
The thoughts keep coming as you sit in front of the boxing gym, so nervous now, not to do something new completely.
Sukuna makes you nervous.
You’ve not felt whatever it was when those ruby eyes hit you, whatever that gaze was on his handsome face. You’ve been hit on plenty, you’ve had boys have crushes on you, yet you had to remain ‘all intact’ and ‘proper’ so you never explored that. Even so, Sukuna looked at you differently, and it felt like a physical touch.
Satoru, it felt like an assessment – Sukuna, it felt like appreciation.
He saw things in you that you’re not sure are there from one meeting – that you weren’t eating, that you’re a mess, things you keep so hidden from even yourself, the perception terrified you. You don’t know what to think about it, how to interpret it, maybe you’re over thinking it too.
The dream last night didn’t help, him kissing up your throat, hand gripping your hair at the nape of your neck. To get him involved in any capacity was dangerous for your family’s reputation, and you’re ‘married’ so surely he wouldn’t want that. Yet those images make you blush.
Even as you walk in now and see a boy standing next to him that looks almost identical, just a shorter, younger version, you smile nervously and wave.
You feel Sukuna’s gaze assessing you, and just that alone is more than Satoru has given you in your marriage. The way he looks at you makes you feel…
Good… Was good the word?
Nervous, apprehensive, tummy fluttering. You swallow nervously, trying not to overthink it – You’re here to get stress out, and maybe to learn who you were, to find an existence away from being ‘Satoru’s wife’.
******
Sukuna
"Sukuna seriously," his annoying little nephew Yuuji is up at the gym with him today. The kid has a hell of a right hook and a hell of an annoying way about him.
Sukuna couldn't help but let him stay with him when he also wanted to get away from all the pressure that came with their family. But now the kid stays over far too much, bringing his friends over and soon dragging them all to the gym too. Sukuna has a bunch of teenagers constantly annoying the shit out of him.
Yet he can't complain, it's good for the business, and it keeps Yuuji and the other kids out of trouble. Yuuji is only eighteen after all, Sukuna is twenty-four – thus the 'mentor'.
Hah, what a mentor he must be.
"She's married!?" Sukuna glares now at the blurted out fucking statement, and Yuuji quickly hushes. "I mean... I know you're all ‘anti the family’ this and that but really?"
"Will you shut your trap kid," Yuuji glares right up at Sukuna, he's damn near a smaller version of his cousin, just with brown eyes instead of red. "I haven't done anything, she's just..."
You walk in then, as if on cue, holding your hands together in front of you nervously, some cute pink pair of boxing gloves that are ridiculous, pink duffel bag slung over one of your shoulders. He can't help but smirk a bit at how… cute, you’re fucking cute. Shy and adorable.
Yuuji eyes you as well, then him, curiously.
"Shit," Yuuji never cusses, so Sukuna raises a brow at him, seeing him run a hand through identical pastel locks. "That's her?"
"Don't say shit in front of her, if you do I'll make sure not to take you to Cabo this summer," Sukuna threatens, but Yuuji frowns, looking intently as you come closer. "Get it out now. Your moral high ground on my thoughts."
"She is very pretty," he murmurs, frowning. "And she does look... she looks so sad."
Sukuna pauses then. You give your best effort with a tremulous little smile, walking up to both of them, taking a breath and holding a hand out to Yuuji.
A forced smile, but it’s as pretty as you. What’s a real one look like?
"Hey there!" You say, Yuuji takes your hand in his, smiling sweetly at you.
"Hey there, welcome to the gym," He's friendly, sweet even. "We have lockers over there if you need!"
"Perfect I'll be right back," your eyes catch Sukuna's and his breath falters. He's never felt anything like wanting to fuck the sadness right out of your body. He knows it's already obsession, already fucking ridiculous. It doesn't stop him. "Sukuna, it's good to see you again."
"You're late," he teases gruffly, you sigh and glare a bit all cute, a look he didn't think he'd see, it does something to him. "Just a few minutes though. Go get ready."
You rush off and Yuuji puts a hand on his chest over his dark blue hoodie, wincing a bit. "Her pain, like I feel it?"
"Yeah," Sukuna mutters, the kid has always been... fuck, what's the word? Empath or some shit. "I know."
"Just... be careful Sukuna. You don't know who she's with."
"I'm not afraid of anyone, have you seen me?" Yuuji rolls his eyes.
"Yeah I saw you, and you couldn't even stop the drool from coming out of your mouth." Sukuna scowls, fists clenched at his sides, one step making Yuuji back up. "I've um... gotta go!"
"Nice to meet you!" You wave at Yuuji as you come out, in a little sports bra and shorts, as if to fucking torture him. Yuuji waves and smiles sweetly at you, leaving Sukuna alone with you in the quiet of the gym. "He looks just like you! Your little brother?"
"Annoying nephew," you laugh a little, the sound doing something to him again, fuck he doesn’t know what it is. Yuuji is right, he has to be careful, to try to hold back.
But holding back really isn't Sukuna's thing.
"So," he draws on the words, seeing how you hug yourself a bit around your waist, as if you're nervous to have it bare.
It takes a lot of effort not to just touch your body, make you feel as pretty as you are, see how those eyes could light up if you came all over his mouth, if he drank you. He knows he can't say that shit, so he instead teases you, tugging at the little ponytail you're wearing.
"Tell me where you got these dumb gloves, and you better tell me you've fucking eaten something too."
“They’re so cute, excuse me!” You cover your mouth then, eyes lowering. “Sorry that came out so rude-”
“I like it, see if there’s something feisty underneath all this,” he gestures to all of you then. “Perfect little girl, time to mess you up. Get you all sweaty and wrecked.”
He watches a blush dance on your cheeks underneath the bright lights overhead, you shift just a bit, nodding. “I want to see if there is, too.”
“You don’t know?” He asks, and you sigh, blinking back tears again.
Fuck what’s happened to you to make you constantly on the verge of them? Sukuna wasn’t some ‘mr fix it’ especially when it came to women. He liked things simple, fun, unattached, never has he been so obsessed with what’s going on in a mind like he is yours.
Be careful. Could he be?
“I want to learn who I am, I know I’m like twenty four and don’t know,” you shake your head a bit and sigh. “Quarter life crisis?”
He snorts at that. “You make jokes?”
“I don’t know,” you answer softly. “I’m trying?”
“Meh it wasn’t that funny,” he shoves playfully but you’re so damn weak you stumble, he grabs you quickly, holding you too closely. “You said you ate.”
“I did, I swear, just still feeling it I think?” Your hand rests on one of his biceps, he sees that blush up close, spreading down your neck. “I really ate dinner and breakfast!”
“Can’t box if you’re falling over and shit,” he sighs, his hands still on your waist, shaking his head a bit. “I’ll show you some basics, you just pay attention for now. I’m grabbing you a protein bar.”
“I’m okay!” Sukuna ignores you, coming back with a bar and shoving it unceremoniously in your hand. “Thank you.”
“Yeah, yeah,” he rubs the back of his neck, your eyes are too pretty looking up at him like that, and he needs to make you comfortable. Not do every filthy thing he keeps thinking of – fuck that sadness right out of you. How can he fucking think that? “Come with me, and you better finish it.”
“You’re bossy,” you tease, he snorts and rolls his eyes, feeling the warmth of your skin with your close proximity. “It’s good!”
“Hmm, you’re just starving, those suck,” you sigh, chewing thoughtfully, when he shows you to the training area. “You need some muscle so I suggest doing some light weights first, then next time maybe I’ll let you hit a bag.”
“Got it,” you murmur, mouth just a little full, the wrapper crinkles a bit as you down it. “Maybe I was hungry? I’ve not had an appetite.”
“Yeah, sounds like…” He trails off now. “You have stress at home.”
You laugh a little without humor. “You could say that.”
Sukuna’s jaw tightens just a bit, feeling his teeth press together in irritation at the thought of whatever has you like this. Yet in just a good twenty minutes you relax your shoulders just a bit, you smile a little more real and not forced, he watches as you ease just a bit with every movement.
“These are tiny weights, I can do more,” you pout as he puts ten on each arm. Sukuna shakes his head. “I can!”
“Yeah champ okay,” he grabs twenties and watches your arms drop down, stabilizing you and smirking. “You’re a regular Arnold.”
“Oh hush!” He takes them and tugs and your pony tail again, you dab just a little sweat off your brow.
“You are bratty, see?”
“I am so not,” you get a little quiet at his hands on your wrists then, clearing your throat and looking down so shy and cute.
Sukuna would just corrupt you.
You’re clearly an innocent little thing and his thoughts are about as far from that as they could be, it’s hard to pull back and act casual – as if this is normal and he just grips on his clients’ fucking biceps. You’re so fragile then as he studies you for a heartbeat too long, you don’t move away, just staring up at him. Your pupils dilate and make your eyes too damn pretty.
“You good?” He manages to ask, rubbing the back of his neck, annoyed by whatever the fuck effect this is.
“I am, thank you Sukuna,” if your lips would stop moving like that, if your voice would stop sounding that way, maybe he would be all right and not throbbing just inhaling your scent. “You’re very sweet.”
“Me? Tch, m’not sweet,” he rolls his eyes as you giggle again, turning away so you don’t see the dopey grin on his face before he gets rid of it, turning back and raising a brow. “I’ll show you some movements and you can come hit the bag tomorrow.”
“Sounds good to me,” Sukuna wraps his knuckles as you look around a bit. “You are seeing me after the gym closes, you don’t have to.”
“I usually stay after anyway,” he just wants to fucking be alone with you. “Not a problem.”
“I’ll come a little earlier tomorrow, if that’s okay?” Your brows draw together.
“I don’t care, whenever, come hold this for me. I won’t accidentally punch you, don't worry.”
“I didn’t think so,” you go over and hold it, gasping when you feel the impact, looking at him curiously. “You think I’ll really be able to hit this thing?”
“Mmhmm, of course you will,” he takes it easy, even if you’re behind the bag he doesn’t want to scare you. He typically doesn’t have girls in the gym.
He shows you a few of the basics, and you study him carefully, he doesn’t realize he’s getting distracted until he stops punching and focuses on you, you’re watching him intently, your eyes flickering down his body, then to his lips before shooting back up to his eyes quickly.
Sukuna smirks a bit at you, walking around the bag to stand in front of you. “What is it?”
“N-nothing,” you squeak out, lashes trembling. “You look – I mean you are very good.”
He snorts at that, you’re too fucking cute. “Yeah?”
“Yes.”
He leans against the bag now, stepping closer and looking down at you “You’re were staring.”
“I didn’t mean to,” you whisper, eyes lowering. “I am sorry.”
“Don’t be, I don’t mind,” he murmurs back, his eyes lowering to your lips, watching them part just slightly. He leans in a fraction, your breath catches – he hears it, a sharp little inhale. “I’m just teasin’ ya, okay?”
Sukuna’s voice is soft to his own ears, he almost feels the need to be gentle when it comes to you, you’re so delicate and afraid. You nod and wring your hands a little bit in front of your lap. “I couldn’t help it.”
“I look that good?” He’s chuckling as you cover your face all cute. “It’s okay, I already know I do.”
“You’re teasing me!” He eases your hands down, sighing at the contrast of his huge hands around your wrists.
“Yeah, I was, don’t take me serious, yeah?” You nod and just stand there, when he drops his hands and clears his throat. “Finish up, then I’ll walk you out.”
You just stand there for a moment, breathing softly as he watches you bite your lip now, staring at him nervously. He wonders what you’d do if he just kissed you? He wonders how you’d taste, if you’d melt into him, if he could kiss you on every inch of your body.
He can’t be this way.
“Okay,” you whisper, turning away to grab your stuff quickly. He walks you out silently to the back exit, the cool air whipping your hair around – this time of year, it was chilly and dark early. “Time went quick.”
“Yeah,” he looks at you carefully then. “What had you almost in tears this morning, or can you not tell me?”
You tug your bag closer, sighing. “The other woman was just… in my fridge and on my couch and it threw me off.”
“Other woman?” You nod. “In your house?”
“Yeah, I could handle it if maybe he could keep it to his room,” Sukuna’s brows raise now and you hesitate. “It had me upset more than usual.”
“You just… are okay with it?” You look down at his lips once more, if you don’t stop doing that he’s gonna lose his tentative control. “Why?”
“It’s arranged, that sounds archaic–”
“Nah,” Sukuna sighs now. “Let me guess, rich family?”
“Yeah, are you?” He smirks. “The name sounded familiar? I don’t know how I didn’t put it together.”
“Yep,” he drags out that word with a pop of his lips. “I’m from that shitty ass line of family, I just decided to tell them all to fuck off. You should try it, it’s fun.”
“Saying ‘fuck off’ huh?” You giggle again, shaking your head as he smirks down at you. “That’s impressive to not bow under pressure.”
“I just wasn’t one for rules, decorum, I just don’t give a shit,” he shrugs a broad shoulder. “Arranged shit was in my parents’ plans but in that I also told them to fuck off. But that’s enough therapy.” He flicks your forehead, you rub it and glare.
“Ah, stay all mysterious,” you tease just a bit, hesitating and then turning. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”
“Mhmm,” you turn to look at him one more time, suddenly stepping forward and tip-toeing, pressing a gentle kiss to his cheek.
Fuck.
You should not do that.
“Thank you again,” you murmur shyly, stepping back quickly and rushing to your car like you’re embarrassed by the little action.
Sukuna jerks off that night to a kiss on the cheek from a shy, sweet little woman who is married, and wishes he felt worse about imagining decorating you in ropes of cum, but he really doesn’t. Moreso he’s irritated you’ve made him so pathetic in the span of a couple days.
He was fucked.
*****
You
You’re wolfing down eggs and bacon when Satoru walks out the next morning, eyeing you curiously at the array of food on the counter. You should tell him to fuck off really, just like Sukuna said you should tell everyone but some part of you would like to not hate Satoru Gojo, some part would like some sort of peace or even an understanding, for him to stop his cruelty to some extent.
So you smile, and he pauses, shirtless and just in his boxers, but your smile freezes on your face when you observe the dark hickies littering him right over his pelvis. It’s his turn to smirk as he walks closer to you, putting a coffee pod in casually, as if it’s normal to have hickies on your v cuts by your happy trail.
Why are you hurt, you knew he was with her?
“Good morning,” you manage to try to be cordial. “I made a big breakfast if you’re hungry.”
“You know I have cooks,” he says, nibbling a muffin then moaning, his snowy lashes fluttering shut. “Oh fuck.”
“I like to bake,” you say with a little shrug, he pauses as he watches you nibble your own. “It gives me something to do. I think I may… get a job or something.”
“Why, you have enough money you never need to even without me.”
“Why, to give me… something?” You say, shrugging a bit. “I’ve never been able to work other than at charity functions, so I guess my resume would be kind of shitty though.”
“You don’t need to work while you’re here, it would just look bad,” you blink again. “Maybe work with me but…”
“Yeah, no,” he chuckles, as if it’s funny. “Bad enough the secretary is over at my… your house, now.” You correct yourself, tension between you both rising as you stand in the kitchen, his eyes sweep over you.
“Going to box again?”
“I am,” you’re wearing a sweater over your top this time, hanging just a bit off your shoulder, his gaze drifts down to it. “I think I like it.”
“Ah,” he steps closer, leaning down. “You ever figure out how to touch yourself?”
“If I did I wouldn’t do it thinking of you,” he glares and you smile now. “You’d be the last guy in my mind.”
“Sure, sweetheart, keep tellin’ yourself that, I see how you look at me,” you scoff, tensing when he brushes his fingers on your shoulder. “I can tell by every reaction you want me.”
You smack his hand off and he smirks. “You told me we’d never do anything, be anything, so stop trying.”
“Ah, you gave up on your little goal? Don’t wanna leave better marks on me than Jennifer?”
You feel sick.
“You know what, Gojo?” He raises a brow. “You’re not just mean, not just cruel, you’re sadistic, like you don’t just want me gone, you want to torture me.”
It’s quiet now, you blink back tears of frustration, of pain, feeling your heart pound in your chest.
“I said I’ll not try again, and I mean it,” you look away. “Whether I want you or not, I never will.”
He continues his silence, when your gaze meets his it’s softer, blue eyes unreadable, as if there’s a hint of humanity in him. What a joke, what a delusion to think he’d have even the most basic empathy for you.
“I didn’t do anything to deserve how you act,” your whisper breaks in the middle, traitorous tears leaking. “All I did was try. Now I give up, you get what you want.”
Satoru’s fists clench at the sides, taking a breath now. “You’ll thank me.”
“I’ll what!?”
“You’ll thank me,” he murmurs again, slipping your sweater up over your shoulder, fingertips brushing. “For not letting you be with me, for letting you have your own choice.”
“Acting like you’re being such a great fucking guy,” you never cuss but it spills out, when out of frustration you shove at his chest, not like he’ll move, glaring up into his eyes. “Mr. ‘hold on let me cum’ really? There’s no world where I’ll thank you for what you’ve put me through these past few weeks.”
You rush out past him and hear him murmur your name, you ignore it completely, gathering your things and rushing out, tears swimming even as you drive over to the gym. How can Satoru continue to hurt you like this and then have the audacity to act like he’s being kind!?
You barely get yourself together, peering in the mirror to fix yourself up, dabbing concealer to hide your sleepless night. It was hard to sleep when your husband was loudly moaning across the house, and when you kept thinking about Sukuna and the little kiss on his cheek.
Was it too far? Would it be weird?
Why do you want his lips so bad? Sure, he’s handsome, but the pull is more than that, as if you know he’d be able to kiss you the way you always dreamt – as much as you’re trying to hold back, it’s there. The feeling when you step into the busy gym, seeing Sukuna training in the ring with his nephew, he tackles him down and laughs so loud it echoes off the walls.
“Hey! Off me!” Yuuji shoves at him, but he’s way bigger, you blush as you think just how huge Sukuna is, he’s even taller than Satoru and you thought that pretty impossible. “You cheated!”
“Didn’t cheat, kid, you just weren’t paying attention,” his gaze hits you then, and he falters, only to get slammed down by Yuuji quickly.
“Hah! Got you,” Sukuna smacks his hand away as he grins, he’s literally adorable, the sunshine to Sukuna’s grumpy nature. Your heart tugs just a bit with affection at the sight, when Yuuji sees you and waves. “Hey, did you see me stomp his ass?”
“I did,” Sukuna snorts and stands on his own, brushing off his gym shorts, leaning a bit against the ropes and taking you in. “Hey Sukuna.”
“You’re actually on time,” he peeks at his watch. “Early.”
“Breakfast too,” you grin and he chuckles, suddenly it’s like that gym is just white noise and it’s all him, hopping over the ropes and down the platform, the sounds of sneakers squeaking on hardwood and punches drowned by your beating heart. He comes to stand and cross his arms, ruby eyes assessing you. “Protein, it was all protein filled.”
“Good,” he ruffles your hair like you’re Yuuji, you huff a bit, but part of how touch starved you are? You want him to keep patting your head, almost leaning into the quick little touch.
What’s wrong with you?
He’s friendly, kinder than you are used to – your own parents were not much better than Satoru, yet their cruelty was more in dismissing you, in the strict nature they raised you, the coldness. You grew up privileged and know you shouldn’t feel sorry for yourself, but the pain was there, only having been made better by the dream of Satoru taking you far away.
Some dream, a cinderella tale, you’re not sure what the fuck you were thinking, were you enamored with his pretty eyes, his kindness? With Sukuna you had those butterflies like you did that night Satoru unzipped your dress, but it was without that sinking feeling in your stomach.
The next couple days you spend at the gym – sometimes watching him, sometimes training a bit, the people there are all so friendly it feels nice. You find yourself there longer than usual, a little stronger, you keep waiting for Sukuna to let you spar or something cool, but he eases you into a few different things.
You enjoy him so much you find yourself staying after and wiping down equipment, seeing him raise a brow and laugh at you, telling you to go. But what’s waiting at home? Satoru and whoever he decides to bring home for the evening? It’s not just the secretary, you wish that it was only her in fact, she at least pretended to be a little nice to you.
You’re not sure if Satoru even works or if he just gets his dick wet.
You pass him in the morning and see one of them knocked out in his bed with the door cracked open, and that’s when you feel a deeper pain, eyeing him sleeping next to her. They’re not cuddling, but she’s sleeping in his bed. Alone in the room that was made for the two of you, staring up at the ceiling and touching your lips, thinking of kissing Sukuna then.
You can’t.
You shouldn’t.
Two wrongs don’t make a right, but something about that sends you over the edge – pushes you to where you don’t feel so terrible thinking of what you want to do. It’s just a step further even for him, your interactions get even shorter, he doesn’t taunt you as much since you got upset in that kitchen, but now it’s like living in a home where you’re unwanted.
You can’t wait to leave, for whatever he needs to figure out to cause the least scandal, you’re tired of smiling on his arm for the get togethers, only to sit on opposite sides of the backseat of that limo in the quiet. You’re lonely until you go to that gym, but you know it’s nonsense, Sukuna has not tried to kiss you or cross that line, even when his touches linger.
He’s a good man, a good uncle clearly, maybe a good friend – and all you can think half the time is those tattooed hands touching you longer, in places you know you shouldn’t want them. Trailing your hands up his biceps and feeling the strength in them, falling into his kisses until you’re dizzy.
It’s hard not to think of it when you watch his body move.
He’s shirtless today as if to distract you more, the way he’s built is enough to make you miss your punch, earning his chuckle, teasing glint in his ruby eyes. “Distracted?”
“No,” you’re such a liar. This morning threw you off seeing that girl in his damn bed, and now you can’t stop staring at your trainer’s body. “Just a bit.”
“What’s on that mind of yours?” Everyone has left for the day, you and him are all alone in the enormous gym, your pink gloves on your hands.
“A lot,” you murmur, punching the bag again and again, remembering to cross as he showed you, then wincing a bit as your wrist twists. “Ouch!”
“Bad angle, lemme see,” he carefully slips it off, thumb brushing your inner wrist, you suck in a breath. “I think you just kinked it a bit. Does it hurt to move?”
You shake your head, but you don’t move your hand, you keep it in his grip, biting down on your lip so hard it hurts. He’s too close, too fucking big all over – you shouldn’t think of everywhere. Not like you’ve even seen one aside from Satoru after he’d been inside that ‘jennifer’ whatever the fuck her name was, and that didn’t make you ‘excited’.
You’re curious at times, at how wet you get around Sukuna, but as a sheltered girl who was hardly allowed friends – and they’re all trad wives – there hasn’t been much talk. ‘Let your husband do anything and just live that way’ was damn near their advice – though that did land you here, after all.
“You’re real distracted,” you sigh, nodding. “Lemme guess, your husband has a new girl over?”
“She slept in his bed,” you blink back emotion, shaking your head, Sukuna just quietly checks your wrist, moving it a bit. “You’d think I couldn’t hurt anymore, couldn’t feel anymore pain about it.”
“I think you’re surprisingly calm about it,” he says then. “Arranged or not, how would anyone not want you?”
Your world shifts on its axis at his gruff little confession, you’re blushing furiously now, stepping a little closer, feeling his warmth near you sink in. “Sukuna, that's sweet.”
“You keep trying to call me that,” he shakes his head – thumb slipping across the delicate veins raised on your inner wrist. “I’m not sweet.”
“You are to me,” he scoffs. “You make me feel better, that is sweet.”
“The things I’m thinking are as far from fucking ‘sweet’ as they can be,” you gasp then, when his hand slips up your arm, before he stops himself, pulling back when you wish he wouldn’t. “How innocent are you?”
“Very,” you admit. “But you could tell me what you’re thinking.”
“Hah,” he has one arm on either side of you when you press against the bag you’d just been hitting, he’s right behind you, cupping your face with a calloused, rough hand so big it takes you over. “You’d run out the door if I told you half of it.”
He backs off then, leaving you trembling, hand on your chest, going to open your mouth when he hops down as if to rush away from you. Terrified you’ve fucked it all up you hop down too, rushing to get your bag, Sukuna comes back with a little brace for your wrist and glares.
“You running off?”
“I made it weird,” you mumble, suddenly so insecure. If your own husband could fuck anything but you, what made you think Sukuna would want you being married, complicated, messy.
“I was just getting a wrap, get over here,” he tugs you over to him, sitting you on one of the cool metal benches. “Your wrists will toughen up in time.”
“Okay,” every time he touches you it sends waves of desire, your teeth clamp down on your lower lip, trying to focus. “Thank you, I’m sorry.”
“You’re sorry you hurt your wrist?” You nod, making Sukuna sigh now, shaking his head. “Stop apologizing for the dumbest shit. You’re fine.”
It’s awkward when you leave this time, too much between you both, your doubts raging even as you come home. For once, Satoru has no girl there, dressed in a suit and gazing over at you, gaze rushing across your body. He has no business looking that pretty and being that cruel.
“You’ve been training a lot,” he mentions, tilting his head curiously. “Every day seems excessive.”
“I like it,” you slip off your sweater, a little warm with the heat blasting, and then you feel his eyes hit your breasts. “Sorry it’s warm.”
You’re apologizing again.
For ‘dumb shit’. Is that just what you do, what you’ve always done?
“We have an event in an hour.” You nod and rush off to get ready, struggling into your dress so you don’t have to ask him for help again, he stands by the bathroom, the door open, crossing his arms. “What happened to your wrist?”
“Oh, I twisted it,” you take off the little velcro now. “It probably would look bad with the outfit.” He just shrugs, eyeing the marks left from the brace. “Do I look all right? I don’t think I have time to do makeup.”
“I guess,” that’s his answer.
‘I guess.’
You suppose it’s better than him telling you he’s unattracted again, you already know that now, looking at yourself in the mirror and hastily trying to do something with your hair. “What’s the event?”
“Some dumb fucking charity auction,” he eyes his phone now. “I thought that Jennifer told you.”
“No, she did not,” you scoff then, looking at him. “You ask your mistress to send me your itinerary?”
“She’s my secretary so yes, that’s what she’s for,” you can’t with him, especially his mean little smile. “That make you mad?”
You say nothing, you’re not taking his obvious bait – pushing past him quickly and grabbing your clutch, seeing a pair of black lace panties underneath the little glass side table then. Your jaw sets, glaring over at him.
“I asked you to keep the fucking to your room,” he frowns, looking down now, sighing. “What the fuck, Gojo?”
“I didn’t fuck her out here,” he answers with a shrug. “Just fingered her.”
You blush and he laughs softly, walking up to you, tilting your chin so that you’re forced to meet his gaze.
“Haven’t been fingered even?” You refuse to answer, jaw setting, not wanting to give him the satisfaction, his fingers drifting down your dress, achingly slow, blue eyes dilating just a bit. “You’re all heated thinking of it, huh?”
The backs of his knuckles drag against your puffy folds over your dress, you bite down on your lip, hating what his eyes do, when they look for a moment like maybe he would want you. You grip his wrist firmly though, shocking him for a moment when you shove his hand off.
“Aren’t we late?”
*****
Gojo
“Satoru,” his best friend frowns at him, seeing you across the room sitting alone, avoiding everyone and everything. “She looks miserable, the fuck are you doing?”
“She’ll be free soon enough,” Suguru narrows his eyes, Satoru’s mind goes to earlier when you gripped him so damn strong out of nowhere.
What sort of working out were you doing, and with who? The thought of someone touching you makes him unreasonably jealous, considering any time he did you froze like you did. He almost felt your heat, imagining the slick, perfect little cunt you must have that he actively turned down.
Now it’s driving him insane, you are gone all the time, not even bothering to look at him. Isn’t this what he wanted, you to hate him, to get over your dumb crush and realize he’s not worth it? Satoru will never love anyone, he knows that he's not capable of it any more than his parents were capable of loving him.
He supposes Suguru was as close as he got to ‘loving’ someone, though even his best friend was done with his shit clearly.
“She seems really sweet,” Satoru sighs.
“She is annoyingly sweet. And perfect. And pure.” He says it with disdain.
“So you need an average, slutty ass secretary?” Satoru rolls his eyes, sipping on his whiskey. “I’m sorry everyone knows.”
“Good, give the Gojo name a scandal,” his lips quirk up. “She is too sweet for someone like me anyway.”
“I don’t understand why you’re going that far,” Suguru says, shaking his head. “Have you even looked at her? If you had to be arranged, wouldn’t you want it to be someone like her?”
“You like how she looks so much, you go fuck her,” Suguru glares at him, and Satoru tenses when he realizes you’re walking past right behind Suguru, looking up at him with devastated eyes.
Those eyes.
He didn’t love to hurt you, despite what you thought, he just needed you to give up, to not have any feelings, and you still seem to. Still seem to respond to him, still try for whatever reason. He’s given you no possible sign that he feels what he feels, that he does want you, he does think you’re beautiful, he couldn’t say that shit when he’s finally got you shoved far enough away.
Yet he hates himself for it, loathes himself for the tears in your eyes as Suguru turns and sees you, flush on his cheeks, scowling back at his own friend. Satoru opens his mouth then closes it, seeing that you’re about to break apart hearing it – that he told his best friend to go fuck his wife because he won’t.
“Let’s dance, hmm?” Suguru asks you, and Satoru watches you take his hand and nod, swiping a tear with a tremulous smile.
“Yes please,” Satoru watches you both, leaning back against the wall, studying how his hand takes over your waist, how you seem…
Happy at that moment.
“Satoru Gojo,” his mother’s voice is in his ear, right next to your parents, he blinks just a bit. “We’d like to know what’s going on.”
“Is she not doing good enough?” Your mother asks, Satoru frowns then, blinking just a bit.
“We tried our best to make sure she was perfect for you,” that’s your dad, sighing and pinching the bridge of his nose. “Is she giving you trouble?”
“Is she giving me trouble?” He’s dumbfounded at their question, looking back at you on the floor.
“You could stand to keep your affairs discreet,” his mother chides. “You don’t need to flaunt them around even if she’s not adequate.”
Not adequate – you.
This is why he fucking hates this.
“We can keep her for a bit, if she needs more polishing.”
“She’s not a fucking golden retriever who needs training,” he says then, earning their surprised looks. “She’s polished to a tee, I assure you.”
“Then surely there’s more we can do, she does look disheveled," your mom says, Satoru swallows down guilt now.
This would only look bad on you. He’s a Gojo, he can do whatever the fuck he wants, he’s a man and you’re…
“I’ll dance with her, yeah?” He gets them to shut up for now, he’s still got too much going on, trying to find the best way to annul the marriage without you getting hurt in the process.
Well, more hurt.
When he cuts in, you’re stiff in his arms, he tugs you against him, remembering the first dance he had, where he had the maid’s cunt all over his fingers. You tried even then, pathetically trying when you look like that, and it all starts to make sense why you are so desperate, meeting them.
“Act like you enjoy it, they’re on my ass,” he says gruffly. He doesn’t want to hear more shit about you ‘training’ or getting ‘polished’ but he doesn’t tell you that, his hand on the small of your back. “Smile like you did at Suguru.”
“I like Suguru,” you say softly, a mean smile on a usually shy, soft face, stabbing Gojo in the heart. “I don’t like you.”
He chuckles now, leaning low and murmuring your ear. “That’s perfect.”
*****
You
You’re extra aggressive after that night, after hearing him so casually not just dismiss you as a woman but tell his friend to ‘have at it’.
You’re imagining his dumb pretty face as you punch the bag over and over, Sukuna is quiet, it’s early before he even opens the gym but when you asked to come he had no problem, he was there early anyway. You couldn’t stand one more moment not hitting something, all of the energy you’ve spent crying over Gojo, over your fucking parents.
Coming to you all ‘disappointed’ when you’ve done NOTHING but try, what’s it got you, what’s anything get you? Perfect, perfect, perfect – for what. It keeps racing in your mind until you feel sick to your stomach, breaths coming in short little pants, hitting it so hard you almost tweak your sore wrist, but you welcome the pain, until Sukuna steps back.
“Hey,” Sukuna is dabbing a little washcloth on your brow, you're shaky and overheated from punching that bag so damn hard. The cool cloth feels good against your clammy skin, you sigh, eyes fluttering shut. "Feel better?"
"Actually yes," you look up into those ruby eyes that hold so much in them, lost for a moment. He grabs you a water and twists it open, you drink from it – a little drop slipping across your chin, he swipes it with ease, making you tremble.
Fuck you want him, you want to feel what it’s like, whatever he thinks you’re ‘too sweet and innocent’ to hear. You want to know what’s behind those eyes, so fucking guarded, but you don’t know how to say it when you stand in that ring with him. It’d be so selfish to drag him into your fucked life, but for some reason he deals with you, he spends the time.
Your friend, he’s your friend right?
Yet when Sukuna’s sooty pink lashes lower, and his hands gently fix one of your bobby pins up, you catch his wrist without thinking. He pauses, teeth glinting with his little grin. "Practicing self defense against big ass pink haired men who touch your hair, huh woman?"
You know he's joking with you, but you step closer, breath catching when you inhale his scent in your nostrils. Not that obnoxious cologne Satoru wears, it's real and male and musky – sweat mixed with something inherently him. It shoots straight to your core, the need for him in every single way, drawing you in like a moth to a flame, like his gravity is pulling you.
Sukuna exhales, letting you put his hand on your cheek, so big and tall over you, shadows casting across the boxing ring.
“Treading in dangerous territory, brat,” he murmurs, but he doesn’t move your hand, letting you slip your fingers across the jut of his jaw, feeling his pulse fluttering when it slips across his neck.
"I don't want to get you involved in my mess, Sukuna," you say then, catching his attention, pulling back ever so slightly.
"Maybe I don't mind a mess," you sigh, looking at his plump lips, his tattooed hand tugging you closer by the waist until you’re almost against him. "Messes are my specialty. Wanna know why?"
You swallow nervously, trembling in front of him, sweat making you shiver just a bit as the AC kicks on overhead, cooling sweat soaked skin. "Why?"
"Because, I'm damaged too, I just hide it better than you," you shut your eyes for a moment.
"I've only kissed once," he blinks a bit, frowning. "So maybe I'll suck at this."
"What now-"
That's when you - Mrs. Gojo - tiptoe and kiss Ryomen Sukuna on his lips.
And that's when he drags you against him and presses your back on the ropes around the boxing ring, moaning. Hard body, hot and heavy, a thigh pressing where you've never been touched, making you whine out, lifting you like it’s nothing. His tongue slips past the seam of your lips, gripping you so tight you can’t breathe.
You don’t want to though, you want him to take all your breath away.
For the first time maybe ever, you feel so wanted, the way he devours you like he's waited forever for it, moaning against your skin and easing you down then, letting you slip down his body, cupping your face. Huge hands taking it over – his breath coming in pants, this look in his eyes, his pupils swallowing those irises until they’re black underneath those pink lashes.
“Don’t do that,” he huffs, shoulders heaving up and down.
“I’m sor-”
“I’ll fucking break you,” your tummy clenches in response, pussy drooling at his desperation, looking at you like you’re it. “Ruin your perfect little cunt, is that really what you want?”
“Ruin my… um… you…” You don’t even really get his terminology, but the way he says it just makes you slip your arms across his neck. “You didn’t mind the kiss, then?”
He laughs, shaking his head before a sorrow hits his eyes, brushing your hair back with one hand, the other pulling you close. “Do I mind it?”
“I haven’t done anything,” you admit, the insinuation clear as hands drag along the curve of your waist. “I don’t know if-”
Sukuna cuts you off with another kiss, tongue delving into the recesses of your mouth, holding you up so his thickness presses your needy cunt through the thin layers of your yoga pants and his gym shorts. You taste a hint of that coffee he had earlier – mixed with the light salt of his sweat dripping from his lips, groaning as he feels your thighs wrap him.
“Mmm, if you don’t go I’ll fucking break you,” you’re too far gone, just rolling your hips, making him suck in a breath while precum leaks and makes him sticky. His breaths mingle with yours, all the tension of this week coming to a head, he’s done holding back yet he still tries to. “M’not fucking kidding. Should go.”
“Do you want me to go?” His answer is somehow gently landing you on the white floor underneath your feet – now on your back – and spreading your thighs, pressing up between them so hot and thick. “Sukuna…”
“Don’t say my name that way, fuck,” his lips are all over you, tongues dancing so messy with that saliva dripping you blush. Your fingers trail down his abdomen, over the rippling muscles, feeling them tense and bunch. “What the fuck are you doing to me?”
“I don’t know,” you answer honestly, finding him then, watching his eyes flutter shut. “I wanna hear the things you won’t say.”
“You don’t.” His grip is on your wrist, pinning it over your head. Your breasts heave up and down, one of his hands slipping under your top, leaving goosebumps in their wake.
“I’ll tell you something I think,” he raises a slutty eyebrow, two barbells that make it even sluttier, just that look has you writhing under him, as you bite down on your lip. “Deal?”
“What’s your cute little comment, hmm? Wanna hold my hand?” You glare and he chuckles. “I love when you scowl.”
“I have never touched myself,” Sukuna’s face goes into shock, red eyes wide. “Never um… came. And last night, I thought of you and… I tried to. I don’t know what I was doing and it didn’t work, but I thought of you and was…”
“Don’t say it.”
You sigh, suddenly feeling bold with him.
“Wet.”
“Fuck me,” Sukuna’s taking back over your mouth, kisses more desperate and hungry by the moment, you’re soaked when he finds your puffy cunt for the first time, tentatively slipping a fingertip inside and hissing, you gasp out. “Cunt is way too small, I’d split you in half.”
Whatever he means you’re just wetter, gasping when he pulls it back before he gives you what you crave. Slick fingers on your lip, watching your blush for a moment before kissing your cunt off him, a hand now under your head so it doesn’t hurt pressing into the ring’s floor. Your thighs spread for more, arching your hips.
“Too fuckin’ pretty,” you shake your head, blinking tears and making him halt, scowling. “You are.”
“You’re-”
“If you say sweet I’ll bruise your cervix,” you’re a flustered mess at that, earning his groan of frustration, taking your hand in his, nipping your finger with his teeth, sharp pain pressing in. “I’ll make you a deal.”
“Deal?”
“If you can make yourself cum for me tonight, I’ll let you use my fingers tomorrow,” your fingers slip down your puffy folds guided with his own, before he pushes yours up. “Your clit, rub it.”
“It’s… ah!” Sukuna watches you jolt at your own touch, pulling your fingers away as if burned, cheeks flushing.
"Twitching I bet," he sighs, amused, hovering over you and putting your fingers back down. “Do you want me to make you cum tomorrow?”
You nod eagerly but you don’t feel ‘pathetic’ with Sukuna, he wants you just as desperately. “Y-yes.”
“Be a good girl,” you whine out, making him smirk just a bit. “Touch it again, little circles."
Those fingers find your clit again, this time obeying him and testing the little movements, shaky breaths overtaking you. Sukuna's eyes darken as he watches, his own fingers guiding your movements. “Sukuna… mnh!”
"Do it slower," he whispers, looking at you in this way…
Is this what it is, to be desired?
You’re shaking, wantonly playing with yourself in Sukuna’s boxing ring under his hungry gaze, rubbing circles over the sensitive bundle of nerves, hips jerking. A whimper escapes when you accidentally press too hard, when it jumps and gets so slick your fingers slip off almost.
“Too much!”
Sukuna's knuckles brush your inner thigh where slick has trailed, moaning and spreading it around until it’s glossy. "Keep going, imagine it's my fingers."
The thought sends heat from your core – little movements feeling so fucking good that your eyes are rolling back in your skull, his hot lips pressing kisses on your upper breasts, letting them gently bounce from your yoga top. When his tongue flicks over your nipple you’re about to shatter, whimpering in Sukuna’s ear as he keeps guiding your fingers.
Your slick drowns both of you.
“Go ahead,” he urges, looking down at you. “Lemme see how pretty you are when you cum for the first time.”
It’s heady and insane, lewd and filthy him watching you fall apart – you whine out as the first bit of that orgasm fucking destroys you, hips lifting off the cold mat as white stars burst behind your eyelids. The pleasure makes you dizzy, head falling back, back arching up as you ride it out, gushing in spurts in embarrassing amounts.
Your fingers fall weakly, opening your eyes to the blurry vision of Sukuna watching with lidded, dazed eyes.
“You did such a good job today,” you almost cry then.
Praise was something you’ve never gotten. Your breaths quicken, tits almost slipping up and out where he’d tugged at them, Sukuna gently moves your hand, his crimson gaze locks onto yours as he brings your fingertips to his mouth.
“Sukuna! You’re…” His long tongue swipes against your fingers in a circle, before he slips a filthy drag between them, lapping up all of your juices. “Tasting me?”
“Mmm, fuck,” he hums low in his throat, eyes fluttering shut as he sucks each little digit clean, his cheeks hollowing. He looks like he’s cumming – you think, you’re not sure.
You do know it’s the hottest thing you’ve ever seen, the sight of it pulls another broken moan from your throat, the obscene sound echoing in the gym's quiet, until there is no sound but that suctioned pop.
“I wanna bury my face in you,” his words are insanity, things you never thought you’d hear, hovering over you and pulling your thigh up so you feel him. “Then I wanna bury my cock, wreck you until you won’t walk out of here, pump you full until you drip me when you get home to your fuck ass husband.”
“Sukuna… I… you really…” He kisses you quiet, pulling back and laughing softly, huge body casting a shadow across you both, eyes dangerous, grin psychotic – white against his skin.
“That’s just a bit of my thoughts, you need to go before you’re not a virgin anymore,” he touches your lips thoughtfully. “I’d fill all your holes though.”
“All!? Um…” He pulls up and gently adjusts your clothing with precise fingers, kissing you again and again.
“Don’t let me corrupt you, just run off,” his words hurt, as if he’s not good enough for you, when that’s so not the case. “Shouldn’t even come back.”
“No,” is your answer. A firm answer you almost apologize for, his sigh loud as he runs a hand shaky through his hair. “I don’t want to run, if you don’t want me to.”
“Dangerous and dumb idea,” his hand entangles in the nape of your neck, his own breaths erratic. “If you do good tonight I’ll make sure you have my fingers. Will you cum thinking of them?”
“I’ll try to do it right,” you blush now, letting him stroke your back, sending shivers as you fall into another kiss.
You don’t want to go home.
When you go to leave, he pauses you, a hand on your shoulder. “He doesn’t hit you or some shit, yeah? Because I swear-”
“Never, I smacked him,” Sukuna sighs in relief. “It’s mental pain, not that. I promise.”
“Still fucked but,” he shakes his head. “If it ever got there I have a champion belt I can throw on.”
“I bet you do,” you smile, feeling cared for was new.
“Go.”
“One more?”
“No, won’t stop there,” he shakes his head and you turn, just for him to drag you back, kissing you over and over, as gone in you as you are in him, pulling back to brush your cheeks, sighing. “Now go.”
You don’t say anything, the intentions were clear, Sukuna wanted you in ways you knew nothing of other that watching Satoru and hearing things here and there, in ways that makes your clit still twitch. Cunt pulsing around nothing, hands shaky as you drive, a mix of pleasure, desire, and more.
Feelings, brand new and blooming, intense.
And guilt.
Why?
You walk up quietly to see Satoru standing in front of the porch, gaze flickering to you, as if he fucking knew somehow, smoking a cigarette. You blink for a moment, you didn’t know him to smoke, but then you don’t really know him, not at all. You walk up and go to open the door as he blows some of it out, leaned back on the railing, crossing his legs at the ankles.
“Your lips are swollen,” you suck in a breath, freezing and turning to look at him. “You bite them or get them bitten?”
“How would you even notice? You don’t notice me,” your words are carried by the chilled breeze. “Since when do you smoke?”
“Hah,” he inhales a drag, stepping near you, exhaling up and away. “I do smoke. I have.”
“Ah,” you look away then. “It’s shit for you but… I can’t say I care enough to tell you to stop.”
“Ouch,” his hand brushes your hair back, frowning. “Hair’s a mess.”
“Yep,” you won’t deny it if he asks, but he’s not owed a fucking explanation either. “You eat dinner?”
“Yeah there’s food in the kitchen,” he flicks his cigarette out, quiet.
“Where’s Jennifer? Or… Chloe? Is that her name?”
“I don’t have a woman every night,” you laugh then, Satoru eyes you. “I don’t.”
“Okay, it’s ‘not my business’ right, Gojo?”
He says nothing.
You’re tired of trying to see something in him, when he presses against you, your front against the door, tilting your chin and eyeing your lips carefully, thumb brushing over them. “You were kissing or sucking cock?”
“Wouldn’t tell you,” you lift your chin, looking up at him, feeling his grip tighten on either side of your chin. “I’m gonna eat.”
“Yeah.” He lets you go, you struggle inside, trying to catch a breath.
That night you think of him – of Sukuna’s ruby eyes and vermillion lips, of his hungry kisses and the way he looked at you. Even if it was fleeting, even if he was just in the moment, you never knew you could feel that way, feel so wanted, so beautiful.
You can’t stop thinking of the words.
Break you.
Fuck all your holes.
Fuck you’re pretty.
You touch yourself alone for the first time in your life tonight, and Satoru Gojo may have heard you outside your door, he may have stroked his cock right outside your door, head resting on it. He may be regretting things, he may desire you, hearing your sharp gasps as he knows you’re touching yourself, imagining you gripping those sheets and fucking yourself with your fingers.
It’s a sick thing to do, to jerk his cock to a girl he turned down, a girl he’s made hate him on purpose, one he’s acted like he doesn’t want, one that soon will be long gone and think of him as a traumatic fucking memory. Yet it doesn’t stop him from pumping his cock up and down with his fist, moaning quietly as you reach your peak so loudly.
Yet he doesn’t hear his name.
He hears you mumbling – Kuna.
Welp it just gets messier from heeerree <3 A/N here, plz don't hate on reader for being a 'doormat' she literally is traumatized and will have more character development as we go. You can hate on Gojo though LMAO!!! I hope you enjoy, I am so thankful for the love and look forward to hearing your thoughts!
Patreon for more exclusive fics - Kofi link (commissions here)🍷
The Parasite | serial killer!sukuna x yandere!reader (TBA)
synopsis: after so many years of trying and failing, you’ve finally found the one for you. he’s quiet, aloof, and keeps to himself— sukuna’s perfect. you already have him in the palm of your hands, the challenge now is to keep him.
cw: toxic relationship, serial killer sukuna, obsessive reader, joe and love vibes tbh lol, smut, fluff, angst, more to be added
notes: ik i said this would be for kinktober but this is taking over my brain lol. this’ll be a one shot! lmk if you’d like to be tagged
i lied about turning this into a one shot, i am impatient and will FOREVER be a multi-fic girly 🫶🏻 anyways, i think i might be posting chapter 3 tonight
content: ryomen sukuna x fem!reader, criminal sukuna, mentions of prison, drugs, guns, life of crime etc. this contains a good mixture of fluff, angst & smut. soft sukuna, yearn sukuna if you will, ooc sukuna but idc & never will (sue me), unprotected p in v, oral (f receiving), multiple positions, creampie, a very happy ending i promise!
eli’s notes: a reupload from my old blog so sorry if you've read this one, actually one of my most popular fics still unsure why because my writing was so shit lololol. fanart creds to @/woshihedawei on twt! enjoy this 7.9k word yap!
you met ryomen sukuna through some mutuals. back when you were still smart, still cautious. some house party with peeling paint, shitty music, way too many bodies and way too many red solo cups. you went with one of your girls yuki tsukumo—well, got dragged along. she was pointing people out, talking fast, already tipsy. you were half listening, half not giving a fuck then she leaned in and whispered over the rim of her drink.
“and that’s ryomen. don’t. he’s like crazy. like—jail time type of crazy.”
your ears perked up like a dog.
“jail time?” you asked, with a stupid fucking smirk and then you saw him.
sitting on a shitty couch, red eyes glaring around the room. black tattoos on his face, crawling down the back of his neck, his arms, clearly all over. all ink and muscle and attitude, dragging a veiny hand through a soft pink buzzcut, smoking a blunt. his shirt half unbuttoned, a tatted hand in his pockets like he could kill you or kiss you and you’d say thank you for both.
and to your surprise, he looked in your direction as you mindlessly walked to up him like you’d been shot by cupid. he smirked, looking you up and down like he already knew you’d walk over.
“you lost?” his voice was low, rough and very amused.
you shook your head. “nope.” sitting on his lap anyways.
and you swore it was just you being dumb. wanted a quick fuck, nothing more. you weren’t actually gonna fall for him.
after the first time you met him, it started slow. drinks, texts, late nights that blurred into mornings. you never asked what he did—not really. it didn't matter much to you for some odd reason. he never volunteered it either. but the cash came easy. so what the hell right?
“you scared of me yet?” he asked you one night, voice low, fingers brushing your thigh while you sat in his lap, his gun cold against your lower back while it was tucked in his waist band.
you shake your head. “mm, i dunno, should i be?”
he grins, all teeth. “nah. i’d never hurt you.” and he meant it.
you always looked the other way when he left in the middle of the night. you didn’t feel the need ask why he always checked the blinds twice. why he had two phones. why he flinched when a black SUV passed too slow.
because sukuna…he was surprisingly gentle. always held the door for you. always touched you like he meant it. he made you laugh when you didn’t want to, made you feel like the only girl in the world, took you out and never let you pay, took you home and made you feel safe, somehow, even with a gun or two on the nightstand.
you know he’s not a good man. you’re not stupid.
but he just looks so goddamn fine when he leans against the hood of his car, blunt between his lips, black hoodie clinging to his frame. the kind of man people cross the street to avoid.
i mean come on, he’s a criminal. a real one. not some fake ass who shoplifts and smokes mids. sukuna moves product, handles money, kills when he has to—cold, smart, ruthless.
but with you? he’s just so soft. always puts his gun on the counter before dinner, keeps his voice low when you’re tired, kisses the inside of your wrist and tugs you into his lap when you’re mad at him, carries you to bed when you fall asleep on the couch, rubs your feet without asking.
he kisses you so sweetly, calls you baby in that low voice like it’s a threat, you argue like you want to kill each other and fuck like you’re trying to bring each other back to life.
so when he comes home at night, blood on his clothes and that dead-calm look in his eye, and mutters, “need you to say i was with you tonight,”
you don’t ask. you just simply say, “yeah. course you were.” without another thought.
and some months later, he’s still in your bed. still eating all of your snacks, washing your dishes sometimes, kissing your neck with a kind of possessiveness that should be a red flag—but feels so green. and some might ask, why? or say, are your stupid?
but the thing is? he never lies to you. doesn’t even try to.
“i’m not clean,” he said one night, tracing imaginary lines along your thigh while the tv plays something neither of you are watching. “i do bad shit y/n. and i’m not gonna stop.”
you probably should’ve left then. but instead, you kissed him.
and by the end of year one, you’re living in his apartment—scratch that, your apartment, because his name’s not on the lease. “can’t leave a paper trail, princess.” the place is cozy and yours. you got loud neighbors and a pitbull named akuma—big, gray, dumb as hell, and completely obsessed with sukuna.
“he’s gonna be a little menace to society,” you said when he brought the puppy home.
sukuna just smirked, kneeling down, scratching behind the dog’s ears. “takes after his dad.”
the three of you are like some fucked-up little family. your neighbors always side-eye you. your mom knows but chooses not to say anything anymore. and now your friends have stopped trying to talk you out of it.
and you stopped pretending you wanted out a loooong ass time ago.
fast forward to two years in, the fridge is covered in dumb polaroids. you brushing your teeth. him flipping off the camera. akuma in the middle, tongue out, wearing the stupid, gucci harness you swore was too expensive until sukuna said, “yeah, and?” and bought it anyway.
and now sukuna’s even got your name inked into the thick muscle of his forearm. right above those bold lines on his wrist.
“seriously? this isn’t like sharpie or something?” you’d asked when he came home from the tattoo shop that day.
he just smirked. “dead serious.”
that night when the cities quiet except for the soft hum of cars passing by and helicopters in the air, when akuma jumps into bed and crushes your legs and sukuna tells him to get off but doesn’t mean it, when he presses his inked hand to your thigh while you’re watching a movie and says
“gonna put a ring on it, baby. you know that?”
you believe every word.
then one day, you see the red and blue lights flash by in a blur out the window when he comes running inside the apartment—breathless—you don’t question him. idiot move, yes but it’s because he always comes home. always throws his wallet and his keys on the counter and kisses your cheek like nothing happened. cooks dinner shirtless, muscles flexing while he flips the steak and washes his hands off in the sink.
you clean his knuckles. you patch his ribs. you kiss the crown of his head while he falls asleep on the couch with his arms around you and that’s all that matters.
but you notice how he’s been on edge. more late nights. tighter grip on your waist when you’re out. more checking the windows. more guns on the table.
“you trust me?” he asks later that night, voice low in the dark.
you’re in bed, curled against his side, tracing the black ink on his chest. akuma at your feet. his heart’s beating too fast.
you nod. “always, kuna.”
he exhales, fingers brushing over your spine.
“then no matter what happens—no matter who says what, or what you hear—you remember that. alright?”
you look up at him. search his face. “baby, what’s going on?”
he doesn’t answer. just kisses your forehead, holds you tighter.
a week goes by after that conversation. everything is almost perfect and then it’s not. it all happens so fast. it’s 2:26 a.m. quiet, maybe a little too quiet. then it’s not.
one minute you’re on the couch, hoodie on, legs tucked under you, sukuna’s head in your lap while a movie plays low in the background. he’s half-asleep, arm curled around your thigh, breathing slow like—for once—he’s letting himself rest.
then a crash. your front door kicked in. boots pounding down the hall. shouting—sharp, cold, barked like war commands.
“CLEAR.”
“LEFT SIDE.”
“MOVE MOVE MOVE—”
“HANDS WHERE WE CAN SEE THEM!”
akuma is the first to react—your gray pittie, big and gentle and stupidly loyal—howling, barking like he’s ready to kill. but there are too many of them. someone yells to grab the dog. you scream his name, but they’ve already got him by the collar, dragging him back while he thrashes and whines. red and blue lights flash across the walls. guns drawn.
you’re frozen, shaking, the room is spinning.
you’re still processing—still trying to understand why there are rifles in your face. why they’re screaming your name. why they’re tearing through your drawers, your closet. why they’re grabbing sukuna’s burner phone, the rolled cash, the duffel bags, the box under the bed he told you never to touch.
sukuna’s already standing—calm. far too calm. hands raised, jaw tight. his gun’s on the coffee table. he doesn’t move. he just looks at you.
“listen to me. breathe. look at me. i told you—don’t forget, alright?”
you’re crying now, shaking, choking on air.
his eyes—sharp, red, unreadable—but screaming at you—'don’t move'. you stupidly lunge for him, but two officers grab you first and shove you against the wall. you’re screaming just trying to see him, but they’re in the way, shouting over you.
“wait—please, don’t hurt him!” you shake your head, blinking through tears, “he didn’t—he—what the fuck is going on?!”
“ryomen sukuna, you’re under arrest for organized crime, weapons trafficking, drug trafficking, assault with a deadly weapon—”
the words don’t sound real and it’s not like you didn’t know. you weren’t stupid. you just loved him too much to say it out loud.
as they read him his rights. he doesn’t flinch, doesn’t blink. he lets them cuff him—wrists behind his back, shoulders loose. they slam him into the wall and he still turns to find you.
and he’s smiling.
the cuffs are tight. your apartment’s destroyed. your dog is howling like he’s mourning a death. but sukuna just smiles like this is nothing. like he knew it was coming, which in hindsight, he tried to warn you something was coming.
his eyes stay on you, even through the flashlight beams, the chaos.
“it’s okay, baby,” he says, soft, just for you. “don’t cry.”
“sukuna—please, no—”
he keeps smiling even as they start pulling him toward the door.
“i’ll be alright. i promise.”
and just before the hallway swallows him, just before the sirens drown it all out.
“baby,” he calls out again, louder this time. “look at me.”
you do, through the blur of tears, you do. he’s got a split lip from how they man handled him, bleeding. his arms tensed behind his back, his face still calm.
“don’t worry, yeah?” voice steady. “they’re just doing their job. i’ll be fine.”
“b-but you promised—” your voice breaks. “you promised me—”
“i know.” he nods. and for the first time, the smile slips. just for a second. “i know, baby. i’m sorry.”
they drag him out towards the squad car. akuma’s losing it—thrashing against the grip on his collar, trying to follow him. you collapse to the floor, sobbing. akuma finally escapes from one of the officers and pushes his head into your side, whining like his heart’s breaking too.
as you look around, they’re bagging everything. phones, files, guns, bricks. a woman in a black blazer reads off inventory like she’s listing groceries. her voice is calm and efficient. it makes you want to scream.
while you’re left on the floor—sobbing, shaking, clutching your dog while your whole life gets zipped into evidence bags and all you can hear is his voice, still yelling from outside:
“don’t fuckin’ touch my girl or my dog—you hear me?!”
you stare past the officer crouched in front of you, not even hearing him anymore—just watching sukuna get shoved into the back of a squad car.
and just before the door slams, he shouts, “i love you, you know that? i’ll come back.”
the door closes.
all that was left was the mumbling of officers as they raid your apartment. after that, they take you down to the station. they question you for hours but they don’t have anything on you nor do they any info from you.
you were smart. loyal, quiet. just his girlfriend, just the love of his life. you didn’t know a damn thing. you were with him on this day and that day. you gave them alibis for everything they tried to pin on him.
never flinched. never snitched. you held the line.
and when they finally let you go, hours later—bleary-eyed, fingers trembling, walking back into the wreckage of what used to be home—akuma’s waiting by the door. his tail thumping, eyes wide, like he doesn’t know how to stop looking for him.
and neither do you.
couple months down the line, it’s his court date. it’d been painfully long. phone calls, visits here and there but it was finally time for his sentencing.
you had gotten there early. standing in a corner, speaking with his defense attorney but as the time passed, the courtroom felt cold and quiet in that fake, choking kind of way.
you’re sitting stiff in the second row, all black—tight dress, heavy coat, heels loud on the tile when you walked in. hands gripping the edge of the bench, white-knuckled as you waited.
your eyes lock on him the second he steps into the room.
sukuna walks in wearing shackles like they’re fucking jewelry. orange jumpsuit unzipped just enough to show the ink crawling up his chest. wrists cuffed, ankles too, chain connecting them down the middle.
he’s smirking like this is a joke. like he already knows how it ends. then his eyes land on you. his girl.
“hey, baby. you look good.”
“shut the fuck up,” one of the guards snaps, yanking the chain forward.
you don’t flinch, you don’t even speak. you just watch him walk to his seat like he owns the place.
he sits back like it’s a poker game. his leg bouncing, smiling. those red eyes scan the room once, like he’s bored.
then it begins. and soon enough, the judge starts reading the charges.
once again, the list of violent, serious shit goes in one of your ears and out the either. none of it exaggerated even a little bit. organized crime. drug trafficking, assault, illegal weapons.
which again, you know what he did. you knew before the cops ever did. meanwhile everyone in the room looks at him like a monster but not you.
you don’t even blink when the jury says “guilty” after every charge and neither does he.
the judge ends the trial with his sentence, “twenty-five years. eligible for parole in seven.”
the courtroom breathes in like it just took a punch. and sukuna? sukuna just laughs. real fucking loud, ugly and real. he throws his head back like he’s in on some joke no one else gets.
the judge bangs the gavel. some man yells at him to shut up and stop laughing, the guards move fast.
he just grins through all of it then turns his head toward you, mouth split in that same damn smirk.
“still gonna write me, baby?” he calls, smug, voice booming off the walls.
you nod once—sharp. you could care less who sees.
the guards haul him up, start dragging him toward the side door. he doesn’t resist. just keeps smiling at you like he already knows you’ll be there tomorrow, and the next day, and the next. and he’s right.
the truth is, the charges could’ve been a hell of a lot worse. they had enough to bury him alive but you? you were a fucking godsend. even when you got up on the podium. every little lie was perfect. you lied through your goddamn teeth. all the fake alibis, timelines, pretending not to know what half the shit in your apartment was—had somehow worked. even after they grilled you for hours. days. tried to shake you, to get you to break.
but you never gave them shit. you kept your voice steady, your story straight and your love for him ironclad.
and it worked. it could’ve been 40 years to life. it could’ve been no parole. it could’ve even been you, too. but here you are—still free. he’s not. but he’s still yours.
and seven years later? he’s still yours.
sure, he’s missed holidays. birthdays. every new year’s kiss. but every thursday at 3:00pm? you’re there. you’re used to the routine by now. first your ID, pat down, metal detector. pretty boring stuff.
at that point, you knew every guard by name. you’ve done this a hundred times—plastic chairs, shitty vending machine coffee, body searches.
you don’t care because the second he walks into the visitation room everything else fades out.
he’s bigger now. broader. face leaner, eyes sharper—darker in a way that says time has passed, and prison doesn’t change people so much as refine them. orange jumpsuit rolled to the waist, white tank clinging to his chest, black ink crawling up the back of his neck like smoke.
and that grin—dangerous and crooked. just for you.
“fuck, baby,” he drawls, sliding into the seat across from you. “you get hotter every time i see you. is that a new lip gloss?”
you roll your eyes. “you just gonna flirt or ask how i’ve been?”
he shrugs, smirking. “same thing.”
still cocky. still loud. still him but the edges are tighter now. more controlled like every second without you has been simmering under his skin.
there were times you’d talk. about nothing. about everything. he tells you about prison like it’s high school drama. you tell him about bills, work, new tv shows, keeping the bed warm for him. he listens like every word matters. like you’re the only real thing in his world.
“are you wearing that chain i sent you?” he asks.
you tug it out from under your hoodie—a little silver bar with his name engraved.
his grin widens. “of course you are, don’t know why i even asked.”
and sometimes, when the guards aren’t looking, he leans in close. voice low, filthy, just for you.
“you gonna let me fuck you in the conjugal trailer next month?”
“still think about that pretty little body when i fall asleep.”
“i’m gonna come home and ruin you. you know that, right?”
you squeeze your thighs together. he sees it every time and smirks. of course the smug bastard is proud of himself.
and sometimes it’s quiet. just the sound of your fingers tapping on the metal table. he stares at your hands like they mean something.
“seven years,” he mutters. “and you’re still here.”
you shrug. “you’d do it for me.”
he lifts a brow. “would i?”
you give him a look.
he laughs—low, warm and real. “yeah,” he says. “yeah, i fuckin’ would.”
there’s no kissing here. no touching past a handshake, a goodbye but the way he looks at you?
you feel it everywhere.
and one day, just as the guard calls time, just as he stands and stretches and leans in a little closer than he’s supposed to—
he murmurs, voice quiet, steady. “marry me when i get out.”
you blink. “what?”
but he’s already turning away, that same old grin tugging at his mouth, shouting something crass to another inmate, hands cuffed behind his back.
the door slams shut behind him.
and you’re left sitting there, heart pounding, chain warm between your fingers, replaying those words in your head.
the next time you see him, he walks in wearing that ugly-ass orange jumpsuit as usual, smile already stretching across his face the second he sees you.
“look at you,” he says, voice low and filthy despite the guards. “dressed all nice for your criminal boyfriend.”
you roll your eyes. “you asked me to.”
“yeah. and you listened. you always do” he leans in. “always such a good girl for me.”
the tension’s thick. his wrists are cuffed but his eyes are on you like he’s already got his hands around your throat.
“heard the news?” he asks casually, voice like honey dipped in gasoline. “early release. next month.”
your breath catches. “wait, are you serious?”
“mmhm.” he leans back, tongue flicking over his teeth. “good behavior.” he grins. “just for you, mama.”
he’s been cleaning up—no fights, no smuggling, no stabbings in the yard, even though he wants to. because he wants to see you again. wants his hands on you. his mouth. wants you under him, not across the table.
“been thinking’ about what I’m gonna do to you first,” he says, voice lower now, eyes burning. “once i get out.”
you swallow and shift in your seat. “are you gonna behave?”
he laughs. full-bodied, dark. “fuck no. i’m gonna ruin you.”
he leans forward, chained wrists clinking on the table, eyes locked on yours.
“i’ve been locked up seven years, princess. do you know how much time i’ve spent thinking about that sweet little body under mine?”
you feel your cheeks heat, but you don’t look away.
“you better be ready,” he says, voice rough now. “’cause i’m gonna spend the first night out fucking you like i’m tryna get sent right back.”
so thankfully, he’s the kind of inmate that runs the damn yard but keeps his nose clean just enough to qualify for early release. he did beat someone’s ass in the showers last month for talking sideways about you—but still managed to earn “good behavior” by bribing the guards and running literacy programs like a deranged philanthropist.
next time you hear from him he calls you from the jail phone with that lazy, smug tone.
“two more weeks. then i’m home. you ready for that, princess?”
“depends. are you gonna kill anyone again?”
“no, baby. i’m a changed man, pinky promise.”
a pause. “unless they touch you.”
but life as a prisoner’s girlfriend had been interesting to say the least. some your favorite memories though?
the video call visits. the video calls hit different.
you answer from the bed, in his hoodie that thankfully still smelled like him, all soft lighting and skin and love in your eyes.
the screen flickers—and there he is.
inmate #966666. your man. arms crossed, face lit by the shitty fluorescent light in the visiting block. buzzed short on the sides, salmon pink thick on top. face tattoos sharp even in pixelation. smirking. cocky. starved.
“there’s my girl,” he rumbles, leaning in like he’s trying to reach through the screen. “looking’ all cozy in our bed.”
you smile, soft. “missed you today.”
he leans back, legs spread, grinning. “yeah? say it again.”
you roll your eyes, giggling. “missed you.”
“mm,” he hums. “missed you more, baby. how’s our place looking’? bought anything new for me to come home to?”
and you have—so you flip the camera around, showing off the new record shelf, the little framed photo of you two from before, and the rug you’ve been saving for.
“can’t wait for you to see it for real,” you say quietly. “can’t wait till you come home.”
his face softens—just barely. eyes half-lidded.
“me neither, princess. every night i picture it. you. the apartment. our bed. my hands all over you again.”
you bring the camera back to yourself, and akuma sits up on the floor beside your bed, tail thumping.
sukuna lights up like a kid on christmas.
the dog perks up at his voice, sniffs the screen, tail going harder.
“yo, come here, big man,” he coos. “you takin’ care of my girl, huh? keeping’ her warm at night? …better not be sleeping’ on my fuckin’ pillow.”
you both laugh. but you already know when sukuna gets out, he’s picking that big soft baby up in his arms like it’s nothing, and probably crying into his fur when no one’s looking.
and the letters? worth framing.
he sends them folded perfectly, sprayed with just a hint of your favorite cologne. immaculate. front-and-back, always. tight, clean handwriting. detailed as hell—how he’s doing, what he’s thinking about. sweet shit like “wish i could hold you right now. need it bad.” and spicy shit like: “wanna fuck you face-down ass-up the minute I’m out.” “was dreaming’ about you last night. woke up hard. you owe me.”
one of his first letters had said:
hey baby, how are you? miss you real bad. i woke up thinking’ about your laugh. that one that comes out when you’re trying’ not to snort. i miss it. miss you. drawn your face from memory like four times now. don’t tell nobody, they’ll say i’m getting’ soft. been missing your smell. you smell like home. that sweet vanilla shit you always put on. i look at your pictures every night. even got one under my pillow. even when they toss my cell, i hide it like it’s fuckin’ contraband. you’re my peace. can’t lose you princess.
then they’d switch, just like that.
you know, i thought about that one night. you dancing in the kitchen, making soup, wearing those little shorts. you remember the ones? yeah. me too. that’s why i wrote this with one hand. also last night i laid in this goddamn bunk and imagined the sound you make when you take your bra off after a long day. hard as a rock. you’re such a fuckin’ problem. do you still wear that lacey one i like? the one that barely holds anything? bet your titties are sitting’ real pretty in it right now. fuck me.
i miss how you say my name when you’re tired. i miss how you say it when you’re on top. i miss your thighs around my neck. i miss your mouth. i miss being inside you so deep you forget your own fuckin’ name.
but more than that? i miss watching you eat dinner across from me. i miss you bitching’ about your coworkers. i miss your fingers in my hair when i can’t sleep. i don’t give a fuck how long it takes, you’re it for me.
and he always had a sketch tucked inside. sometimes it’s little things—your side profile, your body. or sharp, shaded tattoos—ones he designed for you. just something he did on the side back when he was still a law abiding citizen. his name in kanji. a snake coiled around a katana surrounded by lilies.
this one’s for your spine. wanna see it when i fuck you from behind.
then, right under that like he didn’t just make you cry and wet at the same time.
…also. take it easy at work. remember to eat. and kiss akuma for me. shit, also, can you put some extra on my books? tryna get you something for your birthday. don’t ask what. it’s not a weapon, swear.
and you do—put money on his books, no hesitation. commissary’s got nothing on you. he’s got honey buns, decent ramen, and the best soap on his block. your man is moisturized and fed. period.
and at the end of a long, loving, slightly filthy letter, he always signed in that perfect script: “kuna. always yours.”
you kept every letter in a shoebox under your bed, every sketch on your corkboard. you read them on bad days. and good ones.
you always wrote back, too— keeping him updated with everything. little doodles, lipstick kisses on the envelope, spritz of perfume here and here. snuck in polaroids of you and akuma. even some spicy ones for his eyes only. always signed with “your/name, always & forever <3.”
oh and those conjugal visits? they most definitely take the cake.
you had waited weeks for them, marked off in red hearts on the calendar.
one of the first visits:
you walk into that little cold-ass private trailer with a bag packed—cute pajamas, your favorite lotion, that perfume he likes. he’s already there when you arrive, looking like sin in his real clothes. not that orange jumpsuit he’s usually in. eyes glued to you the second you step in.
then he softens, just a little.
you stand. don’t even say anything. just walk straight into his arms. he buries his face in your neck, breath catching like it’s the first inhale he’s had since they locked the door behind him.
“fuck,” he mutters. “you smell good. gonna feel even better.”
his hands are everywhere. rough palms on your waist, your thighs, your ass. lips dragging over your skin like he’s starved—and he is.
he grabs your waist fast, pulls you in for a kiss that’s all tongue and teeth, rough like he’s been starving for you.
“got something to show you,” you whisper, breathless already.
you turn around, pull your dress up, and tug the side of your thong down just enough to show him—
small script. his name. right cheek. close to the curve of your hip.
he goes still. his hand on your ass, thumb dragging right over it. then he finally speaks.
“nah, what the fuck,” he laughs, eyes wide, voice shaking. “you got my name tatted on you?”
you look back over your shoulder, smiling.
“been had it. waited to show you in person.”
his hands are now rubbing all over you, gripping that ass with both hands like it’s his last meal. but then, he’s got you onto the bed so fast the mattress groans. pulls your dress over your head and yanks your panties down. he stares like he’s looking at something holy.
“missed this mouth,” he groans, spreading your legs, licking up your slick with a filthy moan. “missed how fuckin’ sweet you are when you’re begin’.”
you gasp, already squirming.
he fully buries face between your thighs, hands gripping your waist like he’s starving and hasn’t had a real meal since he got locked up. moaning into your cunt, licking like it’s his last day alive.
“taste like fuckin’ heaven,” he groans. “missed this fuckin’ pussy so bad. missed how you sound when i’m inside you.”
after two or three orgasms from his tongue and fingers, he finally fucks you. and it’s deep, rough, desperate. your legs around his waist, your back arching off the mattress while he pounds into you like he’s making up for lost time. his tip hitting that sweet spot repeatedly in your pussy that makes your body take a fucking screenshot. teeth on your neck, fingers digging into your hips right below where his name is inked into your skin.
he just mutters filthy shit in your ear the entire time.
“you got my name on you, and now you’re gonna take all of me.”
“this ass? mine.”
“gonna fuck you so good you dream about it ‘til the next visit.”
then he flips you both, makes you ride him, sucking your tits while they bounce, eyes half-lidded.
“shiiiit, sweetheart—gonna fuck a baby into you in this nasty little room if you’re not careful,” he grits.
and you just moan louder, hands in his hair, riding the edge of pure bliss.
“missed you,” you whisper, staring up at him, cradling his face.
he kisses you, hard and filthy at first, then soft.
he pulls away breathless, jaw slack, panting like a dog in heat.
“fuck, baby—come on, gimme that shit. cum all over my dick. show me how much you missed it.”
you fall over the edge, messy and loud. milking him for all he’s got. and he follows right after, hands gripping your ass so hard they’re sure to leave bruises as he cums deep and desperate. and when he’s done, he kisses your neck, arms wrapped around you.
“gonna marry you when i get out,” he whispers. “i swear.”
you both lie on the tiny mattress after some much needed tlc. tangled up, his head between your tits, your fingers in his hair. he traces your tattoo with his fingers.
“gonna take care of you right, when i get out,” he murmurs, voice rough. “no more bullshit.”
you kiss his jaw and whisper back. “i know.”
and when you left that day, sore and glowing, your man watched you walk away as the guards put the cuffs back on him, mouth curled into a grin, voice low like a promise:
“keep my side of the bed warm, baby. i’m coming home. promise.”
and the day he gets out, you’re already there.
you’re standing by the gate before the sun’s even up. his hoodie on, necklace with his name around your neck. you’re trying to play it cool, but your hands won’t stop shaking.
and when that gate finally opened, when ryomen sukuna steps out, a free man, tattoos gleaming in the morning light, black tee hugging his chest, hair grown out just a little, grin already forming.
you don’t even get a word out before he grabs you, spins you around like a goddamn princess. his hands firm on your waist, lifting you like you weigh nothing, face buried in your neck.
“fuck, baby,” he breathes. “missed you so fuckin’ bad.”
you’re laughing, crying a little. arms wrapped around his shoulders so tight it hurts.
he sets you down, but barely. just enough to kiss your cheeks, your jaw, your nose, and then he pulls back, still holding your face like it’s precious.
“you ready?”
you blink. “for what?”
he grins. a big grin at that. so sure.
“courthouse. thirty minutes away. judge’s on lunch break. said he’ll squeeze us in.”
you blink again. “wait, the fuck? are you—you’re serious?”
“sweetheart,” he says, already dragging you toward the car, “i’ve been locked up seven fuckin’ years. i’m so fucking serious.”
cut to an hour later: courthouse.
fluorescent lights. ugly tile. fake bouquet from the clerk’s desk in your hand. cheap rings in a little box you picked up from the nearest pawn shop on the way there. you didn’t even have time to change. but he didn’t care, not even a little.
“you look perfect,” he mutters, adjusting your hoodie like it’s designer couture. “i’m gonna wife you up in my hoodie. that’s so hard.”
you roll your eyes. “you’re such a dumbass.”
“your dumbass now,” he grins emphasizing the your. “permanently.”
you say your vows that came straight from the heart in a cheap government office, between a sleepy officiant and a laminated “no food or drink” sign, but he looks at you like you’re in a white dress on a mountaintop.
he kisses your hand when he slides the ring on. says “’bout fuckin’ time,” loud enough that the clerk snorts.
and when they say “you may now kiss—”
he doesn’t wait. he pulls you in, kisses you like he’s trying to breathe through you. it’s deep and messy and a little bit desperate.
you giggle against his mouth. he presses his forehead to yours, still grinning.
“mrs. ryomen fuckin’ sukuna,” he says proudly. “finally.”
you walk out as husband and wife.
he pulls you in by the hips and kisses you again in the parking lot, hands low, grin wide.
“made good on that promise, yeah?”
you decide not to do anything fancy. no champagne. no five-star dinner. you celebrate the only way you know how—greasy as hell.
just burgers and fries at that little place you used to talk about in letters and phone calls—the one with the neon sign and checkered floors. sukuna orders double everything, and he’s across from you in sweats and an ankle monitor, eating like a man who forgot what real food tastes like.
he steals your fries when you’re not looking. you slap his hand.
he smirks. “married now, baby. my fries too.”
you share a milkshake. vanilla. extra whipped cream. two straws.
he stares at you across the table like he still doesn’t believe you’re real.
“you know i dreamed about this?” he says, voice rough from grease and emotion. “used to lay there and think about you, right across from me, doing this exact same shit.”
you smile. press your foot against his under the table.
“dream about the milkshake or me?”
he snorts. “both. obviously.”
he takes your hand and kisses your ring finger, red eyes locked on yours and filled with so much love.
and when you finally drive home—real home—his leg’s bouncing the whole way. you both get off the car and head up the steps and you unlock the front door.
“you sure he’s not gonna bite me?”
you snort. “you’re the one who taught him to go for the ankles.”
the apartment is quiet when you pull up. it’s familiar to him, but different. newer furniture. he’s seen it all in video calls but it’s different in person now. his shoes aren’t by the door anymore, but everything else—everything you—is still here. still home.
he hesitates at the threshold. just for a second. like he’s afraid it’ll vanish if he walks in. but then—
“AKUMA!” you call out, voice soft but firm.
and there’s the sound of scrambling paws, claws on the hardwood, and then akuma’s there—gray, stocky, a little older, but still full of love and joy.
the pitbull barrels into the room like he’s about to tear through the walls, skids to a stop, and freezes when he sees him.
sukuna kneels down, slow, whispering. “…yo.”
akuma just stares at first—like he’s short-circuiting. akuma sniffs the air. tail wags once. then again. and then he launches.
sukuna catches all 70 pounds of him like it’s nothing, falling back onto his ass with a grunt as akuma licks at his face like he’s trying to put seven years of love into one minute.
“fuck—okay, okay—goddamn—” sukuna’s laughing, arms tight around the dog’s back, fingers gripping his fur like he’s afraid he’ll disappear again.
akuma’s whining, tail a blur of chaos, body wriggling like he can’t get close enough.
and sukuna—your big, bad, tatted-up, ex-convict husband?
he fucking cries. silent at first. then not so silent, at all whatsoever. his shoulders were shaking, arms wrapped tight around the dog, forehead pressed to his fur.
you just watch from the doorway. hands over your mouth. heart splitting. he looks up at you, eyes wet.
you kneel beside him. touch his back. “he never stopped waiting,” you whisper. “neither did i.”
he pulls you both in—you and akuma—his whole world in his arms now. big, calloused hands around your waist. akuma draped across your laps like a living blanket.
you sit beside him. curl against his side.
“god, y/n, you—fuck—i…,” he whispers into akuma’s fur. “didn’t think i’d get to see you again.”
and for the first time in seven years, sukuna lets himself feel safe.
after you both settle in, it’s quiet now. real quiet. not prison quiet. no locks clanking. no cell doors slamming. no count. no cold tile or shitty mattress. home quiet.
you’re both clean—fresh from a hot shower, towel-dried hair, his hands all over you the entire time like he couldn’t believe you were real. when he brushed his teeth, he kept making jokes about his “first night as a free man, i’m getting minty for my wife.”
his wife.
he’s got everything he dreamed about for the last seven years. sheets that smell like you. a real bed. a dim lamp in the corner next to a photo of you, him & akuma.
and you—standing in the doorway, wearing nothing but one of his old shirts and a look that says finally.
the ring glints on your finger in the dark. he exhales like he’s never really breathed before. he sits on the edge of the bed for a while. just stares at the wall.
you don’t rush him. you know what’s going on in that handsome head of his. this is the place he got arrested in. the same room they tore apart. same windows, same shadows.
“seven years,” he murmurs. “first night back in my bed.”
you walk over. slow. crawl into his lap and wrap your arms around his neck.
“our bed,” you whisper.
he swallows. hard. hands settling on your hips.
eyes drinking you in like he can’t believe you’re real. like maybe he’s still dreaming in some concrete box.
“you’re my wife,” he says, voice thick. “fuckin’ wife.”
you smile against his lips. “so make me feel like it.”and that’s all it takes.
he kisses you hard—mouth desperate, like he’s catching up for all the years he couldn’t. he pulls your shirt over your head, kisses the top of your chest first, then lower. his hands are everywhere. reverent. hungry. he grabs your thighs, flips you onto your back, crawls down between your legs like he’s starving.
and he is.
he pulls your panties off with his teeth. kisses your inner thighs like he’s praying. then licks into you, slow and deep, groaning when your fingers tangle in his hair.
“sweetest fuckin’ thing,” he murmurs against your pussy. “missed this taste every night. used to jerk off thinking’ about this right here.”
he eats like he’s got time to worship. not rough. not rushed. just…grateful. long licks, fingers curling inside, nose pressed to your clit until your thighs are shaking and your hips are grinding into his face.
“go ahead, baby. be a good girl and cum on my face. it’s your first night as my wife. i got shit to prove.”
you cum hard, breathless, crying out his name. and he doesn’t stop, not until your thighs are twitching, not until he’s satisfied.
then he crawls back up, drags your mouth to his, lets you taste yourself on his lips.
“sit on it,” he rasps, voice wrecked. “wanna watch you ride me. wanna feel all of it.”
you straddle him, slow, sinking down onto his cock until you’re full—so fucking full it steals your breath.
he moans, head tipping back, gripping your hips, watching every inch disappear.
“my fuckin’ wife,” he breathes. “look at you.” you move slow at first, hands on his chest, grinding your hips like you’ve got nowhere else to be for the rest of your life.
and he loves it.
he’s got his hands all over you. one on your waist, the other cupping your breast, thumb brushing your nipple.
he fucks up into you, matching your pace, mouth dragging across your throat.
“seven fuckin’ years,” he pants. “you know how many times i dreamed of this?”
you’re shaking now. gasping.
“show me,” you whisper. “show me how bad you wanted it.”
he flips you fast—so fast—lays you down on his bed for the first time in seven years, and fucks you deep, slow, deliberate. his cock hitting deep making your eyes roll to the back of your head. the room filled with the most obscene sounds. bed creaking, the sweet, wet squelch of your pussy and his balls slapping against your ass.
he kisses your fingers. your mouth. your ring.
“mine,” he whispers into your neck. “forever. mine.”
you cum again. this time with his name in your mouth and his hand locked with yours.
he follows right after—groaning low, buried deep inside you, cum spilling out around his shaft, his face pressed to your chest.
you collapse on top of him. he wraps you up. presses kisses to your hair. just lays there, breathing with you, forehead to yours, thumb brushing your cheek.
“thank you,” he whispers. “for waiting. for staying. for not giving up on me.”
no more grainy phone calls. no more visits. no more letters. just the two of you home with nothing between you but peace.
he rubs his hand over your back, voice soft.
“we’re good now, yeah?”
you nod, half-asleep. “mhm.”
“told you i’d come back.” he whispers.
after that, it gets quiet again. except akuma’s snoring in the corner like a damn freight train. the door’s locked. the city’s asleep.
and you’re in bed, legs tangled with your husband’s, skin warm from hours of sex and laughter and most of all—relief.
sukuna’s on his back, one arm around your waist, the other tucked behind his head.
he’s watching the ceiling like it owes him something, blinking slow, chest still rising a little too fast. like he can’t quite believe any of this is real.
you lean over him, kiss the ink on his collarbone.
he smiles, lazy and smug, as usual.
“what?” you murmur, tracing a line down his stomach.
he glances at you, eyes half-lidded. “just thinking.”
“oof, that’s dangerous.” you tease.
he huffs a laugh. “yeah.”
you wait and then he says it—quiet, almost like a joke.
“remember the party?”
you blink. “the one where we met. over some shitty, warm beer that toji picked up at the corner store?”
“mmhm.” he smirks, but softer now. “the one where yuki told you not to talk to me.”
you laugh, full and real. “‘don’t. he’s crazy, jail-time type shit.’”
“and you came and sat on my lap anyway.”
“i mean, you were hot.” you shrug.
“and you’re an idiot.”
you smile, curl into his side, cheek resting on his shoulder.
he presses a kiss to your forehead, knuckles brushing your bare spine.
“guess i should thank your dumbass friend,” he mutters, voice low, already fading into sleep. “she’s the reason i met my wife. my ride or die.”
you smile and don’t say anything. you just hold him tighter, like you’re afraid he’ll disappear all over again.
two years in, then seven apart.
crime. then courtrooms. then shitty vending machine coffee. hundreds of letters and visits.
and now he’s here, tucked against your side, finally. fully.
yours in a way no one ever thought he should be.
you whisper, barely a breath. “guess you’re not so crazy after all, huh?”
he stirs—doesn’t open his eyes—but he hears you and with a rough, half-asleep laugh, he mutters.
“still fuckin’ crazy.”
then he kisses your shoulder, presses closer, and falls back asleep with his hand curled around your wedding ring.
you’re just starting to drift off—his breathing slow against your skin, your fingers still tangled in his hair—when the mattress shifts with a heavy thud.
then a groan.
“no. absolutely the fuck not—” sukuna mumbles, voice hoarse.
akuma, in all his 70-pound glory, launched himself onto the bed. sprawling across both of you like he’s claiming his spot. head wedged on your stomach, paws kicking into sukuna’s ribs.
you laugh, half-asleep. “aw, kuuuna. baby, he missed you.”
sukuna sighs, glaring at the ceiling. “seven years in prison and i come home to my traitorous cockblocking dog.”
akuma lets out a loud sigh and promptly starts snoring, loud and obnoxious as pitbulls do. you kiss his little boxy head and then sukuna’s temple, still grinning.
and sukuna grumbles something under his breath—but his arm curls tighter around both of you mumbling an 'i love you'. before snoring in sync with said 'traitorous cockblocking dog'.
fratkuna! makes you tutor him while you ride him 𖥨᩠ׄ݁
18+
“I-it’s called calculus—ngh—early transcendentals” you sob. shakey hands gripping the book that laid flat against sukuna’s chest, you squeeze your eyes shut, thighs aching before a hand reaches out to tap against your cheek.
“cmon—supposed to be tutoring me” his face stretched into a toothy grin. lidded eyes gazing at you.
“s-starts—ah” you mewl. the broken sound cutting off your next sentence, head falling flat against his shoulder, rough palms squeezed the two globes that rested against his thighs, lifting them up before slamming them down onto his cock.
“hurry up, don’t got all day”
“starts..with limits—kuna~” your mind can’t seem to focus when the only thing you can really think of is the way he’s stretching you out around his length. cunt squelching around him, lathering his veiny cock in your slick juices.
“you can do it, cmon, don’t get dumb on me” his hips snapped up into you harder. one of his hands coasted up that dip in your spine until he reached the back of your neck, he pulled your head back, and forced you to stare down at the textbook infront of you.
“c-can’t—s’to much~” teary eyes glanced into his, mouth jutted out in a small pouty cry as you kept your fingers tightened around the book, with a scoff, he landed a harsh blow to your ass.
“hurry up or I’ll stop..brat”
“i-it’s about—ah!—change” your own hips start to move—slowly, trying to match his rhythm. “of—motion an’ growth—s-slow” each little sob that fell from your lips only made him want to fuck up into you harder, just to hear them over an’ over.
so that’s what he did, he planted his feet flat on the ground, hips drilling at an angle that allows the curve of his flush tip to rub against that plush little sweet spot inside you.
“shhh..takin’ it s’well—fuck…keep readin’” he rasps out, finger coming up to push your glasses back up your nose.
“o-of—how things shift..p-please” he lets out a rough breath, the sound hitched and shakey as his thick but stiff an’ lengthy cock plunges in an’ out of your sopping hole.
“built on—two main ideas—ngh—the derivative an’—godddd” your head tips back, unable to hold its self up anymore. your brows furrow as you let your body be taken completely by the pleasure of him, you bounce along with his mean ruts, tits slapping back down against your sweaty chest.
“can’t read no more?—mm—sucha’ smart girl yet you’re so out of it right now hmm?” his head tilts as he mocks you, arms tightening around your waist, pulling you flush against him, he lifts you up jus’ a tad bit, his own hips lifting off of the chair to fuck up into you at an animalistic pace.
“yesyesyesyes” you chant, hands dangling around his shoulders, weakly gripping onto the back of the chair, the textbook now leaving dents against your chest, stuck between the two of you.
he buries himself to the hilt with a groan, pressing a sweet honeyed kiss to your cervix.
“can’t—fuck—believe you jus’ stopped like that” he chuckled. lips finding their way toward your neck, brushing against your goosebump riddled skin. “wanted ta’ learn—s’bad” he pouted teasingly. hips moving again.
you keened back, unable to speak anymore, body completely limp against his, the mean slap of his hips left you hazy. your walls clamp around him, sucking him in, clit dusting over that pretty trail of pink hairs that laid just beneath his slick covered base.
he pulls you in for a sloppy kiss, all tongue and spit, he moans into your mouth, tongue gliding against yours, your mouth parts open, panting softly as he sucks on your tongue, taking advantage of your parted mouth. he pulls away, a slick string of spit connecting your lips together.
“s’good—ngh~”
“yeah?…tell me how good”
“s’good..kuna—feels s’deep” Another throaty sob leaves you. ass plopping down onto his lap with every lift of your hips.
“s’deep? Yeah?…poor baby” he frowns mockingly.
your head nods up an’ down, unable to comprehend anything anymore. he lifts your hips alll the way up, dragging his tip against your gummy walls, tip stretching you out. before he slams you back down against, inflicting a loud scream to leave your trembling lips.
“look at us—fuckin’ look at it—shiiittt” he lets out a low groan, hand finding its way toward the back of your neck yet again, shoving your face down until your chin meets your chest, you see it then, the way his cock bullies the inside of your sopping cunt, the slow drag of your walls wrapping around him had you both in a trance.
“kuna—m’scloseeee—nnghh”
“cmon—soak my cock” he grunts harshly, rutting up harder, deft fingers reach down toward your throbbing clit, lazily tracing circles on it, applying a small amount of pressure, just enough to tip you over the edge.
“ohgodohgodohgod—fuck~” you babble, arms tightening around his neck, hips moving on their own accord in sloppy weak little bounces, sukuna lets out a guttural groan, head falling back against the chair, eyes squeezing shut. drool dribbling messily down your chin.
“c-cummmin—kuna—“
with a few final little bounces, your body stills as a harsh wave of pleasure rips through you, you let out a whimper, shoving your face into his neck, hips twitching as he kisses your cervix with mean ruts, chasing his own orgasm whilst riding you through yours.
your thighs tremble as he continues to pummel his cock into you. cunt gushing around him.
“fuuucccckkk—yes—this nerdy—cunt is s’good”
before you know it, he’s right there with you, arms tightening around your waist, teeth sinking into the skin of your shoulder. his legs shake before he pulls out, cock twitching, frotting against his stomach as well as yours as he continues to rut his hips up, thick ropes of white cum land onto your favorite textbook, painting it, the ink mixing in with his cum, ruining it.
oh no:(
@orgasmbunny
a/n: not proofread yall im going to BEDDDDD GN POOKIES, ENJOY<3
Suguru has been holed up for a long time, only going out with his two daughters, and occasionally his best friend - their 'uncle gojo' - and that works for him, he has a happy enough life. Success. Yet... when he meets the pretty new neighbor across the street, everything changes. His lack of inspo turns into a burst of inspiration - and his biggest fan - but he's scared, and so are you, both trying to overcome difficult pasts and move on - can you make beautiful art together?
pairings - famous artist! Suguru x art lover! reader
contents/warnings- Suguru is 32, reader is 28 - fluffy/sweet, emotional, light angst, they're down bad- both have had tragedies in their past, mentions of loss, he's a single dad to the twins. Cozy fall vibes, them finding love again, finding his muse and inspo in you, sexual tension like a mf, 'paint me like one of your french girls' getting painted naked, phone sex, masturbation, panty stealing, Sugu is so tortured artist, fingering, masturbation, talking you through it, oral (f receiving) creampie, p in v sex - oneshot 11.1k wc
this is a commission for my DAY ONE girlie @nanasukii28 ! Ty for always supporting me, even when I had like 10 followers aha, it means sm <3 ILY
The movers are finishing unpacking your things to your new home when you see him for the first time – dark hair slipped half up in a bun, half flowing down his shoulders, two teenagers taking pictures of him on their phone as he tries to shove them off playfully. He looks too young to have them, maybe early thirties at best, but he’s clearly their father.
He smiles curiously at you, waving and walking over, the two of them close by, giggling behind their hands. You smile back curiously, shaking his proffered hand and telling him your name – and that’s when it happens.
You blush from a fucking handshake.
What is it, how big they are, how long his fingers were? Little specks of paint dancing along the back of them, raised veins pressing up from the back of his hand under tanned skin. Your heart races and you just stand there, not even moving your hand up and down like you should, no it just rests as you pause, and the girls next to him giggle.
“Kiss her hand,” Mimiko teases.
“Be a gentleman, dad,” Nanako says. Now it’s Suguru Geto’s turn to blush just a bit, looking down at your hand. “Maybe she’s old school.”
“Or shy.”
“You’re cute,” Nanako says, while you stand there awkwardly, both of you looking at each other. “Isn’t she dad?”
“Girls,” he chides quietly, as the two of you just stare at each other, it’s almost thanksgiving so the leaves are scattered and swirling around both of your feet, while you try to get your hand back. He’s not pulling back though, and neither are you, it’s embarrassing whatever effect this is.
You were ovulating and he is gorgeous, but surely you can fucking get it together!? The man has teenage children, he could be married, he could-
“I’m sorry,” you murmur then, blinking a bit, and Suguru gets a good look at your pretty face from this angle, taking in the shade your cheeks turn, wondering if he could ever capture that with paint. “I’m so…”
“No, no,” the girls are literally talking shit via text about their awkward dad with an even more awkward neighbor, when Suguru pulls your hand up, brushing his lips across your knuckles, smiling just a bit. “Nice to meet you.”
Oh fuck.
He kissed your hand!? Who kisses hands? And he might as well have kissed your throat, your collar bone, your lips, the intimacy of such a little act so foreign to the modern world wrecking you. Your lips are parted, searching for anything to say – you’re not like this, not so shy and awkward and a damn mess.
You take a breath, realizing he’s still holding your hand, and the two of you are in your front yard, movers walking in and out of a big white moving truck, carrying in your things. It just felt like you and him, meeting in some damn movie the way his silken locks fall, how charming he is but at the same time something…
Mysterious. That’s the word.
“Thank you,” you say then, never wanting to wash the damn spot his lips pressed like some lovesick teenager. You clear your throat and smile, tilting your head a bit, pressing a kiss on his, making him chuckle. “I figure this is our greeting.”
“I guess it is,” he murmurs, your lips leave a glossy little mark on his skin, and he can only imagine how it would feel to kiss you as your hands fall. He realizes his daughters are going to embarrass him to hell for acting like this, but he can’t really explain…
Something about you just makes his pulse race, his palms are even sweaty – him, Suguru Geto, an experienced man. He wasn’t Gojo for instance, his best friend who he’d had to coach in the ways of women, he was the one doing the coaching. At this moment though, his damn friend even would laugh at him, if the girls weren’t already texting ‘uncle gojo’ over his folly.
“Do you need help?” He asks then, rolling up the sleeves of his sweater, and fuck him for those forearms, your weakness, you can’t speak again.
“This is hilarious,” Mimiko whispers, and Suguru glares back at her, only to be met with her snapping another pic and grinning.
“Girls, introduce yourselves properly.”
“Yes dad,” they say that at the same time, you smile at the two pretty young ladies, who are just adorable.
“It’s so good to meet all of you, I don’t know anyone here really, I moved to do a new position out of state,” you murmur softly, while Suguru studies the way the sun peeking from the cloudy sky illuminates your pretty face, stunned again at the lights and shadows.
Suguru Geto is an artist, and he loves beauty, never more so than what’s right in front of him. Your sweater falls off a shoulder, revealing the smooth skin and gentle curve of your neck, he could almost feel his brush stroking against the canvas, imagining just how beautiful an art piece you would be, while you’re talking to him.
“Huh?”
He blinks, and Mimiko nudges him. “She said she’ll buy us all pizza and bake cookies if we help!”
“And she’ll buy you wine,” Nanako finishes.
“Oh…” How’d he not hear that, he watched that pretty mouth move… but his thoughts were not about pizza or food. Not at all. “You don’t have to get us anything, we’d love to help.”
“No, really, please let me. It’ll be nice to make friends.”
You turn away then, leaving the three of them staring after you, Suguru’s gaze locked on your swaying hips underneath leggings that cup your ass far too perfectly. He clears his throat and forces his gaze to the moving truck, wondering how bad it is that he wants to get to know his new neighbor so damn well when he’s a complete loner damn near in the neighborhood.
Wants to know you too well.
Suguru’s divorce was brutal and since then he’s really holed up, Gojo has been trying to get him out but he’s quite the hermit, staying in his art room aside from when he takes the girls places, or has events. She hurt him pretty terribly, and Suguru already had issues from losing one of his best friends when he was young.
He still has the painting of her – Riko – the sweet girl him and Gojo had gotten so close to once upon a time, hanging up in his living room. He thinks that’s when he threw himself into art, and getting with the girls’ mom very young left him a young father, and eventually a young single parent.
He doesn’t even know where she went off to, some other country maybe, but honestly that was better for the girls. She was not involved, and his girls deserved the world. Amidst the loss and pain, Suguru was holed up almost completely, quite different from the carefree, laughing young man he used to be.
Something about you though, made him feel just a little lighter, when you smile over a shoulder at him. “You coming? I’ll get all kinds of pizza.”
Suguru chuckles softly and runs up after you, letting his gaze linger on you again as you gesture at a bookshelf. “Holy shit, how many do you have?”
“I have a romance novel addiction,” you admit shyly, the boxes of books are a ridiculous amount. “I’ll do all that, if you could just help me put it together?”
“Of course…” The four of you all help put things in its place as the movers start to finish up.
Suguru would help you move all day if it meant he got to watch you bend over in front of him, that’s so fucked and he feels like such a pervert but his goddamn eyes won’t leave your ass. He is an ass man, but this is ridiculous. He eyes your kitchen table as he helps make sure the screws are tight and can’t help but imagine you bent over it, your legs just dangling.
It’s the perfect height for-
What’s wrong with him!?
He’s glad when pizza arrives later, and the movers are gone, the living room is nice and cozy with Mimiko and Nanako nibbling on their slices and lounging on your couch. Suguru is pulling out a painting that you ask so sweetly to go on top of your fireplace, when he pauses. It’s a large abstract piece he knows intimately, his own brushstrokes, his fingers touch where his initials are.
S.G.
You have his painting!?
He looks and you have multiple works of his, you must have been quite an art connoisseur because these are all originals of his. His heart races when you come near him, smiling at the piece. “It’s beautiful huh? He’s my favorite artist.”
Mimiko and Nanako look at the piece, then look at him, just smiling, not saying a thing. “Yeah, is he?”
That’s all he asks, as he adjusts it – his own painting in the pretty new neighbor’s house was surreal. He brushes his hands off and Nanako hands him a slice of pepperoni pizza. He takes a bite, leaning against the ladder, eyes flitting between you and his work, wondering how you found this piece… It was sold years ago to an art gallery owner.
You notice him staring at it thoughtfully, before his gaze flits back on you, holding out napkins and handing him one. “You like it?” you ask softly. Suguru just nods. “It’s one of my favorites… got it at an auction last year.”
“Is that what you do for work?” He asks curiously.
“I do work at a gallery, yes! But the one here in town is the best, so I relocated,” you notice the girls are yawning a bit. “Hey, want the cookies?”
“Yes!”
Suguru looks back at the collection of his own art, then to a picture of you that you have face down on the mantle of the little fireplace. Your home is set up the exact same style as his own. He sees you with what looks maybe like a partner, a man hugging you from behind, but he just sets it back down, making no mention.
You appear to be single, but he can’t assume.
And why is he wondering? Why is he jealous already at the thought of someone being with you – he just met you.
After sending the girls home with cookies, it’s just you and him in the quiet of your kitchen, you pull out a bottle of wine and grin. “It’s my favorite kind.”
“Oh?” He eyes the bottle curiously, before uncorking it and inhaling the scent, mixing with whatever your fragrance is, it is more intoxicating than your wine. “And you’re sharing with me?”
“Of course! I appreciate you so much, have at least a glass before you go home,” you offer softly, before sorting through your box of dishes. “Aha!”
He chuckles a bit at how cute you are, washing the glasses for the two of you, handing him one now, your fingers brushing. Goosebumps rise on your skin from just that, and you both pause once more. You can’t figure out what that is, sure watching him almost shirtless earlier and his muscles bunching and moving has you a little too excited.
Yet it’s different.
“Your daughters are beautiful,” you manage to say then, softly, pouring him a glass of a pretty pinot. “They’re so sweet too.”
“They’re brats, don’t let them fool you,” you laugh and sit next to him, sipping your wine carefully, hands wrapping the stem of your glass, your fingertips stroking it. Your hair is messy, you’re all sweaty and disheveled, baby hairs slipping around your brow.
You look so beautiful.
He swallows the wine quickly, the last thing he wants to be is your creepy obsessed neighbor, but you are already talking. “This may seem rude but you look too young too have teenagers?”
“Ah,” he clears his throat, smiling at you. “I was young. Like… eighteen.”
“Oh! Goodness, that’s so impressive that you’ve done such an amazing job, it must have been difficult.” Your words melt him more and more, it takes a lot not to lean over and kiss you then and there, practically a stranger.
He holds himself back, never a man to just jump on instinct, especially after his past relationship, but it takes a lot not to at least cup your cheek. “Thank you, it was pretty hard honestly, but we are very close.”
“And… their mom? Is that invasive?” Your brows draw together.
“She’s not in their life,” his tone is harsh for a moment, and you feel horrible for him then, sensing the pain he doesn’t say out loud. “Not for years.”
“Oh, well…” You sigh, shaking your head. “She’s missing out, hmm?”
Suguru smiles at you, a little relief in his gaze, sipping the wine and letting a little drip fall, you catch it with your thumb before you can think better, making him pause. The air around you both makes it difficult to breathe or move, Suguru’s hand gently touching yours then, before you pull back and look down nervously.
“She is,” he finally says, clearing his throat. “Is anyone moving in with you?”
“Oh, no, it’s been years for me too…” You murmur, sighing now, eyes fluttering shut. “I had a pretty serious relationship, but he passed away a few years ago. So I haven’t… dated since.”
“Oh…” fuck, the pain on your face says it all, and it’s one he has from losing his friend so young, your eyes glimmering, the prettiest jewels glossy with tears. “I’m so sorry that happened to you.”
“It was a long time now but I guess I haven’t put myself out there,” you admit softly. “Just shook me up, even though it was not too long of a relationship. He was still very special.”
“Losing someone like that will fuck you up,” he murmurs, brushing a messy lock of your hair back. “I understand.”
“I wish you didn’t,” you say softly. “I thought a fresh start in a new place may help, and so did my family. So the opportunity presenting itself? It seemed a little like fate telling me to go.”
Suguru smiles softly, his cologne and the lingering scent of the perspiration filling your senses as he leans close. “Fate, do you believe in that?”
“To an extent? Yes. See, some handsome strong man just saw me move in and offered to help,” you poke at a broad shoulder playfully, watching him laugh and shake his head. “And you? You got pizza and wine. Fate.”
“Fated pizza, huh?”
“Mhm,” you giggle and sip your glass.
It’s too comfortable, the silence even.
Soon you walk him over to your door, and the cool breeze from the night air works overtime to chill heated skin. “Thank you so much for making my first day here amazing, I was so nervous.”
“Of course, you feel free to come over any time. I’ll buy pizza next,” he says, as you two awkwardly sort of stand there again, him taking your hand. “This is our greeting so I suppose it’ll be our goodbye too.”
He places a cute kiss on your knuckles, hand swallowing yours with how huge it was, you giggle again, kissing the back of his rough knuckles. “Good night, Suguru.”
“Good night.”
Suguru can’t help but sketch you from memory that night, like a madness in his art room, peering over at your bedroom window. It was a cruel joke to have them facing each other, where he could see your silhouette behind your blinds, your window left just a little open, so there are hints of your frame.
He’d not drawn a thing in a month, not anything worthy of not being thrown out, frustratingly unmotivated. He had a good savings from how much he’s made with his art so it’s not like he had to work, but to not do what he loved felt so cruel, truly, like a piece of him had been missing.
Now charcoal flies right over the paper, the figure of you with those glittery eyes, a swipe or two of dust on your clothes from moving, that tremulous little smile. He sketches the curve of your waist, the jut of your hips hiding under that sweater, and it may be the first thing he hasn’t wanted to throw out in months.
Fate, did that exist?
Was his muse his brand new neighbor?
******
“Geto!” You greet your neighbor at the art gallery that weekend, surprised to see him there, looking far too attractive in a three piece suit. The man had no right to look that good. “I didn't know you enjoyed art!”
He flushes across those high cheekbones just a bit, clearing his throat with a little smile. “You could say I enjoy it. You… work here?”
“I do,” Geto procures two drinks from one of the trays, handing a little glass of pinot. “Thank you, where are the girls?”
“They are at a sleepover, they're growing up on me.”
“Aww, no don't worry, they adore you,” you touch his shoulder, making his heart hammers.
God you look pretty.
This little black dress is just clinging to your form in all the right places, tantalizing and tempting him in too many ways. In one way, he wants to paint you, in another he wants to drop to his knees and sip you up like the wine on his tongue.
Suguru was not someone to get nervous, to get affected like this. No he focused on his art, on his daughters – too busy and too choosy of who he lets in his life to have much interest in someone. Of course he appreciated beauty, he loved pleasure, but it's not often he's left speechless like this.
You're sweet, giggling and pointing at his own painting. Making him so nervous as you assess it, while he assesses you, the way the light hits the curve of your neck, how that red lipstick just makes your skin look so pretty. Everything about you standing in front of him makes it hard to concentrate.
“Are you all right?” You ask softly, Suguru clears his throat and smiles, focusing on what you're saying.
“I'm sorry, yes. You said…”
“This is my favorite piece,” you look at it almost lovingly. Fuck if you looked at him like that? He'd fucking drop to his knees, he almost does when you walk up to it. Fingers hovering an inch over the brush strokes raised on canvas. “I love this artist so much.”
“Yeah, do you?” You nod and grin all pretty, sipping your drink once more. “Why's that?”
“The emotion and… there's such a darkness,” your words are soft, contemplative. “A sadness they express so beautifully.”
“Ah, Mr. Geto!” Your boss comes up now, the owner of the gallery, shaking Suguru’s hand as you watch curiously. “We are so glad you could make it!”
“Of course,” amethyst eyes lock onto yours, his lips curving up, blush reddening his tanned skin. “I'm really glad you all wanted to display this one.”
You blink now.
Suguru is…
Your favorite artist!?
Your boss says your name and you snap out of it, feeling the cool rush of air while the doors open, barely brushing against your skin that’s far too warm, as more people walk in to admire the tall, dark haired man’s art. Suguru seems a little unused to the attention, rubbing the back of his neck and just smiling a little bit when more people come up to him.
How’d you not put two and two together? The fancy, scrawled S.G, that’s etched into the night sky in between the swirls of clouds. You had noticed some paint on his hands before but sort of assumed he was just doing touch ups to his home, if anything. It doesn’t help the crush you already have on your neighbor, the insane feelings making you tremble even now.
“Thanks,” he mumbles the answer while they are swarming around, girls giggling and giving you just a prick of jealousy. You don’t know why, either, you hardly know him – and of course he’s attractive and clearly talented. Yet his eyes meet yours over his glass, signaling almost for you to save him.
“Mr. Geto,” you cut in a little bit, and he says your name, his lips curving up. “Maybe you’d like to see some of my favorite work here?”
“I’d love that, excuse me,” Suguru takes the out you give him, and exhales in relief when you get him out of the throng of people, looking at you gratefully. “Thank you, love.”
Love.
Fuck he shouldn’t call you that.
“You want a little air?” You ask softly.
“Please, I’m not… good with attention,” you smile at just how cute he is in that moment, yes he’s tall, broad, handsome, but in that moment he’s just…
Shy.
Suguru Geto is a little shy.
You both step out into the gardens, where they have more art pieces put up on easels, the two of you so close your shoulder brushes against his arm, the suit material soft against your skin. Goosebumps rise at the proximity, Suguru pauses and turns to look down at you, taking off his jacket.
“You don’t have to!” You flush when he places it over your bare shoulders, you get an eye full of his dress shirt stretching around his broad chest, he rolls up his sleeves just a bit to taunt you with those veiny forearms and artist’s fingers. “Aren’t you gonna be cold?”
“Nah, feels amazing,” you look so pretty in his jacket, practically swallowing you when you hold it tightly, smiling gratefully. “Looks better on you anyway.”
“Me?” You giggle now, shaking your head. “I don’t think so.”
He can’t help but picture laying you on it, sprawling your hair out on the soft inner satin, and looking at how gorgeous you would be, underneath him. Would he paint you before or after he licked every inch of your body, explored all of that smooth skin with his fingertips?
The thoughts are maddening, he of course found you pretty when he saw you move in, but they’re getting worse by the moment. He’s scared to just… say it though, you seem lovely and sweet, but who knows your life? If you’d want to date him, when you don’t really know him.
The darkness comment was true – Suguru has been through tough times, and aside from the girls and his best friends he’s scared to open up again.
“I feel so silly right now, not knowing it was you!” Your words bring him out of his thoughts now. Suguru chuckles, brushing his fingers across the strands of your hair, they gently tickle your skin.
“No, don't at all.”
“You're like a famous artist!”
“I'm kind of niche and obscure,” Suguru shrugs a broad shoulder, while the wind starts whipping around the two of you, he tugs it close to your body.
“Thank you, Geto.”
“Suguru,” you flush at his words, looking down shyly. “Please call me that.”
“If you're okay with it?” He nods a bit, the moon is glowing softly and reflecting on the angles of his face.
He was a little too handsome.
“Suguru,” your words make him fucking ache, he bites back a moan. “I'd love to see any of your work you want to show me any time. No pressure though please! I'm fangirling right now."
Suguru chuckles, shaking his head at you. “Yeah artists don't really get ‘fangirls’ so this is new for me.”
“Well you have one now,” your eyes lower to the cleft in his chin, aching to press a kiss on it. “Your art is so beautiful Suguru.”
Suguru.
God every time you say it, it almost ruins him. Spilling from lips that are a faded red now, you're so beautiful he can’t stop the words from coming out.
“I need a subject,” he murmurs softly, bringing your attention to him. “For my art, a study of… anatomy.”
“Oh?” You look down at your heeled feet as the moonlight glows around you both, illuminating everything, casting a soft cool light.
“Yeah it's been a bit since I've taken on the female form,” he curses internally. “I sound so corny, asking this.”
You blink a bit and look back up at him. “Asking what?”
“Let me paint you,” he sighs and takes in your blush. “Like one of my French girls.”
You burst into laughter with him, shaking your head and sighing. “A titanic reference?”
“Mhmm,” Suguru is dying of thinking of just that, you naked on your side right on his couch. The curves of you right in front of him, bare for his gaze. “You wouldn't have to get naked though of course, just… anything you'd want to wear.”
“Are you serious or flattering me?” You tease. “You really would paint me? Oh my god I’m excited.”
“You are!?”
You grin now, nodding. “Let's do it.”
“Shit, yeah?” You nod and he slips his hand in yours. “I swear it's not just a hit on. It'll be beautiful to paint you.”
“Will you hang me in a gallery?” You ask softly, lashes lowering just a bit. But it makes his head spin.
How could he show anyone that body really?
“In my private gallery,” you giggle and finish the wine, inclining your head. “I’ll show you that some time too.”
“Then… let’s dip out early? Or do you want to wait?”
“Did you drive or…”
“No, just rode here.”
“Then come with me, we’ll sneak around the front.”
***
You’ve seen Suguru’s place so often but you’ve never been inside it before, and everything in it screams eccentric artist, boho chic would be the best term to describe it, messy in a way that’s not unclean. No, things are very clean, but intentional little things all over, tubes of acrylics, brushes across the counter, the chaise itself that you’ll get painted on is vintage, purple suede and gold.
Your fingers brush upon the edge of it, soft scents of cedar and hints of vanilla mixing together. He lights a couple candles, trying to organize a few things with a little smile. You see hints of the girls all over, their backpacks hanging on the hooks, pictures of them across his walls.
The way he loves them is so clear, and so beautiful.
“All right, ready for the nonsense?”
“Nonsense?”
“My art room,” he teases, you grin then. “Don’t get so excited, it’s a fucking mess. I haven’t had much inspo until…”
Until you.
You tilt your head curiously, and silence hangs thick in the air, but he falters just looking down at your pretty face, before clearing his throat, holding a hand out. “When you moved in I started drawing again.”
“Oh my god, am I like some really cool, edgy muse?” You make him laugh, nodding a bit. “Oh hell yeah, art girl’s dream.”
“Come on,” Suguru leads you into one of the rooms up the stairs, and you see several canvases stacked against the walls, many of them half finished or bare. Along the walls are beautiful portraits, many you’ve never seen. “The ones that just stay with me. Some special, some look like shit.”
“Oh, nothing you do looks bad,” you say, shaking your head, studying the ones lined along the walls curiously. “God, it’s like my dream.”
“You dream of a weird, introverted artist and his messy art room?”
“Fuck yes I do,” Suguru smiles, god you make him just feel so good, like he never wants it to end.
Nonsense, right? It’s too soon, it’s too new it’s…
You’re everything he’s ever wanted, personified in a pretty body, with an even prettier energy. No one sees this but the girls and his best friend, but he’s so comfortable now, watching you take each and every one in. Some are people, angels, demons with haunting eyes – others are landscapes, surreal or abstract. All a range but it all feels just like him.
Like Suguru.
It’s intimate im here with him now, he’s so quiet right behind you, walls covered in framed sketches. One drawing catches your eye – two young boys laughing, arms slung over each other’s shoulders. Clearly one is Suguru – and a cute, sweet little girl right next to them throwing up a peace sign.
“That’s Riko,” Suguru says quietly, noticing your gaze. “We grew up together.”
“She’s adorable, this is you, right? Is this… uncle Gojo they called him?” You ask, he nods and his lips curve up.
“That’s Satoru all right, he’s still my best friend, even if he’s annoying.”
You laugh, shaking your head then sobering up. “And Riko?”
Suguru’s eyes darken a bit, his lips pressing together. You put a hand to his chest, feeling his heart racing, stepping close to him then. “She’s… gone.”
You just tiptoe and hug him.
You hug him.
He’s frozen for a moment as you do, before he wraps arms around you, pulling you into a tight hug. Your tears are sticky against his chest, and he exhales, feeling his own emotions hit. “It’s all right, it was a long time ago.”
“It still hurts,” you whisper, he leans back and cups your face, a thumb tracing your lower lip then. “I know it does.”
“It does,” he agrees softly, then smiles at you, eyes lidded, those dark lashes casting shadows. “I do miss her, like I’m sure you miss…”
“Yeah,” he swipes a tear now. “I feel like you get it. If that makes sense. But I hate that you do.”
“I hate that you do,” he murmurs, before resting his head on yours. “Tonight, let’s just enjoy this.”
“Let’s.”
He guides you out of the room, hand entwined in yours, feeling far roo good. “You can get undressed right here,” he murmurs, gesturing to his bathroom. “Like I said, keep on whatever you want. I’ll go get the paint.”
“And more wine?” He chuckles.
“Of course more, white or red?”
“White please,” he sets his jacket down on the arm of the couch, and you nervously walk into the bathroom, glancing at the mirror and feeling your heart hammer in your chest.
Suguru Geto was going to paint you.
You slip down the straps of your dress as Suguru nervously and frantically tries to pick up a bit of the crap the girls have everywhere, it’s not too bad but he’s hoping to get the couch presentable for you. He’s drawn and painted naked women before back in his art school days, it’s just anatomy he learned then, but something about the thought of what you’d come out in drove him to distraction.
His always steady hands tremble just a bit, grabbing the easel, the paint brushes, putting down a cloth underneath it all to keep it clean. Would you wear something lacy, something simple? Either way he’d love it, imagining how good you’d look for him, in any stage of undress.
What he doesn’t expect is you to walk out naked.
His lips part, you’re a little nervously hugging yourself, cheeks a little flushed, one arm over your tits and one hand over that pussy snug between the plush of your thighs. That’s when Suguru Geto leaks so much pre it sticks to his slacks, looking at how fucking perfect you are.
He can’t say anything, his eyes wide, making you blush even more, clearing your throat and walking up to him carefully. “It’s insane but if my favorite artist is going to draw me Rose from Titanic style? I’ve gotta go all out.”
Your panties are on Suguru’s bathroom counter, next to your bra and your dress, neatly folded up, and you’re bare in his living room. He still can’t speak or summon up a damn thing, he just gently touches your hand covering your pretty breasts, watching your eyes dilate with the movement, guiding it down so that those tits gently sway, making him almost moan.
The rise and fall with your quick breaths, fingers dancing along your arm, gently pulling your hand off that cunt that makes him salivate as he looks down.
“This is crazy, isn’t it?”
He just blinks for a moment, before exhaling, stepping back to slip his gaze down your body, tracing the skin an inch away – not touching you, but the air near you, electric sparks just humming around his touch. He steps around you carefully, brushing your hair to the front, so it rests along your shoulders, fingertips barely touching your sensitive neck.
“You’re not saying anything, so I’m gonna ramble, and I’m freaking out. And-”
“Shh,” he’s back in front of you now, taking one of your hands in his own, so big it swallows yours, long lashes lowering over his purple irises. “You’re perfect.”
Perfect.
You aren’t un confident, but to hear that from him, while he gazes into your eyes rather than at your tits, your body, it’s too much. You’re trembling with need, embarrassing wetness dripping out of your hole, you almost moan just being so close to his proximity.
“You’re sweet,” you murmur, but he touches your lips to shush you.
“You’re going to be a beautiful fucking painting, I promise.” His words have you aching, wishing he could drag you against his body, kiss you, touch you. Yet he’s gentle as he guides you on his couch, gently laying you down. “Can I touch you to move you where I need?”
“Of course,” when he does you have to bite back a whimper, his big hands just a little rough from years of holding paint brushes. He takes your thigh, slipping it across the other and bending it at the knee, catching a glimpse of your pretty cunt and almost faltering. “Are you all right, love?”
“Mhm, just nervous, I need a sip.” He chuckles, a little nervous himself now, handing you the glass to sip on your side.
“I may use it, paint it in there,” he muses softly, your fingers touching each other. “Can you lean up on an elbow?”
“Y-yes…” You do just that, sipping some of the wine for courage. There was something so sensual about this moment, Suguru Geto positioning you where he needs you at, before he undoes the little row of buttons on his own shirt.
Your cunt throbs when you see him down to that thin little white undershirt, his muscles bunching underneath that skin pulled taut. You shift a little bit, thighs brushing against each other, core tightening as you sip the wine out of your glass, feeling his gaze drift along your body like a physical touch.
“Are you comfortable?” He asks, voice husky, he clears his throat a bit, grabbing the brush in his hands now. “Do you want some music on?”
You nod, so fucking gorgeous laying there it’s difficult not to stare, but he tries to keep it somewhat professional, putting on some soft music so it’s not just the sound of your breaths in the home. Though he loves that sound, loves the way you laugh, loves your energy in the room.
He sits down on the seat across from you and leans forward, that smile making his eyes crinkle at the corners, dipping the brush in the paint, swiping it across the canvas, doing a black line in the curve of your body. Hips he’d love to grab, waist he’d love to grip, puffy nipples he’d love to suck on.
You clearly are interested, the way your pupils dilate, the way you look right back at him, yet he’s just so nervous around you. The girls tease it’s been too long since he’s been out there – maybe it has, but then again maybe it’s just you that does it.
It’s a comfortable quiet as your beautiful body lays on the soft purple suede of his setté, you stay as still as you can, but you can’t help but move just a bit, hips arching, your glass slipping to your lips. Suguru’s strokes of something close to the pretty color of your skin work gently, dabbing in the areas where there is just a bit of shade, a bit of lighting, a soft glow.
“Am I being still enough?” You ask nervously, his lips curve up at the corners, leaning over to take a sip of his wine now.
“You’re doing amazing, the prettiest subject,” your blush dances on your cheeks, he decides to add a hint of that color to the picture. “Is that too bold of me?”
“Bold, I’m naked on your couch, famous artist.”
“God,” he shakes his head as you giggle a little, his gaze catching the base of your neck, where you can feel your pulse fluttering. “I’m not famous...”
“You are in the art world, I assure you,” you’ve moved just a bit, he puts down his brush with a quiet click, standing and drinking from his glass. He tilts his head to capture the light in your eyes, picking it back up.
He works on those lines, capturing the gentle swell of your breast, the dip of your waist, admiring every inch in front of him and on the canvas. It’s a comfortable silence between you both, broken only by the hitch in your breathing whenever his stare lingers too long, a certain part of your body that reacts immediately.
He continues until he pauses for a moment, tilting his head, you look down nervously then. “Did I move too much?”
“Just a bit,” Suguru kneels to reposition your bent knee, his breath ghosting over the inside of your thigh just a bit, you gasp out and your eyes lock. “I’m sorry, I should have asked again.”
“No, no…” You bite down on your lip, as your leg falls open a little wider than he’d intended, revealing the glistening puffy folds between them. His eyes linger for a heartbeat too long, pupils swallowing the violet of his irises, before he drags his gaze up to yours.
The heat in his look makes your nipples peak tighter, his fingers slipping up to brush a lock of hair behind your ear, you suck in a breath at how good it feels. You don’t want to be desperate, to beg for more, but everything about the situation and his breath on your skin is too much.
"Lift your chin," you do just as he asks, moving your chin up a bit, he looks down at you, lips far, far too close. “Perfect.”
“I’m feeling very pretty right now,” you murmur, a hand gripping his wrist when he goes to move his hand. “I may need… more repositioning.”
“Yeah?” He teases, chuckling softly, your thumb is brushing his inner wrist delicately.
“I’m not a good subject, too fidgety,” he eyes your lips, then lower, where your thighs spread just a bit again. “See? Entirely fidgety.”
“I see,” he touches your thigh and hears your sharp intake of breath, some of that dark hair falling down and brushing against your skin, to see your slick glittering on your thigh. His thumb sweeps the dampness from your inner thigh, your hand grips him tightly, a soft little cry escaping your throat. “You are moving too much, is there something I can do to help? Interfering with the painting.”
“Oh no…”
“Bratty art piece,” he teases, but he’s aching now, slipping that slicked finger and dragging it across your lips like a gloss, making you taste yourself. “How can I help you listen better, hmm?”
You lick your own slick off your mouth and lean up on your elbow, breasts brushing against his hard chest. “Maybe you could pin me down, make sure I stay where you need me?”
“Yeah?” Your intent is clear, when he leans ever closer, his breath mingling with yours, fingers finding your cunt, making him groan. “You’re soaked, love. Gonna make a mess of my couch.”
“Oh no,” your foreheads rest together, hips arching when the rough pads of his fingers drag through your syrupy folds, finding your little clit. “Mnh!”
“How do you taste?” He whispers, pulling his fingers back and sucking you off him, leaving you aching, watching his cheeks hollow. “Fuck…”
Suguru’s kissing you then, and everything shifts in that moment – he’s felt desire, but he’s never felt whatever connecting his lips with you is like. He moans against them, a hand entangling in your hair at the nape of your neck, your hands grip his broad shoulders, hips arching for more of him.
“Please,” your desperate little whisper almost does him in, your heart hammering under your pretty breasts, fluttering against his chest, his fingers slipping up again. Your head falls back, his lips brushing across your throat, fingers running circles on your clit, which jumps in response, your cunt drooling. “Suguru…”
He drinks in your moans, tongue sweeping inside the hot recesses of your mouth, pulling back for just a moment, a trail of saliva dripping from between your lips now. “I’m being unprofessional, huh?”
“Very,” you tease, but the laugh turns into a needy little whine, more pressure on that clit, your slick pouring down his fingers. He moans as he feels it, hot and wet, slipping just the finger tip down and in your gummy walls.
“So tight,” he whispers in wonder, thick finger stretching you, pulling back to let more slick pour out. “How should I keep you still then? Do you need to cum?”
You’re eagerly nodding, Suguru’s finger slipping all the way inside your hole, when the phone starts ringing. You tense and he curses a bit, eyeing it and then pausing.
“I have to take this one,” he eyes you carefully. “I’m so sorry.”
“No, no, of course,” you’re trying to gather yourself a bit when he picks up the phone.
“Girls, what is it this late?” He’s quiet, and you realize who it is, exhaling just a bit, gathering yourself. You’re too lost in that moment, in everything about Suguru Geto, down to the fact that he’s just that amazing of a parent too.
He’s quiet for a moment, then sighs, laughing a little. “All right, I’ll come get you then, but you owe me. Dishes all week.”
You laugh softly in the background, he comes back over and you’re already hastily getting dressed.
“I’m so sorry,” he says then, you’re just a little nervous anyway, what was that between you both? “We can finish the painting another night?”
“Of course we can,” you whisper, leaning up and kissing his lips, which still taste like you. He carefully adjusts the straps of your pretty dress, a kiss drifting on your forehead. “The girls come first.”
“They do, but I love that you… that it doesn’t bother you.”
“Never would,” you nervously shift a bit where you stand, eyes locking on his then. “Next time you could paint me at… my place?”
“I can, soon I hope,” he doesn’t know what to say or do, just a little awkward at that moment. “I'll walk you back.”
After reluctantly dropping you off with another heated kiss, Suguru heads in to get his keys, seeing black lace panties on his bathroom floor. He should return them to you, but instead puts them in his room for… artistic reasons.
*****
Sure.
Totally not to jerk it to with them buried against his face, putting it in his mouth like a gag to keep quiet that night, as he strokes his cock that’s aching. And of course, right as he’s working his cock up and down with his fist, whispering your name in his mind while your sweetness coats his tongue, the phone rings again.
“Fuck me…” He grumbles, but then he sees it’s you. “Shit… shit, shit, shit…”
Suguru’s already leaking pre from his pretty tip, this light tan that’s now drenched in streams of white, a hand reaching for the phone and putting you on speaker.
“Suguru, hey…” you bite nervously on your lip, still trembling from his touch. “Is this too clingy, to call you after?”
“No, no,” Suguru hardly bites back a moan. Is he filthy to keep stroking his cock, hearing your cute little sigh? “Are you all right, princess? I mean… shit…”
“Princess?” You almost fucking squeal, pressing your thighs together in need.
“Sorry, I-”
“I like it,” your voice is so sexy then, making Suguru moan out loud. You blink a bit then blush. “Are you um…”
“It's been a long time and you were right on my tongue,” He's so pathetic and desperate for you, but how can he not be? “I'll stop-”
“No, don't stop,” you lay back on your bed, fingers slipping down your body. “Let me hear you.”
Suguru Geto is in love.
“Hah – so you’re not the sweet little thing I thought,” he manages to whisper into the phone, stroking his cock again, hearing your little desperate gasp. “You’re touching that pretty pussy?”
“Is that t-terrible?” You gasp out the words, he shuts his eyes then, shaking his head even though you can’t see, spitting on his cock in a bubbly trail, letting it hit that thickened cockhead.
“No, princess,” you moan softly. “I wanted to do so much more before I had to leave.”
“Tell me what you wanted to do,” Suguru takes your panties now and strokes the lace on his cock, your half painted picture was sitting right in his room, half of the curves of that body were enough to destroy him. “I mean, if you want!?”
He chuckles – a broken little sound, stroking his cock faster with the silk, feeling so filthy yet everything about it was perfect. Your arousal lingering on his lips, your art hanging up right in front of him, your voice right in his ear when he takes you off the speaker, lips near the phone.
“Are you touching that little clit, or your tight pretty hole?” You’re soaked at his husky words, surprising you as much as they make you ache, make you throb. “I mean is that too-”
“Fuck keep going,” you’re lost, arching your hips and rolling your finger in little circles on your clit. “Mnh!”
“The sounds you make,” he huffs out softly, the sound of him stroking his cock filling the bedroom – he’s very thankful to be up on the loft floor all alone, far away so no one hears such debauchery.
Yet he couldn’t keep you quiet, no he’s sure of it.
“Can hear how wet she is on the phone,” he murmurs, as your fingers slip in your hole, nothing like his. “I wanted to make you cum all over my fingers to start – then I wanted to bury my face and drown in your cunt.”
“Oh my g-god…” You’ve never been talked to like that, trembling thighs clamping down on your own hand, already pulsing as Suguru leaks white sticky ropes against your once perfect, now ruined, panties. “You wanted to um… l-lick it?”
“Not lick it princess, hah -” his skin is coated in just a thin little sheen of perspiration. He’s moaning, stroking faster and faster – the fwap fwap fwap sounds so filthy and mixing with the squelch and click of your fingers on your cunt. “I want to suck on your little clit, feel you drool on m’face.”
“Suguru!” You’re lost in his words, in the images of his long dark hair against your skin. “You’re… I… you do?”
“You’re so fucking cute,” he exhales, eyes fluttering shut. “Yes, I want you to ride my face and spill all over it, soak me.”
“Ride your face?” You’re just a little inexperienced in that you’ve never ridden a face, blushing so furiously.
“Hmm, haven’t done it? Don’t worry, I’ll have your thighs on either side of me…” You cry out softly, hips jerking up, fingers curling deep inside yourself. “Are you imagining me?”
“Y-yes… I am, mnh!” Your eyes roll back, clit twitching, cunt slippery.
“Cum f’me, princess, picture my mouth right there.”
Suguru Geto was shy.
Suguru Geto was reserved.
Suguru Geto was freaky.
You cum so hard your fingers feel your own pulsing, touching that spot just enough to push you over that edge. Suguru groans when he hears it, your pretty whimpers while you’re cumming on the phone. “Your messy, pretty cunt… it’s so loud.”
You’re too lost to blush, or you would, as he hears the wet sloppy sounds your messy hole makes, spurting and gushing. His amethyst eyes flutter shut then, he’s so close now after hearing you, stroking faster and faster, panting your name in a desperate little whisper.
Suguru’s ragged breath rings out with your name on his lips over and over like a devotion, the painting just a bit blurry as his eyes fades. The phone is muffled against his cheek as he spills hot stripes across your panties – once a pristine black lace, now a sticky fucking mess of white.
“F-fuck…” he’s never done this, over the phone, a sweaty mess as his cock jerks with all of those aftershocks. “Oh my god.”
“Mnh…” you’re running your fingers through your slick as your heavy breaths fill each other’s ears over the phone.
“I can picture you,” he murmurs, running a thumb across his tip and exhaling.
“Can you?” you ask, fucked out alreadt, shifting on tangled sheets, your fingers slipping from your swollen clit that’s so sensitive you hiss.
“Mhm, skin shining, gripped those sheets with one hand,” you let that go and laugh, breathless. “Cunt is all puffy too.”
“You’re insane,” he laughs too, wiping a hand across his face. "Suguru?"
"Yeah," his voice is a little hoarse, you hear fabric rustle, picturing him wiping up his pretty cock. “I’m the creepy neighbor now, who was jerking it to you.”
“Never, I was already…”
“Yeah?”
“Shh,” he laughs again. "I... really liked hearing you."
"You did?”
“Oh yes,” you’re a trembling mess, slipping your shorts up, cunt just aching for all of him. “I’ve never done that.”
“Want a secret?”
“Yes.”
Suguru sighs, cleaning up his hands now. “I haven’t done that either. It’s been… a long time since I’ve done anything.”
“Really?” You sound a bit surprised. “You’re so gorgeous though.”
“Tch,” he sighs now, shaking his head, walking over to that half finished painting and brushing his fingers across it. “You’re gorgeous.”
“Oh, Sugu… I mean Suguru!”
“I like that,” he murmurs. "Your voice when you came, how wet you sounded, I need to really hear it, see it.”
Your breath catches, heart hammering in your chest.
“Is it too much?”
“No, no… Suguru I called for…” You wrack your addled brain, fucked out by just his voice. “A date tomorrow. My place, we... finish the painting.”
"Your place," he murmurs slowly. "What time? I’ll make sure the girls are… not gonna call again.”
You laugh softly. “They will always be the most important, that doesn’t bother me one bit.”
“I know,” he adores you already, so much affection and obsession it scares him just a bit. “I still want an entire night with you.”
His insinuation is clear, his voice smooth like honey, making you pulse with aftershocks. “Mnh…”
“God, how you sound,” he’s fucking getting hard again. “What time, you didn’t tell me?”
"Six work for you?”
"Gonna be torture, princess,"
“What?” You laugh nervously.
“That long.”
“Oh… you’re excited?”
Suguru chuckles, shaking his head and looking in the mirror for a moment, just as you do in your room, seeing both of your dilated eyes. “Yeah, I’m excited.”
“Then I’ll have dinner ready.”
All Suguru Geto wants to eat is you.
*****
“Have fun, best buddy,” Satoru Gojo has brought the limo to make sure the girls are good for the night. They love his mansion and the ridiculous, extravagant shit he buys them, already bouncing up and hugging him.
“Uncle Gojo!” They’re met with tousles of their hair and his chuckle, as he eyes you across the street then.
“Ooh, is that her?” He asks, lowering his sunglasses to study you, you wave all friendly and cute, earning a low whistle. “If it doesn’t work out for you-”
“Gojo, I swear to god,” Suguru glares and Satoru just flutters his fingers at you, before getting unceremoniously shoved into his own limo. “Bye now.”
“Seriously, no introductions!?” He is appalled, the girls are giggling. “Ya worried she’d like me too?”
Suguru rolls his eyes, the girls hug and kiss him good bye. “Good luck, old man.”
“I’m not even old, Nanako, god,” she just waves and hops in the obstentatious limo. Mimiko kisses his cheek.
“You’ll do great, just act like yourself.” Suguru’s heart melts at his daughter, he playfully tugs her pig tail then.
“Love you girls.”
“What about me!?” Satoru demands, crossing his arms and glaring as you walk up now. “No thank you? No I love you? No kiss?”
“For fucks sake, Satoru,” Suguru grumbles and lets his best friend hug him so tightly his damn back cracks. “I love you too, now go.”
“Aww, you’re in wuv with her,” Suguru finally gets Satoru’s lanky ass in the limo, waving goodbye.
“Aw, you should have introduced me,” you said when he walked over finally, his art supplies in his arms. “I’d love to meet your best friend.”
“Another time, he… had to go.”
“Oh! Okay, come on in, I made-” Suguru wastes no fucking time, after he sets the supplies down, kissing your lips. “Mnh!”
“Fuck,” he whispers, breath hot, cupping your face with his huge hands then that take you over. “Sorry.”
“N-no,” you tug at his sweater, bringing him down close to you then, exhaling and looking at him with your lidded gaze. “Don’t apologize, please.”
“I can’t even think of anything but fucking filling you up,” you’re kissing once more, as Suguru loses any tentative control he has, after jerking it till he was raw last night, already throbbing when he shuts the door behind you both. “God, you look beautiful.”
“Ah!” Suguru’s teeth sink against the delicate curve of your neck, his big arms around your waist, tugging you so close. He shocks you then, as you both stumble into the kitchen, his hands everywhere, your hands slip up his chest as you stumble back against your counter, the coolness against your back.
“Sorry, shit,” he tries to pull back, seeing the pretty meal you have all ready on top of the stove, salivating for an entirely different reason.
“Aren’t you hungry?” You manage to ask weakly, voice trembling, Suguru chuckles and lifts you up on that counter, spreading your thighs wide and shoving that dress up over the curve of your hips.
“Starving,” he answers, kneeling for you then. Suguru Geto on his knees, eyeing your pretty cunt and moaning. “No panties?”
“My last came up missing with you,” you tease, biting down on your lower lip as he gets a perfect view of your cunt that’s just winking and pulsing for his view, parting your puffy lips and spreading your folds wide. “Suguru you’re… you’re so in there!?”
“I sure am,” your cunt is spread wide for his artistic gaze, earning his moan when he sees inside you. “I can’t wait to fill it with white.”
You’re a flustered mess, spread wide on your kitchen counters in your brand new home for your neighbor across the street, hands gripping his raven locks and tightening, a whine escaping your throat. Thighs tremble on either side of his head, legs on each broad shoulder, letting him slip his tongue all the way inside like it’s fucking you, the wet muscle curling right up.
“Suguru! Ngh!” Just once delicious fuck of his tongue in your hole fucking destroys you, his amethyst eyes so dark you can barely see a ring of color, your pussy drooling down his tongue, down his mouth, you’re spasming around him, nose bumping your twitchy clit, eliciting another desperate little moan.
Your hands entangle in his dark locks, silky strands carding through your fingers, your hips arching up so that your cunt is right in his face, Suguru drinks you up like he’s a starved man, fingers dimpling the plush of your thighs. He’s lost in your pleasure, eyeing your pretty face that falls back, hair tumbling down your shoulders, thighs trembling with pleasure.
His tongue flicks up higher, teasing your clit, drinking up all your arousal with that long pink tongue that had just been shoved in your snug hole. He holds your hood up to watch it jump, tiny little thing that makes him smirk, eyeing you under dark lashes as he flicks it again, cock so hard he has to rub it over his jeans, gasping out at the need for friction.
But not until you came for him.
“Sugu…” That little name with your breathy cry is his undoing, he’s close to cumming from how you say it, how your thighs press against his face, your cunt slick and drooling down his mouth with every movement of your hips. “S’good, there, there!”
You’re arching and fucking his face, much to his fucking delight, coating him in your slick that just makes a mess of him. Suguru’s tongue is flicking over and over on your clit while two fingers swirl in your wetness, pressing in and stretching that tight hole out. Tacky, textured walls grip those calloused fingers so tightly he can only imagine the moment you milk his cock.
He’d give it all to you.
Suguru doesn’t ‘hook up’ at all, he doesn’t sink to his knees and bury his face for some random girl, or even a fling – no, you were special. Your juices coating his tongue and the way your heat consumes him is merely a fraction of everything he wants and needs from you, that spasming cunt spurting juices down his fingers, his hand, his wrist, slippery and messy.
“Mmph,” he barely is able to speak with his mouth so full of your juices, pulling back with a dripping mouth, eyeing your pretty face with those fucking heart eyes. “Gonna cum on m’face Princess?”
Your answer is a jerky nod, a soft desperate whine, when you shatter for him – food untouched, wine uncorked – just your cunt squirting ever so slightly, coating his face and surprising him. He almost busts then and there as it happens, as your hole spasms and spurts so much he’s coated. The orgasm has you rolling your eyes back, head smacking on that counter.
“S-Sugu…” He groans, lapping up a stripe that has your whole body trembling, so overwhelmed with how much he’d made you cum, made you shatter. “Nghhh! F-fuckkk…”
Suguru’s standing up and lifting you now, thighs straddling his hips while he kisses you, coated in your pussy, your tongues swapping the sweetness. Your arms cling to him even as you’re shaking – boneless and weak, so dizzy it’s hard to cling to him like this, the way he consumes you, the way your core has spread that heat.
You both barely make it to your couch, the one he plans on painting you on later, but for now all he can do is rut his cock against your cunt, thickness pressing and making your core tighten. You’re clinging to him with your nails pressing in his shoulders when he leans up, slipping your dress even higher, until it’s slipped right off over your head, leaving you bare.
“Tell me to slow down,” he murmurs desperately. “To take my time, to-”
“No,” you cut him off, hastily slipping off that sweater, gasping when you trail your fingers down the tattoos curving across his abdomen, watching the tense muscles flex underneath your touch. “I want this, I want you.”
“Fuck I want you, so much,” he’s hoarse and damn near whimpering when he frees his cock, smacking it against your puffy lips, glossy from his spit and your arousal, the sight of him pressing the tip into your hole almost his undoing. “Look at her, so tiny, gonna fucking fill you.”
He does just that, tugging a thigh up, cock sliding half way in and stretching your tight cunt then and there, a filthy squelch of your greedy hole sucking him in. “Mnh! S-so much…”
“Hah,” he leans forward, cupping your face with one hand, long dark strands slipping against your skin while he looks down at you.
Lovingly.
Suguru loves you.
There’s no sense to the timing, there’s fear there, but he can’t fucking deny it anymore.
“I love you,” he murmurs, you gasp, eyes widening. “You don’t have to say it back, I know it’s f-fucking… insane, yeah?”
You want to say it back then and there but he captures your throat with one hand, gently choking while his cock slides deep, and you can’t speak. Your nails pressing into the hot skin and strong muscles are your only answer, gasps and little weak whimpers mixing with your messy cunt. Suguru’s taking you over, seeing the way your tummy moves with him.
It ruins him even more, how your small little hole accommodates him, even as you struggle, as you whine out. “I know,” he huffs softly, leaning low over you and hiking your leg up. “Big stretch, hmm?”
You nod jerkily, tears of pleasure slipping from your eyes, letting him bury his cock to the hilt. Suguru has to pause to study your beauty underneath him, something to keep in mind for his art, before he works his cock in and out of your hole. Faster, deeper, folding you damn near in half as your body is buried against your own couch, sinking into the cushions.
“That’s it princess,” he praises you, you’re drooling from your mouth and your cunt as he moves, thrusting in and out, tip leaky on your cervix, you scream out in pleasure, body writhing underneath him. “Gonna cum f’me, all over me, yeah?”
You nod weakly, you’re already close – sensitive from his mouth, his tongue, his teeth.
“Then go ahead,” he whispers softly, lips brushing your nose in a cute little kiss. “Let it all out for me.”
You’re done, when those words sink in, when his lips capture yours, all you can do is orgasm all around his thick length, shattering and crying out. Suguru swallows your screams with his hot open mouth on yours, fucking you right through your orgasm, his tip dragging on the little spot in your walls.
He pulls every bit of pleasure out of you, shoving in deep and letting it drag one more time, making you a twitchy little fucking mess, dizzy and lost in him. Rain starts pattering outside – a rare thing this time of year, mixing in with your desperate little moans, your breaths, body weak.
“Good girl,” he says this shit to ruin you – you swear, when he starts thrusting again, this time so lazy and slow, each drag of his cock along your walls making you shake with overstimulation. Your legs tighten around his hips reflexively as he holds you close, hands tracing over your hips like he’s using his paint brush.
You feel like art underneath him, the way he studies you so quietly, but you didn’t need the words, just feeling everything. Your eyes flutter shut for just a moment when he kisses you, losing his rhythm now, he can feel his cock throbbing, about to bust deep inside you.
Every movement of his curved cock in your gummy walls is loud, messy, so good you're blinded. Eyes rolling back in your skull just for him to gently order you to open them. To see that pretty face hovering over you, his lips glossy, cock pulsing and impossibly thickening. Sweat drips from his slick skin to yours. Fingers tightening on a thigh to sink deeper.
“Want me to fill you up, princess?” He murmurs softly, breaking the heated silence, the rain pounding now on your windows, lightning illuminating the form over you.
“Yes.”
It’s so quick of an answer he blinks, slowing his movements inside you, groaning out when he feels you fluttering around his cock, pulsing pre. He lifts your legs higher around his hips, his hands taking over your breasts, lips trailing hot as they descend, his strokes lazy, pushing you over that limit again.
“Perfect,” his hot breath tickles your breasts, his tongue flicking lightly against your nipple, taut and sensitive, you gasp out while his wicked tongue swirls around your nipple before, drawing it gently between his teeth. “Mmm… s’fucking pretty. Can you take it all?
You nod breathlessly, your fingernails digging into his back and leaving crescent moons in his skin as he fucks you hard, leaned back shoving your thighs up high. Your hips jerk when that sharp pleasure shoots through you, when he bottoms out with his huge, veiny cock so deep.
“Gonna fill you s’good, pretty girl,” he busts so much it floods your cunt, you’re arching so that your tits are perfectly there for his bent frame to suck on, arching his back and holding you with huge hands, groaning. “F-fuckk…”
Suguru’s cumming so much it’s already pouring out, but he makes sure to shove it all back inside you, picturing how much his kids need a little sister or brother – insane thoughts overtake him. Yet, they have been since he laid eyes on you.
Drawing you.
Jerking his cock to you.
Stealing your panties.
Suguru needs you. You look up now, taking a shaky breath, eyes lowering to his lips, cupping his face then. “Suguru…”
“You don’t have to say it back, it’s okay princess,” he murmurs, but you’re blinking back tears. “Too intense?”
“Intense yeah but,” you lean up on your elbows, hair falling down behind you as a storm pounds outside. “I love you Suguru Geto.”
You’re met with a desperate, needy kiss, as the world around you both fades, leaving you covered in sheens of sweat, coated in each other. Soon Suguru lays you like you were just last night, but he makes sure to clean that cum that has slipped down your lips off with his tongue, to paint you while you’re both completely naked.
He’s moving the brush on the canvas, not able to really capture how fucked out your pretty eyes are, just sighing as his paint starts to form the silhouette of the girl he’s in love with. You’re still trembling, cum pouring from your hole that he hasn’t cleaned out completely yet.
“Suguru…” You murmur softly, he eyes you then. “Your art subject is… sticky.”
He chuckles then, putting the brush down, and walking to you, tilting your chin up as he kneels. “I can’t have my subject in such a state.” He sits you up, making you gasp when he spreads your thighs. “I’ll just have to clean her up more, won’t I?”
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I didn't expect Dopamine to get much attention at ALL so thank you all! Here is a preview for the next chapter (it will be a bit though!!)
Sukuna is dabbing a little washcloth on your brow, you're shaky and overheated from punching that bag.
Imagining Gojo’s face.
"Feel better?" He asks, chuckling a little and handing you a water.
"Actually yes," you look up into those ruby eyes that hold so much in them, lost for a moment.
Sure, Gojo cheats, but are you any better if you do it back?
Yet when Sukuna’s sooty pink lashes lower, and his hands gently fix one of your bobby pins up, you catch his wrist. He pauses, teeth glinting with his little grin.
"Practicing self defense against big ass pink haired men who touch your hair?"
You know he's joking, but you step closer, breath catching when you inhale his scent. Not that obnoxious cologne Satoru wears, it's real and male and musky.
It shoots straight to your core.
Sukuna exhales, letting you put his hand on your cheek, so big and tall over you, shadows casting across the boxing ring. "I don't want to get you involved in my mess, Sukuna."
"Maybe I don't mind a mess," you sigh, looking at his plump lips, his tattooed hand tugging you closer by the waist. "Messes are my specialty. Wanna know why?"
You swallow nervously, trembling in front of him, sweat making you shiver just a bit as the AC kicks on overhead. "Why?"
"Because, I'm damaged too, I just hide it better than you," you shut your eyes for a moment.
"I've only kissed once," he blinks a bit, frowning. "So maybe I'll suck at this."
"What now-" That's when you - Mrs. Gojo - tiptoe and kiss Ryomen Sukuna on his lips.
And that's when he drags you against him and presses your back on the ropes around the boxing ring, moaning. Hard body, hot and heavy, a thigh pressing where you've never been touched, making you whine out.
For the first time maybe ever, you feel so wanted, the way he devours you like he's waited forever. And then. You're lost in it.
You're married to Satoru Gojo - an arrangement since your childhood, one you're so excited for. You soon find out - he wants nothing to do with you. Any one is preferable, from the waitress at your engagement party, to his secretary. Torn apart by insecurities and devastated by the fact that you can't make this one sided affection work, you decide to find something to keep you going until Gojo finds a way to end the marriage. That's what lands you right in the notorious boxing ring in town - led by Ryomen Sukuna, who finally sees you.
pairings - Arranged! Gojo x Reader x Boxer! Sukuna
warnings!!! - Heavy, heavy angst, cheating and reactive cheating, Satoru is ooc, cruel and mean, reader starts off very shy/insecure, Soft Sukuna but he still don't mind being buried inside married reader, a fuck ton of feelings, eventual smut, explicit, mentions of insecurities, painful and hurtful all around.
This WILL have multiple endings, all of these three are gonna be messy. Told from Reader, Gojo and Kuna's POV and split up by each! based on this drabble - WC - 9k
This won the 30k followers poll! Thank you so so much again!!
part one
Gojo -
Satoru Gojo his entire life has been used – as the ‘head of the Gojo’ clan, as the heir to the empire, everything in his life has been set in stone the moment he was born. They never gave him a real choice, barely let him have friends his entire childhood, no it was studies, it was pressure, it was how to be absolutely perfect, telling him who to talk to, how to act, how to walk.
He knew inevitably his time in college was just a fun distraction, where he had friends for the first time, where he felt almost normal, where he secretly dated – his parents would not approve – of the girls he talked to. Yet he fell into it just a bit, enjoying it too much, partying and fucking the worst girls, ones that would make his parents gasp in shock.
He hung out with the worst crowd, too, straight up heathens really, to rebel as much as he could, before the inevitable fact – his dad was dead, and he was turning twenty four, there was no more partying, no more life, no more dreams. All there was – the obligations, the responsibilities, the arranged wife they’ve had picked out since you both were children.
Oh, you’re beautiful, it’s not that.
You’re sweet, you’re smart, you’re kind.
It’s not that.
You’re not his choice, nothing about his entire fucking life was his own choice, and this is just another thing, another way to show him what he is – just something to be used, just a tool for his family to have power. The richest family in Japan must have that, right? And you were from the second richest, and one of the most powerful, from an impeccable line.
You were impeccable, you were exceptional, you were ‘perfect’.
And Satoru Gojo hates you on sight, the moment you meet him at the engagement party – yeah, that's where he officially meets you, and doesn’t just ‘hear about you’. That’s where he sees how fucking gorgeous and bright you are, and for a moment his heart hammers in his chest, for a moment he’d sink to his knees to get a taste of you.
Then he remembers it all, when you shyly look down, when you ring your hands in front of you.
Obligation.
Arrangement.
You didn’t want this, want him, choose him – who would other than for his name, for his power? For what he could do for your family, for everyone. You’re shoved into this – a contract from your youth, who knew what the fuck you wanted, or who you’ve been with, who you want to be with?
You didn’t choose him, he didn’t choose you.
He keeps reminding himself in moments where he thinks the light from the chandeliers are hitting too nicely on your collarbones, when he looks at your lips just a little too long, instead he politely smiles, and turns away. Why, do you ask, does he turn away from his future wife?
Why is he later kissing another woman, fingering her right on the balcony, where pretty much anyone who walks by could see, smirking against her neck with every moan she muffles. Why does Satoru Gojo pick the most common, slutty little waitress to do so, when you’re there in a beautiful fucking gown, and look lost and upset, your lips trembling?
Because imagine a world where he falls – and you didn’t choose him. Imagine he thinks for a brief moment he could have happiness in his life, a joke really, it’s just flitting little moments. He can only handle so much pain, and in turn he causes you the pain, the embarrassment, sucking her juices off his thick fingers after she cums, laughing just a bit and walking back in.
His elders are furious, everyone is murmuring about his antics, as he throws back a shot and chuckles, but you?
You just look down, and a couple of tears fall, turning away and sipping on your wine. You say nothing even as he dances with you later, stumbling a bit with how drunk he’s gotten, to piss them off – to tell them he’s not going down without a fight – looking at you curiously.
You stare at his chest, you say nothing.
“Having fun?” He asks, and you scoff a bit, looking up with glassy eyes, and for a moment it pierces his drunk heart.
He’s horrible.
But isn’t he just a disappointment anyway?
“Am I having fun watching you with another woman at my engagement party?” You ask softly, shaking your head. “I get it, I’m not your type. I knew that from people telling me so.”
He pauses, right in the center of the dance floor.
“Yet I expected some decorum, I expected you to at least be respectful, not to show the world how unappealing you find me,” you whisper, biting down on your lip, shaking your head now. “I wanted to at least try here, with you.”
Satoru can’t speak.
Until he spins you, and catches you, his big hand taking over your waist, thumb pressing under the swell of your breasts. He almost falls then, from just a look, yet he holds himself back, he stops every insane thought and action, laughing easily, like he’s amused.
Satoru is good at hiding.
“Ya thought we’d have some story book romance, huh? Oh… you’re a fairy princess and I’m from another kingdom? And oh…” He leans down, so low to you, lips a breath away. “I fall for the princess, she’s just so beautiful, how can’t I?”
“Gojo…”
“News to you, perfect little fairy princess, I’m not interested in marriage, or any of this shit, this show, I fucking hate it,” his words are harsh, as he squeezes you too tightly, so tightly you’re shaking, tears streaming down your cheeks. “Your prince from another kingdom just stuck his fingers in a waitress. That’s reality, sweetheart.”
You tremble in his hold, and he knows then.
He hurt you.
Good, he thinks, shit will be easier that way, safer if you hate him, if you smack him, tell him to fuck himself. Yet you tilt your chin up and spin as the dance calls for, giving a little curtsey as he steps closer, not showing a hint of emotion aside from your tears that you seemingly can’t stop.
“I see,” is all you say then, stepping back into his arms, as the crowd of gossiping families speaks of it all, you hold all of your composure, even as he raises a brow, looking down at you. “Maybe I am foolish, to have thought it that way. Yet I still don’t understand why you’re…”
“What, little princess? So mean?”
You just look down again, quiet, swallowing visibly, you smell too good, invading his fucking senses. “I didn’t think you were mean when I met you as a child.”
“As a child?” Satoru pauses, and you sigh, shaking your head.
“Of course you wouldn’t remember, I’m not very special.” You step back as the song ends, and your tragic eyes meet his, before lowering them and bowing a little bit. “Have a good rest of your evening, I’m feeling a little…” You look at the girl he’d just kissed. “Sick.”
When you rush off, politely excusing yourself, Satoru feels this sinking in his heart, questions simmering under the surface – what if he just was kind to you? What if he at least didn't make a fool of himself?
But he doesn't go after you, no that would have been the ‘right’ thing to do. The thing is, you're much better off without him. So he's dancing with women who make his family furiously whisper amongst themselves, and he just knows -
You will hate him, and you’re better off for it.
*****
You
You didn't expect a fairy tale marriage. Even marrying the man who is basically the ‘prince’ of all the families, all of the clans, the Gojo heir. You may as well be the ‘princess’ of your own, both of you promised as children to each other, knowing no love or match would come to anything.
This was it, your future, but you met him when he was just a little kid, he's two years older than you. His blue eyes and spiky white hair were enough to make your heart race, but mostly you noticed how sad those blue eyes were.
He wasn't mean then, he was kind and reserved, not boisterous, laughing and acting a fool. He was cautious more like you are, both of you not wanting to disappoint your very harsh parents who had so many expectations. Satoru had given you his hand, holding it tightly, pressing a little kiss on the back of it.
So you'll be my wife some day
Yeah…
You're um… pretty.
That was it, just a moment and then he'd had to run off. And you only saw Satoru in bits and pieces, here and there from afar, watching and knowing he didn’t notice you. Yet that moment gave you hope.
Just to fucking crush it all.
It's your wedding night, and his staff is carrying all of your luggage inside the expensive mansion. Satoru is drunk, you notice he is around you, as if that helps with the pain of having to be married to you, stumbling just a bit and chuckling darkly when you try to help him.
“I'm fine,” he yanks your hand off like you burned him. Your tummy is in knots, you feel sick. “Let me show you your room. Princess.”
He says it always mockingly, tonight you know he was with someone again, he's made no attempt to hide kissing others. You're sure he probably does more, but you're innocent yourself so you don't exactly know what's what. Your parents pounded innocence and propriety in your head.
You'll be Gojo’s wife, you must be pure for him.
What a joke, really, to be pure for someone who will never want you, to watch him kissing on necks in the gardens, laughing until he sees your face. You never have been a very confident girl, but everyone has always told you that you're pretty, lovely, so you sort of didn't think your looks were an issue.
Then again, it could just be you. Maybe you're boring, maybe you're too proper. Your mind wracks with doubts as he leads you up the winding staircase of the Gojo mansion up to a dark hallway. He opens a door and you pause, breath catching in your throat at how beautiful it is.
“This is our room?” You ask softly, the blue silk bed and gossamer canopy snug in a room of soft whites and blues. He chuckles, making you look at him.
“They had it made for us, pretentious isn't it?” You blink a bit.
“I think it's beautiful,” it's quiet when you step in, still in your beaded and saying white wedding gown. You slip off your veil and take a breath. Looking in the mirror.
You look gorgeous today.
No matter what he says or doesn't say, you see it in that reflection. In your lashes, in your eyes, in your lips, painted a pretty crimson. Your body is showcased to perfection, modest but still sensual, just hints of your lines and curves outlined, the material glinting in the soft light.
“Your room,” he says at the doorway, and you pause, making him smirk. “You didn't think we were fucking did you?”
You blush furiously, looking down nervously at your hands entwined in front of you. “I did think we would… make the marriage official even if you don't find me attractive.”
It's dead silent, lingering in the air – your insecurities rampant.
“Why? Because our duty?” He asks, stepping inside, his dress shoes echoing on the floor, coming to stand behind you, reflection in the mirror making you tremble.
“We will need to have babies, it's expected of me. Or I'll be… a failure as a wife.” Your voice breaks, and for a moment you see blue eyes soften, you feel fingertips slipping over your straps, yet they halt, and his eyes narrow.
“I won't fuck you, not for duty or expectations, fuck them and fuck that.”
It's like a slap to the face. You take a breath, trembling now. “Gojo, am I that displeasing really? I tried so hard to look-”
“Nothing will make me fuck you,” he murmurs coolly. “We will ride this shit out till I find a way to end it somehow.”
“End it?” your brows draw together, eyes swimming in unshed tears, his fingers slip off now, going to your back, slowly undoing the little rows of buttons methodically.
“An annulment, divorce, whatever… fuck this shit, I'm not staying married.” he is casual as he helps you out of your dress, knuckles tracing up your spine, then he smirks. “Oh shit. You want me? Hah… that's cute.”
“I… um… you…” You're flushed, reflection in the mirror blushing, as you look at him, his cruel smirk, his mean eyes. “Am I not supposed to want you?”
“Of course you do, I am Satoru Gojo,” he presses those straps down, pausing when he gets a view of your breasts as you hold the dress against them, your back exposed and bare. “You can always touch yourself and think of me, who am I to deny that? But I will never touch you.”
It's like he just stabs you in the stomach. You turn, facing the cruel, tall man now, on the night you hoped for something, anything, but you're just met with a mean curve of his lips. “So what, you'll just… fuck anyone but me?”
“You can cuss?” He laughs a bit, fingers curling along one of the carefully coifed ringlets.
“Yes, I can. I just don't usually,” you take a breath. Trying to remember.
Obey him.
Treasure him.
For your family
“You don't know me and you won't even try to, will you?”
“You want dick that bad, huh?” You gasp, slapping him as hard as you can then, he winces and rubs his cheek, glaring at you. You falter, looking at his pink cheek and gasping.
“I'm sorry. I…”
“Let's get one thing straight, princess,” Satoru Gojo leans over you, an arm on either side, tilting his head as you grip your wedding dress tightly to your chest. “We can do our own things. I get it. You have to live here for now.”
For now.
“But don't you dare fucking hit me,” he grips your wrist, bruising with his long fingers, you gasp out at the pain, tears falling. “Not used to men not wanting you, huh?”
“What!?” You're blinking in confusion, his grip tightening, your heart sinking.
You feel so sick.
“Never been turned down because you're the family princess, aww. So cute,” he leans down, touching your cheek, eyes a cruel bluee. “Everyone after that money, after a chance with you, so special. Well you're not fucking special to me, we are just the same.”
“I don't think I'm special or anything!? I never said that.”
“Don't have to, I can just see it.”
You're shaking in his hold. “I just thought we could try, you don't even know if we have anything, a connection or-”
Gojo laughs at you.
He laughs.
“Try what, fucking you? You want my dick real bad.”
“No!? Just if we could feel a connection? I… like you haven't kissed me, how do you even-”
Satoru grabs your face, leaning low and pressing his lips against yours, capturing them and making you lose your breath. You melt when his plump lips work yours, when a hand comes to entangle in your hair, your hands slipping off your dress so that your nipples hit the cool air.
His tongue slips in your mouth, exploring the recesses with far too much finesse, hot and drooling as he presses you against the hard wood of the dresser.
You've never kissed.
You try to move your tongue back, knowing you're awful at it, your arms slipping around his neck. He's mean, he's cruel, but you want to try, you want to have this. Feel whatever this dizzy sensation is, one of his hands gripping your breast as he pulls back, lips glossy, eyeing them now.
“I'll give you this,” he murmurs softly. “You have perfect tits.”
“Um…” You're stammering again, whimpering when his thumb brushes your nipple.
“Perfect posture, pretty face, nice little body. It's not enough though sweetheart," he pulls back now, grinning and crossing his arms as you just stand there. “There, your kiss, and there's nothing between us. Is there? Enough to shove that fantasy out of your head?”
Nothing!?
“You think keeping your tits out will make me hard?” You gasp, covering them up, blinking back more hot tears.
He wipes his lips with his thumb. As if to remove the kiss from his memory. You look down, pain making you dizzy – deep pain.
“I just… you’re so sure that this won’t work that you’re not trying!” He laughs softly, without humor.
Charming. Handsome. Cruel.
Satoru’s two fingers brush down your collarbone and across it, a mean smile on a devastatingly pretty face as he watches goosebumps dance across your skin. "You want me to touch you. Hmm?"
"I just…" you cover yourself with your arms now, suddenly so insecure, you were anyway but this was more. It was worse, having the man you've been infatuated with since a kid turning you down, on a night you felt so beautiful. "I just thought we could try to find some common ground, to maybe make this work. Become… more?"
He leans down, his sweet breath against your lips, tickling them as his blue eyes glitter, cold like the most beautiful sapphires, and just as hard, there’s no emotion in their depths. So cold you shiver, swallowing nervously.
"Oh sweetheart, I don't want any of it. What they tell me to do, what they expect, no... I'll burn it all to the fucking ground, and them with it.”
“Burn it to the ground?” Your whisper is soft, his lips curve mean when he grips your chin.
"You're a pretty girl, but I'm not for you. That's the most you're getting from me.”
Not. For. You.
"What is so wrong with me?” You hate how desperate you sound.
Was this who you are?
Do you know yourself outside of becoming Satoru Gojo's wife?
“It’s not…” he trails off, pinching the bridge of his nose and sighing. “You just don’t seem to get it, little princess. It’s an inconvenience, this entire thing.”
Great.
You’re just a fucking inconvenience to your ‘husband’.
“We will let them think we're good for a year, maybe two. Then I'll get out of this, you should thank me really, it's not like you chose it either.”
He turns now, leaving you close to collapsing, with the pain, with the casual cruelty. “Satoru…”
“Don't fucking call me that,” he snaps, looking back at you. You step back and bump into the elegant dresser, shaking as he looks at you with such hatred. “You don't get to call me my first name.”
“I am… I am sorry if I messed something up. If I did something wrong…” You're sniffling your tears, trying to keep it together. “I haven't even kissed before and I probably am just bad at it. Just give me a chance to-”
“Stop trying,” his voice is softer, like he fucking feels bad for you. That's worse than his cruelty – pity. “Just keep to yourself and I will too, until I find a way out of it. It's useless to try.”
“Useless to?”
“Sweetheart,” his tongue is honeyed, a lilt to his voice. “I'll never want you.”
The knife in your heart?
Twisted.
“Oh, I see…” You take a breath, just nodding then, hands gripping the beaded material so tightly they ache.
Obedient.
Sweet.
Serve your husband.
It's what you were trained to be, a traditional wife who follows her husband's orders, even your stinging palm was beyond what you're used to. How can you serve a man that doesn’t want you, how can you obey someone when their only order is for you to quit trying?
As he walks out, with just one look over his shoulder before he shuts that door, leaving you alone in the room on your own in tears on your very wedding night… how can you act like that kiss meant nothing to you? How can you not sink down on that bed all alone, and sob.
The boy you fell in love with doesn't remember you.
Doesn't want you.
No, he hates you.
And you'll have to endure this and be a failure to your parents, the worst of all your fears.
You don't stop sobbing until dawn breaks into the windows.
*****
Gojo
It's been a month of having you in his home, you're trying to be so perfect too. Dinner ready every night, you sit there and wait for him, smiling so pretty, wearing some new outfit as if he will ever touch you again, trying to talk to him, to get to know him.
Satoru can't stand you.
All you do is make him want to end it quicker, so that he has no feelings in this. No amount of slutty little slips or lingering before bed time is getting him to consummate the marriage, to give in to what his family and elders shoved on him, controlling his entire life.
Nah fuck that.
Satoru is balls deep inside his secretary right now, condom dripping with her cum as he lets her bounce up and down his latex covered cock. He leans back and moans as she works him like a pro, bouncing her ass and letting it jiggle under the shoved up pencil skirt.
Of course he thinks of you, fists his cock to images of those tits, imagines those lips around his tip. All the more reason to not fuck you, imagine if he did? You were a virgin, probably would lay there and not know how to do shit, you could barely kiss him back.
He'd have to be all gentle, not slam you down and bottom out like he could right now. She's moaning, too loud, he has to slam a hand on her mouth, lips against her ear.
“We're at work,” he reminds gently.
“Sorry Mr. Gojo. Mnh!” Satoru's big hands work her up and down, bottoming out as she cums, covering her own mouth as she screams out.
“Hah, so messy,” he taunts, she's squirting all over his Armani slacks, right when the door opens.
Fuck.
Did he not lock it?
He pauses, and its…
You.
You quickly shut the door and turn away, as his secretary gasps, panicking and lifting up. Satoru drags her back down, eyeing you.
“Wife,” he teases, you turn to look at him, lunchbox in your hands. “Didn't expect you at my work. Can I cum real quick, then we can talk?”
You say nothing, obedient little thing that you are, not an ounce of fire in you aside from a little smack. He supposes that's how you were raised, how boring really, but he shoves the woman down once more. Toying with her clit and making her moan in front of you, right as he busts in that condom, groaning softly.
“Fuck, there we go,” he taps her and she hops off, giggling when she tugs her skirt down, rushing past you.
“Mrs. Gojo.” she says, you just step back and nod.
“Hello.”
‘Hello’ is what you say, to the woman who'd been riding your husband's cock?
He tosses the condom in the trash under his desk, sighing and smirking over at you, when you turn and see him, still hard and covered in milky seed, turning back around again.
“I'm sorry.”
“You're sorry?” He demands, slipping his boxers up now. “I was fucking someone and you're sorry?”
“I should have called first,” you turn back again, as he zips up, cheeks tinged pink.
You look beautiful today.
He wouldn't tell you. But you do.
“I was just… I learned to make sushi? I was so bored lately. Then… they kind of look ugly? But they're um… yummy and-”
“Just stop, fuck,” you look at him, tears in your eyes, clenched fists at your side when he takes the bento box. “Stop trying so hard, it's not gonna happen.”
“Gojo-”
“Stop, don't hurt yourself more.”
“But why am I so… why would you never ever want me?” you whisper brokenly then. “I am not trying to be mean but her? She's not even… attractive!? I don't-”
He laughs at you again, shaking his head. “You are a spoiled rich girl, a mean little thing. Because she's not drop dead gorgeous I couldn't want her? Looks mean nothing really, little princess. It's just you who I don't want.”
Your breasts heave up and down, finally a glare on your otherwise sad little pretty face. “I am trying!”
“I don't want you to fucking try, constantly acting like the perfect wife. I don't want it. Don't want you, how clear can I fucking make it!?”
You step up to him then, tilting your head to look up at the tall, cruel man, lipstick on his fucking neck, smirking at you. “Well maybe I don't want YOU, but I fucking TRY.”
“Oh. You want me,” he tilts your chin up, grinning at you, feeling your skin hot to the touch. “Bet you're so desperate you'd lick her pussy off me. Wouldn't you? For a chance.”
“I would never,” you shake your head. “Fine, you win. I won't try anymore.”
“Good. It's for your own best interest,” he pats your cheek and smiles. “What's on your plans today, hmm little perfect wife?”
“Not making dinner.” he smirks at you again. “Not trying for you ever again.”
You rush out of the door, dejected, shoulders slumped, when you look back at him though?
That look.
Heartbroken, devastated, done for. Like you just lost all your goddamn will to live.
That one hurts.
Satoru was not cruel before you. Sure he was a dick, he played a lot, he was conceited, but to make you give up trying made him have to push you away. If even fucking in front of you didn't he had to push it further, and he thinks that's the moment you gave up on him.
It's for your own best interest to end this when he can, to be strangers.
Your eyes are burned in his brain as he opens your dumb bento box, and sees these pretty little Sushi. Shaped like little hearts with pink paper instead of the traditional.
He swallows down his guilt when he sees them laid out with a cup of soup, rice, a drink even. And a little note on pink paper.
He hates himself more when he opens it.
Gojo, I know you don't want me, don't want this, but if we could just try… I think there could be something, truly. When we kissed I did feel it, somewhere buried under the surface.
I know I'm not who you chose, or who you want, but I hope one day we could grow to like each other. I am trying my hardest and I just hope that it can be enough.
Have a great day at work, I will see you at home.
Tears slip onto the note, bleeding the ink through the paper, he looks at the shut door you'd walked out of, remembering your eyes..they'd always fucking haunt him. That look of defeat written all over them.
You were bringing him lunch and love notes when he was letting a secretary ride his cock.
“Mr. Gojo?” his assistant opens his door, and he pauses, looking up at her. “You have a two a clock.”
“Right…” He just stares at the sushi, at the note, before shutting his eyes, swiping off tears he hasn't cried since he was a little kid.
That night, no dinner is made by you. No it's the chefs as it should always be, but it's a sign, as is you not in that dining room waiting for him. He walks around the mansion, looking for you, for any sign that you're in his home.
Why does he care?
He hears your sobs from the room you are supposed to share, and rests his door on it.
Why did you have to try so hard, when he told you not to?
“He will never w-want me…” You're sobbing and hiccuping. “Never enough.”
He swallows down his own self loathing, resting his head on the door, wondering at just who he is. Is this Satoru Gojo, or is this Satoru Gojo trying to be anything else but what he's always been pushed into?
He walks off to his own room, shutting the door. He'd have to end this marriage soon as he can, in whatever way that meant – to get you the fuck away from him. You may hate him for it, but at least you'd have a little bit of a choice in your life.
*****
You
You come home from an event with Satoru, a press junket where you have to act like a happy newlywed. And you do just that, you play your role, giggling with his hand on your waist, the most contact you've had since that kiss – the one where he felt nothing for you. The one that you felt shaken from, suddenly fucking delusional, in spite of the fact of one thing.
Satoru Gojo made sure to let you know there was no chance, he didn’t mince words, didn’t lead you on, it was your own hope that made you keep trying that first month, that hope that even after seeing him with his dick inside a woman, maybe he’d feel anything. Fuck, he made sure to cum before she got off of him, didn’t even stop mid fuck.
That’s how unimportant you were.
Yet even then you tried, until he made that disgusting comment – licking another woman off him? Calling you pathetic?
Well, you were.
You were not going to be cruel to him despite the rage in your heart, however, you just no longer try, it’s quiet when you take off your heels at the door, and he slips off his dress shoes. You both say nothing, but you feel his eyes on you at times, as if he expects some word out of your mouth.
You no longer say good morning, good night, you just live your life with Satoru for another month like this, he’ll have a girl over in his room, but you keep to yourself, living so alone… yet, with him.
Your few friends you have get worried for you, every time you get to see them over the next couple months you look more tired, you don’t look like you’re eating, you have dark circles under your eyes, the eyes that don’t glimmer any longer. They share their concerns quietly, over a nice brunch, but you act like everything is just fine.
Tonight your mother had pulled you aside, making sure to dissect your looks to a fault, including said dark circles – As if you didn’t have enough insecurities just being married to Satoru Gojo, a man who’d fuck anyone but you.
“You have to keep yourself together, look he’s all over those women,” she whispers, you would laugh but you know better, the woman who beat submission into your head was right here. You just look down, nodding.
“He always is.”
“So you need to get his attention,” you sigh, wanting to explain how hard you tried, even in lieu of him fucking that secretary in front of you, but you merely nod once more. “Get yourself together, you look like you haven’t slept in a week, your hair is oily even. What’s wrong with you!?”
What’s wrong with you?
You peer over to your tall, white haired husband surrounded by women in the ridiculously extravagant event, glamorously dressed when you chose a thin silk number, not caring anymore. You didn’t do your makeup, what did that matter? It’s not as if he’d ever look at you anyway.
“You’ll make him look bad, make us all look bad, you must gather yourself together and try more. Have I not raised you to be the perfect wife?”
The perfect wife.
To a husband who hates you.
“You did indeed Mother,” you manage to say, clearing your throat that night, feeling the eyes of so many curiously flit between you both. “I shall try not to disappoint you and father.”
Yet you are done trying, as he asked you to be, walking up the stairs now with him slowly trailing behind, as if to make sure there was enough space between the both of you.
Try a gym!
Or a spa day?
You need self care babe!
Yeah, your friends advice about self care was not enough for what you’re going through, but they ring in your head, as you head to your room, and reach around to try to unzip your dress. You curse, moving your hand in every which way, you then try to tug it up off you, but it’s half stuck with the tight material.
Fuck, you’re gonna have to ask him.
“Gojo…” You say, standing by his door, he’s up typing away on the laptop, shirtless, his body cut and chisled, muscles moving as he sits up straighter, eyeing you carefully.
“You, coming to my room?” You flush furiously, looking down.
“Don’t worry, I’ll never, ever ask to be intimate again,” you whisper, the pain still piercing your heart, your soul. He just looks down. “I just really can’t get out of this dress, and I swear to god it’s not a hit on or seduction.”
“Ah,” he doesn’t gloat like usual, standing up now, his sweats falling down his hips, you wish he didn’t look so good like that, coming up to you carefully, everything flexing as he walks. “Zipper stuck?”
“I think so, and it won’t go up over my damn hips,” you grumble, when he comes closer. “I’m sorry.”
“You apologize constantly,” you just nod again. “Turn around.”
You do that, lifting your hair off the nape of your neck for him, two of his fingers grasp the metal zipper, slipping it down achingly slow, the noise loud in his quiet room, mixing with his own catch of breath. It’s quiet, a few tendrils falling against the nape of your neck, as the zipper jams just a bit, stuck in the middle.
“Hang on…” He mumbles, clearly irritated, holding the dress tight together and then grasping it, jerking you just a bit as he finally gets it down. “There.”
“Thank you, Gojo,” you say softly, as he looks at the smooth expanse of your back, and for a moment neither of you move, you turn to face him, still holding your hair up. “I didn’t mean to bug you.”
He doesn’t say anything, knuckles brushing down your spine lightly, enough to make you ache in your core, something you’ve never really felt before this moment. You swallow nervously, blushing and looking away, you can’t make a fucking fool out of yourself again.
You will not push something he clearly doesn’t want, it’s just not right – even in the name of ‘marriage’ it should be Satoru’s choice too, and he so clearly would never choose you, in any world. You turn now, straps slipping down your shoulders, his bright blue eyes get dark and lidded when his gaze hits your tits, the tops of them showcased with the little dress half off.
“I’ll let you um… sleep.” You say, he just blinks a moment, clearing his throat now.
“Yeah.”
You slowly walk out, wondering if it is just you looking for something, anything, the way you damn near begged him to notice you, to want you, it was as he said – pathetic. Even knowing he’s fucking women actively, that he doesn’t have the time of day for you at all, you still crave it, you still don’t retaliate.
His phone rings, and you hear him murmuring while you’re in the hallway –
Hey sweets, hmm… I bet you do miss me.
You feel your feet get heavy, you’ve been barely eating because you’re just fucking miserable, but hearing that as his door shuts and you walk to your lonely room sinks in. The miserable realization that he doesn’t care about you, that even if he gave you a glance, it was nothing, you were nothing to him.
You slip that dress off when you’re in your bedroom, looking at yourself in the mirror, even just his proximity always put a blush to your cheeks, as if your body was betraying your mind. You remember what your friends told you the other day, their concerned gazes, and the way they tried to be supportive when they barely know the half of what you endure.
Having to hear your husband jerking it on the phone and talking another girl through it when he has never touched you?
You are tired of crying, so tired.
You look up gyms in the area, sure that’s not really going to help a damn thing, but it might be enough to keep you busy, considering you can’t even work as a Gojo wife, and you’re left alone too often in the quiet, thinking too much. You pick one and map it, while laying in your bed and snuggling, yawning a bit as sleep starts to drag you under.
“All right, let’s see if self care will help me at all,” you say to yourself quietly, drifting off into a dreamless sleep, as you have been.
What’s there to dream about anymore?
*****
Sukuna
His knuckles are aching from hitting the big heavy black bag, punching it over and over, his class is done but Sukuna always loves to blow some steam off, and the best way is to beat the bag to a pulp. His ruby eyes are locked on the target, exhaling and controlling his breathing.
One, two.
One, two, punch.
Cross, jab, hook.
It’s methodical, it’s easy, even as his muscles ache – that ache is sweet, it’s so perfect to feel, he grins as he imagines beating the fuck out of so many people then. Start with his shit father – his mother gets a pass only due to being a woman – and then, all the little pretentious shits he went to college with.
Sukuna was supposed to be training to become a CEO, to take over his father’s position, and be a nepo baby like the rest of those damn men he partied with at the frat in college. Yet, he never, ever wanted that, and he built something for himself – several gyms, he’s trained pro boxers, national champions.
This was what Sukuna wanted to do.
Mostly, he loved to box, he cared just a little bit enough not to join those matches himself – oh, what would that look like!? The Sukuna heir going into a boxing ring!? Yet, at the same time, he had dreams of it. Of being in a ring and knocking everyone out, pushing that ‘family disappointment’ name even further.
For now, however, there is peace in the quiet gym.
That is, until you walk in.
Tired and fucking beautiful, these dark circles that sit under your eyes, a shy little nervous smile, about five minutes before he closes. You stand at the door and look around, frowning then and staring at your phone, wearing some pretty little yoga outfit and a big sweater, like you were getting ready for pilates rather than kickboxing.
“I’m sorry, first off for coming so late, second… ugh I thought you were a regular gym! Where is my brain…” You smack your forehead, turning, when he literally runs up to you, stopping you before fully thinking of it.
Sukuna, running.
You really are that pretty, when he sees a giant rock on your finger he curses internally, sighing.
“I do other things here, a whole room of workout machinery,” he says then, his voice just a little gruff, when you turn and look up at him, so shy, you look right back down at your feet, hugging yourself a bit. “I can show you, just need to lock up.”
“You probably want to get home, god I’m sorry, I slept all day like a miserable… oh… so sorry.” You have said sorry again, rambling now, making Sukuna wonder.
Just who has you this down? This shy? This clearly hurt?
“I meant to come earlier,” you blink back tears, looking up again with them swimming in your pretty eyes, so pretty he can’t decide what color they are, but the way they look at him almost takes him out. “I set an alarm, and promised I would make myself do something, then I just… hit it over and over. And now I’m rambling.”
“And crying,” he smirks a bit, swiping off a tear. “Rambling, crying, coming in late too, huh?”
“I know I’m so-”
“I’m teasing,” he chuckles softly, shaking his head and tilting your chin up. “If you want to do any sport, you need eye contact. Even when they’re all red and bloodshot.”
“Well your eyes are red too! I mean, oh my god!?” You cover your mouth, he laughs again softer this time. “I’m sorry, I like their color, they’re beautiful. Not to say I am hitting on you! Oh dear god…”
“Will you take a breath?” You shut your eyes, nodding. “A deep one, in… there you go, and out.”
Your breasts rise and fall, the sweater slipping further off a shoulder, as he takes in the mess that’s come to his doorstep – a beautiful, tragically broken mess that does something he can’t explain. When you swipe your cheeks and try to give a tremulous smile, you break whatever heart Sukuna has in his chest.
Who fucking hurt you like this?
Damage recognizes damage, but this…
“Don’t apologize a fourth time, yeah?” You nod then, sniffling a bit and attempting a better smile.
“I really just want to… apparently I need self care, my friends say, and I thought a gym might… help. But I can’t box, or kickbox.”
“Why not? You've got a lot of pent up tension," his hands brush down your shoulders softly, feeling the tenseness. "Bet you’d kill it."
"Me!?" You giggled nervously but he was serious, a huge handsome man crossing his arms and raising a brow, leaned back a bit in the quietness of his gym. "Kickboxing, huh?"
"Think you can't?"
You shake your head, and he sees it all over your face –
You don’t think you can do anything.
“Why not? Husband wants you all girlie or something?” He addresses the ring with a glance, you laugh without humor, your face darkening then.
“He doesn’t give a shit what I do, no, we’re not,” you trail off, shaking your head. “I dumped enough trauma on you just walking in here. What’s your name?”
“Sukuna,” he takes your hand, feeling yours just a little sweaty in his grip. “What do you mean doesn’t give a shit?”
“He doesn’t like me.” He blinks at that.
“Trouble in paradise?”
You laugh again, shaking your head. “Let’s say he’s done more with his secretary than me so far,” Sukuna frowns at that, raising a dark brow. “It’s okay, really don’t feel bad for me. I just need something to get my mind off it.”
Who the fuck wouldn’t want you?
He almost says it, but he holds back, nudging his head now. “Lemme show you around the gym.”
He locks the door behind you so no random people try to come after hours, and you follow him through, looking up at the ceiling – it’s high, wooden beams running across it, it was once an old factory before Sukuna bought it off the guy. The walls are all red and orange brick, some of it is painted white, with graffiti art.
“That’s so cool,” you murmur, walking up to it then, touching it gently. “What is all of this?”
“Some of the guys like to come tag it,” he says, there are all sorts of images scrawled, along with Sukuna’s name in big red letters, little demon horns over the U. “I think they’re callin’ me the devil.”
“No!” You laugh, the sound so foreign to your own ears, he can just tell when you sober up a bit, smiling gently now. “You, the devil?”
“Mmm, you don’t know shit about me yet,” you blush a bit at the insinuation. “You’d run out if you knew what I was thinking.”
“You don’t have to be so… nice to me, okay? Because you feel bad.”
Sukuna blinks his pink lashes. “Huh?”
“I can tell, you’re a really good person,” you walk up to him, touching his hand now, sucking in a breath at the contact, fingers tracing his calloused, beat up knuckles. “Thank you though.”
“You think I’m pretending to find you attractive?” He almost can’t take you serious, but your face says it all. “Yeah, no, I’m not that nice. Now follow me before I say something real fucking dumb.”
You’re a flustered mess, letting your hand fall and nodding.
“This is where you’d like to be,” he mentions, toward the room with all of the normal equipment – treadmills, ellipticals, rowing machines, all sleek and black. “So you can just do your normal little workouts. Yoga mats and all.”
“Oh! I see,” you’re just a step behind him, he can inhale that perfume, he doesn’t know what scent it is but it’s driving him insane, when he stops and you bump into him. “Ah!”
He catches you quickly, frowning a bit at how weak you seem, assessing you. “You eat anything today?”
You blink a bit.
How'd he notice?
“No.”
“It’s six?”
“Yeah, not for a couple days,” you mumble. Sukuna glares at you, far, far too attractive and you’re not even fucking eating.
“If you have some… problem, you gotta tell me if I’m gonna train you, yeah?”
“No, nothing like that, just can’t eat when I’m sad,” your words are soft, barely over a whisper, running your fingers along the arm of a treadmill. “It’s been a few days I guess.”
“A few days, the fuck?” What sort of husband lets his wife just not eat?
He supposes the kind that makes her an unconfident, sad girl that cries the moment she enters a gym. Sukuna knows damn well he shouldn’t get involved in the shit, but just looking at you hurts him, in a way he’s not sure he’s felt, recognizing a version of himself so long ago, when he was young, when he wanted that approval, when he craved it so badly.
But more than that.
“If you don’t eat tomorrow I’ll be shoving food in your mouth,” you laugh at that, covering your mouth again. “I’m serious, the fuck you mean days?”
“I will make myself eat before I come.”
“And you’ll come at a decent time, yeah? Not before I close. Do I need to set three alarms to get your bratty ass up?”
“Bratty!?” you laugh again, shaking your head, the sight so fucking cute it destroys him.
God he’d drop to his knees just to kiss up those thighs, fucking lick you right over those leggings, the ones just a little snug against your puffy lips. And he can tell when you’re close how excited you are, the way your pupils blow out, the way you bite down on that lower lip, the one already chapped from likely biting it to death.
“No one has ever called me bratty,” you muse softly. “The opposite, actually.”
“Well maybe they don’t see it buried all in there, under a cute little fucking yoga outfit,” he brushes your hair back. His mistake, his undoing, and not kissing you is maybe the hardest thing he’s done.
You’re married.
He’s trying to give a fuck about that.
“C’mon brat,” you giggle again. “Here is the ring.”
You pause, looking at the huge rectangular boxing ring, surrounded by mats, boxing bags hanging heavy and worn all over, red and black ropes surrounding it. “Is this where you all practice?”
“Mhm,” he leads you over to a bag, touching it, old and black and hanging, one of his big hands touching it now. “Tomorrow you’ll punch it, today you didn’t eat so you don’t get to.”
“Mean,” your lips twitch though, the color to your face just brighter, your eyes glittering. Fuck you’re pretty sad, and happy, he can only imagine more. “All right, I promise, full breakfast.”
“Eat some dinner, too, then I’ll let you kick it.”
“The bag?”
“No, me.”
“What!?” You laugh again, Sukuna snorts and rolls his ruby red eyes, those pink lashes fluttering. “You’re joking, oh!”
“Yeah, a joke,” he tugs on that pony tail your hair is thrown in. “Two pm, don’t be late.”
When you’re gone he’s locking up, watching you slip into some bmw, waving a bit before you back up, wondering what’s this feeling in his heart, in his gut.
Sukuna loves women, he loves being inside them, pleasuring them, but he’s never just enjoyed making someone smile that much. Knowing you’re married should be a hell of a deterrent, whether he’s clearly a dick or not, Sukuna can’t just swoop in and be with married women.
Right?
Yet when he’s in bed that night, he finds himself throbbing, thinking of seeing your pretty face in pleasure. And he knows damn well whatever ‘morals’ he should have about it aren’t going to help him not make you feel good, in just any fucking way you need him to.
*****
You
“Never seen you eat so much,” Satoru murmurs when he walks in, lipstick across his neck, you’re downing some soup, realizing just how starved you were. “Have the chefs make something.”
“I just haven’t eaten in a week,” you say softly, Satoru’s eyes widen, then narrow a bit, while you dab at your mouth with a napkin. “I guess I’m hungry.”
“A week? What nothing here good, they can order anything.”
“I was too depressed,” the honesty is something you’d usually hold in, but something about meeting Sukuna today…
Everything about him.
The way he looked at you, that smirk was teasing, not cruel – he listened to you, he seemed to care, him a stranger. You know it’s nonsense, a man trying to be kind to a crying woman, but it meant a lot, even if that’s all it was. You’d walked in with a smile you haven’t had since you married him.
Satoru Gojo.
“A week? You can die from that shit,” he glares now, and you laugh, but this time it’s a mean little sound. “You think you can’t?”
“Sure, but what would you care?” You take a sip of the wine you’d poured, Satoru’s finest vintage, letting it dance along your tongue. “Wouldn’t it make your life easier if I did?”
His lips part, brows drawing together. “I don’t want you to fucking die, okay? Fuck.”
“You wouldn’t care,” you swirl the wine around, leaning back in the seat, eyes locked with the man you’ve tried so hard to make like you. To just come near you, to give you a chance. “I’m nothing to you.”
He says nothing in the quiet of the dining room.
“You didn’t notice.”
“Well, no I don’t eye your every move, figured you eat before I get home or some shit,” he runs a hand through his silky white locks, eyeing you carefully. “Do you want them to order something specific? Just because me and you will never be anything, doesn’t mean I want you to starve in my fucking house.”
“Nah, I like everything they have here,” you finish the wine in a gulp, an unladylike one that makes Satoru raise his brows, standing then, sighing. “It’s hard to eat when you can’t stop crying, when you constantly feel sick to your stomach knowing the man you live with hates your existence.”
You walk up and he says your name, you pause and look back at him. “I never said don’t eat, yeah?”
“No, you didn’t. But her lipstick is all over your neck, and up on that collar,” he touches it then, looking at the crimson on his pale fingertips. You step up to him, so close you inhale that scent. “Can you buy your sluts some decent fucking perfume, aren’t you rich?”
“What the fuck!?” You smile, you’ve never cussed, but it feels amazing in that moment, seeing him sputter. “What are you going on about, and what’s got your ass so fucking peppy?”
“Their knock off perfume, it’s all over you, every night. Buy them some Chanel or something, yeah? Not like you have to buy me anything, I have my own money. The scent makes me nauseous,” you turn again, Satoru grips your wrist, making you pause for just a moment, shutting your eyes.
Nothing, he feels nothing.
“Thought you didn’t cuss?”
“You don’t know me and you don’t want to.”
He lets you go, no argument, just quiet.
“I’m starting training at the gym,” you mention quietly. “I’ll be going there tomorrow.”
“Some yoga class?”
“Boxing.”
Satoru blinks, you just smile, tugging your wrist out of his grip. “You? Boxing?”
“Mhm, good night Gojo.”
You head up the stairs to your room, falling back on the bed, shutting your eyes, feeling good for the first time since that engagement party, for the first time in months there was something brimming under the surface. Some sort of hope.
Tonight you don’t hear him moaning, or talking to his girls, it’s quiet, and you’re thankful, shutting your eyes and falling into a deep sleep.
You’re haunted by two sets of eyes, two sets of hands, blue ones that are glaring, red ones that are hungry, long thin fingers choking your neck, suffocating you, thick ones painted black freeing you. Torn between them, claustrophobic in the darkness, where all you can see are their eyes.
You wake up in the middle of the night, drenched in sweat, holding your racing heart, thrumming against your palm, before you fall back asleep, and there is only one pair of eyes.
And they’re red.
Tysm AGAIN for 30k my loves <3 this will be a doozy
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