Pairings. [SEPARATE] Higuruma x Reader, Gojo x Reader, Ino x Reader, Sukuna x Reader, Choso x Reader, Geto x Reader, Nanami x Reader, Toji x Reader
Content. MDNI, fem!reader, making him cúm dry, making him WHlMPER, p sIapping, spítting, chokíng, headIocks, challenges, DlLF!Toji (well he already is), Avatar AU (for Geto), Fire-bending master!Geto, use of powers, true form!Sukuna, Heian era, DP, Sukuna’s second mouth, overstím, squírting, slight dry-húmping, they’re GONE, GOJO’S POWERS, Shinjuku Showdown FR, ìnappropriate use of cursed techniques, unIimited void, he’s feraI, slight pIots, matíng presses, fuII neIsons, manhandIing, pussydrunk JJK men, sIight bóndage (Higuruma), creampìes, cúmpIay, slight cúmfIation, pet names, swéaring.
A/N. ALRIIIIIIIGHT I heard you babygirls ab Zuko okay?! And he just kept remindig me of Sugu so…
♡ TOJI FUSHIGURO - 6 rounds.
Your neighbor Toji has been eyeing you for a while.
Of course—one could argue that that was simply due to the structure of this place. It was one of those shoebox apartments; deceptively smaller-looking on the outside, with a pitiful few sprigs of a garden and an elevator that never worked. The only thing the exterior got correct was just how…intimate you’d be with your next-door neighbor.
And you knew all too well.
When you first moved, you’d walked the few steps it took to knock on your neighbor’s door - Fushiguro, the nameplate said - and you were met with…the most attractive man you’ve ever seen.
Off-color undershirt. Tall stature.
A body that could’ve been handcrafted by the gods themselves as he lifted a muscular arm up to grasp the door frame. “Tch. Whatever you’re selling, we’re not buying.”
But you weren’t put off - because you’ve been eyeing Toji, too.
And the moment you saw him, you’ve been wanting to ride that man dry.
But perhaps that was too much for an introduction to your next-door neighbor, no? That was probably more of a second meeting thing- hah. And so you’d hastened to explain that you were actually the new tenant, handing over the bundle of cookies that you’d baked for the residents you were close to.
And Toji had looked at the cookies, and at you….and at the cookies…and at you- before ultimately sticking his head outside and glancing down the hallway - as if to make sure that this really wasn’t some superior marketing tactic.
And yes, he really had just gotten free cookies.
Finally, he raised a dark brow at you and smiled - or at least what you imagined was a semblance of a smile. Just the slightest quirk of his scarred lips. “Heh…we’ll get along. Nice to meetcha, I’m Fushiguro Toji.”
And just then, Fushiguro Megumi had made an entrance at the wafting smell of freshly-baked treats. Immediately tugging the bag out of the man’s hands and taking it for himself-
You promised Toji that you’d make another batch for him.
And so you did. And so you baked, you accompanied Toji shopping, you helped him move away from giving poor Megs instant ramen for dinner all the time—you even got to bake in their kitchen when your oven once broke down.
Thus. After a few months, Saturday nights often looked like an amalgamation of both your previous routines; with you ignoring your manager’s overtime phone calls to put on your favorite show and indulge in some selfcare. Toji with his pen out and his eyes squinting at the latest jockey racing results- dammit, Haru Urara lost again.
Down the hall, Megumi was fast asleep.
All in his apartment.
You can’t remember the last time you’d wound down in your own- but before you can consider what that meant…Toji’s throwing his pen down. He heaves himself up from the brightly-lit dining table to sit down beside you—gaze narrowing at the half-shitty soap opera you’d put on to pass the time. “What…the hell is that?”
“A show.” You retort.
“I get that- hah, you think m’stupid?” Toji rolls his sage green eyes. And before you can reply with something smart, he’s gesturing half-heartedly at the screen before him. “I mean- why the hell is there so much…crying and moaning.”
Your gaze snaps to the quickly-shifting scenes on-screen, “That is, uh…” In the few seconds you’d looked away to scour Toji’s library for a book that wasn’t a sports magazine or a Haru Urara fanbook, it seems the plotline on the TV had taken…a far more different route. “Sex.”
“You think I fucking don’t know what’s-” As you’re laughing your head off, Toji cuts himself off and pinches the top of his nosebridge. Surely to ward off his oncoming headache.
You always did do that to him. In the best way.
And after a deep breath, he gestures idly at the screen once more. Or more specifically: the way the love interest’s eyes widen in shock, mouth dropping as he looks between where they were connected. He’s saying something that makes you still, “Why is he talking about…cumming dry? There’s no way that’s fuckin’ real.”
“It is?” You’re peering at him in confusion. “It literally is?”
Toji crosses his beefy arms, “No way.”
“You’re going to argue with science, Toji?”
“M’just saying- it’s never happened to me.” He retorts.
And the words are out of your mouth before you can stop them- “…Is that a challenge?” You regret them as soon as they’re entering the tense air, making the older man stiffen beside you—
And you’re just about to apologize and bow yourself out of the awkwardness when-
“Oh you can fucking try.”
It’s how you find yourself being guided to Toji’s single bedroom - no matter how many times you’ve been in his apartment, you’ve strayed far from here - and sprawled out on his vast mattress. Legs straddling his hips. Hands braced on his pecs.
You’re grabbing a nice feeling of them and it makes the beefy man groan. He’s peering up at you through his jet-black bangs, only half-covering his smoldering gaze. “So…? I’m fucking hot, yeah, but you’re just gonna stand there ogling me or…”
“So humble, too.” You scoff.
And then you’re fiddling with the drawstrings of his sweatpants to take his thiiiiick, reddened tip in a single swoop - or at least try to. He grins, “Yeah. And don’t forget big.”
.
.
.
Toji Fushiguro fucks you - or it’s more like you’re on top n’ bouncing your hips down onto him - so that you won’t forget it.
So that you’re feeling the lil’ twinge of pressure between your legs once you’re walking out of this damn room, so that you’re feeling the remnants of his cum glued creamily to your pussy. It better feel empty without him in there - and Toji has one palm of his pressed up against your gaping mouth, so that you won’t wake Megumi.
And the other one of his was latched your left hip.
Gripping lovingly onto the flesh there and lurching your hips up and down—faster and faster. Moving. Manhandling. Because with just a few strokes of his sheer girth, you’re seemingly dickmatized.
And leaving it aaaaaall up to Toji to guide n’ prod.
To angle your hips in figure-eights so that he can feel his cum swirling inside. Stirring it with his glistening cock. “Atta girl.” Toji gruffs out at the feeling of being utterly slathered by your walls. “And what was that about cumming dry? Hah- because m’still rock-hard and the only one having trouble here is you—”
“You’re trouble.” You huff.
“Not what I said.” He snickers. Before his handsome face leans upwards and licks off a stray tear dangling from your cheek, “But you’re lucky you’re- hck! cute. And how many rounds was that, huh, doll?”
“Six.”
“Good. And how many rounds have I cum dry?”
“Zero…” Huffing at the smug look on his face- oh, how you wanted to wipe that off. Oh, how you wanted to make him eat his words—and perhaps without even realizing it, you’re jerking your hips stubbornly back and forth.
It wasn’t matching up to the controlled place that he was slammin’ away at the back of your cervix- but it sure was something.
Your velvety walls were utterly drenched in Toji’s hot cum by now - and that just made it so much easier for you to ground your feet into the mattress n’ take him. All of him. All of those crude, curved inches of him that opened you up perfectly—“B-but don’t think that you’re gonna get off that easily.”
“Oh yeah?” A moan hatches at the back of his throat- botched exhales. “And what’s different about this time, huh?”
“This time-” Fuck, Toji’s grin spreads in a feline way across his face. He was looking at you through half-lidded eyes, vision just a little blurred from pleasure, and there was an almost…wolfish hunger in them that makes you answer- “This time I don’t have enough space.”
And that makes one of his brows raise, “Hah?”
“I said it.” To emphasize your point, you’re parting your thighs just a little—almost difficult with the way his sap had them glued together. The milky-white ribbons of Toji’s cum leakin’ out of your poor pussy, so much of it that it’s dripping down and making his black curls there glisten. “Look…”
Toji’s pants slightly quicken at the sinful sight.
“Next time, you better not cum so much again- or else s’not gonna fit.”
Scoffing, he runs a thumb freely between your pussylips- and pushes in a few of the escaping wads. “And what if I just…make it fit.” Along with the fat edge of his thumb. “Juuuust like this.”
You’re wracking with shivers at the sudden intrusion, “What- cock so sensitive you can’t stop cumming?” Though you really liked it - with how much he was flooding your cunt every time - and he knew it, too.
“Pussy so whiny she can’t handle one more?”
“You wish.”
And that’s earning you a good spankin’ on top of your pussylips.
One. Two. Three.
Without pause. Soon, your cunt’s feeling utterly raw in the aftermath—and you’re clinging onto Toji’s firm deltoids for dear life.
But that didn’t mean you were going to back down anytime soon.
No…instead, you’re using the sudden grip to steady your weakened hips. With your two knees squeezing either side of his obliques, and your back arched into a curvature that makes his mouth water - you’re meeting Toji’s sloppy pace. Pushing him back down by the shoulders and taking over the sloppy pace—
Toji’s tipping over onto the pillows now. You’re smack-smack-smacking your hips down onto his at a jackhammerin’ cadence - faster than even he was, perhaps…
And it’s that fact that makes him breathe, “O-oh, okay.” Toji’s unsure where to put his hands- so you’re swiftly taking them into yours and making him puuuuush down on your bloated stomach. The wads of his cum glisten down your thighs, catching the dim lighting of the bedroom. “This is new.” Never has anyone ever tried to take charge of him.
And there was something so hot about it.
Something so irresistible about that determined set of your brow. The way you’re ruined on his cock and attempting to desperately make him even more so. The way you’re squeezing your cunt so tightly around his length—dragging your walls down it. And up. And down.
Your hamstrings ache as you ride. Your pussy’s grabbin’ him all over from the veeeeery crowned top- and then down to his thickened hilt.
Milking him is the only expression he can use to describe the motion.
“New as in…” You’re feeling the smile stretch across your face, milking Toji’s cock was all he was worth. Your hips accelerate. “-going-to-make-you-cum-dry sort of new? Or?”
Another spank- this time, right on your clit. “D-don’t get ahead of yourself.”
Pushing him down from attempting to take control of the pace once more. You’re throwing your head back and riiiding out his erection the way you like it - “M’just saying…you just stuttered.” His breath hitches at your response- “So victory might be closer than I thought.”
“I…”
“Awww. Is the big, bad Toji Fushiguro speechless for once?”
“Oh, fuck you.”
But, truly, he could feel the pressurized build-up at the base of his cock. Starting off small. Starting right above where his balls were twitchin’ and aching - and then moving up, up, uuup every single inch to angrily throb at his tip.
Furious, furious.
It had barely even started yet, and somehow Toji already knew that it was something different from all those orgasms that came before it. And so he’s clenching his eyes shut and gritting his teeth as he feels it overcoming him—
“Fuh-fuck.” He’s out-of-breath just from the first wave. And desperately - pathetically - Toji’s hoping to anything that’d listen that it wasn’t a dry orgasm. He’s pleading. He’s mentally on his knees and begging-
And then…with a sudden buck of his hips Toji’s round, blushin’ cockhead strikes the bottom of your pussy. It’s then that he’s realizing that perhaps manifesting really doesn’t work for some old bastard like him- because he doesn’t even have to feel the contrasting wetness of your cervix to already know.
To realize that though his bliss was searing through his body in waves-
His cock was dribbling out absolutely nothing.
Six rounds and he’d finally lost it.
The rush of his orgasm coursing through him, accompanied by the inexplicable emergence of nothing more. His achingly hot tip can do nothing more than stick deep into your pussy n’ swerve around the bundled-up wads of cum there. Not adding. Not taking.
Horny embarrassment mingles with his broken pride; and Toji clenches his jaw as he peers up at you—you and that damn accomplished smile.
You’re fluttering your lashes innocently down at him- “Yes, Toji? Got anything else to say about cumming dry?”
“No…” He reluctantly admits. Before spitting out -“What else does that TV show have?”
♡ NANAMI KENTO - 10 rounds.
You didn’t expect your husband to be anything but a gentleman.
Who would?
Nanami Kento was the epitome of everything one would want their partner to be; he was sweet, he was patient, he was intelligent in many ways—but most of all, emotionally. He loved you at your best and he loved you when you didn’t feel so - and thus, he was the man that stood before you at the altar.
Donned in a dark hakama. Blond hair slicked back.
Rose-gold ring glistening on one hand.
Stating vows to love one another from here onwards and forevermore; and he’s never meant anything more. Nothing has been truer in his entire life.
The celebrations were uproarious- not from Nanami’s end, but rather from your elated friends. Your new husband sat beside you silently during the reception, making sure you were eating well and that the air conditioning at the venue wasn’t too cold—though when he did get a few beers in him, he kept whispering from a scandalously close proximity how beautiful those robes looked on you…how much better it might look off—
You remember during this time that Shoko had tottered by - held up by weary Utahime - and blessed the two of you ten times over. Ultimately clapping Nanami on the shoulders and telling him to take good care of you.
And to not disappoint you on your wedding night-
But that was around the time that Utahime had decided that your brown-haired friend had taken one too many vodka shots. No chasers.
And she’d dragged her away whilst you and Nanami sat hot-under-the-collar in your seats. Avoiding much eye contact - because surely most could guess what was bound to happen at the end of the reception, the farewell.
And so had come the wedding night.
.
.
.
The two of you had barely made two steps into your five-star wedding suite before the expensive wedding clothes were falling to the floor.
And Nanami’s gotten you pressed into the most delicious full nelson on top of the rose petal-covered mattress. Cock heavy and hard. Those crimson flowers forming a heart underneath your two tangled bodies, and Nanami’s cock echoing the most lewd slurps n’ squelches.
It’d only gotten louder throughout the night- as Nanami swabbed the droplets of his creamy white cum inside you. Just married and he was already stuffing you full—
Four hours and hours. Making you cum through each one.
As a gentleman should, of course.
You think it’s around the tenth or so round when your head’s tipping stupidly backwards - resting against his firm collarbone - as Nanami’s burnished red cocktip rams into your g-spot again. Glued using a few webs of his seed, it’s a carnal sensation that sets your teeth on edge, and the blond-haired man crushes you close—
“Sh-shit…” You’re keening out, voice taking on a shrill pitch. “Kento- oh, ngh—” Barely able to speak through the loooong, thorough thrusts that he was planting inside you. “I n-never knew you could be so…”
Another hard slam! that leaves your ears ringing. And Nanami’s tone husked to almost nothingness as he asks, “Yes, my love—?”
“Rough.” Crying out.
Though they were cries of utter pleasure- of wanting him to continue. Because in the years that you’ve known him, Nanami Kento has never fucked you like this—has never fucked you the way he was hammerin’ mean strokes into you on your wedding night. Harsh plap! after plap! of skin-on-skin.
Of his stinging pink pelvis pushing into yours.
And your husband moves at a carnal pace - muddled brain unable to process anything more - once he feels your limp hips slippin’ out from above him. Covered in a thin layer of sweat and slick leaking like a waterfall between your glossy pussylips. “Sh-shit, Kento, m’gonna…”
“I’ve got you, my love.” Nanami wraps his bulky arms underneath both legs and hauls you upwards.
“Oh…” Your jaw drops, “You’re just moving me so easily.”
He merely chuckles at your cuteness- were you cockdrunk already?
And once you’re in proper position, laid out on top of the toned line of Nanami’s abdomen, he gently removes his arms. You’re almost disappointed at the massage of his flexing muscles- but before you can miss him too much, your newly-wed husband has them latched onto you again.
This time, in a headlock.
Left arm looped around your pretty throat.
Right arm slithered between your legs and squeezing your clit immediately.
You buck up at the sudden burst of pleasure- stars behind your eyes. Moans ready at the tip of your tongue—
“Shhhh shh shh, I wouldn’t want whoever’s next door to hear my- haaaah, beautiful wife’s sounds. I’m a protective man, darling.” He murmurs throatily behind you, “Unless it’s that new last name of yours.”
So gone by the way his round, throbbing tip was bulldozing into you until your toes curled- “N-new last name…?” It’s taking you a little while to register it.
But Nanami Kento always was a patient man, wasn’t he? And so he’s simply nodding, leaning down and spittin’ straight between your pretty lips to claim that mouth as his own- and his as yours. Of course. “Your last name.” He responds. “Mrs. Nanami.”
The mere sound of it is enough to make you shudder—“Oh.”
“Or…your last name is mine, too.” Nanami hums to himself- now so utterly gone on the idea of it all. Of marriage. Of the fact that you’re his wife - his wife. He tightens his headlock and kisses your temple gently, “It’s actually why m’a little more…rough, today, my love. You’ll have to forgive me.”
“I l-like it.” You’re replying, “And this is all because of- hngh, our wedding night, Kento?”
“Not quite.”
And you’re feeling cum glue to your cervix as you’re bucking downwards- but of course, your husband would never keep you waiting long. With a simple kiss to that wedding ring you were wearing, he raises your left hand up, up, upwards—to grip at his golden tresses. You’re going to need it.
Because in the next few seconds, Nanami then plants his feet further flatly on the mattress and drills his cock up into you. Tunneling. Mazing. Bashing his ruddied tip against every sweet spot.
He was fucking you like he hated you - and the creaking bedsprings would agree - but oh, how he loved you so.
The sheer amount of pleasure that courses through you was almost numbing.
And without further ado, you’re babbling out the sweetest whimpers n’ whines of his name. Nanami’s breath fanning your face hotly as he leans in and whispers—“It’s because you’re my wife.”
Lightning strikes you to your very core.
You could feel your high imposing.
Nanami’s honed canines nip at your earlobes, “It’s the same but not-” He continues, throat growing more n’ more ragged with grunts, the more the thrusted inside. “It’s what I’ve been dreaming for this entire time- fuck, but it’s…so…so much better.” Voice shattering at this very moment. “Darling, it’s like I can’t stop.”
And he fully meant it.
You’re clawing at the beefy expanse of his forearms as he accelerates, your high starting to shoot and crackle with no end-
“I’ve tried.” Nanami’s voice sounds hollow, echoing with something far more primal than you’ve ever heard of him. And hit thrusts- oh, his strikes were so toe-curling. “I’ve tried—but I just can’t seem to. I’ve told myself, I’ve made myself…” The most sinful squelch! wrenches from your pussy as he rolls over your clit and makes you cum once more, “But no matter how hard I try…I just can’t seem to stop wanting to cum inside my wife’s pussy.”
“K-Kento—” Your back arches- lights flashing behind your eyes. “Inside- please.”
“That’s exactly the problem.” He sounds like a man maddened. “I need to see this pussy drippin’ wet with my cum.” You’re shivering as he runs the flatness of his thumb between your cunt’s folds, just so sensitive that the barest graze leaves electricity zapping through your body. “Nine time- nine fucking times-” He rarely swore. “-and I still feel the urge to watch her try to gulp me up. To watch her overspill. To feel her soppin’ wet right down to the womb—”
Breathless with need. “Then do it, husband…”
“I can’t help myself.”
And then Nanami’s cumming.
Like he’d always planned to, of course. But the only problem was that this time - the tenth - he’s feeling nothing but the smallest trickle of cum. Just the faintest few ounces.
And then nothing more- although it feels like he’s still pouring out as much as it takes to flood you.
It hits him instantly that he’s cumming dry.
And Nanami’s mouth drops, blond lashes fluttering just a bit as he takes in the situation. No matter how many times he was draaagging his vein-covered cock in and out of your channel, it only left him as dry and overstimulated as ever.
Tears pricking behind his eyes, Nanami gasps. “This feels like a-a premonition…”
“Of?” You blink.
“The fact that this night’s not over yet.”
♡ GETO SUGURU - 8 rounds.
“Please- ngh—” The sound that leaves you is far too pitiful for your reputation. How could you have ever thought…“P-please, I beg of you-”
“Oh? You beg of me, hm?” Geto’s words were just dripping with amusement, and his smile presses up against your throat. Clammy. Pulse thundering. That beautiful long hair of his was completely untied and falling over the sides of your body, strands tickling down your arched back- it was like a cloak of night. And so was the firebending master.
You’re throwing your head back and keening—“More.”
“You beg more of your enemy?”
What treason. What treachery.
How did you even get here?
You could blame all the training; all the long nights and the countless days spent by the water, the feeling of power rippling through your body as you mastered it. It was no secret that the Fire Nation and the Water Nation were at war.
These were the days that would end up as history, after all.
But you just wondered whether this battle would…between one of the best of the Water Nation - you - and the Fire Prince himself. Geto Suguru.
Announced as next-in-line to the throne. The man your age with a fear-striking reputation that ran far and deep. And treacherous.
It was a siege planned by the group of rebels you were a part of, and it was simple: attack the Fire Nation’s Royal Palace and end their bloodline once and for all. And for that, you’d have to take care of the prince himself.
Little did you know that what had begun as a one-on-one fight between the two of you at highly close quarters would turn into something….else entirely. As you’d straddled him during combat and prepared to call upon your powers - chest heaving, eyes locked - you had no idea who leaned in first. You had no idea which one of you was the first traitor.
And so here you were…
Knees digging into the hard floor of the Fire Nation’s Imperial Dojo, mouth slobberin’ out lungfuls of moans. Your head throwing backwards and hitting the prominent collarbones of none other than your sworn enemy—Geto Suguru.
Who was fucking his hard, red-hot cock into you like he hated you.
And he probably did.
And yet…and yet- he can’t stop himself from lunging his needy hips forwards and slamming French kisses into the back of your cervix. Those nice, gooey depths that welcomed him with such fervour it almost made him laugh. But despite how bemusing it might be, Geto knows he should stop. He knows he needs to adhere to his duties…but here he was again.
And again and again.
Runnin’ on his seventh round, where he’s ruggedly pulling his vein-covered cock in and out of you. He fucked mean. And he was only getting meaner as he cranes his neck forwards, digging his pearly white canines into the crook of your neck.
Harder and harder.
“N-ngh…” It’s just barely-there. Sneakily, Geto muffles that broken noise emanating from the back of his throat - meanwhile, you’re left moaning once his hot sap starts to fill your cunt up once more.
Just the cutest few drops - drooling - before he immediately pulls out and sprays those satiny ribbons down your outer pussy. Coating a few milky-white layers on top, he then rubs his swollen n’ sap-glossed tip uuuuup and down your pussylips; a few times before plunging back in again. “M-more…”
It’s so quiet and pitchy that he barely hears it. But Geto Suguru wasn’t the nation’s fiercest warrior for nothing- “Pardon?” Those amethyst eyes of his widen at your request. It took a lot to surprise the Fire Prince, but now…he’s leisurely blowing the jet-black bangs out of his face to peer at you. “Repeat that.”
“Is that a command?” You bite.
And what you’re getting in response is a quick swat on your left ass cheek. Geto’s trained fingers were purposefully increasing their body temperature, leaving his imprint sizzling on your skin—“It is.” That chiselled body of his leans his weight even further down on you, massaging you with smooth, perspired abs. His long tendrils tickle your neck, “And what do you have to say to that, smallfry?”
“I say…” You’re whispering.
Leaning down even closer- practically pinning you beneath him. “Mhmmmm?”
“Fuh-fuck you.”
You weren’t repeating a single thing.
Turning your head ‘round to spit at him. Right across his face.
Except; Geto Suguru anticipates this very moment to leave his unfairly pretty lips ajar and let you spit in his mouth. Straight into his mouth. You’re watching in slow-motion as the glittery wad enters past his maw, getting smeared as the firebender then crashes his lips onto yours.
Such a filthy, filthy kiss.
You’re moaning deep into his mouth Geto roves his hips back n’ starts prodding even harder. Even harder. With the red, spherical tip of his cock—he enters your womb and lingers for a bit. “Now…” Another slap. “That isn’t a very nice thing to say, princess.”
You gasp. He knew.
That lineage you’d fought to keep hidden, for years upon years as you trained and grew stronger, noticed so easily by the prince himself…
Two royals tangled in something you couldn’t discern from passion and a fight.
Geto’s smile spreads against your mouth, and his hands come pummeling down in a rapidfire smack-smack-smack on your ass cheek. Temperature raising at the tips of his fingers. It’s practically sizzling- “What? Cock got your tongue?”
Another smack on your cunt. “Shut up.”
“Tha’s alright- you don’t have to answer me.” He croons. Dragging out with the tip of his tongue- and his cock, the sheer sensitivity of your pussy means that now even the slightest hit at your g-spot makes you jump—
Only for Geto to drag you backwards with a single arm wrapped around your throat. His bulky forearm bulges as he traps you in a headlock; and you’re just starting to ogle his muscles as he rams and rams his trained hips into you. Accelerating. Dragging it down your walls even faster- “But there is just one question I need to find out the answer to.” And that hand of his comes spankin’ down even harder. Smoothing along your ass cheek, “Can the Water Princess squirt—?”
“Fuh-fuck.” He was ruthless. If you thought that Geto was fucking you mean earlier, then you weren’t ready for right now. Your hands claw at the flooring before you, “No sooner than the Fire Prince can cum dry.”
It was the eighth round now and the both of you were gone.
With his hips pinning you down to the dojo ground. His headlock tighter than ever- veiny and muscular. The plump head of his cock drills into you so rapidly that it was nearly nothing but a blur of pink—in and out. In and out.
Geto’s making it a few more sharp thrusts before he feels pleasure coiling at the pit of his stomach. And he can’t have that - of course he can’t cum before who’s supposed to be his mortal enemy - so he squeezes his hand between your legs n’ rolls over that oversensitive nub with two fingers. Powerful fingers—his heat was sizzling, a carnal sensation that you couldn’t even begin to describe.
You yelp.
And though you couldn’t exactly call on your waterbending at the moment, you’re still able to jerk your hips back n’ meet Geto’s thrusts.
Fucking him just as angrily as he was fucking you.
Again and again.
The dojo grounds around you two rumble as though the most passionate fight, before your head throws back and you’re feeling your orgasm hurtling into you. And without thinking twice, you’re reaching underneath your body and grazing Geto’s aching, pistoning cock- just the slightest wisp of your waterbending power…being used to make your fingertips cold.
Cold to the touch.
Cold to contrast against his furiously hot cock.
With a flinch- you’re both tumbling into your highs.
“Fuck- oh…fuck.” You—with your cunt soakin’ itself in the excess of your orgasm. Dopamine coursing through your veins and your eyes fluttering shut- your peripherals sprint to the back of your head. And your toes curl…“I can feel you cumming dry, Suguru.”
“Sh-shut up.”
And so he was—his cockhead was flinching like he’d been spurting out ribbony wires of cum, his balls were clenching…and yet there was nothing. It wasn’t like the previous rounds when you had your deepest depths splashed in a sudden warmth- Geto, this time, was simply emptying out nothing.
Still fucking you ravenously through it-
“Cumming dry.” Elongating his wave of bliss. Rammin’ into your g-spot like a button, just so you could feel the slightest bit of the overstimulation he was. Almost laughing to himself, “You really fucking made me cum dry-”
“Problem, Fire Prince?”
“Not at all, Water Princess.”
And once he’s finally feeling it bate - his shaft having pumped out nothing throughout its entire duration - Geto presses his face into the crook of your neck and moans.
“Best of three then?”
♡ CHOSO KAMO - 3 rounds.
“Baby, I just…” Choso’s tone quivers, something deep and dark seeping into his words. They seemingly erupt from the back of his throat, against his own will, and hang in the air like a sudden spritz of perfume—
Wait…you swear you’re smelling actual perfume.
Brows furrowing. Turning your nose upwards, you take in the fleeting flowery scent; before looking over your shoulder at where your boyfriend was standing.
It was a slow, sleazy weekend: time for just the two of you. The honks of cars were winding down, and sunset dripped from Tokyo city’s roofs and foliage. The only time when Choso was allowed to refuse the missions that the higher-ups foisted upon him, and when you could decline your manager’s calls without feeling even the slightest bit of guilt.
Instead. He was supposed to help you bake cookies today, he was supposed to be padding into your shared kitchen n’ press a sweet, sweet kiss to your cheek - then insist he take over as he always does. He was supposed to be…not this. Whatever this was.
Leaned against the dooframe. Head dropped. Hair loose. Breaths coming out in gusts. Choso had his Brother Bear t-shirt off and his bare chest flushed—damp with perspiration. It’s as though he’d been taken over by a sudden fever, ravaging through him, radiating heat through every single pore. Making his rosy cheeks flush even rosier as he jerks his dark, glazed eyes up to look at you.
And a sudden jolt goes through the both of you-
“Choso…?” You’re cautiously taking a step towards him- to which he’s surprising you by taking a step back. “Baby, what happened?”
“I-I just—” His voice hatches and cracks. Urgently clawing at himself. “Remember how I wasn’t feeling too well in the morning?”
You nod, taking another step closer.
He scratches behind his neck - movements torrid and heavy. Lethargic. “So I took a nap, and when I woke up it was just feeling…” Almost subconsciously, Choso’s hands snake down to the drawstrings of his sweatpants- fuck. And it’s just then that you’re registering the throbbing, aching bulge between his long legs. “-hot.”
Wordlessly, you’re looking at the calendar propped up on one end of the kitchen counter. Ah—the realization makes your lips part. Today’s date sticks out like a jagged nail, or - more accurately - like a…
Your gaze flickers back down to where Choso mindlessly paws at his erection. Breathless. Heating up.
“Cho, baby.” You’re catching his attention once more. Chocolate brown eyes glisten with tears- “I think you’re in heat.”
A shiver crawls through his body.
And his jaw drops, “Oh.”
Soon enough, you’re crossing the sizzling distance between you both and taking your agonized boyfriend by the hand. He flinches - just a little - as his skin touches yours- before you’re pulling him into a kiss and he simply melts—moans your name.
The two of you aren’t making two steps towards the bedroom before Choso hugs you from behind n’ crushes his red-hot, sensitive erection into your back. Breathing out a barely-audible plea. And then you’re both crashing onto the floor - the half-curse’s hands tugging on your panties, your hands flying to his cock.
He’s gotten you kneeled and arched into his scorching body temperature- before he reels backwards and funnels his cock in.
Just the very curve of it. Just the very tip—blushed red like a strawberry and twice as thick, he’s letting his eyes flutter shut as Choso cums instantly - instantly - at the feeling of your soaked pussy. The half-curse glues his hips to yours and starts spraying out satiny ropes of cum, “F-f-fuck…” His bottom lip quivers so cutely.
“Already, Cho?” Your purr.
It was just so cute. Because in the next few seconds he’s almost sobbing- “I…I can’t help myself.” Pretty face coming down to press in the junction of your throat, plastered with hot sweat and tears.
“Awwww.” You’re turning around to place a kiss on his cheek, “That heat’s made my poor boyfriend so sensitive, huh?”
And Choso simply nods and nods- “But m’not done yet.” Then you’re feeling the buzz of cursed energy- Choso’s cursed energy. You’re feeling your breath hitch as the technique of blood manipulation courses through his veins and renders his cock as hard as ever, flushed so hot you could feel him scorching between your swollen pussylips.
He just whimpers at the sensation. Blood manipulation always did leave him a little dizzy…
Then his hips are hammerin’ away into yours as though he was hungry to reach every pulsing spot and nerve inside. Every ounce of space. That spongy layer of your cervix felt like fucking heaven to him, and he didn’t know why but…but something was calling at him to keep on pushin’ his bundles of cum even deeper down there. To keep hitting it over and over.
To give you looooong, textured drags from his tip to his foamed hilt.
To let the most sensual grunts emanate from his throat every time he’s feeling your soaked walls attempt to clench around him. Chasing after the sensation of him stuffing you full.
In more or less of a doggy position, you’re steadying your hands on the lust-red carpet beneath you- and bucking your hips up. He was sizzling hot.
Once.
It makes Choso’s doey eyes widen—and he’s staring at you with bated breath. “What are you…”
Twice.
The globes of your ass cheeks reach backwards and smack! his toned pelvis. That sugary scent in the air only seems to grow even stronger- “Fuh-fuck, baby, that’s dangerous. If you do that, m’gonna…”
Eyes glazing over twofold. A slick line of drool on the corner of his mouth.
Your own twitches in amusement- you had him absolutely wrecked in nothing but a few bounces. In nothing but a few figure-eights making his pupils run to the back of his head. You’re bucking your hips back n’ forth to milk him even more—
“B-baby…”
And that seems to be the last straw for the heat-struck Choso Kamo: who’s lurching his needy body forwards. Pressing one large hand on the upper area of your spine, it doesn’t take much for him to lean his hefty weight down and make you collapse onto the floor-
As you’re toppling - your boyfriend following closely behind as though stuck to you by superglue - he’s placing a forearm underneath your face. A soft cushion.
Making sure you don’t knock yourself on anything- it’s the last act of kindness you’re getting before Choso drills his hips down and pumps out hot, glutinous cum into you again. Head throwing back. Adam’s apple bobbing at the sharp electricity shooting through him—so much of it. And so soon, too.
It must be an effect of the heat, he’s thinking…or at least he would have had it not been for the state he was in.
Utterly ruined. Utterly pussydrunk.
Choso Kamo has his maw pressed in an open-mouthed kiss against the column of your throat, deep shivers wracking through his body as he whines n’ bucks. “B-baby, it just doesn’t seem to stop-” His slippery shaft sticks into your g-spot and you gasp- “I don’t know if it even can stop—”
Both in cumming- and in fucking you.
Without him even calling upon it, his blood manipulation rushes through his body n’ straight to his now-upright cock. Your poor, powerful boyfriend isn’t given a single split-second to let himself go flaccid before his cursed energy takes over again.
He’s rutting and rutting his body forwards. Mouth gaped open at the sensation, and his wet pants synchronizing with the even wetter plaps! of skin-on-skin. They were getting even louder, even sloppier, by the second as Choso’s cum seeps out of your pussy n’ kept getting smeared between your legs.
Hamstrings aching. His abs massaging your back-
Your eyes kept fluttering shut at the sheer pleasure- it was just about past the second round and you still haven’t gotten used to Choso’s sheer size. Only growing and plumpening himself out even bigger as he kept tunneling between your legs—and you swear that damn heat of his left you even more dickmatized than usual, too.
Letting out the prettiest music to his ears as his curved cock slams into your g-spot once more. “Maybe I don’t- hngh, want it to.” You babble out. “Maybe I need you to cum inside- oh, again.”
“Ohhhh, don’t say that.” Pelvis pressed up so harshly against your body that his happy trail scratches you in a way that was so carnal. And any time you’re shifting - Choso has his right hand wrapped around your throat and haaaaauling your weakened body backwards, “P-please don’t say that.” It all comes out in a rush. “If you do then…”
You’re shivering as his nose runs down your throat- drunk on your pheromones. “Then?”
“Then m’gonna cum again.” He whimpers, “And this time I don’t know if I can stop.”
And, truly, Choso could feel his next orgasm building and building at the pit of his stomach - and at the tip of his shaft. It was different than the two before—just a bit stronger, just a bit more electric- he was feeling zaps of electricity shooting to every point in his body; every blood vessel and axiom inside him.
His mind was feeling foggier. His eyes were having a hard time keeping open just from the sheer pleasure of your velvety, wet pussy. Engulfing every inch of him. His hips were rammin’ sloppy strokes into you again and again and again until he-
“I-I—fuck.”
Until he finally explodes into his high.
Tears streaming down his flushed face. Mouth glued to yours.
One hand at your waist n’ swervin’ your hips around so that you can gobble up every ounce of seed he was streaming. Except…
Choso’s eyes shoot open once he realizes-
Except he wasn’t cumming at all.
“Baby, wait.” Because the half-curse surely felt like he was cumming, he surely knew that he’d reached the peak of his pleasure n’ was stretching out that dopamine every time he plunged into you.
And he also knew that your wettened walls were squeezing out every drop like you knew, too, yet he just couldn’t feel a single thing dripping out. Not a single thing.
Choso grips the base of his cock with furrowed brows, “I think I’m…”
“Noooo, don’t pull out.” Needily, you’re reaching behind and clawing at his wrists as he attempts to. Only for Choso to shake his head and replace his engorged cock with a few fingers - it wasn’t as good as his entire length, but it was something.
And then he pumps and pumps his cock- if he couldn’t fuck deep into you then maybe he could coat your pretty pussylips with his glittering sap. But the only thing he’s able to let out is nothing. Cumming dry.
“Dry?” You’re looking behind in interest, and it’s just then that he’s realizing he must’ve said that out loud. Fuck, he’s so gone. “Three times was too many, huh-”
“No.” Choso interrupts, “No- no, baby. Don’t even think of that.” And he’s so tearful—he’s so apologetic at the fact that he couldn’t…
Cooing, “There’s nothing wrong with that, Cho-”
“I know, but…” And he hesitates, but the words disrupt from his throat anyways. “-something in me says I need to stuff you full of my cum until I can…hck- see your tummy bloat with it. Now.”
Your jaw drops at the sight of your innocent boyfriend uttering such words. Such dirty, dirty words.
And before you know it, you’re laid flatly on your back with Choso’s handsome face looming over you. The air between you two charges with cursed energy once more, and his red-hot cockhead sliiiides between your pussylips.
Blood manipulation leaving him harder than ever.
He hisses, “Th-this time, I promise to you m’gonna cum…”
“Whatever you say, baby.” Arms flinging around his broad shoulders.
♡ RYOMEN SUKUNA - 21 rounds…?
You most definitely weren’t going to survive, you think.
The Sukuna Estate has been in an uproar; though this time it wasn’t by reason of an attack, a duel, or the King’s torrid temper. Surprisingly. This time, it was because Ryomen Sukuna had returned from a far-off journey - he’d heard some relative of the Kamo Clan was spouting nonsense about being able to match the four-armed sorcerer in terms of cursed energy, and had gone to put that to the test - and he was victorious.
Of course, he was victorious.
There was no time that he wasn’t. In the few years that you’d volunteered yourself as one of Sukuna’s concubines, you’ve never known the King to lose to an argument let alone a duel.
And of course, it must be said that Sukuna had numerous - if not hundreds - of women and men housed in his Estate. None coerced; the accepted concubines were more residents for his reputation, than anything. Stories had spread far and wide that he accepted those searching for pay, food, or simply a place to stay—and no intimate relations were a prerequisite for anything that they wanted. You could come at any time, you could leave at any time.
He’d long since tired of mortal desires.
Except for the ones you stirred up, of course.
The stories of the Kamo sorcerer’s pitiful defeat had also spread far and wide- and it’d been the subject of much laughter in the concubine quarters lately. In addition to the fact that - in his woeful attempt at snagging a win and a name for himself - the opponent had called on the help of several different clans (the Abe, the Zenin, the Fujiwara traitors) to ambush and attack Sukuna.
Though of course they were fallen. As were their men.
And according to the whispers, the death toll had reached the hundreds before Sukuna made his path back home. Back to you…if you were to be so presumptuous.
It wasn’t a secret that you were his favorite- and the ministers of the Estate are coming straight to you to personally announce that the King was nearing. You’re nodding sagely.
You knew what that meant - as it always did after a battle - that Ryomen Sukuna was hungry. The more struck-down opponents, the hungrier. Not for anything to consume or to refresh, but rather a starvation much more carnal and deeper within—the primal taste for flesh against flesh.
You were sitting in perfect poise and your smile hidden as the door to the master bedroom slams! open. The sliding door splinters on one end- and you shiver as you realize that this was going to be one of those nights…he was famished. The King removes his sokutai robes and lets them drop to the tatami floor with a heave, and then his deep footsteps pad over to you.
“Master.” You start to bow-
“You are aware I have a distaste for when you do that.”
Before you’re peeking up at him with a sly grin. “I’m aware. I just like how it riles you up so much, Kuna.”
His second mouth opens in guffaw.
And Sukuna raises one pink brow, “And I expect you are well-hydrated? For this night shall be long and merciless.”
You smile even wider.
.
.
.
One round.
Two.
Three.
Four—
It was just one round after the other. So many and so often; so many vicious slashes of Sukuna’s hips that already made you lose count- again and again. Your hands cascade down his thoroughly-built front to hold on for dear life. The windows were pulled shut, though you could feel the glowing of daylight behind it. The King was laid back against his oak headboard and helping you straddle his hips - your thighs crushed against the muscular, ridged area of his obliques as his cocks drilled into you twofold.
They were one after the other.
Thrust after thrust.
Stacked on top of one another—the upper length was slightly longer than the bottom one. Numerous inches long. Tufts of dark-pink hair. Getting your inner thighs wet with globs of sweet, sweet cum that dribble out every time he’s pulling out-
And then ramming deeply back in again. Ravenous.
He’s been cumming so many times this night—but he still wasn’t done. He was still throbbing at his heavy balls, no matter how many puddles of sap swashed inside of you. He was still rock-hard and running on his monstrous stamina.
So many times that you’re swearing you feel your eyes sprinting to the back of your skull-
“Ah ah-” One of his four hands lifts up to cup your gorgeous face…or so you think. Instead, Sukuna’s straightening his hand out and swatting the side of your face- jolting you back to your senses.
You’re whining as you’re pulled back. Nose crinkling in irritation, you’re looking at him: and oh—was it a sight to behold. Sukuna’s incredible muscles were pumped up to be even bigger n’ bulkier as he manhandled you on top of him, sweat dripped from in-between his pink brows, and his second mouth stuck his tongue out and laps at his cursed lips with them. Before moving to yours…
Fervent moans crack at the back of your throat as Sukuna’s tastebuds glide-glide-gliiiiide along the sensitive inner parts of your thighs. Before spreading apart your pussylips and rolling over your clit.
As you’re shattering on top of him - your nth high coursing through you like a tidal wave - he chuckles. Both greedy mouths. “Not givin’ up so soon, are you, brat? Do not be like all those other humans-” He spits it out like acid, “-I’ve had to defeat today.”
“B-but…” Babbling out stupidly. Your tears stream down your cheeks, your bottom lip quivers as his hips accelerate. “But I am, human—”
“With a distinct difference.” He answers.
A few more merciless strokes and you’ve given up all hope of attempting to meet his pace. His plap-plapping cadence. His hips against yours, causing such a searing sting that makes your spine arch into his sweaty body.
Into his cursed mouth that wraps its unbelievable length around one of your thighs and uses it like a lasso- tugs you closer to him. Like a ragdoll.
The very tip of his tastebuds start ticklin’ at your clit once more, and you’re feeling your body droop limply into Sukuna’s toned front. Your chin rests between his plush pectorals; and he reaches two beefy arms behind you to guide your hips. To perk you up n’ down, up n’ down, up n’ down—
And with a third palm, the King shuts your drivelling maw- “Besides your…slobber, you are above the title of just any human.” Those mean lips of his dip down to whisper into your ear, “You’re my human. And I expect you to be my future Queen- the future mother of my children.”
A fourth and final one of his hands comes down to press on your cumflated tummy. Just the slightest pressure enough to make hot, white seed foam out of your pussy-
“This royal pussy shall have to drink my cum up until we have an heir, yes?”
And you nod- you nod. You’ve spoken on the matter with the King of Curses before - a somewhat surprising occurrence - and both of you knew you wanted this.
Both of you were weakly pushin’ your hips firmly against his to milk out whatever ropey ounces of cum he was giving. He was flooding your insides. More and more; orgasms crashing into one another—Sukuna cums deeply inside you again with both cocks and it still wasn’t enough for him. “B-but how will we ever…oh, how will we know it’s even taken, Kuna?” Sobbing.
You’re looking down and it’s just an utter mess of creamy cum n’ the glossed-over tufts of his pink hair. Both bulbous tips twitching as they rammed inside you-
Sukuna smiles as he answers, “Oh…good question. Heh.” The inches of his tongue probe between your legs once again, though this time you’re feeling the ridges of his tastebuds enter your stuffed hole instead of merely grazing over your cunt. That prickly sensation glues to the back of your throat. “If my counting is correct, this is about the 21st- ah, round.” Looking down at his muscular stomach for confirmation, his cursed mouth squelches! outward and hums in confirmation. “How about…”
“N-ngh—” And you think if you’re about to cum, your body prevents you from it. Too pushed to its limits, you can only whimper and writhe on top of him-
And as you’re cumming with a mere few twitches, Sukuna’s cum seeps something hot and sticky in the back of your cunt. “Human, milk your King until he can’t cum anymore.”
Until he’s cumming dry?!
Your heart races as you wonder just how many more rounds that would take out of you-
Just how much more stamina does the strongest sorcerer of all time have? How much could he possibly—
It’s as though he was expecting a far stronger fight from his sorcerer counterparts, so any and all pressure was being placed on your cunt now. With Sukuna’s driveling tips so hot n’ ruby-red—plummeting and plummeting between your swollen pussylips in search of drenching your pretty cervix white. He empties out a few more beads of pearlescent white before snickering, “Don’t worry too much for your mortality, brat…”
Your eyes flutter open- and he’s pulling you into a deep kiss. Through that, his reverse cursed energy courses through your own faltering body.
“I’ll be done in one more round…two…five…” He murmurs, “Perhaps another twenty-one.”
♡ INO TAKUMA - 3.5 rounds.
“N-no, I promise…” Ino’s hiccuping hitches were just so cute- they interrupted him mid-sentence and made him sound as though he was pleading. “I promise- this time- now-”
“Baby, you don’t have to force it.” You’re cooing gently.
And he all but sobs- “No- no, no no…I promise I’m not too- hck! overstimulated to cum.”
Though…you’re getting the sense that he really was.
Your proud, stubborn boyfriend was on his knees and begging—his chocolate-brown eyes wide, his brows furrowed, his bottom lip quivering in just the slightest way that was just the cherry on top. Ino gasps as he fists his cock even harder, dragging his palm down its left-leaning curve; again and again.
And you’re peering down at the man as he grows more and more frustrated with himself- at the fact that no matter how many times he’s jerkin’ his cock off…he still refused to cum.
Or, at least, he did cum - just without the creamy white mess that’d usually accompany it.
Three (and a half) rounds and Ino was cumming dry. Cumming nothing. With his body kneeled before you, with his mouth hoverin’ over your glistening wet pussy—he’d been making out sloppily with your pussy- all slathered in wads of his seed from rounds prior. Clenching and warm. And it was just the hottest thing he’s ever tasted.
So you really couldn’t blame the guy for pulling on his reddened cock as he did so…but that was precisely when disaster had struck.
When Ino had quirked the edge of his thumb underneath his sopping wet slit - just how you do it - and out came…absolutely nothing. Absolutely nothing and he was devastated—
“I-I don’t understand.” He’s babbling to himself. His gaze flickers between his angry cock and his even angrier hand- not smeared with cum. “I don’t understand, I always…”
Softly placing a hand on his slim shoulder, “Baby, I told you s’okay.”
“But it’s not okay…” Ino mutters, tone practically a pout. He averts his face from your gaze, “I never last the rounds and rounds they do in books. And lately I’ve been going to the gym n’ everything more to increase my stamina, too.”
“Is that why you’ve been buying dumbbells for the house, too?” You laugh, “And here I thought you were on some strange decorating spree.”
He juts his lower lip out, “Don’t make fun of me, sweetness…”
“I’m not, I’m not.” You’re insisting. And without further ado, you’re holding either side of Ino’s sunkissed shoulders and helping him get up, standing his lanky body before you. He’s dragged to your every whim and want; as you’re taking him by the hand and guiding him to the bed- before long you’re laying back in it with Ino hoverin’ above you.
Wrapping your feet around his small waist, you let his blushin’ cockhead kiss your pussylips. He shivers. “Oh, fuck.”
“That’s what I’m doing.” Slyly, you’re letting him ease inside you- your poor boyfriend’s seeing stars at the sudden stimulation. His hips coming down to hammer his cock into you—
But you’re stopping him with a leisurely hand at his hips, shaking your head with a smile as he stares down at you with teary eyes. A plea on his lips- “Now now…” You’re cutting that sweet noise of his off with a tut, spreading your thighs apart even further n’ letting his rotund cock maze its way inside - sloooowly. “Take it easy, Taku. Easy—don’t worry, we’re gonna make you cum this round, m’kay?”
He’s nodding jerkily- uncertainly. “Y-you can really do that, pretty?”
“Of course.” Raising one brow, “Don’t trust me?”
And he’s hastening to shake his head. Urgent and alarmed. “What- no.” And as though to prove this point, Ino leaves his hips at a complete standstill. Painfully so - for him. “No, no—I would n-never not trust you, sweetness. I was just-”
“Shhhh, I know, Taku.” Soothing him. You push away a tuft of chestnut-brown hair from his sweaty forehead, “I know…”
Sinking his teeth into his bottom lip, you’re both staring down at the place where you were connected. His throbbing cock. Your glistening wet pussy.
And then you’re breathing out in a tone that’s low and slow—practically hypnotizing him the more of his inches he’s sweepin’ inside. “Just need you to fuck me, baby.”
He’s shuddering as he bottoms out.
Deeeeeep; those inches are red-hot and vein-covered, massaging your walls as he’s sliding in. The crown of his cock is a circumference you could feel at your very throat- and Ino’s head throws back prettily as he’s hittin’ your cervix a few times. “Sh-shit—”
You’re holding back your giggle, “Everything alright, Taku?”
“No- yes.” And after a few more sloppy strokes, he whines. “No…”
Because how could he be? Less than a few minutes ago, he’d been ruttin’ against your calves and cumming dry into his fist. Right now, he was feeling as though the pearly gates of heaven had opened up wiiiiiide between your legs n’ was sucking his soul with every passing second- even the tiniest slurps of your pussy meant his brow was furrowing.
The tips of his ears growing red, “I-it’s just…I feel like m’gonna cum again.” Ino babbles into your mouth- capturing it in a sinful kiss. “And I think m’gonna cum dry-”
“How’d you know if you haven’t done it yet, hm?” You ask, bouncing your hips up to meet his own. The smack-smack-smacking sounds between you two was all but deafening, “C’mon, baby. Cum inside- hah, fill me up again.”
“Shit- now m’really gonna cum soon…” He’s echoing out desperately. Pelvis rammin’ into yours- and it was already torturous enough for his aching shaft - pistoning deeper and deeper - without your body greedily pushing up into his.
And he feels his heart race as the grin stretches across your face, “Good.” Kissing the soft nape of his neck, it makes his tip ooze out just a little more milky drops of precum. They glue to the pulsating area of your g-spot. “Because I really, really—mmpf.”
And before you know it, your sorcerer boyfriend has reached behind you and clasped- at the discarded ski mask that he was usually known to make.
The soft, fluffy cotton of it glues your mouth shut.
Muffling your lewd words to the back of your throat - you don’t have a chance to get out whatever it is you wanted to say. Whatever it is you knew would drive him over the edge.
And yet, Ino Takuma was still completely and utterly ruined as he punctures his ravenous cock between your legs-
Over and over and over.
“Oh- ngh.” The cutest little whimper leaves his throat, and Ino turns his big, tearful eyes towards you. “O-ohhh, please…sweetness, m’really not joking. M’really gonna cum this time.”
“Mmmm—” Nodding fervently.
“I swear m’gonna do it.” Kissing your forehead in apology for the gag- though he could feel just how wet you were getting between your legs. The sheen of your slick soaks his pelvis, his v-line, and the upper parts of his own thighs. Burned slightly red with constant. “I s-swear m’gonna cum.”
“Do it-” You just barely manage out. Before getting cut off- with both the ski mask being pushed deeper into your mouth, and the squeeze of Ino’s slender fingers on your clit.
Making you see stars-
Toes curling. Back arching. As though a feverish sensation is taking over your body, making your skin perspire and your head throw into the pillows.
And just as your orgasm rages through you, Ino’s does, too.
This time…he’s pumping and pumping his ruddied cock—dragging the luscious curve of it across every single sensitive spot and dip. Those bundles of nerves that he was mapping out. And it’s as if Ino was trying to milk himself - to drag out the wetness of his orgasm if it kills him.
And luckily for him, he doesn’t cum dry.
Somewhat.
He’s beading out a single drop of seed that gets pushed right to the back of your womb- smeared by the rotund curve of his tip.
And then Ino looks at you with watery, content eyes. “I-I did it, sweetness.”
“That you did, Taku.”
“D’you think I can cum again?”
♡ GOJO SATORU - INFINITY.
“Honey, I’m home~”
Which would have been a completely ordinary greeting from your husband, of course. Which would never have made you think twice before you opened the door for him, of course.
Except…there was one little issue.
The Gojo Satoru you’re married to was wide-eyed and crazed on your television screen; Mei Mei’s livestream of the Shinjuku Showdown was playing in 4K on your 115-inch TV. And from your standstill in front of the locked door, you could still see your husband’s black t-shirt starting to tear through once he increases his Hollow Purple to 200% and bursts it right in the direction of Ryomen Sukuna—or more like…the Ryomen Sukuna that was inhabiting the body of your honorary son.
But that was semantics. Or so you liked to think to keep yourself sane in here.
It had been Professor Yaga’s idea to keep you home whilst the battle raged on - there was no telling where the King of Curses would go or attack to gain an upper hand on his opponents. Evil never fought fair. And it was here - in the humble…but not-so-humble abode of your’s and Gojo’s penthouse apartment - that he’d cast the strongest veils.
Talismans and protective omens from far and wide. Around the world.
Over the years, Gojo had taken it upon himself to make your house the safest place in the world - a home for his home—you. He knew the burden that came with being loved by The Strongest, and this was the one thing he could do to alleviate it.
And it was perfect.
But there’d be no home here without your husband. And your stomach twists as you watch the white-haired sorcerer break out in a grin when his compression shirt gets completely torn and his throat nearly slashed.
Sweat glimmers across his defined muscles, and you’re finding it so hard to look away. The battle was reaching a climax- you could tell by the wild look in Gojo’s eyes.
A blur of movements and another explosion of candescent purple-
And then the door clicks! open.
This can’t be.
Surely, this can’t be.
Gojo was still on-screen.
Gojo was crouching over the King’s chosen vessel and watching as the marked tattoos disappear from what is now - and hopefully forevermore - just…Megumi’s face. He seems to be sleeping peacefully, and the victorious sorcerer on-screen presses two fingers to the poor boy’s pulse.
Brows furrowed in concentration- or concern?
Before a brilliant smile breaks out across Gojo’s face- and he nods to some of the others off-screen. Then you’re seeing the livestream falter on a sudden rush of white coats and stretches, a few of the paramedics reaching for your wounded husband as well—
Before you blink and he disappears. The only evidence of ever existing at the Shinjuku site being the bewildered faces of the doctors- and you.
And the fact that that very same Gojo Satoru was before you know.
Chest heaving. Those cloud-white tufts of his hair were messy - a far cry from his usual updo.
And his eyes…oh, his eyes were harrowed.
Empty. Unfocused. As though his mind was still in the midst of battle- though his body’s natural instinct was to come to you. And though power still radiated off of him in waves, it’s nothing of the calm river of coldness that normally layered his body. This was a torrential rain—drenching your living room, drenching the entire apartment.
Pure uninhabited cursed energy; the dam had broken now. The very space he enters drops a few degrees in temperature.
The very same man you’d kissed goodbye before his battle- now with a simple layer of debris and dust covering him. It left him almost ghost-pale, and you wanted to brush it off as though discarding such an omen - he’d won.
With nothing but a few cuts on his brows and his lip, some already healing across his arms, he’d won. And he was standing right before you.
Unsteady on his feet.
He slowly raises his eyes to the livestream behind you and comments, “Ah- that’s a little delayed.” And then his gaze drops down to you - finally, finally drops down to you - and he breaks out into a smile.
Brighter than any sun.
Gojo had escaped the arms of death and run straight to you.
.
.
.
“Mmmm-mmpfg—” The blindfold muffles your mouth perfectly - which should be ironic, considering that all Gojo was thinking about during that damn battle was hearing your voice. At least one last time.
One last time.
And perhaps then, he could pass…peacefully.
But he hadn’t; for who could be stupid enough to underestimate Gojo Satoru? Especially not Gojo Satoru himself. And so here he was: with his hot blindfold gift-wrapping your mouth, and his cock drivelling into you like he was a machine—
In the lewdest doggy position possible; and you only wanted more.
Unable to vocalize, you’re fisting at the sheets- then behind at Gojo’s toned body. Clawing at those rippling obliques of his to try and draw him even further forwards. “M-more…mmmpfore.”
Forwards and forwards.
Even deeper in.
The sudden change in angle makes Gojo’s puckered tip kiss up at your g-spot - even harder than before. And by now you’ve memorized the exact length n’ circumference of him—the exact measurements that were swabbin’ aside your wettened walls and tumbling into every spot you loved so much.
He knew every single one. Every single one.
And he was welcoming himself back- he was making sure you’d never forget him again and again and again—
Gojo’s long since lost track of time- and he doesn’t care. Hours could have passed, days could have passed - but the only thing that really mattered to him was finally having his hands on you—and his cock glued to the back of your pussy.
It was almost concerning how many times he’d stuffed your greedy orifice full - and yet, still kept on cumming. Cumming so long and hot inside you.
“Oh…mmm.” Moans muffled. Lashes flickering shut. And your hamstrings ache with fatigue he couldn’t feel because of his training - the man had just fought history’s strongest sorcerer, for heaven’s sake.
And yet, Gojo wasn’t feeling the slightest bit of lethargy as he loops one forearm underneath your hips and scoops your droopin’ hips back up. Plastering them against his own. Sweat and slick sizzles between your clashing bodies—and Gojo’s voice cracks just a little as he asks. “More…?” Breathless. Higher than usual. Your husband’s eyes were wide and piercing- begging you for an answer.
His red-hot tip was just so ready to explode, and that syrupy white cum was already beginning to drivel out. To smear. To stuff inside. “T-tell me what you want, sweetheart.” He gusts his breath down your spine; absolutely scorching. “Is it more—?”
“It’s more- it’s more-” Sometimes, you wonder if he could read minds. And at the state that Gojo was in right now - you wouldn’t be surprised. Just barely, you’re managing to utter coherent words through those merciless restraints, and oh, how he loved watching you gagging on his blindfold.
Filthy.
Tears flooding your gorgeous eyes. Your spittle cascading down in two streams- either side of your mouth.
Hot cum spills between your legs, and you’re still begging for more.
Hah…Gojo can’t help but plant a loving peck on the side of your messy face. Humming, “Then m’gonna give you more.”
“Yes—” Nodding, you plant your hands on the patch of mattress before you. Attempting to haul yourself up just a lil’ so that you could at least try and match his ramming pace-
“Nuh uh, sweetheart.” Had this been anyone but Gojo, then you would’ve found that smug tone of his oh-so-irritating. Just then, Gojo’s leaning his hefty weight over and pinning you down even further onto the mattress—rubbin’ his blossomed cockhead across every inch of your cunt.
You’re getting cut off mid-gasp.
You’re fucking collapsing. And Gojo’s just colliding into you from behind.
Tangled up into such a mess; he’s drunkenly buckling on top of you and crashin’ and crashin’ his hips into you from above. Nose-deep into the crook of your neck. Mouth parted with constant sensual grooooans—“Wh-whatever my wife wants…” He’s easily massaging your g-spot back and forth a few times, and then pulling all the way out with a resounding pop! “-your husband- The Strongest is gonna get it for you.”
“Yes- yes, Toru…”
“M’serious.” He says in a jagged tone. “You wanted more?” The sudden confrontation of his words make you startle- and you’re giving him a quick nod. To which Gojo runs his buzzing fingertips between the sopping crevice of your folds, “Then m’gonna give you more. Hah, careful not to squeeze too tight.”
At that exact moment, you feel the air…stiffen around the two of you.
It was the same sort of tension you’d felt when Gojo had first entered the apartment: the presence of the world’s most powerful cursed energy. It coiled around your bodies and set your skin alight- before focusing on one particular spot—
Shockwaves run up your spine. And your husband reaches down to pat your stuffed pussy- “Unlimited void.”
You freeze. “M-mmpmf…?” You’ve already talked about such uses of Gojo’s powers with him before - you just didn’t expect it now—but you sure as hell weren’t complaining.
It seems as though Gojo’s cursed energy was coursing through every axiom of him and supercharging it - he didn’t control it. You didn’t know if he could. It was seeping from his body into yours, and turning your slick channel into…that. Whatever it was. Something he could reel his hips back from and rut n’ rut and rut - without it ever getting stuffed too full.
Instantly - and because of the overuse of his powers - Gojo’s feeling his warm tip dribbles out a few more ropes of cum.
And it’s almost like a…challenge at this point: just to see whether he could properly fill that gaping hole of yours. Gojo’s catching his pretty rose-pink lip between his teeth when he gazes down between those tremblin’ legs, “Fuck- see?” Voice growing more ragged by the second, “See—?”
Nodding and nodding.
“Th-this pussy wanted more, and n-now she’ll never get full. Now she’s flooded with me right down to the womb-” Pressing his second palm on top of your stomach. “-and she still wants more. Hungry girl. Now she can take so much more that- hngh.” Getting cut off with a ruinous moan himself - he’s pumping out pearlescent webs once more. Another orgasm.
“That?” You’re choking out.
Breathed between clenched teeth, “That you’re gonna milk The Strongest dry, sweetheart.”
“O-oh…” A jolt of pleasure runs through your body at the notion- or maybe it was just Gojo’s slender fingers tightly grasping your clit. Those digits of his were coated in so much thrumming cursed energy that it drove you mad—“Is that even possible?” That expensive blindfold finally loosens its restraint ‘round your mouth, the constant jostling to and fro causing it to unravel.
“Hmmmm?” Jackhammering hips. Interest piqued. Bolts of lightning shooting from the edges of his eyes as he smiles.
Again and again and again, his shaft scours your insides and stirs every sweet spot up. “I just mean-” Making you feel lightheaded. “How many rounds has it- oh, already been? Are we even sure you can cum dry, Toru?”
“Dunno.” He answers, and your jaw drops.
Just then, you’re sure that he’s hit with another orgasm—and you are, too.
Yours starts out in-between your legs with a sudden twitch- before suddenly the pleasure’s setting your body alight. Your heartbeat thrums in your ears, and Gojo’s humming softly to himself as he fucks you through it.
As he’s letting a few sloppy draaaags out before gritting his pearly-whites and dropping his head forwards. Deeper into the crook of your neck; Gojo lets out moan after moan as he dribbles out squelchin’ cum for the nth time tonight.
One after the other.
Loooong and luxurious. Those satiny ropes are emptied out into the deepest depths of your channel, and he was so thoroughly overstimulated by the charged euphoria that he sobs-
And a lightbulb bursts in the distance.
“M’not cumming dry yet.” Gojo’s heavy balls twitch once he’s plasterin’ them to the forefront of your pussylips. And you can feel them swelling and throbbing after every trickle- “But we have the whole night for that, don’t we?”
“Night? I think s’been days.” You retort, sneaking a glance at the daylight-shimmered curtains.
“Ah, semantics~”
♡ HIGURUMA HIROMI - 5 rounds.
“I just don’t understand, angel.” Higuruma leans back in his faux leather-bound chair and sighs, his gold-tipped pen coming to tap between his eyebrows as though searching for some button hidden in there - one that would preferably jumpstart the rest of him into normalcy. He continues, “This Fujiwara case has just made me lose all my stamina.”
Because it’s always a long, hard day in the courtroom.
And Higuruma Hiromi knows that - he’s the best defense lawyer Tokyo ever did see. There’s a reason he graduated at the top of his batch, there’s a reason he started his own law firm at around half the age that most of his colleagues do.
There’s a reason that Higuruma Hiromi, criminal defense attorney, makes the tension in courtrooms thicken until they’re almost stifling the second he walks through those polished pews.
But this case…
It was the usual- some poor sap blamed for a white-collar crime that he clearly didn’t do. And though Higuruma had half the brain to eye his bosses strangely, the nature of this case also meant that the prosecuting team was the best of the best—being that they knew how to twist their words.
And Higuruma was left haggard after a single session. Not that he didn’t think he stood a chance - he knows he does, he knows that guy’s getting out scot-free after this - but it’s just that…he had to do this for months.
He had to walk into the courtroom and feel his mind becoming more n’ more fossilized by the second- that damn prosecuting team was abhorrent.
And so here he was.
11:41PM. Cooped up in his office room at home; Higuruma was slumped down at his desk, whilst you stood concerned beside him. As he lets out another prolonged sigh, you’re stepping behind the chair and starting to massaging his firm shoulders - surely knotted to hell and back.
Higuruma shoots you a grateful smile, “It’s awful. I had to sit there and try not to throw my chair at those prosectors for-”
“Five hours.” You’re finishing his sentence.
He’s gazing up at you lovingly, “And even for lawyers they’re insufferable- and that’s coming from me.”
You’re furrowing your brows in humor, “Hey—you’re only half-insufferable.”
That makes him let out a laugh, “But I’m telling you, angel-” And almost as quickly as it came, it disappears. Higuruma’s pinching the bridge of his handsome nose for the nth time this night, “I’m not at that age just yet, but it seems I must work on my stamina. Today was absolute hell.”
“Five hours, huh?” Even saying it out loud made you feel weary, “Y’know how long that’s about?”
“Hm?” He looks at you, “How long?”
Leaning down to whisper in his ear, “That’s about as long as a…” And even before you’re saying the words, you’re sensing the goosebumps that skitter down Higuruma’s neck and even further down his collar. Just how far…you wonder. “-marathon that we have, hm, Hiromi?”
“Yes…” He breathes out. Long, dark lashes nearly shuttering.
He’s been so caught up with that damn case lately- so caught up, he hasn’t had enough time to spend with you. And just the mere mention of it…of being between those pretty legs n’ fucking you for hours and hours is enough to leave him a little heated.
And Higuruma’s meeting your eyes like two magnets that have finally met- first, his lips are on your neck. Then he’s tugging you onto his lap.
.
.
.
“Yes—” Higuruma hisses out- voice pitched into a tone so utterly unlike him. Something so botched in his words, something so ruined—
He’s been fucking your perfect cunt for hours now, and was showing no signs of stopping.
Your attorney husband has a steadfast hold on your hips; from the luxurious chair you’ve moved onto the edge of his desk. Pressed on your front over the mahogany table, hands clawing out haplessly in front of you, ass archin’ up into his vicious thrusts.
The skin ‘round Higuruma’s pelvis has turned red by this point, and he was hissing between his teeth every time his hips came in contact with yours—smack!
So hard that you’re flinching just a little bit.
And that makes a few streams of cum dribble out from between your clenched pussylips- the pure-white sheen of it coating your thighs. Higuruma doesn’t let a single sweet ounce of it go to waste before he’s snaking a hand down and thumbin’ off just a few drops.
And then you’re finding it stuffed between your lips- “M-mmmm…” Your tears form a lacquer down your cheeks, “Hiromi, you’re so filthy.”
“You married me for it, didn’t you?” He grins. Head tipping back just a little once you’re clenching your sopping wet walls in confirmation, “F-fuck, ngh—keep doing that. Just a little tighter, sugar.” And if you were in any clearer of a state of mind, then you’d have noticed that his husky tone was cracking—voice breaking at the tail end of his sentence.
Higuruma was feeling his sanity drip away every time he entered your pussy- but so were you.
You moan, “Need more-”
He pats at your pussy adoringly, feeling the wetness of your slick mixed with his clingy white cum. “More, huh? Sure you can handle it, angel?” Darting a look at the clock, “We’re already on…a few hours. Round five.”
Nodding and nodding.
And you’re all but keening for more as you feel him edge his ravenous cock away - just a few inches. It honestly wasn’t even a movement that should impact the sheer carnal streeeeetch he was bestowing upon you.
But with your needy senses, you’re turning your head over your shoulder. About to mouth off to your husband about pulling away when you were hungry for him the most when-
When you’re seeing that he’d been reaching for that scrap of fabric thrown over his chair.
A stray discardment in the heat of the moment earlier.
His tie.
Your restraints now.
Because in a split-second, Higuruma loops the jet-black fabric around your dangling wrists. It doesn’t take him long to fasten it and tighten it—testing it just by giving it a little pull- he finds himself grinning as your body’s able to be lifted and moved ‘round just by this.
Perfect.
The semi-coarse cloth was strangely sensual against your skin- almost biting.
Higuruma himself leans down to give a small nip at your right shoulder, before he’s leaning back and hauling you—inches off the table. Two hands clasped around your wrists, the cold hiss of his wedding ring matching yours, the red, rotund head of his cock swipin’ inwards and making your walls bulge with the size of him. “O-oh, fuuuuuck-”
His dribbling divot navigates straight to the bottom of your pussy. “Yeah- yeahhhhh, you’ve got this.” Higuruma whispers as your orgasm wracks through you - and his own fifth one was nearing ever-closer. “You can take it. You can take me-”
“Should I be concerned about the- ngh, amount of space I have left?” In unison, you’re snapping your head down at the area between your legs. Limp.
“Concerned?”
Cum was seeping out of you in what looked like bucketloads- in all the physical stamina that Higuruma was determined to prove that he still has. And he sure does - or at least your thoroughly-stuffed pussy seemed to think so - but your husband was still pumping away even harder.
Rougher.
Splatterin’ patterns of syrupy sap on your skin- where contact was being made constantly. Higuruma laps at the gentle leaking with his thumb once more, “Sugar, this pussy was made to take my cum.”
Manhandling you backwards using the restraint of his tie, and slammin’ a final French kiss into the back of your cervix. You feel him start to twitch—in the way that Higuruma always does before he’s about to coat your walls with a layer of cum. “I-inside…” You whine. “All of it- inside.”
“Mhmmm, your husband has you, angel.” And then he’s holding you close-
Tip thickening at the very flared edge, the crown of it, he’s pouring out a few glittery ropes of…nothing. Absolutely nothing. Higuruma’s dark eyes shoot open as it sinks in: he was cumming in every way, shape, sensation, and form—except for the absence of cum. The absence of gooey white cum seeping out his shaft- and he’s feeling it.
But he isn’t drenching your pussy in the way he’s expected to.
And Higuruma seethes- “Angel, I…” Lower lip trembling as he takes in the cum that’d frothed out of you and was now being pushed back, “I-I believe I didn’t-”
“Hiromi, did you cum dry—?” Wonderment seeps into your tone. “I didn’t even know you could do that-”
“I didn’t, either.” There was something akin to…disappointment in his tone. Something akin to sadness, something akin to determination- “I can’t believe I…angel, my stamina is fucked-”
“Baby, you just went five rounds without stopping-”
“And if I don’t cum on the sixth…” That ruby-red tip rubs up against your g-spot, ready to splurge out cum at least this time.
Toji preferred to keep things uncomplicated. Bodies, no feelings. Time was measured in rounds and nights, not in simple favors or conversation. Sleeping with his referee fits his philosophy at first; you didn't push, never asked for more. You understood: the nighttime belonged in his bed. Daylight belongs to other people.
Toji never asked about the bruises. There are tons of ways to get hurt: you're the referee of a boxing champion. It was bound to happen. He never asked about the exhaustion because, hell, who isn't tired? Never asked about the careful way you moved, like you were constantly ready to absorb impact. It's none of his business -- and Toji is more than good at deciding where his care ends.
It wasn't his business. He made sure of that.
But indifference is easier in theory than it is as a lifestyle. Damage accumulates, patterns emerge. The silences feel heavier than the sex. Toji begins to notice too much -- how you flinch, how your calm is practiced, how your pain is almost polite. The ring taught him to recognize pain and grin, but when he looks at you, all he can do is frown. It surprises him how much effort it takes not to care.
It's not some fluffy love story. Yes, he notices. No, it doesn't stop him from leaving his own bruises on you, from being rough as a tank in bed. It's not his problem, but it doesn't stop it from becoming one at all.
she lives... finally back ! dropping blurbs before the main thing.
i find the concept of bf!gojo teleporting to your apartment when you’re mad at him and ignoring his texts so funny
like he knows you’ll probably just be more mad and will end up slapping him for even trying that bs with his limitless but you’re severely underestimating his need for your attention.
you’re reading a book, lying on your stomach, calm in those extra fancy sheets satoru bought for you. and then he’s there. well, right next to the side of your bed, blindfold shoved up above his eerily blue eyes. your head snaps as you see him out your peripheral, jumping back immediately, nearly rolling off your bed when he appears.
“listen, baby—” a book hits him in his face—well almost does. it bounces off his…force field thingy…? if you’re honest every time he goes off on a tangent on his powers you just space out and nod along saying ‘so cool, toru’. he frowns like it’s an insane thing you tried to do that.
“what on earth is wrong with you, gojo!?” your voice is laced with shock, clenching your hands on the sheets, still a little shaken up from seeing his figure randomly appear in your room during your ‘decompressing time’ where you were supposed to be free of him.
“gojo? c’mon, you can’t be that mad?”
you ready your pillow in your hands, knowing it’ll still probably bounce right off if you throw it at him.
“what part of ‘fuck off.’ do you not get?” you’re raising your voice now and he looks physically hurt by it.
“well you said until i was ready to apologize,” he bends down, lying his arms on the bed infront of you while you jolt away. he frowns even more. “and i am, dear.” you kick his hands away when they try and trace his way up your shins.
he pouts like a child denied ice cream.
“i, satoru gojo,” he lies his head on the bed, still looking at you as he crones his head to the side. “apologize to my amazing, utterly gorgeous girlfriend, for embarrassing you infront of your boss.”
“you are such a child.” he sighs. you’re probably right—he got shitfaced infront of all your coworkers on wine coolers and disgustingly sweet alcohol, after insisting upon coming, and saying utter bullshit to your boss like a college kid. “and you just teleport here with your stupid powers? go to hell, satoru.” you throw the pillow, hitting him dead in the face after he deactivates his limitless.
you hate how cute he looks all pathetic like this, letting you throw stuff at him because he deserves this—he does—and just lying his face by your feet all pouty looking up at you. and you hate how his face actually makes you fold.
“you can sleep on my couch, tonight.” his head shoots up, dopey frog looking ass smile spreading across his face.
he ignores the rest of what you say unintentionally while he thinks about how so goddamn happy he is you don’t hate hate him.
he’s so fucking stupid.
not proofread ! btw this is not frog face gojo hate he looked his sexiest in shinjuku. and YES this is a reupload
you don't remember falling asleep, Satoru remembers everything
tw : non-consensual drugging, psychological manipulation, gaslighting, implied . . . abuse, loss of bodily autonomy . gojo satoru x m!reader [mdni.] 🪽
. ✦•┈๑⋅⋯⋅๑┈•✦
Thud.
The sound of your fist hitting the punching bag should be comforting.
Thud.
Again.
Thud...
Again. You can’t remember when you started feeling so much more nauseous.
You’ve been in the training for… how many minutes has it been? Maybe 10, maybe 20. The nausea just gets worse. It hurts when you bleed, and your vision is blurred. There’s red on your knuckles, blood, maybe. But there’s no pain to accompany, just this nauseous feeling that made you feel like you were drowning at all times, one that had accompanied you for the past couple of weeks. This feeling.. It isn’t new. It brings you back to–
No.
Yes.
Your mind betrays you, somehow managing to conjure images of your ex in your mind despite the haze and despite the fact that there was saliva dripping down the sides of your mouth. Ts like the two lobes of your brain are fighting, and whichever side wants to think of him wins.
God, it was just like this, wasn’t it? After his fist would meet your face, his foot to your stomach. You’d crawl on the floor like some sick animal, and it felt just like this. Like you were swimming in a pool of vomit.. You thought you were rid of that feeling. It had came back only when you started dating Satoru, coincidentally.
Oh, Satoru.. Mayb–
“You should take a break. Your knuckles are all bruised.”
As if on command….
A stronger wave of nausea washes over you, and you collapse onto the punching bag, once muscular hands quivering as you turn around. There he was. Satoru. Standing in the doorway. The ink-black of his blindfold not able to conceal that sour, unsettling glow of those eyes that he seemed to get around you. A coy smile at his lips.
“C’mere, darling. Let’s get you to bed.” He says, as he pushes off the doorframe and stalks toward your weak, pathetic figure. Those firm, unbroken hands wrapping around your weak frame, dragging you along to your room. You want to protest.. It’s afternoon, right? There's so much more time… so much more to do.. You open your mouth, but more saliva drips out, and you shut it the best you can. You hear other sorcerers’ voices as you two pass, but it all fades back into nausea.. Your brain.. Is just a sea of nausea; every boat that tries to pass sinks into the thick waters. However, one boat seems to cut through, like a knife through paper “I’ve told you, you shouldn’t push yourself.” Satoru clucks, a small smirk gracing his lips, “You should sleep more.”
Maybe he’s right.
Maybe you should.
Soon, after the long, sinking feeling that was being dragged to the room, Satoru pushes open the door. “We’re here, angel.” He sings and tosses your limp, ragdoll-like body onto the bed. Your head lolls on the pillow. “Disgusting. You really must sleep. Angel.” He adds the nickname like its an afterthought, an extra measure to make sure you don’t get upset at him. You drop your head onto the pillow, and Satoru clucks his tongue again. “Ah-Ah-Ah, Angel. Still need to take your pills, remember?” He lifts your chin, like a god to a desperate believer, or, his desperate angel. And he pours that same, sweet, sticky liquid mixed with crushed up tablets down your throat, most of it dripping down the sides of your mouth, mixing with the saliva.
Satoru sits on the bed, back against the headboard, as you crawl over and flop onto his lap. He wraps his hands around your frail body, and your body reacts while your brain sends failed warning signals. Signals to run. Signals telling you these arms can only mean harm, that its just restraint disguised as comfort, abuse, abuse, just like him, just like your ex–
You manage the power to quiet your brain.
Satoru would never hurt you.
You try to swallow down the rest of the pill-solution, trying not to choke, focusing on not looking pathetic. In this focus, you don’t realise how the rest of the room slowly morphs, stretches, changes into something… recognisable. Your body finally catches up to your brain, and you look up to where Satoru’s head should be, eyes wide, your heart suddenly beating fast like its waking up from that sullen daze. It’s not Satoru, he’s not Satoru. No. It’s him. Your ex. The one you hid from for months on end, the one who gave you all these sicknesses and issues, who reduced you from a grade 1 sorcerer to nothing but a pathetic weakling who needs The Strongest to do everything for him. No, No, NO. His face is all inked out, just those eyes, small and unblinking, staring down at you. You try desperately to pull away, but the ringing in your ears starts up again, mixing with your heart into one, swirling mess of your senses. Your ex’s grip tightens around you, a fully black smile appearing on his scratched face. He says something, but it fades into slop. He scowls. And before you realise, your lithe, weak body is thrown, thrown onto the cool floor.
Something rings through your body.
Not pain, not even the noise in your ears. No…
Angel
Angel
Angel
Angel
That nickname, the one only Satoru has ever called you, is ringing, surrounding, drowning you like a melody to the sick ballad that is your life. Your ex stalks closer, the bedroom fades to inky black, the final scene of the Hero so rightfully taking the life of the plagued. You can’t move, and all the force in your body is already being put to keeping your head up. He’s almost here, arm raising to deliver the final blow to the shell of who you’ve become, when warmth replaces the ringing.
“Still thinking about him, angel?” It's Satoru’s voice. Where is he? You can’t turn your head, can’t look, but you feel warmth around you. Hands on your shoulders. You try to move your eyes to his hand, but another one stops you, forcing your eyes to lull back towards your ex, who’s stopped, hand mid-swing, but is still smiling. Larger than before. “Still looking at him, too. You’re sick, Angel.” Satoru continues, voice stern like it's never been before.
“P-P-Plea-lease..” You choke out, trying to talk even as you feel like you're being drowned in an ocean of nausea, waves of pain washing over every attempt to speak. Satoru tched once more.
“Wake up, Angel.”
And just like that, it all disappears. Like his voice was the command it had all been waiting for. You’re back in the bedroom now. However, it’s much darker now. A dark that could perhaps rival the ink-black of the nightmare. You can only barely see two unblinking, pale blue lights in the midst of it all, as you choke on your own sweat and half gag, half pant. Only after you fall back into those heavy, chain-like arms do you choose to look up at those eyes, and your brain cuts through the thick mucus of emotions to ask itself the question that makes you want to give up all hope altogether:
How was he in my nightmare?
And then, before you can even blink , or at the very least, process how tired and sick you truly are, you feel Satoru smile. Its slow. Uncanny. Like some entity wearing the flesh of the man who protected you. His smile grows. How… how did he know you were thinking about him…?
“Ah.. go back to sleep, angel.”
And just like that, you pass out onto his shoulder. Like you’ve done dozens of times before.
But something stops you, right before you let the sleep Satoru claims is healing overtake you. It's a sense of… thought, perhaps. No, it’s something unamable. Something your brain seems to know but your body doesn’t. What you do know, what’s palpable, is that you feel the odd urge to.. Stay awake. Fake sleep.
So you shut your eyes, but don’t let the sleep abduct you. Strangely enough, Satoru doesn’t shift at all in the night. You move your heavy, weighted-down body enough to make it seem like you’re just shifting, when you’re really trying to glance up at him again in reality. And what you see disturbs you far more than any other thing that has been slowly breaking you thus far.
There, in the pitch black of the night, you can see those two glowing eyes wide open. Staring. At what?
YOU.
Somehow, he doesn’t notice you looking at him, but he does lean down to press a cold, seemingly required, kiss to your head. You wish you could fall asleep, but after seeing that sight, you don’t think you will.. You don’t want to. Unfortunately, the universe never seems to care about what you want, and those pills kick in.
…. You wake up, maybe.. 3 hours later, to the feeling of someone gently brushing their knuckles over your cheek. You still feel nauseous, but it's more of a lake than a sea. Still, your mind is hazy. Its.. Satoru, who’s touching you? “Angel!” he starts, and the nickname never made you want to throw up as much as it does now, “You’re finally up.” His tone is so cheery, his body so warm, that it makes you believe that his being in the nightmare was coincidental. That he may have just… Said your name in his sleep, and your nightmare reacted. “I made you breakfast. C’mon.” He gets up and walks to the kitchen. You try to follow suit, shakily getting up and staggering into the kitchen.
The kitchen feels wrong. Like its four white walls somehow know something you don’t.
You shakily, pathetically, sit at the counter, your shoulders slumped, head barely staying up. You stare at the plate Satoru had placed in front of you blankly, more focused on listening to him humming as he moves around and pours himself a coffee. The noise of the liquid pouring into the porcelain cup makes you want to vomit.
“You should eat,” Satoru says, breaking the silence, pausing to take a sip of his coffee. “Your hands were shaking a lot last night.”
…What the hell? You look up from the blank white of the plate.
“..Last night?” You echo his words, confused. He glances over to you, casually nodding and taking another sip. “Mhm. After the ‘nightmare’ .”
That makes the air leave your lungs, and your brain suddenly starts to dig itself out of that hazy state. Just a little bit. Barely anything, really.
You hadn’t said a word about your nightmare. Not since you woke up. You hadn’t said anything at all.
“I didn’t–” You have to take a pause, your mouth is dry. A sour taste arising in the back of your throat. “..I didn’t tell you what it was about.”
Satoru pauses, just for a second.
Then he smiles.
“You didn’t have to tell me anything.” He set his mug down in the sink and then leaned against the counter in your general direction, arms folded. He slid the blindfold up, his gaze sharp, focused. Trained on you. “You always react the same way in it, anyway.”
Your pulse starts ringing loudly in your ears.
“How?” You ask quietly, your voice soft. He tilts his head, like he genuinely needed to think about your question, but his eyes stay trained on you. “You get really still. Like you’re waiting for it.”
Waiting for it.
Your fingers dig into the fabric of your sleeve.
“And this time,” Satoru continues, voice gentle, “you’ve improved. You didn’t even scream when he threw you.”
Your stomach drops.
..That didn’t happen at all in the real world.
You can feel the pain again, the shape of the nightmare, the way your body remembers the cold of the black floor, the impact of your body against it, the ringing of your ears. “I never told you that,” you whisper, cold dread in your voice.
..There it is. That flicker again in those eyes. Much sharper, something amused. Something pleased, almost happy.
Satoru straightens immediately. “Angel..” He coos softly, walking around the counter to stand behind you. Too close. His shadow seems to be blocking any exit, warm and unescapable. Truly just a restraint now. “You talk in your sleep.” He reaches out his hand, his thumb brushing your chin to lean it to the side so you have to look at him. “You said his name..” he added softly, “over and over.” Your throat tightens even more. “I.. did..?”
“Mhm.” His smile is sweet, perfectly reassuring, like he knew he was winning. “And mine. You said mine, too.” Your vision swims, adding to all the other feelings that were plaguing your body. “This happens sometimes,” he continues smoothly. “Dreams can blur together when you’re this stressed.” He releases you, turning away to walk to the couch. “You’ve been pushing yourself too hard.. What did I say about not sleeping, angel?”
He knew. He knew you had stayed up.
He grabs his jacket off the couch. “We have a mission.” He reminds you lightly, “You don’t want to be late again, do you?” Again. His voice was… patronising. He walks to the door and holds it wide open. Patiently waiting as he slid his blindfold down once more. Your body moves on its own, you stand, and look down at your legs in awe. How could you still stand? But shake your head to yourself, and follow him into the hallway outside the apartment. The lights flicker overhead. You focus all your attention on the simple movement of walking, one foot in front of the other, but your thoughts travel anyway.
He didn’t just know what happened in your nightmare.
He knew when it happened.
He knew that you didn’t sleep.
He knew everything .
The hallway starts to warp around you.
Your steps echo far too loud, too slow, like your body is lagging behind your thoughts for the first time in months. Satoru is still a couple feet ahead, hands in his pockets, whistling under his breath without a care in the world.
And thats when it hits.
Not all at once – not panic, not yet. – but like a series of small, merciless thoughts.
He knew when you stopped fighting.
He knew when you froze.
He knew the noise you made when you were thrown.
And worse?
He woke you up.
It wasn’t the nightmare naturally ending on its own accord, no, it wasn’t your body jolting awake in fear.
It was—
His voice.
Wake up, Angel.
Your stomach twists violently.
The pills. The timing. The way the room was dark when you woke, but morning had come too fast. The way he was already awake. Already watching.
Your vision blurs.
And surely, like clockwork, the minute you thought of him, Satoru suddenly glances down at you. “Hey.” He says suddenly, “You’re pale.”
You don’t answer.
Your heart is hammering now, blood roaring in your ears like waves crashing against a jagged cliff. Every instinct you’ve ignored for weeks, for months, is screaming at once.
Run.
You choke on your words, but manage to gasp out a “I– I think I’m g-gona be.. sicK.” And before he can respond, your body chooses for you. You bolt. Sprinting like you never have before, not since you’ve become a weakling.
Your footsteps slap against the tile as you sprint – still half stumbling – down the hall, hand flying out to steady yourself against the wall at times. Your stomach lurches more; nausea shoots up your throat, sharp and sudden. Behind you–
“Angel?” Satoru inquiries. His tone is light. Curious. Not alarmed. “Where’re you going off to?”
You don’t answer.
You can’t.
You shove open a bathroom door and barely make it to the sink before your knees completely give out. You collapse to the hard tiled floor, gagging, retching – nothing coming up except for bile and frothy saliva, your body trying oh so desperately to purge something it doesn’t know the name of. Your hands are shaking so badly, but you hear the sound of notifications on your phone. They’re shaking so badly you nearly drop the device as you pull it out of your pocket. Three texts. All from Satoru. Your vision is clear enough that you can see each one:
Satoru: Where are you?
Satoru: Why did you run out like that?
Satoru: I found you. The bathroom, really?
Shit. Your fingers fumble, heart racing, breath coming in short, panicked pulls. You try to stand.
You don’t make it in time. The door swings open.
Satoru is already here.
He shouldn’t be. There was no time, no sound of footsteps.
He looks down at you with something like fond disappointment.
“Angel,” he sighs deeply, kneeling in front of your violently shaky form. “You really shouldn’t strain yourself.”
You try to scramble back. Your limbs refuse. “You put it together, didn’t you?” He murmurs, voice fond. His hand cups your cheek, thumb gently wiping away sweat. “That always happens eventually.” You open your mouth, but no sound comes out. “It’s okay,” he says softly. “That’s why I don’t let you stay awake long, Angel.”
“You never notice. But I’m always there. In the room, in your head.” He adds.
Your vision goes dark at the edges. Why was he blatantly admitting it? “It’s okay..” He repeats. “I know its hard when you remember things out of order.”
“That’s why you woke up when you did.” He adds. “You were starting to slip away from me.”
The room tilts. His arms slide around your back.
Effortless.
“I’m here to carry it with you, angel.” He whispers.
And the world drops out from under you.
…..
You wake up in bed. In the bed.
Dark. Thats the second thing you notice.
For a half second, it feels like mercy.
Your body is heavy and distant, numb in a way that almost resembles peace. Like sinking beneath warm water, far from noise, far from memory.
A nightmare. It had to had been one.
It’s over.
You finally breathe in, feeling the soft touch of the sheets under your fingertips, the mattress, the familiar shape of your room. Relief flares inside you, fragile, desperate.
And then it shatters, almost instantly.
The pills.
The running.
The tile cold beneath weak bones.
The way your body gave up before your mind did.
Your eyes snap open, forcing themselves to adjust to the darkness. Please, oh please.. Your mind silently begs the universe that what, who you think is here isn’t really.
But oh, has the universe ever been kind to you, angel?
Satoru is at the foot of the bed.
Not moving.
Not blinking.
Not even staring.
Waiting.
His eyes glow, bright and sharp against the dark. An impossible azure that seems to be too bright. His eyes are locked onto you, fully stretched open.
You feel it the moment you see it. The sense of being seen down to the bone, down to every vein and marrow. Claimed.
And oh if it hasnt set in already, you know now. This isnt a dream.
Your breath stutters.
Satoru exhales slowly, steadying himself. He doesn’t blink. “…You woke up.” He stated quietly. The way he says it makes your stomach drop– he’s evaluating.
You attempt to stand up.
Your muscles don’t respond at all.
His gaze flicks down, like he’s internally documenting the attempt, then lifts back up to your face. A corner of his mouth twitches, just a little, then stills – like he caught himself.
Its only then that you realize that his breathing is erratic.
“I. I was hoping you’d stay under longer,” he admitted meekly. “You’re easier that way.”
He moves closer, knees pressed against the bed. His breathing gets more erratic, but the movement was intentional. Not rushed. Not hesitant. The space between you two tightens.
And then you see it. Theres something in his hand.
Its long. Dark in the light. Held with deliberate care – It can’t be a weapon, but it isn’t harmless either. His grip is firm. Controlled. The familiarity makes you believe its more on the weapon side.
“I stayed awake,” He starts. He begins pacing, ever so slightly, eyes widening even more. “The whole night.” he pauses. “Watching you try to wake up.”
Your heart slams against your ribs.
His jaw tightens. The restraint he’s showing is clear now. The way his shoulders are set, like he’s holding something back. Like he’s holding himself back.
“You kept fighting the medicine..” he murmurs. “Even when your body was done.” His eyes flicker – briefly, dangerously. “I almost let you.”
The silence stretches as you gape at him, nodding his head ever so lightly to himself. “I didn’t.” He finishes his sentence. He moves closer, knees bucking against the bed. The mattress dips at the pressure of his weight.
You’re close. Close enough that you can see his face, now. The intensity behind his composure. The way his eyes don’t soften. His focus is unwavering. His chest is still heaving, and oh, you wish you could tell what he was holding. He looks more human now. “You scare yourself when you remember.. That’s when you get sick.” He says absentmindedly.
Your gaze drifts, unfocused. There was something in your body that was overpowering all sense and adrenaline, but you couldn’t put your finger on what.
And then your gaze lands onto the nightstand.
The pillbottle.
Its knocked over, on its side. Empty. Your heart lurches violently, and Satoru follows your stare.
For a split second, something sharp flashes across his face.
Satisfaction.
It's gone almost immediately.
“I gave you more than usual,” his tone is even, “you weren’t settling.” Your breath begins to shallow. “You needed it, you were spiralling.” He adds quickly, his own breath quickening, the object in his grip getting dangerously close to your foot. His free hand reaches out, fingers brushing your hair.
You flinch. His fingers pause.
A beat.
He continues his caress, slower.. Like he’s choosing each movement.
“Don’t do that again.” He whispers. “Don’t wake up.” His thumb presses against your pulse, “Go back to sleep, angel.”
The darkness takes you before you can fight it, your head dropping with a thud.
You weren’t meant to wake up.
wc: 3.7k . this work is a continuation of a previous drabble, meant for @dawnbreakerswife .
png cred: @todo269 on twt (idk I found it on pinterest)
mafia boss x daycare teacher au~🩸🌹
Happy Late Valentine's Day! I like to think they started the daycare together and help out troubled kids XD (also rlly wanted to draw gojo w/ scars 👀)
pixelskylines
areudirty
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kaledo-art
