hot girl mail: calling all the pretty girls with a craving for men with big arms and even bigger d***s. tokki’s here to bring all your sweet fantasies to life. grab a blanket, your fav plush and read to your heart’s (and pussy’s) desire >.<
⋆𐙚₊˚⊹♡
LOVER OF SAINTS WRITER OF SINNERS // dedicated to the 304s
about me, k-pop masterlist, anime masterlist, instagram, pinterest
ദ്ദി ˉ͈̀꒳ˉ͈́ )✧ author’s note: boldened italics are internal thoughts.
˙ . ꒷ ♜ ♞ ♝ ♛ ♚ ♝ ♞ ♜. 𖦹˙
the studio smells faintly of oil paint and turpentine, the scent of red wine, and the burning vanilla candle on the coffee table in the center of the room intermingled in the air.
seonghwa adjusts the canvas for the fifth time, the edges of the frame needing to align just so with the corners of the room.
it's a compulsion he can't escape: the need for perfect symmetry, balance, harmony. it's all he craves, and the only time he feels at ease, at peace, is when his hands move in rhythmic strokes, capturing something that feels like control.
like order.
you are the one who ignited it, the one who unknowingly became the center of his fixation. your silhouette, the pretty little dancer etched in his mind from the moment hongjoong had taken him to opening night of swan lake in seoul's art center.
a beauty like no other.
the way you move, so poised, so delicate, as if every muscle of your form is designed to create perfection. it's all he can think about when he closes his eyes. every pirouette, every arabesque, each breath you take underneath the ambient stage, all eyes cast upon you, as if what they'd been watching was the act of your very soul leaving your body, open for all to see.
for me to see, he thinks to himself, sipping on his glass of chapoutier, imported by an international acquaintance. me and my men.
the long, hall-like room is lined with masked men, balaclavas black in color, donned in pristinely tailored suits with firearms of all kinds situated at the hip, a red colored pocket square situated on their left pectoral, closest to the heart. meaning they were class byeong, or rather soldiers to janggi.
the door of the hall opens, men tilting at no less than a ninety degree angle in the form of a bow, hearing the sharp sound of hard soled shoes making contact with the marble flooring.
"you've been cooped up in this room for ages, jagi," hongjoong says, blond hair slicked back with not a hair out of place, paired well with thinly framed glasses, perched low on his nose.
"i think it's due time that you've gotten some fresh air."
he'd been dressed to the nines, armani menswear donning his body, two obsidian buckles running down his side to show off the dip of his waist, and rings situated of every one of his left hand's fingers.
as he rounds the easel, he takes in the sight of a larger version of seonghwa's most recent sketch, seeing the splotches of green and pink start to form the background of a bay of various delicate flowers.
"still on the girl, i see," he speaks in his ear, resting the curve of his chin within the crook of seonghwa's neck, making sure to press a quick kiss to the exposed skin. "should i be jealous."
seonghwa scoffs, rolling his eyes.
not when she's yours just as much as she is mine.
"how was it, yesterday, hm? i take it well."
seonghwa stops for a moment, sitting back in the chair to take a look at what he's done thus far. sleeves rolled up with his pallet in one hand whilst the other clasps firmly onto a small detailing brush.
"surprisingly, yes," he explains, resting his head within his warm palm. "quite intriguing, she is. found her crying outside all alone when she could've been basking in the fame and glory of her performance."
you deserve it all. why deprive yourself of what is rightfully your own?
hongjoong tuts, pink plush lips poking out into a faux pout. "and did you do as we spoke," he questions, grin akin to the cheshire cat as seonghwa nods.
"she took it. shouldn't be too long before she'll be falling right into our very palms," he smiles, staring longingly at the canvas, as if the love of his life had been plastered on it. "she's perfect."
its only a matter of time until you shall be knelt before me. i could almost smell the powder of your skin, dove.
"well, as much as i hate to pull you away from your art, we have more harping matters to attend to down in the garden," hongjoong explains, looking out of the window at the trees in the distance.
"and have you rounded up the chessmen," seonghwa asks, standing to his feet whilst untying his apron that's dotted with miscellaneous colors and hues.
the man hums as a response, hands now pushed into the pockets of his black trousers. "they're already down the corridor as we speak."
putting aside his color palette gently, he stands to his feet to trudge toward the marbled sink, scrubbing at his hands until the skin bleeds from the knuckles, porcelain beaded with rose and a black handkerchief soaks up the remnants, patting them dry.
"then i guess it's time," he says, pulling on his white ysl archive blazer that tailored to his frame perfectly. his slim waist and wide shoulders emphasized with the back of the piece donning the red crystal embellishment of the hanja symbol han, setting his place as janggi's general.
marbled black and white tiles kiss the crimson soles of louboutin shoes. the glossy, crisp click of the heels sharp, a warning, causing the hairs on the necks of many made-men to raise, spines tensing in attention.
there's an unspoken rule to never look the chessmen in the eye, always keep your chest high, eyes downcast until you hear them pass. they'll take it as a challenge and the saying don't bite off more than you can chew comes into effect immediately.
upon arrival to the corridor, hongjoong, the king, secured his glossy black glock to his waistband, calling the attention of his men, who wear pocket squares of the color green, also known as class jol, or pawns.
they serve a more straightforward purpose in janggi, one that is simply to follow the rules, do as told and move product from their base in seoul to surrounding regions for profit.
the garden, made up of thirty-two black tiled squares and an equal amount of thirty-two white tiles that make up the complete exterior of its structure.
an odd choice for anyone else.
for janggi, it was a battlefield.
every inch of the estate had been built to resemble a game long before the first move had ever been played. there was no room for improvisation.
only strategy. patience.
you'd love the roses, dove, he thinks to himself, crossing on leg over the other when the chessmen join him at the table amidst the center of the garden. specifically white ones that climb the wrought-iron arches, their petals untouched despite the summer heat.
he likes to think that you'd stop for a moment. just long enough to brush your fingertips over them before apologizing to no one in particular when a thorn nips at your skin, painting the white in red.
you have a habit of doing that.
not bleeding but apologizing.
as if the world deserves an explanation for every breath you take.
you shouldn't.
not when he'll soon be around to make sure you're his completely.
this should be yours. all of it. and you shall be mine.
the soldiers stationed around the perimeter lowered their heads as hongjoong pulled out a black king chess piece, situating it onto the glass held map of korea and each of its hubs. directly onto where they were: seoul.
conversation ceased immediately, the sound of the nearby violinist playing an arrangement of debussy's clair de lune softly.
around the elongated stone table sat the remaining chessmen: rooks, bishops, and knights donned in their respective white and or black.
yunho idly flipped through a leather-bound folder, glasses resting low against the bridge of his nose as columns of figures reflected in the lenses. mingi leaned comfortably against the back of his chair, long legs spread, oozing the confidence of someone who had never questioned his own place. san remained still, hands folded before him, his silence somehow louder than the others' voices. wooyoung toyed absentmindedly with a silver lighter, the lid snapping open and shut in an absent rhythm. yeosang pulled black gloves over his haves and separated hundreds from a pile of fifties, twenties, and tens. and jongho held a small porcelain figure of a ballerina within his palm, waiting.
no one spoke until hongjoong did.
"the ports."
only two words.
enough to command the room.
yunho slid several photographs across the polished surface of the table.
"our routes through busan remain stable. customs has become... considerably easier to persuade."
"and incheon?" hongjoong asked.
"a liability."
"then remove the liability."
there was no hesitation.
no one asked whether he meant the route or the people responsible for it.
within janggi, the distinction rarely mattered.
the discussion continued effortlessly, shipments replacing names, territories replacing faces. millions of won exchanged hands with nothing more than the movement of a finger across paper.
seonghwa listened. he always listened.
yet somewhere between projections and cross country allies, his attention wandered.
not to the numbers.
to you.
it always circled back to you.
had you gone home after your show, or had you stayed behind to give the stage one last performance before you tucked back into yourself akin to a rosebud.
he imagined you standing amidst the stage in your lonesome, center dead center in arabesque penchée until the arch of your foot ached.
you always ignored it.
such sweet torture.
you pushed yourself harder than anyone around you ever asked.
you called it discipline.
he called it devotion.
a similarity between you and i.
there was something almost admirable about the way you punished yourself in pursuit of perfection even when it's all over.
though, if he were honest, perfection had never been what fascinated him.
it was the moments between it.
the way your smile disappeared the instant applause faded.
the tears you believed no one had witnessed behind the theatre.
"...seonghwa."
hongjoong's voice cut cleanly through the haze.
every pair of eyes shifted toward him.
"the theatre. if we get it, it will be the largest hub in the country. no one will be moving more than we are.”
three simple words.
an invitation.
seonghwa's gaze lowered to the map spread across the table, fingertips resting lightly against the paper before nudging a crimson marker toward the heart of seoul.
"there."
mingi arched a brow.
"the arts district?"
"it has remained untouched for too long."
"because there was no competition. nothing worth the trouble."
a beat of silence followed.
"there is now."
no one questioned him.
no one except hongjoong and their eyes met for only a fraction of a second.
it was enough.
hongjoong understood.
he always did.
the faintest smile tugged at the corner of his mouth before he leaned back in his chair. “then we'll make our move,” he says with finality, moving the piece over to the star that marks the theater.
the room shifted immediately into discussion, routes being redrawn and personnel reassigned as though the decision had always been inevitable.
no one noticed the almost imperceptible smile that settled across seonghwa's features.
you would. eventually, at least.
this feeling you give me, it is a peculiar thing. it rarely announced itself. it simply rearranged my thoughts, my desires…until every move, whether i realized it or not, became one i’d already anticipated.
synopsis: when a ballerina finds herself becoming the muse of a man who’s lips candy coat his twisted desires and masks them as dreams, does she take the bait and fall prey to a gang of wolves, or does she run away like prey?
warnings: obsession, various mental illnesses, psychological thriller, graphic descriptions of death, violence, gangs, strong language, ddlg relationships, reverse harem, smut, mxm, threesomes and more, mature themes, and many others tba
ദ്ദി ˉ͈̀꒳ˉ͈́ )✧ author’s note: this book is solely based on my love for ateez iomt era. their roles are a crossover between janggi & chess! it will be a little diff from my usual writing as this one has much of a darker theme & will carry a lot of poetry, etc. heavily inspired by the neighbourhood & joe goldberg. so get your snacks, a warm blanket, and hold on tight bc this is gonna be a wild ride.
———
‘you never know what they might do if they catch you too early.’
synopsis: you’ve been coupled up with carl and the dynamic between you two is something pulled straight out of a fairytale. when the reminders of being on national tv, will you manage to continue being pg or will things escalate into something neither of you can control?
⤷ WARNINGS: small remnants of themes of dom/sub relationship, soft dom carl, praise, say less make outs, dry humping, groping, teasing, nicknames: baby, beautiful, pretty girl, good girl, mutual orgasm denial, size difference, dirty talk, public play
ദ്ദി ˉ͈̀꒳ˉ͈́ )✧ authors note: i can’t stop thinking about carl. ref do something immediately. give me aniyas game card.
———
it’s no secret that carl treated you a lot different than the other guys treated their girls in the villa. there was more of a passion driven punctuation behind each of his moves.
there’s an ongoing joke around the villa that secretly, the two of you were already married back at home with a shoreside beach house and two dogs that you liked to call your babies.
it went without saying that your connection was real, no matter how fast it may appear because when you’re on love island, time runs and at much faster rate, forced proximity and heightened emotions.
in the villa, it’s now around seven fifteen a.m., and that means the islanders are getting up and ready for a long day of lights, cameras, chats, and running on very little food while doing so.
the girls are in their beauty room, all sat spaced out around one long table in the middle, they do their makeup and hair, planning their outfits for the day with some small talk.
currently, the topic has shifted into they each think their couples are going so far since it’s now been some time after casa amor.
and after sharing their piece, they look directly at you.
“what,” you giggle, perfecting your lip liner before sliding your bonnet off your head to reveal chocolatey brown curls that fall mid back, complimenting your skin.
trinity squints her eyes at you, though a smile takes over the bottom half of her face. “you already know it ain’t no secret that you and carl are perfect for each other. like honestly, yall look so good together.”
you brush out your hair and define your curls, thinking about how even his name has your stomach fluttering and your heart racing. “i genuinely enjoy him. like his presence, his warmth, his scent, the way he looks at me…our conversations actually hold depth.”
you find yourself trailing off, smiling subconsciously remembering your night in say less. “i really like him.”
kayda adds, “i like him for you. he’s the prince charming to the fairytale you’ve been looking for.”
“it’s too early to start, yall. you know i will cry,” you say, and the girls abrupt into laughter.
not too longer after, the boys start sporadically coming in with plates in hand, some more decorative than others, but each being sweet gestures that earn kisses and hugs that vary in intensity.
and before you know it, carl comes in with a plate in one hand and a small bowl in another: colorful and meticulously thought out. as he greets the other girls in the room, his gaze lands on you, eyes rounding out at the sight.
“good morning, beautiful. i like this on you,” he says, complimenting the terracotta bandeau top and matching bottoms that make up your bikini. he sets the plates down in front of you and kisses your forehead simultaneously. “made you avocado toast and an egg on top. i got the yolk still a little runny because i know you like to dip your toast in it,” he continues and the girls aww at him, making the tips of his ears go a blushing pink.
“also cut up some fruits for you to snack on. made them into flowers because i can’t get you any real ones yet,” he adds with a smile that matches your own.
you stand to your feet in front of him, wanting to give him a proper hug as a thank you for how much effort he pours into you. “thank you, baby. i really appreciate it,” you say, standing on your tip toes to grasp onto his face to pull him into a kiss.
the height difference between you two is stark as even with the leverage you gave yourself, carl still finds himself bending down slightly to meet you in the middle in an effort to not have you strain yourself too much. his hands immediately meet your waist and pulling away from your lips proves to be the hardest thing he’s ever had to do. so he opts to look into your eyes when you part, rubbing his lips together that has remnants of your gloss as a reminder of the passion you share.
“oh my god, let me get a makeup wipe to get that off you,” you laugh, going to reach for them but are stopped by carl’s large hands grasping onto your waste just a little tighter to keep you in your spot.
“let it stay there,” he says softly, as if in a daze. “finish up, eat, talk a little bit more with the girls, and i’ll be working out. after that, i want to spend some time with you today. just us.”
you nod your head, letting out a small okay before you go to sit back down, not catching the peek look carl makes to your ass that sits up perfectly in your bikini, and it takes restraint to peel his eyes up fast enough.
he presses another soft yet lingering kiss to your forehead and makes his way out of the beauty room with a smile that goes from ear to ear.
“that was…wow,” kenzie says, tucking her lips in as her looks to the side. “felt like i was intruding.”
the girls laugh, agreeing.
and you can’t even put to words how you were feeling yourself. you just knew you never wanted it to end.
———
now completely ready, your mic pack is wrapped around your waist, heels that are comfortable enough to roam around the villa in are on your feet and you sit on one of the lounge chairs that surround the pool, holding light hearted conversation with trinity and bryce when suddenly, warm hands come up behind you and covers your eyes, catching you off guard.
“guess who,” the person says and easily said as done, you know its carl, holding his hands in yours as you turn your body over onto your stomach so you can take him all in.
you smile up at him, nose scrunching up at the sun that beams down on you and he takes one hand out of yours and shields the light from your eyes. “have a good workout,” you question, kicking your feet subconsciously as you speak because being near him makes you undeniably giddy.
“mhm, missed you though…” he responds and bryce and trinity playfully roll their eyes at the both of you.
trinity sucks her teeth. “man if y’all don’t go somewhere with that cute shit,” she starts, poking fun at you. “get on my nerves.”
carl uses that as a chance to make his initial intentions known. “well i guess this is the perfect time for me to ask if i can steal her for a chat.”
bryce nods, grabbing the pillow that you once held in your hands that dropped to the ground. “yeah man. make sure she comes back in one piece.” immediately after, he and trinity start giggling to themselves.
you give them a look. “stop being messy,” you say pointedly, standing your your feet with the help of carl who pushes his arm out for you to hold, grabbing your water bottle from your hands before leading you away from the pool and over to a spot that you two claimed as your own: say less, where you shared your first kiss outside of challenges.
he lets you walk over and take a seat while he rounds the other side of the couch, getting close enough to reach out and place a wide hand on your thigh, easing it over his lap.
“been waiting for this all day,” he starts, sighing as he sinks his fingers into the softness of your shimmery skin. his other arm wraps around the back of the couch behind you, running fingertips down your shoulder.
he likes to touch you as much as possible, not even in the way that is solely sexual, simply enjoying the feeling of you against him, feeling a connection that is both tangible and personal.
“yeah,” you hum, throning your head into his direction and kissing the tip of his chin, fingers finding purchase in the hairs that lay at the base of his neck. “i was too.”
“i really see us going well behind the villa,” he starts, taking a deep breath in to prepare for what he has to say. “what we have…it makes me feel whole.”
“i thought about this last night after our last conversation and the depth that we have, i don’t see anything coming between us. ever,” you respond, playing with his hair without even noticing. “you’re my prince charming, carl.”
he hooks a finger under your chin and guides you closer to him, the breath of his words pattering against your skin. “yeah, baby? that makes you my princess. gotta take care of you,” he mutters, finally pressing his lips to yours.
you swing your leg across his lap, straddling him completely as his hands magnetize themselves to your waist, fingers splayed out on your sides as the tips of his indexes brush the cup of your breasts.
the way in which the sound of your lips meeting in the middle, smacking and sucking goes in one ear and rushes down immediately to the heartbeat between your legs, thumping with an insatiable eagerness that urges you deeper, growing in intensity.
his tongue prods at your lips, practically begging for entrance within your own and you grant access with swiftness, welcoming him in with a flick of your own. it’s wet, obscene, the sound picking up in both of your mic packs, which is the least of your worries.
right now, all you could be bothered to think of is how the bulge between his legs seems to stiffen rapidly underneath your thin bikini bottoms, only covered by his own lime green swim trunks.
“mmm,” carl groans, adam’s apple bobbing when you part from him to lay kisses down the expanse of his neck, hips mindlessly grinding down against him slowly without rhyme or reason. “so good for me.”
“yeah?” you lightly grab ahold of his neck, angling his head away from you so that you could have more room to explore, finding every spot that leaves him like putty in your hands.
his grip tightens around you, breathing getting a lot heavier the more his tip drags down and catches between your center. “yeah, just like that, baby. you’re perfect. my pretty girl,” he mumbles, eyes pressed shut as his hands guide your movements.
you sit up, palms finding his shoulders for stability when his strength is shown between each pull of your hips towards him and back. he handles you as if you weighed no more than a feather, mind focused on pleasing you.
“com’ere, baby,” he says, bear hugging you with his massive arms that swallow up your smaller frame. “wanna be close to you,” he whispers into your ear hotly, his own hips grinding upward to meet yours.
“you…you make me feel s-so good.”
“gonna give you the world.”
“keep going for me.”
“yeah… just like that.”
it all escalates, just mere seconds away from forgetting all morals and doing the exact opposite of what you two said you would, which was to not go the full way while still being in the villa. you wanted to save some experiences for the comfort and peace of yourselves, away from the eyes of millions of watchers.
but that issue was solved for you when suddenly, the sound of a scream from the dock could be heard and the villa erupting into scattered groans.
“Y’ALL, I GOT A TEXT!”
“oh my,” you gasp, head turning into the direction of the pool area that you heard the call from and carl sighs, patting your ass twice, soft enough that it doesn’t hurt but firm enough to make you feel it.
lifting you by the waist, he moves you so that your seated beside him, grabbing ahold of a pillow to shove into his lap. “you wanna check on it?”
you nod, patting your hair down and he helps without a second thought, smoothing the stray hairs back into place. “i probably should. “trinity’s gonna start looking for me.”
knowing that he’s going to get carried away, he musters up the sheer willpower to press a kiss to your forehead instead of your lips, watching with hearts for eyes and a belly full of butterflies as you walk away from say less and into. the common area, out of his eyesight.
and he huffs, fixing the pillow in his lap before grabbing another, shoving his face into it as heat rushes to his face, red dusting his cheeks and nose in red.
ദ്ദി ˉ͈̀꒳ˉ͈́ )✧ late night sweet thoughts: thinking about the many ways in which carl handles you in the villa that exudes soft dom.
𝜗𝜚 — i keep your hands clean and your mind dirty.
˙ . ꒷ 🍰 . 𖦹˙
⤷ drabble
since carl walked into the villa, there had been a distinct and unspoken bond that glued you two together like nothing either of you had been prepared for.
silent, steady, warm.
it was quickly learned that he was the type that ran on acts of service:
he would stand behind you and use his large, callous yet oh so gentle hands to gather your hair into a ponytail when you get overheated under the fijian sun. especially during your morning workouts.
— “you want a break, pretty?”
opens your doors.
drops on one knee to take off your heels to hold them when he thinks you’ve been on your feet for too long.
holds an arm out for you to grab onto to guide you through the villa to soul ties or say less.
fills your hello kitty name plate water bottle if he found it getting too low.
— “need you healthy and hydrated for me, baby.”
lays out your pajamas for the night.
irons out your dresses for the evening.
but there was a flip side to that.
he was stern in the way he cared for you:
whispers in your ear to tell you to drink the water he gave you.
— “make sure you finish this for me by the end of the day.”
no matter how far away he may be, he makes sure to keep eyes on you from across the villa.
clenches his jaw and flexes his hands subconsciously whenever another man pulls you for chats.
smoothly takes away your wine mug when he sees your eyes get low and gives you a once over to let you know that you’ve had enough for the night. and by that look, you know not to talk back.
places a large hand on the small of your back to calm you down and takes over when the guy you coupled in the villa before him gets too comfortable with speaking to you disrespectfully.
— “the one thing you aren’t gonna do is sit in my face and go back and forth with her and expect me not to say anything. have some respect.”
grabs your face between his thumb on one side and the rest of his fingers on the other and squeezes softly to put your attention on him rather than down at your lap when you want to express how you feel.
— “hey, i want you right here when you’re talking to me. i’m yours so you look at me.”
ദ്ദി ˉ͈̀꒳ˉ͈́ )✧ late night sweet thoughts: thinking about dante sparda who fucks you and accidentally activates his devil trigger.
𝜗𝜚 — i keep your hands clean and your mind dirty.
˙ . ꒷ 🍰 . 𖦹˙
⤷ drabble
it’s no secret that when dante fucks you, it’s hard.
sloppy, deep, primal pounds to your pussy that leaves your legs shaking for days.
he doesn’t think, just keeps laying merciless thrusts to your core even when you reach a hand behind you to press to his lower pelvis, trying to get him to ease up.
his body dwarfs you from behind, wide shoulders still covered by his maroon trench coat and his heavy boots knocking against the tile flooring of your shared apartment. you hadn’t even had the chance to greet him when he came home from a particularly long mission he had taken up before he was on you, tugging your pretty pink satin shorts to the floor and bending you over the back of the couch.
“dante…wait, baby slow down,” you say, back arching up into his chest when he pulls your hair into a makeshift ponytail with his large hand, using it as leverage.
“what sweetheart? can’t take it,” he smiles, the shit eating grin on his face widening when he feels you clinch around him, only aiding his hips to draw into you quicker, heavier.
you groan and he lowers his stance, dropping his head into the crook of your neck, laying kissing to the soft, sensitive skin there and speaks into your ear. “aren’t you just the prettiest thing ever, baby.”
the cadence of his voice, playful and husky with need. he pulls your head back further, his free hand clasping around the front of your throat.
“fuck me back. come on. you got it mama.”
you stand on your tippy toes, rocking your ass back until you hear the bwap bwap bwap of skin meeting skin in hurried beats.
“that’s it. atta fuckin’ girl. fuckk,” he draws out, and it’s almost as if he feels an electricity thrum beneath his skin, an ache of something wishing so strongly to be let out.
so he overcompensates with pulling out out slowly but completely before plunging back in, rutting his hips like it physically hurt to not be inside you.
“keep it up and i’m gonna cum right here in your sweet lil pussy. that’d be perfect for me though. gives me something to eat when i’m done.”
you’re teetering on the edge of your orgasm, the delicious haze that comes from his relentless thrusts to your pussy mixed with the perfect amount of restriction to your throat has your head floating and cream coating the base of his dick.
“oh my god, i’m cumming! cumming…” you shake, body being held up by dante’s arms that move to bear hug you around the waist, leaving your legs dangling as he begins using you as a flesh light, pulling you up and down his dick.
suddenly, you feel him swell and stiffen inside you, but not the kind that just signals his release.
no, you feel ridges up and down his length that certainly weren’t there before and now that you’re paying attention, his arms are no longer just muscle, bone and porcelain skin.
it’s thick, red and black leather like skin all over. there’s a warm golden glow where his bright blue eyes used to be, horns and hard cut ridges. he’s much taller, morphing to stand at around 8 feet tall.
his demon form.
he’d activated his devil trigger unknowingly.
you gasp in surprise, holding onto his huge wrists that are extremely warm to the touch, but not hot enough to burn you.
he’s so close now that he can smell it.
loud growls rumble from deep in his throat, huffing out steam as he delivers one last rough pound to your pussy before he plasters himself to your back to keep his dick nestled deep inside you, spilling all he’s got deep into your cervix.
it’s only once he’s stopped cumming that he reverts back into his sapien form, softening back into muscle and his heartbeat regulates back into a rhythmic thump against your spine.
“welcome back, tay.”
he chuckles, “i never left baby. jus’ needed to let it out.”
synopsis: you & eren have been inseparable since kindergarten. as you navigate through college life that bond continues with pretty kisses and set routines. when you're in a bad mood on a busy day, eren has to remind you to not act out.
⤷ 8k words. ︴no usage of y/n, somewhat undergroundband!aot, touches of dom/sub relationship, brat tamer!eren, bratty/spoiled! reader, hyperfem! reader, fingering, reader is described as "little" and eren "big" but only in height, spanking, face slapping, reprimanding, car sex, exhibitionism, oral (f!receiving), dirty talk, praise, mating press, rough & unprotected sex, creaming, choking, hair pulling, backshots, very mean!eren, calls himself daddy towards the end, he has a filthy mouth, size kink, AGAIN...
〜 siri play “baby” by dj roots, camo, ‘n’ jey…
since the first "get to know you" day of kindergarten, you and eren jaeger have been inseparable. having clicked as soon as a light blue clad ren's eyes met pastel pink and bows you during lunch time.
he could vividly remember the sloppily written lettering of your name on the small "hello, my name is" sticker laid prettily on your left shoulder, the thick curls of your hair pulled back into a ponytail with pink ribbon decorating the base.
the way your eyes lit up as you opened your hello kitty lunch box to find it full of sweets and a quick, homemade meal with chicken cut up into the shape of a bunny. watching as you pushed the box between the two of you to share, chubby cheeks stuffed to the brim.
though, he loved to leave out the part where he cried as the school day came to a close, balling a tiny yet impossibly tight fist into the fabric of your dress to the point where he had to be pried away by his mother and promised that he'd see you the next day.
as time went on and in middle school came, you two would be seen attached at the hip: walking to school together with eren carrying your bag and tying your shoes, bringing you to class, and so forth and so on.
it was safe to say that from then on, the pair of you had wreaked havoc on each of the poor teachers of your school careers; gossiping in the back of class, being utterly unproductive during group projects, and many, many others that led to weeks spent in the library after school for detention.
see, as you graduated to high-school nothing changed.
sure you'd grown far maturer and became introduced to a world full of negative influences, but the bond between you two never wavered. the red ribbon of fate still connecting you thoroughly by the pinky finger.
eren became quarterback on the school’s football team and you a cheerleader, but your set routine as best-friends lingered-strengthening even.
he began growing protective, seeing as you were the same pretty little innocent thing you'd been since elementary, still dressed in pink and bows but now catching the unwanted attention of the outside world.
and when rumors of the two of you being together found themselves slithering into the minds of the student body, ren didn't do a thing to stop them, reveling in the comfort it gave him with insurance of your safety.
it even landed you a golden spot in the high-school yearbook of superlatives, both your names written in bold letters under 'Most Likely to Stay Together After Graduation.'
and stay together is exactly what you did.
fast forward to your senior year of college, it's the first semester and you and eren share a small yet comfortably luxe apartment in the heart of osaka, decorated to a distinct mixture of the two of you-lots of greenery and wooden accents for eren with pink throw pillows and hello kitty shaped plant pots for you.
it's endearing, seeing traces of your familiarity and passion like a juxtaposition throughout the home. wouldn't want it any other way.
about nine thirty is when you pop up out of bed, your hair strewn about your head askew to the left, proof of your habit of being quite the wild sleeper.
you make quick work of hopping the shower and starting your daily routine, lathering yourself in your favorite honey vanilla lotion and layering the scent with a lightly scented perfume.
by the time you throw on a matching set and your favorite robe, fuzzy slippers on your cold feet before trudging into the living room, you catch sight of eren bare chested with a pair if oversized plaid pajama pants hanging low on his waist, a watering pot in hand as he tends to the plants he likes to call your children.
the morning sun beams brightly between the white, linen curtains of the room, the harsh light bothering your eyes and makes you bring a nimble hand up to try and block it out whilst grimacing.
"and she finally awakes. morning, baby," he smiles, eyes low but ever so expressive as he looks at you with nothing short of adoration.
"there's tea and oatmeal for you on the counter. go on and eat for me, okay?" eren's always been a morning person, finding himself awake at the ass-crack of dawn to read, meditate, and do a little bit of writing here and there.
so it doesn't surprise you that he's chipper so early, cheesing, voice a little louder than intended. though, it does make you grumble with annoyance and pout, mood sour as your head pounds.
not saying much as you walk to the marbled island counter that sits dead smack in the center of the kitchen, your kuromi mug steaming from the peach tea he'd made and next to it, a brown wooden bowl and spoon filled with warm oatmeal that's topped with berries, honey, and vanilla granola—just to your liking.
"remember, we have to stop by the studio to meet up with the guys today," he's calling out to you. "gotta leave out by eleven."
"i know, ren," you grumble, snarky and mean but you really don't mean it. you just weren't feeling the best and your words escape you without the slightest thought of how they might sound.
"don't start. fix the attitude before we leave out," he says, voice stern and commanding as he washes his hands, drying them before leaning back onto his palms when he goes to glare at you shoveling food into your mouth.
you pause, cheeks round and swollen with oatmeal. "'m just tired."
"i know, princess. once we get back home, you can take the rest of the day resting up," he's promising, kissing your forehead from across the counter, and reassuring you that it'll be quick.
you hum and eren finds it all too amusing when you stomp your little self over to the sink, sulking and pouting as you wash out your dishes.
it takes everything in him not to take matters into his own hands and straighten you out right then and there. spanking your lil ass raw 'till you remember your manners but it's early, and hopefully the combination of food in your system and sun on your skin puts you in a better mood.
you drag your feet up the stairs, the sound of your slippers scrapping against the wooden flooring making him groan. "pick up your feet," he says, scowling when you merely put your middle finger up in his direction.
that's strike one.
at the vanity situated on your side of the room specifically dedicated to you and your makeup process, you sniff whilst putting the finishing touches to your beat: gold highlighter in your inner corners and a black wing on the outer, pink blush on your cheeks. you put extra attention on your makeup today, hoping that it would help with your mood.
just a heads up, it didn't.
eren stands dressed in all black: a pull over hoodie with a white tank underneath that's peeking out at the bottom, oversized, black sweatpants, a leather bomber jacket, and pairs it with low top, nike blazer courts. he leans against the door frame with crossed arms, admiring as you line your lips with brown and fill the inside with pink gloss.
"how are you feeling," he asks as he makes his way toward you, hands grasping onto your shoulders when he stands behind your chair. you make eye contact in the mirror, him almost immediately catching sight of your lip jutting out on instinct.
"do you think i look pretty?" you disregard his prior question, responding with your own because you need confirmation on days that you feel like shit.
he smiles at your reflection, bending down to speak into your ear and takes pride in seeing your reaction. squirming in your seat. "the fuckin' prettiest, baby."
"do you really think so?" he coos at your round eyes that stare back into his within the mirror.
"i know so, my love."
you commend him for his efforts but it just wasn't enough. you were too far deep.
"god, i just want this day to fucking end," you say and it makes ren press his lips together and you know why. he's always hated when you cursed, believing that pretty girls shouldn't say ugly words, and he's right, usually is. but right now, you're blind to what differentiates ugly from pretty.
the angel on your shoulder tells you to revert back to old ways, fall into line and be his good girl for the day, but the devil on the opposite reigns supreme, poking and stabbing at eren's buttons that are clearly lined with the warning, "do. not. touch." it's just so tempting.
"what'd i say about today?" you hear his voice ask, eyes now low and mean, just waiting for you to give him reason to take you over his lap. you're working your way up to strike two. just about at one and a third now.
"to not act out and to fix my attitude." you roll your eyes as you recite the words, standing before nudging him out of the way so you could get pass. grabbing your bag, you leave the room with knitted brows. "ugh."
it takes eren a moment to gather himself. you hear him speak a few sharp words under his breath before bringing the skin of his lip between his teeth to stop himself, feeling the pot start to boil with each passing moment. but he breathes, tells himself that this run should be quick, the faster it goes, the quicker he can get you in bed and figure out a way to make this tantrum go away.
ren can't help the clenching of his jaw, chewing on his tongue as he heads downstairs, your jacket in his hand. taking care of you, he helps you work your arms into the sleeves of it: his old letterman jacket from highschool in which his name decorates the back with the number "26" underneath it.
his eyes peer down at you when he goes to open the door for you, shutting it and making sure to lock it once you know you have everything, because you're known for leaving things behind and throwing an absolute fit once you realize.
there's been so many times where you've been late for reservations, gatherings, events, because fifteen minutes into the ride, you're only then noticing that you left your lip gloss on the kitchen counter and proceed to cry until he's forced to drive back to get it.
the boys have always told him that he's spoiled you rotten. giving you anything you could ever ask for at the drop of the dime just because he likes it when you're smiling from ear to ear. he's been giving you your way for the longest because you're so pretty when you look up at him with awaiting eyes.
it's been so long of catering to you, expecting everything to fall into the palms of your hands. it's gotten so bad that whenever you hear the word 'no' directed towards you, you're immediately storming off and throwing a hissy fit.
it's not your fault for being a princess, is what he likes to say. trying to justify both his and your actions but when push comes to shove, there's no other possible outcome other than being faced with the fact that you're a spoiled little brat and it's ultimately his fault.
that's why you huff when he goes to grab at the passenger side door handle just so that you wouldn't have to—just because you know you've got him so tightly wrapped around your pinkie finger.
he tugs at it, waiting for you to tuck your head under the frame and when you don't, he's bringing his free hand to the crown of your head, pressing down to force you into the plush of the seat as if he were a cop detaining a suspect before slamming the door shut.
there's nothing that you want more than to curl up into a ball and run back into the comfort of your own home, hands tightening into little fists and they rest on your thighs.
you can't help but take notice on the way eren's jaw bulges from its clinching, pearly white teeth grinding because he's this fucking close to being mean. this close to leaving you crying because that's the way you're trying to make him feel—like a fucking asshole.
he doesn't understand it. eren can't see to understand for the life of him how a girl so pretty can be so utterly filled with the overwhelming urge to be such a brat despite getting everything she's ever asked.
you wanna go out shopping for your girls trip next month? one that he's funding? yeah of course, he's holding your bags and trailing behind an empty handed you from store to store.
you've been looking at that one dior bag for the longest, right? the next day, you see a pretty box wrapped up in a pink bow with a bouquet of dozens of your favorite flowers resting in the bed when you come back from your weekly luxury spa visit.
but when he asks you for one thing. that being to put your attitude aside for just a couple hours, he's met with nothing. nada. zilch.
it infuriates him. the sweet, round eyed eren with a thick wallet and a means to please you starting to fade into the version of himself who doesn't put up with your bullshit and isn't afraid of putting you in your place.
it's a rarity that you're in trouble-or even falling close to it. he's always been patient with you, able to talk to you in just the right tone to hold you off. gets your head floating and molding you until you break away from that more brattier side of you.
it's easy to do but quite frankly, eren is becoming fed up with your shit.
the night before, you had been fine. he'd held you in his arms, kissed both sets of your lips as a reward, whispered in your ear sweet nothings until your eyes fluttered shut. everything was perfect. absolutely what could've changed overnight?
when he made it to the driver's side of the car, lips pursed shut and pads of two fingers to the feature as he pulled out of the parking spot, you found yourself practically compressed against the passenger side door, head leaning against the cool glass, trying to melt and camouflage into it.
you know he still cares when he motions with his fingers and tells you to put something on the radio, eyes never moving from their position on the road.
and you do so, otw by khalid sounding from the speakers. it's mellowing, soothing. has the knot at the small of your back diminishing, making you sigh as you watch the blur of tall buildings and street lights shoot past you.
it's a fairly quick ride to the studio, being midday on a tuesday, everyone's already at work so traffic is minimal. eren's easily able to put an extra force behind his foot on the gas, weaving in and out of lanes because the streets are pretty much dead.
parking in the small lot situated at the back of the building, ren takes a look to his right to see you dozed off. eyes closed, hands folded in your lap whilst your neck bends uncomfortably to the right.
gently, he rests his hand on the side of your face, softly hoisting you up before unbuckling your seatbelt. "mama, we're here," he speaks just above what describes a whisper.
it takes a moment for your eyes to adjust, squinting once they finally open before you realize a tense groan. "mm, ren, can i just stay in here," you ask, comfortable in your spot. it's not like you were going to do anything in there but sit off to the side. could he just let you be?
"i don't know how long i'll be here for. you have to come in," he's saying, shaking his head back and forth. one good look at the way your face morphs into an unfitting scowl, he knows he's gonna have to take a different approach.
he removes his keys from the ignition, stepping out of the car before he's rounding the hood and making his way to your side. you watch as he opens the passenger door, leaning his body forward to where his upper half is in the frame, face now leveled with your own and just a few inches away. so close that you can smell the mint on his breath.
"don't get in here acting a fucking fool," he says, gripping into your chin when you go to turn your head the opposite way. his tone catches you off guard. only then do you realize that he's had it about up to here with you.
you pull your face away from his, only to get back a thick hand wrapping around your neck, fingers pressing into the base tightly to have you drawing closer and closer. his lips ghost your own as he's growing more stern and stern. "do it, and see what happens. i'll embarrass you."
"okay, ren." your eyes water, but he knows it isn't real. big, fat crocodile tears because you know its his weakness. you think they'll work but he's too far deep, grabbing your hands to guide you from the car's seat.
still, your lip is jutted out in a pout, allowing for yourself to be pulled up to the stairs of the studio, dark double doors opening before you in which you're stepping into with your free hand pulled into a fist.
the other six that make up the band are already situated in their designated booth, engaged in playful banter as they wait for the leader.
upon walking into the room and immediately catching sight of two free chairs seated to the far left that you just know eren will be pushing you into, you quickly decide against it when you see an empty chair next to armin. you're then pulling your hand from his larger one to make a beeline directly to it.
he cuts his eyes, leaving the situation alone for now. he'll let you think you've gotten under his skin when in reality, you're just digging yourself deeper into a problem you'll have to face once you get home.
at this point, it's inevitable.
armin stifles a laugh when you make your way over. pretty face balled up tightly and he thinks you resemble an angry little bunny. "hi, pretty," he greets, smiling when you sit and wave.
"eren, what'd you do to her," armin turns to ask eren, a ball point pen pressed to his small notebook in which holds the lyrics of their upcoming album. "looks just about ready to knock someone's head clean off."
that makes them all laugh and you have to grab onto the underside of the chair to stop yourself from calling an uber and leaving. pronto.
its humiliating when eren chuckles, sitting down and making himself comfortable on the couch in which onyankopon and mikasa do too, legs parted with his arms crossed at his roomy chest. "she wouldn't swat at a fly, let alone lay hands on somebody," he speaks, having zero regard for the way you glare at him from the other side of the room.
you want to say something, want to argue back with a sharp tongue and harsh words but eren's voice back in the car played repeatedly in your mind, the look in his eye when he grabbed onto your throat. it was grounding enough to have you pursing your lips to keep them shut.
leaning back in your chair, you pull out your phone, your case glimmers and gleams, rhinestones catching onto the iridescent light illuminating the room, and eren watches as you type, biting down on his tongue while a smile forms on your pretty lips.
you're typing away to someone with eager eyes, fingers tapping and your nails clanking against the screen and it drives ren mad. so utterly and completely insane. it's a little irrational but you probably could've blinked in the wrong way and his top would pop the fuck off.
you've made his patience wear dangerously thin. just a little more pressure until it snaps.
an hour and a half passes, full of paperwork signing and a few touch ups to certain tracks here and there. at least forty-five minutes of it was spent with you giggling under your breath at whatever pops up on your for you page and direct messages from friends.
a few times, you even tilted your screen into armin's direction in between topics to show something you found funny in which he would always watch and chuckle before shooting a quick glance into his friend’s direction, welcomed with the sight of slitted eyes and a clenched jaw, and he's quick to put two and two together.
when connie finishes playing the tracklist for their new album, they decide to call it quits, even so much as setting up an impromptu hotpot and karaoke night for celebration amongst the guys.
but unfortunately for you, eren has other plans. "can i rain check tonight," he asks before continuing. "i have to have to get home and do some work around the house."
your eyebrows shoot up, dropping your phone into your lap to look at him incredulously knowing damn well it's a lie, but you keep your mouth shut and wait until they exchange words, saying that it's no problem and to get home safely.
"don't touch me," you say, wincing when eren tightly grips onto your forearm, neck bulging with veins as he seethes.
you're done for.
each of his buttons are pressed, control switches in gear—set in stone. there's no running or hiding because now, you're on strike three and no amount of faux tears can get you out of the lesson you're about to get taught.
"walk or i'll throw your lil ass over my shoulder," he says, voice deep, demanding, and leaving no room for back talk, and you can't make space, either. "and i dare you to try it. i really fuckin' do."
it has you pressing one foot in front of the other, legs shaky whilst your knees threaten to buckle beneath you. seems you might've bitten off way more than you could chew.
you and armin lock eyes and immediately you're met with a smile so sickly sweet because he knows that'll be that last touch of gentle you'll get. the dark glint in his friend’s eyes tell him everything he needs to know.
you're fucked. both literally and figuratively.
good luck, he mouths over before you're being dragged out of the studio by the intense grip on your arm. you'll need it.
you shake in eren's hold, back flexing away from his touch when his hand moves to the back of your neck, clutching tightly. it's grounding. keeping your head from straying too far from the harsh reality of the situation at hand.
"been acting out your fuckin' ass all day," he speaks, fumbling with his keys to press the unlock button. but he waits to put you in the car, turning you around so that you face him.
you're able to see the skin of his forehead crease in annoyance, his thin eyebrows that arch with anger, and his lips that utter sharp words.
"you're being mean, renie. don't be mean to me," you say, thinking it's gonna get you somewhere but news flash: it doesn't.
"i'm being mean," he laughs but it's humorless. tongue drawing circle on the wall of his inner cheek to stop himself from causing a scene. "you've been mean to me this entire morning and when you finally get me to where you've wanted, i'm being mean?"
"get in the fuckin' car." when you go to interject, he's grabbing your face, digging his fingers into the hollows of your cheeks so that your lips jut out in a pout. "don't talk to me."
he then nudges you away, going to round the trunk till he's getting situated into the driver's seat, not even opening your door like the gentleman he is. because right now, fiery hot annoyance bubbles within him and he's ready to put you in your place. asap.
you huff as you get into the passenger seat, slamming the door shut at your side before your arms are crossing over your chest that heaves, pretty tits pressed against your forearms and it takes everything in eren not to pull your top down and suck on your pebbled nipples right then and there.
"don't slam my doors. you know how i feel about that," he speaks, not bothering to look at you because he knows it'll have him crumbling. he needs you to learn. to learn that there's a time and place for everything. and the day that he actually needs to get things done is absolutely not one of them.
"i honestly don't care," you say, looking out the window so that you wouldn't have to face eren's intimidating eyes. "wouldn't be slamming shit if you just left me home."
that's when you feel the press of eren's nike clad foot to the gas pedal. "you keep talkin'," he grunts out when the driver beside him honks, continuing when he bobs the lanes in order to get around them. "keep fuckin' digging a hole you can't cry yourself out of."
"but imma tear your lil ass up when we get home. don't even worry about it."
your lips part into a silent gasp, eyes widening. "what, that's not even fair. you've been acting like an asshole to me all day! i just wanted to stay home and get some rest because my head has been fucking pounding, eren."
"i asked you to do one thing. one thing only. gave you tylenol, fed you, and asked you to do one thing as simple as be good and you do the exact opposite." his fingers tighten around the steering wheel, knuckles turning white. "and now you wanna cry wolf because you're in trouble."
he's chuckling, low in a deep rumble from the center of his chest. you can feel the irritation bubbling up, rising to his neck in the form of stubborn veins and its suffocating. too much.
it's only when the car slows to a stop at a red light when eren acknowledges you, looking in your direction with mean eyes. "get in the backseat," he's saying as he presses down on the lock of your seatbelt, hearing the familiar 'click!' before he's roughing you up. "hurry the fuck up."
tears swell your eyelids at his tone. "stop cursing at me," you retaliate, voice small though the increasingly wet patch in your panties is thick, filled with arousal because the duality of him has you spinning. it's satiating.
"you only seem to listen when i speak to you like this so get in the fucking backseat. now."
it has you scrambling, your miniskirt catching onto the rounds of your ass when you go to climb over the center console and into the back, legs feeling like jelly but it feels so good.
the light turns green and off ren goes, speeding down the streets but one arm reaches behind his seat that's already slightly pushed back to accommodate his size, making it easy for his hand to grasp onto your ankles placing them onto the console before he's pulling down your skirt, never removing his eyes from the road. he's always been good at multitasking.
"get her ready for me," he says and now it's crazily obvious why he put you there. the backseat windows are tinted, only being able to see out but not the other way around. it block the view of inside the car, giving the perfect place to have you spread out and completely at his mercy.
you give him what he wants without needing further instruction, fingers shooting down to pull inside the skimpy cloth you call underwear and immediately being met with cool air directly on your clit. it makes a shiver run up your spine before you're spreading your pussy lips open, fingers in the shape of a 'v' as they glisten with your honeyed slick.
sucking in a breath through your front teeth in the form of a hiss, you and eren lock eyes in the overhead mirror, and it makes you gasp when his free hand slaps at your clit, palm hitting repetitively until you squirm.
"ren, rennie, i'm sorry, baby," you whine and hiccup, closing your legs over his hand, leaving it between your thighs that spasm from the sensitivity of your clit. but you forget eren's strong, easily able to get himself out of it by nudging them apart with his elbow as if it was nothing.
"hold them the fuck open. stop playing with me," he speaks and it's so mean but nonetheless has you growing wetter and wetter with each passing moment.
you put your forearms underneath the backs over your knees, toes curling when they press up against the seats up front. so undeniably spread open that it's degrading.
simultaneously, your fingers resume their thumbing at your pussy, tips catching at your entrance before dipping in, making room for the thickness of eren's dick that's soon to come.
the squelching is obscene, loud over joji's 'night rider.' your pussy talks, singing along to the beat that plays lowly through the speakers. you wish you could block out the sound, finding it embarrassing as is.
the pace you build up is slow but ever so needy, clenching around your digits and they drag in and out before scissoring, stretching it out. but you need more, need to feel eren. have him inside you.
so you beg, plead, "please, ren. touch me, please. i'm so sorry." tears run down your face, eyeliner dripping already because you've never been able to handle what you dish out, and eren finds it funny. the irony.
the way you're so quick to break, being so apologetic and sweet when beforehand you were nothing close. again, eren can't help but laugh.
"you already crying?" and in response, you nod your head, still fucking yourself as you spew. "i'm so sorry. i-i didn't mean it."
his hand finds home between your legs and you think he's gonna slip his fingers in but are sadly mistaken when another forceful slap is laid to your cunt. "shut up. i don't want to hear any of that shit. you wanted this so deal with it."
"but-"
he cuts you off before you can get the rest of your words out. "but nothing. hush." by then, he's already pulling into the garage, car being placed in park.
but when he goes to step out, he merely uses the control gears on the side of the seat to maneuver it closer to the steering wheel, providing more space for him to join you in the backseat.
when he rounds the trunk of the blacked out audi, pushing himself into the seat behind the passenger's side, he's pulling you to him, legs dangling off the side of his wide shoulders. "been acting up all day," he mumbles, lips puckering up but they don't meet the ones north. they trail downward, latching onto your clit, sucking so that he can feel it rub against his tongue.
you moan, back arching against the coolness of his dark interior, hands trying to clutch onto him, to push or pull, give some sort of relief to the emptiness of you but he's grabbing your wrists, pinning them to your stomach. "you don't get to touch me," he speaks, the breath from his words battering up against your core, leaving you shaky and defenseless.
he licks a stripe before spitting, messy in the way he eats because he wants you dripping, easy enough to slide in and out of without working up a sweat. eren plans on wrecking your shit, leave you walking funny for days, a reminder that pretty girls don't cry when they get what they deserve.
you have no choice but to sit there and feel him spit, suck, lick, repeat, over and over again, the sound of his smacking and you gushing loud in your ears until your muscles flex, ankles crossing over one another behind eren's necks, the heels of your feet digging into his back.
"stay right there. please, please, please," you cry, hands thrashing in his unrelenting hold and best believe your pleas aren't anywhere near quiet. it has him bringing his free hand up to your mouth, middle and ring fingers tapping on your glossy lips.
you know what he wants, so like the good girl you're trying so hard to be, you open, letting the pads of his fingertips rest heavily on your tongue before you're wrapping your lips around them, tongue swirling around the length of them as a welcome.
he's momentarily given you a reason to shut up, fucking your mouth with his fingers whilst he eats your pussy like it's the last supper. eren has always found pleasure in pleasuring you, loving the way you tasted like honey on his tongue, the way your moans would pull him in like a siren would a sailor. it was a danger, the way you had him wrapped around your little finger.
your thighs tighten around his head in which he's blind to, the long strands of his hair trapped beneath the sensitive skin there but still, he never lets up his tongue's dipping into your entrance, licking into your gummy walls that clench as you near your orgasm.
you twitch, gargle around his fingers that press to the back of your throat until you're drooling, unable to speak. but you try, incoherent babbling mixing with the sound of eren between your legs.
when your spasms grow quicker, he's forced to let go of your wrists, palm striking down onto your hips that rut on his face, dragging your clit up and down his nose, and it's all too much. way too much. so involuntarily, you're stopped, body pausing in the shock of your orgasm that wrecks through you without warning.
"did i tell you to fuckin' stop? keep going," he spits, spanking your ass and urging your forward, drinking up every bit that pours from you.
the way you bunch up his jacket in tight fists is endearing, almost getting eren to reach up and smash his lips onto yours but he stops himself, keeps up his hard exterior because he knows he needs to put you in your place. learn your lesson.
"so good, ren. right there," you whine, head thrown back as he cleans you up with his tongue, lapping up any left over so that he can slide your underwear and skirt back into your lower half before bringing your face up to his with a grounding grip onto the column of your neck.
his lips hover over your own, practically daring you to kiss him. you know better though. his mean gaze on you says that you're in for a real treat, so you wait for him to speak, too scared to break the silence that blankets you.
"you've been out of line ever since you woke the hell up. i'm tired of you acting like you don't know shit."
"but i apologized," you say, eyes round and compliant as you look at him. you're a complete 180 of how you acted this morning. now docile in the way you shrink under his gaze.
his palm smacks against your cheek, stinging hotly but it adds fuel to the fire, makes your stomach full with butterflies. "mhm, but you don't mean it. just saying what you know i want to hear." eren's tugging you, putting his muscles to work as they sit you upright. "get out."
he's opening the door, ducking down in order to push himself out of the frame, and he doesn't look back because he knows you'll follow, making sure to press down on the lock button situated on his keys once he hears the shut of the car door.
your hair is messy, matting up in the back because of the friction between the strands and the fabric of the car seats. the wobbliness of your legs lead to the stairs, walking past the threshold and into your home in which eren holds the door and waits for you to get in just before gathering the thick strands at the back of your head, using it as leverage to urge you deeper into the home.
you gasp at his handling, his chest clung to your back as he pushes and pulls. you can't help but bring your hand up to his, clutching onto his wrist to try and ease his grip.
his breath is hot on your ear, whispering right into it as he bends forward to meet your level, ass pressed against his upper thighs while the growing bulge in his joggers swells. "by the time i get up those steps, you better be just how i want you."
and you bolt, quick to kick your chunky shoes from your feet and pull the jacket from your arms, left in a little skirt and an oversized soccer jersey, though you don't get time to dwell before rushing to take it all off, left bare save for the pink set of your bra and panties. the thickness of your curls resting at your shoulders.
heavy feet fall onto the wooden flooring of the hall, partly creaky, or maybe it was the sound of your heart thumping in your ears. eren makes his way closer to your shared bedroom, his own outwear discarded and now left in a white tank and his bottoms.
your eyes are round and glassy when you look at him, regret all over your features because you know you're in for it. the way he rounds the bed to sit at the side of it before beckoning you over to him with the simple gesture of his fingers.
he wrangles you over his lap, right arm wrapping around your waist to keep you in place while his left hand rubs at the smooth skin of your ass before striking down, the smack so hard that it has you yelping.
"y'so pretty baby but act so fuckin' bad," he speaks, unwavering when he continues to reprimand you. "make it so hard for me."
"you know i hate seeing you cry."
you call out for him, grabbing onto his calves for stability, thighs shaking in delicious pain because while it hurts, it feels so good, adding to the slick between your legs. the tears begin to run for the third time in the last half an hour, hands going to push at his but you're being stopped with the one along your waist, pinning your wrists to your lower back.
"you've done enough. be a good girl, would you," he questions but doesn't wait for an answer. "'s exactly why you're in this predicament now." ass perched up while he spanks it raw. “i don’t wanna be mean.”
his hits are rough and repeated, taking the time in between to massage them just to take that momentary relief away once more at the bat of an eye. he even slides his finger between your folds to pick up a little bit of your wetness so that he can smear it across your ass.
eren's hungrily listening to every whine and scream that he draws from you, his cock unbearably stiff within his boxers, tip leaky and with a pinkened blushed undertone from its neglect.
it's only when he's done with you that he brings it to attention, pulling at the back of your hair to pull your face up level to his, eyeliner dyed tears streaming down your cheeks and he coos, kissing your forehead, but still, never touches your lips.
he knows you need it, the way your eyes are cloudy, waiting for him to get you exactly where it's easy to break to down: giggly and ever so moldable. pushing down your more bratty side and swapping it out for the good girl.
so he places you on the bed, sits you in his previous position whilst he rids himself of his clothes. chest and below bare and tanned with the small ribbon bow tattoo that represents you resting on his left pec, kneeling down just enough so that he can unclamp your bra and discard your panties before pursing his lips to leave a glob of spit catching onto your entrance, adding to your already drenched cunt.
"needed me, baby? you needed me to fill you up to put you in a better mood," he questions. "all you had to do was ask. you'on need to do the extra shit." bringing a hand to his cock to jerk, standing back to his feet to drag his tip from your clit to the strip of skin just above your puckered hole. he just just keeps doing it, back and forth, up and down, until your grow restless, quivering, advancing to wrap your legs around his hips to bring him closer.
but eren easily slides into you and presses his palms to the backs of your knees, pushing so that they rest at either side of your head so that you're completely folded.
the stretch hurts, makes you vulnerable and at the hands of his mercy but you wouldn't want it any other way, laying the future of your orgasm in his hold because you know he'll cater to you in every way possible.
his hips rut, pelvis to pelvis, heavy balls pressed to the swell of your ass as he digs deeper. and your pussy spasms, hugging him, sucking him in like a whirlpool. it makes eren lay his weight onto your chest, picking up his pace.
"slow down," you whine, lips parted with your head thrown back, he takes one hand from your leg to wrap around your throat, bringing your attention onto him. maintaining gut-churning eye-contact.
"take this shit," he speaks, harsh and cruel. staring into your eyes and it makes you want to shrivel up. "been fuckin' with me all day so take this shit."
"d-didn't mean to."
he drops his hips a hurried slam, pounding into you like you owed him something. it was unrelenting. forceful. upon the impact of his dick sliding into you, your body jerks up higher onto the bed.
"mm, look at you. be actin' all tough in public but as soon as you get on this dick, you go silent."
leaning over, eren puts his thumb onto your bottom lip, sliding it between so that he can pry open your jaw, getting your mouth wide enough so that he can spit directly into your mouth but some inevitably falls onto your cheeks and he seals, smearing it, berry lipgloss smudging while your skin stings.
he laughs in your face, finding you to be the prettiest thing. even when you're absolutely wrecked. pussy pulsing, titties bouncing, tummy folding, and knees resting beside your head.
"you boutta cream on me," he asks when he feels you tighten and you nod, spent on the feeling on him splitting you open with a smile on his face. "this your shit. just go 'head." eren continues to dog you out, watching at the familiar white ring coats his dick at the base and he loves the sight.
before you get the chance to come down from the high of it all, eren's taking matters into his own hands and is once again repositioning you as if it were nothing. the swiftness of it gives you whiplash. he's strong without reason, makes it entirely too easy to turn you to lay on your chest in the middle of the bed, arms behind your back whilst your ass points up, arched impossibly low that it strains your spine.
his palm is pressed to your cheek, pushing your head down into the mattress. one knee to the plush of the bedding on the other is bent with his foot flat as he thrusts entirely too deep.
it's hard hearing the soppiness of you taking him in, hearing your pussy talking back, pleading to take it easy because he's being so rough and you can barely keep up. he leaves you gaping when he pulls out and kisses your clit to see it jump just to push back in with fervor afterward.
with your face forced onto its side, watching through the mirror of your vanity as eren loses himself in your warmth, thrusts growing sloppy and straying away from its pattern, you blindly reach behind you, feeling the weight of his dick drilling into you.
"move your hand," he speaks sternly, calling you by name and its grounding. but you can't bring yourself to do it, trying your hardest to intercept his pace by pressing down onto his lower stomach. pretty nails dragging down the skin.
"i can't, ren," you plead, eyes rolling to the back of your head, toes curling. "god, it's too much." you involuntarily break your arch, back hunching, going to stand onto your knees to get eren to let up but he doesn't let you.
pressing down on your back, moving your hand himself and pulling your hips up to get you right back into position he wants you, eren isn't one for mercy as he digs back in. "nah, don't run from it." he lays a heavy smack to your ass, watching as the flesh jiggles, so he does it again.
and again. and again. and again.
"fuck me back, baby." he knows you're gone when you do as he says without hesitation, smiling to himself as he feels his own toes curl. "yeah, you got it. fuck...keep goin'."
and just like that, you're back to your old ways. taking everything that he has to offer. throwing your ass back onto him to meet his thrusts. it has him reaching a hand down to pinch and roll your clit between two fingers, building you up so that you'll be milking him in no time.
"all you wanted. this is all you wanted. you know daddy's got you, baby,"
a few more plunges in and you're fluttering, cream flowing out of you, running down your thighs, and that causes a ripple effect on eren, his balls constricting as he paints your walls white.
and when you shake so much that you're one step away from sliding off the bed, eren chuckles before holding onto you tight, laying his sticky chest into your back and grabs the side of your face to smack his lips to yours.
Synopsis. “To the esteemed and venerable House of Gojo,
Hereby is your formal invitation to the Choosing Ceremony; our proudly ancestral tradition in which an eligible candidate is put forth by every clan in high society—and out of them all, only one shall be chosen as future husband to our Madam.
And for that, the Madam has specifically requested the presence of Gojo Satoru. Specifically.
It does not matter to her that your candidate has no cursed energy so to speak of, and it would be our greatest honor to start bridging stronger relations between our two dignified clans.
We hope for your good health, and a reply from Gojo himself soon.”
Or in which if Gojo Satoru hasn’t manifested his powers yet, you know a way to make him…snap.
Pairing. Gojo Satoru x Reader
Content. MDNI, fem!reader, heir!Gojo Satoru, no powers AU, for now…, Gojo with no cursed energy, the eIders are awful, arranged marriages, Choosing Ceremony, suitors, outcast Gojo, your technique, tension, oraI (fem rec.), pússydrúnk Gojo, GOJO’S POWERS, making him SNAP, vibrations, Six Eyes to find your spots, fíngering, spítting, p talking, p sIapping, cIit bitíng, FÉRAL Gojo, matíng presses, manhandIing, Infinity as a cóndom, shattering, making you count, DESPERATE Gojo, needy s, he’s a Iittle crazed, creampíes, cúmpIay, marathons, overstím, cúmming bIanks, making him CRY, UNLlMITED VOID, teIeportation, sIight vioIence at end (NOT to or from reader), the eIders, happy ending, pet names, swéaring.
Word count. 10.9k
A/N. Oh Gege how can I ever thank you ENOUGH for these powers-
Gojo Satoru was born without cursed energy.
December 7th. Twenty-eight years ago. He had been a strangely quiet baby- to the extent that it’d scared the midwives, and they’d fussed-over and checked him from every angle before ultimately realizing that that was just the way…he is. But strange was good.
Strange meant powerful.
And thus came the higher-ups that breathed down the poor infant’s neck. They were the first to see when he’d cracked his eyes open, twenty-eight years ago; and gave those peering higher-ups a glimpse of those cloud-flecked summer skies he held within—they thought he’d been destined for greatness. Those eyes of his…they just seemed to glow.
Six Eyes. So it had touched this generation of Gojos too, right? Right?
But there was only one problem: they couldn’t feel a single lick of cursed energy emanating from the boy.
Gojo Satoru was born without powers.
An outlier. An anomaly. A disgrace.
Which is why, twenty-eight years later, he’d been surprised when the marriage proposal came.
“Throw it out, Ijichi.” Gojo snarled, tapping his long tobacco stick against the low table. The kiseru was made of polished bamboo, its sleek body donning the silver emblem of the Gojo clan—it had been scratched out. It gleamed like a blade.
The heir to the Gojo clan - at least in name - had his back turned to his audience. Soft morning sunlight filtered through silk curtains and illuminated his strong figure, draped in Gojo-blue. It was almost against everyone’s will, including his own, that he had grown tall. Broad. Traditional woodblock prints. Sandalwood incense from the local temple. Books upon books of high literature surrounding him. He’d read them over hundreds of times.
Seated upon a plush blue zabuton cushion with silver threading; he was surrounded by opulence and even more loneliness. Most days, Gojo sipped his time away with that damn bamboo stick and his books—training and convening with others had long been banned since it became obvious that the heir had no talent in cursed energy. Which wasn’t supposed to be- he was supposed to be The Strongest. He was supposed to be…something else. Someone else. So they hid him away.
They forgot about him.
Out of sight, out of mind. Right?
Except for Ijichi Kiyotaka, the one resident at the Gojo Estate that knew the enigmatic Gojo son beyond just whispers and the occasional flash of white hair ‘round hallway corners. Disappearing quicker than one catches it.
The envelope crumples in Ijichi’s hands as he speaks, “But master-”
“Do not call me that.” His voice isn’t too loud. And yet, it cuts through the attendant’s voice with its simple simper—“What have I told you, Ijichi?”
“M-my apologies…Gojo-san.”
Gojo had his head semi-turned over his shoulder. And from that brief profile, Ijichi sees that even that title manages to make the other man’s lip curl—though he doesn’t say anything more. He merely turns back to his tobacco as the bespectacled man starts to blubber once more.
“I-I just meant to say…” Tone wavering. Tone beseeching. He’s shuffling forward on both knees with the envelope held out, “-that this might be something of interest, ma- Gojo-san.”
“What? A marriage proposal?” Gojo scorns after a deep exhale. The tobacco at the end of his pipe still remains inflamed when he sets it down on the table, and finally turns properly towards his attendant. His only. Gojo isn’t so presumptuous as to call him his only friend- but sometimes he can’t help but feel that way. Steely blue eyes narrow. “Does it look like I have the patience to entertain what is so-obviously a joke, Ijichi?”
“But—” Ijichi can’t help but stir. “You’ve been leaving this proposal without reply for four days, Gojo-san. And it seems that in that time, they’ve contacted the Estate five times just to make sure it was delivered.”
He raises a ghost-pale brow, “Then it seems they don’t know I’m without cursed energy.”
Ijichi squirms uncomfortably. He pushes his glasses up, “I-it seems that in that time, the council of elders had taken…liberties to inform them of this circumstance.”
Gojo takes his tobacco and taps it impatiently on the table. “And?” He runs a hand through his hair—what else could he have expected from them? Fucking bastards.
To his surprise, Ijichi ducks his head down ever-so-slightly. And though the Gojo heir might not have those special eyes that deemed him as part of the family - he could still see that the other man seemed to be hiding a faint smile. “And…it seems they were still interested, Gojo-san.”
There’s a pause.
Gojo takes another deep inhale.
“Is that so…?” His words were low and lazy—but Ijichi could see right through them. He could discern that faint furrow between his master’s brows as he mulled over the thought, let it twist and turn and take over his mind. Everyone he knew didn’t spare him a second glance at him once they found out about his predicament.
They would fawn over him and his blue eyes during those stuffy social functions he was dragged to as a child - back when the elders still seemed to think he had a chance of his cursed energy showing up as he grew - and then ‘discreetly’ be pulled aside by some attendant or the other to be…told. ‘Normal eyes’ was what he commonly heard. Then they’d avert their eyes from him all night.
It took him some years before he understood why, and then he’d started refusing to join these functions. After that, they stopped asking.
Visitors from far-off lands would bring him gifts and candies whenever they visited the Estate on official business; and he’d stand outside the meeting hall as they requested to see the ‘little one’. Only to be told by his very parents that there was nothing to see - he had no cursed energy. There was nothing impressive about him.
He never saw a single one of those candies.
The dojos of the Gojo Estate would be in an uproar morning after morning; and once - just once as a child - he had asked to join. The head instructor had shared a pitying gaze with his top student, and Gojo had sprinted out of the place before they could utter a single word. They can keep their pity—he didn’t need a single one of them.
He didn’t need anyone.
Not the tutors, nor the attendants, nor the kids of those higher-ups that all looked at him with pity in their eyes- that’s part of why he latched onto Ijichi and made him his only attendant.
He never did so.
That, and Gojo liked his glasses.
Wherever news of Gojo’s lack of power spread, it became infected like a disease.
Which is why he couldn’t understand you.
“Gojo-san?” Ijichi’s tentative voice breaks through his torrent of thoughts, and Gojo’s still slightly dazed as he looks up at the other man - how long had he been silent? Shaking off whatever had come over him - it’s not quite like him to reminisce - he stands and walks to one of the open doors—facing a private section of the Gojo gardens. Butterflies flicked from flower to flower, and trees swayed serendipitously in the winds. He watches one of those multi-colored wings flap to foxglove and then off into the sky. Watching such a sight, he couldn’t help but feel so small.
The Gojo Estate was beautiful, but deadly.
And so were those with its name.
“Write them a response apologizing for taking so long.” Gojo keeps staring out at the summer day as he speaks, and the other man jolts to attention. “And tell them…” He wasn’t sure who he was waiting for: Ijichi who was noting this down, or himself. He swallows and clasps his hands behind his back—“Tell them that I accept.”
He has always hated feeling small.
“Let’s see how they truly like The Strongest.”
.
.
.
The elders were prepping and poking at him like some dessert the next evening.
News of his acceptance had spread like wildfire.
And before he knew it, they were rubbing his skin red and raw - until milk-water seeped into his every pore. Dousing him in clouds of perfume. Painting his plump lips just the faintest cherry-red—just enough to be enticing, or so they said. Smoothing down the invisible creases on his expensive cotton hakama; threaded cranes and reeds took flight from their hem, the silver emblem of the Gojo clam burned deeply into his back. He couldn’t find much of a difference between this and a dog collar. Play nice. Don’t bite.
Do tricks for the pretty lady.
Or so he assumed he would have to.
At some point, he wondered whether they were oh-so-fervently preparing him in the hopes of getting rid of him. And his hypothesis was only exacerbated when those elders caught each others’ eyes and smiled as they were bidding him farewell. “Make our family proud.” His father had told him.
Farewell. Farewell.
The towering, palace-like gates of the Gojo Estate grew smaller behind him, and he determined that even if he wasn’t getting picked - he was never coming back.
And so he was here.
Gojo was escaping one Estate and being led straight into another; grander, more gilded. The prestige radiated off of it in waves and made his stomach turn to knots as he was led inside - Ijichi by his side - past winding hallways and antiques displayed, then singled out and told to sit in the meeting chamber amongst a row of handsome men. Ijichi nods reassuringly at him and steps outside.
Gojo’s sighing greatly before sitting at the very end of the row - attempting to twist his legs into the poised positions that the others were taking on top of the tatami. There were about twenty of them; backs straight, legs tucked, proudly dressed in robes with their family names. They stood out in their multi-color robes and reminded Gojo of old-fashioned puppets. And even among these handsome men they were attempting to out-handsome one another.
It was almost pathetic- really.
As they wait for you to arrive, your suitors would jut their heads out and take a good look at the competition—then if they assess that one seemed to be giving them too much of a run for their money, they’re primping their hair n’ polishing off their jewels. The Gojo Estate had given him none - probably didn’t trust him with them.
He feels a laugh bubbling up in his throat as, one by one, they snuck glances at him and sat just a little taller. And yet, they couldn’t meet his height.
That didn’t matter, however.
In this society, all that mattered were one’s powers - and should one not have strong powers, then it’s the connections. Gojo had none.
Ah, to get this over with…
Soon, footsteps resound and the sliding doors rattle. Gojo gets the urge to look up as they open, but he’s tampering down the temptation and keeping his eyes fixated on the ground as he always does. It came as second nature to him. Next to him, he feels the other candidates stiffen and do the same.
“The Madam enters.” Wheezes out a male voice, old and reverent.
There’s another step as someone - presumably you - steps inside the meeting hall, and then they’re all placing their hands in front of them and bowing. Bending in unison at the waist. It wasn’t common to bow to someone he knew was just a year or two younger—but you were already the Madam of your clan, and they were mere heirs after all.
Him, not even that.
“At ease, please.” Your sweet, sweet voice echoes out and sends goosebumps skittering across his skin. Gojo’s not sure what he expected - but this…”Thank you for coming. Your presence shall be rewarded plentifully.”
“We’re grateful, Madam.”
“W-we’re grateful, Madam…” Gojo follows up belatedly. His pulse quickens. His thighs squeeze. He feels stares hone in on him at that exact moment, and he’s sure that one of them was yours.
Gojo attempts to press himself down on the tatami even deeper- to fold himself in half and make himself invisible. His eyes widen and the smooth woven surface stares up at him. His palms sweat where they were clenched. It’s not that he cared about what anyone here would think of him - but if he were to get out of here and escape, then drawing any attention to himself doesn’t help.
His heartbeat thunders in his chest—ba-dump!
But you don’t single him out. And Gojo’s unsure whether or not to breathe out a sigh of relief once he hears what seems to be a soft chuckle coming from your direction—he can’t risk it twice.
And after a beat, Gojo hears your footsteps start to make their way down from the other end of the row. Step after step. Stare after stare. Second after second, he assumes you’re taking your time assessing each candidate before moving onto the next. And behind your nearly-soundless steps were your gaggle of elders- “This is a descendent of the Kamo clan—” They’re not quite whispering to you, “Very powerful. Very respectable family.”
“I see.” You say, and you’re walking past the Kamo descendent.
“O-oh and this one…the Fujiwara clan. Not the wealthiest but-”
You hold a hand up, “Yes, thank you.”
“Zenin Nao-”
“Not at all.”
Whoever that was - Gojo’s heard of the Zenin clan in bits and pieces through the walls of meeting chambers he wasn’t let into - withers in his bow. Whatever he’s heard of the man hadn’t been favorable in the first place, so he has to bite his lip to hold back a faint chuckle—so caught up in the action that he nearly doesn’t notice the shadow padding over to him. He nearly doesn’t notice that you’ve walked right up to him.
It’s the elders that get his attention before you do.
“Ah- and this is the…” Gojo doesn’t need to strain his ears to hear what they’re saying about him. He’s heard it time and time again: that slight hitch in their tone, the way they bring up a hand to cover their mouths but still look at him. “The heir to the Gojo clan.” Spat like a curse.
“The hair gave it away.” There’s none of that derision in your tone. “How beautiful.”
A shiver runs down Gojo’s spine.
And it’s not long before yet another one of your council members is tugging at your sleeves, “Madam, this is the…”
Another speaks up- “The note that was delivered—”
“That forgotten son.” And another.
“Silence.”
You’re saying it so serenely, and yet it manages to get every single damn one of them to shut up. Every single one of them—that were hungry and clamoring for your attention; frothing at the mouth to reveal his open secret. If only it was so easy for him. The silence stretches terribly, until the tension was so thick that it was hard for him to breathe.
And before he knows it, Gojo’s feeling a soft hand touch his shoulder.
Lightness fills him. Just ephemeral and fleeting.
And your voice speaks out in a much warmer tone, “Please. At ease.”
Something seems to uncoil inside him as he straightens- why he was following your every word, he has no idea. But soon enough, he’s back in his resting position and looking down the row of other candidates that ogled him.
You chuckle kindly once more, “The others have long since been sitting. You may go easier on yourself.” Through his peripheral vision, he senses you crouching down in front of you.
And so he’s finally looking up—
Now, Gojo Satoru could describe your features, or your clothes, or the color of your eyes- or even the degree of your smile. He looks back on this moment - not even in the far future, mere split-seconds later - and thinks he could pinpoint the exact angle that the light flooding into the chamber struck the side of your face. But the only thing he registers right now is that if heaven were real, then this might just be the place. And he’d run straight into its awaiting arms-
Your awaiting arms.
Then as quickly as that flare of madness appeared, he’s shaking his head. Trying to clear his mind - whilst you wear a look of slight bemusement on your face as if you could read his thoughts.
Gojo’s just able to pull himself together and flicker his sapphire eyes open—when you’re standing up and addressing them all. Speaking loud and clear- “I have chosen.”
Cold water douses him- or at least feels like it. And the other candidates in your row of suitors shiver like they were experiencing something similar.
One of the elders shifts his gaze nervously between him and you, “Y-you have chosen, Madam?”
Another one clasps his hands in delight and beams, “As per my recommendation- the Kamo boy, Madam?”
“No no—it should be the Abe boy.”
“The-”
One hand raised to signal silence. You’re running your serious stare down the row of men that sat rigidly awaiting your decree.
Each one blenches a little as it reaches them, as though it sent bolts of electricity through them.
Eventually, they’re stopping on him.
On Gojo Satoru.
And he meets your gaze shyly- with bated breath.
“It’s him.” The calmness before the storm. “I choose him.” Before the chamber seems to explode into the indignant noises of the other candidates, the pleas and coos of elders attempting to stop you from making any rash decisions. The air seems to still. The pipes seem to burst. Outside, it’s evident that some of the house staff had been peering through the cracked-open door and eavesdropping on the ceremony- and their surprised squawks add to the cacophony.
And in the middle of the noise - the center of attention - you and Gojo share a look in silence.
Your hand raises once more.
“Silence. I will not repeat it.” A slight hardening in your tone. It’s there to remind them all that you are the clan leader, after all; amongst the youngest to be handed the mantle, amongst the most successful to make your Estate surge in social and economic standing. “He is to be my husband—” Turning to look at him. “-if he so wishes it.”
And you had chosen him to be your husband.
There’s a terse silence- and everyone turns their heads towards Gojo before he realizes that they were waiting for his answer. Most of the other men glower at him as if to say he was stupid if he messed this up-
“Y-yes.” Nodding unsteadily. It seems like the kind of thing that he’d have to ponder over - but it comes to him as though his mind had already been made up, without him knowing. “Yes.” Yes, he was sure.
“Yes, Madam.” The guy next to him hisses.
One of your head council members all but begs at your feet, “B-but master, he has no cursed energy…”
“Elder, must I repeat myself once more?” It seems like an off-hand question—almost jovial. But clearly the elder knows better than to push, and he’s shrivelling back up once more.
With a wave of your hand, you’re dismissing them. “And so if that is all, the other candidates shall have to forgive me- but I wish to spend some time getting to know my future husband. I hope you understand. Refreshments will be available in the East gardens.” As they start to exchange glances and stand, you turn to your balking elders—“And that goes for you, too, dear elders.”
They stir.
They look at each other- as if for confirmation.
Before one nudges the other - and they can do nothing but walk. Walk away with a mere glance—past the ogling house staff, following the murmuring young men.
Despite how much your attendants try to take a peek at him- the sliding doors shut.
Rattling; those trundling vibrations soak into the walls and reach all the way down to Gojo’s toes. Making them curl as you sit in front of him: close enough that his heart thunders, far enough that you wouldn’t be able to hear it. Though by the look on your face, he almost has his doubts…
“So…” You’re placing your face in your hands and taking a good look at him. “Something tells me you’re not one for small talk?”
“Why have you chosen me?” He jerks his peripherals to meet yours, and stares at you squarely. “They were right- you know—” Gojo gestures at the doors behind you, “I don’t have any cursed energy.”
“I was right.” You mutter to yourself, “And as for why I chose you…hm…”
He almost thinks you won’t answer the question, when you’re cupping your hands in front of you and letting them emanate a soft golden glow. Gojo knows what it is instantly- he’s spent so many years wishing he had the same, after all. Even the tiniest ember of it.
You’re shaping the air in your hands as though molding the radiance; it fractures and bends like sunlight between tree branches. Beautiful. He’s never seen anything more beautiful. As if his thoughts caught your attention, you’re half-smiling up at him. “Do you know what this is?”
“Cursed technique.” He whispers.
You nod, “And can you take a guess what it does?”
“Something to do with darkness and light? Vanquishing darkness?” Gojo cocks his head.
“In a way…” You’re gesturing for him to reach out—and he brings his arm out somewhat tentatively. The moment your fingertips touch his skin, that radiance seeps warmth throughout his body- it floods him with that same light feeling from earlier. “Feel that? It’s your mask being taken off you.” Gojo looks at you in confusion. “My cursed technique reveals people’s true emotions and thoughts- the good and the bad. The honest. I can read them all.”
“And mine…?” He gasps. How wondrous. Those of the Gojo clan were often stuck on bending space and the physics of it all. Your technique just seemed so…human.
You smile, “Something like cursed energy doesn’t matter to me. You were the only one that didn’t want me for my name or status.” Fingers sliding across milky skin - feeling more of him. Reading more of him. His gasp catches in his throat as you continue, “You were angry. And tired…” Brows furrowing. “-and a little scared.”
“I am.” He swallows- throat dry. “I was. But what’s that to you?”
“And then there was something else…” Bolts of lightning seem to explode wherever your fingertips traced, and he’s feeling his pulse heighten. His half-lidded gaze bores into yours—“You were aroused calling me ‘Madam’.”
And then Gojo Satoru just seems to melt-
“I wasn’t-”
“You were.”
“I was-” There was no use hiding it. He’s leaning backwards—even though his hands remained where they were, aching for your touch. Gojo’s words come out in jagged pants, wet and blistering; perspiration starts to formulate on his skin. “I was. And it’s all your fault I had to hide a boner from some damn elders.”
“You were…what?” You tilt your head coyly. Gojo Satoru. From the moment you saw him, you knew you wanted him.
And one wouldn’t need a cursed technique to know how he felt- a rosy blush rises to his cheeks. “I was, Madam.”
Was it getting even hotter inside this damn room? Gojo’s almost subconsciously letting those expensive robes of his flap open, just the barest slivers of pinkish skin.
“How perverted.” You’re tutting. Starting to lean in now, “But that’s alright. Because right now, you’re feeling something else, too.”
Whispering. Octaves higher. He looks like he’s in for a battle- there’s a carnal glint in his eyes that’s hard to mistake. “And that is…?” Challenging.
“You wish to kiss me so badly.”
And so he does.
He does, he does, he does- he’s not sure who’s reaching for whom first. But suddenly your lips are on his and he’s moaning into your mouth—loud and openin’ up in a gasp before you’re capturing his lower lip between your teeth and teasing him just a little.
Nibbling.
The chamber light flickers for just a second- but neither of you notice it as Gojo bucks. Straight off the smooth tatami and reachin’ his carnal hips up into yours. The simple action is enough to make Gojo fist at the fabric of your clothes, white-knucking them until he’s hearing a little riiiiip—!
You’re breaking the kiss with a gasp- and his lips still chase yours ravenously. “Now, now…we aren’t even married yet. Not that I care, but what would the council say?”
“I don’t care.” Gojo pants out hot n’ heavy into your mouth. Before one hand snakes up the back of your neck to guide you into a deep kiss once more- “I don’t fucking care.”
“E—mmpf.” He’s sucking sloppily on your tongue, dragging the tip of your tastebuds between his lips n’ tasting. Like it’s the sweetest damn thing he’s ever tasted. Brows crinkling in frustration whenever you’re attempting to half-heartedly break off and continue speaking- “Eager- oh, are we? Something tells me that someone’s a little…inexperienced, hm?”
And you didn’t need your cursed technique to read him - Gojo blushes straight down to the roots of his ivory hair.
His nose crinkles, “I am. I’ve never touched a woman- anyone before.”
“And that’s perfectly alright.” You’re reassuring him, hands coming up to caress his heaving chest. “We don’t have to do anything you don’t want to. We can take it slow-”
“No—” Gojo gasps as though you’d just cussed him out. Hands trembling on your body - fabric bunching, fingers white-knuckling. He’s holding onto you like you were a lifeline. “No no no no- I would rather…if you would like to—”
You’re letting your warm cursed energy out.
“I want to taste your lips.” He admits, wincing at the way it sounds so crude being said out loud. “Your…other lips.”
“Oh.” Your mouth parts. Before a rush of pleasure seeps through you- “Then why don’t I get on my back, hm? I want to see your pretty face.”
He almost feels faintish just hearing the words.
In next to no time; you’ve positioned yourself flatly against the tatami mats—and dragged him right on top of you, of course. Gojo’s body eagerly climbs up your own, the light from above creating a halo-like effect on him, and admires you for a few seconds- kisses your lips once more- before he’s pressing a thorough trail of open-mouthed kisses down your body.
Between your tits. Down the side of your hips.
Gojo’s then moving back and chastely peckin’ up your inner-thighs before he’s reaching that wetness in-between. The heat of your cunt just radiates between your legs- you were already so drenched n’ pulsing.
That tick-tick-tick of your cunt presses against his face as Gojo shuffles aside your layers and nuzzles in. Even through your underwear, it was making his mouth water already.
Without a single warning, Gojo lets his greedy tongue drip out and gives your clothed pussy a gooood lick. From bottom to top.
His tongue flickering back in. That damn light inside the meeting chamber flickers against once more- and you’re immediately bucking up into his touch. “G-Gojo—”
“That’s my father’s name. Instead call me…” He murmurs, throat smoky. With a sudden squelching kiss—placed right where your swollen folds were the plumpest, the heir to the Gojo clan struggles to push himself even deeper. Even closer. Even more desperately. “Satoru.”
“Satoru.” You repeat.
And he looks as though he’s in ecstasy.
In what seems like the far-off distance, there’s a sudden burst of something sharp- shards. The observation lingers in your mind and you’re realizing that it sounded like a lightbulb or one of the antiques being dropped.
But there’s no time to think about it too deeply—because in the next few seconds, you’re weaving your fingers through Gojo’s dampened white hair. Twisting them into a grip so deliciously painful for him, and dragging his pretty face back between your legs. A sudden moan rips from your throat- “Your future wife wants you to eat her out, Satoru.”
He’s on you so fast - nudgin’ his head nose-deep - that you think it might’ve been teleportation. “Yes, Madam.”
And how could he ever deny a command from you?
It’s the only thing that whirls in Gojo’s dazed mind- it’s the only thing his body even seems to be running on. Before he even registers what he’s doing, his fingers are reaching up to swipe aside your soppin’ panties. Fuck…you’re so pretty he feels a moan slip out. Muttering a ruined prayer between your legs- before the slender tip of his tongue darts out and slobbers.
A lick straight down your wet crevice.
A lap around the outer area where your slick had accumulated.
“Mmmpf—” Gojo breathes through his nostrils n’ lets them flare. He lets his eyes widen. He lets his jaw drop.
Just the faintest glimmer of your essence trickling down the side of his mouth.
And Gojo’s going crazy.
With a croaked, crackling groan at the back of his throat- he’s hooking a bulky arm around your left leg and tugging—manhandling you to him in a surprisingly primal way. Your pussylips are slammin’ against the edge of his chin, and he’s probing his tongue even deeper. Back and forth. Back and forth. “Why is she so sweet…”
Feeling the pressured intrusion of his tongue - the way his slippery muscle expands the first inches of your muscle so well - you’re merely arching up into his mouth with a keen. “Ohhh, just like that—”
“Huh? What- that’s not…” And for a few seconds there, you think he’s merely babblin’ away to himself. But when Gojo fishes his sloppy tongue back out and thrashes it even harder- nose pressing up determinedly against the nub of your clit - that’s when you’re realizing that something else might be at play here.
That’s when you’re letting your chin drop to your chest, and discovering Gojo already staring at you with large, hallowed eyes- straight up at you.
That’s when he’s becoming even more frenzied as he sandwiches his lips between your puffy folds and makes out with them. Those girthy inches of his tongue drawing out languid slurps and sounds that make his cock twitch. “Th-that’s not what I asked, Madam.” He’s rubbing up against the sensitive inner parts of your thighs, “That’s not the answer to my question, right?” From the way he looked, you genuinely couldn’t tell whether he was joking or dead serious.
“Satoru, what do you…” Getting on your elbows to look down at him.
But it’s almost too late. Because Gojo has his mouth hooked ‘round your sweet, sweet pussy and his zig-zagging tastebuds driving you wild—“Why are you so sweet?” Almost as wild as Gojo was driving himself. “Why are you so hot? So ready takin’ my tongue? Just fucking—stickin’ to me like that- your pussy’s trying to chase me when I kiss her.”
“O-ohhhh—you’re sure this is your first time?” You can merely sob.
Those sky-blue eyes of his flash with some amusement.
“So fucking…” And you’re not sure if he even hears you - you’re not sure whether Gojo can register anything other than the dessert platter in front of him right now. As if on cue, that leaky hole of yours empties out numerous wads of sap that smear down his cheeks. He welcomes it with what almost feels to you - and your technique - like a purr. And this last word is spat out in what almost feels like a growl- “-addictive?”
It’s almost accusing.
Though not really, and Gojo’s honed canines jut out as he lavishes a few kisses on your clit. Soakin’ it up enough to reach a hand up and pinch.
That glistening nub of yours grows even fatter n’ needier as he squeezes it between two cold fingertips. His thumb and his index. Just the sight of it is enough to make his mouth salivate once again, and all those gluey ribbons of saliva end up getting spat on your pussy once again.
Gojo’s pluggin’ it up with his crowned fingertips before it can get the chance to trickle out. Like a waterfall. “You must have done something to me…” The realization hits him.
“E-excuse me?” You ask.
“It’s your cursed technique- isn’t it—?” Gojo’s then scissoring two digits inside you and starting to pummel your gooey insides with them. Each movement causes the prettiest orchestra of squelches that enter his eardums like fucking music-
“It wasn’t.” Squealing. Soaring your hands through his hair. He scours every inch of you with a single thrust- the sheer length of his fingers, ending off with those knobbly swollen tips.
They were so moldable n’ he’s gluing them to your softest orifices like adhesive. “I p-promise it wasn’t…” Saliva starts to stream from one side of your mouth—your mind’s turning to mush with every passing second. Without even thinking, you grab him by the scalp and guide his face closer between your legs. The cavern of his pretty pink mouth opens with a soft ‘yes, ma’am’ and Gojo then latches onto your throbbing clit. “Why? Do you feel any different, Satoru?”
“Feel different?” At that question, Gojo has to physically lurch away from your pussy to look up into your face n’ make sure that you’re serious. You were. “Feel different?”
“Y-yes…?” Slightly taken aback.
Gojo genuinely lets his head tip backwards- with a bout of crazed laughter.
Short. Breathless.
It echoes around the room; and you’re sure of it—this doesn’t sound anything like the Gojo Satoru you’ve known. Until now. There’s a feral twinkle in his eyes that you can’t quite discern once Gojo surges his head forward and kisses your pussy once more. French kisses.
This time, his pupils were mere needlepoints around a sea of faintly-gleaming blue as he wraps his lips around your clit and peers up at you. A grin plastered across his face- he knows you can feel it, because you’re just squirming so much. “Sweetheart, I don’t just feel different…” Those roverin’ tips of his enter your hole once more, three of them propelling inside your slippery channel. “I think I am different.”
A shiver runs down your spine. What did he mean by…
Gojo’s eyebrows raise—“What do I mean by- hah, that? Well…I can feel your pussy reeeeeeal good-” His nose crinkles as yet another wave of slick slips down his throat, “-I can feel every clench, every pulse, every bead of slick.”
And then he increases the pace of his thrusts, until the brutish knuckles of his fingers were reddened.
Starting to swell.
Pump after pump.
Hit after hit.
The most ruthless swipes that messed up your insides. Leaves his mark on there like a last name; Gojo adds in a fourth finger just when you think you’ve been stretched-out to your maximum limits—
“And…” That flexible end of his tongue lifts off of your clit. He curls it tenderly in front of your entrance- just in time for a pearly bead of slick to escape you and end up dappled straight on his tastebuds. “I can predict wherever they start to drip.”
Your mouth gapes open.
And though that was impressive, your mind’s occupied with something else entirely.
You yelp and sit up on your elbows straighter. How did he know? He read your mind. He’s reading your body. You thought he didn’t have cursed energy?!
But as though reading your mind was something he did everyday, he continues.
He’s using those special antics to slash his mouth near-vertically across your own slit and end up draaaaaagging his textured tastebuds on top of your clit. Making you shake with every single spark of pleasure running up your body, whilst his fingers only prod ‘round even deeper. Swivelling around. Stirring you up from the inside. Squelch after squelch. “I can sense where you feel the best.” Gojo’s lips are flappin’ away animalistically between your legs. “I can tell just how good you feel—”
A sudden bite at your clit.
You’re yelping, “Fuh-fuuuuuck!”
““See? I can tell your pretty pussy liked that.” Gojo’s fluttering his pale lashes playfully. A smirk upon his maw. “I can tell that you like it when I do- ngh, thiiiiis—” Scissoring his fingers and flickerin’ his tongue on top of your clit, “And especially when I do this.” Making you throw your head back as he nibbles on your knob once more. Just as he had predicted - you shiver underneath his tongue, and he’s gapin’ his mouth wide to let those droplets cascade into his mouth. Those blue eyes of his nearly glow in excitement—“And I can tell…actually, I can see that you’re feeling good all the way from here—”
He presses down on your clit using the tip of his handsome nose.
Then glides his left hand up your front- as far as he could reach, he’s soon squeezing your left tit. Then the right. Alternating. There’s a strange buzzing sensation floating over your nipples whenever he touches them…“To here. Even higher up to that- hah, pretty head of yours, the way s’lighting up.”
“Lighting up…?” Just to make sure, you spare a glance down at yourself. “Satoru, what are you talking abou- oh.”
But then he’s hittin’ his fingertips damn near your g-spot, and it feels good enough to bring tears to your eyes. “Oh, sweetheart, your entire body’s on fire because of how good you feel. And I haven’t even gotten to it yet.”
“My g-spot?” You babble.
He’s nodding like a drunken man. “She’s been waiting for me- pulsing, y’know?” Gojo trundles out through his husky breaths, “Throbbing. Needing. Just aching for my attention.”
“Th-this really can’t be your first time…” You mumble weakly, barely audible enough.
“And guess what?” He breathes- octaves away from normal.
“What—?”
Gojo was staring at you with wide, almost-bulging eyes. His gaze was glazed over and yet- still so frenzied, enough so that you swear the irises surrounding his pupils were glowing—“I can see where she is.”
With that said, you’re feeling the hardest- sloppiest thrust of his fingers yet.
A direct hit onto that cute heart-shaped button of your g-spot. Gojo doesn’t need to move his fingers ‘round to feel for where that particularly soft area was—he knew where it was instantly. And the most crazed smile splashes across his face, twisting his lips, as he’s watching you shatter underneath him. He knows when you’re reaching your high before you yourself do.
“You’re cumming for me…” He inhales hollowly.
Eyes widening, “I am?” It’s suddenly hitting you then: that spread of warmth from the pit of your stomach, up your spine, n’ fogging up your mind. Your pussy was just battering away at a staccato- your legs were thrashing where Gojo pinned them down with his upper half. “I am.”
Gojo merely crushes his face deeper and fucks you through the best orgasm you’ve had in your entire life. Fingers nothing but a blur. Nose nuzzlin’ deeper. “I would never lie to you, Madam.”
“Fuck…”
Tongue dipping straight into your slippery hole, then alternating between rolling over your clit. Wave after wave.
The bliss is almost too much to bear - it washes over your body, setting your limbs alight with the electricity of your orgasm. That dopamine. Those white stars. And Gojo’s pressing on your g-spot accurately upon every single peak, such dogged need. “Oh, and I can s-see it—”
“Satoru-” You’re keening out. Your hands reach up to muss up Gojo’s ivory strands, grabbing and lavishing his mouth across your clit. He’s sucking it inside and hollowing his cheeks out—“Th-that wasn’t anything my cursed technique did. This was all you, baby.”
“Oh…”
And with that awed expression upon his attractive features, he’s finishing up with the last few dredges of your orgasm. Letting the bliss course through you - Gojo then unlatches himself from your sensitive cunt with a loud pop! The last thrust of his fingers ends off with the faintest flicker of blue lightning…
You both catch it and gasp-
Gojo’s meeting your eyes with his frenzied ones. It’s then that you’re getting a good look- a proper one.
Gojo Satoru’s eyes were always such a beautiful blue. But now…they had a wreath of so many different shades - sky-blue, cobalt-blue, denim-blue, indigo, some almost as pale as white - playing within them that it looked like jewels. Like something out-of-this-world. It glowed with power.
“Oh my god-” You’re immediately attempting to surge up - and Gojo firmly presses you back down on the tatami. As if he already knew what you were going to say. “Satoru, we need to inform someone—we need to send summons to your Estate elders immediately-”
“Maybe.” He cocks his head with something akin to a pout.
And you’re staring up at him in disbelief, “Don’t you want to prove them wrong? Don’t you want to take your rightful mantle as head?”
“Maybe…” Gojo murmurs once more, and his brows knot in the middle. “But more than that- there’s something else I want to do first.”
His first time, that is.
Before you know it, Gojo hovers his body upwards- then he’s tugging open your robes. He’s leaving you half-bare. And then moving onto his, Gojo stares you straight down as he damn-near tears through the four attached straps of his hakama, the belt, the pieces tucked. Harsh. Almost violent.
It makes your cunt quiver just for a moment—and Gojo’s letting his jaw drop as though he could feel the fucking thing.
As though he’s listening to it. Worshipping it. He then manages to free his red, ravaged cock - glistening at the top with so much slick, and then turning into a peachy pink towards his base. Girthy tip, even girthier middle. His shaft was looooong and oh-so-proudly decorated in numerous zig-zagging veins, disappearing into the tufts of curly white at his hilt. He’s so damn hard that he twitches in the air a few seconds after release.
Almost immediately afterwards, Gojo’s tall frame collapses on top of yours. Body wracking with shivers.
Gently folding both your legs over his shoulders; they trembled with the aftermath of your previous high, and a wicked smile plays upon his lips as he bends and bends you until the top of your knees hit your chest.
He gazes down at you through the gaps in his ivory hair, “May I fuck you using my powers, Madam?”
Your mouth parts.
Gojo had flushed cheeks. Damp skin. His eyes faintly a-glow- and the most primal glimmer flickering within them.
Bolts of lightning dart from the edges of his peripherals and crackle in the sensual air between you two. The newest user of the Six Eyes in the Gojo clan. You’re wrapping both arms around Gojo’s clammy neck and pulling him to you - instantly, a whiff of jasmine hits you. “Please do, future head of the Gojo clan.”
He shivers.
And then he’s entering.
Just the large, globular tip of him—the very edge of it that feels almost scorching against your entrance. He doesn’t even need to sink all the way inside to stretch your hole ‘round himself, gluing his slit to the channel of your cunt - those walls that seem to just gulp him up. It’s heavenly enough that Gojo’s letting his head duck into the crook of your neck, mouth opening up in turgid gasps. “Oh- I’m fucking my Madam.” One jerky thrust. “My wife.”
“Sh-shit…” Your teeth clench. Your toes curl. And your pussy’s clenching around him like a vice. The stretch of him…it was like nothing you’ve felt before.
“Feels good?” Gojo asks, through strikes. His swollen shaft drags in n’ out at a dizzying rate, and with those Six Eyes of his - you knew when they were about to activate down at you, because the fizzes of lightning would grow more concentrated - he’s managing to point out your g-spot instantly.
Directly mazin’ between your fluttering wall. Pushing his rounded tip against that bundle of nerves- still so sensitive from your previous orgasm that even the merest brush sets your body alight…
Gojo reels his hips back n’ starts fucking you in quick, thorough thrusts that echo out into the room as plap! after plap! He’s cementing his toned v-line to the front of your pelvis, and letting out drunken giggles at the way your g-spot quivers for more after every whack—these damn Six Eyes really did manifest at the perfect time.
In no time, you’re feeling your walls turn to a gummy mess- ruined by his cock. Moaning out, “Go even deeper, husband-”
“O-oh.” His hips stutter mid-thrust. Not even bottoming out yet. “Ohhhh, don’t just say that-”
“Why not?” Fluttering your lashes up at him innocently.
Gojo then trembles- he clamps his jaw shut as though he didn’t know how to respond…or didn’t trust himself to. His knees hike up the tatami floors as though attempting to burrow himself even deeper—and then back n’ forth again as if conflicted. Conflicted. Gojo grazes his pearly whites down the side of your throat and murmurs, “Because c-call me that again n’ m’gonna cum…”
Just a few thrusts.
Not even bottomed-out.
An he was going to fucking cum- just because you called him that?
Your interest piques. “Maybe I want you to-” Angling your head so that his hair tickles your face, and your lips graze his ear lobe. “-husband.”
“Ohhh, I beg for mercy, Madam.” And he genuinely sounded serious.
“Husband?”
But it was too late- Gojo sprints his right hand down to clasp his hilt. But it was too late.
No matter how tightly he’s squeezing right there - where he was suddenly bulging even thicker at the thought of going inside you - Gojo’s ruddied tip leaks out a singular drop of ivory sap. And then another. And then another.
Until soon enough, he was coverin’ the entire front of your cunt. Eyelids shuttering. Throat cracking.
Gojo’s dipping his head down and watching as the mushroomy tip of his shaft almost explodes in a downpour of his cum- so much of it stored up. The warm wetness trickles over your pussylips like a glaze and ends up getting smeared by his blushin’ cockhead, stirring it around with the hand at his base. “Sh-shit.” Gojos takes his lower lip between his teeth, in an effort to keep the whimpers out of his voice. “Shit, I can’t believe you made me- ngh, cum before you. What did I tell you?”
“And I said I wanted it, didn’t I?” You’re grinning.
“And I can never deny my Madam- ngh.” The prettiest noise at the back of his throat- he’s breathing it into you as you two kiss. Once you’re breaking apart, Gojo’s finding himself bucking short, stunted semi-thrusts without his hazy mind having even realized it—“B-but about this mess…can I fuck it inside?”
“Hm? I don’t feel a mess.” It’s true - you felt the initial splosh! of his creamy white cum leaking out. But after that you didn’t feel it streak or dribble.
You’re both looking down and finding- “What’s…” That the large majority of his sap had accumulated around his fat tip, and though it was deliciously thick—there seemed to be another barrier that kept the cum from leaking. An invisible forcefield.
Gojo’s breath catches once he realizes, “Infinity.”
“What?”
But without answering, he’s merely swervin’ around the crowned head of his cock and watching as the glistening cum moves ‘round it. Doesn’t exactly touch it. “Infinity.” All the air seems to escape his lungs- and electrify around you two. Gojo looks up at you with wide, pleading eyes. “I can manipulate Infinity- I have Limitless.” Blue lightning scatters across his skin.
“Both? Both—?” Awe pumps through every atom of your being. It was impossible not to recite just what you’d learned in your jujutsu lessons years ago: “There hasn’t been a Six Eyes and Limitless user in the last 400 years.”
“I know.” He probably knew more than anyone else. And his lips twitch at the edges- he presses his sweaty forehead to yours. “I know.”
“Satoru, you’re probably one of the strongest sorcerers of two- maybe even the strongest.” Tone picking up in pitch and volume- and frenzy. The ends of your sentence wavered just a little bit at the fresh intrusion of his cocktip, twitching and glazed in cum—and something far more powerful. A layer of Infinity that pushed your sodden walls apart even further. “A-and you’re using it to fuck me—?!”
Another rugged thrust. “What else would I use it for?”
But of course, the suggestion of anything other than feelin’ your sweet, sweet pussy wrapped around him felt almost like blasphemy.
Gojo’s snowy brows furrow at the sudden rush of power- and it takes a little getting used to the ebb and flow of cursed energy, the urge to bend and mold space at his will. But right now he had more important things on his mind. And no matter how much his mind raced—it halted for one thing. One idea.
And the most crazed - almost bemused - grin breaks across his face.
Crooked and slightly off-kilter; he’s focusing all his energy on lacquering that long, looong cock of his with a shatter-proof layer of Infinity. Almost like a…“Condom.” Gojo utters without meaning to.
The half-shocked half-aroused look on your face is enough to make him continue.
“Like a c-condom.” The girth of his tip starts pressing in once more—this time with the added, minute measurement of his Infinity layer. And if you thought that he was big before, then now…and with the added fuzziness of cursed energy? The slight buzzing vibrations that penetrated your inner walls? You’re being driven absolutely insane—
And he’s just fuckin’ to fit inside.
“It feels s-soooo—ngh.” Your voice cracks almost pathetically. “Big.”
“Just big?” Gojo shovels in just a few more inches- almost like it’s never-ending.
Your toes curl. “Long.” You babble. Wringing your moans into the column of his throat - Gojo’s immediately turning his head and capturing your lips with his. “And so- ngh, veiny.”
“Oh? You can still feel them past Infinity?” He asks.
“Y-yes?” As if you could ever not feel those prominent lines imprinted onto his shaft. They formulated the most lecherous patterns that seemed designed to massage your sweetest spots specifically. Just rubbin’ and rubbin’ and making explosions of pleasure burst behind your eyelids—“I can feel e-each and every one-”
“Count them.”
Your eyes flutter open, “What?”
Another few more vicious thrusts- pointed. “Count them.”
Then Gojo’s pressing a chaste peck onto your cute cervix- loving. Pressing a heart-shaped indentation with his cockhead, it squishes ever-so-slightly against the very back of your cunt—and Gojo glides his shaft exhaustively back and forth. Making sure you’re split open on every single vein and indent, and even stimulated by the soft hairs at his base that tickle the top of your folds.
Perhaps The Strongest trills, “I’m waiting~”
“Oh- please.” You’re suddenly brought out of your cockdrunken reverie. Spending every remaining speck of sense in you to count- “There’s a really big one down the middle and…ngh…” Though with the added layer of Infinity coating him, you’re thrown into a frenzy attempting to accurately feel for how many veins decorated his thick shaft. “And then one more- two—?”
Lovingly, he kisses your lips…“Incorrect.”
Your jaw drops.
“Try again.” Gojo smiles sweetly.
And then you’re being fucked even harder- even deeper into the tatami floors until you’re sure the grounds of your Estate would be tattooed against your back. The mats lift and creak as he pummels a few more repeated- thud-thud-thuds against those velvety orifices. “Three-” You manage to gasp. “No- five.”
“Hmmm, wrong again.” Almost with a pout- the fucking nerve of him to pout.
And then he’s holding you to him as he funnels you even harder. The scruff of his happy trail dragging down your clit.
With a huff, you have nothing else to do but hold onto his sweaty, thrashing body for dear life. And with a monumental effort; you’re pushing your thighs ever-so-slightly together and clenching—as hard as you could, you’re suctionin’ off his pistoning cock. Milking him.
Gojo’s brows immediately furrow, and a crack appears in his irresistible grin. He’s letting out what almost sounds like a whimper- before nipping at the sensitive skin on your throat. “Oh…”
“Is it- hck! I think I got it…” You’re uttering. Everything about the way he was fucking you now was just messy and sloppy- from the way his clammy skin stuck to yours, to the way his precum was now drivelling through the layers of his Infinity, to the thump! of veins brushing against where you needed him the most. “It’s six- fuuuuck—”
He’s staring at you with dazed, tear-filled eyes. Unresponsive.
“It’s six, isn’t it?” You ask. Squeezing your heaven-like walls around him once more just to make sure- hard. “It’s six- fuuuuck, can feel six of you just massaging me inside.”
Breathing ragged. Brain ruined.
Gojo stows in his silence as his hips keep rammin’ away into you - he doesn’t need to think about it. He just can’t stop.
You’re running a hand across your stomach, feeling for where he was exerting the most pressure inside your goopy cunt. Shapin’ you to him from the inside out. “A-all the way—here- oh.”
“Correct.”
Rudely, Gojo smacks your hand away and replaces it with his, instead.
Lightning sticks to his fingertips like a second skin, just the most miniscule display of it. And yet, not in the least less powerful. You already know that Gojo’s using his Six Eyes before he starts to speak, “Here. Your walls. Your g-spot. Your womb—they love my cock s’much. All six veins, and all nine inches. Feel that twitchin’ there?”
Stupidly, you’re nodding.
“That’s your pussy begging for more-” Slapping his hips to yours with such aggressive thrusts- each one felt incredible. Each one was hitting eeeevery single spot he needed to and more. Curvin’ the luscious tip of his shaft against your drippin’ wet cervix, “That’s your pussy begging for it- even harder Faster.”
“P-please—” You’re keening. Hands racing up to claw at his bulging biceps.
“Again and again-” Without a single warning, Gojo reaches his free hand down and slaps! your neglected clit. The buzzing cursed energy there makes your eyes roll to the back of your head. “She’s begging to be filled up by me. To feel the seed of the Gojo heir dripping out of her…” Lovingly, he caresses your clit. “She aches until she can keep feeling me between those pretty legs as she walks.”
Another spank.
“She’s obsessed with the strongest, isn’t she?” Whatever quivering, twitching sensations that he can sense with those heightened powers of his—it makes him croon. “You make me so- hah, honest. Good thing m’obsessed with her, too.”
“Enough- I need you to do it.” You sob. “Do it, Satoru- ngh, I want you to cum inside me.”
“I would, it’s just that…” He trails off- just the faintest bit of rationality in his face. “I don’t know how m’gonna take this damn infinity off, sweetheart.” It’s just then that you remember his little ‘condom’ experiment. “Can you try squeezing?”
“Squeezing?” Gawking. But you do.
Just like before, you’re clenching your soaked walls- and it makes the powerful sorcerer buck. Even though he closes his eyes, you can discern his peripherals moving haphazardly behind them—affected. And Gojo pummels out a few more vicious battering rams before he gasps out. “Again.” Head falling into the crook of your neck. “Again- harder.”
And so you do. “L-like this?”
“Harder.”
Practically keeping his cock hostage.
Just one - one - stuttered probe of his ravaged length thereafter- and he’s entirely shattering. Not just in terms of the Infinity that scatters into nothingness—but because the faintest sensation of your tender walls, and he whispers. “I-I think m’gonna…”
“Shut up and cum inside me.” You retort.
And with a single thrust- Gojo dribbles out hot, white cum for the second time tonight. Hard. Powerful.
The minute his splatterin’ cum breaks through his Infinity to end up stirred inside your walls—an emission of powerful cursed energy emanates from his body. It singes his skin. It makes the air tense between you two.
The sudden spike in pressure makes the lightbulb above you shatter-
Only to rain down on the two of you, getting safely discarded by the forcefield of Infinity that Gojo had mindlessly cast as it began falling. And after every single plunge into your gooey, hot depths - scattered bursts of lightning bolt from Gojo’s eyes; eventually skittering around his body and making antiques around the two of you crack the further he crescendos into his euphoria.
Just like before, he was losing it. Except, this time, it’s ending up seeped at the very back of your pussy.
Glistening down your walls and ended up plastered to your cervix.
Using his Six Eyes, he’s managing to fuck every single webbed wad until they’re reaching deeeeeeply at the very back. The very back. Until not a single ounce was left leaking between your legs, and he could see every droplet of it puddled right at your womb- Gojo would rather die than waste a single drop.
And through it all as he fucks you, you’re crashing into your nth high- one after the other. More than just your second.
You dig your nails into Gojo’s muscular shoulders and moan out his name. “Satoru- Sa—” Kissing him deeply. Soft echoes of it still crackle at the back of your throat as he keeps pushing you through peak after peak, wave after wave. “Oh, it feels so- ngh, keep going. It feels so good.” One after the other.
“I can…tell…” So dazed that it was getting hard to speak even. Gojo was overstimulated and working his body to the bone.
The Gojo heir finally opens his eyes again- and you’re feeling a carnal jolt go through you as you’re taking in just how much power whirled beneath them.
Ravenous.
Raging.
His Limitless and his Six Eyes seemed to be battling one another for predominance. Both of them were winning - which just meant that every spark of pleasure he felt was another lightbulb cracked, or a handprint seared into tatami flooring, or a piece of furniture hovering.
So overstimulated.
“I-I need to think of…” Gojo’s eyebrows knit together, and he keeps his gaze downturned to where the two of you were connected. A sheen of sap spread between your inner-thighs, and you’re tugging him even closer. “Need to think of a way-”
“A way to do what, Toru?” You’re asking, after he trails off.
“A way to do…” Those hands twiddlin’ with your clit then form a complex array of signals; not quite practise, but more so just going with intuition. His cursed energy must have a lot to say to him after being cooped up in there for so long. “-this. Unlimited Void.”
There’s a mantra- then a flash.
Then you’re feeling space and time itself bend between your legs. Between your legs. It was like the twisting of air around you, the strange feeling of a vacuum running through your entire body.
And the lights of your entire Estate seem to be shutting down; before you blink through the darkness and make out the shape of Gojo staring lovingly down at your stuffed cunt. The way it bloated around his girth. The loads of cum that kept on trickling out. Your pussy that had a…strange tingling surrounding it that had nothing to do with your own cursed energy-
“Unlimited Void.” Gojo helpfully explains, “That way, I can cum inside your pussy forever.”
“Forever.” You breathe out. “Oh.”
Nuzzling you, “Such a complex mantra. I could only do it because of you.” He highly suspects that it was your honesty technique that helped him face his powers, after all.
You’re unsure how long it takes - but Gojo’s then buckin’ the two of you through another one of his orgasms. Then another one. Then another one- he twists his arm behind his neck and keeps your ankles interlocked, manhandling you backwards whenever he needed to.
Whenever he felt like movin’ you instead of his fatigued body.
Again and again.
He just can’t seem to fill you to the brim now. Squelching between every stuffed thrust.
Cock rock-hard still and doused with so many layers of his own cum. It was just the messiest experience to be stuffing you full like so - no Infinity would’ve been able to hold this back.
Eventually Gojo’s limbs were heavy, his hamstrings aching, his bangs sticking to his forehead. Knees pushing up against the floor in an attempt to clamor upwards—though he just kept sloppily dropping and falling and fucking you as best he could. He was practically collapsing his large body on top of yours n’ merely rutting his cock sloppy in and out - not even proper thrusts. In and out. “Ngh- feels like you’re going to cum again.” He eventually utters.
Your eyes damn-near bulge out of your head. “I can’t possibly-”
But a twist of his cursed energy-covered fingers on your clit, and you’re feeling your next orgasm soar through you. Flashing fast.
“Oh…Satoru.” As he’s churning your insides through another one- you feel a sudden splat! of something wet hitting your shoulder. Eyes snapping open.
That’s when you see that the oh-so-enigmatic Gojo Satoru was crying from overstimulation.
And you didn’t need his Six Eyes to see that he was cumming again- only, this time, he was cumming blanks.
Pretty face scrunched up.
Cheeks glistening with tears. Chin wrinkled.
Choking out sobs at the back of his throat.
His bottom lip was tucked between his teeth, and he’s gagging out a few thick sobs as translucent sap empties out from the end of his cock. His heavy balls having had enough—Gojo’s body was practically forcing himself to stop…but he couldn’t.
No matter how much he was cumming, it still wouldn’t be enough to fill up the Unlimited Void he’d casted on your fucking pussy.
And after a few more ruinous strokes, Gojo’s lurching his head up.
By now, you could reach that look in his eyes. “What?” You ask suspiciously.
“I read this- hah, don’t squeeze me like that I’ll…” Too late, he was pumping out a few more drivelling wads before continuing. “I read this extract in a textbook about Limitless once- that some users have the- ngh, ability to bend space and make a sort of…clone of themselves. Multiple.”
Your jaw drops. “C-clones…” Your cunt already quivered with excitement- letting out a lecherous sound of cum sprayin’ out.
He could read those feelings in you instantly- and he nods. You always did make him so honest.
“How about it, Madam?”
.
.
.
The elders already knew that a new user of Limitless and the Six Eyes had manifested.
Because at that very moment, the world had shook.
It had been impossible for anyone but the two lovers to ignore. And perhaps it was already time when that lone silhouette had stalked all the way to the Gojo Estate: shoulders tense and his blade glinting in his hand. They could say that Gojo Satoru hadn’t been born with cursed energy, but no one could say that he hadn’t clawed himself a reason to live.
Something to live for - someone.
And now, the cruelty of those that had come before was redundant.
That night - after leaving you wiped-down and tucked-in - Gojo had donned his robes and stepped outside into your sprawling gardens, still sore. There, he’d experimented with the rumored teleportation that Limitless users were said to have—and perhaps it really was true what you’d said.
Maybe he really was The Strongest.
Because in no time, Gojo was trained enough to teleport to the Gojo Estate had thought he’d never come back to. Certainly not to finish the job.
With his silver blade, decorated with the silver emblem of the Gojo family, he made those sleek floors run red. Between trees, he was a shadow. He stained the gardens with the foxgloves and the trees he’d always loved - he supposed that no butterflies would be visiting these gardens ever again.
At least he wouldn’t be.
And as Gojo cut down the last one of those elders, he memorized the look on his face. Nothing of the pity and hatred he’d seen all throughout his life—they all wore the same expression now.
Shock. Fear. Knowing - so this was the power of The Strongest.
Some were happy to merely witness it before they died. What an honor it was, to die by his hands.
Gojo wondered whether it scared them more that he’d found his powers, or that he’d come to hone them. Whichever it had been, he hoped they knew now - he was always someone strong.
He was always strong. The last swing of his blade.
Everyone was gone now - his relatives, his elders, his tutors. It was just the outsiders to the Gojo clan that he commanded to run—Ijichi himself had likely taken up quarters at your Estate, and he was determined that no harm should come to the innocent.
But did that make him just as cruel?
He cares not.
Overnight, Gojo Satoru became the head of the Gojo clan, he became a myth: The Strongest. Said to be talked about for centuries to come.
But that was for later.
Gojo steps back on the edge of the portico overlooking the gardens - a sunrise before the Sun could make an appearance. Then he focuses his newfound cursed energy and prepares to teleport right to your side, he couldn’t bear the thought of you waking up alone—everything else could be thought of later.
your upcoming single 'freaky deaky' needed a feature & with ateez's most popular duo seonghwa and hongjoong being approved for the collab, it's time to get in the studio...together.
⤷ 4.4k words. ︴no usage of y/n, threesome, softdom!hongjoong, harddom!seonghwa, hwa's mean, reader's a creamer, westernartist!reader, oral (f! receiving), fingering, nipple play (sucking, pinching), impact play (slapping, spanking), riding, double penetration, spit, choking, unprotected sex, pull out method, your pussy "talks", back shots
〜 hey siri, play “freaky deaky” by doja cat & tyga…
"play it back."
you're in the booth, bulky headphones slung around your neck whilst you bite at the back of a pink pen.
you've been demanding to record the same part over and over again for the past fifteen minutes, being all the perfectionist as you hounded down on the little things: the pitch, tone, and cadence of the chorus.
hongjoong from his place on the other side of the glass curled two fingers, moving them in a come hither motion to get you from being cooped up in the small box of space with your mind running a million miles per minute.
as an artist himself, he knew of how it felt to never be happy during the recording process of a piece, having been many moments where his fellow members have had to tell him to give it a rest. so right now, he wanted to give you the same advice.
seonghwa on the other hand didn't understand how you weren't satisfied with the clips. in his eyes, you sounded like an angel despite the underlying message of the lyrics being those of a sinner.
the title track freaky deaky was exactly what it read. freaky.
at first, when your team reached out and proposed the idea of a collab, they were utterly terrified of what atiny would think of them, as korean media had been known for holding a clean and pure ideology of their idols.
many of their songs had been drafted due to the message being 'too sexual' despite each of the members being well over the age of twenty-one. for so long, they've been waiting for just the right moment to break away from that stigma and tap into the more x rated sides of their lyricism.
as you walked out, blowout curls framing your face, lips glossed with your lashes kissing your cheeks while looking down, smelling like vanilla and cocoa butter, the boys couldn't help but gawk, stare with amusement written on their features as you pouted.
when they had okayed the collaboration, mingi fucking flipped, fanboying at the fact that his hyungs would be interacting with his favorite western artist. there had been many circumstances where mingi listened to your music during lives, speaking about you with heart eyes, and because of it, he made it his mission to give the two a run down on everything he knew about you.
and to say that you lived up to the hype would be an understatement. though, you were just, a little more stubborn than the tabloids explained.
"what's wrong," hongjoong questioned, running a hand through the blond strands of his hair once finished. "you've been on the same part for the past fifteen, easily."
playing with your fingers, you go to respond, hesitant but you know they want an answer. "i don't like the way it sounds, is all," you say. "i'm trying to rework some of the lyrics but it's not fitting."
your bottom lip become victim of assault from the force of your teeth nibbling along it, fully submersed in the depths of your mind as you came up with different word plays that may serve as fit for a phrase but seonghwa's voice could be heard penetrating that blockage.
"come," he spoke, leaving no room for back talk as hongjoong led you to the empty spot beside him, practically caged between the two in low lighting.
engulfed in the smell of their colognes making themselves well acquainted with your senses, mouth wateringly so. it's something you can find yourself getting used to—sweet, spicy, and dark notes mixing with your own.
you would be lying if you said you hadn't been attracted to them, knowing damn well you pushed your team to make the collab happen in any way they could for that exactly reason.
for quite some time now, you'd been a big fan of their work, even going as far as calling yourself an atiny. their progress as a korean group turned global pop stars was admirable, and you couldn't help but notice they each were insanely good looking. an added plus per say.
reaching over to the master board, hongjoong messed around with a few buttons before pressing play on the track, immediately followed with the sound of the intro beat blasting through the overhead speakers.
when your voice had finally slit through the background, the two found themselves lighting bopping their heads along to it, humming at certain parts, but when it hit a specific spot, you stiffened, tuning in on that one rhythm that just didn't seem to flow with the rest.
"right there, wait," you sat up, going to stop the track but a firm hand on the back of your neck had to rooted to the seat, hands falling to your lap almost immediately.
seonghwa had squeezed just enough to make you feel it, have your head floating just enough to the point of compliance because with the tell-tale signs making themselves well known, you were nothing short of a brat and needed a more hands on way of learning. "let it play out," he spoke, voice stern yet not harsh, except deep in a low register with an accent underlying his words.
the entire night, seonghwa has sat and watched as hongjoong played good cop, sweet talking you, wiping the corner of of lips with his thumb after ordering pizza, talking you through the different steps of working the booth output, but still, you hadn't cracked just yet. "we'll go back and fine tune later but let's play it through and see what we're working with."
with hesitation written along the furrow of a brow, you reluctantly agree, swallowing thickly at the weight and warmth of seonghwa's palm, only being able to breathe properly once it dropped, resting prettily along the surface of your thigh closest to his.
he's grinning like a madman at each and every reaction drawn from you, watching with cloudy eyes as you squirm in his hold, and he knows now that the not so subtle looks you've been shooting he and hongjoong hadn't been a figment of his imagination.
all of the eyelash batting, trailing your eyes down to their lips when they spoke, asking them if they liked your lipgloss as you reapplied it while holding eye contact, your small hands going to grasp at their clothes when you needed them to do something—you were a sneaky little thing, but unfortunately, they've handled brats like you. ones that need a breaking into.
you want them just as much as they want you, an unspoken lust heightened at the close proximity along with the sensuality of their part of the song.
their voices are smooth as they take turns rapping, lyrics akin to dirty talk and one can't help but imagine their duality in a completely different setting. one that involves the lack of clothing but the addition of skin on skin.
your thighs tighten, rubbing together just slightly as the material of your velour juicy couture sweatpants warm up in accommodation to the heat that radiates from your cunt, breath hitching in your throat when the song comes to a point where the three of you finish each other's phrases, the teasing and playfulness of it all makes you dizzy.
but when seonghwa feels you shift, he's drawing closer to your ear to speak, breath hot on the shell and it tingles, makes your belly erupt with a thousand butterflies. "mama, i can feel how warm you're running," he speaks, just barely leaning in your touch, hand trailing up to cup the warmth between your legs.
"you need us, baby? that why you acting like this?" he's unbelievably close, so much so that you have look up to meet his eye, neck craning back at his height.
beside you, hongjoong replays the track, except this time, he's done a few tweaks to the pitch and the echoing, and once he's done, music resuming it's boom through the speakers, his hands are on you, pushing up your legs so that your knees rest on either side of your ears. "no need to act coy with us, pretty. we've got you. tell us what you want."
your breath hitches in your throat that goes dry, mind turning to mush as seonghwa teases your clit through your sweatpants, fingers undeniably long and nimble whilst running over where you need most. "please," you say, but that isn't enough for the two who continue to bait you with a glimpse of what's soon to happen.
hongjoong kneels before you, knees kissing the ground and his jeans bunch up, low on his waist so that you can see the band of his supreme boxers. "please what," he goes to speak, laying a singular kiss to your clothed pussy and they laugh as you clinch beneath it, both being able to feel it happen.
"so fuckin' needy. just tell us what it is that you want." seonghwa's mean, you've learned. the way he speaks to you is harsh, a stark difference from the way his friend treats you like a princess, sweet in each of your interactions. but it's grounding, makes your tongues curl in anticipation. "we might give it to you."
so you swallow thickly, mustering up the courage to do as told. "kiss me. i want you to kiss me while hongjoong eats my pussy," you say, cowering when they seem darker, their eyes slitted, boring into you with a glint behind them that you can't quite put your finger on.
seonghwa presses his lips to yours with fervor, tongues clashing, noses rubbing together because neither of you wants to back down, but best believe he has something store for you, just you wait. the man is ready to wreck your shit but he'll let the captain indulge for a moment before he gets his way.
hongjoong's sliding both your sweatpants and pretty, frilly panties down the length of your thighs, his mouth watering almost instantly as he catches sight of your pretty pussy leaking, glistening with a honeyed slick and he can't help but dart his tongue out to get a taste, humming when he does so.
and that cues a side of him that flips like a light-switch, his palms going to push at the back of your knees so that you're folded completely in half with the flat of your foot placed on his shoulders, rendered immobile so that you can't squirm away from his hold.
it makes the man you're kissing laugh, parting enough so that he can speak. "you've made a bad decision choosing hongjoong for the job," he starts, resting his chin on your shoulder while reaching a free hand down to pull at his captain's blond hair. "he'll have you fuckin' crying, b. i swear to god."
hongjoong's face is covered in your essence already, gleaming under the led lights of the studio. he's loud, sloppy in the way he eats, pushing himself deeper into you as if he's melting. when he eats pussy, it's because he wants to, because he gets off on it. his eyes roll back, only showing the whites as he pushes his tongue past your entrance.
you groan, back arching to the point where your chest pushes up and seonghwa takes the liberty of pulling down the neck of your top, freeing your tits from confinement and he's happy to see that you have piercings, metal bars going straight through the nipple and stopped by two matching hearts on each side.
his mouth latches around one, sucking it, twirling his tongue around the erect pebbles when he's not pulling at the piercing with his teeth. he wants to make you feel it. wants it to hurt. so he brings the unoccupied one to his hand, bringing his palm down sharply in the medium of a slap.
one, two, three...four.
his hits are hard, making the skin sting an angry red and you jerk with each one. "hwa, hwa...please," you cry, going to tangle your fingers in the midnight black strands of the overgrown hair at his nape to hold him to your chest. "don't be mean to me."
he bites your nipple teasingly, grinning with it still between his teeth when he goes to pull away, spitting in a glob so that he can suck it back up with ease.
you're overstimulated with the feeling of two mouths on you at once, hongjoong still in between your legs eating like a man starved. greedy is what defines him. not being able to get enough of the honey you spew.
you go to push him away with your free hand, pressing it his forehead in hopes of creating a space between you but seonghwa's quick to react, gathering both your wrists within his grasp with ease. "don't push him the fuck away. be gracious," he says, slapping your tit once more because you obviously haven't learned enough manners. "apologize."
tears run down your face in a stream, the gloss on your swollen lips long gone as they part when you go to speak. "i'm—mm fuck. i'm sorry."
seonghwa tuts, moving his hand to the back of your neck once more to tilt your head down, forced to look hongjoong directly in the eye. "don't tell me. you need to convince him."
your breathing picks up as the blond flicks his tongue faster, teasing your clit with the back and forth motion, and now you know exactly how you've made a grave mistake letting hongjoong go down on you.
he's ruthless, determined. unfazed when your feet grow heavy to try and push him away because he overpowers you easily, watching with hungry eyes as you grind your way up into his mouth, chasing after that oh so delicious feeling that bubbles up in your gut the more he slurps you up.
"i'm sorry, joong," you cry out, hips swiveling so no spot of your cunt is left untouched. it's endearing seeing you ride his face like a harley, rocking back and forth with an added quickness the more his nose nudges against your clit.
"i think he deserves better than that," seonghwa starts, chuckling as he squeezes your throat tightly so that he can feel your blood racing beneath your skin, loving how reactive you are to each of their ministrations, earning a high pitched moan from buried deep within. "don't you, cap?"
he nods, removing his lips from between your legs and you whine, going to pull him back but seonghwa is again bringing a palm down, but this time, it's directed to your pussy, slick flying to your thighs, lower tummy, everywhere upon impact. "stop fucking playing and sit still. are you that dumb?"
you shake your head, hips twitching from the cool air of the ac that batters against you, feeling so...empty. seonghwa's hand is still firmly around your throat, shaking you from side to side to see your tongue jut between your lips.
suddenly, you feel two slender fingers slide into you, the sound of squelching splitting through the air akin to a knife. your pussy swallows them whole, toes flexing when they curl up against that special spot.
"you still have some apologizing to do, baby," hongjoong finally speaks, thrusting the digits in and out of you slowly, stretching you out. "i'm not so convinced you're really sorry. "
"i am," you say, each jab against your spongey walls breaking at the glass of cognizance in your mind. just a moment longer and you'll be done for, singing in tongues as your only form of communication because of how spent you are. "i really fucking am."
his thumb presses to your clit, rubbing in circles for an added stimulation and the white hot fire that burns within your gut intensifies, feeling just moments away from creaming. "yeah?" hongjoong asks, a feigned expression of sorrow plastering itself on his face in bold ink. "then give me what i want."
you really want to so you nod, bottom lip wobbly as you feel yourself becoming undone. "okay."
seonghwa laughs in your ear. "well aren't you just so fuckin' sweet, mama," he chips in, voice condescending when he speaks. "go ahead, then. don't keep him waiting."
your chin tips back until it's pointing to the ceiling, lips parted, eyes scrolled to the back of your head because hongjoong's fingers speed up, the squelching loud, embarrassingly so.
chest heaving, mind floating off into the welcoming hands of release, you're on another planet, walls fluttering down along hongjoong's fingers as cream flows from you in waves.
it's a lot. running down your thighs, his wrist. pooling at the leather couch beneath you.
you have to watch as he finally pulls his fingers from their place within you, licking up everything you've given him with a hum. "so good, baby," he starts, tongue swirling over his own digits. "i believe you need to clean up your mess, though, hm?"
he swipes up all the cream you've left—or at least he tries to, hand trailing up to breach past your lips. "open," seonghwa demands.
and you do with pleasure, welcoming him inside your mouth to suck him clean without hesitation.
they watch as you commit to the act, leaning into it, putting on a show of bringing them deeper inside so that you gag. they'll make sure to put that to use very soon.
but now, seonghwa is roughing you up, hands firm at your underarms to lift you onto his lap, chest to chest with your mouth hovering over his own. "ride my shit," he says, pulling himself out from the confinement of his sweatpants.
you look down between the both you you and gasp at the sight. he's big, a curve pointing upward, tip leaky and flushed as he drags in palm up and down his cock that stiffens.
"that's not gonna fit, hwa." your voice is shaky, worried long it's gonna take time bottom out.
he grins, smile wide as it taunts you. "you're gonna take it. you're a big girl, right?" he grabs at your hips and instinctively, your hands move to his shoulders, holding yourself up. "talk all that shit in your songs but scared of the real thing?"
you huff, never one to back down from a challenge. the last thing you need is for him to go along and brag to his members about how the pretty little western artist everyone's been feening over is a poser, one that can't even handle a little bit of dick. "never scared of you."
his eyebrows raise, "hm, then show me."
and he watches as you take ahold of his base and align him to your entrance, tip pushing past the tightened ring before you're sliding down with knitted brows and clenched fists.
"shitt," he moans, arms going to wrap around your waist, pulling you so that you're filling seated and he's nestled all the way inside. you're tight despite hongjoong fucking you open with his fingers, hugging him well, dripping down to his balls until it soils his grey bottoms.
seonghwa lets you make the first move, waiting until you're ready to bounce to rest the waters and best believe he has to stop himself from thrusting his hips upward, dying to fuck into you and set you straight.
you take the back of of his neck within your hands, pressing your lips to his in hopes of soothing the ache of him between your legs with a whine.
and his tongue intertwines with yours, wet and sloppy. spit runs down your face, coating his chin and lips, and once you're ready, you're lifting your ass just to bring it back down, clapping against his upper thighs deliciously.
soon, he's repositioning you, hand going to move your feet so that your ankles cross while the other pins your wrists to your back, holding onto them as he bucks into you with a groan.
"hwa, shit—mm, you're so fucking good, oh my god," you cry out, bottom lip ticking into your mouth as your chest drops onto his, head hanging off his shoulder when he pushes you down and keeps you still.
"take this shit," he says, quickening his pace as your pussy starts talking. he coos at you, turning his head to the side to kiss at your exposed neck. "look at that. you got her singing to me and shit."
bouncing back, your mind is on overdrive, a warm, tingly feeling blanketing over you at the pleasure you're receiving. he's beating your pussy in like it owed him something. in and out, in and out with a passion.
"d'you forget about me, baby," you hear hongjoong speak from behind you, gathering your hair and pulling your head back so that you meet his eye.
you feel his dick pressing against your backside, hard and long. it begs for attention. and you give it to him, following seonghwa letting go one of your wrists so that you can stroke it languidly and the softness of your hand makes his footing stagger. "put it in," you plead, whining as seonghwa grabs the front of your throat.
"oh fuck, you really want that," hongjoong asks, feeling his abdomen clench just at the thought.
"mmph—yes, daddy, i want you both inside me," you respond and he smiles, leaning down to kiss you shortly but before he pulls away, he's dropping a glob of spit onto the flat of your tongue.
"go ahead," he demands and you know what he wants, quick to adhere to his request as you swallow. "good girl."
you giggle when taps your cheek, hitting you as a sign of gratitude and is pleased to see that you like it, the arch in your back deepening to urge him on.
he takes the bait and pressed down on your lower back, pushing you further down on seonghwa as he slides into your pussy alongside his fellow member, their dick stacked on-top of each other and stretching you open.
it hurts. taking the two of them at the same time makes you feel like you may pass out but it's a pain that doesn't come without pleasure. hitting something within you that hasn't been satisfied in such a way.
the two of them let out matching groans, pace slow and steady as they adjust. you're tense, clenching, rigid as hongjoong bottoms out.
it makes him rub on your sides, trying to get you to calm down because with your state the way it is, it'll be a lot harder to push in. "it's okay, baby. relax for me," he speaks softly, bending at the waist to kiss up your spine.
and you try, you really do, melting when again, seonghwa kisses you deeply, getting your mind off of the stretch so that he and hongjoong can plunge in before alternating to pull out.
they create a rhythm so good that it rivals any beat you've made in all your career, and your pussy seems to think so too, welcoming them in with a queef.
tears begin the flowing, eyeliner running as you feel overstimulated from head to toe. you never would've thought this would be the predicament you're put in: situated on seonghwa's lap while he and hongjoong share you.
"i'm gonna cum," seonghwa speaks up between parted moments, teeth sinking into your lip to suppress the guttural moan that draws from the tip of his toes. "fuck, you're milking me."
his hips stutter, "fuck, fuck, fuckk. get up.”
and when you don't have the strength to, he's lifting you as if you weighted nothing, pulling out as cum shoots from his tip in ropes. it’s a lot, trailing down his stomach as his chest heaves rapidly. he can’t help the pumping of his hips, still riding the waves of the aftershock of it all.
hongjoong laughs, looking over at his fucked out form that glimmers with sweat. “wore you out, huh?”
seonghwa gives him the middle finger, running a hand through his hair while the other grasps at the back of the couch.
you shake as the blond is still fucking you from behind, only now, he has the room to roam, hips slamming into yours until your ass jiggles on impact. “shit so fucking good,” he moans, head thrown back as he grabs your shoulders, using the position to drag you back to him.
“too much,” you shake, thighs quivering because he’s pounding you by now, thrusts hard and firm as you meet in the middle, cream coating him in a ring around the base.
he shrugs it off. “you got it.”
you feel the dam of your release budge, the knot in your tummy unraveling as your pussy flutters. “i’m about to cum, joong,” you warn, whining as he doesn’t let up, plunging into you with a force.
“let go. i wanna see it, baby.”
that sends you over the edge, toes curling tight as you collapse to the point where hongjoong has to hold you up, arms like jelly.
and the feeling of your walls butterflying him, fluttering with a constriction, his knees lock, balls pumping as his own nears. “oh my god,” he hisses out, removing himself from you and pumps his dick a few times before he’s spilling it, cum lining your back like icing.
you have to rub at your pussy to subdue the delicious throb between your legs, still gaping from the absence of them.
upon gathering himself, before he sits, hongjoong leans down to press a kiss to your clit, and slaps your ass, happy to see it jump from sensitivity. so cute but your team has a set due date.
