18+ riding your nerdy bf till his glasses fall off ˚₊·͟͟͞͞♡
There’s something incredibly hot about riding your nerdy boyfriend until his glasses slide down his nose. He’s usually so composed, always in button-ups, always with those cute wire-rimmed glasses perched on his face, always muttering about formulas or code or whatever he’s nerding out about that day. But right now? He’s a complete mess.
You’re straddling his hips, knees planted firmly on the mattress, riding him to the hilt. Every roll of your hips makes his thick length slide perfectly inside you, hitting that spot that makes you moan softly. His hands are gripping your thighs, fingers digging in like he needs something to hold onto.
“Baby—” he stammers, voice cracking. His glasses are already slipping, sliding down the bridge of his nose as his head tips back against the pillow. His cheeks are flushed, hair messy, lips parted as he tries (and fails) to keep his breathing steady. You smile down at him, grinding your hips in a slow circle, watching the way his eyes flutter behind the fogging lenses.
“You look so cute like this,” you murmur, leaning down to kiss him. His glasses bump against your nose, but you don’t care. You just keep riding him, faster now, taking him deeper. He moans into your mouth, hips jerking up to meet yours. One of his hands slides up your back, the other stays on your hip, guiding you as you bounce up and down on him.
“God, you feel so good,” he breathes, voice shaky. “I can’t- I’m gonna—” His glasses finally slip off completely, landing somewhere on the pillow beside his head. His eyes, those pretty, unfocused eyes, lock onto yours, wide and desperate.
You ride him harder, chasing your own pleasure while watching him fall apart underneath you. When you come, clenching tight around him, he follows right after with a broken groan, hips stuttering as he spills deep inside you.
Afterward, he lies there panting, glasses askew on the pillow, looking completely wrecked and blissed out. You lean down and kiss him softly, brushing his messy hair back from his forehead. He laughs breathlessly, wrapping his arms around you and pulling you down to his chest.
— SUMMARY: Michael’s sleeping over at your house for the first time without your family there. You decide to play a game and give him a taste of your favorite lipgloss.
— WARNINGS: sub!mike, fluff, dual loss of virginity, face-fucking, oral, fingering, protected sex, dry humping, premature ejaculation, scent kink (?), reader is a tease, reader is experienced, use of daddy to tease, manipulation (sorta), michael is lowkey a himbo LMAO, dirty talk, pleasure dom reader. jermaine feature.
— WC: 7.7k (let’s all act surprised).
— A/N: Loosely based on this request. Let’s pretend the strawberry shirt he has on in the photo is a pj shirt. Please leave feedback in the comments and don’t forget to like and reblog!
Michael was absolutely buzzing with excitement today. This evening, he’d be sleeping over at his girlfriend’s house for the very first time. The best part? The two of you would be completely alone.
He honestly didn’t know why he was so excited about the alone aspect of it all, though. It’s not like he was brave enough to do anything more than hold your hand.
The two of you had fooled around before, you mostly taking charge, but his brain got so fuzzy around you. Any sense of self or right and wrong would go out the window as soon as he smelled your honey glaze scented lipgloss.
He’d spent the day driving around and shopping with his brother Jermaine, making sure to pick up things you’d mentioned liking the last time the two of you browsed through retail catalogues. The fuzzy white comforter you imagined sprawled at the end of your bed, the cute pajama set he couldn’t wait to see you in, and the stunning golden charm bracelet from your favorite jewelry store, were all carefully strewn across Jermaine’s backseat, a cute enveloped note written to accompany them sitting on top of the pile.
“Mike, this girl’s got you whipped! You droppin’ 3 thousand on a lil’ bracelet?” Jermaine asked with an incredulous laugh after the two settled into his car, driving along the Santa Monica Pier.
“Maine, she’s not just some girl. She’s the love of my life,” he said with a wistful sigh. “Besides, 3 thousand is nothin’. I’d hang the moon and stars for her,” Michael responded earnestly. He’d do a lot for you for no reward at all; just the thought that it was something that convenienced you even a fraction was enough.
“See, this exactly what I mean. Doin’ all that for her and you haven’t even laid down with the girl yet.” The older brother laughed at Michael’s ‘yes man’ attitude toward you, finding the idea of his superstar brother being a total worm for you hilarious.
“We’ve done plenty!” he defended, not enjoying the idea of his older brother seeing him as less experienced for what he’d allowed himself to explore regarding his sex life.
“Like what?” Jermaine questioned, raising a disbelieving eyebrow.
“It doesn’t matter! And I don’t see relationships as transactional anyway. The fact that she even likes me is enough.”
A beat of silence settled over the car as Jermaine drove away from the boardwalk, pulling up the car’s hood as they approached a crowd of teenaged girls dancing to one of their older songs, not wanting to be recognized.
When they finally hit the freeway, Michael spoke.
“What do you do?”
“Whatchu mean?” Jermaine pressed.
“Like, how do you…start? Makin’ love, I mean.” Michael cleared his throat.
“We’ve done stuff before, I wasn’t lyin’ about that. But we haven’t gone all the way. She makes me too nervous, ‘n I’m scared of…I don’t want it to end so fast,” he rambled on, realizing Jermaine wasn’t going to interrupt him and was actually giving this some thought.
“You gotta just let it happen, man. I mean, I usually lay the girl down ‘n start kissin’ up on her, but I don’t see you bein’ the type to…” he trailed off in thought. “Just build up tension. Start givin’ her the eyes, ya know? She’ll get the hint.”
“The eyes? Maine, I can barely get close to her in the moment without goin’ dumb.” Michael wiped his hand across his face, trying to cool himself down before he started blushing.
“Here, how’s this?” Jermaine exited the freeway and began demonstrating what he meant at the red light.
“Take your hand, place it on her shoulder like this, look her up ‘n down from her lips to her eyes, and give her a lil’ smirk. She’ll know.” He accelerated on the gas pedal as the light turned green.
“O-okay. Yeah that seems easy enough,” Michael responded shyly.
“Don’t bring this up to anyone else, Maine. I’ll kill you,” he added, realizing how vulnerable he’d gotten. He’d never hear the end of it from Marlon if this got out.
At exactly half past 5, Michael was ringing at your doorbell, your gifts and his belongings in tow. He told Bill he was spending two nights at your place, reminding him not to be seen by your neighbors during his patrols, and basically flew to your doorstep.
You opened it almost immediately, seeming just about as excited as he was, and plastered your lips onto his in an intimate kiss- too intimate for your front door.
“Hi, my pretty boy. Let’s get you inside, yeah?” you greeted him, noticing the way he flustered up at the nickname.
“Yeah…” he said with a ditzy grin across his face.
“O-oh! I got you these gifts!” he announced with pride. He was carrying them and all of his belongings for the sleepover in one hand, determined to not let you help him carry anything.
You pushed the door wide for him to come in, knowing better than to offer to help him. He seemed to be moving without thinking, just taking steps by pure instinct. As he neared the staircase leading to the upstairs bedrooms, you could see the defeat dawn across his face.
“C’mon, baby. Lemme at least just carry one bag. I’m a big girl.” You took his duffel bag, presumably with his belongings, and led the way, not giving him a second to stop you.
He sighed dramatically and trailed up the steps behind you, his fingers that were straining under the heavier duffel bag feeling relief from the absence of its weight.
As you pushed into your bedroom, the scent of fresh linen and cinnamon wafted into his nostrils, a sudden comfort settling into his bones at the now familiar scent. You shrugged your robe off your shoulders, and Michael realized you were already in your pajamas. He took his duffel bag from your hands, sat down his belongings, and handed you your first gift.
“I’m realizin’ it’s probably too late for this now, but here! I have a feeling you’ll love ‘em.” He was practically vibrating in anticipation.
“I can’t believe you brought me gifts, Mikey. You’re so thoughtful.” You gave him a quick peck and opened the gift box. Inside sat the pj set you fawned over with Michael 2 weeks ago at your kitchen table. It was a red and white gingham two piece set with strawberry pockets on the butt of the mini shorts. The top was a lace-trimmed camisole that stopped just above your hipbone and was see through around the flowy skirt of it. And it was perfect.
“Oh, Michael! I’m putting this on immediately, are you kidding? This is perfect! Thank you so much.” You grabbed him with both hands by the face and littered his burning cheeks in kisses.
“It was nothin’. Here, open the others!” He was eating up your reactions. You jumped up and down at the blanket and tried to pick him up and spin him once you saw the bracelet.
“Hey, let go!” he’d declared in protest with a surprised chuckle at your strength.
“Put it on me, baby,” you told him, breathless, as you let go of his torso.
With a shy smile, he followed your demand mindlessly.
“Do you like it?” he asked, knowing you did. He just wanted to hear you say it.
“I adore it. The first charm I’m gonna buy will be a little ‘M’ just for you. Wouldn’t that be so cute?” you asked him, twisting your wrist around in the warm lighting of your bedroom.
“You’d do that?” he asked you, genuinely surprised by the act of possession.
“Of course! I’d tattoo your name across my chest,” you responded with a quick kiss to his lips as you made your way to your restroom with your new pajama set in hand.
The idea of you tattooing his name on you filled him with a sickening amount of pride.
You stepped back into the room almost as quickly as you left it, and you looked unreal. The cups in the top held your breasts up in just the right way, and the sheer, flowy bottom of it put your torso on full display for him. The shorts were no better. You gave him a twirl, and when his eyes met your backside, he nearly fell at your feet. Your strawberry-adorned ass was sitting prettily in the fabric, the bottom of your soft cheeks on full display for his greedy eyes. You turned back around and sauntered over to him.
“You look perfect,” he complimented you with a dumb smile.
“Hmm, do I?” you teased him as you unzipped his jacket for him.
“Yes, perfect…” he said, losing his train of thought as his eyes fell to the barely-there neckline of your top. He absentmindedly let you pull the jacket off, completely distracted by the view in front of him.
“Get comfortable, baby. I’m gonna go get us popcorn and oj. Then I’ll pick a movie. How’s that sound?” you asked him, knowing he was barely even paying attention.
“Hmm? Yeah, sounds great…” he responded, not able to find more words.
“Michael. Shower. Now.” You turned on your heel and walked with an extra bounce in your step, purposely doing so to make your ass move a bit more as you stepped. He drank it all up and unpacked his stuff in a daze.
He realized he forgot to bring his own body soap, and reveled in the idea of using yours. He couldn’t wait to smell like his girl. It was all he thought about during the 15-minute shower as he lathered up, scrubbed his body, and rinsed off. He brought his own lotion and toothpaste, disgruntled by the idea that he had no excuse to use yours. After he finished moisturizing, he left the room with a small smile, and placed his clothes into your hamper.
He saw you sitting comfortably on the soft carpet at the foot of your bed, your robe on your shoulders and a deck of cards sat in front of you alongside your snacks. You’d brought 2 big slices of homemade pizza, a bottle of tobasco, wet wipes for your hands, and two water bottles, alongside the share-size bowl of popcorn and two glasses of orange juice you’d mentioned. Bambi was in your VCR displaying the main menu, waiting to be played.
He approached you quietly while holding his breath, his mind going crazy at the sight of your legs crossed in front of you. They were making him nervous. He loved your legs.
You looked up at him and a cocky smile spread across your lips.
“You found a matchin’ shirt, huh?” you pressed your index finger to his torso as he sank down next to you, finding the idea of him searching for something to go with your sleep set cute.
“Oh…Yeah, is the matchin’ too much? I just wanted to…” he trailed off, unable to find any excuse that didn’t expose his intentions.
“I love it, baby. We look cute together.” You wrapped your arms around his neck and gave him a kiss on his jaw. A shiver ran down his spine.
“Eat. I just got this out of the oven, so it should still be hot.” You picked up his plate of pizza and handed it to him, watching with a devious glint in your eye as he obeyed your command. He said a quick prayer, blew the slice, and took a hearty bite while looking deep into your eyes.
“Thank you so much. It’s really good,” he said earnestly, covering his food-filled mouth as he spoke.
“Thank you. Now eat up. I’m gonna start the movie and we can play cards while we watch, when we’re done with the pizza.”
You did just as you said and so did he, eagerly at that. You’d think he didn’t have a brain for his own with the way he just did whatever you told him to. He was wrapped tightly around your pinky finger, just how you liked him.
After you beat him for the fourth time at Go Fish, the movie long having ended, you had him help you bring down your empty dishes and soiled wet wipes downstairs to clean and get rid of.
“I have a game I wanna play,” you stated casually as you handed him the soapy pizza pan you just washed. He rinsed and dried it immediately.
“What is it?” he asked with a little too much enthusiasm. He would do anything if it meant being in your presence.
“It’s…not really an official game. Just somethin’ I sorta made up. You’re gonna like it though.” You said the last sentence as an order, not an assumption. His stomach turned with excitement at the sternness in your voice. “Finish rinsing and drying these and I’ll go brush my teeth ‘n set it up for us. You also brush your teeth when you’re done.”
You left him to the task and hurried up the stairs. You were much more excited than you were letting on tonight. You’d went on a little shopping trip yourself, earlier, spending spent the day at different makeup and department stores meticulously picking out an assortment of flavored lipglosses and chapsticks. You wanted to try them all on and have Michael guess what each flavor was after kissing you. The thought came to you after a particularly vivid dream of him begging you to wear your honey glaze scented gloss while you fucked. You decided you wanted him to be like that after any scent he ever smelled from there on out.
After brushing your teeth, you took off your robe and then laid all of the lip products evenly on your fluffy carpet, and placed your black eye mask beside them, waiting patiently for your boyfriend to leap up the stairs.
As he made it inside your room from your bathroom, having entered it from the hallway, he took in your position and the random scene in front of you, lifting an eyebrow.
“What kinda game is this?” he asked, sounding almost frightened.
“It’s a chapstick challenge. I put on a layer of one of the glosses or lip balms, and you guess the flavors by french kissing me,” you responded with a dazzling smile.
“K-kiss…Okay.” He was already losing it by the mere idea of the game. “And I wear the blindfold?” he inquired.
“Yep. No peeking, understand?” you said, faux seriousness laced into your voice.
“Yes, ma’am,” he responded, only half jokingly with the honorific, with his left hand to his temple in a fake salute.
You placed the blindfold over his thick afro, leaving it up just above the eyes, before giving him a kiss. You pulled away and bit your lip at the dazed look on Michael’s face.
You got up- slightly bouncing your ass again- to turn on the record player sitting on your bedside dresser, and adjusted the volume to a comfortable background hum, setting the ambience.
You plopped back down in front of him, and he looked at you hungrily, licking his lips and trying to ignore the lust growing in his abdomen.
“Can I know the flavors, please? Or am I going into this blind?” he inquired.
“We’ll do 7. They’re pretty easy to guess, so I’m making you go in blind. You’re fine with that though, aren’t you baby? You’ll be the best guesser ‘cuz you’re just so smart, right?” you cooed at him, knowing the way you spoke to him would get him to move a mountain for you if you told him to.
“Y-yeah I’m…It’ll be easy.” Bingo.
You pulled the mask over his eyes and opened the first chapstick, the pop of the lid unsealing catching his surprise since his non visual senses were heightened. Cherry. Easy. You applied a generous layer and rubbed your lips together as you inched toward his face.
You pressed your lips to his harshly and he got to work immediately. His tongue explored your lips much longer than it should’ve. This was one of the easiest flavors to guess, by far. He was being greedy. You pulled away with a pop, smirking at his neediness.
“Ch-cherry?” he asked, like it wasn’t obvious.
“You sure you don’t wanna search some more? That was one of the easiest. You could’ve been more sly about it,” you said teasingly.
“‘M s-sorry. I just love your lips…” he trailed off, embarrassed.
“I’m just teasin’. Of course it was cherry. One point to you! Good job, Mikey.” His lip twitched at the praise.
Peach was next. It wasn’t too hard, but the scent threw off the flavor; it smelled like mango. That was the exact reason you chose it. The ambiguity left room for more.
You repeated your earlier ministrations of application, and kissed him again, this time scooting a little closer to his body. You even cupped his jaw with your hand, eliciting such a soft whine, you were almost convinced you misheard it.
The kiss was longer this time, but purposely. You even took the opportunity to pull at his hair the tiniest bit, smiling against his lips as he made a surprised sound at the back of his throat. He pulled away this time, out of breath.
“That one stumped me. It smells way different than it tastes. I’m gonna guess somethin’ fruity…Peach?” he guessed.
“You got it!” you responded, genuinely surprised. “That one was one of the hardest ones. Didn’t it smell like mango?”
“Yes, that’s what that smell was! It confused me bad.” He chuckled softly, as he reached his hand out toward you, searching for your waist. You reached out to his hand and guided it to where he wanted it, biting your lip at the contact.
This flavor was watermelon. You applied the sticky balm to your lips and smacked them loudly, warning him of your impact this time. He met your lips with ease and immediately got to sucking and licking. His free hand cupped the back of your neck and he deepened the kiss, sliding his tongue past your lips and into your mouth. He moaned when your wet muscle met his, then pulled back, chest heaving.
“Just been waitin’ to do that. I know it was watermelon,” he announced proudly.
“Someone’s gettin’ a lil antsy, huh?” you responded, trying to conceal your bated breath. His lips faltered at the teasing, trying and failing to find an excuse.
“It’s okay, baby. I like when you get desperate.” He bit his lip and covered his face with his hands.
You reached for the next lip balm, this one being cinnamon flavored. He loved cinnamon, which was the reason you bought it. You lathered it on and pulled his hands away from his cheeks, meeting his lips once more. You decided to turn it up a notch by placing his hands right under your breasts and sliding a hand onto his chest, feeling his heart hammering pathetically under your touch, and throwing one of your legs over his. He gasped slightly and pulled you closer, his fingers holding you with a firm grip.
You led the kiss this time, almost forgetting you were playing a ‘game.’ You bit his lip and sucked his tongue just enough to make him squirm, and pulled away.
“What flavor?” you asked him smugly, staring at the slight sheen of lipgloss scattered about his chin and mouth. He didn’t respond, mouth still slightly hanging open with a dazed grin.
“What’s the matter? Cat gotcha tongue?” you continued teasing.
“No, I…You make me forget things,” he admitted sheepishly.
Scratching his neck while keeping one of his hands on your body, he continued.
“Well, I definitely know that was cinnamon. That’s my guess.”
“I knew you’d get that one. I thought of you specifically when I bought it,” you admitted. You poked his nose and absentmindedly applied the next gloss. It was one you already owned and the two of you absolutely adored. Honey glaze.
You smacked your lips one more, letting yourself taste the flavor as you did so, and settled yourself fully on top of his lap now. You felt how hard he was and ground against him languidly once. He whimpered at the contact immediately.
“Aww, my baby’s getting this turned on just from kissing? What am I gonna do with you?” you cooed at him, your breath fanning over his lips. His dick jumped immediately.
“Oh. You’re wearing my favorite…honey glaze.” His knowledge surprised you.
“You peeked, didn’t you?” you questioned him suspiciously.
“N-no! I just…I love the smell of this one. I can recognize it anywhere. Please kiss me,” he whined.
You leaned in and the kiss turned sloppy immediately.
He gripped your waist hungrily with both of his hands, and rocked up into your crotch desperately. You moaned against his tongue as he licked your mouth inside and out, drool sliding down your cheek.
The both of you got incredibly lost in the moment, allowing your need for each other to bubble up sporadically. You ground harshly against his erection and sucked his neck, leaving a bruise in its wake. He moaned once really loudly, and his hips jerked against yours. Then, his hands flew from your waist and ripped the blindfold off of his face.
“‘M sorry. I need to use the restroom,” he quickly mumbled out. He gently slid from underneath you, then made a beeline for your bathroom door.
“Mich-” you called after him breathlessly as the door shut.
“Damnit,” he mumbled as he pulled down his pants. His cum sat proudly against the fabric of his boxers, much to his annoyance. He grabbed a wet wipe and cleaned his crotch wildly, the cold wetness making him shiver. He couldn’t believe he let himself go like that. Sliding his underwear off, he internally cursed himself for being so embarrassing. He washed his hands and entered the room again, his head hanging low and his underwear balled into his fist. He put it inside your hamper and then sat on the edge of your bed without a word, avoiding your gaze.
You knew exactly what happened, and it made you cocky.
“Mikey, baby. I know you came your pants,” you announced crudely. You sat down next to him with a wicked smile tugging at your lips.
“It’s embarrassing. We didn’t even do anything…” He sniffed in shame.
“Baby, it’s flattering. I’m glad to know that you get that horny for me,” you replied. You gripped his jaw, forcing him to look you in the eye.
“It’s not…Well, yes. I do get…aroused by you. But it’s your lipgloss. The smell…It makes my brain numb,” he admitted.
You removed your hand and bent over right in front of him to pick up the honey glaze scented gloss from the carpet, purposely nudging your butt against his knee as you reached down. You turned back around and waved it in his face tauntingly.
“This lipgloss? My favorite one?” You opened it and applied another layer. Setting it down on the bed, you placed your hands on either side of his legs and inched toward his face.
“The smell turns you on?” you asked, letting the scent waft around his personal space. He whimpered loudly.
“Yes,” he spat out, shoving down a heavy gulp. He could already feel himself getting hard again, and his eyes trailed down your torso, straight to the curve of your breasts, which were more visible due to you being bent over.
“You checkin’ me out?” you asked him mockingly.
His eyes snapped to your face as if he got caught doing something wrong. You sat back down next to him and stared at his bottom lip, which was being cradled between his teeth.
The way you were looking at him, like you were a predator hunting its prey, made Michael’s heart hammer so loudly against his chest that he swore you could hear it.
Then, a voice echoed in his head.
Start givin’ her the eyes…Take your hand, place it on her shoulder…look her up ‘n down…
He followed each direction as it played in his mind, his sudden confidence faltering your own in its track. Then, he gave you the sexiest smirk you’d ever seen.
…Give her a lil’ smirk. She’ll know.
“Do you wanna fuck me?” you asked him straightforwardly. He flinched a bit at how direct your words were.
“Yes,” he sighed. “B-but only if you wanna! I don’t…It has to be your choice.” What he really wanted to say was that he wanted you to use his body like he only existed for your pleasure.
“Then fuck me, Michael. Rip my clothes off and plow me into my sheets.” You slid your thumb across his bottom lip and tugged it down. He stared at you like a deer in headlights.
“You gonna touch me, or what?” you asked, cocking your head to the side in fake confusion. You knew your words were scrambling his brain, and you loved it.
“Y- sorry. Um.” He fumbled with his hands, not knowing where to touch you or place them. He felt like an idiot. You’ve engaged in sexual acts before, but he felt out of his league now, the looming state of his virginity making everything much more serious.
“Go get a condom from my dresser. Top drawer,” you ordered him. He obeyed and picked a small foil wrapper from the unopened Trojan box. He secretly thanked God at the sight, realizing you hadn’t recently been using them with anyone else, although he already knew that.
He held the foreign object in his hand and stood between your parted legs.
“C’mere,” you said before pulling him down by his neck and making out with him like you hadn’t been allowed to for a century.
He cautiously explored your body with his large hands, continuing certain gropes and squeezes when you gave him louder whines.
His body was now hovering yours, propped up by his forearms, and you could feel his heavy dick slap against your crotch through his pants as he went to kiss tenderly on your neck.
“I’m not wearing any underwear either. Wanna feel how wet I am for you?” you asked him lewdly.
“Please,” he begged, letting you take his hand and place it square on top of your clothed pussy.
He could feel you pounding beneath his palm, and he felt that familiar slimy substance connecting his hand to your core. He rubbed two of his fingers into you a bit, collecting some of your arousal. Detaching his mouth from your neck, he looked down at you with a dazed expression. With his free hand, he gently gripped your face, making you look at him.
Without a word, he removed his hand from your sex and sniffed his fingers greedily. He bucked his hips into yours, and shoved those fingers into his mouth with a loud groan.
You were in awe.
“I had no idea you were this filthy. Thought you were a good boy, but I guess you’re way dirtier than I thought,” you told him with surprise etched into every word. Your statement only made him needier. He shoved his fingers farther into his mouth and pulled them out, searching for your cunt again.
“Please, let me take these off. Wanna feel you,” he begged, a mixture of drool and your arousal collecting at the corner of his parted lips.
“Go ahead baby. Show me how much you want me.”
With a whimper, he crawled down your body and landed on his knees with effortless agility. He hooked his fingers into the top of your pajama shorts and froze.
“I-i’m a virgin,” he stated, voice barely above a whisper.
“Michael, I know. We’ve talked about this plenty of times,” you responded patiently. You knew he was nervous, but you also knew he wanted this.
“I know, it’s just that…I’m not gonna know how to do everything. I don’t wanna embarrass myself,” he replied meekly.
“Baby…I know you think I’m some sex god, but I’m still a virgin too.” You sat up and looked down at him, forcing him to meet your intense gaze. He looked stunned.
“It’s okay if you’re not. You don’t needa lie to me to make me feel bet-” You interrupted him by clamping your hand over his mouth.
“Michael, I’m not lying. When I told you before we ever did anything sexual that I had experience, that wasn’t a lie either. I’ve just never trusted anyone to go all the way. But I trust you and I want this with you. Don’t you wanna give it to me?” you asked him with a faux-sad pout.
“Of course! I wanna be your first…I want you to be mine. And my last. I wanna give my soul to you,” he rambled, inching your shorts down your thighs as he leaned in closer.
“I can’t believe you’re letting me..” he spoke quietly, mostly to himself, drifting off once he unclothed your lower body. He threw the damp shorts onto the floor and looked up at you with so much gratitude that it made your heart swell.
“Taste me,” you said, as you watched him lick his lips like he was starving.
He placed your thighs atop his shoulder and delved in, immediately grinding against nothing at the scent of your pussy.
“Mmm, th-that’s right. Just how I taught you before,” you spoke to him. He was circling your clit with his tongue with expert precision; just enough to feel like you were floating, but not enough to feel like you were grinding against a rock. Then he did something else you taught him, but with his own twist. He scratched up and down your thighs, the familiar sensation making you feel like music. But then, he slid his tongue down to your entrance and stuck it in, your arousal pooling around it in the act.
“F-fuck. Where’d you learn how to do that? Been seein’ someone else?” you inquired, only half joking. He pulled out and looked up at you with an earnest fire in his eyes.
“Never.” Then, he continued his actions, fucking his tongue into you as far as both of your anatomies would allow.
You pushed his head into you, grinding down with need. His afro acted as a protection against your brutal shove. He slid his tongue back out and worked your clit again, feeling confidence settle into his demeanor. So much confidence, he took two fingers, collected your arousal into them, and slid them into you. You cursed loudly.
“O-oh my god…F-Yeah! Curl them like that,” you mewled, your brain not knowing how to compute your pleasure into words. You’d only felt your own fingers inside there, once or twice, and you didn’t enjoy it. Your fingers couldn’t reach as far as his currently were, though.
You fell back against the bed as you felt your orgasm sprinting toward you faster than you anticipated, gripping onto your sheets and locking your ankles around Michael’s neck in an attempt to hold on.
“M-mikey, ah. Stop. Stop, stop, stop,” you breathed out to him, feeling the knot in your stomach almost unravel. He immediately withdrew his mouth and fingers, you arousal leaving a string of connection to his chin as he did so.
“Did it start to hurt? Sorry, I just thought you were gonna have an or-”
“I was gonna have an orgasm. I just don’t want to yet. I wanna suck that pretty dick of yours first. You’re gonna let me, right?” you asked him, not really leaving space to take no for an answer.
Michael never let you suck him off, to your own disappointment. He’s eaten you out so many times that you’d run out of positions for it, he’s let you grind against his dick with clothes, he’s even let you jerk him off, but he’s never let you get on your knees and put your mouth on it. His exact words were that it was ‘degrading and useless.’ He didn’t wanna hurt you. But you wanted to see him let go. You wanted the proof of your lewd acts with him physically etched into bruises to the back of your throat.
“Baby, I can’t let you do th-” You clamped your hand against his mouth once more.
“You’re gonna let me suck you off. Right?” you asked, slowly moving your hand away from his mouth.
“Ok-kay,” he responded with resignation in his voice.
He stood up and you slid his bottoms off, licking your lips at the sight of him. He was holding out on you because god was it pretty. And big. You thought he was just being a modest gentlemen when he told you he didn’t want to hurt you, but it was more than just that. He was really long, and he knew it.
“So you knew how big your dick was huh? That’s why you never let me do this. Betchu imagine me sucking that pretty thing off all the time.” You reached for it greedily and spit onto his tip, watching it slide down the base slowly.
“Stop- d-don’t talk about it like that..” he said weakly.
“Oh but you like it, though. I could practically feel you getting harder, baby. No need to be shy about it,” you egged him on. Before he could protest any longer, you wrapped your hand around his base and began tugging upward. You reached for your lipgloss with your free hand and applied a thick layer to your swollen lips. You blew a taunting kiss at him. He was visibly holding back his moans, much to your disapproval.
“Nuh-uh, let me hear those pretty moans. Sing for me, Michael,” you directed. He obeyed, and not even on purpose. The way you were touching and talking to him made him forget who he was.
“Feels s- you feel so good. I love you..” he blabbered.
“I love you too, baby.” You leaned forward and gave his shaft an open-mouthed kiss, maintaing eye contact with him. His whole body went rigid in shock as he saw the sticky mark your lip product left in its wake.
“Oh, god,” he groaned, jerking his hips up into your hand. You started twisting it whenever you got closer to his tip.
Without warning, you took it into your mouth, eyes focused on his, and sunk down on it. His eyes rolled back and his hands flew to the back of your head, holding it for composure. You began slowly moving up and down, flattening your tongue and sucking him like he was the best popsicle you’d ever tasted.
“Pl-ease, I don’t wanna cum yet. Plea-, please, please,” he begged on and on, turning please into a chant.
You hummed around his length, ignoring him, and continued to work. Tears stinged at your eyes, and drool dribbled out of your mouth. The sinful sight of you made him do something he swore he wouldn’t do. He rocked into your mouth roughly, just once, but it was enough to make you falter and gag against him. You moaned lustfully and your eyes lolled to the back of their sockets. He removed his hands from your head and scooted back from your mouth with a pop.
“‘M so sorry! I should’ve contained myself better. I know better. Did it hurt? If course it hurt, you’re crying and you gagged. Oh, God I’m so sorry prett-” You gripped onto his dick harshly, cutting him off.
“Michael, I want you to do that. I love it. Fuck my mouth, angel face. I can take it,” you reassured him with a devilish grin.
“N-no, I shouldn’t’ve let you touch me like that. You’re too precious…I can’t hurt you agai-”
“Michael. For the love of God, shut the hell up. I want you to hurt me and bruise me and make me cry. Is that not okay? Am I too dirty for you?” you asked him, feigning hurt. You secretly enjoyed tricking him into getting what you wanted because he somehow always gave it to you, and this time was gonna be no different.
“Not at all! You could never be too dirty for me…You’re perfect. I just don’t wanna degrade you like that. But since it’s what you want, okay. I’ll give you anythin’ you want.” Bingo.
“M’kay, now you gonna fuck my throat like a good boy, right?” you asked him with puppy dog eyes, tears still sitting in your waterline.
“Y-yes,” he responded hesitantly.
“Yes, what?” you asked him, enjoying working him up like this.
“Yes, angel. I-i’m gonna fuck your face…like a good…boy?” he responded, sounding more like he was trying to convince himself than he was you.
You gave him a soft hmm and pulled him back towards you, spitting a glob into your hand once more. You jerked him slowly 4 times and then looked him in his face.
“Don’t worry about me, ‘kay? If I want you to stop, I’ll make you stop. But, I trust you,” you said earnestly. “C’mon, stand up and give it to me, baby.”
Then, you opened your mouth, sticking your tongue out in anticipation. He hesitantly stood up, jerked himself twice, and then pushed into your mouth. Holding the back of your head gently, but firmly, with both of his hands, he set an inexperienced pace with his thrusts. You hollowed your cheeks and sucked harshly whenever he would drag his hips back, causing his legs to shake.
“Th-this is so, AH, wrong. You shouldn’t look this pretty like this. With my…thing in your mouth.”
You scrunched your brows into a pout and moaned loudly, forcing him to unconsciously fuck your mouth harder.
“B-baby you can’t do that, ‘m gonna finish if you do.” You continued moaning and sucking loudly, noticing his breaths shorten as his climax neared.
“God, you’re so pretty d-down there. Ngh- wait-” You forced yourself away from his crotch and crawled to the center of your bed, positioning yourself on all fours. You turned around and coaxed him over to you with a teasing finger.
“Baby, I need you. See how wet I am?” You arched your back and swayed your hips side to side, letting the light catch your arousal. “I need you to make me feel better. It’s aching,” you pouted. His feet were moving before his conscious mind could register your words, and he joined you in bed. He picked up the condom he mindlessly dropped earlier and unwrapped it.
“I-i’ll make you feel better,” her says as he pulled the rubber from its foil packet.
You turned around and took the contraceptive from him.
“Let me put it on you, daddy,” you smirked as you said the nickname.
“Don’t call me th-that,” he pouted.
You placed it on his tip with unnecessary friction and rolled it down his shaft, raising your eyebrows and smirking at the pathetic boy in front of you.
“Mmm, but you like it when I tease you with it,” you told him.
“Okay.” He gulped audibly and leaned down to press a hot kiss to your lips. “I love you.”
“I love you too, Michael. Now fuck me like you need it,” you said as you went back to your position on all fours. You were almost scared that he’d be too big, or that you’d need lube that you didn’t have, but as soon as he pushed his tip in, your pussy sucked him in. It was an unfamiliar feeling, being stretched like this, but your body didn’t register too much pain. You were drenched.
“Oh god, oh god, oh god,” he called out as your sex squelched around him, forcing him in deeper. You moaned out as he stretched and filled you. As soon as he bottomed out, he laid on top of your back, already feeling overwhelmed.
“M-michael! Oh my god, ‘m so wet. Needed your dick inside me so bad, fuck,” you inched forward and slammed back against his length forcefully, arching your back in the process. He sat up immediately and gripped onto your hips.
“The way you talk…” he trailed off as he started thrusting into you slowly.
“You like m-my dirty mouth, baby? Want me to talk to you through it, pretty boy?” you asked him, feeling his tip hit your g-spot with ease.
“Yes, please,” he whined, speeding up slightly in anticipation.
“F-fuck me harder, baby. Feels so good.” You pushed your head into your mattress, arching your back up higher, allowing yourself to take him deeper. He followed your instructions and snapped his hips into you harshly once, gauging your body’s response to the action. You pushed your ass further into his crotch, and he took that as silent permission.
“Mikeyyy. You’re so bad, taking my virginity in my bedroom like this. Mmm-fuck,” you whined, your vision going blurry with tears of pleasure.
“Y-yes, so bad. ‘M so bad,” he repeated, slamming into you faster. Your bed was creaking with his thrusts. He could already feel himself losing it again.
“Mmm, mmm, Mikey p-push my head into the mattress baby. Be rough.”
He obeyed immediately, leaning over and pressing his palm to the side of your head. He took one look at your face and felt his orgasm creeping up. Your mouth was wide open and there was a huge wet spot where your mouth leaked drool onto your sheets.
“You’re so pretty, baby. You look so good like this,” he complimented.
“With you plowin’ me into m-my own sheets? Thank you, baby boy.”
Your tongue licked at his thumb that was near your lips, and you sucked it into your mouth.
“OH! I’m g-onn…I’m cumming. Shit, I’m cumming!” he cried out as his hips stuttered. He buried himself into you deeply and filled the condom with his seed. He collapsed his torso onto your arched back and you bit his thumb. He clutched it after you spat it out of your mouth.
“I didn’t say to stop, did I? I thought you were a gentleman. Make me cum,” you demanded.
“Yes, baby. ‘M sorr-y…” he apologized in between whines of overstimulation.
You reached your hand down to your clit and started playing with it needily, overeager to cum on him. He pounded into you again, his dick half hard, as you started babbling into your bedsheets.
“Mikey, ‘m s-so close. Keep fuckin’ me like that, baby. You’re doin’ so well for me. You’re fillin’ me up so good.” The sound in the room was so unmistakable. The noise of creaky box springs, skin slapping and sticky arousal drowned out the hum of music leaving your record player.
He leaned down and hovered over your ear, whimpering into it. He sounded like an undiscovered instrument. The sound made your pussy squeeze against his shaft, signaling your orgasm.
“Y-yeah be louder. Love your filthy little whimpers, Michael. Gimme more,” you said with the last of your breath. He pounded harder and fully moaned into your ear, causing you to completely come undone.
You reached behind you and dug your nails into his sides as your legs shook and your pussy spasmed around his spent dick, already hardened again. You screamed his name like a prayer and Michael wished that was the only sound his ears would ever be subjected to again.
As you began going limp, Michael slid his arm underneath you, wrapping around your waist, and pulled out of you. He rolled into his side and pulled you on top of his chest, ignoring how hard he was again.
“I’m so glad it was you,” he said after he caught his breath.
“Hmm?” you asked him, looking up to the side of his face.
“My virginity. I’m glad you took it. It feels like you were exactly who I was waitin’ for whenever I would tell my brothers I was waitin’ on the right girl. No, you’re even better,” he said bashfully.
“Well, I’m glad you took mine too. You were absolutely perfect. I’m so glad we get to share this memory with each other. We fit so well together, don’tcha think? Like two halves of a puzzle,” you mused with a faint smile.
“I’d say so,” he said with a gulp loaded with a double meaning.
“Whatcha mean by that, baby?” you questioned him.
“Just…It’s like your body was swallowin’ me whole. It was incredible.” He bit his lips as he looked you in your eyes. You felt a pulsing at your abdomen, finally noticing how hard he was.
“Ohhh, my baby’s ready for round two? You have stamina…Good ta know,” you teased him with a giggle.
“‘M sorry, you just look ‘n sound so pretty when you’re tellin’ me what to do…”
“It’s okay, baby. Here. Let’s go take a quick shower, yeah? Then we can sixty-nine,” you said as you sat up on your knees. You gave him a wink. He gulped both audibly and visibly.
“Oh, yes please. I’d love that,” he responded with unconcealed enthusiasm. You pulled him behind you and led him toward the restroom, the excitement of round two noticeable in your light steps. You discarded your shirt and pulled Michael’s over his head for him.
“Take off that condom, baby. I’m gonna wash you up.”
He threw the soiled condom into your tiny tin trash can, and trailed after you like a puppy.
You turned on your shower and faced him, your tits on full display to him now. He swallowed loudly and gave a kiss to each of your nipples, surprising you in the act.
“I love you,” he whispered, and then leaned in to give you an intense kiss. His tongue slotted between your lips before you pulled away.
“Uh-uh. Don’t start something you can’t finish in here, needy boy. I’ll make it worth the wait.”
You stepped into the shower, him immediately after you, and the two of you let a comfortable silence settle in the air, washing yourselves and then each other’s backs.
With the two forgotten lip balm flavors lying lazily on the floor, the promise of your newly broadened sexual history etched into the empty house with a faint trace of a sweet scent. The scent of honey glaze.
INTRODUCTION. You were desperate for a job— desperate enough to call the uncle you haven’t spoken to in years. Somehow, he lands you a position on his farm. Easy work, right?
Wrong.
The moment you arrive, you realize the entire workforce consists of hybrids… all of whom stare at you like you’re their newest curiosity. And as the only human on the farm, you’re starting to wonder what exactly your uncle hired you for.
Just as you’re settling in, he calls out one last instruction:
“Be gentle when servicing my hybrids!”
You freeze as you watch him disappears. And now every hybrid on the farm looks way too excited.
Congratulations. You have no idea what this job is— but the hybrids definitely do.
( ! ) Multiple Male Characters x Reader , porn with little/no plot , short series (?) , crossover , NSFW , smut , potentially ooc characters , HYBRID/FARM AU , heat cycles
( ❤︎ ) Inspired by Mr. A's Farm
( ✎ ) ENGLISH IS NOT MY FIRST LANGUAGE I apologize in advance for any grammar mistakes I might make in the future fics. And also, please do not be afraid to comment if I misplace or misuse a tag/warning!
( # ) To see more about this series, look at #■■.Farm au !
INTRODUCING our beloved farm hybrids! They’re strong, hardworking, loyal, and—according to your uncle—very eager to meet you. So please, take good care of them, dear. They’ve worked so hard, and they deserve only the best (you). ꉂ(˵˃ ᗜ ˂˵)
COW HYBRIDS
I. PHAINON — Sub! Phainon , milking/lactating , breeding , Male! Reader ...etc.
II. DILUC — Sub! Diluc , overstimulation , milking/lactating , breeding , Fem! Reader ...etc.
III. MYDEIMOS — Sub! Mydei , overstimulation , rough , manhandling , heat cycles , bondage , use of milking machine , breeding , Male! Reader ...etc.
IV. NANAMI KENTO — Sub! Nanami , heat cycle , milking/lactating , use of milking machine , gn! Reader ...etc.
BULL HYBRIDS
I. TOJI FUSHIGURO — Dom Toji , breeding , knotting , rough sex , Male! Reader ...etc.
II. SUKUNA RYOMEN— Dom Sukuna , rough sex, sadistic sukuna , Fem! Reader , breeding ...etc.
III. BLADE — Switch Blade , bondage, rough sex , Gn! Reader ...etc.
I. WELT YANG — Service Sub! Welt , blowjob , age difference , cum eating , fingering , Male Reader ...etc.
II. CHOSO — Sub! Choso , roleplay , fingering , rough sex , gn! Reader ...etc.
III. HIROMI HIRUGUMA — Sub! Hiromi , sleepy sex , praising , riding , overstimulation , Fem! Reader ...etc.
CHICKEN HYBRIDS
I. DAN HENG — Sub! Dan heng , breeding , egg fertilization , overstimulation , begging , praising , Male! Reader ...etc.
II. ZHONGLI — Sub! Zhongli , overstimulation , fingering , begging , praising , pegging , Fem! Reader ...etc.
III. SUNDAY — Sub! Sunday , lingerie , dacryphilia , overstimulation , rough sex , Gn! Reader ...etc.
SPECIALS !
???...
( ✎ ) PLEASE NOTE that some of these tags might change and I might add more characters/hybrids if I feel like it! AND EXPECT slow updates and frequent editing in the fics! I’ll be posting each fic in no specific order.
Pairing: Aang x Top/Seme Male Reader x Sokka x Zuko
Summary: It's been years since you've seen any of the gaang, and the three male members have just been dying to get their hands on you.
Featuring: Oral/anal sex, straddling, biting, blood, hand job, cowgirl, no-prep, exhibitionism, infidelity, jealousy/possessiveness, blow job, creampie, prostate massaging, making out, temperature play, glowing body parts, minimal Sokka x Zuko at the end, and cum play.
WC: 4.7k
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The flicker that came from the flames presented in front of you did nothing short of create a beautiful scene. Their romantic glow caused an inconsistent cascade of light and shadow to mix in the cave you and the rest of the crew were in.
Of course, the master behind those flames was even more impressive himself. It had been a while since you had seen Zuko in person—hell, since you had seen any of the members from your teenage group. After everyone had decided to go their own way, there was never much time for you all to have a mutual meetup, as everybody was busy pursuing their own life.
Maybe it was a calling from a spirit that Aang needed all your guys' help on this mission. You did miss the dynamic and energy that came from being surrounded by the people closest to you; heaven knows you craved to be going back and forth with the guys or teasing the girls about something random.
In the midst of your zoning out, you suddenly heard an abrupt yet clear cough that came from your right.
"Hey, Y/n, you okay?" probed the same voice that previously cleared its throat, seeming to add a slight playfulness to its tone as if to not discomfort you. "You've been burning holes into Zuko’s torso for a good minute now."
Blinking your eyes a few times, you zoned back in to realize that your pupils had been laser focused on the fire lord's chest. Immediately ripping your eyes away from his body, you looked at the floor instead, deciphering whether it would be better to explain yourself to who you now realized was Sokka on your right or apologize to Zuko for the unintentional staring contest with his pecs.
You ultimately decided to do both while keeping your gaze on the ground, assuming that would save you the most humiliation from the expressions plastered on your comrades’ faces.
"My bad, I guess I was too in my head and didn't realize where I was looking," you mumbled timidly, like a kid who was forced to say sorry by their guardian. On your right you heard Toph let out a cheeky snicker while Katara started to tease.
"What's so enthralling about Zuko’s chest that had you zoning out over it, huh?" the waterbender taunted, wrapping a lazy arm around Aang’s shoulders. She put a portion of her weight on him while eyeing you, her grin stretching across her face at the realization she struck gold in something to mess with you about when you covered your face with shame, groaning in response.
"It was nothing. I'm telling you, I got busy thinking and didn't pay attention to where my eyes were," you stated disgruntledly, trying to be as casual about the conversation topic as possible in hopes that it would make it die out faster.
"Yeah, right," Toph mocked, now starting to join in on the ridiculing that should've ended 30 seconds ago, "I bet you were doing it on purpose and are just making the zoning out thing up to not get caught."
The metalbender got more comfortable in her sideways position on the floor before looking in your direction. For a blind woman, she sure did have a talent for knowing where to look to make eye contact.
"You can admit Zuko is pretty handsome," she kept on going, manipulating a small rock to head in the firebender’s direction and circle his upper body. You dragged your eyes over to look at him, wondering if he was hating the situation as much as you, only to be met with a rather flustered expression.
Although he wasn't saying anything or interacting with the discourse, Zuko was visibly red in the face. His shoulders were nearly steaming from how hot he was.
'He's probably just surprised at the direction the conversation went in,' you reasoned, not questioning his reaction much. 'It's nothing.'
Thinking about reactions, it had just dawned on you that neither of the other males in the room had said a single word since you apologized. Looking over at Sokka and Aang, you noticed that they seemed rather...tame with the whole theatrical.
They didn't seem overjoyed at the opportunity to dogpile on you about something silly like they usually would. Instead, their faces reflected that of hidden discontent.
Sokka was wearing a smile like usual, but the ends of his mouth shifted from time to time as if he were forcing himself to do it for appearances. Aang was barely reciprocating Katara’s physical affection, spiritlessly wrapping his arm around her waist while mundanely looking around the room.
Their reactions were inherently odd compared to how you last remembered them acting. However, again, it has been several years since everyone's gotten together like this. Perhaps they've just grown up and changed.
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Nighttime had officially fallen, and everyone had mutually decided it was time to rest. After a bit of rearranging had been done to better set up for sleeping, the crew had started to pull out their own bed linens and do whatever else was needed before lying down.
You had found yourself taking the space between Zuko and Sokka, dropping your blanket and slowly following it onto the ground as well. Sluggishly mumbling a goodnight to the rest of the group, you closed your eyes and instantly began dwindling into a limbo between wakefulness and sleep, your exhaustion overtaking you.
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Gradually evening out your breathing, you tried focusing on the black behind your eyelids and disconnecting from the rest of your surroundings. In the process of doing so, though, you heard a shuffling coming from in front of you.
‘Someone's just probably changing positions,’ you thought to yourself. ‘It's not like sleeping on a cave floor is the most ideal resting location.’
Just when you were about to return to your previous activity of zoning into nothingness, you heard something again, but this time it was coming near you. Someone was up, but that shouldn't bother you. There isn't any danger from anyone in the team. You're safe, and as far as you know nobody from the outside is coming in.
Still, you opened your eyes just to peek at who exactly it was and what they were doing at this hour of the night. You did not expect, however, to be met with Zuko hovering over you, his stature unwavering even as he came to realize you were, in fact, awake.
"Uhm, hey there, Zuko," you started, a slight concern present in your voice by the odd interaction. "Everything alright?" The buffer man did nothing but gaze down at you for a few more seconds.
It was when you were about to go in again with another question that he finally acted, kneeling down to meet you at face level and inching towards yours. Somewhat appalled by the action, you attempted to lean back and put some space between the two of you, but just as you were starting to, another hand made contact with your neck, halting your movement.
Slightly jumping at the unexpected intervention, you turned around to be met with Sokka already looking back at you, his loosened hair cascading over the front of his face, giving him a rather alluring appearance.
"Why are you up?" Zuko grilled in a low voice, though it came out more like a statement with how harsh his voice sounded. While asking, he leaned forward again, but this time his body language came off more territorial than usual. Your knees bumped together as he took a hold of your forearm, seeming as if ready to drag you away from the other man.
"The same reason you are," Sokka bit back, pulling out a smile as he gave Zuko an all-knowing look. You now wore a perplexed expression, completely unaware of whatever hidden message was being spelled out behind the pair’s short sentences to one another. What exactly was Zuko here to do?
You didn't have to wait much longer for that question to be answered, though, as Sokka pulled his arm back—your hair that was held by that same hand went with it. He forced the back of your head onto his collarbone, instantly diving into an open-mouth kiss. The tactician’s tongue played inside your mouth, making room for itself without prior notice.
Your eyes widened at the intrusion, too surprised to take any immediate action. Too caught up in the obscurity of the moment to fight back or do anything but make an alarmed noise.
"You—" Zuko spat out, catching himself before going off the handle over what he was seeing in front of him. This wasn't how it was supposed to go. Everyone should've been asleep, and the two of you should be kissing. Yet, now that the situation has been changed, there's nothing he can do except modify his plan.
The flame king clenched his teeth, taking a breath before crawling towards you. Just because Sokka landed the first move didn't mean it was over for him. He slowly brought his hands to rest on your thighs, using them as leverage to put his weight as he neared your necks. The firebender began to leave soft kisses from your collarbone to your neck, finding home on one of your scent glands and beginning to suck. If Sokka got the first kiss, he was going to be the first to leave a mark on you.
You groaned into Sokka’s mouth at the sensation on your neck, subconsciously wrapping a hand around Zuko’s waist to keep him there. The man who was responsible for tonguing you seemed to take notice of this, a new rage filling him at the reciprocation in touch. How come Zuko got it and not him? Why were you even looking at his chest earlier? Did everything have to always be about him?
Deep in his thoughts, Sokka ripped his lips away from yours and dug into your neck instead. However, he wasn't as sweet with his markings as the fire lord. The inventor locked his canines into the skin in between your shoulder and neck, biting down without a second thought. An uncomfortable grunt came from your throat. Moving your irises down to look at the skin after feeling a trickling wet sensation on it, only to be met with your own blood flowing down and seeping into your clothes.
"W-what did you do?" you asked, a visible quiver in your voice at the fact that you already knew the answer. Sokka dragged his eyes back to your own, a small grin of satisfaction on his face. Lowering his head, he licked the open wound, not breaking eye contact with you as he lapped up the spilling red liquid. That seemed to have gotten your attention away from the other male.
While in a dazed state and still looking at the clear bite mark on your trapezius, you heard another shuffle come from across the cave. That's when reality hit you again: there were several other people in the lair that could wake up at any given moment and see the scenario unfolding.
Although you told yourself that scared you, and your stomach filled with anxiety at the thought, you somehow felt an additional mix of arousal at the idea too. That small drop of it must've been enough to cause your body to react, as you felt yourself growing.
Zuko seemed to notice it too, looking down to be met with a clear bulge sticking forward in your pants. Continuing to gaze at it, he moved one hand away from your thigh and cupped your clothed penis. A ragged breath tore through your lips at the feeling. This caused the fire lord to snap his head back up, looking at your pleased expression and uneven breathing that was mildly hitting his face.
A blush crept up his cheeks as he swallowed down the saliva that had unknowingly been building up in his mouth.
"Don't worry, I'll take care of it," he whispered, letting himself catch a small peck from your unguarded lips before lowering his head to be between your legs. Though the contact of lips merely lasted for a second, you could feel just how high his body temperature was. Had he not been the leader of the Fire Nation, you would have become concerned at just how hot he was.
You got distracted from his steamy kiss, however, when you heard the shuffling from before again, but this time it seemed more consistent. Hearing a groan, you turned your head to be met with Aang slowly waking up. Your heart started beating even harder, a mix of feelings seeping into your skin.
The moment you were experiencing had happened so fast that you hadn't even thought to yourself what you would do if another member woke up. You hadn't exactly wanted this, so should you ask for help? Yet again, you weren't exactly fully opposed either.
Not much time to think was given, though, before the airbender rubbed any sleepiness he had left over from his eyes and scanned the view in front of him. After shifting his now wide eyes back and forth and analyzing what was going on, his pupils ultimately landed on you. Staring back at him, you said nothing, but your expression was an amalgamation of panic, anxiety, and arousal.
A beat passed without anyone saying anything, but eventually the avatar slowly rose from his bed, walking more casually than you would've expected towards the scene. Squatting down in front of you, he cupped your face and leaned into a kiss. His kiss was less intense and aggressive than Sokka’s, but just as hungry. He let himself moan into the kiss, seemingly enjoying the small yet heated act of intimacy.
"Not gonna say hello or anything before crashing the party?" probed Sokka through heavy breaths. One of his hands was down his pants and the other up his shirt, twitching his right nipple. He had become so spellbound by the bite mark he left on you that he'd been lapping and sucking on it for minutes, getting off at just how dark and noticeable he could make that singular mark of his on your skin.
Aang spared him a glance before returning his attention back to you, not completely in the mood for talking.
"It's not like there's much to say. And anyways, I obviously showed up late, so I have some catching up to do." He simply stated, closing his eyes to continue the kiss while slowly reaching to hold one of your hands.
By this point you had stopped including rationality or morals into the mix. You were so drawn in by the kiss that it hadn't even hit you that out of all three men, Aang was very much taken. The man who was necking you like he needed you in order to breathe was in a relationship with a woman who was less than 20 feet away from you.
The thought itself punched your gut with guilt, but with the way he was kissing you the negative feeling slowly transitioned into one of excitement. You eagerly kissed back, letting the airbender intertwine your guys' hands together as you made out. It wasn't your responsibility anyway to deal with the way people went about their relationships.
A sharp inhale was forced into your lungs as you felt a warm sensation overtake your cock. Slightly opening your eyes, you lowered your vision to be met with Zuko and his mouth wrapped around your shaft. You could see the tip of it poke out through his cheek as he made his best attempt at taking you all in.
Utilizing your free hand, you moved it over to be on top of his head, caressing and petting his hair in a way of showing praise for his actions. The lord peered back up at you, his half-lidded eyes making their best attempt to stay on you as he swallowed, making more space in his throat for your dick to pierce through.
"Lean back for me, baby," heaved out the strategist behind you, freeing the hand latched to his nipple and making a feeble attempt at pushing your shoulder down to put you on your back. You obliged, momentarily removing your hand from Zuko’s head—who seemed rather saddened by the missing physical contact—to balance yourself as you lay on your back, stretching your legs out to give the one between them better access.
Aang followed you down the whole way, continuing to smooch you like a lovesick puppy. It really started to make you wonder just how devoted he was to Katara with how feverishly he was about a simple kiss.
When he leaned back to catch his breath, Sokka took that as an opportunity to use your mouth for himself. Putting a hand on your chest, he used his other to peel off any clothing item that was on his lower body. Once they were discarded, he crawled closer to you, putting a leg on either side of your neck and straddling your face.
Without even needing to speak, you knew what he wanted to do and instantly cooperated, moving one hand to get a firm hold on his thighs as you helped lower him onto your face. Now that your mouth was taken, the avatar resorted to kissing your free hand instead, slowly moving it over to his lips. The wet sensation of his tongue rolling around your middle and index fingers was felt directly as he sucked on them while palming himself through his pants.
You laid your tongue flat under Sokka’s ass, licking a long line from his balls to his brown hole. This seemed to appease him, evident by the strained exhale that left his lips. Deciding to stop teasing, you went for the real motive. Pointing your tongue, you wiggled it into his anus, letting a finger you had previously wet tease around the edges before ultimately sinking in too. The inventor arched his back at the intrusion, slapping a hand over his mouth to keep his voice down while you worked your way into his hole.
The change in pace seemed to have struck a nerve for the element bender more down south. Zuko retracted his lips away from your cock and impatiently started to part ways with his lower-body garments as well. Throwing them off to the side, he inched closer to your midbody, deciding to straddle your hips before he made a reach for your cock again.
By this point Aang had soaked your fingers in enough of his saliva that it dripped down the back of your hand and onto your wrist. He pulled back from it, a string still connecting to your middle finger before fully detaching.
Lowering his pants just enough to unsheathe his cock, he moved your hand over to position it in a way that your palm would immediately make contact with his base. As you felt around it, you wrapped your hand around his dick with a firm hold, going to toy with the tip and realizing it was already leaking pre-cum.
A groan left your mouth and reverberated into Sokka’s tight walls as you felt Zuko’s warm ones take in your cock. The sensation mildly came off as painful first due to the lack of prep he had done for himself, too eager to have you inside him to consider the faults of his rushed plan.
However, his walls were soooo warm. He absolutely lived up to the fire lord name with how heated and comfortable the muscles taking your penis in were. A small groan of discomfort left his mouth at the initial penetrating sensation, but eventually he started to move, not seeming to let the tenuous pain get in his way.
“Do you feel it, Y/n?” he called out, looking down at the visible bump in his stomach from your cock. He felt himself twitch just from the sight below him. Moving a hand over to lay it over the protruding skin, he instinctively tightened around you even more. “We’re one now, too.”
He placed his hands on your torso while swaying his hips, moving them in a circular motion as he made his best attempt to properly ride you. Although the lack of preparation made for an uncomfortable start, the more he grinded down on your dick, the more tolerable it became.
Just when he was about to start speeding up, the side of your cock hit a bundle of nerves that made him gasp, suddenly freezing at the spike of pleasure he felt. When he tried moving again, he realized it was a lot harder to hit that same spot with the way he was positioned.
He grounded his feet on the floor, taking a squatting position before beginning to bounce up and down on your dick. The change had absolutely helped, as he was more frequently able to make contact with the spot.
"U-ughhh, Y/n, Y/n, Y-Y/n, this feels really good," whined the man, getting cock-drunk the more stretched out his walls became from your erect piece of flesh. His eyes started to unfocus as he didn't know where to look while feeling this almost unbearable amount of pleasure.
With Zuko now having a repeated pace he was fucking himself on your cock with, it caused you to also start reacting to the building feeling in your abdomen. Pulling your finger out of Sokka’s anus, you wrapped your hand around his thigh, squeezing it as a method to mildly ground yourself.
Focusing instead on protruding your tongue as deep as you could inside him, you used that hand to push him even closer to your face.
While moving your tongue near the middle of his walls, he suddenly clenched around your tongue, letting out a small mewl and clawing at your thorax. Seeing this as a good sign, you repeated your assault on that specific angle, locking your arm around his thigh when he tried rising from your tongue or squirming away.
With your opposite hand, you had started to fully jerk Aang off, utilizing the pre he had been leaking as a form to more smoothly glide your hand on his cock. He had been able to better handle the sensation of pleasure than the other two men, focusing on keeping his breathing evened and as quiet as possible.
Yet, even with not being as loud as them, his pleasure could be visibly seen by his arrows actively glowing. He had also put a portion of his weight on one arm, slowly starting to feel himself collapse the closer he got to reaching his high. Even with his energies being down, though, he made an attempt at reciprocating your actions by repeatedly pushing his hips forward, humping your hand in return for the service.
"T-thank you f-for this, Y/n," he huffed out, trying to put together words without letting out an audible moan. With the hand not supporting his weight, he laid it on your forearm, wanting to have more physical contact with you even aside from the one already taking place.
"I-I," Zuko whimpered, taking in a few breaths before trying his sentence again, "I'm going to cum soon." Had you not been tongue-deep in Sokka’s ass, you would’ve realized that the firebender was heating up like crazy.
Aside from his walls sucking you in so warmly, his back—leading up to his shoulders—and thighs were releasing steam at a rapid pace. It’s surprising he hasn’t caught on fire by this point.
Sokka agreed with his message by nodding his head, opening his mouth to speak, but only an airy moan came out.
"Me too," he added, biting his lip the closer he got to his climax. He’d started grinding his hips back into your face, alternating from shifting away at your abuse towards his prostate. “I-I don’t think I can last much longer.”
Out of the three men fondling you, the air nomad was the only one that stayed more so quiet, seeming too caught up on your hand pumping him to care about the other two’s words. Yet, he too felt himself building up and getting ready to explode. Anyone could tell, really, if they simply looked at him. He was lighting up like a glow stick the closer he got to reaching his peak.
Five more bounces later and Zuko had started shaking, his orgasm overtaking him as he clenched and unclenched around your cock. He wasn’t able to actually say anything, but small strained noises left his lips while he aimlessly looked up at the ceiling of the cave.
His seed spilled all over your stomach, dripping down to nearly reach your belly button. The flame king’s breathing continued to waver as he felt his limbs collapsing, the overexertion from riding you taking a toll now that the high was coming to an end.
But it didn't come without the seeping of your own semen starting to fill him too. He softly gasped as he let himself hunch over, using your cum-splattered stomach for leverage while you let your load out inside him.
Sokka came next, the moans from you reaching your own peak being the last thing he needed to be thrown over the edge and climax as well. His thighs tightened around your head as he bit his hand to cheaply cover his moans. He tipped his cum on your pecs, some of it still dripping from his tip, painting little dots in the middle of your collarbone.
As Sokka and Zuko both were catching their breaths, stooped over and holding onto a part of your core for leverage, they timidly made eye contact. They were practically breathing on each other from how close in proximity they were.
The non-bender decided to make the move first, and he weakly reached out for the flamebender’s face, pulling him into a tired and messy kiss. Although mildly surprised, the other didn't pull back and soon started to kiss back. The two silently rejoiced in the kiss, seemingly content with what they got out of tonight.
Aang finished last, an extra few pumps from you being enough to finally join the rest of you in the euphoria that came with experiencing sexual relief.
With his mouth agape but no sound coming out of it, his arrows maintained an unwavering glow throughout his whole orgasm, and his eyes fully went bright for a few seconds before calming down. His cum dribbled onto your closed hand, gradually slipping downwards and seeping into the web space between your thumb and index finger.
When the avatar finally came to—with wobbly breaths and tears poking at the corners of his eyes—and saw the mess of himself in your now-relaxed fist, he used that as a weak opportunity for the two of you to "unite" as well.
Shakily moving the hand previously grabbing yours, he slid it over to your knuckles, extending his fingers to intertwine his hand with yours once again, letting his still-warm semen mix into both of your palms. That was his personal compromise for not getting to have a part of you inside him.
Everyone seemed to have been satisfied for tonight.
──────────────────────────────────────────────
The next day you had mysteriously risen with a fever. Nothing deadly, but definitely not well enough for you to move much for the day.
"You were just fine yesterday," stated Katara, organizing her bag before getting started on whatever needed to be done that day. "I just don't understand where this could have come from in such little time."
"Maybe those guys chasing us had something to do with it," guessed Toph, shrugging her shoulders while putting her hair up. It's true, there hadn't been that big of a time window in between yesterday, when you were doing just fine, and today, when you're practically bedridden.
But there definitely had been a lot of action, and none of the men in the room seemed to want to offer any explanation for your sudden decrease in health.
"I'm not too sure what happened, but someone should stay near Y/n while the rest of us go out," the waterbender sighed, seeming both concerned and irritated at your condition.
"The three of us can stay behind, and you two look for resources today," chimed Sokka, getting closer to you and putting a hand to your forehead, checking your body temperature. "There's a decent chance someone might locate us here, and if that happens we won't be able to move as efficiently with one of us being weaker."
Katara wanted to interject, but Zuko and Aang cut her short by immediately expressing their agreement with Sokka’s idea. She eventually gave up on proposing any other agenda and went on her way with Toph, leaving you alone with the three other men.
Nothing to worry about anyways; they were obviously going to take good care of you.
Warnings: reader has a cock (otherwise no gender specified), (kinda) mean reader, top reader fucking bottom character, milking, breeding, orgasm denial, nipple play, sex toys, dacryphilia
One of your cows isn’t producing the minimum amount of milk required of him anymore… there seems to be some kind of problem?
Word count: ~2k
Running a farm sure is difficult. You had to wake up early everyday and get lots of physical work done. Not only that, you also had to care for all of your hybrid animals, each with their own individual needs and problems. You did hire employees to help lessen your workload, but there were still things only the owner can solve. Like today, having to deal with the mystery of one of your best cows producing results atypical of him.
“Ahhn— ahnnghh~ ♡ mmHghff, n-not so roughhhh..!! T-too much too g-guuud ♥︎♡” He mewled, nails digging into his own thighs as he whimpered around the stretch. His knees were raised up to his chest and your cock already bottomed out inside him, causing him to kick his legs futilely. It’s been so long since he last had someone else play around with him in the hay like this. Just the tip alone was enough to make his eyes roll back, his mind all fuzzy with pleasure.
Now with the entire thing inside, his couldn’t hold back his voice anymore, “ahh.. ah—ahNgh, ha,,uuhNnh~ b-big, so biiig ♡ so deep~ h-hurts~!!♡♥︎♡” At this rate, he could swear you were fucking his stomach, reaching places he only gets to experience with you. No matter what he moaned out, he couldn’t fool no one with that big, stupid grin plastered across his face. “You are kind of pissing me off.” For some reason, you felt like you were being played by him. “Spread yourself wider.”
He did as you said, using his hands to hold his legs apart, faint red lines appearing from where he gripped too hard. The hay below was digging into his back and getting into his hair, yet he didn’t care one bit. He couldn’t think of anything but you right now, not when his lovely, favourite farm owner was personally showering him with so much love! You don’t even know how long he’s been waiting to get manhandled by you again.
And fuck, he wasn’t just imagining it, he could totally see the belly bulge apparing and disappearing from his lower abdomen with each thrust. “mhhHffgg~ r-right there, ahhNn～ I-I’ll do anything, so pleassee!! Ha-harder, more, gimme all of it~♥︎” Someday, he was going to make you snap. “Don’t get cocky. I wouldn’t be here fucking your desperate self if you weren’t acting like some bitch in heat.” You snapped at him. That’s right, you were supposed to investigate his milking problem, but the upper half and not his lower, stupid half.
It’s not like you didn’t try solving it in a civil manner first. At first all you did was asking if anything happened or if he felt sick, while he was using the milking machine as per procedure. He replied no to each and every one of the questions, yet only produced a quarter of what he usually did, so it’s understandable that you got concerned.
“Maybe… it’s because of the machine?” That cow hybrid suggested upon your inquiry, gently pulling the pumps off of himself and holding his squishy tits with both hands. It was obvious that these got bigger over the course of the last few days. “Are you saying we should try hand milking?” You wondered, and he nodded quickly. You even felt like his eyes lit up for a split second. So you decided to give it a shot, since you did start off in the traditional way first and just recently adapted the more modern method.
You then quickly proceeded with the experiment and began tracing your fingers around his areola. After a few circles, you pinched his nubs softly with two fingers, trying out the flow. Nothing much happened apart from the low, breathy gasps coming from the male, which was why you began pulling and twisting a little. But once you started doing that, he just immediately moaned out, “aAaHnngg~♥︎♡♥︎ mMhnnh— uHhn,, huUhmff ♡”
After having his nipples sucked by the machine for so long, they were already super sensitive. Then to have his favourite caretaker the one he really really liked ♡ hand milking him again? Who could blame him for getting hard! By then he was already leaking precum onto the hay below. Your fingers were just so skilful, so much more intimate and warm than any device could ever hope to replicate. He just adored having your hands on him. “G-gentle… nghhHgg, l-love it~~ mhmm~! ♥︎”
He glanced down at the spot between his legs, a small puddle of precum already forming there. “I-I can’t help it…! It feels too good when you touch them.” Seeing that the wrong part of him was getting milked dry, you felt this realisation clicking inside, “did you suggest the hand milking just to get off? Don’t you know I have other things that needs to be done too?” The boy stayed quiet for a bit, before smiling sheepishly, noticing your hands were still on his nipples, “nnhhGahhh-ahnn!!♡♡ ha-haaa,, maybe…?”
Needless to say you were at your wits end with him, which is what got you into your current situation. With you holding his waist while slamming your hips against his, lewd squelching sounds echoing through the barn. “You know, this is how you get real cows to produce milk. By breeding them.” You whispered, his walls squeezing your length all snuggly. “Will it work for you too? Though I’m starting to think you were faking it all for attention.”
The way you stared down at him gave him chills. Oh how he loved it when you frowned at the sight of him, your eyes focused on him only. His words were slurred as he babbled with his tongue lolled out, “n-noo, no..!! M’wasnt, i r-really couldnt~ nGhhn ♥︎” look at that, he was thoroughly enjoying himself, wasn’t he?
“So, you are telling me you didn’t see this coming?” He didn’t answer, but his body revealed everything you needed to know. “Cheeky bastard.” You sighed and pulled out until only the tip remained inside, before slamming it all back in, making him curl his toes. “GuuUhhGnn~♡♥︎♡ ah-HnnGh—!!“ His moans turned into a whine when you abruptly grabbed him by the chin, “Since you’ve got so much time on your hands, fix that milking problem.”
“Yuu are sho… mhmm..!!! sho mean…!” He gasped out while you were still squeezing his cheeks. His hands finally released his now bruised thighs and landed on his nipples, his legs wrapping around your waist. The spot where he gripped them before has been decorated with a bunch of red nail-indents. “Ha-haaahh~ like this?” You did let go of him the moment he fulfilled your command.
Unsurprisingly, he kept smirking while he rolled his nips between his digits, licking his lips as his own sweet milk flowed down his wrists. The entire barn smelled of sex and warm, fresh milk. “hey… isn’t this suuuuch a-ahh~ waste?” He brought one of his soiled hand up to his mouth and sucked his own fingers clean, sticking his tongue out afterwards, “you want to make money with this, no? Heh… nghh ♡ So we shouldn’t waste it…!”
He was actually hoping for you to touch him yourself again, but to his dismay, you instead handed him the pumps of the milking machine, forcing him to reapply them to his own chest. “You think I’m that stupid? I won’t fall for the same trick twice.” You raised his hips up a little, getting a better angle before pounding into him even deeper, with surprisingly quicker thrusts. “AhNghhn ♥︎♡ d-don’t stop, ahhh so guuud, too good mghhnnff, m’love you, love this, right t-there ♡♡♡!”
You were hitting his sweet spots with the accuracy of someone who knows how to play his body like an instrument. The way you abused all his favourite places, rolling your hips with each rut into his sloppy hole…? It was simply heavenly ♥︎ his moans bounced off the thin wooden walls of the stable, echoing back at him, though he didn’t care at all. He was getting the privilege of being fucked by you, why would he be ashamed of that~?
Even the low humming of the milking machine was like music to his ears, the soft pressure of the suction pumps constantly stimulating his chest. His body was like on fire. Wherever you touched, heat would blossom beneath his skin. His vision was swimming, brain melting from the absolutely overwhelming ecstasy. It was to be expected that he’d sooner or later reach his limit.
“I’m close… ah~ I’m c-close, hnNhh, gunna cum, m’cummin’~♥︎♡!!— ah, n-nooo!” Right before he could shoot it all out, you wrapped your hand around his neglected cock and pressed your thumb into his slit firmly, denying him his much anticipated climax, “don’t you dare cum before I do. I’m not done breeding you yet.” “Wa— n-no…! L-lemme cum, I wanna— ah, ahNhhhgg, uHHhn!!!”
With that being said, poor thing was forced to endure the ruined orgasm and deal with the consequences of his actions. Shudders coursed through his spine as he cried out with each thrust, pleading so, so so so sweetly for his release. But you stayed firm the whole time, saying you were only going to let go of his now weeping cock once you’ve emptied your load inside him.
This time, you were going to fill him up until he learns how to behave. It didn’t stop him from trying his shot by begging even more submissively though. “P-please… cum already… b-breed me, fill me♥︎ hnNgh, like you said…!! I-I can’t anymore, m’wanna cum, ahh please~♡♡♥︎”
Gradually, you approached your own limit. He’s been getting really good at squeezing around you, shaking his own hips in a poor attempt to speed things up. You took a glance at the machine, then back at him. It seems your little ‘breeding therapy’ bared fruits, there was so much more milk coming out of his tits now. It was filling the tanks up all nicely. The same couldnt be said about his face though. With tears, sweat and snot running down his chin, his eyes glazed over and pleasure-ridden— even his pupils turned into little hearts♥︎!
One of his hands was just shy of grabbing your wrist, the other one clutching at anything within reach. His body was shaking heavily, his breath hitching audibly when you suddenly quickened your pace and mumbled, “fuck… I’m close.” Shortly after you also finally let go of his swollen dick. The shade was an angry red as it leaked precum everywhere, twitching with a mind of it’s own as he whimpered, “y-yes, yes…!, finally, ah- ahnGhh I-i’ve been wa- ah— waiting, gonna cummm ♥︎♡♥︎ f-fuck me harder, Nghh~ deeper, fill me up with your babies ♡♥︎♡”
Soon enough, both of you tipped over the edge. With you filling him to the brim, making his belly distend even more, and him making a mess everywhere. His head thrown back, eyes rolling until only the whites remained, thick ropes of cum coming out of his still jerking cock, splattering everywhere. “MhHmghhn~~ ♡♥︎” he bit down on his inner cheek, tasting the metallic tang of blood on his tongue as he heaved heavily. Chest rising and falling with each ragged breath.
You also took a moment to catch your breath, before pulling out of him with a quiet pop. The moment you left him empty and wanting, your cum began spilling from his entrance and dripped down his ass in an undeniably erotic display. His hole fluttered and clenched around nothing, small whines of residual bliss slipping past his lips from time to time. You couldnt help but chuckle at the debauched display, mocking him, “so that’s why you couldn’t produce any milk… it’s because you are such a slut that you need a dick to perform.”
After fixing yourself up until you were presentable again, you stuffed a plug vibrator inside him, to keep your seed trapped inside him. Then you turned it on to the max level alongside the pumping machine, since his breasts were carrying the milk from multiple weeks. This earned you a meek sob from the cow hybrid, but he was way too tired to even argue! All he could do was lay still while letting himself be milked like a good, obedient cow ♡
He still had so much more left until dry anyway, so it wouldn’t be a problem to set the timer to a few hours, no?
summary. sukuna once collected a great many things, but none have ever been so important as the fox spirit that captivated him. so consumed by his love, he offered it a deal: live only for him, and sorcerers will never touch its beloved forest again. something twisted along the way.
wc. 15.3k (THICK FIC FOR A THICK MAN YKWIM)
tags. smut | top reader, bottom sukuna, husbands!reader/kuna, slightly tsundere kuna (hes soo possessive). true form sukuna!!! curse/fox spirit!reader, reader is of a similar height (~8ft or whatever sukuna is idk). smut takes place in the heian era, the rest is modern day; lore part includes kenjaku + his squad of curses. reader calls sukuna 'my lord', sukuna calls reader 'fox'. blood, sexy cannibalism (? sukuna receiving), praise + degradation, oral w his stomach mouth, come eating, brief hair-pulling, spit as lube, hickeys/biting, riding, missionary, edging (sukuna; kinda? hes just stubborn), multiple orgasms, creampie
notes. as requested, the reader character has "golden eyes" and "long hair". he's a kitsune/inari okami based character bc i starting writing this when white fox came to marvel rivals and i was like "yo i wanna turn into a big fox too"
[ requested (+2) ]
At the bottom of a lake in a national park sits a towering stone statue of an Asura – the three-faced, six-armed demigods who revelled in war and hungered insatiably for worldly pleasures. Two hands are clasped in prayer; four reach for the heavens. The forests are dense, the mountains tall, and the waters dark and cool.
Most scholars estimate the statue to be particularly ancient – something like one thousand and five hundred years, around the time Buddhism was introduced to Japan. Its size, however, begets questions: why so large for such a new religion? Who made it? Why at the bottom of a lake? Why this lake? How is it still almost perfectly preserved, with such little water damage or natural erosion?
It was a local oddity, a mystery of ancient times. Its purpose – to scare, to protect, to be worshipped – was debated. Kenjaku, however, knows better.
It is a door. An entrance to a long-forgotten tomb.
Now, draining an entire lake is a mammoth task. Luckily for him, whoever crafted the statue also made it a lock. It will open via a specific pulse of cursed energy, shaped sharp and terrible like a blade rather than a key. However, time has eroded the statue's memory of its proper shape – with a determined-enough battering ram, any door will open. Kenjaku is that ram.
It's magical, watching the lake drain into some strange contraption at the raised circular base at the bottom of the statue. It looks like a grate. Soon enough, the roar of the water subsides, and the dark hollow of the lake, punched deep in the earth, is like the gods' very own kitchen sink.
Kenjaku's eyes flicker to the dark dome above. The veil conceals everything for now, but discretion would be awfully difficult to keep if he finds out there's no way to restore the lake to proper, well, lake-hood. Sorcerers would come sniffing in an instant.
At the bottom of the lake, he enters the revealed stone doors, probably fifteen or twenty feet tall. They waited, newly open, for him once he'd bypassed the lock, grinding open slowly once he reached them.
His steps echo in the vast, dark cave system. The soft plink of water drips into clear pools somewhere in the distance. His breath clouds in front of him, the air cold and damp, as he descends stairs carved into the dark stone. The stairs go down and down, then up and up, the long winding passages broad enough to fit three cars side by side.
Torches line the walls, hammered into place with black iron that fans out in the shape of spider lilies. They crackle to life as he nears them, their red flames licking the centres.
Eventually, he comes across another set of open stone doors. Two black braziers sit on either side, throwing crimson light on the walls and darkening the shadows. He lifts a hand to one of the braziers as he passes, fascinated as the flames flicker harmlessly around his bare fingers. The fire feels only as hot as the steam over a boiling pot of pasta.
None of this is for him specifically. There is no kindling in the braziers, no oil in the torches – this is a falling line of dominoes, with stored cursed energy instructed to follow a set of actions the moment the lake drained. It is unique. It is ancient. It is... ingenious.
Beyond the second set of doors, the cave system opens up into a vast, gaping cavern. Through a gap in the ceiling, pale moonlight cuts diagonally through the darkness, a cone of light falling upon a rocky formation in the centre of the cavern. A cleared path curves up to a point, and mirroring its curve above is a massive stalactite. Perhaps the points of each had touched, once, into a single form, but no longer. Water drips from the tip into a blooming patch of translucent blue flowers that stretches around the base of the rock all the way to his feet, so pale they seem to glow in the moonlight.
He glances down near the doors. At the edge of the field of flowers is a knee-height collection of drawings etched in stone and painted with flaked paint. He bobs down, brushing his fingers over the stone.
The linework is sloppy, unsteady. The paint trails outside of the lines. Humanoid figures dance around a spider-lily brazier – sit peacefully around a roasted boar – stand knee-deep in a river catching fish. His fingers trail over the last scene. Two figures are in the water, one tall and one small, but there's a third on the banks, watching under a tree. It has four arms. The face has been erased with time.
He stands again. He walks up the path, flowers sprawling on either side, and finds a tall, still figure slumped gently at the top, like a throne.
Ancient silks pool around its wrists and feet, trailing through the flowers. Any colour it once had has since faded, the cloth now bone-white. It still, however, retains its shimmery lustre, with a sheen like crushed pearls.
Kenjaku steps closer, brushing his bangs over his ear as he reaches into his pocket and extracts his phone, glancing at a picture of an ancient painted scroll from his private library. He lifts his phone up to the figure, glancing between them, and hums.
"All these years, and you haven't changed one bit."
A thousand years have passed and your skin is still supple, smooth, though ashen with death. No blood runs through you now. Your hands rest open in your lap, cupped loosely, as if awaiting offerings. Your hair is romantically long, tucked behind your ear and over your shoulder, and despite how soft they look, your lips lack colour.
Even standing at the end of your robes, more than a metre away from the bottom of your moonlit throne, Kenjaku still has to look up slightly – you are tall, definitely beating his current body, six-foot-something as it is. No, you are larger than that. God-tall. Easily worshipped, he thinks – easily feared.
He steps closer, carefully manoeuvring around the white silk pooling around his shoes. In your hands is an intricate golden brooch, inlaid with four almond-shaped rubies that haven't dulled with time. It rests delicately in your palms, and your head is tilted towards it – perhaps it was the last thing you ever saw. Careful not to disturb the rest of you, he reaches for it.
Your hand shoots forward and wraps around the entirety of his forearm, dragging him in. Your grip is bruising, strong enough to shatter stone.
Silhouetted by darkness, your eyes glow a ghostly silver, pupils completely milky-white. Your lips nearly touch his as you pull him ever so slightly closer, fingers twisting punishingly around his arm. Your breath is cold against his lips.
"A corpse..." you whisper, a raspy, rattling breath, "should be left well alone."
Kenjaku doesn't move. He doesn't try to. Even dead, your presence is electrifying, your touch like a live wire straight to the nerves. His lungs constrict, and his heart pounds in his chest with something more than wonder.
Even like this, you still manage to surprise him.
You tilt your head slightly, eyes reflecting with an eerie catlike glow in the shadows of your features. Slowly, your grip loosens, and you release his arm – gently, softly, as if you're giving it back to him. Mechanically, your gaze lowers to the brooch in your palm, and you lean back, cupping it once more. Your hand closes around the brooch; the crimson jewels glitter between your long fingers. You close your eyes, and stillness returns to the dark cavern.
Kenjaku grabs his wrist, rubbing it more out of habit than anything. His own touch is a balm from the icy burn of yours. He mutters, "So dramatic."
You don't move.
"My way would have been easier. Centralised. I have to go out of my way to bring you back – but you were always a rebellious one, weren't you?"
He reaches for the brooch again. You grab his wrist – again. Just like before, there is no life in it. Nothing real. This is all just automatic reflex, instinct preserved in limbo, as unconscious and unthinking as the decay of meat and muscle – a natural, predetermined pattern of reactions to certain stimuli.
"What a bother," he murmurs, twisting his arm out of the corpse's grasp. "But if I were you, I suppose I'd want to keep a face like this, too."
He leans down, inspecting your lowered face. You have intimidatingly beautiful features – noble, strong. Uniquely elegant.
He reaches up, his face tilted towards yours. His fingers brush your ice-cold cheek – his palm is tiny in comparison.
Part curse, part god. A once-simple soul entangled deeply, cosmically, with another's. A bond that transcends eras, lives, and perhaps the very realm of the earth.
You don't stir. Why, he wonders? Is it the brooch that acts as the catalyst? Is your corpse protecting it?
Kenjaku draws back, lifting his phone again and scanning his annotations printed on a PDF file of scrolls. The photos are clearly taken with a phone camera on a library table rather than being scanned in archive quality, but they’re serviceable.
There's a highlighted note on a poem with beautiful calligraphy, its author gone uncredited. It accompanies a landscape scene of the lake he's standing under, the inky shape of the hills and mountains almost identical to when he viewed it over a nearby cliff.
Lucent blooms settle
Beneath sleeping mountains' light—
Silk's argent embrace
He hums. Incredibly profound.
It's a winter poem. 'Sleeping mountains' – that's the seasonal word, the kigo. His thoughts dart between fragments of information as he taps his chin thoughtfully, beginning to pace languidly back and forth. If only you'd trusted him enough with the key yourself – he'd had to scrounge through countless charred villages and museum archives just to find these clues, a task that spanned centuries. You were very good at hiding things. Unfortunately for him, only one being in existence has ever held that key, and they were currently… indisposed.
Winter. Cold. The corpse is cold. 'Lucent blooms' – that definitely has to be referencing these strange flowers, some rare variety he's never seen anywhere else. 'Light'… Moon? The moon's out right now. A full moon, if that changes things. Or it could be the light bouncing off the white peaks of the surrounding mountains. 'Embrace'. Embrace what? Fancy talk for just enjoying the natural view?
He clicks his tongue with a sigh.
Silk, his mind supplies helpfully. His gaze swings back to the god-corpse resting before him and the snow-white silk, still defiantly gleaming despite the passing aeons. An idea sparks in his mind.
Slowly, he crouches, inspecting the flowers and plucks the largest one from the fresh soil. The white petals are slender, soft as velvet and luminous under the moonlight. He glances at his phone, rereading the poem two more times. He places the flower in the cup of your open palms.
He waits. He watches.
The corpse's fingers twitch.
They close stiffly around the flower, pulling it close. With a slow, steady inhale, the corpse's eyes flutter open.
No longer are they that milky death-white, lacking the natural pinkness at the corners of the eyes and in the veins of the sclera. The irises are now gold, molten gold, and as bright and brilliant as the dawn.
There is a figure in front of you: dark-clothed, blurry with countless years of your dreamless oblivion.
"Uraume…?" Your voice is a low, husky breath. You close your eyes, one hand lifting briefly towards your aching, throbbing temple. The gold brooch tips from your palm, landing soundlessly in your lap.
"Not quite."
You blink, brow slightly furrowed. Your vision clears. There is a man in front of you – a sorcerer, judging by the controlled silvery shimmer that threads itself through his very being. His face is unfamiliar. But his energy is…
You take in his serene expression, the knowing gaze that borders on condescension… and the stitches across the forehead.
"You are not Uraume," you murmur – barely. Your lip curls with distaste. He has to strain to hear over the ambient noise, the low hum of the earth and the whisper of wind through stone. Your voice comes low, a death rattle cold enough to chill bones. "Leave, brain. You are not welcome here."
"Such little gratitude to an old friend," he replies with a smile. "Would it kill you to call me by my name?"
"Which one have you stolen now? This body…" You tilt your head, surveying him. "It is a recent acquisition."
"Yes – Geto Suguru," he says rather joyfully, touching his stitched forehead in a caricature of shyness. "You may call me such, if you like."
"I will not." You lower your gaze, scooping up the brooch and closing your fingers over it. The metal is cool against your skin – your sense of touch is returning to you. You can feel the intricate patterns of the gold and the hard angles of the jewels under your thumb. "Why do you wake me?"
"My plans are coming to fruition. I assumed you would want to be there for them."
You trace the white petals of the freshly-plucked flower in your palm. An offering – but given by the wrong hands. "If I had any interest in your 'plans', I would have accepted your proposal back then. So, before I snap every bone of your borrowed body and drink its marrow while you watch, I ask again: why do you wake me?"
He lifts his hands in surrender, but his smile sharpens. "Ryomen Sukuna has returned."
Your fingers stop drawing circles into the petals. Your breath catches. "What…?"
"Indeed. I'll give you a moment to check for yourself."
You can sense it. You feel him. It's faint, but something tugs at the base of your ribs, a sharp longing that has your eyes widening. He's unmistakable. You would recognise him anywhere – you would know him blind.
But if he has returned, why is it this brain stands before you, and not him? You promised you would wait for him. You would wake for him. To be awoken by this thing instead feels like a sickening betrayal. Your grip tightens on the flower, its petals crushed in your palm.
You… should kill him.
"Thinking of ending me?" His grin widens. "Unfortunately, Your Grace, I am the tip of the spear when it comes to restoring the King of Curses to his full strength. Removing me from the equation would obstruct his return to power."
"Would it?" You cup the brooch instead, letting the broken flower petals flutter to your feet. "You are such a confident little bug."
"Well-earned, I'd say." Kenjaku flutters a few fingers in the air casually as he speaks. "If it pleases you, I know a place where you can stay to recuperate while I gather the remaining number of Sukuna's fingers. I'm sure you'll be well enough by then to participate in my plans, should you change your mind."
"I have no desire to partake in your games. It is all posturing and strutting about – no substance." You glance up, leaning back. "Now leave before I peel every nerve out of that hideous brain of yours. You interrupted my beauty sleep."
He smiles back, infuriatingly composed. "As you wish. But I can't, in good faith, go without mentioning something. You might be interested to see that I have… this." He reaches into his robes and pulls out a wooden box completely wrapped in paper seals. Despite them, dark cursed energy radiates off of it in suffocating waves, thick enough to choke humans into a terrified, sobbing paralysis. It pulses like a heartbeat. He shakes it, and something rattles within.
Your amusement vanishes. You stiffen.
He watches your reaction keenly. "This is one of the two. Join me and I'll help you retrieve the other. Luckily for us, I just so happen to know exactly where it is."
Your eyes flash. "Are you threatening me?"
"It's more of a bargain, but I digress. Is the threat of a heart attack on a cosmic scale enough to entice you over, Your Grace?"
You gaze at him with an expression as readable as stone. Your gaze darkens. "You are a fool if you believe I'll ever make promises to a brain."
"A smart fool. I know you and Sukuna are impossibly attached to each other. How long will it take you to rewrite the rules of your 'hibernation' again? A year? Ten years? His current vessel is giving him grief, so it may take him a while to retain control long enough to find you. Help me gather his fingers and you'll have him back in a flash."
You say nothing.
"How long has it been?" you ask, finally, glancing around you. "How long has that bastard made me wait?"
"A thousand years, give or take."
Your grip tightens on the brooch. A long, heavy silence falls.
"Very well," you mutter, tracking him like prey as he steps away, inspecting the flowers and your silk robes as if you're some sort of museum exhibit. Your lips press together with disgust as he smiles and clasps his hands, a glint in his eyes that states he already knew your answer before you said a word. At least for now, you're weakened, so you'll oblige, but you promise yourself you'll enjoy spilling him across the stone one day. "Do what you must."
—
A child is running around your feet. It is small, with mismatched eyes and long blue-grey hair. You stare at it.
"This is not Uraume."
Kenjaku chuckles, watching from his seat by the table. He lifts a cup of steaming tea to his lips. "Uraume is busy searching for Sukuna's fingers. Why? Missing them?"
You cross your arms, tugging your billowing sleeves away from the grabby hands of the tiny... curse. Undeterred, it crawls under the hem of your trailing robes, folding them over its shoulders like a cape. You lift your gaze. "You said they were here."
"I said they were awake," he corrects. "If you care so much, why don't you send out your Bat-Signal, call them over?"
"My what?" you frown. "If you mean that I should signal my presence to them, I'm afraid you'll be disappointed. Only Sukuna created that sort of bond. I did not like the idea of being... tracked."
He hums, sipping his tea. "Always so independent. Uraume will be back soon, I wager. In the meantime, why don't you introduce yourself, Mahito?"
The child at your feet looks up and beams, brushing his messy bangs out of his eyes. The dark stitches across his skin stretch with his smile. "I'm Mahito!" he chirps. "I can touch souls!"
"That's... very nice," you say, tugging your robes to stop them from catching and pulling at his dark stitches. You glance between the pair, eyes sliding up to Kenjaku's forehead. "Is it another one of yours?"
Kenjaku lets out a barked laugh, placing his tea on the table. "No. He was born of human hatred. He's quite young – not even a year old, I believe."
"Oh. I suppose that's better." You observe the youngster for a moment as he plays with the charms hanging from your sash, particularly absorbed with a small jade fox.
"Excuse me?" He almost sounds offended. "Why is it better that he's not my child?"
You ignore him, turning to the little curse. "Mahito, do your stitches hold you together, as his do? Or are yours just to make you look even more adorable?"
He lights up. "Geto! You hear that? He thinks I'm adorable!" He turns back to you, grinning. "I don't know, mister! I don't think I'll fall apart without them, but I haven't been pulled apart yet."
"I see." You pat his head. "Let's keep it that way."
"Okay!" He grasps your kimono and follows you to the table, where a dozen old scrolls and stolen inventory files lie neatly organised. You pick up the nearest folder, finding inside a printed report of 'Sukuna's Finger: Left Index'. You trace the image of it, your gaze softening ever so slightly.
Mahito isn't tall enough to see what's in your hands, let alone over the edge of the table. He huffs in annoyance and shoots up in height, shaking out his newly lengthened limbs, and grabs your elbow, shoving himself beneath your arm. He is now comfortably chest-height with you.
"Oh, just looking at these again. Geto always looks at these. So, you two were, like, married, right?" he says, tilting his head straight up to look at you at an angle impossible for human necks. "Was he any good as a wife?"
"It was a covenant," you correct, turning the page. "And yes. He was very good."
"Wow," he giggles, grabbing a scroll and unrolling it flat across the table. "Then what was the covenant about? How'd you meet? Did he try to kill you?"
You glance down at your robes, white as moonlight. A small smile tugs at your lips. "That's a boring story, Mahito."
"I don't believe that for a second! I mean, I'm not doing anything important. Let me decide if it's boring or not," he says, immediately ditching the scroll he'd just opened to take up half the library table. "Tell me, tell me!"
"Are you sure? I might not be the best storyteller. My mind is still a little foggy with sleep."
"It's okay. I just wanna know how someone like Sukuna caught the attention of someone as pretty as you, mister." He stares up at you with wide, sparkling eyes.
"If you insist." You chuckle.
"I do!"
"Very well. Long ago, I lived in a forest," you begin, touching the photo of Sukuna's finger. Even Kenjaku shifts slightly, eyes downcast towards his research but his ear tilted towards you. "It was a great, ancient place, spanning across many mountains. It was my home, and I protected it well for many years – until one day, humans came stumbling through it, shouting and trampling and carrying torches. There were too many to fight off, coming from all directions. Dealing with one group left another unchecked. They set my home on fire; that fire raged for two weeks."
You grab a chair and settle down into it, and Mahito quickly takes a seat at your feet. "Hanami hates when humans do that," he says wisely, nodding.
"They do it often, those wretched things – no consideration for the innocent creatures caught in their paths. That day, they were looking for someone: someone who'd made his latest home in my forest, and who they called the King of Curses. I didn't think much of the title. I'd never heard of the man before, so I wondered why they cared so much about him. Curious, I sought him out. I don't know why the sorcerers struggled to find him – he was loud and brutish, every step like an earthquake, every blow shaking the heavens. Unfortunately, before I could confront the barbarian disrupting my peace, the sorcerers fighting him attacked me as well. Mahito, what colour do you think gods bleed?"
He cups his chin thoughtfully. "Mine's red, but most other curses are purple. Hm... You seem different. Maybe gold, like your eyes?"
You smile evenly. "Clever guess. After I slaughtered those sorcerers, I found this supposed 'king' standing back and watching me, letting me do all the hard work. It infuriated me. He barges into my home, destroys my quiet, and now he doesn't lift a single finger to drive off the enemies he brought to my door? He had twenty of them. Surely he could spare one. But he refused, so clearly, I had no choice but to chase him off like a feral dog to take his invaders with him. For three days and three nights, we fought until we reached a stalemate. He could not touch me in a way that mattered. I could not keep him down."
A sigh flutters past your lips as you rest your head on your palm, propping your elbow on the table. "Finally, he stopped. He called me mesmerising, said that I'd enchanted him with how I fought like it was a dance, but that he wouldn't leave and wouldn't help with the humans unless offered something in return. You who steal my moonlight for your silks! he accused me. I will kill every sorcerer who threatens this forest only if you dance for me alone, forever."
Mahito hangs onto your every word, leaning forward slightly. His round, mismatched eyes shine with fascination.
"And so, Ryomen Sukuna, the mighty and undefeated King of Curses, became my darling little guard dog. The end." You wave a hand, your white sleeve gleaming in the light, and laugh at Mahito's dumbfounded expression. "Why the look? Did you expect more?"
"You skipped the middle part!" he complains, crossing his arms. "That's the best part. I wanna hear how you responded to his bargain!"
You think of Sukuna's flushed face and parted lips, all four ruby eyes half-lidded and trained on you. You think of taking him then and there in the forest clearing, the grass and trees bleached bone-white from the heat of your clash, with his sturdy thighs bracketing yours as he gripped his weapons stabbed into the soil for balance.
"No," you hum, smiling. "No, dear, you don't."
—
Mahito quite likes you. Hanami approves of your paternal care of the forest you claimed as your own, and little Dagon is still too young to do much except get carried around by Mahito so they can listen to your stories together. These are facts that bother the volcanic cursed spirit, Jogo, a surprising amount.
"He lies as easily as breathing," Jogo says gruffly, his single Cyclopean eye narrowing in your direction as you spin tales out of Sukuna's triumphs over ten-thousand-strong armies. Mahito is small at the moment, legs crossed in the sand of Dagon's beachy domain – his eyes shine brighter when you briefly make reference to your own formidable strength. Sukuna is a fairytale, just a collection of words – you are tangible, real, and to his mind, more interesting for it.
Kenjaku smiles calmly. "Is that why you don't get along?"
"Cursed spirits should be authentic! Real! The fox hides his true feelings and plays games to manipulate things in his favour. That's cowardly," he grumbles. "Striking from the shadows is reserved for the weak."
"Ah, but you forget that he faced off against Sukuna in his prime and managed to walk away. He's anything but weak. Open, honourable duels just aren't his cup of tea." Glancing across the beach, he watches Mahito clamber into your lap, childlike interest bright on his face as he reaches up and touches the brooch pinned high on your lapel. You hide it with your hair most of the time, sweeping it forward over your shoulders. Kenjaku watches as you sit him across your knee and let him touch it, but you grasp it firmly so he can't steal it away. "Once Sukuna fully incarnates, don't mention such thoughts to him. He's very touchy when it comes to what's his, so if you know what's good for you, keep your mouth closed."
Jogo harrumphs. "Fine. Doesn't matter to me. Why'd you wake him up before Sukuna's incarnation, anyway? He hasn't done anything yet except make a fanboy out of Mahito."
"Oh, just think a little bit harder," Kenjaku cajoles. "We know Sukuna's vessel is trained by Gojo Satoru and they're both residing at the Tokyo jujutsu school, yes? If Sukuna's as possessive as I remember, knowing his fox has returned and is waiting for him will fuel his desire to incarnate as soon as possible. Right now, there are still a dozen fingers out there, so he isn't rushing to consume them. I want to change that."
His eye narrows. "You… want to send him to the school."
"Bingo," he replies cheerfully.
"That'll get him killed."
"Oh, please. Stop underestimating him. He's very good at his certain brand of violence. Besides..." he hums as he settles back in the chair, crossing his ankles and closing his eyes with a serene smile. "Don't you think it would be funny?"
—
Yuji trudges blearily towards the open training fields of the campus, rubbing his eyes. His uniform is crinkled, and his socks are probably two different colours. He can't remember. He's always been unnaturally hardy, but over the last two weeks, Sukuna has been exceptionally loud and restless inside his head, and every lapse in attention was enough to let him manifest a mouth or eye with disturbing ease. Nights were even worse, and Yuji worriedly relayed to his teacher how Sukuna was able to take control of his entire body just because he crashed so hard it felt like blacking out. He'd jerked himself awake with his hand on the doorknob, but that wasn't a risk he was willing to take every night.
Satoru had lost much of his flippant attitude at his confession. His smile faded for a beat too long before it returned, and he simply asked Yuji to meet up with him the next day to 'train'. Train what, exactly, he wasn't sure, but honestly, he'd trust the man if he told him to walk off a cliff blindfolded.
"You're a weak, pathetic little gnat and always will be. You think your 'training' will amount to anything? Give in. Give up."
If Yuji smacks the side of his head with any more force, he'll give himself a concussion. "You're straightforward today," he mutters. "Usually you like to try to manipulate me more."
"What is there to manipulate when you've got the brains of a brick?" Sukuna drawls. His voice echoes in his skull like a pounding bassline with none of the fun involved.
"You're a real jerk, man."
He chuckles then, deep and sinister. "Every time you consume a part of me, you lose more of yourself. Can you imagine that, of not knowing where I begin and you end?"
Something red flashes into Yuji's peripherals. He blinks, pausing on the edge of the training field along the path, right next to the dense forest that circles the campus.
A small red fox halts in the middle of the path in front of him, thick fluffy tail swaying low behind it. It blinks slowly, its yellow eyes fixated on him. Its red-orange fur is glossy, and its soft white throat is as pale as snow.
"Hey, buddy," Yuji coos, voice pitching higher subconsciously. "Aw. You're just the fluffiest, aren'tcha?"
The fox stares at him, small paws tapping the ground. It turns and patters further along the path for a few steps, then pauses and looks over its shoulder expectantly with uncannily clever eyes.
"Whoa," he mumbles, brows knitting slightly. "Is it just me, or does that fox look like it wants me to follow it?"
The response is instantaneous. "Do it, brat."
"Well, now I don't want to," he says stubbornly, crossing his arms. "Can't you literally read my thoughts? I was going to do it to kill time, since Gojo-sensei isn't here yet, but you saying that really messed me up."
"What the hell do you think I gain out of following a damn animal?"
"I dunno. What if it's a cursed spirit or something? What if you're trying to get me killed – again?"
"It is not. I can assure you, it is not." He sounds almost impatient. "But say it was. Look at the size of the thing. Kick it and you'd exorcise it. Now go. It's leaving."
Yuji groans, reluctantly jogging after the quick little fox. He supposes Sukuna's right, though – he's on campus, and he saw Principal Yaga walking through the halls just a few minutes earlier, so he at least has someone to run to if anything goes sideways.
Besides... something within him burns with curiosity. Not a vestigial remnant of Sukuna, either. Something uniquely his own.
With a half-second pause and a glance back, the fox veers left into the trees. It vanishes amongst the shrub almost immediately. Yuji scrambles to track it. "Ah, damn it…! Doesn't everybody say not to follow foxes in forests? The second things look fishy, I'm getting outta here."
For the first time in weeks, Sukuna is dead silent. Yuji ducks under a low-hanging branch, glancing behind him to see the light of the path quickly dimming with every step. The fox seems to be leading him in a straight line, which will be great for sprinting his way back to safety if he even so much as hears a twig snap.
The fox's pace quickens, white-tipped tail held high like a flag. Yuji steps over a nest of thick, gnarled roots, almost trips on a spiky bush, and looks up. He freezes.
There, in a small patch of sun behind a large evergreen tree, is a pure white fox the size of a large dog. Several smaller red foxes surround it, jumping about or resting in the patch of sunlight. What seems like a mother and her kits play slightly further away to give the yipping, wrestling babies some room. The white fox watches them with particular care.
"Whoa... Cute," Yuji whispers, dazed. He lifts his hands to his mouth, his eyes glistening. "So cute…"
At his words, the large white fox turns its head in his direction. Its eyes are not just yellow – they seem to glow with an unnatural flash that lingers even after it passes through the light into the shadows. It rises to all fours and steps slowly, predatorily, towards him.
Stepping out from behind the tree, it reveals nine long, gleaming white tails, held up high and proud.
The fox that led Yuji here scampers towards it, lowering its head in what seems like deference. The white fox glances at it once, and the red one stands and trots off to join another curled up in the roots of a tree.
The white fox approaches slowly, strong and sinewy. It blinks with eyes almost human, the pupils dilating as it scans his figure. The nine – nine! – tails puff up and give a little quiver, before calming down into a slower – though faster than earlier – side-to-side sway.
It comes even closer, near enough to pet if he lifted his hand. His fingers twitch. Its fur looks impossibly soft and white, like a cloud in animal form. It churrs quietly as it lifts its head towards his outstretched palm.
Wait, outstretched?
He snaps out of it with a sharp gasp. He turns swiftly on his heel and takes a single step forward.
"Leaving so soon?"
He freezes with a strange tugging in his soul – was that his? – that commands him to turn. Eyes wide, expression fixed in place, he slowly inches back around. His breath catches in his throat as his gaze travels up, up, up.
Standing before him is a beautiful man, taller than anything he's ever seen – taller than Nanamin, taller than Gojo-sensei, taller than Panda. He wears long robes that flow like a silver river, gleaming so brightly he looks like a fallen star, and a soft wind plays with his sleeves and hair. His expression is almost kind.
Almost.
"Goodness. Even a thousand years later, you still manage to drag me into the filth of your messes," you say, your voice a soothing wash of silk over river-smoothed stone. A pair of red foxes curls around your ankles, leaping over your trailing robes.
Yuji takes a step back.
"Well?" you ask, tilting your head. "Nothing to say, husband?"
Yuji squeaks, lifting his hands defensively. "Huh? What? No, you must be mistaken, I-I'm not – um—"
His jaw clicks shut as you step closer, extending a hand. How can you be more beautiful up close? You gently take his chin between your thumb and forefinger, tilting his face up. "He even looks like you, Sukuna. I have not seen you so young in a long, long time."
A crushing pressure presses down on his lungs, not unlike Gojo-sensei's when he lifts his blindfold. He wants to move. Needs to move. He's going to die if he stays still for even a second longer.
You lean down slightly, molten-gold eyes trained on his. Against his own will, his eyes flick down to the ruby-studded brooch peeking out from beneath your hair. Something dark and foreign rumbles against his very soul – like the purr of a large cat.
"Brat." Sukuna's deep voice cuts through his incoherent thoughts. "Let me take over."
What? he thinks, halfway to panic because a really, really pretty man is holding his face and isn't breaking eye contact. No! I'm not doing that! No way!
"You think you can fight him and win?" He scoffs. "That's a special-grade curse you're looking at, you know – slips past your defences like moonlight, a cruelty so beautiful you would thank him if he danced on your corpse. He made rivers run red with human blood for days."
WHAT? he thinks, fully panicking.
Oh, god. Oh, dear god. He wonders if he can summon his trusty teacher if he screams his name loud enough.
"You should come with me, child," you whisper with a smile, those golden eyes glinting. You kneel, moving closer, and Yuji squeaks as you look up at him. The scent of sweet petrichor curls around him – cool, gentle, like a secret not meant to be shared. "I won't hurt you... not a hair on your head. Come."
Your offered hand looks so inviting…
"No!" he blurts out, jerking back. "He said you like human blood, a-and dancing on people's corpses! I don't trust you at all!"
"Do you think sweet animals would sleep around my feet if I were so savage? You'd trust the word of a demon over mine, pup?"
"I..." He hesitates. "F-For this, yeah! He sounded proud. He's never proud of anything, so he can't be lying."
Your lips part slightly before pressing together. Your eyes, once so gentle, narrow. "Sukuna... You're ruining things again with your big mouth. I travelled all this way just to be foiled by my own husband – typical."
You turn Yuji's face, staring at the scar-like line below his eye. "You speak to the child, yet you hide from me. Does it please you to pretend I'm not here? Coward."
Foreign indignance bubbles up inside him. Yuji swallows.
You wait. One second. Two.
Your expression darkens and you rise to your feet, not so much dropping Yuji's face as pushing him away. He steps back, touching his jaw where your fingers once were. Something lingers, painless but crackling like Pop Rocks against his skin.
"Fine," you murmur, like a dull wave against the shore, as you turn your back to him. Your voice is impassive, but the forest responds to your mood as physically as a bushfire. Trees shudder. Flowers shrink away. The foxes stop playing. "Stay silent. Stay spineless. Just don't come crawling to me after, begging for forgiveness."
You lift your head at the brief flaring of heavy, malicious, familiar cursed energy that soaks into the forest around you.
At once, with more urgency than ever before, black markings bloom across Yuji's skin. His features sharpen minutely, his nails lengthen and blacken, and he runs a hand through his hair and sweeps it up off his forehead. With a slow, silent exhale, he pushes his sleeves up to his elbows and shoves his hands into his pockets, tipping his chin up as he regards your figure with eyes that are finally his own.
Emotion burns like red-hot charcoal in his chest. Sharing a body with a teenager was annoying at best and humiliating at worst. Forced to watch through the brat's eyes as you touch him, hold him, even going so far as to kneel before him to make yourself smaller, he despised the way he felt his vessel's heartbeat quicken, how the kid's thoughts turned into jumbled mush the moment you gave him a playful nickname.
Maybe he should tear out the brat's eyes before he gives his body back. Maybe he should rip his heart out again just for the pleasure of crushing it in his fist, knowing that regenerating another meant that the new one would never have raced for you.
You turn. Your expression changes – softens, almost.
"Sukuna," you say quietly.
He says your name slowly. It's almost reverential, his four eyes trailing over your body. His crimson gaze is greedy, drinking you in. You have changed very little – you still wear the kimono he gifted you, tailored and as expensive as ten thousand mercenaries. The hem has frayed slightly, trailing over the ground, but every silver thread still carries the faint thrum of his original cursed energy – a mark, a claim, which you once wore with preening pride, teasing him for his quick jealousy. You have kept it steady, meticulously keeping him alive quite literally on your sleeve.
His lips part. "You're… awake."
"I am." Your eyes narrow. "Not by your hand."
He crosses his arms. Two, not four. "No."
"Why not?"
He pauses, assessing your mood. You stand perfectly still, now taller than him by a significant margin. He thought he'd hate it more than he does. Regardless, you have yet to grab him and sew him into a rock-weighted sack to toss in a lake, so he supposes it could always be worse.
"The brat is an anomaly," he replies, his lower set of eyes glancing down at his vessel's body with a sneer. His upper pair remain trained on you. "I was… suppressed."
"Suppressed," you repeat. You lift your chin and stare down at him. "I thought I married the King of Curses. The strongest."
He bristles slightly. "You did," he snaps, his voice deepening. "I am."
Silence falls. Your cursed energy ripples outward, and as the foxes begin to play again, as if he weren't even there, he knows he is free to speak. You have cloaked his presence, letting his energy merge with yours – as a creature of lies and illusions, nature's guardian god, your cursed energy feels more natural than most, as essential and unremarkable as rain and earth. You've given him a few minutes of secrecy.
"Hm." You step towards him, beckoning with an outstretched hand. He meets you in the middle, and you gently take his chin between your thumb and forefinger, tilting his face up. "You look young, Sukuna. I have not seen you like this in a long, long time."
"Do you prefer it?" he asks, his tone flat with boredom – but he never blinks, tracing your features, printing them into the backs of his eyelids. The weight of his gaze slips lower – to your lips and then to your robes, tantalisingly open from the chest to the navel. His tongue swipes over his lower lip. Your waist is cinched with a wide silk belt, pinned with several draping chains of pearls and jewels. Little charms of glossy jade hang from your sash.
"Don't be jealous." You tilt your head as you blink slowly down at him, curiously tracing his features with your hand. "You are so small now, beloved… It hurts my neck to look you in the eye."
He huffs, but says nothing. You let go of his face and turn to pick up one of the foxes darting around your ankles, which paws at your clothes like a fussy toddler wanting to be picked up. Sukuna almost steps forward to force himself back into your line of sight, to keep your attention solely on him. He satisfies himself by walking half a step behind you, his sleeve brushing yours as you take a seat on a fallen log, the bark blanketed in soft moss. The hems of your robes spill across the deep green grass like a pool of stars.
You place the little fox in your lap, and it curls up in the crook of your arm. Its yellow eyes follow Sukuna as he moves. Expectantly, you gesture to a boulder beside you and murmur, "Sit with me a while."
When he doesn't so much as twitch, your eyes narrow slightly.
"Sit."
He sits.
You lean back, satisfied. You spend a long, silent, suffocating moment watching him, unblinking, in the way cats watch birds.
The mother fox begins to pick her kits up and place them near your feet, one at a time – back and forth, until all six of them are roughhousing a few steps away. Sukuna doesn't try to hide his distaste when a pair of them roll too hard and land on top of your pooling hem. You, however, relax at the sight, a small smile tugging at your lips as the mother trots off to a quiet, shady tree nearby and promptly curls up and closes her eyes.
Children are all the same, regardless of species.
Atop the boulder, Sukuna sits with one knee up and his cheek in his palm. His shoulders are loosely sloped, his hands open and loose, and if you didn't know any better, you'd say he's bored of the company. But you do know better. One set of eyes is always, always, trained on you.
"So," he drawls. "I'm sitting. There. Now what?"
You eye him. "Someone's testy these days… Eager to get away, are you?"
"I—" He exhales sharply. "No. Just aware of time. The brat's supposed to be meeting with his mentor soon. I don't know how long I have you for."
"Ah. That would be the newest Gojo boy I've heard so much about, yes? The only one in recent years to have both the Six Eyes and Limitless?"
"Yeah. That one." He clenches a fist. Loosens it. "I want you to stay away from him."
"Hm." You stroke the fox's brow gently with your knuckle. It curls up more comfortably. "Do you believe I would lose?"
His lips thin into a line. "No. He will become far too interested in you."
"Of course you would think so. Sharing me with anyone else is, to you, worse than death." The fox shifts in your arms, and you can feel its breaths – the steady expansion of its ribs, the inner workings of the heart. Meat and bone. Even Sukuna, next to you, is the same – now in a stolen body, yes, but he was still flesh and blood when he had four arms and four eyes. You, on the other hand, won't leave a corpse to feed the earth.
Inhaling sharply, you turn to Sukuna, suppressing the emotion that still rakes its claws across your heart when you remember he lied to you. I will be there when you wake, he'd murmured when his temples were frosty with time. He'd pushed a folded piece of paper into your hand, containing a short poem in his elegant script. Your sleep may leave you weakened. Until you regain your strength, I will keep you safe.
How humiliating it had been to stumble in front of Kenjaku, of all people. You had once been a force of nature, the only thing the merciless King of Curses ever took counsel with – the only thing strong enough to bend in his wake without breaking. None of that mattered when you were forced to walk with a hand against the wall to keep your balance.
"How do you know the Six Eyes will take an interest in me?" you ask, voice deceptively even. "Even if he were, what does it matter? I am yours, not his."
His fingers twitch at your last sentence. It almost makes you smile; even after all this time, he remains a possessive little creature.
"Sometimes I can see through the brat's eyes," he replies, dragging a hand through his hair. "Gojo Satoru has already taken an interest in you. Over the decades, cursed spirits by your tomb began to concentrate, but their numbers were recently lowered to near zero. The sorcerers suspect one of my fingers was consumed by a curse which razed everything else. They're investigating my history with the area."
"It is always you who causes trouble for me. No one else. Only you." You sigh. "Does the boy know you watch?"
He shakes his head. "The file was open when the boy glanced at it. He didn't even read the title."
"I see," you say. Then, quieter: "Is he aware of us right now?"
"No."
The pause that follows is thick with anticipation. Sukuna watches as you brush your hair over your shoulder, his body turning towards you ever so slightly as if to make himself look larger, to show himself off. Look at me, his posture demands. Look at me and no one else.
You look away.
"I see now that you cannot leave," you say, watching the kits at your feet pounce playfully at each other. "This… displeases me."
"Yeah, well, imagine how I feel."
You're supposed to be angry with him – for lying, for leaving, for a dozen little things you scrounge up in ancient memories just to be petty. But you almost smile, a familiar warmth blooming in your chest that passes as your kind of love.
He opens his mouth. You stiffen and hold up a hand, all humour vanishing from your expression.
"Wait," you murmur, eyes darting around. "Something has changed."
A beat after you, Sukuna feels it, too: a loud, careless rush of cursed energy, emanating from an infinitely-condensed point near the main gates of the campus. A radar, of sorts.
It crackles over him harmlessly, moving on without notice. You place the fox in your arms aside as you rise to your feet, turning to him with a complicated expression.
"Someone has come looking. I can't keep you hidden while revealing your vessel. This is... This is where we must part ways." Your gaze flits over him as you step closer. He tilts his head up to meet your eyes. "I can't say meeting you here made me happy. But... I missed your presence," you admit quietly, "and this assuages that, somewhat. Even if you are still as much of a bastard as you used to be."
He folds his arms tighter over his chest.
You continue, "Worry not. I will wait. After all, what is a few years to a millennium? However… you must promise me something in return for my patience."
He eyes you warily. "What is it?"
Leaning down, you grasp his chin. You glance over your shoulder in the direction of the overwhelming energy, pausing, then kneel in the grass and trace the marks along his cheek. A small smile graces your features, as soft and familiar as the night.
"Come for me the moment you are free. Depending on my mood, I may even offer you a dance," you tease. "You always liked that, didn't you?"
"Of course, I'm not a savage," he drawls, though his voice lacks its usual disdainful bite. He shifts his weight. "Fine. Deal."
"Good. Very good." You draw him closer, your fingertips brushing the soft underside of his chin. All four of his eyes flicker down to your lips. "My good boy…"
You press your lips to the corner of his mouth, as light as satin. For Sukuna, however, it is a grave insult – he grabs your collar and yanks you closer, turning his head so that his lips meet yours instead of his cheek.
He feels your lips curve up against his. They part, and you whisper his name against his skin.
—
"Beloved."
A silky voice, a soft touch. Somewhere in the distance, birds call to each other in the verdant canopies. Your fingers trail over his broad chest, and you prop your chin on his shoulder. You wrap your arms around him, pressed warm and solid against his back. He shifts – not to push you off, but to examine your expression.
You are smiling. Not that beautiful, terrifying show of teeth and tongue, but a small, playful one, reserved for him alone.
"What is it?" he mutters, ink brush hovering over the paper. "Weren't you teaching Uraume to use a bow?"
"I was," you agree, head bobbing. Silver glitters in your hair, woven through it like the river of heaven through the sky – treasured gifts from a man who cares little for personal adornment, but whose gaze always lingers a little longer, a little hungrier, when you drape yourself in his spoils.
"And?" he prompts, turning back to his half-finished poem. Your fingers slip beneath the edge of his dark grey haori, tracing the edge of the cloth. "Finish your sentences, fox."
"Patience. I was getting there. I sent Uraume out to run some errands – when you ask me to craft you weapons, you really don't understand how much you're asking of me. My list was... substantial." Those golden eyes of yours dilate slightly as you tilt your head, staring at the side of his face. You bring your lips to his neck, kissing the skin just below his jaw. "I tire of the heat of the forge. I missed you."
His skin flushes with heat as your touch grows heavier, less fleeting. You press on his shoulder, turning him towards you, and you smile, fanged, as your eyes drift to the grinning mouth splitting his stomach. You lower your hand, pressing your thumb to the sharp points of its teeth, and it laps lightly at your fingers like an eager little pet, saliva thick and viscous.
"You've missed me, too, I see," you hum, playing with its tongue. "Put down the brush." You lean in, licking the shell of his ear. His stomach-mouth kisses your palm, licking your hand into it. "It has been some time since I've touched you, my lord. I will fix that right away."
"You are interrupting my private time, fox," he grumbles, though he doesn't push you away. "Don't try to twist your desires as if it's my fault. You are insatiable."
"You're the one who wanted me all to yourself," you huff, the shimmer of your silken pearly robes pooling around you as you pluck the brush right out of his hand. You wear so much fabric – sometimes he wonders how you can stand to lug it all around. Translucent white ribbons loop around your arms and across your back, shimmering with silver threads. "Do you also blame your stomach for rumbling when you starve?"
Giving up on his poem, he turns to you fully. "What do you want, then? To eat me?"
"Oh, can I?" You lean forward with a half-lidded glance, leaning into his touch when he raises one hand to drape over your shoulders. "I would love that."
"Only if you remove your clothes."
You tilt your head, pointed canines digging into the softness of your lips as you bite back a smile. "So eager. Who's the one with the 'desires' now, hm?"
He scoffs. "Don't be ridiculous, fox. It keeps the cloth clean. You will whine to me later if there are bloodstains."
"I would not."
All four eyes gaze blankly at you. You click your tongue and remove your hand from his stomach, much to its obvious displeasure – its lips twist, corners tugging down.
"Fine. No eating, then. Best to save room for dinner, anyway." You lean in, lips brushing his with a teasing smile. He busies two of his arms with straightening the inkwell and his half-full page of hemp paper – the third props himself up, and the last is wrapped possessively around your shoulders. "Perhaps you can sate another hunger of mine, beloved? I'll accept it as an apology for denying me a proper meal."
"Apology—?" he snarls, head whipping towards you. He glares. "What am I apologising for, you insolent fox—"
He is sufficiently silenced by a kiss.
You are not rough in the traditional sense. Just... bitey. Your canines dig into his lower lip, breaking skin, and he grunts softly as your tongue glides over the slick, coppery blood, pushing it into his mouth. He can feel your smile as you lick his tongue.
You part with a quiet smack, twisting in his hold to settle between his sturdy thighs. You press your forehead against his, stealing fleeting kisses between groans that seem to leave him more breathless than not.
"I know my lord is a generous and compassionate man," you murmur, your chest brushing his. "Sate my hunger. Offer me salvation."
Bare skin to bare skin, he can feel the strength taut in your muscles, the easy steadiness of your body. Despite your preference for twice as much fabric as necessary and all things shiny and luxurious, you are, at heart, just as much a fighter as he. Foxes are still predators, regardless of their glossy coats.
"Am I?" Sukuna nearly growls. His hand around your shoulders lifts to the nape of your neck, closing around delicate bone and muscle. He pulls you closer with a jerk, fingers digging into the soft spot beneath the corner of your jaw. His eyes roam your features, his blood tinting your grinning lips rosy. "Maddening pest. Think you can tell me what to do? You belong to me."
"Naturally," you reply with that same smile. "You always give in, anyway. Rather embarrassing, isn't it? A big, strong man like yourself, bending over backwards to please this little fox... or bending forwards, really. You're obsessed with me."
Nothing about you is little. You're the only thing he's ever met able to look him in the eye.
Sometimes he thinks you hover a few inches off the ground when you stand next to him, just so he has to tilt his head up to meet your playful gaze. But it isn't like he has any real proof; your robes obscure your feet, and you are constantly moving, fluttering about his shoulders in those ridiculous clothes, so it's difficult to get an accurate reading. It isn't as if you'd ever tell him, either.
"Come, now," you purr, fingers dipping into his stomach mouth again. It immediately licks your fingers inward, pulling them closer. "Ah... At least some part of you wants me. I'd almost resigned myself to using my own hand to get off."
His grip tightens around your neck. His eyes flash. "You will not. Your pleasure belongs to me."
"Yes, yes, as always. But you weren't giving me many options, my lord." You pout, stroking the tongue lapping contentedly at your hand. "Why can't you be more like this one? It's always happy to see me. You just call me names."
"That is also part of me, fox." Two of his eyes flicker down to it, watching the way you caress even his most monstrous parts with the same affection you offer the rest of him. Something unsettling curls around his heart. "Its sentiments are my own."
Your smile brightens. "Oh, I knew you loved me, Sukuna! Even if you'd rather pull out your own teeth than admit it."
He rolls his eyes and grabs you with two arms, another pulling at your sash and loosening it. You wear nothing beneath – typical of you, greedy creature – and your cock bobs as he releases it from its confines. He hums, low and rumbly in his chest.
Spitting in his hand, he grabs it and begins to stroke you, all four eyes trained on the pleased expression on your face. You thrust into his palm, one of your hands lifting to cup his thick chest and squeezing. Your saliva-slick thumb rolls over his tawny nipple, pinching and tugging, and you swallow his groan, tilting your head to deepen the kiss.
You nibble at his neck, sucking bruises into his tanned skin. He twists his wrist, his hand heavy with the weight of you. The size is nothing to scoff at. When he glances up, you're already looking at him, smirking knowingly. He scoffs and rolls his eyes, pumping you faster, tugging roughly at the sensitive skin. Your smile falls as you whine pitifully, hips jolting forward. Your thick tip leaks.
"Sukunaaa," you gripe, "not so rough..."
"Shut up." His grip tightens as you groan directly into his ear, hot breaths fanning his neck. His skin prickles, a warm shiver threatening his perfect poise as you moan his name in a lazy drawl. His breathing grows heavy. "You... wanted this."
"So cruel." Suddenly, you press against him, closing the distance between your torso and his. You gaze through half-lidded eyes as you rut against the heat of his body, your tip brushing the lips of his grinning stomach. It opens wide, waiting.
He glares at you. Gently, you lean in, threading your fingers through his hair. You mouth at his jawline, tracing a path up, and you smile at the way his lips part naturally. You kiss him, feather-light.
Finally, mutely, he lets go of your cock, and you are free to move. He rests back on two hands, his thighs like iron around you as you press your hips forward into the mouth of his stomach. It closes immediately around you, more eager than you are, and its wide tongue laps at your length as you lazily fuck into it.
Sukuna's breath hitches violently. He tips his head back slightly but his eyes never leave yours, his expression as impenetrable as stone.
You shift, throwing your legs over his to straddle him. His eyes widen slightly as you push your cock deeper into the furnace-like heat of him, his muscles tensing under your touch. Your balls smack his stomach-mouth's lower lip as you grip his shoulder, your robes slipping around your broad shoulders. Thick muscle ripples beneath your skin as you lower your forehead to press against his.
"Good boy," you husk, fingers tightening in his hair. He couldn't pull away if he wanted to. "That feels good, doesn't it?"
Two of his hands shoot up to grip your waist as you stuff your cock deep inside him, reaching the spongy back of his second mouth. His lips part, eyes fluttering against his will, and you chuckle as he fumbles with your clothes, pulling them away from your thighs so they don't get in the way. He's careful to keep his sharp teeth away, and his lips keep a tight suction around your thick cock. His palm ghosts over your chest and stomach, almost reverential. His eyes are dark as they take in the sight of your length vanishing into him.
You croon as you yank his hair, forcing him to look at you rather than your dick. "Answer me, my lord. Does this feel good? Is it my cock that makes your cheeks flush so?"
His teeth bare in a snarl as you cup his hot face, but it's all posturing. He swallows his insults, knowing you are just as petty and would happily force him to sit there and watch as you stroked yourself to completion.
"Yes," he mutters.
You cock your head. "What was that? I couldn't quite hear you."
Your dick slams into him. He lets out a low growl. "Yes!" he snarls, his bruising strength on your hips making your skin dip. His long nails dig into your skin. "Fuck!"
His arm threatens to buckle under his weight. His second mouth isn't meant for this sort of thing – it sucks and slobbers on your cock messily, less coordinated than the one on his face. Or maybe it's just as coordinated but it feels too good – making him lose his mind, turning him into a greedy, cock-obsessed whore. It salivates, strings of drool connecting your cock to his lips, as he buries his head in your shoulder. Soft, heavy grunts escape him with every rough thrust, deep oval rolls of your hips making his stomach tense up.
"Good answer," you whisper, amused. He shudders almost imperceptibly as you grab his chin and tilt his head up to meet your loving gaze. "Don't hide, Sukuna. I want to watch you while I use you."
He bares sharp teeth, face twisted in a grimace. "Whatever. Just finish quickly. I have other things to do."
"Like what?" You withdraw slightly, wrapping a hand around your length and stroking lazily. His fingers dig into your skin, slipped beneath your many layers and preventing you from backing up any farther. You smile as you lower your forehead to his, your hair a curtain of privacy around you – that smile is sickeningly fond. You murmur, "I don't think you're busy at all. I think you just want me to fight for your attention – as you do for mine."
You're either very trusting or very stupid when you push your cock back into the mouth of his stomach. He considers it for a split second. The idea is simple – bite down and you'll stop goading him. But then he thinks about your easily-given affection, and he thinks about difficult bloodstains in your white sleeves, and he discards the idea entirely.
Two of his hands travel up your sides – cupping your ribs, callused fingertips bumping up your spine. He watches silently, enraptured, as your body moves with more urgency. All that beauty collides with a physical superiority that he cannot ignore. Your hand in his hair stops him from looking away – you're barely trying, too busy chasing pleasure like the gluttonous thing you are, but he really does have to work to even tilt his head down.
Not that he'd want to look away, anyway. Perhaps it was a shame you were a curse, invisible to most humans – you could solve ten wars by supper with a face like that.
Or maybe it was better this way. More of you is his alone.
His muscles flex under his skin as you press deeper with a rumbled groan, your seed spilling across the mouth's slick tongue. It devours you, tongue swirling around your length, mouth hot and sloppy and oh-so starved. You close your eyes and sink into the furnace-warmth of his embrace, threateningly close to burning – close, but never there.
"How does it feel?" you murmur breathlessly, ever-curious about his physiology. Most of the time he dismisses your questions with a grunt, but sometimes, when he's softer, he'll divulge an answer or two. Now, as he stares unblinkingly up at you with lidded crimson eyes, you figure he's the latter.
Sukuna's lips part as he closes his arms around you, pulling you closer against him. He rests his head against your shoulder, the slope of his nose pressed against the side of your neck, and releases a heavy exhale that's more like a groan. His grip tightens on you as your tip rubs the soft back of his mouth with a particularly desirous thrust.
"Deep," he rumbles, tone brusque. He licks his lips, pressing them against the skin of your collarbone. "Very deep."
"Good?" you ask, tilting your head to allow him better access. Wordlessly, his teeth sink into your flesh to satiate his instinct to gnaw and gnash, but not enough to break skin. White clothes, still worn.
"Yes." His sharp nails leave marks in your skin. "Acceptable."
You laugh and kiss him hard. You cup his cheek – the side with the bony growths, the monstrous eyes – and pull him deeper into the kiss, stroking the thick dark line across his bicep and eventually the daintier ones along his jaw. You kiss him with both hands on his cheeks like some delicate thing you aren't, and his skin prickles as if licked by fire.
Lazily, the mouth of his stomach laps up your come, its lips and tongue glazed in a thick white gloss. It dribbles down his lower stomach, soaking into the waist of his dark hakama. You drag your fingers through the sticky mess, coating them in it, and press two fingers into his mouth – the one on his face.
He takes them without complaint, a low rumble escaping him, and he curls his tongue neatly to lick up every drop. You press against his teeth, his tongue, stroking the delicate back of his throat, but your beloved is second to none and he doesn't so much as twitch, let alone gag. You pull them away with a slick pop and you chuckle affectionately as he stares up at you, his chest rising and falling shallowly.
He licks his lips, shining with saliva. "My turn."
He tosses you to the floor – you go down easily, a smile on your face as you gaze up at him, haloed by your own hair. He throws a leg over your middle and leans down to kiss you. He grabs your neck instead of cupping your cheek, but for him, they're one and the same.
Two of his hands tear off his trousers. Properly, too – none of that awkward shimmying, nor the time-wasting stepping-out of trouser legs. Sukuna, as he does a lot of things, does it brutishly: two handfuls of cloth yanked in opposite directions. The fabric comes apart as easily as paper.
You tut, though you can't help appreciating every inch of skin revealed to you. Your hands roam down his waist to his massive thighs, grabbing and squeezing wolfishly as you go. "You will run out of clothes at this rate."
He cocks his head. "You would like that, wouldn't you?"
"Of course. Easier access."
He huffs, not quite a chuckle, as you grab his heavy cock and smear your own slick come against his skin. You stroke him languidly, being polite – for once – by not mentioning how wet he already is when all you've done is use him. "You are a dog."
"Fox," you correct, watching hungrily as he tugs off his haori and tosses it aside. "As you are fond of reminding me."
"In spirit," he concedes, not quite agreeing. He places his hands near your head, and despite his barbaric nature, he is careful not to pin down your hair. He reaches down between his thighs and lines up your cock with his entrance, though you are quick to grab his wrist.
"No oil?" you ask, lifting a brow.
Impatiently, one of his hands brushes you off. "Do not tell me what to do."
Without another word – without fanfare, without flourish – he sinks hilt-deep onto your cock.
Your eyes slide shut as you smack your head against the floor, the sheer heat of him threatening to melt you. Your hands slide higher, brushing his lower set of pectoral muscles. Lost in the bliss of his body, it takes you a moment to register his own hand lifting to grab yours. He holds your palm against his chest as he begins to move, the solid weight of his body dropping again and again onto your lap.
He would not be Sukuna if he were not gluttonous. So, he holds you, rides you, and leans down to kiss you, all at once – and you do nothing to encourage moderation. You entwine your fingers with his, caress his waist, and nip at his lower lip to provoke him into giving you more.
More. It was always more with you. More, more, more…
The suffocating heat of his body is nothing new. You have taken him a thousand times, but you'll never grow tired of it. He is addictive, and you should be pleased you are the only thing his blood has ever run hot for. No concubine has made him feel the way you do.
He grinds onto your cock, the heavy muscle of his thighs clenching around your hips. You throb inside him, sticky precome slicking up his insides and easing his movements. You lick your lips as you grab his thigh, fingers bruising his skin as you grip him and roll his ass deeper onto your cock. You even use the shallow lift of his hips to make the next thrust harder, rougher, deeper.
His heavy cock jolts, slapping your stomach wetly. You grin with sharp teeth as you wrap your hand around it once more, pumping his length from root to tip in time with every roll of his hips. He hisses as a thick bead of liquid dribbles down his glans. His tip is dark red, and you press your thumb into the slit of it, smearing his slick down his pulsing length.
You stroke him faster, making him grunt. He chases your hand, his own tightening into fists near your head. His sharp nails dig into his palms, drawing blood.
What a silly little dear he is. Four hands and not one of them feels as good as yours around his cock.
He pants and growls as he bounces in your lap, muscles flexing as he slams harder onto your fat cock. The wet sounds of your cock squelching in his ass, of his skin meeting yours, are obscene and violent – perfect for a man like him. Hot pleasure shudders up his spine as your cock kisses that spot inside him which makes his dick pulse hotly, a spurt of partially-clear liquid shooting across your knuckles. You smirk as you swipe it up and smear it down his length. Your thumb rolls over his slit and drags down the prominent vein on the underside roughly, as if you're trying to smooth it flat.
He drops his hips, putting his full weight on your cock. He rocks back and forth. You drag your lower lip between your teeth as you toss your head back, and your groan of pleasure sinks into his brain like your claws into flesh. His dick twitches, his balls tightening as he watches your heaving chest and gazes into your dilated pupils.
"You ride cock like a seasoned whore, my lord," you whisper, chuckling as he clenches around you in annoyance. "Nowhere else can I find someone who takes it as easily as you do."
He clicks his tongue, squeezing punishingly around you. You grunt as his tight, gummy walls stroke your slick cock. "Of course I am the only one. You are twice the size of a man. Your cock would break them."
You smile up at him, your eyes half-lidded. "Wouldn't that be fun?"
His eyes flash. His lips curl into a sneer as he leans down to wrap his hand around your throat, nails digging into your skin.
"You have me," he growls, grip tightening. "Speak nothing of others."
He would pulverise bone had you been weaker, but as it stands, all it does is pin you down, the warmth of his palm against your skin making your cheeks heat up. You bite back a smile. You adore it when he glares at you. There's a red flush to his cheeks that he steadfastly ignores.
You squeeze his ass, hand roaming back over his thigh. Playfully, you pinch the thick black line circling his leg. "Is my lord jealous?"
He bares his teeth with a low growl that sounds more animal than man. Your cock throbs. His glare deepens.
You smirk, smug as always, and go as far as to slap his ass, which makes him jolt in shock as the sound cracks like a whip in the room. His glare returns, this time with a roll of all four of his eyes, and he presses you punishingly into the tatami mats. His hole, hot and slick, swallows your cock with ease.
"Fox," he hisses.
"My lord," you reply with a smile. "You're close, aren't you? I can feel your pace slipping."
"Do not test my patience. I will leave you here with nothing."
The threat is an empty one – you know he desires this as much as you. The mouth of his stomach drools, thick and wet, as your cock punches so deep he swears he can feel it at the back of his throat. You both know he would never leave you unattended when he could watch himself be your undoing.
Despite it, Sukuna looks pleased with himself when you offer a begrudging silence. His stomach mouth grins widely as your dick pulses with newfound hunger. Your eyes slide shut as your cock carves a path through the slick heat of his insides, again and again, until his body learns your shape. Your tip leaks, thick and sticky, and he lets out a harsh exhale, his own cockhead dripping with every pump of your hand.
He chases the slick ring of your fist, his low grunts mixing with your unabashed groans as he rides you closer and closer to your shared climaxes.
He barely blinks as he watches your high peak – he has to swallow roughly before he salivates like some barbarian. Your come bursts creamy and thick inside him, hot as lava, and heat rushes up from his chest to his head as he admires the way you groan his name and thrust up sloppily into him. All that natural grace of yours is tainted with the pleasure you take in his body – you are unwound, undone, by a savage like him.
Then you flip him over, throwing him to the floor as if he weighs nothing. He lands with a huff, opening his mouth to complain, but his words die in his mouth as you begin to drill into him, burying your head in his neck and breathing him deep. Every slick clap of skin on skin has your seed leaking out of his stretched hole, white and creamy, and it smears his ass and thighs with each brutal thrust of your hips.
He lets out a sound like a cornered animal. "Fox," he snarls, nails tearing at the floor as your cock demands every lick of his attention. He struggles to keep his voice even. "You – hah – you damned insatiable fox—"
"Insatiable?" you purr. "You haven't come yet. I'm being a good husband and making sure you do."
His hole slurps you up like some vulgar pussy. The filthy volume of come inside him makes every pump of your hips sound like you're in a brothel. Your claws sink into the meat of his ass as you fold him up – crimson blood beads along his skin, and he twitches as your teeth part skin and muscle to mark up the side of his throat. You pull back with a breathless groan that settles deep into his ear, listening to the slick churning of your scarlet tongue as you lick his blood from your teeth and lips.
You dive in again but he tangles his hand in a fistful of your hair, halting you half an inch from his scalding skin. You growl, eyes gleaming, with teeth stained red.
He jolts as your cock slams into his abused prostate, barely able to subdue his shout into a low moan.
"White," he mutters, jaw clamping to silence himself. "No chewing."
Your lips press together in a pout but you settle for lapping at the bite mark, your hips pumping hungrily against his ass. You suppose he's right – taking a chunk out of him always makes you surprised at the amount of blood that spurts out, no matter how many times you do it. But he just bleeds so beautifully – you can hardly control yourself.
Your head is foggy with lust. You press yourself into him, burying your face in the other side of his neck so you aren't tempted to take a quick bite. You leave a trail of open-mouthed kisses up his jaw, lips brushing the black markings that decorate his honeyed skin.
"Sukuna," you breathe, two of your fingers pushing into the mouth of his stomach. You can still feel the creaminess of your own release on its lips. You stroke its tongue and a low, magnificently beastly sound escapes him as his head tips back. The bite mark on his neck bleeds more profusely, pulsing in time with his quickened heartbeat.
"Don't—" He groans as you push one thigh higher, pinning it to your shoulder. It is heavy, with muscle like steel. "Slow—"
"What was that?" You drag your inhumanly long tongue against his calf with a wicked grin, leaning forward. He grits his teeth at the vulnerability of the position. "'Slow down', did you say? Can't my king handle a little roughhousing?"
His cock twitches visibly at the title. You laugh at him, your pace never slacking, and you press a kiss to his calf on your shoulder.
"You're holding back," you say, amused. You angle your hips, thrusting up to kiss that sweet spot inside him, and you delight in the way his back arches for half a second before he corrects himself and glares at you. "My lord, it'll be easier on you if you come. I'll stop trying so hard."
"Shut it."
He hates the way you use his hard-won titles like pet names. Such little respect. If you were anyone else, you'd be cleaved into tiny cubes before you could finish laughing, but then he would have no dancer and his days in your forest would be silent and boring.
You press your finger to his leaking slit. He clenches his jaw. Stubborn. Still, his swollen cock jolts as you grind into him, adjusting yourself above him to fuck him harder, deeper – one way or another, you'll get it out of him.
Suddenly, your pace quickens, and the sound echoes off the walls. The weight behind every thrust jostles his body and he curses you like a war cry, two of his hands grabbing you as the other two hold him up. You lick your lips at the sight of his flushed skin and the sweat beginning to collect at his temple and across his collarbones.
You can't help it. You swoop down and drag your tongue over his chest, and the tang of his sweat mixing with blood makes your head spin with desire. He groans, deep and throaty. Your hips clap against his ass hard enough to make him shout out, and as your teeth sink into the unmarred side of his neck and bite all the way down, he comes with a humiliated, thunderous roar.
You moan desperately into his skin as you follow him over the edge, his clenching insides achingly hot and tight. You fill him up with lazy thrusts, and he twists his hand in your hair so hard you feel lightheaded. He yanks you off his bleeding neck with a growl – you hang from his fist with a drunken grin and ruby-stained teeth, your jaw working slowly. Blood drips down your chin.
He can feel the cold sting of the air against his exposed meat and veins, a neat little scoop taken out of his shoulder. It annoys him that his cock throbs at the feeling, and his chest heaves as he pushes your grinning face away. His face is hot.
"You… Tch. I told you not to chew," he grumbles, healing it with a roll of his massive shoulder. He goes to wipe off the blood dripping down his chest but you beat him to it, cleaning him up with your tongue. You use the moment to mouth at his nipple, tongue laving across it, and pop off before he can smack you away.
You chuckle as your tongue slides over your front teeth, your voice rich and husky. You wipe your chin, smearing it. "But you liked it, Sukuna. It pulled such pretty sounds out of you."
"I—" He clicks his tongue, breath catching slightly as you pull your cock out of him with a slick, sticky pop. His thighs twitch as you grab his messy length and coat your fingers in his release, pumping him twice before lifting your hand and admiring the white glaze sticking between your fingers. He watches silently as you push two fingers into your mouth with a pleased groan, then lap up the rest when it drips down your wrist.
"Finish your sentences, my lord," you tease, tossing his own words back into his face. He rolls his eyes as you pause to suck your ring finger clean. "Maybe I should bite you more often. You taste like bliss. Come, now – tell me how much you enjoyed that."
Chest still heaving, Sukuna sits up straighter, widening his legs to fit you comfortably between his thighs. You kneel there – lazy, satisfied, practically glowing. Your robes pool around you like scattered starlight as you wait for his answer.
"You are impertinent, troublesome, and spoilt," he sighs, voice a low rumble. "But fine. Yes, I enjoyed it. No, you will not do it again. Today."
You wilt like an abandoned flower. "Why?"
He rolls his eyes and pulls you into his arms, heavy and possessive. He reaches up and swipes his thumb over a trickle of blood from the corner of your mouth, and you press your lips to the pad of his finger, licking it up. "There is blood on your clothes."
You glance down to where he points at your sleeve. Your eyes widen and Sukuna braces himself. On cue, you grab his arm and begin to complain directly into his ear, nails digging into his freshly-healed shoulder.
"Sukuna – what is wrong with your body? Why does it bleed so much? My sleeve was nowhere near your neck! Look at what you've done – do you know how hard it is to ensure the cloth washes white and not pink? You ask so much of me – entertain you, keep this estate hidden, smith you a dozen weapons from myths and fables – which is ridiculous, I say, do you know how difficult it is to create cursed tools? – and all I ask in return is to not bleed on me, yet here you are, bleeding on me, like some—"
You are cut off with his lips on yours. You stiffen slightly in surprise, then melt into it, leaning in and tilting your head. He groans softly as your tongue curls with his, your hand lifting to twist in his hair. You smooth it off his forehead, tracing his hairline with a light touch, and he pulls you closer with three hands. The last one cups your hand on his face.
He pulls away to breathe. You sit back on your heels, pupils swallowing up the gold of your irises. You blink slowly as you steal another kiss, lips smacking halfway to indecency again. He leans back before you can drown yourself in him and try to push him back to the floor – a very unseemly place to do such things, in his opinion.
He lifts a brow. "Calm, yet?" he asks, absently pulling the collar of your robes over your shoulder.
"Enough," you acquiesce, watching him move over to grab his discarded haori near his table. He shrugs it on, his lower pair of arms not letting go of your body. You smirk. So jealous, even when nothing threatens to take you away.
"That is better than nothing."
"Mm." You crawl closer and walk your fingers up his arm. "Write me a poem, beloved."
His eyes snap up. He bares his teeth in a sneer that does nothing to dissuade you. His grip tightens on your hip. "What?"
"A poem," you say with infinite patience. "Whichever type you prefer. I know you enjoy praising me through poetry – my face, my sorcery, how I 'revel in the fires of your chaos'! Oh, yes, I've read a few of those volumes you've made, pushed to the back of your drawers." You smile, a dark edge to it, as you meet his glare unflinchingly. "This time, I want no secrecy – I want to observe your artistic process. Perhaps I will forgive you for staining my clothes if it is sufficiently flattering."
"Why are you rummaging through my quarters?" he scoffs. "Those poems are not for you."
"So you say. You refer to me in everything but name. If you truly wanted to keep them secret, you would've burnt them." You shift to sit beside him, leaning forward to pull the paper and inkwell towards the edge of the table. "Go on. Write."
He rolls his eyes. He adjusts to sit sprawled, lazy, one arm resting upon his knee and two around you. It brings a smile to your face. He was always terribly voracious for your attention, like a feral animal you feed once and cannot escape. No matter how he feels, no matter the company, he would always bend to your whim.
You grab his thigh, pawing at the meat of him like a kneading cat, and you almost laugh aloud when he pointedly tosses the hem of his haori over his cock. You nuzzle into the crook of his neck, sliding your palm up to the crease of his thigh, and cast your gaze down to the paper, the poem from earlier half-complete.
"'Kitsunebi'?" you muse, tilting your head. "Foxfire. Not for me, you said?"
He exhales sharply, shooting you a warning glance. In response, you pluck the brush from its resting place and smile sweetly as you grab his hand and push it into his palm.
How ridiculous it is that he must hide his belongings in his own home. The logical thing to do would be to rid himself of you and your curiosity. Instead, he simply lowers his gaze and rolls the brush tip in the black ink.
—
When Sukuna opens his eyes from the kiss, you have already begun to pull away, to step back – and he is reminded of his physical limitations once more.
"Greedy," you chuckle, swiping your thumb over your lower lip. "Go now – let the boy have his body back. Perhaps I will see you again. Follow my foxes; they will lead you to me."
Something compels him to speak. "And you?" he murmurs lowly. "I refuse to waste my time searching for a dead spirit."
Will you be safe? The question is unsaid but clear as day. You hum.
"If I can hide from you, I can hide from anyone. Rest assured, no one but you will ever spill my blood." You step behind him, pushing him towards the school campus. "And… Sukuna?"
"What?"
"I really did miss you."
He turns, but in your place is a nine-tailed white fox, silent and watchful. Your ears flick. After a lingering second, you rise from your haunches, curling around him and batting his side with your tails, before slipping away and leaping into the treeline to vanish completely into the forest's shadows.
His skin prickles with the fading remnants of your cursed energy. He clicks his tongue, jaw clenching. Your cloak will not last much longer, and he can sense the brat waking up. He presses his fingers to his lips, savouring the memory of your sharp, sweet warmth.
He closes his eyes, already feeling his control over his incumbent vessel lapsing. He spends his last moments of autonomy replaying the moment his lips touched yours, a moment a thousand years in the making.
Moonlit silk, ribbons of stars, a smile sharp enough to cleave bone. The world fades to soundless oblivion.
higuruma would do anything to please you
masterlist
working at a large law firm means you often work late. by your side is your secretary, higuruma. he was quiet, and soft spoken while you are loud and outspoken. from bossing him around to yelling at clients or talking aggressively to yourself, you dominate the office. he would be lying to himself if he didn’t find your dominance a turn on. you were like a princess to him, and he wants to please you in any way he can.
it was another late night. the blinds in your office were drawn shut, blocking out the empty cubicles and the stars shining over the city. it was so quiet that no one would have known there were large, hooded eyes staring up at you jerking off with your black lace panties wrapped around his dick.
“mm princess.. you’re so pretty.” he had been there for some time, stroking with slow flicks of his wrist, falling apart while waiting for your next instruction. “more princess.. i can take it.”
leaning back on your desk, you spread your legs apart, your folds catching his attention immediately. like a dog seeing a bone, he scoots closer to your open heat. he wraps his arm around your thigh, getting a better look at your pretty pussy as he desperately strokes faster. “wanna taste?”
without an answer, his tongue was hot and steady, his eyes never leaving yours. your fingers tangled in his dark hair, pressing his face close as his tongue traced slow, worshipful strokes into your wetness. the slick heat of his mouth was sinful and desperate—his nose bumping into your clit every time he tilted his head just right, making your thighs tremble.
between breaths, he murmured broken praises against you, ‘you taste so good’.. ‘you’re too good to me’.. ‘you make me feel so good’—the vibrations making you jerk against his tongue. every sound you made, he made one in return. “use me however you want, princess.” yanking him out of your thighs, whine slipped from his mouth, forcing him to look at you with blown-out pupils and spit-slick lips parted by ragged breathing. his adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed, as if trying to taste you still. “lets put that nose to use, yeah?”
letting you guide him, your hand still fisted in his hair, his nose pressed into you, teasing and rubbing over his slick folds as his tongue continued to lap at you. his nostrils flared as he inhaled your scent deeply—he dragged the bridge of his nose up your slit in one slow, filthy stroke, his lips parting just enough to catch your clit gently between his teeth gently. “i’m—i’m gonna cum.. like this.. tell me i can’t.” he panted against your skin. “please.”
“course you can’t.” melting into you further, he drowned in his humiliation. “yes princess.” his eyes nearly crossed as he nodded against you, his fingers digging deeper into your thighs. his cock jerked in his grip, leaking onto the floor beneath his knees as he rutted into nothing. like a marionette pulled by its strings, he obeyed your movements. “hiro, flip me.”
as he obeyed, a loud smack echoed from your bare skin as you hit the desk. with his nose still pressed against you, now from behind, his breath was hot against your ass as he inhaled sharply. both arms slid between your thighs from behind, his fingers teasing your entrance while his nose dragged up in the crease of your ass.
his nose slid inside with a filthy wetness, the hooked curve dragging against your walls in a way that had you both seeing stars. “just like that, hiro.” clamping at your waist to hold you still as he fucked into you with shallow thrusts while his tongue swirled messily around your clit.
“i’m c-close again.” he whimpered, his voice high-pitched. He pressed his nose deeper into you, the pressure painful as your thighs clamped around his head, leaving him unable to breathe. just when it almost became too much, he pulled back once his vision started to fade—gasping for air, his lungs desperate—before thrusting his nose back in. reaching behind you, you patted his back, indicating that you were cumming soon, “princess.. please cum for me.”
his tongue came with relentless, broad, wetter strokes. "give me what i want, please," whining with nasty, sucking kisses sealed around your clit, desperately trying to satisfy you—pleasing you so, he didn't realize he had came on himself and on the floor. the moment you arched under his tongue, he broke up under you—your walls clenched around him, his tongue lapping hungrily through every pulse, desperate to wring out every last drop of pleasure from you. when he finally came to, his lips were swollen and his nose glistening with your cream.
