I'm wondering how vampire sylus might handle periods...
Aren't we all 😳
SMUT BELOW THE CUT
Warnings: smut, period fic, implied power imbalance (vampire/thrall), potential dubcon (I feel like it can be read as implied consent or not idk), fingering, blood, gender neutral (AFAB) reader, blood eating, mean Sylus (kinda?)
Sixth LADs Masterlist
It's obscene, the way those long, slender fingers plunge deep inside of you. Tan skin becoming drenched in arousal and blood. Gossamer threads of both stretched between his fingers as he spreads them, just to watch the strands snap.
"Look at that," Sylus hums, all too pleased. His other hand releases your thigh to cradle under your chin, forcing you to watch as he repeats the motion. "Isn't that a beautiful sight, my beloved?"
You can only respond with a choked sound.
He has you spread out on his bed, resting back against him as he delights in tormenting you with this "feast" as he so put it. "And a feast," as he put it when he first coaxed you open, "is meant to be savored."
And savor it he does. Every sound, every twitch, every ounce of blood he collects. He makes sure you watch as he raises them to his mouth. His tongue accepts them first. Licks along his knuckles, up to the nail, stealing a long drag of ambrosia. He draws it back in with a groan, eyelids fluttering shut, throat bobbing as he swallows. "You are delicious," he says, like every word carries its own weight.
A smirk curls along his lips. Eyes open, gleaming the same shade as his fingers, as he turns his attention back down to you. His hand holding your head in place raises its thumb, coaxing your mouth open. He can see your teeth, lacking fangs. Your tongue, glistening with saliva. Your throat, closing around a swallow as your mind catches up to what he's about to do.
"Don't swallow," he commands, his authority rooting you in place as bloody fingers reach into your mouth. They press down on your tongue. Maybe it's instinct that has you sucking on them, despite the disgust crinkling your nose or the iron bitter on your tastebuds. Either way, he chuckles, pleased with you, as he ensures every last drop of your blood is left behind.
When he removes his fingers, trails of spit cling to them. "Such a good little pet for me," he croons. You shiver, mouth still open, eyes lidded as you watch him, waiting for him to take the taste away from you. You don't have to wait long, before he kisses you deep, and devastating. His tongue greedily laps at yours. Fangs tease the soft skin of your tongue as he sucks on it. He almost wishes to bite it, if you weren't already losing so much blood from your monthly cycle as it were.
He draws away, but his mouth hovers over yours. His hand at your jaw tightens, keeping you there, keeping you open, as the other presses between your legs once more. His fingers press deep, deep inside this time. You release a keening whine into his open mouth, that curls into a delighted, hungry grin. You expect him to pull them out again straight away. Torment you by dragging this night on for an eternity.
Rather, they begin thrusting into you, curling up against your gummy, sensitive walls with fervor. You grab onto his arm, his bed - anything that can give you any sense of leverage. Your legs kick and twitch, trying to shut around him from the overwhelming stimulation, but his Evol grabs them and wrenches them open wide. You're dripping blood onto his sheets. Staining his hand. He doesn't give a damn. He just wants to hear you, taste your cries, as he makes you cum on his fingers.
toji’s size is the first thing you notice, and the last thing you forget. he’s all hard lines and dense muscle, towering over you so completely that he has to duck through doorways. standing close to him feels like standing in the shadow of a mountain, and the first time his hand, big enough to wrap around your entire thigh, settled on your waist, you felt a jolt of pure, primal awareness straight to your core.
the contrast is what drives him wild. he loves using his size to make you feel small, but safe. he’ll come up behind you while you’re cooking, his chest pressing against your back, and just reach over your head to grab a spice jar you were stretching for. he won’t say a word, just hums, his breath stirring your hair, and the sheer ease of it, the way he handles you and the world around you without effort, makes your knees weak.
there’s a filthy thrill in the way he can manhandle you without even trying. one hand is all it takes to pin both of your wrists above your head against the mattress. his thighs are so thick and powerful they can keep your legs spread wide open with just the weight of one thrown over yours. he’ll look down at you, trapped and utterly at his mercy under his bulk, and the smirk he gives is pure sin. "where you think you’re goin’, sweetheart? ain’t no escape from me."
he’s obsessed with the visual. his big, calloused hands spanning your entire waist, his fingers almost touching when he holds you. the way your delicate jewelry looks wrapped around his thick wrist after he’s taken it off you. he loves holding your tiny ankles in one hand, spreading you open so he can see everything, watching himself disappear inside you, your small body struggling to take all of him. "fuck, look at that," he’ll grunt, voice dark with lust, "look how you stretch for me. made for this, ain’tcha?"
but for all his roughness, he has a surprisingly soft spot for cuddling. after he’s wrecked you, thoroughly and completely, the beast settles. he’ll pull your limp, boneless body against his chest, your back to his front, and he’ll envelop you entirely. one massive arm is a heavy, comforting weight around your waist, his big hand splayed possessively over your stomach. you feel tiny, but not fragile—protected. cherished. like a secret he keeps locked safe against his heart.
he finds ways to use his size for comfort, too. on the couch, he’ll slouch down and just tuck you into his side, your head fitting perfectly under his arm, your legs thrown over his massive thighs. he’ll use one hand to scroll on his phone, the other absently tracing patterns on your hip, and the sheer warmth and solidity of him is better than any blanket. he likes feeling you use him as your personal pillow, your heater, your fortress.
he whispers the filthiest things in that low, gravelly voice of his, things that should be degrading but just make you burn for him. "gonna fold you up like a little pretzel, keep you just like this," or "my pretty little thing, takin’ all this dick so good." but then, in the same breath, after he’s made you come apart, he’ll nuzzle his face into your hair, his voice going soft and sleep-slurred. "my good girl. my perfect, tiny girl. s’all mine."
and in the morning, when he’s still half-asleep, that’s when he’s softest. he’ll curl his big body around yours, seeking your warmth, and bury his face in your neck. his arms will hold you so tight it’s almost constricting, but it’s just his way of making sure you’re still there. you’ll feel him press a sleepy, open-mouthed kiss to your shoulder, a silent, possessive claim, and you’ll know that for all his terrifying size and strength, he’s the one who’s utterly wrapped around your little finger.
you’re just so… soft. and toji, a man made of hardened muscle and sharp edges, is utterly obsessed with it. he’s a man of simple, visceral pleasures, and the feeling of your body beneath his hands is his favorite thing in the world. he’ll pull you into his lap just to sink his hands into the plush of your hips, his thumbs rubbing absent, soothing circles there while he watches tv, like you’re his own personal stress ball, but infinitely more precious.
he’s a tactile sleeper, always has been, but with you it’s a whole new experience. he’ll curl his big body around yours, one heavy arm slung over your waist, his hand splayed possessively over the soft curve of your stomach. he’ll nuzzle his face into the back of your neck, his breath warm against your skin, and let out this deep, content sigh that rumbles through you. he sleeps deeper, more soundly, when he’s wrapped around you, surrounded by your warmth and softness.
and the way he looks at you when you’re getting dressed… it’s enough to make you blush every time. he’ll be leaning against the doorway, arms crossed, that lazy, hungry gaze tracking the way your favorite jeans hug your thighs, or how your sweater stretches just so across your chest. he doesn’t see flaws; he sees decadence. he sees a feast. and he’s starving for you, always.
he loves buying you things, especially clothes he knows you’ll feel amazing in. he’ll come home with a bag, a smirk playing on his lips, and inside is some ridiculously expensive, butter-soft sweater or a dress he just knew would highlight every curve he worships. "saw this and thought of you," he’ll grunt, trying to play it cool, but his eyes are shining with the anticipation of seeing you in it.
his protectiveness goes into overdrive, but not in a stifling way. it’s in the way his hand finds the small of your back to guide you through a crowd, his bulk shielding you from jostling. it’s in the way he pulls you into his side on the couch, your head tucked under his chin, his chin resting on the top of your head like you’re his most cherished secret, his personal sanctuary of softness in his otherwise brutal world.
and when he’s inside you, that’s when he truly comes undone. his hands are everywhere, gripping the fullness of your thighs, squeezing the softness of your hips, palming your breasts like he can’t get enough. he whispers filthy, reverent praises against your skin, "so fuckin’ perfect," "so soft for me," "all mine." in those moments, he’s not the infamous sorcerer killer; he’s just a man, utterly and completely whipped for the feel of you.
you lay beneath toji on the rumpled bed, your legs wrapped tightly around his waist as his powerful body moved against yours with deep, purposeful thrusts.
his scarred lips brushed your ear while one large hand pinned your hip in place, holding you steady for every heavy stroke. sweat glistened on his broad chest, and his dark eyes burned with raw intent as he drove himself deeper inside your welcoming heat.
“that’s it, baby,” he growled softly, voice low and steady like distant thunder. “gonna fill you up again tonight. make sure this time it takes.” his thick cock stretched you open with every roll of his hips, the wet sounds of your bodies meeting filling the quiet room. you could feel him so full and heavy inside you, dragging against your sensitive walls in a rhythm that left you gasping and clutching at his muscular back.
toji shifted slightly, angling his thrusts to press right against that spot that made stars burst behind your eyes. his free hand slid down between you, fingers finding your swollen clit and rubbing firm circles in time with his movements. you arched into him, moans spilling from your lips as pleasure coiled tighter in your core. he had already come once earlier, leaving you messy and leaking, yet he showed no sign of stopping, determined to push every drop as deep as possible.
“been thinking about knocking you up again,” he murmured against your neck, nipping at the skin there before soothing it with his tongue. “watching your belly swell with my kid. these tits getting full.” his pace quickened, hips snapping forward harder, burying himself to the hilt with each thrust so the head of his cock kissed your cervix. the pressure built relentlessly, your body trembling beneath his weight as he fucked you with single-minded focus.
you whimpered his name, nails digging into his shoulders while your walls fluttered and clenched around him. toji groaned deeply, the sound vibrating through his chest as he held you close. “come on, sweetheart. milk me dry so i can put another baby in you.” with a few more powerful strokes he pushed you over the edge, your release crashing through you in waves that made your vision blur. he followed right after, groaning your name as he spilled hot and thick inside you, flooding your uterus with pulse after pulse until it overflowed.
he stayed buried deep, grinding slowly to keep every bit of his seed where it belonged, his hand gently stroking your stomach as if imagining it already growing. “good girl,” he whispered, pressing a surprisingly soft kiss to your forehead. “gonna keep you like this until it sticks.”
toji's so pussywhipped he wants to marry you! (˶ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ˶)
18+ mdni! based on this req
✶⋆.˚
what’s gotten into him? i mean, it’s been hours and he can’t seem to pull out away.
“c’mon princess, keep those eyes open for me.” he groaned above you, rutting into you with smooth, long, and languid strokes.
you’d never heard him so desperate before, and right now, I don’t think you could even process that.
it’s been hours, a blur of positions, and countless creampies. right now, he’s got you on your side with your thigh wrapping around the front of his waist. god, could he even be any deeper?
yes. yes he can.
“‘ji...ngh…i can’t anymore..hic! t-too s-sensitive now…” you practically pawed at him, leg flailing briefly before his veiny, deft hand wrapped around the meat of your thigh. flawlessly, toji hoists your leg further up to rest on his shoulder, his wide tip kissing your womb over and over.
“aww, but pussy’s telling me otherwise, princess. she wants it deeper ’n harder, right? right, princess?” he mocked, his tone pitched up to a teasing lilt, while briefly speaking to your throbbing and gushy pussy. he stared down at you with a shit-eating grin plastered across his scarred lip as he purposely leaned down closer to you, to angle to hips better. he groans like a bitch and you can’t get enough.
“fuck. look up at me baby? eyes on mine c’mon, yes, look- there’s my pretty girl. hi baby.” he chuckled deeply, head tilting to the side, lips barely brushing yours to tease.
"haah... still so fuckin tight, princess.” toji rasped, completely arched over you, sweaty forehead resting on yours. both of your legs were now thrown over his shoulders and bent into a mean mating press. your mind was too mushy to realize this change in position, each thrust pushing all other thoughts out of your silly cockdrunk mind.
he tried to keep a steady pace, he really did. but by god how your walls fluttered and pulsed around him was trap he had no desire of escaping.
it wasn't enough to just be inside you anymore. he needed something permanent.
his hips began to stutter.
“fuck, baby…” he managed to pant out, uttering a desperate and breathless laugh. his gaze dropped down to your hands clawing at his biceps, branding his skin with your nails.
"pussy so good, gonna put a ring on your finger, doll.” he panted out breathlessly, just barely falling off the tip of his tongue as his thrusts increased in speed and rhythm. “i mean it, princess.”
your chest heaved, a breathless gasp caught in the back of your throat, eyes widening and watering. your cheeks grew even hotter and burned a cute crimson as your walls convulsed around his girth, so tight, that toji whined. you buried your face into the pillow whimpering out a broken, pathetic sound as a slick thread of saliva dribbled down your chin.
toji smirked, chuckling beneath his breath. “fuuuuck yeah you want that too, don’t you, princess?"
toji’s hand slithered from your collarbone, over your breast, alllll the way down to your lower belly. his palm slowly pressed down on your tummy, forcing you to feel the bulge of his cock...as if you hadn’t already.
“you want everyone to know you belong to a piece of shit like me, huh?” he taunted, getting off on the self-degradation.
"show me how bad you want that ring, ma. milk me for it. i know you can clench harder f’me- yeaahh...there you go, f-fuck…” he threw his head back and closed his eyes shut, his scarred lip twitching as he started driving into you wildly.
“yeahhh….my girl wants me to lock her down and make her stay with me forever, huh? maybe even put a baby in you if you’re that much of a slut.”
"'t-toji please....please i-i want it!" you begged, arms wrapped around him and clinging onto his back.
that's all he needed to hear. he let out a breathy, ruined laugh against your lips, finally claiming them in a messy kiss. with one last push, toji let out a pathetic, strained whine as he poured another heavy creampie into you. he now hunched over you, panting in tandem and into your hair, his heaving chest mirroring yours. his hand came up to cup your jaw lovingly, thumb wiping the drool from your lip with a certain gentleness that proved his devotion.
it was true- you had him in the palm of your hand. and judging by the desperate look in his eyes, he was already planning the ring to match.
✶⋆.˚
THIS TOOK FOREVER IM SORRY but i hope this satisfies your cravings ദ്ദി◝ ⩊ ◜.ᐟ
reblogs and comments highly appreciated and encouraged! inbox is open!
CONTAINS ⨾ ( 2.5k+ ) words of . . . nsfw, adrian ‘alucard’ țepeș x vampire!fem!reader ( black coded ), canon-divergent, set in the set in the 15th century ( late 1400s ), established relationship, soft-dom!alucard, nasty rawww freaky ass vampire sex, missionary, blood-letting, blood drinking, size difference, use of pet names ( e.g. love, darling, iubire, etc. ), explicit language, lowercase intended, minors shoo!
𝓂𝓎 𝓁ℴ𝓋ℯ 𝓁ℯ𝓉𝓉ℯ𝓇.ᐟ ❥ requested by the lovely @rsv3n! thank you for the splendid idea <3 i think lulu would be veryyy open to a blood-sharing ritual — actually he’s a little too excited, lol >.< he’d love teasing you with that thick, red sweetness, swapping the liquid between your tongues as he fucks you nice 'n deep mmm . . that’s as intimate as can be, and he wants to be irrevocably close to you . plsss hubby is just so in love <3 please enjoy this little blood-stained drabble, and thank you for reading! ❤︎
𝐼𝒩𝒮𝑃𝒪 𝑇𝑅𝒜𝒞𝒦.ᐟ ( ♫ ) drunk in love, beyoncé ⨾ candy, cameo ⨾ a little death, the neighborhood ⨾ whatever you want, tony! toni! toné! ⨾ join me in death, HIM ⨾ blur, the marias
dhampir blood is cloying, to put it best. sticky, syrupy, and far more potent than any mortal vein. your husband had been kind enough to let you drink in that confirmation just hours ago.
castlevania’s ancient stone held the chill of a thousand transylvanian winters, but within alucard’s grand bedroom suite, the air was just about thick enough to tangibly cut through. on the floor lay a forgotten graveyard of finery — stiff silk corsets and a froth of ruffled lace embroidery cast aside in the height of your lustful fever.
with a reverence that treats you like glass, alucard has you laid upon velvet furs, dropping you tenderly as if you weren't immortally powerful. he lowers his own body down to yours, defined and beautifully scarred, until his limbs entwine with your own and the cold of the castle fades into a distant memory.
your skin remains so soft to the touch, holding this otherworldly glow; even after turning into something devoid of life. in the guttering candlelight, his pale skin looks like polished marble, the flickering flame highlighting the pink slash of his flesh scar, a stark contrast to the heat radiating between your cold, pressed bodies. he was only one part mortal, a beautiful contradiction you find it to be — and beneath his ribs, half of a heart still drums a slow, heavy rhythm.
alucard’s hips find their home between your thighs once he finally sinks into you. you bracket the slim taper of his waist with your trembling legs, head throwing back as he presses the slippery crown of his pretty cock past the sticky schism of your puffy lips. you moan so deliciously whenever he enters you, a sound as coaxing as a lullaby; he doubts he’s ever heard anything sweeter.
his wispy blonde lashes flutter whenever your gushing hole contracts just enough to squeeze around the girth of him. he swears your heartbeat never truly left you; it must’ve simply gone down to your cunt, waiting for his touch to call it back to the surface. he begins to press into you with slow, deliberate rocking. it utterly delights him — watching you mewl at the stretch he brings, breasts swaying with each thrust careful thrust he feeds you.
“adrian . . mmm, d—don’t hold back on me,” your plush lips are agape, the sliver of your precise fangs shining as you puff out sultry breaths of air out between them. “please, my love, fuck me faster,” you plead, the soft ache of knowing you can handle him — and that he knows it too — melting thick and heavy between you.
your stiletto claws glide like the flat of a smooth blade over his skin, tearing vivid lines of crimson down the pale, broad canvas of his back. a low chuckle spills from him, dark and sweet like honeycomb, sending a deep, rhythmic throb straight to your core. there’s no need for words; you both know the truth by now. he craves the pain you bring.
“whatever you wish, my dear,” he indulges your request, no matter how bratty your whims might be, and takes a firm hold of your waist; hands locking onto the dipped curve of it, anchoring you to the bed, to him, so he can plow into your sopping pussy until the sharp collision of slapping skin casts the wettest, most lewdest of echoes throughout his bedchamber. your voice breaks into a scream of pure delight, a sweet kind of sound that vibrates through the room, making the wallachian-pine of the bedframe creak and groan beneath every heavy drop he makes into you.
he begins to moan out your name between labored huffs, fangs bared with every breathless moan that slips out from his bobbing throat. adrian lowers his head, a curtain of golden hair cascading around him as his dark gaze fixes on the exact point where he enters you — over, and over, and over again.
you peer up at him lovingly, trace the image of your angel of a husband; watching as the base of his throbbing cock sheathes in deep, just to reappear with every heavy, punctuated drive of his hips. his abdomen flexes tightly with the effort. higher up, his thin brows are drawn up, pearly teeth grit, and his nose scrunched as his eyes squeeze shut in the pure surge of pleasure.
then, your gaze drifts, zoning in on his exposed throat.
you find yourself fixated on the slender, elegant line of his neck, tracing the way it curves seamlessly into his shoulders and collarbone — you’ve always held a soft spot for it, your lips constantly drawn to kiss and nuzzle the skin there. the sloping protrusion of his adam’s apple catches your gaze of how he swallows down his pooling desire, all as you eye that subtle vein running along the side, pulsing with every breath.
the curiosity has lived in you for so long — the wonder of what a dhampir’s blood might taste like . . . what alucard’s would taste like. as the intensity between you builds, your dilated eyes blow wide, mouth parting as you fixate on his neck. your focus narrows entirely on the way the veins running along it grow prominent, with all the exertion he’s putting into fucking his darling wife so, so well.
your husband’s always had the uncanny ability to anticipate your thoughts, even before you act on them. his eyes snap open, catching you in the act of staring — as if the sudden, ebbing heat in his flowing arteries have already warned him exactly where you want to bite.
the hammering pulse in his throat begins to thrum harder.
“ah, you thirst . . . is that it, my love? shall I grab a chalice?” he delivers an especially grinding thrust, pairing it with the humble swipe of his thumb over your clit. you whine, you nod, you weep, all from the sheer pleasure of it.
your head tosses against the pillows, the thorny edge of your nails sinking into his shoulder blades until fresh, bright blood spills and beads over your grip. it takes everything in your being to keep your hands from drifting up to your awaiting tongue.
“hnnn! y-yes, but I . . . I want yours,” you manage to gasp the words out, even as the heavy force of his rhythm knocks the breath right from your lips. your eyes lock — your glassy, completely dilated gaze catching the piercing gold of his. in that silent, breathless look, everything clicks.
he finally gets it.
“you — haah, you wish to taste of me?” adrian questions, leaning down low, slowing his thrusts and fucking into you harder, deeper, as if to pound the truth out of you. you nod, teary and needy, hands trailing up to caress either side of his neck, warming his silken skin with your open palms.
“mhm,” you whisper, “i’m sure you’re sweeter than any wine . . .” your teeth catch your bottom lip, aching for the moment his potent blood finally drips onto your tongue. your ribbed, velvety walls clench around him at the mere thought, a sudden sensation that ripples through you both. adrian feels your pulse throb in perfect tandem against his skin as his hips continue their slow, heavy roll.
“fuck,” he manages out, the word torn from his throat. he never imagined a desire so dark would excite him so. “for how long have you yearned for this?”
“far too long, my love,” you mewl against his skin, pressing stray, wet kisses up the length of his neck. your fangs lightly graze his sweat-sheened throat, catching right over his adam’s apple. you suck gently against the pulse point, the sharp friction causing him to twitch and jump deep inside you with a sudden, ragged gasp.
“resist no longer, iubire.” he whines lowly, the muscles of his thighs and core flexing hard against you with every deep shove. “take what you want.”
alucard gathers his long blond hair in one hand, sweeping the heavy tresses over his shoulder to bare the smooth expanse of his neck. you gaze up at him, mapping the absolute submission written on his face. his golden irises gleam back at you in the dark, glinting with a sharp, needy excitement as he waits to feel your fangs against his skin.
as if to soothe your hesitation, he implores you with the breath of a command against your skin:
"drink of me." he whispers, his voice a low, heavy vibration that seems to echo through the silent stones of the chamber. it does well at reassuring you. sliding up the smooth, warm expanse of his neck in your hands, you bring your lips to his skin, agape mouth brushing his artery with a grateful sort of reverence. leaning in, you allow your fangs to graze the hot skin of his jugular, tracking the frantic ba-dum of the pulse that marks his human heritage.
when you finally, finally, bite down, alucard lets out the sharpest, most ragged breath, his hands locking onto your hips as he bucks up into you at the welcome intrusion. his rich dhampir blood surges into your mouth — a potent, velvety syrup that tastes of concentrated life and a deep, metallic sweetness that coats your tongue like the most saccharine nectar.
“hngh, y—yes, yes, yes . . .” his eyes scroll back into his head as you cradle his beautiful face in your hands, completely helpless under your touch as you drain him, lapping his blood hungrily into your mouth. the fluid is intoxicatingly rich and warm, sliding down your throat like a heavy, golden essence that could only belong to a dhampir. he trembles beneath you, utterly consumed by the way your tongue sweeps along his major artery, siphoning every sugary drop of the rich blood he so willingly surrenders to you.
you let out a soft, gratified moan at the cloying sweetness of him; though not entirely drinking every ounce he offers. you hold some of the thick velvet syrup behind your teeth — gathering just enough in your mouth to perform the next ritual you have in mind. pulling back just by an inch, you meet his gaze with a heavy, unblinking focus, your plush mouth stained with the red coppery-taste of his life-force.
alucard blinks down at you hazily, his golden eyes blown out and dazed as he groans against your lips. when you finally press your mouth back to his, the exchange is thick, visceral, and wet; nasty and lawless, just as vampires would do.
your fangs clash against his — a sharp clicking of ivory, as you share a desperate kiss that blends salt and iron. the rich essence slicks your tongues, and alucard greedily drinks his life-force straight back from your mouth.
alucard tilts his hips into yours with a slow, grinding force, his large frame pinning you flat against sheets of romanian silk as he slides back deep inside you.
his hands find yours against the soft bedding, his long fingers sliding between your own to intertwine and lock your palms tightly together. the direct friction of his thighs against yours generates a building heat that matches the warm syrup coating your tongues.
he pulls back just an inch, his eyes glowing a fierce gold in the dim light as he gives one final, bone-deep shove that leaves you both trembling. his lips are stained a deep, beautiful red, mirroring your own.
“never thought my wife would be so . . . thirsty,” he muses, swiping his tongue over your lips. you can feel him smiling against them, a soft and intimate pressure.
you’re nearing closer to the edge, all from the searing taste of his blood, every sensation amplified to a fever pitch. he is also hazy from the feeding, his movements turning drawled and heavy as he rolls into you.
“c–cumming,” he huffs, grinding his pelvis down into yours one last. “mmm . . me too,” you clasp your arms around his neck, pulling him down into a messily wet kiss as your walls pull taut around him, reaching your coiling climax with a silent scream released straight into his mouth.
he returns the intensity, fucks shallowly into your gripping cunt; spilling thick, lukewarm ribbons of his heavy load deep inside you. you both rock into each other, riding the high of it all with shut eyes, panting into each other’s mouths until the heat finally peaks. adrian lifts himself off of you to lay beside you, his strong arms coiled around your waist to pull you close against his chest.
side-by-side in the stillness of the chamber, you lay curled together on the plush bedding. the ancient castle grows still, though the heat of the moment remains between you. he drowsily blinks his heavy eyes open, his cheeks a beautiful, shaded rose that deepens into a rich crimson. his mouth is slightly agape, the lower lip stained with the bright, copper taint of his own life-force.
“you still look rather . . . parched, my love.” his hand slides up to caress your waist, his smile widening slightly as he offers you his bare throat. his fingertips trace the wet bite marks on his neck, marveling a bit at the funny, new sensation of being on the receiving end of those punctured holes. knowing the wounds will knit together soon, he silently urges you to lean back in and get some your fill before his flesh heals over.
“come, dragă mea,” he insists, pulling you in closer by your waist until you're flush against him. bringing his thumb up, he slowly swipes it over your reddened lip, his mirthful golden eyes searching yours.
"Open that fuckin' mouth wider, slut—gonna ram my cock down your throat till you choke on it," Toji growled, his massive hand fisting your hair tight at the roots, yanking your head back so your lips parted on a gasp, eyes watering already from the brutal pull.
He loomed over you on his knees, scarred chest heaving, veins bulging along his thick forearms as he slapped the heavy weight of his cock against your cheek—hot, veined length smearing pre-cum across your skin in sticky trails, the musky scent filling your nose while his balls hung low and full, brushing your chin with every degrading tap.
You whimpered, tongue darting out instinctively to lick the salty bead from his slit, and he laughed dark and mean, free hand cracking across your face—not hard enough to bruise, but sharp enough to sting and make your pussy clench empty between your thighs.
"That's right, greedy little whore, drool for it. You live for this fat dick stretchin' your holes, don't ya? Beggin' to be used like the cumdump you are."
Your hands scrambled up his thighs, nails digging into the hard muscle there, feeling the twitch of power under sweat-slick skin as you nodded frantically, mouth stretching wide around the fat head when he shoved forward without mercy—lips sealing tight, tongue flattening under the girth invading your mouth, ridges dragging over every ridge of your teeth until he hit the back of your throat in one brutal thrust.
Gags ripped from your chest immediately, wet and choked, saliva bubbling at the corners of your lips as your throat convulsed around him, trying to push him out but only sucking him deeper instead.
Toji didn't give you time to adjust; his hips snapped forward again, fucking your face with short, vicious pumps that made your nose mash against his coarse pubes, balls slapping your chin rhythmically—plap, plap, plap—while tears streamed down your cheeks, mixing with the drool cascading down your neck and soaking your tits.
"Fuck yeah, gag on it—feel that? Your throat's milkin' my cock like a tight pussy. Nasty slut, takin' it all. Deeper, swallow every inch or I'll slap those tits raw."
He yanked your hair harder, forcing your head to bob faster, guiding you like a fleshlight as his other hand wrapped around your throat from the front, fingers squeezing just enough to feel his own cock bulging inside, the pressure making your vision spot and your cunt throb desperately, juices leaking down your inner thighs onto the sheets below.
You hollowed your cheeks, sucking sloppy and desperate, tongue swirling the underside vein that pulsed hot against it, and he groaned low and filthy, abs clenching as pre-cum flooded your mouth—bitter and thick, coating your tastebuds while you swallowed convulsively around the obstruction.
Spit flew with every withdraw, strings connecting your swollen lips to his glistening shaft, and when he pulled out fully to let you gasp for air, he backhanded your cheek lightly again, smirking at the mark blooming.
"Look at you, face fucked stupid already. Pussy drippin' on the bed—bet you're achin' to get wrecked. Turn around, ass up, face down. Gonna spank that ass before I breed it."
You scrambled to obey, knees spreading wide on the mattress, ass high and presented like an offering, pussy lips puffy and parted to show the slick hole clenching on nothing, clit swollen and begging.
Toji's palm came down first—crack!—right on the fullest curve of your cheek, the impact jolting through you like fire, skin blooming hot and stinging as he gripped your hip with bruising force to hold you steady. "Count 'em, Mama. Thank me for markin' what's mine."
Another smack landed harder, then another, alternating cheeks so your ass jiggled with each strike, flesh rippling under the assault while you yelped the numbers out—"One, thank you! Two, thank you, Toji!"—voice breaking on sobs of pain-laced pleasure, the heat spreading straight to your core where arousal gushed freer, dripping audibly now.
He paused to spread your cheeks wide with both thumbs, exposing everything—pussy weeping, tight pucker winking above it—and spat directly onto your asshole, watching the glob slide down to mix with your cunt juices. "Filthy holes, both beggin' for it. Gonna finger that ass while I pound your pussy—make you cum like the anal slut you are."
His thick fingers—two at once—probed your rim without warning, pushing past the ring with a burn that had you arching and screaming, the stretch obscene as he scissored inside, knuckle-deep, curling to massage your walls while his other hand fisted your hair again, pulling your head back until your spine bowed.
Then his cock slammed home into your pussy—no prep, just the fat head breaching your folds and burying balls-deep in one savage thrust, walls ripping around the invasion, fluttering wildly as he bottomed out against your cervix.
"Fuck—tight as a virgin every time, squeezin' me like you wanna keep my load forever. Take it, princess—gonna choke you out while I ruin this cunt."
His hand snaked around, clamping your throat from behind now, squeezing rhythmic with his hips as he started railing you—long, punishing strokes that punched the air from your lungs, cockhead battering your deepest spots while his fingers twisted deeper into your ass, thumbing your clit on the outstroke to force sparks up your spine.
The room filled with the wet squelch of your pussy devouring him, skin slapping skin in brutal rhythm, his grunts mixing with your muffled cries as he yanked your hair like reins, spanking your already raw ass between thrusts—each impact making you clench harder around his pistoning length.
"That's it, cream on my dick—first orgasm's comin', I feel it. Milk me dry, ma." Pressure built relentless, coil snapping as you shattered—walls convulsing in waves, squirting around his cock in hot gushes that soaked his balls and thighs, body shaking violently under the onslaught while he laughed through gritted teeth, never slowing.
"Good girl—cumming so hard you're floodin' the sheets. But we're not done. Gonna fill this pussy up, then flip you for round two."
He pulled out abruptly, cock slick and shining with your cream, and flipped you onto your back like you weighed nothing—legs shoved over his shoulders, folding you in half as he plunged back in deeper than before, the angle letting him grind vicious on your g-spot with every snap.
Hand back on your throat, choking harder now, stars bursting behind your eyes as oxygen deprivation amped every sensation—his free hand slapping your tits alternately, nipples pinched and twisted until they throbbed. "Look at me while I breed you—eyes on mine, slut. Feel that? Balls tightenin', gonna pump you full of cum till it leaks for days."
You came again midway through, harder, nails raking bloody trails down his back as your pussy spasmed, vision whiting out—but he fucked through it, pace fracturing only when his own release hit, roaring as ropes of thick, hot cum erupted deep inside, painting your walls white, overflowing around his base in creamy rivulets with each final grind.
Panting, he collapsed half on you, cock still twitching buried deep, plugging his load in as aftershocks milked him. But his smirk returned quick, hand sliding down to scoop cum from your stretched pussy, shoving it toward your mouth.
"Clean it up—taste how I marked you. Then ass next time, promise." You sucked his fingers eagerly, body limp and sated, already craving the next brutal round.
Synopsis. Four arms. Four eyes. Two mouths. Ryomen Sukuna has everything he needs and more: power, riches, enough concubines that he’s grown bored of such frivolities. That is, until you’re entering his royal estate as the newest addition—and he just didn’t expect such a puny little human to become…
His favorite.
Pairing. Ryomen Sukuna x Reader
Content. MDNI, fem!concubine!reader, Heian era!Sukuna, true form!Sukuna, DP, Sukuna’s second mouth, the Sukuna Estate, other concubines, schemes, sIight pIot, mostly just true form Kuna mmmmpfg, he’s the master, he’s BIG (like really big), four arms, two mouths, he’s FÉRAL, mouth-ríding, sort of face-sítting, p sIapping, oraI (f + brief m), DÚMBlFICATION, making it fit, tight squeezes, stretching, tummy buIges, cervíx smooches, sIight degradation, bréeding, mentions of heirs, MANHANDLlNG, tension, full nélsons, overstímulation, spítting, foIding, stopping you from running, making you CRY, rough s, he’s MEAN, creampíes, cúmpIay, muIti-tasking (iykyk), implied marathon, slight proposals, pet names, swéaring.
Word count. 10.5k
A/N. Blame that split-second frame from the last episode not me…
“Of the eighty-two chambers, you are free to enter most.” Uraume’s words were smooth, steady, and not a second longer than necessary; just as their steps were down these winding hallways.
You’re hastening your strides to keep up.
“You may roam in the gardens and libraries. The main kitchen has its doors always open, the Eastern one is for specialty desserts and guests, and the Western one is for poisons…and guests.” They continue, “The dojo is forbidden to anyone but the master, and you are expected in the Buddha room every evening.”
They suddenly halt.
Boredly, “You do plan to stay alive, I believe?”
And you could barely breathe, “I-I believe so?”
You’re realizing that you’ve stopped at the end of a massive bridge connecting to a quieter wing of the estate—intricately carved, and accompanied by a slow river drifting underneath. Uraume’s hand falls to the edge of the lattice doors, “Good. Here we have the concubine quarters-” Looking at you seriously, “-where you shall reside.”
A shiver runs down your spine.
Truth be told, you hadn’t expected to get this far.
According to what the stories and legends claimed, a mere mortal like you would have been sniffed out—would have been sought after, would have your flesh torn to shreds the very second you stepped inside the Sukuna Estate. If not by the monster that inhabited it, then the Estate itself.
Some whispered that it was inhabited by cursed spirits - amongst something far, far worse - that both guarded and imprisoned. Whilst others whispered that the house itself was a cursed spirit in the form of this sprawling aristocratic estate—as vast as a palace. Even more whispered that whomever entered the house gained a taste for blood, and even most claimed that a house’s auspiciousness reflected that of its master’s.
For who else would inhabit such a place but Ryomen Sukuna, the King of Curses himself?
If the public whispered about the estate, they simply yelled about the sorcerer that inhabited it. Blood-curdling screams.
There was no avoiding the rumors that swirled around the special-grade; those who were unfortunate enough to cross his path painted a picture of a beast more than eight feet tall, with glowing blood-red eyes and horns that tore open the skies. Storms he could silence with a single wave of his hand. His powers were what made legends—never before had there been seen a sorcerer as strong as he, and it was likely that there never shall be again. Though that was not for a lack of trying, or talent, or assassinations.
Despite remaining living, he was depicted in temples and murals of hell. Four arms. Four eyes. Two mouths and countless tattoos. So imbued in his sorcery that it metamorphosed his physical body itself - Ryomen Sukuna was said to be something more than human, but something less than a person.
Look at him wrong and you might find yourself without sight. Without life.
Thus, not many dared to lay their eyes upon him—but they didn’t have to. He left a pathway of destruction and blood-soaked footprints wherever he went.
A kill count higher than several populations.
Wherever he went, it loomed the dark shadow of a hand across the land. Currently that hand was grasped tight around the city of Heian-kyō: the home of Ryomen Sukuna, it sat at the very center of the capital. Dubbed aptly by the citizens to be The Estate of the Dead. For no human that wandered inside, will ever wander out.
And yet, that’s exactly the chance you’d taken today.
You’d had enough.
You’d waltzed right up to those grand doors this evening, dwarfing everything and anything around it, and knocked. Dark mahogany panels. Gilded handles. Unlike most noble homes, the Sukuna Estate didn’t need to have guards stationed outside it—for who was mad enough to bother the King of Curses?
You, it seems.
And so the busy road froze around you; the residents paused mid-gossip, the merchants stopped haggling their prices, the carts and wheels creaked to a halt—the world itself held its breath as the doors to the estate had opened.
And a short, slender person stepped outside.
They were dressed in a dark monk’s robe draped over a white kimono, equally white hair dazzling - almost ethereally odd - underneath the sunlight. They closed the door behind themself, and looked at you intensely. “State your purpose.”
You struggled to remember why you were here in the first place, “I-It is my greatest honor to-”
“Hasten.”
“I only wished to-”
“Hasten-”
“A position.”
You weren’t sure who was more bewildered at the words that blurted out of you—you or the citizens around you. There were soft gasps that echoed into the air, peering even closer at the strange interaction. However, the attendant merely looked at you uncertainly, and you hurried to explain yourself. “I come seeking employment, my lord of the house.”
“I am but a mere servant.” They replied, raising one hand. “And we seek help no longer.”
As they attempted to turn back and go inside, you’re rushing. “Please-”
Brows furrowed, “I said we seek help no-”
“But I swear that I shall be the most loyal servant to the master…” Bowed slightly, a slight rush of relief goes through you as you notice they’ve turned back. Just barely, but it’s something. “-after yourself, of course.”
They huffed in slight amusement.
And your hands shook. Gripped onto the long length of your sleeves, you steadied them before you continued - just as you’d practiced. “I swear upon my soul that no assignment shall be too great, no concern too small. Please—please, I have scoured every street and alley for weeks now in search of employment, and you have been the only one kind enough to open your doors…Any job is enough for me- any. Just spare me the chance.” Hands twisted together into a plea, “I beg of you.”
They looked slightly taken aback, and you stepped closer to seize your chance.
“My body is the master’s, and I shall gladly undertake any task.” You gazed straight into their doe-like, brown eyes—“Any task.”
Their lips barely moved as they repeated, “Any?”
“Any.”
There was a ringing silence following your answer, and you knew that everyone in the once-bustling vicinity must have been staring at you. But that didn’t matter.
Nothing mattered but the way the white-haired attendant let their brows raise, they appraised you from head to toe.
Head to toe.
Head to toe.
It honestly seemed like forever before they finally sighed, “At ease.”
And you shot upwards from your painstaking bow with an awed breath.
Untold, the doors to the Sukuna Estate opened. They turned around, not meeting your eyes - nor that of anyone around you two - and gestured for you to follow them inside. Stepping inside as though they didn’t care whether you proceeded or not, the strange attendant uttered. “I expect you to use your body well to serve the master.” Just barely tilted to the side to take another look at you, “You have one night to please him.”
The sound of wrought iron echoed through the ancient city like thunder.
And you touched your sleeve once more - your best silk, but more specifically…the dagger you’d hidden beneath it.
You had one night to take down the King of Curses.
In no time, you’d been led around the massive estate by Uraume - they’d uttered their name to you between the meeting chamber and the second library - and your heart still thumps away at your throat as they now creeeeeeak—! open the quarters for the concubines. Blood bubbling in your veins. Blade cold against your skin.
There was a buzzing sort of excitement that seemed to extend from the weapon and onto you—only growing stronger as you’re pacing inside.
It wasn’t the small, structured sort of barrack that you might’ve expected - you weren’t sure the validity, but you’d already heard stories about how concubines were cramped together in certain royal palaces. Bunks on top of bunks. Bodies that remained undernourished and untouched.
However, what Uraume takes you through is a gilded hallway—nothing out-of-place from the rest of the palace. On one side was a line of separate rooms, at the end of the hallway the paneled doors opened to a garden. It had unlit lanterns on the high ceilings and intricate artifacts that seemingly sprouted from the gleaming wooden floors; the spotless corridor branched and divulged into several other rooms and hallways, weighed with nameplates, and you were shocked to realize that each concubine seemed to have their room - no matter how small their rank; there was a lingering of perfume in the air.
Fit for royals.
Your eyes bounce off of the walls, and Uraume watches your reaction closely. “I assume it is to your liking?”
“Yes-” You wouldn’t want to give off the wrong impression - especially not when a mere offense could mean death—“F-forgive me, it’s far more than to my liking, it’s…” Taking another awed look around, “-magnificent. I suppose I didn’t expect it to be so…”
“Beautiful?” Uraume seems to read your mind.
And you can only turn to them and nod.
They sagely nod, something knowing in their tone. “The master has an inclination to all that is beautiful and surprising.” Looking at you closely, “Particularly surprising.”
Uraume’s expression gives nothing away, and you attempt to do the same - the dagger glints coldly against your hand. A single movement and it could cut you. A single movement and it could be in your hands.
You don’t know how long they maintain eerie eye contact with you before the sound of footsteps makes you tear your eyes away—and where you’re perhaps expecting to see the monster, the inhuman, the master of this house himself—it’s another woman. Human, perhaps.
Donned in expensive silk that robes her figure, she tip-toes towards the two of you with a sheepish smile upon her painted face.
She bows, and you’re bowing back.
“Forgive my intrusion.” She says as she straightens once more, “It is seldom we meet a new girl. Perhaps this is forward, but am I right in presuming you are one of the new concubines?”
“O-oh, you are correct.” You’re surprised by her warm and welcoming demeanour - weren’t fights and jealousy typical of close concubine quarters? Wasn’t she supposed to scheme and plot against you just as you were doing against her- you suppose your master?
But she takes your hand and beams at you, “Then it is most wonderful to make your acquaintance. Ask me anything you would like.”
Your lips part - unsure what to say - but the white-haired attendant at your side beats you to it by announcing. “Dinner shall be served shortly.” They turn, about to make their exit before eyeing you closely. “Human.”
And you wondered whether they meant to call you human…or they meant that dinner was human.
Once those delicate doors slide shut, and Uraume’s footsteps disappear, you’re just then realizing that you were still holding onto the other woman’s hand. Mustering up some semblance of a smile, you’re asking her—“Could you tell me about…Ryomen Sukuna?”
.
.
.
“There’s a descendant of the esteemed Kamo clan here, as well—” One of the women chuckle, taking a deep drink of her sake - one of those expensive types that came in an intricate wooden box. She smacks her lips in satisfaction, “-but you just missed her.”
Your heart batters against your chest- you still had the dagger hidden up your sleeve. Setting down your water, you hope that none of the other concubines here can hear the waver in your voice- “I see. Is she perhaps attending the…?”
“Huh?” The woman looks at blearily for a few seconds. “Who? The master?”
You nod silently.
She exchanges a look with one of the other women-
Before bursting into rambunctious laughter.
And you’re sitting there confused as they clap one another on the shoulders, as they rattle the food-laden table—as they wipe mirthful tears from their eyes. Repeating the last sentence to one another and breaking out into peels of laughter once more. Surely, you hadn’t said anything too humorous…perhaps this was some unspoken rule of etiquette you’d missed?
It hadn’t been too long since you’d been somewhat- absorbed into the group of numerous concubines upon concubines that were housed in the Sukuna Estate. Many more than you’d initially predicted - the hallway you’d entered had been just one of many residential wings.
Right now, about half of them sat at a long table of which you couldn’t clearly see its end - both because of length and the sheer volume of food towering upon it. All sorts of soups and noodles. All sorts of breads and wines. All sorts of meats and charred vegetables. Desserts and colorfully-packaged sweets from around the world that you’d once believed that only the emperor himself would have been able to taste.
It would have been possible to dislike every food you’d ever known, and still find something here that made you wish to stay…if just for the food.
You could hear the other half of the women chattering and laughing away in another dining room connected to this one.
All in all, your proponent - a woman you’d learned was connected with the Fujiwara family - had told you everything about Sukuna as she introduced you to the other concubines. They took you in readily, to your surprise, and cooed and surrounded and showed you around. Speaking to you about how the estate was designed personally by Sukuna himself. How Uraume was his (human) cook. How he was a ruthless ruler, and the hallways were more often bloodied than not—but he didn’t lay a hand on them.
When they’d told you this, you’d assumed it was regarding his more…aggressive reputation on the battlefield. You didn’t think it meant-
“Our Kamo girl has travelled to Edo.” The woman from earlier - Abe, you remember her name being - continues as the others settle down. She whispers scandalously, “To visit her lover.”
You breathe in sharply, “The master permits you to take lovers?”
“It isn’t that he permits…” Fujiwara smiles warmly at you - not too far down the table. The other concubines nod as she continues, “It’s that he doesn’t pry—he has no time for human frivolities. After all, the master hasn’t called for one of the girls in…well, since we can remember. He’s a picky man. But nowadays, girls enter and leave the estate as they please, as they wish for employment. Most choose to join the house staff in time, for we aren’t bound, and the master seems to have no need for concubines these days.”
Surprise overtakes you, your hand grips tightly on your sleeve. But your objective…
Abe speaks up now, “Which is why it’d been quite the surprise to know he’d allowed in yet another.” She leans in with a conspiratorial smile, “Perhaps you’re the type to really get his loins going-”
“Abe—!” A few other women swat at her.
“I jest- I jest—” She winks at you, “In part. Would you prefer to lay with the master?”
Something twists at the bottom of your stomach, “I-if it must come to it, I wouldn’t mi-”
You’re cut off as they exclaim in scandal all around you.
Fujiwara shakes her head with a smile, then she looks at you. “No matter what it is, you shall be housed and fed here. You shall never go without despite the master’s…”
“Impotence?”
“…”
“I jest-”
“What’s more—” She pulls back her sleeves and gestures for a bowl of sake, “Given the state of affairs, I highly doubt that you would ever have to-”
Just then, there’s a tap at the sliding doors.
An announcement of Uraume’s title—before they’re cracking the entrance open just a fraction. That stark white hair of theirs flashes from the gap in the door, illuminated by both the dim yellow lighting and the curiosity leaking out of the dining room; eyes scanning the vast chamber before finally landing on you.
An utterance of your name.
All eyes snap to you.
“The master wishes for you to join him tonight.”
One by one, you could feel the jaws of the other women drop—as well as your own. Right alongside something at the pit of your stomach that you couldn’t quite describe.
As the silence stretches and expands to the other speechless dining chamber- Fujiwara lets out a pointed cough—and it’s all you need to jolt right back to your senses. Scrambling to stand up, you barely have the time to smooth down your kimono before following Uraume out of the room - throwing a cautionary glance over your shoulder.
Fujiwara smiles, slightly shocked.
Abe winks.
The sliding doors rattle closed, and the whirlwind of gossip that follows accompanies you even to the bridge.
Head ducked. Hands in sleeves. Uraume remains painfully silent as you’re following them down winding hallways and past chambers vast enough to be estates themselves; and though you’d been given a tour of the place beforehand, you can’t help but let your mind get just a little frazzled at the thought of what was to come after.
Of what was to come once they finally stopped.
And they do—after what feels like nights upon nights, the white-haired attendant stops before two sliding doors - nothing but sliding doors. Though you’d assumed that the King himself might have decked his personal chambers with several of his best guards, you’re realizing with a prickle of anticipation that he didn’t need them.
But that only made your job easier.
Invisible hands seem to pull the doors - panes decorated in artwork depicting archery - apart, and you’re entering a room that would have been too lavish for an emperor.
A massive rectangular-shaped room of which strange interconnected woodwork make up the flooring; windows towering from floor-to-ceiling, half-hidden by thick curtains of red velvet. They clung themselves onto a ceiling that was gilded, calligraphy rounding the high perimeter, and a chandelier-like composition of lanterns fashioned down from it. Reds and greens and blacks and golds, the most eye-catching painting colors of furniture within.
In the far end of the royal chamber was the futon.
And you would describe its incredible size and its golden threading, even the red, red blanket that covered it- you would…but your eyes were far more interested in who was occupying it.
Thighs spread. Two elbows resting on his knees.
All four eyes locked on you since the moment you step inside-
“Uraume.” His lips barely seem to move, though that hoarse baritone is hard to deny. It wasn’t as inhuman as you might have expected—it sounded human and yet, there was surely something malevolent in the way he made your thighs squeeze together with just a single word. “You are dismissed.”
You’re feeling Uraume bow deeply next to you, and in the blink of an eye they’re gone-
In another blink of an eye, Ryomen Sukuna has one large hand stuck out - index quirked at you, he beckons you to him once. Only once.
And you gulp as you walk to him.
This was your first time really seeing the King of Curses- fuck. He was wearing nothing but baggy white pants and a strange, carnal inkling about him. Engulfing you in it the second you’re locking eyes with him. The legends were right…somewhat.
Because Sukuna truly was larger than any mere mortal could ever be: with shoulders sculptured and broad enough that they’d put your best warriors to shame, with corded muscle around biceps the size of your head, with his pecs creating a bumpy road for his tattoos. He was about nine feet tall—perhaps even taller than the stories said. Far taller. Far stronger. Far more monstrous.
Abs consistently patterned his front, disrupted only by the presence of his second mouth - it slashes aaaaall the way across his navel, large n’ licking his cursed lips with a grin.
And those tattoos- oh, those tattoos.
They were the tattoos of a criminal - two looping around each of his four arms like shackles, and then a circle on all four deltoids.
You bite the inside of your cheek—you knew your mission. But fuck- you won’t deny that a part of you wanted him so bad.
Sukuna’s pink hair catches the lantern light as he leans back on two hands, meaty thighs manspreading before you. And in-between you swear you could see the thick, throbbing outlines of two-
“On your knees.” The King commands. Crimson eyes narrowing, “Should you so wish.”
And your knees are buckling almost instinctually- he raises a rose-pink brow as he watches your hands reach for your sleeve…before ultimately going against your orders to settle down before the foot of the bed where he was seated.
Embarrassment curdles in your chest as you’re crawlin’ yourself closer to him, and the sorcerer himself hums in approval once you’re leaning your cheek against his right thigh. Rubbing.
The muscles underneath twitch—and Sukuna’s swollen tips let out a spurt of precum that puddles right in front of your lips. That translucent dampness stretches across the fabric and wets your lips with its salty taste- you whine.
Right before he grasps the back of your sweaty scalp with one massive hand- and shoves your head down onto one clothed cock. Your mouth gaped wide and plopping! right on top of his mushroomy tip—an open kiss against where his sensitive slit was flared outwards.
He’s pulsating against your lips.
And you’re moaning with your eyes squeezed shut at the feeling of his entire tip being nearly fuckin’ big enough to envelop your entire maw-
“Do you understand now?” Sukuna’s tone rumbles from above - low and level in a way that speaks of such power. He doesn’t reveal anything more, however. “Do you understand that your puny human body cannot handle me?”
You’re looking up at him with furrowed brows, “I-I understand…”
“Do you understand that I may ruin you?”
“I understand.”
“Do you understand that you cannot take m-”
“I want you-” And almost as bewildering as the fact that you’ve interrupted him, is that Ryomen Sukuna doesn’t crush you with his cursed energy on the spot for interrupting him. “-my lord.”
But that seems to be his tipping point. For his large stomach mouth quirks upwards in what almost seems like a smile—
And Sukuna gruffs out, “Then kiss your King.”
And so you’re gripping onto the soft edge of the mattress and leaning yourself up into his kiss- not the one his face was so ready for—but one where you’re leaning in and pressing a chaste peck onto his second mouth.
Onto those monstrously large lips hungrily gaping at his stomach.
Onto that fucking hungry - starved - maw so deprived of any touch that he’s immediately slurpin’ the edge of his textured tongue outwards. Attempting to enter his incredible size between your own lips, Sukuna’s only managing to fit about an inch of his cursed tastebuds—swipin’ the insides of your heated cavern and making you gasp, before he’s searing his grip into your scalp and tugging you off-
“Naughty naughty.” He trundles. And yet there’s a glimmer of something different in his eyes that told you Ryomen Sukuna was almost…excited. He’s patting one side of him on the futon, “Come up here with me, insolent thing.”
In no time, you’re hauled onto the bed and straddling the infamous King.
Thighs struggling to squeeze around his toned core, cunt drooling your slick through your panties. As you’re inadvertently rubbing uuuup and down his ridged abs- it creates a snail trail of glistening sap that trickles all the way down to his pinkish-brown happy trail.
Sukuna titters once he leans his head down and takes in the mess - n’ then he’s gripping one side of your waist with a single hand.
Squeezing lightly, it doesn’t take even a mere fraction of his power to glide the exterior of your pussy down those unruly tufts of hair—dooooooown in a carnal scratch as he positions you directly on top of his second mouth.
His second mouth.
Now gaped wide open and fucking ravenous.
Immediately cracking apart from each other with a parched gasp- something deep and rumbling from his underbelly. It reminds you of a creature that’s been starved for eons—something that makes shivers run up your spine right from the in-betweens of your drippin’ wet cunt. Right as you’re feeling his oversized tongue press aside your ruined underwear and start to eeeeeease inside-
“Fuh-fuuuuck—” Dazed peripherals rolling to the back of your head - without even realizing it, you’re planting your feet onto the futon and bucking- whether more into Sukuna’s cursed mouth or away from it…you’re unsure.
But he’s making the decision for you. He’s cupping either side of your hips with two clawed hands, letting those pointed tips dig into your clammy flesh, “Easy-” Letting out a rumbling chuckle. “Easy there, woman.”
Gasping, you’re lurching-
“Easy.”
And it’s all he needs to steady you.
It’s all he needs to tighten his hold onto your squirmin’ body, until it’s like he’s attached onto you with adhesive. It doesn’t take much of him to move you ‘round and spread open those folds even further like a pretty flower—that massive tongue of his wastes no time before swirling around that first ring of muscle. Cutely clenching around him- fuck, he can’t wait.
Before slurping his muscle back and shoving it straight between your pussylips.
Through the popping pressure in your ear, “Because how’re you gonna take my cocks otherwise?”
And you really didn’t forget who you were dealing with, did you?
You really didn’t think that Ryomen Sukuna - the King of Curses - was going to go easy on you…did you?
Because without even waiting for your struggling walls to get used to the size, his enlarged tongue reels all the way backwards with a deafening slurp! Right until the curvaceous tip was ticklin’ at your entrance, before Sukuna’s thrusting all the way back in. Again.
Your toes curl. Your eyes dart instantly to the back of your head.
Sukuna himself cracks a smirk- before he’s then doing it again.
And again.
“Don’t think yer running from it.” A third hand ends up plastered atop your clammy scalp- dangerously gripping your head and puuuuuushing you down onto him.
As far as your tight hole would let him. Your thighs quiver, “B-but-” Bucking.
“Now now, brat—” Pushing you back down. “Ya get what you’re given.”
Again and again.
It doesn’t matter how many times you’re twisting on top of him because of the ruthless swabbin’ of his tastebuds inside. Honed at the very tip and zig-zagging around in a way that makes you viscerally shake on top of him—he’s slipping his velvety muscle inside and stirring it a few times to get a reeeeally good feel for your walls. For how much you’d stretch. “Because you shall fit- oh…” He seethes between clenched canines, nose scrunched at the very top. “You must- fit it. You must not run away.”
Another tough battering ram of his thick tongue - it’s almost adorable how your poor body is being jerked to and fro. He murmurs, “For who can possibly escape Ryomen Sukuna? Heh.”
His tongue seems to wind n’ stretch even deeper inside you after his own self-praise - you always have heard rumors about the King of Curses being particularly egotistical…though righteously.
And again and again—“P-please.” Sukuna’s second tongue fills you up in all sorts of ways you’ve never felt before - not with the texture or the size or the complete and utter need…Those ridged tastebuds of his were pushin’ into eeeeevery single nook and cranny he could reach - which was all of them. At least, as far back as your dewy walls were allowing him to go, “Such a size should be-”
“Necessary.” He’s cutting you off cleanly. “Besides…”
Sukuna raises a pink brow, leaning backwards on the mattress to watch his massive tongue indulge in and out. In and out. In and out.
Your puffy folds being pushed apart at a rapid pace, your gloss seeping everywhere as he tunnels inside—he’s letting out a low whistle of approval as his second mouth creates such a mess between your legs. Monstrous tongue jerking outwards and slapping the front of your cunt teasingly- it makes a fresh wave of your juices slather down your thighs.
And he smiles - already knowing that he’s going to clean this up later.
The King’s chest rumbles with satisfaction, “Heh- you should be aware, little human…that m’not even halfway inside yet.”
There were two things in that sentence that drove you utterly wild: the fact that he mentioned he was barely inside, and the fact that he said…yet. As though to prove the point he’d just sparked inside your muddled brain, Sukuna arches his hips off the bed and ruts-
Pistoning his tongue a mere inch deeper.
Even though - to you - it feels like he’d just struck his tongue against your very throat—“Wh-what you claiming…” Your thighs quake as he continues fucking you between them, “How much longer may you possibly have to go?”
“Oh…an inch, two, four….seven.” Sukuna tilts his head airily, “Tch- such tedious tasks are meant for humans. How about you count instead?”
You balk, “Pardon, master?”
“Count, little human.” And without a single warning, his fourth hand snakes underneath your flapping kimono- between those sopping pussylips and squeezing at your poor clit. “Your master orders you to count.”
And the only thing you can possibly do is let your eyes shutter at the pleasure, lips trembling as Sukuna’s second tongue finds its mazin’ way across your walls. As you’re struggling to get a single word out, however, at least the ruthless sorcerer slooooows his pace down to something more languid- making sure you feel every bump and vein.
Every quirk.
Every inch.
Until finally you’re throwing your head behind and vocalizing—after only a few sloppy strikes. “T-two…”
“Heh…interesting.” One of those gnarled hands clasped onto your sides reaches upwards n’ grabs onto your pretty face, smushin’ those cheeks together as he stares deeply into your eyes. Sukuna takes in your dazed peripherals, your spit-glossed lips - the way you looked completely and utterly gone on his tongue, and yet…still managed to answer his question.
Mere mortals never did manage to surprise him anymore. You, however…
Before even he knows what he’s doing, Ryomen Sukuna leans inwards and spits between your gaped maw. Rushing to then kiss you with his own lips - eyes widened, mouth hungry. He looks bewildered himself, as his cursed mouth continues rubbin’ your pussy raw—“It seems we have a feisty little human on our hands.” Three out of four hands groping at your sides and making you ride him-
You’re trembling.
“And yet, who told you to cease your counting?”
Thwack!
“Three—” You cry out. Expectedly, Sukuna was mean—that fourth n’ final hand of his plasters his knobbly fingertips against your sensitive nub. Spanking you hard enough to see stars.
But Sukuna only grins, “Incorrect.”
Yet another spank. Yet another brush of his cursed tongue inwards- and you swear that you’re starting to hear his second mouth start to snicker to himself. Was that even possible?
Were you even thinking? Were you even breathing?
It doesn’t take his keen eyes long to realize that he’s left you completely and utterly stupid on his tongue—just so luscious and lewd. Spreadin’ apart your puffy folds and funneling your insides with him, “Four- four—”
“Correct.” Just to tease you, those fingers of his leave another rude spank.
And Sukuna doesn’t bother letting you gather your bearings before he’s delving even deeper.
“F-five…” You’re trembling out as you feel the massaging texture of his tastebuds enter, they’re pokin’ into spots you hadn’t even realized you had - filling out your tight channel and leaving his shape molded straight into your cunt. “And is that…ngh- six?”
“That was seven.” He rumbles out in a smug tone.
Your jaw drops as you register the massive number - seven inches of his cursed tongue fucking your pussy. And yet it still doesn’t seem as though he’s planning to stop anytime soon…
Back arched, you’re keeping your hands on top of Sukuna’s broad shoulders. Nails digging into his deltoids. And with all the strength that you could muster, you’re attempting to riiiiiide your hips back down onto his—grinding in figure-eight motions.
Sukuna was already manhandling you down onto him - now it might just be your turn to control the cadence. To control how much of him went inside you.
“J-just fuck me already—” You’re pleading. Your jaw drops with a parched whimper, hips veering down harder and harder- “Ngh- that was eight. Nine. Just fuck me- all of me.”
Sukuna’s eyes widen in slight surprise- before he’s quickly catching himself and tightening the two hands at your waist. “Now now…easy there. Go too fast for a little human, and yer going to hurt yourself.”
“But I need it.” Lip jutting out in the cutest damn pout, “I need you inside me, Kuna.”
His breath catches, “Repeat what you just uttered.”
Back bending into the most delicious curve, pushing up against his sweaty pecs. You’re sobbing out as his stomach mouth gapes even wider n’ seemed to push in even more, more, moooore of his sultry inches—“N-nine and a half…? I need you inside-”
“Not that-” Smacking your clit once more. “-you insolent brat.” The tip of his tastebuds reach the very back of your pussy, and it’s a sensation you just can’t describe. “That…title. I command you to hah, repeat it.”
“Title?”
Thwack!
“Repeat it.”
And it’s taking everything and anything in you - in your utterly cockdrunken mind - to conjure up the faintest inkling about what Sukuna was talking about. To let your head throw back with a final primal cry—for the first time since he’d started fucking you with his stomach mouth, you’re finally feeling your ass cheeks seat down properly on top of his washboard abs.
And then you’re finding yourself in his strong arms, your moans muffled into his actual mouth. “T-ten.” Gasping through the constant drool n’ sounds of pleasure clogging up your throat, “That’s ten, Kuna—”
And there it was.
Theeeeeere it was - in more ways than one.
Ryomen Sukuna’s getting to hear that sultry nickname fall from your mouth once more - for some inexplicable reason leaving the tips of his ears feeling warm - and he’s getting to see you complete his command.
Ten entire inches of his cursed second tongue- lickin’ away every trace of sap at your inner thighs, before he’s pushing it all the way inwards. Inwards and inwards. The maw slashed across his stomach grins as he’s hitting the very back of your pussy-
And before you know it, the King is tugging you into his arms.
He kisses your mouth sloppily while his second tongue continues fucking you between your legs. Harder by the minute.
Sukuna grunts as he opens his mouth wiiiiide n’ slips his tongue between your jaw- “Suck on my tongue.” He’s echoing out in a hollow tone.
And you can do nothing but squeeze your glossy lips together—eagerly suckling on his tongue. You’re unsure whether it was from your lavish dinner prior or whether it’s just how hazy your brain is, but you’re finding him to taste almost…sweet.
And your eyes roll to the back of your head as you do so-
“Heh-” Sukuna manages to pant out between kisses, open-mouthed and hot. “Now both pairs of pretty lips are sucking on my tongue.”
And your jaw…drops- only for him to use the opportunity to kiss you even deeper.
Making you ride his stomach mouth whilst he kisses you stupid - his tongue probing inwards, inwards, inwards in looooong slick thrusts. Scrapin’ every orifice inside but especially bending around to hit your g-spot.
You’re sure your body jolts as you feel the sudden zaps of charged pleasure, setting your body positively alight. “I-I’m so close, master.” You pout, “I must- hah- cum.”
“Must, hm?” Sukuna mutters - almost to himself. “And am I to believe that my human deserves to cum? Am I to believe that she is ready to take both my cocks?”
Nodding fervently, “Y-yes—yes, please-”
“Am I to believe that she will have no trouble taking me down to the very womb?”
“Yes-”
Crimson eyes narrow, “I will not slow down, needy human. Am I to believe that-”
“Yes-” Just so gone on your impending high. So close.
And to your surprise, the King merely chuckles as you’re interrupting him - had this been anyone else, then they would have found themselves being made an example of. But you…you’re finding yourself jerked almost aggressively upwards as he bucks his hips, more to run the ridges of his cursed tastebuds along the interior of your walls. Harder. Faster.
You hurtle straight into your high at an incredible pace-
“If you had let your King finish…” It’s the last thing you’re hearing before the pleasure overtakes you - Sukuna’s rumbling tone. “-then perhaps you would have known my question was whether I’m to believe you shall give me an heir in my name.”
His question was going to be whether you’d give him an heir.
His question was going to be whether you’d give him an heir.
But you’re unable to articulate anything more than a few whimpers n’ grunts - because the waves of your orgasm that overtake you are enough to leave you numb. Enough to leave you babbling. Enough to leave you shaking on top of Sukuna’s toned body as he shovels his fat tongue in and out.
In and out. In and out.
The way his overlarge tongue curved was just perfect for hittin’ every spot, and you’re feeling him time out your peaks perfectly—knowing juuust when the surges of your dopamine were at their highest.
Just then, he’d slam! his flattened tastebuds onto the exact spot of your nerves. Fingers nothing but a dizzying blur between your legs as he rolls his thumb over your clit, “Gonna take my t-tongue-” Sukuna spits between honed canines, “Gonna take my cocks then- gonna take my seed.”
“Sh-shiiiiit—” You yowl, “It feels so good, Kuna-”
“That’s ‘master’ to you.” He scoffs, nose sliding down the column of your throat. Sukuna takes one more look at the way you’re swallowing him up - at the way you grind deeper to stuff his glistening muscle between your pussylips, and shivers. “Or…consider yourself lucky to be shown mercy this time, human. Say thank you.”
“Thank you, Kuna.”
“Tch-”
And with that said, it’s not long before you’re completely and utterly fucked through your orgasm by the mouth on his stomach—through every tiny shred n’ ounce of pleasure.
Once Sukuna feels your quiverin’ pussy finish, he’s pulling out of you with the most lecherous squelch! Letting your thighs drape limply around his waist for a few seconds- that’s as long as the King can manage before he’s sitting up on the futon and flipping the two of you around.
So that your back was against the mattress. So that your head was hitting the pillows.
Sukuna crawls his massive figure down the length of your body- four arms pinning back your slick-sheened legs as he pushes his head between them. He’s wasting no time before digging his larger-than-mortal nose between your sodden pussylips and giving your cunt a good liiiiiiiiick of his actual tongue - this time tasting you with his actual mouth.
“Shit—” You’re surging up from your comfortable position, sparks sizzling in your brain. “A-again, Kuna?”
“Your master never had his fill.”
And with that said, he’s lavishin’ your pussy with countless long licks and dribbles. Lips glued to your folds. Breathing through his nose. Sukuna darts his tongue out - thick, though definitely not to the extent of his stomach mouth’s - and zig-zags it across your entrance.
Easing his wet muscle inside—inside and inside. He’s scourin’ every inch of your walls as though to check every mark he’s made before. Just so tender.
The velvety inches of his tastebuds flickering in and out- five inches long, you’re realizing automatically. Far longer than a normal human’s.
And it just drives you insane.
The edges of his fangs nip either side of your entrance - Sukuna had already left you so raw with his cursed tongue prior, so now it’s only taking a few seconds before he’s getting you to spray your orgasmic juices all over his mouth once more—“K-Kuna, I’m close.”
He hums at the feeling of your trembling fingers weaving into his pink hair, “Close? Stupid brat, you’re already cumming.”
The wetness of your cunt spills down his chin.
And Sukuna’s dragging his tongue iiiiiiiiiiiin and out at a constant, sloppy pace to get you through your high. To elongate it. Curving the pointed tip of his tongue against your g-spot - he holds it there for a few seconds just to feel you shake n’ clench around him.
Before he’s breathing through his nostrils and starting to synchronize your peaks with the slashes of his tongue. “Mhmmmm—” He moans out sultry vibrations, they send shockwaves up your spine. “Yes- fuck, yes. I believe this pussy is ready for me.”
Raging through you hard and fast - he doesn’t have much time before your legs start to twitch cutely with overstimulation. Tears sheening down your face. Your jaw unfastened with the most sinful noises.
Sukuna’s prominent nose pushes up against your clit and you’re crying out—
Looking up at you with hungry, half-lidded eyes. “I believe this pussy is ready to be my queen.”
With the pins and needles of your last two orgasms still coursing through your body, it’s nothing but a blur to you as Sukuna hovers his large body over yours once more. And it’s as if one second you’re blinking up into his handsome face, and in the next—you’re finding him laid back against the mattress- and you laid back against him.
Your head rests against his collarbone. Your back was arched against his stomach mouth.
Your legs were dangling off somewhere around his lower half- until Sukuna reaches two of his powerful arms down to position you properly. First, he’s grabbing either side of your waist and aligning you with where his clothed erections were—then he’s spreading your legs wiiiiiiide open.
Finally, he’s cupping his clawed hands underneath your thighs and pulling them up, up, up, upwards—until they were stretched out almost beyond your ears. And Sukuna was just basking proudly in this rude full nelson that he’d manhandled you into.
Gruff laugh echoing by the side of your ear, “And now…” In the corner of your teary peripherals, you’re seeing his other two arms bend to your lower half. “-to check for myself whether this pussy can really follow orders…”
Your kimono was already an utter mess- and Sukuna doesn’t have to do much to have it bunched around your naked hips. Your cunt all glistening with slick n’ saliva from earlier—hissing at the heated air that’s hitting you. “Shit…I need you so badly, master.”
“Then I expect you to take every inch.” He replies ominously. Just then, his eager fingers drop to the hemline of his pants. “I expect you to take every drop-”
And he’s tugging.
Only for your jaw to fall—
Because Ryomen Sukuna wasn’t just huge - you’d already expected as much, given his height and other physical prowess. But he was just staggering.
Just like the rest of him, there was double the number of appendages as there would be on a normal human. Two achingly-hard cocks stacked on top of each other. Inches upon inches. Despite your counting challenge earlier, you’re having trouble registering the sheer lengths that he could possibly be - ten…no….twelve? Perhaps even longer. Though you’re noticing that the upper one was just the slightest bit longer than the other.
Both just as girthy.
Round and reddened. The plump, puckered tips upon their ends throbbed with carnal desire- oozing out generous helpings of milky-white precum that dribble down the front of your cunt. It mixes with the mess already made before, and leaves your thighs sticky with need.
Heavy ballsack twitching underneath his second shaft. So many veins that you lose count.
“K-Kuna—” You’re whimpering as he starts to rub the shafts of his two cocks between your swollen pussylips. Pushin’ them apart and making space for his ruthless girths instead, “Want it inside, Kuna- hck! I really crave you inside me…”
“Oh, little human…” He coos from above. Larger face craning down next to yours, “Did you really believe that I was hesitating? That I was waiting for you?”
“I suppose…”
“Here’s where you are mistaken, my puny thing.” Sukuna trundles, and you don’t have to look behind to know that his sharp fangs were making an appearance. “I am no kindred man.”
A shiver runs down your spine.
And before you can open your mouth to ask what exactly he meant—his rounded tips press against your wettened crevice. Just the sweetest dual pecks, they’re letting out harsh slurps! as he starts to slip around your needy hole. “I wasn’t waiting for your body to get ready, as you so might have believed.”
“Th-then—?” You sob.
“I was waiting…” Your body bucks down into his, your hands reach up to grab at his pinkish locks and-
And your dagger slips out.
His voice grows excited. “I was waiting-” Both of you reach for it at the same time, Sukuna with his four arms and you with your two. Your heart stutters- your hand closes around the thick, metallic hilt—“…for a distraction.”
Several things are happening at once: for one, Sukuna finally forgoes teasin’ at your readied hole to instead scour his cocks inside - fucking in with a long, hard thrust. Deeeeeeeply pressing against your cervix—it feels as though he’s splitting you sensually from the inside out, and you’ve never felt anything better.
And then you’re closing your fingers around the blade - tight - and aiming behind you to press the sharpened edge of it against his throat.
You knew you’d struck your target. Especially when you feel the dagger tremble as he chuckles- chuckles. The King of Curses has the audacity to chuckle.
When you have a weapon to his throat.
You’re unsure whether it was overconfidence or something else entirely- but his hips don’t falter for a single second as he rams his swabbin’ tips thoroughly inwards—thumping away at the back of your pussy. Your ears sizzle with the slamming impact of skin-on-skin, “And so?” He mutters to you, “For what reason do you stall? Do it.”
You grit your teeth, blade pressing against his sunkissed skin until a bead of crimson peppers out. “Do you believe that I am too cowardly to do so?”
“Forbid the thought.” Sukuna hums, “A King assassinated by his favorite concubine? How romantic. I merely implore you to hasten-”
“I shall—”
“So do it.”
“Do not regret-”
“Do it.”
In fact, he leans in even closer as though to help you.
He’s fucking you deep from the rounded orifice of your cunt, to the very depths of your womb. Pulse thundering inside - until it felt like he was taking over every single part of you—until your teeth were set on edge, and the thud-thud-thudding of his matching cocktips was all that you could think of.
Your hand trembles around the hilt.
Your lips wobble with emotion.
Your eyes lock deeply with Sukuna’s own hellishly crimson ones, and-
And the dagger falls gently onto the cotton futon.
Sukuna’s body ripples with a sensation that could’ve been anything from pleasure, to victory, to utter glee—but most of all, his tone just sounded awed.
“I knew there was something special about you, woman.”
And then you’re being crushed in Sukuna’s arms as far back as you would go - as high as your legs could reach above your head, as curvaceously as your spine could bend against his core. He’s manhandling you like nothing but a ragdoll above him—plastered to his muscular back, you’re at the mercy of his vicious thrust after thrust.
The stretch was just incredible.
The stretch was like nothing you’ve ever felt before.
Two thick, loooooooong shafts that were mazin’ between your sopping pussylips- the rounded edges of their cockheads manage to swerve your tight walls apart. Jostling against one another. Throbbing in synchronization inside you - ba-dump! Ba-dump! Ba-dump! Scraping his thumping veins inside and reaching aaaall across every nook, orifice, and cranny. Just so big.
Sukuna himself grunts out in pleasure as his cocks manage to press through the slight resistance you still maintained - his cursed tongue had stretched you out incredibly, and he’s groaning out in pleasure as his cocks manage to slide against one another and then against you- “And now- hah, and now I believe you remember what you promised me?”
“Promised?” Your lashes flutter open, “I-I’m afraid…”
“You promised me an heir.”
Your maw droops open. Your heart starts to race.
Your cunt’s drooling out your arousal at the prospect faster than you could register it- and Sukuna feels the sploshin’ leaks around his thickened bases. His grin stretches as he takes in your unspoken reaction, and before you know it—both sliding cocks are knocking at the door to your very womb-
“And I’m not Ryomen Sukuna if I don’t fuck one into you tonight, brat.”
Rough thrusts. Crushing you in his big, beefy arms.
Closer and closer. Tighter and tighter.
If you thought that you’d been treated like a ragdoll earlier- then you’d been lucky. Because now you’re pressed between his bulging biceps and his pecs, sweat covering both your bodies in a thin sheen as your movements grow more and more fervent—“Fuck a- hah, fuck my heir into you.” Sukuna was barely speaking by now - short, rasping bursts. “Fuck you so big and fuuuuuuuull.”
Running two hands down your front—“Master, I have doubts that it gets much more full than this.”
And he lets out what almost sounds like a guffaw, “It can.”
“Wh-what do you mean- oh.”
And all this time, you’d been damn thankful that Sukuna had chosen to stretch you out on his oversized tongue first—how else would you have fit him so easily? Softenin’ up the snug exterior of your channel. Mapping out your sweetest spots.
Because it just made it even easier to slip inside—it just made it sooooo much more convenient for his dual tips to probe open your wet cunt. Inching and easing.
But then you’re starting to feel a third intrusion.
Then you’re starting to feel his needy tongue once more.
You’re gasping-
The slightest, smallest ticklish sensation of…none other than his cursed mouth dragging down the inner sorts of your thighs. Just teasing. Just the roughened ridges of his tastebuds, long enough that he can snake them down and flatten them over that soft skin beside your cunt.
And in a matter of mere moments, Sukuna’s rugged hands settle deeper against your skin. Tight. Tough. He’s double-checking to make sure that your restless hips couldn’t skin away- before reeling his hips back and penetrating you in longer, harder ruts—each rude slammin’ of his cocks accompanied by the soothing laps of his cursed tongue.
“Y-yet again—?” You’re blabbering out stupidly. Tears falling in big, bulbous beads down either of your cheeks and ending up smeared, “Kuna-”
“Mhmmmm.” He hums out - and you could almost hear the smugness in it. The way his piercing canines make an appearance as he says, “It’s for your own good, brat.” One of his hands lifts off of your sweat-covered body - folded like a lawnchair - and Sukuna runs it down your middle.
He stops right above where both his swabbin’ cocks and his tongue had started to form a tiny bulge at your stomach—“S-sensitive-”
“Exactly.” He sounds so content with himself. So damn content.
Those handsome lips - both pairs of them - quirk further upwards as he’s massaging the front of your stomach—particularly over that one spot where you’re stuffed till you’re bloated. Pressing down-down-dooooown- “And how shall this puny human body handle carrying my heir, hm?” He growls as he accelerates his ruts, “How?”
Mouth sobbing open in answer.
You're gripping onto either side of his muscular body and swervin’ your hips in response- unsure whether you wanted to rut back down for more or just…
“Running away?” Sukuna's dangerous trundle sounds from behind you, and the clasp he has on your shuddering body only grows stronger. Before you know it, you’re being manhandled like nothing but his favorite toy and shoved right back onto his twin erections-
He continues, “If you can’t handle two of my cocks—” They’re emptying out at the bottom of your pussy with two distinct thuds! The top one first, and then the squeezin’ of the latter. “If you can’t even handle my tongue…the babies of my lineage tend to be large.”
Palm pressing down on your stomach.
“Does this pretty womb have enough space?”
And there’s nothing more for you to do but throw your head backwards and buck up into his awaiting arms. He’s only seeming to crush you even deeper against his toned body, “It does-”
“What was that?” One pink brow raises.
“I s-said it does—it does.” You’re blabbering away, thighs attempting to wrangle downwards so that you can steady yourself. But the only thing that’s succeeding in doing is making Sukuna tighten his restraint on you maddeningly - “I can fit even more of you- hngh, I can fit your…”
He grins- and this time it’s his second mouth that hisses demandingly at you. “Say it.”
“Heir in here…” And if this was any other time - if you’d been in any clearer of a state of mind - you wouldn’t have said such embarrassing words in your lifetime. And yet, here you were—bouncin’ down welcomingly into Sukuna’s largely gaped maw. “I want it, Kuna.”
“Heh?” He grins, “Then brace yourself.”
And it’s the only warning you’re getting - honestly, you’re surprised to realize that he’d given you any at all.
Because in the next few seconds- his cursed mouth goes from lappin’ away at the sweet, sweet juices coating the edges of your cunt—to slithering between those puffy pussylips of yours and attempting to devour your pussy whole again.
Two arms laced behind your clammy scalp. Two more arms reaching down to toy with your overstimulated pussy.
“O-oh gods-” Hiccuping through your tears as you start to feel the pleasurable burn of your pussylips stretchin’ once more.
Wider and wider.
Deeper and deeper.
In, in, and in—
Sukuna's second mouth tenderly whips apart your wet walls—with the most lecherous squeeeelch! he's then attempting to stroke his tongue inwards between the thrusts of his dual cocks. Sharp, stabbing thrusts. Just to fit inside.
Three- three of his sinful appendages attempting to stuff you all full - you're losing your mind already with his throbbing cocks, but now Sukuna's tongue was a different sort of texture altogether that was just leaving you on the verge of-
“You can cum.” The King sputters out against your temple, lips moving what seems like a mile a minute. “But you have to remember to reward me with a strong heir after, hm?” Tap-tapping at the tummy bulge he was fucking into you, “Hafta give me one with my powers. Hafta give me one that- hngh, I can train into the strongest. Hafta give me one with- haaaah…” He breathes out laboriously, “-that smile.”
Your eyes shoot open as you’re registering exactly what he’s uttered, “Kuna…fuck, it feels so good.”
“Please…” And it might just be the first time that you’ve witnessed the infamous Ryomen Sukuna utter a word of plea since you’ve met him. That chiselled cheek of his nuzzles down the side of your temple, “-call me your husband.”
Oh.
Oh.
You’re barely even given enough time to let the entire ordeal sink of having him inside you sink in- before the wooden panels beneath the futon creeeeeeak—! And Sukuna’s arching his hips fully off of the dampened mattress, entering his entire greedy lengths into your pussy.
Again and again.
Reeling back until it was only the plump, glossy tips kissin’ at your entrance - before drag-drag-dragging his pulsating length inwards. In-between he just barely manages to squeeze his textured tongue inside.
Repeating once. Twice. Thrice. So many times that you’ve lost count, and you’re barely in control of your own ministrations as a third hand stuffs between your pussylips and squeezes your neglected clit.
And then your overstimulation’s hitting you all at once. All at once.
And Sukuna realizes it before you do- when you’re shivering primally on top of him and cumming once more. Around his cocks. Around his mouth. It’s such a white-hot pleasure that bursts stars behind your eyelids, creating heat at the tips of your toes and then sending it searing through every vessel within you- your body shakes in his hold as the dopamine courses right through you.
His lips crack into a chuckle, and he’s cooing softly down at you as he ruts his hips even harder—fucking you through every peak. “Theeeeeere, there…” Something almost sweet- though you know better than to expect sweet from Ryomen Sukuna. “My poor human couldn’t handle it?”
“I-I can…” You’re arguing back- even though your answer sounds like nothing but a jumbled mess of syllables. The sheer force of the high that wracks through you is enough to make your head spin, thighs shake—fucked up, up, and up by his never-ending hips.
And he can only smile, “Is that so…? Then perhaps my fierce concubine won’t mind if I just—speed up a little bit.”
Even more?
Your mouth drops as you’re perhaps getting ready to beg for mercy- before even the choked-up syllables at your throat start getting fucked back down by his roverin’ tips.
Rubbing their flared ridges across every spot of your insides, dribblin’ out gooey precum into the smallest nooks and crannies. You’re feeling the sultry slickness of it puddling up deep inside you, and it’s almost enough to send you raging right into another high-
“K-Kuna—!” Your voice cracks.
“I know, heh.” He snickers, deep and hoarse. “I can feel this pussy begging even more f’me.” A few more vicious strokes and you’re feeling another faint arc of pleasure that you’re sure must be your nth high of the night.
Hard and fast.
Hitting through every one of your bundled nerves- but especially that g-spot he’d bruised by now. Two large circular marks in the exact shape and circumference of his bludgeoning tips - they were slapping at two separate times—one after the other. Ba-dump! Ba-dump!
Except…this time, Sukuna’s own thickened cocks twitch inside of you as you’re clenchin’ through your high-
“And don’t you worry, brat…” He growls from behind, “This time, your husband’s not too far behind—”
Your eyes flutter open in pure shock- and one of his hands reaches down to tilt your chin to look at him. “Shit-”
“Say it f’me.” Sukuna rasps, “Say it- call me your husband while I cum inside.”
And who were you to deny an order from the King himself?
The words are barely escaping your lips—“C-cum inside me, husband…”
Before the strongest sorcerer in history throws his head back and jerks his hips upwards- letting the pouring wads of his cum plug your pussy up twofold. What’s better than one of his cocks seeping deeply at your innards? Two of them…There are so many gooey wads of it trickling all deeeeep inside- splashin’ against the spongy layer of your cervix. Swashing down your tight channel.
You’re shuddering as you feel the delicious sensation of him sprayin’ inside you - a sheer volume that ends up frothin’ in-between your legs. A circle of white forms around both of Sukuna’s thick bases. “There we go-” He snarls. “There- there, we go…”
“Shit—it feels so, ngh…” You don’t even have the words. Your body quakes as his ridged tastebuds start tickling the outer parts of your pussy. Long, luscious licks - it’s enough to make you cum again.
“And this baby shall become my heir.” Sukuna whispers - mostly to himself than anything. He runs a hand down the sweat front of your body, left ever-so-slightly more inflated with his constantly-pumping cum. “This baby shall be taught to become the strongest. This baby shall be- hah, feared amongst the nation’s lands and beyond…” His fanged smile grows, “Known by my name, I shall teach this baby to protect its mother with their life.”
The fatness of his tongue dips between your swollen pussylips- lapping again and again. He’s torn between drinkin’ up and pushing back the pearly white beads of cum that kept on leaking from you.
And you’re merely draped limply over his front. Crushed to his powerful body.
“And this baby’s gonna become the most precious thing in this- hah, estate…” You feel him press a kiss to your temple, “-alongside you, of course, Your Majesty.”
“Majesty…?”
“The Queen of Curses.”
For who could’ve tamed the infamous Ryomen Sukuna?
In no time, he’s finally fucked himself into your pussy through his high- and it’s a tangled mess of limbs and moans as Sukuna attempts to pull out. Before realizing that his cocks were probed in too deeply, before realizing that that would mean letting his pool of cum spread out of your cunt.
Losing all his hard work.
And so he sniffs haughtily, reaching one pair of his hands up into the air and clicking-
In a split-second, you’re finding your back against the pillows. As if in a dream, you’re blinking up to stare into Sukuna’s handsome face—two hands braced upon either side of your head, both cocks still shovelled deeply inside of you. Throbbing. Did he just…did he just use his powers to change-
“Yes.” He answers your unspoken question- of perhaps it had been spoken, you’re too drunk on his cocks to realize whether or not you’d blabbered it out loud. “I call it…teleporting.”
“Th-that should be outlawed-” You’re gasping. The air around you felt tightened with what you assumed must be his cursed energy - you’d heard the stories about them. Who didn’t?
And he merely hums, “I am the law, woman.”
Without another word, one of his four hands snake between your legs- his cursed second mouth had finished up lappin’ at the coat of cum around your thighs. And he licks his lips and belches almost gluttonously once Sukuna reaches down to cup your pussy and—
“O-oh.” Something buzzes between your overstimulated legs.
Almost as soon as it’d started, it’s over- and Sukuna pulls his hand away—and then his rugged cocks. Letting out the most lecherous sluuuuurp! as he’s reeling his hips away, rounded tips funnel out from between your pussylips and leaving such a-
Wait…your eyes widen. There was no mess - whatever technique that Sukuna had collected between your legs stopped his cum from leaking out.
And the King of Curses wastes no time waiting for your surprise to register- not before letting out a deep snicker. He straightens his bulky body n’ edges himself closer—and before you know it, you’re suddenly finding your head straddled by Sukuna’s meaty thighs.
His dual, furiously-hot erections slapping their shafts down onto your readied face.
Both fanged mouths grin, “Now…open, human.”
And you just knew he was about to make you take both.
synopsis: You ran from your arranged marriage in a torn white wedding dress, desperate to escape the cruel lord your family sold you to. By midnight, you’re on your knees in front of the village butcher, begging for shelter.
Toji Fushiguro doesn’t help runaways.
But when you blurt out that he’s your husband in front of the biggest gossips in town, suddenly the whole village believes you’re his. Now you’re trapped in a fake marriage with the terrifying butcher — a massive, rough, possessive man who has decided that if you’re going to call yourself his wife… he’s going to make it very, very real.
pairing: butcher!toji fushiguro x runaway bride!reader
mdni | warnings: smut, first time, size kink, breeding kink, creampie, cum play, rough sex, possessive/jealous Toji, dirty talk, spanking, manhandling, strength kink, overstimulation, oral (f receiving), fingering, spitting, multiple orgasms, multiple positions, fake marriage
word count: 14.8k
a/n: im kinda obsessed with this ngl... also lmk if your enjoying these longer fics!
The great hall of your family estate felt more like a tomb than a place of celebration.
Thick beams of dark oak loomed overhead, and the air was heavy with the greasy smell of over-roasted venison, spilled sour wine, and your father’s desperation. Two massive iron chandeliers flickered with dying candles, casting long, distorted shadows that danced across the walls. Servants had long since been dismissed, leaving only the three of you: your father, Lord Kato, and you — the silent prize being traded away.
Your father slumped in his carved high-backed chair, cheeks bloated and flushed deep red from too much drink. His once-fine tunic was stained with grease and wine. With a trembling hand, he slid the sealed parchment across the table. The wax bore your family’s broken crest.
“She’s untouched,” he slurred, trying and failing to sound proud. “Barely nineteen summers. Fertile. She’ll give you strong sons, I swear it. Obedient when properly disciplined. This marriage settles every debt between our houses — the gold, the eastern lands, the failed harvests… all of it wiped clean.”
Lord Kato sat across from him like a spider in human skin. Tall and unnaturally pale, with sharp cheekbones and eyes the color of frozen ink. His lips curled into a thin, cruel smile as he let his gaze crawl over your body without shame. He studied the swell of your breasts beneath your gown, the narrow dip of your waist, the way your hands clenched into fists at your sides. The way you trembled.
He took a slow sip of wine, then spoke, voice smooth and cold as winter steel.
“She’ll do nicely. The ceremony will take place tomorrow night at my estate. I expect her delivered in the finest white lace and silk… and nothing beneath it.” His smile widened, revealing teeth that seemed too sharp. “I want easy access the moment the guests leave. I’ve waited long enough for my new bride.”
You stood motionless in the center of the hall, heart pounding so violently you could hear it in your ears. Your skin crawled as if his eyes were already peeling the gown from your body. Nausea twisted in your stomach. This man had already buried three wives. Whispers spoke of bruises, broken bones, and screams that echoed through his halls at night. And now your own father was selling you to him for coin and land.
No one asked if you agreed.
No one asked what you wanted.
No one ever had.
You kept your face blank, eyes lowered like the obedient daughter they expected, while inside your mind screamed.
Later that night, when the household finally fell into drunken slumber and the torches burned low, you moved.
You had planned this in secret for weeks. A plain dark wool cloak stolen from the stables. A small bundle of hard bread, dried cheese, and a waterskin. Soft leather shoes you hoped would last. But the most valuable thing you owned was the wedding gown itself. You had decided to wear the half-finished white dress during your escape — the expensive satin and delicate lace might fetch enough coins in a distant village to buy you passage far away from here. It was risky, but you had nothing else of real value.
You slipped out through the narrow servant’s entrance at the back of the kitchens, the heavy door groaning softly behind you like a warning. The moment your feet touched the cold, dew-soaked grass, terror and fragile hope surged through you in equal measure.
You ran.
The forest swallowed you whole.
Ancient trees loomed like silent judges, their branches clawing at your white gown as if trying to drag you back. The delicate satin — still only half-finished, with pins and loose threads — snagged mercilessly on thorns. You heard fabric tearing again and again: sharp rips that sounded far too loud in the darkness. The long lace veil caught on a low limb and nearly yanked you off your feet; you tore it free with shaking hands, leaving half of it fluttering behind you like a surrendered flag. Mud and wet leaves caked your bare feet. Sharp stones and roots sliced into your soles until every step left bloody prints in the dirt. The cold night air burned your lungs. Sweat soaked your back and chest despite the chill, making the torn gown cling obscenely to your skin. Your legs screamed with exhaustion after only an hour, but fear kept you moving. Behind you, distant shouts echoed through the trees — your father’s guards, torches flickering like angry fireflies. Dogs barked. They were coming.
You pushed harder.
Branches whipped your face, leaving stinging cuts across your cheeks. Your hair fell loose from its elegant pins, wild and tangled. Tears streamed down your face, mixing with blood and dirt. Every shadow looked like a man ready to grab you. Every snap of a twig made your heart seize. You ran until your vision blurred and your chest felt like it would burst. You ran until the shouts grew fainter and the trees finally began to thin.
Hours had passed. The moon hung high and merciless overhead, bathing the world in cold silver light. Your legs trembled violently as you stumbled out of the treeline onto a wide, muddy road. In the distance, warm golden lantern light glowed between clusters of simple wooden buildings. A village.
You nearly collapsed with relief.
The main street was deserted, shutters closed tight against the night. Only one building still showed signs of life. Warm light spilled from its open front door onto the dirt road, carrying with it the thick, metallic scent of fresh blood and raw meat. A weathered wooden sign creaked overhead in the cold breeze:
Fushiguro Meat Co.
You limped toward it, every cut and bruise screaming.
A massive man stood under the wooden awning, illuminated by the lantern light. He was enormous — broad as a barn door, easily over six feet tall, with shoulders and arms so thick with muscle they looked carved from stone. He wore a blood-streaked leather apron tied low on his narrow hips. Beneath it, a simple white tank clung to his sweat-slicked chest, the thin fabric molded to heavy slabs of muscle and dark, scattered scars. His black hair was damp and messy, strands falling across his forehead. A deep, jagged scar twisted the corner of his mouth, giving his face a permanent, dangerous smirk even when he wasn’t smiling.
Thick veins stood out on his forearms as he slowly wiped a long, wicked boning knife clean on the edge of his apron. The blade gleamed.
He looked like violence given human shape — raw, brutal, and utterly terrifying.
You didn’t know his name. You didn’t know anything about him except that he was the only soul still awake, and you were completely out of options.
Your legs gave out the final few steps. You dropped hard to your knees in the cold dirt right in front of him, the torn white satin of your ruined wedding gown pooling around you like spilled milk mixed with blood and mud. Your chest heaved. Fresh tears cut clean tracks down your filthy cheeks.
“Please—” Your voice came out cracked and hoarse, barely more than a whisper. “Hide me. Just for one night. My family… they sold me to Lord Kato to settle their debts. He’s going to break me. Hurt me in ways I can’t even speak of. I’ll do anything you ask — scrub floors until my hands bleed, haul carcasses, sleep in the cold room with the meat, be your servant, your cleaner… anything. Just please… don’t let them take me back.”
You bowed your head, trembling, and clutched desperately at the bloody hem of his apron with both hands, staining your fingers red.
The man stopped moving. He looked down at you slowly, sharp green eyes narrowing as they took in every detail: your torn and filthy wedding dress, the cuts on your face and feet, the desperate tears, the way you knelt before him like a supplicant before a god of slaughter.
He flicked the long knife shut with a loud, metallic click that echoed in the quiet street.
“Not my problem, princess,” he rumbled. His voice was deep, low, and rough — like gravel being dragged across stone. There was no pity in it. “I don’t hide runaways. Go beg somewhere else before you bring trouble to my shop.”
You stayed on your knees, fingers still twisted tight in the bloody hem of his apron. Tears kept falling, mixing with the dirt on your cheeks. “Please… I have nowhere else. They’ll find me by morning. Lord Kato will—”
Footsteps. Soft, quick, coming from the narrow alley beside the butcher shop.
Three women emerged into the lantern light, their shawls pulled tight against the night chill, each carrying a small lantern. They stopped short at the sight of you kneeling in your ruined white gown in front of the massive butcher.
“Gods above,” the tallest one gasped. “Is that a wedding dress? Child, what in the world happened to you?”
The women hurried closer, lanterns swinging. Warm golden light spilled over your torn satin, the mud-caked hem, the blood from his apron smeared across your bodice and hands. One of the younger women pressed a hand to her mouth. “She’s bleeding… and look at her feet!”
You looked down at yourself — the once-beautiful dress now filthy and shredded — then up at the stranger towering over you. His green eyes were narrowed in clear irritation, jaw clenched like he was seconds away from shoving you into the street and bolting the door.
A wild, desperate plan came to your mind.
You pushed yourself up on shaky legs, ignoring the sharp pain in your cut feet. Before he could step away, you grabbed his large, calloused hand with both of yours, clinging desperately. His palm was warm, rough, and still faintly sticky with dried blood.
Turning to the three women with the most exhausted yet radiant smile you could force, you announced clearly:
“This is my husband.”
The words rang in the quiet night air.
The women froze.
You kept going, voice trembling but determined. “We were married in secret this evening. My family didn’t approve — they tried to sell me off to a cruel lord to settle their debts. So I ran away through the forest to reach him. The dress… it got ruined on the way, but I’m here now. I’m exactly where I belong.”
Silence stretched for a heartbeat.
Then the women erupted.
“The butcher got married?!” the tallest one exclaimed, eyes wide. “Toji Fushiguro actually took a wife? I never thought I’d live to see the day!”
One of the younger women clapped her hands together, beaming. “Look at her, even all torn up she’s lovely! Brave thing, running through the woods in the middle of the night just to get to her husband.”
The third woman laughed warmly. “We’ll bring fresh bread and some stew first thing in the morning for you newlyweds. Can’t have Toji’s new wife going hungry on her first day here!”
Toji.
So that was his name. Toji Fushiguro.
You felt the man — Toji — stiffen beside you. His massive hand twitched hard in your grip, muscles flexing like he was fighting the urge to rip free and deny everything. His sharp green eyes burned into the side of your face, dark with fury and silent threat. But the women were watching excitedly. The whole village would know the story by sunrise if he contradicted you now.
You squeezed his hand tighter, nails digging into his skin in a silent, desperate plea. Please. Just play along.
Toji’s scarred jaw flexed. A low, dangerous growl rumbled deep in his chest. For one terrifying second you thought he might expose you.
Then, in the flattest, most reluctant voice you had ever heard, he grunted:
“…Yeah. She’s mine now. Wife.”
The women squealed with delight. They offered more congratulations, promised gifts for the “newlyweds,” and finally bustled away down the dark street, lanterns bobbing and their voices already carrying the juicy news.
The moment their footsteps faded, Toji’s grip turned bruising. He yanked you forward so hard you stumbled against his broad, solid chest, then dragged you roughly through the open door of the butcher shop. The heavy oak door slammed shut behind you with a resounding thud that rattled the walls.
Inside, the air was thick and heavy — cold iron, raw meat, woodsmoke, and the faint metallic tang of fresh blood. A single lantern burned low on the wooden counter, casting long, flickering shadows over heavy chopping blocks, hanging meat hooks, and rows of sharp knives.
Toji spun you around and shoved your back against the closed door. One thick, powerful forearm braced beside your head, completely caging you in. His massive body loomed over yours, heat rolling off him in waves. The scent of blood, sweat, and raw masculinity filled your lungs.
His green eyes were dark with fury… and something much darker, much hungrier.
“What the fuck was that?” he snarled, voice low and lethal. “You just told half the goddamn village you’re my wife. You got any idea what you’ve done, little runaway?”
Your heart slammed against your ribs. You could feel the hard press of his chest against yours, the sheer size of him making you feel tiny and trapped.
“It was the only way,” you whispered, breathing fast. “They would’ve dragged me back to Lord Kato by morning if they knew the truth. Now they think I belong to you. No one will question it. Please… just let me stay the night. I’ll disappear at dawn, I swear it.”
Toji stared down at you for a long, heavy moment. His scarred mouth twisted into a slow, dangerous smirk. His free hand came up and gripped your chin firmly, tilting your face up so you had no choice but to meet his intense green eyes.
“Disappear?” he growled, thumb pressing hard into your jaw. “Too late for that, princess. You just tied yourself to me in front of witnesses.”
He leaned in closer, so close his breath ghosted hot across your lips. His voice dropped even lower, rough and full of promise.
“You owe me now. Big time.”
His gaze dragged slowly down your body — over the torn white lace barely clinging to your curves, the bloodstains, the way your chest heaved with fear and adrenaline. He just held you there, pinned against the door, letting the heavy tension coil tighter and tighter between you.
“Upstairs,” he finally ordered, voice like gravel. “Now. We’re gonna have a long talk about what you just got yourself into.”
Toji didn’t give you time to argue.
His massive hand clamped around your upper arm like a steel band and he hauled you away from the door. You stumbled after him on aching, bleeding feet as he dragged you through the back of the shop. The scent of raw meat grew thicker near the cold room, but he turned toward a narrow wooden staircase tucked behind a heavy curtain.
“Move,” he growled when you hesitated at the bottom step.
You climbed. Each step sent fresh pain shooting up your legs, but you bit your lip and kept going. Toji followed close behind, his heavy boots loud on the old wood, one hand still gripping your arm so you couldn’t possibly run.
The stairs opened directly into a small, sparse apartment above the butcher shop. It was surprisingly clean for a man who spent his days covered in blood. A single main room served as both living space and kitchen — a sturdy wooden table with two chairs, a stone hearth with dying embers, a few shelves holding jars of preserved meat and dried herbs. A narrow hallway led to what you assumed were the bedroom and washroom. Moonlight spilled through two small windows, painting everything in cool silver.
Toji kicked the door at the top of the stairs shut behind him and finally released your arm. You immediately backed up a few steps, the torn hem of your wedding dress whispering across the floorboards.
He folded his thick arms across his broad chest, blood-stained apron still tied around his waist, and stared at you like you were a problem he was deciding how to carve up.
“Start talking,” he said flatly. “And don’t leave anything out. Who the fuck are you, why is a lord hunting you, and why the hell did you decide to drag me into your mess?”
You swallowed hard, still catching your breath. You introduced yourself by name, then continued quietly, “My family is in debt. Deep debt. They sold me to Lord Kato yesterday to settle it. He’s a cruel man. Three wives before me, and none of them lasted long. He told my father in front of me what he plans to do on our wedding night.” Your voice cracked. “I couldn’t stay. I ran in the only thing of value I had — this dress. I thought maybe I could sell it in a village for enough coin to disappear.”
Toji’s green eyes flicked over the ruined white lace clinging to your body — torn, muddy, bloodstained. He let out a low, humorless snort.
“And instead of keeping your mouth shut and hiding somewhere quiet, you decided the best plan was to announce to the biggest gossips in the village that you’re married to the local butcher.” He took one heavy step closer. “You realize what you’ve done?”
You nodded quickly. “They won’t hand me over now. Not if they think I belong to you. The whole village will protect the butcher’s wife… right?”
Toji laughed — a short, dark sound that sent a shiver down your spine.
“Protect?” He shook his head. “You just painted a target on my back too, princess. Lord Kato isn’t the type to let his property run off. When he comes looking — and he will come looking — he’s going to hear all about how the village butcher stole his bride.”
He dragged a large hand down his face, clearly pissed off, but there was something else in his expression now. A glint of dark amusement. Maybe even reluctant interest.
“You’re either the bravest idiot I’ve ever met… or the most cunning.”
You stood there trembling in the middle of his living room, arms wrapped around yourself. The torn bodice of the dress had slipped dangerously low on your shoulders, but you didn’t dare fix it.
“I’ll leave at first light,” you promised again, softer this time. “I won’t cause you any more trouble. Just… let me stay until sunrise. Please, Toji.”
Hearing his name from your lips made his eyes narrow.
“Don’t,” he warned. “You don’t get to say my name like we’re actually married.”
He turned away from you and walked over to the small hearth. He crouched down, added two fresh logs, and stoked the fire back to life with practiced efficiency. The warm orange glow slowly filled the room, chasing away some of the chill.
When he stood again, he looked even bigger in the firelight — shoulders impossibly wide, muscles shifting under the thin tank top, the scar at his mouth pulling as he scowled.
“Sit,” he ordered, nodding toward one of the wooden chairs at the table. “You’re bleeding all over my floor.”
You obeyed, lowering yourself carefully onto the chair. The moment you sat, exhaustion crashed into you like a wave. Your feet throbbed. Every cut and bruise ached. You were filthy, terrified, and running on nothing but fear and adrenaline.
Toji disappeared down the short hallway and returned a minute later with a metal basin, a clean rag, and a small jar. He set the basin on the floor in front of you, then dropped into the chair across the table, watching you with those sharp green eyes.
“Clean your feet,” he said gruffly. “I’m not carrying you around if they get infected.”
You dipped the rag into the water and started wiping away the mud and blood as carefully as you could. The silence stretched between you, thick and heavy. The fire crackled. Outside, the village was completely quiet.
Toji leaned back in his chair, arms crossed again, studying you like livestock.
“You really think this marriage story is gonna hold?” he asked after a long minute. “Village folk love to talk. By noon tomorrow everyone’s gonna want to meet my mysterious bride.”
You kept your eyes on your injured feet. “I just need a day or two to figure out where to go next. I can… I can work. I’m not useless. I can clean, cook, help in the shop—”
Toji’s low chuckle cut you off.
“You? Working in a butcher shop?” He shook his head. “You look like you’ve never touched anything bloodier than a sewing needle in your life.”
He watched you struggle to clean a deep cut on your sole for another moment before he made an irritated sound and leaned forward.
“Give me your foot.”
You hesitated.
“Now,” he growled.
You slowly lifted your leg. Toji took your ankle in his huge, rough hand — surprisingly gentle despite the calluses and dried blood on his fingers. He pulled the basin closer and started cleaning your wounds himself with careful, efficient movements.
The contrast was jarring: this terrifying mountain of a man, covered in someone else’s blood, carefully tending to your torn-up feet.
“You’re staying the night,” he said quietly, not looking up from his work. “Not because I’m kind. Because if I throw you out now, those three hens will ask questions I don’t feel like answering. Tomorrow we figure out what the hell to do with you.”
He finished cleaning one foot and moved to the other. His thumb brushed accidentally over a sensitive spot and you hissed softly.
Toji’s eyes flicked up to your face for a second, something unreadable flashing across his expression.
“After that…” He set your foot down carefully and leaned back again, voice dropping into a low, dangerous rumble. “You’re gonna start paying off the trouble you just caused me.”
He didn’t explain what that meant.
But the way he was looking at you — slow, heavy, possessive — made heat crawl up your neck despite the fear.
Toji held your gaze for another long moment before he finally released your ankle. He pushed the basin aside with his boot and stood, towering over you once more. The firelight danced across the hard lines of his face, catching on the jagged scar at the corner of his mouth.
“Stay there,” he muttered.
He disappeared into the back room again. You heard the sound of water splashing, then heavy footsteps returning. When he came back, he carried a thick wool blanket and a tin cup. He set the cup in front of you — it was filled with cool water — and dropped the blanket over the back of your chair.
“Drink,” he ordered. “You look half-dead.”
You obeyed without thinking, your hands still trembling slightly as you lifted the cup. The water was clean and cold, soothing your raw throat. Toji watched you drink the entire thing, arms crossed, before he spoke again.
You lowered the empty cup. “Thank you… for the water. And for cleaning my feet.”
He made a dismissive sound in the back of his throat, like thanks made him uncomfortable. Then he leaned against the edge of the table, close enough that his thigh nearly brushed your arm.
“You really thought this through?” he asked, voice low. “Running in a fancy white dress, announcing yourself as my wife in front of the nosiest women in the village… What’s your actual plan once the sun comes up?”
You stared down at your bandaged feet. “I didn’t have time for a real plan. I just knew I couldn’t let them marry me off to that monster. I thought if I could get far enough away, maybe sell the dress, I could buy passage on a cart or a boat. Start over somewhere no one knows me.”
Toji exhaled through his nose, almost a laugh but darker. “Selling that dress would’ve gotten you robbed or worse before you even reached the next town. You’re lucky you only made it as far as my doorstep.”
Silence settled again, broken only by the crackling fire. You pulled the blanket tighter around your shoulders, suddenly aware of how exposed you still were — the torn bodice of the wedding gown hanging loosely, the lace ripped in several places, dirt and dried blood streaked across your skin.
Toji’s eyes drifted over you again, slower this time. They lingered on the curve of your shoulder where the dress had slipped, the rise and fall of your chest, the way the white fabric clung to your thighs.
“You look ridiculous,” he said bluntly. “Like a bride who lost a fight with a pack of wolves.”
Despite everything, a tiny, tired smile tugged at your lips. “That’s… not far from the truth.”
He pushed off the table and walked over to a wooden chest in the corner. He rummaged inside and pulled out a large, worn linen shirt — clearly one of his. It looked big enough to reach your knees.
“Here.” He tossed it to you. “Can’t have you walking around my place looking like that. Change. There’s a washroom down the hall if you want to clean up more.”
You clutched the shirt to your chest. “Thank you.”
“Don’t thank me yet,” he warned. “You’re still in my house. Still wearing that damn dress that’s going to bring trouble to my door.”
He turned his back to give you a moment of privacy, busying himself by adding another log to the fire. You quickly stood, wincing at the pain in your feet, and slipped behind the partial wall that separated the washroom. You peeled off the ruined wedding dress with shaking hands, letting the torn fabric pool at your feet. The cool air kissed your bare skin as you pulled Toji’s shirt over your head. It smelled faintly of smoke, soap, and something unmistakably masculine. The hem fell halfway down your thighs.
When you stepped back out, Toji turned around. His eyes darkened the moment they landed on you in his shirt.
“Better,” he grunted, though his voice sounded rougher than before.
He gestured toward the narrow hallway. “Bedroom’s at the end. Only one bed. You take it tonight. I’ll sleep out here.”
You hesitated. “I can sleep on the floor. I’ve already caused enough—”
“Don’t argue,” he cut you off. “My house, my rules. Get some sleep. You look like you’re about to fall over.”
You walked carefully down the short hall, every step still painful. The bedroom was small and simple like the rest of the apartment — a large wooden bed with thick blankets, a single chair, and a window overlooking the dark village street. You climbed onto the bed, pulling the covers over yourself.
Toji appeared in the doorway a minute later, leaning one broad shoulder against the frame. The firelight from the main room silhouetted his massive form.
“Door stays open,” he said. “And don’t even think about sneaking out in the middle of the night. If I have to chase you down, I won’t be in a generous mood.”
You nodded, sinking deeper into the mattress. Exhaustion was pulling at you hard now, but sleep still felt far away with him standing there watching you.
“Toji…” you whispered.
He raised an eyebrow.
“Thank you,” you said again, softer. “For not throwing me out.”
His expression didn’t soften, but something in his eyes shifted. He pushed off the doorframe and turned to leave.
“Get some sleep, runaway,” he muttered. “You’re gonna need it.”
He left the door wide open. You heard him moving around in the main room — the creak of the wooden chair as he sat down, the quiet clink of a cup. The fire continued to crackle.
You lay there in his bed, wrapped in his shirt, the weight of everything that had happened pressing down on you. The fake marriage. The village women who now believed you were his wife. Lord Kato still out there searching. And the terrifying, strangely careful butcher who had just tended to your wounds and given you his bed.
Sleep finally claimed you, but even in your dreams you could still feel the heavy weight of Toji’s gaze on your skin.
You woke to the sound of knocking.
It was loud, cheerful, and relentless — three sharp raps on the shop door downstairs, followed by muffled feminine voices. Sunlight streamed through the small bedroom window, warm and golden. For a brief, disoriented moment you forgot where you were. Then everything crashed back: the forest, the blood-stained butcher, the lie you’d told.
You sat up quickly. Toji’s oversized linen shirt had ridden up your thighs during the night. Your feet still ached, but the bandages held firm. You heard heavy footsteps downstairs, then Toji’s low, irritated growl as he opened the door.
“Morning!” a cheerful woman’s voice called up. “We brought breakfast for the newlyweds! Fresh bread, stew, and honey cakes. Don’t tell us you’re still in bed on your wedding night!”
Another woman giggled. “We’re dying to meet your bride properly!”
Toji’s heavy footsteps came up the stairs. He appeared in the bedroom doorway, looking imposing in the daylight. He wore a clean black tunic stretched tight across his chest, the same blood-stained apron tied around his waist. His hair was messy, jaw set with clear annoyance.
“They’re here,” he said flatly. “Three of them. Loaded with food.”
Your stomach twisted. “What do we do?”
Toji’s green eyes dragged over you — bare legs, wearing nothing but his shirt. Something dark flickered across his face.
“You sold us as newlyweds,” he reminded you, voice low. “So act like it. Smile. Look happy. Keep the story straight.”
He stepped closer and tugged the hem of the shirt down your thighs possessively. “There’s a spare skirt and blouse in the chest. Change. Quickly.”
You moved fast, wincing at the pain in your feet. Toji turned his back while you dressed in the simple dark green skirt and cream blouse. They were a little loose but far more practical.
When you were ready, Toji gave you one last look and jerked his head toward the stairs. “Downstairs. Remember — you’re my wife.”
The three women had already let themselves into the front of the shop. They had laid out a generous spread on the wooden counter: warm bread, a pot of hearty stew, honey cakes, and spiced cider. The moment you appeared behind Toji, their faces lit up.
“Oh, here she is!” the tallest, round-faced woman exclaimed. “Look at you, dear. Much better than last night. I’m Mrs. Sato, by the way! My husband runs the bakery just down the street.” She gestured to the other two. “This is Mira and little Hana.”
The younger women smiled warmly.
“You clean up beautifully,” Mira said. “You already have that newlywed glow!”
You felt heat rise in your cheeks. Toji’s large hand settled heavily on your lower back, warm and claiming.
“Thank you,” you said, offering a shy smile. “You’re all so kind. I’m sorry for how I looked last night… the journey through the forest was harder than I expected.”
Mrs. Sato waved her hand. “No apologies needed! Running away from a bad match to be with the man you love? It’s the most romantic thing to happen in this village in years.”
Toji grunted, his thumb slowly stroking your spine. “Wasn’t exactly planned,” he said dryly. “But here we are.”
The women laughed and chattered while you helped serve the food. They asked how you met, how long you’d been secretly courting, and whether you planned to stay in the village. You answered carefully, sticking close to the story. Toji added short, gruff confirmations, never moving far from your side.
Just as the women were gathering their empty baskets to leave, a loud, sharp knock echoed through the shop.
Knock. Knock. Knock.
This knock was different — heavy, authoritative, and impatient.
Toji’s hand tensed on your back. His expression hardened instantly.
Mrs. Sato glanced toward the door, curious. “Are you expecting more visitors already?”
Toji didn’t answer. He moved toward the door, positioning himself so his broad frame blocked most of the view inside. You stayed behind the counter, heart suddenly hammering.
He opened the door.
Two armed men stood outside, wearing the dark crimson and gold colors of Lord Kato’s household. Swords hung at their hips. Their eyes scanned the interior of the shop coldly.
“We’re searching for a missing girl,” the taller guard announced. “Runaway bride. White wedding dress. She fled the lord’s estate last night. Anyone matching that description come through here?”
The air in the shop grew thick. Mrs. Sato and the other two women turned to look at you with wide eyes, then back at the guards.
Toji’s voice was calm but ice-cold. “No one like that here.”
The second guard tried to peer past him. “Mind if we take a look inside?”
You stayed frozen behind the counter, heart hammering. Before Toji could answer, Mrs. Sato stepped forward with the confidence of someone who had gossiped through every scandal the village had ever seen.
“Oh, for heaven’s sake,” she said brightly, waving a hand. “You boys are wasting your time. That right there is Toji Fushiguro — our butcher for the last fifteen years. We’ve known him since he was a surly teenager dragging whole pigs through these doors!”
Mira immediately jumped in, nodding eagerly. “And he has a wife! They’ve been happily married for two whole years now. We were at their quiet little wedding ourselves. Very romantic.”
Hana clapped her hands together dramatically. “Yes! They’re the sweetest couple. Toji can barely keep his hands off her even when he’s covered in blood. Always canoodling right outside the shop like they’re still courting!”
Mrs. Sato leaned toward the guards like she was sharing precious village lore. “Honestly, if some runaway noble girl in a fancy white dress had shown up here last night, the entire village would’ve known before sunrise. This dear girl has been living above the shop for ages. Helps Toji with the accounts and everything. She’s no fugitive — she’s the butcher’s wife, plain and simple.”
Toji finally moved. He reached back with one thick arm, caught you around the waist, and pulled you forward against his side in one smooth motion. His grip was firm and possessive, his large hand resting heavily on your hip as he held you close.
The guards blinked, clearly thrown by the united front.
The taller one squinted at you. “But the missing girl was wearing a white wedding dress…”
Mira let out a theatrical laugh. “Plenty of white dresses in the world! Our girl here has been wearing plain village clothes for years. Look at her — does she look like some pampered noble who ran away last night?”
Hana nodded vigorously. “Exactly! She even makes the best meat pies in the village. We’d know if she was some lord’s bride.”
The two guards exchanged uncertain glances. Between Toji’s intimidating size, the three women’s absolute certainty, and the perfectly domestic scene in front of them, their suspicion melted away.
The shorter guard cleared his throat. “Seems like a false lead, then. Sorry to bother you folks.”
The taller one gave a reluctant nod. “Apologies for the intrusion. If you hear anything about a girl in a white dress, send word to the lord’s estate.”
Mrs. Sato smiled sweetly. “Of course, dears. Safe travels back!”
The guards turned and walked off down the street without another word.
The moment the door clicked shut, Mrs. Sato burst into laughter and fanned herself. “Well! That was more excitement than we usually get before noon.”
Mira winked at you. “Don’t worry, love. We’ve got your back. No one’s taking the butcher’s wife anywhere.”
Hana grinned. “We’ll spread the word. The whole village will keep an eye out.”
Toji gave them a short, gruff nod. “Appreciate it.”
The women gathered their empty baskets, still buzzing, and finally left with more promises of future visits and gifts.
The shop fell quiet again, morning sunlight streaming peacefully through the windows.
Toji slowly turned to face you. His hand was still on your waist, heavy and warm. For a long moment he just studied you, green eyes dark and intense.
“You’re damn lucky those three are the nosiest women alive,” he muttered. “They just sold that story better than we could’ve.”
He stepped closer, backing you gently against the counter. His voice dropped low, rough around the edges.
“So the whole village’s got our back it seems.” His thumb brushed slowly over your hip bone. “This lie keeps growing. Whole village thinks you’re mine now.”
His gaze dropped to your lips for a heartbeat before returning to your eyes.
“So tell me, runaway… how long do you plan on playing my wife? And how far are you willing to go to make everyone believe it?”
You swallowed, suddenly very aware of how close he was. The counter pressed into your lower back, and Toji’s broad body blocked out most of the morning light. His hand remained heavy on your hip, thumb still tracing slow, absent circles that made your skin prickle beneath the thin blouse.
“I… I don’t know,” you admitted, voice barely above a whisper. “I didn’t think past getting away from Lord Kato. I just wanted to survive the night.”
Toji hummed, low and thoughtful. He tilted his head slightly, studying your face like he was trying to decide whether you were worth the growing headache you’d brought him.
“Surviving isn’t enough anymore,” he said. “Not after this morning. Those guards will report back. When they don’t find you, Kato will send more men. Maybe even come himself.” His fingers flexed on your hip. “And the whole village now believes you’re mine. If the story breaks, they’ll look like fools. They won’t forgive that easily.”
You met his eyes, heart thudding. “Then what do we do?”
For a moment he didn’t answer. Instead he reached up with his free hand and brushed a stray lock of hair behind your ear, the gesture surprisingly gentle for someone so rough-looking. His calloused fingertips lingered against the side of your neck.
“We lean into it,” he finally said. “Hard. You stay. You act like my wife in public — every smile, every touch, every time someone knocks on that door. No slipping up. No running off when it gets hard.”
He leaned in a fraction closer, voice dropping. “And in private… we figure out the real terms.”
Your breath caught. “Real terms?”
Toji’s scarred mouth curved into a slow, dangerous half-smirk. “You cost me peace and quiet, runaway. You cost me the simple life where nobody bothered me. So you’re going to start paying me back.”
He didn’t elaborate, but the heat in his green eyes made it very clear what kind of payment he had in mind.
“I won’t force you,” he continued, surprising you. “Door’s right there. You can still walk out and take your chances on the road. But if you stay…” His hand slid from your hip to the small of your back, pulling you flush against him. “Then you’re mine until this blows over. Or longer. Depends how good you are at pretending.”
The solid wall of his chest pressed against you, warm and unyielding. You could smell faint traces of smoke, soap, and the metallic hint of blood that never quite left him. Your hands came up instinctively, resting lightly on his abdomen.
“I’m not pretending right now,” you whispered.
Toji’s eyes darkened. For a second you thought he might kiss you — really kiss you — but he held back, letting the tension stretch until it was almost unbearable.
“Good,” he murmured. “Because the village expects a devoted wife. They’ll be watching. Bringing food. Asking questions. Asking when we’re going to have little butchers running around.”
Your face burned. Toji chuckled, deep and rough, clearly enjoying your reaction.
“Don’t worry. We’ll give them a good show.” He finally stepped back, giving you room to breathe again, though his hand lingered on your waist a moment longer. “For now, help me open the shop. Act natural. If anyone else comes asking, you know what to say.”
You nodded, still flushed.
As he turned to start his morning routine — sharpening knives, hanging fresh cuts, preparing the counter — you moved to help where you could. Every time you passed near him, his hand would brush your lower back or arm — small, deliberate touches that looked casual to anyone watching but felt heavy with intent.
By midday, a few villagers had already stopped by “just to say hello” and congratulate the newlyweds. Each time, Toji played his part perfectly — gruff, possessive, pulling you close with an ease that made the performance feel dangerously real.
An older man dropped off a small basket of eggs and clapped Toji on the back. “Didn’t think I’d live to see you settle down, Fushiguro. She must be something special.”
Toji’s arm tightened around your waist as he gave a low grunt. “She is.” His fingers flexed against your side, warm through the fabric of your blouse. You leaned into him instinctively, playing along, and felt the solid wall of muscle beneath his tunic.
A young mother came next with her toddler in tow, offering a jar of preserved berries. She smiled at you brightly. “You two look so good together. How long have you been hiding her from us, Toji?”
“Long enough,” he answered, voice rough but carrying a hint of smugness. He pressed a slow, deliberate kiss to the top of your head right in front of her. The casual affection made your stomach flutter.
By early afternoon the steady trickle of visitors finally slowed. Toji flipped the shop sign to “Closed for the Day” and locked the front door with a heavy click. The sudden silence felt louder than all the chatter combined.
You let out a shaky breath and leaned against the counter, arms wrapped around yourself. “They really believe it. All of them.”
Toji wiped his hands on a rag, watching you from across the room. He tossed the rag aside and stalked toward you, slow and deliberate.
Gods, he was huge.
Up close like this, in the quiet afternoon light, the sheer size of him hit you all over again. Broad shoulders that seemed to stretch the fabric of his black tunic, thick arms corded with muscle from years of hauling heavy carcasses, a powerful chest that rose and fell steadily. The jagged scar at the corner of his mouth only made him more striking — dangerous, rough, and strangely, undeniably attractive. Those sharp green eyes pinned you in place, intimidating as ever, yet there was something magnetic about the way he moved. Like a predator who knew exactly how much power he held and chose not to use it… yet.
He stopped right in front of you, so close you had to tilt your head back to meet his gaze. One large hand came up to cup your chin, thumb brushing along your jaw.
“You’re handling this better than I expected,” he said quietly.
You felt your pulse quicken under his touch. “I feel like I’m going to faint every time someone looks at me.”
His thumb stroked slowly over your skin. “You’re not fainting. You’re standing here in my shop, wearing my clothes, letting me touch you like you belong to me.” His voice dropped lower. “Looks pretty convincing from where I’m standing.”
The air between you thickened. You could smell the faint mix of blood, woodsmoke, and clean sweat that clung to him. His sheer physical presence was overwhelming — the heat rolling off his massive frame, the way his broad chest nearly brushed against you with every breath.
“What happens when the guards come back?” you asked, voice softer than you intended.
Toji’s expression darkened. “Then we give them the same show. Or I handle it my way.” His hand slid from your chin to the back of your neck, fingers threading gently into your hair. “But right now? Shop’s closed. No more visitors. No more pretending for a little while.”
He didn’t move away. Neither did you.
Instead, you found yourself leaning into his touch, exhaustion and adrenaline twisting into something warmer, heavier. Your hands rose to rest on his chest, feeling the hard, solid muscle beneath your palms.
“Toji…” you started, unsure what you even wanted to say.
He cut you off with a low sound. “Careful. You keep saying my name like that and I might start believing this marriage is real myself.”
His grip on the back of your neck tightened just slightly — not painful, but enough to remind you how easily he could pull you in. His green eyes dropped to your mouth, lingering this time, dark with hunger.
“You still haven’t answered my question from earlier,” he murmured. “How far are you willing to go, runaway?”
The shop was quiet except for the distant sounds of village life outside. No one was watching now. It was just the two of you, the weight of the lie, and the growing, electric heat between you.
You wet your lips, heart racing.
“I’m still here,” you whispered. “That should tell you something.”
Toji’s scarred mouth curved into a slow, hungry smirk.
“Yeah,” he said, voice rough. “It does.”
The silence that followed felt heavier than before. The shop was quiet now, the afternoon light cutting sharp lines across the wooden floor and the rows of knives hanging on the wall. Toji didn’t step back. He stayed right there, towering over you, one hand still gripping the back of your neck while the other rested heavy on your hip.
He really was massive up close.
Broad shoulders that strained his tunic, thick arms veined and scarred from years of brutal work, a chest so solid it looked like it could take a hit from a horse and keep going. The scar at the corner of his mouth gave his face a permanent edge, dangerous and rough. Yet there was something about the way he looked at you — intense green eyes, half-lidded, focused — that made your stomach tighten in a way that had nothing to do with fear.
Toji noticed you staring.
“Eyes up here,” he muttered, but the corner of his scarred mouth twitched like he was amused. “You keep looking at me like that and I’m gonna get the wrong idea.”
You swallowed. “I’ve never been this close to someone like you.”
“Someone like me,” he repeated, almost mocking. He leaned in a little more, voice dropping low. “Big, ugly butcher covered in blood half the time?”
You shook your head. “Not ugly.”
The words slipped out before you could stop them. Toji paused, eyes narrowing slightly like he was trying to decide if you were lying. Then he let out a short, rough breath.
His thumb brushed slowly along the side of your neck, calloused and warm. You could feel the strength in his hand, how easily he could tighten his grip if he wanted. The contrast between that raw power and the way he was holding back made the air feel thick.
“You’re playing a dangerous game,” he said quietly. His gaze dropped to your mouth for a second before flicking back up. “I’m not a patient man, runaway. And I’m definitely not a gentle one.”
Your hands were still pressed against his chest. Under your palms, his muscles were firm and warm, shifting slightly with each breath. You didn’t pull away.
“I know,” you whispered.
Toji’s jaw flexed. For a moment his control looked strained — shoulders tense, fingers pressing harder into your skin. He leaned down until his face was inches from yours, close enough that you could feel the heat of his breath.
“If you stay,” he said, voice low and deliberate, “this stops being fake whenever I say it does. Behind this door, you won’t be playing a role. You’ll be in my bed. Under me. Taking what I give you.” His thumb dragged across your lower lip. “And you’ll moan my name like you mean it.”
Your breath caught.
Toji held your gaze for another long second, then slowly released you. He stepped back, rolling one shoulder like he needed to shake off the tension. The sudden space felt colder than it should have.
“But not right now,” he added gruffly. “You’re still half-dead on your feet and I’ve got work to finish before the meat spoils.”
He turned toward the back counter and picked up his sharpening stone. The steady scrape of metal filled the shop as he worked on one of his larger knives. You stayed by the front counter, watching the way his back and arms moved — powerful, efficient, every motion reminding you exactly what kind of man had just offered to claim you.
Every so often he glanced over at you, eyes dark and unreadable.
The silence between you wasn’t uncomfortable. It was charged. Heavy with everything neither of you was saying out loud.
After a while, Toji spoke without looking up from his work.
“You hungry?”
You blinked, surprised by the sudden normal question. “A little.”
He jerked his head toward the stairs. “There’s leftover stew from this morning in the pot upstairs. Heat it up if you want. Or stay down here. Doesn’t matter to me.”
You hesitated, then moved to help him organize the counter instead. Every time you passed close by, his arm would brush yours — deliberate, not accidental. Small reminders that the tension hadn’t gone anywhere.
The afternoon stretched on like that. Quiet work. Occasional glances. The weight of his presence never really leaving you.
By the time the sun had fully set and the village outside grew dark and quiet, the tension between you had only thickened. Lanterns flickered in distant windows, but inside the butcher shop everything felt hushed and intimate.
Toji locked the front door with a heavy click and killed most of the lanterns, leaving only a single low one burning near the stairs. The warm glow followed you both upstairs, casting long shadows across the wooden beams.
He grabbed a spare blanket from the chest and headed for the worn couch against the far wall without a word. The piece of furniture looked comically small beneath his massive frame as he tossed the blanket over it. Then he reached back and pulled his tunic off in one smooth motion.
Your mouth went dry.
Firelight danced over his bare back and shoulders — thick slabs of muscle shifting under scarred skin, powerful arms flexing as he folded the tunic. His waist tapered into a sharp V, disappearing beneath the waistband of his trousers. Every inch of him looked hard, battle-worn, and undeniably masculine. The sight made something low in your belly tighten.
You stood frozen in the bedroom doorway.
“Wait,” you said, voice barely louder than a whisper.
Toji glanced over his shoulder, one dark brow raised. The movement made the muscles in his chest and abdomen flex visibly.
You twisted your fingers in the hem of your blouse, cheeks already burning.
“You don’t have to sleep on the couch,” you offered shyly. “The bed is… big enough for both of us. I don’t mind sharing.”
The silence that followed was deafening.
Toji slowly turned around to face you fully. The low firelight carved deep shadows across his torso, highlighting every ridge of muscle, every old scar, the faint trail of dark hair disappearing into his trousers. He looked even bigger like this — raw power barely contained, green eyes locked on you with dangerous intensity.
He took one slow step closer, then another.
“Careful what you offer me, runaway,” he said, voice low and gravel-rough. “I’m not the type to hold back.”
You swallowed hard but didn’t back away.
“I just… it doesn’t feel right making you sleep on that tiny thing after everything,” you murmured, eyes flicking involuntarily down his bare chest before snapping back up. “We’re supposed to be married. At least to everyone else.”
Toji stopped just inches away from you. The heat radiating from his body wrapped around you like a cloak. You could smell him — smoke, clean sweat, and that faint metallic trace that always clung to his skin. His sheer size made you feel small and fragile in comparison.
He tilted his head, studying you like prey.
“You offering to share my bed isn’t about being polite,” he murmured. “If I get in that bed with you, I’m not staying on my side. I’ll pull you against me. I’ll have my hands all over that soft little body. And if you keep looking at me with those wide, needy eyes…”
He leaned down, lips brushing the shell of your ear as he spoke.
“I won’t be able to stop myself from spreading those pretty thighs and finding out exactly how wet pretending to be my wife has made you.”
Your breath hitched sharply. Heat flooded your face and pooled between your legs. You pressed your thighs together instinctively, but Toji noticed — of course he did. A dark, satisfied sound rumbled in his chest.
He pulled back just enough to look at your face again, eyes heavy-lidded and hungry.
“I’m not gentle,” he continued, voice dropping even lower. “I fuck hard. I take what I want. And right now, I want to ruin that shy little runaway who dropped to her knees at my door and turned my whole life upside down.”
His hand came up, knuckles lightly dragging down the side of your neck, over your racing pulse, then lower until they brushed the neckline of your blouse. Not quite touching skin, but close enough to make you shiver.
“So think very carefully before you offer again,” he warned. “Because once I’m in that bed, the only pretending left will be how long you can keep quiet while I’m buried inside you.”
The air felt too thick to breathe.
Toji’s scarred mouth curved into a slow, predatory smirk as he watched the effect his words had on you.
“Still want to share a bed with me… wife?”
Toji’s words hung heavy in the air.
You didn’t answer with words.
You looked up at him, heart hammering so hard you could feel it in your throat, and gave a small, shy nod.
That was all it took.
Toji’s control snapped. A low, almost feral sound rumbled in his chest as he moved. In one fluid motion he scooped you up, one thick arm under your knees and the other around your back, lifting you like you weighed nothing. Your breath caught at how easily he carried you — his biceps flexing hard against your body, the heat of his bare chest pressing into your side.
He carried you the few steps to the bed and laid you down on your back with surprising care, but the look in his eyes was anything but gentle. The mattress dipped deeply under his weight as he climbed over you, caging you in completely with his massive frame. His broad shoulders blocked out most of the firelight, leaving you in shadow beneath him.
“You a virgin?” he asked, voice low and rough, green eyes searching yours like he was looking for any hesitation.
You nodded again, cheeks burning with embarrassment.
“Fuck,” he breathed, the word almost reverent. His gaze darkened as it dragged slowly down your body. “Gonna have to take my time with you then. Can’t wreck this tight little virgin cunt on the first thrust.”
He kissed you deeply, tongue claiming your mouth in slow, filthy strokes while his rough hands explored every inch of you. He took his time peeling your clothes off — first tugging your blouse over your head, then sliding your skirt down your legs, and finally hooking his fingers into your soaked panties and dragging them off. When you were completely naked beneath him, he sat back on his heels and just stared, drinking in every inch of your exposed body like a man who’d been starving for weeks.
“So fucking small,” he muttered, almost to himself. His large hands ran up your thighs, thumbs brushing the sensitive skin on the inside, then spread your legs wide open. “Look at this pretty virgin pussy… already glistening and I’ve barely touched you.”
The cool air hit your wet folds and you shivered. Toji’s eyes were locked between your legs, dark and hungry, as if he couldn’t believe what he was seeing.
He lowered himself between your spread thighs like a man on a mission. The first slow, hot drag of his tongue from your entrance all the way up to your clit made your entire body jolt. Toji groaned deeply at your taste, the sound vibrating straight through you.
“Sweet as hell,” he rasped, voice thick with lust. “Could eat this pussy for hours.”
Then he devoured you.
His tongue worked in slow, broad strokes, licking every inch of your soaked folds before focusing on your swollen clit. He sucked the sensitive bud into his hot mouth, flicking it rapidly with the tip of his tongue while two thick fingers teased your entrance, circling and pressing but not pushing in yet. When you started whimpering and rolling your hips, he finally pushed one thick finger inside you — careful, but relentless.
“So goddamn tight,” he growled against your pussy, the vibration making your toes curl. “This little hole is gonna fight my cock the whole way in.”
He curled his finger slowly, searching, until he found that spongy spot that made your back arch. He rubbed it firmly while sucking harder on your clit. The wet, obscene sounds of his mouth and fingers filled the quiet bedroom — slick, filthy, and loud. Your thighs started trembling around his head as pleasure coiled tighter and tighter in your belly.
“Toji— oh gods—”
He didn’t let up. He ate you out like he was starving for it — messy, hungry, and completely focused on pulling every sound out of you. He added a second finger, stretching you open carefully, scissoring them while his tongue flicked fast and firm over your clit. The pressure built unbearably fast.
Your orgasm crashed over you without warning. Your back arched clean off the bed as you came hard on his face with a broken, sobbing cry of his name. Your walls clamped down around his fingers, pulsing wildly.
Toji licked you through every wave, slow and thorough, drawing out every last tremor until you were twitching and oversensitive, whimpering softly. Only then did he pull back. His chin and lips were shiny with your slick. He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, eyes dark and satisfied as he looked up at your flushed, panting face.
Then he shoved his trousers down.
His cock sprang free — thick, heavy, veined, and longer than anything you’d ever imagined. The flushed head was already leaking steadily.
“See this?” he said, stroking himself slowly. “This is gonna stretch you wide open, baby. But I’ll make it fit.”
He climbed back over you, pushing your legs up and folding your knees toward your chest. The position left you completely exposed. He rubbed the fat head of his cock up and down your drenched folds, coating himself in your wetness, teasing your clit with every pass.
“Deep breaths,” he warned. “Gonna go slow.”
He pushed in.
The stretch was intense. You gasped sharply, a high-pitched whimper escaping you as just the thick head popped inside. “Ah—! Toji… it’s so big…”
Toji groaned, jaw clenched tight as he fought the urge to slam forward. “Fuck— so tight,” he hissed. “Relax for me, baby. Let me in.”
You whimpered softly, fingers clutching at his shoulders. “It burns… but— ah— don’t stop…”
He worked himself in inch by slow, careful inch. Every time you tensed, he stopped, leaning down to kiss your neck or suck on your tits until you loosened again. Sweat beaded on his forehead from the restraint.
Halfway in, you let out a shaky moan, eyes fluttering. “Oh gods… I can feel you so deep already…”
Toji looked down at the bulge already forming in your lower belly. “Shit… look at that,” he groaned, pressing a big hand over the swell. “My cock’s barely halfway and I can already see it inside you.”
When he finally bottomed out, hips flush against your ass, you felt so full you could barely breathe. A broken whimper left your lips. “T-Toji… you’re all the way in… I feel so full…”
Toji stayed still, buried to the hilt, letting you adjust while he kissed you slow and deep. “Good girl,” he praised, voice strained. “Taking every inch of my cock on your first time. Such a perfect little wife.”
When your whimpers turned into soft, needy moans, he started moving — slow, deep rolls of his hips at first. The wet drag of his thick cock against your walls made you cry out.
“Feel that?” he growled. “Feel how deep I am? Gonna breed this cunt so full tonight.”
“Ah—! Yes… I feel it,” you moaned, voice trembling. “It’s so deep… Toji—!”
His pace gradually picked up. The bed started creaking rhythmically as he fucked you harder, deeper. Your tits bounced with every thrust. You couldn’t stop the desperate sounds spilling from your mouth.
“Gonna fill you up,” he panted. “Pump this tight womb full of my cum until it takes. Want you walking around the village with my kid growing inside you. Everyone’s gonna know exactly who fucked you first.”
The filthy words sent you spiraling. “Please— Toji— I’m gonna—!” You came hard around his cock, walls fluttering and squeezing him like a vice as you screamed his name, “Toji—! Ahh—!”
Toji snarled and fucked you through it, pace turning brutal. The wet slap of skin on skin echoed loudly.
“Fuck— gonna cum,” he groaned. “Gonna breed you— take it all—”
You whimpered and moaned beneath him, voice hoarse, “Cum inside me… please— fill me up—!”
He slammed in deep one final time and came with a long, guttural moan. Thick, hot ropes of cum flooded your pussy, pulse after heavy pulse. There was so much it leaked out around his cock despite how tightly you were stretched around him. Toji kept grinding deep, pushing every drop into your womb, hand pressing down on the bulge in your belly like he wanted to keep it all inside you.
You let out a soft, overwhelmed whimper at the feeling of being so full of him.
He stayed buried inside you for a long moment, chest heaving against yours, both of you slick with sweat.
Then he leaned down, kissed you slow and possessive, and murmured against your lips:
“This cunt belongs to me.”
Toji stayed inside you for a while longer, gently grinding and kissing your neck, before he finally pulled out with a low groan. A thick trickle of his cum leaked from your abused hole onto the sheets. He looked down at the mess with dark satisfaction, then rolled onto his back and pulled you against his chest.
“Rest now,” he said quietly, voice rough but surprisingly gentle as he wrapped a heavy arm around you. “You’ve had a long day, runaway. Close your eyes.”
He pressed one last kiss to the top of your head, his large hand resting possessively on your lower belly.
“Go to sleep.”
-
You woke up to warmth.
A heavy, solid arm was draped across your waist, pinning you to a broad chest. Toji’s body was curled around yours from behind, one thick thigh wedged between your legs. His breathing was slow and deep, but the moment you shifted even slightly, his grip tightened possessively.
The room was still dim, early morning light just beginning to creep through the small window. Your body ached — a deep, satisfying soreness between your thighs, faint bruises on your hips from his fingers, and the unmistakable sticky warmth of his cum still leaking out of you.
You tried to move again, but Toji’s low, sleepy growl stopped you.
“Stay,” he muttered against the back of your neck, voice rough with sleep. His hand slid down to cup your lower belly, pressing lightly. “Not done holding you yet.”
Heat rushed to your face. You stayed still, letting him pull you tighter against him. His cock — already half-hard again — rested heavy against your ass.
After a few quiet minutes, Toji sighed and finally loosened his grip. He rolled you onto your back so he could look down at you. His hair was messy, eyes still heavy-lidded, but the smirk on his scarred mouth was fully awake.
“Morning,” he said, voice gravelly. His hand stayed on your stomach, thumb stroking slow circles. “How’re you feeling?”
You shifted, wincing a little at the soreness. “Full… and sore,” you admitted softly.
Toji’s smirk widened into something darker, more satisfied. He leaned down and kissed you — slow and lazy at first, then deeper, tongue sliding against yours. When he pulled back, he dragged his hand lower, fingers brushing through the mess between your thighs.
“Still leaking my cum,” he murmured, almost proud. “Good.”
He pushed two thick fingers back inside you, slow and careful, fucking his dried cum deeper. You whimpered, hips twitching.
“Toji—”
“Shh,” he soothed, kissing your temple. “Not fucking you again right now. You’re too sore.” He kept his fingers inside you anyway, lazy and possessive. “Just keeping you full.”
You stayed like that for a while — his fingers buried inside you, his mouth brushing lazy kisses along your neck and shoulder. The morning was quiet except for the occasional creak of the bed and your soft sounds.
Eventually he pulled his fingers out, brought them to his mouth, and licked them clean while watching your face.
“Breakfast,” he said simply. “Then we open the shop.”
He got up first, completely naked and shameless. You couldn’t stop yourself from staring at the powerful lines of his back, the flex of his ass and thighs as he moved. He caught you looking and chuckled.
“Keep staring like that and I will bend you over the table downstairs,” he warned.
You quickly looked away, cheeks burning.
He tossed you one of his clean shirts and a fresh skirt. While you dressed, he pulled on his usual trousers and tank top, tying his blood-stained apron around his waist.
Before you left the bedroom, he caught your wrist and pulled you close one more time. His hand cupped your jaw, thumb brushing your bottom lip.
“Last night wasn’t pretend,” he said quietly, eyes serious. “Not for me. You’re mine. Understand?”
You swallowed and whispered, “I understand.”
He kissed you again — hard, claiming — then rested his forehead against yours for a second.
“Good.”
He led you downstairs, his hand firm on your lower back the entire way.
The village was waking up outside. And for the first time since you’d run away, you didn’t feel like running anymore.
Toji unlocked the front door and flipped the sign while you tied on a clean apron. The morning air carried the smell of fresh bread from Mrs. Sato’s bakery and the distant clang of the blacksmith’s hammer. A few early customers began drifting toward the shop.
The first hour passed in a surprisingly calm rhythm. You helped weigh portions, wrap cuts of meat in clean paper, and hand them over with a shy smile. Toji stayed close the whole time — sometimes reaching past you for a knife, sometimes resting a hand on your waist as he moved behind you. Every touch felt deliberate, like he was marking his territory even when no one was watching.
Then the bell above the door rang again.
A tall, sun-tanned man with kind eyes and an easy, friendly smile stepped inside. He looked to be in his late twenties, with the strong build of someone who spent his days working the fields. He greeted Toji with a familiar nod.
“Morning, Fushiguro. The usual shoulder cut, please.” His gaze shifted to you behind the counter and softened with genuine interest. “You must be the new wife everyone’s been talking about. I’m Haru. I run the big farm past the mill.”
You returned his smile politely. “Nice to meet you, Haru.”
He watched as you carefully wrapped his order, your hands still a little clumsy with the butcher paper. “It’s good to see a new face around here,” he said warmly. “You seem really kind. Gentle. The kind of person who makes a place feel brighter just by being in it.” He rubbed the back of his neck, almost shyly. “If you ever need anything — extra vegetables from the farm, help carrying something heavy, or just someone to talk to when things get quiet — my door’s always open. Wouldn’t want you feeling lonely so soon after moving in.”
You tilted your head, completely oblivious to any hidden meaning, and gave him a grateful smile. “That’s very kind of you. Thank you. I’ll keep that in mind.”
Before you could say anything else, the air behind you changed.
Toji’s large hand settled heavily on your hip, fingers digging in with clear possession as he pulled you back firmly against his chest. His other arm slid around your waist, locking you in place.
“She won’t be needing anything,” Toji said, his voice low and dangerously even. “I take care of my wife.”
Haru blinked, the friendly smile faltering as he finally registered the tension rolling off the butcher. “Of course. I was just… being neighborly.”
Toji’s grip on your hip tightened. “Neighborly is saying hello. The rest sounded like something else.”
The silence that followed was thick and uncomfortable. Haru swallowed hard, quickly paid for his meat, and muttered a polite goodbye before leaving without another word. The door swung shut behind him with a soft jingle.
The second he was gone, Toji spun you around and backed you against the counter. His green eyes were dark, jaw clenched tight with barely-contained jealousy. One big hand came up to cup your jaw, thumb pressing lightly against your bottom lip.
“You really didn’t notice?” he muttered, voice rough.
You shook your head, genuinely confused. “He was just being nice…”
Toji let out a short, irritated breath and leaned in closer, forehead almost touching yours. “He wasn’t just being nice. He was testing the waters. Seeing if my wife might be open to something else. Offering you a soft place to land if you ever got tired of me.”
His other hand slid under your skirt, fingers brushing between your thighs and finding you still slick from the night before. You gasped softly as he pushed two thick fingers inside you without warning, curling them slowly.
“Toji—”
“Mine,” he growled quietly against your ear, pumping his fingers in a lazy rhythm. “This pussy is mine. You are mine. I don’t want you smiling so sweetly at other men. Understand?”
You whimpered, clutching his shoulders as pleasure sparked through your still-sensitive body. “I understand…”
He kissed you then — hard, possessive, and hungry — while his fingers continued their slow, deliberate strokes. When he finally pulled back, his eyes were still dark with jealousy.
“Next time someone talks to you like that,” he said, voice low, “you let me handle it.”
He reluctantly withdrew his fingers, straightened your skirt, and stepped back like nothing had happened. But the tension in his shoulders and the dark look in his eyes remained.
“Back to work,” he said gruffly, still clearly worked up.
You nodded, legs shaky, heart racing, and turned back to the counter.
The rest of the morning passed with Toji staying even closer than before — a constant, heavy, possessive presence at your side. Every time another customer entered, his hand found your waist or lower back, silently reminding everyone (and you) exactly who you belonged to.
The rest of the morning dragged on with the same heavy tension.
Every time a male customer stepped through the door, Toji’s demeanor shifted. His hand would find your waist, your hip, or the small of your back — a silent, unmistakable claim. He answered questions in short, clipped tones and watched the men with sharp, warning eyes. You tried to focus on wrapping orders and smiling politely, but the constant possessiveness was becoming impossible to ignore.
By early afternoon, when the shop finally quieted again, you couldn’t hold it in anymore.
You turned to him while he was wiping down the counter.
“Toji,” you said softly, “you’re being too much.”
He paused, setting the rag down slowly. When he looked at you, his green eyes had gone dark.
“Too much?” he repeated, voice low and deceptively calm.
You swallowed but stood your ground. “Yes. The constant touching, the glaring at every man who even looks at me... They’re just customers.”
Toji stared at you for a long, heavy beat. Then he slowly walked around the counter, backing you up until your hips hit the edge. He caged you in with his massive frame, one hand braced beside you on the wood, the other coming up to grip your chin, forcing you to meet his eyes.
“You think I’m being too possessive?” he murmured, thumb brushing your bottom lip. “Tell me something, wife… What kind of husband would I be if I let other men think they can have access to what’s mine?”
His voice was rough, low, and dangerous. “If I smiled and stepped aside while they flirted with you? While they offered you help and soft words like they had any right to you?”
He leaned in closer, breath hot against your ear. “I’d be a fucking joke. A weak man who doesn’t know how to protect what belongs to him. And I’m not weak.”
His free hand slid under your skirt without warning, fingers pushing between your thighs. You were bare underneath. The moment his calloused fingertips brushed your folds, he groaned softly — low and rough — when he found you already wet again.
“Already soaked,” he muttered, voice thick with satisfaction. “Complaining about me being too possessive, but your pussy is dripping the second I touch you.”
“Toji—” you whimpered, hips twitching as two thick fingers pushed inside you in one smooth motion. The stretch made you gasp, your walls still tender and sensitive from the night before.
He curled his fingers slowly, deliberately, stroking that spongy spot deep inside you while his thumb found your swollen clit and rubbed tight, firm circles. His mouth latched onto your neck, sucking hard enough to leave another mark, teeth grazing your skin as he worked you open.
You moaned, loud and broken, clutching desperately at his broad shoulders. Your legs trembled around his wrist as pleasure sparked hot and fast through your body.
“You can tell me I’m too much,” he growled against your throat, biting down lightly before soothing the sting with his tongue. “But we both know the truth. You like it when I act like this. You like knowing no one else can touch you. You like being mine.”
His fingers pumped faster, curling with every thrust, the wet, obscene sounds of your arousal filling the quiet shop. Your hips rolled against his hand instinctively, chasing the pleasure even as your thighs shook.
“Ah— Toji… please—” you moaned, voice cracking. Your head fell back, exposing more of your neck to him. He took full advantage, sucking and biting along your skin while his fingers drove deeper, faster.
You were right there — teetering on the edge, muscles tightening around his thick fingers — when he suddenly pulled his hand away completely.
You let out a desperate, needy whine, hips chasing his fingers uselessly. Your core throbbed, aching and empty.
“Toji…!” you whimpered, voice hoarse and frustrated, eyes glassy with unshed tears of need. “Please— I was so close…”
Toji smirked, dark and satisfied, eyes gleaming with lust as he watched you squirm. He brought his glistening fingers up between you, holding them in front of your face so you could see how wet they were — coated in your slick right up to his knuckles.
“Open,” he ordered, voice low and commanding.
You obeyed instantly, parting your lips. He pushed his fingers into your mouth, letting you taste yourself as you sucked them clean, tongue swirling around them obediently. His green eyes darkened further, pupils blown wide as he watched you.
“Good girl,” he murmured, voice rough with arousal. “Look at you… so fucking eager. Whining because I stopped, sucking my fingers like you’d do anything for my cock right now.”
He pulled his fingers free with a wet pop and leaned in, kissing you deeply, tasting you on your own tongue. When he pulled back, his breath was ragged.
“You can complain about me being possessive all you want,” he said, voice dark and low, “but your body doesn’t lie. This pussy knows exactly who it belongs to.”
He suddenly lifted you onto the counter with ease, as if you weighed nothing. The wood was cool against the backs of your thighs as he shoved your skirt all the way up to your waist in one rough motion, baring your dripping pussy completely. He stepped between your spread thighs, his broad body forcing your legs wider apart until your knees were nearly touching your shoulders.
His hands gripped your hips hard enough to bruise, fingers digging deep into your soft flesh with unmistakable ownership. With his other hand, he freed his cock — thick, heavy, and already throbbing. The veined shaft glistened as he stroked himself once, slowly, eyes locked on your exposed, glistening cunt.
“Since you think I’m too possessive,” he said, voice rough and dangerous, “I’m going to remind you exactly why I am.”
He rubbed the fat, leaking head of his cock up and down your soaked folds, coating every thick inch in your slick. He teased your swollen clit with every slow pass, tapping it lightly until your hips jerked and you let out a needy whimper.
“Toji… please—”
Without another word, he pushed in with one deep, powerful thrust.
You cried out sharply, back arching hard off the counter as the thick head forced its way inside, stretching you wide open. The sudden, overwhelming fullness stole your breath. Toji groaned deeply, burying himself to the hilt in one smooth stroke, his hips flush against your ass.
“Fuck… still so tight,” he growled, voice strained with pleasure. “Even after I filled you last night. This greedy little cunt keeps sucking me in like it doesn’t want to let go.”
He didn’t give you any time to adjust. He started fucking you hard and deep, the heavy wooden counter creaking loudly under the force of every brutal thrust. Your moans echoed shamelessly through the empty shop as he claimed you right there in the middle of the day.
“Mine,” he snarled against your neck, biting down hard enough to leave another dark mark. “Say it.”
“I’m yours— ah— Toji—!” you moaned, voice breaking as your legs wrapped tightly around his waist, heels digging into his lower back.
He fucked you even harder, hips snapping forward with powerful, punishing strokes. The wet slap of skin against skin filled the room, loud and filthy. One of his big hands reached between your bodies, his thumb finding your swollen clit and rubbing fast, tight circles.
“That’s right,” he panted, breath hot against your ear. “My wife. My pussy. No one else gets to look at you the way I do. No one else gets to touch you. No one else even gets to fucking think about you.”
Your moans grew louder and more desperate, your walls fluttering around his thick cock with every deep thrust. The counter shook beneath you. Your tits bounced wildly inside your blouse with the force of his movements.
He suddenly leaned back slightly, gripping your thighs and spreading you even wider as he drove into you. The new angle made him hit even deeper, the bulge in your lower belly becoming visible with every thrust.
“Look at that,” he groaned, eyes fixed on the spot where his cock disappeared inside you. “You’re taking me so fucking deep. This tight cunt was made for my cock.”
You cried out, nails digging into his shoulders as pleasure coiled tighter and tighter inside you. “Toji—! It’s too deep— ahh—!”
“You can take it,” he growled, fucking you harder. “You’re going to take everything I give you.”
Your orgasm crashed over you without warning — fast, violent, and overwhelming. Your walls clenched hard around his cock, fluttering and squeezing as waves of intense pleasure tore through your body. You screamed his name, thighs shaking violently around his waist.
Toji snarled like a beast, his rhythm turning erratic and savage as he fucked you through your climax. He kept pounding into you, chasing his own release, hips slamming against yours with wet, filthy sounds.
But he didn’t cum.
Instead, he suddenly slowed his thrusts, grinding deep and slow, keeping you right on the edge of overstimulation. His breathing was ragged, sweat glistening on his chest and neck.
He leaned down, capturing your mouth in a messy, possessive kiss while still buried deep inside you.
“You’re not done yet,” he murmured against your lips, voice dark and full of promise. “We’re nowhere near finished.”
Before you could catch your breath, Toji pulled out of you with a wet, obscene sound. You whimpered at the sudden emptiness, your pussy clenching around nothing, already missing the thick stretch of him. But he didn’t give you any time to protest.
In one swift, powerful motion, he flipped you over onto your stomach across the counter. Your chest pressed against the cool, smooth surface, your cheek resting on the wood as he yanked your hips back and up, forcing your ass high in the air. Your skirt was still bunched uselessly around your waist, leaving you completely exposed — bent over like a whore in the middle of his shop.
Toji kicked your legs wider apart with his foot, then pressed one large hand firmly between your shoulder blades, pinning you down hard against the counter.
“Fuck, look at you,” he growled, voice thick with raw lust. “Bent over my counter like a proper little wife. Ass up, pussy dripping for me.”
He spread your ass cheeks wide with both hands, exposing your swollen, abused pussy completely. Without any warning, he spat directly onto your folds — a thick, warm glob of saliva landing right on your clit and dripping down. You gasped sharply at the filthy sensation, your hips twitching.
Toji groaned at the sight and used two thick fingers to rub his spit into your pussy, mixing it with your own slick, pushing it inside you. Then he brought his palm down hard on your ass with a loud, resounding smack.
The sharp sting bloomed hot across your skin. You cried out, jolting forward on the counter.
“Stay still,” he ordered, voice rough. He smacked the other cheek even harder, watching the way your flesh jiggled and turned pink under his hand. “This ass is mine too. Every fucking inch of you is mine.”
You moaned helplessly, pushing back against him despite the sting. Toji lined up the thick head of his cock again and thrust back inside you in one brutal, deep stroke.
The new angle made him feel impossibly bigger, reaching even deeper. You moaned loudly, fingers scrambling for purchase on the smooth wooden counter as he immediately started fucking you hard and fast.
The counter creaked loudly under the force of his powerful thrusts. Each snap of his hips drove his thick cock impossibly deep, the wet slap of skin against skin echoing through the empty shop. Toji’s hands gripped your hips in a bruising hold, pulling you back onto his cock with every stroke like he was using you.
“Fuck— this pussy feels even better like this,” he groaned, voice rough and strained. He smacked your ass again, harder this time, watching the way your flesh rippled red under his palm. “So fucking wet. You like being bent over and used like this, don’t you?”
“Yes— ah— Toji—!” you moaned, cheek pressed against the cool counter, eyes fluttering shut. Every brutal thrust made your breasts press harder into the wood, your sensitive nipples dragging against it.
Toji reached forward and fisted a hand in your hair, pulling your head back slightly as he fucked you even harder. His hips slammed against your ass with wet, filthy sounds. He spat on your pussy again, right where his thick cock was stretching you open, and used his thumb to rub the saliva into your swollen clit.
“Such a messy little wife,” he panted, smacking your ass repeatedly between thrusts — sharp, stinging slaps that made you clench tighter around him. “Dripping all over my counter. Taking my cock so deep like you were made for it. Look at this greedy cunt swallowing every inch.”
Your moans turned into broken sobs of pleasure. The combination of his brutal pace, the stinging heat on your ass, and the filthy words pushed you right to the edge again.
Toji leaned over you, his broad chest pressing against your back, his breath hot and ragged against your ear as he kept pounding into you without mercy.
“Tell me who this pussy belongs to,” he growled, smacking your ass one more time, hard enough to make you yelp.
“You—! It belongs to you— Toji—!” you cried out, voice hoarse and desperate.
He snarled in satisfaction and fucked you even harder, the counter shaking beneath you. His hand slipped between your legs again, rubbing your clit fast and rough.
You came with a broken scream, your walls clamping down hard around his thick cock, thighs shaking violently as intense pleasure tore through you.
Toji groaned loudly as your orgasm triggered his own. He slammed in deep one final time and came hard, flooding your pussy with thick, hot spurts of cum. He kept grinding into you slowly, pushing every drop as deep as possible, his hips pressed tight against your reddened ass.
For a long moment, the only sounds in the shop were your heavy breathing and the faint drip of his cum leaking out of you onto the floor.
Toji stayed buried inside you, leaning over your back and kissing the back of your neck possessively.
“Still think I’m being too possessive?” he murmured against your skin, voice dark and satisfied.
You could only whimper in response, too overwhelmed to form words. Your body was trembling, pressed against the counter, pussy still fluttering weakly around his thick cock. Every small shift made you feel the mess he’d left inside you — warm, sticky, and so full it was leaking down your thighs.
Toji let out a low, rumbling sound of approval. He stayed deep for a long moment, grinding slow and lazy, pushing his cum even deeper as if he couldn’t stand the thought of any of it escaping. His large hand smoothed over the reddened skin of your ass where he’d spanked you, almost soothing now, before giving one last firm squeeze.
“Answer me,” he said quietly, lips brushing the shell of your ear.
“…No,” you breathed, voice hoarse and shaky. “I don’t.”
He hummed, clearly pleased. He finally pulled out slowly, watching with dark eyes as a thick trail of his cum dripped from your abused hole onto the floor. The sight made him groan softly.
“Fuck, that’s a pretty sight,” he muttered. He used two fingers to push some of the leaking cum back inside you, then straightened your skirt with surprising care.
Toji helped you stand on shaky legs, turning you to face him. He cupped your jaw with one hand, thumb brushing your flushed cheek as he studied your expression — eyes glassy, lips swollen, hair messy.
“You’re going to feel me for the rest of the day,” he said, voice low. “Every step. Every time you move. I want you thinking about who fucked you over this counter.”
He leaned in and kissed you — slower this time, but still deep and possessive. When he pulled back, his forehead rested against yours for a brief second.
“Clean yourself up a little,” he told you, pressing one last kiss to your temple. “We’ve still got half a day left.”
Toji stepped back, tucking himself away and adjusting his apron like nothing had happened, though the dark, satisfied glint in his eyes remained.
You stood there on unsteady legs, heart still racing, feeling the unmistakable warmth of his cum slowly leaking down your inner thighs.
And somehow, you couldn’t find it in yourself to complain.
a/n: aren't the old hags kinda iconic? lmk what you think and if you'd be interested in a part two! likes and reblogs appreciated!!
you had just given birth to the heir of the zen'in clan. instead of getting to bask in all the newborn cuddles and bliss, your husband was asking when you'd go to the gym. you meet a beautiful woman and quickly find out she's good at more than just giving meal plans.
PAIRING: fem! toji fushiguro x fem! reader
CONTENT WARNINGS: 18+ content, MDNI. giving birth (sawry). n*oya mention (he's an asshole). infidelity (mandatory i do not condone cheating inserted here). reader's insecure. standing 69. toji's strapped up. silicone (man don't come for me) p in v. mirror sex. tit play. lactation. divorce.
NOTE: her alluring strap beckoned me in once more.
fem! toji fanart (cw: gore) by @/kcokaine
the feeling of giving birth is often described as a euphoric experience in most pregnancy books (you would know, you’ve read them all twice by now), an overwhelming feeling of relief washing over once the baby was out.
this felt like anything but euphoria.
it felt like hell.
naoya had insisted that you have a natural birth—without any kind of epidural or any medication to help numb the pain, which left you feeling everything. left you feeling like you were being wedged apart into two pieces, feeling every torturous inch that your ob-gyn pushed further in.
nearly their entire arm was in your vagina, examining how the process was coming along. “7 centimeters dilated, baby’s positioning into the birth canal,” they note before glancing over at you, “okay, you’re in active labor. it shouldn’t be long now before you’re able to start pushing.”
contractions wrack your body more frequently than they did when you first arrived, hitting you like a wave every three minutes. it starts off painful—like someone’s desperate to wring out your uterus like a wet dishrag, pressure building up in your pelvis and back, each one lasting about 40 seconds before the short lived relief comes.
each breath that leaves your lungs feels ragged, the nurses by your sides raising their hands up. “inhale,” they lightly order, and you know they’re just trying to be kind—but fuck, if it doesn’t feel impossible—before dropping their hands ten seconds later. “exhale. keep doing that for us, relax your pelvic muscles.”
about half an hour passes before your ob-gyn checks again, cervix dilated to the size of a bagel by now. the baby was coming. it was happening now. in a span of seconds, a group of nurses rushed in with a bunch of machines in hand.
your fingers dig into the bedsheets next to you, husband refusing to come join you for the birth. to let you squeeze his hand halfway to death. "you seriously think i'm going to stand for two hours? get over yourself."
he plopped his ass down on the couch in the corner of the room, resting his arm behind his head while the other held up his phone. naoya was busy watching a stream, a scowl on his face every time you wailed too loudly. a scowl he shot at everyone who dared to interrupt him, even the nurses who'd asked if he was sure he didn't want to be next to you.
a bubbling sob only broke from his throat once—when an old charlie kirk video popped on his screen. his hand covered his eyes, grieving the man as if they’d ever had a conversation together. “OHHH,” a loud wail erupted from his throat, distracting nearly everyone in the room, “charlie, my goat, i miss you,” he babbled, wiping away faux tears before continuing his doomscrolling.
meanwhile, hot tears drip down your cheeks. contractions rush through your body, the urge to push bearing down on your pelvis. “okay push.” you do just as instructed, taking in a deep breath like you’d been advised. slowly, you exhale when you manage to pull upwards, your body slumped against the bed.
the first pushes don’t compare to the pain that you feel when the baby’s head finally starts to crown, when you start to feel yourself getting stretched past your limits. a burn settles in between your thighs, an immense pressure building down on your pelvic floor.
the pain didn’t even come with each push, it came with each contraction that racked your body with a newfound vengeance. pushing came to you like a relief, a reprieve. “head’s out,” you could hear nurses talking amongst themselves, a small sigh leaving your lips. relief filled you instantly, a sign that you were almost done. that your baby was almost out.
a loud shriek pierces through the hospital room, the sound not quite registering in your mind just yet. you blinked and there he was, your baby boy. misty tears clouded your vision, unable to even compute that your boy was just….finally here.
naoya refuses to get anywhere close to the baby, nose scrunching up at the sheer audacity the nurses had to ask of him such a request. “my maid can handle it,” he simply states, said maid quickly scampering off their post to where the baby was being held. with a steady hand, they took a hold of the umbilical cord and snipped it.
the baby is cleaned up, changed into a newborn diaper before it’s handed over to his father. he immediately starts wailing upon being set in naoya’s arms (probably sensing his own father’s malicious aura.) “you wouldn’t want to be like your cousin maki. calm down.”
the baby took that as a protest, only wailing even louder against him. with a critical gaze, naoya starts looking over the baby to see what he could find wrong. what needed to be modified, what he could find that he could blame on you. he only lazily rocks the baby and forth, if only to continue his examination without the baby’s wails ringing in his ear.
“your maxilla is underdeveloped,” naoya mutters to himself, disappointed in a baby who’s been out in the world for maybe five seconds max, “we’ll have to train your masseters to tighten the skin around your bigonial.”
your husband naoya was nothing if not tuned into every looksmaxxing video that popped up on his timeline, gifting nearly all his paycheck into streamers rambling about red-pill politics and conspiracies, weightlifting, and their own twisted ideas of what the ideal woman should be.
not that any of those streamers ever noticed him. never had and probably never will. it didn’t really matter, though. he’d still send in paycheck after paycheck without fail.
one of the nurses standing by takes the baby from his arms, a quiet coo leaving the infant once he was taken away. she went through the clinical assessments needed—measuring, weighing, and finally getting him to drink a bottle of warm milk. for a newborn, he goes down without much trouble.
they turn to address you next. "so throughout these next few weeks, you really want to be taking it easy while your body heals. that means no heavy lifting, no cardio, baths, stairs, sex," your nurse lists off, turning around to grab a pamphlet full of steps you should take at home.
"look, look, when can my woman start working out all that pregnancy fat?" naoya cuts the nurse off with a question of his own, seemingly ignoring every last word she'd just said. rudely, he snatches the pamphlet away from her fingers, reading through it like it insulted the zen’in bloodline.
the nurse in question merely blinks, shock temporarily painting her features before a strained smile plasters itself on her face. “like i said, it’s ideal to wait a few weeks. maybe two or three months.”
—
it's recommended to follow a strict schedule of staying in bed for and yet, that schedule doesn't exist to your husband. he had been more than eager to sign his last name onto the birth certificate before you left the hospital, taking the paper from your hands before you could even look at it.
but when it came to actually being a father, he was completely blind to the responsibility it came with. every time the baby wailed, every time there was a dirty diaper, it was you having to stand up. every time the baby was hungry, it was you. all while still making sure that he was satisfied, that he wasn’t hungry.
the normal rule of thumb would be five days in bed, allowing for your body to heal and for you to bond with the baby, the next five days where you could sit up on the bed, move around a little more on the california king, while the last five days would be where you finally start moving around the house.
you’re lucky if you get five hours to lay down, to finally find a comfortable position to take a short nap in, before your husband’s nudging your shoulder when the baby starts to cry across the hall. every movement sends a surge of pain running straight in between your legs, and yet, you keep moving.
you’re running on fumes and sheer willpower throughout the next few weeks, practically living out of the nursery changing diapers, feeding, calming the baby down. naoya really only came in when you were struggling with the latter, “shut that goddamn baby up. you’re interrupting my stream.”
if it wasn’t dealing with your overgrown man child of a husband, it was the cramps that racked your body each time you came to breastfeed. “as your uterus shrinks back to its normal size, you should experience heavy bleeding,” your ob-gyn explained, “it’s called involution. and as you go through the motions of breastfeeding, oxytocin is released in which is where your cramps come from.”
your own body was trying to kill you, you were certain.
and despite it all, you start settling into your new routine of sleep deprivation in favor of taking care of your newborn girl, catching if only five minutes of rest on the toilet or in the shower at a time. that is, well, before you’re woken up by a shriek shaking each hall of the house, forcing you to get back into your regularly scheduled program.
“put on some makeup, woman. you’re looking horrible,” disgust paints over naoya’s features when he makes the snide comment. you’re aware of you look—eye bags that make you look like the walking dead on your feet, pajamas half stained in baby throw up and milk, yet there’s not much you can do.
you don’t look in the mirror, not wanting to face the reality that naoya might be right.
he starts coming in with lipstick marks staining the collar of his white button down, purplish marks bruising the sides of his neck that he wasn’t even trying to hide. like a middle schooler, for heaven’s sake. smelling like cheap floral perfume and mouthing half assed excuses when he steps into the room.
“start going to the gym if you don’t want me looking for another woman,” he says upon stepping in to your shared bedroom at two in the morning, the man not even bothering to keep his voice down in lieu of the sleeping baby in your arms. he’d barely gone down, putting up a fuss. “you’ve been cleared already, haven’t you?”
a quiet sigh leaves your lips, “yeah, i’ll do that,” you find yourself muttering, “i’ll look for a gym tomorrow.”
“no need. i’ll select the right program for you.”
the logical decision in this moment would be to leave your husband, you know that. the desire’s gnawed deep into your head, each venom-laced word pushing you deeper and deeper to your limit. but you’re also aware of your situation. you’re unemployed, with no prospect of a job so far, with a newborn baby and nowhere to stay.
maybe suguru would let you back in if you asked her—she always did seem to have your wellbeing on the forefront of her mind. but you haven’t spoken to her in years, not since you moved out, not since you sent out a wedding invitation she didn’t respond to. it would be wrong to ask her for a favor all of a sudden.
so you do what you have to for the time being. what you need to do until you can get yourself back up on your feet, until you can make sure you and your baby will be fine if you so much as decide to divorce him. if that means having to go to an overpriced gym with two hours of sleep and a surge of caffeine, then so be it.
—
stepping in through the door, you’re welcome by the sight of women working out on machines, a few standing around talking amongst themselves and sharing tips. the sight catches you off guard if only for a second, surprised that naoya had been considerate enough to get you a membership somewhere you’d be comfortable in.
though deep down, you’re sure he’s insecure enough not to want you working out with a bunch of guys. either way, you’re not really complaining. the atmosphere’s calming, a nice reprieve from testosterone and men trying to prove something to each other. your shoulders instantly fall, a sense of relief washing over you.
“hi, welcome in, i’m manami. what can i help you with?” you’re greeted by a pink haired woman in a black sports bra and a pair of shorts that make her pale legs go on for miles. your eyes nearly boggle out of your head—you’ve only been here for five seconds and surrounded by some of the prettiest women.
you clear your throat, “my husband signed me up for this gym. i’m not sure if i have to register or anything?”
“just sign your name here.” she passes over a clipboard, “and i’ll have to ask for your id to look for you in the system.”
digging through several layers of diapers and baby wipes, you manage to find your id at the bottom. you pass it over, signing yourself in while she types away in her computer. there’s a relaxing song playing in the background, chatter and the sound of weights being set on the racks filling in the rest of the noise.
you might actually like it here.
“okay, i got you all set up in the system,” manami speaks up, looking up from her computer. she passes over your id, gesturing to a private room in the further back of the gym. “you’re scheduled to be with toji. she’ll take good care of you, don’t worry.”
while the rest of the women seem nice enough, some giving you a little smile and a wave as you pass by, you can’t help but feel like you’re out of place. they’re all fit in either a pair of leggings or shorts and a sports bra—while you settled for an old hoodie and a pair of sweats. when’s the last time you’ve been to a gym anyways? maybe two, three years ago? they all seem to know exactly what they’re doing, seem to have a routine all figured out.
deep breath. inhale. exhale. your fingers grasp around the door knob to toji’s room, hand already clammy and sweaty without so much as working out. okay, you got this. on the count of one…two…three.
the door swings open to reveal a room full of heavy lifting equipment, from dumbbells the size of your head to a stairmaster that you dreaded even sparing a glance to. there’s something written on a little whiteboard in the corner of the room, in sloppy handwriting: welcome to toji’s torturous training!
oh great heavens.
your ob-gyn had recommended taking things slow even now that you’ve ‘healed,’ starting your way up from cardio and light weights back into your regular routine. maybe even just light stretches if that’s all you were up to at the time.
not the extreme endurance training program naoya had so graciously signed you up a week ago. you think about turning around, making some dumb excuse about the car breaking down or something when you hear someone call your name out.
in front of you stands what is possibly the prettiest woman you’ve seen.
there’s nothing hesitant about the way that she moves, about the way that she walks as she steps closer to you. she’s self assured, confident. and well, who wouldn’t be? the compression shirt she has on marks every dip and every hard line of muscle in her body, from her biceps nearly bulging out the sleeves to her abdomen—was that an eight pack??
black strands of hair fall from the loose ponytail she put her hair in, framing her face perfectly. emerald eyes glisten underneath the gym lights with something akin to amusement, her scarred lips raising in a smirk. “not thinkin’ of runnin’ away from me just yet, are you?”
“no, of course not!” you let out a nervous laugh, setting your training bag down on the floor. if she sensed your awkwardness, she didn’t say anything about it.
“since you’re a newbie and all, why don’t you go ahead and get started on the treadmill for fifteen minutes as a warm-up?” your heart nearly drops to your ass. that’s the warm-up? you move at a snail’s pace, trudging your way over to the machine before setting it at the lowest setting.
walking fifteen minutes didn’t seem to be too bad. except of course, you didn’t get to walk for more than ten seconds when toji padded next to your area. “you didn’t come here to walk, run for me.” the treadmill beeped with each tap of her fingers, your hands gripping onto the handles as you start to settle into a sprint.
you’re out of breath by the time that the warm-up’s ended, chest heaving and sweat dripping and clinging to your back. plopping down on the cold linoleum floor, you hastily prop open your water bottle and practically gulp half of it down in one go.
toji takes a few steps forward until she hovers right above your field of vision, extending a fluffy white towel your way. a small spark makes itself up your fingertips down to your spine, the shared touch enough to send jolts coursing through your body. you desperately need to get yourself together.
it’s almost infuriating how put together she still is, the woman without so much as breaking a sweat while you were heaving out your lungs. “don’t drink your water so fast,” she warned, lightly pulling your half-empty bottle away, “that’s how you cramp up, wouldn’t want that, right?”
in all honesty, you expected toji to kick you out of her program.
the high endurance training program had been designed to deal with those who didn’t get out of breath going up a flight of stairs, for those who sought out to improve their cardiovascular endurance. you weren’t her target audience by a long mile, you knew that much.
“you wanna tell me why you’re out of breath at the warmup?” she questions, taking a seat in front of you. there’s no judgement in her voice, maybe amusement and a little curiosity, but no, never scrutiny. she takes her towel back, tossing it off to the side.
“i gave birth a couple months ago,” understanding settles in her features when you speak, you decide to continue, “i’m still getting used to moving around again, i’m sorry. i know i’m not exactly what you’re looking for in this program, so i can go ahead and quit if you w-” your rant gets stopped when she places her hand on your shoulder.
“i’m still gonna take care of you, mama. don’t worry your pretty lil’ head about that, we just gotta build up your stamina again,” fuck, how you didn’t wish she was helping you build your stamina in a different way. preferably with you underneath, legs wrapped around her waist while her hands explore every dip of y—
nope. not thinking about your trainer like that. no, no, no, no. you don’t even realize you’re shaking your head until toji raises a brow, “you still wanna quit on me?”
your eyes widen, hands up coming up as you shake your head again. “n-no, not quitting on you. i was just lost in thought, sorry,” you retort with a small, nervous laugh.
“like i said, i’ll get your stamina back up before we get to working on some of the harder stuff.”
—
surprisingly, toji is gentle getting you used to working out again. always starting out with a few minutes on the treadmill, gradually increasing the speed on the machinery before aiding you with a couple stretches.
“juuust a lil’ further,” you hear behind you, her hands gripping your hips. your breath catches in your throat at the sudden proximity, your back going straight as a rim rod. she moves your back leg slowly, forcing you to deepen the stretch you were trying to do. “there we go, sugar. perfect.” you desperately need to change your panties after that day.
and even though naoya had originally planned for this program to make you lose all the weight he deemed unacceptable, toji helped you to embrace it. sure, she still aided you in your goal, but she also gave you tips on how to build muscle. from building up the weights day by day to giving you meal plans with plenty of protein, she was there by your side.
you found yourself looking forward to going, usually being there just when they were opening up. manami had learned your name by now, a couple of the women had decided to invite you out to lunch, and it finally felt like you were starting to be accepted somewhere. and toji, gods toji, you were either delusional or she had a crush just the same way you did her, often saying you a cup of coffee when you came by early, a cookie her son megumi made on your cheat days.
she found every way to keep her hands on you, to have some kind of contact with you too. whether it be adjusting your form even though you’d spent hours browsing through workout videos and apps making sure you got it right to her fingers just lingering a little longer every time she passed you a towel.
seeing her became your favorite part of the day.
—
on valentine’s day, people normally take the initiative to make sure their partners know how appreciated they are. whether it be booking a dinner, whether it just be spending time together, or a simple teddy bear, the day is dedicated to love. and yet, your husband doesn’t so much as greet you when you step out of the house this morning.
last week when you’d brought up going to a restaurant in passing, he’d simply responded, “you’re still losing all that weight, woman. you think i’d go out in public with you?”
you didn’t mention the topic again, not even as a joke.
so you decide to go to the gym today. it’s better than spending your day alone, hoping that your husband would come into the room and pay attention to you. hoping that he’d have something positive to say for once. you’re not really sure where he’s even at, just said he was leaving without saying anything else.
you’re not really sure you want to know either way.
the gym’s relatively empty when you step inside, not even the regulars bothered to come in today. your footsteps echo across the floor, making your way over to toji’s room. you knock on the door once before you’re greeted with the sight of her. she’s in nothing but a skimpy sports bra, tits nearly spilling out of the cups and a pair of sweatpants.
she doesn’t seem surprised to see you and yet she still asks, “what’re you doing here? thought ya might’ve been at home with your husband.”
the mention of naoya, even in passing, is enough to dampen your mood if only temporarily. “my husband isn’t home right now. thought i’d come to see you instead.”
toji merely shrugs, opening the door a little wider. “don’t got anything planned, but start with the treadmill then.”
you make your way onto the treadmill, adjusting the settings before moving in a light jog. it’s easier than breaking out into a full sprint, you come to realize. dispersing your energy throughout the entirety of the run instead of using it all up in the first minute.
it doesn’t feel like your lungs are on the verge of collapse anymore when you step off, drenched in sweat regardless though. you take a few sips of your water, enough to hydrate before setting your cup back down.
“don’t ya wanna take all that off, sugar? you’re drippin’ in sweat,” toji points out, gesturing to the thick hoodie you had on. it did feel like you were on the verge of getting heat stroke, the material only making you sweat even more, but taking it off would mean being exposed.
so you simply shake your head, only pulling down the sleeves of your hoodie even more. as if you could shrink into the earth if given the chance. “my husband wouldn’t think it’s appropriate for me to be showing off a bunch of saggy skin.”
toji takes your face in one hand, calloused from the heavy weights she spends hours lifting but soft, gentle as she cradles your cheek in her palm. her other hand holds a warm towel, her pats gentle against the beads of sweat running down your forehead.
her gorgeous eyes scan your body up and down, and you swear you imagine it, but her gaze lingers just a little bit on your lips. “husband’s an idiot if he doesn’t know how you pretty you are,” she murmurs, the towel discarded haphazardly somewhere behind her.
a second passes by. neither one of you dare to move, to even let out a breath in case the moment passes by. your eyes go down her lips. she stares at you like she wants to devour you. there’s a little voice in the back of your head—telling you all about how guilty you should feel.
and you should. you’re married and you’ve been thinking about this woman bending you like a pretzel. that little voice gets shut down by the sheer desire coursing through your body, by feeling wanted by something other than your vibrator.
sex with naoya had always felt like a chore in its own. like another task to check off a list. it was always about him, about what makes him cum and what he wants to choose. the man refused to do anything other than prodding his fingers in your cunt, giving two lazy pumps before sticking his dick in. and still had the audacity to ask you to eat his ass.
“that’s how a woman shows her true worth to an alpha male.” you’re not sure he’s completely straight.
you lean in, meeting her halfway before your eyes flutter close. the taste of her lips feels better than you’ve imagined, a mix of her cherry chapstick and the fruity shake she has in the mornings. one of her hands moves to the back of your head, the other moving to the small of your back. keeping you impossibly close against her, your lips interlocked and moving in tandem.
a string of saliva connects the two of you when you finally pull away for air, your eyes half lidded. you want more, you want to kiss her again and again. her fingers move down to the hem of your hoodie, your arms coming up as she slides it off your body. “real fuckin’ idiot, you’re so fucking pretty,” she breathes out, your hand coming up to her cheek.
the first exchange between you two had been tentative, a slow test to see how much you were willing to go with. but this was much more needy, much more charged than before. she tugs at your bottom lip, greedily swallowing every broken moan and shaky breath that leaves your lips. her tongue moves into your mouth, exploring before moving against yours.
you want more of her.
slowly, your lips make their way down her body. toji’s head lolls back when your lips move down to her neck, your lips kissing on every inch of skin as you start your descent. you move your tongue across her earlobe, a full body shiver racking through her body. for someone so cocky, she sure is sensitive.
the tip of your tongue darts out, faint hints of salt landing on your tongue with each drop of sweat you lick off her abdomen. you start tracing each one of her abs, tracing each defined ridge. all the while, you work on sliding off your sweats, kicking them off to the side.
toji’s hand comes down to rest on your cheek, an amused smile on her face as she watches you worship every inch of her abdomen and body. “pretty when you do that, sugar.” the praise goes straight to your cunt, your thighs squeezing together to alleviate some of that need. you place little kisses against the beauty marks painting her stomach, laving over the small dots with your tongue and following the trail like a constellation.
you kiss alongside the band of her shorts, lightly tugging the material down with your teeth until you’ve managed to pull them down. she’s wearing a black harness on her hips, each clasp squeezing around her beefy thighs.
“do you always stay strapped up?” you blurt out, a small laugh leaving her lips.
“yeah, i got both on me.” somehow, you don’t doubt she’s being serious. she digs through her equipment bag next to her, weights and dumbbells clattering against one another when she pulls something else out. a double ended dildo the same color of her skin, a couple veins running up the sides of each shaft and about eight inches on each side. you nearly drool at the sight.
“come on, mama. put it on, i’m sure you got it.” you take the dildo from her hands, sliding the base onto the ‘o’ shaped hole in front. running one side of the dildo against her slick folds, her juices glistening underneath the light. “fuck, keep goin’. slide it in,” and you, you start sliding inch by inch into her cunt, watching her puffy walls clench around the toy stretching her out, “just like that, push all of it in.”
you’re not sure when’s the last time you ever felt so wanted. not with your husband, that’s for sure. maybe with sukuna or suguru? you still remember how passionate both of them had been, how sukuna fucked like she wanted to ruin everyone else after. how suguru worked you up just to edge you, just to keep you wanting more.
but neither of them could’ve prepared you for how you feel now.
either way, you’re eager to please the beautiful woman in front of you. your hands move to her glutes, muscles firm in between your palms. your fingers squish at the flesh, kneading her thick ass in between your palms. your lips press against her inner thighs, kissing against the tightly corded muscles before making your way to her dick.
and then, toji holds up you up like you weigh nothing. one second you’re on your knees, ready to suck and the next you’re upside down, blood rushing to your head with a plastic dick swinging back and forth in your face. her fingers slide your panties down (up? from this angle, you’re not sure), tossing them aside.
“open up wiiiide, yeah, just like that, sugar.” your lips part open, tongue flat, while her hips slowly bucking the strap into your awaiting mouth. she fucks herself onto the other side of the strap, pushing the dildo in and outtt of her slick cunt.
“mmm—oh fuck!” she starts off the same teasing, torturous way that you did. pressing kiss after kiss on your inner thighs before licking a thick stripe from your dripping hole up to your aching clit. the tip of her tongue traces your slick folds, “taste so fucking good. pussy like this should be worshipped.”
you wrap your lips around the silicone tip, strings of saliva dripping from the corners of your mouth. your tongue swirls around the flesh colored plastic, flat as you lick a stripe on the underside. starting from the base up to the tip before you wrap your lips around it again, head bobbing as you take more and more of her in.
slick glistens on her face as toji rocks you back and forth against her, smearing your juices across her chin and her lips. she spits a messy glob of saliva onto your cunt, your walls clenching around absolutely before she’s lapping it back up again. swiping her tongue uppp and downn like a credit card, tasting every drop dripping out.
her lips wrap around your clit, lightly suctioning around the nub. her tongue rolls around in tight, little circles, toes curling in your beaters. two fingers take place where her tongue was dipping in, pushing in past that original resistance before curling an inch in. hitting your g-spot like she personally had a gps for it.
“aah—fuck! toji, toji, fuck!” you mewl, nails digging into her thighs. you’re overwhelmed with pleasure, almost forgetting you’re supposed to be sucking the strap. but how could you focus when she’s eating you out like a five course meal? her fingers pump in and out of you quickly, that little coil in your belly starting to tighten up.
your throat relaxes, taking more and more of her length in your mouth. globs of spit dribble around the shaft, the plastic glistening underneath the harsh gym lights every time you pull away. her hips start thrusting again, fucking the strap into your mouth and against herself. “take that fucking dick, just like that, fucking made for this.”
toji ruts the strap deeper and deeper into the wet cavern of your mouth, your cheeks hollowing out to take in inch by inch. you pull off with a wet pop, your head bobbing around her cock while one of your hands comes around to squeeze around the base. your eyes flutter shut, drooling around the strap the further it slips down your throat.
“cum for me, mama. i got you, toji’s got you, take what you need, there ya gooo,” she all but talks you during your orgasm, drawing out little moans from you in response.
your legs quiver and shake with your impending orgasm, your nails digging crescents onto the flesh of her thick thighs. it’s all just muscle underneath your fingertips. “f-fuck, toji, fuck, gonna cum,” you whine around the tip, her grip on your legs tightening.
her tongue rolls around your sensitive clit, her fingers prod against that spot inside, your orgasm washing over you like a wave seconds after. “oh fuck!” you tighten around her fingers impossibly so before clear spurts of your release coat them completely. toji doesn’t hesitate in taking her fingers out, her tongue greedily swiping across each digit to get every drop.
that’s not enough to satiate her. “fuuuuck, you taste too good,” it comes out as a muffled groan spoken into your cunt, her jaw slack as she licks away every last remaining drop. it’s only after she’s finished with her fill that she sets you down, your hand tightly wrapped around her wrist while you get over your dizziness.
the two of you are in front of a mirror, one you’re not exactly keen on looking at. toji moves behind you, swiping the saliva coated strap in between your folds. you let out a pathetic moan when the tip catches onto your clit, your back melting against her chest. “can i fuck you?” the question catches you off guard.
you nod, slightly out of breath as you respond, “please.”
she moves the strap in between once more before slipping it in your hole, slowly pushing the tip in. your hands come up in front of you, fingertips smudging the glass in front of you. inch by inch, she slowly starts to push the dildo in, a broken gasp leaving you when she bottoms out. she doesn’t move just yet, pressing kisses against your shoulder.
there’s nothing rushed about the way that she moves at all, nothing that indicated she wasn’t savoring this moment just as you were. toji starts off slow, pulling out before stuffing you back completely, going deep and slow. her hands grip your hips, your walls stretching around the dildo with each thrust.
toji holds your head in between her biceps, her arm lazily curling upward to keep you in place. to keep your half lidded-gaze staring at your reflection in the mirror. she starts moving faster, her hips snapping against yours until that’s all you can hear other than the blood rushing through your head. you refuse to look at yourself in the mirror for too long, though.
she only squeezes her biceps around your head, forcing to you to move your head up.
she tilts your head back to the glass when she catches sight of it. “there we go. look at yourself, look at how pretty you are,” her voice drops to a low purr right by your ear, “tell me how pretty you are or i’ll stop.”
“i-i’m…” you trail off, your gaze wavering from the mirror. toji squeezes her bicep around your head, veins bulging as she keeps you in a tight grip. “i’m pretty.”
toji lets out a quiet tut, shaking her head as her thrusts came to a complete stop. the loss of friction had a whine ripping from your throat, your walls clenching tightly around the dildo. she only ground her hips against her side of the strap, fucking herself onto the dildo stuffed inside. “say it like you mean it, mama,” the command came out like a breathy whisper on the side of your neck.
naoya had conditioned you to believe you weren’t beautiful, that you were lucky that he even bothered to lower his standards enough to date you. he kept you wanting, with breadcrumbs of little compliments occasionally scattered around—“you don’t look so bad today.” or “the makeup’s finally starting to make its effect.”
but when toji looked at you like this, like you were something worth revering, like every inch of you was perfect, you wanted to believe that you were. you didn’t notice all the imperfections naoya had pointed out, you noticed the hard work that you’ve been putting into.
“i’m pretty.”
“damn right you are. prettiest woman around here,” her hips snapped against yours, that relentless pace from before picking back up. you were close but so was she, fucking herself desperately onto the six inches stuffed inside of her cunt. she moves your head to turn to her, meeting your lips in a kiss that’s nothing but tongue and teeth. nothing but desperation and need.
her lips trail down, biting down on your neck enough to leave a deep bruise before her hands come up to your tits. she squeezes the pebbled nubs before her mouth latches onto one hungrily, swirling and laving her tongue around your areola. “wait—” you don’t get a chance to finish your warning, milk dropping onto her expecting tongue.
“taste good all over, fuuuck,” toji sounds completely at bliss, her eyes fluttered shut as she laps at every drop of pearly white milk spilling from your tits. she sucks on your left before moving to your right, giving them both the same amount of devotion. your cunt squelch squelches with each of her thrusts, your hips rocking yourself back onto her.
one of toji’s hands moves in between your legs, fingertips rubbing against your clit in quick, little circles. you shake and writhe around her strap, unable to keep your attention on the mirror. “look at yourself while i fuck you,” she orders behind you, your eyes darting back up to the mirror. she’s looking at you through the glass, sweat dripping across her forehead as she pushed you closer to your orgasm.
“o-oh shiiit gonna cum, gonna cum!” your vision nearly blanks with the intensity of your orgasm, the stimulation to your sensitive tits, to your clit, to your cunt, pushing you well past the edge. your body racks with aftershocks well after, your release coating the strap in a translucent slick. it doesn’t take toji that long to reach her orgasm either, her thrusts stuttering until she comes with a shaky moan.
neither one of you move for a second. toji keeps you close to her body, her breathing ragged and her heartbeat syncing up with yours. “you’re so perfect, mama,” she murmurs against your shoulder, biting down. she slides the strap off carefully, holding eye contact with you as she sucks your juices off the plastic. savoring it like a michelin three star meal.
—
getting back home, you sit in the parking lot for just a few minutes. divorce papers sit on your lap, the decision weighing heavy on your mind. mostly about how it’s going to impact you. how it’s going to impact the baby. there’s no love between you and naoya, there hasn’t been in a while and you’re not sure it ever really was there.
you suppose that’s good enough reason to leave him.
he’s not home when you step inside, making this decision all that much easier. you slip off your wedding band, leaving it on top of the papers before making quick work of packing up what little stuff you do have in your closet. the baby’s better off with the zen’in clan, you’re sure of that—he’d be treated like royalty just for being naoya’s son.
now it’s up to you to decide where the hell you’re going to live, how the hell you’re going to pick yourself back up after depending on naoya for so long.
dating isn’t on your agenda in the meantime, not while you’re still dealing with the aftermath of your ex husband and his crazy family. toji had been a fun experience—she’d helped you gain your confidence back and gave you a good orgasm in exchange.
𝜗𝜚 you turn toji’s dick into a literal snack, and it might be the best idea ever ! part one
( mdni. cw: sloppy blowjob, foodplay, spit/cumplay, reader is a little unhinged but honestly, same )
“you were serious about this?” toji asks, eyeing the can of whipped cream in your hand like it’s a weapon.
you just smile up at him sweetly from between his legs. “you said i could.”
“i was half-fuckin’-asleep when you asked.”
“and i was fully ready to squirt whipped cream on your cock,” you reply, popping the cap off the can with dramatic flair. “so. stay still.”
he huffs— but leans back against the pillows, legs spread, cock already semi-hard and resting heavy against his thigh. he watches you with that half amused, half terrified look like he can’t decide if he’s about to cum or cry.
“you’re so fuckin’ weird,” he mutters.
“and you’re so fuckin’ pretty,” you grin, giving his length a few lazy pumps. “got the best dick ever, ‘ji. dessert-worthy.”
toji’s cock twitches in your hand.
“don’t say that while you’re holding whipped cream.”
you giggle, then shake the can. pfffft— the first swirl lands right across the thick crown of his cock, slow and sweet, just messy enough to drip. you add another squiggle down the shaft, then some along the base— right where his bush is full and dark, curling around the cream like garnish.
he exhales sharp. “jesus christ.”
“wait, wait- one more thing.”
you reach behind you and hold up the jar of rainbow sprinkles.
“baby,” he warns.
you just sprinkle them gently over the whipped cream, watching some land in the fluff, others bounce off his balls.
“…you are not well,” toji mutters, voice tight.
“and you’re not ready,” you purr, licking a fat stripe up the side of his cream-covered cock.
toji’s head tips back with a groan.
it’s sweet. rich. cold. your tongue melts the whipped cream as you drag it up the underside of his shaft, collecting sprinkles with your lips, some sticking to your chin. your mouth closes over the tip, warm and wet and slow, sucking the dessert right off of him with a soft slurp!
his hips twitch. “f-fuckk.”
you hum around him, swirling your tongue through cream and precum. your jaw moves steady, the sounds obscene— slick, slurpy, sticky as you take more, messier now, spit pooling beneath your tongue, a sprinkle clinging to the corner of your mouth.
“mmphhh—” you gag softly as he presses deeper, whipped cream smeared across your lips now, some dribbling down your chin.
“look at you,” he groans, watching the swirl collapse beneath your mouth, his cock shiny and wet with spit and sugar. “makin’ a fuckin’ mess…”
your nose brushes his bush again. it’s damp from cream, sticky with heat, and you inhale shakily as your throat clenches around him.
you whimper and bob harder, tongue pressed flat, cream long gone now but the taste of him, salt and sugar, coats your whole mouth. he twitches, groans deep from his chest, and finally spills across your tongue, thick and hot, some leaking out with the last remnants of whipped cream, trailing down in sticky globs.
you blink up at him, lips swollen, face a wreck.
“…you’re sick,” he whispers.
you smile, all smug and sparkly-eyed, wiping your chin with your fingers before sucking them clean.
“i know,” you giggle. “but that was fun, right?”
toji just stares at you. then grabs the whipped cream and mutters, “my turn.”
this genuinely might js be the most unserious shi i’ve ever made 😹😹😹
husband!toji loves spanking you when you don't wear your ring...
truth be told, you do it on purpose. this isn't the first time he's bent you over for this reason, and it surely won't be the last.
"told you" smack! "not to" smack! "try this shit" smack! "again." smaaack! your pretty, tear covered face is pushed into the couch cushions, warm leather and toji's musk filling your nose. he's got you bent over his lap, ass high in the air, perfect for hitting.
how gravelly his voice gets when he's angry and turned on never ceases to make your panties wet. his boner is pressing into your tummy. knowing how much it turns him on when you misbehave, it's a surprise he actually expects you to listen to him.
"you know i don't like other guys hitting on you. that's my job." 'that's why i do it,' you think. you wiggle your ass at him in response, mainly because you can't use your mouth.
of course, it sets him alight (and makes his dick twitch a bit) "you think this is funny? do it again. i dare you."
everyone knows you don't say no to dares. you shake your ass again, but not without a giggle. considering the angry huff your husband let out, maybe it wasn't a good idea. you'll never know though, because he's already grabbed a fistful of your hair, strong hands yanking your head out the cushions.
the spanks that follow are unforgiving. the living room echoes with each impact, makes the flesh of your ass ripple before and after the next.
"bet this is what you want all those guys to do, huh?" you can't tell if he's saying it more to your or himself, voice low and pointed. "lookin' at my fuckin' wife."
"no toji, no," you whimper. "fucking liar." smack! "admit you do it for attention, now." "you weakly shake your head, motions stifled by the hand in your hair. "you want me to spank this pussy next?" your pussy's saying yes, your head is shaking no.
he doesn't give you time to reply, spanking hand moving to pull down your wetting panties. the cool air his your slit making you shiver. "fuck... look how pretty she is," he says, hypnotized. he shakes his head, snapping himself out of it. "too bad i have to spank her."
your slick and his hand make for a loud, filthy sound when he hits the soft skin. "toji! stop it!" "not until you admit it," he groans in your ear.
reluctantly, and with a tear or two, you say it: "i don't wear my ring for attention!" you whimper out. immediately, his motions stop. he's letting go of your hair, keeping you up by a loose grip on your neck instead.
"that's what i like to hear." his large thumb is caressing your cheek, gripping and rubbing that sting out. "there there, shh," he coos, attempting to stop the pain he caused. "if you just said it first, we wouldn't have this problem." still being a bastard, though.
"we both know that's a lie, toji." he grins at your little sniffle. "maybe i am lying." he knows he is. "well then, you need to apologize for it." his eyebrow quirks up, signature move for 'what the hell are you talking about.'
"and how should i apologize, wifey?" his rubbing motions have stopped, going back to massaging the doughy flesh like bread. "well," you say, wincing, "you could start by showing me what's in those boxers. it's been poking me this whole time."
the air becomes hot, like the ac is listening in. "only if you put the ring on." his eyes are clouded, knowing he's about to take his wife. "you can slide it on when you make me cum," you retort.
smiling, he picks you up, bare feet padding across the floor to the bedroom. it's things like that, silent 'yes's that made you fall in love with him. your pussy throbs against him, knowing it's about to be turned out by your hot husband.
you’re not counting, but there’s no need— every sunday evening, without fail, when megumi’s dropped off at your front door with his little backpack and scuffed sneakers, he’s right behind him. leaning against the frame as if he owns the place, all casual arrogance and bored glances, pretending he’s not eye-fucking you the second your son turns away.
toji fushiguro. your ex-husband and biggest fucking mistake. tall, broad, shameless. wears that stupid chain, chews gum like a delinquent, licks his teeth when he’s pissed. and god, he’s pissed a lot— scowling, jaw tense, watching you like he wants to spit in your mouth and call it closure.
you keep things civil. surface-level. polite, even— because it’s megumi. because you’ve made peace with the fact that you’ll always have this one thing tethering you together. you hand off the overnight bag. he hands off the attitude. sometimes you talk about school, allergies, schedules. sometimes he mutters shit like, “still don’t know why you left when you keep dressing like that,” and you bite your tongue so hard it aches.
you don’t fight anymore. that’s the rule.
until tonight.
“date go well?”
you freeze mid-step, the takeout bag in your hand crinkling. you don’t turn around. “what?”
“megumi told me,” he says from behind you, voice low and flat. “some guy picked you up. said he had flowers. cologne. nice car.”
you close your eyes, inhale slowly. of course he did.
“we went for dinner. nothing serious.”
“hm,” he hums. you can hear the crack of his gum. “he kiss you?”
your fingers tighten around the bag. “that’s none of your business.”
he laughs— low, sharp, ugly. “funny. didn’t know other men liked their mouths on used pussy.”
you whip around, slapping him before you can think. hard. the sound echoes in the entryway.
he doesn’t even flinch.
just tilts his head, jaw flexing, tongue running across his bottom lip. and then he’s moving— slowly crowding into your space until your back hits the wall and the food hits the floor.
“you done?” he asks, voice calm, hand on your waist like he’s done this a hundred times. “or you wanna hit me again before i fuck the attitude out of you?”
you breathe hard. you should shove him. scream. kick his ass out.
but your thighs are already clenching.
it’s toji— warm and big and dangerously familiar, his breath brushing your cheek, steady and unbothered. you hate him— you hate him— but you still dream about the way he used to fuck you like it was his goddamn right.
“fuck you,” you whisper.
his grin is slow and mean. “you will.”
+
you don’t remember how you ended up bent over the kitchen counter, panties shoved to the side, his fingers shoved in your mouth to keep you quiet, saliva already pooling on your tongue from how deep he forces them in. your cheek is pressed to the cool surface, breath stuttering, hips pinned back against him while he crowds over you like there’s nowhere left to run.
“two fuckin’ years,” he mutters, cock grinding against your slit, thick and heavy and leaking against your folds, smearing slick up and down until you twitch. “two years and you still get wet like this for me. pathetic.” he drags the head through your mess again, unhurried, purposeful, making you feel every second of it, and your thighs tremble around nothing.
you try to turn your head, muffle something unintelligible that sounds like “don’t—” but he grabs your jaw, forces you still, and spits directly in your mouth.
you gasp, choke on it— and he uses it, of course he does. leans down, tongue sliding over yours, licking it up with a low, filthy groan, his cock twitching against your entrance as your body jolts. “fuck,” he breathes against your lips, “still take me so easy.”
“no running this time,” he growls, voice dropping as he lines himself up, thick tip nudging at your entrance, pressing just enough to make a tiny you whine escape you. “you hear me? you take it. every inch.”
and you try. you really do.
but he’s already pushing in, splitting you open raw and thick and ruthless from the first thrust, no warning, no patience— just taking. he buries himself to the base in one hard snap of his hips, forcing a broken, muffled moan out of you, “mnn- ahh—!” your fingers clawing uselessly at the counter as your body jolts forward. the stretch burns, too much, too sudden, and he just stays there for a second, seated deep, wanting you to feel every inch of him lodged inside you.
“shit,” he groans, low and wrecked, “still so fuckin’ tight, fuck—”
then he moves.
hard. fast. relentless.
the slap of his hips echoes through the kitchen, sharp and wet and filthy, each thrust stealing the airw from your lungs while your moans break around a sob, drool slipping down your chin. “ah- ahh- f-fuck—!” it spills out anyway, messy and high, your body jerking with every deep drag of his cock as he fucks into you like he’s pissed off, like he’s punishing you for something you don’t even remember doing.
“this pussy’s mine,” he snarls, yanking your head back by your hair so your spine arches, forcing you deeper onto him. “doesn’t matter how many dates you go on. this—” he slams into you harder, knocking another choked cry out of you, “—belongs to me.”
you legs give out completely, knees buckling, but he doesn’t care. he just hauls one up, plants your foot on the counter, spreading you wider, folding you open so he can hit deeper, rougher— so deep it makes your stomach twist.
“look at you,” he pants, pace turning sloppy and heavy, “creamin’ on my cock already. fuckin’ mess- shit, listen to that.” his hand presses against your lower stomach, as if he can feel himself moving inside you, and the thought makes you whimper, broken. “you missed this, didn’t you? mmh, fuck, missed this fat cock stretchin’ you open, knockin’ the attitude outta you.”
you sob something like a yes, thoroughly wrecked, dissolving into breathy, dragged-out moans, “y-yes- hah- ahh—!” already unraveling, teetering on the edge, and he knows. he always knows. his hand slips down, fingers finding your clit, rubbing messy, unforgiving circles that make your whole body spasm.
“there it is,” he murmurs, almost mocking, overly pleased. “go on. cum on it.”
and you do.
you cum so hard your vision goes white, thighs shaking, a broken cry tearing out of you as your body clenches around him, pulsing, dragging him deeper while your back arches and your hands slip against the counter.
and he doesn’t stop.
he never stops.
not when you squirm. not when you whimper. not when your voice goes soft and desperate, “t-toji, too much- mmh—!” not even when you sob into your arms and try to crawl away, hips twitching like you can escape the way he keeps dragging you back onto his cock.
“nuh-uh,” he grunts, grip bruising as he hauls you back, fucking you deeper, harder, like he’s chasing something. “where you goin’, huh? not done with you.” his pace turns mean all over again, each thrust punching a moan out of you. “you wanted to play house with someone else? go on lil’ dates like i’m dead?”
he leans over you, chest pressed to your back, mouth at your ear, breath hot and rough as his hips snap into yours.
“nah,” he mutters, “i’m right here, baby. mmh- fuck- i’m right here…” another deep thrust, making you cry out, “…and i’m not leavin’ till this cunt learns who she fuckin’ belongs to.”
Summary: In a world where vampiric royals rule and fight for dominion over humankind, you were the Grand Duchess of Gresit, fighting every day for the safety and prosperity of your people. But as the wheel of fates turn and beckon you into the enshrouded dangers of vampiric high society, you have no choice but to abide - no matter the cost. Be it your happiness, or your life.
Trigger Warnings: blood/gore/violence, explicit language, arranged marriages, polyamory, adrian(alucard) and daivian(d) are half-brothers, explicit sexual content, virginity/concept of virginity loss, blood drinking, f!masturbation, m!masturbation, f!oral recieving, m!oral recieving, vaginal sex, anal sex, threesomes, period sex, sex + blood drinking, discussions of "heirs" - no pregnancy, and more. I will tag as I go. Viewer discretion advised - MDNI
A/N: Well, well, well. Lookie here. Am I back? Yes! Did I start a brand new fic series despite not finishing the other new ones I started? Also yes! 🤭 LMAO
Anyways, I am so excited to begin sharing this story with you all. This fic is dedicated to my friend @erusanya who introduced me to VHD Bloodlust a few weeks ago and needless to say, I am obssessed. Girl, without you, this fic would not exist. You have helped me so much over these last few weeks with all of the planning and brainstorming and I don't have the words to tell you how much it means to me. You inspire me to be the best writer and storyteller I can possibly be. MUAH 🥬🫂🫶🏼
I hope you all enjoy 🙏💕🌿
masterlist
March, 7th era of Morningstar
IN THE BLUSHING LIGHT OF BREAKING DAWN, the province began to rouse itself from deep and restorative slumber. The sapphire waters of the port that opened up into the Wide Sea had already begun to fill with ships just as the forum began to bustle to life with the arrival of merchants and prospective customers. You could see the slow crawl of daily life beginning to take shape from the hill upon which you stood, overlooking the large valley that the province of Gresit was nestled in.
It had been more than twenty years since the near and total destruction of the province, the fateful night where the mysterious blood moon filled the sky and rogue vampires descended from the surrounding forests and slaughtered all who they laid eyes upon. You were barely out of toddlerhood then, borne to the noble family, yet orphaned soon after your arrival into the world. Your parents, who were the Grand Duke and Duchess, had been two of countless lives that had perished that night. Had it not been for their trusted and dearest friend, one Ser Juste of the Knights of the Hold, who vowed to protect you until his dying breath and hid you away with his grandson Trevor and his dear friend Sypha, you would have all met the same cruel, bloody fate. Though it had taken nearly a decade for the province to begin rebuilding from the bloodied ashes of the fallen, you could not be prouder of the resilience of your people and their desire to begin anew, no matter how long it took for them to rebuild their greatness.
When the first of the many ships sailing from across the continents finally arrived in port, you began the journey from the mountain top to return to your ancestral estate. You had woken in the hour before first light, your heart and soul craving fresh air to fill your lungs and for your body to connect with the awaking thrum of spring. For nearly three days you had been plagued with restless sleep, your mind constantly whirling with all the tasks and responsibilities you had to complete as the arrival of spring drew closer and closer. It was the busiest time of year for the province as preparations for farming, building, fishing, and hunting season were promptly underway. While most of your people and inner council were busy tending to the tasks in the great outdoors, you were sequestered to your study to balance the ledgers and ensure that every citizen was paid more than their fair dues, along with cataloging every single shipment that came in or out of the province.
You silently began the descent down the winding path towards your home, the sweet melody of birdsong and the buzzing of insects floating on the gentle whisper of wind, bringing with it the scent of fresh wildflowers blooming in the surrounding landscape beyond. You walked in an unhurried stride, your bare feet kissing the cool grass beneath, your slippers held securely in your nondominant hand. With your other you clutched your cotton skirts just above your heel, taking care as to not break any flower-head blossoms with the weight of your hem.
"Grand rising, your Grace!"
You peered up, a gentle smile forming on your face as you took in the two young warriors who began to make their way to you as they crossed the familiar iron gates of the estate. The young woman, whose dark skin glowed against the gold and white blouse she wore smiled widely as your eyes met the deep brown of her own. The young man beside her, whose blue gaze brightened when he recognized you, was dressed a similar fashion, but in pale blue.
"Grand rising, Annette, Richter. Are you off on patrol?"
Annette nodded, the movement causing the golden beads woven into her dark locs to gleam in the brightening light of the rising sun. "We are, yes."
"Were you out for your morning stroll, your Grace?" Richter questioned curiously, eyeing the slippers in your hand.
"I was," you hummed in confirmation, gracefully bending to place your shoes upon the ground and slip back into them, "it is a beautiful day for a stroll, after all. Tell me, how goes the construction of your new abode? I trust that if either of you need anything, you will let me know."
"It is coming along swimmingly, your Grace." Richter beamed.
"We anticipate its completion before the arrival of summer." Annette continued, her own brilliant smile gracing her beautiful face.
You hummed in genuine excitement. "I am glad to hear it! We shall host a welcome-home ceremony for you both once you are ready to receive guests."
Their expressions brightened even more as they voiced their own excitement at the prospect before bowing and bidding you farewell. You called out after them, wishing them both a safe return before continuing on your path once more. Upon your arrival back in the estate, the footmen and other servants welcomed you back as you crossed the threshold into the foyer. At once your eyes settled on your head forewoman who stood waiting patiently, her brown hair falling over her left shoulder, accenting the olive and brown blonde and trousers she wore.
"Grand rising, your Grace."
"Grand rising, Greta," you inclined your chin, your smile broadening, "would you like to join me at breakfast? I wish to hear about the progress on the aqueduct project."
"That would be lovely, your Grace. I'm starved."
You looped your arm through her own as made your way to the dining room, your slippers lightly clicking against the wooden floorboards as you went. Upon reaching the dining room you beckoned for Greta to sit and begin to fill her plate with the freshly baked goods upon the table as you served her a steaming cup of tea. Over the clinking of silverware, you talked about every detail of the most pressing projects and feature endeavors you wished to fund. When every official matter had been settled to the best of your ability, the flow of conversation changed into that of more enjoyable nature.
"The woodworkers have started to build the pyre for the equinox bonfire," she stated when you had gotten up to serve her a glass of wine upon completion of your meals, "and the children are busy as bees finishing the decorations. They can hardly contain their excitement."
You laughed gently and sat back down in your chair and sipped from your own glass. "Imagine their surprise when we present the cake this year. Gods, I can't wait to see all their happy faces. I-"
"Apologies for the interruption, your Grace, but it is most urgent."
You peered up immediately to meet the wild gaze of one of your valets, Briar, whose brown eyes were wide with trepidation. Your smile fell as you stood, carefully settling the glass of wine upon the table as you did so. "All is well, Briar. What is it?"
The elder man's face paled even more as he wavered slightly before shakily extending what he held in his white-gloved hand. A flash of crimson revealed an envelope, its edges embellished with fine, black bordering. Your eyebrows furrowed before you carefully reached out to take it, your heart lurching the moment your eyes settled upon the black and red-flecked wax of the royal seal.
Your eyes sharply snapped up to meet the ashen face of the valet. "When was this delivered?"
"Just now, your Grace."
"By whom? A courier from Targoviste?"
"Not exactly, your Grace."
"What is it?" Greta stood from the table, the slight screeching of the chair against the wooden floorboards grating to your fraying nerves.
You shook your head, unable to answer her. "Briair, who delivered the parcel?"
He shifted uneasily on his feet. "A courier from the Grand Palace, your Grace."
You froze, the envelope in your hand suddenly feeling as if it was as heavy as iron. "From the palace? Are they still here? You must inform them-"
"I cannot, your Grace. They have already departed."
You took a half-step backward, attempting to keep your breathing as even as possible. With an overly controlled inhale you turned your back towards him and crossed the distance to where an unused dining knife sat at the edge of the table. Carefully you placed the sharpest edge along the parcel's seams so that it could part the wax without damaging the parchment. It gave away easily, and with a shaky breath, you began to read.
Grand Duchess of Gresit,
You are hereby summoned the Grand Palace to attend this year's Spring Equinox Ball. All are instructed to arrive within the fortnight for a week of celebration. We are most eager to finally make your acquaintance.
Yours truly,
The Great Sovereigns of the Kingdom of Wallachia, High King Dracula and High Queen Lisa
You stared at the neat scrawl, a disorienting wash of disbelief and confusion flooding over you like a tidal wave. The floor itself felt like it had given out beneath your feet, the sensation causing your heart to free-fall painfully into your stomach.
"Duchess?"
You blinked before meeting the worried expressions of your staff, and with every ounce of your self-control, you feigned a reassuring smile. "Briar, would you be so kind to inform Sypha and Trevor that they are needed in my study? Please tell them it is a matter of great import."
The valet bowed immediately. "At once, your Grace."
You kept the smile painted on your lips as he turned and left before facing Greta. "My sincerest apologies, my friend. I must depart and attend to other matters. Please feel at liberty to finish and graze as much as you'd like before returning to your duties."
The brown-eyed woman tilted her head, a grateful smile gracing her face. "That is kind of you, your Grace. But as your responsibilities beckon, so do mine. I shall see you this evening at dinner."
Your smile tightened. "Yes, of course. Good day, my friend."
You did not allow yourself to take a single breath until her footsteps faded away completely. When you were sure no other soul was around, your hands found the nearest sill of the wall of windows, your forehead pressing against the semi-cool glass.
"Calm down, breathe," you rasped quietly, closing your eyes tightly as your vision begin to swim, your chest continuing to rise and fall in rapid succession. "Get ahold of yourself."
You forced another round of deep breaths before the violent stuttering of your heart gave way to a gentler pulse. When your mind and breath returned to center, you pushed yourself from the window and immediately headed in the direction of your study. It was less than a moment after you stepped across the threshold did a soft knock on the doorframe steal your attention from gazing dazedly at the crimson parchment held tightly in your grasp.
"Your Grace?" Sypha's voice pulled you from your thoughts as she and Trevor entered, closing the wooden door quietly behind them, their faces contorted with intrigue. "You wished to see us?"
You finally managed to tear your eyes from the envelope before settling onto their radiant figures. Not only were Sypha Belnades and Trevor Belmont your nearest and dearest friends, but they were your most trusted advisors. Sypha, who belonged to the renown clan of the Coderii Speakers, the finest scholars in all the continent, who acted as your voice of reason. She was clad in a sky-blue gown; the hem embroidered with the silver lacing in the traditional style of her people. Trevor, a warrior and descendent of the Knights of the Hold, acted as your personal guard, but more so, ensured that the province was protected from brigands, thieves, and vampires alike. Ever the practical man, he donned his usual black and grey outfit that allowed for unrestricted movement, his sword and whip secured at his side.
They had both stood by you in the wake of your family's destruction and in the aftermath where the title of Grand Duchess was thrust upon you, as were all the expectations and responsibilities that came with the name. But with them by your side, you did not flounder, and instead, with their support and guidance, you were able to support the people of Gresit and give them a hope for a new dawn.
"Yes." you steadied yourself against the edge of the desk as they crossed the distance between you.
"You look as if you have seen a ghost." Trevor observed as he rolled his shoulders and sat against the plush velvet chair, eyebrows raised in question. "What is it? Did someone die? Or have the shipments from Sedoc been delayed?"
You took a single steadying breath before holding the letter up just enough for the royal seal to be revealed. "I have received a letter from the Grand Palace. It is signed by the High King and Queen."
A sharp, deafening silence descended upon the room.
"W-What?" Sypha whispered with wide eyes, her gaze falling onto the parchment and broken seal.
"What the bloody hell could they want?" Trevor scoffed, eyebrows furrowing. "The last time we received a letter from the capital, it was a declaration of war with Dilezan and Barbarois."
You dipped your chin. "It is a formal summons to the Spring Equinox Ball."
"A what?" the warrior startled, leaning forward on his knees, his face pinched with violent confusion. You wordlessly extended the parchment in his direction, your eyes finding Sypha the moment Trevor took it from your grasp. Her turquoise gaze was still wide, but swirling within their depths was the thoughtful calculations of a cunning diplomat, no doubt attempting to deign the true nature of the unexpected show of diplomacy.
"After all this time, why now? What do you think it means?" Sypha questioned as she began to read over the neat scrawl of writing after Trevor leaned over and handed it to her.
"Nothing good." he grumbled with a curse before crossing his arms over his chest and met your eyes, the movements causing his leather armor to strain against his broad chest. "How long has it been since our people were extended an invitation to the Grand Palace? Nearly two centuries, if not more. And now, suddenly by the grace of the gods we are commanded to attend an event solely meant for vampiric high society? Hosted by none other than Vlad bloody Tepes - the king of killing people - and his fanged family. That is an obvious trap that leads to a brutal, torturous death if I've ever heard of one."
"High Queen Lisa is human, Trevor." Sypha corrected with a pointed look. "Or have you forgotten?"
He scoffed before shaking his head. "Oh, right. As if that makes a bloody difference and a half. The foreign human princess sold off by her own kingdom in attempt to tame the most murderous man in the world in exchange for what was it again? 'A pursuit of a world of co-existence?' And look where that failed experiment has led to. Need I remind you both, our High King ended centuries of peace between the continents and has only furthered and strengthened the war efforts for his kingdom of bloodsuckers. The same King of Kings who has all but left us here to starve and fend for ourselves for nearly twenty years after a slaughter his kind are guilty of."
For a moment you said nothing, your frown deepening as you watched him intently. It wasn't until he took a deep breath and rubbed a calloused hand down his face did you begin to reply. "I am well aware of the histories, Belmont. But answer me this, do you truly believe we have the liberty to decline?"
He made an indignant sound at the back of his throat. "If the choice is between willingly walking into a trap to be ripped apart by bloodthirsty monsters or stay here and protect our people, I will always choose the latter."
You hummed, the sound barely audible before you turned. "And you? What are you thinking, Sypha?"
She sat up in her chair, the glittering grey of her dress glinting like starlight in the pale rays of morning sun that filtered in from the wall of windows behind you.
"It is unsettling, to be sure." she began carefully, briefly glancing at the Belmont warrior before meeting your eyes again. "But as you said, I do not believe we have a choice. There is no telling what repercussions and punishments the people of Gresit would face if we do not attend. There have been villages razed to the ground for less."
"If the province was to be attacked, we would take a stand and defend it." Trevor caught her eyes before peering back at you. "We would fight for you and every person under our care until the end."
You did not speak as you pushed off the edge of the desk and rounded it once more, your eyes now settling onto the windows and taking in the rolling hills, teeming forests, and the distant glittering of the small seaport and town square beyond. You could feel both of their eyes on you, the weight of their stares nearly as evident as the pressure of the corset pressing against your ribs.
"I understand your concern, Trevor," you finally began evenly before turning to face him, "but I must posit you this question. As you said before, it has been more than two hundred years since we have been invited to court, nearly two hundred years since Gresit was left to the wayside. Wallachia has seen the rise and fall of countless kings, and yet, none harbored the same ferocity as the current King. Given the precedence this sets for both sides, do you truly believe King Dracula would allow the only human-led province to so blatantly show such disrespect as to ignore the first invitation sent and received in two centuries?"
You crossed the remaining distance between you and the circle of chairs before you sat in the last one, your movements precise and graceful. The Belmont warrior's shoulders fell as his eyes widened, a pained expression beginning to flicker across his scarred face.
"While we have been able to keep our home safe against stray vampire bands and human raiders, we have absolutely no chance of victory should we choose to stand against the might of the King's army. He would sweep across this land and kill everyone. I will not condemn our people to suffer those consequences just because we now face the unknown."
For a long, long moment no one said anything as the truth and gravity of your words stretched between you. After what felt like eternity, Trevor quietly sighed before slowly shaking his head and stood. With near-silent movement he made his way to the table on the opposite side of the study where the crystal decanter of port sat glittering upon a golden tray. Wordlessly he wrapped his hands around it and poured three equal glasses before he turned and carefully pressed one into Sypha's hands and then your own.
"Can we at least be in agreement it is a royally shitty choice one way or the other?" he muttered before turning to reclaim his own glass and settle onto the plush chair once more.
You did not reply immediately as you took a ginger sip from your glass, relishing in the burn of amber liquid down your throat. "Unfortunately for us, Belmont, our lives are filled with nothing but impossible and shitty choices. It is up to us to ensure we do all that we can to make the right ones, no matter how painful. I know what I am asking of you both is daunting. We will have a nearly insurmountable disadvantage once we leave the province and enter the royal palace. Vampiric courtly politics have been a veiled mystery for centuries, as are most of their histories, customs, and laws. I understand if you do not wish to accompany-"
"We are with you." Sypha vowed with a small nod of her head, her voice so sweet with sincerity it made your heart ache. "Always and forever."
Trevor exhaled before finally nodding his head as well, eyes meeting your own, their heavy depths softening with a humorous gleam. "Of course we're coming with you. It's not as if we can allow you to get killed at your first royal ball, can we? That would be a poor showing of our talents as your advisors."
A small smile tugged at your lips as a wash of relief flooded your being. "Thank you both, truly."
"Don't thank us just yet, your Grace." Trevor grunted before he downed the remaining contents of his glass and settled it onto the round wooden table between you. "Wouldn't want to jinx our shit-stained odds even more."
"Well then, if we are all in agreement," you slowly stood and began to make your way back towards your desk, "let us begin making the necessary preparations. I shall announce our plans to the council tonight at dinner. We depart within the week."
That very evening in the dining hall, your closest friends and advisors gathered around the table, feasting merrily on the rich course of meat, seasoned vegetables, and freshly baked bread. You sat at the head of the table, flanked on either side by Sypha and Trevor, Juste and Richter beside him, Greta and Annette beside her.
They all conversed while you sat silently, your eyes fixated on your plate, your hand absentmindedly swirling your glass of wine. Despite your best efforts to listen intently on their conversation, you could barely keep your head above the murky depths of your muddled thoughts.
"You've been awfully quiet this evening, your Grace." Juste drawled, clearing his throat when your eyes slowly rose to meet is own. "Something the matter?"
The dining hall fell quiet as they all regarded you. You briefly glanced to Sypha and Trevor before acquiescing. "I received a letter from the Grand Palace. It is a summons to this year's equinox ball and celebrations, signed by the King and Queen. I mean to attend."
A mix of surprised gasps and curses echoed out, followed closely by the loud clattering of cutlery clashing against porcelain.
"What!?" Richter huffed. "You can't be serious. You cannot go!"
You peered at him evenly. "I must."
"Richter is right, you cannot go there. It isn't safe. We have all heard the stories about how they treat humans, let alone those they are not fond of." Annette shook her head, the movement causing the golden beads of her locs to gleam in the nearby candlelight. "And they are not fond of us."
"Fond of? They don't even know us!" Richter denied with a scoff. "It is obviously a trap to kill you or worse." his eyes flashed over to Trevor. "Tell her, Uncle!"
"You think I haven't tried?" the older Belmont snorted before downing the contents of his wine and filling his glass anew. "Believe me, I tried."
You stood from the table, making sure that every single one of their eyes was on you. "I did not tell you this news for you to attempt to sway me and my decision. My mind is made up, and I choose the course that will allow me to do my duty and keep you all safe."
"Allow us to come with you, at least." Juste replied evenly, only for his frown to deepen when you shook your head to deny him.
"No, I need you all protecting the province and town while I am gone. Sypha and Trevor will accompany me, but I need you here. I need you carrying on with your duties to the people."
No one said anything for a long moment before Greta slowly raised her glass in your direction. "We will do our best, your Grace. Just as you must do yours to come back to us, safe and sound."
Warmth began to bloom in your chest as each and every one of them slowly raised their glasses. You swallowed before reaching for your own and mirroring their actions. "I promise, I will do whatever it takes to come back to you all. I swear it."
The day of your departure was upon you within the blink of an eye. Your house staff had taken care of every necessary preparation, ensuring that you had ease of mind once the day was upon you. In the lavender and blush pink light of dawn, you said your heartfelt goodbyes and well wishes. Before you knew it, you and your advisors stepped into the carriage and began the day-long journey towards Targoviste.
For many hours you rode in silence as the coach jostled down the winding road in the direction of the capital city, your eyes never straying from the passing landscape. The dark green sea of forest stretched for as far as the eye could see, the air sweet with the nearing arrival of spring. You sat opposite of Sypha and Trevor, the former attentively reading a book, the latter leaning back with his eyes closed, arms crossed over his chest. Your own hands sat tightly laced together in your lap, the thumb of your dominant hand gently rubbing back and forth over the top of the other, your skin strained tightly over the knuckles. With each rotation, the bracelets and bangles upon your wrists twinkled lightly against one another and the detailed embroidery of your skirts, the gentle sound accompanied by the melody of birdsong that floated from the treetops overhead. Despite the natural beauty and splendor of the land around you and the warmth of the sun kissing your skin through the window, you could not rid the sharp, icy tendril of dread that began to take root and fester inside of you.
Every single doubt you ever had for your ability to lead your people, your ability to protect them and ensure their well-being, rose up from the deepest depths of your hidden self and drowned you in a suffocating wave of unease. You had done everything in your power over the last twenty years to ensure that your people would heal, grow, and prosper after Gresit's near destruction all those years ago. And by the gods, your efforts and sacrifices were not in vain. Your people's security was your crowning achievement, and you vowed to do anything to keep them safe, no matter the cost. But in your efforts to do so, there was always the looming threat of the possible moment you could make the wrong decision, a catastrophic mistake that would lead to the death and destruction of thousands of lives. And no matter how many times you reassured and told yourself in the last handful of hours that accepting the High King's invitation was the most logical, safest course of action, you could not rid yourself of the horrifying feeling you had finally chosen wrong.
"You would feel better if you talked about what's worrying you instead of keeping it bottled inside, you know." Sypha began softly, her words shattering your thoughts and forcing you to tear your gaze from the window and meet her own. "And this may be the only time to do so until we are able to return home. At least without the constant worry of being listened to."
You blinked, face heating as you stilled your hands. "I'm fine."
Trevor snorted, cracking one eye open to peer at you before shifting heavily in his seat. "You shouldn't lie, your Grace. You're horrible at it."
You clicked your tongue before taking a centering inhale and exhale. "Yes, how could I forget, Belmont? You are always so kind enough to remind me of the fact."
He shrugged his shoulders, a small smile tugging at his lips. "I am an expert in my profession, what can I say?"
You rolled your eyes before shifting to face them both fully, the silk fabric of your dress rustling quietly as you did so. With a delicate hand you smoothed the garment of wrinkles, attempting to rein in the onslaught of racing thoughts that roared in your mind.
Sypha spoke your name before sitting forward, her sky-blue and silver-laced dress brushing against your own emerald silk, the silver-drop earrings she wore glinting in the golden rays of sun filtering through the window.
You reluctantly found her eyes again before shaking your head, a resigned breath escaping you. "I am worried about what may come to pass, is all."
"It's a bit late for regrets, isn't it?" Trevor drawled before a sharp and pained yelp escaped him. Your eyes instantly snapped to him the moment Sypha retracted her hand from his cheek, leaving an angry blotch of red on his skin in her wake.
"Not helping," she huffed in annoyance before turning back to you. "Ignore him. You were saying?"
You bit the inside of your cheek and peered back down to your lap once more, your eyes tracing over the shining beads and embroidery of your garment. Despair began to bloom in your chest before you finally released the breath you were holding. "It's nothing."
Sypha's face fell before she glanced sidelong at Trevor, their silent exchange unseen by you as your eyes continued to stay downcast.
"Lying again?" Trevor grumbled, drawing your attention to him when he said your name. You reluctantly peered up, attempting with all your might to school your features into neutrality. Unluckily for you, they saw right through the attempted rouse. "You might as well speak the truth of it now," he scratched the scruff of on his chin before inclining his head, "as Sypha said before, once we reach the Grand Palace, it will not be safe to speak freely."
You watched them both for a quiet moment, the slight rocking of the carriage transitioning suddenly to a rhythmic jerk as the footmen steered the horses over a bridge crossing. The sound of rushing water filled the silence, drawing your attention out the window.
"I have been thinking about the knowledge available to us, the vague histories we learned in youth. Vampiric society has made sure that the inner workings of their courts remain unknown to mortals, unlike our histories that are so widely known across the continents." you began slowly, your eyes still trained on the rolling hills and farmland that passed by. "We know the High King and Queen were a match forged in the promise of alliance; we know that there are two princes, one sired by Queen Lisa, the other sired by the late Queen Mina. But that is all. We know nothing about their customs, their traditions, and I fear that I may say or do something insulting, which would lead to my inevitable impaling. I care not about what happens to my life, but I could not bear it if you or any one of our people were condemned to the same horrific fate because I spoke egregiously without knowing."
Neither one said anything for many moments. You silently cursed yourself for speaking the truth, as they should not have had to bear yet another one of your burdens. The gnawing jaws of guilt and regret began to twist painfully inside your chest, stuttering your breath. Suddenly you felt something shift before Sypha's hand gently grasped your own, untangling your clenched fists from the bunching of your gown.
"I am well aware how pointless my thoughts and fears are," you whispered before finally allowing yourself to find their eyes again, "I know it is too late for regrets. The dice have been cast, and there's no going back. I just - I cannot bear the thought of everything we have worked for come crashing down because of a stupid mistake that I did not even know I could make."
"As you said before, that is the nature of our lives." Sypha murmured gently. "To make the impossible decisions, to brace for the consequences. You are doing all you can."
"She's right," Trevor cleared his throat before staring at you evenly, "and so were you. If you had decided to decline their invitation, Gresit's downfall would be certain. We may be hurtling towards the viper's den, but at least we have a fighting chance. You are the Grand Duchess of Gresit, the leader of the sole human-led province in the entire kingdom. To your right will always stand a Knight of the Hold, the fiercest warriors of the continent. To your left will always stand a Speaker, the most intelligent scholars in all the human world. We may not know their blood-stained politics and customs, but we do know how to hold our own. We always have. We always will."
You inhaled a shaky breath as you fought back the rush of tears that clawed their way up your throat. You swallowed them down painfully, blinking to usher them away.
"There will be other humans in attendance at the ball. Noblemen, noblewomen, and servants alike. I am sure we will be instructed on any particular customs that are set in place." Sypha reassured as her eyes began to gleam with mischief. "And if they have managed a way to remain un-impaled, so will we."
You couldn't help the small laugh that escaped you, your heart thawing with the warmth of their kindness. "I suppose you're right."
"She always is," Trevor sighed, trying and failing to fight the grin that threatened to show, "we should know better to think otherwise."
"Indeed," you sniffed before squeezing Sypha's hand which still held comfortingly onto your own.
"Is there anything else worrying you?" she inquired with a tilt of her chin.
You shook your head and squeezed her hand a final time before pulling away and settling into the plush. "I'm alright."
"Good, glad that's settled." she leaned away, this time resting her back against Trevor's chest. He pulled her into his side without question before closing his eyes once more, the two of them melting into each other's tender embrace.
Your eyes softened at their gentle display before you turned your head towards the window once more. With a deep, steadying breath you closed your own eyes. For a long, long time you heard nothing but the cacophony of thunderous thoughts that fought for dominance inside your mind, until finally they quieted and allowed for you to slip into the peaceful abyss of unconciousness.
As the sun finally began to set in the west, you arrived at the gates of the capital city of Targoviste. The brilliant reds, oranges, and pinks of coming twilight painted the sky in wild whirls of color, a breathtaking backdrop to the towering obsidian walls that obscured the lower half of the city from view. Beyond them, however, the glinting of gold could be seen blinking in the light of the radiant sunset a great distance away, beckoning all to revel in its splendor.
"By the gods," you gasped gently, attempting as much as you were able to press your face against the glass of the window, "is that the Grand Palace?"
Sypha was immediately beside you, her shoulders gently brushing your own in attempt to drink in all that was revealed when the carriage finally passed through the gates.
"I believe so," she nodded and turned to meet your gaze, both of your faces alight with both intrigue and wonder, "it seems the stories were true."
You hummed before your eyes once again found themselves marveling at the passing sights. Various merchants from all over the Realm lined both sides of the streets, attempting to sell their wares. Hundreds of people from all walks of life bustled to and fro, their collective buzzing voices becoming one grand symphony as the carriage continued further into the city. Before long, the humbler shops and buildings gave way to those of more grandeur, their edifices inlaid with glistening black marble instead of the duller stones of the lower city.
As the sun finally began to dip fully below the horizon and the bright reds and oranges had given way to purples and deep shades of cobalt, the coach finally came to a halt. With each passing moment your steadily thrumming heart began to beat more erratically, your palms growing clammy. Before you could fully calm yourself, the carriage door swung open, revealing the dark flagstones of the palace grounds. You barely had a moment to glance at your companions before Trevor stepped out and offered a hand to Sypha, then you, before turning to the young human valet dressed in a fine crimson velvet coat trimmed with black lace.
"The Grand Duchess of Gresit has arrived," the warrior announced evenly, producing the opened invitation. The valet took it with a black-gloved hand, his amber eyes widening imperceptibly. You failed to meet his gaze when he glanced at you, your attention immediately stolen by the magnificent sight before you.
The Grand Palace sat at the farthest end of the carnelian and onyx carriageway, a soaring figure whose tallest spires and towers brushed against the darkening heavens, their golden peaks still shining even in the failing light. The dark-stoned structure was illuminated in the pale amber of the braziers that were interspersed among the torrents throughout the front and sides of the palace, casting shadow upon the impossibly manicured gardens full of foreign flora and fauna. And just out of direct eyesight, veiled from view by a towering water fountain, were the steps that led into the grand foyer.
"Welcome, Grand Duchess. We have been expecting you."
You startled lightly, sucking in a breath before forcing yourself back to center and meeting the valet's eyes. "Thank you."
"If you'll please follow me, I shall show you to your guest chambers."
With a gentle nod you smoothed the silk of your gown before glancing at Sypha and Trevor. "Shall we?"
You walked arm in arm with Sypha, Trevor in front of you, as you all wordlessly followed the valet down the carriageway. Countless other human parties headed in the same direction; all being guided with similarly dressed servants. When you reached the fountain, you could not help but marvel once again at the gargantuan structure, your lips parted in awe as the true extent of the opulence and wealth of the royal family was finally revealed.
Everywhere you looked you were met with such splendors you could barely take it all in. Countless paintings, marble-carved tables, statues, chandeliers and candelabras filled the winding halls. The high-vaulted ceilings were painted in elaborate scenes of unknown origins, the vivid images seeming to move and undulate in the flickering flames of candlelight.
After countless turns and winding staircases, the young valet approached a seemingly deserted hallway, the stone walls considerably bare compared to the ones below. It was not long before he stopped in front of a wooden door, bowing slightly as he did so. "Your chambers are here, your Grace. The entire floor has been allocated just for you and your staff. Your belongings have already been placed inside. The High Queen and King have ensured you will have all that you require for the opening feast this evening. A warm bath has been drawn, as well as refreshment from your long journey."
You straightened to your full height, a small smile at your lips. "I see. Thank you."
The young man regarded you for a moment, his pale face flickering with a wash of intrigue before he nodded curtly. "Is there anything else you require at this time, Grand Duchess?"
You shook your head. "No, that will be all. Gratitude."
He gently dipped his chin before meeting Sypha's and Trevor's eyes. "Your rooms are just this way. Please, follow me."
You nodded to them both when they sent a questioning glance your way. "I will be alright. Go and freshen up for the feast. We shall see each other presently."
They nodded silently before turning to face the valet who bowed in your direction before turning on his heels and walking away, your adviros following after them. When they were finally out of sight you released another breath before reaching for the doorhandle and prying it open. The iron hinges made no sound as the door slowly gave way, revealing the room within.
A four-poster bed sat against the right wall, flanked by two sturdy wooden tables. On the left the hearth sat vacant of flame, its marble mantle decorated with an oil-painted landscape and golden vase of flowers. In front of the grate a large copper bath sat, thick, curling tendrils of steam emanating from the warmed waters. A single red-fiber rug was placed in the middle of the room, and on one side was a wooden table filled with a decanter of wine and a bowl of fruit, the other your delivered trunks.
"Not the worst accommodations," you hummed gently before turning to the bed and running your hand over the dark purple blanket. With another deep sigh you spun on your heels and faced the bath, making to undo the laces of your wrinkled gown. With practiced ease each layer of your adornment fell away, leaving you in nothing but your jewelry.
As you slowly stepped into the tub and allowed your body to be overcome with the warm embrace of the calming heat, your eyes fluttered closed in a rare moment of suspended peace as the faint smell of rose and calendula wafted from the scented waters. It lasted all but for a moment before a soft knocking on the door pulled you from its hold. Your eyes opened the moment Sypha stepped into the room before shutting the door behind her, your eyes finally catching on the glittering rose-pink garment in her arms.
"I figured you could use some company as we dress." she said gently and crossed further into the room and placed her own gown over the back of the nearby sofa. "I know you are more than capable yourself, but given the circumstances, I think it best to have a second pair of eyes and hands just in case."
"You are my friend, Sypha. Not my lady's maid." you settled deeper into the tub, your chin now resting upon the surface of the waters. "You should be dressing yourself, not me."
She gave you a pointed look before crossing over to your trunk and carefully pulled out the finest gowns of the batch. The rich fabrics rustled against one another as she laid them upon the dark sofa, each prettier than the last.
"Any preference?" she turned to face you before eyeing the expensive garments once more.
You sat up in the tub, bending your knees to your chest as you glanced at your various options. Each and every one of them were dresses you had never worn, as you did not have the occasion nor desire to do so. Though you dressed in finery fit for a Duchess, you rarely donned anything as overly luxurious as those before you. You cared more for ensuring no person in Gresit went hungry or unclothed themselves instead of wasting precious resources for excessively expensive evening wear.
"I haven't the faintest clue." you shrugged. "What do you suggest?"
"Hmm," Sypha took a step back from the plush couch, every once in a while peering at you before her eyes slid back to the gowns, "perhaps the sapphire silks with your gold and pearl necklace?"
"Alright."
When you had finished bathing and drying off, Sypha handed you your nicest shift before she began the painstaking task of tying the laces of the whale-bone corset. She worked silently, she in her own thoughts, you immersed in yours. It was only a matter of time before you were stepping into the heavy and elaborate garment then adorning your person with the gorgeous golden and pearl necklace. After many moments you found yourself Infront of the wood-framed looking glass, your eyes drinking in your own resplendence.
"Not horrible," you smiled before glancing at her.
Sypha's own eyes gleamed when she peered at you from her spot upon the sofa, now clad in her own exquisite gown of blushing rose. "Not horrible indeed." she stood from her place before taking her place beside you. "Ready?"
You swallowed before peering back at the mirror, the giddiness of preparation now bleeding into something more sinister. "Not at all."
She gently leaned her head onto your shoulder before squeezing your hand. "Neither am I." she admitted quietly. "Shall we?"
You took one last lingering look at the mirror before nodding curtly. "We shall."
With each and every step you took down the winding halls of the guest quarters, the heavier the stone of unease began to feel in your belly. Sypha and Trevor walked in front of you, guided once again by another human servant who had been commanded to escort you to the throne room.
You tried your best to remember landmarks for your own peace of mind, but every turn and staircase made it nearly impossible to do so. Eventually you descended the last staircase that brought you to a somewhat familiar hall, the sound of flutes and lutes playing an unfamiliar melody now audible to your ears.
"It is just up ahead, but you shall need to announce your mistress yourself," the young servant woman informed your companions before curtsying when you caught her eye. "Enjoy your evening, Duchess."
The young woman did not give you a chance to reply before she scurried off. You watched on after her before glancing around the halls once more, noting once again it was strangely empty.
"I suppose Trevor and I shall go inform them of your arrival," Sypha offered when she met your eyes, "will you be alright while we do so?"
"I think I can manage," you jested lightly, "I'll wait here."
Within a few moments you were left alone once more, the heavy stone still ever present in your belly. You bit your lip before turning your attentions onto the large oil-painting that hung on the wall opposite of you, its size rivaling that of your coach. It was a breathtaking scene of a bright, flowing river covered with hundreds of wildflowers and herbs sprouting along the riverbank, reminding you of the springs and streams found in the forests that surrounded your home in the summertime.
"Beautiful, isn't it?" a low, rich voice suddenly asked from behind you.
You whirled on your heels, the skirts of your gown swishing dramatically with your movements. You had just enough sense to choke down the curse that threatened to escape you when your eyes met a pair of impossibly bright, brilliant gold. You froze, lips parting slightly as you took in the striking figure before you. He was a vampiric noble, that much was certain as was ascertained by his inhumanly perfect, marble-carved features and crown of cascading blond locks that fell down his broad shoulders in thick, luscious waves. His body was clad in the finest black and golden embroidered coat you had ever seen, the intricate golden threads gleaming in the shifting light.
"Apologies, I did not mean to startle you." the unknown nobleman dipped his chin, clasping his hands behind his back as he did so.
You blinked before forcing a genteel smile. "The fault is entirely my own. It was silly of me to expect no one else to be walking these halls." you turned your head to face the painting. "And yes, it is a remarkable work of art."
"I am sure the artist would have to disagree," he mused before taking a step towards you so that he could also face the painting directly, "as is the plight of all who create."
You glanced at him sidelong before inclining your head. "I suppose."
An odd silence settled between you as you continued to study the painting. The longer it wore on, the more you became aware of the passing of time and the notable absence of your companions. But more so, you began to feel the overwhelming, growing awareness of the immortal's presence. In attempt to dispel the festering plight of awkwardness, you turned to peer down the hallway, the corner of your lips dipping when they still had not materialized.
"Nervous, are we? Or are you simply looking for someone in particular? Another guest, perchance?"
You stilled before turning to face him, attempting with all your might to keep your expression neutral as to not betray the lash of nervousness that whipped against your ribs. "Beg pardon, my Lord?"
The golden-haired vampire laughed softy, the sound barely more than a quiet exhale. "Nervousness would perfectly explain your racing heart. I can hear it above the music. It is...quite obvious."
Your lips parted as a small huff of surprise escaped you, but before you would let it consume you, you let it guide you. "I would be a fool not to be nervous as a human walking the halls of the Grand Palace, even more so not to feel unease in the presence of vampiric nobility."
"I would never think to call you a fool, my Lady." his eyes seemed to glow as brightly as the summer sun as he continued to regard you intently. "After all, there is no greater fool within these halls than Lord Godbrand, who has unfortunately graced us with his presence this evening."
You hummed gently in denial; the name unfamiliar to you. "My apologies, my Lord, but I know not of who you speak."
"Ah," he tilted his head imperceptibly, molten eyes gleaming with something you could not name, a smirk beginning to grace his lips. "You will soon know exactly who I speak of. He is...well known for causing chaos here at court. Might I offer you a word of advice, my Lady?"
Your eyebrow rose in faint intrigue as you peered down the hall a second time before settling your eyes back onto him. "If you insist, my Lord."
The handsome vampire's smirk widened. "I would suggest avoiding him and his companion, Lord Walter, if you can help it. They are hardly decent company for anyone to keep, especially for a newcomer to these halls."
The blood in your veins turned to ice water. You forced a centering breath before peering up at him, clasping your hands against your front. "Is it that obvious I am new?"
His smile broadened. "No, not at all."
You could not contain the small, disbelieving laugh that escaped you. "You are kind for saying so, my Lord."
He inclined his chin. "I am afraid I must take my leave and bid you farewell. I do hope you enjoy your first night at court, your Grace. Good evening." the mysterious stranger did not give you the opportunity to respond before he bowed and turned in the opposite direction of the hall and faded away from view. Your body stood unmoving as stone as your mind caught up to the present moment, sobering realization licking down your spine that despite the lack of any introduction, the unknown vampiric noble knew exactly who you were. Your heart lurched, the breath stolen from your lungs as your mind began to fully descend into your ever-present dread.
You heard someone call out from behind you, but you could not make out their muffled words. You continued to stay rooted in place, eyes wide and breath shallow as you attempted and failed to conjure every single non-threatening possibility of how he knew. Despite your best efforts, your logical mind could not overpower that of your fear.
It wasn't until you felt a warm hand place itself onto your forearm were you jolted back into yourself. You blinked once, twice, a third time before Trevor's narrowed eyes and furrowed brow came into view. "Are you alright? You look like you're about to be sick."
"I'm fine, Belmont." you forced out, your voice so surprisingly even and steady that you nearly believed it yourself. "I was just lost in thought, is all."
He did not seem convinced. "Are you sure?"
You steeled yourself to your full height and nodded. "I'm sure. Where is Sypha?"
"She's waiting for us outside the hall. They're about to commence introductions, as the royal family has just arrived. We were told that given our unique position, you are to be announced last." he explained with a light jerk of his head in that very direction before extending his arm for you to take. "Are you ready for this?"
You wordlessly looped your arm in his, forcing your mind to clear and focus on the momentous evening set before you.
𝐒𝐘𝐍𝐎𝐏𝐒𝐈𝐒 𝜗℘ ˖ ࣪ . ˖˙ meeting up with toji in secret is part of your daily routine. while you’re telling him about one of your favorite novels, your eyes linger on the way he’s handling his gun and your thoughts quickly turn explicit.
tags \\ warnings. outlaw!toji fushiguro x mayor's daughter!reader. fluff, mostly smut. mature themes. implied age gap (reader early 20’s, toji early 30’s). wild west au. gūnplay. size kīnk. pūssy slapping. dirty talk. nicknames ‘darlin’, girl, princess’. barely proofread :: wc. 3k :: mlist
you sit on a flat rock, your calico dress hiked up to let your bare feet dangle in the shallow pool at the waterfall’s base. the fabric is simple yet befitting your status. a modest bodice with puffed sleeves, a full skirt that billows in the breeze, and a petticoat beneath that whispers against your legs.
your parents would throw a fit if they knew you exposed the bare skin of your legs like that in public. but here, away from prying eyes, you’re free.
next to you, leaning against a moss-covered boulder, is toji.
his duster coat hangs slung over a nearby branch, leaving him in a worn chambray shirt rolled up to his elbows. his forearms are corded with muscle and scars from years on the run. his trousers are dusty from the trail, tucked into scuffed boots that have seen more miles than most men live to walk.
a wide-brimmed stetson shades his sharp green eyes, but you’ve long since memorized the rugged lines of his face. from the scar slicing across his lip to the stubble that roughens his jaw.
toji methodically cleans his revolver—a colt single action army that gleams under his touch. the cylinder spins with a soft click as he oils the chambers. his large, veiny hands move with practiced ease.
those hands—god, those hands—are weapons in themselves. they’re calloused from reins and triggers, yet surprisingly gentle when they trace your skin in the dead of night.
you continue your little rambling session, as you often do in these stolen moments, your voice carrying over the waterfall’s murmur.
“…and the heroine, she’s betrothed to this stuffy banker, but then this outlaw bursts into the saloon, all guns blazing, and their eyes meet across the room. they got something going on since that moment. it’s forbidden, of course—her family’s got standing, and he’s got a price on his head—but she can’t resist. they steal away under the stars, riding hard for the border. the way the author describes their first kiss… it’s like fire and dynamite all at once!”
toji hums in response. his scarred lip quirks up faintly. “romantic bull. sounds like every penny dreadful they sell at the mercantile.” his tone holds no real bite. he enjoys your stories, even if he mocks you for reading them.
you laugh softly. “maybe. but it felt. . . true, in a way.”
your words falter as your gaze drifts downward, fixating on his hands. the way his thumb presses firmly along the barrel, polishing it to a mirror shine. the subtle flex of his knuckles as he grips the handle to turn the gun this way and that. those hands—capable of such brutality, yet they cradle you tenderly at night and map every curve of your body with possessive reverence.
you imagine them now in darker places: fisting in your hair, pinning your hips to the earth or delving between your thighs to coax out moans.
but it’s the revolver that ensnares you most—the cold and lethal steel handled with such casual mastery. a tool of death, responsible for god knows how many lives ended in dusty streets and shadowed canyons.
you have heard the whispers. banks robbed in broad daylight and posses gunned down without mercy. tens, hundreds perhaps. yet that same gun has also saved you many times—once from a leering stranger in the alley behind the mercantile and another time when bounty hunters tried to take advantage of you.
the danger and power of it makes your pulse thrum and a a forbidden heat blooms low in your abdomen.
toji catches you staring. his hands still, the rag dangling forgotten as he lifts the revolver slightly, barrel pointed harmlessly upward. those sharp yet amused green eyes lock onto yours.
“cat got your tongue, darlin’? or is it somethin’ else?”
you blink. you feel your cheeks heat up as you tear your gaze to the rippling water, “i… i was just lost in thought.”
“bull,” toji’s voice drops an octave. that rough timbre sends a shiver down your spine. he sets the gun aside for a moment before leaning forward to snag your wrist in his massive grip—gentle but unyielding.
he pulls you across the short distance until you sit between his spread legs, the rock hard beneath your thighs. up close, his size is overwhelming: his chest is a solid wall with his thighs bracketing you like iron bars. the scent of him—leather, gun oil and faint sweat—is intoxicating.
you feel small and delicate, like porcelain in the hands of a giant.
“you’ve been eye-fuckin’ my hands for the last ten minutes. or was it the colt?”
your breath hitches at the accusation. you huff and try to downplay it. “no. well—it’s just… ugh, stupid.”
“ain’t nothin’ stupid if it’s got you squirming like that,” toji picks up the revolver again and holds it between you like an offering. the metal catches the fading light, the six loaded chambers winking ominously, “c’mon. spit it out. what’s runnin’ through that pretty little head of yers?”
you bite your lip. no point denying any of it. toji will get it out of you sooner or later.
the confession spills out in an embarrassed rush. “the way you handle your gun—ermm, it’s attractive. i-i know you’ve killed with it—protected me with it and stuff. it’s dangerous, yeah. but, it… ugh—it turns me on, toji. god, it really does.”
his eyes darken at your stammered confession, a predatory gleam igniting as he absorbs your words. a wicked grin spreads across his face. “well, shit. my trusty sidearm gettin’ you all hot and bothered? that’s a new one.”
toji shifts closer. his free hand cups your chin to tilt your face up. “ye like the danger, huh? knowin’ this thing’s ended more men than i can count, but here it is, in my hands, in front of you.”
you nod with your pulse racing. he releases your chin with a dark chuckle and takes your hand instead. he guides your smaller fingers to wrap around the grip. the weight surprises you—it’s heavy, solid and warm from his touch. his hand dwarfs yours as he overlays it, his rough palm pressing your fingers into the walnut.
“feel that,” the outlaw murmurs, voice low and intimate, “loaded to the hilt. one wrong move, and boom. but you trust me, don’t ya? trust an outlaw not to blow a hole in somethin’ pretty like you.”
the thrill of it—the implicit risk—makes your cunt clench. he begins to move your hand slowly, tracing the barrel’s cool tip over your opposite palm, circling the sensitive center before dragging it languidly up the inside of your wrist. goosebumps erupt in its wake. the metal leaves a chilled path that contrasts with the heat building up inside you.
“could do so much with this,” toji continues, his breath hot against your ear as he leans in. “press it right here—” the barrel slides under your sleeve and along the soft skin of your forearm, inch by torturous inch.
“—make you shiver while i whisper filthy things. or higher…” it reaches your upper arm before brushing the swell of your breast through the bodice’s thin cotton. your nipple pebbles instantly, straining against the fabric as the tip circles teasingly close. “could tease these sweet tits till y’re beggin’.”
you whimper softly while arching into the touch. his free hand settles on your waist, thumb rubbing idle circles through your dress, grounding you even as the gun continues its descent. down your ribs, to the curve of your waist, where he presses the barrel lightly, letting you feel its unyielding shape against your side.
“or here,” toji hisses, “could hold you in place while i strip ya bare. but i think you want it lower, don’t ya? want to feel what this cold steel can really do.”
the barrel dips to your hip and traces the flare before venturing inward along your thigh. your skirt bunches under his guidance, the petticoat whispering as fabric shifts. the tip grazes your inner thigh—higher and higher—until it ‘accidentally’ bumps against the damp warmth of your pussy between your legs. the hard edge pressing right over your clothed cunt through the thin drawers.
a sharp gasp tears from your throat. your hips jerk involuntarily at the contact. the pressure is exquisite, a spark of forbidden pleasure igniting where the loaded gun nudges your most sensitive spot. wrong—so utterly wrong—but the danger and the trust you put in him, makes it all the hotter.
toji pulls it back a fraction. his expression is one of feigned innocence, “whoops. my hand slipped there. didn’t mean ta—”
“no!” the needy whine escapes before you can clamp it down. your hand shoots out and seizes his wrist—the one wielding the revolver—and you guide it back firmly.
you press the barrel against your aching cunt once more. “don’t stop. please, toji.”
his breath stutters. his eyes widen for a split second before hooding with raw and feral hunger. he has seen you bold before, in the heat of your secret trysts, but this—this wanton abandon as you grind against his loaded weapon like it’s salvation itself—lights something inside him.
“fuck me,” toji rasps, voice thick with awe and arousal, “look at you, darlin’. never seen a woman so desperate she’d hump a goddamn gun. my gun. loaded ‘nd all, and you’re still rubbin’ that sweet pussy on it like it’s my cock. trustin’ me that much? shit, that’s the sexiest thing alive.”
emboldened by his words, your hips roll in earnest now. the barrel’s rigid length provides delicious friction through the cotton of your drawers. you feel yourself soaking the fabric, the slick making each grind smoother and more obscene.
toji watches, completely transfixed, his free hand gripping your thigh hard enough to leave temporary dents. he holds you open as you chase the delicious sensation. his massive frame is caging you in against him, his hand on the gun swallowing yours, making you feel utterly at his mercy.
“does it feel good?” the outlaw taunts while he twists the barrel slightly to rub the tip against your clit, “bet you’re drippin’ for it. for the danger. knowin’ one twitch of my finger could end it all—but i won’t. not with you.”
“yes,” you moan as you clutch his shirtfront, fabric bunching in your fist, “so good… nghhh, so wrong, but i trust you. only you.”
he grits his teeth, the veins in his arm bulging as he tries his best not to loss it, but to no avail. with a swift motion, he shoves your skirts higher and bunches the fabric af your waist. he hooks his fingers into the waistband of your drawers. with a a sharp tug he rips the delicate cotton, exposing you to the cool air.
your bare cunt glistens in the moonlight, swollen and needy. toji’s hungry gaze locks onto it. he licks his lips at the sight of your wet folds.
“goddamn beautiful,” he mutters. his free hand delivers a light slap to your pussy—the wet smack echoing over the falls. you yelp, but the slight pain blooms into tingling heat which makes you clench. he slaps again, firmer, his palm coming away slick. “all wet ‘n puffy. gonna make ya feel it proper now, yeah?”
your breath hitches, but you nod frantically. your nails dig crescents into the chambray stretched over his shoulders.
toji doesn’t hesitate for another second before he presses the his gun forward. the tip comes to rest on your clit, the cool metal making your legs tremble as he slides it up and down your slit, spreading your natural juices.
“mmh, fuck. breathe in, girl,” the dark-haired man grunts.
the first breach is deliberate. the rounded tip parts your outer lips, then sinks past the tight ring of muscle at your entrance with a soft wet sound. you gasp sharply. the stretch is immediate and foreign.
not flesh nor warm skin—just unyielding metal. thicker than two of his fingers pressed together, colder than anything that’s ever been inside you. your walls flutter instinctively around the intrusion and you try to accommodate to it. trying to push it out and pull it deeper all at once.
toji watches your face with hooded eyes. “that’s it,” he murmurs, “open up, darlin’. let it in.”
another inch. the barrel slides deeper, smooth and relentless, your glistening slick easing the way even as the chill makes you shiver violently. you can feel every subtle ridge where the metal meets the rifling. every faint seam.
it’s nothing like his cock—no give, no pulse, no heat—but the sheer wrongness of it and the danger of six brass-jacketed rounds sitting just inches from where your body clenches, makes your head spin.
he pauses when half the visible length is buried inside you—around three inches—letting you adjust. your cunt throbs around the steel and your walls ripple helplessly. a steady trickle of arousal leaks out around the barrel and drips onto the rock beneath you.
“fuckk,” he breathes out, almost reverent, “look how greedy this little pussy is. swallowin’ my colt like it’s hungry for it.”
toji gives a shallow thrust—barely an inch more in and out. the motion drags the cold metal along your sensitive cunt, bumping against spots that make your hips jerk. you moan brokenly, thighs spreading wider on instinct, offering yourself up.
“more,” you whisper through needy whimpers. “deeper—please…”
toji’s scarred lip curls up, “hah. greedy girl.”
he feeds you another inch—then another—until the barrel is buried almost all the way. the stretch burns sweetly now, your body yielding to the rigid intrusion. every tiny shift of his wrist sends the metal nudging new places inside you. when he twists it slightly the rounded front sight scrapes lightly against your sweet spot and you cry out.
toji starts to fuck you with it then—slow at first, pulling back almost to the tip before sliding back in, letting you feel the full length each time. the obscene squelches of your cunt taking the steel fills the air beneath the waterfall’s roar. your hips begin to rock in counterpoint, chasing the pressure, grinding your clit against the heel of his hand where it braces the gun.
“goddamn,” he groans at the erotic sight of you losing it over his gun inside your pussy, “hear that? that’s your cunt suckin’ my revolver in. so fuckin’ wet i could slide the whole damn thing in if i wanted.”
he doesn’t, but he does speed up. the thrusts turn firmer and deeper, the barrel pistoning steadily now. each plunge forces more of your wetness out around the metal. it drips down your ass, pools on the rock and glistens on his knuckles.
the cold of the steel has long since warmed from your body heat, but the psychological chill remains—the constant and electric awareness that this is a loaded firearm buried inside you, controlled by an outlaw’s steady hand.
toji’s thumb finds your clit again. he rubs hard and fast circles that match the rhythm of his thrusts. every few strokes he delivers a sharp slap to your filled cunt or your inner thigh—the wet crack of palm on slick skin making you clench violently around the barrel.
“you love this, don’t ya?” he taunts, voice thick with lust. his cock is straining against the front of his pants, begging to replace the gun inside you. “you love gettin’ fucked by the same gun i’ve killed with. trustin’ me not to slip a finger on that trigger while your cunt’s grippin’ it so tight. dirty little girl.”
the filthy words sear through you. your moans turn high and desperate, hips snapping to meet each thrust. the barrel drags relentlessly over that swollen spot inside you—over and over—while his thumb mashes your clit without mercy.
“gonna cum?” toji growls and leans down so his scarred mouth brushes your ear, “gonna soak my fuckin’ colt? gonna leave y’r cum all over the barrel so every time i draw it i remember how ye screamed f’ me?”
“yes—yes—toji—!”
he slams the gun deeper on the next thrust—harder than before—and holds it there, grinding the metal in maddening circles while his thumb flicks your clit.
that’s the exact moment the orgasm hits like a rifle crack.
your whole body locks up, spine bowing and a raw scream tears from your throat as your cunt clamps down on the steel. wave after wave of pleasure rips through you. your pussy spasms violently around the barrel, milking it like it could spill inside you.
juices splatter and gush out in a hot rush, coating the metal, dripping down toji’s wrist and onto the rock below. your thighs shake uncontrollably, toes curling and vision whiting out at the edges.
toji doesn’t move the gun. he keeps it buried deep to let you ride out every aftershock on the rigid length. he watches your face with something close to awe, green eyes blown nearly black, breath coming in harsh pants.
when the tremors finally ease you bonelessly collapse forward against his chest. the revolver is still inside you. it’s warm now from your body, your slick shining along its length.
only then does he slowly and carefully withdraw it.
the barrel emerges inch by glistening inch, coated in a thick sheen of your release. strings of slick connect it to your swollen cunt for a moment before snapping. you whimper at the sudden emptiness and your hole clenches around nothing.
toji holds the gun up between you both. the steel gleams wetly in the late-afternoon light, your arousal streaking the barrel from muzzle to cylinder. he turns it slowly. almost like he’s inspecting his work like a craftsman admiring a finished piece.
“fuckin’ beautiful,” he murmurs appreciatively.
then, with his eyes locked on yours, he brings the barrel to his mouth.
his pink tongue slides out before he lick a long stripe from the tip to the base, tasting every drop of you. he does it again slower, savoring it. the sight alone sends a fresh, weak pulse of warmth through your overstimulated pussy.
he pulls back with a final suck on the muzzle.
“sweet as sin,” toji rasps with a smug grin on his face, “ain’t wipin’ this off. gonna carry ya on my gun everywhere i go.”
𝜗℘ ˖ ࣪ . ˖˙ husband!gojo doesn’t play when it comes to expanding your little family :: cw. smut, brēeding & pregnancy themes.
“. . . you two make such cute babies.”
those are the words that have been driving satoru crazy. ever since this morning, after a little walk with your two children, he’s been waiting to get you alone. now that he finally does, he’s not letting go.
“been thinkin’ about this since the park,” your husband murmurs against your throat, his voice low and silky. “fuck—that old lady wasn’t wrong,” his hips roll once, deep, making your breath hitch, “we make the cutest fuckin’ babies, don’t we, sweets?”
you arch beneath him. your fingers dig into the flexing muscles of his bare shoulders, “y-yes—toru, nghh—“
satoru cuts you off with a slow and filthy grind, his fat cock dragging against every sensitive spot inside you until your thighs tremble. “my mind’s been full with thoughts of it,” he confesses, glossy lips brushing the shell of your ear.
“carrying our little girl on my shoulders, her tiny hands in my hair… and then i look at you—” he pulls back just enough to meet your eyes. his blue eyes glint even in the dark, pupils blown wide with want, “—and all i can think about is puttin’ another one in you.”
the words hit like a spark to dry grass. your sloppy pussy clenches around him instinctively. he groans and his forehead drops to yours in response.
“fuckk, you like that,” satoru shifts and hooks your legs higher over his hips so he can sink even deeper. “you want it again, don’t ya? want me to fill you up until it takes?”
“yes,” you gasp as your nails rake down his smooth back, “please!”
that’s all it takes.
satoru fucks you harder then—with long and punishing strokes that make the headboard tap the wall in quiet rhythm. one big hand slides between your bodies. slender fingers find your clit and circle with devastating precision. the other cradles the back of your head, keeping you locked against his gaze.
“look at me,” he demands softly with that charming grin of his, “watch me while i breed ya, baby.”
your orgasm builds fast. embarrassingly fast. your thighs shake as he keeps that same relentless pace. he’s everywhere—inside you, around you, whispering filthy promises against your lips.
“gonna give you a boy this time,” satoru pants with a muffled almost-whimepr, “or ‘nother girl. doesn’t matter. just—fuck—gonna keep ya pregnant.“
you shatter with a broken cry. your cunt flutters, milking him. satoru follows seconds later. his hips stutter as he buries himself to the hilt and comes with a shuddering groan. you feel him spilling in deep. so much it leaks out around his cock even as he stays pressed inside, grinding lazily to push every drop where it belongs.
satoru doesn’t pull out right away. instead he rolls you both so you’re draped across his chest, still connected, his arms caging you close. when you try to shift, he playfully nibbles on your ear and tightens his hold;
“aht, aht, we’re not done yet. gonna keep on tryin’ till i’m sure it’ll take.”
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