"fuck, baby.. please, stay still," she says, pressing her cheek to the inside of your plush thigh, one hand holding it open while the other was sliding the handle of the game controller up and down your soaked panties. the round end of the controller pressing to your clit every time before she slides it down to the wet patch right on your folds, circling it with the hard surface. your hips buckle, trying to chase the small amount of friction you were having: puffy folds already so so sensitive and clinging to your penties uncomfortably.
"that's it, you think you can fit it in?" she chuckles at her own question, thinking about it. the handle was short, round and thick, if it was about to push into you⊠not more than just few millimeters, right? but that'd be so cute. "it'll smell like you.." she added in breathless voice, placing a kiss on your thigh before tapping the hard handle over your clothed pussy again, pressing on the clit.
"won't fit!" you protested, shaking your head. the pleasure of the plastic handle of her controller was weirdly too good, every time you tried to move your knees together she would push them even further apart.
she pouted at your protest, knowing you were right: it probably wouldn't even be possible as we speak, but the thought made her head spin. she sighed, kissing your thigh again before pushing these soaked panties to the side with her long fingers, stroking your folds now directly with the controller. they were parting, making wet sounds every time she moved the handle up and down, then pressed it harder which only made you squirm and whimper.
when it comes to licking wounds, arthur considers himself more than proficient. in laving enzyme-laced saliva over lacerations and abrasions, in drooling biocatalyst bandaids over bumps and bruises. both figuratively, and literally; it rings true now most of all, the tip of his tongue tracing the bloodied innards of scar-tissued cheeks. and he's never been a sucker for self-pity, but, he feels stuck. he's been staring at the flimsy ceiling of his tent for god knows how long. inebriated through the catatonic cocktail brewed up in the tight, throbbing bounds of his skull, knee-deep in the stagnant ponds of sleep deprivation. just as murky as the olive-green swamps of saint denis. the hard heels of his palms rise to rub at dry, bloodshot eye sockets.
his head hurts. nightmare, night terror, sleep paralysis â he's not overly fond of any of the names, the loaded baggage which comes with them. he just wishes they'd stop. needs them to stop, more like. it's been long enough, the sizzling, buckshot-burnt hole in his shoulder is just another knurled scar now. arthur doesn't much like being cosied up in cruel old cotton country either, neighbouring with all the moonshine-swilling, inbred bastards; spinning a pretty yarn with his shimmering, silver deputy badge, and an equally as glittery tongue. chasing yankee gold and decaying dreams. and the heats been bothering him like a rock stuck in a horse hoof.
clemens point isn't all bad, though. the lazy days are few and far between, most of them spent with you. whenever he had the chance to whisk you away. offered to teach you how to play poker by the pronghorn hide tables a couple weeks back, to which you promptly assured him, you already know. robbed him blind to make up for the brazen presumption, beamed at him the whole way through. paired with the weight of your head over his denim-clad lap, an afternoon nap. impromptu, passed out by marigold-cloaked spindly trees at the sun-dusted edge of camp, his thumb tracing lazy circles on the nape of your neck.
spun you around under a star-soaked, candied violet twilight when you asked him to dance, too. told you he had two left feet, flushed a furious petal-pink, but indulged your coquettish request anyways. arthur wished he kissed you, then. he would've, if he wasn't so worried about giving you a whiskey-laced regret. he drank too much. and when he passed by that big old orchard on the way home, to bring you back cherries for breakfast; you were melt-in-your-mouth beautiful laying on your tummy in the sweet grass, with ruby-lacquered lips and tacky fingertips, tongue darting out to lap up tart juices trickling down your wrist.
would you suck him off like that? lick a kittenish, slippery path up the thick shaft of his cock? arthur would be gentle with you, he's sure, wouldn't force himself down your tight throat or tug at your hair harshly. he'd have plenty of ways to show his gratitude, after. hook your plush thighs over his shoulders, suckle a messy mouthful of your syrupy pussy and stuff his fingers inside knuckle-deep. make you sing for him. he doesn't know much, when it comes to you, can't read you right â he just knows he's bigger than you. stronger. could cup the backs of your knees and pin them to your chest without breaking a sweat. wouldn't let up until you squirmed sorely to get away, oversensitive, salted beads clumping on your bottom lashes.
he rises from his cot on uneven footing, forgoing a shirt, not so much as splashing his face with water. squinting at at the golden-sweet, swollen sun, trickling her luminous syrup into champagne-coloured clouds. just after five am, if he had to guess. early enough for camp to be entirely still. dawn starts to dilute the glaucous sky. he gulps back a big breath, citric dandelion and swamp air on his sinuses, and grimaces. huffs a virulence-dipped sigh. he could relieve one of the guards, could start on chores early. and still, he harbours a puffy predilection for your bed. he should let you sleep. he wants to, he does. you make it so hard.
arthur knows he's running on ravenous instinct over logic, when wandering to the sun-bleached flaps of your tent. dulled and disoriented, he only knows he misses you. not in the way he's missed anyone else before. it doesn't sting like scraped knees or fishhook-pricked fingertips, it aches abysmally, a flea-eaten, maggot-riddled cavity carved jagged in his chest. as vexatious and incessant as a swarm of insatiable fruit flies. swollen larvae rooted in the ravines of his ribs, making the muscles of his heart feel bloated, bulbous. clogging his adrenaline-fatigued arteries with muck. its a coffee-brown bruise to have a crush, and he dons the dappled contusions like fawn fur.
his forearm sweeps the cream canvas wide open without so much as a word, spilled sunlight warming the spotted skin of his back before the fabric flutters closed again. intruding. your name froths from his chest, fizzing out shotgun-fast, a shaken up beer bottle. messy, out of his control. as most things are, when you're around â ever the big, blustering idiot. his cheeks feel hot. you're sleeping, still. fists tucked under your jaw, in your little lace chemise. you look real pretty in it. plucked right from a fable, like a princess. something straight out of one of the faded storybooks strewn around camp. arthur's lips curl into a subtle, small smile. could've made your fortune off it in another life.
he should go. why can't he just go? works his weighted indecision around his teeth like clumped chewing tobacco. swallowing the acidic scald of his bruised pride, arthur slips in your bedroll beside you, your back flush to his chest. you stir, then, shimmying softly against his sinewed muscles.
â's jus' me.â he mumbles thickly, waterlogged words muffled by the mess of your hair. you're warm, nothing like the muggy, heavy heat. a welcome weight anchored to his front.
but the comfort is gone as soon as it came, you roll to lie flat on your back, sluggish shells of your hands rubbing slowly at your weary eyes. âhi,â you scrunch your nose affectionately, blinking at the blankets pooled around his hips and his bare form; sun-spotted from the tenacious ferocity of lemoyne heat, freckle smeared, bronze-tipped broad shoulders and tanned, brutish arms. without his well-worn embellishments; his hat, his holsters, when he's not the brawn, the brute or the enforcer. when he's just arthur. heart-achingly human.
a dozy, drowsy smile dimples your cheeks. your voice is light, but it still manages to carry a sing-song softness. âcan't sleep?â
god, you're so good to him. scrambling in his awkwardness, he grunts throatily, propping his weight up on corded forearms. clears the coarse block in his sleep-coated throat and decides a simple answer is for the best. âbad dream.â
something in your demeanour shifts, he notices, a knowing kink forming between your brow. your shoulders slump with a short exhale, you lean up, and kiss him. slot your peach-tender lips over his for a short second, then slouch back on the bedroll with a quiet thud. makes him wide-eyed and stupid. arthur draws in a bated breath, wincing at the delicate, lightning-bolt heartbeat pulsating under his pectorals.
you give a pitchy gasp when he closes in on you again. the bridge of his nose bumps back on yours, calloused fingertips cupping your jawbones and digging into the flesh firm. he panics, briefly, of coming off too strong, of crossing a burnt, singed line by matching your winsome affection with an aggressive appetence. but you just whine over his wet tongue, and it's so, so sweet, on his bullet-shocked eardrums.
resolve as frayed the work-worn ends of his lasso, and amorous in his advances now, arthur's hungry hand clamps over your bare thigh. asking silently, squeezing a trail upwards, to the little divot between your leg and clothed cunt. the taut tendons in his arm screech from the suffocating embrace of self-restraint. rumpled sheets ruffle together as you spread them wide, rocking your waist up in waiting. he fumbles clumsily through the slick-damp fabric, swiping two thick fingers through the slippery mess. you're soaked, all strained breaths and trembling thighs, as he kisses a sloppy, honeyed path down your neck.
mouthing at the flats of your collarbones, pressing the heat-cracked skin of his lips between your heaving tits. he pushes into your drooling hole with his ring finger, slowed, swallowing a bitten off-moan when he works you up to take two. a shuddering breath gets lodged in his throat, caught like a rabbit's paw in a snare trap. you're soft, scathing around his driving digits, knotting his abdomen into lecherous twists. hot and needy, hiccuping something silky and shaky to him that's lost on deaf ears.
and it's cloyingly better than any ill-imitation he imagined up before, all the lonesome sooty, shadowy nights when he fisted himself furiously into his mattress. hooking the hard pads of his fingers into your soft walls, he curls up greedily, wringing another sequence of watery whimpers out of you. arthur wants to devour you whole, wolf you down like strawberry syrup. there's a sore, simmering desperation etched into the chalk of bones, zipping through his calcium-thick skeleton; his cock swells, throbbing fervidly at the leaky tip, your glossy beads trickling into his open palm.
he's huffing, now, can hear the dulled, heavy breaths echoing out in between your pitchy pants. pumping, forcing his entire forearm with the drive of it. your flittering fingers cinch around his wide wrist, thumbing the bulging, baby blue veins, catching on the keloid-shaped, sawtooth battlefields carved into his metacarpals.
âarthur, arthur ââ you hiccup a hurting, torn wail, tugging lightly at the burnt-sand strands on his scalp. prying his lips off your shaky sternum, snaking your trembling hand to cup his blood-warm crotch. âjust fuck me.â
he hisses a tangled breath out between his teeth when you squeeze, stroking the hard, hot outline of his cock. quick to serve your whiny plea, he hooks both thumbs into the crumpled crease of his waistband, wrangling it down to settle around his mid-thighs. you writhe, angling your sweet, swollen cunt up to meet his swaying shaft. jesus, do you always sound like that? look, like that? cinnamon-sweet and dizzying pliancy, all for him? arthur should be taking his time with you. would, if he were a different man. less mauled and mangled, maybe. his ruddy, dribbling tip taps your puffy clit, he lubes himself up with your dewy slick as much as his blistering impatience will allow.
the blunt head of his cock catches on the glistening rim of your cunt, feels your arms loop shakily around his shoulders as he sheathes in. a slow, languid push, and he groans, tender and tortured; arthur's sought out the comfort of a soft cunt a couple of times, a no strings-attached fuck. the ones where he wiped the mess of spend from his stomach shame-faced, palmed a crumped billfold into the clasp of a disenchanted working girl, left in haste. left feeling worse than he did before. he's no stranger to one night stands, but none of them felt like this. maybe it's different because it's you.
it is different, because it's you. you've seen him at his worst. and you're shuddering underneath him, sweat-shimmering skin, glossy-eyed and dumb. breathily begging him to move, to fuck you like he means it. swinging your calves around the small of his back, love-locking him in place. raking red-hot lines down his tense, flexed traps, while he stuffs his cock in deep. slides his stocky, thewy arms underneath your back to fuck you all that harder. pumping his hips sloppily into your heat, rolling two fingers rough over your puffy, slippery bud. it doesn't take you much, arthur realises smugly, a responsive, sweet little thing like you, to bow your back, clench and convulse helplessly around his swelled base. drooling milky dew over the seam of his heavy balls, soaking the chestnut curls stippled over his skin.
he lowers his head again, planting clustered kisses against your sensitive skin, clumping together like honeycomb. your cheekbones, your chin, your cupid's bow, your temples, your jaw, the bridge of your nose. pecks your forehead last. warm and sticky, pollinating every plane and ridge of your pretty face with lust-sweetened adoration. he hears your teeth clink together once, shuddering in oversensitivity. with shaky syllables, you part your spit-shined lips. âinside.â
it's so simple, just one airy word. lands like a loaded gun. still manages to cinch his lungs together rattlesnake-tight, sends an aching spasm down his blanketed cock.
âsweetpea,â he gasps a guttural groan, brows pinching together painfully. adam's apple bobbing and beading with sweat, arthur clasps his hands over your flushed cheeks, buttercup-soft, the tightened muscles in his tensed jaw whirring like steam train gears. slowing his thrusts into shallow, shy bucks, forcefully clenching the hardened muscles in his stomach. âyou ain't thinkin' proper, you â i shouldn't.â
âi am,â you stutter through the twitchy aftershocks of your orgasm, fluttering lashes and helpless babbles. he watches with rapt, bumblebee buzzing attention as you struggle to steady your trembling tone. nudging, nuzzling your face into his open palms, cooing a promise. âi want it, i want you â i want all of you, arthur.â
moonstruck, arthur stares at you with sequinned, celadon irises. all the vertebrae in his spinal cord stiffening, the rapturous, gooey pool in his pelvis rupturing â he barely breathes his hoarse moan out before flooding your tight, tender insides, shoulders crumpling inwards with carnal pants while his cock spurts out warm, wet pulses. the cracked, callous skin of his palms hugging the meat of your hips, massaging the fat in a too-tight grasp. pounding your sappy pussy, filling you up with silky ribbons, your slick clinging a sticky film to his fuzzed thighs.
he's sure to avoid swathing you in his muscled mass, releases a drawn-out, abrasive sigh, all the way down from his stomach. doesn't bother pulling out just yet, though. brackets his arms around your skull, fingertips stroking at the sweat-damp curls plastered to the crown of your head, tender. you're quiet. uncomfortably quiet. sealed eyelids, almost as if he never woke you in the first place. silent besides the shaky succession of your uneven inhales, and it forces a flurry of treacherous tar-black anxieties to bloom in his head. a hurricane, and again â he feels like an idiot.
you giggle. gentle and girlish, smoothing out the self-condemnation imprinted into his face, sugaring sex-soaked air. makes his muscles melt at the tensed tissues, uproots a dry, wheezy chuckle of his own. breaks a toothy grin over his face. âi think,â your voice faint and flimsy, arthur's head cocks in keen curiosity as you swallow a short breath. you wear the same drowsy, dreamy smile from earlier. your breath fans out against his lips, lullabied words dribbling down like warmed milk. wrapping your wrists around his neck again, whispering a creamy, crushed-velvet confession to his ear. âi think i'm in love with you.â
you find a grey hair in SUKUNA'S beautiful pink locs
you run your fingers through sukunaâs soft pink locks, gently ruffling them as he melts further into your hold with every passing second. his arm stays snug around you while the two of you lie tangled on your couch, lazily watching reels from his phone.
thatâs when you see it.
âsukuna.â
âhm?â he nudges you lightly when you go quiet, shifting just enough to glance up at you. âwhatâs up?â
ây-youâŠâ you hesitate, fingers brushing through his hair again. this time a little more focused. âyou have a grey hair!â you point at it, eyes wide.
he lets out a quiet huff. âso what?â
âwaitâ wait! thereâs more!â your fingers keep searching, and he groans, tossing his phone aside.
âyou done? itâs just a few grey strands. whatâs the big deal?â
your expression crumples, nose scrunching in that way he knows too well⊠cute, but dangerous. his hand comes up instinctively, cupping your cheek.
âwhat are you crying about now, brat?â the âinsultâ doesnât stick, it never did even from the moment he met you.
you donât answer, just sniffle quietly, and he sighs under his breath before shifting. he maneuvers you down beside him on the too-small couch, half his body hanging off the edge, but he doesnât care. his arms wrap around you, warm and steady.
âlove,â he murmurs, voice low and gentle, âyou gonna tell me why youâre crying, hm?â his thumbs brush the tears under your eyes.
you sniffle again. âitâs just that⊠it means youâre getting oldâŠâ
he huffs out a quiet laugh. âyou worried i wonât be as handsome?â
you lightly swat his arm. ânever! iâll just have more competitionâŠâ you mumble, embarrassed, and he chuckles into your hair.
âiâm flattered youâre crying over me getting older.â
âwhen i get a grey, will you cry?â you pout, and his eyes flicker down.
âyes.â he answers without missing a beat.
âis it because iâll be uglyââ
he bites lightly at the junction of your neck.
âowâ ow! it was a joke!â
he presses a soft kiss over the spot right after, lingering there as he buries his face into your neck. âno. i wonât cry because of that.â
âthen what for?â
you feel the warm puff of his breath against your skin as he pulls you closer, arms tightening just a little.
âitâll just means my dream is coming trueâŠâ
he lifts his head, looking at you with so much quiet adoration it makes your chest ache. his eyes soften, almost glassy, like he might cry if he let himself.
âiâll grow old with you.â
â yooo i finally got ideas and posted hell yeahhh, it might be shitty but hey at least it's something
Synopsis: abandoned at the foot of a mountain in hopes of winning the favour of the Curse King, you have to navigate life as his bride, constantly fearing death, torture, and being eaten outâ up. being eaten up. definitely up.
right?
Warnings: porn with plot, dark romance, forced marriage, true form!sukuna - 2 peepees!, cunnilingus (he's a certified munch), use of curse mouth, blood play, masochist!sukuna, pussyjob, thigh job, death/violence/body parts, primal play, dubcon, double penetration, upside down 69, hair pulling, brief spanking, pussy slapping, biting, outdoor sex, bondage, shadow tentacles?, period sex, multiple orgasms, honestly not as dark as it sounds â this is quite romantic I promise, angst, fluff (soft!kuna), not quite curse au in the canon sense, f!reader, not proofread
Word Count: 16.9k
A forced marriage with Sukuna, the king of curses, sounds like hell.
And it is.Â
The village chief wanted to receive the newly arrived Curse Kingâs mercy and be spared from his tyranny. That apparently meant offering you, his only daughter, up for marriage. You were dropped off at the foot of the mountain, bound and gagged, unable to scream for help, not that any would arrive.
Not even your best friend, Suguru, had met your eyes.Â
Everyone had abandoned you.
A servant, dignified and aloof, came. They, with their white hair stained with crimson, took one look at you before making a silent decision.Â
Carried by goblin-looking creatures inside the mountain, which parted as though unhinging its jaw, you could do nothing but accept that you were going to be eaten up by the very monsters that children were warned about.
Navigating the carved out hallways of the mountain, they threw you in the throne room. Jagged stone walls surrounded you. Glowing red rocks were embedded in the rocks and lit torches illuminated the grand space. You were laying on the rolled out red carpet, staring up at a giant of a being.Â
There he was.
Sukuna Ryomen.
He was resting his head on one of his four arms, legs crossed, with all four eyes gazing down at you. He looked bored.Â
âWhat is this?â he drawled.
The same servant you first met stepped up, head bowed humbly. They said, âEntertainment, my Lord.â
âEntertainment?â the king repeated, tasting the word. âNot a snack? Interesting. How, pray tell, will this woman entertain me, if not with the taste of her flesh, Uraume?â
It was an absurd situation â they were discussing you as if you werenât there, as if you didnât have ears, as if you were a pet the servant had picked up as a gift. Although, it was at least a small blessing that you hadnât been killed on the spot, you supposed. The thought, however, didnât permit much relief when unimaginable torture could have awaited you.
âUraumeâ answered, âThe humans intended for her to be your wife, my Lord. Perhaps you could humour them with brief belief that they have been spared from their inevitable fate.â
At that, Sukuna hummed.
His eyes met your own then. They inspected you through your very soul. You felt their branding touch rifling through your essence. Something passed in them, something to which you could not put words.Â
Finally, he waved a lazy hand, and said, âVery well.â
The servants rushed to take you away, afraid to waste a single second.Â
Youâve been living in a room somewhere in the heart of the mountain since.Â
Itâs been about a week.Â
Meals on a tray are served to you three times a day. Porridge, fruits, bread, the sorts. You do your best not to eat much; they might have poisoned it.Â
Every day, every hour, is spent anticipating the wooden doors being kicked down, waiting for the Curse King to forgo delaying your fate and slicing your head off your shoulders with one, clean cut. So far, nothing yet.Â
In fact, you have not seen another soul since.Â
The first night, you couldnât sleep, afraid that he would take the villagers up on the offer to make you his real bride, by plunging his cock into you and stealing your maidenhead. It didnât, and hasnât, happened. But âyetâ looms over you perpetually.Â
Your one consolation is that sleep comes to you easily now.
Itâs all you can do â the room is barren of books, of people, of art. Only a bed, a table, and a chamber pot with a bucket of water decorate it. There are no windows with which you can view the outside world, can tell what time of day it is, can escape through, or jump off. Only your bodyâs natural instincts inform you when morning and time to slumber has arrived.Â
ThoughâŠ
With the days blurring, and perpetual and dim light of the glowing rocks remaining unchanged, itâs beginning to grow more and more difficult to tell left from right.Â
The doors are unlocked.Â
That was the first thing you tested when you were placed here.Â
Of course youâve considered walking out of the room, if only to have a change of scenery. Youâve also considered escaping. But your thoughts would always end up at âescaping to where?â
Youâve been abandoned by your village, by your family. They would not accept you. They would see your return as a sign that the Curse King had rejected their sacrifice and would be coming to collect the debt. In other words, youâd be seen as a bad omen.Â
It was your destiny to die, whether by the hands of your family or by the hands of the beast they were afraid of.
So if death is a certainty, why would you fear it?
Thatâs the final thought that pushes you out of bed and to the door. Your hand hesitated for a second. Then it was sure. You opened it, body tense.Â
No oneâs outside. No guard, no goblins, no king.
You pad out, feet bare and wearing only a nightgown. How deep inside the mountain are you, you wonder. Thereâs a draught blowing past, but no sound of the forest to fill the space. No voices. No footsteps. No life.
âWhere is everyone?â you mutter, padding forward.
Who can say how long you wander through the tunnels?Â
It feels like itâs been hours, though with the way time seems to pass differently, it could also have only been mere minutes.Â
Eventually, you spot light coming from a hollow in the walls. Carefully and with bated breath, you peer inside.
Steam wafts over your face.
Itâs warm â startlingly so against the chill that seems to cling to every corridor of the mountain. You hesitate again, also only a moment before stepping inside.Â
The ceiling arches high above, rough stone glistening with condensation, droplets forming and falling in slow, steady rhythms that echo softly in the space. The air is thick, humid, curling around your skin. It tickles.
At the centre of the chamber lies a pool.
Itâs set into a wide, uneven basin in the ground. The water glows faintly from beneath, lit by the same red-veined stones embedded along the walls, but here their light is softened, diffused through the steam until it casts everything in a hazy, molten glow.
The surface of the water ripples lazily, disturbed by unseen currents, by the quiet bubbling from somewhere deep below. Heat rises from it in waves, beckoning, almost inviting.
Who knew something like this existed inside a mountain?
Carefully, you approach the edge of the pool, crouching slightly as you extend a hand. Your fingers hover for a second before dipping into the water.
Hot.
But not scalding.
âA bath,â you mumble, smiling.
Here, of all places.
The servants had given you a bed to sleep on, a table to eat at, and a pot to do your business in that seemed to be cleaned out magically without you ever seeing anyone. What they hadnât granted, however, is the luxury of a bath. Only a bucket to and a rag to clean yourself with.Â
You glance back toward the tunnel, as if half-expecting someone, something, to be watching. But thereâs nothing and no one. Only the distant drip of water and the low hum of the mountain breathing around you.
Your reflection stares back at you from the shifting surface, blurred by steam and movement. The quiet stretches.
If youâll be killed for stepping outside your room, at least youâll die clean and fresh.Â
Shrugging off your nightgown, you dip your toe in the water, then your leg and the other, and soon youâre fully emerged.Â
âOh, thatâs wonderful,â you moan, letting the water soothe the aches in your bones. You sink deeper. The heat swallows you whole, up to your shoulders, then your chin. Your eyes flutter shut as you tilt your head back, strands of your hair clinging damply to your skin.
For a moment, just a moment, you forget. Forget the mountain, the monsters, the fate waiting patiently for you somewhere in its depths. The tension bleeds out of your limbs, your breathing slowing, evening out as the warmth seeps into you.
You drift, arms floating lazily at your sides.
A soft sigh escapes you. This is just like swimming in the lake near the village, except itâs warm and lovely and soothing.Â
ItâsâŠpeaceful.
Too peaceful.
Your eyes open.
Something feelsâŠoff suddenly. The water, once gently lapping, stills in a way that isnât natural. The faint bubbling from below seems to deepen, shift. Like something moving far beneath the surface.
Your body goes rigid.
Slowly, you glance down. The water is dark there. Deeper than it should be. The glow from the stones doesnât quite reach the bottom â it falls away into shadow, into something that looks less like a pool and more like a pit.
A pit that could swallow you whole.
Your breath catches.Â
ââŠHello?â you call softly, though you donât know why.
The surface trembles.
Something moves.
Your heart lurches into your throat. Instinct kicks in before thought does. You turn sharply, water sloshing as you begin to move, arms cutting through the surface, making for the edge.
Too slow.
Something clasps your ankle.
A gasp tears right through you, kicking hard, panic surging white-hot through your veins. âNo!â
It coils.
Grabs.
Your leg is yanked downward with terrifying force.
The world flips. Water crashes over your head as youâre dragged under, your scream swallowed instantly. You thrash, clawing at nothing, lungs burning whilst bubbles tear from your mouth. Your hands grasp blindly, trying to find purchase, to find anything.
A shape.
A body.
You strike it. Push against it. Kick, struggle, fight with everything in you, nails scraping against something solid, unyielding.Â
Then it lets go.
You donât wait.
You surge upward, breaking through the surface with a ragged gasp, coughing, choking on water as you scramble for the edge. Your hands slap against the stone, slipping once before catching, dragging yourself up just enough to cling to it. Your whole body trembles violently.
Air. You need air.Â
You suck it in greedily, chest heaving, water dripping from your lashes as your eyes dart wildly across the pool. âW-whatâŠâ you choke out, voice shaking.Â
A sound answers you. A low, amused exhale.
Your blood runs cold. Slowly, hesitantly, you turn your head.
Heâs here.
The King of Curses.
Sukuna lounges against the inner ledge of the pool as though heâs always been there. One arm is slung lazily over the stone behind him, another resting loosely at his side, droplets sliding down the planes of his skin. And the remaining two are folded under the water.
Heâs watching you.Â
No, observing you.Â
That smirk curls at his lips, sharp and satisfied, eyes glinting with something dark and entertained. âWell,â he drawls, voice echoing low against the stone walls, âyour floundering was amusing.â
âW-why,â you begin, gulping air and frantically shoving the wet hair clinging away from your face, âwhy did you do that?â
A hum floats through the air, carried by the steam. It sweeps your skin. Sukuna says, âBecause I could.â Then he barks a laugh. âWhen I came here to wash the stink of my latest massacre, I did not expect to find a human bathing in my onsen. How brazen of you.â
When he snaps his fingers together, you flinch.Â
Uraume appears.Â
Their head is downcast. They donât look at your body, which you suddenly remember is bare and visible through the clear water. You throw your arms over your private parts.Â
âWho is this woman and why have you not killed her upon her first step of trespass?â he asks his servant. Sukuna doesnât sound mad. Only curious.Â
âBecause she is your bride, my Lord.â
You flinch at the term.Â
Sukuna barks a laugh again. âMy bride? My bride! How comical that I would forget I have one.â He turns to you, eyes narrowing in with interest. âWhy have you only now appeared before me?â
Gulping, you tentatively answer, âI did not think you would want to see me. And Iâm sorry I intrudedââ
âWise,â he says, one of his massive arms running through his wet hair. âI am not usually fond of seeing humans; you are all so hideous and constantly quivering in my presence.â
Thereâs no possible way to reply to that, not without getting your blood spilled for insolence.Â
He stands upon the ledge and exits the pool.Â
Heâs completely naked, as you are. His broad back, the impressive muscles that make it up, the perfectly symmetrical tattoos. He turns. His cocks swings with the movement. You quickly avert your eyes, cheeks warm.Â
If Sukuna notices that you noticed, he doesnât say. Only, âTry not to drown â my pet swims beneath but he has already had his fill. Do not fatten him with your flesh.â
When you hurriedly climb out, squealing, his laughter echoes, filling the space even once his body, and his servantâs, have left.Â
You kneel on the smooth ground, panting, soaked and dripping, and thinking one thing:
The Curse King has a sense of humour.
And two giant cocks.
.
.
.
The next day, you find yourself back at the pool.Â
You tell yourself itâs simply because you want to bathe, but perhaps if you were more honest with yourself, youâd accept that maybe you were curious to see if heâd be there.Â
And he is.
Sukuna leans against the very same ledge he had been yesterday. He watches your every move, from when you first step in, to when you shyly shrug off your nightgown, and when you submerge yourself in the warm water.
Something has brought you here.Â
A pull you could not deny.
Thinking too much about it gives you a headache, so you let your body move on its own, unhindered by logic, by your mindâs concerns. You want to bathe, to be clean. He hadnât killed you yesterday, and that counts for something.Â
Of course, you know the smart thing to do would be to not push it, to understand that two run-ins with him that didnât lead to immediate death doesnât mean a third would end the same, to count your blessings.Â
ButâŠ
Bath.
He says nothing, only runs a finger across the seam of his lips as his eyes drink up every shift of your body.
Boldly, albeit shakily, you ask, âWhy havenât you killed me yet?â
Sukunaâs eyes glint.Â
âI wonder the same thing myself.â
Thatâs not an answer, you note. But you donât poke, scared if you do, if you push your limits more than you already have, heâll snap your head as easily as he had snapped his fingers.Â
The way his eyes pin you down on the ledge opposite him has you squirming in your seat. Itâs too intense. Too strong. Too dizzying. So you try to pretend itâs not cascading down the skin visible to him; you push forward, wading in the water. You stare at the ceiling, at the distance, at the darkness of the depths, at anything but him.Â
âMy village offered me as sacrifice,â you remind him. âWill you spare them?â
Somewhere, he lazily replies, âI have yet to decide.â
Humming, as though you thought as much, you wonder aloud, âWhat will you do with me? I cannot imagine that the King of Curses would find much use in a human wife.â
âNo, neither can I,â Sukuna drawls.
On and on, you swim. Arms cut through the water in slow, steady strokes, legs kicking behind you in a rhythm thatâs begun to feel automatic. Thereâs no sense of direction, no shore to aim for, just the endless stretch of water surrounding you, thick and quiet, swallowing any sound you might make. Time slips, dissolves, until all that remains is movement for the sake of movement.
Then, as you turn, your hand meets something solid.Â
The impact is soft but jarring, your palm flattening instinctively against it. A wall. Smooth, unmoving, impossibly present where there had only ever been open water.
You gasp.Â
Sukuna stands behind you.Â
The bottom of the pool had risen. You still cannot reach it, but youâre aware that if you tried to, the waterâs surface would be just above your head. The pool is under his command, bending to his will. How incredible.
Bare, wet skin meets bare, wet skin.Â
The heat of his body is hotter than that of the water.Â
He doesnât step away despite how the water seems to be pushing you to him.Â
How did he get to you so fast? Last you saw, he was still sitting on the ledge. No, perhaps the better question is, why had he moved closer to you at all?
Hands grab your ribs. You gasp. Theyâre firm, callused. Burning.
âWife?â he repeats, wide smirk revealing rows of flesh-tearing teeth. âYou are not my wife. You are my bride. I am sure even a puny, little thing like you understand that there is a process to be followed, yes?â
A nail flicks your nipple under the water.Â
You let out a shuddery breath.Â
The other two hands grip the back of your thighs, lifting them till theyâre wrapping around his hips. The top half of your body has emerged from the water, water dripping down. You throw your arms around his neck, a reflex to grab onto something before you fall.Â
Breasts presses to his chest. He must feel how hard your nipples are. Youâre flushed with embarrassment, and an acute awareness of how much bigger his own body is to yours â if he wanted to, he could crush you with his bare hands.
Sukunaâs sharp fangs glint at the very peaks as he runs his tongue over them. âFor you to be my wife, we would have to observe tradition. Do you understand what I refer to, little human?â
Breathless, you answer with your own question: âDo you refer to the wedding night, my Lord?â
One of his cocks pokes your entrance. You tense up.Â
Youâve seen their size; they are inhumanly big. They could not fit inside you, not without the preparation that the women in your village had giggled about, perhaps not even with.
But he doesnât shove it inside you all in one go.Â
He doesnât shove it inside at all.
The king merely slides you down his body, just a little, until that cock is sandwiched between your bodies.Â
It bumps a good spot on your cunt. You gasp.
âI do,â Sukuna says, huffing in amusement at your reaction. âI admit I have not been married before myself, but it is one aspect I am curious about.â
His strong hands are moving you up and down, testing every little sound that leaves your lips. And youâre letting him.
Is there something in the water? Some elixir thatâs making you susceptible to his whims? An aphrodisiac stimulating wetness out of your pussy?
He must feel it, must feel how it drips down his length. Just like how you can feel the prominent veins of a cock thatâs grown fully erect without you noticing. How long has he been like this? Since you walked in? Before?
Your nipples are scraping his chest. The sensation has you arching closer to him, grip around his body tightening. âM-my Lord!â
Sukuna tuts, moving you up and down like youâre a mere toy for his pleasure. He scolds, âThat is not my name.â
âSukuna?â you experimentally mutter the words. His cock throbs. You both groan. âS-somethingâs happening.â
Hips moving on their own, you feel as though youâve been possessed. Your body is no longer your own â some invisible thing is urging you to grind down on his cock, on that burning heat between you, rubbing your clit on his flushed cockhead, on the veins that run up and down his length.
Humming, he says, quite distracted, âYes. Something is. Allow it to happen. Do not fight it.â
This is pleasure youâve never felt before. Pleasure you didnât know truly existed. The women in your village always spoke of sexual pleasure as something only for men, joy a girl would be lucky to experience even once, if their partner was generous and not selfish, which was apparently rare.Â
Yet, here is, grinding your clit on the veins of his cock.
He licks his lips. âGo on, little human. Give it to me.â
With a loud moan, you throw your head back. Spasms wrack your body. A heady explosion warms your belly. Spurts of something even warmer paint your chest and stomach.Â
Sukuna grunts, fingers digging into the plush of your ass.Â
âFuck.â
Your head falls back on his chest, slumping with sudden languishness. You pant. His chest rises with his own heavier breaths.Â
Coming back into your own senses, you tense. Then push away. He lets you.Â
âIâm so sorry,â you say, in near tears from shame. âPlease forgive me, my Lord.â
You wade back, further and further away from him. Blood has pooled in your cheeks. What have you done? If he wasnât going to kill you before, he certainly will now that youâve defiled his body.
He pays you no mind. The water around his still body ripples. Sukuna grunts. Sucks in a harsh breath. Water laps at his contracting abdomen. Furious. Violent. You cannot tear your eyes away from the sight.Â
Oh godâŠheâs tugging furiously at his other cock whilst the other floats. His own spend is drying on his chest.Â
Mouth watering, you almost step forward to offer a hand.
But you donât.
Instead, you turn around and make a run back to your room.
.
.
.
You havenât returned to the pool. Not once in the week that passed.
He might not have killed you but one thingâs certain: you do not want to run into him again.Â
Especially now that youâve caught his attention. Reminded him of your existence. Which is as one would expect: worse than being forgotten. So, so, so much worse.Â
For, every day since the meeting at the pool, heâs taken to dropping off severed limbs at your door. Still warm. Still bleeding. Often twitching. First it was a big toe. Then a whole foot. A finger. A hand. An arm.Â
And today, a head.
A scream shook the walls once your eyes landed on the thing.
Your scream.
Perhaps itâs adrenaline that urges every stomp your feet make. Perhaps anger or indignation. Whatever it is, it has you near-running through the halls, searching in every hollow for him.Â
An almost full circle has been carved at the very end of one tunnel you stumble down. Vines creep out of it. You step inside, heaving, and with fists balled at your side.Â
A garden.
It stretches farther than your eyes can follow, lush and sprawling, like the earth itself had been coaxed open and persuaded to bloom in defiance of everything you thought you knew about this place. The ceiling arches high above, fractured in places where thin shafts of pale light filter through, catching on drifting pollen and casting the entire space in a soft, dreamlike haze.
The air is warm here. Heavy with scent.
Sweet. Overripe. Almost intoxicating.
Itâs not a human garden, you can tell immediately; the grass is black, as is the soil, and the roots which emerge from the ground are red. Things that couldnât exist in the same place do, cohabiting quite well.Â
Flowers youâve never seen before crowd the ground in wild abundance â petals like silk and flame, some translucent, others so dark they seem to drink in the light. Vines coil and twist up natural pillars of stone, heavy with blossoms. Leaves skim against your legs as you step forward, wide and waxy, or delicate as lace, each one foreign.
âHowâŠ?â you whisper, though there is no answer. It shouldnât have been possible to have a whole forest inside a mountain. But then again, a great many things shouldnât have been possible, yet they are.
The path, if it can even be called that, winds forward through the growth, barely visible beneath the encroaching green. It feels endless. Like you could spend your entire life sprinting down the path and never make it to the end.
There, some distance ahead, partially obscured by the curtain of hanging vines, a figure moves.
You freeze.
Bare feet press against the dark soil, soundless. A loose robe hangs from his shoulders, open just enough to reveal the breadth of his chest and the markings etched into his skin stark against the softness of the garden around him. One hand drags idly along the leaves as he walks.
âHello, little bride.â
It still surprises you that he can utter the word so casually. You donât flinch this time however. You only glower and maintain the distance. âWhy have you been giving me body parts?â you interrogate, grateful that your voice is as firm as when you had rehearsed.
Sukuna lifts one shoulder in a shrug. âWhy have you not stepped foot outside your room since?â
He resumes walking.
Toward you.
Each step is unhurried, deliberate, crushing petals beneath his feet without a second thought. The garden seems to part for him, bending subtly to his presence, vines shifting, leaves snaking aside in quiet submission.
You donât move.
You tell yourself you wonât.
Your pulse stutters anyway.
âYou fear me,â Sukuna observes, like heâs stating something obvious. His eyes drag over you, taking in every inch, every subtle shift in your breathing, the way your fingers curl tighter at your sides. âAnd yet you came looking.â
âBecause I want to know why youâve been giving me body parts,â you snap.
âMm.â
Heâs closer now.
Close enough that you can feel the heat of him, even in the thick, perfumed air of the garden. Close enough that you can see the faint sheen of moisture still clinging to his skin, the slow rise and fall of his chest beneath the loose fall of his robe.
Another step.
Instinct finally kicks in; you shift back, just one pace.
The corner of his mouth lifts. âI was curious.â
Your brows knit. âAbout what?â
âHow long it would take,â he says lightly, âfor you to stop hiding.â A finger traces the curve of your cheek. You hold your breath, staring up at him, waiting for his next move. Sukuna mutters, âHow odd that your scent would be so much sweeter than the flowers that grow here. It makes me wonder.â
Why is heat travelling down your body? Why arenât you running away, revolted by his touch or the gravel in his voice? Were you still thinking about the feel of his body against yours, both naked, in the pool? Of the cocks whose soft lengths had been engrained in your mind?
His nostrils flare.Â
A flash in his eyes.
âThere it is,â he rasps. âA scent I could not escape, so much more potent now.â
In a blink of an eye, youâre flipped over, dangling in the air. He has you by the ankle, lifted high up.Â
You grab onto his robe, which has parted. Right in front of you is his cock. Both of them. Neither soft now. Definitely not soft. One smacks you right against the face. It leaves a wet mark.Â
The musk of a refined monster hits you. ItâsâŠitâs addictive. Your mouth waters again, stronger this time than the time at the pool now that theyâre so much closer to you. Irresistible.Â
Sukuna presses a nose to the apex of your thighs. Skin on skin. You jolt.
Your dress had fallen down your body, ballooning around your face. You hold the material away â he can see everything. That fact has you aware that you can see him too. The thickness of his cocks, the lengths rivalling your forearm, the weight of the balls beneath. Everything about him is massive. Intended to subjugate. Designed to dominate.Â
âYou are already wet. Soaked,â he muses, thoroughly humoured. He rubs his nose on your clit, nuzzling the little bud. You dig your nails into his thighs. âFilthy, little human.â
Thatâs all he says before he licks a stripe through your slit.
âSukuna!â
âMm. Dessert. Just in time.â
The beast licks and laps and sucks. It isnât anything like the women at the village described â men are supposed to be reluctant, theyâre supposed to be frightened. Sukuna isnât. Heâs consuming your juices as though starved, needing nourishment.Â
In front of you, something emerges from his skin.
A wolfish grin.
Thereâs a mouth on his stomach, lips curled up and teeth gleaming. You scream, fighting to get out of his tight hold.
SMACK!
Sukuna slapped your ass. A dull heat blossoms on the flesh. He commands, âStay still. I cannot dine when you worm like so.â
SMACK! SMACK! SMACK!
Cruelly, he lays short slaps right on your clit, sending juices splashing onto your skin. The way his palm sticks, the sloppy noises, it's all so degrading. Heâs doing it on purpose. Heâs revelling in your clear desire for him.
Youâre almost too distracted by the sight of a second, bigger mouth. Almost. But nothing can truly, wholly tear your attention away from the sucking of your clit and the way a fire is being lit in your very core. Soon, a thick tongue finds your entrance and buries itself inside. Your eyes roll back.
A hot, wet thing slides up the valley of your breasts. Slithering. Testing. Tasting.
The mouth, you realise. Itâs sticking its fat tongue out, licking your breasts the way Sukunaâs face mouth is licking the inside of your cunt, stretching your walls, teasing the pleats there.Â
âDelicious,â one of them says. You canât tell which. So much is happening at once. Too many to process.Â
At your lips, one of his cockheads smears its seed. You lick your lips. Itâs salty. Eyes fixed on the frighteningly red thing, you open your mouth to suckle at it. That familiar possession has returned. Youâre being controlled by an invisible force â your jaw has to widen to take the bulbous head. Your tongue runs over the tip, where thereâs a slit.Â
Sukuna groans, pleased. Then he growls, âDo not neglect the other.â
Slightly afraid, you do as he says. The other cock is just as hard, just as big and long as the one youâre sucking on. It throbs approvingly when you tug on it.Â
âGood,â he groans out. âVery good, little bride.â
Obscene squelches are coming from above. Itâs a reminder of how wet you are for him. Of how delirious the pleasure is. Of how you arenât disgusted by the magical tongue flicking your tits, playing with the mounds, running the tip of it over your nipples. Youâre not disgusted by the salty taste of him, of how he seems to be constantly leaking.
Heâs lapping up at your pussy so furiously that he makes frustrated, wrathful sounds; heâs mad that youâre not producing enough wetness to match the pace in which heâs drinking it up.
âMore,â he commands. âGive me more. Now.â
Sukuna pushes his face closer, uncaring of the fact that youâre making a mess all over his cheeks. He only has one thing on his mind.Â
âIâm gonna cum,â you warn him, mouth full and words garbled. The unfamiliar word leaves your lips so naturally you think youâd been warning him all your life of your impending orgasm.
Unfortunately, the warning is wasted. You donât think he even hears the words with your thighs muffling his ears.
âSukuna!â
The very same feeling, the same sensations, as the time in the pool rushes through you. Bolts of lightning thrum beneath the surface of your skin. You shudder, moaning lewdly.Â
He doesnât stop. If anything, heâs only emboldened by the juices overflowing out of you. Slurrrrrping! so animatedly. So viciously. So animalistically.Â
A feral beast sucking your sensitive clit into another orgasm only minutes later.Â
Itâs too much. It almost hurts. You slap at his meaty thigh. That seems to snap him out of his mania.
In a flash, youâre flipped back upright. Blood descends down your body. Lightheaded, your knees weaken. He catches you, lifting you up in his arms all while heâs collecting as much of your juices off his skin he can reach with his tongue.
ThudâŠthudâŠthudâŠ
Sukuna strolls through the garden and back out into the rocky halls, robe discarded. Your dress is soaked with a mix of your juices, sweat, and his saliva. Youâre filthy. He doesnât complain.
Thankfully, thereâs no one in the hallways to witness the remnants, of the proof, of your mutual debauchery.
âI have never considered myself as having a sweet tooth,â Sukuna begins, musing to himself, âbut now I believe I would very much like to have dessert after every meal. What do you say, little human?â
âHmm,â you sleepily hum.
âThen we are in agreement,â Sukuna concludes, pleased.
Your eyes flutter shut, too tired to keep them open. Before you fall into slumber, you feel a bed much softer than you remember cushion your body.Â
A hardness flanks you.
You dream of many hands brushing your hair, patting your hip, rubbing your belly, and tracing your cheek.
.
.
.
Since youâve come to accept your odd relationship with the King of Curses, youâve been spending an awful amount of time with him lately.Â
It started off with him keeping you in his room.Â
Itâs a much nicer room than yours. Infinitely so. Almost triple the size and more lavishly decorated â a huge bed with silk sheets and a canopy with deep velvet curtains, a plush rug, dark red orchids in intricate and complex positions upon a table, paintings of different moments in time of human suffering that concerningly do not bother you.
You always find yourself back in here.Â
Whenever you wander through the halls, the walls seem to shift. They lead you back to his room. At first you were hesitant to enter, and youâd try to go a different way, but the caves insisted.
He isnât here ever.Â
So youâve started to think of it as your own.Â
During meal times, thatâs when youâd see Sukuna.Â
Uraume would often escort you out of the room and into the dining hall. Another enormous space. Youâd dine with him, and only him. Thereâd be curses posted inside, but they always step out, to give you privacy you assume. Naturally, these mealtimes were awkward for you in the beginning.Â
Sukuna didnât speak. Not at first. He would just watch you eat, which only made you feel more awkward.Â
You were the one who broke the silence. âAre you⊠are you not going to eat, my Lord?â you asked tentatively.
A devious grin came upon his face. Happy he won a competition you didnât know you signed up for. He replied, âI will. I am simply fattening up my pig before I devour her.â
Heat flushed through you. Cutlery clinking against the fine china, you gulped. There was a dangerous awareness of the darkness of his eyes feasting upon your flesh â you felt its weight sliding down the plumpness of your cheeks, the length of your neck, your collarbones, and your breasts which threatened to spill out from the confines of your dress.Â
Perhaps fear should have overtaken you at that moment.
Only relief and desire did.Â
What set you on edge most was not knowing what he wanted from you, why he had Uraume collect you, why he was wasting his time here when he could be doing kingly duties.Â
Now that he had made clear what he was seeking, you could allow yourself to rest easy and actually taste the food you were shovelling into your mouth.Â
âI am the pig in question?âÂ
âYes,â he replied immediately. A hand shoved a plate of pancakes towards you, encouraging. âYou certainly squeal like one.â
Frowning, and pushing the plate away because you have too much to eat already, you argued, âI do not.â
âDo too,â he said, pushing the plate back towards you.
âDo not!â
An arm wrapped around your waist faster than you could see. Another swiped the food off the table. Everything fell with cacophonous clangs and bangs and splats!Â
Sukuna placed you on the table, which was now bereft of food. Your back met the hard wood. Your legs were thrown over his shoulders. Dress hiked up your waist. You were bared to him. Two of his callused hands yanked you closer to his face. Those four eyes, all scarlet and glinting up at you, didnât look away.Â
He wanted you to watch him take a long whiff of your cunt.
His grip tightened on you once your scent hit him with full force. His eyes rolled back. Sukuna snarled, âLetâs see which of us is right.â
There were no soft kisses upon your sensitive skin, no caresses. Only unrestrained feasting. He immediately latched onto your clit, sucking on the thing with a fury. You cried out.Â
The king was frightening in his aggression.Â
He was gulping down every drop your pussy produced to please him, and it wasnât nearly enough. Terrifying growls shook the table.Â
Sukuna seemed addicted to making your cunt let out vulgar squelchessss!
They came in quick succession. One after the other. Loud and clear. Displaying how well he was playing with your clit.Â
âLook at how your cunt flutters, searching for my cocks,â he mused, thumbing the entrance but not pushing in. âAnd look how your petals have grown swollen with blood. Oh, I bet your blood tastes as good as your pussy. Weâll test that too, another day.â
Stammering, you pleaded, âDonât look!âÂ
He stared too intently. Saw too much. It was more intimate than being tasted.Â
âNonsense,â Sukuna said, waving you off. âI will look as I please, and I very much do.â
In response to his renewed lapping of your juices, you could only writhe and run your nails down the wood for anything to ground you.
âDo not waste your claws on the table,â he spat, spare hands snatching your ups and offering his wrists for you to dig into. You hesitated, chest heaving and vision swimming. Then he asked, âYou do not find my flesh good enough to mark? You wish to offend your groom when he is at the altar of your legs?â
You didnât want to know what he was like when he was offended so you clung to his thick wrists. You made a mental note not to actually scratch him â that seemed a more criminal act than offending him â but the pleasure born from his ravishing of your pussy bordered on pain and you could not help yourself.
The very moment your nails caught on his skin and broke through, one of the hands that was keeping your shaking legs apart darted out. It landed on your chest. With brutish finesse, it ripped your bodice. Cool air grazed over your breasts. That hand latched onto a tit.Â
âW-whatâ Oh God!â you screamed.Â
SomethingâŠ
Something on his palm was suckling your nipple, like a babe.Â
Sukunaâs amused huff vibrated through your pussy, sending shivers up your spine. âNo, not God, little bride. It is me. My mouth is making you feel good. But,â he adds after a little thought, âI do not mind being worshipped as a deity, heh.â
How could he be so nonchalant when two sets of mouths were eating you up, when your eyes were at risk of being permanently lodged at the back of your head? How could he make conversation so easily when his tongue, which felt so impossibly long, was wriggling through your walls and teasing the entrance to your womb? When the mouth at his palm was suctioning your nipple into that impossible space?
âDelicious,â he snarled, positively starved of your taste. âSo fucking sweet. How can a human be soâŠsoâŠdivine? It defies nature.â
He wasnât talking to you anymore. He was manically muttering to himself, reasoning with his own understanding of the balance of life. It baffled him. Bewildered him. Excited him. Sukuna could not get enough of you.
Whining, you called out his name, âS-Sukuna! Itâs too -hngh!- much. I canât.â
âCum,â he said.Â
Your head shook, thrashed. âNo, I -hah- canât!â
âCum,â he repeated. No, commanded. Ordered. Demanded.Â
And you could not deny a king.Â
You fell apart on the dining table with a scream. Wetness rushed out of you as though a dam had broken. He drank it all up. Slurrrrrpeddd! every single drop until you were writhing again. And when he growled, âMore,â and, âAgain,â you could not deny him then either.
It might have been hours later before he decided heâd had his fill.
Aside from meal times, you donât see him during the day. Heâs always gone. No one will tell you why, and you donât feel brave enough to ask. You merely assume heâs doing kingly duties â keeping the curses of the Underworld and of the forests in line, maintaining balance between humans and monsters, and protecting his people.Â
In the meantime, you read in his room, which is now your room. There are plenty of books here. More than you could ever read in a lifetime, and certainly more than there ever were in your village. Itâs hard to imagine he read any of the books in the collection but there are signs of use: folded pages, cracked spines, yellowing.Â
He read each one you had opened.Â
Poems.Â
Novellas.Â
Journals of travels beyond.Â
You donât mind the hours spent on your own; the goblins walking along still scare you so you avoid running into them. Of course, thereâs always the option to ask during your mealtimes, in between him eating you out and actually consuming food, if you could visit the village (for you know returning was too much). Not that you especially wanted to go home.Â
The villagers had sold you.Â
Abandoned you.
They would not welcome you home.Â
So you must consider the heart of the mountain your new home.
Itâs simply about asking, about knowing the answer, about having the option.
But each time you considered bringing up your village to him, you backed out at the last second. He was not your husband. Not really. Not yet. Heâs not even really your groom. That just seems like an excuse to do the salacious things youâve been doing. At most, heâs your friend, and you cannot burden your friend more than you already have.Â
Truthfully, it hardly matters what exactly he is to you. Heâs nice. Attentive. Generous. He hasnât killed you, he hasnât hurt you, hasnât massacred your village and your family, and hasnât thrown back in your face any of those facts.Â
Thatâs why every morning, when you know Uraume will escort you, you make sure never to be late.
You obediently, possibly excitedly, wait in front of the door for the knock.Â
You slide a hand down your new dress; it appeared in the closet, and is your size. It certainly isnât Sukunaâs. Red lace, soft silk, dainty bows, easy to move in and breathe â itâs a beautiful dress. Far more expensive and luxurious than anything youâd ever owned. The chest areaâs a little tight; it pushes your breasts up more than youâre used to, and somehow youâre sure that was on purpose.Â
When the door opens, Uraumeâs patient self leads you out. Theyâre quiet. Respectful. They have been since the very first night.Â
âThank you.â
Cold eyes flit to you. âWhat ever for, my lady?â
âFor saving me,â you say, fiddling with the lace on your dress. âIf you hadnât suggested that he humour me, Sukuna would haveââ
âThe king,â Uraume cuts in, spine straight and gaze fixed ahead now, âdoes only as he pleases. It is his right. He grows bored of his new toys very quickly, and it is my duty to keep him entertained. I saw an opportunity to fulfil my responsibility. That is all.â
You have no response to that. You only blink, surprised and berating yourself for being so. Sukuna may be your friend, in your eyes at least, but Uraume is not. Sukuna may not mind the fact that you are human, but others may not share the same sentiment. Maybe Uraume thinks you are a plague. A rat. Thatâs often the story humans spread about curses and their philosophies.
Soon, you reach the double doors leading to the garden. Before the doors are opened, they add, âIt is also my duty to throw old toys away.â
When you turn to look at them, theyâre already gone.
âFinally,â Sukuna says, exasperated. âI resent being kept waiting. Walk here with haste, little bride.â
Uraumeâs words linger in your mind; Sukunaâs sharp rows of teeth flash washes them away.Â
Heâs in his loose robes, bottom set of arms tucked into the wide sleeves. A hand beckons you over, and the moment you are within reach, he snatches you up. Youâre carried up in his arms, high enough to come face to face with him and see all four of his eyes watching you.Â
Sukuna nuzzles the crook of your neck. He starts walking down the path. Branches tickle the top of your head. âDid you sleep well?â he wonders. His voice vibrates against your skin. It tickles.
Gripping his hair for purchase, you murmur, âYes.â Then, shuddering once his lips explores the length of your neck, you ask, âDid you?â
âI do not sleep,â he casually replies.Â
Within minutes, heâs managed to walk so deep into the garden that the surroundings have changed from exotic flowers full of vibrant colours and shapes to a forest of cherry blossoms. Petals whirl around you, swirling with the gentle wind.Â
Above you, the cave walls have shifted into the blue and vast open sky.Â
You gasp. âAre weâŠare we outside?â
The brightness almost sting your eyes; you have to narrow them with a wince to avoid being blinded. The smell of fresh air too nearly burns your nostrils. The chatter of live animals and insects are near deafening at first. Everythingâs so different, so new, yet so familiar, so ordinary that it becomes magical to your senses.Â
He parts from your neck to eye your reaction. The smile on your face makes his grip on you tighten. Sukuna says, âYes. Your complexion looked rather dull without sunlight, and my bride must be at her very best at all times. So here we are.â
That doesnât sound quite true upon his lips but you donât question him on it.Â
Instead, you beam at him and gush, âThank you! Oh, itâs wonderful out.â
Itâs easy to forget what the world above is like when youâve spent countless nights under the mountain with rocks for company.Â
Sukuna sets you down. You waste no time running around, laughing at the green grass that tickles your bare feet.Â
The grass inside the mountainâs garden is black, with roots being red, for reasons you could not fathom. Itâs coarser too. The softness of this green, human grass, in comparison, sets your heart racing.
Thereâs no wind inside the mountain, only a draught. This calm air is fresher, warmer, soothing on the body and doesnât settle.Â
And the warmth of the sunâŠ
Beams of distant fire soaks into your skin. You sigh, a small smile on your lips.Â
When you turn back, heâs sitting under a tree, all arms crossed and watching you. Always watching. Always aware of your every move, every position, every shift.Â
Somewhat shy with the realisation that heâd seen the entire display, you stroll back to his side.Â
âIt is a lovely day out, yes?â he says.Â
You nod, grinning. âItâs perfect. Just perfect.â
About to sit beside him, you let out a squeal when he snatches you up again and sits you down on his lap. All of his arms cage you. Sukuna rests his chin on the top of your head.Â
âNow it is,â he mumbles, chest rumbling against your back.Â
You smile again, more coy this time, and grateful he canât see it.
The grass is untouched. No footprints mar it. No broken twigs, no distant rustling of hidden creatures. It is a forest, yes, but stripped of all the unease that forests usually carry.
It is only you and him.Â
Your fingers curl into the fabric of his sleeve as another petal lands on your lap. You pick it up, studying it like it might vanish if you blink too long. Glancing back at him, you tilt your head slightly. âDid youâŠmake this place like this?â
His chin presses a little more firmly into your hair, a quiet, possessive weight. âIt exists on its own,â he says. âI allow it to remain.â
Another petal skims your lips. Without thinking, you laugh â light, bright, unguarded â as you try to catch it, only for it to slip away again, carried by a breeze that barely stirs the trees.
âYouâre noisy,â he mutters.
Yet he does not tell you to stop.
You lean back into him instead, comfortable now, warm from the sun and from him both. One of his hands idly flicks a petal from your shoulder, the motion almost absent-minded, as though he doesnât realise heâs doing it. Or perhaps he does. And simply doesnât care.
Your gaze drifts across the clearing again, softer this time. Slower. Relaxed, you ask, âYou said you donât sleep. What do you do at night?â
Sukuna hums, fingers drumming on your stomach. âI take care of my business.â
Thatâs vague, you think, but you donât push. Instead, you ask another question: âWhy do you not return to the chambers?â
He chuckles, teasing. âHow forward of you, little bride. We have not yet been wed and youâre already asking to share the marital bed. Is this how you humans do it in this day and age?â
Heat flushes your cheeks. You smack one of his wandering hands, which has crept up to cradle a breast, and huff, âNo, thatâs not what Iâm saying. I just mean, everyone needs sleep. Surely even you, the King of Curses. I wonder how you rest is all.â
A moment of contemplation passes.
Did you say something wrong? Did you go too far?
Did he hate that you smacked him?Â
âYou are right,â he eventually says, head coming down to nudge you. His lips gently touches your cheek. âI do need rest. So allow me.â
His strong hands easily lift you off his lap, placing you down on the grass. Sukuna unfolds his large body and comes to lie perpendicular to you. His head weighs your thighs down.Â
With a wave of his hand, a book appears in your left hand at the same time he takes your right and cradles it to his chest. âRead,â he instructs. âRead to me. And after my nap, I will eat your little cunt and slap your clit thrice to punish you for smacking my hand even just once.â
A flutter at your core has his eyes peering up at you, glinting. He must have sensed it. Somehow. Whether by feeling or by smell. How mortifying.Â
âOr,â he starts, âI can eat you out now. I am fine with whatever order you prefer.â
âNo, Iâll read,â you hurriedly say. You flick to the first page, reading the words out loud and only sighing in relief when his eyes flutter shut at the sound of your voice.Â
Sukunaâs lips curl up in the corner.
And so a new tradition is born.
.
.
.
âMy Lord,â Uraume repeats outside the door, âthey wait for you.â
Sukuna growls out, âLet them. I am preoccupied.â
Youâre pressed to the door, the cold wood warming up to the flush of your cheek. Bottom lip bitten in a desperate attempt to keep quiet, you can do nothing else but let him rut his scalding length between your thighs.Â
This evening, heâd woken you up with his tongue buried inside your cunt. It seems after another whole day out in the garden, reading and strolling with him and tasting each other beneath trees before or after his naps, you fell asleep and were carried back into your chambers.Â
Has it been days or weeks since youâve built up this routine of spending the days together and spending evenings apart?
Time seems to pass so quickly and yet so slowly. Itâs begun to lose all meaning to you. Itâs not a fact you lament.
You jolted with a shriek at the hulking figure under your covers. âAbout time,â he said, throwing the heavy thing off and baring how his skin glistened with your spend to you. âI thought I might have to fuck you with both my cocks at once to wake you.â
He was joking, you were sure. Or hopedâŠ
âWake me?â you repeated, back arching. âW-why?â
Sukuna replied, a fang rubbing your clit and being especially careful not to cut you, âBecause I must leave again, but I did not want to without hearing my name upon your lips.â
A whine tore through you. âWhy couldnât you just wake me up the normal way?â
Red eyes flashed mischievously from below. He licked a strike up your inner thigh all while not breaking eye contact. âBecause normal does not taste as good.â
Uraumeâs voice called out soon after, reminding him of the evening meeting. You stiffened. Could they hear you? Do they know what he was doing with you on the bed?Â
Feeling embarrassed, you kicked Sukuna off and tried to push him to the door. You hissed, âYou need to go. They need you.â
A hand slid inside your dress and groped your breast, cursed mouth appearing to nurse on your nipple. Another lifted your skirt up so that a third can coat its fingers in your cuntâs essence with the intention of easing the entry inside.Â
âSo does your cunt,â he said. âAnd I know which I would rather attend to first.â
Oh, he was filthy. So, so filthy.
And so persuasive.Â
With you continuing, and struggling, to shake him off â legs quivering from the number his mouths had done to you today â you eventually made it to the door and was about to open it when something hot and heavy rested upon the curve of your ass and a second parted your puffy pussy lips.Â
It was almost like he planned this.Â
âDo not make a noise,â Sukuna rakishly rasped to your ear. Two rough hands gripped your bare hips, dressed hiked up over your ass. âLest youâd like for Uraume to know what weâre doing.â
You definitely did not â they donât like you very much. This wouldnât help your case.Â
ButâŠ
His cocks are rubbing you up and down and back and forth. His fat cockhead keeps catching on your pulsing clit, bumping the thing over and over again until your cuntâs drooling on his veiny length.Â
âPress your thighs together. Tighter,â he commands, and groaning once you do. âEvery part of you feels so good. Itâs maddening.â
The pleasure building up in your core from a few thrusts is maddening. Truly. Irrevocably. You canât tell him that, however. You canât speak; if you do, a loud moan might slip out.Â
Sukunaâs grunting in your ear. The sounds are driving you wild. As is the fact that your tits are out and are being squeezed relentlessly by two hands. Mouths take over his palms. They donât hesitate to latch onto your nipples. You gasp, head thrown back into his chest. âSukuna!â
âMm, I know,â he huskily says. âMe too. Be good, pretty human. Just allow me to use your thighs for now.â
Heâs so tall your hips have to be lifted up to reach his cocks. Your toes dangle over the ground. You hang precariously but you never worry for a second that he might drop you.Â
Shlick! Shlickkk!Â
The sounds are obscene and theyâre all you can hear. Uraume must hear them too. Yet, theyâre still out there, saying, âMy Lord, please. The council grows restless.â
Sukunaâs livid growl shakes the door. âThey. Will. Wait. Do not interrupt me again.â
His rutting speeds up. The sucking of his cursed mouths intensifies. The tip of the cock behind you is smearing pre-cum on your back, and the sensation has you clenching around nothing.Â
âIâm cumming,â you whisper, eyes shut tight. âNghhh!â
âGood,â he breathes out. âGood girl.â
You bring a hand down to your cunt, cupping the cockhead appearing and disappearing with every shallow thrust through your lips. It nudges your palm, squelching! and leaving wet sploodges of his cum and yours. Sukuna snarls.
And just like that, he cums too. His hot cum explodes into your hand, spilling through the cracks of your fingers and splatting onto the floor. More cum bursts on your back, dirtying your dress.
Itâs so hot. Scalding.Â
He keeps ploughing between your soft thighs, wringing out every last drop until he shudders with a growl and you slump completely in his grasp.Â
When he pivots you around to check on you, specifically the cheek that had been pressed up against the door, you see his loose robe had fallen open. Some of his cum has ended up dripping down his skin. Heâs tattooed and chiselled and hard everywhere. A true killing machine. You run your fingers down his chest, smearing his cum around, all the way to his stomach where a massive mouth manifests in time to clamp onto your wrist with a grin.Â
His teeth donât break skin. They donât even hurt. They merely keep your hand inside, huge tongue slithering to lick every finger and every inch. Curiously, you grip the appendage. It really does feel like a real tongue. You stroke it.
Sukuna grips the back of your neck. He glares down at you. âYou are trying to bring me to my knees, arenât you?â
You blink. âNo! Forgive me.â You try to pull your hand out on your own but his sudden grasp on your wrist stops you.Â
âI did not say I did not like it.â He steps closer, licking his lips.Â
âMy LordâŠâ Uraume grits out through the door.Â
Sukuna groans. âYes! Alright!â
The door opens with a wave of his hand.Â
âI should massacre the whole council, then I will have all the time in the world to bury my tongue inside your cunt. One dayâŠâ he mutters under his breath, seemingly actually considering the idea. You swat his back, cheeks flushed from embarrassment.Â
Your dress falls back into place just in time for you to shield yourself from anyone elseâs eyes but Sukunaâs. Not that itâs enough.Â
Uraumeâs chilling eyes see all â the sweat on your skin, the mess of your hair, the quivering of your legs, and the droplets of cum on the floor. They do not look disgusted by it. They look disgusted by you.Â
âBe good for me, little bride,â Sukuna says, already stomping away. âI will look for you as soon as I am done with these fools.â
You take a step forward to Uraume, an apology on your tongue.Â
They step back, straightening up. âThese meetings are important,â they begin. âThey ensure the other lords feel seen and heard. It maintains peace in our domain, and in yours. You mustnât keep him from doing his duties. Not only is it impolite, it is also dangerous.â
âIâm sorrââ
âDo not apologise to me. Apologise to the king for wounding him,â they snap. You frown, confused. âThe marks you left on his wrists that he refuses to heal himself? He leaves them open and bleeding. He openly plays with the cuts in front of the council, in front of his audience, smiling. Whispers are making echoes of a weakness in our king. If you do not care about your safety, then you must care about his.â
Thoroughly scolded, you stay rooted in place, watching Uraume follow after Sukuna.Â
.
.
.
You take a walk through the garden this evening to clear your head.Â
What Uraume said forced you to contemplate your relationship with the king. With Sukuna. They reminded you why you were spared in the first place â youâre a toy. A thing for entertainment.Â
He is entertained by you now, by the pleasures your body provides. That, however, is not something unique to you; any woman can spread their legs, which is a crass thing to say, you know. But itâs true. To save their village, their people, to earn another day of life, or to even have the honour of serving a king, many women would offer their body up.Â
And you are no special woman. You are quite average, all things considered. Never the most beautiful woman in the room, the most intelligent, or most pure of heart.Â
The fact of the matter is, Sukuna will soon grow bored of you.Â
What is left to be considered now is, will he spare you once he finds a new toy or will you be âgotten ridâ of by Uraume?
Will you be sad?Â
The pang in your chest at the thought seems to suggest so.
Without realising it, you end up back in the cherry blossom grove.Â
It looks different at night. Just as beautiful as during the day, of course, but different. Fireflies light up the air, mingling with the stars above you. If not for them, you wouldnât know where you are, wouldnât know that the tree whose bark youâre grazing with your fingertips now is the very same tree you sit under with Sukuna.
You were always under the impression that being a king meant you could do whatever you wanted. Uraumeâs warning proved otherwise â Sukuna had people to please. And youâre who pleases him.Â
For how long will you be enough?
With a sigh, you wonder if Sukuna really will come to find you after his meeting. Heâs always busy in the evenings, and though you spent the hours of the night sleeping anyway, itâd still be nice to talk to him. His thoughts on books youâve read are quite funny.Â
He hates silly heroines who make bad decisions and always fall for the gloomy, morally grey men, yet hates the morally grey men more for their cheesy lines. ââI control shadows and I have wings,ââ heâd mimic, lowering his voice to a deeper rumble than his own. Then heâd say in his own voice, âYes, so do about a thousand other fictional men. You are not special.â
Sukunaâs brows would furrow and heâd scoff whenever youâd get flustered by the erotic passages youâd be forced to read aloud to him as you sit in his lap, but he never suggests changing books. You theorise he really just likes complaining.Â
âPretty girl?â
You jolt.Â
That voiceâŠ
âSuguru?â
Behind a tree, a silhouette hobbles over to you. âYouâre alive! Oh, thank the heavens!â
The man falls into your arms. Heâs really here. Your bestest friend. But he isnât how you remember him â long raven hair have turned matted and dull, clothes torn and dirtied, and skin scratched up. You can hardly recognise him.
He grips your face, dirt rubbing into your skin. Scanning for any harm that might have befallen you, he smiles with relief upon seeing youâre perfectly well. âIâve spent so many weeks wondering what had happened to you. Iâm so sorry. God, Iâm so sorry.â
His words are going in one ear and out the other; you can only question, with terror and trepidation, why his hands tremble, why heâs jumping at every little sound, and pulling you away inch by inch.Â
âWhat happened?âÂ
Suguruâs eyes harden. His grip falls on your shoulder. Tight. Insistent. You wince. He says, âListen to me carefully. We need to leave. We need to leave now. Weâre too deep in the Curse Kingâs territory. There are beasts about. We must run now. Come!â
Bewildered, youâre yanked forward, stumbling over your feet.Â
âWait, no, I have to stay!âÂ
Heâs not listening.Â
Deeper into the forest, youâre pulled. The cherry blossoms morph into scraggly trees, leafless and with jagged branches like teeth reaching for you. The fireflies are gone now. You have to force your eyes to adjust as you trip over rocks and logs, and as your bare feet are caked in mud and moss.Â
Looking back towards the light, you start to heave. âSukunaâŠSukunaâll be mad. I have to go back.â You try to tear his hand off your wrist, digging your nails, but he can hardly feel it. âSuguru!â you yell, in near tears.
The man whirls on you, eyes wide and red. The bags under his eyes are darker than even the dark. They startle you. âWhatâre you doing? Whyâre you fighting me? Iâm trying to save you, like I should have done when your family decided to sacrifice you to the mountain.â
You shake your head. âItâs okay. Iâm okay. Iâm not mad at you, so if youâre doing this out of guilt, then you donât need to. Just go, alright? Go before someone notices youâre here. I donât know what the goblins, Uraume, o-or Sukuna will do if they find you here.â
Suguru recoils. âSukuna? You call the monster of the mountain by his first name?âÂ
He doesnât wait for you to answer. Something seems to dawn on him. His eyes properly take you in from head to toe â your clean skin, fresh hair, the plump in your cheeks, the expensive dress you wear, the lace, the silk, the jewels.Â
He releases you, like youâd burnt him.Â
âThe king spared youâŠâ he whispers in horror. âHe spared you. And youâve been living a life of luxury, as our village burned to the ground. You call him by his first name when his name was the last thing my family had screamed in their final moments. You wish to go back, to that thing, when Iâm here and Iâm taking you awayâŠâ
âWhat do you mean?â you ask, brows knitting together. âWhat happened to our village?â
Itâs an impossible thing to imagine. Yet it shouldnât have been. Many villages have suffered the same fate, or worse, over the many years since the rise of the curses. But your village was spared because of you, because of their offering, right?
A scathing laugh slaps you on the cheek. âYou donât know? Youâve been cozying up to that monster and you donât know he wiped our village out from the map? That he massacred our people in one night? Are you just stupid or did he poison your mind?â
You fall back, shaking your head. âNo, no, he wouldnât.â
âHeâs a killer!â Suguru roars. âHeâs killed so many. Every single night. The very few of us that had survived have fled from village to village, trying to fight against him and his army of curses, but they always win. Iâve watched my friends, my allies, fall again and again. And yet, I thought of you every day. I fought for you, so I can return and save you from his torture.â
He scoffs.Â
âBut he hasnât been torturing you, has he?â Suguru grips your face suddenly, bruising your cheeks as he spits out, âNo, he hasnât had to use force to get you to spread your legs!â
Tears stream down your face. âStop it,â you cry out. âStop it!â
Suguru presses his forehead to yours, lips trembling. âIâm sorry, Iâm sorry,â he repeats. âLetâs just go, alright? We need to go. Youâre not safe even if youâve earned his favour for now. Heâs proven he isnât a man of his word, and itâs only a matter of time before he tears you limb from limb like he had done to your mother and to your father, and to mine.â
Images of your home ablaze, of the night sky filling with the screams of the dying, of blood turning the ground crimson flash in your eyes.Â
Youâre a fool. Youâd actually convinced yourself that he isnât the King of Curses, that creatures from the Underworld donât bow to him, that he hasnât been keeping you to laugh behind your back.Â
Youâd allow yourself to believe youâre Sukunaâs bride.Â
That youâre something special to him, even momentarily, even just for now.Â
Heâs looking at you impatiently, bouncing on his feet and listening out for any signs of hostile life in the forest.Â
Taking a deep breath, you steel yourself. âYes, yes. Letâs go. Heâs in a meeting right now, heâll be busy.â
And off you two go, running in the dark, hand in hand.Â
Branches whip at your arms as you run.
The forest is different at night.
Where it had been soft, warm, almost dreamlike beneath drifting blossoms, itâs now a maze of shadows and silver light, the moon caught in the petals overhead. Your breath comes sharp and uneven, lungs burning, feet barely finding the ground as you stumble over roots and fallen bark.
Beside you, Suguruâs grip is firm. Unyielding.
âDonât stop,â he says, low, urgent, pulling you forward when your pace falters. âWeâre almost past the boundaryââ
A roar splits the night.
It shakes the air. Rips through the trees. Sends petals scattering like frightened birds. The ground trembles beneath your feet, a deep, violent pulse that travels straight up your spine. It rattles your bones, grips your very soul and squeezes. Itâs in equal parts wrathful and tortured.Â
You freeze.
Suguru doesnât.
âMove,â he snaps, tightening his hold on your hand, dragging you forward again. âHe knows.â
Of course he knows.
This is his domain.
Every inch of it.
You run faster.
Faster than you ever have before, lungs screaming, vision blurring, your hand clutched in Suguruâs like itâs the only thing anchoring you to reality. The trees thin for a moment, moonlight spilling across a clearingâ
THUD!
The earth cracks beneath the impact. You both skid to a halt.
He stands there, between you and whatever hope you thought you had.
Sukuna.
Tall. Unmoving. Waiting.
That deranged smile curls slowly across his lips, too wide, too pleased, too knowing. His eyes gleam in the dark, sharp and bright and utterly unhinged, drinking in the sight of you: your dishevelled state, your trembling form, your hand still clasped in anotherâs.
For a moment, he says nothing. Then, âYou are leaving me?â His voice is almost light. Almost amused. âFor some pathetic human?â
The words hit harder than the roar. Your chest tightens, a hot and jagged thing rising up your throat, drowning out the fear, the instinct to shrink, to hide, to obey. âNo,â you snap, breath shaking. âIâm leaving because you slaughtered my village. You killed my family. You lied to me.â
He laughs. Low. Disbelieving. Growing. Sukuna tilts his head, as though genuinely intrigued by your accusation, by the audacity of it. âYou mean the village,â he begins, voice slow, deliberate, âthat threw you, bound and gagged, at the foot of my domain to be sacrificed?â
Each word lands like a blade, cutting deeper and deeper, and twisting to remind you of your lowest moment, of the humiliation, of the powerlessness you felt.
âThe family that readily offered you up? That never looked back even once?â
Your grip on Suguru tightens.
Sukunaâs smile widens.Â
âYes,â he hums, almost fondly. Inspecting his hands, as though he can see the blood that still stains his unmarred skin. âYes, I did. And very gladly.â
Something in your chest cracks.
âBut I never lied to you,â he continues, eyes narrowing just slightly, the air around him growing heavier, sharper. âYou just assumed that I would negotiate with lesser creatures. A fault that I have overlooked.â
Suguru steps forward, just enough to place himself between you and him. âYouâre done,â he says, voice steady, though thereâs tension coiled tight beneath it. âWhatever hold you think you have over herââ
Sukunaâs gaze flicks to him.
The shift is instant.
The amusement drains, not completely, but enough to reveal something colder beneath. Something ancient. Something violent.
âCareful,â Sukuna murmurs. âI do not take kindly to interruptions in my conversations with my bride.â
The air distorts.
Pressure builds, thick and suffocating, pressing against your skin, your lungs, your bones. Suguru doesnât move, but you feel the way his hand tightens around yours, grounding you even as the world threatens to tilt.Â
Why hasnât Sukuna killed you both? Why hasnât he tore you two apart? Why is he standing under the moonlight, humoured and talking so leisurely?Â
Even till now, heâs not staring down at you with deadly intent. Heâs conversing with you as if heâs asking how your breakfast is or what book youâd picked up to read to him today. Itâs impossible to know what heâs thinking, and thatâs more dangerous than if you knew he was going to rip you into pieces.
âSheâs not your bride,â he spits, tugging you behind him.
Sukuna laughs again. Four eyes settle back on you. âNot mine?â he repeats, almost thoughtfully. âAfter everything I have given you?â
A step forward.
âAfter I took you in,â he continues, voice dropping, curling around the words, âfed you, dressed you, kept you alive when the rest of your kind would have happily watched you die?â
Another step.
Trying to steel your resolve, you retort, âYou must feel betrayed, right? Imagine how I feel, Sukuna!â
âYou think I feel betrayed?â he asks, head tilting again, that awful smile returning, sharper now. âNo, little bride.â His gaze flicks briefly to your joined hands. Then back to your face. âThis is not betrayal,â he says. âThis is ingratitude. It seems I have spoiled you. Given you too much, too fast. I did not train insolence out of you. You have insulted me. And you will be punished.â
Suguru pulls you back a fraction.
âRun,â Suguru whispers.
His last words, before Sukuna flicks his wrist and his body is cut into thin ribbons of flesh, blood, muscle and bone. They fall into a neat pile by your feet, soaking the ground you stand on until your soles are caked in the remains of your only friend.
It happens so quickly, so suddenly, you couldnât blink fast enough to protect your mind from the grotesque display. You saw it all. A man, a whole life, memories, a future, diminished to mush.Â
Sukuna smiles wider.
âYes,â he says, almost eagerly. âRun, little bride.â
You do.Â
Feet slam against the forest floor. Bare soles strike damp earth. Sharp pebbles and stray twigs that snap beneath your weight. It hurts.Â
God, it hurts.Â
But you donât stop. You canât. The pain barely registers past the ringing in your ears, past the image burned into your mind, replaying over and over again.Â
Suguruâs gone. Your village. Your family. Everything familiar.Â
Your stomach twists violently, bile clawing up your throat, but thereâs no time to be sick, no time to grieve, no time for anything except run.
Branches lash at you as you tear through the undergrowth, snagging against your dress, catching in the fabric and ripping it in jagged lines. The hem tears first, then higher, threads snapping with every desperate step until the once-soft material hangs in shredded strips around your legs. Chilling air kisses the exposed skin, quickly replaced by the sting of scratches, of thin lines of blood blooming where thorns and bark have caught you.
âSo panicked. So scared.â
His voice.
Right there.
Warm.Â
Amused.
Mocking.
You choke on a gasp, nearly tripping over your own feet as you lurch forward, heart slamming so hard it feels like it might crack your ribs open. Heâs not behind you, or in front of you, and yet it sounded as though he was.Â
âI have not even begun,â Sukuna murmurs somewhere, almost thoughtful. âAnd already you look like this. Adorable.â
The forest stretches endlessly before you, trees blurring together, shadows twisting into shapes that donât exist. The petals that once felt soft now cling to your damp skin, sticking to the sweat, to the blood, to the places where your dress has torn open. Your lungs burn, each inhale sharp and shallow, your chest tightening with every second that passes.Â
You trip.
A root catches your foot, sending you pitching forward. Your hands barely catch you before your face meets the ground, palms scraping harshly against rough earth. Dirt grinds into your skin, mixing with the blood already there.
âOh dear,â he muses. âSuch a clumsy thing, you are. Thatâs why I keep you locked up with all the pretty things in my domain. Do you see now, why you must stay with me?â
Getting back to your feet, you stumble forward. âIâm never going back with you!â
You ignore the way your hands tremble, the way your legs and your unused muscles scream in protest as you force them to move again.
Run.
Run.
Run.
âYou know,â Sukuna continues, his voice drifting lazily through the air, âI expected more from you.â
Thereâs a rustle above.
A shadow moving faster than you can track.
Where is he? Why isnât he snatching you up? Why is he drawing this out?Â
Heâs like a cat toying with a mouse, playing with his food, heightening your fear so youâll taste even better.Â
âI gave you everything,â he says, less conversational now, more accusing. âAnd this is how you repay me? Running off into the woods like a frightened little animal, with some other man, a man I should have slaughtered along with the other rats?â
Your breath hitches.
âHave I not been good to you? Have I not been enough? Enough to stay for. For even a goodbye.âÂ
A tear slips down your cheek, cutting through the grime. Devastatingly, a part of you notices the subtle crack of vulnerability. He masks it with amusement, with the undercurrent of anger, but you hear it all the same.
Still running, you yell, âYouâre going to kill me, like you killed everyone. Iâm just a toy to you!â
âAnd a very bad one at that,â he retorts without missing a beat. âFear not â I will fix you once I catch you.â
âYouâre not going to catch me,â you choke out, though it sounds weak, even to your own ears.Â
Sukuna tuts and it sounds like itâs right by your ear. âAh, but I already have.â
Wind flips your hair around, making it hard to see, so when you whip your head side to side, looking for hope, you donât see the barrier ahead until itâs too late.Â
Your body meets a hard wall. Two arms cage you in, unyielding.Â
A scream pierces through the forest. Itâs so far removed from you, you think for a second that someone else is facing the same fate you are, and your heart breaks for her. When reality sets in, you cease to stop feeling sorry at all. You just werenât fast enough. No one could be against the Curse King.Â
âGot you, little bride.â
In a blink of an eye, he has you carried up by your hips.Â
âMark my words,â he says, âyou will never leave me again.â
His lips slam onto yours.Â
Sukuna wastes no time shoving his tongue inside your mouth. A shocked moan escapes you. This is your first kiss, and with him. Itâs not romantic like the stories described kisses to be. Itâs not soft, tentative, gentle. Itâs a kiss full of anger, of a need for vengeance, to dominate.Â
Sukunaâs channeling every ounce of his feeling of betrayal, try as he might to deny it, down your throat. With the nipping of his teeth hard enough to draw blood, the suckling of his lips to taste the iron on his tongue, and said tongue exploring the crevices.Â
âJust as delicious as your cunt,â he snarls, pleased.
You should fight him off, you know. But you canât. Heâs too strong, too all-consuming, too engrained in your body. It recognises his heat, his scent, his voice, and it wants more. So you donât part from him; you clamp your teeth down on his bottom lip too, tasting his blood.Â
Itâs sweet.Â
Sickly sweet in a way that rushes straight to your head.
He barks a laugh, a hand yanking your head back by your hair. âA biterâŠadorable.â He runs his tongue up the length of your neck before biting the curve. You moan. It doesnât break skin, but the threat is there, and it has you clenching around nothing.
Sukuna takes a deep inhale of the air.Â
His eyes flash red.Â
âI killed your friend, decimated your village, and your cunt is still craving pleasure from me?â he asks, though it doesnât sound very much like a question at all. âYour soul calls for me, do you realise it, little wife?â
âIâm not your wife,â you spit out.Â
âNot yet, but in just a moment, you will be,â he promises. At whatever expression you wear on your face, another laugh cuts through you. âYou do not realise the trap you have run into, do you?â
Blinking, you finally look around, processing your surroundings.Â
They glisten with something under the moonlight â too thick, too dark to be dew.Â
Blood?
Behind you, a litter of scarlet petals trails right up to where you stand, as though marking every step that led you here, every foolish attempt at escape laid out like a procession. Rows of benches stretch out on either side, carved from twisted wood and bone, thorns curling along their edges, skulls embedded into the structure.
The forest has gone still.
No insects. No birds. No wind.
Only him.
Only you.
And thisâŠ
This altar.
âA fitting setting, no?â Sukuna murmurs against your skin, his voice lower now, richer, laced with something disturbingly joyful. His grip on your hips tightens, grounding you in place even as your mind threatens to spiral. âFor a union long overdue.â
Dress hiked up around your waist, a long, slithering thing worms up your thighs. You writhe, trying to run away from it, but he wonât let you. Teeth hook into your underwear. It riiiiiiiiiips it off.
His curse tongue licks your cunt with a vengeance, as though punishing you for withholding your pussy and its juices from it. Shlick! Shlick! So vulgar. So indecent. So unrestrained.Â
Your pulse spikes. âThis isnâtââ
âIt is,â he cuts in smoothly.
The word lands like a final verdict.
Back arching, youâre powerless against the tongue prodding your entrance. He doesnât mention it. Neither do you. You donât mention how itâs far too big to enter you and yet it does, stretching your walls out with ancient powers you will never understand.Â
Inside, it licks every inch, every pleat. Maybe your hips work down, trying to suck it deeper inside. Maybe it doesnât.Â
Youâre far too focused on the fact that youâre finally at your wedding. A wedding you never wanted in the first place. A wedding he didnât want either. He was just amused by the gall of the humans.
The domain itself is bearing witness.
Thereâs no need for friends, for family, for a priest.Â
He only needs himself and you.
Sukuna turns you with absolute certainty, positioning you to face the altar. Itâs carved from dark marble, veined with something that glows faintly beneath the surface, like embers trapped beneath ash. Symbols you donât understand are etched into it, curling and jagged.Â
âI chased you,â he muses, almost idly, though his hands never leave you, never loosen. They feel your body. Squeezing. Groping. Grip pulsing. Drawing out gasps and moans. âI let you run. Let you tear yourself apart on branches and roots like a frightened little thing.â
His fingers drag over one of the scratches on your arm, smearing the thin line of blood.
âAnd still,â he continues, voice dropping, âyou came exactly where I wanted you.â
Your throat tightens.
âI didnâtââ
âYou did,â he says, almost gently now, and that softness is far more terrifying than anything else. âEvery path you chose. Every step you took. It all led here.â
The petals shift under your feet as he guides you forward.
One step.
And another.
âTo me.â
Your thighs are soaked with his saliva. The entrance to your womb is being tickled. Clit rubbed by a wide, flat tongue. Youâre face to face with him, panting, eyes unable to tear away with the undeniable allure of his. Heâs tasting you, consuming you, devouring. He just canât help himself. Even when he should be rough, when he should punish you, should teach you a lesson youâll never forget, he cannot.Â
âNgh! S-Sukuna,â you cry out as an orgasm tears through you. âToo much!â
For a moment, his gaze softens. âI know, I know. But you need to be stretched to take both of my cocks. Be patient.â
Blood drains from your face.Â
Thatâs when you start thrashing in his hold, fear taking over you. âNo, no! I canât take both of them.â Theyâre too big. Youâve seen them up close; no one could take them. No human. One would already be asking too much.Â
Both?Â
Itâd be a death sentence.
Sukuna slowly lays you down on top of the altar.Â
Immediately, dark powers curl around your body. Wisps of shadow and smoke threading around your limbs, twirling your hair, brushing your cheek, unravelling your dress and slipping it off your body. They keep you in place.
You feel his energy touching you everywhere â stroking your lips, entering through your nose, sliding down your throat and filling your belly, flicking your nipples before wrapping around the hard bud and tugging, creeping down your stomach to stroke your throbbing clit.Â
They distract you, shushing the cries of protest.Â
âBeautiful,â he whispers as his eyes consume you whole. âSo beautiful. And all mine.â
He touches your cunt, coating his fingers with your essence. Sukuna brings it up in the light between you. Itâs red.Â
Automatically, your legs move to close. The shadows stop you. They yank your legs further apart so he can slot himself between them. His robes have fallen off. A cockhead pokes your clit, smearing its pre-cum onto the pulsing thing. You gasp.Â
When he licks your monthly blood off his fingers, you groan. âStop! Itâs filthy.â
âNo, little bride. Nothing about you is filthy. Not in a way I donât cherish, at least.â
Sukuna brings his wrist up to your lips.Â
âBite me. Hard. Hard enough to bleed. Take your anger out on me. All your hate. Your melancholy. Your grief. Let it all out,â he demands, growling. âI want it. All of it. Every part of you. Give it to me!â
The shadows pry your jaw open. Thatâs it. Itâs them that makes your teeth take hold of his thick wrist and bite down with every force you have in you. Itâs them that make your teeth sink in through all layers.Â
Iron soaks into your tongue, trickling down your throat and warming your chest, like alcohol.Â
He throws his head back, chest heaving.Â
The forest rustles, cheering, trembling with pleasure. Meanwhile, the shadows are vibrating. Thrumming as it plays with your clit incessantly. As it pushes in the little holes of your nipples, pleasuring the fats from inside. You whine.Â
âFuck!â he bellows
Sukuna snatches his wrist from you. His hands grip the marble, veins popping and threatening to burst. Heâs gulping down air and rolling tension off his shoulders.Â
âYou almost came, didnât you?â you ask, smiling in victory.Â
Those red eyes dart up to you. He licks his lips. âYes. Yes, I did.â Sukuna tilts his head, hand wandering up your torso before groping your breast. Like you already know to expect, his curse mouth disappears from his stomach and appears on his palm. It suckles on your nipple, obsessed with trying to find milk where there is none.Â
You moan, back arching.Â
Two hands hold your hips. They tug you down, closer to his hips.Â
âYou expected me to be ashamed of your effect on me?â he wonders aloud, huffing in amusement. âI want you. I crave you. I own you. In the same way you want me, crave me, own me. The only difference is, I embrace it.â
Heâs stroking his top cock leisurely, wringing out droplets you canât tear your eyes from. Lips parting, your mouth begins to long to be filled. Your hips chase after the fat thing. His shadows keep you still.Â
Sukuna continues, rubbing the wrist youâd bitten on your stomach, âI am offering everything I have, everything I am, was and will be. You need only take it. Take me. Use me.â He draws a symbol, a sigil, you donât recognise. With his other hand, he collects the blood between your legs. The bloodied fingers hovers above the mark. âClaim me.â
Thereâs sincerity in his eyes, which seem to plead with you.Â
Inside, a pull reaches for him. Desperate. Intent. Hysterical. It calls for him, pained. He calls back, even more so.Â
You can tell, whatever you feel for him, he feels it tenfold. No, infinitely more intense. It must drive him mad. The fraction of what you feel has you wanting to keel over, to rip your skin off and wear his. How he can function, can keep his head on straight, baffles you.
Heâs commendable. A true leader. An unholy king.
Thatâs why, when he utters a final syllable, you cannot resist the pull any longer:
âPlease.â
âYes!â you wail. âI do! I do! I claim you. All of you.â
Arms flailing, you scramble towards him. Like a leech, you attach yourself to him, to his lips. You sloppily kiss him, smearing the blood and dirt on your body all over his. Fire burns beneath your skin. Youâre set ablaze. Your soul. Your heart. Your skin. Every part is touched by him. Caressed. Treasured.
Sukuna releases a relieved breath, as though heâd been put out of his misery.Â
He holds you to him. He wonât drop you. You know it. You know it so deeply, it is like knowing your name.Â
The forest roars. Branches thrash. Leaves fall in spirals around you, a wall shielding you from the rest of the world. Thereâs no going back anymore. Youâve given in. Youâve surrendered.Â
Two hot things begin pushing inside.Â
For a moment, you tense, anticipating pain. None come. Only delirious bliss. Drool drips down your chin. Your eyes roll back.Â
The shadows havenât stopped stimulating you outside and inside. Youâve been cumming over and over again. Little orgasms that make your limbs shaky. But the orgasm that hits you the moment both of his cock stretch your gummy walls?
World ending.Â
Tantalizing.
Immense.Â
Boundless.
The most glorious gift.
You scream.Â
âYes, thatâs it,â he coaxes. âPerfect. So perfect. My wife. Mine now and forevermore.â
Soon, he bottoms out. Hips flushed. Torsos pressed together tightly. Not a single thing could get in between you. You feel every inch of him. Every ridge. Every vein. Every nudge of his fat cockheads competing to draw out your pleasure most.Â
You thought itâd feel overwhelming. Too much too soon. Now, you canât get enough. You think, if only one cock had entered you, you would have mewled and whined for the other to join. Â
âSee?â Sukuna whispers into your ear, teeth scraping the shell. âYou took me so well. Such a well-behaved girl. You were -hah- made for me.â
In spite of his teasing words, his whole body is trembling with the fight not to cum too soon. Your constant clenching, fluttering around both of his cocks, the way you choke him right to the base, has him at the very edge of sanity, which you doubt he had to begin with.Â
Heâs ploughing his cocks inside you.Â
Thrusting with vigour that you feel at your fingertips. Your toes curl, back arching and head thrown back. Sukuna sucks at your neck, obsessed with the intensity of your scent there.Â
Heâs like an animal let loose. Heâs rutting into you so fiercely you fear heâd break your bones. But your king would never hurt you. Not in a way you wouldnât like.
A crazed laugh echoes in the night.Â
You rake your fingers through his hair. Then you yank his head back, as he had done to you. âMore, Sukuna. Fuck me more. I want to cum on your cocks over and over again. I command it, husband.â
Both lengths throb inside you.Â
Sukunaâs eyes cross. Theyâre glazed over. âYes,â he mumbles without even realising it, thoroughly enthralled in your very being, âwhatever you want, my beautiful, precious wife.â
Hours must pass.Â
Hours of fucking you in the air, on the altar, on the ground, against a tree.Â
His hands explore your body till heâs memorised the curves and the planes. You do the same.Â
The squelching of your cunt, the slapping of skin, the mingling of blood with cum, the reverberating of groans and moans envelopes you in a hellish cocoon. The bullying of his cocks through your sore, sensitive walls, the sucking of his curse mouth on your tits, the devouring of his mouth to yours, the fwop fwop fwop! of his balls on your poor clit â all of it sends you over the edge again and again and again and again, even once you think you will never feel better than the last.
You cannot get enough of him.
And he cannot get enough of you.Â
Sukuna whimpers your name out before and after every peak he reaches. He fills your belly up with his cum. It perpetually drips out of you. You can taste the salt on your tongue. It coats you from head to toe.Â
âMy wife,â he exhales, like announcing to the world. âMy lifeâŠmy love.â
Where he ends and you begin blur.
Time ceases to exist. The rest of the world vanishes.Â
In this moment, in his arms, bouncing on his cock as he gazes upon every flicker of pain and pleasure on your face, only you two matter.Â
.
.
.
The sun has started to rise.Â
You watch it climbing over the hill, head laid out on Sukunaâs chest. He plays with your hair, twirling it absentmindedly. Youâre both naked. Limbs thrown over each other. Tangled.
Juices and blood have dried over your skin. Some of it your own. Some of it his.Â
A deep satisfaction courses through your veins.Â
Sukunaâs chest rises and falls beneath your cheek.
There is something almost surreal about it â this stillness, this calm. The same body that had hunted you through the dark now lies beneath you like an anchor, solid and unyielding in a different way. The heat of him seeps into your skin, bleeding into your bones.
His fingers continue their idle path through your hair.
A strand slips loose, caught and wound around his clawed fingertips before being released again.Â
Your body bears the marks of the night: faint bruises bloom beneath your skin, teeth marks darkening where they had once stung, thin scratches tracing your limbs from your flight through the forest. Sukunaâs hands soothe any marks he left on you, not regretful at all. His actions can be likened to basking proudly in the art he made.Â
All the while, youâre tracing the marks you left on him too â the scratches, the bite marks, the bruises he allowed you to give him. You run your fingers down his tattoos, avoiding the mouth on his tongue, which keeps licking you or trying to capture your hand. A very naughty thing indeed.
âSukuna,â you murmur. He grunts. âIâm hungry. Letâs go back home.â
âHow you have any room left in your small belly after drinking so much of my cum, I cannot fathom,â he voices out, curious and concerned. You smack his chest. âYes, dear. I hear you. Let us take a bath in the pool and I will have a servant bring us food. Perhaps a goblin.â
As he stands up, you frown. âA goblin? Why not Uraume?â
Uraumeâs his favourite. His right hand. His shadow. The goblins, on the other hand, he barely tolerates. Youâve seen him kick the poor things out of the way too often. Once or twice, youâve reflexively tried to help them up, but they growl at you. You think they quite like being kicked about. It seems to be an honour to them. Â
Under his breath, as Sukuna stretches his body with a lazy yawn, he says, âUraume is on time out.â
Using his outstretched hand to bring you to your feet, you ask, âWhy? What happened?â
Petulantly, he grumbles, âThe insolent brat took it upon themself to lead that waste of space human I tore to shreds to you. It seems they thought you were a bad influence on me.â
To punctuate his last sentence and emphasise the absurdity of the idea, he grins wolfishly down at you, more specifically at his cum dripping down your thighs. Cheeks heated, you press them together.Â
Itâs hard to believe this evening had been orchestrated by Uraume, but also itâs not a huge leap in logic. Theyâve made their point of view abundantly clear â you just didnât think they would have tried to have you face imminent death crossing through the forest where creatures of the Underworld lurked.Â
âAre youâŠare you going to hurt them?â
Sukuna cocks a brow. âWould you like me too?â
âNo,â you say immediately and sincerely. âBloodâs already been spilled tonight. I donât want to be the reason someone gets hurt again.â
âVery well. Let me know if you change your mind. They sure do get upset if I let someone else cook my meals.â
You giggle.
Then, all the humour dies out of you.Â
Exhaustion has set in your limbs.Â
Whatever energy had overtaken you earlier is gone now.Â
His breath grazes your cheeks, warm against the cold air. One of his thumbs collects a tear right from your lashes. You didnât even know youâre tearing up. He brings the droplet to his lips and licks it away. You hold your breath as he mutters, âWatching you run from me, hand in hand with some other man, hurts less than seeing you cry for him. It makes me wish I had made him suffer more before his end.â
âIâm not crying for him.â
Sukunaâs crimson eyes flit to you.Â
âOh?â
Sudden sobs escape your lips. Your knees give out beneath you. He catches you, lifting you up in his arms. He always does. You bury your face in his neck. Sukuna rubs soothing circles on your back, cooing. âMy ferocious, little wifeâŠwhat is wrong? Did I hurt you too much? Do youâŠdo you regret marrying me?â
The insecurity in his voice, the hesitation to ask, to hear a truth he would be distraught to hear, make you cry harder.Â
âPlease donât ever throw me away. I know I shouldnât have left last night, but I really thought you were going to kill me. And maybe you will later. But please donât,â you plead through your tears. âI want to be with you forever and ever.â
Silence passes.Â
A pregnant pause.
He laughs.Â
He actually laughs.Â
Itâs full bodied. His stomach mouth joins in. âHilarious! You never fail to entertain me with your constant overthinking. Always so afraid. So on guard. Too precious! You are just too adorable. You will rot my teeth.â
Weakly, you lay a barrage of punches on his chest. âDonât laugh at me, you brute. Iâm your wife. Respect me.â
Sukuna nods patronisingly, but he does shift his laughter into light chuckles, âAlright, alright. Forgive me, little wife. You are simply so delightful, so naive, and pitiful, I cannot help myself.âÂ
âPut me down.â
âNever.â Sukuna presses a kiss to your cheek. He nudges your face away from his neck so you will meet his gaze. Seriously now, voice with his sacred vow, âI have no intention of throwing you away. Not since I laid eyes on you and felt a thing I did not know existed beat in my chest.â
Holding your breath, you listen to his confession.Â
âThere is no world,â he continues, quieter now, though the weight of it presses heavier, âin which I allow you to slip from my grasp. Not heaven, not earth, not whatever fragile afterlife your kind clings to. If you are taken from me, I will unmake it. If you are hidden, I will find you. If you are reborn, I will recognise you.â
Shyly, you ask, âEven if I have a different face?â
Sukuna nods. âIn whatever form, whatever shape, whatever state, you are. Wherever, whenever, you find yourself in. I will recognise you by your soul. For yours make up my own.â
He leaves a kiss to your forehead, to each of your eyes, to the tip of your nose. You giggle.
Then, huffing in amusement, he adds, âIt certainly helps that we are bound by curse marriage. Not by your flimsy, human paper. But by blood. We curses take blood bonds very seriously. If we are to part, for whatever reason, we would both die, so it is in your best interest not to throw me away.â
That should startle you. Should scare you beyond belief. Instead, you think itâs the most romantic thing youâve ever heard.Â
âIâm holding you to that,â you mutter against his lips.
Sukuna nuzzles your nose with his, a smile mirroring yours.Â
Synopsis. Five times Fushiguro Megumi and his particularly determined elementary class attempt to matchmake the strong, surly divorced Fushiuro Toji with youâtheir pretty elementary school teacher. And the one time it doesnât end in disaster.Â
(Or in other words; the one time Fushiguro Megumi might just become a big brother?!)
A/N. And shoutout to Megan THEEEEEE StaIIion for teaching me what rizz was mhm- aIso slightly inspired by my Unckuna fic here <3
FUSHIGURO MEGUMIâS (and co.) FIVE-STEP PLAN TO MATCHMAKE HIS FATHER AND HIS TEACHERâPHASE ONE: RIZZ.
ââŠand thatâs the problem.â
Fushiguro Toji canât believe this.
No matter how he looks at itâthis is weird, right?Â
After all, no respectable single father would be hesitant to drop his son off at his elementary classroom- instead lingering by the wide, multi-colored building steps for a few seconds before finally entering like a lamb to the butcherâs. And even worse- no respectable single father would let himself be ruthlessly interrogated by his son over this fact.
And worst of all, reveal - after much intense probing by a nine-year-old - that this was all becauseâŠhe happened to haveâŠa stupid crush on one of the teachers.
âWhich one?â Megumi looks up through jet-black bangs much like his, nose crinkling at the thought of his father having- eugh, feelings.Â
Toji sighs. âDonât mean to push you into your emo phase early, kid, butâŠâ
And then he glances beyond the little oneâs frame.
Right. At. You.
The entrance to Tokyo Jujutsu Elementary opened up to the main hallway; with classrooms upon either side, and doorways spaced between walls that were kaleidoscopes of crafts and schoolbag hooks and polaroids of students over the years. If Toji looked hard enough then heâd even be able to find the polaroid where Megumi was flipping the camera offâheâd learned that one from him, see.
That was an awkward parent-teacher meeting.
But that was also the day he properly met you - beyond just the polite nod and hasty small talk at drop-off and pick-up.Â
With your adorable flowery apron on - courtesy of elementary school policy - and your lips trying very hard not to twitch up into a smileâvery nicely telling Megumi that that wasnât something good kids do.
Toji agreed then. Heâd have agreed with anything you said.
âBut you were the one that taughtââ
Heâd slapped his hand over Megumiâs mouth then.
Youâd let a small laugh slip- and he was a goner.Â
After that meeting, Megumi may have lost something (iPad privileges for a whole month), but Toji gained something: this little ember of attraction that he couldnât shake off no matter how much he tried. Every routine pick-up and drop-off, every bake sale, every little notification that lit up his phoneâyou typing into the parentsâ groupchat about some announcement or the other. And though itâd never be anything too personal, his heart always thundered in his chest as he clicked those notifications open. Is it weird that he set a different tone for your notifications?
The harder he tried to ignore it, the further it kindled.
Until he evidently couldnât even walk inside that damn building without feeling some part of him melt just a littleâŠ
Even now, his skin burns as he watches you.Â
Biting back a laugh as one of your students hugged their guardian goodbye- so hard that both adult and child topple over. And then youâre being grappled into the same embrace, which youâre letting yourself be tugged intoâsoon enough, three more of your students join in. One tucks a wildflower from the garden behind your ear.
Sunlight falls across your face as your head falls back in a laugh - and then youâre leaning forwards and grabbing all of those tiny bodies in a hug.Â
Toji canât help but wonder whether youâd like to be embraced just the same. Toji canât help but wonder whether youâd laugh just like that when youâre picked up and spun around, feet never touching the ground. Toji canât help but wonder why the hell Itadori Yuji was pointing and laughing at him.
âMr. Fushiguroâs dad, your face looks funnyâ!â He squeals. Loud enough for multiple parents to turn and look.
Toji grumbles something underneath his breath and straightens, like the respectable adult - the respectable adult - he is. Cool. Calm. Collected. Mature. âOh yeah? And your hair looks funny, kid.â
Now those same parents were turning to him and glaring.Â
âWhatâ?!â He gruffs out at them, hands raising in surrender. âHe started it.â
Itadori turns to them and smiles an utterly precious, gap-toothed smile.Â
He tells himself that heâs imagining the way they seem to be pulling their kids away from him.
Itadori stops laughing and ruffles his own coral-pink locks. The boy had strong-armed himself to become one of Megumiâs best friends since their first day; and he always has made himself known as the chatterbox of the group. The sweetheart. The trouble-stirrer (one of them, at least). âMy grandpa says itâs um- jeanetic. My father had pink hair, too.â
Toji raises a brow, âOh?â
âYeah! Did you know my uncleâs in prison?â The boy looks squarely up at him and beams. âHe sets things on fire.â
âSame, bud.â
âI eat dirt.â
ââŠwhat the fuck.â Toji whispers underneath his breath- though it mustâve been loud enough for the keenest of eavesdroppers to listen, because before he knows it, a little boy with a face mask and the most atrocious bowl cut Tojiâs seen in his lifeâpulls out a notebook from his backpack and starts furiously scribbling something down.
Assumably the profanity heâd just spoken.
Inumaki Toge, was it?
Now heâs the one stepping away from these damn kids.Â
But before he can get too far, Toji feels a tug on either armâhe looks to his right: Itadori.Â
Attempting to climb up his forearms and biceps like monkey bars.
He looks to his left: Kugisaki.
Looking knowingly between you and him.
âThese partners stink of-â
âWhat was that?â Kugisaki asks.Â
âNothing.â Toji quickly replies. And then there was the other one: Kugisaki Nobara was impossible to miss in a classroom. If not by her chattering that was just as loud as pink-haired Itadoriâs, then by the red, rubber hammer that she seemed to be fond of, smashing it on top of peopleâs heads if they displeased her. He was just in the middle of wondering whether he could be successfully knocked out if she hit him hard enough when-
âWhereâŠare you taking me?â He quickly narrows his eyes- just as soon as the little girl started pulling him by the hand. Towards your classroom. âHeyââ
âOh, câmoooon.â She rolls her eyes in a manner that was far too expert for her age. âHow is the male lead going to get the heroine if they donât even talk?â
âIâm not the main character?â
Itadori - who had by now managed to perch atop his right shoulder like some parrot - whispers uncomfortably in his ear. âHowâs the rizzler going to get the skibidi?â
Toji whirls to him- âBless you?â The fuckâŠ
Megumi follows and nods sagely. Deadpanning. âDadâs not sigma enough for that.â
âNot you, too?!â
âHi?â
The Earth had given way from underneath him. But in reality, it was just your voice breaking through the chaos of the elementary lobbyâItadori had begun gripping onto his shaggy, black bangs for balance now- and Toji was doing all he could to peak through the boyâs cutely chubby fingers.
A breath catching in his chest once he realizes that theyâd walked him all the way over to you.
Apron on. Brows raised. A flower tucked prettily behind your ear. Standing right at the door to your vibrant classroom; you kept a hand on your mouth to stifle your obvious smile. Though nothing could hide the light in your eyes.
And before Tojiâs given the opportunity to wax shitty poetics about it in his mind, youâre nodding at the boy latched onto Tojiâs head. With a smile- âDown now, Yuji. What have I said about climbing people like monkey bars?â
He sighs and removes his hands covering Tojiâs eyes, âTo not climb people like monkey bars.â
âAnd what are you doing right now?â
âClimbing people like monkey bars.âÂ
âDown, please.â
Yes, maâamâŠTojiâs thinking to himself. Snap out of it, man.
It was like a miracle. Itadori Yuji - for however much of a sweetheart he was - was never the type to listen to authority so directlyâyou could tell the kid to not eat glue and heâd chug down the whole bottle. Toji knows. From experience.
But itâs as easy as butter that heâs sliding off the older man now- and soon enough, his small red shoes are hitting the floor. And heâs staring up at Toji with his scarred mouth gaped open.
In fact, everyone was.
âUm, Fushiguro-san? Is everything okay?â Your brows then pinch in concern.
Kugisaki slaps her forehead, and Megumi seems to sink deeper into his bangs. As quickly as the words are registering in his headâheâs shutting his mouth and faintly puffing his broad chest out. Making sure that you see the way his beefy biceps flex as he scratches behind his neck. âYeah- yeah, everythingâs alright. How about you?â
âCanât complain.â You giggle. And when there doesnât seem to be a follow-up question, he flexes even harder. âI see uhâŠyouâve been hitting the gym lately, Fushiguro-san.â
âOh, me?â He has the audacity to look a little shocked. âThatâs cute, doll. But I donât hit the gym.â
âYou must take steroids then.â Itadori pipes up gleefully. âMy uncle takes them, too-â
âIâm all naturalââ
As this subsides, youâre taking control of the chaos like the professional you are. âAlright, oh- look at the time!â Sweeping a glance behind you at the classroom clock, âWeâre almost late for attendance and rehearsal time. Letâs get inside, kids.âÂ
You start ushering some of them inside- and Toji squirms as those balls of energy rush past him. Evidently you were preoccupied with them, but you have enough time to look up at the older man and flash him a smile-
âAnd Iâll see you at pick-up then?â
Faintly, he nods. âUh-huh.â
âGood.â You cock your head up at him, âHope you have fun with the gym then~â
âU-uh-huh.â
He can only watch mutely as you whisk a few students inside and clap your hands to get their attentionâsome of the parents were filtering out and he knows he must look like such a creepâŠbut you were just so astounding. And at least he hadnât completely fucked up that interaction-
âMr. Fushiguroâs dad, sorry for your aura loss.â Itadori pats him comfortingly on his side. There were still some students milling about with their goodbyes.Â
He whirls, âFushiguro Toji doesnât lose aura-â
âBut you did.â Kugisaki nods with her arms crossed. âYou fumbled, Fushiguro-san.â
He turns to his beloved son for reassurance.Â
Megumi looks at Toji blankly. âYou never had aura to me, dad.â
âThatâs it-â
âBut itâs okay.â Kugisaki says, âThe male lead never gets the heroine in the first five minutes. They have to suffer first. You just messed up Phase One.â
He almost feels sorry asking. âAndâŠwhat is Phase One?â
âThe rizz phase.â This time, itâs Itadori that answers. âYou have zero rizz, Mr. Fushiguroâs dad. Butâwe have a plan.â
âA plan?â
Itadori holds up three fingers. âFour more phases before you win Ms. Teacherâs heart!â Not so loudâŠheâs grateful you havenât noticed them yet.Â
Megumi holds up the correct number of fingers. âFour more phases to embarrass yourself, dad.â
What moral support, son.
âI donât knowâŠâÂ
Itadori nods seriously, âTake it this way, Mr. Fushiguroâs dad- thereâs a red button and a blue button in front of you. If you press the red button you die alone like my uncle probably will. If you press the blue button you totally rizz Ms. Teacher up and live happily-ever-after before she divorces you. Which button would you press?â
Neither?! His jaw drops. âWhat the fu-â
âWe just want to matchmake you!â Kugisaki shoves Itadori aside.Â
He eyes the kids warily. Leaving his love life to three elementary schoolers? Has Fushiguro Toji really fallen this far? OhâŠhe really is getting old. âWhatever. I donât a shi- damn.â
And the answer is yes, yes he has.
But then Kugisaki clasps her hands together and beams, âThen in the end youâll be just like Jinu and Rumi from K-pop Demon Hunters!â
And beside himself, Toji cracks a little smile. âYeahâŠyeah, maybe we will.â
âYouâll die in the end and sheâll become a demon!â
ââŠletâs just stick to Phase Two.â
.
.
.
FUSHIGURO MEGUMIâS (and co.) FIVE-STEP PLAN TO MATCHMAKE HIS FATHER AND HIS TEACHERâPHASE TWO: SWEET TREATS!
Status: PendingâŠ
Why did he agree to this shit again?
Though it wasnât exactly Valentineâs Day; Fushiguro Toji was lugging a cart âround the candy aisles of Maruetsu supermarket, followed by three children with sticky fingers that just kept on piling even more sweets into the hefty chocolate-filled cart. And more. And more. And more-
And though Toji agrees that there was never a wrong day for chocolate - he was just damn relieved that yesterday had been pay day. These brats didnât even glance at the price before throwing chocolate bars and heart-shaped candies over the cart rim.
Right alongside a bunch of flour, butter, and whatever shit one needed to make cookies.Â
Because yesâFushiguro Toji was apparently the type to make cookies now.Â
Itadori tosses a bunch of Daddy Tonyâs Chocolonely into the cart. âWeâre totally chocolate-mogging everyone in the store right now.â
Why did he agree to this shit again?
Itâd been their idea.
Tokyo Jujutsu Elementaryâs annual talent show was nearing. The decorations were being made. The kids were rehearsing after-school. And Toji didnât care too much about such thingsâthe only reason this had stuck in his mind was because youâd sent a message about it in the group chat. And heâd read that little sentence over and over again until he memorized it.Â
To raise funds for such an endeavour, the elementary was hosting a bake sale; where parents - should they choose to do so - could contribute their own baked goods and little treats and candies that could be sold. The year before, Toji had honestly just sent Megumi off with a bag of chips that Itadori had scoffed down in all of three seconds.Â
Though, in his defense, it wasnât mandatory and he didnât know what the fuck a bake sale was supposed to be.Â
Phase Two of the plan seemingly consisted of emptying out Tojiâs pockets- the three of them had insisted that this bake sale was the perfect opportunity for Toji to make his move on you.
It was simple, reallyâbake cookies for the sale, sell them there, and when it came to you- woo you with a special heart-shaped cookie and ask you out. Simple!Â
Was it obvious that this plan had been concocted by a bunch of nine-year-olds?
Toji sighs.
He glimpses Megumi wandering into the meat section and reaching for „50,000 Wagyu-
The next day, after burning the first few batches of cookies and setting fire to his kitchen only twice, Toji found himself crammed into a pretty pink-frilled booth at the official annual bake sale. Equally as pink apron cinched around his waistâand his t-shirt so tight that he catches a few single parents giving him appreciative looks.
Though he wasnât paying attention to that.Â
He was keeping his eyes on you- making your way from booth-to-booth, laughing along with parents and trying out everything your students had to offer.Â
Toji lets out a long, lingering sigh.
He was never going to get over this damn crushâ
Next to him, Megumi and his two best friends were the ones manning the counter and giving out cookies to paying customers. He hates to admit it, but business was booming.Â
âHeyâŠhey, if I pay you in chocolates would you sell this shit again for me?â
Megumi looks up at him blankly. âI want 60% equity and „5 for every unit sold.â
Toji drops a cookie he was holding over the counterââM-maybe notâŠâ
And thenâŠand then the most sweet, seraphic sound echoes in his ears- too close for it to be something heâd imagined, too removed from him to be anyone but you. Youâre making the tall man freeze where he was leaned over the counter - and the hairs on the back of his neck riseâŠheâs pausing to listen for you before he knows it.
âOh, let me get that for you.â
Toji hadnât noticed you walk over. Toji hadnât noticed you bending down to pick up the cookie heâd dropped. âO-oh, no you donât need toââ Not before youâre straightening up and holding it out to him with a beautiful smile.Â
âItâs no problem.â You chirp.Â
Mutely, he takes the crumbling cookie from you.
He wanted that cookie badly.
âSoâŠI see business is booming.â You nod down at the three little ones manning the counter, âGood job, sweethearts. How are you today?â
âGood.â Both Megumi and Kugisaki echo.
âMy grandma got hit by a bazooka!â Itadori beams.
Your smile falters, though Tojiâs impressed at how quickly you recover. âWellâŠthatâs certainly a time, isnât it, Yuji? And how are you, Fushiguro-san?â
âO-oh, meâ?â His faze sizzles at being called out so suddenly. And the older man hurries to scratch behind his neckâdid his biceps look good in this apron? âAhâŠchill.â
âChill, hm?â You smirk. Eyeing him, âI dunno- Iâd say itâs a rather hot day today.â
Features scrunching up, Toji leans his head out and looks at the sky. âIs it? Those damn weathermen always lie.â
Megumi smacks his forehead.Â
âNo, I just meantâŠâ Youâre flitting your gaze at the paper-thin fabric of his t-shirt, wrapped around his chiselled limbs so perfectly. Gift-wrapped. And then youâre shaking your head, instead turning to the rows of cookies put on display. âAnyways- any recommendations you guys have for me?â
Toji furrows his brows at the abrupt change in conversation. Beside him, reaching just past his knee, Kugisaki kicks him in the shin and hisses- âThe cookie! The cooooookie! Make a move, male lead!â
âOh. Oh.â Toji startles. Bending down and whispering back, âNow?â
âYes, now!â
âBut-â
âGo.â
âWaitââ
âGo!â
Finally, he holds one calloused palm out at you. Bandaged and slightly aching from baking all day yesterday. âStay here, we made something special for you.â
âOh?â
Toji shuffles around in the box of cookies that theyâd brought with them; packaged away and separated from the rest was one particular cookieâyour favorite flavor, which heâd probed out of the kids. Specifically made in the shape of a heart.
His hands shake a little bit as he turns to you with it.
Scarred lips parting, âThis isâŠâ
âFor me?â You cock your head with a sweet smile.
He nods. âFree of charge.â
âThatâs too sweet, I couldnât possibly-â
âPleaseââ Toji interrupts, fingers weak - barely holding onto the crinkled package - as he holds it out to you. âI insist. For taking care of my son.â
Something changes in your expression, and your fingers twitch closer to his.
The trio watches open-mouthed as your hands close the gap in mid-air beforeâ
âOooooooo, cookie! Fanum tax!âÂ
Before one Todo Aoi leans over the counter and snatches the cookie fast- before everyone could even blink, all of Tojiâs emotions, hopes, pursuits, and dreams find themselves stuffed down the crumb-coated maw of the little boy. Chomped to bits.
Everyone looks at him in stunned silence.
He polishes off the cookie in three bites.
âWhat?â Todo asks as the silence stretches even longer- and he notices the stares around him. âNeeds a little more saltâŠâ
Toji feels like keeling over. âI am going to-â
âHere, Ms.â Megumi picks up one of those cute, floral-decorated cookie packets on the counter and pushes it into your hands. âFree of charge.â
âThank you. IâŠâ You look at Toji as though youâre about to say something moreâbut then a call of your name from across the school field catches your attention. Another teacher was waving you over for something- and with an apologetic smile, youâre bowing your way out of there.
Itadori whistles, âWow, Mr. Fushiguroâs dad. Maybe if you hadnât waited around beinâ a scaredy-cat then Ms. Teacher mightâve gotten the cookies before Todo.âÂ
Immediately Kugisaki gets down from the counter- grabs her rubber hammer, and slams it down on Todoâs head.Â
Then before Toji can feel a rush of pride, she grabs two cookie packets and beckons him to crouch down to her height.
Once he does, she presses both packets to his cheeks and asks seriously. âAnd what are you?â
âA fuckinâ idiot cookie.âÂ
A small gasp.
From the other side of the counter, he hears furious scribbling as someone jots that particular word downâhe doesnât need to look to know that itâs that Inumaki Toge again. Noooooâ! Itâd slipped out accidentally, he promises. Also on the other side of the counter was Todo Aoi who was now eyeing the other cookies enviously- Megumi frowns and starts pulling them away from him.
Itadori turns to Toji and shakes his head as though heâd been the adult in this situation. âItâs a shame, though. Phase Two has also failed - take the L, Mr. Fushiguroâs dad.âÂ
âL.â Kugisaki echoes.
âL.â Todo.
âL.â Somehow Toge.
Megumi nods. âLoser.â
And somehow that hurt the mostâ
He groans.
Todo huffs. âCanât believe you just got framemogged by the TJE class monitor, old man.â
Toji whirls around with a glower. âMugged? Iâve never gotten mugged by anybody-â
âBut since youâre all just begging meââ Todo turns to the bemused others with his arms crossed importantly. â-Iâll teach you the true art of rizzing.â
.
.
.
FUSHIGURO MEGUMIâS (and co.) FIVE-STEP PLAN TO MATCHMAKE HIS FATHER AND HIS TEACHERâPHASE THREE: A DATE.
Status: -84834832849 aura.
A date.
Not one heâd asked you out on, of course.Â
Spring had neared like a reawakening of the Earth; the breeze was warm. The Sun cascaded softly. The birds were twittering. And Fushiguro Toji was losing itâhe had already had enough of making a fucking fool out of himself in front of you.
And now he was about to do it all over again.
Megumiâs elementary school was hosting a picnic with the kids in Ueno Park, in honor of the cherry blossoms beginning to open up.Â
Parents were invited too, of course.Â
And it was inevitable that youâd be there.
Now with that kid Todo - a student a year older than the trio, it seems heâd found himself attached to Itadori though Toji has no idea how that friendship started - onboard for the scheme, Toji was finding himself pulled around like a marionette. This ridiculous scheme to kinda-sorta try and make you fall in love with himâŠ
That he was going along with.
So for the outing, the four had emphasized that Toji wasnât to come unless he was looking his absolute best. Theyâd told him to burn that usual black t-shirt of his - no matter how many times he tried to insist that he had a wardrobe full of identical ones. He wanted Megumi to vouch for him, but the boy had lied.
That traitor.Â
Thus on the Saturday morning itâd been planned; Toji spent a good few hours in front of the mirror.
Tugging back the sleeves on his white cotton sweater- heâd been told that people appreciate forearms more this way. Dousing himself in perfume. Putting on one of those face creams Kugisaki had recommended after asking her guardian. Attempting to tame his shaggy, black bangs. He made sure his biceps were looking good that dayâand stuffed Megumi into his matching sweater as well nâ rushed off to Ueno Park.
He thought he looked pretty good, honestly.
Todo eyes him warily once he arrives, ââŠThatâs the best youâve got?â
âThe hellâs wrong with it?â
âItâs justâŠnot sigma-â
âShut-â
A few parents turn to look at him.
âHe started itâheââ
After certainly no small amount of bickering (and much apologizing from the woman that seemed to be Todoâs guardian), they managed to make it to the picnic area. Where a row of multi-colored checkered blankets were laid out across the green grass like some form of a quiltâMegumi wastes no time before waddling over to where Itadori and Kugisaki were seated with their families.
And before long, the three kids were tugging several blankets closer together and creating a larger one.Â
As Toji sighs and stalks over to themâheâs suddenly stopped by Todo Aoi. Evidently having broken free from his guardian for far, far greater purposes; he holds his hand up and makes Toji freeze. âYou have much to learn, donât you, old man?â
âHaaah?â He balks down at the boy.
âTrue rizzlers donât sit around playing teatime with kidsââ He throws his arm behind at the other three, â-and my beloved brother, Yujiââ They were related?! âTrue rizzlers have to be tall and nonchalant even if theyâre short and chalant.â
Toji eyes him warily. ââŠOkay? And what am I supposed to do?â
âTalk. To. Her.â
âHowââ
âGo there-â Todo stabs a finger in your direction. But Toji didnât need it to know where to look.Â
He sweeps his eyes across the cherry blossom gardens- and his eyes seem to find you as they always do. Even in a garden of the worldâs brightest and rarest flowers, you would be the most beautiful.Â
âBrother eugh, youâre getting that sappy look on your face again- nonchalant. You have to be nonchalant!â Todo exclaims.
You were wearing a summer dress that fluttered around you in the soft breeze- and before he knows it, the little boy was pushing him towards where you were standing.
âW-waitââ
âOh, has Phase Three started already?â Soon enough, Itadoriâs voice is piping up right beside him. And heâs pushing Toji, too.
Then comes Kugisaki. âOoooo they always have a cherry blossom episode! I love those.â
The dark-haired man looks to his son for help, and he pretends not to meet his eye.
Dammit.
âFineâfine.â An unstoppable force meets an immovable object. Tojiâs pushing back against their persisting guidance, and they just wonât have it. Youâre going to notice him being made a fool again. âIâll talk to her. Donât rush meâI said donât-â
âWhy is it that every time thereâs trouble, itâs got something to do with the five of you?âÂ
Too late.
With your hands on your hips, youâre walking over with a playful smile.
Though there was nothing playful about the way his heart thunders-
High-pitched giggles emanate from behind him, and he doesnât have the time to compute before all three sets of small hands - and Megumiâs mildly disappointed stare - vanishes. The kids are running off, leaving the two of you alone, once youâve properly walked up to themâleaving Fushiguro Toji to fend for himself and alsoâŠcollapsing to the ground. Because of the lack of force from behind now, his ass hits the soft grass and youâre trying not to laugh from above.
Pretty hand reaching out, âEverything alright, Fushiguro-san?â
âToji.â He somehow manages to blurt out, taking your hand and getting to his feet. âCall me Toji.â
âOf course.â And then youâre sharing your own first name. He repeats it like a spring breeze.
Then, like the fool he is, Toji stands around admirinâ youâlong enough that the silence stretches a little awkwardly, and youâre starting to shuffle on your feet. He hears a chorus of small groans from somewhere behind him, and quickly amends- âUhhh, do you like walks down cherry blossom paths?â
Youâre raising a brow in faint amusement, âYes?â
âHave you walked down cherry blossom paths?â
âNot this year.â
âWill you walk down cherry blossom paths?â
âFushiguro Toji, are you asking me to walk together?â You bump his shoulder with yours, then loop a hand around arm - he felt like arm candy, but donât save himâToji was exactly where he wanted to be - and start walking between pink-shedding trees. âYou shouldâve just said so. Should we have invited Megumi as well?â
âWhoâs Megumi?â
Your startled laugh echoesâand itâs the most beautiful thing heâs ever heard.
The two of you loop around the pathway and then back again in companionable silence; though questions and confessions constantly bubbled up to Tojiâs throat. Are you having fun? Is his body too warm? Can you hear his heart beating? Do you like the cherry blossoms? Do you know youâre far more beautiful than them?
Why do you glance at him with that knowing smile?Â
What secrets do you hide?
Before he knows it, the two of you have reached the spot where you met once more. And four eager children wait for something to happen- for something to be said.
Toji knows he might not get another opportunityâso as soon as the cherry blossoms are tapering out to more of the green grass, heâs turning to you and stammering. âI-I have something to askâŠâ
âYes?â You smile.
âAnd it might be strange-â
âYes?â
âAnd weird-â
âOh, yes?â
âAnd creepy- donât be afraid to say no if itâs creepy.â
âHuh?â
âButâŠâ He feels the question: would you wanna grab coffee sometime? claw at his throat. Toji knows youâre waiting, anticipatingâand then a cherry blossom flutters down and lands on your crownâmaking you look far too angelic. âWould youâŠhappen to know that Japan is turning footsteps into electricity.â
You balk. âExcuse me?â
Toji whispers to himself faintly. âU-using piezoelectric tilesâŠevery step you take generates a small amount of energy. Millions of stepsâŠtogetherâŠâ
âOkay, old man, letâs get you to bed.â Todoâs - Todo, of all people - is coming to his rescue. Ushering him away, whilst his son hopefully manages to cover for his father with a good excuseâ
âI do not know that man.â Megumi tells you, then leaves.
Youâre left shrugging. AhâŠ
As theyâre walking back to their picnic area, Kugisaki murmurs. âThis is the cherry blossom episode. Next is the episode where you get hit by a truck-â Toji really hopes it is. âGuess thisâll be that sort of unfinished love dramaâŠâ
âMy uncle loves hitting people with trucks.â Itadori beams.Â
Megumi smacks his forehead once more-
Toji narrows his eyes. âYouâre gonna give yourself a concussion if you keep doing that.â
The boy smacks his head even harder. âI hope so.â
Toji mutters to himself. âFuckinâ me too.â
Behind him, he already knows that Inumaki is jotting this somewhere in some bushes.Â
As the picnic continuesâmore and more of Megumiâs friends join their combined blankets. Toji notices you fluttering about, too.
So caught up, in fact, that he doesnât even notice four matchmaking masterminds roping in their schoolmate Yuta into a deep conversation.
Toji sneezes- someone must be talking about him.
.
.
.
FUSHIGURO MEGUMIâS (and co.) FIVE-STEP PLAN TO MATCHMAKE HIS FATHER AND HIS TEACHERâPHASE FOUR: THE MARRIAGE.
Status: Toji, youâre scaring the huzzzzz-
It seems that Fushiguro Toji was getting married.
Though not exactly of his own volition.
And to whom, exactly? Well, that would be none other than youâ
The wedding shall be held in the idyllic venue of Tokyo Jujutsu Elementaryâs sprawling playground; amongst the swings and pieces of chewed-up bubble gum stuck underneath slides. Music shall be provided by the choir team. Snacks are Goldfish crackers and nothing moreâyou wonât want to miss it.Â
Donât bother to RSVP.
Invitations are open to no one, heâs bound to make a fool of himself.
Again.
Toji shouldâve known that something was up the second Megumi told him to come for pick-up a little earlier than usual. Elementary classes ended their day with around fifteen minutes of playtime, before official pick-up commenced.
And though Toji didnât mind coming in earlier - he usually staved his entrance off for the allocated time so Megumi didnât have to play with his dear olâ dad looming over his shoulder.
Something had to be wrong- maybe he was sick? And yetâŠMegumi was the type to never let out even a peep even if he wasâheâd have to be dragged out of class and still try to convince Toji that he was feeling well enough to go back. Heâd never leave hints like that.
Maybe he didnât like playtime anymore? That certainly couldnât be it- playtime always exhilarated Megumi, no matter how much his deadpan son attempted to hide it. He loved his friends. He loved the small rabbit pen that the school had. He especially loved the twin black-and-white wolf spring riders on the playground.
Or maybeâŠmaybe he was getting bullied-
Toji shakes his head clear of that thought immediately.
Heâd no sooner be bullied by his son than have his son be bullied-
In fact, before heâd met Itadori and Kugisaki- Megumi loved the playground forâŠveryâŠdifferent reasons. Heâd pile his âopponentsâ high like a small kid mountain.Â
Toji shudders.Â
So what could it beâ?
Thatâs exactly the thought tumbling âround in his mind as he walks up to that multi-colored painted building. Instead of going up those steps, however, heâs rounding the corner towards the playground on the other side - where he could hear cheers, laughter, and shrieks. Those youngsters touched the air around them with happiness, and it made some part of Tojiâs chest soar to think that his son was one of them.
Thatâs until heâs actually in-view of the playground and spotting you. Right in the middle of the chaos of elementary classes in playtime.Â
At the foot of the slides.
A bundle of weeds in your hands
A paper veil atop your head.
With that kid Yuta from the grade above Megumiâs stood solemnly beside you. An officiant.Â
It looked likeâŠa wedding.
And the space in front of you was empty for your partner.
Ah.
He looks at Megumi who was avoiding his eyes- so this was the planâŠ
Fuck.
He must have made a noise of bafflement- because just then youâre turning and letting a smile splash across your face. You exclaim. âAhhhâthereâs my groom!â
OhâŠoh, he might faint.
Toji feels numb to the small hands that tug on his arm- âCâmon, câmon! Youâre late, Mr. Fushiguroâs dadâ!â And heâs being dragged all the way to the front of the slide, where his bride-to-be was awaiting him, it seemsâŠâAfter this we need time for the divorce-â
âNo, the divorce should happen like four episodes later.â Kugisaki rolls her eyes.
âThere shall be no divorce.â The seven-year-old Yuta speaks above them - out of them all, he seemed to be taking his role the most seriously. And he beckons the happy couple closer to one anotherâfuck, Toji couldnât even meet your eyes.
Standing in front of you, he stuffs his hands into his pocket and keeps his eyes trained on the ground- giving you a brief nod. ââSup?â
âOn second thought, there may be a divorce.â Yuta solemnly declares.
âHey-â Toji sends a glare at the black-haired little boy with the wide eyes, then crosses his beefy arms. âSo are we gettinâ married or not? Chop chop.â
You shake your head fondly, âDonât worry- we cut into rehearsal time for this, it seems.â
âStart the musicâŠâ Kugisaki whispers to MegumiâŠsimply standing on the sidelines and sinking deeper into his bangs with every passing second. âThe musicâ!â
Megumi lets out a sigh beyond his years, and clicks on the classroom speaker they mustâve brought from inside.Â
In mere seconds, Stateside by PinkPantheress with Zara Larsson starts flooding the playground. Kugisaki hums to herself with a smile- âPinkPantheress nâ Zara always makes things better.â
Soon enough Yutaâs reading out of a scribbled notebook in his hands, âWeâre here today to um- something about marriage.â He looks between the two of youââHold hands, please. They always do that in the movies.â
The two of you share a look.
And then you do.
Your fingers are warm nâ perfectly fitted in his - he doesnât have to think to curl his own fingertips around yours. Itâs as if his hands were made for holding yoursâthe thought zips through his body and he wonders why the hell he was getting emotional as though this was a real weddingâŠ
Yuta continues, â-ummm, something about love.â Toji almost jolts. âSomething about caring. Something about taking care of each other when youâre not feeling too good- like my momma always does, heh. She makes this chicken soup that-â
âGet on with itâ!â Kugisaki hisses.
âWait- what sort of chicken soup?!â Itadori pleads.
âThatâs my rizzler! Toji broâ!â Todo cries.
âOh, yeahââ He looks back down at his useless notes. âAnd stay together forever and ever and ever for at least 67 years no matter how far apart you are, or how scared of your feelings.â Yuta looks at Toji pointedly- who did this kid think he was?! âDoes the happy couple have any vows?â
And maybe this was it.
Maybe this was his moment.
Maybe this wasâŠ
Tojiâs scarred lips open. âI-â
Suddenly the speaker playing music explodesânot literally, though for a moment there it did feel like it. The dance-pop song thatâd been playing inexplicably heightens in volume until their ears rung- and Megumi hastens to turn it down.Â
Kugisaki smacks the speakers with her rubber hammer a few times before it stops. Then with nothing to play in the background, she elbows the pink-haired boy in his sideââYuji, hit it!â
âMe?!â Itadori yelps, before noticing everyoneâs gaze upon him. Itâs slowly dawning upon Toji that this might not be the best place for a real confession when Itadori suddenly starts doing some confusing two-step. âYou gotta go and I canâtâŠehh, sorry. UhhhhâŠNepal. I just donât want to say that-â
âPlease.â Megumi drones. âPlease stop.â
He stops.
Mutely, Kugisaki smacks the speaker once more and Stateside blares again.
Toji turns to the officiant- and shakes his head.
Yuta looks at you, âAnd what about you, Ms?â
âOhâmy vow is that youâre all getting extra homework if eeeeevery single one of you doesnât dance to the reception tomorrow.â You look at each and everyone.
Small faces scrunched in glee.
Yuta hisses at Itadori. âTime for the ringsâthe rings!â And the pink-haired boy startles to hand them to him- just a single one plopped onto Tojiâs open palm. It was one of those cheap ring pops; still slightly sticky and encrusted with flecks of strawberry candy from before. The actual candy part of it had been very-obviously eatenâŠ
âSorry.â Itadori still smiles. âI ate it.â
âAnd theâŠother ring?â
âI ate that, too.â He excitedly claims, âPlastic and all!â
âIâŠlove whateverâs wrong with you.â Toji furrows his brows. âBut also what.â
âEnough talkâexchange the rings then vow your undying love!â Kugisaki yells. âThen die!â She turns to some of the other kids looking at her strange- âWhat? I donât mean it like thatâthe dramaâs just better when they die. Where are you going- where are you-â
âScary kid.â Toji comments. âBut sweet. But scary.âÂ
Megumi distances himself from everything.
Before long, Yutaâs announcing that they âexchangeâ rings.Â
You mime putting one on him.
From the sidelines, Todo sobs into Itadoriâs t-shirtâseriously, were they actually related or not?! âMarriagemaxxing alreadyâŠIâm so p-proud of you my rizzlerâŠmy brother in rizzâŠmy sidekickâŠâ
He jerks. âSideââ
Yuta speaks. âAnd do you, Ms. Teacherâtake this auraless man to be your husband?â He can already tell who came up with this officiantâs script- but before he can throw a glance at the trio and Todo, youâre nodding.
âI do.â
Toji feels his heart flutter. He grows warm.
And his fingers are just as tender and sweet as they slip that ring pop onto your left handââThen I announce you married- uh. Smooch?â
âEuuuuuuuugh! Gross-â Megumi wails.
If Toji thought that heâd been warm earlierâthen he wasnât prepared for right now. It feels as though his entire body was on fire from the inside; every vein, every cell, every single part of him that hummed with delight at the notion. That made him blush.
So embarrassingly, as though this was his first-ever crush.
Toji catches your eye- and you give him the briefest of nods.Â
And then heâs leaning inâŠheâs hearing your breath catch- and pressing his lips to the back of your hand - just the lightest of grazes, where the ring pop stood out - before pulling back just as quickly. Nothing indecent. Nothing that would give away anything to youâ
That ringâŠ
It tasted sweet on his lips.
The surrounding kids cheer- loudly. Now it seems that everyone in the playground had joined in on this little actâand thatâs exactly what it was.
Just a little act.
Tojiâs lips quiver with the beginnings of a sentence heâs been aching to say for so long-
And then the school bell rings denoting time for pick-up.
Around you, the kids run to their classrooms and their backpacks - excited to tell their parents about what theyâd just done in the playground. And as the sea of small bodies moves and thrashes against the two of youâŠToji just remains standing. Staring.Â
Something within him still unfinished and unsatisfiedâ
Youâre keeping his gaze for a few more seconds, before finally dropping it and unscrewing the plastic ring from your finger. âI uhâŠsorry about that- and thank you for playing along.â
âYeahâŠâ He faintly says. âYeah, no problem.â
You give him a tight-lipped smile. âAnd if you donât mind, I should probablyâŠâ
You gesture to the parents that had started walking in now, and he jerkily nods. âYeah- yeah, go doâŠthat.â
âYeah, IâŠâ Youâre then holding your hand out to him- nodding at him to keep his palm open. Then dropping the strawberry-scented ring pop into his hand. âGuess the divorce came a little sooner than expected, huh?â
âTwo seconds, thatâs a new record.âÂ
Starting to walk backâyou briefly wave. If he was a cockier man, heâd have called you nervous. âIâll see you at the talent show, ex-husband.â
âHopefully sooner, ex-wife.â
âOh- yes, the upcoming parent-teacher meetings.â
âThatâŠâ Toji murmurs to himself. That too, he supposes.Â
And as he watches you leaveâŠKugisaki is the first to speak up. âNot even a date? Awww man, I hate slowburns.â
He gapes, âI uhâŠâ
âNo, he got scared of his feelingsââ Itadori adds. Toji squirms. âDid you know my uncle says he doesnât have feelings? My grandpa agrees.â
âDad.â Megumi pulls on Tojiâs t-shirt to get his attention.Â
âYes, son?â
And so deadpan, so unexpected- âYou fumbled just like Klay Thompson.â
Dammit, son.
Speedwalking to the school with them. âThe fuck just happened?â
That one he mouths- he mouths. But Inumaki writes that one down fast-
.
.
.
FUSHIGURO MEGUMIâS (and co.) FIVE-STEP PLAN TO MATCHMAKE HIS FATHER AND HIS TEACHERâPHASE? CURRENTLY ON HOLDâŠ
âSoâŠâ Youâre twiddling your thumbs together on top of the desk, eyes trained on Toji whilst his own dart around the colorful classroom. âMegumiâs such a good kid- honestly thereâs nothing more to say about him.â
Because today was the day of parent-teacher meetings; that half-an-hour where parents sit before you and leaf through crayon drawings and mathematics that made them cringe. Toji himself hadnât been the biggest fan of them when Megumi was youngerâwhy the fuck would kindergarteners need parent-teacher meetings?!
But now that his teacher was youâŠ
At least it gave him something even more to look forward to.
So he sets his elbows on your desk and leans inâevery meeting had been conducted sitting on opposite sides of your teachersâ desk. It was far too much proximity for his poor heart to takeâbut you sure as hell wonât hear him complaining.
Not a single peep.
He glides his roughened fingertips over the pages before him- Megumi was never the type to be cagey about his grades. And either way he did get everything above an 80%.Â
Toji tries not to let the tips of his lips twitch upwards into a smileâespecially as he looked over one of the artworks that Megumi had done: a slightly-smudged drawing of three small figures, one with pink hair, another with a brown bob-cut, and then a portrait of himself.Â
And then two larger figures on either side of them
Toji and yourself.
The prompt had been Megumiâs familyâŠ
âYou should be very proud, yâknow.â Your gentle voice breaks through the quiet air in the classroom.Â
Toji had come slightly after the other parents, as organizing Megumiâs little sleepover at the Itadori household (with Kugisaki and Todo in tow) had been absolute chaos. Today theyâd offered to take the children in because apparently Itadori had gotten some earthworm movies heâd wanted to share. And though Megumi didnât seem particularly excited at the prospect of earthworms, heâd been begging for weeks to have this sleepover.Â
Now. The sunlight dipped beneath the horizon outside, casting the classroom into its warm embraceâlike kindling fire. The light bounced off your features and touched his lips, too. Where things were perpetually encased in day and the hours were hot and lazyâlike the leaping spark from a fireplace.Â
For the first time in a long time, Toji lets himself smile. âYeah. Yeah, I am.â
Youâre nodding with a smile- âHe speaks about you a lot, did you know that?â Once Toji shakes his head, youâre continuing. âAbout how strong you are, about how youâre funnyââ Your nose crinkles, â-but an awful cook.â
âI know.â Something about that felt so knowing. âIt really is a pleasure having Megumi in my class- heâs quiet but I think Yuji and Nobara are slowly bringing him out of his shell. Heâs diligent. Heâs quietly kind. Heâs a sensitive kid, he notices things faster than most.â
âIâm sure he gets that from me.â He smirks.
You hum, staring at the blood-orange sky outside. Thereâs a long pause before you speak againââAnd I think itâs sweet how heâs trying with his friends to set the two of us up.â
Tojiâs jaw drops.
Actually drops.
For a moment heâs speechlesâhell, he thinks he might be speechless till the end of time. Sure, heâd guessed that you mustâve noticed something being offâŠbut he never thought youâd actually realize the two of you are being set upâ!
You catch the look in his eyes- âOh, câmon. You didnât think I wouldnât notice, did you?â
âI uhâŠâ
âThe cookies. The wingmanning. The wedding. The plans-â Stifling a laugh. âElementary schoolers arenât very good at whispering, you know that?â
âDamn.â Toji fists his hands, softly thumping them against the table. âAnd here I thought a bunch of elementary schoolers could fix my love lifeâŠâ
You humâsomething coy in your tone. âWhy donât you fix it yourself?â
And Tojiâs snapping his head up so fast that he thinks he mightâve caught whiplash-
âWould youâŠâ He swallows. He starts off unsurely. ââŠmaybeâŠlike to get coffee sometime-â
âYes.â
Barely waiting till the sentence flies off his tongue before you respond- it makes Toji wonder whether youâve been waiting for this as long as he has.Â
Embarrassment shows in your slightly-frantic movements, as you start picking at the stationary on your desk and smoothing out your clothes. Nervous. It hits him. âI uhâŠyouâre my last meeting of the day, actually. Iâm free to grab some coffee now, if you want?â
Heâs never agreed to anything faster in his life.
Less than twenty minutes later and the two of you have found yourselves in the cute new coffee shop down the road. The faintest memory of sugary goods still etched on your smiling lips, and your cups of drinks warming your handsâthe two of you were sitting and talking at a window booth when the rain had started.
âOh, shitâŠâ You peer outside. âYou were right.â
âHm?â Toji takes a sip of his black coffee.
âThe weathermen always lie.â
More than the panging warmth at the idea that youâd remembered a throwaway comment heâd said- was what youâd followed that sentence up with.
âHey, I know this is out-of-the-blue, butâŠI donât have an umbrella with me, and taxis are costly this time of evening.â You shift in your seat, avoiding his eyes for perhaps the first time since heâs met youââMy apartmentâs close by if youâd wanna maybe grab an umbrella from there? You could even hang around until the rain subsides, if you wantâŠâ
This time, itâs his turn to reply embarrassingly fast. âFuck yeah.â
And so youâd ran.
Youâd ran hot on each otherâs heels as though someone was chasing youâmaybe fear, maybe your inhibitions, maybe the feeling that Fushiguro Toji wanted to kiss you so badly.
So bad.Â
Youâre sploshinâ the five-minute walk it takes to reach your apartment- before youâre both darting inside and closing the door to the world. Just the two of you. On opposite sides of the narrow vestibule connecting the entrance to the living room. To your bedroom.
Toji presses himself against the cream-colored wall and breathes in. heavy.
This entire place carried your sweet, sweet scentâand it was driving him crazy.Â
In front of him, your hands seemed to absent-mindedly reach for the umbrella holder- blindly clasping around one polished handle. âI uhâŠâ
âYou-â
Youâre both attempting to speak at the same timeâthen abruptly stop when the other speaks. You gesture for him to continue, and he does the same for you-
âI just meant- hereâs your umbrella.â
âThanks.â Like a zombie, heâs reaching out and clasping it.Â
This was itâthis was really it.
He was about to leave.
He was about to wake up from this dream.
Before Tojiâs letting the umbrella drop to the floor- and youâre both crashing into one another. Itâs built and builtâand the coil of tension had tightened and tightened before finally snappingâ!
Lips against lips.
Tongues against teeth.
His lips sliding against yours and positively ravishing youâone of his large hands finds purchase on the back of your head. His warm touch. Toji feels the pretty pulse on your neck quicken as he tips your head back and delves his tongue even deeper - memorizing the taste of you to every crevice in his brain.Â
Your essenceâŠhe wants it imbued into him.
Absolutely starving.
He just couldnât get enough of you.
He just couldnât get enough of you.
The two of you are making out sloppily- and the sounds of lips lifting from lips permeates your entire apartment. Punctuated occasionally by the hollow grunts that Toji himself was letting off.Â
Your cunt twitches between your legs - and youâre pressing yourself into Toji even further. Pushing against his toned body. Rolling your hips against the raging, hot erection thatâd found itself home in his pants. Just the sheer size of it- the thickness, the way it throbbed against you was enough to make you let out a soft, simpering nose.
One that heâs gladly swallowing up wholeâgreedily, even. Because thatâs exactly what he was.
A fucking greedy man for everything thatâs to do with you.
And heâs waited for far too long.
In no time, youâre taking him by his larger hand and pulling him to your bedroom. Leaving the umbrella and your reservations behind.Â
Toji lets out a hallowed groan as heâs being pushed back into the bed- the backs of his knees hitting the mahogany bed frame. Your hands flying to the ties of his trousers. Your own knees striking the floorâ
âEasy thereâŠâ Toji brushes one hand down the side of your face- reaching back into your scalp and tightening. âDonât want my girl to get hurt.â
âYour girl?â You grin. âYou havenât even asked me out on a proper date yet.â
âAnd you should be buyinâ me dinner before this. Lecher.â
Youâre huffing as youâre able to tear that wretched fabric off his muscular legs- finally. And your jawâŠdropsâŠ
He was soâŠ
Fucking big.Â
From the moment his achinâ cockâs freed, Toji springs out and seems to pulse even thickerâthe start of his base reminding you of one of those soda cans. Toji reaches down to wrap his other hand âround it, his palm covering some of the dark curls decorating his pelvis, and he seems to look even bigger when framed like this.
Rock-hard. Covered in numerous veins.
They were dappled all across his inches and throb-throb-throbbing- so ravenously hard that Tojiâs length twitched the moment heâs feelinâ the cold bedroom air.Â
And not only was he big, but that curve of his shaft was delicious.
It made you wonder what itâd feel like to have him curve up insideâŠ
Upwards tilted. That crown of his craning up at the ceiling. The pointed end of his cock ended off with his blushinâ mushroom tip- so fat nâ already soaked in his wads of sopping precum. The color of it was the prettiest tannish pink youâve ever seen in your entire lifeâand so you really couldnât help but lean down and press a chaste peck-
The taste of his salted-caramel pre takes over your tastebuds immediately.
âO-ohâŠâ Tojiâs head throws backwards with a gravelly groan. âDonât go teasing me now, doll.â
âYouâre the one thatâs been teasing me this entire time.â You counter. Though youâre looseninâ your jaw and taking him in even further. Inch by solid fucking inch.
Itâs hard to stuff Tojiâs cock all down your throat like you so-badly wanted- he was big. Nâ those zig-zagging veins down his length made you want to lingerâŠmassaging the roof of your mouth with a few semi-gulps that rub his inches on top. Again and again.
Youâre shuttering your eyes and moaning deep into his shaft at the carnal scratch he somehow seemed to soothe.
âAh ahââ Youâre hearing him before youâre feeling him- suddenly, two thick fingertips are pinching your poor nostrils together. Eyelids flapping open to stare up at him.
Toji has the most cocky smile across his beautiful scarred lips as he peers down at you. âNow whatâs this about refusinâ to take me anymore?â He asks you, punctuating the that of his sentence with a thorough nudge of his bulbous tip down your throat. âYou donât wanna take me any further, doll? Or youâŠâ
And another.
Though, this time, it wasnât a nudge at all.
And Tojiâs massive length is pushing apart the wet walls of your throat- and mazing his throbbing cock inside. The noises youâre letting out when you slurp him up are so prettyâ
And the older man uses his second hand to wipe a stray tear off your cheeks, â-canât?â
âMmmâmmmfg.â Choking down both your needy sobs nâ your breaths. Youâre clawing at his thicks- so thick and toned.Â
âWhat? Whaaaat?â He pinches your nose even harder. âWhaâs the matter, teach?â
âYou-â Barely able to mangle out some semblance of coherent syllables - youâre going cross-eyed trying to both take him in deeper, and look at the fingers blocking off your airway. âMmm- ngh.â Whatever mess of a sentence that was meant to be, itâs coming out embarrassingly jumbled.
Embarrassingly so.
And tears are just starting to stream down your cheeks- your cuntâs getting even wetter at his actions and pushing against his toned calf- once he finally lets go. Finally.Â
With a loud pwah! youâre removinâ your swollen lips off of his cock. Feeling for your poor nose thatâs startinâ to stingââSo mean, Toji. I shouldâve bit that dick off.â You joke.
He looks at you with a leer, âWe both know that out of the two of us, youâd be the most disappointed with that.â And it was true- it really was true. But Toji takes it a step further by lazily reaching his calf over and pushing it against your cunt. Dripping wet even through those panties of yours- your pretty dress was hiked up nâ already exposing that sweet puddle thatâd formed in the middle of your underwear.Â
His mouth waters at the sight.Â
âSee what I mean?â Then Toji straightens up and pats the top of his manspread thighs. An invitation.Â
âBut, I havenât evenâŠâ
âSâokay.â He nods at you reassuringly. You didnât have to worry about any of that needing to please shit with him- heâd be the one driving you wild tonight. âI have something even- heh, sweeter in mind.â
And hopefully every night after that.
In a mere few moments, youâre settling yourself on Tojiâs lap. And then heâs attacking your mouth in a mind-numbing kiss, tongue swipinâ between your lips before ultimately sucking on those tastebuds of yours. Sucking. Like candy.Â
He then maneuvers the two of you to then drape you across the sheets; slightly sodden with lust and perspiration. The blankets stick against your clammy skin as Toji presses your hips down on the mattress- âDown, girl.â His fingertips dig into the side of your waist.
âWhatâs that about not teasing?â You pant.
With a low chuckle, Toji presses a peck on the left side of your hipsâthen creeps himself down until his handsome features were huffinâ and puffinâ against your sodden cunt. His own hot breath seemed to reach out to youâcurling, cloooouding, it seemed to stroke down that watery slit of yours. âFushiguro Toji never teases.â
âYouâre teasing right-â
âMâjust waiting for the perfect moment.â And thereâs not a second wasted- before Toji lurches himself nose-deep between your legs and gives your dripping pussy a good lick!
âO-ohâŠâ Your mouth waters at the brazen touch- body jolting just a little. Though if you thought that Toji would let you so much as squirm whilst heâs locked between those thighs of yours, then youâd be sorely mistaken. His fingers dip down the expanse of your legs and clutches you close against his ravenous mawââArenât you going to take off my panties, Toji?â
âDonât be vulgar, doll.â He mutters- just to tease you. âMâgonna eat you through your panties, of course.â
And itâs the only warning youâre getting.
Before Toji latches his puckered lips to your cunt- properly, this time. And his loooooong tongue was lavishinâ across every inch of your pussy he can reach. Through your pantiesâToji gapes his mouth open and laps like a fuckinâ animal at the leaking slit your underwear was stick to, your swollen folds, your utterly needy button.Â
âMmmmpf-â Tojiâs prominent nose pushes apart your pussylips, and heâs feelinâ for that puckered, pretty nub. Already throbbing like youâve been so impatient for him this entire time.
He presses himself closely against your clit for a few secondsâthrob-throb-throb!
Like a ticking time bomb. Heâs driving himself absolutely wild; before snakinâ your panties to the side and thrashing his tongue against your raw cunt. Slurping. Sucking. Everything and anything of you he could find - heâs pushing himself so nose-deep into your pussy that he damn-near canât breatheâand eating you out like an animal. âMmmm, donât you move a s-single inch now.â Toji tightens his hold on your quivering legs. âI havenât even started yet.â
âStarted whatâŠ?â You babble out - your hips were yearning to push off the creaking mattress.
Though all it took was a fraction of his strength to pin you back down, roverinâ his tongue on the slick-glued insides of your folds. Rooooound and round in circles that left your mind dizzy. âHeh- what else dâyou think?â Toji answers. âMâteaching this pussy how to take Fushiguro Toji, that mouth of yours barely could.âÂ
âRude.â
Before you could pipe up anything more witty, heâs spankinâ four fingertips down on your glistening pussy. âSânot rude if itâs true.â
âIâm the teacher here, though.â
âThen maybe Iâm the principal.â He leers- swabbing the fat edge of his tongue into your hole. âGonna grade you and everythingâŠâ
âThatâs fuckinâ cornyââ
âMade your pussy weep, though.â
And just in good time, too- because almost immediately heâs letting that first inch of his tongue fuck inside your cunt. Just the first inch. But it was already enough to make your toes curl nâ your back archâTojiâs wet muscle was just so thiiiiiiick.
Heâs plugginâ up your orifices with a mere few thrusts - the ridged texture of his tastebuds kneading your tight walls. Shovelling you open. Shovelling himself deeper inside. The flickerinâ tip of his tongue laps against some of your most tender areas nâ then pushes up into the sensitive roof of your cunt-Â
âSh-shiiiiitââ Youâre keening out in the prettiest trill heâs ever heard. Toji has the audacity to let out a wet giggle at your dripping core - clenching âround him.
His ears burn at the musical note- and before long, your folds are burning at the searing smack! that heâs planting on top of your cunt. Your head drops down to stare at him in shock.
âThatâs a C- for handling yourself.â He echoes. Two more spanks followâbefore Toji nuzzles your gummy pussy nâ laps his tongue across your clit. âBut an A for pretty moans.â
âI th-think that grading syllabus is a little- ngh! skewed, donât you think?â
Yet another spank.
âNot at all.â
He was merciless. Ruthless.Â
Absolutely impounding you with those slashing, scouring strokes of his - Tojiâs thrusts manage to reach so much deeper than youâd have ever guessed. And when he felt that his tongue was stuffed inside your pretty pussy far ânough, heâs flaring those edges outwards and scraping his tastebuds down the sides of your walls. Stimulating your snug channel sooooo fuckinâ goodâ
âSâthat so?â Toji flutters his long, dark lashes up at you. It takes a second for you to register that you might just have said that last thought out loud.Â
Though youâre merely steeling your expression and nodding-
Heâs plasterinâ his fingertips against your puckered pussy with a chuckle. âCute. But flatteryâs gonna get you nowhere- with all this damn squirming youâre doing, your Câs dropping down to a- haaaah, D.â
Your eyes pop open. âB-butâŠâ
âAnd just think-â Toji continues without a single speck of mercy for you. His tongueâs tunneling and thrusting- faster than your frenzied mind can keep up with. â-that if youâre reacting like this to just my long tongueâŠâ Thrust after thrust after thrustâthe curvaceous inches of his tongue donât leave a single bundle of nerve unprobed. Zig-zagging and swabbing wildly - your eyes are rolling to the back of your head. â-yer gonna fucking run away when it comes to my cock, doll.â
âOhââ Youâre tumbling your hips constantly up to him. Attempting to heighten the friction. âPromise I wonât. Promise-â
âAnd now look at you.â And after all heâs taught youâŠToji grasps his left hand underneath your arching body. Grabbing a nice handful of your ass cheeks- it makes him smile to watch your mouth drop in shock at the lecherous action. âDropped down to a D-.â
A fucking minus.
That earns you several more wet spanks. And then a fucking pinchâright on your clit.Â
And Toji merely trundles, âWhere the fuck does this pretty pussy think sheâs going?â
Crashing his lips intoâŠyours. Quiverinâ your weakened limbs around the back of his neck-Â
Your ankles are weakly latching themselves there- slightly glissading down his glossy strands. It messes up his hair just a little, and Tojiâs soon finding himself smirking against those pussylips.
âTchâŠfine, you get a B for neediness.â
Only a B?!
But perhaps it was better that youâd kept your mouth shut - mostly because you couldnât speak over the primal moans that kept escaping your throat - because then Tojiâs sinking his canines âround your clit and swervinâ his face aaaaaaall around your pussy. Every corner and inch.
Heâs fucking coating his features in a layer of your shimmering slick.
Like a damn medallion.
It clings to him in long, ropey excess.Â
âO-oh my godââ And then your trilling vocals break the very second that heâs intruding your hole once more- this time, with his fingersâŠ
You weave your own hands into Tojiâs sweat-dampened hair and hold on for dear life.Â
âHmmm, a little possessive, huh? Mâbumping that neediness to a- hah, A+...heh.â As a reward, youâre getting his textured lips encasing your sopping clitâjust so desperate and damn-near flinching with how hard you were pulsing between your legs. Needing. Needing.Â
Your breath comes out in stuttered bursts, and it takes everything in you to echo. âA-and what do I have to reach to- mm, get your cock, Toji?â
âI dunno, arenât you the one with a t-teaching degree?â Heâs babbling- before that haziness in his eyes clear up once he realizes what heâs just said. âNo, waitâIâm pretending to beâŠIâm the one gradinâ nowâŠâ
Toji looks down at your pussy as though offended. A spank wasnât enough, heâs properly spitting.Â
âThis pussyâs made me pussydrunk, heeeeh?â He scoffs nâ edges in to suckle on your clitâall while his two bulky fingers were scissoring between your pussylips. âAn A+ for thatâŠâ
Pussydrunk.
Though youâre not doing too well yourself.
Youâre just sizzling from the very insides - even your very vessels seemed to be vibrating with that carnal sort of needy for him. And as Tojiâs slashing strikes with his fingers accelerate, so does that kindling pit of pleasure in your stomach. âI th-think mâclose, TojiâŠâ
âClose?â Tojiâs breath hitches. âClose? And we havenât even finished the grading yetâbuck up, doll, because mânot holding back anymore.â
âTh-that was you holding back?!â
Evidently so.Â
And you can surely attest to thatâin mere moments, heâs adding in a third finger with a lecherous slurp! of his honed inches beinâ all sucked in. Down every single joint. Down to his damn knuckles; youâre feeling those mountainous ridges push up against your sensitive pussy, and Tojiâs three fingers were rovering and reeeeeaching every single spot inside.Â
Claiming them as his.Â
Toji laps up a silken line of slick thatâd dripped from your cunt and down his wristâyou were claiming him as yours, tooâŠâGot a second to hear your grades, doll?â Whilst the desperate pleads start to bubble at your throat- âWonât be givenâ you this cock until you doâŠâ
âThen tell them to meââ You shriek. Haaaauling at the thick tufts of his scalp, âFucking tell them, Toji.â
âWell, manners fuckinâ F.â Toji huffs- but he couldnât fool you. Ohhh, the expression on his face was pure ecstasy as you guided his lapping face around your cunt. âBut manners for this pussyâŠhmmmmâŠB.â
âOnly a fucking B-â
âRoughness: used to be C- but oh, mâthinking itâs now an A.â He comments - the more and more frustrated you become, the more your carnal urges surface. Your grip is searing on his scalp. Your legs are locking around his neck. âDoesnât mean you can go easier on me now, teach.â
âFuh-fuuuuck, Tojiââ
âWetness: A+ of course.â Rolling his eyes as if that should be obvious, âSweetness: A++.â
âFuck-â
âThat mouth of yours? D.â
âFuck you.â
âMâtrying to. And hmmmm, about the way she clenchesâŠâ He ponders- before then directly diverting his round, rotund fingertips to the spot just a few inches into your channel. Heâs already mapped your smallest ridges nâ crevices out by all of these thrusts- and youâre feeling pure white-hot pleasure run down your spine as Toji then rams his dexterous fingers into your fucking g-spot. âThatâs an A+++â
Because of course, youâre keeping him hostage.
Of course, youâre squeezing your velvety walls around him until his joints were turning whiteâand Tojiâs fingers were havinâ a tough time moving back and forth stuffed between those clingy walls of yours.Â
And yetâŠheâs scissoring apart your needy grip and ramminâ into your deepest, most sensitive depths.Â
Again and again and again- âYeahâŠthis pussyâs definitely gonna take me now. Isnât that right, teach?â But the only thing your fried head can urge you into doing is nodding. âThaâs what I thought. Dumbification: A.â Toji cocks his head. âDonâtcha think Iâm being too nice with these grades?â
Shaking your head fervently- through sobs.
âMmmmâŠwell, I think I am.â His canines teasingly grip your clit and draaaaag that swollen nub out. âSâalright doll. After this, you can grade my cock when sâtimeâŠâ
He smirks - still keeping that firm attachment onto your most sensitive place - and you can feel it. You can feel itâ
âAnd you can be as fuh-fuckinâ ruthless as you want.â Tojiâs long fingers then curl inside your cunt for a final time beforeâŠâBecause I know mâgonna be fucking my girl right.â
Before youâre shattering.
Breaking into your highâit first starts with an explosion of pleasure between your legs- before teleporting right up to your fuzzy head. Your thighs were quaking. Your pulse was thundering so loud you could hear it with your own ears- and it felt as though those torrential waves of bliss were just taking you over.
âOhâoh, fuck.â Clawing your hands through Tojiâs hair. The only anchor you had was this- and the tunneling digits that were fingering you to ecstasy- he was hitting at every peak. He was elongating your orgasm more than you ever thought possible. âFuck, fuck, fuck- fuuuuuck, Toji.â
âThaâs right- say my name.â He grunts. Such lecherous slurps! echoing from between those legs of yours as he sucked nâ sucked on your clit simultaneously. âSay my name- say my name. Whoâs making you feel this good?â
âToji.â You hiccup. âY-you, Toji.â
A sudden spank! resounds across all four corners of the room.
Your high crescendos even further than your limits- or at least what youâd assumed them to be.Â
âI was lookinâ for sir, but that works, tooâŠâ Your jaw drops at the boldness of this man.Â
âSir? D-donât think that youâre getting off easy when I- ngh, when I finally ride you stupid.â As the last few pangs of your orgasm shimmer through your body, youâre managing to gather your thoughts better than before. âWhat do you think youâd get anyway?â
Toji pulls off your oversensitive pussy with a loud plap! âAâs across the board.â
âOh, donât be so humble.â
With that said- youâre reaching out and grabbing Toji by the collar. He gets dragged upwardsâthe bed dips as the larger man cages you in with his strong forearms. He leers, âI think you pass, donât you?â You could see that somewhere during makinâ out with your pussy, Toji had tugged down his pants- likely to jerk himself off as he did so.
And his long cock stood aching and rock-hard between his legs.
That round, reddened tip of his seemed to wink up at you as he dribbled out a single bead of precum. Aaaaall the way from the edge of his cockhead, and aaaaaall the way down to his bushy black curls at the base.Â
Your mouth waters.Â
Hands on his body- his fingers tearing through your own fabric. Soon enough youâre naked beneath himâand heâs just as devastatingly bare. Perfectly-aligned abs. Chiselled pecs. Fushiguro Toji had a body that made him look as though he was hand-carved by Hercules himself- it was just so sensual the way his ladder-like core pushed down against yours.
And itâs so difficult to keep a stern face facing him when those bulky biceps of his were flexingâright next to your face.Â
But somehow you manage- you were a professional after all, werenât you?
âIâm serious about what I said on riding you stupid.â Youâre murmuring up at him, âFlip over.â
He smirks, âAnd if I donât?â
Within split-seconds, youâre grabbing a fistful of his hair and watch as his cock twitches at the rough manhandlingâat the way youâre turning the two of you over and straddlinâ his hips. Toji bucks with a groan underneath you, but youâre quicker than that- and youâre clasping a hand around his gulping throat. Sweaty and scorching to the touch .
âAh ah-â You tut. âYou already had your fun. Now itâs time for mineâŠâ
âAye aye, teach.â
âQuiet coyote.â
Toji mimes zipping his lips shutâbut thereâs openinâ back up again almost instantly once he feels your sultry hips swivelling down his cock. You duck a hand underneath yourself to grab his throbbing hilt- and before long, his wet tipâs smushing apart your pussylips. Heâs intruding that hole of yours and bucking up into where you needed him the most.Â
He shovels in a few more inches with an echoing sluuuurp! of your pussy viciously gulping him up.
âWhat did IâŠoh.â Beside yourself, your headâs throwing backwards at the sheer pressure he was creating inside. âWhat did I say about staying still?â
âActuallyâŠyou didnât say anything about that.â That grin of his was infuriatingly handsome. âStill, mmm, cockdrunk?â
âYou wishâŠâ Though that wasnât an outright denial.
It was true that your mind was coiled with fog after your last orgasm; the dopamine still coursing through your body. And the way that Tojiâs thickened, textured length was pushing your walls aside wasnât helpingâit was making you feel sensations so raw and carnal- that salivaâs dripping down one side of your mouth after a mere few semi-thrusts.
Just the bulging edge of Tojiâs tip scourinâ your channel inwards.
âAwww, donât tell me I was right?â He asks you- and it registers as mere distant words. Toji reaches out his right hand and wipes away that splatter of spit - before bringing it up to his own mouth and sucking. What an animal. âCanât grade olâ Tojiâs cock? Or is it- heh, so good that Iâm breaking all the scales?â
âYou fucking-â
âYeah yeah, wish- right?â He scoffs meanly. But honestlyâŠhe might be teasing you but he was completely infatuated with the idea of your smart mouth babbling for him like this.
The way you were twitchinâ with every light graze of his flared tip.
Your insides were getting used to him, and Toji was only stuffing himself even deeper. âRightâŠâ Though of course- Toji himself wasnât doing all too hot. Just a single one of your adhesive-like clenches and he canât help but buckâ
âEasy, eeeeasy- you can take me, my girl.â He grits his teeth. He blinks back the tears in his eyes. Heâs guiding your impatient hips nâ grinding your cunt dooooown onto his pelvis. âFuck- fuck, and how dâyou grade the stretch?â
Your eyes pop open. âThe stretch?â
âMhm- the streeeeetchâyeah?â Tojiâs chest rumbles in delight as he watches your every microexpression and reaction. Even the smallest curlings of your toes. âSuch a big stretch feels good, yeah?â
âMhm- I rate it aâŠâ Your jaw hangs open- as though to purposefully influence your grading, heâs shovelling his length a few more times. Faster. âB.â
And thatâŠwhat the fuck?!
âA fucking what?â That makes Tojiâs maw gape, and his handsome face twist into something of bewilderment. You look at him and you honestly let out a little chuckle - but that seems to only spur his driving hips even further. âOh noooo, doll. Youâre joking.â
âI said what I said.â Biting back. âItâs a B becauseâŠâ Throwing your head back and archingâyouâre gaining more movement in your hips and letting him push inside. â-youâre just not- fuck. Bottoming. Out. Fucking do it alreadyâ!â
His feet plant ever-so-slightly on the ricketing mattress- and that means you were feeling the plushness of his muscular thighs against your back. Those tendons and rippling strength. Thereâs honestly nothing more for you to do but gnaw down on your trembling lower lip in the hopes that those embarrassing noises wonât escape-
Because Toji then glues his hands upon either side of your hips and slams your cunt down onto him.
Itâs such incredible friction. Itâs so many of his winding veins- pushinâ apart your walls and scouring you all overâ
Youâre arching your back into him and gasping- âAâŠâ
âA what?âÂ
âA for your veins.â And that honestly manages to catch him off-guard and make him let out an exhilarated bout of laughter. Being in your presence was like four shots of espressoâfucking you was four shots of vodka. Straight. Heâs dizzy and heâs clamorinâ his numerous inches up your pretty channel, watching as you drip glittering globs of slick all âround him.Â
âOhâŠâ Toji seems to grow even bigger inside you. He grips you as hard as your pussy was clenchinâ him. âKeep going-â
âAnd a- fuck, an A for your paceââ Just perfect. Dizzingly fast; whilst still being steady and balanced enough that you were able to feel his textured length slipping into every spot he needed to slip intoââAnd aâŠa fucking F for your attitude.â
âHeyâŠâ Toji juts his scarred lip out in a mock-attempt at a pout. âDonât imply mâsassy when your pussy speaks like that to me.â
Right on cue, youâre letting out some of the most sinful slurps as your cunt slaps right down onto him. Onto his hefty balls.Â
Tojiâs thick brows raise at the sounds- even he didnât think that your pussy could get this chatty. Mouth falling agape as he watches you drip-drip-driiiip.
Youâre grabbing onto both of Tojiâs sculptured deltoids for balance, increasing your pace as your legs start to grow limp. Perhaps noticing your little struggle, heâs supporting one of your legs with his left handâand thumbing over your clit with his right. âAnd then? What elseâdick got yer tongue?â
âYou fuckinâ wish.â You snipe back.
âYeah.â Toji simply replies. Without a single warning, heâs craning his head up and signalling you to open your mouth- instinctually, your tongue sticks out. Perfect for him to spitâa heaping mess between your lips. âYou looked so pretty with my cock stuffed down your throat, too.â
Grumbling - though it was just for show - yet you swallow. âThat was a B- since you almost missed.â One of your hands reaches up to swipe at the splattered saliva piled on the edge of your mouth.
âOh, no.â With such a loving glint in his eyes, heâs leaning up and kissing the mess heâd just left behind. âThat was totally on purpose, doll.â
âF-filthyâŠâ
âYou know it, teach.â
Both of your bodies were slick with sweat and glissading against one another- Toji himself was especially frenzied with his movement. His thrusts. His battering rams. The way his pointed tip struck the end of your cervixâbottomed-out, and then smeared apart your channel to drag aaaaaaall the way back down. Aaaaaaall the way back in.
And through it all- youâre sputtering out the same ruthless grading of his cock. Red-hot and ruining your insides with every thrust. Pump after pump- âDeepnessâŠB.â
Bruising his tipâs circumference at the very back of your pussy. Dribbling out ribbons of pre.Â
âHmmm, alright a B+.â Pleasure runs through your body the more nâ more Toji grows irritated- because that meant the more he was trying to prove himself. The harder he was fucking you. âAnd the- hah, curve: an A.â
âDamn right.â That, he could most certainly be proud of. That slightly upwards curve of him was the perfect shape to mold your walls- to let his honed tip be the searchlight.
And your sweetest spots were what he was aiming for.
After a few more vulgar strokes, Tojiâs rediscovering and ramming himself into none other than your g-spot. That throbbing bundle of nerves thatâd just kept on and on waiting for him to probe you with his shaftâperhaps a bit too long at thatâŠâWhat took you so long to find that spot again, Toji?â
âTake it easy on meâŠâ He pleads with a slight hint of amusement. âYour pussy was to- mmm, hypnotizing. You canât blame a guy for taking a little timeâŠneedy fuckinâ pussy.â
That last bit was said to himself- underneath his breath, in fact.
And yet, your proximity means that youâre catching onto every single word - and without a split-second of hesitation youâre countering back. âOh? What was thatâŠIâm sorry, maybe I was- hngh, hearing things? Because it just sounded to me like you wanted all your g-grade to plummet to an F?â
His lips part. âYou wouldnâtâŠâ
You peck him on the mouth. âTry. Me.â
And fuuuuuckâitâs clear heâs not expecting the way that sends pangs of excitement coursing through every inch of him. Itâs clear he doesnât know what to fucking do with himself- once he propells his ruddied cockhead to hit against the door to your womb.
And Tojiâs thighs are left shivering at the way your walls immediately rush to embrace him.
Suctioning him.
A ribbon of drool drips slowly from the edge of his mouth, âA-and what do I have to do to make it up?â
âHmmmm?â The fact that you made the Fushiguro Toji stutter so blatantly like thisâŠit was driving you wild. It was making the cockiest smile plaster across your face- he wanted to kiss it away so bad but you were teasingly inching your lips away, making him work for it.Â
He growls and repeats- âWhat do I have to fucking do to get- hah, extra credit? To make up for myâŠâ Tojiâs prominent Adamâs apple bobs. â-mistake.âÂ
âThere now. Was that so hard to- hah, admit?â You coo. âGimme a D.â
âHuh?â Toji gapes. âArenât you the one supposed to be- ngh, giving out the grades?â
âYeah, I know. Iâm just telling you to shut up and fuck me harder with your fat dickââ
âYes, maâam.âÂ
He lightly stirs his hips in semi-circular motions to get the most out of his veiny cock- to make sure that those prized nâ precious vessels were massaging your insides just right. âFuck-â Your entire upper half is shaking from stimulation - âFuck, fuck, fuuuuuckâjust like that.â
âHngh, oh yeah?â Honed canines beared.
âFaster-â And he listens.
âHarder.â And he listens once more.
âFucking-â Youâre it escape you in a trilling tone. â-b-breed meâŠâ
Tojiâs breathless once the words register to him. âYes, maâamâŠâÂ
Pumping up into you - meeting your bouncinâ cadence - like he was angry with you. Like he was trying to shove to your deepest depths nâ then probe his erect cock even further. Like he was trying to meld your bodies into oneâ
He was fucking you in a way that was so animalistic.
And Toji canât help it- fuck, he canât help but throw his head backâit just feels so good. Eyes shuttering. Brows furrowing. His hips unsticking from the now-dampened bedsheets to arch properly up into you-
But thatâs when he feels those familiar fingers âround his throat again.
âAh ah ahââ You tut. Your vision was just a little bleary from all the tears and pleasure clogging up your mind- âAnd who said you could- hah, move, hm? Seems like youâre the one running away, not me. What? Scared mâgonna milk you too hard, Fushiguro Toji?â
He growls. âYou littleâŠâ
âF- for handling yourself.â Remembering just how much heâd teased you earlier for similar reactions just made these words so much sweeter on your tongue. âIn factâŠâ
Toji looks eagerly up at you through his bangs.
To which youâre taking your lazy time changing your sloppy cadence into figure-eights instead. It swerved nâ stirred his pussy around your depths; and made it so that the most sensitive parts of Tojiâs veins - that pinkish line underneath his slit, the frailest of his veins, where his balls rested - were being stimulated. Making him pour out wads of precum into you as though it was a waterfallâ
âSee me after class.â
âFuck yes.â Toji grunts to himself- his hair was flying into his face, and every bit of his skin seemed to be furiously flushed. âFuckâfuck, I need to cum inside you.â
Plap after plap after plap! of his hips hitting yours. âMhmmmââ
âI n-need to fill you up until here-â His thumb briefly detaches from your clit to graze your lower stomach, where your womb was wont to be. âI need to feel it pouring out of you- then fuck it all back in.â And he was pistoning into you like it, too.
âShit, mâclose-â
Hard. Fast. The wads of his sappy precum only get stronger and more frequent - âI n-need toâŠâ
Tojiâs voice hatches into nothingness in his throat, and youâre cooing down at him cutely. âWhatâs thaaaat?â
âNeed you to make me a f-father for a second time.â Toji utters.
And then with a particularly hard press on your heart-shaped, swollen clitâyouâre both tumbling into your highs together. Tumbling into one another as you both hold each other through your strong orgasms - even stronger than the one youâd had prior.
Zaps and twinges of pleasure.Â
Goosebumps dapple across your skin.
Your spine arches into him.Â
Now you have Tojiâs ravenous cock bulging into your walls- his globular tip searchinâ for every sweet spot and pinpointing them using his shape. That only elongated the sparks of your high until it felt never-ending; and dopamine washes over your body and leaves you wracking. Hands clawing down wherever you could latch onto the older man. Your knees squeezing tighter around his waist to milk him through his own euphoria. âYesâyes, just like that.â
âOhâŠoh, look at the way mâdripping out of youâŠâ Tojiâs mouth unfastens. Your cunt had already been bloated around his cock- now with his volumes of cum being webbed up inside, it was almost too much for you to handle.
And Tojiâs orgasm rips through him strongâeven his powerful limbs were wrapped around you as he powered through it. His thumb tremblinâ as he rolled and rolled.
He breathes out hot and heavy when those fingers of his dare to wonderâŠright along where a sheen was spreading along your inner-thighs. Every satiny drop of cum he was pouring out gets slid down your cervix- and then trickles deep inside of you. âSo messy, this pussy oâ mine.â
âYours?â You gasp. Though even that tiny reaction meant you feel his warm wetness splosh! inside you.
âMhmmmââ He nods drunkenly. Left arm wrapping behind you and pulling you to him - resting you against his chest. âBut donât worryâŠthis cock is yours, too.â
You scoff. âThe audacity. Didnât I give this cock an F?â
âYeah, you sure did give me a fuck.â
You decide that the only way to shut up him is to overstimulate him by fuckinâ himâperhaps unfortunately for you, Fushiguro Toji seemed to have had the same idea.
âMmm, now what about the parent-teacher meeting? We already- oh, handed out the grades, didnât we?â Heâs whispering in your ear once heâd somehow manhandled you into a doggy position. Sculpted abs pressed against your spine. Beefy arm wrapped around your throat in a headlockâ
âT-to say what?â Youâd wheezed out.
âThat mânot done fucking this pussy pregnant.â
.
.
.
FUSHIGURO MEGUMIâS (and co.) FIVE-STEP PLAN TO MATCHMAKE HIS FATHER AND HIS TEACHERâPHASE FIVE: đČđđđ đđâŠ
Itâs so over.
Today was the day of the talent show; and Fushiguro Megumi had never felt more untalented.Â
And noâŠit wasnât because of any of the other competitionâif he had any idea how these things go, at the end they were going to say that everyone won and everyone gets a prize. This was elementary school, after all. And he was quite grown up.Â
Anywaysâthe point is his, Itadori, and Kugisakiâs magic show had been quite the hit amongst parents especially.
And that wasnât why he was feeling untalented.Â
It wasnât because Todoâs PG-censored version of a Megan Thee Stallion song had been honestlyâŠquite good. It wasnât because Yutaâs puppeteering act had been something thatâd drawn endeared laughter from both kids and parents alike. It wasnât even because of the act that was happening right nowâŠwhere Inumaki was standing alone on center stage with a notebook opened up in his hands. The last act of the night.
The rest of the show had gone swimmingly.
Inumaki was a bit more of the quiet type, but at this moment he speaks into the mic loud and clear.Â
âFor my talent today, I am going to read out vocabulary words taught to me by Fushiguro-san. Thank you Fushiguro-san!â
The audience coos and turns to try and find the aforementioned man.
From his position peaking-in from backstage, Megumi watches his father pale from the first row. And then sink deeper into his seat.
Deeper.
And deeper.
And deeper-
âBud.â
Though the rest of the audience nods in sweet endearment- Tojiâs damn-near jumping out of his seat in surprise. That wasâŠclearly not what he had been expecting.
Not at all.
Inumaki continues.
âCookie.â
And Toji has gathered enough bravery toâŠperhaps properly sit up in his seat. Clapping along with the other parents- looking around to make sure that he wasnât just hearing things. And this was actually what Inumaki was reciting.
âConcussion.â
That one draws some admiring sounds. Such a big word for such a small kidâgood on Fushiguro Toji, right?
He might just be safeâŠ
âAnd divorce.â That one draws mixed reactions- but Inumaki closes his infamous blue notebook, and Toji lets out a sigh of relief - one that was nearly audible backstage.Â
Along with the rest of the parents, he can whole-heartedly start clapping now. Maybe even throw in a cheer or two.
Let the audience know that he was the mastermind behind such academic advancements. Yeah, maybe they should pay him.
But Inumaki wasnât done yet.
âAnd my favorite yetââ Which one was it? Which other important vocabulary word had Toji so graciously bestowed upon this kid? Which other aspect of his life had Toji alleviated by the sharing of precious, precious knowledge? Inumaki firmly grips the mic. âIs fuc-â
Megumi leaps onto stage and snatches the microphone out of Inumakiâs hand before he can complete that specific wordâŠ
But the implication must have been evident either way, because then each set of eyes turns behind to the black-haired man. And glares. Toji flips them off. The applause is more polite than willing now. Then he decides that heâs never showing his face âround here again, heâs never stepping a foot through those damn multi-colored doors if it fucking kills him, heâs neverâ
Just then, youâre stepping onto the stage and graciously taking the mic from Megumi. Heâs so back.
âHello? Is this thing on?â You chuckle into it.Â
And TojiâŠToji knows. He knows he wouldnât mind being thrown a dirty look from every single person he meets- so long as youâre there to spot him out in a crowd. Tugging his son close to youâas you beckon all the other kids on-stage and start your speech.
Itâs mostly thanking those that made it possible; the parents, the staff, and especially the students. Toji isnât quite ashamed to admit that heâd been too busy drowning in your gorgeous tone to even register your wordsâ
Expectedly, you were telling the kids that everyone won - and Principal Yaga had been called on-stage to hand out prizes to every one of the kids. And as Fushiguro Megumi holds his prize - a custom trophy with his name, a certificate, and a bunch of art supplies - heâs suddenly remembering why heâd been feeling so untalented.
It had been a week since Phase Four of the mission to get you and his father together. And it had been a few days since parent-teachers meeting and Toji had come to pick him up the next day, smiling dopily.
Megumiâs sure his fatherâs losing his marbles.Â
And he has the strange, sinking feeling that after tonight- theyâd either forget about the plan or abandon it altogether. Feeling so hopelessâitâs so over.
âHey, FushiguroâŠâ Itadori not-so-successfully whispers to the black-haired boy, ultimately drawing attention from whomever was around the two of you. âFushiguro, isnât that your dad coming up the aisle?â
âAnd why does he have such a big bouquet of flowers?â Kugisaki adds on.
ThoughâŠonce Toji reaches the foot of the stage everything becomes very clear.
Because with a hand coming up to your mouth, and the spotlight shined on you, he lovingly hands you the plush bouquet of roses from below. Roses. Red, red roses.
With a silent thank youâyouâre kissing Toji on the cheek.
Every. Single. One of their jaws drop-
Inumaki starts scribbling something down in his notebook.
Yuta sticks an approving thumbs-up.
Even some of the parents in the audience whisper to one another - most nod approvingly.Â
And Toji catches Megumiâs eye to wink. âWeâll talk later.â He mouths.
Megumi nods mutely- excitement thrums through him so fast that his fists clenchâand Itadori has to clasp onto them. They succeeded? They really, truly succeeded?
His eyes are glimmering as he turns to Itadori and Kugisaki- both nodding excitedly in agreement. They couldnât squeal like they wanted to right now with Yagaâs speech droning on in the background, but afterâŠafter, they had a loooot of questions for the new couple.Â
Together; they loop their arms together in a silent victory.
Theyâre so back.
Though being silent was never something for Todo Aoi.
Yelling.Â
âFushiguro Toji rizzed Ms. Teacher before GTA 6â?!â
Ë . ê· đ° . đŠčËâ youâve had crushes before and youâve had relationships before. youâve also had sex before, perfectly enjoyable sex with perfectly nice people, and none of it ever made you feel like this. itâs as if your entire nervous system has been rewired to respond only to gojo satoru and someone took your baseline level of horny and cranked the dial so far to the right it snapped off.
contents. gojo x fem!reader âą smut smut smut âą reader is just unbelievably horny for gojo âą as he is horny for her but yk âą nothing extraordinary âąart by @tiyu0710
you were in the middle of a grocery run, staring blankly at a shelf of instant ramen while your brain served up a completely unsolicited, high-definition memory of gojoâs hands. not even doing anything particularly scandalous; just the way heâd wrapped his fingers around your wrist the night before to pull you closer on the couch. the effortless strength of it, the way his thumb had brushed over your pulse point, pressed against it, stayed there.
youâd stood there in the noodle aisle for a full thirty seconds, face burning, until an old lady asked you to move so she could reach the soba.
that was when you first started to suspect something was off or maybe not off, exactly, but⊠different.
youâve had crushes before and youâve had relationships before. youâve also had sex before, perfectly enjoyable sex with perfectly nice people, and none of it ever made you feel like this. itâs as if your entire nervous system has been rewired to respond only to him and someone took your baseline level of horny and cranked the dial so far to the right it snapped off.
it started subtly; date one, date two, the usual butterflies. but by the time you officially became a thingâ gojo satoru looking at you like youâd hung the moon and asking if you wanted to be his with that ridiculous, lopsided grinâ something clicked over in your brain and ever since, youâve been living in a state of low-grade, or honestly sometimes high-grade, constant want.
itâs not normal. youâre sure of it. you think about him constantly. not in a sweet, romantic way, though thereâs plenty of that tooâ you think about the way he laughs with his whole body, the way he remembers every tiny thing youâve ever mentioned, the way he looks at you when he thinks youâre not looking.
but alongside all that, thereâs a running undercurrent of pure, unfiltered need. youâll be at work, typing an email, and suddenly youâre remembering the sound he made last night when you bit his lower lip. youâll be brushing your teeth and catch a glimpse of your own reflection and wonder what heâs doing right now, and whether heâs wearing that black sweater that makes his shoulders look impossibly broad, and whether heâd pick up if you called, and what his voice would sound like if you told him exactly what you were thinking.
youâve never been this person. you used to roll your eyes at friends who couldnât stop talking about their partnersâ hands or jaws or the way they said certain words. now you get it. you really, really get it.
the worst partâ or the best part, depending on how you look at itâ is that he knows. of course he knows! gojo satoru misses nothing. those six eyes of his arenât just for show, and itâs like he can read your mind with a single glance. youâll be sitting across from him at dinner, trying very hard to focus on your pasta, and heâll tilt his head like a fox, that little smirk playing at the corner of his mouth, and say, âyouâre thinking about something interesting. care to share?â
and youâll choke on your wine because yes, yes you were thinking about something interesting, specifically the way his belt looked this morning when he was getting dressed, and how easy it would be to unbuckle it with your teeth.
you never say it and you donât have to. he always figures it out anyway.
itâs like he has a sixth sense for when your thoughts have gone south. youâll be sitting in his apartment, supposedly watching a movie, and your focus will drift from the screen to the way his thigh is pressed against yours on the couch. and suddenly youâre not thinking about the plot at allâ youâre thinking about how it would feel to climb into his lap, to push him back against the cushions, to kiss him until neither of you can breathe and ride until thereâs no strength left in your thighs and hips and after that too. youâve barely shifted your weight when his arm comes around your shoulders, pulling you closer, and his lips brush your ear as he murmurs, âyou keep looking at me like that, weâre never gonna find out who the killer is.â
then heâs kissing you, deep and slow, and the movie becomes background noise very, very quickly.
the thing is, itâs not just that he notices. itâs that heâs always, always ready to do something about it. no matter the time, no matter the place. youâve tested this theory more times than you care to admit, sometimes accidentally, sometimes⊠less accidentally.
three weeks into dating, you texted him âneed youâ at 2 a.m., half-asleep and not thinking straight. he showed up at your apartment fifteen minutes later, hair still messy from sleep, blindfold askew, and didnât leave until sunrise.
you learned your lesson. or rather, you learned that there was no lessonâ he would come no matter what. a single suggestive message, a voice note that went on a little too long, a photo that showed maybe an extra inch of collarbone. he was like a heat-seeking missile locked onto your desire, and he never, ever let you wait.
itâs not just the late nights, either. gojo has no concept of âinappropriate time or place,â or if he does, he simply doesnât care. you were in his car once, parked outside a convenience store while he ran in to buy gum, and you spent the three minutes alone thinking about the way his hands looked on the steering wheel. long fingers, elegant knuckles, hands that could kill curses or hold you open like a promise. by the time he got back, you were squirming in your seat, and he took one look at your face, dropped the gum in the cupholder, and said, âback seat. now.â
in the parking lot, in broad daylight, when anyone could have seen. you didnât care. you still donât care.
another time, you were at a crowded bar with some of his coworkersâ shoko and nanami and a few others you didnât know well. youâd been on your best behavior all night, sitting close to gojo but not too close, laughing at his jokes, pretending your leg wasnât heating up from the warmth of his leg pressed against it under the table. but then heâd ordered you a drink and you suggested he try it after you did, heâd picked it up and taken a sip, right where your lips had been, lipstick stain and all, and held your gaze the entire time.
that was all it took for you to feel it like a physical jolt, a hot flash of want that went straight from your chest to somewhere much lower. you tried to play it cool, took a long drink from his glass just to return the favor, but your hands were shaking a little and you knew he noticed because his foot hooked around your ankle under the table.
âbathroom,â he mouthed at you, not a question. ânow.â
you followed him like a woman possessed. nanami raised an eyebrow as you passed. you didnât even have the presence of mind to feel embarrassed.
the bar bathroom was cramped and smelled like bleach and cheap air freshener, and gojo had you up against the locked door before you could say a word, his mouth on your neck, his hands already pushing up your skirt.
âyou have no idea,â he breathed against your skin, âwhat it does to me when you look at me like that. like youâd let me take you right there on the table in front of everyone.â
and the worst part was that he was right. you would have. you would have let him do anything.
his fingers found you beneath your underwear, and you were already soakedâ had been since heâd taken that sip from your glass, if you were being honest with yourself. he let out a low sound, part laugh, part groan, and pressed his forehead against yours.
âfuck, baby. youâre dripping. and you sat through an entire round of drinks like this?â
âshut up,â you gasped, because his thumb had found your clit and was circling it with that infuriating, expert precision. âsatoru, pleaseââ
âplease what?â he asked, all innocence, even as he pushed one finger inside you, then two. âuse your words. you know i like it when you use your words.â
âplease fuck me, satoâ right now. i donât care if someone hears.â
that dangerous, gorgeous grin split his lips and he pulled his fingers out just long enough to unzip his pants. you heard the familiar sound of his belt buckle, the rustle of fabric, and then he was lifting you, your back against the door, your legs wrapped around his waist, and he was pushing inside you in one long, slow stroke that made you see stars.
you came apart against him in that dingy bathroom with your hand clamped over your own mouth to keep quiet, and when you finally surfaced, dizzy and breathless, he was looking at you with something so soft and so smug at the same time that you wanted to hit him and kiss him in equal measure.
âstop staring,â you managed.
âyouâre beautiful,â he said simply, like that explained everything. maybe it did to him.
he hadnât finishedâ he rarely did before you, always so focused on your pleasure firstâ so you slid down his body, ignoring his half-hearted protest, and knelt on the filthy bathroom floor. you looked up at him, at the way his chest was heaving, at the blindfold tugged up above his forehead and the way his pupils had blown wide, and you took him into your mouth.
he swore, loud enough that someone outside definitely heard, and his hand fisted in your hair. not pulling, just holding as you worked him with your tongue, with your lips, with your throat, until his breathing turned ragged and his hips started to stutter.
âbaby, iâm gonnaââ he warned, but you didnât pull away. you took all of him, swallowed everything he gave you, and when he finally went slack against the door, he looked down at you with an expression of utter devastation.
âiâm marrying you,â he said, voice hoarse. âjust so you know. thatâs happening.â
you laughed, rearranging your clothes, and he helped you up and steadied you when your knees buckled. âyouâre ridiculous.â
âiâm serious.â he kissed your forehead, your nose, your lips. âyouâre it for me. you know that, right?â
and in that moment, with the smell of bleach and sex in the air and your lipstick thoroughly ruined, you believed him.
youâve tried, once or twice, to figure out why this is happening. why you canât seem to think straight around him, why your body responds to his presence like a key turning a lock. youâve told yourself itâs just the new relationship energy, the honeymoon phase, the rush of dopamine and oxytocin and whatever other brain chemicals are flooding your system. youâve told yourself itâll fade. it has to fade. no one stays this horny forever.
but then heâll laugh at something you said, head thrown back and eyes crinkled behind his blindfold, and youâll feel it again: that wild, desperate wanting that has nothing to do with logic and everything to do with him or with the way he makes you feel seen. with the way he holds you after, soft and careful, like youâre something precious. with the way he whispers your name when he thinks youâre asleep.
maybe itâs because heâs gojo satoru, and everything about him is overwhelmingâ his power, his presence, the sheer force of his personality. maybe itâs because he chose you, out of everyone, and that knowledge sits in your chest like a live wire. maybe itâs because heâs so good at this, at reading you, at taking you apart and putting you back together, at knowing exactly what you need before you even know it yourself.
or maybe youâre just gone for him. completely, irreversibly, head-over-heels gone.
you think about this as youâre getting ready for bed one night, brushing your hair in front of the mirror while gojo sprawls across your mattress in nothing but his boxers, scrolling through his phone. he looks up when he feels your gaze, and his lips curve into that familiar, knowing smile.
âwhat?â he asks.
ânothing,â you say. âjust thinking.â
âabout?â
you set down the brush. walk over to the bed. climb on top of him before you can talk yourself out of it, straddling his hips, your hands flat on his chest. he drops his phone immediatelyâ doesnât even look where it landsâ and his hands find your waist like they belong there.
âabout how itâs not normal,â you say quietly, âhow much i want you. all the time. every second.â
his smile softens into something realer. his thumbs trace circles on your hips. âyou think i donât feel the same way?â
âyou canât. itâs not possible.â
âbaby.â he says it with a sigh, like youâve said something both ridiculous and heartbreaking. âi think about you constantly. when iâm training, when iâm on missions, when iâm supposed to be paying attention to anything else. iâve canceled plans just because i got a whiff of your perfume on my jacket and couldnât think about anything except getting home to you.â
you stare at him. âthatâs notâyouâre just saying that.â
âiâm not.â he sits up, and you squeak as he adjusts you both until youâre in his lap, your legs wrapping around his waist automatically. âyou wanna know something embarrassing? the other day, during a briefing with the elders, i had to excuse myself because i got hard just remembering the noise you made when i fucked you against the shower wall.â
âare youâare you serious?â
âthey thought i was sick.â gojoâs grin is sheepish and unrepentant all at once. âmaybe weâre just both insane.â
you bury your face in his neck, half mortified and half wildly, stupidly turned on. his arms come around you, solid and warm, and he rocks you gently, not quite a thrust, just a slow, soothing motion that makes your breath catch.
âsee?â he murmurs into your hair. âthere it is. youâre thinking about it again.â
âyou canât prove that!â
âi donât have to prove it. i can feel it.â his hips press up, just slightly, and you gasp. âyouâre already wet. just from talking about it and sitting in my lap.â
you want to deny it, but your body has never been able to lie to him. not from the very beginning. you feel exposed and seen and loved in a way that should terrify you but doesnât, not anymore.
âwait,â you said, pulling back just enough to look at him. âi needâi need to know. are you really the same? is it really this intense for you too?â
he looked at you for a long moment. then he reached down, took your hand, and pressed it against the front of his pants.
he was hard. straining against the fabric, hot even through his clothes, achingly, obviously hard, inches away from pressing against your core. when you wrap your fingers around him through the thin cotton he hisses through his teeth.
âdoes that answer your question?â he asked, his voice was strained.
âtoru,â you whisper.
âyeah, baby?â
âshut up and fuck me.â
he laughs, bright and delighted, and flips you both over so that youâre pinned beneath him, his weight a comfort. âsee,â he says, ducking his head to kiss the corner of your mouth, âthatâs exactly what iâm talking about. you get it.â
his mouth travels down your bodyâ your jaw, your throat, the hollow between your collarbones. he pushes up your sleep shirt and latches onto your nipple without preamble, and you arch off the bed, a broken sound escaping your lips. his free hand works your shorts down your legs, and then his fingers are back where you need them most, circling, teasing, dipping inside just long enough to make you whine before pulling away.
âso impatient,â he chides, but thereâs no heat in it. his voice is thick with want, with the same desperate need thatâs been coursing through your veins all day. âyouâve been thinking about this since this morning, havenât you? since i kissed you goodbye. i could tell. the way you held onto my shirt a little too long.â
âyes,â you admit, because thereâs no point in lying. âyes, okay? i thought about you all day. i thought about you during my lunch break and i couldnât even eat because i kept remembering the way you taste. i thought about you in the elevator and i had to cross my legs because i was so wet just from thinking about your hands.â
his eyes darken and his breathing becomes heavier with every inhale and exhale. he strokes himself with his fist and your mind generates a picture of you making him cum just by talking to his ear about your filthy thoughts. âk-keep going.â
âi thought about youââ your voice breaks as he pushes inside you, finally, and you forget what you were going to say. all you can do is cling to him, nails digging into his shoulders, as he sets a rhythm thatâs punishing and perfect.
âyou thought about me what?â he prompts, his voice strained now, his composure cracking at the edges. âtell me. i want to hear every dirty thought thatâs been running through that pretty head of yours.â
âi thought about you fucking me in your office,â you gasp at the sharpness of his thrusts. âon your desk. with all those photos of the students on the wall. i thought about whether youâd be quiet or whether youâd let everyone hear what you do to me.â
he groans out a deep, guttural sound, and his pace increases. âfuck. thatâsâthatâs so specific. have you really been thinking about my office?â
âyour chair, too. the big one. i thought about riding you in it while you were supposed to be doing paperwork.â
âiâm never going to get any work done again,â he says, and thereâs something wild in his voice now, something unhinged. âyouâve ruined me. you know that? youâve absolutely ruined me.â
he flips you onto your stomach without pulling out, and the new angle makes you cry out. one of his hands presses between your shoulder blades, holding you down, while the other grips your hip hard enough to bruise. heâs fucking you like he means it, like heâs trying to brand himself onto your very cells, and youâre so close you can taste it.
âcome for me,â he says. âcome on, baby. let go.â
itâs not a gentle thing, your orgasm. it rips through you like a storm, makes you cry out loud and wordless, makes your whole body clench around him so tight he swears. you keep moving through it, keep lifting your hips to meet his, and the overstimulation makes your vision white out at the edges but you donât want to stop, you canât stop, you needâ
âiâve got you,â he mumbles into the skin of your neck. his movements slow momentarily before picking up speed again as he approaches his own climax.
every thrust hits that spot inside you that makes stars burst behind your eyes. his face is buried in your neck, his breath hot and uneven, and heâs saying thingsâ filthy things, sweet things, things that donât make sense anymore because heâs too far gone. one of his hands has slid down your body, fingers pressed against your clit to
âso good,â he gasps. âso fucking good. you feel like heaven. you feel like coming home. iâm not gonna last, baby, iâm sorry, i canâtââ
âthen donât, sato,â you moan, watching him with a dazed look. a satisfied smile curls on your lips as you lift yourself on your elbows to look at him properly. âcome for me. i want to feel it.â
his eyes go wide as he buries himself as deep as he can go and goes rigid above you, and you feel him comeâ the pulsing heat of it, the way his hips stutter and press and hold, the broken sound he makes against your shoulder. it goes on forever, or maybe itâs only a few seconds, but either way youâre right there with him, your second orgasm crashing over you before the first one has fully faded.
for a long moment, neither of you moves. the room is silent except for the sound of your breathing, slowly evening out. eventually, he pulls out and you feel the evidence of what youâve just done dripping down your thigh, and somehow even that makes you want him again.
you lie in the dark with your head on his chest, listening to his heartbeat slow. his fingers trail up and down your spine, lazy and soothing, and you feel the last of the tension drain out of your body.
âhey,â he says quietly.
âmm?â
âi think itâs normal. for us, anyway.â his voice is soft, almost shy, which is such a rare thing from him that you tilt your head up to look at his face. his blindfold is long gone, and his eyes are bare, that impossible blue reflecting the streetlight through the window. âi think when you really love someone, when theyâre really yours, your body just⊠knows. and it wants. and thereâs nothing wrong with that.â
you reach up and touch his cheek. âyou really think so?â
âi know so.â he turns his head to kiss your palm. ânow go to sleep before you get any more ideas. iâm old. i need to recover.â
you laugh, the kind of full-body laugh that makes your ribs ache, and he grins down at you like youâve given him the whole world.
you fall asleep like that, wrapped around each other, your leg thrown over his hip and his hand resting on the small of your back. and if you wake up two hours later with that same familiar heat building in your belly, and if he wakes up too, already hard against your thigh, already reaching for you in the darkâ
well. thatâs just normal. for you two, anyway.
.
.
.
the next morning, you wake to sunlight streaming through the curtains and the smell of coffee. gojo is already up, which is unusualâ heâs typically the one you have to drag out of bed, complaining about how warm you are and how youâre his personal heated blanket and why would he ever want to leave.
you find him in the kitchen, shirtless (of course), making what looks like an unnecessarily elaborate breakfast. thereâs pancake batter everywhere, and heâs wearing some of it on his chest, and you should probably be annoyed but all you can think about is licking it off.
âgood morning, beautiful,â he says without turning around. âi could feel you staring from across the room.â
âi wasnât staring.â
âyou were absolutely staring. donât deny it.â
you walk over to him and wrap your arms around his waist from behind, pressing your face between his shoulder blades. his smell is intoxicating. âi hate you.â
âyou love me.â
âi do,â you admit. âunfortunately. itâs very inconvenient.â
he turns in your arms, flipping the pancake with the shake of the pan (show-off) and cupping your face with the other. âthe feeling is mutual. now sit down and eat. youâre going to need your strength.â
âwhy?â you ask, even though you already know the answer.
his grin is sharp and promising. âbecause as soon as youâre done, iâm taking you back to bed. and iâm not letting you leave it until you canât remember your own name.â
you sit down and eat your pancakes. you do your best to ignore his foot sliding up and down your ankle.
Appreciation post for all the JJK writers getting hate right now
The way some of you have been treating jjk writers lately is so fkn weird and ungrateful⊠like genuinely, what do you gain from tearing apart something people create for free? yâall have gotten way too comfortable being disrespectful. If you donât like something, just leave?
it's no secret ryomen's extremely charming, whether he wants to be or not. handsome, with striking features and a huge, muscular figure that utterly dwarfs yours. there's no way not to be flustered by him. which is why you said yes when he leaned over your table from when he'd randomly sat beside you in a lecture one day, tapped on your notebook with the back of his pen, and casually said; "hey you. gimme your number."
you thought you were having an out of body experience at first, because why you? what about quiet, invisible you caught his attention? but you managed to gather your bearings enough to type it in on his phone. you'd held it just long enough for you to see the overwhelming out of notifications and messages he had, and instantly felt like this were a setup, joke, or he just wanted your notes or something, but he got your name and pinned your contact to the top of his messages, telling you he'd text you tonight.
after a while of texting back and forth, meeting up in class and to get lunch, that feeling never exactly went away. you didn't even know if you and ryomen were well suited, with how little you had in common, but you were having fun and getting attention, and as long as you didn't fall too hard, you'd be fine.
so now you're standing outside your residence building, shifting your weight from one foot to the other with your fingers tugging at your sleeve and your stomach fluttering weirdly. you're overthinking the longer you wait for him, wondering if he'll stand you up on the hangout he invited you on.
but then headlights sweep across the pavement. ryomen doesn't even fully park, he just rolls to a smooth stop in front of you, engine still humming as the window slides down. leaning out of it, he looks you up and down with this smug grin. "damn, look at you."
"hey," you greet weakly, trying not to stare at how big his hands are or the tattoos peeking out from under his shirt. he has a lot of them. and piercings. and.. bright pink hair. quite different from the other frat brothers. maybe that's what drew you to him, that he might have more substance and personality than the kind of guys he likes to hang out with.
he gestures to the door, and you blink at him before realizing you'd just been staring at him like an idiot. you quickly pull the door open to his sleek car, sitting on the leather seat with your hands in your lap. the interior even smells expensive. sharp and clean. you wonder how many girls he's brought in here, and instinctively, you look around for indicators. a hair tie, a press on nail, maybe a false lash strip that came off during a heated act, but you find nothing.
"relax," he mutters, revving the engine just a little to snap you out of your thoughts. "you like the car?"
you nod quickly, admiring the fancy layout. "yeah, it's... it's nice."
his eyes flick to you with amusement, and he looks you up and down, gaze slowing on your glossed lips, before moving back up to your eyes. "nice," he repeats the word. "that's it?"
"i mean like, the uh...the engine sounds really good." you say unsurely, having no idea what you're saying. he's making you restless and warm, and his unwavering stare isn't helping.
there's a pause as he starts to smirk at you, before he huffs out a laugh. "yeah? you know engines now?" he teases, grinning at the way you shrink back and shrug, not really knowing what to say. you don't know cars for shit, and you can't tell if he's flirting with you or if he's trying to make you feel like a dumbass. it could be either, with how smug he looks. the longer you spend time with him the more this starts to feel like a setup. what are you even doing here?
"a little." you mutter.
he hums, not buying your hesitant words, but doesn't call you out. "good," he comments. "means you'll appreciate the ride i'm about to give you." then he pulls the car into drive, taking you off with him.
sukuna has this effortless sort of sexiness, even when doing something as mundane as driving his car. it's just that his biceps bulge when he moves his arms, his hands are tattooed and ring clad and you're drawn to the way he grips the wheel or the stick when he shifts gears, and he does it so lazily, like it's second nature. he can drive while periodically looking over at you. which he does a lot, stare. "you always this quiet?" he asks.
you blink as he addresses you again, and you shrug. "i'm just nervous." you say, regretting it immediately, because he grins. "you're nervous around me? i haven't even done anything to you yet. you the type to freak out if i try to kiss you?
your eyes widen. "you're gonna kiss me?"
his mouth twitches, and he turns into a sideroad, smoothing his tongue over his teeth before speaking again. "i mean, i want to. but i'm not gonna when you're this scared of me."
"i'm not scared of you." you blurt.
"so you wanna kiss me then?" he doesn't look at you this time, eyes on the road, but his voice drops just slightly. your face goes hot, and you look away quickly, staring out the window with your heart suddenly beating way too fast again.
"um... i think so." you say shyly, before looking out at the roads as they turn narrower, winding. then he finally slows the car, turning off onto a dirt path that makes the car rumble softly beneath you.
sukuna stops in a clearing, cutting the engine and allowing silence to pass between the two of you. it's a really quiet and private space with no traffic or voices, just wind through trees.
"where are we?" you ask hesitantly.Â
he doesn't respond, instead getting out and moving around the car to let you out too, unbuckling your seatbelt and offering you his hand, silently asking you to trust him.
unsure, you accept his hand either way and let him position your body in front of him. he tips two fingers under your jaw and guides your head upwards, so your gaze is pointed up to the sky.
you're in a clearing.
there's no trees blocking the sky here, and the open space allows you to see it in a way you've never seen before, scattered with bright stars and stretching endlessly above you.
"woah," you say quietly, admiring the view.
"yeah, woah." he imitates you playfully, stepping back a little to give you breathing room. letting you come back to him if you want him to touch you more. "nice, right? picked it out for you. i've never brought anyone else here, if that's what you're wondering. you can ask my buddies if you don't believe me."
you look back at him, a lot more comfortable now, and offer him a shy smile. "wouldn't they lie for you?"
he imitates your little grin and crosses his arms over his broad chest. "guess you're just going to have to trust me then. and that's worked for you so far, hasn't it?"
you laugh softly, and he huffs, his cheeks flushing now. you can see pink spread across his milky white cheeks. "don't get a big head though. i just wanted to make a good impression. i do have a rep, you know." but now, he's avoiding your eyes.
"i think you're underplaying it a bit." you shrug, your insecurities and worries about him faking this with you or trying to set you up for a prank or dare gone. he's showing his emotions with you quite plainly, getting overwhelmed and shy after taking you out to this special spot in hopes of impressing you.
he glares down at you. "watch it." he warns, but he doesn't sound mad.
grinning, you look back up at the sky. "it's really pretty." you say appreciatively, watching the stars twinkle around the moon.
"yeah," he says. but when you glance at him again, he's not looking at the sky. he's looking at you.
before you can think too hard about it or get stuck in your head, you step closer a little, and his gaze drops to your mouth again. your pulse thrums in your ears. "you're staring," you comment softly, watching as he nears you a little as well. it's happening.
"so are you." he grunts.
you huff, embarrassed he called you out, but he doesn't let you look away. his arms uncurl from around each other, and he cups your face, tilting your chin back toward him. "don't look away," he instructs quietly, his hands warm and gentle for someone as big and intimidating as him.
you can feel the warmth of his hands and the way his thumb brushes lightly against your jaw. "i've been wanting to do this since i first saw you," he says. "being all cute in that lecture."
your stomach flips. "do what?"
this time, he doesn't respond at all. at least, not with words. instead, his mouth meets yours in the softest kiss imaginable, questioning, as he doesn't put much pressure yet, giving you the chance to panic or run away if you want to. or, at the very least, tell him to stop. but instead, even though you're hesitant out of your mind and so much less experienced than him, you accept it warmly, your mouth closing around his perfectly, soft and just right.
melting, your fingers curl into his shirt without you meaning to, and he exhales quietly against your mouth. that's all he needed. one of his hands moves down to hold your waist, and he pulls you a little closer so he can deepen the kiss, perfecting the angle by tilting his head and groaning when your lips mold around his. gosh, you're so soft. and you taste good.
you might just be his dream girl.
though he would love to kiss longer, love to add tongue to see what noises you'd make or how you'd taste with his tongue curled around yours, he backs off slowly, still holding you. he licks some of your gloss off his lips and sighs pleasantly.
"was that okay?" he asks quietly, to which you nod, smiling happily. "yeah, more than okay."
he exhales, relieved. "good. can i do it again then?"
you laugh giddily, raising a brow and tipping your chin up so you can see his eyes better. a little emboldened from the kiss, you tease, "you're asking now?"
his cheeks go pink again and he shakes his head, kissing you to shut you up, but melting when he feels you smile against his mouth.
you spend the rest of the date hanging out under the stars, talking, and cuddling for a bit with your head on his chest, until he sees your eyes start to close. when you doze off, he guides you back into the car and drives you back to your place, making sure you're warm with the heat up and his jacket over you.
at least now that you're asleep you won't be able to see how fucking over the moon he is right now.
sukuna wakes you up only when you arrive, and he offers you his hand after you both exit his car so he can take you all the way up to your dorm. when you're outside, you speak. "thanks, ryo." the nickname comes out against your better judgement, but he straightens up, clearly having enjoyed it. "i had fun."
he nods, sheepish, and shrugs. "don't mention it."
you open the door and smile up at him, then give him a look and ask shyly, "âŠyou're not gonna, like⊠disappear, right?"
The question slips out before you can stop it. he goes still, before speaking seriously."not a chance," he says, low and certain. "you're stuck with me now."
you get a little shy at how intense he sounds.
"you okay with that?"
you nod earnestly, reaching up to give him a quick hug, and stepping on your tiptoes, you place a shy kiss to his mouth, short and sweet, before bidding him goodnight and rushing into your dorm before he can say anymore.
sukuna stands there, staring at the spot you were standing a few seconds ago, his heart pounding in his chest.
you're lucky you left quickly, or he would've pulled you right back and kissed the shit out of you right there.
he walks back to the building elevators with a stupid grin on his face.
your revenge plan of spending all of husband!gojoâs money doesnât work if heâs secretly into it. mdni âą
APPROVED. AUTHORIZED. SALE SUCCESSFUL.
youâve completely abandoned reason when it comes to financial responsibility.
store after store, purchase after purchase. you walk around like the world itself could bend to the whims of the little rectangular piece of plastic youâre clutching in your hand. at this point, youâve treated entire starbucks capacities to a drink, bought extravagant dresses you know youâll never wear, and a hideous bag that was so ridiculously expensive you almost laughed when you saw the price tag.
each time you slide his card across the chip reader, the little burst of dopamine you feel at the replying green ding makes his impending bank statement worth it.
he deserves this, after all. if he could be so aloof as to let your dinner reservation slip his mind, then surely he wouldn't be keen enough to notice a few extra zeroes trailing every purchase, right?
âwould you like a receipt?â the cashier asks politely.
you smile sweetly, âan e-receipt will do, thank you.â
--
back at the apartment, satoruâs laying back against the sectional, his phone rests loosely in his hand, thumb lazily flicking through thread after thread. âhow to apologize to your wife,â âhow to make it up after standing someone up,â âbest apology giftsââ heâs opened so many tabs that at this point theyâve all started blending together into a pitiful reddit concoction within his brain.
heâs just about to click onto another subreddit chain about âapology flowers and their meanings,â when the first notification pops onto the top of his screen.
âa transaction in the amount of $108,923.67 has been detected on your card ending in 8686âŠâ
âhuh..â he scoffs, clicking into the message.
â...this is an automated alert for your awareness. no action is required if you recognize this activity. if you do not recognize this transaction, please contact your financial institution immediately using the number on the back of your card...â
a little inkling tells him that it wasn't exactly a thief attempting to drain his card. unless the thief in question was an infuriatingly sexy woman who gets off on raising his blood pressure. he laxly enters his face ID to authorize his access into the bank app. the purchases, he quickly realizes, are flowing in as fast as a live chat. his blue eyes sharpen slightly as the numbers begin to flow in.
oh.
oh, is this what youâre doing now?
10:53 AM POS purchase - stine goya          -22,193.67
11:12 AM POS purchase - bottega veneta     -19,843.43
11:32 AM POS purchase - loro piana          -28,931.41
11:38 AM POS purchase - starbucks           -6,784.98
his lip quirks up at that last one, leave it up to his girl to manage to drop 7 racks at a coffee shop. more and more purchases are flowing in by the second, some are couple-hundred purchases at cafes, and others ten-grand payments to random ass brands heâs never even heard of. nonetheless, each one sends a little thrill of pleasure up his spine.Â
the next warning text comes in, claiming that he's dropped over a million by this point. the message warns that the card has locked, requiring his verification to prove it wasn't stolen and to therefore unlock it. he clicks onto that message and verifies his identity anyway, because he knows this isn't fraud. no, he knows exactly whoâs behind this, and what kind of husband would he be if he didnât enable his wifeâs unhealthy spending habits?
he leans his head back against the couch, exhaling through his nose as something warm, and dangerously pleased coils in his chest. much to your impending annoyance, each petty charge has served more to arouse him than irritate him.
11:55 AM POS purchase - balenciaga          -47,165.90
âspend it all,â he murmurs to the screen, irregularly pleased for someone actively being robbed. âcâmon babe. donât go soft on me now.â
his hands slowly inch lower into his sweatpants, freeing his cock from the stiff material. he's mindlessly refreshing the page every few seconds, praying for a new purchase statement to come up. every time a new proof of your financial recklessness updates, his dick twitches in his hand.
louis. throb. gucci. throb.
he leans his head back, his breath coming in short gasps as he brings himself closer to the edge. he can feel the heat building up in his core, the familiar tingle in his spine. he's close, so so close, and all it takes is one more purchase to send him over.
12:00 PM POS purchase - tiffany & co. -136,456.23
his back arches, a low intelligible groan along the lines of thatâs my girl escaping his lips as he comes undone. ropes of his translucent cum string over his fist. heâs feeling the tension leave his body after the high, replaced by a warm, satisfied glow. he takes a moment to catch his breath, his eyes still on his phone, then he pulls up your contact.
satoru: hey princess
satoru: don't forget to hit up the bank on the way home, they probably need a massage from all the stress youâve put them through today;)
tojiâs thick arms were always the safest place in the whole world, especially on nights like this when the rain pattered soft against the windows and your little apartment smelled like the takeout heâd brought home just for you.
except now the food was long gone and his thick, calloused fingers were knuckle-deep in your fluttering cunt, carving you open with that lazy, practiced curl that always made your toes curl up in your socks.
youâd already cum three times for himâ once on his tongue, twice on those beefy digitsâbut the he wasnât done playing with his favorite toy. not even close. his free hand pinned your squirmy hips down to the sheets, soaked mostly with sweat, keeping you right where he wanted you while his thumb circled your swollen clit like he owned it.
which, as far as he was concerned, he did.
âopen your eyes, baby,â he rumbled low, voice all gravel and smoke, lips curled in that smug smirk that made your tummy flutter as he leaned down to kiss sloppily all around your heat. âmade ya cum three times already and youâre still clenching around my fingers like you need more. pretty girl wants it real bad tonight, huh?â
you whimpered, all soft and broken, thighs twitching helplessly around his thick wrist. your thin nightgown was bunched up around your waist, tits spilling out the top where he tugged the straps down, nipples pebbled and shiny from where heâd sucked them raw earlier.
his frame loomed over you when he sat upâbroad shoulders flexing and muscles rippling and glistening with a light sheen of sweat, that black hair falling messy over his sharp green eyes.
âp-please, toji,â you hiccuped, voice all high and shaky, hips trying to chase the pressure building deeeep in your belly.
your puffy lips glistened, slick dripping down to your ass and puddling beneath you, but he just kept pumping, scissoring, rubbing that spongy spot inside you over and over until your eyes rolled back.
âiâ âs too much i-i canâtââ
âshhh, easy, dollface,â he cooed, deceptively sweet, but his fingers never slowed.
he leaned down, hot breath fanning over your clit as he spat right onto it, rubbing it in with his thumb. âyouâre gonna gush for me like a good girl, yeah? uh huh, just like weâve been practicing all this time. make a mess of these sheets so i can lick it up after.â
your back arched clean off the bed when he added a third finger, stretching you until you cried out again. the wet, obscene squelch of your messy hole filled the room, syncing with the creak of the bedframe under his weight as he shifted to sit back on his heels.
his free hand slid up your tummy, pressing down firmly right below your belly button, and oh godâ that pressure, squeezing the orgasm right out of you.
âa-ah, itâs.. âm gonnaââ your voice cracked into a squeak, that deep, bladder-tight ache making it difficult to stay still. your thighs spasmed, little tremors racing up your spine and making you jolt.
âthatâs it, babygirl. let it happen. squirt for this old man like the pretty little fountain you are,â he bit back a groan, fingers curling harder, faster, thumb flicking your clit in tight, mean circles, eyes locked onto where his hand was working eagerly.
âcâmon, baby, soak me. i know you can, just give it to me.â
you tried to hold it, wanting to prolong the feeling of being on the edge, but toji knew your body better than you did. he pressed down on your tummy again, leaned in to suck your clit between his lips with a wet pop, teeth grazing, and that was all it took.
your whole body seized up, vision whiting out as the orgasm ripped out of you.
you squirted hard, hot, clear liquid gushing out around his fingers in pulsing spurts. it sprayed across his forearm and jaw as he pulled his face away to watch, soaked the sheets in a big shiny puddle, somehow even splashed up onto his scarred chest.
the sound was so lewd, wet and messy, your pussy fluttering and gushing endlessly like it was trying to push his hand out and pull it back in all at once.
âfuuuuck yeah, there she is,â toji groaned, not stopping, just slowing his fingers to milk every last drop from you.
âlook at my messy baby makinâ such a big, pretty puddle. good girl, such a good fuckinâ girlâkeep squirting, doll, âm not done yet.â
you were crying by now, soft little sobs mixing with moans as the aftershocks rolled through you, each one forcing another weak spurt of slick from your overworked cunt. your legs were jelly, spread wide and trembling, and it wasnât until your hips started pulling away from overstimulation that toji finally eased his fingers out with a wet pop, bringing them to his mouth to lick them clean like he was tasting the sweetest candy.
âmmh. taste like candy, baby,â he murmured, eyes half-lidded with pure satisfaction.
he crawled up your body, that massive, beefy frame caging you in, breathing you in.
âthree orgasms, one big squirt.. and youâre still looking at me with those big, sad eyes? you want more, donâtcha?â
he kissed your forehead, deceptively gentle, then nipped at your bottom lip with a grin.
âdonât worry, baby. iâm just getting started. think you could do it again? wanna feel her squirt around my cock.â
đđ tojiâs favorite way to finish? with you trembling on his tongue and him falling apart at the same time . . .
( mdni. cw: face-sitting, masturbation, cumplay )
âtoji- mmf- fuck, your tongueâs so good, baby, donât stop, please, you eat me so fucking goodââ
your voice breaks, hips twitching, thighs quivering around his face, but he doesnât let up for a secondâ not when youâre makinâ all those pretty little noises just for him. your fingers are buried in his hair, clutching like you need him more than air. youâve been grinding on his face for the last ten minutes and he hasnât once come up for breath.
to put it lightly, tojiâs obsessed. itâs honestly a little scary how far gone he is for the taste of you, how shameless heâs become. he used to have self-control. used to be selective. now heâll drop to his knees the second you so much as tug on his shirt, nearly foaming at the mouth just from the sight of your panties alone.
âyouâre gonna fucking suffocate,â you whimper, trying to lift yourself up, but his arms tighten around your thighs.
âshut up,â he growls, voice muffled beneath you. âsit on my face like a good girl.â
his tone makes your toes curl. itâs nasty. rough and mean, like he gets pissed off each time you try to stop him from drowning in your pussy. he doesnât just want to eat you outâ he wants to live there. wants to keep you perched on his face for hours, wants his nose stuffed between your folds and his tongue lapping at your clit until youâre reduced to nothing but a crying, overstimulated mess.
you feel it when he moans against you, deep and desperate, itâs obvious heâs getting just as much out of this as you are. your gaze flicks down and sure enoughâŠ
âtoji,â you gasp, wide-eyed.
heâs got his hand down his sweats, big fist pumping his cock in slow, lazy strokes, precum dribbling down his knuckles. heâs jerking himself off while eating you out. not touching you anywhere else. just licking, sucking, flicking his tongue over your clit with single-minded focusâ and cumming from it.
âfuck, baby,â he groans, words slurring a little from how dazed he is. âyouâre all i want. this pretty cunt, this taste, this fuckinâ mess- you got me hooked, yâknow that?â
your mouth drops open at the wet smack of his lips against your clit. heâs licking with reckless abandon now, drunk off your taste, groaning into your folds while rutting into his own fist, and thenâ
âfuckfuck, baby- fuckââ his hips jerk, and his hand speeds up, strokes growing erratic, and then heâs panting hard against your pussy, letting out a guttural moan as he cums all over himself.
thick, milky spurts paint his abs, drip down his fingers, and heâs still licking you. still fucking moaning against your clit like itâs the best orgasm heâs ever had.
your whole body trembles as the aftershocks of your own orgasm ripple through you. youâre breathing heavy, thighs sticky with his spit, but he doesnât move. doesnât even think of slowing down.
âtoji,â you whimper again, hips jolting. âyou- jesus, you just came.â
he grins, dark and sloppy, lips glossy with your slick. âso?â he shrugs, fingers still slick around his cock. âtold you. i get off on this pussy, baby. donât even need you to touch me.â
your cheeks burn. your stomach flips. and then youâre sliding down his body, soft hands ghosting over the creamy mess between his thighs. he watches youâ eyes hooded, chest still rising and falling as he lies there, spread out like heâs just won the fucking lottery.
âlemme clean you up,â you murmur sweetly, voice thick with arousal and affection.
he groans, cock twitching again.
âfuck, princess,â he breathes. âyouâre gonna kill me.â
you donât answer. just lower your head with a wicked little smile, tongue flicking out to taste him like he did youâ slow and indulgent. messy, eager, loving every second of it.
because if heâs gonna be a pussydrunk pervert, youâre gonna be his matching little cum-crazed freak.
and your boyfriend wouldnât have it any other way.
you were minding your own business, prancing around your apartment, cleaning up the mess while reorganising everything you saw fit, and you only momentarily bent over to pick up the papers placed on your floor right beforeâ
smack!!
your perverted mess of a boyfriend found your ass almost instantly, your poor butt red and stinging from where his palm had just slapped itâyou swore he was in another room before this, completely out of your reach, but the second your ass was up in the air it was like free reign to him.
âtoji! where the fuck did you come from?!â
âseriously doll? thatâs how you greet your boyfriend?â he said while sporting a stupidly smug pout on his face, trying his best to jut out his bottom lip and look innocent in the scene of the crime.
âyouâre a gremlin.â
âa gremlin whoâs very much in love with your ass.â
you roll your eyes at him moving along. but this was just routine to himâthe second your hips tilted in the slightest, he was right behind you, his massive palm smacking the curve of your butt every single opportunity he saw fit.
you practically yelped and jumped into the air a little each time, and all it did was have him giggle like a teenager before walking away from you.
his arms always found the curve of ass no matter whatâalways kneading the flesh of your thighs and butt every opportunity he was given. every cuddle session ending in him poking your butt until you were giggling against his chest.
you always just let him have itânot this time though.
but right as he was walking away, you paced behind him, angling your hand to perfection beforeâ
smack!
you hit him square on his ass, watching the flesh recoil a little with your hit and you instantly understood why toji did it so often.
âgah dayum how long have you been hiding that from me?â you said whistling while ogling at your own boyfriendâs butt.
he yelped like a surprised dog, his face tinged pink while he almost squealed at the sharp pain spreading through his cheeks.
ânever do that again.â
âit jiggles. toji why did you never tell me it jiggles.â you say making a grabbing motion before he backs away from you.
âyouâre worse than i am.â he says almost afraid.
âdamn straight i am.â is all you said before trying to chase him around the house while this comically large man tried to hide behind your couch to escape his fate.
this is silly @yoonsucks hehe
all work belongs to @liliklei , do not copy, repost, translate or feed into AI !!
it wasnât that you were fragile. it was more than you have already withstood a lot in life. the last thing you needed was to be uncomfortable in your own relationship, or have to tolerate something that may hurt your feelings.
you wanted the soft kind of love. the type where he stared at you softly with dreamy eyes, the type where he would carry you if your feet hurt, the type where he would cry if he was ever accidentally mean to youâ the type where he loved you devotedly and gently.
you always made it clear, you wanted gentle love.
which was why it left everyone flabbergasted when you and sukuna ended up together.
everyone didnât understand. did you end up abandoning your own boundaries? after all, sukuna was known to be a loud, short-tempered asshole with little to no manners. he was mean, rude, cockyâ everything you were not looking for.
if only they saw how the loud, scary sukuna was with you.
you had a full day of back-to-back lectures. the idea od having to stay awake in classes and take notes from 8:30 am to 5:30 pm was already ruining your morning, especially when you had fallen asleep too late the night before, and woke up too late to grab breakfast.
by the time it was 12, you were already exhausted. you were stuck in the part of the campus with no signal, your phone was dying, and you felt like you were going to cry at the thought of continuing the rest of the day like that.
you were hungry. and tired. and sleepy. andâ
warm arms gently wrapped around you, pulling you gently to a firm body, the smell too familiar for you to be alarmed. your eyes softened in confusion as you glanced up, meeting concerned red eyes.
âyou donât have classes today.â you mumbled tiredly, leaning into his touch, eyes briefly fluttering shut. he practically held your weight up, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead before he let go of you and grabbed your bag with a huff.
âi donât.â he grunted, holding out a thermal cup and a brown paper bag you hadnât noticed he was holding. you blinked dumbly. his lips twitched. âfor you, sweetheart.â
âoh.â you mumbled, accepting them. âoh. is thisââ
âyour usual order.â he confirmed, nonchalant. âwhat lecture do we have now?â
âwe?â you furrowed your eyebrows, exhausted and confused. âweâre not even in the same majorâ kuna, go home.â
âwe.â he repeated, insistent, unfazed. he looked intimidating, especially with a frown pulling on his lips when he noticed your dark eye bags, but his eyes were soft. âyou slept late last night?â
you hummed, giving up too easily at convincing him to go home, already walking to your next lecture. he followed, gently taking the thermal cup before you could ask, leaving your hands free to quickly eat before you reach the room.
âyou have that party tonight, right?â you mumbled once you were done eating, throwing the bag away. he hummed, handing you the cup back, eyes fully focused on you. his frown deepened, and you sighed. âdonât say you wonât go. you havenât went out with your friends in ages.â
he scoffed, now scowling. âwhy the fuck would i go out with them when i can stay home with you, especially with you tired and exhausted?â
âgo out.â you insisted. he opened his mouth to argue, and you met his eyes, a sad pout pulling on your lips. âplease. i donât want to take you from your boys, and i wouldnât be saying this if i knew you wouldnât have fun.â
his eyes softened. his frown was back, but his free arm gently wrapped around your waist once more. âyou know you can get me to do absolutely anything with that look, right?â he muttered, sighing loudly. at your small smile, his trademark smirk was finally making an appearance, despite his attempt to hide it to continue pretending to be annoyed, tugging you closer. âpure magic.â
by the time sukuna had driven you home and walked you in, you felt like you were about to collapse. the day had affected your mood, especially with you being too tired to focus or even write (sukunaâs hand writing was now gracing your notebook) and feeling absolutely stupid for not being able to grasp basic concepts. it didnât help that you were hungry, and too lazy to cook or even pick up your phone to order.
and your boyfriend was at a party you forced him to go to.
before you realized it, you were on the couch, face buried into the cushions, tears soaking the fabric. you werenât even sobbing, too tired to reach that point, just sadly letting tears drop and waiting for the horrible feeling in your stomach to fade.
you hadnât even realized you had dozed off.
not until you were gently woken up by warm fingers gently swiping the remained of your tears away. your eyes gently fluttered open, and met red eyes, worried and angry. sukuna was kneeling beside the couch, his eyebrows furrowed, body tense. you blinked once, twice, and leaned softly into his touch, eyes fluttering shut sleepily. âmhm⊠youâre back?â
âyeah,â he grunted, arms adjusting you so youâre sitting up, a blanket being thrown on you before youâre gently yet firmly tucked in. âtoo fucking late, apparently. stay awake.â
with that, heâs walking into the kitchen, leaving you alone again. you blinked sleepily, staring into space, too distracted by how badly you need to sleep to even think. the smell of delicious food begins to fill the room, and your stomach growled loudly just as sukuna walks in, carrying a bowl.
âoh.â you mumbled slowly. âfood.â
âyeah, food.â he nodded, almost amused, but his eyes were still concerned. âopen up.â
you opened your mouth sleepily. throughout the meal, sukuna kept having to wake you up to remind you to chew and swallow, before gently feeding you once more. by the time the bowl was done, you were snoring softly on his shoulder, enjoying the warmth of his body.
when you woke up, you were being tucked in bed, now in comfortable pajamas (his shirt and shorts). you shifted with an embarrassing whine at the idea of being awake, and his sharp laugh echoed, clear of mocking and embarrassment, just pure amusement as he leaned down to kiss your forehead.
âgives me fucking cuteness aggression.â he mumbled, cupping your cheek. you were out like a light, snores echoing softly again, already starting to drool. his grin widened. âgonna fucking marry you.â
ââŠmhmâŠ?â
ânothing, baby. goodnight.â
(a/n ok i admit i botched his character this time u guys can call him ooc </3 disadvantages of never actually reading/watching jjk⊠ill get better soon trusttt)
sukuna spent most of his exhausting workday getting bugged and fixing other people's problems.
after being in a meeting that could've, no, should've been an email, he quickly pulls out his phone and texts his boyfriend:
'had a shitty day at work, be ready when i get home.'
now, both men are completely naked. lights low with soft music playing in the background.
sukuna's standing up, looking down at his pretty boy. toji is on his knees, eyes watering while making eye contact with the older man. his mouth full of cock.
the two of them get off on seeing how long toji can hold all of sukuna in his mouth.
kuna takes a fistful of toji's hair and uses it to move toji's mouth back and forth on his cock. tojiâs hands claw at sukuna's thick thighs, his nails leaving indentations. it's been hours of him swallowing as much cum as kuna could give him.
sukuna brings toji closer; his nose touches kunaâs lower stomach. then, to give toji a challenge, he holds the back of his head in place so toji can't back away.
he starts to gag, making sukuna tilt his head, wondering when his boyfriend will tap out. but to sukuna's surprise...he doesn't.
"f-fuck 'jiji, you taking this shit like a champ," he moans out, voice deep. "you wanna stay here forever, don't you?"
suddenly, sukuna pulls toji off his dick with a popping sound. the younger man's eyes glisten. his face is wet and covered in cum as saliva drips from his mouth onto the floor.
sukuna looks down, eyes completely laced with hunger. toji, already knowing whatâs coming, opens his mouth and sticks his tongue out. a smirk creeps across sukunaâs face as he leans down to spit into his mouth.
Warnings: NSFWđ, inmate!Sukuna, anal sex, reader is Sukunaâs prison bitch, he uses you like a toy, reader is a fem woman disguised as a man in prison, power play, dub con-ish (heâs quite rough), overstimulation, idk this is a very long fic
The guard guiding you to your cell snorts when you ask if youâll have your own space. You canât exactly explain to him that youâre a woman disguised as a man and need your privacy. Perhaps youâre in over your head.
You gulp as you peek around the loud prison. Large men stare as you pass by. Itâs clear theyâve made this place like home, clothes lines full of laundry, some playing card games, comfy slippers, lounging on the tables or mingling about.
âHere you are,â the guard stops in front of an open cell, rolling out his hand, âyour penthouse suite.â
It looks like a stale dorm room for the most part. Two metal single beds, a metal toilet, two desks. And zero privacy.
Your supposed cellmate is doing pull ups on a makeshift bar in the middle of the room. His large bare, tatted back faces you, bulging arms, baggy sweatpants, and a head of pure pink hair. Heâs grunting with every pull up, but they still seem chillingly effortless.
The guard leans his shoulder against the doorway. âRyomen,â he whistles loudly as if to get a bullâs attention. âGot a new friend for you.â
Your eyes flick from the amused guard to your new âfriendâ who gets one last pull-up in before dropping two socked feet to the ground with a grunt. You swear the fucking ground rumbles. He turns towards you and your knees wobble as his shadow over takes you.
Red eyes. Half of his face is mutilated, marred by a fire from long ago, you can surmise. His face tattoos match his body. Heâs tall, you wouldnât even be able to reach the height of his makeshift pull-up bar on the tips of your toes.
You stiffen as he sizes you up like the other inmates did on your way in. You hope you wrapped your chest tight enough. A woman in an all male prison? Not a good idea for too many reasons.
âHiââ you clear your throat of the high pitched tone, adopting a fake, deeper one, âHey, bro. Itâs uhâ cool to meet youâ or whatever.â
You could slap yourself. Who are you kidding? You donât know how to talk like a guy. You should have told Gojo âNo, no amount of money would make me spend a year in a male prison.â You shouldnât have drank so much and stupidly agreed that night at the bar, because now, the best case scenario here is that the guard takes you away and they throw the real you into a womenâs prison for trying to âfool the system.â
The man takes a step forward, and youâre already tensing for a blowâ but he just shoulder checks you on the way out. You stumble a little, immediately going to rub your shoulder.
The guard looks properly amused, holding back a laugh. âHere,â he kicks off the wall, pushing some supplies into your arms. Another guard must have handed these over to him as you greeted your cellmate.
âHave fun,â he makes his brows jump and moseys away.
You deeply exhale through the nerves in your chest, walking towards your bed, if you can even call it that. You drop the supplies onto the thin mattress. Sheets, blanket, toothbrush, etc.
Youâve never been one to pray, but youâre considering it right about now. You shake your head and give yourself something to do: put on your sheets, organize the few toiletries you have on your desk.
After fifteen minutes, some kind of bell rings through the prison and you watch inmates filter out of their cells.
You stand and lean out of the cell curiously. You catch one of them muttering about âgreen beansâ and you realize itâs dinner time.
You enter the crowded mess hall and youâre immediately overwhelmed, clattering trays and chaos. The smell of old meatloaf and sweaty man fills the room.
You keep your head down as you get in line, adopting a slight slouch in hopes to avoid accidental eye contact that could be perceived as a threat. The second youâre pulled into something like a violent altercation, youâll likely be exposed as a woman quite fast.
Dinner is slop with a side of slop on a metal tray, and youâre realizing why Gojo wanted to avoid this place so adamantly. A fucking paid vacation, heâd said.
You scan the mess hall with the tray in your hands, heart racing.
You spot two guards leaning against the entrance, watching you with amusementâ like theyâre waiting to see what happens to you, who will pick the runt of the litter. Youâre the entertainment. You must look like a little meek boy, shaking in your boots.
Itâs packed. Big men in little stools. It reminds you of highschool clicks but worse. You spot your pink haired cellmate, sat alone at the only empty table, but one mean glance up with those red eyes and youâre searching elsewhere.
âWho do we have here?â A deep voice sings as a heavy arm drops around your shoulders.
You glance up at him to see a blue haired man with scars all over his body, like heâd previously had poorly done stitches. He smiles at you with dead eyes.
Some of his friends surround the two of you, bored and idleâ but their bulky presence only makes you nervous.
âNeed somewhere to sit?â he hums tauntingly, tilting his head down to your level. âMy nameâs Mahito.â
âOh, Iââ
âShhh little pet, Iâve got you now. Iâll take you under my wing! You donât even have to thank me or anything.â His smile makes your spine tense with chills as he moves to stand in front of you.
Do you have another choice? Youâre afraid of offending him and his scary friends if you decline.
Mahito continues, as if your acceptance is a given. âLetâs just get some things straight beforeââ
Heâs interrupted by a large fist slamming into his jaw, knocking him right off his feet and onto his ass. Your hands tense around your tray, eyes wide as your gaze snaps to see who just punched Mahito into a limp, dream state.
Itâs your pink haired cellmate, looking down at his victim while ringing out his fist like itâs just another Tuesday.
Fights must be common around here, because when you look around, no one seems surprised. Most of the men just mind their business and continue eating their food. Even the two guards are whistling, turning the other cheek.
You gulp. Mahitoâs friends donât even try to defend him, they just back awayâ like hyenas in the presence of a lion. You hear one of them mutter a name, âSukuna.â
You wonder if anyone is even going to bring Mahito to the infirmary, but when Sukunaâs roaming gaze sweeps over you, all thoughts freeze in fear.
You hold his gaze a beat too long, unsure, until you see a flicker in his expression, a subtle tightening of the corner of his eyes. In a breath, you fold inward, chin dipping down to your chest in retreat.
He breaks the tension first, adjusting his neck as he turns away. He settles back into his seat with his meal, relaxed and borderline bored.
You have no clue what his intentions are, or what saving you signifies. Regardless, youâre relived to not sit with Mahito.
With no other option, you inch your way over to the only empty table where Sukuna sits. He remains focused on his food, ignoring your presence completely as you sit as far away as possibleâ on the literal side edge of the seat.
You cautiously take a bite, peeking at him defensively, but he remains indifferent.
__________________
Lights out, 9:10 pm.
You lay in your uncomfortable little bed, staring at the dirty ceiling. The cell door clanged shut at exactly 9 pm and when the guard made his final round, flashlight shining through the corridorâ he passed by with a slow, deliberate glance followed by a wink that made you feel uncomfortable.
You canât sleep, tossing and turning for 10 minutes. You shift on your side, unable to lay in one position for longer than two minutes due to this stone of a mattress.
âQuit. Moving.â
You freeze at the demand coming from your cellmate, who probably hasnât been able to sleep with all of your loud movement.
âSorry,â you chirp quietly, pressing your lips together between your teeth.
He exhales, deeply. You peek at him and heâs facing the opposite wall, naked back towards you.
You donât know prison etiquette, are you meant to do something specific if someone saves you from a group of scary individuals like he did earlier? Maybe give him half of your lunch from now on or heâll take you into the back and beat the teeth out of you?
âUm,â you whisper, practicing your âboyâ voice.
You feel the energy in the room shift, like when you were a child sharing a bunk with your sibling and youâd start spouting nonsense to each other after 3am.
âThank you.â
You feel relief when a silent moment passes, maybe heâs asleep and didnât hear you, because now that youâve actually said it, you regret it. How stupid and naive could you be? You reckon gratitude like this may not apply in prison.
He grunts as he adjusts his position, and you cringe at the ceiling, subtly inching your thin blanket up to your chin. Oh. He definitely heard you.
You nod off after too many minutes of silence and you wake in the morning to the sound of the breakfast bell. You all but squeal opening your eyes to see your sweaty cellmate looming over your bed.
You quickly clear your throat, sitting up and glancing around at your surroundings. You kick your âboyâ voice up, trying to recover from your girly scream. âMorning.â
He throws a small towel over his shoulder and walks off, unbothered by the strangeness of standing over someoneâs bed before theyâve even awoken.
Your breast wraps are still in tact when you peek down under your shirt, so you donât think he saw anything he wasnât supposed to.
Breakfast is uneventful, thankfully. Mahito, who has fresh dark bruises along his face, doesnât even look your way. You sit alone at Sukunaâs table, the same acceptable distance as before.
Things are just okay, you think.
That is, apart from the whole using the bathroom thing. Youâve been putting it off. But, itâs unavoidable.
After breakfast, you peek into your cell where the shared toilet is, only to see Sukuna casually reading a scroll with one hand and doing one armed push ups with the other. The image of using the toilet in here makes your face sour. Thatâd be a type of humiliation youâd rather avoid, and thatâs not even accounting for keeping your gender a secret.
Instead, you settle for the shared bathrooms connected to the showers in one large tiled, communal room.
Standing in front of the toilet stall, you curse Gojoâs entire family line. Because of course the stalls donât have doors. Somewhere far away, Gojo suddenly feels shivers race down his spine in the middle of his little mochi date.
Apart from the unsettling experience of using the bathroom surrounded by large men shaving and brushing their teeth, you overheard interesting information as you did your business. You had to translate male prison gossip lingo, but apparently Sukuna and Mahitoâs little altercation yesterday wasnât random.
They have history. Something about âdaring to touching his soulâ â whatever that means. You think soul is code for a drug supply, maybe.
Yesterdayâs incident was a âcheckingâ as your fellow inmates say. Mahito was trying to force you, someone weak and new, into his group, which made him look strong among the lower ranks. But when Sukuna stepped in, punching his lights out in front of everyone, it was a show of power.
Mahito dominates people like you, small and submissive by nature, to stay on top, but Sukuna operates on a whole nother level. In that simple act, he showed everyone that youâre on the bottom, people like Mahito are in the middle, and Sukuna reigns on top.
Youâre already cringing at your naivety thanking him last night, like he was some knight in shining armor.
Once you get back to your cell, Sukunaâs still reading, this time, sat on his bed all glistening with sweat having finished his workout.
You ignore your nerves walking past him to sit on your own bed with your back against the wall.
Youâd scored a notebook and pen from the recreation room, and begin idly drawing the time away. Seeing how heâs the only thing there is to draw in this place, you start sketching Sukunaâs profile.
His nose is particularly a unique shape, reminiscent of the Greek God statues. You glance up for the millionth time to get the particular slope of his bridge committed to memory, and startle to see him looking back at you with a glare.
You slouch into yourself, your face growing hot having been caught staring and you force your eyes back down.
âYou keep thinking youâre allowed to do that.â
Your heart rate kicks up at his scary gravelly tone, like a demon having come back to life in the form of his vocal cords. You naively thought he didnât notice your glances, since he never even spared you a look.
âSorry,â you mutter quietly.
âLook at me,â he demands in a way that you wouldnât dare consider disobeying. Fuck. You were hoping heâd just let it be.
You clench your eyes shut for a brief moment, squeezing your pen in your palm before slowly sitting up and peering at him.
âPitiful. Truly.â He scoffs, looking at your entire form with disgust. âDo you have no honor? Stand.â
You hesitate, gaze flicking, feeling like youâre playing a game of simon says.
âI said,â his tone rumbles as he moves to sit at the edge of his bed, chin resting on his fist, âstand.â
A passing inmate side eyes your open cell, but he minds his business as if it holds a sleeping monster within.
You gently toss your notebook to the side and your brows twitch as you push yourself up to stand, socked feet meeting the cold floor.
You arenât even sure if youâre meant to be looking at him still, gaze uncertain.
âNow kneel.â
A flashback of how hard Sukunaâs fist met the bone of Mahitoâs jaw makes you slowly bend and drop to your knees.
You spot a flicker of satisfaction in his eyes before a judgmental expression takes over, like your obedience is simultaneously sickening and mandatory to him.
âYou hold your head quite high,â he hints at your lack of respect, and if putting your forehead on the dirty floor is all he makes you do for disrespectfully staring, youâd probably be lucky.
Your brows pinch in a pout, grossed out with the prospect of it but still, you inch your head down.
âGood,â he drawls the word out with a whispery rasp, âGo on. All the way down.â
Once youâre in a fully seated bow, like a servant in the old ages, he exhales slow and deep. Cathartically.
A long moment passes with his red eyes on the back of your head. The floor smells like dirt and a trace of bleach. Youâre completely vulnerable in his position, with the back of your neck exposed and blinded.
Honestly, youâre wondering if Sukuna is still there. Itâs so quiet, all you can hear is the subtle mumble of the others outside of the cell in the main area and the tick of the clock.
You prepare to speak by taking in a small breath, and thatâs all it takes for Sukuna to snap at you.
âDid I say you could speak?â
You gulp.
âYouâre new,â he complains, âThe next time you disobey me, you wonât enjoy what I do.â
You hear the bed creak from him standing, but he doesnât take a step in any direction. Just stands above you.
âLick the floor.â
Your lips part in shock, blinking at the floor in confusion. You canât even begin to imagine the disgusting things that line this floor after decades of men coming in and out. Youâve seen the guy who cleans the floors, heâs blindâ literally. Humiliation is the only benefit to making someone do something like this, to knock them back into their place. You donât have another choice.
âShow me,â he snaps, making you flinch. âYour tongue.â
Fuck this place, you obey. Slip your tongue out and slide it against the floor, eyes clenched shut to cope with the taste of everything horrible and bitter.
Pushing your palms to the floor, you lift your head, giving him the pathetic display of your twitching tongue.
The light above haloâs his pink head like a dark angel, and you see his lips curl into a diabolical smile. Pleased with your submission.
He squats, lining his mouth to your earâ not touching, but close enough to hear. âThe hell are you looking at?â
Your eyes clench shut as fast as his words come out and you almost flinch when you feel the tip of his finger brush against your clavicle. Your breast wrap is right thereânot impossibly close, but too close for comfort. Itâs like heâs bringing attention to how frail your bones are, brushing the bone so lightly.
âSpeak.â
âYouâ Iâm sorry,â is all you know to spit out around the taste of the bitter floor in your mouth.
He tuts like your answer is just average, a boring C- at best. It seems to be all you know how to say, that and thank you.
âI donât want troubleâ I didnât know I couldnât look at you,â you stupidly explain.
âHave a little crush on me?â
You gulp, shaking your head. âN-No.â
He stands. âWhy are you here?â
âBecause you told me toââ your uncertain gaze flicks around his face but never connects to his eyes.
He interrupts you, repeating himself in a rougher tone, âWhy are you here?â
You realize heâs asking why you were locked up.
âSpeak. My impatience is not passive youâll soon find out,â he snaps at you when you donât immediately answer.
âIâ I lost a bet. I needed money.â Technically not a lie, but you can see how your words imply that you robbed someone or something.
He uses a socked foot to nudge at your tummy, and you tense, praying he doesnât lift it or lower it in either direction.
Youâre bracing for a kick, a shove, something. Instead, he simply runs his foot down your abdomen until his toes brush the clothed skin above your pussy. You shiver in anticipated worry, looking up at him through your lashes like heâs a god given the right to deciding your fate.
Just when you think this is it, heâs going to push just an inch lower and notice your lack of dickâ he loudly sniffles and walks out like nothing happened.
________________
Later, 11:25 am.
Your one reprieve after your humiliating morning is the library. Everyone has a job in prisonâ a 0.25$ paying jobâ but itâs better than nothing. Youâd been lucky to land a job sorting books. Pushing a little cart around, organizing the collection of educational texts, self-help, religious, even things like the hunger gamesâ it was nice.
That is, until your heart drops down to your ass when Sukuna pushes you against the shelf, chest pressing into your back.
You gasp, dropping the book in your grasp. Your mind immediately flicks to movies youâve seen, involving a homemade shiv and a lot of blood, people who have nothing to lose and kill just for the hell of it. Youâre an easy target too, smaller than the rest.
âYouâre welcome,â he says casually into your ear. Heâs not even pushing into you in an overtly sexual manner, just pinning you to the shelves.
You knew he was awake last night. But, he definitely didnât intentionally protect you from Mahito, no, it had nothing to do with you. Heâs taunting you.
You let out a shaky breath, daring to speak just above a whisper. âFâfor what?â
âThis is how itâs going to work,â he explains, hard hand gripping the back of your neck, âIâm going to fuck your ass, use you until that gratitude dries up and in returnâ no one will touch you.â
Oh shit. Your face pales. Heâs explaining the concept of being a âbitchâ to you because itâs your first time in prison. Was it that obvious? (Yes.)
You let out a fearful whine under your breath, so quiet, but being so close, he hears it.
âWhatâs wrong? Thought you wanted to thank me,â he mocks you, hot breath fanning your ear. Maybe in another universe, youâd beg the domineering man fuck youâ as you. But if you want your gender to remain a secret in here, you have no choice but to get out of this.
âIâ but,â You grip the shelf harshly, thinking of any excuse, âIâm a virgin!â
A pause. Did that actually work? Youâre not an actual virgin, but youâve never done analâ technically not a lie.
Your bated breath halts when he lets out a boisterous laugh. âOh?â he drawls like a king on a throne.
You can almost guarantee he feels your heart thumping through your fucking back.
âYouâre just a hole. Meant for use. Doesnât matter to me, I truly donât care.â
âIâ please, I canât do that for you. I want toâ I really want to! But I canât,â you breathe, hoping you havenât offended his egoâ which you assume is larger than this building. You want to be able to say yes, just so that you donât have a target on your back.
âTch,â he clicks in distaste, âI wonât injure you. Is that enough to address your concerns?â You think he mutters a âloserâ under his breath but you arenât sure.
The fact that heâs even trying to quell your fears is surprising, and gives you a spec of hope. It also allows you to consider the idea of what his protection in exchange would mean. Everyone clearly fears Sukuna, youâd get through this year untouchedâ aside from the obvious.
âUhâuhm,â you gulp, side glancing back at him as much as his grip will allow. âIâm insecure about uh.. my dick.â
His brows lower into a furrow, looking at you with judgement. âFine,â he rolls his eyes, âyour little cock wonât come out of its confines. Satisfied?â
Are you actually going to do this? Can you even pull this off? The fact that this man even wants to fuck you in the first place is completely out of the blue. You knew things like this happened in here, but from this guy?
You shift. âWhy do you want thisâ with me?â
âIâm not gay,â he scoffs, âFool. I simply need a flesh light.â
âOh, and,â he pushes his nose into your head, behind your ear, and sniffs, âyou smell nice, like a woman.â
You shiver. Itâs horrifying that he can actually smell that on you without knowing it.
âDeal?â
You clench your eyes shut and nod.
He finally pushes off of you and mutters a âgoodâ before walking away and out of the library.
___________
Youâve never been one for the concept of anal. Youâd glare whenever a boyfriend would even bring it up. Itâs always felt inconsiderate, like youâre just being used when a more pleasurable hole is right there. Youâre kind of nervous, but part of you is relieved.
Since you made the deal, Sukuna has âclaimedâ you. He makes you grab his meals for him, sit across from him in the cafeteria, visible signs of ownership. The other inmates avoid you completely; even a minor bump into your shoulder in passing earns an apology. Youâre his now, and everyone knows it. Off limits.
As for your end of the deal, you arenât sure when Sukuna is going to be in the mood to fuck. Youâve been stealing peeks at him, watching too closely, hoping for a signal, but Sukuna noticed. After that time you practically jumped when he stood up from his bed, he gave you a glare that made your knees weak. Instead, youâve decided to just wait for him to tell you when heâs ready.
A few days after your library talk, Sukuna finally gives you the signal.
Itâs morning, and you wake to see him hovering over your bed once again.
You startle, sitting up quickly as you rub your eyes. âWhâ what happened?â
He tosses you a little bag of chips, the type you can only get from the confectionery, and your brows furrow down at it.
âUm,â you glance at him, unsure, âthank you.â It sounds more like a question than a statement.
âLibrary, 12 pm. Thereâs a spot with no cameras in the back.â
Your eyes flicker in recognition, and your heart races as you nod. âOkay, Iâllâ umâ Iâll be there. Thatâs great. Sounds good.â
He deadpans at your pathetic attempt at speaking and walks off.
You canât help but feel a weird affection placing the bag of chips under your bed, rolling your eyes at yourself. Itâs a bag of chips, and you have more to worry about than catching feelings for this guy.
You have to prep.
The communal showers are sectioned by half walls and curtains. Youâve been able to shower, dry yourself, wrap your breasts, and get dressed all inside of the little shower section without anyone seeing your important body parts since youâve been here. Still, youâd rather some privacy as you do what needs to be done today.
Thankfully, itâs empty when you check the showers while breakfast is taking place.
You stand there naked under the water, toes curling in nerves as you slowly bring the empty bottle up to fill it with water. A homemade douche. Itâs mildly humiliating shooting water up your ass but itâs a necessary evil.
About a few hours later, youâre sorting books like your job entails, while anxiously glancing at the door and wall clock every two minutes with anticipation.
At 12:03 he pushes the door open, and you immediately turn your head back to face the shelves.
You hear him snap at the only person reading at a table, forcing them to leave. Your heart races when you hear him lock the entrance door behind them.
You stupidly pretend youâre deciding which shelf the book in your hands belongs on as his heavy footsteps close the distance between you.
He settles right beside you and you peek up at him.
âCome.â He nods his head, gesturing you to follow as he turns and leads you to the last isle, all the way to the back of the room.
âRight here?â You glance at the camera in the corner.
âRight here.â
You gasp when he grabs your hips and manhandles you over to the very corner of the isle, pressed into the shelf with your back to him. âItâs a blind spot.â
âOkay,â you lick your lips nervously, fumbling with the hem of your sweatpants. âIâ how do weâ should I justâ?â
He squeezes his big hands over your shaky ones, stopping you. âRelax,â he snaps. âAss fucking is not that difficult. Itâll be a lot easier for you than it is for women.â
You gulp at that, his (rude) reassurance means nothing considering the obvious.
He swats your hands away and you squeak when he pulls your sweatpants down enough to expose your ass to the chilly air.
You curiously glance back when you hear a click of a cap opening. He squirts an ungodly amount of lube into his palm and tosses it aside. (How did he even obtain lube in here?)
âPretty fucking ass,â he says as if itâs an insult, using one hand to spread your cheek and slide a glob onto your hole with two fingers.
You cringe at the cold feeling of the gel as he rubs your hole, anticipating him shoving his finger in there.
âItâs gonna hurt,â you say wearily, âright?â
He rolls his eyes, using his middle finger to push at the resistance of the rim.
You gasp when it pops in. He slowly massages your insides in a manner to loosen the very edges, preparing the most taught of the muscles to stretch. Itâs more weird than uncomfortable feeling something wiggling around in there.
âYouâre lucky Iâm doing this,â he rasps, âVirgin.â
âThank you,â you squeak. He uses his free hand to shove your hips out a bit more.
He whispers as he pulls his finger out, âHowâs it feel knowing youâre about to get fucked in the ass? Feel the shame yet?â
You gulp and clench your eyes shut when you catch a glimpse of his hefty cock being pulled out of his sweats. A large, scary winding vein catches your eye.
âSlow,â you chirp as he presses the tip to your ass, âplease go slow.â
He notches his chin over your head, wrapping one arm around your tummy to push your back into his chest and grunts, âI will.â
His large body envelops you, like a hard hug. If it werenât for his tip forcing your asshole to open up, youâd probably enjoy being held by a big man like this.
You hiss, unable to keep your hands from snapping back and digging your nails into his hips. The intrusion is uncomfortable, so odd and unnatural to have something this big pushing into your backside.
He doesnât seem to mind your nails, undulating the tip around in circles within the very inside so you can get used to the feeling.
âThatâs it,â he drawls, âopen up.â
You let out a high-pitched whine and your âboyâ persona is thrown out of the window, completely irrelevant as he inches the rest of it in. Heâs fully seated.
âOkay, okay,â you gasp, frantically tapping his hip and toned back, âdonât move yet.â
He exhales deeply, like he feels relaxed having finally mounted a warm hole. His warm huffs of breath calm you as they steadily fan the side of your head.
âTick tock,â he hums after a minute of your hole pulsing around him in attempt to cope with the intrusion. âIt will hurt less if I move.â
âFuck,â you whimper, shaky hands moving to brace against the shelves. âOkay, fine.â
âGood.â He wraps one hand roughly around your mouth and his other arm holds your midsection taut to his front.
You squeal behind his hand when he pulls out and barrels back in with one hard rut. It hurts, but somehow, his large dick has reached your g-spot through your ass. You likely have a bulge in your tummy from the way his tip is angled to push down against your vaginal canal through the back door.
âAhhh.â He tilts his head and rumbles an exhales right into your ear, like heâs dipping into a nice, warm hot-spring.
It doesnât take long for him to set a rhythm, rocking his hips in short, hard thrusts. The contact of your cheeks meeting his hips creates a loud âplap,â bouncing off the books in lewd repetition. His harsh breaths are the most you receive from him in terms of vocalized pleasure, but sometimes he offers a grunt.
Your feet shuffle with every hit, toes barely touching the ground as his strong hold keeps you up in the air like youâre just a human sized flesh light. Heâs using you, and you canât deny his incidental abuse of your g-spot feels good.
âYou moan like a fuckin girl,â he hisses into your ear as he pounds your ass.
You can only moan under his palm, confirming his what he thinks is an insult. The jackhammering is short and mean, barely a few inches of his base exiting your puckering hole before stuffing it back inside.
âThis ass is mine,â he grunts as your clit throbs with need, âPathetic fuck. Letting a guy bend you over.â
Your legs shake as he grows frantic and mean, putting horrifying strength behind each thrust. Youâre fucking like bunnies, your body frantically jostles up and down and youâd be embarrassed if it werenât for how heâs completely dominating you. A few books fall right off of the shelf and clatter to the carpeted floor with the force of it all. You wonder if heâs fucking you this hard because he thinks youâre a man, that you can and should be able to handle it.
You exhale sharply out of your nose, eyes clenched shut as you take his last few slams.
âFuck!â He grunts, throwing his head back as his grip on you grows so harsh youâll have bruises on your waist later. You feel his dick pulse as he dumps his load as deep as he can go into your ass, keeping his hips still against your irritated asscheeks.
Finally he sighs as he slides out, making your hole clench shut the second the intrusion is gone.
You practically stumble for balance as he lets you go, knees buckling. Pussy dripping and confused while your ass aches.
You want to just collapse right here, take a much needed rest, but you canât risk an accidental flash of your pussy. You pull your sweatpants up, out of breath.
He tucks his dick back in, glancing down at you with a glow of physical relief on his face. âYou took me well,â he licks his top teeth, tilting his head. âDid you enjoy getting your cherry popped?â
That was almost a compliment. Your insides are still screaming for an orgasm and a break simultaneously. You feel your face rise in temp, pathetically, and you canât help but tuck your chin to your chest.
âJust fucked you and youâre getting shy.â He snickers with a look of disgust. âI think iâll play with you again and again until I tire of this.â
He doesnât even give you a chance to respond before moseying out of the library, adjusting his dick in his pants as he goes.
Somehow, youâd gotten away with the first fucking without revealing your secret. Aside from not having a chance to finish the job and rub yourself to a much needed orgasm, youâre quite proud of yourself.
Sukuna doesnât speak to you more than usual following the act, heâs just not the type. Does one speak to their flesh light between uses?
That night, you almost believe youâre dreaming when you wake up to Sukunaâs weight lying directly on top of you. You couldnât sleep comfortably on your sore ass, so youâd had to sleep on your tummy, giving him a perfect opportunity.
âAgain,â he rasps into your ear, grinding against your ass. You must have done well earlier if heâs already back for more, or heâs fond of how your asshole feels.
You tiredly whine and lower your groggy tone to say, âBut the guards will hearâ and the others.â
He ignores your concerns and crawls down your body, yanking your sweats down. You squeak, pushing a hand under yourself to keep your pants up at the front.
You glance over your shoulder. âWhat are youâ oh!â
He spreads your ass and licks a stripe up your asshole, terrifyingly close to your pussy. So close your pussy clenches in anticipation, having a sweet mind of its own.
He pauses as he looks down at your hole with furrowed brows. Itâs dark enough that he wonât be able to see the feminine parts of you, you hope.
He doesnât say a word about his pause, just brings his face back down and pushes his tongue into your ass. He wriggles it around and you cringe, gripping the sheets as he stimulates your sore hole. You canât even tell if it feels good to have your ass ate, or if itâs the concept of this man with his face in your ass, or the fact that youâre just fucking horny and begging for scraps.
After one last lick from your hole all the way up to your lower back, he crawls up to lay on you with his lips to your ear.
âWhy the fuck is your ass sweet?â he asks as he lifts his hips to yank his cock out. Your brows raise, almost letting out a snicker. It must be due to your pussy leaking wetness down to your ass all day since the library.
âIâ I donât know,â you mumble as he holds one of your cheeks open and slides his tip against your hole.
âJust,â he grunts as he pops the tip in, not even waiting before pushing in to the hilt, âstay quiet and Iâll be done in a second.â
You whine under your breath, fisting the sheets as your toes curl. His legs surround the outsides of yours as his arms wrap around your neck in a loose headlock. You arenât sure you can stay quiet if he pounds you like he did before without his hand covering your mouth. Getting caught with his dick in your ass doesnât sound so great.
But fuck, you suddenly donât care because his abs clench as he lifts his hips and slides back in, already gaining a stead rhythm. Itâs slower than before, but hard. Your eyes roll back at how passionate it is, fingers pressing into his pulsing arms around your neck. You canât remember the last time a man truly put his heart into fucking you.
You think you may be able to enjoy this little arrangement after all, considering his dick is big enough to pound into your g-spot with every hump. Maybe his claim on you, the free use of it all, is charming too.
But then, he begins to slide a hand down under you and you freeze.
Heâs reaching for your nonexistent dick.
You snap your hand down to grip his wrist, stopping him, but you know that he could bypass your frail hold if he really wanted to.
âD-Donât touch,â you breathily murmur through his continued thrusts.
âTch,â he grunts in distaste, âWonât see your ugly dick. You should be thanking the gods that Iâd even try to touch you.â
You wish you could allow him to touch, rub your clit, finger you, fuck you the proper way. But no matter how horny you are, you have to have a clear head about this. If he knew you were a woman, he could tell the guardsâ or worse, tell the other inmates and let them have a turn with you. Thatâs just the tip of the iceberg of the horrible things that could happen to you if youâre exposed.
âI know, I know,â you gulp, lips parting as he manages a particularly nice thrust, âjustâ next time. Okay? Next time.â
He huffs, exasperated and gives up, moving his hand away and instead uses it to dig into your hip to get a better angle.
âFuuck,â you breathe in a particularly girly way as he reaches deeper, and he hisses in your ear in obvious pleasure. He seems to enjoy the way you âmoan like a woman.â
âGood,â he thrusts, âlittle,â thrust, âhole.â
He cums with a last few pitiful humps and rubs his hips against your ass in a circle as if to make sure his cum is deeep in there.
You feel utterly spent when he pulls out, two loads in your ass just from today and youâre clocking out.
He doesnât even give you another look as he gets up and stretches with a yawn, wet dick still hanging about his thigh.
You pull your sweats up with a grimace at how sore your asshole feels. If you werenât so horny, you might be annoyed how beat up your insides feel.
You exhale in relief when he passes out the second he flops down into bed like any average man does. Youâre already thinking of some way to fool him into thinking you have a cock by the next time he wants to fuck.
_______
Youâve stolen a cucumber from the kitchen. It wasnât easy, but you managed.
Sukuna has you up against the cell bars and has grown quite confident in his ability to fuck you within an inch of your life. He doesnât seem like heâs all that invested in you, after all, he still thinks of you as some boy heâs using to get off. But youâre still enjoying it as much as any woman can reasonably enjoy anal.
He definitely seems to enjoy fucking you too, because you can feel his thighs shake as he pounds into you.
He kicks your feet wider and reaches around you to grab at your âdick.â âGonna let me touch it now?â
You gulp, peeking down at his hand that finds the cucumber and grips it.
âJesus Christ, youâre fucking hard.â
You would laugh in his face if he wasnât obliterating your insides with heavy humps.
He slowly begins to knead your âcockâ and the only way you know that, is because the tip of the cucumber incidentally rubs against your clit with every one of his strokes.
âOh shit,â you breathe, brows raising and blinking into an eye roll of surprise pleasure. The stimulation to your clit and g-spot is like heaven after two days of being pent up.
âDonâtâ donât stop,â you beg, making his brow quirk.
The second you start fucking back into his cock, like an auto-masterbater, Sukunaâs eyes roll and his orgasm appears in the distance.
He sinks his teeth into your shoulder, indifferent to the pain he could be causing and meets your thrusts half way. Thereâs no way youâre not waking the entire cell block with the slapping sound bouncing off the concrete walls.
You sigh in disappointment when he lets go of your âdickâ and uses both hands to grip your hips, thrusting harder than ever.
He hisses an inhale like it hurts, a string of saliva connecting your shoulder to his teethâ and cums as his feet slightly shuffle.
âPhew,â he exhales, pulling out and tucking his dick back in. He crashes right into bed, just like before, and leaves you throbbing and needy. Again.
_____________
Sometime in the middle of the night, Your cell.
Sukuna has turned ravenous, he wants to fuck everyday, at least twice. Itâs a bit much because you have to prep the same day before anal, and youâve had to turn him down. Not without worries of how heâd take the rejection with little explanation, but thankfully, all he did is tsk and walk off.
One day of no sex, and heâs been staring at you through the entire day. When you wake up, in the cafeteria, on walks, while you draw on your bed. Itâs frightening since you canât read his expression thatâs always resting in a threatening way. Would it be stupid to ask what heâs feeling?
Honestly, you just wanted him to wait until you could prep, and then he could have at itâ but he didnât get the message. And itâs not like you can just tell him, âHey Sukuna, you can fuck my ass anytime now. Clockâs ticking!â Thatâd mean youâre actively seeking anal, and thatâs ridiculous. Right?
You shrug it off and decide to ignore his stare, focusing your attention on the book in your hands. Heâs a big boy, if he needs something, heâll ask for it.
And ask for it, he does.
You gasp when youâre suddenly pushed down flat to your bed, strong hands spreading your legs so Sukuna can rest between them as your book clatters to the floor. You hadnât even heard his footsteps, or the creak of his bed as he stood.
âJesus Christ,â you breathe, looking up at him with your heart racing out of your chest. âYou scared me.â
His clothed bulge is hovering just above your pussy, but if he rested his weight down a few inches, youâre fucked. Maybe literally.
He must have just showered, his hair is damp and dark pink. He looks down at you hungry, like youâre not a person but a fucktoy with a timed lock on it thatâs almost ready to use again, licking his bottom lip. âDoes this fix your problem? Can I fuck you now, princess?â
Your brows furrow, an obvious question mark on your expression. You ignore the pet name meant to taunt you, because youâre not a man with toxic masculinity.
He rolls his eyes. âIâm not kissing you. Missionary is as romantic as Iâll get. Take it or leave it.â
What? He must have misinterpreted your rejection as a desire for more intimacy and affection when you have sex. The idea of missionary with Sukuna makes your tummy flutterâ but you canât.
You press your lips together, concealing a laugh. âOh. Umâ no,â you gently press against his chest, âI like how we usually do it.â
âYou know,â he leans into your face, âIâm getting real tired of you bossing me around.â
âIâm sorry,â you say, recalling your excuse for keeping your dick out of sight, âI just feelâ uhâinsecure.â
âFuck that,â he grunts, grabbing hold of the hem of your sweats, âOnly way to get over that shit is to face it.â
You grasp his wrist, nervously. Itâs not like you donât want Sukuna to know youâre a woman so you can fuck the way you want to, itâs just too complicated and risky.
âIâ really, letâs just do it against the wall, like we always do!â you attempt to convince him as he pulls against your hold.
He doesnât say a word, just squints at you like he can smell bullshit in your words.
Suddenly, he yanks your pants all the way down until they fall to the floor and you immediately cup your sex, trying to hide from him. You twist your lower half to lie on your side, legs bent around his side so they can stay together.
He glances down at your lower half and grips your thigh. âShow me,â he snaps, more suspicious than warranted if he actually believed your lies of insecurity.
You shake your head stubbornly, clenching your eyes shut.
âNow,â he allows the word to reverberate against the walls of the cell, and you swear you can feel the vibrations in your chest.
That domineering tone is like a frequency that emits a wave of submission in timid people like you, like a lions roar to a cornered bunny.
Still, you donât open your legs.
He scoffs a huff of air, like heâs in disbelief of your sudden ability to grow balls. Pun intended.
You peek your eyes open when you feel him shift to crawl down your body until his breath is fanning your hand covering your pussy and naked asshole.
You squeak when he slides his tongue against your fingers. âOpen up,â he taunts, giving your asshole a little lick as well.
You whimper as he begins licking at your hand and your thighs, resolve dissolving with every warm, wet touch.
âIâmâ Iâm scared,â you admit with panic, though youâre being too vague for him to actually console you even if he wanted to.
He takes a big bite out of your thigh and you gasp, pussy clenching in need from the sting. Your wetness has made your hands slippery, and the second he takes another bite, this time a deep one on your fingers, your hand slips away with a sting and a hiss.
He takes the opportunity to yank your legs apart, spreading them over each of his thighs till youâre on full display in front of him. Like a plate.
Your wide eyes flick from your exposed pussy, to his red eyes trained down between your legs. You quickly reach to futilely cover yourself once again.
âAht!â he scolds, pinning your wrists to the bed on either side of your body before they can cover your sex again. âDonât fucking move,â he snaps, inches from your face.
You must have the expression of a small animal being prepped for slaughter as he closely eyes you because thatâs exactly how you feel. You watch his face shift as he realizes your features arenât just girly, youâre a fucking girl.
âPlease.â You plead him, but for what exactly?
He exhales into you, ignoring you to observe your body. He lets go of one wrist to slowly raise the hem of your shirt up to your collarbones, revealing a tightly wrapped chest.
As if he needs to make sure, he rips it away and blinks at your bouncing tits. One last look at your pussy and he huffs harshly, gazing into your eyes like he just won the lottery.
âHoly shit.â
Youâre mute, afraid and frozen in place as your legs clench around his hips, trying to close them around him even though itâs impossible.
âWhy are you here?â
He watches you with equal parts curiosity and amused awe.
âIâ I made a deal. A stupid fucking deal,â you breathe in your natural feminine voice. Itâs not hard to assume the deal was money for time in prison.
He shakes his head, laughing airily like he canât believe his eyes. âNow this is so very interesting. A woman in my cell.â
He leans into your ear, making your chest and tummy erupt in goosebumps. âI knew your little asshole was too good to be true.â He nips your ear and you whine.
âDonâtâ please donât tell anyone.â
Your quiet request makes him burst out laughing, head tossing back as he hovers over you territorially.
âTell them?â A vein in his forehead pops as his gaze manically flicks back and forth from each of your eyes, âNo, you foolish little thing. Youâre all mine. Youâd have to fucking kill me to share this pretty pussy.â
You arenât sure if you should feel relived or scared. Youâve grown fond of Sukunaâs cock, but that look in his eye is downright diabolical.
âYouâre,â you begin with a swallow, ânot gonna hurt me?â
âOhhh,â he breathes cathartically like heâs battling aggression seeing something so small and delicate beg not to be broken. âNo, no. Iâm not gonna hurt you. Youâre safe with me.â
You arenât so sure, if that glint in his eye and tone in his deep voice tells you anything. Like mouse encountering a perfect piece of cheese suspiciously sitting in the middle of the kitchen floor, begging to be eaten.
He leans in and lays a soft kiss to your cheek, making you blink.
âSee?â he hums smiling, âI know exactly how to handle with care.â
He presses his nose to your neck and starts sniffing you loudly, like a dogâ down to your breasts, your tummy, and finally he takes a good long sniff of your pussy.
You slap your hands to your face in embarrassment and he groans loudly on an exhale, jaw pinching as he clenches his teeth. âFuuuck. Nothing quite like it. Your pussy smells very nice,â he trails off with a manic laugh, licking his lips.
His eye catches on your pinched brows once you hesitantly pull your hands away to grip the sheets and he leans into your face with a careful kiss to your jaw. âDeal still on, baby?â
You absolutely have no choice, you need his protection now more than before. Without this deal, thereâs no telling what heâd doâ no matter what he says. And even if he keeps his word, whoâs to say no one else will find out your secret? It helps that heâs hauntingly sexy with a big dick he knows what to do with.
You gulp, nodding. âYes, please.â
âGoood,â his lip curls as he drawls the word out, âThatâs very good.â
He licks a wet stripe up the side of your face, making you grip his biceps.
âAre we going to have sex? Myâ You want myââ
He interrupts your stutter by humming against your cheek with amusement. âOh yes. I want your pussy. Iâm gonna take it over and over again.â
You exhale a sigh, eyes slightly rolling back, enjoying his words a little too much for the situation at hand.
âIâm not on birth control,â you warn him weakly as he begins to suck on your neck.
He hums nonchalantly, slowly sliding his hand down your tummy.
Your hips jerk when he cups your entire sex, long cold fingers pressing into your warm folds that are just begging for love.
âWe donât have condoms,â you add, biting your lip as he uses two middle fingers to carefully brush from your slippery hole up to your clit.
He chuckles against your neck, wickedly, like heâs enjoying every aspect of this conversation.
âNo, we donât,â he agrees with a smile you can literally hear on his voice.
Your jaw drops as he starts rubbing leisurely circles against your throbbing clit, back arching to press your abdomen into his hard abs.
âYou have to pull out,â you whine in a broken moan.
âOkay,â he agrees with ease, moving to press his lips to yours.
You barely kiss him back, as his lips slide and suck on yours.
âI thought you said you didnât want to kiss me,â you say, muffled as your legs tremble.
He moves his middle fingers down and slides one into your core, making you gasp into his mouth.
He abruptly shoves his tongue into your mouth, sliding and flicking against your tongue. He peeks the tip of his pointer finger in to join his middle inside you, and once your initial ring of resistance gives, he shoves it in like a glove.
âOh,â you whine, brows pinching and toes curling. âYour fingers are soâ fuckâ theyâre big.â
âOho,â he breathes as he unhurriedly rocks them in and out, âYouâve been so unsatisfied, havenât you? Getting ass fucked with not one touch to your pretty, crying little pussy.â
You nod erratically, âI was just so scared if you found ouâ oh god.â
He gradually puts weight behind his thrusts, fingering you at an angle to abuse your g-spot.
âYou thought I would want to hurt you,â he assumes with a pitying smile, âNo, no. I just wanna fuck the shit out of you.â
You reach down and grip his wrist, but his hand in motion makes it difficult.
âPlease make me cum,â you beg, âIâd be reallyâ so grateful.â
âYeah?â He presses a peck to your lips and crawls down to stuff his face between your legs. âFinally,â he sighs to your pussy.
He glances up at you and pecks your jumping clit. âGonna eat your pussy. You want that?â
Your eyes roll back and you nod pathetically. âOh my god, yes.â
He doesnât waste time. He makes a pursing motion with his lips and basically sucks your clit into his mouth like a vacuum, gently suckling on it with his eyes blissfully closed. His free hand rests around your hip and flat against your lower tummy.
Your brain is fucking buzzing, toes curling in the air as you breathe short, pathetic breaths. Youâre delightfully surprised he knows you need your clit stimulated to cum; a man in prison just isnât the type youâd expected to know what most women need.
You use both hands to gently curl into his pink hair, watching his lips envelop your clit as the motion of his hand rocks into you.
âThat feels good,â you affirm, voice shaky, making sure he knows heâs going a good job so he doesnât feel motivated to stop.
He doesnât answer you, just flicks his tongue against your clit with horrifying stamina, like his tongue is as trained as the rest of his body. You donât feel a second of lag in his force behind his tongue and that yummy suction.
You melt when he transitions into thorough, flat tongued licks, the kind that nudges your clit in a way thatâs not too overstimulatingâ but genuinely pleasurable in a sustainable way. You could actually cum like this. You rub his head like a masseuse, kneading the skin affectionately, making his brows and forehead slightly move with your massage.
He eats you like he hasnât eaten his favorite meal in a long time, and considering the slop in the cafeteria, your delirious mind thinks it makes perfect sense that heâs probably soo hungry. Itâs not his fault heâs so eager.
Your toes curl as your abdomen clenches inward, honing your focus to find an orgasm in the distance with every specifically pressurized slide of his tongue.
He tilts his head idly, side to side and the second he finds that perfect angle to the left, you gasp and yank his head impossibly closer.
âRight there, huh?â is the last thing he says before repeating the motion perfectly, over and over and over while his hand continues at ample speed. Itâs about 27 licks in when the white blinds your sight and you give in to the ecstasy of an orgasm.
âThank you, thank you, thank youâ fuck!â you stupidly babble the one phrase you canât seem to stop repeating to the man ever since you met him, voice strained and slurring as your brain short circuits and cuts off the connection between your motor skills and brain signals.
Even when you fall limp with fading euphoria, frailly whining, âno more,â his big mouth attaches to your entire slit like a fucking milk pump, despite acknowledging your orgasm passing by discarding his wet fingers to join his other hand on your hip/tummy area.
Itâs an interesting sightâ your weak, spasming body jerking in overstimulation as he blissfully hallows his cheeks and enjoys your cunt with all kinds of tongue techniques. The type of techniques a stupidly rich man has learnt after so many wine tastings to get the full taste profile of every berry inside to layer over his every tastebud. Getting his full moneyâs worth of this favorite thing.
But fuck if it doesnât feel good to be licked, even with the ultra sensitivity of an after glow.
âSukunaâ please,â you whimper, âArenât you gonna fuck me?â
Thatâs what makes him pause, flicking open his relaxed, heavily lidded gaze.
He unsuctions your warm folds, letting go in one popping motion and you exhale sharply when the cold air hits you.
He crawls up your body like a predator, more than twice your size. He slides his arms under your back to hold you flush to his body, hugging you in a possessive hold. One hand wraps around the back of your neck, fingers almost meeting at the front, and the other massages your lower back.
âAm I popping your pussy cherry too?â he hums, lips brushing yours as he speaks into your mouth.
âNo,â you huff, âIs that a deal breaker?â
He nips your lower lip. âIâm gonna eat you whole,â he expresses how deeply he wants to fuck youâ how small a concern like being a virgin would be to him.
You shiver, and maybe even start to consider why heâs in prison in the first place. Eat you.. whole..?
âCan we fuck first?â
He licks his teeth as his metaphorical tiger tail flicks behind himâ like a bunny has triggered a tigers instinct to play while in the midst of a chase. If he could purr, he would be right about now.
Interrupting your little moment, the breakfast bell rings. Sukuna must have made his move an hour before six while you were reading the night away and neither of you noted the time. Sukuna had thought itâd be a 10 minute ass fuck, but now that heâs stumbled upon gold in the form of a woman, heâs gotten distracted.
Youâre expecting Sukuna to be frustrated that you have to stop before you even reached the main event, but surprisingly, he just helps you get dressed and then stands lazily by the cell bars to cover you while you wrap your chest so no one eyes his plaything.
The guard just passes by boredly, doing morning checks, nodding at Sukuna in brief greeting.
Once the guard is out of sight, you huff in exhaustion and sit up on your bed. After all the fear of being exposed as a woman and having an orgasm like that, all you want is to sleep. You literally nod off as you sit there, listening to the ruffle of Sukuna throwing on some new clothes.
Two taps to your cheek makes you startle, slurping up some drool as you open your eyes. Sukuna squats in front of you, holding your knees.
âBreakfast,â he reminds you, âget up.â
You pout at his tone, having hoped heâd soften up to you after learning youâre a woman. A woman he desperately wants to fuck and protect and own.
âCanât you bring it to me?â
He blinks at you, deadpanning. âThe fuck did you just say?â
You flinch a bit, chin tucking into your chest. You grow even more alert as he stands and pushes over you, making you lean back in bed with your palms behind you, supporting your weight right beside his own larger ones.
âDoes this pretty little thing want to be punished?â
You immediately bite your lip, smiling as he pushes his head into your neck to nip at it.
âMhm, keep doing that,â you encourage his panty dropping neck kisses.
Oncoming footsteps leading closer and closer to your cell make your heart jolt, and suddenly he roughly pushes you down flat with a veiny hand tight around your throat.
âBegging for a beating so early in the morning are we, boy?â he rasps, menacingly, as the inmate walks past, peeking at your altercation briefly before scurrying off in fear of becoming involved in Sukunaâs business.
You smile.
Oh. Thisâll be fun.
______
SORRY edged you there, didnât I?
Also not sure if this counts as gender bend? Lmk if I should add it to the warnings!
Huge thanks to @specialgradefckr for giving me soo many ideas that I used for this ficâ I love yew sm I wanna eat you. Please check out their page. They have delicious writing
HOUSE RULESâ âââ â Your daughter's friend always heard from her that her parents are disgustingly in love. She doubts it after watching you and Sukuna interacting.
The girl had heard many stories about her friendâs parents.
âYou donât understand,â she had said more than a million times, âmy parents are, like, disgustingly in love. Itâs embarrassing.â
She had expected something cringey. Kisses in the kitchen. Maybe matching mugs. Some middle-aged couple nonsense. Something wholesome, like in one of those old movies.
She hadnât expected⊠this.
She stood awkwardly near the front door, her hands gripping the straps of her backpack. She felt slightly suffocated, as if the walls had eyes and all of them were staring at her.
A deep voice echoed through the house and she swallowed hard, glancing toward the kitchen, where her friend was calmly chewing her toast as if it were just another normal day.
âAre you blind?â Ryomen cleared his throat, one hand on his hip and the other lifting a small yogurt bottle to his mouth, his eyes fixed on his wife. âThatâs not how you cut them.â
âOh, Iâm sorry.â For a moment, the girl thought you were actually apologizing, but judging by the way you stabbed the poor fruit with the knife, it was easy to predict what would come next. âNext time Iâll ask for permission from the master chef before touching a knife.â
He smiled, but it wasnât a kind smile. It was the kind that showed too many teeth. Almost mocking.
âYou really should,â he replied, taking another sip of yogurt as if he were completely relaxed, as if his wife didnât have her hand dangerously close to a knife. âBecause clearly you lack the motor coordination.â
You slowly turned your body, leaning your hip against the counter and crossing your arms, your lips parting to retort. âItâs just a fruit.â
âPresentation matters.â He shrugged.
âThen cut it yourself.â
He tilted his head slightly. âAre you admitting your incompetence?â
âIâm offering you an opportunity, coward.â
âRightââ Sukunaâs gaze shifted, his eyes landing on the visitor near the door. âWhoâs that.â His expression was terrifying to the poor girl.
âMy friend, dad.â The teenager took one last sip of coffee and stood up. âSheâs walking to school with me.â
âYou brought someone into my house without asking for my permission first?â Sukuna placed the yogurt bottle on the counter and crossed his arms.
âThat âsomeoneâ is her friend,â you interrupted. âAnd the house is ours. I allowed it. Stop making a scene.â Your voice lowered slightly, as if trying to spare the poor girl from feeling even more embarrassed and intimidated.
âBut she didnât ask permissionââ
âI asked mom. Sheâs the one who decides, anyway,â your daughter said, placing her plate in the sink and grabbing her backpack from the chair.
He let out a low âhmâ through his nose.
âOf course,â he murmured, uncrossing his arms only to rest his hands on the counter behind him, leaning his weight back with an almost irritating calmness. âYou hide behind your motherâs authority.â
âSure, sure,â the teenager rolled her eyes, already pulling her friend by the arm toward the door.
âSweetheart,â you said, your voice softer than anything you had used in the past few minutes. âArenât you going to be late? Your father can give you two a ride.â
âI donâtââ
âWeâre fine! Thank you so much!â the friend answered far too quickly, dragging your daughter outside.
Ryomenâs gaze returned to you. âDid you see her behavior? In my time, children who challenged their parents learnedââ
âYouâre too talkative today,â you replied. âAnd donât complain, youâre the one who spoiled her.â
He scoffed, leaning over and hugging you from behind.
As the two girls walked side by side, the friend cleared her throat.
âAre they⊠okay?â
âTheyâre like that,â she replied. âGross, right? Imagine listening to that flirting every single day.â