VAN

twenty three. she her.

[f-tality0]

🚬 break

[spideyyeet]

NOT SO SECRET ADMIRER — T.F.

[ SUM ] — college soccer coach toji has a secret admirer. but how secret is it when most of the highlights in the school paper are photos of him, instead of the players scoring goals?

[ TAGS ] — MDNI 18+ ONLY. nsfw. piv. raw. unprotected. age gap (mid 30s x early 20s). slight exhibitionism. HEAVY CREAMPIE. FAT BULGE. spanking. CUNNILINGUS. oral f!recieving. dacryphilia. reader kinda freaky. thick dark sexy HAPPY TRAIL. nudity. SHOWER SEX. SCENT KINK. pet names. spitting. wc: 19.1k

[ A/N ] — inspired by coach!toji from my fratkuna series. I was gooning too much whenever I’d mention him soooo

photo-journalism can mean many things. at its core though is documentation and being present. it’s about recording what happens so it doesn’t vanish into the noise of the world. and that’s what you’ve been doing since you started uni.

working for the school newspaper means covering everything that matters to the university. big events, games, and when you attend a school with a division 1 soccer team, that’s ranked the top of the country, it means your weekends are spent on the sidelines of the pitch. floodlights humming overhead, cleats tearing into the turf, and the air sharp with anticipation.

everyone’s eyes are on the match, on the players, the scoreline, and the inevitable victory. everyone’s, except yours.

your lens has a habit of drifting. and it always finds him on the sidelines, the head coach.

standing just outside the white chalk lines. shaggy raven hair that never looks styled, stubble he clearly forgot—or chose not—to shave that morning. his infamous scar pulling at his lips as he shouts. he wears the same black team jacket unzipped, sleeves rolled up his thick forearms. when he folds his arms or gestures sharply toward the field, you always catch his muscles shifting beneath the fabric, veins flexing making it so impossible to ignore.

it’s just a photographer’s eye for striking subjects. for sure….

he beautifully contrasts against the chaos of the game…even if he’s shouting, or breaking his clipboard…. still, you capture him mid-shout, mid-thought, jaw clenched as he’s holding the entire team together.

and then later, when the photos run, and his photos dominate the highlights more than the actual goal, well, you pretend not to notice how often your name sits beneath them in a small, neat printed font.

he doesn’t know you. you’re just another person with a camera on the sidelines. you’re just another face in a sea of professional press badges, not just one of the universities many photographers. but you know him. you know the way his brows pinch when one of his players gets injured, the way his mouth twitches when his team scores, and the way he exhales with relief when the game ends.

and you keep clicking the shutter button—

“again?!” the head editor exclaims. “you didn’t get the goal?”

“I did!” you huff, glaring at the senior grad student who basically runs the entire school newspaper.

“not the first one, the final goal! the one scored by the universities ace! sukuna—“

“god forbid i missed a shot, I basically got everything else, plus I’m not the only one taking photos on the pitch. don’t you have other photographers?” you tsk, arms crossed.

he glares at you behind his desk, clicking through the photos you’d uploaded. “you got every single expression of the damn coach,” he mutters under his breath, clicking through one of toji shouting, then another of him spitting on the grass, then another of him scratching his jaw—

you nibble on your cheek, slouching slightly in the seat.

“you hate when we use someone else’s photos,” he adds, licking his teeth as he finally gets to your photos of the actual players. and they were spectacular. the action shots were perfect, you can see the sweat dribbling down their foreheads.

“because it’s my job,” you mutter, glancing at your editor who frowns when the photos return back to the head coach.

“unbelievable,” he mumbles, exhaling slowly as he sits back in his seat. “you’re killing me.”

your heel kicks the floor. this wasn’t a first. this happens almost every time. your lens just happens to drift away from the ball and fall on the head coach.

even with fans shouting in the stands, and the other cameras flashing in the other direction. your camera can’t help but find coach toji in the chaos. he was just as important as the team. he’s acting like toji isn’t mentioned a million times in the articles! god forbid you want him getting his flowers. but your editor wasn’t very appreciative of your sympathies.

“we’re going with these three, and taking one from the other photographers for the final goal you didn’t get,” he sighs, showing you your three photos, one of the team celebrating, another of satoru gojo sprinting across the field with the ball, and of course, the final — and in your opinion the best — of head coach toji standing with his muscular arms crossed at the start of the second half.

your editor rolls his eyes turning his screen back to him. “if you bring another folder and it’s seventy percent of this damn coach, I’ll drop you and pull noah up.”

the threat has you lowering your head and muttering a hesitate okay, because at the end of the day, you were the only photographer that worked full time for the paper, and you go to every single match. the rest are focused on other stories, or working their way to become editors.

while you liked photo-journalism more. it helped, that on weekends, you got someone to admire. and your editor was not the only one that’s noticed.

“what the hell, you’ve got to be kidding me,” geto huffs, snatching the paper from gojo as he sits on the pitch. “why am I never in these damn fucking articles??” he huffs with anger

“score more goals,” gojo sticks his tongue out, just to get kicked harshly by his friend.

“I fucking scored this game,” geto snaps, grumbling even more as he flips through the paper, seeing the team celebrating.

sukuna chugs his water behind them, “my picture sucks ass,” he grumbles, spitting the water right beside their goalie making him jerk back in annoyance. “you didn’t score, but I get the shit picture?” he snaps lowly at gojo.

geto frowns, “I scored, and at least you get a picture.”

gojo chuckles, pointing at the next photo, making the entire team roll their eyes simultaneously.

“some things never change,” one teammate, yuno, mutters. his hands are on his hips as him and the rest of the team glare at the immaculate, pristine, jaw-dropping photo captured of their strict, grumpy, nicotine addicted head coach, toji.

sukuna snarls as geto looks like he’s going to fucking tear out his luscious black hair. “fucking unbelievable.”

gojo snorts even louder, snatching the paper just to wave it from his place on the ground towards toji, who’d just gotten off the phone. “coach! you’re mogging the cameras again!”

toji’s brows pinch until he notices the photo. and it’s always the same reaction from the head coach. his eyes scan over the photo, then they fall down to the same printed name underneath. “not bad,” he casually says, handing back the newspaper like it’s nothing.

but the entire team is seething, with the exception of gojo laughing his ass off.

“I finally figured out who your secret admirer is,” gojo announces, “it’s definitely the cutie with the charm on her camera and stickers on her flashlight.”

geto raises a brow “how d’ya know that?” the rest of the team immediately huddle in.

gojo clears his throat.

“for the last few games I’ve been purposely fixing my shoes or drinking water on the sidelines where they’re all huddled up. obviously I ruled out all the old farts, then I narrowed it down to the ladies. then i crossed out the outside press, but it’s hard since I can’t see all their press badges—but then i noticed,” gojo holds up the newspaper, slapping his index finger on your name beneath the photo. the entire team have basically memorized your full name by now. “she was the only one still photographing the field, BUT it was pointed at coach,” gojo points to toji.

“AND,” gojo continues, “she had this cute little charm on her camera, and this sticker. and it’s definitely your secret admirer,” gojo confidently smiles.

however, geto scratches his jaw, glancing at gojo then the newspaper. “so which one was her instagram?”

oh right, gojo rubs his neck in disappointment.

your name under a majority of the game’s photos started catching the teams attention a couple months ago. your credentials at the bottom of the article was always signed with your first and last name. however, when the team caught on to your not-so secret admiration for their coach, and neglect of the rest of team, they tried stalking you.

yet, they couldn’t find a single social media handle. not your instagram, twitter, tiktok — even your linkedIn was just the default linkedIn pfp. and the school paper website didn’t have a photo for you. either way, the team was on a mission.

“I don’t think her socials are even under her name,” gojo admits, making the team groan.

toji, silently watching the ordeal transpire, claps his hands, breaking the gossip. “enough, continue your drills unless ya wanna stay till sunset!”

once the team finally finishes practice and began packing their gear. neither one of them notices the students enjoying the nice weather on campus, or the girl that take a detours to walk past the field.

your eyes easily fall on your perfect subject. his hand cracks his neck as he stifles a yawn, kicking the soccer ball towards one of the players as they kick it up, tucking it under their arm.

it was a routine….one that you found yourself subconsciously doing on practice days. you would follow the path down from the quad, until you reach the second soccer field on campus, mainly used for practice and training.

your bag hangs off your shoulder along with your camera — the lens was downsized to your fixed 24mm and the flash wasn’t on — that’s usually how your camera is when you aren’t at events, or games.

it isn’t uncommon to watch the schools infamous soccer team practice. especially when half of them are also part of a fraternity. hell, on the other side of the field were a few girls fawning over the sweaty players.

in other words, you don’t stand out. and you’re unbothered by the hot players that glance your way as they pack their bags. well, until a certain white haired player is squinting across the field, before muttering a quiet “no way…”

geto gives his friend a look, lifting his duffle over his shoulder as sukuna wipes his face with the hem of his jersey, “what?” he grumbles.

gojo’s bag hit the grass. he locks eyes with you. then he does the worst thing imaginable. he shouts your name.

the entire team snap their necks in your direction. gojo suddenly leads the pack of six foot whatever college men across the field — their bags drop, cleats half untied, some bare foot. but all on one mission.

you.

the color immediately drains from your face. your body freezes like a deer in headlights. and when the entire team of sweaty, built, hot men crowd the waist-high fence that separate them from you. you’re ultimately stuck.

“you’re-you’re—“ slightly out of breath and pumped full of adrenaline, gojo heaves out your name. not just a first name, no—your full government name. “right!?”

you eyes lazily drag between the men, fixing the strap of your bag, your camera clinking against the side, drawing every man’s attention to the little charm gojo had just described less than an hour ago.

“yeah,” you manage to exhale, shifting your balance. “did you need something?”

“yeah,” the low voice of the hot headed team captain interrupts. he hadn’t ran with rest of the players, instead he walked up, casual and full of loud confidence. finally making his way across the field, energy drink in hand, glaring right through you as he continues. “why the fuck was my picture the only one not taken by you? it looks like shit.”

you exhale, about to answer when another one cuts in.

“why haven’t you taken one of me? the game last month was my debut and you didn’t get me going on the pitch—“

“I liked that shot you got of me when—“

“can you get my good side next time—“

“why did you—“

“can you—“

“you didn’t get my goal!” geto manages to dogpile. all the men yell complaints and compliments, overwhelming you with critiques. until you’re frowning, glaring harshly at the group of men you’d watched from a distance since your freshman year.

“I don’t work for you guys,” you finally snap. your words are cold making the men frown. “I work for the schools paper, and they choose the photos, not me.”

“and yet coach is in every single one of em?” geto bites back, and that’s when they all catch the slight surprise that crosses your face.

gojo smirks, leaning over the fence, getting close as he tilts his head. “seems like a majority of your photos have our coach. it’s like your editor can’t help but be forced to put him in.”

you feel your stomach churn, glancing between the sharp sapphire eyes. “that’s not how it works,” you mutter.

you did not expect your first interaction with the soccer team to be this. accusing you of favoritism. you can practically feel all their eyes on you, like they knew exactly who you are, even if this is your first time speaking to them.

“sure looks like it,” sukuna drawls, smirking wide when he sees you shift uncomfortably. “you like our coach or somethin?”

“of course she does,” geto’s smooth voice cuts in. “do you get all hot lookin at coach toji?”

you swallow thickly, pushing down the heat crawling up your neck to glare at the men. “you guys are disgusting,” you spit, but the men don’t falter, instead they continue gloating and poking.

“we just wanna get to know you. you’ve been takin’ our pics for months, we can’t have a chat now?” geto cuts.

they were quietly impressed with your composure. your poker face would’ve been perfect if not for the slight fidgeting you’re doing with your bag and camera strap. either way, your glare was mean, unwavering until—

“cut it out.”

the sharp voice slices through the team. then, one strong palm shoves gojo into geto, and the rest of the team topple on each other like dominos. the head coach plants himself between the fence, his team, and you.

“i forget you’re all a couple children,” toji tsks, his arms are crossed standing like a lone knight keeping a pack a wolves from a poor princess.

your heart slams against your rib cage. all your composure evaporates into thin air, struggling to catch your breath. this was the closest you’ve gotten to the head coach. you can practically smell the mixture of his cologne and natural musk. your cheeks grow hotter by the second, completely dazed and loosing all other senses, unaware that practically half the team noticed your sudden shift.

gojo elbows geto eyeing the way your pupils basically turn into bright pink hearts. even your lips look more glossy from the drool collecting in your mouth.

they’d never seen anything like it, and for their coach of all people?!

you’re caught up in gawking at the huge man, eyeing his wide shoulders, the veins straining from his compression shirt, his shirt clinging to every muscle that could break you in a blink of an eye — that you miss his short lecture towards his boys to quit scaring off a young woman, all to end with him shouting—

“ten more laps!”

the team’s eyes bulge, jaws dropping in shock, and quickly follow up with a spew of complaints.

“ya heard coach!” sukuna, the hot-headed captain, interrupts. and if the team wasn’t scared of their coach, they definitely had a reason to be with their captain. they ultimately drop their things and start their laps. however, sukuna hangs back at bit, “I didn’t even say sh—“

“you were late to practice, so you were gonna do the laps anyways,” toji cuts, earning a loud tsk from the tattooed captain. his duffle drops on the floor dramatically, eyes flicking towards yours, which — no surprise — haven’t left the coach’s profile, and with his own groan, his cleats hit the grass starting his lap.

with the entire team running laps….you’re left alone.

coach toji doesn’t move.

instead, he leans against the fence, strong arms crossing. you’re barely a foot behind him, close enough that the scent of grass and dizzy cologne reaches you when he shifts his weight. close enough that your brain short-circuits again.

then he looks over his shoulder.

it’s not rushed or sharp. it was an easy turn of his head, his dark emerald eyes flick to you with calm, assessing. and up close, he’s worse. he’s broader than he looks from the sidelines, his stubble shadowing his jaw feels unfair for a sunday morning. sunlight catches the edge of his cheekbone, and the curve of his mouth makes you stare shamelessly especially when it lifts just slightly. he’s amused by something you’re not aware of yet and you don’t even notice.

your heart stutters.

you practically forget how to stand or how to function like a grown ass adult, instead you feel like someone who’s just had their fantasy materialize directly in front of them.

heat rushes to your face, your chest tightens, and you pray, desperately, that your expression isn’t as transparent as it feels. you focus on keeping your hands still, even as your pulse flutters wildly under your skin.

and toji’s gaze lingers. he takes you in like the way someone experienced does, without staring, without shame, just a brief glance that drifts. from your fidgeting fingers, to your necklace trapped between your pretty cleavage, to the tank top that hugs your chest, to the zip up hoodie falling off your soft shoulder. to your lips, wet from the amount of times you’d lick and bit them.

and you still don’t notice it! you’re too busy trying not to melt into the grass beneath your feet. all you register is how hot the space suddenly feels, how solid he seems standing there.

from the field, a player snickers mid-lap. a majority watching the entire interaction, waiting for someone to make a move. gojo snickers as geto analyzes.

you don’t hear any of it, all you know is that the knights are real, and he’s right in front of you, and your carefully maintained composure never stood a chance. especially when his eyes meet yours and his deep, husky, voice sinks into your bones.

“been wondering who was seein’ me like that, sweetheart.”

you were gone.

s-s-s-sweetheart!?

your heart bursts, veins burning through your skin as your lips part, words falling into the void as your brain struggles to reply.

and he finds it adorable.

college girls are cute, but you, you’re a little pervert. how many photos have you taken of him? and for the past year too? he’s wondered just like his team had, who was behind all those photos. who was oogling him while the best team in the nation was playing right before their eyes?

at first, he was bothered, confused even, how big of a stalker did you have to be to take his photos for months and not introduce yourself?

but now he sees it. the way you’re struggling to find words. the way your eyes flick between his — surprised even that you’re not shying away from eye contact, but instead, struggling to just respond. like the words are right there, but your dumb brain is getting fried just by his presence. cute.

“I’ll try an’ wink next time.”

he just hammers the nail straight into your heart. your face bursts into flames as you let out a strangled hum like whine, face burning even more. unfortunately, your audience isn’t as silent. instead a few had caught your reaction and were bursting with laughter. a few whistling at their coach.

“she’s too young for ya, coach!”

“get someone y’er own age!”

“coach, the shy ones are the freakiest!”

the last one — somehow — snapped you back to reality. your glare cut through the field, immediately hitting one of the players making him burst out laughing along with the others around him. your face pulls into a scowl, heart hammering at the teasing you’re receiving from the team. who even are they? they don’t know anything about you!

shy?! you?!!! you scowl in annoyance, eyes rollin—

“ignore em, sweetheart. they’re just being dicks.”

fuck.

your face burns hot again, heart hammering against your ribs as you stutter out another nod, fingers gripping your bag as you glance at the head coach again. his green eyes were unbelievably dark, just staring at them, you felt like you were getting dizzy.

the scar on his lip twitches up, leaning an elbow on the fence, his eyes flick down to your camera. “what kinda camera is that?”

your eyes widen, looking down like you’re surprised it’s there. but it seems like he flicks a switch in your brain with that question, because now you’re fumbling to hold the delicate thing in your hands. then you hold it out for him.

a small puff of air leaves his nose in amusement. you’re cute. he turns, reaching his hand out, just for your small ones to place the expensive camera in his. the same one you’d deny your friends from even holding, afraid they’ll drop it.

b-but if coach toji holds it…if he wants to hold it…who…who are you to stop him!!!

your blush only breaks out across your body once you feel your hands brush his, eyes so bright and big even he can see the hearts explode from your irises, fuzzy pink flowers glowing around your head like a cartoon.

“looks expensive,” he finally takes his eyes away from you to momentarily examine the camera. it was nice, sony. “bought it yourself?”

you nod, smiling as you rock on your heels. “it was…” oh first words, toji’s eyes flick to you, eyeing your glossy lips as they part. “my first big purchase,” you glance at the camera then back up at toji as you point with your manicured index finger, towards the camera. “it’s nice…right?”

well fuck me.

toji chuckles internally. he really can’t read you. from rude (to the team), to shy, to snappy (to the team), to demure, to charming—all while looking up at him like he’s some shinning knight and not a coach, albeit for the best team in the nation, but still.

his lips curl up, his internal switch already flipped when he shooed the team away, and the smooth voice of his poured out like second nature. “very nice, sweetheart.”

you nod, enthusiastically.

god, you were a cutie.

“and you take such good pictures with it too, you’re a natural,” the sweet words just keep pouring from his mouth like honey, and you’re eating up every drop. your feet manage to carry you closer to the fence…closer to him.

you wet your glossy lips, leaning close to point at the camera, “it also takes video here…I initially wanted to do more videography, but I stuck with photos. but it’s a nice perk with the camera…and I can shoot in raw and jpeg, so I can edit them afterwards if I want, and uh and I have other lenses too. this one is a fixed one, so it can’t zoom, but I have two other ones that zoom, I usually use those ones for work…like during your….games.”

your rambling was one of, if not, the most attractively adorable things you could’ve done at this moment. especially when you’re oblivious to the light flush that settles in the coach’s stomach as he eyes you down.

his gaze flicks between your fingers on the camera, and your profile from his height. your hair lightly brush’s back from the wind exposing your neck, your perfume reaching his nose.

“can I try takin’ a pic?”

your face bursts hot, you feel like it’ll melt off as you gawk up at the head coach, before nodding your head frantically, a wide smile pulling at your lips. you try to clear your throat as you turn the camera on for him and take the lens cap off.

“good?” he asks.

you just nod again, biting your cheek feeling how wide you’re smiling it almost hurts, but you can’t take your eyes off the way his big hands handle your camera. your biggest crush ever is using your camera!

you contain a squeal as he stands straight. he brings the camera to his eye, before lowering it again, confused. your eyes widen momentarily before realizing he’s struggling and quickly stepping up again.

you lean over the fence. and toji purposely avoids coming down to your height. instead, he watches you hold the fence to stand on your tippy toes, the other gently holds his wrist to ask him to lower the camera just a bit from his eye so you can instruct him. fuck, the confidence to touch him when you were just a jittery mess a second ago.

“the shutter button is here. if you half press it, it’ll auto-focus for you—“ you move to the front of the camera flipping some switch, “jus’ turned it on. but just press down all the way and it’ll take the picture,” you say, mistakenly glancing up from where you are, just to realize that coach toji’s face is inches from yours. his warm breath fans against your cheek, his scar so close, his lips right there and his eyes….

you were beyond gone. the steam immediately comes off your face as your eyes turn into big giant hearts. you’re so easy to read it should be illegal.

you fall back on your heels, allowing toji to attempt again. what you weren’t expecting was for him to point the camera at you.

well considering the wider lens, I guess he wants to shoot something closer for more satisfaction. but it caught you slightly off guard, your cheeks flame once more, heart stuttering, but your face immediately lights up.

his lips curve up behind the camera, watching you give him a cute smile, angling your head to tip to the side a bit. people that automatically smile when a camera is pointed at them is definitely a cute trait.

he takes a few quick photos, before pulling the camera back. “how do I see ‘em?”

this time he lowers the camera for you, but keeps it close to his body so you’re still leaning over and up beside him, albeit with the fence between you both.

“ah the sun was behind me,” you realize now looking at the photos. toji hums like he knows what that means (he doesn’t) but he clicks the button to go to the next picture and same thing.

“let’s do it again,” he says, already pulling the camera back, but your finger quickly reaches out, easily flipping it back to view mode before moving back. toji watches you glance up at the sky, before moving yourself in front of the sun. “smile f’er me, sweetheart.”

you were smiling, but now—toji chuckles through his nose at your reaction. he knows exactly what he’s doing. he takes one photo, than another.

your smile turns more pose worthy, not so big, but just as beautiful. “you’re a natural,” he comments, with full honesty.

your cheeks flush, waving your hand in front of you, “don’t glaze me.”

toji snorts, “jus’ saying what I see, not my fault you pose like a model.”

a model?!

toji notices the way you bite your cheek and the way your hands fidget with your bag. “put the bag down, sweetheart.”

your heart skips again, the nickname electing a response from you every time. but you oblige, setting your bag on the ground. now without anything to fidget with, your hands carefully clasp behind your back, your navy hoodie completely off your shoulder, exposing the casual white tank top. his eyes glance at the swell of your tits that your bra pushes up. and the sliver of skin that peaks at the bottom.

the wind was like a perfect accessory, blowing a warm spring breeze in your direction brushing your hair again.

you do your best to pose casually, smiling at the camera, eyes low as you stare into the lens, heart beating erratically as you wait for coach toji to finish.

your breath catches momentarily. cheeks stinging and lips parting like a deer in headlights, because you notice it. just briefly, the way toji lowers the camera from his eye, gaze tracking down your figure, eyeing your thighs, then your hips, then your tits.

he’s definitely checking you out.

you glance away, flustered, unaware that toji was now clicking the library to view the photos he’d just taken.

“I think I’m a pretty good shot,” he compliments his nonexistent skills, but the light hits you so well.

you smile watching him look at the photos. eyes glued to his lazy smirk, stomach hot and heart fluttering at his short comments. he’s so handsome, you glance at the curve of his nose, the stubble on his cheek. he’s so so pretty.

your mind was getting dizzy, all because coach toji is in front of you, but it made you completely forgetful that if he keeps clicking next, it’ll eventually reach—

“oh.”

you first notice the slight raise of his brows, then the scar on his lip twitching wider, then the greens of his eyes darkening.

“did ya’ submit these too, sweetheart?”

your brows furrow for half a second, then it clicks. you lunge forward.

this can’t be happening!

you immediately cover the screen and take the camera as you hear the coach chuckle. of course you’d forgotten that you had these on your sd card.

staring back at you is a photo of toji’s fat bulge from the game. you managed to catch the moment he reached down to itch himself, grabbing it. if he saw this one he definitely saw the three before this of the closeups of his lips, his big biceps, his ass when he was fixing his shoes.

your heart is beating in your ears, skin sizzling with embarrassment as your vision starts to narrow. your eyes flick up to the coach in horror, flustered beyond speech. “it’s not—“ you struggle to explain, “you weren’t supposed to see that. I was just taking one—then I someone bumped so like, the camera went down—“

the rambling was unlike the one before, this one was much more uncoordinated, fueled by your humiliation, anxiety, and desperate attempt at defending yourself to him, so that he doesn’t think you’re some creep.

“I wore that shirt from the match two weeks ago. not this one….” his head tilts, arms folded across his beefy chest. “why do you still have ‘em?”

the older man is quite unbothered. instead, his chest grew hot, and his mind wandered off imagining this hot college girl laying in her bed, staring at pictures of his crotch with her small fingers playing with her wet little pussy. his eyes flick to your chest again.

your eyes are wide, glancing at your camera.

“I just forgot to format the card,” you quickly reply, pretty chest rising and falling. “I always forget, and I realize after when I’m exporting the photos or run out of storage—I delete them, i-i swear!”

he snorts, head tilting, “you swear?”

you nod frantically.

his emerald eyes narrow, tongue poking out to wet his lips, touching his scar. his eyes flick to the camera in your hands. you’re quite the actor…

“okay, I’ll take your word then. you wouldn’t lie to me…?” his gaze was intimidating, the darkness of his pupils felt like a black hole pulling you in. but somehow you manage to shake your head.

“no, sir.”

toji holds eye contact, before tearing it away to reach for his phone, “good girl.”

your heart beats in your throat, threatening to tear out, but you step forward, eyes big and sad. “sorry, coach.” there’s a slight waver in your voice, the man’s eyes widen briefly, chuckling under his breath as he brings a hand up to the crown of your head.

“don’t worry about it, keep taking photos of me. ya’ make me feel important,” his comment is punctuated with a flirtatious wink, shooting another arrow straight into your heart.

you were lovestruck the entire trip home. and so unbelievably grateful.

you talked your way out of such incriminating evidence. because how could coach toji know that in truth, you have an entire album of photos just like the ones he saw, that you pull out almost every night to help you cum.

you really should be an actor, you think, blushing at the way he called you good girl. the way he looked at you, the way his fingers brushed yours on the camera —ahhhh, you bury your hot face in your hands.

you were in shock for days, heart slamming against your chest and face heating up every time you thought back to the moment.

you were so in your head that you hadn’t even noticed the two athletes walking up behind you on your way out of class, crossing the quad.

it’s like that thing that happens. when you’re finally introduced to someone for the first time, then you’re suddenly seeing them everywhere. that’s how geto and gojo felt. you’d been under their noses the entire time.

with a lecture of over two hundred students, of course they’d spot you when you entered today. gojo elbowed his friend, nodding in your direction. geto’s eyes nearly popped.

“what the hell?” geto leans forward, the two men closely watch you enter the lecture hall, walking a few rows down before slipping in. geto’s eyes narrow at the camera you carefully place in your lap as you take out your ipad.

it was like the cards were being dealt out for him perfectly.

“wait, I don’t get it,” gojo huffs catching up to his friend as the lecture hall empties.

geto tsks, “what’s not to get? I’m gonna bribe her into taking photos of me next game. I’m fucking tired of being some fucking blur—“

“you’ve gotten some photos man—“

“well i want more. ones where I’m actually scoring,” geto huffs, brushing his bang back in frustration.

once the two men hit the pavement outside, they spot you. gojo is tagging along for the fun, while geto is set on a mission. one he conjured up mid-lecture the second he saw you. it was perfect. genius—

“what?” your face scrunches in mild disgust. the two men baffle at your reaction, especially at the way you’re looking up at them with narrow, and irritated eyes. your expression isn’t hard to decipher, it’s basically screaming, why tf are you talking to me?

geto licks his teeth, exhaling through his nose, “you heard me fine, sweetheart—“

“don’t call me that.”

his jaw clenches, repeating his line without the pet name. “the next two games are the semifinals and then the finals, so I’ll give you access through our manager to join press during the media window two days before the matches—“

“I already have access to that through the school paper,” you give him a look, immediately ticking him off.

“let me fucking finish will you—“

“you’re taking forever and I’m being cornered,” you snap back, rolling your eyes at the pretentious athlete. geto bites his tongue, as gojo gasps.

“you’re not being cornered!” he states, just to exchange a look with geto as they both see that they’ve steered you off the pavement and against a tree. “no—we’re just talking.”

you exhale, glancing back at geto, “whatever, just finish.”

geto licks his lips, continuing, “you’ll also get access to our locker room strategy meeting or whatever, and behind the scenes access — you only do photos, no video or interviews?”

you shake your head, heart beating just a little quicker because now you’re starting to see the perks. bts access is the one thing university teams can deny since they don’t like any outsiders butting into their strategies or taking them out of “the zone.”

that also means you can see….coach toji.

gojo and geto both notice the realization crossing your face, especially when your lips part, much more glossy than before. unbelievable.

“but,” geto snaps you back, your eyes darting up to meet his, “you better take some good fucking shots of me during the game. if I’m not in the fucking paper and insta page, then no deal.”

you gasp, “dude, you’re literally acting like I’m the one in charge of that?? it’s my editor that picks the photos to put in the articles.”

geto tsks, “yet somehow coach is in every single one.” your jaw clenches, stomach heating up. “take more photos of me so it’s inevitable. got it?”

your lip curls in annoyance, eyeing geto, just for gojo to suddenly but in—

“but also take some of me, i look so hot in them and i like reposting them on my insta,” gojo flashes you a smile.

your frown deepens, “there’s other photographers. you guys know that right?”

“yours are the only ones they choose and they look better than whoever took sukuna’s,” gojo snorts, remembering their captains complaints.

nevertheless, geto and gojo wait for you to agree, both men standing with their arms crossed, blocking the spring sun from hitting you.

then a certain captain happens to pass by, noticing his two teammates, and frat brothers.

“the fuck are you guys doing?”

the men whip their heads as sukuna steps up, bag slung over his shoulder wearing a backwards baseball cap. and with a quick explanation from his friends, sukuna tsks glancing at you and adding.

“coach always showers before or after our games.”

and it was that one bit of information that automatically has you saying: “deal.”

—

you don’t rush setting up. you check your flash, bouncing it once off the ceiling to make sure it won’t wash anyone out. your fingers move with muscle memory, standing in these rooms plenty of times for the school paper, along with other journalists from the school paper especially for media days, post-game scrums, pre-season press.

so this isn’t new territory.

the room is packed, though. there’s national outlets mingling with campus press, and clusters of journalists already talking. you hear familiar phrases float past as you move, many talking about the teams unbeaten streak, their goal differentials, their historic season.

familiar names are easily getting tossed around. captain sukuna coming up first, always, and his leadership, and the way he commands the field. gojo’s speed follows after, and his natural talent and eye for goals, then geto’s consistency, his intelligence and composure. someone mentions scouts again, plural this time, and how a few clubs have been hovering around those three all season.

you barely react because you’ve heard all of this before, and it was impressive of course, you enjoy it. however, what does get you, embarrassingly, is his name.

every time coach toji is mentioned—his tactics, his discipline, the way he rebuilt the program and incorporated new strategies —you feel heat creep up your neck. it’s a soft and traitorous blush that you’re grateful no one’s looking closely enough to notice you smiling.

you keep your eyes on your camera, pretending to fiddle with a setting you don’t actually need to adjust, reminding yourself that he’s just part of the team. a very effective, very respected part of it.

then finally, the noise dips and the conversations fade into an expectant quiet as the side door opens.

the players file in first, with sukuna at the front, expression unreadable, gojo already grinning, geto calm and observant as ever. everyone’s cameras lift, and recorders click on. and then he steps in behind them.

coach toji, in a suit.

your face breaks into a hot mess, heart skipping a beat as you eye him through your lens. it fits him too well. dark, sharp, shoulders filling it out like it was tailored perfectly. no team jacket today, no morning stumble. no, he looked clean, with polished shoes, and authority. he guides the team forward eyes sweeping the room calmly.

your flash fires once, professionalism wavering again. how can it not when your knight is walking into the room and reminding you exactly how out of reach he is.

the entire team easily spots you in the front row for the first time. your charm hangs from your camera strap, along with the little sticker on your godox flash. they all know who you are now, so their wasn’t any hiding the way they’d purposely glance at your camera lens, giving you their best shots.

many of the questions are being directed towards the coach, your eyes focus on his reaction, lens zooming close as he rolls his dress shirt over his forearms. your camera flashes and your cheeks warm. you do this every time. acting like it’s your first time seeing the coach in a suit even though he wears one every semifinals press. but you can’t help it!

journalists throw questions without breath, firing rounds until the set time is up.

“photographers only, please.”

the room clears out fast. chairs scrape back, and laptops snap shut. you step forward instinctively, already lifting your camera. the players shift back into place. sukuna straightens, his expression resetting into something stoic. gojo cracks a joke under his breath that earns him a look. geto adjusts his sleeves, calm as ever.

toji moves standing just off to the side at first, arms crossed, smooth dress shirt crinkling over his taut muscles, and unforgiving across his shoulders.

the manager gestures. “let’s get the team all together first.”

cameras flash as the team pose, all in their uniform. you move easily getting their shots, unaware of the emerald eyes watching your every move.

coach toji noticed you the minute he stepped into the room. however, he remained composed, knowing how many eyes were on him. but now, his eyes sweep over your figure.

your grey dress pants hugging that right ass, and those hips. the tight dress shirt hugged your frame, with the top buttons undone allowing some of your cleavage to be revealed along with your necklace stack. business casual, but he’s sure half the team is looking at your tits. your pretty anklet catching the light as you move in your kitten heels.

“coach with sukuna,” the manager says.

toji steps forward.

you track him without thinking, framing the shot as he places a hand lightly at sukuna’s back, guiding him a half-step to the left. your shutter clicks, noticing how easily he steps into your frame, how naturally he fills it. his height just a hair taller than the hot headed captain, at least in your eyes.

“alright, another group photo,” the manager says.

toji turns, motioning the players in with two fingers. his eyes briefly catch yours making your eyes widen. the team clusters around their coach, heads bowed slightly, listening even though there’s nothing to hear. he speaks low anyway. you circle to the side, careful, capturing the curve of his shoulder, the way his jaw tightens when he focuses.

toji’s gaze lifts again, slow and deliberate, landing on you.

why does he keep doing that?!

it’s brief. just a glance that lingers a fraction longer, his eyes flick from your face to the camera in your hands and back again, like he’s remembering the photos he saw on your camera.

you feel heat blooming under your skin, pulse kicking hard enough to throw you off guard. you steady your hands, inhaling subtly, pretending you don’t feel the way the air shifts when he turns slightly…when he ends up closer than before, just at the edge of your frame.

“okay, we’re good,” the manager calls.

the team breaks, the players disperse, but toji stays put for a beat longer, adjusting his sleeve, posture relaxed again, unreadable.

you lower your camera only when it’s over, breath leaving you in a quiet rush you didn’t realize you were holding. you don’t see him glance at you when you step back to check your photos. you also don’t notice the small, satisfied curve of his mouth.

not until you’re feeling a gentle, firm, hand on your waist, and a low voice right against your ear, “say hi next time. you’re not a stranger anymore.”

your body immediately catches on fire, eyes snapping to the man like a magnet, heart slamming against your ribs as you watch him pull back, emerald eyes meeting yours.

“right, sweetheart?”

your face stings, as you nod quickly, heat pooling deep in your stomach, feeling his thumb caress your hip over your shirt. your lips part, mind dizzy as you glance as his strong forearms, he’s towering over you, slightly leaning down to speak to you in quiet whispers.

“I’ll see c’ya tomorrow, yeah,” he gives your waist a squeeze as he greets you with a kiss to your cheek like some gentleman. then he walks away. and if you weren’t a mess before, the casual glance he shoots over his shoulder has a third arrow piercing your heart.

you couldn’t contain it anymore. you were consumed by this man. every waking thought was spent daydreaming about him— his voice, his eyes, his hands, his demeanor. it was intoxicating.

all for you to show up in the lockerroom, the next day, hours before the match. the team is either dressed in their uniforms, or still shirtless, huddling around the white board as they prep for the game.

geto was the second to notice you, after gojo. both their eyes twinkling as they walk up to you. “they gave you the pass,” geto nods to the press badge around your neck.

you nod, glancing around the lockerroom. it felt tense, the aura suspenseful as the time ticks closer to when they walk onto the pitch.

“get your vip shots, but you better get my photo,” geto hushes in your ear.

“and mine!” gojo blurts, just as a certain coach is stepping out of the steam.

and you feel it. the towel wrapped low around his waist, skin still slick with water that traces unhurried paths down his sculpted torso. his hair is darker when it’s wet, heavier, droplets slide from it and disappear along the hard lines of his shoulders.

your eyes catch his muscles moving when he walks, hard mass, that shifts beneath skin without effort. you swallow thickly, body heating up, stomach fluttering as you catch the trail of dark coarse hair leading down from his navel, and disappearing beneath the towel. your eyes follow it to the bulge you know is under there. your cheeks sting at the thought of it.

you were utterly shameless. as if the two men standing beside aren’t still talking to you. but they immediately recognize the shift in your attitude and notice the steam leaving your face. gojo stifles a laugh, as geto sighs. you’re hopeless.

your eyes follow the scars you’ve never seen before. the old pale marks catch the light, etched across his side, his pecs, and back, proof of some life before this one. then he turns just enough and your heart stutters, and your panties soak.

ink blooms along his ribs where the towel dips. the tattoos are sharp and intimate, black against his skin that’s still flushed from the heat. you’ve photographed him dozens of times, from every angle, but you’ve never seen a peak of a tattoo.

“how wet are you right now?”

the comment snaps you back, glaring straight at the crystal ocean eyes narrowed in amusement.

“don’t talk to me like that,” you huff, “I’m working.” your attitude really is night and day when it comes to anyone else and toji.

gojo blushes, “I love mean girls.”

you roll your eyes.

“what’re you two doing? get the fuck over here,” sukuna snaps.

the team huddles as the fifteen minute timer starts. and that’s what you should be photographing, but instead you glance back. toji is now pulling up his pants, wet hair still dripping down the expanse of his back. his eyes catch yours for a second, gaze flicking to your camera, taunting…

his hand subtly cups his crotch, squeezing his girth just to present you with a size, one that has your lips parting with a shaky exhale, heart pounding as you glance between his emerald eyes and the way his forearms flex when he fixes the waistband of his boxers, pulling the material down just a bit that you catch more of the thick patch of hair at his base seeing a peak of it, before he’s fixing himself again.

and once he zips his pants up, glancing at the team as they huddle for some words from the captain before coach steps in, toji walks to you. just a few feet away, your eyes widen in surprise, heart stuttering as you watch him lean down to greet you with a kiss to your cheek, again!

he’s acting like you’re familiar even though this is just your third interaction with him…but maybe you are…

“thought I told you to say hi next time,” he says against your ear, pulling away.

your face heats up, “you were….changing.”

“so?”

you gulp, eyes flicking between his, heart pounding. he’s so close. your breath catches when his scent hits your nose, sandalwood, oak and something deeper under it. his stubble is darker than yesterday, rougher along his jaw, and you realize you’ve been staring for too long when the heat creeps up your neck.

he doesn’t move away though, he stands beside you, attention forward on sukuna as he speaks. focused, and so aware of you’re attention he has to hold back a smirk. and maybe he doesn’t mind messing with you, so his hand remains at your lower back, light, almost absent, but there.

your stomach flips, attention gone. you try to listen, you do. sukuna is talking about positioning, about discipline, about not getting sloppy or something and the room is locking in around you, everyone leaning in. these would be great photos—but all you can think about is how close he is.

how his hand hasn’t moved, every small shift makes your pulse jump. you keep your eyes forward. you don’t trust yourself to look at him again.

and that gives toji the opportunity to take you in. his pupils dilate just a fraction as his gaze travels down your body. his eyes zero in on the multiple open buttons of your tight dress shirt. you’re not even hiding yourself, and the sliver of skin that peaks between your pants and shirt doesn’t help.

his hand remains over your clothes, heat settling in his stomach when you take a deeper breath and your tits push up, and his eyes shamelessly look down your shirt from his towering height. fuck, he wants a look at that pretty ass too—

“coach! you’re up!” sukuna’s voice cuts through everything, snapping toji back. your gaze whips with it, catching him off guard as you wait for his next move like anything he touches is gold.

he controls himself, giving your waist that same squeeze before his hand leaves you just like that.

you push down the feeling that hits immediately, sharp and cold. but now you can finally breathe properly when he steps away. he moves past the players without rushing — a few of the boys let their eyes roam over you— toji adjusts his sleeve ignoring the feeling bubbling up when he notices them. and then he’s at the front.

he doesn’t raise his voice, doesn’t need to now, but he usually gets to that point around the halfway mark. but this was the first time you’re seeing him speak in private…and when he speaks, they all listen—every single one of them.

gojo notices, gossip second nature to him. but the quick glance your way already has a grin tugging at his mouth before he nudges geto. geto follows his gaze, then sukuna does too, just briefly—and it’s obvious. painfully obvious. the way your expression softens, the way your attention doesn’t wavers. it’s written all over you.

“she’s actually really hot,” gojo comments.

though you wish you could stand there forever, the time finally comes for the team to head to the pitch, and that’s when the chaos begins.

not just on the field…but off it.

the press box is packed, bodies press against you shoulder to shoulder. the field below is relentless. everything fast, and aggressive, and loud enough that the noise bleeds through everything. you always forget how overstimulating and exhilarating semifinal matches are. but you remember the deal you made with the three stars.

your camera moves with them, tracking their plays, snapping multiple shots of them without hesitation, and then catching the moment when things go wrong...

sukuna gets taken down hard during a penalty shot—and there’s no whistle. no call.

you’re already shooting when the other team pushes, then scores, and the stadium erupts, but sukuna is on his feet, shouting. the goal should be discounted. the captain was known to be a hot head, but even you could see that the tackle he received was completely brushed off by the ref and he was right.

everyone watches as the team moves forward in defense of sukuna, but also holding him back. the other side meets them just as hard. the crowd shouts as they watch the players shove, yell, and slam into each other—and through it all you keep shooting. you catch toji too, voice cutting through the chaos as he orders his players to pull sukuna back.

the press talk amongst themselves as halftime quickly breaks up the argument. your feet quickly carry you out of the press box, towards the locker room.

“no locker room access.”

your jaw tightens immediately irritation flaring hot and sharp.

“I have a different badge,” you show the security guard your press ID. the one geto gave you.

“no press allowed, do i need to repeat myself?” the man snaps.

your irritation ticks at your side. fine. whatever. the second you step back, your mind is already running, already circling back to geto. you scoff under your breath, shaking your head as you pace along the corridor, camera swinging lightly at your side.

seriously? all that talk, all that stupid ass convincing, and for what? you were supposed to be there. that was the whole point! you roll your eyes, heat building the longer you think about it, every step feeding into this petty irritation instead of cooling it. were you overreacting —yes, but whatever—if he’s not holding up his end, then why should you?

by the time you make it back up, you’re done. done thinking about it, done entertaining it, done with their stupid deal.

the second half starts and you fall back into rhythm. camera up, focus sharp, and attention on only one thing now, the ball….

gojo and geto drift near the press box occasionally, clearly expecting something, acknowledgment, a photo, but you don’t even bat an eye. not a look, not a flicker, hell, they might as well not exist.

it’s almost satisfying. almost.

the final whistle blows and the stadium erupts, the first leg ended in a draw, preparing for next game to see who’ll continue. cameras around you go wild, capturing every second of it. the quiet annoyance of both teams, the noise in the crowd. but you don’t. you lower yours, expression flat, already turning away. it’s petty. a little unfair, but still, you walk.

“you’re not coming to the locker room?” gojo’s voice follows you, footsteps quick behind yours as you head in the opposite direction.

“why would i?” you snap, sharp, not even slowing. “am i even allowed,” there’s an obvious clip in your tone that has gojo confused.

“what’re you talking about?”

“deal’s off.”

huh?!????

gojo barely has time to react, before you’re walking away.

baffled and utterly confused, gojo makes his way back to the locker rooms. the energy is stiff, sukuna is grumbling under his breath about how embarrassing it was to end their first leg in a draw, geto is lounged beside his bag scrolling on his phone, and toji is in the corner talking to the managers. ugh, does no one care that their personal photographer isn’t taking photos of them???

they do care.

especially when the next paper comes out and the article is filled with photos taken by other people, not you!

“WHY THE FUCK DO I LOOK LIKE THAT!??” sukuna shouts, entire body fumming as they all sit outside during practice. sukuna is not the only one pissed, geto is practically seething because there isn’t even a single photo of him or gojo.

“what is this girl’s problem?! i thought you idiots made a deal with her?!” sukuna snaps, already in a foul mood, but now it’s worse.

geto licks his teeth, jaw ticking, “we did.”

“I told you guys she was pissed that she didn’t come in during halftime,” gojo throws, as if anyone was listening to him after their shitty match.

“so she throws a tantrum because she didn’t see coach’s dick during halftime?” sukuna clips.

“she looked super hot when she was all pissed though,” gojo throws, “she’d definitely go for me after she realizes how old coach is.”

“what’s wrong with you?” geto rolls his eyes, confused how gojo can talk about your looks when you screwed them over. even if he maybe also finds you attractive, it doesn’t negate your shitty attitude.

gojo throws his hands up in defensive, “I’m just calling dibs now.”

toji, just a few feet away, strides over after noticing the group no longer doing drills. “what’s the hold up!” he grunts, also in a shit mood because of the embarrassing match and then overheating what gojo had said.

“your stalker fucked us over,” geto snaps, eyes burning into the school paper. “she didn’t even get a pic of you.”

gojo’s eyes light up, “oh shit, yeah—she’s definitely over you!”

the paper then hits toji’s chest, his brows furrowing as he holds it up. his eyes glance over the sports section, and just as geto had stated, there wasn’t a single photo of him, unless you’re counting the wide shot of the field and you see him standing in the corner, but it definitely was a starch contrast from the streak you’d created.

“so?” toji tosses the paper like it’s nothing, “you guys playing for the cameras or because you want to win?!”

the men baffled, gasp and scoff. “we want to win!”

“then get off your fucking asses! I don’t have time to be doing this shit with you all!” he snaps aggressively, uncharacteristically pissed off, whether it’s because of the teams misdirected frustrations, or something else. either way, the school paper is long forgotten beside their bags and the team is splitting into practice teams.

it doesn’t matter…

it doesn’t matter that you made a deal with suguru geto and satoru gojo. and the captain pushed you to seal that deal with the information about coach — and they broke it. none of it matters! you still should’ve taken those photos, especially when you’re receiving an earful from your editor, and then sulking through the week of classes.

“what’s your problem,” your friend, shoko, cuts in, snapping you back to the campus day festival. you were once again sulking on the picnic bench, ice cream melting in the cup as you stare off.

“you’re gonna get annoyed…” you mutter, brows pinched in agony.

for most passing by, they immediately steered clear of you, not only did you carry a lethal rbf, your words of “agony” really translates to, you’ll rip someone’s head off and if looks could kill, everyone would be dead. it was quite funny, considering how you’re pretty sweet when you want to be, shoko quietly thinks. still, most would rather avoid you, thanking the heavens that you stay behind the camera so you don’t interact directly with people.

“don’t start,” shoko groans, piecing together the not so subtle mystery.

you frown, “i didn’t even say anything!” you whine even more, glaring at your ice cream. your pretty camera sits on the table beside you, collecting dust when you should be photographing this event. “I just screwed myself over,” your tongue laps at the dripping ice cream.

“agreed.”

your glare snaps to your friend, to which she brushes off with a shrug.

“you should’ve taken those photos,” she starts.

“I know…”

“then you would’ve made your editor happy,”

“I know…”

“and then you wouldn’t have to do this event.”

“I know.”

“and you’d have more weird pictures of coach toji.”

your heart drops. eyes snapping to shoko. “what?!”

shoko goes mute. suddenly realizing what she said. “nothing.”

“pictures?” you repeat, “I have weird pictures of the coach?? I don’t—why would you even say that??“ you’re not subtle at all. and shoko feels guilty at your horrible lying skills, but still…she confesses…

“you uploaded photos to your drive, when we’d study together,” she tries to hold in her laugh as heat crawls up your neck, “like more than once.”

you glance away, eyes flicking over your camera, “that’s it?”

shoko raises a brow. “yeah…what do you mean?”

you look back, “like that’s how you know, it’s not like you heard from someone else or anything?”

shoko shakes her head, “no, who else would know?”

your cheeks are burning at this point, and it was written all over your face now. the realization hit shoko in seconds. “no…” you’re silent. “does the coach know about your photos?”

you don’t want to make eye contact.

“how?!!”

even though it happened days ago, why is it now starting to feel even more embarrassing. maybe because of your cool headed friends reaction— “it was an accident.”

“how did he find out though?” shoko pushes.

you cringe, “well…” you swallow, “when I first spoke to him, remember…” shoko nods, “I let him use my camera because he was interested.” you pause, reliving the humiliation all over again. “then he kept swiping to see the pics, and just found them…” your hands slap your face, “that’s not bad!”

shoko is getting second hand embarrassment, “dude.”

“STOP IM GONNA KILL MYSELF!!” you cry out, humiliation seeping from your pores.

shoko is trying not to laugh, but it’s quite hard not too, especially when you’re groaning like that. “what was his reaction?”

“I obviously said it was an accident, and he was like whatever and seemed fine,” you explain quickly, trying to cool the situation. “It’s not bad!”

“okay okay!!” shoko laughs, trying to calm your reaction. however, shoko knows about your huge crush, what she didn’t know is about a deal her two friends made with you. heck, she didn’t even know that you interacted with them. not until those two men are standing directly behind you, sweaty and pissed. “what the hell—“

“I guess you don’t know how to keep your word,” geto spits, bag dropping aggressively on the bench beside you.

you jump, then, your eyes flick over your shoulder, immediately rolling them when you see them. you turn back to shoko.

geto snaps. “there wasn’t a single photo of us!”

“not my problem,” you scoff, attitude returning in seconds, shoko completely used to it. but she’s shocked that you know gojo and geto. “not like you guys even played well.”

gojo’s vein bulges, “we played fucking good, we didn’t lose!”

“you didn’t win,” you shrug, cold.

that’s when gojo and geto both glance up at shoko. shock crossing their expressions. “you know her?!” they both point down at you.

shoko raises a brow, “she’s my friend.”

“she’s a bitch—“ geto spits, just to receive the worst glare of his life from you, but he just rolls his eyes. “how the fuck do you know each other?”

“I just told you she’s my friend. you’re the ones that screwed her over.” shoko takes your side.

gojo gasps, “we didn’t screw her over! she screwed us over! you saw the paper this week—not a single highlight!”

you glance at shoko, ignoring the men behind you, “how do you know them?”

“we went to high school together,” shoko throws with a bored wave.

frustrated, geto straddles the bench facing you, his hand falls on top of your camera, immediately making you snap your attention to him.

“hey—“

“listen. our deal was that you get access and then we get photos, you didn’t finish your job,” he keeps a grip on your camera. shoko frowns.

“you guys didn’t give me access—i got like ten minutes before the match, then I couldn’t even go in during halftime where everyone was pissed, so what’s the point?” you snap, getting in his face.

“the point is that has nothing to do with me!” geto shouts, your eyes pierce his in two, but neither of you back down.

“it literally does though!”

“guys,” shoko and gojo attempt at intervening, but neither of you will back down. especially when geto won’t let go of your camera.

“let go,” you seethe, hand on the camera as geto flexes, grip strengthening around it.

your heart pounds against your chest, the hot spring sun beats over the four of you, sweat building on your neck while geto scoffs. “you better take those photos of us this week—“

“or what?” you glare, “are you seriously threatening me?” you were dripping with ego and confidence, except for the fact that your eyes kept darting to your camera, your poor, expensive, beautiful camera—

“is this your first time being threatened—“

“the fuck.”

the deep, intimidating voice breaks the argument in seconds. geto’s eyes widen as he feels the gravity taken away from him and being lifted off the seat. the collar of his jersey tightens around none other than toji’s brutal grip.

your eyes break into hearts, grasping your camera before it clatters back on the table, glancing up to see geto gripping his coach’s forearm.

“since when do you fucking shout at girls. you?!” toji barks, baffled. sukuna sure, gojo maybe, but geto?!

“I wasn’t fucking shouting, we were talking,” geto tsks, neck red from embarrassment.

toji shoves him back. geto slams on the bench. you hadn’t realized it but they all looked like they just finished practice, geto and gojo both still in practice uniforms and duffle bags, and coach toji wearing his usual black cargos, and that compression shirt that left nothing to the imagination.

geto scowls, rubbing his back in pain.

“you were shouting, that’s why i came over—“

“she was shouting at me!”

“so what!?”

the table is quiet. a few passerby’s glance over before quickly walking away. it isn’t a shock to know how unbelievably hot your face is right now. especially when coach toji continues his stern lecture to geto.

“you’re defending some girl that can’t keep her word, mind you,” geto mutters, flashing you a glare—his breath catches. you’re not even looking at him!! shoko stifles another laugh along with gojo, because you really were, truly, unbelievable.

how can you look at someone like that?!? like he’s some idol?! him! a musty ass college coach?!

but none of it mattered, not when toji’s attention shifts to you!!! a warm heat floods between your legs, as your lips part. then suddenly, you glance away…

“I actually did shout too…” you confess, taking accountability. “and kinda screwed them over.”

gojo, geto, and shoko, stare at you in shock.

toji sighs, like some grown ass man (which he is), his hand settles on his hip as the other scratches his hair like he’s surrounded by immature children and figuring out what the fuck to do with you all. so he decides to confess too…

“i told security not to allow any outsiders.”

your heart drops.

“including you.”

oh shit.

the three audience members immediately glance at you, and what none of them, not a single one, expected, is to suddenly see the your eyes tear up.

toji felt a sharp twist in his gut, eyes widening for a moment, before sighing. “it wasn’t personal.”

your throat feels dry, unable to look away until now. a tear hits your camera. “how is that not personal,” you whisper, bottom lip trembling.

shoko’s brows pinch in hurt, at least out of everyone, she knows how much and how long you’ve liked this man. and then sulking and now— she knows you’re absolutely shattered.

“I needed the team to focus, and you’re press,” he states like some cold fact, and that hurt even more.

your grip tightens on the camera. “but…” your not a stranger anymore…. but you can’t get the words out…your heart pounds loudly in your ears, the heat surrounding you felt suffocating, and your head was growing dizzier by the second. and the only thing spinning in your mind was how fucking embarrassing this is.

“don’t be upset.”

you manage a small nod, though another tear falls on the camera, and your body freezes. “how can i not be upset?” your small voice catches toji off guard.

you’re standing up, eyes hot with tears, walking past the esteemed coach.

“wait,” he catches your wrist, “if you have something to say don’t just run away.”

you’re fuming, your pretty chest rises and falls, the disappointment turning into built up anger, “I don’t have anything to say right now, and it’s stupid—“ your hand twists in his grip. “let go.”

he does.

you’re practically heaving, tempted to turn away, especially when the dryness in your throat gets worse. the stinging behind your eyes burns like hell as you try to rip your gaze away from the towering man. you really are stupid…

toji wets his lip, head tilting as if disinterested, but the cooling in his chest says otherwise. why does he have a weak spot for women?

“we can talk.”

his words hang in the air. a silent, open invitation for her. it’s a clear sign of his guilt for making this cute college girl cry. he was too blunt, forgetting she isn’t one of his boys.

your hand comes up to the bridge of your nose, quietly recentering yourself as this older coach watches. your shoulders rise with a deep exhale, then inhale.

pull yourself together…

you nod. cute.

you swallow the embarrassing lump in your throat, clearing your throat. “can we talk while walking…I have to work,” your usual clipped tone used for everyone except him, comes out, but he can hear the slight shakiness.

“sure.”

gojo, geto, and shoko are left in utter shock. it’s not until you and toji completely disappear into the crowd, do they slowly exchange looks.

“what…”

“the fuck,” geto finishes shoko’s sentence.

gojo stares baffled, “did we just set them up?!”

geto’s brow jumps up, “why is he always saving her like some knight?? and he was the one that screwed us all over!!”

gojo shakes his head in agreement, “nah for real, what the hell, blaming us but it’s all him.”

geto slouches back in the picnic table, rolling his eyes. “still,” he tsks, “she didn’t have to be so bitchy and not take our pictures. isn’t it her fucking job—“

“hey!”

“ow!” geto feels a slap upside the head from brunette, her eyes harsh. “what the hell!”

“don’t call girls bitches what’s wrong with you?!” shoko huffs, baffled by geto’s attitude.

gojo snickers beside the man, “he’s been like this since he met her.”

“I haven’t,” he grits, rolling his eyes at the thought of you. “she’s just a—she just gets on my nerves.”

“really because she reminds me of you,” shoko cuts him off. geto’s eyes widen, as gojo breaks into a loud laugh.

“WHAT?!”

“oh god BAHAHA she does!” gojo’s obnoxious laugh sounds like knives stabbing his ears.

shoko hums, “she has that rbf look, intimidating, very blunt, but also so cute with her friends.”

“cute?” geto frowns.

gojo smiles, “it comes out when you’re hanging out with ussss.” gojo and shoko dramatically strike a cute pose. geto tsks.

the campus was packed with students and faculty roaming to booths and small events. it was the university’s 102nd anniversary, and as memorable as it is for the students to enjoy the activities during this nice spring day, you couldn’t bring yourself to give a shit.

not only did your editor scream at you all week, still pissed about the shit photos you took during the match, he also threatened removal if you didn’t take good photos during this event. and now, after sulking with shoko, then procrastinating some more, you decided you’d be able to take such fanatic pictures while your idol and crush trails beside you….sure.

toji lets out another sigh, hands in his pockets as he stands to your left watching you snap some shots of laughing students beside a booth.

“it’s not a big deal,” you mutter, behind the camera. toji notices the twitch in your fingers. “I overreacted, so it’s whatever.”

toji wets his lip, “sukuna and a couple others jus’ get jumpy with cameras.”

you hum, looking at the photos you just took. “I understand.”

“I didn’t know about this deal you did with geto,” toji admits, hand instinctively coming to your waist and guiding you away from some unaware boys shouting and laughing. your cheeks flush, stepping away from his hand. toji notices. “we didn’t have a good game anyways.”

“I know, so it whatever. not a big deal,” you sigh, heat crawling up your neck. this is so embarrassing, so embarrassing! ugh you really don’t know how to keep a cool head at all when it comes to this coach. you overreacted during the match, then blamed geto for screwing you over, then almost cried because the coach locked you out on purpose, and now—

“I feel bad.”

your heart stops.

toji glances at your manicured nails holding your camera, your cute necklaces dangling on your exposed chest, cleavage glistening from the heat. but then his eyes flick up, and you’re staring at him like he’s holding the entire world.

“I didn’t mean to make you upset,” his voice is softer, gentler, nothing like how you’ve heard him for months, shouting, harsh. your stomach heats up, face stinging.

his hand, unexpectedly, comes up, feeling your hair between his fingers. “you work hard, and all your pictures come out so nice…” the compliment hits your heart. “but I couldn’t risk the boys getting distracted.”

your face suddenly twists, lips pursing and jutting out just a bit, your brows pinch. your dewy makeup makes you look like a fucking doll, he thinks. “I was jus’ gonna take photos in the corner, not interview them,” you reply harshly.

“you saw how they are when they talk to you,” he cuts in. your brow quirks, noticing his sharp inhale. “sweetheart, you’re hot.”

your face bursts into flames, pupils turning to literal swirls, and brain getting fried in seconds.

what?!

your reaction was priceless. toji controls his smirk, thumb brushing your adorable cheek, glancing at your glossy lips then your eyes. “I know you’re a professional, but most of those boys aren’t, y’ understand?”

you nod, cheeks sizzling, you’re surprised his thumb isn’t burning.

“so you see why I couldn’t allow you in the locker room then, and i won’t next time,” he watches you nod again. god, you’re fucking precious.

then, your tongue wets your bottom lip before speaking… “are they the only ones that would’ve been distracted?”

shit. can a grown man really pop a boner that fast?

toji’s chest heats up, glancing between your pretty eyes filled with hope. this isn’t the first time a younger girl has crushed on him, and it also isn’t the first time he’s nice to one. but what really got him, is the way you’re maintaining eye contact, almost afraid to look away, and you’re holding your ground against him.

“no,” he admits, “they’re not the only ones.”

oh. your lips curve into a smile toji hasn’t seen before, and his hand flexes in response. you look like you’re going to eat him alive right there, and he’d let you, no questions asked—

“that’s good to hear,” you pull away. you touch your heated cheek with the back of your hand, wetting your lip as you glance over the coach’s flushed face. “your cheeks are red.”

what?! his eyes bulge, catching you off guard as you break into a loud laugh.

“tch,” he looks away, his own hand rubbing down his face. it really is burning out here. but even so, his emerald eyes look through his fingers at this pretty college girl laughing at him and he doesn’t know why his chest warms at the sight.

“I can buy you ice cream. I feel bad now that you had to explain yourself when I was just being the unprofessional one,” you start, already leading him to the nearest ice cream booth.

your camera hangs over your shoulder as you point to your favorite flavor than glance up at him, he points at the cookies n cream. “oh! I love cookies n cream,” you say, reaching for your phone to pay.

ding.

your eyes widen as toji pays instead.

“wha—it was supposed to be my treat, man,” you huff, accepting the cone he gives you, hand on your lower back as he guides you away from the booth. neither of you batting an eye to the multiple people gawking at the renowned coach of their soccer team, walking around with the hot, rude, student photographer.

“as if I’d let you pay,” he snorts.

your brows pinch as you take a lick of your ice cream, the cool sensation leveling your body temperature. your eyes narrow at him as he enjoys his ice cream, grateful to have something that cools the heat building up under his skin. “so not fair,” you mutter.

“how come?”

the two of you walk across the quad, sun still beating down.

“I wanted to use it as an apology,” you say, “I said that.”

“you don’t need to apologize,” he shrugs, casual, unbothered. you huff again. this time toji smiles, scar twitching up. “you can pay next time.”

your heart skips a beat, stomach doing a stupid flip.

“….next time.”

toji catches the smile behind your cone, his eyes trailing over the ice cream coating your tongue, your pretty hand wrapped around the waffle as your bracelets clank around your wrists.

“there’s other things you need to apologize for,” he coolly says, finding a bench and dropping his weight, eyeing you as you sit close beside him. unashamed.

your brow quirks, eyes narrowing, full body facing him, “what other things?”

toji shrugs, “we can talk about it next time.”

“but I can’t just be left in suspense, that’ll give me anxiety?!”

toji snorts, loud. his big tongue is finishing the ice cream so quick he’s already eating the cone. “don’t be anxious,” he says with his mouth full.

you tsk, rolling your eyes, and you don’t notice the twinkle in the older coach’s eyes. he can definitely see geto’s point about your attitude, but if he leans over—

your eyes go wide. stomach flipping.

he takes a bold bite of your ice cream, emerald eyes shut, and thick lashes kissing his flushed cheeks. your heart feels like it’ll break from your ribs, then, he opens his eyes. he doesn’t pull away yet, instead his tongue cleans his lips, humming in low delight. the heat around you wasn’t helping your own body temperature as it skyrockets.

“taste’s sweeter than mine,” his voice his huskier than before, catching you by surprise, and the heat pools between your legs.

“i—“ you can’t even form words! your eyes won’t tear away from his lips, and your chest is moving erratically because he’s so close.

“do you want a taste of mine. I took a bite without asking yo—“

his words cut the minute your lips press against his.

shock prevents him from reacting, eyes going wide. you gave in so quick, sure he was teasing, but still. he could feel the certainty in your kiss, along with the warmth, and anxiety. after a long ten seconds you pull away—

you pant against his lips, chest rising and falling, brain scrambled. “i jus’…” your heart is beating loudly in your ears. mind trying to keep up with what your body just did. you kissed him. you kissed the coach. the one you’ve been idolizing and photographing for months—

“we can do it again.” his free hand tilts your chin up, lips hovering over yours again. his breath is warm. “kiss me.”

you do.

this time you’re a little bolder. your lips connect with his, soft again, sucking his bottom lip, skillfully. slowly. he brushes your jaw with his thumb, humming in delight just like he did with the ice cream. but the sound goes straight to your core. completely unbothered by the rowdiness of the uni day activities around you. your free hand rests on his thigh, leaning more into the kiss.

“open,” you murmur against his lips. you can feel the the shit-eating smirk that breaks his face, groaning just low enough to make the heat furiously spread under your skin.

then, his lips part.

his tongue immediately connects with yours. caressing the wet muscle. he tastes the ice cream, delving a little more. it was just so easy taking control, and your little whines are too sweet for him to stop. his jaw opens wider, taking the lead as you follow. his hand cups the side of your face, unexpectedly possessive, ignoring the alarms sounding off in his head.

you had a crush, you’re fucking adorable, and you kissed him. plus, you make these cute sounds when he shoves his tongue against yours, thumb pressing into your cheek. how could he resist?

your grip against his thigh tightens, his back is pressed fully against the bench, while you were practically leaning over him, trying to swallow him whole.

“breathe,” he mutters, lips hovering close, waiting for you to inhale. his scar quirks up, you’re so cute. his thumb brushes your cheekbone again, eyes glancing between your fluttering lashes. “if we keep kissing, I’ll have a problem.”

your face burns, eyes darting down to the tent pressing up near your hand. and unlike toji, you let your second ice cream of the day melt and fall to the ground. you were a mess. you carefully lean back in your seat, the sudden space between you allowing you to take another deep breath. being near coach toji is intoxicating. it’s not that you didn’t feel like yourself, but you definitely throw all common sense out the door when he’s in front of you.

“are you staying to see the booths and stuff?” you clear your throat, trying to ease your erratic heartbeat.

toji finds it cute. his hand once cupping your face, slides down to brush the hair off your shoulder, fingers brushing the multiple earrings that dangle from your piercings. you’re much more stylish than he is…your accessories, the cute tank top that hugs your breasts, and embroidered low rise flared jeans.

“nah, gotta drive back home so i can take my son to practice.”

toji eases, not a single thing can bother him. it was a routine, the subtle throw away line about having a son that scared off many young women, or had them wanting a one night stand with the older dilf. so his eyes flick over you, the second he finishes his sentence.

your freeze.

your blood runs cold, eyes flicking down to his ring finger.

even if you’re looking, you know he isn’t married. you know. you’ve been photographing him for months, and not a single time have you ever seen him daunt a ring on his finger.

“there’s no one waiting for him at home?” you question, wetting your lip.

toji’s fingers slide from your earrings to the dried ice cream on your chin. “nah, if I’m late he’ll go to his friends house.”

you nod, anxiety slowly dissipating. “how old is he?”

“ten.”

your eyes light up, “my nephew is just a year older, that’s when they get really fun to hang out with,” your voice is so light and sweet, toji has to shove down the weird somersault his stomach does.

“really?” toji is not convinced. “all my son does is give me attitude and bully everything i do.”

you laugh, waving your hand, “yeah they get super opinionated, but it’s funny—trust trust he’s just doing it because you’re an easy target.”

“I’m an easy target.”

you nod, waving a hand again, “your his dad, my brothers and i were the same to our parents.”

brothers? toji doesn’t comment how that peaks his interest, but he naturally asks, “how many siblings do you have?”

“three older brothers,” you nod.

damn….toji hums, that explains your attitude and how you can handle geto’s bitchy moods. what also quietly settles in his mind is how your oldest brother would probably be around his age, considering your nephew is a year older than megumi. is that why you’re easily holding a conversation this long…maybe the age gap isn’t that big then…

“they were so freakin bossy, definitely why i pushed to dorm away from them,” you huff, toji zoning back into your rambling. it was cute watching you talk mindlessly, hands waving making your bracelets clank against each other. the sweat glistened across your skin, making you look eternal, which is amusing since you’re just talking.

but still, toji is the one to lean up this time. his hand settling on your waist as a anchor and he presses a firm kiss to your warm cheek.

your glossy lips part in shock, heart stuttering again. unbothered, toji casually stands up, towering over you as his hand gently settles atop your head. “i have’ta get going, but I’ll see you next week for the match. I’ll also let em know you can come in before and after the game, but not during halftime. okay?”

you nod.

“I’ll see ya’ sweetheart.”

and with a wink, he solidifies the fourth arrow straight through your heart.

—

it was very likely that your entire week looked like sunshine and rainbows, all because you had a full on make out session with your idol on a park bench. you couldn’t bring yourself to care much about anything else—well except for your job. you had to scramble to get photos after toji left, afraid of staying on your editor’s bad side.

luckily you pulled through, and convinced him to keep you on for the semi final match this coming weekend.

which leads you to your current blissful state. watching toji speak to the team in the locker rooms. unlike last time, you grabbed different shots, smiling every time toji glanced at the camera, but frowning any time any of the other boys looked.

“surprise surprise, couldn’t stay away too long,” gojo coo’s after the team breaks to finish changing.

“don’t bother me or I won’t take photos of you,” you throw, eyes flicking up at the tall man.

gojo pouts, “but I’m just talking to you,” his words drag.

geto is scowling a few feet away, jaw tightening and relaxing, until he finally comes up to you. your attitude shifts, eyes narrowing up. geto holds eye contact, chest rising with a subtle inhale. but once he exhales, his shoulders ease, and his eyes close, the fakest smile you’ve ever seen graces his naturally attractive features.

“I’m looking forward to seeing your photos after the game.”

your lips purse, brow quirking. “yeah…”

geto leaves. shortly after, the team gets called out. gojo utters the same line geto had just said, but much more cheerfully, all while toji walks up to you. brow furrowing at the two athletes as they walk towards the exit.

“they still bothering you?”

your eyes light up the moment you see him. “s’ fine,” your pretty lips pull into an easy smile, unexpectedly warming the coach’s heart. is it that easy to smile because of him?

“I’ll tell them to fuck off again,” his voice is naturally deep, hand subconsciously roaming up to the strap of your camera.

you smile, “okay.”

god, you’re really cute. his hand cups your cheek, leaning down and easily locking lips with you.

you’re immediately caught off guard, but his hand is so firm on your cheek, you just melt. your lashes flutter shut, leaning in more. he’s so big and tall. your cheeks sting, humming against his lips, trying to fight off the butterflies in your stomach. but it’s worse when he pulls away, and your heart leaps into your throat as he brushes his rough thumb against your lip, dragging the spit across the plumpness.

“I’ll c’ya after.” he winks.

you barely feel your feet when you step back out onto the field. your camera in hand, strap tight around your neck, everything exactly where it should be, and still, your entire body is giddy.

toji….toji toji toji—

you press your lips together, trying to fight it down, but it’s useless. your mouth keeps twitching, threatening to break into a smile and you can’t help it! he kissed you. twice now! like it was nothing—

you snap a shot.

sukuna’s first goal. the team and stadium erupts, and you’re already capturing it, body moving before your thoughts can catch up. you don’t need your editor screaming at you this time, so you shift angles, crouch lower, shoot through. geto lines up for a penalty shot, and you catch that too. the strike, the follow-through, and the way the net snaps back as the ball hits. you don’t miss a second of it.

but…inevitably…your lens drifts…to him. you can’t help it!

toji’s on the sidelines, where he always is. his sleeves are pushed up again, pacing, shouting, running a hand through his hair. you catch the flex of his arm, his biceps bulge and you feel heat pooling between your legs. you catch the drag of his palm across his broad huge chest, the set of his jaw when gojo almost tackles into another player.

you shouldn’t be taking this many photos of him. you know that, but you take them anyway. your chest feels tight with every picture, cheeks still burning, and your smile impossible to get rid of.

halftime comes and goes, and you don’t even try to get into the locker room this time. instead, you linger with the rest of the press, nodding along to conversations, camera hanging loose in your hands. you don’t care. not really. not when your mind keeps replaying it—his hand on your face, the way he looked at you after, the wink.

the second half starts and you’re back in position immediately. getting more action shots of the players—ugh but you keep stealing other moments too…small unnecessary ones. his biceps when he folds his arms. the scratch of his chest. the tilt of his head as he watches the field.

your thoughts don’t stop. why did he kiss you? why did he kiss you again? what is that supposed to mean? is he going to kiss you again??

the spiral doesn’t fully come to an end until the pitch breaks out into celebration. the team is off to the finals!

managers and the rest of the team flood the pitch as the stadium breaks out. you do your best to get the best shots of the team together, and you stay after to capture them talking to journalists, and press. unaware of the coach that slips away.

you follow the team and a couple managers back to the locker room as they continue celebrating. you can’t help the smile about how happy they are, they played well.

“how was the match?” geto corners you quickly.

“good,” you nod casually, fixing your flash. “you guys played really well.”

geto’s brow quirks. that’s nice….his lips purse. “I scored.” he mutters, glancing at the multiple piercings on your ear as you tuck a hair behind it.

“yeah, it was a nice shot,” your eyes flick over your camera before glancing up to meet his eyes, testing, “you wanna see?”

his eyes narrow again, “no.”

he’s quick to ignore your eye roll, as he points over his shoulder. “coach is calling for you.”

you can’t control the way your head whips to geto, then following the direction he’s pointing at. you don’t hesitate, your legs carry you across the locker room, and into the steamed shower room.

your heart hammers against your chest, putting the lens cap back on your camera and carefully sliding it off your shoulder, afraid to step further in until you put it back in your bag.

a single curtain is closed. shower running.

“coach toji?” your voice echos.

there a beat of silence, then…

“that you, sweetheart?”

you flush. controlling the smile that breaks your face as you hum, “yeah.”

the shower is still running, steam collecting in the room. your heart is beating erratically, you barely register anything aside from the fact that coach toji is definitely one hundred percent fully nude just a few feet away. his clothes are laid on his duffle on the bench beside the door.

“sweetheart?”

you jump. “yeah?”

“you gonna come in?”

you blink. again, then once more. then— “WHAT?”

your screech bounces off the tile floors, making you shrink at how loud you are. but it was a normal reaction. he just asked you if you wanted to come in? how else would you react—

“leave your things by my bag,” he doesn’t even react, like what he’s saying is the most casual kind of flirting. the kissing was one thing, but this…

your camera is zipped back in your bag, and in seconds, you’re peeling your panties off standing completely naked in the middle of a shower room. goosebumps break out, necklace and bracelets still on as your nipples harden.

what’re you doing, seriously?

one, this is highly unprofessional (whatever). two, you haven’t even gone a date with this man. and three, w-why would he even ask you to come in?!?! does he like you?! he does—he has too—

your bare feet pad against the steamed tiles until you reach the curtains. your hands won’t stop shaking, face burning hot, and lips parting as you let out a shaky exhale. then, you slowly pull back the curtains—

“come in before someone sees you,” is what you hear just as you’re being dragged into the steaming water, curtain pulled closed behind you.

the steam wraps around your skin instantly, thick and suffocating. your pretty nipples perk up in seconds. and standing right in front of you is the 6’5 two hundred pound man. water cascading down his body in slow, steady streams. you don’t even realize you’ve stopped breathing until your chest tightens, and your hands hover close to his forearm.

you’re so close.

your gaze is eye level with his broad solid chest, rising and falling slow and controlled like none of this affects him. like you standing in front of him naked is something he expected. but your too dazed to care. especially when you follow the droplets sliding over his muscles, catching the shallow lines as you continue going lower, and lower. the heat pools more obviously between your legs as you see the thick patch of dark coarse hair…then you see it.

your face burns hotter, stomach flipping hard making you even dizzier.

his cock twitches under your gaze. your knees almost buckle just at the sight. it’s huge. you have to suppress a whine, lashes fluttering as you feel a strong hand cup your chin.

“say hi first,” his voice is unbelievably deep, tearing your gaze away from the monster between his legs. his dark forest green eyes sink into you.

“hi.”

shit. he bites back a groan, eyes trailing down your naked body. nipples already perky and standing all pretty for him. his hand comes up, cupping the side of your face as he leans down, lips colliding with yours.

you whine immediately. your lips move together, tongues colliding as your hands slide up his muscular chest, feeling the deep ridges of his abs as he holds the side of your face, dominating the kiss.

it was overwhelming, the shower box, his body heat, his cock touching your thigh, it was all making you dizzy in the best ways possible. he pulls away, letting you catch your breath, but he stays close, brushing his lips over yours like it’s not enough. because it isn’t.

“did anyone see you come in?” he husks, hand still cradling your face as the other brushes your naked waist, pulling you closer. your skin is so soft under his palm.

“no,” you shake your head adorably, tongue poking out to wet your lip, “I don’t think so.”

the older coach hums, his hands freely roaming your side as he nudges your nose with his. “good,” is all he adds before he resumes the heated make out.

your tongues collide and caress, jaw falling slack as you moan a little louder when he grips your ass. groaning into your lip when your arms lock around his shoulders, wet chest pressing against his. you were such a sweet tasting girl.

his hand nudges your thigh. “jump.”

you gasp when he easily picks you up, back already pressed against the tiled wall. the hot water cascades down his back as he continues kissing you. “were you mad at me?”

you pull away, breath hot as you glance at his features. he’s so handsome, your hand cups his face, pushing his drenched raven hair back. “why would I mad?”

“because I kept ya out during halftime.”

you shake your head, lips curving as you trace his wet eyebrows, chest rising and falling. “no,” you drawl, wetting your glossy lips again. “I was jus’ confused about how much you kiss me.”

his scar tugs up, biting back a smirk threatening to break free. “you kissed me first.”

“that one time.”

“you started it,” he leans close, lips brushing yours, “so you can’t blame me for getting hooked.” his eyes are lidded. “it’s really hard for me to break bad habits.”

this time you kiss me.

you’re so unbelievably hungry for this man’s affection, you can ignore all the blaring red light going off in your head. he’s so hot, he’s so big, and he’s so fucking sexy! your mind has been completely and utterly fried and you don’t care.

“fuck, you’re dripping,” toji husks, his finger collecting your juices from your pussy, groaning at how turned you are. “kissing me makes ya feel that good? your cunt always dripping like a fountain?”

“yeah-aah—“ your lips part as he shoves a finger inside. he groans against you, chuckling at the choked whines leaving your pretty lips, your nails dig crescents along his shoulder.

his lips trail down your neck, tongue flattening against the wet skin and licking until you squirm a cute whimper. his smirk is impossible to hold back. he sucks a dark bruise as another finger pushes in your fluttering hole.

“c-coach—“ you gasp, lips so wet from spit. you try to look down at his fingers pistoning inside you. every muscle on his body flexing, keeping you up like you weigh nothing, while fingering you against the little shower wall. “fu-fuck, I’m gonna—cu-uhm—“

it really is too much for your obsessed brain.

coach toji’s fingers are inside you. he’s kissing you like he’s hasn’t pleasured a woman in years. and his groans are going straight to your pussy—

“I wan’…coach—“ your whine drawls a little longer, thighs shaking, and arms locking around him, head falling to neck.

the older man chuckles close to your ear, voice deep and husky as you fall apart, in his arms. hugging him like he’s your savior. his fingers curl, slowly pumping you through your orgasm. “that was quick. my baby hasn’t cum in awhile?” he says as a matter of a fact, but you just hug him closer, lips pulling away to trail kisses up his neck. your fingers coarse through the back of his head, grasping them as you kiss the corner of his mouth.

“it’s b’cause of you, toji.” you kiss his scar, panting as he pulls his fingers out and lifts you up suddenly, hooking his arm under your knee.

“you want a good fucking princess?”

you nod frantically, cheeks dewy and stinging, as you glance over his face then his chest, then you feel his cock between your slick folds.

“it’s a big stretch,” he mutters against your lips. “you saw.”

you nod, nervous stirring at the way he’s preparing you. but you don’t break away. you doubt you physically can, when your mind is only screaming his name over and over.

“I can take it, coach,” you nod, determined.

“you’re so fucking cute,” he snorts, a light blush dusting his cheeks as he kisses your lips in quiet reassurance. “ever take a cock this big?”

you shake your head, water droplets falling from the tips of your hair. your pretty necklaces still wrapped around your neck, all wet and glistening between your perky breasts.

“it’ll hurt,” he strokes himself underneath you, thumb running over his tip multiple times before lining it with your pretty clit and teasing you. “then you’re gonna cry.” you gulp, nodding along. “then you’re gonna tell me to stop—“

“I won’t!”

he snorts. “it’s okay if you do.”

you shake your head, “I won’t I’ll be okay. okay coach? I can take it, I wan’ you inside me. please.”

the tug to his heart is immediate. how can it not be when this cute hot girl is begging him to fuck her? but he can’t even formulate this emotional string that’s tying him to you. the only physical response coming out is this fucking erection that feels like the most painful shit he’s experienced, twitching after he first spoke to you and then again when you kissed him. surely it’s disgusting….an older man like him getting that quickly turned on…

but maybe it was the way he’s only felt this tug in his chest one other time in his life, and even if it didn’t end the way he wanted, he never regretted pursuing his baby mama.

so he’s all in right now.

“deep breath, sweetheart.”

you inhale sharply, just as toji pushes his engorged tip past the tight rim of your pussy, and you suddenly clench—

“shit!—“

your eyes widen, “I don’t feel anything,” you mutter, glancing down to see his ears burning a deep shade of red.

“your cunt squeezed me too early and shoved me out,” he wets his lips, as he crashes his lips against you. “relax, baby,” he husks.

you whine against his dominating mouth, lower body relaxing as he lines up again and the moment you ease up, he snaps his hips in.

“angh!—“

your jaw slacks, and he continues kissing, groaning at the unbelievable tightness that’s squeezing every corner of his tip.

“Mmm so warm, took me in good,” he groans, rocking his hips and grabbing a handle of your ass. “you’re gonna make me feel good?”

you nod, lips connecting with his, it’s messy, teeth clashing, spit mixing.

toji’s guttural groan echos through the shower, bouncing off the tiles as he rocks his hips, going in inch by inch, until he’s finally shoving his entire length deep inside your cunt with one mean thrust.

“fhuck—“ he chokes, jaw slacking as you clamp around him again. “full?”

you nod, brain scrambled as you glance at your tummy, cheeks stinging at the obvious bulge. “keep going,” you pant, securing yourself better as he grunts, pulling out and snapping his hips back.

it was mind numbing, toji holding you up with his strong arms hooked under your knees, hands gripping each ass cheek as he ruts into you like a beast in heat. the squelch and clapping was deafening as it bounced off the walls, the steam enveloping you closer as your whines flow right into his ear.

“nghhh—gettin’ me worked up,” thrust. “when you squeeze me,” thrust. “with this tight.” thrust. “fucking.” thrust. “cunt!”

his massive cock is stretching you in ways you never could’ve imagined. his blunt tip slams into your cervix with every thrust. your thighs shake, eyes filling with unshed tears as your nails dig into his tough skin.

“m’ s-sorry—haah ah coa—ahh! it feels s’ fuhh—fuh’me ple-easee—ahh!” your pretty lips were so glossy, drool coming down as water droplets fall from your pretty breasts with each vicious slam of his hips.

he was unforgiving. and his laugh like groan didn’t help your pussy from fluttering and tightening around his chubby cock. you can feel every thick pulsing vein and ridge. it was numbing your brain to mush. your fingers curled into his hair, tugging as he gives your ass a mean, violent, spank!

“angh!” your eyes bulge, a wave of heat crashing into you.

toji laughs, gripping your ass as he quickens his pace. “admit it,” he husks, voice condensing, and eyes dark with lust. “this is what ya’ wanted.” you’re falling apart around his cock, and he’s not slowing down, even as the tears finally break, making you look even more irresistible. you’re gasping like you can’t breathe. “you always wanted the coach to fuck you. taking those dirty photos of my bulge—nghh!” thrust. “imagining how big my dick is.” thrust. “how big is it baby, tell me.” thrust!

you were fucked dumb.

your face is flushed, eyes glossed over, as you whine like a full blown slut. and even with your two orgasms in a matter of minutes. your mind was still screaming one thing: toji.

“c’mon baby, I know you’re still with me,” he snorts, ears red, and body flushed with sweat as he feels his climax edge closer. “tell me—fuck—how big is it?”

your stupid brain catches his words, and your fingers dig into his neck as you gasp and moan, the stimulation of his massive cock slamming into you was ruining you. mentally and physically. it was humiliating. but still…

“haah—fuh its’ it’s so big— i wan’ you to cum in me! please —wan’ your cum so bad, wanna feel your big fat cock cum inside my pussy toji—ahh!”

anothet sharp spank takes your breath away.

toji is at a loss.

his grunts grew louder and thrusts sloppier, until finally, he gave you one final thrust, and stilled. his ass tightens, body pressing you into the tiled walls, face buried in your neck, and teeth sinking into your shoulder. toji completely unravels in the shower, holding up a pretty college girl that whines so beautifully in his ear he thinks he’d never cum this hard again, but sure enough—

your adorable whine has him rutting shallow thrusts into your pussy, like a fucking dog. his cum pumping out as he continued stuffing you full, purposely milking out ever drop as his dark wet pubes rubbed against your puffy clit.

you both catch your breath. your lashes wet from tears, as the water from the shower head fills the silence. after a moment, toji pulls away from your neck, his lidded eyes, hypnotizing as he stares up at yours.

you don’t know why you suddenly feel shy. your cheeks burn as the emerald irises bore into your own. lips parting, and a gentle hand coming up to his cheek. you brush back the raven hair flattening against his features, smiling softly when his full face comes into view.

and he could’ve sworn you looked like an actual angel at this moment.

your eyes twinkled above, face illuminating in the dark shower, and body glistening like you’re an eternal being.

“toji…” the soft call has his heart doing something it hasn’t done in years. and that has his soft cock twitching inside you. “I’m,” you lean closer, arms wrapping around his shoulder, lips hovering near his, breasts smushed against his chest. your confidence comes back the moment you feel the man lean closer..but you continue. “I hope you don’t think…i wanted to have sex…just because i thought your dick was really big.”

toji blinks.

then he does the worst thing ever.

he laughs.

your cheeks sting, watching his head fall back in loud laughter. your hand flys to your face, embarrassed. “I’m being serious!” you yell.

toji laughs louder, body shaking as he lifts you up, his cock slipping out. he carefully sets your shaky feet down on the wet tile. the height difference returns, making you even more ticked off, your little attitude was oozing out, and his slick cock couldn’t help but twitch against his thigh at your pouting.

god, you’re fucking hot.

he brings your attention back to him. hands cupping your face, tilting your head to look up at him. your brows are pinched together, and lips pulled in a subtle scowl.

toji smirks. “don’t worry, I know you also took pictures of my face.”

you flush, rolling your eyes. “those were accidents.”

“so you just wanted pictures of my dick?”

your eyes widen, “no! i told you they were all accidents.”

toji clicks his tongue, leaning down to your level, making your tummy flip “you’re fucking cute, but let’s not lie to adults.”

“I’m an adult though,” you raise a brow, pushing back, and god if that wasn’t the hottest thing ever.

but still, toji’s easygoing smile remains on his playful lips, “it’s embarrassing. i understand,” he softens the blow as your face heats. it was humiliating when he found those pictures, “taking photos of the coach like that. but now’s the time to take some accountability.”

you lick your teeth, eyes boring into him, narrowing. but it’s toji. toji is asking. and you can’t hold back any longer…

you exhale, glancing away, even though he’s still cupping your face. “yeah, obviously I took those photos on purpose,” your eyes meet. “happy?”

water is still running down his shoulders as he keeps your face tucked carefully in his hands like you’re something precious despite the grin threatening to split across his face again.

but then toji smirks. “ecstatic.”

your eyes narrow immediately, “you’re so annoying.”

he huffs another laugh under his breath, quieter this time, thumbs brushing over your heated cheeks. standing this close to him is ridiculous now that the adrenaline’s settling. he’s huge. his broad chest still damp against yours, muscles flexing every time he shifts, towering over you while you stand there completely naked except for the necklaces you’re wearing. the little gold chains glisten under the shower head, delicate against flushed skin, and toji’s eyes flick down to them for a second before returning to your face.

that look in his eyes makes your stomach tighten all over again. he knows he’s not trying to be mocking, or casual like before. it’s fondness.

“those shots were real creative, sweetheart,” he says, voice rougher now. “nice and close too.”

you groan, immediately trying to shove his chest, but he barely moves. “oh my god, can you let it go already?”

“can’t,” he answers easily. “been thinkin’ about it for weeks.”

your face burns hotter. weeks?!

toji watches it happen in real time, watches the attitude crack just enough for embarrassment to slip through, again. and it does something terrible to him. you’re sharp with everyone else—cool, hard to impress. he’s seen it. seen the way you brush off gojo and geto without a second thought. but with him? you melt.

even now, glaring up at him with your brows pulled tight, lips still swollen from kissing, legs trembling from the multiple orgasms, trying so hard to stay irritated while your body keeps betraying you. it’s fucking adorable.

“don’t look at me like that,” you mutter weakly.

“like what?”

“like you know things.”

his grin widens instantly. “but i do know things now.”

what proceeded after was the thirty something year old coach, dropping to his knee and lifting your leg up, burying his face between your legs like a starving man. your lips part in shock.

but still, as toji works your pretty body to another orgasm, tongue shoved inside, cleaning this little pussy up, jaw slack as he gulps down his own cum. your fingers thread through his hair, tugging whenever he’d give your clit a mean rough suck, cheeks hollowing. his hand, grips your ass from behind, squeezing and slapping as he pleased, until you were falling apart.

afterwards, he cleaned you up. this time with some soap. his big hands roamed your body, every crevice and curve, hands massaging your breasts as he had your back pressed to his chest, chuckling when you’d whine. thumbs tugging playfully. hand rubbing between your legs, head tucked in your shoulder as he watches your smaller hands hold his forehead, face hot.

“toji,” you whine, embarrassed, as he teasing a finger against your hole again.

“what,” he smirks, watching your reactions, “I’m jus’ cleaning you up.”

he’s a fucking perv. but still, he teases you through the whole shower, keeping you close to his body and even letting you wash his back, admiring the muscles and ink that decorate his skin.

eventually, he steps out first, keeping you inside so he can grab an extra towel. his own wrapped around his waist.

that was the start of all of it.

three months later….

you and shoko are sitting out in the quad. table covered in assignments and forgotten laptops. all while you explained to shoko how your weekend went.

“no, we definitely got along. megumi is so cute!” you gush about the ten year old, describing how your first meeting went. toji had spoken about you enough to prepare megumi, waiting until the right time to introduce you both.

and now, you’re going to every single one of their soccer games, toji and megumi’s.

and eventually, after another hour passes by. a group of athletes comes walking down the path. covered in sweat, holding their duffles, and behind them is a very hot coach, already breaking into a smile when you jump up.

“toji!”

it was a routine. your arms thrown around his shoulders, as he lifts you up with one hand. zero regard for any pda, as he kisses you deeply. smiling as you hum, pecking him over and over.

“why do you guys look like that?” shoko grimaces, looking at gojo and geto who look far worse than the rest of the team that leave.

geto scowls, glaring at his best friend, “fucking coach overhead him again.”

shoko shakes her head, rolling her eyes, at the white haired idiot. “you need to stop—“

“it’s been three months and she’s not over that old man?!”

“he’s not even that old!” shoko defends.

but gojo scowls harder, glancing over his shoulder at you laughing and talking, hands animated, like the man in front of you was holding the world. “it’s always the mean girls.”

shoko frowns, “you’re messed up in the head.”

but even geto narrows his eyes when toji wraps a possessive arm around you, glaring up at the two players.

it was clear as day.

you’re his.

a/n: this was LOONG overdue, mb guys!!! but i hope you all enjoyed it!!! ahhhh i love coach toji sososososo much—like its a serious problem, i cant make reader behave normally when its toji, like she has to be obsessed with himmm

anyways, the next oneshot will def be the frat gojo fic! possibly thinking of frat geto after this oneshot too bc i put in some little easter eggs about how they both kinda lean into mean girls so stay tuned! — (divider by @/strangergraphics)

[bigtrashland]

✮⋆˙ satoru cums in you for the first time in front of the city view MDNI

On Friday nights, people either go out partying or stay home and chill, doing what they enjoy. That’s something you liked to do, but that all changed when you ended up in a relationship.

You and Gojo have been on a movie marathon since 5PM, and it’s well past midnight now. Let’s just say the Netflix ‘Are you still watching?’ question has been on your TV screen for the past three hours.

Currently, you were getting fucked so hard, bent before the vast glass window overlooking a city alive with lights. Although your attention wasn’t on anything outside, it was on your boyfriend's girthy dick plunging in and out of your gummy walls.

It was Gojo’s idea to fuck you in front of the window. His words were: “I want everyone to see my pretty girl and how she takes this dick.”, and without a second thought, you agreed.

Your back was against his chest, both hands on the now foggy window. Meanwhile, Gojo couldn’t get enough of you—his hands roaming all over your body. Gripping your waist, while the other moved up toward your tits, giving them a harsh squeeze, which had you whimpering in return.

“Taking this dick so well, you’re so fucking perfect. God, I love you.” He rambled on completely out of his mind. His praises made you look up at him, your head resting on his shoulder.

His eyes were half-lidded, staring directly into your soul. The kind of look that always had your stomach tingling and the wetness between your thighs growing more.

“Please, please. Don’t stop,” you whined, pushing your hips back into him. The tip of his dick kissing your cervix.

Gojo’s eyes rolled back into his skull, his plump lips parted—panting so hard, it sounded as if he just ran a 20-mile marathon. “Ngh- baby, if you do that, I might actually cum inside you.”

You turn your attention back to the city, and then an idea of something completely new to you pops inside your fucked out brain. “Cum inside me, in front of the—Fuck just like that—city.”

After being together for nearly a year, he still hasn’t been able to cum inside you. You both just didn’t want to risk having a kid, but how hot he was looking and the feeling of his thrusts against you had you not caring about anything.

He quickly snapped his eyes open; his hips fluttered for half a second as an eyebrow raised. “You… are you sure?”

“Please.” You nodded immediately, licking your lips. “I need it.”

With that, his dick twitched inside you. One of his hands moved to the back of your spine, bending you down into a biggg arch. Your legs wobbled beneath your weight; the left side of your face squished against the cold windowpane.

He bit his lip at the sight of you, both hands now gripping your waist as his pace began to fuck you harder and faster. You cried out, nails digging into the window. Probably leaving scratches- not like you both cared anyway.

“Yeah? You want my cum inside you?” His gaze dropped down, watching his cock slide in and out of you, then glancing back up. “My needy girl wants my cum dripping from her pussy, huh?”

“Mhm!” You couldn’t mutter a single word. You were starting to feel so overstimulated with how full you felt, plus you both have been fucking like rabbits—without taking a single break.

He leaned over, his chest against your back. He sank his teeth into your neck, leaving yet another mark on your delicate skin. His eyes didn't look away from your face.

You turned your head as far as you could, your lips puckering in a silent invitation for him to kiss you. He met your lips right away; it was a sweet kiss you both shared over the years.

He bit your lip hard enough to draw the slightest amount of blood. You moaned against his lip, your lips parting. He slid his tongue inside your mouth instantly; the feeling made your head dizzy.

It’s surprising to this day how good he can kiss. Even though you were his first girlfriend, his first kiss. First everything in general, but honestly you loved every bit of it.

And as time went on, the kiss became deeper. Tongues fighting for dominance, with each of you refusing to give in. Gojo’s hand traveled up to your neck, his large palm settling against your skin before his fingers squeezed firmly.

He pulled away from the kiss, just enough to speak. Both of your breaths were mixing together as you looked into each other’s eyes.

His eyebrows furrowed up, and you could tell he was trying his hardest not to roll his eyes back into his skull again. You also know he was so close to cumming.

“You gonna cum, baby?” Your voice was in that sweet tone that had him whimpering in response. You lifted your hand from the cool window, moving your arm behind you until your fingers disappeared into his messy white hair.

His thrust grew sloppier with each move, his thighs hitting the back of your ass. Gojo moved his hand down your body, feeling you up before landing between your thighs. His middle finger rubbed against your clit, fast.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck, yes I’m gonna cum.” He grunted, throwing his head back, eyes closing tightly, mouth gapped open. The grip on your waist tightened enough for his knuckles to turn white.

His throat bobbing, hips meeting your ass as his cum spilled all over your walls. Painting your insides white. The new sensation of being filled to the brim made your own release wash over you. Your legs became weak as tears began to form in the corner of your eyes.

“Fuck!” You cried out, slamming your hand back onto the window. The contact made a big bang, which, surprisingly, none of you noticed.

Your mind was absolutely scrambled, lost in the orgasm he just gave you. Probably the best one you've experienced together, and if it wasn’t for his arms holding you up, you would’ve fallen to the ground.

He held you close to his chest, panting into your ear. Overcoming his own release. Then he slowly pulled out of your pussy, watching as his dick fell out. “holy shit.”

You turned your head to face him. “Hm?”

He leaned down, cracking a hand over your plush cheek. You whine out at the contact, but he doesn’t take any of notice of it, his attention stuck on him spreading your ass cheeks apart and watching as his cum drip out of you, “This is the hottest shit I’ve ever seen.”

“Stop! You’re gonna get it on the carpet.” You complained, slapping his shoulder. He shook his head, chuckling—not long before running his finger between your slit, gathering up every drop of the white liquid that slipped out of you.

He stood up to his full height, moving his finger to your lips. “Open.”

You locked eyes with him, slowly opening your mouth and sticking out your tongue. With that, he stuck his finger into your mouth. Immediately, you sucked on it, whining at the taste.

His dick got hard right away. He pulled his fingers out, leaning down, meeting your lips in another harsh kiss. The taste of both of you lingering on his tongue drew a low groan from him against your lips before he slowly pulled away.

”Just letting y'know, i'm cumming inside you all the time now.”

sorry if this is ass, i have no clue what i’m doing 😣.

[claudialynq]

COWBOY TOJIII

Hello another toji art I promise next one is gojo or geto or maybe them both I don’t know yet!!

[hangenism]

♡ ⸝⸝ lazy morning sex w suguru ❤︎₊ ⊹ cw: nsfw

sunlight peaked through the curtains of your shared apartment. it was early morning, but the exact time was unclear. you had woken up a few minutes ago and suguru was stirring beside you. you felt him first: his big arms wrapping around you, soft lips leaving wet kisses down your neck, and the hard tent in his pants pressing against your ass.

wasting no time, you slowly grinded against him, earning a low grown from the raven haired man. his soft lips ghosted over your skin while his hands gripped your hips. you instinctively opened your legs as he inched closer to you. the only thing you had on were your flimsy sleep shorts and matching tank top. suguru snaked his hand in between your thighs and tugged off your shorts. arching into him, you spread even wider so he could reach where you ached the most.

“already so soaked for me,” he murmured. using his fingers, he spread your slick across your folds a low hum. all you could manage was a small nod. he pressed a kiss to your shoulder before slipping two fingers inside of you. you moaned into your pillow and shuddered. his long fingers reached where your own couldn’t. he curled them and you bit the pillow to muffle your embarrassingly loud moans.

he cupped your face and stroked your cheek with his thumb. “don’t hide from me. i wanna hear you.” your cunt fluttered at his words and you whimpered his name.

“you’re taking my fingers so well my love,” he cooed, picking up the pace a little. broken moans left your lips as he fucked you with his fingers. you didn’t hold back this time, letting him hear just how good he made you feel.

“my baby is so needy in the morning, isn’t she?” suguru pressed his lips to your neck. a soft cry escaped your lips, your thighs shaking as he curled his fingers again.

you shattered, the pleasure taking over you. you whispered his name quietly as you came down from your high. suguru pulled out his fingers with a wet squelch before bringing them to his lips.

“mmm,” he moaned shamelessly. you glanced over your shoulder and watched as he swirled his tongue to taste you. he smirked when he realized you were watching him, then pulled down his boxers.

precum was already oozing from his mushroom tip. you reached behind you and pumped the base of his cock, earning a low groan from him. as you glided your thumb across the head, he twitched in your palm and bucked his hips into your hand slightly.

after you teased him a bit, he did the same suguru teased your entrance, smearing your wetness with his length before pushing inside. you gasped at the stretch. he split you open as he slowly buried himself deeper and deeper inside of you. once he fully bottomed out, he began to move his hips slightly.

the angle was more agonizing than his pace. his thrusts were shallow, he barely pulled out before slipping back inside of you, but the way his tip nudged that spot deep inside made you shiver. your velvet walls clenched around him with each stroke, taking every inch.

“my pretty girl,” he whispered. you whined softly, too tired and too fucked out to think properly. "perfect, just perfect."

he rolled his hips slowly. you arched your back and grasped the pillow under your head. his dick bullied your cunt, making your brain go all fuzzy. the way he whispered sweet, yet filthy things to you wasn’t helping either.

“you take me so well, my love. the way you melt like putty in my hands drives me crazy.” he smiled into your skin. “milking the shit out of me as a ruin you. so tight, you’d think i never take care of you.”

but that wasn’t true. mornings like this with suguru were a reoccurring thing. he always found himself slipping inside of you, reaching where you needed him most.

thanks to the anon that requested this!!

[evfers]

suguru is so mean :(

mdni

This man is so fucking irritating in the best way possible.

He loves taunting you when you’re crying under him as his veiny, warm, bulging cock slides inside your little wet, creamy pussy. When you tell him to have some sort of mercy on your already well-fucked cunt, he just mimics your plead and challenge you to do something about it. Knowing you can’t.

“Ohhh!”

He copied your moan again in your ear, grinning smugly. He knows exactly what he’s doing when he’s fucking you like this—his cock is just so huge. You want him to stop teasing you. He’s been doing this for several hours and it’s making you sad. You don’t like this game anymore. “Stop d-doing that!” You sniffled and swallowed. He hums teasing. “Mmmh..” he pretends to think about it and deadpans his voice. “No.”

“Wha?” You look at him with puppy eyes at his answer. He has you in a locked full Nelson, his undeniable strength is keeping you in place. He repeats after you in your whiny tone and exaggerates it. “Wha?” You see his grin grow. Before you can respond he purposely speeds up inside you. You squeal and moan. “H-heyyy!” Now he’s ignoring you and fucks your pussy like a sex toy. “Do something about it. Crybaby.” He says. You click your teeth in irritation and sadness.

You can’t do anything about it.

“Sh-shut the fuck up!” He’s hitting all your nerves.

“No.” He simply denies.

His hips go faster into you and you’re on the edge of sobbing. “Stop it!” You cry, voice raw. “Mh-mhh..” he says teasingly. He knows you hate it when he’s teasing you during sex. Because then it just turns into him just being a meanie to you and your pussy. “Stop ittt!” He mocks you again. He bounces you on his cock and you sob harder, he has to and will make sure you feel it until your wailing. “Just a little crybaby, hm?” You want to just cry. It’s so embarrassing and humiliating. It’s true though, you do cry a lot when you’re overstimulated. So now he’s just pointing it out. You try to defend yourself but then he’ll just go faster and further prove his point when more sobs come from you.

“I hate YOUUUUUHHH!!”

“Oh please, cry me a river. Crybaby.”

And he makes you take it—you scream and squeal until all you can do is cry pathetic sobs as he fucks your pussy into a sickening orgasm. And then he makes you take more because your cries are so cute.

ꉂ (′̤ॢ∀ ू‵̤๑))ˉ̞̭♡ 𝑡𝑎𝑔𝑙𝑖𝑠𝑡: @cuntphoric-main @zukobendsme @cuntphoric @nonamedreams @lilithkleia @levisfatjuicycock @sapph22 @manonism @insanjity @cypresseddd @stqrgumi @lemonzie @angelicwhispersofsin @sugusplaything @dearkuna @izuruverse @serpenttine @daflex @animewhoreswrld @yoonsucks @iloveyachisomuchaaa

[tamotaroteam]

Aizawa and cat(I just noticed this is the first time I ever draw sensei) Btw this piece will be featured as a photo in one of our illustrations in our MHA fanbook “Sun-filled”(pre-order is up, you can check my blog or vitsit our website tamotaro.com/global-store/ for more details)

[tinylilacbun]

Could you maybe write about toddler reader when the sully family goes to the Metkayina clan and fluff about all that?

New Home | part 1

Summary: A short story of you and your family arriving at the Metkayina Clan and learning their ways.

Pairing: toddler!sully!reader x sully!family

Warnings: not proofread other than that nothing, just fluff :3, word count: 1,1k

A/N: writing these kind of fics heals something inside me

part 1 | part 2 | part 3

⋅˚₊‧ ଳ ‧₊˚ ⋅ ⋅˚₊‧ ଳ ‧₊˚ ⋅ ⋅˚₊‧ ଳ ‧₊˚ ⋅ ⋅˚₊‧ ଳ ‧₊˚ ⋅

You look down in awe as your family finally reaches the Metkayina clan, the water so clear you can see the sea life even from so far up, Jake even has to wrap an arm more firmly around you to avoid you from falling off as you take in your surroundings with childlike wonder.

"Hold onto me, babygirl." He reminds softly as they begin to descend on a patch of sand, Jake dismounting Bob first before he lifts you up and onto the ground, watching you plop down to bury your hands in the warm sand before turning to Neytiri who just grabbed her bow. "Hey, leave it. Neteyam, take your sister please."

Without hesitation, Neteyam goes to scoop you up despite your protest, dusting off your hands with an amused shake off his head.

As the Metkayina start to gather around you and your family you hold more onto Neteyam, your tail flicking nervously when two of the clan come closer and don’t return the 'i see you' gesture, looking you and your brothers up and down instead.

You hide your face in your brother's braids instead, letting out quiet whimper at being stared at from so many people while he tries to soothe you. "It’s okay, tsmuketsyìp." You still jump in his arms when the Olo‘eyktan, Tonowari, arrives on his Skimwing.

He greets your father, the rest of your family exchanging greetings as well. "Why do you come to us, Jake Sully." He questions just as Ronal steps forward beside Tonowari, eying you all skeptically.

"We seek uturu." He replies and you see how Ronal's ears pin back almost in outrage.

"Uturu?" She repeats, exchanging a glance with her mate.

"Yes, sanctuary for my family." Your father pleads desperately.

"We are Reef People. You are Forest People. Your skills will mean nothing here." Tonowari clarifies as Ronal steps closer to you and your brothers, seeing the way Neteyam holds you protectively.

Once Ronal walks past, you start to squirm in Neteyam's arms, wanting to be put down again and he reluctantly sets you down between his legs before you can start to whine.

You crouch down to now draw small shapes in the smooth sand, distracting yourself from the tension that is in the air as the adults keep talking around you, giggling quietly to yourself.

Everything is so different from your home, more sun, more space to swim, and even more to learn, which is just as scary as it’s exciting.

You lift your head when you hear Tonowari announce that your family is allowed to stay with their clan, smiling as Jake turns to pick you up with a relieved sigh. "What do we say?"

"Thank you…" You say shyly before hiding your face in his neck as he and the rest of your family walk back over to the Ikrans to get the few belongings you were able to take with you.

You are allowed to carry something light and most importantly your favorite toy that your father made for you, almost tripping a few times as Tsireya leads you to a non occupied Marui.

"This is for you. Your new home." She says, smiling down at you when you walk past her and you quickly return it, following Jake inside the Marui.

"Yeah, this will work. This is great. It’s nice right?" Jake asks into the room and Neytiri just lets the rug she’s holding fall onto the ground with a exasperated sigh.

The sun is starting to go down as you and your family made it comfy in your new home, you skipping around with your wooden Ikran in hand when your father calls the family together.

"Okay, Sullys, fall in. Come on. Take a knee. Let’s go. Okay." He exhales, wrapping an arm around your small frame as you’re about to skip past him again and sits you down on his knee. "I need you kids on your best behavior. I mean it. Learn fast. Pull your weight. Don’t cause trouble. You got it?"

"Yes sir." Lo'ak responds, snarling when Neteyam pinches the back of neck with a chuckle as he’s the one who somehow always gets into trouble.

"I want to go home." Tuk speaks up sadly and you frown at the sad look on her face, reaching up to clumsily pat her leg as a sob escapes her.

"Oh Tuk…" Neytiri coos, her heart aching for her children that just want to be where they feel the most comfortable and safe, especially you and Tuk who have to begin from the start all over again in such a young age and leaving everything you have learned behind to adapt in your new surroundings.

"Tuk, this is our home now." Jake says softly, taking her hand in his. "Now we’re gonna get through this. We gonna get through this if we have each other’s backs. All right?"

"What does your father always say?" Neytiri reminds you and your siblings.

"Sullys stick together." Your brothers answer together.

"Yeah, that’s right. Sullys stick together." Jake smiles, his thumb rubbing over your skin from where his hand is resting your belly. "Now this time with more feeling."

This time your whole family repeats it and you clap your hands with a giggle. "Sully together!" You say proudly and it’s enough to have all off them smiling even just a little bit.

"You know it, babygirl." Your father chuckles, handing you over to Neytiri when you reach for her with a tired yawn, rubbing at your eyes.

"Time to rest, ma 'ite." She smiles fondly, pressing her forehead to yours as she carries you to your sleeping mat, laying you down carefully and starts to hum a lullaby for you, running her finger down your nose as your eyes flutter shut from that exciting day.

When it’s getting dark outside and all your sibling have gone to sleep as well Jake crouches down beside you, brushing some her from your face with a sigh as he addresses Neytiri. "What are we supposed to do with her? She can barely swim on her own and her siblings have to worry about learning fast themselves to also help her."

"She will learn. At her own pace." She assures him, though she also has been worrying about that since you’re still so young and little.

"Maybe we should keep an eye on her until we all have adapted some more, and see how we keep going from there. We both take turns in watching and helping her." He suggests, watching fondly when one of your hands grasp onto two of his fingers in your sleep.

Neytiri nods at her mate’s suggestion. "That’s a good idea, Ma Jake."

The next days will be a challenge for all of them, but they manage this as they always do, together as a family.

[breathe4me]

toji's favourite sex position ! breeding, choking, slapping, spitting, degrading, praising, baby trapping, squirting! <3

toji had almost nothing to his name, so when he saw you in the club, flaunting a wad of cash that easily summed up to almost 10,000 bucks like it was nothing, he immediately found the next girl he'd set eyes on; his next victim to fund his life and gambling addiction.

the process of getting into bed with you was far too easy, just a little bit of sweet talking, a little praise, and a promise to give you the best dicking down of your entire life, had you mewling and clawing at his shoulders.

toji was similar to a bed bug: he hopped from girl to girl to ensure that he had a roof over his head without doing any hard work. so when he had you, one of the richest girls in the entire country, under him whilst his cock was balls deep in your perfect cunt, there was only one thing he could think of doing: breeding you.

"you like this dick?" toji's large hand wraps around your neck, thick fingers squeezing either side of your neck - small white dots start to cloud your vision. your cunt flutters around his cock as you nod pathetically, eyes rolling back into your head.

"i asked you a question baby girl, answer when daddy talks to you," toji's hand moves from your neck to slap you across the face, leaving a dark red hand print on your cheek. you moan, legs going like jelly as you claw at his back.

"love-love your dick daddy, so deep," you mewl, head tilting to the side before toji suddenly stops and lifts your legs over his shoulders. you sob, tear filled doe eyes finding his in a silent plea for him to continue pounding you. "please daddy, please fuck my dirty cunt,"

"desperate whore," toji slams his cock back into you in the new position, the mating press, your legs were lifted so far up your back was almost arched off the bed. your stomach bulged with just how deep his thick cock was stretching you out.

your mouth hangs open, your eyes cross in the middle as each moan is literally fucked out of your body. "does that feel good baby? your rich pussy being fucked with some street cock? isn't this what you needed? some dirty man putting his paws in this million dollar pussy?" he grabs your jaw with his hand, parting your lips fully and spitting into your mouth.

you can barely muster up a response with words, only clenching and fluttering around his length as a thick rim of white cream starts to form at his base. " gonna stuff this cunt full of my cum, make you round with my kids," toji moans into your ear before ducking his head down to suck a dark hickey into your neck.

the possibility of his future being filled with money and a fancy car makes the thought of knocking you up far too enticing. his balls tighten, forearms barricading each side of your head as he dumbs his entire hot load inside of you.

you gasp, clawing at his back, "to-daddy, should of pulled out!" your sentence is half formed, slurred, and barely even coherent as your own orgasm rips through you thanks to toji's thumb rubbing at your clit. his cock is forced out of you as you squirt all over him, and the sheets.

"sh-shouldn't have fucked you," you sob, attempting to push him off even as you come down from your orgasm.

"your pussy says otherwise darling."

[levitonin]

This was supposed to be quick coloring but I got carried away and rendered it

[creampiedby]

blood and sex. king! Sukuna x concubine! fem! reader

synopsis: Sukuna, the king of plagues, returns seriously injured from a battle and is being treated by his favorite concubine but he want fuck you.

warnings: NSFW (MDNI), some fluff, nipple playing, riding, cowgirl, missionary, belly tummy, breeding, multiple orgasms in a row, overstimulation, masturbation, eating pussy, cervix kissing, blood, sukuna in his true form and has two big dicks

a/n: thanks @twinklingstarinthesky for the request 🤭💕 And tysmmm for 4.8k followers!!💗

words: 6829.

The night has already fallen when the large doors of the palace open with a deafening crash. Sukuna, in his true form, advances with heavy and unsteady steps down the main corridor.

Dark blood flows abundantly from several deep wounds: a large gash crosses his right shoulder to the middle of his chest and another wound on his left flank. His four arms hang heavily, two of them weakly pressing against his wounds to contain the bleeding.

His four red eyes glow faintly, his lips are clenched, slightly parted on a silent groan of pain.

“My Lord! Let us treat you!” exclaims a healer running forward, hands trembling. “We have herbs and bandages, we can—”

A low, threatening growl escapes Sukuna’s throat. One of his upper arms sweeps the air with force, pushing everyone back.

“Don’t touch me, vermin.” His voice is hoarse, breathless, but still full of authority. “Where is she? Bring me Y/N. Right now.”

The servants bow deeply and step aside without arguing. A few moments later, you arrive running, your heart tight with anguish. As soon as he sees you, Sukuna lets out a hoarse sigh and continues toward his private chambers.

He collapses heavily onto the raised platform, his back against the thick cushions. His massive body trembles slightly from the effort. The blood continues to flow slowly along his tattoos, staining the silk sheets.

You rush to his side without waiting, already carrying clean cloths and supplies the healers gave you. Your hands tremble as you begin to clean the deep gash on his shoulder and chest.

The wound is irregular, the edges burned by enemy magic, and you see the flesh regenerating slowly, too slowly for your liking. The wound on his flank is bleeding even more, the mouth on his stomach clenched in pain every time you touch it.

“Sukuna…” you murmur, your voice tight.

He places one of his upper hands on the back of your neck, warm and heavy despite his weakness, and pulls you against him. Your face nestles against his chest. The smell of his blood envelops you.

“Stop shaking,” he growls softly, his voice tired. “It’s nothing… those insects couldn’t do anything more.”

“You’re still bleeding a lot,” you reply, throat tight. “I thought… when the servants came rushing to get me, I thought this time…”

A heavy silence settles. His four arms slowly surround you, pressing you possessively against his injured body. His four eyes stare at you with a weakened but burning intensity.

“I can’t die,” he murmurs against your hair, his voice low and hoarse. “Not as long as my pretty concubine is waiting for me here…”

One of his hands slides under your chin, gently lifting your face, and he kisses you. His lips are warm, pressing despite the pain, almost desperate. The kiss is slow, deep, loaded with everything he doesn’t say out loud.

You feel the mouth on his stomach part slightly against your belly, letting out a burning breath, while his arms hold you tighter against him.

You eventually place your hands on his chest and gently push him back, just enough to break the kiss. Your breath is short, your eyes shining with worry and determination.

“Let me treat you first,” you say firmly, your voice more assured than you really are. “You’re still losing a lot of blood. I can’t… I don’t want to lose you because of your pride.”

Sukuna stares at you for a long moment with his four eyes. A low growl rolls in his throat, half-amused, half-annoyed. The mouth on his stomach lets out a small hoarse chuckle. Despite the obvious pain, a carnivorous smile slowly stretches his lips.

“You dare push me away, little thing?” he murmurs, his voice deep and hoarse. Yet his arms loosen slightly around you, giving you just enough space to move.

You take advantage of this opening to pick up the clean cloths again. Your fingers are still trembling a little as you apply the care to the large gash on his shoulder, then to the one on his flank. Sukuna doesn’t take his eyes off you, his two lower arms remaining placed on your hips, wanting you close to him even in his weakness.

The flesh closes slowly, but the bleeding persists in places, staining your hands and the silk sheets. Sukuna remains still, his four arms placed around you, two of them absently caressing your back.

You feel his breathing become more regular, his strength returning little by little. His cursed regeneration does its work, even if the wounds remain impressive.

A few minutes pass in tense silence, broken only by the sound of the cloths and his hoarse breathing. You are focused on your task, carefully cleaning the deepest wound on his chest, when suddenly one of his upper hands slides over your waist, while another caresses your hip. His body now gives off a more vivid heat, a sign that he is recovering quickly.

“Enough,” he growls in a stronger, almost impatient voice. His four eyes shine with more intensity. “Come here. I want you now. You missed me on that battlefield, my favorite.”

You shake your head, refusing to let go of the cloth. “No. You’re still injured. Let me finish, Sukuna. It’s important.”

A low and dangerous laugh resonates in his chest. He grabs your hips with two of his arms, trying to pull you onto him despite your protests. The mouth on his stomach opens slightly, letting out a hot breath against your belly.

“Do you really think a few scratches will stop me?” he says, his voice harder this time, tinged with irritation from the persistent pain. “You’re just a concubine I tolerate by my side, nothing more. Stop playing healer and obey.”

The words hit you like a blade. Your heart clenches violently. You freeze, hands suspended above his wound. Your eyes mist over despite yourself. You know he is cruel by nature, but hearing him say it so coldly, after everything you do for him… it hurts.

Sukuna immediately notices the change on your face. His expression darkens. A heavy silence settles.

“…Wait,” he finally murmurs, his voice lower. He gently holds you back when you try to pull away. His four arms surround you with more care. “I shouldn’t have said that. The pain makes me… irritable. You’re not just a simple concubine. You are the only one I tolerate near me. The only one I can’t do without. Forgive me. Please? My pretty girl.”

You smile internally. Seeing Sukuna, the most feared king, begging you to forgive him is exceptional. You remain silent for a moment to make him believe it, then in a surge of frustration, you press the cloth firmly against his deepest wound on his flank. That’ll teach him. You press just enough to remind him of the pain but without aggravating the injury.

Sukuna startles slightly, a hoarse growl escaping his throat. Then, against all expectations, he bursts into a deep, sincere laugh that vibrates through his entire massive body. The mouth on his stomach laughs too, a strange and guttural sound.

“Ah… there’s my favorite with the strong character,” he says between two laughs, his eyes shining with amusement and a darker glint. “You dare wound the King of Curses? What audacity.”

Before you can react, his four arms move with surprising speed despite his injuries. After all, he remains the strongest. He suddenly pins you under him on the platform, his massive body completely towering over you.

His dark tattoos contrast with your skin, his four eyes staring at you with a mix of possessiveness, desire, and brutal tenderness.

You are trapped beneath him, his two upper arms holding your wrists above your head, while his lower arms slide over your hips and thighs, holding you firmly in place. His face is very close to yours, his hot breath against your lips.

“You are mine,” he murmurs in a hoarse voice. “And I am yours, whether you want it or not. Now… let me show you how much better I am thanks to you.”

Without giving you time to answer, Sukuna lowers his head and kisses you again. This time, the kiss is deeper, more voracious. His lips capture yours with obvious hunger, his tongue sliding against yours in a possessive movement that takes your breath away.

You feel the heat of his massive body weighing on you, his wounds still sensitive but ignored by his recovered strength. The mouth on his stomach parts against your abdomen, letting out a burning breath that passes through the thin fabric of your nightgown.

One of his upper hands remains on your wrists, while the other slowly descends along your arm, brushing your skin. His two lower arms, meanwhile, explore freely.

One slides under your dress, caressing your bare thigh, moving up gradually. The other hand settles directly on your chest, enveloping one of your breasts. His fingers gently pinch your nipple through the fabric, making it harden instantly.

You can’t hold back a muffled moan against his mouth. “Sukuna…”

That sound seems to encourage him. His kiss becomes more intense, leaving you little air, while his hand on your breast slowly kneads it, massaging with controlled strength.

Your body arches instinctively beneath him, seeking more contact despite the voice in your head still reminding you of his injuries.

“You’re already moaning so well for me,” he growls against your lips, his voice hoarse with desire. “My little favorite… is so sensitive because of me.”

His two lower arms continue their exploration. One of them moves up to your other breast, caressing it with the same avid attention. He presses, kneads, his thumbs circling your now hardened nipples, sending waves of pleasure directly between your legs.

You moan louder, head slightly thrown back, eyes half-closed. Your breathing becomes irregular, interrupted by soft little cries each time he pinches a little harder.

Sukuna pulls slightly away from your mouth, just enough to observe your face flushed with pleasure. His four eyes shine with a satisfied and hungry glint. The mouth on his stomach slowly licks your skin through the fabric, wanting to taste every part of you.

In one fluid and impatient movement, he releases your wrists and easily tears the top of your dress, exposing your bare chest to the cool air of the room. An appreciative growl vibrates in his throat.

“Much better like this,” he murmurs.

His hands immediately return to your bare breasts. The feeling of his warm, rough skin against your sensitive flesh makes you moan louder.

He kneads them greedily, pressing them together, his thumbs and index fingers playing with your hardened nipples. Each caress sends jolts of pleasure through your entire body. Your hips move unconsciously against him, seeking relief.

“Sukuna… ugh more please.” Your moan is longer this time, almost pleading.

He lowers his head, capturing one of your breasts between his lips. His warm tongue circles the nipple, sucking it slowly before nibbling just enough to make you jump with pleasure.

Meanwhile, his hands continue to explore: one stays on your free breast, kneading it firmly, while the other slides lower, pulling on the rest of your dress to slide it down your hips. He throws the dress aside.

You are now almost completely naked beneath him, wearing only your panties. Sukuna raises his head, observing your exposed body with satisfaction.

“Perfect,” he breathes against your skin, before kissing you again, more slowly this time, while continuing to slide his hands over your bare curves.

His lips leave yours to descend along your neck, gently nibbling your sensitive skin. One of his upper hands remains on your breast, kneading it firmly, while the other slides lower, between your thighs. His fingers brush your intimacy through the thin fabric of your panties, already feeling the heat and wetness accumulating there.

“Just for me, isn’t it?” he murmurs in a hoarse and possessive voice against your ear, his four eyes shining with desire. You shiver beneath him, breathing short. “Yes…” you reply in a trembling sigh. “Just for you.”

A satisfied growl vibrates in his chest. His fingers finally push the fabric aside and slide directly over your hot and wet flesh. He slowly caresses your intimacy, tracing circles around your clit before plunging a thick finger into you. You moan louder, back arched, hips moving instinctively against his hand.

“So wet already…” he growls with a carnivorous smile. His two lower arms hold your thighs spread while his upper hands continue to knead your breasts, pinching your sensitive nipples. The mouth on his stomach slowly licks your belly, descending progressively lower, leaving a trail of wet heat on your skin.

You pant, lost in the sensations. Your hands slide over his massive chest, following the black tattoos, carefully avoiding his still sensitive wounds. Sukuna intensifies his caresses: he pushes a second finger into you, curling them to touch that precise spot that makes you see stars.

“Sukuna… ah… yes ugh… it feels so good! There!”

Suddenly, he withdraws his fingers from your intimacy, leaving you empty and frustrated. You moan in protest, hips desperately seeking his contact.

Sukuna laughs softly, a deep and amused laugh that resonates in his chest. His four eyes contemplate you with a mischievous and dominant glint.

“Not so fast,” he murmurs. “You dared push me away earlier to treat me… now I’m going to make you wait a little.”

He pins your wrists above your head again with one hand, completely immobilizing your upper body. His other two hands explore your body with deliberate and torturous slowness:

He caresses the inside of your thighs, brushes your swollen clit without ever really pressing, pinches your nipples just enough to make you moan, but never enough to fully satisfy you.

The mouth on his stomach descends lower, licking the inside of your thigh, very close to your intimacy, its hot breath making you shiver, but never touching you directly where you need it most.

Every time you try to move for more, he pulls back slightly, keeping you on the edge of pleasure without letting you fall.

“Sukuna… please…” you beg in a frustrated moan, your body trembling with unfulfilled desire.

“No, no,” he murmurs against your neck, his voice deep and amused. He slides two fingers along your slit, barely entering you before pulling out, repeating this slow and superficial movement again and again. “I want to hear you beg louder. I want you to yearn until you can’t think of anything but me.”

His hands on your breasts gradually slow down. He almost completely releases them, leaving only his thumbs brushing your swollen nipples from time to time, just enough to keep you in a state of burning frustration.

His two lower arms remain focused between your thighs: his fingers slowly caress your wet lips, spread your folds, brush your swollen clit with unbearable lightness. Each pass is too soft, too brief. Your body trembles, your hips lifting desperately to seek more pressure, but he pulls back each time with a low chuckle.

The mouth on his stomach lazily licks the inside of your thighs, leaving wet and warm traces very close to your intimacy, but never touching it. His burning breath makes you shiver violently.

“Sukuna… I beg you…” you moan, voice broken, body covered in a thin layer of sweat. “I need… I need more… please…”

He doesn’t answer you, too busy with his torment for long minutes, alternating between his fingers barely penetrating you and the tongue on his stomach brushing you without ever relieving you. Your moans turn into small sobs of frustration, your numb wrists still held above your head by his powerful arms.

Sukuna finally brings his face close to yours, his four eyes shining with cruel and amused desire. “If you really want to come, little favorite…” he murmurs in a hoarse and authoritative voice, “then you’re going to have to ride my tongue. The one on my stomach. Sit on it and rub yourself like the desperate little thing you are.”

Your cheeks burn with shame and excitement. You hesitate for a moment, but the need is too strong. When he slightly releases your wrists, you sit up. Sukuna lies completely on his back, his injuries almost forgotten, his massive body exposed. You settle above him, knees on either side of his torso. As you slowly descend, you immediately feel the heat of the mouth on his stomach against your soaked intimacy.

As you position yourself, your ass and pussy brush against something hard, hot, and thick. You clearly feel his two thick and long cocks, erect against your back. A shiver runs through you as you realize how aroused he is.

Sukuna smiles widely, a carnivorous and satisfied smile that reveals his sharp teeth. His four eyes contemplate you with a possessive and amused glint.

“You feel them, don’t you?” he growls, voice thick with desire. “My two cocks waiting only for you. But first you’re going to use my tongue. Go on. Rub yourself. Show me how much you need me.”

The mouth on his stomach opens wider, its thick warm tongue immediately sliding against your slit, licking slowly from bottom to top with diabolical precision. You can’t hold back a long hoarse moan as you begin to slowly move your hips against it.

You settle more comfortably above him, your hands resting on his chest while carefully avoiding his still sensitive wounds. You begin to rub against the hot and wet tongue, rolling your hips back and forth in a hesitant rhythm at first, then more and more pronounced.

Each stroke of the tongue makes you shiver. It is thick, rough in places, and slides perfectly between your soaked lips, caressing your clit with every movement. Your breasts move with the rhythm of your hips, and your moans become louder, more uncontrollable.

Sukuna watches you from below, his four eyes shining with satisfaction and raw desire. His two lower arms come to rest on your hips, gripping them firmly to guide you.

“You really are a desperate little thing to cum,” he growls in a hoarse and mocking voice, a carnivorous smile on his lips. “Look at you… rubbing yourself like a slut on your king’s tongue.”

His hands guide your movements, making you press down harder against his mouth. He makes you roll your hips in circles, forcing you to press your swollen clit against his tongue which now moves faster, licking and sucking your intimacy with voracity. The sensation is intense, wet, burning. You pant, nails lightly digging into his chest.

Encouraged by the pleasure consuming you, you slide one of your hands behind you. Your hands still find one of his two cocks through the stretched fabric. You clearly feel his first dick, enormous and hard, throbbing under the thick fabric. You begin to caress it through the clothing, pressing your palm and sliding your hand up and down its impressive length.

Sukuna lets out a hoarse growl, almost a guttural moan. His massive body twitches beneath you, and his four eyes narrow in pleasure. “Haaa ugh- you’re too insolent today…” he growls, his voice rougher.

To get revenge, he lifts you above his tongue and penetrates you with it in one thrust, sinking deep into your intimacy. You cry out in pleasure, back arched, as it begins to move inside you, turning, pulling out, plunging back in with force. The rhythm is merciless, as if he wants to punish you for daring to touch him even through the fabric.

“Mhh! Sukuna…! Please..-” you moan, voice broken. Your hips move faster on their own, riding his tongue desperately. Your hand behind you continues to caress his first cock through the hakama, squeezing harder, moving up and down its entire length.

Sukuna growls with pleasure, his hips lifting slightly. His tongue fucks you relentlessly, entering and exiting, licking your inner walls, finding that sensitive spot that makes you tremble violently. His hands on your hips continue to guide you, making you press down harder, faster, forcing you to take everything he gives you.

“That’s it…” he breathes between two growls, voice thick with desire. “I fill you so well with my tongue. You’re so wet it’s dripping onto my stomach. You needed this so badly?”

You moan in response. Your thighs tremble, you lean a little forward. You remove your hand from his cock and place both hands on his chest to keep your balance. The tongue continues its deep and rhythmic assault, taking you higher and higher. The wet and obscene sound of his tongue entering and exiting your soaked pussy fills the room, making you moan even louder.

“Sukuna… ugh- I… I’m gonna…” Your hips move frantically now, riding his tongue without restraint. Each deep penetration makes the liquid of your arousal slap against his stomach. The thick tongue turns inside you, presses hard against that sensitive spot, licks your inner walls with almost brutal greed.

Sukuna growls with satisfaction as he feels your contractions around his tongue. His two lower arms squeeze your hips tighter, holding you pressed against him so you can’t escape.

“That’s it, my little slut…” he growls in a hoarse and dirty voice. “Cum on my tongue. Flood me like the desperate little concubine you are. Show your king how much you get wet for him.”

You cry out, the pleasure becoming too intense. Your nails dig into his tattooed chest, your thighs clenching around him.

The orgasm hits you violently, like a burning wave. Your body arches brutally, your pussy contracting spasmodically around his tongue which continues to fuck you mercilessly throughout your pleasure.

“Sukuna!” you scream, voice broken.

At the same time, Sukuna sits up slightly, one of his upper arms sliding behind your neck to pull you toward him. He captures your mouth in a voracious kiss, devouring your cries of ecstasy. His tongue invades your mouth at the same rhythm that the one on his stomach continues to penetrate you, as if he wants to fill you from both sides at once.

The kiss is dirty, wet, and possessive. He swallows each of your moans while you tremble and cum for a long time, your body shaken by spasms. His kiss muffles your complaints, his tongue turning against yours, nibbling your lower lip.

“There… good girl,” he murmurs against your mouth between two kisses, his voice low and hoarse. “Cum hard for me. Your little pussy squeezes my tongue like it never wants to let it go. You’re so greedy… even when I’m injured, you can’t help but get fucked by your king.”

You continue to tremble, the orgasm seeming to last forever. Your hands remain pressed on his massive chest, feeling the powerful beats of his heart under your palms.

The tongue on his stomach gradually slows down, gently licking your sensitive walls to prolong your pleasure, collecting every drop of your arousal.

Sukuna doesn’t break the kiss right away. He continues to kiss you deeply, almost tenderly this time, while holding you against him. When your trembling finally subsides, he pulls back just enough to look you in the eyes, his four red eyes shining with satisfaction and a desire still far from satiated.

“You came so hard…” he breathes against your lips, a carnivorous smile on his lips. “But we’re far from finished, my beautiful.”

Sukuna kisses you again with intensity, swallowing every little cry and every ragged breath. When he finally pulls away slightly, a string of saliva still connects your lips. His four eyes stare at you with dark and burning satisfaction.

“Look at you…” he murmurs in a hoarse and dirty voice, while slowly licking your lower lip. “You just came like never before on your king’s tongue. You flooded my entire stomach. What a dirty little concubine you are.”

You don’t answer, body still sensitive, cheeks burning. Sukuna gives you no rest. His two lower arms firmly grip your hips and lift you just enough to withdraw his tongue from your intimacy. A wet and obscene sound echoes as it slides out of you, leaving you empty and throbbing.

He lays you back on his chest, but this time he sits up a little more, leaning against the cushions despite his injuries. His massive body still dominates you. In one fluid movement, he uses his upper arms to turn you slightly, placing you lower on his abdomen, right above his hakama stretched to the extreme by his two erections.

“Sukuna…” you breathe, still breathless.

“Shh,” he growls, nibbling your neck. “You don’t think I’m done with you, do you?”

His hands explore your naked body with greed. One kneads your breast, pinching your still sensitive nipple, while the other slides between your thighs to slowly caress your swollen and soaked lips. He spreads your arousal all over your slit, making you shiver.

“You’re soaked… ready to take my dick.” His voice is low, dangerous. “But first, I want you to feel how hard I am for you.”

He presses you more firmly against him. Through the stretched fabric of his hakama, you clearly feel his two thick and burning cocks. They throb against your ass and intimacy, enormous, hard as stone.

You can’t help but moan as you rub lightly against them. Sukuna laughs lowly, amused and excited. He grabs your hips and makes you move slowly against him, sliding you back and forth over his two erections still trapped under the fabric.

“You feel them?” he murmurs against your ear, nibbling the lobe. “Two big cocks waiting only to fill you. You are the only one who has the right to take them. The only one I want to fuck until you cry with pleasure.”

Your hands remain placed on his chest, seeking support as he guides you faster. The friction of the fabric against your sensitive clit makes you pant. Sukuna continues to speak, his voice becoming rougher and rougher:

“You are mine. My favorite. My personal little slut. Even when I come back from the battlefield covered in blood, it’s you I want to destroy and rebuild with my fucking dicks. Say it. Say you want me to fuck you.”

“I… I want you to fuck me, Sukuna… please my king.” you moan, voice trembling.

Satisfied, he growls and, with an impatient gesture, uses two of his arms to lower his hakama enough. His two thick cocks finally spring out, heavy, veined and glistening with precum.

The one underneath, slightly smaller than the first, rubs directly against your slit, while the first presses against your clit and belly.

He doesn’t penetrate you right away. He makes you wait a little longer, slowly rubbing his two members against you, sliding them between your soaked lips without entering.

“Look how wet you are for this,” he breathes while looking into your eyes. “You were made for me. To take everything I give you.”

Finally, he aligns his first cock against your entrance. With a slow but firm thrust of his hips, he begins to sink into you. The thickness is impressive. You moan at length, nails digging into his shoulders, as he stretches you progressively, inch by inch, until he is deeply buried inside you.

“Fuck so tight…” he growls, teeth clenched in pleasure. He remains still for a moment, savoring the sensation, then begins to move. Slow and deep thrusts at first, then more and more powerful. His second cock rubs perfectly against your clit with every movement, adding intense stimulation.

His four arms completely surround you: two on your hips to guide you, one on your neck to kiss you, and the last caressing your breast. He kisses you again, devouring your moans while he fucks you with an increasingly sustained rhythm.

“Take it all,” he murmurs against your mouth between two kisses. “Take your king’s cock like the good little concubine you are for me. I’m going to fill you until you can’t walk tomorrow.”

You pant against his lips, body completely overwhelmed. Each deep thrust drives his massive first cock to the very bottom of you. You feel it so thick, so long, that it directly touches the cervix of your uterus with every push.

The pressure is intense, almost too much, a mix of burning pleasure and a delicious slight pain that makes you tremble. Your belly swells slightly every time he sinks completely, as if your body is struggling to accept him entirely.

Every movement creates a perfect friction that sends electric shocks through your entire body.

“Sukuna… ahh… it’s too deep…” you moan, voice broken. He laughs lowly, a hoarse and satisfied sound, while accelerating the rhythm.

His hips slap against yours with more force. Your intimacy contracts violently around him, squeezing his veined length as if it refuses to let him go.

“You feel that?” he growls against your ear, nibbling your skin. “My big cock hitting the bottom of your belly. I’m touching your little uterus.”

His crude words make you moan louder. Your hands tremble on his chest, nails digging into his tattooed skin. The heat of his massive body, the smell of blood, sweat and sex, everything overwhelms you.

Sukuna slightly changes the angle of his hips, and suddenly every thrust hits that sensitive spot inside you even better. You cry out, body shaking. Your thighs tremble around him, your arousal flowing abundantly along his cock.

He fucks you harder, faster, using his four arms to hold you exactly how he wants. One of his upper arms slides between your bodies to pinch your clit between two fingers, rubbing it at the same time as his second cock stimulates it.

The pleasure rises quickly, almost unbearable. You feel your second orgasm approaching like a gigantic wave. “Sukuna… I… I’m going to cum…!” you sob, tears beginning to pearl at the corners of your eyes.

“Cum,” he orders in a hoarse and authoritative voice. “Cum on my cock like the good little favorite you are. Let me feel your pussy squeezing me.”

You cum.

The orgasm hits you with incredible violence. Your body arches violently, head thrown back. Your inner walls contract spasmodically around his thick cock, squeezing and pulsing as if you want to milk him.

Tears flow down your cheeks, a mix of overwhelming pleasure and raw emotion. Your hands desperately cling to his chest while you scream his name.

“Sukuna…! I love you…!” you sob between two spasms, voice broken by pleasure and tears. “I love you… mhh- I love you so much…”

These words seem to strike him. Sukuna groans deeply, his massive body twitching beneath you. His four eyes widen slightly, then darken with an intense emotion he almost never shows.

He holds you tighter against him, his arms enveloping you while he continues to penetrate you through your orgasm, prolonging your pleasure until you are completely exhausted and limp against his chest.

“…Idiot,” he murmurs against your hair, his voice hoarse but strangely soft. He kisses your forehead, your temples, wiping your tears with one of his thumbs. “You cry while telling me that… You really are my only weakness.”

You remain nestled against his massive chest, body still shaken by light spasms, when Sukuna decides he is not done with you. In one fluid and powerful movement, he rolls you onto your back without fully pulling out of you.

He positions himself above you, placing you in missionary. His imposing body completely dominates you, his four arms resting on either side of your head and on your hips.

You are already hypersensitive after your intense orgasm. Your intimacy is still pulsing around his cock, swollen and ultra-sensitive. As soon as he moves slightly, a high-pitched moan escapes you.

“Sukuna… wait… I’m too sensitive…” you breathe in a trembling voice.

But he doesn’t listen. On the contrary, a carnivorous smile stretches his lips as he adjusts his position. He passes your legs over his hips, opening you completely to him, and sinks in with one deep thrust to the bottom.

“You’re going to take more,” he growls, voice thick with desire. “I want to feel you cum around me one more time. I want to get you pregnant.”

He begins to fuck you with passion, long, powerful and measured thrusts. Each push makes his hips slap against yours. His massive cock touches your cervix again, even more intense in this position. The sensation is overwhelming — you are overstimulated, every friction makes you jolt, tremble, and cry with pleasure.

“Ahh! Sukuna… it’s too much… too deep!” you sob, hands gripping his shoulders.

Your inner walls, hypersensitive, contract violently around him with every movement. Every time he sinks completely, an electric shock runs through your belly. Your clit rubs against the base of his second cock with every thrust, adding unbearable stimulation.

Sukuna looks you straight in the eyes, his four red eyes burning with a rare emotion. He lowers his head and kisses you deeply, swallowing your moans and your cries while continuing to pound you with passion.

His hips roll with force, but there is something different this time: it is no longer just raw desire, it is possessive, almost desperate.

“Look how you squeeze me…” he murmurs against your mouth between two kisses. “Even after cumming, your little pussy wants more. You were made for me.”

Your tears flow nonstop down your cheeks. The pleasure is so intense it almost becomes painful, but you don’t want him to stop. Your legs tremble around his hips, your nails scratch his tattooed back.

Sukuna gradually accelerates, his thrusts becoming deeper, faster. The room is filled with the wet sound of your bodies slapping, your high-pitched moans and his hoarse growls.

He slides one of his hands on your cheek, wiping your tears with his thumb while continuing to fuck you passionately.

“Listen to me,” he breathes against your lips, voice low and hoarse. “I love you.”

These words, spoken by the King of Curses, make you open your eyes wide despite the tears.

“I love you, little idiot,” he repeats louder, burying his cock to the bottom with every word. “You are the only one I love. The only one who can make me feel this. The only one I will never destroy.”

His words make you tip over. Your third orgasm hits you brutally, even more violent than the previous ones. You scream his name, body arched beneath him, your pussy contracting so hard around his cock that Sukuna groans at length, teeth clenched.

He holds you against him, his four arms completely enveloping you while he continues to pound you through your orgasm, prolonging your pleasure until you are completely exhausted, sobbing and trembling beneath him.

“I love you my king…” you murmur weakly between two sobs, completely overwhelmed by emotion and pleasure.

He kisses you tenderly on the forehead, then on the lips, finally slowing his movements to let you breathe. His massive body remains pressed against yours, his cock still deeply buried inside you, throbbing.

“I know,” he murmurs against your skin, his voice softer than it has ever been. “And I will never let you go. You are mine. Forever.”

His movements become more erratic, deeper. You feel his dick swell even more inside you, throbbing violently against the hypersensitive walls of your intimacy. Every thrust makes your whole body tremble.

Sukuna buries his face in your neck, his teeth brushing your skin while his hips slap harder against yours. His growls become rougher, more animal.

“I’m going to cum…” he growls against your ear, voice broken with pleasure. “I’m going to fill you to the bottom, my darling…”

You can only moan weakly, completely overwhelmed. Your hands slide over his back, clinging to him as if your life depends on it. You feel the pressure rising in him, his muscles tensing under your fingers.

With one final powerful and deep thrust, Sukuna sinks all the way in, the head of his cock pressed directly against your cervix. He cums in a long and guttural groan that vibrates through his entire chest.

You feel the hot and abundant jets of his cum pouring into you, thick, burning, filling your belly with powerful pulses. There is so much that you feel completely flooded.

His second member also throbs against your clit, spreading its hot seed over your belly and chest in long jets.

Sukuna continues to move slowly while he cums, as if to push his seed as deep as possible inside you. His four arms hold you firmly against him, keeping you prisoner under his massive body while he empties himself completely.

When he finally finishes, he remains buried inside you, his cock still throbbing, refusing to pull out. He collapses slightly on you, careful not to crush you completely with his weight. The mouth on his stomach gently licks your skin, tasting the sweat and traces of seed on your belly.

You stay like this for a long moment, only the sound of your panting breaths filling the room. Sukuna finally raises his head and looks at you. His four red eyes are softer, almost vulnerable.

He wipes your remaining tears with his thumb, then kisses you slowly, tenderly, a kiss very different from the previous ones: deep, languorous, filled with an emotion he only shows to you.

“You are mine,” he murmurs against your lips. “Not just my concubine. Not just my favorite. You are the one I love. The only one who can make me say such ridiculous things.”

You smile weakly, still trembling, exhausted but happy. Your hands gently caress his chest, avoiding his wounds which have almost finished closing.

Sukuna rolls onto his side without pulling out of you, pulling you with him so you end up lying on his chest. His four arms envelop you like a warm and protective cage. The mouth on his stomach lets out a hot and satisfied breath against your belly.

He slowly caresses your hair with one of his upper hands, his other arms holding you against him. The silence is peaceful, disturbed only by your breathing which gradually slows down.

After a long moment, he murmurs in a deep and serious voice:

“Marry me.”

You raise your head slightly, surprised. His four red eyes stare at you with a rare, almost solemn intensity.

“I want you to become my queen, not just my favorite. I will kill the other concubines. They serve no purpose. They are just useless objects. Only you matter. I will have them executed tomorrow morning.”

Your heart clenches. Despite the fatigue and the warmth of the moment, you gently shake your head. “No, Sukuna… please. Don’t kill them. They have done nothing wrong. They are just… there. I don’t want their blood to be shed because of me. Let them live. Send them far away if you want, but don’t kill them.”

He frowns, visibly displeased. The mouth on his stomach growls slightly.

“You are too soft,” he growls. “That’s why I love you.” He sighs, then finally nods reluctantly. “Very well. I will banish them from the palace tomorrow. But only you will remain by my side. Forever.”

You smile weakly and snuggle tighter against him, placing a kiss on his chest.

“Thank you… my king.”

Nine months later.

Spring bathed the palace in golden light. The cherry trees in the private garden that Sukuna had enlarged for you were in full bloom.

In the royal chamber, you were lying on the platform, exhausted but radiant, holding a small sleeping treasure against you.

Your daughter.

She was tiny, with a tuft of silky black hair, and two small red eyes that sometimes opened to observe the world with curiosity. Two tiny black marks, similar to very small tattoos, adorned her little arms. She had inherited her father’s strength, but also your gentleness.

Sukuna was sitting by your side, in his true form. Two of his arms held you against him, while another delicately supported your daughter’s head. For the first time in his long existence, the King of Curses seemed almost… peaceful.

“She is perfect,” he murmured, his voice low and awed. He brushed the little hand that had closed around one of his fingers. “She will probably be stronger than me. And as beautiful as you.”

You laugh softly, tired but happy.

“She will have your character… and I hope a little of my patience.” Sukuna leaned down and kissed your forehead with infinite tenderness, then placed a very soft kiss on your daughter’s forehead.

“I never thought this would happen to me one day,” he confessed. “Loving someone. Having a family. But you… you changed everything.”

You snuggle against him, your daughter nestled between the two of you. “We are a family now, Sukuna. You, me, and her.”

He tightened his arms around you, protective, possessive, but above all loving.

Outside, the world continued to fear the King of Curses. But here, in this room filled with light and cherry blossom petals entering through the window, he was no longer just a man. A husband. A father. He had finally found something more precious than power.

“I love you,” he murmured against your hair. “I love you too,” you replied smiling, eyes shining with happiness.

Your daughter let out a small sleepy sigh, as if she approved. And for the first time in centuries, the King finally felt complete.

masterlist

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[belimah]

:P

[fireflyschiikawa]

tiger!kuna you are so loved

[seoyue]

murder, your grace?

synopsis: You die completely at random and wake up in the manhwa you were reading… as the villainous wife of the Duke of the North, no less. The same woman who spent the last six months giving her husband the cold shoulder, ruining their marriage, and basically speedrunning her own execution. Now you have exactly one job: fix this disaster of a relationship before your husband decides to finish what the original plot started.

pairing: villainess!reader x northern duke!sukuna

mdni | warnings: smut, fem reader, rough sex, size kink & size difference, possessive/jealous behavior, degradation, dirty talk, marking, spanking, creampie, multiple positions

word count: 14.3k

a\n: longest fic i’ve written so far. nearly lost my mind, almost scrapped it entirely, questioned every life choice that led me here, but somehow, against all odds… it’s done. so glad its over LOL

You died while reading a manhwa.

One moment you were curled up in bed at 3 a.m., a blanket pulled up to your chin, the only light in your dark room coming from your phone screen. Your eyes were glued to the latest chapter of The Duke’s Black Heart, thumb hovering over the final panel as frustration and reluctant longing twisted in your chest. The illustration was breathtakingly brutal: Duke Ryomen Sukuna standing tall amid swirling snow, pink hair tousled by the wind, crimson eyes empty of mercy, black tattoos stark against his skin as he looked down at the broken body of his wife.

The page loaded one last time. The panel filled your screen. Then your vision blurred, the room spun violently, and everything went black. No pain. No final breath. Just sudden, heavy nothing.

And then you woke up somewhere else.

Cold air rushes into your lungs, sharp and biting. Your eyes flutter open slowly, lashes feeling unusually heavy. You’re lying in a massive four-poster bed, the canopy above you made of thick crimson velvet that drapes down like heavy curtains. The silk sheets beneath you are cool and slippery against your skin in a way that feels far too expensive, far too unfamiliar. Thick blankets weighted with fur press down on your body, carrying a faint scent of woodsmoke and aged iron. Your limbs feel wrong — too slender, too delicate. When you lift your hands, they are smaller, with smooth palms and perfectly manicured nails that catch the dim morning light filtering through tall, frost-laced windows.

You push yourself up into a sitting position. The silk nightgown slips off one shoulder. A large, ornately framed mirror stands across the room, reflecting the lavish bedchamber: dark wood furniture, heavy tapestries on the walls, a fireplace crackling faintly in the corner. You swing your legs over the edge of the bed, bare feet meeting cold stone that sends a shiver racing up your spine.

You turn toward the mirror.

The face staring back at you is not your own. It is strikingly beautiful in a refined, aristocratic way that feels both alien and intimidating.

You have transmigrated.

You are now the villainess.

Duke Ryomen Sukuna’s wife of exactly six months.

The realization slams into you like ice water. Memories that don’t belong to you flood your mind in vivid, unrelenting flashes. The forced marriage ceremony under the Emperor’s decree. The wedding night where her body had lain stiff and unresponsive beneath his, silent tears tracking down her cheeks as she called him a beast under her breath and swore she would never allow him to touch her again. Six agonizing months of total, deliberate silence: never speaking a single word directly to him, never sharing his table, never sharing his bed. Only curt notes passed through servants, hidden schemes whispered to outsiders, and a cold, hateful distance that grew sharper every day. Sukuna’s contempt had hardened into something lethal.

In the original story, he kills her. Publicly. Brutally. Before the year is out — dragging her into the courtyard and ending her life with the same large, scarred hands you’ve fantasized about for months.

And now I’m her.

Your breath catches sharply in your throat. Panic explodes in your chest, tight and suffocating. Your hands fly up to press against your sternum, feeling the frantic thud of a heart that isn’t supposed to be yours. Cold sweat prickles along your hairline and down your back. The room feels smaller, the air thicker. If I don’t change this right now, he will kill me. I have to win him over — the man I’ve been completely obsessed with — before he decides I’m still that same woman who deserves to die.

The heavy wooden door creaks open. Two maids slip inside, heads bowed low, shoulders hunched like they’re expecting the worst. They carry a tray between them with a pitcher of steaming water, neatly folded linens, and a small bowl of scented oil. Their footsteps are quick but nearly silent on the cold stone floor, as if they’re trying to disturb you as little as possible.

“My Lady,” the older maid says quietly, almost whispering as she carefully sets the tray down on the side table. “We’re here to help you dress. Your usual silks today?”

You swallow and keep your voice soft. “No, not the silks. Something simpler and warmer, please. I’m going down to have breakfast with the Duke in the dining hall.”

The younger maid’s eyes go wide. She almost drops the pitcher, water sloshing dangerously over the rim and dripping onto the floor. “Breakfast… with His Grace?” she blurts, voice cracking with surprise. “In the dining hall?”

The older maid quickly elbows her and forces a nervous smile, though her hands are visibly shaking. “Are you sure, My Lady? He always eats alone. He might not… like it if you show up.”

You nod, sliding your legs over the side of the bed. The stone floor is icy against your bare feet, sending a shiver up your legs. “I’m sure. Please help me get ready.” You pause, then add gently, “And thank you. Both of you.”

The maids go completely still. The younger one stares at you with her mouth slightly open, pitcher forgotten in her hands. The older one blinks rapidly, her hands freezing mid-air above the tray. They exchange a wide-eyed, startled glance, the kind that speaks volumes without a single word. The silence stretches for a long, awkward moment, thick with confusion and unease.

Finally, the older maid clears her throat. “Of course, My Lady. Right away.”

They hesitate for another heartbeat, still stealing uncertain glances at you, before hurrying into motion. Their hands are a little clumsier than usual as they help you out of the nightgown and into a heavy charcoal gown with long sleeves. The soft wool feels warm and comforting against the chill in the air. While they brush out your hair and pin it up in a simple style, they keep darting quick, nervous looks at your reflection in the mirror. The younger maid’s fingers tremble slightly as she works, and the older one’s breathing is a touch too shallow.

They finish dressing you in tense, heavy silence. Once they step back, you thank them again. They both bow deeply, still visibly unsettled, and you step out into the torch-lit corridor. Servants you pass press themselves flat against the walls, whispering frantically the moment your back is turned. Your heart hammers louder with every step toward the grand dining hall.

The massive double doors swing open with a low creak.

There he is.

Duke Ryomen Sukuna sits alone at the head of the long oak table. Pale morning light filters through the tall windows, casting sharp shadows across his face. Loose strands of pink hair have escaped their tie and fall across his forehead. His dark tunic stretches tight over broad, powerfully muscled shoulders, the collar open just enough to reveal the edges of intricate black tattoos that swirl across his collarbones and down his arms. Crimson eyes are narrowed in concentration as he cuts into a thick slab of meat with slow, deliberate strokes of his knife. Old scars mark the visible skin of his neck and the backs of his large, calloused hands. He radiates raw, quiet danger — the kind that makes the air feel heavier. This is the man you’ve spent months fantasizing about, the one whose every appearance in the manhwa made your pulse race.

You walk straight to the chair on his right — the seat that has stayed empty for the entire six months of your marriage — and sit down.

His knife stops mid-cut.

The silence is immediate and suffocating, broken only by the soft crackle of the hearth fire.

Sukuna’s crimson gaze lifts slowly. It locks onto you with raw disbelief and burning disgust. His jaw clenches, the scar along his cheek tightening. For a long moment he simply stares, like he’s trying to decide whether you’re real or some new form of insult.

“What the fuck are you doing here?” His voice is low and rough, laced with irritation.

You swallow hard, hands trembling under the table. You force a small, nervous smile and say softly, “Good morning, husband. I thought it might be nice to have breakfast together for once.”

The words hang in the air.

Sukuna’s expression darkens. He sets the knife down with a sharp clink that echoes through the hall. Slowly he rises to his full height, towering over you — tall, broad-chested, every inch the warlord who has killed without hesitation. The look he gives you is ice-cold.

“You thought it would be nice?” His voice is low, cold, and dripping with contempt. “Six fucking months you couldn’t even be bothered to speak to me… and now you suddenly decide to play house?”

He pushes the chair back with a harsh scrape and rises to his full height, towering over you. His large hand clenches so tightly around the back of the chair that the wood groans in protest.

“Just looking at you ruins my appetite.”

Without another word, he turns sharply on his heel. His cloak snaps behind him like a whip as he stalks out of the hall. The heavy doors slam shut with a deafening boom that echoes through the room and makes the silverware rattle on the table.

You’re left completely alone at the long table, staring at his abandoned plate as the food rapidly cools. Your heart pounds violently in your chest.

This is going to be so much harder than I thought.

But you don’t run. You pick up your fork with still-shaking fingers, take a small bite of the now-lukewarm food, and force yourself to swallow. A heavy, determined weight settles in your stomach alongside the food.

The rest of the morning dragged by in a haze of nervous energy. You moved carefully through the castle, speaking softly to the servants, thanking them for small things, and trying not to overwhelm anyone with your sudden change in behavior. Every time someone flinched or stared too long, your stomach twisted. You knew they were waiting for the old you to snap back into place.

By mid-afternoon the light outside had shifted to a softer gold, and the castle felt a little less oppressive. You decided it was time to try something more direct.

You found one of the kitchen maids and asked her to prepare a simple tray — strong black tea, warm bread, and a few slices of roasted meat. These were the things you remembered him enjoying in the manhwa, the small details you’d clung to while reading late at night. Nothing too elaborate. When the tray was ready, you took it yourself, ignoring the wide-eyed, startled looks from the staff as you carried it down the long corridor toward Sukuna’s private study. Your heart beat faster with every step.

Your heart was hammering so hard it felt like it was trying to climb out of your throat. Two guards outside the heavy double doors stared at you in open confusion but didn’t stop you. You paused for a second, took a steadying breath, and knocked once.

A gruff “Come in” came from inside.

You pushed the door open and stepped into the study.

The room was exactly the kind of place you’d pictured him in — tall shelves lined with old books and rolled scrolls, a massive oak desk covered in maps and scattered letters, weapons mounted neatly on one wall. A fire burned low in the hearth, filling the air with the faint smell of smoke and polished leather. Sukuna sat behind the desk, quill in hand, pink hair tied back messily with a few loose strands falling forward. He didn’t look up right away, focused on whatever he was writing.

Then his crimson eyes flicked up.

The moment they landed on you holding the tray, the temperature in the room seemed to drop. His expression shifted from irritation to pure suspicion in a heartbeat.

“What the hell is this?” he asked, voice low and flat, like he was already tired of whatever game he thought you were playing.

You stepped further inside and carefully set the tray down on the edge of his desk, trying not to let your hands shake too obviously. “I noticed you didn’t eat anything at breakfast,” you said quietly. “So I brought some tea and a few things. It’s nothing fancy. I just thought… maybe you’d be hungry by now.”

Sukuna leaned back in his chair, studying you like you were a problem he couldn’t quite solve. The silence stretched out, thick and uncomfortable. He glanced at the tray, then back at your face.

“You brought me food,” he said slowly, almost like he was testing the words. “You suddenly show up with tea and bread like we’re… what? Friends now?”

He pushed his chair back and stood, circling around the desk with slow, deliberate steps until he was standing right in front of you. He was so tall you had to tilt your head back to look at him. Up close he was even more overwhelming — the heat radiating from his body, the faint scent of leather and steel and something darker, the way his broad shoulders seemed to fill the space between you.

You forced yourself to hold his gaze. “I know I’ve been terrible to you,” you said, voice soft but steady. “I don’t expect you to believe me right away. I just… I want to try and do better. That’s all.”

Sukuna’s jaw tightened. He reached out and picked up one of the slices of bread, turning it over in his large hand as if checking it for poison. Then he dropped it back onto the tray with a quiet scoff.

“You want to try,” he repeated, the words laced with disbelief and a sharp edge of mockery. “How convenient. Tell me, wife — what exactly changed overnight? Did someone put you up to this?”

His hand suddenly came up, fingers gripping your chin firmly but not harshly, tilting your face up so you couldn’t look away. His touch was warm, rough from years of fighting, and the closeness made your pulse spike.

“Or are you just scared I’ll finally do what everyone’s been expecting me to do for months?” he asked, voice low and dangerous.

Your breath caught. Being this close to him — feeling the intensity rolling off him in waves — made fear and something far more complicated twist together in your stomach.

“I’m not here to scheme,” you whispered. “I just don’t want things to keep being like this.”

Sukuna stared at you for a long, heavy moment. His thumb brushed once over your jaw, almost absentmindedly, before he let go and stepped back.

“Get out,” he said, the words cold but quieter than you expected. “And take your pity tray with you.”

He didn’t move away any further. He stayed standing there, arms crossed over his broad chest, watching you with dark, unreadable eyes — like he was waiting to see whether you would actually leave… or do something else.

You didn’t argue.

You simply picked up the tray with both hands, gave him a small nod, and left the study without another word. The heavy doors clicked shut behind you. The hallway felt longer than usual as you walked back toward your chambers, the tray growing heavier with every step.

Once inside your room, you set the tray down on a side table and closed the door. Then you sat on the edge of the bed, staring at the floor.

That went badly.

You let out a slow breath, rubbing your hands over your thighs. The memory of Sukuna’s cold stare and dismissive words kept replaying in your head. He hadn’t even touched the food. He’d barely listened.

Of course he didn’t. Months of silence doesn’t just disappear because I brought him tea.

You leaned back on your hands, looking up at the canopy above the bed. The situation felt heavier now. Fixing this relationship was going to be a lot harder than you’d hoped. He clearly still saw you as the same person who had ignored and schemed against him for half a year. And why wouldn’t he?

If you couldn’t turn this around, things were only going to get worse. You didn’t want to think about how the original story ended, but the possibility lingered in the back of your mind anyway.

You sat there for a while, the afternoon light slowly shifting across the room. Eventually you stood up, walked over to the window, and looked out at the grounds. Your mind kept turning over what to try next. Another small gesture? Giving him more space? Something else entirely?

It was going to take time. A lot of it. And patience you weren’t sure you had.

You sighed quietly and moved away from the window, already thinking about what you could do tomorrow.

The next morning arrived quietly.

You woke earlier than usual, the soft grey light filtering through the tall windows pulling you from a restless sleep. For a few minutes you lay there, staring at the velvet canopy above the bed, thinking about yesterday. The rejections still stung, but you refused to give up after just one bad day.

You got up, washed, and chose a simple but elegant deep-grey gown. After eating a light breakfast alone in your room, you decided on a different approach today. No trays, no forcing your way into his meals. Just quiet presence.

You made your way to the castle’s main library — a spacious, peaceful room lined with tall shelves of books and scrolls. You picked a thick volume on regional history from the shelves and settled into a comfortable chair near the window where the light was good. Not too close to his usual spot, but not hiding either.

About an hour later, the door opened.

Sukuna walked in, still wearing his cloak from whatever business he’d been handling outside. He stopped short when he saw you already there, book open in your lap.

For a brief second his expression flickered with surprise before settling back into that familiar guarded look.

“You’re here too now,” he said, voice flat as he moved toward the large table in the center of the room. He pulled out a chair and sat down, spreading some documents in front of him. “Is there anywhere in this castle that’s still mine?”

You closed your book slowly and looked up at him.

“I can leave if you want,” you offered calmly. “I just thought it might be nice to read in here. It’s quiet.”

Sukuna didn’t tell you to go. He leaned back in his chair and studied you for a moment, crimson eyes sharp and assessing.

“You’ve been talking quite a bit these past two days,” he said, tone dry. “More than I’m used to.”

You gave a small, honest shrug. “I know. I’m trying to change that.”

He tapped his fingers once against the table, watching you openly now. “Trying,” he echoed, like he was testing the word. “That’s what you keep saying. But I still don’t know why.”

You hesitated, then answered simply, “Because I don’t like how things have been between us. And I think we could be… better. If we tried.”

Sukuna let out a short, humorless breath and leaned back further, still studying you.

“Better,” he repeated. “That’s a bold claim.” He paused, then added quietly, “Don’t get your hopes up. I’m not interested in pretending.”

But he didn’t ask you to leave.

You stayed in the library for another hour, reading in silence while he worked across from you. He didn’t speak again, but every so often you caught him glancing in your direction — wary, confused, and just a little unsettled.

It wasn’t much.

But it also wasn’t outright rejection.

You stayed in the library for another hour, the only sounds being the occasional rustle of paper and the soft crackle of the fire. You kept your eyes mostly on your book, though you were barely absorbing the words. Every now and then you felt Sukuna’s gaze on you — heavy, searching, and still full of suspicion.

Eventually, he set his quill down with a quiet tap. He leaned back in his chair, arms crossing over his broad chest as he looked at you directly.

“If you’re serious about wanting to fix things,” he said, voice low and even, “then maybe you should start by actually appearing publicly with me.”

You looked up from your book, surprised. He continued before you could respond.

“There’s a ball tomorrow night at the capital. I’m expected to attend.” He paused, studying your reaction. “Rumors have already reached half the empire that my wife hates me. It would be good to change the public perception a little. At least act like a fucking couple for once.”

The invitation — if it could even be called that — hung in the air. It wasn’t warm or romantic. It was a test, plain and simple.

You closed your book slowly and met his eyes. “I’ll go with you,” you said without hesitation. “If that’s what you want.”

Sukuna watched you for a long moment, as if waiting for you to take it back. When you didn’t, something unreadable flickered across his face.

“Good,” he said simply. Then he stood up, gathering some of his documents. “Be ready by evening tomorrow. Don’t make me wait.”

He headed toward the door, cloak shifting over his shoulders. Just before he left, he paused and glanced back at you one last time.

“And try not to embarrass me,” he added, though his tone was less biting than before. Almost… cautious.

The door clicked shut behind him, leaving you alone in the quiet library once again.

You let out a long breath and leaned back in your chair, heart still racing. A public ball. Tomorrow. With Sukuna.

This was a big step — and a dangerous one. You’d have to be careful. Very careful.

But it was also an opportunity. A chance to stand beside him in front of everyone and start showing that you were different.

You stood up, clutching the book to your chest, a mix of nerves and quiet determination settling in your stomach.

Tomorrow it is.

The next day passed in a quiet blur of nerves and preparation.

You spent most of the afternoon trying not to overthink everything, but as evening approached, the anxiety crept in anyway. When the maids finally arrived to help you get ready, they moved around your room with careful, slightly confused energy — still adjusting to this gentler version of their mistress.

You chose a deep crimson gown made of rich, heavy silk that flowed elegantly to the floor. It had long, fitted sleeves and a modestly elegant neckline that showed just enough collarbone to feel refined rather than daring. The maids helped you into it, lacing the back with steady fingers while you stood in front of the large mirror. The fabric felt cool and luxurious against your skin, the color bringing out a quiet intensity you hadn’t expected.

They brushed your hair until it gleamed, working through every tangle with patient strokes. Most of it was pinned up into an elegant style with delicate silver pins, but they left a few soft strands loose to frame your face. One of the maids added a simple but beautiful necklace with a single dark gem that rested just below your collarbone, along with matching earrings. A touch of rose-tinted balm was applied to your lips, and a light dusting of powder to even your complexion.

You stared at your reflection the entire time, heart beating faster. This version of you looked every bit the refined duchess — poised, beautiful, and completely unlike the cold, silent woman the public had come to expect at Sukuna’s side.

“You look beautiful, My Lady,” the older maid said softly as she stepped back, a hint of genuine surprise in her voice.

“Thank you,” you replied quietly, smoothing your hands down the front of the gown. Inside, your stomach was in knots. This would be your first real public appearance with Sukuna. Everyone would be watching. Waiting for the usual tension or outright disdain they’d grown used to seeing between the Duke and his wife.

A firm knock sounded at the door.

“He’s ready for you, My Lady,” a servant called from the hallway.

You took one last steadying breath, thanked the maids again, and stepped out.

Sukuna was waiting in the main hall, dressed in formal black with subtle gold embroidery along the collar and cuffs. His pink hair was neatly tied back, and the sight of him in full formal attire made your chest tighten. He looked every bit the powerful duke — tall, imposing, and dangerously handsome.

His crimson eyes swept over you slowly, from head to toe. For a moment his expression was unreadable.

“You’re actually coming,” he said, voice low. It wasn’t quite a question.

“I said I would,” you replied simply.

He gave a short nod, then offered his arm. The gesture felt stiff, like he was still testing whether you’d take it or pull away at the last second.

You slipped your hand through his arm without hesitation. His muscles were tense beneath your fingers, but he didn’t pull away.

As you walked together toward the waiting carriage, he spoke again, keeping his voice low enough that only you could hear.

“People talk. A lot. If we’re going to do this, at least try to look like you don’t hate being next to me.”

You glanced up at him. “I don’t hate it.”

Sukuna didn’t respond, but his grip on your arm tightened just slightly — not painful, just… firmer. Like he was anchoring himself.

The carriage ride to the capital was quiet, the only sounds being the wheels on the road and the occasional shift of fabric. Sukuna sat across from you, watching the passing scenery with a distant expression. Every so often his gaze would drift back to you, as if he still couldn’t quite believe you were really there.

When the carriage finally slowed to a stop outside the grand hall, music and warm light spilled out into the night. You could already hear the murmur of voices and feel the weight of the eyes that would soon be on both of you.

Sukuna stepped out first, then offered his hand to help you down. His palm was warm and steady against yours.

“Ready?” he asked, voice gruff.

You nodded, slipping your hand back into the crook of his arm.

“Then let’s go act like a fucking couple.”

The grand hall glowed under hundreds of crystal chandeliers, casting warm golden light across marble floors and velvet-draped walls. Music from a full orchestra swelled through the air, mingling with the low hum of conversation, the clink of champagne glasses, and the rustle of silk and satin gowns. The scent of expensive perfumes, fresh flowers, and roasted meats from the banquet tables hung heavy in the room.

The moment you and Sukuna stepped through the tall arched entrance together, the entire atmosphere shifted.

Conversations faltered. Heads turned. A ripple of surprised murmurs spread through the crowd like a wave.

You felt every eye on you. Some were curious, some shocked, many openly calculating. The Duke and Duchess of the North rarely appeared together in public — and when they had in the past, it had always been marked by cold distance and icy silence.

Tonight was different.

Sukuna’s arm was solid beneath your fingers as he guided you forward. His posture was straight and commanding, every inch the powerful Duke Sukuna the empire feared and respected. You stayed close, your hand resting lightly but deliberately on his arm, chin lifted with quiet confidence.

A portly lord with a heavy gold chain and an embroidered waistcoat approached first, bowing deeply.

“Your Grace, Duke Sukuna,” he said smoothly, then turned to you with a slightly wider smile. “And Duchess… what an unexpected pleasure to see you both together this evening.”

Sukuna gave a curt nod. “My wife wished to attend. I saw no reason to refuse her.”

The lord’s eyebrows rose, but he recovered quickly. “How wonderful. The two of you make quite the striking pair tonight. The Duke and Duchess of the North, united at last.”

You offered a polite, gentle smile. “Thank you, my lord. It’s a pleasure to be here.”

Sukuna’s arm tensed slightly under your hand, but he didn’t pull away. As the lord moved on, more nobles drifted closer, drawn by the unusual sight. You heard the whispers clearly now.

“...the Duke and Duchess actually look civil…”

“I thought she hated him…”

“Look at them. She’s practically standing with him…”

Sukuna kept you close the entire time, one large hand occasionally resting at the small of your back as you moved through the hall. The touch was possessive, almost protective, even if his face remained cool and composed.

Later, when the orchestra struck up a slower, more intimate melody, Sukuna leaned down, his voice low against your ear.

“Dance with me.”

It wasn’t a question.

You nodded. He led you onto the polished floor, one broad hand settling firmly on your waist while the other held yours. He moved with surprising grace for someone of his size and power — confident, controlled, guiding you effortlessly through the steps. You followed his lead, hyper-aware of every point of contact: the heat of his palm burning through the silk of your gown, the solid wall of his chest so close to yours, the faint scent of leather and smoke that clung to him.

For a few moments the rest of the room seemed to fade.

“You’re doing better than I expected,” he muttered, voice barely audible over the music. His crimson eyes flicked down to meet yours. “People are staring less like they’re waiting for us to start arguing in the middle of the floor.”

You looked up at him, a small genuine smile tugging at your lips. “I told you I wanted to try.”

His grip on your waist tightened just slightly. His thumb brushed once over the fabric of your gown, almost absentmindedly.

“Don’t get comfortable,” he said, though there was less bite in his tone than usual. “This doesn’t mean I trust you yet.”

“I know,” you replied softly. “But thank you for giving me the chance anyway.”

Sukuna didn’t answer. But he also didn’t let go of you when the song ended. Instead, he kept his hand on your lower back as he guided you off the floor, staying closer than strictly necessary.

A short while later, a group of older lords approached Sukuna. One of them — a tall man with silver hair and sharp features — gave a respectful bow.

“Your Grace, if we could steal a moment of your time? There are some matters regarding the northern border that require your input.”

Sukuna’s jaw tightened for a brief second. He glanced down at you, then back at the lords.

“Fine,” he said curtly. “I won’t be long.”

Before he stepped away, he leaned in close to your ear, voice low. “Stay here. Don’t wander off.”

You nodded. His hand lingered on your waist for one extra second before he pulled away and followed the group toward a quieter side balcony for their discussion.

Suddenly, you were alone.

You stood near the edge of the dance floor, champagne glass in hand, trying to look more relaxed than you felt. The weight of curious stares hadn’t faded. A few noblewomen still whispered behind their fans, and every so often someone would glance your way with open speculation.

A deep, smooth voice spoke from your left.

“Duchess, I don’t believe we’ve had the pleasure of a proper introduction tonight.”

You turned to find a tall, broad-shouldered man with dark hair and sharp green eyes watching you with a lazy, confident smile. He was dressed in deep emerald and black, a marquess’s insignia pinned neatly to his lapel.

“Marquess Toji Fushiguro,” he introduced himself with a respectful bow of his head. “I’ve heard quite a bit about you over the years. Though I must say, seeing you here with the Duke tonight is… refreshing.”

His tone was warm and easy, without any obvious scheming edge. You felt yourself relax just a little.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Marquess,” you replied with a small smile. “I’ve heard your name mentioned before. You handle the eastern trade routes, don’t you?”

Toji’s smile widened, looking genuinely pleased that you knew. “I do. Though I’m surprised you’re familiar with such dull matters. Most duchesses prefer to stay far away from trade talk.”

The conversation flowed surprisingly well. He was charming in a straightforward, slightly roguish way — asking light questions about the northern estates, commenting on the music, and even making a dry joke about how stiff most balls tended to be. You found yourself smiling more naturally, the tension in your shoulders easing as you chatted. For the first time that evening, talking to someone felt… comfortable.

Toji tilted his head slightly, green eyes glinting with curiosity. “If I may be bold, Duchess — you seem different tonight than what the rumors suggested. Happier, perhaps?”

You were about to respond when a large, familiar hand suddenly slid around your waist from behind, fingers gripping your hip with clear possessiveness. A warm, solid body pressed against your back, and you didn’t need to turn to know who it was.

Sukuna.

His grip tightened, pulling you back against his chest in one smooth motion. The heat of his body seeped through the silk of your gown, and his thumb brushed slowly over your hip bone — a blatant, territorial claim.

Toji’s easy smile faltered for half a second before he recovered, inclining his head respectfully.

“Duke Sukuna,” he greeted calmly. “I was just keeping your wife company while you were occupied.”

Sukuna’s voice was low and dangerous, rumbling against your back. “I can see that.” His hand stayed firmly on your hip, fingers pressing in just enough to make a point. “Though I don’t recall asking anyone to entertain my duchess.”

You felt the tension rolling off him in waves. His other arm came around your other side, almost caging you against him in front of the entire hall.

Toji raised an eyebrow, still perfectly civil. “No offense meant, Your Grace. It was an honor speaking with the Duchess.”

Sukuna didn’t reply immediately. Instead, he leaned down, lips brushing the shell of your ear as he spoke loud enough for Toji to hear.

“We’re leaving this conversation,” he said flatly. Then, louder, “Come, wife.”

Sukuna didn’t stop walking until he had guided you into a quieter corner of the grand hall, partially shielded by a tall marble pillar and heavy crimson velvet drapes. The music and chatter of the ball felt distant now, muffled. His hand never left your hip. If anything, his grip tightened, fingers digging possessively into the silk of your gown as though he needed the contact to ground himself.

He turned you to face him with surprising care, then backed you gently but firmly against the cool marble pillar. One large hand stayed locked on your waist while the other came up to brace beside your head, effectively caging you in. His body heat enveloped you instantly — warm, solid, and overwhelming. The faint scent of smoke, leather, and something darker clung to him, making your pulse stutter.

“You seemed to be enjoying yourself,” he said, voice low and rough, almost a growl. His crimson eyes burned down into yours with unmistakable intensity. “Laughing with him like the two of you were old friends. Did you forget you’re here with me tonight?”

The jealousy in his tone was unmistakable — sharp, dark, and barely leashed.

You kept your voice calm, though your heart was racing. “We were only talking. He was civil. Nothing more.”

Sukuna’s jaw clenched visibly. His thumb began to trace slow, deliberate circles over the curve of your hip through the thin silk, a possessive caress that sent heat rushing across your skin.

“Civil,” he repeated, the word laced with pure disdain. “I saw the way he looked at you. The way he smiled at you.”

He leaned in closer, his breath warm against the shell of your ear, voice dropping into something dangerously intimate. “And here I thought you were trying to mend our relationship. Yet the second I turn my back, you’re chatting and smiling with another man like it means nothing.”

His grip on your waist tightened, pulling you flush against the hard wall of his chest. You could feel the tension coiled in every muscle, the barely restrained frustration rolling off him in waves. One of his fingers slipped just beneath the edge of your gown, brushing bare skin at your hip — a deliberate, claiming touch.

“I don’t like sharing what’s mine,” he growled softly, lips brushing your ear. “Especially not with bastards like Toji Fushiguro.”

You swallowed hard, breath shallow. “I wasn’t trying to make you jealous. I was just being polite while you were busy.”

Sukuna let out a low, dangerous sound in the back of his throat — half a scoff, half a laugh. His free hand moved to your jaw, tilting your face up so you had no choice but to meet his burning crimson gaze.

“Polite,” he murmured, thumb stroking slowly along your jawline. “You’re lucky I didn’t drag you out of here the moment I saw his hand move toward you.”

His eyes dropped to your lips for a long, heavy second. The air between you felt charged, electric, like the tension might snap at any moment. For a heartbeat you thought he might kiss you right there — hard, claiming, in full view of everyone still watching from across the hall.

Instead, he leaned in until his lips ghosted against your ear again.

“Next time someone approaches you while I’m gone,” he said, voice dark and velvet-rough, “you tell them you belong to me. Clearly. Because if I have to remind them myself… I won’t be nearly as polite.”

His fingers flexed on your hip in one final, possessive squeeze — a silent promise — before he slowly stepped back. His hand remained at the small of your back, heavy and unrelenting.

The music swelled again around you.

Sukuna’s expression smoothed into something cooler and more composed for the public eye, but the heat in his eyes stayed locked on you.

“Come,” he said, voice still low. “We’re dancing again. And this time, you’re not leaving my side for the rest of the night.”

Sukuna led you back onto the dance floor without another word, his hand firm on your waist, pulling you closer than strictly proper for a public setting. The orchestra had shifted into a slower, more intimate melody — strings and soft piano weaving through the air. Couples swirled around you, but you barely noticed them. All you could focus on was the heat of Sukuna’s body pressed against yours, the way his fingers splayed possessively across your lower back, and the unmistakable tension radiating from him.

He moved with controlled grace, guiding you effortlessly through the steps. Your bodies were flush together, chest to chest, his thigh occasionally brushing yours as you turned. Every point of contact felt electric.

“You’re quiet now,” he murmured, voice low enough that only you could hear. His crimson eyes locked onto yours, dark and intense. “What happened to all that polite conversation you were having with the marquess?”

You tilted your head slightly to meet his gaze. “You told me not to leave your side. I’m listening.”

A low sound rumbled in his chest — not quite a laugh. His hand slid lower on your back, fingers pressing in just enough to make your breath hitch.

“Good girl,” he said softly, almost mockingly, though the heat in his eyes was anything but. “Keep listening. I don’t want to see you smiling at anyone else like that tonight.”

The jealousy was still there, simmering just beneath the surface. You could feel it in the way he held you — tighter than necessary, almost like he was daring anyone to try approaching you again.

As you turned under his arm and came back into his embrace, he leaned down, lips brushing the shell of your ear.

“He thought he had a chance,” he continued, voice rough. “Like he didn’t know exactly who you belong to.” His fingers flexed against your waist. “Maybe I need to make it clearer.”

Your heart hammered against your ribs. Being this close to him — surrounded by the swirl of music and watching eyes — made everything feel heightened. The scent of him, the solid strength of his body, the barely restrained possessiveness in every touch.

“Sukuna…” you started softly.

He cut you off by pulling you even closer, until there was almost no space left between you. His breath was warm against your temple.

“You wanted to mend things,” he reminded you, tone dark. “Then stop giving other men reasons to think they can talk to my wife like that. Smile at me. Stay close to me.”

The song began to slow, but Sukuna didn’t release you. He kept you locked in his arms even as other couples started drifting apart. His hand slid up your back, fingers tracing your spine through the silk, a silent claim in front of the entire hall.

When the music finally faded, he didn’t let go right away. He stared down at you, crimson eyes heavy with something dangerous and hungry.

“We’re leaving,” he said abruptly, voice low. “I’ve had enough of these people watching us.”

He didn’t wait for your agreement. His hand stayed firmly at the small of your back as he guided you through the crowd toward the exit. Nobles parted for him instinctively, eyes wide at the sight of the Duke and Duchess leaving together so early — and so obviously entangled.

The cool night air hit you the moment you stepped outside. Sukuna kept you close as you waited for the carriage, his arm wrapped around your waist like he still wasn’t ready to stop touching you.

Once inside the carriage, he sat beside you instead of across from you. The door had barely closed before his hand was back on your thigh, gripping possessively through the fabric of your gown.

The carriage started moving, carrying you both back toward the estate through the dark roads. Sukuna’s hand remained on your thigh the entire ride, heavy and warm — a silent reminder of exactly who you belonged to.

By the time it finally rolled to a stop in front of the castle, the moon hung high in the sky. The journey had been quiet, thick with lingering tension. Sukuna hadn’t spoken a word, but his grip on your thigh never loosened.

When the footman opened the door, Sukuna stepped out first and offered you his hand. You took it, letting him help you down onto the stone steps. The cool night air felt refreshing after the stuffy ballroom, but it did little to calm the nerves fluttering in your stomach.

He walked you inside, his hand resting possessively at the small of your back the whole way through the dimly lit halls. Servants bowed and quickly disappeared when they saw you both. The castle felt unusually still.

When you reached the point where the corridors split — one leading to his private wing, the other to yours — Sukuna stopped. He turned to face you, his expression unreadable in the low torchlight.

“You did well tonight,” he admitted grudgingly, staring at you for a long moment before glancing away. “But if I see him — or anyone else — near you again like that…”

He didn’t finish the sentence. He didn’t need to.

Sukuna gave a short nod, almost like he was dismissing you. “Goodnight.”

He turned to leave, heading toward his own chambers.

You stood there for a second, heart pounding, before the words slipped out — soft, shy, and a little nervous.

“Wait…”

Sukuna paused, looking back at you over his shoulder.

You swallowed, cheeks warming as you forced yourself to speak. “You know… we can’t really fix things as a couple if we keep sleeping separately"

The words hung in the air between you. They sounded bolder than you felt.

Sukuna went completely still. For several long seconds he simply stared at you, crimson eyes narrowing slightly as if he couldn’t quite believe what he’d just heard. The silence stretched, thick and heavy.

Then, slowly, the corner of his mouth twitched — not quite a smile, but something darker, more dangerous.

“Is that so?” he said, voice low and rough. He took one step back toward you, then another, until he was standing close again. “You’re asking to sleep in my bed now?”

He tilted his head, studying your face like he was trying to find the trick in your words. His hand came up, fingers lightly brushing your jaw as he looked down at you.

“Careful, wife,” he murmured, thumb tracing your lower lip. “You keep pushing like this… I might start thinking you actually mean it.”

His gaze dropped to your mouth for a long second before returning to your eyes. The tension between you crackled again, even stronger than it had been at the ball.

Sukuna didn’t move away. He waited, watching you closely, as if daring you to take it back… or push further.

The silence stretched, heavy and charged. His thumb was still resting against your lower lip, warm and rough, while his crimson eyes searched your face for any sign of deception. You could practically feel the suspicion rolling off him in waves.

Finally, he let out a slow breath, almost a scoff.

“…Fine,” he said, voice low and guarded. “If that’s what you want.”

He stepped back slightly, but his hand stayed on your waist, fingers still gripping you with quiet possessiveness. His expression remained cold, cautious, like he was waiting for the other shoe to drop.

“Don’t expect this to mean anything,” he added, tone flat. “I’m still not convinced you’ve changed. But if you’re so determined to play the part of a real wife… then come.”

He turned and started walking down the corridor toward his private wing, keeping his hand on the small of your back to guide you along with him. The touch was firm — not gentle, but not forceful either. It felt like both an invitation and a test.

The halls were quiet at this hour, lit only by flickering torches. Every step echoed softly. Sukuna didn’t speak again until you reached the heavy wooden doors to his chambers. He pushed them open without hesitation and stepped inside, holding the door for you.

His rooms were large and unmistakably his — dark wood furniture, a massive bed with black silk sheets, a low fire burning in the hearth, weapons and scrolls neatly arranged on shelves. It smelled faintly of smoke and leather.

Sukuna closed the door behind you with a heavy click. He leaned against it for a moment, arms crossed over his broad chest, watching you with that same calculating stare.

“You wanted this,” he said quietly, almost like he was reminding both of you. “So here we are.”

He pushed off the door and walked further into the room, loosening the ties on his formal tunic as he went. The movement was casual, but you could feel the tension still radiating from him.

“Get comfortable,” he told you, glancing back at you over his shoulder. His voice was low, almost seductive, but the suspicion never fully left his eyes.

He didn’t say anything else. He simply waited, watching to see what you would do now that you were truly alone with him in his space.

You stood there for a moment, suddenly very aware of how large his chambers felt and how small you felt inside them. The fire crackled softly in the hearth, casting warm light across the dark wood and black silk sheets. The air smelled like him — smoke, leather, and something faintly metallic.

You swallowed and moved toward the side of the room where a large wardrobe stood. One of the maids had already brought a few of your things here earlier, as if the servants had anticipated this. You picked out a simple black silk nightgown and hesitated.

Sukuna had turned away slightly, pulling off his formal tunic and tossing it over the back of a chair. The movement revealed the strong lines of his back and the black tattoos swirling across his skin. He didn’t look at you, but you could tell he was still aware of every move you made.

You changed quickly behind the privacy screen in the corner, the silk cool against your skin. When you stepped out, Sukuna was already sitting on the edge of the massive bed, wearing only loose black pants. His pink hair was untied now, falling messily around his face. He looked up when you approached.

For a long second he just stared.

Then he let out a slow breath and patted the space beside him.

“Come here,” he said, voice low.

You walked over and climbed onto the bed. The mattress dipped under your weight. Sukuna watched you the entire time, suspicion still clear in his crimson eyes even as he pulled the covers back for you.

You slipped under the sheets, lying on your back. The silk felt cool and smooth. Sukuna stayed sitting for another moment, then finally lay down beside you. The bed was large, but he took up so much space that you could feel the heat radiating from his body.

He turned onto his side, facing you. One arm rested above his head while the other lay between you, close enough that his fingers almost brushed your arm.

The silence was heavy.

“You’re really here,” he muttered, almost to himself. His gaze traced your face, still guarded. “In my bed.”

He reached out slowly and brushed a strand of hair away from your cheek. The touch was surprisingly gentle, but his eyes remained cold and watchful.

“Don’t make me regret this,” he said quietly. “If this is another game… I won’t be kind about it.”

Then he shifted closer. Not enough to touch fully, but close enough that you could feel his breath against your skin. He didn’t pull you into his arms. He simply laid there, watching you like he was waiting for you to prove something — or reveal your true intentions.

The fire crackled softly in the background. The weight of his presence beside you made it hard to relax, but you stayed there, heart beating steadily.

Sukuna’s voice was barely above a whisper when he spoke again.

“Sleep, wife. We’ll see how long this little performance of yours lasts.”

He didn’t close his eyes right away. He kept watching you in the dim firelight, guarded, suspicious… and just a little intrigued.

Morning light filtered softly through the heavy curtains, pale and hazy, casting long golden stripes across the dark wooden floor. You woke slowly, cocooned in warmth that felt both foreign and strangely comforting. Sukuna’s arm was draped heavily over your waist, his broad chest pressed against your back, one leg loosely tangled with yours beneath the black silk sheets. His breathing was deep and steady, the faint rise and fall of his chest brushing against you with every inhale.

For a long moment you didn’t move. This was the first time you’d ever woken up beside him — sharing the same bed, the same space, the same air. Your heart beat a little too fast as the reality settled in. The Duke of the North was holding you in his sleep, even if it was only out of habit or unconscious possession.

Sukuna stirred a few minutes later. His arm tightened around your waist for a brief second, pulling you closer on instinct, before his body went still. You felt the exact moment consciousness returned to him — the subtle shift in his breathing, the way his muscles tensed ever so slightly against your back.

He didn’t pull away immediately.

“You’re still here,” he said quietly, voice low and rough with sleep. There was a hint of genuine surprise beneath the words. “Figured you’d sneak back to your own room before I woke up.”

You turned your head slightly on the pillow to look at him. His crimson eyes were half-lidded, messy pink hair falling across his forehead. Up close like this, without the usual cold mask, he looked almost human — though the sharp suspicion in his gaze reminded you he was anything but.

“I told you I wanted this,” you replied softly.

Sukuna let out a slow breath, almost a huff. He propped himself up on one elbow, looking down at you properly. His hand stayed on your waist, thumb brushing slow, absentminded circles over the silk of your nightgown. The touch was light, but you could feel the weight of his attention — guarded, calculating, searching for any crack in your resolve.

He watched you for a long, heavy moment, suspicion still clear in his expression. The silence between you felt intimate and fragile at the same time. His fingers flexed once against your waist before relaxing again.

“Don’t get too used to this,” he said eventually, tone flat but not cruel. “One night doesn’t fix anything. One night doesn’t make me trust you.”

Then, almost like he couldn’t help himself, he added more quietly, “But… you can stay for breakfast if you want.”

Sukuna rolled away and got out of bed, stretching his powerful arms above his head. The morning light traced every line of muscle and the intricate black tattoos that covered his shoulders, chest, and back. He moved with the casual confidence of someone completely at ease in his own space, yet you could still feel the tension humming beneath his skin.

God, he’s even hotter in person… no wonder I was obsessed.

He grabbed a fresh tunic but didn’t put it on. Instead, he leaned against the wardrobe, watching you in his sheets with that dark, cautious gaze. The fire had burned low, leaving the room quiet and heavy with unspoken tension.

Sukuna tilted his head slightly. “Well?” he asked, voice still rough from sleep. “Are you going to lie there all morning?”

You didn’t make him wait long.

You slipped out of bed, the black silk nightgown clinging lightly to your skin as you moved. The morning air in the chamber felt cooler than the warmth of the sheets you’d just left. Sukuna watched you the entire time from where he leaned against the wardrobe, arms crossed over his broad chest, expression unreadable but intense.

“Breakfast will be brought here,” he said simply, voice still rough from sleep. “No need to go to the main hall today.”

A short while later, servants arrived with silver trays. They moved quickly and quietly, setting the table near the tall windows with practiced care — a pot of strong black tea, warm crusty bread, thick slices of roasted meat, fresh berries, and a small dish of honey. The scent of the food filled the room, warm and savory. They kept their eyes lowered, clearly unsettled by the sight of you in the Duke’s private chambers wearing only a nightgown and robe, but they left without a single word.

Sukuna sat down first. You took the seat across from him.

The morning light streamed in through the tall windows, casting a soft golden glow across the table and highlighting the sharp angles of his face. It traced the black tattoos visible at the open collar of his tunic and the faint scars on his hands as he picked up his knife. For several long minutes, the only sounds were the quiet clink of silverware and the distant crackle from the hearth.

Finally, Sukuna set his knife down with a quiet click and leaned back in his chair, crimson eyes locking onto you with that familiar guarded intensity.

“So,” he said, voice low and guarded, “what made you change?”

You looked up from your plate, heart skipping a beat. Just died and woke up in the body of the woman you’re supposed to kill. No big deal.

There was no point in holding back anymore. 

“I like you,” you said simply, meeting his gaze. “I’ve liked you for a long time.”

Sukuna stared at you for a long, heavy beat. Then he let out a short, bitter laugh that didn’t reach his eyes.

“Bullshit.”

The word landed blunt and cold. He leaned forward, elbows on the table, watching you with sharp suspicion.

“You expect me to believe that? After months of silence, after treating me like I was beneath you, after making sure everyone knew how much you despised this marriage… you suddenly like me?” His voice dripped with disbelief. “Try again.”

You didn’t look away. Your voice stayed quiet but steady.

“No, really,” you said. “I do. I like you. That’s why I’m trying so hard.”

Sukuna’s eyes narrowed. He studied your face like he was searching for the lie, the manipulation, the trick. The silence stretched between you, thick and tense. His fingers tapped once against the edge of the table before he leaned back again, the corner of his mouth curving into a slow, dangerous smirk.

“Okay, little liar,” he murmured, voice low and rough. “Then prove it to me.”

You blinked, heat rising to your cheeks.

“Prove it to you…?” you repeated softly, the words coming out a little breathless.

Sukuna’s smirk deepened, but his eyes stayed sharp and watchful. He leaned forward slightly, resting his forearms on the table, closing some of the distance between you.

“Yes,” he said, voice dropping lower, almost velvet-smooth. “Prove it. You say you like me. You say you want to fix this marriage. So show me.”

His gaze drifted slowly down to your mouth, then back up to your eyes. The air between you felt heavier now, warmer. He reached across the table and brushed his fingers lightly against the back of your hand, the touch deceptively gentle.

“You’re in my chambers. In my bed,” he continued, thumb tracing a slow line over your knuckles. “If you’re actually serious… then stop hiding behind pretty words and prove it.”

His touch lingered, possessive but controlled, sending a slow shiver up your arm. He didn’t pull away. Instead, he watched your reaction closely, crimson eyes dark with suspicion and something much hotter underneath.

“Prove it, wife,” he said again, voice low and seductive. “I’m right here. Show me how much you like me.”

The breakfast table suddenly felt far too small. The tension had shifted — still laced with his suspicion, but now crackling with slow, deliberate heat as he waited for you to make the next move.

Your pulse thundered under his thumb. You could feel the weight of his stare, the way his crimson eyes darkened as they traced your face, your lips, the line of your throat. He wasn’t touching you anywhere else, but it still felt like he had you pinned.

You swallowed, heat blooming across your cheeks and down your neck.

“…How?” you asked, voice quieter than you intended. “How do you want me to prove it?”

Sukuna’s smirk deepened, slow and dangerous. He leaned in a little closer across the table, his thumb still stroking lazy circles over your knuckles.

“That’s the fun part,” he murmured. “You figure it out. You’re the one claiming you like me. So show me what that looks like.”

His free hand moved, reaching across to tuck a loose strand of hair behind your ear. The gesture was almost gentle, but his fingers lingered at the side of your neck, tracing lightly down the column of your throat before pulling away.

“You can start by coming here,” he said, voice low and commanding. He pushed his chair back slightly and patted his thigh once. “Don’t make me ask twice.”

Your breath caught. Heart racing, you stood up slowly and rounded the table. The moment you were close enough, Sukuna’s hand caught your wrist and pulled you down onto his lap. He settled you sideways across his thighs, one arm wrapping securely around your waist while the other rested on your leg, fingers splayed possessively over your thigh.

Up close like this, you could feel the heat of his body, the solid strength of his chest against your side, the way his breath brushed your temple.

“Better,” he said, voice rough. His hand slid slowly up your thigh, stopping just below the hem of your nightgown. “Now… show me.”

He tilted his head, lips hovering near your jaw.

“Kiss me,” he ordered softly. “Like you mean it. Like you actually want your husband.”

His crimson eyes were locked on yours, still guarded, still waiting for the lie to slip through. But beneath the suspicion, there was clear hunger — dark and patient, daring you to close the distance.

Sukuna’s fingers flexed on your thigh, a silent reminder of his patience running thin.

“Well, wife?” he murmured, voice velvet-rough against your skin. “I’m waiting.”

You didn’t hesitate any longer.

Leaning in, you pressed your lips to his. The kiss started soft — tentative on your end, testing. Sukuna stayed still for half a second, as if surprised you’d actually done it.

Then he took control.

His hand slid to the back of your neck, pulling you harder against his mouth. The kiss deepened instantly, turning hungry and demanding. His tongue swept past your lips, claiming your mouth with a low growl that vibrated against you. He tasted like black tea and heat, and the way he kissed you was nothing short of possessive — like he was trying to erase every other man who had ever looked at you.

You gasped into his mouth. Sukuna used the opening to tilt your head and kiss you deeper, tongue stroking yours with slow, filthy intent. His other hand gripped your thigh tighter, fingers digging into the soft flesh as he pulled you more firmly onto his lap until you were straddling him.

“Better,” he rasped against your lips when he finally pulled back just enough to breathe. His crimson eyes were dark, pupils blown wide. “But not enough.”

He kissed you again, harder this time. One hand slipped under the hem of your nightgown, palm sliding up your bare thigh, pushing the silk higher and higher until his fingers brushed the edge of your underwear. He didn’t go further yet — just teased, stroking the sensitive skin there while his mouth moved to your jaw, then down to your neck.

“You say you like me,” he growled against your throat, teeth grazing your pulse point. “Then prove how much.”

He sucked on your skin, hard enough to leave a mark, and you couldn’t stop the soft moan that escaped you. Sukuna’s grip on your thigh tightened in response, and you felt him growing hard beneath you, the thick length pressing against your core through his pants.

Your hands moved on instinct, sliding up his chest, fingers curling into the fabric of his tunic. He made a low, approving sound and rocked his hips up once, grinding against you deliberately.

“Touch me,” he ordered, voice rough. “If you’re serious, then fucking touch me.”

You obeyed, sliding your hands under his tunic, palms running over the hard planes of his stomach and the tattoos that covered his skin. His muscles tensed under your touch. Sukuna rewarded you by biting down on your neck again, then soothing the spot with his tongue.

He pulled back just enough to look at you, breathing heavy, eyes burning.

“Keep going,” he said, voice dark and commanding. His hands gripping your ass firmly as he pulled you down harder against his growing erection. “Show me exactly how much you want your husband.”

His hips rolled up deliberately, grinding the thick ridge of his cock against your clit in slow, filthy circles. The friction was maddening, heat building fast between you.

You moaned into his mouth. The sound seemed to snap something in him.

He growled low in his throat and rocked you harder against him. “Fuck,” he rasped against your lips, breath hot. “You’re already so wet for me.”

One large hand slipped further under your nightgown, calloused palm dragging up your bare thigh until his fingers found the soaked fabric of your panties. He groaned at the feeling, pressing two thick fingers against your clothed slit and rubbing firmly, spreading your wetness.

“So fucking wet,” he muttered, voice dark and rough. “All this from just sitting on my lap?”

He pushed your panties aside with impatient fingers and dragged two thick digits slowly through your slick folds. The first direct touch made your hips jerk sharply. Pleasure shot through you like lightning — hot, electric, and overwhelming. You were already soaked, embarrassingly wet, and Sukuna could feel it.

He chuckled darkly against your throat, the low vibration sending shivers racing down your spine as he kissed and bit along your neck, marking you with teeth and tongue.

“You’re dripping down my fingers, wife,” he growled, voice rough and filthy. “This greedy little cunt is making such a mess already.”

He pushed one thick finger inside you slowly, stretching your tight walls. Your inner muscles clenched hard around the intrusion, hot and silky. The feeling of being filled by him — even just one finger — made your breath hitch. He added a second finger almost immediately, scissoring them lazily while his thumb found your swollen clit and rubbed tight, relentless circles.

The wet, obscene sounds of his fingers pumping into your soaked pussy filled the quiet morning room — lewd squelching noises that would have made you blush if you weren’t already trembling with pleasure. Your arousal coated his hand, dripping down his wrist and onto his lap as he worked you open with practiced, unhurried strokes.

You whimpered, hands fisting tightly in the front of his tunic. Sukuna’s free hand yanked the neckline of your nightgown down roughly, exposing your breasts to the cool air. He leaned in and sucked one sensitive nipple into his mouth, tongue flicking roughly over the peak before his teeth grazed it. The sharp sting mixed with pleasure made your back arch, pushing your chest closer to his hungry mouth.

“So fucking sensitive,” he murmured against your skin, voice muffled as he switched to the other nipple, sucking harder. “Look at you. Falling apart just from my fingers like a desperate little whore.”

He curled his fingers inside you, stroking that perfect spot with devastating accuracy while his thumb pressed firmer circles on your clit. Your hips rocked desperately against his hand, chasing every thrust, every stroke. The wet sounds grew louder, filthier, echoing obscenely in the quiet chamber.

Sukuna pulled back just enough to watch your face, his crimson eyes dark with lust and that ever-present edge of suspicion.

“Cum for me,” he ordered, voice low and rough. “Let me feel how much this supposed ‘liking me’ makes this tight little pussy squeeze around my fingers.”

His fingers curled harder, stroking that sensitive spot relentlessly while his thumb worked your clit faster. The pleasure coiled tighter and tighter in your core, burning hotter with every thrust, every filthy word.

It snapped.

You came hard with a broken moan, walls clenching violently around his thick fingers. Your thighs shook uncontrollably as slick gushed over his hand, soaking his palm and dripping down his wrist. Pleasure crashed through you in waves, leaving you gasping and trembling.

Sukuna groaned deeply at the feeling, still pumping his fingers slowly through your spasms, drawing out every last pulse until you were shaking and oversensitive, whimpering softly.

He finally pulled his fingers free, glistening with your release. Without breaking eye contact, he brought them to his mouth and licked them clean, tongue dragging slowly and deliberately over his skin, savoring your taste.

“Sweet,” he murmured, voice husky and dark. His eyes never left yours.

He lifted you effortlessly and stood, carrying you toward the massive bed. He laid you down on the black silk sheets, hovering over you with that same dark, hungry look.

“Take the nightgown off,” he commanded, already pulling his own tunic over his head, revealing the full expanse of his tattooed, muscled torso. “I want to see all of you.”

His hands moved to his pants, loosening them as he watched you, eyes burning with lust and that ever-present edge of suspicion.

“Prove how much you actually want me, wife.”

You sat up on the bed, heart hammering against your ribs. Under his burning gaze, you reached for the hem of your nightgown and pulled it up and over your head, letting the silk fall to the floor. The cool air of the chamber brushed over your bare skin, making your nipples tighten instantly.

Sukuna’s eyes raked slowly over your naked body — from your flushed face, down the curve of your breasts, your stomach, and the glistening wetness already coating your inner thighs. He let out a low, rough sound deep in his chest, almost a growl.

“Fuck… look at you,” he muttered, voice thick. “So small. So fucking pretty.”

He shoved his pants the rest of the way down his hips and kicked them aside. His cock sprang free, heavy and thick, the veined shaft curving slightly upward. It was meaty — obscenely so — the girth making your mouth go dry. The flushed head was already leaking, a bead of precum glistening at the tip. Even fully hard, it looked almost too big, too heavy, the weight of it making it hang thick and full between his powerful thighs.

You couldn’t help the soft, shaky breath that escaped you.

Sukuna noticed. His smirk was dark and satisfied as he crawled onto the bed, the mattress dipping deeply under his much larger frame. He settled between your spread thighs, his broad shoulders forcing your legs wider apart. The size difference hit you all over again — he was so much bigger than you, his body completely eclipsing yours as he hovered above you.

He gripped his thick cock in one large hand and dragged the heavy head through your soaked folds, coating himself in your wetness. The blunt, meaty tip nudged against your entrance, pressing just enough to tease the stretch.

“You’re tiny compared to me,” he rasped, voice low and rough. “Gonna feel every inch when I split you open.”

He pushed forward slowly.

The thick head of his cock breached you, stretching your entrance with a slow, burning pressure. You gasped sharply at the sheer girth — he was so thick that your walls had to part around him, fluttering and clenching as he sank deeper. The heavy, meaty weight of his cock filled you inch by inch, dragging against every sensitive ridge inside you until you were full, so full, your back arching off the bed with a broken moan.

Sukuna groaned deeply, the sound vibrating through his chest as he bottomed out, hips flush against yours. His balls rested heavy and warm against you.

“Shit,” he breathed against your neck, voice strained. “So fucking tight… this little pussy is sucking me in like it was made for me.”

He stayed buried deep for a moment, letting you adjust to the overwhelming stretch, the way his thick cock throbbed inside you, hot and heavy. Then he started moving — slow, deep rolls of his hips that dragged his meaty length along your walls with every thrust. The wet, obscene sound of him sliding in and out of your soaked cunt filled the room, slick and filthy.

You whimpered, nails digging into his broad shoulders. “Sukuna… you’re so big—”

He growled at your words, hips snapping harder, driving his thick cock deeper. The drag was exquisite, every vein and ridge rubbing against your most sensitive spots. His size made you feel impossibly full, stretched wide around his girth, the pressure bordering on too much but so, so good.

“Take it,” he rasped, voice dark and possessive. “Take every fucking inch like the good little wife you’re trying to be.”

He leaned down and captured your mouth in a messy, hungry kiss, tongue fucking your mouth in time with his deep thrusts. His heavy balls slapped against you with every powerful stroke, the wet sounds growing louder as your arousal dripped down his shaft and soaked the sheets beneath you.

You moaned into his mouth, legs wrapping tighter around his waist, heels digging into his back. The size difference made everything more intense — his broad chest crushing your breasts, his muscular thighs spreading you wide, his massive frame completely dominating yours as he fucked you into the mattress.

Sukuna pulled back just enough to look at you, breathing hard, eyes dark with lust and that lingering edge of suspicion.

“Tell me again,” he growled, hips grinding deep, the thick head of his cock pressing against that perfect spot inside you. “Tell me how much you like your husband’s cock while I’m ruining this tight little pussy.”

You could barely think through the overwhelming fullness. His cock was so thick it felt like he was splitting you open with every slow, deliberate thrust. The heavy drag of his veined shaft against your walls made your toes curl, pleasure bordering on too much.

“I like it,” you gasped, voice breaking on a moan as he rolled his hips again, grinding the fat head against your g-spot. “I like your cock so much— fuck, Sukuna, you’re so deep…”

A low, satisfied growl rumbled in his chest. He hooked one of your legs over his arm, spreading you wider, and drove into you harder. The new angle made his thick cock hit even deeper, the heavy weight of his balls slapping wetly against your ass with every powerful thrust. Your juices coated his shaft, dripping down to soak the sheets beneath you, the lewd squelching sounds echoing obscenely in the quiet room.

“So fucking tight,” he groaned, voice rough and strained. “This greedy little cunt is sucking me in like it doesn’t want to let go.”

He leaned down, capturing your mouth in a messy, dominating kiss. His tongue fucked into your mouth in time with his cock, deep and filthy, while his hips snapped forward harder. The sheer size difference made everything more intense — his broad, muscled body completely covering yours, his weight pressing you down into the mattress as he fucked you with long, punishing strokes.

You whimpered into his mouth, nails raking down his back, leaving red lines across his tattooed skin. Sukuna hissed at the sting and rewarded you by pounding into you even harder, the thick head of his cock bullying that sensitive spot inside you over and over.

“Again,” he demanded against your lips, breath hot and ragged. “Tell me who this pussy belongs to.”

“You,” you moaned, legs shaking as another wave of pleasure crashed through you. “It belongs to you— only you—”

“Good girl.”

He sat back on his heels, pulling your hips up with him so your lower back was off the bed. The new angle let him drive even deeper, his thick cock stretching you wide with every brutal thrust. His thumb found your swollen clit again, rubbing tight, firm circles while he fucked you senseless.

The wet slap of skin against skin mixed with your broken moans and his low grunts. Your breasts bounced with every powerful snap of his hips, nipples tight and aching. Sukuna’s gaze was locked between your legs, watching hungrily as his thick cock disappeared into your soaked pussy again and again, stretching you obscenely around his girth.

“Look at that,” he growled, voice dark. “Taking every inch like you were made for me. So fucking pretty when you’re stuffed full of my cock.”

The pleasure coiled tighter and tighter in your core, burning hotter with every deep thrust, every swipe of his thumb on your clit. Your thighs trembled violently in his grip.

“Sukuna— I’m gonna—!”

“Cum,” he ordered, hips slamming into you harder. “Cum on your husband’s cock like the desperate little wife you are.”

It hit you like a wave. You came hard with a broken cry, walls clenching violently around his thick length, pulsing and fluttering as slick gushed around him. Your whole body shook, back arching sharply as pleasure tore through you.

Sukuna groaned deeply at the feeling, hips stuttering. “Fuck— that’s it. Milk my cock.”

He fucked you through your orgasm, prolonging it until you were whimpering and oversensitive. Then, with a low, guttural groan, he buried himself to the hilt and came hard, thick ropes of hot cum flooding deep inside you. He kept grinding his hips in slow circles, pushing his release even deeper as he emptied himself completely.

“We’re not done,” he said quietly, a dangerous promise in his tone. “Not even close.”

Sukuna pulled out of you with a wet, filthy sound, your combined release dripping down your thighs. Before you could catch your breath, he flipped you onto your back and manhandled you like you weighed nothing. He sat on the edge of the bed, pulled you into his lap facing away from him, and hooked his powerful arms under your knees, folding you in a full nelson.

Your back pressed flush against his broad, tattooed chest. Your legs were spread obscenely wide, knees pushed up toward your shoulders by his strong arms. The position left you completely helpless — folded in half, pussy exposed and dripping, his thick cock sliding hot and heavy between your slick folds.

“Fuck, look at you,” he growled right against your ear, voice feral. “So small and folded up for me. Perfect little fucktoy.”

He thrust up hard, burying his massive cock back inside you in one brutal stroke. The new angle made him feel even thicker, even deeper. You cried out, the sound raw and broken as his meaty length stretched you wide open again, the fat head bullying against your cervix with every thrust.

Sukuna went feral.

He fucked you like an animal — hard, fast, and relentless. His hips snapped up with powerful force, slamming his thick cock into your soaked pussy over and over. The wet, obscene slap of skin against skin filled the room, mixed with the lewd squelching of your dripping cunt taking every inch. His heavy balls slapped against your ass with every brutal thrust, the impact jolting through your body.

You were cockdrunk almost immediately.

Your mind went hazy, eyes rolling back as pleasure overloaded your senses. All you could do was moan helplessly, body limp in his hold as he used you. His thick cock dragged against every sensitive spot inside you, the sheer girth stretching you so wide it bordered on pain, but the pleasure was so intense you couldn’t think straight.

“S-Sukuna— ahh— too deep—” you slurred, voice broken and whiny.

He only fucked you harder, arms locked tight under your knees, keeping you folded and helpless as he pounded into you. His chest was slick with sweat against your back, his hot breath panting against your ear.

“Take it,” he snarled, voice feral and animalistic. “Take every fucking inch. This is what you wanted, isn’t it? My cock ruining this tight little pussy.”

You could only moan incoherently, head lolling back against his shoulder. Drool slipped from the corner of your mouth as he fucked you senseless, his thick cock bullying your insides with every savage thrust. The wet sounds were filthy — your juices coating his shaft and dripping down his balls, soaking the sheets beneath you.

Sukuna suddenly pulled out, flipped you onto your stomach, and yanked your hips up so your ass was high in the air. He slammed back into you in one brutal thrust, fucking you in deep, punishing doggy style.

“Fuck— yes,” he groaned, voice wrecked. One large hand came down hard on your ass with a loud smack, the sting blooming hot across your skin. He did it again, harder, the sharp crack echoing as he pounded into you from behind.

Your face was pressed into the sheets, ass up, completely at his mercy as he railed you. His thick cock drove so deep you felt it in your stomach, the heavy drag of his veined shaft making your eyes roll back. He smacked your ass again, gripping the soft flesh hard as he used you.

“You’re mine,” he growled, hips snapping forward relentlessly. “This pussy is mine. Say it.”

You could barely speak, mind blank and cockdrunk, but you whimpered obediently between moans, “Yours… it’s yours—”

Sukuna snarled in satisfaction and fucked you even harder, the bed creaking violently under the force of his thrusts. His heavy balls slapped against your clit with every brutal stroke, pushing you closer and closer to the edge again.

He was relentless now — grunting low and animalistic, cursing under his breath as his hands gripped your hips hard enough to bruise. He claimed you with deep, punishing strokes, each one driving his thick cock so deep you felt it in your stomach.

“Fuck— this pussy is sucking me in so greedily,” he growled, voice wrecked and animalistic. One hand left your hip and came down hard on your ass again with a loud smack, the sharp sting blooming hot across your skin. He did it again, harder, gripping the soft, reddened flesh and spreading you wider as he railed you.

Your mind was completely melted. All you could do was moan and whimper into the sheets, drool slipping from the corner of your mouth as he pounded into you. His thick, meaty cock stretched you so wide it felt like he was reshaping you from the inside. Every deep, punishing thrust made the fat head kiss your cervix, sending sparks of overwhelming pleasure-pain shooting through your body.

“S-Sukuna— too much— ahh—!” you slurred, voice broken and whiny, barely coherent anymore.

He laughed darkly, low and breathless, and smacked your ass once more before gripping both cheeks and spreading you obscenely. He watched hungrily as his thick cock disappeared into your soaked, fluttering pussy again and again, your juices coating his shaft and dripping down his heavy balls.

“Look at this greedy little hole,” he rasped, hips snapping forward brutally. “Taking my fat cock so well. You’re dripping everywhere, wife. Making such a fucking mess on my sheets.”

He leaned over you, chest pressed to your back, one arm wrapping around your waist to hold you in place while the other braced beside your head. The new angle let him drive even deeper, his heavy cock bullying that perfect spot inside you with every savage thrust. The wet, filthy plap plap plap of his hips slamming into your ass filled the room, mixed with your broken moans and his guttural grunts.

You were shaking, thighs trembling violently, another orgasm building fast. Your mind was blank — nothing but the overwhelming stretch, the heat, the relentless drag of his thick veined cock inside you.

Sukuna’s breath was hot against your ear. “You’re mine,” he growled, teeth grazing your shoulder. “This tight little cunt is mine. Say it while you cum on my cock again.”

You could barely form words, but you whimpered obediently between moans, voice slurred and cockdrunk. “Yours— it’s yours— Sukuna— please—!”

He fucked you harder, hips pistoning relentlessly, the heavy slap of his balls against your clit pushing you over the edge. You came with a shattered cry, walls clamping down around his thick length like a vice, pulsing and fluttering as another intense orgasm ripped through you. Slick gushed around his cock, soaking his thighs and the sheets beneath you.

Sukuna groaned loudly, the sound raw and feral. “Good fucking girl—”

He didn’t stop. He fucked you through your orgasm with deep, stuttering thrusts, hips snapping erratically as he chased his own release. With a final, powerful drive, he buried himself to the hilt and came hard. Thick, hot ropes of cum flooded deep inside you, pulse after heavy pulse filling you until you felt impossibly full, the warmth spreading through your core. He kept grinding slowly, rolling his hips in lazy circles to push every drop deeper, making sure you took all of him.

You could feel it leaking out around his thick cock — warm, sticky, and messy — dripping down your thighs and soaking the sheets beneath you.

Sukuna stayed buried deep inside you for a long moment, his massive body pressing you firmly into the mattress. His chest heaved against your back, hot, ragged breaths fanning across the side of your neck. The scent of sweat, sex, and his skin filled the air with every shaky inhale. One of his hands stroked slowly up and down your side, almost possessively, while the other stayed gripping your hip, fingers digging in like he still wasn’t ready to let go.

“…Not bad,” he muttered, voice hoarse and low against your ear. “For a little liar.”

He finally pulled out slowly, inch by thick inch. A heavy trickle of his cum immediately leaked from your abused, fluttering pussy, warm and obscene as it ran down your inner thighs. Sukuna let out a low, satisfied hum at the sight before he rolled you onto your back and collapsed beside you.

Without a word, he pulled you against his chest, one strong arm wrapping around you possessively. His skin was hot and slightly damp with sweat, his heartbeat still racing steadily under your cheek as he held you close.

His fingers traced lazy patterns on your skin as he caught his breath.

But he didn’t let go.

a\n: honestly didn't know how to end this but hope you enjoyed! likes and reblogs appreciated!!

All rights reserved © 2026 seoyue. No part of my work may be copied, reposted, modified, translated, or claimed as your own on any platform.

[lilikoiyu]

gojo is addicted to filming you while fucking !

gojo satoru was addicted to filming you.

it had started innocently enough—or as innocent as anything ever was with him. one lazy sunday morning, when you were still half-asleep and riding him slow, he had grabbed his phone from the nightstand with that mischievous grin and whispered, “just one video, baby. for my eyes only. i wanna watch how pretty you look when you come on my cock.”

you had said yes.

now it had become a ritual.

every time he fucked you, the phone came out. sometimes he set it up on the tripod in the corner of the bedroom so it captured everything in a wide angle. sometimes he held it himself, filming close-ups of his thick cock stretching you open, the way your body moved with every thrust, the slick mess coating his shaft when he pulled out just to push back in deeper.

he loved the sounds most of all.

“listen to that,” he would groan, angling the camera down between your bodies so the microphone caught the wet, filthy squelch every time he bottomed out. “hear how sloppy your pussy gets for me? fuck, baby, you’re dripping down my balls.”

he always made sure to get your face too—the way your eyes rolled back, the way your mouth fell open when he hit that spot inside you, the broken moans and whimpers of his name that spilled out when you were close.

“say it louder,” he would demand, voice rough as he fucked you harder, his free hand gripping your thigh to spread you wider for the camera. “tell the camera who’s making you feel this good. who owns this tight little cunt.”

you always gave in. “you do, satoru—fuck—only you—”

he saved every single video.

they were stored in a heavily encrypted folder on his phone titled “private collection🤍,” with a little heart emoji he thought was subtle. there were dozens now. some were short clips of you sucking him off in the back of the car after a mission. some were long, hour-long tapes where he edged you for ages before finally letting you come. there was even one from the time he fucked you against the floor-to-ceiling window in his penthouse while the city lights glittered behind you.

he watched them when you were away.

when you were on a solo mission, or visiting family, or just busy with work that kept you late, he would lock himself in his bedroom, pull up the folder, and pick one at random. sometimes it was the one where you were riding him reverse cowgirl, your body moving as you took every inch. sometimes it was the one where he had you folded in half, legs over his shoulders, pounding you so deep the camera caught the bulge in your lower belly.

he stroked himself slow at first, matching the rhythm on the screen, groaning your name under his breath. “fuck, look at you… taking me so well even when i’m not there.”

his hand sped up as the video got filthier. he loved the parts where you begged—when you were crying and whimpering “please, satoru, fill me up, i need your cum.” he always came hard to those, thick ropes spilling over his fist while he watched himself on the screen.

after he finished, he didn’t delete anything. he just wiped his hand off and sent you a quick text:

toru: miss you. watched our video from last thursday. you looked so pretty crying on my cock. can’t wait to make a new one when you get home.

you always replied with something flustered and needy, and he grinned like an idiot, already planning the next tape.

sometimes he got bold.

he would send you short clips while you were at work—a ten-second snippet of him thrusting into you from behind, his hand fisting your hair, the sound of skin slapping skin loud and clear. the message always came with the same caption:

toru: thinking about you. hurry home so we can film the sequel.

he never pressured you to let him post them or share them. those videos were strictly for him—his private collection, his dirty little secret. he watched them when he was stressed after a long day, when he was horny and you weren’t around, when he just wanted to relive how perfect you felt wrapped around him.

and every time he filmed a new one, he made sure to whisper against your lips right before he started recording:

“smile for the camera, baby. gonna watch this one later when i’m all alone and missing this tight pussy.”

then he fucked you like he was trying to make sure the next video was even better than the last.

because gojo satoru didn’t just love fucking you.

he loved keeping every single moment of it forever.

so he could watch you fall apart for him again and again.

even when you weren’t there.

[kamiflix]

▶︎︎ Noble (starring . fire lord!zuko & cult leader!geto)

synopsis . In which the two leaders of two entirely different lifestyles have one other thing in common outside of their lordship—their addiction to you. content . afab!reader, atla x jjk au, porn with no plot, lots of hair pulling (duh), hints of obsession and possessiveness, eventual threesome & they kinda pass you back 'n forth, brothel worker!reader, missionary, marathon sex, zuko’s a lil awkward here ‘n there, fingering, oral sex, throat fucking, slight nipple play, praise, pet names, sexual use of fire bending, creampies, dirty talk (sugu's filthy like always), full nelson, zuko steams when he’s close/when he cums, manhandling, filth (cum eating), jealous innuendos, prone bone, etc.

word count . 8.7k (dunno how tht happened) || author's note: y’all know i had to. btw this is dedicated to tht one anon who said they’re tired of seeing me write foursomes & threesomes <3 banner art by rororogi mogera!

In a world where things like jujutsu sorcery and elemental benders exist simultaneously, one can only imagine how overwhelming life must be to live.

And yet, you’ve managed to find some sort of balance in the midst of it all as a humble brothel worker.

Well, not just any humble brothel worker but—the brothel worker, as titled by the many men and women of highest ranks in society who’ve had the pleasure of indulging in you for a night or two.

You had gathered many loyal clients over the years, people who'd come in and beg 'n plead for even a few minutes with you. By the time this palate of clients reached those of higher status, your rates naturally went up, and eventually you'd only be visited by those most worthy of you.

Which, is rather impressive for a mere whore.

You're unsure what it was about you that made you so special, but if you had to thank someone for your status in the society of prostitution, that someone would be Geto Suguru, who was the first to openly pick you as his favored escort.

After he came in to your brothel unmasked and open with who he was, many people of higher society began to follow suit until this trend eventually reached royal walls.

It was by then that you were sought out by only the best of the best. And while this was supposed to be a good thing for you, considering it meant much better pay and (thankfully) less harassment, you found yourself facing a new difficulty as your two highest paying clients began to butt heads and clash with their timing...

——

On one hand, you had well known cultist leader Geto Suguru who you'd wrapped around your pretty little finger from his first night with you.

You recall said first night like it were yesterday.

Dimmed lanterns littered the brothel's corners and ceilings, leaving arrays of shadows and silhouettes to splay out across the rich velvet-draped walls whilst the scent of sex 'n sin coated the air.

You were leaning against a scrupulously carved wooden bar, the silks of your robe slanting off your right shoulder—leaving room for a teasing curve of your breasts to spill out to the varying patrons winding about. It'd been a rather busy night for you, as you'd tended to at least three clients back to back prior to finding this short moment for yourself.

Most could hardly afford an entire night with you at this time, even though you weren't considered the best of the best just yet. This brothel brought in all sorts of lost souls, a diverse set individuals who's cash and coin could bring them whatever flesh they craved when their desires ran most rampant.

Your eyes had scanned the room time and time again in search of who to approach, as it was also rather rare that you'd have a second to do the approaching—most came to you. But, this night had been wildly different.

Your gaze plucked out the regulars and you grimaced as the prospect of having to approach one of those merchants who carried leering grins and uncomfortably grabby hands dawned on you. Although you'd a busy night thus far, you were quite hungry for cash.

All you wanted was one more customer before you'd call it a successful night.

You debated on approaching some soldiers who's hands you knew to itch for softness, deeply considering how their pockets tended to run rather deep.

When such powerful fascinations of magic existed, it was only natural that all sorts of people existed as well. There were benders of four different kinds, sorcerers who had the most complex of abilities, mixes of both who existed, and lastly—regular people who carried no special, otherworldly aptitudes whatsoever.

That last category is where you fall. But, you suppose being able to bend your back just right and give people a taste of something far sweeter than any source of supernatural abilities out there was something to be moderately proud of.

It was in this very brothel that you felt most powerful, and nothing nor anyone could take that away from you.

Especially not by the time Geto entered the establishment for the first time.

Staggering in at over six feet tall, cloaked in black from head to toe with half of his face hidden behind an ornate mask, he was certainly nothing to be played with when you first saw him.

You—and everyone else in a hundred mile radius—had heard many rumors and tales of the infamous Geto Suguru. How he slaughtered his own family, was actively wanted for doing so by members of Jujutsu Society, and had some sort of cult brewing about to spread ideals of slaughter in regards to any non-sorcerers.

But, given the mask he had on, you held no idea that the man snapping his eyes your way was him.

Though, looking back on it now, it should've been obvious. Only half of his face was concealed but most should be able to recognize that sharp jawline and those seductive eyes of amethyst hue from a mile away. Not to mention the long tresses of raven black that cascaded down his back, swishing with much elegance as he paced deeper into the brothel—half of it pulled up into quite the signature bun.

"You," He'd been standing in front of you much faster than you had time to prepare yourself for, his voice laced with this smooth purr that—again—anyone should've been able to recognize.

You remember the way you straightened up almost immediately, your gaze meeting his as the tension of his visual scrutiny fell down on you. Luckily for you, you were able to collect yourself just in time to offer a short nod of your head, "Of course."

You had to force steadiness in your voice just to maintain your usual confidence. No way were you about to let some masked stranger get you all nervous.

...Even if the masked stranger in question undressed you with his eyes in a way you swear you've never experienced before.

You ended up leading him up the creaky set of stairs to your left. It was apparent in how quiet he was along the way that he hadn't been a man of many words, at least not to people he didn't know—ergo, you.

Once upstairs, he followed you down the relatively quiet hall, the only source of sound coming from the soft click of a shutting door as you eventually brought him into a private room.

His eyes didn't stay on you long, too eager to take in the intimate space around him. He'd linger his gaze over the wide bed, scoff quietly at the cheap-looking sheets tossed over it, and shift in his standing as he contemplated deeply on all the decisions that led him here.

Then his attention found you again.

Whilst he had reminded dormant, you slowly turned around to face him and wasted little time in working to untie your velvety robes. The fabrics fell to pool at your feet, and for anyone who lived a life much different to this one—the way things played out may have come off as strange. But for you, having a client who spoke very little such as this one wasn't unusual in the slightest.

Hell, it was on nights like that where you preferred it most, honestly.

"Shall I uh..." Your voice wavered a moment but you quickly made up for it via gesturing your hand out to the man. Then you pacing closer to him, "Shall I help you?" You offered simply, your movement extending out into a reach as you went for his clothing.

A hand met your wrist and his head shook, "Not yet."

You'd known the gentleman for no longer than twenty minutes and yet only three words had come your way. How strange.

Unfortunately, you weren't given much time to ponder on his aloofness since you were distracted by the way his hand left you and went for his mask. He lifted it away and you gasped almost immediately at the reveal, stumbling back a bit to move your hands over your mouth.

In one respect, you were scared shitless. The man known for bringing harm to non-sorcerers was currently standing in front of you, a non-sorcerer. And in the other respect, it was hard to be entirely fearful when he had the face of an angel.

Most men prior to this instance weren't always the easiest on the eyes, and it was quite the rarity for you to be in a situation like this.

A few lengthy strands of hair framed the upper half of his now-revealed face and fuck if he wasn't the most beautiful man you'd ever laid your eyes on.

"You look scared," Geto pointed out bluntly, his gaze inert. He watched closely at the way the center of your throat moved with the gulp you took.

Cute.

You wanted to swipe your robes back up from the floor and run for your life, but what good would that really do you?

"Well, you're known for..." Your words failed you entirely but you tried your best to vocalize your scattered thoughts. "A-And I'm not a—"

"A sorcerer? I know," He fills in for you, closing the distance you'd tried to create between the two of you. "But, I don't need you to be a sorcerer to fuck you, do I?"

It was in that moment, and with those words, that you remembered what exactly your job was. Fearing that this man would harm you despite him literally coming to this establishment to feed into whatever lust lived inside him was mildly foolish on your part.

You eventually let your head nod understandingly, your gaze sinking to the floor in slight embarrassment. Meanwhile he'd found himself amused. He knew from the moment he laid eyes on you that you'd easily become his exception for the sorcerer exclusive world he wanted to eventually create.

Geto stepped forward and went to take your wrists into his hands again, tugging you towards him and guiding your palms to his torso. "You can undress me now," He instructed.

Your hands were shaking slightly as you did so, struggling to swallow that lingering fear all the way down. It wasn't until you'd managed his top off that he moved to grab at your jaw rather roughly, forcing your head up and your eyes on his.

You gasped again, "Lord Geto, I—"

"Suguru will suffice," He murmured before you could even finish, tipping his head to the side and leaning in to caress your lips with his own. "I am yours more than you are mine tonight, alright?"

It was obvious he was trying to soothe your nerves but it wasn't really working until his lips fell onto yours. Your eyes went wide when he kissed you, stuck in your own shock and unable to bring yourself back into the moment.

Then, by the time his tongue darted out to tap at the corners of your mouth seeking entry, you regained some of yourself and managed to part your lips for him. After which his tongue met with yours and it was as though a flip had been switched in your head.

Your body pushed forward into his without second thought and you caught him by surprise quickly enough for him to grunt into your mouth. The taste of Geto on your tongue was something you'd never forget—not by a long shot.

One of your hands flew up to the side of his face to trace his cheek as your other explored the expanse of his abs, fingertips dipping against every sharp curve. Geto's body shuddered under your suddenly initiative touch, his breath clinging to his lungs and refusing to leave him in a timely manner.

A single slip of tongues was all it took for you to feel like yourself again and that was enough to have Geto reeling. Your thumb swiped against his cheek in a fashion more tender than he'd ever experienced in his life and he was completely under your figurative spell until your other hand began to dip past his waistband.

After a few minutes of exchanging saliva and soft moans, he'd unconsciously pushed you back against the bed. You pulled away from him and moved to sink to your knees without him having to say anything—leaving him to miss the feel of your tits against his naked chest.

Geto's hand came to the top of your head carefully as you tugged at his dark slacks, letting them plunge to the floor so that his erect cock could spring free. The man swears he caught a little twinkle in your eye upon watching how his dick came slapping up against his abdomen. Perhaps you were a bit more passionate about your job than he'd realized.

His cock was unduly thick, tannish length standing tall and curved whilst it dripped excessively with precum from the plump tip. You were salivating before you'd even copped a proper feel.

Your eyes flicked upward and he peered down at you expectantly, cocking a brow as if to ask what was taking you so long. You never cared much for being rushed but something told you that his neediness would somehow make everything worth it soon enough.

Then your mouth met his tip and you licked slowly, savoring the new taste of him on your tongue. He groaned faintly before moving to thread his fingers into your hair for a better grip on your head, his hips instinctively rocking forward. Your lips stretched around his cock as you swallowed him in, drool spilling out from the sides and quick to make a mess of your face.

Geto wasn't hesitant in fucking your mouth, especially with how good you were at using it. Your tongue did these tricks against him that he'd never felt before and it had his balls aching for release within a matter of minutes.

Hell, it had him thinking maybe he should've visited a brothel sooner!

"Jus' like that," Came from his purring tongue, "Take every inch of me-, fuck—mhmm, stretch that throat out. That's perfect." He grunted, voice laced with a nasty cadence.

You'd gag slightly as he knocked against the back of your throat, but it was a feeling you'd grown quite used to over time so you've come to enjoy it more than anything. Geto didn't take much longer to use your mouth as if it were specifically shaped to accommodate the size of his fat cock.

When he felt himself growing close, he plucked you right off of him and let the slops of saliva web all in between his tip and your chin. Then he'd hauled you up and tossed you onto the bed, abandoning thoughts of his own pleasure just to come spread your legs and kneel himself between them.

It wasn't unusual for clients to eat you out per-se, but it was quite uncommon.

Surging forward with no preamble, Geto buried his face into your sappy folds, his tongue coming forward with a spongey greeting to soak in your arousal. In the midst of this, you caught the man smiling like he'd proved something to himself just from getting a taste of you. Whatever that something was is entirely unbeknownst to you but, it matters little in the long run.

"Suguru," You tested, letting his name fall from you for the first time and watching how he instantly ground his hips forward to rub his bare cock against the bedsheets.

His lips were glistening in the remnants of you as his head fwipped upwards, "Again, pretty. Say it like you mean it." Geto ordered.

You did exactly that whilst he dove right back in, his hand coming out of seemingly nowhere to add two fingers into you and stretch you open on par with the rotational laps of his tongue.

"Mmngh! Sugu-, shit.." You huffed breathlessly beneath him and the workings of his mouth.

It seemed as though the sudden nickname you spewed was enough to send him into this feral state of feasting, mouth widening against your pussy just to suck 'n kiss alllll over you like you deserved to be sucked 'n kissed on. Your fingers tangled into his hair somewhere along the way but it began to grip and tug as you felt your orgasm approaching.

The skin of your thighs caged his head as your voice grew loud enough to escape the otherwise sound-proof walls of the room.

Directly after your orgasm flooded both his tongue and his thick fingers, Geto had no plans on letting you recover from it.

That first night with him was quick in the best way imaginable.

Geto rose to position his achy cock at your entrance, letting the head smack! in between your puffy folds a couple times before he started pushing in. Your hands went out to grip at the surrounding sheets and you whined whilst he stretched you out.

He was the first client of yours to ever make you feel so immersed in the acts of sexual pleasure, but far from the last.

He waited for the walls of your cunt to adjust to his thick size before he worked a steady pace into you, soon fucking you in a way that's simply incomparable to what you were used to. Your body rocked and rocked against the bed with his every thrust, his hands moving from the sheets to your hips, then to your breasts just to squeeze your body like he felt you needed.

One moment he was groaning and grunting above you about how good you felt, and the next his hands were on the undersides of your thighs, forcing your body to bend how he wanted as his voice curved all into your ear.

"Tell me something," He husked heavily, his hair framing your body with the way it fell out all messily. "How many cocks do you actually enjoy taking, hm?"

You choked.

Sure, men had asked you questions like that before but... most weren't too concerned with the others that you'd been with.

Cunt clenching around him, "I-I... I don't know-, nngh!"

At that, Geto had lifted himself just enough to grab ahold of your face like he'd done earlier, staring your dead in the eyes whilst his hips came rocking down into you—cock fucking the air right out of your lungs. "Well, when you make faces like that... I can't help but feel like mine is the only correct answer, no?"

It was your first night with the man and yet, you knew for a fact you had him right were you wanted him. A few have gotten addicted to you in the past, sure. But their pockets never aligned with their desires.

Not like Geto's did.

He eventually emptied himself into you, and wound up leaving you with a tip large enough to prevent you from working at all if you wished it so.

Then he became a recurring customer. Actually, scratch that, Geto Suguru became the recurring customer (for a while, anyway).

If you were with someone, he'd have them quickly dismissed and pay three times whatever the person you were with had been charged plus some just to make it happen.

Not only that, but he also showed up unmasked after his first night with you. You're unsure why exactly he did that when all this did was bring about attention to you.

Words of your successfully seductive nature spread all across the lands because of him, reaching places you never could've imagined for yourself.

...Such as the Fire Nation.

Or, more specifically, the Fire Nation's palace.

——

With Geto highlighting your sexual talents, you got new clients of all sorts. Other well-renowned jujutsu sorcerers, the most talented of benders from varying nations, etc.

The madam of your brothel helped you to maintain appearances, slowly viewing you differently over time, and eventually realizing that you were becoming her most starred worker—keenly peeping the investment she'd have to put into you in order to keep this flow of high societal members coming.

Your older garments, albeit nothing wrong with them, were quickly replaced with new silks that were more intricate and softer—fitting for a woman of your stature now. Your room had been moved higher within the building, farther from the bumbling noise of the common floor, and closer to those who could afford the best discretion.

Even the way your coworkers spoke to you had shifted. Some interacted with you whilst carrying awe in their eyes, others moving with resentment.

But through all this, Geto kept coming back, continued to remain your most devoted and loyal client.

That is, until Fire Lord Zuko waltzed in one night.

You were tucked into the comforts of your room when he'd visited the brothel, deaf to the commotion occurring just beyond your door.

Whispers flooded the hallways just outside, along with shocked gasps, attemptive passing touches, and failed glances of seduction as he made his way towards your room. Then came one firm knock to your door, the sound loud enough to startle you a bit.

You abandoned whatever it was you were tending to and made haste in approaching the door. As you moved to open it, you were left star-stuck from the sight of regal fabrics alone. Before you even looked up to see who was under said fabrics, you felt your heart lurch in your chest.

Then you peeked upwards and gasped rather animatedly, the folded fan you had in your hand fluttering to the floor. "L-Lord Zuko," You stammered in shock.

It was instantaneous the way you let your head lower into a rightful bow after catching the slightest shift in his brow, to which his face had lightened up a little in surprise.

Then came the tenderness of his voice, "You... don't have to do that." Zuko breathed, moving to lightly take your hands into his own.

You lifted your chin back up shortly after, blinking all dumbfoundedly at the man, "But..." As your words trailed off, he was firm in holding both your gaze and your hands.

His skin was warm against yours, eyes gorgeous in their golden hue, and long black hair falling loose to frame some of his tall figure. It was clear that here—in this brothel with you—there was no veil of inherent royalty between you and him.

The burn scar that twisted his left eye and cheek remain bare for you to take all the way in. It was unreal to have the Fire Lord standing right in front of you like this. One could only dream of such a thing, truly.

Within the spark of a moment that dwindled between the both of you, he let himself unconsciously lean a little closer to you. Husking a soft-spoken, "I'm not the first of royal status to pay you a visit, am I?" He asked.

You cleared your throat, "No, no, of course not."

Then you let your hands depart from his and you took a step back, moving your arm out to gesture him into entering your bed chambers. Zuko seemed to be delighted by the way you regained your comfort thus far, his shoulders relaxing as he inched forward.

Just before his foot fully passed the doorway, he paused and cut his eye back over his shoulder. Everyone who he'd passed whilst making his way here had been watching that entire little interaction, but the moment Zuko looked back at them all, they'd flinched and scrammed to return to whatever mindless tasks they'd been busy with before.

With the hallway cleared from a mere glance—with the exception of one or two fire nation guards—he let out a short breath through his nose and then turned to enter your quarters, the ends of his fashionably red and gold attire fluttering behind his every step.

You shut the door behind him and pressed your forehead against it for a moment. Your heart was pounding with every lengthy second that dragged by.

Fire Lord Zuko is standing in your room.

Fire Lord Zuko is standing in your room.

Fire. Lord. Zuko. is standing. in your room.

How do you even-

"Miss..?" He calls out almost sweetly, unintentionally making you flinch out of your thoughts.

You gulp, swirling around to face him only to swirl yourself right into his chest.

When had he gotten so close?

Your hands fly up to steady yourself—lightly grabbing onto him—and you squeeze your eyes shut, "My apologies, my lord..." You mumble, "As you can see, your arrival has startled me greatly."

Something soft leaves his lungs as his hands carefully meet your arms, "Why's that?" Fuck, his voice was so warm.

Your eyes bat themself open before moving up to meet with his. "...Are you seriously asking me that?" You blurt out.

Zuko stares at you an awkward moment.

He obviously wasn't used to having anyone speak so casually to him, and while he somewhat expected it before coming into this, it still manages to catch him off guard.

Leading him to let out a harmless scoff, "Pardon me for my confusion, miss. I just thought you'd be used to nobles visiting you by now. I've heard the rumors, after all."

You stare right back at him before tilting your head cluelessly, "Rumors?"

Zuko’s eyes skim over every inch of your face, appreciating the lack of space between your body and his already. Then he smiles ever so slightly, "You don't even know what people speak of you, huh?"

Your head shakes.

"They say you're the best," He explains steadily, lifting a hand to whisk a single strand of hair away from your face, "That a single night with you is enough to heal a broken heart of any sorts."

"Does that imply that your heart is recently broken, my lord?" You tease.

His hand halts for a second. Then his grin deepens, "It's not. I'm uh... I'm only reiterating what I've heard of you."

Playfully rolling your eyes, "Well, those rumors of me are wildly dramatic."

His eyebrow raises as if to challenge your claims, “Are they?"

You stand your ground, "I do whatever is asked of me and I get paid, there's nothing more to it."

Zuko doesn’t even try to hide the way he doesn’t quite believe you. Something threading on smug flickers across his expression whilst his thumb maps out the side of your face, drawing itself down towards your mouth.

You get lost in his touch faster than you can even help yourself. Everything about Zuko is just warm—there’s hardly another way to put it. His voice is velvety and tender on your ears, never too much bass or aggressiveness in the words that leave him.

In fact, it’s the exact opposite.

Every syllable slides off his tongue with this crowned elegance that somehow doesn’t ever strike your eardrums as too entitled or belittling in any way. "And yet word of your reputation alone has led me to you." Zuko says, the tip of his thumb finally greeting your bottom lip.

The gloss resting there makes him mouth out the word pretty and you feel your breath hitching, as if his compliment weighed far more than any other you’d ever received.

"For reasons far beyond me,” You murmur in response as he thumbs your lips apart slowly.

Zuko’s hand gathers the rest of your chin into his hold to lift your head further up and he spreads your lips apart from one another fully as he whispers, "Your humbleness is honorable, sweetheart."

Something in your chest flips right then.

Sweetheart.

A nickname you’ve heard time ‘n time again. A nickname you should be used to hearing by now.

But when it comes from him…

The look in your eyes change as you push your mouth against the pad of his thumb, “I could show you some other honorable things, my lord.”

His brow furrows and you hear a breath escape him, having hitched somewhere in his throat. “That's what I'm here for, but I'm not sure honorable is the right… word...” Zuko trails off, quickly getting enamored in the way you move your mouth to take in his thumb.

He’s not entirely a stranger to seduction, but it didn’t take long for him to figure someone like you should be something much more than a mere brothel worker. If this was something you truly took passion in—surely becoming his concubine would be much more fitting.

And with your tongue rounding his thumb in a manner meant to imitate the way it later would his cock, Zuko knows he’ll be returning to this brothel many times before he’s even half way satisfied with indulging in you.

He soon plucks his thumb from your mouth and moves to grab ahold of your face, tipping his head opposite of yours, and then leaning in as if to kiss you.

Zuko slows himself just short of his lips colliding with yours and you nearly whine at the teasing gesture. The man lets your breaths mingle and swirl into one another, exchanging waves of intimacy prior to engaging in the real thing.

Then, just to work you right up, he smirks and utters, “You want it?” as if you weren’t already a melting mess of need in his palms. He didn't realize it then, but you could tell this whole thing was new to him in one way or another.

You nod almost stupidly though, “Please?”

Zuko’s lips slip down onto yours and both of you hum into the kiss almost immediately. He’s holding your face like you’re the most dearest thing to him and you’re reeling in the fact that you’re kissing the Fire Lord himself.

And then in a matter of minutes the both of you go from tentative kisses and gentle moans to the tugging of clothing and a fiery handling of one another.

Zuko very nearly shreds your robes to ash just to get his hands on your bare skin—his touches eager as he soon has your tits fondled perfectly within his palms while still working your mouth over with his own.

He’d kiss you until you were breathless and clinging to him for more, ignoring how your hands tried to dip down for his cock, and smoothly bringing his mouth down to your chest.

His lips cupped one of your nipples before you had time to react, sucking and tugging on the perky bud with much fervor. “Mmmgnh,” Zuko hummed against you whilst rolling his tongue around in pleasureful little circles.

The first night with him was nearly as fast as the first night with Geto had been. Nearly.

There were little differences between the two men when they were with you. Both seemed eager and happy to please you more than they did themselves.

Zuko spent an almost concerning amount of time slobbering against your tits before even thinking of pulling his dick out. And once he did free himself from the restraints of his regal clothing, you’d already been laid down on the mattress in the particular position he planned on taking you in.

You laid on your stomach—body decorated and smothered in all sorts of markings induced from Zuko’s incessant mouth—and he was soon positioning his thighs around your own with his cock swinging out just above your ass.

When Zuko was especially turned on, bits of steam would puff out from his nose. A cute fact of which you come to pick up on over time, of course.

Sometimes you’d feel said steam caress your back when he took you from behind as he was now. The balmy head of his long cock would prod at your weepy pussy lips before he’d ease himself in, and by then, he was already a mess.

You’d push your hips back against him and he’d nearly lose his balance above you, a short huff that sounds dangerously close to a whine slipping right out of his lungs.

“So beautiful…” He’d coo, noticing how you shudder under the heated touch of his fingertips as they traveled the curve in your spine. Then he’d flatten his hand somewhere in the center of it and force your arch to deepen as he humped his dick into your wetly ringing cunt.

Your eyes rolled to the back of your head instantly and drool danced out the side of your mouth along with a moan of his name, “F-Fuuck, Zuko.”

He adored the sound—felt himself growing wildly enamored by it with each time it dangled off of your tongue. The rumors about you were nothing compared to feeling you.

Your walls sucked him in to the hilt without him even having to move much, clenching around his cock in rhythmic motions that had his mind going blank for moments at a time. Zuko was thankful he’d had you in prone bone, otherwise you’d see just how red ‘n pink his cheeks had colored over just from fucking you.

Even so, he couldn’t control the sounds he let out. The way he’d grunt and then thrust as if to distract you from it, loving how you continued to gasp out directly after.

Up until you’d angled your head back to look at him, a gorgeously cockdrunk look dazzling over your glossy eyes. He’d never seen something so sinfully beautiful in his life.

Zuko’s hips were snapping down into you faster than he realized, his hand moving to your chin to force your head further back the moment you tried to look away from him. The nerve you had to give him a taste of such a perfect expression just to hide it from him seconds later.

How rude.

His body craned down and his face was mere centimeters from yours as his cockhead thrashed against the inner depths of your cunt. The two of you panted and moaned in sync, his jaw slacking from how good it felt to be inside you whilst fucking you into making that addictive expression.

It wasn’t until he was getting close that you felt his balls smack smack smacking! against your skin harder, and the faint smell of something burning coming from somewhere to your left.

There’d been incidents in the past—especially with fire benders—where silk sheets had been burnt within the brothel. You were no stranger to the scent, you knew exactly what it was without having to place your eyes on it.

Even so, your head ached to turn and locate the source of the fiery smell, but Zuko wasn’t having it. His veins trailing his cock throbbed and he groaned out all loudly as he kept your head in place with a steeling grip.

Huffing, “Shit-, i-ignore it.” as he continued on, despite the smell getting stronger.

You gasped and your body was conformed entirely to his hold on you, “But-, ah! You’ll burn something, my—“

“Say my name,” The Fire Lord demanded all of a sudden, his brow pressing inward as frustration built up across his face.

“Zuko,” You whined, “The sheets will—“

Again cutting you off, he tipped your head further up and swallowed up your words by kissing you. You struggled to kiss him back properly because of how mean his hips were coming down on you, but you tried your best.

When he finally pulled his mouth from yours, you saw how blissed-out his eyes had been. “Ignore the burning, focus on my cock. I know how to-, fuck.. how to control myself. No fires will be—god, you feel so good—c-caused… I promise.”

Even as he tried to reassure you, he was actively burning a hole into your favorite sheet set. Of course, these could be easily replaced by him—but it was the principle of it all, y’know?

His cock twitched inside you in sync with the flickering flames coming from his fingertips. You began to drool and he panted above you, letting his grunts and faint whines speak for his feels of pleasure instead of his tongue. The bedding was left singed due to his flames but you didn't mind it too much.

At least, considering how he most definitely pays you more than you ever could've imagined for yourself.

He ended up cumming somewhere on your back, with his dick going flaccid just between your ass cheeks shortly after. Your head fell down into the sheets and you found yourself smiling at the fact that the Fire Lord just fucked you.

You didn't mean to brag buuut... no one else could say that happened to them!

Those flames of his died out just after he calmed down and he soon fell to your side, his eyes going up to the ceiling to relish in what he'd just done.

Zuko had been stressed for weeks, months even, but that first night in the brothel with you was more than enough to motivate him for the next upcoming days.

Which is precisely why he kept coming back. Over and over and over and over again until he was just as recurring of a customer as Geto had been.

——

This routine of yours was manageable enough for a time. A long time, in fact.

Months went by before your time spent with Geto and Zuko separately ever conflicted with one another. But, of course, it was only a matter of time before they'd cross paths.

The beloved brothel of yours was alive 'n thriving with its usual throng up until a servant had come banging on your door all urgently, calling your name out with her voice shaking as if freightened.

Her voice quakes from outside your door, "Two arrivals, miss—L-Lord Zuko and.. and Lord Geto. They're both requesting y-"

"Send them in," You call back to her before her statement could even find its end.

"Together?" She squeaked.

You finally approached the door and move to swing it open, flashing a her a gorgeously perfected smile at the frightened lady, "Why, of course."

"...But miss, they're both demanding to see you separately." She warned.

"No matter," Your hand moved to wave off her words, "If they want me as badly as they so claim, they'll come to me regardless of who else decides to do the same."

The servant bats her lashes at you a few times, by far deeming you as the craziest lady currently occupying this brothel. It's not that serving two clients at the same time was uncommon, but the fact that you wanted to take in your highest paying clients—two men of very high status—at the same time...?

You had guts. Perhaps the attention you'd been receiving lately had gone to your head? Suppose Lord Zuko set this entire place ablaze simply because he doesn't feel like sharing, what then—

"The longer you stand there staring at me, the more impatient my gentlemen grow," You remind the poor servant, snapping her out of her gaze.

She blinks repetitively before bowing sharply and then turning on her heels. Then you watch her rush down the hall to go fetch your desired men.

You disappeared back into your room shortly after and patiently waited for your door to fly back open, this time with your sought-after guests. It'd been quite some time since you'd participated in a threesome so, part of you was definitely thrilled at the prospect.

And luckily for you, Geto nor Zuko cared much—or at all, really—about who the other guest coming to see you was. They even came bursting into your room together, Zuko first and Geto following closely behind him.

It was obvious without a word that they'd had enough time on the walk towards your quarters to discuss what was to take place. You could tell by the way they came in all silent.

Before this, you'd known both men to become more talkative over time when they came to see you. Geto would preach to you about his beliefs that you definitely didn't care about and Zuko would spend his free time with you to vent about the weight of royal responsibilities resting on his shoulders.

You enjoyed these things from them, of course. But at the end of the day, you had a role to play. A job to do.

And tonight—despite the both of them entering your room together—was absolutely no different. It was here nor there what few words were exchanged between the time it took for them to get themselves undressed and for you to figure out how exactly they'd decided on sharing you tonight.

All you know is that one moment they were slowly taking off their garments as you watched patiently—awaiting some sort of direction—and the next, Zuko's mouth was on yours.

You wanted to ask them how they decided on who'd get to do what first, especially considering that they're two entirely different people but neither of them gave you a chance to do so.

Luckily enough, your question is answered somewhere after Zuko kisses you until you were a drooling mess between your thighs and Geto lapped away at said drooling mess.

The room was heavy-, nearly clouded with the mixed scent of arousal and sweat, sheets rumpled up from the rapidly escalating actions. First you were between making out with Zuko while Geto did the same with your cunt, and then you found yourself positioned between them.

It was in that same position—arched over like some slut as Geto moved himself behind you, hand gripping over your ass whilst his cock rubbed between your cheeks—that the two finally started releasing more than a moan or a grunt.

You'd argue that Geto started it off by saying, "Ah, look at you.." after gliding his cock neatly in between your sodden folds. He thrust forward once and watched how your ass came bouncing against his sharp pelvis. Then he huffed, "Such a sweet girl, always sucking me in like you missed me-, fuck. Did you miss me, gorgeous?"

Your jaw fell open to reply to him but you were crudely cut off by Zuko, who was busy nudging his cock in between your lips. When your eyes lifted up, you saw how he had a bulky arm over his face as if to his his expression from you. Even so, his other hand was busy working his shaft down the center of your tongue—as if whatever Geto was saying to you wasn't worthy of any sort of response.

You found it funny at first, but then they started to go back 'n forth.

Zuko was matching the pace Geto was quick to set in a matter of seconds, your body left to wobble back and forth between them.

"No one pleases me like you do," Zuko murmured, the sudden praise catching you by surprise. "Fuck-," his voice pitches and you caught how his eyes fluttered. Then his hips ever so carefully grind forward, his balmy tip pressing a smear of precum down your throat and leaving a slopped smooch at the back of it.

Your cheeks hollowed out then and Geto was left to feel the way your cunt suddenly soaked around his dick. His hands latched onto your hips and you shuddered in pleasure upon feeling his fingers ground into your skin as his snapped forward a little sharper.

It was like he was competing with Zuko—silently trying to figure out who could hit the best spots inside you and say the right things just to get you wetter. Unfortunately for the crowned man in front of you, Geto's sneakily slipping a hand under you to swish the pads of his fingers over your clit 'n bring you to a quick orgasm on his cock.

Boasting about it directly after as a crooked smile crafts itself into his face, "There's that sloppy mess I was lookin' for. Shit-, I love the way you feel when you cum on me like that."

"Mmgh-, mmpfh!" You're mumbling against Zuko's dick. What exactly you were trying to say is lost to both men, as they mutually assume you were simply moaning.

Zuko's attention is caught by the man behind you though. His eyes flicking over to him as his arm drops from his face and he frowns. Mumbling, "She only did that cause of me..."

"Oh yeah?" Geto looks up immediately, cocking his head left while keeping his girth dormant inside your gummy walls. He gives you some time to focus more on sucking Zuko off properly, and delightedly enjoys in the way your pussy smothers his cock in a thin shimmery layer of release. "And what exactly makes you think that, your highness?" He mocks.

The Fire Lord rolls his eyes, "Well, she's—ah, heyyy," he looks down at you, "At least give me a second to t-talk, won't you?"

You drunkenly peer up at him, his cock still bulging in between your swollen lips. A trickle of saliva drips down and falls in between the valley of his balls, leading Zuko to shiver as his hand grips onto your head tightly.

Doing his best to ignore you anyway, his attention moves to Geto again. "As I was trying to say... she likes-, hah, getting her throat fucked," He points out with an intentionally jerky thrust of his hips, leading your jaw to ache for a split second from how deep in your trachea he was reaching.

Geto pulls himself out of you, dick flitting up into the air with droplets of your arousal hanging from it in dewy little strings. He glances at the sinful display for a second and uses his hand to grab his cock and tap it against your ass a couple times.

You let out another hum or two against Zuko in reaction.

To which Geto chuckles, "Yeahhh, I don't think she came because of you at all. But, I'll let you think that."

Zuko all but pouts upon hearing that. It was almost as though his honor or something was being contested with those words. So, he releases a chuff and practically snatches his length out of your warm facial cavern. "I don't take kindly to being challenged," He claims, ignoring your mouth that's steadily pressing forward for more.

"Nobody's challenging you, Lord Zuko." Geto shot back before moving his hands up into a surrendering gesture and shutting his eyes calmly. "Alls I'm saying is that she came on my cock, not yours-," His eyes opened slowly and his arrogant expression fell, "Uh, what're you doing?"

"Proving you wrong," Zuko answered casually as if he weren't currently hauling you up into his arms and spreading you out into a particularly debauched full nelson. You feel the firmness of his muscles rubbing against all sorts of crevices and nooks of your skin, only making you soak more.

His arms had hooked under your knees, folding your body into that perfect hold—your arms pinned behind your back, and plush thighs spread out widely. Your pussy was on full display, poor folds puffy 'n wet, exposed to Geto's hungry gaze as he watched intently.

"Like..." Geto blinks once-, twice upon seeing you spread out so broadly. "Like that?"

Zuko tuts, "Obviously."

You're squirming, naturally, but neither of them pay any mind to that either. Not your first—nor last—time in this position but fuck if it hadn't been a whiiiiiile since you'd been held up in such a precarious position.

"Hah. Fine then," Geto moves to slouch back against the bed, "Fuck her good, Fire Lord. Show me how uh," He nearly forgets his wording just from watching the other man's cock nudge up into position, "...Royal seed marks its territory, yeah?"

"Tch." Oh, Zuko was so annoyed.

With the way they were acting now, you hardly understood how the hell they agreed to share you in the first place. There's no way—

Something warmer pressing against your entrance, warmer than anything you've felt before. It wasn't an uncomfortable temperature or anything but there was this certain heat to it that made you flinch deeper into Zuko's grasp on you.

Then came his voice at the shell of your ear, "Feel that?" he whispered, hands holding you steady.

You shuddered, "Y-Yeah. Why're you so-, ah!"

He was pushing up into you before you had much time to question him. Zuko didn't need questions, he just needed to be snug inside that slobbering pussy of yours, stuffing you full of himself, and soon having you cream around him far more than you did on Geto.

...And if it took making his cock feel significantly different than Geto's did inside you via slight manipulation to the heat surrounding it, then so be it! You'd never have a moment long enough to question it anyways.

Y'know, since you're much too busy getting fucked dumb on his cock shortly after its slotted inside you. You're promptly displayed in front of Geto—who couldn't stop himself from tugging at his dick to the sight even if he tried—and your body feels almost tingly as Zuko plunges in and out of you.

He so easily lifted you up 'n down his cock, your pussy struggling to keep up with the pace as it squelched and left slicks of creaming arousal alllll over him.

The position allowed Zuko to hit deeper than he ever had before—arguably even deeper than Geto had too. Filthy juices slicked his cock, drooling down to his heavy balls whilst he bounced you in his arms.

You found your orgasm more times than you can count in that position but it took Zuko a bit to get there himself since he'd put so much focus and energy into getting you to cum on him harder than you did on Geto.

And even after, by the time he's obscenely thrusting his own load into you, Geto still looks as though he's got something up his sleeve.

The cult leader had spilt into his hand already but that mattered little, as he had one more thing in mind in order to win this imaginary competition he'd set.

Zuko pulled out of you and lowered your used body down gently onto the bed right in front of Geto. A mix of your release and his seed leaked out from inside you. He moved a hand to the top of your head to pat you softly and wiped sweat from his brow before casting Geto a glance, "There. I win."

The sly man smirked, "Did you?"

"I did," Zuko confirms, shrugging. "There's nothing else you can do to—"

He is oh-so-unfortunately cut off by Geto moving forward to nestle in between your legs.

Zuko clears some shakiness out of his throat, "You... You're not about to do what I think you are... r-right?"

Geto merely winks at the man before pushing your jittery legs apart. Your back falls towards Zuko, who easily catches you, and is left to watch Geto angle downwards.

Your pussy glistened with the evidence of Zuko spilling into you, a milky white left to leak from your hole. "How pretty," was the last thing Geto murmured before he did the unimaginable and dove in.

His tongue came in flat and broad as it lapped at your folds, just nasty in the way he scooped up the mingled folds onto it.

He sucked appreciatively on your cunt but you were whimpering above him, tugging at his hair and then pushing at him because your head's all confused with pleasure and the back to back stimulation. Geto's tongue swished around your clit before he sucked on it, and you gasped.

Your hand flew somewhere before you were clutching onto both Zuko's arm and Geto's head as the man cleaned you.

Zuko transfixed on the sight for a long timed before you heard him say, "Doing something so filthy for her pleasure..." He managed a smile in between his words, "How honorable."

Geto plucked his mouth away then, just to respond. "What's with you and this honor thing, huh?"

"Just take the compliment," Zuko hummed.

"Give me a normal one and perhaps I will."

"That is a normal one."

You snort wearily, "Zuko, my dear, there is... hahhh, n-nothing normal about you and your fixation on things being honorable."

To which he puffs, "Whatever."

tags (1/2):

@yenayaps @linakqra @rzaau @devileyeswriting @drakexl0verr @sukubusss @rubyluna09 @tw0w0 @yulissacastillo11 @sud778

@mua-for-now @helloxkittylo @pearlydays @cuffiescariche @hiromihigurumaswife @rotheboattohell @kewpie-kewpie @buntimefoxy @the-izumimidoriya-obsidium @miss-f0rtun3

@gracewinston @momentomoribitch @mortallyshadysoul @ashsummer @theclosetismadeofglass @tojisrightfoot @iiakithegoat @ria-outofcontext @aldebrana @orangetabbys-world

@katsunoir @penelopeguin @m1hawkkk @sickof3lli @michiiposts @kvsqkiii @kashimeowr @hithere2323 @fave-anime-fics @greatestearthhbender

@gorouenjoyer @asuritam @dollescent-09 @becausewhyynott @obsessedandunwell @tojisgothiccbaby @syubseokie @your-civil-critter @volcanicwavecascade @heavenchana

[kamiflix]

▶︎︎ The Summoning (starring . ghost trueform!sukuna)

synopsis . In which you achieve your dream of meeting a ghost and fulfill your fantasy of fucking a monster as you meet Sukuna Ryomen—who just so happens to be a mix of both! content . afab!reader, monster fucking, double penetration, ghost au (?), choking, dumbification, porn with no plot, tw: spitting, degrading, rough sex, dirty talk, filth, slightly feral!reader—she’s unhinged & he hates that he likes it, manhandling (monster handling technically?), pet names, flirting via being mean, use of his stomach mouth, he’s kinda needy, squirting, age gap (hes like a thousand years old & reader makes fun of him for it), cum eating, masochism (on his end), brat taming, majorrrr size kink (he’s literally huge, pls), oral sex, breeding kink, anal, creampies, monster cock(s), faint implications of virgin!sukuna, etc.

word count . 9.1k | author’s note: this is technically a revised/edited repost from kamitv, but i want all my works on one account so if this looks familiar, that’s why! (not to mention ngh, trueform!kuna) banner art from "hachisuka's family kotoriboko"

Monsters fuck harder than humans.

This is fact, not opinion—despite what those many reddit threads have tried to tell you prior to today.

You've been down the looong rabbit hole of attempting to summon or find a real monster of sorts, and up until today, you never thought you'd have your factual statement proven.

But when you run into a particularly ghastly creature who just so happens to be a monster with two cocks that haven't been touched in centuries, you finally find yourself proving all those stupid online forums online wrong.

——

To backtrack, you do this annually.

No, not the whole monster fucking thing but, exploring abandoned and presumably haunted locations in search of one. This year was no different.

Today’s find is quite the eye-catcher. Hidden deep past a forest you’ve searched up and down prior to this discovery sat an old, rumored-to-be haunted manor.

In terms of your monster hunting, you found that the best results came about in the creepiest of places. Which is why there's a sense of longing for the rumors of your currently desired location to be true. After all, even though you've been hunting ghosts 'n monsters for years, you've still yet to ever quite meet one.

Many laugh at your little hobby, throwing names at you and calling you delusional for thinking you'll ever find either of the two. But you digress, one of your friends told you stories about how she'd summoned a ghost before and now you're fully convinced that you'll be able to find one yourself.

You didn't want to take the same (lazy) route as her and summon any sort of creature or spirit, you much perfered to return to her with a unique story of your own about how one came to you. Pun intended.

That, and you'd also like to go back to all those threads online and rant about how utterly wrong they are. Within the community of people who believe in ghost, monsters, and other things of that nature, there are those who then spread lies about how they probably can't or don't know how to have sex.

The first time you read some bullshit about that, you felt offended as if you were a monster or ghost yourself reading it. You knew these non-human beings had the capability to fuck better than the living, you just couldn't quite prove it yet.

Which brings you back to now, as you approach the massive solitary manor with a little glimmer of hope in your eyes, finding yourself in awe of how hulking and crooked the building is—as if it had been sulking from the lack of life for the past century or so.

Were there a few caution tapes and signs that explicitly said ‘Do Not Enter’ just a tree line back from where you were now? Yes. Did you completely disregard those warnings and continue with your exploration like always? Of course!

You pace down the long dirt path that leads up to the wrought iron gate that’s all rusted with the unfortunate hues of being forgotten. Everything about the scenery was perfect. The way the sky colored itself a fall-seasoned gray that’s washed-out and teasing on rain, only for water to never leave those shroudy clouds above, brought peace to your heart.

A strong inhale of the dampened earth around you that smelt of buried mysteries and wonder flows through your senses and brings a smile to your face. There were frosty breezes slipping past the thick fabrics of your sweater and making you shudder under its chill. Perfect.

You had a few items with you in a small bag that dangled off of your shoulder, within it a camera, flashlight, your phone—that surely lacked service this far out—and a granola bar that you found stashed away in your pantry at home. One of which you’re rather questionable of but, you needed the food just in case your monster or ghost decided not to show 'n give you something else to munch on…

As you push through those rusty old gates, which cry out loud groans of protest at the sudden movement, your eyes only get wider. There it was, the manor sitting itself on a slope, outer walls all wrapped in dried greenery where ivy had given up its decorative glow and chose a more gloomy appearance, and three stories of promise that silently begged for your impending exploration.

The gorgeous masterpiece of decay that stood before your very eyes screamed horror and haunting under the darkening sky above. Those washed-out clouds were steadily growing heavier with grey and yet it only excited you more. Perhaps the key to luring out a monster from such a spooky home was carrying some type of fear.

Maybe if you walked in scared, the being you were looking for would come running toward you, eager to frighten you more.

You shuffle through your bag for a moment and tug out your camera just to capture a couple pictures because you had a really good feeling about this place and wanted to have a few things to remember it by. 

As you soon skip up onto the broad porch, the wood immediately exhales dust from your weight meeting it, causing you to cough a couple times and wave a hand out to clear the airy dirt. 

Then your fingers trail over the doorknob for a moment before you give it an eager twist and push forward, earning a wail from its aged hinges as the door swings open slowly. You’re met with thick views of darkness and end up having to squint a little just to make out a few silhouettes. You quickly fish for your flashlight and flick it on, revealing the interior to your curious gaze.

Dust is in the air, as expected, and you don’t waste another second before walking in and letting the door creepily shut on its own behind you with a heavy thud. Not that you flinch or anything. Instead, the sound of that heavy slam makes you smile as you hope that’s a sign you're not alone.

The air smells of age and abandonment along with a hint of something oddly sweet, like decaying flowers or something of the sort. 

You let your flashlight sweep across the entry way and take in the warped wooden planks decorating the flooring, a few pieces missing entirely and leaving holes that revealed thick cobwebs. Then there’s a grand staircase that curves upward all gracefully that’s also covered in cobwebs and looking as if it were much more appealing in a time distant from now. Lastly is about half a chandelier hanging from above, holding onto the torn ceiling just barely, that your light glimmers over faintly as you shine it up.

Glancing back at the shut front door, you cock a brow, “Surely the lil’ door slam wasn’t the best you’ve got to offer me?” You ask out loud, as if you knew someone or something was around here listening to you. Though, this was also a bit of a habit of yours.

While you never got responses to any of your abandoned-house narrations, it was still a habit that helped to fill the silence that often felt as though it were alive and watching you.

When your words go unanswered through a lack of movement from anywhere, you shrug it off and then begin to make your way around the house. You start on the first floor and snap photos of every room you enter, the loud flash and shutter being the only thing to fill the deafening silence of the home as it echoes throughout the eerie hallways.

Eventually, you make your way up to the second floor—y’know, after almost falling through a couple of shambled stairs and becoming a pretty decoration for the basement floor—and explore the rooms up there. Nothing of note really happens (aside from the few items weirdly falling off walls and shelves after you walked past them) until you enter the master bedroom that looked as though someone of royalty could have lived there once upon a time.

Even though you’ve never been inside of a castle to really compare bedroom sizes accurately…

You still felt like the bedroom was rather massive for any normal person to have once been occupying! That, and it was the only room within the entire manor that wasn’t as worn and torn as everything else. Hell, there was a lot less dust on the furniture and nothing was broken inside. It was almost like someone was living–

The temperature in the room suddenly drops to a degree so low your next breath fogs out in front of your lips, leaving you to shiver as your eyes go darting about the bedroom. This wasn’t it, was it? The moment you'd meet a ghost or monster? Or a mix of both??

Despite the frosty air causing your body to shudder and your hands to hug your arms, you felt yourself growing excited already and couldn’t even try to fight off the grin, “Okay, temperature drop… does this mean you’re close and ready to stop teasing me with fallen items like before,” You say, hopefully to the presence in the room with you. It’d be really embarrassing if you were ignored again, “Or are you still too shy to show your fa–”

“You’re trespassing, human.” A low, irritated and gravelly voice drawls out into the air from just a few feet behind you.

The chill you feel running up your spine now is nothing like what you’d felt due to the cold moments ago. No, no, this chill is much more one of warmth and raw fervor. That voice was heavy with a raspy bass and years of being trapped in purgatory—which had you chewing on your lower lip already.

You take a second to collect yourself and get a hold on your emotions before slowly turning around and…

Well, no one’s there.

Batting your lashes a couple times, you quickly feel disappointment stirring up inside you. You were honestly looking forward to finding a monster more than you were a ghost, and if the latter happened to be invisible—that'd ruin the whole fun of it!

Pouting, your flashlight lowers around the empty air as you make an attempt at forcing the darkness into producing a visible ghost via disgruntled glares.

“Real’ cliche, y’know,” You hum. If you’d gotten a response the first time then surely that meant your talking into the void was a step into the right direction, at least. “What’s next, are you gonna make some lights flicker?” You challenge with a little scoff as your feet carefully carry you deeper into the room.

And lo and behold, a light off in the left corner of the room does spark on for just a moment before crackling off with a loud pop! as the glass surrounding it goes breaking and small bits fly over. The pieces clatter to the floor and the flinch it earns from you left you embarrassed knowing that’s yet another sign you’re not alone.

Hell, not only were you not alone but you were also being watched and listened to.

You quickly remind yourself that this is exactly what you wanted and then shake yourself out of the momentary freight. “Hah, funny…” You utter dryly, hoping your (seemingly) ghastly company isn’t finding this short game of cat and mouse humorous. “But uh, if you’re trying to scare me, it’s not gonna work. I literally came here to talk to you.”

Technically you came to speak to any supernatural being, and not specifically the one haunting your surroundings but, if you could make the damn thing feel special for a moment long enough to compel it into showing itself, then a little white lie was worth the try.

"Stop being such a wuss and just show yourself already," You request, turning your flashlight every which way in hopes of spotting something. "I don't bite."

"I'm sure you don't," That same voice comes bellowing out, this time from your right. When you glance over and redirect the lighting, there's finally something. Similar to the infamous Cheshire Cat, there is but a mouth revealed in the air all mystically, "But you do speak far too much. It's no wonder you are here alone."

Then the mouth poofs and your eyes frantically wander around the area to spot it again. You were getting so close to officially meeting a ghost and yet you're stuck with one that had the nerve to tease his revelation.

You continue to aim your flashlight around. "What's wrong with me being here alone? Are you implying I didn't have any friends to bring along with me or something??" You ask, "Cause if so, you'd be wrong."

If anyone else were watching this entire interaction, they'd be fully convinced you'd gone crazy seeing as you were literally speaking to thin air.

There's a thunder of chuckling from behind you and your entire back suddenly feels warm-, hot, even. Followed by which is a rather sensual brush of air against your neck and that voice comes rumbling out hard enough to vibrate throughout the space around you, "Would I?" He purrs huskily.

It's embarrassing how addictive the sound of his voice is becoming. Gulping, your head angles off to the side before you whirl around fully in hopes of laying your eyes on who you're speaking to. Nothing fills the space there but, you could feel his unmoving presence now—as if a pair of eyes were burning into your very soul.

"Yeah, you would," You claim, "I came here alone on my own accord."

"Mmh," A sound of understanding thrums directly in front of you as a half-shrouded shadow finally begins to emerge from the nothingness. It's slow the way his frame comes into your line of sight, the edges of his towering body flickering all ghost-like at its ends and resembling that of burning candle wisps. “Then you’ve yourself to blame for what’s to become of you, tresspasser.”

Something blossoms deep within the pit of your stomach, almost like butterflies. Unfortunately for the increasingly attractive ghost in front of you, you weren’t exactly the type to see the difference between a threat and flirting.

As you fight the urge to smile, his entire figure is revealed to you and… holy shit.

Standing at a staggering six-, no, over seven feet tall is a scowl-faced monster who looked like he wanted to kill you already. Two muscular arms cross over his beefy, inked chest, while another pair of arms have found themself on the purchase of his hips to rest upon. His hands carried dark black paint across the nails and if you expected the description of this beast to stop there, you were oh-so-poorly mistaken.

To your everloving surprise, he also has four eyes that are all fixated on your starstucken frame, taking in every inch of you just as you were him. Then you look down and catch the wide-spread smirk that adorns the fucking mouth on his stomach. The rapacious bastard had two of everything! Surely this was the greed level of which the Bible discussed as a sin so heavily.

Blinking a few times, you catch the way his attire is all ancient and yet regally sitting on his carved hips, robes hanging low whilst his upper half remains completely bare to your hungry gaze. When you finally bring yourself to look up at his face again, you catch the crimson red in his eyes that glared at you so vexingly it almost turned you on, and the matching markings decorating his unfairly even, yet ghastly skin.

Water wastes no time welling up in your mouth at the raw sight of him despite how absolutely haunting he was standing right in front of you. He was so broad that his shadow swallowed you up entirely and seemed to capture the entirety of that pathetic little flashlight in your hands.

You had to be the world's luckiest person. The longer you stood in his presence, the more you understood that this was some weird inhumane blend of a being. Not a mere ghost and certainly monstrous in every way, this was your greatest dream come true.

“Fuck, you’re hot,” You’re breathing out without second thought, eyes widened in awe. “Here I was expecting something like a floating bedsheet and yet you’re…” Your words die out on your tongue as he thumps closer and leans down to you.

Mockingly, his head weighs to the side and he studies your admiring gaze carefully. “You are not frightened," He points out obviously with a confused brow, “Why?”

“Am I supposed to be?” You ask in return. “I told you I came here looking to talk to a ghost.”

The pink-haired male standing broodily before you narrows all of his eyes at you and his gaze seems to grow impossibly sharper. “I am more than a mere ghost,” He seethes out all thickly in annoyance. God, he was really hot… “Mind your tongue when addressing me, human.”

You’re the one cocking a brow and folding your arms now—the gesture rather endearing to someone of his size in comparison to you—and your eyes go rolling with a level of sassiness he finds distasteful. “You look like a mere ghost to me,” You scoff before sizing him up and down, “Hell, or at least as old as one…”

“Excuse me?” He drones out whilst a vein begins to color his sharp jawline with hot irritation, “You will address me correctly, woman. I am Ryomen Sukuna, the King of Curs—“

“Yeah, yeah,” You cut off with a wave of your hand. The audacity of your demeanor threw him so off that he couldn’t quite figure out if he wanted to tear you limb from limb or fling you out of the house. “I’ve got what kinda monster you are down already—old, grouchy, and bitchless—just my type. No need for the extra introduction, Mr. King of whatever-the-fuck.”

Sukuna doesn’t think he’s ever found himself at a loss for words until this very moment. 

Genuinely, it was as though all his speech had fallen on deaf ears and he wasn’t used to that in the slightest. Now, it has been years since he’s last spoken to a human but surely your kind hasn’t deteriorated in intellect this much..? Could you not sense the danger that exuded off of his large stature? Were the double appendages and monster-appearance not enough to ward you off immediately?

If so, why the fuck not?

“You-,” The proper syllables in his mouth struggled to formulate for a moment. Then he replayed your statement in his head and his expression twitched. “Bitchless?” Sukuna repeats, confusion splaying out over his handsome face.

Snorting, you offer him a nod of your head, “Yeah, bitchless.” Then you gesture at his ancient attire, “You look like you haven’t seen pussy in decades.”

His lashes merely flutter over at the mouth you had on you and how ridiculously unfiltered it seemed to be. Well, that, and the way your lips curved and slid over one another as you spoke. Sukuna’s unsure why his many eyes zero in there as if he needed to watch your own voice slip out of you.

“And you’ve made this assumption based on..” His deep tone trails off for only a moment as he follows your gaze down to his clothes, “My attire? Traditional clothing leads you to believe I am… 'bitchless'?” Sukuna asks with a far too innocent curiosity weighing into his words. 

The term to describe his lack of women alone already sounded weird coming out of his mouth, all uncouth and unfamiliar to him.

“I mean, yeah.” You huff softly, “That and the way you’re talking-, are those four arms?” You interrupt yourself as if you’d been waiting to get that out ever since you set eyes on him. Then you’re adding on an eager, “Can I touch them?” whilst stepping forward.

Sukuna doesn’t move because the closing distance between the two of you meant nothing to him. “No, you may not-,” He’s answering without considering your words for even a second. Unfortunately for him, he’s been graced by the presence of the world’s most persisting woman; you—who slithers up close to him and reaches an arm out. To which he deadpans, “What are you doing.” as if demanding a direct response from you instead of questioning your actions.

You get close enough to him to feel the weird heat oozing off of his towering body, leaving you to wonder if all your presumptions about the supernatural had been wrong. You thought they were supposed to be cold. This one is everything but. 

Feeling his eyes still on you, “I just wanna get a closer look,” You clarify, “Pleeeease-“

“Do not whine unless provoked.” Sukuna scoffs, doing little to hinder his current loathing. “You will have your look, human, and then you will leave, yes?”

Ignoring his question entirely, you take the permission to study all four of his arms and then run with it. 

Your hands come up to feel along each one carefully, leaving you surprised by the fact that you can even do that considering you thought your touch would sink right through him. It was clear that he was far from dead, despite his haunting stature. He had some sort of ability to control the transparency of his body at will, so that let you know Sukuna specifically allowed his body to be solid just so you could feel on it.

“They’re so big,” You exclaim gently as your palms travel the expanses of his arms and earn a grunt from his throat.

Through this, you end up circling Sukuna and feeling just about every inch of his multiple appendages. The markings and muscles that carve out his body are almost enough to have you drooling (again).

When you make it to his front once more, your touch curves downward from his upper arms and trails over his collarbones before making a descent across his chest. He may be some sort of ghost-monster but he is very much alive in a certain sense. At least, alive enough for you to feel the rapid beating of his heart as your fingers splay over him, and alive enough for you to notice the jump in his low breathing once your fingertips graze his nipples.

Sukuna immediately catches the spark in your eyes when you realize his little flinch and he wastes no time in grabbing hold of your wrists. “Enough,” He warns, “You have felt and looked at me enough. Leave.”

Ignoring him again, your eyes simply dart down and then you hum, “So, four arms, four eyes, and a mouth on your stomach, huh? Does this mean you have two of everything?” You ask before looking up again.

A vein is settling into his forehead now. “Aside from legs, obviously, yes.” Sukuna answers in a tone low enough to rival a snarl.

Wrists still held captive by his larger hands, you nod. “Right, right…” You start out innocently. But—even though he’d only known you for a few minutes now—it was clear you were about to ask something else that’d only piss him off further. “Does that mean you have two assholes?”

“What?” Sukuna scoffs as he flings your wrists out of his grasp, causing you to stumble off to the side a little. Then he crosses his arms again, “No, I have two cocks.”

“Well that doesn’t make any sense but, whatever…” You deride with yet another roll of your eyes. Quickly adding a casual, “Are they big too?”

Any moment now his cursed body will allow him to kill you, surely.

He brings a hand up to pinch the slightly curved bridge of his nose and squeezes his eyes shut for a moment as he sighs, “Are you insulting me, human?”

“No, of course not!” You say quickly, waving your hands out. “I’m just curious, honestly!”

“Don’t you things have a saying about curiosity and how it kills,” Sukuna bores, gaze flicking over to you once more. When he notices the way you’re still sending him that glimmerful look, he tutts. “No,” He answers, “They are average size. Now leave.”

A brow of yours has never shot up faster, “Average sized for a behemoth like you or…” Your voice trails off as you slowly look down, quickly finding yourself staring rather openly at that downright slutty v-line of his and how veins decorate the center, trailing lower and then disappearing behind the hefty robe bundled up and resting at his hips. 

There was no way a being of his size had anything “average” in between his legs.

It’s not until you notice him stepping forward that all your senses grow rather alert again. Then comes his voice, completely weighted and thick with a sudden tension that has your spine stiffening, “If I show you, will you leave?”

“Probably not,” You reply jokingly to mask the heat that quickly sunk into your face at the sound of his bold words. 

And here you’d thought you’d be the only shameless one here…

Sukuna lets off a stiff groan when he hears your response as he continues his slow pacing toward you. To which you quickly backtrack, “Okay, okay, fine. Since you’re offering, I’ll leave after you show me.”

The distance between you two only grows smaller and you gulp profusely. The old floorboards beneath his feet didn’t creak nor grouse in the slightest under his bulky body and that served as more proof that he was very much a ghost, as if you needed any more by now.

“Good.” Sukuna’s tone draaags out of his body and you feel almost possessed as his next command leaves his slightly rose-toned lips, “Now sit.”

He ordered you so seamlessly that you almost felt like some kinda dog. “Pardon?” You chuckle nervously, “Y-You want me to sit on the floor?”

The monster can’t help the twitch of his lips as they curve upwards into a vicious smirk, “You want a proper look, don’t you?” He asks rhetorically. “Your best view of my cocks will be from down on your knees.” Sukuna claims.

You wanted to hate how stupidly wet his words got you just then but, how could you focus on that when you were too busy lowering yourself down onto your knees for him? The floor is cool against the fabric of your pants where your knees meet them and Sukuna waits until you are completely seated before he even starts moving. 

You barely even knew this creature and within only ten minutes of talking to him, he had you on your knees as he soon used his lower set of hands to pull at the stocky fabrics of his robes. Your eyes were as eager as ever, the look in them making something primal stir inside of the monster in front of you. It’d been so long since he’d laid with a woman and then you came along.

Dropped right at his doorstep too. How perfect.

Sukuna’s thick fingers pluck at his robes ever so slowly just so he could haul the tense moment out even longer. He knew you’d leave once he revealed himself to you so, part of him wanted to take this as gradually as possible. Your gaze never wavers and you’re catching every shuffle of the white fabric against his fingertips and the way they eventually drape off to the side just enough for you to see skin.

And the moment you do, you can’t help the gasp that jumps out of you. Lashes fluttering about, you’re left bewildered by the two large, fully erect cocks bobbing out from under those pesky robes that’d been peeled gracefully to the side like wet panties. Something pathetic threatens to exit you but, tugging your lower lip in between your teeth helps you keep that at bay.

“They’re hard…” You point out obviously whilst your head steadily begins to tip off to the side in awe. His upper cockhead is drooling profusely enough to challenge the saliva welling up inside your mouth right now, especially as your words hit the air.

Sukuna is still glaring down at you like he couldn’t be bothered with this tiresome situation, his top two arms neatly crossed all casually, and a knowing smirk returning to his expression again once he notices the way you’re looking at him. “They always are.” He explains to you.

When you look up again, you miss the way precum sprouts from the tip of his lower cock in reaction. “That must hurt, huh, big guy?” You whisper, knees shifting against the floor to grow closer.

Somewhere in the back of your mind, you were trying to remind yourself that you wanted to meet a monster. Not fuck one. 

Sukuna flashes a pouty scowl at you, amusement quickly wiped from his face as you carried the nerve to mock him. Something frustrated burned deep in the pit of his stomach the more he stared down at you.

Both of his dicks being paintfully hard just a few inches away from the same mouth he’d been gaping at before surely wasn’t helping his mind right now. And the fact that you still taunted him like he wasn’t engulfing the very space above you was downright infuriating.

Then you had the gall to look down at his erections again. Sukuna watches your lips quirk and he feels himself twitching. “Oh, you’re wet,” You purr teasingly as you lift your index towards his glistening tip.

His jaw tenses immensely and his brows meet, a heavy puff leaving his slightly flared nostrils, “I do not get, ‘wet’, woman.” He argues.

“But, your cocks are dripping,” You hum innocently with a point of your finger, “Look.” Then you unintentionally make contact with his tip, your skin slipping right over the dribbling mess currently leaking from the slit of his blushing head.

Sukuna’s lips part just barely and his voice is uncharacteristically softer, “That’s…”

He can’t find the words to finish that statement of his before you’re scooting all the way forward so that you’re properly in front of him, finger still rubbing faintly against his tip.

“I could help, if you want,” You offer.

His hands fidget slightly as he fights the overwhelming urge to take your head into his large palms and angle you as he pleases—a rush of desire to use your mouth overcoming his thoughts just that quickly. “I have not experienced pleasure from a human in centuries,” He tells you, “What makes you think you’re worthy of pleasing me?”

Blinking, “Perhaps the way you’re wetting up my finger right now?” You say with a chaste snort as you pluck said finger away to see the string of arousal hanging between his tip and your finger. Curiously, you quickly pop that finger into your mouth and suck on it with a little hum.

Sukuna’s brows shoot up in surprise after watching you do that, wondering what the hell got him to this point in his afterlife…

“Fine,” He grumps, finally using his lower set of hands to clasp your face into his palms. Your hands fall into your lap and he steps impossibly closer, feet coming up against the outer sides of your thighs as his cocks dangled over your face. Then Sukuna was pressing a fat thumb over your bottom lip and easing your mouth open, “Since you want to help me so badly, open up properly for me.”

A whine sinks right out of you—one of pure, satisfactory need. As your mouth broadens in width for what’s in front of you, you hardly get a moment to really process what you've gotten yourself into before a plump 'n searing head of wet precum is kissing the skin of your lip.

You keep your eyes up on Sukuna's silently degrading ones whilst your tongue lulls out of your mouth in slutty fashion and carefully swipes up his taste. Then your lips push forward once more and you're going from soft kitten licks to honeyed kisses.

To which Sukuna scoffs and shifts one of his hands to the top of your head, "If this is meant to get me off, you're doing a rather poor job." He comments meanly.

You obviously don't care for his words so, accepting his little challenge, you push your head forward and lift your hand up to his second cock. Your mouth quickly engulfs Sukuna's arguably longer set of inches as drool spills down into the palm you have smoothing over his thicker shaft below.

The quick motions have Sukuna hissing sharply in surprise. You're on your knees lathering his second cock using the mess of saliva and slick from the first as if you'd done this before, skillfully jerking at one length while you hungrily swallowed up the other.

He could hardly keep his many hands on your head, part of him wanting to let you do your thing since you'd seem to know what you were doing now.

His dick easily bulged around your wettened lips and with every deep suck on him. Your face was left brushing against his pelvis and meeting the pretty pink tuffs of hair that decorated his skin there. With each time your lips french kissed his base—tongue spelling your name out against the sensitive vein he had hiding on the underside of his curving cock—Sukuna found himself shuddering.

“Y-Yes, like that...” He stammered, trying to quickly make up for it with a low clearing of his throat and a hearty groan, “Fuuck, what a perfect throat for my cock.” He praises as he works a set of fingers through your hair and watches the way your head twists and bobs--squelches ringing all throughout the air. “I fit in this hole like it was made for me.”

Then the hand you have wrapped oh-so-perfctly around his second shaft is squeezing around him and jerking even faster before you pry your mouth off with a sloppy pop! and then dribble globs of spit all into your hand.

“Y'know, this one’s longer than the other,” You whisper softly as you let your kisser slip against the same dick you just had buried in your throat seconds ago. Then you divulge a drunken little snicker, “And this one-, mh," Your head angles down and smooches at his other erection, "This one’s thicker…”

His left pair of eyes begin to twitch due to your studying and slight analyzation of him, “Stop… mgh-, talking..." He huffs.

You pull away just enough to send him a smile, “Why? You were just throbbing all over my tongue a second ago.”

“Tch," Sukuna scoffs with that expected attitude of his, ears blushing with red he hopes you don't notice (you do). "Open your fucking mouth and make that tongue of yours worth something to me again.” He orders.

Before you get the chance to say anything else snarky or challenging, he's maneuvering your mouth right back onto him. The motion isn't too rough or anything, just enough to get you to shut the hell up before he embarrassingly left a mess of creamy white on that pretty face of yours earlier than he intended to...

“Theere we are. Much better," He utters as his body relaxes and your throat clamps cutely around his plump shaft, “Hahh, you’re a lot more likable as a cocksleeve.”

At that, he feels the way you whine against all his staggering inches and then practically rip yourself off with a slight cough just to huff, “Excuse m-mmpf–”

Unfortunately for you, you're only cut off again by Sukuna feeding his dick past those parted lips of yours—ones of which he truly didn't feel like hearing any more complaints from. Which is why he's fighting back a snicker and his tone comes out a bit more cooing, “No more of that. C’mon now, I thought you were learning,” He whirs out.

Groans that meshed with pretty grunts quickly gurgled out of him as his strong hips started thrusting forward. You lose your grip on him with your hand and to make up for the surprise, your hand merely slips further down to stimulate his weighty balls.

You gag around him almost immediately as you feel his rude cockhead pounding against the back of your throat with a viscous thwack—-having coaxed you into deepthroating him now.

The smile that draws out against his lips is full of pure sin, “Mmgh, look at you—gagging all around me," Sukuna husks out, hand tucking behind your head now to glide you into his thrusts. "Is it too big for you, brat?" He chuckles, tipping his head to the side and adoring the way you pout around him and send him a teary glare, "I thought this was what you wanted?”

You’re left unresponsive to him since you’re too busy taking the way he pulps up against your uvula to tug more gagging and slopped purls out of you. As a completely disheveled mess of a woman below him, you can’t help but feel way more debauched than you thought you would.

And this was really only the beginning.

Sukuna’s impolite with the way he fucks your throat; one cock pumping in and out of your mouth with little to no mercy as the slick of his second head bumps up under your slacked jaw and constantly thumps the center of your throat—serving to only make your trachea tighten around his first. 

And the sounds that were leaving you…

God, it was filthy. All sorts of choking and gurgling surged throughout the room and the mess of spit and liquid arousal that was gathering into a messy little puddle onto the floor in between the two of your legs was just disgusting. 

Sukuna doesn’t find himself losing his patience again until he notices how far apart your thighs have become and the way he can’t exactly see where your second hand has gone off to.

The right corner of his lips twitch and he tips his head over some more—still fucking your throat ‘til it was likely to be bruised—just to finally spot what exactly you were doing. Your hand had dived in between your legs all selfishly to touch what he’d mentally already claimed as his from the moment you’d opened your mouth for him.

An almost feral crack of a smile dawns onto his lust-struck features, “Awh, are you touching yourself?” Sukuna coos again, lower lip sticking out into a pout to mock the whimper you let out against his cock. “How cute. That poor pussy is down there aching for me, isn’t she?” He asks rhetorically before finally using the grip on your hair to pull you off of him. As you pant heavily in an honest attempt of catching your breath, his voice dips impossibly lower, “Do you want me to fuck you?”

Despite the dizziness whirling around your mind right now and the way you felt as though you could hardly see through the tears that’d welled up in your eyes from his mean use of your throat, you still manage a nod and a weak hum, “Mhm..”

He scoffs, “You should know I hate mumbling by now. Speak, woman. You had so much to say earlier, don’t stop now just because I’ve given your throat a little fucking.”

He says as if you couldn’t feel the soreness creeping up on you already…

Obediently, you swallow a gulp down carefully and then nod, “Yes, Sukuna.” Your voice is hoarse, as he fully expected and wanted it to be.

But to annoy you even further and test just how far this obedience of yours would go, Sukuna brings a finger to your jaw and tips your head further up, “Yes what? What exactly do you want? Tell me.”

“I want you to fuck me,” You request softly before leaning into his touch more. His hand opens for you and your cheek mashes into his large palm—a gesture of which is far more intimate than he cares for it to be but, he lets it carry out for a moment.

“Mmh,” Sukuna grumbles, “I’ve missed your kind dearly.” Then he takes his hand away from you and nods over to the bed a few feet away from you both, “Get on the bed and strip.”

——

Spoiler alert, the bed breaks.

Now, you don’t know if that’s because you ended up fucking a ghost who also happened to be a literal monster or if that’s because the damn bed was probably older than you were. 

While Sukuna was very rough with your throat, he’s a bit softer with your cunt. You suspect that’s because he hadn’t had pussy in so long, which made him almost like a virgin of sorts.

Though, he did not fuck like one.

“Look at youu, so wet and pretty for my cock,” His words feel as though they were cascading down onto your entire spread frame with how contrastingly gentle they were. 

Currently, his pretty reddened tip was busy driving up and down the expanse of your puffy folds, gathering your syrupy slick all over his skin and letting it smear into the wetness that’d decorated his length from previously.

Sukuna doesn’t miss a single twitch in your body and his multiple pupils dilate as he watches your cunt slobber and twitch around his length before he’d even pushed it in yet, “Do you like that? Yeah?” You merely replied with a half nod of your head considering the way you were losing your mind right now. 

It was a constant and tortuous tease of his monstrous cock sinking up and down your sleeky slit, so heavy and profound with the way he’d occasionally rub aloft against your clit. 

When he finally, finally started to push into you, your back was quickly arching up from the creaking bed and your eyes had crossed from the sheer stretch before rolling delicately back. 

Sukuna glanced down to gape at your clammy thighs clung carefully in two of his palms as he kept them apart. Then, it's rather whorish the way he spits into the pad of his other thumb, pushes the erection he doesn't have inside you to the left for room, and then swipes that thumb of his down to glissade around your clit.

The motion serves to make his entry a tad bit easier for you but it doesn't hinder the number of times whimpers of his name float past your lips. A set of your fingers wrap around one of his wrists just to hold on whilst his plumping head pushes past your tight ring of resistance.

“O-Ohhmygod,” You whine ever so sweetly, unintentionally causing his shaft to bulge deeper into you with an eager-to-please thrust of his hips.

Sukuna’s groans are probably the most hauntingly sexy thing you’ve ever heard in your life. The sound takes up the entire bedroom and has your cunt gushing around him and then pulling his cock all the way into the hilt. 

You’re clinging on his wrist as you gasp from the streeetch he was bullying you with. And he wasn’t even trying to be rough with you (yet), it was just natural. Someone of his size was bound to come with a bit of pain. Luckily for you, getting your throat fucked prior to this had you soaked beyond belief.

Well, that and the fact that you’d been turned on ever since he sent his glares your way.

Right now though? That glare has been replaced with dainty pleasure that’s washed his grumped face—leaving his eyebrows tensed upwards, mouth salivating heavily, and eyes practically forming small hearts in them.

Something in his brain is sputtering. You were so unfairly warm around him that he felt as though he’d finally made it to heaven for a moment; right here, inside you.

After he’s got one cock completely flush within your weeping pussy and has given you a moment long enough to adjust to his size, his hips begin to pry back—just barely. He could only pull his length out a few inches before stuffing himself right back in with a raw, anxious grunt tumbling out of him.

Now that, he hated. He absolutely despised how addictively good you felt. So much so that it takes over his body and before he even realizes what he’s doing, he’s got you folded up into a mating press. Now his hips were relentless against yours, the clapping of skin bouncing about the room as he sang out groans of how perfect you were.

You were under him struggling to breathe with the inability to move your body—your arms pinned over your head by two of his hands, his others on your legs. It’s not until his cockhead sloppily slips out of your cunt with a gushy squelch and then accidentally presses against that second hole, catching against your rim and earring a whine of surprise from you.

Sukuna’s body halts at the sound and he would’ve stopped entirely if not for the heightened, “Fuck, yes,” that ghosts out of you. Then his eyes snap up to your face and he waits until you give him this look that almost has him blowing his load. “Don’t stop,” You snicker lightly, eyes glinting with want, “I need both of them.” You demand.

Again, the monster’s brain all but malfunctions. His hips are moving at the same time his lips are to respond with a straining simper of, “Filthy girl…” You feel his slathered mushroom tip begin to press forward once more, this time to ease carefully into your ass. There’s another span of slowness as you wince upon entry, though, it’s not a wince of unwelcoming. “You’ve already begun to soak up one of my cocks and now you’re begging for the second?” He teases.

The fluids from your cunt easily served as lube for him to glide in almost smoothly after a few minutes of adjustment. And his second, upper cock doesn’t take much longer to swell back in between your puffy folds.  

Sukuna couldn’t even try to stop himself from cumming the moment he had both of his dicks inside you. It was rather immediate, the cluttered spurts of globby cum into both of your tight caverns of warmth and wetness. His groan is bellowing and almost apologetic as he does so, hips quickly snapping forward in hopes of distracting you from the way he’d manage to cum so early.

…Even though you’d long since made multiple messes around him by now.

Incoherent moans choke out of you now, eyes crossed into dizziness from being filled by not one but two veiny cocks. “S’kunaa,” You’d cry out in a blabbering slur, face a mess of drool and tears as your gaze remained lust-glossed. “I f-feel s’fuckin’ full,” You grumble, arms twitching to escape the weight his own kept on them.

He hadn’t even started moving yet and both of you were completely drunk on one another. Sukuna felt like he couldn’t think and you definitely couldn’t breathe coherently. 

Huffing, “Look at you, all spread out and dumb on my cocks,” Sukuna has the never to murmur to you before leaning his heavy body down and caressing his slippery thumb downwards against your clit. Then he eaches your ear and your brain feels like mush as he whispers carefully, “Prettiest thing I’ve seen in centuries.”

“K-Keep talking about how-, hahh.. h-how old you are, m’close,” You snicker just barely as he turns his head and sticks his tongue out to lap the tears and saliva up from your face.

Then he’s talking against your skin whilst gently rocking his hips forward, just pressing deep against your slicking insides. “Oh, you think you’re so funny, huh?” He challenges.

To which you break out a smile, “Mhmm..”

It’s instinct the way his fingers narrow around your clit to pinch hard enough that a throb is induced from your body. The damn monster acted as though the entire weight of his body wasn’t already smothering you down into the bed, “Laugh now.” 

“Fuu-uck…” You gasp in reaction, “Mmgh! hnngh, Sukuna!”

“You’ll wear my name out if you keep moaning it like that,” He whispers playfully as he finally adjusts his weighty body to help you bring some oxygen back into your lungs. Not that this lasts long since the greedy tongue from his stomach mouth soon splays out against your lower abdomen and slathers its way down to your clit to lull over. Your walls instantly begin to cuddle the swelling shafts of his cocks in reaction.

Yet you still manage to scoff, “Would you r-rather me—fuck, that f-feels good—moan something else?”

“I would rather you shut the fuck up,” He counters before releasing your arms from his hold and then stuffing two fingers into your mouth. You muffle something bratty out against his digits but that only makes him smile, “Ahh, muuuch better. No more of those annoying words out of that drooling mouth of yours. So messy…”

From there on out, everything is just messy and no longer soft. In Sukuna’s mind, he gave you ample time to relish in what little he possesses of a “soft-side” but now it was time to get back on track.

Those angry hips of his waste no more time with meeting your skin with haphazard thrusts as the veins decorating his bulking dicks rub all drunkenly against your honeyed walls.

Quickly earning a groan from him, “Mmgh, I prefer you this way, human.” To which you begin to lap your tongue around his fingers and work your mouth against them skillfully. “Suck harder,” He demands.

You, ever the brat, then decide to clasp your teeth around his fingers and instead of wining in pain or even flinching, Sukuna’s eyes flash something crazed before he moans, “A-Ah… fuck, bite me again.” He pants hotly, feeling your jaw clamp again,  “Harder,” He scolds. Followed by which is a smile that’s paired with a very faint whine, “Fuuuck yes, just like that.. good girl.”

Then he’s snapping into your harder, silently letting you know you’ve done nothing more than fuel his desire and causing the bed beneath the two of you to creak and thrash against the wall. His cum spills past your lips and your puckered hole whilst his monstrous sizes fill you out, leaving a creamy ring of white around his bases.

The mess of it all drools down to wrap around his balls that’d been busy clashing against your skin just as much as his insistent hips were. Sukuna was a merciless fuck, something of which any human you’ve ever been with could never compare to.

“You’re enjoying this, aren’t you? Having two fat cocks stretch out your needy holes?” Sukuna drawls out before he hears a shatter of wood from somewhere. 

His eyes leave you for hardly even a second to see that the bed under you both seems to have broken. Nevertheless, there were more important things to tend to right now—such as a sudden splatter of something profusely soaked from below. 

Sukuna looks down faster than ever and his body shudders at the sight and feeling of you squirting on him, “And look at that pussy, my, my… what a slutty lil’ thing she is.”

“S-Sukuna-, hnngh! S’too m-much!” You’re sobbing out, feeling a hand of his come up to cradle your cheek and swat away those messy tears of yours. He’d just licked the last batch of cries away from your face and yet you had the gall to wet it all over again? How rude.

“Oh hush your crying, slut.” He scolds, leaning all the way up now and waiting until your stream comes to a stop, “This can’t possibly be your first time squirting.”

“It iss,” You whimper, eyes rolling back, and legs still quivering from it. “S’too fuckin’ m-much… nngh-,” Your last moan is a bit quieter considering your voice is rather lost to pleasure by this point.

“And yet you took it all,” Sukuna huffs with a roll of his eyes. Then he slides out of you, his thick seed splattering out against your sweaty skin and leaving a mess of obscenity behind. “All of my inches, deeper and deeper into the back of those weepy holes.” He hums, tone reverberating against his throat.

Your body is left convulsing for a long moment whilst you feel the weight in the bed shifting, your eyes sealed shut, and mouth agape to capture most of your lost breath back.

Sukuna’s touch had left you and you thought you both were done. Uh-fucking-fortunately for you, it’s not long before his hands are gabbing at your thighs and tugging your body down against the bed.

You gasp loudly as your eyes fly open and you look down to see him in between your legs, face way too close to your pulsing pussy. “Sukuna, w-wait… you’re not about to–”

“Relaax, silly human. I just want to clean you up,” He murmurs slyly, angling his head inward and bringing his lips to the mess of cum and remnants of your squirting. You take a second to relax again but when you do, his eyes are hungry on yours, “Perfect,” He sighs, watching you bring a hand down and then diving it into his pink hair. “Now watch me feast.”

And feast he does, licking up every drop of cum that’d been left all over your gorgeous skin. Sukuna may have absolutely ruined you but he’d never leave you like that. His tongue is kittenish against your inner thighs and around your abdomen, making sure to clean around your cunt and saving the best part for last.

When he finally gets there, he’s pussydrunk all over again. His fat tongue dives past your plush folds and then gives them a firm suck to tug his seed out of you, “Mmgh.. we taste… ah, delicious together.” He whispers into your pussy. “Haahh, my woman spoiled me so well, mmhmm.”

You’re flinching every now and then due to the prominent sense of overstimulation thrumming throughout your body but since his tongue isn’t as bullying as the rest of him had been…

Broken and soft, “Y-Your?” you ask with barely furrowed brows.

“Pwah, you heard me. My woman,” He spits out, thumbs coming up to pry your glossy lips apart and watch you throb, “Isn’t that right, beautiful?” He says to your cunt softly. You clench around nothing weakly and that brings a tender smile to his face, “Mh, such a helpful lil’ thing…”

...So much for simply summoning a ghost or meeting a monster.

Your slutty ass just had to go the extra mile and fuck both wrapped up in one sexy package, huh?

To answer that, yes.

perm sukuna tags (1/2):

@cupidstrace @iiakithegoat @hellodeeyanna @navyllll @grignardsreagent @kingofpiratesiguess @aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa444 @etsuniiru @starsryi @not-a-glad-gladiator

@audiblez @2kool4skoolll @bbfawns @elliescumtubeslut @daxphoriax @gorouenjoyer @oookore @whore4hobie @blubearxy @wonderfullymickey

@iaintblockinnobody @anothergojostan @kitassecretgf @iam-souless @nanamitiddiechomper @ohreallyfriend @kunababy @withersworld @lilacsforveins @suguphile

@megottheswaskikacooooke @kvsqkiii @yourlocalcatscammer @lucy-lulu @sukubusss @sweetieelilii @lisabelhyhn @bellesiy @serenadesvt @simp4idk

@haazelnuutloover @booboobear-12 @aryaelan @mattsukitty @riameriash @liasacountgothacked @arminseas2 @5seos @palanggaaa @beaniesayshi

[onlypinkslut-deactivated2026033]

geto fucks you raw while you hit your nic🫐

you’re face down ass up on suguru’s bed, back arched deep with your cheek pressed into the pillow. his long black hair hangs loose over his shoulders, some strands sticking to his sweaty skin and brushing your back every time he leans in. those big stretched gauges in his ears catch the low light as he moves, thick black plugs swaying slightly, and his dark eyes have that half-lidded smug look while he grips your hips tight. no rubber, just his thick bare cock sliding in raw, stretching your pussy open slow and deep until he’s buried to the hilt and his heavy balls press against you.

the wet squelch is loud right away. you don’t even wait a second your shaky hand grabs the raspberry raz from the sheets and you bring it straight to your lips, taking a long greedy pull while he’s still settling inside you. the sweet berry vapor floods your lungs right as he starts rolling his hips, slow heavy strokes that drag against every spot.

suguru lets out a low chuckle, voice smooth and mocking. “damn, already? i just slid in raw and you’re already chasing that buzz like my cock isn’t doing its job?”

you blow out the hazy cloud into the pillow and moan as he picks up the pace, long deep thrusts that make your pussy cream around him. every time you reach for another hit he feels it immediately your walls clamp down tight like you’re trying to pull him deeper. “there we go,” he murmurs, long black hair falling forward as he leans closer, gauges glinting. “pussy squeezes me so much harder the second that nicotine hits. you really need both to get wet like this?”

the room fills with the mixed smell of sex and sweet berries. your juices are dripping down your thighs already, the wet sounds getting filthier with every slap of his hips. he flips you onto your back without pulling out, folds your legs up high against your chest so you’re completely spread under him. now you can see his face clear those sharp dark eyes locked on yours, strands of long black hair sticking to his forehead, the stretched earrings prominent as he grinds in slow circles, cockhead bullying your cervix.

you immediately bring the vape back to your mouth again, inhaling deep while he watches. suguru shakes his head with that arrogant little smirk.

the nic buzz slams into you right as he angles his hips perfect, hitting that spot over and over until your thighs start shaking bad. you cum hard around him, moaning loud into the mouthpiece while you blow out another raspberry cloud, pussy creaming white and messy around his base. suguru groans low but keeps that same controlled rhythm, teasing the whole time.

“look at you cumming with that thing still glued to your lips,” he says calmly, almost fascinated. “you can’t even ride it out without sucking on your toy.”

he buries himself deep and finally lets go, flooding you with thick hot ropes of cum, pumping you so full it starts leaking out around his cock right away and dripping down your ass in warm sticky trails.

he doesn’t pull out. just stays buried, slowly rocking his hips to push every drop deeper, his long hair draping over your chest as he looks down at you with that smug satisfied expression. “still clutching it even after i just filled you up. you’re actually wild for this habit.”

he starts moving again, slower and filthier now that your pussy is sloppy with his load, the squelch even louder as cum and cream mix together with every thrust. you keep the raz glued to your lips between moans, taking shaky pulls while he watches with dark amused eyes, long hair swaying and gauges catching the light.

he leans in close to your ear, voice low and mean in the hottest way. “bet that shit tastes even better now that your pussy’s dripping my cum too.”

he keeps going like that for what feels like forever, switching you onto your side for the next load, still mocking you every time you hit the raz with fresh lines, still breeding you deep until you’re a shaking dripping mess and the only thing in the room is the sound of wet sex mixed with sweet raspberry vapor.