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｡ﾟ•┈꒰ა ♡ i like my men older - simon riley♡ ໒꒱┈• ｡ﾟ

you knew that your friends from school raised an eyebrow when you told them that you were dating a man almost double your age. you were in your twenties, while this 'simon' guy was close to fifty. you told them that he was an army man who had a gooey center for you.

your friends could see the upgrade in your laptop and the new knapsack with a logo that proclaimed it was expensive. the small chain around your neck with a 's' on it that you toyed with when they asked questions about him.

you looked happy, healthier even! you weren't eating minute meals and surviving off of black coffee. there was a little roundness to your cheeks now and you looked more alive. a glow to you that wasn't that while you trudged through your graduate program. so honestly, how could they complain?

if you had a glow to you, it was because you were often fucked out. most women your age through that dating an older man would mean having to go slow. be patient about technical difficulties regarding their cocks. that was what you expected from a man that old. especially one with aches and pains like simon. your poor si, he had been in the military his entire life. barely had the touch of a woman during that time! poor guy! of course you'll teach him all the ways a woman should please a man. the first time you ran your tongue on the underside of his cock he cam all over your head, and while you whined. it made you crazy hot. fucking simon was like fucking a live wire. he hadn't slowed down with age. he fucked like a stallion in breeding season. and he loved when he pulled his heavy cock into you. you once told him that he could be a cervix breaker. and he simply said, "well, if i break it... i can't breed it." which made you go slack jaw for a moment before he continued to rut up against you. you didn't expect a man of his age to have a breeding kink.

you practically begged your doctor to give you birth control, because he was not buying condoms. "don't fit in 'em, lovie." he said as he patted his clothed cock when you started dating. you knew that was impossible, condoms could fit a lot of things and while simon was fairly big. he could fit in a condom. but, no. when you tried to put them on yourself, he simply took it off, tossed it to the side and pinned you under his heavy weight. legs in the air as he rutted against you like a hungry animal.

he was so much bigger than you. wide shoulders, strong thighs and a bit of a gut to keep you folded under him. there was a masculine heft to him. he was strong, picking you up was easy to him even when you tried to tell him your weight. one time he gripped you by the waist with one arm and moved you out of the way. you kicked and squeaked as you were moved. but to simon it was easy as lifting heavy equipment. but that softness to some of his muscles really got you hot all over. it didn't help that part of your role as his girlfriend was to make sure that your man was fed. you cooked him meals and he over devoured in your sweet dessert. he loved you in an apron. all domestic and sweet for him. you were real wifey material. could easily be cooking meals for him and the kids in a few years. you can have a graduate degree and a few riley babies. "look good cookin' for me, darlin'. know how to make a proper meal for your man." you wouldn't admit but his words excited you.

simon can be a little... chauvinistic. it was just his age. while he respected female colleagues in the military and was beyond happy that you were getting your degree. he'd do things for you that you could clearly do on your own. like when you tried to fix the leaky tap in your flat. or when you try to carry all the groceries inside. yes, darling, you're a strong woman. but let him take over. take care of you. that was what a man did right? he'll cut the onions for you and try to fix your buggy wi-fi connection. he's pay for dinner every time and even get you dessert after. he'd wipe your face clear of the sweet treat you'd have. "don't ask her anything too difficult, johnny. she doesn't need to be thinkin' too hard." he once said with his hands over your ears and glared at his teammate. which only made the scotsman laugh. simon didn't mind if he had to take over. he'd never pull the rug out from under you, even when you were under him. you looked prettier under him, letting him take charge of your fucking. he took care of his girl, even when you whined and told him you were capable. there was no need to whine. simon needed to take care of his much smaller, much weaker baby girl. no need to break a nail trying to do stuff that simon could easily do for you.

even with the grey in his blond hair, he still kept up to you. there were times that you were too exhausted from day-to-day that you let simon rut between your thighs until he covered your round ass with his hot cum. you'd whimper which would turn into a yelp when he easily slipped his heavy cock into your sweet pussy. where it belonged. he fucked you heavily as his cum coated your behind, even trailing down your sloped back as you had your head in the covers.

"don't spill a drop off that pretty ass, baby girl. or else i'd might have to mark you again." thank god you liked your men older. <3

🥵❤

Bathtime

synopsis: When Uraume informs you about Sukuna's ability to lactate but his disdain for emptying his tits, you know exactly what to do to help

contains: fem reader, you're Sukuna's assistant, true form Sukuna, nipple play, lactation kink, masturbation, dry humping, mention of blood, dirty talk, sexual tension, porn with plot // wc: 6.6k

MINORS AND AGELESS BLOGS DNI

°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ

Sukuna had grown quite irritable lately, more so than usual. It had been a few days since he started acting out, and you had no idea how to get closer to him to find out what was wrong. Sukuna wouldn't even let Uraume into his chambers to drop off his food, always making them leave it outside the door. It was a gamble whether he would even eat the food at all. 

Sukuna spent the majority of his time locked up in his room, or down the way at a nearby village, blowing off steam. This time when he came back though, he looked worse for wear. His face was in a permanent scowl, his muscles were twitching under his skin, and blood was coating every inch of his body. Not his, but he still looked rough. 

"Sukuna let me-" The king bumps his into your smaller body, making you fall back against the wall behind you, your arms reaching back to brace yourself. Uraume stood opposite from you in the room, catching your eyes before they fell to the floor. They kept their hands together in front of them, watching Sukuna's silhouette disappear from their peripheral vision. When the door to his chambers slammed shut, the loud sound echoing through the halls, Uraume let their gaze drift up as they made their way over to you.

"Are you alright?" They asked, brushing the dust off of your kimono. You ignored their question, your eyes latching on the outside of his chamber doors. "What is his problem? He's always grumpy but... this is new." You said, rubbing the ache from the back of your neck. Uraume sighed and placed their hands back together in front of them, putting some distance between the two of you.

"I know you haven't been this close to Sukuna-sama for very long, but this isn't out of character for him at times. There's a reason for it." You looked back over to Uraume, confusion evident on your features as you tilted your head to the side. "He- He doesn't like to acknowledge it, he's stubborn," Uraume said, averting their gaze. Their expression looked conflicted, their nose scrunched as they stared at the floor.

"Acknowledge what?" You asked, prying further. "Sukuna, he-" Uraume paused to clear their throat before they finished, "he lactates." It took a moment for their words to register in your head, but once they did, your jaw dropped. Just when you were about to question them further, they spoke again. "He knows he needs to drain them, but he hates the act of doing so. Which makes him ignore his problem. As a result, as you can imagine, the feeling is quite uncomfortable for him, making him more... grumpy than usual." Uraume explained, using the word you used earlier.

You opened and closed your mouth like a fish out of water, trying to find the right words before you spoke. "How long do these fits of his last?" You asked Uraume. The white-haired chef looked around at the walls that surrounded them, pondering. "His longest fit was two months. It was excruciating to try and care for him during that time, it always is." Uraume said, sighing. They sounded exhausted. 

You wanted to pat them on the back, you didn't know how they dealt with his attitude so well sometimes. "How does he go back to normal?" You ask, fidgeting with the fabric of your kimono absentmindedly as you speak. "All he has to do is relieve himself. He has pumps I keep in the kitchen. If he's ready, he'll come find them." Uraume said, suppressing an eye roll.

You felt bad the chef had to deal with this for decades. Just how many fits of his has he gone through while Uraume was at his side? He probably never thanked them either. You've always looked up to Uraume. They had the kind of elegance and patience you could only dream of achieving someday. You stared at the freshly swept floors of Sukuna's residence. The shiny black tile reflects the light from the chandeliers above you, blinding you. 

"I'll take care of it," You said vaguely, determination laced in your tone. Uraume's eyebrows furrowed together as they looked at you quizzically. "I hate to see you get treated so roughly by him all because he refuses to milk his tits." Uraume's eyes went wide, their hand shot up to block their expression from you, hiding the blush that crept up their face from your use of anatomy language for the man. 

"You- I don't know if you'll have much luck. He's a stubborn man." Uraume said, sounding like they were dismissing your idea. You were about to try and press them further when they spoke before you. "But if you really want to give it a go, I'll take you to where I keep his pumps." Uraume could swear your eyes shimmered at their words.

--

You took a deep breath before rapping your knuckles against the king's quarters, immediately dropping to your knees, the pump tucked away in a bag, slung around your shoulder. "Sukuna-Sama, I ran a bath for you and I-" The door swung open before you could finish your sentence. The door slammed hard against the wall, making you close your eyes, your body tensing reflexively. You saw two sock and sandal-covered feet in your line of sight, making your heart race. 

"Let me help you wash up Sukuna." It wasn't uncommon for you to help Skuna in the bath, help him get dressed, other mundane tasks, so your proposal didn't seem out of the blue. You wanted to give your reason for asking, as you usually just assumed you would unless he said otherwise. But you guessed if you had added that you wanted to help him because he seemed like he was having a hard time lately, he would mistake it for pity, and your head would be severed from your body.

Only Sukuna truly knew your worth to him, so he would never do such a thing, but you thought otherwise. Sukuna huffed out a breath before he walked past you and took a sharp left, heading to the bathroom, where you had already drawn him a bath.

You sighed in relief when he turned another corner, now out of your view. You briefly wondered what the hell you were doing. Hands clasped together in front of you, you pushed open the cracked door of the bathroom. You were met with Sukuna's rippling back, covered in now dried blood from his earlier massacre, contrasting nicely against his pale skin. Your eyes dared to travel down further, starting from his heels, up the strong muscles of his calves, and the tight muscles of his as- 

Sukuna's glowing red eyes peered at you from over his shoulder, making you swiftly avert your eyes, finding the floor of the bathroom. It was hot in the room as you shut the door behind you, locking yourself in with your king. You couldn't tell if the heat you felt creeping through your body was from the steam around you, or something else. 

Splashing of water took you out of your trance and back to the man in front of you as he descended into the tub, the clear fluid overflowing around him, creating a mess on the floor. Swallowing whatever saliva was left in your dry mouth, you walked forward, making sure not to sneak up on him and instead walking around the side of the bath to set your bag on the chair in the corner of the room, a few feet in front of the bath.

You didn't dare to look, but you could feel Sukuna's eyes tracking your every move from the moment you were in his sights. You squeezed your fists into the fabric of the bag, closing your eyes and taking a deep breath as you tried to ready yourself to turn around and face him. 

"You're nervous." Sukuna's deep voice cut through the tense, hot room, creating goosebumps along your flesh. You turned on your heels, making eye contact with him. You tried to ignore the now pinkish color of the skin of his chest in your peripherals, his body warmed by the water around him. "Nonsense, it's just a little hot in here." You explained, making your way towards the tub.

When you reached the side of the bath centered in the room, you reached out to grab the washcloth hanging off the side, half submerged in the water. Sukuna's hand gripped your wrist entirely, his stronghold keeping you in your place. you didn't dare to even breathe. "Lie to me again, you won't like the consequences." You tried to keep your breathing steady as your eyes traced the rippled in the water around his knee.

You nodded, still averting your gaze. The only thing you could hear was how intense your heartbeat sounded in your ears. His touch had been so unexpected. If you weren't nervous before, you certainly were now. Sukuna squeezed your small wrist, cutting off your blood flow entirely for a moment, your hand throbbing at the loss of it. You could feel his eyes cutting daggers through the side of your face. Finally, he released you, placing his heavy hand back along the side of the tub.

You took the washcloth in your hand and walked around the tub until you were met with his wide back. You took deep breaths behind him, trying to steady your racing heart now that you were out of his sight at least. Unfolding the washcloth, already hot and damp with water, you reached out and placed it against Sukuna's skin, not missing the way his muscles contracted under your touch.

Taking care of Sukuna relaxed you, you felt most at a place like this. Your eyes traced the markings on his skin as you rubbed the dried blood from his body, collecting it on the washcloth. You leaned down to your side, crouching a bit as you dipped the rag in a smaller bucket of water, cleaning the blood off of it before you went in again. The water turned a pinkish color from the first wipe. 

"Relax Sukuna, you did a lot of work today." You said, trying to ease him as you rubbed the rag over his shoulders, your other hand holding atop his other shoulder. Sukuna all but grunted at your words, his eyes darting around in front of him, trying to find something worthy of stimulating his vision. Your body relaxed from his tame reaction, the hot water must be doing wonders on his chest. You decided to push your luck.

Moving to the side of him, you brought the rag over his shoulder and around his collarbones, ridding him of the crimson blood there. The water was a big moggy from the blood that had coated the rest of his body, making it hard to see into the water. You could only see blurry shots of his body parts when you dipped the rag into the water.

Sukuna was watching you again, and this time you hadn't noticed. You were too focused on your job at hand, that you failed to notice the piercing red eyes tracking you. You leaned over the tub slightly, reaching the blood that stained his other collarbone. Sukuna was exhausted. The hot water bordering on boiling his skin combined with your soft touch was lulling him away into a calmer headspace.

His chest ached, the feeling standing out like a sore thumb compared to how relaxed the rest of his body was. You noticed his hand on the tub opposite from you had relaxed, his arm now just resting along the side instead of gripping it. You peeked your eyes over at his neck, looking at his face through the corners of your eyes. Sukuna's breathing was even, and his face was still, his eyes shut. You knew he wasn't completely unguarded, he never was, but he was relaxing.

You dipped your hand into the hot water of his tub, your gaze finding his hard chest as you rang out the towel. You couldn't tell if his nipples were red from the hot water, or from his little predicament. Seeing as how his chest was above water though, you could make an educated guess. 

It looked so swollen. Sukuna's muscles were impressive, yes, but you were extremely familiar with his body, and his chest was larger than before. He had kept you away from him for almost a week, so you had failed to notice it before. The skin of his chest looked taut and almost stretched. You placed the rag just above his chest, your eyes finding his face to check if he noticed or felt anything displeasing.

When he gave you no reaction, you dragged the rag down his chest, maybe pressing a little too hard as you went down, but you were determined to ease his ache. You only made it about halfway down his chest before you were being restrained again. This time, Sukuna was more dramatic.

He shot up from the tub, the water reaching about his knees as he kept a strong hold on your arm, distancing you from his chest. Your heart had started racing again, this level of stress seriously couldn't be good for your health. Sukuna's lip twitched in disdain, his eyes sharp and pointed as he glared at you, his jaw muscles clenching under the weight of his teeth. 

You forced yourself to speak, "S-sukuna are you alright?" You asked, feigning ignorance the best you could with how in shock you were from his abrupt actions. Sukuna's breathing stayed quick, his gaze angry. He looked as if he was trying to see if you were being honest, if your words were genuine. More time went by, and his nails digging into your skin hurt you more than you cared to admit. Your arm throbbing where he grabbed you.

"Not. Not there." Sukuna said, sucking in a deep breath. You stayed quiet, mustering a confused look on your face. "My pecs. Do not touch them." He clarified, seeing as how you didn't understand his words the first time. You nodded quickly, keeping your lips firmly shut. It was only then that you realized you were face to face with his crotch.

Sukuna had been naked in front of you countless times, but that doesn't mean you got any more used to it. You've never fully got a glance at his... down there, always stopping yourself from leaning into your desires and looking at him. For some reason in this atmosphere, you wanted to look so bad. More so than you ever have before. You were usually good at curbing your arousal for the king, but it was growing harder and harder the more time you spent with him.

Sukuna squinted his eyes at you before he crouched back down, two of his hands grabbing the sides of the tub as he descended back down, his face now coming more level with your own. You softly pulled back against his hand, reminding him he needed to let you go.

He obeyed seconds later, his eyes staying locked on your face the whole time. Dipping the rag in the water, you swirled it around, pretending you were cleaning it off good before you spoke. "Sukuna-sama, may I ask you something?" You said softly, not wanting to irritate him further. Sukuna stayed silent. Your eyes found his when he failed to answer, that's when you noticed the curt nod he gave you.

Looking back at the rag, you rang it out with two hands, the water droplets creating rings on the surface. "Forgive me for asking, but why am I not allowed to wash you there?" You asked, furrowing your eyebrows as you spoke, trying to give him the impression you really didn't know his situation. "You're... there's still blood on your chest." You added.

Sukuna's eyes stayed locked on yours, an unreadable expression on his features. "The water will wash it away." He responded, ignoring your question. You returned his words with a short nod of understanding. You knew better than to expect Sukuna to admit to you he was in pain. He wouldn't even admit it to himself. 

You dragged the washcloth along the side of his torso, along his ribs just under his arm. Sukuna's lip twitched, the pressure from his chest extended to the side of his pecs as well, making your touch irritable, but Sukuna was able to control his reaction, miraculously. 

You noticed the water shift with him as he pushed his hips forward, sliding down into the water more as you scrubbed his body clean of the blood. "Would you like me to abstain from touching you here too?" You asked, keeping your eyes on his chest instead of his face when you asked the question. "If I don't want you touching me somewhere, you will know," Sukuna said, his eyes squinting at you as he spoke.

Before you could stop yourself, you let out a soft laugh. More like a soft breath of air passing through your nose, but the small smile on your face made the sound have a direct correlation. You corrected yourself immediately, clearing your throat you distanced yourself from his body a bit and dipped the towel back into the water.

Walking around the other side of the tub, going behind him to escape his gaze for a moment, you started cleaning the blood off of his left side. You pressed your fingers along the sides of his ribs, making small circle motions almost at the end of his pec, giving him small relief through the discomfort. Sukuna was now staring at the ceiling, his jaw bulging under the weight of his teeth each time you pressed against the side of his sore pec.

Just when you were about to move on to another part of him, as you were dragging your hand away from the underside of his chest, a small white drop of fluid dripped down his chest and met with the water below him, right next to your hand. You froze in place, watching how the milky color faded into the crimson water, becoming the same shade.

You peeked your eyes up and noticed Sukuna was still looking away, meaning you could investigate a little. Biting your lip, you repeated the same action, rubbing right under his chest. This time though, you kept your eyes on his red nipples, as you had a pretty strong indication of what had happened, and you didn't want to miss it this time.

As you pressed against him, sure enough, another white droplet dripped down his chest, following the same trail as the last. The small droplet left an off-white streak along his pale skin. You pressed your thighs together, you had no idea the sight would be so erotic. Hell, you were starting to think you were going to be unsuccessful in your endeavors with getting to relieve Sukuna.

While you were ogling his tits and subtly rubbing your thighs together, trying to diminish the heat that was forming between your legs, Sukuna had dropped his eyes on you. You were foolish to think he wouldn't feel himself lactating, and especially stupid if you didnt think he wouldn't pick up on how you repeatedly rubbed him in the same spot.

Sukuna watched carefully as milk spilled from his chest, your watchful, lidded eyes not missing a single second of it. "Are you having fun?" His voice echoed in the hot room, making your hair stand on edge at the sound. You swallowed hard, slowly retreating your hand away from him. You let your eyes trace his tattooed skin up and up and up, until you were met with his face, which looked almost amused.

"You planned to do this all along didn't you?" He accused, making your eyebrows shoot up in shock. You distanced yourself, dropping the rag in the tub with him as you waved your hands in front of yourself. "N-no Sukuna, I just- I noticed it just now." You explained, looking anywhere but his face. "I put the pieces together just now. Y-you told me not to touch your t-" You quickly corrected yourself, about to use an extremely inappropriate word to describe your boss's pecs.

You cleared your throat before you spoke. "-Chest, and when I saw the liquid just now I-" "What did I say about lying?" Sukuna interrupted, making you find his eyes swiftly. You furrowed your eyebrows together, a drop of sweat sliding down your face. "Do you think I wouldn't hear you talking to Uraume in the hall? You were a mere ten feet away from my quarters, you think my hearing is so inefficient?" 

You felt all the blood drain from your face, your jaw falling open in tandem, you were going to die here. "Looks like I wasn't hearing things then," Sukuna smirked, your reaction giving everything away. Your skin was vibrating, and the heat you felt between your legs was gone in an instant, only fear remained inside of you.

Sukuna smiled, resting his head in his hand as he looked you up and down. "Well? Aren't you going to defend yourself?" He asked, a smug look on his face. 

You decided it was now or never, he was already for sure going to kill you. Might as well fess up. "I- if you knew, why did you let me go when I touched your chest the first time? Surely you knew my intentions." You asked, keeping your distance. Sukuna's smile grew, smile lines forming around it. "It's fun to tease you." He said shamelessly like the sadist he is. You swallowed hard, resisting the urge to look away from his intense gaze.

"Uraume tried to talk me out of it. If you're going to take this out on anyone, take it out on me. I couldn't stand seeing you treat them so harshly, so I took your pumps and ran you a bath, hoping I would be able to relieve you somehow." You blabbed, keeping your hands firmly in front of yourself. Sukuna clicked his tongue in his mouth, his eyes having a darker look in them after your confession.

"I half-assed ambush." He responded. "Just how did you think you were going to get those horrid things on my chest without me noticing? Hm?" Sukuna asked, his tone becoming harsher when he spoke of the pumps. You took in a deep breath and turned your head to the side, looking at your bag which had the pumps tucked away.

"Worst case I was going to ask you straight up and see if you cut my head off or not." You replied. Sukuna laughed at how casually you spoke to him, you must really think you were going to die. "But you surmised deceiving me would be better than being direct?" Sukuna challenged, his eyes giving you a one-over while you weren't looking. 

The atmosphere had gotten hot again. The heat started returning to your body the longer you stayed alive. Why hadn't he taken your life yet? You looked back to him and nodded, not giving him any more of your reasons, you had spoken enough. Sukuna dropped his hand back down along the side of the tub and tipped his head back, his slanted eyes staring at you from behind his bottom lashes.

"Ask." He said curtly, his fingers tapping along the side of the tub. You blinked at him, considering his words carefully. After a long beat of silence, you spoke. "Sukuna-Sama, may I help you relieve yourself with the pumps?" You asked, keeping your eyes on his. His toothy grin made you throb under your robe. "No." He replied. You still kept your eyes on him, challenging him.

"Ask again." He demanded, tipping his head to the side. "Sukuna-Sama." You paused at his name as you figured out the meaning behind his words. His disdain while he spoke about the pumps must mean he didn't want to use them, but what other way was there? Possibly he couldn't mean...

"Can I relieve you?" You asked, leaving out the part about the pumps. Sukuna released a soft laugh, amused and impressed at how quickly you had figured out what he wanted you to ask. "And how will you relieve me?" He pushed further.

The vagueness in his words made you fight the urge to press your thighs together, a fire burning hot between them. "Anyway, you'd like me to, Sukuna." You replied, not even daring to blink as you tested him. Sukuna licked his lips before tipping his head back down, looking at you straight on. "What are you waiting for then?" He challenged, his knees poking out the top of the water spreading to make room for... something, or someone.

You slowly walked up to the tub, your eyes never once leaving his. "Perhaps we should change the water first." You replied, leaning down to the drain on the outside of the tub. Sukuna's hand grabbed the back of your neck firmly as you leaned down, stopping you from moving any further. "That won't be necessary." He replied, pulling you upwards.

"You aren't afraid of a little blood are you?" He teased, one of his eyebrows raising in amusement. You shook your head, placing your hand on his that still held the back of your neck. Sukuna released you, the smile still evident on his face. Your heart was racing a million miles a minute. He wanted you to get in the tub with him right? That's why he said that? What if you were interpreting his words wrong? What if-"

"Get it. Keep me waiting for another second and I'm changing my mind." Sukuna's deep voice reverberated through your body, shutting down any insecure thought that popped into your head. He was fibbing, there was no way he could go any longer without having his chest milked, he was so sore but his teasing was the only way to get you to hurry up.

You pulled the bow keeping your robe together undone, the thick fabric falling off of your body, exposing a thinner, white robe underneath. Sukuna felt saliva start to pool in his mouth, he could see the figure of your body almost perfectly now, and he would see it even clearer once you got in the water with him. You kicked the kimono to the side and grabbed the edge of the tub.

You swung your leg over it, dipping it into the blood-stained water. Immediately the temperature made you tense the muscles in your leg as you inhaled a sharp breath. "There you go." Sukuna said softly, his large hand grabbing your thigh, pulling you into the bath with him. If the atmosphere didnt feel tense and intimate earlier, it sure as hell did now.

You slipped on the bottom of the tub when your foot reached the bottom, your kimono getting drenched with the water around you, making the fabric sheer as you reached out and Grabbed Sukuna's shoulders, bracing yourself. Sukuna tsked, blinking away the water that had splashed in his eye before your waist was being grabbed with two hands and you were pulled into the water, your thighs straddling his pelvis, just above his...

"Didn't know you could be so clumsy." Sukuna teased, making your face turn bright red as you retracted your hands from his shoulders, sitting back. He kept a strong hold on your waist, keeping you against him. "I wonder what else you're hiding from me." Sukuna purred, tiping his head at you. You swallowed hard before looking down at his chest, swollen and irritated.

It felt like millions of little needles were pricking your skin from the heat, but the sight of Sukuna's chest in front of you distracted you enough for the pain to not feel unbearable. "How- how do I go about..." You stuttered softly, fidgeting with your hands in front of you. "Ask your question in a way I can understand. You aren't a child." Sukuna retorted, making you scrunch your eyebrows together in embarrassment.

His glowing eyes on you didnt help how nervous you were feeling. "The liquid that came out of them earlier, what was it?" You asked, backtracking to make sure you knew exactly what you were dealing with. Sukuna looked unimpressed, staring at you like you were dumb. "What do you think? Surely you can't be that dense," he responded. You felt the vein in your head throb, was he incapable of answering a question straight on?

You were hesitant to ask your next question. How you should get the milk out. Usually, mothers would breastfeed or use a pump to get the milk out, was it really the same for Sukuna? "Why do you produce... milk?" You asked, reaching out slowly before softly placing your hands on his chest with featherlight pressure.

"I'm not a mother if that's what you're asking," Sukuna said, a hint of humor behind his deadpanned answer. You didn't even know he was capable of making jokes. "Of course not." You responded, softly squeezing his chest, resulting in a long inhale from the man underneath you, his nails digging into your waist.

Sukuna's eyes fell to your chest, which was not soaked with the water and sheer. Unfortunately for him, you were wearing a bra, but the sight of it through your now-see-through clothes was a treat nonetheless. "Just do what you feel is right." He answered your unspoken question, his eyes lazily sliding back up to find yours.

With a nod, your eyes left him and dropped down to his tatted chest. You unknowingly wiggled on his lap before you groped his chest harder, resulting in Sukuna rolling his head to the side. You pressed the tight muscles together, rubbing his chest in circles, trying to increase his blood flow there. Sukuna's eyes shut halfway at the painfully pleasureful. 

You worked your hands from the outside of his chest inward until you reached his nipples. You felt yourself throb between the legs repeatedly, the pace almost matching that of your heartbeat. You had no idea how worked up this would make you. Sukuna winced, almost unnoticeably, when you squeezed your hands right around his nipples, a white stream trickling down his chest.

You wanted to apologize, but once again didnt want him to feel self-conscious about feeling the pain. Sukuna rolled his eyes, his lip twitching at the feeling of his tits being milked bringing him relief in more ways than one. His cock had been hard from the moment you had started bathing him, his teasing and your facade of not knowing what you were doing to him only riled him up more. 

The pressure of your hands stimulating his irritated chest outweighed the pleasure with the discomfort, leading Sukuna to grip your waist harder and groan. "Use your mouth, this method is insufficient." He growled, his voice coming out more hoarse than before.

He wanted you to... suck his nipples? You knew better than to ask any follow-up questions, Sukuna was clearly irritated enough. He was at his breaking point. You squeezed your thighs around his torso, trying to press your clit against his lower tummy to bring yourself some relief, completely forgetting that his body was a part of him and he could feel everything you were doing.

Sukuna stayed silent about your arousal for now. With a soft nod, you leaned forward and latched your lips around his nipple, waiting a brief moment to gather yourself before you sucked. Sukuna immediately groaned, and you made a noise of surprise as his milk flooded your mouth, the taste of it sweeter than you imagined.

Sukuna's hand pressed firmly against the back of your head, his low groans filling the bathroom as you sucked harder, your tongue lapping over his nipple occasionally, soothing the bud. Sukuna groaned through his teeth, his head tipping back as he relished in the feeling of his chest being milked. 

Countless times he's had to relieve himself with the pump, and never once has it ever felt like this. Sukuna's cock twitched repeatedly with the need for attention each time you suckled around his nipple. "Yeahhhh, yeah this is doin' it." Sukuna groaned, shaking his head back and forth as he looked down at you. You peeked up at him, moaning around his nipple as you did your best to make eye contact with him, your eyebrows furrowed.

"Can't tell who this is for with how much yer rubbin' on me." Sukuna teased. He was right, you had been so absorbed in sucking on his chest that you failed to realize you had been steadily humping against his lower abdomen, giving your clit some much-needed friction. You stopped and pulled off of his chest the moment he exposed you, his hand still holding the back of your head.

Milk dripped out from his nipple, running down his chest. "I didn't say you had to stop, did I?" He corrected, raising his eyebrows in an unimpressed manner. "I told you, didn't I? Do what you have to do." 

You nodded quickly with a hot face before you leaned down and latched your lips around his other nipple. A loud, long groan was released from Sukuna's longs as you started sucking, some of the milk you were unable to swallow spilling out from your lips and down your chest. Sukuna pulled his lower lip between his teeth, his eyes threatening to roll back in his head at the nipple stimulation.

You heard a sloshing sound behind you. At first, you thought it was your body creating the noise now that you were grinding your cunt on his pelvis freely, but you quickly realized it was something much different when you felt his hand repeatedly bumping against your back. Sukuna was jerking off. 

"So eager huh?" Sukuna teased, his voice much darker and needier now. Sukuna was wasting no time with teasing himself by taking things slow, your tongue flicking against his nipples made his balls ache with the need to drain them, so that was exactly what he was going to do. Pulling back from his chest you sat up and began tweaking with the swollen buds, making milk leak down them.

Sukuna's hips jolted under yours, making your body jump against him. "Almost there, they're almost empty." Sukuna nodded, his eyes fluttering in their sockets. You weren't sure if he was talking about his situation under the water, or his chest. Nonetheless, you leaned forward and took a nipple back into your mouth again, sucking harder, trying to drain him completely. 

Your own humping was thrown off as Sukuna began fucking up into his fist, the tip of his cock poking you in the back each time he did so. The water sloshed around you, spilling out on the floor from the tub. "Uh-huh. uh-huh, keep sucking, keeeeep fucking sucking." Sukuna demanded, his head falling back along with his jaw.

His jerking was sporadic now. You moaned and whined around his nipple, your sounds coming out choppy and high-pitched from the movement of his body under yours. His pelvis was bumping forcefully against your clit, it almost felt like he was fucking you like this. "The other one, suck the other one, do it now." Sukuna groaned, his nails digging against your scalp, leaving a mean tingling sensation against it.

Sukuna's chest felt empty and much less taught than before, the previous throbbing all gone, save for the throbbing of his nipples from the pleasure you were giving him. Your lithe fingers tweaked the nipple you weren't sucking as you obeyed him and switched to the other, only getting small drops on your tongue now. You had truly sucked him dry. 

Sukuna's hips lost their rhythm, his body going taught under you as his arm went stiff, doing the best he could to jerk himself up to his high. His jaw fell open further and his eyes rolled back in his head. A long, deep groan was released as he came. Long white ropes of cum shot out from his cock right against your back. He rubbed his tip against your skin while he jerked himself off, working himself through it with your help.

His cum mixed in with the water around him. His balls twitched and clenched as they pushed out every last drop of his cum. Pulling away from Sukuna's nipple you pressed both hands against his now empty chest and started humping against his lower stomach, his hard pelvis muscles rubbing perfectly against your clit, making your head spin.

"Nghhh- S-sukuna-" You cried absentmindedly, resulting in a large hand smacking over your mouth, followed by an amused laugh. "Yeah yeah, get yourself off on me but be quiet about it, don't need anyone else hearin' you cry my name," Sukuna said breathlessly, his hand still holding the base of his now spent cock as he watched you finish yourself off.

His hands around your waist tightened and helped you rub yourself along his muscles when he noticed you were having a little trouble the closer you got. "You gonna cum?" He asked, furrowing his eyebrows at you, a hint of neediness in his voice. You nodded, your moans getting muffled by his hand. "Cum then, I'll help you," Sukuna said, pressing you harder against him, bringing more friction to your sensitive clit.

Your eyes rolled back in your head at the feeling, now only seconds from crashing down into your high as you rubbed your needy pussy on him. Sukuna nodded at you, his jaw falling open in a small o, occasionally cracking into a small smile as he watched your eyes and eyebrows twitch and furrow in tandem. 

Your hand left his chest to wrap around his arm at the last second to ground yourself as your orgasm hit you. "There you go." Sukuna drawled, smiling to himself as your body jerked forward and your hips stopped moving on your own. He helped you move against him. Each time your throbbing clit bumped into his lower abs while you came another loud muffled moan was caught behind his hand. 

When you tapped repeatedly against his large arm, he loosened his grip on your waist and released your mouth. A string of saliva connected from your lips to his hand, something you would've been embarrassed about if you were in a clearer mindset. 

Sukuna pat your ass a few times under the water, trying to coax you back into the real world. "That felt good, huh? Looked like it felt good." Sukuna teased. Your eyes were all out of focus and your chest rose and fell heavily with every deep breath you took. "Don't get sleepy on me now, still gotta clean this mess up." 

You wanted to roll your eyes at his audacity. You just drained his tits and came on him and he was already telling you to clean up? "A...A thank you would be nice." You said, wiping your hand over your eyes, getting the sweat off of your face. Sukuna smiled before his hand gripped your chin firmly, shaking your face back and forth. 

"I think the cum I spilled was thank you enough." He said snarkily, making you sigh. He laughed at your irritation, glad to see you were coming back. "Have Uraume throw the pumps away when you get finished here." He said, making you tip your head to the side and look at him funny. 

"I don't think I'm going to need them anymore."

🥵🥵🥵

ミi hear you like magic? i've got a wand and a rabbit!

part one | part two

🍓 pairing: simon "ghost" riley x fem reader

🍓 tags: nsfw, size kink, virgin!reader, oral sex, vaginal sex, rough(?) sex, some mild second-hand embarrassment perhaps, sex toys, edging, failed masturbation attempts, ghost takes your virginity and also maybe ruins you for literally anybody else ever again

masterlist

reblogs are always enormously appreciated!

The ceiling over your head is drab grey and water-stained, the old paint peeling away in strips. It’s an ugly sight, but you barely see it; you’re too busy trying to catch your breath.

The sheets beneath you are uncomfortably damp with your sweat, but you don’t have the energy to roll over just yet. You feel hot and itchy with frustration, and you scowl up at the ceiling above you as your fingers curl into fists. But even though you feel like laying in your now grubby-bedding for the rest of the evening, you can’t let yourself wallow. There’s going to be a knock on your door any minute, and this is not a position you want to be found in.

With an irritable groan, you haul yourself off the bed and to your feet. Your muscles ache and you feel too warm, but you reach for your clothes anyway. The worn cotton of your shirt feels scratchy against your skin, but maybe that’s just because you’re still over-sensitive and irritable.

You can never quite bear to look at the aftermath of what you’d been doing, so you avert your eyes as you gather up the bright silicone and plastic devices littering your mattress. It’s embarrassing now that the adrenaline has worn off and disappointment is beginning to set in, so you end up gathering them all up more roughly than necessary.

The term ‘toy’ seems incongruous to you. It sounds too childish, too immature. It makes you sound like a stupid kid, as though you aren’t a young adult past twenty fumbling your way through sexual self-exploration. It’s embarrassing, and much more frustrating than you ever would have predicted – despite all of your clumsy, desperate attempts at pleasuring yourself, you’ve never quite managed to reach that peak of pleasure you’ve heard other people talking about.

You grumble quietly to yourself as you try to wipe away the sticky lube that’s still coating your thighs. Your muscles are a little achy from all the tensing you’d been doing trying to come with that stupid vibrator, not even accompanied by the satisfaction you had been hoping for.

It’s not as though you’ve never gotten the opportunity to experiment with others; you’re not unforgivably ugly, you don’t think you have a bad personality, and for the past few years you’ve been surrounded by military men that certainly aren’t known for being picky. And it certainly isn’t like you haven’t received your fair share of offers. 

It just never seemed right. You’re not overly concerned about ‘saving’ your virginity or anything like that; it’s just that putting yourself into such a vulnerable position is scary. You’re aware of the irony, of course, that you’d trust many of these people with saving your ass from catching a bullet in the field, but allowing someone to see you so intimately feels like a step too far.

You’re still sweaty and flustered and naked when a knock sounds from your door, and you freeze. The doorknob turns, but doesn’t open; in that moment, you’re deliriously grateful that you had turned the lock – it’s something that you’ve forgotten to do on far too many occasions.

“Lass, you in there?” Oh god, it’s Soap. 

Cursing quietly to yourself, you jolt into action. Your pants are crumpled at the bottom of your bed where you had shed them, and you hurriedly gather them up and struggle your way back into them.

“Gimme a minute!” You yell, praying he doesn’t notice the somewhat frantic edge to your voice.

You stagger slightly as you worm your way into your pants, and then lunge to grab the stupid dildo you’d just been trying to use. You feel your skin prickle with humiliation as you try to force the stupidly large silicone cock into your already full underwear drawer, jamming it shut roughly to hide it from sight. You don’t want to even imagine what Soap might have to say if he were to see what you had been doing; you think you might have to go full deserter mode and abscond into the wilderness.

“Did ye forget about drinks?” Soap’s drawl carries through the thickness of the door. He doesn’t sound even slightly put out – if anything, he sounds a little amused.

You pause, close your eyes, sigh. Fuck. You had not, in fact, forgotten about drinks, you just thought you had more time.

“No, I– just a minute!” You yell back, shoving your shoes on and trying to fix your hair.

You had completely lost track of time, and now you don’t even have time to rinse your sweat-damp skin off – you’re going to have to sit through drinks with the squad all grimy, like a physical reminder of what you had been up to for the last two hours.

When you finally unlock the door and wrench it open, Soap is standing on the other side tapping a staccato rhythm on his thighs with his open palms. He’s dressed casually in just blue jeans and a black muscle shirt, and he gives you a look of semi-disbelief.

“What the hell were you—”

“Gym.” You interrupt, landing on the only explanation you can think of for your sweaty skin and messy hair.

Soap blinks, but apparently decides it’s not worth the effort to continue that line of conversation. He just shrugs, then turns and starts making his way down the hall, slowing his pace for you to catch up.

You exhale; Soap can be like a bloodhound when he suspects there’s gossip to be had, and you’re relieved to have dodged a round of his relentless questioning. You suppose he can be surprisingly tactful sometimes, and he knows you well enough not to press you. Or, perhaps it’s because you come across as such a non-sexual being that  it doesn’t even occur to him that there may be another explanation.

There’s an unofficial tradition that when the squad is on base, everyone gathers in the sparsely decorated recreation room for drinks and card games on Thursday evenings. It usually makes for an enjoyable night; Gaz and Soap can always be trusted to supply whatever bottles of alcohol they’ve managed to get their grubby little hands on, and it’s always amusing to watch Captain Price get increasingly more irate as Soap pretends not to understand the rules of whatever card game they’re playing. The whole illicitness of having contraband on base only makes the whole thing more exciting; the CO’s on base often turn a blind eye to the activity, so long as it’s kept under control.

But tonight, you’re distracted.

The others had offered a bit of good-natured ribbing when you and Soap had turned up late, but before long you’re all settled in a loose circle on the poorly-stuffed couches in the corner of the room. Gaz has already unstoppered a bottle of bourbon, and is attempting to convince a visibly unimpressed Price to play a game of Kings with them. You curl up on one of the worn-out couches opposite them, watching with a small if slightly stiff smile.

The atmosphere is relaxed and pleasant, almost enough to make you forget about the irritating buzz of unfulfilled arousal under your skin. You shift, trying to keep your movements small, subtle, to avoid the notice of your team. Your denim jeans are nowhere near as comfortable as usual, and you wonder briefly if you should have simply worn your cargo pants just to avoid the harsh friction of the denim.

You sit there feeling… unmoored. You fidget, drink your smooth bourbon in sips in an attempt to avoid wincing, and try not to look as obviously out of place as you feel. It’s been like this, recently. Joining the task force has been an accomplishment for you, a source of immense pride – you’re the youngest member (just narrowly beating Gaz for the title) and a woman to boot, and though the squad has never treated you any differently it’s hard to kick the belief that you have something to prove. 

You engage in conversations the best you can, but you’re distracted and you know it must be obvious. Your preoccupation gets you a couple of furrowed brows and glances, but there seems to be an unspoken agreement to give you some space.

You don’t even realise the extent of your distraction until a big body settles down on the loveseat next to you, and you jolt. True to his name, Ghost had appeared near silently, escaping your notice until he lowers himself down to sit next to you.

And damn, you forget how big he is sometimes. It’s an average sized loveseat, but the lieutenant takes up over half of it. He’s obviously being mindful not to consciously crush you, but he’s not being overly cautious when it comes to avoiding touching you. He’s dressed unusually casually, and his thick, muscled thigh is wrapped in blue denim as it presses carelessly against yours. 

“You alright?” He asks, his voice low and smooth as he nudges your knee with one of his big knuckles.

You haven’t been a member of the task force for long, but you would know Simon Riley by his hands alone, by the earthy salt-spice in your nose as he leans a little closer to peer at your face. You tilt your head up, unable to stop the small reflexive smile that breaks over your face at the sight of him.

“Yeah.” You breathe, hurriedly straightening up where you’re sitting. “Yeah, sorry. Just thinking.”

His sudden proximity isn’t doing your current state any favours, and you take a quick sip of your drink in an effort to collect yourself. It’s taking a herculean effort not to stare at the way his biceps are bulging against the straining material of his black cotton t-shirt.

“What’re you thinking about?” Ghost asks as he stretches out his legs with a tired groan. The sound is gruff and gravelly, and you feel blood rush uncomfortably to your cheeks. 

“Nothing.” You say quickly.

He doesn’t believe you, that much is obvious, but Ghost never pushes and he rarely speaks more than he has to. He just gives you a glance, brief and knowing and far more penetrating than it should be, before turning his head back so he can watch the boys playing their card game. He’s holding a crystal tumbler filled with dark amber liquid, but he hasn’t yet pulled his mask up to drink from it.

Your eyes drop to the thick, pale scars that mar the backs of his hands. You trace the path of the scar tissue, eyes lingering around the thick knuckles and broad palms, the way that he holds the glass so casually confidently. He’s got nice hands, probably made all the more attractive by the fact that you hardly ever get to see them. Seeing Ghost without his usual long sleeves and gloves makes you feel like a Victorian pervert snatching stolen glances at a passing lady’s ankles.

A quiet snicker causes your eyes to dart back to his face, and you’re mortified to find that he’s caught you staring.

“What’s got you in such a mood?” He asks. Even through the mask you can tell that he’s smirking, though it doesn’t feel as though he’s making fun of you.

“Just one of those days, I guess.” You say without meeting his eyes.

It’s an evasion at best, but Ghost nods ponderously as though he’s giving this great thought. His stare is penetrating, those big brown eyes watching you as though he can see right through you. Maybe he can. You try not to get too caught up staring at his pale eyelashes, darkened by smears of eyeblack.

“Did something happen?” He asks. The question is casual enough, asked as he lazily swirls his whiskey around in his glass, but his gaze is sharp and assessing.

“No.” You sigh, finally looking properly at him.

It’s a little frustrating, but the squad has been like this with you from the start – protective. Your whole military career has consisted of you veritably clawing your way up through the ranks, and you’ve been surrounded by coarse, gruff men that have underestimated you all your life. 141 is different – they don’t baby you, but the way they treat you is unmistakably softer than how they typically treat each other. The concern can be touching, if a little tiring sometimes.

And maybe it’s because he’s your lieutenant, but Ghost’s attention has always been just this side of overwhelming. It feels like you’re pinned beneath his dark eyes, his gaze somehow sharpened as he watches you from beneath his more casual balaclava, the skull pattern printed on his jaw adding another layer of intimidation. But his shoulders are relaxed as he sits next to you on the small couch, settling the weight of his attention over you like a blanket.

You’ve always respected him, admired him. How could you not? He’s practically a living legend, his reputation larger than life, and he’s scary as fuck. But he’s also softer than you had expected, gentle when he needs to be. He still rides you hard in training, pushing you to your limits and taking no quarter, but you can’t begrudge that. Not when you know he’s working to keep you alive. Perhaps that’s how the attraction had first bloomed; once it started, it was hard to stifle.

Ghost hooks one finger into his balaclava and pulls it up just high enough to expose his mouth, and he presses his glass to his lips to take a sip of his drink. You struggle not to stare like a moron, but he makes it so difficult. His lips are full and pink, and there’s a rugged scar bisecting his top lip. His stubble is dark blond and short, and it doesn’t hide the various scars and marks that decorate his strong jawline. 

You almost jolt when he pulls the mask back down, hurriedly averting your eyes and forcing yourself to look out across the room. It’s not just the 141 that’s decided to take up in the rec room this evening; there are soldiers from other units littered all around the room, laughing and joking, playing lazy games of pool on the table in the corner and smoking. The smoke alarm has been jimmied off the ceiling and the window is open, and even Price is turning a temporary blind eye to the blatant disregard for regulations in favour of puffing on one of his cigars. 

Ghost shifts on the worn-out fabric of the couch, and lays an arm over the back of the headrest behind you. It’s a casual, thoughtless movement, but it ends up pushing his body slightly closer to you in a way that makes you feel as though you’re about to catch fire.

You cross your legs, but the seam of your jeans presses into your pussy in a way that sends a frisson of heat up your spine. You hurriedly uncross your legs, and attempt to school your expression into casual neutrality as you force yourself to tune back into the conversation.

“–ach, c’mon, Captain,” Soap is saying in a wheedling tone that he probably thinks is endearing. “One round of strip poker won’t kill ya–”

“No.” Price says in a voice like thunder, brooking no argument as thick cigar smoke pours from his nose. It gives the impression of an enraged bull.

Soap either is ignorant to the warning, or is choosing to wilfully ignore it. Judging by the sly gleam in his eyes, you can guess which. He turns to you then, and waggles his eyebrows.

“C’mon, lassie, you’ll play, won’t ya?” He asks with a grin that promises trouble. “I guarantee you’ll be a sight better than any o’ these louts.”

“Speak for yourself,” Gaz pipes up, already grinning. “I was looking forward to seeing the Captain in his jocks–”

Price promptly knocks his drink back, before pushing himself up to his feet with a grim groan. “Right. That’s enough of you lot for one night.”

Gaz and Soap break into peals of laughter, settling back into their seats as they watch their captain march away.

“Offer’s still open, love,” Soap says, still snickering when he looks over to you. “Wanna play?”

Ghost shifts, his wide thigh knocking into yours as his arm stretches behind your shoulders. He lets out a short exhale through his nose, but when you glance up at him you find him as stoic and hard to read as always.

You just roll your eyes. It’s not the first time that they’ve tried to rope you into strip poker, and you’re sure it won’t be the last. You can always trust Soap to start stripping his clothes off when he’s three drinks in, whether he’s playing a game or not, so it’s not surprising that he tries to involve other people in his bad decision making.

And it’s not a big deal, really. There’s been countless missions and operations that have ended up with all of you staying in uncomfortably close quarters with each other. You’ve seen them naked countless times, and the same with them for you. It’s never meant anything, and you know that Soap’s teasing is exactly that – you don’t think they’ve ever once looked at you through any sexual lens at all.

But even still, the joke flusters you more than it should.

“Think I’ll be joining Cap in going to bed, actually.” You say, clearing your throat and setting your glass down on the low table in front of the couch.

The playful booing from Soap doesn’t do much to change your mind, and you stick out your tongue at him and Gaz as you push yourself up from the couch. You try to ignore the loss of heat at your side when you move away from Ghost, though you can’t help but glance back at the lieutenant. He’s not looking at you, his gaze directed into his glass. You try not to feel disappointed about that.

You say your goodnights, and retreat from the rec room.

By the time you make it back to your dorm however, you’re already playing the conversation back over in your head and wondering if you had made the wrong decision.

Perhaps you should have just played the damn game. Despite your inexperience with all things sexual, you’re not actually all that shy about your body. On missions, you and the squad are often forced into tight quarters, and they've all seen you in various stages of undress before. It's hard to be self-conscious around a group of people that have seen you at your worst, whether that’s soaked in blood, unshowered, sleep-deprived, or injured.

But you were so keyed up from your earlier failed attempts at masturbation that the thought of being so physically exposed in front of your squad is mortifying. It feels as though your unresolved arousal is still simmering through your veins, turning your thoughts slow and soupy and stupid. 

It’s not so surprising. Your preferred method of dealing with stress is coming back to your private bunk and messing around with your vibrator until you’ve forgotten all of your problems. The problem is, you’ve never quite been able to reach that climax you’ve heard so many talk about.

It’s not for lack of trying, and it’s not as though you haven’t come close to that toe-curling finish you crave so much. But it’s like there’s some sort of block, something that always holds you back before you can go plummeting over that edge. Something that makes the buzzing pleasure dissipate before your eyes like smoke, leaving you worked up and so frustrated. It’s probably inevitable that all those ruined finishes have built up like sludge in your veins, leaving you slow and distracted and irritable.

You eye your underwear drawer thoughtfully as you perch on your bed, before reaching inside and drawing out the same dildo you had been using earlier. You wonder if it would be too much to try again tonight – the muscles in your calves still feel a little bit over-worked from training all day, and you have a feeling that straining in an attempt to reach an orgasm you’ll likely never attain will only make it worse.

But the thought of Ghost in that stupid tight cotton shirt stays firmly stuck in your mind, and that really makes the decision for you. Before you can think too much about it, you’re sliding your jeans off and climbing atop your mattress. The sheets are dirty anyway, after all. May as well have some fun before you change them.

You slide your panties off next, then kick them to the side. It’s difficult not to feel a little pathetic, but you push those feelings aside. So what if you have an embarrassing little crush on a superior officer? It’s not like that’s unusual within the military, and you’re quite certain that dealing with all that unresolved attraction like this is the most sensible thing you can do.

You fish out the bottle of lube you had been using earlier, and drizzle it liberally along the dildo’s length before setting it aside on the blanket. While you’ve used your dildo plenty of times, you still struggle to grow accustomed to the stretch of it. It’s a good dildo – a vibrating one in the rabbit style, designed to stimulate your g-spot and clit at the same time. It was damn expensive too, but it’s one luxury you’re willing to indulge in.

You close your eyes, slide it between your legs, and hit the power button. A low bzzz emanates from between your thighs; you jerk at the immediate barrage of pleasure, your abs tightening and your legs twitching apart, creating more room between them.

Your body is quick to react, sweat prickling under your armpits and your heart thudding quickly in your chest. You can feel electric pleasure coursing through you as you press it against your clit, your toes curling into your sheets.

You bring the vibrator lower, your clit throbbing a little at its sudden absence before you press it inside, sighing. It slips inside much too easily – you’re almost embarrassed by the easy slide. You’re so wet, both from your failed attempt at masturbation earlier and from sitting beside Simon fucking Riley all evening. It’s a deeper, subtler pleasure now, and you clench around it with a quiet moan. 

You cycle through the vibrator’s different settings, making it buzz at odd intervals or lower intensities in your usual attempt to build up an orgasm. You wish, with sudden and mortifying clarity, that it could be replaced with a person. More specifically, a person with big hands and firm muscles that still have some soft give to them, and a toe-curlingly gravelly voice.

You squirm, shifting your hips to change the angle of the vibrator inside you. Without meaning to, you imagine Ghost. It’s hard not to, considering your close proximity to him all evening. Your cheeks heat as you imagine Ghost actually being here, watching you all still and silent with that penetrating dark-eyed stare of his. 

You huff out a breath, arching off your bed. This is always the best part. You have to ensure that you relish the build up, before it all fizzles out from between your fingers. You whimper, soft and quiet, clenching around the stiff silicone as it buzzes away inside of you.

Right as you press the soft little vibrating bunny ears to your clit, there’s a knock on the door. Then, horrifically, like a scene from your fucking nightmares, your door opens.

“Kid, you–”

Ghost is already half-way through the door when he lays eyes on you, and then he goes completely still in your doorway.

“Fuck.” You hiss, scrambling to knock the stupid thing off. 

You fumble for it, panicking. The end is slippery and you can barely manage to grip it. When you finally do, it’s difficult to pull out, your body still attempting to hold it inside. It’s another agonising few seconds to turn it off, the vibrator unfortunately featuring one of those awfully thought-out designs that makes you have to cycle through every single one of the settings rather than hit an off-switch.

And then, finally, silence.

Ghost is living up to his name right now; he’s as stock still and silent as a dead man, stiff as a board as he stares unblinkingly at you. You’re not even sure that he’s breathing, but you can see the whites of his eyes as he gapes at you, frozen.

You stare back at him blankly, hoping that your bed comes to life and swallows you whole just to put an end to your mortification.

At last, Ghost blinks, then finishes his sentence. “You left your phone.”

He lifts his arm. In his large, thick fist, is your stupid goddamn phone. You must have left it on the couch when you had gotten up to leave. You might have wondered at the lieutenant voluntarily bringing it to your dorm for you, but you’re hit with a wave of humiliation so strong that it wipes your brain completely blank.

“Ah.” You say, and your voice cracks. “Thanks.”

There’s a moment of mortifying silence, and then Ghost steps into your room. Your heart jolts right up into the base of your throat as he closes your door behind him. The click of the door is as loud as a gunshot in the silence that’s settled over the room.

Ghost still hasn’t blinked. He’s watching you with eyes that look almost black in the dim light of your room, intense as a predator. 

“I–” You attempt to speak, and your throat clicks dryly. “I didn’t–”

Far too late, you realise that your legs are still splayed open. You snap them shut, inhaling a choked breath through your nose.

“I thought I locked the door.” You finish lamely. 

Ghost apparently decides to simply disregard that, which you’re honestly a little grateful for. Instead he steps towards you – the enormous bulk of him feels as though he’s completely filling every bit of space in the room, sucking out all the damn oxygen.

“...‘S this why you were so distracted this evening, hm?” He says as he approaches the bed. “You were in a mood ‘cause you wanted to get back to playing with yourself?”

It’s not a question, exactly. At least, it’s not phrased like one. Ghost’s tone is knowing, with an undertone of gruff amusement. You’re certain that you’re not imagining the rough, breathless quality to his voice either, though the thought sends nerves fizzing through your bloodstream.

“No.” You deny uselessy; it’s plainly obvious what you were doing, after all. “No, I just–”

He doesn’t wait for you to finish. His eyes are still glued to you, even though your thighs are now pressed together. Before you can stop him, he reaches down and takes a hold of your hot pink vibrator where you had been trying to hide it beneath your thigh.

“Cute little thing.” He comments, tilting his head to look at the dildo hanging between his thick fingers.

Mortification burns through you. A panicked sort of screech escapes you and you yank it back out of Ghost’s stupid big hand, shoving it under the blankets. 

Perhaps if it had been anyone else, your humiliation wouldn’t be burning quite so intensely. But this is Ghost – your lieutenant, the gruff man that you’ve looked up to ever since you joined the task force. He’s not a man famed for his patience, nor for his eloquence, which is making this situation all the more unbearable.

“Lt,” You wheeze, scrambling to sit up and cover your pussy with your hands as you squeeze your legs closed. “I swear I didn’t– I’m sorry–”

But Ghost doesn’t seem interested in your apologies. He’s still watching you as though he can see right through the damn blanket, as though he’s measuring you up and trying to come to a decision about something. In that moment, you hate your reaction to him – no matter how humiliating this situation is, you want him to approve of you, even now.

“Didn’t mean to interrupt.” He grunts, and then he sits down on your bed.

You gape at him. It feels as though your brain has stalled; you’re pretty sure you’re not reacting correctly right now. You probably should have screamed when the lieutenant walked right into your room without knocking. That surely would have sent him straight back out again. And even now, you should probably be ordering him out, telling him to leave. 

But you don’t.

“I was.. um.. finished anyway.” You manage to croak out. You sound so pathetic that you nearly make yourself cringe.

Ghost doesn’t answer immediately. He just watches you, his eyes as dark as ever beneath the mask. For a moment, you think he’s not going to answer at all.

But then he says, “Didn’t look like you finished to me.”

Blood rushes to your face so quickly that it makes you light-headed as you catch his meaning. Oh, what the fuck. This is just adding salt to the wound now.

“I wasn’t trying to–” You start, then cut yourself off. “That’s not why I was– I was just trying to relax.”

In the ensuing silence, you realise how silly you sound. At the very least, Ghost doesn’t laugh; he just tilts his head to the side, consideringly.

“Let me see.”

You gape at him. “I– sir–”

“Let me see, sergeant.”

It’s not an order. Not quite. Ghost’s voice is effortlessly assertive, but it falls just short of being a command. You have room to refuse. You could tell him to get out of your dorm right now, and he’d do it. Knowing the lieutenant, he’d never bring it up again, either.

You drop your knees apart, spreading your thighs in an unpracticed, self-conscious sort of motion. 

Under the lieutenant’s sharp gaze, your skin prickles and your nerves strain. Even sitting down on your bed, he’s a veritable behemoth of broad shoulders and thick corded muscle. His hulking form towers over you even now, and you feel so damn small as you lay there propped up against your pillows in nothing but a t-shirt.

Ghost has seen you naked before, obviously. You can’t afford to be prudish in the military, where you never know when you’ll next have true privacy, and you’ve changed out and showered with the squad countless times. It’s never meant anything, and the men in 141 have never made you feel anything less than comfortable with them.

This, however, is different. This isn’t just a case of catching a quick glimpse of your nude form as you shower in the group shower rooms when you’re out on missions – your whole damn pussy is out on display for him, still glistening wet and sticky from your ministrations and the lube you’d used.

Ghost’s inhale is as loud as a thunderclap. You’ve never felt so exposed, so vulnerable in another person’s presence. You feel a little ridiculous laying like this as he watches you, but another part of you feels so humiliatingly desperate for some kind of approval from your lieutenant. 

At first, that approval is nowhere to be found. Ghost is notoriously difficult to read, and you’re beginning to sweat as you lay there waiting for a response – any response.

At last, he makes a noise. It’s part grunt, part hum, and part groan.

“You’re still wet, sergeant.”

Are you imagining it, or is his voice an octave deeper than usual? 

Your eyes trace his face, trying to imagine what he looks like beneath the mask. You can see the suggestion of his nose, the square curve of his jaw. His darkened eyes are watching you so carefully that you feel as though you’re physically being pinned in place.

You swallow. “It’s just– I–”

“You didn’t get to finish.” Ghost interrupts, with the air of completing your sentence for you. 

You try to speak, but nothing more than a strangled sort of murmur escapes. You swallow hastily, then try again.

“I wasn’t going to. Sir.” You tack on the title at the end as an afterthought, but this whole situation is so far beyond professional that you probably needn’t have bothered. “Finish, I mean. I… I never do.”

You’ve admitted it before you can really think about it, and then you regret it wildly. You can’t help but wonder if you’ve overstepped a boundary, but then again the boundaries are currently so blurred that they’re virtually impossible to discern.

“You never finish.” Ghost repeats it. Slowly, staring right at your face, as though he’s confirming what you’ve just said. 

It sounds so much worse in his deep, gravelly voice.

Embarrassment blooms, thick and sickly in your stomach. Your legs start to twitch closed, too embarrassed to be having this conversation with your cunt bared like this, but then Ghost’s big paw of a hand reaches out to settle over your knee, keeping you open and exposed. It’s so rare to see his hands ungloved, and the bare skin of his callous-roughened hand feels almost scorching hot against your inner knee.

“I don’t– I’ve tried,” You say, and you can’t help but feel as though you’re just digging yourself further into a hole, here. “But I don’t– I’m not able to. I mean, I’ve come close, I’m just not able to… you know.”

You trail off lamely, feeling like the biggest fucking loser ever. Why are you telling him this? Why the fuck haven’t you reacted properly, and kicked him the hell out of your room?

Deep down, a shameful little part of you already knows the answer to that. You’re feeling awfully, sickeningly hopeful. Having Lieutenant Riley in your dorm, sitting on your bed and staring so hungrily at the wet, swollen parts between your legs feels like something out of your wildest wet dreams.

His eyes flick towards your pink silicone rabbit dildo, half-hidden under your blanket, and he grunts consideringly before reaching out and taking it into his hands again. It’s standard-size, but it looks small in his big hands.

“You ain’t doin’ it right, then.” He says, so bluntly that you just blink at him. “Show me how you use it.”

For a brief, wild moment, you wonder if you’re experiencing visual and auditory hallucinations right now. Surely you can’t really be experiencing this right now – and yet the lieutenant is still watching you, and you’ve never disobeyed a direct order before. 

He hands you the vibrator, then waits expectantly.

And… well. All you ever try to do is impress him. 

You shuffle your legs open a little wider, ignoring the flustered heat that scalds your cheeks. You’ve never been all exposed like this in front of another person, and the weight of Ghost’s eyes on you is reminiscent of being under a spotlight.

You swear his eyes darken even further when you press the stiff silicone rabbit dildo to your cunt, if it’s even possible for that gaze to get darker beneath the thick balaclava and eyeblack smeared over the narrow strip of skin that’s visible.

The dildo sinks in so easily that it’s almost embarrassing, and your breath catches both from the stretch and the way Ghost leans in a little closer to see. Far from turning you off, you feel your body throb in response to his proximity, and your cunt flutters pathetically around the plastic toy. You shift, attempting to get a little more comfortable, but you can’t dispel the nerves fizzing in your blood as you attempt to push the dildo a little deeper under Ghost’s sharp gaze.

His big, hulking body is so perfectly still as he watches you that it’s making you a little nervous. The only reaction that you get from him is a small, considering hum, but even then you can’t figure out what it means. Your movements are a little clumsy, so hyper-conscious that he’s watching every single thing you do that you end up fumbling a little. He’s looking at you in the same way he assesses threats, his intense dark eyes examining every movement and reaction you make. It makes you feel small and jittery, especially when you realise that he’s judging you by what you’re doing.

“You gonna turn it on?” He asks, and oh god his voice has definitely dropped lower and huskier. You know you’re not imagining it. 

You can’t even bring yourself to respond with words. You just make a strangled sort of sound of agreement, then clumsily hit the on button. The toy buzzes to life once more, and your toes curl absent-mindedly into the sheets as the soft silicone bunny ears pulse against your clit.

It feels nice, but you can’t manage to concentrate on the feeling. Hyper-aware of Ghost’s attention, you let out a quiet moan as you shift the vibrator inside you. It’s a little exaggerated, but you can’t help it – you feel like you should be putting on some kind of a show. 

You glance back at Ghost’s face, trying to guess what he’s thinking; even through the mask, you can tell that he’s frowning. You feel your stomach clench anxiously. Have you done something wrong?

“This how you usually do it?” He asks.

You swallow thickly, feeling a bit stupid. “Um.. yeah.”

Ghost grunts. He doesn’t sound impressed.

“No wonder you can’t come.” He says wryly.

You go still, eyes widening. In the silence, the bzzzzt! of your stupid vibrator is louder than ever. A sudden wave of shame washes over you, and you start to close your legs again in an effort to block the sight of the toy stuffed into your pussy.

“Oh,” You snap sourly, your embarrassment making you irritable. “So you’re the pussy expert now?”

That startles a loud bark of a laugh out of the lieutenant, a sound so rare that you find yourself desperately trying to commit it to memory.

“Think I might know a bit more than you, sweetheart.” He says. He’s relaxed now, his wide shoulders rolling back. He’s always so effortlessly confident, always so assured in himself and his abilities in a way that makes you feel like a silly little girl. 

Judging by the way the corners of his eyes are just slightly wrinkled beneath the mask, Ghost is smirking at you. He finds this funny.

“What about when you’re with other people, hm?” He asks, and his eyes drop back down to try and get a look at you again. When he realises that your legs are clamped tight together, he reaches out to guide your thighs apart again. “No one’s ever impressed you?”

His hands are big and rough and hot, and your willpower crumbles like wet paper as you allow him to open your legs all over again. The vibrator is still buzzing sadly inside you, mostly forgotten about; the stimulation is nice, but it’s never been enough for you.

You huff a weak laugh. You should have known that this would come up, and now you find yourself floundering a little.

“No one’s ever tried.” The confession comes out like a whisper, like a secret.

You can see the moment Ghost understands; realisation settles heavy over him like a physical weight, and the whites of his eyes flash as they widen just slightly. For a moment, he says nothing at all. He doesn’t move – it doesn’t even look like he breathes. 

“No?” He says, except it doesn’t really sound like a question. It sounds rough, and you can feel the almost convulsive motion of his fingers tightening around your knee. 

You shake your head wordlessly, beyond embarrassed now.

Ghost’s wispy blond eyelashes flutter softly as his eyes dart down to your pussy, still humiliatingly stuffed with your stupid little vibrator. He takes a moment to stare, then looks back up to your face. He’s so frustratingly confident about everything he does, not an ounce of shame in his posture even as you wilt beneath him.

“Never messed around with anybody?”

“No.” You say, and it comes out on a wheeze. He holds your gaze without faltering, and you realise that he’s expecting you to elaborate. “No, I– it just never happened. I was never… um, I was just always too busy, I guess.”

“Too fussy, more like.” He mutters, quiet enough that it seems like it’s a comment meant just for himself. You don’t know how to take that, so you chew your lip and stay quiet.

His eyes drop down to the vibrating dildo again, and you recognise something that looks like a flash of hunger. It feels like there’s pressure building up beneath your skin, tight and hot, and your thighs fall open a little further. You feel raw and so, so exposed, but you don’t even care when Ghost is looking at you like that.

“Let me try.” He says, the words falling out sharp and harsh as though he they’ve burst out of his mouth before he can stop them. It’s not like Ghost to speak without thinking it through, perfectly calculated, and your breath catches a little at the offer.

How could you ever say no to that? You don’t really think that he’s going to succeed in making you come – at this point you’re pretty sure your body is a little bit broken and you’re just not capable of orgasming at all, and that’s whatever – but the chance to get fucked by Ghost? To lose the lingering vestiges of your viriginity to your ridiculously hot, mysterious, massive lieutenant? It’s like something out of a dream.

“Okay.” You choke out, nodding stupidly. “Yeah.”

You want to be touched. You don’t think you’ve ever actually felt the yearning for physical contact this strongly in your life; you’re practically holding your breath as you wait for Ghost to make a move.

Finally, he reaches out. His first move is to pull the stupid little dildo out of you, still vibrating, and you feel yourself clench convulsively around nothing as he leaves you empty and wanting. He spares it a brief, evaluating glance, and you feel yourself burn as you realise he’s examining how you’ve soaked the toy.

He tosses it to the side, barely even taking the time to switch it off first, then turns his attention back to you. He’s got that same kind of laser-focus he usually only gets out on the field, and you take a moment to feel incredibly grateful that you’re never going to be on the receiving end of that terrifying scrutiny on the battlefield.

It feels like your skin is too tight for your body, every nerve and synapse strained and primed as you wait for him to touch you. But he’s slow about it, as though he just wants to torture you a little bit. 

When he finally reaches out to lay his hands on you, he doesn’t touch where you want him to.

His callous-roughened hands land on your hips, and pull you down the bed towards him. In the same move, he half-climbs up on the mattress, his huge form practically dwarfing you. Your head and shoulders are still cushioned by your pillows, but your legs are splayed open around Ghost where he kneels on your bed.

You glance down, unable to help yourself, unable to resist trying to catch a look at the outline of his erection pressing against his trousers, and oh. Fuck. He’s big. You knew he’d be big, of course, he’s big all over, but Jesus Christ, maybe you’re a little out of your own depth here–

His thick fingers tangle in the hem of your t-shirt, stretching the fabric out. “Take this off.”

You scramble to do as he says, grabbing at your top and pulling it up clumsily. You realise a moment too late that you’re not wearing a bra, but you suppose at this point it hardly matters. You drop your shirt to the side, and try not to feel too horrifically self-conscious beneath the burning hot gaze of the lieutenant.

Though you can’t see Ghost’s face, you can hear the soft exhale he blows out through his nose, just faintly muffled by the fabric of his mask. His eyes are trained on your chest, darting between each of your tits as though he can’t decide which one to settle on. After a long moment, he reaches forward and cups your left tit with one of his enormous hands, thumbing absently at one of your nipples.

It’s silly; Ghost has touched you before. Lots of times. A nudge of the elbow accompanied by a conspiratorial eye roll, a clap to the shoulder, rough hands pulling you to your feet after training or applying white-hot painful pressure to injuries. But this – you’ve never been touched like this before, not by Ghost, not by anyone.

The shaky breath you let out as his big, rough thumb rolls over your firm nipple comes out as a strangled sort of moan that honestly startles you a little. The noise catches his attention, and he snorts.

“Can’t be that sensitive.” He mutters, but then he reaches to thumb at your other nipple as though trying to be sure.

It’s because you’ve never been touched like this by another person before, you tell yourself. Truthfully, you’ve never even touched yourself like this before. You’ve never bothered to play with your own tits; you’ve always just gone straight to breaking out your vibrators. Now, with every brush of Ghost’s scarred fingers over the tight bud of your nipples, you think you must have been crazy to skip over this part of yourself. But then again, there’s no way that your own hands on yourself would elicit the same sharp jolt that shoots from your breasts down your spine.

“Sir–” You breathe, struggling not to squirm where you’re laying. You wonder, somewhat deliriously, if it might be rude to demand your lieutenant stuff his thick fingers into your pussy. You can already tell that they’re going to feel so much better than your own.

Ghost glances up at you, his eyes unreadable as he watches you bite at your lip. God, his little wispy eyelashes are so blond—

“What?” He says, his voice deep enough that you swear you can feel it rumbling through your bones. “Say it.”

“Want to try your fingers.” You breathe before you can second-guess yourself. 

The laugh that rumbles out of Ghost’s chest is low and smoky. It’s probably impossible to miss the way your eyes have been drawn to his hands all evening, so big and corded with veins and muscle and scar tissue. You’ve witnessed those hands crack bones and snap necks and break down doors, and yet you can’t help but wonder desperately what they’re going to feel like when he starts touching you properly.

He adjusts himself on the bed; he’s a big man, hulking and huge as he kneels on your mattress, his weight causing it to dip. His palms wrap around your ankles with ease, and he hauls you into place with a grim efficiency that goes straight to your pussy.

“Big brute.” You say, a little breathlessly.

He ignores you, using his arms to hold your legs open and wide for him. And all you can do is just lie there as he stares, because goddamn it’s like he’s been carved from steel and you can’t break out of his grip. Not that you want to break out of his grip anyway, but you’d really appreciate it if he actually got moving instead of just staring.

“Fuck,” He grunts after a moment, with the air of talking to himself. “Been hiding this all this time, huh?”

“Jesus.” You breathe in response, subconsciously letting your legs drop open even more.

He makes a low noise of appreciation, and finally reaches out to touch you properly. One thick thumb swipes through the seam of your cunt, and you feel the way he’s smearing the clear sticky wetness that’s been leaking steadily out of you. With his now slick thumb, he drags up towards your clit and circles it with agonisingly light pressure.

You let out an embarrassing choked whine, your toes curling at the sensation. Somewhat ironically, Ghost is handling you far more gently than you usually touch yourself, and you find yourself flexing your hips in an attempt to get him to touch you with more pressure. He ignores your attempts, keeping his pace implacably steady and slow.

“D’you always get this wet?”

You can’t even tell if he’s asking you mockingly or if he’s being genuinely curious; it feels like every inch of your focus has narrowed down to the feel of his big thumb rolling those tight little circles around your clit, his touch scorching against you.

It’s not exactly surprising that Ghost is good with his hands. You’ve seen the way he handles weaponry, locking and loading and aiming to fire with the kind of swiftness that comes from muscle memory, working with unwavering speed and precision. He’s the same in hand-to-hand combat, moving with aggressive fluidity that overwhelms his opponents. You’ve caught hits from him before in training, and you know from experience that a punch from those big hands feels like getting hit by a cinder block.

But even knowing how deft and skilled his hands are, it knocks the breath out of you when he slides his middle and ring fingers inside of you, still rubbing steadily at the swollen bump of your clit. 

When you exhale, it accidentally comes out as a moan. Your cheeks burn, but there’s really no space in your brain right now for embarrassment to sink in. Two of Ghost’s fingers are the equivalent of at least three and a half of yours, and you feel yourself break out into an overwhelmed sweat when they twist and rub against the sensitive squishy spot in the front wall of your cunt.

You’re so damn worked up, your arousal coiled like a knot in your lower belly from your failed attempts to get yourself off all day. Your back curves, humping yourself near mindlessly back up into his hand as he plays you like a goddamn instrument.

You barely even have time to consider how unfair it is that Ghost is so good at playing with you like this when he doesn’t even have a pussy himself, because then he pulls his fingers out of you.

“Oh, no, don’t stop–” You start to protest breathlessly, your chest still heaving, but the quick glance the lieutenant sends you has you falling silent.

Ghost glances down at his fingers. They’re all glossy from fingering you, and he takes a moment to eye up the way they glisten in the dim light of your bunk. You might have felt self-conscious about it, if you couldn’t see the unmistakable gleam of hungry interest in Ghost’s dark brown eyes.

He wipes his hand on the crease of your hip, but you don’t even get the chance to protest before he reaches up to hook his fingers into his mask. You go still, holding your breath in surprise as he pulls the material up until it bunches up around the bridge of his nose.

And that’s– well. You’ve seen his jaw before, and his mouth (Jesus, you had seen it earlier that evening, when he had been sipping on his smooth whiskey of choice), but the sight of his strong jawline and blond stubble and corded scars on his pale skin always manages to knock the breath out of you. And this time, he’s rolled his mask up even further than before, revealing a nose that’s clearly been broken at least once before.

You probably shouldn’t stare so blatantly, especially knowing that Ghost always takes such pains to keep his face covered. You’re not even sure if the other guys on the team have seen his uncovered face, except for Price, and you know that they’ve developed a habit of averting their eyes when he pulls his mask up for whatever reason. It’s a habit that you never quite managed to develop yourself; you’re never able to stop yourself from gaping at him like a moron, drinking in all of the minutest details. He’s never said a thing about your penchant for staring, so you can only hope that he’s chosen to ignore it.

You’re so busy staring that it takes you by surprise when he grips your jaw with one massive hand and pulls you into a rough kiss.

The sound you make is small and startled, but it’s swallowed by Ghost’s demanding mouth. His lips are dry and a little chapped, but they feel scorching hot against yours. You reach up to grab at his arms – mostly just to ground yourself – but you find yourself almost immediately distracted by the firm bulge of his biceps beneath your hands.

Listen, you’ve kissed people before, plenty times. You’re in your early twenties, and just because you’re inexperienced sexually it doesn’t mean that you’re inexperienced full stop. But this, right now, kissing with Ghost, makes you feel as though you’ve been doing nothing but fumbling your way through all of those encounters, like you’ve been kissing wrong all this time.

It’s slow and deep, at first. All-consuming. It lights a fire in your gut, which expands and spreads throughout your body until you find your fingers grasping desperately at the short cotton sleeves of Ghost’s t-shirt where it’s stretched over his thickly muscled arm.

Ghost doesn’t just kiss with his mouth, either. It’s like a full-body experience with him; he puts his hands, his whole damn body into the kiss. He clutches you to him, holding you close even as the force of his kiss bends you backwards into the pillows beneath you. At the same time, it’s all you can do to concentrate and respond to the kiss itself, your attention stretched and strained by the feeling of Ghost’s hands running over you, stroking you sides and squeezing at your breasts and groping at the soft flesh of your hips and ass. 

 “Hah,” You gasp out when Ghost’s lips slide sideways to find the corner of your jaw. His mouth is hot against your skin, bruising, and you feel yourself grow embarrassingly wetter, just from a little kissing.

“You good?” Ghost grunts into your throat as he nips at the base of your jaw.

“Uh huh.” You manage to get out, still clutching at his meaty arms like they’re a lifeline. “So good.”

His breath is hot on your throat when he rumbles out a deep chuckle, and then his tongue flicks out against your earlobe. It makes you forget how to breathe for a second, and you’re distracted when Ghost’s hand changes course, easing beneath your legs so he can press his fingers against your clit again.

Then he pauses, and his fingers slide lower, lazily hooking back and inside you. You tremble, horny and humiliated as you realise that your arousal is glistening all over your damn thighs, impossible to miss.

“Fuck,” Ghost mutters. “All this for me, sweetheart?”

“Hnng,” You whimper like an idiot as his fingers return to your clit, now slick and slippery. “I’m just–”

He doesn’t wait for you to explain. Instead, he pulls his fingers out of you again and kisses you hard. The soft breathy noises you make are muffled into his mouth, and you wrap your legs around his waist automatically. He’s built like a damn mountain, your thighs stretched wide to accommodate the bulk of him as he settles against the core of you.

He likes that – he presses in close, and you can feel the hard line of his cock pressing up against you through the roughness of his jeans. You’re so sensitive that the coarseness of the fabric is almost unbearable, but you’re able to ignore it because you’re so distracted by the sensation of his erection because holy fucking shit that can’t really be how big he is.

You gasp, the sound high and breathy, and you try to grind against Ghost, but it’s impossible because he’s so fucking heavy and he’s pinning you down on the mattress beneath him. Instead, all you can do is squeeze your legs and pull Ghost in even tighter, increasing the pressure between the two of you.

“I’m gonna ruin you,” Ghost whispers, and it sounds like a promise. He drags his lips up your throat, then talks against the corner of your mouth. “You won’t be able to touch yourself again without wishing it was me.”

The wave of desire that rocks through you almost pulls you under, and you swear you might have actually gotten so horny that you blacked out for a second, because from one second to the next Ghost has somehow managed to muscle his way back down between your thighs so that he’s eye-level with your cunt.

“What are you–” You start to say, but then he loops his forearms under your knees to tug your legs wider, and you realise just how close his face is to your pussy. You swear you’re actually pulsing with arousal, and you wonder a little wildly if he can see that.

“Oh, fuck, yes — please,” You blurt out, before Ghost has even gotten his mouth on you. He chuckles, low and amused. His grin looks predatory, but in this moment you really don’t mind being the prey — not if it means you’ll be devoured by that mouth.

Then Ghost’s mouth is against you, wet and burning hot. You cry out, barely noticing as Ghost throws one of your legs over his shoulders, spreading you open.

It’s just the right side of overwhelming. Ghost’s mouth feels like it’s going to swallow you whole – his tongue is huge and flat and firm as he licks over your clit, making your thighs quake on either side of his head. It’s entirely unlike any of the fumbling masturbatory attempts you’ve ever made – you always enjoy messing around with your various little sex toys, but you’re swiftly beginning to realise that it could never compare to real human contact. Or at least, contact with Ghost.

His hands move from your waist to your asscheeks, his big palms squeezing the plump flesh there before using his grip to pull your body closer so that he can bury his whole face between your legs. The rougher material of his mask presses harshly into the sensitive skin of your inner thighs, but you hardly even notice it.

Your pussy has never been this wet before; it feels like you’ve sprung a goddamn leak. You might have felt embarrassed about it if it weren’t for the way Ghost groans against you, his wide tongue laving flat and rough against the seam of your cunt as he practically gulps down all the sticky arousal you have to give him.

“Oh god– fuck! Sir…” You sigh, spreading your knees farther apart so that Ghost can wedge his head further between your thighs.

Your ears burn as your room is filled with sounds of him tonguing at your cunt, the lewd wet squish of him working you over until you’re keening, your hips twitching clumsily until his hands tighten where he’s gripping the plump flesh of your ass to keep you still. Then all you can do is twitch as he licks over your clit in repetitive lapping motions, working in circles and then dipping down to shove his searingly hot tongue inside you. You can feel his teeth press against your labia even as he sucks at your clit, and the sensation sends hot bolts of pleasure rocketing down your spine.

Though you don’t mean to, you’re pretty sure that you make his job harder. You can’t stop wriggling, tossing your head back against your pillows and squirming on Ghost’s tongue in a wild overstimulated dance, like a fish caught in a net.

Finally, Ghost seems to have enough of your unco-ordinated flailing attempts to grind against his face. He reaches around your thigh with one arm to reach your clit so he can keep it stimulated as he gulps at the sticky sweetness of your cunt like a man possessed – the action also works to keep your hips pinned down and still. You stop your frantic moving, but your spasms and sounds increase tenfold.

You can hardly believe it, but you feel something coming. A sweet, torturous build up starts in your belly, and you sweat and gasp as he licks and suckles at you relentlessly. You’ve never found yourself in this state so quickly before, with your legs trembling and your breathing heavy and shaky. 

“Oh.. oh…” You breathe, beginning to arch your back.

You know this feeling – this is where that sweet climax builds and builds, only to dissipate at the last agonisingly close moment. But this time, with Ghost’s big head between your thighs as his mouth moves against you, sucking, tasting, eating up everything you have to offer, the breath-taking pleasure doesn’t show any sign of slipping out of reach. It feels like for once you might actually reach that peak.

But then, right as you’re certain that you’re about to tip over that long-awaited coveted release, the bastard pulls away.

“No!” You practically shriek, attempting to sit up. “No, I was so close–!”

“Lie back.” Ghost orders, his voice like the crack of a whip. 

You drop back obediently before you can even register that you’re moving, so conditioned to react instantly to that tone of voice coming from Ghost’s deep rumbling baritone. Your eyes are wide and betrayed as you stare at him, admittedly a little baleful.

God, but it’s hard to stay annoyed when he’s staring up at you from between your legs like that. His eyes are dark and hungry beneath the mask, and since it’s all pushed up and rumpled around his nose you get a toe-curlingly good look at his lower face. His chin is wet and smeared with your slick, and his lips are plump and pink and swollen from all the kissing and suckling he’s done to you. In a moment of near-delirium, you think that you understand now why he covers his face – his mouth is pretty in a way that shocks you, in a way that needs to be hidden for decency’s sake.

“You’re gettin’ greedy,” He grunts, turning his head and sinking his teeth into the crease of your thigh just to make you yelp. “Wait for it, love. It’ll be worth the wait.”

You don’t think you have much of a choice, so all you can do is lay back and hold on for the ride. He presses his mouth to you again, and you whimper softly as he tongues at your clit. 

“No one’s ever eaten you out like this?” He asks, the words muffled into the damp curve of your thigh. It’s stupid, because you know he knows the answer to that is a resounding no, but it seems like he just wants to hear you say it out loud.

“No.” You say, your breaths sawing their way out of your chest.

“Hnn.” He makes some kind of grunting sound against you, his tongue flicking out to taste you again. “That’s why you’ve been so tense, huh? So fuckin’ desperate for someone to touch you?”

“That’s not– ‘m not tense,” You manage to get out, your breasts heaving as your thighs tense up where they’re thrown over his shoulders. “Maybe.. Maybe you’re too relaxed.”

Ghost huffs a hot little laugh at your hip because you both know that couldn’t be further from the truth. You doubt anyone has ever accused Ghost of being too relaxed before, but you don’t have time to feel stupid for it – not when Ghost is devoting the full force of his attention on you, deep breaths huffing against the wet skin of your pussy and making you shudder.

“That’s it,” He croons, his voice uncharacteristically soft and lilting. The rumble of it ripples through your limbs like lapping waves, his battle-roughened palm stroking and smoothing down your ass and thigh as he hauls you closer. “Relax, sweetheart. Fuck, such a pretty pussy. Fuckin’ criminal of you to keep this hidden away all to yourself.” And then, quieter, “Fuckin’ Christ, you’re wet.”

You’re not even sure that he’s talking to you. It seems more as though he’s talking to himself, and it just happens to be you he’s talking about. Your cheeks burn as the feeling of vulnerability sets in, but you keep your legs spread wide as he kisses your clit with his swollen pink lips. You want so badly to be good, for him to be pleased with you, that you push past your embarrassment as best you can.

There’s a budding anxiety in your belly that Ghost is wasting his time here. As much as you crave his touch and the build up, you worry that he’s going to get frustrated with you and your inability to actually orgasm.

But Ghost doesn’t seem to be in a rush. He seems perfectly fucking happy between your legs, and even with his mask all clumsily rucked up around his nose he presses his face into your pussy with his eyes heavy-lidded and hazy. Even when you shift a little in an effort to get him to go a little harder or faster, he just pins you still and continues at his own leisurely pace.

When he reintroduces his fingers, pressing inside and stretching you out with a light sting, you hiss and try to lift your hips again. His rough calloused knuckles brush against the inside of your soft inner thighs, making them quiver as he goes three fingers deep.

“Shhh, atta girl.” He mumbles into you, his words coming out wetly muffled since he doesn’t even both pulling his face back. “Fuckin’– shit, so good.”

The praise shoots liquid and molten through you, and you have to bite back a pathetic keen as you pulse around his fingers. You’re sure he must feel it, because he lets out an answering rumble and laps against your clit, then closes his lips and sucks.

“Oh god–”

“Shhh.” Ghost scoots forward so your knee can hoist over his shoulder. Then he angles his chin to kiss the skin on the inside curve of your knee as he pumps into you with slow, slippery fingers and ungodly squelching noises that only sparks you hotter. You can’t even tell if it’s sweat or tears dotting your face anymore.

Though Ghost’s eyes are heavy-lidded and a little fogged over, he hasn’t looked away from you once. The focused intensity of his gaze spears you through, because you’ve never been looked at like that. No one has ever seen you like this, no one has ever put effort into you like this, no one has ever been so determined to please you before. You don’t know how you’re ever going to recover from this; you have a terrifyingly distinct impression that he’s going to live up to his promise to ruin you for anyone else.

It feels as though your blood is boiling beneath your skin, and you nearly sob when Ghost pulls back. You’ve never been so close, and you want to scream when he takes his gorgeous fucking mouth away from your clit.

“Fuck.” You wet your lips, realising you were panting like a dog and your mouth is bone dry. “Fuck, Ghost, just—”

“Quiet, lovie.” His reply is hoarse and firm, his throat working hard to swallow as he peered down between you, his clever thumb delving slick circles over the taut bump of your clit, his other three fingers fucking with easy rhythm and purpose. It’s maddening, it’s infuriating, it makes you feel as though you’re about to break apart.

His fingers are pulled out, and then you feel firm pressure pressing into you yet again. Your head lolls as you attempt to sit up, your eyelids fluttering as you realise that he’s pressing your stupid dildo into you again.

“Oh, you bastard–” You start to complain, but Ghost doesn’t give you the opportunity to speak properly.

The dildo slides into you so easily, your sticky slick mixing with his spit making the slide almost effortless. You sigh, a build-up of pressure making your whole body feel as though you’ve been stretched out and pulled tight. 

Now that you’ve been pushed to the edge, you linger by it. Ghost keeps you on that edge for what feels like hours, until your breaths are burning in your chest and the ligaments in your calves are screaming from all the straining you’ve been doing. Every roll of Ghost’s thumb over your clit sends sparks racing through your nerves, and your breathing is harsh and uneven as Ghost starts fucking you with the stupid vibrating dildo. The rhythm he sets is firm and unrelenting, pushing the silicone toy in and out and visibly relishing the wet squish of your cunt as it takes it deep.

Ghost huffs against the wet skin of your inner thigh, making you shudder. It seems like he’s enjoying this as much as you are, judging by the subtle roll of his hips against your mattress as he absorbs himself in fucking you with the dildo. 

He experiments with the angle, adjusting the dildo until you cry out, jerking against the bedding, and whining “There!”. You needn’t bother telling him, though; Ghost has a sharp eye, and he’s so goddamn attentive. He’s already repeating the stroke, pushing the dildo in and bumping it against the same sensitive spot he had hit before.

It feels good, but it’s not enough. Now that you’ve felt the firm hot pressure of his fingers spreading you wide and the wet hunger of his mouth devouring you, you don’t think anything else will do.

He shifts, you catch the rolls of his hips against your mattress again, and you feel as though you’ve caught fire. You think of the glimpse you had caught of his hard cock, pressing against his jeans and making the fabric stretch taut, and you find yourself speaking without thinking.

Ghost pushes the dildo in once more, and you reach down to grab at his wrist as you ask breathlessly, “Can I try yours?”

He pauses; goes so still that it’s honestly uncanny, his eyes practically boring holes into you as he stares at your face. You grow flustered, your own eyes widening in response to your own words. Just because he’s deigning to touch you with his fingers and his mouth, doesn’t mean he’s actually planning to fuck you. Jesus, he’s your fucking superior officer. What were you thinking?

“I’m sorry,” You squeak. “That wasn’t appropriate. Fuck, forget I said that–”

Even beneath the mask, you can see the bob of Ghost’s Adam's apple as he swallows thickly.

“You sure?” He interrupts your rambling before you can get started. “I don’t... ‘m not good with virgins.”

There’s… there’s so much you could say in response to that. Namely, he certainly doesn’t seem like he’s bad with virgins, as evidenced by the throb of arousal still pulsing through your soaked cunt. He’s just had you sobbing at the mercy of his fingers and mouth, and all he has to say when you ask for more is that he’s not good with virgins?

Instead, what you say is a rather lame, “I’m not technically a virgin.”

Which is true. Sort of. Based on a technicality – you had bullied your damn vibrator through your stupid hymen years ago, and you’ve always thought the idea of virginity was a stupid one, anyway. 

“Plastic cocks don’t count, darlin’.”

Blood rushes to your face so fast you feel light-headed as humiliation burns through you. Jesus, okay. That’s just mortifying. 

“Oh, you think your cock is special, then?” You scoff, attempting nonchalance.

Ghost shifts, letting your legs drop from his shoulders, and kneels up on the mattress so that he’s looming over you. Fuck, every time you get a visceral reminder of how big he is, you feel a little faint. It’s like having a veritable wall of muscle caging you into your bed. Your thighs are spread wide to accommodate the size of him, and you find yourself absolutely captivated by the sight of him with his muscles straining against that stupid tight t-shirt, still panting lightly from his greedy gorging on your cunt.

He reaches out and drags a hand slowly from your cunt up over your belly, between your breasts, up over your sternum, to rest over your collarbones. It’s gentle – he doesn’t put an iota of pressure against your throat – but all you can fucking see is the swell of his bicep and the dark ink of his tattoo and the prominent veins running down the chiselled muscle of his forearm.

Good fucking lord.

“You’ll find out.” He says.

And oh. Okay then. Yeah, you sure fucking will.

He reaches down and unbuttons his jeans, and you can’t help but strain to try and watch. He pushes them down carelessly around his thighs, but doesn’t make any move to strip them off any further. You’re suddenly aware of the fact that you’re laying on the bed completely nude and exposed, while Ghost has only pushed his jeans down far enough to pull his cock out, but you don’t have any time to feel self-conscious about it.

His cock curves up against his belly, red and twitching. He’s fucking rock hard, and bigger than you had been expecting, bigger than any of your stupid little toys. Your mouth goes dry, and your eyes widen comically. Fuck. No wonder he’s confident. He’s not lacking in any way.

“D’you’ve a johnny?” He asks, one big paw of a hand taking his cock and stroking lazily at it until a bead of pearly precum oozes from the angry red head.

You’re distracted for a moment, staring at the way he fists his cock, before you blink back to yourself. “What?”

“A condom.” He enunciates slowly, as though speaking to someone he thinks is a bit thick.

“I know what you meant,” You snap, embarrassed. “But– no. Why would I? I’ve never…”

You can see the way his eyes crease and realise that he’s frowning beneath the mask, and you’re hit with a sudden bolt of panic – is he going to change his mind now? You can see the hesitation in the lines of his shoulders, but you think if he changes his mind about fucking you, you might just die.

“It doesn’t matter,” You blurt, “You don’t need one. I’m on the pill. I’m clean.”

Ghost cocks his head, but remains still. It’s almost unnerving, and you feel your toes curl into the bedsheets as you wait for an answer. He looks fucking predatory, hulking over you like a fucking behemoth as he watches you assessingly. You try your best to look confident, but you have a feeling that you just look desperately hungry.

He reaches up and hooks his fingers into the fabric of his mask and pulls it back down to cover his still slick-shiny mouth and jaw, and you’re gripped with sudden overwhelming panic and dismay that he’s changed his mind, that he’s about to leave you here wet and empty and wanting. In that moment, you throw your dignity into the wind.

“Please,” You beg pathetically, wriggling a little bit against your sweat-damp bedding in an effort to grind yourself against him. “Please, please, it’s fine, I swear, you don’t need one–”

“Fuckin’ hell.” Ghost grinds out, his voice rough and a little hoarse. “How can a virgin be such a fuckin’ slut?”

Some part of you wonders if you should be offended by that, but instead a frisson of heat runs down your spine. You know you’re not a slut – you’ve never searched for any sexual attention, and you’ve never even experienced someone else’s touch – but goddamn you want to be a slut for your lieutenant right now.

Despite his harsh words, when Ghost hooks your legs over his hips and aligns himself with you, he’s gentle. He’s acting like you’re something fragile; he’s so big that your legs are spread wide around his waist, his shoulders so broad that he’s blocking out the dim light from your lamp, and yet his touch is light against you as though he’s afraid to break you.

He’s still gripping his cock hard, and he slides the tip of it against your slick heat. You have a brief moment of alarm; even through the haze of arousal, you can recognise that this is going to be a tight fit. You breathe deeply, then begin to wiggle your hips in an effort to take him inside you.

He hisses, then one of his big hands grabs at your hip. “Fuck, stay still.”

“Put it in.” You beg, your voice coming out thick and stupid-sounding. “Fuck, please, c’mon, c’mon–”

“Kid,” Ghost bites out through clenched teeth, his voice low and gritty. “Need you to shut the fuck up for me.”

You manage to bite down on your lip, but you can’t stop yourself from pouting mopily at him with wide, wet eyes. You don’t understand why he’s making you wait – can’t he see how mean he’s being? You’re so fucking wet, so empty as you clench down on nothing, and your clit is so desperate for any kind of stimulation that it’s throbbing needily. The head of his cock catches at your opening, dipping in for a second before resuming its maddening slide up and down.

Ghost is still watching you closely, his brown eyes flickering from where the head of his cock drags through your sodden folds up to your pleading pouting expression. You can only imagine what kind of a sight you make, because his chest growls with a choked sort of groan.

“I know,” He murmurs, almost mockingly soft with you. “I know, you want it. Gotta give it to you slowly.”

You want to tell him that he doesn’t have to give it to you slowly, that he can go as fast and hard as he wants to, but some sense of self-preservation shuts you up. Instead, you nod clumsily as he rubs his cock over the slick folds of your cunt, lubing himself up with your own arousal. The feeling of his cock dragging over you, iron hard and velvety soft, so close to where you want it, is enough to have your head spinning dizzily.

You want to beg again, but you’re still trying to follow his order to be silent. You shift restlessly, biting back a whimper when he taps his cock thoughtfully against your clit.

Finally, he decides to put you out of your misery. 

The thick crown of his cock pushes against the tight ring of muscle at the entrance of your cunt, and the gasp you let out is positively punched out of you. He goes slow, just like he promised, but you can still hardly believe it. He goes in and in and in, and yet he’s somehow not even halfway inside. 

“Fuck,” You wheeze, punctuated by a strange little yowl. “Oh god, wait–”

You feel stuffed just from the first few inches, drunk already on the quiet little grunts he’s making. The stretch and the sting and the pressure inside you is glorious, so tight that you can barely even flex around him and you can’t even decide if it’s good or if it’s too much. Your eyes are hot and wet as overwhelmed tears begin to overflow, and you find yourself arching in a weak attempt to flex away from him and the devastating stretch.

God, he’s massive. You knew he would be, of course, but his size seems so much more significant when you’re being impaled on the end of his cock. Fuck, you can feel your vision go blurry as your eyes fill with overwhelmed tears. You’re mortified when a sob is ripped from your chest, harsh and thick.

“Shh, shh.” Ghost coos, his deep voice syrupy thick as he leans over you, the enormous bulk of him caging you into the mattress until your whole world consists only of him. “Just a little bit more.”

“Fuck,” You choke out, trying to arch away again but failing because he’s so big that there’s nowhere to go. “It’s not gonna fit!”

“Shh, lovie,” He rumbles, ducking his face down so that the rough cotton of his mask is pressed against the sweaty skin of your neck. “Relax’n let me in.”

“I– ‘m trying–” You whine, clutching at his biceps. “Jesus–”

You blink your eyes open, vision blurry from the tears clumping your lashes together, only to be met with the sight of Ghost’s deep brown eyes staring at you from beneath the black mask. He’s looming above you, his gaze made all the more intense by the fact that it’s the only part of his face you can really see.

“All that messin’ around with those plastic cocks, but you’re still this tight for me,” He says, his voice so deep that you feel it reverberate into your bones. “Deep breath.”

The breath you inhale at his instruction is rough and ragged, and he snorts a low breathless laugh in response.

When he finally drives his cock all the way in with one smooth stroke, all the breath is driven from your lungs. It feels as though his cock has been pressed all the way up into your chest, and the noise you make when you squirm on it is utterly pathetic. 

Ghost’s hands are like steel clamps when they close around the plump flesh of your thighs, holding them up and pressing them back until they’re pressed against your belly. He looms over you, still almost entirely clothed as sweat beads over his thickly muscled neck. It’s like getting pinned down by a mountain, and you whimper as you’re speared open and prone by the weight of Ghost pressing down upon you.

He hasn’t even started to move yet, but you still feel overfull and raw.

“Too big,” You mumble, struggling to catch your breath. You choke on a sob and feel your eyes burn with unshed tears as your back arches. “Ghost–!”

“Shh.” He grunts. “Call me Simon when I fuck you.”

That… that does something to you. Molten heat rockets up your spine and pools in your belly, and you swear your pussy floods. It’s stupid, how being granted permission to call your lieutenant by his first name is somehow so much hotter than anything else he’s done so far.

“Simon,” You try it out. It comes out a little shaky, your voice little more than a weak whisper, but you swear you can see his eyes sharpen. 

Apparently having come to the decision that you’ve adjusted enough, Ghost pulls his hips back only to drive back in. 

“Oh!” You yelp, hips jumping, but there’s nowhere to go. 

All you can do is lie there as he slides out, out, out, slow and careful and long, and then his hips snap forward and he impales you, pressing all the way into him. He does it again, and again, and you try to bite down on your tongue, try to not sound so pathetically wrecked, but you can’t. It’s like Ghost is puncturing your lungs and every time he fucks into you, you let out the most pathetic little mewling ah ah ah sounds.

You’re not quite prepared for how different this feels; it’s nothing like your stupid plastic dildo. Ghost’s cock is bigger, but it’s also hotter and with more give than you expected, and you’ve never been able to fuck yourself like this. Your plastic toys could never compare to the sensation of being pinned by your giant of a lieutenant as he ruts into you.

Ghost reaches up and roughly pushes his mask up so his mouth is exposed again before he leans in deeper, almost folding you cleanly in half, stretching in to claim your mouth in a kiss that’s not quite a kiss, but rather a fierce mash of lips and tongue as his rhythm picks up, riding you down into the mattress until you realised the screaming noise isn’t coming from either one of you, but the cheap standard issue bed frame.

All you can do is gasp with each deep, raw fuck. There are tears tracking lazily down your cheeks, having overflowed from your burning eyes, and you honestly think your lungs might collapse. You’re bent like a fucking pretzel, in a way that’s making the muscles in your thighs scream, as Ghost pounds into you. 

He’s fucking relentless, but also shockingly aware of you beneath him. He doesn’t put too much pressure on you when he holds you, he never goes hard enough to hurt, and he knows just the right amount of weight to pin you down without being too much.

Your pussy is sloppy around him, wet squishing noises getting louder and louder as he finds more rhythm against your tight walls. Your whole world of awareness has been narrowed down to Ghost and Ghost only; his fingers digging into your thighs, your name in his mouth, his sweltering body pressing against yours. 

He’s holding back, you can tell by the way his voice is caught in his throat. He’s keeping all his dangerous muscles at bay as he pulls out and presses in again. Rough, fast, but not enough to break you, just enough to make you scream until you bury your face to the side and try to cover your mouth with your arm.

“Yeah, you needed this,” Ghost grunts, his uncovered mouth nipping at the hinge of your jaw. “This’s why you were so fuckin’ distracted earlier, hm? You thinkin’ about how much you needed to cream around a real cock?”

“Uh huh, yeah,” You slur out, not even sure what you’re agreeing with. Your tongue feels too big for your mouth, every nerve in your body raw and sparking. You must sound so pathetic, but Ghost seems to like it.

“Ain’t gonna be distracted anymore, are ya?” He rumbles, laving his tongue over your jaw in a way that feels filthy. “Just needed your little pussy filled, that’s all.”

You cry out for him because you can’t help it, delight bubbling in your throat every time he plunges into you. He keeps his pace for a bit, all rushed and blazing, transfixed on watching you suck him in, leaving slick trails along his shaft. But gradually he gets bolder, more desperate, big hands squeezing from your thighs to your hips.

You get lost in the feeling of him in your belly, searing and harsh, fat tip rolling against the spongy spot inside of you until you feel like you might snap. You feel him in your ears, your head pounding with every snap of his hips. You swear you even feel him in your toes, lightning zaps of pleasure down your nerves.

Then he leans back, lifting his weight off of you so you can breathe properly. He leaves his hand on your collarbones like a placeholder, his palm spread over the base of your throat like a reminder, a way to keep your attention on him. 

“Fuck,” He grits out, “That’s it, doll.”

You’re vaguely aware of the fact that Ghost’s gaze has shifted, no longer focused on your face but now instead fixed firmly between your legs as he watches the thick shaft of his cock sink into you. He obviously likes how you feel inside; you can hear him cursing and grunting quietly as his free hand grips your hip for leverage. 

With his mask rumpled up around his nose, you’re gifted with an incredible view of the way his teeth are sunk into his lower lip. Each time he sinks his cock into you again, he makes a raspy little groan, eyes fluttering briefly shut. It’s so painfully endearing that your heart quivers in your chest.

Your legs burn from being spread around his thick waist — any attempt for you to lock them around his back is useless, your legs slipping everytime his ass flexes with his thrusts. Every hasty drive of his hips has the ridge of his cock sliding against the spongy spread of your walls, making you feel more stuffed every time he ruts into you. With every sudden movement you feel the entirety of his fat cock; the veins are throbbing, skin heated and silken within you. Part of you marvels how you’re even able to fit him inside you.

“Never seen you look like this,” he grunts. “All fucked-out and perfect.”

Ghost leans in again, grips your legs so he can rearrange them over his shoulders, and you think you might die. The angle is different and somehow, impossibly, Ghost is fucking into you even deeper. You think you might actually be crying. There’s no question as to whether you’re drooling.

Your hands move to his arms, nails sinking into the hard muscles of his triceps as you cling on for dear life. He doesn’t even seem to notice the sting of your nails scratching him; or perhaps it only urges him on, because his movements take on an edge of desperation.

“Gorgeous girl,” He grits out, jaw clenched. “Squeezin’ so tight. Fuck. Gonna make you cream.”

 You had forgotten about his promise to make you come, too lost in the hazy pleasure of his cock. But now it seems as though he’s been seized by the compulsion to fuck you to the edge; he reaches a hand down so that his thumb can join the fray, and it startles you into moaning breathlessly aloud. 

His thumb is merciless against your clit. You’re vulnerable to his touch, clit spread and on display from the stretch of his thick cock inside of you, and he takes full advantage. His fingers are thick and blistering hot as he rubs at you, and you choke as your toes curl.

“Simon–” You manage to eke out before you lose the weak thread of your thoughts, scattering into nothing as he stimulates the stiff bead of your clit. 

He grunts to show that he’s heard you, but he doesn’t seem any more capable of words than you are as he rocks into the cradle of your hips. You’re practically blinded by your wet eyes, blinking frantically to try and clear your vision as you reach out clumsily to throw your arms around Ghost’s blisteringly hot neck.

It feels as though your skin is stretched too tight over your body, hot and prickly and too much. You’re trembling, your breaths coming in shaky gasps as agonising pressure builds in your lower belly. 

“Fuck, love.” Ghost says, his voice little more than a snarl. “You gonna come?”

No, You think hazily. No, you never come. But even as you think it, part of you recognises that it’s never felt like this before. Your stomach tightens, toes curling, your lungs burning, your eyes rolling. You hardly even know what’s happening.

You recognise that something is building, but it almost seems secondary to the way that Ghost is rutting into you like a man possessed, hitting that spongey spot in the back of your pussy that you’ve never managed to reach yourself and making your legs spasm every time even as his thick thumb rubs frantic circles around the bump of your clit.

“Fuck, fuck–” You wheeze, bucking your hips against him.

It doesn’t grow and dissipate in the way you’re used to. Rather, it creeps up on you almost without you noticing, until you’re whimpering and clinging to Ghost like he’s a lifeline. Your bottom lip trembles as you sob weakly, practically on the brink of diving into an oncoming tidal wave of desire. Then that coil in your stomach snaps like a rubber band, sudden and sharp as a slap to the face. 

Your back arches, your vision whites out, and you cum so hard that the world stops, your ears ring, your body goes limp. Your cunts sucks tight around him, pulsing, feeling every inch of him. It feels so sweet, that white-hot buzzing pleasure rushing over you and wiping your brain completely clean. 

You’re a little delirious from being stuffed with such a fat cock; every thrust just prolongs your pleasure, like his penetration keeps you from squeezing your very first orgasm out right away. It’s mindless ecstasy, your nails burrowing into the skin of his biceps as you desperately clutch at him for some kind of leverage. Ghost doesn’t falter, his hips continuing to work into you, wringing your orgasm out until you feel as though your brain is melting.

You sob – an actual, genuine, wet-sounding sob as your chest heaves for air and your eyes burn with overwhelmed, rapturous tears. Your head is spinning even as your climax subsides, leaving you limp-limbed and weak as Ghost continues rocking into you.

“Look so lovely when you come, sweetheart,” Ghost grunts into your ear, his bulky chest weighing you down as you clutch feebly at his shoulders. “God, that’s a sight. All for me, yeah?”

His praise only makes it worse, makes your eyes sting until there’s tears down your cheeks and stars behind your eyelids. He sounds so smug, but you can’t deny that he has reason to be. He’s the first man to ever touch you, first man to ever fuck you, the first person to ever tip you over the edge and wring an orgasm out of you. Fuck, you think your brain might have been reduced to mush permanently; you wonder wildly if you’ll ever be the same after this.

Despite the sting of Ghost’s punishing thrusts into your already oversensitive cunt, your body sings for him. The rhythm of his hips is getting gradually sloppier, as though he doesn’t care as much for precision now that he’s succeeded in making you come. Soft, guttural little grunts fall from his mouth, and his arms wrap around your waist to reposition you so that he can fuck quick and shallow. It’s almost tender, as though he’s aware of your growing sensitivity as you mewl under him.

There’s a profound, instinctual pleasure in seeing Ghost lose himself in your embrace. His dark eyes are heavy-lidded and his mask is still all rucked up, revealing the way his mouth is lolled softly open as he pants. You find yourself wishing feverishly that he had taken off his clothes too, because you think you would give anything to watch the roiling muscles of his chest and shoulders as he ruts into you.

Then just when you think you’re beginning to recover from the shattering, mind-numbing oversensitivity, Ghost comes inside of you.

He stops rutting to ride out his orgasm, his cock throbbing, pulsing, spurting inside you until you feel fuller than you’ve ever felt. And he comes a lot. 

You’re stuffed so tightly with his cock that his cum has nowhere to go, and ends up leaking thickly from where your cunt grips around him, messy and hot and spilling over your thighs and his. The sound he makes is breathless, all open-mouth and head lolled back as he groans, blissed out as he finds release in your cunt. 

The minutes afterwards are a blur. 

You close your eyes for what feels like only a second, but the next time you blink your eyes open you find yourself feeling miserably, uncomfortably empty and sticky as all that oozy cum leaks out of you. You somehow missed Ghost pulling out of you, and your thoughts are muzzy and embarrassingly slow.

For a moment, you think you’re alone. You’re becoming more aware of yourself, and you realise that you’re shivering weakly alone in your sweat-damp sheets. Where did Ghost go? Part of you, still a little hazy, wonders if he had left you alone as soon as he had come, and you feel your lower lip tremble at the thought. 

God, you feel pathetic. You shift feebly on the sheets, and suck in a sharp breath when you feel the ache inside you, proof that you’re going to feel the shadow of Ghost’s cock for days. You feel drunk off the afterglow, yet you’re swiftly becoming more and more aware of yourself and all the aches and pains that are coming to the fore now.

It feels like you’re too big for your body, and you’re clumsy when you try to sit up. Pushing yourself up makes a whole new set of aches light up, and you let out a quiet keening grumble.

You’re so caught up with trying to ground yourself that you jolt in surprise when big, paw-like hands land on you, pushing you back down onto the bed. “Shh, hey, lay down.” Ghost says, the rough edges of his accent softened. To your bewilderment, he has a damp cloth in his hand; he went to the bathroom, you realise hazily.

Maybe it’s just because you feel raw after your experience with him, pulsing like an open nerve, but you sniffle and blink and then suddenly there are tears dripping down your face.

“Thought you left.” You mumble, trying not to sound like a needy little idiot.

Ghost glances up at you, unblinkingly. His mask is fixed firmly back in place, and he looks annoyingly put-together; it’s an embarrassingly stark contrast to the way you’re still nude and shivery and teary-eyed.

“No.” He says simply.

The damp cloth is warm when it makes contact with your skin, and you relax as he drags it along your sweaty back and over your legs. He’s a little rough about it, but you don’t think it’s on purpose. Gentleness doesn’t come naturally to Simon Riley, and yet you can feel that he’s trying and that makes a warm glow settle in your stomach, replacing the cold anxiety that had settled in when you thought that he had left you alone.

When the cloth reaches the tender skin of your pussy, you hiss and try to pull away. It all feels too sensitive, and you feel your face crumple up as he wipes away the mess of slick and cum between your thighs. He gentles his touch as much as he can, but you still mewl at the electric zaps of oversensitivity that jolt up your spine.

When Ghost pauses and pulls the cloth away from you, you blink your eyes awake. Your vision is still all wet and blurry from tears, but you can still see the shape of Ghost as he stares down at you. You can imagine you look nothing short of ruined right now, even after having been cleaned up, and Ghost’s stare is burning.

You wonder if he’s about to leave now – you can recognise this whole thing had gotten out of hand, and you just about manage to stifle the panic at the creeping realisation that you’ve just fucked your superior officer. Ghost must have realised at this point that the two of you had just ripped through all those fraternisation rules, though it’s always been difficult to tell what he’s thinking. But you trust him – you have to, in your line of work. You have to trust that he’ll handle things.

Ghost tosses aside the cloth, and his big overbearing body climbs back into bed beside you. It’s a standard-issue bunk, and yet it feels comically tiny when Ghost has been added to the mix. He’s surprisingly agile, even despite his big size, and you barely have time to realise that he’s joining you in bed before he’s wrapped a thick arm around your middle, hauling you closer.

You’d love to act chill and cool about the fact that he’s now essentially cuddling you, but you miss the mark by a long mile. You take a breath, and allow yourself to relax into his big burly chest. He’s still fully clothed, and the rough texture of his jeans against your tender bare skin makes you shiver lightly from oversensitivity.

Your hips are sore from being stretched so wide, your joints weak and watery, and you’re perfectly content to close your eyes and forcibly ignore all your concerns about fraternisation or how you’re going to face Ghost in training. It’s a problem for another time.

“You still alive?” Ghost grunts, and his palm coasts down over your back to settle at your ass, his fingers squeezing absent-mindedly into the soft flesh there.

He sounds amused, which makes you grumble in irritation. He takes up so much space, his big body filling up all the free space on the bed and making you feel so fucking small as he holds you so that your back is pressed against his stomach.

“I dunno,” You mumble, words a little garbled. “Think… think you might have fucked me stupid, Lt.”

Lying like this, with his front pressed against your back, you can feel his laugh rumble into you. He’s touchy too in a way that surprises you; his hands are constantly moving, swiping over your sides and groping at any part of you that’s squishy-soft.

“Think I might have,” He agrees, and you can hear the smirk in his voice even if you can’t see it. “But I think you needed it, sweetheart. You were practically cryin’ out for it all day.”

You feel your face heat at the insinuation that he had noticed the arousal you thought you had hidden so well. But you still feel so fuzzy inside, and you can’t manage to drum up any genuine reaction.

Ghost’s roaming hand slips down between your legs, and you hold your breath as he reaches your swollen, tender pussy. His fingers are so big, but he’s aware of his strength and keeps his touch light, cupping rather than groping, his calloused palm catching on your puffy clit.

“Told you a real cock would be better,” He rumbles, and you feel the soft material of his mask rubbing against the back of your sweaty neck. “You’ve got a fussy little cunt – ‘s only gonna be satisfied by the real thing.”

You’d love to jab back at him, but the feeling of him rough palm against your oversensitive clit has your thoughts fizzing out into nothingness. All you can do is let out a quiet little whimper, and rock your hips into his touch. To your utter bewilderment, you feel your arousal, which you had previously considered entirely sated, pulse back to life.

As if Ghost can feel your cunt throb beneath his hand, he snickers. “Yeah. Fussy and greedy.”

He leans down, and you feel his lips brush against the back of your neck through the cotton of his balaclava. You quiver, and part your legs without conscious thought to give his thick fingers more room to work. Despite your exhaustion, and your soreness, and your sensitivity, you find yourself wanting. You wonder, with an edge of hysteria, if your body has somehow managed to rewire itself to only accept pleasure from your commanding officer’s hand.

“Ghost– Simon–” You breathe, your hips jumping as you grind into his palm.

“Yeah,” He says again, as though he knows exactly what you need and want. “One little orgasm wasn’t enough, was it?”

“No.” You choke out, throwing your head back so that it’s resting against Ghost’s broad chest. “No, ‘t wasn’t.”

You can hardly believe that your body is winding up for more, but Ghost’s touch is searing hot against your tender skin, and you can already taste the pleasure he’s going to bring you. This time, without the edge of urgency, you think you might even enjoy it more.

“Gimme five minutes,” He drawls, his voice low and muffled in your ear. “And I’ll give you your second.”

This is gold!!!!!

PLAYBOY. fic masterlist

❥ mdni. various!jjk x fem!reader.

❥ canon divergence but still takes place in the jjk universe.

"let's fuck on that shiny car!"

IN WHICH itadori yuuji is completely whipped by his upperclassman who just came back from suspension.

OR

IN WHICH gojo satoru's favourite student is a playboy model.

WARNINGS!! slight manga spoilers, hardcore smut, mentions of drugs + alcohol, stalking, obsessive behaviour. all characters are aged up (21+)!!

status: ongoing. also available on ao3 and wattpad.

CHAPTERS:

*ੈ✩‧₊˚ 001: GOLDEN GIRL.

*ੈ✩‧₊˚ 002: PINKY PROMISE.

*ੈ✩‧₊˚ 003: JUICY COUTURE.

*ੈ✩‧₊˚ 004: SUPERMODEL.

*ੈ✩‧₊˚ 005: POLARIS.

*ੈ✩‧₊˚ 006: PRETTY, PRETTIER.

*ੈ✩‧₊˚ 007: ZENIN NAOYA IS A BOTTOM.

*ੈ✩‧₊˚ 008: HEARTBEAT.

*ੈ✩‧₊˚ 009: BILLS, BILLS, BILLS.

*ੈ✩‧₊˚ 010: WHO RUN THE WORLD? GIRLS.

*ੈ✩‧₊˚ 011: STAR MODEL.

*ੈ✩‧₊˚ 012: THIRD TIME’S THE CHARM.

©potassiumivy, 2024. all rights reserved. do not translate / modify / republish my works.

😭😭 this was so cute and needed!!

don't look back in anger — gojo satoru.

“They have no right, my love.” you say, trying to keep your voice steady but failing. “After everything you’ve done, everything you’ve given—how dare they blame you?” Satoru doesn’t look at you, his bright blue eyes half-lidded, fixed somewhere distant. His signature smirk is missing, replaced by an unfamiliar stillness. “It’s not surprising, baby.” he mutters, voice barely above a whisper. “They always need someone to blame. KIlling the higher ups is just a step. The rot still exists from some people’s thinking, you know?”

GENRE: post hidden - inventory arc (2010s)

WARNING/S: spoilers for chapter 269 of jjk, domesticity, fluff, angst, trauma, implied death, violence, romance, hurt/comfort, character death depiction of death, depictions of loss and depression, depiction of blood, depiction of killing, depiction of suffering, depiction of anxiety, mention of death, mention of grief, profanity, family drama;

WORDS: 3k words.

NOTE: i decided to write this really REALLY fast before uni because i can't stop thinking about how angry i am that satoru isn't being mentioned in the latest chapters. and i just needed to let this out. thank you a lot for reading it though!!! i love you all <3

masterlist

u s and t h e m

if you want to, tip! <3

IT’S ONLY BEEN A DAY OR TWO SINCE THE BATTLE. But you hover over your husband so constantly that you can’t help but notice the subtle signs—he’s doing his best to be patient with you.

Satoru’s usually the one with the infinite calm, the one who never loses his cool. But every time you adjust his blanket, offer him water, or check in on how he’s feeling, you catch the slightest flicker of exasperation behind those brilliant blue eyes.

He never says anything, of course. Instead, he smiles at you, that teasing grin of his that you know too well. But you can feel it in the way his gaze lingers just a bit too long, in the way his shoulders tense every time you fuss over him. He’s trying to bear it without complaint—because he knows you’re only worried—but it’s there.

“You’re doing it again,” Satoru finally says, a playful edge to his tone, though you catch the weariness underneath.

You blink, momentarily taken aback. “Doing what?”

He chuckles softly, his voice low. “You know what. Hovering.”

Your lips press together in a thin line, knowing he’s right but not willing to back down. “I just want to make sure you’re okay,” you say, trying to keep the defensiveness out of your voice.

“I’m fine,” he replies, his smile softening. “Really. You don’t have to worry so much.” 

You narrow your eyes at him, unconvinced. “You’re still recovering. Let me worry.”

“I know.” He reaches out, taking your hand in his. “But if you keep this up, you’re going to drive yourself crazy. And me.”

Despite yourself, a small smile tugs at your lips. “You? Crazy? Impossible.”

Satoru laughs, shaking his head. “Even I have my limits, you know.”

You lean back slightly, loosening your grip on him, but not without a lingering glance. “Alright, alright. I’ll try to give you some space. But just a little.”

He smirks, a hint of his usual mischief returning. “Just enough to let me breathe, maybe?”

You roll your eyes, but the tension between you eases, the moment settling into something lighter. Still, you can’t help but keep a watchful eye on him, even as you pull back. It’s in your nature to worry—and Satoru knows it.

The ride home from Jujutsu High is thick with tension, the echoes of the conversations from earlier still gnawing at you. Megumi walks beside you, his silence mirroring your own frustration.

The meeting had been a circus of finger-pointing and thinly veiled accusations, and even though Satoru wasn’t there, his name was dragged through the mud as if he had been. Blame for Yuji, blame for the crumbling system—everyone needed a scapegoat, and as usual, they chose Satoru.

By the time you reach the Gojo manor, you’re seething. You can’t shake the bitterness from the gathering—their condescending tones, the way they talked about Satoru like he was a liability instead of the reason half of them were still alive. As though being the strongest changes the fact that your husband is a breathing human being. 

In the view of the water gardens, it was peaceful. And yet all at once, a storm brewed inside of you. You and Satoru sit together in the quiet, as you have been for the past few days now. But unlike these past few days, the view does not make you feel calm and at peace at all.

Instead, your irritation is palpable, your fingers drumming impatiently on the armrest of the chair. Gojo Satoru lies next to you, still recovering, his usual vibrancy dampened by both physical exhaustion and the heavy burden of blame. The weight of jujutsu society’s accusations presses down on the room, though none of them are here to face him.

Across the room, Fushiguro Megumi stands silently, arms crossed, watching you both. He’s fully aware of the anger simmering just beneath the surface, not just at the accusations, but at the complete disregard for Satoru's sacrifices. If anything, he’s just as angry. But he knew better than to say anything. Especially knowing that you were angry. It was better at that point that someone was focused on remaining calm. Otherwise, it would be hellfire. And there was none needed, just after defeating the King of Curses. 

Yet, you both can’t help but feel how deeply it stings. It was ever so easy for everyone in your  world to just forget everything, to not acknowledge what your Satoru has done, reducing him to the villain, the perpetrator of the entire suffering of the Jujutsu world, just because he refused to follow an unjust order—to execute Yuji Itadori, a child caught in forces far beyond his control. 

Just because he could not stop powerful curses and cursed users from doing things that your husband would not have had any knowledge about. Your husband couldn’t have predicted thousand year old cursed users and their greed would do something like this to your world. How is it your husband’s fault, that the rot had gotten that deep in Jujutsu society either? 

You glance at Satoru’s pale face, his breathing still slightly labored. The hurt in your chest deepens, anger mixing with a fierce protectiveness. How could they not see what he’s gone through, what he continues to endure for the sake of others? All you can think is how none of them truly understand what it means to stand at his side, to witness the toll this cursed world takes on him every single day.

The quiet hum of the room feels suffocating, the weight of your frustration finally spilling over. You turn to Satoru, your voice sharp, but layered with concern. You just can’t help it, when it comes to him. You were always so protective of him, even all those years ago. Because if you would not do it, who would? Who would take his side and give such devotion, as equal as his own? Your husband isn’t the type to explain himself, nor is he someone that would let anyone know what he truly feels. He doesn’t think he has to. He does not care.

“They have no right, my love.” you say, trying to keep your voice steady but failing. “After everything you’ve done, everything you’ve given—how dare they blame you?”

Satoru doesn’t look at you, his bright blue eyes half-lidded, fixed somewhere distant. His signature smirk is missing, replaced by an unfamiliar stillness. “It’s not surprising, baby.” he mutters, voice barely above a whisper. “They always need someone to blame. KIlling the higher ups is just a step. The rot still exists from some people’s thinking, you know?”

“But it shouldn’t be you.” you snap, louder this time. You catch Megumi shifting slightly in his spot, his expression unreadable, though the tension in his stance suggests he’s just as frustrated as you are. “You know you aren’t to blame for their ills.”

“They want things to stay the same, Gen–san.” Megumi finally speaks up, his tone controlled but edged with bitterness. “Blaming Gojo-sensei is easier than facing their own failures.”

You clench your fists. “They forget that he’s human. That you—” Your words choke off. You can’t bring yourself to say it. It feels like admitting too much. “It’s just not right.”

Satoru lets out a breath, a soft chuckle following it. “I don’t care what they think. I did what I believed in. I wasn’t going to kill Yuji. He deserves better than that. And... he’s a kid. Just like ‘gumi. I don’t... I don’t have the heart to... you know what I mean.”

His voice falters slightly at the end, and you catch something in his expression that makes your chest tighten. It's rare for Satoru to let his guard down like this, to even hint at the weight he carries, but you can see it now—just for a second, the flicker of doubt, the exhaustion behind those sharp blue eyes.

“You did the right thing,” you say, your voice softer now, though the anger still simmers beneath. “Yuji’s not a tool to be discarded. He’s just a boy.”

Satoru nods, his gaze distant. “Yeah, a boy thrown into the worst situation imaginable. Just like ‘gumi was. Like Yuta was. I couldn’t... I wouldn’t make him pay for their mistakes. I’ve seen what this world does to people like him.”

There’s a heaviness in his words, the unspoken memories of everything he’s witnessed, everything he’s tried to protect the kids from. You know how much it eats at him—how deeply he cares, even if he hides it behind his usual bravado. And as much as he pretends to shrug it off, the toll is evident in moments like this, when his façade cracks ever so slightly.

You step closer, unable to keep the frustration out of your voice. "And you deserve better than this," you retort quickly, anger flaring in your chest again. "You’ve given them everything, and they give nothing back. They act like you’re just another tool for them to use, like you don’t have a heart. And I’m just so angry….”

Satoru finally turns his head, the faintest glimmer of his usual self creeping into his eyes as he looks at you. “Hey, baby.” he says softly, his voice gentler now. “You know I’m not doing this for their thanks. I’m doing it for the kids, for you. For Satoshi. So we’ll be happy.”

You blink, trying to swallow the anger that lingers. “I know that.” you say quietly. “But I can’t stand watching them tear you apart.”

Megumi walks closer, his arms still crossed, a firm resolve in his expression. “We won’t let them, Gen–san. Don’t worry.”

Satoru chuckles again, the sound a little lighter this time. “You two…huh…” He looks between you and Megumi, his tired eyes softening. “Always so serious. So Zen’in, the two of you. Stop frowning. You’ll end up with wrinkles. Believe me, it’s fine. They’ll come around. And if they don’t—well, it’s not the first time I’ve pissed off people, you know?”

His attempt at humor falls flat, the usual brightness behind his words missing. But the effort doesn’t go unnoticed—it tugs at your heart, a bittersweet reminder of how hard Satoru tries to keep things light, even when the world around him is anything but. You can see it in the subtle shift of his shoulders, the slight downward tilt of his head. He’s tired, more than he’ll ever admit, and though he brushes it off with a smile or a joke, the weight of it all is still there—quiet, invisible, but crushing.

Despite everything—despite the accusations, the blame, the endless expectations placed on him—Satoru is still trying to carry the burden alone. It’s always been like this with him, hasn’t it? He wears his strength like armor, his humor like a shield, always standing tall so no one else has to bear the load. But in moments like this, when his defenses slip just a little, you can see the cracks. And it breaks your heart.

You reach out, your movements slow and deliberate, as if any sudden gesture might make him retreat back into that impenetrable shell of his. Your hand finds his, and you gently intertwine your fingers with his, grounding both of you in the simple connection. He doesn’t pull away; instead, he lets out a soft breath, the tension in his body loosening ever so slightly.

“Satoru,” you whisper, your voice barely above a breath, “you don’t have to carry this alone. You know that, right?”

For a moment, he doesn’t say anything. He just looks at your hands, your fingers laced together, and there’s something raw in his expression—something vulnerable that he usually hides behind that ever-present grin.

“I know,” he finally says, his voice quieter than usual. “But sometimes... it’s hard to let anyone else help. I’m used to being the one who fixes things.”

You squeeze his hand a little tighter, your heart aching at the quiet admission. “You don’t always have to be the one to fix everything. You’ve done more than enough.”

He meets your gaze then, his eyes soft but still carrying the weight of someone who’s been fighting battles far too long on his own. “I’m not so sure about that,” he murmurs, his voice tinged with a rare uncertainty.

You hold his gaze, refusing to let him retreat. “You have. And you don’t have to keep proving yourself, especially not to those people. Let us help you. Let me help you.”

For a moment, Satoru just looks at you, as if he’s weighing your words, letting them sink in. And then, slowly, he nods. It’s small, but it’s a start—a sign that maybe, just maybe, he’ll let you share the weight of the world that’s been pressing down on him for so long.

“They don’t deserve you, my love.” you say, quieter now but no less fierce.

Satoru squeezes your hand lightly, a soft smile finally breaking through the exhaustion on his face. "Maybe not. But you’re stuck with me. Because you deserve me. Like I deserve you."

You hold his hand a little tighter, your gaze softening despite the frustration still simmering beneath the surface. "And I wouldn't have it any other way,my love." you murmur, your voice a little steadier now. Satoru’s warmth is a quiet reassurance, but the sight of him like this—so worn down, so unfairly burdened—fuels the anger you can’t entirely let go of.

Megumi stays quiet for a moment, watching the two of you before finally speaking again. “They won’t stop, all of this.” he says, his voice firm. “They’ll keep pushing this, won’t they? Trying to make him the scapegoat.”

Satoru shrugs, his usual bravado creeping back. “Let them try. I’m not exactly easy to get rid of. Living after all that is proof enough.”

You frown, your frustration bubbling up again. "You shouldn't have to keep proving yourself to them, Satoru. You’ve already sacrificed so much, and they act like none of it matters."

He looks at you with those pale blue eyes that somehow always manage to soften, just for you. “What do you want me to do? Step aside and let them tear down everything I’ve built? Everything you, me, and the students have worked for?”

“No, my love.” you say firmly. “But I don’t want you to bear all this alone. You’ve already done more than anyone could’ve asked for.” You pause, the words catching in your throat before you add quietly, “I just want them to think of you, for once. Not what they want from you.”

Megumi nods in agreement, stepping closer. “They’re too busy looking for someone to blame. And they’ll keep at it until they find a way to pin everything on you.” His blue - green eyes darken slightly, a shadow of his own frustrations showing. “But we won’t let them.”

Satoru sighs, though there’s a flicker of pride in his gaze as he looks at Megumi. “You’ve grown up, Megumi.” 

Megumi raises an eyebrow, his expression flat. “I’m not a kid anymore.”

Satoru chuckles softly, but the sound is laced with exhaustion. “No, you’re not. But you always will be to me, kiddo. And I’m glad I’ve got you two watching my back.” He looks at you again, the smile fading as he speaks more seriously. “But don’t let this consume you. I’ll be fine. They can push, they can complain, but I’ll keep doing what I know is right.”

Your heart aches at his words. His strength is undeniable, but it’s the toll that worries you most. You lean forward, your voice quiet but firm. “We’ll face them together. You’re not alone in this, Satoru. Not anymore. We’re here.”

His eyes soften even more, the weight of your words sinking in. “I know,” he whispers, squeezing your hand gently. “And that’s what makes it worth it.”

For a moment, the anger subsides, replaced by a quiet resolve between the three of you. You won’t let them tear him down. Not while you’re by his side. Not while Megumi is standing strong. Together, you’ll face whatever comes next.

epilogue

Satoru holds your hand for a beat longer, the weight of the conversation lingering in the air. But then, in true Gojo Satoru fashion, the somber mood shifts as his signature grin makes a slow return now that you both were finally alone..

“You know, baby....” he says, tilting his head and giving you a playful look. “You’re always swooping in to save me. My knight in shining armor.”

Your eyes widen slightly, caught off guard by the sudden change in tone. “What? I—” You open your mouth to protest, but the words stumble over themselves, not quite landing the way you want.

He leans closer, that mischievous gleam in his eyes growing brighter. “Oh yeah, always protecting me from the big, bad sorcerer world. It’s cute, really.”

You feel heat creeping up your neck, spreading quickly to your cheeks. “Satoru, that’s not—”

“What?” he interrupts, his smirk widening as he watches your flustered expression with clear amusement. “I think it’s sweet. I mean, look at you, always worrying about little ol’ me.”

“Little?!” you sputter, trying to keep your composure as he grins down at you. “You’re the most powerful sorcerer alive, you don’t need saving—”

“And yet, and yet!” he drawls, leaning in even closer, his voice low and teasing,.“Here you are, my personal knight in shining armor. Should I start calling you ‘Sir Baby’?”

Your face is on fire now, and you smack his arm lightly. “Satoru, stop!”

He laughs, the sound light and full of mischief, clearly enjoying your reaction. “Oh, come on. Admit it—you like being my hero.”

You narrow your eyes, trying desperately to compose yourself, but the smile tugging at your lips betrays you. “I’m not your hero,” you mutter, though the words come out far less convincing than you’d intended.

Satoru’s grin softens into something more genuine as he leans back, still holding your hand. “Maybe not. But I wouldn’t mind being rescued by you a little more often.”

You blink, caught between the teasing and the sincerity in his voice. “Satoru…”

He winks at you, breaking the moment with a playful shrug. “What can I say? I like having you around. Blushing and all.”

You groan, turning away slightly, but the smile on your face is impossible to hide. “You’re impossible.”

“And you love it, don't you?” he replies, completely unfazed, that cheeky grin never leaving his face.

And, despite everything, you can’t help but laugh. “Unfortunately, I do.”

You'll get him, you just need to... to figure out your plan of attack, and maybe stop the throbbing between your legs.

Thinking about ghost!reader rutting against Ghost while he’s asleep only for him to wake up. 👀

Fuck it.

(Cw: somnophilia but he's awake so not really, unnegotiated free-use, ghost!reader(f), Ghost's legendary self control breaking)

The clock strikes and you feel yourself heavy. You weight sinks into you, rooting you in place over your husband. You're testing his reflexes tonight. He's quite quick, your husband, and more agile than you'd have thought given his size. He's also a light sleeper. Not once have you gotten close to killing him, never spent more than a moment trying before he'd banished you back to the void with a grumble about dreaming and birds. You wonder if he can sense your murderous intent, or if it's your weight that gives you away, maybe the movement...

That's why you're here tonight, to find out.

You lean over him, slide your hands over his broad chest. It's softer than you thought, relaxed muscle cushioning your fingers. You tip your head. Stronger than you remember your husband being. Though you're sure his hand bruises the same way. You file it away neatly in your memory. Your hips ache pleasantly, muscle moved in a way you're not used to.

He draws in a full breath, his chest expanding and lowering under your hands.

There's something firm between your legs. It pushes against you, and makes your stomach jump when you shift over it.

You don't remember much about your husband's cock aside from your distaste for it. It feels much bigger like this, warmer, it twitches against you. You tug at your nightdress's skirt, pull it up enough to lift your hips and check the hard length that nestled itself so nicely against your cunt. Big.

Your husband makes a noise and your embarrassment burns through you, pops you back into the phantasm before you can cover yourself again. You hide your head in your hands, try to ignore the warmth on your cheeks, as your husband rolls over to continue his dreaming.

"Cannae believe you're gettin' turned on by dreams of some hen murderin' ya." Soap grumbles, rubbing his chin as he inspects the cards laid on the table. "Seems pretty on brand." Gaz makes a face, slipping Price a card under the table. "Didn't try to kill me this time, flashed me 'er pussy an' left." Ghost grunts, reorganizing his hand for a third time. "Are you picking up the river or not?" Price gripes as Soap hesitates his hand a fourth time.

You're resolved to keep your skirt down tonight. It took you a few days to work up the courage to continue your study, but you're feeling confident! The more you know about your husband, the easier it'll be to kill him.

He reads before bed, a novel with a ship on the cover. He still has black paint smudged in his lashes when he lays his head down. He never gets it all off in the shower.

Not that you're paying attention to that.

You avoid the bathroom altogether when he's in there.

It's only proper.

You sit on the bed to watch him sleep, count the hours as they pass. You lay your head on the pillow next to him when you get bored. Pretend you're sleeping too. When you get bored of that you go back to staring at him.

He's rather interesting, your husband. You don't know what he does all day, but it must be dangerous. He comes home with all sorts of bruises and scrapes, and that horrible mask. You wonder what he does that he needs to hide his face. It must be horrible. Criminal even. That tracks, you suppose. Your husband isn't a good man, but you knew that when you married him.

You climb onto his lap when the clock chimes a quarter 'til.

It's a good angle for him. His face softened, his lashes still clumped with paint as they rest against his cheeks, his scared lips parted on gentle breaths. You lean over him, study the angry pink scars that cross his cheeks, cut through his lip and over his nose. When did those happen?

You add them to your memory.

You heavy, and see his lashes flutter ever so slightly. His hips twitch. You freeze. You can't tell if it was a reflex from your weight settling on him or if he's waking up. Your nerves seize you and you feel your muscles tighten. You sit back on his lap, prepared to run and his- that presses against you.

You resist the urge to look, but you can feel it. The blankets haphazardly tossed over him, hardly do anything to cover the thick shape of your husband's cock pressing against your cunt. You swallow your fear, he's asleep, he can't do anything to you. Besides this is... you're just gathering information.

You don't know when the last time you felt his dick was, likely before he killed you. You don't remember it being particularly pleasant. Still, your curiosity gets the better of you a second time, and you scoot back onto his thick thighs to get a better look at it.

You pick at the blankets, trying to ignore the twist in your stomach at the sight of his cock straining against his boxers. It's difficult to ignore. You run your fingertips along the length of it, feeling the heat through the cotton. You bite your lip, press your palm to it, trying to feel the thickness, gage how badly-

"Fuck," your husband groans, his hand snapping over your own.

Humiliated heat explodes through you, and you pop back to the void.

"Bird's skittish," Ghost explains, scratching his cheek. He's pulled the balaclava up over his nose, just enough so the rest of the men can see his lip twitch as he looks at his cards. "Your reoccurring dream," Price clarifies, "is skittish?" Ghost hums in assent. "Again, seems on brand." Gaz shrugs. "No it's definitely a ghost," Soap says, scrunching his nose at the cards on the table. "For the love of God Johnny just take the fucking river." Ghost snaps when he pokes the run.

You're trying again. Third times the charm. You're not going to get scared off by your husband or his dick again. You're a married women, you've seen it, he's put it inside you, there's nothing to be scared of.

So what's the clench in your stomach when you climb onto your husband tonight? The heat on your skin? When you heavy and feel him press between your thighs, nestled tight against your pussy, why do you rock your hips ever so slightly against him? Why does it feel good?

You let out a soft whine, feeling the way the fabric of the blanket catches against your clit. The cotton rubbing at your slit isn't entirely unpleasant. It's been so long since you had anyone- anything- touch you. You've never had the courage to touch yourself, it wasn't proper, but-

But this is your husband. He's taken his pleasure from you enough times, you don't see why you shouldn't do the same with him.

You rock your hips against the blanket, grind down onto your husband's cock. It feels good. You settle your hands on his chest, feel the muscle twitch under your palms, and use the leverage to rock against him a little harder. The movement of your hips shifts the blanket, makes it roll and twist so you have new textures to grind against. Each little motion catches you in a way that shivers heat through you. You drop your head forwards, breathing through the jolts of pleasure.

Your pussy burns with heat, eager, drooling, sensitive to the limited attention you give it. You hum, your brows pinching together. The friction is just at the edge of what you want. There's something missing from the soft scratch of fabric.

Until it finally slides off and you wet folds slide over the soft skin of your husband's bare cock. Your breath hitches. He's so warm. You slide against him so nicely, his cock parting your folds as you grind against it, simple friction. Your clit nudges against the head, the back and forth rocking of your hips dragging his foreskin back. You can feel the coarse hair tickling your skin, the wetness that spills from you making what you're sure are blond curls darker, you want to look but you can't stop your hips for long enough to tug at your skirt.

The twitch of his cock under you should worry you, but you're too focused on the need thrumming between your legs. You feel desperate, aching for something you can't put a name to. Your hips move almost without thought, searching for that quick catch of a spark against your clit that makes you clench around nothing. Each drag of your pussy enforces the empty feeling in you, makes you swallow down the soft noises that seem to drip from your lips as quickly as slick drips from your folds.

You don't care when big hands grab your hips, holding you down tighter against your husband's cock, grinding you exactly how you need with practiced movements. All the weight you'd gained on the hour seems pointless, discarded easily by the hands that pull you back and forth. Your breath hitches, your lips pouting as you whimper and whine. Your husband's tip drags a focused path between your folds, your grinding concentrated on the part of him that seems as wet as you are.

"Tha's it baby," A low voice growls in the dark, "take wha' ya need."

You nod, rolling your hips with the guiding hands. His thumbs rub at your hips, silently rolling your skirt up into the palms that grip you. You feel when the air hits your bare skin. You steal the moment to watch the slide of your husband's cock between your legs. God.

Your brows draw together, your head tipping as your eyes glue to the movement of the ruddy head. It glistens with your slick, drooling against your husband's stomach, making the hair dark. Had your husband's cock always looked like that? More appealing than grotesque. It's not scary in the least.

Your head feels fuzzy, your skin hot. Your legs shake and your breath comes quick. Your stomach clenches tight and you feel the hands shift, tipping your hips to focus the attention on your clit. It feels tingly and sensitive, too much and not enough all at once until it's exactly what you were chasing.

You feel yourself clench, your muscles winding up only to unwind in a sudden burst. Your stomach flutters, looking for something to grip as you're worked against your husband's cock. It's all wet and warm, you make a noise you've never heard before as your vision goes blurry. Your nails rake over your husband's chest as you try to find purchase against the wave of wave of pleasure that washes over you.

The hands keep moving you and your lashes flutter. Everything is hot and slick, and you jerk when your clit is dragged against his cock. It feels like a crack runs through you, like splintering to feel his hands tighten on your hips.

Hands.

You look at your husband, meet the black eyes that watch you. Your heart batters against your ribs. You can feel flames licking at your skin, your shame and anger flaring. You press your hands to your face and scream. Your husband's eyes go wide.

Blood trickles onto the white pillowcase.

You feel the hard yank back to the ether just as you see white paint the red marks on his chest.

Ghost wiggles the finger in his ear, trying to get the ringing to stop. Christ this is a bother. Medical was useless, told him what he already knew: burst eardrum. "Cannae tell me a dream did tha'!" Soap waves a hand at Ghost's chest. The scratches you'd left definitely seem like proof of... something. "Could've done that to 'imself." Gaz reasons, picking up a card from the center and putting it on his pile. "What?" Ghost tries to keep his voice at its normal volume. "Said you're fucking 'aunted." Price tells him, raising his voice. Ghost grunts, taps a card against the table before picking up the last two in the center. "Scopa." "Aye 'e isnae listening," Soap shakes his head. "He can't hear mate," Gaz huffs, a poor attempt at disguising his laugh. Ghost glares. Ok, so maybe he was a little haunted.

For @heavenbarnes

18+ Older bf!Simon who waxes your 🐱 for you (fem reader)

You originally bought the wax supplies to do it yourself, but it hurts. You get all sweaty and your hands start shaking after the second strip, finding it nearly impossible to push past the psychological aversion to pain.

Simon pokes his head in the bathroom, assuming by the gasps and whimpers that something completely different is happening in there. Nope, it’s just you, holding a popsicle stick in one hand and grasping your pussy with the other, trying to psyche yourself up for the next bit of wax.

It’s a learning curve, admittedly. His first time is a little patchy, and it takes a few strips to learn the correct angle that doesn’t tug your skin. But he improves rapidly after that, and you suspect he’s been watching some YouTube videos or something, because suddenly he’s laying the strips according to hair direction, and instructing you when to breathe in.

In no time it’s your monthly routine — you on the bed atop a towel, holding your knees open and cursing while he methodically tortures your poor pussy.

And the worst of it is when he keeps soothing away every rip with, “Aww, brave soldier, aren’t you? Breathe in, let me get this one quickly— Ahh, that’s a good girl.”

He never apologizes until the end, when he’s washed away the powder and gently rubbed some oil to your smooth, tingly skin. He finds your clit with his fingers and strokes it for you while he murmurs how sorry he is. He doesn’t like hurting you, but you did so well, and now you can just relax and let him make it up to you for a little while.

It doesn’t matter how much you whine and beg, he knows you’re not supposed to have any sexual activity right after a wax. You just get clean fingers, carefully avoiding the raw skin to dip into your fluttering pussy and rub your arousal into your hard little clit, again and again until you cum your forgiveness for him.

There, that’s better, isn’t it? What a pretty, satisfied pussy for him to admire. No, he doesn’t need anything in return. He can wait for a few days until it’s safe to give it some fucking. 🩷

Humping>>>>>>

humping tsu’teys abs😫😫😫😫 what else does he have such a slutty little waist for? other bitches to hold???? I’m ravenous and barking

I AGREE.

||

Spoil You

characters: tsu’tey x na’vi!reader

ratings: nsfw , humping , orgasm , praise kink , superiority

To explain how you got yourself in this position, back arched and legs straddling your mates waist was an embarrassing story. What wasn’t so embarrassing was the toe curling stimulation your clit was feeling each time you rocked your hips back and forth on Tsu’teys abs. His fingers were gripped into your hips, watching you with a bold smirk on his face knowing he had you wrapped around his finger just from letting you grind on his tones abdomen.

Your pace sped up, feeling your legs jerk away from the overstimulation rushing through your puffy clit to your spine. A choked whine left your throat, and you resorted to bouncing on top of him, pressing down your clit to the stiff ridges.

“Feel good, yawne? You look so pretty getting yourself off like this.” He said, his accent thick with each word.

His deep voice rumbled through his own body, feeling the vibrations on your thighs as well as your heated hunt, only making you more desperate for your release. You brushed your hair to one side and over your shoulder, leaning your head to the corresponding side while you shut your eyes tightly. Your mouth was slightly open, making it easier for small whines to escape.

“S’good, so good..” You trailed off, returning back to your soft grinds.

Finding one spot, you pressed yourself down firmly on his abs, rocking your hips back and forth feverishly. Another cry left your azure lips, hands grasping on his shoulders. Despite the urge to jerk your legs away from the continuous motion, you held steady to aid the growing flutter in your stomach. You can hear how wet you made his chest, looking down briefly to see all your juices glisten. Your eyes trailed up to Tsu’tey, his eyes half lidded. His own hips rocked against nothing, wanting to get himself off after seeing your desperate attempt to get yourself off using his toned abdomen.

Instead of digging into your skin, his fingers ran up and down your sides, trailing up your back before sliding back down to your upper thighs. The subtle touches drove you crazy along with the fact that each ridge your clit went over was slicked up from your aching hole, turning you on even more. Your eyes rolled back, finally feeling the bearing satisfaction you’ve been craving the entire time, your hands darted to Tsu’tey’s, a habit you two nerve dropped. His fingers intertwined with yours and rested on your thighs, feeling your hole that was pressed to his chest clench around nothing as you finally climax.

“There we go, pretty girl. You feel better, yawne?” He said with a teasing voice, his naturally stern eyes gazing down at the white liquid dripping from your core and onto his slick abs.

“Clean your mess up, you know what to do.” Tsu’tey said, hand letting go of yours and gripping onto your hair, bringing you down to his chest.

You whined lazily, still coming down from the high as you repositioned yourself, going down to straddle his legs. You saw Tsu’tey prop himself on his forearms, watching your every move with those intimidating eyes, the ones you loved so much. You dragged your tongue across his abs, licking up your own cum and wetness. Grimacing a bit at the tangy taste, you gazed into his own eyes while doing it, lapping up each bit while he caressed your hair, brushing some from your face and away from your mouth while you continued to clean off his torso.

Once he found it to be enough, Tsu’teys hand gripped onto your soft throat. He pulled you up to where you once were, your arms following to help pull your body up instinctively. “Good girl.” He mumbled before bringing you into a rough kiss, his tongue forcing its way into your mouth, exploring each bit before he pulled away. Your ears pinned back, tail swaying as he left you wanting for more.

“That’s enough for you today, I spoil you too much.” Tsu’tey said, jumping to a squat. He kissed the top of your forehead, raising to his full height inside of the hut.

You readjusted your loincloth, standing up to your own height, which was just below Tsu’teys bottom lip. You wrapped your arms around his own, “You can never spoil me too much.” You said, voice coming off like silk to his ears.

“Nice try, but I meant it.” He said, giving you one of his rare smiles.

He’ll give in eventually.

❤❤❤❤

— ⋅˚₊‧ loner!megumi x popular!reader masterpost

"i have loved you since we were eighteen"

ଓ summary: concept story/drabbles of loner megumi with his popular girlfriend ଓ cw: ex-cheerleader!reader, f!reader, sorority!reader, reader is feminine coded, college au, non-sorcerer au, fluff, angst, aged up characters, romance, alcohol, partying, suggestive themes, jealousy ୭ৎ — moodboard ♬ ₊˚. playlist

disclaimer: introduction fic will be a longer fic. Other pieces will be drabbles, headcanons and shorter pieces

ଓ yuji and nobara hear the story of how you first started dating

ଓ megumi taking care of you while you're drunk

ଓ reader gets jealous

ଓ the alcohol triggers the jealousy to cause an outburst

ଓ photo booth

ଓ reader meeting gojo for the first time

ଓ playlist

❤

Bunny's Debut

Summary: You have started Halloween preparations by trying on your bunny costume!

Warnings: 18+, mdni, fem! reader, pus drunk Satoru, oral (f receiving), lots of praise, spanking (kinda), (& tell me if I forgot something!)

“How do I look, Sato?" You ask innocently as you try on your bunny costume. The faux leather fabric hugs your butt a little more firmly than you had expected.

The hairband with floppy bunny ears stirring atop your head to complete the look.

“Show me baby! I’m waiting patiently. “ Satoru replies enthusiastically as he hurries into the bedroom, eagerly to get a glimpse of your new outfit. "But isn’t it a little too early to be trying out Hallowee-" He immediately halts every movement as his eyes lay on you.

"Doesn’t it look cute?!“ you ask excitedly as you pose to give him a better look from different angles and playfully wiggle your butt with the bunny tail on it. "I thought I could be a bunny and you could be a wolf or farmer! Cute right!“

Satoru can barely think as he looks at you. The way the fabric of the clothing item clings to you and how confident and playful you are being is making it impossible for him to form a coherent sentence. "Bunny, you look so gorgeous, my precious angel. Come closer so I can get a better look."

There is a crazed look in Satoru’s eyes as he watches you walk closer to him. Every step makes his heart beat rise. As you get close to him, his hands find their place on your waist and he pulls you in further.

"Baby, you need to stop torturing me like this. At least give me a warning or something.“

His hands wander lower and lower until they are comfortably placed on your butt. He playfully pulls on the bunny tail.

"I really, and I mean really, like this on you. You dressed up so pretty for me.“

"Who else is going to be my big bad wolf. " The playfulness in your voice sends blood rushing to Satoru’s cock.

He lets out a groan. "You really are a little brat, huh?" Satoru leans in to capture your lips. He wastes no time and pulls the zipper of your costume to loosen its hold your body. He leans back a little to get a look at you, but you chase his lips and press against him harder. His hardened cock presses against you and makes him whimper at the friction.

"B-baby. Let me breathe." He reluctantly pulls away, acting like he needs you more than air. This time instead of going for your lips, he targets your neck as one of his hands decide to reach for your exposed tits. He pinches your nipple lightly, making you moan out.

„Toru~“ You whine out in frustration and hoping he will give your neglected pussy some of his attention. Your hips move on their own to try and eliminate some of your impatience that way, but the second your leather covered clit comes in contact with Satoru's muscular thigh, all thought leave your head, leaving you a hazy mess.

„What is it baby?“ he teased, knowing well that you are trying your best to keep your eyes open and attention on his words. „Does my pretty girl need something?“

You choose to ignore his words and continue to chase after your pleasure. „Hey now.“ he spanks your butt to get your attention. „I would like my girl to answer my question. I wanna help her out~“ he continues on playfully as he sees you getting annoyed at the fact he pulled you out of your lust-filled-haze.

„Fine!“ you reply a little annoyed at him, knowing damn well he stopped you on purpose. „If you want to be soo helpful, why don’t you come eat me out then!“ you state with a little attitude in your voice as you walk to your bed and slip the costume off.

„Of course I will, baby. You did get all dressed up for me!“ Satoru quickly gets on his knees, not minding your attitude and pushes your thighs to your chest. He expects you to hold the posterior as he dives into your cunt. Satoru places a kiss on your clit thought your panties before pushing them to the side.

He lets out a moan at the sight of your pussy. „Baby, you can be annoyed at me all you want, but your pussy is so happy to see me.“ He laps at you in a hurry, like he was starving and had to wait for weeks to get to you again.

Satoru has a way with his mouth. But only you knew how good he was with his tongue. He buries himself between your thighs and bumps his nose to your clit to entice cute moans out of you that are only meant for his ears.

„Baby, you gotta be louder for me. I can barely hear you over how wet you are. Can you do that for me?“ Satoru asks before he harshly sucks on your clit before soothing it with his tongue and elicits a loud moan that you don’t even bother holding back.

„Good girl. I know you could do it.“ He mumbles as he goes back to fuck you with his tongue. The slurping, lapping and moaning into your pussy is too overwhelming and making your head spin.

„O-oh, you- you need to slow down, Toru!“ You shift your legs so that you can hold both of them to your chest with one arm and with the other hand, you can pull on Satoru's hair in an attempt to give your pussy a break from him.

„Nu-uh.“ Satoru spanks your ass harshly. „Baby, you can’t take her away from me. Not when you’re about to cum on my face.“ He spreads your cheeks apart to get a better angle and goes right back.

Your eyes roll to the back of your head and you can barely make out any sensation other than Satoru's mouth on you and his breathy moans that send sparks of pleasure through your body.

"Are you about to cum, pretty girl? Yeah? Aw, don’t hold back now. Give me everything you got.“ He chuckles as you clench down on his tongue once he pressed it all the way in.

As expected, your whole body starts to shake in pleasure. You have to go back to using both of your hands to hold your legs to your chest as your orgasm washes over you.

„Good girl!“ Satoru places a soft kiss on the back of your thighs as he stands up. He leans over to capture your lips in a messy kiss as he rubs small circles on your clit.

„How about I fuck my bunny standing up, hm? The big bad wolf is strong enough to hold his pretty girl in his arms."

₊˚ෆ new-found kink - S.G - nsfw! ₊˚ෆ

・❥・ Satoru discovers a love for your new panties and decides to do something about it ~

a/n - thank u for all the love im receiving for my writing hehe many kisses !! <3

"What? don't you like them , Toru?"

Gojo's mind was fuzzy - his ears ringing. and his eyes were fixed down on those pretty baby-pink panties you had on display for him. They were new, with cute little white bows on the side - their material thin enough to see the outline of your puffy folds from beneath them. Thin enough to expose just exactly how wet you were. His mouth was practically watering at the damp, dark spot which was coating the front of your panties and your usual suave, collected boyfriend was absolutely mind-fucked by how easily wet you get for him just from a heated make out session.

Satoru Gojo was fucked. Completely and utterly fucked. His cock was rock solid just from the sight of you sprawled out beneath him in nothing but your soaking wet panties. It's not like he's never seen you like this before - he has many times actually. But you've never worn a pair of panties like this. So fucking slutty and flimsy that it made his breath hitch.

"Toru?" You question when he doesn't respond, "Are you - Ah !"

Your toes curl at the sudden wave of pleasure you feel when your boyfriend slides a finger down your wet, clothed slit.

"Holy shit." his voice was barely above a whisper

His lips were parted as he slowly slides his finger up and down, your slick already glistening on it even through your panties.

"Baby," He breathes out and his eyes finally snap up at you - pupils incredibly dilated, "Look at how fucking wet you are~" He coos, amazed.

You gulp, chest heaving up and down, little whimpers leaving your parted lips as you watch your boyfriend toy with your clothed cunt. He hums as he does so, his fingers now fully coated with your juices.

"We're keeping these on for today, yeah?" His voice was raggedy and a smile twitches on his pretty bitten lips as he leans forward, his breath hot on the shell of your ear, "Don't want them to go to waste now do we?" he whispers.

Your back arches at the tone of his voice, shutting your eyes as your boyfriend applies more pressure on that sweet- sweet spot on your core. "mmm~" You can hear the smirk in his voice as his hand moves faster, the squelching sound coming from between your legs filling the room. Heat burns across your entire body, your pussy practically getting wetter by the second - Gojo was making you feel embarrassed and he fucking loved it

You notice that his free hand was tucked away under his boxers, slowly moving up and down his length as he touches you.

"Can i please make a mess on them, angel?" He purrs in your ear, causing you to gasp. "Let me ruin them."

as if on auto-pilot, you nod furiously, your hips bucking up to grind down harder on his hand. He lets out a small chuckle, kissing your ear before straightening his back.

He wasted no time in pulling down his boxers, his pretty, flushed cock slapping up against his toned abdomen - pre-cum already drooling from the tip. His dark, blue eyes scan your body and he licks his lips as he gives his cock a few tugs before-

Smack!

"fuck-T-Toru!" You moan out his name as he gives your clothed cunt a mean slap with his cock.

He lets out a throaty chuckle as he keeps tapping his heavy cock against it, causing you to let out the cutest little gasps and whines with every tap.

"My baby must love me soooo fucking much," he grabs his cock and starts sliding it up and down between your folds, your juices splattering all over the two of you. "can't believe that you're still getting wetter and wetter for me."

The feeling of his cock weighing down against your sensitive cunt was making you see stars. no time was wasted before his cock was coated with your slick mixed with the precum that was spewing from his pulsing tip.

You felt so dirty - the room was full of whimpers, jagged breaths and wet noises. Your cunt was aching for him - No, it was quite literally crying for him.

His flushed tip meets your covered entrance and he prods at it with his cock, the tip of his tongue stickling out the side of his mouth as he does so.

"You want me inside you so bad, right angel?" He eyes were focused on the way his tip was sinking into you though your panties, just barely enough to stretch you out, causing you to squirm beneath him.

"Please-" Was all you could choke out before he started rutting against you faster. He was starting to lose his composure, you noticed by the way his hair was sticking to his forehead, by the way he was biting his bottom lip as his eyes feasted hungrily at the sight of your puffy folds struggling to wrap around his thick length, the material of your panties so fucking wet at this point that you wouldn't even consider it underwear anymore.

"my god - such a slut- hah- fuckin' letting me use your pussy like this-" he was blabbering and spewing cusses at this point, his cock violently rubbing that sensitive nub. "I'm the only one who can get you this wet, right baby?"

Seeing him so into your pussy like this was driving you insane. "Y-yes Toru, mmmff - only you- fuck~"

A fucked out smile appeared on his glistening, pretty pink lips. "ah- yes- fuck yes - and i'm the only one who can cum on these cute little panties, hmm?"

You nod your head, spreading your legs further and gripping on the sheets. His cock twitched at the sight of your pussy slightly peaking from the material. He wanted to cum on your pussy so bad - it was like he discovered a new fetish that he never knew he had. "wanna cover it in my cum - fuck, gotta mark what's m-mine right?" You didn't know if he was speaking to you or himself at this point. He was whining, muttering your name and furrowing his eyebrows - you could tell he was close to coming.

"p-please make a mess on me - use me." That 'use me' you purred out had his eyes rolling to the back of his head.

"mmm-fuck! baby- baby- I'm gonna-hah!"

His head tilts back - glistening, toned chest heaving up and down as he lets out the most delicious sounding, guttural groan from his throat, the tip of his cock pulsing against your cum covered little pussy.

you felt like an absolute whore - all fucked out and you didn’t even cum yet.

His cum felt so warm and so fucking good as he smeared it all over your pussy with his fat tip, breathing heavily as he did so.

He sighed - a small, satisfied smile now painting his features.

"lets put these cute little panties to the side now.”

Calling them until they’re annoyed

Including: Gojo, Nanami, Choso, Sukuna, Toji, Yuuji, and Megumi

〰・♡・〰〰・♡・〰〰・♡・〰〰・♡・〰〰・♡・〰

❤❤

sitting on simon’s lap, letting him shotgun you a few hits from the joint. getting all warm and fuzzy and feeling that familiar heat between your thighs. rocking down onto his hardening cock and hearing him chuckle, his hands running over your body.

gripping your hips and forcing you to grind onto his cock harder, the fabric of your pants catching your clit just right as you lay your head in his shoulder and whine, pussy soaking through the fabric of your panties.

simon whispering little praises to you in your ear—“doin’ so good for me”, “gonna come for me, love?”, “go on, use me how you want to”—till your legs are shaking and you’re coming from dry humping him. hearing him laugh softly before picking you up, kissing up your neck.

“c’mon, baby. let me show ya some proper lovin’.”

Hi again! I had a cool thought about Simon.

I think if you really asked him too, he would do *almost* any kink. (obviously not ones that flare up his fight or flight thoughts, but my point is still there.)

You wanna fuck in public? Alright. You wanna have him wear some lingerie? Sure, but only for you. No pictures.

Eventually you want his team to come to your house and watch, and he is reluctant, but asks them anyway.

(Soap sits at the foot of the bed trying to catch some of your cum-)

I also think he would do almost anything, and not for some “I guess I have to, I don’t want to lose them” reason. He actually just doesn’t gaf, and so much of his childhood was stolen from him that he enjoys the play aspect. I hc him as an unexpectedly playful lover.

^^

-> Whatever is done for love always occurs beyond good and evil

ryomen sukuna x reader

summary: instead of eating the finger of ryomen sukuna, you somehow absorb it, the whole action resulting to you summoning him instead. unfortunately, he's very much stuck to you at any second of the day.

warning/s: not fully enemies to lovers??, no use of y/n, reader and sukuna have alot of talks, fluff, suggestive content, showering together, sukuna does not gaf about privacy lmfao, tease!sukuna

part 2

out of all the things that had happend to you, being stuck with ryomen sukuna himself was your death sentence.

quite literally.

the rescue mission in sendai had gone completely wrong — after attempting to help fushiguro, you ended up with sukuna's finger in your hold. fairly said, you were a good sorcerer, good enough to pass up on a grade two curse, but that curse was intelligent. it longed for the finger, and before you knew it, the random kid next to fushiguro was screaming, no, begging for you to hand him the finger.

fuck no. eating it would be the dumbest option of it all.

but before you knew it, you felt it, the wave of cursed energy hitting you and everyone else. it was so much, all at once, and it exorcised the curse easily, the two teens hitting the ground with a loud 'thud'. however, it was you who was in trouble now. one second you were with the others, and the next you were..

trapped.

the ground was flooded in blood, skulls lay all around you. looking up, you found yourself caught in what looked like a enormous ribcage. but what caught your attention was the throne built out of skulls, a figure sitting at the top of it.

"fool, you dare to actually summon me?"

that was the last thing you heard before everything went pitch black.

---

so thats how you ended up stuck with a literal demon to your side. gojo had come shortly after you fainted, bringing everyone (including the newfound boy who possessed cursed energy) back to jujutsu high.

turns out, you somehow used your cursed energy to lure the king of curses out of his deep slumber, and instead of becoming his vessel, you became his owner. weird, really.

however, whilst jujutsu high got a new student, yuji itadori, who was now getting trained by gojo himself, you were up for execution.

unfair, truly left you devestated as you still had some things you would've liked to do in life, but the non-stop whining and bitching around from the curse next to you made you wish your death came sooner than anticipated.

he remained next to you, the distance between you two nothing more than six meters.

not only that, but he got summoned in his true form, and god did it scare you at first — he was tall at seven feet, your head barely reaching his chest, he had four arms, four eyes and two mouths. he wore a kimono, although his upper body mostly stayed exposed.

with you, he was barely a threat to anyone. somehow, only you had the power to control him, which meant he followed your instructions only. that however, did not stop him from attempting to hurt or kill you indirectly. your instructions had to be clear, every word had to be taken in consideration.

not only that, but he was visible to everyone else in that school, which made your situation even worse. you isolated yourself in fear of scaring someone else, even after fushiguro and the new guy, yuuji itadori, had tried to visit you.

you didn't trust sukuna.

you couldn't let him near anyone.

you were up to take the remaining 19 fingers the same way you took the finger in sendai, and then, your execution would be next.

so you tried to make the best out of it. gojo had given you your private flat in jujutsu high, a little house with a beautiful garden, to keep yourself at peace whilst the demon gnawed at your every nerve.

"fucks sake, you jujutsu sorcerers are soo boring, constantly afraid and cautious. would it really kill you to go out?" he growled, standing behind you with his upper arms crossed.

you rolled your eyes, scoffing, "no, but it'd surely kill someone else."

"watch your tone, brat. remember who you're talking to."

"and you remember who your master is," you smirked, looking back at him. his expression turned into a disgusted one, and suddenly he was closer than before, leaning down to you, "just because you've summoned me doesn't mean I'll behave like you want me to. I'm the king of curses, and trust me, soon enough I'll have you begging me for mercy, pet."

"whatever you say, king. now go into your corner and stay put." you giggled to which he scoffed. you know that despite everything, he was still capable of making your remaining time a nightmare, but hey, you should've done the same to him, no?

---

taking a shower wasn't a relaxing, comforting thing to you anymore.

you loved it, coming home all exhausted and dirty only to wash yourself in warm water, the scent of shampoo filling your nostrils whilst the warm liquid travelled down your skin.

but now, with the curse around, showering felt like hell itself.

you couldn't not shower for your remaining time, you needed it, so after holding out for literal three days with no water on your nude body, you decided it was time.

you grumbled, collecting a towel and your clothes for the shower. you weren't sure what exactly you were going to do with the seven foot demon following your every step like a lost puppy, but you could still instruct him for stuff, so maybe..

"turn around."

he almost looked offended at your demand, "no."

"I demand you to."

"what? do I look like your servant?"

you groaned, hiding your face in your palms. "sukuna, turn around! 'm not in the mood for this!"

a scoff left his lips and he rolled his eyes, "I dont have to follow your every demand, you know? this goes mostly only for whether I can kill someone or not. and besides, I'll in here with you anyway, I'm stuck to you, remember?"

"staying outside the door will not kill you!"

"I refuse."

you wanted to die on spot. truly a curse, huh?

"fine, fuck you, then. I'm taking this shower." and with this, you were removing your clothes in front of the king of curses.

he was taken aback at your sudden outbreak, staying silent as you went completely naked in the bathroom. you tried to be as nonchalant as possible, but fuck, not only had you an audience, but he contained four eyes that looked you up and down. you were blushing as you stepped into the shower, turning the water on and hoping for the room to fog up soon.

talk about humiliating experience.

sukuna stayed silent for the rest of your shower, and you refused to look at him, but you could feel his eyes on you at all times.

---

bedtime was truly the worst. his intimidating height looming over your bed whilst his eyes shined red was terrifying. you knew he couldn't kill you by hand, but you still didn't trust him. he was a curse afterall.

"relax, brat. go to sleep, your thoughts are giving me a headache."

his voice made you shot up from the bed, looking over at his standing presence.

"you can read my thoughts?"

he scoffs, as if you just asked him the dumbest question of all time, "no. but I can feel when you're overthinking. think of it like getting bombarded by a thousand incoherent words."

"oh." you mumbled in return. your chest hurt, just slightly. you almost felt bad. he stood next to you, not sleeping, getting a headache from you whilst you were capable of peacefully falling into a slumber.

keyword; capability.

you couldn't sleep, not with him standing there atleast.

"don't you sleep?.." you mumbled, staring up at him.

"I dont need sleep. I can, however."

"do you want to?"

instead of the usual snarky remarks, he stayed silent for once. he looked like he himself wasn't sure whether he wanted to sleep. he didn't need it, why should he sleep?

"I suppose it'd be de-stressing."

you almost laugh, what does he have to stress for?

"you can.. sleep if you want to, I'm not preventing you from it."

he sneered, his nose scrunched up, his canines showing, "I know, brat. you don't have that much power over me."

you decided to let his words sink into the room whilst trying to unobtrusively scoot over at the edge of the huge bed, a silent invitation.

it took a few minutes until you felt the mattress dip next to you.

you didn't look back. you gave him his peace, and he gave you yours.

---

you had completely isolated yourself. the only other interaction you'd have (apart from sukuna) was with gojo, and that only for mere seconds. he'd come over to check up on you, bring you your groceries and needs, and occasionally bring you the fingers since you didn't let anyone else in.

after absorbing the fingers, you'd shoo him out of your space immediately. sukuna despised him, and for some reason, you didn't like that.

the more fingers you took in, the more your bond with the curse grew. he still showed that he hated you, but since he was the only other creature you could talk with, you'd bother him with conversations.

the demon that hated you, yet still slept in your bed, had gotten less insufferable.

---

"I don't need food, brat."

"I'm trying to offer you some good time! if we're stuck together we could atleast bond, why are you making this harder than it should be!" you whined, begging the curse to cook with you.

"It is rather concerning of you to think that I'd bond with anyone."

"okay, but don't you want to eat food?"

you were met with silence. you sighed, rolling your eyes, "fine, I'll cook, you eat?"

---

as much as he'd love to degrade you, he couldn't deny that your cooking smelt delicious. he hadn't tried it yet, but he had watched you put ingredients together, watched you sway your hips whilst you made some dough.

you ended up making some dumplings with noodles. old but gold, you'd say — you loved dumplings, you remember teaching megumi how to make them, only to come back with him and gojo stressing over the 'dough' (it was just pure liquid at some point). you giggled, your heart melting at the memory.

you really missed them.

your friends. your boys.

and now you had a whole king to take care of.

"done!" you chirped, holding a bowl filled with noodles and dumplings in front of sukuna's face (atleast you attempted to, his monstrous height giving you a disadvantage).

he stared at the food, tilting his head, but before he could say anything, you were cutting in with your annoyingly soothing voice, "so uh, with.. which mouth do you.. eat?"

his upper body was almost always exposed, the black edge doing barely anything to keep his front covered, so you couldn't help yourself when you caught your own eyes drifting down to his second mouth. he caught on too, smirking as he opened it, a huge amount of saliva dripping down his lower canines, making you look away in 'disgust' (you just tried to hide your flushed face).

"both, but you seem so particularly interested in this one." his smug smirk was displayed across his face as he pointed to the mouth on his stomach, opening it and showing off its teeth.

you blushed, lowering the bowl to your height and taking your chopsticks to pop some dumplings into his mouth. "first I have to cook 'n then I have to feed you too.." you grumble under your breath, your hands slightly shaking as you bring the dumpling to his open slit.

"it was your idea in the first place." he didn't want to point it out, but he loved how you had started caring for him. he didn't care about affection. he didn't need it. he just liked how you became more submissive, letting him order you around sometimes.

it totally wasn't because he wanted your attention. or your affection. or your physical touch. he just wanted you to know your place.

as you placed the food on his tongue, he closed his mouth harshly, making you jump out of place, "eek!"

a loud rumble met your ears.

he was laughing.

ryomen sukuna was laughing.

and it wasn't because he got to kill someone, or torture someone.

he may have been laughing at you, but you'd let yourself get scared more often if it meant to hear that.

you tried to hide your smile by your loud screeching, crying out his name, "s'kuna! 's not funny.. is it yum?"

"its edible."

"you're an asshole," you whined, hanging your head low.

truth be told, the food was amazing. he loved it, but he wouldn't admit it. he didn't need you to get ahead of yourself.

you settled yourself on the couch along with him, his large form taking up a huge amount of space, causing you to bump your shoulder into his side. his bare side. his black edge now tossed somewhere on the couch.

you flushed, continuously feeding him (through his normal mouth, on his face) with your chopsticks whilst putting on a movie.

sukuna stayed silent, watching you sneak a few dumplings for yourself only to feed him with the same used chopsticks.

he didn't complain.

he didn't want to.

---

around four weeks had passed, and you had absorbed five fingers by now. some were stored at the school already, the rest was much harder to find.

but with each week, you and the curse grew more comfortable with each other.

"'kuna?" you called out, sprawled in the bed next to him — he was in nothing but some grey sweatpants you urged gojo to buy for him. you insisted on washing the rest, wanting even for him to have his comfort.

"I told you not to call me that. you're getting more annoying from day to day, insolent brat." he grumbled, but continued when the silenced faded in, "what is it?"

you sighed, looking up at the ceiling, "were you human once?"

you felt the bed shift, but your gaze remained on the same place.

"yes."

"what happend?"

he took a while to answer, and only then did you consider the lack of distance between the two of you, your arms brushing against each other. "I did bad things."

"and that's how you became a curse?"

"'s not that simple, but yes."

"what did you do?"

he hummed, "I killed." his voice was rougher, hitting you with the harsh reality, "destroyed villages. tore apart anyone who stood in my way."

you knew that, but still, hearing it out of his mouth, especially after those weeks stuck with him, made you freeze up. "why?"

he also avoided eye contact, looking up at the ceiling with two of his arms falted on his chest and the other two lying beside him, "because I could. because no one was strong enough to stop me."

you shifted slightly, "what was it like back then? in the heian era?"

the bed shifted, there was a pause before he responded, his tone relaxed, "chaotic. blood-soaked. filled with people too weak to survive."

you swallowed, trying to imagine what it must have been like, but the thought felt distant, impossible, cruel. he'd lived in a world so far removed from your own, a world where life was so fragile.

"don't you want to ask whether I regret it?" his voice snapped you out of your thoughts — he sounded almost teasing, testing you to cross a line.

"what would regret do for you now?" you asked, "regret doesn’t change anything. besides, someone like you wouldn’t regret, right?"

a low chuckle escaped him (and you wanted to slap yourself for wanting to hear it again), "you know me well, little one," he muttered, feeling you slightly move around in the bed, your cheek almost pressing against his muscular arm as you looked at him.

"regret," he mused, finally looking over at you, "is for the weak. it's for people who want to feel better about their pathetic existence. and I have no need for that."

"so you never thought about it? about the lives you ruined?" you asked, not accusingly, but more out of curiosity.

he smirked. "why would I? I took what I wanted. I did what I pleased. and those who fell before me were nothing more than insects crushed underfoot."

you nodded slightly, already expecting that kind of answer. "I figured as much," your voice was soft, making sukuna slightly uneasy. why'd he suddenly wish you'd rather said a bratty remark over this?

the silence between you returned, thick but oddly comfortable in its own way. you weren’t afraid of him. not anymore. a part of you knew it was only because you had control of him, but the other part so desperately wished to forget this. you've known sukuna for mere weeks, but that man was a monster. you didn't know what he'd do if he wasn't under your control. maybe he'd skin you alive, or maybe he'd give you a quick and painless death if he felt nice.

"you're a strange one," he muttered, "most people would be trembling before me, yet here you are—lying beside the very thing they fear."

you smiled faintly, looking back at the ceiling, "well I dont really have another choice, do I?also maybe it’s just because I'm built different." you giggle.

he chuckles, "or maybe you're just foolish."

"maybe," you agreed softly. "but that doesn't change anything either."

"I suppose."

that was the last thing he'd said before you fell asleep, him following shortly after.

---

"you should shower."

"I do not stink."

"I'm aware, but you've been here for seven weeks and not once did you shower. that is disgusting."

he clenched his jaw, his lower arms crossed in annoyance, "a curse does not need to concern itself with such trivial things,"

you sighed, mimicking him and crossing your arms. "trivial or not, it's unhygienic. you're practically human now, at least physically. you can't just ignore basic things like showering."

"are you implying I need to conform to your weak, human standards?" he basically growled.

"yes. you've been staying in my house, eating my food, using my things. the least you can do is shower." you pointed towards the bathroom down the hall.

"you're insufferable."

"you've told me that a hundred times already. now, come on. just a shower."

he grumbled, unimpressed, towering over you as usual. "fine."

he strode down the hallway, you following shortly behind. and only when the two of you had reached the bathroom did reality dawn on you.

why did you force him into this?

"are you just going to stand there and stare?"

you blushed, but covered it up with your own remark, "would be only fair, no? how many times did you watch me shower?"

"touché."

you looked away the second you saw his hands reach for his waistband. staring would only make you look desperate. the bath was already set up, so when you heard the dip of water, some of it splashing to the ground, you looked back to find the large curse sitting in the bathtub.

you smiled.

you came up next to him, sitting on the edge as you reached for the shower head. surprisingly, sukuna didn't complain.

as you wetted his hair, your hands making sure the water doesn't flow down his face, he began speaking, "you know, back in the heian era, my servants used to wash me like this. they were very attentive to every detail."

you raised an eyebrow, "servants? what else did they do for you?"

sukuna leaned back against the tub, the warm water cascading over him. "I had a cook, uraume, who was quite skilled. every dish was made to my liking."

"you mean humans?" you mused, referring to his 'dish'.

"don't get cocky."

you giggled and there was a brief silence.

"you've been so insistent on my cleanliness. perhaps you should join me in the bath."

your heart dropped. out of all things and he choose to request this. you froze, your jaw dropped, your voice cut.

"If only I knew such request would make you shut up all this time ago.."

you grumbled, hesitating. "I-"

"woman, I've seen you naked already, don't start with your fuss."

he was right, and you didn't necessarily want to reject that offer..

you tugged off your shirt and pants, your back facing sukuna. you gasp as you felt a wet touch at your backside. the curse was unclapsing your bra. you blush, how'd he know how to do it so easily?!

your bra fell off your shoulders, and lastly, you removed your panties. you sucked in a breath, moving to join the bathtub. there wasn't alot of space, so you were left with the one and only space between his calves. his gaze was fixated on your body, your curves dipping into the water, your hands trying to cover your breasts so desperately.

he held back a chuckle, his lower arms reaching for your sides to drag you into his lap.

you gasped at the sudden action, squeaking as you felt something — somethings poking your thigh.

holy fuck.

your face reddened.

your breath hitched.

he smirked.

and to act like he didn't know what he was doing, he casually grabbed a hair shampoo bottle, squirting the remainings in his palm and roughly massaging it into your scalp. you let out a little squeal, but let it happen as he grabbed the shower head and carelessly let the water run from your hair down into your face, blinding you.

you spit water, trying to shoo him into stopping, to which he eventually obliged. and despite this, you still giggled.

sukuna watched you put some shampoo into your palm before you leaned up, your upper body all exposed to him as you reached for his hair. your boobs would be in his face, but you were smarter than this, forcing his head to look up at the ceiling by tugging on his hair. you laughed as you heard him groan.

your hands did their magic, a hundred times softer than sukuna's. he wondered why you were treating him so softly, even after he teased you, even after he was rough with you. he just couldn't understand.

but he didn't need to. not when your hands were running through his scalp, your plush thighs pressed against his stomach and your giggles echoing through the room.

"did you have concubines back then?"

"oh? that's quite the abrupt question."

"as if us bathing together isn't abrupt."

he snorted, nodding, "yes, I did. but I rarely engaged in such activities. it was occasional."

you hummed as you took the showerhead and washed the shampoo out of his hair, careful for the water not to reach his face. once the shampoo was out, you sat back down in his lap, your hands resting on his chest whilst you tried to avoid the obvious.. things down there.

your hands travelled down on his tattoos, all the way to the mouth on his stomach with a sparkle in your eye. your thumb brushed over his slit, gasping as he slightly opened his mouth.

"we should.. get out.." you breathed, gulping.

sukuna, who was busy watching you explore him, hummed in return, his low rumble sending vibrations through your body.

with one last look at him, you stood up, reaching for your towel as you stepped out of the tub, leaving (a disappointed) sukuna alone.

he followed after, taking the towel you offered him (which barely seized his waist).

---

"'kuna?"

"mh?"

"did you ever love?"

"..."

truth was, ryomen sukuna didn't know.

he grew up to be a weak, abused human, who then started and ended wars on his own. he killed because he could, he destroyed because he could, he fought because he could. he did everything simply because he could.

he didn't even have a name. his 'name' was the title he was given after he killed a dozen people, thus being spread all over the world. at heart, he was seen as a monster, so he became one physically too, earning all his extra bodyparts and abilities.

he was at peak of war, only to settle down after he won. he remained like a lion after, only eating, sleeping and killing anyone who came in his way.

then came the yorozu brat, who tried to teach him love and get him to fall for her, but he was simply uninterested. he didn't feel love, so he didn't believe in it either.

he didn't love his parents. he didn't have elders who raised him, friends who helped him. he had followers, who he killed if he wanted to. the closest sukuna ever came to being at peace with someone was with uraume, they were simply loyal and at sukuna's side.

"no."

you hummed in response, your back pressed against the curse's side.

"Is it something you wish you had?"

he didn't respond immediately. instead, he leaned his head back. ryomen sukuna, the king of curses, had lived lifetimes most could not even imagine. the notion of love seemed laughable, irrelevant, and yet, here you were asking him about it as if he were some lovegod.

"what good would it have done me? in my time, it was nothing but weakness. I fought, killed, conquered — because that was the only way to survive. to love was to invite death."

you frowned, "but isn't it lonely?"

he scoffed, "I did what I had to. power was all I ever needed — why are you so suddenly interested in this? I'm a curse, what do I know about love? It's you humans that should be experts in this."

you shifted slightly, resting your head back against his side, "I don't know.. I just—" you sighed, thinking, "I don't— the only reason I'd probably ever do all these things you did, so evil and disgusting, I think.. if I had to, I'd do them for love."

sukuna's gaze sharpened at your words, though he didn't speak. he was quiet for a moment, his usual arrogance seemingly coming back.

"you're a fool," he muttered, though there was no venom in the words.

you didn’t flinch, nor did you retreat from his harsh words. "I know,"

"of course. control, power over everything. even yourself, right?"

he let out a low, almost amused grunt, "you're an insufferable brat,"

you laughed lightly, "I've been told that before."

sukuna didn't reply. It had become an everyday thing for the two of you to lie in bed, skin pressed against skin, talking about anything. each night, you'd ask him questions, sometimes they were complete nonsense, and sometimes they'd be stuff about his past. but recently, you've been quite persistent about him.

"I don't love, and I never will," his voice was just slightly above a whisper.

"I know," you replied, equally soft, "but that doesn't mean you haven't been loved before."

sukuna was quiet for a long while after that. you didn't need him to respond. maybe it wasn't about him loving someone, but about the possibility of someone loving him, despite everything — despite the monster he had become.

and maybe, just maybe, that thought was unsettling enough for even ryomen sukuna to sit in silence whilst your eyes fluttered close.

masterlist

AHHHHH😭😭😭😭 ❤❤❤❤

-> the demon in heaven

trueform!ryomen sukuna x reader

summary: he claims he doesn't love, but what if things finally get intimate and he gets lost in the feeling of.. well, you.

warning/s: smut, fluff, teasing, degrading (starting off strong), praise, use of sukuna's stomach mouth, eating out, p in v, slight pussy slapping, sukuna has two dicks but no anal lmao, sukuna is stuck in his own love crisis, denial sukuna, feel free to point out any mistakes

word count: 5,7k

a/n: the support on the last fic was crazy, genuinely thank you guys!! <3 love y'all, hope you enjoy!

you can read this without having read part one, but it would make some references easier to understand!

"whore."

you squeak, jumping up and down to reach your thong from sukuna's hold. he barely has to hold it up, all it takes is for his upper arms to hold it above your head and you're bugging around, already having the audacity to try and climb him.

"that— give it back!"

"a prude like you? with something like this? how quaint," he sneers, twirling the garment playfully. "what, you trying to act all innocent? doesn't add up."

"just because—" you start, your cheeks red, "I wear this, doesn't mean I—" you yelp, jumping even higher, almost managing to grab the cloth, "—I'm a whore!—" you give up, your hands stretched in the air as you stare up at him, "it's just underwear!"

it's been almost three months with sukuna now, and you can't say that these months were the worst ones of your life. surprisingly, you've never felt like this. you enjoy his company, enjoy making food for him, sharing a bed with him, having conversations — him being not next to you feels unnatural now, and you're starting to hate it everytime gojo visits you, because you know that means sukuna has to stay in a seperate room until the sorcerer leaves.

megumi and yuji have been visiting as well, but you don't keep them around for long. you don't want them to think sukuna is mean to you because he's mean to them. you don't need their pity.

you know they're missing you, and you do aswell, but you can't face them. not yet, not with the curse refusing to spare someone some dignity and humiliation.

sukuna quirks an eyebrow, clearly unconvinced, "tch. sure. explain to me why anyone would wear something so ridiculous then."

you blink, momentarily caught off guard. "wait... you really don’t know?"

he lowers the thong slightly, eyes narrowing. "what's there to know? It looks like something a whore would wear."

you groan, rubbing a hand over your face. "well yes— but no—"

"make up your goddamn mind, woman."

you scoff, slightly offended that he wont give you the time to explain, "sukuna, it's not like that. women wear these for... comfort sometimes. it's just less bulky under certain clothes. It's practical!"

He stares at you, unimpressed. "comfort? that looks anything but comfortable."

"It is!" you insist. "okay, look, it's designed to not show lines under tight clothes, and sometimes it's just… easier to wear." you hesitate, unsure how much detail you really need to give. "it doesn't mean anything about, you know, what kind of person I am."

"you mean a slut—"

"s'kuna!"

sukuna scoffs, looking at the thong again as if it's the most baffling thing he's ever seen. "you're telling me women wear these... out of practicality?"

"yes!" you basically cry out, "it's just underwear. that's it. now gimme,"

he frowns, still clearly not getting it, but the mockery in his eyes fades just slightly. "humans are strange," he mutters under his breath, tossing the thong back to you.

you catch it with an annoyed huff, crossing your arms. "it's not strange. you just have no idea what you're talking about."

sukuna shoots you a sideways glance, smirking. "maybe. but watching you try to explain it is entertaining enough."

you glare at him, cheeks still red. "you're impossible. atleast I don't go commando under a kimono."

"tsk, don't act like you don't love it. Basically drooling every it everytime I look at y—"

"h-hey— how'd you kn-"

"sweetheart, I don't have these for no reason." he scowls, motioning to his lower eyes. you blush, partly out of embarassment and because he used a new name for you. your throat goes dry. sweetheart?

he doesn't seem bothered enough to mind the slipout (?), crossing his upper arms whilst letting his lower ones hang loosely to his sides.

"what, all it took was for me to point out your miserable attempts at drooling over me for you to shut up?"

"you're insufferable."

"has this turned into your mantra?"

"with you around, yeah."

he huffs, but he doesn't sound upset or disappointed. in fact, you catch onto the slight amusment in his sound, the corners of his lips raised into a slight smirk.

though, as much as you'd like to deny it, you find yourself proving sukuna right as you stare at his exposed upper body, his pecs barely covered by the black edge he usually wears. his abs — oh god his abs — they're like sugar buns coated in glaze—

..

what?

you scoff, trying to look away but before you can do that, the next thing catches your attention. his mouth. well, the one on the stomach. something about it keeps distracting you, it has pointy teeth, just like his, the infamous markings of ryomen sukuna coat its tongue's surface, and it's always mimicking sukuna's normal mouth. and right now, it has a smirk plastered across his abdomen.

"...kuna?" you murmur, your voice small as you force yourself to look at the ground.

"brat."

"maybe we should get you some normal clothin—"

"no."

you sigh, crossing your arms in defeat. it was worth a try.

"you keep this non-sense up, maybe you should try some traditional clothing, brat. that 'fashion' or whatever you want to call it looks absurd."

you dont find yourself taking any offense for some reason. actually, thinking about it, it does sound amazing. however, it's been ages since you've worn a kimono, and the last time you did it you had help putting it on. looking like an idiot for not being able to put on clothing was not something you wanted to experience today.

"..I haven't worn kimono's in a long while."

he scoffs, all of his four eyes intently watching you, making you want to shrivel yourself up into existence. "if that's your way of saying that you're inable of putting them on yourself then that's pathetic. if you need help, ask for it like it's done, woman."

"fuck y— ack! okay! help me, please!" you wince as he flicks your forehead using one of his hanging arms. with a scowl engraved into his features, he speaks, no, demands, "room, now."

and as you make your way to your room, you let your mind wander, thinking about his little gestures.

the king of curses flicked your forehead whilst he could've just 'accidentally' pinched your nose too hard, maybe even break it by doing do. or maybe he could've tried to shush you with a hand against your mouth and by that 'accidentally' tighten his grip until your skin was decorated by bruises.

but he didn't.

he flicked your forehead.

as you sit on your bed, your legs dangling in the air, you wait for the curse to join you in the room. he follows a few minutes later, wearing some black sweatpants and a large tee whilst his kimono is swung over his lower right arm.

you gulp.

the sweats make your insides boil, a warmth spreading through your whole body. you clench your jaw and shut your eyes, dwelling on the sight of the man wearing normal clothes that fit him oh so well.

you've seen him wearing his non-traditional clothes alot of times by now, but this time you feel different. you feel hot, bothered, needy — over some sweatpants?

sure, you get horny after a while of not having touched yourself (because of that inhumanely large, scary curse following you around like a lost puppy twenty-four-seven) but never have you been this desperate for some touch in such a short timing.

it must be your ovulation. maybe it hit harder than the last few times?

"off."

your head snaps towards him, confusion written all over your face. he, as always, scowls, a disgusted frown plastered across his face as he elaborates, "clothes off. woman—" he groans.

you freeze at his words, your mind racing. you can feel his gaze on you, heavy and unrelenting, as if daring you to defy him. you swallow, trying to maintain some semblance of composure.

"you could at least ask nicely," you mutter, crossing your arms in a weak attempt to stand your ground.

sukuna smirks — a smirk that sends a shiver down your spine. "I don't do nice. now, are you going to undress, or do I also have to do that for you?"

your breath catches in your throat, your cheeks flushing deeper. he's not bluffing, you know that, and it pisses you off. if only you wouldn't back down the second he got all hard on you. you narrow your eyes at him.

"I can handle it," you snap, grumbling.

he watches you, clearly entertained, as you slowly start to peel off your clothes. every movement feels awkward, self-conscious under his gaze. his eyes plastered on you, taking in every inch of skin you reveal, and it only makes your heart beat harder. you try to ignore the way your body reacts — how the air feels thicker, how your skin tingles under the weight of his stare.

when you're finally left in just your undergarments, you stop, but he doesn't budge.

oh so these belong off too?

"do I need to—"

"yes."

you moan, throwing your head back in annoyance.

"you know, you could turn around," you say, half-joking but fully hoping.

he huffs a low laugh, the sound almost mocking you, "why would I? it's not like I haven't seen all of this before."

your body stiffens at his words and you blush. how does he always manage to make moments like these feel like the two of you are some kind of a couple? "you—"

"don't test me, brat. get on with it," he growls, his tone sending a clear message that clearly means 'I'm not in the mood for games'.

reluctantly, you tug off the last of your clothes, standing bare before him. the room feels colder now, and you rub your arms, feeling exposed—not just physically, but in every possible way. sukuna steps beside you, holding his kimono in the air — and it towers over you, probably twice, perhaps thrice, the size of you.

with surprising care, he begins to dress you, wrapping the fabric around your body. his hands are precise as they tie the obi and smooth out the silk. you fit your arms into the upper sleeves, two lower sleeves hanging loosely at your sides. his large palms guide your hands through the holes, his grasp on your arm tight, but not enough to actually hurt. he stares with no shame, although he's more concentrated on getting you to fit into the large cloth.

the entire time, he remains silent.

suddenly, his lower arms come to hold you, pulling you to stand on the bed. you yelp out of surprise, but eventually calm down. you're now eye-height with him, and you blush as you catch his smaller eyes looking far more down as to where your eyes actually are.

he tugs at your arm, forcing you to turn around.

"you wear it like this," he murmurs, his breath warm against your ear as he ties the final knot.

for a moment, neither of you move. you stand there, wrapped in the layers of the kimono, yet still feeling bare under his gaze.

you crane your neck, trying to find your voice. "is... is it done?"

he leans in slightly, his lips curling into a smirk you can't see but practically hear, "it's done." he says, but his tone suggests something that makes your stomach flip.

you jump off the bed with excitement, barely noticing how sukuna stays in the room, leaning against the wall with his arms crossed, watching you like a hawk. you rush to the mirror, standing directly in front of him as you twirl and admire the kimono he helped you into.

"oh my god!" you squeal, smoothing your hands over the silk. "sukuna, it's so beautiful!" you spin around, trying to catch every angle, oblivious to sukuna's sharp gaze. the fabric clings to your body in all the right places, and the obi hugs your waist tightly, making you feel elegant. the two empty lower arm sleeves are bound to your sides like a belt, showing off your curves just perfectly.

he says nothing, his presence heavy behind you as you admire yourself in the mirror. as you glance at your reflection, you catch sight of him, standing there, watching you. your breath hitches. sukuna, in his full, intimidating looks, stands behind you, his eyes locked on your form — he almost looks at you as if you're his prey.

and for some sickening reason, you clench your thighs as some warmth spurts through your body, resting inbetween your legs and leaving you to hold back a moan.

you've never been this desperately horny. you wanted to scream, cry, really, but that was not an option now.

and then it hits you — harder than it ever has before. looking at him, the way his body towers behind you, the way he watches you without saying a word, something snaps inside. your eyes flick back to his reflection in the mirror, and you notice every detail — the sharpness of his jaw, the ripple of muscle beneath his exposed skin, the way his four eyes bore into you like they're seeing everything you're oh so desperately try to hide. your body reacts instinctively, betraying you as a slow heat starts to pool in your lower stomach.

you've felt attraction before, but nothing like this — nothing this overwhelming, this sudden. it's like your body's on fire, every nerve heightened, every breath feeling heavier. the tension in the room thickens, your heart races, and before you know it, you're biting your lip, staring at him longer than you should, admiring his heavy muscles and his sharp features.

and sukuna watches you like a predator, and he's annoyed. he wonders why you're playing with him, why you're acting so oblivious — that is until he glances at your expression, finding those innocent eyes of yours. only then does he get it. he understands that you're simply unaware, a complete idiot.

"you're a complete idiot."

you blink, confused by his sudden statement. turning around to face him, you tilt your head, "what? why am I—"

"you really don't get it, do you?" sukuna's tone is low, almost raspy.

"what are you talking about?" you frown, genuinely lost.

sukuna huffs in frustration, his lower eyes narrowing as his upper pair stays fixed on you. "don't act stupid, brat. you think I can't feel it?"

huh?

"you think I'm not aware of every little reaction you have?"

every reaction?

your breath catches in your throat, and you swallow hard. "I don't—"

"you're aroused," he says bluntly, cutting you off. "and you think it's not obvious? you think I wouldn't notice when your body and soul practically scream at me?"

your face flushes with embarrassment, heat pooling in your cheeks. "I—I'm not—" you stammer, but the words die in your throat. you can't deny the way your body feels—warm, sensitive, on edge.

he steps closer, and you take an instinctive step back, your mind racing to process what he's saying. "you're aroused," he repeats, all of his eyes fixated on your every move, "and with us bound together.."

he stops.

you look up.

he blinks.

you blink back.

"...oh."

"that's why it's hitting you so hard."

not only did sukuna's presence alone make you horny, but you also just found out that his presence adds to the fucking effect of feeling like this. he enhances it. and you'd lie if you'd say that this didn't irritated you for one bit.

sukuna seems to notice your frown and your furrowed eyebrows, to which he scoffs, obviously annoyed.

"you think I'm not affected too?" his voice is low now, almost a growl. "you think being bound to you doesn't mean I can feel every shift, every spike in your hormones? when you're like this, brat, it hits me too. but you... you're too stupid to even realize it."

you gaze at the curse, and only then do you notice how his fists are clenched, his muscles all tense.. he wears a frown on his stomach-mouth aswell.. and..

the bulge.

you grow red — oh fuck. okay you may actually feel bad now, you're doing this to him too.

"I didn't know..." you manage to say, your voice barely a whisper.

"of course you didn't." sukuna spits, his expression unreadable, "humans are so clueless. you're.. hormonal, and that makes things complicated."

you can barely breathe. you don't know what to say, your mind racing with the realization of how deeply you made him suffer too. you bite your lip, trying to regain your composure.

sukuna steps even closer, "pathetic," he mutters, looking you up and down, "you can't even handle your own body. it’s amusing, really."

"I..." you try to speak, but you can't seem to find the right words. you twitch and your thighs clench together instinctively. your body is betraying you, and there's no way to hide it from him.

"tch," he clicks his tongue, "go on."

and for what feels like the millionth time of the day, you perk up at him, tilting your head in confusion.

he sighs, annoyed.

"ask for it."

"ask for what?"

"stupid brat, I could give your body the satisfaction it desires, but I'm getting second thoughts now that you can't even catch up on this."

your heart simmers, your eyes go wide — he's willing to help you.

it would be disrespectful to refuse on his offer, right?

after all, it's not everyday the king of curses offers his help, let alone offer to fuck you. you've been suffering under this constant pressure of needing something inbetween your legs, and you can imagine that he also needs some release, some kind of physical pleasure. it's just something that'll help you out mutually. you both get something out of this, and it's not because you desire it, it's because you need it. it's not like you want sukuna to bend you over and use those two weapons you've been thinking about ever since that shower. the way those monsters brushed your mere skin left you shivering at the thought of them co-existing with you—

ah who are you kidding.

"fuck me, please."

surprisingly, that's all it took. he grunts, his eyes lazily darting up and down your form before he throws you over his shoulder, leaving you a squealing mess.

"quit your squirming, woman. I am giving you what you wanted."

"w-wait— 'kuna I- I don't know if I'm ready!—" you cry out as he throws you on top of the bed, his shirt already getting ripped off of him. he stares at you. you truly think he's doing this to get himself off, and that without even giving you a proper preparation.

hasn't he showed you his gratitude after all these weeks of being nothing but a domestic curse living alongside of you?

letting you cuddle yourself up to him, feeding him, bathing with him, joking around with him and you still think he'd do that to you?

sure, maybe back in the heian era where he used to have concubines this would be an option, but you're too soft for this. you're too soft for his own liking, and yet, he can't help but use every opportunity to touch you.

"I'm not taking you unprepared, if that's what you're hinting at." he speaks lowly, sending shivers down your spine as you find his eyes watching you closely.

you whine, finding yourself unconsciously spreading your legs and leaning back on your elbows. a moment of relief hits you at his words, making you fall back into the pillow, sighing and relaxing.

that's until you feel warm air against your cunt. you yelp, jumping out of your relaxed position, but his upper arms prevent you from doing so. he pins you down, and you find his face just a few inches away from your clothed cunt. embarassment rushes over you and you try to squirm away, but that's no use.

he seems to have given up at trying to calm you down, so he continues with his actions — it's only after a few seconds when you feel his face pressed into your pussy, his nose brushing your folds and, to your humiliation, your wetness coming in contact with him. the mere silk of the kimono is something you'd barely call coverage.

you kick your legs whilst bucking your hips, but he's faster to react. in just a few moments you've switched positions and he's beneath you. your legs straddle his stomach and it takes you a short while to realize what exactly spurts the weirdly wet, warm feeling in between your thighs.

"aahh!- 'k-kuna!—" you whimper, but that's no use as his hands come to loosen the little bit of cloth that was holding his kimono in place. he exposes every bit of your front, the silk falling down your shoulders and creating an opening to get a glimpse of your pussy. you whine, blushing.

you feel it before you see it — his tongue slithers out of the slit on his stomach, lapping at your cunt without any warning. yelping, you fall forward, holding into sukuna's chest. "sukuna!-" you look up at him only to find the nastiest grin he's ever worn.

you moan, hiding your face in his chest, resisting the urge to kiss, nibble and lick all over him. god how much you want to— fuckfuckfuck.

you're not sure which, but one of his hands come to lift your chin, "none of that." he scolds, his tongue properly wetting your cunt with his saliva. you whimper, hopelessly trying to hold yourself propped up on his front as his tongue digs deeper into your folds. the muscle teases your entrance, and god forbid, it's huge. you've been worrying so much about taking his dicks to the point where you've forgotten that he still has this.

before the panic can get to you, the tongue does. it enters you, and the curse beneath you grunts. you cry out a strings of 'slowdownslowdown—' which goes ignored by the large man.

"y-you're so fucking tight, brat. stop clenching and let me prepare you properly." despite the lack of conversation you two had during this, he has grown obsessed over your taste. he has had enough concubines — yeah, he rarely really did something, but none of them were this addicting. he only gave them a prep to make the actual sex more enjoyable, after all, even the king of curses likes to have his dick in something that's wet and ready for him. however, as his tongue dumbs you down, swirling inside of you as if trying to lick the remaining ice cream in a cup, he finds himself quite content with this alone.

"hhhahhh- 'ss- good!" you moan, having lost your ability to talk normally.

"'kuna, k-ngh! 'm gonna- c-cum!"

"not yet."

a pinch of panic rushes through your body. not yet? do you look like you can hold in a literal orgasm?

"'k-ngh mmh- thas not how it haaah woorks!—"

"quit talking and focus." a demand. and you out of all people should know not to disobey the ryomen sukuna.

however, for someone who wanted you to hold back a release, his tongue curled inside of you, sending a shudder through you. you cry out as he thrusts harder inside of you, the sounds that echo through the room leaving you a blushing mess. the loud wet, squelching, nasty — even if he wont show it, the demon eats like this could be his last meal.

and just as you thought that you couldn't hold it in anymore — just as you thought you might've had to disobey sukuna — his chest rumbled, signaling you that he was about to talk, "now."

you cry out as your orgasm hits you, hard. It leaves you a quivering mess as you gush all over sukuna's mouth, basically feeding him. he groans, his tongue working you through your high.

the curse feeds off of your cum, your moans, the taste of your sickly sweet skin — he doesn't stop, not when you're moaning his name as if he were an angel, and he couldn't help but wonder—

why?

he forced the panic out of you, scaring you if you'd get the idea to disobey him. he teased you, his tongue filling your walls and stretching you beyond possibility. and he refused to stop after you came, overstimulating you with ease.

and yet, you were sobbing as you spoke your thank you's, praising him as if he just solved a world issue.

"than— hic thank you!- t-thank you s-somuch-" you cry, hugging him with your face pressed into his chest.

"what are you thanking me for, brat?" he murmurs, his arms wrapping around your shivering, naked form.

"y-hhmm you m-made m' feel so good- thank you— thank you!" you moan, his wet muscle moving out of you.

truthfully, he thought you were pathetic. why would you thank someone like him? have you got no survival instincts — being in the bed with the king of curses, who in fact, should be feared beyond nightmares. he thinks you're lucky that he's here, otherwise you'd be used in ways your dumb mind wouldn't comprehend.

you're lucky he's here, really. he'll keep you safe.

"pathetic. you don't think I'm done with you, do you?" to his surprise, you nod your head, completely submissive under his gaze. "you.. you n-need to.. need this too. I haa- I w'nna help you too.."

he stiffens beneath you, and a part of him wishes to take you right then and there — to bend you over and stuff you full with his cocks, to make you show some more of your gratitude, to show that you need him just as bad. but the other part knows that you'd just break like a piece of glass.

he figures he'll take it slow with you, make sure you're ready for him.

he switches your positions, placing you with your back against the mattress, your legs spread and your slick dripping into the sheets. you whine, the cold breeze hitting your cunt.

he licks your pussy one more time before taking off his black sweats, grunting something about 'stupid human clothing'.

"y-you're not wearing any boxers?!"

"what'd be the purpose of that?" he scoffs, his dicks hard and leaking pre-cum.

has he been holding these two monsters back all the time? wouldn't that be painful?

you watch as he strokes his cocks, and only then does the fear rise —

"I can't—"

"you will."

you whine, bucking your hips, but he only pins you back against the surface with his lower arms, the tip of his top cock nudging against your clit. a moan leaves your throat, "'kuna! s-sukuna!"

the sudden sensation of his lower dick getting bullied inside your hole leaves you screaming, clutching into sukuna's biceps. he doesn't ask for it, but you make sure to thank him each time he stuffs an inch into you — and he loves it. he loves the way you're writhing and wailing, and you still show your gratitude — his upper dick is leaking more cum, coming in contact with your clit. he uses his right upper arm to hold both of you pinned over your head, his left arm kneading your breasts, flicking your nipple. you whimper.

"f-fuck- brat, y're too fucking tight."

you mewl in response, unconsciously clenching tighter around his girth. "y-y're so big suku- haaah!—" you yelp as he adds a few more inches, and you almost cry in frustration because, fuck, he still wasn't fully in yet.

suddenly, his lips are on yours. he's kissing you roughly, teeth clashing against each other as his tongue gets forced down your throat — he shamelessly delivers his saliva past your lips—

with one harsh, painful thrust, he fills you until he's balls deep, his tip nudging the deepest parts of you whilst his other dick strokes your clit. you cry out, everything becoming too much.

"fuckin'— shit!" ryomen sukuna doesn't deserve heaven. it's not like he ever wanted it either. he has his fun, his peace and his moments which all include destroying and killing, but shit he'd be lying if he'd say he didn't feel the best right now. the way your walls clench around his dick, your small hands trying to find comfort in him by holding into his muscles, your moans and cries of his name, it's too good to be true.

he bottoms out, pulling back until his tip grazes over your entrance before slamming into you again, making you sob in euphoria. he thrusts harshly, stretching you open — and when he notices you struggling, his grunts, positioning his hand over your clit.

you're too fucked out to try to understand why he'd leave his palm above your clit, but fortunately, you get your answer right away. the skin on his hand moves, forming a slit before a mouth appears. it wastes no time sucking on your clit, and your knuckles turn white as you mewl and sob, your words now incoherent.

"s'kuna- nghh- a-am I good?"

your sudden question brings him to slow down and you whine like the pathetic slut you are — he scoffs, getting right back to his earlier pace. "what? you want praise now?"

you shake your head, bucking your hips up to him, "'know 'm not a-as ha- as good as your- concubines, b..but am I- hic good enough?"

he wanted to smack you for even thinking such thing. good enough? are you being good enough when you allow the demon to experience the feeling of heaven? are you being good enough when your cunt flutters around him, causing him to hold back his gasps? are you being good enough when you're thanking him for getting his own pleasure by using you?

instead of a reply, you earn a long, hard and harsh thrust, sending your whole body into a short state of shock as you clench your thighs around him, your slick dripping down the sheets.

"don't know, brat. are you being good enough? tell me, are you a good girl?" he purrs, his pace quickening, "are you being a good whore when you're letting me use this cunt?" the palm on your pussy presses down harder, making you gasp as you feel your clit getting crushed, "are you being a good girl when you're thanking me each time I touch you?" he stills his hips for a moment once he's all the way in before pounding into you mercilessly, "I ought t-to- punish you for even thinking like this, but judging by your state, you'd be too cockdrunk to differentiate pain from pleasure, isn't that right, sweetheart?"

you moan loudly, feeling the familiar warm coil in cour abdomen as you squirm beneath him, to which you earn a slap against your poor clit. you yelp, his hand now being used as a punishment instead of a pleasure-tool.

"good girls answer when getting asked a question."

"y-yes! haa- yes 'kuna! f..fuck please, 'm gonna cum!"

"go on, then."

with his blessing, you cum on spot, drenching his dick in your orgasm as he keeps going, his thrusts now sloppier. he grunts, your walls closening in on him — he's close as well. with one, deep, last thrust, he pulls out, jerking himself off until spurts of his cum paint your abdomen white. he groans, keeping it going until he milked himself dry.

you try to catch your own breath as sukuna stares at your form. you look so messy, ruined by him personally, your mixed releases all over the bedsheets. looking at you like that, he can't help but..

"a-ahh! n-no! off- off!" you scold as you squirm away from his touch — he attempted to push some of his cum inside your leaking hole — he couldn't help himself. you looked so pretty being covered in his cum, you'd probably do even better if it was inside of you too!

he scoffs in annoyance, rolling his eyes, "alright brat, calm down.." he mumbles, laying down next to you and moving you to sprawl across his chest.

you can't say you're not surprised. sukuna rarely shows that he cares, so this is.. not entirely new to you, but definitely heart warming.

you nuzzle your head into his chest.

"sukuna?"

"brat."

"you said you'll never love, right?"

he hums, the rumble sending comfort through your body. you sigh, relaxing farther into him.

"do you do this, though?" you yawn, referring to everything you've done together, your relationship, the moments you shared, the constant bickering, the touch, the cuddles—

he stills.

ryomen sukuna doesn't love, no. he hasn't, is, and never will love. it's worthless, it's stupid, and it's a form of weakness. he does what and when he feels like it, because that's what he can do.

ryomen sukuna doesn't love, but his heart feels fuzzy everytime you sit on his lap to feed him some of your homemade cooking.

ryomen sukuna doesn't love, but he enjoys it everytime you cuddle up to him on a movie night.

ryomen sukuna doesn't love, but he hates it everytime he watches gojo come closer to you — he's the one bound to you, not that stupid brat.

ryomen sukuna doesn't love, but he's glad that he's attached to you. without him, you'd be a lost case. you're too nice for your own good.

ryomen sukuna doesn't love, but he longs to stuff you full of him, just so everyone who dares to touch you can see that you're already claimed by him.

ryomen sukuna doesn't love, but he promises to protect you on his own, and if he ever shall regain full power and find a point in making the world to his bitch, then you'll be the queen who should be seated on his lap whilst your requests and wishes all get fullfilled one after another.

ryomen sukuna doesn't love.

"I suppose."

"okay then, I love-not-love you, 'kuna."

"you're pathetic."

you snort, finally giving in into your eyelids which have been fighting to stay awake for the whole conversation.

and within a minute, you're drifting off to sleep, leaving the curse alone with his thoughts.

ryomen sukuna doesn't love.

"..I love you, too."

a/n: I really hope this part came out okay. I kinda rushed it at the end and the whole thing is kinda sloppy. trust, I'm trying to improve my writing😞

masterlist

Taglist: @purp1eha1o @csolya

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warnings: nsfw🔞, doctor/patient, gynecologist geto, pervy geto, dub con, medical kink, sexual misconduct, this is a long one~

“doctor geto will be in momentarily,” the nurse nods at you politely before slipping out of the room quietly.

you breathe out deeply in attempt to calm your nerves, turning away from the door to gaze at the tiled ceiling. the cheap gown you had to change into crinkles at every breath, only working to raise your nerves even further. it doesn’t help that you’re completely naked underneath, you even tried to keep your panties on at the very least but the nurse explained that they’d be taken off eventually anyways. you assume removing them on your own is preferable compared to having them ripped off of you by a doctor you’ve never met before.

you’ve always avoided the gynecologist, having heard horror stories from friends and family, and you were successful for twenty two years of your life— until now. apparently you were due for your first check up at twenty one, the recommended age for women to start getting checked, but you had dodged it when your primary physician recommended it.

but after a very bad, unsuccessful attempt at losing your virginity, you figured it’s time to make sure everything is okay down there. your face still burns when the awkward memory of your date attempting to push his cock into you for almost an hour and ultimately failing flashes within your mind. you can still hear him mutter, ‘i like tight but that’s just not normal.’

three brief knocks to the door snap you out of your nervous daze and you shoot upright, gown and protective sheet under you crinkling obnoxiously with your movement.

after a respectful moment, you clear your throat and put on a polite tone.

“come in!” and you cringe at the sound of your shaky voice as the door clicks open.

your face drains of blood when a tall, dark haired man slips in, wearing a long white doctors coat. you had almost thought he was a woman because of the long length of his hair but it quickly became obvious that‘s not the case due to his features and large form.

immediately he smiles in a respectful manner before turning to the sink in the corner to wash his hands.

“hello, y/n. how are you today?”

you’re incredibly stiff as you eye him sanitize his hands, silently racing through possible excuses you could use to get out of this. sure, you were a bit apprehensive about this whole thing before but you were willing to try— that is until a man walked in. you figured men weren’t even allowed in this profession considering the obvious, most not having the same genitalia, but apparently you were heavily mistaken because he has that natural bulge in his dress pants indicating he most definitely doesn’t have a vagina. you have no idea how this could be appropriate.

“um yes, good,” you trail off, blinking rapidly as he swivels the stool closer in front of you and settles onto it with a satisfied grunt, manspreading seemingly comfortably. “are you the uh- doctor?”

he hums with a nod and gently gestures to his name tag reading, ‘dr. geto.’

now your head spins, thighs pushing closed as tightly as possible while you unintentionally clench the white sheet under you.

he seems to notice your nervousness, though he had already picked up on it even before he entered the room—having seen you tapping your foot in the waiting area. he understands that it’s perfectly natural to be anxious before an appointment like this, especially as a young woman. according to your patient intake form, this is your first time at the gynecologist, your first time in this particular clinic, and your first time meeting him— so it makes sense. but still, your anxiety seems to exceed what he usually sees in his patients under these circumstances.

so he wears a face of concern as he addresses you.

“is everything okay?”

immediately you chuckle, nervously and avoid his intimidating eye contact. it certainly doesn’t help that he’s so attractive.

“i just,” you gulp, “-thought i’d have a woman doctor.”

his concerned face relaxes into an understanding one as he clasps his hands together professionally between his legs with his forearms resting on his upper thighs.

“ah, i see. i apologize for the misunderstanding, this is actually my clinic so i’m the only doctor here. you’re welcome to find another clinic you’re more comfortable with, but i would like to say that i’m a professional and you have nothing to worry about if you decide to stay.”

“oh! i um- don’t doubt your professionalism, i’ve just never done this before and..” you drift into silence, eyes flickering up at him briefly as a harsh heat litters your cheeks and neck.

“completely understandable to be nervous for your first time, but i assure you, you have nothing to worry about. i’ve seen many, many bodies on that very bed, and i’m quite used to it.” he smiles, comfortingly and though his words are meant to ease you, they do the opposite. they only work to remind you of the imminent threat of baring your naked lower half to the attractive man in front of you.

as if sensing your rising nerves, he speaks again.

“why don’t we just start with some questions? we don’t need to do an examination unless you want to.”

you sigh in relief and nod timidly, shoulders relaxing as you let go of the paper underneath you. though it’s still nerve wracking to tell him about why you’re here, it’s much less intimidating than the stirrups beside you.

a smile grows on his face as you nod and he claps his hands together gently in preparation.

“great. let’s start with why you’re here today— a regular check up or do you have a specific issue?”

you gulp, fingers fiddling in your lap. “well i have an issue, i guess.”

he hums and nods to urge you on as he adopts a focused expression.

“i’m worried i have some sort of- i don’t know- infection maybe?”

“i see. are you having symptoms?” he questions as you grapple with the vulnerability of this.

“uh- not exactly. i had a,” you pause as your gaze flickers up at the ceiling in attempt to explain the situation without exposing the whole embarrassing picture, “—situation. i can’t get something big inside of me.”

a moment of silence follows, and you anxiously glance back at his face, worrying that you might not be normal and that this is an unusual issue for him to encounter with patients.

he inhales as he briefly squints in slight confusion.

“i’m sorry— you said you can’t get something big inside of you? are you having intercourse problems?” geto remembers seeing on your intake form that you’re a virgin so he’s assuming when you first tried to have sex, he couldn’t put it in.

you inhale sharply with parted lips as if thinking on what to say, “yes.”

he hums and nods. “i think i understand. just to be clear, your partner— i’m guessing a man—hasn’t been able to penetrate you?”

“mhm. i’m just nervous that maybe something is wrong with me,” you mutter timidly, eyes nervously tracing his face, “i-is this not common?”

immediately he holds his hands up as to comfort you. “well, first of all i’d like to be clear that there’s likely nothing wrong with you. i can’t say i’ve had many patients with this problem but that doesn’t mean i can’t help.”

you chew on the inside of your cheek as you shyly nod.

“is this an issue of lack of lubrication maybe?” he questions with concentration and an obvious genuine desire to help you. as a man, geto knows how most other men are, your ‘partner’ who’s probably as young and naive as you are, likely doesn’t know how to turn you on correctly, doesn’t know the places that make you dripping wet like you need to be for penetration— especially for a virgin.

immediately, you flush even harsher. “oh, i don’t— i’m not completely sure. i don’t think so.” it’s not as if you were soaking wet when you had tried to have sex but you weren’t dry either.

“okay, maybe it’s a not an issue with you. was he able to hold an erection?” he inquires, rolling his sleeves up to his elbows. he thinks it’s much more likely that this guy is the problem, maybe he got too nervous and chickened out before he could even get it in you.

“no, he was hard— i think,” you mumble, recalling the size of his dick was smaller than you imagined it would be. and if geto wasn’t such a trained professional, maybe you’d be able to tell he almost laughed at that.

“hmm, okay. may i ask if you use tampons? if so, is it painful?” he inquires, gently, growing worried that maybe something else is happening here.

“no, not painful really— i mean, maybe a little?” you sigh, unsure and a bit frustrated at your inability to aid the doctor efficiently. tampons are uncomfortable but you’re not sure if it’s an unusual level of discomfort.

“please, feel free to let me know if you’re uncomfortable with answering but it will aid your diagnosis if you can.” he briefs you, as if warning you for the next question gently.

you take a deep breath and nod, making him dart his tongue out briefly as if to prepare.

“do you masterbate?” he asks as if it’s a natural inquiry, and for him it probably is. your stomach tingles in nerves and surprise at the question.

your face heats up as you hesitate.

“kind of,” you shrug, noncommittally as if trying to avoid being too direct with your response. geto’s dealt with his fair share of shy patients, and by now, he's fluent in the 'maybe' and 'sort of' answers—yours being a clear yes.

“that’s very good,” he praises you with a deep tone, making you chew on the inside of your cheek, feet fidgeting against one another as you avoid direct eye contact. “it’s very healthy to bring yourself to orgasm as often as you can.”

you give him a smile that feels mandatory, it immaturely feels as if he knows something secret about you now as he gazes at you for a beat.

“when you masterbate, do you just touch? or do you penetrate yourself?” as his gentle, deep tone utters the word penetrate, you gulp, his eyes dancing down to flicker at your small fingers fidgeting against one another.

you nod stiffly with eyes on the floor. “both.”

“with—?” he trails off, head tilting a bit in attempt to observe your reaction to gauge your answer.

“my fingers,” you timidly explain, quickly brushing a piece of your hair behind your ear in a nervous habit.

“okay,” geto hums a chuckle, making your eyes dart up at him in question, “that’s great, really great.”

before you can ask why that’s so great with furrowed brows, he inhales deeply and his eyes lock back on you.

“and does this bring you to orgasm?” he asks gently, oddly comfortingly.

you can’t help but laugh awkwardly in a sort of nervous habit, making his grin grow in tandem to your laughing.

“is that funny?” he coos in amusement, as if playfully questioning a cat about the thrill of knocking over a glass.

you immediately shake your head no with a concealed immature smile.

“sorry—”

“—don’t apologize,” he interrupts your obviously casual apology as if it were a serious one, “it can be awkward to discuss things like this, i acknowledge that. especially with a man twice your age, just act like i’m one of your friends.”

you gulp, your obvious naivety feeling much more pronounced now that he’s reminded you of your difference in maturity.

“okay. how um— specific do you want me to be?”

his response is immediate, “as specific as you’re comfortable with. the more information, the better.”

you inhale deeply and squint at the ceiling as you think on it.

“well, i can cu— orgasm easier when i play wit— i mean stimulate my clit,” you stumble over your words, nervously.

he hums slowly, making the humiliation you already feel grow within yourself.

“how often do you play with yourself?” he asks, and for a moment, your eyes widen, fully aware that he’s using the exact words you were hesitant to say, afraid they’d come off as inappropriate.

you bite your lower lip subtly, briefly glancing at the floor. having to recall such intimate details while an attractive man with those sharp eyes watches you—it’s impossible not to squeeze your thighs together under the weight of the topic.

you remind yourself it’s silly to think this way—he’s a trained doctor, just doing his job, trying to innocently help a young girl. but still, you can’t shake the feeling— no man has ever asked you about something so intimate with such focus, as if he genuinely wants to understand what brings you to that intense high of pleasure.

you know it’s all in your head, that he’s actually being professional, yet a small part of you wonders if his role as a doctor ever follows him home. does he recall the patient who can only reach orgasm while playing with their nipples as he makes dinner? or does he keep those details neatly tucked away, never letting them blur the lines of his professionalism?

your gaze shoots up to him when he gently calls your name, pulling you out of your thoughts to check if you’re okay.

“oh sorry,” you huff sharply as you shake your head briefly, “maybe four times a week, it helps me sleep.”

“i see,” he clears his throat, adjusting on the stool briefly, “and how long does it take you to reach orgasm when you’re playing with your clit?”

you press your palms against your face, trying to mask your embarrassment as you avoid his gaze for a moment, the weight of his question hanging in the air, making you swallow hard.

“i dont really know,” you mumble, “i guess it depends on how uh— into it i am. sometimes five minutes, sometimes twenty.”

“that’s perfectly normal,” he smiles and allows for a beat, making you nod back in acknowledgement.

“does it hurt when you use your fingers inside?” he asks, making you hum in thought.

“sometimes,” you shrug, shyly.

then he takes a deep breath as if preparing to explain something to you. “well, it’s quite difficult to know for sure without an exam but there is a condition called vaginismus where the muscles around the vagina tighten involuntarily, making penetration difficult or painful.”

immediately you gulp and your brows pinch in worry. geto thinks you’re such a sweet girl, it pains him to worry you.

“i-is there a cure for that? if i have that, will i never be able to have sex?” you question eagerly, the embarrassment of speaking such words fizzle into worry for your wellbeing.

"don’t worry, there are effective treatments available to alleviate symptoms if that’s truly what the problem is but to diagnose you and or treat it will all require me to examine as well as—touch your vaginal area,” he explains with slight sympathy, seeing how your expression changes into one of terror as he speaks.

“fuck,” you mutter to yourself, hands running down your face in preparation, “okay, fine. just help me, please.”

the idea of never being able to have sex like a normal person scares you— not to mention the fear and embarrassment of having to tell any boyfriends in the future about your potential condition before dating. even though this doctor is a man and in retrospect, you could find another place with a woman doctor, that might take a few days to verify with your insurance before even booking an appointment. you’re sure this condition isn’t time sensitive for treatment based on what he said but you aren’t sure if you can sleep tonight without knowing what’s wrong with you.

he smiles kindly. “great, i understand this may be uncomfortable, but please know that i’ll prioritize your comfort and provide the highest level of care. you can trust me.”

you exhale shakily and nod with a small, polite smile.

“um- do i just,” you stutter, gesturing towards the stirrups and leaning back on your palms awkwardly.

he huffs softly in amusement but cuts himself off. “i know the stirrups can be intimidating so lets just start with lying back and relaxing.”

you nod with a shaky sigh as you lie back, your calves and feet dangling off the edge, staring up at the dull, off-white ceiling once again. before he approaches you, you hear him opening a cabinet and grabbing something from it.

he then approaches your side, adjusting the bed so that it raises a bit considering he’s so tall. he then slides out a foot rest that elongates the bed, gently picking up your calves and aiding in placing them down on it so you’re lying flat.

“i’m going to start with checking your blood pressure, heart rate, all that boring stuff,” he lightly jokes with a silly, kind smile making you huff despite your anxiety.

you watch as he proceeds to un velcro the blood pressure cuff, hold it with one hand, and then lay the other hand on your covered thigh. “this doohickey goes around your upper thigh, unfortunately it’s more accurate that way. is that okay?”

it’s evident he’s trying to make the situation more comfortable by calling the blood pressure cuff a ‘doohickey’ while mentioning that he needs to expose your upper thigh for this.

“o-oh, i guess,” you stutter, gaze flickering down nervously.

“great,” he smiles before gently sliding the hem of the gown up his finger tips leaving goosebumps in their wake, making you snap a hand down onto your covered pussy to keep the gown in place with a gulp.

he simply smiles down at you, eyes eerily intense as he gives you a moment to hold the gown down with fluster.

“good, keep your hand there,” he says as if he was the one to suggest it.

he then gently wraps his hand around the back of your knee and lifts it to a bent position.

“how old are you, y/n?” he questions, obviously just making small talk considering he already knows your age from your intake form.

he then secures the cuff around the upper part of your thigh, brushing his cold hands against the cuff and, inadvertently, your surrounding skin, causing your thigh to clench briefly.

you clear your throat and blink, “i’m twenty- two.”

then he begins to pump the pressure cuff, making you slightly grimace at the pressure.

“i’m surprised you haven’t had an exam yet,” he voices, eyes on the meter with a respectful, gentle smile still on his face as he concentrates.

“oh, i just— get nervous, i guess.” you shrug as he stops pumping and squints his eyes at the meter.

“that’s unfortunate, it’s important to get annual checkups for prevention,” he says, slim eyes flickering at you briefly. he says it in a tone that clearly conveys his professional expertise, yet carries a hint of amusement, like a parent gently reminding their child about the importance of good behavior in public.

“i know, i’ll try to be better about it,” you say shyly as he begins to slowly pull off the cuff, making sure to briefly rub against the indents it created in your skin. you can’t help but inhale sharply at the feeling of his large warm hands basically massaging your upper thigh, so close to your most intimate areas.

“good, feel okay?” he asks with concern, referring to your upper thigh.

“mhm, totally fine,” you say, politely making him take his hand away from you.

he then makes his way to the cabinets in the corner and starts rummaging through it once again, seemingly looking for something.

your brows furrow as he sighs and makes his way back to your side, placing one large palm against the middle of your thigh.

“unfortunately, my silly nurse forgot to order the new medical grade stethoscopes so if it’s okay with you, i can use my hand. it’s probably more efficient this way anyways,” he asks you. his tone is so gentle and sweet that it’s just impossible to say no, after all what’s the harm, he’s a doctor.

“sure, whatever works,” you nod, making him smile in gratitude.

in a professional manner, he extends his hand and places it flat against the left side of your chest. his large hand covers most of the area, pressing down on your left breast, causing you to feel a surge of embarrassment and look away from his gaze. you glance at the door nervously as he presses into your breast slowly and with pressure. the act makes you feel as though you’re doing something wrong or taboo. if one of his nurses were to walk in right now, you wouldn’t know what to do.

he then hums in a conflicted manner after a moment, making your gaze flicker to his face in question.

“i can’t feel your heart through this pesky gown,” he sighs, making your heart rate immediately skyrocket at the insinuation. he seems to notice your nerves.

“oh, don’t worry, you can keep the gown on. i can just reach under if you’re comfortable with it? i’ll be quick,” he asks in a kind, professional way that makes you feel as though he’s genuine. still, you can’t help but feel hesitant.

“oh, i don’t— um— is it really necessary?” you ask nervously, chewing on the inside of your cheek with pinched brows.

“well, it’s important to make sure your heart is healthy and beating in a natural way,” he explains, kindly.

you fall silent, knowing that if he feels your heartbeat under the gown, his large hand is bound to directly touch your left breast. the thought is nerve-wracking—maybe in movies, this would be a fantasy scenario, but in real life, the idea of it is anything but romantic; it’s frightening.

“you know what? let me ask my nurse if we have any old stethoscopes,” he says after a few moments of your silence, attempting to comfort you.

you nod gently with a sigh in brief relief and he begins to walk to the door.

he peeks his head out and calls over his nurse.

“do we have any of our old stethoscopes in storage maybe?”

you can’t hear the nurses response but you can assume it’s not good news because doctor geto sighs, although he’s naturally soft in his demeanor and tone, you can tell he’s frustrated with his nurse.

“first not ordering the new ones in time and now this? at this point, i should just hire a monkey to do your job.”

his words shock you, you can’t help but feel sympathy for the nurse as they respond to him. in fact, you feel so guilty that you gulp before calling doctor geto’s name.

hearing your call, he turns to you with a kind smile.

“yes?”

“uhm actually— i change my mind. you can do it under the gown. it’s no big deal,” you stutter, wearing a face of faux nonchalance. in retrospect, maybe you should have held your ground and refused to let him do as he pleases, doctor or not, but it does seem a bit silly to care all that much about your breast when he’s going to be face to face with your pussy soon enough.

immediately, he blinks at you with raised brows in slight surprise.

“are you sure? i can try to find something else or—”

“—no, no. it’s really okay,” you interrupt him, adding a casual huff to add to your calm persona.

“oh great, i deeply apologize for the inconvenience,” he smiles at you, pinched brows in a slight pout as if he feels sympathy for you.

you nod and shrug as to wave off his apology.

then, he shuts the door, not even notifying his nurse before making his way back to hover over your side.

he then carefully and slowly slips his hand beneath your gown through the neckline. you shiver at his touch that trails to your left breast. his gaze is locked on nothing in particular in the distance, attempting to concentrate.

your brows twitch and your lips part slightly as he gently feels around the fat of your breast with his fingers, pressing into the area where he believes your heart is, searching for the spot where he can feel it most clearly. though you’re trying so hard to keep your heartbeat at a normal rate, your attempt seems to do the opposite, making it skyrocket. considering the anxiety of the uncomfortably bright room with a hot male gynecologist who’s hand is down your shirt, it’s not completely ridiculous that it’s a bit faster than normal.

you notice his addams’s apple bob when your nipple brushes against his cold finger. you on the other hand, can’t help but gasp shallowly and sharply, jolting a bit at the sensitivity.

“you okay?” he questions, as if he doesn’t even know why you reacted that way while your nipples rapidly begin to harden from the chilly friction.

“yeah- yes. of course,” you nervously jut out, attempting to take advantage of his ignorance to avoid the embarrassment and his gaze.

he hums before taking a few moments to push into a specific area of your breast to listen to your heartbeat and record the amount of beats per minute.

after a minute of silence, he hums. “are you nervous? your heart beat is quite high— 130 beats,” he questions with concern, allowing a moment for his hand to rest on your bare chest as if he’s attempting to comfort you before sliding it out.

“sorry, yes,” you mumble, trying to ignore the fact that your nipples are likely poking through the gown.

“hmm. though quite fast, i’d say your heart rate is perfectly normal. blood pressure is fine too,” he offers you a kind smile as he gently slides the extended part of the bed back in, leaving your calves and feet dangling over the edge once again.

next, he makes his way out of your sight, making you eye the annoying ceiling once again.

you fight the urge to sit up and see what he’s doing as you hear the roll of the wheeled chair, his footsteps, and the snap of latex gloves.

“have you removed your underwear?” he smoothly inquires, making you nod quickly and utter a ‘yes.’

“do you have a boyfriend, y/n?” he asks kindly, moving to stand in front of your legs now. it’s clear he’s trying to distract you in an effort to help you relax.

“boyfriend? no way,” you laugh, breathily but still quite nervous as he gently lays a gloved hand onto your outer thigh. you had barely had your first blind date the other day when this problem started, much less a boyfriend.

he lightly chuckles with you briefly. he assumes you had tried for a one night stand sort of arrangement when you ran into this little problem of yours.

“oh yeah? i’m going to put your feet into the stirrups now, okay? i apologize if it’s cold,” he voices, allowing a moment to wait for your nod before gently sliding his hand from your thigh down to wrap around your ankle. you appreciate his decency to vocalize before doing something.

you gulp as he carefully places your foot onto the stirrup, followed by the other foot. a sudden rush of cold air fans your warm folds, making you shiver as your gown rides up to your hip crease.

as he positions you, he moves to stand between your legs, and you feel the fabric of his long coat brush against the inner parts of your thighs. if he weren’t standing as close as he is, your exposed vagina would likely be quite visible to him. you can see him wearing a relaxed expression above you, watching you to ensure you’re comfortable.

he then taps the outside of your right thigh gently, causing a ripple of goosebumps to race down your leg.

“doing okay?” he asks, leaning in the smallest bit to better face you. his closeness causes you to stiffen in embarrassment.

“y-yes— mhm,” you nod quickly, attempting to fight off the heat that’s creeping up on your face and neck as you avoid his hovering gaze.

“i’m going to sit now,” he gently warns you, indicating that he will be face to face with your pussy once he sits down. you nod in acknowledgment, even though you realize he likely doesn’t see your response.

the rolling chair comes to a stop directly in front of you and as he takes a seat with a deep breath, you shut your eyes tightly and clench your fists by your side, aware that he can now see everything on full display.

“i’ll need to touch both externally and internally; is that alright with you?" he asks, prompting you to make a breathy sound in embarrassment, your eyes remaining closed in anxiety.

“oh, inside too? okay,” you gulp, stuttering over your words.

“just tell me if you’d like me to stop and i will, immediately.” he speaks professionally as he places one hand gently on the mid part of your inner thigh, the unexpected touch causing you to gasp quietly in shock despite his warnings.

“right, okay,” you exhale shakily as he moves his hand down your thigh. he then uses two fingers to gently separate your folds, exposing a glimpse of your entrance. you can only assume he trailed his hand from your thigh to your labia to considerately allow you to anticipate the touch.

“there we go, looks good so far,” he voices with lighthearted concentration. and even though you know he’s talking about your external genitalia looking healthy, his wording still makes you blush even harder— part of you assuming immediately that he means aesthetically. if the man between your legs wasn’t as attractive as he is, you likely wouldn’t react as you are.

“i’m going to press down on some areas and you tell me if it hurts, alright?”

then as soon as you mutter an affirmation, he releases your folds and gently presses two large fingers on your clit, forcing a jolt of electric arousal to briefly shoot through your body, making your thighs jerk a bit.

“d-doesn’t hurt,” you inform him as you make an effort to keep your legs open.

“great, and here?” he questions, moving his fingers down to press on the area just above your enterance opening.

your brows twitch, teeth sinking into your bottom lip to fight off the surge of heat running through you. a beat of silence ensues, attempting to calm yourself.

“uh no,” you quickly answer before your silence becomes suspicious.

you hadn’t anticipated feeling aroused during this process, especially with your friends’ accounts of the pain and discomfort from various metal contraptions that they shoved into them. however, doctor geto’s voice is undeniably soothing, not to mention he looks more like an idol than a doctor.

“excellent, and— here?” he asks again, this time pressing on the area between your pussy and your second hole.

it’s a bit uncomfortable, but you’re pretty sure that’s just because it’s an awkward area.

“no, not painful,” you explain, grimacing a bit at the feeling.

“not painful but-?” he questions, sensing your hesitance to explain further.

“um, it’s just uncomfortable. i’ve never been touched there, it feels weird,” you mutter quickly, humiliated to even admit that to him.

he huffs in a slight laugh, “okay, now i’m going to feel around your labia to feel for any abnormalities. just relax.”

immediately, you begin to blink rapidly with pinched brows as he runs two fingers through your folds, starting at your clit and sliding down to your entrance before swiping back up and repeating. with every slide of his fingers, your abdomen tightens and relaxes, while your toes curl and uncurl gently. your hips instinctively shift, responding softly to the sensations coursing through you.

“feel okay?” he asks considerately, in his cooing tone, only escalating your perversion, making you hesitantly pull your hand away from your mouth to respond.

“i-it feels g- fine, yes,” you breathe out, mentally cursing at yourself for almost admitting how good it feels.

you know this is an examination, but it’s the same type of stimulus that someone would use with the intention of pleasing you. it’s shockingly alluring and terribly taboo, making you feel equal parts shame and euphoria. you try desperately to think of anything gross or weird to turn off your rising arousal but it’s futile— maybe it would work if you weren’t so inexperienced, but you simply are.

he hums, long and soft as he continues to examine you with his large two middle fingers.

“this boy you were seeing,” he begins, barely working to pique your attention that’s glued to the way his cold gloved fingers feel against your folds, “was he able to bring you to climax with his fingers or anything else?”

your breathing deepens, eyes lidded in relaxation as you blink slowly, trying desperately to focus on answering your doctor.

“not really,” you pause to sigh deeply in relaxation, “he touched me over my panties but i didn’t cum or anything.”

your nervousness fades with each glide of his fingers, your attention shifting from the worry of saying the wrong thing to the sensations he creates. with each gentle drag, you find yourself speaking as if to a close friend, your walls crumbling as you become more absorbed in his touch.

his gaze is locked to your pretty lips, which are beginning to glisten like a flower kissed by morning dew as he brings your leaking arousal through them. he notices the way your clit is stiffening and twitching beneath his touch, a subtle sign that he should ignore. he should have moved on to the next part of the examination, but he can’t resist the allure of your hips instinctively rolling against his touch. he senses that you’re likely unaware of your own body’s response to grind against his fingers.

he emits a soft, displeased ‘tch’ at your answer, shaking his head as if disappointed in humanity.

“as your doctor, i advise being cautious with boys your age,” he speaks with a casual smoothness as you nod eagerly, eyes closed and teeth biting your lip, more a reaction to the escalating pleasure than to his words, your thoughts floating in blissful disarray. “unfortunately, they can cause some real harm to your body and lead to some serious issues.”

when you don’t answer, basically drooling in your own world, he speaks again.

“you want to ensure that your lovely anatomy remains in good health, don’t you?” he urges, his subtle compliment making your closed eyelids flutter as a tingle shoots through your lower abdomen, your back arching slightly.

you can’t tell if it’s just your imagination, but his fingers apply more pressure against the sensitive underside of your clit briefly as he speaks, sending a quick jolt of almost painful sensitivity coursing through you. it feels as though he’s intertwining his touch with the weight of his words, punishing you for your hesitation to respond and reminding you of the folly in even considering a fling with an immature guy.

you close your eyes tightly and quickly press a palm to your mouth as to not accidentally expose your perverted arousal growing impossible to ignore. the way he’s touching you so gently, its obvious he knows his way around pleasing a woman in his personal life— even if he’s simply feeling around for something potentially concerning.

“right,” you quickly babble stupidly through the muffling of your hand, “you’re right.”

it becomes painfully clear that you’re growing exceptionally wet because the squelching of your folds begins to echo loudly in the sterile room.

“it’s quite normal for your body to react to stimulus, if anything natural lubrication will aid in minimizing any potential discomfort,” he suddenly speaks on the elephant in the room, you think you can hear a hint of a smile in his tone, but you’re not certain enough to be sure. you were hoping he’d just ignore your growing wetness or even not notice it but it’s obviously too agonizingly obvious to ignore.

“i’m s-so sorry,” you mutter, mortified as you use both hands to cover your face as if that could make you disappear into them.

he chuckles deeply at your embarrassment, “it’s no problem, sweet girl. it’s normal, try to relax.”

his use of a pet name is obviously meant to ease your nerves but it only triples the amount of slick gushing out of you and being collected by his fingers to then coat your folds.

even if you wanted to respond, you don’t because you’re terrified that you’ll accidentally let a moan slip.

“i’m very glad to know lubrication isn’t the issue here, that can be quite frustrating for a patient— having to go on all kinds of pesky medications just to have sex,” he explains, and you’re barely even able to process his words so you simply hum with a frantic nod.

after a few more agonizing moments of his blissful touch, you sigh in relief and unclench your eyes when he finally halts and pulls his fingers away. saying its a relief that he halts his movements is an understatement because you’re pretty sure an orgasm was approaching in the distance if he continued the stimulus a little while longer— though you could never actually admit it to yourself.

“good news, i don’t feel anything unusual on the outside,” he gladly notifies you with a deep breath.

“o-oh that’s good,” you swallow hard, a heat creeping up your cheeks as his words hit home. you’ve been so caught up in primally chasing pleasure that you suddenly feel embarrassed for losing sight of the real reason you’re here: to make sure you’re healthy.

“i need to check internally now, which may cause some discomfort. i need you to take a deep breath and focus on my voice, okay?” he explains, a hint of sympathy in his gentle tone.

his words send your heart plummeting, the arousal quickly fading to the background as a wave of panic takes over. the thought of something unfamiliar or painful being inserted inside you becomes overwhelming, bringing back the humiliating memory of that guy’s frustrated expression when he couldn’t get his dick inside you.

“w-wait— what are you putting inside of me?” you stop him with urgency before he can even touch you again, sitting up on your elbows quickly to see, and you honestly wish you hadn’t because the sight of him between your spread thighs is horrifying and sexy all at once.

your fluster is obvious as he transfers his gaze from your pussy up to your worried face.

"it’ll just be my finger. i know this can be a bit scary," he says, placing a reassuring hand on your thigh, "—but it’s necessary for a proper diagnosis. I can’t promise it won’t be uncomfortable, but your natural lubrication should help. i’m glad we won’t need to use gel, it doesn’t work as well in reducing discomfort during insertion."

you gulp and blink at him with conflict. the idea that it might be painful scares you but the fact that it’s only his finger makes you feel a bit better. but now, not only are you worried about this process, arousal is sitting behind you, eagerly awaiting its turn for attention.

he examines your expression to make sure you’re okay, allowing you to gather the courage to speak.

“w-what if it won’t go in?” you question, timidly. you’re afraid of the possibility that even his finger won’t be able to push past your entrance like that guy, indicating that maybe something incurable is wrong with you instead of a condition that can be corrected.

he immediately smiles kindly at you with a soft sympathetic huff as his hand begins to rub comfortingly up and down your inner thigh. he feels so bad for you, a young, beautiful girl who’s obviously terrified of something being wrong with her body.

“i wouldn’t worry about that, i was already close to slipping into you before,” he coos, attempting to comfort you, making your eyes widen a bit. you think maybe you’re actually a raging pervert because his unintentionally lewd words make your chasm clench in need, forcing a bit of arousal to gush out of you, slowly begin to slide down to your other hole, and pool under you to inevitably drool down to the floor.

you inhale shakily and deeply before nodding.

“j-just go slow, please.”

he gently allows his sleek eyes to come close to shutting as he smiles at you with consideration and a short nod, but you don’t miss the way his jaw clenches with your words.

“if it helps, you can watch,” he offers, squeezing your thigh gently.

as you nod, he speaks again.

“here.” he raises his glistening, gloved fingers, then gently takes one of your hands and guides it to wrap around his thick middle finger.

“that’s all that will be inside of you,” he murmurs soothingly, his hand still gently holding yours, wrapped around his finger. “not too bad, right?”

the skin between your brows pinches momentarily as you look down at your hand enveloped by his. his finger is so long and thick compared to yours that half of it remains exposed, just beyond your grasp. you can’t tell how comforting that is in relation to the potential pain, but it certainly sends a flutter of butterflies through your lower abdomen.

“y-yeah,” you nod dumbly, “not too bad.”

he smiles and hums, gently taking his hands back to rest one back to your inner thigh while the other prepares to penetrate you.

“i’m just going to gently push past the tight ring of your entrance first, and then i’ll give you a moment to breathe, okay? stop me if it’s too uncomfortable.” his gaze flickers from you, down to your pussy in focus.

your breaths are shaky as you anticipate pain with an anxious pout. your sweet innocence makes his eyes soften as he gazes up at you.

“deep breath in,” he coos, making you breathe in deeply, “and out.”

the second you breathe out, he pushes his finger past your entrance quickly, keeping his eyes on your face as it contorts in a flinch. you gasp and stiffen at the stinging intrusion.

“shh, i know. on a scale of one to ten, how badly does it hurt?” he shushes you sweetly, keeping the tip of his finger unmoving in your chasm while his other hand rubs circles on your inner thigh.

“s-six,” you whine out, fists tight at your sides. the pain feels as though just the tip of his finger has cut open the bottom part of your opening.

“oh no,” he coos, making eye contact with your glistening eyes, “this might help.”

he then uses the hand on your thigh to gently rub circles into your clit, making your lips part as your eyes close in tandem with your brows raising softly in surprising comfort.

the way he moves against you now feels distinctly different from when he was simply examining your labia. his touch is more precise, focusing on the top sides of your clit, gently coaxing the hood to glide up and down instead of applying harsh pressure directly onto your clit. it’s as if he’s deliberately ensuring that each movement remains soothing rather than overwhelming, carefully avoiding any intensity that might tip into discomfort.

and it does help—more than just help, in fact. you can feel your core clenching with a growing yearning for more, pulling his finger in like a vacuum.

“better?” he inquires, still swiping at you as your thighs twitch and toes curl in the stirrups.

“t-that’s— fuck— i don’t kn—“ you whine, pathetically, unable to put your thoughts in order as he continues his work. he interrupts you with a cooing shush.

“good, it’s okay— shh, i’m going deeper now,” he briefly warns you before quickly pushing his middle finger in to the hilt, making you gasp loudly.

“o-ow— hurts,” you whine, opening your pouty eyes to see his low ones already on you.

“i know, i know. but you’re doing so good, sweet girl.” he soothes, quickening his pace on your clit to distract you.

“j-just hurry, please,” you grit out, biting back a moan as you watch him eye your pussy fluttering around his finger.

“of course. i’m gonna start moving and pressing down now. you’ll feel pressure, bare with me.” he explains, licking his lips as your arousal pools around his finger and drools onto the floor. geto is trying so hard to be professional but your virgin pussy is so tight and wet, as if it’s just inviting him in to play.

he then begins to move his finger within you, prodding against every one of your walls with exploration, likely a bit harder than he really has to, making you whine and jolt. when his finger pushes up against your top wall, your pussy clenches hard and you can’t help but let out a surprised whimper.

“so tight,” he breathes out to himself, astonished. it’s as if he didn’t know he said it out loud making your lidded gaze snap wide open at him with concern.

“w-what?” you ask, a flicker of concern washing over you as the possibility of having the condition he mentioned sinks in. what’s usually a compliment to most women feels more like an insult to you now.

his gaze immediately flickers up at you, a bit of surprise lacing his eyes that you actually heard him as he clears his throat.

“oh— nothing,” he chuckles, almost nervously, “you’re just a bit tight down here, it’s difficult to examine properly.”

“oh, you scared me,” your eyes soften and you sigh. he also sighs in relief but not for the same reasons.

“do me a favor and lay back for me,” he softly commands and you obey as you breathe deeply.

“i’m gonna try to open you up, stay down. do not get up unless i ask of you, okay?” he explains seriously, making your brows furrow.

“u-um why?” you ask, curiously.

“you’re much more open laying down. i’m about to push harder against your walls and i’m afraid it will hurt you if you sit up,” he explains, slightly breathy. you nod at the ceiling and gulp in preparation.

then, he takes his fingers off of your clit and replaces it with something warm and wet. and at the same time, he begins to move his finger inside of you, curling against your top wall harshly.

you gasp out in shock, gasp only turning into whiny cries as the wet thing on your clit begins to move against it. it almost feels like a tongue licking at your clit like an ice cream cone but you quickly shake your head of that idea; he’s a doctor, he’d never do such a thing. you wouldn’t know what a tongue feels like on your pussy anyways so you dumbly assume it’s one of their contraptions to help with penetration. and fuck, does it help.

still, you find yourself biting your bottom lip harshly as your hands softly hit against the bed under you in attempt to cope with the aggressive administrations to your insides. you wouldn’t be surprised if your lower tummy is twitching in a bulge, showing how vehemently he’s striking your top wall.

and when a shameful orgasm begins to approach with haste and you whine in panic as your back arches against your will.

“ngh!— stop! i’m— stop!” you plead, trying your best not to close your legs or sit up in fear of it being painful like he warned.

his movements halt abruptly at your begging, pulling the wet thing away from your clit and stopping so his finger is unmoving inside of you.

geto doesn’t need to ask what’s wrong, he knows how your body works and the signs of your approaching orgasm are more clear than most of the women he’s fucked.

“i’m so close to finding what i need, are you sure you’d like me to stop?” he inquires, voice deep and raspy. you aren’t entirely sure because of how aggressive his finger was moving inside of you before but it feels as though it’s still so subtly moving in and out of you, keeping your orgasm just teetering on the edge.

you’d rather die than admit you’re close to orgasm in a doctors office and in a paper dress with your feet in stirrups so instead, you make up an excuse.

“it just— hurts and—”

“but if we stop, i wont be able to diagnose you, y/n. are you okay leaving here today without knowing? i’d like to help you, but you need to let me,” he coos, almost impatiently. his words spark a bit of anxiety within you, making you feel as though it would be your fault if you don’t gain a proper exam.

you whine quietly, unable to decide. it’s so difficult to think with his digit still inside of you. you aren’t sure if you can even fend off an orgasm if you choose to keep going, but doctor geto’s words make you feel pressure to continue, for your health.

your whine in indecision makes him coo at you, “i know it’s scary— but your health is more important than your embarrassment.”

you know he’s right, though you think he doesn’t know that it’s more than just embarrassment holding you back, it’s more the fear of cumming all over him.

“how much longer?” you choke out, preparing to endure more.

if you were able to see the diabolical smile on geto’s face as you give in, you’d be running out of here and never coming back, maybe even leaving a bad review on yelp.

geto doesn’t behave this way; he never has. he’s always honored the vulnerability of his patients when they lie exposed on the exam table, maintaining an unwavering commitment to professionalism and respect. he understands the trust they place in him, and he’s never crossed that line before.

but with you, everything feels different. you’re not only an attractive young woman; you’re naive, so visibly nervous from the idea of him seeing and touching your most vulnerable spots, and it’s been clear from the second he entered the room that you’re attracted to him. he’s never had a patient so visibly affected by his touch, so sticky and wet, and it’s challenging him to uphold the composure he prides himself on.

“not too much longer; try to relax your body. you’re quite tense around me, but every time your muscles ease up, i get closer to collecting what i need for an accurate diagnosis.”

you curse at yourself mentally as you tap your fingers against the table, “i don’t really know how to make my muscles ‘ease up.’”

he hums, “that’s okay, i can help. what do you imagine when you masterbate?”

your eyes snap wide open at the ceiling and you flush in embarrassment.

“h-huh? what do you mean? why?”

“ah, i know. it seems odd but there’s a study that shows a woman’s vaginal muscles seem to become more flexible when imagining arousing scenarios or situations,” he chuckles, casually.

“oh,” you chirp, hands going to grip the sides of your gown into tight fists.

he allows a beat of silence so you can think on it, relishing in the way your pussy likes to hug his finger every now and then, like it’s begging to be pleased by him.

“i’ll try, you can keep going,” you timidly notify him.

“well, i can help if you’d like,” he says softly, “what do you usually imagine that arouses you the quickest? try to be as specific as you can.”

you swallow hard and shut your eyes, desperately trying to shield yourself from the humiliation of confessing something so intimate to your doctor, tricking your mind into believing it’s just a casual chat with friends like he said earlier.

“i think about,” you begin slowly, “a stranger, a man sitting beside me somewhere in public—”

as you speak, geto starts to slowly work his finger back up to a good pace, cock twitching painfully as your words begin to waver into a whine as he rubs against your g-spot.

“mhm,” he hums, urging you to continue, “and what does he do to you?”

“—he starts to touch me,” you gasp softly, fisting your gown as that wet thing starts to lap at your pulsing clit once more, “and he doesn’t even look— ngh— at me, he just shoves his hand into my panties and plays with me.”

“and what do you do?” he eggs you on, and perhaps if you weren't so caught up in the steadily building wave of pleasure, you might have noticed how when he speaks, that warm, wet sensation is momentarily lifted from your clit.

“i try to stop him by pulling at his arm but,” you let out a breathy moan as the wet thing starts to suckle on your clit, “—but there are so many people around and i don’t want them to know.”

“no, you can’t make it stop,” he coos in faux sympathy, as if roleplaying to further delve you into your fantasy. being so aroused at this point, you don’t even notice him slipping another finger in to join the assault on your guts. “but you can try.”

before you fully comprehend what’s happening, he guides one of your hands down, wrapping your fingers around the wrist of the hand that’s fucking inside you. it feels surreal, as if he’s weaving your fantasy into reality. the warmth of his contracting, veiny wrist contrasts with the coolness of the exam table.

“no, i can’t make it stop,” you repeat his words in a pathetic cry of pleasure, your orgasm approaching closer as his pace becomes violent and the wet thing around your clit start to flick at it abusively while latched on like lips suckling on a nipple. every ounce of shame you have transforms into a disturbingly taboo fuel, amplifying your pleasure in ways you never anticipated.

the only sound in the room are your moans and squelching, but you can feel a deep, rumbling groan reverberate against your clit as your grip on his wrist weakly attempts to pull him out like in your fantasy. before you have a chance to process what that means, your orgasm crashes over you, painting your vision white. embarrassing sounds of ecstasy escape your lips, tinged with desperation, as your nails dig into his wrist, leaving crescent moons in their wake.

your body convulses in a chaotic rhythm, alternating between curling inward and arching outward. each wave of pleasure sends soft involuntary jerks through you, leaving your abdomen taut and quivering.

“that’s it,” he coos against you, and you’re just so fucked stupid on his huge fingers stretching you out that the logic you’d use to deduce that his tongue and mouth is the contraption suckling at your clit evaporates as your high ensues.

as your cries and jerks begin to fade, your fingers loosen their grip on his wrist, and you take deep, shuddering breaths, gradually descending from your peak. he slows his fingers within, matching the retreat of your high, his touch now gentle as the waves of pleasure ebb away.

“you did so good, little one.” he finally withdraws his fingers, letting out a low hum of satisfaction as he brings his tongue to lie flat against your opening. with deliberate slowness, he licks up the sticky essence that escapes as his reward, savoring each rhythmic pulse from your hole. there’s an almost tender appreciation in his tongues caress as he feels your body instinctively attempt to draw in sperm with its contracting muscles. it’s a sight that stirs a primal urge within him, and he can’t help but feel a pang of sympathy for your poor, empty pussy, yearning for that load of cum it so desperately seeks.

you hiss in a mix of pleasure and overstimulation, your hands flying to pull at his soft hair as he grows more fervent, his mouth devouring your lips with an almost primal intensity. it’s as if he’s an animal caught in a wild frenzy, intent on savoring every last drop of you, much like a creature would clean its mate after an intimate breeding. the warmth of his tongue and lips making out with your folds, tracing patterns, sends shockwaves through your body.

“o-ow!” you whine, though it’s more of a pathetic call of pleasure that’s just too intense to handle, “t-too much! doctor geto, please—”

it’s embarrassing, truly, that the call of his professional name is what finally snaps him out of his haze, retracting his mouth from your intimate parts that are now just swollen and irritated with stimulation, drooling a sticky mess onto the tile floor between his feet.

he clears his throat and wipes his mouth with his handkerchief as you let go of his now messy hair and fall back on the bed with deep breaths, eyebrows pinched in utter relief.

after a moment of silence, punctuated only by your labored breaths, he stands and fastens a button on his doctor's coat, striving to maintain a veneer of professionalism while discreetly concealing his raging hard on.

“you did um— very well, made my job much easier. you can sit up now,” he says gently as he softly pulls your legs from the stirrups to hang over the edge of the bed once again, a tint of sympathy in his tone after what he just did to a young, naive, sweet girl.

the way you muster all your remaining strength to sit up, trying to play it cool as if you hadn’t just cum as hard as you did —like he might not have noticed—is simply adorable.

“d-did you find out what i have?” you question weakly with a visible humiliation on your face, he can only imagine how much you’re beating yourself up for allowing yourself to cum as a doctor just simply does his ‘job.’

you gulps and takes a deep breath before peeling off his drenched gloves and tossing them into the bin in the corner and shoving his hands into his pockets as he faces you once again.

“yes,” he nods, “i know exactly what you have and before you get nervous, don’t worry. it’s curable with proper treatment.”

your eyes light up with hope, tinged with relaxation from the afterglow as your legs shake subtly in sensitivity.

“what is it?”

“well, it’s similar to the condition i told you about but this one is a bit different. your vagina needs proper training for a few months,” he explains with utter professionalism, as if the lower half of his face isn’t still wet with your juices.

“w-what kind of training?” you ask with a gulp, fingers fidgeting.

“something called penetration training.”

———

omg that’s so wrong.. me next!

warnings: dub con? (toji convinces you), brief shiu x reader, breeding, exhibitionism, age gap (reader is 21 and toji is 42) nsfw🔞 this is a long one~

you finally let the naughty devil on your shoulder win today, leading you to sneak into the men’s designated locker room and strip down to just a towel to see what happens.

toji spots you pretty fast with a brief mocking look as he wraps his towel around his hips, a silly, stupid girl who mistook the men’s as the women’s. he simply gathers his soaps for a much needed shower, and pays you no mind— after all it’s not his problem. though, he supposes a sweet little thing like you is lucky there aren’t many men here today because he can only imagine what they’d do to you as you slowly undress by that locker.

he steals a few peeks out of natural human curiosity, never being one to hold himself back in the name of ‘what’s right’, and hums to himself nonchalantly before making his way to the shower area.

catching the view of the large, muscular back of a scarred man with jet black hair waltzing into the showers, you whistle a soft song as you follow close behind, making a point to pick the shower just next to his. the showers are only separated by a half wall, much taller than you but not tall enough for toji to be unable to see over it into yours.

but toji simply washes his hair, thinking of what he’s going to get for dinner as you stand on the tips of your toes as to see over the wall and catch a glimpse of what he has hanging. a man like that has got to be packing something mean.

you’ve always had a habit of daydreaming about the attractive men you see on a day to day basis, imagining what they have in their pants and what it’d be like to suck them off or tease them. you suppose you’re a bit of a perv, but because you’re just a young girl, society seems to overlook when your stare lingers just a bit too long, trying to trace out where their dick is. and when you’re rarely able to find the outline, you love to see if it twitches when you bend down and accidentally flash your lace panties at them.

even with his eyes closed as he rinses out the soap in his hair, he senses your eyes on him— being an ex-bounty hunter has it’s perks.

he sighs when you don’t look away after five whole minutes, even stumbling over your own two feet with a cute little gasp.

“oi, he snaps at you without even looking at you, letting the water run down his chest, making you jump, “got a staring problem, kid?”

you quickly close your eyes and nonchalantly begin to massage your head with soap as the water runs down your back, feigning ignorance, “huh? you’re the one in the women’s locker room, creep.”

he immediately scoffs to himself, “illiterate and a little stupid brat.”

immediately, your eyes snap open and your face contorts in offense with a light blush. he’s still not even looking at you, making you drop your hands from your head, irritatedly giving up on the innocent act.

but you decide it’s not worth it, being unable to read the sign that reads three little letters ‘men,’ is likely a better excuse than the perverted truth of why you’re in here so you shut right up and rinse your hair out.

most, if not all of you expected this to go wildly different, imagining a group of guys cornering you into the corner of the shower, smirking at you as their cocks jump to life to prepare for the beating your pussy is about to get. but no, instead you got an asshole who doesn’t even care that you’re naked and vulnerable just beside him.

the little devil on your shoulder stomps it’s foot, steam shooting from it’s nostrils as it whispers into your ear.

you steal a quick glance at him, minding his business with closed, tired eyes while quietly washing his body. you step back until your back rests against the opposite wall, facing the one dividing the two of you and allow your fingers to find your pretty clit.

your other hand kneads your left breast as you begin to circle your nub, tilting your head back to lean on the wall with a bite to your lip.

your pussy reacts quickly, the second you walked into the men’s room acting as foreplay. your body twitches as you find the right speed and angle, eyes closed in needy concentration. the water raining down onto your chest flicks your nipples just right, pulling a whimper from you as your fingers quicken.

you don’t hold anything back, letting out every increasingly loud, desperate moan and whine as your back arches in pleasure. you use the idea of the burly, mean man being forced to listen to you get yourself off as if he’s not even real, simply a taboo fantasy and acting as a means to your release.

you don’t even notice when another man walks into the shower room who chooses to take the shower behind you, until you feel their large fingers slowly raking through your hair and massaging your scalp.

you flinch at the sensation and your glazed over eyes flutter open, swipes against your clit slowing as you turn your head to see who’s touching you in slight shock.

“shh, keep going,” they coo behind you in a raspy tone, voice obviously coming from above the wall— leading you to belief they’re tall enough to see over it.

if his voice weren't so sexy, you might have stopped. but it is, and seeing Toji continue to shower, as if he couldn’t care less, only urges you to push things further.

so you whine as you slide two fingers into your pulsing chasm, quickly growing frustrated because of how difficult the angle is. you lift your leg into a bend as to give yourself more access but it’s just too hard to keep your leg up. before it falls, a rough hand quickly grasps the underside of your knee and holds it up for you, making you whimper a ‘t-thank you— thank you.”

he chuckles as you start furiously finger fucking yourself, imagining the man massaging your head was the one stuffing you up.

after one sloppy, gross lick to your outer ear, you gasp and shake as you cum abruptly.

“very nice,” the man coos into your ear before gently letting go of your leg and untangling his fingers from your hair.

you slump into the wall, legs shaking as you catch your breath, but the dreadful post orgasm disgust begins to creep in, making you cringe to yourself slightly.

but your little moment of reflection is cut off by your shower curtain being yanked open harshly. your eyes snap open at the mean black haired man who steps into your shower and closes the curtain behind him as you instinctively shrink into the corner as if to soon be devoured. your eyes flicker to the shower that was behind you, finding that the other man had already left. your eyes quickly glue back to the large man looming in front of you after confirming no one else seems to be here.

even though you were so shameless before, it’s like you’re another person now that you got yourself off, shaky hands flying to cover your nipples and genitals as your wide eyes gaze up at him like a scared bunny. you’re not even trying to ogle at his bobbing cock now, amusing toji even further.

he slyly smiles as he takes a step towards you, soaking up the way you flinch and shake your head ‘no.’ he’s not even sure if you know what you’re saying no to because he hasn’t even said anything yet, blinded by fear of the unpredictable predator invading your space.

he chuckles down at you as he uses one arm to cage you under him, his body hunched so he can be closer to your eye level.

“no?” his voice makes you jump, your hands clenching your private areas tighter in protection, “aww but you were so eager when shiu had his hands on you.”

your brows twitch in confusion, piecing together that he knows the man who was massaging your scalp and holding your leg up.

you shake your head in denial, in spite of the both of you knowing he’s right, making him huff in amusement.

you gulp, eyes briefly widening as his free hand begins to jerk in your lower peripheral.

he watches you with glazed eyes and slightly parted lips as you slowly rake your eyes down. your own lips part in a gasp when your gaze lands on his large cock being jerked by his scarred hand, just inches from making contact with your lower tummy.

he grunts lowly at your reaction before quickly gripping and lifting your leg that was previously being held up by ‘shiu’ and practically making your other foot come off of the ground with his raw strength. your hand covering your breasts flies to the wall behind you to stabilize yourself with a whine, seemingly prioritizing stability over modesty.

he growls when you don’t take your hand away from your pussy, “you wanted this, didn’t you? comin into the men’s room and touching that pretty pussy in front of two dirty men? surely you didn’t think you’d leave here un-fucked.”

you inhale as an anxious pout makes its way to your face, avoiding his gaze as he nudges his face into the side of yours before licking a stripe up your neck. the fantasy you came in here with is vastly different than actually experiencing it, making you regret ever listening to the little devil who’s blushing on your shoulder.

you shiver in anticipation as he begins to suck on the skin of your throat, your hand on the wall hesitantly moving to grasp his veiny forearm caging you in.

he hums in appreciation of your slow progress to opening yourself up, taking the opportunity to take a step closer and using his free hand to rub his cock head against your hand covering your pussy.

“open up, little one,” he sings threateningly into your neck, lips roughly brushing up to nibble your ear.

you whine as you take your shaky hand away and expose yourself to him, moving it to gently lie on his scarred shoulder.

“b-be gentl—”

you let out a broken scream when he doesn’t even give you a warning, bullying the entirety of his cock into your little hole at once.

he groans long and guttural as his feet shuffle to keep himself lodged inside your tight pussy, the sting of your fingernails piercing his shoulder and forearm is insignificant in comparison to the heaven you were hiding.

you gasp for air as he throws his head back and lets out ‘hahh,’ over and over as if it hurts to be inside of you. and yet, he’s making absolute fucking sure that he doesn’t slip out, even though your shocked chasm is pushing the intrusion out with all it’s little might.

you can feel the thin tissue at the bottom of your entrance tearing and stinging. you notice how your hip bones seem to move to accommodate his abnormal size, as they’re built to do for childbirth.

“you can barely keep me in, huh? can you feel me in here, baby?” he coos at you in a teasing manner as your legs shake and a gleam covers your eyes, pressing down just above your bellybutton and against the bulge of his tip intruding on your guts.

you both gasp and groan painfully at the intense euphoria of making your already miserably tight hole even more snug. he can feel the bone like tissue that makes up his cock under the soft skin shift as your tunnel attempts to eject him. toji’s overall size as a man is vastly larger than your small form, making it feel as though you were never meant to mate.

as if displeased with your lack of words, he picks up your other leg and hooks them both over his forearms, squeezing the fat of your ass before bucking up into you once.

you scream with clenched brows and toes, nails so deep in his shoulders that blood trickles down and washes away down the drain.

“i asked you a question— shit— or is my cock distracting that air head of yours?” he teases you, forehead pressing into yours as his intense green eyes stare into yours.

you gulp between heavy breaths and nod frantically, “n-no! i can! i c-can feel it— tearing me open!” you whine pathetically, answering his question from before. toji didn’t actually need an answer, the question was obviously rhetorical and meant to mock you but he just fucking loves to show off the control he already has over you.

“yeah?” he whispers, leaning into your mouth and breathing directly into your mouth, “wanna feel more?” and it sounds like a fucking threat, making your eyes widen.

you know how sex works, the idea that you have to move in and out to actually achieve the obvious but you find your heart dropping into your ass at his insinuation that he wants to push that monstrosity of genitalia in and out of your cute little pussy that’s made for four inchers.

“w-wa-wait—!” you shout into his mouth before he cuts you off with his tongue licking into your mouth in a nasty old man kind of way as his hips start to snap up into your core. it’s as if he’s fucking his tongue and his cock into you, making you choke on both.

“nope— ngh— just gotttaa—” he grunts into your mouth and halts his thrusts to instead hold his hips flush to yours, wiggling up and down instead of pushing in and out as if he’s trying to make room for himself, “— break you open a bit.”

your head spins and leans back against the wall, eyes rolling back when a metaphorical ‘pop!’ sound comes from your certix.

and you swear that maybe that sound wasn’t just in your head when he smiles into your lips and breathes out, ‘hooo— there we go.”

“w-what was that! where are you?” you squeak in pain and sink your teeth into his bottom lip with a whimper, as if you’re trying to make him feel just a fraction of the pain that ‘pop!’ felt like for you.

he hisses at the yummy sting and licks your teeth and top lip, making you retract your canines.

“it’s— ngh— a little spot,” he coos, making you look down as he points at a spot just above your belly button and to the right a smidge, “riight here.”

he gently begins to rock his hips like he’s trying to show you where, and you immediately gasp at the sensation. it feels as though he’s stuck inside you, like his tip is lodged just beneath your cervix in a little cubby built like a one car parking garage attempting to fit a monster truck.

“yeaahhh, you feel it, don’t you?” he purrs but it seems like he’s gritting the words out, attempting to speak through the relentless squeeze of your cubby around his tip.

“ye- yes! feel it! feel it,” you babble stupidly, making him nuzzle his head into yours affectionately, hips unrelenting from rocking against you. he just loves the look on your contorted face when you both feel the tug of your cubby pulling on his tip.

“feels like it’s just fucking—,” he grazes his teeth against your cheek and nibbles on your ear before moving back to lap at your cheek, “—impossible to push me out, right?”

you immediately nod frantically, tears beginning to fall from your eyes in equal parts pleasure and pain. it feels as though he wouldn’t be able to pull out to push back in even if he tried, like he’s penetrated past possibility, though you’re pretty sure he’s just locked into a hidden gushy space under your cervix.

“impossible,” you slur in affirmation, subconsciously rutting your hips down against his rocking ones as if he could even get any deeper.

“mmm— actually, not quite impossible,” he smirks like a threat before abruptly jerking his hips away from you, making you gasp loudly as he dislodges from his little temporary cozy home violently.

“n-no! back! go back!” you whine, pathetically in spite of how painful it was, yearning for the world of deep physical connection he’s open your eyes to.

he chuckles into your lips and begins sloppily making out with your weak lips, uncaring how terribly you’re doing kissing him back as he starts to hump into you harshly.

every thrust earns you a sexy grunt or if you’re lucky, a guttural groan to mix with your whines.

your eyes basically roll to the back of your skull when he somehow holds you up with one arm while using the other hand to swipe against your screaming clit.

you can’t help but keep your lips parted so he can bully his tongue into you instead of even attempting to kiss him back, overthrown by the intensity of your second orgasm of the night approaching quickly.

“cumming, baby? cumming?” he breathes, making you whine and nod as your terribly tight cunt clenches down even harder.

he hisses in surprise and his pace triples, his balls tightening up as ropes of cum threaten to impregnate you.

“cumming in a nasty fucking gym bathroom with a— hahh!—guy you don’t even know, bet you fantasize about this shit, huh?” he rasps shakily, making it obvious that he’s teetering on the edge.

“n-no!i d-don’t!” you scream stupidly as you cum, white flashing over your vision as your body goes limp, twitching violently between subtle shakes, forcing him to abandon your clit and push you to lean on his chest so your head is tucked into his burly neck.

“gonna get you pregnant, gonna make you have my baby you pretty slut,” he babbles, pussy drunk and not thinking clearly as his hips still against yours, his brain cells being milked out of his cock and into your yearning uterus like a fucking go-gurt.

and you can’t even protest, too weak to speak so you bite into his neck meanly, like you’re trying to punish him.

“shit!— you brat,” he grunts, irritatedly as the last of his cum dribbles out to join the rest in their pursuit to your uterus. despite biting him as if you despise him and him insulting you while filling you to the brim, there’s still a deep affection between you as you gently soothe the bite marks with your tongue, causing him to hiss softly but ultimately hum in approval as he kneads your ass.

after a few moments of the both of you gasping for air and sharing a long, unmoving kiss, he finally pulls out and lets his cum pour out of you.

“l-lots of cum,” you whine as it runs down your leg and pools on the shower floor, legs wobbling as he sets you down to stand. he holds you up and his brows twitch in empathy as he gazes at his milky evidence escaping your pussy.

your words make him curse at himself. he has to clench his eyes shut briefly as to think of something disgusting, like what’s on the floor of this shower you both have your bare feet on, to make his cock stay down.

“uh— yeah— my bad,” he sighs and rubs comforting, sympathetic circles into your hips as he holds you up, “let’s clean you up.”

he feels like a goddamn idiot as he then washes out your pussy, blasting water into your hole and scooping out his sperm futilely as he promises you that you won’t get pregnant. maybe you’ll get some kind of mild infection from the water being sprayed into you but he assumes that’s better than having his child. he has to stop himself from literally slapping himself when you tell him you’re twenty one, growing more thorough in cleaning his cum from your fertile body after you lay that information on him— even though you giggle when he tells you that he’s twice your age.

he feels even dumber when he carries you to an uber that he fucking paid for and gives you his number.. just in case.. before joining shiu in the car.

and just as shiu is about to say something, toji interrupts him with a hand raised to shut him up.

“don’t fucking say a word, asshole.”

——

mean, pervy toji pls just one chance-

pornstar!nanami who has a signature style to his videos—all of which are solo content consisting of him, manspreading in front of the camera in an awfully expensive suit. as his hands trace the muscles of his thighs, the seams of his trousers, the outline of his hardened cock.

pornstar!nanami who always takes his time getting to the good stuff, his voice silken as he speaks to those watching him. praise falls from his lips, which are always just out of view—the man doesn't dare show his face. something about professionalism and all.

pornstar!nanami whose videos usually end with him cumming into his closed fist, or into a toy if he's feeling so inclined. as a long time viewer of him, you've come to learn a few things about how he orgasms—he always bucks his hips up, chasing that instinct to breed. he always moans like he's in heat just before his climax, but because he's not great with breathing through his orgasms he chokes up just as he falls over the edge—it's a pretty sound.

pornstar!nanami who sometimes gets messy with it—he's such an organised and ritualistic man in his day-to-day that he sometimes just wants to let loose. sometimes, he'll only pull his cock out of his pants through the fly, and let the world watch as his precum dribbles all over those pressed pants of his. oh and does he go feral knowing that he's dirtying something so expensive with the receipts of his lust. who will stroke himself to completion just to watch his cum stain the fabric he's worked so hard to afford—there's no explaining that away to a drycleaner.

pornstar!nanami who likes to imagine it's a pretty thing riding his thigh that wrecks his trousers. wonders how many of his viewers touch themselves to his videos, hoping the could take him for all he's worth as well.

pornstar!nanami who, after a particularly messy session one day, gets an email after uploading his video. it's not even been ten minutes, which was the length of his video, so he assumes whoever has emailed him came particularly fast to that one.

pornstar!nanami who was more than right in his assumption. because as his eyes rake over the email sent by an adoring fan, he sees about a million different typos that indicate nothing other than messy fingers and a fucked-dumb typist. in your barely legible email, you explain that Mr. Nanamis videos are tagged 'near-you', and you'd happily offer your services as the next sex toy he uses to fuck-and-film in exchange for an orgasm or three.

and oh is pornstar!nanami intrigued. because his life is a busy one, he's a businessman when the sun is up time is precious and human connection is a scheduling conflict—his videos aren't solo out of preference, poor nanami, the pornstar, is a virgin.

pornstar!nanami who, after a few weeks of back and forth and some genuine conversation, ends up with his camera flashing red as you sit naked on his lap. and oh are you happy with the sight of him, blonde and sculpted to perfection underneath those lovely suits of his. Your ass is on display to anyone watching, upper half out of shot as your teeth clash with his.

pornstar!nanami who can't help the sounds he makes when you grind against his clothed cock. your slick, your pooling lust, it smears over the fabric of his pants and leaves a gloss behind in turn. he's ravenous, holding onto your hips and grinding you down against him in all the right ways. who moans into your mouth, already a little pussydrunk and he's barely had a taste of you.

pornstar!nanami who hopes he isn't unseemly in the way he manhandles you to sit properly on his lap. he knows you're as desperate as he is, what with the way you slip your hands down to undo his belt and pull his cock free. your fingers wrapped around his length is enough of a narcotic to cum on the spot, though he steadies his reeling mind and holds out.

pornstar!nanami who offers to fuck you on his fingers first, to use his tongue to warm you up and get you ready for his, frankly overbearing, size. but you're insistent, eager, and lowering yourself onto his aching cock with a kiss to his lips and a sharp inhale shared between you.

pornstar!nanami who thanks whatever god may be out there for letting him film a glimpse of heaven.

pornstar!nanami who can barely keep himself together as you ride him like he's the toy at hand. he's sure he's never been this vocal for his viewers, moaning alone is a feat that is hot at best and hauntingly awkward at worst—this, though—he's never been so mindless. and you love it. all the videos you've watched where his voice is smooth and confident and he's the picture of put-together. having such a man, a gentleman like nanami, absolutely melting with each clench of your dripping pussy around his length? it's an aphrodisiac in itself.

and when you catch onto the fact that pornstar!nanami is about to cum—the bucking of his hips, those drawling moans, the hitch of his breath—you kiss him stupid, and then speak against his pretty swollen lips. 'breathe'

and oh does pornstar!nanami breathe. a desperate droning moan escapes his breath, right into your mouth as he empties himself inside of you like he's trying to give you his last name.

pornstar!nanami who can't help himself. flipping you over and onto your back, pressing you into the mattress as he continues to fuck into you. he's going to pull as many orgasms out of you as he can—it doesn't even register in his mind that, due to the new angle of your bodies, he's just let the world see his face, and the pretty pussy drunk blush that paints it pink.

This^^^

‎𐔌 ᩧ ຼ ˳ 　　　It was late, and the house was quiet as you shifted uncomfortably in bed. The cramps had been gnawing at your abdomen all night, making it impossible to fall into a deep sleep. You tried not to move too much, not wanting to disturb Sukuna, who was resting beside you. He rarely seemed vulnerable, but in his sleep, his sharp features softened just enough to remind you that even the King of Curses needed rest.

But no matter how hard you tried to keep still, your body betrayed you. A small, pained groan escaped your lips as another wave of cramps tightened around your stomach, causing you to curl in on yourself. Sukuna’s body twitched beside you, and for a moment, you thought he was still asleep. Until you heard it—a low, rumbling growl from deep in his chest.

You froze. Was he... growling?

It took a few seconds before you realized what was happening. The faint scent of blood must’ve hit his heightened senses, and like a predator picking up on the tiniest shifts in the air, Sukuna was reacting to it. His brow furrowed slightly as he inhaled through his nose, the smell of your period filling his senses. He shifted in his sleep, instinctively moving closer to you, a territorial edge to the way his arm draped over your waist.

You could feel his fingers twitching against your skin as if unconsciously staking his claim. Another small growl escaped him, softer this time but no less possessive.

Suddenly, his eyes fluttered open, and you found yourself face-to-face with a very awake—and very intense—Sukuna. His crimson gaze locked onto yours, still hazy from sleep but filled with an unmistakable sense of protectiveness.

“You’re in pain,” he said gruffly, voice low and rough from sleep. “I can feel it.”

You opened your mouth to protest, your face flushing with embarrassment. “I didn’t mean to wake you. It’s just… cramps. It’s nothing, really—”

His grip on you tightened just slightly, cutting off your sentence as he stared at you, his eyes narrowing in a way that left no room for argument. “Dumb girl,” he warned, as if what he said before was the most obvious thing in the world. His tone was matter-of-fact, yet there was an underlying possessiveness in the way he said it, as if it was something unbreakable. “I will keep you safe, as your king.”

You swallowed, feeling the heat rise to your cheeks. “Sukuna, it’s just—”

“I don’t care what it is,” he interrupted, his voice softening just a little, though the stubbornness was still there. “Your body is suffering, and I will ease your pain.”

You opened your mouth to argue again, but the intensity in his gaze left you speechless. He didn’t just want to help—you could tell he needed to, like some primal instinct had taken over. Just like how animals got protective and snuggly around women on their periods, Sukuna’s instincts were flaring up. You could see it in the way his muscles tensed, the way he hovered protectively over you, as if keeping you safe from something unseen.

You sighed, feeling your embarrassment wash away as you realized how serious he was. “It’s just… it’s a little embarrassing,” you admitted softly, looking down. “I don’t want to bother you.”

Sukuna let out a quiet snarl of irritation. “You’re my mate. You’ll never bother me.” He shifted, pulling you closer into his chest as his large hand splayed across your abdomen, the warmth of his palm immediately soothing against your aching muscles. “Let me take care of you.”

Despite the initial embarrassment, the heat of his body and the firm but gentle pressure of his hand on your stomach made you relax. The pain wasn’t as sharp with him so close, and the reassurance in his gravely voice eased some of the discomfort in your chest, too.

You snuggled into him, allowing yourself to rest against his tattooed chest. His growls quieted into a soft rumble, more like a contented purr now, as he nuzzled his face into your hair.

“I’ve got you,” Sukuna murmured, his voice a quiet, possessive promise. “You’re mine. No one gets to hurt you. Not even your own body.”

And even though it was still a little embarrassing, you felt safer than ever wrapped in his arms, knowing that he would always be there to protect you—even from something as simple as cramps.　　‿ ݂۫ ׄ ༊࿔