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frequentlybald · 7 hours ago

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The loyal megooners know about this one

❝ i'm already yours ❞

summary: megumi learns to be honest with you and tell you what he wants.

featuring... megumi fushiguro

content warning: MDNI (18+), afab!reader, angst, fluff, some rude guy (ino slander im SORRY), mentions of alcohol, mentions of megumi's ex, fighting, megumi still being emotionally stunted but hes learning, ozawa x itadori mentions, maki x yuta mentions, nobara is a menace, megumi being such a cute lil baby, swearing, smutttt, fingering, mirror sex, missionary, p in v sex, loss of virginity, belly bulge, unprotected sex (dont do that!), pulling-out method, subspace a bit, squirting, aftercare!!

word count: 9.3k

author's note: oh BABY, this one GOOOOOD

chapter one

Megumi Fushiguro is starting to really like you.

Like, more than just ‘like-like’, as you so eloquently put it those few months ago while lying naked in his bed. Megumi’s heart races at the sight of you. Granted, that has always been the case but he’s starting to think about you all the time.

You still sleep in your separate rooms, though you’ll occasionally sneak into his room in the late hours of the night holding your pillow and softly chanting ‘sleepover’. And Megumi’s heart just swells, moving aside in his tiny single bed to make room for you to curl into his side, your leg thrown over his waist and your hand clutching his shirt.

You are his first thought every morning.

Whether you’re still sleeping beside him, cooking breakfast, doing your makeup in your room or already at work or college; you are all he thinks about. Most of the time he thinks about good things, but sometimes he thinks about the not-so-good things.

Like if you’re getting tired of him.

Or if you think he’s too possessive or too clingy or too needy or too much–

“I’m home!” you exclaim from the front door. You have your hands full holding take-out bags, your apron still tied around your waist (Megumi pictures you walking around in public still wearing the brown-coloured apron with the little bear on it and your name tag still pinned to your shirt because you always forget to take it off).

Megumi is quick to appear in the hallway, effortlessly lifting the bags from your hands as you attempt to kick your shoes off, hopping on one foot and cursing like a sailor when they don’t cooperate.

“Hi,” Megumi greets, voice soft and a little tired.

He always waits up for you, even when you have a midnight closing shift and he’s been awake since five in the morning. When he knows you’re finishing late, he makes sure to text you at exactly 12:16, a minute after your shift actually ends. He likes to make sure you’re okay, even if he won’t admit it.

“Hi, Gumi,” you beam, a wide smile on your face as you press up on your tiptoes to press a kiss to his cheek. You giggle when his face flushes slightly and he averts his gaze to avoid you catching him blushing. But you think it’s so unbelievably cute.

“How ws’ work?” He asks, dropping the take-out bags on the counter in the kitchen.

“Boring,” you whine, dropping your car keys (Megumi’s car keys) in the bowl by the door and shrugging off your jacket. “Some guy had me re-make his coffee, like, five times at 11:55! How rude.” You mumble the last part with a scowl on your face.

“Mm, you should have just pretended to remake it,” Megumi mutters, unpacking the take-out from the plastic bags and grabbing some plates for the two of you.

“Oh, I did,” you reply with a cheeky grin, “after the fourth try, I just shook it and gave it back to him… It seemed to work ‘cus he said it was perfect.”

Megumi gives an amused smile, “that’s my girl.”

You smile sweetly at the nickname, padding over to Megumi and wiggling your hands through his arms to wrap your hands around his waist, pressing your front to his broad back.

“I missed you, Gumi,” you nuzzle into his warmth just between his shoulder blades.

“Missed you too,” Megumi says after a beat, lifting a hand to squeeze your arm still wrapped around his waist.

Megumi seems tired, though his voice is laced with something else a little sadder and you know when Megumi gets like that it’s because he’s thinking. And you’ve been so busy with work and the rapidly approaching final exams, that you haven’t been home as much as you want to.

“What’s wrong?” You ask quietly, twisting yourself around Megumi to peer up at his tired face.

“M’fine,” Megumi replies after a short pause.

You frown, “...what’re you thinking about then?”

Megumi hates how you know him. After the catastrophe that was his confession to you, you’ve been more sensitive to and observant of Megumi’s changes in behaviour. You can now so easily tell the difference between Megumi’s genuine exhaustion and when his thoughts start to spiral into insecurity and anxiousness.

“Just stuff.” Ah, Megumi Fushiguro, a man of many words.

“You wanna tell me about it?” You don’t ever push. Sometimes Megumi does want to talk about it, other times he just wants to curl up on the couch with you to distract himself. It worries you no matter what though.

Megumi knows he should talk about it with you. He’s been trying really hard to tell you about things that are bothering him since when he used to talk about it with his ex, she would rattle off insults about him being too clingy or too nervous or too paranoid.

But you’re different.

You pay attention to him, holding his hand so gently and letting him get the words out on his own, no matter how long it takes or how much he stumbles over his thoughts.

It took him about forty minutes to ask you if you’d be his girlfriend.

“And I… I think that–” Megumi cuts himself off, running a hand through his messy hair and avoiding eye contact with you by staring at the ceiling then the floor.

Your hand holding his is making him even more nervous. Your thumb strokes over his knuckles, your knee touching his as the two of you sit on the couch, the movie you were watching long forgotten.

“Do you… Is it okay with you if we, uh. Fuck… We’re dating, right?”

You chuckle softly, “yeah, we’re dating,” you ponder for a moment. “You’ve been taking me on dates, right?”

Megumi gives an amused huff, “that’s what they were intended as.”

“Okay, then I’m confident in saying that yes, we’re dating,” you giggle.

Megumi always over-thinks the plans he makes. Wondering if you will like the picnic he planned (with the help of Nobara and Yuko who were sending him far too many pinterest screenshots at 3am), wondering if you’d like the restaurant he picked (you’re determined to try almost everything on the menu and claim he’ll have to roll you home), and wondering if you still like him.

He knows it’s irrational. You are always so excited to see him at the end of every day, always so excited to tell him about your day and ask about his even if he spent the whole day at home.

“Will you… Would you want me to be your boyfriend?” Fuck. He asked it wrong. “Wait, I meant will you be my girlfriend?”

The smile that spills across your face is so happy and so bright and you crash tackle him onto the couch, squealing in delight and pressing kisses to his face as Megumi just chuckles (mostly with relief). “I would love to be your girlfriend!”

“Really?”

“Of course! …It was so worth the forty-five minutes of stammering–”

“Hey!”

“M’just thinking about you,” Megumi finally forces out, a nervous pit forming in his stomach as his eyes flicker around the room, unable to meet your gaze.

“Good things, I hope,” you reply, slipping your hands into Megumi’s and playing with his warm fingers. You know deep down he’s feeling anxious and worried about things regarding you and your relationship, you know none of it is malicious because that’s just the way Megumi is; always thinking.

Megumi shrugs, “js’ worried about me being… too paranoid and stuff.”

Your expression softens and you reach a hand up to cup Megumi’s jaw, gently forcing his head to tilt down and his gaze to meet yours. Your eyes flicker between his and you smile softly, “you’re not too paranoid, Megumi. You’re a good person and you worry about doing and saying the right thing.”

Megumi chews on the inside of his cheek, “...you sure?”

“Always,” you beam. “You never have to worry about me… ‘cus I like-like you,” you giggle quietly.

Megumi’s lips tug into a smile, “I like-like you too.”

You press up on your tiptoes, hands snaking around Megumi’s neck to toy with the shorter baby hairs at his nape. His eyes glance down to your lips, still tinted pinkish with the strawberry-flavoured lipgloss you love so much.

You smile before leaning up to press a slow peck to his lips, revelling in the way Megumi gently pulls you closer by your waist, hands so big yet so gentle as they hold you close to his body. You taste like strawberries, some of your lipgloss smearing onto Megumi’s lips.

You chuckle lightly, lifting your thumb to rub the gloss off his lips, “Ozawa asked if we wanted to hang out Saturday night too.”

Megumi moves some of your hair out of your face, “doing what?”

“Mm, bowling and arcade games? Maybe some drinks? I thought it would be nice to hang out with them since we haven’t in a while,” you shrug.

Megumi hums, “if you want to.”

You smile softly, “only if you want to.”

“I never want to.”

“Yeah, I know,” you chuckle. Megumi isn’t exactly social, he would prefer to stay cooped up in the apartment with you, both of you lounging around in your pyjamas and watching movies or playing video games (a.k.a. Megumi playing CoD while you play Animal Crossing).

Megumi watches your expression falter a little and his heart squeezes, “but I’ll go.”

Your face lights up, “really?”

“Mhm,” he hums, “I’ll win you a plushie in the claw machine.”

“A Hello Kitty one?”

“Sure.”

“Yay!”

—

You practically sprint toward Yuko when you see her. She’s sitting at a bar table next to Yuji, his hand resting on her thigh, but she promptly swats his hand away and leaps off the barstool to tackle you in a crushing hug.

“Eee! Y/N, I’ve missed you!” Yuko sways you from side to side, able to bear hug you with how much taller she is than you (and with her chunky heels on). “I haven’t seen you in, like, so long.”

“I saw you three days ago,” you giggle against her shoulder.

“Yeah, but that was work, it doesn’t count,” she tuts, pulling away from you and giving you a disapproving look.

“Right, of course,” you roll your eyes playfully.

Yuko peers behind you at your bored-looking boyfriend who stands a few feet away from you with his hands stuffed in his pockets and your adorable pink kitty bag slung over his shoulder, “hi, Fushiguro… cute purse.”

Megumi sticks his hand up in a half-assed wave, “m’trying something different,” he jokes with a bored expression. Anyone who didn’t know Megumi would think he was being dead serious with how his jokes tend to come across.

Yuko chuckles, “come on, we’ve been waiting for you guys forever.” Yuko tugs on your hand and you reach your own hand out for Megumi, who catches you easily with his long strides and laces his fingers with yours.

“Heeey!” Yuji drawls, “what took you dorks so long?”

“Traffic, you know,” you shrug.

That’s a lie; Megumi was too busy laying you down on the dining room table so he could stick his head under your skirt and eat you out because you looked so damn cute in your pretty outfit.

“Sure,” Yuji gives a Megumi a shit-eating grin, to which Megumi rolls his eyes and moves to pull a chair out for you at the table.

“You want a drink?” Megumi asks, peering down at you as he helps you into your chair.

“Mmm, surprise me,” you smile, pressing a kiss to Megumi’s cheek and inwardly beaming at how his cheeks dust a little pink at your affection, especially in front of his friends.

“Sure,” Megumi ruffles your hair, but not enough to ruin it because he knows you spent a lot of time making it look pretty in the bathroom mirror. Megumi promptly disappears into the huge crowd forming around the bar (given it’s a Saturday night, you’re not exactly surprised).

“You two are so cute,” Yuko nudges your shoulder playfully.

You smile, “he’s cute.”

Nobara makes gagging sounds from across the table, “boo, get a room.”

Maki elbows her, “you’re just jealous ‘cus you don’t have a boyfriend,” she says cooly, taking a sip of her martini.

“Rude,” Nobara retorts, dramatically rubbing her shoulder.

“S’okay, Nobara, we’ll fine you a boyfriend,” Yuko chuckles.

“Ew, no thanks,” Nobara scoffs, “men are gross.”

“That’s not very nice,” Yuji whines, his voice muffled from the mouthful of burger shoved in his face.

Nobara raises her brows and points at him, “see?”

Yuko chuckles and picks up a napkin, gently wiping the sauce and crumbs from Yuji’s cheek. He just sits there with a little smile on his face (if he was a dog his tail would be wagging happily, let’s be honest).

You chat with everyone for a while, finally meeting Maki’s boyfriend Yuta and his friend Inumaki (who doesn’t talk much from what you’ve gathered). But as soon as the boys leave to grab more drinks from the bar (they noticed Megumi was at the front of the line and decided to hijack his spot), Nobara and Yuko lean in toward you while Maki rolls her eyes.

“So…” Nobara drawls, scooting her chair closer to yours.

You look at your friends, the tips of your ears feeling hot from the sudden attention. “What?” You huff out a nervous laugh.

“You and Fushiguro done the ol’...” Nobara wiggles her brows childishly to emphasise her point.

You roll your eyes playfully, “that’s none of your business.”

“So that’s a no,” Maki chimes in matter-of-factly.

You’ve only met Maki a handful of times but you like her. She’s quiet and intimidating but she always offers sound advice as opposed to Nobara who lives for disrupting your peace.

But no, you and Megumi haven’t had sex yet. You’ve come close a few times but Megumi is quick to hold back, instead kissing down your tits and your tummy to eat you out or slipping his fingers into your panties to get you off.

It’s not that you don’t want to have sex. You absolutely do. You don’t want anyone other than Megumi to be the one to take your virginity.

But Megumi avoids it and he always seems to be battling some kind of inner turmoil when you hint at him having sex with you. Whether you ask if he’s got a condom or you reach for the waistband of his pants– he’s quick to redirect you and you want to ask him, you really do, but it makes you wonder if he’s unhappy with you or maybe he simply doesn’t want to have sex with you.

You try not to be insecure about it because Megumi loves being between your legs, he loves touching you behind closed doors and worshipping you with kisses and lovebites. And he loves it even more when you’re on your knees in front of him, his hands wrapped around your hair and pulling into a makeshift ponytail so you can take him into your mouth uninterrupted (you’re getting pretty good at it, you think).

But it still makes feel insecure.

“You should do it whenever you’re ready,” Yuko smiles warmly, her hand holding yours. You love your best friend to pieces, always the voice of reason in these situations.

But the thing is; you are ready. It’s Megumi who holds back.

“Yeah, I know,” you sigh, squeezing Yuko’s hand gently.

“I got you this… thing,” Megumi suddenly appears behind you, placing down a fizzy sweet-looking pink drink topped with edible glitter and a little umbrella. “The bartender said it was popular.”

You smile in delight, “oh it’s so pretty! Thank you, Gumi,” You turn in your chair and plant a hard kiss to the underside of Megumi’s jaw.

“‘Welcome,” Megumi replies, nursing his own drink (which looks exceptionally normal compared to yours).

Megumi pulls a chair around to sit beside you, basically forcing Nobara to move over (who attempts to put up a fight but Megumi simply moves her himself). You rest your head on Megumi’s shoulder and he goes a little stiff at the simple form of affection.

Megumi isn’t big on PDA, he prefers to show you how much he cares for you in the privacy of your apartment or when he’s confident that the two of you are alone. But you like showing him off, holding his hand, peppering his face with kisses, hugging him from behind as you wait in line at the grocery store. You’re a little snuggle bug and Megumi is slowly, slowly, getting used to it.

“You gonna win me a Hello Kitty plushie, right?” you tease, wrapping your hands around Megumi’s muscular arm.

“Even if it takes me five tries,” he replies with an amused smile.

It takes him more than ten.

“This shit is a scam,” Megumi grunts, giving an annoyed kick to the neon purple machine filled with soft pastel plushies.

You stand beside him laughing into your hand, “s’okay, Gumi–”

“I’ve spent like forty dollars,” he huffs, “on one machine.”

“Come on, we should play something else,” you tug on his arm, “I already have about four of every sanrio plushie anyway,” you shrug.

Megumi’s jaw clenches and he sighs in frustration, eventually giving in to your protests and letting you tug him off the claw machine to play some other game. The arcade is huge, there are plenty of other games to spend forty dollars on instead of a goofy claw machine.

“We should play space invaders– oh! Or DDR!” you beam.

“I don’t have the coordination for DDR… or the energy,” Megumi grumbles.

You giggle, “right, let’s play space invaders.”

Megumi trails behind you the whole evening, playing games with you and absolutely refusing to let you pay for any of them. You always pull some coins out or your card and he promptly swats your hand away or wraps his strong arm around your middle, pinning your arms to your sides and lifting you away from the machine so he can pay.

You appreciate him doing this with you considering he doesn’t like being social all that much (all his friends think it’s crazy you managed to get him to come along tonight). But really, you know Megumi isn’t doing it because he wants to, he’s doing it because you want to and it makes your heart swell and your body want to melt into a puddle of happiness.

“Oh, boo, this is a scam,” you mutter to yourself as you attempt to win yourself a My Melody plushie in a new claw machine. Megumi was dragged off by Yuji to play some shooting game with Yuta and Inumaki and you snuck off to play another claw machine (and pay without him knowing). You saw that the plushie looked loose and you were sure you could win it if you nudged the claw just right.

You gave up after three tries and grabbed your bag to rejoin your boyfriend and his friends on the other side of the arcade. You spot your pretty boyfriend quickly, giggling as you hear him bickering with Yuji over not shooting straight.

“Uh, hey,” a voice appears beside you.

“Hm?” You peer to the side and notice a taller guy wearing a beanie looking at you, he’s holding a plushie out toward you.

“I saw you trying to win that pink bunny thing…” he holds out the My Melody plushie you were attempting to win.

“Oh,” you beam, “that’s really sweet!”

He laughs softly, “that’s okay… I’m Ino.”

“I’m Y/N–”

You suddenly feel a looming presence behind you. You peer up at Megumi, his eyes harsh and narrowed toward this guy talking to you.

“Uh, hi?” Ino forces out.

“Can I help you?” Megumi deadpans, his jaw slightly clenched in annoyance.

Ino barely offers him a glance, “I was just giving this pretty girl the plushie thing she was trying to win–”

“She doesn’t want it,” Megumi forces his lips into a condiscending smile.

Ino looks between the two of you before clearing his throat, “boyfriend, huh?”

“Mhm,” Megumi hums, his hand snaking around your waist and grabbing at your hip.

“Right,” Ino nods, “sorry, man.” He doesn’t seem sorry with how he mockingly laughs at Megumi’s protectiveness of you.

“Whatever,” Megumi huffs.

Ino promptly disappears, handing the plushie off to some other drunk girl on his way out. You chew on the inside of your lip before turning to Megumi, “Gumi–”

“What?” Megumi spits, a little harsher than he meant it.

You press your lips together, “nevermind,” you sigh, forcing his arm off you and leaving to join Yuji, Yuko and the others, Megumi trudging behind with his hands in his pockets and feeling his mood rapidly plummeting into a mix of annoyance and insecurity.

Megumi’s jaw is tight with tension and he feels like shit because he didn’t watch his tone when he talked to you. He gets protective of you and perhaps a little jealous. And he knows it’s stupid being annoyed and upset over not being able to win you a fucking plushie from a children’s arcade game, but he promised you and this guy managed to do it in one try and actively sought you out to give it to you.

“You two okay?” Yuko asks curiously, almost startling Megumi as he stands at yet another claw machine.

Yuko saw the way your mood immediately changed after your interaction with that guy, instantly becoming a little sad and not as bubbly and talkative as your little group moved around to play more games.

Sure Megumi wasn’t always super affectionate toward you in public, but he wasn’t even staying near you or holding your hand anymore.

“Fine,” Megumi retorts, eyes still glued to the pink plushie he’s trying to win you.

“...Did she upset you?”

“No.”

“Did you upset her?”

“I don’t know,” Megumi shrugs.

Yuko sighs, “maybe you should talk to her.”

“She doesn’t want to talk to me.”

Yuko lets out an amused laugh, “Fushiguro, she always wants to talk to you.”

Megumi feels a pang in his chest at that, feeling bad that he didn’t even attempt to drag you off to the bathroom or outside so he could talk to you. He’s still trying to get better at the talking, he was just fucking embarrassed.

The machine suddenly chimes, a little song playing as a plushie falls in behind the collection door.

“Hey, you won,” Yuko beams.

Megumi bends down, pulling the plushie out of the machine and scoffing; it wasn’t the My Melody plushie he as aiming for.

Yuko laughs, plucking the bored-looking penguin plushie from his hand and holding it up, “I see the resemblance.”

“Who even is this?” Megumi takes it back, squeezing the soft toy in his large hands,

“It’s Badtz Maru,” Yuko replies, “looks a bit like you.”

“Mm,” Megumi makes a noise of annoyance.

Yuko nudges his shoulder, “she might like it even more,” she sings softly.

Megumi walks around the arcade looking for you, peering around corners and looking through the claw machine section in search of you. He can’t find you. He spots Itadori, Inumaki, Yuta and Maki but can’t find you anywhere. He asks Yuko and Nobara and they shake their heads with a shrug.

How did no one know where you were?

“Where’d she go?” Nobara looks around for you.

“I’ll call her,” Yuko offers.

“S’okay, I’ll call her,” Megumi replies, pressing on your contact and holding his phone to his ear. The call rings before your voice message comes through. Megumi grunts in annoyance. He starts to worry as he texts you a few times, asking where you are. You don’t respond in the record speed you normally do and he shoves his phone back into his pocket.

He walks around the arcade a few more times, then he finally spots you.

He relaxes a little at the sight of you, but it’s short lived when he spots that fucking guy again. He’s leaning against the wall, basically trapping you in a corner as you attempt to curl away from him, your back flush against the wall.

“U-Uh, I should get back to my friends,” you laugh nervously, your hands wrapping tightly around the strap of your purse.

“Lemme walk you t’them then,” he offers.

You look around anxiously, chewing on the inside of your cheek. “Uh, no thanks, I can go myself–” Ino suddenly puts a hand on your upper arm.

Megumi surges forward, slightly blinded by anger and annoyance as he pushes the guy away from you, forcing some space between you. Ino stumbles back, clearly intoxicated with how he struggles to catch himself, his hands flailing around to catch himself against the wall.

“She said back off,” Megumi spits, forcing himself in front of you protectively.

“I ws’ just talking to her,” Ino slurs back.

“And she doesn’t want to talk to you,” Megumi retorts, forcing him onto his feet and half-pushing him away. “So fuck off.”

Ino scoffs, “whatever, bro. Was just tryna be nice.” Megumi rolls his eyes at the shitty excuse, jaw clenched angrilly until the guy finally leaves, stumbling off back to the bar.

Megumi suddenly hears you sniffle and his expression instantly softens, shoulders relaxing as he spins around to look at you. You have your back pressed against the wall, your face a little flushed with embarrassment. Your hands are pressed to your face, hiding yourself from him.

“Baby?” Megumi coos, reaching a gentle hand out to pull your hands away from your pretty face.

“M’sorry,” you mumble, your bottom lip quivering as your eyes gloss over with tears.

Megumi’s heart sinks and he sighs, pulling you to his chest to crush you in a hug, a hand stroking the back of your hair. You press your face into his chest, staying there for a moment and melting into his warmth.

“M’sorry I was mean,” he says against your hair.

“You weren’t mean,” you mumble, “I was being dumb.”

“You’re not dumb, Y/N. You thought he was doing a nice thing for you,” Megumi replies. He pauses for a moment before deciding to admit his thoughts to you, “...I was js’ jealous.”

You pull away from him, a bit of your makeup staining the fabric of his black shirt. “Why were you jealous?”

You never thought Megumi could be jealous. He always seems so laidback and bored that you assumed everything was water off a duck’s back to him. But you were obviously sorely mistaken.

“M’always jealous when it’s you,” Megumi shrugs, eyes glancing away as he admits it to you, his face dusted a light pink.

You grin cutely, “you like-like me,” you poke his chest.

“Shut up,” Megumi mumbles, earning a soft laugh from you. He suddenly remembers the Badtz Maru plushie in his other hand. He lifts it up toward you, “I won this for you.”

You pout, “really?”

“Mhm,” Megumi nods, handing it to you.

You squish the softness in your hands before giggling, “looks like you.”

“I don’t see it,” he grumbles.

“He could be your son!”

“It’s a plushie, Y/N.”

Megumi has a winning streak after the two of you make up, winning you a bag of sweets, a pair of earbuds in that impossible to win string-cutting game, and wins you a Hello Kitty plushie that is almost half the size of you.

You carry it around with a big smile plastered across your face and earning jealous glances from other people who have obviously been trying to win the massive toy. You walk around with it under your arm, your other hand in Megumi’s.

“You guys ready to go?” Yuji asks, “‘cus I am officially broke.”

Yuko giggles, “okay, lets go, baby.”

Yuji plants a kiss on Yuko’s nose, then another on her cheek, then another on her forehead before peppering kisses in a circle around her face, his hands resting on her hips as she giggles.

You smile softly at them, your hand unintentionally squeezing Megumi’s.

“Yuck, get a room!” Nobara gags.

Megumi watches you smile at your friends, resting your head against his shoulder. He feels his heart thumping in his chest, suddenly feeling the urge to show you the same affection. He doesn’t like PDA, he thinks its gross and people should just save it for the privacy of their home. But he can see how people like it, being able to show off their partner in public so people know they belong to them and no one else.

You feel Megumi’s eyes on you and you peer up at him, “you okay, Gumi?”

He suddenly presses a soft kiss to your lips, his hand coming up to cup your jaw, thumb stroking over your cheekbone. You smile against his lips and he pulls away, planting another kiss to your cheek then your hair.

You grin at him when he pulls away from you, “what was that for?”

Megumi shrugs, “I just wanted to.”

You point your finger at him, “who are you and what have you done with my boyfriend?”

Megumi rolls his eyes, “oh, ha-ha.”

—

You sigh with relief once you kick your heels off at the door, your shoes landing haphazardly in the corner as you lug your new plushies down the hall. Megumi follows you, dropping his keys in the bowl on the side table in the hallway.

You and Megumi have made up, but Megumi still has something on his mind. He knows exactly what it is but he feels weird bringing it up again since you’ve already worked it out.

But you can tell there’s something on his mind.

You drop your plushies in your room, putting your Badtz Marui plush on your bed so you can sleep next to it (it can be your Megumi stand-in when he’s busy or away). Megumi is sitting on the couch when you come out of your room, he’s scrolling on his phone absentmindedly, jaw tight with tension.

You pad over to him, gently pulling his head back to rest on the back of the couch. You peer over him, your hands gently resting on his shoulders.

“You okay, Gumi?” You ask, lifting your hands to stroke your thumbs across his jaw.

“M’fine,” he replies.

You frown, “don’t do that.”

“Do what?”

“Not tell me,” you sigh. “I can tell when you’re sad or you’re thinking about stuff, I want you to be able to talk to me.”

“I really am fine, Y/N,” he huffs, pullin away from your hands and getting up off the couch.

“I’m not your ex, Megumi,” you stare at the back of his head.

Megumi visibly stiffens, “...I know that.”

“Do you?” You ask without thinking, “because I really care about you n’ I’ve been trying to be patient and understanding but I–” you cut yourself off, sighing sadly.

Megumi turns to look at you, his teeth gnawing on the inside of his cheek like he always does when he’s nervous. “I know you’re not her, Y/N. You’ve never made me feel the way she has.”

Your shoulders relax and you glance away. You still get insecure about Megumi having an ex, mostly because she’s got to see parts of him you haven’t yet, but in the same breath, she was awful to him and is part of the reason he’s wound so tight and struggles to talk.

You don’t even think when it falls from your mouth, “why don’t you want to have sex with me?”

Megumi’s eyes widen and he feels his heart in his throat. He stiffens, unable to form anything other than– “W-What?”

You sigh, “I know it’s stupid. I just… I wanna have sex… with you. And it just seems like you don’t want to… with me.”

Megumi’s heart aches painfully. Of course he wants to have sex with you. He wants to every day like some kind of maniac, but you’re too good for him (at least that’s what he thinks). And it’s important to him that your first time is perfect and special and Megumi can be a fucking wreck a lot of the time, unable to communicate simple things with you, unable to convey his feelings in a way that’s coherent and not total gibberish.

He can’t shake the fear of him being too needy and paranoid toward you. You’re so special to him and he fears losing you. Fears that one wrong move will send you packing or make you hate him.

“I…” Megumi squeezes his hands into fists, trying to release the tension inside his chest. “Y/N, I do want to.”

You peer up at him, eyes glossed over, “...I’ve beent trying to like… hint at it but you–”

“I’m scared,” Megumi sighs, running a hand through his hair. “I mean… I’m not scared, m’just worried.”

Your brows furrow, “worried?”

“I want it to be special for you,” Megumi admits, “I’m just always thinking that I’m not special enough for you.”

Your heart cracks and you feel like crying and wrapping Megumi up and crushing him in a bear hug and covering him in kisses. Because how could he not think he’s special enough for you?

“Gumi,” you sigh out his nickname and he wipes his eyes. You pout, padding around the couch to press your body against him, wrapping your arms around his waist in a tight hug.

He hugs you back, chin resting on your head gently.

“You’re perfect for me, Gumi,” you murmur. “There’s no one else I trust more in the world than you.”

Megumi squeezes you a little tighter, “I’m not good at talking.”

You squeeze your eyes shut, “I know.”

“I want to be better at it, ‘cus you’re my priority now,” he says, heart beating rapidly in his chest at his confession. “And I’m worried that I’m too paranoid or needy… I don’t want to– I can’t lose you.” You pull away from him a fraction, a tear slipping down your cheek. Megumi catches it, “don’t cry. Please.”

You sniffle, “I don’t want to lose you either, Megumi.” You wrap your arms around his neck, his strong arms still wrapped around the small of your back. “But you need to talk to me, even if you think it’s stupid… Because I tell you stupid stuff all the time and you still listen.”

Megumi chuckles softly, “yeah, I know.”

You cup his cheek, beaming as he leans into your touch, “offer yourself a little kindness, Gumi. You’re too hard on yourself.”

He knows you’re right, you’re always right.

He nods, “I’m gonna try,” he sighs.

“You’re already doing good,” you praise, “I’m still going to be here no matter what.”

“Promise?”

You grin, “I promise.” You hook your pinky with his.

“Then I have something else I need to tell you,” he forces out.

You frown, “okay…”

“I didn’t like that that guy grabbed you,” Megumi huffs, “it made me really fucking mad.”

You chuckle softly, “you handled it, though.”

“But still,” Megumi’s jaw clenches. “Asshole.”

“You don’t like that some other guy touched me?”

“I wanted him dead right then and there,” Megumi’s arms squeeze around you a little tighter.

“Mm, that’s pretty hot,” you giggle.

“...Hot?” Megumi seems confused.

You shrug, “yeah… I like that my boyfriend wants me all to himself.”

Megumi pauses, any words that he could possibly think of getting caught in his throat. Your giggles die in your chest as Megumi’s steely eyes bore into you, an intensity settling in the air.

“Gumi?”

Megumi’s eyes flicker down to your lips, “m’gonna kiss you.”

You grin, “I’d never be opposed to that,” you whisper.

Megumi’s lips are on yours in an instant, his big hands resting on your hips and pulling you against him. One of his hands rests on the back of your neck, tilting your head to the side to deepen the kiss. He forces a whine from your lips when his tongue swipes across your glossed lips. He pushes his tongue into your mouth, slowly backing you up against the wall and knocking some poor unsuspecting vase onto the floor.

It smashes on the ground and you yelp in surprise, “G-Gumi–”

“We’ll fucking clean it later,” he grunts, forcing your jaw to tilt upward so he can kiss you again. Your hands squeeze the fabric of his shirt, your tits pressing against his chest as he grinds his hard-on against your thigh.

The two of you awkwardly crash through your apartment before you finally get to your bedroom door, giggling at how eager Megumi is to get you onto your bed. Your bed is a little bigger than his and always makes it easier for cuddle sessions and Megumi always looks so cute with his dark hair and dark clothes in your pretty pink, white and pastel room.

Your hands tug at the hem of his shirt, pushing the fabric up his abdomen and chest. Megumi helps you, finally pulling his shirt over his head and tossing it across the room. His lips connect with yours again, forcing you back until the back of your thighs hit the mattress. Megumi lets go of you, letting you fall back.

You giggle, scooting yourself up your bed and eyeing your strikingly hot boyfriend with his pretty abs out and staring down at you like he wants to devour you. Megumi just stares at you, his eyes raking over your pretty spread thighs, peeking at your lacy pink panties under your skirt, almost salivating at how pretty your tits look almost spilling out of your top– his eyes meet yours, your pretty eyes wide with lust and just pure adoration.

You are his favourite person.

“I love you.”

You pause, lips parting slightly as Megumi’s words finally sink in. You press up on your elbows, eyes widening, “what did you say?”

Megumi presses his lips together, wondering if he should back track. But no, he needs to be honest with you and himself, he owes it to you and to himself. “I said I love you.”

“You love me?” you pause, your bottom lip sticking out in a pout.

Megumi crawls onto the bed, body hovering over yours and his hands pinned on other side of your head as he just looks at you, taking in every part of you. “You told me I should be honest.”

You beam, “Megumi–”

“Don’t say anything,” he says softly, “js’ let it stay out there for a minute.”

You close your mouth, a smile tugging at your lips. Megumi grins at you, the prettiest smile you’ve ever seen, before he leans his head down, pressing his lips to yours. It’s slow and so loving, he’s gentle with you as one hand comes up to cradle your face.

He pulls away after a minute and you smile, “I love you too.”

Megumi pauses before he lets out an amused laugh, “yeah?”

“Yeah,” you giggle.

“Say it again,” he teases.

“I love you,” you whisper, holding his face in your hands. Megumi leans down, pressing a wet kiss to your neck. You tilt your head up to give him more access as his teeth gently nip at your skin.

“Again.”

“I love you, Gumi,” you whine out as he sucks on a particularly sensitive part of your neck, leaving a angry red mark on your skin.

Megumi’s hand slips under your top, pushing it up your tummy and over your tits. You help him pull your top over your head, leaving you in your skirt and your pretty pink lacy bra that makes your boobs sit like pretty soft pillows against your chest.

“S’beautiful,” Megumi mutters, trailing kisses down your neck and down between your tits, his hand snaking under your body to unclasp your bra.

No matter how many times Megumi sees you naked, you still get nervous under how intense yet adoring his gaze is. You feel your heart hammer in your chest as Megumi toys with your hardened nipples, his eyes occasionally flickering up to your face to catch your gaze.

“Don’t look at me like that,” you whine.

Megumi chuckles, “like what? Like I love you?”

“Like you want to devour me,” you correct with an amused laugh.

“Mm, no promises,” he smiles, pressing a peck to your lips.

Megumi’s large veiny hand squeezes your soft breast, kneading the flesh in his hand while flicks his tongue over your hardened nipple, leaving hot wet kisses all over the pretty mound of skin. Your hand tangles in his hair, forcing his mouth down further. He gives a gentle bite to your skin, forcing a pretty whimper from your lips.

Megumi kisses down your tummy, one hand still squeezing your breast while the other trails up your thigh and underneath your skirt. You feel your skin prickle at the feeling of his gentle fingers trailing across your soft skin, his lips leaving a trail of wet kisses down your body.

You tug on Megumi’s wrist, forcing him back up your body, “what is it, baby?” He asks breathlessly.

You press a peck to his lips, “I wan’ you to touch me,” you murmur against his slightly chapped lips.

“Oh yeah?” Megumi asks, his tone a little teasing.

“Mhm,” you nod quickly.

Megumi chuckles, trailing his hands up the inside of your thigh and pressing his fingers against the damp patch forming on your panties, “mm, someone’s excited,” he teases.

“Shut up,” you mutter, forcing his lips back onto yours.

Megumi rubs against your clothed clit, feeling his cock twitch in his boxers at the sounds you were making because of him. The smell of your arousal lingers in the air of your room as Megumi forces your legs to spread open a little more, finally slipping his hand down your panties to feel your slick pussy against his fingers.

“S’wet, princess,” he murmurs against your cheek.

“All f’you,” you whine as Megumi nudges your clit with the tip of his middle finger.

Megumi pulls his hand from your panties, forcing you to whimper at the loss of contact but he quickly slips his fingers into the sides of your panties, pulling the soaked fabric down your legs and tossing them onto the floor.

Megumi manhandles you into his lap, laying his upper body against your headboard and forcing you to sit between his legs with your back to his chest.

“W-What are we doing?”

Megumi gently holds your jaw, forcing you to look at the mirror across the room in front of your bed, the same mirror you take your cute little outfit of the day photos in every day. You suddenly feel embarrassed seeing yourself so vulnerable. Your legs are spread, one knee hooked over Megumi’s muscular forearm while the other is propped up, forcing your soaked pussy lips open.

“Look how pretty you are,” Megumi mutters against your ear, his large hand squeezing at your tits.

“Gumi, this is embarrassing,” you whine.

Megumi presses a kiss to your cheek, “just watch.”

You press your mouth closed as Megumi trails his fingers down your tummy, dragging two of his fingers down your glistening slit. You throw your head against his shoulder as he nudges your neglected clit, fingertips circling the little bundle of nerves agonisingly slowly.

“F-Faster, Gumi, please,” you moan, your hands squeezing Megumi’s strong thighs.

“Shh,” Megumi coos, “be patient, baby.”

Megumi slips his fingers down your slit, pressing his middle finger against your sopping hole. Your thighs instinctively spread apart further and Megumi slowly slips his finger inside you, his long finger dragging against your gummy walls.

You whine, hand gripping his wrist as he starts to curl his finger inside you, pressing against that spongy spot inside you, “m-more.”

Megumi chuckles at your desperation, pressing a second finger into you. You whine at the burning stretch, subconsciously grinding your hips down on his fingers, your ass unknowingly grinding on his hard-on in his boxers.

“Look at you,” Megumi mutters against your ear.

Your eyes flicker up to your reflection. Your skin is covered in a thin sheen of sweat, your baby hairs are stuck to your forehead and Megumi’s eyes are glued to your cunt, watching his thick fingers disappear inside you. You whine, pussy clenching down on his fingers as he fucks them into you.

Megumi presses against the spongey spot inside you, the ball of his palm rubbing against your clit and making you fucking dizzy. You feel your tummy start to burn, your nails scraping against Megumi’s clothed thighs as your hips grind and roll against his hand.

“G-Gumi, m’gonna cum,” you whimper.

“S’okay, baby,” Megumi coos, “cum f’me.”

“N-No,” you force out, your hand wrapping around his strong wrist in an attempt to stop him from forcing an orgasm out of you.

“No?” Megumi slows his movements, the lewd squelching sounds in your room silencing as he gently pulls his fingers from your sopping pussy. “What’s wrong?”

You pant, whimpering as the burn in your tummy fades and you feel so fucking pent up. Megumi’s face is laced with concern as he turns you on your side in his lap. You give him a tired smile, “please.”

“Please, what?”

“Please,” you whine, “I need your cock, Gumi.”

Megumi grunts, “fuck, baby.”

“Please,” you beg, “please, I’ll be s’good.”

Megumi cups your face, pressing his lips hard against yours. Your swollen lips move against his, your hand tangling in his messy hair. Megumi pulls away from you slightly, pressing his arousal-soaked fingers against your tongue. You whine when you taste yourself on his fingers, your tummy jumping with excitement as you suck his fingers clean.

“Such a good girl,” Megumi praises, kissing your forehead.

Megumi forces you onto your back, your body bouncing against the soft mattress slightly. Megumi rests his thighs on either side of your hips, tugging your legs over his hips. You’ve never had your pussy this close to his cock and your mind is reeling with excitement.

Your shaky hands reach for the waistband of his pants but Megumi quickly forces your hands above your head, pinning your wrists together, “you said you’d behave.”

“Mm, you can’t blame me for being excited,” you whine pathetically.

Megumi only chuckles at how damn cute you are before he forces his pants down his hips, kicking them off across the room, leaving him in just his boxers. There’s a wet patch forming on his boxers and your mouth salivates at the idea of him finally fucking you with his big cock that you’ve had in your mouth many times before.

“S’big,” you compliment, wrists wriggling against his large hand still pinning them above your head.

“You sure about this?”

There’s a sudden intense seriousness in the air. You peer up at Megumi and he looks nervous, his teeth nipping at the inside of his bottom lip. He lets go of your wrists and you reach up to cup his face, forcing his steely eyes to meet yours, “Megumi Fushiguro,” you call softly.

“Mm?”

“I love you,” you sigh. “There’s no one I want more to take my virginity than you.”

Megumi lets out a shaky breath, “...you sure?”

“Never been more sure of anything in my life,” you grin.

“Because I really want you to be mine.”

“I’m already yours, Megumi.”

Megumi lets out a huff of a laugh, leaning down to pepper kisses across your forehead and down your nose to your lips, forcing a soft giggle from your chest.

Megumi reaches down slowly, pulling his boxers down his hips until his cock springs free, the angry red tip leaking with precum. You peer down at his pretty cock, eyeing the vein you trace with your tongue every time you suck him off, noting how heavy it is as it struggles to hold itself up.

Megumi sighs, wrapping his hand around the base of his cock and pumping a few times, his eyes never leaving yours. You cup his face, forcing him to kiss you one more time before he sits up, scooting his hips closer to yours.

He eyes you one more time, looking for any sign of regret or hesitation. You don’t offer any, eyes wide and almost sparkling with anticipation. Megumi holds his cock and lets it slap against your tummy, the tip almost reaching your belly button.

Your brows furrow and you wonder what he’s doing. Then it sort of dawns on you.

He’s sizing you up.

“M’gonna be right here,” Megumi presses the tip of his finger to the spot just below your belly button. His eyes meet yours and all you can do is meekly nod, your heart slamming against your chest. You knew Megumi was big but now that he’s fucking sizing you up and showing you where he’s gonna be inside you, you’re starting to get a little nervous.

But fuck you want him inside you.

You buck your hips up and Megumi chuckles, “s’eager.”

“Shut up and fuck me,” you grumble playfully. Megumi smiles, scooting your hips up and leaning over to quickly kiss your forehead one more time.

“You tell me if it gets too much,” Megumi says seriously. “I don’t wanna hurt you.”

You smile, “you won’t hurt me.”

Megumi nods slowly before gently gripping the head of his cock, rubbing the precum-covered tip against your swollen clit. Your hands grip the sheets and you bite your lip to keep the whines at bay. Megumi breathes heavily as he dips his tip down to your soaked hole, your arousal slipping out of you and dripping down your ass.

“Look at me,” Megumi orders softly.

You open your eyes, not realising you’d pressed them closed.

“Please,” Megumi sighs, “I wanna watch your face when I put it in.”

God, this fucking guy is gonna be the death of you.

He presses the tip into your cunt, groaning softly at your tightness as your pussy swallows his tip eagerly. Your thighs instinctively spread open to accommodate his size. He presses into you slowly, letting your tight cunt stretch around him to get used to his size.

“G-Gumi–” you whine out.

“Y-You okay, baby? What’s wrong?” Megumi stills his movements.

You pant slightly, chest heaving, “feels s’good.”

Megumi sighs a little in relief, hand coming up to cup your jaw as he presses his thick cock into you. He’s over halfway when you let out another whimper, your thighs shaking slightly with the stretch.

“Still okay?”

“Mhm, almost in?” you ask.

“Just over halfway.”

“Halfway?!” you force out.

Megumi chuckles before pressing his fingertip to the space between your pretty pussy lips and your belly button. “M’about here.”

“Holy fuck,” you pant. “So fucking big.”

“Don’t flatter me,” he chuckles. “It’ll go straight to my head,” he jokes.

“Mm, s’true.”

Megumi laces his fingers with yours on the sheets, his steely blue eyes staying glued to your face as he pushes the rest of the way in, your soaked pussy sucking him in. Once he finally bottoms out, you let out a shaky sigh at the fullness.

“F-Feel okay?” Megumi’s voice shakes, feeling like he’s gonna cum like a damn teenager with how tight you are around him.

“Mm,” you screw your eyes shut, “you can m-move.”

“You sure?”

“Uh huh,” you nod slowly.

Megumi leans down, lifting your arms and forcing them to wrap around his neck. He plants a kiss to your lips before pulling out– you whine– then he pushes himself back in. Your arms wrap around his neck, forcing Megumi’s head to rest against your shoulder as he pulls almost alllll the way out before plunging back into your tight heat.

“Fuck, you’re so tight,” Megumi groans, his hips snapping against yours as you hook your ankles together behind him, your thighs squeezing his waist. “S’good, princess.”

You moan and whine against his neck, feeling like he’s rearranging your fucking guts with how big his cock is and how hard he’s fucking you. It almost seems like Megumi needed this more than you with how his hips snap hungrily against yours.

You tip your head back, mouth falling open as he forces moan after moan from your pretty swollen lips. Megumi reaches a hand down between your bodies, rubbing his thumb over your neglected clit, forcing you closer and closer to orgasm.

His cock drags against your gummy walls, slick pooling around the base of his cock and soaking the sheets below as your nails drag against Megumi’s strong back, leaving angry red marks in their wake.

Megumi hisses at the feeling, groaning into your hair as he snaps his hips into yours a little faster, thumb still rubbing your clit, your room is filled with lewd squelching sounds, your pussy so wet and tight around him.

You feel the white-hot pleasure of your orgasm approaching, your belly burning as you arch your back off the bed, letting go of Megumi’s shoulders to grip the sheets.

Megumi suddenly sits up on his knees, lifting your hips in his strong hands, creating a new angle that makes you scream out in pleasure. His tip fucks against your cervix, surely leaving a bruise. You feel him in your tummy, his sheer size forming a bulge in your tummy.

“F-Fuck, look at you,” Megumi groans, eyeing the bulge in your tummy.

You toss your head from side to side, your toes curling as Megumi reaches for your hand, forcing you to press down on the bulge in your tummy, his hand over yours.

Then you just cum. There’s no warning as you gush around him, your vision going stark white as you spray your orgasm across Megumi’s pelvis, his thighs, your own thighs and all over the sheets.

“Fuck, did you just squirt?”

You don’t say anything, you can’t. You’re mumbling incoherent noises as Megumi fucks you through your high, his hips snapping harder and harder against yours as he chases his own orgasm. You’re both covered in a thin sheen of sweat and Megumi feels his orgasm fast approaching.

He pulls out of you with a quiet pop, quickly jerking himself off, your arousal making his cock slippery as he cums across your tummy. Hot ropes of cum paint your abdomen and tummy, Megumi panting as he squeezes the base of his cock.

“Mm, you’re fucking perfect, sweet girl,” Megumi praises, panting as he comes down from his high.

“Mm, Gumi,” you whine, voice quiet.

Megumi gently lowers you onto the bed, crawling up your body to cup your face, “are you okay? What’s wrong? Did I hurt you?”

You shake your head, “mm-mm, felt s’good.”

Megumi sighs with relief, “we gotta get you up, you have to pee and I gotta clean up–” he peers down at the utter mess you’ve made of the sheets, “–somehow.”

“Sleepover?” You beam.

Megumi chuckles, “sleepover.”

Megumi carries you to the bathroom, running you a warm bath. The two of you share a bath together, Megumi gently washing you hair for you while you make him a bubble crown. You’re obviously sore with how you limp down the hallway to Megumi’s room, clutching your pillow under your arm.

You rest your head against Megumi’s chest, his fingers gently smoothing over your wet hair and tracing down your bare arm.

“Any regrets?” He asks curiously.

“Mm, no,” you reply with a smile. “You made me squirt my first time having sex… I think you have to marry me,” you giggle.

Megumi chuckles, pressing a kiss to your forehead, “mm, maybe one day.”

You giggle, sitting up to press a kiss to his lips. “I love you.”

“I love you too, sweet girl,” Megumi pauses, “what is that?”

“What’s what?”

“That,” Megumi points to the bored-looking penguin plush he got you. It’s pressed to your chest right between your boobs.

“Oh, you mean your son?”

“Y/N,” he groans. “Get that thing out.”

“I will not!”

“I’ll throw it out the window while you’re sleeping.”

You gasp, “don’t do that to your son!”

“It’s not my son!”

author's note: HEHEHEHEHEHEH

taglist: @starpachinko @2ukika @sukunabish @somethinglikero @wannabewolf @milliex01x @princessa143 @hrithi11 @katsukita69 @slayzzz @arcanefeelings @shirabu-k @izzzzzzig @zah2890 @evergumi @aerareads @flashilyquinn @raedollsstuff @happylildeath @anormieee @l1v1ngzomb1e @kimkimoruo @sunnyf4lls @saekolust @kalulakunundrum @xastoriaaurax @feliaeae @sleepyxzn @raya4643 @kaidostwin

#megooner #jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen #x reader #jjk #megumi x reader #jjk smut #jjk megumi x reader #megumi fushiguro #megumi fushiguro x reader #megumi smut

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frequentlybald · 8 hours ago

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If I must suffer so must the rest of you

ᥫ᭡ 𝐎𝐑𝐀𝐍𝐆𝐄 𝐏𝐄𝐄𝐋𝐒 — (a satoru x reader.)

⟢ featuring. satoru gojo x reader .ᐟ ⟢ warnings. angst, allusions to breaking up, unrequited love .ᐟ ⟢ a/n. first smau ever, of course it had to be angst. also, message credits belong to the original creator, these aren't mine, i found them on pinterest. banner credits to @/dollywons. keep in mind, timestamps are pretty much irrelevent. re-reading it, and there's a freaking typo... gonna kms, don't look too hard .ᐟ

#gojo x reader #im so glad im a megooner and not a gojo enjoyer #satoru gojo x reader #satoru gojo #satoru x reader #jjk #gojo smau #jjk texts #jjk x reader #jjk smau #satoru smau

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frequentlybald · 12 hours ago

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Promoting myself to chief megooner

wolfcut megumi 🐺

ac:Qikiix

#jujutsu kaisen #digital art #anime art #art #jjk #megumi x y/n #megooner #jjk megumi #megumi fushiguro

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frequentlybald · 1 day ago

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My scrumptious megloomy in fortnite because I cannot go a day without him

#megumi fushiguro #jjk megumi #fortnite #jujutsu kaisen

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frequentlybald · 1 day ago

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Nah, Gumi's the best

thinking about... ❝ corruption kink ❞

featuring... megumi fushiguro

content warning: MDNI (18+), afab!reader, girly!reader, alt!megumi, college!au (all characters are around 20-22), opposites attract fr, choking, corruption kink, rough sex??, virgin!reader, masturbation mentions??, dacryphilia, spanking, bruising, marking, size kink, blowjob mentions, dom/sub dynamics, reader is a girly girl and megumi is alt as fuck

author's note: this was requested by a lot of people

── alt!megumi who was infatuated with you from the start.

── you met at some college party and you were just adorable. you wore a pretty pink skirt with frills and lace, and you had pink bows in your hair and your makeup done with pretty blush and glitter.

── and alt!megumi knew he had to have you.

── you were so sweet to him, immediately bubbly and kind, complimenting his tattoos and his piercings and laughing at his sort of terrible jokes.

── and you loved that he was bigger than you and stronger than you, he was dark and brooding and definitely a little intimidating but you always make it a mission to befriend everyone.

── alt!megumi loving how soft and pretty you are and he'd be lying to himself and everyone else if he didn't want to corrupt your sweet little innocence.

── alt!megumi who stands out like a sore thumb in your pastel room, covered in hello kitty posters, fairy lights, sanrio plushies and pretty pink bedspreads and pastel sheets.

── alt!megumi whose dark clothes end up strewn all over your floor, your adorable lacy bloomers and pink skirt in a heap because you can't fucking resist each other anymore.

── alt!megumi who has your kitty sock-clad feet over his shoulders, your little hands gripping the sheets while he fucks into your tight little virgin pussy.

── alt!megumi who knows he's your first with how tight you feel around him, your plush thighs shaking with your approaching orgasm and you don't know what's happening because you've never been able to make yourself cum on your little fingers.

── "g-gumi– what's happening? i f-feel weird–"

── "s'okay, sweetheart... you're gonna cum."

── alt!megumi who loves it when you cry. when you whimper and cling to his shoulders, your pretty acrylic nails scraping down his back because it feels too good and you can't get enough.

── alt!megumi who wants to fucking ruin you for any other guy.

── alt!megumi who fucks you a little rougher the more you get used to his cock.

── he leaves bruises on your pretty hips and likes to leave hickeys all over your neck and down your pretty tits. and he especially loves when you try to ride him.

── it feels too good and you're whimpering and moaning and your movements are so shallow and erratic and megumi knows you need his help but fucking hell he likes to see you beg and whine about being embarrassed.

── alt!megumi who finds out you like to be spanked.

── you try doggy for the first time and your ass is just so damn cute pressed against his hips like that and he can't stop himself.

── he lands a hard spank to your ass and you whimper and gasp at the feeling of his cock deep inside you paired with the sting of his big hand on your ass.

── you clench down hard on him.

── "aw, sweet girl... you like that, huh?"

── he never lets you leave without your ass red and stinging under your cute little skirt, too sore to put on panties and too sore to sit down in a chair so of course you sit in his lap so he can soothe you with kisses and gentle rubs to your thigh.

── alt!megumi who fucking loses it when he sees your adorable pink lacy panties on his bedroom floor, a stark contrast to the dark and alternative vibe of his room.

── he loves seeing you wrapped up in his black sheets, your skin so soft and so warm and your hair still adorned with bows and pink hair tinsel.

── alt!megumi who slips your panties into his back pocket and will act dumb when you ask if he's seen them later.

── alt!megumi who will never fail to be surprised by you. like when he's fucking you a little too soft and you like it rough now because of him, so you tug on his hand and force it around your throat, wanting him to choke you while he fucks into you.

── "holy shit, sweetheart. you just keep me guessin' don't you?"

── alt!megumi who likes how much bigger he is than you, how your hands look so small wrapped around his cock and how your mouth struggles to take him.

── alt!megumi who likes how fucking dumb you get on his dick. begging for more as if you don't feel him inside your tummy and as if you haven't cum on his face, his fingers and his cock about six times.

── alt!megumi who fucking loves you, loves how you leave angry marks down his back, how you leave your cute panties lying around on his bedroom floor, how you send him little pictures of your outfits every day only for them to end up on your floor when he comes over.

── alt!megumi who's the first guy to ever fuck you and will absolutely be the last.

author's note: RARARARARA BARKING ON ALL FOURS

#jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen #jjk #jjk megumi x reader #megumi fushiguro #megumi fushiguro x reader #megumi x reader smut #megumi fushiguro smut #megumi smut #jjk x reader smut #jjk smut #megumi x reader

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frequentlybald · 1 day ago

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Pink Rabbit | Lads Caleb/Reader

Credits to @Silverelitist on X for the cute picture

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You didn’t exactly know what to expect when you invited Caleb to work out with you at the gym. He looked different from before after all, the lean athletic build that had kept bullies at bay had grown…bigger. Toned abdomen gave way to sculpted abs that you had somehow noticed under the fabric of his clothes because how could you not? Legs muscular and thick under the fabric of his black denim jeans, his back was big enough to dwarf you and when he moved you swore you could see the muscles flexing there, begging to be touched. But what always left you flushed and hopelessly distracted were his arms.

Had he always had such nice arms and you never noticed?

There as he completed his last set of pushups before switching to do them one handed like the complete and utter show off he was, those delicious fibers beneath his skin constricted to pull mesmerizing striations across flesh, a pattern for your eyes to feast on as you trailed your gaze up that oh so thick vein on the side of his arm. You wiped the sweat from your brow, panting softly as you stubbornly kicked up the settings of the treadmill you were finishing up your cardio training for.

You needed a distraction, and fast.

Caleb grunted left arm straining with his weight and yet he stayed effortlessly smooth, bobbing up and down from your peripherals as you tried desperately to focus on the sound of the tv speakers.

Didn’t gyms usually play loud music that you could hear over your headphones? Why was this one so quiet?

Save for the soft sounds of a few patrons talking and the clinking of weight machines it felt like all you could hear was the droning of the tv news station doing nothing to cover the sounds that Caleb was making. You risked a glance black, face flushed when in between reports of increased wanderers you heard another strained groan.

Fuck he was so vocal. You don’t remember that from when you had to share a P.E. field.

Caleb switched sides, veins swollen and prominent on his left arm as he tucked it neatly behind his back, he was already back to work, pressing his chest nearly to the floor in steady, slow, bends of his elbow.

You wondered if he was using his evol a little just to flaunt, seemed likely given how often he used his evol to tease you.

He paused, another low groan slipping past his lips, his face rosy from the strain as he held himself in a plank to catch his breath. This was usually when you would make some teasing remark about him needing to do more cardio if he was out of breath, but you found yourself at a loss of words when he glanced up at you, catching you staring at him in that skin tight compression tank that the Caleb you knew would have never picked out. He had always worn hoodies for you to steal off him and even underneath there would be a t shirt at least, now it seemed that the Colonel’s wardrobe was majority sleeveless.

Fuck he really was a show off, and he was smirking at you while you were still staring at how his biceps were bulging. “Enjoying the show pipsqueak?” That look that always said he was flirting with danger reappeared in eyes, you didn’t know what the danger was but at this point it was going to be you because you were already on mile six and felt like you had a nuclear amount of energy to burn.

Stupid fucking Caleb and his stupid fucking muscles.

You kept jogging, shoes thumping on the worn rubber tracks beneath you. “If you didn’t want spectators you shouldn’t have decided to do your pushups right infront of the treadmills.” You couldn’t help the indignation creeping into your tone, you hated feeling embarrassed and Caleb specialized in delivering nothing but that. He kept his head tilted up, looking at you with a raised eyebrow that you knew meant that whatever you had said had amused him.

“C’mon I know you like to watch.” He winked and sat back on his heels, tilting his head back to take a sip of his metal Fleet water bottle you had covered in stickers. You sucked your teeth and glanced away to check the monitor display of the treadmill. You had just finished off your seventh mile and were more than a little...heated. Hitting the stop button on the machine, you slowed to a halt and reached for your towel to wipe the sweat cooling on your skin under the chilly ac vents.

Caleb really was an ass sometimes.

The towel was just out of reach, dangling in the air against all laws of gravity. You reached for it, helplessly, letting out a meager sore legged hop that left you about three inches still too short. “Caleb!” You turned to face him, flushed face already scrunched in a displeasured pout. He was still leaning back on his legs, looking entirely too amused for your liking. You let out another whine, reaching again just for the towel to still be out of reach. “Because of your stunts I’m using the shower first.” You all but spat out, of course it did nothing to get Caleb to drop the towel and finally end his relentless teasing.

Caleb’s amusement was unchanged, a smug grin slipping over his lips as his right brow quirked up again. “You know I don’t mind a little cold shower.” Of course he doesn’t, he’s a psychopath who takes cold showers during winter just to press his cold hands onto the warm skin of your back as soon as he’s dressed.

You huff, deciding with finality that the towel is not worth it and you can just grab another from the rack by the lockers before you head back home to your apartment. You had been meaning to do a little cleaning because god knows despite his apartment in Skyhaven being a spotless, desolate, wasteland, he had a habit of leaving his sour candy wrappers all over your living room. “Whatever, keep the damn towel.” You muttered before darting away to grab your things from the lockers.

______________________________________________________________

The walk back to your apartment was brisk, and like you had warned, you were the first to use the shower. You were busy lathering soap into your hair, doing your best to keep your thoughts as clean as your body was getting, but it was pointless. The sound of Caleb’s groans kept filling your ears until your eyes were blurring, echoing in your head like a dirty lullaby.

A song you just can’t get rid of.

It’s probably what he wanted, he was a tease by nature. Sure he flirted, showed off, but it didn't mean anything. It didn't mean anything when he had practically begged for you to move in with him moments after reuniting and it didn't mean a thing when he reluctantly agreed to settle on visits. But even that was growing more infrequent, you were busy as most hunters were, you had cancelled on visit plans a few more times than you liked to admit. But whether or not it was the distance, Caleb has been more forward recently.

Maybe behind all that teasing there was a genuine interest there, but why would you fuck up a decade long friendship trying to figure that out, he was practically your brother.

Was he though? You had been ogling him like he was on display at the gym.

You rinsed away soap suds from your hair, smoothing water away from your face as you debated whether or not anything was there at all. It could be a fluke, a byproduct of suddenly losing one of the most important people in your life and then gaining them back just as quickly. Maybe the naive you from your childhood that was convinced Caleb would be the man you marry, the man who takes all your first, died with Caleb that day at grandma’s house. You had grown up a little without him, met new people, other men.

You didn’t need him. Even if he still wanted you to.

Of course all of that changed when you padded out into the hall, glancing off handedly as you barely towel dried your hair to see him scrolling on his phone on the couch, still dressed in sweaty gym clothes with the shirt noticeably missing. Those shorts were short, hiking up his muscular thighs to scrunch right where thigh met hip, bare chest on display without a care in the world.

You reminded yourself as you felt your face heating, you had seen Caleb plenty of times without a shirt. But you were still suddenly full of need, thighs pressing together as you plopped down on the other side of the couch.

“Did'ya enjoy your shower pipsqueak?” Caleb hadn’t looked up from his phone yet and you already wanted to roll your eyes at the nickname

Pipsqueak, like you were some little kid, still the little girl he would hide the snacks out of reach for. No, that wasn't you. You weren’t a pipsqueak anymore, you were a woman and maybe, just maybe, you did need this new version of Caleb, even if it wasn’t exactly for the same purposes as the old version. Your lips parted, and you were about to deliver an enlightening rebuttal when Caleb interjected.

“You didn’t dry your hair properly.” His phone was discarded beside him and for a moment your thoughts faltered as you wondered what exactly he had been so engrossed in looking at on there he hadn’t noticed your hair being wet when you sat down. Caleb tutted, like he was scolding a wayward child and you already felt yourself cooling off, the neediness that was between your thighs dulling until it was a low ache that only spiked up when your eyes left Caleb’s for longer than three seconds.

Letting out a soft sigh you gave him an exasperated look. “Gonna dry it for me?” But Caleb already was pulling the towel from around your shoulders where it was protecting your oversized sleep shirt from being stained by falling water droplets.

He leaned forward as he ruffled your hair with Terry cloth, that playful smirk on his lips as he let out a huff of mock offense. “M’ that predictable am I?” You simply rolled your eyes hoping that your silence was punishment enough as he swiped the towel against the back of your neck to dry off the water dripping under your t shirt collar. He was gentle, like always, taking all the time in the world just to do a simple act of service for you. While you feigned annoyance he knew you liked it anyways.

“Do ya’ usually train so hard at the gym?” He asked softly. You hadn’t even noticed how your eyes had fluttered closed under his ministrations but when you opened them you met his gaze.

“Mmm…Usually not quite so hard but Pumpkin Magus has been giving me a run for my money recently.” It was a flimsy excuse, Pumpkin Magus barely lasted a second on the other side of your gun, not like it stopped him from popping back up to wreak havoc. No, you had really been working so hard in the gym to stop you from thinking about what it would feel like to have your child hood best friend wrap those big arms around your waist as he was fucking up into you. Your face flushed and Caleb, who was always observant when it came to you, got that look again in his eye. The one that told you it was time to look up the cost of funeral arrangements. Just incase.

The hand that had been drying your hair with the towel, feathered down your jaw with the faintest ghost of touches. It made your skin prickle with goose bumps and your brows lift questioningly. “Pumpkin Magus huh? Ain’t that kinda small fry for a big bad hunter like you?” His voice was low, hands resuming the task of drying your hair. “Still keep the blow dryer under the sink short stack?’

You nodded, watching as his headed back to the steamy bathroom, bare back filling your gaze as Caleb dug in the the sink cabinet before pulling out a blow dryer you haven’t used since you moved into your own place. You chewed your lip, debating the merits of arguing when the loud sound of the blow dryer running would surely keep Caleb quiet at least. He settled back on the couch, holding open outspread arms, the blow dryer plugged into the wall and resting on the coffee table. You stared at his outstretched arms before reluctantly settling against his chest as loud whirring filled the room.

Caleb was touchy, one hand holding the blow dryer while the other switched between parting your hair to get between the layers and resting on your thigh, massaging muscles you hadn’t even realized were sore. Of course Caleb's hand on your inner thigh and a soft complaint against your ear for you to look down so he could dry the back of your head properly meant the only thing you could really stare at besides yourself was Caleb’s hand.

At least they felt somewhat familiar, calloused from sports teams and weightlifting, big and warm, and…vascular. He had the kind of hands that were catalogued in one of those Reddit fetish pages. Blessedly long fingers with perfectly oblong nails trimmed short and always kept clean. Maybe you should have worn those new pajama pants you ordered online instead of old sleep shorts that barely covered anything when you sat down because your breath audibly hitched when Caleb’s thumb started to stroke lazy circles on the sensitive flesh just before he really hit the danger zone.

Fuck. what was happening?

Caleb is just being touchy, like always.

You repeat it to yourself over and over, like a mantra on loop instead of the sound of him groaning when his arms started to shake during pushups.

You were the one who was being weird.

But this whole situation was absurd wasn't it? Your childhood best friend blew up in front of your eyes, literally, and somehow miraculously survived without telling a single soul who was left to care about him.

Namely you.

Suddenly arousal faded into that bitter hurt that always accompanied anger. You preferred it this way, it made actual sense. It wasn't some fleeting vision of Caleb bending you over the counter, Caleb using his evol to keep you pinned to the bed while he ate you out just cause he liked it.

Fuck would he like it?

Your thoughts were interrupted by the sound of the blow dryer shutting off, a sudden heavy muteness filling into your apartment. You shifted in Caleb’s lap, silently pleading for him to say something…Anything. He stayed uncharacteristically silent, eyes trained on your face. Tilting your head back, you looked up at him.

He was looking at you with pure adoration, like you were something so precious he was grateful you existed at all.

You nervously lifted a hand to your face, cheeks flushing as you realized just how close you were. “Thanks.” You chirped the word out, cheeks puffing out as you debated whether or not he would let you slide out of his lap without a cheeky comment.

Caleb just chuckled softly, hand coming up to ruffle the hair he had just worked so hard to dry off. “Mhmm, Ya’ know I’ll always take care of you pipsqueak.” He sounded like the Caleb you remembered, the Caleb you could depend on, and now you felt like you never really knew him at all. Still, it wasn't something you wanted to bring up, you wanted to enjoy your vacation days for just a little while longer before everything blew up. Caleb would be hurt, you would feel bad for hurting him because somewhere in whoever he is now, he’s still your Caleb. He’s still the little boy who took care of you when you scraped your knee, who always bought two of everything just because of you.

You feigned annoyance, although a fair amount of it was genuine. “Quit calling me pipsqueak, I’m not a little kid anymore.” Caleb’s head tilted to the side, right brow twitching upwards and you knew you were in for it.

His hands slid off where they were resting on the couch cushions, creeping past your lower back before wrapping around your waist to roughly tug you to his chest. His chin rested in between your neck and shoulder and you could already feel your pulse racing. “That’s not true, you’ll always be my baby.” His lips brushed against the sensitive skin of your neck as he spoke, voice a low deep rumble with just enough of a teasing lilt at the end that it didn’t exactly sound flirtatious but made you feel like it was. He buried his nose against your neck, inhaling deeply before speaking again, voice muffled by your skin. “The little baby I always gotta take care of ‘cause you need me.”

Was he…Nuzzling you?

With a flushed face and a quick excuse you were already attempting to escape his grip but he flexed his biceps and you were squeezed in. “Obviously I did fine without you.” You reply with as much snark as you can muster. You’re thankful he can’t see your face right now although with the feeling of weightlessness growing you guessed that was about to change.

He’s using his fucking evol to spin you around so you’re straddling his lap to face him. Your face is lit up red like the apple stickers decorating his water bottle by the couch on the floor. It’s all you can bear to look at when gravity finally returns and you’re plopped right where he wants you.

On his lap, having to look at him.

But you look anything but happy about the new seating arrangement. Lips pulled in a frown you only ever get when he’s the one who riled you up. But Caleb looks like how he always does.

In control.

“What? M’ I not taking good care of my sweet girl?” His lips were already curled into that grin he used when he was trying to butter you up.

His sweet girl? When did he say shit like that? When did he call you anything other than some variation of pipsqueak?

At least he wasn't calling you pipsqueak.

You shifted again in his lap, growing fidgety. This conversation was quickly moving into deeper waters with how hard your heart was pounding and how red your face bloomed.

The problem was Caleb was persistent.

You had to get rid of him to give yourself time to cool off. You made a show of sniffing the air, nostrils flaring as you scrunched up your face in mock revulsion. “Caleb…You smell, and you’re all sweaty from the gym. Go shower.” Caleb didn’t move, he just stared at you, eyes strangely intense in a way that made you feel pinned to the spot.

He wasn't even using his evol.

After a silent moment of the two of you just staring at each other, Caleb acquiesced, sliding you off his lap and back onto the couch with his hands on your thighs even though he could have just used his evol to move you without lifting a finger. “M’kay boss, whatever you say.”

You huffed. That didn’t sound like he was admitting defeat like usual. But still, you watched his back as he retreated to the bathroom and started the shower.

He called you fucking sweet girl and baby all on the day you start really noticing him as something other than your childhood friend Caleb. And it all feels like a trap somehow. Like he’s trying to dangle sweets in front of your face again.

You could be persistent too.

______________________________________________________________

Your apartment was always cozy at night, a far cry from Caleb’s back in Skyhaven. Since Caleb was staying for a whole week the two of you settled into a routine. Caleb cooked dinner in his pjs, you joined him to eat while watching plane disaster videos because one thing you had in common was morbid curiosity. Eventually it would switch into deep dives about streamers with crazy enough allegations to make the both of you side eye each other. And then you would head to your bed in your room and leave Caleb to sleep on the couch.

Although, when you walked out of your bedroom, eager for dinner, slippers scuffing softly against your apartment floors, you paused at the end of the hall looking out on the open concept living room and kitchen. Caleb was cooking in just boxers now.

Your face flushed, just when you had finally decided you could finally be normal around him he has to show off again.

Caleb was such an asshat it was unbelievable.

And now your emotions were warring between the classic ‘LHL What is it?’ Scenario. Love, Hate, or Lust? You couldn’t make sense when it felt like all three. Taking a deep breath until you felt the heat on your cheeks dissipate you waltzed into the kitchen as casually as you could muster. Filling a glass of water up in the sink. “You really made yourself comfortable huh?” It sounded like a gripe, but Caleb’s back was still turned to you and you were appreciatively glancing over at his muscles between large gulps of tap water.

Maybe he’s been feeding you aphrodisiacs?

You mulled the thought over in your head, briefly, before focusing in on Caleb who was certainly speaking to you. “Hey, you listening in or are you gonna keep staring at me like I’m a martian?” His brow twitched up, a smirk tugging his lips into that soft m shaped line you couldn’t tear your eyes away from.

“Start over, I’ve gotten so used to you staying at my place you’re like background noise now.” You tilted your head to the side, fighting to keep your eyes above his collar bones.

Caleb lets out a long sigh, shaking his head like he expected this of you.

His sweet girl.

And suddenly you were blushing again, just at the memory of those words falling from his lips. You felt like a puppy, begging for just a few more words of praise at his feet.

You hated it.

“Well I was saying I really have to do laundry. I didn’t pack much.” You ignore his statement, finding it awfully suspicious why Caleb of all people wouldn’t do laundry before he’s completely run out of clothes. Maybe this new side of him was more forgetful.

You purse your lips. “Feel free to use the machine, I think I have some of your old shirts in the closet.” Caleb nodded, barking out what sounded like an order to watch the stir fry while he looked. You obliged him if only to satiate your growing appetite. You could barely tell if it was for food anymore.

Fuck what was he doing to you?

He came back 10 minutes later, hair rustled, one arm tucked behind his back, and a shirt he used to wear a lot in high school draped over his frame. It had a few stains, mostly from you spilling your morning coffee on the front because you always wore it to bed. For a minute he looked like the old Caleb you knew, but wasnt that just deja vu by now? “Found somethin’ cool in your closet.” His voice a teasing rumble as he broke you out of your nostalgia.

You shrugged thinking it was probably a photo album or maybe a keepsake you kept from the salvage of grandma’s home. But the look on Caleb’s face made you pause as you scooped cooked stir fry onto two ceramic plates. “What?”

He had the kind of shit eating grin that made you start to break into a nervous sweat. While looming over you Caleb pulled out your vibrator from behind his back. The hot pink rabbit toy you kept tucked away in a dust bag in your closet for the nights where your job really did keep you up. “Didn’t think you were such a naughty girl keeping stuff like this around where anybody could find it.” You immediately reached for it, face flushing a deeper shade of red as he held it high above his head.

Why did he have this incessant need to watch you struggle?

You struggled between feeling mortified, flustered, turned on by the fact that he didn’t care that what he was holding had been inside you, that he even wanted to tease you about it in the first place.

“You’re such a bully Caleb!” You reached up again and Caleb finally dropped his hand just enough to let you grab it from him. You cradled the silicone toy, brows knitted together as you shot him an accusing glare. “It wasn't where just anyone could have found it. It was in a dust bag and you snooped just to embarrass me!”

Caleb leaned against the island countertop, head tilting to the side and brow raised. “Thought I told you that you could ask for my help with anythin’.”

You had to grip the counter to stop yourself from going weak in the knees, your voice nearly coming out a hushed squeak before you swallowed down the knot in your throat to finally speak. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

Caleb’s arm flexed when he tightened his knuckles around the edge of the countertop, your eyes instinctively darted down to watch the muscles dance below his skin, tightening up just to relax again. He let out an amused chuckle that sounded filthy to your ears, but you couldn’t tell if it was your mind playing tricks on you. “Could use these hands you seem to like so much. Or is it the arms you’re always starin’ at?”

Your head went blank, eyes wide, darting between his knuckles, white from how hard he was gripping the counter, to his arms where inches upon inches of muscle built up to the stretch of his shoulder, than his face, with his eyes so dark it felt like they were burning into you. Your face was hot, your mind hazy, and your jaw was undoubtedly hanging open.

“You’re gonna catch flies like that baby” He chastised, hand coming up to nudge your jaw closed with the second knuckle of his index finger. You closed it, still staring at him wide eyed. You didn’t know what you were feeling, you just knew it felt warm and tingly and shot right between your thighs. Caleb dragged his hand down your jaw to your throat, stepping closer until he had you shuttered against him in the bend of the countertops. He tilted your face up and stroked at the skin of your cheek, face leaning down until he was inches away from you.

“Caleb.” His name slipped out more like a broken whimper than the warning tone you had tried to exude. His thumb rubbing softly at your face while his fingers cradled the back of your head like you might collapse at any moment.

Your legs did feel like jello.

Caleb hummed, the sound saccharine sweet like he ran it through honey. “What is it sweetheart?” Your hand, still clutching the pink silicone of the vibrator, pressed against the countertop behind you.

You wanted to put your hands on him, you wanted to feel those muscles in his arm shift as he worked you over and over until you were mewling and fucked drunk. “Can I touch you?” The vibrator forgotten about on the countertop as your hands tentatively reached up to his shoulders.

He snorted, a little incredulousness slipping into his tone as he brought his other hand against your hip, squeezing the flesh there playfully. “‘Course you can sweet girl, you never asked before.”

Before was different, before was when he was your childhood best friend, the Caleb that wasn't exactly so bold, the Caleb that was like your brother. You shifted your gaze down to your slippers. “It’s just different now is all.” You breath hitched when he pressed a soft kiss against your jaw, your hands finally definitively resting on his broad shoulders. “You’re calling me stuff other than pipsqueak and trying to get in my pants.”

Caleb let out a dark chuckle, his face resting against your neck as he pressed soft kisses against the skin there that left you breathless and aching. “Is it working?” Another painfully sweet nibble against sensitive flesh that made you squirm. Now that hand that was at your hip was sliding up to squeeze your waist, kneading the tense muscles of your side.

You nodded, it definitely was working.

Caleb hummed, low and satisfied. His eyes were so dark they nearly looked black. “Wonder what would feel better? My hand or that toy of yours.” Another nip against your skin, right above your pulse.

Your breath hitched, his arms had you caged in against the kitchen cabinets and all you could do was pout up at him with a rosy face. “Is this more of your teasing?” You weren’t in the mood for new games, and Caleb loved to play.

He pressed himself forward and you realized at once that Caleb wasn't playing, there hard against your stomach was all the proof you needed. You slid a hand down from his shoulder, nearly in disbelief when it brushed against the front of his boxers. The length of him twitched below your fingers and you moved to withdraw your touch but Caleb’s hand shot out to grip your wrist. “Curious aren’t ya?” His face was colored pink, up to the tips of his ears, eyes heavy lidded in an expression you had never seen before. “Ya don’t have to be curious about everything.”

Caleb released your wrist, stepping back to run a hand through his hair. He glanced away, seemingly thinking for a moment before turning back to you. “Think I’m done playing games now.” And suddenly he was using his evol to pull you forward into his arms, strong and securely wrapped around your waist to lift you up.

“Caleb!” You squirmed in his hold but he just squeezed tighter, hands warm against the back of your bare thighs. You couldn’t deny the way he always made you feel helpless, it didn’t matter how many wanderers you took down all own your own, in Caleb’s arms it was pointless to struggle.

If you didn’t love him so much you might have had the sense to be afraid.

He carried you to your bedroom, lips pulled into a signature smirk. “Don’t tell me you aren’t going to accept responsibility for your actions now that things are getting serious.” Your back fell against the mattress, Caleb’s hands were already sliding down your thighs tugging the waistband of your shorts. You reached out to stop him, trying to make sense of everything when your mind was so hazy.

Were you embarrassed or aroused?

It was all mixing together, making your heart pound against your rib cage until it felt like the beat of the drum. Caleb tilted his head curiously, breath warm against your neck as your hand closed around his wrist. “Aren’t there lines you don’t cross?” You asked breathlessly, eyes wide.

Caleb chuckled, the sound made your swimming mind suddenly hyper focused on him propped up with a strong arm above you. “Aren’t lines meant to be crossed and rules made to be broken?” He pressed a kiss against the exposed skin of your collar and you nearly shivered.

Why did everything only ever feel right when he was touching you?

You released your grip on his wrist, relaxing into the mattress. Caleb made sense, him touching you made sense. Even as he dragged your shorts down over your hips, until all you had left were the flimsy damp cotton of your panties and the rumpled oversized fabric of your sleep shirt.

Caleb leaned back with a dark grin, canines sparkling in dim warm light made his smile seem more like the toothy maw of a wolf than the face of your best friend.

He wanted to eat you alive.

Lips on yours, harsh and aggressive. Teeth sinking into the soft delicate skin of your lower lip until you were moaning against him. Your hands came up to tug on his hair but he just used his evol to pin them back on the bed on either side of your head. “C’mon sweet girl, only I get to touch.”

You couldn’t help the whiny noise that slipped past kiss swollen lips. He wasn't being fair and he loved to use his evol against you. “I thought rules were meant to be broken?” You taunted back, not missing the way Caleb’s eyes crinkled in the corners.

He pressed another kiss against your lips, this one softer, the kind that made you so weak in the knees that if you hadn’t been laying down you might have collapsed. “Mhmm…I think rules are fine if I’m the one makin’ them, haven’t you learned that by now?” Caleb’s fingers teased the edge of your underwear waistband, slipping past the elastic to press a teasing caress against the heated flesh of your sensitive clit.

You sucked in a sharp inhale of air. His calloused finger pad rolling tight circles until you felt the warm drip of your drooling cunt against the bottom of your ass. You were fucking leaking in your panties like you were in heat. Begging for more than just the little touches Caleb was giving you.

You met his gaze, trained on you like it always was, ears pink and lips parted to let the soft breaths of air, he was huffing out, brush against your cheek. “Caleb please…more.”

Caleb hummed, tilting his head like he didn’t know what you possibly meant. “More? More what baby?” He knew exactly what you wanted more of but he loved seeing you admit the one thing he craved more than anything.

That you needed him.

And Caleb was always willing to let you struggle for it, maybe that was half the enjoyment for him aside from seeing your cute face scrunch up the way it was now.

You moaned again when the calloused pad of his finger brushed up your hood in a way that made your thighs clench together. Caleb pushed your thighs apart, one hand on your left knee and the other still barely touching you under your panties. “Please…Touch me more.” You whined out, back arching up.

Caleb withdrew his touch, but his evol kept you pinned down to the bed. “I dunno…You gonna admit that you still need me?” Your brows furrowed, a flush creeping up your cheeks as you met his self satisfied expression with a needy glare.

You huffed, eager to knock him down a peg. “You’re such a dummy Caleb.” Still, you felt desperate for more. With your lips pressed into a pout you reluctantly gave him what he wanted. “I…I need you Caleb. Please will you really touch me now?”

That smirk he had faded into something more akin to affection and then your panties were being dragged off. “Yeah? You need me that badly huh?” Caleb was tugging off his shirt, thick arms suddenly free for you to ogle and washboard abs catching the light just right enough to make your breath hitch despite having seen him shirtless countless times.

Caleb released his evol from your wrists if only to drag you back against his chest after he sat and leaned against the headboard. You didn’t mind the change in position, your back pressed snuggly against his warm pecs. His fingers crept up your shirt to play with your breasts his voice a low rumble against your ear. “Okay pretty girl, okay. I’ll take care of you just like how I always do.”

One hand kneading your chest, the other between your folds toying at your entrance while his thumb rubbed lazily against your clit. You rolled your hips against his touch, nails digging into the muscled flesh of his strong thighs. A cacophony of pleasured mewls spilling from your lips while Caleb licked and sucked bruises against your neck. He hummed, deep and low, when his mouth unlatched from the hickey on your pulse.

They were going to be hard to explain at work when your vacation finally ended.

“Look at you pretty baby, all needy for me. Makes it feel like we’re the only people in the world.” He sighed against your bruised flesh, fingers hooking up to finally push into your sopping cunt. Your head fell back against his shoulder at the sensation of him pushing two thick knuckles inside you, eyes barely staying open just to watch the muscles flex in his arms as he curled his fingers against that spongy part of your pussy that made you see stars.

“Don’t tease Caleb.” You mumbled out in-between breathy moans. He just pressed a kiss against your shoulder and curled his fingers deeper.

Caleb scissored his fingers, stretching your pussy before curling back upwards to hit your sweet spot, thumb still rubbing on your clit without ever breaking pace.

Fuck…he must have done this before if he was so damn good at it.

You were already so close, barely fifteen minutes in and your thighs were trembling, slick soaking the bed sheets beneath the two of you. He kept you caged against him, teeth nipping at the lobe of your ear as he whispered filthy praise just for you. “That’s it pretty girl.” His cock throbbed against your back and you could feel the wet spot growing on his boxers. “Fuck your pussy keeps sucking my fingers in…Don’t tell me you get this way for that toy of yours?” You shook your head and Caleb laughed, his other hand pinching a nipple between his index finger and thumb. “C’mon baby, can’t you say it?” He was teasing you again, but it all felt so much worse when his fingers were buried inside you and you were wet enough to fill an aquarium. “Tell me how much better I am than that pink rabbit otherwise I’m not gonna let you cum princess. And wouldn’t that be a real shame?”

You thought you might cry at the thought, but Caleb seemed all too eager to punish as he was to reward and you knew better than to test his patience when you were just so close to the release you needed. Your hips rolled in short needy bursts, lips parting open to let out that soft sweet sound Caleb loved so much, you were going to set aside your pride for once if only for a moment of utter bliss you were sure Caleb would bring you to. “It’s better! Ah…hng! Fuck you’re so much better.”

Caleb seemed satisfied at that, his touch on your clit speeding until that knot low in your gut was about to unravel. “You oughta throw the thing away, I want to be the only one who sees you like this, the only one who makes you cum.” You moaned out an unintelligible word but it just turned into Caleb’s name, over and over, just like the way he kept bullying your over sensitive cunt. “You wanna cum pretty girl?” Your nails were biting into the skin of his arm where you gripped the flexing muscles as his fingers worked you over.

“Please, please Caleb!” You could feel him smiling against your neck, fingers prodding over and over at your sweet spot until you couldn’t take it anymore.

“Good girl, go ahead and soak my fingers. Cum for me baby.” He sounded breathless, eyes glazed and trained on your fluttering cunt, watching the way your folds parted lewdly just for his fingers. The way your unabashed need made them glisten in the low light.

Eyes rolled back and mouth parted open in a cry that certainly disturbed your neighbors, your orgasm had your thighs clenching together until Caleb used his evol to pin your legs down. His fingers still working you through it with squelches that were loud enough to contest the sound of your fucked out moans.

You were trembling against him, chest heaving as you finally came down from your high. Blinking up to see him already looking down at you, eyes soft violet even under the warm lamplight. “Wasn't that just the prettiest sight.” He mumbled out, lips curled in that satisfied grin he had when he offered sour candy he knew you would deny so he could hog the whole bag to himself. You were still panting, eyes bleary as you looked up at him while he withdrew his fingers from your clutching cunt.

He peppered kisses against your cheek before bringing a finger to his lips to suck the slick clean, his eyes fluttering shut as he let out a soft moan. “Geez you’re sweet as hell even down there aren’t ya?” Another kiss against your flushing neck and then his other finger still slick with you was being pressed against your lips. “C’mon sweet tooth, try it.” His tone didn’t have much room for argument so you parted your lips obediently to suck his fingers clean. You didn’t mind it, it’s not like you haven’t had dirty thoughts of him making you gag around his knuckles before. But still, the taste of yourself on his digits was new.

His cock twitched insistently against your lower back and you realized he still hasn't let you touch him. You wanted to make him feel as good as you did.

He pulled his fingers out of your mouth and you took the opportunity to turn in the bed to face him, bringing your hands up to his flushed cheeks to press eager kisses against his mouth. "I wanna touch you Caleb...Please."

He stared at you for a moment, his pupils blown to near black, before ruffling your hair playfully. "Nah not yet baby, M'not done with you." You were baffled, what did he mean by not done with you?

Your thoughts were quickly interrupted by sudden weightlessness, the bed pressing against your back and Caleb above you. "Caleb! Quit using your evol to toss me around!"

He chuckled, kissing your neck, stopping at the collar of your rumpled sleep shirt and yanked it off using his gravity manipulation. Suddenly you felt bare, nipples pebbling in the cool air as Caleb kissed across the skin of your breasts. "Thats funny, when you were a kid you loved when I picked you up like that." A nip at your nipple made your breath hitch. "Wanted me to keep taking you higher." He pressed a kiss at your sternum. "And higher." Another kiss but lower, against the warm pulse on your stomach. "And higher." He nipped at the pudge below your navel. You whined but he shushed you and propped your thighs over his broad muscular shoulders. "Until you went to outer space."

He was kissing a new place entirely, one that was leaving you breathless. "C-Caleb!"

He hummed but the sound reverberated against your mound, making you forget why you were protesting in the first place. He sucked your clit into his mouth, tongue swirling around the sensitive plump bud. Your folds were swollen, still soaked with slick from your first orgasm, and you could already feel another one creeping up.

Your hands reached to dig into Caleb's hair but he used his evol to pin your wrists to the bed without even looking up. Strong arms flexed as his hands kept your thighs pried apart.

At least he was playing into your fantasies.

He pulled away from your clit to lap between puffy folds, moaning at the taste. You were already putty in his hands, thighs trembling, eyes so glazed, and lips parted to let out breathy moans.

Caleb was as talented in life as he was in dreams. You should have suspected as such, he was good at everything he did.

His mouth latched onto your clit again, tongue lashing against the bud until that knot tightened. He pushed two fingers in, curving them up as his mouth worked you over the final push.

You couldn't take it anymore.

Back arching as you came undone against his face, his fingers pumping in a steady rhythm as he lapped at your clit with the broad flat of his tongue.

It was all too much.

Your vision came back slowly, white fading back into color as Caleb pushed himself up, chin glistening with the juices from your release.

He looked debauched, like a stranger, and then he gave you that reassuring smile that made your pounding heart stop for a moment.

He was still your Caleb even after all of this.

He pressed a kiss against your stomach, glancing up at your face before releasing his evol. "You okay? Ya look a little...breathless up there." He was teasing you after giving you the best orgasm of your life.

Classic Caleb.

You rolled your eyes at his antics but nodded, stretching slowly as you regained sensation in your buzzing limbs. "Mhmm...What about you?"

You still haven't touched him yet much to your dismay.

He tilted his head curiously, eyes dark in the dim lighting. "Don't worry about me baby, there's time for all that later." He kissed your forehead, pressing another just above your brow. "Gotta make sure you have another reason to come visit me in Skyhaven next time."

He rolled onto his side, pulling you against his chest so that he was spooning you. You could feel the press of his tented boxers against your ass but you didn't comment on it.

He could torture himself all he wanted, he was your pink rabbit for the night after all.

────── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──────

#lnds smut #love and deepspace caleb #this fic is 7689 words long because I am a glutton #This is my first smut im sorry its so bad I just never get that far before giving up on a fic #I need him so bad even though I'm married to Zayne #love and deepspace #caleb x reader #lads caleb #caleb love and deepspace #lnds caleb #caleb x mc #caleb lads #lads fanfic #Spotify

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frequentlybald · 1 day ago

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We’re all on the capitalism train trying to make us fork up cash for less goon material

Apparently Lads players in CN are organizing to not spend the first 3 days of the banner. Not only for Sylus and Caleb, but also because Infold is separating the pulls rewards and being greedy, if player let this pass they will accept this as the fandom not caring about them separating cosmetics from outfits and making rewards more difficult to obtain in future banners.

For the upcoming banner (Tomorrow's catch-22), Infold separated the hair from the outfit so people need to pull more (85 for the first) for a cosmetic that should be included in the crate, like Caretaker banner with the butler outfit, ears and tail.

Pls reblog to share the info. Likes don’t work in tumblr like in other apps.

#love and deepspace #lads #lads caleb #lads xavier #lads mc #lads sylus #love and deepspace sylus #love and deepspace caleb #lads zayne #lads rafayel

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frequentlybald · 2 days ago

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Loyal Megooner

You're doing GODS work here we're being fed so good,, the way you write him just feels so natural like the way you captures his shyness but he gets more confident and comfortable as he learns UGH it's just so good I can't put it into words every time I read your writing I shed a tear and its not from my eyes

you WHAT

#megumi fushiguro #jujutsu kaisen

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frequentlybald · 2 days ago

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Expect a nasty ass Caleb fanfic tonight yall, struck with divine inspiration to write a long ass nsfw oneshot

#love and deepspace #lads caleb #love and deepspace caleb #caleb #caleb x mc #lnds caleb #caleb x reader

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frequentlybald · 2 days ago

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The mullets and wolf cuts are fucking eating. Chaining all of them to my bed

tomorrow’s catch-22

don’t say it, don’t say it—

this is so cxnty, the babies are absolutely WILDING out here. （⊙ｏ⊙）

happy valentine’s day to us indeed.

#love and deepspace #love and deepspace quintet #xavier #love and deepspace xavier #love and deepspace zayne #love and deepspace rafayel #love and deepspace sylus #rafayel #zayne #sylus

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frequentlybald · 3 days ago

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Not even a sukuna fan but this was like…crazy well done

𝐕𝐄𝐍𝐈, 𝐕𝐈𝐃𝐈, 𝐕𝐈𝐂𝐈 ♛

𝐂𝐎𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐒. gladiator!Sukuna x princess!Reader, historical AU – ancient rome, misogyny, enemies to lovers, arranged marriage, eventual smut [MDNI], degrádation, power play (?), bondáge, chöking, hair-pulling, overstimulátion, dácryphilia, fíngering, cünnilingus, tït súcking, knîfe play, cūm eating, full nelson, outdoor sêx, table sêx, balcony sêx, pool sêx, angry sêx, size difference, breêding, unprotected sêx, multiple örgasms, gröping, pet names, TL;DR: Sukuna can't keep it in his freaking pants

𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐃 𝐂𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐓. 18.9k 💀

𝐀𝐔𝐓𝐇𝐎𝐑'𝐒 𝐍𝐎𝐓𝐄. i <3 a good ancient rome fic, but please don’t be alarmed by the wc—the first two acts are boring (but necessary) world-building + plot and whatnot, but the third act’s where things get GOOD, iykwim // available on ao3 // dividers by @uzmacchiato

𝐀𝐂𝐓 𝐈.

This was bound to happen sooner or later.

Well, with being raised so near the emperor’s circle of friends and family, you had never been exactly shielded from death and despair, per se; and, let’s be honest, attending a gladiators’ game in the Colosseum was practically fate.

During the times of Ancient Rome, you had an . . . uncommon upbringing, to say the least. Abandoned as a mere newborn, you were taken in by none other than the emperor and his wife, who failed to have any real children of their own. Growing up, they treated you like a daughter they never had, and gave you a life of endless prosperity and luxuries. Your bedroom—decorated and gilded in gold; your closet—always stocked and more ornate than even the average noblewoman’s; and your life—full of only the highest expectations.

Despite coming from a pitifully low background and rising to such a rank that made your peers during schooling envious, you learned some much needed qualities such humility and humbleness. Well, you were practically everything but a princess, after all. You lived in the palace with the emperor and empress, but you weren’t royal by blood. Sure, you were noble; and your time was mostly taken up by serving the empress as her lady-in-waiting, but you wouldn’t have it any other way.

Life was pleasant like this.

You enjoyed serving the empress who took you under her wing, and found no difficulty in assisting with her day-to-day tasks. Dressing, accompanying, running errands. It was simple; there was never a rush for you.

Today was no different.

With the radiating, beaming sun blinding civilians with no mercy—from merchants, to nobles, to plebeians—the star did not leave a single mortal untouched or unaffected.The cruel rays shining upon skin glistening with sweat and hair tousled and unruly only displayed each spectator’s discomfort as the minutes rolled past and the gladiators had still yet to enter the amphitheater.

Fanning yourself, as you sat high above the stands beside the empress, you couldn’t help but express your wonder, turning your head ever so slightly to meet her eyes. “How long does Your Imperial Majesty think we will have to wait?”

“Child, how many times will I have to make myself clear? Such formalities between us are hardly ever necessary,” the woman—clothed in a purple stola—scolded, replying with a maternal smile. “But, to answer your question,” she began, clearing her throat, “I figure . . . not so long. You know how men can be: adjusting their armor, fixing their hair, getting stage-fright. It’s all the same to me. How can one worry about their appearance when it’s plausible their blood will just be splattered along the arena in the end?”

You pretended to laugh at her disposition.

Contrary to popular belief, the empress was a nice woman; an understanding woman; someone who ruled alongside her husband with equal—if not rivaling—authority and a scholar’s intellect. You occasionally thought of her as someone practically born to lead, and after spending your whole life in the palace, you’ve grown accustomed to the fact that, while the face of the empire was usually imagined to be the emperor’s, it was not seldom that the empress was the one pulling additional strings behind the stage.

Misogyny is a nasty prejudice, and if it weren’t for the way things were, you had no doubt in standing behind the idea that the empress would be just as great of a prominent ruler as those who had come before her husband.

Of course, even with being such a morally virtuous person, the empress was born into royalty, and had never served someone a day of her life; and alongside being surrounded in endless luxury, comes the inevitable quality of aporophobia. The woman wasn’t as cruel as most, however; yes, she looked with disdain at poverty and unfortunate souls, but didn’t turn a blind eye, no.

She cracked jokes at, made fun of, and used people of lower rank for her own amusement, but it was all “harmless,” as she called it, similar to having a jester in one’s court. Even while mocking those she deemed helpless and lowly, she never failed to grant them whatever resources they requested when visiting her throne. You may have heard of kindness without honesty and honesty without kindness, but kindness with neither honesty nor humility? Strange.

Well, don’t start getting the wrong idea now. The empress could be with preconceptions, but she was a charming woman within retrospect.

Before the empress could poke fun at any more people, the Colesseum’s spectators suddenly burst into roars and bellows and yells as the appointed gladiators of the first match entered the arena.

Two men. Both of adequate height—no less than six feet, you assumed. But, were they slaves? you wondered. No. No, they were too muscular for that. Oh, well, then again, that quality may have been from manual labour and other work of the like. Although the naked eye failed—from how high up your seats were—to see a real difference, you could still tell one of the fighters was shorter than the other, from the length and distribution of their shadows.

The taller competitor, with a reddish-brown beard and deformed knees, caught the interest of the woman beside you, and she turned to whisper (albeit poorly) in your ear and laugh about his disagreeable features.

“I heard his name was . . . Remus, or something. But, if you asked me,” the empress laughed, “I would say he was nothing but a damn fool—a fool disgracing the name of the God of War’s son.”

You met her eyes, which seemed to almost glow beneath the sun. “You suppose he will lose?”

“Suppose?” she repeated, tossing coins into a betting pool as if it were impossible for her to be wrong. “Don’t make me laugh.”

The other fighter—the shorter one—held a gloomy expression on his face, and didn’t look a day over twenty. A slave; competing for a chance at freedom? It wasn’t so far-fetched.

The referees were soon called to their positions, the armed combatants took their stances, and the munera commenced.

Swords met, shields resisted attacks, and little to no blood was drawn. Again, and again, and again. The crowds booed, raised their voices, and expressed their boredom and utter disappointment like spoiled children; it made your ears hurt, and you chewed at your bottom lip in agonizing anticipation of what was to come of these poor men. But, nevertheless, the show had to go on.

Even with the fierce sun, and beads of sweat accumulating on just about everyone’s foreheads, the fighters regained their positions and began anew—this time, with more violence.

The shorter man looked as if he finally realized he could turn his life around if victory was his and started to hold the hilt of his sword with gathering excitement rather than fear. Stabs cut through the air, piercing absolutely nobody, and consecutive gasps erupted within the stands as suspense arose alongside the growing lust for blood.

Both men lunged forward consecutively, throwing jabs at the other, just to fail and jump back, before trying again.

With the heavy toll of labour dealing on each competitor’s body and soul, they both looked equally older compared to how they actually were on the records. The fight was nothing if not unpleasant. More often than not, according to the empress, gladiatorial games were always more entertaining when the combatants were more . . . manly. Or, masculine? Attractive? All the same.

And, anyway, you couldn’t exactly deny Her Imperial Majesty’s claims. For, even as you remained with a neutral expression on your face, you couldn’t help but cast side-glances at the figures of the gladiators. Muscular, but . . . not muscular in a lovely way. Their faces were dirty, cheeks hollow, and hands grimy. It seemed like the exertion on their bodies would be more of a morality cause than how hopeless their fight was continuing to be.

Even with the increase of energy and work being infused into the swords’ clashing and shields’ refuting, only a few minutes had passed and you already began to grow bored, waiting for the moment the fight would be either called off or a more formidable opponent would be brought into the arena. A bull, for instance.

It wasn’t until a rock—thrown by a spectator in the stands—landed just beside the left foot of the taller fighter with a thudding sound that, for a second, the man froze, either confused or unable to decide on what to do, and his opponent wasted not a second more before moving in for an attack.

The blade of a gladius pierced the taller competitor on the side of his abdomen, and his sword dropped onto the floor with a dull sound, seemingly filled with a sense of inevitable defeat, as the man himself fell soon after, his body landing prone beside his weapon. The sight was almost poetic, and even the empress found it in herself to let out a little gasp (despite her early confidence in the outcome).

The arena went silent. Utterly silent.

Would the referees consider foul play? Spectator interference? Everyone wondered, and eyes moved from one man to another to try and figure out the decided outcome of the match.

You only noticed how clammy your hands had gotten throughout the climax of the match when you followed the example of other spectators to rise in ovation and break out into plaudits and hollers after the shorter fighter was finally announced victorious. Letting out a breath you did not know you were holding, you wiped the sweat off your palms at the fabric of your palla.

The gods were not on the taller man’s side this day, for, the fate of the match was due to two factors. A) the rock was interference, yes, but it was neither an advantage nor a disadvantage for either of the competitors. Since, according to the spectators, both of them could’ve been affected by it; the taller man just happened to be frozen while the other gained consciousness. And, B) any one of them could’ve stood still, but, perhaps, the taller one really was as stupid as he looked.

The empress told you both men were, in fact, slaves, and that you had been correct in your assumption. But, you had no reason to celebrate, for you felt pity for the fallen; but, anyhow, death would’ve come sooner or later to him. The rest of his life would’ve been spent bending over machines and gathering hay and tending to cattle.

On the other hand, fortunately for those hard of hearing, the applause died down more swiftly than the end of the fight came, and most spectators had already begun to seat themselves back down when the victorious competitor exited with his treasures, and two new combatants entered, instantly silencing any other leftover noise.

Their names were announced, but you could not pick up a single syllable, for, only a millisecond after, the crowds had once again broken into loud cheers and yells; these competitors were apparently not ordinary gladiators. Probably well-known, or excellent fighters, is what you assumed.

Although their match had yet to begin, the second pair of fighters were already visibly sweating beneath their heavy armor and shields.

Now, from the height of your seat, you could not distinguish which of the men were taller, but you could easily set their countenances apart.

The silver-haired one carried himself with an elegant, almost prince-like gait, and his eyes shone like the beautiful waters of the Mediterranean Sea under the rays of the glaring sun. His lips—thin and pink—occasionally formed into a taunting smile or flashed his pearly whites at swooning women in the stands. He was particularly attractive, and despite yourself, you found the act of looking at him rather enjoyable.

His eyes raised above the crowd of spectators for a moment, before meeting the emperor’s in a friendly fashion. Then, flitting to the side, he gave a small acknowledgement to the empress. And then, finally, to you. His eyes met yours with a flirty ulterior motive and he smiled an almost boyish smile, but you couldn’t deny the fact your cheeks seemed to warm at the sight of his brief greeting and acknowledgement before he turned back to evaluate the crowd with squinted eyes (courtesy of the overly sunny weather).

Clearing your throat and settling the ridiculous thumping of your heart, you sat up in your seat and, ignoring the teasing remarks of the empress, your eyes moved over to take a look at the other gladiator.

He was . . . perhaps, the complete opposite of the silver-haired one.

A total brute, if you did say so yourself. Pink, rosy hair. Defined muscles. A sharp nose and pierced ears. He had the arms and legs of a high-ranking Roman soldier, and, even from how high up you were, or how blinding the sun was, you could still clearly tell his chest would be just as chiseled as the rest of him. He was, without a doubt, a piece of eye-candy if you had ever seen one. But, what intrigued you most about him, were his tattoos. Inky, black markings that circled around his wrists, thighs, and decorated his already daunting face.

You had been staring at him for a while when you felt the intimidation of his piercing gaze meeting your figure up in the stands, seemingly having taken notice of your ogling. Sinking back down in your seat, your body squirmed nervously and awkwardly under his unforgiving stare, as if you were trying to escape his sights.

You couldn’t understand the meaning for your very sudden and growing embarrassment for having been caught, and you pretended to avert your focus elsewhere. But minute after minute continued to pass by, and you could still feel the pair of crimson eyes burning holes at the side of your head.

Like a child finally succumbing to the scolding of their parents, you turned back to face the gladiator, and, like you imagined, he had not moved his eyes off of you for even a second. His lips were sealed in a thin line, and the expression on his face, emphasized by his seemingly bored eyes, displayed nothing but want and desire. Was it want and desire to exit the arena? Or, want and desire to avoid throwing his life away in a gladiatorial game? You could not decide on an answer.

Your eyes wandered downwards, and landed upon the pink-haired brute’s weapon of choice. He had a gladius, like most fighters of munera, but it was . . . different, in possibly the most subtle way.

A ruby lay clear as day in the dead center of his capulus—the hilt of his sword. The color unmistakably matched up with the shade of the sword’s master’s eyes, and you couldn’t help but flicker your gaze from one to the other.

The only event that managed to take your attention off of the man and his blade, was the empress, who interrupted your focus and leaned in to whisper in your ear. “What do you look at so intently, my dear?” she questioned, before waving her hand in dismissal. “Never mind; look over there. Yes, right there. Do you see that man? The pink-haired fighter?”

You nodded.

“His name is Ryoumen Sukuna, but you must know, most people have started calling him King of the Colosseum.”

“Sukuna? King of the Colosseum?”

The woman ignored your growing curiosity, and moved on to other subjects. “He’s a fine one—personal favorite of the emperor, you know. Lovely physique, an agreeable countenance, and boundless skill in a match to the death. I hear his streak of victories has not ended since he began gladiating all the way back since he was twenty.”

“How old is he now?” you asked, your desperation for information on the man growing second by second.

“Six-and-twenty? I could not tell you, darling.”

While you and the empress conversed, whispering about the combatants behind ring-adorned hands which covered your mouths (to avoid any scandal which could arouse from lip-reading), the match began and the gladiators took their designated positions before plunging head-first into battle.

Sukuna swung his blade up in the air with one quick movement before bringing it back down to strike the silver-haired gladiator in either the neck or the back of his head. But the man seemed to have guess the intention for that attack, and side-stepped away. Which, for the most part, probably would have left Sukuna to deliver a useless blow to the sands and allow his opponent an open opportunity, but it was clear to even the lowest of the lows that he was far from inexperienced with the blade.

He neither tarried nor let his mistake take the best of him, and moved to retract his weapon quicker than how the other fighter escaped it.

Blow after blow was delivered by both men, and no visible cuts or injuries were inflicted on either of the two.

Despite none of the fighters being able to land a successful hit on the other, their fails were only due to the fact that their skill was matched, and that no matter how many party tricks or ploys or schemes they had up their sleeves (or, in this case, manicas), neither one of them could fool the other. Well, at least, not for too long.

Even with the lack of blood, the spectators were still kept entertained and satisfied from the number of impressive and, to the naked eye, seemingly humanly impossible dangerous attacks.

You had noticed, after a few attempted blows—all resisted from the usage of shields, that, what looked like to be mere strategy, was probably something more on the lines of technique. Sukuna’s technique, to be clear.

With the advantage of his height nearly always towering over his opponents, Sukuna subconsciously developed, over time, a habit of striking over-head. And, with arms like his, it was no trouble for him, at all, to lift up an iron blade and do such a thing. Sukuna frequently swung his gladius and struck at the side of the silver-haired fighter’s head, which was usually blocked by the opponent’s shield, or avoided by the said opponent ducking and subsequently swiping at Ryoumen’s legs.

It was overly facetious. Too facetious, actually—for a duel that would only result in death and horror.

If it wasn’t obvious before, you were not at all a fan of gladiatorial games. No, not even in the slightest. You looked upon the thought of unnecessary murder serving the sole purpose of entertainment for all civilians ranging from plebeians to nobility to royalty with disgust and disdain. Watching two men fighting in a ring—sometimes blindfolded, sometimes with no weapons save for their hands (which are dangerous enough)—was ridiculous. Or, that’s what you thought.

See, you wouldn’t have even been present at the current gladiator fight had it not been for the coercing of the empress, who, according to her, needed you by her side, since her husband would be seated at a separate stand (for reasons you did not know). But honestly, now that you were both watching two men stab and jab at each other, it seemed to be the other way around.

The empress was enjoying herself to the fullest, while you, on the other hand, were horrified; and that was saying a lot, considering you had seen warfare since your adolescence.

“Getting bored?” the empress asked, getting your attention amidst the cheering of the crowds.

You shook your head, exiting your train of thought. “Not at all.”

The woman looked at you tenderly, and touched your cheek with her cold fingers. “Cannot say I’m surprised. Ryoumen certainly knows how to put on a show for a woman he deems rather oculorum captans.¹”

¹ Eye-catching.

You pretended not to understand whom that was directed to. “Is that . . . why he has yet to deliver an ending blow?”

“Oh, nonsense. The man’s a flirt, yes, but he would never let fraternizing stand in the way of a victory. It’s impossible. Gojo is just, perhaps, the only gladiator who could ever rival him.”

At learning of the silver-haired fighter’s name, you let your eyes briefly return to the match. Blood had now managed to have been drawn, and both of the blade-wielding beasts had now sustained injuries on their triceps. You thought yourself a lucky one to have missed witnessing how that came about, and turned back to meet the empress’s eyes while yells continued to erupt within several sections of the arena.

“Will it continue going on like this?” you asked, gesturing to the missed blows and endless clanks of shields. “It seems the men could only die from exhaustion now.”

The empress offered you a strange smile. “That won’t be necessary.”

“How do you mean?”

“This won’t be their last match. They’ll have a draw, and the editor will enable the defeated to live another day. But only for the sake of another match to take place soon after.” The woman said everything like it was a declaration, and not an assumption or probability. It made you uneasy, in a way.

“. . .Another match?” you repeated. “What ever for?”

“A gladiator match is a spectacle—it’s a source of entertainment. How will the crowds be entertained when their favorite gladiator is killed in a common, ordinary game? A game succeeding two slaves, more or less,” she added, snorting.

“So, they’ll be kept alive?”

“For another match, id est verum;² it will take place before the festival of Vulcan. It will be, by far, the greatest gladiator match ever seen by the people of Rome. Now, I cannot spoil too many details, but, all I can reveal is, expect the unexpected.”

² That is correct.

And, just as the empress had said, the match between the silver-haired gladiator and Ryoumen Sukuna was declared a draw soon after your conversation with the woman, as decided by the editor. This decision not only satisfied spectators on both rooting sides and caused an uproar of hollers, but also guaranteed an adequately sized and enthusiastic audience for the final and tie-breaking match of the year, which was, clearly, going to be the event looked forward to for the rest of the month.

𝐀𝐂𝐓 𝐈𝐈.

You were beginning to think the most crucial detail someone has ever failed to tell you was how the last man you wanted to see right now was good friends with the emperor—pals, even! Which was great, just great.

“I know you would rather die from scaphism,” said the man, as he plucked a grape from a bowl, “but you can at least try and act like you’re enjoying this instead of standing there like a sulky child.”

Ryoumen Sukuna, a proud, formidable opponent in the arena—widely known as the King of the Colosseum, continued to be a haunting presence in your life even after his match ended with a draw two weeks ago. It was embarrassing enough that you could break so easily under his stare, and that, in addition, he knew that—just as well as you did (if not better). But to have him roam around the palace? While you were living there? Mallem mori.³

³ You would rather die.

The pink-haired man held favor from the emperor, since it seemed they knew each other even before the younger began a career in dueling, and alongside their acquaintance, came the event of Sukuna’s frequent visits to the palace. It had been a fortnight since the last munera, and you had already seen the beast of a man a total of fourteen times. It was like he knew he was tormenting you.

And, gods, it was absolutely childish how much you began to loathe the color red ever since. Time and time again, the appearance of Ryoumen Sukuna was continuously marked by either a ruby-adorned weapon lazily left around the premises, or a red cloak whipping through the air as you (in that scenario) would be staring at his broad back with a bitter taste in your mouth, while deciding whether to walk away or to dig a hole in the ground and die away like a hobbit.

Red was like a bad omen for you.

Wherever it was, you could bet a hundred horses that Sukuna would turn up sooner or later.

Now, normally, if the emperor invited friends over, you would not mind—no, not even in the slightest; for, from all the years you spent kissing the asses of royals who you came across, you had learned to blend in with high society. But, with Sukuna, it was different. You couldn’t keep your cool around him; seeing him always left you heavily bothered.

Even when you first met him (or, saw him, actually; because you two never formally introduced yourselves)—even then, you failed to stay calm and composed. Was it his eyes? Or his looks, in general? He was attractive—very attractive, tu non mentior,⁴ but, was that really all there was to it? You refused to face a man solely because you deemed him unbelievably good-looking?

⁴ You could not lie.

No, that wasn’t it. Well, that was part of it, but it wasn’t all. You couldn’t stand being in the same room as Ryoumen Sukuna because—because you were afraid of him. I mean, c’mon, you’re dragged along to watch a gladiator match (and, mind you, you despise unnecessary murder), and then you lock eyes with a man who looks like he could tear the entire empire apart with his bare hands, and now you have to act friendly with him? At least, in front of the emperor and empress? You had every right to avoid him at any chance you got.

And, not only that, but, aside from his frequent—almost annoyingly frequent—visits, he always held the same damn look on his face. Red, crimson eyes that looked at you like an animal would its prey; it was like, every opportunity received, Sukuna would size you up, as if envisioning as many ways possible he could kill you just like he does his opponents. But, fuck, his eyes were your weakness.

Staring through your soul like he wanted something, and in a way that made it seem as if he knew every thought that went through your head, including your fear of him—and imagining how he could exploit said fear like the cruel brute he was.

The empress and her husband wanted you two to get along, but you just couldn’t do it. No matter how hard you tried, you could never meet those bewitchingly crimson eyes with an emotion lacking hostility.

“I am not sulking,” came your reply, moments later.

“Yeah? Then, why are you just standing in the corner of the court like someone in time-out?”

His laugh made your blood boil, and you couldn’t help but cross your arms over your chest, scowling with your eyes facing away like a scolded child. How could he stand there, looking at you with those same red eyes, and act like nothing was the matter? Of course, something was the matter! Otherwise, you wouldn’t be on the verge of throwing yourself into a bush of thorny roses.

The emperor and the missus had left the two of you in the gardens, because, according to them, they had some “business” to attend to, and thought you would be eligible enough to be able to give the guest a tour of the terrace and the courtyard which stretched beyond it. That was a grave mistake on their part, for Sukuna was right, you really would rather die than speak with the man for more than a few minutes.

“Has it ever occured to you that not everyone enjoys your presence?” you spat out, finally having mustered up the courage to approach Sukuna from your little hiding spot.

Your steps were slow, languid, but the pink-haired brute saw them as nothing short of flirtatious. In fact, when you were just a foot away, he took it upon himself to close the distance between you two, staring down at your figure with that same enigmatic look in his eyes.

“You’ve got quite the mouth on you.”

“And you’ve got quite the nerve showing up here as often as you do.” You narrowed your eyes. “Tell me, what is your purpose for coming here, anyway?”

Sukuna laughed—a cold, cruel, taunting laugh. “Can a man not step foot in his future palace?” But, when he noticed the confusion evident on your face, he smiled grimly, before taking you arm-in-arm. “Let’s take a walk, shall we?”

It was more of an order, if anything, but with the strength he used to pull your arm into his, and with the intimidatingly imperiling energy practically radiating off his body, you did not refuse his subtle coercion to take a stroll around the gardens, (especially since his gladius was still strapped in its harness).

Taking a slow pace, the two of you walked arm-in-arm around the various bushes, plants, trees, and vineyards that surrounded the estate. While making your way around the scenic landscape, Sukuna, in a low voice, began to speak.

He told you of his imprisonment, and how, for four years, he had been idly rotting away in a cell, before his persecutors decided to finally end his life and throw him in an arena. Sukuna did not attend any schooling for gladiators, and was untrained. When he first stepped foot in the Colosseum, almost everyone thought he was to die. But, miraculously, he, instead, survived. His first match, he won. His second match, he won.

The officials kept throwing him into munera, and every single time, he came out undefeated. Sukuna was a criminal since birth, but when he made a career as a gladiator (albeit against his will), he quickly made a name for himself. Ryoumen Sukuna rose in fame and fortune—not only for his skill when it came to swordsmanship, but also for his looks. The man may have been a notorious criminal, but he was a fan-favorite when it came to the ladies.

It was as if the gods regarded Ryoumen as their champion, seeing as they granted him victory through every editor that oversaw his matches.

With each gladiatorial game that passed, Sukuna’s opponents only grew tougher and tougher, which, mind you, never proved a problem. The man’s prizes and incentives for surviving the arena increased with each match, and Sukuna’s wealth grew in unmistakable abundance, surpassing even the fortune of an average nobleman.

When Sukuna was but a boy, he never dreamed of a life in the Colosseum; but in this realm, one either wins or loses. The Parcae wait for no man, and mortals of all ages and all walks of life know one thing: Vincere aut mori.⁵

⁵ Conquer or die.

“Each time I unsheath my blade,” Sukuna began, stopping just before an olive tree, “I do not know whether I will breathe for another night. But the higher-ups in this empire are all but damn fools. The last match, right before we celebrate Vulcan, will determine everything. If I kill Satoru Gojo, my name will live on long after my life’s end. If I die by his trident (the weapon my silver-haired rival wields) . . .” His voice trailed off.

“That’s not a possibility I’m against,” you interjected.

“Very funny.” Sukuna turned to look down at you. “For that’s a possibility that simply will not happen.”

“What, don’t tell me you’ve consulted an oracle or something of the sort?”

The pink-haired man laughed in your face; it was cruel and unsounding. “You dare doubt my victory, woman?”

“I doubt everything when it comes to you.”

Your stroll around the palace gardens came to a sudden end, as Sukuna roughly pulled you by the shoulders and placed you both to stand face-to-face. His expression was dark, and his tone inhumane. “Listen, and listen well, girl. The emperor offers me a prize I cannot reject. If I win my most anticipated match yet, he will bestow upon me—by the power vested by the gods above—whatever it is I please.”

You couldn’t help but interrupt once more, your curiosity getting the best of you. “You mean to tell me, you’ll ask for the empire? Is that what you mean by ‘future palace?’”

“I won’t ask for the empire. No, my prize will be something far greater. And when I get it, the empire will soon fall into my hands as easily as it was for you to fall into mine.”

“So, that’s all it is that you want? The empire?”

Sukuna leaned down to meet your eyes, his stare burning holes through your flesh. “I want control.”

“Well, let me tell you something, sir,” you began, coolly, whilst taking a step backwards with each word you spoke, “you won’t find that here.”

But when you were just about to exit the garden, and finally get the fuck away from the brute of a man you called Sukuna, you could just barely hear him utter—with that sensuously slow voice of his—five words, that seemed to stick with you even after you left the premises. “Oh, I don’t intend to.”

It was as if you had pushed your luck far too much for the gods’ pleasure, and now, they were giving you something along the lines of a punishment.

Even after Sukuna’s visits changed from daily, to every other day, to weekly, and then, to nothing but a faint memory of the past, his voice never left your head, like a deity putting a certain thought or belief or action into a mortal’s mind. It was overbearing, and you couldn’t draw the line between delusion and reality.

When you set off to fetch herbs for, say, preparing baths or something of the like, Ryoumen’s cold, dark voice, which practically dripped with malice, seemed to follow you every way you went. Feeling a hand perch on your shoulder always had you shuddering, whether it was a trick of the mind or an action actually done by someone else. Entertaining yourself with the playing of an instrument—you preferred the cithara⁶—degressed from a pastime to a new torture method. Between picking strings and producing melodies, came the haunting face of Ryoumen Sukuna, which proved more of a distraction rather than a stimulation, seeing as dissonance and incorrect, out-of-tune notes were the only sounds played.

⁶ An instrument.

You knew that you were in your right mind when you first met the fact that you avoided the man for being afraid of him, but only now, were you finding yourself validated by the shivers you got from the mere thought of him appearing. Somnus was not a god of your favor; your dreams—more like nightmares, it seemed—only filled you with more despair each time you arose in a cold sweat.

It was unfair how much of an effect the beast had on you.

Alas, your hopes of freedom were for naught.

Another fortnight passed, and it had now been a total of thirty days since you last spectated a gladiator match. You were neither surprised nor anxious when the empress dragged you along to another match at the Colosseum (by then, you had realized it was practically fate), but what you were astonished to see, however, was the sight of fires which blazed unwaveringly before you.

It was evening; the arena was lit up with several immensely-sized bonfires, whilst the air darkened with the amount of smoke flying up to the clouds above; the stands were decorated in tapestries and other displays of insignias; and the crowds bustled and roared with uncontrollable excitement and an unquenchable lust for blood.

The emperor sat in his respected box—the cubiculum—with his lions beside him, while you and the empress sat in the Imperial Box opposite to his.

The night was young, and the winds—smelling of the fragrant incense being burned—lashed and whipped unforgivably at your plaited updo and thin clothing. Even with the bright, old stars beaming down at the gold of your jewelry, your eyes shone downwards, covered ever so slightly by the veil you wore atop your head. You did not want to watch this match, but, despite the fact, you neither declined nor pressed for complaints when the empress ordered for your accompanying presence at the amphitheater.

“My child,” was what she began with, before saying, “the Parcae.”

It was short, it was simple, and yet it had the same effect on you that it would have—had her selection of words been more compious.

Fate called you.

There was no doubt in that.

For, when you found your seat in the arena . . . There it was again. That same piercing gaze delivered your way, and that same intimidated reaction you experienced. Like prey having been caught in its predator’s trap. A shiver ran up your spine at the feeling of two red, crimson eyes staring right back at you, and you worked arduously to ignore his unmistakable stare, using turning to the side and facing a neighbor or digging in your bag as an excuse to escape making eye contact.

Ryoumen Sukuna had entered through the Gate of Life, (as did all gladiators of the time), and if the growing rowdiness of the crowds hadn’t brought you to that attention, the sudden chill in the air would.

Gojo Satoru’s entrance into the Colosseum followed soon after, and you bit your lip at the memory of the last time you met his sea-blue eyes. It was distant, long-past, but you liked to think about it every now and then; sometimes when you dipped your fingers into similarly-colored waters, or, when the clouds rained and thundered over the empire.

Familiarity breeds contempt, but you did not know the silver-haired gladiator like you feared his crimson-eyed opponent. Fear is power. Power is love.

“Dearie,” called the woman dressed in ornate fabrics, as she placed a hand on your knee, “do quit the shaking of your leg. If the sight of blood brings about your nerves, we can always have someone over to cover your eyes with a palm branch when the time comes. I am not mistaken, corrigere?⁷”

⁷ Correct.

“No, Empress, I appreciate your kindness, but,” you paused, casting your eyes downward, “there will be no need. I can assure you that, blood hardly disturbs me in the slightest. I am just . . .” Your voice trailed off, your fingertips grazing the folds of your palla. “I wonder who will survive this evening.”

“My, my, my, has my dearie taken an interest in gladiatorial matches?” The empress smiled, teasingly. “I didn’t know you cared for a matter you previously spoke about with such disdain.”

Your cheeks warmed, fists clenched, and your breath caught in your throat. Embarrassment was an inexplicable feeling, and you looked to the side before changing the subject. “Who has your favor?”

“Is that even a question?” The woman erupted in laughter, surprised at how you could even question her about who she rooted for, especially due to the known fact about one man, and one man only, who had been dwelling at the royal abode as a repeated visitor.

You whispered mumblings under your breath—something along the lines of paenitemus,⁸ or, ignoscas mihi.⁹

⁸ Apologies.

⁹ Excuse me.

“My turn to question,” the empress managed, between her fit of laughter, “tell me, daughter of mine, which lucky man has your favor?”

You were silent for a moment—indecisive, one could say—but thanked the gods above when the gladiators were abruptly called to state their oaths, and, therefore, giving you an excuse to avoid providing the empress an audible answer.

You leaned forward in your seat, and watched as both Ryoumen Sukuna and Gojo Satoru spoke, consecutively, with their eyes set on one another. The crowds ceased their commotion, and watched, with intent so significant it brought them practically to the edges of their benches, as the challengers gave their swearings of the vow directly tying them to the will of the gods as they gave away their lives—the sacramentum gladiatorum, it was called.

Sukuna’s eyes were dark, that you could tell, and the overall atmosphere surrounding him screamed a lust for blood. His voice was cold, as if he wanted to get everything over with already, whilst the ruby on his swords’s hilt shone reflective under the moonlight’s illumination. He did not speak like it was an obligation, he spoke like it was a duty.

“Uri, vinciri, verberari, ferroqua necari pateor,” they both vowed.

Each man knew he were to either conquer or die; the speaking of those words only solidified the matter for all to hear. Victor or not, the lives of gladiators are objects of entertainment according to the match’s editor’s will. The gods speak, blood drips, and blades bury the undead. Spectators are roused as both competitors ready themselves, (which is a spectacle in itself, truthfully speaking), but you, on the other hand, are only able to watch with a sense for danger in the air. It was almost amusing. Timor mortis morte pejor.¹⁰

¹⁰ The fear of death is worse than death.

As both men began to circle each other, throwing insults and taunts, you could not help but drift off to the memory of that fortnight Sukuna spent at the palace. His words lingered in your ears, and the feeling of his hands on your shoulders, his arm around yours—it was . . . you couldn’t put a finger on it. There was, just, something about what he said that gave you an uncanny feeling in your gut.

Sukuna wanted control, you knew that, but, if he came out victorious this same night, he wasn’t planning on asking for the empire. He already made sure you got that through your skull, but, all the same, you couldn’t pin-point what it was that he did want. Gold? Treasures? He already had plenty. Women? No, his collection of admirers already exceeded a great number. Land? Yes, that had to be it. But, then again, whatever it was that Ryoumen wanted, he claimed it would have the empire falling into his hands sooner or later. Land couldn’t possibly be the answer for that . . .

Whilst you stayed in your head, thinking to yourself, the match had already begun to get less boring. Both men had each delivered at least two hits to the other, and the clanks! of iron against iron could be heard audible throughout the arena.

Sukuna took side-steps, a new technique he had developed, while the silver-haired gladiator struck the tips of his trident at places most people wouldn’t have even imagined possible.

Grunting, the pink-haired man swung his gladius like it was a mere toy, while spitting on the coarse, rough sand. That action alone sent several sections of the Colosseum swooning. But, despite the fact, Gojo didn’t let any of it get to his head, and, in lieu, let out an almost facetious whistle.

“Dunno if you’re aware, Ryoumen, but this isn’t exactly a great time to pick up ladies,” was what the lean, pale man said, joking, as he continued stabbing with his trident.

“Any time is a great time; what are you going on about? Could pick up a chick with my eyes closed.”

The two men went forwards and backwards with their banter, like two boys rebelling and messing around in school. They joked like immature adolescents, but fought like champions of the gods. The skies were cloudless, with the moon shining bright, and it was thus unclear whose side Olympus was on. But what really confused you, was the sudden thumping sound that reached your ears. Especially with the lack of drums or any similar instruments visible, you were left in a sense of unanswerableness.

The sound of the thumping was loud, and continued to increase in volume as the match went on. Gojo slashed at Sukuna’s armor—the drum beat faster; Sukuna stabbed at Gojo’s helmet—the drum beat in a staccato fashion; Gojo stumbled on his own two feet, struggling to fight back against Ryoumen’s gladius—the drum did not beat faster, but, instead, crescendoed, along with the roars of the crowds.

It was incredibly overwhelming.

You turned to the empress, in order to ask if the emperor had hired any percussion players, but Her Imperial Majesty paid you no mind, for she was extremely engrossed in the fight, repeatedly expressing her frustrations and anticipation by cursing under her breath.

Everyone was in their own world. Spectators, as they watched and rooted for their favorite gladiator. Nobles, as they placed bets and other games of the like. The emperor and empress, as they analyzed the match and reactions of the crowds (as to decide who to favor when the time came for a turned thumb). And, if it wasn’t obvious before, the gladiators, as they fought for both their lives and honor.

First blood was drawn a while ago, but only now, had real stabs been given. Pierced through his armor, clutching at his chest while taking steps backwards, was none other than the infamous, silver-haired Gojo Satoru. You did not know much about him, other than the fact he was an attractive man (A/N: don’t even start with me), but you couldn’t help but feel pity seeing him come to a loss so soon.

While the drum beat faster, and the volume amplified, booming across the walls of the amphitheater, you could make out, just slightly, the life returning back to Gojo’s eyes. Blood dripped, yes, but it was not plentiful enough for death to visit the grounds of the Colosseum.

Gojo’s hands twitched, his slender, pale fingers stained with blood and marked with sand, but his figure fought back for composure, and the fact soon became clear as his legs grew stiff, and his steps grew less irregular as the seconds went by.

You weren’t the only one who seemed to notice the man’s recovery, but it would have been strange to admit Ryoumen was the one behind it all. Seeing as a duel to the death in an arena was all a mere lousy game to the pink-haired brute, it wasn’t a refutable accusation to say Sukuna was only toying with his opponent’s life. Nearly piercing through Gojo’s chest, just to stand and watch solemnly as he stumbled—you soon grew familiar with the idea of Ryoumen testing the waters: seeing just how much Gojo could take before the ever anticipated match-ending move was played.

Murder flashed in the pair of crimson eyes, and the etchings on Sukuna’s gladius gleamed under the moonlight as he drew up his sword for one last round.

Gojo regained his stance, delivered a blow at Sukuna’s side, which, for second, appeared to at least wound the beast, but Ryoumen, ever the calculated, drew back; and as the drum continued to beat and thump in the background, both men fought with a newfound rush of vitality and zeal for blood. Hollers sounded through the crowds, coins dropped into dishes, and the shaking of your leg quickened.

Sukuna kept silent, like a scheming child, while he hit Gojo with the end of his sword. The attack was with enough force for the silver-haired gladiator to be knocked down, off his feet, and onto the floor of the arena. A retaliation was not lacked, as Sukuna received small, insignificant and weak stabs of the trident to his abdomen, as Gojo fought for the continuation of his name, but it was for naught.

The climax of the drum’s beating was reached when Sukuna delivered an almost humorous kick to his opponent, before turning to face the emperor in his Imperial Box. Gojo’s face was full of yearning and want—but, whether it was for death or life was uncertain. He laid, injured and on the brink of mortality, but he was silent, and ceased any more attacks.

Crowds grew silent, but stayed as rowdy (somehow), as everyone turned to the emperor in anticipation. Clothed in the naturally designated purple toga, with a laurel wreath to emit godly status and authority, the emperor stood before and above all. A pollice verso¹¹ was given, after careful thought, and as the beating of the drum quickened, the blade of Ryoumen Sukuna’s gladius was driven through the heart of Gojo Satoru.

¹¹ Turned thumb.

But before such an action occurred, the beast did not forget, with audible cruelty, to spit out the words, “The moonlight’s illumination makes it easier . . . to see how pathetic you are.”

Blood seeped from the wound in Gojo’s chest and spilled out from between cracked lips; and as the fallen gladiator was soon carried out the Gate of Death, the beating of the invisible drum ceased, and you lost your capability to form words.

Surprise, pity, anger—they were all shown in your expression. With parted lips, and denial etched all over your face, you sunk down in your seat as others around you stood up to applaud, cheer, cry out, and much more.

At his zenith, Ryoumen Sukuna backed away from the corpse at his feet, dug his gladius into the floors of sand, and looked ‘round at his spectators. Turning his head, meeting the eyes of those who wanted him dead and those who prayed for his victory, Sukuna held a scowl on his face, like he wasn’t affected in the slightest by having just murdered a man.

Ryoumen was a man who knew how to hold himself in stance and gait, much like a god or a king. Raising his arms wide, eyes flickering to pierce everyone’s souls, his voice came out just as cold as it had been last fortnight—when he decidedly said, in front of everyone, “Behold, mortals; feast your eyes upon the monster you have set free for your pleasure.”

This was the King of the Colosseum.

You could see that much, now.

***

The sun rose proud, the mockingbirds cooed gently, and the blessing of the dawn of a new day had been upon citizens of Rome.

Senators were gathered ‘round while royals and other noblemen stood and watched alongside. Whispers and murmurs were plenty, but when the emperor asked for whatever it was that the gladiator wanted, there was a stunned silence as the pink-haired beast took long, full strides to approach none other than you. Kneeling before your feet, and kissing the back of your outstretched palm, even the gods watched with pleasure and anticipation whilst an answer revealed itself.

Silent, swift, and yet, never before, so concise. The air was still, the noise had ceased, and even the falling of a pin could be heard clear as day whilst your figure twitched and shook ever so slightly—fear having begun its taking of your body.

It was needless to voice that same wretched look Ryoumen Sukuna offered your way, his crimson eyes peering up at you from beneath his eyelashes. It was nothing short of a horror.

The day after Gojo Satoru’s death, a circle of royal acquaintances had gathered at a pavilion of the palace to watch as the emperor granted whatever prize Ryoumen Sukuna wished for. Elephants, tigers, lions, and other beasts of the wild, were already lined up and harnessed. Stacks of jewelry and treasures littered the marble floors. It was clear the emperor had already expected what offers could be possibly made, and so he decorated the palace in accordance. But, when the fearsome gladiator chose to, in lieu, take you as his bride for a prize, there was unanimous astonishment.

Rising back to his feet, the pink-haired victor—dressed in his signature red cloak, ruby-adorned blade, and now, an additional laurel (to signify his victory the last evening)—looked down at you with a strangeness about his eyes. Your hand was still in Sukuna’s when he turned to face the emperor, who stood with a calm demeanor, contrasting just about everyone.

“You ask for the princess?” the emperor questioned, curious.

“If it can be done.”

The emperor laughed, adding, “But, you must know, son, there are many women who will not be happy by this news.”

At this, the crowds burst into laughter. The tension in the air dissipated, but you . . . you looked at the ground and at your feet, praying you misheard or were even dreaming. But alas, you couldn’t have strayed farther from the truth.

“You would kiss the hand of your prisoner?” you whispered, whilst everyone was distracted in their fits of laughter.

“Am I not a prisoner, as well?”

***

You were twenty years old when your hair was parted by a spear, separated into six locks, crowned with nature’s gifts and herbs, and covered by a flammeum (also known as a veil). With your face painted, jewelry adorned, and dress made ready, you were escorted and sent off to join in matrimony with Ryoumen Sukuna. Tears in your eyes, a palm branch in your hands, the completion of the ceremony came, and it was then time for the wedding feast: the banquet.

It was to take place at the atrium of the palace, similar to the wedding ceremony.

Pheasants were killed, venison was brought, raw oysters were consumed, and shellfish made its appearances at the banquet. You sat beside the man you now called your husband, picking at your meals and distracting yourself with entertaining the guests. Sukuna, on the other hand, sat silent, for the most part; his hand resting on your hip as he watched, full of intent, as your lips parted and moved with each syllable you uttered.

There were a-plenty dancers, poets, and musicians present at both the wedding ceremony and banquet, but, for each ritual up until now, Sukuna had failed to take his eyes off of you. Red, crimson orbs—that seemed to never stray from yours.

It had been a week since you last spoke to Sukuna, the day he claimed you as his, and, in truth, if it were in your will, you would wish to never speak to him again. You hardly paid any mind, at all, to him as the both of you sat side-by-side, presenting yourselves as a married couple to the families, friends, and well-wishers who attended your wedding feast.

When the attention was directed elsewhere, and you received a much-needed break from entertaining your guests with talk of whatever it was that came to your mind, you reached for your goblet of wine, thirsty and parched, but were stopped by a ring-adorned, scarred hand, belonging to Sukuna, which held you firm by the wrist.

“I have murdered a man for you, dear wife,” began Sukuna, a cold, enigmatic look in his eyes as he peered into your face; “there is blood on my hands solely for your sake, and you refuse to even acknowledge my presence?”

You tried fighting back, stretching your fingers and reaching out for your goblet, but, surprise-surprise, his strength surpassed yours. With a huff of defeat, your hand—once writhing in your husband’s grasps—relaxed, and you gave into responding. “Do not forget, husband, I was not the one who called on you to do such a thing.”

Sukuna laughed, released your wrist, and opted to rest the side of his face on his fist as he watched you drink, a demented (but captivated) look on his face all the while. “Gods, I always forget how much of a sweet-talker you can be,” he snickered.

“You are delusional,” you deadpanned, continuing with your drink.

“And you, my dear, are—”

“Bitchy?”

“No.”

“Cruel?”

“No.”

“Exasperating?”

“I was going more for . . . bewitching.”

You set your wine down; silent, as you avoided Sukuna’s eyes.

But the man had different plans, seeing as he gingerly seized your left hand, and laid a kiss upon your ring finger (which connected to the vena amoris¹²), before kissing down each digit, making sure his lips met almost every piece of gold on your hand. The action would’ve been seen as romantic through your eyes, if you had forgotten what got the two of you here in the first place.

¹² Vein of love.

You did not speak until he was done, and when he was, you said, your voice above a whisper, “Husband.”

“Wife.” His response was almost immediate.

“I am . . .” You turned to meet his eyes. “I am bored, and would like to hear a story. A tale. Anything.”

“What is it you want to know?”

“Tell me—Tell me why you chose me.”

“I chose you because . . . I wanted you. Simple. Can a man not have his wants? His needs? As one chooses their life’s path, so I have chosen a woman I worship. A woman I need. A woman I love.”

“Need I remind you that lust is not love?”

A darkness came over Sukuna’s eyes, like a storm succeeding the calm. “Lust can be many things,” he replied, before lifting his goblet. “Care for a drink?”

You lifted your goblet, but hesitated, caution taking over your nerves. “I have had enough to drink for the night.”

“What, no toast for your husband?” Sukuna joked, his tone sly and cunning, as if there were an ulterior motive laced beneath his invitation.

You turned to face Sukuna, the bracelets and cuffs on your wrist sliding from their rightful places ever so slightly.

“Never in a million eons, you devil.” Seven words uttered before you finished off the wine in your goblet in one go.

The wedding feast ended with confarreatio, which led to the beginning of the next ritual. Domum deductio took place, and, that same evening, your innocence was stolen—ripped right out from your cold, bare, fucking, hands.

𝐀𝐂𝐓 𝐈𝐈𝐈.

Marriage, actually, wasn’t all quite as bad as you had imagined . . . Okay, that was a lie.

Your first debut outdoors, after your joining in nuptials and being on the arm of Ryoumen Sukuna in front of government officials and nobles, took place a week after your wedding ceremony. The two of you had gotten up to making much use of your lectus genialis, and, even with the longing of fresh air and seeing familiar faces, it still took a bit of convincing for you to exit the doors of the estate; for, exhaustion had gotten the best of you.

It was hot outside; the sun shone cruelly, but you enjoyed being outside of the estate’s premises for once.

“I still don’t understand why you declined traveling by a litter,¹³” Sukuna said, bitterly, as he sat with his arms crossed, and his expression stern, whilst looking out the carpentum’s¹⁴ windows.

¹³ During Ancient Rome, a litter was a portable couch or bed that was carried by slaves or animals.

¹⁴ A luxurious Roman carriage used by the privileged.

“I am not a fan of parading,” came your calm reply.

“You’re a princess—by blood or not. Either way, a woman, as beautiful and alluring as you, should be treated as such.”

Your cheeks did not warm; Sukuna’s way of speaking about you like this was far from new, and you had gotten used to it, ever since your first encounter.

“Ryoumen,” you called, almost like a mother soothing a fussy child, “why do you feel the need to coddle me?”

“Coddling?” he repeated, seemingly offended. “You’re my wife, my treasure. The question should be why I would do anything but.”

The noises of the bustling street, talk of the people, and the sound of clothing against clothing, were all drowned out by the running of hooves and the whips of the carpentum driver. It was a spacious carriage, you had to admit, but with the amount of times the vehicle rocked and jerked on the uneven roads, you had soon begun to find yourself sitting impossibly close to Sukuna. Your elbows touching, shoulders meeting—it was uncomfortable due to the evident size differences.

“You forget that you won me, husband.”

“What is the difference?” sighed Sukuna, running a hand down his face. “I would’ve put a ring on your finger sooner or later.”

“. . .”

“Though, I do argue that, killing a man for your hand, was quite romantic . . . What, don’t give me that face.”

You looked at Sukuna with a stupid expression. “You . . . are a silly man.”

“All but for one woman,” he replied.

When you entered the carpentum, neither of the two of you knew where it was you were going. To the shops, to the villages, to the palace—it was unknown. Or, maybe, the destination was to remain indefinite on purpose. You liked traveling through the city, meeting the eyes of citizens you hadn’t seen in what felt like forever. You enjoyed the scent of home-cooked meals wafting through the air, and children laughing as they played in the streets. You liked it all, and you missed it all, even. But, gods, were you getting soft.

There was a pair of men passing through the road, and you would not have noticed them had the vehicle not yielded to let them pass.

“Look at their shoes,” Sukuna said, leaning in closer as the carriage was stopped, so you could hear him over the commotions. “Disgusting.”

“Do remember you were born in a prison, husband.” You remained straight-faced whilst you spoke, as neutral as one could be whilst keeping your eyes forward.

Sukuna let out a bark-laugh. “What a saint you are, huh.”

Your carriage was just about to approach a turning corner, when, completely out of the blue, you heard one of the men exclaim to the other, “Ah, look at that one, Caius! A sight for sore eyes, ain’t she?”

His companion replied, saying, just as scandalously, “Not half-bad, my friend,” he laughed, eyeing you up and down. “Never before have I wished more to be an emperor; just imagine what works I could perform if she was a slave.”

“If?”

“If. No way she’s anything but royalty. No man in his right state of mind would let her out of the streets if she was property.”

The two men snickered, carrying woven baskets filled with crops as they went, completely oblivious to the way Ryoumen sized the both of them up, seemingly possessed by a sudden lust for blood. Now that he thought about it, he had not killed in a while.

You tried to put a hand on Sukuna’s arm, in a poor attempt to soothe his growing anger, but he did not pay any mind to that, for he stuck his head out the luxuriously decorated carpentum, and retaliated against the perversion of the men with insults of his own. Yelling Latin curses left and right, all the obscenities in the book and footnotes. His voice was cold, and rough around the edges, but what surprised you most, was the tone in which he said, “Somnia omnia quae vis, nothi; praecidam manus tuas antequam tangas eam.¹⁵” You had never seen or heard such anger.

¹⁵ Dream all you want, bastards; I will cut off your hands before you even touch her.

But, before Sukuna could say something more offensive than “Te futueo et caballum tuum,” or, “Fututus et mori in igni,” the men recognized his carnage-filled reputation in the Colosseum from his notorious tattoos, and, with such fear they could’ve wet themselves, the both of them went, scurrying off in the opposite direction of where they came from, even going as far as dropping every basket they carried before making a run for it.

You caught a glimpse of them in their distress, and agreed—their shoes were disgusting.

Although settling into Sukuna’s estate took little time, familiarizing yourself with life as a married couple, on the other hand, took . . . some time, to say the least. The both of you had your ups and downs, and the path to warming up to your husband was a rocky one, seeing as your marriage was not out of love (not in the beginning, for the most part); so, naturally, there were some days where the two of you did not get along so well. And, who knew valets and maidservants could serve as such good marriage counselors?

Bright, sunny days had you seated outside, beneath the shade of olive trees, and while the songbirds sang along, you often kept yourself occupied by playing your cithara.⁶ Your husband was seldom home for most of the day, and you had learned how to keep busy whilst the only company you had was the flames rising forth from the hearth, and the tamed animals which lingered while your fingers danced across melodious strings.

⁶ An instrument.

Today was different.

Sukuna had no appointments to meet, no guests to entertain, and no matches to play. He met you in the gardens of your home, and stood, stiff and broad, just three paces from where you sat on a fountain’s coping. It was as if he were afraid to approach, to disturb and interrupt your playing, but you knew he was just deciding whether or not he was welcome.

“You play well,” came the sound of his voice.

“How could I not? There is never much to do around here.”

“Weaving?” He raised an eyebrow, still standing still like a statue.

“I fear I do not see as much joy in that as I used to.”

“And why is that, dear wife?”

“I find . . . other activities to take up the majority of my time.”

“Such as?”

Romans were barbarians in the arena and in the bedchambers.

You did not know sex until you were bedded by Ryoumen, and you did not know libido until you experienced what it meant to really be fucked. Growing up, sexual intercourse was always described as marital duties, but with Sukuna, it felt like a pleasure—quite literally.

Day and night, night and day.

It was all you knew the week following your wedding ceremony, and it was all you desired when coming home to the brute of a man you called your husband. The two of you did not exit the bedroom once during the week you spent after the final nuptial ritual. He had ruined you in the best way possible, you sometimes thought, and with little difficulty had he gotten you addicted to the feel of his cock, his tongue, and his fingers. Merely thinking about it all had your cheeks growing warm and your core practically aching with need.

But sex wasn’t all you received from the man; there was also endless banter, cruel mocking, rough touches, and arguments. Sukuna wasn’t a kind, vanilla man, you realized that the moment you laid eyes on him; and he was, if anything, a deviant. A monstrous one, at that.

Retaliating against him got you absolutely nowhere, and arguments only ended in sex. It wasn’t healthy, no, but it wasn’t like anyone said it would be.

With every step you took backwards, Sukuna followed with two forwards. The two of you had been arguing about a trivial matter—it had been long forgotten, actually—but neither of you had the decency to end your quarrel. Your yells and insults echoes throughout the walls of the estate, and servants paid mind to avoid the room you two currently occupied.

“Have I ever told you how much I absolutely loathe your pompous, fucking, ass?”

“Oh, sweetheart, only about a million times,” he answered, obviously taking your anger with a grain of salt. “But, how could I not? when you always do more than just tell me.”

You narrowed your eyes at the man, and cursed. “Go rip out your tongue and rub it raw with a strigil.”

“I always forget how much I love to hear you dirty-talk.”

“You are a dog,” you spat out, as Sukuna had you backed up against the edge of a table.

“And you, my dear wife, are a beauty to behold.”

Mentally having patted himself on the back for rendering you speechless, Sukuna closed the distance between you two and placed a kiss on your hand like he always did. Sexually appealing, successful, and charming? Damn the gods for giving him it all.

You and Sukuna were stood just centimeters apart, his arms caging you in as he stared down upon you with that unforgettable look in his eyes. It was intimidating, indeed, but you were his wife, for gods’ sake! you could surely hold your ground.

“Flattery isn’t getting you anywhere,” you said, placing your palms on the surface of the table behind you as you challenged Sukuna’s unwavering gaze, staring up at him with eyes doe and, still, equally as hardening.

“Good. Flattery isn’t quite my style.”

Sukuna raised a hand to rest on your cheek, before bringing you in for a zealous kiss. All teeth and tongue. It hurt—how rough he held you, that is—but it was a different type of pain. A type of pain you enjoyed suffering. His lips met yours, and you tasted blood on his tongue. You could not tell whose it was. Whether it was from him handling you with little to no care, or it was from him, himself, or it was from another, more foreign, source, you did not know.

You responded to his kiss with just as much violence as lust. Your body pressed against Sukuna’s, seeking as much friction as you could, whilst the two of you molded into each other like pieces of a puzzle. While Sukuna kept you pinned against the table, with nowhere to turn, your hands found their way to perching on his shoulder and on his beating heart, in efforts to maintain stability (which was proving to be a challenge, if you had to be honest).

Whispers and murmurs against lips; nipping and biting of sharp teeth; heavy breathing and the failure to catch breaths—it was overbearing. The room felt stuffy and overcrowded, when, in reality, it was only the two of you.

“Were you—mmph—acting like a bitch because you missed this?” Sukuna jeered, sloppily kissing you between each word.

“I would act like a bitch regardless.” You clawed at his chest and toga, having gone equally as mad from the mere feeling of kisses alone, but, in any way, your words came out all the same as you had intended them. “Taking me as your wife may have come easily to you, but wooing me won’t.”

“Lucky me,” Sukuna exhaled, releasing you from his nearly-suffocating kiss but not from his grasps. “I’m all for a challenge.”

One of his hands shot to your hip, his grip unforgivable and white-knuckled, whilst his other hand trailed down your thigh, slender fingers tickling your warming skin through the fabric of your clothing, and sending the hairs on your neck to stand up. You held your breath, hands back to their original positions on the table’s surface, as Sukuna reached the edge of your dress, lifting it to your waist.

Cool air hit your skin almost instantly, and goosebumps arose along your limbs. But, still, you did not breathe; it wasn’t until Sukuna’s cold, cruel voice spoke up that you did.

“What a pretty little thing you are,” he cooed, staring at the dampness of your core. “No undergarments? Must be all for me.”

He spoke as if you were a feast; it made you bite your lip to the point of bleeding, and caused your legs to almost go wobbly, like a fawn.

Ryoumen tilted his head down to meet your neck, before he sank his teeth beneath the skin of your clavicle. It was scandalous in all the best ways possible, and you couldn’t help the breathy moan which left your lips. He sucked at the wound, kissed it, and moved his lips to other areas of your collarbones. He nipped and bit at freckles and moles, sucked on your skin—leaving love marks in his way, and, despite the feat, never failing to litter sloppy and wet kisses all the while.

With his mouth on your skin, Sukuna’s hands worked elsewhere. He trailed a cold hand up your thigh, teasing you with touches to the point of it becoming agonizing, before finally getting to where you needed him most. You were dripping enough for no lube to be needed, but the man was still courteous enough to dip one finger within your folds, before following with a second. Curling them deep inside of you, and hitting just the right spot; your eyes rolled to the back of your head and your hands shook and jerked uncontrollably as you dug your nails into Sukuna’s toned biceps.

Moans and whimpers left your lips left and right, yet he was only beginning.

His fingers bullied your clit, continuing their assault mercilessly; and whilst the sound of your growing cries bounced around the walls of the estate, his pace and roughness only reached new heights, seemingly possessed by the satisfaction of bringing you to Cloud Nine.

“Sukuna . . .” you whimpered, struggling to form words. “Sukuna, please. Please, I need to—”

“Need to what?”

“I . . . nngh,” you managed, moaning within your pleas, “I need to cum. I need to cum, you stupid bastard.”

“Now, is that any way to speak to your husband?” Sukuna taunted, pausing his attacks on your neck and the skillfulness of his fingers between your legs with not even a second thought.

You were this close to being brought over the edge, and you whined and wiggled your hips as Sukuna stopped reaching so deep within you, but, instead, opted for circling the tips of his fingers around the embarrassingly wet entrance of your clit. It was not even close to enough; he was punishing you, you were sure.

“No, no—nngh! Why did you stop?” you cried, bucking your hips in an attempt at reaching bliss.

“Because you have not an idea on how to speak to the Head of the House, wifey.” His crimson eyes bore into your teary ones, and you clawed and scratched at his neck, trying desperately to pull him closer to you.

“Ryoumen, no, please. Please—I need to . . . I need to . . .” Your voice trailed off. Truthfully speaking, now was possibly the worst time to gain a conscience.

“Use your words, sweetheart.”

“I . . . Please, Sukuna. I need you. I, fuck—I need you. Please.” You looked into his eyes, crying entreaties like your life depended on it. “Please, I need to cum.”

“See? Not so bad, now, was it?”

Sukuna did not resume his assault with his fingers, but, instead, for possibly the first time in history, knelt down, before you, before his wife, and pressed a degrading (if anything) kiss to your pretty, puffy lips, before attaching his mouth to your clit, sucking and licking stripes up and on it with a velocity that left you leaving permanently visible claw-marks on the furnished table.

You could not hear, you could not move, you could not speak, you could only feel. Feel the feeling of Sukuna’s rough tongue gliding through your wetness, plunging and pumping and ravaging throughout your folds, reaching spots deep within you, causing you to see stars as he reached that one good spot. It was ruthless, it was sinful, and it was so, so, so, so wrong, but, then again, it was just so, so, so, so good.

Flicking his tongue, and curling it, Sukuna continued to tease and suck on your clit. The whole act of it was just . . . incredibly intimate. Your thighs squeezed and squeezed, hands gripping his hair for support, but it was still too much. With a final kiss to your clit, you felt the coil build in your stomach, and with a scandalously loud cry, you came on Sukuna’s tongue, shaking and writhing as tears fell from your dazed eyes.

Allowing you to ride out your high, Sukuna lapped at your release, gripping onto the flesh of your ass with white knuckles to keep you from squirming and wiggling.

“Mm, tastes so good, baby.”

“I . . . ahh . . . too—too much. Sensitive.”

“Poor baby,” he cooed, mockingly, before his voice turned cool once more; “you can handle it.”

Rising to his feet, and wiping his mouth clean with the back of his hand, Sukuna stared at the wood behind you whilst watching you catch your breath, chest heaving as you depended on the table for balance. “It was a smart move to buy such a large table,” he murmured, stepping closer.

But before you could ask what on earth it was that Sukuna was referring to, he answered all your questions by lifting you up by the meat of your hips and laying you on your back on the rough wood of the table. It was cool against your bare skin, and sent a shiver running up your spine.

“You . . . What?” you questioned, attempting to sit up, before being roughly shoved back down.

“Don’t ‘What’ me, sweetheart. I’m giving you what you’ve been waiting for. Unless, of course, I’m hearing complaints?”

“. . .” You gulped, swallowing the lump in your throat, before crossing your legs behind Sukuna’s back and pulling him closer to your cunt, the hard-on—barely hidden beneath his toga—being pressed right up against where you needed him most. It sent a shock to your core.

“Now that’s a good girl.”

He pulled the dainty cloth of your dress off your body as easily as it was for you to put it on when you awoke that day’s morning, and mindlessly threw it onto the floor behind him.

“Sukuna, you—could you take any longer?” Laid bare before his eyes, you shivered, but not before pulling your husband impossibly closer. His hands planted on areas beside your head, and your lips met, molding together, as wildly as before.

Squeezing your eyes shut, breathy moans drawn forth from your lips, you held the sides of his throat in your hands, and occasionally carded your fingers through his rosy, unruly hair. All while sneakily dragging a bare foot up the fabric of his toga, revealing tattooed skin as you went. You couldn’t wait any longer, and if you were the one who had to get your husband’s cock out, so be it.

Well, it didn’t matter anyway. Sukuna couldn’t care less for your impatience; he . . . had an appreciation of the sort, for the rare times you took mild control.

Sukuna murmured, laughing against your kiss-bitten lips, “So impatient today, wifey.”

“Like you’re not?”

Sukuna rolled his eyes, looking down at you once the two of you released each other for breath. His eyes were dark and dull, but you noticed the strands of hair askew on his face, (if it wasn’t already enough for you that his toga was now completely off). “Come on. Do you really want to go down that route, sweetheart?”

“I can’t help it. Bullying is just such—o-oh!”

Despite biting your lip, you let out an embarrassingly loud moan, arching your back as Sukuna had your hands pinned down above your head on the table. The first thrust had the air knocked out of your throat, you didn’t even notice it was coming in the first place! Even with the amount of times he bedded you, you had never gotten used to his size. Long, girthy, with veins that twitched and never failed to send you straight to Olympus? Yeah, you couldn’t really blame yourself.

“All it took to keep you from running your mouth was some cock, huh? Yeah, you make such a good whore for your dear husband, don’t you.” His cold, dark voice, complemented with the contradicting degradation and praising words of his sent you spiraling albeit it was only the beginning.

You kicked your feet, whining and gasping for breath when Sukuna took the opportunity to lean down, littering bites and love marks on your bare chest, trailing, ever so slowly, all the way up to the swell of your breasts. Hands still pinned to the table, legs locked around Sukuna’s waist, meeting his continuous thrusts without fail, your back arched with pleasure, giving Sukuna easy access to your tits, bouncing in all their glory before his mouth.

He leaned over your body, the difference in your heights showing itself clearly at this moment, as he swirled a wet, warm tongue around your areola, before attaching his lips to your tit, biting every then and there around the soft mound. Your nipples, perky and hardened long ago, reacted as they always did when they met Ryoumen’s lips. Sensitive, they were, and it showed, when you squirmed uncontrollably under his assaults, eyes opening and closing with vertigo.

“Such pretty tits,” he murmured, his voice sending vibrations to your already aroused buds, “bet they would look even better all swollen with milk for my heir.”

You whined, moaning from the thought alone—argument long forgotten. Your cunt, its walls, actually, tightened at the idea of Sukuna giving you a baby, and you were sure he noticed with the way he was smiling like a madman with your tit in his mouth, one hand pinning yours down, the other twisting and pulling and pinching at your other neglected nipple.

“Mm, yeah. You like the sound of that, don’t you? clenching down on me like a vice. Want me to hold you down and make you a little mommy? Is that what you want?”

You nodded fervorously, throat dry from crying out, and mind already gone and thoroughly fucked-out.

Sukuna laughed, like the cruel man he was. “Well, if that’s what my lovely wife wants, it’s what my lovely wife gets.”

Eyes rolling to the back of your head, you thrashed around and moaned aloud like a crazy woman as the tip of Sukuna’s cock hit you in all the right places. It was incredibly overwhelming, and with the way your walls were convulsing around the cock reaching depths deep within you, the both of you were sure your second orgasm was to come no later than the first one.

Your cervix—kissed over and over and over again by the head of his cock; your tits—groped and bitten and sucked with relentless roughness; there really was no end to the pleasure you received from Sukuna. You felt stimulation all over to the point it was embarrassing how much you were pushed over the edge by simple touches and caresses alone. Even hearing Sukuna’s grunts and the rasp of his voice had your cheeks growing warm and your skin glowing under a thin layer of sweat.

“O-Ohh, I . . . nngh,” you whimpered, your wrists growing sore as your voice grew meek, letting out a soft, quiet “Please.”

Blood rushed to Sukuna’s ears at the sound of your weak voice, and, most importantly, also rushed to his cock. “Do you want me to spell it out for you? We’ve been over this, darling. Use your words.”

“I—but . . . Sukuna, please! I need to . . . I need to cum. I—hahh.” You let out a shaky exhale, your orgasm within fingertips’ reach.

“You want to cum? Go on, then, and cum right on your husband’s cock, just like the slut of a wife you are.”

Everything turned to black when you reached your climax; warm, sticky whiteness running down the base of Sukuna’s cock. He finished inside of you soon after, one last grunt and deep groan marking his release, whilst his seed filled you to the hilt, reaching deep inside of your quite fertile cunt at his cock still being buried in your twitching walls. You didn’t think at all about the possibilities which could follow after having laid down with Sukuna unprotected, and it seemed it was the same for him, as well.

His grip on your wrists did not give out, but still, nevertheless, loosened ever so slightly, revealing a ring of red marks around your wrists. You breathed out a sigh, shaking with eye-opening bliss as your stomach, once empty, was now bloated with the impeccable amount of semen shot by your husband. It swelled, full and swollen, painted white with ropes of cum, and when Sukuna pressed down on the bulging outline of his cock, you let out a poor whine.

“Don’t tell me you’ve given out on me just yet, sweetheart. You don’t think we’re finished already, do you?”

***

Crawling out from beneath messed up sheets, climbing over sprawled out limbs, and tiptoeing around in nothing but a loose-fitting stola had your escape occurred—exiting from the bedchambers smelling of musk and sex, and entering the balcony, seeking breaths of fresh air.

You did not usually awake before your husband (he was usually up and out of the room by the time you opened your eyes), but perhaps yesterday’s exertions had tired him out, seeing as neither of you slept from after supper to the break of day. And, yes, while you, too, were also thoroughly exhausted, you fell into the arms of Somnus much before Ryoumen did, which likely contributed to your quite early waking.

The view downwards was pretty. Blurred shades of green and blue and white. You could see servants walking to-and-fro, and, for a moment, you remembered when your life was something similar.

The sun shone on your face as brightly as it did when you first saw the man still lying asleep in your bed, but you did not raise an arm to shield your eyes. It was quiet, and you felt more alive than you did in weeks.

Morning dew fell from trees, and the birds sang. The railing on which you rested your elbows was cold and rough, it reminded you of something that you could not quite put your finger on, at least, not until you heard the sound of footsteps behind you, and the yawning and cracking of unused bones.

“Surprised to see you’re not already knocked up with my kid,” came the raspy, unfamiliar morning-voice from behind you.

“Surprised to see you awake at a time after six,” you quipped, not turning around to face your lover.

Warm arms wrapped around your waist, and a bare chest pressed itself against your back as Sukuna’s lips met your collarbones, kissing your skin in greeting. “A snarky one, aren’t you? What, did last night not soothe your wants?”

He was always so clingy in the mornings. Like a needy child.

“. . .You are only wearing a subligaculum,¹⁶” you observed, changing the subject with haste.

¹⁶ An undergarment.

“It’s not like I hear any complaints,” he joked. “Besides, no one’s up here. Don’t tell me you’re afraid of a servant taking a little peek.”

You swallowed. “Nonsense.”

“Smart girl.” He rested his chin on the top of your head, his weight resting on yours, causing you to lean the combination of your weight on the balcony railing. “Now, tell me, what is someone like the missus doing someplace out here?”

“Can a woman not be alone in peace?”

Sukuna seemed to pause in faux thought, before finally saying, “Not when that woman is my woman.”

“So, no?”

“No.”

“. . .”

“What are you doing out here?” you questioned.

“Seeing my wife,” he stated, in a matter-of-fact fashion.

“But,” you bit your lip, “don’t you have any business to attend to?”

Sukuna rolled his eyes, removing his chin off of your head and, trailing an ice-cold hand down your spine, which sent shudders throughout your body, he slid a sneaking finger up your thigh, until, with an agonizingly slow pace, he stuck a digit up your cunt. All this he did in a casual manner, like it was an everyday thing—which, technically speaking, it was.

“Are you trying to get me to leave you alone?” he asked, as if he didn’t have a finger up your pussy, “because it might be a little late for that.”

You whimpered, collapsing on the balcony railing for support when a second finger was added.

Sukuna curled his fingers, scissoring them and quickening his pace as he did so. The squelching of your cunt sent you over the edge, the idea of someone overhearing—or, worse, seeing—the two of you in this act had your eyes rolling to the back of your head.

“Sukuna, please, we—nngh! We shouldn’t . . .” You let out a shaky exhale. “Not—Not out here.”

Sukuna leaned down to place a kiss to the lobe of your ear, giving a sloppy, dirty lick to the skin there. “Why not?”

“Because . . . someone—” You were cut off by Sukuna’s fingers hitting your sweet spot, and couldn’t help but let a scandalously obnoxious cry slip from between your lips, the three syllables of your husband’s name following soon after, like a prayer.

“Because someone, what?”

His voice mocked you, whilst the longest of his fingers bullied your cunt, and his thumb, every so often, circled around and applied pressure to your clit.

“Sukunanngh . . . I—You . . . You bastard,” you groaned, whining against the palm slapped over your mouth.

“What was that? Oh, you want me to fuck you?” His fingers moved faster, his voice growing cruel and dark. “Well, who am I to decline my bride, hm?”

Pulling his fingers out from between your legs, leaving you a shaking, heaving mess, Sukuna moved on to bring the ends of your dress to your hips, gripping and groping the flesh there as he pressed the outline of his cock against your slick.

Your breath got caught in your throat, choking on your spit, and you whined from the weight of his cock against your ass. You were dripping from the thought alone of Sukuna taking you right now, right here—out in the open, out on the balcony, where anyone, and I mean anyone, could catch a glimpse of their master and mistress from below.

Teasing the fat, leaking tip of his cock against your entrance, you bit your lip till you bled, pressing your ass back against Sukuna for any sort of friction to relieve you of the throbbing of your core, but that only worked against you; a harsh slap! was delivered to your left ass cheek, which sent you crying out, arching your back away from Sukuna. But that wasn’t even close to enough.

Bringing a hand to the column of your throat, his nails digging into your skin, creating red, angry crescent marks, Sukuna had you gasping for breath as he held your throat in his grasp, choking you to the point of gagging, but not yet enough to cut off your airway.

Leaning down, he whispered in your ear, saying, in that rough voice of his, “You wanted to be fucked like the dirty whore you are? I’ll show you how much of a dirty whore you are.”

Grabbing a handful of your ass, Sukuna pushed you against the balcony railing, bending you over with ease.

“Wait, I . . . I—mmph! . . Nngh . . . Ahh—Ahh!”

Your voice, still evidently hoarse from last night, was cut off by Sukuna slamming his cock into your cunt, shutting you up as his hips pistoned against yours whilst you braced yourself by clawing at the railing below you.

“You are dripping. You really are insatiable, huh . . .” he muttered, releasing your throat as you gasped for air, only to be cut short by rough, deep thrusts that had you seeing stars.

“Sukuna . . . hahh.”

“Tight as fuck, aren’t you? Cunt’s gripping my dick like a goddamn vice.”

Sukuna ripped your hands off the railing, bringing them behind you and binding them together with gods knows what. Probably a cloth he found lying nearby. You writhed and squirmed and writhed and squirmed, but to no avail! Your wrists were bound to your back, held just above your ass. Now, you had no way to hold yourself steady, no longer pushing yourself off of the railing for support.

“I . . . nngh.” Your eyes rolled to the back of your head, you could not find even the strength to complain about your having been tied up.

Fully bent over, your ass bouncing with each thrust, you moaned and mewled to your heart’s desire. Slick dripped down your legs, and though the ticklish sensation left you bothered and just slightly uncomfortable, that feeling was soon forgotten by the cock absolutely pounding your dripping cunt.

Your shame was gone, you were a ruined woman through and through.

“Fucked the attitude out of you, yet?” Sukuna laughed, burying himself inside of you before pulling out, leaving just the tip in, before slamming himself back in, and repeating his assaults. He was like a big, mean bully, having fun by tormenting none other than his bride, his prize, his property.

You thought it degrading, but found heat pooling in your stomach at the afterthought, nonetheless.

“Gods, you . . . you are such a dick,” you managed out, through screams twisted between pain and pleasure, a line which you could not exactly draw.

“It’s what I do best, sweetheart.”

Birds scattered throughout the confines of their habitat at the not-so-peaceful-sounding noise of your cries, and you were sure someone had to have noticed the deviant behavior taking place upstairs on the master’s floor of the estate.

“Then hurry up and make me . . . hahh . . . c-cum, you ass. You are such a—”

One particularly hard thrust had you seeing stars as Sukuna’s cock hit your cervix, surely wounding your womb as the words got stuck in your throat, and your legs gave out beneath you. The only thing holding you up being Sukuna’s hand tangled in your hair, giving a rough tug, which forced your tear-streaked face back, and the other one being on your hip, his grip white-knuckled as his thrusts turned from rough and coordinated to stuttering and staggered.

You came without resolve, your moans merely music to your husband’s ears as he, too, finished inside of you, his cock pumping endless ropes of seed up your cunt, stuffing you till excess bodily fluids were forced to drip down your thighs. Your stomach felt warm and bloated as you were filled to the brim, seed ending up snug in your womb as Sukuna pumped you full of his cum, not wasting a drop, and even going as far as scooping up the excess fluids to shove two fingers in your mouth, allowing—more like forcing—you a taste of your actions.

After all, Ryoumen Sukuna was nothing if not a cruel man.

***

It was the eleventh of October when Sukuna left the estate without a word, and it was the eighteenth of the next week when he returned.

You had been out in the gardens, overseeing the yard-work when, in the middle of giving orders to trim the bushes to the left ever so slightly, a maidservant had come running to notify you of your husband’s departure. He did not leave a note, did not kiss you goodbye, and did not give commands for any of the servants to inform you of his leave (the maid just happened to be particularly loyal to her mistress).

“Cecelia!” was what you first exclaimed, surprised by her sudden appearance beside you. “What brings you here?”

“Mistress, I—I have brought word that the lord of the estate has taken his leave. On a horse or two.” The woman spoke between gasps for air, she seemed out of breath, perhaps from chasing after Ryoumen and his steed(s). “I saw a carriage pull away from the gates, and I . . . I supposed he did not inform you, either.”

“Oh, that’s . . . I thank you for the note, Cecelia. But that will be all. You’re correct, he did not tell me, and,” you paused, touching your index finger to your chin, “I do ponder where he went.”

You assumed your husband would only be missing for one evening, and return the next to fill you in on his seemingly hasty departures. But one sleepless night turned into two, and two turned into three, and three turned into even the advisors of the estate beginning to worry for their master. In turn, however, you had begun to grow indifferent to your missing husband.

On the fourth day, you discovered news of yet another gladiator match that was to take place. And who was to compete in it? Take a guess.

Being petty was a greatness of yours, and, while for a time, you were able to keep entertained by playing your beloved cithara, reading, or tending to your gardens, you had begun to grow bored. The estate was large enough, and, with your husband being gone, you were even more lonely than you were before. You had no children to run through the halls, no friends who could visit the property, and no duties besides your hobbies to keep you company.

On the fifth and sixth day, you had already invited over a number of “guests” to the estate. Your beauty was no unfamiliar subject to the people of Rome, and it wasn’t difficult to find men in want of serving as entertainment to you.

You had some feed you grapes, some play their music to you, some read their philosophy and literature, some tell you of stories from afar; it was all very enjoyable. Or, well, the idea of it was.

On the seventh day, you had appointed a raven-haired, older man to keep you company. He was a traveler of sorts, and had many stories of the West and the East to tell you. From wraths of gods, to legendary criminals, and heinous crimes, he knew it all. He made you laugh, and was . . . not a bad flirt, if you did say so yourself. But it was nothing serious.

You were in the middle of drinking wine with the fellow, when, by the informing of Cecelia, you were notified of a something that required your utmost attention at once. She did not explain further, but you noticed an urgency about her eyes, and did not tarry.

Excusing yourself, you stood up from where you lounged rather casually on the ornately designed sofa, and took graceful, calculated steps down a hallway to the left wing of the estate.

You were nearing the room Cecelia pointed you to when, to your utter surprise, a rough hand had pulled you to the side, keeping your back flush against the chest of a man you could not see, for his other hand held the blade of a dagger right against the column of your throat. Your breathing grew ragged, and your hands went up to attempt (and fail) at removing the dagger-wielding hand.

Your heart pounded, and the blood rushed to your ears.

“Did you miss me, . . . wifey?”

His stray hand was gripping the flesh of your hip, and held you firm above the ground, where you dangled, your legs kicking around uselessly.

“Sukuna? What—What are you doing?” you managed to whimper out, against the dagger being pressed against your neck.

“As much as I love to hear those pretty sounds of yours, angel,” he began, before his voice suddenly turned cold, “there is a man in my house, standing next to my woman, and making her laugh. Care to explain?”

He did not release you from his grasps, but lifted the blade just a centimeter away from the skin of your throat so you could form coherent sentences. How thoughtful.

“When my husband has left for a week with no explanation, am I supposed to not keep myself occupied?”

“So you’ve borrowed a man to keep you company.”

“Are you turning this against me?”

“Should I be?”

Learning your husband has yet to retire from gladiating, and discovering he has come home, with a dagger to your neck upon arrival, was infuriating enough to make you forget the possibility of throwing yourself into his arms in greeting. He did not tell you a word about his match, prior and after, and you were the one in the wrong? Men were nothing but animals.

“. . .”

You kept silent, your face defeated, and Sukuna, finally having decided to let you go, released his hold on you and sheathed his blade once more, before dropping you back onto your feet. You nearly stumbled over yourself finding your balance, as Sukuna began to turn away, walking down the marble-tiled hallways.

“My hands are bloodied. I will be in the bathing quarters.”

All this he said, whilst his back was kept to you.

Several moments later, you had a valet escort the raven-haired guest out of your estate, and, next thing you knew, you were storming down the hallway, the sound of your footsteps reverberating throughout the estate, an evident display of your boiling rage. Your maid-servants weren’t unfamiliar with your and the master’s almost daily feuds, and were, by now, practically accustomed to setting out changes of clothes for when your arguments concluded.

Cursing to yourself as you went, your footsteps continued to thunder as you approached the bathing quarters, where you could hear small splashing sounds inside. You threw open the door, the scowl and glare on your face both clear as day whilst you walked in a straight line towards the pink-haired man who sat at the steps towards the end of the pool.

He was naked, completely bare in all his glory, but you couldn’t notice, not from how clouded your vision was with anger, no. His arms were resting on the edges of the pool, and his expression was cool as he leaned back, watching you approach him with not even a flinch.

“You motherfucker. You think you can just come waltzing in here, and avoid all your problems? You don’t pay any mind to the fact I’ve been worried sick, because my husband has left the estate with not even a word of explanation, and then, come to find out, he’s been gladiating?” You berated him without end, pointing a finger at his emotionless face as you walked along the pool’s edges. “Who do you think you are?

“We’re married, remember? You won me. And now, you’re putting your life on the line? Whilst we are married? I don’t give a fuck whether you’re competing to win more wives, Ryomen, but where does that leave me, huh? If you die? I was just some temporary toy for you, and my life will basically end, as well? I will have no worth, Sukuna. No one takes in a ruined woman. And I’m not a solicitor, or, at least, I don’t want to be . . .”

Sukuna didn’t respond, and you were honestly thankful, actually. You feared, if he did speak, you would fold within seconds, so you took the time you had to get your frustration out and your point made.

“Why couldn’t you have just told me you didn’t retire? I mean, I would still hate you, but . . . fuck, you are such an ass.” You ran a hand down your face, stopping just two paces away from the beast, before continuing your storming. “Gods, you take new lows each day. I can’t believe my life is tied to yours for as long as I live—!”

You were shut up by the action of Sukuna pulling you down by the ankle and dragging you into the pool, manhandling you in all your writhing and struggling, and seating your ass right on his lap with ease, your back flush against his bare chest as his hand came up to wrap around your throat just as it had earlier.

You screamed, but another hand came up to cover your mouth, muffling any whimpers and noises you let out. Through your anger, you could not remember to think about how your dress was now thoroughly soaked through.

“Mmph . . . !”

His face tilted downwards despite your struggles, and his lips whispered into your ear, his breath fanning hot air against your skin that left you with a strange tingling sensation.

“You never stop complaining, do you? You want to know why I left? Without explaining? Has it ever occured to you that, maybe I wanted you to truly hate me, after all, so the potential news of my death wouldn’t affect you? You make me out to be an animal, but even the gods know I’m not heartless.” You could practically hear his eye rolling. “C’mon, wifey, don’t you know, I’ve no need for another wife when I’ve already gotten my hands on a goddess right here. A goddess, that just so happens to be the world’s biggest bitch.”

You struggled against Sukuna, your legs kicking and splashing in the water as your nails clawed at tattooed biceps. “Mmph! Mmm—Mmph . . . !”

His left hand released your neck, but he didn’t let up on your mouth. “I only took the match because I was bored. Truly. Wanted to taste blood. But, what would you know about that? You’re an angel.” His voice was mocking, and dripped with malice. You shivered.

You gasped, desperate for air, when Sukuna finally removed his hand off your mouth, but your relief was short-lived when he tore the fabric off your body in one swift tear.

“What?” he asked, jeeringly, when you looked at him in confusion. “We’re already in the baths, might as well undress, too.”

The water was only up to your belly button, and a shiver ran up your spine from the low temperatures of the room. Sukuna, however, was like a walking, talking bonfire; he literally emitted heat.

Your nipples hardened from the air, and you squirmed around on Sukuna’s lap, growing uncomfortable. “You . . .”

“What’s the matter, honey?” He feigned concern, cooing. “Feeling pity? Gonna admit your mistakes?”

“I—”

He cut you off. “Let your body do the talking, and maybe I’ll find the heart to forgive you.”

Sukuna’s hands trailed down to your chest as he spoke, cold fingers going up to grope and pinch and tweak at your hardened nipples with each syllable he uttered. It sent a shock through your body, and you bit your hand to keep quiet.

“O-Oh, my . . . Nngh . . .” You mewled and twitched uncontrollably.

You didn’t know how much you loved the feeling of Sukuna’s hands fondling the mounds of your tits until you met your husband, and even then, he reminded you almost every day.

“Yeah? Does that feel good?” he asked, voice full of sarcasm. “What I fuckin’ thought, you whore. So needy and bitchy, all for some dick, aren’t you.”

Sukuna continued his assault on your buds, pulling and tugging at your nipples like it was child’s play. You arched your back at the stimulating sensation, your core growing warm from his fingers alone as you continued to attempt suppressing your noise with a fist in your mouth.

“Hahh, I—Sukuna . . . Mmph! you . . . You bastard.”

You pressed your naked thighs together, your own hand flying in-between to apply pressure to your clit; your orgasm soon hit you like a chariot. The friction newly added was more than enough to finally throw you over the edge as you came from solely Sukuna playing with your tits, groping and squeezing like they were mere toys.

“Fuck, wifey. Making a mess from only my hands? Maybe I have been depriving you.”

Your release dripped all over your hands, and Sukuna brought your fingers to his mouth, sucking the juices off like wine. His lips made squelching noises around the bodily fluids, and you couldn’t help the moan that left you as you felt the warm wetness of the sensation.

“Sukuna . . .” you whined, eyes growing teary with need.

“I’ll give it to you soon enough, princess. Quit your nagging,” was the reply that came, whilst Sukuna refused to let go of your fingers, even going as far as biting on them, leaving a clearly indented mark of his teeth on the skin, before finally releasing your hand from his grasp, and wiping his mouth clean of your slick.

Sukuna’s muscles were toned, abs flexing, and skin tanned from the ever-so cruel sun that shone down on the people of the empire. Even if his hold on you was gentle, his distribution of strength was enough to make it seem otherwise. That was made quite clear when he decided to abruptly cut your bliss short by lifting up your thighs by the backs of your knees, pinning them to position by your ears.

Legs spread, pussy weeping, back arched; you looked a mess. If that wasn’t humiliating enough, your hair was disheveled, body marked up with teeth marks from previous nights, and you could do nothing but claw and scratch at Sukuna’s arms. But, hot mess aside, (or not), you looked nothing short of a damn feast in Sukuna’s eyes.

Whimpering, mewling, and crying out, your ass was sat on Sukuna’s bare lap and the only thing running through your mind was your insatiable lust for being ruined by the brute you called your husband.

True to his word, Sukuna lifted your ass up with ease, before bringing you back down, practically smashing you onto his cock with one rough thrust. His tip pierced your cervix without fail, kissing all your sweet spots like habit.

It had been seven days. Seven, fucking, days without this man. And the first thing he did was fuck you like he meant to break you.

All the wind was knocked out of your throat as he continued to mercilessly slam his hips up into yours, bouncing you up and down without abandon whilst he kept your legs spread in the air.

The two of you had never tried this position before, but, gods, were you thankful for having done so. From this angle Sukuna’s cock reached areas deeper within your cunt than ever before, and with your thighs separated, it was significantly easier for Sukuna to fully bottom out before thrusting his entire length and girth back in, fucking you through the tears that fell and the sobs that left your lips from the constant thrusts, and bounces, and the frequent feeling of his hips pistoning against yours.

“Awh, don’t tell me my sweet wife is crying.”

You nodded weakly, hiccuping, completely delirious.

“Shame. Your tears will only make it worse,” he said, darkly, wetting your skin even further as he licked a stripe up your cheek, ridding you of the tears that fell from your eyes.

Throughout all of Sukuna’s rough fucking, you came multiple times, his cock filling you with warm seed up to the brim. Eyes rolling into the back of your head, thighs shaking, pussy squirting all over, and lips quivering; but not once, never in any of those times, did he stop for you to catch your breath and regain your composure. He fucked you through every orgasm and continued to the next and the next.

Water splashed all around your naked bodies, and you couldn’t tell if you were more wet from the pounding of Sukuna’s cock, or from the pool you two were currently in.

Your skin was warm, wet, and glistening with sweat.

Behind you, you could hear Sukuna’s jagged breathing and, every so often, his grunts. The man wasn’t a very vocal one, but he never tried hiding his moans and groans, per se. He had no shame in whining in your ear from how tight your walls clenched down on his cock, and definitely wasn’t afraid of whimpering from the feeling of your ass grinding down on his chest, your slick dribbling down his naked abdomen.

“Ahh . . . ! Ahh—Nnghh . . . !”

“Mmm . . . unghh . . .”

“Hahh, o-ohh . . . !”

Sounds of cries and plap, plap, plaps! filled the bathing quarters, and your cheeks warmed from the embarrassingly lewd noises the two of you made. That, and the feeling of veins on Sukuna’s cock twitching and sliding up and down and in and out of your weeping cunt had your eyes rolling backwards and your toes curling with the coming of an orgasm.

“Now, hahh, you gonna tell me why there was a man in my estate?” Sukuna managed to ask you, whilst he kept his cock ramming your poor, used pussy, lips of which were puffy and erect with need.

“W-What? Why are you—”

“Asking that?” he cut you off, finishing your sentence. “Dunno, maybe because my wife was home-fucking-alone with the dirty bastard.”

His cock twitched inside of you, and you clawed at Sukuna’s biceps as he spoke. It seemed that, with every second the two of you spent speaking about the man who was in your home, Sukuna grew more and more frustrated, his thrusts turning out clumsy and sloppy and rough.

“I . . . I t-told you already, Sukuna,” you whined, stuttering from his thrusts. “He was just keeping me company, I . . . unghh, swear.”

“Only keeping you company?”

You nodded profusely, your voice growing weak from Sukuna’s cock repeatedly hitting your sweet spot. “S-Swear. Hahh, I . . . ahh . . . mmph! I swear—I swear.”

“Yeah? You swear?”

“M-Mhmm . . . Gods, please, Sukuna, o-ohh! gods, I need to cum. I need to cum!”

“Why not, go on, then. Cum all you want on your husband’s cock. Yeahh, atta girl. Shit, you’re fucking milking me dry, aren’t you. Want my seed so bad, don’t you? Want me to fuck my kid into you?”

You mewled, music to Sukuna’s ears as every last drop of cum fell from your cunt, coating his dick with your fluids whilst the two of you rode out your highs. Your walls were painted white with Sukuna’s seed, filling you to the hilt as he kept his cock buried in your warm, wet cunt. Yeah, this one would surely take—Sukuna would make sure of that.

After all, this was bound to happen.

#sukuna x reader #sukuna ryomen x reader #sukuna x y/n #sukuna x you #jjk x reader #jjk smut #ryomen x reader #jjk x you

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frequentlybald · 3 days ago

Text

💍

Crystal Clear

mdni <3, suggestive, friends to lovers, slow burn, etc

It goes without saying that Suguru is one hundred percent a fuckboy. He has a new girl every other week, rarely choosing to stick to one partner after the second or third time they've fucked around. It's pointless. Suguru gets what he needs for a little bit and when he gets bored he moves on to someone else, simple. So of course when he gets paired with this cute number for his final project for the semester, he decides he has to have her. You're just the cutest thing, wide eyed and expressive.

Except...after the first two meetups you show no interest, seemingly ignorant to his advances, happy to work on the project and talk about anything. There's clearly more to you than your exterior; He sees it in the way you choose your words carefully around him, an emotion he can't place hidden somewhere deep in your soul, and your eyes too expressive for him not to notice. Naturally Suguru just has to find out if you're as interesting as he hopes you are.

It's not until after you've met up twice a week for two months that Suguru realizes you've somehow become...friends.

Of course it happened gradually, after the third time you'd met up and he had (very smoothly if he must say) gotten you to accept an invite to "do some research" at the house he shared with satoru. Satoru ended up barging in in the midst of your studying, boisterous as always and invited you out with their friend group for the weekend.

You naturally accepted, keen to get closer to your new friend and let loose for the weekend after working your ass off as usual. Who wouldn't be?

Suguru of course, leaps at the opportunity to get you as inebriated as possible. Just who were you under that carefully crafted exterior you liked to wear? and so, he makes a childish bet with you under the guise of "seeing if you can get down with the big dawgs" and you in your pride had not turned down the challenge.

You barely remember the night, but you know it ended with all of his friend's numbers in your phone and you and Suguru feeling closer to one another.

Funnily enough, somehow Suguru had forgotten his original intentions with you since that night, filling his appetite with other easier ladies. Yet he had found himself content to hang out with you, even if it was just chilling out at his and doing absolutely nothing. It's just as he's noticing how much your presence comforts him and he values your friendship that he remembers...in the middle of you talking about a guy you had hooked up with. "-and he was just so loud! like you would've thought he was dying or something...which is crazy because, like, hellooo we're in a dorm that you share? at least have some respect for the other people who live here! and that's another thing, did i mention that his roommate asked-"

"-you out right after? yes. i think that's the third time now," thank God for Shoko, cutting your ramblings off with a teasing grin. She leans back against the patio couch, cigarette hanging limply from her mouth, scent of tobacco in the air. "just tell me, how was it out of ten?" she drawls Suguru, not so discreetly listening in from his spot leaning against the banister, turns his head to face you for the first time since the conversation started, eyes keenly watching your facial expression when you roll your eyes up to think, pursing your lips. The cool spring air blows the outdoor curtains inward, the leaves blowing a comforting background to friendly conversations. "eh, 'bout a five i guess? about the same," you reply after a beat, shrugging and taking a long swig of your drink. Suguru absently follows suit, his buzz starting to blur between drunk and not quite there. It's not until Shoko speaks up again that he realizes the implications of what you'd said. "the same as what?" she leans forward, discreetly cutting her eyes to gauge Suguru's reaction, a subtle raising of her brows at him making him squint his eyes at her, to which she flips him off. He knew he shouldn't have told her about you when you first met. shit.

"um, as..always?" you wipe your mouth after you've finished gulping down the rest of your beverage, blinking slowly as you set the can on the table. "i dunno, like the same as everyone else s'been, y'know?" your words feel like honey in your mouth, licking your lips when you look back to Shoko, her eyes intense and calculating. "you mean to tell me, of all the people you've had sex with, you rate every single one of them a five?" Shoko's disbelief is evident in her tone, a slight slur in her words form her own inebriated state.

Suguru scoffs, you wouldn't have that problem if you were with him.

wait, what?

Shoko laughs incredulously when you respond with a drunken "well, there've been some zeros", a thoughtful pout on your lips.

When you lean your head back against your chair, Shoko looks at Suguru fiercely and he bristles, walking over to pick up the discarded bottles and cans from the table. "that's just wrong," he shakes his head, taking the trash inside, your drunken giggle following him as he leaves.

five out of ten? every time? just what kind of guys were you letting fuck you? he could have you shaking before he even pulled his dick out, couldn’t you see that? why hadn’t you come to him?

he's just finished sorting the recyclables when he hears you and shoko walk into the house, closing the sliding door behind you and sprawling on the couch together. "it's not even that i don't find sex enjoyable, it's just like, a lot of work. and clearly i don't trust these dudes -which, yes, is a deeper issue all on its own- but it's not like i'm bagging sex gods or anything either, y'know..." you trail off for a moment, and Suguru walks in to see the two of you cuddled up on the couch, you laying on Shoko's chest. "ugh! i should just go for a girl.." you mumble, Shoko's boisterous laugh jostling the two of you, looking over your head to wiggle her brows at Suguru as if to say 'mma steal yo girl'. Suguru rolls his eyes, cocking his hip. You suddenly look up from Shoko's chest, a pout on your pretty lips as you look up at him. "Suguruuu, lemme stay over, i'm too drunk." you whine, looking up at him through your lashes. He hums, cocking a brow unimpressed. "what's the magic word?" hand to his ear as if he couldn't hear. you jump from your perch on top of Shoko, pushing off of her stomach and ignorant to the "oof" she groans out, stumbling over to Suguru, you crane your neck to look at him, hands together pleadingly. "pretty please? oh benevolent and kind soul would you please allow me to stay over?" you beg dramatically. from this angle, this close, Suguru can make note of the flush on your cheeks, pretty lips pouting as you beg. your brows upturned prettily and eyes glassy from the haze of alcohol. he can almost imagine you exactly like this on your knees in front of him, begging him to fuck your throat with his cock until you're crying for real. He feels his cock give a weak twitch in his pants, the alcohol swimming in his blood preventing the heat coiling in his stomach from having too much of an effect on him.

Suguru blinks rapidly to clear the image from his mind, clearing his throat and smiling sharply down at you, apples of his cheeks turning his eyes to crescents. "you may, insisgnificant peon." Your loud whoop makes him wince, though the expression easily melts from his face when you're throwing your hands in the air and wrapping them around his body, his large arms dwarfing your figure.

---

An hour later finds you and Suguru cleaning up the remnants of your little get together, Shoko having just left to her own place. Him washing the dishes and you drying. You'd made it your mission to focus on your task diligently, lest you look down at how his forearms flex, the veins of his hands popping under the translucent soap suds that stick to him.

You're still pleasantly buzzed from earlier, swaying to the soft music playing from the television and humming along to the tune. You've just finished with the plate in your hand when you turn back to Suguru for the next, not noticing that he'd already finished and turned the sink off, dark eyes watching you intently. "what. is there something on my face?" you ask absently, drying your hands on the towel and turning to hang it over its hook. You look back to Suguru when you see the motion of his head shaking from your peripheral. "you okay? what're you all quiet for?" your brows furrow in concern, stepping closer to place a hand on his arm comfortingly. He's quiet, eyes flicking over your face in a moment that seems to drag on forever, an emotion you can't place starts to unfurl in your chest and you nibble at the inside of your lip nervously. "s'nothin, you need some clothes to sleep in?" he finally murmurs, tucking a tuft of his bangs behind his ear. He steps to the side of you, walking past to the direction of his room. You follow behind, replaying the moment over in your head before brushing it off, "yes, please." standing in the doorway of his bedroom as he gathers a tee shirt and some large pants for you to sleep in. you take advantage of the fact that he can't quite see you from where he's reaching into his closet, watching closely at how his hair cascades over his back, inky black looking so soft to the touch. he turns back just as your eyes trail over the side profile of his face, only having a moment to admire the slope of his nose and the way his pillowy lips-

"here, you can change in here." he says softly, pushing the fabrics into your arms and touching your arm as he grazes passed you to exit the room, closing the door with a soft click.

once you've finished changing and used some of his mouthwash, you step out of the room, walking over to where he sits on the plush couch, already with blanket and pillow set out. he glances up from his phone, smiling softly. "ready for bed? you can take my room after i finish changing yeah?" he stands, but before he can walk past you, you grab his arm gently, "you don't have to do that Sug, i'll be fine on the couch." you argue, breath hitching when he presses into your space, large hands coming up to rub your shoulders soothingly. "of course not, i'll take the couch, and you take my bed." he tries in a tone that implies he won't take no for an answer. but, you're stubborn and a little drunk, so naturally you put up a fight.

"no way, dude. it's your bed and i like the couch," your brow ticks in annoyance, looking up at him with a small pout and scowl, almost faltering at the way his eyes seem to darken at your back talk, but standing your ground nonetheless. there's a tense moment of silence, the two of you engaged in a heated staring contest when the corner of his mouth twitches and he steps back from your space with scoff. without another word, he walks into his room and shuts the door, and you smile in triumph before slipping under the blanket on the couch and getting comfortable. your eyes flick up at the sound of his bedroom door clicking open, him now having changed into his sleeping clothes, hair taken down from his ponytail. you watch from your bundle on the couch as he stalks over to you slowly, coming around the couch to stand over you. leaning back to look up at him, you only have a moment to open your mouth to speak when the blanket is ripped from your body, a screech leaving your throat when you're tugged up off of the couch and thrown over his shoulder. "Suguru what the fuck! put me down you scoundrel," you slap at his back and kick your legs, attempting to squirm from atop his shoulder when you're thrown unceremoniously onto his bed, landing with an "oof". you sit up angrily, ready to give him a piece of your mind when a large hand shoves at your shoulder, effectively pinning you to the bed. you look up to see Suture kneeling above you, his long hair hanging like curtains over your face, some long strands tickling your neck. his hand is hot through your borrowed shirt, pressing his weight against you to keep you down. he speaks clearly, minty fresh breath fanning over your face when he leans in close "you. sleep on. the bed. got it?" he looks down through the curtain of his hair, eyes dark and jaw clenched. your mouth hangs open in shock, swallowing hard at the way his eyes bore into your own, hard as steel.

"alright then," you breathe, feeling your face warm at the slight growl that had creeped into his voice, and if it weren't for the heavy hand on your shoulder the look in his eyes would've frozen you in place. he smiles softly, sitting back and taking his hand off of you, getting off the bed and walking towards the bedroom door. "goodnight." he says over his shoulder, closing the door behind him with a soft click.

after a stunned beat, you crawl beneath the covers, the scent of Suguru permeating your senses as you snuggle into his pillow. you replay the moment in your head, thinking back to how his voice had sounded when he commanded you to do as he asked, the look in his eyes sending a thrill up your spine, heat once again coiling in the pit of your stomach. you whisper into the dark room, gripping the comforter tightly.

"what the fuck."

—��———————

to be continued :3

#geto suguru #jjk fanfiction #jujutsu kaisen #geto suguru x reader #jujutsu kaisen x reader #geto suguru x you #yea that's that stuff right thurr #this mf haunts me istg #my husband #Spotify

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frequentlybald · 4 days ago

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Leon my beloved…

POLAROID LOVER:: (leon kennedy)

WARNING:: naked pictures, pictures during sex, smoking (weed) kissing, riding, unprotected sex, teasing, friends to lovers, stoner! Leon!

SUMMARY:: summer is the season for memories. What better way to make memories than to lay in bed and have a photoshoot high with your best friend

Music played as both you and Leon laid on his bed, the smell of weed taking over your senses as this was the third blunt in an hour you both had smoked. Your eyes were low and glossed over, you let the burning blunt sit between your lips and inhale the strong smoke.

You felt your lungs burning as you held in the smoke. Handing it off to the boy who was equally as high next to you seeing him stare at the ceiling as he hits the blunt as well.

Digging through the box the sound of rumbling could be heard over the music, feeling for the familiar pair of glasses and camera. He clutched them both in his grasp and pulled them from under the rest of the junk he found with a lazy grin.

Leon had the bright idea that came to his fryed out mind "lay down I wanna take pictures of you" he says as his hand gently pushes down on your midriff, you lean back until you're in the position that he was once in before he was sitting on his knees as they dig into the mattress, moving his legs to straddle over your stomach.

Your shirt riding up your stomach caught the eye of Leon who had a small smile on his lips, his brain practically short circuits as his large hand pushes your shirt up over your chest revealing your pace bra with a bow sewn into the middle.

Your eyes widen in shock at the feeling of his cold hands on your warm skin "what are you doing?" You ask shyly, seeing the boy above you with hungry eyes "pose for the camera" he mumbled lifting the camera above you. You smile covering your eyes with your arm slightly embarrassed that your friend was taking a picture of you in your bra.

Waving it around you open your eyes to look at the dirty blonde haired man who had still been towering above you. His eyes darken as he looked down on you with your sweet e/c doe eyes looking back up at him like a deer in headlights and he loved every single second of it.

Dropping the camera on the matress his hands pull your shirt over your head and tossing it into the carpeted floor. "Leon" you say just above a whisper at how bold the boy had become. "Pose" he whispered back picking up the camera, the tension in the air becoming thicker by the moment.

Pushing yourself on your forearms you look up at the lens your eyes drain from the bright flash, again the camera spits out the picture. Pulling it out this time Leon didn't look at the picture he put the camera down and took his own shirt off laying next to you with a smile on his face.

You felt your body flush as your shoulders rub against each other. Lifting the camera above both of your faces Leon looked over at you who had already been looking at him. Your eyes are red and glossy as your eyelashes cast a shadow on your cheeks.

Holding eye contact for what felt like forever his eyes flicker down to your lips then back into your eyes. He didn't move any further making you almost let a whine ripple through your throat at how needy you felt to have his lips on yours.

Moving in closer, your eyes leave his and fall to his plump lips, you feel the tip of his nose brush against yours, even the smallest touch makes your stomach churn with butterflies. Giving him one last look your eyes flutter closed as you close the little distance between you and the feeling of his soft lips on yours was all that surged through your mind.

Sucking in a breath through your nose your hand falls to the back of his neck pulling him in deeper making the kiss more needy and lust filled. Progressively speeding up your teeth clash against each other as the smell of his cologne takes over your senses.

Letting out a small groan Leon's hand makes way to the belt loop of your jeans, hooking two fingers inside and pulling your hips closer against his. Your bra covered chest pushes against his naked one while your hand finds his hair, entangling your fingers and shamelessly moaning into his mouth.

His tongue now licking a stripe on your bottom lip begging for access, parting your lips, his tongue immediately brushed against yours, mixing your saliva. As you suck on his tongue the remnants of weed and candy on his taste buds didn't bother you a bit.

The flash of the camera goes off making you pull away with hesitation written all over your face, Leon pulling back to see the picture develop and show up with a frame of you and him swapping saliva and shoving your tongues down each other's throats.

You could see the tent in his jeans starting to grow "I'm gonna hang these up all over my room" he mumbled content how they came out . His words make your thighs push together at the thought of Leon having such intimate pictures of you and him being seen by your friends in his room.

But you aren't as slick as you hoped to be. Leon caught the way your knees and thighs pushed together at his words making the small boyish grin on his lips turn into a smirk.

Looking back over at you both still high, Leon couldn't help but ask "you wanna keep going?" You could pounce on the boy at any moment seeing as his hair was now messy, his lips now swollen with your lipgloss smeared on them, and his labored breathing making his chest rise and fall more noticeably.

You nod your head looking him in his deep blue flamed eyes with adoration and lust "I want you to fuck me" you say loud enough for him but just above a whisper in the silent room.

Your words make Leon twitch in his boxers. Letting out a groan his head falls back "you're gonna fucking kill me" he said as his cock aches within the confinements of his tight boxers and pants.

The way you looked at him was like you were begging for him to just fuck you dumb on his cock. So when he gripped your chin pushing your head back, you could feel his lips on your neck, aimlessly sucking hickeys on your neck leaving purple and red splotches on your supple skin.

You let out small moans at the feeling of his teeth brushing against your sensitive spot that makes you shiver and your hand entangle in his messy dirty blonde locks. His thumb rubbing against your bottom lip, you open your mouth letting the harsh pad of his thumb press against your tongue.

Sucking on his thumb Leon groaned as the feeling of your warm mouth engulfing his finger, he couldn't help but imagine how good you would look with his cock on your tongue instead of his thumb. Kissing a trail down your neck to your chest.

Your body is covered in goosebumps at the feeling of his warm tongue licking at your cold skin. His hand finds itself behind your back unclipping your bra letting it slip off your shoulders revealing your bare chest and hard nipples.

Licking a stripe on one of your nipples you roll your hips at the feeling. But as soon as he pulled away you whine, "sit on my lap" he says in a low tone.

Catching a glimpse of the look on his face as the both of you shift until Leon's back presses against the headboard. Pulling his jeans down and tossing them on the floor he looks up expectantly waiting for you to pull yours off as well.

Understanding without saying a word you pull them off discarding them with his as well. Leaving you in your panties that were sticking to you with a small wet patch seeping through the thin fabric.

Crawling into his lap you press your ass down on his bulge with no regard earning you a choked moan. You could feel as if your pussy practically stuck to the wet fabric of your panties while you grind your hips against him.

The small wet watch of precum becomes larger as your panties make friction soaking his underwear as well. The outline of his cock rubbing against your clit makes your head spin and you couldn't help but moan and grind harder against him.

"You feel so good" you whimper hearing the sticky sounds of your slick thighs rubbing together, it was messy yet the both of you were too eager chasing some form of an orgasm to care what kind of mess you make.

Your hand moves around the mattress to find the camera as you look down at Leon whose head was thrown back while he lets out the deepest groans of pleasure. His hands guiding your hips against his at a faster pace makes you choke out louder moans.

"Fuck" he whispered harshly as you finally find the camera and holding the camera up you place your eye close to the view finder as you point the lens at a dazed Leon who was on cloud 9.

Pressing down on the shutter button the flash finally goes off making Leon open his eyes and look up at you, "you looked too good" you whisper placing one of your hands down on his lower abdomen as you feel Leon buck his hips into you faster.

The feeling of the fabric running against your pussy slightly burned but it felt too good to care. "Feels so good" he grumbled as the pressure began to build. The both of you chasing your orgasms push your panties to the side rubbing your bare pussy against the fabric of his boxers at a fast pace that makes you whine.

You gasp feeling yourself being sent over the edge, Leon begins to slow down but you only shake your head as you anticipate him reaching his peak. "Please keep going, I want you to cum" you moan as your nails drag against his skin leaving behind a trail of red marks.

Your needy words make his eyes roll back as he pushes your hips down, he ruts into you as he moans shamelessly. Leon had no idea if it was just the weed or if your pussy had fucking magic but your sweet moans and the sloppy sounds send him into a spiral of pleasure.

His cum seeps through his boxers as his hips twitch in a bit of overstimulation he didn't care, his hips slow down and then stop completely as he feels himself slowly coming back down to earth.

He lets out a large huff as a shy smile finds its way on his face, he can't believe he just came in his boxers after literally letting you dry hump him like a needy puppy. His hands grip at the flesh of your ass he lets out a small chuckle with a smirk on his lips.

"You're driving me crazy- fuck" he groaned as he continues to catch his breath. You giggle at him still feeling your mind trying to process. Who would've thought getting high off of 3 blunts and having sex would feel this good.

Pushing you off his thighs Leon gently pushes you down into the sheets pulling your panties down and sliding them off your ankle he discards them. The view of your pussy practically shining in all its wet glory. Leon was desperate. To touch, taste and fill you up in so many ways he couldn't even think straight.

His hands unclip your bra watching your breasts spill out of the fabric and padding. Discarding it his hands palm your chest as leans down to lick your sensitive nipples making you let out a small moan.

Nobody had ever made you feel so good just by barely touching. Until Leon had decided to drag his face down your stomach, littering small kisses on your sweet supple skin until he stopped at the place you needed him most.

Kissing down your inner thigh sucking hickeys into your skin you shiver at the feeling of his warm tongue giving your puffy lips a small lick. Whispering a curse under his breath he licks again this time he is much more confident.

he holds your thighs when the pleasure starts seizing your limbs, as the feeling of his warm tongue licking from your hole to your clit and sucking needly. You moan as your hand reaches for the back of his head pushing him against your pussy.

Groaning against you sent vibrations all over as you let out a small giggle that broke into a moan feeling the harsh pad of his thumb rub against your clit while his tongue worked to push inside you.

The sounds you make are music to his ears. He presses his nose on your clit, inhaling your scent deeply before his tongue dives inside your waiting pussy. You pull onto his hair, writhing against his face. "Feels so good Leon" you moan as you roll your hips against his face.

You could feel his lips curve against your pussy sending shivers down your spine. The wet muscle repetitively enters you, eager to gather your nectar. It feels like heaven, stomach tightening with each second.

Pulling away his thumb Leon flattens his tongue against you licking from your entrance to your clit again, kissing it he sucks harshly on the bud with no regard as you moan his name mindlessly.

"Oh fuck" you manage to whimper out you tug at his hair as he groaned, your eyes shut as you "please use your fingers" you moan neediness dripping from your tone.

His hand moving from your plush thigh, his thumb rubbing harsh circles on your clit he pulled away licking your clit once more his middle and ring fingers make way to your entrance.

Pushing in slowly you groan at the penetration, easing your tight walls around his thick fingers as he pushes them deeper you feel the cool metal on his rings all the way at the knuckles of his fingers as it grounds you from the euphoric feeling.

Pulling his head he looks up at you with your juices on his swollen lips and on his chin his fingers begin to move, opening your eyes. You look down at him feeling his gaze as he watches you react gasping as the feeling you grind down against his fingers "you like that? Hm?" He says as he licks your essence off of his lips.

His hair now disheveled as his cheeks were blooming with a soft blush, you nod eagerly "yeah? You want me to go faster for you?" He coos feeling you clench around him at the sound of his lewd words, you clench harder "yes please" you say losing your mind on his fingers as you absentmindedly grind down on them.

Without a single falter in his movements his fingers began to rub against the gummy part of your walls at a faster rate as the sound of your sopping pussy getting pounded by his fingers made you squeal.

"Feels so good Leon" you cry out hoping to god he wouldn't stop the rewarding pace he had set. Your hips involuntarily buck against his fingers as his assault of pleasure on your pussy consumed you whole.

"I'm close" you whine as the sloshing sound and the sound of you and Leon's mixed heavy breathing had been the only thing you could hear "yeah, you gonna cum all over my fingers?" He asks teasingly as his tongue licks a long stripe against your clit that has the feeling in the pit of your stomach churning in anticipation for your orgasm.

"Yes, wanna cum just for you" you whine under your breath as he pushes and pulls his fingers in and out of you faster watching you come closer and closer to the edge waiting for him to catch you. He sucks and licks your clit harshly making you let out a loud moan as you cum all over his fingers.

"So good" he hummed as he fucks you through your high slowing down as he kisses your clit that's now sensitive making you writhed under him. "Doing so good for me" he giggled as he pulled away from you kissing your thighs as if he was rewarding you.

You let out a small giggle that turned into a choked moan when his long fingers pulled out of you. With no hesitation he sucked on his fingers licking off any essence and cum you had left on his digits.

Pulling them away he leans in to kiss you letting his tongue brush over yours to taste yourself. The smell of weed and whatever sweet smelling cologne he had on sent you into a spiral of neediness. "Want' you to fuck me so bad" you mumble against his lips.

"I got you don't worry" he says reassuringly, pulling off his cum stained boxers he let out a sigh of relief, his hard cock twitching and blushing a soft red at his tip he couldn't help but wrap his hand around his length and jerk himself off at the beautiful sight that was you naked in his bed looking up at his with round red eyes.

He moves your legs open wider as he takes his rightful place in between them once again. Watching the tip of his cock rub up and down your slit as your hips twitch in sensitivity. His cock glistening from a mixture of precum and your slick he presses the head of his cock at your entrance slowly pushing inside you enjoying the warm and tight feeling inside you.

His hands move to either side of your head as he looks down on you with complete adoration in his eyes. Pushing deeper inside you he lets out a moan "fuck you feel so good" he says as he catches his bottom lip in between his teeth.

"You're so big" you slur seeing how good he filled you up to the brim your arms wrap around his neck your foreheads pressed together as you watch him begin to slowly move. Leon couldn't get enough of the sight as his cock disappeared inside your Pussy.

His cock buried deep inside you that you moan and dig crescent shaped dents into his skin. set a pace for bouncing in his lap. The feeling of your velvety walls tightening around making him choke back a moan.

"Oh- god" you whisper shakily. His hands holding onto your hips guiding a pace, the soft sound of skin slapping with your small moans could be heard throughout the room.

You looked so good with your chest bouncing and your hair all messy. You looked good with a small sheen of sweat on your skin and your makeup smeared, he was addicted to the sight.

Leon; eager to let his load off inside you, holds your thighs stopping you from bouncing any longer and begins to thrust his hips into you. The feeling of his tip pushing at your cervix.

His hips piston into you as your thighs and ass jiggle at the repetitive thrusts "right there!" You moan as you feel him pounding in a certain part of your walls. You tighten around him as your essence forms a white ring around the base of his dick.

"Just like that! I just want you to come inside me" you babble mindlessly as his stomach churns at the words spewing out.

"Yeah? Want me to fill you up with my cum?" he groans as the knot in your stomach begins to tighten and Leon's death grip on the fat of your thighs almost sends you over the edge if it wasn't for how hard he was pounding you.

You nod eagerly as you begin to alternate between grinding and bouncing, your nails drag against his back leaving behind a red and irritated trail- yet he didn't mind it as it pushed him closer to his orgasm.

Leaning down to him your moans against each other's lips push you closer and closer. Your back is arching as you move faster wanting to cum so badly "keep going. Don't stop" he groaned, letting his head fall back.

His hair messily pushed against his forehead as it was covered in sweat and his eyes rolled back "god I'm gonna cum" he said breathily "I want you to look at me when you cum okay?" Says opening his eyes looking up at you.

You nod as you let your moans fall past your lips, the sensation building more and more until it became to overwhelming you gasp "I'm gonna cum" you whine as your hips fall more hastily on him, his moans mixed with yours as he drowned in the feeling of your walls spasming around him pushing him completely over the edge.

"Fuck" he groaned as warm spurts of cum filled you, grinding down and letting the cum spill past your walls and down the base of his cock you hum as your content with your orgasm.

And just as fast as all of this began- it ended with you pulling off of Leon and laying down beside him, your chests both slowly riding and falling, you turn your head over to him with low red eyes, he meets your gaze "want me to re-light the blunt?" You ask with a smirk.

He nods, leaning over to kiss your lips he smiles against your lips as his hand reaches over to the bed side table that holds the ashtray his fingers pluck the blunt from out of the ash tray as well as grabbing the lighter he hands them off to you.

#leon kennedy smut #leon kennedy x reader #𖦹—(ifuckslasherz)#leon kennedy imagine #leon smut #leon kennedy #leon hard thoughts

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frequentlybald · 4 days ago

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This was so fantastic

Frosted Brushes

leon kennedy x fem!reader

summary: an ill-timed snowstorm leaves you snowed in with a less than enthusiastic federal agent.

cw: nsfw (18+) - mdni!!, smut, bestfriend's older brother!leon, kissing, oral sex, face-sitting, vaginal fingering, p in v, spanking, mild choking

wc: 5.5k

a/n: i know i promised blurred lines pt2 (it's coming) but i just loveee the snowed in trope. also leon's biceps - i love his biceps <3

also on ao3!

Getting snowed in wasn't exactly on your bucket list.

It’d been a mistake, your best friend had said, her voice anxious and apologetic on the phone as she’d tried to make up for the fact that she’d left you stranded here, in the middle of nowhere in a cabin that she had booked. You were only meant to stay here over the week of Christmas and fly back the next, but she’d conveniently forgotten to book tickets for both you and Leon. It’d been too late by then, a vicious snow storm rolling in and ruining all your chances of trying to leave.

You’d stared out the windows for a concerning amount of time, mourning the loss of your upcoming paychecks and not being able to sleep in your own bed. Outside, the snow was packed in tight and you’d been half-tempted to just grab the snow shovel and clear a path for yourself, but the howling wind coupled with the freezing temperature didn’t seem to agree with your plans. The only thing saving you from this woeful situation was the generator that was still up and running.

The federal agent currently lounging on the couch wasn’t helping either. You’d known Leon since you were children, mostly seeing him around the house when you’d come over to play with your best friend. He had kept to himself all those years ago, shooting you fleeting glances and berating you when you’d gotten too loud playing.

Boredom makes your temples throb and the thought of reading through another book makes you feel nauseous, so you settle on approaching Leon, flopping down on the other end with a heavy sigh.

“Hey,” you say, your feet nudging his thigh, “can’t you call up one of your buddies and have ‘em pick us up?”

“That’s not how it works,” Leon sighs, his eyes flitting down to stare irritatedly at your fluffy sock covered feet.

“What good is being a federal agent then?” you drawl, head tipping back over the armrest.

Leon rolls his eyes, shoving your feet away. You grumble, tucking your feet back under you before scooting forward to peer at whatever work on his laptop screen.

“Classified,” Leon says shortly, turning the screen away from you.

“Seriously, Leon?” you say, crossing your arms over your chest. “It’s not like I’m going to leak government secrets to a foreign enemy.”

“You might ,” Leon grits out, sending you a glare as you try to twist your body to take another look.

“Maybe I should be flattered that you think me capable of treason.”

Leon snorts, his eyes glancing over towards you again. “You wouldn’t last a day in the field, dork. Most likely end up getting yourself killed, or maybe even blown up.”

You glare at him, shifting again, making sure to dig your feet into his thigh a little harder as you roll over onto your side on the couch. Leon lets out a low hiss, growing irritated with your petulant behavior. He doesn’t shove your feet away like before so you settle on staying in that position, eyes slipping shut. A tiny sprig of hope unfurls inside of you; maybe if you tried hard enough, you’d be able to sleep the entire snowstorm away.

The weather doesn’t seem to let up, the wind howling outside, a chill beginning to creep into the cabin. You huff out an exasperated breath, eyes peeking open to sneak a glance at Leon. He looks engrossed in whatever he’s doing, fingers tapping against the keyboard, his brows drawn together.

Perhaps you’d struck out, getting stuck here with Leon. Sure, the federal agent stuff was mildly interesting, but he was more like a silent, grumpy lump. It sort of helped that he had a nice face, even if just to stare at.

“‘m cold,” you mumble, sock-clad toes trying to worm under his thighs, seeking out his warmth.

“Stop complaining,” Leon grouses, nudging your legs away with his hand.

“You’re so mean,” you shoot back, eyes narrowing. “Is it because you got stuck with a desk job?”

Leon glares at you, his touch growing rougher as he grabs your ankle and throws your leg away from him. A yelp escapes you, body bending awkwardly before you straighten yourself up, curling up away from him.

“I’m a field agent,” Leon hisses, snapping his laptop shut.

You shoot him an unimpressed look, eyes flitting over him. “I don’t see a gun.”

“Yeah and it’s a good thing I didn’t bring it, because I would shoot you if I had the chance.”

A sharp scoff leaves you, arms crossing over your chest as you stand up. “You’re such a piece of sh-”

A loud screeching noise cuts you off, your brows furrowing as you glance towards the direction the sound was coming from. It doesn’t take long to figure out what’s happened when the lights in the cabin go out after a moment, the interior lit up by the flickering embers of the hearth.

“Great,” Leon murmurs, standing up and walking towards the large windows, his eyes landing on the generator, “it’s probably frozen.”

You trail after him, a frown pulling at your lips as you stare out at the snowy tundra surrounding you in every direction.

“Is there no way to fix it?” you ask, fingers pressing up against the window.

“Maybe if we got rid of the snow,” Leon sighs, his hand running through his hair, “but the cold would probably just make it freeze up again.”

“Time to get shovelling,” you murmur, peering up at Leon.

Leon’s gaze flicks towards you, his lips thinning. “I’m not going out there.”

“What?” you ask snappily, irritation prickling across your skin, “why not?”

“Because I’ll freeze to death,” he retorts, “didn’t you watch the weather report?”

You stare at him, eye twitching at his refusal. At this rate, both of you would freeze to death if you weren’t able to get the generator up and running. You didn’t particularly trust the insulation either, although there was enough wood stocked in the spare room to maybe get you through the rest of the nights here.

“So what are you suggesting?” you ask, “that I go out and do it?”

“If you’re desperate enough,” he mutters under his breath.

“You’re the man!” you protest. “Shouldn’t you like protect me or something?”

Leon scoffs, his arms crossing over his chest as he stares down at you derisively. “You’re on your own, pipsqueak. Each man for themselves.”

“Oh, fuck you,” you snarl, stomping over to the door and yanking a jacket off of its hook. You shrug it on angrily, zipping it up tight before wrapping a scarf around your neck. “You’re pathetic, Leon!”

You grab the snow shovel, moving to open the door, only for it to not budge. There’s a moment of silence and you don’t dare look back at Leon. Setting the snow shovel down, you tug at the door handle, yanking hard.

“Please open,” you whisper, trying to wrench the door open, “please.”

By the time you’re done grumbling and yanking, the door’s only response is a pitiful groan, failing to give way at all, completely and utterly frozen shut.

“You’ve gotta be fucking kidding me,” you mutter, glancing at the hinges of the door.

“Frozen in,” Leon drawls, stepping up behind you, “who would’ve thought? You know, you looked pretty pathetic trying to open it up.”

You turn around to face him, biting the inside of your cheek to prevent yourself from spewing a slew of curses at him. Your best friend would pay dearly for this debacle. Pushing past Leon, you stride purposefully into the room you were staying in, pulling free the sheets before managing to haul the mattress off of the bed frame.

Leon watches with raised brows as you lug the mattress across the floor. You dump it onto the space just in front of the fireplace, brushing your hair out of your face before disappearing into your room again to gather the sheets and blankets.

“At least you’re resourceful?” Leon offers, following suit as he adds his mattress next to yours soon after.

The absence of heat becomes all the more apparent as the night creeps in, your body shivering and teeth chattering every now and then despite the layers you’re wearing. You and Leon settle on soup for dinner, placing the cans near the fireplace to heat them up.

“Maybe we’ll just freeze to death,” you sigh, tugging the blanket draped around your shoulders a little tighter.

Leon hums, glancing over at you. “Maybe.”

You roll your eyes at his short response, padding through the cabin and into the dark bathroom. No generator meant no lights and you weren’t willing to risk using your phone or the flashlights lest the battery ran out.

“Ouch,” you grumble when your hip hits the side of the sink, your eyes squinting in an attempt to adjust to the dark.

You’re too busy rubbing your hip to notice the dark shadow stepping into the bathroom. There’s an arm landing on your waist and you shriek, hand flying out to smack whoever it is.

“Careful,” Leon groans when he feels you grab at his face, feeling around blindly.

“What are you doing?” you hiss, pushing at his chest.

“Keeping you company,” he shoots back, “not like there’s anything for me to do other than stare at the fire.”

“Don’t tell me you’re scared,” you say, managing to turn the tap on. The water is entirely too cold, but thankfully not yet frozen. You hunch over, splashing some onto your face.

“Funny,” Leon replies drily, his hand slipping lower to hold your hip as you bend over.

Your breath hitches at the action and you hope Leon doesn’t notice, especially with the way you tremble when his hand smooths over your waist absentmindedly. Leon’s touching doesn’t seem to let up and you turn around in his arms, fingers prodding into his chest.

“Stop touching me, you creep.”

Leon lets out a heavy sigh, his hands falling away from you. You manage to bundle out of the bathroom, finding his eyes in the dim lighting. He stares down at you, and you tilt your head in question.

“Nothing,” he huffs out, shoving your face away with his hand.

You grumble, swatting his hand away, padding over to your makeshift bed near the fireplace. Despite the warmth of the fire, you still shiver, and snuggling in under the heap of blankets.

Leon’s footfalls are quiet as he makes his way over, settling down on his own mattress. Silence passes over you both until a sneeze tickles at your nose, making your eyes water.

“Are you still cold?” Leon asks quietly.

“Nothing I can’t handle,” you mumble back, curling up your toes in your socks, trying to bury yourself deeper under the blankets.

You miss the way Leon rolls his eyes, a squeak leaving you when you feel strong arms looping around your waist, tugging you across onto Leon’s mattress. His chest is warm against your back, the layers of blankets growing with the two of you now pressed together.

“Let- let go of me,” you grouse, trying to unlatch his arms from around you.

“No can do, pipsqueak,” he replies, keeping you close, “my sister will kill me if anything happens to you. Besides, I know you gotta little thing for me.”

“I do not have a thing for you,” you scoff, your denial sharp. You squirm in his arms, managing to roll onto your other side to face him. “That would be gross, Leon.”

“Yeah?” Leon murmurs, his eyes drifting across your face, “you didn’t think it was gross when you told my sister you’d like to sit on my face.”

You sputter, embarrassment making your cheeks go hot. Suddenly, the chill of the snowstorm seems to fade, replaced by a heat that seems unbearable, Leon’s skin warm against yours.

“I- I did not say that!” you protest, trying to squirm out of his arms again but to no avail.

“I overheard you,” he sighs, rolling his eyes when you try to swat at his face.

“Well, fine,” you admit begrudgingly, stopping your struggling. “But you aren’t special . I could name five other guys off the top of my head that I’d enjoy.”

“Ouch,” Leon replies, his eyes boring into yours. “‘m wounded, pipsqueak.”

You send him a glare before snuggling closer, your face shoving into his chest. Leon lets out a rough laugh, his grip on you loosening. Silence passes over you and the warmth settles down to something more cozy, making your eyes droop shut.

“Could be fun.”

“What?” you mumble sleepily.

“Could be fun if you sat on my face.”

You peek up at him, taken aback. “Have you lost your mind, Leon?”

His lips purse as he considers your words, shrugging his shoulders lazily. “Gotta kill the time somehow,” he yawns.

“‘m not sleeping with you, jerk,” you reply, trying to ignore the fact that Leon, grumpy federal agent Leon , was offering to eat you out.

He sighs, muttering something incoherent that you can barely pick up on. It doesn’t help that Leon’s managed to ruin your sleep, the image of Leon’s head between your thighs popping into your mind. Could be fun .

Leon’s already staring at you when you look back up at him, his brows raising when you play with the strings of his hoodie, twirling and twisting them.

“Do you want to?” you ask.

He considers your words, running his hand through his hair. “I could use the practice. It’s been a while.”

“I’m not a training dummy, Leon,” you retort, but Leon’s already moving, the blankets around you shifting as he pulls them off, grabbing at your sock and pajama pants. “You said it could be fun .”

“Practice can be fun,” he replies drily, pulling your pajama pants off.

You shiver when the cold hits your skin, goosebumps erupting all over immediately. Leon’s hands are warm when he slides them over your legs, his head lowering to take a look at your panties.

“Cute,” Leon murmurs, finger pulling at the band before letting the fabric snap back against your skin.

“H- hey!” you stop him when he tries to pull them off, eyes narrowing. “You should build up to it, not just go right in.”

Leon rolls his eyes and you huff out an annoyed breath, feet pressing up against his chest.

“C’mon, Leon,” you say, voice morphing into a taunt, “work for it.”

“You always like this?” he shoots back, glaring down at you.

You give him a snarky smile, nudging your feet against his chest again. Leon shakes his head, grabbing one of your feet. You watch as he dips his head, his lips landing on your ankle. Leon’s lips are surprisingly gentle, his eyes flitting to yours as he trails his lips up your leg, leaving hot kisses in his wake.

A soft sigh escapes you, the tenseness fading as you relax, letting your eyes slide shut as he squeezes your thighs and kisses the side of your knee.

“Good?” he asks, his voice low.

“Mhm,” you nod, hips reacting to his ministrations as he spreads you apart.

Leon’s breath is hot against your skin, his tongue darting out to lick teasingly as he covers your inner thighs with kisses. You peer down at him, reaching out to place your hand in his hair, back arching slightly when he noses into your panties.

You bite your lip when he licks over your panties, feeling wetness beginning to gather between your thighs. His eyes flutter shut when your nails scratch at his scalp lightly, lapping at your clothed pussy until the fabric is wet with his spit and your slick, clinging to your folds.

“That’s cute,” you murmur, “thought this was just practice?”

He huffs out a breath and you smile, letting him lap at your clothed cunt until he’s satisfied. Leon kisses your hip when he rises up, fingers trailing across your thighs before drifting over your panties again, rubbing the drenched material absentmindedly.

“‘s nice,” he murmurs, reaching up to tug your panties flush against your pussy, his eyes latched onto the way it outlines your puffy folds. Leon’s fingers reach down, rubbing over your cunt, pressing your panties against you harder. He watches the way you bite back the noises that threaten to escape, his lips turning into a frown. “Don’t do that.”

You shake your head stubbornly and he glares at you, tugging your lip out from the confines of your teeth.

“Guess I’ll just have to wear you out, hm?”

Leon’s fingers are greedy as he pulls your panties free, throwing them somewhere over his shoulder.

“Kiss first,” you say quietly when he thumbs apart your sticky folds, “then lick.”

“I know how to do this,” he grunts, gripping your thighs harder to pull you closer to him.

“Well then show me- oh fuck -”

Your breath hitches when he kisses your clit, the bud swollen and aching from before when he’d licked over your panties and prodded his tongue against you. Leon grins against your cunt, his tongue lolling out to lick a stripe over your wet pussy, delving deep between your folds to drink down your slick.

“Taste good, pipsqueak,” he rasps, licking over your cunt, lapping over and over again until your thighs twitch and your hand tightens in his hair, eyes squeezing shut.

“Don’t- ngh- don’t call me that! ”

“What should I call you then?” Leon asks, pulling back to spit on your cunt, his fingers spreading over your clit and pussy, rubbing it in, his thumb drawing tight circles against your clit. “Hm? Baby, is that what you want? Maybe sweetheart? Darlin’, gorgeous, my good girl? All of ‘em?”

You can only manage out a moan, hips rolling up to meet his mouth as the pet-names ring in your mind, a haze of lust fogging over your mind. Leon lets out a hoarse laugh, prodding a finger against your fluttering hole, easing it in.

A whimper leaves you, cunt clenching around it as he nips at your thigh, tilting his head to suck your clit into his mouth. You shudder as he suckles, tongue flicking against the throbbing bud, teeth grazing across gently. He presses another finger into your cunt, a deep groan leaving him as you clench around his fingers harder, hips jumping when he sucks at your clit with renewed fervor.

“Such a whiny baby,” Leon muses when he hears the little whimpers and whines that leave you, his hand clamping over your hip to keep you in place as you squirm. “Don’t worry sweetheart, ‘m gonna take care of you.”

You mewl, hips rolling again needily as he buries his face into your cunt, slurping and sucking noisily. It makes your cheeks flush with embarrassment, despite the fact no one can hear you for miles.

“Thought- ah- thought you were gonna let me sit on your face,” you mumble out, body shuddering when Leon curls his fingers, beginning to thrust them in and out of you.

“Is that what you want?”

You peer down at him before managing out a nod. Leon hums, taking a measured suck of your clit and pressing a kiss to it. He pats your hip, shifting to lay on his back in response. It’s nice of him, you think, when he offers you his hand, pulling you closer as you swing your leg over his face as you peer down at him.

“Sit on my face, baby,” he murmurs, kissing the inside of your thigh.

You flush lightly, reaching out to brush the hair that’s fallen across his forehead, running your fingers through the soft strands. Leon’s eyes slip shut and you smile, trailing your fingers over the curve of his cheek before shuffling forward, lowering yourself onto his awaiting mouth.

“Oh,” you breathe out, hands landing on the sheets above his head, gripping them tightly.

Leon groans, hands grasping at your thighs, squeezing the fat of them as he urges you to rock your hips across his mouth. It’s almost too much, the swirl of his tongue, the intensity of his gaze as he looks up at you.

“I like it when you shut up,” you murmur, giving him a smile as you drag your cunt over the length of his tongue. “So much more tolerable this way, Leon.”

Leon lets out an indignant sound and you yelp, jolting when his hand comes down on your ass, your flesh stinging. What an asshole. You glare down at him, gripping his hair harder, pulling at the strands, enough to make it hurt .

He grunts, eyes squeezing shut in pain before he grasps your hips, pulling you down flush against his mouth. Your mouth opens, a strangled moan sounding as you feel his tongue pressing into your cunt.

“N- ngh- no,” you begin to say but Leon ignores you, fucking into your cunt with your tongue.

You can hardly see straight, back arching, eyes squeezing shut.

“Brat,” Leon snarls, slapping your ass again, “so fucking bratty, sweetheart.”

“‘m not,” you whine, squirming atop his mouth, moaning again when he sucks his clit into your mouth, tongue flicking and swirling until you’re seeing stars. “‘m not , Leon.”

“You are,” he snaps lowly, “bratty and annoying and a fucking pain the ass.” He licks over your cunt again and again. Your thighs twitch, chest heaving as you suck in short, sharp breaths, hunching over when his teeth nip at your folds carefully.

It’s the worst, or perhaps the best because it has the bridge of his nose pressing up against your clit in a way that you’ve never felt before. You rock your hips, gasping, tears pricking at your eyes when he lands another heavy slap to your ass.

“Cum, baby,” Leon hisses, his voice a low rasp, “cum on my fucking mouth. Can you do that, hm? Be a good girl for once and cum .”

You shudder, a sharp cry tearing its way out of your throat as you cum, twitching violently. There’s sweat covering your body, your eyes squeezing shut as you cum. Leon laps at your slick, drinking it down like a man starved. He squeezes your thighs and you tremble, managing to squirm off of him, slumping down over the blankets, panting as your cunt throbs.

Silence passes over the cabin, save for the soothing crackle of the fire. Leon clears his throat, his arm wrapping around your waist to pull you closer into the warmth of his chest.

“Hey,” he murmurs, “you- uh, you good?”

“Shut up, Leon,” you grouse, still reeling from the fact that Leon had given you the best orgasm of your life.

“I didn’t mean it,” he offers quietly, calloused palm rubbing up and down your side, over the dip of your waist and curve of your hip. “Well, not all of it.”

You shift, turning to face him. Leon’s hair looks like a mess and you figure you don’t look that much better, given all the squirming and writhing you were doing earlier.

“Yeah?” you murmur, “well, I mean it when I say you’re a dick.”

“Fine,” Leon muses, a smile pulling at his lips, “I’ll let you h-”

His words are cut off when you shuffle closer, grabbing his hoodie. Your nose brushes against his gently, eyes fluttering shut as you press your lips against his tentatively. Leon sighs into your mouth, his hand squeezing at your ass, his lips working against yours.

You wrap your arms around his neck, letting out a soft noise when he licks into your mouth, tasting yourself on his tongue. He can’t help himself as he grabs at you, his hands sliding up under your thick sweater to grasp at your tits. You whimper when he pinches your nipples, rolling them between his fingers before tugging gently.

“Gonna let me fuck you, sweetheart?” Leon whispers against your lips.

You nod, kissing him again, pulling at his hoodie. He sits up, tugging it up over his head before reaching for you, pulling your sweater off of you. Leon swallows when he sees your breasts, his hands reaching for them greedily.

“C’mere, baby,” he murmurs, dipping his head to suck a nipple into his mouth. You bite your lip, hands cupping the back of his head as Leon nuzzles into your breasts, mouthing at the sides of them, landing soft kisses across your sternum and up your throat before finding your lips again.

Your hands are just as greedy as his mouth, reaching down to palm him through his sweats, the bulge looking inviting. Leon moans into your mouth and you smile, pecking his lips as you dip your hand inside, curling your hand around his cock.

It’s thick and heavy when Leon pulls down his sweatpants, his cock bobbing. You lick your hips, straddling his thigh, stroking his cock slowly. Leon’s eyes are squeezed shut, his head tipped back as his hips buck up into your hand.

“‘s big, Leon,” you murmur, watching with rapt attention as thick globs of pre-cum bead at the tip of his cock.

“Y- yeah?” he whimpers, thighs twitching, “‘s all yours, sweetheart.”

You hum happily, meeting his eyes before opening your mouth, letting spit drop down from your tongue onto his cock. Leon groans brokenly, watching as you jerk him off, cum and spit mixing together.

“Enough,” he grunts when you swipe your thumb over the tip of his cock.

You pout, shuffling back, enough to get your mouth around the head of his cock. Leon’s grumbling when your tongue swirls around his cock, his hand fisting into your hair to pull you off roughly.

“I said enough ,” Leon murmurs, moving you until you're on your hands and knees.

“Thought you said your cock was mine ,” you drawl, wiggling your hips, ass up in the air for him. “You’re being- oh -”

A dazed sigh leaves you when you feel Leon’s mouth on you again, his thumbs spreading you apart greedily, tongue licking over your cunt. You turn your head, hazy eyes finding Leon’s hand wrapped around his cock, his grip tight as he strokes himself.

“Want your cock in me,” you mumble, drooling into the pillows when he kisses your clit.

“Greedy,” he says, rubbing his cock against your cunt for a few seconds before he presses his cock in.

You gasp, eyes squeezing shut, hips shifting away. Leon clicks his tongue, pulling your hips back, forcing you to take his cock. It’s girthy and thick, a mewl leaving you as you feel his cock stretch you out.

“That’s it,” Leon whispers, hand smoothing over the length of your back, “take my cock, sweetheart.”

You babble incoherently, leaning back into him when he drapes himself over your back, his lips on your shoulder. Leon draws his hips back before thrusting them forward, making you moan. He smiles against your skin, kissing the back of your neck before straightening out.

“Look at that,” Leon murmurs, letting out a low whistle as he spreads your wider, his fingers stroking the edges of your stretched out pussy. “Greedy cunt’s just swallowing up my cock, baby.”

“More,” you whine, starting to rock your hips back to meet his thrusts.

Leon groans, feeling your ass smack back against his hips. He grips you harder, fingers bruising against your hips, pushing down on your back to make you arch. The action has you squeaking when you lose your balance, toppling forward, cheek squishing into the pillows.

The clap of his hips against yours is embarrassing, the cold around you forgotten in the dim cabin, the thickness of his cock replacing any worries you had.

“So fucking good,” Leon snarls, tugging you up again. “Perfect fucking pussy, baby.”

You cry out when he fucks up into you, his chest flush against your back, his arm winding around your neck. Leon squeezes and you slur out a moan, head turning to sink your teeth into his bicep.

He hisses at the flare of pain, squeezing harder. Your body jolts with every thrust, eyes rolling back in delirium at how good the feel of his cock is combined with the squeeze of his arm around your neck.

“Leon!” you whimper, tipping your head back, kissing his jaw sloppily.

“‘m right here, sweetheart,” he groans, mouth slotting over yours messily.

It’s all spit and sloppy kisses, both of your bodies trembling as Leon pounds into you without abandon. The squeeze of his bicep has your vision blurring, nails digging into his thigh. Your cunt clenches and Leon whines, pressing you back down to fuck his cock into you, hand coming down on your ass hard .

“Gonna make me cum,” he rasps, fingers finding your clit, rubbing tight circles around the swollen bud.

“Please,” you mewl, hugging the pillow to your chest, “please, Leon- wanna cum, wanna cum please .”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah,” he chants breathlessly, kissing your cheek, “wait, where- fuck, baby- where do you want it?”

“In- nghhh- in me,” you beg, hooking your foot awkwardly around his leg, trying to keep him from pulling out. “Cum inside , Leon. Want your cum.”

“Shit,” Leon groans, pressing his face into the crook of your neck, his hips humping into your cunt as he loses himself in the tight clench of your pussy. “Sweetheart, you gotta let go.”

“N- nooo,” you whine, shaking your head, wiggling your hips back so his cock presses into you deeper.

He moans, the sound deep and guttural and it has you moaning too, cunt clenching around him like a vice.

“Pussy’s not letting me go,” Leon snarls, cock driving into you deeper as he slows his thrusts, opting to roll his hips instead. “Fine, ‘m gonna give you my cum, sweetheart. Gonna fill this greedy, little pussy up.”

You slur out a response, face shoved into the pillow, writhing as Leon rubs your clit a few more times. He curses when you squeeze around him again, slumping over you as his cock twitches, hot cum spilling into you. You bite your lip, dazed and sated as you cum with him, pussy fluttering around his cock.

Leon kisses your neck, panting as he lets his forehead rest against your back. His softening cock slips out of you and Leon turns you on your back, dipping his head to kiss you deeply. You wrap your arm around his neck loosely, sighing contentedly as he massages your hips and thighs.

“I’ll be back,” he whispers against your lips.

You nod, laying there limp. Leon returns with a dry cloth, his lips lingering on your stomach and hip as he cleans you up.

He tugs you into his chest after, kissing your cheek and letting you burrow into his warmth. Your fingers slide through his hair, playing with the soft strands absentmindedly as he smooths his hand over your side, dropping a kiss to your head every now and then.

“So was that good for practice?” you ask, feigning innocence.

Leon huffs out a laugh, his hand squeezing at your waist. “Yeah,” he says, thumb stroking over the curve of your hip, “real good, baby.”

You hum happily, smiling when he tilts his head, kissing you again.

“Does this mean I can see your work?”

“No,” he replies drily, smiling against your cheek. “Still classified, sweetheart.”

“Well, what can I do to un -classify it?”

Leon grins. “I can think of a few things.”

“Bring me any souvenirs?” you call out, leaning against the side of your car.

Leon rolls his eyes, dumping his duffle bag onto the ground, his arms wrapping around your waist to pull you closer. You laugh, letting him nuzzle into the crook of your neck, humming in amusement when he grumbles.

“You’re meant to say you missed me.”

You did miss Leon. After the snowstorm had receded, you’d still been unable to keep your hands off one another, even when you’d returned home. He’d been called on some mission some months later, and now here you were, picking him up.

“Just a smidge,” you murmur, biting your lip when he noses into your cheek, pressing soft kisses across your skin.

You turn your head, cupping his cheeks to pull him closer, kissing him deeply. Leon smiles against your lips, holding you tighter, arms squeezing around you. “Maybe a lot,” you whisper, landing another kiss to his lips.

“I missed you too,” he sighs, tucking your hair behind your ear and pressing a kiss to your forehead. Leon’s lips drift, dragging down over the side of your cheek and to your jaw. He presses you against the cool metal of your car, one of his hands drifting under your skirt.

“Know that pretty pussy missed me too,” he murmurs, “‘s why you sent me all those videos, right?”

“Shut up, Leon.”

“Oh c’mon,” Leon drawls, pulling you back into his chest when you try opening the door to your car, “I liked ‘em, sweetheart.”

He kisses your neck heatedly, a soft whine making its way out of your throat when he squeezes the fat of your ass and pats it affectionately.

“We should go home,” you whisper breathily.

“Yeah,” Leon murmurs, his hand forward to cup your pussy, stroking it through your panties. “Car’s right here though.”

You squeeze your eyes shut, muttering a curse when Leon speaks again.

“Could be fun.”

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