#commission fill

[jazzthatonewriterchick]

Behind Closed Doors (Gojo x Self-Insert!Reader 18+ One Shot) [COMMISSION FILL]

Pairing: CEO!Gojo Satoru x Secretary!Reader (Coworkers to Lovers)

Synopsis: You’ve been working as CEO Gojo Satoru’s personal secretary for over 2 years now. Since that time, you have learned how to navigate his world of prestige along with his cool and frustrating personality. He runs his company with an iron fist and is often extremely arrogant, cocky, and icy….to the public, at least. Nobody has ever seen the side of Gojo that you do once you get him behind closed doors. And as his personal Dominatrix, what else can you do but know your sub?

Warnings: Smutty Smut, 18+ (MINORS DNI), BDSM, subby!Gojo x Dom!Reader, Secret Relationship, Coworkers to FWBs, Power Play, Body Worship, Oral (Giving & Receiving), Cock Worship, Flogging, Bondage/Handcuffs, Blindfold, Sensory Play, Deepthroating, Riding, Edge Play, Unprotected Creampie, Mutual O, Aftercare, Gojo Is A Good Boy, Reader Is Black, Fem & Plus-Sized

Disclaimer:  I own none of the characters mentioned in this fic. However, as this is my writing, I do not give permission for my work to be reposted on any other sites that are not from my own accounts. Thank you!

Writer’s Note: Got another one for my very amazing, very loyal customer (lol) & fellow creative girly @switchkitty143!! I had a ball writing about subby!Gojo & got inspired from the title. If you know me from Wattpad, you know that I wrote a story called "Behind Closed Doors" based on this EXACT prompt. I may even rewrite it for one of these hot 2D anime guys, but who knows lol. Thank y'all for reading & enjoy! -Jazz

**********

Knock, knock. 

Even before you say “Who is it?”, you know exactly who it is. He didn’t have to call or text you to tell you that he was coming over tonight. You knew that he would show up after what happened earlier today at work. 

Yet still, you ask “Who is it?” as you stand at the door in your tight yoga pants that stretch across your plump ass and your cozy sweater. You were planning to spend a nice, relaxing evening in your apartment with your cat, some much-needed wine, and your trusty vibrator, but your visitor seems to have other plans. 

“You know who it is,” he answers behind the door. His voice is silky and affects you greatly, even from behind the door. Your body shivers with anticipation, even if you still feel sour towards his treatment of you earlier. 

Nevertheless, you fix your hair in the mirror hanging by your door before you twist the knob and open the door for him. Your beautiful boss and the CEO of his own popular, million-dollar marketing company, Gojo Satoru, on his knees for you. Literally on his knees with his head respectfully bowed and his hands in his lap. 

Your stomach flips at the sight of him, especially in such a hilarious position. You cross your arms over your chest, admiring him in his leather jacket and jeans. He must’ve gone home after work and changed. “So,” you say, “you did decide to come tonight.” You knew he would since you didn’t say goodbye to him before you left work today, something you always do. This meant you were pissed and he knew that. 

Gojo slowly lifts his head to look up at you, his blue eyes staring into yours, etched with guilt.

“Good evening, Mistress.” The corners of his pink lips lift slightly in a smile. 

“Evening,” you deadpan, leaning your hip against the doorframe. “So, what do I owe my good boy the pleasure of visiting me tonight?” You notice the way Gojo’s smile slips at the mention of that forbidden, hot pet name. He loves being called a good boy. A blush coats his porcelain cheeks, and you smirk, already drunk off of the control you have on him. “An apology for my behavior today.” 

You pretend to be confused, scowling down at him. “Your behavior?” you question. He opens his mouth to elaborate, but you cut him off with a snap of your fingers. “Oh, yeah! You mean when you acted like a total asshole in front of that bartender and your business partner?” 

Gojo’s face grows redder than a ripe apple, and he tugs at his bottom lip with his teeth. He knows exactly what you’re talking about. This morning, you ran late for a meeting with him and Geto Suguru, his equally sexy and high-statused business partner in the talent business. You have met Gojo a few times before and always thought he was the different side of the same coin Gojo is on. 

While Geto is gentle and nurturing as a boss to his employees, Gojo is the total fucking opposite. As the CEO of his own marketing company in his early 30s, Gojo runs his ship with an iron fist. He is very cocky, very cold, and doesn���t give a fuck what people think about him. He figures he deserves to be that way after working his way up from a publicist after Ivy League. 

You, as his secretary for three years, have gotten accustomed to his personality and almost masochist ways of tossing work at you to see if you can handle it. And adding new rules every month to the ones you took a week to memorize, such as “Always Come Dressed To Impress,” which is why you showed up to the high-end restaurant earlier in your best business dress and trench. 

You are 100% confident that domming your boss in the bedroom is not one of the work rules, but that seems to be something Gojo and you have been indulging a lot in since your work relationship took off. 

When you walked into the fancy restaurant teeming with activity from the brunch crowd, you spotted Gojo and Geto sitting by the bar with matching mimosas to drink while they waited for you. Two things went through your mind when you saw Gojo: he looks very handsome and very, very pissed. You could tell from the way he barely smiled at you when you walked towards him in your huggable dress, nylon stockings, and heels, a manila folder in your work bag. 

“Oh, there she is,” Gojo sarcastically announced when you were finally within earshot. He ticked his head up at you, a coolness in those ocean-blue eyes that you’ve seen hooded and lust-filled so many times before. “So you finally decided to make your grand appearance.” 

You tried to ignore his condescending remark and the way it made your body hot with irritation. You just walked in the fucking room! Why is he already being a dick? “Satoru, don’t,” Geto whispered, giving you an apologetic look. He looked quite handsome with his stark, black hair pulled into a bun and his pale blue button-down. “Apologies, Ms. V. He hasn’t had his brunch yet.” 

Gojo scoffed at his friend, sipping his mimosa. “Apologies my ass. She should’ve been here ten minutes ago, especially to clean up this mess. Punctuality is important to me, as I’m sure you know, Ms. V.” His lips twitched at the corner as if daring you to argue or challenge him. You didn’t. He knew that you would never do so in the place of work. “I apologize, Mr. Gojo,” you began, biting your tongue to avoid slipping into your ‘Mistress’ role. “There was traffic, and I got here as quickly as I could. I’m very—“ 

You were rudely cut off when Gojo suddenly slapped his iPad down in front of you. “Read this,” he interrupted you. “Aloud.” His eyes were sharp when he said it, no longer toying with you because he enjoyed it. He was very, very mad. Whatever it is that got in his cereal today and shat in it has followed him, making him lash out on you. 

You keep your lips clamped tight shut, your eyes ticking from him to the newsletter from some popular Japanese news station. “Satoru, that isn’t necessary,” Geto sighed, pinching his sinuses. “You don’t have to—“ 

“Gojo Satoru’s biggest business flunder,” you read, keeping your voice as level as possible. You didn’t want it to shake. “Amid Fashion Week, the young, handsome CEO who runs his marketing company with an iron fist has decided to separate from Ayano Hiyakazi, the supermodel known for her high-end designer clothes and line of tequila. After a reported scuffle in the meeting room over money differences and negotiations, Gojo and Hiyakazi decided not to partake in the rest of their partnership for Hiyakazi to model for the company.” 

This is all referring to the three-month long negotiation fiasco where Gojo was trying to get into “different avenues” by networking at fashion shows and deciding to try his luck with Ayano Hiyazaki to better push his company and left everything to you on top of juggling other projects and responsibilities around the office. Gojo is looking at you like you just admitted to murder. “I told you to send her an apology letter and a copy of my new offer. What the fuck happened?” 

You feel your body tense at the harshness of his tone. You know you sent an email to Ms. Hiyazaki’s team two weeks ago, but evidently, it didn’t get to her. “It was an honest mistake and miscommunication with her team. It won’t happen again.” You keep your voice level and calm, knowing best to stay cool when Gojo starts to get hot. 

“Oh, I know it won’t,” your boss replies, his voice a sickeningly sweet drawl. “If you needed me to remind you that you’re my secretary and, therefore, are a liability to my company, all you had to do was say it.” He takes another sip of his mimosa, snatching his tablet away. Geto shifts his gaze to you, silently asking you if he should step in. 

Good thing you are one step ahead of your boss. You dig into your bag and fish out a card that Gojo specifically gave you to scan into his computer system for safekeeping. “Ms. Hiyazaki may not be available for this, but Ms. Moyano, one of the Fashion Week ambassadors, was willing to work with us. I remembered her card and sent her an email last week. She just followed up with me this morning. I also got a deal with her line of watches out of this.” 

You hand Gojo the card as well as printouts of her acceptance email and her watch line. Gojo reads both of the pieces of paper, his blue eyes ticking across each word and line. Finally, his expression eases somewhat, and he hums. “Not bad.” Finally, you could breathe. “May I sit?” you politely asked, keeping your shoulders back and your neck long. 

Gojo’s eyes roamed over your form, and you ready yourself for another remark until his phone rang. He groaned, rolling his eyes at the caller ID. “Dammit, here he goes again,” he huffed, standing up from his stool. He roughly popped the collar of his Armani suit and dug into his suit pocket for his sunglasses. “Go on and sit. I’ll be back.” 

As he walked by you, he just brushed your elbow, the fabric of his suit almost burning your skin with how close he was. His cologne invaded your nostrils. Expensive and unattainable. “Nice dress,” he murmured. “Was that why you were late?” Before you could even process the remark, he was walking out the door, yelling at someone named Ino on the line. 

You took a seat between Gojo’s empty stool with Geto on the other side. He gave you an apologetic smile. “I’m sorry about him, Ms. V. As I’m sure you know, Gojo can be very….” He paused, searching for the right word. “Uptight?” you added. “Cool?” He shrugged his shoulders, silently waving down the bartender for you. “Annoying and frustrating are what I was going for, but yes.” 

The rest of the meeting was just you ticking by each moment before you could go home and hopefully dom the shit out of Gojo in the late night, horny hours. Lucky for you, he was on that type of time and obviously had time to think about what he did. “I’m sorry, Mistress,” he softly says, ducking his head in shame. 

You shake your head and press your heel into his crotch, making him slightly gasp at the pressure. “Sorry, I didn’t hear that. Let me hear you.” A whimper leaves his lips, pitiful and sexy, as you press your bare, red-painted toes into his crotch where, sure enough, you feel the outline of his cock. “I-I’m sorry,” he says, louder this time. “For being an asshole.” 

“You will be,” you whisper. You take your foot off of him and open the door wider for his bigger, taller frame. “Get in here, Satoru.” Your boss rises to his feet and thanks you before shimmying his way between you and the door, having to duck to avoid hitting his head on the door frame. You had laughed to yourself the very first night he came here, reminding you of a giant in a dollhouse as tall and as big as he is. The night your “agreement” was cemented. 

He takes off his jacket and hangs it respectfully on the coat rack before slowly walking farther into your cozy apartment. Your cat wanders up to him, trilling, and he bends down to coo at her, scritching the tiny white cat behind her ears. She purrs and rubs her tail up against his long legs. ‘Hussy,’ you think to yourself though you melt at the sight. 

After your cat wanders off to sleep somewhere, Gojo stands and waits for you to walk over to him. He stands as still as a statue, his jaw slightly clenched and his body language rigid. He is waiting. Waiting for you. “You know the drill,” you whisper gently but firmly. “Get your ass up in my bedroom. I’ll be there soon.” The man practically melts at your words, seemingly sighing in relief. “Yes, Mistress. I’ll be waiting for you.” He gives you a seductive little smile that already makes your pussy throb. You only give him a once over, not wanting to crack. He doesn’t deserve your sensual seduction just yet. “I know you will.” 

You watch the sexy businessman saunter off to your bedroom, watching his firm yet plump ass as he goes. Once he’s gone, you collect some items for tonight’s activities: the rest of your wine, two glasses, and some coconut oil that you occasionally use for cooking.

When you finally arrive at your bedroom, Gojo is kneeling on your bed naked, his arms behind his back and his head bowed. Your eyes fall to the hard, throbbing, two-toned, impressive dick he is sporting. Tan at the base, pink at the head, and veiny. Gojo is red in the face and clearly very uncomfortable, his blue eyes hooded with lust. 

You hum in satisfaction and lower your items down on the bedside table. “Not bad,” you comment. “For a slut.” You watch in delight as Gojo presses his lips tight together as his cock twitches. “You dirty man, gettin’ hot and bothered just off of bein’ called a slut,” you giggle. You reach over, snatching a chunk of his hair. He lets out a choked grunt, his handsome face scrunching in pain. “I can call you way worse, y’know. I should.” 

You wrench his head back, earning another grunt of discomfort and pain. “To embarrass me in front of your sexy friend and business partner…especially when I looked so good today.” Gojo’s Adam’s Apple bobs as he swallows hard, causing you to focus on his throat. “Yes, you did, Mistress.” 

“How could you talk so poorly to your Mistress, hm?” you coo. “Why would you want to do that to me?” Your other hand glides down his bulging pecs and toned stomach to toy with cock, gliding it across his head. His body tenses at the soft brushing of your fingertips against his sticky cockhead. “Ah…ah,” he gasps. You grip his hair tighter, making him hiss. “Answer me, slut.” 

You feel his cock twitch at the sensations, his pink, pierced nipples growing tighter. “M’sorry, M-Mistress,” he whines. “I was just…oh, fuck me…stressed and frustrated, and I took it out on you. A-And Geto was talkin’ about how pretty you were and–” 

“Wait, wait, hold up,” you interrupt him, releasing his hair. “Your friend was talkin’ about how pretty I was, and you got jealous?” The white-haired hottie whimpers in reply, making you giggle. “Well, he is a baller,” you laugh, delighted. “And he is quite handsome. And I’m sure he wouldn’t ever dare talk bad to me, his hot little secretary.” 

Your finger brushing turns into stroking and you begin stroking Gojo’s cock from behind, ensuring that he can’t make you go any faster or slower. “Ah, fuck!” he moans. “V, I’m sorry! I-I–” 

“Maybe I’ll go to him for a job,” you continue, whispering in his ear. “Maybe I’ll give him personal meetings at my place in my most expensive lingerie. Maybe I’ll let you watch and you can see how a man should treat a bad bitch like me.” You squeeze his cock a bit, still stroking from base to tip and back. “A-ah, no!” Gojo whines. 

“No?” you coo, relishing the ragged moans and whimpers that your slutty boss releases from his body. “Why not? What could you possibly do for me to make me change my mind?” You stop your stroking, wanting him to think real hard before answering you. 

Gojo takes a moment to recover from your stroking and gulps hard, gathering his words. He turns to you, his blue eyes glassy with unshed tears. “I-I’ll eat your pussy till you cry,” he huffs. “I’ll make you cum as many times as you want with my tongue. I won’t even breathe until you cum, baby, please!” 

Now that? That is hot. 

His desperation and sheer need to please you never fails to take you aback and make you oh-so wet. “You want my pussy that bad, baby boy?” you whisper. He slowly nods, soft pants leaving his plump, pink lips. You lay a kiss on them before you pull away and begin stripping. 

Gojo watches you, never once tearing his eyes away or blinking as your pants and sweater come off your body, revealing your dark purple bra and lace thong set. His eyes widen, drinking in your plump, soft body, juicy tits, and just begging to see your ass in its full capacity. You crawl onto the bed in front of him and lean back, spreading your thighs for him. “Then take it,” you softly growl. “And don’t you dare miss a single drop.” 

Like a wild animal, Gojo goes to pounce between your legs, but you stop him with a foot on his chest. “Ah-ah,” you firmly say. “I don’t want you gazing upon somethin’ this pretty…you don’t deserve that just yet. You need to learn your lesson. Go in my drawer.” 

Already knowing what you’re up to, Gojo wordlessly nods and goes into your bedside drawer, revealing your sex toys. He chooses the black silk blindfold and obediently hands it to you. He then kneels in front of you with his back to you and his eyes closed. You sit up behind him and cover his eyes with the blindfold, cutting off his vision. “Can you see this?” you ask. You wave your hand in front of his face. 

“See what?” he asks, and that is your answer. “Now give me your arms and put them behind your back. You don’t need your hands to eat me.” He does as he is told, and you crawl to your drawer to fetch something else. You smile as you drag the handcuffs out of your drawer and chuckle to yourself when Gojo shivers at the sound of the metal clinking together. You won’t be using them yet. 

“Good boy,” you coo. After placing the cuffs aside and applying some coconut oil to your pussy (because Gojo loves the taste), you sit back and open your thighs again, pulling your panties aside. “Now come here. Let me put you where you need to be.” Gojo lets you grab each side of his face and bring it towards your pussy, the heat radiating off of you in waves that the white-haired hottie feels pulsating across his skin. He is practically salivating by the time his open mouth touches your gorgeous, sobbing wet pussy lips. You moan, tossing your head back at the feeling of his soft lips and his wet tongue, cool and extra sensitive from the silver ball pierced in the muscle. After nearly a week of no action, this is what you need, and you completely let go. “Ohhh, yes,” you hiss. “That’s a good fuckin’ boy.” 

Gojo seems to need it, too. His pussy-eating is greedy, messy, and sloppy. Spit drips from his mouth down his chin as he indulges in your pussy, even licking down your asscrack to catch the juices that spilled down there before coming back up to suck on your clit. The moans that slip from him are slutty and desperate as if trapped for too long and needing so badly to be freed. 

“Does my good boy like eating pussy?” you ask. 

When he doesn’t answer right away, you give his white locks a yank, making him grunt in pain once more. “Answer me, bitch.” You say the word with your entire chest, feeling that it is appropriate considering his behavior earlier. “Yes,” he quickly replies, slightly muffled by your cunt. “I love eating your pussy, Mistress. I needed it so bad!” 

You laugh to yourself as you drag his face away from your thighs, taking in your pussy juices coating his chin and lips. “Wouldn’t it be somethin’ if your staff, colleagues, and business partners could see you now: drooling over eating your secretary’s cunt.” You immediately shove his face back down between your thighs, pushing it into your pusy. “Back down you go, slutty boy.” 

Gojo wastes no time going full munch on you, lapping, slurping, and gulping down everything you give him. Your moans grow louder as his tongue gets deeper, your wetness allowing him to enter you and lap at you fully. “Ah, fuck!” you shout, your toes curling around his head. You grasp his hair for dear life, the pleasure too good for words. When his tongue curls up and his nose swipes against your clit, you swear that you see heaven. “Just like that, ‘Tarou,” you moan. “Do that again!” 

He does just that, and he keeps doing it, desperate for more of your honey in his mouth. 

“Mmm, fwuck, Mistress,” he mutters into your pussyhole, each word muffled by your thick thighs wrapped around his head. “You twaste so fwuckin’ good! Mmm…mmm, fwuck me…” You’ve always thought it was so endearing that Gojo could never shut up when he’s in your pussy, whether it be his fingers, his mouth, or his cock. He needs it just as much as he needs you. 

Finally, you begin to feel your core tighten like a fist, and your moans grow louder, ricocheting off of your bedroom walls. “Oh, fuck, Satoru!” you gasp. “You’re gonna make me cum! Do you want your Mistress’s cum?” You begin to rock your hips into his mouth, riding his tongue and dragging your nails across his back muscles, no doubt leaving scratches. “Please!” he begs. “Please, Mistress, cum for me!” 

After some desperate licks on Gojo’s part and rougher rolls of your hips, you finally reach your end. “Ah!” you loudly gasp as your orgasm explodes deep within you. Heat crackles across your body as sparks of pleasure explode throughout your pussy and your core, causing your fingers to clench and your toes to curl. Gojo has no choice in the matter of slurping up all that you give him–his face is practically pressed against your cunt, nearly suffocating him. But still, he laps away, lewd, sloppy sounds escaping him as his tongue runs along and inside the wet walls of your pussy. Finally, you release him and let him breathe, his face coated in you. You sigh, a slight giggle leaving your lips. “That’s my good boy,” you coo, gently caressing Gojo’s sweaty brow and soft hair. “That’s my…oh! My good, messy slut.” 

Your eyes widen in delight and humor at the sight of Gojo’s hand wrapped around his throbbing, hard cock and sticky with his pre-cum. “Stroking that dick without my permission?” you tut, shaking your head. “Bad boy, ‘Tarou.” Gojo tugs at his bottom lip, his cock twitching in his hand. 

“I couldn’t help it, M-Mistress,” he whimpers. “You sounded so fuckin’ good.” 

While the idea of your boss getting off to the sound and taste of you arouses you greatly, you want to play with him just a bit more. “No excuses…but if you want that cock to be pleased, you’d better let me do it. You don’t touch what’s mine.” Gojo shivers and his cock twitches at the way your voice dips an octave. “Now lay back.” 

He does as told, lying back against your plushy pillows, the blindfold still covering his gorgeous, aqua eyes. “May I take the blindfold off, Mistress? Please? I wanna see you suck my–” 

“Hold up,” you firmly cut in. “Who says I’m suckin’ anything? You're an awfully presumptuous, slutty boy.” Your boss’s face drops despite the blindfold. You’re sure that if you could see his eyes, they would read nothing but sheer dread. “No…you’ll get that when I’m ready. Now give me those wrists.” 

Immediately, Gojo blindly raises his hands above his head. You grab the handcuffs and clip each cuff around each wrist as you cuff him to each headboard post. When you finish, you sit back and admire him for a bit, loving how helpless and vulnerable he looks cuffed to your bed, his muscles on full display and his cock throbbing for you. Helpless to resist, you give him another short peck on his lips and reach in your drawer again for something special. 

You pull out a leather flogger–one of your favorites–and begin your fun by gently teasing Gojo’s cheeks and sharp jawline with the leather strapped tip. “Mmm,” he hums, the soft leather caressing his skin. You then drag it down to his chest and gently fondle his nipples, earning some short groans out of him when you toy with his nipple piercings. 

The flogger goes lower and lower, dragging down his stomach until it finally reaches his cock.  

You drag the leather flogger up the pulsating vein trailing from his heavy, cum-filled balls to the bulbous, pink tip of his cock, giving it a quick smack. “H-Ha, f-fuck,” he stammers. “Ah, God, Mistress.” 

You smile at his reaction, practically salivating. “You are just too cute…and this dick too.” Then, finally, you allow him to enjoy your mouth. Your boss just about loses his mind at the feeling of your soft, wet lips, tongue, and throat suctioning and trapping him, stimulating every sensitive part of him. As you suck him, you use the flogger to gently fondle his balls, using the leather to glide against his skin. You slurp every inch of him, loving each sound that escapes your good boy’s mouth. “Oh, fuck me!” Gojo loudly moans. “God, yes, V, your fuckin’ throat!” 

He bucks and writhes underneath you, gripping the cuffs that his wrists are trapped in. You know he longs to touch you and push your head farther down, so you do it yourself, taking more of him in your mouth and bobbing your head up and down. Saliva drips from your mouth, leaving drool all over his dick and balls that make sucking him dry so much easier. 

It doesn’t take long for your good boy to begin bucking his hips underneath you and pulling at his restraints. “No,” he pants. “No, no, wait, Mistress, wait!” At the desperation in his voice, you stop. “What is it?” you ask through a mouthful of drool. “You don’t wanna cum yet?” 

You can almost see Gojo staring at you from behind his blindfold. You picture his eyes holding desperation and need as he wets his pink, plump lips. “I-I wanna do it inside you. I need to cum…i-inside.” Each word and syllable are broken as if his voice has suddenly left the building, leaving him a gasping, stammering mess. “Please fuck me, Mistress, and I’ll do anything you tell me to. I’ll hold my cum as long as you want me to, just please FUCK ME!” 

You can no longer deny the want that you need, too. As much as you love teasing this man out of his mind, you also have had enough of teasing yourself. You need to fuck him now. So after a quick kiss to his cockhead and tossing the flogger to the side, you crawl on top of Gojo and plan your hands flat on his stomach to give you balance. But you don’t slide down his cock just yet. 

“You’ve earned it,” you softly murmur and untie the blindfold from Gojo’s eyes. His eyes, fanned by white lashes, flutter at you, and a small, adoring smile stretches across his lips. It makes your stomach flutter. You begin to rock your pussy against his hard cock, drawing moans out of the both of you. “Look at me,” you moan. “Look at me when I bounce on this cock, okay, baby?” 

Gojo slowly nods, lips parted and eyes glazed with lust as he watches you roll your hips into his cock. “Yes, Mistress,” he murmurs. “I promise I will. You’re so good to me.” 

Those words get you like no other dirty talk ever has. Placing your hands on his shoulders, you rise up onto your knees and immediately sink oh-so-slowly down Gojo’s long, thick, beautiful cock. The moan that escapes him is fit for a porno, drawing something feral and needy out of you. “Keep tellin’ me how good I am to you,” you breathlessly order. 

You begin to bounce up and down, keeping a low tempo that allows Gojo to feel every part of your tight, wet, velvety cunt and watch your titties jump. “F-Fuck!” he loudly gasps, gripping the cuffs for dear life. “Y-You’re so goddamn good to me, V, fuck! I fuckin’ love this pretty fuckin’ pussy…o-oh, my God, do that again, please!” 

A sly grin slides across your face. “What?” you giggle. “This?” You swirl your hips forward as you come up and toss your ass back as you come down, earning the most beautiful, delicious sounds out of your boss. His snow-white eyebrows knit in ecstasy as he watches you, mouth agape and his handsome face etched in pleasure. He is truly so beautiful like this. So beautiful that you can’t resist giving him a deep, sloppy kiss as you ride him, taking every inch of his cock. 

“You’re so fuckin’ good for me, too,” you whisper against his lips. “You’re such a good boy, takin’ this pussy and givin’ me all of this pretty dick. You wanna give me so much cum, don’t you?” 

You begin to bounce faster, harder, sinking your nails into his broad shoulders. The sounds that escape as his cock plows your pussy is like wet Mac n’ Cheese, creating a sexual symphony with the creaking of the bedsprings and your moans bouncing along the walls. Gojo tosses his head back and squeezes his eyes shut as if the very sight of you bouncing on his dick is too much for him. “Yes!” he shouts. “Yes, yes, please, Mistress! D-Don’t stop! I need to cum inside you!” 

“How much?” you growl, staring deep into his eyes. “Enough to beg for forgiveness? Enough to put a little more in my account tomorrow morning?” He frantically nods, becoming delirious from your wet pussy. “Yes, yes, anything!” he whines. “I’m so sorry, V! Your slutty boy is so fuckin’ sorry! I’ll never do it again!” 

You smile, falling in love with seeing him so helpless and desperate. You can feel your orgasm rising and you begin to bounce faster, making every inch of your beautiful, plump, soft body jiggle and bounce with you. “Then cum with me, and not a second later. Give me that fuckin’ nut, baby.” 

That is the tipping point for Gojo. He grits his teeth as he feels his orgasm rising and finally opens his mouth to let out a series of yummy, loud moans that would make anyone blush. “Cumming!” he raggedly moans. “I-I-I’m gonna…oh, fuck!” 

And that is your tipping point too. You let out a loud, unabashed whine as you cum all over Gojo’s cock, drawing his cum out of his cock to fill you up to the brim. You grip his shoulders and press yourself into him, chest to chest, your nose in his neck to breathe him in.

The waves of your intense orgasm crash over you like a sea, taking you in and spitting you back out over and over again. Gojo’s cock pulses and twitches inside of you as his spunk spurts out of his balls, giving you drop after drop until he can no longer give you anymore. 

Once your high fades and you’re both left ragged, you slowly wrap your arms around Gojo, keeping his cock inside of you. He leans his head into your chest, his lips pressing the space between your cleavage. “Thank you,” he softly whispers against your breasts. You smile through the sex haze and gently pet his hair. “Good boy,” you softly murmur against his forehead. “Now let’s get you to bed.” 

Gojo hums appreciatively and softly hisses when you rise off of him, groaning at the sight of his cum oozing out of you. He says nothing when you unshackle him from his cuffs, but he doesn’t have to. You know that he is appreciative and satisfied. As are you. 

You don’t remember much after the hot shower and the nighttime cuddle. Nothing except hitting the cool sheets naked with Gojo and sleeping off the rough session for the rest of the night. When you awaken, the morning sun is peeking through the blinds, and you hear your cat meowing. You rise off of your pillow, naked and slightly sore from the night before. “Hm,” you moan. You turn to your open bedroom door, looking into the hallway. “Here, kitty, kitty!” 

Suddenly, you hear the thumping of footsteps and your boss appears in your doorway. Shirtless and holding a plate. “Meow,” he chuckles. “I fed her while you were sleeping. Hope you don’t mind.” 

Sleep suddenly avades you, and you are now totally awake. “No…thanks. What’s all this?” Gojo’s smile widens as he wanders into your bedroom and lowers a plate of delectable breakfast food and a piping-hot mug of sweet-smelling coffee onto your bedside table. “A thank you for last night, of course. I just fixed the basics: eggs, toast, and bacon. I made you coffee too.” 

You ogle at the sweet gesture, taken aback. Gojo has always thanked you for your services, but never like this…except in the financial way that you mutually agreed on. But you still find yourself smiling at him, touched. “Thank you.” 

The handsome, young CEO shakes his head, placing his hand on yours. “No, thank you. For last night. It was amazing.” His blue eyes dazzle you, appearing like the most precious sapphires. “But all of our nights are.” You snort to yourself to hide the way his sweet words give you butterflies. “I guess that orgasm made you sweet again,” you joke, taking a piece of bacon from the plate. “So I take it I did my job?” 

Gojo’s smile suddenly fades, and he leans in, making you lean back against the pillows. His face being so close makes your heart jump despite having done so many nasty things to him the night before. “You always do your job, V. In and out of the bedroom.” His lips cover yours, soft and gentle. Careful and affectionate. “But don’t let that go to your head,” he whispers. 

Once again, you giggle and scrunch your nose when he lays a kiss on it. “Too late.” The sexy ass man in your bedroom throws his head back and begins to laugh, only for his joy to be sucked away by his phone beeping in his jeans sitting on the floor. 

“Ah, shit!” he hisses. “My reminder. I forgot about this fuckin’ meeting. I swear, these meetings are just an excuse for these motherfuckers to get day drunk.” He huffs as he looks at you, looking extremely disappointed that your morning after was interrupted. “Duty calls.”  

You have nothing else to say, so you just say, “Yeah” with an understanding smile. You know what you are and he knows it too. It is back to reality now. So you quietly eat and enjoy the show as you watch Gojo get dressed. When he finally finishes, it is as if he had never spent the night at all, looking fresh, clean, rich, and sexy as hell. 

Before he leaves, he comes back over to your bedside once more and gives you a quick peck.

“Thank you again,” he murmurs. “Oh, and before I forget, check your Cash App.” He gives you a wink as he turns, giving you a good view of his ass in his jeans. “I’ll see you later, Mistress.” 

And then the sexy motherfucker is out the door, taking his perfect ass, cock, and smile with him. As you sip your coffee, you do as he said and check your Cash App. The amount there nearly makes you choke. Over $6,000 sits in your account, doubled from the usual $4,000 that Gojo usually pays you after your Domme services. 

He’ll definitely have to nag you at work more often. 

THE END

[jokeringcutio]

Arthur Harrow x ftm Reader - Part 1 (At the Cult)

ONE: Summary: You’re part of Arthur Harrow’s community, but hold a special place. Arthur Harrow (Cult Leader) x FTM Reader. Rating: Explicit (Contains smut). Words: 6026 Thanks to the wonderful supporter who commissioned this fic ♡

For: @apriltearsbringmayfears Tags: Older man x younger (ftm) reader, consensual intimacy, praise kink, touching, kissing, explicit sexual content, bit of powerplay, overall sweet, you x the villainous cult leader, Arthur takes care of his favorite.

The compound buzzed with activity. Over the months, disciples from all corners of the world flocked to Arthur Harrow's side, drawn by his charisma and the promise of Ammit's judgment. The compound grew. Each day brought them closer to summoning their dark mistress, and the tension in the air was palpable.

You stood at the edge of the gathering, the evening air thick with incense and murmured prayers. Arthur Harrow's voice rose above the crowd, measured and calm, guiding his followers through the ritual. You watched him intently, captivated by the way he moved and the cadence of his words.

"Come closer," Arthur called out, his blue eyes locking onto yours. The group parted as you made your way to the front. The soft light of dusk cast shadows across his face, accentuating the lines of wisdom and age. He reached out, gently taking your hand, pulling you closer to his side. His touch sent a shiver down your spine.

"Your insight is invaluable to us," he said softly, loud enough for others to hear. "What do you think?" He turned to you, inviting your input on the matter being discussed – a new prayer to Ammit, a change in the daily routine, the specifics blurred in the haze of your focus on him.

The fact that he asked for your opinion had not escaped his follower’s notice. It was a rare and coveted position. Arthur rarely sought the opinions of others. You, however, were granted a glimpse behind the scenes, privy to the inner workings of the cult. Arthur Harrow sought your counsel on matters both earthly and otherworldly, and you found yourself inexplicably drawn to him. His very presence set your heart aflutter, and you felt honored to be in his orbit.

You remembered the first time he sought your advice - and more.

One sweltering afternoon, as the sun beat down on the compound relentlessly, Arthur had summoned you to his private chambers. You'd been a part of his community for several months. Months that were spent locking eyes and exchanging careful smiles. Months that had rewarded you with thoughtful frowns and pursed lips. Until that very faithful day when Arthur had decided it was time to take action.

"I have need of your counsel, my disciple," he said, his voice laced with a hint of urgency. "Come, walk with me."

You followed him willingly, your heart pounding in your chest. Arthur's chambers were cool and dim, a welcome respite from the punishing heat outside. He closed the door firmly behind you, the click of the latch ominous in the ensuing silence.

"We are close," he breathed, his eyes alight with religious fervor. "So very close to unleashing our goddess's judgment upon this wounded world. But... I find I do not wish to face the end of days alone."

He slid his strong, weathered hand up your arm, sending shivers down your spine. You shivered, both from the coolness of the room and the intensity of his gaze.

"I have need of you, my sweet disciple," he purred, his voice a low growl that set your blood on fire. "I value your counsel,” he hesitated, low voice a murmur that sent electric tingling down your core. You felt hot, thighs squeezing, throat suddenly dry – making it hard to swallow – as you waited for the words that came next.

“I cannot continue without your... companionship."

His fingers brushed your cheek, gently caressing your cheekbone before slipping lower, lower still. You gasped as his fingertips found the hem of your tunic, sliding it upward. The air cooled your damp skin, but not nearly as much as the cold metal of his cane as he traced it up your thigh.

"Arthur," you breathed, "I..."

"Hush, my boy," he soothed, his lips mere centimeters from your ear. "You are mine to do with as I please. Ammit has willed it so."

With that, he kissed you, his lips demanding and hot, bruising in their ardor. His other hand fisted in your hair, angling your head just so. He was insatiable, ravenous in his need for you, and you knew in that moment, you belonged to him.

His cane clattered to the ground, followed by the rustle of fabric as his clothes fell away. He lifted you effortlessly, carrying you to the desk behind him, laying you down as if you were made of the most delicate porcelain.

"Forevermore, we are entwined," he growled, his eyes glowing with otherworldly fire. "Body, soul, and... eternity."

You snapped out of the memory, your eyes upon your leader once more. Arthur’s gaze was focused, sharp, but his pupils were dark. A look that you recognized. It was almost as if he had read your mind.

His hand lingered a little too long, hovering just above your own as if hesitant to touch you. Then he retreated a step, the distance allowing you to think once more. He was a magnet, distracting and always pulling you close. But you loved him for it and wouldn’t want it any other way.

You offered your thoughts, careful, measured words spilling from your lips. Arthur nodded approvingly, his gaze never wavering from yours. The others watched, some with envy, others with admiration. They saw how he favored you, how he sought your counsel, keeping you close.

Let them watch, you thought with glee. Let them be jealous. You had what none of them could have for their own.

As if to prove your point, Arthur stepped nearer again, uncaring about the looks his followers gave you.

"Thank you," he whispered, his breath warm against your ear as he leaned in. "You always know just what to say." His praise filled you with a warmth that spread from your chest to your fingertips, a sensation both intoxicating and grounding.

This time his hands did touch. His warm palms slid past your shoulders, lingering a little too long, searing through the fabric of your clothes. Your breath hitched in your throat. His eyes darkened. There was want visible in both of your gazes. Want, and need, and lust dripped in sin.

But you had to be patient and wait.  

"Take an example of this fine young man," Arthur then said loudly as he turned back to the others - you'd almost forgotten they were there. No longer were his eyes fixed on you. But you heard the gravel in his voice, the need and longing that he was pushing down. If others heard it, it could easily be interpreted as devotion for Ammit instead. "Now, let's not disappoint our goddes any further. We have matters to attend to," he wrapped it all up so beautifully. And you watched him as he stood with his arms stretched, the red fabric of his simple cotton blouse stretched over the broad muscles of his back.

No wonder these men and women were all entranced. If any man could honor a god, it was him. ~

As the evening wore on and the group dispersed, Arthur lingered near you, his presence a constant comfort. He wrapped an arm around your shoulders, gently but determinedly.

"I have more to discuss with you," he said, his voice a low murmur meant only for you. His strong grip was comforting, guiding you in the direction of his office.

The hallway was quiet but not deserted, yet the sound of crushed glass beneath his feet inside the sandals and the tapping of his cane were the only noises breaking the silence. Each step resonated with purpose, echoing the devotion you felt for him. You glanced up at him and admired his features in the dimly lit light of the hall. How beautiful he looked, how strong and regal. It was the determination, you thought. And the confidence he oozed. The combination of these traits was like a potent cocktail, leaving you dizzy with admiration.

Arthur's fingers brushed against your arm as he guided you through the dimly lit corridor. The scent of incense lingered in the air, a mix of sandalwood and something sweet, almost intoxicating. You felt the eyes of the other followers on you, their gazes a blend of curiosity, jealousy, and reverence.

When you reached his office, he opened the door, ushering you inside with a gentle but insistent hand on your back. A gesture that was both inviting and commanding. You stepped inside, the room filled with the soft glow of candlelight. The walls were lined with ancient texts and symbols, each a testament to Arthur's devotion to Ammit.

"Sit down, love," he said, motioning to the chair opposite his desk. You obeyed, your legs trembling slightly as you lowered yourself into the seat. Arthur walked around the desk, leaning heavily on his cane, the sound of crushed glass inside his sandals a reminder of his constant penance.

"I have had to restrain myself all evening," he began, his blue eyes locking onto yours. But before you could respond, he moved closer, his hand reaching out to cup your cheek. His touch was warm, almost burning.

"It’s high time you give me what I need."

His lips crashed against yours, rough yet tender, a kiss that stole your breath away. You melted into him, every fiber of your being consumed by the fire of his touch. When he pulled back, his eyes were dark with desire.

"I need you," he murmured, the admission a low growl. "I need you now."

The world outside ceased to exist. You knew your pupils were blown, that the desire he felt for you was reflected just as strongly in you.

"Undress," Arthur commanded, his voice a rough whisper against your ear.

Your heart pounded as you nodded, fingers trembling slightly as they reached for the buttons of your shirt. Each button came undone with an audible click, the sound magnified in the quiet room. Arthur's eyes never left yours, his gaze intense and unyielding.

The shirt slid from your shoulders and dropped to the floor carelessly.

"Good boy," he murmured, a faint smile playing on his lips. His praise sent a shiver down your spine, your skin prickling with anticipation.

The cool air caressed your bare skin, a stark contrast to the heat radiating from Arthur's body. His hand reached out, fingertips grazing your collarbone, tracing a path down to your chest. You inhaled sharply at his touch, desire pooling low in your abdomen.

His fingers paused, graced over the faded scars, traced them, and then slid lower. He paused again, eyes darting up to meet yours.

"Now, help me," he said, taking a step back. He leaned heavily on his cane, the crunch of glass underfoot echoing in the room.

You rose from your chair and moved closer, hands steadying as you undid the buttons of his blouse. The fabric was coarse beneath your fingers, worn and familiar. You pushed it open, reveling at the sight of his chest. He was smoother than most, but still strong and muscular for a man his age. It only showed how fit he was, how strong. How well he took care of himself despite the calm demeanor he normally exuded in front of his followers.

With careful hands, you pushed his blouse down, allowing it to slip from his arms. You tugged at the garment when it got caught on his bracelets, freeing it so the blouse could slip further down his arms.

And then the fabric fell away, revealing the tattoo of scales on his right arm, a symbol of his divine purpose. Your breath hitched as you traced the ink with your thumb, feeling the warmth of his skin beneath.

The intricate design captivated you. The scales, perfectly balanced, seemed almost alive even in their stillness. You remembered the first time you saw them move, the way they shifted and tipped whenever Arthur Harrow held someone to judge them. It had been a moment of both awe and fear, the power of judgment tangible in those fluid lines.

Now, as you studied the tattoo, admiration filled your thoughts. Each line, each curve of the scales, spoke of a purpose far beyond mere human understanding. Arthur's role as a judge, divinely ordained, was etched into his very flesh. The memory of the scales balancing and tipping, the fate of a soul hanging in the balance, made your pulse quicken.

Such power he held. And he knew it. Your eyes sought his.

Arthur was quiet, allowing you this moment to explore the tattoo – it wasn’t the first time. You’d yet to see anyone else be allowed to touch his skin in such an intimate way. To explore his forearm and the scales that were drawn there.

His eyes watched you with an intensity that spoke of the weight he carried. You wondered what it was like for him, to bear such a mark, to be the vessel through which judgment passed.

As your fingers continued to trace the intricate scales, you could feel his pulse quicken beneath your touch, matching the rhythm of your own racing heart. The intensity of the moment was almost overwhelming.

Then his fingers curled around your wrists and the scales began to shift. You were startled, even though this always seemed to happen at his touch. You knew he couldn’t help it. The scales did their work when his hands met flesh. It was Ammit’s will. It was why he wore long sleeves to cover up the moving mark.

You knew which way they would tip.

With your breath high in your chest, you watched as Arthur’s fingers curled gently around your wrist, tugging you closer to him. The scales shifted, their movement subtle at first, then more pronounced. They tipped to one side, then the other. The delicate balance, usually so steady, now mirrored the tumultuous emotions swirling within both of you. The scales' movement seemed to draw Arthur closer, his breath hitching as he leaned into your touch. The divine mark on his arm reflected the inner conflict and desire that neither of you could ignore.

The sight of the scales in motion, combined with the raw need in Arthur's eyes, created an intensity that left you breathless.

His lips were upon yours once more, just as hungry as before. But this time it was you who fisted his hair and pulled him close – hungry for more. Famished.

The moment the kiss ended, Arthur's gaze locked onto yours his eyes reflecting a mixture of longing and need that sent a shiver down your spine. His usual stoic demeanor faltered, revealing the depth of his desire. The air between you crackled with unspoken tension, each breath you took seeming to draw him closer.

"More," you breathed, lifting your gaze to meet his. "Arthur…”

His eyes darkened, a primal satisfaction flickering in their depths. "I don’t take commands from anyone," he murmured, a hint of amusement in his voice, “except Ammit herself.”

A guttural growl escaped his lips as he pulled you closer against his chest, arms circling around you. He rested his chin on your shoulder. “Do you think you’re in the position to command me?”

“N-No,” the answer came instantly, a rasped whisper. Why had your voice turned hoarse? It must be the arousal thrumming through your body, begging him to touch you more. Wanting, needing it. “I’d never dream of it,” you rasped.

Arthur merely tilted his head but it was enough, a silent indication that he anticipated more from you. You heard him draw a deep breath, his nose buried next to your ear, taking in the scent of you.

"I am yours, but also your disciple,” you breathed, your voice barely more than a whisper. “I like it when you take control. When you show me your power."

He stirred, a sign of approval of your words. A slow, predatory smile spread across his face. "Then you'll enjoy what's next."

You bit your lip, anticipation coiling tightly within you as he led your hands down to his waist, indicating what he wanted you to do. You obliged, fingers working deftly to undo the button of his pants. He watched you, his gaze heavy with approval.

"You're doing well, love," he praised, his voice a soothing balm to your frayed nerves. His cock sprung free from its confines.

With his pants undone, you eased them down his legs, careful not to disturb the glass shards embedded in his sandals. His briefs followed.

It took a lot not to let your gaze linger too long on his erect cock, already bobbing up against his waist. Pre-cum already moistening the tip.

Arthur stepped out of his clothes gracefully, despite his limp, and kicked them aside.

"Now, come here," he ordered, reaching for you.

You obeyed without hesitation, stepping into his embrace. His arms wrapped around you, pulling you close against his solid frame. His lips found yours again, the kiss searing and demanding. You melted into him, surrendering completely to his dominance.

"Good boy," he murmured against your lips, his breath hot and intoxicating. "Such a devoted young man.”

Arthur's hands roamed over your back, his touch firm and possessive. His lips trailed down your neck, each kiss igniting a trail of fire beneath your skin. You shivered, your breath hitching as he nipped at your collarbone.

"Mine," he growled, his voice a low rumble that sent shivers down your spine.

"Yes," you whispered, your voice trembling with anticipation. “Yours.” You would never deny how he had captured you.

He pushed you gently but firmly onto the small couch in the corner of his office. The leather was cool against your heated skin, a stark contrast that made you gasp. Arthur stood over you, his eyes dark with desire.

"Good boy," he murmured, running a hand through your hair. "You're so obedient."

You looked up at him, your heart pounding in your chest. His praise washed over you, filling you with a sense of pride and belonging. He leaned down, capturing your lips in a searing kiss. His weight pressed you into the couch, his dominance unmistakable.

"Arthur," you breathed, your hands clutching at his shoulders.

"Shh," he hushed you, his lips brushing against your ear. "Let me take care of you."

His hands moved with practiced ease, guiding you into position as he sank to his knees between your spread legs. You felt his strength in every touch, every movement. He was in control, and you reveled in it. His fingers traced patterns on your skin, tracing the fading scars of what once was and what now felt much better, leaving goosebumps in their wake.

"Beautiful," he whispered, his head between your thighs. His voice filled with reverence as his eyes feasted on your torso. "So perfect for me."

You felt his hands slide lower, felt his fingers hook behind the waistband of your cotton pants, tugging, and lifting your hips. The garment came off easily, revealing that small bulge in its full glory.

Arthur’s hitched breath gave away his pleasure, how his pale eyes darkened as they came to rest upon your crotch. The small cock nestled between your legs, not as large as his, but ever so sensitive. Already fully erect, - your body did not hide the full amount of your excitement - and your devoted leader leaned over you without hesitation, grasping your cock with a reverence that should have been deserved for holy ceremonies.

“Mine,” he said again, his words rasped and filled with raw desire. His fingers curled around it, tugging harsher than gentle – but in a good way.

You moaned softly, your body responding to his words and touches. His fingers danced past your cock, up and down, fingertips searingly hot against your hardness.

He dipped his head forward, murmuring sweet words against the skin of your thigh.

“Such a good boy,” you could vaguely distinguish, but his voice was so terribly low and muffled by your skin as he placed open-mouthed kisses all the way up to your pubic bone. Your core ached and tingled, begging him to place those open-mouthed kisses there. But he was teasing you.

“You will take me so well,” another open-mouthed kiss while his fingers danced down your shaft until only his thumb pressed down against it, creating circling motions that sent sparks of pleasure wrecking through your core.

“Look how hard you are for me already…” The kiss against your thigh turned into a lick, surprising you and erupting a low mewl from your lips. Another flick of his thumb against your cock - it was nearly too much already.

“Look how hard your cock is,” as if to prove his point, he moved his head closer to your core. His lips pressed wetly against your cock, flicking his tongue flat against your throbbing cock before taking in the tip and sucking hard. Your toes curled and your fingers reached for his shoulders, digging into his skin. While his mouth occupied your throbbing cock, his fingers dug lower, not giving you any rest. They explored, twitched, and scissored your wet core.

“Look how wet your delicious cunt,” another lick past your cock. Another digit curling deep inside you. Wetness was already gushing out, coating his fingers, your walls twitched tightly around the invading digits.

You let out a curse, head falling backward, while you tried to pull the man close. “More,” you moaned. Not a demand but a plea. You knew not to command him when he was like this.

You felt Arthur’s fingers move more earnestly inside your cunt, wet sopping sounds coming from your core. Using his elbows, you felt how he spread your legs further. His fingers kept pumping, twisting and curling deep inside, while his tongue still worked on your cock. His cheeks hollowed as he sucked, nipped, and licked until you were seeing stars.

Your body twitched, your cunt clamping down on nothing - the bastard had retracted his fingers before you had fully come. You growled at him, hands holding him in place, but he looked up at you. Not with a smirk – as you had expected – but with a questioning gaze.

He wiped his lips with the back of his hands, moving with just enough strength to push himself up. Your knees fell as closed as they could, clamping against his chest. Unfortunately, you had to let go of him and your hands dropped to your sides. You gazed up at him through the haze of your orgasm, wondering if this was all he needed from you tonight. You hoped not.

“I’m not done with you yet, pretty boy,” Arthur murmured, placing a hand on your knee and spreading your legs anew. You saw how his dark eyes drifted to your core, studying the mess he had created with his fingers by bringing you to climax.

Finally, his lips curved into a smirk.

“Well, would you look at that?” How could he sound so calm and collected when his own cock was throbbing against his own belly? He was hard, his cock pouring liquid from the tip – eager to be milked dry.

He seemed to study your wet cunt and traced the juices that had come out with his index finger before bringing the digit up to his lips and tracing it past them, leaving behind a glossy shine. His tongue darted out, deliberately slow.

“Hmm,” he hummed, as if he had just tasted an aphrodisiac that was too delicious to ignore.

Then his hands were back upon your thighs, spreading them wide.

Yes, your mind provided you. Yes, and again. You wanted him inside, needed him desperately to claim you over and over, to show you pleasure yet again.

“Seems like you ruined my couch,” his eyes darted up to meet yours, “again.”

“You’d have it no other way,” you said defiantly, uncaring about the wet spot created by your mixed juices - it wasn't the first time, after all. You allowed him to pry your legs a little wider so he could move in between them and studied the way his hair fell down his face, how stray strands fell in front of his eyes and clung to his still wet lips - shining with the gloss of your juices.

He positioned himself above you, his gaze locking onto yours. The intensity in his eyes took your breath away.

"Tell me," he commanded, his voice soft but insistent. His arms trembled from carrying his own weight, mindful not to crush you. His cold bracelets pressed against your skin, a reminder of who it was who was going to fuck you - hard. "Tell me you need me."

"I need you," you replied, your voice barely more than a whisper, hoarse and oh-so full of desire. "I need you now, Arthur."

It was all he had to hear. The tip of his cock sought its way between your folds, fingertips guiding him in. His hips dipped as he slowly pushed forth, parting your silken walls, stretching you wide.

"Good boy," he praised, his lips curling into a smile. “Here’s your reward.”

He entered you slowly but easily – you were still wet and slightly trembling from your previous orgasm. His movements were deliberate and controlled. You gasped at the sensation, your hands gripping the couch tightly. Pleasure started to build almost instantly, and you found yourself lost in the rhythm he set.

"Such a good boy," he repeated, his voice a soothing balm. "Taking me so well."

And you did. You gazed between your legs, watching as his hard veined cock – covered in your combined juices – slowly moved in and out of you, pumping a steady rhythm. The scales on his right forearm tipped wildly from side to side, never resting and never deciding.

You threw your head back again, feeling his pulsing cock stretch your walls, the veins on his shaft throbbing. He was adding pressure until he bottomed out inside you and you felt every ridge and vein and clawed at his back while you gasped for air.

"Arthur," you moaned, your body arching beneath him. He filled you up just the right way. As if he were made for this - as if you were made for him.

His hands curled around your legs, holding them, positioning them for him to be able to move smoothly, hitting that spot deep inside that made the sopping sounds worse and the sparks of pleasure inside your core alight with electricity. Your own cock was pressed against Arthur’s skin, stimulated by the hairs that nestled above his cock as he moved in and out of you.

You bit your lip, toes curling and fingers tugging at his shoulders, urging him close.

"Yes, love," he cooed, his thrusts steady and powerful. "Just like that."

The room filled with the sounds of your shared ecstasy, a symphony of devotion and desire. Wet, lewd, sinful. Each stroke, each caress, brought you closer to the edge. You felt his strokes deep inside, the ease with which his hard cock slid in and out of your fluttering hole. Your walls were clamping down, begging more. His strong hands were on your hips, his usually bright eyes now clouded with lust as he stared at the spot where both of you connected with sopping wet sounds.

So good, your mind provided as you curled your back in delight. So darn good.

You grasped his shoulders tighter, surprised when his own hands left your hips to pull your arms away and pin them to your sides. A guttural growl escaped his lips, primal and raw, as he put pressure on your wrists.

In this position he was in full command, controlling every movement with his hips and his grip. He kept you pinned down, forcing his hips tighter against yours, thrusting harsher, more powerful.

You watched the little beads of sweat drip down his forehead, sliding past his nose. The way his hair clung to his face, or how his lips were parted in raspy moans and gasps. His gaze intense as he watched your expression.

He was in charge, exerting his power over you in ways that your body effortlessly embraced, swallowing him up - both the squelching noises of his cock thrusting in and out of you, as well as the way you hungrily accepted the kiss from his lips when he leaned forward and begged for entrance. You obliged, parting your lips so his tongue could slip between them, and kissed him back just as eagerly, battling his tongue with your own until you sucked him in hard enough to hear him moan.

His dominance was a comforting weight, grounding you in the moment while he held your wrists pinned down. His thrusts grew harder, more punishing, as his lips broke away from yours.

He sat up, hips still forcefully meeting your own, and grunted. His hands wandered up your chest, but you kept your wrists where he had held them pinned. Allowing him to dominate you, to fully conquer what you were so willing to give him.

"You're mine," he growled, his pace quickening, hands pushing you down to the couch possessively.

"Yours," you echoed, your voice breathless. You were close. So, so terribly close to coming. Again.

"Good boy," he praised, his fingers finding your lips and pressing against them till you tasted the heady mixture of your juices on your tongue. "Always mine."

"Always," you agreed, a muffled word against his fingers that smelled of arousal and sex. Your body trembled with pleasure as his fingertips left your lips and slid down your body till he grasped your hips fully again.

"Mine," he murmured, his tone softening. "Let's finish this."

"Arthur," you cried out, the intensity of your emotions overwhelming as he hit that delicious spot deep inside. It sent you over the edge, little white sparks clouding your vision. Your back arched, chest pressed up against him as your orgasm surged through you, body trembling, walls clasping him tightly, milking him for all you were worth.

"Shh," he soothed, his movements never faltering. "I've got you."

But you had already tumbled over the edge, muscles tensing with bliss. Your orgasm washed over you while Arthur rocked his hips against yours, chasing his own release.

You clung to him, your body surrendering completely to his will.

"Perfect," he whispered, his breath hot against your skin. "You're perfect."

Another peak was building. How could it? So soon after you just came a second time? But you were babbling nonsense now, just pleading and begging for Arthur to give it to you. You lost yourself in the sensations, the world narrowing down to just the two of you. His dominance, his strength, his love – they were all-encompassing. You were his, and he was yours, bound together in a dance of power and devotion.

His hips stuttered and you felt his release. Hot cum flooded your insides, warm and wet and so, so good.

"Mine," he whispered, his voice a promise. "Always mine to pleasure and to hold."

His thumb found your cock, thumbing it, giving it just the right pressure and friction to have you crawl in pleasure underneath him until you were spasming around him once more. A third orgasm wrecked through you. A cry escaped your lips, joined by a low groan from his lips.

"Good boy," he praised one last time, his voice a gentle caress. "My good boy."

Your body twitched underneath him, spent and exhausted. Yet, you found the energy to smile up at him. A lust-filled, enamored smile that left him feeling weak and breathless.

"Perfect," he murmured, his voice thick with emotion. “So incredibly perfect for me.”

His hand caressed your cheek, coarse fingertips brushing past your skin reverently. You didn't even mind that his fingers were still covered with your combines juices. It felt claiming, in some way.

You felt the sporadic pulsing of his cock deep inside. It was twitching less and less, slowly growing limp inside of you as he came down from his high. His leg pressed down over yours, knees touching.

"I prefer you like this,” he murmured, his voice soft and tender. “Just as you are."

A blush might have crept up your cheeks – you weren’t sure. But his words had hit something deep inside of you. All the insecurities, all the struggles, you could forget everything when you were in his arms.

You felt his cock go soft, slipping out of your core with a wet sound that made both of you chuckle. Arthur raised a brow at you, and you half expected for him to pull away and get dressed again. But he didn’t. Instead, he maneuvered his body next to yours, scooping you in his arms like a big spoon. His legs pressed between yours as you lay entwined, your bodies slick with sweat and satisfaction. Arthur's breath was warm against your shoulder, his arms wrapped securely around you.

He pressed a gentle kiss to your skin, his lips lingering as if savoring the moment.

"Sweetheart," he murmured, his voice soft and tender. "You are just right. Right for me, and right for Ammit. But mostly, right for yourself."

He must have heard the deep breath you were drawing or have felt the way your hands tensed where you had gripped his wrists, for you felt him move against you. “You’re just the kind of right for me. And,” here he paused and you could hear how he lowered his voice, a playful tint to it. “That says a lot as I am a man with many needs.”

You blushed, the heat rising to your cheeks at his words. "I'm happy," you admitted, your voice barely above a whisper. "Happy to be who I am now. And where I am."

"Good," he replied, his tone filled with genuine affection. "That's all I've ever wanted for you."

You basked in the afterglow, contentment washing over you like a warm embrace. In Arthur's arms, you felt whole, complete.

The two of you rested in silence, Arthur’s lips hovered over your shoulder, placing deliberate and soft kisses on your skin. Each kiss – though as light as a feather – carried something possessive, the urge to claim you. Like he was branding you as his.

"Celibate, huh?" you teased between kisses, your fingers threading through his graying hair. "Some of your followers would get a heart attack if they knew what happened behind these doors."

He chuckled against your lips, the sound vibrating through you. "They'll never know," he murmured, his voice a soft rumble. "To them, I am nothing but their chaste leader." His eyes sparkled with mischief as he pulled back slightly, giving you a moment to catch your breath.

"Chaste, my ass," you shot back playfully, a grin spreading across your face. You trailed your fingers down his chest, feeling the rise and fall of his breath beneath your touch.

"They'll never know how truly powerful you are." The words were a whisper from your lips.

Arthur's expression softened, and he wrapped his arms around you, pulling you closer. His breath was hot against your ear as he whispered, "It doesn't matter if the others never see the full me. The only ones who need to know the true me are Ammit,” here he paused, breath stuttering. “And you."

His lips brushed the shell of your ear, sending a thrill through you. "You are important to me."

A rush of emotion welled up inside you, overwhelming and all-consuming. In that moment, you felt more connected to Arthur than ever before. His words, his touch, his presence. Everything about him made you feel cherished and significant.

"Arthur," you breathed, your voice thick with emotion. You knew you'd go to the end of the world with him and back, if that was what he wanted. What he needed. You'd do it all for him. "I..."

"Shh," he hushed you gently, pressing a finger to your lips. "Stay close to me today," he said, his voice carrying an undercurrent of concern. "I need your presence."

"Always," you promised, your heart swelling with emotion.

For a moment longer, you remained in his embrace.

~ * ~

[loveistrueblue]

Commission Fill: Lockscreen, homescreen, and icon pack.

Order your own here!

[auroblaze]

I Love *clenches fists* Sonic Team's varied creechures designs

[oooocleo]

have a peep.. ill make a proper post about it when i have time, but i'm very much hoping to be able to make regular bug fae lore updates part of my patreon perks in the coming year.. i hope thats something folks are interested in! & it'll also help me make steady progress w/ it haha

[gruvu]

SO in Feb I drew up Pelops which he's honestly one of my favorite lil dudes now to draw and that's thanks to @neal-illustrator and her Poseidon. Course then I did not really draw her design, I'll be honest. I did her poseidon dirty. And that feels like a crime. Since I'm gonna try to draw other Poseidons with Pelops, I gave neal's boyo a shot. Please be careful with Pelops. He's just a lil guy.

[82lead]

I’m starting to see a pattern, Diasomnia boys are a fan favorite 🫨

*click for better quality* [ ⚠️ Do not Repost without Credit || Likes and reblogs are welcomed ✅️ ]

[welcometogrouchland]

(ID in alt) I literally said I was gonna post this month's ago and then never had the wherewithal to describe it and so I didn't Lmao (said with pain). But since I'm thinking of opening my commissions I figured I should remind ppl that I. Yknow. Can draw.

Lots of Steph here (I had major art block making all of these and my brain worms for her kept me going) + some sprinkles of stephcass for Cass nation to enjoy!

[polar-night-scout]

was looking through some older art and I found this Keyleth sketch I made years ago when I was actively listening to Critical Role. I decided to post it unpolished because I like this sharp and dynamic energy that usually gets lost as I process the art more.

[mycherrycola]

Who was gonna tell me that drawing those goofy ahh pope hats would be such a pain

[jazzthatonewriterchick]

MOST WANTED III (Sukuna x Self-Insert!Reader x Toji 18+ One Shot) [COMMISSION FILL]

***IMPORTANT DISCLAIMER: THIS WORK CONTAINS R*PE & NONCON SEXUAL ACTS. PLEASE MIND THE TAGS AND READ LIGHTLY.***

Pairing: Mafia Boss!Toji Fushiguro x Self-Insert!Reader x Gangster!Sukuna Ryomen (Enemies to Lovers)

Synopsis: You are spiraling six months after your "encounter" and failed mission with Sukuna. You've quit your job as a spy/hit-woman for your agency and you are trying to live a normal life despite the hauntings and hot dreams of two certain criminals. But when a chance reunion happens at a bar with Toji Fushiguro, you realize that you have a chance to make things right for yourself and finally get the fucking your body desperately needs.

Warnings: Smutty Smut; 18+ (MINORS DNI); Reader is Fem, Black & Plus-Sized; (Poorly Written lol) Action Sequence; Kidnapping; Threesome; Dubcon/R*pe; Bondage/Handcuffs; Blindfolding; Sensory Play; Knife Play; Facefuck; Cunnilingus w/ Vibrator; Edge Play; MDom!Toji & Sukuna x fsub!Reader; Mating Press; Doggystyle; Rough Sex; Reader Cums 3x; Facials; Creampies; No Aftercare

Disclaimer: I own none of the characters mentioned in this fic. However, as this is my writing, I do not give permission for my work to be reposted on any other sites that are not from my own accounts. Thank you!

READ PART I WITH MAFIA BOSS!TOJI HERE!

Read Part II WITH GANGSTER!SUKUNA HERE!

Writer’s Note: WE ARE HERE AT THE END!! Thank you all so much for reading this little series from the mind of @switchkitty143! I had so much fun writing this series & delving into the dark, kinky world of sex with Toji & Sukuna's evil asses lmaoo. I may continue this series or make a spinoff at some point, but my brain has too many fucking ideas already. Enjoy! -Jazz

*************

Another night spent in a martini glass. ‘What a Friday night,’ you somberly think as you sip on the last morsels of your dirty martini. 

When you flag the bartender down, he nods and is already getting you another glass. Despite the fact that he can probably tell that you are drunk as a skunk and don’t need another glass, you also tip like a motherfucker and you’ve been here many times before, getting drunk and being responsible by taking an Uber home instead of driving.

You have been frequenting your local bar way more often now in between your shifts at your new remote job as a data analyst. It is a good job, pays the bills, and allows you to continue to live your life as a nomad which you have become accustomed to for the past six months…not your choice, but it is necessary. 

As soon as the bartender lowers down your glass, you snatch it and take another sip of the medicine. You stare at the two empty glasses in front of you, your vision slightly blurry. Your head has become fuzzy, causing the sounds, sights, and tastes around you to be sharper than normal. You can feel eyes on you, rolling over the nylon stockings and burgundy top you paired with your leather jacket despite the bitter cold. 

You are drunk and you don’t care. That is why you came tonight, right? To get drunk, meet some hot guy, and forget the fact that you’re a total failure, a nomad, and you gave up a career that used to be your entire life? 

It has been six months since you quit your job as a hitwoman at C.O.D.E and since your encounter with Sukuna. The events of that night compiled onto the ones with that damn Toji Fushigiro until you had no choice but to quit. Having two of your targets fuck you out of your mind and get away doesn’t exactly look good on your performance report. So you took one for the team and “extracted” yourself from the situation yourself. 

It was hard. God, was it hard. You’ve been working at C.O.D.E. for a long while and it became your life. But more than walking away from a job you have come to love and cherish, you couldn’t stand to see the look in your boss’s eyes when you handed over your badge, gun, and resignation letter. You saw pity. You hated his pity. 

As if that wasn’t bad enough, when you walked out of the agency’s doors, you could hear whispers and feel eyes staring at you. The entire floor was silent except for the few hushed voices trying to keep their conversations down. It didn’t work. The entire walk from work to the parking lot felt like you were doing the walk of shame.

You knew people found out about you fucking Toji and Sukuna. You knew people were talking about how slutty and stupid you were. You couldn’t stand the thought of continuing on with the rest of your days trying to ignore the whispers down the lane before your boss fired you (aka took you out back and put you out of your misery), so maybe quitting was the best decision. 

And although you keep that in your head, the past six months have been nothing short of a self-loathing hell, mindlessly wandering through each day wasting away in your apartment, shoveling down ice cream and wine, having meaningless sex, and attempting to not cry every morning and night. If you aren’t doing that, you’re working your remote job or going to the bar to get smashed only to repeat the same hellish, depressing cycle. 

There is no change and you don’t even know what “change” would look like to you. You feel like you have no future. No excitement. No purpose. No nothing. 

At least until you happen to turn your head slightly to the left to look down the bar. You don’t know what makes you look. Maybe the lights were getting brighter. Maybe you heard someone laugh a little too loud. Or maybe you just sensed a certain presence that caught your attention. You realize that it may be the third option when you see one of the men who have been haunting you for months sitting at the bar with a shot of expensive whiskey. 

It is impossible to not recognize him. Not with the way he fills out his leather jacket and jeans, how big he is, and the scar at the corner of his lip. You know those cool, gray eyes anywhere. They have haunted you for months, bringing both nightmares and hot dreams that leave you sweating in the night. He is completely unaware that you are staring or that you are even here, just a short walk away down at the bar. 

You know you should look away, but you can’t. Your attention is completely drawn to him like a month to a flame…or like a scorned woman to revenge. And that is what you are: a scorned woman. A woman who is angry and broken and in need of getting even. All of that rage comes rushing back the moment you lay eyes on Toji Fushiguro who has the nerve to be in here of all places. Not in prison. Still living his life while yours is crashing down. 

All you see is red as you watch Toji pick up his shot glass and drain the amber liquid in it, his Adam’s Apple bobbing in his thick neck. You briefly think about snatching the glass from him and smashing it against his head. The violent image is quickly wiped away when he suddenly checks his watch and slips the bartender a crisp $50 bill before rising from his stool and abruptly leaving. 

You watch him still, your eyes glued to his moving back as he heads to the side exit leading out into the alleyway. Suddenly, you grab your martini and drain the rest of it before sliding the bartender $20. “Put it all on my tab,” you call to him before you rise from your seat. And then you’re following the criminal in his footsteps, moving as quickly as you can despite your unsteadiness and the risk of tripping in your boots. 

But you don’t care. You have a one-track mind now hellbent on seeing Toji face to face and…and what? What will you do? Will you hurt him? Will you confront him? Will you kiss him? Your mind is a muddled, jumbled, drunk mess, jumping from emotion to emotion. 

When you finally stumble outside, the cold air is like a shock to your system. You suddenly hear a click and turn to see Toji standing in the alley, his back to you. The orange glow of a lighter flicks, illuminating his clothes and his black hair, against the cold, dark shadows of the alleyway dumpsters. He holds the tiny, flickering flame of the lighter to his lips where a cigarette stick protrudes, lighting the butt until it turns red. 

You quietly watch him for a few seconds, shivering. From the cold, yes, but also from how nervous you feel. He truly is an intimidating man. He has made that very clear to you. But you aren’t afraid of him. You can’t be. ‘Fear is weakness,’ you think. So you clear your throat and open your mouth: “Hey,” you call, flinching at the sound of your voice. “Toji, right?” 

You see Toji’s shoulders tense at the sound of his name. Slowly, he turns, his big frame blocking off the other end of the alley from you. “Who’s askin’?” he demands, squinting at you in the dark. You step a little closer but still keep a good distance from him in case he tries something. “You don’t remember me.” You lift your head to show him all of your face. Every feature. Every line and curve. 

Toji continues to squint, his brows narrow in confusion. He takes a drag from his cigarette before blowing the smoke out between his O-shaped lips, creating a cloud between you. “Should I?” he asks, a slight chuckle in his voice. Then, suddenly, a light of recognition appears over his face.

“Wait…V, right?” he questions. Your body buzzes at the sound of your name escaping his lips. 

Toji scoffs like he can’t believe it is really you. Like you’re old friends or something and not the woman he took advantage of and ruined the life of. “Shit…I do remember you. It’s been a long time. How’ve you been, sweetheart?” He gives you a toothy smile that angers you and gives you butterflies. 

“Horrible,” you growl. “And it’s all because of you.” All of the venom you have been feeling has laced your tongue and escaped your mouth, embedded in your voice.

Toji’s smile falters an inch, taken aback by your answer. “Uh, sorry?” he chuckles, cocking his head to the side. “I think you’ve got it wrong, sweetheart. I don’t even know what’s goin’ on.” 

He takes another drag of his cigarette and exhales the smoke, squinting at you through the thick, gray rings. You scoff to yourself, adrenaline pumping through you. “Of course, you don’t because people like you only think about themselves and not about the harm you cause other people, you selfish dickhead.” You watch his smile slip and his eyes flash with irritation from the insult. 

“I lost my job because of you,” you hiss, taking a step toward him. “My career. My entire identity.”

Shockingly, he steps back. “Whoa, wait, wait, wait.” Toji puts his hands up as if calming a crazed wild animal, holding his cig between his thick fore and index fingers. “Look, m’sorry and all, but I didn’t do shit to make that happen. I didn’t sit behind your boss’s desk and fire you, did I?” 

His expression is sharp and narrow, his jaw set. You can’t care if you’re playing with fire here. You don’t care what happens. Your anger is too strong, pushing you forward with each thud of your boot. “I should kill you,” you hiss, venom lacing your voice. “I should take you out right now like I should’ve done that night I met you.” 

Your hand inches for your back pocket and Toji follows it, not moving but rigid as a board. When you pull your gun out and cock it–click–, he barely even flinches. He is used to this. Perhaps he was even anticipating it. Has he been expecting you at some point, you wonder? “V,” he says, his voice deep and on the hint of a warning. “You need to back up right now and take that gun away from me. You don’t want none of this.” 

He drops his cigarette and lets it die out on the payment. Unlike your anger, it snuffs out like a light and the smoke wisps through the air like ghosts. Though your hand shakes, you keep it aimed at his face. The same face that has followed you and taunted you for months now. “Yes, I do,” you growl. “I want it all, you evil motherfucker.” 

Crash! 

Something attracts your attention from behind just for a second. It sounds like a glass breaking inside the bar or someone falling outside. Either way, it is enough time for Toji to make his attack. As soon as you turn back around, he grabs your wrist and twists it. With a grunt of pain, you are forced to drop the gun. Hopelessly, you watch it clatter to the pavement before Toji kicks it away to somewhere behind a dumpster. 

With a growl of anger and determination, you use your knee to nail him right in the balls. His face twists in pain and his hold slips, allowing you to break free and nail him in the jaw with a right hook. His head flies back from the impact and your knuckles flare from them hitting solid bone. It is a sweet ache. You go to punch him again, but he stops you with one hand blocking your fist. 

With a grunt, he twirls you around and shoves you into a nearby wall, your front pressing up against the bricks while his front presses into your back. You grunt in desperation, trying to wriggle free, but he presses harder. “Y’know, I don’t hit girls,” he sighs, “but I do fight bitches.” 

Bitch? 

Thinking quick, you open your mouth and sink your teeth into Toji’s arm that is pinning your hand to the wall. He grunts in pain before you snatch your hand free and elbow him in the stomach. When you turn around, he is absolutely furious, staring you down with a look that would make a man shake in his boots. “Let’s see what you’ve got then, dickhead,” you hiss, putting your fists up and assuming the position for a brawl. 

Toji smirks at you, a quiet deviousness in his eyes. He sizes you up for a moment before he lunges at you. You jump back against the wall and quickly move out of the way, causing him to nearly crash into the wall. Using that as an opening, you pounce on him and lock your arms around his neck, attempting to strangle him. He grunts, gripping your hands as he tightens his neck, making it thicker. He then stands on unsteady knees and tries to throw you off, but you’re not letting go. 

Toji laughs, his voice raspier now with his throat constricted. “Not bad,” he grunts. “Maybe losin’ your job at that whack-ass agency was what you needed. Now let me go.”

But you don’t. You hold on tighter, squeezing his neck with your elbow. Toji grunts again, this time in pain, and falls back onto his knees. You are almost fully on top of him now, nearly strangling him. “C’mon, V, lay off,” he huffs. “That hurts.” 

It should hurt. You want him in pain. Out of the corner of your eye, you see your gun glistening underneath a dumpster just a foot away. You could reach it with your foot and kick it over to you. 

You could kill this fucker right here. Take him out and show your boss that you got at least one criminal that you were tasked to get. You can complete your mission. 

But Toji’s big, veiny, calloused hands stop you short. Not yet. Unfortunately for you, you’ve still got unfinished business with him and that business includes curing your horniness for him for good. 

“Not until you give me the answer I’m looking for,” you whisper in his ear.“I’ve been thinking a lot about you lately and I remember that you told me if we ever cross paths again, you’d let me join your side.” 

You loosen your grip on his neck, allowing him to take a proper breath. “Well, I’ve decided that I’ll do it: I want to be your hitwoman.” 

Finally, you release him and step back, allowing him to do what he wishes at this moment to you. All he does is turn to face you and then slowly stands, using the brick wall for support. You stifle a laugh as you watch him. You like seeing him struggle. His gray eyes roll up and down your body, sizing you up as he rubs his throat. “What’s the catch?” he asks, suspicious. 

As he should be. You can’t exactly blame the guy since you almost strangled him to death. You shake your head, offering him a smirk that is probably slightly off-putting. You kind of like intimidating him. “No catch. I just figured since I’m as close to you as anyone at my agency, I can help you and you can help me by letting me use my skills again.” 

Toji stares at you in utter disbelief, still rubbing his neck. “For evil?” he asks, raising an eyebrow at you. “Isn’t that, like, totally against everything you used to work for?” You huff to yourself, rolling your eyes. “What else am I gonna do, Toji?” you rhetorically ask. “Even if I get another job at an agency, we’d probably cross paths again because you’re on every government agency’s radar.” 

The man stops short of his next smart-ass remark and looks as if he is finally taking in what you are saying. To make him trust you at least an inch more, you back away from your gun, leaving it lying where it is. You raise your hands in defense, letting the cool air slip between your fingers. “I have no attacks left. No games. No weapons. Nothing. Just give me a chance.” 

This can either go one of two ways: he either walks away from you now and leaves you totally humiliated or he takes that gun and shoots you dead. You are prepared for both at this point. There is no way that he will– 

“Fine,” he agrees. You gape at him, shocked, but nothing in his face reads that he is playing around here. Nothing about Toji Fushiguro says “playing around” as long as you’ve known him. “But if you want to prove yourself to me, you’ll have to do it my way…and prove it to someone else.” 

“Who?” you demand, blinking at him. Your heart is hammering in your chest and your body is buzzing, kicking your fight or flight into gear. He suddenly begins sauntering up to you, the scarred corner of his mouth lifted up in a slight smirk. You back away the more he gets closer until your back collides with the brick wall behind you. Toji looms over you like a damn villain, his face shrouded in darkness. “You’ll see. Sorry for this.” Suddenly, in a flash, his hand is gripping your hair and slamming the side of your head into the wall. Pain explodes in your skull and your vision blurs as you lose your footing and collapse onto the pavement. 

Faintly, you sense Toji kneel beside you and smell the mint gum and whiskey on his breath as he leans in toward you. “Nighty-night, mama,” he whispers before pressing his lips to your cheek. Then everything is dark. 

************ 

The next time you wake up, you are in a soft bed that isn’t your own.

You don’t jolt awake and shoot up out of bed. It is a slow awakening….and you coming to consciousness. The last thing you remember is blackness.

But now, all of that is replaced with a luxurious king-sized bed and a soft, wine-colored duvet that you’re currently underneath. Your clothes are also gone, leaving you exposed in your lace bra and thong panties that you got from Soma. You had worn them to the bar in an effort to be “prepared” for a possible hookup. 

You finally sit up and hiss at the ache at the side of your head. Your brain feels like a sledgehammer is knocking against it. You go to rub it, only for your fingers to caress a quarter-sized lump at the base of your scalp. ‘What the hell?’ you think. Where did that come from? Did you run into something while talking with Toji in the bar’s alleyway? 

In an attempt to jumpstart your memory, you look around at your new surroundings, noticing the large window overlooking the late-night sky of Tokyo displayed in front of you. You have no idea what time it is, but you know it has to be somewhere in the AM hours. On your right-hand side is a lounge area with burgundy and black armchairs and a couch staring at a flat-screen mounted on the wall.

To your left is a polished kitchen, mini-bar, and the door. Are you in a hotel suite? A penthouse? “Where am I?” you ask aloud. 

“Don’t worry about it,” a rasped, deep voice answers you. You gasp, turning back to face the lounge area and squinting into the darkness to try and make out a face. A limb. A body. You see absolutely nothing until a light flickers on. Sitting in an armchair with his ringed finger wrapped in the chain of the lamp at his side is someone no short of the Devil himself. “Just be glad we have ya luxury. You coulda woke up in a warehouse.” 

Your body tenses and your heartbeat increases dramatically at the sight of the spiked, pink-haired, tattooed gangster clad in a black tank top, jeans, and a gold chain necklace that hangs down to his tatted pectorals peeking from underneath his top. Sukuna. You thought for sure that you would never see this man again. “You,” you exhale.

Sukuna smirks at you, taking a sip of the amber liquid in his glass. “Me.”

He sits back in his chair and watches you over the rim of his glass, his crimson eyes hunting you despite you already being present. You grip the duve to your chest, hiding yourself from him. “What are you doing here?” you hiss. “Where are my clothes? Where’s Toji?” 

Like clockwork (or being summoned like the demon he is), Toji comes waltzing out of the door behind you on your left, scaring the hell out of you. He is laughing as he does, dressed in black sweats, polo socks, and a white tank top that is way too tight on him and defines every single muscle of his upper torso. “Whoa, whoa, little V,” he chuckles. “One question at a time. You’ll give yourself a damn heart attack….or make that head throb even more.” 

He stops at your bedside, peering down to look at you. He looks almost apologetic as he stares at your face. “Sorry ‘bout that bump, by the way. If it’s any consolation, you still look damn gorgeous.” He gives you a smirk and a glass of water that you didn’t notice he was holding. You hesitantly take it and take a tiny, suspicious lick of the cool liquid before you slowly sip it. 

Sukuna rises from his seat, making an irritated grunt. “Cut the sweet talk, Fushiguro. We ain’t here to woo the bitch.” His eyes, just as menacing and devious as the night you met him at the masquerade ball, bore into yours, gluing you to your spot on the bed. You snap your head around to glare at Toji. “What’s going on?” you demand. “Why is he here?” 

Toji’s brows raise in surprise at you, unswayed by your scornful expression and steely tone. “Oh, you ain’t know? We’re in business together—have been for a couple of months now. I thought your agency was aware.” He gives you a toothy grin that pisses you off even more. Sukuna chuckles, sauntering over to you in his boots. “Shit, me too. You people have been keepin’ tabs on us for a while now, pissin’ me off…” 

He holds a toothpick in his mouth, rolling it between his teeth and soft lips. The bottom lip is pierced now and you just see the slight glint of another piercing in his tongue. He regards you with a less-than-sympathetic expression though his lips twitch into a smirk. “So you quit, huh? What’s up with that?” 

He stands on your right while Toji looms over you on your right, the both of them trapping you in the bed. You feel like a prisoner. “I needed a change,” you quietly lie, clutching the duvet closer to your chest. “I’m sure he already told you.” Toji chuckles, liking your bite. “Oh, he did,” Sukuna replies, flicking his toothpick away to somewhere across the room. “I just can’t help but think you’re up to somethin’ if you’re so adamant to be under our wing.” 

He too sizes you up, reading between your lines like you’re an open book. You roll your eyes, threw with their suspicions. “What the fuck do I have to lose?” you ask, exasperated. “I’m not even in law enforcement anymore! I have nothing!” You spread your hands towards them, flipped up and open-palmed. Empty. 

You watch the two gangsters look at each other, silently conversing with one another until they come to a joint decision. Toji’s smirk widens while Sukuna only wears a tight-lipped expression that makes you feel nervous about what is to come. What could they possibly do to you? 

“You really wanna prove yourself to us?” he asks. 

You aren’t sure if you should even answer. But what else can you do? And more importantly…what will they do to you if you don’t answer? Swallowing roughly, you nod. 

“Then kneel.” You blink, not expecting those two threatening words to come from Sukuna’s mouth. You stare at him and then at Toji, wide-eyed and stunned into silence. This is really happening. And you can’t stop it. 

Biting your tongue and swallowing back your fear, you slowly position yourself to kneel on the bed, but Sukuna’s angered expression stops you short. “No,” he barks. “On the floor.” Biting your lip, you slide off of the bed and onto the floor, obediently sitting with your palms placed facedown in your lap. You sit at the feet of the two sexy, dangerous men, staring down at the floor and regretting your life choices. “There you go,” Toji coos. “That’s a good girl.” 

He places a hand on your head, gently petting your hair. A shiver runs through you at the unexpected praise and he notices. “Yeah?” he teases. “You like bein’ called a good girl?” 

To subtract the pleasure, Sukuna takes lockful of your hair and yanks it, bringing his mouth to your ear. “You’d better answer right,” he growls. “I don’t have the patience for bratty bitches.” 

The sting mixes with Toji’s gentle strokes, creating a confusing cocktail of pain and pleasure. “Y-Yes, sirs,” you stammer. A hand grips your chin and forces you to stare up into two sets of intense, lustful eyes. “And you’re gonna do whatever we say, right?” Toji adds, his voice silky and smooth. “Because you wanna prove that you can be good and follow instructions, right?” 

“Yes, sirs,” you repeat. Sukuna releases his harsh hold on your hair, flicking the strands. “Then you’re gonna sit there and let us tie you up, blindfold you, and then do whatever the fuck we want with you,” he sternly says. “And you’re not gonna complain or bitch or moan. You’re gonna let us use you as much as we want to because that’s what you signed up for.” 

Your body feels like it’s on fire from the inside. Your entire being buzzes to run. To fight. To be away from them….but at the same time, you’re tempted to stay. “Now be a good slut and close those eyes,” Toji demands. You do as you’re told, doing your best to not shake, even as you hear sudden noises. Even as you feel your wrists being forced behind your back and bound along with your ankles. Even as you feel a blindfold fall onto your eyes, darkening your vision. Even as you feel the cold blade of a knife slice off your bra, leaving your breasts exposed.

You are completely naked, blind, bound, and at the mercy of the two men in the room. “Comfortable?” Sukuna asks. 

“No,” you answer, your wrists already aching from being restricted.  

“Good,” he deadpans. “Now lean forward and hike that ass in the air.”

Slowly, you tilt yourself forward in an effort to not crash into the floor, but Toji helps you, keeping a hand on your back. You hear the two audibly groan at the sight of your plump ass in their faces when you’ve assumed the desired position, your cheek squished against the floor. There is no warning to the several harsh slaps that the two men give you, open-palmed and without mercy. The burning sensation you feel on both cheeks is intense, the loud sounds of their hands colliding with your butt evidence of how hard they are hitting you. 

SPANK! 

SPANK! 

SPANK! 

“Ow!” you exclaim, flinching at the harsh spank. Sukuna gives your asscheek a scrape with his teeth, making you flinch. “Shut up,” he demands. “You knew what you were in for when you decided to pursue him outside the bar. Just who the fuck do you think you are, huh?” 

“Aw, I like hearin’ her sing,” Toji cackles. “She’s so adorable like this.” His big hand cascades down your stinging ass, soothing the fiery sensation. Sukuna is less gentle, instead opting to give your pussy a couple of smacks over your panties. “As soon as he hit me up, I shot over here just to get the chance to use you again.” 

Snip-snip. The knife cuts through your panties with ease, leaving your cunt exposed to the cool air and the two men. You do your best to not shake. “And you’re goin’ to enjoy it: because that’s what sluts like. And you’ll really like this shit.” You hear a buzzing sound and already know what they are planning for you. 

You can’t run or hide or squirm when Sukuna presses the vibe against your clit as he begins eating your pussy, his soft lips and tongue caressing your slit. You moan into the floor at each long lick that he gives you, start with your slit and prying your lips open to slurp you straight from the source. The buzzing sensations from the vibe are too intense, each vibration rocking you to your core and quickly making you soaked. “Ah!” you gasp. “W-Wait, it’s too much!” 

“That’s ‘cause it’s on the highest setting, baby girl,” Toji chuckles, watching Sukuna lick you down. “Don’t squirm or even think about grindin’ that pussy against that toy. You won’t like what we’ll do next if you do.” 

Click-click. 

Your body freezes at the familiar sound of a gun cocking. Of course, they would have a fun. Sukuna stops his eating and his hand suddenly grips your hair, forcing you to sit up. Your new position causes the vibe to settle between your thighs underneath you, pushing itself right up against your pussy. The cool barrel of the gun presses against your wobbly lips. “Suck on it, babes,” Toji coos. “C’mon, you’ve done it before. You know exactly how to put those lips to work.” 

With no choice in the matter, you open your mouth and allow Toji to slowly insert the gun into your mouth. And you suck. No matter how afraid or how much your body is fighting against it, you bob your head up and down as if you’re sucking a cock, hollowing your cheeks along the cold metal barrel. “Aaaatta girl,” Toji teasingly drawls out. “Open that throat for us.” 

You whimper around the gun as the toy continues to buzz against your cunt, making you sobbing wet. You feel that it is against your will…is it? Is anyone of this? The lines are becoming blurry now. “Enough of this shit,” Sukuna growls. “She needs to suck on somethin’ else now. That’s why she’s here.” 

Toji huffs, but fortunately takes the gun out of your mouth now slick with spit. “So impatient. Whatever happened to foreplay?” You hear the rustle of clothes and you already know what is coming next. Minty breath fans over your face and soft lips kiss the shell of your ear. “Want somethin’ else in that mouth, mama?” he whispers. 

He doesn’t wait for an answer…and neither does Sukuna judging by the very real, very warm, and very hard cocks suddenly lightly tapping your face. “Instead of one big cock, you get two! Aren’t you a lucky slut!” You make a noise between a whimper and a grunt as one cock pushes past your lips and settles on your tongue. 

“God, I’ve been fuckin’ waitin’ for this,” Toji sighs, already moving his cock past the threshold of your soft, wet mouth to intrude your throat. You gag, not quite ready for him yet, but you open your throat in an attempt to yawn as he begins fucking it like he would a toy. Spit begins to drip from your mouth as he fucks your face, allowing him to do so more easily. “Not bad, baby doll,” he grunts. “You’re better cocksucker than a fighter honestly.” 

Sukuna chuckles, the sound rumbly and deep. “I’ll be the judge of that.” He grabs the back of your neck and forces you to take him now, shoving his cock deep down your throat until his balls touch your chin. “That’s it,” he groans, rolling his hips against your face. “Take me. Just like you need.” He is more ferrous in his fucking than Toji is, gripping the back of your head to pull you back and forth onto his dick. 

Toji hums pleasantly as he watches you–the beautiful little slut blindfolded and bound–get face-fucked like there is no tomorrow by a grunting and groaning Sukuna, his face as flushed as his pink hair. “Slow your roll, Ryomen,” he chuckles. “Don’t forget that I’m here too.” You feel his hard cock slap against your cheek, his sticky head dripping with pre. 

They take turns using your mouth like this, grabbing your hair to push you back and forth between them, forcefully fucking your face. You have no choice but to go along with it, relaxing your jaw as much as possible despite how much it aches. They are too fucking big! How the hell did you do this before? 

But no matter how rough they are fucking your mouth, the fact that it turns you on remains. The toy buzzing against your sloppy, sobbing wet cunt knows it–it slides against your lips and continues to send those intense, merciless, damn pleasurable vibrations throughout your needy little button, making it almost impossible for you not to cum. It just happens. While Toji is fucking your face, complimenting you on your “goddamn beautiful mouth”, you moan around his cock as your pussy unravels on the toy. 

The men notice. Of course, they do. “Stop,” Sukuna orders Toji, glaring down at your whimpering, quivering lips. He tuts at you as if you’re no more than a bug. “Cumming without permission, huh?” he sighs. “‘Dumb slut just doesn’t know when to quit. Guess it can’t be helped.” 

Once Toji has got his dick out of your mouth, Sukuna roughly bends you over and replaces the toy with his mouth. “Let’s see how you’ll do this time around,” he hisses before his tongue is invading your pussy, making your quivering walls and each muscle even more tender and sensitive from his relentless tongue-fucking. “S-Sukuna, wait!” you wail, desperately panting and wailing from his mouth. 

“But nothin’,” Toji growls, his cock sinking back into your mouth. “Nothin’ but you takin’ the rest of this dick. C’mon, pretty girl…don’t you wanna please your new boss?” His chuckle is almost evil as he fucks your mouth once more, his hands indulging in your soft tummy and ass, smacking the beautiful globes as Sukuna greedily laps at your cunt. You thought that the vibrator was intense? Sukuna’s mouth tops that by far. His soft lips and long tongue caress every single part of your pussy and clit, alternating between slurping at both, drinking you in like a starved man. 

It doesn’t take you long for another orgasm to rise to the surface, forcefully so. Sukuna can feel it in the way your pussy tightens around his moving, swirling tongue as Toji groans, plap-plap-plapping away at your mouth. “Hold it,” the pink-haired gangster growls, sending vibrations throughout your pussy. “Tell us you’re ours and you can cum. Don’t you dare fuckin’ disobey me.” 

Gasps and moans leave your lips, your fingers and toes curling at the pleasurable sensations and the sheer willpower it takes for you not to cum. “Tell us, mama,” Toji moans, tapping your chin with his fingers. “Tell us that this body is ours and we’ll make you cum as many times as you need to.” 

And you do. Goddammit, you do. You’ll do anything it takes to just cum. It is too much for your body to hold on and not release. “I’m yours!” you sob. “I promise I’m yours!” Your beautiful voice crying out for them both is enough to make both men stick their cocks in you and rail you until they fill you up. Finally, finally, you are allowed to cum after you commit the ultimate sin and sign of disrespect to yourself. “Do it,” Sukuna growls into your pussy. “Cum for me. Don’t deny me, V.” 

It takes a while to build, but once it does, it comes crashing down like a house of cards, washing over you. As your pussy cums into Sukuna’s waiting mouth, the gangster quickly tears himself away from you and slides his cock inside of you without warning. You let out a high-pitched yelp at the sudden stretch just as you are in the throes of your second orgasm. 

Sukuna leans down to nibble on your ear, his teeth catching your earlobe. “Gotcha,” he whispers. He grabs your hips, digging his nails in, and proceeds to slowly rock into you, giving you both a chance to get used to each other. Unfortunately for you, he feels good. Horribly, sinfully, disgustingly good. The way he stretches out the velvety, wet walls of your pussy and creates sloppy, squelching sounds whenever he thrusts add to the tingles of pleasure in your core that grow with every passing second. 

Sukuna grunts in your ear, overcome by how tight and wet you are. You grip him like a vice, tempting him to get closer by gripping your ass with one greedy hand while the other toys with one of your juicy, dripping tits. Toji watches on, pumping his cock with one fist in your face by your blindfolded eyes. “How’s she feel, man?” he asks, his tone husky and low. Sukuna’s hooded gaze briefly meets his before falling back down to your jiggling ass. “Fuckin’....fuck,” he groans. 

Toji tosses his head back and laughs as if that was the funniest shit he has ever heard. “I knew it was a good idea to stalk your pretty ass!” he guffaws, giving your ass a hard smack. Your brows narrow, confused by his statement. “What, you really thought us meetin’ at the same bar was a friendly coincidence?” he chuckles. “I’ve been after your ass ever since that night at the strip club.” 

Oh, no. OH, NO. 

“And when we started workin’ together, I knew it’d only be a matter of time till we met again,” Sukuna adds, wrapping a hand around your throat. “Ad now here we are.” He squeezes, causing you to let out a wheezed gasp as he sinks his cock in deeper, his balls slapping against your clit. “C’mon, fuck me back. You don’t get to just enjoy this shit. You’ve gotta work for it.” 

You do your best to rock yourself back, only causing him to fuck you harder. The sounds of his balls slapping your clit and your ass colliding with his thighs echoes throughout the hotel room along with your moans and his deep, guttural grunts. You’ve never been fucked like this before–so rough and ferocious. No man could ever fuck you and make you feel such a way or take you out of yourself. “Oh, my God!” you bellow, losing all composure. 

Sukuna chuckles, massaging your throat as he continues to plow your pussy just right, nailing that spot that makes you see stars over and over again. “Thanks, but not quite, baby,” he sniggers. “Guess the dick has got that brain goin’ stupid, huh?” 

Toji cackles, massaging his cock head against your soft, juicy lips. “Stupid is a nice look on her,” he comments, chuckling. “You look so pretty takin’ cock, sugar. Now isn’t this better than fightin’ in a dark alleyway?” 

You don’t respond. You can’t. The act of talking has completely left your brain as the man behind you fucks your pussy off of its hinges, rutting into you and grabbing your ass for leverage. His fingers dig into the flesh of your buttocks, the sting of it mixing with the pleasurable sting you feel from his cock repeatedly plunging in and out of you. 

You can tell that he is close when his moans start increasing, getting louder, and his cock starts swelling inside of you. “Take it,” he hisses into your ear. “Take this shit. Just like a good girl should.” And without warning, he finally blows his load inside of you with a loud moan that nearly triggers your own orgasm. You gasp as you feel a warm shot of his cum enter you, filling you up. 

Sukuna purrs–no shit, he actually purrs–as he nuzzles his face into your ear, nipping at your cheek with his teeth. “That’s a good girl,” he whispers, still softly groaning as the rest of his spunk escapes him and enters you.

Once exhaustion and post-nut clarity kick in, he slowly slides out of you, emitting a weak moan from both of you. His cum drips from your pussy and down your thighs, making them slick. Toji smiles at you, looking proud of your ‘accomplishment’.

“Not bad, baby,” he chuckles. “I was sure he fucked you out of your mind.” 

And he did. You are so dizzy, dazed, and disoriented that it feels like your head has been dunked underwater. Your eardrums are throbbing. You’re in need of air despite your lungs filling with it every time you inhale to catch your breath.

“Uncuff her,” Toji orders. “I wanna lay her down.” There is a pause, obviously because Sukuna is giving him a WTF look. “She’s not gonna go nowhere,” Toji scoffs. “The girl can’t even breathe!” 

And you can’t. The exhaustion is too intense to even think about an escape route. That is why you let Sukuna uncuff your aching wrists and ankles. And you let Toji lie you down on the floor on your back. You feel him on top of you, hovering over you. “Hey.” Tap-tap. You feel his hand lightly smack your cheek. “You good, baby?” he asks. “Talk to me.” 

Somehow, you find the willpower and energy to speak: “Y-Yes,” you stammer. The criminal is pleased. “Good. I need you alive and lookin’ at me when I fuck you.” Without another word, he snatches your blindfold off to allow you to see his face twist in ecstasy as he slides his hard cock inside of you. Your eyes squeeze shut as he fills you just as Sukuna had, stretching out your wet walls and tenderizing your cunt. You can’t take it. It’s too much. Your pussy is about to burst!

Toji grips your chin hard, damn near imprinting his fingerprints into your chin. “Look at me,” he demands, his handsome face flushed, black strands of his hair falling in his face. “You look at nothin’ but me while I fuck this pussy, got it?” You don’t answer. You can’t–not while he is slowly and deeply filling your pussy with his cock, plunging in and out of you, drawing weak moans and sobs out of your tired, aching body. 

Suddenly, Sukuna’s cock head is pressed against your lips as his hand wraps tightly around the base, pumping himself in your face. “Sorry, baby doll,” he chuckles. “Couldn’t help myself. Lucky for you, all you gotta do is lie there and take it.” He hovers above your head, his balls hanging down to lightly brush against your nose as he strokes himself away to the sight of Toji fucking you dumb in mating press. 

They use you. Take you. Break you. With every thrust of Toji’s hard, throbbing, pulsing cock, you know that you will never be the same. Toji digs his fingers into the flesh of your ass, fully mounted on you and drilling his cock into you. “Keep this shit up and you’ll make a very nice hitwoman for us,” he chuckles. “Maybe even our personal fucktoy. Wouldn’t that be a job!” 

Wouldn’t it? No responsibilities. No missions. You would just get paid to suck and fuck these two mobsters. You would just lie on your back, hike your legs in the air, and let them use your holes as much as they want to, day or night, rain or shine. Your job would just to be a slut for them. 

And so far, you’re doing a good job at that when you watch Toji’s face. His eyes roll to the back of his head, showing the whites of his eyeballs, as his thrusts become harder and fast paced.

“M’close,” he warns. “‘Bout to fill this pussy up. Make me cum, baby V.” You grip his forearms and hold onto him as he rails you harder, faster, making your tits and tummy jiggle with the force of his fucking. 

Finally, with a moan louder than Sukuna’s, Toji explodes inside of you, releasing rope after rope of cum inside of your pussy. You can’t help it: you cum too. Sparks of electric pleasure shock you from the inside out as your pussy tightens and flexes around the hard cock inside of you, drawing your third orgasm out of you. Seconds later, Sukuna gives a guttural groan and busts another load onto your lips, coating them in his spunk. 

“Taste me,” he demands. You open your mouth, allowing him to slip the head in and gently fuck your mouth, letting his cum settle onto your tastebuds. Meanwhile, Toji is pushing the rest of his load inside of you, soft grunts leaving his lips, quite possibly knocking you up…or maybe Sukuna did too? You don’t know. You can’t find it in you to care right now. 

Finally, Toji slows his thrusts and pulls his cock out of you, causing his cum to leak from your cunt and mix with Sukuna’s. He leans back onto his haunches, his toned body dripping in perspiration. “Consider yourself hired,” he pants. “You’ve convinced us well.” He gives you a smirk, a playful glint in his grey eyes. Sukuna chuckles, slipping his now-flaccid cock out of your mouth. 

You feel tired. Sticky. Achy. Used. You should ask where your clothes are and get out of here as fast as you can to avoid what will happen next. But the only thing in your head is how you need to be clean. “Can I use your shower please?” you rasp out. They are the first words that you’ve actually spoken in an hour since the sex began. 

The two gangsters give you a curious look, still kneeling before you, naked and coated in sweat. “Can ya walk?” Toji asks, raising an eyebrow. You slowly nod, standing on your own despite how unsteady and wobbly you feel. They watch you as you find your clothes and take them with you to the bathroom. You can feel their eyes burning into you as you go. Even when you close the door, you feel them staring. 

After digging into your jacket for your phone and setting it on the sink, you leave your clothes discarded on the floor and turn the shower on. The showerhead is the kind that has jets that remind you of rainforest waterfalls, steamy and fresh. You immediately step in and sigh, the hot water taking everything away–the sweat, the spunk, the exhaustion. All of what you just did gets swept down the drain. 

As you begin washing yourself with the lemongrass soap left on the inside, you hear your phone ding and you smile. Your smile only deepens as each second passes and you hear Toji and Sukuna talk among themselves outside the door. They have no idea. Not yet. 

And then you hear it. 

BOOM-BOOM-BOOM! 

You don’t flinch or jump or drop the tiny bottle of body wash. You know they are here. You were counting on it. “Who the fuck is that?!” Sukuna barks over the rushing water in your ears. 

“Police!” a loud, booming voice bellows from behind the hotel door. “Open up now or we’re kicking the door down!” 

The sound of running footsteps as the two criminals lose their shit makes you giggle as you continue to peacefully wash away. “Shhhhit!” Toji hisses. “Who the fuck called the fuckin’ cops?!” 

“I told you we couldn’t trust that bitch!” Sukuna angrily hollers. 

And then you hear a crash and splintering wood as the door comes crashing down. There is loud shouting. Booming footsteps. The cocking of guns. Thudding against the wall from possible fighting. “Toji Fusiguro and Sukuna Ryomen, you are under arrest,” one of the officers announces. 

With a smile, you shut off the running water and finally strut out of the bathroom, fresh and clean. You grab your phone and snatch up a rope left hanging on the hooks beside the shower, sighing at the soft fabric as it hits your skin and falls to your ankles. When you open the door, you are greeted by an officer in full gear already standing at the bathroom door, prepared to kick it down. “Are you V L/N?” he questions. 

You nod, calm and collected. “I am.” Even as the sight before you isn’t calm or collected: Sukuna and Toji are pressed to the floor on their stomachs, luckily semi-clothed…and very angry. Two officers are sitting on their legs, pinning them down as they handcuff them. Among the officers, you see C.O.D.E. agents checking out the scene, plastic gloves on their hands to avoid contaminating evidence.

When you and your boss lock eyes, you feel a rush of gratitude and like everything is going to be okay. “V!” he yells, immediately moving towards you. “Are you alright? How long were you here for? We lost track of you at some point.” 

You give him a smile, shaking your head. You are fine. You are more than fine. 

Slowly, you turn towards the two men who have been haunting and destroying your life for months lying helpless on the floor, cuffed and restricted. You kneel down in front of them and they follow your every move like you’re a crazed animal.

“You think you two were the only ones doin’ some stalking?” you ask, your voice cool and quiet. “I’ve been stalking you two for weeks now, using everything C.O.D.E. provided on you.” 

You watch as a light of realization flickers in Sukuna and Toji’s eyes. They had no idea and you were counting on it. When you left your agency that first day, you made sure to stop by the file room and snatch Toji’s file after keeping Sukuna’s with you. You studied them for weeks, including their locations, before you started doing your own research. 

And then started talking to guys who knew guys who knew other guys who knew Toji and Sukuna. You paid them, of course, for their time, and began following your targets. To different cities. Hotels. Restaurants. Clubs. Sitting in your unmarked car with the windows tinted. Pressed against buildings, straining to ear conversations. Sitting close enough to hear but not be so obvious or suspicious. Your skills as a hitwoman came in mighty useful hand. 

And then finally, when Toji ended up on your side of town, you knew the time to act was now. So you texted your boss your plan that very night and told him to keep track of you by your bugged phone. You kept the C.O.D.E. tracker on your phone for just this reason: to finally bag these two fuckers the way you should’ve months before. It has all come together. 

You stare each of them in the eye, willing them to see the finality of their situation in them. “You two are sloppy criminals,” you growl. “If you’re going to fuck a hit-woman, you should make sure that her phone isn’t bugged.” 

Toji blankly stares at you, giving you the impression that he may not have clearly heard you…but then he smiles. Really smiles, all of his pearly teeth shining at you. It is unnerving yet beautiful. As he is hauled up by two officers, he gives you a once-over, his grey eyes roaming over your body. “Not bad, babe,” he comments. “Not bad at all.” 

But Sukuna is way less appraisal or accepting. As the officers hike him up in his boxers, keeping hold on him because of how much he fights, he gives you a glare that is full of a thousand scalding fires that are painful and rageful. Not at all lustful or passionate. “You may have won this now, but it’s short-lived,” he hisses. “It’s only a matter of time until I get out and when I do, I’m comin’ straight for you. That’s a fuckin’ promise.” He practically spits the word at you, staring at you like you’re the enemy. 

You know you are. You knew that despite all of what they just did to you, you would be seen as nothing more than the villain in their story after all of this went down. So you play the part. With a small smirk, your shoulders back, and an unwavering, determined look as you stare into his crimson eyes, you answer him: “Don’t worry, Sukuna–I’ll be waiting.” 

The officers don’t wait for you to see Sukuna’s reaction. They haunt him and Toji off by their cuffed arms while four others keep their guns aimed at the two criminals in case they try something. You stand there in your robe, watching them as they are dragged away out of the hotel suite. 

Your boss lays a comforting hand on your shoulder, firmly squeezing it. “V, are you okay?” he worriedly asks. 

You turn to him and it feels as if for the first time in months, a weight has been lifted off of you. No more nightmares. No more urges. No more hauntings. You feel nothing but peace. Finally.

“I’ve never felt better, sir.”

THE END.  

[jokeringcutio]

ARTHUR HARROW X FTM READER - PART 2 (Doctor Harrow)

TWO: Summary: You meet Doctor Harrow, he introduces some new kinks to you. Continuation of: You’re part of Arthur Harrow’s community, but hold a special place. [ Part 1 here ] Arthur Harrow (Cult Leader) x FTM Reader. Rating: Explicit (Contains smut, Warning for dub-con, One-sided Breeding Kink from Harrow, talk about getting Reader pregnant, Praise kink, use of good boy, reader curses a few times (mostly damn) ). Words: 5785 Thanks to the wonderful supporter who commissioned this fic ♡

For: @apriltearsbringmayfears Tags: Older man x younger (ftm) reader, dub-con and consensual intimacy, praise kink, touching, kissing, explicit sexual content, bit of powerplay, you x the villainous cult leader, Doctor Harrow is messing about.

Your head was spinning, the world a blur of sterile white. White walls, white floor, even you were swallowed by the stark whiteness of the fabric encasing your body. An asylum patient's garb clung to you, the realization cold and sharp in your mind. You were a patient, trapped in a room that reeks of disinfectant and stripped-down sanity. The air was still, almost suffocating in its cleanliness.

"Good morning," came a calm, composed voice from across the room. You turned your head slowly, fighting the dizziness. There he was. Doctor Arthur Harrow, his hair shorter, slicked back in a mockery of casual sophistication. He sat behind a desk made of glass, aviator glasses perched on his nose. A small mustache curled above his lip, giving him an air of quiet authority.

Your eyes were instantly drawn to the cane that rested against the desk. His cane. But the crocodile heads were nowhere in sight. Instead, you saw a modern black cane with a golden accent and a white handle. No crocodile head. Just plain, clinical efficiency.

This wasn’t your Arthur.

He tapped a white, expensive-looking pen against the sides of his glasses and – to your shock- you noticed a golden gleaming ring on his ring finger. He seemed to trace your gaze and hummed, but said nothing.

Modern clothes clung to his frame, a crisp departure from the red cotton he usually favored. White books and little white trinkets adorned the colorless cabinets against the walls. It made you realize this could not be a real place. No one kept everything in white. Even the hearth, the tables, the chairs, everything lacked color except for a painting on the wall.

But the books. Their covers were all blank.

You knew where this place was. And that you weren’t the first to visit it.

"Doctor..." you whispered, the title tasting foreign on your tongue. You’d wanted to ask so many questions, but your throat felt dry. Memories swirled in the fog of your mind - fragments of a different life, a different Harrow.

"Yes, it's me," he said, smile faint but present. His eyes, hidden behind those reflective lenses, seemed to pierce through you. "I believe I know what your problem is."

You shivered, folding your arms tightly around yourself as if that could keep out the chill seeping into your bones. The room smelled of antiseptic and something else. Something metallic, almost coppery. Blood? No. Just your imagination.

"What problem?" you managed to ask, though the words felt insignificant. There wasn’t anything wrong with you. Not anything you weren’t aware of. "Why am I here?”

"Calm down," he replied, voice soothing but firm. "We're going to try something new. Something that could help you." The confidence in his tone was unshakeable, absolute.

Your heart could be heard pounding in your ears, chest heaving more rapidly now. What did he think was wrong with you? Arthur had always assured you that you were perfect to him. Surely, this mirror-version of him was lying – a fraud. Perhaps not so much a dream as a nightmare.

"Help me?" you scoffed, disbelief mingling with fear. "What are you talking about?"

"A new kind of therapy,” he said, leaning forward, his gaze never leaving you. That familiar smile tugged the corners of his lips. A smile you recognized from your Arthur. Oh, how you recognized that look. Kind, yet mischievous. He already had his mind set on something. Whatever it was, you weren’t going to change his thoughts.  

“A new treatment,” you echoed hollowly, mind racing.

"One that requires your complete trust and cooperation." The confidence in his voice was unwavering, a rock amidst the storm of your confusion.

You stared at him, your heart pounding a chaotic rhythm against your ribs. He seemed so sure, so calm. The sterile scent of antiseptic mingled with the faint hum of fluorescent lights above.

“Why?”

You swallowed hard, your throat dry. Questions clawed at your mind. What kind of therapy? Why you? And why did this all feel so disturbingly familiar?

"Trust me," he said, his voice low and hypnotic.

You crossed your arms over your chest, the thin fabric of the white patient outfit doing little to shield you from the cold.

"Why should I agree to this therapy?" Your voice came out sharper than you intended, slicing through the sterile air.

Doctor Arthur Harrow leaned back in his chair, unperturbed, a small smile playing on his lips. "Because you need it," he said simply, his tone smooth and confident. "Everything will become clear. You'll see."

"Need it?" You scoffed, feeling a surge of defiance. "Why should I trust you?"

"Trust is earned," he replied, his eyes narrowing slightly behind those aviator glasses. "We’ve already made such progress, haven’t we? I remember you’ve already put all your trust in me…”

And that caused a pang deep inside your chest because, with a start, you realized he was right. You’d come to trust your Arthur blindly. Fully. Your love for him has become irrevocably passionate and wild. A treasure you did not want to lose or abandon.

Trust Arthur? You already did with your whole heart.

But this? This man? He was not your Arthur. Of that you were sure. And defiantly you gazed at him, your own lips twisting in disdain. How dare someone, or some higher power, simulate the man of your desires?

"Faith," you muttered, tasting the word like poison. "My faith is reserved for one alone."

"And that’s a good thing," he said, leaning forward again, his gaze intense. "It is going to make my job so much easier.”

His words sent shivers down your spine, his voice full of dark promises that had you squeezing your thighs together and your cock throbbing to life. You silently cursed for getting aroused by this illusion of the man you loved.

"What job?” you asked, shaking your head and willing your erection to go down. Not that you were successful…"You keep saying these words, but they mean nothing."

"Words are powerful," he responded, his voice a gentle caress. "They can heal, or they can destroy. It's all in how you use them."

"You're not answering my question," you snapped, frustration bubbling to the surface. "Why me? Why now?"

"Why not you?" His answer was infuriatingly cryptic, his calm demeanor only adding to your agitation. "Aren’t the favorite disciple?”

There it was. Your eyes flew wide. A confession that made him sound more like the man you knew. Was he the same as your Arthur after all?

“And so you chose me for this new… therapy of yours?’

“Sometimes, the universe chooses us for reasons we can't understand," he continued, voice husky and low. Entranced, you watched his finger trace an imaginary circle on a blank paper on the glass table in front of him. The golden wedding band gleamed in the light.

Was it to symbolize his faithfulness to Ammit? Or to someone else?

To you?

Why were you hopeful?

"That's not an answer," you bit back, your pulse quickening.

"Maybe not the one you want," he conceded, his smile widening. "But it's the one you need."

"Need," you echoed, feeling the word coil around your mind like a snake. "What do you think I need?"

"To see the truth," he said, his voice dropping to a whisper. "To understand your own need, I will have to show you.”

While your mind was still racing  - running wouldn’t be of any help as there was no place to go – you heard the clicking of his heels as he rose from his chair and made his way around the desk.

Doctor Harrow came to stand behind you, his presence looming. You felt the warmth first, a heavy presence that crept over your shoulder. The air in the asylum office felt thick, almost suffocating. His hand had found your shoulder, firm but gentle. You tried to turn, to look at his hand, to see where he touched you, but the grip he had on you tightened. His fingers, strong and sure, pressed gently into your flesh through the thin fabric.

A silent warning.

"Shh," he whispered, voice low and soothing. It was a command wrapped in velvet.

You swallowed hard, nerves jittery. "What if I don't agree to the new therapy?" you asked, voice barely above a whisper. You knew going against his will was going to be a challenge.

Harrow's breath warmed the back of your neck. "You'll give in...eventually," he said, each word deliberate, measured. A strange sensation crawled up your spine, settling deep in your gut. His hand squeezed your shoulder, the pressure both reassuring and terrifying.

"Why are you so sure?" you managed to ask, heart pounding in your chest.

"Because," he murmured softly, his grip tightening just enough to make you wince, "I know how your mind works. I cracked the code and found the combination."

Harrow's hand slid from your shoulder, trailing down your spine. His touch was electric, igniting nerves you didn't know existed. You stiffened, feeling every inch of his presence behind you.

"Doctor, what are you doing?" Your voice quivered, barely audible.

"I’ve started your therapy," Harrow replied, his tone maddeningly calm. "This is part of it."

You shook your head, a weak attempt to muster defiance. "I didn’t agree to…"

"Shh," he interrupted, his fingers tracing the curve of your back, then moving around to your chest. "Trust me."

Harrow’s hand was under your clothes before you could react. His fingers traced a path of fire across your skin, each touch igniting something primal within you. Your breath hitched as he found the sensitive spot just below your navel, his thumb circling it with deliberate slowness.

"Doctor..." you gasped, but he silenced you with a finger to your lips. The gesture felt intimate, almost reverent, and yet there was an undeniable dominance in his eyes.

"Shh," he whispered, his voice a soothing purr. "Trust me."

The way he loomed over you felt dominating – as if he was crowding in on you. And then, it happened.

Before you could protest further, Harrow’s lips crashed against yours. The kiss was demanding, consuming, as if he sought to claim every breath you had. His mustache scratched your face, adding to the overwhelming sensation. Your mind screamed confusion, but your body betrayed you, melting into his touch.

His tongue explored your mouth with a hungry urgency, each movement calculated and intense. You felt his hands gripping your face, tilting your head to deepen the kiss. Time seemed to warp, seconds stretched into eternity. The world outside the asylum office ceased to exist. It was only Harrow. His taste, his scent, his heat.

When he finally pulled away, you gasped for air, your heart pounding like a drum in your chest. He looked at you, his blue eyes piercing through your defenses.

This was his therapy? You didn’t want to know how he treated his other patients.

You shivered as his hand moved lower, fingertips brushing against the waistband of your pants. He probably already spotted the bulge there, must have seen the signs of your arousal. Damn him. He took his time, savoring each second as if it were a ritual. The air thickened with anticipation, every heartbeat echoing like a drum in your ears.

Then, his fingers flicked over your bulge, the friction enough to make you gasp deliciously. With a swift motion, he gripped the back of your neck. Not painfully, but firmly, asserting control. The pressure sent a thrill down your spine, making you arch involuntarily into his touch. A smug smile slid on his face, the corners of his lips pulling up in that cocky smirk you loved to kiss away.

Harrow’s other hand tugged at your pants, pulling them down with practiced ease. The cool air kissed your exposed skin, sending a shiver through your body. Your cock popped out, kissed proudly by the cold office air.

"Doctor..." you breathed again, this time less a plea and more a surrender.

"Good boy," he murmured, his hot breath ghosting over your ear. His fingers stroked past your swollen cock, earning him another moan torn from your lips. “So eager,” he muttered. “So ready to please me.”

His hand moved up and down between your thighs, strong fingers teasing and exploring. You couldn’t help the moans that escaped your lips, your body responding eagerly to his touch. He knew exactly where to press, where to stroke, drawing out pleasure with expert precision.

"That's it," he coaxed, his voice velvet smooth. "Give your body what it wants. Let go."

Your head fell back, eyes fluttering shut as waves of sensation crashed over you. Each touch, each caress, brought you closer to the edge. His name became a mantra on your lips, a prayer offered up to this godlike figure who held you in thrall.

"Arthur... please..."

“Doctor,” he firmly corrected you. “Doctor Harrow,” and then he leaned over you again to bring his lips close to your ear. The rasped whisper was enough to bring you closer to your climax. “Or call me daddy, because that is the real issue here. Isn’t it?”

His words confused you at first because you didn’t call your Arthur that. But Doctor Harrow’s fingers moved so expertly, he had you crawling in your seat, back arched, legs trembling, body wrecked with desire. And yet he kept you pinned down by your shoulders, used his own body weight to keep you trapped in your seat as he assaulted you with pleasure.

Just his hand and his voice. You thought it was unfair that he could do this to you.

"You're doing so well," he praised, his voice thick with approval. "But you can do even better.”

The rustling of clothes and the absence of pressure indicated that he had moved. But only when his fingers left your cock did you open your eyes and actually look. Doctor Harrow limped around you and came to stand before you, with a serious and solemn expression. And then he sank to his knees, pushing your legs aside before pressing a hand flatly against your tummy, applying pressure to keep you there.

“Let’s just take this a notch further.”

His lips closed around your small cock and you were reeling. You tried to wiggle under his touch while he sucked and nipped. Your hands found his – shorter – hair and dug into it, tugging at the strands for leverage and a silent plea to let go.

“Don’t,” a hoarse moan. “Stop,” the voice was your own. But damn, this felt good. As did the smirk that you felt against your skin while he kept on sucking and nipping, using his mouth to bring you to the edge, ready to tumble over.

One hard suck – the slurping noise that accompanied it was embarrassing but oh-so-good. With a choked cry, you came undone, your body wracked with intense pleasure. Every muscle tensed, then released, leaving you trembling in the aftermath.

And still, he nipped and sucked until the last of the tremors faded and pleasure became sensitivity, bordering on pain if he didn’t let go and would overstimulate you.

Luckily, he let go of your cock with a loud pop on his lips. One last lick past your cock made you shiver – too much, your mind provided – but then he was done, rising to a standing position in front of you. He withdrew his hand slowly, almost reluctantly, as if savoring the last vestiges of your climax. And when you looked up at him, he was staring down at you intently, yet pensively. As if he was lost in thought.

"Good boy," Doctor Harrow praised you, his tone laced with satisfaction.

You were still catching your breath, glancing up at him. “Is the therapy over now?’ You cheekily asked, not caring if he would think you a brat for the tone of your voice.

Doctor Harrow pursed his lips, the frown above his aviator glasses deepened. “I’m sorry?”

“I asked,” you repeated, this time a little more agitated. He had sucked you off. You were done now, weren’t you? You could leave, right? “Are we done now?’

A pregnant silence filled the air between you.

“My dear boy,” he finally said after what felt like too long. “Why would you assume such a thing.” The way he stood, leaning against his desk, so carefree, so comfortable. It made you want to rage. How could he be so calm and collected?

“This is only the beginning.” And without a warning, Harrow closed the gap between you. You tried to stand up and struggled against his grip as he reached for your neck again. Your pants were still down between your ankles, making it hard to walk away.

Harrow's grip tightened around your neck, his fingers digging into your skin. With a swift motion, he pushed you forward. The cold surface of the glass desk met your chest, sending a shiver through your body. The sound of rattling glass filled the room, mingling with your ragged breaths.

"Stay still," he commanded, his voice firm yet dripping with affection.

You heard the zipper but were too busy trying to wiggle out of his grasp. You barely had time to register the command before he positioned himself behind you. His hands roamed over your exposed skin, greedy and unapologetic. You felt the blunt pressure, then the agonizingly slow slide as he entered you. Your breath hitched, pleasure mixing with pain.

"Doctor..." you gasped, the word spilling from your lips like a prayer. Another deep thrust. Luckily, your walls were slick from your previous orgasm, providing him easy access and an easy slide.

"Good boy," Harrow murmured, his voice heavy with desire. You felt his hips press fully against your ass, knowing that he was completely inside – as far as your body would allow – and suppressed a little gasp. Damn, this man felt good. Even if he wasn’t the real deal. He surely felt real.

A hoarse rasp in your ear, a dark promise: "I’m going to cure you."

The desk beneath you creaked ominously with each thrust, the glass threatening to give way under the force of your combined weight. But the sensation of him inside you drowned out any fear. Each thrust sent shockwaves of pleasure coursing through your veins, pushing you further into blissful abandon.

"Do you feel that?" he growled, his breath hot against your ear. "Do you feel how deep I'm inside you?"

"Yes, Doctor Harrow... oh god, yes," you moaned, your fingers clawing at the edge of the desk for support.

"Imagine," he continued, his pace relentless, each thrust deep and hard, "me filling you up, making you pregnant. Wouldn't you love that, my sweet boy? To carry my child?"

The words sent a jolt of forbidden excitement through you. The thought of bearing his mark, of being claimed so completely, was intoxicating.

"Yes," you cried out, the confession torn from your soul. "I want it... I want you."

"That's right," he praised, each word punctuated by a powerful thrust. "You're mine. Only mine."

The rhythm grew frantic, bodies slick with sweat, moving in perfect, chaotic harmony. His hands kept you pinned, his strength a constant reminder of his control. The eroticism of his power, his dominance, fueled your desire, driving you closer to another release.

You liked him like this, always had when he was in control. But him taking you so deep, so passionately… was he truly working you toward your second orgasm of the day?

Your body started to tremble around him, your own voice growing hoarse with each gasp, and cry, and moan.

“More,” he commanded, another firm thrust deep inside. Another echo of wet noises as he pounded you like there was no tomorrow.

"Say it," he demanded, his voice rough and commanding. "Tell me who you belong to."

"You," you screamed, as loudly as your breaking voice allowed you. Your body was twitching and trembling with pleasure. Thank Ammit you had the desk to keep you up because your own legs surely wouldn’t. It felt good, the truth breaking free in desperate gasps. "I belong to you, Doctor Harrow."

A few more firm thrusts. You were nearly there.

And then he paused.

You cursed, teeth gnashing as you tried to move your hips and ass to get some more friction. The glass felt cold against your erect cock, stimulating you – but not enough. Why had he stopped?

You heard the heavy swallow, the way he cleared his throat, then felt how Doctor Harrow leaned over you, cloaking your body entirely with his own.

The hairs of his mustache tickled your ear.

"See?" he whispered, his lips brushing against your temple. "I told you you'd enjoy the therapy."

Bastard.

You groaned loudly, moving your hips but groaning in disappointment when his hands kept you pinned down, unable to move up and down his shaft.

“Please,” you begged, voice hoarse. It was enough.

"Good boy," he echoed, his tone laced with triumph. "Let go again. For me."

He didn’t wait but started a fast pace, for which you were grateful. Each stroke was deep and hit that right spot inside that had your toes curled and your fingers grasping past the slick surface of the glass.

Your body obeyed, surrendering to the overwhelming tide of pleasure. Everything else faded away leaving only the raw, unfiltered connection between you and Harrow. Nothing else mattered.

You clamped down on his cock, earning the stuttering rasped groans in your ear that betrayed he was near as well. A few more deep thrusts and he followed. Warm, hot liquid poured deep inside while his hands held your hips pressed against the cold glass. Your body was throbbing, but so was his shaft as it emptied itself. You imagined the way his balls must be pulsing right now as they were drained dry completely by your deliciously tight cunt.

“Hmm, so greedy,” he murmured, as if he was reading your thoughts. He leaned a little backward, cock still locked inside you, so he could clap a hand firmly to the cheek of your ass.

You did a little yelp, your body scooting forward on the glass, and then tried to look at him from over your shoulder.

“Do you think it will take?” The doctor rasped, his blue eyes finding yours through the reflecting glasses. You felt the way his fingers pried your cheeks open, then slid lower until they pressed inside your cunt, joining his cock.

“You think you’re going to make me a daddy, sweetheart?”

He slowly retracted his cock and seemed to watch how slick seed came dripping from your hole. Holding his cock in his hand, he used his half-hard shaft to rub past your sensitive lips, pushing the semen back in with the tip.

You closed your eyes and allowed him to play with you, your body tired from a second climax and your breath still rapid and uneven.

You felt him push the head of his cock inside you, dipping in and out – almost experimentally – a few times. Then he retracted and the warmth of his body was gone.

"Up," Harrow commanded, his voice a rough whisper against your ear.

You barely had time to register the word before he pulled you to your feet. His hand remained firm around your neck, guiding you as he maneuvered behind you. The cold air hit your back, stark in contrast to the heat of his body. He turned you to face him, eyes blazing with an intensity that made your heart race.

"That's it," he murmured, as he held you close, his touch almost tender despite the intensity of what had just transpired.

Finally, he stepped back, leaving you feeling strangely empty without his presence. You noticed the limp when he walked. At least that hadn’t changed. But the half-hard cock you had expected to go limp was curling up proudly again, tipping against Harrow’s stomach as he limped to the other side of the desk. Wait? What?

You groaned, taking a few deep breaths while you watched him lowering himself into his chair with a grace that belied his years. He sat there, pants discarded, watching you with a calm, expectant gaze.

You stood there, catching your breath, the silence stretching out between you. What did he want from you?

"What are you waiting for?" he asked, his voice barely above a whisper. "Sit on me." His tone was gentle but firm, laced with the promise of more to come. You knew that even if you had wanted to, you could not disobey him.

And a third time? Well, what was one more? Even if this wasn’t your Harrow, he surely was a good fuck. You wouldn’t look a gifted horse in the mouth.

With trembling legs and a racing heart, you moved closer, your skin still tingling from the last wave of pleasure. You discarded your pants fully, even taking the time to take off the rest of your asylum garb until you stood fully naked.

Harrow's eyes were on you, unwavering, his gaze a mix of command and invitation. His hands rested on the arms of the chair, fingers tapping lightly against the metal as if to a rhythm only he could hear.

"Come here," he urged softly, his voice a low murmur that sent shivers down your spine.

You straddled him, knees at either side of his waist. The warmth of his body pressed against yours was intoxicating. Slowly, you lowered yourself onto him, feeling him fill you once more. A squelching sound accompanied the movement, as combined slick from you and Doctor Harrow’s semen paved the way for his hard cock to slide deep inside. A gasp escaped your lips, the sensation almost overwhelming.

"That's it," he whispered, his hands finding your hips, guiding you. "Just like that."

And it was just like that. You preferred this position more, the way your cock rubbed past him, the friction, it was all so much better than the cool glass table had been.

You began to move, the rhythm slow at first, savoring every inch of him within you. He had grown hard again, his cock throbbing and pulsing inside your narrow cunt. Each rise and fall brought a fresh surge of heat, a deep ache of pleasure that built with every movement. His grip tightened on your hips, encouraging, guiding, coaxing you to go faster.

"Good boy," he praised, his voice thick with satisfaction. "You're perfect. Could only be better swollen with child."

The words spurred you on, driving you to quicken your pace. The room seemed to fade away, leaving only the two of you, bound together in this intense dance. Sweat slicked your bodies, the sound of your mingled breaths filling the silence.  

"Arthur," you gasped, your hands gripping his shoulders for support. "I'm close."

"Then let go," he commanded, his voice a low growl. "Show me how much you need this."

The coil of pleasure wound tighter within you, threatening to snap. You rode him harder, faster, each thrust pushing you closer to the edge. His hands roamed your back, caressing, encouraging, sending sparks of electricity through your veins.

"Come for me," he ordered, his tone brooking no argument.

Your body obeyed, the release crashing over you like a tidal wave. You cried out, his name a prayer on your lips, your vision blurring as ecstasy consumed you. He followed soon after, his own release a powerful surge that left you both trembling.

"That's it, my love," he murmured, holding you close, his breath hot against your ear. “Let me stuff you nice and full. Think of all the cum. Make me a dad.”

He stroked your back gently, the touch tender and soothing. You melted into him, feeling safe, cherished. Even if he wasn’t your Arthur. Nothing else mattered.

“We have made such good progress, haven’t we?” he whispered, his lips brushing against your temple.

“Progress?’ you asked, blearily. You felt as if your body could take no more, yet he started to gently thrust inside you again.

“One more time,” he said, but you were already shaking your head.

“No.”

“Come on, we have made such good progress,” he moved you up and down his shaft shallowly, but your pussy was oversensitive and each thrust felt like it was too much. You flinched, trying to push him away, but his hand found your cock and flicked against it. You recoiled, back arched, and let out a cry.

“Fuck, I can’t,” you gasped, still struggling in his grip. “It’s too much.”

But as Harrow gently pounded your sore cunt, the world around you seemed to crumble away until everything faded. Even the feeling of being fucked raw.

You sat up and instantly winced. Your body felt sore, pussy even sorer. As if you truly had climaxed three times.

You rubbed your head, eyes slowly getting used to the daylight that already filtered into the room. That was when you noticed him.

Arthur Harrow sat on the edge of your desk, his shoulder-length hair cascading around his face, worry etched into his features. The morning light streamed through the window, casting long shadows that danced eerily across the floor. You’d almost thought he wasn’t real, but then he moved.

"Good morning," Arthur said softly, his voice a soothing balm against your frayed nerves. He leaned forward, the creak of the desk cutting through the silence. "You missed breakfast so I came to have a look. See if you’re all right."

Your mouth felt dry as sandpaper, and you licked your lips, trying to find your voice. "I..."

"It’s all right," he interrupted gently, holding up a hand. "I brought you something." He gestured to a tray beside him, laden with fruit, toast, cheese, and a steaming cup.

The disorientation clawed at your mind, the lines between dream and reality blurring. You stared at the food, your stomach twisting in knots. "Why?"

"Because I care about you," he replied, his gaze unwavering. Those bright blue eyes bored into yours, filled with an earnest concern that made your heart ache.

"Was it... real?" you muttered, the words barely audible.

"Dreams can feel very real, can't they?" Arthur's lips curled into a small, knowing smile. He pushed the tray closer to you. "Eat. You'll feel better."

You slowly got out of bed, unperturbed about Arthur seeing you like this. He’d seen you in worse states.

You reached for the toast, your hands trembling. The memory of Doctor Harrow's touch still lingered on your skin, ghostly and persistent. You took a bite, the crunch loud in the otherwise quiet room.

"Was it another nightmare?" Arthur asked, concern etching lines across his face.

"Something like that," you admitted after swallowing, unable to meet his gaze. Instead, you focused on the tray of food, absently picking at the toast.

"Talk to me," Arthur prompted gently, his voice a soothing balm that eased some of the lingering tension within you. "What happened in the dream?"

“You were there,” you finally confessed, still confused about everything that had just happened.

"I was?" He asked, his voice low and steady. Arthur's blue eyes bore into you, steady and unwavering, as if trying to decipher the secrets hidden within your soul. Your heart pounded in your chest, the lingering effects of the dream making it difficult to distinguish between reality and fantasy.

You hesitated before speaking, the weight of the dream heavy on your tongue. "It was you," you began, your voice trembling slightly. "But not you. You were a doctor, in an asylum."

A flicker of surprise crossed Arthur's face, his brows knitting together as he processed your words. "A doctor, huh?" His voice was steady, but you could see the wheels turning behind those piercing blue eyes. "And what did this doctor do?"

You hesitated, a shiver running down your spine as you remembered the way Doctor Harrow's hands felt on you, the controlled strength in his grip. "He… he was...helping me, or at least, that's what he claimed." The words tumbled out in a rush, a confession burning your lips as you spoke. "But it didn't feel like help. It felt like control."

Arthur's hand tightened on your arm, a protective gesture that sent warmth flooding through you. "Did he touch you?”

“Oh yes,” you didn’t know why you confessed so easily, but once you looked up it was to see Arthur’s eyes darken menacingly. “Said it was this new therapy he wanted to try, Was supposed to help me with something, but it only ended with him telling me he wanted to see me carry his baby. It was really weird.”

You finally finished, taking your time to catch your breath and think. In the meanwhile, you studied him. Your Arthur.

"In the dream,” he began, eyes unfocused. “I was... obsessed with becoming a father."

He hesitated, gauging your reaction.

“You sure were. Or well, he sure was,” you clicked your tongue and picked up another piece of toast. Orgasming three times had made you hungry.

"Interesting," Arthur murmured, his expression inscrutable. "And how did that make you feel?"

"Confused," you admitted, mouth full, frowning. "I don't understand why he would tell me that."

"Perhaps there's a reason," Arthur suggested, leaning forward in his chair. "Dreams can be windows into our deepest desires and fears. Maybe this is something you need to explore further."

"Are you saying that I should try to get actual therapy?" You asked, skepticism lacing your words.

"Not quite," Arthur replied, his voice soft but firm. "Trust your instincts."

You sighed, running a hand through your hair. The idea of delving deeper into Doctor Harrow's fixation unnerved you. And the way your Arthur reacted to your dream had left you puzzled. Did he know there was a dream version of him lingering around? Could he influence it? Hadn’t it just all been inside your head? Because you’d been pretty certain Ammit and the other Gods loved to use familiar faces and an asylum room to bring their messages across.

"I’m hungry now,” you said, reluctantly. "I just want to eat.”

"Good," Arthur smiled, his eyes warm and reassuring. "I will leave you be. But just remember, I'm here for you, no matter what."

"Thank you," you whispered, your throat tight with emotion.

You watched as Arthur stood and made his way to the door, the familiar crunch of glass beneath his feet a constant reminder of his devotion. His silhouette framed by the doorway, he paused and glanced back at you, his eyes filled with an emotion that you couldn't quite place. Then he was gone. ~ * ~

[theshiftingworkshop]

I got an absolutely STUNNING commission from the one and only @bonkalore of my darling @territorial-utopia 's ocs T and Lovia!!!

(If you wanna follow their story project, which you absolutely SHOULD, make sure to follow @dragons-lair-web-series !!!!!)

[itz-pandora]

OC x Canon comic my friend commissioned from me!

[bogkeep]

deep sea creature commission for @yonah952 !

[marcheriest]

recent wol commission for my friend @bumofthewild