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madamechrissy · 5 months ago

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Pour it Up

Pairings: Stripclub Owner Sukuna x Stripper F!reader

Summary:- You are a single mother, your baby daddy is not just worthless, he also is actively trying to sabotoge you, so you go out on your own and raise your kid by yourself. Struggling your ass off, a friend of a friend named Toji decides to offer you a hell of a deal, a few hours a night at a strip club to make BANK. While there, you meet the other owner, Sukuna, and the moment he sees you? You annoy him how beautiful you are, how much he wants you, pushing him to insanity. He knows he must have you- no matter whose ass he needs to beat.

Warnings:- reader is a mom, lowkey/highkey Yandere Sukuna behavior (He's obsessed- down bad) recreational drug use, drug dealing Sukuna (the club lowkey a front lol) Mafia ties, EXPLICIT sexual content, fluff/smut AND light angst- violence, some former trauma of reader. This part- SO MUCH SEX, so much whipped Kuna lol Oral sex (Female receiving) fingering, marathon sex, multiple positions, mating press, creampie, cum eating, shower sex, tummy bulge, spitting, dirty talk (Kuna says slut and whore) - WC-6.9k

Based on Stripclub Owner Sukuna - will be six or more parts-I HIGHLY recommend the playlist (At least on the club scenes) That mobster art in the banner is by Sketch B on X- LINK

<<<Part two - Playlist - Masterlist - Part Four>>>

Part Three

‘You’re getting no sleep tonight’

Sukuna’s big, expensive jacket falls down, pooling at your ankles, before he turns you, unclasping your bra and leaving brutal kisses along your neck, your shoulders, nipping and licking while your head falls to the side, allowing him more access. Your breasts are heaving up and down while his hands slip down your panties, and finally he’s unbuckling your heels.

When he does you’re so ridiculously tiny next to this giant of a man it’s laughable, everyone really is, but the thrill of it just excites you more, as your head falls back to look at him, and your fingers are unbuttoning so fast they shake. He chuckles, “That excited huh?”

“Shush.” Is all you manage, but you are, so curious to the muscle you can feel against you, slipping off his shirt then and biting your lip at how gorgeous his body actually is.

Rippled muscles, tattoos running down his neck to his chest, his abdomen, black lines that just enhance the lines and cuts of his abdomen. Your hands touch his thick chest, well formed pectoral muscles tensing as you trail your fingers down, each rippling abdominal, until you find a line of dark hair under his belly button, and you hear his breath catch.

“Sukuna, you're kind of beautiful.”

“Kinda what now? Did I already lick your lil head dumb?” You laugh softly, shaking your head at him, pressing a kiss on his chest. “Shit…” He moans out, hand enwrapping in your hair.

You expect more taunts or teases, but he’s just watching you intently, sooty pink lashes lowering, as you unzip his pants, sliding them down, and then reach his black boxers and pull the waistband. His thick, heavy cock comes into your view, your pussy is throbbing around literally nothing, picturing just how this will fit.

Precum is smeared along his tip, his piercing, and your eyes shoot up to watch his cheeks dusted pink, you smile just a bit. “Are you blushing, Mr. Sukuna?”

“Blushing? Tch…” He scowls at you now, before you know it you’re swooped up in his arms, as his blushing tip of his cock lines up with your drooling hole, and you’re whining out, pussy soaking him, he feels your heat and damn near cums from rubbing on it. “Pathetic.”

“Hmm?” You mumble.

“You’re pathetic for me, aren’t you?” You just nod weakly, but Sukuna may or may not be talking about himself, he’s pathetic for you.

You’re more than ready from him drinking you up in the car, but you’re so tight, and he’s so thick it’s stupid, those nine inches just barely pressing in as the cool wall is flush on your back, pressing against your shoulder blades, while your front is pressed on Sukuna. You’re trembling as you try to take any of him as all, just the tip has you spasming.

Sukuna thought he could handle you, he thought he’d fuck you so good against this damn wall, slam your cervix as he holds you up against this wall, but the moment he’s inside you? The moment your slick walls suck him in, and your walls are fluttering around just the tip he’s inserted in your sticky, gooey little pussy, the moment your eyes shoot up to his, and your lips part?

Sukuna is ended.

You end him to the point he pauses, used to rough sex and pummeling a pussy, drilling like he’s made for it, instead his breath catches, and he’s resting his forehead on yours for a moment, while you cling to him tightly. He feels your manicured nails pressing into his biceps, your thighs trembling, cunt dripping as you try to take any of him at all.

Your breaths mix, yours is so sweet it intoxicates him, pushing in just a little more, seeing if you can take it, and fuck you try to, but he’s so thick it burns, you can barely cling to him for any sense of reality. You look up at ruby red eyes, your mouth open in a cry as he pulls back, pushing even further in, one hand leaving your ass as he presses you into the wall.

His other hand comes to grip yours, fingers entwining over your head, your hand is engulfed in his huge one, you feel so tiny in his hold, in his arms, wrapped around this thick, veiny cock you’re trying to take. Your breaths come quicker when he holds your hand, when he pauses, when his eyes get lidded, pupils shrunk to pinpoints, making the rubies that are his eyes even more intense.

“Fuck…” Is all he manages, his heart beating in his chest, pounding against the softness of your breasts, as something just clicks, something snaps all at once, swirling his mind, looking at your pretty face, the tears in your eyes. “Too much, brat?” He huffs, trying to act calm, like he’s not losing it for you.

You take a shaky breath, crying out when he presses deeper, you feel him everywhere, his cock so deep inside you, feel him in your tummy, god you feel him in your head. It’s overwhelming, as he clutches your hand so tightly, the things you feel already for this man are far beyond his dick, his hands, his lips, it’s how he’s looking at you, how he’s holding your hand.

You shake your head, reaching one hand to cup his face then, making him feel far too much, so much he swallows, feeling nerves that a man like him shouldn’t, god you make him feel like some high school idiot. If he was a more romantic man he’d write some poems or shit, but he sure wasn’t going that far, but it takes everything to hold in words that are threatening to spill.

Foolish words.

He’s pussy drunk off three thrusts, then by four you’re whining out his name- “Sukuna!” And he’s done for.

He kisses you brutally, hands back on your ass, pounding inside your slick heat as you bite on his neck, making him hiss, your nails scratching at his back when his drooling tip kisses your cervix. “F-fuck… biting me, huh brat?” He manages to huff, and you just whimper, head falling back as he fucks into you more and more, the wet sounds filling his empty penthouse.

He’s maddened by you, how good you feel, as you feel the stretch, feel your pussy trying to accommodate him, and he’s pressing in, rolling his hips just so, pulling back to watch as your face contorted in pleasure. “There you go, cum for me, like a perfect lil’ slut, huh?”

You nod weakly, sniffling as he presses you even closer, you feel the pressure building, as his piercing hits something so good, and you’re tightening around it, screaming out. “Y-yes, yes, I’m gonna- ah!”

“That’s it, f-fuckin’ feel you.” He huffs, strong muscles tensing as you convulse around his cock.

How can he even handle you if in a few thrusts you’re trying to milk his cock for everything!?

“Oh my god, mnh!” He’s pushing off the wall now, carrying you to a sleek leather couch, where he pulls out, cock already dripping precum, mixing with your soaking wet arousal. He turns you and slips a hand to your clit, you’re whining at the loss of his cock, as you drip down his fingers. “Please, back in.”

“So needy already, huh?” He’s needy for you though, as he presses you down, arching your pretty ass up and groaning at the sight. “Fuck, look at that.” He smacks your ass, each cheek bouncing for him, before spreading them, guiding his thick cock back inside.

“Yes, please, please… ah!” You’re shuddering when he’s pulling your hair at the nape of your neck, sinking back in so deep, piercing on his cock hitting just that spot as the tip drags along your walls, and you’re gripping at the couch as he bends you further, arching your ass up for more.

“Feel her, so fuckin’ perfect, pussy is just made f’me, huh?” You nod weakly as he fucks into you, rougher now, acting as if the moment before wasn’t so intimate that he almost cried sliding in for the first time.

Nothing feels as good as you.

You can’t find a coherent word to respond when black painted nails press into your hips, and he’s starting to fuck you, and fuck you harder than you’ve ever had, you’re barely able to take his thickness, his length, as it slams your cervix over and over. You try to catch a breath, drool spilling out of your mouth as heavy balls slap against your clit, as his pelvis smacks your ass over and over.

“Didn’t hear you answer me.” He huffs, smacking an ass cheek now, grinning ferally at your whine, as your pussy clenches him even tighter.

“Wh-what was the q-question?” He’s leaning so his lips press against your ear, tickling you, making your tummy tense as he sinks inside so deep.

“That pussy, is it made f’me?” He asks again, and you nod, earning a gentle slap on the face. “Use those words.”

“Made for you.” Sukuna’s lost in you then, in how good you feel, in your every cry and moan, his own eyes rolling back in the ecstasy that was your slutty, squishy little pussy, before making himself focus, because he can’t miss looking at you like this.

Arched up and perfect, he pauses just a moment, taking a breath as your walls grip him like a vise. “Gripping me so greedy, shit baby.” He mumbles, as you both gasp for a breath.

“Mnh! S’good I- f-fuck, Sukuna…” Sukuna groans out loud, the wet slaps louder and louder as he loses control, loses himself, urged on by how your body shakes, how he sees a little trail of drool right on the side of your jaw, since when did he notice shit like this!?

You’re ruining him with every stroke, all he can think of is making you cum again and again, have you cum so much it makes up for years of you not, and he slams in, rolling his hips again, watching you shudder, thighs shaking as you start gushing around his cock, making a sticky mess. “That’s it, slutty pussy so greedy hmm?”

You weakly nod, as he now feels your aftershocks, gripping two of your wrists together behind your back and fucking you harder, propping your ass up even higher on the arm of it so your legs are just dangling there. He props a knee up even high, hitting some angle that blinds you. “Ah!”

“Gonna fuck every worry outta that pretty lil’ fuckin’ head.” He huffs, bending low over you, wrapping an arm around your waist just to sink impossibly deeper, stuffing as much of his cock in you as he can fit, a creamy ring forming at the base of his cock the more he strokes. “F-feel s’good, fuck… perfect pussy, y’know that?” You shake your head weakly, and he sighs, letting go of your wrists then.

You’re like some little ragdoll to him the way he picks you up, the way he moves you, now slipping his cock out of your pussy and carrying you again, all you can do is cling to his naked body, eyes fluttering in and out of focus. He plops you down on that bed of his, you errantly notice it’s huge, a four post bed that’s covered in black and silky sheets and blankets.

You also notice a sex swing, thinking what the fuck, and you also see some crazy X on the wall, there are whips and all sorts of things, he chuckles as you eye them, cupping your face with his big hands, strong body leaning heavy weight over you. “I’m not using any of this shit on you, brat, stop freaking out.”

“I… it’s okay if you do like that, but I don’t know about-”

“Shh.” He kisses you deeply then, you feel too much, far too fucking much for this man. “Ignore the swing, innocent little thing huh?”

“Not even.” You glare at him, but he’s grinning and shaking his head, watching as he rubs that tip between your swollen folds.

“Having more than enough fun with this soaking little pussy, don’t need anything else right now.”

The insanity of his room melts, as he looks at you, really looks at you, and you drag him down for another kiss, pussy already sore and aching but you want so much more of him, you want everything. When he’s pulling back and smirking, a huge hand on your tummy, you look down and see it, this bulge of his cock.

“F-fuck… look at that, fucking you up, huh brat?” He huffs, slowly moving it, so obscene you’re blushing, then gasping out as he presses your legs up high, folding you in half under him, hitting even deeper now, your hips are bucking back at it, how deep he is, how full you are. “Ah-ah, don’t run now.”

“Too much. Too big.” He’s moaning as he eases your thighs down just a bit, instead hooking one over an elbow.

“Brat can’t take dick huh?”

“Sukuna… y-you’re a-”

“I’m a what baby?” He’s slamming his cock so deep you scream, soaking him further, hands gripping the silken material under you, head falling back as he grips your hips bruisingly.

“You’re too much, mmm.” You whimper out, he laughs softly, leaning over you again, pulling out just to slam his length back in, and then your eyes hit his, and he can’t take how beautiful you are.

“Drooling, huh slutty girl?” He cooes, swiping at your face, you just moan, as he slips his thumb between your lips, you’re slobbering all around it as he fucks faster and faster, slamming and pressing you even deeper into the firm mattress, taking over all of your senses, it’s all Sukuna, when he finally slows, kissing down your throat and biting hard.

“Ah!”

“Mmm, ya taste good everywhere.” He’s groaning as he buries his head in the crook of your neck, as one of your hands entangle in his silky hair, and the other grips the taut muscles of his back. “Feel her squeezing me, fuckin’ milking me, f-fuck…”

“Sukuna, m’gonna cum again, ngh!” You’re whining, so overstimulated, when he uses one elbow to brace himself, the other hand slipping between you as pinches your little clit, you scream so loud your voice is hoarse.

“That’s it, can’t help yourself hmm? Gonna cum again, so easy?”

“For you… easy for…” Your vision goes black as you gasp out for any sort of breath, and he’s rolling his rough finger right on it. “S-sensitive!”

“Cum again, lemme feel her, shit- mmm.” You’re gushing and pulsing, you hear the sounds now, how wet you really are, mixed with his moans as he watches your pretty face while you cum, knowing he could never get tired of the sight. “There you go, good girl.”

You’re lost again, clinging to him and crying tears, he thinks how pretty they look coming down your cheeks as he is getting close, your walls clamping down with the force of your orgasms. “C-can’t take m-more…”

“You can, baby, hah don’t tap out yet.” He’s grinning all insane when he leans over you fully, bodies flush, your legs wrapped around his thick waist, squeezing against him as he slows finally, just a bit, letting you catch a breath, both of your eyes locking again. “Do I gotta get a morning after pill?”

You catch his meaning, blushing furiously, as he slides out slowly, almost to the tip, before shoving back in to get your attention. “Wh-what?”

“Birth control, brat, I’m not pulling out. Wanna paint your pretty insides with all my fuckin cum.” His words are filthy, he’s filthy, but you want it then, crave it, he watches how your eyes glitter, how your lips part, smirking down at you. “Ya want it, don’t you? Me to fill up your slutty pussy hah?”

“Please… no need for… a-after pill, m’on the p-pill, f-fuckkt…” It’s impossible to focus when he’s fucking you harder now again, smirking down as he knows he’d bust in you regardless.

“Gonna fill you up s’fucking good, gonna drip my cum out as you’re dancing, for men who can never fucking have you.” You’re just a mess now, incoherent when he shoves your legs over his shoulders and pummels you, the loud slap slap slap echoing in his slutty, freaky ass room, along with your pathetic little cries.

“Please… cum in me…” Your words are it for him, he’s pressing inside, and you hear it then, that whimper you heard sucking him, as his eyelashes flutter and those muscles tense, a drip of sweat slipping down to the base of his cock as he thrusts in once more so deep, in your damn cervix, and he starts to fill you, flooding you with ropes of his hot cum.

“Oh my f-fucking… feel s-so…” Sukuna’s slamming his lips down on yours, something he just doesn’t do, as he busts inside your slick walls, his cock pulsing more and more of that gooey cum all in you, moaning against your lips. “She’s so greedy, she w-wants every drop, mmm.”

You’re just shaking as he fills you, back lifting off the bed as his arm wraps you, yanking you further down his dripping cock, pumping you so full you feel it in your stomach, you’re clinging to him as he drinks your cries. He’s kissing you over and over, messy, sloppy, desperate as your muscles are spasming, pushing his own cum down his cock with the force.

“Never felt something that good, jesus fuck…” He’s groaning, biting at your lower lip, resting his forehead for a moment and feeling far too intimate, even more intimate than his cum filling your warm pussy.

“Mnh… It’s so much…”

He laughs a bit, breathless, kissing you again before easing back finally, looking at the marks from his teeth, his fingers, his hands all over your pretty body. He exhales, running his fingers down your thighs, watching goosebumps rise, watching you twitch and jerk.

“S-sensitive…”

“Are you now?” You nod barely, as he kisses down your neck, tongue lapping at the little drops of perspiration from your skin as you whimper, and he finally pulls his cock out, looking down at it. “What a mess we made, huh pretty little slut?”

“Mnh, d-did we?” Your room is spinning, and he’s grinning as he pulls back, watching the sloppy, sticky mess pour down his perfect bedding. “Oh! Oh…”

“Yeah oh, you’re cute.” He chuckles at your narrowed eyes, leaning up on your elbows as he fingers at the sticky cum all over your cunt. “She’s so puffy, hah look at this.”

“Sukuna… w-what are you doing!?” He’s shoving your thighs up high, grinning.

“Hold em up.”

“Why!? We just… mnh!” Sukuna is lapping his own cum right out of your pussy, you’re so overstimulated you’re crying, hiccuping as you yank at that pink hair, his huge hands taking over your ass, your thighs as they threaten to close.

“Taste us together, god.” He’s groaning as he laps up and scoops his own cum that’s just pouring out of your hole with that long pink tongue, making his cock that was satiated twitch again with need for you, as your thighs are squishing his head, earning his scowl. “I said, keep em open.”

“C-can’t, what even are you Sukuna?” You whisper breathless, thinking he’s some sort of demon as he’s chuckling against a puffy little cunt, leaning and forcefully shoving your thighs apart.

“Wanna taste us, brat?” He whispers, and you pause your squirming, breasts heaving with the effort it takes to take him.

“Yes.”

He moans, scooping more of his own cum out of your pussy, his taste buds brushing on your walls before he leans up, gripping your chin and putting two fingers to your lips, opening your mouth. Your tongue hangs out as he spits then, all his cum mixing with his saliva as it drips down in a filthy string into your open mouth, your eyes widen at it, your pussy clenching again.

“Swallow, now.” He orders, and you eagerly do, making him moan, saliva still dripping just a bit from his plump lips, which turn up, he now kisses you, swapping his cum between your tongues, and you’re gripping him with your little fingers, whining. “Remember I told you to eat?”

“Y-yes…” You manage, swallowing his salty sweet cum down, lashes lowering as you study his tongue swiping across his tongue so lewd and sexy, just making you ready again.

“You’re really gonna wish you listened.” You blink before he’s got you flipped to your hands and knees, and you feel the piercing tickling your slit, your clit, you whine out at it, head falling forward as your body is shaking.

“Again- already!?”

“How pathetic was that lil’ bitch you were with?” He practically growls then, spreading your ass cheeks and pussy lips open to peer at you, all red and beat up, just making his sticky cock harder. “Never went back to back?”

“What even is that, I- oh my god.” Sukuna’s not just easing in this time, no he’s slid all the way in your entrance, bottoming out and stuffing you full, you cry out, head buried in the blankets, as his thumbs press into the dimples of your back.

“You think once is enough for me? Of this? Of you? Oh, fuck no, need more and more of this.” He’s slamming into your cunt, hitting even more angles as your ass archess, one of his hands sliding up to wrap in your hair, pulling it until your back is curved, and your head falls back. “Can’t get enough of you.”

His words along with his cock fuck every thought out of your head, just like he said, as he has you on your knees, one hand now wrapping your throat, and your head turns to look at him, vision fading in and out.

“Want it?” He asks gruffly, as he squeezes your throat. You nod weakly, and his ruby eyes light up. “Trust me?”

“I do trust you.” You whisper, he pauses for a moment, thinking of more words he’d love to hear, to say, but then he’s sinking into your heat, moaning and laying you on your tummy, prone over you.

“Gonna be all me, huh perfect little whore? All me?” You whimper as he takes you over, hooking one leg across yours and sinking impossibly deep, squeezing your throat, you’re lightheaded, you’re floating. He’s whispering in your ear, “All me, all mine, no one’s gonna fuckin’ touch you.”

You can’t imagine wanting anything else, you’re weak as you nod, as he squeezes your oxygen from your little neck with his big hand, his long fingers, sinking into your pussy so deep you can’t tell where you begin and he ends. It is all him, all Sukuna, as he chokes you, as he fucks you, as he kisses you, moaning as you’re cumming all over his cock again.

“Mnh- f-fuck… can’t help yourself, can you?” He’s gruffly talking shit, but as he feels you tighten again he’s close to cumming all over, he releases your throat, seeing your reddened face, kissing you again all sloppy. Your teeth click, tongues dripping down, while he’s crying out. “Want more inside you? Me to fill you till you can’t even fuckin walk?”

“Please!” Your little cry destroys him, he’s cumming in you like this so fucking intimate, kissing you as he fills your pussy again, pushing his cum up and inside your pussy further.

Sukuna was not kidding about no sleep, despite him not putting you in the sex swing or handcuffing you- yes there is an entire cuffing system for his bed- no, he’s having more than enough fun using your pretty body. Every position, several rounds of cum stuffing in your pussy, until he finally allows you a water break, and you truly can’t stand, he has to hold you up.

He’s laughing as you gulp down water, body shaking still, so weak from how much he’s fucked you, more than maybe you’ve ever fucked in a year in the matter of hours. Your hand is so shaky the water slips off the sides, making him have to take the cup from you, his hand cupping your face, putting the glass to your lips.

“Little brat can’t function?” He hums, you sigh, leaning against him, head on his chest, feeling his thrumming heart beat.

“You’re not human, I’m convinced.” He smirks then.

“We’re just getting started.”

“Huh!?”

“I’m giving you a moment.” He leans forward and bends at the waist, pressing you against the counter, completely naked. You should be insecure or embarrassed, shy maybe, because as a stripper you still had certain things covered, but you really couldn’t care about that, not with him. “Look at this body, fuck…”

“You’re sweet to me.”

“Sweet? You should look at those handprints on your ass.” You giggle a bit, but when he’s kissing you again, you’re melting, feeling so much it makes your throat close up, your heart racing, as you lean up, eager for more. “Let’s clean up.”

“Yes please.” He brushes your hair back, all messy from the amount of times he’s pulled it, buried his face in it, ran his fingers through it. It feels…

“Perfect.”

“Hmm?” You murmur, eyes shutting as he kisses your forehead, far too sweet a gesture for a man like Sukuna, but you’re annoyingly turning him into mush, and he really can’t stand it.

“Said perfect.”

“Me?”

“Yes you, annoying brat.” You giggle, shaking your head. “Don’t make me fuck every insecurity out of you dumb little head.”

“Excuse me? I can’t tell if you’re being sweet or an ass.” He just raises his brows, you shove at him, laughing, then he’s picking you up in his arms, you cling to his neck, breathless.

“Gotta carry you all around and shit, huh? Can’t walk?”

“You like to do it, stop lying.” He hides his smile in your messy hair, as he eases you to sit, starting the shower now, the steam rising around you as soon as you step in, looking at just how luxurious it is, multiple shower heads amongst pretty tan marble tiles, little white ones warmed under your feet when he leads you in. “This shower is nicer than my existence.”

He snorts at that, shaking his head, eying your body covered in forming bruises, feral thinking that everyone will now know you’re his. Even if it hasn’t been explicitly stated yet, he already knows it for the both of you. He feels this annoying ass tenderness for you, as he watches the hot droplets cascading off your sexy, pretty little body, your head falling back, eyes closed in enjoyment.

Soon Sukuna is standing behind you, his hands immediately on your shoulders, rubbing the knots out, making you lean into his touch. “This is heaven.” You murmur, his hands slipping down to your hair, brushing it to the side and leaning low, his lips against your ear.

“Mm, it’s just a shower, brat, I can make you feel way better, hmm?” He says, voice low, his cock hardening again for you, poking at your back thick and hot, but he doesn’t move on it yet, just lets the warm water run over the both of you.

“Better than anything.” You feel yourself leaning more on him, as the water is washing away the sticky mess of your love making, the heat making your skin tingle as his thick cock pulses. Your heat in your tummy starts again, and your nipples perk up, he eyes them, his hands gripping them, eliciting a cry from you, your ass arching more against him.

“Better than anything, huh?”

“Anything.” At your whisper he’s got you turning around, your hands slip up his slick chest to his shoulders, watching the water running down his abs, his cock with that reddened tip fully hard again, and he’s just staring at you with those ruby eyes, gulping at how much you make him feel with those words. “What’s that look, Sukuna?”

“Thinking about everything I’m gonna do to you.” You bite your lower lip, as his hands find purchase at the nip of your waist. “I’m gonna fuck you again, and again, until you can’t even think of anyone else but me.”

“Sukuna, there is no one else I think of.” You whisper, leaning up as he leans down, and you kiss him, deep and sloppy and so desperate, and he groans, grabbing your thighs, hoisting you up so you wrap around his waist.

“Only me in that pretty head, only my cock inside your tight lil’ fucking cunt, huh?” Your legs are shaking as you’re pressed against the slippery tile wall, his possessive words just making you wetter. “Say it.”

“Only you.” Sukuna exhales, his grip is firm on your ass, as he starts to fuck you again, his cock sliding in so easily, because of how much you’ve cum already, how much he’s fucked you, stretched your little pussy out.

The water is hot on your skin, but not as hot as his touch, not as warm as his body, as he whispers filthy things that sound like pretty love confessions. “Perfect little slut, made f’me, hah- made to take my cock, yeah?”

You just nod weakly, feeling his cock hit your g-spot with that piercing again, your nails digging into his shoulders and slipping as the water pummels both of you, burning hot. You’re so sore then, but you crave it, crave more, gasping out, toes curling as he shoves in so deep, rolling his hips and pulling back.

“Look at that pretty face, so fucked out.” He murmurs, watching while he lifts and slams you down on his cock, your eyes roll back, mouth open in an O, he knows you’re close again. “That’s it, pathetic slut can’t help cumming, so cock hungry?”

“Mnh!” You are just too fucked out to answer anymore, when he’s got his hand on your neck, his thumbs pressing gently on your pulse point, tilting your chin up.

“Look at me when you cum all over my cock, brat.” You struggle to focus, then you’re shattering again, so lost in his eyes that you don’t even realize when he’s cumming again, until he’s moaning and kissing you brutally, filling you up so hot all in your tummy. “How many loads- hah- you gonna take?”

“Shh- f-fuck!” You’re riding it out, the orgasm him painting your walls gives you, as you’re kissing down his neck, clinging to him weakly.

“Perfect girl, made to be filled by me. Just me.” You sigh, as he eases out of you, then eases you to stand, legs wobbly. “Just me.”

“Sukuna… you’re insane.” He smirks now, shaking his head.

“You really got no idea.”

After the night, you got absolutely no sleep. Aside from literally passing out on him with his cock in you, he woke you up with a not so gentle smack on your ass, as you were bent over in doggy and fading out. You’d sleepily grumbled until he finally decided to cuddle you in his bed, and fuck you feel so good in his arms.

Too good.

Sukuna’s cock was prodding at your entrance, even as you’re in his dress shirt, and you hiss in pain as he touches it, as his tip presses against you, and he’s toying with your puffy little clit. “Need you again.”

“I c-can’t, Kuna…” You whisper, pathetic and weak, half asleep in this man’s strong arms.

He pauses then. “Kuna? The fuck is that?”

You’re loopy, smiling back at him, eyes lidded and barely open, bare faced and beautiful to him, the moonlight glinting through the window now and illuminating your pretty face. “Issa nickname…”

“Stupid.” He huffs, earning another tired giggle, no drug or liquor could ever feel like being fucked out by Sukuna, you’re sure of it. “You’re cockdrunk, tch.”

“S’your fault, Kuna.” You’re giggling as he scowls, cupping your face, the fan whirling softly above you both as you feel the silk against your skin from him shuffling under the blankets.

“Stop the stupid nickname, brat.” He orders, you shake your head then. “You are a brat, not listening for shit.”

“You love it. Shh.” You kiss him so sweetly, he melts against you, pulling you close as he exhales against your lips, drowning in you. “Can I get jus’ a couple hours, I have my kid tomorrow.” You yawn then, and he pulls back, frowning.

“Can’t you stay tomorrow too? I will pay her more.” You blink sleepily, shaking your head.

“No, too much time… I’ll miss Touma.” You’re fading, and Sukuna feels too goddamn much, as he stares at you, as he thinks of the ripping feeling in his heart at you ever leaving.

Would he have to just move in the damn kid!?

Would you even go for this?

It’s too soon and it’s stupid but he cuddles you then, thinking of stupid, stupid things, a girl that makes him question too much just existing. When you snuggle against him, and he holds you, he wants to keep you here so badly it makes him almost sick, your little sleepy smile as you murmur a stupid nickname.

What have you done to him?

*****

“Ow, ow, ow, ow.” You’re hissing as Sukuna is chuckling at you, while you’re wobbling out to his car, wearing his jacket and your pajamas underneath, your hair insane from falling asleep after the second shower.

Six times he fucked you.

Six times he busted inside you.

Six times!?

That’s not counting the amount of times he had his face buried between your thighs, or the times he was fucking your throat. That was just the amount of loads he’d pumped in your pussy. He’s leaned back in his seat, you get to see one of his cars, some fancy sports thing, that purrs as he starts it, chuckling at you.

“Poor baby can’t take all this dick, can she?”

“Sukuna, that's not fair. Tell me this isn’t normal!?” He pauses then, sighing a bit as he drives.

“No, that much isn’t normal for me either.” He murmurs, before his smirk is back, eyeing your pained expression. “Are you doing okay?”

“No, I am not.” Your tummy rumbles then, and you blush in embarrassment.

“Want food on the way home?”

“No, you don’t have to…”

“Let’s just swing through somewhere.” It feels too comfortable, too perfect, his hand on your thigh as he drives, it feels like you’re all his, truly like you’re meant to be there, and that should scare the shit out of him. But he’s too far gone to be scared of it at all.

“Okay, thank you.” You yawn cutely, melting him despite his cocky, arrogant little attitude he presents. He swings through a breakfast place soon, and you lean forward. “Um, Touma likes french toast.”

“What about you, brat?”

“Me… um… in a second.” You’re rattling off things for your kid, irritating him since your tummy is clearly growling again.

“And for you?” He asks again, scowling now, you giggle a bit.

“Protein for recovery needed. Egg and sausage?”

He rolls his eyes, ordering it, slapping at your hand when it goes to your purse. “The fuck are you doing?”

“Kuna, it’s for my kid too.” He frowns once more, smacking your hand again, like you’re some little kid touching what you shouldn’t.

“Don’t call me Kuna, shit. Also, hell no, I’ll pay, it’s literally nothing.” You ease back a bit, as he hands you the bags and drink holder, smiling at him. “Stop that, it’s nothing.”

“It’s sweet. Really sweet.” You tear up a bit by the time you’re home, earning a further look of confusion on his face.

“Don’t cry over some cheap breakfast, shit.”

“No you’re just… Sukuna it’s been all me, everything, just this one little thing… it was sweet.” You murmur, eyes glimmering, and he realizes then, just what you must have been through, at least some of it, if this meant anything to you at all.

“Well, just… just let me do shit for you all the time, then. Stop bitching about it.” He says with narrowed eyes, and you giggle just a bit, the sound tightening his chest far too much when you lean forward, little hand brushing against his jaw as you lean forward.

“Last night was… there are no words. I hope um, it wasn’t once?” You whisper, and Sukuna drags you against him right in front of your house, one hand pressed on your waist as he looks at you.

“I did fuck your brains out, if you think that’s all I want. The fuck? You think I don’t want you every day and night.” You exhale in relief, kissing him then, so sweetly he should make it rough, right? He should grip a titty, your ass, bite your lip, anything but kiss back just as tenderly, inhaling the sweet scent of you filling the car, mixing with the breakfast sitting in your lap.

“Even if it’s just um… sex. I’ll do it, Kuna. I feel so good with you.” He should rejoice in this, a man who just wants that, wants it easy in life, but his jaw clenches when he cups your face.

“I fucked every braincell out.” You laugh, shaking your head. “That’s not… tch, not all I… y’know get out, brat. Annoying.”

You smile at him, knowing what he means as his jaw clenches, pressing a kiss on the cleft of his chin, then nuzzling your nose against his, far too sweet, far too cute, destroying him with every precious moment. Making him a little bitch, soon he’d be ordering fruity drinks like goddamn Gojo, what you do to him, with your cheeks and eyes all bright, your smile.

God, your smile.

He sees then, behind you, a little boy, he looks just like you, along with a blue haired girl, standing on your front porch. You turn your face then, smiling so pretty his stupid heart hurts. “I should go now, will I see you at work tonight?”

“Of course you will.” He says, voice husky, as he leans to un-seatbelt you, curiously looking out again.

Would he ever meet your kid?

Would you all ever really… get that far?

What would Sukuna even say to a damn kid? It’s not like he has been around any, or had thoughts of having his own, but he wants every part of you, and if this is the biggest, he suddenly feels the need to know about it. “You love that kid huh?”

“More than anything. But… someone is occupying my heart kind of fast.” Your breathy whisper is met with his widened ruby eyes, when you kiss him once more, smiling sweetly. “I’ll see you tonight, Kuna.”

“Tch.” Is all you get, but Sukuna watches, as you pick up your little boy in your arms, grinning happily, and your kid is smacking kisses on your cheek, melting him more than he’ll admit when he drives off, missing you already.

You miss him the moment he drives off, sighing happily at Touma then, who is squeezing your neck so tight. “Mama, I had so much fun!”

“Did you!?”

“So much! Miwa made cookies!”

“I saw! I’ve got french toast.”

Touma’s eyes light up. “Yum!” Then when you’re inside, arranging breakfast after Miwa leaves, he tugs at your hair.

“What is it, baby?” You ask, leaning down as he’s got one hand clamped around a french toast stick.

“Mama looks happy.” Your lips tremble at his assessment, eyes tearing up at his next words. “Mama doesn’t smile a lot.”

“I’m so sorry, Touma. Mama gets tired, but you always make me happy.” You’re crying now, as he touches you with sticky french toast fingers, cinnamon brushing across your cheek.

“No mama, I’m happy. You smile. Pretty.” You grin now, and Touma grins. “Pretty, mama is pretty.”

“And you’re the most handsome boy.” You pull him against you, the love in your heart filling you completely, as you kiss his soft hair. “Touma you always make me happy, even if I don’t show it. Mama gets a little stressed out.”

“S’okay mama.” You kiss his forehead sweetly, then he’s off to playing when you clean up, thinking of Sukuna.

He made you smile.

He makes you feel so good.

Sure, physically, but how his hands entwined with yours? How he looked at you? You don’t know if he’ll get serious, but everything in you craves more of him, to know more of him, than just the physical. Both of you still know so little, but it’s like he’s given this brightness in a dark world, where Touma was all you had for that, but you realize your stress and sadness affected him even.

You absolutely nap with Touma in his little toddler bed, snoring and cuddling, because honestly Sukuna has worn you out. Your phone keeps going off after a couple hours, and Touma hands it to you, smacking on your face to wake you up. “Mama, it’s daddy.”

Your heart stops then, pounding in your chest as you take the phone, holding it to your ear. “What?” You say tersely, earning Naoya’s chuckle.

“I’m outside, sweetheart, wanna let me in?”

This chap absolutely was smut filled, reader needed this okay!?!? The next we will be getting back into the plot- clearly Naoya is here. I planned on six parts but it may go longer bc there's a lot I need to do lol. I hope to hear what you think <3

Taglist #1 @naammiii @naina326 @1worm1 @yenayaps @shokosbunny @sukubusss @msniks @kittyyyyykats @nyxly1412 @trashsuarecan @dumbbunny98 @monster-effer @tojis-ball-sack @tangsakura @friesnkwtchup @uhnosav @lhhlver @attackonnat @moonchhu @mat-mat-mat @cherryjain17 @havkjhdecs @stargirl-mayaa @waterfal-ling @the-dark-creature @lulunx @saitamaswifey @spacefae-x @deitysdream @sorahatake @gojoscumslut @stainednailpolishremover @kidd3ath @clp-84 @rinkomei @catastayy @oneirataxiaa @inthedarkshadows000 @travistheaussie @cold-blooded-girls @emi311 @blublublubby @fluttershyfangs @actuallynarii @7thsthings @ilovemeni @erluu @for-hearthand-home @angellliqua

(rest in reblogsss)

Buy me a glass of wine🍷 - Gen Masterlist

#sukuna x reader #sukuna smut #jjk smut #jjk x reader #sukuna x female reader #sukuna x fem!reader #strip club owner sukuna #sukuna ryomen smut #jujustu kaisen #divider by cafekitsune #sukuna x you #sukuna x y/n #ryomen sukuna #ryomen sukuna x reader #yandere sukuna #soft yandere #whipped jjk men

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agoraphxnics · 2 months ago

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fem!afab!reader

wandering into a cave to seek shelter from the storm only to come across a slumbering dragon!price. he’s massive with radiant golden scales. you freeze, adrenaline shooting through your chest and piercing your ears. you slowly back away, trying not to wake the beast, when your back crashes into a thick wall of flesh. you look up to see another dragon!gaz blocking your exit.

“hmm, what do we have here?”

you face him, stepping backwards to make some distance. gaz isn’t as large as price, but his red scales still intimidate you to no end.

“i-i’m sorry, i didn’t know this cave was occupied. i was just cold and needed a place to hide! i-i can leave and never come back!”

a grumbling resounds from behind you. it shakes the ground you stand on, making you shake from more than just the frigidness. a third dragon!soap appears, picking you up in claws and bringing you to his piercing yellow eyes and green-scaled maw. “poor li’l sapphire. didnae know this was a dragon’s nest?”

you curl in on yourself. “n-no! i swear! please don’t eat me! i promise i meant no harm!”

gaz laughs, stomping forward to look at you closer. his maw is so close—just one sharp exhale, and you’d be a pile of ash. “trinket, we won’t hurt you. you’re too cute to eat.”

“ye. we only want tae play with you a bit,” soap adds, using his other paw to ‘gently’ pat your head. it jolts your whole body.

you sniffle. “what do you mean?”

“mating season.” from the darkness, a fourth dragon!ghost appears. he’s taller than the two, all black scales and authority. you gasp, eyes widening.

“si!” soap scolds.

at the same time, gaz says, “don’t scare her even more than she already is!”

the former huffs. “why waste time when we can get to the point?”

gaz pulls away slightly to give you space, but his gaze still holds yours with intensity. “look, trinket. we dragons mate in autumn, and you caught us at the right time. if you help us, we’ll reward you handsomely.”

“john has quite the hoard,” soap continues, “and he’d be willing to give ye whatever ye need to live comfortably for the rest of your life.”

“all we ask is that you let us breed you,” gaz finishes.

you gulp, the adrenaline now pooling somewhere else. somewhere wet and hot. the idea of four dragons fucking you makes you keen, thighs pressing together unconsciously.

“but how would this work?” you ask, looking over at ghost’s underbelly. from a slit on his abdomen, you can see two large cocks starting to poke out, and from the heads alone, they each look just as big as you.

the three chuckle, and soon a fourth voice joins in on the laugh. price finally makes a move, standing up and walking over to fully cage you in soap’s palm.

“oh, treasure,” he rumbles amusedly, “dragons can shapeshift. we wouldn’t want to break you, would we, boys?”

the three grunt in response.

you feel awed by their power, and when you don’t respond, price barks out an order. “kyle. simon. johnny. show my treasure what i mean.”

soap places you back on the rocky floor. suddenly, the sound of cracking and contorting echoes through the cave. and before you know it, three massive humanlike men stand before you. sharp horns protrude from their heads, human flesh surrounds random patched of scales, and their backs sport gigantic wings and a tail. most importantly, however, they are naked and proudly presenting two scaly cocks between their legs, tips weeping with seed.

in that moment, any doubts or reasoning went out the window. drool ran past your lips, and your tongue quickly followed to lap it up.

soap laughed, crouching in front of you to caress your face. “li’l sapphire likes what she sees.”

“does that mean we can ‘ave ‘er?” ghost grumbled, claws moving to fist his aching cocks.

gaz sneaks behind you and whispers in your ear, “it’s up to her.”

you take them in, lustful eyes raking over their faces, their bodies, their everything, desperate to find out what pleasure they’ll give you. craning your neck up to where price still towers over you all as a dragon, you call, “can i see you, too?”

a contented sound leaves price’s throat as he shifts into a burly man just as aching as his pack mates. he stalks to you, those eyes still gleaming like the apex predator he very much is, and he turns you to face him. “well? are you pleased with your mates?”

you nod.

the four of them purr, finally putting their hands on you.

“good treasure. now just sit there and look pretty for us. we’ll take good care of you.”

writing smút is hard >_< maybe i’ll continue this one day but for now enjoy dragons bc they hot asf

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pearlywritings · 7 months ago

Text

Sometimes the name doesn't matter

synopsis: sometimes it matters that you are his wife. PART 3

pairings: Childe, Neuvillette, Pantalone, Wriothesley x fem!reader (separately)

tw: fluff, established relationship (married/engaged/mated), secret relationship, immortal reader in Neuvi's part

word count: 6.1k+ words

a/n: part 1 and part 2 can be read here!

Childe

Spurred by the whistles and a whip of a coachman three fine white horses are trotting along the snow-covered road, dragging a big sleigh. Made of the sturdiest wood and painted in red and gold, the construction is effortlessly sliding on ice crust, almost lulling you under all those warm blankets and furs Ajax has thrown over your half-sitting half-lying bodies. You are glad to have this instead of jolting in a carriage (not like it’ll even be able to ride through all this snow), sure to have an aching arse even under the thick sheepskin coat, and instead of whatever machinery your lover could’ve gotten his hands onto due to his position - otherwise it wouldn’t have been so romantic.

Resting your head onto his shoulder you sigh blissfully, puffing out a small cloud of warm air. The fluffy-looking firs, tall pines and naked larches are flashing past in a magical gleam of snow-covered branches; you think you see two grayish squirrels chasing one another on a tree on your left.

“Oh, little minxes. A couple of seconds later and that snow could’ve ended up on our heads.”

You giggle at the young man’s comment, taking your gloved hand out of the sable muff and reaching to adjust the hat with earflaps (which he once again refused to tie under his chin) on his head. Before you can retrieve, a bigger hand clad in mitten wraps around yours and brings it to the chapped pale lips. As if spellbound you watch him press a tender kiss just where your ring finger joins the palm - right where the engagement ring is hidden under the thick material.

Now it’s hard to tell if your cheeks are rosy from cold or the swirling emotions.

“A little bit more and we will be in Morepesok,” he says softly, deep pools of his blue eyes staring back at you adoringly. “I can’t wait to share the news with ma, pa, sisters and brothers…”

You know he’s written them a letter right after you said ‘yes” to him, too excited to wait. So excited in fact, that he couldn’t sit still in expectation for the response, so he solicited an impromptu week-long vacation with the help of Pulcinella, and here you are, on your merry way to his home village.

“I can’t wait for that too,” you smile, leaning up to peck his nose, eliciting the same smile from him. “But I worry a little - will they be happy for us? I mean, that it’s me who you are going to marry?”

“Absolutely!” He nods enthusiastically and you have to readjust his hat again. “They all love you very much, I promise you. And if I am being completely honest, mom and Tonia did keep asking me when I intended to make you my wife during the last couple of times we visited.”

“Wait, really? Why didn’t you tell me?”

“Because I was already planning a proposal at the time - didn’t want to spoil it by accidentally letting my tongue loose.”

It’s hard to believe that this man is one of the Tsaritsa’s Harbingers. Childe is surprisingly good at separating his work and off work behavior, turning into a completely normal, maybe just a tiny bit unhinged, young man as soon as his family is involved. You know he’s built this facade to keep them and you away from harm, but you also know it comes from the heart as well.

“Then I can only hope we can bring the female members of your family to the capital soon - I want them to participate in the wedding dress shopping.”

You are immediately gathered into a tight embrace and your laughter is smothered by the fur on his collar. Yes, he is the Eleventh Harbinger, Tartaglia, Tsaritas’s soldier, Childe… But in moments like this he is just Ajax. Your Ajax.

His parents’ house meets you both with the quiet creak of the gates, the barking of two big fluffy malamutes outside, the clink of the horseshoe against the wood on top of the front door, the warmth of a well-heated inside and a bit taller than the last time you saw him Teucer, who runs full speed at his big brother, practically tackling him.

“Big brother is home, big brother is home!”

Ajax joyously laughs, somehow managing to take off his coat and dropping it to the colorful carpet at the front door before hoisting the exclaiming boy into his arms. Kicking off your felt boots to step from the anteroom, you watch with a smile as he squeals when your lover presses his cold cheek to the warm smaller one, squirming in the strong arms.

Not a minute later more of his siblings appear, closely followed by their mom - freckled, with her ginger with gray hair tied in a thick braid and an apron thrown over her green dress, the woman smiles brightly and, letting her children surround their brother, walks to you with arms spread, ready to embrace you.

“Mother, my clothes might be cold,” you try to warn her, but she doesn’t listen, hugging you anyway.

“As if it can affect me! Oh, I’m so happy to see you, my dear. How was your trip? Are you tired, hungry? I’m almost done with lunch, and in the meantime I can ask my husband to throw in the firewood and heat the bathhouse for you two.

“It’s very kind of you,” you smile, wrapping your arms to give her a hug in return. “But I think we’ll wash up in the evening - I really doubt Ajax’s sibling will let him go in the following couple of hours.”

Before she can say anything, a tall, wide man appears from the other room. His beard and hair are gingerly brown with gray too, thick brows naturally furrowed. By the rosy cheeks, the remnants of snowflakes melting on his hair and the choice of clothing you guess he’s just returned to the house through the back door - probably after chopping wood.

Upon lowering his gaze to you, his facial features smooth out.

“If it isn’t my son and a dear soon-to-be daughter-in-law!” His gruff voice booms across the house, immediately redirecting everyone’s attention to you and making you blush. “I knew Ajax was too impatient and would rather come to visit and bring his fiance along than wait for a response letter.”

As he moves to greet you properly and help with discarding the outer clothes, you notice your gingerhead whispering something to his siblings, to which they giggle and throw glances at you. Catching the gaze of your lover, you lift an eyebrow, as if asking ‘should I be concerned?’. But he only shakes his head with a smile and ushers everyone to the dining room.

However, the curiosity is getting better of you, as throughout the evening you keep catching the glances, watch Tonia whispering something to her mom, and the woman giving Ajax a ‘really?’ kind of look, but with a fond smile, and then his dad slapping his back with a boisterous laugh, saying something along the lines ‘I was the same way with your mom too’.

So you confront him once you are left alone in the room.

“Hey, foxy, what’s going on?”

“Hm?” He lowers the blanket that he’s just tucked inside the duvet cover and reaches for the sheets. “What do you mean, bunny?”

“Whatever you’ve been doing,” you put one of the pillows down and reach out for the other as well as the pillowcase.

“And what’s that ‘whatever’ I’ve been doing?” You don’t miss the sly smile finding its way onto his face. You huff.

“I don’t know. You tell me.”

The man hums, tucking the edges of the sheet between the mattress and the bed.

“Nothing you should worry about. I just asked them all to practice a little.”

“Practice?” Cocking your head, you throw both pillows onto the bed. “Wait, did you start planning something for the wedding?”

“Not quite. Rather for after it.”

Confused, but intrigued, you step closer when your lover sits down and beckons you, being dragged into his lap a second later. Blue eyes look at you in an unspoken fascination, as he leans forward to place a kiss to the corner of your mouth, prompting you to loosely wrap your arms around his shoulders.

“Since we are getting married, I deduced that it would be only right for my family to call you my wife. Thus I asked them to get acquaintanced with the term, so they could start doing it as soon as we are pronounced husband and wife.”

You blink at him once, twice. After the third time you exhale, shaking your head, but the lift of your lips doesn’t go unnoticed by your fiance.

“I should’ve known you’d pull something like this, I am not even surprised, let alone mad. But they could just keep addressing me by my name. Plus your siblings already call me ‘big sister’ and your parents made me an honor of acknowledging me as the ‘daughter’. It won’t change much.”

“But it will!” He pouts and you can’t resist the urge to pinch his cheek. “You will be my wife and I want everyone to help me show it! Does it bother you though?”

Looking into those uncharacteristically begging eyes, you really can’t deny him his little antics. Not like you were going to in the first place.

“No, no, I don’t mind, love. Honestly, it's very sweet how excited you are. Makes me look forward to it.”

“Yeah?” Look at him, smiling like a satisfied cat, who's had too much sour cream for its own good. His embrace tightens on you a little.

“Yeah.”

A beat of silence passes as Ajax enjoys the many kisses you pepper to his face, squeezing his eyes shut, grinning, boyishly eager for more.

“Do you think I should ask the whole village to do the same?”

“Ajax, no.”

Nuevillette

“Mother, do you mind helping me a little? I can’t reach over there…

“I’d be delighted, my dear.”

Neuvillette watches with a fond look as you put the tea cup down and stand up to walk closer to Verenata and assist her with whatever the potion maker needs. Your figure is ethereal, clad in the finest fabrics, flowing with every step and gently dropping as you crouch gracefully to hoist the melusine in your arms. From above the rim of his silver goblet the Hydro Dragon can't tear his eyes from the way one of your many “daughters” wraps an arm around your neck and reaches up, while the corner of your lips, which he can see from his position at the table, is turned upwards.

“Mother is so kind and patient,” Laume says just a step away from Neuvillette’s chair. When the man turns his head to look at her, there is Flo standing too.

“Yes, and she is so beautiful,” the other melusine sighs, clasping her hands together. “And she always brings us such nice and comfortable clothes…”

“Monsieur Neuvillette married a wonderful woman,” a couple more melusines nearby agree and there is a warm and fuzzy feeling takes place in the Judex’s chest.

Marriage… Such a beautiful concept humans came up with to validate the union of two. It begins with the wedding - a day full of happy tears and blissful smiles, shared vows to be together in sickness and in health, sweet claims of love and promises of joyful life ahead. Then this very life begins and for beings like you and your husband it’s a long, but welcome trip.

You’ve been claimed by each other for quite some time before the more ‘mortal appropriate’ ritual, and the melusines - the wonderful creatures Neuvillette once took under his wing - were aware and happy for your relationship. And it was actually their idea to hold a wedding too, once Sigewinne naturally asked how the two of you planned to introduce your bond in civil words to humans.

And it was their initiative to start calling you “mother”. With your actions you quickly became one for them anyway, and the girls actively sought your company when it was possible. Thus, such tea parties at the Merusea Village as today are a common occurrence (besides, you always welcome them because it's a great opportunity to dig your husband out of the pile of responsibilities he tends to bury himself under).

However, lately Neuvillette started noticing that when he heard the word leave the girls’ mouths, a strange feeling began rising in his chest. Even though not quite familiar with the concept of jealousy, the Judex was sure it was not the case - he loved when the melusines called you that. So, he could not really put his finger on why the action caused such an indescribable reaction.

He decided to observe. On his walks throughout the city, the man seeked the sights of parents with children to attentively listen and watch while leisurely passing by or stopping at the shopping booths to linger on the scene. He was quick to note that the interactions were hardly different from the ones between you and the girls - kids would call for their mothers in all the same tones: when happy, when asking for help, when seeking comfort and many other typical occurrences he’d seen a handful of times before.

What really caught Neuvillette’s eye was the way the parents behaved. And soon his focus shifted to the married couples instead. As reserved as the nobles seemed to appear, the ones in love still managed to slip a murmured ‘my dear’, or ‘beloved’ or ‘my sweet [Name]’ in their speech. All the things the Hydro Dragon was all too used to call you too, relishing in the image of your loving smile and joyfully crinkling eyes as you responded in kind.

But it is like a waterfall pours on him when a week later, after that tea party where he once again sunk deep in thought, a keen pointy ear makes out a simple word in the crowd.

"Wife"

Male’s heart flutters. The understanding quickly dawns on him, even more so when his eyes find the couple on the other side of the road, - it was no simple term to introduce the partner to the third party. No, the tenderly spoken word was used by that man to address his lover, to softly draw her attention to him, to remind her he is happy she is holding such a position in his life…

At least that’s what kind of puzzle pieces together in Neuvillette’s head. The couple is long gone, yet he is still standing there, hand resting on the handle of his cane and eyes staring into space.

He starts to remember all the sweet names he called you, each and every one stored in his memory with the heart-warming images of your reactions. There are all kinds of those: my love, my pearl, lizzy (affectionate from ‘lizard’; you used to tell him that dragons are just big lizards and it kinda stuck), kisses-stealer, fairy-tail nymph… The man is surprisingly creative with his words when it comes to you.

Sure, he calls you his mate, quite often too, but to his chagrin it has never occurred to him that he could call you ‘his wife’ too! It’s so simple, so absurdly logical, yet it took him weeks to figure out.

Humans are truly fascinating.

When Neuvillette returns to his office in the Palais Mermonia you are already there, lazing on a sofa with a bunch of papers, in which your husband guesses the script of probably another upcoming play of Furina. And judging by the more than a half pages turned you’ve been waiting for him for a while.

When the door closes and the cane disappears in the myriad of sparkling bubbles, you lift your gaze, and a smile immediately lights up your lovely features.

”Neuvi,” You speak softly, getting on your feet and leaving the script behind, “I hoped we’d depart on the afternoon stroll together. So imagine my disappointment when Sedene told me you had left just ten minutes ago! Oh, I knew I’d be late if Lady Furina had kept me for another minute, yet I still hoped I’d be on time…”

As you are approaching him, the Judex remembers the melusine’s words upon arrival: “Mother waits inside”. This makes all his previous thoughts resurface, and when he meets you half-way and reaches for both your hands to place a kiss to the back of each, Neuvillette has half a mind to try out his new discovery.

“Our Archon enjoys your company a lot, and, knowing you, you are not really mad,” you roll your eyes playfully, tiptoeing to peck the tip of his nose, murmuring a quiet ‘hush, let me be a tiny bit indignant’. “And I’d be honored to keep you company for the evening stroll,” and then, after a little pause of hesitation, he adds, “wife.”

He watches as the previously present smile on your face grows even bigger, but after a couple of seconds starts to fade slowly, eyes squinting a little bit to stare at him in hardly-concealed curiosity.

“What was that?”

“What was what, dear wife?”

“This!” As if to emphasize your words you point your finger to his mouth, and it’s Neuvillette’s lips’ turn to curl in a small smile.

“It’s something I hoped to discuss with you,” his gloved fingertips soothingly brush over your knuckles and soon your hand is clasped into his, as the man leads you both back to the sofa. “You see,” he starts when you sit down, “I am fascinated with the notion hidden behind the word ‘mother’ the melusines like to call you. That’s who you are for them both in reality and in terms. I’ve made some observations, and figured that sometimes humans in marriage also use the…familial terms to address one another. It seemed lovely to me and I wanted to try it out with you. What do you think?”

You hum in thought, replaying in your head the way Neuvillette spoke to you twice. It is hard to explain, but you somehow immediately see the appeal and understand why your lover got hooked on it. Seems lovely indeed. You wonder, what if you…

“Will you tell me more about those observations on our evening stroll, husband? Ooh, it does sound wonderful!”

Mark him stunned, but for a moment Judex grows speechless. The violet depths of his eyes swirl with adoration as you clap your hands gleefully, and he knows, that from now on your everyday routine will never be the same

“With pleasure, wife.”

Pantalone

Dancing snowflakes are slowly descending in their tender waltz and are gleaming like the tiniest of gems in the streetlights’, enveloping the already magical winter capital of the Cryo region in a solemn atmosphere. The white cover of the ground is crunching with every step of a passerby and every wheel rotation of the fancy-looking carriages, while the street is a jumble of fur coats and heavy military overcoats, finally breathing life into the afternoon-quiet city.

It’s a wonderful evening, too marvelous to spend it at home, too enchanting to miss the new ballet at the Bolshoy Theater, the true accumulation of the Tsaritsa’ nation’s nobility and intelligentsia. The wonder of Snezhnayan architecture is both the place to rest and enjoy the purest form of art and home to many gossip circulating in society. Some fresh and just hours old, some ancient and undying, like the topic of the Ninth Harbinger’s lovers.

Lord Pantalone is well-known and often-praised for his contribution to the Snezhnaya’s economy, along with extending the Fatui influence all across the Teyvat. But also he is quite famous for the women he appears in public with. It’s always someone new, it’s never the same one as before. Different shapes, different hair, different style - it is impossible to guess the raven-haired man’s tastes. However everybody knew - the Harbinger never entertained the company of the ladies who made attempts to catch his attention. Those ladies themselves say as much.

The Regrator’s companions never open their mouths, never utter a word - at least not when there are people around. There has never been a single name, never a remembered face - all women wear the mask covering the upper half of it, concealing the identity of yet another lucky choice of the rich man.

Never the same woman - always the same mask.

This evening does not disappoint the gathered crowd - lifting their gazes, directing attention to the Harbinger’s personal box, they once again see the notorious mask. The long fringe of wine-red hair is coquettishly framing the ever-lasting piece of leather, similarly flaming lips are tugged in a haughty smile - as if the young lady doesn’t realize that once the night is over, she’s going to be discarded like many others before her. The dress according to the latest fashion trends and the beautiful garnet necklace do not surprise the audience anymore - even known for his love for replacements, Lord Pantalone dresses his partners royally.

The man himself has chosen yet another black costume, with a dark burgundy shirt hidden underneath and bird-shaped garnet brooch on the left side of his chest. Multiple beautiful rings catch the light when he lifts his gloved hand to adjust diamond-shaped glasses, before turning his head and addressing something to his tonight’s escort. She boisterously laughs, saying something in response, but even if attendants tried to strain their ears, they wouldn’t hear anything so far away. Even harder it gets when the third ring of the bell echoes across the theater chamber and both the Harbinger and the woman are forgotten, until the performance is over.

So no one sees when the ring-decorated hand reaches for a smaller female one, fingers sliding under the chintz-covered palm, thumb immediately reaching to tug on the hem of the glove, so the thin cool lips could press against the small patch of bared skin. A glimpse of a smile is what Pantalone gets when you glance at him with amusement playing on your lips.

Always the same mask, never the same woman, huh?

Pride has long slithered into your heart, yet it still lifts its snake-like head every time your act of decisiveness succeeds, happily hissing. Every time it’s a test of your skills, a gamble with the eyes of ones around you, and every time you hit the jackpot, leaving the people guessing, staying the only one in possession of the banker despite the speculations.

As long as Her Majesty Tsaritsa is aware of your existence and the place you occupy next to Pantalone, you are free to do anything you want with his reputation relationship-wise. And he allows it, because should you desire the whole world - he’ll throw it to your feet like the cheapest trinket. One would say it’s because he is prideful too - he knows it’s because he loves his wife.

Loves to the point of entertaining the masquerades she stages whenever the two of you need to appear in public. It plays wonderfully into his possessive nature and desire to keep his precious beautiful wife to himself and helps with the enemies - “changing the ladies” minimizes the chances of putting at risk his one and only. Not like many know of you in the first place.

It’s a win-win arrangement for you as well - there is still an opportunity to cling to his arm, to use his expensive cologne, to play with the rings on his fingers and sneakily make out in a dark corner where no one can see. To be tugged into his lap in the carriage on the way back to his mansion, to have his long fingers undo the strings of the mask, and once the piece of leather falls onto the floor, have the palms slide down the sides of your neck, swiftly fiddling with the heavy necklace, only to let it be, the caress the shoulders, pushing the sleeves down…

…to leave them at the elbows and grab your arms to push your back into his chest as the warm lips press to the juncture between the neck and the shoulder.

And what if you’ve lost your name in the process of this disguising? Having been an actress a long time ago made you used to it. But isn’t it fun to come up with the new ideas for your next performance? Your husband gifts you way too many dresses and jewelry sets - you must find use to all of them! He now has to simply spend a bit more on the wigs and makeup to fit each combination of fabric and gems.

“Did my wife have a pleasant evening?” The velvet voice of the man behind you caresses the ear and you meet his gaze in the full-size mirror in front of you. Amethyst eyes sparkle in the bedroom light and you smile coquettishly, red lips stretching seductively.

“Did she? How could I know?” You tease, reaching to your back to undo the corset, just to be stopped by his hands, fingers digging into the dozens of strings. “And don’t you know, Mr Harbinger, that it’s very offending for the woman, when the man speaks about another lady in her presence?”

“Oh, I wasn’t aware,” he muses, tugging a bit harsher on the ties and making you gasp, “that my dear wife can be jealous of herself.”

“When you know her poorly. Tsk-tsk, what a bad husband you are.”

Pantalone laughs behind you, shaking his head at your untrue words, and you reach to your head to remove the fiery wig. By the time Pantalone is done with your corset, you are done letting your naturally beautiful locks down, sighing in relief from both the released ribcage and hair roots.

The dress, having lost its vital support on your body, falls to the ground next to the wig and quickly becomes forgotten as you two step away from the mirror.

Your husband is still mostly clothed, having only eased out of his coat and unbuttoned the jacket, so you busy your hands with tugging the black article off and then reaching for the gleaming tiny buttons on the shirt. Your figures bask in the warm light of the room as you continue undressing the man - your eyes concentrated on the expensive fabrics, his - on the lovely expression of your face.

“But if you must know,” Pantalone raises his brow, when you look up at him, a much sincere and tender smile lighting up your visage, “your wife loved the evening very much.”

And that’s everything he’s ever wanted to hear. Fingers tangle in your hair, you harshly inhale, and his lips are on yours. Lipstick is smudging, your fingers accidentally catch the silver chain, and his glasses get slightly askew, but it doesn’t matter. His wife loved another thing he’s done for her. The banker’s day has ended in a great profit.

Wriothesley

Fortress of Meropide is a huge metal labyrinth of floors and corridors, where noise is never-ending even in the late hours of the night. The metal box which is the Duke’s office however, is constructed to mute the annoying sounds or else the one inside would have a very hard time concentrating.

Usually, even the ruckus happening outside and the clanking of the heavy machines underneath can’t sway Wriothesley’s attention if he has his mind set on doing the paperwork, even something as boring as bills. Today, however, the man has caught himself multiple times glancing at the clock he’s hung up a couple of years ago - there is no way to tell the time all the way down underwater, true, but it serves him a greater purpose. It helps him count hours and minutes before you arrive.

Tuesdays and Thursdays are the days when you take a half of the day off to come down to the Fortress to meet up with your husband. You both quickly realized that traveling back and forth together in either of the directions (fortress or home in the city) would be way too inconvenient. So, you improvise by visiting him throughout the week a couple of times and then he comes home to properly spend the weekend, having learnt to delegate his responsibilities to the most trustworthy guards. So far you’ve been extremely pleased with the arrangement, and the Fortress’s crew have learnt your face by heart to not cause you any obstacles in reaching your beloved’s office.

Today, nevertheless, something must’ve gone wrong. Pale blue eyes are practically drilling the minute hand of the previously mentioned clock, watching it moving further and further from the tiny 10-minute bar, which should’ve marked your appearance at the top of his stairs. And he gets it, everything could’ve happened, something as trivial as the queue at the pastry shop that might’ve gotten longer today, but when the delay surpasses the half-hour mark, the warden puts his fountain pen down and follows it by the creak of the chair legs on the metal floor.

As he descends down the stairs - each clunking under the heavy soles of his boots - a fleeting thought of you stopping by at the medical bay first is immediately brushed aside - his office is right on the path of entering the Fortress’s main body, and you love your husband too much to let him sulk in his longing.

When he pushes the colossal doors open, eyes instantly start searching the area ahead of him. However, nothing unusual is spotted - two guards are standing at the front of his abode, not even flinching at the unpleasant scraping noise the metal makes; a couple of inmates are walking past them, bowing their heads right as they see the appearing the figure of their warden - Wriothesley simply nods and sends them off with a flicker of his hand; then there is Monglane’s desk with its irreplaceable owner. And no trace of his beloved wife.

Closing the doors behind him, Wriothesley comes up to the guards, inquiring if they’ve happened to see you. Getting a negative response, he hums and starts walking forward, to the corridor leading to the elevator, not bothering with asking the very same questions to Monglane.

With every passing minute, especially while waiting for the elevator, the man starts realizing how impatient he is growing, if the tapping of his foot and crossed arms are not an indicator enough. Even with just one day apart, he’s missed you so awfully much, your adoring smile, your soft voice and cute little giggles, that he feels rightfully robbed since you are not yet in his embrace, showering his face with kisses and then whining pretentiously because he’s forgotten to shave once again. Sometimes you swear he is not a big bad wolf, but a mean huge hedgehog.

He almost stomps inside the cabin the second its doors slide open and pushes the button to the reddening of his fingertip. It is a long trip up to the next level, and he admits he’s tugged on his leather straps wrapped around his arms a couple of times, but Archons, how little it all matters, when, exiting the elevator, he finally hears such a familiar voice. Your voice.

Your husband’s legs carry him like they obtained a mind of their own, following the full of amusement lilt he knows can belong only to you, just to come to a halt next to the wooden boxes piled up on the side of the path.

He can see you, quite clearly, adorned in a cute pair of pants and a shirt, shoulders covered in a crocheted shawl - always ready for the cool air of the Fortress, yet looking so comfy, that Wriothesley can't help but desire to tackle you to the sofa in his office and cuddle this instant. And he would've done just that, if the conversation you've been having didn't catch his attention.

“No, it's wrong again. It's not Britney, it's Brytnneigh.

“But you are saying the same thing!"

"No, it is not B-r-i-t-n-e-y. It's B-r-y-t-n-n-e-i-g-h."

"Slower, please."

In the second voice the warden easily guesses a new guard that has just been employed a couple of days ago. He remembers signing the papers his weekend substitute brought him on Monday. Wriothesley also remembers how the man swore that he’d passed on to the newbie all the information and training he needed to know. But, it appears, he forgot to mention the most important thing…

“Did you make sure to write my name with two N’s?” Your voice is laced with hardly concealed mirth, and, though he can’t see the face of the guard talking to you, your husband is sure the poor young man looks quite miserable.

“Yes, mademoiselle, I did.”

“Wonderful, but it’s ‘madame’, I am a married woman after all. But no worries, I am flattered you think I look so young,” Wriothesley shakes his head with a silent chuckle. He adores you so much, but maybe it really is time to stop your little play of a new inmate, or else he’ll surely have to call for Sigewinne to check on the poor guard.

“And your last name, madame?”

“I am Brytnneigh Deirdrophnea de Troistêtesloup. Do you want me to spell it for you, dear?”

Yes, he really should stop you.

Before you can open your mouth again, you see in your peripheral vision a figure moving. Upon turning your head slightly, you are graced with the sight of your beloved husband, walking towards you with a quirked thick brow, and crossed arms. All you can do is sheepishly smile, waving at him.

“O-oh! Duke Wriothesley, Sir!” The guard behind the registration desk immediately jumps to his feet, squaring his shoulders and saluting at the arrival of his superior.

“At ease, young man,” Wriothesley nods, stepping even closer, practically invading your personal space, icy blue eyes looking at you unblinkingly. “What is going on here?”

“Nothing much, Mr Warden,” your eyes crinkle in the corners, a sight so infectious, that the man’s lips turn into a small smile. “Just a cute old me, ending up in the Fortress for Archon knows what time.”

“M-madame!” The guard exclaims rather loudly, that even your husband turns to look at him. “Even if it's not your first stay here, you shouldn’t be taking liberties with the Duke!”

“No, no, it’s alright,” Wriothesley raises his hand. “She is no longer your headache-”

“Hey!” You elbow his side to the bewilderment of the guard. In his shock he doesn’t even reach for his weapon.

“-I will personally escort this troublemaker inside. And cross out that abominable name out, would you? It’s not her name.”

“It’s not..?” Now Wriothesley really sympathizes with the guy, he looks utterly lost.

“It’s not. But,” a big scarred hand gently cups you under the chin and turns your head more properly towards the guard, “be sure to remember this adorable face very well for the next time. You’ll need that to let her in and out.”

“...out?”

“Yes, indeed. This woman is my wife.”

As the elevator doors slide close and the cabin starts moving down, you turn to Wriothesley and throw your arms around his wide frame, face burying into his chest.

“Are you proud of me for coming up with such a long and difficult name in a single thought?”

“Oh, for sure,” strong arms circle your waist and chapped lips press to the top of your head, “I bet you would be hard-to-catch if you were a criminal. But why did you decide to play such a prank on a poor man?”

“Well… I just wanted to see his face when he found out that I am the wife of the Duke of the Fortress of Meropide himself. Another reason is that there was no guard who knew my face and I doubt he would’ve believed my word. I just got creative with the way of making him summon someone else. You simply got here before anything could happen. Plus, it’s good to keep them on their toes with a job like that. Besides, I did apologize and praise him for his patience.”

At that Wriothesley just sighs and then chuckles, raising one of his hands and threading his fingers through your hair, pressing your head even closer to his chest. He is not even feeling iffy about the lost half an hour of your time together anymore. Because you gave him an opportunity to introduce you as his wife once again.

#genshin impact #genshin impact x reader #childe x reader #childe x fem!reader #tartaglia x reader #neuvillette x reader #neuvillette x fem!reader #pantalone x reader #pantalone x fem!reader #wriothesley x reader #wriothesley x fem!reader #childe #tartaglia #neuvillette #pantalone #wriothesley #genshin impact fluff

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yukkiji · 4 days ago

Text

his favorite parts

on the night they were supposed to attend a formal dinner, her insecurity almost wins—but bokuto stays behind, choosing instead to remind his wife that the body she sees as flawed is the same one he’s adored, worshipped, and will love for the rest of his life.

haikyuu masterlist. leave a little stardust on my ko-fi

starring. bokuto kotaro x fem!reader

genre: fluff, romance, smut, timeskip!bokuto, they are married, plus size!reader

wc: 11.3k

warning: 18+ mdni., smut. nsfw. unprotected sex. cunnilingus. fingering. mirror sex. face-sitting. doggy style. mating press. breeding kink. spanking. body worship. stretch mark praise. postpartum body. soft dom!bokuto. aftercare. bathing together. emotional comfort. established marriage

author's note: okay, i saw a post on tiktok that bokuto also loves thick girls sooo

you've been standing in front of the mirror for almost fifteen minutes now.

the room is quiet, your son’s giggles a memory from earlier when you dropped him off at your mom’s house. he’d clung to bokuto’s leg, babbling about pancakes and cartoons and bringing his stuffed hawk for bedtime, and your heart had both ached and melted. still, you and bokuto had kissed his cheeks, promised to pick him up in the morning, and waved until your sister closed the door behind them.

tonight was supposed to be for you and koutarou.

just the two of you. no diaper bags. no cartoons in the background. no stepping on toy trucks in the middle of the hallway.

a formal dinner with his team—something sleek, elegant, just adults being adults. he’d even insisted on getting a driver so you wouldn’t have to worry about anything. you’d spent the afternoon doing your hair, soft makeup, painted your nails. it had been a long time since you felt like a woman first, not just a mother.

and for the first time in what felt like forever, you dared to reach for that dress.

it had waited in the back of your closet, untouched since before pregnancy. deep midnight silk. halter neckline. backless, with two satin ribbons—one that tied around your neck, the other knotted delicately at the waist. the fabric draped around your curves, slitted high on the hip, pooling like liquid at your feet.

when you slipped it on, you’d held your breath.

you had imagined bokuto’s reaction—his eyes lighting up, mouth parting, that low whistle he always gave when he was really floored.

but now, facing the mirror, the insecurities start whispering.

your body is different.

softer.

the silk clings to the swell of your belly, the curve of your hips, the stretch marks trailing like pale lightning bolts across your skin. some new, from carrying your son. some old. your thighs look thicker. your waist wider. your back—bare in the mirror’s reflection—is webbed with silvery lines and gentle dips that didn’t used to be there.

you love your body. at least, you try to.

but tonight, it’s hard. tonight, the dress you once loved feels like a spotlight instead of armor.

you reach for the ribbon at your neck, fingers trembling.

“babe?”

his voice is muffled from the hallway.

you don’t answer.

the door creaks open a moment later, and then you hear him inhale like he’s been punched.

you can feel his eyes on you—hot, stunned. still, you keep your back turned.

“kou,” you start, voice quiet. “i think i’ll just change.”

he doesn’t move. not at first. and then:

“what the hell are you talking about?”

your stomach clenches.

“the dress—it’s not working. i thought i could wear it again, but… it’s not the same on me anymore.”

he’s behind you in three strides, large warm hands settling on your waist.

you see it in the mirror: the way his brows draw together, the confusion on his face slowly giving way to something else—something deeper.

“you don’t think this looks good?” he asks, voice low, rough around the edges.

you shake your head, too embarrassed to speak.

his fingers tighten slightly, not enough to hurt, just enough to ground you.

“baby,” he murmurs, stepping closer until his chest brushes your back. “do you have any idea what you look like right now?”

“i look like i’m trying too hard,” you whisper. “like i don’t know this body anymore.”

his hands slide around to your front, fingers splaying wide over your belly, pressing his mouth to the side of your neck.

“you mean the body that carried our son?” he murmurs, lips grazing your pulse. “the body that gave me a family, that holds all the softness i love touching every damn night?”

you squeeze your eyes shut, voice cracking. “it’s not just that. my stretch marks… they’re worse now. they’re everywhere.”

bokuto goes still—then slowly pulls back just enough to meet your gaze in the mirror.

“you mean these?” he asks, dragging one finger gently along the marks on your waist, then dipping lower toward the pale streaks on your thigh. “baby. these are gorgeous. do you know how crazy you drive me when i see them?”

you let out a breathy laugh, disbelieving. “you don’t have to say that.”

“i’m not saying it,” he murmurs, his voice low and steady, but full of something fierce—real. “i’m obsessed. i love your stretch marks. i love that your back is soft now. i love your thighs, your stomach… all of it. i married this body, baby. i’ve worshipped this body. and i’ve missed this body.”

his fingers find the ribbon at the back of your neck. slowly, deliberately, he begins to untie it—each motion careful, almost delicate. like he’s unwrapping something fragile. precious.

the bow comes undone.

the silk slides down your chest, the top of the dress falling away in a soft whisper.

your breasts spill free.

bokuto’s breath catches in his throat, and he steps in closer, his hands already rising like instinct—like need.

“oh, baby…”

his voice is a low rasp now, warm against your ear as he cups your breasts gently, reverently—his palms broad, fingers spreading across your soft skin like he’s touching something holy.

you feel his lips brush your shoulder, followed by a kiss, slow and tender.

“so soft,” he murmurs, his thumbs brushing over your nipples, coaxing them into peaks. “god, i love them. i love you.”

he starts to knead them in slow, rhythmic circles—not rough, not hurried—just firm, just intentional, just his. his touch is grounding. comforting. and yet, the way he sighs against your neck, the way he holds you like you might slip through his fingers if he doesn’t keep you close—it makes your knees weaken.

“god…” he breathes, voice low and reverent as his thumbs sweep over your nipples again, “they even got bigger than i thought.”

he groans quietly into your skin, the heat of his breath washing over your shoulder.

“fuck, baby,” he murmurs, squeezing a little more firmly now, his thumbs brushing over your peaked nipples with reverence. his hands cradle you like you’re something delicate and divine, like he still can’t believe you’re real. “look at this… so full. heavy. soft. they’re perfect. you’re perfect.”

you gasp, the sound escaping before you can catch it, hips twitching at the way his fingers roll over your nipples, teasing, coaxing little jolts of pleasure from deep inside you. the sensation sends heat curling through your belly—warm, slow, wanting.

your eyes lift—almost instinctively—to the mirror in front of you.

the image steals your breath.

there you are: flushed, silk dress slipping low on your waist, your breasts fully exposed in the warm lamplight, soft and generous in his broad hands. bokuto stands behind you, taller, darker, haloed by the shadows—his arms wrapped tight around you, his eyes locked on yours through the reflection.

he looks wrecked already. like he’s holding the most precious thing in the world.

and the look in his eyes?

adoration.

claim.

love.

“kou,” you breathe, voice trembling around a moan.

his name leaves your lips like prayer.

his grip tightens just slightly, hands still moving in slow, reverent circles. he kisses the curve of your neck, soft and open-mouthed, then trails his lips to your shoulder, murmuring between kisses:

“that’s it, baby… say my name again. let me hear how good it feels. you look so fucking beautiful right now.”

you tilt your head back into him, overwhelmed—not just by his touch, but by the way he’s seeing you. not as someone changed or less—but as something more. someone whole. someone desired.

and that’s when you hear it, quiet but firm, right beside your ear:

“we’re not going to the dinner.”

your breath hitches.

“but, kou—”

before you can finish, his fingers pinch your nipple—not hard, but enough to make you gasp, your body arching in surprise, pleasure shooting straight to your core.

his grip stays there, gentle but firm, as he kisses your shoulder with a grin in his voice. “that wasn’t a suggestion, baby.”

you shiver, your mouth falling open, but no words come out. only a soft whimper.

bokuto chuckles, low and warm, nuzzling into the curve of your neck. “you think i can let you out in that dress now? after seeing you like this?” he squeezes your breast again, a little slower this time. “after touching you, feeling how fucking soft and warm and mine you are?”

his hand glides down your side, slow and deliberate, skimming the stretch of your belly, over your hips, toward the slit of your dress.

“nah,” he murmurs, voice low and thick with want. “you’re not going anywhere, pretty girl. you’re staying right here… and letting me ruin you.”

you barely have time to breathe before his hands are guiding you toward the bed, his grip steady, warm, unyielding. he sits down first, spreading his thighs, his dark slacks still on but straining with how hard he is for you already.

he tugs you into his lap, slow and sure—settling you on top of him, facing the mirror again.

his hands slide up your sides, slow and reverent, like he's mapping you all over again.

you feel his breath at your ear as he whispers, “look.”

you lift your gaze—and there it is again. you, bared and flushed, seated on his lap in nothing but a half-fallen silk dress. your back, soft and scarred with stretch marks he calls beautiful. your breasts, full and heavy in his palms. your body, wrapped in his. like a living portrait of indulgence and love.

bokuto lets out a low groan as he starts massaging your breasts again, rolling your nipples slowly between his thumbs and forefingers, coaxing more of those soft, breathy moans from your lips.

“you see that?” he murmurs, kissing just below your ear. “that’s what i see every day. every night. the woman i married. the mother of my son. the body that keeps getting more perfect every time i touch it.”

his lips trace a path down your neck, slow and wet, tongue flicking out between kisses. “and fuck, baby… the way you feel in my hands…”

you whimper, hips rolling instinctively over the hard line of him beneath you. the friction sends sparks dancing up your spine, your breath catching as your body presses closer to his. every shift of silk and skin heightens the heat that’s been simmering since the moment his hands touched you.

his mouth is still on your neck, hot and open, kissing and licking slowly—patiently—while his hands move with purpose. one stays on your breast, still kneading softly, while the other trails down, over your belly, and toward your thigh.

his fingers brush the slit of your dress.

you feel him pause.

“…baby.”

his voice drops into something deeper—surprised, low, undeniably turned on.

you bite your lip, eyes locked with your own reflection as you whisper, “i didn’t wear any. figured it’d feel better with the slit that high.”

his groan is immediate, buried into your shoulder, like the thought physically affects him.

“fuck me,” he breathes. “you’re really trying to kill me tonight, huh?”

with slow, deliberate care, he slides his hand under the dress, pushing the silk up until the slit parts wider. he uses his knees to spread your thighs open, guiding you with a firm touch until your legs drape over his, knees bent, completely exposed to the mirror.

and there it is—you, in the reflection.

flushed, already trembling, folds glistening with arousal under the warm light, your thighs trembling ever so slightly, your body bared and beautiful and soaked.

bokuto lets out a shuddering breath.

his hand slides lower, fingers parting your folds as he whispers, “look at that. look how wet you are for me.”

you moan, your hips twitching when he drags a finger through your slick, slow and indulgent, circling your clit with the lightest pressure.

“this all for me, baby?” he murmurs, voice warm against your ear. “just from a dress and a few kisses?”

you nod shakily, but that’s not enough for him.

“say it.”

“it’s for you,” you breathe, arching into his hand. “only you, kou.”

his lips curl into a soft smile against your shoulder. “that’s my good girl.”

he keeps you like that—your legs spread wide over his, silk bunched around your hips, your chest bare and glowing in the golden light. the mirror reflects everything: the way he holds you, the way your body trembles under his touch, the reverence in his eyes as he gazes at you through the glass.

and then his fingers slide deeper.

you let out a soft gasp, eyes fluttering closed before fluttering open again—drawn to the sight in front of you. his fingers sink into you with slow, patient pressure, thick and warm and perfect, curling just right as your walls pulse around him.

“you feel that?” he murmurs against your skin. “how good you take me?”

you whimper, leaning back into his chest, your hands gripping his thighs for support.

his free hand returns to your breast, gently squeezing, grounding you, while the other works slow and steady between your legs—two fingers pushing deeper, spreading you open.

you glance at the mirror again—and you moan at what you see.

your own reflection stares back: eyes glassy and dazed, lips parted, flushed and messy, your soft thighs shaking as his fingers pump into you. your breasts bounce with every breath, nipples hard, chest rising and falling in uneven gasps.

you clench around him at the sight—watching how your body responds so desperately to his touch, how needy you look seated in his lap, fucked open by just his hand.

“ohh, baby…” he groans, feeling the way you tighten. “you saw that, didn’t you? fuck, that got you, huh?”

you nod, a whimper caught in your throat. “kou, i—”

“shh,” he soothes again, voice low and warm as silk. his lips press gentle, open-mouthed kisses to the side of your neck. “just feel me, baby. let me take care of you.”

but his fingers don’t stay slow for long.

they start to move faster—steadier—fucking into you with purpose now. curling deep, spreading you just a little wider with every thrust as slick sounds echo between your thighs. he knows exactly where to reach, exactly how to touch you—how to ruin you gently.

you gasp, then moan, the sound raw and breathless. your hips roll helplessly in his lap, matching his rhythm, chasing more friction, more pressure, more of him.

“that’s it,” he murmurs against your skin, groaning as your walls flutter around his fingers. “you’re doing so good. fuck, you’re perfect like this.”

your reflection—messy, flushed, and trembling—is too much to look away from. your thighs are spread wide, his hand buried between them, his arm flexed around your waist. your eyes are heavy-lidded, lips parted, hair beginning to stick to your damp skin.

your body moves instinctively—your own hands rising to your chest, squeezing your breasts with a whimper. the extra pressure makes your nipples throb, your arousal spike.

“kou,” you cry softly, arching your back as your fingers pinch one peak. “feels so good—please, i’m so close.”

bokuto groans, watching your every move in the mirror.

“you touching yourself too, baby?” he pants. “fuck, that’s so hot. you’re so beautiful like this.”

he doesn’t stop—he can’t. the pace of his fingers keeps building, faster now, deeper, hitting that spot inside you that makes your legs twitch and your breath stutter.

“that’s it. come on, pretty girl,” he whispers, his forehead resting against your temple as his fingers work you closer. “give it to me. let me feel you come on my hand.”

and you do—falling apart in his lap, thighs shaking, breasts bouncing under your own touch as your climax rips through you with a broken moan of his name. your body clenches so tightly around his fingers, so wet and overwhelmed, that he just holds you through it—kissing your neck, whispering praise, grounding you in the strength of his arms.

“that’s my girl,” he breathes, voice low and filled with awe. “you’re everything to me.”

you’re still trembling in his lap, body warm and slick and pliant, your head lolling back against his shoulder as you gasp for air. your thighs twitch with aftershocks, your fingers slack against your breasts, and your eyes are glassy as they stay fixed on the mirror—still processing the intensity of it all.

bokuto presses a slow, reverent kiss to your bare shoulder.

then another. and another.

his fingers finally ease out of you, coated in your release, and he holds you even tighter, his arms wrapping around your soft middle as though to anchor you, protect you, remind you that he’s here.

his palms rub up and down your arms in long, soothing strokes—his touch gentle and patient now, helping you float down from the high, from the haze, from the heady rush of being completely seen and utterly wrecked by someone who loves every inch of you.

“you did so good, baby,” he whispers, resting his chin on your shoulder. “took my fingers like a fucking dream. you’re amazing.”

you manage a soft, dazed laugh, and he grins, nuzzling into your neck with a little hum.

“you okay?” he murmurs, brushing your damp hair from your cheek, his hands still trailing soft circles over your arms.

you nod slowly, chest still rising and falling with aftershocks. “yeah,” you breathe. “better than okay.”

he smiles into your skin, lips brushing warm and soft over your shoulder, before he murmurs, “good… ’cause i’m not even close to done with you yet.”

there’s heat in his voice, yes—but it’s not rushed. it’s not greedy. it’s the kind of hunger that lingers, that savors. and you feel it in the way his hands slide to your waist again, fingers slipping beneath the second satin ribbon tied just below your ribs.

“let me take this off you,” he says, lips ghosting along the nape of your neck.

he unties the bow slowly, with that same reverence from before—like he’s undressing something sacred. the fabric loosens, the tension of the silk falling away, and he helps guide the dress down your body with careful hands.

he watches as it pools around your hips, then slips over your thighs in a slow, fluid glide.

you lift slightly, and he pulls it down the rest of the way, letting the silk fall to the floor without a second thought.

his breath hitches—not in surprise, but in awe.

you’re fully bare now.

no lingerie. no gloss of perfume or body shimmer. just your skin, your softness, your postpartum curves—marked with the stretch of motherhood, lined with silvery streaks that trace along your hips, your breasts, your back, your thighs. and he looks at you like you’re the most divine thing he’s ever laid eyes on.

he leans forward again, lips brushing over your shoulder blades, kissing them softly. slowly. one by one.

you shiver when he presses his mouth to a stretch mark just under your shoulder. then another, by the dip of your spine. his kisses aren’t fleeting—they linger. he tastes you like a man starved.

“these,” he murmurs, reverent. “these are so fucking beautiful. they’re yours. and they’re mine. every inch of you, baby. mine.”

you turn your head into the crook of his neck, flushed and overwhelmed and maybe a little shy. he can feel your thighs twitch against his as he brings you closer, drawing little circles over your hips with his thumbs.

“lie back,” he says, low and soft.

you nod, but before you can move, he shifts slightly under you—his body warm, solid beneath yours. his hands hold your waist still.

“…or better yet,” he breathes, voice thickening, “ride my face.”

your heart skips. your thighs clench around his hips instinctively.

you blink at him through the mirror, eyes wide. “kou…”

he doesn’t let you finish the protest.

“yes,” he says, calm but unyielding. “don’t hide from me. don’t. not when i love you like this.”

his hand slides up your back slowly, smoothing over the stretch marks there, grounding you. his other hand tilts your chin up gently so your eyes find the mirror again.

you see yourself. bare. vulnerable. trembling—but not from shame.

from how seen you feel. how claimed.

“you think i don’t want this?” bokuto murmurs against your shoulder. “you think i haven’t dreamed about this—about feeling your thighs around my face again? watching you fall apart on my tongue while you look at yourself in the mirror and see how fucking perfect you are?”

your stomach twists with heat. your body’s already responding—pulsing between your legs, your chest rising and falling in shallow breaths.

“kou, it’s just—my thighs, i—”

“your thighs are my heaven.” he interrupts, voice rough now. “you don’t even know what you do to me when you shake around me. when you clench down on my tongue and cry my name. i love it. i love you. and i want all of you on top of me. right now.”

he shifts again, lying back against the pillows, broad chest rising with every breath, hair messy and eyes dark with adoration. he pulls you with him, hands guiding your thighs gently to straddle his shoulders.

“you don’t have to do anything, baby,” he promises, voice soft now as he looks up at you. “just sit. let me do the work. let me make you feel good.”

you hesitate for only a heartbeat more—and then his hands squeeze your hips again, warm and sure.

“come on,” he whispers again, his voice so soft, so sure. “ride my face like the goddess you are.”

you hover over him, trembling just slightly—knees on either side of his head, thighs brushing his jaw, your hands braced against the headboard behind him. the heat between your legs is unbearable now, but the nerves twist with it. being this exposed, this seen, even with his praise still ringing in your ears—it makes your chest flutter and your breath catch.

you hesitate, trembling above him—your pussy just barely hovering over his mouth, soaked, swollen, and aching with need. the heat radiating off his skin only makes it worse, makes your core pulse with the want to just drop onto him—but your body still shakes with that small sliver of self-consciousness.

bokuto sees it. he feels it.

but he doesn’t rush you.

instead, he leans in—just enough—and his tongue flicks up to meet your clit in a single, slow stroke.

you shiver, your thighs clenching instinctively as a sharp gasp escapes your lips.

your hips jolt, but still—you stay hovering, breath caught in your throat, pussy twitching from that first delicious contact.

bokuto groans beneath you, loud and needy, like he’s finally tasted the thing he’s been craving all night.

“mmm,” he moans, mouth brushing your folds again. “fuck, baby… why’re you keeping her from me?”

his hands rub up your thighs, spreading warmth through your skin, grounding you again. he kisses your inner thigh, wet and soft. then licks your clit again—slower this time, a long, flat drag of his tongue that has your hips stuttering forward.

“she’s already begging for me,” he says, voice thick with praise. “you’re so wet… so pretty. you don’t need to be shy.”

you whimper, thighs trembling, your breath becoming more ragged the longer you hover. every flick of his tongue—every teasing brush over your clit, every please groaned into your skin—chips away at your hesitation. you're so close to giving in, body already betraying you with the way your slick drips down his chin from just the teasing alone.

bokuto’s eyes flick up to yours—dark, focused, starving.

“when i say sit,” he says, voice dropping into something low and commanding, “i mean it.”

and with that—he pulls you down.

his hands grip your thighs with intention, broad and strong and sure, and he seats you on his face in one swift, fluid motion. there’s no more hovering, no more hiding. your pussy sinks fully onto his mouth, and his lips part with a groan like he’s been waiting for this since the moment he first touched you tonight.

“k—kou—” you cry out, voice pitching into something breathless and broken.

but he doesn't stop.

his arms wrap around the backs of your thighs, locking you in place. his grip is firm, possessive, but still gentle—like he’s holding something precious and refuses to let it go.

and then he devours you.

his mouth moves with purpose now, tongue pressing flat against your clit and dragging in long, unrelenting strokes. he moans into you, deep and greedy, like the taste of your cunt is all he’s ever needed. the vibrations shoot up your spine, your hands scrambling to grip the headboard, the sheets, anything.

you try to lift off—just a little, just to breathe—but he holds you tighter, arms flexing, anchoring you in place.

“no,” he groans against you. “stay. you’re not going anywhere.”

his voice is muffled but clear, and it sends another rush of slick from your core straight onto his tongue.

your thighs clamp around his head without meaning to, and instead of backing off, he groans again—louder, messier—and pulls you closer, burying himself deeper between your thighs like your body is his religion.

you’re already shaking, panting, hips rocking against his mouth now in a desperate, aching rhythm. every drag of his tongue, every flick and swirl over your clit, is maddening—precise. practiced. like he’s memorized you. like his entire existence is wired to make you fall apart on his face.

his lips suck softly, then harder, the change in pressure making your thighs tremble violently around his head.

“f-fuck, kou—” you gasp, voice caught somewhere between a cry and a moan, your head falling back as your hands scramble to brace yourself against the headboard.

your legs threaten to lift, to flee the overwhelming pressure building low in your belly, but he’s not letting you go anywhere. his arms only tighten around your thighs, pulling you down, locking you in place like your pussy belongs to his mouth and his mouth alone.

he groans in response—needy, wrecked, starved—and the sound vibrates directly against your clit, sending your hips into another desperate grind against his face.

“fuck,” you whimper again, eyes fluttering open just enough to glance at the mirror.

the sight nearly undoes you.

you—naked, flushed, breasts bouncing with every trembling breath. your thighs draped over bokuto’s broad shoulders, his silver hair buried between your legs, thick arms holding you down like he’ll die if you pull away. his muscles flex with each lick, his body completely beneath yours, fully focused on worshiping every part of you.

and your face… your mouth open in a soundless moan, tears prickling the corners of your eyes. pleasure turning you into something undone. something sacred.

“kou—kou, i’m—i can’t—” you gasp, but the words blur into a sob as your orgasm tears through you without warning.

your thighs clamp around his face. your hips buck. your body shakes uncontrollably as you scream his name.

bokuto doesn’t stop. he moans, dragging his tongue through your release, licking you through every wave of pleasure like he’s addicted. like you’re feeding him something holy.

“that’s it,” he pants when he finally pulls away for air, lips soaked, voice absolutely wrecked. “that’s my good girl… fuck, you taste so good.”

your body slumps forward, chest heaving, and he holds you against him as you shake—still grounded, still safe, still in his arms.

and his voice, low and reverent beneath you, whispers:

“and i haven’t even started fucking you yet.”

his voice is rough—breathy, low, wrecked from being buried between your thighs—but there’s a glimmer of that boyish awe still in it. like he can’t believe he gets to have you like this. again. and again.

he kisses your thigh once more before gently helping you up. his hands stay warm and steady beneath you, supporting your weight as he lifts you from his face. you whimper at the loss of contact, still trembling, your body sensitive and flushed, your thighs sticky with your release.

“easy,” he soothes, rubbing slow circles over your hips as he helps you lower yourself onto your knees beside him.

you barely have time to catch your breath before he shifts behind you, kneeling. his hands are firm as they guide your body forward, pressing between your shoulder blades, easing your chest down onto the mattress.

“face the mirror, baby,” he murmurs, one hand sliding up your back. “i want you to see everything.”

your arms brace against the bed, head lifting just enough to see your reflection—messy hair, parted lips, heavy eyes, your body trembling but wanting.

bokuto groans as he takes in the sight from behind. “god, you’re beautiful like this.”

he kneels between your thighs, spreading your legs wider with gentle hands, his thumbs brushing over the stretch marks that line your hips and ass.

he leans down, pressing a kiss right at the dip of your spine.

then another. lower.

“these marks,” he murmurs, lips trailing the backs of your thighs. “i love every single one.”

you tremble beneath him, thighs twitching. “kou…”

“shh,” he hushes. “just breathe for me.”

his hand slides between your thighs again, fingers grazing your soaked folds, and he moans at the wetness still dripping from you. “still so ready for me. even after all that.”

you can feel him now—his cock, thick and hard, pressed against the curve of your ass as he lines himself up.

he leans over you, chest against your back, his hand curling under to gently hold your belly.

“you ready for me, pretty girl?”

you nod, voice barely a whisper. “yes. please.”

he smiles against your shoulder, warm and breathless, nuzzling the soft space where your neck meets your spine. his fingers splay across your waist like he’s grounding himself—like you’re the only thing tethering him to reality.

“you always take me so well,” he murmurs, voice thick with awe. “like you were made for me.”

then—slowly—he begins to push in.

and no matter how long you’ve been his, no matter how many nights he’s touched you like this, it never changes: the sheer stretch of him, the way your body strains and clings and burns as he eases inside.

bokuto’s cock is thick—obscenely so. you can feel every vein, every throb, every hot inch of him forcing your walls to part, welcoming the slow invasion.

“f-fuck, kou,” you choke out, fingers clawing at the sheets as your arms buckle. “you’re too big—”

“shh,” he soothes, voice thick and ragged. “you’re doing so good. look how perfect you are for me. look.”

his hand slides beneath your belly, lifting you just slightly, angling you up toward the mirror.

“eyes up, pretty girl,” he murmurs. “don’t look away.”

your gaze flickers up—just barely—and your breath catches.

the reflection is devastating.

you, on all fours, soft thighs parted wide, back arched. your flushed body trembling as bokuto’s hips press close to yours, his thick cock slowly sinking deeper and deeper into your soaked, desperate pussy. your breasts sway with each shaky breath. your mouth hangs open. your lashes flutter.

behind you, bokuto looks wild. hair tousled, jaw clenched, his big hands gripping your hips like he’s barely holding himself back.

you can see the stretch. you can see how full you are.

your pussy flutters around him just at the sight.

“don’t look away,” he repeats, voice darker now. “you keep those eyes on the mirror.”

and you try.

but the heat curling in your gut, the pressure, the fullness—it overwhelms you, makes your head drop with a moan as your arms start to shake.

smack.

you yelp as his palm lands clean across your ass, the sting making your back arch harder.

“kou—”

“what did i say?” he growls, leaning forward, his lips brushing your ear. “keep your eyes on the mirror.”

his hand kneads your ass gently after the spank, soothing it even as his hips grind deeper.

“you need to see what i see,” he breathes. “how beautiful you look when you’re filled up. how fucking perfect this body is. how much it turns me on to watch you take every inch.”

you whimper, eyes fluttering back up—locking onto the mirror again. and you do see it now.

the way your body ripples with every slow thrust. the way your pussy grips him. the stretch of your stomach, your breasts, the marks lining your hips and back—and the way bokuto’s looking at you like you’re a dream.

“look at that pussy,” he groans, pulling out halfway only to thrust back in, deeper this time. “see how she pulls me in? she wants me.”

your whole body jolts, a broken moan falling from your lips.

then—your head tips down again, overwhelmed.

smack.

“eyes up, baby,” he says again, breathless now. “that’s two. don’t make me count to five.”

you whine, tears prickling your lashes as you force your eyes back to the mirror.

“there you go,” he praises, slowing down just enough to grind into you, cock pressing against the softest parts inside you. “you’re doing so fucking good for me.”

his thrusts start to build—steady, deep, intentional. his hand stays splayed beneath your belly, holding you steady, while the other grips your hip tight enough to leave marks.

“i want you to remember this,” he groans. “remember how good you look. how full you feel. how loved you are.”

you sob out a moan, thighs trembling. “kou—i’m close—”

his eyes snap to yours through the mirror, dark and burning, almost feral with how much he wants you. and then you squeal—a short, breathy sound—when he suddenly pulls you upright from your hands and knees.

your back meets his chest, hot and solid, as his arms wrap around you and settle you against him. his cock stays buried inside you the whole time, thick and deep and stretching you even more in this position. you feel your walls pulse around him, overstimulated and raw, and he groans low into your shoulder.

“fuck, baby,” he pants, holding you tightly. “you feel so good. i could stay in you forever.”

your body trembles, soft and flushed, your thighs slick and shaking from how full you are, how overwhelmed you feel—especially when you lock eyes with yourself again in the mirror.

bokuto towers behind you.

his broad chest pressed to your back, skin sticky with sweat. his arms cradling your body like you’re something precious, like you’ll float away if he lets go. his cock still buried deep, your cunt wrapped tight around him. and he’s watching you. watching the way your belly heaves with each breath, the way your breasts bounce with every pulse of your hips, the stretch marks lining your skin like stardust.

his hand—warm and rough—slides down your side, past the curve of your waist, and rests on your stomach.

he massages there, deliberately. slow, grounding, and loving.

"you know what i see when i touch you here?" he murmurs against your skin. “i see the woman who gave me everything. the body that carried our son. the softness i come home to. the warmth that’s always been mine.”

your eyes gloss with emotion.

“don’t look away,” he says again, voice like velvet—deep, commanding, tender. “keep your eyes on that mirror. keep watching how good you look. how perfect you are when i’m inside you.”

his other hand slides up to your breast, cupping it fully, worshiping the weight of it in his palm. he groans under his breath as he massages it gently, thumb brushing over your nipple before rolling it between his fingers until you cry out again.

“look at these,” he rasps. “so full. so fucking heavy. they got even bigger after you had our baby. god, i’m obsessed.”

you gasp again, your whole body tightening. “kou, i’m—i can’t—i need to—”

“shh, i got you.”

his hand trails down, past your stomach, slipping through your slick folds—and the moment his fingers find your clit, your hips jerk and your cunt clamps down around him with a desperate squeeze.

he freezes for a beat.

and then—groans, deep and primal into your ear.

“fuck,” he breathes. “you just clenched so hard, baby. you feel that?”

he rubs your clit in tight, slow circles, never breaking eye contact through the mirror. you’re falling apart in his arms, your body melting, every nerve on fire. he watches every twitch of your mouth, every flutter of your lashes, every tremor in your legs.

and then he leans in, lips brushing your temple.

“you’re gonna come again, aren’t you?”

“i—i can’t stop—”

“don’t,” he growls. “don’t stop. i want it. i need it. come on my cock, baby. let me feel it. let me feel this pussy take me again.”

you cry out, high and raw, but he’s not done.

his hand on your stomach tenses, and he lowers his voice even further—gravel, hunger, possession.

“you know what else this perfect body’s gonna do?”

you can’t answer. you’re shaking too hard. his cock twitches inside you, and his hand keeps working your clit until you’re seeing stars.

“she’s gonna take my cum,” he whispers, lips right at your jaw. “she’s gonna take every drop. and you’re not gonna let a single bit go to waste.”

your walls flutter again, the edge creeping so close it’s unbearable.

“you want it, don’t you?” he growls, breath hot in your ear. “want me to fill you up again. knock you up. fuck another baby into this perfect body.”

his cock is still deep inside you, thick and pulsing, your pussy fluttering with every word he says, every stroke he grinds into you from behind. his chest is pressed to your back, his arm wrapped tightly around your waist, and the other hand still palming your breast like it’s his.

and it is.

you’re his.

his wife. his love. the mother of his son.

and his whole body is trembling behind you like he’s on the edge of worship.

“you remember how beautiful you were?” he murmurs now, his voice dipping low—almost reverent. “when you were pregnant? glowing. fuck, you glowed every day.”

he massages your soft belly with his palm, slow, deliberate, like he’s memorizing it all over again.

“you used to waddle around the kitchen in my shirts and nothing else, holding your back, rubbing your belly, so damn radiant. and your tits—god, baby, they were so swollen. always sore.”

his hand trails up, cupping your breast again, squeezing gently like he’s remembering them full and aching with milk, like he’s picturing you sitting between his thighs, flushed and tired, as he helped ease the ache with his mouth.

“i used to kiss them for you,” he whispers, nuzzling behind your ear. “suck them soft until the pain faded. said it helped you sleep, but fuck, i just loved the taste of you. i still do.”

your moan is wet and broken. you grind back against him, your hips helplessly chasing friction.

“you were so sensitive back then,” he pants, thrusting slowly, so deep you swear you can feel him pressing right against your womb. “so full. so warm. i loved how your body carried our baby—how it carried me.”

his thumb drops to your clit again, circling, rubbing you fast and hard in contrast to the slow drag of his cock inside you. your walls clamp around him and you cry out, overwhelmed.

“fuck,” he groans, gripping you tighter. “you feel that? how you’re squeezing me? like your body already wants it—wants to be bred again.”

you’re gasping, shaking, your orgasm building fast—too fast.

and then, his hand catches your chin and tilts your face up.

“look at me,” he says. “no—look at you.”

he turns your gaze to the mirror. “don’t look away this time. when you cum, you watch yourself. i want you to see what i see.”

your breath stutters, vision hazy, but you obey—and what you see almost pushes you over the edge.

you, flushed and ruined, stretched wide and full of him. your breasts bouncing slightly from the motion of his hips. your belly, soft and glowing with sweat. his thick arms wrapped around you, his cock buried inside you, and his eyes locked on your reflection like you’re something holy.

“you see it?” he murmurs. “see how good you look when you’re falling apart?”

you moan, your body writhing. “kou—i’m—i’m cumming—”

“that’s it,” he growls, thrusting deeper, faster now. “cum for me. fall apart on my cock. watch yourself break.”

you scream, your orgasm crashing into you like a wave. your entire body seizes, your pussy clenching tight around him in pulsing waves, your vision swimming as your hips jerk against his.

and bokuto loses it.

he grunts, his thrusts turning messy, erratic, slamming into your overstimulated cunt with everything he’s got. he fucks you through your orgasm, chasing his own with pure, primal desperation.

“fuck—fuck, baby,” he moans, voice cracking. “you’re milking me—i’m—gonna—”

he slams into you one final time and holds—buried so deep it feels like he’s in your throat.

then he cums.

hot, thick spurts flooding your pussy, pulse after pulse, his cock twitching deep inside you. he groans your name into your shoulder, his body trembling as he fills you to the brim, his arms locked tight around your belly like he’s claiming you again—all of you.

he stays like that for a long moment, breathing hard, lips pressed against your neck.

“you’re mine,” he whispers, softer now. “always have been. always will be.”

his fingers slip between your legs again, pressing gently at your cunt as his cum starts to leak around him.

“look at that,” he murmurs, kissing your shoulder. “filled you up so good, you can’t even hold it in.”

you whimper, body trembling from sensitivity, exhaustion, love.

and then he kisses the back of your neck — slow, tender, proud.

“you ready to make another baby with me?” he breathes, voice low and wrecked. “’cause i’m not stopping until this pretty pussy keeps it.”

he meant it.

bokuto was insatiable.

you thought it would end there — the way your thighs shook, how his cum leaked down your legs, how your body trembled in his arms — but no. he reminded you with every grip of your hips, every reverent kiss down your spine, that his love wasn’t soft tonight. it was devouring.

he bent you over the vanity next, hand gripping your jaw so you could see how wild you looked taking him again, your slick dripping down your thighs.

he took you pressed to the wall, one of your legs thrown over his shoulder, whispering against your ear how this body made him a father, how it would again.

and then — in the center of the room — he laid you down on the floor.

mating press.

your knees pinned to your chest, your belly soft beneath his palms, his body heavy over yours, cock driving into you slow and deep.

“you feel that?” he grunted, his pace bruising. “this is how i know it’ll stick. how your pussy was meant to keep me.”

you sobbed his name — again.

your body gave in completely, writhing beneath him as another orgasm tore through you. and then another. and another, until your voice was barely a whisper and your limbs were limp, trembling, surrendered entirely to the man still pressed so deeply inside you.

your eyes were glassy, unfocused, your lips red and parted, throat raw from the way he'd made you scream for him. your cunt was throbbing, messy and soaked and overflowing with everything he’d poured into you.

you were shaking — overstimulated, dazed, ruined in the most loving way.

you felt so full.

so warm.

every inch of you pulsed with the weight of him — his body, his love, his release.

bokuto leaned over you slowly, body still blanketing yours in the final position — that tight, delicious mating press. your thighs were spread wide, knees pinned by the strength of his arms. he hadn’t pulled out. his cock was still buried inside you, twitching gently, warm and thick, keeping every drop in place.

“look at you,” he murmured, forehead resting against yours, lips brushing your cheek. “you took it all.”

he lifted himself just enough to trail a hand down your soft, sweat-slick stomach. his palm splayed wide across the curve, warm and gentle, his thumb brushing the faint stretch marks with reverence. he watched the way your stomach rose and fell under his touch, your breath still shallow, uneven.

“you feel that?” he whispered. “how full you are?”

you let out a breathless whimper, and he groaned low against your ear.

“with how much i filled you up, baby,” he rasped, voice full of pride and hunger and love, “you’re gonna be pregnant again in no time.”

his hips rolled forward slowly — just a little — and you gasped, your body instinctively trying to clamp down around him again despite the overstimulation.

“gonna get to see you like that all over again,” he breathed, kissing down your jawline. “all round and glowing. tits heavy. belly soft and full of our baby. fuck, you were already perfect, and then you went and gave me a son. and i didn’t think i could love you more, but i did.”

he kissed you — deeply, slowly, like a man who had nowhere else to be.

you moaned into his mouth, and tears prickled behind your eyes — not from pain, not even from pleasure — but from the way he held you, like you were sacred. his.

he pulled back and looked down at you, eyes still hazy with lust but now softened at the edges. his thumb brushed the damp hair off your forehead. “hey,” he murmured. “you okay?”

you nodded, voice shaky. “mm-hmm… just—feel so full.”

he chuckled, low and tender. “yeah, you are. i made sure of that.”

you laughed faintly, and he kissed your forehead before gently, gently easing himself out of you.

you whimpered at the emptiness, the slow leak of his cum slipping out between your thighs.

bokuto caught it — cupping your pussy with his palm as he reached for your thigh with the other hand, coaxing them closed. “not wasting a single drop,” he muttered. “need you to keep it in for me.”

then — slow, careful, loving — he shifted you into his arms and picked you up off the floor like you weighed nothing.

you whimpered softly, nuzzling into his chest, dazed and raw and utterly spent. but his grip was steady. protective. sure. bokuto held you like you were the most precious thing in the world — and to him, you were.

his voice rumbled low as he kissed your hair, “let’s get you cleaned up, pretty girl.”

he walked you to the bathroom, one arm under your thighs, the other wrapped securely around your back. the lights were low, casting everything in warm gold — just enough to see the tenderness in his eyes.

he gently set you down on the bathroom counter, making sure you were stable before brushing your hair behind your ears.

“stay here for me, yeah?” he said softly, thumb stroking your cheek. “just a second.”

you nodded weakly, legs still trembling from how thoroughly he’d ruined you.

he turned to the tub, opening the faucet with a practiced hand, testing the water until it was the perfect warm. then he poured in your favorite bath soak — the one you always kept in the back of the cabinet, the one you only used on nights you really needed comfort.

he added a few drops of oil, swirled the water until it clouded and steamed with calming lavender and vanilla. the scent filled the air instantly.

you watched him from the mirror — broad back, tousled hair, strong hands moving with such care. it made something flutter in your chest.

he glanced at you, eyes softening. “almost ready.”

once the tub was full, he turned back to you, stepping between your thighs. his hands cradled your hips, and he kissed your forehead before trailing his lips down your cheek.

“you did so good tonight,” he whispered, voice thick with love. “i know i was a little much… but fuck, i just couldn’t help myself. you’re too perfect.”

you leaned into him, letting his warmth soothe the ache between your thighs.

he helped you down gently, one hand holding yours, the other steady at your back as he guided you into the bath. the water welcomed you like a hug.

bokuto knelt beside the tub, his palm warm and grounding as it slid down your arm. “gonna wash your hair, okay?” he murmured. “then your back… and everything else.”

you gave a small, sleepy hum, melting further into the fragrant warmth of the bath. the soft scent of lavender curled in the steam, your skin flushed from heat and afterglow. your muscles were spent, your thighs sore, your pussy still tender from how many times he’d pulled you apart — but your heart felt light. your body was still trembling with the memory of him, but wrapped in peace.

you heard the water shift again — not from your own movement, but from his.

you opened your eyes just in time to see bokuto stand, fully naked, thick thighs flexing, bare chest flushed and glistening with sweat. his cock hung heavy between his legs, still spent but twitching faintly at the sight of you in the water — your body soft, glowing, marked up from head to toe with his kisses, his grip, his love.

“you didn’t think i was gonna let you bathe alone, did you?” he grinned, stepping into the tub behind you. “not after i ruined you like that.”

bokuto slid into the bath behind you, his broad frame easing into the water with practiced care. his strong thighs bracketing yours beneath the surface, his chest flush to your back, skin to skin. the bathwater sloshed softly around you both, the scent of lavender and vanilla blooming thick in the air, curling like a lullaby in the rising steam.

he exhaled deeply, his arms immediately wrapping around your middle, palms spreading wide across your soft belly like a promise.

you let yourself melt into him.

“mmm… you okay?” he asked, voice soft and gruff against your ear, his lips brushing your damp skin.

you nodded, barely able to respond. your limbs felt heavy from release after release. your pussy still throbbed — used and full. your breasts ached from how often he’d touched and worshipped them. your voice was wrecked from the way he’d made you scream. but despite it all, your chest was light. your body was warm. you were loved.

“you’re amazing,” bokuto murmured again as if reading your thoughts, his hands stroking up your sides. “i mean it. i could hold you like this forever.”

you smiled softly, cheek pressing to his shoulder.

he kissed your temple, then reached for the washcloth, dipping it into the water and wringing it out with gentle fingers. when he brought it to your skin, the warmth made you shiver.

he started at your collarbone, working slowly downward — your chest, between your breasts, under them. his palm lifted the weight of one, then the other, fingers gentle as he cleaned them carefully. your nipples, still sensitive, stiffened instantly, and you gasped lightly.

“sorry,” he whispered, not sounding sorry at all. “just love how soft you are.”

his cloth slid lower, over your belly, tracing the stretch marks with such care it made your throat tighten. you didn’t need to look to know he was staring — the way he always did — like you were art. like every mark on your skin was something sacred.

his voice dropped again. “i love your body so much, you know that?”

you nodded, not trusting your voice.

and then his hand dipped between your thighs, parting them under the water. you tensed at first, a small gasp catching in your throat, but he didn’t rush. he took his time, sweeping between your folds, careful around the raw ache that lingered from how deeply he’d claimed you.

his fingers brushed against the oversensitive bundle of nerves and your hips jerked. “kou…”

he immediately stopped. “too much?”

you shook your head quickly — then surprised even yourself with the next words that left your lips.

“…can you…” you hesitated, voice barely a whisper, “can you finger me again?”

bokuto blinked, as if trying to decide whether he heard you right. his grip around your waist tightened slightly, chest rising behind you.

“you want me to?” he asked, low and careful. “after everything?”

you swallowed. “i just want to feel you again. like that. just once more. please.”

he didn’t answer with words at first. just pressed a long, slow kiss to your neck, a soft groan humming through his chest.

“you don’t have to ask me twice, baby,” he whispered, one hand sliding lower beneath the water again. “but we go slow, okay? real slow. i’ll stop if it’s too much.”

you nodded.

and then you felt it — the subtle stretch as one thick finger slid into you, slow and unhurried. the water around you rippled, your hips rising slightly despite yourself.

you gasped — body trembling under the slow, careful press of his fingers inside you. you were still so sensitive, still pulsing with the aftershocks of everything he'd already given you. every inch of you felt flushed, open, raw in the best way. the bathwater lapped softly around your bodies, steam curling over your skin as the scent of lavender lingered thick in the air.

his fingers stretched you gently, curling slow and deep inside, and it was almost too much — too intimate, too tender, too good.

“still so warm,” bokuto murmured into your neck, his breath making your skin prickle. “still so wet for me.”

and then one of his hands slid upward — over the swell of your stomach, across the curve of your chest — before cupping one heavy breast in his palm. he groaned softly at the feel of it, like he still couldn’t believe you were real. how soft. how full. how his.

his thumb brushed lightly over your nipple, and you arched, breath hitching.

“fuck,” you whispered, voice breaking.

bokuto smiled against your jaw. “i know, baby. you're so sensitive right now, aren't you?”

he pinched your nipple gently between his fingers — not enough to hurt, but just enough to make you jolt. the dual sensation — his fingers stretching your pussy while his other hand teased your chest — left you whining, breath coming in shallow gasps.

“kou—” your voice cracked again, hips rolling instinctively toward his hand, searching for more, for deeper, for everything.

“yeah?” he coaxed, nuzzling into your shoulder. “what is it, pretty girl? too much?”

you shook your head — or tried to — as your fingers gripped his thighs under the water. “n-no. i… i need it.”

his breath caught, his rhythm stuttering for just a beat.

“then let me take care of you,” he said, voice low and reverent. “let me make you feel everything.”

his thumb rolled over your nipple again, slow and purposeful, and his fingers inside you pressed deeper — hitting just the right spot, right where you ached, again and again. your body was squirming in his lap now, overwhelmed by sensation, trembling from overstimulation and how deeply he knew you.

his mouth found the shell of your ear.

“you’re so fucking perfect like this,” he whispered, his lips brushing the shell of your ear. “soft and sensitive and all mine.”

his fingers curled deeper inside you, and then his pace began to pick up — still gentle, but more deliberate now, like he knew exactly what you needed, what your body was begging for even before you could ask.

his thumb never left your nipple, rubbing it in slow, steady circles as your chest heaved, your moans spilling out freely now.

the pressure built fast, heat blooming low in your belly as the wet sound of his fingers moving inside you filled the bathroom, layered with your whimpers and the soft splash of water. the rhythm was hypnotic — the pulse of pleasure spiraling up your spine with every stroke, every squeeze, every word murmured into your skin.

“you’re gonna come for me again, aren’t you?” he murmured, nosing along your neck. “even after everything. fuck, baby… look at you.”

your body tensed, your back arched, and your head dropped back fully onto his shoulder.

“kou—i—” your voice caught as the wave overtook you.

and then you shattered.

your body convulsed in the water, pleasure crashing through you in long, slow pulses that dragged a sob from your throat. your walls clenched around his fingers, your thighs trembling against his, your hand gripping his arm like a lifeline.

bokuto held you through it, murmuring praise against your skin — soft, breathless things like “that’s it,” and “so good for me,” and “i’ve got you, baby, i’ve got you.”

he slowed his hand gradually, easing you through the high, never rushing, never letting go.

when your breathing finally steadied, when your body sagged back against his chest, spent and heavy, he kissed your cheek and held you tighter.

“still with me?” he whispered, voice thick with warmth.

you nodded weakly, your breath still shallow, your body limp and trembling in his arms. every inch of you ached in that blissful, used way — soft and sore and full of him.

bokuto kissed your temple, slow and lingering, and murmured, “good girl.”

he shifted slightly behind you, never letting go, and reached again for the cloth he’d set aside earlier. the water had grown cooler now, but his touch was still warm — always warm.

“let me clean you up again,” he said softly, more to himself than to you. “you did so good, baby.”

he dipped the cloth into the water, wrung it out, and gently parted your legs again beneath the surface. this time, there was no teasing, no pressure — just quiet reverence in the way he moved. his hand was firm but careful, wiping away the slick, the stickiness, and the mess he’d made of you.

you whimpered softly at the contact — your body still tender, your thighs twitching reflexively with every slow pass of the cloth between your folds.

“i know, i know,” he soothed, his free hand holding your thigh steady under the water. “you’re sensitive. just one more second, pretty girl.”

he was meticulous. thorough. he cleaned every trace of your shared high with that same unhurried love — the kind that never demanded, never took, only gave. he rinsed the cloth and went again, brushing over your skin, careful around the curve of your belly, the inner crease of your thigh, and the backs of your knees.

you were pliant in his arms now, your head tucked into the crook of his neck, barely moving except for the slow rise and fall of your chest.

once he was sure you were clean, he tossed the cloth to the edge of the tub and wrapped his arms back around you, holding you close again, skin to skin, his lips grazing your shoulder in a kiss that lingered.

“all clean,” he whispered. “all mine.”

the bathwater had cooled, the steam fading from the mirror, but his hands never stopped being warm. never stopped holding you like you were something sacred.

you stayed against him a moment longer, your head on his shoulder, heart beating steady in his chest. there was no rush. not with him. bokuto always made time stretch for you, made quiet feel like love.

when you finally nodded, wordlessly telling him you were ready to get out, he moved first — careful not to jostle you as he stood. he grabbed the softest towel you owned, the big one you both shared sometimes, and opened it wide.

he helped you to your feet like he was lifting something breakable. he didn’t just hold the towel out for you — he wrapped it around you himself, tucking it around your chest before bringing you close, enveloping you in his body again.

his nose nuzzled your temple. “c’mere, baby. let me take care of you.”

he carried you out of the bathroom like you weighed nothing, like you weren’t still trembling from everything he’d given you — like you weren’t the heaviest thing in his heart.

he set you on the edge of the bed, crouching in front of you. “stay here. i’ll get everything ready.”

you watched as he padded across the room — still naked, still damp, but moving with the unshakable intent of a man on a mission.

he returned with your favorite lotion, a fresh pair of soft cotton clothes, and another towel. then, without a word, he knelt in front of you again, gently patting your arms and shoulders dry.

“you always take care of everyone else,” he murmured. “let me do this for you.”

he rubbed the towel over your legs, your back, careful not to tug or rush. his fingers worked with intention — not just drying you, but loving you in every pass.

and then he opened the bottle of lotion and warmed some between his hands.

he started at your shoulders, massaging slow, soft circles into your skin. you sighed at the first touch — already more relaxed than you’d realized.

his hands glided down your arms, around your elbows, to your wrists and fingers. “still with me?” he asked softly.

you nodded.

when he moved lower, to your chest and belly, he didn’t just pass over them. he lingered — fingertips pressing gently into your softest places, reverent, unhurried.

his thumbs traced the stretch marks that curved along your sides and lower abdomen. the marks you'd once resented, once tried to hide.

he didn’t hide them. he touched them like they were beautiful.

“these,” he whispered, fingers brushing over one gently, “remind me of what your body’s done. what it’s given us.”

he leaned forward and kissed just above your belly button.

“you’re still the most beautiful thing i’ve ever seen.”

your throat tightened. “kou…”

he looked up, eyes shining with so much softness it nearly undid you. “you think i don’t notice how hard you are on yourself? how sometimes you avoid the mirror? baby, don’t. don’t you dare. not when i look at you and see the woman i married. the woman who made me a father. the love of my life. you’re everything.”

his voice cracked a little — just a fraction — and your chest clenched.

he moved lower again, smoothing the lotion across your thighs and calves, his palms broad and soothing. when he reached the stretch marks along your hips, he took his time, rubbing them in slow, circular motions, whispering praise between kisses he pressed gently against them.

you let out a shaky breath.

then — like it was second nature — he reached for the clothes he’d laid out.

“arms up, pretty girl.”

you obeyed without thinking, trusting him. he slipped the soft tank top over your head, pulled it down gently, smoothing it over your stomach like he was tucking in love itself. then came your shorts — he knelt again, guiding your legs one at a time, pulling the fabric up over your hips with so much care.

once you were dressed, his hands lingered at your waist. his thumbs stroked the skin just beneath the hem of your top, then he pressed his forehead to your belly and stayed there, breathing you in.

you let your fingers card through his damp hair.

he looked up slowly, his eyes soft and steady.

“i love every part of you,” he whispered, voice barely audible over your breathing. “every change. every curve. every scar. every stretch mark. i loved you before. i love you now. i’ll love you through everything that’s still to come.”

your heart clenched at the weight of it — not heavy, but grounding. solid. the kind of love that never asked you to shrink, only to exist as you are. the kind that looked at you and saw home.

bokuto finally pulled back, kissed the space just above your heart one last time, then stood to pull on his pajama pants — low-slung on his hips, the waistband still damp from his skin. he didn’t bother with a shirt. he rarely did. and tonight, in the dim golden light of the room, with the scent of lotion still clinging to your skin, you were grateful for the view.

he returned to your side immediately, taking your hand as if it was a reflex. “bedtime, pretty girl,” he said with a sleepy grin, tugging you toward the pillows.

you let him guide you down, your body too relaxed and content to do anything but lean into him. as soon as you were under the covers, he was on you — not with hunger this time, but with an explosion of affection.

“mmwah! mmwah! mmwah!” he planted kisses all over your face — your cheeks, your forehead, your jaw, even the tip of your nose — with exaggerated little sounds for each one.

you laughed, trying to squirm away. “kou! i just got clean!”

“you’re my wife!” he declared proudly, grinning as he peppered your temple with more. “my perfect, beautiful wife! i can kiss you as much as i want!”

“not if i drown in your spit.”

he gasped dramatically, clutching his chest. “you wound me.”

but the way he was smiling — eyes crinkling, dimples out, full of warmth — you knew he was exactly where he wanted to be. the soft, affectionate post-aftercare bokuto was replaced now by the one you fell in love with — boisterous, a little ridiculous, and entirely yours.

he flopped beside you, wrapping his arms around your waist again, curling in like he never wanted to leave your side.

“you think they noticed we didn’t show up?” you asked quietly, snuggling deeper into him.

he snorted. “baby, they definitely noticed. hinata probably texted. sakusa’s probably relieved. and atsumu’s definitely making up stories.”

“kou,” you groaned, burying your face into his chest again.

he laughed, fingers tracing slow circles against the soft stretch of your lower back. “let ‘em talk. i got my pretty girl in my arms and nothing else matters.”

“we probably looked really dressed up,” you mumbled. “and then we disappeared.”

bokuto gave a low, amused hum, then nuzzled into your hair. “to be fair, i was a lost cause the moment you walked out in that dress. i was trying to behave, but then you turned around and i saw your back—those stretch marks, your skin, the ribbon? fuck, babe. i blacked out.”

you laughed again, swatting his chest lightly, but he only caught your hand and brought it to his lips, kissing each knuckle.

a beat of silence passed, full of contentment.

then bokuto sighed — soft, warm, and honest — and tucked his chin over your head.

“we should sleep,” he mumbled. “we gotta pick up our little guy tomorrow.”

you smiled, the thought of your son blooming in your chest like something sunlit and steady.

“he’s probably worn grandma out.”

“she’ll survive,” bokuto teased. “but we won’t if we show up sleep-deprived and looking freshly wrecked.”

you laughed again, sleep tugging at your limbs.

he adjusted the blanket over you both, arm still around your middle, one hand lazily stroking your stomach beneath your shirt. every touch was gentler now — no rush, no pressure. just love. thick and lingering in the silence.

“i missed this,” he whispered after a pause.

“what?” you asked sleepily.

“you. us. not just the sex — but the way it feels after. like the world got quiet again.”

you smiled into his chest. “i missed it too.”

“then let’s never wait this long again,” he said, kissing the crown of your head. “deal?”

you nodded, eyelids heavy, heart full.

and with his warmth wrapped around you, with soft kisses still ghosting over your skin, you finally let yourself fall asleep — loved, safe, and completely at home.

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monserelates · 1 month ago

Text

Clueless Idiots ; James Potter.

⇨f!reader x james potter

⇨summary: Just Y/N and James being clueless little cuties.

⇨warnings/notes: fluff fluff fluff fluffy fluff, use of y/n, reader is female, she and james are really oblivious

⇨a/n: once again with my favorite trope 🥹, I just love writing about James and writing fluff. If you guys have any requests you can definitely share them i’d be really grateful! Hope you enjoy <3

There were very few constants at Hogwarts.

One: Filch’s cat was always watching.

Two: The fourth step on the Charms staircase would always try to eat your foot.

And three: James Potter and Y/N Y/L/N were practically glued at the hip.

It wasn’t official. Of course not. Because nothing was ever that easy with the two of them. They were best friends, partners-in-crime, even, and the subject of at least two weekly betting pools run by both the Gryffindor Common Room and the Hogwarts staff lounge.

“Oh, come on,” McGonnagall muttered behind her teacup one morning as the pair entered the Great Hall, James slinging his arm over Y/N’s shoulder, Y/N stealing a bit of toast from his plate without blinking. “If he tucks her hair behind her ear one more time, I’m raising my bet to ten Galleons.”

Dumbledore sipped his coffee, smiling fondly. “They remind me of a young Lily and James.”

“They are James and—never mind.”

“Minerva,” Sprout said gently, “they’re teenagers. You can’t force these things.”

“I’m not forcing anything. I’m simply pointing out that if they don’t confess by Valentine’s Day, I’m deducting points for excessive obliviousness.”

Meanwhile, back at the Gryffindor table:

“Do you think I’d look good with a moustache?” James asked, munching on bacon.

Y/N wrinkled her nose. “What kind of question is that?”

“You didn’t say no.”

“I’m saying absolutely not. You’d look like an undercover Auror going through a midlife crisis.”

James grinned. “So… no moustache.”

“Not if you want me to keep sitting next to you.”

He paused for half a second—half a second too long—and then laughed.

She didn’t notice. Or at least she pretended not to.

Sirius, sitting across from them, rolled his eyes so hard he nearly fell off the bench. “You two are unbearable.”

Remus didn’t look up from his book. “It’s like watching two penguins try to flirt by throwing fish at each other.”

“Penguins?”

“Very monogamous creatures,” Remus said. “Mate for life.”

Y/N blinked. “That’s oddly sweet.”

“I was being sarcastic.”

James reached for more toast and brushed her hand accidentally. Their eyes locked for one second too long.

Sirius groaned into his pumpkin juice.

⸻

Later that day, the pair was in the library, sharing one textbook, their knees brushing under the table. Y/N didn’t flinch. James did. Barely. Just enough to notice.

“Did you finish your Potions essay?” she whispered.

“Yeah,” he lied.

“You’re lying.”

“Yeah,” he admitted.

She snorted. “Come on, Potter, focus.”

“You said my last one was ‘shockingly decent.’ That’s high praise.”

“I meant its like a shocked cat watching fireworks, but sure.”

He grinned.

They were so close, heads bent together, she could see the tiny freckle beneath his left eye. He smelled like broomstick polish and cinnamon.

She looked away first.

⸻

That weekend, they sat together at the Ravenclaw versus Slytherin quidditch match, they had bet 10 galleons that Ravenclaw will win—James with one arm slung lazily around the back of her seat, Y/N leaning into his side to shout over the noise.

“Ten more points and we win!”

“I’ll take you to Honeydukes if we do!”

“You always take me to Honeydukes!”

“Then I’ll buy you everything in the front window.”

“Even the sugar quills?”

“Especially the sugar quills.”

Lily leaned over to Marlene. “Do you think they know they’re flirting?”

Marlene raised an eyebrow. “Do you think Hogsmeade knows they’re flirting?”

⸻

Later, as the Gryffindors spilled back into the common room, James and Y/N flopped onto the couch together. James didn’t hesitate before pulling her legs into his lap.

“Oi, Y/N,” he said, grinning, “you ever going to tell me your type?”

She sipped her butterbeer. “I don’t have one.”

“Liar.”

“Okay, fine. I like boys who are funny. And brave. And maybe a little too loyal for their own good.”

His smile faltered for half a second.

“And,” she added, “he’d have to care a lot. Like… secretly-loves-dogs, picks-flowers-he-won’t-admit-to, remembers-how-I-take-my-tea kind of caring.”

He blinked.

“Oh.”

“Why do you ask?”

“No reason.”

Remus, passing behind the couch, muttered, “I swear to Merlin, if one of you doesn’t kiss the other in the next forty-eight hours, I’m hexing both of you into next week.”

"What's that, moony?" You asked, oblivious.

"Oh, nothing. I was just talking to myself,"

⸻

Back in the staff lounge, the betting board had been updated:

“Confession before Halloween – 3 Galleons”

“Caught kissing in a broom closet – 5 Galleons”

“They still don’t know they’re in love – priceless”

“I’m changing my bet,” Sprout said cheerfully. “Two Galleons on Y/N realizing first.”

“I say it’s Potter,” said Slughorn. “He’s been writing her name in his notes for months.”

McGonagall smirked. “I’ll double it if it’s her who kisses him.”

⸻

That night, as the fire crackled low and the common room emptied out, James stretched.

“I should go to bed.”

Y/N didn’t move. “’Night, James.”

But he didn’t go.

Instead, he leaned down slowly, close enough for her to see the freckles on his nose and the look in his eyes.

“Goodnight, Y/N.

She blinked.

For a second, she thought he was going to kiss her.

For a second, she almost let him.

But then—

He straightened up, ruffled her hair, and walked off to the boys’ dorms.

And she sat there, heart thudding, cursing the universe and every stupid bet McGonagall was definitely winning.

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gamblersdoll · 1 year ago

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mating press with kirishima actually?!??

“kiri—! light up!” you cry out, pushing at his arms and tears rolling down your fat cheeks.

“cant baby, need’ta fuck this pussy.” he groans, slamming his bodyweight into your cervix. your legs hang off of his shoulders, knees bent to your ears and he pants.

drool dribbles from his mouth and pools on your cleavage, dribbling down to your neck and collarbone. “fuuck!— please, ohmygod!” you pant, throwing your head back into the pillow and you grip his biceps.

his knees dig into the mattress, begging his body to not give in and fuck you good. “real men fuck they girls good, right? got’ta fucks you, got’ta make this cunt know who owns it.”

“is yours’! i promise!”

“i know baby, does she though?” he asks, taking a thick thumb and drawing circles into your clit. you whimper, toes curling and walls tightening around his cock.

its already a struggle, him being so big boy. standing at six foot seven and three hundred pounds. his cock was already the size of a coke bottle.

“kiri– daddy please! cant take it— i cant!” you plead and moan, nails digging into his skin and causing him to bleed out just a bit. you nevermind that, eyes rolling back to your skull and your calf cramps, feeling yourself flood his groin and hearing him groan.

“there you go, thats my girl. oh, thats my girl baby.” he praises, leaning down—which pushes his cock deeper— and kisses your cheeks. “did so good fer’me, oh baby.”

#kirishima x black reader #mha eijiro kirishima #eijiro kirishima smut #bnha eijiro kirishima #bhna kirishima #kirishima eijiro x reader #kirishima smut #mha kirishima #kirishima x reader #eijirou kirishima #mha eijirou #bnha eijirou #kirishima eijirou #boku no hero acedamia #boku no hero academia #my hero acedamia #my hero academia #mha smut #dvorahasks

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science-hoes · 3 months ago

Text

Kaleidoscope

Jack Abbot x Reader

Warnings: Suicidal ideation

Description: Jack likes to find his peace and quiet on the roof of the hospital, but someone interrupts his morning routine.

Jack Abbot Masterlist

—

Dr. Jack Abbot gave Michaelangelo’s sculptures a run for their money when it came to stone cold emotions. He never smiled, never laughed. No reason to, in his opinion. Perlah claimed to have seen him crack a smirk one time when a med student spilled their energy smoothie in Dr. Robby’s lap. But nobody believed her.

When he was younger, before his deployment tours, he laughed all the time. He was a class clown, according to all of his elementary and high school teachers. But the light in Jack Abbot died with every gunshot wound, every amputated limb, every final breath. And it didn’t improve when he came to the States.

He flirted with the roof of the hospital quite often. Never planning to jump, but also never certain that he wanted to go back down the safe way either. He knew many of his former troop mates chose to follow through with it, but he couldn’t bring himself to do it. Maybe because he knew the pain it would cause, and that seemed like it would be an inconvenience to everyone around him.

One day after a grueling night shift filled with death and pain, he stood at the ledge of the hospital’s roof again. His toes hung over the concrete. Just enough thrill to numb the existential dead. And he heard the door to the roof open.

Michael fucking Robinavitch. He thought to himself.

His friend and colleague always managed to find him during times like these, always talking him back to the safe side of the guard rail. But he didn’t hear any lecture coming from behind him. No sarcastic jokes. Instead, he heard crying.

Jack turned around and saw you on your knees, hands in your lap, and hunched over sobbing. The soldier in him took over, and he hopped over the guard rail to run to your side in concern that you might have been attacked or injured.

When you heard his footsteps, you froze in panic. You didn’t see him when you came outside.

“Are you okay? Are you hurt?” Jack asked, kneeling down to your level.

You stared at your senior attending with red, puffy eyes. The sniffling continued, but your embarrassment managed to curb your tears. “No, sir. I’m okay.” You said, wiping away any watery evidence from your cheeks.

Jack stared at you, like he couldn’t figure out any other reason why you would cry if you were physically okay. “Then why are you up here?” The slight annoyance in his voice signaled that maybe you had interrupted his own privacy on the roof.

You shrugged, shaking your head as the tears welled up again. “I just don’t know how to do it.” You whispered. “How can I go home and sleep when I just watched three people die? I watched a toddler die because she snuck into the neighbor’s pool.” And the sobs came back like a tidal wave.

Jack sighed heavily, looking around as if there might be someone else to handle your breakdown instead of him. He pulled his lips in a tight line, coming to terms that you were his problem. “Listen, kid. You’ve gotta bag up the feelings and shove ‘em in the closet. That’s the only way to be a doctor.” He lectured like he had given the speech to every single intern who walked through the doors of the Pitt. Which he had. “The more you do that, the more you’ll be able to dissociate.”

You looked up to him, vision blurred from the tears, disgusted. “What? Just so I can end up like a heartless prick like you?” You hissed, not caring if he had been your boss for the last 12 hours. Your shift was technically over anyway.

And that’s when it happened. Jack Abbot smiled. He grinned, showing off the picture-perfect smile that nobody downstairs had ever seen. Not even old timers like Robby or Dana. And then he laughed. If the circumstances hadn’t been different, it would have been a laugh that you daydreamed of hearing again. But he was laughing in your face as you cried about the loss of several patients that night.

“Are you fucking laughing at me?” You asked, wanting to slap that charming smile off his face.

Jack’s shoulders shook with more laughter at your words, and he hunched over from the contractions in his diaphragm. You were ready to stand up and leave him on the roof alone, keeled over like a hyena. But when he looked up again, his eyes matched yours with sorrow and tears. Despite his laughter, he was breaking.

Your brows furrowed at the confusing sight in front of you, but the empathy in your heart ordered your hands to grab his, holding them tightly. Whether it was for your sake or his, you didn’t know.

Jack pulled your hands close to his chest, and his laughs turned to gasps for air. His face scrunched as he tried to fight back whatever dam was crumbling inside of him. Within 30 seconds, you had seen more emotion than anyone in the Pitt had ever seen during his career there. You reached a hand to caress his jaw and tilt his head up to look at you.

When he opened his eyes, you were met with a kaleidoscope of colors. The rising sun refracted brown, blue, and green from his hazel eyes, and you knew in that moment that no artist could ever replicate the beauty staring straight back at you. Despite the reddening in his sclera that matched yours, you were awestruck.

Jack raised a calloused hand to grasp the forearm that supported his head, and he leaned into your hold. You both stayed that way for a long time, with you gently stroking a thumb on his cheek and him holding onto you like it was his only tether to reality. The labored breaths eventually returned to normal rhythm. The tears stopped flowing.

After what felt like hours, he finally spoke. “You’re a good doctor.”

You tilted your head at the unexpected praise. “What do-“

“I’ve watched you the last few days. You have a personal touch that most ER docs don’t have. It’s different.” He mused.

Jack Abbot didn’t just toss around compliments. Hell, he never said anything nice. Not even to his pediatric patients. You traced your fingers from his stubbled jaw to the silver laced curls of his scalp, running through them gently. He nearly fell forward into your arms at the contact, but he only let his head tilt down.

“I guess you aren’t really a prick.” You said.

Jack smiled again and chuckled. You wanted to hold onto that image forever. “No, I am a prick.” He countered.

You giggled at his confession. Without much thought, you wrapped your arms around his chest and rested your head on his shoulder. Jack froze, his brain unable to process the embrace. But eventually, one hand came to rest on the small of your back and the other to the back of your head, fingers weaving through your hair. He breathed in your scent of vanilla and sweat from the shift, feeling intoxicated.

When you eventually pulled away to look at him again, Jack finally admired your beauty for the first time in person. The way the sunrise glittered off your eyes, the orange flow giving life to your sleepy features. He curled the hand that cradled your head around to your cheek, and his rough thumb brushed over your lips.

“Are you tired?” He asked quietly, almost a whisper.

Your lips instinctively followed his thumb as it traced your skin. “Yes.”

A moment of silence. “Do you want to sleep with me?”

You could see in his gorgeous, weary eyes that there was no sexual implication. For now, anyway. Only the opening of his soul, pining for a peaceful rest. You finally pressed the tiniest kiss on his thumb. “Yes.” You breathed.

And Jack smiled again.

#the pitt #the pitt hbo #Jack abbot #dr Jack abbot #jack abbot x reader #dr Jack Abbott #Jack Abbott #Jack Abbott x reader #Shawn Hatosy #the pitt fanfiction

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traveler-at-heart · 5 months ago

Text

Run, baby, run

Summary: Natasha is very competitive, and that includes your daughter.

Natasha Romanoff x F!R

Based on some real life events lol

Natasha was a lot of different things for many people. Depending on who you ask -friends, foes, family- she could be stubborn, deadly, relentless. To you she was kind, loving and supportive, in a way that no one else knew.

You would all agree on one thing, though.

Natasha was too competitive.

Being married for three years, you’d grown used to it. As a matter of fact, it could be entertaining especially if she was playing pool or darts against the boys.

But this morning, when she shows you the flyer, you actually have to look twice, sure that Natasha lost her mind.

“Baby crawl race?”

“Yeah, only for babies under one year. You know, they set a track and time them…”

“I mean, I figured. I just… why would we want Anya to do that?”

Your daughter perks up when she hears her name being called and you both smile.

Anya is ten months old, but she’s way advanced for her age. It must be Natasha’s genes, because you’re sure that before she turns one, she will be walking or even running after her other mother.

“It sounds fun”

“And winning has nothing to do with it?” you press, reading about the prizes. “Everything listed here are things we already have. A stroller, a crib… ooh, a formula machine, fancy”

“We can still register if we leave now” Natasha picks up Anya from her playpen, and the sight of their matching red hair melts your heart as usual.

“Fine. We better get going”

—

To your surprise, there are over a dozen babies registered to compete. Natasha takes care of everything as you walk around the store where they’re hosting the event.

She comes back with a smile and a little paper with the number 17 on it.

“Your lucky number” she smiles at you, taking Anya in her arms.

You both watch as other kinds play and stumble around the mat. Most of them seem younger than your daughter, and only a few look close to being one year.

“That one’s gonna be easy to beat” Natasha muses, looking at a small kid that can barely sit.

“Natalia” you slap her arm. “He’s a baby”

“No. They are all competition. And we have no mercy, right, detka?” Natasha insists, bouncing your daughter in her arms.

“Alright, I’m changing her diaper before everything gets crazier” you decide, noticing how there’s a crowd forming around the place where the kids will crawl.

You make small talk with some of the clerks, who seem excited at the prospect of a silly race that will entertain them in the middle of their shift.

By the time you return, Natasha’s quiet, looking at the parents and their children.

“Everything ok?”

“Perfect” she nods, taking Anya in her arms. “Now, kiddo, listen to me, we are Romanoffs. We are fighters and more importantly, winners. So go and make us proud”

Anya responds by giggling and pulling a strand of her mother’s hair. Natasha smiles, saying something in Russian and kissing Anya’s cheek.

The mat is split in half so only two kids can compete at the same time, a screen with a timer behind them.

As expected, some of the kids get distracted by their race mate or crawl around instead of going in a straight line.

“What did I tell you? We’re gonna crush the opponents” Natasha whispers and you slap her arm.

She’s taking this way too seriously.

As you stand next to some parents, Natasha sniffs around, speaking into Anya’s back.

“Baby, did you go potty?”

“I don’t think so” you know Anya frowns and makes a little grunt when she does number two and she’s been pretty quiet this whole time.

“Oh, never mind” she turns to the parents standing next to you. “Not ours, detka”

The parents hurry to the bathroom. There’s a nagging feeling at the back of your mind when you notice how quiet Natasha is. It increases when the parents miss the race because they were stuck chaning a diaper.

Your wife tries to hide her smile, but there’s no way she planned this. Just a coincidence.

Right?

“Babies 10 and 11” the organizer calls. You noticed the girl is older than the other kids, standing out because she can close the distance faster.

“Best time has been 55 seconds. This should be interesting” Natasha comments.

Sure enough, the kid is about to finish when a bright blue ball crosses her path, getting her distracted and making her return to the start line.

The parents try to guide her back but it doesn’t work at all.

“Oh, well”

“Try not to look so happy about it” you whisper, but Natasha just chuckles and places a kiss in your temple.

After a few more minutes, it’s Anya’s turn. You carry her to the start line and Natasha kneels at the end of the mat, keeping her eyes focused on your daughter.

“Three, two, one. Go!”

All Natasha has to do is place her open palm on the mat. Anya’s seen her do it so many times and knows it means one thing: as soon as she touches her mama’s hand, she’ll throw her in the air the way she loves to.

It takes Anya 15 seconds to get to Natasha. Your wife rewards her with her favorite thing, and if it were anyone less graceful and quick, you’d be unnerved by the sight of your daughter kicking her feet while being lifted off the ground.

“Nicely done, pumpkin” you join them, smiling as Anya jumps to your arms.

“A worthy adversary, at last” a man comments as he takes his son to the race. “Let’s see if we can do it better than you”

“Doubt it” Natasha glares but you elbow her, smiling at the man.

“She meant to say, good luck. You’ll do great, sweetheart” you smile at his son, who waves back at you with wide eyes. He’s incredibly cute.

“Fraternizing with the enemy” Natasha tsks.

“He’s a baby, Nat”

“I didn’t like the way the father was looking at you either” Natasha grumbles, leaning forward to kiss you.

Definitely not complaining about her competitive streak now.

As your declared enemy gets ready to race, the father frantically looks around for something lost on their backpack.

“Did you bring it?” his wife insists.

“Yes! The purple elephant! We were playing with it a second ago!”

Apparently, that was their only resource, because the timer starts and their kid is focusing on everything but them.

They manage to finish after two minutes.

“Better luck next time” Natasha comments as they leave, her hand going around your waist.

She’s being so ridiculous but somehow you love it.

The winners are announced, and you cheer when the first place goes to none other than Anya Romanoff.

“Yes, baby. We are the champions” Natasha sings, bouncing her around. Anya has no idea what’s happening, but she’s enjoying the moment.

“Very nice” you comment when the organizers hand you the prize. “Good work, Anya. Keep it up and maybe we won’t have to pay for college”

“Of course she’ll get a scholarship. Or become a professional athlete. Or become president” Natasha says, walking back to the car.

“Oh, those are a lot of things. Maybe she’ll want to focus on just one”

“Nah, she’s got it. She’ll do it all” Natasha kisses Anya’s head and you can’t help but melt.

“Best thing you ever won?” you ask Natasha as you drive back home.

“No, that would be you” she says. “Of course, I mean the bet I made with Tony that I’d get you to date me over him”

“Ugh, you’re so ridiculous” you roll your eyes.

—

The excitement of the race exhausts your daughter, and she’s fast asleep by the time you get home.

You know this won’t last long, so you prepare her clothes to run a bath once she’s up.

As you’re going through her bag, you pull out a toy that’s definitely not Anya’s.

A purple elephant.

“Natalia Alianovna Romanova!” you shout, looking for her.

“Oh-oh” Natasha mutters and clears her throat. “Yes, dear?”

“You took that baby’s toy!”

“I did not! Ok, I did. But look, I timed him when they were practising and Anya’s time was still better. I just really didn’t like the way he was staring at your boobs”

“Mhm, right. Winning was just a plus”

“See? You get me”

“That ball that distracted the other kid was not a mistake either, huh?”

“I don’t know what you mean, darling”

“And the parents that missed the race for changing the diaper?”

“Now, that was just a happy coincidence. The rest, yeah. Totally me”

“Evil! Stealing a toy from a toddler” you wave the purple elephant in her face. Natasha takes it and throws it over her shoulder, wrapping your legs around her waist in a swift motion. “What are you doing?”

“I got you that fancy formula machine, didn’t I? Where’s my prize?”

You laugh against her lips, but it soon turns into a moan, as you feel Natasha’s hands slide down your back to cup your ass.

“Anya's gonna wake up in thirty minutes or less. Can you handle that?”

“I do enjoy a good challenge” Natasha says against your lips, showing you how much she loves to win.

And honestly? After a mind blowing orgasm, you love it too.

#natasha romanoff x reader #natasha romanoff x y/n #natasha romanoff x you

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67bottles-of-milk · 3 months ago

Text

And they were roommates

You and Jason had a pretty good grocery agreement for your university dorm.

~6k words

Part 2

—

Going to university with the explicit goal of teaching maths to high schoolers may not have been the brightest idea but you were going to see it through. Mostly out of spite. Your mother had told you the moment you told her of your career goals she didn’t think you could last even three months. So yeah, you were going to get your maths degree if it killed you. With the way the course was going so far, it very well could. If Gotham didn’t do that first.

At least you didn’t have to worry that much about affording food. See, you had managed to find the only other kid in your dorm building who wasn’t from the Bristol area of Gotham. As such, you had both worked out a pretty good deal where you’d pool money for groceries. It was cheaper than shopping separately and buying two of everything and end up having half of it go mouldy before even reaching the end. So you pooled money and bought the larger versions of things to last you both the week. It was convenient and really saved the two of you money.

In the beginning of the agreement, you had a shared grocery list in a google doc the two of you shared (they had a paper one but some other guy was putting stuff on there without even offering to pay you back for it with his allowance from his, frankly, fucking loaded parents. Stingy bastard). When you ran out of something or needed it, you’d add it to the list. Whoever went shopping next would then delete the list as items were bought. Cash was given in passing and responsibility alternated every other week as long as no one had any exams they were busy studying for or large projects that demanded large amounts of time and attention.

But a few months in, something changed. There wasn’t a reason for it, it just seemed to happen naturally. You were cooking dinner, making just a simple pasta bake you could shove in the oven while you folded the washing that had been sitting on your bed for the past three days. Without even realising, you had pulled out two bowls and only when the serving spoon was hovering over the second bowl, already dumping pasta in, did you realise what you had done. Why two bowls? Was it homesickness? Did you subconsciously make a second bowl for your mum too? Glancing over your shoulder, Jason was sitting with his headphones in, cross legged on the sofa and typing away at his laptop. Might as well.

Jason was startled slightly from the depths of his music by the hand placing a full bowl on the coffee table in front of him, a fork sticking out of the top of it. Was it that late already? Oh. It was 7.30pm. The last time he looked at the clock, it was only 3pm, was he really focused for that long? Well damn.

You sank into the sofa next to him, focusing entirely on your meal. You barely heard the muttered “thanks” from the man next to you as you both sat quietly, listening to your dorm mates going about their evenings. Charlotte was late for work but couldn’t find her uniform, Keith had a paper due by midnight, Ollie was trying their damndest to make toast but still couldn’t figure out the toaster.

“Wait guys, why isn’t it working?” Their distress was clear as the sound of the lever frantically being pushed down over and over scratched through the kitchen. A glance over the back of the sofa showed that it wasn’t even plugged into the wall. Rich kids. You and Jason shared exasperated looks across the sofa before resuming to mind your own business.

From then on, it was a sort of routine. Whenever one of you cooked dinner, if the other was in the vicinity, you would make an extra portion for each other. It was a wordless agreement with no clear reason for beginning. But it was comfortable.

But then it evolved even further. One day, Jason hadn’t come out of his room since he got back from his 9am lecture and it was now nearing 8 in the evening. Honestly, he had barely left his room outside of lectures for at least two weeks now. He definitely wasn’t eating much, you barely needed anything from the weekly grocery run. Not nearly as much as usual.

Since you had more than enough for two portions, you knocked on his door to see if he wanted any food. A non committal grunt was all you got from the other side so, taking that as an invitation, you pushed the door open to find him curled up facing the wall. And then you noticed things.

The lights were off, the curtains pulled shut, clothes covering the floor, the desk a mess of pens and books, his laptop was sitting on his desk chair, a couple empty water bottles and wrappers were scattered across the floor. Jason didn’t seem that much better, the only visible part of him being his head, the rest of his body completely wrapped up in his heavy duvet. It was incredibly clear that Jason wasn’t doing well at the minute. Depression? Burnout? Whatever he was going through at the minute, you wanted to help.

“I was gonna cook but you wanna order take out instead? We could get a chinese?” you offered, leaning against the door.

“Usual order.” It was mumbled, hard to hear. But you caught it and pulled your phone out with a nod.

“Yeah, I got you. Wanna shower while we wait for it?” You didn’t know what he was going through but you knew for certain that when you feel bad? A shower. Fixes like 80% of your problems or at least pushes you in the right direction of feeling better. He grunted and rolled over onto his back, letting you see his face properly for the first time in ages. Definitely not sleeping properly. A heavy sigh (or was that a choked sob?) was released before he pushed up, moving slowly and pausing momentarily stopping to accommodate being upright for the first time in what was likely hours. “Oh, before I forget, I need to wash my work uniform but I don’t have enough for a full load, can I put some of yours in with it?” Your uniform was clean and ironed but Jason didn’t need to know that.

“Uh. Yeah. Just.. everything on the floor I guess.” He made gestures behind him as he rummaged through his drawers for clean clothes. You nodded and moved back to your room to grab a basket to pick up the clothes with.

As soon as the shower turned on, you were as quick as you could be to pick up the clothes, leaving them in the hall for a moment. Then it was the stray bits of rubbish, putting them in the bin before changing the bin liner and putting the full bag of rubbish in the hall next to the washing. Might as well kill two birds with one stone and take the bins out when you went to the bottom floor for the washing machine. You didn’t really want to move much around his desk in case that’s just what it normally looks like and how he likes it but you at least put his dead laptop on charge and made his bed. All in all, you had tidied his room in record speed.

When you came back up to Jason’s room from downstairs, hot chinese food replacing the bin bag and washing basket, he was sitting back on his bed with his phone in his hand. His attention focused entirely on you when you walked in. A beat.

“You cleaned my room.” His voice was neutral, not devoid of emotion. It carried a tinge of surprised gratitude, almost disbelieving if you read further into it. “You didn’t have to, I would’ve eventually.”

“Nah, it wasn’t a big deal, I was going downstairs for the washing anyway, might as well take your rubbish out for you since, as you may not have realised, you are the one who’s paid for dinner tonight.” A cheeky grin spread on your face as you plonked on the end of his bed, spreading the containers out between the two of you and passing along the cheap plastic forks that came with the food.

“Fair enough.”

Jason supposes that was when he fell for the first time. I mean, he thought you were pretty, sure but his relationship with you was superficial and mutually beneficial. Your grocery arrangement saved him money in the long run and cooking for each other from time to time was just a way of acknowledging the ways you guys helped each other out. Camaraderie of sorts. But then you went out of your way, making it seem so effortless in the way you knew every little thing he needed without a single word from him.

He knew your uniform was clean, he saw you ironing it after coming back from his lecture one afternoon. And yet you tried to make sure he wouldn’t feel bad about you essentially doing his washing for him, disguising it as something more convenient for you rather than an askless favour for him, all so he wouldn’t feel bad about it. He certainly hadn’t expected you to clean up the rest of his room either. And leaving his desk alone? The best part of it all, honestly. Walking out and seeing the floor clear, he was so worried his desk would be tidied away too, his papers and files all thrown out of and yet not a single pen had been so much as nudged. His laptop was even on charge, something he continuously forgot to do every time he tried to use it. You were a blessing in disguise, he swears.

It started a small tradition of sorts. If one of you was struggling, the other would come and do small things to help like spell checking homework, cleaning bedrooms. folding clothes, the sort.

But then started the casual closeness.

You two no longer kept to yourselves, there were invitations to the library together, going for coffee after classes, grocery shopping together rather than separate. It wasn't a sudden change, just like everything else, it was something sparked from a single event that came to be a regular part of your routine.

As you made your way from your classroom, you collided with a solid mass. Oh, it’s Jason! He seemed to be coming from his class just like you. By now, you had a vague idea of his schedule and could guess that he had nothing until his lecture in two hours’ time.

“Hey, Jay,” that was something that came with the quiet comfort too, friendly nicknames, “I was on my way to get some coffee, did you want to join me?” He pondered the offer for a moment, nodding and pivoting to follow alongside you.

“Yeah, I could go for a drink. Might get something to eat too, did you have breakfast?” You shook your head, you had barely woken up on the third round of your alarm, there was definitely no time for anything more substantial than the cup of water sat on your bedside table from last night. “I get the food, you get the drinks?”

“Not if you’re ordering that abominable custom order you got last time.”

“Fine, I’ll get drinks, you get the food? That seem more fair?” Much more fair, what Jason ordered barely passed as coffee after the extra milk, hazelnut syrup and caramel drizzle he got. Even if he always got at least two extra shots of espresso, the drink barely tasted like coffee.

“Definitely. Whatcha want? Something light or actual lunch?” Another moment of thought.

“My brother wants me to take him out when he finishes school today so I’ll just get something light. He’s definitely going to want to go out for food. He’s going through a growth spurt and, as such, seems to be ravenous these days.” That was also a new development since the event with his room a few weeks ago; he’s started opening up more about his personal life.

“Oh, how old is he?”

“Thirteen and an absolute menace because of it. Not only is he eating our father out of house and home, his attitude has gotten even worse which is saying something. He literally tried to stab his older brother as soon as he moved in with us.” The way he said it so flippantly

made you do a double take.

“Dude, no offense, what the actual fuck. I mean, yeah, I’ve kind of figured out your family is a bit odd but he tried to STAB someone? Insane.” Jason just shrugged and held the cafe door open for you.

“Eh, family.”

Following the increase in closeness, you eventually transitioned into hanging out in each other’s rooms regularly. Accompanying each new development in your friendship with Jason, you’ve come to learn major things about him.

With the cooking, it was that he had awful eating habits and would often go half a day without eating anything and not even notice, other times, though, he’ll clear out half your guys’ cupboard space in just two hours. With the Room Event, it was that he often had bouts of depression that made it hard for him to do much more than drag himself to class and doom scroll on his phone when he was at the dorms. With the regular hangouts, you learned about his family and the complicated relationship he had with them. He was on rough terms with his dad, his older brother was too invasive and pushy for Jason’s tastes, he absolutely adored his grandfather. With his younger brother, he was neutral since he was abroad when he was adopted into the family. He was closest with his youngest brother, Damian, since Jason was abroad to help Damian’s mother to raise him.

So what did you learn by hanging out with him in his room? He was clingy. And a cuddler.

Any chance he got, the second the door was closed and you guys were situated with a movie playing on his laptop, he had you tucked under his arm. You were reading a book or scrolling your phone? He’s laying across your thighs. He’s got homework to do? His legs are crossed over yours, a blanket thrown over you both so your feet don’t get cold. It soon became commonplace for you to come back from work to find him curled up in your bed, sleeping in it better than you ever did. Although, you’d be lying if you didn’t start doing the same damn thing after the first few times he did it.

With the casual insertion of each other into your lives, the boundary between friendship and something more was being pushed further and further. Private affection became public affection. Interlocking arms in bed became interlocked fingers in hallways. Shortened names became terms of endearment. Kisses at the end of messages became kisses on the cheek. That was your favourite.

Ending every conversation with ‘xx’ was something you had done your entire life but with Jason, it felt like it carried more weight to it. When he kissed you on the cheek for the first time, he seemed to freeze immediately afterward, almost as though it was an reflex he hadn’t even realised he had. The same way as when you made that first meal for him. Something you both hadn’t even realised you were doing until it was done. Something that was so natural to the two of you, instinctual even. You didn’t acknowledge it past returning the favour with a kiss to his forehead, pushing back the white strands and standing on your toes to reach properly. Although he caught on and leant down enough for you to meet halfway.

It was a wordless transition; you two began dating. Sure, you didn’t have a concrete date for it since it wasn’t something put into words but Jason saved the date of the first kisses shared in his phone, even if they weren’t what Dick would call ‘proper kisses’. Not that he was in much of a position to comment on other people’s relationships.

Coffee runs and lunch outings became dates rather than hangouts, you stopped turning over in bed when the other was changing, hands wandered beneath clothes when cuddling, and, arguably the best part was the kisses.

By the gods was Jason a good kisser. He was sweet with it, always holding the back of your neck and/or waist, migrating from your lips to your cheeks, to your jaw, just absolutely peppering every part of your face with heart warming affection. He’d pout if you didn’t kiss him when greeting him, and would always insist on hugging you as tight as possible when one of you was leaving. Even with his sweetness, he was not above slapping your ass whenever you got up from bed. Fine by you since, at every opportunity, you were grabbing his pecs and biceps, giving them a good squeeze.

To say Jason was in absolute bliss would be an understatement. He had literally the girl of his dreams. Not only was she drop dead gorgeous, kind beyond belief, she also let him exist without any worry. He never had to second guess his words, never worry about being too clingy, and he certainly never had to worry about being too broken since she held every piece of him with so much care in her hands.

At the end of your year at university, you had to reevaluate your accommodation. You could either apply to stay another year or just look for an apartment close by. Staying in the dorms would be fine except, the university preferred first years so it was only a slim chance you’d even manage to get a room. Although you didn’t have to think over it for very long.

“Hey, which one do you prefer? I like the kitchen for this one more but this one’s got a nicer bathroom and a balcony. I’ve been through pretty much every single other apartment building in the area and chose these two so now the final choice is yours.” Jason was an absolute angel at times.

“Oh my god, I love you, have I told you that yet? I reckon the balcony one. The kitchen isn’t that different, the other one just has an island. However… balcony.” Your verbal thought process went entirely ignored by Jason who sat utterly shell shocked.

“No,” He said, decisiveness embedded in his tone.

“No? Alright, I guess if you’re that set on the kitchen island.” You shrugged, missing the point of his word entirely.

“No, uh, I mean you haven’t, uh, you haven’t said that before.” Now he was feeling a bit awkward, leaning back on the bed. “I love you too, though. Just… so you know.”

“Well that’s good. I love you more though,” you replied, giving him a cheeky grin. A pillow was swung at your face, knocking you back from the force.

“Absolutely not, I definitely love you more.”

“Alright, whatever you say, pretty boy. Not true but I’ll let it slide since I want the balcony.” If Jason’s face went bright pink at the nickname, that was between him and the wall.

Moving in together and adjusting to your new schedules together felt as natural as breathing. It was like nothing changed except now, you always shared a bed and cooked meals for each other. Any issues revolving around chores and other small grievances you had for each other’s habits were rational and calm discussions.

The most heated argument you had ever had was a complete turning point in your relationship. You had caught on to Jason sneaking out at night and disappearing for hours at a time. Whenever you asked about it, he would always refuse to tell you where he was going, insisting it wasn’t any of your business and you should just stay out of it.

“I swear to the gods, are you fucking cheating on me? Is that it? You’re sneaking around with some other girl, leaving me alone all night, just using me as a live-in maid?” You were in tears by this point, your cheeks soaked and hot with fury, hands trembling even as you swung them around while making wild hand gestures to emphasise to Jason just how furious and hurt you were with him.

“What?” Jason, up to that point, was getting just as agitated, trying to stay calm even as green creeped at the edge of his vision (that was something he never wanted to happen with you). He just wanted to keep you safe out of it, you, oh so sweet and gentle, had no business dealing with the rough harsh world he slipped into in the dark of late nights spent in alleys and on roofs. But what you were saying? It broke something in him. It was a slap to the face. His face went slack with hurt. Even with how heartbroken he looked at your accusation, your disposition never faltered. Frustration pooled in your eyes, settling between the tears clouding your vision.

“Baby. No, never in a million years, you are my love, my life. I would never do that to you.” He held your face so sweet, the words he spoke settling into stone as nothing but the truth. You believed him but you were still so hurt. You crumbled into his arms and just let it all go. “Shh, it’s okay, I’ve got you sweetheart.”

Calming down from the rush of the argument, Jason sat with you and spilled everything. It was hard and even more emotional than the fight you just had but it was comforting now. You held each other and cried and shared pain that weighed unbearably heavy. By the morning, you were both exhausted from the talking and the emotion and the crying. Grateful it was the weekend, Jason took you to bed to lie in bed, curtains pulled to show the rain pittering against the glass, a comforting rumble of distant thunder lulling the two of you into a quiet comfort. You traced shapes on his arm as he did the same to your thigh.

Things changed from there but only for the better.

As it turned out, Jason’s family had no idea he was even attending university. The contact they had with him was always on his terms. If he wanted to see them, he went to them. They didn’t even know where he lived. And they wouldn’t until he told them. It wasn’t even like they could track him since only your name was on the lease. It was something he had asked of you, knowing that just because they hadn't found anything about his address yet, it didn’t mean they weren’t still looking. The only exceptions were Alfred and Damian. Alfred was told because Alfred gets told everything, he can keep a secret. Damian was told because Jason understood needing space from the Bat family sometimes and he wanted to provide Damian a safe place where he could go for that space.

Damian and Jason were arguably the closest of the siblings. Jason had practically raised Damian afterall. Damian held a fondness for Jason because of this. He was a role model and someone he seeked the approval of in addition to his father and mother. More than that, however, Jason was someone he felt he could be the child he is around and not be judged for it. Afterall, he was in no place to judge when his favourite snack at 22 years old was animal crackers. At the end of the day, Damian had a key to Jason’s apartment and was allowed to swing by whenever he pleased. The only rules were to stay out of the bedroom and knock before entering the place. Damian was unsure why these rules were in place but he would respect them nonetheless.

And that was how you met Damian for the first time.

You were out of the lecture late, the lecturer running overtime a bit and your phone dying on the walk home. Unfortunate since you had barely managed to see that you had a text from Jay before the screen shut off. You brushed it off as him likely saying he would be home late. You’d find out when you got home anyway so it wasn’t a big deal.

However, you were a bit shocked to come home to find a young teenager standing on a chair in your kitchen and raiding through your cupboards.

“Uhm. Can I help you?” you asked, a bit skeptical. He was unlikely to be a threat to your safety, given the fuzzy socks and Jason’s stolen Wonder Woman hoodie.

“I should be asking you that. What business do you have in this apartment? Are you a nosy neighbour? You should leave at once.” He was demanding and accusatory.

“I will not, thank you very much. Not for as long as I’m paying rent since, y’know, this is my home.” You crossed your arms, taking an equally defiant stance. You weren’t sure if it was your tone or your words that surprised him more.

“You live here? With Todd?” You nodded.

“Uh, yeah, I have done for like what? Four months?”

“That is surprising. Todd has not mentioned a roommate. I was not even aware this was a two bedroom apartment.”

“That’s probably because it’s not. We share a bed since, y’know, dating and all.” His eyebrows shot up as he stepped off the chair finally.

“Todd has not mentioned a domestic partner. How long has this been a thing?” He was no longer accusatory and now genuinely curious.

“You wanna sit with tea or something and hear the whole story?” you offered, gesturing towards the sofa in the living room. The teen responded with a solemn nod, unnecessarily serious for the conversation at hand.

It wasn’t until after you finished recounting your entire relationship with Jason up to the present moment that you introduced yourselves.

“Damian Al-Ghul Wayne.” He stuck his hand out, an offer you took gladly.

“Oh! Jay’s talked about you a lot, this entire situation is making a lot more sense now. It’s good to finally meet you though. He mentioned like a week ago that you had some big test week? Is that over? How did it go?” The two of you spent the next two hours engaged in conversation, just overall getting to know each other, sharing stories of Jason and enjoying tea and snacks. You were enjoying your conversation so much you had completely neglected to charge your phone.

Jason wasn’t sure what he was expecting when he got home. Especially since you hadn’t responded to a single one of the fifty some texts he had left you from the time your lecture finished until ten minutes ago when he finished his own. You had never met Damian and Damian didn’t even know you existed, as far as he was aware so he could only hope that either you weren’t home and were out with friends or Damian had left before you arrived. Though he definitely didn’t anticipate finding the two of you so engrossed in conversation that neither of you acknowledged him past quick greetings.

“Welcome home, Jaylove.”

“Greetings Todd.”

And then you were both straight back to looking at pictures of Titus on Damian’s phone. Sighing a breath of relief that his favourite people were getting along fine, he headed to the bedroom to change into pyjamas so he could crash on the sofa and sprawl over you. Within five minutes, he was lying, head on your thighs, face buried in your stomach, an arm tucked behind your back.

“You were not exaggerating when you said that he was rather clingy in his physical affections with you.” Damian’s tone, despite the nature of the words being judgmental, was light and teasing.

“Shut up, Brat, you are exactly the same. You get it from me.” Jason was entirely muffled by your stomach.

“We are not even related by blood, how is it possibly a trait inherited from you.” He wasn’t even denying the allegations which sparked an idea in your mind.

“I raised you for like five years, dipshit, you’re gonna pick up something from me and since all your killing intent comes straight from your mother, my gift unto thee is the craving for physical touch.” As the two bickered back and forth, you moved quick and calculating as you wrapped your arm around Damian’s shoulder, trapping him in a one sided hug that left him leaning against your side. Both you and Jason had expected him to pull away, hissing like a cat or something. Against both of your expectations, he curled into your side instantly, not even missing a beat.

And thus, Damian was your second best cuddle buddy. Even when Jason wasn’t home and wouldn’t be for a few days, Damian would find time to stop by or even stay the night on weekends just to spend time and fulfill his need for physical affection that he seemed unable to get at the manor due to his ‘image that must be upheld as the blood son’. Sure, Dick would give hugs, but those weren’t cuddles and he was not about to have to swallow his pride to ask for them when he could simply come to you and get them without any need for more than a “hello” uttered.

Both you and Jason were incredibly endeared to see Damian acting in such a way. Come your first year anniversary, Damian was just as enthusiastic as Jason, if not more, about having you in their lives. Although something he would not admit to a single living soul besides Titus, you had quickly become almost his favourite person, never quite able to top Jason simply because of how deep their bond ran.

With the passing of the second year came Jason’s realisation he wanted you in his life for as long as you would have him. He wasn’t going to propose, not until the two of you had finished university at the end of next year, but he was sure he wanted to introduce you to more of his family. However, he wasn’t going to just tell them he had found who was quite possibly the love of his life, his soulmate. No, they would have to prove their titles as the world’s greatest detectives. As such, he had conspired with Damian and plotted for the two of them, in addition to Alfred, to make comments in the presence of Bruce, Dick, and Tim to how long it took them to figure out about you.

“Todd, when can I come over next? I wish to see the beloved.” Okay a bit odd, Bruce thought, but perhaps Jason has taken in a stray that Damian is fond of?

“Master Jason, I have prepared another batch of the requested brownies. Please be sure to share.” Dick thought Jason lived alone, who would he share with? Unless he meant Damian whenever he visits.

Tim didn’t get a comment, he was given ample chance to get a look at Jason’s phone lock screen, a photo of a woman’s hands making a finger heart. Separately, the comments weren’t enough to tip them off that there was someone in Jason’s life but when Damian got in trouble at school and Alfred couldn’t pick him up, they were expecting Jason to be the one to pick him up. Tim did not expect to look out his class window to see Damian walking side by side with some random woman he had never seen. The teen looked entirely at ease talking with her, indicating a familiarity that was stronger than whatever connection Damian had with the rest of his family.

Then came the digging. Tim confronted Dick and Bruce in the cave one evening, asking if they’d heard or seen anything odd.

“Am I really losing that much sleep or has Jason got a girlfriend?” It had been bugging him all day. “I think he does and Damian knows. I mean I hope so otherwise some random woman picked him up from school today.” Dick and Bruce looked over, surprised at the question with it written all over their faces.

“I mean, Damian did say something weird at the table the other morning. He was asking Jason to see ‘the beloved’. I assumed it was an unnamed stray Jason was keeping an eye on for him. Though now that you say that, I suppose that could be the case.” Bruce was thoughtful with his answer.

“Alfred told him to share the brownies he made for him the other day so if he did have a girlfriend, I guess she lives with him? Or at least goes over to Jason’s often enough.” Slowly the three of them were connecting dots in behaviours and comments made by the other three members of the household.

They were now left with two options; investigate and snoop around Jason’s life without him knowing, or confront him and ask him directly. Out of fear of pushing him further away, Dick was the one to take on for the team and was going to ask Jason directly.

The opportunity to ask presented itself the next day when the two found themselves alone in the kitchen. Jason was leaning on the island, attention drawn to his phone. Dick had walked in, ready to just ask.

“So…” He was trying to be casual. He was not casual. “Got any news you want to share with the family?” Jason looked at him with an eyebrow raised.

“Wanna be more specific?” Dick deflated with a sigh, leaning fully on the opposite side of the island.

“God why do I have to be the one to ask? I’m just gonna be blunt, do you have a girlfriend?”

“Yeah. Two year anniversary was like a month and a half ago. Why?” Jason was calm. Dick was not.

“WAIT WHAT!? You’re telling me you’ve had a girlfriend for two years and not told anyone at all? That’s cruel, man.”

“Actually that’s a lie. I told Alfred like as soon as it happened and then Damian found out when he met her.” Jason shrugged, pocketing his phone and stretching. “Not my fault you guys literally never asked.”

“Well how am I supposed to know to ask when you do literally nothing all day. How did you two even meet?” Dick was indignant now. Jason had literally never even hinted at being romantically involved with anyone nor had he ever shown an interest in relationships.

“Not telling. I like my privacy, Dickie-bird, you get to know she exists. That’s it. Maybe I’ll think about letting you all meet her if you’re nice about it.” Jason then left Dick standing, utterly stunned.

At least he had an answer for Tim and Bruce.

—

I haven't written anything to post since like 2021. This is also the first DC fic I've ever written and it was done in a six hour stint. Please be nice to me guys </3

#jason todd #jason todd x reader #jason todd x you #red hood #batfamily #batfam #richard grayson #damian wayne #damian al ghul #jason #bruce wayne #batman #red hood x reader #university au #tim drake #alfred pennyworth

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shy-writer-999 · 9 months ago

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Summary: Zoro loves to tease you until you cry. Seeing your face glistening from tears really gets him going. What happens when he finally gives you what you want? Afab reader, ~2k words.

CW: Pure smut. Gendered language, e.g. "pretty girl", edging, toys, crying, overstimulation, P in V. Note that this is consensual & no safeword used :3

MINORS DNI. NSFW CONTENT.

Zoro held a vibrator to your clit at the lowest setting and slowly fucked you with three fingers. His brows were bent, and he was laser focused on the slick dribbling out of you.

For the past two hours, every time you were about to cum he’d turn the vibrator off and pull his fingers out. He was being cruel. You’d gotten to the brink of orgasm no less than 10 times. By the 5th you were begging him to let you cum, and, historically, he’d give in. But today, no matter how much you begged, he just wasn’t listening.

He knew what he wanted, and he was going to get it.

Hot tears made trails down your cheeks, hooking under your jaw and pooling on your collar bone. Zoro’s cock twitched at the sight. He loved to see you like this, drooling, begging for his cock, so worked up from his fingers that you started to cry in frustration. Every sob made him feel like he was on fire, every tear coaxed more precum out of his tip.

This was like a sport to him. He got off on seeing you unravel from his fingertips, fully broken down in pleasure. When your eyes got glossy, teary, and you could barely talk, he knew he was doing it right.

Zoro took the vibrator off your clit and left his fingers in you, unmoving. His hand was a mess—your arousal coated every finger and his whole palm, glistening around his wrist and dripping onto the covers.

“Zoro, please,” you pleaded for the millionth time, voice cracking. “Wanna cum, please.”

Blinking through the blurry drops of your tears and batting your eyelashes for visibility, you could see Zoro’s sickeningly sweet smile. “I know you do, sweetheart. But you gotta hang in there.”

“Zoro,” you tried to wiggle around on his fingers for friction. You needed him to move. You were going fucking crazy.

He tutted and pulled his fingers out of you, a sticky string connecting his fingertips to your puffy, red lips. You gasped at the emptiness, exasperated beyond words. You couldn’t think straight, and the tears wouldn’t stop.

“You’re doing such a good job for me, baby. Can’t you keep going?” He was frowning.

You didn’t want to disappoint him. But you were reaching your limit. More desperate tears seeped out of the corners of your eyes.

Sucking his fingers clean, Zoro then cupped your face with both hands and kissed you tenderly. The kisses were salty from your tears.

He wiped under your eyes with both thumbs, swiping away the frustration. “You poor thing. I’ll put my cock in you, ok? But you have to ask really nicely this time.”

You nodded vigorously. “Please Zoro, please fuck me. I need your cock so bad. Please.”

He sighed and frowned again. “Don’t you need it more than that?”

Tears welled in your eyes again. He was being downright ruthless. You had asked nicely. Really nicely. But it wasn’t enough.

“Zoro, fuck” you sobbed. “’M going crazy. I’ll do anything. P-please fuck me. Please.”

He brought a hand down to lazily stroke himself for a moment while he stared into your cock-crazed eyes. He loved it when you were pathetic like this, when you were shameless.

Tanned skin rippled as Zoro’s rough hand twisted over the head of his cock, grazing the sensitive spots on and under his head. Precum oozed out of his inflamed slit, every drop evidence of how badly he wanted you.

He leaned close to your face and practically growled. “When I fuck you, you have to promise not to cum unless I say so. Either that or I won’t fuck you at all.”

His threat made you feel fucking feral. You didn’t care at this point, and you would agree to anything. “Zoro, I promise. Just fuck me.”

Zoro raised an eyebrow and then positioned you exactly how he liked, in some sort of mating press. One hand held your thigh up, fingerpads digging into your plush flesh. The other was braced on the bed next to you. He lined his cock up with your entrance and took a deep breath. Your eyes were lust-filled, hungry, and almost rabid. His heart skipped a beat.

Pushing through your folds as slowly as he could, he could feel your walls starting to clamp down on his cock. You were so wet that it felt like heaven to him—slippery, velvety, and warm. When he bottomed out, he let out a lengthy groan. “Fuuucccck.”

Finally, Zoro’s hips rocked and grinded into you. Every shove of his cock felt electric. Each bundle of nerves that his tip and shaft dragged over sent waves and tingles of pleasure to your core, radiating outwards to every limb. Your toes were already curling with pleasure.

Zoro had been waiting for this moment. He made you ready enough for his cock, and now he was going to fuck you into oblivion.

His girthy, veiny cock pushed out and in, and each pass attacked your g-spot. Your back was arching, you keened his name continuously, and your eyes rolled back in your head. You had completely lost yourself, forgetting what was going on or who you were; you only knew one thing—Zoro’s cock.

Orgasm approached within minutes. He could tell from the way you started to shudder around him and the way your thighs started to tremble. He frowned again and held still.

“Baby, I said you can’t cum unless I say so.”

“Zoro, ‘m so close, please.”

“Don’t you want to be good for me?”

Once again, you started to cry. It was almost worse now that he was fully fucking you but dangling your orgasm in front of your face. Any time you tried to get it, he’d yank it out of reach. He was sadistic about it. But really, what could you expect? It was naive to think that he’d let you cum right off the bat.

“I wanna be good,” you sobbed quietly, and your fingers clawed half-moons into his biceps. Your tortured eyes met his. Zoro was looking at you like he was going to devour you. Like he’d rip out each morsel of pleasure and then leave you for good. It felt like he was using you, but you knew that he was doing it with your own interest in mind. Any time he got heartless like this, your orgasm almost made you faint.

“I-I’ll be so good, Zoro. Please. I’ll wait. I promise.”

“That’s my girl,” he groaned at your words and tears. He fucked you again, slower this time, pressing more of his weight on your thigh that he was holding up. His other hand passed up your body, travelling from your hips to your breasts.

Greedy hands massaged and squeezed. Fingertips brushed over your sensitive buds gently. Pulling and pinching them, he rolled one nipple softly and then harder until you whined and your eyes fluttered.

“Doing such a good job for me, pretty girl. Keep takin’ my cock like that and I’ll let you cum.”

You whimpered as he fucked you so deeply that his cock hit your cervix. It hurt, but the pain was overrun by the gigantic waves of pleasure elicited from your cunt any time Zoro’s head snagged over your hot gooey spot.

“Just like that,” he murmured quietly, coming as close to your face as he could. Your walls throbbed and clenched around him, squeezing out his precum and swallowing his shaft. “So fuckin’ wet for me, baby.”

“Zoro, ’m getting close,” you mewled. Everything about you intoxicated him. Whenever your tits bounced from his thrusts, whenever you scrunched your nose up from him fucking you too deep, those damp cheeks from your tears moments ago… You had been good for him. You’d let out enough needy whimpers, too. You earned it.

“Let it out. Cream on my cock, sweetheart. Show me how much you love it.”

As soon as you registered his permission, you came. You screamed his name, convulsed and spasmed under him, throwing your head back with euphoria. It felt like you orgasmed for minutes. Your juices gushed out around the base of his cock and he moaned at the sensation.

It was foolish of you to assume he would be done after that.

Of course, his hips kept grinding into yours through your orgasm. You started to squirm.

“Zoro, fuck,” you whimpered. “’s too much.”

“No, it’s not.” He cooed and purred in your ear. “I know you’ve got another for me. No matter how much you writhe, I’m still going to fuck you through it.”

More tears. It felt like he was pressing a button in you that made you wince from overstimulation and pleasure. “Z-zoro, fuck, it’s—it’s too much, Zoro.” You struggled and contorted around his cock. It felt too good, the sensation was too overwhelming, you wanted it to stop but at the same time it was addictive.

“Stay still for me.” He put all his weight on you, and you continued to writhe for a second before you did what he said. Your eyes were fucked-out and hazy, barely sentient of what was happening other than pleasure. His hips rolled with each squelching sound that echoed in the room. Slowly, your cunt started to pulse again.

“Does it feel good now, princess? You like it when I stuff you full of my cock?” Zoro was starting to get riled up. Each hump and thrust goaded feverish desire.

“You’re milking my cock so well, baby. Pussy feels so good.” Every nasty word he rasped in your ear burned.

As Zoro’s peak built, yours did too. He wanted to time it so you came at the same time—though he could be a sadist, he was also a romantic. To climax together was something sweet that he put the utmost effort into.

He praised and encouraged you as much as he could muster. He choked out a word between each grunt. “Doing—so—good—for—me— fuck.”

Zoro reached a hand to rub his fingers in circles over your clit. The noises you produced were guttural and primal—it’s like pleasure was exploding in you. He pressed down with his thumb, hard, and you gasped his name.

“Let it out, sweetheart. Cum on my cock. Wanna feel it.”

Your second orgasm was pure ecstasy. Zoro wrenched it from your core, ripped it out of you like the animal he was. When you started to shake, his hips jerked into you, haphazard and frenzied.

“F-fuck, fuck, your pussy is—so good, fuck, ‘m cumming, fuuuccckkkk.” He came, cocked twitching, seeing stars. You could feel him filling you up, hot and sticky.

Completely losing touch with the world, your orgasm literally crushed your sense of reality. You blacked out for a couple seconds, and by the time you were cognizant again, Zoro’s cum was leaking out of your cunt. He was panting, trying to catch his breath. Sweat matted his hair down around his temples, his cheeks were ruddy, his hair was ruffled up and he was a mess. “Fucking hell, babe.”

Zoro may have been the one feigning control during your sessions of arduous orgasm denial, crying, and fucking, but in reality, you pulled the strings. He wouldn’t have the experience he wanted, and you wouldn’t have the experience he wanted for you, if you didn’t play along too. Zoro knew this, and he was grateful that you’d humor him, grateful that you cherished his intimacy enough to entertain hours of edging, crying, and nasty fucking. Sharing an experience like this and simultaneously respecting the other’s vulnerability was something precious to him.

Aftercare for him was a different sport entirely. And like everything he did, Zoro was determined to become the best. He sprinkled your face with ticklish kisses, replacing the tears that were there minutes ago with love.

that’s all for this one!! thank u sm for reading :D here’s my masterlist and my October posting schedule.

also for giggles - trick or treat? (both tumblr links heh)

#z's kinktober #roronoa zoro smut #zoro smut #roronoa zoro x reader #roronoa zoro x you #roronoa zoro x y/n #zoro x reader #zoro x you #zoro x y/n #op smut #one piece smut #op zoro smut #one piece zoro smut #one piece x reader

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madamechrissy · 5 months ago

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Baby You're No Good

Pairings - Cult leader/clan Leader Geto x F! reader

Summary - You have been promised to marry the psychotic, human hating leader of the Geto Clan, Suguru. Your heart sinks at the wedding when you realize you're likely to be ended once you've fulfilled your duty, giving him an heir. He detests you on sight, as do you, but something happens the first time you lay together, Suguru swears you're some witch, because he can't get enough of you. He becomes consumed with fucking you, with the excuse of 'having an heir' but you begin to wonder just where the lines are blurring. Would you survive this- and will Suguru survive being with you?

CW- Arranged marriage trope, ENEMIES TO LOVERS, psychotic Geto lol- lots of hate sex, Suguru calling you a stupid monkey, angsty in places, FULL of smut. Reader is a virgin bc she's sheltered due to been promised to him. Reader is FEISTY asf and mean right back. Explicit sex and Geto being whipped/insane/obsessed and psycho. This part- OH BOY- fingering, Suguru being a psychotic munch so oral (f recieving) rough sex, dirty talk, multiple positions, choking and smacking (in and out of the bedroom) cockwarming, mating press, creampie, TOXIC asf, hate sex, angst. WC this part- 8k

Will be three parts I THOUGHT now looking like four lmao <3 Plz share/comment/ like if you enjoy!- This won the poll as the thank you for 7k followers, tysmmm!

<<<Part One - Playlist - Masterlist - Part Three (soon) Based on Clan Leader Geto

Part Two

“Now.”

Suguru’s quiet command was just that, a command, one for you to obey as his ‘wife’. But you damn sure weren’t going to act like you wanted to fuck this deranged psycho any more than you already did.

“Get it over with then, the sooner I get pregnant the better.”

“Exactly, we won’t have to do this any longer. Useless little-”

You smack him, earning a psychotic glare, violet eyes glittering dangerously as your hand stings, and red lifts on his perfect face. “Call me a monkey one more time.”

He smirks, leaning close now, yanking you to him, turning you and unzipping your dress, letting it fall, so you don’t see just how perfect he thinks you are. His hands slip around your front, one sliding up to squish a breast, thumb brushing a nipple, making you cry out before you can stop yourself, he chuckles at your response, his other finding your pussy now, dripping.

“Already so wet, hmm? Admit it, you love getting fucked by me, you know how above you I am, pathetic… human. Hmm?” You turn in surprise, as you’re soaking his fingers now, your lips parted, tantalizing, eyes rolling back as he finds your engorged little clit, swirling his fingers on it.

“Fuck… you… mnh…” Is all you manage, as he feels your hair fall back against his chest, and his cock is already throbbing, even after jerking it this morning and last night, he has to be inside you again.

“Soaking me from a little touch? So fucking pathetic.” He whispers, you bite down on your lip, shoving at his hands then, turning.

“Just put it in, I can take it now.” You have him lifting you like you’re nothing, and for this brief moment when he holds you, and your lips are too close, he pictures it, letting go with someone so measly and useless, someone so annoying and absolutely insolent.

But he can never think that way.

He tosses you on the bed, spreading your thighs, spitting right on your pussy then, you gasp at it, lewd and wanton, as he watches the bubbly clear liquid pool between lips still puffy from getting fucked last night. He moans at the sight, at loud, as he leans down, inhaling you, and you shove at him with your feet, earning another death glare.

“What are you doing, just get it done. Don’t… whatever that is!” He aches to taste you, fuck you’re annoying him, the scent driving him insane. He can smell how badly you want him, as he gathers his spit and shoves it in your little hole, and you whine out, sore and throbbing.

“Stop thinking you can tell me what to do, you’re nothing but a tool for me, a pretty little tool.”

“Pretty huh?” You cry out as he scissors his fingers now, done with your remarks, his other hand slamming on your mouth, muffling your protests.

“Will you shut up, fuck I’ll get there.” Suguru took his time with things, he wants to devour every pretty inch of your body, but you’re correct, it is in fact stupid to do so, to waste the talents of his tongue and mouth on your pretty, but useless human body. “Undress me.”

You take a shaky breath, sitting up now, with no help of his, undoing the buttons of these black robes he’s wearing, pretentious and royal, stupid just like him. You’re filled with so much hate your chest heaves, as you realize your body wants this, and you hate that it does. You quickly drop his robes and once again, gulping as you remember the initial pain last night.

Suguru watches you hesitate, raising a dark brow now, acting as if his tip leaking precum is just so normal for this situation. “Go on, I’ll allow it.” He says then, and your eyes narrow.

“Allow what?” Your voice is full of laughter, he wonders if you have any sense of self preservation, serving to only infuriate him further.

“You to serve me, you may if you beg pretty enough.” He tilts your chin up then, and you burst into laughter, only making him scowl down at you.

“I’ll not serve you anymore than I already have to. Get one of your little cult girls to do that.”

“You insolent-”

“Come on now, what position is best for baby making?” He turns you around then, until you’re on your knees, you look back wildly at him, at his flexing muscles, his long dark hair falling over a shoulder as he grabs your hips.

“Arch your back, monkey.” Your jaw sets, and he realizes very quickly you won’t, sighing and rolling violet eyes, pressing between your shoulder blades, yanking on your hip and almost cumming at how pretty your ass looks arched. “Fuck…”

“This is the best po-mnh!” He’s pressing his tip against you, up your slit now, which pools out arousal, when he smacks you firm on one ass cheek. “Don’t fucking do that psycho!”

“You’ve irritated me.”

Your ass looks perfect with his handprints.

“Now, arch more, hmm?”

He just wants a good look at you, how small your waist looks like this, how your ass is shaped so perfectly, hips fitting in his big hands that are taking you over, and he presses deeper, sucking in his moans. His thumbs press into the dimples on your lower back, cursing silently at how perfect you feel, gripping just his tip he could cum, his head falling forward as he leans over you.

His feet planted on the floor, he presses further, making you cry out, as he stretches you, fills you, and damn if it doesn’t feel good. You bite it back again, inhaling sharply as he leans over you, his hair now falling against your bare shoulders, his breath hot in your neck as he shoves his cock so deep. His hand comes to cup your chin, turning it to make you look up at him.

God you’re pretty.

“Got you to shut up- hah.” He huffs, and you open your mouth to protest when he slams your cervix, squeezing your throat just so, until you’re fuzzy, and your cunt is slick, sucking him in hungry.

“F-fuck you… hate it…” You whisper, he laughs then, deep and dark in your ear, squeezing your throat tighter with long fingers, beginning to fuck into you, lewd noises filling your bed chamber as he moves.

“Could fucking kill you right now, tiny, pathetic little neck. Could snap it right now, huh?” He squeezes further, and you should be terrified, surely, but instead you’re convulsing around his cock, making you both sigh in pleasure, as each of you try to hide your body's reactions, and fail the more he pumps.

“Kill me… then… do it…” You whisper, and he squeezes more now, your windpipe pressed between his strong hand, as he presses fully in, bottoming out all his inches in your pussy, and you scream silently, eyes rolling back in your skull as you feel fuzzy, like you’re floating.

“I could do it, oh I could do it.” He loves it then, feeling as you’re close, he can tell with how your body jerks and moves, then he’s shoving deep and rolling his hips, watching as you shatter for him. “Can’t fucking help it, feel too good?”

You shake your head even as he’s squeezing your neck, as you’re cumming all over his cock, when he lets go, and you take a breath, burying your face, fingers gripping the silk red and black blankets. You don’t see Geto losing it, his hands shaking, cock pulsing as your walls flutter, and he feels it, he’s close already, you’re too tight, you’re too much.

Annoying.

“Don’t wanna show me how much you like it, do you?” You shake your head, gasping for a breath then.

“Hate it, hate you, hate your dick- ah!” He’s on you then, prone position, heavy weight over your much smaller body, taking you over. You’re whimpering helplessly when he finds your clit again, and shoves his cock deep. “S-stop touching it, shit!”

“You like it, huh?” You bite your lip, shaking your head as he fucks you far too intimately, one elbow holding himself up, hand right back on your throat, as he laps up sweat that’s dripping down the curve of your neck. “You love it, me inside you, don’t you monkey?”

“Fuck you.” You manage to breathe out, giving him no satisfaction as you bury your face again, hands gripping the blankets so hard they’re crumpling, screaming as he makes you cum again, as he makes you hate him more.

Suguru loses himself in you, burying his face in your neck, as he had last night, groaning softly as he feels your orgasm surround him, milk him, pulling his fingers back finally giving your overstimulated clit a reprieve. He puts his fingers to his lips then, and when he tastes you!?

Suguru pauses his thrusts, the sweetness of you unlike anything he’s ever tasted, making his cock twitch inside you, and suddenly it’s too intimate, it’s too much, having him inside you, on you, teeth sinking into your neck. It feels far too perfect, and you despise this monster even more for it, for making you weak against him, under him like this.

“God…” He murmurs, confusing you when he presses his lips against your ear, breath tickling it again, making you shiver. “Ready for me to fill you up?”

“Get it d-done.” You squeak out, he yanks you further down on his cock, pumping inside you then, and you swear this psycho cult leader whimpers, it’s almost disorienting hearing it, you barely manage to focus, as your vision swims. When his sexy - fuck it’s not sexy - moan fills your ears, and he’s shoving his thick cock so deep, you can’t stop your body’s reaction.

You’re cumming again, only edging him on further, laughing at you, even as he’s crying out, pulling your hair by the nape of your neck, pumping so deep. “F-fuck… gonna put so much in you, fill you till your stupid little ass can’t walk.”

“Fuck you- ngh!” Your orgasm is just extended as his cum fills you so deep inside, feeling him pulse and spurt so much cum it’s stupid.

“Bratty, annoying, insolent… fuck…” perfect, you feel perfect.

Suguru supposes if he had to be paired with a monkey, you were by far the best, he’d never felt anything like you before, even how you smell, the softness of your skin, everything just draws him in. He tries to shake himself out of the stupor, feeling your aftershocks milking every last drop from him, impulse making him press a kiss on your upper back.

“Don’t do that.” You whisper now, and he pauses himself, why is he kissing your skin, why is he lingering. This isn’t what this is for, it’s for power, it’s for an heir to get the Geto clan off his fucking back.

After that you won’t be needed to breed would you?

Suguru contemplates that for a moment, still laying on you, hoping you don’t get pregnant any time soon, which confuses him more than anything, as you’re gasping for a breath under him, wriggling just so. “You’re heavy, get off me.”

“You’re such a mean little bitch, you know that?” He hops off you then, turning you to your back and shoving you down by your collar bones, your breaths come faster as he looms over you, thin sheen of sweat coating his perfect body.

“A bitch? You expect me to be happy, to worship you? I never will.” You whisper, his fingers itch to touch you more, when he finally pulls back, and sees it, the milky white cum starting to ooze from your little hole. The sight of it ignites something feral in him, as he takes his fingers and scoops it up, your mouth drops open just a bit.

“You’re not even keeping the cum inside you, hmm? Guess I’ll have to help you keep it in.” He shoves his two thick, long fingers in your cunt then, watching as your hole swallows it, and you’re whimpering, so sexy his cock, sticky from you still, twitches again.

“N-not necessary, is this?” You whisper, clearly naive and innocent, it’s him defiling you really, but how can he help himself, when he needs more of you.

“It is very necessary, slutty little cunt wasting it all.”

“Slutty, bet your cult girls are like a - ah!” Suguru is curling his fingers in you again as you speak, making you stutter, when his thumb hits your clit again. “That… part… why do you…”

“Cumming, it’ll help it take.” You frown at him, brows drawing together. “It’s not as if I want you to have pleasure, or work at it, but it’s true.”

“We’re already done now though, can you- f-fuck I…” You’re gushing down his hands, the mix of his own cum and yours making him die to taste it.

“Tsk, so messy, aren’t you?” He slips his fingers out now, putting them inside your mouth, only for you to enjoy this asshole’s taste before you think better and bite the shit out of his fingers, making him scowl as he pulls them back. “Not just weak and useless, you’re stupid. Think I won’t kill you before you have a baby?”

“Worth it to bite your stupid fingers and slap your stupid face.” You sit up as he finally stands, blushing for a moment as you see the wet spot you’ve caused, as you see his cum trailing down his tip. You think wildly about licking it before you stand and turn away, clearing your throat and bending down to get your robes.

“You’re lucky my family needs you around, or I’d send a curse in and kill you in your fucking sleep.” You roll your eyes, adjusting your robes now as you turn, seeing him still shirtless, as he adjusts his own robes.

“Anything else you require of me, husband or Lord Geto- whatever the hell I’m supposed to call you.” He chuckles then, cupping your face, but not sweetly, no he’s squeezing it, violet eyes so dilated they look black, the intensity making your heart falter for a moment.

“Your mouth is just begging to be shut. Maybe if I fuck your throat good enough you’ll lose your voice?” He taunts, and your glare just makes him hard all over again, along with the thought of fucking this insolent mouth of yours. “Nothing to say about that? Get you wet?’

Yes.

“You wish.” He smirks his full lips, trailing his fingers down your waist now.

“You’ll be dripping me all day, won’t you?”

“I sure hope not, it’s uncomfortable and disgusting.”

“You’re disgusting.”

“You are!” You shove at him now, breaths faster and faster, he loses his smirk, his humor, gripping your wrist bruisingly.

“You’ll be ready for dinner tonight, as well as my meeting tomorrow, you’ll be everywhere I am publicly.”

“Oh joy, can’t wait.” He scoffs, rolling his eyes as he opens the door, summoning the little bull curse again, who runs up to you now. Suguru’s eyes narrow, as he turns and watches the curse lick your cheek. He’s known the curse to be odd, but the way you giggle, how your face lights up?

He’s seen you scowl, seen tears in your eyes, seen your jaw set and your eyes full of fire, but for the moment you’re just happy, as the curse is nudging at your hand, and he realizes you’re not just a pretty human. You’re fucking beautiful, the kind of girl who would have taken the Suguru of Jujutsu high days by his heart, that would have had him desperate for you.

He’s not that man, but some part of him annoyingly persists, the part that misses Gojo, Shoko, fuck he misses Nanami, so many of his fallen classmates. The rage he holds is usually enough to keep the loneliness at bay, the fact that though he’s surrounded by people who love him, who need him, he’s truly alone. There are no friends, there is no love anymore.

You remind him of a past he aches to forget, when your smile and glittery eyes look at him, before they fall, and you remember yourself, which Suguru needs almost, he doesn’t need to crave happiness for you. A means to an end, perhaps the sex has ruined his fucking brain.

“Could I name him?” You ask, and he wants to smile at you, the smile he used to have, not the cruel psychotic smirk, but instead he just shrugs a broad shoulder.

“If you must, I never gave him one. He’ll keep you…” Safe. “From leaving, but he won’t…” Hurt you. “He’s very calm.”

“I know, I like him a lot. Hmm, I’ll think of a name for you, handsome boy.” You tease him, and then Suguru hears your tummy growl quite loudly, making you flush in embarrassment.

“I’ll have someone show you where the kitchens are.” He says, he hasn’t even contemplated that you need food, and even curse users eat. Clearly he’s been a little too… involved with that insane pussy you think is normal, to worry about you properly functioning.

“Oh thank you I guess… I haven’t eaten since I’ve been here.”

“Ah, that’s… not okay for making a baby.” A baby, the words hit hard then, you know your duty but to think of it… to think of your life being over… to think of bearing this man a baby.

Your tummy lurches even as you’re starving.

“I’ll send the girls up, they’re a little more…” What should he care of your comfort!? “They’re well adapted here, it’s their home.” You nod then, and he walks out, leaving you with this derpy looking curse, body aching from Suguru’s touches, as you sit on the bed, and the curse jumps up for more pets.

Just who was Suguru Geto, how did he get this way?

Should you even care, and would you survive long enough to know if it’s even worth it?

Soon Mimiko and Nanako are giggling, taking each of your hands, sucking on little lollipops and damn near frolicking, as they guide you through each hall of this ridiculous estate. They start asking you more and more questions, and for whatever reason it doesn’t feel malicious, like Suguru, like the others, like the Geto family.

“Dad seems to really think you’re pretty.” Nanako says, and you shake your head with a laugh.

“No way.”

“Have you seen how he stared at you? While you were dancing?” Mimiko asks, and you almost snort.

“Yeah, no, your dad… hates me. Clearly.”

“Hmm, I don’t think so.” Nanako says, then points to a kitchen with cooks actively working, the aromas making your tummy growl again. “Go ahead, get whatever you want.”

“It’s all yummy.” Mimiko says, they run over and giggle, grabbing little pieces of different sushis, as the curse licks your hand, you smile a bit at him.

“What if I named you Sashimi?” It lolls its tongue out, head tilting to the side, and you giggle. “I like it though!”

Suguru finds you sitting with his daughters, who are on either side of you, stirring something in him that should not be there. But it’s undeniable, when you smile softly at them, a smile you’d never shoot his direction. Manami comes and tries to kiss him, which he quickly tilts his head away, but not before you catch him, but your eyes avert and you show no emotion.

Do you feel anything towards him but pure hatred and fear? Has he given you any reason to? Do you feel this odd energy, or is it all in Suguru’s head?

“It wouldn’t look right.” He says. Manami is his best and most loyal assistant, but he can’t stand the thought of anyone touching him.

But you.

And would you ever?

Why does he care?

“Then later, Lord Geto?” She asks, and he eyes her for a moment, her breasts apparent in this low cut blazer.

“I think it best I don’t… divert from trying to have an heir with… my…”

“Your wife?” She finishes, laughing a bit, Suguru’s jaw tenses.

“Best to spend the energy there, get it done.”

“As you say, Lord Geto. What’s on the agenda for today?” He starts to speak, but all he can really think is how much he wants you to hit him again, how just that feels like more than he’s had since long ago.

Annoying girl.

*****

Three days later

Over the next few days, Suguru can’t get enough of your pussy, of your face when he makes you cum, of your scent, of your presence. He hates it, how much he wants you all the time, like you’re some leech that’s sunk into his brain. He constantly calls you in for more, now you’re right in his office, he’s fingering you as you sit on his lap, your legs up on the arms of his enormous leather seat.

“You’re close, aren’t you dumb little monkey?” He whispers, you shake your head, jaw clenched when he pulls his fingers out and you whine pathetically. “Oh, need something?”

“Just fuck me, god.” Your legs are shaking as he’s teasing you with his fingers again, circling your clit, his other hand gripping your breast, squishing it in his hand, cock aching to pump you full.

“Sit on my desk.” He orders, husky toned, you struggle to get up, and he laughs cruelly. “Can’t stand huh? Gotta do everything, don’t I?”

He hoists you up, spreading your thighs then, sinking back into his seat as he eyes your perfect pussy, and he’s so tired of holding back, what he’s been dying to do, as he leans over, fingers pressing into the plush of your thighs. Your eyes go wide when you feel his breath on your clit, making you jerk, this mother fucker inhales you, moaning and shutting his eyes.

“What… are you sniffing me!?” You demand, thighs threatening to close, and Suguru exhales, eyes locking on yours.

“I’m going to fuck you with my mouth.” Those words are far too attractive, as your pussy throbs in response, you try to focus, you hate this psycho, you can’t have him further fucking up your head.

“That’s not how babies are made, Suguru.”

“Orgasms help, remember?” You frown, biting your lower lip, it seems too intimate, it seems like too much, as your hands grip his desk, and your hips arch, his lashes lowering, casting shadows on his cheeks.

“I cum anyway, stop acting like you don’t know that.” You look away, hating even admitting it out loud, and he smirks, chuckling and making you tickle again, as he spreads your puffy lips, watching your pussy drool out wetness more and more.

“Try not to scream too loudly.” You snort, rolling your eyes.

“Oh you’re so full of yourself, I doubt- ah!” He swipes the flat of his tongue from your hole, and then when he tastes your honeyed arousal, it’s over for him.

Moaning, he drags you against him now, closer to his face as he swipes his tongue in, and your head falls back, mouth open in a slutty O as he lavishes you, it feels so good you’re not sure you’ve ever enjoyed something this much. Addictive with each stroke, with each breath, the way his teeth hit you, fuck how his straight nose bumps your engorged clit.

Your hands instinctively grip his silky hair, for the first time you’re touching it, glossy strands in your fingers as you try to pull him off, it’s too good, way too good, this can’t be something you do. He’s licking you up and moaning, tastebuds slid inside your fluttering walls, as you desperately cry out, whining and pulling at his hair for him to detatch his mouth.

“What are you doing!?” You manage to squeak out, and he pulls back just a bit, feeling your little pathetic hands pulling on him, as if you could stop him now, that he has your slick all over his lower face.

The sight of Suguru Geto between your thighs, licking his glossy lips, eyes dilated and drunk off your pussy is far too tempting. You feel your pussy clench around nothing, as your breaths come quicker and quicker, and Suguru exhales right on you, smirking as he watches your tiny clit twitch for him in response.

“Eating your pussy, are you so stupid you don’t know what it is?” You bite your lower lip, glaring now.

“I’ve heard of it, I just… Why do you want to? Remember, you don’t want to ‘prep a monkey’ your exact words.”

“Will you shut up and just…” He pulls you back again, and he’s devouring you, no other word for it, the insane way he licks you, drinks you up, the sounds of him inhaling and slurping obscenely in his office, and you find your hands pulling him closer.

As he feels you press your cunt further in his face, he’s done, cock throbbing in his pants and oozing precum out, making him damn near cum as he feels her clenching his tongue. He dares to look up, tilting his head that you’re still yanking on, your thighs trembling on each side of his raven haired head, as you whimper, hiccuping in pleasure, tears falling from your eyes.

“Close, aren’t you?” He whispers, tauntingly, those violet eyes glinting as you shake your head, and he laughs, just the laugh touching you he sees you’re drooling more and more from your pretty pussy. “No?”

“Don’t like it.” You whisper, he smirks and flicks his tongue one more time, ending you, your orgasm washes all over your body until you are cupping a hand on your face to stop your scream, and he moans again, drinking all your cum that’s pouring down out of you.

“Fuck…” He whispers, more to himself than anything, Suguru loves eating pussy but he never thought a pathetic human would taste like you, your heat burning him, he can hardly delatch his mouth even as you pull on him.

“What even… is that…” You weakly manage, and he slips two fingers through your slick, your hands fall weakly when he leans over now, undoing his robes to reveal his ready cock, thick and heavy, slapping his belly button and leaving sticky white residue on his robes.

“Shut it, useless little human.” You can’t find the energy to scowl, your body is still shaking, trying to recover from all the pleasure he’d brought you. You grip his biceps as he sinks into you, so wet he slips in easily, and you’re so sensitive you almost cum when he slips all the way inside.

“Shit…” Is all you manage, you want to tell him- hurry up or - fuck you- maybe - hate you- but for just a moment he’s got your brain too addled, when he starts fucking you, you’re clinging to him, whining, and you hate yourself for it.

He hates you, as he watches you for once pliant, sweet even, fuck what would it be like if you wanted this fully, if you wanted him?

He can’t think like this, no it’s your pretty face and your sweet taste, he can’t stand how bad he wants to kiss your lips as he spreads you over his desk, pumping in and out of your slick cunt over and over. Your thighs grip him, your hands gripping his arms so tightly, when your head falls back, and he’s kissing and licking your pretty throat.

“Shut you up, it is possible.” He whispers meanly in your ear, and you try to focus, as his tip drags on your spot.

“F-fuck y-you.” He smiles, he smiles, loving just how that sounds, a tiny little mewl of words.

“I am fucking you, should thank me.”

“Never.” He groans now, yanking you down, turning you so you’re bent over his desk, feet dangling like you’re nothing, the way he moves you with his strength is heady, exhilarating, not frightening like it should be.

Suguru is shoving his cock back inside, gripping your wrists behind your back. He can’t take how pretty you look, he needs to stop, it’s easier this way. “Won’t thank me for fucking you? Me, a curse user, you a-”

“Shut up and fuck me then.” You glare, turning your pretty face to him, and he does just that, slamming into you again and again.

“Fuck… stupid, pathetic little thing-mnh…” He busts deep inside you, squeezing your wrists so tightly you can’t even feel them, cum filling you to the brim. He exhales as your head rests on the cool wood, and tears fall.

Why did he have to make you enjoy him more?

Suguru turns you and releases you now, you stumble and the fucker doesn’t even catch you, instead he hovers, lips just an inch from yours, as you struggle to gain any senses. “I hate you, Lord Geto.”

Suguru, could you call him Suguru?

“I don’t even hate you, you’re so insignificant.” He whispers, tilting your chin up, imagining having you taste yourself off his mouth. “Hate is even too good for a nothing like you.”

“I have enough hate for both of us.” You whisper back, before stumbling away, righting yourself, hurriedly walking to the door when he murmurs.

“My meeting tomorrow, you’ll be there.”

You just scowl and walk away, detesting the thought of having to be in a room full of psychos that want you eradicated. “Why?”

“You’re my wife, it’s one of your duties.”

“They want me dead.” He scoffs now.

“And you think I don’t?” You stomp off, slamming the door, Suguru groans as he slumps into the chair, burying his head in his arms on the cherry wood desk, thinking of how much he wishes he did want you dead.

*****

“Are you ready for the meeting?” Manami asks, coldly, and you smile at her then, shaking your head.

“You’re so worried about me, why? I don’t want your cult daddy.”

Manami glares now, tossing back her red locks. “Cult daddy!?”

“Yeah, him, you can have him. What do I fucking care? I am sure he still comes to you plenty, and I won’t stop him.” She blinks once more, mouth open in shock.

“You haven’t… you don’t care if he does?”

“Not one bit.”

“Then why hasn’t he-”

“Let’s go, monkey.” You hear now, and he catches sight of you, in a gorgeous white gown that makes your skin glimmer, you’re far, far too beautiful. For a moment he's standing there, stupidly, thinking of just how good your pussy tasted yesterday, thinking of burying his face back against it, before he shakes it off, clearing his throat. “Did I stutter, human?”

“Yeah, yeah, let’s go then.” You huff, as Suguru’s assistants eagerly set up the stage he’s to be on, and you’re both behind this dumb fucking curtain. “You’re pretentious as fuck.”

“What did you say?” He demands, brows lowering, and you laugh then, shaking your head.

“A stage, a microphone, as if you’re something so profound, and not some angry little fucking emo bitch.” Suguru glares now, smacking you right in the face, instantly hating himself more when you blink rapidly, and he sees the mark on your face.

You’re both silent then, as he just stares at what he did, but you smile suddenly, as he stutters. “I… you…I should-”

“Thank you,” you cut him off then. “For a moment sometimes I forget how fucking horrible you are.” As you turn away, you’re slipping your hair to the other side of your face, so that it’s even more apparent. “So they can see you treat humans how you should, right? Beneath you.”

Suguru’s heart pounds in his chest now, you’ve slapped him, he’s said the nastiest things, you’ve both declared hate. He’s slaughtered fucking villages, but something about his hand print on your cheek feels just too far. What’s he become, what’s he doing, why does he care if you’re hurt? Soon you and all of useless humanity will be dead.

Even if he keeps you around, who would you have? You’d be some toy, a pretty prisoner for his pleasure. You’re nothing, nothing, nothing.

Nothing.

You look at him curiously, as you wait for him to signal for the curtain to lift, standing so damn strong and proud, you remind him of his friends, of people he’s loved and lost. Your resilience in the face of everything, it’s stupid but admirable, fuck he’s admiring you, he’s…

He’s caring for you.

He’s desiring you more than anyone.

He’s upset that he just hurt you, more upset than you clearly are, what do you expect from a monster, but this, but coldness, cruelty. He’d shown you no affection aside from a small brush of his lips on your shoulder, a kiss on your clit, those were sexual. He doesn’t show you anything else but his cruelty.

“Are you going to start?” You ask, voice not even shaken, wearing his smack like a badge of honor, not sensing the inner turmoil. “Need to hit the other one, make it even or something?”

“Shut the fuck up.” You blink then, and he grabs your face, thumb brushing over raised skin, he’s too strong, you’re too pathetic and small. “Useless, weak, stupid little human.”

You go to open your mouth when he slams his lips against yours, you exhale at the sensation, yanking back in confusion at how your lips tingle, how your heart hammers in your ears. You panic as you feel it, something far different than anything before.

You can’t.

“I’d rather you hit me than kiss me.”

“I bet you would.” He drags you back to his lips again, stumbling as the onlookers from behind see what’s unfolding, mad passionate and angry kisses, teeth clicking, as you bite his lower lip till you draw blood, and he laughs at you.

“Don’t fucking kiss me.” You watch as he touches the blood on his lips, hearing a low moan that makes no sense.

“You have something, there is cursed energy, there has to be.” You laugh at him then, outright, as he studies you in the dark.

“There are no excuses for you, I’m all human. If you like anything about me, even if it’s just my pussy, I’m human.”

He curses under his breath, as you right yourself, and he aches to…

Goddamit Suguru Geto wants to apologize.

To a human, a monkey, someone beneath him, the cause of all wrong with the goddamn world. You all cause it all.

Right?

But he can’t live with smacking you now, it makes him sick, he wonders what younger him would think, would say. He wonders what Satoru would think, but then, Satoru’s long since given up on him, he’s sure. The havoc he’s brought for the past eight years alone is unforgivable, he wonders… is he going too far? But he can’t make those thoughts tangible, not now.

“You can go to your rooms if you wish.” Is all he says, and you look at him in shock again. “If you don’t… feel well now.”

“Why would you care how I feel? I’m a tool.” As you spit his own words back at him, he can do nothing but agree.

“Then let’s begin.” The curtains lift, and it’s a different Suguru than you know, he’s laughing and joking, and pointing, as he spews the most vile things about humans he can, and you’re just sitting there next to him. The few humans he allows look almost as terrified as you do, as you tremble and try to hold it together.

When it’s finally over, you go to head to your chambers, and he pauses you, a hand on your waist, you look up at him curiously. “I’ll have you tonight.”

“Again?” You whisper, he drags you now, away from your chamber, you blink in confusion as he pulls you further down the halls. Mimiko and Nanako wave at you curiously, and he pats their heads and murmurs a fond good night, before taking you by your wrist once more. “Why your room?”

“Why ask endless questions, human?” You go to protest as you enter his room for the first time, but you can’t speak once he’s got you against the door, barred with his arms. “What exactly are you?”

“I’m a human, Lord Geto.”

“That’s what you call me, huh?” Your jaw locks, when he cups your face, right where he hit you prior, you can still feel the shock, the sting.

“I could call you an emo bitch, but you like to smack for that, and I’d like my jaw intact.” He exhales now, forehead resting against yours, once again, too intimate, too close. “Don’t kiss me again, if I can ask anything.”

“You think you get to ask things from me?” You shake your head. “Hate kissing me, huh?”

“Despise it. More than anything.” His lips are a breath away from yours, when he turns you, having you face the door, hands pressed on the cool wood, and he’s slipping your dress up your hips.

“Spread your thighs.” You keep them together, frustrating him to no end.

Imagine if you wanted him.

If this was your choice.

“Fine, stupid little monkey.” He spreads them for you, finding you soaking wet, clicking sounds as his fingers pump in and out, and your head falls back, as you moan out loud.

“I hate you, Suguru.” You whisper softly, he dies then, at the use of his name, from your perfect lips, shoving two fingers inside you to the knuckle, you’re drooling down his hands, down his sleeves.

“I know you do, it’s what humans do, it’s how you create them. Fuck you’re soaked.” You blink as you register his words, as he turns you again, dropping to his knees, you gasp at the sight.

“I’ll cum without it. You don’t have to.” You whisper, knowing this man’s tongue makes you stupid, him on his knees makes you stupid, you can barely function when he puts a leg on his broad shoulder.

“Do you ever shut the fuck up I wondered? But then I realized, this is the only time you do.” He buries his face against your hot, eager pussy again, and you don’t even try to fight it, your head smacks the wall as his mouth finds you.

“It’s the only time I don’t h-hate you completely…” He chuckles, and you damn near laugh at the insanity, when he presses a kiss on your inner thigh, biting it between his teeth as you’re trembling.

“Mutually beneficial.”

“That’s it. The only reason.”

“Right.” He buries his face against you, moaning as he sucks your clit into his hot mouth, and you’re cumming then and there, pulling on this psycho’s silly locks, as he drinks every bit of cum you produce, dying for you to scream his name.

Insanity.

You’re insanity.

He’s humming as he’s got your little clit in his mouth, looking at you under long lush lashes as you cum so hard you nearly fall, clinging to him barely. He drags you down then, slamming you on the floor and shoving his cock fully in, groaning and kissing you once more, you shove at his chest.

“Fuck me, don’t kiss me, d-don’t.”

“You should taste yourself, stupid little pathetic bitch. How good you taste, what you fucking do.” You glare, but he’s kissing you again, as he fucks you, and it’s overwhelming, the dizziness, how good it is, how perfect he feels. “Prefer me to spit it in your mouth?”

“What!?” He spits then, as he holds your mouth open, chuckling darkly.

“Swallow.”

Why do you obey!?

It’s hard to hate a man who eats pussy and fucks like the god he thinks he is, though you’d never fucking let him know.

Suguru can’t get enough of you after that night, not even fucking close, and soon you’re in a whole cult meeting, and you’re cockwarming him. You hate this - you want to hate it at least- you tell yourself, the fact that you’re casually in his lap in front of hundreds of followers, as he’s spewing hatred, all while being shoved deep in your pussy.

You’re soaking him down to his balls, his thighs, as his veiny cock just pulses inside you, unmoving, and you feel how hot your cheeks are, your ears, trying desperately not to move. Suguru hears someone ask about you then, referring to you as a ‘monkey’ and he glares, before flinging a curse in their direction, cock twitching in your tight entrance.

All of this mind you while he has a goddamn creepy one eyed curse just standing with a morbid grin. This psycho holds a meeting while he’s buried eight inches deep in your cunt, with curses and curse users all around, not missing a single word. You look at him and hate him more, and you still hate him, even when you’re left alone, and he finally moves you up and down him.

“F-fuck… feel you… stupid, pathetic pussy so wet?” You shake your head when he lifts you off and spins you, putting you on top of him. He’s fucking up into you now, grabbing your ass as you cling to him on his plush cushions, and the angle feels so good your eyes roll back, head lolling to the side.

“F-fuck you, Suguru.” He groans at that, at his name, picking you up and slamming him down on his sensitive cock, as you eye the creepy ass curse, mumbling - ‘it’s f-fucking watching’.

Suguru laughs then, not a dark chuckle, it’s… real, as he brushes your hair back and flips you on your back for a moment, studying you with mirth in his eyes. For just one moment, as the curse disintegrates, you think… Is there more to him, is that glimmer a piece of who he used to be?

No, there can’t be.

“A whole room watched you sitting on my cock, but you mind the curse?” He’s… being teasing? You just glare, and he laughs again, enjoying it too much, enjoying you far too much.

He should worry about that, but you look too pretty, especially when he folds you in a mating press, making you suck in a breath, eyes wide on him. “This is how babies are best made, how you'll take my cum.”

You just nod weakly, while he's slamming into you, even though you've taken him many times now, the stretch and how deep he hit were too much to take. Your hands grip his back, nails digging in, and he groans at it, as he folds you under his weight, his full lips parted, eyes boring into yours, watching as you struggle to take him.

“You should beg me, for my cum inside you.”

“Hah- n-never.” He glares, pressing harder on the backs of your thighs, fucking you rougher and rougher, until you’re both shattering messes, and he’s cum so deep you feel him everywhere. You shove at him when he lays atop of you after a moment, your thighs falling to the side, as you try to get yourself together. “Beg you? You’re even more delusional than I thought.”

“You can’t keep lying.” He brushes your hair back, jaw locking as he studies your fucked out face. “You fucking love it, me inside you. Bet you have never felt anything better in your shitty human existence.”

Your teeth clench together. “You’re a conceited, arrogant, psychotic, delusional man.”

“That’s all?” He asks, raising a brow.

“With a good dick, yes, that doesn’t matter. How long till you kill me? Till you kill everyone?” He pauses, watching your perfect breasts heave up and down, as your little hands now push on his chest. “Sure, I enjoy it, what do you care, Suguru?”

“I… you just… why do…” How do you make him stutter, a man like him, a puny little girl like you have him on his knees, have him obsessed, you’re all he can even fucking think of.

You can’t fall into this, into him, with his beautiful face and his sad fucking eyes, you can’t fix this man, there’s no fixing the psychotic nature of him. As badly as you want to, as much as you feel that you keep in, that’s brimming to the surface as you lean up on your elbows, and tears make their way out of your eyes, falling down your cheeks.

Suguru pauses, as you can’t hold it back anymore, as he’s pulling back, out of you, making a mess with all of your fluids, making you feel empty. “What does it matter if I enjoy something when I’ll be dead soon? Will you… kill our baby if it’s human too?”

Suguru scowls now, on his knees, as you hastily cover up, hands shaking. “What the fuck do you mean, powers are genetic-”

“No, you don’t know that. What if one kid has em, one doesn’t huh? Gonna kill one of my kids?” He blinks rapidly, opening his mouth as you stand, and he looks up at you. “You better hope I’m long dead if you do, because I will make sure that’s the last thing you ever do.”

“Will you fucking stop?” He is standing now, grabbing your shoulders, as you shake your head, heart ripping into pieces.

“I can’t feel things for you.” You say, more to yourself than him. “Yes, pathetic monkeys feel things. As you said, too much. We cause them, yeah?”

He gulps now, hands squeezing your shoulders too tightly. “Yes, you cause them, all of it. If not for humanity, then-”

“Then what would you do? If a kid doesn’t have any cursed energy?”

“I wouldn’t kill them.” He whispers, and you laugh without humor.

“No, I can’t believe that. Where’s your line, Suguru Geto? Where does this end for you, for anyone?” He pauses as a human girl destroys him with her looks, when you cup his face for just a moment, making his heart falter. “That Suguru I met, he was sweet. I actually had a crush.” Your words speak to something, he’s transfixed, refusing to believe it.

“You were staring at Gojo.” You shake your head and smile.

“That’s what you saw. Yeah, your friend is something to look at for sure. But no, it was you that day I had eyes on. Felt butterflies.” You can’t believe you’re saying it, that he’s… listening, for just a moment. You sigh. “Do you ever miss him? The guy that you were?”

Yes.

No.

He can’t.

Suguru says nothing as you drop your hands, tugging your robes closed. “Can you summon Sashimi?”

“You named it fucking Sashimi?” You glare, a little back to normal, but he dresses, summoning him for you, as you sigh a bit.

“I’m really sore, okay? Can I go rest?” Suguru scoffs, feigning as if he could care less, when he wants you again, more of you, all of you, like a black hole that’s sucking him in deeper and deeper.

“Can’t handle dick with your puny little body?” He taunts, instead of just… Saying it.

“Not this much. You could get your-”

“I don’t go to anyone.” You blink in surprise, as he confirms what you had assumed a bit from Manami.

“Why?”

Suguru scoffs, rolling his violet eyes. “Why!? I don’t have to explain myself to a pathetic-”

“Yeah, never mind. Come on Sashimi.” You walk off, leaving him to swipe a hand across his face, your scent is all over him, your slick still on his cock, his fingers still taste like you.

“Fuck.” He grumbles, as his room spins, as he’s covered in you, consumed by you, wondering…

Did he miss who he was?

No, surely not. He sets his jaw, you’ve taken so much of his mind, and he has much to do, heading to his room alone, but he can’t focus, all he does is stare at his ceiling, thinking of you, of your words. Your face, your body, your eyes that see right fucking through him.

God, Suguru hates you.

A/N LMAO why did I think I could do anything short? I need four parts now not three my baddd babess lol. But I hope you're enjoying psycho whipped Sugu- the monkey thing should lessen as he gets more pathetic hehe. Tysm for all the comments and love !?! I am excited to see what ya'll think hehe

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