Clan Head!Gojo

𖧧 ٫٫ Houkago wa Kissaten, icons. 스

A Pleasure to Have in Class | Nanami Kento x f!reader

Warnings: 18+, MDNI, Explicit Sexual Content, Teacher Nanami Kento, Breeding Kink, Daddy Kink, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Oral Sex, Classroom Sex, Desk Sex

Word Count: 6.1K

Summary: You and your son's hot new teacher give a whole new meaning to "parent/teacher conference".

Cross-posted to AO3

You rushed towards the building as quickly as your pumps would allow, and you waved down a faculty member who was exiting, signaling them to hold the door lest you be locked out. A work meeting of yours had lasted longer than anticipated, and you now found yourself hurrying through the halls of the school to catch your son’s teacher for the last parent/teacher conference of the day.

Your frantic search drew to a close when you finally located your son’s classroom – the door was slightly ajar, but regardless, you knocked on the doorframe twice to announce your arrival.

“Good evening, Mr. Nanami,” you said, stepping into the classroom and shutting the door behind you. “I’m sorry for running late – absolutely hectic day at the office! I’m Yuji’s mother.”

Yuji’s teacher, Mr. Nanami, put down the stack of papers he had been grading and stood up from his seat to greet you, taking your hand in his to give you a firm shake. His large hand enveloped your own, and the rolled-up sleeves of his sapphire blue button-down shirt showed off his impressive, veiny forearms.

You had heard whispers amongst the other PTA moms about how attractive the new teacher was, but their gossiping did not do the man justice. Simply put, Mr. Nanami was hot – and not just your run-of-the-mill kind of hot, but absolutely mouthwatering.

His cheekbones and jawline looked as if they had been expertly carved from marble, and the aura he exuded was one of confidence. He seemed like a serious man who had his shit together, and that only added to his appeal.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you,” he said in his rich, baritone voice. “No need to apologize – from what your son has told me, it seems like your position is quite demanding.”

“I appreciate you being so understanding,” you replied, sitting down in the chair in front of his desk. “My son tells me you’re his favorite teacher, so I’m very happy to finally meet the man he looks up to so much. I’ve heard nothing but good things about you, Mr. Nanami.”

For the next half hour or so, Mr. Nanami updated you on Yuji’s performance in class, going over areas in which he excelled, and areas of opportunity. You were entranced by the manner in which he spoke. He was incredibly eloquent and articulate, and his words made it perfectly clear that he loved his job.

He went into detail about some of the topics Yuji struggled with, and had an answer for every one of your questions, demonstrating that he had given a lot of thought as to how to help your son succeed. For every challenge, Mr. Nanami presented you with a well-thought-out performance improvement plan, and it became increasingly clear why your son loved him so much.

Underneath his stoic exterior, Mr. Nanami was a kind man who cared deeply about his students, and you found your attraction to him grow the more he spoke.

“Yuji is an absolute pleasure to have in class,” he said, drawing your attention back to the conversation at hand. His eyes seemed to narrow and darken as he eyed you. “And now that I’m getting the chance to speak to you, I can see why – he must get his charm from you.”

You raised a brow. Perhaps you were reading too much into his tone, but that didn’t seem like the kind of thing one would just say to a parent during a parent/teacher conference.

Mr. Nanami ran a hand through his blond locks, and you blatantly observed the way his biceps flexed when he raised his arm. He was naturally alluring, and it had been ages since the last time you had felt this attracted to a man, so it was becoming more and more difficult to ignore the ache between your legs.

“I must say, Mr. Nanami, I can see why Yuji speaks so highly of you,” you said. You leaned forward, placed your elbows on his desk, and rested your chin atop your interlaced fingers. “I’m glad he has a man like you to look up to.”

“Well, you’ve raised a wonderful young man, Mrs. Itadori-”

“Miss Itadori,” you said. You flashed him your left hand, showing off your bare ring finger, and smiled. “I never married.”

“Miss Itadori, then.”

“And what about you Mr. Nanami?” you asked, quirking a brow. “Any children?”

“No, no children.”

“Married?”

“No,” he replied. You hummed.

“Really? That’s quite a surprise,” you said. You leaned back into your seat and crossed your legs, causing your skirt to ride up and flash a bit of thigh, the only thing shielding the view of your bare leg being the skin toned pantyhose you were wearing. “I envy the woman who will be lucky enough to snatch you up.”

“What do you mean?” he asked. You smiled at him before biting down on your bottom lip. He was totally oblivious to your flirting – he was so cute.

“Well, you’re obviously great with kids, so you would make a wonderful father, and you have a good head on your shoulders – I find that hard to come by nowadays, especially from a man. Frankly, I find it hard to believe that you’re still on the market.”

A soft shade of pink dusted Nanami’s cheeks, and you couldn’t help but let out a quiet giggle. You didn’t think it would be so easy to get a man as levelheaded as he is so flustered. He tore his gaze from you and loosened his tie as he cleared his throat.

“I appreciate the compliment, Miss Itadori.”

“You know, Mr. Nanami,” you cooed. You stood up from your chair and sat on the edge of his desk before leaning in to reach for his tie. You gently tugged on it, a wordless suggestion that he lean in closer, and he obliged. Nanami’s face was mere inches away from yours, and you could hear his breath hitch as you began to close the distance between the two of you. “I really appreciate everything you’ve done for my son.”

“Miss Itadori, I-I don’t think this is appropriate,” he choked out. You sighed and released your hold on his tie, allowing him to sink back into his seat.

“You’re right – I apologize.” You stood from the desk and smoothed out your skirt, disappointed by the turn of events. “I should head out. I’m sorry this ran so late – I’m almost certain we’re the last ones in the building and I’m sure you’re eager to get out of here after such a long day.”

You started to reach for your coat and bag when you heard Nanami’s chair roll away as he stood up abruptly.

“Miss Itadori – please don’t take my reaction as an insult. This may be improper of me to say, but you’re a beautiful woman and under different circumstances…” Nanami trailed off, and you eyed him curiously as he walked around his desk to stand in front of you. He shoved his hands into his pockets, the innocent gesture a clear sign as to how awkward he felt in that moment. “Yuji is fortunate to have a mother like you who cares so deeply for his success, but please don’t feel obligated to repay me in any way. I’m just doing my job.”

You blinked, bemused, and brought your hand up to your mouth as you laughed.

“Mr. Nanami,” you said, walking towards him until he was within arm’s reach. “I can assure you that I wasn’t flirting with you to… compensate you for your efforts. I was doing so for purely selfish reasons.”

“…ah.”

God, he was cute – he really didn’t get it, did he?

You reached out to fix his tie and allowed your fingers to travel downwards so that your palms rested on his chest, and you were pleasantly surprised by the firmness of his pectorals. What kind of teacher was built like this?

His heartrate raced beneath your touch and you stood on your toes to whisper into his ear.

“You are a very handsome man, Mr. Nanami, and I’m a woman who knows what she wants.” His hands found purchase on your waist, and he steadied you as you lowered yourself back down. “But I understand that you don’t think this is the time nor place for my advances – you have to maintain your professionalism, of course.”

“Miss Itadori…”

You backed away from him and grabbed your purse.

“Under different circumstances, right?” you asked, shooting him a coquettish smile as you repeated his words. “Well, have a good night – and thank you for taking such good care of my son.”

You turned towards the door to make your exit but stopped short when you felt Nanami’s hand wrap around your bicep.

“Wait,” he began. You tilted your head to the side, confused by his actions, and your skin prickled with excitement as his hand released your arm to trace a line up to your cheek. “I apologize if this is too forward but -”

“Mr. Nanami,” you interrupted. You closed the distance between your bodies so your chest was flush against his. “I think I’ve made it perfectly clear that I find you to be sinfully attractive so, please, don’t worry about being too forward because I can assure y-”

It was Nanami’s turn to interrupt you as he brought one of his hands to the back of your head, and crashed his lips against yours. Your arms snaked their way around his neck, and Nanami’s free hand gripped your side, with his thumb brushing the spot just below your breast.

His hands roamed across your body, running the pads of his fingers down the length of your spine and leaving a trail of goosebumps wherever he made contact, while you tangled your fingers in locks, disheveling his once perfectly coiffed hair. A firm grope of your ass caused you to gasp out in surprise, and Nanami took advantage of that moment to deepen the kiss, inserting his tongue into your mouth as he slowly pushed you towards the edge of his desk.

You pulled away for a moment and admired the flushed look of Nanami’s cheeks as the two of you regulated your heavy breathing. It felt as if the temperature of the room had skyrocketed, and your racing heartbeat thrummed in your eardrums, sending pulsations throughout your whole body – including your now wet cunt. All this and you had only kissed the man.

Nanami pressed his forehead against yours as his breaths became steady, and his lips barely grazed yours as he whispered to you.

“Is this alright?” he asked. You titled your head up a fraction of an inch to touch your lips to his and breathed out your affirmation.

“More than alright.”

Taking your words as a sign to keep going, Nanami lifted you up just high enough to seat you on top of his desk and pressed his thigh in between your legs, coaxing a moan out of you. Your damp panties did little to shield your cunt from the rough material of his slacks, and your hips moved of their own accord, grinding down on his thigh and soaking through his pants.

“God,” he hissed in between kisses. “I can already feel how wet you are.”

You merely hummed in response as you started to undo his tie, tossing it aside to God knows where before working on unbuttoning his shirt. Nanami mirrored your actions with urgency and before you had a chance to pull his shirt off of him, he had already rid you of your blouse. His hands immediately found for your tits, and he kneaded them over your lacy, black bra. You groaned into his mouth, spurring him on, and allowed your hands to explore the solid planes of his chest and abdomen. Nanami’s muscles tensed under your touch, and you could feel his quad flex between your legs as you continued to rock yourself against his leg.

Nanami’s mouth parted from yours, leaving you disappointed for only a fraction of a second before his lips started to make their way down your neck. He lightly nipped at your skin, following up with hot, wet kisses to soothe the spots that he had undoubtedly bruised. He brought a hand behind your back and deftly unhooked your bra, separating from you just long enough for you to slip it off before he went back to his ministrations.

You leaned back on the desk to allow him better access to your bare chest, and groaned uncomfortably when you felt something digging into your back. Sensing your discomfort, Nanami swiped his arm across his desk, sending its contents crashing towards the floor. The sound of a mug shattering rang in your ears, but Nanami paid no mind to it, preferring to focus on the task at hand.

Nanami gently pushed you down so you lay flat across his desk, and you moaned with pleasure as one of his hands was replaced by his mouth sucking on your tit. He kissed and licked around your nipple, leaving yet another bitemark on the swell of your breast.

He swiped his tongue across the valley of your breasts as he began to rub one of your nipples between his thumb and index finger. His mouth travelled to your other nipple and you moaned when he began to lightly flick it with his tongue.

You were absolutely breathless, and the only thing on your mind was the nonstop throbbing of your cunt as it rubbed against Nanami’s abdominals and clenched around nothing – your pussy was begging to be filled.

“Fuck,” you moaned. “I need you inside of me.”

“Patience is a virtue, Miss Itadori” Nanami whispered against your skin, switching his mouth over to your other nipple. The hand that had been previously groping at you slid down your side, tracing the contours of your body as he made his way to the zipper of your skirt. You tugged on Nanami’s hair, pulling him up so that his mouth met yours once again. The only sounds filling the room were those of your lips smacking together and the sound of Nanami pulling your zipper down at a torturously slow pace.

Nanami stepped back so that he could fully remove your skirt and you took the brief reprieve from his kisses to admire his flawlessly toned torso. You had suspected that he was built like an Adonis when you saw the way his muscles bulged under his shirt, but now that you had a perfect view of his bare torso, you reflexively licked your lips.

You longed to have your mouth on every single one of the bumps and curves of his body. You wanted to feel his firm chest pressed up against yours. You wanted his rough hands to explore every inch of your skin. You wanted to feel his lips on your plush inner thighs.

Even under the harsh lighting of the fluorescent bulbs overhead, Nanami Kento was, without a doubt, the sexiest man you had ever laid eyes on.

Nanami got down onto his knees and you squealed with surprise and delight when he hooked his arms around your thighs and pulled you towards the edge of the desk so that you could feel his hot breath on your clothed wet cunt.

He had neglected to remove your pantyhose when he rid you of your skirt, but you realized that that had been intentional when Nanami pinched the translucent material, pulled on it, and let it snap back into place against your inner thigh. He was toying with you, and it was driving you crazy.

As if reading your mind, Nanami placed a kiss on your cunt, and dug his nails into your pantyhose to rip a giant hole to expose your crotch. He swiped his tongue over your panties and you whimpered with anticipation as you felt his fingers walk their way over to the lace so he could shove them aside.

Without an ounce of hesitation, he dove in between your legs, burying his face in your folds and rubbing at your clit with his pointed nose while his tongue dipped inside of you.

“Oh god – oh god,” you moaned.

Nanami ate you out with unmatched fervor as if you were the only meal he had had in weeks – a meal he just couldn’t get enough of – and he hummed into your pussy with satisfaction as your slick coated his tongue.

His fingers dug into your thighs to keep you steady in place as your hips bucked upwards almost involuntarily. Your entire body was wracked by your heavy breathing, and the lewd sounds of Nanami sucking on your clit were almost loud enough to drown out the sound of your moaning.

Your hands futilely groped around the desk, desperately searching for something – anything – to grab onto. Unable to find an anchor, your hands ultimately found purchase in Nanami’s tousled locks. You almost didn’t think he could get any closer to you, but when you pressed his head into your pussy, he proved you wrong as his tongue reached a spot even deeper within your cunt.

“You taste amazing,” he breathed, and you found yourself whimpering yet again when he removed his tongue to speak, desperate for more stimulation. You pushed his head back to its rightful place in between your legs, and let out a shrill moan when his tongue was replaced by two of his long, thick fingers delving into your sopping wet cunt. They slid in with ease, thanks to his spit and the juices of your arousal, and the loud squelching of him pumping his fingers in and out of you was, by far, the most lascivious thing you had ever heard.

Your moans grew more and more distressed as you neared your first orgasm. The way Nanami worked at your clit with his tongue made it seem like the two of you had done this thousands of times. He was a fast learner, and quickly picked up on all of your cues indicating whenever you really liked what he was doing. He expertly flicked at the nub with the tip of his tongue, and his skillful, deliberate movements had you seeing stars.

He curled his fingers within you, pressing into a sensitive spot in your cunt at the same time he swiped his tongue over your clit. It elicited a long, squealing moan from your lips, and your grip on his hair tightened as your toes curled.

“Yes, yes, oh god, just like that,” you panted. “Oh, fuck, fuck, fuck! I’m so close!”

You dared to peer down at Nanami working at your pussy, and the sight alone of him in between your legs almost sent you careening over the edge.

It wasn’t until he peeked up at you through his long lashes with his tongue still deep in your cunt, that the wave of euphoria crashed over you, and you screamed out his name as you found your release. Nanami kept you pressed tightly against his mouth and drank up your essence – eager to have you ride out your orgasm on his tongue.

You could’ve sworn you blacked out for a moment – you had never had an orgasm quite like that.

You released his locks and dropped back onto the desk with one of your arms flying to cover your eyes and protect them from the ceiling lamps. Your legs may have been shaking like leaves in a hurricane, and your breathing may have been irregular, but you had never, ever felt this good.

If he was able to make you cum like that with just his tongue and his fingers, you couldn’t wait to have his cock inside of you.

Nanami took the opportunity to rid you completely of your defiled pantyhose and underwear before getting up from his spot on the floor and wiping your remaining juices from his face with one of his clean fingers. He stared you dead in the eyes as he sucked all of his digits clean and you bit down on your lip lustfully.

You wanted to do unspeakable things to this man.

But, for now, your focus was on making him feel as good as he had made you feel.

Despite your still-trembling limbs, you propped yourself up and managed to stand before him to thank him with a sloppy kiss on his lips. He wrapped his arms around your waist and groaned into the kiss as he pulled your naked body close against him. You could feel the hardness of his erection begging to be released from the confines of his slacks and you were more than eager to help him take care of that.

“Was that okay?” he asked. You gawked at him before pulling him in for another kiss.

“Was that, okay? You just gave me one of the best orgasms of my entire life and you’re asking me if that was okay?” you laughed. “That was more than okay – and I would love to thank you properly.”

“No thanks necessary – I might have enjoyed that even more than you did.”

Your pussy throbbed at his words, and you palmed at the prominent bulge in his pants. He bit down on his tongue to stifle a moan and you tutted at him, rubbing your palm against him in a circular motion and leaning into his ear.

“I want to hear you, Mr. Nanami,” you whispered. “Now be a good boy and have a seat for me.”

You could hear him gulp expectantly as he followed orders and took a seat in his desk chair. You planted your palms on his thighs and ran your hands all over them, teasingly brushing over his erection.

You could feel the corded muscles of his quads flex as you used them to help you lower yourself into a kneeling position in front of him, but before you reached the ground, he stopped you.

“Wait,” he said. You eyed him curiously as he pulled his arms free of his sleeves and removed his button-down shirt. He folded it up and placed it on the ground, right where your knees were set to land. “I want you to be comfortable.”

You had known this man all of one hour, but you could already confidently say that he was perfect.

He spread his legs out wide enough so that you can squeeze yourself in between them, and you leisurely dragged your index finger from his sternum down to the trail of blond hairs directly below his navel. You lightly scratched his skin with your manicured nail, and drew a loaded sigh from Nanami’s lips.

His belt was unbuckled in a matter of seconds, and you could hear the creaking of leather as he gripped onto the arms of his chair, clearly growing excited by the prospect you taking him into your mouth. Next came the button of slacks, followed by the zipper which you pulled down slowly, teasing him just as he had teased you before.

Nanami lifted his hips for you to be able to pull down his pants and boxer briefs, and you couldn’t help but moan when his cock sprung free.

“Jesus Christ,” you breathed.

To say he had a nice cock would be an understatement. It was longer than most of the ones you had seen, and definitely girthier. Most impressive of all was how big his balls were, and you couldn’t wait to feel them slap against your pussy when he inevitably fucked you on his desk.

Precum glistened on the tip of his cock, and you carefully wrapped one of your hands around his length, using the pad of your thumb to spread his precum all over the head. Nanami shuddered and you experimentally swirled your tongue around his swollen tip. He hissed at your actions, and what you wanted more than anything was to hear more of those sweet sounds come out of him.

You allowed saliva to pool in your mouth, and stared up at him as you let it flow from your lips to moisten his cock. A few more pumps of your hand coated him entirely with your makeshift lubricant, and once you were satisfied, you jerked him off with one hand and fondled his balls with the other.

Nanami groaned as your pace quickened and you continued to rub at his tip with your thumb. His cock twitched in your hand, and you took that as your cue to switch over to using your mouth.

“God,” he moaned. “You’re really good at this.”

You stared up at him from your spot in between his legs, and you could tell he loved the view of you on your knees with his fat cock stuffed into your mouth. He threw his head back when you took him deeper into your throat, and you could hear his grip on the leather arms tighten when he heard you gagging on his length.

He was so big that you wondered just how you were even physically able to take his cock bottoming out in your throat, but you were up for the challenge – especially when he rewarded you with those incredibly sexy moans.

Your hand continued to play with those heavy balls of his, while your other hand wrapped around the base of his cock and jerked him off. Whatever couldn’t fit in your fist was taken care of by your mouth, and the sloppiness of your blowjob had spit dripping down his cock and onto the leather seat of his chair.

You wanted to suck the life out of this man but, much to your dismay, he stopped you.

“W-wait,” he stuttered. You pulled your mouth off of his cock with a loud ‘pop’ and glanced up at him through your lashes. He grabbed onto your forearms and helped you stand before bringing you in for a kiss. He started with your lips, and then trailed down your neck, lightly biting on your pulse point. “I don’t want to cum until I’ve properly fucked you.”

“Mr. Nanami, there is nothing proper about what I want you to do to me,” you teased. He growled in your ear and spun you around so your back was against his chest. His hand snaked around you and down in between your legs to rub at your clit, causing you to whimper and grind your ass against his fully erect cock.

While his index and middle fingers alternated between rubbing your clit and dipping into your pussy, he planted his free hand on your upper back and urged you forward so that you were bent over his desk, wet cunt on full display from behind.

Nanami grabbed his cock, spreading your slick coating his fingers down his entire length, and giving it a few solid pumps. He slipped himself between your legs, and rubbed himself along your folds without entering you – it was excruciating.

“Please,” you whined. “I need you inside of me.”

He went out of his way to torture you, and only gave you the satisfaction of him slowly inserting just the tip inside of you. You whimpered and attempted to thrust your hips backwards so that he could sink into you further, but he wouldn’t allow it, instead keeping you firmly in place so he could go at his pace.

“I’m going to go slow, okay?”

He said this out of concern for you, knowing that taking his entire cock might be a bit difficult even though you were more than fully prepped. He pushed into you slowly, and with every inch, you grew more and more impatient and desperate for him to actually fuck you.

The delicious stretch of his cock within your walls had your eyes rolling to the back of your head and your grip on the desk’s lip intensified to the point you were sure your nails were going to leave crescent-shaped marks in the wood.

Nanami let out a sigh of immense satisfaction as he bottomed out and held your ass flush against his pelvis.

“Fuck, Nanami, you feel so fucking good,” you breathed. Your walls clenched around him and he groaned.

“You’re so tight and wet,” he moaned. “Let me know when I can move.”

“Nanami, if you don’t fuck me into this desk right now, I swear to- ah!”

Before you could finish your sentence, Nanami pulled himself almost completely out of your pussy and slammed himself back into you. The few pens that remained on his desk clattered to the floor as Nanami fucked into you so hard the wood started protesting underneath you. Your moans, Nanami’s grunts, and the creaking of the desk were perfectly in sync and you were almost certain the desk was going to give out at any moment.

The two of you were so loud, it was a wonder you could even hear the sound of skin smacking together as he incessantly fucked you from behind and had his balls slapping against your cunt.

“You feel fucking amazing,” he groaned, and he tangled his fingers in your hair to keep your head pressed against the desk, trapping you in your current position and surrendering yourself to him completely.

“Harder – I want you to fuck me harder!” you cried out. Eager to please, Nanami pushed into you so hard that the desk began to scoot across the floor. “God! Yes! Just like that! Oh, God, right there, right there!”

The tip of his cock kissed your cervix and you cried out shamelessly – all worries of someone possibly overhearing you flew out the window. Your walls tightened around him as you felt yourself rapidly approaching your release.

“Don’t,” he said, emphasizing his warning his another hard thrust. “Don’t squeeze my cock like that unless you want me to cum inside you.”

“And what if that is what I want?” you asked teasingly, choking out your words as your legs began to give out. “I want you to cum in me – I want it so bad.”

“Careful,” he cautioned – another thrust.

“I want you to fuck me like you want to put a baby in me,” you said. Nanami groaned and his cock twitched within your walls; you let out a laugh in disbelief. “Oh, you like that, huh?”

You whined with disappointment as he completely pulled out of you, denying you your orgasm, and you squealed in surprise when he flipped you over so that you were lying with your back flat against the desk and your legs hanging over the edge. Nanami grabbed your calves and slung one leg over each of his shoulders.

You had to spread your legs out quite a bit to accommodate his size, and you admired the view of his large, sturdy frame in between your thighs. You hungrily eyed his bulging muscles and, if you weren’t dying for instant gratification, you would love to experiment with him and see what kind of crazy, acrobatic positions he’d be able fuck you in.

Nanami lined his cock up with your entrance and thrust himself back into you without warning.

“Say it again,” he commanded.

“Fuck a baby into me – I want you to fuck a baby into me!”

“Good girl.”

Your cries were rewarded with Nanami relentlessly pounding into you, and his ferocity only spurred you on as you began to mindlessly babble.

“Do you want me to make you a daddy?” you asked. Nanami grunted in time with another hard thrust, and you screamed out in pleasure. “Yeah, I’ll make you a daddy – fuck a baby into me, daddy.”

“You want me to stuff you full of my cum?” he asked, “You’d like that wouldn’t you?”

“Yes, daddy,” you moaned.

Something within him must have snapped, and if you thought he was fucking your brains out before, he was fucking the life out of you now.

There was something about seeing a man like him become totally undone that drove you absolutely mad. He was so well put together and self-actualized that you felt an immense sense of pride in being the cause of his absolutely primal behavior. His baritone voice made your cunt throb with every grunt, because it was just so damn animalistic, and his nostrils flared every time he hit your cervix. His hair had fallen out of place and was plastered against his forehead with sweat from fucking you like his life depended on it – he was the very image of perfection.

Nanami, of course, thought you were an absolute vision. The way your tits bounced every time he pounded into you and the way your voice started to become hoarse from your non-stop moaning and screaming made his cock twitch.

A ring of cream was forming around the base of his cock and he slipped in and out of you so easily it seemed almost unreal.

“You want me to fill you up?” he asked. You moaned your affirmation and he brought his fingers to your clit, rubbing it furiously and drawing another scream out of you. “Use your words.”

“Yes, God, yes!” you cried. “I want you to fucking stuff me full of your cum – wanna make you a daddy!”

He could feel your legs trembling on his shoulders and your pussy spasming from the overstimulation of his cock inside of you and his thumb drawing circles on your clit.

“Are you going to be a good girl and cum for me when I tell you to?”

“Yes, please, I want to cum so bad – please, please, please” you begged. Nanami continued to fuck into you, not granting you even a millisecond of rest, until his thrusts became erratic as he felt himself nearing his orgasm.

“Cum for me,” he finally ordered. Your body obeyed of its own volition, and you released one final, high-pitched scream as you convulsed around him, cumming all over his cock.

It was the final push he needed to find his own release, and you could feel his cock twitch inside of you as he emptied himself into your hot, wet cunt. Amidst the sounds of your screams and his moans, you heard something that sounded suspiciously like wood cracking.

The two of you stayed put for a moment, collecting yourselves and steadying your breathing, before Nanami slipped his soft cock out of you. You groaned at suddenly feeling so empty.

“Jesus Christ,” you panted. There was so much more you wanted to say – this was the best sex you had ever had and you wanted to praise him for it, but you were at a loss for words because of him probably literally fucking your brains out.

A moan escaped you when you felt Nanami shove a finger into your overly-sensitive pussy.

“You’re not going to waste a single drop,” he said, stuffing his cum back into your dripping cunt. You whined and nodded.

“Yes, sir.”

Nanami, ever the gentleman, helped you sit up, and you yelped when one of the desk’s legs snapped, dropping one side to the floor and cracking the wooden frame. The sudden movement made you stumble and almost roll off the desk, but Nanami wrapped his arms around your torso before you could fall over.

The two of you had done it, you had actually broken the desk.

You stared at each other in shock, and the silence was broken when you burst into a fit of laughter. Nanami’s brow furrowed.

“I have no idea how I’m going to explain this,” he said. You ran your fingers through his hair, slicking the stray, damp locks away from his forehead.

“Don’t worry too much about it – I’ll make sure to make a large donation to the school.”

“How generous of you,” he teased.

The two of you quickly got dressed and you turned to check the clock on the wall.

“Oh, it’s late,” you observed. “I need to pick Yuji up from the Fushiguro’s place.”

“Well, I certainly hope I won’t have to wait until the next parent/teacher conference to see you again,” Nanami said. His face was still flushed from your earlier activities, but you imagined that the redness of his cheeks intensified as he expressed his desire to continue whatever relationship the two of you now had.

You reached into your purse to pull out your wallet and plucked one of your business cards from the inner sleeve, handing it over to him with a coy smile.

“Maybe next time we can try this on my desk,” you purred. You grabbed your coat from its spot on the chair and stood on your toes to give him one final peck goodbye. “Have a good night, Kento. I’ll see you again very soon.”

:¨ ·.· ¨: DRUNK | sakusa kiyoomi

`· . ꔫ summary: in which, sakusa comes home drunk from an MSBY party, and he's clingier than usual.

content: (🦷) tooth-rotting fluff, sakusa being adorable, you're both married here, sucky writing (it's 4am for me 😭), timeskip.

warning/s: manga spoilers.

there's a knock on your door, so you get up to open it. there sakusa kiyoomi was, with an arm around bokuto for support. "hey, hey, y/n!" bokuto greets gleefully. behind him, are atsumu and hinata who both waved at you.

"ah, hello, bokuto." you smile at him, then turn to sakusa. "is he asleep?'

"huh?" bokuto checks, only to see sakusa struggling to keep his eyes open from staring at the ground, "nope! i think he's just dizzy from all the wine." bokuto laughs. you laugh with him because his positivity is undeniably contagious.

"you shoulda seen, omi. one glass in, and he was gone." atsumu said. you chuckled at atsumu's statement. you always knew sakusa was lightweight.

"i'll take it from here." you said as bokuto helped sakusa over to you. instead of the position sakusa was in a while ago, where he had an arm on bokuto's shoulders, he had his arms wrapped around your waist instead, while he placed his head on the crook of your neck.

you bid your goodbyes with the MSBY team and close the door. "hi, honey." you gently spoke out as sakusa nods.

"are you sleepy?" you try to lead him to the couch for him to lie down, but it's no use. his hold on you was too strong. "no.." he replied. you say a small, "okay," as your hands rested on his arms.

a minute or so has gone by with this intimate position, and sakusa finally moves. he presses a soft kiss to your fluffy cheek. "missed you lots." he mumbles, pressing one more.

you giggle since you're a bit ticklish, "is that so?"

"mhm."

you turn to face him, "shall i make you some tea?" you ask, brushing away his stray hair. a small pout forms on his lips, "not yet, later." he says in a stern tone, pulling you in closer for a longer hug.

later on, you suggest that you both should cuddle on the couch, and he agrees. so here you are, lying comfortably on your back with your husband on top of you, slowly drifting off to sleep.

you get a small "ping!" from your phone, and you turn it on to see that it's a message from atsumu.

atsumu sent 1 video.

atsumu: sorry that the video wasn't longer lol

you play the video on the lowest volume you have, and there's sakusa with hiccups. you couldn't hear the video properly, but you recognized sakusa's voice. there were a lot of sad "no's" and "hmm's.." from him.

then, you finally hear an audible sentence from him.

".. miss my wife. *hic* my pretty wife.." he mutters.

you watch the rest of the video with rosy cheeks. once you were finished, you saved it to your gallery and made sure to thank atsumu. you're definitely going to show sakusa in the morning.

© lowercase intended | loveephia

heavy is the crown

As princess, you are bound by duty to marry the notorious and elusive Onichynus general, in exchange for his protection of your kingdom from an impending war. On the night of your wedding, tradition demands that you undergo the consummation rites, sealing the fate of your marriage—and your future.

tags: sylus x reader, NSFW, MDNI, royalty!au, general-of-powerful-nation!sylus x princess-of-kingdom-in-trouble!reader, first time sex (mc is a virgin), unprotected sex, afab!reader, fem!reader, slight voyeurism & somno & cockwarming at the end, lowkey breeding kink, gender-based stereotypes against women due to the time period, writing this has been a fever dream, word count: 2.7k~ worldbuilding and 5.5k~ smut lmfao

read on ao3

You dared to dream once upon a time.

You dreamt of crossing oceans beyond your shores, sailing aboard majestic galleons you’d only seen in textbooks. In the quiet solitude of your bedchambers, you imagined laughing with the townsfolk of distant cities, dancing in cobblestone streets to the melodies of traveling minstrels, and finding love in a modest man who'd want nothing more than to offer you freshly picked blooms every morning.

In the sanctuary of sleep, your dreams would lull you with visions of a simple life. A stone-walled kitchen warmed by the glow of a crackling hearth, a garden vibrant with blossoms and fresh produce, and a cozy reading nook nestled in an arched window. A loyal companion would sometimes join you—a slothful cat, a melodious songbird, a high-spirited pup, or a darling mare to carry you through grassy plains and wildflower fields.

"Do you take this man to be your wedded husband, to share in life's trials and joys, to love and honor, till death do you part?"

But such dreams have no place in the heart of a woman whose shoulders bear her kingdom's fate.

And so, as you take in the muted glow of the setting sun through delicate ivory lace, you finally put those girlhood fantasies to rest.

“I do.”

—

Being the youngest and only princess came with its fair share of trials and triumphs.

Unlike the elder princes, whose lives revolved around grueling expectations and fierce competition for the throne, your position spared you such burdens. Born to a queen who had long believed her childbearing years were behind her, you were nothing short of a miracle, arriving over a decade after your last sibling. This had earned you the undivided affection of the entire castle, leaving you thoroughly indulged and doted upon.

However, growing up without siblings near your age, you often grappled with bouts of loneliness. While you had fostered polite acquaintances among the daughters of many nobles, you found their company wearisome. The endless succession of balls and garden parties always seemed to revolve around the same gossip: politics, fashion, whispers about some baron’s sixteen-year-old daughter betrothed to a forty-year-old viscount, and, of course, the inevitable question: had anyone received a marriage proposal yet?

You naturally had many—to your dismay.

The idea of marriage filled you with profound dread. As a girl tagging along in your mother’s tea parties, you had often overheard the confessions and lamentations of the noblewomen. Stories of infidelity, neglect, and abuse spilled from their lips—duchesses, marchionesses, and countesses; women who stood at the very summit of high society. To you, marriage seemed less a sacred bond and more a cruel sentence—one far grimmer than the gallows.

At least the gallows granted the mercy of a quick death.

But as a princess, you were bound to uphold the ideal image of a young lady. One who radiated beauty, yet with grace and poise. Intelligent, but subservient to your intended husband’s authority. And, most important of all, fertile—to bear him strong sons who would carry on his legacy.

It sickened you. You would rather succumb to the plague than endure such a miserable life. But given your title, you could only try to delay the inevitable.

And so, life continued as it was—a never-ending cycle of social gatherings, fending off suitors, reading through your library, mastering languages, and nurturing a growing collection of hobbies. It was a life of privilege and routine—one that, despite its predictability, offered you a quiet sense of fulfillment.

Alas, nothing holds constant in the world, and change arrived in the form of a looming war from enemies across the sea.

Though small in size, your kingdom of Noir was a veritable treasure trove. With its abundant mountains and rivers, the island was never in short supply of precious metals, gems, and rare minerals. It was renowned for producing the finest artisans, who crafted the most exquisite jewelry, armor, and weapons. While modest in territory, it more than compensated with a thriving and prosperous economy.

The ultimate conquest for any conqueror.

Through the town streets worn smooth by centuries of footfalls, the bustling plazas lined with charming merchant stalls, the outskirt villages tucked among lush woodlands, and even the weathered stone walls of the towering castle, whispers had always flowed like an unrelenting tide—the most persistent being rumors of the neighboring kingdoms readying to seize Noir at any moment. But your father never addressed such hearsays, and life within the island always seemed as jovial and peaceful as it always did.

Until one night, as you sat engrossed in some book about Noir folklore, a series of sharp knocks on your chamber doors shattered the stillness, echoing sharply through the room.

It was your father, the king. Dropped to his knees, grasping your untainted hands in his rough, weathered ones, head bowed down at your mercy.

“Forgive me, my daughter,” he said in grief. “For the sake of the people—please, forgive me.”

For months, naval scouts had reported sightings of warships at the docks of two neighboring kingdoms, suspected of plotting to raid Noir and usurp the throne. Only a few weeks ago, those suspicions were confirmed when spies returned with dire news. The enemy militaries, vast and far stronger than your own, were preparing for a siege. Noir's true power had always been in the arts and commerce, not in its military might. Should your shores be attacked by an enemy nation—let alone two—the island would fall.

So on the very day the confirmation arrived, your father and the high court conspired to seek assistance from a nation on the mainland: Onichynus.

Conversations about the state were always hushed, spoken in whispers and laden with caution. It was rumored to be an immensely powerful dominion, even surpassing that of the hostile forces looming beyond your shores. Drunk sailors boasted of its staggering wealth, built on the spoils of their wars and ceaseless conquest. With an unmatched army of hardened warriors and mercenaries, it stood as a force to be reckoned with, its presence both feared and revered across the seas.

At its pinnacle stood their elusive general, a shadow whose name and true face remained unknown. Tales from sailors, traveling merchants, and tavern songs painted him as a ruthless figure, demon-like, who laid waste to rotten cities and beheaded corrupt kings. Some claimed he was a hero, purging the realm of wicked men in power, while others saw him as the embodiment of evil, leaving destruction and death in his wake.

Negotiations with Onichynus were a success. In return for their protection during the impending siege, Noir pledged to deliver three ships laden with its most prized metals, minerals, and gems—every year for the next century.

But to ensure Noir upheld its end of the bargain, their beloved princess would be bound in marriage to the general.

You could only keep your gaze steady, chin held high, as the king knelt before you, weeping, begging for your forgiveness.

You had your time to relish the pleasures of living as a princess. Now, it was time to fulfill your duties as one.

—

The night before the long-anticipated siege had arrived. After weeks of frantic planning and tense negotiations between Noir’s high court and the Onichynus war council, warriors and mercenaries had taken their positions across the island. Some blended seamlessly with the civilians, while the majority remained hidden in plain sight, their numbers concentrated along the docks.

In the king’s throne room, select members from both factions gathered for final preparations. Clad in his battle regalia, your father seemed a shadow of his former self—skin ashened, eyes hollow with exhaustion—yet his voice remained firm as he issued his commands to all present.

The Noir court members could hardly conceal their unease under the watchful eyes of the Onichynus war council. Towering and broad-shouldered, they seemed almost otherworldly. Their dark, burnished steel armor bore engravings of monstrous creatures, and many donned cloaks of crimson or black, their edges deliberately singed to resemble fire's touch. Helmets, adorned with jagged horns, cast grotesque shadows, while those who forwent them revealed faces with jagged streaks of war paint, as if to mimic claw marks.

Then, the heavy doors groaned open, spilling thick tendrils of black-red mist into the chamber. A hush fell as all eyes turned toward the towering figure that emerged from the haze.

The general.

For all the whispered tales of his demonic appearance—horns as tall as claymores, wings that spanned the heavens, and a tail that stretched like a river—you were stunned to find a face not of a monster, but of an angel.

Against the backdrop of his dark cloak, his striking silver hair stood out in sharp contrast. His features were sculpted with precision—high, defined cheekbones, a strong jawline, a straight nose, all framed by an expression that revealed little, save for full lips drawn into a tight line. The people of Noir gawked openly, stunned to finally see the man from the tales in the flesh. His gait was languid yet exuded confidence as he strode toward the throne where you sat beside your father.

His gaze found yours, and you stilled.

The deep scarlet of his eyes was piercing. You almost felt naked under it. Instantly, you straightened in your seat, fingers twitching to smooth the fabric of your dress.

“Expect the warships to be visible in six hours,” he said, his voice cutting through the room. The low timbre of it sent a chill racing up your spine.

“General, are you certain our forces are enough to handle their fleet?” your mother asked, voice quivering as she addressed him from your father’s other side.

The general's lips curved faintly, a low, rumbling chuckle escaping him.

“Rest easy, Your Majesty. By dawn, their remains will have joined their forefathers’ ghosts beneath the sea."

—

You had come to realize that Onichynus truly deserved the fear and respect it commanded. Just before daybreak, the gut-wrenching blare of Noir’s watchtower horns finally shattered the unnerving stillness of the island.

The enemies had fallen.

You had been locked away in one of the castle’s tower chambers, away from harm’s reach. As the kingdom’s key to securing this alliance, it was critical that no harm befell the general's betrothed.

After the second wave of victory horns, your door creaked open, revealing your maidservant—frantic, breathless from the long climb up the spiral staircase.

“Your Highness,” she gasped, voice trembling. “We’ve won.”

You could see the restraint in the way her nails dug into her apron, her blown pupils amidst her ragged breaths. She was restraining herself, her elation held in check, out of deference to you.

After all, Noir’s freedom had come at the cost of yours.

With a wistful smile, you turned toward the window, watching the flickering torchlights snake through the streets below. The chorus of jubilant cries and chants carried through the valleys, their voices rising to the heavens and echoing back from the mountain’s deepest crevices.

“It seems we have,” you murmured, voice barely audible over the chorus of celebration below.

You heard her hesitant shuffle behind you. "Several of the servants have been briefed already. They shall be ready tomorrow morning to begin preparations for the wedding."

You spun toward her, pulse pounding in your ears. "So soon?"

She lowered her gaze, unable to meet your eyes. "Onichynus wanted to complete the rites as quickly as possible, so they could sail for the mainland the following day."

You let out a slow exhale. "I see."

Your maidservant hesitated, her eyes flicking toward you, before she spoke again.

"If it offers you any comfort, ma'am," she said softly, head bowed, "you saved all of us."

You swallowed hard, forcing back the sting of tears threatening to spill.

—

Like your mother, grandmother, and all the royal women before you, you had always envisioned your wedding as a day of grandeur. You pictured riding through the town streets in the royal carriage, flanked by guards, waving to the cheering crowds. You imagined wearing a bespoke gown that sparkled in the light, a train so long it would sweep behind you like a royal procession.

You imagined trumpets announcing your arrival, their triumphant notes echoing through a hall packed with dignitaries and nobility from across the realm. And at the altar, a man of honor and equal standing would wait for you, his gaze warm with affection as you joined in a union built on love, not duty.

But now—the sun has nearly set, painting the grand temple in muted amber light. Inside, the space feels hollow, adorned only by a few hurriedly arranged flowers, their disarray a testament to the servants' exhaustion from cleaning up the siege’s destruction. Your gown, though lovely, is no custom-made masterpiece—just a window display piece hastily altered by the royal dressmaker. The pews stand mostly empty, save for your crestfallen family, a handful of somber faces from the Noir high court, and the ever-stoic Onichynus war council.

Your husband-to-be, still clad in his dark battle regalia, stands steadfast at your side, his expression an impenetrable mask as the archbishop intones the ceremonial rites. You had imagined him to be someone hard to look at—perhaps as old as a grandfather, his years as a general etched into every line of his face, and his figure weighed down by indulgent vices. Yet, to your quiet relief, he is nothing of the sort. Even if he proves unsavory as a husband or father to your future children, at least he’s pleasing to look at.

“By the will of fate, you are now bound in union,” the High Priest finally says, raising his palms toward you both. “May your allegiance to one another be as steadfast as the duties you carry, and may this union bring the future of your realms to prosperity.”

—

You wince as an elderly maidservant struggles to loosen a particularly stubborn knot in your hair, the pull jerking your head painfully. She pauses, her hand gently patting the spot in apology.

Your gaze stays fixed on the cold, flatstone floor, and you hardly notice the other maidservants bustling around you. One smooths out the faint creases in your satin nightdress, while another tugs at the neckline, pulling it lower to expose more of your cleavage and collarbone. Beneath the thin fabric, your undergarments have been removed, leaving you vulnerable to the biting chill of the room. You’ve been scrubbed clean, coated in the silkiest lotions, each scent more intoxicating than the last—all for your first night with your new husband.

“Are you nervous, Your Highness?” the elderly maidservant asks, her hands gentle as she brushes through your hair.

You pause, the question settling in your chest as you ponder how to answer.

“I can’t say I’m confident,” you say, twisting your fingers together. “I’ve never been with a man before.”

In the mirror, you catch the discreet glances exchanged behind you, their pity and concern barely hidden. You force yourself to look away, but the weight of their silent judgment lingers.

“The Onichynus general… he seemed like such a massive man,” a younger maidservant whispers, her voice tinged with uncertainty. “I do hope he treats Her Highness with kindness.”

Another maidservant scoffs, her tone sharp with bitterness. “All men are beasts, driven only by their lust for control—and for anything with a pair of breasts.”

There’s a collective hiss of disapproval from the others, but the harsh words still echo in your mind. You fight to keep your face composed, though your heart aches with fear.

“Don’t worry, Your Highness,” the elderly maidservant says, her voice light. “The men from that state may be known for their ruthlessness, but with your likeness, the general will surely find himself a changed man.”

You can only hope the same.

Soon after, you begin your walk to the matrimonial room. The maidservants fall in step around you, their presence a quiet shield.  The lively chatter from your earlier preparations has faded, replaced by a tense, almost somber silence. Despite the considerable distance between rooms, the walk feels too short, each step too swift. Before you can fully gather your bearings, you now find yourself alone, sitting on the bed, the weight of the night settling in around you.

You shouldn’t feel this nervous. Women across the realm are bound to face this, especially those of royal blood. Consummation on the wedding night is an expectation, a duty. No matter how much you’ve dreaded or tried to avoid it, you’ve always known it was inevitable. All that’s left now is to steel yourself, strive to please your husband, and to embrace your role as a future mother—for Noir’s sake.

The doors swing open, and you flinch. The general steps inside, his damp hair clinging to his face, a clear sign of a recent bath. His attire for the evening is simple: loose trousers and a tunic that, despite its modesty, does little to hide the breadth of his shoulders or the strong lines of his chest. Your gaze betrays you, lingering longer than it should, tracing the way the fabric shifts with his movements. His towering height seems to diminish even the vast expanse of the room, making the high ceilings feel incredibly small.

His ember-like eyes catch yours and you suddenly feel too exposed.

“Good evening, princess.” 

“General,” you greet, wincing at how weak it sounds as it leaves your lips.

His gaze sweeps over you, lingering on the curve of your shoulders beneath the delicate straps of your ivory nightdress, the soft swell of your breasts pressing gently against the neckline. The fabric cinches at your waist before flaring out around your hips, emphasized by the way you sit at the edge of the mattress. Your posture is rigid, hands clasped in your lap—a result of all the etiquette drilled into you from childhood.

He notices the tension in your form and lets out a sigh, turning toward the couch at the far end of the room.

You blink.

“Where are you going?” you blurt out, brows furrowed in confusion.

“Your Highness,” he drawls, settling into the couch with a lazy grace. “We don’t have to do this. You look like a kitten with her hackles raised. We could ruffle the bedding, spill some oil on the sheets, and pretend we had a night worthy of the chamberlain’s inspection.”

A flash of panic rises within you. You stand, words tumbling out in a rush. “Nonsense! Marriage is not recognized before the temple unless consummated on the night of the ceremony.”

He tilts his head, a faint smirk playing at the corners of his lips. “Such peculiar customs you have here on Noir.”

You had imagined a thousand ways this night could go, a thousand versions of the man you’d just married. Not one of them prepared you for this.

You flush, frustration building in your chest. “General, I would appreciate it if you respect the customs of Noir. We are a proud people, and we honor the traditions passed down to us by our forefathers.”

He rolls his eyes. Then, with a slow, deliberate pace, he stands and makes his way toward you. For every step he takes, you fight the instinct to hunch your shoulders, to shrink away. Next thing you know, he’s standing before you, his imposing size forcing you to tilt your head back to maintain your gaze.

“You’re shaking,” he murmurs, gently cupping your face. The heat of his touch burns through your skin, sending a shiver down your spine.

You finally avert your eyes. “I’ve never been with a man before,” you manage to say with as much indifference as you can muster, nails digging into your palms.

“Really? Not even a stolen kiss in your youth?”

You clench your teeth. “There are far more pressing matters to focus on than indulging in childish flirtations.”

He laughs, a rich, deep sound that resonates through the air, stirring an unexpected warmth low in your belly.

“Alright,” he concedes, his finger tracing a slow path along your cheek. Without warning, he grips your jaw, the touch both commanding and tender, pulling your gaze back to meet his. “But if we’re doing this, we’re doing it my way. None of those absurd rules from your royal handbook.”

You pull back slightly, brows knitting in confusion. “The act is the same, is it not?”

“Do you agree, Your Highness?” he presses, lips grazing your ear ever so slightly. The warmth of his breath against your skin is unfamiliar, and the rush of heat that sweeps up your neck sends electrifying pulses deep within your core.

“Yes,” you grit out.

After studying your expression one last time, he lowers himself slightly, then grips the back of your thighs and lifts you with ease. You gasp, scrambling to find your balance. Your arms instinctively wrap around his neck, fingers digging into the firm, broad muscles of his shoulders. With a smooth shift, he adjusts your position, the inside of your thighs pressing against his hips, before carrying you to the vanity desk at the center of the room.

You struggle to speak, words caught in your throat as the sensation of being so high up in the air makes you dizzy. He finally sets you down on the desk, his large palms slowly dragging down your legs, gently pushing your knees apart.

“G—General,” you stammer, eyes wide as he pulls his tunic over his head, revealing a tanned expanse of skin and the hard, defined muscles beneath. “The bed is over there—why are we here?”

A flicker of a smile plays at his lips as he tosses the fabric carelessly to the floor. “Trust me, princess. Now close your eyes.”

You want to argue, remind him that asking you to trust the most notorious figure in the realm—whom you’ve barely known for a day—is no small request. But the gravity in his scarlet gaze quiets any protest. With a reluctant breath, you close your eyes.

There’s no movement at first. Then, his calloused palms find your knees, the rough calluses a stark contrast against the smooth stretch of your skin. Heat blossoms under his touch, searing its way upward as his hands glide along the curve of your hips, the taper of your waist. You fail to suppress the shudder coursing through you when his touch pauses just below the swell of your breasts, lingering for a heartbeat before sliding to your sides, his broad palms more than spanning the width of your back.

Then, you feel the faint brush of his breath against your mouth, a fleeting warmth before his lips capture yours in a tender kiss. The hot, wet sensation has your back arching instinctively, your hardened nipples pressing through the thin fabric of your nightgown against his hard chest. A deep, throbbing ache pulses at your core, and you clamp your thighs together in a futile effort to suppress the damp heat pooling between them.

The overwhelming rush of sensations draws a whimper from your lips, your trembling hands clutching at his shoulders for stability. His response is immediate—a low, guttural groan before he deepens the kiss, his mouth returning to yours with even more fervor.

You’ve read about kissing in your sparse collection of romance novels, tried to envision the mechanics behind the act. But the mental images always fell short, awkward and unappealing, leaving you unconvinced of its charm. You’d dismissed it as unnecessary, even pointless—especially when it came to something as pragmatic and straightforward as sex.

But now the general is sneaking in the hot, wet glide of his tongue between your lips and you panic, not sure what it is he’s doing and what you’re supposed to do. He must sense your uncertainty, because his large hand moves to steady your jaw and nape, holding you in place. When he feels the accidental brush of your tongue, he wastes no time and sucks at it, the lewd sound echoing in your ears, forcing soft, strangled sounds from your throat.

You no longer feel the seeping chill from outside the castle walls, body now feeling like it’s on fire, the wetness dripping from your entrance sliding down your inner thighs. You feel like you’re drunk and about to pass out, so you push his chest back with a gentle palm.

“General,” you say, heaving through swollen lips. “What… what are we doing? The bed…”

He takes a moment to steady his breath, eyes squeezed shut, palms pressing firmly at your waist. Then, a low, rough chuckle rumbles from his chest.

“You’re infuriatingly naive,” he mutters, his sweat-damp forehead resting against your shoulder. “You must be the only woman of all arranged marriages eager to crawl into bed with a man she barely knows.”

You flush, indignant at the implication behind his words. “What are you trying to say?” you demand, mouth unconsciously forming into a pout.

He pulls back just enough to meet your gaze, his thumb brushing gently over your lower lip. “What I’m saying, princess, is let me take care of you. I don’t know what your upbringing has taught you, but there’s more to this than just... getting it over with.”

You’re not used to being told what to do and deviating from the rules, so you force out a sharp “fine”—an unintended display of bratty defiance, considering the man before you. But he only laughs, and to your dismay, the sound makes him even more handsome than he already is.

“Hold on,” he murmurs, lifting you by your bottom this time, pressing you flush against his chest. His hands on your backside—so close to where you’re throbbing and wet—has you flinching forward. You suddenly feel the brush of something firm against the sensitive nub above your slit, and you jerk again in surprise.

He chuckles, before gently lowering you onto the soft expanse of the mattress. His lips find your collarbone first, then trail down to your nipples, where he suckles through the fabric. A soft whimper escapes you, your fingers curling into the sheets. You can feel his smile against your skin as his tongue sweeps over one of your sensitive buds, before continuing its journey down toward your abdomen.

But then he hovers his face above your groin that’s barely concealed by the bunched-up hem of your nightgown. Alarm jolts through you, and you prop yourself up on your elbows, torso rising instinctively. You attempt to close your legs, but his hands hold them firmly apart. 

“General—”

“Sylus,” he interrupts, lips brushing along the inside of your knee. “We’re married now, sweetheart. Use my name.”

A twisted sense of pride coils within you, knowing you hold both the name and face of the most infamous man in the realm.

You hesitate, swallowing the lump in your throat before continuing. “Sylus,” you echo, the name oddly satisfying on your lips. “Not that I’m… doubting your expertise, but is all of this really necessary?”

He exhales heavily, saying nothing at first. Then, he takes your hand—its size utterly lost in his grip—and guides it down your body. His movements are deliberate, stopping only when your palm meets the undeniable hardness of his cock, straining against his trousers.

You struggle to contain the jumbled stutters tumbling from your lips. “What are you—”

“I’m a big man,” he states matter-of-factly, his gaze unwavering. “And this is your first time. As you are now—you won’t be able to handle me.”

You don’t fully understand what he means, but the statement silences you nonetheless.

He chuckles, letting go of your hand, and you immediately pull it back to your chest. “May I?” he asks, his voice low as he hovers below you once again.

You flash a glare, before nodding reluctantly.

A smirk tugs at his lips as he leans back, his gaze shifting downward to the space between your legs. Slowly, he lifts the hem of your dress, inch by inch, until the cool air brushes against your exposed skin. You watch, eyes heavy, fighting the tremors rushing through you, as his hand moves along the inside of your thigh. When his fingers brush against your folds, a sharp exhale escapes you, and your head falls back onto the mattress.

“You’re so sensitive, princess,” he murmurs, amusement lacing his words.

“Shut up and get on with it,” you snap, covering your eyes with your forearm.

You hear a quiet laugh escape him before two fingers press against the sensitive nub above your folds, sending a shock of pleasure through your body. Your back arches instinctively as he slides his fingers up and down against your entrance. The motion, slick and sinful, leaves you gasping, and you struggle to keep your legs open, body trembling from the unfamiliar pleasure.

Sylus’ eyes darken, flicking between the way his fingers tease your slick folds and the way your breasts strain against your dress. His breathing grows heavier as he reaches up, pulling the neckline down to expose your chest. A soft whine escapes you when his hand cups one swell, firm yet gentle, while the other continues its relentless ministrations below.

“I’m pressing one in, alright?” he murmurs.

You barely register the words before he pushes a thick finger past your folds.

“Wait—it feels—ngh—it’s strange,” you stammer, voice hitching on a whine.

He stills immediately, digit only halfway in. “Does it hurt?”

“I… kind of? I don’t know…”

You’re panting. The pressure is peculiar, and quite unpleasant. Your body tenses at the newness of it, the unfamiliar stretch bordering on discomfort.

He remains patient, finger unmoving. Then, you feel his thumb press on your nub, drawing gentle circles against the sensitive lower hood of it. The obscene sound of slickness fills the space and you’re mortified, toes curling at the wave of arousal soaking his hand.

“This better?” he whispers, drinking in every detail—your heaving chest, the sheen of sweat on your skin, the tremor in your thighs, and the glistening mess pooling between them.

You can’t respond, overwhelmed by the spiraling pleasure.

A chuckle rumbles from him, low and pleased, as he presses the rest of his finger inside. This time, it slides in smoothly, and the high-pitched moan that escapes you is muffled by your trembling palm. Now knuckle-deep, he gently strokes upward, pressing on a rough spot that makes you jerk in his hold.

“I’m going to try something, alright?” he says softly, breath brushing against your knee as he plants a tender kiss.

“Okay,” you croak, struggling to process the pulsing sensations building deep inside you.

The circles on your nub stop, and you almost whimper at the loss. But before you can voice your complaints, something warm, wet, and utterly foreign replaces his thumb. Your head snaps back, a raw, choked cry tearing from your lips.

“General—hah—Sylus… What are you—?”

He doesn’t answer. Dazed, you prop yourself up and the sight before you is almost too much: the most powerful man in the realm, kneeling between your legs, his mouth worshiping you with unrelenting fervor. His tongue laps at your folds, drags it languidly up to your engorged nub before closing his lips around it, sucking in a way that sends sharp, electric pulses straight through your core.

Panicked by the unbearable pressure building inside, you try to push his head away. “Stop—it’s strange, I feel like I’m going to—”

Before you can finish, he slides another finger inside, stretching you further. His fingers curl, stroking that spongy spot with unrelenting precision. His mouth works in tandem, alternating between suckling and lapping at your overstimulated nub.

Tears blur your vision as the intensity peaks. You scream into your palms, hips bucking against his mouth and hand as you feel yourself tip over the high he brought you to.

Sylus watches, entranced, as your legs open wider, cries muffled as your body convulses under his ministrations. Even as you shatter under him, he doesn’t let up, prolonging your fall at his mercy. And when you’re finally sent over the edge, your release flooding his eager mouth, he drinks in the sight of you—flushed, trembling, and utterly spent.

He presses his cheek against your inner thigh, feeling the delicate tremors rippling through your body as you struggle to steady your breathing. His eyes trail over your folds, soft and swollen, slightly parted as your essence continues to glisten and drip. Unable to hold back, he dips his head and presses a slow, deliberate kiss, groaning as your intoxicating taste lingers on his lips.

Your cry pierces the air, hands flying to his hair as you tug with desperation. “W—Wait…! I can’t… it’s too much… please…”

He only chuckles, low and teasing, before placing a final kiss on the sensitive nub above your folds. Then, he moves upward, settling his weight against you. His chin rests between your breasts, arms locking yours in place as his eyes meet yours, heat and satisfaction dancing in his gaze.

As clarity slowly returns, the enormity of what just happened hits you. He—the Onichynus general, a man who strikes fear in nations across the realm—had just laved at your most intimate area with his tongue. Such an act is nowhere to be found in the guides you’ve read on sex, not even as a distant suggestion. And yet, you enjoyed it. Far more than you care to admit.

An embarrassed huff escapes you as heat blooms across your face. You throw your hands up to cover it, unwilling to meet the insufferable smugness you can practically feel radiating from him below.

Suddenly, you feel the neckline of your dress being tugged down again, catching beneath your breasts. Then, you feel the flat of his tongue gently press on a nipple, circling it with the tip before pulling it into his mouth to suckle. His hand slides up to your other bud, palm brushing over it in slow, deliberate motions. Breasts are meant to nourish, to sustain future generations—mere vessels for the creation of life. Yet the hairs at the back of your neck raise on end as you feel the return of the persistent pulsing deep within you. You bite your lip, stifling the sounds threatening to escape, back arching as you desperately chase the sensation of his mouth on you.

“We can stop now if you wish, Your Highness,” he murmurs against your skin.

Fighting the heaviness taking over your body, you grab his jaw, forcing him to meet the fire in your gaze. “Do you have a problem with consummating with me, general?”

He responds with a particularly sharp suck at your nipple.

“Ngh—! Sylus! I meant Sylus!” you cry out, correcting yourself with a gasp.

He smiles, a mischievous glint in his eyes, before moving to the soft curve of your breast. His mouth alternates between harsh sucking and teasing bites, leaving a trail of bruised blooms in his wake.

“While intercourse may be a mere formality to you Noir people, in Onichynus, it’s an act of passion and love,” he says, voice low as he shifts to giving attention to your other bud. “I wish to ensure that Her Highness, my wife, has a memorable first experience. So, if you feel spent for the night, we can always stop. At any time.”

His words settle deep inside you and you feel warmth spread in your chest. Perhaps Onichynus is more than the tales of its ruthless reputation, after all. Hesitantly, you caress his cheek, heart aching at the way he closes his eyes and nuzzles into your palm. He almost seems like a clingy pet feline.

“I appreciate the sentiment, but I want to finish the rites,” you say softly. Then, you flush, struggling to find the right words. “And, um, I didn’t expect things to be this… good. I don’t mind experiencing more, if it’s alright with you.”

It takes a moment for your words to register, and when they do, Sylus smirks—a slow, predatory curl of his lips that sends heat coursing through your body. He leans in, capturing your lips in a searing kiss. His tongue brushes your bottom lip, and this time, you grant him easy access. You mimic what he did to you earlier, tentatively wrapping your lips around his tongue and sucking gently.

Immediately, a low, visceral groan escapes him as his hips press forward, grinding his restrained arousal against your soaked folds. The rough fabric of his trousers drags against your sensitive nub, sending jolts of pleasure rippling through you. You whine into his mouth, arms winding around his neck as you pull him impossibly closer.

Sylus seems barely in control now, his breath coming in harsh gasps as he adjusts his movements, angling his hips so that the ridge where his shaft meets the head rubs directly against your overstimulated nub.

Without warning, he breaks the kiss, leaving you on the verge of a whine as a string of spit bridges the space between you. He steps back, tugging his trousers down in one swift motion. Your gaze drops instinctively, and your breath catches at the sight of him.

Broad shoulders taper into a lean waist, and every inch of his sculpted body radiates strength. But it’s the thick, throbbing length between his legs that holds your attention. He notices the starstruck look on your gaze and he chuckles, walking closer to you until you're face level with it. Taking your hand, he gently wraps it around his girth. The sheer thickness overwhelms your grip, and your breath catches at the realization.

“Feel free to take a look,” he rasps.

You’ve never seen a cock before, but instinctively, you know this one is massive. The shaft is thick,  with prominent veins that seem to throb faintly, and the soft, rounded shapes below it look heavy and full. The bulbous, mushroom-shaped tip is flushed, beads of some kind of white, translucent fluid glistening at the slit. For some reason, you feel the urge to lean in and taste it.

Sylus takes your hand, shaping it into a loose 'O.' “This is you,” he murmurs, guiding your fingers to glide along his length, spreading the slick fluid. “And this…” He pushes through the circle you’ve made, the thick head sliding in and out. “…is how it’ll feel when I’m inside you.”

Slowly, he begins to move, sliding his shaft through your grip. The sensation is intoxicating, and you’re mesmerized by the sight of him—his cock pumping in and out of your hand, each stroke leaving it sticky with his arousal. You don’t even realize your lips are parting until you lean forward, your tongue darting out to flick against the leaking tip.

Sylus lets out a guttural moan, one hand tangling in your hair as his hips jerk involuntarily. His taste—salty and slightly bitter—is heady, and the heat of him against your tongue heightens your arousal. He bucks into your mouth, and though you gag slightly, you fight to take more of him, desperate for the connection.

You feel too empty.

“Princess—fuck—this is torture,” he groans, his deep voice rough with restraint.

You can only moan in response, lips stretched around his cock as he begins thrusting into your mouth. His large hands steady your head, guiding your movements. You peek up at him through fluttering lashes, and you feel your folds quiver at the sinful sight of the Onichynus general panting, eyes shut, sweat-covered muscles taut as he pistons in and out of you.

You are Noir’s beloved princess—revered and envied for your beauty, grace, and intellect—yet now you’re barely coherent, delirious over the addictive taste of your husband as he fucks your mouth over and over.

One particularly deep thrust hits the back of your throat and you gag, tears springing to your eyes. Sylus curses under his breath and withdraws immediately.

“Princess, I’m sorry,” he pants, taking in the sight of you—tears streaking your cheeks, saliva glistening on your lips, thighs pressed together in a futile attempt to relieve your ache.

“It’s okay,” you croak, voice hoarse and small.

Sylus pauses, taking a moment to steady himself and pull back from the frenzy consuming him, before climbing onto the bed, positioning himself against the headboard. His hands grip your waist, lifting you effortlessly to straddle his lap. Movements frantic and barely restrained, he aligns your slick folds against the length of his shaft. His lips find yours again, urgent and demanding, while his hands grip your hips, guiding you to rock against him. The friction against your sensitive nub draws a cry from you, and he groans into your mouth.

“Let me have you, princess,” he practically begs against your lips between heavy breaths.

You barely have time to process his words before he lifts you slightly, the broad head of his cock pressing insistently against your entrance. Then, you feel an immediate, sharp stretch as he breaches your folds, pushing deeper until the full length of him fills you to the hilt.

A strangled cry escapes you and you collapse against his chest, burying your face in his neck with stilted sobs. Sylus remains still, large hands massaging your rear soothingly, coaxing your body to adjust.

“You’re doing so well, sweetheart,” he whispers, lips brushing against your temple. “Just breathe. Let me in.”

“It hurts,” you gasp. He shifts slightly, and a sharp sensation makes you wince, like he’s hitting a spot that feels too far, too much. “T—Too big…”

“I know, I know,” he murmurs, breath hot and uneven against your ear. His hands move carefully, gently parting the delicate skin of your folds in an attempt to ease the stretch and make it more bearable.

Keeping his hips as still as possible, he reaches for the hem of your now sweat-soaked nightgown, lifting it with as much gentleness as he can muster. His eyes trace the path of the fabric as it reveals the slick mess of fluids dripping from where you're joined, the soft curve of your belly, the delicate bounce of your breasts freed from constraint, and finally, your tear-streaked face—beautiful, vulnerable, and utterly his. Guilt flickers through him as he feels himself twitch and grow even harder inside you, despite your pained whimpers.

After tossing the fabric aside, his lips find your neck, pressing slow, deliberate kisses to the spots that make your walls flutter around him, drawing soft, helpless sounds from your lips. 

“Once you’re settled in our home on the mainland, you’ll have everything you could ever desire,” he murmurs, hands gliding up to rub gentle circles over your hardened nipples.

“You’ll have servants at your beck and call, and you’ll be free to do whatever you please. No one will dare defy you—no one will even think to.”

The vivid imagery of his words wraps around your mind like a spell, pulling you deeper into him. The sharp discomfort of being stretched begins to ebb, replaced by a dull ache that shifts to faint blooms of pleasure.

“And when you finally swell with my child,” he breathes, tone thick with promise, “I’ll find endless delight in claiming you over and over, until the first light of dawn touches us.”

You flush at the picture of him taking you like this, with your belly round and full with his heir.

He chuckles low against your ear, the sound dark and rich. “Oh? You like that idea, don’t you?”

You huff, landing a light smack on his chest. “Do not tease me,” you protest, voice carrying a hint of authority despite your half-lidded gaze. The sight of you perched on his lap, his cock buried deep inside you, while you fix him with a stern, regal expression befitting a princess is enough to have his hips bucking up to you.

With a strained groan, he crashes his lips against your neck, his cock throbbing almost painfully within your tight walls. “I need you, princess,” he rasps against your skin, barely holding back the urge to thrust up into you.

The pressure of the stretch still lingers, but the sharp pain has melted into pulses of pleasure. You place your hips back, grinding your sensitive nub against his groin, desperate for more. “Please do something,” you plead, hips moving in frantic, clumsy circles, chasing a bliss you don’t know you’re craving.

Sylus doesn’t hesitate. He lowers you back onto the mattress while still buried deep inside you. Propping himself up on his elbows, his gaze locks onto yours as he slowly draws his hips back, leaving only the tip nestled at your entrance. Then, in a single, fluid motion, he sinks back in to the hilt, filling you completely in one long, unrelenting stroke.

You cry out, this time in response to the delicious friction of his cock dragging against your walls. Driven wild by your reaction, he pulls back again, then thrusts deeply into you with another slow, deliberate plunge. A hiss escapes him as the head of his cock presses against your deepest depths.

“You’re doing so good,” he groans, lips brushing over the bruises left by his earlier kisses on your neck. “You’ve been such a darling for me, haven’t you?”

To his twisted delight, you remain incomprehensible, helpless sounds pouring from your kiss-bitten lips as you scramble to steady yourself by gripping his shoulders, nails digging painfully into his skin. He’s almost feral at the way your flesh ripples from the impact of each thrust. The princess of Noir, coveted by men all over the realm, now lies beneath him, sweat-slicked, legs spread, and taking his cock so wonderfully.  But beyond that, he sees the most perfect queen—one whose unparalleled intellect and sharp wit can stand beside him in his pursuit for power.

Suddenly, he pulls out, and you whine, tears staining your cheeks at the dizzying emptiness. He merely shushes you soothingly before gently turning you over onto your stomach. Before you can garble out a question on what he’s doing, he plunges into you once more, hitting a spot against your front that has you curling your toes and screaming into the sheets.

“I—It feels s—strange again—!” you manage between broken whimpers, each word punctuated by the relentless rhythm of his movements against your sore walls.

“Wanna feel good again, princess?” he murmurs against your ear.

Your answering sob is all the reply you can muster.

Suddenly, you’re hoisted up on your knees, his strong arm wrapping around your waist as his other hand grips your jaw, holding your face up. His thrusts quicken, erratic and desperate, and you gasp as his tongue traces the outer shell of your ear. Then, his hand slides lower, fingers finding the swollen nub above your abused folds. The sudden burst of pleasure at the rubbing motion has you crying out, body tightening as a familiar heat coils low in your belly.

You begin to thrash in his hold at the overwhelming sensations. “Sy—I think—I think I’m—”

“Let it happen, princess, I got you.”

With those words, your hands tangle in his sweat-damp hair as a violent shudder wracks your body, exhausted sobs escaping your lips. His relentless pace doesn’t falter, eyes locked on the harsh bounce of your breasts as he pounds into you from behind, chasing his release. The tight grip of your walls and the slick heat enveloping his cock finally push him over the edge, his thrusts turning shallow and frantic before burying himself deep with a final, forceful motion, spilling his seed inside you.

Sylus takes a moment to catch his breath, pressing soft, chaste kisses along your shoulders.

“You alright, princess?”

You don’t respond.

Confused, he gently tilts your head back, only to find your peaceful, sleeping face, soft snores escaping your lips. He huffs a small laugh. How adorable.

Carefully, he shifts against the headboard, settling you onto him with his half-hard cock still nestled inside, twitching faintly. Draping your legs over his knees, he starts massaging your inner thighs, soothing the soreness he knows must be there.

A series of sharp knocks echoes through the room.

“This is the chamberlain. I must confirm that the consummation rites have been fulfilled for your marriage to be deemed legitimate by the Grand Temple.”

Sylus scowls, eyes scanning over your sleeping form. “Can’t this wait in the morning?”

“This is necessary to eliminate any possibility of deceit in performing the rites.”

“Damn uptights,” he mutters. Then, a smirk plays at the corner of his lips. “Well, come in then.”

The door swings open, revealing the old chamberlain in his faded temple robes, his attention fixed on his ledger. He mumbles the schedule for the following day as he approaches the bed. When he finally looks up, expecting to see the usual ruffled, soaked sheets, he freezes, almost stumbling backward in shock.

You—the cherished Noir princess, known for your beauty and headstrong grace—lie exhausted, nestled against the imposing form of the feared Onichynus general behind you. His scarlet eyes glint as he sucks a mark onto the side of your neck, and beneath you, his impressive girth disappears into your swollen, intimate folds, generous amounts of your combined essences coating his base.

“This is evidence enough, no?” Sylus taunts, sneaking in a shallow thrust up to you, drawing a soft, breathless whine from your throat.

The chamberlain stammers, his words fumbling as he backs toward the door.

“Y—Yes, the rites are confirmed. Good night,” he rushes out in a single breath before slamming the door behind him.

Chuckling, Sylus pulls his sleeping wife closer, placing a tender kiss on your temple. You’ll need the rest for the long journey ahead, and for whatever adjustments await you back on the mainland.

But, in the end, none of that matters.

He’s just grateful to have found his beloved kitten again.

check out my other works!

TOKYO REVENGERS

SERIES

little dark age (haitani ran & haitani rindou) — ongoing

born to die (bonten) — ongoing, sporadic updates til LDA finishes

happiest year (mitsuya takashi) — completed

sengoku jidai (sanzu haruchiyo) — on hold, possibly discontinued i haven’t decided

ONE-SHOTS

haitani ran

cheap little whore (ft. haitani rindou & sanzu haruchiyo)

friends

high enough

life lessons with the haitanis (ft. haitani rindou & sanzu haruchiyo)

lovegame! (ft. haitani rindou)

pavlov’s dogs

relax! he won’t find out (ft. sanzu haruchiyo)

r u mine ?

the night we met

what doesn’t kill me makes me want you more (ft. haitani rindou)

haitani rindou

cheap little whore (ft. haitani ran & sanzu haruchiyo)

don’t be so possessive, rindou !

life lessons with the haitanis (ft. haitani ran & sanzu haruchiyo)

lovegame! (ft. haitani ran)

showtime!

what doesn’t kill me makes me want you more (ft. haitani ran)

hanma shuji

motion sickness

oops ! wrong number (ft. ryuguji ken)

imaushi wakasa

sorry bout that

kokonoi hajime

as the world caves in

kurokawa izana

desire

matsuno chifuyu

i wanna be yours

the hand that feeds (ft. mitsuya takashi)

mitsuya takashi

the hand that feeds (ft. matsuno chifuyu)

ryuguji ken

can’t help falling in love

oops ! wrong number (ft. hanma shuji)

sanzu haruchiyo

all eyes on you

cheap little whore (ft. haitani brothers)

cloud 9

heaven

life lessons with the haitanis (ft. haitani brothers)

new magic wand

relax! he won’t find out (ft. haitani ran)

somewhere only we know

space song

the closest to heaven

this side of paradise

you get me so high

HEADCANONS 

drunk n nasty with the haitani brothers

gettin needy w the bonten boys

thinkin ab heartbreak ft. haitani brothers & sanzu haruchiyo

late night thoughts ft bonten trio

late night thoughts ft haitani brothers & sanzu haruchiyo (bimbo edition!)

late night thoughts ft mitsuya takashi

late night thoughts ft kokonoi hajime

mitsuya takashi x college student!reader

sanzu haruchiyo x college student!reader

DRABBLES

hanma shuji

just try to stay quiet, okay?

haitani ran

i’m not fuckin jealous, it’s just that you’re mine + we stopped being friends around twenty fucks ago

3:19 AM

untitled

kawata nahoya

untitled

ryuguji ken

untitled

sanzu haruchiyo

how the fuck did you manage to cover me in this many hickies?

untitled

12:17 PM

1:14 PM

7:36 PM

nekomii's toji masterlist

୨୧˚office worker toji x stray puppy girl reader ˚୨୧

part 1 part 2 part 3

office worker toji x stray puppy girl reader bonus tidbits

coming home to his puppy girl coming home to his puppy girl late at night helping his puppy girl through her first heat with him! (nsfw 18+) flip phone for his puppy girl

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚farmer toji x cow girl reader˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆

coming soon <3

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚toji rambles˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆

wolfdog toji

updated 25/03/2025

thinking ab bf kiyoomi who has a hair tie of urs on his wrist & will tie up ur hair 4 u when u eat

bf kiyoomi who reverses the car w one hand and rests the other arm on your shoulders, his middle finger idly tracing your shoulder blades

bf kiyoomi who hates seeing you sad , and immediately knows when you are, bending to meet your eyes and whispering ,” what’s up ?” with the most tender look in his eyes

bf kiyoomi who pretends to be stoic with his friends, but when you meet up with them one day they can’t help but gawk at their 6’4 scary dog buddy giggling at you

bf kiyoomi who loves how small you are compared to him because he wants you to feel safe

bf kiyoomi who gets mad butterflies when you show him attitude and hand his sarcasm back to him

bf kiyoomi who adores when you give him butterfly kisses on his neck

bf kiyoomi who has deep, sweet dimples that no one but you has seen. he tries to cover his mouth when he laughs, but when you told him you loved it, he never did it again

bf kiyoomi who keeps a copy of you birth certificate, passport , id, diploma, anything, because ‘i cant trust you to keep it now can i?’

bf kiyoomi who feels heat rise to his cheeks and his vision get hazy when you hold his hands and brush your lips against his knuckles

bf kiyoomi who cries at your wedding because ‘ no one ever had the patience to put up with my uh,, particular habits. ‘

bf kiyoomi who appreciates your patience and love for him- showing it in the most endearing ways

bf kiyoomi <333333

⟢ ﹒ an a/b/o + hybrid-centric collab ! ❝ welcome to aki’s first milestone + bday collab <3 lemme take you to the world of heats, knots, and everything in between !! ❞

⟢ ﹒ status. ongoing

╭ this collab contains nsfw, dark, and ┆ potentially triggering content below the cut ╰ ➤ minors do not interact, 18+ only ♡

꒰ RULES ꒱

⟢ ﹒ fyi, this is a dark content friendly collab <3

⟢ ﹒ comment / send an ask to join ; make sure to include your fandom + character/s + trope (e.g., jjk + alpha! gojo x omega! reader, wind breaker + bull! togame, haikyuu + iwa x bunny! reader) ; characters should be 18+ or aged up !

⟢ ﹒ create as many pieces as you want but characters can only repeat up to 2x

⟢ ﹒ you must be 18+ to join and you must have your age in your bio or your pinned (e.g., actual age, adult, 20s, etc.)

⟢ ﹒ sfw, nsfw, dc written works and artworks are welcome ; everything should be tagged properly ; written works must contain warnings if necessary

⟢ ﹒ no minimum word count ; thirsts, headcanons, drabbles, and full fics are allowed

⟢ ﹒ “soft” deadline is on 07/19 (6:00 PM PST) but early and late submissions are okay !

⟢ ﹒ please include a link back to the masterlist and tag me on your piece so I get notified when you post !

⟢ ﹒ boosts are appreciated !! when you join, please reblog this masterlist once to boost and again when it goes live <3

꒰ FREE ꒱

♥︎ 01. fox! natsuya x reader (@/dabiscarpet)

꒰ GENSHIN ꒱

♥︎ 01. yan! alpha! diluc x omega! reader (@/pavosnoctua)

♥︎ 02. alpha! kaeya x omega! reader (@/ordowrites)

꒰ HAIKYUU ꒱

♥︎ 01. alpha! iwaizumi x omega! reader (@/yubishi)

♥︎ 02. alpha! atsumu x omega! reader (@/tenrichouku)

꒰ HAZBIN HOTEL ꒱

♥︎ 01. alpha! alastor x omega! reader (@/helluvagyal)

꒰ JJK ꒱

♥︎ 01. alpha! toji x omega! f! reader (@/txjis)

♥︎ 02. alpha! naoya x omega! reader (@/uzurimisery)

♥︎ 03. alpha! nanami x omega! reader (@/fyodior)

♥︎ 04. alpha! werewolf! toji x alpha! werewolf! shiu x bunny-hybrid f! reader (@/081231)

♥︎ 05. alpha! gojo x omega! reader (@/goxjo)

꒰ KAIJU NO. 8 ꒱

♥︎ 01. alpha! gen narumi x beta! f! reader (@/goteique)

꒰ TOKYOREV ꒱

♥︎ 01. cat-hybrid! koko x reader x dog-hybrid! inui (@/bad-thxxnks)

♥︎ 02. dragon-hybrid! draken x human! reader (@/godtomura)

꒰ WIND BREAKER ꒱

♥︎ 01. alpha! togame x misdiagnosed omega! reader (@/arahdow)

♥︎ 02. alpha! umemiya x bunny-hybrid / omega! f! reader (@/stunie)

♥︎ 03. guard dog! hiragi x human! reader (@/gimme-hiragi)

♥︎ 04. alpha! umemiya x omega! reader x alpha! kaji (@/iwaasfairy)

♥︎ 05. human hunter! tsugeura x deer! reader (@/togamest)

can i request arranged marriage with toji and corruption please 🥰

wedding rings - toji x fem!reader (5k)

the zenin clan just can't stop meddling in toji's affairs. what's he supposed to do with the nervous little virgin who shows up on his doorstep and says that her family and his have said they have to get married? not fuck her?

warnings: not sfw/minors dni. arranged marriage. corruption kink. virgin reader. light cunnilingus, fingering, coming inside. light dub-con by nature of 'arranged marriage'. afab reader, fem pronouns.

[a/n: writing toji is always so much fun ;_; ]

When you showed up at Toji’s door with suitcase in hand, trembling lip and eyes all wide and frightened, he had laughed outright.

It was just like the fucking Zenin clan to be meddling in his life even now, wasn’t it? Even though Toji has abandoned them and slaughtered their ilk, their bullshit about bloodlines still leaks into every facet of what they do; and clearly the idea that Toji, even with his flawed lack of cursed energy, might be able to pass on the technique and hasn’t got a pretty little wife to impregnate yet had rankled them so badly that they’d sorted the whole situation out for him.

If he didn’t hate jujutsu society so much, he’d almost feel bad for you.

You’re clearly in the bloom of life; fresh-faced and innocent, not expecting to find yourself in Toji’s messy shithole of an apartment (why bother making it nice, when he spends so long out of it for work?). He wonders who you’ve pissed off to end up here.

As it turns out, you end up telling him yourself, a frown on your face.

Turns out, you’re . . . not quite just like him, but you’ve been fucked over by your clan just as much for not being able to be useful. You can see cursed spirits, but you’ve got no cursed energy, no technique – despite your clan usually producing good, dutiful, powerful wives. Disappointment of the family. He can understand what that feels like.

So they were probably glad to get rid of you. Might even hope you’ll bear Toji’s kid and it’ll have no technique to speak of itself, too – so both families can forget about you.

(Well, Toji thinks to himself with a grin – his family can’t forget about him, much as they want to, considering both his nickname and his line of work.)

He takes a sip of the glass of water he’s holding in his hand, green eyes focused very hard on you. You’re not in traditional clothing, like most clan members he knows would be; you’re wearing a pale blue dress that you keep tugging uncomfortably down over your thighs. Toji lets his eyes linger on your thighs, too – he might as well appreciate the view, he supposes.

Your suitcase is full of, as well as a collection of clothes in modest cut and soft, pastel colours, documents. Toji flips through some of them, nose wrinkling at the boring jargon. He does linger on a caveat about if you bear him children, they all have to take the Zenin name, and Toji and you will be ‘compensated handsomely’ for handing over the kid’s education and raising to the clan--

Bullshit.

Toji’s about to crumple them up on the floor and tell you to get the fuck out of his house, when he catches sight of you over the edge of the paper. You’ve drawn yourself in; shoulders tight, pretty mouth pressed into a tight line, eyes shining with a mixture between hope and fear. You look so lost. You look so innocent.

A little curl of heat makes itself known in the very base of Toji’s stomach; the thought of you being a good little wife, on your knees. The thought of him telling you exactly how to suck his cock.

He knows how the sorcerer clans raise women like you.

He knows you’ll be eager to please and obedient, falling over yourself to keep your man happy. He knows, too, that you’ll be pliant and agreeable – and that you’ll be pure as the driven snow. That thought gives him pause.

You’re seductive to him without realising it, in the totally guileless way you act, as if you don’t know that he’s considering how your tits would fill his hands and how tight your precious, untouched cunt would feel around his girth.

If he rejects you, what will your clan do?

You’re as fucked as him. He can see it in the shine of your eyes in his kitchen; you’re afraid he will throw you out, like he was thinking of. Leave you to fend for yourself on the streets of Japan, because there’s no way your family will want you back after even scum like Toji’s rejected you.

Would it be so bad?

He lets himself look at you critically. He takes in the curves, the dips, the contours of your body; the way you’d feel beneath him. Your face, and what it would look like lost in pleasure.

Perhaps it would be pleasant, to have someone to return to after a hit; to have someone warm his bed, curl around him, cook for him and take care of him. Perhaps it would be pleasant to take a pretty little virgin and break her into exactly what he wants in a woman. To teach her how he likes to fuck, how he likes her to act, to condition her until he can crook his finger at her and she’s bending over, presenting herself already slick and needy for his cock to use however he sees fit.

“Alright,” he says, draining the glass. “Sure, sweetheart. We’ll get married.”

Later on that night, he creeps into the spare room. You’re asleep on top of the covers in a cute pyjama set that’s all frills and froth and pale pink; elastic in the shorts digging into the flesh of your thighs, top clinging to the curve of your chest. His cock stirs in his pants looking at you. You’re so . . . innocent. There’s no mark to you; Toji wants to cling to your hips until there are bruises in the shape of his hands, wants to worry love-bites into your neck like a necklace, wants to ruin you until you’re tear-stained and whimpering and arching your hips up for him--

Calloused fingers trail along your skin. You’re so soft. Where Toji is all scars and muscle, your skin is like satin. You moan in your sleep, pretty face furrowing, and Toji wants to see your face creased in pleasure too. Your mouth drops open and he imagines thrusting his cock in it; how pretty and shiny your lips would look wrapped around his shaft, almost too big for you to even take.

“Look at you,” he murmurs, thumb skimming the exposed stomach where your pyjama top has ridden up. “Ripe for the picking, ain’t ya?”

Your eyes twitch. Eyebrows, furrow – and you blink your gaze awake, sticky-slow, to see your fiancee looming over you in the dark.

“What’re you—?” You ask, still sleep-laced, but Toji just makes a soft noise in the back of his throat.

“Just lookin’ at the merchandise, sweetheart,” he murmurs. “Wanna make sure you ain’t damaged, that’s all--”

“I—I’m not!” The cute little burst of outrage is ruined somewhat by the yawn that you have to suppress in the middle of it, but Toji grins.

He didn’t think the Zenins would send you if you weren’t – they wouldn’t want to risk the precious possibility of a kid born with power and technique not really being one of theirs – but it’s nice to hear your mouth confirm what he’s been suspecting and hoping is the truth.

“Aw, baby girl,” he says, keeping his voice low and even, trying to comfort you even as his hand is sliding further up, cupping one of your breasts (his palm brushes your nipple and he feels it harden beneath his touch, stiffening to a peak – he wants to see what you look like under there so badly), “C’mon, it’s fine. I ain’t gonna hurt you--”

“M-Mr Zenin,” you say, and the tremble in your voice is so cute. His cock is straining against the boxer shorts he wore to sleep in. You’re wide awake now; your eyes meeting his. “I—I know, but--”

He’s on the bed. He doesn’t miss how your gaze strays to his veined forearms, where the muscles bulge in his biceps, the carefully sculpted and maintained abdomen and pecs – he sees the swallow in your throat, the way your cute little tongue reaches out to swipe nervously over your lower lip.

Thumb brushes your collarbone and you shudder, your eyes fluttering closed at the sensation. He sees your thighs twitch, squeeze together – he’s willing to bet if he dipped his fingers into your slit right now, he’d pull his digits back out with your slick glimmering on them.

“Just call me Toji.”

“T-Toji—” Your voice pitches, shuddering with arousal that you don’t know how to handle. He’s heard that note in women’s voice before; that desperate ‘I want to be touched, but I know I shouldn’t want it’ wobble. He’s been the cause of it more times than he can count.

“S’okay,” he soothes, his other hand rounding over your hip, his knees nudging your legs apart. “You’re savin’ yourself for marriage, yeah? We’ll get the papers signed in the mornin’, I promise, botha our families are the kind to make sure things can be rushed through quick--”

“I—” You’re a little breathless, all needy and hot under his touch. It’s adorable. “I shouldn’t, please, it’s only a few days--”

“You want to.” It’s not a question. It’s a statement, as he curls his fingers about your hip, as he settles his own muscular thighs between yours and he sees that there’s a damp spot on the pale pink shorts. Soaked through your underwear and your nightwear? He forgot how sensitive virgins can be. “Don’t lie to yourself, angel.”

He leans down, scarred lips brushing yours. You taste like his toothpaste; peppermint on his tongue as he swipes it over your lower lip and you sigh as you allow him entrance. It’s the first mark of him on you, but he knows it won’t be the last. He deliberately presses his knee against your clothed mount, grinding it just a little – and you whimper into his mouth, heated and desperate.

“We’ll be married soon as,” he murmurs to you, pulling back, looking at you with lust darkening his eyes. No man has ever looked at you quite as hungrily as Toji is looking at you right now. And he’s so handsome, his touches gentle-- “You wanna be a good girl for me, right? S’just what a wife does for her husband, yeah?”

“Yes,” you breathe, and Toji grins at you. It’s a feral, starving grin, that you feel deep inside of you as you clench around nothing and burn to be touched.

He kisses you again, hungrier. He nips at your lower lip, his tongue roughly demanding entrance – he dances against your own. You’ve never really understood the idea of kissing with tongues, but Toji knows exactly what he’s doing; hitting a spot on the roof of your mouth that makes you shudder and gasp, your hands coming up to grasp his biceps.

The muscle underneath them is so solid, and Toji can’t help but notice how soft your hands are on him. He knows you’ll be that soft everywhere else, and the thought spurs him on.

“I’m gonna undress you now,” he tells you, thick and throaty. His big fingers curve under the hem of the lacy top you’re wearing, gently tugging it up over your stomach and then your breasts. That sharp green gaze caresses every newly bared inch of you, a soft sigh escaping his lips. “Fuckin’ hell. You’re a sight for sore eyes, sweetheart.”

Your skin feels hot under the compliment, Toji’s flat palm sliding along the softness of your tummy to round over your breasts. Your nipples have pebbled and stiffened in the cool air of the spare room, and Toji flicks his thumb along one (making you shiver, again, he notices) before he bends his head to suckle the bud into his mouth, his tongue lapping at it in a way that has your back arching and thighs clenching.

He chuckles at the noise you make as his lips pop off, and he turns his attention to the other side.

“Responsive, ain’t ya?” He asks. “You’re adorable.”

You give him a trembling breath as a response, which he takes as a sign to begin a trail of wet, open mouthed kisses down from your breasts to your stomach, tongue tracing the shape of your navel, teeth grazing your hips so gently that you barely feel them. He takes the waistband of your shorts in his mouth and tugs those down using your teeth, and the vision of him between your legs like that--

“Ha,” he says, as his fingers reach to tug them, expertly manipulating your legs so he can get them off without moving from between them. “Careful there, darlin’. You’re gonna soak right through the sheets.”

His mouth, again – kissing firmly against the wet patch on your underwear, his breath fiery hot. His mouth is solid enough that you feel the jolt that goes through you as his nose pushes against your clit, even through the cotton. Toji almost smirks at how much of a cliché the white cotton underwear trimmed with pale pink lace is, but the scent of you is too heady for him to want to do anything but bury his head between your thighs.

Lower. He kisses all over your slit, hard enough that you jerk, ruing the barrier between you two. His thumb strokes circles into your inner thigh--

He seems content to kiss at you through the fabric – but really, he’s waiting for you to give in. To beg him to take them off. From just how wet his face is even with the barrier in his way, he doesn’t think it will be long – and you do not disappoint. You raise your whips, softly mewling;

“Please, I –”

“Please, what, darlin’?” He asks you. “C’mon, you can use your words – no secrets from your husband, right?”

“I—” You’re so cute, squirming and feeling like a slut for him. He loves it. He loves the tremble of your body and the fact that your eyes are glassy with need. “P-please take my underwear off, I wanna--” You swallow. “W-wanna feel without it--”

“Aww, y’should’ve just said so,” Toji says. Fingers pry beneath the gusset.

He doesn’t bother manipulating your body this time. He simply tugs hard enough to split the seams, the fabric delicate from being saturated in your slick.

(Doesn’t matter, anyway. While he’s home, you won’t be wearing underwear.)

You gasp at the display of strength, swallowing – and Toji grins at you again. Oh, you like that? He’s got more shows of strength where that came from, don’t you worry.

He props up your knees with his hands and says;

“Wrap your hands around these, keep your legs spread for me like a good girl, yeah?”

You nod, shyly averting your gaze as you do just that and the position spreads you open lewdly; your velvet-soft folds bared entirely to Toji’s hungry eyes.

You’re already absolutely dripping, but Toji can see that you’re nervous.

“Don’t worry,” he soothes you, again. He can’t help but notice how small you look; the pearl of your clit nestled between curling soft petals, your pulsing hole. He knows you’ll take him, but . . . fuck, he thinks you’ll be a stretch. Not that that’s a bad thing. “I’m gonna open you up, darlin’, alright?”

“Y-yeah,” your voice is tremulous, soft – and sends a throb right to his cock. It’s been straining against his boxer shorts since the moment he saw you, but your eyes all big and glossy with trust and the vulnerable position you’re in and the knowledge you have never been touched like this are really doing a number on it.

But fuck it, he’s not gonna hurt you more than he has to if he’s really going to keep you around. He gently spreads your plump labia lips even further apart with his fingers, so your clit stands swollen to attention. You shiver under his calloused fingers, as he leans in and a hot wash of breath fans over you.

Toji’s tongue darts out to lap a long, slow stripe from perineum to clit, and though he can’t see your face any more, he hears the way you whimper.

Another. He lets himself soak his face in your slick; lets his tongue get deep between your folds. You taste so good on his tongue; honey-sticky and sugar-sweet. The tip of the wet muscle gently flickers against your clit and your hands are suddenly wrapped in his hair, your chest heaving in sensitive gasps. You keep your legs raised, so he decides to be kind. He eases his lips off of you for a moment to mumble, amused;

“Don’t pull too hard, I’m too young to be losin’ my hair--”

Before he dives back in between your legs, once more licking and sucking at the tender flesh. Your stomach explodes in fireworks, your heart beating so fast you can hear it in your ears. Toji’s mouth and tongue against you is a wet, lascivious noise that at once makes your toes curl in pleasure and cringe in embarrassment. Is it awful and forward of you to be enjoying yourself like this? Your family have always drilled into you that a proper wife isn’t a slut, but still does what her husband wants--

Toji’s not your husband yet, but this is fine, right? To have him eating you out like you’re a desert oasis? His lips lock around your clit and he sucks and your vision whites out for a second, your hands tugging hard at the dark hair in your grip--

And he comes away with a light laugh that still manages to shiver with seduction. His face is shiny with you as he looks at you with eyes half-lidded and still hungry.

“What’d I say, huh?” He teases you. “Angel, I could have fucked you with my tongue all night--” He likes seeing how the crude words make you flinch, nervous but pleased but ashamed all warring within you. Your lips are pushed forward, the moue almost petulant. His voice drops a tone. “Don’t look at me with that cute pout. You don’t know what it does to me.”

If he didn’t still need to stretch you out using his fingers, he’d take a moment to kiss you so you could taste yourself and just how needy you’d been for him on his lips. But he’s still driving a hole through his boxers, so . . . the sooner you’re able to take him, the better.

You’ve gone back to holding your legs apart with your hands. Excellent.

Besides. He hadn’t finished what he was doing, and he thinks it’ll be easier to fuck you if you’ve already come once. Your poor, swollen clit hasn’t had all the attention it deserves. You’re being so cute, so well-behaved for him--

“Relax,” he says, softly, as he eases his fingers from spreading you open, dipping them in the mess he’s made of your slit. “This might sting a bit--”

One finger finds your hole; circles the sensitive entrance, making the muscles in your thighs tremble. But you keep your legs spread open for him like a good girl, and he’s able to gently push his index finger in, first to one knuckle, then to the second, and then to the ones at the base.

“Good girl,” he breathes, barely able to breathe at how tight you feel around him. Your insides are silky and hot and wet, clinging to him like a lifeboat in the sea. He pumps the lone finger in and out of you, rubbing the pad against the inside of your walls until he finds the spot that makes you throw your head back and give him a long, choked moan. “There we go,” he keeps talking to you, softly, like you’re a spooked animal. “’M gonna put the second one in, yeah? You’re takin’ it like a champ, sweetheart. You wanted this, huh?”

You babble something that he doesn’t care enough to listen to but overall sounds positive. This one’s a stretch, his middle finger and index finger even tighter. But he needs to get three in you, he thinks, or you’ll never take his cock. You let go of your thighs, and he sucks in a breath – but your feet clearly need purchase on the bed, your fingers twisting in bedsheets now they can’t twist in his hair, and you breathe through the stretch so he figures it’d be churlish to tell you off for it now.

He keeps hitting that spot as he fucks you slowly on his fingers, until he can feel your cunt sucking him in, pulsing around him.

“Third finger,” he tells you, his own throat dry. “Next time I fuck you with this one, you’ll feel my weddin’ ring--”

You tighten around the other two at that. Cute. Three fingers opening you wide, scissoring inside of you, aches – but you’re being so good for him, the most that’s coming out of your mouth sweet little whines. Toji rewards you by crooking them inside you against that spot, his thumb coming to gently rub circles into your swollen clit.

He’s been teasing you for too long, and you are a virgin – it’s no surprise that the stimulation proves too much for you too quickly, and you arch your back at the same time as fireworks go off inside of you, your cunt fluttering around his fingers, tightening and loosening as waves of euphoria wash over you.

You soak Toji’s fingers with the rush of your release; the gush of liquid.

He whistles, low and impressed. So you’re a squirter, huh? Toji doesn’t mind that at all. It’s not like he’ll be doing the laundry – and it’s kind of hot, to look down at you and see what a mess he’s made of your little virgin cunt--

“That’s it,” he says, guiding you over the last low crests of your orgasm. “I think y’can take me now, sweetheart. Let’s get you comfy--”

He shows off his strength a bit, because he knows it will get you going despite the sensitivity of your body from your recent orgasm. You’re man-handled by him higher on the bed, so your head is on the mountain of pillows you’ve slipped down. He can pick you up as if you weigh nothing at all, despite the creak of the bedsprings clearly saying the opposite.

Your legs are urged to wrap around his hips.

“Don’t worry,” he tells you, again. He doesn’t think he’s ever reassured a fuck as carefully and constantly as he’s reassuring you; but then again, he’s never intended to marry one of his fucks before.

You, though – you’re so adaptable. So untouched. So different from women and men who come onto him at bars and flutter eyelashes and make soft little insinuations. He can corrupt you into exactly what he wants, and the thought of you knowing nothing but his cock forever and serving him like he’s the only man in the world--

It’s enough to make a lesser man come in his pants.

“You’re tired, yeah? I’ll do most of the work. You lie there and take it like the sweetheart you are.”

He’s shucked his underwear off in the man-handling, and now he shifts so that you can see the full glory of what he’s packing. Your eyes widen.

He gets that a lot. Even for a virgin who’s probably never seen a cock before, it’s obvious that Toji’s the real deal – you swallow, nervous, and whisper;

“I—what if it doesn’t fit--?”

(There’s a tremble of fear in there, that you’ve fucked up; that he still might throw you aside if you can’t take him, and now you’ve been utterly ruined.)

“Hey,” he says, all comforting and appeasing, “I ain’t hurt you yet, have I?” You shake your head, but your bottom lip is still trembling. “I’m gonna go slow with you, I promise.” He shifts forward again, the head of his cock catching against your entrance. “Just keep your eyes on me, darlin’. I promise, it’ll feel so good . . . you wanna keep your husband happy, don’t ya? I’ve already got you all stretched and prepped. Just breathe--”

He keeps up the steady stream of talk as he urges his hips forward, your cunt swallowing the head of his cock first before he’s able to push more of his shaft in. You keep your eyes on his, green eyes locked against yours – and though he can hear the shake in your chest, you don’t make any noise louder than a huff when he gets two thirds of the way in. He pauses there for a minute, letting you adjust – he can feel every minute tremble of your body, swears he can hear your heartbeat.

“Good?” He asks, and you nod – and he slides the last third of himself inside you in the same unhurried pace, until he’s settled hot and heavy entirely inside of you.

His eyes map your stomach, pleasure rushing through him at how big he must be inside of you; there’s the lightest shadow on your pelvis, as if he’s big enough to make your stomach bulge. He takes in the sight of you with all nine inches of him buried inside of you; the sore, spread-wide stretch of your cunt around him, the creamy ring of your pleasure where you’re joined.

He can’t fuck you vigorously – he thinks he’d fucking breakyou - but you’re tight enough that he’s getting plenty of stimulation just from keeping his cock in there.

“P-please,” you manage to form, through your swollen lips and your glassy eyes and your dry throat. “W-want you to fuck me, Toji--”

Oh, fucking hell.

You’re perfect.

“I will, sweetheart, don’t you worry,” he instinctively leans down and presses a kiss on your sweat-soaked forehead, flexing his hips so they withdraw the smallest amount. “Just lie there and take it for me--”

You do.

He doesn’t fuck into you with abandon, though he wants to more than he can say; plenty of time for that in the future, as your cunt moulds to his cock and it isn’t such an effort to get it inside of you. Plenty of time for you to learn just how hard he wants to rail you, until you’re covered in his bruises and there are friction burns on your knees – plenty of time for him to show you every depraved thing you make him want to do to you and make sure that you enjoy it.

He fucks you with slow, shallow strokes, taking most of his pleasure from the way you feel around of him; your eyes, your mouth, your heaving chest. You’re hot and tight and wet and grip him perfectly – his fingers digging into your thighs where they’re wrapped around his hips.

He’s been hard for what seems like hours, so it’s no surprise, either, that he feels his orgasm come quickly up on him like a steam train – it’s not like you’re going to shame him for coming quickly, you’ve never even been fucked before. So he lets the heat all gather low in his belly until he can feel himself teetering on the edge – and then, he dips his head and pulls you into a heated kiss as he grinds his hips in a circular motion inside of you and feels himself tip over the precipice.

His cock shudders and judders inside of you, shooting rope after rope of his come deep into your body; thick and hot and full. His teeth worry at your bottom lip almost hard enough to draw blood, the groan vibrating through you as he comes and pushing you into another short, trembling orgasm as if trying to milk him dry of everything that he can give you.

(You like him coming inside? He can work with that too.)

Your thighs are tight around his hips, your arms draping loosely about his neck as he kisses you. Your tongue nervously probes at the scar; the slightly raised line bisecting his mouth, and though he usually doesn’t like it being noticed or touched (he knows it gives him an air of danger, but sometimes the events surrounding it’s acquirement sting), he finds that with you he doesn’t mind.

With you, his eyes flicker closed and he just enjoys the closeness and warmth of your body, even as he gently pulls his cock out of you (you leak slick onto the bedsheets, again. He’s gonna have to buy some more laundry tablets).

“How’s that, darlin?” He murmurs to you, not moving from his comfortable place on top of you. “Glad y’didn’t save it for marriage now, huh?”

Your cheeks radiating heat is enough answer for him, Toji’s smirk so wide and smug that it threatens to split his face in two. He flops to one side of you, pulling you in, cradling you against him like a little spoon. He can’t help but notice that the curve of your body fits perfectly against his.

The two of you will fit even better in Toji’s bed, he thinks.

“We’ll get all the paperwork and shit sorted tomorrow,” he tells you, as he feels your breathing begin to even out, the tremors from your orgasm begin to fade. He could get used to this too. Someone warming his bed. Someone to cuddle up to on cold nights. Someone soft, to ease the loneliness he hadn’t realised he was feeling.

He doesn’t want to get sappy on you, though. He lowers his face to the shell of your ear, breathing gently, murmuring in a voice that’s still dripping with desire for everything you represent to him;

“The other stuff that goes with a marriage too. I wasn’t kiddin’ about wantin’ to finger you with my wedding ring on, darlin’.”

sawako.