kentosbento

[kentosbento]

Brooklyn Baby

art in the banner is by @e0308r on X

pairings - dad's best friend! Satoru x F! reader

summary - you've got the opportunity of a lifetime for an audition for Julliard, your dream, but there's just one problem, the hotel in New York has booked your room and has nothing available. Good news, your dad's best friend Satoru Gojo shows up and offers you to stay in his suite since he's in town on business. But there's two big problems - one, you've wanted him since you can remember, and two, he can't stand how fucking pretty you are. He can't want you - and nothing can come from it - imagine what your dad Suguru would do if anything ever happened between you!? So nothing will happen - right?

warnings- MDNI- taboo tropes, age gap (Satoru is 41, reader is 22) reader is Suguru's daughter, forbidden relationships, obsessive Satoru, mutual pining, sexual tension, explicit smut and light angst- this chap - a fuck ton of tension, drinking, oral (m and f recieving) spitting, fingering, cum drinking, multiple rounds, creampie, mating press, feelings and emotions, light angst, Satoru being a daddy, size difference/size kink. -WC- 10.6k wc

This is gonna have four parts instead of three so I'm not rushing anything! <3 comments/rbs appreciated if you enjoy :')

<<<part one - part three>>> (soon)

Part Two

To watch your fingers dance across those keys is like nothing Satoru Gojo can really explain, he’d always known your talent, but maybe you needed just a little support, because as you peek at him sitting rows back behind the judges, you smile. So pretty and lit up, despite the mess you were last night, bright eyed from the espresso he’d made sure to get you. 

It didn’t really take much convincing, once Satoru puts his mind to something, it just happens for him. He walked in with a bright smile, his shades firmly on the bridge of his nose, suit on and perfectly tailored. The female judges and the male judges swooned so bad you think they’d let him into Julliard for charisma and looks alone, singing his praises as they allowed you to try again.

Today you’re wearing a pretty black dress, the way it hugs your body is a cruel joke to Satoru, who’d had to jerk his cock in his room last night, remembering every bit of your kiss. The heat between your thighs, the way your skin felt soft like silk underneath his fingertips. Now he imagines you right on his lap in that piano bench, playing just for him.

He’s dumb, the way he feels like your composition is a song for him, like some idiot kid in love, not a grown fucking man. But the effects you have are undeniable, your eyes looking at him across the enormous theater. You play so beautifully you make the judges cry, your hands working right next to each other in a crescendo that echoes in the theater.

He can feel it, whatever emotions you’re having, poured into that song, so intense it’s hard for him to focus, until you come to an end and the judges deliberate, while you’re sitting there trembling. He just wants to hold you close, tell you how fucking perfect you are, clenching his hands into fists as he rests in one of the red blush chairs, studying your every movement.

Of course you pass the prelims this time, you’re eagerly running into his arms with a beautiful smile on your face, he picks you up and spins you into a huge hug. “Satoru, thank you!”

“It’s nothing. I’m proud of you.” You break down into tears at that, burying your face in your hands as he holds you close. “Shh, don’t cry.”

“That meant so much to me.” You’re hugging him tightly, never wanting to let go, and both of you try to ignore how good you feel against each other. He barely manages to pull back, smiling and tapping your nose.

“You’re insane at it, even better than I remember.”

“Oh thank you, I think you helped me by being here.” You take his hands in yours, and he looks down at them for a moment, resisting the urge to kiss every single one of your little fingers.

“Do you mind coming with me to these meetings? It won’t take too long,” Satoru asks later, an umbrella thrown right over both of your heads as you step out of the double doors, like it’s just an instinct he does so. “I don’t have a lot of time to take you back, but I could get you a different car?”

“No, no, I don’t mind at all,” you smile up at him, tucking your hand into the crook of his elbow, somehow the rain pattering around in droplets makes his scent even more apparent - whatever insanely expensive cologne he wears mixing with his natural, clean scent. Intoxicating as he leans closer. “What is it, you’re staring.”

“You look so happy now, it’s just nice.” He smiles casually, like every sentence he says doesn’t thoroughly fuck your brain chemistry up. Little things he does that you don’t think any guy you get with would bother to do.

“I am very, very happy because of you.”

“Nah, just got them to give you a chance, you’re still the one who got it done. So you have one more, they said?” You nod, the rain is bouncing right off his large clear umbrella, the cars rushing through the streets as you both stand there, far too close.

“Yes, that was the preliminary, then I have my final on Friday. I’m hoping dad will be able to make that one.”

“I’m sure he’ll try, why did he buy some french poodle anyway?” You giggle, shaking your head.

“I really don’t know, but I can’t say I’m upset at the company,” your voice drops just a little softer, looking up at him under your lashes. Satoru sighs, looking away then, your arm still snug against his, you feel him tense. “Sorry.”

“Don’t apologize.” It’s there, the words he doesn’t want to say, the thoughts of kissing you and having you fucking grinding on his lap last night in the back of that car.

“I should though. It was…”

“You were drunk, and upset.”

“You think that’s all it was?” His lids lower a bit, looking down at you, snowy lashes casting shadows over his perfect high cheek bones, his lips parted just a bit.

“What else can it be, sweetheart? I can understand how it happened for you, the problem is my response.”

His hands clench around that umbrella pole as the limousine pulls up, you feel how tense he is next to you. “Satoru, your response was not a problem-”

“It was a problem. And I need you to forget it, please.” You just manage a little nod. “I want you to be comfortable with me.”

“I am, that’s-”

“Come on.” He cuts you off again, you sigh, frustrated that he wants to just completely ignore everything that has happened between you both.

Does he regret it?

You slide into the back of the limo now, he steps in behind you, shaking out the umbrella, little droplets in his snowy locks, he brushes them out a bit, his thigh pressing against yours, it all feels far too good. “I should tell dad that I got the prelims done.”

“Yeah, he’d like that I’m sure,” Satoru brushes your damp strands of hair back behind your ears, expression unreadable, before pulling out his phone and calling someone. You talk to your dad during the quick ride over to an enormous skyscraper, just one of the many, many things the Gojo corporation owns. “You ready?”

“Yeah, of course.”

“It’s gonna be so boring.” You giggle a bit, the sound tightening his chest with far, far too much affection, he takes your hand in his and it just feels too natural, the way it fits in his own, so much so it’s difficult to remove it.

If it was just a kiss bothering him he would be better off, but your scent, the way you look at him, everything about you is too much. He knows after this he’ll have to just avoid being around you any longer, he’s teetering constantly on the edge. Again, in an elevator outlooking the streets below, all he can think of is pressing you against the glass and kissing you, to feel your lips again and again.

He shakes the thoughts off, he can’t think it, focusing on acting casual, when a few women greet him eagerly, ready with all his paperwork.

“Mr. Gojo!”

“Mr Gojo, here!”

“Hello, Mr. Gojo!

He smiles at them, looking at you then. “Can you get me a mocha latte, and her a french vanilla and something to eat please?”

“Of course Mr. Gojo!” They all sort of fight over who is getting Satoru’s coffee, he’s shaking hands with several men in suits almost as nice as his.

No one really dressed as good as Satoru.

“You didn’t have to ask for food for me,” you say when they bring you over lunch and hot, foamy drinks. 

“I’m dragging you around, might as well feed you.” He tousles your hair affectionately with a smile and a wink, and you again just feel like he thinks you’re a child.

Is that what you are to him?

Why does it bother you so much?

Soon you’re watching him enthusiastically gesturing in a glass meeting room, he shoots you a smile and a wink, and you smile back at him, enamored in his movements. He’s so loud with his laugh it echoes across the entire floor, you’re still sipping your coffee in one of the break rooms when he sits next to you, propping his feet up on the sparkling clean black table, you turn to look at him.

“Boring, huh?”

“It’s fine Satoru.”

“You call me that now, wasn’t I just Gojo before?” You get a little flustered, when he sets his legs down, a hand coming to rest on your thigh before he seems to think better of it, pulling it off, clearing his throat. “Is there a reason why?”

“I like your name, I like saying it I guess,” your voice gets quieter then, your hand coming over his knee, eyes locking. “Does it bother you?”

“No, just was curious,” instead of taking your hand off, his covers yours for a moment, every casual touch becoming far too easy. “I have one more meeting then we can head out of here. Wanna celebrate?”

“Should I, when I have one more to go?” Your brows knit together, he smooths the spot in between them with his thumb, smiling and being far, far too attractive when he stands, putting you face level with his chest. His dress shirt seems to have to stretch over his broad muscles, making your fingers itch to unbutton it.

“Of course you should, we can grab drinks - but you will have a limit of two.”

“A limit of two?” He nods, and you flush then. “Well, you’re probably right. I was kind of a mess.”

“It happens, at your age me and your dad were terrorizing the university.” You remember hearing far, far too many stories about it. “You’re a good kid if that’s your worst night, no jail stays or anything.”

A good kid.

The word makes you sick, he’s off again to another meeting, another assistant brings you more coffee, curiously studying you as if you are indeed some kid Satoru has dragged to work. You wonder what it would be like to be with him, shit you know could never, ever happen, shoving it down in the far recesses of your brain, as you pop in your earbuds and begin to listen to more music.

It’s about another hour, and the sky is beginning to darken in the floor to ceiling windows of the room, when finally Satoru walks back in, tugging his jacket back on and yawning. “Boring, boring.”

You eye him then, standing up and stretching just a bit, having sat in this gray leather spin chair for far too long. “How’d it go?”

“Perfect of course. C’mon, we’ll go celebrate, I know a good place.”

“You seem to know the city pretty well,” you mention, when you two head back over to the elevator, far too close together once more, the rain has stopped but the sky is all gray. “Do you come to New York a lot?”

“At least once every couple months, I have this building of course and most of my business meetings end up here.”

“Do you think that we’ll see each other?” He tenses at your question, the last thing he needs is to be around you alone more, when in two days he’s already slipped and jerked it to you - and kissed you. How far down the hole to hell did he really want to fall?

“I mean, I’m sure we’d be close at times, yes.”

“Maybe we can…” You trail off, are you asking your dad’s best friend on a fucking date right now, really? “I mean maybe… It'll be nice to have a familiar face, that's all.”

“You’ll have so many friends soon you won’t want to hang out with me I’m sure, all boring business here.” You play it off, the conversation is light and casual as he essentially pushes you off the topic, as he puts the divide greater and greater.

There’s still no talk of last night, when you two walk into the pretty bar it’s already the evening, he’s got a hand on the small of your back when you both push through the crowd, a calmer and much classier mix than the dive bar you got drunk in last night. It’s sleeker, the music is loud but not ear shattering, vibrating through your body as your heels click on the floor and you feel eyes darting your way.

Even the bartender greets him - Mr. Gojo! - and he’s giving her a smile far, far too fucking charming and easy. The one that comes too naturally as if he doesn’t understand the effects, but also understands them exactly. She looks at you curiously as she starts making his drink without him even asking.

“Can I see your ID?” She asks, you grab your purse then hand it to her.

“Don’t wanna see mine, Sara? Callin’ me old?” He pouts and leans forward on the bar, she laughs a bit, shaking her head and handing him his cocktail, something pink and fruity looking, surprising you a bit.

“You’re far from old, Mr. Gojo. I just know you.” She hands you your card back, and leans forward, her breasts on full fucking display as she’s far too close to him. “You never called me by the way.”

“I know, I got busy,” you’re tense now, as you watch her hopelessly flirt, ignoring the fact you have no drink clearly when a male bartender comes up, smiling at you.

“Hi beautiful, can I get you something?” He asks, you watch Gojo in your peripherals glare, and you bat your lashes at him, leaning forward.

“I’d love something, could you just give me your favorite?”

“You trust me that much? What if I enjoy Irish car bombs?” You laugh a bit, and Satoru hates that he wants to yank you against him, he fucking can’t and this is the point - you two could never be together.

He hoped it would cinch it in for you if he just casually flirted, like her voice wasn’t annoying him, as if he can’t inhale your sweet scent next to him, your body so close against him, the young bartender’s eyes are drifting across your chest. Satoru hates the possessive feeling stirring in him again, the way he wants to kiss you right in front of everyone there, claiming you as his.

It’s not how he thinks about women, he’s never bothered by that, never been overly jealous or possessive. He tries to explain it as protective of you, but his facade is slowly fading with every moment too close to you, watching as the bartender makes you what looks like a cosmopolitan, shaking it up and winking over at you. He forgets to even respond to the girl right in front of him.

“How long are you in town?” She asks, and he struggles to focus, your fingertips brush the young bartender’s and you both share a blush under the flashing lights ahead.

He seems nice enough, your age probably.

So why does the thought of anyone near you make him want to tug you right against him, stupid fucking thoughts that get worse with every sip in his mouth, when you turn to him and try to get up the bar stool, his hands come to your waist like an instinct. He hears your little gasp as he sits you up on it, standing between your bare thighs and leaving his touch there for far longer than he should.

You both look at each other, the unspoken tension rising until it’s unbearable, Satoru sits on the barstool right next to you, his knee brushing against your thigh. “Thanks, they’re too tall for us normal folk.”

“Ya calling me a giant?” He demands, you just giggle, nodding. “Rude, you’re mad you haven’t grown since you were twelve.”

“I did grow! Like a half an inch.” You pout and he chuckles, shaking his head and sipping his drink again, swirling it in the pretty crystal glass. “You used to let me sit on your shoulders and the air felt way cooler, can’t lie.”

“Did it now?” He can’t stop but grin back at you, infectious as you are, sipping on your drink when his phone rings. “Shit.”

“It’s fine, take it. I’m a big girl.”

“Says the girl who was stumbling all around last night,” you shove him playfully, and his phone rings again. “I’ll step out for just a moment, no trouble please.”

“Oh stop, I'm fine.” Satoru takes the call out front, and in the span of maybe ten minutes, he has to see you in your pretty dress with several men trying to talk to you.

You’re a beautiful girl, he doesn’t blame them, but he can’t stop himself from walking right up, towering over every guy there and clearing his throat, hands in his pockets. You’ve got his drink right next to yours - some brand new one he’s assuming one of these boys bought for you, as if you’re protecting his for him. You smile in relief when he scares them away, handing it back to him.

“Can’t leave you alone for a minute, they come flocking,” he teases, you roll your eyes at that, shaking your head. “You’re a regular Scarlett O’hara.”

“You’re not that old, using nineteen thirties references!”

“I am that old.” You smile and the color tinting your cheeks is too pretty, his fingers brush yours along the stem of the glass, little shocks rushing through your fingers from the contact. “You keep my drink safe?”

“Can’t have a girl slipping you something - Mr. Gojo.”

“You’re a brat,” you sip on your drink now, smiling against the rim. “New drink? Remember your limit.”

“Two, I know. You act just like dad sometimes.”

“He didn’t discipline you enough, not enough ass beatings.”

“Excuse me! I was a good kid!”

“Huh. I don’t know.” You shove him again, and he can’t stop himself from holding your wrist, your hand doesn’t immediately fall off, it rests there instead, feeling his heart slowly thudding against your palm.

“You wanna beat my ass or something?” The way you look at him destroys him, a confident grown man reduced to almost stuttering in response. “I’d probably like it.”

“I’m so done with you.” You’re grinning like you’ve won, when he has a vivid image of leaving red handprints across your ass, still standing between your thighs, a hand against your bare thigh, thumb brushing, you bite your lip and shift before he pulls back.

“You didn’t have to move it,” you murmur, he sighs then, shaking his head. “I’m not drunk if you want to blame that again.”

His lips press together, and you know you’ve made him mad when he says your name in that way, that ‘you’re pushing your luck’ sort of way that makes you want to press it just that much more. The bartender gives Satoru a refill, you notice she doesn’t even bother to acknowledge you, instead giving Satoru her number to put in his phone, and you slip another drink down your throat, hating the feeling in your tummy.

You can’t feel that way, he’s not yours.

“I said two,” he murmurs moments later, blue eyes lit up as you get one more. “That would be three.”

“It’s free though, the hottie bartender said so.” His jaw sets, when you hop down off the seat, standing far too close to him as more and more people clamor inside. “You gonna hook up with pretty bartender?”

“You’re asking me that?” You shrug, winking over at the other bartender who had given you his number. “You gonna hook up with him?”

“A stranger, no. To be disappointed I need a good six months of mental manipulation.” Satoru raises a brow now.

“Are college boys doing that shit nowadays?”

“You could say that,” he exhales, looking down at you even more intensely, as your hand slips up his chest. “Anway you didn’t answer my question. She’s super hot, right?”

“I guess,” how the fuck does he answer that when you exist, right here in front of him so fucking beautiful? The way your earrings glitter across the gentle curve of your neck, the way you bite your lower lip, breasts almost brushing against him, tempting him with every breath.

“She’s your type, I remember plenty of them.”

“Yeah, maybe that type isn’t working so well then,” he smirks just a bit. “That type is usually stuck up little bitches.”

“Maybe. Everyone is dancing,” you murmur, his eyes take in the room, seeing everyone arching against each other in the room. “Should I ask one of those boys I wonder?”

“You’re really trying to piss me off, after I got you that second audition and everything?” He tilts your chin up, holding it between his thumb and forefinger.

“Would you care if I did?”

“It’s rude, you brat, we’re… out together.”

“But would you care?” You ask again, standing too close to him, your fingertips trailing down.

“Sweetheart, you need to stop,” he grips your shoulders now, leaning low over you as the sounds of the bar fade to the background, ebbing and flowing in vibrations through your bodies. Your eyes look up to his then, a hand on his chest stilled from where it had been slipping down. “Keep touching me like that, and you’ll get fucking ruined for anyone.”

“Ruin me for anyone.” He glares now, your hand slips up his chest, it feels so freeing to touch Satoru Gojo in public, no one knowing who either of you are to each other, perhaps many of them are thinking you are just a couple on a date.

You want that, you want him.

He’s furious as your hand trails up his neck, his grip tightening, while you brush the back of it and feel silky strands you’ve yearned to touch for as long as you can remember. His blue eyes are lidded, the swirling lights of the bar are casting colors along the perfect planes of his face, and he tightens his grip, shaking his head.

“Ruin you, you’re saying that shit? Like you’re made to torture me,” his hands slip down, his heart pounding as you boldly say the shit in his lewd fucking dreams. “You are young, okay? Too young.”

“I’m a grown woman, Satoru. I’m not innocent or something.” He raises a brow, his fingers now touching your waist, stepping ever closer, until you’re pressed against him, whispers louder than blaring music.

“So experienced, are you? Sweetheart I’ve been fucking since you were born.”

“Think I can’t keep up with you?” He shakes his head again, lips too close, you taste the sweetness of his cocktail on his breath.

“I won’t find out. You’ll go to Julliard and find some fucking musician to date-”

“I want you.”

“Shut up.” You glare, and he touches your lips with his thumb.

“Shut me up.”

“Jesus Christ," he kisses you again, right in front of everyone, and you fall into him, desperate as you lean up on your tip toes, feeling him tugging you tightly against his chest, he exhales as he pulls back. “Why do you have to be so heartbreakingly pretty?”

“Satoru…” You blink back emotion at his words, and he sees it then, more than any desire for your body - he wants to make you feel as pretty as you are.

That’s dangerous - this is dangerous.

“Forget that kiss too,” he tugs back and you lean up, dragging him back down for another kiss, until he’s pressed you against the bar, tongue slipping inside your mouth as you whine out into it. “Forget that one.”

“I’ll never forget anything about you.” He curses then, pulling away to cup your face, to glare at you, but you’re too lost in him.

“Don’t say that.”

“I never have forgotten anything, any moment.”

“I swear if you don’t get away from me…”

“What? What’re you gonna do, Satoru?” You whisper that name, tempting him again, and his jaw tenses, shaking his head, resting it against yours as he bends at the waist. “Do anything you want to me.”

“You’re such a brat.” He huffs and slams his drink back, eyeing you now. “Finish it, now, we’re leaving.”

“Yes, sir.” His scowl almost fucking makes you cum it’s so sexy, the set of his strong jaw, the way his blue eyes smolder.

“I swear to god I should beat your ass over my knee.”

“Promise?”

“Finish your fucking drink, now,” you love his tone, that fucking soft command like when he made you drink water last night, so sexy you’re trembling, you quickly finish the drink you had taken one sip on when he lays money on the bar. “Let’s go.”

“Okay,” you’ve pissed him off clearly, but he holds your wrist, as if to protect you from any other man coming up to hit on you, you follow him out until the cool air hits, making you shiver just a bit in your dress. He slips off his jacket and tugs it around you like it’s some second nature for him too, calling for his driver on his phone then. “Satoru…”

“I’ve heard enough from you today.” You sigh, looking down and tugging the jacket around you closer. “The next sounds I want to hear are moans from your mouth.”

You gasp, eyes locking up to his, when the car pulls up on the busy street far too quickly, you suppose Satoru paid the driver enough he’ll wait around on his command. You bite your trembling lip when he opens the door for you, and you slip inside the back of the black limo - you’re not sure Satoru rides any other way as long as you’ve known him. He slips in behind you and shuts the door, leaving you both alone.

You say nothing, breaths coming quick when he turns to you and the limo starts driving, he runs a hand through his hair, before turning to you, fingers running across his own jacket slung over you, ever so slowly, until he eases it down. Your breath catches, heart hammering as he looks at you in that way only Satoru Gojo can, fingers brushing across your cheek, eyes studying your face carefully.

“Any of those boys make you cum?” His words don’t just shake you, they ruin you, the confident tone mix with the husky desire. “I asked a question, sweetheart, be a good girl and answer.”

Fuck.

“N-no, they haven’t,” you admit softly, when he tilts your chin up, and your hair falls back, he studies your swollen lips. “The few guys I was with I had to… get myself off after.”

“How do you get your pretty little cunt off?”

Fuck, fuck.

“Um…” He raises a brow now, brushing your hair back, leaving goosebumps along your bare shoulder where it’s lifted.

“All that talk just now, can’t answer me?”

“I um… I play with my clit, or use my vibrator.” He leans over you then, his hand on your bare thigh, you whine out.

“Did anyone eat you out yet?” You shake your head, blushing furiously now in the darkness of the back seat. “No one?”

“No, they didn’t do anything to me. It was me… pleasing them.” You look down now, imagining that with him, when he tilts your chin back up. “Do you do that?”

He chuckles then, lips quirking up, before laying you back, hovering over you, your hand caresses the silk of his tie as it brushes your bare skin, he’s got one of his big hands trailing up one of your thighs then, pressing against the plush of it as he spreads them. “Of course I do that, you sure you really want me to ruin you? Gonna be real fucking hard to fuck one of your college boys after me.”

“You sound jealous I fucked them at all,” he glares a bit at you, while you lean up on your elbows, brushing back his hair. “Don’t worry, I’m jealous you've ever been with any of those girls.”

“You’re a toxic little thing, aren’t you?” You just smile, but when he kisses you again, you’re writhing under him, already soaking wet and throbbing. “Haven’t touched you yet, and your cunt is that hot f’me?”

“Fuck…” You’re whining out when he kisses down your collar bone, his tongue lapping right at the base of your neck, and his fingers trail torturously slow. “Satoru, please.”

“Impatient, hmm? Needy?”

“Shh, yes,” he keeps his light pressure, his inch by inch trek higher and higher, pausing right before he toys with the elastic of your panties, you’re desperately arching your hips for more of his touches. “Toru…”

“Shh,” he kisses you again, barely brushing your cunt up and down even as his cock is leaking against his boxers. “Stop me now.”

“No, I want you. So badly, please. Touch me - mnh!” He’s pressing his long fingers against you finally, moaning when he feels you sticky and soaked.

“You're this wet already?” He’s taunting you, but you’re arching up, dying for more friction, hands gripping his broad shoulders as your thighs tremble. “Fucking my hand like that, will you fuck my face too?”

He’s too much, you’re close from just him rubbing you over your panties when he pulls his fingers back. “No, no back please.”

“Impatient little brat,” he sighs, lapping your juices off his finger and moaning then, kissing you once more as he tugs them down your thighs, letting them fall until they’re dangling off one ankle. “Stop me.”

“No. Stop asking me to - mnh!” He’s exhaling, kissing lower and lower, tugging your dress down to reveal a pretty peak of your breasts, moaning then.

“God, you’re fucking perfect,” he takes a nipple into his mouth, your hand’s tugging in his light silver locks, your back arches for more, your whimpers filling his ears as he tastes you. “Taste so sweet everywhere.”

“Ngh!” You’re lost, just a few caresses are more pleasure than you’ve ever fucking had with anyone, when he kisses lower, hungry kisses over the thin material of your dress, leaning up and loosening his tie, so sexy you almost cum from that, let alone him kissing the inside of your knee.

“If we do this, it’s just… for this week. Then we can’t again. Okay?” You hear it, the guilt creeping in his voice, and your heart already breaks thinking you won’t have this again, before you’ve even gotten it. “And just me and you know this.”

“I wouldn’t tell anyone, I swear. But… if I agree, I have my condition.”

He smirks as he kisses higher, slipping your dress up your hips and eyeing your cunt, moaning at the pretty sight. “Fuck it, anything if I can taste it.”

“I can fuck you as much as I want this week. That’s my condition.” He smirks then, infuriatingly handsome as he brushes a kiss even higher, and spreads your thighs apart.

“You’re cute, thinking you can keep up with me,” he kisses your cunt then, you’re whimpering at just that, at his hot breath, something you’ve never felt. “But I’ll take you up on that deal. At the end of the week…”

“Never again.”

“And I’ll fuck you as much as I want to, hmm?” You nod eagerly, not having a clue just how good Satoru’s stamina is, when he finally settles lower, broad shoulders pressing your inner thighs apart, the one pressed against the back of the limo seat is tugged over his shoulder, as he sees all of you then. “You’re tensing up.”

“Does it look… is it actually…”

“You’re perfect, sweetheart, fuck it’s the prettiest I’ve even seen. Yeah?” You swallow nervously, reassured and so exposed to him, but the way he parts your folds with long fingers, flicking his tongue up your slit and groaning, you’re lost. “I want you to cum as many times as you want, all over my face. Will you be good for me and do it?”

“Y-yes, yes - ah!” He’s buried his face then, Satoru Gojo who is always in the most control, loses it as he laps at your pretty cunt desperately. You’re moaning loudly, so fucking loud and lewd, mixing with his breathy groans as he slurps up all the wetness just gushing from your little hole.

“Mnh,” he’s rutting his hard cock against the seat, tongue working you so good you can’t stand it, fucking inside your gummy little walls that grip his wet muscle, spasming as this pressure in your tummy coils. Satoru devours you like he’s starved for you, like you are just drooling out the finest wine, and you’re lost to him, not even trying to hold back.

How can you hold back after wanting him forever?

“Fuck, that's it sweetheart,” he slips two long fingers deep inside your cunt now, filling you and stretching you so much you're struggling to accommodate. He grins up at you as he watches your eager cunt suck them up. “Bet they're bigger than any dick you had huh?”

“Youre… a… menace,” he chuckles again, curling them up as you jerk and feel that spot. “Oh my god- ah!”

“No one hit it baby? I'll make sure I give it special attention,” Satoru curls them again, moving them up and down as the pressure builds and he looks up to see your eyes roll back. “Need you to cum for me, can you?”

You're not answering, not as you see white hot stars behind your closed eyes, clinging to his shoulders over his dress shirt when he finds your clit with his hot mouth. He sucks the tiny, twitching little clit in, humming on it as he scissors his long fingers in and out of your soppy little hole now, you've never felt it, so much pressure building in your core.

“Too much, too- ngh!” He's moving them faster, vibrations from his fucking humming feeling better than any toy you could find, the combination far, far too much. You're screaming out in the backseat of the limo, with your dad's best friend's hair pulled in your fingers, as you begin to roll up your hips for more.

“That's it, use me sweetheart, go ahead, let go.” He whispers, before curling his fingers and hitting just that spot again, tongue flicking your clit one more time till you let go, and make a fucking mess of him.

Your back arches up, as he grips your hip and drinks every bit that pours hungrily from your orgasm as it rolls over you in waves. You're gasping out for a breath, pleasure spreading until your entire body tingles and your cunt is pulsing around his thick digits. He moans as he slurps and laps up every bit, until you're oversensitive, tears spilling from the release, and he looks up at you.

His face is covered in you, clear and slick, you overheat at the image, when he leans over, pressing a sweet kiss on your cunt. Just that makes you hiss and jerk, earning his little chuckle. “Sensitive?”

You nod, quickly, he eases his fingers out with a sectioned pop from your walls gripping him, aftershocks making more arousal drool out of your hole. “Mnh, f-fuck…”

“We can keep it here you know, sinned enough I think,” Satoru leans over you now, a thigh pressing up between your soaked cunt, you moan lewd and wanton at the sensation, expensive slacks just soaked by you, as he brushes your hair back gently. “If I take it further there's good chance I don't stop, good chance your dad takes me the fuck out when I knock his pretty daughter up.”

You know it's probably just talk, but the words slam your fucking ovaries, looking up at him, body still twitching from aftershocks.

“You can still tell me to stop,” it's like he wants you to say no, because he can't say no to you. But how the fuck can you, when all you can think is how badly you want him? “You're not going to, are you?”

You shake your head and he sighs as the limo comes to a stop. He gently fixes your outfit, caring and sweet in his quick, sure gestures, pressing little kisses across your brow with so much tenderness you feel yourself melting ever farther into him. The elevator ride instead of pining for you is spent touching you, grabbing your ass, hearing you moan, kissing you deeper and deeper, everything he’s held back falling apart.

He loses all his control he had left when the door shuts, and he turns you, letting his jacket fall to the floor. He carefully brushes your hair over your shoulders, his fingers going to the zipper on your dress, you’re trembling as it slides down, breath catching as his knuckles slip across your skin. He murmurs your name softly, the way it sounds in his husky tone has your cunt clenching all over, thighs pressing together.

“I want to see all of you, put all the pretty pieces together,” his words make you feel so nervous then, looking back at him, hovering so tall behind you, shadows cast across the door in the dimly lit suite. Just two little lamps by either side of the bed cast their glow, while the whisper of silk against your skin, but he hesitates. “Do you want me to, sweetheart? To see all of you?”

“Y-yes, I do.” He trails a thumb across your chin, exhaling as he moves lower, kissing your lips again, your back exposed.

“Do you know your back got me hard?” You flush, almost giggling then. “Think that I’m kidding?”

“A back, though? Is it pretty?” You ask teasingly, he slips the dress straps down your shoulders, they fall to the floor, pooling around your ankles, he steps back then, taking it in, fingers along your spine sending shivers across it.

“Very, very pretty.” His hands slip lower, pressing against the dimples of your back, thumbs pressing in as you arch for him, until they hook against your panties, cupping your ass just perfectly. “Turn.”

You do exactly as he says, trembling in front of him when you’re bare aside from those panties, for just a moment you hesitate. Satoru Gojo has indeed been fucking as long as you’ve been alive, and you’ve seen so many of his girlfriends over the years. Beautiful, elegant, some of them models, so for just a moment your arms cover yourself up a little, hands holding your breasts, heart hammering in your ears.

“Oh honey, you’re fucking beautiful, okay?” He whispers, lowering them gently, watching the prettiest tits he’s seen bounce as they’re released from your little fingers. You relax, he watches it, the tense hold easing, your thighs spreading apart for him as he runs his hands down the curve of each tit, pressing against your rib cage. “Perfect.”

“Oh, Satoru…” You lean up and yank him down by his tie, already askew, slamming his lips to yours again. His hands grip your hips now, tugging you so close, you feel his hot, heavy length against your tummy now. “Mnh!”

“Beautiful, every bit of you,” his words are as intoxicating as his touches, as he touches your tummy with his hand and pulls back, smirking. “Can’t wait to watch me fuck your insides up, see my cock here.”

“See your… are you insane? It doesn’t do that?” He chuckles now, kneeling as he presses a kiss on the softness of your tummy, slipping your panties down and then looking up at you.

“You’re cute you know, hold on to me,” you do just that, balancing yourself as he slips off each heel, leaving little kisses on your knees, like he’s worshipping you. His breath hits your oversensitive cunt, you jerk as he takes your ankle and rubs it gently, where your heels left a mark, standing again. “One last shot to stop me, before I fill you up so much you can’t sit at that piano bench without remembering.”

You’re done then, kissing him hungrily as your answer, he lifts you up, thighs pressing around his hips as he carries you, still fully dressed to his room, his bed, the cold metal of his belt brushing against your overheated skin. His lips don’t leave yours, your hands entangle in his silken locks, when you feel his heavy weight, and he’s laid you against the soft plush of the mattress.

He hovers over you, letting you undo his tie, your fingers quickly tugging at his buttons, dying to see more of him, feel him on you. “Eager, sweetheart?”

“Shh, lemme see you,” he stands up then, sliding off his now unbuttoned shirt, tugging it out of his slacks, you barely bite back a whine at how gorgeous he is, his chiseled frame and lines and shadows where every strong muscle lays. Your lips start pressing kisses on his chest, hearing the click of his belt as he pulls it off. “God, Satoru…”

He’s leaning down and kissing you again, while your hands find his cock, your tummy tenses with how big it is in your hand, hot and heavy. You look down, leaning back against the bed on your knees, swallowing when you see it, leaking pre - veiny, thick and heavy, so big you’ve never seen one close. You almost wonder if it’ll fit, but you’re so wet you know you’ll just make it.

You’re lapping at the milky precum at his tip when he’s fully naked, earning his groan, but then he stops you, laying you right back on the bed. “Satoru!”

“Not this time,” he was not about to cum in your hand or mouth, and act like he’s some young kid touching pussy for the first time. But if you started sucking him he thinks he’d not even last long, judging how tight your cunt was around his fingers. “You can suck your cunt off after.”

You’re flushed at the thought, he chuckles a bit now, braced over you, holding his cock at the base and running his tip between your puffy lips now. You’re arching them up, his mushroomed pink tip pressing inside your tight ring of muscles, already pulsing around him. His groan is husky, while he tries to keep some semblance of experience and control for you, not bury himself inside in one stroke.

But as soon as he sinks in, you’re already done for, so ready from his mouth in that limo that you’re close to cumming from an inch of him, when there are at least eight more that need to stretch you out. “F-fuck… god you’re so tight, loosen up baby.”

“Can’t, fuck put it in me,” he glares at you. “Please, I can take it.”

“I’m not gonna hurt you… or is that what you want, freaky little brat?” You can’t help but blush again, when he eases back, making you whine out. “You really think you can take all of me in your tiny little cunt?”

“Yes I - ah fuck!” He’s barely half in, the next stroke stretching and filling you, smirking as you’re already fucked out from that, he feels your cunt gushing, trying to accomodate the thickness of him as your eyes lock on his. Your mouth is wide open, he tilts your chin up now, pulling back once more, shoving in deeper.

“Thought you could take it, hmm?”

“I can… oh my… god you’re…” you’re drooling when he starts fucking you, not going all the way, but his ridges and veins of his thick cock are stretching you so good. He’s swiping that drool from your mouth, feeling you already trying to milk him, little cunt just steadily dripping down on him as he moves.

“Cunt drooling, mouth drooling, aw baby…” he’s taunting you, but all you can do is whine out, head falling back against the soft pillows, when he grips your chin with his free hand, resting on his elbow beside you, the other grabbing a thigh. “Feel me everywhere, don’t you?”

You’re nodding, helpless now, as Satoru sinks deeper, fucking impossibly deeper, bottoming out as much as he can until he’s snug against your cervix. You’re a desperate mess underneath him as you feel the pressure there, feel so full you can’t think, eyes locking up with his dark ones - so dilated you can only see a ring of that pretty blue now, thighs shaking on either side of thick, muscled hips.

“Can you take it all, really?” He asks, taunting and devastatingly sexy, you’ve never felt anything close, not just his size - any of it, the way you’re so wet you hear it in the room, the fullness all over.

“I want it all.” Your answer ruins him, your sweet little hands pressing against his back, and that’s when Satoru finally loses that final thread he’s holding onto.

“Then I’ll give you all of it, baby,” his words are like the sweetest wine dripping from his tongue, and Satoru shoves as deep as your cunt allows him, you scream out and he groans, leaning back and grabbing your hips. He watches the bulge of your tummy as his huge cock wrecks you hungrily. “Look, since you thought I couldn’t.”

“H-huh?” He tilts your chin - and you see it, his cock moving inside you, you’re so lost in the filthy image of it, right before Satoru snaps, and lifts your hips, fucking you hard.

His strokes are mean, thick cock bullying your walls, pushing you closer and closer until you’re about to fall off the edge. You’re dizzy, spots blinding you, while he uses you, the sounds filthy in the suite, the slapping of skin, the clicking and squishing your soppy cunt is doing, while he pounds inside you over and over. It’s dizzying and maddening, you knew he would be good at it but nothing prepared you for this.

How could you prepare for him pressing on every spot, his precum leaking against your cervix, so much delicious pressure, you’re gripping the sheets tightly, while his heavy weight presses against you. Tears prick your eyes from how good it feels, being fucked like this, something you never knew you’d feel, stretched out for him and helpless - you want to be helpless too, you want him to take over. 

He lifts a thigh then, slipping impossibly deeper and leaning up on a knee, whispering your name when he toys your clit. “Satoru!”

“That’s it, you like this don’t you?” You nod, a loss for words, just desperate, hoarse little cries as he rolls his hips just so, rolling his thumb at the same time, and everything tenses, tightens. “Ah ah, don’t fight it, lemme feel you cum. Now.”

You’re shattering for him, while he just pushes ever so slightly, you feel like you’ll break, the release hitting in your tummy and spreading everywhere, your legs quiver and your eyes roll back. The orgasm crashes over you, even more intense than what his mouth did in that limo, cunt spasming around his length as you’re tightening around him, arousal making his thick fingers slippery as they keep the pace.

“That’s it, perfect cunt trying to milk me, isn’t she?” You can’t speak anymore, Satoru’s strokes slow down as he watches your reaction, your pretty face and that slutty o your mouth is in, enjoying every bit of it, the way you look beneath him. Hair spread everywhere, pretty tits bouncing as your back arches. “God, look at you like this.”

“Satoru… that was… it’s so…” you breathe out senseless words, jumbled and mixed with your whines as he takes his finger off, pressing it against your lips.

“Suck,” he orders softly, you take his thumb in between your lips then, doing just that, watching how dark and intense his eyes are as he starts moving again, picking up speed and force, hips jerking as you twitch underneath him. “Not done yet, sweetheart, wanna feel you cum over and over.”

You’re so sensitive now, so close again, embarrassingly fast now that in just minutes he’s learned what you like better than anyone ever has. “Ngh!”

“Made f’me, this perfect cunt, isn’t she?” He grips your chin, you nod, wordless underneath him. It feels like it is made for him, as he thickens deep inside, you feel it with your gummy walls contracted around him. You can feel yourself building up again, and he grins, white teeth just glinting as he braces his arms over you. “Again?” he asks, a smug grin playing on his lips, “You’re so easy f’me, huh?”

You are easy for him, but you don’t even get to answer, not when he slams his thick cock inside you again, and your nails leave crescents against the taut skin on his back, the pain just making him harder, thicker, leak more precum. “Oh my god… m��gonna…”

“Want all my cum, don’t you sweetheart?” He whispers, you nod then, eager and desperate for it, he kisses you messy, you taste yourself on his tongue, mixed with something so sweet, something utterly Satoru Gojo. “Do I need a plan b tomorrow? Nothing’s making me pull out of your pretty little cunt.”

“On… p-pill…” He grins again, brushing your lips with his thumb, seeing how swollen and bitten they are.

“I’d do it anyway,” you gasp, but you’re close again, and he knows it, hands lifting your thighs until they’re pressed right against your breasts, folding you in half under him. “Need you to take all my cum, can you sweetheart?”

“Y-yes, please…” He feels it then, his cock starting to spurt deep inside of you, and you’re flooded with warmth, with hot puffy white ropes shooting inside you. “Ah! Satoru!”

“F-fuck, feel you,” he’s lost then, all his heavy weight on your thighs as his huge hands press in, his cock pummeling your cunt as she tries to shove all that cum back out, dripping down in a mess between you. “Fuck you’re perfect… god you’re beautiful…”

For a moment it’s not self sure, mature Satoru Gojo, he’s whiny and desperate, sensitive as he moves, kissing you and cupping your face gently, even as he’s stretching you out, even as he’s got you in the meanest mating press. His sweet little nothings against your lips mean too much, it all is too much, your eyes so rolled back you can only see the vision of him, while the aftershocks rock through you.

He eases your thighs down, breaths heavy, looking down at you then, easing your thighs down just enough you can breathe. You both look at each other, quiet in that moment, realizing just what you’ve done, and you can’t find a single regret or ounce of fucking guilt - not feeling that for the first time in your life. Feeling so much pleasure you’re twitching, trembling, as your cunt leaks more and more down his veiny cock.

“Fuck…” Is all he really manages, when he realizes one thing.

You just ruined him.

He rests his forehead on yours for a moment, and it says everything he won’t say out loud, that it’s not just sex. He doesn’t have to say the words to you, not when you feel it, what he’s holding back then. You go to open your mouth, but he shushes you with another kiss, a kiss where you don’t hold yourself back, clinging to him and shaking underneath him, little whines drunk by his lips.

“That was fucking insane,” is all you manage, he chuckles then. “What?”

“You think I’m done already? You’re so cute. Talking all that talk, too, tsk.” He shocks you then, pulling back, cock slipping out, dripping along the blankets below, before rolling you over, his hand smacking your ass, making you yelp at the sting. “On your knees, now.”

You obey, trembling as he grabs your hips, and he moans, bending down and spreading your plump, puffy lips, watching his pearly cum leak from your cunt. “Ah! Sensitive!”

“Look at your cunt, she’s just so slutty,” he murmurs, lapping his own milky white cum from you then, your thighs try to shut, and he smacks one of them, stinging your skin. “Open.”

“You’re… licking it… out - oh my fuck…” Your last word is dragged out, muffled against the pillow case as you bury your head against it, and his tongue is filthy as it slurps up all the mess he made.

“Fucking taste us together,” he’s lost then, tongue sliding in your hole, swallowing his own cum right down his throat. “Mnh, you’re so yummy sweetheart, aw she’s already so fucked up from me. Can you really take me?”

“I want you, I want you Satoru s-so much…” He’s lost in your words, in your cunt that’s already spilling more juices down his chin, his neck, his fingers, when he slides up, hand entangling in your hair.

“Taste us sweetheart,” he pulls you up then, a hand around your throat. “Open, like a good girl.”

You open eagerly when Satoru Gojo spits his cum inside your mouth, you swallow it down, earning his satisfied groan, while he kisses you, possessive, fingers so long they take over your delicate neck. He takes his cock, still so slick with your juices, and he enters your sore little cunt from behind.

“Oh my g-god… fuck…” your head falls back, as he fucks you on your knees and his, yanking you down deep, his free hand touching the bulge his cock makes.

This is even more intense, you can feel everything, the way he’s stretching you out, the way he’s hitting your spots - every spot you have. The meaner his thrusts, the louder you hear it, your slutty cunt, your ass slapping against his thighs, the way he’s gasping in satisfaction.

“Look how fucking big I am compared to you, huh?” Satoru whispers, his breath hot on your neck, wrapping one arm around your waist as he drags you down on his cock, his huge body taking you over from behind.

“S-so big - mnh!” Your head falls back against his chest, now slick with sweat, and he groans, using his strength to move you up and down his cock, bulging your tummy more and more.

“Use you as my toy, fucking perfect, pretty little cocksleeve, huh?” You’re soaking him, filthy words you never thought you’d fucking hear melting your mind. “Is that what you want?”

“I want it, use me.” He lets out a soft cry, pressing you back down on your tummy now, he’s prone over you, taking over all your senses.

“Use you, what if I keep putting cum inside you, sweetheart? All fucking night?” He’s lost inside you, the way you clench around him, milk him, teeth sinking into your neck, feeling you tremble underneath him.

“Use me then, cum in me all you w-want - ah! I w-want it, please,” he’s biting harder, now kissing it like an apology, as his cock fills you everywhere, you feel so full, the way he is everything over you, as you’re so small underneath him, feeling his strength as he moves. “Cum in me again, I can take it.”

“You can take it, huh? Are you so slutty just for me?” You nod eagerly, when he turns your face and kisses you, drowning in you with desperate moans, cock bullying your walls and pushing you over the edge. “That’s it, lemme feel you again, fuck you’re so tight sweetheart.”

You’re cumming with him this time, pushed further when the white coats your walls, god he cums more this time if it’s possible. He’s holding you so tightly it’s hard to breathe – but you don’t want to breathe. When he kisses you, the mix of his cum and yours is heady on your tongue, his hand cupping your chin as he pushes a still hard cock in deeper.

“You take me so well, honey, y’know that? Perfect fit f’me,” his words ruin you, his messy, sloppy kisses, you’re taking several shaky breaths, eyelashes fluttering as you try to focus. “Fucked out, aren’t you baby? Did I make you stupid?”

“You’re a freak,” he chuckles then, kissing up your neck, as you’re struggling with how full you still are. “You spit in my mouth.”

“You liked it.”

“Shh,” he chuckles again, and you giggle, it feels too natural, too perfect, when you look up at him. “You ate your cum out of me.”

“You loved that,” you nod shyly, and he smirks. “You’re acting all experienced, then blushing over that?”

“That can’t be normal behavior, ngh!” He pushes in again, and you’re struggling to take him, whining out. “God no way again?”

“What, you thiought I don’t have good stamina?”

“It’s too good - mnh!” You kiss him as he moves, and you’re shaking. “I’m so sore though.”

“Are you all right, is it too much?” He instantly stops, concern on his pretty features.

“I want all you give me.” He moans and kisses you again, softer, easier with his thrusts deep inside you, reaching around to press a hand on your tummy, fucking his own cum deeper and deeper inside you.

“You’re so full, aren’t you baby?” Baby, fuck that ruins you, all you can do is sniffle, tears falling from pleasure. “Full here?”

“So full - full of your cum - ngh….” You’re lost under him, you don’t even know how you make another round, cleaning him up finally with your mouth, your tongue, his cock dripping with both of you later.

“Your mouth… god…” he’s watching your head bob up and down his cock, as you clean him up, swallowing all the cum that’s spilled greedily. “I’ll fuck you again if you don’t stop.”

“Again!?” You earn his chuckle at your cute little fucked out look, clearly exhausted at this point.

“Why don’t we stop for now, before I really fuck you up, I’m trying to take it easy on you.”

“Easy on me!?”

“You’re cute,” he kisses you now, sighing as he tastes himself on your plump lips, glossy with his cum. “Sure you can handle me for the next few days?”

“I’m gonna try.” You’re so cute he can’t stand it, smiling and brushing your hair back, noses nuzzling.

“You need to go to the bathroom, and you need water,” he runs his fingers down your spine as you lean over him, hair falling like a curtain over the side of your face, brushing against his chest. “I’ll get you some, you go pee.”

“Go pee? Satoru, are you looking after my health?”

“Of course, don’t need Julliard fucked because you get a uti. And you look like you’re about to crash out.”

“I am tired,” you admit, he kisses you then shocks you, picking you right up in his arms. “You don’t have to carry me!”

“It’s nothing,” he’s got you in there in moments, pressing a little kiss on your head, and nothing has ever felt better than how wobbly your legs are, how much you enjoy his kisses, his care. “I’ll be right back.”

You do as he says and pee, sore as fuck – not just your cunt, it’s literally every inch of you, tingling, weak and yet - perfect. Satoru comes back with a brush and pony tail, some boxers slung low over his hips, and a bottle of water, along with one of his dress shirts. You eye him in the mirror as he slips it over your shoulders.

“Do me a favor and wear this,” he asks softly, you eagerly slip your arms inside it, leaving it just barely covering your breasts. “Knew it.”

“Knew what?” You ask, yawning then, eyes heavy from what his rounds have taken out of you. He gently detangles your hair as you fiddle with the buttons, hands shaking still.

“You’d be sexy as fuck in this,” you gasp as he tugs at a knot. “Sorry, you’ve got a bad one there.”

“You were yanking my hair,” he snorts, easier as he brushes it now. “You don’t have to do all that, I can get it.”

“I want to,” he murmurs, your eyes meet his in that mirror, your hands against the cool ceramic of the pretty sink. “Can’t fuck you like that and not take care of you.”

No one has ever taken care of you after, in fact your shitty experiences tended to end up with you rushing away, hopping on one foot to get dressed and disappear while they’re snoring. You choke up a bit, realizing that you’ll have to let this go before you can even get used to it.

Was it better to have experienced this, and know what you’re missing, or would you have been better off not knowing how perfect he was? How perfect everything about you two together was? The thoughts fade as he methodically brushes your strands, tugging them up into a pony tail, before wrapping his arms around you, tugging you against him.

“You’re quiet now, do you…”

“I will never regret this, ever,” you answer his question, turning to him then, sighing as you look up into his eyes - a shade of blue you’ll never be able to truly describe. “I guess I’m dreading the end of it.”

He is too, but he can’t say it.

How does he not even feel bad, he should, right? That his best friend since middle school trusts him with his daughter, and his cum is pouring from her hole? She’s covered in his marks, her lips are all bitten and red, and she’s wearing his shirt? All he can think are possessive, insane fucking thoughts instead.

He doesn’t ever want anyone else to have you.

And that’s the dumbest fucking thought he’s ever had.

“You need rest, okay?” You nod in agreement, as you sip more of the water, when he walks you over towards your bed, however, you hesitate. “What’s wrong?”

“Can I um… sleep with you?” He pauses then, and you instantly worry. “Shit, is that too far?”

“No, I just…” He sighs, toying with the pony tail now, studying you.

“It’s okay, I’m sorry,” you turn and then he shocks you, picking you right up again, carrying you back to his bed. “Satoru!”

“You can sleep with me, better not snore or hog my blankets.” You giggle at that, all fucked out and adorable when he plops you in the bed.

“I won’t, promise!”

“Uh huh, I heard you snore last night.”

“Only because I was drunk!”

“Mmhmm,” he tries to act nonchalant, but when you snuggle up to him, and he holds you in his arms, your face buried against his chest, it feels too perfect, too right, holding you there. The feeling in his chest tightens - as he still feels literally no fucking guilt.

He’s waiting for it, for something, but all he wants is to bury his cock inside you again, to kiss you again, to keep you right by his side. You sigh and wrap an arm around him, a leg thrown over one of his long ones, when he covers you both with the soft, thick comforter.

“Good night, Satoru.” You look up, planting a kiss on his chin.

“Night, sweetheart. Go to sleep.” You do just that, but the sinking feeling hits both of your chests - how do you only make this a couple of days?

There’s no option but to separate, but laying in his arms perhaps will just make everything hurt more when it’s over.

Kofi link if you wanna buy me a glass of wine 🍷

tags- @valentinegab3 @vinnababy @sakisworld @satorupied @lolliibunny @coralbae @lnette04 @delightfulstay @zephyairies @flowerymenendez @yomama2089 @chocoyanchan @hargun-s @ic-slxt @lovelytwixx @lily-bisque @sirencholia @etosh0e @yesdere @luciferlikesducks @frankoceanfan9911 @sukunaslilsocks @dientesdefresa @maah-sama @amesenseii @lem-hhn @keiiate @ttrinity @monster-effer @coffinboy666 @neliislost @thequeenofcurses @inzanekillian @gojoswaterbottle @melotter @buckturd @artbligh @msniks @shibataimu @macchianikato @neohoestechnology @levislug @trsh-kitty @satsattoru @erisfayred @gh0stgirl333 @silverfangmarks @smashlyn89 @hwngez

[kentosbento]

The Great Cock Revelation.

AKA: The Divine Dicking.

A/N: ..... :) this is one of the best things i've written. NOTE: the image that used to be there was from Leviathan

warnings: smut, reader is unhinged, i wrote this in like... two hours don't judge me okay. pls enjoy. crack fic.

Divine Dicking series: Toji Version.

It starts, like all great love stories, with capitalism.

You're high on the fumes of a sales pitch victory, both of you still breathless from verbally suplexing some smug execs into a PowerPoint grave. Nanami had his sleeves rolled up and a vein in his neck doing numbers. You had your killer blazer on and that one shade of lipstick that says I will gut you with kindness and sue your mom after.

And now—now you're kissing him against your apartment door like he’s the last cigarette before a storm.

"Keys," you gasp, fumbling in your bag. Nanami’s mouth is on your neck, and he’s groaning like he’s the one being devoured. You finally get the door open—and almost die tripping over Chairman Meow.

"Jesus Christ—!" "Sorry—!" "Mrrrow." (Translation: "Degenerates. Sluts. Whores.")

Nanami stumbles inside, flustered, apologieses to the cat-fucking bows to Chairman Meow. What a man.

You kick off your heels. He’s already unbuttoning his shirt like he’s on a goddamn calendar shoot and doesn’t even know it.

The door SLAMS behind you two like it owes someone money. Nanami’s tie is already halfway undone—his usually pristine shirt untucked, hair slightly mussed, his jaw still clenched from arguing with that smug bastard in the blue suit at the pitch meeting.

“You were incredible,” you gasp, practically climbing him as he backs into the hallway.

He’s got a hand around your waist, the other fumbling for his keys, voice low and wrecked. “You almost bit that guy’s throat out. That was the hottest thing I’ve ever seen.”

“He interrupted me, Kento. Three times.”

“You called him a ‘corporate barnacle.’”

“I blacked out. You were so hot when you took off your glasses to glare at him. Like—like an angry CEO in a smut fanfic.”

“I don’t know what that means.”

“Shut up and get naked.”

He does. Oh boy. He does.

Clothes are shed in a trail from the door to the bedroom—somehow his belt ends up slung over the doorknob like a weird congratulatory ribbon. You’re down to your bra and panties by the time he kicks off his slacks, now fully, gloriously nude in the dim bedroom light.

You’re on him again in seconds. It’s messy and chaotic and a little too desperate to be graceful. You kiss like people starved. Your jacket hits the floor. And then it happens.

He steps out of his slacks. And you see it.

You freeze. Actually freeze.

Your bra is still on. Your panties, slightly askew. And yet—you are transfixed.

Nanami, confused, halfway to naked and very much at full-mast, pauses mid-unbuckling. His brows knit together in gentle concern.

"...Did I—?" He looks down at himself. "...Is something wrong?"

You're staring at his dick like it's a riddle sent by the gods. Like the Sphinx herself was like ‘Solve this or perish’ and you’re like ‘no notes, it’s art.’

"Wait," you whisper. Then louder. "Wait."

Nanami straightens up like he’s about to apologize for existing. "If I’ve misread—"

"No, no—" You blink. "Kento."

"Yes?"

"You have the prettiest dick I have ever seen."

A beat.

Another beat.

"...What?" His voice cracks. The most composed man in Japan? Sounds like someone’s nephew trying weed for the first time.

"Sir," you say, voice now absolutely reverent, like you’re kneeling in church. "That is a spectacular cock. I’m talking… museum exhibit. I want to commission an oil painting."

Nanami looks down at his dick like it just betrayed him. "I— It’s just... normal?"

"You’re HUNG." You gesture vaguely. "Like, intimidating but inviting?? Like a gourmet baguette?? And it’s got this, like… curve?? But not aggressive??" You’re approaching it like you’re giving a TED Talk. "And it’s veiny but tasteful. Like an artisanal sausage. It looks like someone designed it in CAD. This is aesthetic porn. You’re like the Apple product of penises.”

He covers his face with one hand.

“I—okay—what does that even mean—”

“Sleek. Sexy. Expensive. Makes me want to take out a second mortgage.”

“...You’re insane,” he mumbles through his hand.

“No. You don’t get it. This is top-tier dick. S-tier. If I had to Yelp review your dick I’d write an essay and get banned for erotic content.”

“…Would you like me to put it away?” he offers helplessly, and you lunge at him like he just suggested burning the Mona Lisa.

“Don’t you DARE. I’m trying to memorize it. I need to be able to describe this in vivid detail to my future ghost.”

“I didn’t know you were this—vocal.”

“I’m usually not! But you just revealed to me the Biology Textbook Gold Standard and I’m spiritually unwell now.”

Nanami sits down on the edge of the bed, dragging a hand down his face while his ears go progressively pinker.

“You’re making me feel like an exhibit.”

“I would pay admission.”

He groans.

“…Are you okay?” he asks again, voice wrecked.

“No. I’m not okay. I’m so turned on I might cry.”

Nanami covers himself with his hand, flustered beyond belief. "I— Are you… mocking me?"

You gasp, scandalized. "Sir. SIR. I would never disrespect this weapon."

He stares at you like he’s buffering. Naked. Hot. Kind of turning red in the ears. And then your panties hit him square in the face.

You fling your bra next. "C’mon, pretty boy."

"Wait—"

"Make me s-cream."

Nanami just stands there, bare-assed, holding your underwear like he’s Hamlet with the skull. For a second. Just a second. And then?

He pounces.

*-*

There’s a moment—like, a literal fraction of time—right before Nanami’s mouth touches your inner thigh where you realize:

You are no longer a civilian. You are at war. And your opponent has a tongue made of pure fuckery and finesse.

You are whore-iffic™, yes. A certified menace to society. And Nanami? Nanami is quickly realizing he has never met this version of you before.

You’re both half-melted, hands all over, kisses searing and ravenous—you’ve already made a complete meal of his collarbone and probably whispered more obscenities in the last ten minutes than your entire life combined.

Nanami’s currently got you on your back, legs parted, and his head buried between your thighs like he's been sent on a goddamn pilgrimage. He’s slurping you down like he’s being graded.

You’re gripping the sheets like they insulted you. Voice wrecked, laughing a little, eyes crossed.

“Fuck—Kento—holy shit, you eat pussy like you’ve got something to prove.”

He groans against you, deep and smug, like a man who knows. One big palm pins your hip down as your legs twitch around his shoulders.

“Do I need to slow down?” he rumbles against your thigh, voice a little hoarse.

“You slow down, I riot.”

You’re a menace. A beautiful, writhing menace.

“God, I love your thighs,” you groan, sprawled out and already halfway to speaking in tongues. “Thick and useful. Like sexy architecture. Structural integrity: ten out of ten.”

Nanami doesn’t even respond. He just presses a kiss to the meat of your thigh like you’re some ancient deity he’s preparing a blood sacrifice for. His hands are huge and firm, spreading you open with reverence and intent.

You’re basically already vibrating when his tongue finally hits your clit, and the first thing out of your mouth is:

“Oh my fucking God.”

Nanami hums. Literally hums. And your soul exits your body like a power outage.

“Again. Do that again.” Your fingers tangle in his hair like a medieval witch trying to hex him. “Oh my GOD. Oh my GOD, I love your mouth. Do you understand the fucking havoc you’re causing right now?”

He looks up from between your legs—glassy-eyed, lips wet, jaw slick, like an erotic Renaissance painting—and he still has the audacity to look calm.

“You taste good,” he says. Like that’s a normal thing to say while actively devouring someone’s soul via clit stimulation.

“I love you,” you say immediately.

“I know.”

And of course, because you're... well... something to behold, you pant:

"You're built like a Renaissance wet dream. Like if Zeus wore slacks.”

He pulls back just enough to catch his breath, panting slightly.

“You're speaking in tongues,” he says, dazed. “You're delirious.”

“Your titties are beautiful,” you whisper reverently, reaching out and thumbing one of his pecs. “Like, respectfully, your chest is immaculate. Peak architecture. If you ever die I’m selling plaster casts on Etsy.”

“I’m not sure whether to be flattered or frightened.”

“Be both. Be flattred. Be flenlightened.”

“You’re a menace.”

“You’re bending me in half like origami, and I’m the menace??”

“Let me stretch you out,” he says suddenly, voice ragged, mouth swollen, pupils blown like he just sniffed a line of you. “You’re soaked, but—fuck, I don’t want to hurt you.”

Oh.

Oh, okay.

You don't blush—you detonate.

He’s gentle, of course. One finger, then two. Talking you through it, whispering praises, kissing your knees, your stomach, your mouth. The whole thing feels almost sacred—except for the part where you keep begging like a little freak.

Ten minutes and three orgasms later, you’re a limp, breathless maniac, and he’s dragging two fingers through your slick pussy like he’s checking the consistency of a fine sauce.

“We're still going to need to stretch you out more, darling,” he murmurs, voice wrecked and patient, like a man about to do carpentry. “You’re tight.”

“You say that like it’s my fault,” you pant.

“You’re small.”

“You’re hung.”

“…I am, yes.”

“Say it.”

Nanami blinks. “Say what?”

“That you have a monster cock and it’s going to ruin me. For science.”

“...I’m not saying that.”

“I will.”

“Please don’t.”

“Oh my GOD your dick is a paranormal entity. They’re gonna have to call in experts when I’m done. I’m gonna have to get baptized again. I’m gonna see colors no one else sees.”

“...I’m going to get the condom.”

He leaves, finally, because someone (read: him) is responsible. And where is the condom, you ask?

In the back pocket of his pants.

And where are his pants?

Why, dear reader—Chairman Meow is sitting on them. Loafed up. Judgey. Fluffy. Full of vibes.

Nanami crouches. “Chairman,” he says gravely. “Please move.”

Chairman Meow blinks. Does not move.

Nanami squints. “I need the condom. For your mother.”

Chairman Meow yawns.

And then—it happens. The ancient ritual. The sacred standoff. Nanami vs. Cat. It’s primal. It’s biblical.

Eventually, Nanami emerges victorious. Slightly scratched, holding the condom packet like a trophy of war.

He returns to the bedroom and there you are, staring at the ceiling, half delirious, mumbling: “He’s bringing it back, I know he is, my brave soldier—My brave warrior… you went to battle for this pussy.”

He leans down. “I always go to battle for this pussy.”

You shriek. He kisses you.

He tosses the condom onto the nightstand. “Your cat challenged me to a duel.”

When he slides in— Let’s be real: it’s like being reformatted. Your whole OS just blue-screens.

It’s not just big—it’s mean. It’s got curve. It’s got grit. It’s got a mission statement. But he’s so gentle—until he’s not. Until you ask for it, beg for it, praise him like you’re high on him (you are) and then?

Then he breaks you apart like bread and eats you like communion.

You make a sound that can only be described as a corrupted angel weeping.

“OH my FUCK,” you gasp. “You’re—holy shit—you’re up in my lungs.”

Nanami groans, slow and controlled, breath caught like he’s physically trying not to unravel. “You’re so fucking tight.”

“Because you’re massive, Kento. This is structural intrusion. I’m getting renovated. My cervix has filed a complaint.”

“You’re doing so well,” he murmurs, brushing your hair back. “You’re taking it so well. So good for me.”

Reader, you whimper. You bite his shoulder. A soft, horrible little mlem like a feral animal tasting skin for the first time.

He freezes. “Did you just—bite me?”

“You taste like a wet dream, Kento,” you hiss. “I am OBSESSED with you. I love your titties.”

“…Again? My what??”

“Your chest. Your titties. Let me hold one. You’re so tittylicious.””

You grab it. Cup it lovingly. Like a devoted worshipper touching the sacred relic.

Nanami chokes. “You’re a menace.”

“And your ass?” You slap it. “So firm. Love that for me. Incredible. Firm. Excellent jiggle. I want to write poetry about your ass.”

He raises an eyebrow, nibbles your throat. “…Poetry?”

“Let me sonnet your cake, Kento.” You mumble against his lips after pulling his face up.

“You are insane,” he says, and thrusts hard.

You black out for a second. Reboot. Reincarnate. Moan like a sacrificial lamb.

And still, he’s so fucking patient. So goddamn sweet. Like he's not packing a weapon of mass destruction between his thighs.

*-*

By the end, you’re puddled. Soup. A boneless, twitching, happy little slut pile. Nanami collapses beside you, chest heaving, looking less like a salaryman and more like he just emerged from a goddamn vision quest.

“Everything hurts,” you mumble dreamily. “But in a good way. Like spiritual muscle soreness.”

Nanami just hums, wrapping an arm around you. “I’m glad.”

You roll over, a noodle. A soup. A formerly living person.

“You okay?” he murmurs, brushing hair out of your face.

“I’m soup,” you mumble. “You made me soup, Kento. Like. Emotionally? Physically? I am jus. Broth.”

“…That’s not a sentence.”

You reach up, boop his nose.

“You have the prettiest dick I’ve ever seen. And the best titties. I’m in love with you and your whole situation.”

He chuckles. Kisses your forehead.

You nuzzle his chest. “Hey.”

“Hm?”

“Let’s do that again tomorrow.”

“…I might be the one to need to need to stretch this time.”

A/N: this is pure crack. live laugh love or wahtever. also i still have no beta reader so apologies if this has mistakes.

Massterlist.

:)

[kentosbento]

Pavel Yudin

Mentions of prostitution. AFAB. Smut 18+

He is oddly familiar. 

A prim and proper uniform; the only mess being the flat tresses of his hair that tangle from what seems to be a constant tousling done by the man himself. There’s also a creasing between his brows like he’s thinking, or maybe reflecting, arms and legs crossed with a stern poise. His whole look can cut through you; especially the shine of a metal eagle that is glued to the head of his lieutenant’s hat– a straight-out-of-the-handbook Bremen officer. 

A Bremen pig. 

You had found your seat first on the train, and he had made his appearance quite loud and clear with the sharp stomping of his boots against the wood of the floor. There was one other face that you had seen from him, which was the flirtatious smirk that he had given you upon choosing his seat across from you. 

Handsome, yet horrifyingly so, evident in the scars and muscles that he seemed to wear with pride, alongside his medals and pristine Lugr. 

“A sight for sore eyes.” was all he had said before looking you up and down, as if undressing you with eyes, and then flitting his attention to the scenery outside of the window, almost as if you were never there in the first place. 

It is the second time that you meet him, where you witness his more grimy flirtations, climbing out of the bunker with Abella. 

“The pretty girl from the train,” he smiles at you, “and the mechanic I see...both are welcome tastes for my palette.”

Abella had tried to intimidate him, but the mention of his ‘itchy trigger finger’ had quieted her down. 

“As for you pretty girl, what a sweet thing, found the key huh…such a good girl for me.” 

You breathe in when you hear him say that, gripping at the hem of your skirt. 

‘Amusing’, he thinks. “Lieutenant Pav, at your service. Remember that name well.” 

He was alluring; a loud distraction to the horrors of Prehevil, well until he opened his mouth to threaten you. 

It isn’t until the second day of the festival at the town’s shopping district, where you meet him again. Both of you are more roughened up since the last meeting–you had lost Abella, and had encountered Karin who spat at the ground when hearing you mention Pav. He, on the other hand, had a few smaller and fresher cuts, with the occasional bandage here and there. 

“Truly miraculous that we see each other again isn’t it doll? I honestly thought you’d have been long dead by now.” 

You finally decide to say your first words to him; “And I thought you’d have found the Kaiser by now, colour us both surprised.” 

The safety flicks off his gun, a shot rings out but it never reaches you. 

“Now how do you know about that?” he snarls. 

Wild and erratic laughter fills the streets.

Pav grabs hold of you and pulls you both into what looks like a speakeasy, gun pointed at the foggy surroundings until the doors close and lock. 

He flings you into a sofa, and he takes a gander at the drinks at the bar, picking out a scotch and pouring himself a glass, making himself at home. He reloads his gun. 

“Answer my question, or I'll put a bullet in your head.” 

You try to keep still and emotionless, putting your fear into gripping the armrests of your seat. “The beggar. For a shilling she told me of a green soldier headed for a goal with the Kaiser– didn’t know she was telling the truth till you pulled the gun out fucker.” 

“Foul mouthed wench, you’re lucky you interest me.” 

“Thank you for your mercy.” You spit back. 

He chuckles then takes another swig of scotch, leaning closer and closer to you. 

“You’re familiar to me…I never forget a face, but I’m having trouble with yours.” he says, grabbing at your chin and inspecting. 

Then it clicks in his head. 

A prostitute from his time in Rondon. A soldier had made an unsavoury advance and he had shot the fuckers hand off. 

What a small world. 

“Far from home aren’t we?” he smiles, but you say nothing in return. 

Another swig, “I want to kill the Kaiser.” 

“And how on earth do you plan to do that?” you prod. 

“Sheer will and determination doll. If I kill him, I’ll avenge my family. If I don’t, I join them. Either option is fine, but if the chance to kill that thing is there…well I’ll sure as hell take it,” Another swig, “and what might you be doing here in Prehevil?” 

Your hands clasp together in your lap, and the candles waver slightly.

“Running away.” 

“No one bought you out yet? Shockingly cruel of them.” 

“But it’s exactly that! I am still a thing you can buy!” you scream, rising from your seat and heaving slightly. 

Another swig. “Well can I not pay for your company then?” His hands brushing against yours. 

“If you don’t pay, then I get to do whatever the hell I want.” 

-

Underneath the tiles of the speakeasy were the heavy breathing and hurried kisses between you and him. He kissed with such fervour; like you were a lifeline he had to hold onto, while his hands travelled to unbutton your shirt and grip at your sides. Your hands did the same, feeling up and down the grooves of his chest and abs, teasing at the building bulge in his pants. 

“Will you…hah…put less effort in… if I don’t pay you?”

You silence him with another passionate kiss. “Mmm…Whatever the hell I want…hah… remember?

Finally unbuckling his belt and tossing it aside, your fingers deftly move up and down the thick vein on his shaft–teasing, which makes him let out a moan against your neck, “S-so fucking good."

Your hand begins to fasten its pace against his whole cock now, all while the two of you continue to feel up against each other. 

“S-shit s-stop…please…” he groans, pushing away your hand. 

“W-what’s wrong? Am I not doing good?” 

“No! Gods no…but if you kept at it I definitely would’ve cum. The only place I wanna do that is on this though…” softly running his fingers across your navel. 

“Then do it.” you challenge. 

He wastes no time in spreading you wide– “fuck, already so wet for me…so perfect…”, pushing his long and thick fingers into your pussy, prodding at indescribable pleasure. 

He takes his fingers out which make you whine, however they are replaced with a sharp thrust of his hips, pressed impossibly deep into your own. 

“So fucking tight…beautiful…so good for me.” he groans, setting an animalistic pace, as though he were marking you. His touches were rough and harsh, but it was passionate and feisty which made you reach your climax faster and faster. 

“P-pav…I’m gonna cum…!” 

“F-fuck baby, do it…do it on my cock please…” 

After that, you release with a loud moan, back arching off of the bed. He follows suit, pulling out and cumming on your stomach.

He holds you close, and lays by your side, playing with your hair. 

For now, you and Pav can pretend like the world only exists within the confines of PRVHL Bop, and that everything you two needed was the space shared between the two of you. There was no Kaiser and there was no Termina.

-

First fear and hunger fic! love pav sexy sexy man.

[kentosbento]

warnings: nsfw🔞, doctor/patient, gynecologist geto, pervy geto, dub con, medical kink, sexual misconduct, this is a long one~

“doctor geto will be in momentarily,” the nurse nods at you politely before slipping out of the room quietly.

you breathe out deeply in attempt to calm your nerves, turning away from the door to gaze at the tiled ceiling. the cheap gown you had to change into crinkles at every breath, only working to raise your nerves even further. it doesn’t help that you’re completely naked underneath, you even tried to keep your panties on at the very least but the nurse explained that they’d be taken off eventually anyways. you assume removing them on your own is preferable compared to having them ripped off of you by a doctor you’ve never met before.

you’ve always avoided the gynecologist, having heard horror stories from friends and family, and you were successful for twenty two years of your life— until now. apparently you were due for your first check up at twenty one, the recommended age for women to start getting checked, but you had dodged it when your primary physician recommended it.

but after a very bad, unsuccessful attempt at losing your virginity, you figured it’s time to make sure everything is okay down there. your face still burns when the awkward memory of your date attempting to push his cock into you for almost an hour and ultimately failing flashes within your mind. you can still hear him mutter, ‘i like tight but that’s just not normal.’

three brief knocks to the door snap you out of your nervous daze and you shoot upright, gown and protective sheet under you crinkling obnoxiously with your movement.

after a respectful moment, you clear your throat and put on a polite tone.

“come in!” and you cringe at the sound of your shaky voice as the door clicks open.

your face drains of blood when a tall, dark haired man slips in, wearing a long white doctors coat. you had almost thought he was a woman because of the long length of his hair but it quickly became obvious that‘s not the case due to his features and large form.

immediately he smiles in a respectful manner before turning to the sink in the corner to wash his hands.

“hello, y/n. how are you today?”

you’re incredibly stiff as you eye him sanitize his hands, silently racing through possible excuses you could use to get out of this. sure, you were a bit apprehensive about this whole thing before but you were willing to try— that is until a man walked in. you figured men weren’t even allowed in this profession considering the obvious, most not having the same genitalia, but apparently you were heavily mistaken because he has that natural bulge in his dress pants indicating he most definitely doesn’t have a vagina. you have no idea how this could be appropriate.

“um yes, good,” you trail off, blinking rapidly as he swivels the stool closer in front of you and settles onto it with a satisfied grunt, manspreading seemingly comfortably. “are you the uh- doctor?”

he hums with a nod and gently gestures to his name tag reading, ‘dr. geto.’

now your head spins, thighs pushing closed as tightly as possible while you unintentionally clench the white sheet under you.

he seems to notice your nervousness, though he had already picked up on it even before he entered the room—having seen you tapping your foot in the waiting area. he understands that it’s perfectly natural to be anxious before an appointment like this, especially as a young woman. according to your patient intake form, this is your first time at the gynecologist, your first time in this particular clinic, and your first time meeting him— so it makes sense. but still, your anxiety seems to exceed what he usually sees in his patients under these circumstances.

so he wears a face of concern as he addresses you.

“is everything okay?”

immediately you chuckle, nervously and avoid his intimidating eye contact. it certainly doesn’t help that he’s so attractive.

“i just,” you gulp, “-thought i’d have a woman doctor.”

his concerned face relaxes into an understanding one as he clasps his hands together professionally between his legs with his forearms resting on his upper thighs.

“ah, i see. i apologize for the misunderstanding, this is actually my clinic so i’m the only doctor here. you’re welcome to find another clinic you’re more comfortable with, but i would like to say that i’m a professional and you have nothing to worry about if you decide to stay.”

“oh! i um- don’t doubt your professionalism, i’ve just never done this before and..” you drift into silence, eyes flickering up at him briefly as a harsh heat litters your cheeks and neck.

“completely understandable to be nervous for your first time, but i assure you, you have nothing to worry about. i’ve seen many, many bodies on that very bed, and i’m quite used to it.” he smiles, comfortingly and though his words are meant to ease you, they do the opposite. they only work to remind you of the imminent threat of baring your naked lower half to the attractive man in front of you.

as if sensing your rising nerves, he speaks again.

“why don’t we just start with some questions? we don’t need to do an examination unless you want to.”

you sigh in relief and nod timidly, shoulders relaxing as you let go of the paper underneath you. though it’s still nerve wracking to tell him about why you’re here, it’s much less intimidating than the stirrups beside you.

a smile grows on his face as you nod and he claps his hands together gently in preparation.

“great. let’s start with why you’re here today— a regular check up or do you have a specific issue?”

you gulp, fingers fiddling in your lap. “well i have an issue, i guess.”

he hums and nods to urge you on as he adopts a focused expression.

“i’m worried i have some sort of- i don’t know- infection maybe?”

“i see. are you having symptoms?” he questions as you grapple with the vulnerability of this.

“uh- not exactly. i had a,” you pause as your gaze flickers up at the ceiling in attempt to explain the situation without exposing the whole embarrassing picture, “—situation. i can’t get something big inside of me.”

a moment of silence follows, and you anxiously glance back at his face, worrying that you might not be normal and that this is an unusual issue for him to encounter with patients.

he inhales as he briefly squints in slight confusion.

“i’m sorry— you said you can’t get something big inside of you? are you having intercourse problems?” geto remembers seeing on your intake form that you’re a virgin so he’s assuming when you first tried to have sex, he couldn’t put it in.

you inhale sharply with parted lips as if thinking on what to say, “yes.”

he hums and nods. “i think i understand. just to be clear, your partner— i’m guessing a man—hasn’t been able to penetrate you?”

“mhm. i’m just nervous that maybe something is wrong with me,” you mutter timidly, eyes nervously tracing his face, “i-is this not common?”

immediately he holds his hands up as to comfort you. “well, first of all i’d like to be clear that there’s likely nothing wrong with you. i can’t say i’ve had many patients with this problem but that doesn’t mean i can’t help.”

you chew on the inside of your cheek as you shyly nod.

“is this an issue of lack of lubrication maybe?” he questions with concentration and an obvious genuine desire to help you. as a man, geto knows how most other men are, your ‘partner’ who’s probably as young and naive as you are, likely doesn’t know how to turn you on correctly, doesn’t know the places that make you dripping wet like you need to be for penetration— especially for a virgin.

immediately, you flush even harsher. “oh, i don’t— i’m not completely sure. i don’t think so.” it’s not as if you were soaking wet when you had tried to have sex but you weren’t dry either.

“okay, maybe it’s a not an issue with you. was he able to hold an erection?” he inquires, rolling his sleeves up to his elbows. he thinks it’s much more likely that this guy is the problem, maybe he got too nervous and chickened out before he could even get it in you.

“no, he was hard— i think,” you mumble, recalling the size of his dick was smaller than you imagined it would be. and if geto wasn’t such a trained professional, maybe you’d be able to tell he almost laughed at that.

“hmm, okay. may i ask if you use tampons? if so, is it painful?” he inquires, gently, growing worried that maybe something else is happening here.

“no, not painful really— i mean, maybe a little?” you sigh, unsure and a bit frustrated at your inability to aid the doctor efficiently. tampons are uncomfortable but you’re not sure if it’s an unusual level of discomfort.

“please, feel free to let me know if you’re uncomfortable with answering but it will aid your diagnosis if you can.” he briefs you, as if warning you for the next question gently.

you take a deep breath and nod, making him dart his tongue out briefly as if to prepare.

“do you masterbate?” he asks as if it’s a natural inquiry, and for him it probably is. your stomach tingles in nerves and surprise at the question.

your face heats up as you hesitate.

“kind of,” you shrug, noncommittally as if trying to avoid being too direct with your response. geto’s dealt with his fair share of shy patients, and by now, he's fluent in the 'maybe' and 'sort of' answers—yours being a clear yes.

“that’s very good,” he praises you with a deep tone, making you chew on the inside of your cheek, feet fidgeting against one another as you avoid direct eye contact. “it’s very healthy to bring yourself to orgasm as often as you can.”

you give him a smile that feels mandatory, it immaturely feels as if he knows something secret about you now as he gazes at you for a beat.

“when you masterbate, do you just touch? or do you penetrate yourself?” as his gentle, deep tone utters the word penetrate, you gulp, his eyes dancing down to flicker at your small fingers fidgeting against one another.

you nod stiffly with eyes on the floor. “both.”

“with—?” he trails off, head tilting a bit in attempt to observe your reaction to gauge your answer.

“my fingers,” you timidly explain, quickly brushing a piece of your hair behind your ear in a nervous habit.

“okay,” geto hums a chuckle, making your eyes dart up at him in question, “that’s great, really great.”

before you can ask why that’s so great with furrowed brows, he inhales deeply and his eyes lock back on you.

“and does this bring you to orgasm?” he asks gently, oddly comfortingly.

you can’t help but laugh awkwardly in a sort of nervous habit, making his grin grow in tandem to your laughing.

“is that funny?” he coos in amusement, as if playfully questioning a cat about the thrill of knocking over a glass.

you immediately shake your head no with a concealed immature smile.

“sorry—”

“—don’t apologize,” he interrupts your obviously casual apology as if it were a serious one, “it can be awkward to discuss things like this, i acknowledge that. especially with a man twice your age, just act like i’m one of your friends.”

you gulp, your obvious naivety feeling much more pronounced now that he’s reminded you of your difference in maturity.

“okay. how um— specific do you want me to be?”

his response is immediate, “as specific as you’re comfortable with. the more information, the better.”

you inhale deeply and squint at the ceiling as you think on it.

“well, i can cu— orgasm easier when i play wit— i mean stimulate my clit,” you stumble over your words, nervously.

he hums slowly, making the humiliation you already feel grow within yourself.

“how often do you play with yourself?” he asks, and for a moment, your eyes widen, fully aware that he’s using the exact words you were hesitant to say, afraid they’d come off as inappropriate.

you bite your lower lip subtly, briefly glancing at the floor. having to recall such intimate details while an attractive man with those sharp eyes watches you—it’s impossible not to squeeze your thighs together under the weight of the topic.

you remind yourself it’s silly to think this way—he’s a trained doctor, just doing his job, trying to innocently help a young girl. but still, you can’t shake the feeling— no man has ever asked you about something so intimate with such focus, as if he genuinely wants to understand what brings you to that intense high of pleasure.

you know it’s all in your head, that he’s actually being professional, yet a small part of you wonders if his role as a doctor ever follows him home. does he recall the patient who can only reach orgasm while playing with their nipples as he makes dinner? or does he keep those details neatly tucked away, never letting them blur the lines of his professionalism?

your gaze shoots up to him when he gently calls your name, pulling you out of your thoughts to check if you’re okay.

“oh sorry,” you huff sharply as you shake your head briefly, “maybe four times a week, it helps me sleep.”

“i see,” he clears his throat, adjusting on the stool briefly, “and how long does it take you to reach orgasm when you’re playing with your clit?”

you press your palms against your face, trying to mask your embarrassment as you avoid his gaze for a moment, the weight of his question hanging in the air, making you swallow hard.

“i dont really know,” you mumble, “i guess it depends on how uh— into it i am. sometimes five minutes, sometimes twenty.”

“that’s perfectly normal,” he smiles and allows for a beat, making you nod back in acknowledgement.

“does it hurt when you use your fingers inside?” he asks, making you hum in thought.

“sometimes,” you shrug, shyly.

then he takes a deep breath as if preparing to explain something to you. “well, it’s quite difficult to know for sure without an exam but there is a condition called vaginismus where the muscles around the vagina tighten involuntarily, making penetration difficult or painful.”

immediately you gulp and your brows pinch in worry. geto thinks you’re such a sweet girl, it pains him to worry you.

“i-is there a cure for that? if i have that, will i never be able to have sex?” you question eagerly, the embarrassment of speaking such words fizzle into worry for your wellbeing.

"don’t worry, there are effective treatments available to alleviate symptoms if that’s truly what the problem is but to diagnose you and or treat it will all require me to examine as well as—touch your vaginal area,” he explains with slight sympathy, seeing how your expression changes into one of terror as he speaks.

“fuck,” you mutter to yourself, hands running down your face in preparation, “okay, fine. just help me, please.”

the idea of never being able to have sex like a normal person scares you— not to mention the fear and embarrassment of having to tell any boyfriends in the future about your potential condition before dating. even though this doctor is a man and in retrospect, you could find another place with a woman doctor, that might take a few days to verify with your insurance before even booking an appointment. you’re sure this condition isn’t time sensitive for treatment based on what he said but you aren’t sure if you can sleep tonight without knowing what’s wrong with you.

he smiles kindly. “great, i understand this may be uncomfortable, but please know that i’ll prioritize your comfort and provide the highest level of care. you can trust me.”

you exhale shakily and nod with a small, polite smile.

“um- do i just,” you stutter, gesturing towards the stirrups and leaning back on your palms awkwardly.

he huffs softly in amusement but cuts himself off. “i know the stirrups can be intimidating so lets just start with lying back and relaxing.”

you nod with a shaky sigh as you lie back, your calves and feet dangling off the edge, staring up at the dull, off-white ceiling once again. before he approaches you, you hear him opening a cabinet and grabbing something from it.

he then approaches your side, adjusting the bed so that it raises a bit considering he’s so tall. he then slides out a foot rest that elongates the bed, gently picking up your calves and aiding in placing them down on it so you’re lying flat.

“i’m going to start with checking your blood pressure, heart rate, all that boring stuff,” he lightly jokes with a silly, kind smile making you huff despite your anxiety.

you watch as he proceeds to un velcro the blood pressure cuff, hold it with one hand, and then lay the other hand on your covered thigh. “this doohickey goes around your upper thigh, unfortunately it’s more accurate that way. is that okay?”

it’s evident he’s trying to make the situation more comfortable by calling the blood pressure cuff a ‘doohickey’ while mentioning that he needs to expose your upper thigh for this.

“o-oh, i guess,” you stutter, gaze flickering down nervously.

“great,” he smiles before gently sliding the hem of the gown up his finger tips leaving goosebumps in their wake, making you snap a hand down onto your covered pussy to keep the gown in place with a gulp.

he simply smiles down at you, eyes eerily intense as he gives you a moment to hold the gown down with fluster.

“good, keep your hand there,” he says as if he was the one to suggest it.

he then gently wraps his hand around the back of your knee and lifts it to a bent position.

“how old are you, y/n?” he questions, obviously just making small talk considering he already knows your age from your intake form.

he then secures the cuff around the upper part of your thigh, brushing his cold hands against the cuff and, inadvertently, your surrounding skin, causing your thigh to clench briefly.

you clear your throat and blink, “i’m twenty- two.”

then he begins to pump the pressure cuff, making you slightly grimace at the pressure.

“i’m surprised you haven’t had an exam yet,” he voices, eyes on the meter with a respectful, gentle smile still on his face as he concentrates.

“oh, i just— get nervous, i guess.” you shrug as he stops pumping and squints his eyes at the meter.

“that’s unfortunate, it’s important to get annual checkups for prevention,” he says, slim eyes flickering at you briefly. he says it in a tone that clearly conveys his professional expertise, yet carries a hint of amusement, like a parent gently reminding their child about the importance of good behavior in public.

“i know, i’ll try to be better about it,” you say shyly as he begins to slowly pull off the cuff, making sure to briefly rub against the indents it created in your skin. you can’t help but inhale sharply at the feeling of his large warm hands basically massaging your upper thigh, so close to your most intimate areas.

“good, feel okay?” he asks with concern, referring to your upper thigh.

“mhm, totally fine,” you say, politely making him take his hand away from you.

he then makes his way to the cabinets in the corner and starts rummaging through it once again, seemingly looking for something.

your brows furrow as he sighs and makes his way back to your side, placing one large palm against the middle of your thigh.

“unfortunately, my silly nurse forgot to order the new medical grade stethoscopes so if it’s okay with you, i can use my hand. it’s probably more efficient this way anyways,” he asks you. his tone is so gentle and sweet that it’s just impossible to say no, after all what’s the harm, he’s a doctor.

“sure, whatever works,” you nod, making him smile in gratitude.

in a professional manner, he extends his hand and places it flat against the left side of your chest. his large hand covers most of the area, pressing down on your left breast, causing you to feel a surge of embarrassment and look away from his gaze. you glance at the door nervously as he presses into your breast slowly and with pressure. the act makes you feel as though you’re doing something wrong or taboo. if one of his nurses were to walk in right now, you wouldn’t know what to do.

he then hums in a conflicted manner after a moment, making your gaze flicker to his face in question.

“i can’t feel your heart through this pesky gown,” he sighs, making your heart rate immediately skyrocket at the insinuation. he seems to notice your nerves.

“oh, don’t worry, you can keep the gown on. i can just reach under if you’re comfortable with it? i’ll be quick,” he asks in a kind, professional way that makes you feel as though he’s genuine. still, you can’t help but feel hesitant.

“oh, i don’t— um— is it really necessary?” you ask nervously, chewing on the inside of your cheek with pinched brows.

“well, it’s important to make sure your heart is healthy and beating in a natural way,” he explains, kindly.

you fall silent, knowing that if he feels your heartbeat under the gown, his large hand is bound to directly touch your left breast. the thought is nerve-wracking—maybe in movies, this would be a fantasy scenario, but in real life, the idea of it is anything but romantic; it’s frightening.

“you know what? let me ask my nurse if we have any old stethoscopes,” he says after a few moments of your silence, attempting to comfort you.

you nod gently with a sigh in brief relief and he begins to walk to the door.

he peeks his head out and calls over his nurse.

“do we have any of our old stethoscopes in storage maybe?”

you can’t hear the nurses response but you can assume it’s not good news because doctor geto sighs, although he’s naturally soft in his demeanor and tone, you can tell he’s frustrated with his nurse.

“first not ordering the new ones in time and now this? at this point, i should just hire a monkey to do your job.”

his words shock you, you can’t help but feel sympathy for the nurse as they respond to him. in fact, you feel so guilty that you gulp before calling doctor geto’s name.

hearing your call, he turns to you with a kind smile.

“yes?”

“uhm actually— i change my mind. you can do it under the gown. it’s no big deal,” you stutter, wearing a face of faux nonchalance. in retrospect, maybe you should have held your ground and refused to let him do as he pleases, doctor or not, but it does seem a bit silly to care all that much about your breast when he’s going to be face to face with your pussy soon enough.

immediately, he blinks at you with raised brows in slight surprise.

“are you sure? i can try to find something else or—”

“—no, no. it’s really okay,” you interrupt him, adding a casual huff to add to your calm persona.

“oh great, i deeply apologize for the inconvenience,” he smiles at you, pinched brows in a slight pout as if he feels sympathy for you.

you nod and shrug as to wave off his apology.

then, he shuts the door, not even notifying his nurse before making his way back to hover over your side.

he then carefully and slowly slips his hand beneath your gown through the neckline. you shiver at his touch that trails to your left breast. his gaze is locked on nothing in particular in the distance, attempting to concentrate.

your brows twitch and your lips part slightly as he gently feels around the fat of your breast with his fingers, pressing into the area where he believes your heart is, searching for the spot where he can feel it most clearly. though you’re trying so hard to keep your heartbeat at a normal rate, your attempt seems to do the opposite, making it skyrocket. considering the anxiety of the uncomfortably bright room with a hot male gynecologist who’s hand is down your shirt, it’s not completely ridiculous that it’s a bit faster than normal.

you notice his addams’s apple bob when your nipple brushes against his cold finger. you on the other hand, can’t help but gasp shallowly and sharply, jolting a bit at the sensitivity.

“you okay?” he questions, as if he doesn’t even know why you reacted that way while your nipples rapidly begin to harden from the chilly friction.

“yeah- yes. of course,” you nervously jut out, attempting to take advantage of his ignorance to avoid the embarrassment and his gaze.

he hums before taking a few moments to push into a specific area of your breast to listen to your heartbeat and record the amount of beats per minute.

after a minute of silence, he hums. “are you nervous? your heart beat is quite high— 130 beats,” he questions with concern, allowing a moment for his hand to rest on your bare chest as if he’s attempting to comfort you before sliding it out.

“sorry, yes,” you mumble, trying to ignore the fact that your nipples are likely poking through the gown.

“hmm. though quite fast, i’d say your heart rate is perfectly normal. blood pressure is fine too,” he offers you a kind smile as he gently slides the extended part of the bed back in, leaving your calves and feet dangling over the edge once again.

next, he makes his way out of your sight, making you eye the annoying ceiling once again.

you fight the urge to sit up and see what he’s doing as you hear the roll of the wheeled chair, his footsteps, and the snap of latex gloves.

“have you removed your underwear?” he smoothly inquires, making you nod quickly and utter a ‘yes.’

“do you have a boyfriend, y/n?” he asks kindly, moving to stand in front of your legs now. it’s clear he’s trying to distract you in an effort to help you relax.

“boyfriend? no way,” you laugh, breathily but still quite nervous as he gently lays a gloved hand onto your outer thigh. you had barely had your first blind date the other day when this problem started, much less a boyfriend.

he lightly chuckles with you briefly. he assumes you had tried for a one night stand sort of arrangement when you ran into this little problem of yours.

“oh yeah? i’m going to put your feet into the stirrups now, okay? i apologize if it’s cold,” he voices, allowing a moment to wait for your nod before gently sliding his hand from your thigh down to wrap around your ankle. you appreciate his decency to vocalize before doing something.

you gulp as he carefully places your foot onto the stirrup, followed by the other foot. a sudden rush of cold air fans your warm folds, making you shiver as your gown rides up to your hip crease.

as he positions you, he moves to stand between your legs, and you feel the fabric of his long coat brush against the inner parts of your thighs. if he weren’t standing as close as he is, your exposed vagina would likely be quite visible to him. you can see him wearing a relaxed expression above you, watching you to ensure you’re comfortable.

he then taps the outside of your right thigh gently, causing a ripple of goosebumps to race down your leg.

“doing okay?” he asks, leaning in the smallest bit to better face you. his closeness causes you to stiffen in embarrassment.

“y-yes— mhm,” you nod quickly, attempting to fight off the heat that’s creeping up on your face and neck as you avoid his hovering gaze.

“i’m going to sit now,” he gently warns you, indicating that he will be face to face with your pussy once he sits down. you nod in acknowledgment, even though you realize he likely doesn’t see your response.

the rolling chair comes to a stop directly in front of you and as he takes a seat with a deep breath, you shut your eyes tightly and clench your fists by your side, aware that he can now see everything on full display.

“i’ll need to touch both externally and internally; is that alright with you?" he asks, prompting you to make a breathy sound in embarrassment, your eyes remaining closed in anxiety.

“oh, inside too? okay,” you gulp, stuttering over your words.

“just tell me if you’d like me to stop and i will, immediately.” he speaks professionally as he places one hand gently on the mid part of your inner thigh, the unexpected touch causing you to gasp quietly in shock despite his warnings.

“right, okay,” you exhale shakily as he moves his hand down your thigh. he then uses two fingers to gently separate your folds, exposing a glimpse of your entrance. you can only assume he trailed his hand from your thigh to your labia to considerately allow you to anticipate the touch.

“there we go, looks good so far,” he voices with lighthearted concentration. and even though you know he’s talking about your external genitalia looking healthy, his wording still makes you blush even harder— part of you assuming immediately that he means aesthetically. if the man between your legs wasn’t as attractive as he is, you likely wouldn’t react as you are.

“i’m going to press down on some areas and you tell me if it hurts, alright?”

then as soon as you mutter an affirmation, he releases your folds and gently presses two large fingers on your clit, forcing a jolt of electric arousal to briefly shoot through your body, making your thighs jerk a bit.

“d-doesn’t hurt,” you inform him as you make an effort to keep your legs open.

“great, and here?” he questions, moving his fingers down to press on the area just above your enterance opening.

your brows twitch, teeth sinking into your bottom lip to fight off the surge of heat running through you. a beat of silence ensues, attempting to calm yourself.

“uh no,” you quickly answer before your silence becomes suspicious.

you hadn’t anticipated feeling aroused during this process, especially with your friends’ accounts of the pain and discomfort from various metal contraptions that they shoved into them. however, doctor geto’s voice is undeniably soothing, not to mention he looks more like an idol than a doctor.

“excellent, and— here?” he asks again, this time pressing on the area between your pussy and your second hole.

it’s a bit uncomfortable, but you’re pretty sure that’s just because it’s an awkward area.

“no, not painful,” you explain, grimacing a bit at the feeling.

“not painful but-?” he questions, sensing your hesitance to explain further.

“um, it’s just uncomfortable. i’ve never been touched there, it feels weird,” you mutter quickly, humiliated to even admit that to him.

he huffs in a slight laugh, “okay, now i’m going to feel around your labia to feel for any abnormalities. just relax.”

immediately, you begin to blink rapidly with pinched brows as he runs two fingers through your folds, starting at your clit and sliding down to your entrance before swiping back up and repeating. with every slide of his fingers, your abdomen tightens and relaxes, while your toes curl and uncurl gently. your hips instinctively shift, responding softly to the sensations coursing through you.

“feel okay?” he asks considerately, in his cooing tone, only escalating your perversion, making you hesitantly pull your hand away from your mouth to respond.

“i-it feels g- fine, yes,” you breathe out, mentally cursing at yourself for almost admitting how good it feels.

you know this is an examination, but it’s the same type of stimulus that someone would use with the intention of pleasing you. it’s shockingly alluring and terribly taboo, making you feel equal parts shame and euphoria. you try desperately to think of anything gross or weird to turn off your rising arousal but it’s futile— maybe it would work if you weren’t so inexperienced, but you simply are.

he hums, long and soft as he continues to examine you with his large two middle fingers.

“this boy you were seeing,” he begins, barely working to pique your attention that’s glued to the way his cold gloved fingers feel against your folds, “was he able to bring you to climax with his fingers or anything else?”

your breathing deepens, eyes lidded in relaxation as you blink slowly, trying desperately to focus on answering your doctor.

“not really,” you pause to sigh deeply in relaxation, “he touched me over my panties but i didn’t cum or anything.”

your nervousness fades with each glide of his fingers, your attention shifting from the worry of saying the wrong thing to the sensations he creates. with each gentle drag, you find yourself speaking as if to a close friend, your walls crumbling as you become more absorbed in his touch.

his gaze is locked to your pretty lips, which are beginning to glisten like a flower kissed by morning dew as he brings your leaking arousal through them. he notices the way your clit is stiffening and twitching beneath his touch, a subtle sign that he should ignore. he should have moved on to the next part of the examination, but he can’t resist the allure of your hips instinctively rolling against his touch. he senses that you’re likely unaware of your own body’s response to grind against his fingers.

he emits a soft, displeased ‘tch’ at your answer, shaking his head as if disappointed in humanity.

“as your doctor, i advise being cautious with boys your age,” he speaks with a casual smoothness as you nod eagerly, eyes closed and teeth biting your lip, more a reaction to the escalating pleasure than to his words, your thoughts floating in blissful disarray. “unfortunately, they can cause some real harm to your body and lead to some serious issues.”

when you don’t answer, basically drooling in your own world, he speaks again.

“you want to ensure that your lovely anatomy remains in good health, don’t you?” he urges, his subtle compliment making your closed eyelids flutter as a tingle shoots through your lower abdomen, your back arching slightly.

you can’t tell if it’s just your imagination, but his fingers apply more pressure against the sensitive underside of your clit briefly as he speaks, sending a quick jolt of almost painful sensitivity coursing through you. it feels as though he’s intertwining his touch with the weight of his words, punishing you for your hesitation to respond and reminding you of the folly in even considering a fling with an immature guy.

you close your eyes tightly and quickly press a palm to your mouth as to not accidentally expose your perverted arousal growing impossible to ignore. the way he’s touching you so gently, its obvious he knows his way around pleasing a woman in his personal life— even if he’s simply feeling around for something potentially concerning.

“right,” you quickly babble stupidly through the muffling of your hand, “you’re right.”

it becomes painfully clear that you’re growing exceptionally wet because the squelching of your folds begins to echo loudly in the sterile room.

“it’s quite normal for your body to react to stimulus, if anything natural lubrication will aid in minimizing any potential discomfort,” he suddenly speaks on the elephant in the room, you think you can hear a hint of a smile in his tone, but you’re not certain enough to be sure. you were hoping he’d just ignore your growing wetness or even not notice it but it’s obviously too agonizingly obvious to ignore.

“i’m s-so sorry,” you mutter, mortified as you use both hands to cover your face as if that could make you disappear into them.

he chuckles deeply at your embarrassment, “it’s no problem, sweet girl. it’s normal, try to relax.”

his use of a pet name is obviously meant to ease your nerves but it only triples the amount of slick gushing out of you and being collected by his fingers to then coat your folds.

even if you wanted to respond, you don’t because you’re terrified that you’ll accidentally let a moan slip.

“i’m very glad to know lubrication isn’t the issue here, that can be quite frustrating for a patient— having to go on all kinds of pesky medications just to have sex,” he explains, and you’re barely even able to process his words so you simply hum with a frantic nod.

after a few more agonizing moments of his blissful touch, you sigh in relief and unclench your eyes when he finally halts and pulls his fingers away. saying its a relief that he halts his movements is an understatement because you’re pretty sure an orgasm was approaching in the distance if he continued the stimulus a little while longer— though you could never actually admit it to yourself.

“good news, i don’t feel anything unusual on the outside,” he gladly notifies you with a deep breath.

“o-oh that’s good,” you swallow hard, a heat creeping up your cheeks as his words hit home. you’ve been so caught up in primally chasing pleasure that you suddenly feel embarrassed for losing sight of the real reason you’re here: to make sure you’re healthy.

“i need to check internally now, which may cause some discomfort. i need you to take a deep breath and focus on my voice, okay?” he explains, a hint of sympathy in his gentle tone.

his words send your heart plummeting, the arousal quickly fading to the background as a wave of panic takes over. the thought of something unfamiliar or painful being inserted inside you becomes overwhelming, bringing back the humiliating memory of that guy’s frustrated expression when he couldn’t get his dick inside you.

“w-wait— what are you putting inside of me?” you stop him with urgency before he can even touch you again, sitting up on your elbows quickly to see, and you honestly wish you hadn’t because the sight of him between your spread thighs is horrifying and sexy all at once.

your fluster is obvious as he transfers his gaze from your pussy up to your worried face.

"it’ll just be my finger. i know this can be a bit scary," he says, placing a reassuring hand on your thigh, "—but it’s necessary for a proper diagnosis. I can’t promise it won’t be uncomfortable, but your natural lubrication should help. i’m glad we won’t need to use gel, it doesn’t work as well in reducing discomfort during insertion."

you gulp and blink at him with conflict. the idea that it might be painful scares you but the fact that it’s only his finger makes you feel a bit better. but now, not only are you worried about this process, arousal is sitting behind you, eagerly awaiting its turn for attention.

he examines your expression to make sure you’re okay, allowing you to gather the courage to speak.

“w-what if it won’t go in?” you question, timidly. you’re afraid of the possibility that even his finger won’t be able to push past your entrance like that guy, indicating that maybe something incurable is wrong with you instead of a condition that can be corrected.

he immediately smiles kindly at you with a soft sympathetic huff as his hand begins to rub comfortingly up and down your inner thigh. he feels so bad for you, a young, beautiful girl who’s obviously terrified of something being wrong with her body.

“i wouldn’t worry about that, i was already close to slipping into you before,” he coos, attempting to comfort you, making your eyes widen a bit. you think maybe you’re actually a raging pervert because his unintentionally lewd words make your chasm clench in need, forcing a bit of arousal to gush out of you, slowly begin to slide down to your other hole, and pool under you to inevitably drool down to the floor.

you inhale shakily and deeply before nodding.

“j-just go slow, please.”

he gently allows his sleek eyes to come close to shutting as he smiles at you with consideration and a short nod, but you don’t miss the way his jaw clenches with your words.

“if it helps, you can watch,” he offers, squeezing your thigh gently.

as you nod, he speaks again.

“here.” he raises his glistening, gloved fingers, then gently takes one of your hands and guides it to wrap around his thick middle finger.

“that’s all that will be inside of you,” he murmurs soothingly, his hand still gently holding yours, wrapped around his finger. “not too bad, right?”

the skin between your brows pinches momentarily as you look down at your hand enveloped by his. his finger is so long and thick compared to yours that half of it remains exposed, just beyond your grasp. you can’t tell how comforting that is in relation to the potential pain, but it certainly sends a flutter of butterflies through your lower abdomen.

“y-yeah,” you nod dumbly, “not too bad.”

he smiles and hums, gently taking his hands back to rest one back to your inner thigh while the other prepares to penetrate you.

“i’m just going to gently push past the tight ring of your entrance first, and then i’ll give you a moment to breathe, okay? stop me if it’s too uncomfortable.” his gaze flickers from you, down to your pussy in focus.

your breaths are shaky as you anticipate pain with an anxious pout. your sweet innocence makes his eyes soften as he gazes up at you.

“deep breath in,” he coos, making you breathe in deeply, “and out.”

the second you breathe out, he pushes his finger past your entrance quickly, keeping his eyes on your face as it contorts in a flinch. you gasp and stiffen at the stinging intrusion.

“shh, i know. on a scale of one to ten, how badly does it hurt?” he shushes you sweetly, keeping the tip of his finger unmoving in your chasm while his other hand rubs circles on your inner thigh.

“s-six,” you whine out, fists tight at your sides. the pain feels as though just the tip of his finger has cut open the bottom part of your opening.

“oh no,” he coos, making eye contact with your glistening eyes, “this might help.”

he then uses the hand on your thigh to gently rub circles into your clit, making your lips part as your eyes close in tandem with your brows raising softly in surprising comfort.

the way he moves against you now feels distinctly different from when he was simply examining your labia. his touch is more precise, focusing on the top sides of your clit, gently coaxing the hood to glide up and down instead of applying harsh pressure directly onto your clit. it’s as if he’s deliberately ensuring that each movement remains soothing rather than overwhelming, carefully avoiding any intensity that might tip into discomfort.

and it does help—more than just help, in fact. you can feel your core clenching with a growing yearning for more, pulling his finger in like a vacuum.

“better?” he inquires, still swiping at you as your thighs twitch and toes curl in the stirrups.

“t-that’s— fuck— i don’t kn—“ you whine, pathetically, unable to put your thoughts in order as he continues his work. he interrupts you with a cooing shush.

“good, it’s okay— shh, i’m going deeper now,” he briefly warns you before quickly pushing his middle finger in to the hilt, making you gasp loudly.

“o-ow— hurts,” you whine, opening your pouty eyes to see his low ones already on you.

“i know, i know. but you’re doing so good, sweet girl.” he soothes, quickening his pace on your clit to distract you.

“j-just hurry, please,” you grit out, biting back a moan as you watch him eye your pussy fluttering around his finger.

“of course. i’m gonna start moving and pressing down now. you’ll feel pressure, bare with me.” he explains, licking his lips as your arousal pools around his finger and drools onto the floor. geto is trying so hard to be professional but your virgin pussy is so tight and wet, as if it’s just inviting him in to play.

he then begins to move his finger within you, prodding against every one of your walls with exploration, likely a bit harder than he really has to, making you whine and jolt. when his finger pushes up against your top wall, your pussy clenches hard and you can’t help but let out a surprised whimper.

“so tight,” he breathes out to himself, astonished. it’s as if he didn’t know he said it out loud making your lidded gaze snap wide open at him with concern.

“w-what?” you ask, a flicker of concern washing over you as the possibility of having the condition he mentioned sinks in. what’s usually a compliment to most women feels more like an insult to you now.

his gaze immediately flickers up at you, a bit of surprise lacing his eyes that you actually heard him as he clears his throat.

“oh— nothing,” he chuckles, almost nervously, “you’re just a bit tight down here, it’s difficult to examine properly.”

“oh, you scared me,” your eyes soften and you sigh. he also sighs in relief but not for the same reasons.

“do me a favor and lay back for me,” he softly commands and you obey as you breathe deeply.

“i’m gonna try to open you up, stay down. do not get up unless i ask of you, okay?” he explains seriously, making your brows furrow.

“u-um why?” you ask, curiously.

“you’re much more open laying down. i’m about to push harder against your walls and i’m afraid it will hurt you if you sit up,” he explains, slightly breathy. you nod at the ceiling and gulp in preparation.

then, he takes his fingers off of your clit and replaces it with something warm and wet. and at the same time, he begins to move his finger inside of you, curling against your top wall harshly.

you gasp out in shock, gasp only turning into whiny cries as the wet thing on your clit begins to move against it. it almost feels like a tongue licking at your clit like an ice cream cone but you quickly shake your head of that idea; he’s a doctor, he’d never do such a thing. you wouldn’t know what a tongue feels like on your pussy anyways so you dumbly assume it’s one of their contraptions to help with penetration. and fuck, does it help.

still, you find yourself biting your bottom lip harshly as your hands softly hit against the bed under you in attempt to cope with the aggressive administrations to your insides. you wouldn’t be surprised if your lower tummy is twitching in a bulge, showing how vehemently he’s striking your top wall.

and when a shameful orgasm begins to approach with haste and you whine in panic as your back arches against your will.

“ngh!— stop! i’m— stop!” you plead, trying your best not to close your legs or sit up in fear of it being painful like he warned.

his movements halt abruptly at your begging, pulling the wet thing away from your clit and stopping so his finger is unmoving inside of you.

geto doesn’t need to ask what’s wrong, he knows how your body works and the signs of your approaching orgasm are more clear than most of the women he’s fucked.

“i’m so close to finding what i need, are you sure you’d like me to stop?” he inquires, voice deep and raspy. you aren’t entirely sure because of how aggressive his finger was moving inside of you before but it feels as though it’s still so subtly moving in and out of you, keeping your orgasm just teetering on the edge.

you’d rather die than admit you’re close to orgasm in a doctors office and in a paper dress with your feet in stirrups so instead, you make up an excuse.

“it just— hurts and—”

“but if we stop, i wont be able to diagnose you, y/n. are you okay leaving here today without knowing? i’d like to help you, but you need to let me,” he coos, almost impatiently. his words spark a bit of anxiety within you, making you feel as though it would be your fault if you don’t gain a proper exam.

you whine quietly, unable to decide. it’s so difficult to think with his digit still inside of you. you aren’t sure if you can even fend off an orgasm if you choose to keep going, but doctor geto’s words make you feel pressure to continue, for your health.

your whine in indecision makes him coo at you, “i know it’s scary— but your health is more important than your embarrassment.”

you know he’s right, though you think he doesn’t know that it’s more than just embarrassment holding you back, it’s more the fear of cumming all over him.

“how much longer?” you choke out, preparing to endure more.

if you were able to see the diabolical smile on geto’s face as you give in, you’d be running out of here and never coming back, maybe even leaving a bad review on yelp.

geto doesn’t behave this way; he never has. he’s always honored the vulnerability of his patients when they lie exposed on the exam table, maintaining an unwavering commitment to professionalism and respect. he understands the trust they place in him, and he’s never crossed that line before.

but with you, everything feels different. you’re not only an attractive young woman; you’re naive, so visibly nervous from the idea of him seeing and touching your most vulnerable spots, and it’s been clear from the second he entered the room that you’re attracted to him. he’s never had a patient so visibly affected by his touch, so sticky and wet, and it’s challenging him to uphold the composure he prides himself on.

“not too much longer; try to relax your body. you’re quite tense around me, but every time your muscles ease up, i get closer to collecting what i need for an accurate diagnosis.”

you curse at yourself mentally as you tap your fingers against the table, “i don’t really know how to make my muscles ‘ease up.’”

he hums, “that’s okay, i can help. what do you imagine when you masterbate?”

your eyes snap wide open at the ceiling and you flush in embarrassment.

“h-huh? what do you mean? why?”

“ah, i know. it seems odd but there’s a study that shows a woman’s vaginal muscles seem to become more flexible when imagining arousing scenarios or situations,” he chuckles, casually.

“oh,” you chirp, hands going to grip the sides of your gown into tight fists.

he allows a beat of silence so you can think on it, relishing in the way your pussy likes to hug his finger every now and then, like it’s begging to be pleased by him.

“i’ll try, you can keep going,” you timidly notify him.

“well, i can help if you’d like,” he says softly, “what do you usually imagine that arouses you the quickest? try to be as specific as you can.”

you swallow hard and shut your eyes, desperately trying to shield yourself from the humiliation of confessing something so intimate to your doctor, tricking your mind into believing it’s just a casual chat with friends like he said earlier.

“i think about,” you begin slowly, “a stranger, a man sitting beside me somewhere in public—”

as you speak, geto starts to slowly work his finger back up to a good pace, cock twitching painfully as your words begin to waver into a whine as he rubs against your g-spot.

“mhm,” he hums, urging you to continue, “and what does he do to you?”

“—he starts to touch me,” you gasp softly, fisting your gown as that wet thing starts to lap at your pulsing clit once more, “and he doesn’t even look— ngh— at me, he just shoves his hand into my panties and plays with me.”

“and what do you do?” he eggs you on, and perhaps if you weren't so caught up in the steadily building wave of pleasure, you might have noticed how when he speaks, that warm, wet sensation is momentarily lifted from your clit.

“i try to stop him by pulling at his arm but,” you let out a breathy moan as the wet thing starts to suckle on your clit, “—but there are so many people around and i don’t want them to know.”

“no, you can’t make it stop,” he coos in faux sympathy, as if roleplaying to further delve you into your fantasy. being so aroused at this point, you don’t even notice him slipping another finger in to join the assault on your guts. “but you can try.”

before you fully comprehend what’s happening, he guides one of your hands down, wrapping your fingers around the wrist of the hand that’s fucking inside you. it feels surreal, as if he’s weaving your fantasy into reality. the warmth of his contracting, veiny wrist contrasts with the coolness of the exam table.

“no, i can’t make it stop,” you repeat his words in a pathetic cry of pleasure, your orgasm approaching closer as his pace becomes violent and the wet thing around your clit start to flick at it abusively while latched on like lips suckling on a nipple. every ounce of shame you have transforms into a disturbingly taboo fuel, amplifying your pleasure in ways you never anticipated.

the only sound in the room are your moans and squelching, but you can feel a deep, rumbling groan reverberate against your clit as your grip on his wrist weakly attempts to pull him out like in your fantasy. before you have a chance to process what that means, your orgasm crashes over you, painting your vision white. embarrassing sounds of ecstasy escape your lips, tinged with desperation, as your nails dig into his wrist, leaving crescent moons in their wake.

your body convulses in a chaotic rhythm, alternating between curling inward and arching outward. each wave of pleasure sends soft involuntary jerks through you, leaving your abdomen taut and quivering.

“that’s it,” he coos against you, and you’re just so fucked stupid on his huge fingers stretching you out that the logic you’d use to deduce that his tongue and mouth is the contraption suckling at your clit evaporates as your high ensues.

as your cries and jerks begin to fade, your fingers loosen their grip on his wrist, and you take deep, shuddering breaths, gradually descending from your peak. he slows his fingers within, matching the retreat of your high, his touch now gentle as the waves of pleasure ebb away.

“you did so good, little one.” he finally withdraws his fingers, letting out a low hum of satisfaction as he brings his tongue to lie flat against your opening. with deliberate slowness, he licks up the sticky essence that escapes as his reward, savoring each rhythmic pulse from your hole. there’s an almost tender appreciation in his tongues caress as he feels your body instinctively attempt to draw in sperm with its contracting muscles. it’s a sight that stirs a primal urge within him, and he can’t help but feel a pang of sympathy for your poor, empty pussy, yearning for that load of cum it so desperately seeks.

you hiss in a mix of pleasure and overstimulation, your hands flying to pull at his soft hair as he grows more fervent, his mouth devouring your lips with an almost primal intensity. it’s as if he’s an animal caught in a wild frenzy, intent on savoring every last drop of you, much like a creature would clean its mate after an intimate breeding. the warmth of his tongue and lips making out with your folds, tracing patterns, sends shockwaves through your body.

“o-ow!” you whine, though it’s more of a pathetic call of pleasure that’s just too intense to handle, “t-too much! doctor geto, please—”

it’s embarrassing, truly, that the call of his professional name is what finally snaps him out of his haze, retracting his mouth from your intimate parts that are now just swollen and irritated with stimulation, drooling a sticky mess onto the tile floor between his feet.

he clears his throat and wipes his mouth with his handkerchief as you let go of his now messy hair and fall back on the bed with deep breaths, eyebrows pinched in utter relief.

after a moment of silence, punctuated only by your labored breaths, he stands and fastens a button on his doctor's coat, striving to maintain a veneer of professionalism while discreetly concealing his raging hard on.

“you did um— very well, made my job much easier. you can sit up now,” he says gently as he softly pulls your legs from the stirrups to hang over the edge of the bed once again, a tint of sympathy in his tone after what he just did to a young, naive, sweet girl.

the way you muster all your remaining strength to sit up, trying to play it cool as if you hadn’t just cum as hard as you did —like he might not have noticed—is simply adorable.

“d-did you find out what i have?” you question weakly with a visible humiliation on your face, he can only imagine how much you’re beating yourself up for allowing yourself to cum as a doctor just simply does his ‘job.’

you gulps and takes a deep breath before peeling off his drenched gloves and tossing them into the bin in the corner and shoving his hands into his pockets as he faces you once again.

“yes,” he nods, “i know exactly what you have and before you get nervous, don’t worry. it’s curable with proper treatment.”

your eyes light up with hope, tinged with relaxation from the afterglow as your legs shake subtly in sensitivity.

“what is it?”

“well, it’s similar to the condition i told you about but this one is a bit different. your vagina needs proper training for a few months,” he explains with utter professionalism, as if the lower half of his face isn’t still wet with your juices.

“w-what kind of training?” you ask with a gulp, fingers fidgeting.

“something called penetration training.”

———

omg that’s so wrong.. me next!

[kentosbento]

NEEDY. | AKI HAYAKAWA

synopsis ━━ you were in need of a roommate, and aki hayakawa needed a place that wouldn't ask any questions. you went to work during the day, while aki worked late nights. you basically had the apartment to yourself. it was honestly a match made in heaven. but then, you just had to come home one day and catch your roommate in a precarious situation. (aki x f!reader.)

content warnings ━━ voyeurism (just a wee bit), sex-deprived aki 🫶, but also possessive + jealous aki, masturbation, dirty thoughts + wet dreams, fingering, praise, multiple orgasms, classic missionary, unprotected sex, creampie, mutual pining/confession, kinda au (we're not mentioning the gun devil arc), aki has lived to see 26 + reader being a similar age, some religious imagery. nsfw (minors + ageless blogs dni).

word count ━━ 5.1k

song inspiration ━━ dealer, lana del rey / friends, chase atlantic / double fantasy, the weeknd

author's note ━━ hi.....hello.........so this idea has been in my head for a little bit, and I realize roommate aus like this are simply not that original, but god dammit I just needed to get this out of my head. anyway, I lurrrrrv sex deprived aki. shout out to my friend hollis for screaming about this with me hehe 💓

The most words you had ever said to your roommate were on the day you interviewed him before he moved in. You immediately noticed that he was strange, but also shy and seemingly harmless. When you had asked why he needed to move in so quickly, he had said something along the lines of a “toxic environment” with his previous roommates: “Denji and Power are just too noisy and reckless. They’re four years younger than me. I need a place less chaotic.” You had been interested in getting to know more – you were curious, after all, about your potential roomie – but once he mentioned that you’d probably never see him because he worked nights, you were sold.

Aki Hayakawa was your new roommate.

He had never been more excited to finally get away from Denji and Power and the tumultuous mess they had turned his apartment into. He was older now; he needed something for himself, even if it was with a roommate. Being a Public Safety Devil Hunter, he needed a place that didn’t think twice about him, a roommate who didn’t ask questions. That’s what he liked about you: your place was on the right side of the city, and you looked at him like he was normal. The Fox Devil said you weren’t going to be good for him, but Aki tended to ignore them anyway.

You had helped him move into your second bedroom just a week later and he hardly said a word, except to ask you who had formerly occupied this space. You were hesitant to talk about it at first, but you cracked soon enough: “My old best friend lived in here. We had rented this place together, but we … aren’t exactly speaking anymore,” you admitted, setting a box down at his feet. “I came home from work one evening and found my boyfriend cheating on me with her. It had been going on for months, right under my nose.” You looked away when you felt your eyes start to sting with tears, sniffling them away. “Friends come and go, I guess. But I’m thankful you, at least, worked out to rent this space.”

“Well,” he sighed, opening up the box as you turned back to him. He smirked. “I promise I won’t sleep with your boyfriend.”

You had laughed, and what a pretty sound it was. After move-in day, Aki was true to his word that you almost never saw him. You worked a normal 9 to 5, while Aki … well, you had no idea what Aki did. You assumed he was a security guard or something with the hours he worked and how he was always wearing a suit and tie. He was working all the time, even weekends. Sometimes, you would catch him coming home as you were leaving for work, or on Sunday morning as you ate breakfast in the kitchen. He would be too tired to talk, simply waving at you before retiring to his room.

It was almost like living alone … except for notes he’d sometimes leave you on the stove or the bathroom. Or the weekend mornings, when he’d get you a coffee and leave it out for you before going to his room. Or the once-in-a-blue-moon nights when you’d stumble in the early hours of the morning after drinking in the city with some friends, standing out on the deck with Aki as he smoked a cigarette. Nights like those, you could’ve sworn Fate was trying to get you two to see each other, because you would be arriving home at just the right hour and Aki would be getting off work early. And you would find him on the deck in his suit and tie, cigarette hanging from his lips, hair pulled up in his classic topknot. He would find you leaning against the railing in nothing but a short dress, the glitter on your lids making your eyes sparkle even more, and – god, you were just so pretty.

After that night, he started dreaming about you. He dreamed about how your lips would feel against his, what it would be like to have you sleep next to him and rest your head on his chest. He was consumed by thoughts of you under him, how you tasted, the way you’d tremble if he kissed that sensitive part of your neck you told him about one late night on the deck. His need for you was insatiable. In his line of work, there wasn’t much time for dating, let alone sex. He hadn’t been thinking about it that much, especially when he’d been housing Denji and Power, but now … he couldn’t stop thinking about you. Naked. Underneath him. On top. God dammit, he’d have you any way you wanted.

It made him wish he had acted on his instincts that night on the deck: pushing you against the sliding door, his lips crashing onto yours, hiking your skirt up that just barely covered your thighs and using his non-dominant hand (the one that didn’t shake) to feel how wet you were. But alas, Aki Hayakawa was a gentleman. 

You two had been living together for a year. He hardly knew you, but also knew you like nobody else did. He knew how you took your coffee – black with two sugars. He knew the brand of toilet paper you liked. He knew that you liked to hang your coats in the closet on the right side. He knew you drooled in your sleep, and what TV shows made you laugh, and how much your water bill was each month.

He was acting out in ways that were unlike him. If he came home from work and saw you had a guy over, he made his presence known. When you were at the office, sometimes he would go to your room just to smell your perfume, and other times he would steal your panties. (He always gave them back, feeling too shameful. But he did keep one underneath his pillow.) Some nights, he would pretend to leave for work early and you would retire to your room for the night, and then he would hear the familiar sound of your vibrator and – fuck, he had to go to work hard. Again. 

You were taking up too much space in his head. He was becoming distracted at work, thinking about what you were doing during these late hours. Maybe the Fox Devil was right: you weren’t good for him.

But he wasn’t moving out any time soon.

It was a Thursday after work and you were completely exhausted. After attending endless meetings and having to argue with coworkers all day, you left work early and were grateful to have a night alone with some leftovers from the night before. You had completely forgotten Aki telling you earlier in the week that he had this Thursday and Friday off, your mind preoccupied with work responsibilities. Sighing as soon as you walked through the door, you set your bag down and shuffled out of your shoes. You shut the door softly, at peace with the silence. You didn’t even have the energy to get out of your work clothes; you simply padded your feet to the fridge, plucking your leftovers out. It was only when you reached up to the microwave that you noticed the apartment wasn’t as silent as you assumed.

Sounds emanated from another room.

You got on your tip-toes, not wanting to make much noise if there was an intruder, and felt for the pocket knife you always kept on your person. Passing by your bedroom first, you popped your head inside. Empty. Hadn’t been touched since you left this morning. The bathroom was next, and you held your breath as the sounds got even more noticeable. You peeked into the bathroom and … clear. Linen closet: clear. Coat closet: clear. But the sounds only became more clear as you got closer to the end of the hall, Aki’s room, and –

You stopped in front of Aki’s bedroom, the door cracked just enough that you didn’t need to pop your head in to see what was happening. Aki was home, for once, and you … you were watching him through the crack in the door. But how could you not? You knew where the sounds were coming from now, because Aki was the one making them.

His dark hair swept in front of his eyes as he sat back against his pillows. He wore a white t-shirt, while his boxers bagged around his ankles. Grunts slipped from his mouth – that pretty, pretty mouth you'd seen wrapped around a cigarette. And his hand … his hand wrapped around his cock, pumping furiously – desperately – with a pair of your panties enveloping the head. The same red lace panties you thought you’d lost months ago. 

You almost considered walking away, making noise in the kitchen so he would know you were home, but then –

Then, your name left his mouth in a whimper.

He was stroking himself even faster, muttering your name into the silent room with your panties wrapped so nicely around his cock. He was thinking about you, wanting so desperately cum in your panties, wondering if you thought about him when you used your vibrator. You were frozen in place, completely fixated on him as he leaned back against his headboard, his face finally exposed so you could see the way his jaw went slack, the way he moaned out your name. And – oh my god, you should leave –

But you couldn’t. And deep down, you knew there was a dirty part of you that always wanted to see this. Ever since that night on the deck, when you were wearing your favorite dress and all that glitter, and you noticed that he was looking at you in a way a platonic roommate definitely shouldn’t. You had started to think about him late nights when you were alone with your toy. You brought home dates, wanting him to see, giggling when you recognized his jealous expression. You tried to wake up earlier, just to see him when he stumbled through the door. Once, you even did his laundry to smell the nicotine on his jacket. 

The two of you simply couldn’t help yourselves.

And when you watched him finally reach his peak, spilling into your forgotten red lace panties, you realized just how wet the ones you were wearing had become. You watched him grunt as he came, breathing heavily and wiping the sweat off his brow. And when he muttered under his breath a soft, “Fuck,” you couldn’t help the short gasp that left your lips.

Aki stalled. Oh, shit. You hadn’t been quiet enough. He sat up more in his bed, pulling his boxers up, and you whipped your back against the wall. You cupped your hand over your mouth, praying he wouldn’t come out and see. But he was whispering, “Who’s there?” And you only had enough time to move ten feet down the hall before you heard the creak of his soles on the old floorboards.

“Fuck,” he muttered, louder this time.

Your back went straight, and after what felt like an eternity, you slowly turned to face him. “Aki,” you put your hands up in surrender, “I didn’t see anything –”

“Oh, what the fuck,” he shook his head at himself, quickly walking back into his bedroom. You were stunned, not knowing what to do, as he continued talking to himself in the room: “Stupid fucking idiot not closing the fucking door. What the fuck? What the fuck? My worst fucking nightmare. Fuck, why do these pants always get caught around my ankles? I need to get out of here. Stay at Denji’s for the night. Fuck, fuck, fuck –”

He emerged from his bedroom, now wearing jeans, his favorite Converse, and a leather jacket. He tried to pass you without looking, whispering obscenities under his breath, but then you were tugging on his jacket, lips pressed together.

Aki paused, cheeks red with both embarrassment and anger at himself, but you didn’t let go of his sleeve. He noticed the redness of your face as well, the black of your pupils almost covering your entire eye, and were you … were you aroused?

Swallowing hard, your voice was but a mere whisper when you asked, “How long have you had those?”

He knew what you were referring to. It didn’t take an idiot. Your stares were locked, and despite his shame, he wouldn’t turn away. “A while,” he mumbled.

“How long is ‘a while?’”

“Months, okay?” His eyes narrowed and his voice took on a new tone. “Now, can you let go of my jacket so I can leave and save us both the embarrassment –”

“Months,” you repeated, licking the corners of your lips. His eyes were made of blue fire as he stared down at you, and even with your office attire on, you felt utterly naked beneath his gaze. “I’ve … I’ve been thinking about you for months too.”

Aki took a moment to process your words, and your grip hesitantly released on his sleeve. But he wasn’t – he couldn’t – let you get away so easily. His breath was shaky as he placed both of his hands on the wall behind you, pinning you to it. So many times had you two passed each other in this hallway, so many words left unsaid. And now, he was pressing you against it.

“You’ve been thinking about me … for months,” he thought out loud, leaning in a little and nosing your hair. Your scent was intoxicating. That perfume … he could cum in his pants just from smelling it. “For months, you’ve been bringing guys to the apartment to … to what? Make me jealous?” He chuckled under his breath. It took him so long to put it together. “For months, you’ve been touching yourself right before I leave so I go to work fucking hard.” His nose traveled down to your neck, grazing that spot you told him about, and you shuddered. “You’ve been putting me through the wringer and I didn’t even have a clue.”

“You’re … you’re not so innocent.” You tried to keep yourself together, but it was difficult with him pinning you to the wall and – oh, he was already hard in his pants, pressing into you.  “You’ve been stealing my panties so you can masturbate with them.”

Aki hummed quietly, pressing his lips so delicately to your neck, as if his cock wasn’t completely strained in his jeans. “I supposed I have,” he whispered against your skin, “for months.”

“Since that night on the deck,” you croaked out, hands balling into fists as he licked a stripe up your neck. If he didn’t stop, you’d surely moan. “But I didn’t say anything – didn’t think about saying anything – because … because we’re roommates.”

“We are roommates,” he said, lifting his head from your neck, his lips hovering so close to yours. “And if we’re just stating facts here, I’ve needed to kiss you since that night.”

You didn’t wait for him. Immediately leaning in, your lips pressed onto his in a hungry kiss. His mouth molded to yours, and he tasted exactly like you thought: like black coffee, cigarettes, those raspberry pastries he always kept in the kitchen. His tongue, slipping into your mouth, tangled with yours in a way that you had only dreamed about. Your hands released from their fists, instead reaching up to twist in his t-shirt, bringing him even closer to you. He’d hardly touched you and you were completely, utterly soaked. 

As if hearing your thoughts, his lips broke from yours for just a moment to beg, “I need to touch you.”

“Please,” you whispered back, and his mouth was back on yours.

He dragged one hand down from the wall (his shaky hand, believe it or not), still pressing you against it, and worked on unzipping your trousers. You nuzzled your nose against his as he kissed you deeply, slipping his hand in your pants, past the waistband of your panties and – you were exactly as he dreamed you’d be. Absolutely wet. Just as needy for him as he was for you. “Fuck,” he muttered into the kiss, spreading your soaked folds with two long fingers. 

Your lips tore away from his, a trail of spit following, because you simply had to release the moan you’d been holding in for so long. Despite loving the way your mouth fitted against his, he was glad for it, wanting to see your face when he started rubbing your sensitive clit. And fuck, was it the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen. Your fists on his t-shirt went loose as your body felt like it was made of liquid, angling into his. Your lips pursed, soft whimpers filtering out as he rubbed you in those tight circles.

“So fucking wet f’me,” he mumbled, grazing his lips over yours. “Dreamed about this for months. Fuck, I’ve gotten hard just thinking about this pussy.”

He finally dipped a single finger inside you, and your hips immediately jerked against his hand. Aki let out a shuddering breath when he felt how much you were squeezing just one finger, pumping it in and out of you slowly. “Please,” you whispered, despite his thoughts, “I can take more. I promise.”

You didn’t need to ask him twice. He shoved two fingers inside you, curling them against that spot that had your hips instantly bucking. “Fuck, Aki,” you whined as he plunged those fingers in and out of you, using his thumb to rub your clit. 

“Yeah?” He breathed. 

“Kiss me.”

Aki moaned from your words alone, kissing you hard while fucking you with his long fingers. He was practically drunk on you: your scent wrapped around him, you tasted like citrus, and the way bucked into his hand … god, he needed to fuck you. So bad. And if you didn’t want that, then he needed to jerk himself off immediately or else he was going to explode in his pants. The last thing he needed was another embarrassing moment tonight.

It only took seconds to have you sighing into the kiss, squeezing his fingers like a vice as you came. His thumb on your clit was relentless, taking you over that lovely peak, as you mewled and cried into his mouth. It was almost religious, the way you moaned, and Aki had never felt closer to God than in this moment.

When the adrenaline subsided, he slowly removed his fingers from you and broke the kiss. You watched him intensely as he brought the fingers covered in your slick to his mouth, tasting you. Your lips fell open slightly, eyes going wide while his own closed, savoring the taste. What the actual fuck, you thought to yourself. How the fuck have we been living under the same roof and it took this long for me to see that?

Without missing a beat, you pushed yourself off the wall, winding your arms around his neck and latching your legs to his waist. He lifted you as if you were made of air, kissing you so that you could taste yourself. Before you could even perceive how much time had passed, you were on his bed, blouse disheveled and trousers undone. Even your hair hadn’t left the updo you put it in every weekday. Your eyes flickered to the right and you giggled to yourself. He had finally shut the door.

His eyes remained on you as he shrugged off his jacket, and then his pants. He was back in the same outfit you saw him in earlier, when your panties had been wrapped around his cock like a birthday present. He hesitated before finally pulling off his shirt, and you saw the scars lining parts of his chest. Definitely not a security guard, you thought to yourself but decided not to ask about it now. You reached up as he stood between your legs, brushing your fingers over the scars, and then dragged them down his abdomen. His frame was thin, but he was more built than you believed, always hiding himself under those oversized button-ups.

He wrapped his hand around your wrist as you touched him so gracefully. “Do you want to …?” His voice was so soft, the question hanging off the edge of his tongue.

And then, you smiled up at him, looking like an angel. “Yes, Aki,” you whispered.

He felt like a kid in a candy store. The only thing – the one person – he’d been dreaming about and looked at him as if he weren’t a machine, or a gun with the trigger pulled, was lying before him and liked him. For months, they’d both said. His dominant hand was shaking as he started unbuttoning your blouse, and when you noticed (though you had observed this the day he moved in), you grabbed his hand and placed it on your cheek. With his left hand and your right, you worked together to undo the buttons until your chest was exposed for him. 

Moonlight streamed through his bedroom, the only light source in a seemingly dark area.  City lights reflected on you as you pulled your hair free from the updo, those pretty strands fanning on his sheets. His sheets. Because you were in his bed. The blinking lights from corporate buildings outside your little apartment created a halo around your head and – fuck, you really were something religious. For so long, Aki thought only hell existed. I mean, all the Devils were here, contracted to them. But seeing you splayed out so heavenly for him on his bed, he knew then that Angels had to exist too. 

He took his time taking your pants off, watching the way you bit your lip when the cold air of his room hit your soaked panties. Your eyes glanced up to his boxers, seeing the indent of his long, thick cock, and your mouth went dry. His fingers hooked on the waistband of your panties, slowly dragging down and throwing them off to the side, hoping you’d forget about them so he could pocket another pair. With you exposed and bare on his bed, he really took a moment to admire you: the way your cheeks flushed, how the halo around your head flickered, the way your arousal seeped out of your pretty pussy and your nipples peaked. He just had to touch you; it would kill him if he didn’t. Leaning down, he began peppering kisses on your neck, your collarbone, before finally latching his lips around one of those sensitive nipples. Your breath stuttered at the sensation, and he used his left hand to palm your other breast, twisting the nipple between two fingers. You writhed under him, and he couldn’t help but grind his clothed cock against you, groaning and swirling his tongue around your nipple in tandem. Locking your legs around his waist, you held him to you so he was forced to keep grinding against you. It felt too good, and he wasn’t even inside you yet.

He tugged on your nipple and released it, breathing heavily as his eyes met yours. “If you don’t let me go, I’m definitely going to cum before I’m even inside you.”

“Poor Aki,” you giggled, letting your legs fall back on the bed. “Would that really be so bad?”

His eyes were burning into yours, serious as a heart attack. “I’ve been fucking my hand to the thought of you for what feels like forever,” he whispered, pressing a light kiss to the valley between your breasts. “I don’t want to ruin this moment.”

Aki moved up so that his lips were hovering over yours again, and he could really see the sparkle of your irises in the moonlight. You reached in between your bodies and gingerly massaged his bulge, feeling how much he’d already soaked his boxers with precum. “You couldn’t ruin anything even if you tried,” you replied, your voice light and airy. “I’m on the pill. I’m ready when you are.”

“Shit,” he groaned at your mention of being on the pill, trembling as you massaged him. This had to be another one of his dreams. Just the thought of being inside you without the barrier of a condom … he was so close to completely exploding. He didn’t deserve this, didn’t deserve you, after all the hell he’d witnessed and brought forth into this world. But he couldn’t help himself. He needed to have you, roommates be damned.

He stood up, needing to get away from your gentle hand. You sat up a little to help him tug down his boxers, careful of that shaky hand of his, and his cock sprang free, dripping precum on the floor. Aki, ever the gentleman, laid you back down on his bed with ease, holding your stare as he spread your legs wide for him. He breathed, praying to whatever god placed you in front of him that he wouldn’t cum prematurely. He couldn't remember the last time he had sex, but he was so desperate for you that all he cared about was not tainting this moment, this dream. 

Aki grasped his cock, giving it a few hard pumps and grunting, before positioning himself at your entrance. You both seemed to hold your breath as he finally slid in, just an inch at first, and the two of you seemed to release that shaky, nervous breath. “Oh, fuck,” he groaned, burying himself further in your tight warmth, bracing his elbows beside your head. 

“Keep going,” you begged. “It’ll fit, Aki. Promise.”

You were going to kill him, he was sure of it. Aki had felt the way you squeezed his fingers, but it was nothing compared to pleasure of being inside you, feeling how tight you really were. So much better than his hand. Once he was fully seated inside you, he opened his eyes just to look into yours. Your lips pursed, legs wrapping around his waist once again, and you slowly nodded for him to continue. His cock twitched.

“You’re going to be the death of me,” he muttered, sliding out of you before slamming back in. You cried out, carding your fingers in his hair, and he molded his face in the crook of your neck to muffle his own whimpers. You just felt so, so good – so good that he could cry. To think that his bed had once been so cold, so lonely, but now you were occupying the space, trembling underneath him as his cock slipped in and out of you. 

Your moans were like gospel. For so long, Aki had been used to loud noise: to Denji’s complaints, to Power’s shouting, to the Devils’ in his ear. But now, it was just you two on the altar of your apartment, silent except for your heavy breaths mingling and the sound of car horns outside. You were wet and slick like holy water, taking him so nicely despite his size, and god – it was like you were made for him and he was made for you. 

You tugged on his hair, needing him so badly even though he was already yours to begin with. He really would have you any way you wanted. All you had to do was ask.

Aki was already so close to release, but he needed you to cum with him. As he fucked into you harder, deeper, his cock curving against that spot that made your eyes roll back, he reached in between you two and found that swollen bundle of nerves in the apex of your thighs. “Aki,” you whined, tears pricking at your eyes as he rubbed your clit. He could die happily now that he heard your voice like that in his ear, knowing it was him that made it happen.

“Yes?” He said, breathless, placing sloppy kisses on your jaw. You clung to him, melting into him like ice cream on a hot summer’s day. “I’m so close. Are you close, angel?”

You whimpered at the nickname. “Almost.”

“Almost?” He fingers went a little faster. “Let’s get you there.”

As his two fingers rubbed tight, small circles on your clit, he angled his cock inside of you so that he could brush your G-spot with every thrust. You were now clutching onto him with all the strength you had left, entwining your body with his and feeling his muscles flex against your stomach. He was so deep now and you were so close and oh my god, Aki Hayakawa had you like putty in his hands.

And it was like he knew it without you even saying it. Because as your walls started to clench around him, he whispered into your ear. “Cum for me, angel. Please, please, need to cum with you.”

Your body convulsed, going tight around his cock as you came. Tears streamed down your cheeks and you called out his name, spurring him to fuck into you faster, reaching his own peak in the middle of yours. He groaned deep into your neck, hips stuttering as he spilled himself inside of you. You kept your legs around his waist, not wanting to miss a drop, and arched yourself against him, coming down from the high of your intense orgasm. Aki was still rubbing your clit slowly, whispering praises into your skin like, “Did so good me … So pretty … Could listen to you cum for hours.”

You two laid like that for a while, feeling his cock soften inside you, panting heavily against each other. Once he finally pulled out of you, your combined releases dripping down your thighs, you laid beside each other on his bed and stared at the ceiling. The silence was comforting, until he whispered, “Please, tell me that wasn’t all a dream.”

Turning your head, you smiled at him. “Do you feel this?” You pinched his arm.

Aki flinched. “Ow.”

“Definitely not a dream,” you chuckled.

[kentosbento]

fogging up nerd armin's glasses.

𝐀𝐑𝐌𝐈𝐍 — アルミン ⋅ fem reader

NOTES: damn i rlly be making my entrance to hell with this 🫡 kidding. ENJOY MY FELLOW NASTY BXTCHES 😈 the poll ain't even finished but i whipped this up in preparation for the armin prompt winning so i can satisfy our nerdmin craving lol

🔞 mdni / 18+ content

SUMMARY — nerd armin being pathetic for u until he snaps 'n puts u in ur place and does a full 180 :)

WARNINGS — smut, stereotypes (nerd, popular girl), mean reader / "pathetic" min -> mean min

SMUT WARNINGS — nasty kinky smut, implied experienced reader, namecalling (bxtch — both ways, he uses your own spells against you like some mf sev. snape, slvt,), stereotype kink (?) if that's what it's called, calling him/you pathetic, (mean) (nasty) dirty talk, oraljob (m. receiving), cvm swallowing, unprotected sex (implied taking the pill tho), creampie, dom/sub dynamics (switching), mean reader -> mean armin later, slight overstim, slight size kink, mentions him watching/learning from pxrn + mxsturbating with a pillow, please lmk if i have missed a warning!!

WORDCOUNT ≈ 1.2k

🍒 𝐉𝐚𝐲 ⋅ 𝐑𝐞𝐛𝐥𝐨𝐠𝐬/𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐬 𝐡𝐞𝐥𝐩 𝐚 𝐥𝐨𝐭 !

gold-framed, oversized, round glasses slip down his nose. there's a slight fog gradient creeping from the bottom of the lenses, owed to the searing heat coming from his dampened cheeks.

he's never felt this good in his life and you know it, that's partly why you offered to give him head in the first place. the other reason was to pay him back for helping you study for the past couple of months. he's showed up at your dorm room every weekend, textbooks clutched tight to his chest, back of his hand pushing those round glasses up his nose by the rim. there's faded freckles speckling his face and an ever-present boyishly red blush adorning his cheeks and ears.

that blush becomes more prominent when you have him like this. head tilted back, fistfuls of your bedsheets clutched tight in his delicate hands, head spinning. he's got the most picturesque blissed-out face, a real erotic expression straight out of a hentai. you don't need to even ask if he's ever gotten sucked off before, because the answer is clearly no. no way he has. he is the most straight-laced, uptight student — valedictorian, of course, and when he's not the best in school he's upset with himself. self-esteem so low, but your mouth is doing wonders to bring it back up. because he's receiving a sloppy blowjob from the most popular girl in school.

"oh my g—o–oood that's s-so fuck-fucking good!" he chokes.

the poor boy started out so quiet, able to swallow every moan and erotic noise. but when you really got into it? he lost it. he's been whimpering on your bed with you between his spread legs for an hour now.

"please don't fucking stop — fuck! — please 'm begging you, don't stoppp! yesyesyes fuck, ahhhah — oh my god i'm gonna go crazy if you lick it like that."

you give your jaw a break and pop off his cock, earning a startled whimper from him. he is so fucking pretty laying there, wettened blond bangs stuck to his forehead, blue eyes half-shut, textbook being nudged off by his elbow. and just an hour ago that textbook was being held in his hand while he taught you in that know-it-all voice of his.

now all his voice sounded like was pathetic, and you made sure to tell him that. "you sound so fucking pathetic." you smile up at him. his dick jumps and throbs, precum beads out and you swipe your tongue over his slit to collect it.

" 'm pathetic for you, 'm all for you — ouhhh fuck!" he goes into another lust daze, it looks like he's slipping from reality when your plush lips engulf his cock. and you haven't even shown off your deepthroating skills yet. how is he gonna survive that?

the answer is; he doesn't. he squirts out three hot, thick jets of cum the split second he feels his cock hit the back of your throat. the slight contractions of you swallowing made him let out the most broken, nasty whimper you've ever heard a man make.

you pull off and gulp all his cum down. "jeez, 'min, you moan like a bitch." you giggle meanly. he's absolutely getting off to your dirty talk. he wishes it was right in his ear.

but there's some hidden part of him that wants to throw you into a fatiguing position and bliss you out with some mean strokes. that secret little part of him seethes when you call him pathetic. oh you think he can't make you cum? he could ruin you with his cock. he knows it.

so when he goes home after your 'study' sessions, he watches porn and learns how to stroke right, how to play with that lil kitty of yours, how to lick it how to fuck it and how to ruin it. it's like a study session itself. he even practices with his pillow, thrusting his hips into it, mimicking the rhythm of the pornstar on his screen. practicing his smart mouth on his fist or fruits, learning how to control his tongue better, pretending it's your pussy.

your next few study sessions with him are riding practice.

you're teaching him everything he needs to know to destroy you, and you don't even realize that he's absorbing the information with the intention of using it against you. oh, you like your clit rubbed like that? you like it fast, like it slow? you like dirty talk? creampies?

"you're fucking nasty." he talks back to you for the first time when you're demonstrating how to hit it from behind.

you're caught so off-guard, all you can do is smile in shock.

"what'd you say?"

"nothing." he lies sweetly.

with that, he snaps his hips flush against your ass. those delicate hands that you taught many things to are now squeezing your hips with a nearly bruising grip, just how you told him you like.

those pretty lips that you taught how to french kiss and taught how to eat pussy are now brushing against your cheek, muttering dirty talk just how you told him you like.

"mmm who's a bitch now?" he seethes, cock sinking so deep that you kick your feet around.

"oh m- oh fuck! hahhhh, 'min 'min 'min! f-f-fuck don't stop! don't you fucking stop talking to me like th-that — oh my god that's the fucking spot, right there right there, harder please right fucking thereee!!"

he chuckles behind you, genuinely amused by how you sounded like a bitch in heat. it's like the both of you swapped places completely.

that pretty fat cock pumps in and out at an eye-rolling pace, the deep strokes he's hitting are something you never taught him but for some reason he knows how to do it well. your body slowly feels like it belongs less to you and more to him as he bullies his cockhead into that mushy spot. now that spot really fucks you up, and he learned that quick when you taught him. he listened to your every word and put all the theory into practice.

so that's why you start gushing and creaming around him. there's juices running down your thighs. sweat and heat searing across your bodies. hell, even armin's got your juices running down the front of his thighs as he fucks into you from behind.

"god you're making a fucking mess, have some shame. my fucking cock is getting painted white. 'gonna clean it up for me with that mouth of yours afterwards? yeah, you're damn right you are. uh-huh, i'll call you my bitch. can't believe you fucking like that, you're a fucking freak."

that last line is what makes you cum. oh, that was so funny to him; weren't you the one who used to call him a freak?

"look at that fucking back arch, wow..." he admires breathlessly, expression feral as he approaches his own high. "gonna cum inside, just how you want, 'sure you still want it?"

"yesyesyes! gimme your cum!" you cry, feeling slightly overstimulated with each stroke of his cock. it was so fucking thick, you felt so full that it's all you could focus on. so full. and he was gonna fill you up even more.

"oh my fuckin' god 'm gonna cum in this slutty fuckin' pussy, take it like a good slut — m-my slut, yeah? you're my slut? say it, please. yeah. say it again, 's gonna make me cu- fuck! ohhh god 'm gonna cum. take it, fuckfuckfuck 'cumming, 'cumming mmm!"

armin's never orgasmed that hard, or shot out that much cum. now if you weren't on the pill, you would have absolutely gotten pregnant from that session. he's a boy with breeder balls, that's one of the first things you told him and he remembered it.

he pulls out and relishes in the sight of his cum dripping out and running down your slit.

"that's so fucking beautiful." he smiles naughtily, wiping the sweat off his forehead with his forearm. "hey, up for round two?"

© arminsumi DO NOT STEAL WHAT I'VE WORKED HARD TO CREATE.

[kentosbento]

DIRTY TALK.

fem / afab reader

NOTE: just trying smth out... a dialogue-only smut scene from ur fave. it's literally just the script of what your fave is saying lmk know what u think :) it was fun to write and very satisfying bc i am a huge lover of dirty talk writing. anyways it was written with armin/gojo in mind but the char is ambiguous, you can insert anyone

🔞 mdni / 18+ content

SUMMARY — diaolgue/script of your fave's dirty talk

WARNINGS — smut, dialogue-only

WARNINGS — pls ignore errors i wrote this over maths homework, dialogue-only smut, dirty talk, unprotected sex, he's super horny, soft dom, creampie, daddy kink, breeding kink, aftercare, slight size kink, "good girl" used, "slvt" used, "baby" used, pre-established relationship, playing with ur clvt, 2x orgasm (reader), laughing when he cums, implied overstim, lmk if i have missed a warning thank u, i'm sure it's fem reader implied but i wasn't too sure so idk lol it's 1 am im going to bed

WORDCOUNT ≈ 750

🍒 𝐉𝐚𝐲 ⋅ 𝐑𝐞𝐛𝐥𝐨𝐠𝐬/𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐬 𝐡𝐞𝐥𝐩 𝐚 𝐥𝐨𝐭 !

"God, I'm so fucking horny, baby. Spread those legs 'n let me use that pretty pussy, 'there we go. Here, put your legs on my shoulders. I've got you. Fuck look at that perfect pussy, all wet 'n ready for me — yeah? All for me? Just for daddy? Gonna let me stretch you out? Good, good girl. Breathe deep while I just s-slide the tip in. Oh fuck. Y-you're so fucking tight today, t-tighter than usual — fuck me — oh you're gonna make me cum so fast, haha. Loosen up a bit for me. Thank you baby, fuuuck let me slide it in, just like that. You're so perfect. Look at that... look how we fit together. Our bodies were made for each other, don't you think? Yeah? Oh fuck, don't clench up yet, loosen for me again. Fuck. That feels so fucking good — ahah — I'm not laughing at you, baby, j-just can't believe how good it feels to — fuck — ahhhuh — yeah that's a perfect little slut, just take daddy's cock like you're meant to."

"Gonna spell your name on this dick, baby? Yeah? Cream and cum all over it? Oh, fuck, can't wait to make you cum again and again and a-again — yesyesyes — fuck that's so good, when you tighten 'round my length like that. Feels like your cunt is sucking on my cock, 's so fucking good. Baby! Fuck, hold onto my arms if you need to. Oh, nasty slut moaning already? That's okay, you can let it out. Moan all you need to — moan into my ear while I fuck this little hole loose. Haha, are you gonna cum already? That's okay, you can cum. Play with that little clit — so cute. Faster, play with it faster. I wanna see you go numb on my fucking cock. Yeah? What is it? Oh this spot? You want me to fuck this spot? Right here? F-fuck, right here, baby? Yeah that feels so fucking good, doesn't it? Ooh, baby cum for me. Cum. Don't worry about a thing, daddy's got you safe in his arms. Let go and get your sweet relief. There we go — oh fuck, haha, there we fucking go. Someone came big time, huh? Look at those legs shaking. Yeah, now daddy wants to cum, too. Got me all fucking worked up. Just gonna take it out for a moment... ah, fuck don't worry baby I'm gonna put it back in. Don't wanna overstimulate you on accident. Huh? Oh? Really? Fuck alright, I'll fuck you up just like you want it, then. Turn around slut, let's give that pussy a good filling then. Oh my god 's fucking tigh-tighter. Shit, makes me wanna fucking bust. Baby? Look into my eyes and tell me how much you love this cock. Fuck. Yeah, again. Say it again. 'Need to hear you say it again, baby. Louder. Fucking louder. Don't care if the neighbours hear you, just need to hear that sweet voice breakingg while I fuck — fuck — baby yes, yes of course I'll cum inside y-you. Are you really sure? You're not on birth control, right? Gonna get that pusssy knocked up if I cum inside. Oh fuck — can you repeat that?! You want my baby? Yeah? Fuck, you want my seed? God, baby, yes, yes fuck I'll give you my fucking babies. I'll make you a mommy. Stay right there, fuck — oh my god I'm close. I'm so fucking close. Gonna fill up that pussy, stuff it so good not a drop spills out. Oh my fuckin' god you're creaming so much, 's this what you've been into all along? Sh-shoulda told me sooner, 'woulda fucked my cum i-into this tight hole — every — fucking — day. Fuck, baby, ahah I'm gonna cum. I'm gonna — oh god, yeah, you gonna cum again? Cum with me. Let me play with that clit. Fuck I'm cumming — I'm cumming — gonna cum so hard 'n knock up that pussy — fuuuck — oh god, fuckfuckfuck ahah — ahaha that's — so — fucking — good — fuck. Holy shit. I came so much... look at all that... aw baby, don't let it drip out; tighten up 'n keep it deep inside. Get pregnant for me. Hm? I love you, too, dumb baby angel. Let's get that pretty pussy cleaned up. Aw, you can't stand up by yourself? Legs too numb, huh? Here, I've got you. I'll massage your legs in the bath. Ah, you're the sweetest. Y'know how cute you sounded begging for my cum? Sorryyy! I like teasing you, you know that!"

© 𝐚𝐫𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐢 𝐃𝐎 𝐍𝐎𝐓 𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐀𝐋 𝐖𝐇𝐀𝐓 𝐈'𝐕𝐄 𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐊𝐄𝐃 𝐇𝐀𝐑𝐃 𝐓𝐎 𝐂𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐓𝐄.

[kentosbento]

HAND KINK + Aki catches you staring at his hands.

CONTENT WARNINGS + afab reader, smut, mature language, explicit adult content, general submissive/dominant behavior, hand kink, strangers to lovers, edging, multiple orgasms, finger fucking, blindfolding, begging, orgasm denial, anal, riding, public sex, choking, degradation

TAGS: @iminlovewqr0w @i-literally-cant-with-this @hehehehesthings

more content on my masterlist!

Strangers to lovers. You guys aren’t really together, barely even friends. You just can’t keep your eyes off his hands when you’re around each other and he’s having fun watching you squirm when he flexes his wrists. “What are you looking at?” His husky voice assaults your ears. You barely have enough presence of mind to answer, eyes still glued to the prominent veins snaking through his fingers. If just looking at his fingers is enough to turn you dumb, he wonders just how dumb you’ll go when you’re riding them. “You like my hands a lot, huh? Maybe I’ll let you play with them.”

Edging. Aki takes his fingers away from your body, leaving them soaking and exposed to the cool air. He smirks at your frustrated whine for what feels like the hundredth time. “Aww, you wanna cum? Do you think you even deserve it, the way you’ve been begging so shamelessly?”

Multiple orgasms. Of course you feel like you deserve it. You’ve been such a good girl, riding his sexy fingers. Aki’s thumb slowly circles your clit In a teasing manner. The look on your face in silent begging is too cute to resist. He shoves his two long digits inside of you up until the hilt – fucking you hard with them until you’re creaming straight into his palm. “Another one.” He smiles. You cum so hard as Aki curls his fingers inside of you, knowing exactly what spots to hit. “So messy.” He smiles, your juices dripping from his long digits.

Finger fucking. Aki isn’t some sloppy fuckboy just looking to play with your pussy. He knows the human body from years of experience, knows exactly what a woman’s body wants and doesn’t. He knows exactly how to make you cum so hard that you go fucking blind. You whine as his fingers massage your g-spot. “This is what you want right, baby? Wanna cum on these hands that you love so much? Cum for me then,” Two fingers drill inside of you without mercy, a thumb on your clit, his free hand rests on your hip to keep you balanced. “Like a good girl.” You turn into a mess so easily, moaning into his mouth like a good little slut.

Blindfold. Aki fucks you from behind often, losing himself in your tightening pussy, loving the arch in your back. He loves to take control over your vision while he’s got you bent at his mercy. The cool touch of his skin over your eyes drives you crazy, causing you to clench around his cock. “C-can’t see.” You don’t even know if you want to see the filthy scene he’s created for the two of you. “That’s because I don’t fucking want you to.” Aki fucks you hard into another orgasm. You can’t see him but you know that he’s smirking as he looks down at the wet mess he’s buried In.

Begging. Fingernails graze your skin, just barely touching you where you want to be touched. You buck your hips up into his touch but it’s not enough and you wish he would just give you what you want. “You’re so needy. It must be so embarassing.” He snickers at you, completely right.

Orgasm denial. Aki would call himself a giver, just because he knows exactly how to give. He looks up at you with your feet planted on the mattress, knees bent and giving him full access to your leaking hole. Aki studies your writhing body. The way that your head is thrown back is so sexy to him but he can’t help but feel that it would be even better if you were having such a reaction to him actually fucking you. “It doesn’t take much to please you, does it?” Still, he’d like to feel that your cunt squeezing around him. Kind of selfish of you if he really thinks about it and do selfish girls get to cum? Fuck no. What a stupid question to ask.

Anal. “You’re the one that came whining to me about how much you liked my hands, baby.” He references the day you shyly came onto him after expressing how sexy you found his prominent veins. So very kinky of you. “So stop whining and let me play.” And play he does as Aki pumps a lone finger in you pulsing asshole. He finds sensitive spots all along the walls of your ass to send jolts up your spine – once again, his experienced hands can fuck you in any way imaginable. He fingers you through you first anal orgasm.

Riding. You lean down as you straddle Aki’s waist and try your hardest to focus on doing his makeup for him but those strong hands resting on your waist, palms cool and skin smooth. He internally smiles to himself, self-control enabling him to keep his face neutral so you won’t know what he’s planning. That self-control slips though and, before you know it, his hard cock is poking you through his pants. “You know,” He smiles. “I’m pretty good at my own makeup.” And he wants to laugh that you even fell for this to begin with. Aki unbuckles his belt, dick popping though. His eyes tell you exactly what he wants you to do and you don’t need to think twice before dropping the liner pencil and sinking down onto his erection. He loves it when you ride him but, course, he can’t help but press his hands to your waist and move you along his cock until he’s spilling inside of you.

Public sex. “Need you right now.” Aki pulls your panties down you pool at your ankles and pushes into you, no time wasted. You’re always so wet and ready for him, such a perfect hole for him. Your needy whines climb in volume, prompting him to put one of those hands that you love so much over your slut mouth to keep others from hearing how good you’re getting fucked. “You moan like you want an audience. Does that turn you on? Letting people hear you get screwed over this desk like a cheap whore?” His harsh words elicit more whines from you. You can’t help but clench in embarrassment.

Choking. His hands, strong and experienced, close around your neck. Aki always fucks hard, the sound of his hips slamming into your thighs and your gasping breaths fill the air. His ballsack slaps wetly against your ass as he drills into you. “Never seen a bitch cum so hard over not being able to breathe. You’re a kinky little thing, aren’t you?” His degrading monotone pushes you right over the edge – just like he knew it would.

[kentosbento]

Thinking of 21+ Toge Inumaki who makes you come whenever he wants

"Can't anymore- no more-- Toge please-"

"Hmm.." he hums to himself and gets between your legs, removing the vibrator he's been pressing there for what feels like hours, with endless orgasms, some so hard they've left you all but melting in a puddle of your own arousal.

Sliding his fingers through your mess, sinking them into you, he seems to be inspecting.

A mischievous smile crosses his face and he curls his fingers, hitting the plushy spot inside you that makes your legs shake.

"T-To-ge-- Toge- wait-!!"

And with that grin and the pure devilish look in his lilac eyes, you know what he's going to do.

Unzipping his turtleneck, he leans right up close to your pretty face, making direct eye contact with his fingers knuckle deep inside you and he utters-

"come"

It makes him giggle every time he does this. Seeing you helplessly squirming, your cute hole gripping his fingers from his words alone.

He thinks this is what his cursed speech was for all along. He's found its purpose.

"come" again, he keeps going, seeing the sweat begin to glisten on your forehead, your hair sticking to your face, the sheets getting soaked.

And that's when he has another brainwave straight from hell.

He wonders if you'd mind.

Well, in this state he's sure you'd do anything even if he gave you a choice.

So he stands up from the bed, watching your dazed and confused expression for a moment, until his next command comes-

"on your knees"

And he watches your face shift from hesitant, shocked, and finally landing on... aroused.

He was right.

He knew a little freak like you would love this.

Now, he makes you come over and over until you're moaning and drooling all over him, giving the messiest head he's ever received.

But he knows you enjoy how he torments you, so he got cocky and started doing it in public.

Standing close enough so only you would hear, whispering directly in your ear-

"come"

And that's all it would take, to have your body shaking in his arms, biting your lip to stifle the moans. Sometimes you'd even try to hide your face in his chest, but he'd just push you back gently and continue as if nothing happened.

Every time he does it, he can't help but think about that perfect, dripping pussy, the slick that's pooling in your panties, then running down your legs by the third or fourth time, and it gets him undeniably hot.

He can't help but take pleasure in this, smiling to himself all day, when you're out shopping, getting lunch, or meeting friends.

Your friends do wonder why he looks so happy all the time...

[kentosbento]

Behind the Wall

Who was this stressed, suited man...and how could you love him so easily?

A Higuruma Hiromi glory-hole story.

Warnings: 18+, MDNI, feral smut and falling in love with a stranger.

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You knew him only as the man in the black and white suit. You had only seen the briefest glimpse of his clothes through your glory hole, after all.

"I don't normally-- I've never done this before...not that kind of guy--" he apologised, on the other side of the wall. His voice was smooth, deep and kind. You felt a little bubble of affection in your belly already.

"...well...I'm not that kind of girl," you teased, peeking a single come hither beckoning finger out of the glory hole, inviting him to your mouth, "...but something's got to pay the bills."

You heard the man's breath hitch, a shudder. You heard him unzip himself, and you settled on your knees, wiggling in anticipation. Waiting for a job to come up in a legal office was long...and while this wasn't the best use of your Law degree, you couldn't help but feel the thrill of doing something so sordid.

A cock, only half-hard and uncertain, but still so long, thick and pink-tipped beneath his silky foreskin, was eased gently through the hole. His voice sounded worried for you on the other side, and you pressed your fingers over your mouth, suppressing a smile.

"I'm...I'm not sure-- are you...are you sure?" The man in the suit stuttered. You leaned forwards, ghosting your lips over his cockhead, and the man gasped and moaned, a little trickle of salty pre-cum wetting your lips;

"Shhhh...you sound stressed," you cooed, "and I enjoy this, too. So let's have some fun." You held his length in your hand, and were satisfied to hear him whine and tremble, the dull knock of his hands and a knee pressing against the other wall. His cock swelled in your hand, twitching, and you rolled your thumb over his wet cockhead beneath the stretching hood of his foreskin.

"--so-- so stressed," he whined, pleading and begging you, "...you don't even... don't even know how bad...how bad my week has been..." His moans fractured as you began to pump his cock with your hand, from ball to tip, and he rutted forwards into your fist, "...haven't cum...can't remember the last time...so long...haaaah fuck, perfect, pleasepleaseplease, feels so good..."

"Yeah?" You whispered, bottom lip between your teeth, eyes closed as you drank down his little moans and gasps, purring at him, "Does that feel good? You sound desperate, baby. I bet you work so hard."

He whimpered into the affection; "--g-god yeah...feels amazing...your hand, fuck-- work so hard, s--so so hard...not got...don't have...have anyone, shit-- ohhhh-hhhhh--hh not gonna...not gonna last..."

You felt his cum-tight balls as you reached through, pulling them gently through the hole to massage them at the base of his cock. Your man cried out, all strained whimpers and cursing, and you heard his fingernails scrape against the other side of the wall; "Tell me what you want, beautiful stressed boy...how can I help you?"

"--spit--spit on my cock pleasepleaseplease in your mouth, pl--" He broke off into delirious shudders to feel your hot little mouth slick tightly around his cockhead, squeezing your lips into a tight ring, and using them to push his foreskin down as you sucked him into your mouth. With your tongue cupping his length while you sucked, bobbing your mouth around him, smooth and tasting his little spurts of pre-cum, his moans shot straight through you.

You hadn't felt as aroused as this, pleasuring a client before, but something about his frantic, begging desperation set your clit throbbing. Your hand drifted lazily between your legs, slipping between your glossy wet folds, rolling your clit under two fingers. You moaned around his length, and he cried out, cock throbbing, close to the edge.

Pulling your mouth back, and jacking off his red, aching cock with your spit and fist, you whispered, just loud enough for him to hear; "You sound so pretty, you've even got me touching myself--"

That was the last straw; your man in the rumpled suit came with a bark, sandy curses and whimpers. You took him back into your mouth, feeling heavy pulses of seed spilling out onto your tongue, flooding your mouth-- it obviously had been a long time for him.

"--arrrrghh god yes, shit, thank you-- so perfect, fuck, thank you-- oh ffff--ffuuuck in your mouth too...you're too good-- don't deserve-- dont deserve you--...haaaah...ahhhhh..."

You heard the wall tremble as your man came down from his high. His ears ringing, he vaguely heard your swallow. A weak whimper left him, and you giggled as another spurt of cum dampened your lips. You licked him clean, leaving him shivering with overstimulation, before placing a sweet little kiss to his cockhead.

"...come see me again?"

"F-fuck yes, absolutely-- absolutely."

+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+

You had barely worked that week, lost in job-hunting, coming up empty-handed at every turn. It was five days before you made it back to the glory hole, happily receiving a generous payment, and wondering vaguely about your stressed, lonely man in the rumpled suit. You settled in your booth; it took him just a few minutes to find you.

"...is it...is it you?" He asked tentatively. You grinned, nudging yourself forwards on your knees, just out of eyesight behind the gloryhole. You blushed, shaking yourself off as being ridiculous.

"...do you mean me?" You offered. You heard his sigh of delight. He laughed, a deep, rich sound.

"I worried I'd scared you away," he teased. You heard him start to unzip himself, before hesitating, "Uhm...can we...?"

"Quick," you whispered conspiratorially, "put something in my mouth before I start talking at you." He laughed again, a sound that sent flutters of butterflies through your tummy. His cock, already rock-hard and glistening at the tip, was pressed through the hole. You reached through to cup his balls, softly bringing them through. He shuddered; he had clearly been hoping you'd cup his sensitive balls for him again.

"You like it when I do this...?" You teased, rolling his heavy balls in one palm. Hearing him groan, and sigh with relief into your touch, you leaned your cheek against the wall, admiring the weight of him in your hand as you massaged him.

"...I...never knew I did, but...you're so good at it...shit, feel like I could cum-- cum just from that--"

"Hush," you mocked him, just to hear his shaking laugh again, "you deserve so much more than that." Taking his cock into your mouth, determined to take him into your throat this time, you revelled in the dulcet tones of him falling apart inside your hot little mouth again. You swirled your tongue around his cockhead, swiping into his leaking slit, suckling, examining, measuring him with your throat.

Your stressed man bucked involuntarily to feel his blunt cockhead stroke the back of your throat, and you gagged, swallowing around him. He wasn't able to last long, feeling the sides of your throat stretch around his leaking cock.

"--haaa--aaahhhhh fuck'msosorry...feel s'good...like this...haaahh fuckkkk....do you...do you like to read?"

Your throat convulsed around his length, sputtering as you burst into laughter. Your rumpled man convulsed too, swearing and stuttering as his orgasm hit him like a bus. You tried to catch his cum in your hand and mouth, but knelt, still laughing, his seed dripping down your cheeks as he groaned, bucking forwards, cock bounding thick spatters of seed onto you.

"...do I like to read?" You laughed, masturbating him to bring him down from his high. He whimpered into your wall again, a sound which was gradually conditioning you, into pussy-aching wetness.

"...I'm sorry, I...I just...fucking ignore me, I'm an idiot, I just..."

You laughed again, the twinkling sound shooting through him like daggers.

"...just...wanted to get to know you," he mumbled, and you could hear the mortified little pout through the wall.

You couldn't wait to see your rumpled man again. You didn't know how you resisted looking through the hole at him as he walked away. You called after him, and heard his footsteps hesitate for a moment, before he snorted with mirth.

"I love to read!"

+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+

"I want...to try something different this time. Please."

Your rumpled man sounded hoarse. His voice was tight, clipped. You could feel the stress pounding off him in waves, through your little window to him.

"...what would you like?" You answered, as if to a lover, not a client.

"Can you...can you come to the other window, instead?"

Ah...the gloryhole for fucking. A little flat bench where your ass, pussy and legs could lay, your body separated by a wall and curtain. Your eyelids fluttered to imagine the cock you knew well by now, stretching your pussy open, your mystery man clutching your thighs as he fucked into you. You imagined those desperate whimpers and moans for your cunt, instead of your mouth, and it made you throb.

"I mean...I don't normally..." you hesitated, feeling a twang of regret to disappoint him.

"No," he urged, sounding so fractious and desperate, "not that. I promise, not that. You...another time. Another way. I want...want to eat you out. Please."

You faltered again, arguing with him; "This is meant to be about you, not me, I'll take care of you--"

"Trust me," he begged, his palms flat on the wall now, "...this...this is what I need. I mean it. Please. Please."

God knew you couldn't resist his begging. You felt a trickle of arousal seep out of you, dampening your panties. The thought of that groaning mouth around your clit set you on fire.

"Well...alright then. If you insist." You moved round to the next window, and heard him follow, pacing and predatory. You shimmied out of your panties, swallowing thickly before you crept your ass and legs out of the window, down the table. When you settled, legs open, feeling so exposed, his palms held your thighs. You heard him curse under his breath.

"Fuck...you're beautiful." Your man said it so sincerely, in that lusty-low voice, that you blushed, your hands over your face as you lay on your back. You felt your thighs confidently lifted, draped over strong, broad shoulders. His voice was deep, hungry.

"...hope you've got something to hold onto, back there, my love."

Fuck, how you saw stars. You cried out in genuine bliss as he sunk his face between your folds. You tried climbing up desperately on your elbows to see him, but were woefully obscured by a black curtain. You could feel a powerful, prominent nose bridge nuzzling across your clit, that clever tongue plunging into your hole.

Those familiar groans, husky whispers and moans, were now muffled by your pussy. Your rumpled man was drinking the life out of you, making you twist and writhe, sucking your clit into his mouth with such force that you instinctively shied away up the couch. He gripped your thighs, yanking them back over his shoulders as you squeaked. He growled, sinking his prominent front teeth into the soft inner squish of your thighs.

"No. Get back here so I can fuck you with my mouth." You sobbed against the pleasure, your toes curling against the backs of his shoulders. Crying out as he shook his head from side-to-side with a rusty growl, you twitched and jerked, having never felt yourself dragged to orgasm so forcefully.

"Oh my fuc--fucking god, you're so good at that-- oh fuck don't stop-- don't stop don'tstopdon'tstoppleasepleaseplease--"

You didn't need to beg to make him continue. Already feeling on the edge of a savage high, you felt three long fingers, bunched together and lubricated with his own spit, plunge into your hole. A high, keening cry left you, and he found your soft spot immediately, fucking his fingertips against your belly.

"--thassit--fucking amazing...beautiful girl, c'mon...deserve the best, shit--"

One final suck of your clit into his mouth had you rolling over the edge. Silence rang from the other active booths around you, the clients and girls listening in awe as you moaned and whimpered your way through the most spectacular orgasm you'd ever felt. Your hands plunged past the curtain into his hair, tugging on it, thick and silky between your fingers.

Your rumpled man was groaning, whimpering, those familiar sounds you knew he only made when he came. Ths silence rang loudly through the booths, as you both came down from your highs.

One little voice from somewhere across the room; "...fucking hell." A few smattered laughs, and the slow sounds of others continuing their work of mouths and hands. You were dazed, lost on cloud nine, panting. Your hands came back to you, some inky black strands caught between your fingers. That familiar voice between your legs, so much less tense now.

"...so, uh...reckon I could get a job here? Do I pass the interview?"

You couldn't help how you laughed.

+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+

"...have you...do you see anyone else...apart from me?"

Why did you feel so guilty?

"I...I do, yeah. No regulars though. And nobody I actually enjoy, like...like you." It was true. Your goofy, stressed, rumpled man had ruined you for anyone else. You felt a jealous prickle from him on the other side of the wall.

"...I....do you have to keep doing this?" He pleaded with you.

"...well...can't find any legal secretary jobs, so--"

"Excuse me?"

You faltered. Had you said something wrong? You began to repeat yourself, but he interrupted you.

"All this time...I'm a-- I'm a lawyer," he choked out, and you ran cold, stunned. You laughed nervously.

"...so that's why you're so stressed." He laughed with you, swearing quietly to himself.

"I'm sure..." he offered, sly and sincere, "...I'm sure we could do with another legal secretary."

You knelt, stunned, your mouth dry and heart pounding in anticipation. You heard him speak again.

"Listen... how about you come out here, and say hello properly...and I take you out for dinner? No strings, no expectations, just...dinner."

You were silent. He begged.

"Please...I've got to see you. Please."

Trembling, pulling your clothes on, you acquiesced. Before stepping out from behind the back curtain, your shaking voice joked; "Well, you asked for it...drumroll please."

You laughed to hear him patter two hands rapidly on the wall. You stepped out.

Tall. Black-haired. Hooked-nosed. Hangdog-eyed. And, staring into you, as if you were a goddess made flesh. You had never felt so beautiful. He turned, and blushed, his hands cupping his mouth and nose as he looked towards the ceiling. He groaned, mortified at his past behaviour.

"...you never told me you were so lovely."

[kentosbento]

˚₊‧ ᴡɪʟʟ ɪᴛ ʙᴇ ᴄᴀsᴜᴀʟ ɴᴏᴡ? ‧₊˚

♡ ft. geto, toji, gojo, higuruma, nanami ♡ total wc: 10.9k // nsfw minors dni! // ♡ contents: ౨ৎ 𝑎 𝑐𝑜𝑛𝑡𝑖𝑛𝑢𝑡𝑎𝑡𝑖𝑜𝑛 𝑜𝑓 𝑡ℎ𝑖𝑠 ౨ৎ, afab reader she/her pronouns, no smut in gojos or tojis im sorry, emotionally stunted men kinda but they grow isnt that nice (not talking abt higuruma and nanami god no), the aftermath of fwb caught feelings, consolation, emotional aftercare ig, lotta domestic fluff for higuruma and nanami's!!!! (everyone say ty @noosayog for nanami's bc she is the only reason i wrote his) ♡ listen along: casual by chappell roan ♡

- ᡣ𐭩 time passes and people change, and just because you fell first doesn't mean you don't get a happy ending + bonus continuation of higuruma's and nanami's ᡣ𐭩 -

ᯓᡣ𐭩 ɢᴇᴛᴏ [ 3 ʏᴇᴀʀs ]

on the list of people that you thought you’d see tonight, geto isn’t even in the top 100, not because of probability or likelihood, but solely based on the fact that you have not thought about this man in years. if you were asked the question from your future self, “holy shit, guess who we saw tonight?” you would’ve listed old friends, distant relatives, exes, minor celebrities, other flings, teachers from high school, people from stories you’ve only heard of, and then geto. 

after that night, you really didn’t see barely any of him. a few posts on your feed: one 2 weeks after and another 2 months after that one when you remembered that you forgot to unfollow him. once on campus: him across a million tables getting lunch with some girl too long after your little thing for you to care about who she was to him at all. once at a mutual (though you didn’t know was mutual at the time) friend’s party close to graduation: you ran into him grabbing a drink from the cooler and neither of you said a single word to each other, just exchanged a very knowing glance.

fast forward a handful of years, with geto not on your mind during a single one of them, and you’re stunned, nearly speechless, as you recognize him across the bar. the track of which your mind is racing takes you stop after stop to thoughts and feelings you didn’t really ask to experience. they follow a curving roadmap in your mind of: why is he here? ↝ wow, he looks great ↝ does he live nearby still? ↝ that’s weird ↝ no, it isn’t weird, i still live here ↝ then what are the fucking chances that he’s here ↝ no, seriously he looks so good

he looks different though, you realize about 3 minutes into sneaking glances in his direction, in some way that you just can’t put your finger on right now. in your slightly tipsy state, you barely stop to ask yourself how you even clocked that it was him so quickly, how there was no hesitance in the recognition or questioning in the placing. he looks really fucking good.

in fact, now that all of the obligatory thoughts have come to a heed, that’s really the only thing that you can think about. how good he looks.

the events that happened that ended your situationship all of those years ago are nothing but outlines now; whatever you said or he said just sounds like underwater conversations. you can see the way that you left and you remember being dumbfounded, but everything else has lost its sting, like a story you’d recall to a friend of a friend in a setting much like the one you’re in. time has handled the memory the way that time does and as a result, when the two of you finally make eye contact after what feels like an hour of missed mutual glances, you offer a small wave. a wave that says, “i remember only knowing you in past tense. we are such different people now, i wonder what it would’ve been like if we met now instead.”

the wave was the first step, technically, sure, but he makes the literal first step. he departs from the conversation he’s been enthralled with for as long as you’ve been stealing glances and he weaves between people in the middle of their own stories before ending up in front of you. 

when he does, he asks, as if he’s just randomly bumped into you rather than intentionally coming over, “shit… is that you?” he puts his hand on the back of your chair, thumb brushing your shoulder.

the friend that you’re with cocks their head, furrows their eyebrows, has no idea who this is or their connection to you, the timelines of their interactions with you spaced too far apart for one to know the other. geto notices this look, addresses it. “we used to…,” he pauses, “see each other? for a little bit.”

you can’t help the laugh that bubbles up from your chest at the way he describes it. “yes, yes we did,” you nod. “back in college,” you explain a little further, “been a while.”

the interaction quiets, the two of you exchanging soft smiles instead of words, and your friend knows where this thing is going before either of you even do, so they bow their head, offer their seat to geto, and take their leave in the name of some bullshit excuse. he takes it without a second thought, asking you how you’ve been, laughing about the time that you saw each other at that party, and after an hour of just talking he says, “yeah, i actually thought about you the other day.”

you nearly choke on the drink he’s bought you. you rush to put it down. “you did?” you ask.

he nods. “i don’t even remember what prompted it. i think, maybe, i saw a photo of myself from college and how different i looked and how different i feel now and then just, out of nowhere, remembered how shitty i was to you.” 

you don’t say anything in return, running your finger around the lip of your glass as you stare at him. you don’t know how to say that you don’t care anymore, that you haven’t thought of those days in years, that the surprise that you displayed a few seconds ago was completely genuine, because you were so convinced that neither of you had. it comes out something like a shrug and, “we were practically kids.”

he answers so quickly, “well, kids or not, i’m sorry.”

you laugh, gently so he won’t think you’re laughing at his apology. really, you’re laughing at the notion of apologizing for an act that no longer warrants forgiveness. you laugh at the thought of giving it anyways. you place your hand on top of his on the edge of the bar. “thank you,” you nod. he nods back. 

when you let him take you back to his place for old times sake, you’re half-expecting the same person from the ghosts of memories from years ago, like all of the things he said at the bar were just a last ditch effort to usher the night in the exact direction that it’s heading in. 

but he’s different now, just like he said he was before he apologized, and you can feel it in his movements and his actions. more confident, more intentional. he kisses you first and it doesn’t taste selfish. it doesn’t feel rushed to get to the main event. he savors it, holds your head in his hands, and doesn’t touch a single other inch of your body until he’s found the right combination of fingertip pressure and tongue that has you melting into his palm.

your mind flickers to the notion that these actions might be pre planned because they feel so meticulous and thought out, but that impression quickly dissolves when he sinks inside of you, slowly, keeping his eyes locked on yours as he does, his hand reaching down to cup your cheek, fingers nearly trembling against your jaw when he presses his hips completely against the insides of your thighs. 

“shit,” he hisses, hands moving down to your waist, fingers light like feathers practically crawling against your skin, as if each print was so grateful it got to make contact with the softness below. when he grips into the fat of your hips, he’s careful, intentional or not, pressing his thumbs into the bone, but not letting his nails leave a single mark. it’s pressured, but comfortable. 

he holds you in place, slowly pulling his hips back and he can’t help but look down between your legs, watching himself disappear inside of you, a creamy mess at the base, shallow breaths recycled in his chest. 

“hey,” you say, eyes locked on the tenseness of his jaw and the way that he stops himself with sharp inhales. he finds your gaze in a second. “don’t hold out on me here.” you rest your arm on his bicep, fingers curling around wherever they can reach.

you can feel it under your palm, his muscle tensing as his pace picks up, rhythm consistent, but unrelenting. the breaths come out of you quickly and you’re unable to hold any sort of facade. “ah- shit, f-fuck,” you cry, “holy shit.” you squeeze your eyes shut, swallowing harshly as strangled noises leave you without vetting a single one.

“n-no,” you shake your head, regretting it instantly as he slows down in response. you shake your head harder, “no, don’t stop, but- ah,” you groan, “your- you were- i meant,” you exhale a laugh, “let me hear you.”

his eyes widen slightly as he processes what you want from him, and then he listens. he leans down to kiss your lips and then your cheek and then your jaw and then your ear. yes, he’s fucking you better than you’ve ever been fucked in your entire life, but that’s not what makes you crumble. no, it’s his grunts and pants and breathy groans pressed right up against your skin. 

you thread your fingers into his hair, twirling the ends of the locks between the tips, raking your nails down the base of his neck to the front, and then smoothing them down his chest. “more,” you mumble against him, and you’re not sure exactly what you mean, but he gives it to you, whatever it is. you’re certain he’d give you anything in the world right now if you just asked for it.

there’s a moment after when you’re lying there with him, shoulder pressed up against his, chest heaving, barely recovered, that you find yourself back in that college dorm. you don’t know why the tightness is rising in the hollow below your sternum, but it is. you remind yourself that you weren’t expecting anything from this anyway, so it doesn’t matter, but it does. you’re not sure if you just don’t want to be treated like that again or if it has something to do with geto being the one lying beside you. 

when you turn your head to face him, he’s already looking at you. he doesn’t shy away in embarrassment, like it’s wrong that he’d be gazing at you after all of that. his features are steady, confident, strong. he smiles softly, brings his hand up to cup your cheek. “should we get breakfast in the morning?”

in the morning, you repeat in your head. you wait a beat, trying to come up with something to say, to proceed with caution or to discern his intentions or to at least not sound desperate, but all that comes out is, “in the morning?” 

he nods, turning on his side so he can stare at you without his neck getting sore. he inches closer to you, kissing the top of your shoulder and then your temple. he drapes his arm over your stomach. “if that’s okay with you,” he says and then kisses you again.

“okay,” you nod back, lazy smile on your lips, eyelids heavy at the warmth surrounding you now as he pulls you closer to him. “yeah, sure,” you affirm, voice so soft and airy that the tightness in your chest is lifted away with the words, all that’s left is a hope you feel comfortable letting stick around.

ᯓᡣ𐭩 ᴛᴏᴊɪ [ 3 ᴍᴏɴᴛʜs ]

you are not expecting anyone. you have resigned yourself to a nice pair of pajamas and comfy socks and a warm cup of tea and a spot in the living room that you will only leave for a refill and bathroom breaks. you are tucked into the corner of your couch, back pressed up against the sturdy arm, legs crossed, and a throw blanket over your lap.

you are not expecting anyone, so the sound at the door should have felt a lot more jarring. well, it is jarring for a second, a few seconds actually, the echoing disruption bouncing off of the walls of your living room and back to you, but then the noises repeat themselves, like they’re on a looping track, and you realize that-

you know that knock. heavy-handed with a tight fist, back of the knuckles, not the tops. almost pittering out by the end of the three successions, like the first one is direct and assured, but the second and third don’t really bother keeping up. that knock almost makes you run to the door. if it were 3 months ago, you’d be skipping to the door. 

but you hesitate for a few reasons. firstly because when the connection hits that you know that knock very well, you remind yourself to proceed with caution. secondly because it sounds the same but with a difference as small as a hairline fracture. you heard that knock far too many times during the span of a year and a half, and this one sounds almost completely identical, but there’s a half second pause between the first knock and the second knock and the raps feel less impatient. 

you don’t have to look through the peephole to know who’s standing on the other side of the door, but you’re glad you do anyway. if for nothing else, it gives you a slight edge, you’re convinced, like you’ve seen him first, you have the upperhand now. at least, that’s what you tell yourself. 

toji hadn’t contacted you since he left that day. no texts. no calls. no showing up at your apartment at 3 am. nothing. you kept telling yourself that you’d hear from him. when that didn’t happen, you started telling yourself that you didn’t care if you heard from him. you’ve actually been waiting for this moment, replaying what it would look like if he came back, the things you’d say to him and how you’d say them.

now, looking out at him just standing there, you’re frozen. every scenario you’ve replayed in your head, all of the emotional venting and blow out screaming that you’ve rehearsed and you can’t recall a single scene. you think about leaving him out there, about telling him to go away through the door or just pretending like you’re not home.

“i can see the shadow of your feet under the door,” toji calls out, muffled by the barrier between you guys, and yet it still rings out through your entire body. 

you slowly open the door. though, even if it took an entire hour to open the door, you’re not sure it would’ve mattered. you don’t think time is something that could’ve prepared you for seeing him. seeing him didn’t even prepare you for seeing him. you don’t know what to say, so you don’t say anything, folding your arms over your chest. you just wait. 

“i-,” he starts, but then immediately stops, half sighs/half scoffs as he leans his chest forward, eyes scanning the inside of your apartment, for what exactly you’re not sure. 

“what, toji?” you ask, voice stronger- and more annoyed- than you anticipate it being. you’re grateful for that. “why are you here?”

“shit, this is already hard enough for me t-,” he says, shaking his head, corner of his mouth tugging upward in frustration. 

you narrow your eyes, cutting him off, “sorry, this is hard for you?” you feel like laughing or strangling him more than you do crying, which is a desired outcome in this situation, you suppose. “you know that you haven’t talked to me in three months, right? you haven’t talked to me?” you ask, and you can feel your pulse in your wrist and your chest now, because the lines are coming back to you slowly, one by one, circling your brain, fueling your confidence. 

“yeah, no, of course i know that,” he combats, like you’re the one that’s being an asshole right now. 

you smooth your fingertips against your eyes, blocking the sight of him out for just a second before gesturing with your hand as you ask, “are you going to answer my question or…?”

“look, i said that this is hard enough as it is for me to just be here,” he snaps, and if you were a little less annoyed, if he hadn’t come at this whole thing exactly how he was, you might’ve clocked the desperation in his voice or the uncertainty in his pupils. 

“do you know how fucking stupid you sound right now?” you ask. it’s a rhetorical question. 

one week after he left, you were certain he was going to come back. you and toji had gone a week without seeing each other or even speaking. you had even gone two weeks. sure, the conversation felt much more serious and, sure, really deep down you knew this time was different, but still, you held out dumb hope. 

one month after he left and you realized this was not just him being weird and distant. this was something brand new that you had never had to deal with before. you were still trying to figure out how to navigate it when the two month realization hit: that maybe he wasn’t coming back at all, ever, maybe you had done something wrong. if he had shown back up on your doorstep during that time this conversation would’ve gone very differently you think. 

but he didn’t. he showed up at month three when your reaction to random memories of toji were no longer tears and guilt, but laughter and bitterness. there weren’t many things that toji could say right now that would warrant anything more than you standing in your doorway for 4 minutes or less. 

“i-,” he starts, but then sighs. he looks left, down the hallway of your building, eyes shifting from object to object out of your view. 

“please don’t waste anymore of my time,” you reply and it’s softer than you intend. you thought it’d come out angrier. that seems like a theme for you tonight: everything sounding different in your head. when he doesn’t reply, you start a countdown, promising yourself that when you make it to 15, you’ll close the door in his face. you only make it to 13.

“i’m not here to waste your time,” he says, with no air of disgust or annoyance, the first halfway decent thing he’s said to you tonight. “i-,” he huffs again, “i’m here to say sorry. and-,” he hesitates. 

you wait, just listening. the longer that he hesitates, the more time you have to think about what he might say and how you’re standing with your door open for the entire floor to hear your conversation. you’re not sure what’s worse, having this conversation in the confines of familiar grounds or the openness of neutrality.

“and ask… are you already seeing someone else?” he finishes. 

you’re dumbfounded, blinking at him slowly before responding in the only way you can think of right now, “goodnight, toji.” you shake your head, cursing yourself for expecting anything more.

“no,” he rushes to say and then stumbles over the rest, “i- i tried to see somebody else, quite a bit of other people actually…”

you scoff, squinting at him, saying more sternly this time, with an added attestation of closing the door in his face, “goodnight, toji.”

he reaches out with a quick reflex, grabbing the door before you’ve barely even moved it. “wait, no, i- fuck,” he mutters, scrambling, “can i just come in?”

“so that was your plan then?” you drop your hand from the door. “to come back here unannounced, be shitty to me, ask if i’m sleeping with anyone, tell me that you’ve slept with lots of people, and then ask if you can come inside?” you ask.

“i didn’t have a plan-,” he replies.

“clearly,” you interject.

“but i’m trying,” he finishes, and you’re waiting for there to be more, to explain exactly how this constitutes as trying, because you don’t really see that here.

“fucking christ, toji, you’re going to have to try harder than whatever the fuck this is,” you sneer. 

“we- we had a good thing,” he tries again. you don’t understand how every time he opens his mouth it gets worse and worse. why are you even entertaining this anymore?

“fuck you, man,” you scoff, and it feels like all of the anger has left your body, and in the void where it once was present is nothing but disinterest. 

“no, not like that,” he backpedals. maybe if he would say more than four words at a time, or four better words at a time, then you wouldn’t have to keep filling in the blanks or being pissed off or- “for the last six months of our relationship, i didn’t sleep with anyone else,” he admits like it’s the answer to all of your problems. the word relationship burns at the forefront of your mind so hard that you don’t realize what he’s said for 10 whole seconds.

“i, so what?” your voice is unconvincing even to your own ears. you had slept with other people even 2 months before that last day. that wasn’t the issue. you guys were allowed to sleep with other people. you had an explicit conversation about the fact that you could sleep with other people, something along the lines of, hey, we can see other people right? yeah, we’re not fucking dating. okay, just checking.

the so what, you had already answered for yourself, inner voice replying to your own question, screaming, you guys were exclusive, unknowingly to each other, for 2 whole months before you confessed and he left. 

his answer is much different. he says, “so nothing really. i just- i needed you to know that.”

“well, what the fuck do you want me to do with that?” you ask, and it comes out bitter and discouraged, but what you really mean is, please tell me what you want, please, can you just tell me that you missed me. 

“whatever you want,” he answers instead.

you take a deep breath, a million emotions coursing through your veins and up your throat. “you know what?” you say, and it doesn’t sound angry, it sounds playful, “no, seriously,” you smile and then you laugh, “fuck you, toji.” you close your mouth like you’re done talking, like that’s all you needed to say, but your heart disagrees, forces more words out into the air no matter how hard your jaw is clenched shut.

“you show up here and you’re an asshole and then you’re decent and then you say shit like that and then- then i ask you what you fucking want from this, what you’re trying to play at here and you tell me whatever i want?” you say, exasperated. 

“what i wanted was for you not to leave me three fucking months ago. that’s what i wanted,” you spit, “i wanted you to tell me this shit three fucking months ago before i sat alone, by myself, sad and then angry, and the entire time, fucking missing you, you fucking asshole. that’s what i wanted.”

and then it’s there, out in the open, airing for the two of you to witness and to face, and no matter what happens, you know you’ve done everything and said everything that you’ve needed to. he’s quiet for a few moments and you let him be, not tapping your foot or rolling your eyes or being pissed off, but just letting it play out. if this is the last time you ever see toji, why not just let it play out?

“okay,” he says, and it’s soft in a way you’ve only ever heard from him one time in your entire relationship. “i’m sorry.” he pauses. “i really don’t know how to do this,” he admits and you believe him. it feels different from when he told you something along those lines earlier, but you have a feeling that this is what he was trying to say all along. 

“do what?” you push, because your mind is making assumptions, but if he’s going to prove anything to you, he needs to start now. 

“ask for forgiveness?” he says, like he’s thinking out loud, “apologize? date someone?” you don’t say anything. you’re looking for something more concrete than that. it takes a handful of uncomfortable seconds before he says, “actually care about someone.”

“and do you?” you ask.

his lips press into a thin line, his eyes shift from left to right again. you can feel him getting antsy with the conversation and he’s barely said one vulnerable thing. you look at him, eyes soft and pleading, silently begging him that if he’s grown from this, you’ll let him back in, you swear, but you’ve been hurt before and you know what you’re worth, so you’re going to need some sort of evidence as collateral. “yeah,” he mumbles, but it’s audible. “you,” he says like it isn’t obvious, and it’s quiet and daunted, but you really appreciate the effort.

“okay,” you say, and that’s all you say.

“okay?” he questions, confused. “that’s it?” 

“yup,” you say, but your small smile and the fact that you’re not slamming the door in his face again gives away a bit more than that. 

“can i… come in?” he asks, hesitant, like he’s still being tested.

you shake your head, hand gripped onto the edge of the door. “no,” you say, scrunching up your nose and furrowing your eyebrows. “because if you come in here, we’re going to have sex,” you admit, half because it’s the truth and half just to see the look on his face. (it’s worth it.)

“wait,” he says, placing his palm flat against your door, but not moving it. his hand is now inside of your apartment, the only part of his body that’s made it past this invisible barrier of hallway and your place. “that sounds like a great thing. why am i not allowed in?”

“because this is me having self-control,” you explain, placing a hand on his shoulder and pushing the small portion of him that’s crossed the division back into the hallway. when you feel his skin against your pinky, soft fabric of that familiar shirt underneath your palm, you almost make a fool of yourself right after you say the word self-control, but you remind yourself what’s at stake here, what you really want. 

“i came all the way out here to see you-,” he starts, but he doesn’t make a move to replace his hand on your door, letting his arm fall back to his side. it’s for the better, too, because you’re not sure how much more self-control you have already, no matter how much you tell yourself about longevity and whatever. 

“if you really care,” you interrupt him, using his few vulnerable words against him, “and you weren't just trying to sleep with me tonight,” you pause, letting those words sink in, “you will go home and you will call me tomorrow morning and we will get breakfast- the least sexy meal of them all- and then maybe coffee if i enjoy hanging out with you outside of just having sex with you, and then we will go from there.”

“i-,” he starts to protest, but you cock your head. the truth is, if he said another word, reached out and touched your cheek or your hip or really anywhere on your body, if he kissed you, or just walked inside of your apartment and sat down on your couch, you wouldn’t have stopped him. you might even have gotten breakfast with him anyways. he doesn’t know that, you don’t think, but even if he does, he doesn’t act on it. he bows his head slightly, conceding, and says, “okay. i will just… talk to you… tomorrow… then.”

you nod. “goodnight, toji,” you say, hand on the door, closing it as slowly as you opened it. 

“uh, yea, night,” he says back. you won’t tell anyone, and neither will he, about the stupidest small smile you see on his lips as he leaves your apartment that night or the fact that he wakes up extra early the next morning, muttering under his breath about how ridiculous dating is before he calls you at 9:30 on the dot.

ᯓᡣ𐭩 ɢᴏᴊᴏ [ 3 ᴡᴇᴇᴋs ]

being away from ɢᴏᴊᴏ feels like detoxing. not from like hard drugs or alcohol, but… coffee. 

like you know it’s not necessarily good for you, drinking it every day, but it’s a habit you’ve had for a while now and you just can’t seem to break it. it’s not really hurting anything in your day-to-day and you’ve been doing it for so long that it’s probably fine to just keep doing it.

but out of nowhere it hits you that maybe drinking coffee as much as you do is a waste of money and even if you don’t feel the negative effects constantly in your daily routine, you remind yourself of the times where you could distinctly feel the thump of your heart and the unsteady of your hands. you recall the time that you stayed up all night for the promise of a cup of coffee to get you through the day. in every memory that you’ve ever had in your entire college career, you’re holding a cup of coffee.

so one day you make the choice to stop. you stop buying coffee from coffee shops and pods for your coffee maker and cups from diners and accepting free ones from friends. you don’t really need a good cup of coffee as badly as you think you do. and it’s stupid, you think, because it’s just coffee. it doesn’t mean anything. just because you’ve been drinking it consistently for quite awhile doesn’t mean it has any sort of hold over you. it’s just coffee. 

but then the headaches come and the irritation sets in and nights are hard, but for some reason mornings are unbearable, and you feel antsy all the time and you haven’t left your room in the past three days and the only thing you want is a cup of fucking coffee and you can’t relapse with coffee; it’s fucking coffee. 

yeah, being away from gojo feels a lot like detoxing from coffee. 

you try to just not see him. it’ll be easier for you if you just don’t see him, you tell yourself. you go out of your way to avoid his walking path on campus and you refuse to leave your dorm when you don’t absolutely need to in fear of bumping into him or worse, just seeing him from afar, and god forbid you even come within three streets of the corner where his apartment resides. you block his number and you delete social media off of your phone for the time being, too many mutual friends to make casualties, and you do not let yourself think about him. not falling asleep, not when you wake up, not while you’re doing homework, not in your dreams or in the shower, not when something reminds you of him, not when you see his favorite show on your recently watched, not when you really need a good cup of coffee. 

and it works for a while.

but not forever.

three weeks into your detox and you’re doing such a good job at not thinking about gojo that you mix up his monday schedule with his tuesday schedule and on your way back to your dorm, you see him. if you keep walking at the same pace that you’re walking, you will collide with him. if neither of you do anything, one of you will get hurt. 

you look down at your phone, hoping, in the forefront of your mind, that he didn’t see it was you. (in the back of your mind, you’re hoping that he’s the one to break the longest bout of silence the two of you have had since you met.) when you sneak a glance, he’s already almost reached you, jogging to catch up with you. “hey,” he calls out, just in case you haven’t seen him.

“hi,” you say, stopping in place and letting him approach you.

“i’ve been trying to get ahold of you,” he offers, like you wouldn’t have known that.

“oh, sorry, haven’t been on my phone,” you lie. he knows that you’re lying. he can tell that you’re lying, so you don’t really know why you lie in the first place. maybe to prove a point. maybe to make him feel bad.

“look, about…,” he trails off, trying to remember how long he’s been without you, “about that… day…,” he opts for instead. 

you put your hand up, waving the topic off. you mean to say something like, don’t worry about it, see you later, but it comes out like, “we don’t have to talk about that here.” here. fucking here. if you would’ve left those four letters out, it would’ve been a perfect line to walk away with, but you don’t. your stupid coffee-craving brain tacks it on, hopeful. 

“right,” he says, nodding, “should we get coffee maybe, then, or?”

it’s not out of the ordinary, or it didn’t used to be, but now it feels taboo. you want to snap and ask him if he’s sure, because coffee sounds a bit too much like a date for people that aren’t together, but you realize very quickly that the irritation from your coffee detox is maybe a little bit too much to hold in without any closure. “sure,” you agree, “i just got done with class so we cou-.”

“i know,” he says, because three weeks hasn’t erased your schedule from his brain either. 

you order an iced tea. you’re still convinced you’re done with coffee for good. he looks surprised at your choice, like he’s never seen you order an iced tea before, because he hasn’t, but he doesn’t say anything. you sip on it throughout unpleasant pleasantries and it’s refreshing, but it’s lacking something. in fact, the longer that you drink this stupid drink that has caffeine anyways and isn’t as good, the irritation bubbles higher and higher until- “can i start?” you ask, tapping your fingers against the table in rhythmic succession. 

“yeah, sure,” he says, bringing his coffee to his lips and taking a sip.

“if at any point in this conversation your answer to anything i have to say is that we weren’t together, i don’t think we should have this conversation,” you reason, and you mean it, but his reaction takes you aback. you notice the smallest flinch when you say weren’t.

“i wasn’t-,” he shakes his head, sighing, “no, i wasn’t going to say that.”

“okay,” you say, dragging your fingertips along the condensation on the side of your glass. “then what were you going to say?”

he thinks for a minute, like he didn’t assume that he’d get this far when he brought up the idea of coffee. “i wanted to stop you from leaving,” he says.

“but you didn’t,” you rebuttal.

“i didn’t,” he affirms. it’s quiet again. you can hear the scrape of the cups against the table as they’re picked up, drank from, and put back down. the chatter in the coffee shop drones over the sounds of hesitance and nerves. “i’m sorry,” he says after a while.

“so, do you think we were together?” you ask, “and be honest. i’ll know if you lie.” you search his face as he answers, and the only thing that comes up is another flinch when you talk in past tense again.

“yeah,” he says, honest. “being apart from you these past three weeks has been one of the shittiest things i’ve ever been through.”

“ever?” you ask, quirking your eyebrow, as if it isn’t somewhat true for you too. 

he nods in response, continuing, “it’s been hard.” he pauses. “i’m sorry i was so shitty.”

“pretty shitty, yeah,” you agree, but you can’t hide how nice it feels to just talk with him again, to call him shitty and to sit across from him at a coffee shop table. “i’m sorry i ghosted you these past few weeks,” because it deserves to be said too. 

“i really missed you,” he says, and he doesn’t hide from it. he looks you directly in your eyes and you can tell that he wants to reach across the table and hold your hand. you want that too. 

“me or just, like, sleeping with me?” you ask, somewhat terrified of the answer, scanning his face for the truth once again. 

he laughs softly and, try as you might, you can’t stop the fluttering in your stomach or the warmth in your cheeks hearing that for the first time in too long. “please, i haven’t thought about sleeping with you once,” he jokes.

“oh, no? not at all?” you ask, scoffing lightly, a tiny smirk threatening to break.

he forces a thoughtful frown, shakes his head dramatically and says, “can’t say that i have.” you’re laughing now, but through smile-squinted eyes you can still tell that he’s actually being genuine. “not really,” he says. 

“so just me then?” you ask to make sure.

“just you,” he affirms. “a lot of just you.” you hum, content with his answer, but he gives you even more than thought he ever could, “i don’t want to just go back to the way things were. i don’t think that’s enough for me anymore.”

even though you’re sure a response like this would’ve sent waves of shock through your entire body, it doesn’t. it just feels right. you reply quickly, “good. i don’t think it’s enough for me either.” you reach across the table. the back of your hand brushes against his, and then past it. you wrap your fingers around the handle of his coffee cup and bring it to your lips. 

he doesn’t protest or snatch it away from you or make a snarky comment. he places his chin in the palm of his hand, elbow against the surface of the table, and smiles at you. you take a sip from his mug, warmth spreading through every bit of your body. 

why would you deprive yourself of coffee when it brings you so much comfort?

ᯓᡣ𐭩 ʙᴏɴᴜs! ʜɪɢᴜʀᴜᴍᴀ [ ɴ/ᴀ ]

you’re not exactly sure how many times something has to happen before it becomes a theme. 

ᡣ𐭩 •｡ꪆৎ ˚⋅

“do you -huff- want to -huff- have kids someday?” higuruma asks from beneath you, palms resting on the tops of your knees, thumbs massaging up to the insides of your thighs. 

you slow your bounces and then you stop them completely. you blink at him once and then twice. “that is a really wild thing to ask while you’re inside of someone,” you scoff, searching his face for any kind of tone indicator. is he being serious? is he just saying something to get a rise out of you? is this a kink thing?

he smirks, placing his hands on your hips, coaxing you to continue your movements, and you do. you lift yourself off of him, slowly at first, but then picking up speed as you chase the feeling you lost when he asked the question. you’re breathless when he asks again, the repeated question no longer stilling you. the second time around it feels almost normal. “do you?” he asks on his exhale.

you shake your head and then tilt it side to side, closing your eyes so all of the conflicting fast paced movements don’t dizzy you. “i- don’t- know-,” you huff, “maybe- conversation- for- a- different- setting.” each word is punctuated by the slap of your thighs against his hips. he nods, completely okay with that answer, and then just drops it.

ᡣ𐭩 •｡ꪆৎ ˚⋅

“shit,” you say in realization, hips circling, fingers combing through his hair. you pull your head away from his shoulder, pushing yourself up to look him in the eyes. “wait, how did your meeting go today?” you ask, and this time neither of you miss a beat. 

when he slows to think about it, you pick up his slack, rolling your hips, feeling the drag of him inside of you, a breathy moan floating up your chest. he answers over your noises, “really good actually.”

“everything as planned?” you ask further, genuinely just as invested in this as you are in the act. 

he nods, smiling. “yeah, to a t,” he says, wrapping his arms around your lower back and pulling you against his chest. he kisses the side of your temple, holding you in place with a tight grip as he lifts his hips off of the bed, thrusting into you. “surprised you didn’t ask as soon as i came through the door.”

you shake your head against his shoulder, placing a soft kiss against his collarbone. “was thinking about it all day,” you explain. he fucks into you faster in response and it feels like a reward for caring about the things that are important to him. “but when- shit- when you got home…,” you grunt, “it completely- ah, fuck- completely slipped my- ah- mind, s-sorry.”

“ts alright, pretty.” he nudges his nose against your cheek, peeling your attention to his face. your cheek rests against his shoulder and you blink at him, focus dipping from the topic at hand as you feel that familiar tightening in your core. he can see it written all over your face, so he drops his head to kiss you, silently communicating that you don’t have to worry about finishing the conversation right now. he’ll bring it up again in a bit.

ᡣ𐭩 •｡ꪆৎ ˚⋅

“should we get married?” he asks, back up against the headboard, looking you directly in your eyes, gaze following yours as you rise and fall. 

“you are not proposing to me while i’m riding you,” you say, shaking your head, but you don’t still or slow. conversations like this in a setting like this just don’t phase you anymore. honestly, it wouldn’t surprise you if he did propose right now. you’re not even sure you’d say no.

the corner of his lip tugs upward and he exhales a laugh as he leans forward the smallest bit to kiss you. “i’m not, i’m not,” he assures, “why? would you say no?” 

you’re quiet for a minute, not because you don’t know the answer, but to keep him on his toes. you won’t lie to him, you don’t think, but you don’t want to come right out and say it. his questions are rhetorical anyways, half-jokes that he’s not expecting serious answers to; you’ve known higuruma well enough and long enough to be confident of that. you could’ve replied with an eye roll and a scoff and nothing else and he would’ve dropped it. instead, however, you answer, “course not. i’d say yes in a second.”

he nearly comes inside of you right there.

ᡣ𐭩 •｡ꪆৎ ˚⋅

maybe it becomes a theme when someone points it out. 

you can’t tell if it’s intentional or not, the way that the two of you keep having these serious conversations during sex. you know that you don’t do it on purpose; things will just hit you during the repetitive motions and you worry you’ll forget them and you know that higuruma won’t judge you for just saying them, so you do. whether this is the case for him, you’re not sure. 

but the interruptions just keep getting more casual. it starts with big conversations: weddings and promotions and thoughtful decisions, and then it’s like you just start remembering things in this position: work drama and mundane did you knows. it’s almost as if starting with big topics just made it seem so easy to talk about anything like this. 

it didn’t help, you think, that it’s just always easy to talk about anything with higuruma. you guys have been together, officially together, for over four years now, and conversation, no matter the topic or severity or setting, is something you’ve never struggled with. you continue to not struggle with it, inside of the bedroom and out. 

you’re not sure what about the position and the moment makes you so susceptible to remembering little things that you want to tell higuruma when he’s not around, and vice versa. in fact, you’re not even convinced that it’s something about the action that jogs your memory anyway, it’s probably just a really weird and common coincidence.

and then one night you can’t find your keys. 

you’ve searched everywhere for them, in your car, in your bag, every nook of your room, the places where they normally are, higuruma’s coat pocket just in case, and then everywhere else in your guys’ apartment. they’re nowhere to be seen. 

when higuruma walks through the front door, even from where you’re searching in the kitchen, you hear him let out an elongated, “woah.”

you pop your head into the doorway, “don’t say anything about the mess.” you can see his eyes resting on the overturned couch cushions and then on the various opened drawers. “hey,” you warn, pointing towards him as you walk quickly into the living room. you throw your arms around him tightly and give him a small greeting peck. it’s routine at this point; if you don’t do it your whole night feels off. “i said don’t say anything.”

he lets you hang off of his neck as he puts both hands up in surrender. “i didn’t say shit,” he says, pressing a kiss into the side of your neck, then moving his hands to your waist, “the fuck happened here though?” he laughs against your skin and you can feel the vibrations travel to your fingers and toes. 

you pull away from him, shaking your head. now that you’re back in the living room, it’s like you have to start this room’s search over too. you start checking under the couch and in the hall closet. “lost my fucking keys,” you grumble, smoothing your palms over your face, “i swear i’ve looked everywhere. i just can’t remember where i left them when i got home.”

“did you check th-,” he asks, walking into the kitchen, grateful that you’re not in there with him or he knows you’d yell at him for the way his eyes go wide at the clutter and chaos everywhere. 

you cut him off, “wherever you’re about to say, probably yes, ughhh. i’ve retraced my steps, i’ve looked in places that are fucking stupid to look in like every pair of shoes we own and in the fucking guest bedroom pillowcases. i’ve looked everywhere.”

from where he’s stood in the kitchen now, he can see you scrambling as you vent. he leans against the wall, “well, not everywhere or you would’ve found it by now.”

“i’ll kill you,” you say, eyes snapping up to meet his to show how serious you are.

he just laughs, “i’ve got a pretty good lawyer, you might not want to do that.”

“good legal can’t help you when you’re dead,” you snap, almost completely joking. he meets you back in the living room, helping you check all the places you’ve already checked. 

15 minutes pass and then 35 and then he stops abruptly. “oh my god, i have an idea,” he says, and you look at him, hopeful. “you know when you usually remember things?” 

your first reaction is joking annoyance, picking up a throw pillow and sending it his way. he catches it and sets it back down on the couch. “i’m serious!” he yell-laughs. 

you throw another pillow at him as your second reaction sets in. “that’s not going to fucking work,” you say.

“how do you know?” he asks.

“because,” you say, trying to come up with a good answer other than just blind doubt, “because i don’t remember things while i’m riding you. it’s not a fucking superpower.”

“you don’t know that,” he jokes back and braces to be hit with another pillow. “okay, okay, but i’m being serious! besides, what’s the worst thing that can happen? you don’t remember and we’ve had sex, how horrible,” he reasons.

you let your arms fall, pillow in your hands resting against the tops of your thighs. you look at him, thinking, which, in hindsight, was a dumb thing to do, because higuruma can see the contemplation on your face. 

eight minutes later and he’s inside of you and you’re the most embarrassed you’ve ever been.

“this is so stupid,” you mumble. you haven’t moved an inch after slowly lowering yourself onto him. you’re fully seated against his hips, hands smoothing over your face and then lingering there, covering. 

he reaches up, fingers soft and kind as he wraps them around your wrists, pulling them away from your face. “ts not stupid,” he reassures, but you’re not convinced. you groan, turning to look away from him, but that just won’t do. he reaches up again, soft grip on your chin coaxing your gaze back to his. “hey,” he says softly, “just focus here, angel.”

you listen, somewhat, mind still flickering back to why you’re even riding him in the first place. “just enjoy yourself, okay,” he tries again, rolling his hips upwards, pressing himself inside of you as deep as he can. you close your eyes, and it’s quite easy to just focus on the feeling of being as full as you are right now. “good,” he whispers, “just like that.”

it doesn’t take long for you to lose yourself completely, moving on your own, letting the whimpers and whines take over any other thought you might think to say, chasing that feeling rather than worrying about whatever you’ve lost. 

it all kinda clicks at once: where your keys are and why you always remember shit when you’re like this.

in the midst of everyday noise, so many things get lost: important and unimportant thoughts alike. but now you’re not worried about anything else. you don’t care about anything else right now. you don’t have to. you don’t want to. and in this state of letting everything go, mindless and blissful, some things slip back through the cracks.

you collapse onto higuruma’s chest, spent and happily aware of this new revelation that you have not, for once, shared in the middle of sex, but kept quiet as a come down surprise. you hum softly as he rubs up and down your back, hum again as he presses a kiss into your forehead. “m sorry it didn’t work, angel,” he murmurs. 

you turn your head, ear pressed right against his heart as you gaze up at him. “i left them in the fridge,” you reveal, and he knits his eyebrows together. 

you assume that he’s going to say something about how did you leave them in the fridge? or why are they there? but instead he questions, “what? and you didn’t tell me until now?” like you’ve harbored a life long secret. you laugh softly, snaking your hands up and scratching your nails against his scalp, playing with the ends of his hair. “don’t think this is going to get you out of it,” he says, “‘ts my favorite thing when you just blurt shit while you’re on me.”

you can feel the warmth in your cheeks and your chest as you breathe a laugh. “you’ve never told me that before,” you murmur. 

“think it’s cute when you just can’t wait to tell me things,” he says, “feels more intimate than being inside of you.”

“ew,” you say, scrunching up your nose, even though you weirdly agree. 

he just laughs in response. a few seconds of quiet comfort pass before he backtracks, “wait, why the fuck are your keys in the fridge?” 

and you tell him all about it, about the day that you’ve had and how you remembered you hadn’t drank enough water so you were refilling your bottle from the pitcher in the fridge as soon as you got home from work, but your hands were full so you set your keys on top of the leftovers from yesterday, but then you had to go and set everything down and the fridge closed and by the time you left the kitchen you remembered you needed to do something else… and it just keeps going.

you tell him as you’re taking a shower and as you’re eating dinner together and as he’s brushing his teeth and you’re washing your face and laying in bed and setting your alarms. every room in the house is a mess, but you’ll deal with that later, you decide. you rest your chin on his shoulder. “and how was your day?” you ask, even though the clock reads much later than it should for how much sleep you both should get before you’re up early for work tomorrow. 

nevermind that, he decides, and tells you all about it anyways.

ᯓᡣ𐭩 ʙᴏɴᴜs! ɴᴀɴᴀᴍɪ [ ɴ/ᴀ ]

“can i ask you something and when i ask you, you’ll know i don’t mean anything bad by it at all because i love you more than everything in the world?” you ask, putting down your phone only after you’ve finished your sentence. 

you wait a few seconds for nanami to take in what you’ve asked. he reaches over to the night stand for his bookmark and sticks it between the pages. he shuts it with an audible shuffling of paper and a sharp thump. 

nanami has been with you long enough to not typically be surprised by your out of the blue… questions. (dronings? is there a word like droning but the connotation is more positive? like you talk at him a lot and he loves to hear the ramblings in your brain, but sometimes he is just trying to read his book before bed. whatever that word is.)

he places the book on his lap and then turns his chest towards you completely. you now have his full attention. “is that a yes?” you ask. 

he inhales deeply, “if i say no, will you still ask it?”

you think on the answer to that question, really mulling it over before shaking your head. “no, i don’t think so.”

“then yes,” he smirks, “i suppose i have to say yes then.”

“great,” you say, tossing your phone onto your bedside table with a clunk. you sit up straighter, rocking forward to fully adjust your position on your side of the bed. you put your hand on his thigh and cross your legs, letting your knee rest on the side of his comforter covered hip. “do you ever regret not dating more?”

it definitely takes him by surprise. he thought you might drop another weirdly specific hypothetical about would he love you if… or request a glass of water even though you already told him tonight when he was getting into bed and he asked if you wanted one, that you did not. 

now he’s the one mulling over your question and despite how nerve wracking it could be to wait for an answer to a what if that involves not you, you’re not anxious in the slightest. you’re quiet, just waiting for his answer, and when he finally speaks, you know exactly why you weren’t scared in the first place, “i’ve honestly never thought about it since i met you.”

“really?” you ask, and you’re mostly feeling very lucky that nanami is yours and you are his, but there is an underlying feeling of guilt that he’s unintentionally caused with this statement. 

he nods. “sounds like you have though,” he says, and it’s not even a little bit judgmental. it sounds like he’s imploring you to keep talking, like he wants to hear exactly what you’re thinking, why you brought it up in the first place.

“i wouldn’t trade this security, this love, exactly what we have, you for anything in the world,” you start to explain, and it’s nothing but the truth, “but sometimes i just think about that first night when we were in that bar. the flirting, the risks, that feeling of not knowing where the night is going to end up. sometimes i think about that a little bit.”

he hums, thinking about that night, and after a few seconds of silence, he speaks up again, “first date nerves,” he nods, “now that i think about it, i miss those.”

you cock your head at him. that’s a weird part of dating to miss, you think, but then he explains further, “like when we went out on our first date and i didn’t know what you were going to wear or if you liked the restaurant i picked or if you’d let me pay for your food.”

“or if i’d take you back to mine,” you joke, raising your eyebrows at him, but really you’re burning inside. your cheeks feel warm just hearing about these feelings he’s never mentioned to you before. 

“yeah, that too,” he laughs, getting back on track, “like, i’m still finding out new things about you all the time, but back then i was discovering who you were every second we were together, and that- that felt like…”

“like finding out soulmates were real?” you ask, because that’s what it felt like to you, that same exact phenomenon he’s describing. he smiles at you warmly, like you’ve just put to words what he felt he could only experience. “i know what you mean,” you smile. 

he leans forward, cupping your cheek with his hand and guiding you towards him. he kisses you softly, placing his other hand on your other cheek and kissing you harder. “should we go on a first date again?” he asks against your lips, barely pulling away to speak. 

you laugh, but when you pull away, you can tell he’s not joking. “what?” you ask, “what do you mean?” you’re already blushing though, already feeling the exact first date nerves he was just talking about. 

“let’s go on a first date,” he repeats himself. “i’ll pick you up at your front door and i’ll choose the restaurant and it’ll be a surprise and i’ll ask you questions that i’d ask you on a first date even if i know the answers to all of them and more at this point.”

you’re smiling so big that your cheeks are sore as you nod fervently at the concept. “okay, yeah,” you agree. 

“right, so we probably shouldn’t kiss or make out or sleep with each other until then to really play into the whole thing?” he teases, and you roll your eyes in response. 

“you’re very funny, kento,” you say, leaning in, brushing your nose against his. he doesn’t even last a second, closing the gap with a small peck and then another and then another and then a much longer one and then he’s putting the book on his nightstand so he can pull you into his lap. 

ᡣ𐭩 •｡ꪆৎ ˚⋅

you get a text 5 minutes before 7 that nanami is going to be 3 minutes late picking you up. the text looks a little weird underneath a thread of:

>> nami <3 >> how’s work baby

<< read << if you love me you’ll come and pull the fire alarm to get me out of here early :) :) :)

>> nami <3 >> fine but that’s a class four felony in some cases. will you be providing legal assistance or should i look elsewhere????

<< read << how do u know that?? nerd!!!

>> nami <3 >> google tbh. 

<< read << wow. first i have to stay at work all day alone and sad and now i get to know my bf isn’t sexy and off the dome smart about everything. :(

>> nami <3 >> goodbye.

<< read << :(

>> nami <3 >> i love you

<< read << :)

you bite back the urge to reply with something you’d say to him after knowing him for years. rereading the text and thinking back to your first date, it makes you giggle. actually, it makes you kinda nervous. you text back a polite no worries! take your time! and he replies with a heart and you truly feel like you’re dating for the first time again. you feel honest to god giddy. 

arriving to the restaurant, you are genuinely surprised. you thought after knowing him as long as you have and having gone to as many restaurants with him as you have, you’d go back to somewhere nice you’ve already been. but that isn’t the case. 

he drives you to a pop-up restaurant 20 minutes out of town that you’ve never even heard of, but is the cutest place you’ve ever been, and the entire time he can’t stop sneaking respectful glances at you. he won’t stop telling you how nice you look. he even apologizes for it by the sixth time, pushing your chair in at the restaurant saying, “i know i keep mentioning it, and i’m sorry, but if i said it every time i thought it, it’d be a never ending string.”

if he keeps this up, you’re going to feel like you’re cheating. this seriously feels like a first date, like you’ve been in a relationship for over 5 years and you’re also going on a first date and it’s really messing with your head, but you never want it to stop. 

he stays true to his word, asking you questions he already knows the answers to, but hearing them again, they sound brand new. he doesn’t know if he’s just forgotten some of them or if the testaments of time have weathered your answers just enough to sound unfamiliar, but either way, he’s hanging on to every word. 

by the end of the night, you’ve truly convinced yourself that there are stakes to this date, like if you play your cards wrong, you won’t get to keep seeing this incredible guy. he pays the whole bill, even though you insist on getting your meal or at the very least dessert. he says, “you can try next time too.” and you can’t breathe, you feel so lucky. 

“i’m sorry if this seems forward, but i’d really like to keep seeing you tonight,” you say as the waiter takes away the paid bill, and your heart is thumping so violently against your chest, you swear he can feel it too. 

he shakes his head, “perfectly forward,” he smiles, “your place or mine?” you break character for the first time tonight, giggling at the reality of the question, hiding behind your hand as you do. “what’s so funny?” he asks, but he’s grinning just as big as you are. 

“just thinking about how dreary my life would be if i hadn’t gone on this first date,” you say, and it’s a little too meta, but he’ll let it slide, because he’s a bit flustered at the sentiment. “mine is great,” you answer, placing your hand on his, rubbing the tips of your fingers against his knuckles. 

everything about the rest of the night feels like a first too. it feels like your first kiss in front of your front door. it feels like he’s seeing “your” apartment for the first time. it feels like you’re making out on your couch for the first time. 

it feels like the first time he’s ever been inside of you. 

when he pushes deeper into you, eyes on yours shut tight, you tell yourself that you want to pretend you’re on a first date every single day of your life. you can’t stop whimpering, pleading for him to never stop fucking you ever, please don’t stop, please never fucking stop. 

you break character for the second time when you’re right on the edge. he keeps looking down at you with so much love in his eyes and his hands all over you feel like they know every inch of you, and you can’t stop yourself. you grab his face in your hands, “kento, baby, please, ‘m gonna- ‘m sorry, i- fuck, please. i love you, fuck,” you whine, and he can’t stop himself either, hips stuttering, head falling against your shoulder as he feels you clenching around him as he empties himself inside of you, murmuring how much he loves you right back. 

the way you’ve been feeling all night: blissful and coy, it’s not because it’s a first date, it’s because he’s nanami. it’s because he’s orchestrated the entire night and no matter how “new” everything feels, the underlying foundation of that newness, and the reason everything feels so good, is familiarity and safety. 

“i’m sorry that i-,” you breathe, but he stops you, reaching his hand up to drag his fingertips against your lips, and you laugh, pressing a soft kiss into them. “okay, okay,” you say, and he places his hand back down by his side. “done with the first date stuff, just want to be yours again,” you murmur. 

he scoffs, light, and you can hear his smile in it. he falls over onto his back, pulling you into his chest and kissing the top of your head. “never weren’t,” he mumbles against your hair. “always will be,” he mumbles again, holding you tighter. 

“good,” you say back, settling into his arms like that’s the only thing you know to be true in the entire world. you wouldn’t trade that truth for a million first dates. 

sure, holding your breath at quick witted flirts and stolen glances is nice, but it’s a lot nicer just knowing that you will never be loved better and you will never love harder. 

♡ ʀᴇʙʟᴏɢs ᴀɴᴅ ɪɴᴛᴇʀᴀᴄᴛɪᴏɴs ᴍᴇᴀɴ ᴛʜᴇ ᴡᴏʀʟᴅ ♡ no bc the yelling really worked very well idk yell at me more to write a continuation for toji (maybe also gojo bc hes the only one i havent written even an inkling of smut for) idk i'm just thinking of so many scenes idk throw hcs at me in my inbox IDK! toji dating for the first time? got me fucked UP

ᡣ𐭩 ᴛᴀɢs ᡣ𐭩 @igocrazyeveryday @vernasce-blogs @minty86 @abrielletargaryen @pompompompompompompom @mysticrays @lilolpotato @thisisew @pnkoo @optimisticsandwichgladiator @ryumurin @cisseadven @multi-fandom-fanfic @noosayog @anxious-chick @mintleafwrites @(tried to tag some other folks but couldnt!!)

[kentosbento]

hear me out, office sex with higuruma !!

WC: 2,2K

CONTENT WARNING: office sex, unprotected, soft bondage, dom hiromi, work colleagues, cumshot

⊹ ࣪ ˖ ⊹ ࣪ ˖ ⊹ ࣪ ˖ ⊹ ࣪ ˖ ⊹ ࣪ ˖ ⊹ ࣪ ˖ ⊹ ࣪ ˖ ⊹ ࣪ ˖ ⊹ ࣪ ˖ ⊹ ࣪ ˖ ⊹ ࣪ ˖ ⊹ ࣪ ˖ ⊹ ࣪ ˖ ⊹ ࣪ ˖

Higuruma was your colleague, working at the same law firm for years and eventually bumping into him from time to time. Higuruma was a quiet guy; he didn’t talk much, but he always had these goofy comments or shameless comebacks whenever someone pissed him off. He was a great lawyer, you admired him in a way. But he was also very, very hot—more than you could admit. Thankfully, you had a friend at the office, Mimiko, with whom you could rant about—what was obviously—your crush. But Mimiko was careless and clumsy. Never in a million years would you have thought that she’d let your conversation with her fully open on her computer while taking a break. Never in a million years would you have thought Higuruma would be in the office right at that moment, passing by her desk and taking a glimpse of his name on the screen.

 “I swear to God, if Higuruma doesn’t stop wearing that slutty red tie, I’m going to fuck him myself.”

 

He didn’t react; he was as stoic as ever, maybe because his brain literally short-circuited right then, right there, while he quickly walked back to his desk. What the fuck? He couldn’t believe what he read, he thought his eyes were failing him. No, he was sure. Your name was written as big as the sun, and it didn’t take much to gather that you and Mimiko were basically best friends, so a conversation like that wouldn’t be impossible. But still, what the fuck? He kept thinking about it, having a hard time focusing on his work for days.

Then you appeared, innocently dropping files on Mimiko’s desk and exchanging a few words that he couldn’t make out. He stared at you, and it was like everything around disappeared—no sound either, just a silhouette of a woman who was triggering very lewd thoughts inside him. He shook his head and looked away, still disturbed by the fact that one of his colleagues—you, of all people—would be attracted to him in such a way.

Higuruma didn’t really care about relationships; he was too busy and overworked when not busy, which made it complicated to even think about dating. However, this revelation made him feel like he had to make you his. Thoughts were raging in his brain about how he could bend you over his kitchen table and how he’d let you ride him in his car, on his bed, or in his office. Yeah, in his office, right on his desk, all clothed, putting his hand on your mouth so you’d keep silent. He’d pull up your skirt, he’d feel your panties, all wet, and-

 “This is the material for the new murder case.” You dropped the stack of files on his desk and tapped it frankly with your palm. He snapped out of his reverie, and his eyes widened at the view. It was like he had summoned you. He quickly gathered his thoughts and realised you were in his office.

“You couldn’t knock?” He asks dryly, putting his stoic persona back on.

“I knocked for a whole minute,” you said with a frown. “You seem... distracted.” He stared at you with an empty look, making you wonder what could go on in his head. He was actually thinking about how shameless you were, standing in his office, talking to him normally as if you weren’t fantasising about him with your colleague. It almost disgusted him—not in the way anyone would, no. He was rather disappointed that you’d only share your dirty thoughts with someone else instead of directly coming to him. While he was debating what could be the reason for your silence, his stare went down to your chest and to your unbuttoned shirt—just enough not to seem like a prude, but not enough to be deemed inappropriate. He counted the buttons: one, two, three, four. How long would it take for your tits to be revealed to him? What color was your bra? Was it lingerie?

“Hey! Did you hear me? I said Are you going to the team dinner tonight?” Your tone was harsh, and you felt a bit bothered by his inattentive attitude.

“What?” He shook his head and quickly nodded. “Yeah, yeah, I’m going.” He sighs.

 “Okay, cool.” You smiled politely, not really thinking much about his weird attitude, assuming he was probably tired, as per usual. You turned away and started walking toward the door. You could almost feel his insistent stare on your ass, your generous curves perfectly embraced by your skirt, enhanced by your mesmerizing stride as you made your way out of his office. You were almost done closing the door when he stopped you.

“Hey, wait. Come here.” You didn’t complain and got back inside his office, but it wasn’t without a hint of anxiety inside your stomach that you closed the door.

“Yeah?” You asked, your voice breathless, wondering what could possibly be the issue. You and him, alone in his office—yeah, you’ve thought about it. Besides, he was wearing a red tie. That damn red tie. He’s so hot. You leaned against the door, far from him behind his desk, feeling like miles separated you from him, but swearing you could feel his breath from there.

“Do you have nothing to say to me?” He asked with a mischievous grin on his lips, knowing perfectly well that you were going to freak out.

“Huh, no…” You frowned, confused. “What do you mean?” He chuckled softly and massaged his temples with his thumbs, grimacing as he thought about what to say.

“You can’t hide from me.” He looked like he was about to burst out laughing, which made him look particularly creepy, scaring you as seconds passed by.

“I don’t understand... Did I do something wrong?” You were starting to panic, completely unaware that he had been learning about your dirty secret. He stood up and started walking toward you. The look in his eyes was like a predator locking on his prey. You thought you were done for; whatever you did, it was probably terrible for you to be in this situation. But when he got close to you, your eyes widened, and it felt like they were going to go out of your body when Higuruma started brushing our hair away from your face.

“What... what are you doing?” You gasped, shocked at the sudden contact. His hand was as cold as a corpse, but your face was so warm that every touch stung on your skin.

“I read interesting things about you or about what you want to do.” His smile was full of mischief; he was enjoying the moment so much, seeing you completely oblivious to what was happening.

"What do I want to do?” You tilted your head to the side, escaping his touch and looking at him with a confused expression still. There was nothing that could ever make you think he knew at the time. You didn’t even think about those messages; how on earth would he even be aware of them?

“Yeah, you want to, fuck me?” He laughs a bit too loud, which made you flinch. “How would that work, though?” You were in shock. Your body froze, and absolutely no thoughts were left in your brain. What the fuck? You were betrayed by a whimper that left your mouth in a breathless voice, making Higuruma laugh even louder.

“What’s with the red tie, though? Is it your favorite color or something?” It doesn’t take long before your mind finally connects the dots, your face becoming as red as the tie.

“I’m… I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean that.” You muttered, your voice shaky in fear, embarrassment, and excitement. Why did he seem so happy about it?

“You didn’t mean that? And here I thought I was getting fucked today…” He burst out laughing while your face got even redder than before. He was enjoying the tease so much, while you were losing your mind over what was going on. “Should I just fuck you instead?” He added to the lack of response. He raised his eyebrows while waiting for an answer. You looked down, unable to look at him, but then your eyes darted towards the growing bulge in his crotch, and you felt like your legs would be giving up any second. He chuckled and put his index under your chin, pulling up your face to meet his gaze. He locked the door behind you and rapidly undid his tie, showing it to you in front of your face.

“What should I do with this? Hm?” You bit your lips and decided to let the lust take over, walking past him and bending over his desk, pushing away the files, and all the mess scattered around so you could fit your upper body on it. What are you doing? Your body moved by itself, putting your arms together behind you and looking back at him. You were ashamed, but at the same time, it’s like your biggest desire just became a reality, and you couldn’t help but let it play out.

“Oh wow, so this is how naughty you were? I was a fool to think you were a sweet and innocent girl.” He chuckled while walking to you, and then he almost instinctively tied your wrists together with his tie. The knot was loose enough not to hurt you but tight enough to keep you stuck in that vulnerable position. “Bad bad bad girl, and you’re going to get just what you wished for. Aren’t you lucky?” He bit his lower lip and slapped your ass so hard that your body jerked up over the desk. “Let’s make this quick. We’re both very busy people.”

The only noises coming out of you were soft moans and whimpers, shamelessly shaking with excitement. You couldn’t believe this was happening. Higuruma was already pulling up your skirt, feeling your wet underwear with his hand, from the front to the back in one rough movement. Soon enough, the black panties were at your ankles, revealing your most intimate parts. You hide your face in your hands, a wave of embarrassment crashing over you as you felt the air on your cunt. You weren’t shaved, which made you feel even more self-conscious. This wasn’t supposed to happen, and you couldn’t help but think that would turn him off.

He didn’t comment on it though; the silence filled the room as he kneeled down behind you and started licking off the wetness up your slit. He only let a few “fuck” and “shit” escape his lips between two licks while he generously sucked on your clit. You tried your best to muffle your moans in your hands, but he was just so good—so delicate yet so rough. It felt like time stopped, and every second was a blissful eternity. His hands started to move all around your body, leaving no place untouched. Your neck, your back, your waist, and your hips. His fingers were running up and down everything, and he wasn't shy about the dirty things he whispered in your ears either.

“You like that, huh? Was this how you imagined it? Your pussy spread out for me right here? When our friends are working hard in the next room? That’s not very professional, you know?” He chuckled. Your body was starting to heat up so much due to his touch; his breath was growing heavier with each kiss, moving to every bit of skin he could reach. He was playing around with your senses, making you want him to take you right then.

Eventually, he moved his hands back to your hips and pushed himself inside you. His entire body was pressed up against yours. You felt his every part against your own, and it was glorious. He was taking his time with it, enjoying the feeling of his cock inside you. He was playing it a little slow and steady, but he knew that the only way to continue was to speed up. Every thrust pinned you down to the desk harder and harder, your chest and stomach hurting from the pressure. He didn't care at all how rough he was getting or how much it might hurt you. All he cared about now was how good this felt. He was being relentless in his movements now, not stopping even for a moment to let you catch your breath. He pulled on the tie, holding your wrists for support, and fucked you even harder, trying to bring all his force inside you with every movement.

It was reaching an overwhelming point now, where both of you were just panting like animals in heat, switching off every rational thought and just letting your bodies speak for themselves. He felt his high coming and immediately pulled out, pumping out his cum over your ass and focusing on it like he was painting the most important piece of his life. You were left empty, denied an orgasm, as you felt his warm liquid on your skin. “Higuruma-senpai, why did you...” You couldn’t finish your sentence, breathless and astounded by the events.

“Shhhhh,” he said, putting his hand on your neck and pulling you up, his face near yours, and whispering in your ear, “Next time, baby.”

⊹ ࣪ ˖ ⊹ ࣪ ˖ ⊹ ࣪ ˖ ⊹ ࣪ ˖ ⊹ ࣪ ˖ ⊹ ࣪ ˖ ⊹ ࣪ ˖ ⊹ ࣪ ˖ ⊹ ⊹ ࣪ ˖ ⊹ ࣪ ˖ ⊹ ࣪ ˖ ⊹ ࣪ ˖ ⊹ ࣪ ˖ ⊹

I have to admit office sex is probably the best scenario with hiromi but it’s so hard to write something that’s creative and not boring. I honestly feel like this needs MORE so there’ll probably be a second (maybe a third part)

jjk masterlist

[kentosbento]

ᥫ᭡ 𝐬𝐨... 𝐲𝐨𝐮’𝐫𝐞 𝐬𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐥𝐞 𝐧𝐨𝐰?

— where satoru comforts you after breaking up with toji

gojo being lowkey yandere, fem reader, toji is the ex, mentions of baby trapping, reader is older, gojo calls her senpai (almost as a mock), classroom smut, fingering, gojo has to wear a condom and he hates it, he’s also a bit pathetic and in love, reader is a bit of bitch. 4k (this was supposed to be drabble idk what happened)

“i know what you’re thinking” gojo’s voice breaks the silence in the classroom where you were supposed to be grading papers but instead has been looking through the window for god knows how long now.

the sudden appearing happens after gojo catches your lost gaze on the field some of his students were training at. he saw your profile looking down at your desk, then after a few minutes you looked through the window until your eyes set on gojo’s protégée and the son of the man that broke your heart.

“but if you keep doing that megumi will get creeped out by you” gojo simply manifested in your classroom as soon as he realized you would stay in trance not even noticing your fellow teacher staring back at you from below.

“whatever, he never liked me anyways” you brush off, then remember what he said before, “and what the hell makes you think you know what i’m thinking?”

“ah, you forgot? i have an eye or six for this sorta thing” he points to his blindfold.

“you saying you can read minds now, you freak?” your relationship with satoru always had that dynamic. toji usually got very annoyed whenever he was in the same room as the two of you, he tried to pull you away or make an excuse for you two to go back to his place. deep down you knew he felt some type of way whenever you and satoru banter like that.

“please you’re so transparent i wonder how megumi haven’t seen it yet, i'm concerned that he might need glasses…”

“just say what you wanna say, satoru.”

gojo, on the other hand, didn’t need an instinct to see how jealous and possessive toji could be when he was around. all that gojo needed to say was one word to trigger the old man.

“every time you see megumi you think about him, don’t you?” he takes a step in your direction while you sink in your chair looking away, “senpai.”

gojo never showed respect for anyone, he was scolded several times by yaga because of it, utahime tried to hit him whenever she could, demanding formal treatment since she was his upperclassmen. but you, for whatever reason he decided, was the only one he used that honorific with.

“he’s his kid, of course i’ll—“

“ever since i heard about your breakup you’ve been acting like everything is fine, except for when you see megumi, then you frown,” gojo extends his index and taps the space between your eyebrows “and your cursed energy increases” he then sits on your desk looking down at you, “don’t tell me megumi had anything to do with why toji—“

“of course not” you stop him, although megumi was never fond of you, you know he’s a good kid and wouldn’t try to get in the way of your relationship with his father. as far as you know, he’s not particularly close to his old man either. actually, anything related to toji — bets, races, you — is automatically disregarded by him.

“then you gotta stop looking at him like he did something, or before you realize your energy towards him will become hostile and i can’t let that happen” gojo’s tone became more severe, it’s one of those rare times where he drops the playful persona in order to get serious. truthfully, megumi did nothing, but you can't unsee toji when you look at him, especially after seeing what your ex-boyfriend used to look like in the old days when he showed you some photos. it never occurred to you before, since you barely saw megumi anyways, you're not his sensei and in your free time you were with toji so there wasn't much time to get to know megumi since they don’t live together since the boy was five. you suppose gojo is right, pushing your hurt feelings away only makes them come out stronger when you see anything that reminds you of toji.

“that’s not gonna happen, i have my energy under control” you cross your arms, feeling exposed under gojo’s gaze even through the mask.

he stays quiet for a second, then his annoying tone is back.

“what did you even see in him anyways? he’s definitely not a good guy.”

“that’s rude, toji is—“

“did you think you could change him or something?”

“i— no, why—“

“from what megumi said he was cheap as fuck so it was definitely not the money” he rubs his chin.

“gojo, i swear—“

“was it the sex?”

you widen your eyes and close your mouth, not having a simple answer for that.

“jackpot” satoru whispers.

“fuck off, satoru” you raise from your seat but he raises too, blocking your way and trapping you against the black board and his body.

“you stayed with that guy for years just for the sex?” he has a mocking tone that makes your blood boil.

“no! and that’s none of your goddamn business.”

“and you’ve broken up, what? two months ago? you’ve been all this time without sex?” you raise your hand ready to slap his face or punch his nose but he sees your movements faster and catches your wrist, “don’t be like that senpai, your energy is getting hostile again” he takes all the time in the world lowering his blindfold and letting his hair fall down while staring at you with those freaking blue eyes, “although, on second thought i think that might be mmm… sexual frustration? it’s a color i never seen in you before” he grabs your wrist firmly.

“you don’t know what you’re saying.”

“oh but i do, senpai. i’m just wondering how you haven’t downloaded a dating app or tried to rub one off yet” gojo knows exactly which buttons to press to make you wanna stab him, or worst, make you wanna fuck him.

gojo gets closer to your face, so close you can smell his aftershave, and just the realization that it’s a different scent from the one you were so used to makes your heart ache and your clit throb.

“or did you?” he’s fast, gojo catches your phone on top of the table putting it right in front of your face to unlock then moving away from you to check it, “definitely no dating apps” you yell his name and try to snatch your phone back but he puts infinity on and you can’t reach him, “browser history?”

“satoru, you have no right, gimme that” your face is hot with shame.

“nothing either, well i suppose your camera roll…”

“no!”

“aha” he deactivates the invisible shield and right when you think you can retrieve your phone he turns you around, holding your arms behind your back and pressing your back against his chest, “is that what you use to get off?” he puts the phone in front of you, it’s opened in the gallery, more specifically in a part filled with lewd videos and photos.

“not bad, you could make some cash outta this” gojo puts his chin on your shoulder, playing a video which clearly was filmed by toji, his dick is getting in and out of you from behind, he gets a close look with the phone, his glistening dick shining under the flashlight while your pussy stretches to accommodate him. you press your legs together remembering the feeling, you’re not even struggling to get out of gojo’s hold by the time the video ends.

“you don’t need to get off by yourself, you know?” he smells your hair and kisses your ear, “it’s not like we haven’t done it before.”

“that was forever ago” you reply, at the time you thought satoru was going to use that against you, just wait for an opportunity to drop that bomb on toji’s lap and proudly say he fucked his girlfriend before, but whatever image you had of him back then was proved wrong since no one knows about your little escape with gojo till this very day.

“and wasn’t it good? huh?” he presses, sucking the spot on your neck that has you throwing your head back.

“yeah, it was” you confess, too sensible from the light touches to rethink your answers.

“see? i can make you feel good so you don’t become a little monster” he trails his hand on your thigh, pushing your skirt up until he finds your underwear, playing with the hem to tease you then pressing a finger on your clit.

“so charitable of you” you mumble sarcastically.

“i would gladly do this favor to you” he replies in the same tone, “even though you still own me.”

“for what?!” you close your legs around his hand turning your head around to look him in the face, not even considering a world where satoru did you any favors.

“for raising your boyfriend’s son? you really think you would’ve had a sex life with an eight year old summoning pets around the house?” he raises an eyebrow.

“don’t pretend like you did that out of the goodness in your heart, if megumi didn’t have the ten shadows you wouldn’t have bat an eye if toji sold him to the zenin’s or whomever.”

“you sound just like him” gojo’s eyes get darker, now he has your clit slowly rolling between his thumb and index over your underwear.

“besides— hng i came in the picture years after you took megumi… so don’t blame me” you wiggle your ass on his crotch.

“a ‘thank you my favourite kohai’ wouldn’t hurt” you sincerely laugh at that, never thinking of satoru as your underclassmen since that fucking minx is everyone’s exception on their cursed technique due to how powerful he is, so him being below you somehow was never a posibility, at least not strength wide.

satoru pushes your underwear to the side, rubbing the wetness all over your pussy and teasing your entrance.

“five years” you murmur as he inserts a finger then pulls it back to join his middle one too and go back in.

“hm?” satoru gets quieter, after talking so much and having so many things to say you’re surprised he stayed silent for a whole minute.

“last time you fucked me, it was five years ago” you get comfortable on his hold, his leg is between yours, serving as support for you to lean on while he scissors you.

“that long huh…” he sounds… sad? no, maybe nostalgic.

“crazy, right? so much has—“ you sigh when he curls his fingers, “changed.”

satoru take a long sniff of your hair, keeping a pleasing rhythm with his hand, it feels like giving someone a massage. he could go crazy and have you stripped out of your uniform a while ago, fucked you on your desk and left after marking your body and giving your ass a mean slap.

he could still do that, but whatever feeling bloomed in his chest has him enjoying this moment with you in his hold, stroking your insides and smelling your shampoo while discreetly rocking his hips on your behind for some relief.

he almost feels sleepy, the relaxed state has his mind going other places. he thinks of a world where he can tease you under your uniform every other day, you would tell him the school is no such a place for that then the day ends and you go home with him, holding hands, and finally when you arrive home he gets to finish what he started. then, he cooks whatever quick meal he can find the ingredients for since he knows you don't like to cook, afterwards you fall asleep on his lap on the couch as he strokes your hair, your belly is full, your heart is warm, you feel loved and he feels—

“toru~” he comes out of the trance he fell at when you call for him, he thinks for a second you were calling his name cause you felt he was off, but in reality you were calling him cause you are getting close, “right there” your breathy moans makes gojo smile and kiss your temple.

“where? here?” he pretends to not know, when the truth is he never actually forgot after your first time together, “right here, senpai?”

“y-yeah” you throw your head back, shutting your eyes to give in to the orgasm. gojo looks down at your pretty face, he feels the urge to kiss you right now, but he wants you to ask for it first. your walls clench around his fingers, he strokes that spot sweetly, like he's caressing a pet.

which is an ironic comparison since he’s the one that would gladly accept being your pet.

when you open your eyes gojo is staring at you silently through half lid eyes, it is truly a shame that he keeps those hidden for so long.

“desk, now” you demand needly.

“yes ma'am” gojo picks you up easily, moving the papers on top of the table to the floor.

you immediately go for his belt, choosing not to comment on the wet spot on his pants.

you feel a pressure on your chin as he guides your head up to look at him.

“ask me” he pleads.

“for what?”

“for a kiss” you smile, looking at his lips and how inviting they look. you ponder if you should tease him for it, since he's been teasing you with words a lot today, but then you chose to comply, despite going through your phone without our permission and claiming your frustration comes from lack of dick, he's actually being good to you.

“gimme a kiss” you raise your chin higher, he gazes at your lips and eyes, looking for something other than lust, yet he gives in, sealing your lips with his trying to keep his mind away from thinking of the man that had your lips previous to him. and how dumb that motherfucker is to let you go.

gojo's lips are soft, he starts gently which feels foreign to you, but it doesn't take long before his hand presses your lower back, pulling you closer until his cock hits your clothed cunt. the warmth he feels is enough to relish the passion in him, he kisses you harder, tongue intruding your mouth like he's trying to devour you.

the wet kiss also awakens your urge for him, you pull his cock from his underwear in the tiny space between his and your crotch, the second it's out it's already against your folds, the leaking tip hot against your skin.

“nuh-uh you better have a rubber” you push your knee onto gojo’s pelvis when he starts to rub himself on you to spread your wetness on his shaft.

“did you make toji wear one too?” he raises a questionable eyebrow at you, willing to bet all his heritage on the answer.

“he had to earn that privilege” you reach for gojo’s wallet, not failing to notice the black cards and considerable amount of cash, “i don’t know what you do after 6 so…” you take the packs, ripping it open yourself and rolling on him. with a face and body like his you doubt gojo spends most nights by himself.

“unbelievable…”

“satoru” you warn stroking him slowly, “can i get another kiss?” you bat your lashes. gojo comes closer, his nose even touches yours, then you feel his hands on your waist, turning you around till your elbows and chest are against the table and your skirt is being flipped over, underwear pushed down.

“you have to earn it, senpai” he spits the words against your ear as he pushes his dick into you. until a few moments ago, satoru was composed, happy to accept whatever crumbles you chose to give him. you managed to trigger him by saying toji still had something he couldn't have.

he's still gonna go through this — that's how whipped he is for you — though now he’ll be less gentle.

his cockhead hits your spot, nothing accidental of course, satoru knows your spots like the back of his hand. you whine and arch your back, satoru pouts realizing he won't get to suck some hickeys on the skin of your back and shoulder, not now at least, but the night is young.

“c'mon satoru, don't be like that” you look over your shoulder, licking your lips at the sight of him sweaty, flushed and frowny.

the sound of his name in your voice makes him want to cum on the spot, he dips his head on your neck sighing, not stopping thrusting your behind. he wanted to feel you so badly, why the fuck did you make him wear a condom? he's clean, of course he is, he's gojo satoru for heaven's sake! even viruses are afraid of him.

or was it something else you feared?

“hey… you on the pill?” he lifts his head slightly, his voice still muffled by the material of your dress.

“you’re not fucking me raw, satoru.”

“just wondering… you said you didnt wear a condom with him, so what kept you from getting knocked up?” he wiggles his hand between you and the surface of your table till hes palming your belly.

“you keep bringing toji up a lot, obsessed much?” you tease him, avoiding the answer, gojo pinches your clit.

“please, he wishes. now tell me. iud? implant? injections?” you push him away turning around then pulling him back.

“okay, you clearly had sex ed classes, now shut up and fuck me right” gojo takes your leg and places on his shoulder, you bite your fist to contain your moan, the new position makes easier for him to nudge your clit with his pelvis.

“i could be fucking you better, you know how?” he bites the skin of your leg, not harshly but enough to make you yelp, he smiles, giving a particular hard thrust that makes your eyes roll.

“condom stay on, satoru, i can’t risk getting preg—“ you slap your mouth. satoru stops.

“you’re not… on anything?”

“listen you can’t tell anyone about this, okay?” you cover your face, “i had a pregnancy scare a few years ago so… gosh why am i even telling you this…”

“go on” gojo massages your thigh.

“toji got a vasectomy. birth control wasn’t working for me anymore and it was only a matter of time before— well it doesn't matter. you can see why you have to use it right?” you place your elbows on the table, sitting up enough to see the look on his face, it’s not what your expected to see.

satoru looks like a child that just found out where his parents keep all the sweets. he’s grinning, dick throbbing.

“yeah, i see now” he bends, holding your neck and kissing you, he makes the kiss feel like a ‘thank you for trusting me’ but if this was a cartoon his shadow would have horns and a pointy tail.

all he can think now is exactly how to make you his, he can sweet talk you into allowing him to hit it raw, promising to pull it out, then… whoopsie.

the new discovery gives him a different kind of stamina.

“don’t worry, your secret is safe with me” he kisses your cheek after leaving you breathless.

he plunges in and out, a rhythm that has you seeing stars. gojo craves you so much, he’s quite bothered by all the clothes and the need to keep it down, otherwise he would have torn your dress apart and have you screaming by now.

“fuck— keep doing that” you run your nails on his undercut, gojo mewls and take your other leg, pushing it further to go deeper. he sees the white ring around his cock, getting high on the sigh of it combined with your pussy illuminated by the natural light coming from the window behind him.

he wonders if toji ever fucked you in a classroom like this, then he shakes his head, not allowing the image to form in his mind, instead he focus on you, and how your pretty face contorts as your orgasm approaches once again.

“so fucking pretty” he whispers quietly.

you attempt to lower your legs. feeling it’s gonna be too much.

“nuh-uh keep them here” he pushes back, “so tight” he closes his eyes.

you’re a moaning mess at this point, almost forgetting where you are.

“that’s right, let it go baby” your legs shake as your orgasm hits you, satoru can see the shape of your cursed energy peaking then getting softer.

he fucks you a little more, trying not to think about the condom trapping his dream of knocking you up.

god, you would look so fucking gorgeous carrying his baby, all round up for him to showcase around. he would do anything for you, you wouldn’t have to lift a finger.

if only…

“fuck“ he fucks his load — into the condom unfortunately.

after the initial high goes away he starts to hear his students asking where he went and why he’s taking so long, “wait here, i’ll take you home.”

“you don’t have to” you smile, poking his cheek.

“oh i do, i’m not done with you” he takes your hand from his nape and gives it a kiss before pulling out and throwing that despicable rubber into the bin, making a mental note to empty that bin outside where the evidence of what happened between two teachers is not so easily discoverable.

you sit up adjusting your dress and looking around, “did you see my…”

“nope” gojo leaves the classroom pushing the material of your panties further into his pocket.

gojo had the weekend of his dreams, he convinced you to stay in his place that night and the next one too, he rubbed your sore legs after you came so much you were spasming then made you breakfast, it almost made him believe of a happy ending for the two of you.

a dream that was shattered when, a few days later you returned from a mission and stood by the entrance of the school kissing… toji.

gojo watches the scene from above, a frown on his face.

“yeah i was surprised too” he almost forgot that megumi was with him, “thought she finally created some sense” he confesses.

gojo doesn’t say anything, he watches silently as you tiptoe to kiss toji, the fucker doesn’t even hold you right, he keeps his hand in his pockets and lets you with all the effort.

“meet you in the classroom in five” gojo disappears from megumi’s sight.

on your way to report your mission to yaga you see satoru leaning against a tree. you say his name in a surprised manner, not having prepared what to tell him beforehand.

“listen, i— hm… i thought you should know that toji and i are back, so—”

“did you tell him?” his arms are crossed.

“about… us? of course not.”

“why? don’t you think he should know?” you hear the challenge in his tone.

“no, and you’re not gonna say a word to him either” you step closer to him, trying to look intimidating which can be difficult due to the height difference, “may i remind you that between the three of us there’s a teen boy who would not appreciate the drama.”

“look at you, using fushiguro as an scapegoat” he smiles at the look of anger forming on your features, “it’s fine, i’m just a bit surprised at how quick you were to go back to him, that’s all.”

“let’s be real, satoru. it’s not like you were going to take me on a date or anything” gojo pulls you by your wrist, your body hits his, the sudden proximity has your eyes widening, anyone could see you and take the wrong conclusion. i mean, it wouldn’t be wrong but you didn’t want any conclusions to be taken for that matter.

“this is not going to be the last time and i don’t give a damn if you’re dating him or married or widowed.”

“satoru!” you shout his name in a whisper, immediately rejecting the idea of becoming a widow.

“you can tell toji or not, i don’t mind fighting him” he pushes himself out of the tree and past you. megumi is grown now, of course he still needs a lot of coaching regarding his skills, but emotionally speaking, he’s been a grown up since he was six.

before going to his classroom as promised, he teleports himself to yours, picking up the bouquet he left at your desk then teleporting to the fountain across the campus where he rips the paper that holds the flowers together and lets it all fall into the water.

satoru watches it for a moment, hurt but still decided to go through with his plan.

he wonders what would you tell toji if you got pregnant, maybe you could convince him the child is his, a miracle. then when the kid comes out with white hair and blue eyes you’ll have no choice other than be with him, the father of your child, the man who truly loves you. gojo satoru.

[kentosbento]

𝑺𝒄𝒓𝒆𝒂𝒎 𝑺𝒆𝒂𝒔𝒐𝒏 𝒊𝒔𝒏'𝒕 𝒄𝒐𝒎𝒑𝒍𝒆𝒕𝒆 𝒘𝒊𝒕𝒉𝒐𝒖𝒕 𝑻𝒓𝒊𝒄𝒌 𝒐𝒓 𝑻𝒓𝒆𝒂𝒕, 𝒏𝒐𝒘 𝒊𝒔 𝒊𝒕? 𝑱𝒐𝒊𝒏 𝒎𝒆 𝒇𝒐𝒓 𝒂 𝒔𝒆𝒓𝒊𝒆𝒔 𝒐𝒇 𝒔𝒊𝒍𝒍𝒚 𝒏' 𝒔𝒄𝒂𝒓𝒚 𝑭𝒊𝒄𝒔 𝑻𝒓𝒊𝒄𝒌𝒔 𝒔𝒖𝒓𝒆 𝒕𝒐 𝒍𝒆𝒂𝒗𝒆 𝒚𝒐𝒖𝒓 𝒕𝒐𝒆𝒔 𝒄𝒖𝒓𝒍𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝒕𝒉𝒊𝒓𝒔𝒕𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒇𝒐𝒓 𝒎𝒐𝒓𝒆!

𝑻𝒓𝒊𝒄𝒌𝒔 𝒅𝒓𝒐𝒑𝒑𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒆𝒗𝒆𝒓𝒚 𝑻𝒖𝒆𝒔𝒅𝒂𝒚!

𝐏𝐑𝐎𝐂𝐄𝐄𝐃 𝐖𝐈𝐓𝐇 𝐂𝐀𝐔𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍… 𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐂𝐎𝐍𝐃𝐎𝐌𝐒! 𝑶𝒓 𝒏𝒐𝒕, 𝒘𝒆 𝒘𝒐𝒏'𝒕 𝒋𝒖𝒅𝒈𝒆.

𝐖𝐞𝐞𝐤 𝟏 : 𝐂𝐚𝐦𝐞𝐫𝐚 𝐒𝐡𝐲 | 𝐒𝐚𝐧𝐣𝐢 𝐱 𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫 ╰┈➤ 𝐒𝐡𝐢𝐭𝐭𝐲 𝐒𝐲𝐧𝐨𝐩𝐬𝐢𝐬: 𝐘𝐨𝐮 𝐬𝐮𝐬𝐩𝐞𝐜𝐭 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐧𝐞𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐛𝐨𝐫 𝐩𝐡𝐨𝐭𝐨𝐠𝐫𝐚𝐩𝐡𝐬 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐢𝐧 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐞𝐥𝐞𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭 — 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐦𝐨𝐬𝐭 𝐯𝐮𝐥𝐧𝐞𝐫𝐚𝐛𝐥𝐞 𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐭𝐞 — 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐟𝐢𝐧𝐝 𝐢𝐭… 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐠?

𝐖𝐞𝐞𝐤 𝟐 : 𝐌𝐞 𝐀𝐧𝐝 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐃𝐞𝐯𝐢𝐥 | 𝐙𝐨𝐫𝐨 𝐱 𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫 ╰┈➤ 𝐒𝐡𝐢𝐭𝐭𝐲 𝐒𝐲𝐧𝐨𝐩𝐬𝐢𝐬: 𝐄𝐯𝐞𝐫 𝐮𝐧𝐤𝐧𝐨𝐰𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐥𝐲 𝐦𝐚𝐝𝐞 𝐚 𝐝𝐞𝐚𝐥 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐚 𝐝𝐞𝐯𝐢𝐥? 𝐏𝐞𝐫𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐬 𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐰𝐡𝐨 𝐜𝐚𝐧’𝐭 𝐟𝐢𝐧𝐝 𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐰𝐚𝐲 𝐛𝐚𝐜𝐤 𝐭𝐨 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐮𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐥𝐝?

𝐖𝐞𝐞𝐤 𝟑 : 𝐑𝐞𝐯𝐨𝐥𝐮𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐚𝐫𝐲 𝐇𝐨𝐨𝐤𝐞𝐫 | 𝐒𝐚𝐛𝐨 𝐱 𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫 ╰┈➤ 𝐒𝐡𝐢𝐭𝐭𝐲 𝐒𝐲𝐧𝐨𝐩𝐬𝐢𝐬: 𝐈𝐭 𝐰𝐚𝐬 𝐚 𝐬𝐢𝐦𝐩𝐥𝐞 𝐞𝐧𝐨𝐮𝐠𝐡 𝐣𝐨𝐛, 𝐬𝐞𝐝𝐮𝐜𝐞 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐤𝐢𝐥𝐥 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐬𝐞𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐝 𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐦𝐚𝐧 𝐨𝐟 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐫𝐞𝐯𝐨𝐥𝐮𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐚𝐫𝐲 𝐚𝐫𝐦𝐲. 𝐒𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝’𝐯𝐞 𝐤𝐧𝐨𝐰𝐧 𝐡𝐞’𝐬 𝐧𝐨 𝐞𝐚𝐬𝐲 𝐟𝐞𝐚𝐭.

𝐖𝐞𝐞𝐤 𝟒 : 𝐇𝐨𝐭𝐫𝐢𝐝𝐞 𝐇𝐨𝐫𝐫𝐨𝐫 𝐒𝐭𝐨𝐫𝐲 | 𝐒𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐤𝐬 𝐱 𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫 ╰┈➤ 𝐒𝐡𝐢𝐭𝐭𝐲 𝐒𝐲𝐧𝐨𝐩𝐬𝐢𝐬: 𝐘𝐨𝐮 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐫 𝐠𝐞𝐭 𝐡𝐨𝐫𝐧𝐲 𝐨𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐝𝐫𝐢𝐯𝐞 𝐛𝐚𝐜𝐤 𝐟𝐫𝐨𝐦 𝐚 𝐜𝐨𝐬𝐭𝐮𝐦𝐞 𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐲. 𝐒𝐡𝐚𝐦𝐞𝐥𝐞𝐬𝐬 𝐜𝐚𝐫 𝐬𝐞𝐱 𝐢𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐦𝐢𝐝𝐝𝐥𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐭 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐬𝐨𝐦𝐞 𝐚𝐝𝐝𝐞𝐝… 𝐜𝐥𝐨𝐰𝐧 𝐯𝐨𝐲𝐞𝐮𝐫𝐬?

[kentosbento]

girlfriend (zoro x reader nsfw)

part of my 1600 follower event!

prompt is: show him what you do to me/late at night when the wind is free/we're gonna have to tell him/you'll only be a girlfriend/of mine

18+, mdni, nsfw, wc: 2.6k masterlist || commissions (info)

cw: afab!reader, jealousy, established relationship, law is lowkey a freak, unrequited law x reader, voyeurism, jerking off, eavesdropping, unknowing exhibitionism, dirty talk, law considering using his devil fruit for (actually) nefarious purposes

tagging: @eelnoise @ragethebunny @sanjisprincesswifey @willowhaze26 @kaizokuniichan

Lazy clouds roll overhead, making for an easy and uneventful day at sea.  The soft rock of the ship is soothing, and the ocean mist turns you ticklish as it sprinkles across your face and into your hair.  It was sublimely serene and peaceful—until your crewmates decide to make you the target of their mischief for the afternoon.

“Sanji wants to know what your boyfriend wants for lunch.” Nami asks as she approaches you next to the railing, a wicked grin on her face as Usopp tries his best to suppress a fit of giggles.

Brows knit together as you look at her, perplexed.  “Why?  He knows Zoro will eat just about anything besides chocolate.” you reply, still unsure as to why Sanji was bothering to ask considering he usually made his menus without even thinking to consider Zoro’s opinion, stating that the mosshead is too crude to have a fully developed sense of taste.

“No, not Zoro, your other boyfriend!” she teases, causing you to let out a frustrated sigh and roll your eyes as Usopp cackles.  Trafalgar Law had made himself quite comfortable around you during his temporary stay on the Sunny; it had started with an interest in a coin he was absentmindedly flicking into the air—you used to grade and collect them, after all—and it had devolved into him sticking close to your side, grumbling under his breath that you were the only person on the crew he could tolerate.

“Why am I the Law expert?” you hiss, frustrated and trying to keep your voice down.  Truthfully, at a different, more naïve time in your life, Law’s strange charm and roundabout way of indirectly flirting with you through mumbled half-compliments would have had your wrapped around his finger, but not now; not when you had a support system of people to give you whole, unrestricted, free-flowing love.  Not when you were in an idyllic partnership built on respect and growth.  There was no room in your heart for Law and his cryptic platitudes beyond friendship—not when you were in love with Zoro.

“Because he sits and talks to you with that dopey look in his eyes as if he’s never seen a pretty girl before in his life!  He’s so obvious it’s painful!”  Usopp exclaims, causing you to sigh.  Law considered himself smooth and sneaky, but the way he showed you preferential treatment was beyond glaringly obvious, and considering that nearly everyone else had picked up on it, it was only a matter of time before it spilled over into something that you weren’t quite prepared to deal with yet.

“Which is why I’ve been trying to ignore it.” you say through gritted teeth.  Worry rushes through your veins as you consider the last week or so, replaying each interaction with him in his head to try to decipher if you had been encouraging his budding affections in any way.  Unsatisfied with the vagueness of your conclusion, you reach for external validation. “I’m not doing anything to give him the wrong idea, am I?” you ask them, nervously digging your nails into your forearms.

“You’re just being friendly.” Nami says, reassuring you with a squeeze to your shoulder. “It’s just hilarious to watch him follow you around like a lost puppy.”  You’d liken him more to a miserable wet cat than a puppy, sulking in corners and stealing you away to demand attention when it suited him, craving affection from you, but only on his own terms.  It was a bid for control that was foreign to you and left a bitter distaste in your mouth, especially when you were accustomed to the mutual trust that you and Zoro shared.

“And a bit pathetic.” Usopp adds with a crooked grin.

“You’re one to talk about being pathetic.” Nami chimes in, unable to resist getting in a playful dig at her friend’s expense.

“Hey!” he exclaims, launching the two into a fit of unserious bickering as the sound of heavy boots against the deck approach them.

“Is that moron done with lunch yet?” Zoro asks with a huff, sweaty, fatigued, and irritated after a rough workout.

“Almost!  Or at least he better be—I’m starving too.” you tell him with a smile; the look on your face visibly softens his frustration slightly, turning his anger into a gentle rumble.

“Idiot can’t even stick to a regular schedule.” he growls, leaning against the railing next to you.  As Nami and Usopp remain engrossed in their sidebar conversation, you take the opportunity to softly ask him how his training went, and eagerly drink up each detail.  In return, he wants you to relay him the details of your morning, and you do, with a dreamy smile of your face—a lovestruck look that’s not lost on your fellow crewmates.

“Look at that look in her eyes, it’s probably crushing his poor heart!” Nami whispers to Usopp, gesturing towards Law across the deck, who was slowly strolling towards the kitchen.

“The pain of unrequited love!” Usopp whispers back, tears nearly streaming down his face from both uncontrollable laughter and empathy for the Surgeon of Death’s plight.

“What the hell are you two talking about?” Zoro barks out as he snaps his head towards them.  They both point towards the doorway to the kitchen, where Law’s hat disappears into the room. “Don’t you two have anything better to do?” he asks with a sigh.

“Nope!” Nami chirps, informing him that their course was securely set, and that the schadenfreude she and Usopp derived from watching Law fight a battle he was doomed to lose from the start was the most fun they’ve had in weeks.  Zoro scoffs, appearing indifferent as he rolls his eyes and makes his way towards the kitchen, but the tight grip he keeps around your waist betrays his annoyance and uneasiness as Nami’s words rattle around his head; both of you had considered the way the surgeon clung to you a bit odd, but hearing that other people had noticed it too had made the situation tangible, and suddenly makes Law’s presence next to you at the table unbearable—there was something unsettling about the fact that he would rather see the cook on his knees in front of you, pathetically begging for just one chance, than to have Law at the same table as  you, let alone sitting beside you.

“Something bugging you, mosshead?” Sanji quips with a knowing smirk upon seeing Zoro’s arm wrapped around you.  Frustrated, the swordsman doesn’t dignify him with a response; not in the talking mood, he removes his arm from around your torso in order to shovel food into his mouth and prevent any attempts at small talk.  You’re engrossed in your own food, slurping up the wedding soup that Sanji had prepared for your lunch, ignoring the burns the hot broth leaves on the roof of your mouth.  It was still far too hot for a reasonable person to eat, but as was often the case with Sanji’s cooking it was too good not to.

“Mmm…” you hum contently; the rest of the crew is used to your penchant to moan in delight when stuffing your face with a particularly good meal, but Law is unable to hide the way he stiffens like a board beside you as the sound that escapes your lips rings in his ears.  “Sanji, this is delicious!” you say innocently, with glimmering enthusiasm, causing the cook’s lips to curl up into an appreciative smile and teasingly telling you it would taste even better if you had the patience to wait a while before digging in. 

A few moments pass uneventfully as you scarf down the bread that accompanied your soup, until a sudden sensation running across your outer thigh causes you to nearly leap out of your own skin; peering under the table, the culprit is Law’s leg, pressed against your own.  He’s a tall man, so the need for leg room would be a reasonable excuse, and scrutinizing his face reveals no outward trace of unscrupulous intentions; yet, at the same time he’s so transparent, unable to help himself from bouncing his knee alongside yours, as if desperate for the slightest bit of friction.  The smallest of sighs escapes his lips as you lean away from the touch, confirming your suspicions; the realization makes you echo the sound, frustrated and disappointed that he was unable to be content with the friendship you were willing to offer and was instead so insistent on meddling in a place where he didn’t belong.

His behavior was starting to eat away at your last nerve, and evidently, Zoro shared your sentiment, becoming more possessive than usual when he makes love to you that night.

“Bet he jerks his pathetic cock to the thought of switching places with me…hah…but he doesn’t have the balls to do it.” Zoro whispers, panting into your ear as he snakes an arm underneath you to pull your waist closer; craving to feel your hot skin melt into his, he needs you trapped and caged between his arms, mewling and whimpering out a soft, pretty song as he pounds you into the floor.  “He knows you need something bigger, don’t ya’, pretty girl?” he growls in your ear; it’s gravelly, possessive, and makes you flutter softly around him as you whine out an “Mhm… you feel s’good…” in response.

Lost and drowning in a haze of ecstasy, neither of you notice the soft blue light enveloping the room, nor the muffled, strangled gasps coming from outside the door as Law drags his hand down his cock, imagining burying himself inside you instead.  For a brief moment, he does consider switching places with you, picturing the way your eyes would be blown wide with shock—shock that he’d fuck out of you until you’re drooling out the corner of your mouth and whimpering his name like a prayer.  But as much as he desires it, burning up for you so much that he barely knows what to do with himself, he knows he can’t—it’s too twisted and dark; however, he can’t bring himself to dispel the room that he’s cast.  He bargains with himself to come up with a justification to flick his wrist and take you that wouldn’t make him a monster—that wouldn’t turn you away from him entirely; it’s beyond tempting to give into his urges when one simple movement is all that separates him from the warmth of your core swallowing his cock whole.  Choking back a groan as he fists himself, he wonders if, even for the briefest of moments, the mention of him made your mind go dark, fantasizing about having his cock deep inside of you.  He wonders if he could get away with just a taste, switching places for just a fraction of a second—neither of you would notice a thing, and he would finally get his fix, and the opportunity to tremble at the tight, wet grip of your walls around him.

But he knows a moment wouldn’t be enough for him—not even close.  He knows his length would be able to reach depths of you that Zoro never could, and he wouldn’t be able to resist the urge to break you in, scramble your mind, and leave you unable to be dripping and wanting for anyone else but him.  His wrist is twitching, wavering in tandem with his resolve; he’s moments away from tipping over the edge, the word shambles at the tip of his tongue, until a soft whining of Zoro’s name vibrates through the door, the word dripping with neediness and devotion.  The sound leaves the bitter taste of bile at the back of Law’s tongue and his room falls apart, a crushing reminder that he’s alone, in a dark hallway that leads to the aquarium bar, jerking himself off in the middle of the night while Zoro gets to indulge in the comfort of your flesh.

Zoro’s name is hot on your tongue as he delivers you to burning red ecstasy, his calloused fingers rubbing circles into your aching bud as he ruts into you.  “Need you, only need you, Zoro…” you murmur as blood rushes to your face, pooling in your cheeks as you pulse around him, mind shattered and vulnerable, only for him.  The flutter of your walls makes him pull you even closer, sinking his teeth into your neck as you bury your face into the throw pillow on the ground in front of you and whimper.

“So good for me—you take it so good for me.” he mumbles; the sight of you falling apart underneath him lights a fire in soul that makes him give it to you harder—Law can hear the smack of his hips against yours through the door as he smears buds of precum across the tip of his cock with his palm.  Limp and pliant as tingles of electricity continue to dance through your skin, you’re his, to have and to hold as he sees fit.

He knows your body like the rough, weathered palms of his hand, and in turn you know his; the intoxicating way he ruts into you, filling you until you can’t think straight, along with the tremble in his thighs lets you know he’s close.  He holds you tight, the flesh of your back melting into his broad chest as he cums deep inside you, as if you’ll vaporize into thin air if he lets you go.  The simple sensation of him wrapped around you is enough to get drunk on, and you silently wish you could stretch this moment out for an eternity.

“I love you.” you murmur to him as he crashes from his high, slowly regaining control of his breathing.

It’s soft and hushed, a raw rasp in your voice as your words blanket the room in an intimate sweetness, the kind that pulls on heartstrings so harshly that the rest of the world slips away.  As Zoro echoes your sentiment, whispering a love you too in your ear and burying his head into the crook of your neck to savor the moment, Law selfishly twists your words in his mind, filling in the gaps and imagining them whispered to him instead.

“I love you, Law.”

Though it’s a mangled, manufactured creation of his own mind, he doesn’t care; just the concept of the words rolling off your tongue as you cry out for him is enough to make him spill his seed all over his jeans as he violently fucks his hand.

“I love you, Law...”

The words tumble in his head, bouncing off the walls of his skull as he comes down from his high, tormenting him.  He needs them to be real, to hear them spoken to him in hushed tones in quiet places hidden away from the world; he needs you to want him, to yearn for him, to crave him, to love him.

But you don’t.

You love Zoro.

At breakfast the next morning, Law stretches his legs underneath the table, lightly grazing his thigh against yours in the process; it’s intentional as it always is, the guilt and shame of his voyeurism doing nothing to dampen his futile attempts to sway you.

You jerk away from his touch, tilting your legs to your left, towards Zoro.  So close, but so far, it’s infuriating enough to make him clench his jaw so hard he nearly breaks a tooth.

When you’re still hungry after finishing your plate, he quietly offers you the remnants left on his plate—he can barely stomach food at the moment anyways, not when he’s plagued with visions of you splayed out and spread open underneath another man.

Though he knows he can’t have you, Law can’t help but continue to give you his scraps.

[kentosbento]

૮(ˊ ᵔ ˋ)ა ₊˚✧JUJUTSU KAISEN LINKS PT.2 !!

MDNI !! | CW: Anal, degradation, doggy, riding, titty sucking, thigh job, pussy spanking, spanking, fingering, masturbation, blowjob, pussy eating, double dildo, cheating?

A/N : I'm so so grateful for the love in my first post! Thank you all so much, tell me if you'd like a part 3, and tell me what characters should i put, and what other fandoms should i do! ♡

Pt.1 | Pt.3

₊˚✧ Megumi Fushiguro !!

Megumi playing with ur kitty.

Megumi eating you and fingering you.

Giving him a deep throat.

Getting spanked by step brother Megumi.

Teasing Megumi.

Riding Megumi.

Megumi swears his hand slipped.

Taking you from behind his is dream.

Megumi with you after a long day of having to deal with Satoru, Yuji, and Nobara.

₊˚✧ Nanami Kento !!

Nanami is tired of your bratty demeanor, so he gives you what you want, but meanly.

When Nanami comes home and you're asleep, he can't resist your little sleepy face.

Nanami making you hump his feet for being a brat all day.

Fucking you nice and firm.

Taking you like this is therapeutic for him.

Fingering you while he drives.

Filled up by Nanami.

₊˚✧ Yuji Itadori !!

A thigh job should be enough for Yuji.

Yuji after he found out you cheated w Sukuna.

He loves your ass more than anything.

Yuji taking you with so much love and devotion.

Before going to sleep, you like to tease Yuji a bit.

Yuji at your house a week later after saying he was done with you.

Perv!Yuji finally fucking your pretty pussy.

Yuji using his strenght so you don't do anything.

₊˚✧ Shiu Kong !!

Shiu taking you so lovingly because you've been such a good girl for him.

Shiu folding you after a long day of shopping.

He loves roleplaying with you.

Shiu teasing your two holes.

Shiu giving you proper discipline.

Being needy, but Shiu can't leave the fucking cigarrette.

Sucking Shiu off after he comes home stressed from work.

Shiu taking you doggy style, loving how your back arches.

He loves the view of your tits when you ride him.

Breeding you nice and full of his seed.

₊˚✧ Higuruma Hiromi !!

He loves it wet and messy.

Higuruma craves this view when you ride him.

Taking you on a vacation, so when you fuck, you can't keep your eyes off the landscape.

Higuruma is secretly a loser who loves thighs.

Higuruma fucking you carefully in his office, he doesn't want anyone finding out he fuck his assistant.

Higuruma needs his stress reliever after a rough case.

Higuruma letting you suck him like a baby.

He tries to be rough, but he loves you so much he can't imagine of hurting your little body.

Higuruma didn't want to be mean, but you deserve it after being a whore all day with his co-workers.

Higuruma fucking you from behind.

₊˚✧ Maki Zen'in !!

Maki making you feel so good.

Kissing session w Maki.

This is the only way Maki can put some sense into you.

Maki taming your bratty ass.

[kentosbento]

rip my ribcage open (devour what’s truly yours)

zoro x f!reader

word count: 2.1k

warnings: tummy-pusher zoro, squirting, oral (f!receiving), overstimulation, prone bone, chokehold, slight breath play, creampie, violent imagery, religious imagery, bit of aftercare.

zoro thinks you might be trying to say his name.

he’s knelt between your legs, sitting back on his haunches and rocking his hips just enough to fuck you with the fat tip of his cock. there’s a rhythm to the unsteady rise and fall of your chest. short inhale, long exhale, the same way you always sigh his name when he’s reduced you to this.

tears dotting your lashes, drool seeping from the corner of your mouth, hips bucking mindlessly trying to get him to slip in deeper.

fuck, you’re hungry for it.

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