sincerelyhunnybee - Tumblr blog

sincerelyhunnybee · 7 days ago

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unchained | dark romance w. dabi

chapter 5

wc: 2.8k

cw: captivity/abduction, psychological distress, power imbalance, sensory discomfort, dubious morality, graphic violence, feels like a shitty action film but bare with me this is the climax

ೀfrom bee: i apologize for the late chapter post, as i said in an earlier post i was suuuuper busy this past weekend with my family! also this one is a bit shorter too, but worry not the next one is looking to be a long one 🙂‍↕️ enjoy this chpater as there is a huge turn of events :] support on ao3!

You don’t know how long you lay there after he leaves.

The mattress too warm now, but you can’t bring yourself to get up. You keep your hand close to where his pinky brushed yours—almost like proof that it happened at all. But every time your fingers twitch, you remind yourself:

It doesn’t mean anything.It can’t.

But even now, the memory thrums under your skin like a second pulse.

He sat on the floor. He stayed. He watched the door like he was guarding something. Guarding you.And that terrifies you more than Mr. Compress’s words or Toga’s taunting ever did.

He watches the feed longer than he should, eye growing dry.

The chair groans beneath him as he leans back, elbows on his knees, cigarette burning down between two fingers he barely feels anymore. The smoke’s gone cold, but he hasn’t noticed.

Your body is still in the same spot that he left you in, a blank expression doesn’t leave your face. Not asleep. He can tell. Your shoulder shifts too often, breath a little too shallow.

Tense. Waiting.

He hates how easy it is to read you now.

He should stop watching.

But after Compress’s visit, after Toga’s smile, after Twice’s not-so-innocent comments—he knows better.

They’re circling.

You aren’t leverage anymore. You’re bait. And worse—you’ve started to become something else entirely.

He exhales slow and hard, rubbing the heel of his palm against his temple. He should’ve burned this problem out the second it started feeling like one.

And now, every time he tries to pull back, the thought creeps in—if I leave them alone, they’ll pick them apart.

And for reasons he still won’t say out loud, that’s not something he’s willing to let happen.

His burner phone buzzes once. A message from Spinner.

Boss says op moved up. Relocation within 48 hours. Get ready.

Dabi’s mouth goes dry.

Shit.

He crushes the cigarette into the tray and stands too fast. The chair tips, but he catches it, knuckles white against the metal. His heartbeat’s louder than it should be.

You’re not safe here anymore. But moving you? Things are going to get very complicated, very quickly. Because if you leave this room—you’re in their hands. Then is when you might just break.

You hear it again—boots outside your door. Not the hesitant shuffle of Twice, not Toga’s playful grace. This is heavier. Controlled.

You sit up fast.

When the handle turns, you brace—but it’s Dabi.

And this time, he looks . . . frayed.

Hair mussed. Eyes bloodshot, shirt more disheveled. Breath a little too sharp when he exhales.

Your heart kicks. “What is it?”

He steps inside, shuts the door, turns the lock with a soft click. That’s new.

He doesn’t speak right away. Just paces once—twice—before leaning back against the far wall, arms folded.

“They’re moving us soon,” he says. Flat. No ceremony.

Your throat tightens. “What does that mean?”

“It means this—” he gestures to the room, to the space between you—“doesn’t last.”

You swallow hard. “And me?”

His gaze flickers. That’s the part he won’t say.

You rise slowly, “Tell me.”

For a second, the mask slips—just enough.

“You don’t want me to,” he says softly.

But you do.

Because if this is the end of whatever strange, fragile thing has been building between you, you need to understand it before it’s ripped away.

“I need to know,” you whisper.

Dabi’s fists tighten. “They’ll move you with the rest. Somewhere less controlled.”

“Less controlled,” you echo. “Meaning worse.”

He doesn’t deny it.

You take a shaky breath. “And you?”

His jaw works. “I’ll go where they tell me.”

“And if they tell you to let them—” You can’t finish it.

And the ice in his voice is gone.

“I won’t.”

Two words. Simple. Soft.

But it’s the first promise he’s made since this started.

And it terrifies you more than the silence ever did.

The words I won’t still hang in the air between you. A promise. A weight. You aren’t sure which.

Dabi hasn’t moved from the wall. You haven’t dared sit down. The room feels too fragile for that now—as if shifting your position will tip the whole balance off its edge.

But then—sharp. Fast. Three quick knocks on the door.

Dabi tenses instantly. Gone is the tired slump. His head snaps up, jaw set, eyes colder than you’ve seen them in days.

“Stay there,” he mutters.

He unlocks the door fast, opens it just wide enough for a lean, tense figure to wedge in—Spinner. His hoodie’s half-unzipped, blades strapped to his back. Breath short.

He looks at Dabi, then—narrowly—at you.

“You need to move,” Spinner says, voice low but urgent. “Now.”

“What the fuck happened?” Dabi asks flatly.

“Patrols. Intel’s bad. Heroes know we’re in the sector already. Shigaraki’s giving the order—burn everything. No traces. Compress and Toga are already pulling records. If you’ve got anything here, clean it.”

Dabi’s jaw tightens. His glance flickers toward you. You feel it.

Spinner notices.

He lowers his voice even more. “You want them alive? You move fast. You want them dead—stay here.”

Dabi exhales through his nose. A dangerous sound. “I told you—”

“This isn’t about what you told me,” Spinner cuts in. “This is about what happens when they bust through that door tomorrow.”

You see the shift in Dabi then—sharp, immediate calculation behind his eyes. Not panic. Strategy. Because he knows Spinner isn’t bluffing.

“We’re burning everything,” Spinner says. “Every piece of it.”

He’s already turning away. “You’ve got maybe an hour. Less if we’re unlucky.”

And then—gone.

You’re on your feet before Dabi can stop you.

“What does that mean?” you ask, heart pounding. “What’s left to burn?”

He runs a hand through his hair—frustrated, fast.

“Everything,” he mutters. “Camera feeds. Personal items. Anything that says you existed here.”

He’s already moving—crossing to a metal box in the corner. Wires. Drives. You didn’t even know it was there.

“I—” You hesitate. “And me?”

He looks at you then, expression bare.

“You,” he says roughly, “are the one thing I can’t burn.”

The words hit you harder than you expect.

Before you can respond, Dabi’s already moving—sharp, quick, all lazy disinterest gone. He crosses to the panel in the wall, fingers flying over old wires and switches. You see a small drive, half-burned already, pulled free and tossed onto the floor.

“What can I do?” you ask, breath catching.

He pauses just long enough to meet your eyes. For a second, something flickers there—fear, maybe. For you, not for him.

“Grab the book. Really anything you’ve touched more than once.” He’s already dismantling the feed system, yanking cords free. “And move fast.”

Your fingers shake as you scoop up the battered copy of Monte Cristo, the thin towel. It feels absurd—like none of it matters. But you do it anyway. You can feel the clock ticking under your skin.

He hauls the mattress off the floor and throws it against the wall with one brutal shove.

“Clothes,” he says, voice tighter now. “The ones you came in with. Where are they?”

“They… they took them,” you manage. “First day.”

He curses under his breath.

When you glance back at him, you see his hands are trembling now—not with fear, but with fury.

“They’ll use anything,” he mutters. “Scent. DNA. Threads. Fucking anything.”

You freeze. The words land sharp.

“Dabi…” Your voice is thin. “What happens if they find me?”

His hands still over the wires. He looks at you then—really looks. And for the first time since you’ve met him, you see it fully—he doesn’t have a plan for this. Not anymore.

“Then I failed,” he says softly.

And it shatters something in your chest.

Because it’s not bravado. It’s not cold. It’s not calculated.

It’s raw.

You cross the room before you think better of it. Hands still full, towel half-dragging, you stop just short of him.

“You haven’t failed yet,” you whisper.

His breath catches. You see it. You hear it.

Slowly—slowly—his hand lifts. Hesitates. Then curls gently around your wrist, grounding himself for half a heartbeat.

“You should hate me,” he murmurs.

“I did.” You swallow hard. “I’m not sure I can anymore.”

The words hang there—fragile and burning.

Then he lets go, eyes snapping sharp again.

“We’re out of time.” His voice is hoarse. “When I tell you to run—you run.”

You nod once, fiercely.

“Stay close to me. Don’t trust anyone else. Not even for a second.”

“Not even Spinner?”

His mouth twists. “Especially not Spinner.”

Then—without another word—he shoves the last of the feed into a bag, shoulders it roughly, grabs your arm—not too tight, but firm.

“Ready?” he asks.

“No,” you breathe. “But let’s go.”

And as the door cracks open—heat rising, alarms echoing faintly down the halls—you step out beside him.

For the first time, not as a prisoner.

As someone he’s chosen to protect.

The second Dabi pulls the door open, heat and noise slam into you like a fist.

Somewhere down the hall, something explodes—an ugly BOOM that shakes the floor beneath your feet. The light overhead flickers madly, throwing the hallway into sharp stutters of dark and sickly white.

“Keep the fuck up,” Dabi snarls. His grip tightens on your wrist—not enough to hurt, but enough to remind you: this is life or death now.

You run.

Boots hammer concrete. Sirens wail faintly in the distance—someone’s triggered the emergency failsafes. The stink of smoke is thick in the air, acid and bitter.

You barely round the first corner before Twice barrels past with a half-filled sack of drives and scraps. His mask is half-off, face twisted in a grimace. He skids to a stop when he sees you.

“Shit—Dabi! They’re in Sector Three already—heroes or cops, who knows. We got maybe five minutes—”

His eyes flick to you. He hesitates.

“You sure about this?” Twice asks.

Dabi’s voice is pure ice. “Move.”

Twice swallows, then bolts past without another word.

Dabi hauls you forward again. Your lungs are already burning. You try to keep pace, heart racing so loud you can barely hear.

The first body appears at the next intersection.

League grunt. You recognize the blue-and-white armband of one of Shigaraki’s lower men—slumped against the wall, throat torn open, blood pooling slick beneath him.

You freeze.

Dabi doesn’t.

“Eyes forward,” he says harshly. “You stop, we die.”

You force yourself to move. The image burns behind your eyes.

Another blast shakes the ground ahead. You round a sharp corner—and there’s Toga, covered in blood, knife dripping.

She grins wide when she sees you.

“You’re running?” she sing-songs, voice wild with the rush of violence. “That’s not very nice—”

Dabi steps between you in a blink, hand flaring hot with blue fire.

“Touch them,” he growls, “and you die next.”

Toga tilts her head, playful. But you see it—the calculation behind her eyes. He means it.

She pouts. “Spoilsport.”

Another boom behind her. Shigaraki’s voice—sharp and distorted—barks orders down the hall. Toga twirls her knife once, then skips off with a giggle, leaving a fresh smear of blood in her wake.

Dabi yanks you forward harder now. His hand burns hot where it grips your arm, heat seeping through your skin like a brand.

“She won’t play nice again,” he mutters. “Next time, you run first.”

The corridors twist tighter now—narrower, darker. You can hear more footsteps ahead. More screams.

At the last junction before the east exit, you almost collide with Mr. Compress.

He’s holding a small black orb, fingers twitching like he’s debating what to compress and what to destroy.

He raises an eyebrow when he sees Dabi dragging you behind him.

“So it’s true,” Compress says calmly. “You’re picking your favorite.”

Dabi flares his hand in warning, blue flame licking the edges of his fingers. “You want to test me?”

Compress chuckles. “Not tonight.”

He steps aside—but his eyes linger on you, sharp and knowing.

“You’ll have to burn more than wires to cover this,” he says, voice low.

Then he’s gone.

Dabi snarls under his breath, pulls you faster now. You stumble, legs burning.

I can’t keep up, you think wildly. I can’t—

But then the cold hits.

Steel door. Partial breach. The outer hallway, near the abandoned loading docks.

Dabi slams a palm to the panel, overrides it with a crack of sparks. The door lurches open just enough for him to wedge through, dragging you behind him.

Cold night air hits your face like a slap. Sharp. Icy. Clean.

You don’t get time to breathe.

“Move!” Dabi barks.

You run. Down cracked asphalt, weaving between rusted crates and old loading frames. Lights sweep the far end—someone’s got drones in the sky.

“Keep your head down!” he snarls, forcing you into a crouch behind a rusted trailer.

Bullets snap through the air overhead—sharp, metallic zings that make your ears ring.

Someone’s shooting now. Maybe heroes. Maybe feds. You can’t tell anymore.

“Where—” you gasp. “Where do we go?”

Dabi’s breathing hard, but his voice is steady. Deadly. “Away from this shithole.”

Another boom. The warehouse behind you belches smoke and flame—orange now, mixing with the stars. You hear metal tearing. Screams.

Dabi yanks a second burner phone from his coat and dials fast.

“Get the fucking car,” he snarls into it. “Now. East lot. No backup.”

He crushes the phone in his fist after the call, blue flame eating the plastic to nothing.

Then his hands are on you again—not rough. Urgent.

“You stay with me,” he says, low and fierce. His face is closer than it’s ever been—eyes wild, breath hot. “No matter what you hear. No matter what you see. You do not let go.”

You nod, gasping. “I—I won’t.”

“Swear it.”

“I swear.”

And then—he pulls you up, arm tight around your waist, heat radiating through your clothes.

Together, you sprint for the far lot as the League tears itself apart behind you.

The lot is a graveyard.

Half the old transport trucks are rusted skeletons, wheels eaten through, axles split wide open. The chain-link fence beyond them sags inward, broken in three places.

And in the far corner, a blacked-out SUV idles—silent. No headlights.

Dabi drags you toward it in a low crouch, hand searing hot on your side now, steadying you when your legs nearly buckle.

“Almost there,” he mutters, voice rough.

Your lungs burn. The world spins at the edges of your vision. But you don’t let go.

You can’t.

Two figures step out from the car as you near. One is Spinner again—hood up, blades glinting under one arm. The other is a masked driver you don’t recognize.

“Dabi, hurry the fuck up!” Spinner hisses. “East sector’s already breached—”

A new round of gunfire cuts him off. Sparks erupt along the asphalt as bullets rake the lot behind you.

Dabi doesn’t flinch. He spins, throws up one hand, and a column of blue flame erupts between you and the shooter—searing hot, so bright it blinds you for half a second.

“GO!” he roars.

Spinner throws the rear door open.

Dabi shoves you in first, hard enough that you tumble across the seat. Before you can right yourself, he’s in behind you, slamming the door shut with a crunch of metal.

“Drive,” he growls.

The SUV peels out fast—tires screeching as it fishtails through the crumbling fence and onto the frost-slick road beyond.

You’re shaking now—body overloaded, heart hammering against your ribs so hard it aches.

You barely register that Dabi is still pressed tight beside you, arm braced against the door, body heat still rolling off him like a second furnace.

It’s not until you glance sideways that you realize:

His hand is still wrapped around yours. Tight. White-knuckled.

Like he forgot to let go.

The car takes another sharp turn. You gasp, body thrown against him—but this time, he pulls you closer, arm sliding fully around your shoulders. No words. No explanation.

Just there. Here.

You close your eyes for half a beat. Not because you trust him—trust is long gone. But because your body can’t take any more.

His breath is ragged in your ear when he finally speaks.

“We’re not safe yet,” he says, voice low. “They’ll hunt us.” Unsure if he means the heroes or what’s left of the League. It’s likely both.

You force your eyes open, force the words out.

“Then where do we go?”

His jaw tightens.

“Somewhere they won’t look first.”

He leans his head back against the seat with a rough exhale.

And for the first time since this started—since the warehouse, since the leash around your throat loosened—Dabi sounds genuinely tired.

Not angry. Not bored. Not volatile.

Just tired.

And beneath the exhaustion, you hear it:

He has no plan for this.Not anymore. Not since you stopped being a hostage and started becoming something else.

You squeeze his hand once—just a flicker of pressure.

For a heartbeat, he squeezes back.

And as the SUV vanishes into the dark, leaving the ruin in its wake—neither of you looks back.

reblogs + comments are very much appreciated !

taglist (open + ask to be added): @reggieswriter @d4rlinxs @dabislittlemouse @jelliephia @tulnht @ninja-hxych @slothsmoths @sukunasbabymomma @moremaple

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sincerelyhunnybee · 10 days ago

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oh my god, they were roommates!

pairing: nanami kento x fushiguro toji

contains: alcohol consumption, smoking, frotting, anal fingering, whitney sub!toji, dom!nanami, bisexual tojinana <3; word count: 2.2k

author's note: happy pride divas! i'm making my favorite dolls kiss and i'm sitting in the cuck chair :3 this is a slightly edited, not proofread repost from my old blog, i hope you enjoy <3

please read my rules before interacting! minors, ageless / blank blogs will be blocked!

the sun started stretching its limbs over the horizon as two men stumbled home. when they arrived, the lock clicked and the door swung open. in wobbled toji and kento, both very drunk and very horny. they sported a fat boner each, feeling too awkward to look at each other despite being roommates for years.

taking off their shoes and jackets clumsily, an uncomfortable silence hung over them. kento was in the middle of getting them both a glass of water when toji blurted out: “wanna make out?”

the blond man could only nod.

toji had drunkenly confessed to kento earlier on the night that he thinks he might like guys too, in that slurred speech he always has when intoxicated. kento, a heavyweight in drinking and still feeling quite sober, was taken aback but also intrigued. so he did what he does best, staying quiet and listening.

“ah, forget i ever said anything, i’m just drunk,” toji had waved him off when kento wanted to talk to him about it later. “let's get more shots!”

well, those few shots later, toji had brought the topic up again, cigarette in hand.

“y’know, if i was gay, i’d fuck ya, ken,” he slurred. kento took a long drag from his cigarette, looking at his roommate with raised eyebrows. “why?”

“i mean, what's not t’like? y’r handsome, smart, come from a good family and you make people very happy from what i heard.” the black-haired man winked at him and took another swig from his beer. toji laughed boisterously when kento cringed at that last part and its insinuation. the walls in their apartment were indeed thin and the amount of times they had heard each other fuck was astronomical.

“thanks, toji. but who's saying you’d do the fuckin’?” kento retorted, causing toji to swiftly choke on his beer. when their gazes met, the tension started to rise, a spark waiting for a match to strike.

“i ain't no fucking bottom.”

but now, in their drunken stupor, kento and toji found themselves on their shared couch. lips conjoined, spit swapped and toji whimpering under kento's touch. toji was trapped under kento’s large build, his thick legs wrapped around the other’s waist and hips seemingly having a mind of their own.

toji leaned back, panting, “i've never had anything in my ass before, not even a finger.”

“y’sure you don't wanna try? feels good from what i heard,” kento murmured against toji’s wet lips. toji was flushed, crimson rising from his chest to his cheeks to the tips of his ears. “you tried it?” he whispered, scared to talk any louder.

kento nodded, pulling his shirt over his head. “only on my own though, but it did feel nice. and my gay friends can't seem to get enough of it, so there must be something to it.” he delved down to toji’s jaw, leaving gentle kisses in his wake.

toji whined, feeling out of his element since he usually did that part. taking care of someone, their pleasure, making them flustered and see stars. it was embarrassing for him to be in that position but not necessarily unpleasant. kento’s lips against his scorching skin felt… really good, actually. his hands were everywhere, on kento’s shoulders, in his hand, on his back, his hips, his—

toji sobered up very quickly there, apologizing profusely when he was interrupted by kento gently taking his hand, cold into warm, and placed it on his heavy bulge. he then placed his own on toji’s, forcing a whimper out of the mean-mugged man at the friction.

“it's okay. you can always say stop and we’ll stop. i won't do anything you don't want, toji. i just wanna make you feel good. because i am.”

as those words left kento’s lips, toji pulled him down, their lips crashing together once more. as their tongues danced around each other, toji pushed kento back, straddling him. he felt like he was going to explode, arousal thickening his blood to the point where toji couldn't think straight anymore.

they only parted for toji to almost rip off his shirt out of nervousness. as soon as the fabric was gone, he dove right back in, teeth clacking against kento’s. the blond man chuckled at toji’s eagerness. it was a little awkward, big hands and muscles everywhere but neither of them complained. their hips moved in tandem, the seams of their jeans creating the most delicious friction on their restrained cocks.

“kentooo…feels so good,” toji whined, drool threatening to spill out of his mouth. kento could only watch with half-lidded eyes, watching intently where their clothed bodies met. he never in his wildest dreams would've thought that toji, his roommate, one of his closest friends, the loudest, rudest and most confident man he knew, would fall apart like this. because of him.

the heat between them felt like an impending supernova and they shed themselves of their remaining clothes, trying to combat it. sure, they'd seen each other naked at home on accident – more or less – and after practice in the showers. but still, seeing toji’s build – and cock – right in front of his face made kento flustered. little did he know that toji felt the same.

the latter got comfortable on kento’s lap again, their dicks touching and twitching against each other. a warm hand wrapped around their lengths and kento started a slow jerking motion. a simultaneous groan of 'oh fuuuck' erupted from their chests, their hips moving in sync. toji let drool run from his tongue, down his lips and chin onto their cocks, lubricating whatever kento was doing to him. toji didn't understand, mind too hazy from the alcohol and the arousal rushing all the way down to his dick.

“ken, please,” toji whimpered, “more.”

kento could only oblige, how could he say no when he was asked so nicely, all breathy and desperate?

he moved his hand faster, the friction becoming almost too much to bear. toji’s spit and their precum made it more slippery, adding to the intoxicating rush.

toji gripped kento’s shoulders, nails leaving indents with the ferocity he was holding onto the other man and kento groaned. the blond man leaned forward, lips attaching to toji’s collarbone, sucking on the damp skin.

“need, haa… need more, kento. please, wanna try it,” the raven-haired male whimpered, the alcohol making it hard to finish without added stimulation. kento could barely make out the words. but when his brain finally registered them, he gasped and gripped toji's face, squishing the latter’s cheeks. the hand that was currently jerking them off halted and toji cried out in frustration.

“what'd you say?” kento inquired, heart and mind racing.

“mmm – wanna try it. wanna have your fingers in me, please?” toji begged through smushed cheeks. kento paused, trying to sober up and bring himself back to earth. there were tears making their way to toji’s dark eyes at the thick silence that settled between them. scared that he'd asked too much of his roommate, toji tried to wiggle out of kento’s grasp, but to no avail.

“let me get some lube then.” kento’s gentle voice reached toji’s bright red ears and he was gently pushed off the other’s lap and onto the soft couch before kento sprinted to his room. he emerged soon enough, a small bottle in his hand.

“it'd hurt without it,” he mused, awkwardly wiggling it between his fingers. toji let out an amused huff through his nose, shuffling around. “how d’ya want me?”

they were back to their starting position, kento hovering above toji, lube being warmed up between his fingers. toji spread his legs, looking away with a burning blush as he exposed himself.

kento gave him a warm smile. “you sure you wanna do this? and with me?”

toji gave a nod, his blush intensifying. “yeah. if anyone puts a finger in my ass, i'd want it to be you. and we already got this far,” he grumbled, feeling even more exposed under kento's attentive gaze. the blond man breathed out an ‘okay’ before leaning back on his haunches. “i've never done this to another person before either so we're somewhat in the same boat.”

toji laughed, “oh yeah, totally the same thing.”

kento cringed at himself and got more comfortable, putting a throw pillow under toji's hips for more leverage. one hand was spreading the cheeks while the other found toji’s twitching hole, spreading some lube onto it. toji flinched but relaxed immediately, the sensation so unfamiliar to him. kento circled his finger around it, registering toji’s noises and reactions.

pushing past the tight ring of his entrance, toji let out a pornographic whine. one that made him slap his hands on his mouth out of embarrassment. kento smiled, peeling them off. “there's no one here, keep ‘em comin’.”

toji didn't know what to do with his hands, fingers twitching and rummaging to find something, anything to hold on to while kento provided him with heavenly pleasure. it was so unfamiliar, a little sting at the stretch but it felt *so* good. kento started thrusting his finger in and out of toji’s hole, his mouth agape and sweat running down his temple. toji started moaning unabashedly, eyes threatening to close but the need to watch kento was stronger. he was so focused on the way toji’s hole was sucking him in and toji swore he could feel his heart flutter.

kento started pushing in a second finger gently, feeling the resistance of toji's hole and slowly but surely edging it away. the black-haired man squirmed, gasping 'oh god, oh fuck!' at every gentle thrust.

kento started curling his fingers, seemingly looking for something in toji’s velvet walls. “digging for gold?” toji giggled and suddenly whimpered when kento pressed against a certain spot, precum running out of his swollen tip. “found it,” kento chuckled.

“wh-wha…what's that?” toji questioned, barely able to string a cohesive sentence together due to the white hot pleasure burning through his body.

kento grinned, adjusting their positions without pulling out, toji straddling him again on wobbly knees. “it's your prostate – s’posed to make ya feel really good,” kento murmured, still moving his fingers slowly. toji whined and started moving his hips, desperately trying to find that kind of pleasure again.

kento gripped both of their cocks again, a low moan emitting from his throat at the friction. toji kept grinding on his fingers, the ecstasy multiplied by kento’s warm hand and their cocks twitching against each other. “that's it, keep moving,” kento ordered and toji obliged, chasing his orgasm. the blond man started increasing the pace on his jerking, every tug more delicious than the last.

kento felt himself grow close as well. toji’s hole warm and clenching around his fingers, the cock hot and heavy against his and the sinful whimpers right in his ear had him spiraling quickly. he curled his fingers again, pressing against toji’s prostate and keeping the rough pads of his digits right there. toji reacted immediately, almost shouting at this point, white flashing behind his eyelids. his eyes were screwed shut, loud moans of 'please, please – gonna cum' echoing in kento’s ears. he stored that sound away for later.

“go ahead, cum for me, toji,” kento whispered loud enough for the other to hear. toji’s burning gaze found his as he spilled all over kento’s hand, hole clenching and unclenching almost as rhythmically as his heart was beating. a moan of kento’s name spilled from toji’s spit-slicked lips as he rode out his high, effectively pushing kento towards his. expletive groans left kento’s throat as he made an even bigger mess of them both, slowing down both of his hands as the overstimulation set in.

he let go of their softening cocks and pulled out his fingers with a lewd squelch, feeling toji slump against him. he quickly wiped his hands on the shirt that was thrown over the backrest before returning his touch to the man on top of him.

“i take back my statement from earlier. i would've done this sooner if i’d known how good it is,” toji mumbled sleepily against kento’s shoulder. the latter chuckled and patted the damp black hair. “well, you always know better afterwards.”

“you know what would've made it even better?” toji murmured, heartbeat slowing down and drowsiness taking over. kento hummed in question.

“having a girl sit on my face.”

that was the last thing toji said about it before dozing off and kento struggling to get him into bed. though, he kept that information safely tucked away in the back of his mind.

they never mentioned this encounter again after that, acting like nothing had changed. but the underlying sexual tension never truly left their friendship.

#sits my happy ass down here :3 #can i be sitting in the cuck chair next to you? 🙂‍↕️#i just kno kento taming the hell out of toji and i’m here for it #🍓.mutuals #🔁.reblog #jjk

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