𐙚 — I’m the Type to Bend Over, Take all the D*ck !
𐙚 JJK men [GOJO+GETO, CHOSO, HIGURUMA, NANAMI, TOJI+SUKUNA] x fem!reader | artwork by @/thatsallitchief | divider by @/cursed-carmine | mdni | m.list
𐙚 If there was anybody on campus that everyone wanted to get their hands on, it was you. Luckily for some guys, their wishes came true.
𐙚 a/n: these are separate but if you squint hard enough they’re connected :p
𐙚 Satoru Gojo ! ft. 𐙚 Suguru Geto !
[blowjob, slight hair pulling]
It all started at frat!jo's party.
“Well aren’t you just the prettiest star with my cock in your mouth?”
Satoru’s hand had a fistful of your hair, holding you steady while he fucked that pretty throat of yours. He finally got his hands on you after trying for for-fucking-ever. Satoru liked pretty things, and the way his heart leapt the moment his eyes landed on you for the first time was cartoonish. And it seemed you were friends with everyone except him! Even his twin brother ?! But fuckkk it was worth the wait.
“Fuck- that’s a good girl take it.” Your eyes, your pretty eyes looked up at the white haired male while he stared right back down at you. He moans at the way your knees spread on the floor, skirt hiked upon your waist while your fingers teased that pearl between your legs. So wet, the eye rolling whimpers making your pussy throb. “Gonna c—um so deeep down your- fuck- throat star.”
Frantic fingers rubbed at your clit, hips rutting against the wet fingers. Saliva began to leak down your chin, tears caught up in your waterline. And Satoru…oh Satoru. Your hips sputter against your fingers- they didn’t feel fast enough to match the speed he fucked your throat. Pretty blue eyes rolled, mouth falling open as he pushed your head deeper onto his big cock, warm globs of cum filled the space while your pussy fluttered, swallowing every drop.
“Now Satoru, who throws a party and isn’t even present- woah.” The door opens, pretty boy Suguru Geto stares at the scene in shock. Now, he’s walked in on Satoru plenty of times, but the shocker was you.
You smack Satoru’s hand in your hair, his eyes shooting open as you released him from your mouth. “Sh-Shit star wait m’still sensitive-“ All 8 thick inches, pink tip leaking sadly at the loss of warmth
“Shut up! I thought you locked the door? Stupid.”
It’s Suguru who closes the door (after stepping in and locking it). “I got to say, I’m quite surprised to see you Y/N. Thought you didn’t like Satoru.” A teasing smirk raises on his lips, Satoru’s long arm wrapping around your shoulder, cock throbbing against your skirt.
“Was all just sexual tension, right star?” A slap to your ass has you scoffing.
“You come to join Suguru?” He asks excitedly, and that’s how you ended up with your skirt wrapped in Suguru’s fist while he fucked you into Satoru’s mattress like his life depended on it. The white haired man watching while he stroked his sensitive cock to match Suguru’s rhythm. Other than the beats of the music outside, the rhythmic thump ! thump ! creak-thump ! of Satoru’s bed showed. the poor wall behind it no mercy.
“Mmmhp- f-fuck slow down-“ Breathless broken moans pouring into the soft material below you. So wet that Suguru slipped in and out of you with ease, his thick cock head bullying that sweet spot inside of you. So deep that your pussy squeezed around him, the wet squelches of your pretty cunt messily painting a white ring around his cock.
“Hah— hahhh fuck Angel- y’feel so good..”
“S-Sugu-“ Your broken whines send Satoru’s thumb to cover his tip, cum threatening to spill over that pretty face of yours. Suguru shudders, eyes squeezing shut. His hand finds the center of your back, pushing you down to deepen your arch. “O-OH—!” Your body trembles, his biggg dick slipping even deeper into your waiting heat.
“Gonna cum so deep Angel- shit- shit— cumming…fuckkkk”
Fuck. Satoru wanted to take a picture at the scene, his cum splattering across of your face while Suguru’s cock was buried to the hilt as he filled you up, and you better not waste anything.
𐙚 Choso Kamo !
[ sex while under the influence, smoking during sex, fingering, squirting ]
You’ve always been plug!Choso's favorite customer.
You never once had to pay for a damn thing, all he asked for was company while he smoked. Choso who liked you so much (just as much as about anyone) he bought you pretty pink papers to roll your weed up in.
“Stop..teasing Cho.”
Choso who spoiled you so much he called you Princess, and you didn’t mind. The same man who had his pretty lips wrapped around your lipgloss stained blunt. Red eyes low while he lazily rubbed the thick tip of his dick over your cum coated hole. Like the princess you were, you had that pretty back arched for him just the way he liked you to, pink lacy panties pulled to the side.
“It’s so wet princess..” He sighs, tilting his head back as he took a hit of the blunt, inhaling the smoke before passing it down to you.
See, Choso liked taking his time with you. Every movement he made during sex was calculated, he knew what spots made you scream, and he knew what spots would have you squirting all over his bed. Many people wanted you, but Choso had you. He didn’t want to date, just company while he smoked…and pussy.
With his focus on that pretty gaping hole of yours, ready to take him again, Choso fed you like you wanted- like she wanted. Low groan escaping his lips, your eyes closing feeling yourself make room for his big dick as you sucked him in. His hands trembled lightly at your hips, fingers digging into your skin. Inch by inch he pushed all those inches deep inside.
“Mmmfuck Cho-“ You gasp softly, your other hand fisting the sheets while he rocked against you steadily. Your lips kissed the blunt, inhaling the smoke. The moment you took that deep breath, Choso pulls allll the way out with a pop ! before shoving his cock all back in.
“Shitttt, Princess.” He whines, your warm gummy walls swallowing him, begging him to go deeper. But Choso knew what you wanted, he always knew. Shaky hands hold the blunt up towards him. The room stuffy with sex and weed. The slapping of skin echoing throughout as he pounded into that pretty pussy slow but so hard. “Need to fill you up hm?”
The blunt passed back and forth between you two, the pap pap pap sound getting louder by the second. “A-Ahh Cho——w-wait fuck-“ Your head was spinning, mouth agape while he hit that spot over and over again. Drool spilled from your lips, and Choso looked down with those red eyes…
You cry out, the blunt between you two gets put out by Choso so he could fuck you faster with no distractions.
The sight so pretty he wanted to take a picture. “Rub that pretty clit for me princess…that’s right- good girlll.”
Bite marks on the back of your shoulders (that he’d definitely get yelled at for later), your pussy sucking him in and creaming. That white ring getting bigger and bigger by the second. “Right there-“ You groan, fingers making quick work of the sensitive pearl between your legs as you leaked down your fingers.
“Mmm right here?” He smirks down at you, biting his lip while he angled for that spot— that spot he knew drove you crazy.
It only made him want to go faster. To cum inside of you again. “Wanna see this hole— mmph— dripping when m’done-“ Your eyes roll, a shuddering sigh as your body relaxes, a cool breeze pouring over you, your pussy squeezing around him- milking him.
“Th-There she is..” Choso buries himself inside of you, angling at that spot to pour alll of his cum into. “Hahhh fuck..” He lets his head fall back, letting out a soft groan as he planted his seed.
“Spread open, princess.” his voice soft in your ear, inch by inch of his slick coated cock pulling out from your leaking pussy.
“mmmph..” you hold your pussy open for him, his cum seeping out and dripping down onto the soft surface of his bed. Your fingers take a quick dip inside, a small sigh leaving your lips while you throbbing around the digits as more of his cum poured out. Choso always came a lot.
Choso stroked his cock at the sight. Both of you sensitive to the slight overstimulation. But you held it open for him, and his cock slips right back in and out, in and out as you tug gently at your clit. Your legs had a slight tremble to them, eyes squeezing shut while he rutted back into you.
𐙚 Nanami Kento !
[choking, squirting]
It’s always a hassle when you don’t want to go to the gym with 𐙚 med student!Nanami, after promising you’d lock in this time.
“M-M’sorry Nana- f—fuck s’too deep-“
“Hahh…You’re not sorry, sweetheart. You do this every week.”
Your poor couch wasn’t ready for the “at home” exercise Nanami had planned for you this week.
“Does it hurt?” He hums. The firm grip on the back of your neck loosened. Your breath unsteady as your legs shook with a wet globing mess of his cum mixed with your juices trailing allll down your thighs. Shaking your head, you hiccuped, the cushion pillow beneath your head caught majority of your cries and pleasure filled tears.
“Feels good…” You whine, pretty pussy squeezing around Nanami’s thick cock that was buried to the hilt inside of you.
“Yeah? Where does it feel good sweetheart?” He coos, voice soft in your ear. Nanami’s hips pull back, dragging his longgg cock with him until the thick head pops ! out of your pussy. He took a long swipe of his cum pouring from your hole before he thrusted back in all at once. You squeal, the grip on your neck tightening back to just the way you liked it- the way Nanami knew you liked it.
“Ri—-ight there- !” A sharp gasp is pulled from your body, Nanami’s hand finding a grip on your ass cheek to see the mess he was making. Sweet groans spilled. Nanami’s glasses began to fog. He throws his head back, biting down on his lip with a small smack ! of your ass that has your pussy squeezing around him.
“Yeah? You like when I fuck you here sweetheart?” Cock bullying your puffy pussy. You swear you could feel him right in your heart with the repeated thrust thrust thrust he poured into you. And fuckkk you were so wet, Nanami couldn’t help the loud whine dripping from his lips.
“—-um— gonna…gonna cum ‘gin Nana.” Your eyes squeeze shut. Your warning whimpers did nothing for the man pounding into you. He made it worse- thick fingers leaving your ass to that pretty pearl right between your legs. “Nana-“
“She’s taking me so well, sweetheart.” His thrusts slowed, fingers rubbing circles around your sensitive clit that has your hips jerking. “Listen to that…” The wet sounds echoing across your apartment alongside your moans would definitely be a complaint from your neighbor later.
The fingers worked at your clit. Pound after pound he poured into you, tugging at the sensitive nerve until he felt that wet splash onto his thighs. “Fuck fuck— fuck !” The loud broken whimper of your high came crashing down, Nanami’s fingers still rubbing- his cock still fucking into you while you squirted.
“Good girl, sweetheart.” His hand leaves your neck, his body feeling hot as he leaned over you, kissing the pretty tears away from those pretty eyes. “So good for me, hm?” He cums with a shuddering sigh deep into your womb. The warmth making you shiver, repeated kisses littering your cheek as you panted against the pillow.
“We’re going to the gym tomorrow. Right sweetheart?”
𐙚 Toji Fushiguro ! ft. Ryomen Sukuna !
[degrading: reader gets called a slut, blowjob, fingering, spanking, choking, public sex, anal]
Now, college is fun. You’re a smart girl who has good grades. A smart girl who likes to party and have fun also. But too much fun can cause you to get pulled over by your favorite policemen. Unfortunately, the moment you got pulled over this time you were fucked.
“I know this car. Damn, you must like getting pulled over doll?”
“Tsk tsk. Brat, can’t stay out of trouble, can you?”
The taunting voices of 𐙚 police officer ! Toji and 𐙚 police officer ! Sukuna had you sighing as they knocked on your window.
Sukuna lets out a laugh, the both of them leaning on either side of your door— Toji taps the window with a smirk on his face. You let your windows down as you leaned your head on your steering wheel.
“What is it this time? You high?” Sukuna asks, straight up as he peered into your window. It wasn’t your first time getting pulled over by the two- in fact it’s always them when you get pulled over, and fuck they loved their job a bit too much when it came to you.
“No sir…” Which wasn’t entirely a lie, you were high but you’re sober now from how long you were over at Choso’s…
“Mmmhm. So why’re y’swervin like that this time of night, doll face?” Toji gruffs out as he shakes his head, tapping the roof of your car. “Cmon get out, you know the routine.”
Sukuna watched as you unbuckled your seatbelt, and he opens the door for you. The pink haired man’s flashlight flashed into your car as per the protocol, but you all knew they weren’t really going to arrest you.
Two of Toji’s thick fingers beckon you forward. His eyes trailing up your exposed legs curiously, a smirk curling in the corner of his scarred lip. It really wasn’t a good time. You were in really short shorts with one of Choso’s t-shirts that was a bit big on your frame that it exposed your bite mark littered shoulder, and the faint hickey’s littering your neck. No bra.
And then he got a realll good look at you. Your face flushed in embarrassment (and something more), your lips puffy looking, and most importantly…you squeezed your thighs together. Even Sukuna caught on and gave a knowing look to his partner.
“Hiding somethin’?” Sukuna’s deep voice from behind you sent shivers down your spine.
“No sir, Officer Sukuna.” You squeak. His body walking around yours as he looked you up and down, curious brow raised. Toji snorts, patting his shoulder as the taller man joined his side.
“Who was it this time? That Gojo boy?”
“Or is it the uhh- shit- what’s the long haired ones name?”
“Suguru Geto?”
“Yeah that one.”
The two cops laugh, beginning to talk about how much Satoru got on their nerves and how many parties they’ve had to give warning to. You roll your eyes, shifting in your step. “It was neither.”
Toji licks his lips as their focus turns back towards you. “Alright doll face. Sure I don’t need to check between those legs this time?” You bite your lip at the footsteps nearing you again. His thumb grazes your chin, tilting your head up and fuck he smelled good.
“I’m sure, Officer Fushiguro.” Your voice sweet, innocent sounding just the way everyone hears it while you bat those pretty lashes….Except Toji knew it was bullshit the moment you started acting sweet. His eyes narrow. Pulling back from you he starts walking to their car, talking Sukuna on the shoulder. The taller man pulls you in by your waist.
“What I tell you ‘bout lying brat? Hm?”
The road was dark apart from the orange hue of the campus streetlights nearby. Your body was hot as you whimpered against the dark hairs resting at the base of Toji’s cock, bent over with your legs spread, Choso’s cum leaking down your pussy while Sukuna spreads the soft skin of your ass open to watch.
“Lost your damn mind, doll face.” His big cock stretching your fucked lips, his hand finding your hair and tugging. A loud smack ! to your ass as you squealing around the twitching muscle, pre cum sliding down your throat.
Toji finds a slow steady rhythm at first, and oh…those pretty eyes looked up at him. “That’s it…take it.”
“You spoil her too much.” The man behind you huffs at his partner. Toji tugs at your hair, pulling a moan right out of you while he smirked.
“Shit- can’t help it. She’s s’pretty —heh- with my dick in her mouth. Aren’t you doll face?” He groans, saliva dripping down to his heavy balls that slapped against your chin.
You hear the clink of Sukuna’s belt being unbuckled, those thick fingers caressing your clit, making you shiver as you rolled your hips slightly for more friction. However, cum still dripped from that pretty pussy. “Gotta be fuckin’ kidding me.” He curses before those two fingers slip into your hole with ease- with familiarity. A loud squelch ! echoed throughout the dark road as he curled them inside of your heat.
“Fuckin slut.” And his fingers reached deep, causing you to squirm. You whine, hips pushing back. “Mmmph ‘Kuna-“ Your moans muffled. Your hand found the thick of Toji’s thighs to steady yourself while he fucked your throat.
“Tch, he pumped you full too.”
He adds another finger, the trio working you open. When it came down to Sukuna and Toji, you genuinely had to brace yourself. Toji’s cock slips from your mouth for you to take a breath, “Tongue out.” His hand holds your chin, watching your mouth fall open.
“That’s a good girl.” He stroked his cock with the collected spit. Two long strokes of his deep pink cock, the tip thick and almost red. Two thick veins underlined it down to his base. He tapped it against the flat of your tongue. Your tongue licks the dribble of pre cum, kissing the gorgeous tip. You hear Sukuna let out a soft groan behind you, his thumb rubbing your clit as his fingers fucked you faster.
“right there-“ you gasp, your eyes fluttering shut for a. “p-please m’so close ‘Kuna—“
“Gonna take care of you doll face.” Like they always did.
“Let us show you grown men fuck.”
“You’re really hardheaded. Thought I told you I didn’t want this pussy to be filled the next time I fucked you?”
Your head leaned back onto Toji’s shoulder, his big hand squeezing around your throat. “Sh-Shit— ahh- ah please!” Fast fingers rubbed at your clit. His cock fucking into the welcoming hole of your ass, while Sukuna’s big hands held your thighs spread wide open.
“Please what?” His hips slammed into yours, biggg cock stretching out the gummy walls of your pussy wide.
“Can’t take it-“
“Oh you can take it.” Toji huffs in your ear, the flushed head of his cock slipping in and out… in and out with ease. The sticky mess acting as lubricant between your legs. Your legs that shook violently in Sukuna’s grasp.
“M-Mhm..feels s’good don’t it?”
“Yes—! Yesohfuckohfuck”
They found a steady fast rhythm that had you hiccuping. The sounds of skin slapping and your incoherent moans echoed throughout the dark road. Anyone could drive by and see you being fucked by them.
Toji’s groans were loud in your ear. “Takin’ us s’good doll face…like a goood slut.”
“To—ji!” You whimper.
His grip on your neck loosening, “Yeah? You like that pretty girl? Like us fillin’ you up?” and he coos, bringing his fingers to your lips, “Spit.”
Saliva drips down your chin, the gathered spit going straight between your legs. You yelp, hips bucking as the feeling rushes over you. The wet splash between your legs splattered, only making them go faster.
Sukuna lets out a warning grunt. His face a light shade of pink, sweat dripping down his forehead. “Gonna fill you up the way I want to. Understand brat?”
“mm-‘hmm” You whine out, lips parting, your moans growing louder by the second. Between the cocks filling your holes, the fingers rubbing your clit, and the hand around your throat- fuck you could do this for days.
“Dont ever let me catch you like this again.” Sukuna’s voice was hot in your ear, Toji’s chuckle following after. Your insides were so warm. Letting out a breathless moan, you relax against Toji’s chest. Your holes full as they pulled out.
…and as a safety precaution, Sukuna drove you back to your apartment while Toji drove your car there.
𐙚 Hiromi Higuruma !
[public sex, pussy eating]
𐙚 law student!Higuruma abided by campus rules- any rules for that matter. He did things fairly by the law, he was a future lawyer after all.
“I—oh fuck-!” Sometimes, he didn’t. Very rarely.
His hands were hot on your thighs as he held them up, your back against the cool polished wood of the table. Front and center in the campus courtroom used for mock trial. Hiromi found his face buried comfortably between your legs.
His tongue lapped at your slick coated folds, moaning at the taste. Higuruma loved being between your legs after all. The way he ate you out with care, his nose rubbing against your clit. Your pussy dripping with saliva and your juices.
“You taste heavenly, have I ever told you that my sweet girl?” The way he ate you with care, the smell of your body oil filling his nose while he dove deeper into your heat. His tongue took a long stripe up to your clit, carrying your juices with it while he sucked on that pretty pearl.
“Hiro— ah-ah-“ You whimper, withering in his grasp. Your hand found his hair, pulling him in deeper. His tongue slips into your hole, your warmth welcoming him, and he groans. Your slick made a mess of his chin, his lips, and his nose.
“Mmfuck sweet girl. Tase’ so good.” His eyes close for a second, just taking in you. Fuck you drove him crazy. He lets up for just a bit, big eyes staring up at your skirt. You were still in your outfit, panties pulled to the side while he tongue fucked you.
“M’so close Hiro…f-fuck keep licking there.” The sloppy sound of Higuruma salvaging his meal echoed throughout the large empty room, sky dark outside. You were in there after the building closed for the day after all, even after the janitor did his rounds.
Two of his fingers slip there way into your hole making you squirm. He curls his fingers alongside his tongue, pressing up against that sweet spot inside of you. Your legs shook.
“Give it to me…You know what I want.” He spits a fat glob into your hole, fucking it right into you as as he panted, smug smile on his lips as he loosed his tie. You let yourself fall apart, his fingers reaching deeper into your pretty pussy.
“Gonna cum Hiro-“ You whimper. Higuruma’s tongue latches back onto your sensitive clit with such a loud nasty suck. “Ohh oh fuck- shit- shit- Hiromi!”
He still sucked on your pearl as you squirted. His fingers still fucking sloppily into your pussy, the wet squelch getting wetter by the second. You whine, pushing his head away, you pussy throbbing from the hard wave of your orgasm.
Table wet beneath you, legs spread wide open after Higuruma stands up straight to look down at your panting body. His tongue swiped across his lips. Painfully hard cock straining his pants. His thumb traced sweet circles on your inner thighs, cooing softly. “Such a good girl…mm I have to reward you now, don’t I?” His warm body leans over yours, wet kisses trailing up your body until they landed on your lips.
You whine, tasting yourself on his tongue. He pulled your legs to wrap around his waist, your hands wrapping around his shoulders as you pulled him in closer. He rutted against your unclothed pussy, groaning softly into your mouth. “On your stomach.” He taps your thigh gently.
Now, Higuruma made sure you stayed out of trouble. You were his sweet girl after all. He took care of you in the best ways that he could while keeping up with his studies. He didn’t worry about any other guys, because Higuruma knew the way he made you break had you coming back to him each and every time.
“This is what you wanted, am I right?” His hips slam against your ass, the grip on your hips firm but gentle. Your hands held on to the front of the table, as you look back at him. His tired eyes were closed, head tilted back in pleasure, adam’s apple moving as he swallowed. Higuruma’s hair was tousled from the way you pulled on it, and his face a sweet shade of red.
“Just- just what I needed Hiro…” You moan, lips falling open. It was no secret that Higuruma’s dick was big, dark and pretty, long enough to kiss that spot inside of you and farther with every thrust. And your pussy loved it. Loved the feeling of being full of Hiromi Higuruma’s cock, the top law student of his class.
“Yeah?” His hand comes down on your ass with a smack ! making you moan louder.
“Yes—fuck yes!”
“You’re always running back to me Sweet Girl.” He deepens your arch, pushing the center of your back just a bit before he picked up pace. Smack ! Smack ! Smack ! the room echoed. Higuruma swallowed all of your broken moans. Your legs shaking, the grip on the table turning your palms white.
His hand rubs your back, to your shoulders, to the front of your neck. You yelp as he pulls your head back, your mouth open as pleasure filled tears slip from your pretty eyes. “Look at you…so beautiful.” He shudders. “Want me to cum inside?”
You’ve never said yes more quickly in your life. You could feel him deep inside, bulging your stomach. Higuruma lets out a groan, hand hot against your neck. “Rub your clit for me sweet girl, wanna cum at the same time.” He grunts, his deep groans like music to your ears.
Fingers rub at your slik coated clit, your pearl tingling with every thrust- with every touch. Your whole body buzzed, eyes rolling. “M-Mgonna cum— fuck fuck I f-feel it- Oh-!”A loud moan is ripped from you with one final thrust from the man, his cock buried to the hilt as he cums deep inside of you, fucking every last bit into that pretty pussy.
He pulls out once soft, not even the slightest drop of cum spilling. “Hold it in.” The hold on your neck softens, and you lay your head on the table, body tired. Sweet kisses litter your back as you panted.
They always sandwich you in the shower whenever they can, its a rare thing to happen, there's no way they're gonna miss out on it when you all meet. Varka's idea, yet Flins looks even more excited for it, though looking at his face you'd think he wants to kill you with that glare, you know him better than that.
Your hands cup Varka's pecs as you're soaping him up, you can feel him shiver against you as you let out a small whimper at Flins nipping at your ear. Flins' hands massaging your inner thighs, fingers brushing against your dick ever so slightly as he hides a small smile on the back of your neck, the way you're grinding on him so desperately is adorable.
Always escalates, doesn't even take 5 minutes of teasing, they are both grinding their hips down against your ass and your own hips, Varka on the front Flins at the back, humping and leaving bites all over your neck at the same time. You can't help but gasp, your breath caught in your throat at the look Varka gives you, it's so hungry it makes you shiver—along with the cold water hitting your warm body trapped between even warmer ones. The heat would be unbearable if you weren't so desperately horny.
You whine into Varka's mouth as Flins' hand is stroking your cock, you can feel Varka's stomach grinding against the head of your cock as cold water keeps slipping through, Varka's fingers on your nipples aren't helping your legs keep themselves up as your body tightens up and shivers. You hear Flins huff behind you, "You're throbbing so much against my hand, you're close aren't you?", an open mouthed kiss on the juncture of your neck, "don't hold back, you can cum", you cum with a moan that Varka shushes with a kiss, all over his hand. He tugs on your dick just to hear you cry out from overstimulation as you arch your back, your chest flat against Varka's.
Flins may look like he isn't feeling anything at first but he's the one groping your ass, kissing your neck and nuzzling against you like a cat, it's his version of wanting to fuck you first. Varka, ever the chivalrous captain, lets him. He does want your mouth on him though.
Varka's dick is deep down your throat as Flins keeps you in place with a tight grip on your waist, his dick pounding in and out of you with the filthiest sounds echoing inside the bath. Varka chuckles breathlessly at the way you're choking a little on his dick, "too big, gorgeous? You haven't had a problem before," he pats your cheek, "c'mon, I know you can take it." Flins grunts as you clench tighter around him, you're burning up, he can feel himself getting red just from your body heat, the cold water streaming between your bodies making him shudder as his hips move on instinct. You always manage to make him dumb with just your ass.
Flins can't help but get a feel of your ass as he's fucking you, the noises your mouth and ass are making on their cocks has his head spinning as his nails dig into the flesh of your ass, his dick twitching inside you as your body shudders from the sensation.
Flins angles himself just right to hit your prostate as he's getting closer, making you moan around Varka's dick, the sensation has Varka's hips bucking into your mouth with a low moan of your name, the slick and loud sounds of sex fill the room as they both moan your name at the same time, Flins is throbbing so much inside you— his hips losing rythm as he desperately ruts into you, Varka's pre-cum pooling all over your tongue as his stiffens inside you. You moan out of surprise as Flins smacks your ass, Varka breathlessly chuckles—interrupting himself with a loud moan as his hips stiffen, his cock twitches once, twice before cumming down your throat. Flins bites his bottom lip at the sight, making a small noise as he's pulled into a kiss above you by Varka, you almost slip but Flins' hold on you tightens as he thrusts inside you once, twice and cum with a strained moan that Varka traps in his mouth with a kiss.
Of course, Flins' hand dives down to your dick immediately when Varka gets you up from your position and pushed your back flat against Flins' chest, your moans making his dick strain against your ass as he strokes you to finish, Varka kissing you through your high as Flins bites down on your earlobe.
❛ A TRIAL OF INTIMACY AND ROMANCE ❜ MINORS DO NOT INTERACT
౿ it wasn’t unlike your boyfriend alhaitham and his roommate kaveh to get into playful spats, you just didn’t think that one day you would end up at the centre of one… in the best way possible.
alhaitham x fem reader x kaveh. threesome though it’s mostly alhaitham letting kaveh touch you. fem oral receiving. alhaitham cums his pants. alot of haikaveh bickering. teasing. you are alhaitham’s gf. a small smidge of possessiveness. pussyjob (and an accidental tip slip). groping and touches.
word count. 7.8k words. ₊ 𓂃 return to masterlist.
You like to think you have a good relationship with your boyfriend's roommate, Kaveh.
It was an almost instantaneous sort of connection when Alhaitham had first introduced you both and despite what the Scribe may claim (playfully for the most part) – you dont think his roommate is a particularly hard person to get along with at all. Infact you might even say he was quite the opposite.
Kaveh has always been kind to you, keeping you company if Alhaitham was busy with work or even just listening to your troubles, and you’re glad that you both ended up building such a strong friendship considering how much time you wind up spending over at your boyfriend’s house.
Well, that and as much as Alhaitham would never admit it, you do believe that he wants Kaveh to like you, because despite how often the both of them may bicker and fight – you think there was a reciprocated sort of respect between them both. They were best friends after all – it's normal to want your bestfriend to get along with your girlfriend.
And thankfully, to your boyfriend’s pleasure, both of your personalities seemed to slot together quite easily. Sure, Kaveh was the opposite of Alhaitham in many ways – he was a little more emotional, dramatic and outspoken but he was also kind-hearted and gentle. You’d shared breakfasts together, dinners or drinks at the Tavern and despite the way the blonde never could hold his alcohol – he always seemed to get a little sappier whenever he ended up a little tipsy around you.
He’d always gush about how grateful he was that you came into not only his, but Alhaitham’s life – claiming that you helped to loosen and soften him up a bit, though both of you know that the Scribe would never admit that himself. You can still remember the look he was giving you both as you whispered giddily beside him at the table, Kaveh even loudly joked that if you ever needed an ear to talk about how annoying Alhaitham was, he'd gladly lend his.
A statement that had earned him not only a scoff from your boyfriend, but also a laugh from you.
And to your surprise, that very same Scribe even lasted until the end of the night before opting to see you both home– (like you weren't all going to the same place anyway).
But because of these moments, the rest of your friendship continued as such, you were comfortable around each other and that was the most important part. It was something you cherished quite deeply to yourself actually, and you were glad to have built such a relationship with someone who was so close to Alhaitham.
But that’s exactly why you worry about Kaveh, especially as you look at him now. You’d arrived at their house this morning – having made plans at the beginning of the week to spend the night with your boyfriend, ultimately deciding on a low-key sort of date night when he was relieved from his duties as Scribe.
You hadn’t dressed up too much, opting for a simple, plain dress given the humidity that often settled in Sumeru around this time of day and your want to be cute but still comfortable enough to rest in Alhaitham’s house for the night. Actually, you hadn’t even expected your boyfriend’s roommate to be home at all, assuming he’d be out in the desert on a job that he’s been dealing with the last few days.
But it seems that job hasn’t even gotten that far yet.
There's an endless amount of blueprints spread out across the coffee table in Alhaitham's living room and you can tell by the tired look on Kaveh's features that he's probably been staring at them for a while. He often got like this, overworking himself to death on projects and stretching himself quite thin just so he can earn himself a smile from a client.
And as much as you loved that part of him, the selfless and adorable part, you can't help but find yourself worrying. Even just looking at him now makes you bury yourself into Alhaitham's chest a little more from where you’re resting next to him on the couch. His arm is resting quite snugly around your waist and he seems to pick up on the inner workings of your brain quite quickly as he lets his gaze drop to you.
You share a look before he’s looking back at his roommate to ask.
"And just when was the last time you had a break, might I ask?" Your boyfriend speaks flatly, although you can hear the way the question is laced with subtle concern.
"Ugh, I don't know, a few hours ago, maybe. I— I don't have time for this, Alhaitham. I still have designs to finish. Why do you ask?" Kaveh’s voice strains, most likely from a mixture of fatigue and not having used it in a while. His fuse was shorter than usual when he got like this– so it was quite easy for Alhaitham to rile him up, though judging by his expression, that is probably the last thing he needs right now.
But then you feel your boyfriend shrug, and you can almost predict what’s coming. "No reason, we were just hoping to spend some time together is all and you seem to be taking up most of the living room."
It’s not that Alhaitham did it deliberately— his manner of speech was just more matter-a-fact, he always preferred to speak factually and didn’t particularly like to lace his words with rhetoric just to make someone feel better. And as it stands now, Kaveh is in the middle of what is supposed to be your date night. So why wouldn’t he say that?
Maybe that’s exactly what makes something in his roommate’s exterior crack. The blonde scoffs, “Do you really need to rub it in, Alhaitham? Can't you at least show a little respect for your senior? I’d kill to be able to enjoy a day off from my work but some of us don’t just organise files for a living.” He’s looking at you both now from where you rest at the other side of the room, and despite the blonde’s frustration, Alhaitham remains quite unbothered.
“Jealous are we now, Kaveh? You get wound up by some things so easily.” He teases, amusement evident in the way his lips seem to curl around his words and you feel his arm squeeze around your waist a little tighter. “I do wonder where all of that frustration comes from. Pent up perhaps?”
Another scoff from across the room, and you feel like you can’t turn your head fast enough to keep up, “Oh please, you wouldn’t know the first thing about anything like that. Haven't you only had one relationship, you... you don’t understand anything!" Kaveh runs his hands through his hair and you can’t help but send him a sympathetic look when he looks at you, although only for a moment as Alhaitham’s readies his quip.
“Oh, are you claiming that you have much more experience, Kaveh? Or would you prefer I started rhyming the facts?” You feel your boyfriend push himself up a little straighter on the couch as he remains holding you, "Like how long it’s been since the last time you had a date to accompany you to the Tavern, or anywhere for that matter."
"What's your deal? I don't have any trouble getting dates, Uh... I've just been busy trying to catch up on my work. I'd be much more suited to being a boyfriend than you anyway, I'm much more experienced."
"Oh really?" There’s a breath of silence when Alhaitham responds this time, like Kaveh’s mind is only just catching up to what his mouth is spouting, though it’s not fast enough for it to stop him as he flippantly twists his wrist in the air. As if shrugging off Alhaitham’s disbelieving tone.
"Absolutely. I can only pity a man that doesn't understand the first thing about intimacy and romance." He responds quite confidently this time, as if he’s completely sure about what he’s saying. But you can feel the response Alhaitham’s body has to his words before he voices it himself. It’s like there’s something akin to amusement, or curiosity in his sudden body language.
But not even as subtle of a hint could prepare you for what he actually says.
"If that's the case then, go right ahead. If you're so confident in your abilities, feel free to demonstrate." Alhaitham outstretches his hand around you as if giving Kaveh the floor, and that earns him a raised brow from the blonde across the room— followed by a confused look from you aswell. Though you allow his roommate to voice that for you both,
"Hmph, what's that supposed to mean?" Kaveh asks, but you both share a look that lasts too long for it not to be deliberate before Alhaitham can answer.
"Well, you both get along quite well, don't you? If you think you're much better suited for my position, we can prove that right now." Despite the implication of his words, Alhaitham seems to look as unbothered by this conversation as always. Which in turn only leaves the both of you, gaping and glancing between him and each other before you turn your whole body around to face your boyfriend. You almost manage a What? But then Kaveh cuts you off—
"T-this isn't funny, Alhaitham. I'm not in the mood for your pranks." Though if you were to turn back around you’d notice the way he seems to have taken a more flushed sort of shade. He buries his head in his hands as if in an attempt to hide that, but that’s an impossible feat when it comes to Alhaitham.
Who turns his gaze back to you despite the way he responds to Kaveh, "Going through all of this trouble for a prank sounds like a real headache." His words are followed by his hand coming up to softly graze along your cheek, and you would think he just answered all of your questions with a single movement with the way you lean into it. But then he speaks again, smiling subtly "I'd even argue that she seems quite eager to help you relax a bit, and judging by the look on your face, you don't seem opposed to that idea either.”
You find yourself feeling incredibly flustered for a moment as you whip your head back around to look at Kaveh again, noticing the way he immediately looks away as soon as your eyes meet. You can’t say you’ve never thought about him in that sort of light— you’d be a fool to try and deny that he wasn’t gorgeous. Tanned skin, blonde hair— his eyes were like rubies almost, his body lean and well cut.
Looking at him now makes you suck your lower lip between your teeth and you can feel the way your boyfriend’s watching you as you fidget slightly to rub your thighs together, as if to quell the sudden heat that you can feel growing between them. But you feel his hand come to rest on your waist a moment later and he finally urges you to chime into the conversation with a “Well?”
It’s not like Alhaitham’s insecure in your relationship either, he’s more than confident in the pleasure he’s able to pull from you and the amount of times he’s had you spread out beneath him account for that. But still, he’ll only go as far as you’re comfortable with— so if you decide against it, he’ll gladly kick his roommate out of his home so that he can see to whatever needs you have himself.
And that reassurance alone makes you smile as you look up at him.
"I don't mind, Kaveh. If... if something like that will make you feel better then." You look back towards Kaveh next, who’s already looking at you and you don’t know if he’s gawking or half expecting you both to start laughing. Maybe both at once as his eyes widen at you now, "I don't mind you using me for it. We're friends, right?"
Right— Friends.
Kaveh swallows, and then he quickly pushes himself to stand and for the first time since you’ve met— you feel like you can’t meet his gaze as he takes his first careful step closer to you. It was quite unlike him to be so quiet, and maybe that’s what makes it all worse. You’re still resting quite comfily in Alhaitham’s lap, and even if you were to try to move— you’re not sure he’d let you with how tight his arm seems to be resting around your waist.
So you wait there, until the architect’s soft footsteps bring him to stand opposite the both of you and Alhaitham helps you this time as you turn around to face him— until you’re resting your back up against your boyfriend's chest and feel him spread his thighs to make room for you between them.
There’s another beat of silence before he finally speaks again,
"Did he put you up to this?" Kaveh takes an uneven breath as he asks, motioning to Alhaitham behind you and despite the way he tries to laugh with his question, the undercurrent of nervousness seems to make it come out as more of a sigh.
You shake your head, remaining quiet despite the way your arousal is making you warm and the blonde’s sudden close proximity isn’t doing anything to help that either. Your thoughts have taken the potential scenario and already begun running with it, and you’re sure your boyfriend is already beginning to pick up on your growing impatience when he squeezes his arm around you.
"You're doing this on purpose, aren't you, Alhaitham? Just how close are you going to let me get before you make fun of me?" Kaveh asks again as his pretty features pull into another frown, but he still doesn’t seem to put any distance between you both.
Alhaitham picks up on that too as he responds to his taunt quite neutrally, "I don't know what you mean, I'm not stopping you. After all, weren't you the one who said you were better suited for my position?"
The silence settles over the three of you again with Alhaitham’s question and you watch the way Kaveh seems to drop his gaze to think, as if he’s going over the proposal in his mind a million times before coming to a decision. But then his gaze lifts to look at you,
"Hmph, I didn't mean it like this." He mumbles, but then he takes a deep breath and his shoulders seem to relax a bit. "Whatever."
Kaveh takes another half a step closer, as his eyes hold you there — and the pretty colour of them makes you rock back into Alhaitham despite the way it makes something in your stomach stir. His voice drops to something softer, gentle when he addresses you, as it always does. "Are you, um... okay with this? You don't have to do this just because Alhaitham said so."
His question makes you smile as you blink back at him, allowing yourself the moment to admire the intricacies of his features while he's leaning in to look at you closely. Kaveh has always been gorgeous, kind but even now — you can’t help but appreciate the sort of person he really was, and you’re glad that someone like him is who Alhaitham chooses to surround himself with.
You offer him a reassuring nod as you let yourself rock back against your boyfriend's chest a little more, "I'm okay with it."
“Fine then.” And with that, Kaveh eventually relents before he’s letting his figure fall to his knees, bringing himself to be just below level with you, and you feel the way the movement makes your boyfriend exhale a breath along your shoulder. It makes you shudder as you find yourself almost instinctively spreading your thighs to make room for him, and it’s hard for the architect to not let his eyes immediately drop to the skin that’s between them when you reach forward to bunch up your dress.
“Ready?” Alhaitham asks you, as if he’s giving you another opportunity to back out when his palm comes to rest on the inside of your thigh from behind. His fingers tap as you take a breath, and his roommate opposite you stills until you’re able to stutter out a response.
“Yes, I’m ready.” You answer, and your boyfriend’s hand pulls at your inner thigh in that same moment, until you’re spread out on his lap and positioning your thighs to rest over the top of his. You feel immediately exposed as you feel the cool air roll over your too warm skin— it’s like you’re being served up on a grand table like a meal, and there’s something in Kaveh’s gaze that seems to feel the same way as you watch the tips of his ears begin to flush.
But still, he’s looking at you like he’s a man who's been starved for years and he’s about to have his first, real taste of good food again.
There’s a moment of silence between the three of you as Alhaitham holds you close, but it’s only for a moment before Kaveh’s palm comes to rest on the opposite thigh to push — helping to hold you open. You feel yourself begin to burn at the way it makes your arousal spark beneath your skin, and you’re feeling particularly flustered already as you watch the way the architect admires the damp spot in your panties.
Kaveh takes another breath, and then he shuffles himself closer from where he’s resting on his knees. “If you’re sure about this. Well…” There’s still a hesitance to his words, but it seems to break off into something quieter, needier when his fingers squeeze into your skin. “Friends, right?”
You stiffen as you watch your boyfriend’s roommate lean forward, but you soften almost immediately when you feel him press a quick kiss against your clothed pussy, exhaling against the warm press of the intimate skin like it’s the first breath he’s taken in days.
But the sound that leaves you is almost humiliating when he pushes even deeper into you next, letting his tongue tease along the damp fabric of your underwear and pressing into the swollen bump of your clit, all while Alhaitham holds you in place for him on his lap. Your thighs and hips quake, as do your lungs when you try to manage a staggered inhale— but you feel like you can barely breathe beneath Kaveh’s movements, feeling the way he’s drinking you up, tongue rolling and curling through your folds so expertly you wouldn't believe there was still a layer between you both.
You’d never imagined Kaveh would feel like this, not that it was something you imagined often — but it still came as quite a surprise. It’s true you’d never seen him date much at all, nevermind heard him even mention prior intimate experiences— but with the way he’s working you right now, you can barely believe he’s even single at all.
You're jolted from your thoughts by a particularly wet smear of Kaveh’s mouth against you until you feel yourself trembling, and Alhaitham knows you’re already close as he curls himself around you from behind. The movement lets you feel the heavy press of his half-hard cock against your lower back, closely followed by the smear of his lips along the shell of your ear. “Any thoughts? Seems like you’re getting quite worked up.” He sighs, deliberately along the sensitive parts of you.
Your boyfriend’s words take on a familiar, teasing drawl— it’s one he’s used on you before, normally when he’s got you buried beneath him on the mattress or just about creaming around the press of three of his fingers, but the tone makes you swallow as you try to turn your head to look at him.
Though the call is quickly cut off by Kaveh’s voice as he mutters up at you both from between your thighs, “Oh, would you butt out, Alhaitham.” The sound quivers through your pussy, like a pleasurable vibration that makes your head drop back to moan and your body jolt as you meet the blonde’s gaze for a moment. He’s flushed to his chest and his hair is mused from his efforts, but you think he looks like something out of a wet dream when the lower half of his face and cheeks are already slick with his own spit and your arousal.
You wonder if he notices the way it makes you even wetter,
“And why would I do that?” Alhaitham cuts off your eye contact with his response, and he deliberately rocks himself into you— pushing more of his roommate’s mouth even deeper between your thighs until you both moan. Though it’s closely followed by the press of Kaveh’s fingertips hooking beneath the fabric of your underwear, before he begins to finally provide you with some relief and pull them to the side.
Your arousal makes you glisten, clinging to the soaked fabric as it's pulled out of his way and it’s quite clear to see the almost proud look on Kaveh’s features as he admires it, then looks up at your boyfriend a moment later.
“See!? I told you.” He almost glows from where he’s still kneeling between your spread thighs, “Take a good look, Alhaitham.” And if you weren’t in such a state you think you’d end up giggling— if not at the blonde’s amusement then definitely at Alhaitham’s deliberate silence in response to it. But your boyfriend doesn’t seem bothered by it at all, in fact he just opts to leave the spread of your thighs to his roommate as he frees up both of his hands instead.
“You seem more surprised than I am.” He eventually opts to say with a hint of sarcasm, well-timed with the way Kaveh’s tongue finally presses back against the now exposed skin of your folds, cutting through the glistening petals as he suckles and smacks at the mess. And you can’t help but arch back into Alhaitham at the movement, an opportunity which he seizes quite eagerly to grab and palm at your breasts as he takes one into his hand slowly. His movements are precise, twisting and flicking at the raised skin of your nipples through your dress until you’re whimpering so greedily for something more.
Lucky for him, you hadn’t opted for a bra today. After all— you were just having a date indoors.
“Better?” Alhaitham breathes against your jawline as he touches you, and you feel the way his teasing question makes Kaveh grumble between your folds, like he’s claiming you needed his touch to feel such pleasure.
But before the blonde can even pipe up and complain about it, your boyfriend’s free hand reaches forward to wrap itself in his roommate’s already tousled hair, and he uses it as leverage to bury him even deeper into your pussy. He turns his attention to him for a moment as he sends him a narrowed look and a whisper of a smirk, and you think the expression on Kaveh’s face as he blinks up at you both makes you begin to throb, “You seem to be putting that mouth to much better use now than you were a moment ago, Kaveh.”
You can feel yourself growing closer, and that alone urges you to turn to meet Alhaitham as you find your hands grabbing to scratch at his muscled forearm. It’s a movement he goes unaffected by, long fingers seemingly unphased by your hands as they clasp gently around one of your nipples before he pulls, and the spark of your orgasm is so close you feel lightheaded. At the same time, Kaveh is going between circling his tongue around your clit and pressing it in and out of your cunt, groaning at the way he can feel your walls squeeze and tremble around the muscle, but also at the way your body squelches as he slurps at the slick his movements seem to press out.
He’s so close up against you, he can barely breathe as Alhaitham holds him there— but he still can’t help but only want to press even deeper as he drinks in your reactions, swallowing loudly as he feels his own cock begin to leak precum against his clothes.
Your lips part to moan, but it’s covered up quite quickly by the sudden press of Alhaitham’s lips against yours, urging you to murmur out his name as he kisses you, messy and driven by the way Kaveh’s mouth is wrapped around you all while he watches. The realisation of all of it makes you feel terribly overwhelmed, and you can feel your boyfriend press more of his clothed cock against your lower back as he licks into your mouth.
“I’m gonna cum.” You try to manage against the heat of the kiss and the movement of Kaveh’s mouth against your cunt, shaking into your boyfriend’s chest before he opts to pull away to admire you. Your chest is rising and falling with every shaky breath you’re struggling to take, and it’s all made so much worse when you feel Kaveh close his mouth around your clit to suckle.
Though it’s only for one, too short moment— seconds from your orgasm, before the hand in his blonde hair is tightening just enough to urge him off of you with a wet pop.
“Anddd, I think we’ve seen more than enough now.” Alhaitham hums from where he rests behind you and it’s almost immediately that you watch Kaveh’s blown features pull into a pretty, flushed frown. The expression he’s wearing makes you whimper a bit, kicking out your feet at the loss of not only your orgasm, but the warmth of his mouth as you feel your boyfriend’s arm snake it’s way back around your waist.
“Are you kidding me, Alhaitham?” Kaveh grumbles exasperatedly, “You’re just being selfish.” It’s quite obvious that he was enjoying himself as much as you seemed to be. But maybe that's the exact reason that Alhaitham’s taking great satisfaction in teasing him like this,
“How am I to blame for your shortcomings, might I ask, Kaveh?” He taunts the blonde before you, who’s furiously trying to readjust his shirt from where it’s tousled over his chest slightly — revealing more of the tanned, smooth muscle as you shamelessly let your eyes trace the valleys of his skin. “Afterall, I gave you more than an ample amount of time to get the job done.”
Alhaitham’s words are again matter-a-fact, but they mostly come from a place of knowing (given the right technique) how quickly he could make you cum himself. Yet here you are, still wound up and needy, and he think’s that's more of a fault on Kaveh’s part that anyone else's. So he waves his hand at his roommate again as the blonde gives him another sharp look from his knees, “Yet you still came up short. Seems I'm not the one to blame after all.”
And maybe it’s his own arousal that makes him barely able to argue back as he only stutters out a strained, “You—“
But then your voice calls suddenly, and the silence that falls over the two men on opposite sides of you almost makes you shake. “Haitham?”
"Yes?" Alhaitham answers to you intently as he turns his head towards you again, meeting your gaze from over your shoulder as you watch the way his features seem to almost immediately soften. It makes you shimmy yourself a little closer before you’re bringing up one of your hands to cover your mouth and whispering something ineligible from where Kaveh is kneeling, like you’re leaving him out of a secret exchange.
It makes him grumble to himself as he watches you both, and if he wasn’t so painfully hard and sweating profusely in his clothes right now, he’d leave you both to it. But for some reason, he can’t find it in himself to look away from you either.
It’s like he can see why your boyfriend dotes over you so much.
Kaveh watches the way Alhaitham listens carefully to whatever you’re whispering to him, smoothing his fingers along your skin from where they rest against your body while you speak, and holding you close in a way that almost makes something beneath his own skin sting. Another moment, and you pull away again to share a look but with the next, Alhaitham kisses you.
It’s a different sort of kiss to the one’s he’s seen you both share before; it’s messier, deeper — possessive in a way, like Alhaitham’s staking his claim over you and it seems almost uncharacteristic of his usual lax attitude. But Kaveh watches the way you curl into the warmth of his roommate’s lips and body, watches you twist in his lap so he can curl you closer with his strength and you let out a little whine as you both breathe deeply into the other's lips.
He can almost see the way your tongue’s are pressing up against each other between your breaths, something so consuming, suffocatingly passionate and heated that it makes him feel suddenly too warm beneath his own shirt again and he has to ground himself with an exhale. The sight makes him swallow loudly and he almost reaches to press his palm into the bulge of his cock— to quell the insistent throb that seems to be settling there despite how it may look. But before he can— Alhaitham opens his eyes to look at him, with a narrowed sort of sharp look before the kiss is breaking wet and he’s following it up with a quick peck against your swollen lips and a shrug, “I guess that’s fine.”
And then you’re suddenly turning yourself back around to face Kaveh again, a little more dazed and kiss drunk this time.
Your finger points softly to the noticeable tent in his pants, but you don’t make him feel self conscious when your lips part, muttering. "Kaveh, you can... take it out if you want."
But Kaveh can barely get his words out fast enough to respond, "Wha.... really? You're sure?" You nod at his question, and he gives Alhaitham a look before he watches the Scribe turn away to look at you instead. Like he’s deciding it’s best for him not to chime in, but opting to not stop him either as he pushes himself back up to his feet.
He feels unsteady as he stands, blame it on the fact that most of the blood in his body has rushed to his cock right now, or the way he’s lightheaded from his own arousal. But he tries to take his time as he strips back the layers of his outfit, not wanting to seem too eager until he’s able to push down his pants, and he lets himself gasp at the first sting of sexual freedom the release gives him.
His cock is as gorgeous as you would expect, tanned shaft and a dark pink tip— paired perfectly with the blonde hair that gathers at the base and a few freckles and veins decorating along the length of him. He isn’t as thick as Alhaitham is, but he has an upwards tilt to him that almost makes you drool, pre-cum already gathering at the tip as it glistens in the dim lighting of the living room.
Kaveh feels himself flush beneath your attention as you watch him, wriggling in Alhaitham’s lap like you’re excited about it. But your boyfriend’s gaze is still on the side of your face, and he’s busying himself with stroking his fingertips up and down the length of your arm instead. It’s quite suspicious for him to be so quiet, but the blonde decides not to question it as he brings himself to stand closer to you again.
His fingertips brush against your thighs as he reaches out to touch you once more, trembling slightly as he allows himself to take a proper look between both you and then the slick petals of your pussy that await him.
Like you, Kaveh would be lying if he said he hadn’t thought about you like this before. Afterall, he’s heard the sweet sounds that his roommate is able to pull from you behind the privacy of his bedroom door; the way your voice lilts into something prettier when you cum and that sweet little dazed look you always seemed to wear whenever you’d pad out of the room an hour or so later.
He’s not sure what he’d call it— admiration, amusement, jealousy? It’s hard for him to decide on an answer, and he’s not given enough time to either when Alhaitham suddenly clears his throat. His green eyes are giving him a look from where he seems to have dazed off staring at you, and the realisation makes Kaveh clear his own throat before he’s taking a slow fistful of his cock— opting to smile down at you instead before he’s lining himself up against your cunt.
“Well then, I guess this is happening. Are you ready?” His words waver as the blunt head strokes softly along your folds, and he’s watching the way even the slightest touch seems to make his cock glisten. You already feel soft as silk and even that small bout of friction makes his knees threaten to buckle completely as he tries to steady himself with a breath.
You give him a pretty look and a nod, but before Kaveh can finally sink himself into you, Alhaitham cuts him off—
"Whoa whoa whoa, let's not get too ahead of ourselves, shall we?" The Scribe’s voice calls from behind you as he hooks his chin over top of your shoulder, narrowing his gaze up at his blonde roommate while he gapes and frowns back down at him now. But you listen to him, shimmying yourself down a little lower until you’re spreading your thighs a little more and the shaft of Kaveh’s cock rests between the folds of your pussy this time.
Alhaitham hums like he’s happy with that, "Just like that is fine."
“Fine. Whatever you say, Alhaitham.” Kaveh’s in no position to argue with what he’s giving him after all, he’s been generous enough to let him do this to begin with. So he swallows before readjusting himself again, and he grounds his body by grabbing gently at your thighs to keep you spread.
You’re already soaked as he presses his cock up against you, rubbing it along your slick folds and leaning enough of his weight onto you that it only presses you even closer into Alhaitham’s chest. The first silky grind of the length of him splits through you before catching on your clit, making you both gasp and moan at the wet tacky sound that follows and Kaveh has to take a breath for a moment as he squeezes his eyes closed. Trying not to cum too soon.
But it seems your audience isn’t going to let him away with that so easily.
"Need some help?" Alhaitham goads from where he’s back to stroking at your skin, fingertips dancing up the valley of your ribs and cupping at your tits as he gives Kaveh a taunting sort of look.
It makes him scoff, "N... no! I was just giving her a break, that's all!" Though he’s not sure how convincing he sounds when his voice breaks slightly— weighed down beneath his own arousal and the throb in his cock.
It makes Alhaitham scoff, "How kind of you. There's no rush afterall."
"I know that! It's called empathy Alhaitham, you should try having some!" Kaveh’s voice raises unsteadily, but the frown on his features doesn’t seem to hold much malice when he’s so flushed and stricken with pleasure.
"Actually I think my generosity right now far makes up for that." Alhaitham gives him a narrowed, lidded look before he presses his head into you, and that seems to be enough to end the argument when Kaveh breaks away from his gaze. He looks at you instead when your legs curl up around his waist, pulling him closer as he pushes the shaft of his cock even tighter up against the warm press of your folds– and he feels them wrap around him so invitingly it makes his hips jerk.
Kaveh opts to lean over you this time as he presses his palm into the plush back of the sofa, sandwiching you between him and Alhaitham as he allows himself to be pulled even deeper into the desperate hug of your cunt. You’re already whining when he draws his hips back, a languid and slow movement that makes you almost cry out when he rolls them back into you again a second later— desperately rubbing your slick along his throbbing cock as he tries hard to meet your gaze.
But Alhaitham seems to be stealing all of your attention away for himself as he presses ticklish kisses up the column of your throat from behind, hugging himself into you from where he’s letting his best friend rub his cock between your legs. All while you sit on your boyfriend’s lap.
So he opts to meet Kaveh’s gaze instead, and he looks almost smug when he does.
"Are you really just going to tease me while you watch, Alhaitham?" The blonde over you trembles as he lets his cock glide through your folds again, letting himself hump against you as each withdrawal of his hips makes a loud, wet sound. It’s hard to take him seriously as he coats his shaft in a mess of your slick and his spit, but it still feels like the Scribe is teasing him by not letting him really feel the tight squeeze of your walls.
He just shrugs again. "Actually, I have something far more important to attend to.” And Kaveh has to watch as he takes another slow handful of your tits through your dress, back to swiping his thumb across the pebbled press of your nipples until it almost makes you shake. It’s Alhaitham’s name you moan when your lips part, and he can see the smug little smile on his lips when he hears it. "Though if I'm not mistaken, it seems your pity from earlier was misplaced. Since someone seems to quite enjoy my understanding of intimacy and romance."
Alhaitham leans in a bit closer as he lets his voice, lips and teeth tease along the shell of your ear. But his gaze holds Kaveh’s as he palms at you– groping at your tits as his thumb circles the fabric of your dress again. “So feel free to apologise whenever you’re ready.”
That makes his blonde roommate scoff before he’s suddenly picking up the pace of his hips, like he’s got a point to prove as he mutters out a response, "Oh please, I didn't think it would end up l-like this, did I."
But Kaveh isn't an idiot, he can feel the way Alhaitham’s movements are only making you wetter and urging you to pull him even closer with every grope of his hands as your heels dig into his lower back— so despite his pride, he opts to give in… if only for your sake. "Keep doing that to her." He watches your body rise up into your boyfriend’s palms, long fingers pressing around your nipples to squeeze and he feels the way it makes you shudder.
“Oh? So you do need my help afterall.” Alhaitham chuckles, but the feeling of your pussy against Kaveh’s cock is so hot and aching, he doesn’t care. It feels like he’s burning up in the best way, and his roommate can see that quite clearly too as he relents. “Well, you only had to ask, Kaveh.”
“S-shutup, It’s for her sake, alright?” He lets himself rut into you harder as Alhaitham’s touch steadies you, he can feel you getting wetter beneath him with every thrust of his cock through your folds and for the first time when he turns to look at you, you meet him with your own blown gaze as you stir beneath him.
“It feels good, Kaveh.” Your words break into a whisper, and the tone you say his name in makes his pace stutter almost dangerously as he feels your clit graze along the sensitive underside of his cock, making him to press into you harder. Kaveh’s burning up, he feels like he can barely breathe— even as his roommate watches him hump his cock against his girlfriend’s cunt— he doesn’t care, you feel too good. He’s making a mess of the space between your thighs as his cock desperately drools precum along your skin, but it only helps to further ease his movements as he rubs himself up against you.
“You seem to be enjoying yourself, Kaveh.” Alhaitham huffs, but then he grunts with the next particularly sharp thrust of Kaveh’s hips and it makes you purr. Afterall, how could anyone be able to resist the feeling of your ass constantly grinding up against the press of the hard cock behind you. It’s simply natural for him to be close himself despite the way he’s barely been touched— but he’s far too preoccupied playing with you to care anyway, and it was to be expected that his girlfriend could get him into such a state.
Kaveh gives him a sharp look at his words, but he can’t argue back at all when he feels goosebumps begin to burst along his skin.
Then you gasp, head lolling back against Alhaitham’s shoulder as he rolls at your tits and the next eager press of Kaveh’s shaft against your folds makes you stiffen— legs squeezing tight around his waist as the blonde grits his teeth. “Kaveh, you’re gonna make me cum!”
And your voice breaks into something beautiful as you do, shaking between the two men that hold you and it’s closely followed by another groan from Alhaitham behind you as he gives into his own orgasm– making a mess of his slacks as he ruts his hips up into your ass. The stuttered movement seems to angle your hips up a bit more than planned, but it’s just enough for Kaveh to accidentally slip the tip of his cock inside of you— making you both gasp as you squeeze and cream around the head of his cock, and he treats himself with a short thrust deeper before he’s barely able to pull back in time.
“Just… Just, Ugh—” He’s already mourning the tease of your warm walls trembling around him before his hips jerk, and Kaveh cums with a tight lipped moan of your name as his load lands messily across your skin, painting your body in his seed as his own crumbles beneath the weight of his orgasm. It’s dizzying, how pretty you look beneath him— fluttering lashes and parted lips as more of your cream catches on the shaft of his cock and he presses up against you in a way that makes the blonde sway as he rides out his high.
He feels completely wrecked when he finds it in himself to stumble away from you both, and you give him a cute, satisfied look before curling your way back into Alhaitham— who’s looking equally as wrecked with the now soiled fabric in his slacks bothering him. Kaveh watches the way the stickiness makes him fidget.
The three of you let the silence rest for a while longer as you catch your breath, and your boyfriend moves to pull your underwear back into place before pushing back down the fabric of your dress and pulling you deeper into his chest. It urges you to rest your head into the crook of his neck as you turn to face him, and you share a quick kiss as Kaveh begins to straighten out his clothes again, unable to break his gaze away from you as he does.
Alhaitham is the first to speak as he urges his roommate to look away from you.
“Hm, dare I say I’m actually impressed, Kaveh. Seems whatever you were spouting earlier wasn’t just empty rhetoric afterall.” His voice scratches slightly as he addresses him, no doubt still coming down from his own still lingering pleasure.
But the blonde only just finishes smoothing down his shirt before the compliment makes him freeze in disbelief, “Wha? Really?”
“Oh? You sound surprised.”
Kaveh barely manages one of his prettier frowns to respond again, “Maybe it’s because you’ve never said anything good about me before. So excuse me for feeling like you don’t really mean that.” But he does find it in himself to scoff this time, watching you fidget against your boyfriend’s chest before you’re cracking an eye open to look at him– and he’s pretty sure he can see you smiling as they bicker back and forth.
“And what makes you think I’m not just speaking on someone else’s behalf?” Alhaitham quips back, motioning towards you in his arms and if Kaveh wasn’t still coming down from his orgasm, he’d put up more of a fight than he is right now as he pulls up his pants again. Hissing as he tucks his now softening cock back behind the fabric.
“Are we forgetting I’m your senior? You really should show me a little respect, Alhaitham. A compliment won’t kill you.” The blonde scoffs as he runs a trembling hand through his hair, grumbling when he takes in the mess of the braid, but before Alhaitham can respond back again— you’re making your first attempt to move. Your boyfriend is quick to grab your hand to steady you as he helps you stand but because of who Kaveh is— he can’t help but want to reach out too.
“Hey, do you need me to help clean you up?” He asks kindly, taking in the damp spots on your dress that are most likely due to being soiled in his cum.
But Alhaitham only lures you back against his chest when he stands up behind you, beginning to guide you in the general direction of the bathroom as he finds his own now soiled slacks to be quite uncomfortable themselves. “I think I can handle that part on my own, Kaveh.” He opts to answer in your stead, but you still manage to give the blonde a sleepy, hormone-drunken smile before you’re taking unsteady little steps to follow your boyfriend down the hall.
Kaveh watches you both leave before Alhaitham turns to look at him again, his voice taking a more sincere tone than it has all day.
“But it’s nice to know you’re feeling more relaxed. So feel free to actually get some rest for once.”
wanting attention is not a bad thing. wanting people to care about you is not selfish. it’s okay to want people to listen to you. you don’t need to do anything to deserve love. love is not a finite resource; we hold enough of it in our hearts to love each other every single day of the year. you deserve to be loved every single day of the year. don’t forget that.
Pairings. [SEPARATE] Higuruma x Reader, Gojo x Reader, Ino x Reader, Sukuna x Reader, Choso x Reader, Geto x Reader, Nanami x Reader, Toji x Reader
Content. MDNI, fem! reader, cóndom breaks, creampíes, unprotected, PÚSSYDRÚNK MEN, size kínks, full neIson, making it fit, biiig stretches, maIe squírting, cúmplay, HEADLOCKS, making them BEG, manhandIing, dúmbifícation, chokíng, ínappropríate use of jujutsu, first times (Choso, Ino), true form Sukuna, dp, marathons, overstím, slight bréeding, pet names, swéaring.
A/N. Hope you have a lovely week <3
♡ TOJI FUSHIGURO - The stubborn
Your ruthless hips were riding at a sloppy, sensual tempo enough to make the big, bad Toji Fushiguro squirm. Pap after pap enough to make him claw his calloused fingertips into your waist, enough to make him whine–
“Tch- y-your hips.” Gritting his gleaming white canines in a snarl to unsuccessfully hide the way you’d made him stutter, Toji hiccups with every one of your bounces. “Oh my god, your hips, doll- they make me wanna–”
He was struggling. Jaw ticking, mossy eyes narrowed. And you can feel his heavy, stirrin’ red tip twitch inside of you once you lean closer to hear his quieting baritone. “…i-inside.”
“Hmmm– what’s that?” You cup your ear teasingly, “Didn’t hear y- oh!”
And you seriously didn’t think that he wouldn’t bite back, did you? Superhuman reflexes gripping your hips to slam you down once, so hard n’ fast that it makes you keen, groaning only one word—“Inside.”
He wasn’t just begging anymore - he was aching for it.
The meaty mounds of his thighs twitching after every passing second that he wasn’t filling you up, Toji’s chewing down on the inside of his cheek to stop himself from leaking with all those syrupy wads of saliva threatening to depart.
Even more once you’re blinking away the sting of his toned v-line hitting the cheeks of your ass, swervin’ in a wiiiide figure-eight that makes the man below you hiss. “Say ‘please.’”
It’s been like this for far too long now.
Fuck, Toji knows this what he gets - he knows he shouldn’t have mocked your cute, needy self for always wanting to be filled up with all his thick ounces. And now you were brutally torturing him with your clingy wet pussy until he regretted it.
“P-please.” It’s wrenched from the very back of his throat, coated with a primal thickness that makes you shudder. In sultry synchronization with the creaking of the bedsprings as he bucks– “Please- I said it- okay? Inside- hafta cum inside- wanna- need to.”
The last few strings of his rationality snaps as long raven lashes glaze over with a thin film of tears, scarred lips wobbling once you’re giving his ravaged shaft a clench.
He’s so big and achingly stuffed inside of you that you can’t even breathe without feeling the mushy swivels he’s planting all the way in your lungs. You watch his broad pecs simmer with hot, desperate perspiration as he moans. Hazy peripherals half-lidding, “Please let me cum inside you, mama?”
And he’s so sexy like this - shaggy black bangs sticking to his face until he’d almost curtained his greedy gaze, mouth trickling with thin lines of drool, cock ruining you - that you almost give in.
Almost.
“Well, maybe if you say ‘pretty pl-’”
That’s just when Toji gives in, too.
Snaps.
And if you thought that his impatient rut earlier was rude, then you weren’t prepared for the way that he’s starting up a pace that fucks you silly.
Plump, puckered lips drooping languidly ajar as he watched his glistening cock pump deeper into your pussy, breath hitching as if he hadn’t even realized he was milking himself on you. Toji gropes a handful of your right asscheek and helps manhandle you up n’ down like a doll.
Rough. Rugged.
He’s searching for your sweetest spots so accurately that even the slightest brush of his puffy, wide veins leave you dizzy. Weepy divot striking your g-spot hard–
“Fuck- fuck!” Your mind’s being so muddled after every punctuating thrust that you almost don’t notice the way that Toji’s grouchy, deep tone breaks. Cracks, “Driving me fuckin’ crazy with this pretty pussy- fucking mad.”
You’re whimpering, one of Toji’s meaty forearms coming to slouch himself partially upright on the bed and listen closer to every sticky plap! No longer solely riding him - he was drilling into you like he was addicted.
Grunting, “Look at you- look at you.”
“Wh-whaaat–?” You sniffle, chin hitting your chest once turn to where he was staaaaring. Dead-on. Where your saturated pussylips were pried apart until you could see every swollen inch he was pushin’ in, the reddened split-end of his crownhead peeking out before each nudge into your favorite spots.
Rolling his eyes, Toji pitches his voice just a few octaves higher into one that definitively does not sound like you. “‘Wh-wh-what?’ she says.”
Dark brows furrowing, a thin line of sweat traces down either side of his temples as he surges into you so hard that the skin ‘round his pelvis reddens. Right hand leaving half-moon crescent nail marks on your hips, “Yer a reeeeal mean girl, y’know?” He huffs and puffs, palm pressing at the base of your spine to get you to gyrate your hips. He’s fully taken over now - cocky. “Drooling all over me like that n’ n-not expecting me to make a mess, too.”
Batting your heavy eyelids, it takes you a few seconds to actually rover your fingertips over the gleaming wet glaze that was drivelling all down Toji’s tensed core.
From the soaked tufts of Stygian black at the base of his cock to the ridges of his abs, your slurping cunt was just spraying out your essence until he was basking in it.
He watches with a sleazy grin as you’re letting the slicked mess dangle from your digits, sticky.
“Yeah, look at that- look at you.” Words high-pitched n’ breathy, gone - with every nanosecond he’s sloppily planting three repeated slam-slam-slams on your spongy cervix, Toji’s falling apart. “Looking like th-that n’ teasing me and- and ohhh ya won’t be teasing me anymore when m’filling you up, doll.”
Truly, he was just so big and barreling inside of you that it was dissolving your poor brain cells- and right now you couldn’t even remember the incident that’d led to this in the first place. “F-filling?”
“Tha’s riiiight–” He’s grinning, “Gonna fill you up now- gonna fill up that pretty pussy until y-you won’t even hngh- remember what s’like without me inside. Gonna fuck you so full you won’t even be able to speak- to breathe.”
You’re flinching once the battle-worn index of his right hand scrapes a line straight from the treacly edge of your cunt - up, up, up past your tummy and all the way to your throat.
“-gonna fill ya up until right here, mama.”
And usually, Toji would never dare cum before he’d made you reach your high at least three times - wouldn’t even mention such a thing.
Usually.
But right now it’s so much, too much that he’s throwing his sweaty crown back into the silken pillows and squirting. You’d made Toji Fushiguro squirt - hard n’ rough, quickly filling you up with gooey sploshes of sap that all but fountains out of your puffy pussylips.
He feels like he’s about to pass out, like he can’t do anything but twitch his colliding hips into yours to plug you up to the very brim. Animalistic. Barely even there.
It’s so hefty and humid past your dripping entrance that you can feel your skin break out in perspiration, unstable voice coming out awed. “Toji- d-did you just-”
“Shut up.”
Fill you up alright - you were so stuffed right now that you barely even register it when he hooks his palm once more to your waist and flips the two of you over.
Dampened bangs of his sticking to your forehead, eyes almost shuttering, the chubby edge of his mushroomy tip pryin’ apart your gluey walls with a resounding squeeeelch once more.
“Wasteful girl-” One of his free hands skim the pale milky sheen formulated on your inner thighs, leaking. Hypnotized, he thrusts- “Said I wanted to c-cum inside you, not squirt. Buckle up, buttercup.”
♡ NANAMI KENTO - “W-will it fit?”
Will it fit. Will it fit-
It’s just about the only thing that your husband can think about right now as he’s dragging his rotund fingertips aaaaall over the soppy slit of your cunt, plugging back the thick droplets of cum that just kept on pouring from between.
But he’d be lying if he said that the notion didn’t make his plump, aching balls twitch—
“Pleeeease, Ken?” You’re jutting your lower lip out cutely into a pout, tugging aside your thoroughly drenched panties further n’ further to let Nanami’s half-opened eyes take it alllll in, in this lecherous full nelson. “Promise I can ngh- take one more.”
“B-but, my love-”
And yet, he can’t stop the way his traitorous hips are creeping back a few inches and ramming straight to his massive hilt. Opening your puffy hole so wide on his sheer circumference that it’s making you all stupidly dizzy.
“Your- your body- I don’t wanna hurt you and–” His long blond lashes sweep the edges of his cheekbones as he blinks blearily down at you, sensitivity making him tear up. “I don’t know if I even can anymore-”
Push after push he’s outlining your mushy walls trying to cream himself on you, wringing himself dry. Trying. Brain sparking as he tries to wrench out a few more ribbony droplets of saccharine sap.
You’re mewling, hips jerking back n’ forth with sensitivity once the cold metal of Nanami’s wristwatch scrapes your outer pussy. Pressing deeply into your heated flesh as he snags a few thick digits ‘round your lacy panties, to tug- “But-” and riiiiip it off before you know it. “-if my pretty wife asks…”
Anything you want is yours - including if you want to be stuffed so full to the brim of your soft, syrupy pussy until you can feel him in your damn lungs.
And that’s exactly what Nanami’s doing. Twisting the glazed remnants of that flimsy underwear around his right hand, choking your pretty neck with his left hand. He’s mazing his fattened, cherry-colored tip through your walls until he’s splitting you apart.
So thick that the sheer size of him makes you sob, your legs twitching upwards once he hits the gooey back of your pussy so hard that your mind numbs. “So good- so good I can’t help but keep wanting to hah! fill you up.”
“Oh- oh, just like that–! Want it- ngh- make me your cumdump, Kento.”
“Cumdump- cumdump, huh?” His gravelly tone makes your entrance quiver, gushing walls clenching when he’s surging back to stuff himself inside snugly. Aching for that burning stretch of him, “You like it all inside, darlin’?”
And it’s a rhetorical question - but your sloppy cunt’s squelching out a few answering noises anyway. So fucking wet that even the slighest gyration stirring up your velvety innards slops out a wet puddle.
“O-ohhhh–” He’s groaning, plush lower lip wobbling ever-so-slightly at the sound that sings like music to his ears. “You wanna talk to me baby- s’that it?”
You’re whimpering, goosebumps skittering all over your skin as Nanami’s strong tannish arms push you around - bending you further, more pliably, practically in half as he’s sprawling your thighs over his meaty ones and streeeetching until he can push his fat, reddened cock even deeper. “Oh- you want me to go ngh- deeper? Anything for you, my love. Anything.”
Unsure whether he’s talking to you or your bulging pussy, he’s clawing one of his hands up to his flared nostrils and sniiiffing your wettened panties.
Groaning, “Yeah- yeah.” Nodding- the sensible, stoic Nanami Kento was completely and utterly pussydrunk. Hoarse, “Oh, your s-sweet pussy’s just begging for me to cum inside.”
With a particularly rough scratch of his bawling orifice along your cervix, you’re wailing out shrilly, “Want it- p-please, give it t’me.”
You knew how to read him so easily, because all it takes is another saturated clench before Nanami’s finding his head thrown back. Maw hotly ajaw, golden happy trail scratching your back with a shiver.
“Can I? Can I really?” And there’s something cracked and broken, octaves-higher at the back of his gentle baritone voice. Still in disbelief as he’s plunging his hips into you even sloppier, harder. So, so desperate to make his tenderly overstimulated cock finally cum, “Can’t hah! help it…can’t help it can’t- ngh! Your pussy’s too good s’making an animal outta me.”
“Don’t- miss—ngh!‘ Tearful eyes rolling around in circular patterns like in some cartoon, Nanami has to reach over his left hand until he can tug your chin down to make you watch. Watch the show.
“Promise not to miss, darlin’.”
Won’t miss - couldn’t miss even if he tried, Nanami was dead set on slapping your bruised g-spot until it makes your vision blotch with white.
The exact same creamy ivory that forths out of your greedy cunt once he’s finally, finally hitting his lecherous high. Finishing off in such a wet, primal way that coats both your folds with a glossy polish, his ribbons of cum are so scalding hot that your thighs start getting clammy with slick n’ sweat.
Nibbling down on your plush lower lip, “F-feels so good- hck!”
Full enough that your hole’s being pushed widely agape by Nanami’s rummaging cock until his syrupy cum leaks out. He’s planting two firm feet on the mattress to rut and rut and milk himself, sensitive veins rubbin’ up until tears spring to his hooded peripherals. “You like it a-allll inside, huh? Feel me all up in- here.”
The knobbled end of his thumb comes snaking down stealthily, drawing a little cum-covered heart on the slope of your pussy.
It lets out the wettest, most sinful plop! as you watch Nanami suck off the milky excess, groaning. Pushing his nosebridge back into your stringy panties, it’s as if your pheromones were enough to drive him mad all over again. “Wonder if a third one would fit, my love?”
♡ GETO SUGURU - MEAN!
“N-not yet.” You’re piping up smugly for about the nth time tonight, the rounded mounds of your ass pushing back on Geto’s sharp hipbones until he’s gritting his teeth and forcing himself not to cum.
Not to just cream your gummy walls fully in heaping oodles like he oh-so-badly needed to.
The pretty apples of his cheeks blushing raw n’ red at your endless teasing, Geto spanks his slender palm down on your right ass cheek and watches you shiver. Tiny, wracking trembles of yours turning into full-on gasps once you feel the way he only grows harder. Thicker.
“H-heh, y’know I get bigger when you’re mean to me, gorgeous.” He groans in your ear, raspy and ruined once his big, beefy left forearm comes to trap your throat in a fucking headlock. And he wasn’t merciful, either - Geto’s pushin’ his bicep close until you could feel every vein covering him. “You must really like this biiiig fucking cock then, huh?”
Taking you feverishly from behind, he was just so damn big that you’re feeling his pudgy cockhead push into your lungs.
Dragging a wet line of precum that lets his throbbing shaft slip n’ slide rapidly inside, every plap! of sticky skin-on-skin makes your hazy pupils swirl stupidly in circles inside your eyeballs. Whining, “You’re s-sooo mean, shouldn’t ever let you cum inside, Suguru.”
“I’m mean- I’m mean?” Something scratchy and pitched cracks at the back of his chuckle, gaze dilating wider like he couldn’t even believe what he was hearing. Crazed. “Tellin’ me I-I’m mean when-”
Trailing off, his plush, pink lips pucker up n’ swat your tender slope with a fat wad of saliva. Left hand sneaking slightly past your puffy lips to watch it sliiiide straight down your drooling slit, “-when you’re this fucking wet n’ expecting me not to cum inside?”
You’re so sappily drenched that every harsh rut is making you gush out in all but torrents, a few beads of slick starting to drizzle down your inner thighs.
But of course, Geto Suguru couldn’t have that.
And without a second thought, he’s dragging his thick ringed fingers down those translucent gumdrops and slipping them into his mouth. Groaning at the sweetness, “Look h-how much you’re begging- how much you’re- hah! sucking me up.”
So snug inside your cute pussy that every creeping reel of his hips backwards left you bouncing too- the sight is so cute that Geto can’t help but splash out yet another treacly stream of spittle.
“O-oh my god, Sugu–!”
“If ya can take that, then you can take this.”
And then he’s just smoochin’ your g-spot softly, once– the last bit of niceness you get before simply bruising the tippy-top of his crowned reddish tip against his favorite target. Geto’s accuracy rate is a deadly 100% and it drives you wild, knees knocking against each other as you clench.
“O-oh.” The mere velvety hug of your tight walls enough to have him leaning his upper-body over - dark monks’ robes still half-on and disheveled - till the tufts of curly black hair atop his hilt scratch your spine sensitively. Breath hitching, voice guttural. “Evil girl. Evil-” Headlock tightening, “-evil. You drive me craaaaazy.”
Practically melting.
Geto’s skin was scalding hot and glued to your back, sweat-simmered forehead hitting the crook of your neck, a low trail of saliva gushes out of his mouth and hits your shoulder with a splat! splat! splat!
It’s as if he was out of control, the twitching fringes of his digits rover down to your neglected clit and roll his frigid metal rings on top. “Tell me.”
Hiccuping at both the toying on your delicate nub and the way that your heated pants get lodged in your throat, Geto’s sculptured arms manhandle your airway to constrict. You’re whining, “T-tell you what-”
He gifts the slippery hood of your clit with a slight pinch– tone raspy and hot against the shell of your ear. “Tell me what you want, gorgeous.”
Oh, he had you.
“P-please!” You were done for. And with only a few more vulgar streaks of sloppy precum being poured into your channel, your core aches for more more more. “Want you to cum i-inside, Suguru–”
And you had him just as much. His entire muscular weight sagging on top of yours until your cheek was being firmly pressed into the soft futon, the silken fabrics and ridges of his abs glissading clammily down your arched spine.
He groans in a hoarse drag, “Thaaaat’s more like it. S’better when you beg, gorgeous. Take it-” Every single syllable being punctuated with a solid battering ram, he was simply milking himself on your sweltering hot pussy. “-take it.”
You’re hitting your wave of bliss so suddenly that you don’t even realize until Geto throws his head back with a drawn-out ‘fuh-fuuuuck!’
Every hit after direct hit sending stars twittering in your bleary vision, the pleasure was just so much that it makes your knees weaken and hit the ground. “Please- please please please–”
The chilling coldness of his tongue piercing glides down your maw just in time with the slurping splash of dewy wet cum streaking your cunt. A thick white syrup that glues your pussylips together and makes such a soiling puddle underneath you two, Geto was cumming harder than he had in his entire life.
You’re sucking mindlessly on the very tip of his candied tongue, silver studded piercing flashing inside your heated mouth. “Suguru I–” Mewling at the warmth of the sheen dripping from your outer pussy, your sloppy hole is just gushing at this point. “-it feels so good.”
“Shut up.” Geto hisses through thoroughly bitten teeth, the sound of your pretty voice too much now that he’s tumbling straight into his own high. Leaning over, “Shut up shut up- sh-shut- nghhh–”
And it’s almost as if he’d just remembered his lecherous hold on you, snugly pulling on the headlock until you’re choking cutely on your words.
He’s pushing you down, down, down and stirring his heavy length, all the way from his sagging hilt to the very plump, plum-colored tip. Digging in deep at the very bottom, “Say anythin’ else in that pretty voice and it’s going to make me want to c-cum again, gorgeous.”
♡ CHOSO KAMO - Mind-BREAK
And it wasn’t just the slick rubber condom that was tearing at the edges – truthfully, it was Choso’s sanity, too.
Because the very moment you’re batting your prettily lashes up at him, mewling to ‘please please’ keep going- well, the half-curse finds his towering body wracking with the rawest, neediest shivers. Panting.
Shaking.
The edges of his pearly whites biting straight down into his bottom lip as his hot, cherry-red tip peeks out of the condom and slips right into your raw cunt. Just bawling in creamy wet droplets of pre, frothing down your quivering pussy.
“R-raw?” Choso’s trembling out, the cutest husky whine cracking at the end of his deep voice. And he’s gnawing down on the inside of his cheek to stop from whining once you nod. “I can really…raw?”
Snuggling him to your heaving chest with a pull at his sweat-matted locks, “Mhm– please, Cho. No need to be shy, I wan’ it all inside.”
“Wh-when you say ‘all’ inside…”
Oh, fuck. Your sweet boyfriend’s cock is so thick that he’s ravaging you from the inside out, swelling n’ bulging a few more lecherous centimeters wider so that that stupid lil’ rubber is torn clean off of him. You’re throwing your head into your soft pillows once you feel his mazing veins scrape-scrape-scraaaaape along your dewy walls, so laaazily.
Choso respires a few unsteady inhales as he’s urgently tugging off the shattered remains of the condom, slender soft tips of his digits then moving to give himself a pinch. Rasping, “S’real-” To give your perky clit a pinch. His eyes widen, “S’real s’real- it’s-”
You’re whining, hips bucking restlessly up where he was stuffing your cunt with rapid, ruined half-ruts. Over and over- like he didn’t even realize what he was doing. “O-of course it’s real, baby.”
Like he couldn’t do anything else.
“No, but- but it’s real-” Choso’s voice breaks as he’s pleading with you, granting your clit one last pinch. “M’going in raw and oh–!” Chestnut lashes flapping helplessly at the slick velvety feeling inside of you, you were hugging his throbbing length so warm, so tightly that he could feel his thighs twitch. “Fuck- I’m gonna fuck you now. Gonna fuck you for real.”
Not even registering that his hips already were pounding into you. He’s slouching over to ram faster, harder.
“Oh, m’already fucking you…”
The stretch so wide that your knees thrash weakly, “Shit- shit, feels so good, Choso– keep going.”
With a stolen peek at your bulging folds, Choso gingerly wraps his long fingers ‘round either side of your squirming hips to keep on pushing forward; even the slightest recoil making him grunt. More.
With a particularly harsh ba-dump–! of his slimy, curvaceous tip probin’ into your cervix, he finds his breath hitching. As if he’d just had an epiphany- “Does that ngh- mean I can do that thing called a….” Boring deep into your eyes, his steamily hot shaft releases a gooey line of precum. Jolting with excitement. “-a creampie, baby?”
Oh.
Oh.
Now that he’d had one taste, he wanted the entire meal. All three courses that made the man salivate at the mere thought.
Your spit-glittered lips droop into the perfect ‘o’ once the words finally sink in, moaning. “Wh-where do you even find this- out- hck! Cho?”
Now, Choso wasn’t experienced, not even close - but even he could feel the way your soppy pussylips were getting so much damper with arousal. Stamping a glistening kiss on his hilt that he wishes he could tattoo- “Read about it- online- and I–”
He’s breaking off with a fucked-out groan at the beaded droplets of moisture seeping from your entrance, pouring out with a splat! after every punctuating thrust.
And Choso doesn’t even realize how he’s moving - doesn’t even register the fact that he’s gripping your boneless legs and throwing them on his shoulders until you sob. Heels digging into his flexed deltoids, front meeting his tense abs, pushed into such a filthy mating press.
“-and I think m’gonna fucking die if I don’t fill up this pretty pussy, baby.”
“O-oh, fuck!” You’re shrilling through your clenched teeth every time he’s arching his muscular back to strike your g-spot precisely, filling your nooks and orifices with a clingy second skin of sap.
Choso fucks you straight through the mattress of your bed like he yearns for you - sloppy, sensual drags of his painfully-hard cock. “You wanna hngh! cum inside?”
“Please- please.” He’s gasping, strawberry divot leaking from the end of his long length with every vulgar stroke. “I want it. Need it- d-don’t know if I’ll be able to last with this cute cunt so raw n’ wet and raw.”
His parched Adam’s apple bobs carnally once you slide your greedy palms all over his luscious pecs, tuggin’ on those rose-pink nipples till he shivers. Down, down, down.
And he’s just too pretty with his eyes glazed-over with tears, gaze fiery through the cracks in his bangs. You just can’t help but waft your hands over each of his eight rippling abs and tease- “Tell me- how badly?”
Cutely pathetic wobbles taking over his rosy lips, “Badly- badly. Please, I’ll beg-” Choso’s beefy arms grip onto your hips stronger until you’re halfway through being lifted clean off the rickety bedsprings. You’ve ruined him- fuck, you’ve ruined him. A primally desperate expression taking over his features, “M’begging, please let me c-cum inside. Promise I’ll make you feel eeeeevery single inch- eeeeevery single- drop.”
Blinking, “Every?”
“Every.” And Choso’s just about ready to open his dry mouth and plead some more, to fuck the answer out of you. That is- before the hands that’d been tracing his dark happy trail end up slithering downwards, just barely reaching over to caress his rounded pink ballsack. “Ev- oh.”
To make him cum and cum harder than he ever has in his entire life.
When it rains, it pours - and Choso was simply flooding your poor, snug core with messy topping upon topping of white, syrupy seed. So much of it splashing against the circular bruises he’d made at the back of your pussy and rapidly overfilling you from the inside.
You can feel your warmly fuzzy mind sparking something primal with every spurt stuffed inside of you- and he wasn’t just pushing it inside, he was battering you with it.
Quick, aggressive spanks of his toned v-line into the underside of your thighs. He puffs out in a sweltering cloud of breath, eyeliner smudged through tears. “Fuh-fuck! Fuck fuck fuck- so this is a c-creampie? S’this how m’supposed to hngh- fill your pussy up, baby?”
Dolloping out a milky wad of cum that’d webbed around his bulky base, he’s coating his thumb in all of those juices and drawin’ a cute heart on top of your clit. Pressing down hard to make you cry out oh-so-prettily–
“Mhmm– you’re pussydrunk, Cho.” You’re managing to giggle out, fingers brushing away a stray strand of brown that’d plastered onto his sweat-glossed forehead.
Fingers that your boyfriend catches between his honed canines and bites. Hard.
Left hand angrily fisting the drenched hilt of his cock, palm smearing with a buzzing layer of Blood Manipulation. Of power that forces his weepy tip to pulse and harden– again. Again. “Oh, you’re about to see ‘pussydrunk’, baby.”
♡ RYOMEN SUKUNA - The big
“-two—three–hck!” You’re keening at the humidly burning stretch of your arched spine, bleary eyes falling over your shoulder and behind to where you were riding the great King of Curses in reverse. Well, more like splitting your poor pussy open–
Been like this for so, so long - a marathon. You could already feel the glittery ringlet of cum from rounds prior sinfully tickling your wide entrance, splosh! goes that cute tummy bulge he was fucking into you.
Flapping your tear-stained eyelashes, your voice cracks as you slip yourself down yet another one of his thick, barreling dual inches. So sensitive. “-f-four?”
“Keh- nice try.” Sukuna claws one of his four palms across your hips, using just the tiniest bit of his strength to draaaaag you down his copious, throbbing lengths. So much of him filling you up that it makes your head dizzy, “But no, mama, you’re eight inches in.”
Eight- eight?
Oh, the mere notion is enough for you to weaken your knees and let two of his monstrously massive palms take control.
Giving your right ass cheek a rude spank, “And only…” A third of his big, beefy arms measuring out the remaining girths that were puffy and aching to be stuffed inside of you. “-almost halfway more to go.”
“H-half- oh!”
Before that sentence has even registered in your mind, he’s tapping your trembly thighs open and giving a thorough slam that pries your gluey walls oh-so-apart. All but making you scream–
“Shush now- and let this pretty pussy be the one talking.” Sukuna licks his lips with a thin layer of spittle at the way you’re sucking him up ravenously. Every slap of his probin’ crownhead inside beading a few dewy droplets of precum that pour out with a sluuuurp. “What’s that? What’s that?”
Your moans are halfway through flooding your mouth before you realize that he isn’t even speaking to you.
No- no, he’s drifting his beady crimson eyes down to coo at your bulging pussylips. Bouncin’ your lecherous hips in swerving motions, he leans in even closer to listen to her.
“Ohhh, sloppy girl–” Sukuna puffs out through sweltering, stilted breaths. And you’re flinching at the dampened sliiiide of something wet and hot slithering between your swollen folds. Trawling a saturated layer of spittle with his damn cursed mouth, making a mess of the syrupy white seed leaking out. “-you want more, huh? I dunnoooo, better ask the missus.”
More.
More more more.
You were so full to your filthy brim that every minute movement made the knotted wads of cum inside of you splash.
Thighs trembling as you’re riding out a shallow, sensual pace, “M-more? What do you mean- ngh-”
Smack! goes the way that the king plants down yet another hefty slap, all of his fleshy fingertips branding permanently on your heated skin. “You know what I mean, lil’ human.” Sukuna’s so monstrously big that the slightest buck of his muscular thighs makes your driveling cunt sound out a squelch! “She wants ta be stuffed even more. Heh- greedy.”
“W-will it even fit, Kuna–?”
“Awww- see? I tried, girl.” Turning back to your lil’ stuffed pussy, you’re watching from the front as he puckers his lips in faux sympathy.
So filthy with his rummaging cocks that every hammering thrust makes him slide against the other, the zig-zagging lines of his veins massaging your sweet spots just right. Pullin’ apart your sappy cunt until you were just struggling to keep up the sheer stretch.
He’s soaking out a bucketload of buttery pre that sparked more of those noises he loved so much. “S’that so? Want me to ask again? Wan’ it haaa– that bad, huh?” Turning back to you, the underside of Sukuna’s cursed tongue flattens to roam over like a tendril, giving your clit a spank. “Begging- s’that what you want? The king to beg?”
And oh. Oh- if any one of his cursed subjects could overhear the king right now then they would have fainted
Jaw dropped, hips faltering, eyelids fluttering to try and dredge up some ounce of your rationality. “B-beg?”
“Mhm—” And, well, part of Sukuna thought it’d be a joke, part of Sukuna was so pussydrunk that he was just babbling. Slithering his sizzling tastebuds all over your sheeny inner-thighs, spearheading you with his bulbous tips until he’s swiping all the way on your cervix. Twice. “C’mon, girl. M’begging- begging here to cum inside, kissin’ your feet and all.”
The mouth slashed across his sculptured front titters, lightly craning over to plant a few smooches all over your ankles. He hums, “See? See? M’begging- c’mon, girl, milk me dry- milk the king dry. Look at how you’ve got me.”
And your hips - oh, your birthing hips are so good that it has his crown scalp overheating, fuzzy every time the globes of your ass jiggle sensually down onto his tattooed hips.
Hitting, hitting, hitting.
Until your flesh is stinging and raw, heavy spitballs falling out from your mouth - enough to make your words incoherent. “Th-then please.” A hot stream of tears hitting your cheeks, “Please.”
“P-please.”
And that last beg wasn’t one from your parched lips - it was one from his. Ryomen Sukuna unfastening his sharp jaw to let his trembling baritone crack with what sounds like a whimper once you’re hitting your high.
And then he cums.
With both matchingly rock-hard ends of his shafts, the ridges of his tip catch on your softest spot and drench it in silvery bouts of syrupy white seed. Pumping and pumping you full until he can trek a hand up to about halfway down your tummy and pat the lil’ cylindrical outline.
You’re thrashing at the zaps of pleasure that blur your vision, “It’s s-shoooo full–! Hck! It’s so full, Kuna–”
“How cuuuute–.” His whispers make shivers run down your spine, curling a hand ‘round your throat so that he can gnaw his gnarly canines down your throat.
The split-ended edges of his tongue slip along the slimy ribbons of cum that trickle out of your creamy pussy. Lapping up every inch of you, “She’s happy heh- look at her.”
Until a carnal scratch along your slippery slit makes your wet pussy squeeeelch, “O-oh, she’s saying–” You’re craning your head to meet Sukuna’s half-lidded, glowing eyes and oh- oh, you were fucked. Because Ryomen Sukuna whimpers, “-she wants more…”
♡ INO TAKUMA - 1st.
“First-” Departs Ino’s gruff whine, panted right into the crook of your neck while he squeezes you to his toned front. “M-my first time- is this really real? Really reeeally real?”
A pretty smile tugs on your spit-slicked lips, enough to make Ino want to cum right then and there. “Of course- why, baby?”
“B-because it doesn’t feel real, pretty.” Comes his sultry, low-toned answer, wrinkling his nose and grunting at the squelching slip n’ slide of your oversaturated folds down his reddened cock. You’re biting down on the plush of your lower lip when his puffy veins scratch your outer pussy sensually. “Can’t believe m’going to- to…”
Ino’s so drunk on your sweet, sweet pussy that he’s already run out of words.
The tawny strands of his bangs covering his eyes, his heart-shaped pupils are fully starstruck once he pushes the pointed globe of his cockhead into your hole.
Breath hiccuping. Panting.
Throat ripping with a cracked whimper as he’s easing in, “Can’t believe that you f-feel so good and-” Dizzy pupil locked on the way he’s pushing your bloated lips so far apart- Ino’s so damn thick that just the simplest few inches is enough to make your knees weak. “-a-and fuuuuck…m’not gonna last.”
Not a few more minutes, not even for a few more breaths. Just one squelching touch and he’s finding himself gone already.
Ino’s further spreading his capped knees on the bed to rut and rut and rut like he’s trying to milk himself stupid. Slicked, glistening stripes of pre dripping down either side of your heated thigh, he’s making such a mess.
“Aww— you wanna ngh- cum inside, Taku–?” You’re coaxing through his mindless pace, pushing with the left-leaning angle of his fat length like he was addicted.
And he was- oh, he was addicted. So, so addicted that just the mere idea - just hearing those words fall from your puckered lips - was enough for him to want to cum right then and there.
Gnawing on his plump, cherry-pink bottom lip, “Yes- yes, please.” He’s breathing out, soft panting gasps hitting your face like a scorching breeze. And his fuzzy happy trail is making your clit rub raaaw once he starts glissading even deeper inside. “C-can I cum inside, sweetness?”
“Hmm–” You’re pretending to think whilst he patiently waits, “I dunno—”
And you watch as he stalls, you watch as he falters. You watch that dopey, ruined smile plastered all over his face sag ever-so-slightly, that strawberry orifice weeping from the end of his cock pulsing angrily in response. That is- until you’re plowing on teasingly, “How badly do you want it, baby?”
Oh, and Ino can only think to go harder- a chance, you’re really giving him a chance.
Drilling his slick-lustred girth into you faster, rougher- he’s gritting his teeth and pounding all his voluminous, plumpened inches inside like a madman. “Badly- so, so badly–” Words coming out a throaty croon, he’s almost yelping from the back of his throat at the raw sting of slamming flesh.
“Hmm- now where are those manners?”
“P-please. Please, pretty? Please let me ngh! cum inside? I’ll do anything.”
“Anything–?”
“Anything.” Ino nods and nods, tumbling over his unsteady fingers to wrap ‘round your perked, swollen clit like he’d read online. “I’ll do anything.”
And what he said - he meant.
He’s scouring his bloated cockhead till you feel him dig a deep crater into your g-spot, a rounded bruise the exact size of his thick circumference. Ino might be the sweetest, but his jackhammering tempo certainly wasn’t. “Anything- I-I’ll clean up after and take care of you and kiss you to sleep and…”
Mouth flooding with a glinting few droplets of saliva, falling into the perfect oh! once he’s locking his eyes with your syrupy cunt once again. How pretty.
Grinning, “-and marry you.”
And he barely even hears it - that tiny, mewling ‘i-inside!’ that you’re letting off before Ino’s cottony eardrums pop! and he’s suddenly all but bursting inside of you.
Straight streaks of cum that clog your cunt sweetly from the inside out, you throw your head back at the noisy squeeelch–! that thunders out from between your soppy pussylips. Ino’s ropy liquid showering your hole in white and trickling out in a lil’ puddle.
“S-so good.” You huff out, thighs sticking to each other with the glue-like texture of his seed.
He’s finding himself hypnotized by the slicked mess, by how ruined you look. And it’s a sight so heavenly that Ino’s barely out of the woods of his waves of euphoria - hazel eyes teary, thighs still twitching, the mushroomed ridge of his length coating with even more layers of splashing cum as soon as he’s hastily pulling out.
“S-said I’d do anything, pretty.” He mutters, now positioned near the end of your dampened bed where he’s pushing himself deeply into your puffed-up pussylips.
One hand bullying your jittery thighs open, the other wrapping around his bulked hilt and seeping reverse cursed energy through his skin.
More, he needed more. And he’s making himself harder—
And Ino always did look so pretty - but right now? With his brown hair unruly, eyes sleepy, delicate mouth glossed in a thick coating of liquid that drips all the way from his upper lip to his chin? You think he’s never looked more beautiful.
Swollen lips latching ‘round your tender clit, you’re seeing literal stars as he sucks on that ravaged lil’ nub like his favorite gummy candy, licking off that salty ivory topping. “N’ first up was haaaah- cleaning you up.”
♡ GOJO SATORU - The addicted
“Aww, look at you, sweetheart- just look at you.” Gojo’s raw, ruined voicebox huffs out, biting down on his plump lower lip that just won’t stop grinning pussydrunkenly. “You want me to cum inside you soooo bad.”
You’re huffing out between every pointed thrust he’s easing inside you from behind, prying apart your glue-topped pussylips with a squelch. “A-as if, don’t think you’re ngh! off the hook already, Satoru.”
And that really would’ve been more effective if your sloppy cunt wasn’t just slobbering out ropey wads of sap with every passing second. Gojo’s thick, barreling cock so swollen that every brush of his candy-red tip leaves you gasping.
It almost makes you forget that you were really supposed to give your husband an earful for skiving off of yet another jujutsu meeting. But that was so goddamn hard when he was fucking you like this.
“But you called me ‘Satoru’—” He’s humming in your ear, words dipping into such a whiny territory. With a stinging spank of his vibrating, cursed energy-capped fingertips on your clit he has you arching into him.
Tilting his head with such a cocky, cocky grin. “See? See–?” Gojo hoists his muscular leg up until the plane of his foot rests upon your head, rudely. “Don’t lie- You want the strongest to cum in you, don’tcha?”
Forced to bite down on the mushy innards of your cheek to keep yourself from fucking screaming - or worse, completely and utterly agreeing with him. Instead, you’re only perking your hips up minutely so that his rummaging pounds can probe an even deeper bruising circle on your cervix.
Hard.
Desperate.
So, of course Gojo Satoru and his blazing Six Eyes will notice.
Of course, he’ll crack out a low snicker as he abuses that special power to stir his fleshy cockhead around and around, giving your g-spot a good whack.
“Oh you do—” He’s crooning out from behind you, tone scratchy, octaves higher. And the inkling of something so raw and dark seeped into his tone is enough to make you whimper. “-you do you do you do.”
“Fuh-fuck–!” Thighs clenching as he swats them upright and arches you into some of the most vicious thrusts. Bottomed out, drenched all the way to his bloated hilt, and yet he was still pushing and pushing to fit further inside.
He needed you - wanted you to be so full of him you couldn’t even think. The tight curvature of his fattened balls kneading into the base of your wet cunt, “Tell me you want it- tell me.”
“N-not until you start attending your meetings- ngh!”
“Ohhh I love a mouthy girl.” He titters, flexible body bending until he’s so sinfully close to your ear. Gojo’s melding you deeper into the mattress with every second, every jackhammer, every squeeze of his foot bullying on top of your head and making all the blood in your body rush up there, dizzyingly.
With a precisely-planned knock-knock-knock on your soft womb, he’s rutting his toned v-line into you like he was going craaaazy. Plum-shaped crown of his cock squirting out just a warning few ribbons of sappy precum— “But I’d prefer if that mouth was used for haaaa- something else, my girl. How are you gonna have this hngh- biiig fuckin’ cock inside you and not want me to fill ya up, huh?”
Pushed so deeply into the puffy silken cover of your pillows that your next words are incoherent–
“Louder.” Usually-melodic voice now stern, almost feral. His sapphire blue eyes were bolting with flecks of lightning.
Again- and again your words are nothing but blubbers of moans and syrupy saliva that just kept on flooding from your mouth with sheer bliss. Dangling from your lips, “I- ngh- Toru–”
“Louder.”
And then finally - finally - Gojo’s easing the pressure of his foot just enough to make your agape maw lift off the bed with a muggy pwah! Moaning into the steaming hot puddle of drool that you’d collected, “Don’t make me- ngh…s-sex- ban-”
It’s barely audible, barely understandable.
But to the strongest, it’s as if his entire body is just rattling at the sudden sentence. Jujutsu powers snapping out of control until he suddenly had you laid out on your back against the bedsprings; thighs on his buff shoulders, cock nuzzling your g-spot in split-seconds.
Teleporting the two of you into a mating press.
Gojo reels until he’s just bucking savagely into you, cadence feverish - frenzied. Not even fully slamming from the pre-capped fringe of his tip anymore, just half-thrusts that have you wailing shrilly.
“No-” He’s hissing at the clenching feeling of your cozy walls, pressing the curves of his prominent veins just right against your g-spot. He didn’t even need to use Six Eyes anymore, he was mapping out and filling every single nook and cranny of you. “No no no no- no- it was a joke- a joke, see?”
A nervous bout of lilted laughter bursts out in a puff against your face, and glossy strings of drool just spill from his swollen lips.
Soft, they’re kissing n’ kissing you until you’re dazed. “A j-joke, huh?”
“Yes- please. Please let me- haaaa- inside.”
And you’re swearing that his harshly pillaging girth pulses even fatter n’ harder after those next words escape your mouth. “I- hck! Fine- inside. Want it mmm– inside, Toru.”
“O-oh.”
And then he’s gasping, he’s shivering.
Sculptured body collapsing into yours until you’re feeling every massaging push of his firm pecs, his washboard abs. Pace so hard that you’re pushed further and further up the headboard with only the recoil of his cock bashing into your sweetest spots.
But Gojo doesn’t see it that way - Gojo can’t think of anything at all other than the fact that your cute dripping cunt might be running from him and he just can’t have that.
“Come back, sweetheart-” He’s hiccuping, mindlessly activating a few tendrils of cursed energy that keep you in place. “Come back come back come back so that I can- hck! can…”
Gojo doesn’t even have the privilege of finishing his sentence before he’s doing what he’s been yearning to do for so long.
Pumping your hot pussy full with thick, ropey wads of cum that glue your plush walls together from side to side. And it feels so heavenly to finally reach his finish line inside you, whimpering at the lecherously sticky slosh of drooling sap he’s rummaging with each thrust.
Pearly whites sinking into his trembling lower lip, “Nghhhh- yeah that’s it, my girl. Look at me fucking you, that’s it- take it all.”
Making such a mess - making you so dumb on his cock. Gojo mutters to himself dazedly over the slurps and moans you’re letting off- thick n’ raspy. He counts down, “Three…two…” Before dragging his energy-coated thumb once over your clit, “-one!”
And it wasn’t just his Six Eyes that told him you were cumming - it was your pretty pussy.
Completely shattered, your pillowy insides are clamping down on him so hard that he’s rutting against it and fighting to plunge his sagging cock deeper into your slippery channel. Head throwing, eyes crashing with tears at the sheer bliss- “Toru- Toru!”
“Yeah- I got you, sweetheart, your Toru’s got you.” Gojo wheezes out, and he doesn’t know what he loves more - you, or you when he’s fucking his fat webs of cum inside you.
Frothing out a creamy white coating from your leaky entrance, so thick that he’s swabbing his thumb down your slit to clear up the mess. Voice shattering with something that sounds like the last remnants of his sanity, “O-one down.” He looks from his proud creampie to your face, gifting you with a big battering ram. Chuckling, “Five more to go.”
♡ HIGURUMA HIROMI - OVERTIME
Higuruma was late.
He was so, so late for work— but did that really matter when he had you - his gorgeous wife - sprawled all over the living room couch, so pretty and fucked-out while he pounded away into you like a madman for the nth time this morning?
This was heaven.
Well- it would be heaven if he wasn’t so damn late-
“Sugar- angel-” Higuruma’s pants through clenched teeth, seething every time he swivels his aching, red-hot tip into your mushiest crevices. Unable to make himself stop. “-my wife.”
You’re finding your swollen folds fluttering at the gravelly tonality of his voice; your sensible, hard-working husband reduced to this. And the thought is enough to make you smile, “Mhmm– m’here, Hiromi.”
Hell, you n’ that sweet pussy of yours was so addictive that he half-wished you weren’t.
Well, not really- never really. And Higuruma’s loosening his dark tie with a heady tut- “Look at how you’ve r-ruined me.” Almost incredulous, he can’t help but lock his eyes down on the soppy, dampening patch of sap that was starting to formulate on his formal pants.
Disheveled, suit jacket slacking off whilst he slouches his shoulder muscles over and gives your cervix a few more sensual slams. Milking himself. Milking you.
Darkly muttering, “This one’s the last one before I g-go to work. Just a quickie, angel- just a quickie before I oh-” Shit, he can’t even finish that sentence before feeling his tightened balls flinch at your gushing clench.
“You said that hah! last time, too-”
“Well, this time I mean it.” And if you didn’t know any better then you’d be swearing that Higuruma’s pale pink lips were pulling into a pout, dark eyes narrowing down at you. “This time I r-really mean it–” He utters as he’s rovering two roughened palms underneath your thighs to throw them over his shoulders.
The crowned globe of his curvaceous tip scratching a carnal itch at your cervix as he’s leaning his hips in and bending. Down, down, down until both you and the aged couch are singing with delight, “-I really- really…”
But one look - just one, proper look at you all bent into this mindless mating press, leaking a creamy frosting of cum from between your legs - and Higuruma is done for.
Larynx ripping with a hoarse groan like he already knew he lost, he’s drawling out. Syllables slurring together as if he was drunk, “Sugar…”
“Yeeess, Hiromi?”
Dazed already. “Have I ever told you how much I ngh- love you?” Higuruma’s sharp nosebridge crinkles at the very top when he snarls. You’re squealing once his thick office button-up starts rubbin’ on your hardened nipples, “How much I love- her.”
And by her, who else could it be?
You’re whimpering, back arching off of the perspiration stain you’d created on the cushion once he’s snaking his left hand to your clit and toying. Rolling over the cold, mean edge of his wedding ring right where you were the most sensitive- Higuruma only watches and watches as that makes you pour out hefty bucketloads of cum.
Bobbing Adam’s apple parched, not only does he gaze - he stares. Hypnotized. “Th-think my wife needs to be ngh- filled up, actually.”
“M-more?” Your voice crackles out, eyes widening at the already-lecherous feeling of him increasing his sloppy strokes until your snug channel feels bloated. Stretching and stretching.
“More.”
A bead of sweat drips from the side of his dark, slicked-back hair and hits your chest with a striking splat! Precisely in unison with when he’s whacking into your g-spot so hard you’re seeing white pop up in your vision. Growling, “M’serious- r-really wanna cum inside.”
And he wasn’t just fucking you mean, he was leaving your clit all bruised n’ extra swollen, too.
“No- really need to cum inside.” Clearing his throat ever-so-slightly, Higuruma’s dewy raven eyes gaze upon you through his long lashes. So sexy like this that you’re feeling your mouth water with your answer already, “C-can I? Please- please, can I?”
Oh. You just made stern, stoic Higuruma beg.
And now that he’d started, he couldn’t stop.
Harder and harder.
Rumbling baritone already fraying at the edges- he’s growing more n’ more feverish with each disturbed dollop of cum that sprayed out of you. “Look at h-her- oh, just look at her.” Blinking his heavy lids furiously to clear out some semblance of his vision, “Fuck the time- fuck work, she’s mine.”
You’re rutting your hips to meet his, a splatter of saliva growing from your mouth due to his sheer dumbifying pace. “Yours- p-please- yours-”
“And I’m yours-” Higuruma gasps- as if anything else would be wrong. Nosing down the line of your throat, your essence was so addictive that he could almost taste it. Faster. Harder. “So how could I n-not cum inside my pretty lil’ wife? And if we get a cute kid nine months later then…”
Milking himself on you, ruining himself. He was already so sensitive that only a few slicked glissades across your cunt make his half-lidded eyes tear up - and fuck- you weren’t any more stable.
“-even better.”
Because the moment those words waft from Higuruma’s plump lips, you’re cumming. Crashing into your high headfirst, you don’t even realize it when those tingly buzzes of pleasure had turned into a pure torrential wave.
Squirting- oh.
You were really making sure that Higuruma’s office suit was unwearable right now, because those splattering streams of sap paint his formalwear see-through. Raining down, dripping pearly beads of moisture up n’ down every ridge of his abs.
Flinching, he gifts you with pump after pump that spikes the sensations of your orgasm and makes you arch. So good. “O-oh my god– oh my god, angel.”
Mouthing out through your spittle-glued lips - the only thing that Higuruma can see right about now - ‘cum inside.’
And that’s all it takes- all it takes for your poor husband to lose his damn mind.
Higuruma feels his throat go raspy with moans upon moans of your name, babbling away. “Th-thank you-” His breath hitches at the thumping impact of every wire of seed trickling down to your cervix, the recoil of each single thwack! of webbed mass splattering in a recoil back to his capped tip. “Thank you thank you- thank you, sugar, for taking it all.”
Your greedy pussy so parched that you were practically slurping it all past your puffy entrance, every. single. drop.
It’s so filthy - your dribbling cunt is so filthy.
And Higuruma’s fucking blushing a bright, maidenly pink from the tips of his ears as he runs his left hand over the bubbling sheen of white escaping your quivering hole. Right hand reaching for that hastily-discarded phone of his-
“H-hello?” The partially-steady words startle you only a few sultry seconds later, “Yeah this is Higuruma- I’d like to call off today. My wife is…” And your husband chokes your shocked gasp with a fat thrust of his wettened, vein-decorated cock. Throbbing inside your squelching cunt for more, “-sick.”
𝓉𝒶𝑔𝓈: casper x afab!reader · dom!reader x sub!casper · soul-stealing & stolen moments · playful power dynamics · teasing & pet names · praise kink · love/hate tension · seductive banter · soft turns rough · blowjob → maybeee anal · dark & magnetic vibes · inpso by haunted by beyoncé and the devil wears prada
𝓈𝓎𝓃𝑜𝓅𝓈𝒾𝓈: You were just an average assistant at a high-profile fashion magazine, drowning in coffee runs, a horrible bitch boss, last-minute deadlines, and the occasional existential crisis.
Nothing out of the ordinary. That was until he showed up; a sharp-tongued, infuriatingly attractive grim reaper with a bad habit of haunting you. Why? Good question. Apparently, you were on some kind of hit list, and he was assigned to reap your soul.
But if he thought he could scare you into submission, he was dead wrong. Because if a little reaper wanted to haunt you…
…well, you might as well haunt him right back.
𝓌𝒸: 16k
The mortal plane was always predictable.
A annoying world of flesh and bone, ruled by where life start in the wound and ends with a tomb. No matter how any human they fought, no matter how desperately they clung to existence, all paths led to him in the end.
Life was but a momentary flicker in the abyss, and he was the hand that extinguished the flame.
The space between worlds was his domain. A place where the living dared not tread, where the air was thick with the murmurs of the forsaken. Here, in the endless dark, he watched.
They called him many things—Grim Reaper, Phantom of the Veil, Death itself. He was the silent end of all things, the whisper in the final breath, the inevitable shadow lurking behind every heartbeat.
With a touch, he unraveled kings, crumbled empires, and reduced the devout to weeping husks. His presence alone could halt the breath of creation.
Like there was no force he could not bring to ruin. No soul could resist his claim. He had never known hesitation. Never known failure. And yet now, something wrong stood at the threshold of his dominion.
You. A mortal—or so you should have been.
His gaze burned through the abyss, crimson eyes narrowing as he leaned forward, his presence stretching across the fragile boundary between realms. A cold wind stirred in the living world, unnatural in its weight, pressing into the earth, curling around your feet like unseen fingers.
A warning. A summons. A death sentence.
And yet, you did not move.
Other spirits shrank from him, retreating into the shadows, whispering their prayers into the void. They clung to you—not in terror, but in something else. Recognition. As though you were not an intruder among them, but kin.
It was unnatural. A violation of the natural order.
A mortal could not walk this close to death and remain. A mortal should not be able to meet his gaze and still breathe. Yet, you stood unshaken, silent at the edge of the veil.
At first, he thought it was something else—perhaps a simple mistake? Some foolish soul who had wandered too close to oblivion.
But then, he saw it.
The unnatural stillness in your breath, steady and unfaltering, untouched by fear. The way the spirits curled around you—not in dread, but in something eerily close to devotion. The way you stood, unshaken, where no living thing should linger.
You were not like the others.
The realization coiled in his mind, very much amused. His head tilted, strands of white hair slipping over his shoulder as his crimson eyes narrowed. Did you sense him?
Could you feel the weight of his gaze settling over you like frost, lingering against your skin like the cold fingers of the dead?
You should have.
And yet, even as the wind howled and the night pressed in, you remained unbothered. No shiver. No faltering breath. No fear.
A slow, eerie smile crept across his lips. How quaint.
It had been centuries—millennia—since anyone had dared to meet his gaze with such unwavering defiance. The bold ones never lasted long. The moment they recognized him for what he truly was, the bravado cracked, the terror set in, and they fell apart like all the rest.
But you… you were different.
Grim let the word slip from his lips like a curse, testing the weight of it in the space between you.
"Mortal."
The sound twisted unnaturally in the air, stretching across the veil like a breath of something ancient, something final. But even as it echoed through the abyss, it felt… wrong.
You did not carry the scent of death, nor the warmth of the living. You stood in the in-between, poised on the knife’s edge of existence. Impossible. An aberration.
His fingers curled beneath his chin, gloved and motionless as he exhaled, mist curling from his lips like the dying breath of a world. No, you weren’t quite mortal, were you? Something sharp and hungry settled in his chest, a curiosity he had not felt in a very, very long time.
Perhaps he should test you.
See what made you different.
The studio thrived with straight-up chaos—just racks of garments rolling between rooms, fabrics draped over mannequins like offerings to some unseen deity.
Photographers adjusted their lenses, capturing such perfection with every calculated click, while designers hovered over sketches, their minds frenzied with last-minute alterations.
The air smelled of high-end perfume, ink, and freshly steamed fabric, a scent so distinctly alive that it nearly repelled the presence lurking in its midst. It wasn’t long before he found himself within a space not meant for his kind.
Grim rarely walked among the living so openly, yet here he stood, a phantom amid the world’s most fragile creatures—so blissfully unaware of how close death brushed against their skin.
And then, there was you.
Moving effortlessly through the flurry of industry, weaving between designers and assistants, clipboard in hand, murmuring approvals, adjusting details. Unlike the frantic energy of those around you, you moved with certainty, never flustered, never scrambling, as if the world bent to your pace rather than the other way around.
Grim watched. Intrigued. How pretty.
The thought whispered through him, curling in his mind like smoke. But not in the way he usually observed mortal beauty—delicate, soft, doomed to wither. No, you were not something that would crumble at a mere touch. You were enduring. Again, soft, like a perverse flower. Something worth admiring.
And he should not have been admiring you at all.
He had come for someone else. A soul marked by time, its final grains of sand slipping irreversibly through the hourglass. But you...
You were full of life. Stubbornly so.
It was meant to be nothing more than a passing glance, his eyes filled with curiosity. And yet—something about you demanded his attention. How dare you?
Perhaps it was the way the golden studio lights framed your face when you stopped at your desk, scanning through today's catalog. The glow from your laptop screen reflected in your eyes as you sent out the requests your boss had demanded. Or perhaps it was the way you should have sensed him.
Because you did.
He saw it in the way your fingers lingered over your keyboard, a slight hesitation, the briefest flicker of something in your expression. The way your posture shifted—not in fear, but in awareness.
You looked up. Behind you. To the side. As if you expected something to be there. And still… no fear.
Grim's lips curled into the ghost of a smirk, a slow, knowing thing. How quaint. A mortal that did not cower in his presence. He had seen countless souls—broken, frightened, bargaining for more time.
They always begged. Always.
But you? Shit, you couldn’t care less.
You simply turned back to your work, unbothered, as if Death itself was not standing like right behind you, watching. Fascinating.
Like damn, this was going to be a long day.
You shouldn’t have looked at him.
Honestly, rookie mistake. Why, out of all the places to let your eyes wander, did they have to land on a pale figure just lurking at the edge of your vision? White hair, almost glowing in the bright golden office lights, just floating there menacingly.
At first, you barely reacted. Spirits followed you enough that one more ghostly presence in your life wasn't exactly a new issue. It was like another annoying email in your inbox—just something you learned to ignore.
But then... he got closer.
You’d think a literal death-bringer would have better things to do than stalk some underpaid assistant at a fashion studio, but nope, there he was, just lingering. Hanging around the clothing racks, floating down the hallways like he had nothing better to do.
"Mortals are usually more entertaining than this," he mused, materializing beside you as you sorted through today’s catalog.
You didn’t react. Nor said anything back.
"They beg, weep, try to strike deals, but you? Not even a glance?" He leaned over your shoulder, reading the emails you were responding to. “Are you truly this dull, or is this job slowly draining what’s left of your soul?”
Still, you ignored him. Just to pretend you were irritated about work rather than the undead menace hovering behind you. Your boss stormed past your desk, rambling about a last-minute change in the collection lineup, completely unaware that you were being haunted.
“You!” she barked. “I need all the model sheets and—ugh, coffee. Black. No sugar.”
You didn’t even blink. “Yes, ma’am.”
Grim tilted his head, amused. “So obedient. How tragic.”
Your eye twitched.
Twenty minutes later, he was still talking.
"So, what exactly do you do here? Fold fabric? Worship those absurdly tall skeletons you call ‘models’? Suffer?"
You exhaled sharply, flipping through the model sheets as you strode down the hall, hoping to outwalk itself.Spoiler alert: you couldn’t.
"Why can’t they see you?" you muttered under your breath, careful not to draw attention from your coworkers as you balanced a tray of coffee cups.
Grim laughed. "Because I don’t want them to."
"Then why can I?"
"Good question. Why can you?" His grin was infuriatingly smug.
You glared at him, resisting the urge to dump scalding coffee onto thin air just to see if he could feel it.
Instead, you set your boss’s drink down on her desk and marched straight to the breakroom, hoping for a few minutes of peace. You swore, though, he was practically waiting outside the door for his cue, like some kind of ghostly actor who knew exactly when to make his dramatic entrance.
And when he did walk in, it was with the kind of confidence that only the dead—and apparently, Spirt—could possess. He moved like he owned the place, a pale figure that seemed to suck the air out of the room. You just wanted to sip your lukewarm tea and get a moment of calm in this whirlwind of a day.
A quiet moment. As rare as they were in this fashion department. But, of course, the real problem started the moment he stepped into the room.
Because as soon as he entered, he decided to open his mouth.
And when you say talk, you mean he did not shut up.
“Is this your lunch break? How tragic. So much time wasted just sipping a tepid drink while the world spins itself into chaos,” he mused, hovering a little too close for comfort.
You blinked, fighting the urge to roll your eyes. “Could you not?” You muttered, but he didn’t care. Oh no. He had all the time in the world to follow you around and spout whatever grim commentary he thought would make him sound more ominous.
"Such a sad existence you lead," he added, his voice trailing through the air like the chill of a winter’s night. “So many frivolous tasks, chasing shadows, pretending they matter."
“I’m sorry, what?” you said, only half-listening, as you dumped more sugar into your cup. Honestly, you’d been through worse. Talking to spirits was one thing, but this guy? This one was special. He dared to follow you everywhere—like an annoying coworker you couldn’t escape.
The tea was forgotten, abandoned on the counter as you stormed down the hallway, desperate for a moment of peace. The last thing you needed was this annoying, pale figure following you around and spouting off endless nonsense about time, existence, and whatever cosmic philosophy he was into today.
Of course, he wasn’t done. No, he didn’t understand the concept of space. He was right behind you, still standing as if there were no boundaries between worlds. You could practically feel him breathing down your neck as he leaned in, his voice cold and unnervingly close.
“You can’t feel it, can you?” He asked his words low, almost like a whisper in your ear. “You’re untouched by the flow of time like you’re standing between worlds. It’s fascinating. You should be afraid of me."
That was it. You’d had enough.
You stopped so suddenly that he almost walked into you. The Grim Reaper ghostly figure nearly collided with your back, but you didn’t even flinch. Instead, you pivoted on your heel with the kind of speed that made your coworkers worry if you were secretly a superhero. You crossed your arms and gave him a look—a look so cold, so done, that even your interns would reconsider their life choices if they saw it.
“Yeah, well, I’m not, okay?” You snapped, finally locking eyes with him. “I just need to get through my damn day without hearing your creepy monologue about the futility of human life, all right?”
You exhaled slowly and stood a little taller, letting the words hit him like a wave. "Listen here, Casper," you hissed, your voice sharp. "I have a very stressful job, an underpaid salary, and exactly four hours of sleep. I don’t have the time—or the patience—for your existential whining. So either haunt someone else or sit there and shut up.”
Grim blinked, the oddest expression crossing his face.
How… how did you know his name?
For a moment, there was silence. He just stood there, staring at you with those piercing crimson eyes, like you had just solved a mystery he hadn’t even realized existed. He didn’t move, didn’t speak. It was as if he was trying to process what had just happened. Maybe he was looking at you differently now like he hadn’t quite figured you out. Was that… curiosity?
Then, with a slow, almost sinister chuckle, he tilted his head, his white hair flowing like a ghostly mane. The sound sent an involuntary shiver down your spine, but you stood firm.
“You’re different,” he said, his voice a little lower, almost in awe.
You were about to snap something sarcastic back when you realized the absurdity of the situation. You—stressed, underpaid, and half-delirious from lack of sleep—were standing face to face with a literal Grim Reaper, and he was the one awed by you?
A bitter laugh almost escaped you, but you swallowed it down, irritated beyond belief. “Yeah, well, maybe you’re different too,” you muttered, grabbing your half-empty, lukewarm cup of tea from the break room counter.
You took another sip, feeling the sting of regret as the flavor barely registered on your tongue. “Definitely not what I signed up for today.”
Again, you were done with this. Absolutely, unequivocally done.
“Go away, Casper.” You were at your limit, your patience snapped into nothingness. His pale face was just too close—his crimson eyes staring at you with that unnerving mix of curiosity and amusement. You could feel his presence in every corner of the room like he was trying to worm his way into your very thoughts.
So you did what any person in your situation would do: you shoved him.
A simple push, just enough to send him stumbling back, and before he could catch himself, he fell into a rack of clothes. It was one of the designer gowns, a rich red that flowed like liquid, and the entire display tilted under his weight, sending a cascade of dresses crashing to the floor. The sudden noise was enough to startle your coworkers, heads swiveling as they watched the rack topple. But none of them saw the pale figure—just an empty rack of clothes spilling silk and fabric across the room.
You barely even glanced back as you walked away, your arms crossed tight, muttering under your breath.
“I’m not your plaything, Casper. Now get out of my face.”
Casper lay in the heap of tangled fabric, blinking in complete shock. His pale skin—almost glowing under the fluorescent lights—had flushed a deep red, a stark contrast against the rich tones of the gown still draped over his head. He lay there for a moment, completely disoriented.
No one—no one—had ever pushed him before. And yet, here he was, tangled in silks and stunned beyond belief.
For centuries, his presence had been feared, his touch the harbinger of death. When he stood near mortals, their very life force drained, absorbed by his touch like a dry sponge to water. No one touched him without losing something—some part of their essence, their time, their soul.
But you? You pushed him. And nothing happened. You didn’t wither. You didn’t fall to the ground, gasping for breath as so many others had.
Instead, you just stood there, that familiar, irritated look on your face. As if it were a bother.
He slowly sat up, pulling himself free of the mess of clothing. His usual confidence was shattered, replaced by a rare kind of vulnerability, an unfamiliar emotion twisting in his chest. He stared at you as you continued to walk away, your steps slow and deliberate, as if nothing in the world had happened.
How was it possible?
A mortal—you—had touched him, and yet, you weren’t dead. Or at least, you weren’t acting like it.
His heart—if he could still call it that—pounded with a new intensity. He couldn’t understand it. He had never met anyone like you, never encountered a mortal who refused to be touched by him, never one who dismissed him so… casually.
He pushed himself to his feet, brushing off the remnants of the clothes he’d knocked over, his pale cheeks still tinged red in a rare moment of fluster. He watched you, not moving, but he was already preparing for his next move.
Something about you intrigued him. You were far too interesting to just let go.
He took a step toward you but then stopped. His gaze fixed on the back of your head, your posture strong, as you walked away from him.
This... this was new.
Casper stood there for a long moment, uncertainty clinging to him like a ghost. Finally, his mouth curled into that familiar, eerie smile again. It was a slow, dangerous thing, full of intrigue.
You hadn’t just touched him. You haddefied him.
And that was something he hadn’t encountered in all his existence. Maybe, just maybe, this could be worth something after all.
Casper was… obsessed now. He had never encountered anything like you, and it gnawed at him, this unfamiliar sense of unresolved desire. You were not just some mortal, some fleeting soul to be reaped. No, you were a mystery—a puzzle that he couldn’t solve, and the very fact that you resisted him so effortlessly only deepened his fascination.
It wasn’t just the thrill of the chase that spurred him on. No. There was something else.
The high-ups, the ones who resided in the farthest reaches of the underworld, the ones who watched over him… they noticed.
A soul that couldn’t die? A soul that resisted the touch of death itself?
What did it mean? Was there something special about you?
Whispers spread like wildfire among the higher ranks. They didn’t understand it either, but they knew you were something worth having. Something that could change the rules. Something that could serve them—and maybe even him.
And so, Casper found himself following you like a shadow, lingering at your workplace, watching you from a distance when you left for the day, trailing you to the most mundane of places, his obsession only growing.
His pale figure appeared in glimpses—his white hair a stark contrast against the everyday world. He wasn’t trying to hide anymore; he didn’t need to. His focus was entirely on you, his every move calculated.
You had to know he was there.
You were far too perceptive to not notice the subtle shifts in the air, the flicker of his presence.
But he was clever. He was patient.
And he would get you to break.
The first time he cornered you after work, you were at the grocery store. It was a humdrum trip to stock up on essentials, the typical monotonous task that everyone in your position had to do. But not today.
No, today, Casper decided to make himself known.
You were scanning the aisles for something simple—maybe fruit, or a carton of milk—when you felt the unmistakable chill at your back. His presence.
"Hey," his voice was disturbingly casual, and when you turned, there he was, standing with his arms crossed, his usual eerie calm as ever. "Mind picking me up some original cup noodles and folded bread?"
You blinked, staring at him, incredulous. Of course, you had to question him. "What? Are you serious right now?" you asked, leaning against your cart. "Do you even eat?"
Casper tilted his head, the smile on his lips never wavering. "I do. Not like you. But still." He waved his hand absently as if it were the most normal request in the world. "Just a little snack, nothing too fancy."
You couldn't help but roll your eyes, your patience running thin. “You're dead, Casper. Why would you want cup noodles? And why would I go out of my way to get them for you?”
His response was a soft chuckle, cold and smooth. "Ah, but you see, the deal is this: I could give you something in exchange. Something you want. A little temptation, a trade. What’s your price?"
You glanced at the noodle aisle, ignoring him completely as you grabbed about 12-count cups of instant noodles for yourself. "Yeah, no. I’m good. You're not gonna tempt me with snacks."
Casper's eyes narrowed, a hint of frustration flickering behind his calm exterior. "What if I told you I could fix everything? The sleepless nights, the exhaustion, the stress. What if I could offer you peace?"
You tossed the noodles into your cart, uninterested. "I’m not looking for peace from a creepy grim reaper who can't take a hint."
Casper’s gaze grew darker. "You don’t know what I could give you. You don’t know how easy it would be to just—"
“Nope,” you interrupted, holding up a hand as if to stop him mid-sentence. You pulled out your phone, tapping away at a grocery list app to make it clear that he wasn’t worth your attention.
He let out an exasperated sigh, but his grin never faltered. “Still as stubborn as ever, huh?”
And just like that, you went back to your grocery shopping, effortlessly dodging his attempts to break through your calm.
The second time he tried was a little more… subtle. After your long shift, you decided to take a walk around the city to clear your mind. He appeared beside you on the sidewalk, as if he had been waiting, his steps soundless despite his form being right there.
“You know,” he started, his voice dripping with dark temptation, “I’ve been watching you. I could take away all your worries if only you’d trust me. Forget all this—your life, your struggles, the endless grind. Let me help you… Let me show you what I can offer.”
You didn’t even look up at him. “You keep offering me peace and I keep telling you I’m not interested.”
He stepped in front of you, blocking your path. “But what if you don’t have a choice anymore?” he asked, his tone darker, a little more insistent now.
You stopped and finally glanced up at him, your eyes narrowed. “I have a choice, and I choose for you to get the hell out of my way.”
He blinked, taken aback, as you casually sidestepped him and kept walking, your footsteps unhurried. You could feel his presence behind you, following, watching, but it didn’t matter. You had dealt with worse than some grim reaper with a vendetta.
Every time he tried, you outmaneuvered him with ease. Whether it was a carefully placed word, a choice to simply walk away, or the sharpness in your gaze that seemed to make him take a step back, you were always a step ahead. It was like a game, and with every move you made, he became more and more obsessed with you.
You were something impossible, and that was what gnawed at him the most.
The thrill of the chase, once so exhilarating, now felt hollow to him. He needed more. He needed to understand why you weren’t swayed by him. Why you couldn’t be broken. The problem was, he didn’t know how much you had already figured out about him—about death itself.
It started with something small. A quick moment when you were alone, a brief conversation when you thought no one was watching. He had asked you a question, one of those tricks to see if you would falter. Instead, your response had unsettled him.
“Do you ever think about what happens to you, after you die?”
You had looked at him like he was the mortal one. It wasn’t the question itself—it was the way you had said it, the way your eyes never wavered as you spoke.
Casper had chuckled, assuming you were making light of the topic.
But then, he saw it.
The way your gaze turned distant. Like you had seen something that wasn’t there. Like you knew something. “I’ve faced death many times,” you said, your voice so steady, so unbothered, it sent a chill through his entire existence. “It’s not as dramatic as you might think. You’d be surprised at how many times I’ve died without anyone realizing it.”
The words hung in the air. You weren’t joking. You weren’t pretending.
You knew what it was like to face death. To die.
That was the moment that he realized. It wasn’t just his touch that you could withstand. You were something else entirely. You had crossed paths with death more times than he could count—and you had survived.
The very nature of that unnerved him. How was it possible? How could you speak of it so casually, as though death was an old acquaintance you had learned to live with?
But what really disturbed him was the way you spoke of things even he didn’t know.
For the time you mentioned how the veil between the worlds had thinned after a certain incident, how the balance of life and death had shifted, even if it had seemed insignificant at the time. He did not know of it—none of it had been in the records, nothing he had been told during his training.
How could you know something like that? How did you see things he didn’t even see? There was something deeper inside you, something that made him uneasy.
You were not just a mortal.
Months passed, and he could feel his obsession intensifying, his frustration mounting. Every time you shrugged him off, every time you saw through his tricks, it was like a blow to his existence. It should have been easy to claim you, right? Just like any other soul. But there was something about you that turned everything he knew upside down.
And then, he followed you home. He didn’t care if it was stalking anymore. He had to understand you. Had to know what made you tick.
He watched you walk through the familiar door of your loft apartment, so effortlessly. To him, it felt like watching a predator enter its den. Yet, you remained unshaken.
It was a strange place for someone like you—too lived-in to be a typical mortal apartment, too quiet to be a place where anyone truly rested. You didn’t invite him in, didn’t even acknowledge his presence when you entered. But he followed.
His steps were silent, as always. He floated behind you, not wanting to miss a single moment. You didn’t even glance back, so used to his silent following that you barely reacted anymore.
The apartment was minimalist, but it had personality. A few things caught his eye—the piles of books that leaned precariously against the walls, the odd plants that seemed to be thriving despite your apparent lack of interest in them, and the dim lighting casting long shadows.
You moved around the apartment with practiced ease, grabbing something from the fridge, putting it into the microwave, your thoughts clearly somewhere else. He stood there, arms folded, waiting for you to break the silence.
And when you finally did, it wasn’t the question he expected.
“What do you want from me?” Your voice was sharp, and for the first time since he met you, he could hear the edge of tiredness in it. It wasn’t the usual disinterest or mockery.
It was weariness.
“I told you,” he started, almost sounding desperate now. “I want your soul.”
You didn’t respond immediately. Instead, you glanced over at him, and for a moment, there was a flicker of something in your eyes, something he couldn’t understand.
“But why?” Your voice was softer now, but still direct. “Why me? You’ve collected souls for how long, and you’ve never come across one like mine. Is that it? Am I some kind of… prize for you?”
He paused, thrown off by the unexpected vulnerability in your question.
“You know why,” he said, trying to regain his composure. “You’ve faced death, haven’t you? But you haven’t succumbed to it. You... you’re different. The high-ups... they’re curious. I’m curious.” He took a step closer, and this time, it wasn’t just about the soul. “I want to know why you can withstand it. Why you don’t die when you should.”
You didn’t look afraid. If anything, your eyes seemed almost… amused.
“Maybe I’m not meant to,” you said simply, taking a seat at your kitchen table and sipping your drink, casually uninterested in his presence. “Maybe I’ve seen things you can’t even begin to understand.”
Casper stood there for a moment, the realization dawning on him. He had always been the one in control, the one who made the rules. But now? It was clear. You were the one pulling the strings.
And it terrified him. Still, the obsession remained.
“I’m going to find out, whether you like it or not.” He vowed quietly, more to himself than to you.
You rolled your eyes at Casper’s words, his little declaration of trying to figure you out like you were some puzzle to be solved. Honestly, you had better things to do than entertain the idea of a grim reaper’s obsession.
Just as you were about to tell him to stop following you and to get out of your space, your phone rang.
It was another assistant you worked across from.
You sighed, already knowing this wasn’t going to be good news.
“Hey, quick heads up—I’m sick and won’t be able to make it to the event tonight. You’re going to my place for our boss. Dress nice, okay? You’ll be meeting with some big names—the ones that fund our department. They’ll expect a professional impression,” the assistant said, her voice a bit muffled from the cold she had.
You stared blankly at your phone for a few seconds after the call ended. Great. Just what you needed tonight. A high-profile event, and you’d have to step in at the last minute. Your peaceful evening, which had already been non-existent thanks to your favorite grim reaper stalking you, was now thoroughly ruined.
You sighed heavily, letting the irritation bubble up. You didn’t need the stress. You didn’t need Casper clinging to you, constantly breathing down your neck, following you from work to the grocery store, practically watching you while you tried to relax. It was like he thought he could wear you down and force you to acknowledge him.
Well, he wasn’t going to win that easily.
You turned to your bedroom and started walking toward it. The sound of Casper’s soft footsteps followed you like a shadow. “Can you just go?” You snapped, not bothering to look back at him. “I need to get dressed. Your presence is… annoying.”
His voice echoed behind you as you stepped into your room, already mentally prepping yourself for the headache that would be this event. “I’m not going anywhere.”
You shot him a look over your shoulder, eyebrows furrowed. “What do you mean ‘not going anywhere’?”
“I’m staying right here,” he said, his tone almost smug.
Of course, he would. He was as stubborn as a brick wall, and clearly had no intention of leaving you alone. But the idea of him lurking around your personal space? That crossed a line.
You had an idea—a rather ridiculous one, but hey, it would work.
“Fine, then.” You said with a sly grin, turning around as you walked toward your closet. “You stay then, Grimmy. But just… watch.”
Casper’s ethereal form hovered near the doorway, a little too close for comfort, but his interest piqued. “Watch what?”
You didn’t answer, instead focusing on finding the outfit you were going to wear. Casper stayed glued to the spot, curious as you began to undress, unaware of what you were about to do.
You removed your blouse first, feeling his presence lingering at the edge of your vision. The air felt thick with his silent attention. You casually let your shirt fall to the floor, then reached for the next item, your back turned toward him as you continued your task.
You could practically hear his ghostly breath hitch when you glanced back over your shoulder at him, a playful glint in your eyes.
“You like what you see, Grimmy?”
His body stiffened like he wasn’t sure how to react, but he didn’t move, still watching. His eyes, if you could even call them that, were practically burning holes into you.
You smirked, not bothering to hide your amusement as you casually slipped into the dress you’d chosen for the evening. “Don’t act so shy, Grim. I thought you liked souls.”
Casper’s reaction was almost comical, his form flickering as though struggling to maintain composure. “I’m not here for that!”
“Oh? Are you sure? Because I think you might be,” you teased, letting your hands linger over the fabric of the dress, turning slowly to face him. “You do know how to appreciate beauty, don’t you, Grimmy?”
Casper’s ghostly pale face had turned a noticeable shade of what could only be described as “flustered”—which was absurd. He was dead, for heaven’s sake. But there he was, looking like a deer caught in headlights.
Then, without another word, he vanished. Gone. Just like that. You blinked, a slight laugh escaping your lips. Well, that worked.
You finished getting dressed, the ridiculousness of it all sinking in. Somehow, you had managed to shake off Casper for the night by using his own discomfort against him. He’d been so caught off guard that he hadn’t known how to react. You couldn’t help but smile to yourself, feeling a small sense of victory. This night was going to be yours, even if it had started in chaos.
You grabbed your phone and checked the time—just enough time to grab your purse and head out. At least for the evening, you could pretend that everything was normal, and that meant no ghosts, no interruptions.
The moment you stepped out of your loft, you slipped into the role you had mastered: the calm, composed assistant who could handle anything, even the most unexpected of crises.
Tonight was no different. Your boss had trusted you to step in for her at the event, which meant your ability to perform under pressure was being tested once again.
The venue was a grand, multi-story ballroom with vaulted ceilings and an ambiance that screamed wealth and prestige. Crystal chandeliers glimmered above, casting a warm glow over the sea of guests mingling below. You entered with a practiced grace, your heels clicking softly against the polished marble floors as you navigated through the crowd.
Your boss, the editor-in-chief of a well-known fashion magazine you worked at, maintains her usual level of poise. She greeted people, shaking hands, exchanging pleasantries, and making small talk while you stood beside her, quietly observing the whirlwind of conversation.
As her assistant, you were in charge of handling all the logistics, ensuring the guests were taken care of and that everything ran smoothly. That meant taking note of important names and contacts, managing schedules, and keeping an eye out for any potential hiccups.
Tonight, you were the one making sure everything stayed on track. You took your place near the entrance, casually keeping tabs on the crowd as your boss moved through the room, chatting with potential investors and key figures in the fashion industry.
Every so often, she would glance over at you for a quick update or a reminder about certain guests, and you would provide her with the information she needed, always two steps ahead.
You kept a mental checklist of the key players in the room: the head of the fashion department’s major sponsor, and the influencer known for setting trends in the digital world. Each person needed to be addressed properly, and each interaction carefully curated.
When your boss handed you a list of names to memorize last week, you took it without question, scanning over the details and committing them to memory. It was no longer a matter of whether you would succeed tonight; it was simply a question of how flawlessly you could execute everything. And you knew you’d do it with ease.
As the night wore on, you glided between conversations, keeping track of your boss’s needs, occasionally stepping in to provide information to the guests, and always maintaining that cool professionalism that made you stand out.
At some point, you were asked to retrieve some drinks for your boss.
You navigated the crowd without a second thought, moving efficiently between groups of people as you made your way to the back office. You could hear the hum of conversation as you passed, the occasional laugh, the clink of glasses, but you were focused.
You made your way to the bar, your mind still buzzing from the whirlwind of the evening, but something felt… off. The familiar weight of being watched had slipped away, and it was strange. Normally, the pull of a presence, some ghost or spirit trailing behind you, would have been so ingrained in your routine that you’d hardly notice it.
But tonight? It was like the feeling had vanished entirely.
It was unsettling. You couldn’t shake the feeling that something was missing, like an itch you couldn’t scratch. The eerie quiet made your thoughts drift back to your childhood—a time when seeing spirits was more of a curse than a gift. You remembered telling your parents about it, about the strange faces that would appear to you, whispering their names, hovering just out of sight.
And their response? A quick trip to a mental institution at a young age. "You're imagining things," they’d said. "It's just your mind playing tricks."
You had hated it.
Hated the way your parents treated your abilities as if they were a problem to be solved. And that hatred turned into bitterness. Ever since you’d learned to hide it—to pretend that you couldn’t see the spirits who followed you, pretending their whispers didn’t get under your skin.
You had learned to tune out the names that would sometimes float around the edges of your vision, names that would send a chill down your spine.
Death had always been a part of you, and you hated it. Hated how it was always there, how it clung to you like a shadow. You’d been forced into hiding your truth for years. And yet, here you were, working in fashion—a world so far removed from the grim reality of death that you could almost convince yourself that it didn’t exist.
But even this world was not free from its pull.
You looked around at the event, the glamour, the flashing lights, the elegant conversations, and you couldn’t help but feel slightly detached from it all. You loved fashion, no doubt about it. The creativity, the artistry—it had always been your escape. And even though the pay didn’t match your hard work, you had been content.
At least you thought you were.
But a part of you missed the thrill of the chase, the mystery—the way Casper had been, in his way, a strange, unwelcome source of entertainment.
Yeah, he was annoying as hell.
But if you were being honest, he had made things more… fun.
You took a deep breath, shook your head, and tried to push those thoughts out. You didn’t need to think about that little reaper. You just needed to focus on your life, and your dreams.
And then, as if the universe couldn’t let you have a moment’s peace, you turned the corner and ran smack into a man dressed entirely in black, with a red tie that mirrored the intensity of his eyes. His grip was firm as he caught you by the shoulders, steadying you as your balance faltered.
You blinked. You took a step back. No way.
There, standing in front of you, was none other than Casper—in human form?
His usual pale, translucent appearance was gone, replaced by a sharply dressed figure, his black suit crisp and immaculate. His red tie, sharp as his gaze, matched the color of his eyes—those eyes that gleamed with an unsettling amusement.
“Did you miss me?” he asked, his voice smooth and mocking as ever. The words slid off his tongue like a challenge, almost as if he were daring you to deny it.
You rolled your eyes, forcing yourself to recover from the shock. “What the hell are you doing here?” you asked, your annoyance rising instantly. The shock was wearing off, but the frustration remained. “I thought I told you to leave me alone.”
His grin widened, an almost smug look settling on his face as he tilted his head. “Well, I’ve been following you around long enough to realize something. You may not fear death, but there’s one thing I know for sure—you can’t escape it. So why bother running from me when you know it’s only a matter of time?”
You blinked again, incredulous. “Are you seriously trying to make a philosophical point right now?”
Casper shrugged, his hands still firmly on your shoulders as if anchoring you to this moment. “Maybe. Or maybe I’m just here to remind you that I am the one who holds your fate.” His voice dropped slightly, a glint of something darker behind his words. “I don’t forget easily, you know.”
You felt the weight of his words settle in, but just as quickly, you pushed them aside. You were done with his games, done with the feeling that something or someone was always lurking. “If you're so hell-bent on being a problem, why don't you just leave me alone? I’m trying to have a normal night, for once.”
Casper raised an eyebrow, amusement flickering across his features. “Normal? Now that’s a word I never thought I’d hear from you.”
You sighed in exasperation. “Look, I’m really not in the mood for this. I’m here for work. Not whatever you’re trying to pull.”
He didn’t let go of you, though, his grip still firm. “Fine, but remember—death has a way of creeping in when you least expect it. And I’m still here. Watching. Waiting.”
You rolled your eyes again, pushing past him this time. “Yeah, yeah. Just... stay out of my way, okay? I've got a job to do.”
Casper didn’t follow you immediately. Instead, he stood there, his eyes flicking to you as you walked away. You could almost feel the weight of his gaze on your back as you made your way to the bar, shaking off his presence as best you could.
You were tired of this—tired of him. But deep down, some strange, unsettling part of you knew he wouldn’t leave until he got what he wanted.
With a sigh, you returned to your boss with the drinks, trying to keep a calm exterior. You handed her the glass, and she gave you a knowing look, a small smile curving her lips. "How’s your night going?" she asked, clearly not expecting much but offering the polite conversation anyway.
"Fine," you said, trying to keep your voice light. "Just ready to head--"
"I didn't ask for your life story." Your boss cuts you off.
Right, still a mean bitch, you followed your boss gaze and shifted across the room, scanning the crowd like she was looking for something—someone. You followed her line of sight, and for the briefest moment, your heart sank in your chest.
It was him.
Casper.
He was moving through the crowd, his pale skin glowing under the lights and his white hair catching the spotlight, almost unnatural in its radiance. And those red wine-colored eyes, always gleaming with a mischievous, almost predatory look. Of course, it had to be him.
You could feel the pit in your stomach grow. What the hell did he want now?
Before you could process it, your boss turned to you with that knowing smile again. "Do you know him? He’s heading this way."
You blinked, trying to ignore the uneasy feeling settling in your chest. "I… I think I’ve seen him around," you said, trying to keep your composure. But what the hell was he doing here?
Casper approached, his eyes locking onto yours as if he’d found the perfect prey. He was still dressed in that tailored black suit with the red tie, the sharp contrast of his appearance only making his otherworldly presence that much more noticeable. He didn’t even look like he belonged here, but there he was, standing in front of you.
Your boss, always the social butterfly, didn’t miss a beat. She extended her hand toward him with a bright, professional smile. “Good evening. It’s lovely to meet you. You’re so handsome.”
You felt a knot tighten in your stomach. You didn’t want to look, didn’t want to pay attention to the way she so easily interacted with him, the way she was completely unaware of the chaos that had been following you around.
But you couldn’t look away.
Casper gave her a smile that was all teeth. “Thank you, t’s a pleasure my name is… well, Casper,” he said smoothly, his voice like honey, deep and smooth, with a hint of mystery lacing every word. “I’ve heard a lot about you from your pretty assistant.”
“Oh really?” Your boss mumbled before looking at you.
Your eyes darted away, feeling the weight of the conversation that was unfolding around you. You weren’t quite sure what was happening, but you couldn’t deny that this was the last thing you wanted. You just wanted to get through the night without him stealing the spotlight.
“Casper,” your boss repeated, impressed, glancing at you as if waiting for some sort of confirmation. “So… which agencies you work at?”
"Agencies…?" Casper questioned, a little lost.
Oh no. Of course. How did you not see it before? The polished look, the charm, the smoothness to his every move—it was all so damn calculated. In your boss eyes, this wasn’t just some random guy trailing you like a ghost.
Casper has model features.
His facial features are close to the famous model standing, no less. You can already imagine his face in the glossy magazines scattered around the fashion industry. The sleek white hair, those eyes like liquid wine… the boyish charm that made him almost impossible to ignore.
"Aren’t you a model?" Your boss asked.
Casper’s smile widened, "Oh no I am not a model, but I sometimes do simple shoots when Halloween comes around,” he answered, his voice dripping with that signature smugness.
Your boss’s eyes widened at his words. Impossible. Simple was an understatement. He definitely have the potential to become one of the it models, the ones with major campaigns and ad spreads.
"I see," your boss said, her eyes practically sparkling as she examined Casper. "Well, I'm sure you're used to all the attention by now, but I must say, you're quite a striking presence, Casper." Her words were laced with a polite admiration that made you want to roll your eyes, but you restrained yourself, knowing better than to interrupt.
Casper gave another smile that seemed to gleam with just a hint of amusement, the edges of his mouth curling like he knew exactly what she was thinking.
Your boss glanced over at the growing crowd, spotting a few more important figures she needed to greet. "Well, I’ll leave you two to chat," she said, offering a gracious smile before turning to walk off. "Enjoy your night, but—" She paused, her voice dropping to a whisper just for you.
"Give him our card. Get him on board as a main model for the department. If he says no..." She stares at you, looking at you up and down.
You knew that damn look, however still, your mouth almost opened to protest, to shake your head and tell her you weren’t about to turn Casper into some kind of marketing tool. But she was already walking away, leaving you standing there, feeling like a pawn in her strategic little game.
The words died on your tongue. Fuck.
And just like that, your night—your whole world, really—had shifted. The man who had been haunting your every move for months, who had lurked in the shadows, was now casually interacting with your boss like it was the most normal thing in the world.
And you? You were standing there, trying desperately to ignore the knot that had formed in your stomach, trying to pretend that you weren’t feeling the flicker of dread creeping up your spine.
Casper, of course, noticed. He always did. His gaze, sharp and calculating, met yours. It was like he could see right through you, dissecting the unease that you couldn’t hide.
His voice, soft and almost teasing, cut through the air. "Did you think I was just an average looking grim reaper?" he asked, that ever-present edge of amusement in his tone, the smile tugging at the corners of his lips. "You should've known better."
You couldn’t help the exasperated sigh that escaped you. You rolled your eyes, trying to keep your irritation at bay. "No, I didn’t think you were just an average looking grim reaper," you said flatly, your voice tinged with annoyance. "But I definitely didn’t expect you to fit fucking model capabilities, especially to my damn boss."
Casper laughed, the sound rich and deep like he was enjoying the frustration he’d caused. He leaned in just slightly, enough to invade your space, but not enough to make you flinch. "Well, life—or rather, the afterlife—has a funny way of surprising you, doesn’t it?"
You fought the urge to smirk or, worse, to smack him. It wasn’t that you were scared of him—not anymore—but there was something about the way he existed that made your skin crawl in all the wrong ways.
Everything about him was wrong in an almost alluring way—though you’d never dare admit it. He had become a constant, vexing presence in your life, and not even a career-defining event could grant you reprieve.
Worse still? You were already suspected you might never be free of him. Not after your boss all but sealed your fate—secure him, or lose everything.
Now, you were playing this so-called ‘game’ on his terms, with his one outrageous demand: your soul. Right… he wanted your soul. But you? You had your sights set on something far more valuable—
Him.
Like might as well, he’s the one haunting you almost every day following you everywhere like a ghost with unfinished business. He practically owes you because your boss now wants him as a model only adds to the complexity. You were caught between your duty to your job and your growing, almost morbid fascination with the very reaper who’d been plaguing your life.
It was almost insanely perfect, really. Like the gods curse you.
You had to work with him, which meant you'd get more time to study him, and more chances to draw him into your orbit.
“Casper,” you said one evening as the two of you now stood near the bar at the event, his eyes glinting with an almost predatory curiosity as he watched you. "You know, I’ve been thinking. You’d be perfect for this project. The department would love you."
He cocked his head, clearly intrigued. “I thought I was just a ghost to you.”
You smiled, a little too sweetly. “I never said you were just a ghost. I’m just... very interested in how you can be so tangible and untouchable at the same time.” You tilted your head, leaning in ever so slightly. “You’ve got an aura. An energy that’s... rare. And I know people in the fashion industry love rare.”
He blinked at you, still unsure of what you were getting at. “So, you want me to become a model?”
You nodded, “Yes. My boss is already interested, and she’s the one who handles all the big connections. If you want to make a name for yourself, this is your chance.”
Casper, for all his otherworldly knowledge, still couldn’t quite fathom how things worked in this world. He was too used to being the one who took, not gave. His eyes narrowed as if trying to gauge whether you were being honest or playing some game.
“You think I need your help to get noticed?” he asked, voice low and almost amused. But there was that glimmer of something—doubt, maybe?—flickering behind his gaze.
“Well,” you said, holding his gaze with unwavering confidence. “You can get noticed any company, sure. But this? This would be the perfect opportunity. I can guarantee you’ll get all the attention you want. And... you’ll get what you want, too.”
He seemed to weigh your words, his expression thoughtful. He hadn’t expected you to play into his desire for influence, for control. He hadn’t realized how much you were feeding into his need for validation—something he desperately craved but didn’t understand.
“All right, then,” he said after a moment, his tone almost too eager. “But you’ll have to promise me something in return.”
You raised an eyebrow, intrigued. “Oh?”
His red eyes gleamed. “When done with this little ‘becoming a model’—you’ll give me your soul, right? After all, I’ll have given you what you need for your boss.” He smirked, clearly thinking he had you cornered.
You sighed, “We'll see,” you said, that familiar, dangerous smile of yours creeping onto your lips. “Maybe there’s something else you’ll want more than my soul.”
Casper blinked, clearly thrown by your words. “Like what…?”
You rolled your eyes, you were already moving on to the next part of your plan. In the back of your mind, you knew the final step was going to be the hardest, but seriously, this?
You had to work with Casper—the Casper.
Again, the one who’d been haunting you for months. The one who’d made your life a walking nightmare in every way possible. And now, thanks to your boss's questionable decision-making skills, you became his assistant.
Your job, as if the universe wasn’t already laughing in your face, was to make sure everything went perfectly for him—fix his hair, calm his ridiculously over-inflated ego, and handle all the tiny, soul-crushing details that kept his modeling career afloat. Because, of course, who better to trust with all that than someone who literally hates their life?
You could barely look at him without feeling the urge to strangle him—or worse, do something far more dangerous, like giving into the strange pull he had over you. From the moment you started working for him, your patience had been put through the wringer. It wasn’t just that he was difficult—no, that would’ve been manageable.
It was the way he acted like you owed him something, like catering to his every whim was just an unspoken part of your job description. His arrogance knew no bounds, and every time he had to interact with someone—whether it was the stylist, the makeup artist, or literally anyone else—he made sure they knew how much of an inconvenience they were. A scoff here, an eye roll there. Like the whole world was wasting his precious time.
But nothing got under your skin more than his insistence that you had to be the one to do everything for him.
Today was a vampire-themed shoot that should’ve been straightforward. The concept was classic—dark, brooding, seductive. And Casper?
He was practically made for it. With his porcelain skin, blood-red eyes, and stark white hair, he already looked like he stepped out of a gothic novel. Under the dim studio lighting, he was equally ethereal and unnerving—the perfect blend of beauty and danger.
But, of course, things couldn’t be that easy.
First, he flat-out refused to let anyone else touch him. No stylists, no makeup artists—no one. And why? Because of his Probability Reaper abilities. As if one misplaced brush stroke or a stray hairpin would suddenly send someone to an early grave.
So, naturally, he demanded you do everything.
“Come here, you,” he said, his voice deep, almost a growl as he fixed his gaze on you. “I need the blood on my lips. Don’t just stand there. I’m waiting.”
You gritted your teeth, resisting the urge to tell him where he could shove his demands. You had work to do. "Fine," you muttered under your breath, moving toward him.
You could feel his eyes on you as you prepared the fake blood, the sticky red substance almost too realistic for comfort.
Your fingers brushed against his soft lips, and for a second, you almost forgot what you were doing. His eyes, as always, locked onto yours, and for a fleeting moment, you could see something in them—something dangerous.
A hunger.
It was the same pull. The same unsettling feeling that had haunted you since the day you first met him. But now, in such close proximity, with his breath mixing with yours, you couldn’t ignore it. His stare burned into your skin like a brand, making the hairs on the back of your neck stand up.
You quickly finished the task, wiping your hands off with a towel, keeping your gaze away from him. The last thing you needed was to fall for whatever it was he was doing to you. You were already playing with fire. You didn't need to get burned.
Casper, however, was not deterred by your coolness. He leaned in, looking at you with an intensity that made your heart skip a beat. "You know," he said, his voice low and teasing, "there’s something about the way you touch me... something different. Why is that?"
You swallowed, suddenly aware of how close he was. His lips—still stained with fake blood—were just a few inches away from yours. The faintest of smiles tugged at the corners of his mouth. "I'm just doing my job," you replied, trying to keep your tone steady.
But it didn’t work. His smile only grew, and for a second, you could see that strange glint in his eyes—the same one you had seen in his otherworldly stare when he first encountered you. The one that made you think he was far more dangerous than any of the spirits you’d dealt with in your life.
“Mm,” he hummed, the sound vibrating in his chest as he stepped even closer. His breath was warm against your face, his presence suffocating in a way that you couldn't ignore. "I don’t believe you."
You straightened, quickly distancing yourself. “Just finish the damn shoot, Casper. That’s all I’m here for.”
Before you could take another breath, he moved.
One second, you were standing firm, refusing to let him pull you in. The next? His hands gripped your waist, and with a smooth, effortless motion, he pulled you down onto his lap.
A startled gasp left your lips, but before you could protest, Casper’s arms settled around you—firm but unhurried, like he had all the time in the world. His crimson eyes gleamed with quiet amusement as he looked up at you, his head tilted just slightly as if studying a particularly intriguing puzzle.
“You’re acting so different today,” he murmured, his voice low, almost thoughtful. “I can sense it. Why?”
You stiffened. Another question. The weight of his gaze pinned you in place, more binding than his actual hold on you. His grip wasn’t tight, wasn’t forceful—but it didn’t need to be. His presence alone was enough to escape feel pointless.
Your lips parted, but no words came. What could you even say? That you didn’t know why? That you didn’t want to know? That some part of you had already accepted whatever this was, even as you kept pretending to fight it?
Casper hummed, one hand lazily tracing patterns against your hip, his other resting at the small of your back. Not quite pulling you closer, not quite letting you go.
Just holding you there, perfectly trapped.
"You don’t even realize it, do you?" His voice was almost amused, but there was something beneath it—something dangerous, something interesting.
Your fingers curled into the fabric of his shirt, instinct screaming at you to push him away.
You didn’t.
"I’m just here to do my job," you forced out, trying to sound firm, unaffected.
Casper’s smirk deepened, his head tilting even more like you’d just said something hilarious. "Job, huh?" His voice was silky smooth, laced with quiet mockery. "I think you’re much more than that, don’t you?"
Your heart pounded.
He was too close. Too steady. Too unbothered, like he had already figured something out that you hadn’t.
You grit your teeth, every fiber of your being screaming for control. You refused to let him drag you into this—to make you want whatever twisted game he was playing.
“Just finish your damn job, Casper,” you snapped, trying to shift your weight, to push away from him. But his hands—so annoyingly casual—didn’t let you move far.
“Am I stopping you?” he asked, all false innocence, all easy confidence. His grip didn’t tighten, didn’t turn forceful. But somehow, that made it worse.
"Yes," You glared at him.
His smirk only widened. And then, slowly, deliberately, he leaned in—just enough that you could feel his breath ghosting over your skin. “We’ll see how long you can keep up that act,” he murmured, his voice like silk over a blade.
You wrenched yourself away, standing up fast, putting space between you two before you could do something reckless—something stupid. But as you turned, forcing yourself to focus, to shove this encounter into the back of your mind, one unsettling thought refused to leave you.
Who was really haunting who?
Turns out it can. As more news hits you like a slap to the face, leaving behind a sting of disbelief.
Apparently, Casper’s modeling career—something you still found utterly ridiculous—required both you and your boss to be flown out with him for a series of shoots in another city. You barely had time to process the logistics of it all before your boss, looking far too smug about this, handed you your flight details with a cheery “Try not to kill each other.”
As if that was even an option.
The moment you boarded the plane, fate decided to drive the knife deeper.
Your assigned seat? Right next to Casper.
You shot a glare at your boss as she strolled past, completely unaffected by your suffering. She met your glare with a saccharine smile and an enthusiastic thumbs-up before settling into her own seat several rows ahead.
Traitor.
Casper, of course, looked completely unbothered, the very picture of laziness as he slumped into his seat. One leg stretched out in front of him, arms crossed over his chest, head tilted back like he was already seconds from slipping into a nap. If not for the way his white hair fell perfectly into place, he could’ve been mistaken for some overworked businessman instead of a supernatural menace in designer clothing.
You exhaled through your nose, scowling as you sank into your seat and buckled your belt. The flight hadn’t even taken off yet, and you were already bracing yourself for hours of pure torture.
The first stretch of the flight was silent. Almost too silent.
You weren’t sure if that was better or worse than his usual taunting. Normally, Casper never shut up, always had some smug remark, some sharp-edged teasing that made your patience fray like an overused thread. But right now? Right now, he was quiet.
And that was unsettling in itself.
Halfway through the flight, when the hum of the plane had lulled most passengers into a light doze, Casper cracked one eye open and glanced at you.
“You’re tense, mortal.” His voice was a low murmur, just enough to cut through the ambient noise.
You clenched your jaw. “And you’re breathing in my direction. We all have problems.”
Casper smirked, a lazy, knowing thing, but—for once—he didn’t push.
The moment you landed, exhaustion settled deep into your bones. You were already dreading the next few days—watching Casper glide through his modeling shoots like he owned the damn world, dealing with your boss’s usual demands, and trying not to lose your mind in the process. But just as you thought you could catch a moment of peace, your boss hit you with yet another bombshell.
“You and Casper are sharing a hotel room.”
You blinked at her, your brain stuttering to a halt. “…Come again?”
She sighed, rubbing her temples like she was already so over this conversation before it had even started. “Look, the agency only booked so many rooms. You’ll have separate bedrooms, and there’s a bathroom in between. You’ll live.”
You wanted to argue. Oh, you wanted to scream that you had already spent far too much time being haunted by this insufferable bastard. That you didn’t want to be anywhere near him, let alone sleeping under the same damn roof.
Instead, you swallowed the frustration in your throat, forced yourself to inhale slowly through your nose, and settled for a tight, clipped: “Okay.”
Not like you had a choice.
The hotel was sleek and modern, all glass and polished stone, the kind of place that oozed luxury in a way that made you instantly wary. As the car pulled up to the front entrance, your boss was already rattling off instructions, barely sparing you or Casper a glance as she rifled through her phone.
“All right,” she said, stepping onto the curb with the efficiency of someone who had a million things to do and no time to waste. “You’re also in charge of keeping an eye on Casper.”
You stiffened, already knowing exactly where this was going. “Excuse me?”
She finally looked up at you, arching a brow. “I need him to be well-rested and not a menace before the shoot. That’s your job now. Make sure he’s taken care of, make sure he’s on time, and for the love of all that is holy, make sure he doesn’t get arrested or something.”
You opened your mouth to argue but immediately shut it when she held up a hand. “Nope. Don’t wanna hear it. I have a million things to handle, and I need you to be the responsible one.” She paused, then gave you a flat look. “Which, let’s be honest, is a low-effort achievement compared to him.”
Next to you, Casper hummed in amusement. “I feel like that was an insult.”
“It was,” she replied without missing a beat.
Casper didn’t seem the least bit offended. In fact, he looked downright pleased with himself. You fought the urge to rub your temples, already feeling the tension knotting in your skull.
“And,” your boss continued, ignoring Casper entirely, “I need you to set my schedule for tomorrow’s shoot. I want everything organized before I wake up. Call time, location details, wardrobe check—everything. Understood?”
You sighed, already resigning yourself to your fate. “Yeah. Got it.”
“Good.” She shoved a keycard into your hand before giving Casper a sharp look. “And you. Try not to be difficult.”
Casper smirked, tilting his head like he was considering it. “No promises.”
Your boss exhaled sharply, pinching the bridge of her nose before muttering something under her breath about ‘getting paid way too little for this’— even though she clearly gets paid enough—and stalking off toward the lobby.
Which left you and Casper standing at the curb, luggage in tow, facing the inevitable.
Casper turned to you, expression unreadable. “So. Roommates, huh?”
You exhaled slowly, staring up at the towering hotel before you. “Kill me.”
Casper’s voice rang out behind you, amusement clear in his tone. “You know you can’t actually be killed, right?”
You didn’t even turn around to respond, just kept walking toward the entrance.
“You’re really getting into this whole ‘mortal’ act,” he continued, his footsteps echoing behind you. “You’re not fooling anyone.”
You shot him a glance over your shoulder, your patience already running thin. “I swear, Casper, if you don’t stop talking, I’m going to do something you won’t be able to come back from.”
He laughed, the sound of it too rich, too knowing. “That’s cute. But you forget—I’m already dead.”
“Lucky you,” you muttered, your tone dry.
You and Casper stood in front of the shared hotel room, the silence between you two heavier than usual. You pushed the door open, the creaking sound echoing louder than necessary in the hallway. It was a strange kind of awkward tension, made worse by the fact that, well, you were stuck with him.
You sank into the couch, trying to distance yourself from his relentless, spectral presence. The exhaustion of the day—of the flight, the absurdity of it all—was settling deep into your bones, but you couldn’t relax. Not with him there. Not with that constant, oppressive, ghostly aura hanging over you like a storm cloud.
And then, of course, he had to go and speak.
“I need a bath,” Casper said casually, as if you didn’t have better things to do than cater to him.
You looked at him like he had just asked you to conjure up a hot tub out of thin air. “What?” you said, disbelief curling in your voice.
He didn’t seem bothered by your reaction. His red eyes flickered with something approaching amusement, though it was tinged with that ever-present arrogance.
“Come on, mortal,” he said, that ghostly smirk creeping up on his face. “You’re my caretaker now. My personal attendant. Run me a bath.”
Your jaw tightened, and you just stared at him. No way. He’d lost his damn mind. What was this? Some twisted, afterlife spa day?
“You have got to be kidding me,” you muttered, your voice low with irritation. “What, you seriously expect me to run you a bath?” You shook your head, giving him a flat look. “I’m not about to sit here and wash the grime off a literal Grim Reaper.”
His gaze remained unwavering. “Do you... do you know who you're talking to right now?” he said, his voice dripping with an insufferable calmness. “I’m a reaper. You’re the mortal. That means you have to do these things.”
You felt your eye twitch in frustration. “Oh, I know exactly who you are, Grimmy,” you bit back. “You’re the one who’s been haunting me, stealing my soul, and generally making my life a living hell. And now you think I’m gonna be your personal attendant?” You scoffed, pushing yourself upright. “I’ve been through way too much dealing with you, and you want me to play your personal spa assistant? Not happening.”
Casper didn’t even flinch. If anything, he seemed completely unbothered, as if he was entitled to this. "You are the mortal here," he continued, unfazed. "It's your responsibility, like your boss said." He shot you that superior, ghostly smirk that was quickly becoming the bane of your existence.
Your patience? Gone. You stared at him, wide-eyed. "No. I'm really gonna need you to rethink that request, Grimmy," you said, your voice rising in irritation. "You're a reaper! You don’t need a bath! This isn’t some weird form of grim hygiene—what is this, an existential crisis?”
Casper didn’t look at you like you were crazy. In fact, he tilted his head slightly, his expression almost... annoyed. “Maybe it’s a reminder,” he murmured under his breath, as though he wasn’t entirely aware he was speaking out loud.
“A reminder: the more you drag on giving me your soul, the more problems I’ll cause for you.”
You blinked, processing his words for a moment. Was he actually being serious?
Ohhh that little shit…
“Well, I’m sorry, Casper,” you said, forcing a smile, “but this mortal is going to pass on the whole bath-running service.” You stood up, stretching, as if you were done with this conversation, mentally checking out. “You’re on your own for that one.”
Casper’s red eyes never left you, though his smirk faded just slightly, as if he couldn’t quite figure you out.
And maybe, just maybe, that was the point.
“Why do you fight me so much?” Casper’s voice cut through the silence, low and prying—way too calm for your liking. “Mortal women usually like me, fall over heels for me, but you don’t. It’s confusing.”
You didn’t answer right away. Instead, you buried your face deeper into the couch pillow, letting out a long, exhausted sigh, like maybe—just maybe—you could breathe out all the frustration clinging to you.
But of course, he wasn’t done. Casper had a way of getting all weird and philosophical when you least had the patience for it.
“I’ve been thinking about it, you know… taking your soul. At this point, is it even worth it?” He paused, then kept going. “I mean, I’ve spent months following you around, became your boss’s model just to stay close, watched you. And now I’m wondering—what does taking your soul actually do for me? Will it fix whatever this thing is that I’m feeling? Or am I just throwing myself into something I can’t undo?”
You didn’t even bother lifting your head. The pillow smelled like expensive hotel fabric—clean, crisp, and utterly unhelpful. You stared at it, brain a mess of exhaustion and irritation, before mumbling,
“I don’t know, Casper. I really don’t.”
For a while, there was only the quiet hum of the air conditioner, Casper’s weight in the room pressing down on you like a physical force. You could feel him standing there, his presence looming like a shadow—waiting for some kind of profound answer, something deep and insightful that could resolve this bizarre conversation he was having with himself.
But you weren’t in the mood for any of it. You were too tired to be dragged into his metaphysical crisis. Too tired to get lost in the strange dark depths of his soul-stealing philosophy.
“I don’t want to be part of your existential crisis,” you groaned into the pillow, the words muffled by fabric. “I’m just trying to survive my days here, man. The job. The constant stuff. You’re the last thing I need to get tangled up in right now.”
You could feel his eyes on you then. It was that burning sensation on your back, like lasers boring into your skin. You didn’t need to look up to know that he was watching you closely, trying to read into your words, trying to figure out if you were being sarcastic or if there was something deeper beneath the surface.
But honestly?
You couldn’t care less right now.
The mental exhaustion was starting to hit, and all you wanted was some peace. His gaze was intense, unwavering, but still, you refused to meet it, your eyes still locked on the pillow. You could practically hear the wheels turning in his head as he processed your response, the gears of his mysterious, otherworldly mind working overtime to make sense of you.
“Well,” he finally said, breaking the silence, his voice softer this time, “maybe you're right. Maybe I'm just... looking for something I can't have." There was a strange tone in his voice, almost as if he was talking to himself as much as he was talking to you.
A little defeated, a little introspective.
Again, you didn’t say anything. Instead, you closed your eyes, hoping for sleep to come quickly, to shut out the weight of Casper’s presence and the endless swirl of thoughts he always left behind in his wake. Because no matter what he was trying to figure out about himself, you weren’t interested in being part of the puzzle.
And yet, deep down, you couldn’t help but wonder: what would he do if he actually figured himself out? Would he finally stop haunting you? Or would it just be another twist in this strange, never-ending game he was playing to claim your soul…?
You didn’t have the patience to unravel that mess. You had your own problems, after all. You were an adult—an assistant, no less. Work, deadlines, dealing with people who barely remembered your name, including your boss.
Your life had become a monotonous grind of early mornings and late nights, filled with coffee-fueled exhaustion and half-hearted pleasantries. You kept your head down, you smiled when necessary, and you pretended that everything was fine.
Your world had been mundane. Easy. Quiet. Predictable.
And now? You had a Grim Reaper hovering over your shoulder, stuck in some kind of self-inflicted moral dilemma about whether or not he should rip your soul from your body. Like some whiny, undead philosopher who thought way too hard about his own existence.
The absurdity of it all weighed on you, pressing down like a heavy blanket of fatigue. A whole-ass harbinger of death, a supernatural entity, was following you around like a lost puppy, struggling with his own version of a midlife crisis.
And somehow, somehow, you were the one stuck dealing with it.
It was ridiculous.
And then, out of nowhere, a song popped into your head—one that fit the mood a little too well.
All the people on the planet
Working 9 to 5 just to stay alive
How come?
The lyrics lingered in your mind, an unspoken anthem to the exhaustion of existence. Because wasn’t that all life was? A constant, never-ending loop of work and survival, of pretending everything was fine when it really, really wasn’t?
And now, even death itself was standing in your hotel room, trying to work through some kind of ghostly identity crisis. Without thinking, the words slipped out before you could stop them.
“What goes up, ghost around…” You blinked.
Oh. Oh, no.
Did you—did you just make a pun about Casper?
Your lips parted slightly as the realization sank in, horror slowly creeping up your spine. This was it. You had officially lost your mind. The universe had thrown a scythe-wielding, existentially confused Grim Reaper into your life, and instead of screaming or running away, you were making stupid puns.
You were so done. Done with the constant noise in your head, the pressure, the irritation of dealing with someone who thought he could just waltz into your life like some smug, otherworldly nuisance. You were exhausted—physically, mentally, spiritually—and if you had to put up with his antics for one more second, you were going to start throwing things.
Yeah. No. You needed a bath.
You slowly get up and head straight for the bathroom. Casper, ever the uninvited, followed right behind. “Where are we going?” he asked, like he had any right to be included in this plan.
You didn’t even bother looking back. “I am going to take a bath. You are going to sit your ass somewhere else and leave me alone.”
Predictably, he ignored the very clear boundary you just set. “Oh, perfect, I need a bath, too.”
You stopped in your tracks in the bathroom doorway, slowly turning to face him. He looked entirely too pleased with himself, hands in his pockets, head tilted just enough to be infuriating. “Casper,” you said, voice dangerously calm.
“Yes?”
“Get. Out.”
His smirk twitched. “Now, hold on, why—”
Before he could even think about arguing, you grabbed the nearest object—a rolled-up towel—and launched it at him. He barely dodged, laughing like this was the funniest thing in the world, but you weren’t in the mood. You shoved him back. He barely stumbled—damn grim reflexes—but before he could retaliate, you slammed the bathroom door in his face and locked it for good measure.
A satisfied exhale left your lips. Peace. Finally.
You turned toward the tub, already feeling the tension in your body start to loosen at the thought of just sinking into hot water and pretending the world—and annoying grim reapers didn’t exist. You twisted the faucet on, letting the steam rise as the tub filled, the sound of water rushing over the porcelain drowning out any lingering frustration.
Shedding the rest of your clothes, you stepped in, the heat instantly soothing every worn-out nerve in your body. You let yourself sink lower, eyes slipping shut, breathing in the faint scent of whatever overpriced bath soak you grabbed last time you were at the store.
For the first time in what felt like forever, you were alone. No reapers. No stress. No existential crises. Just you, the water, and—
Knock knock.
Your head snapped toward the door, eyes narrowing. “…You’re not drowning, right?” Casper’s muffled voice called from the other side. “Because that would be kinda ironic.”
You groaned, sliding lower into the water until it covered your ears. You were never going to be rid of him, were you? However, then silence on the other side of the door stretched on. Five minutes passed.
Casper had finally given up. Good.
You exhaled slowly, leaning your head back against the edge of the tub, your brows furrowing as the stress still lingered—coiled deep in your muscles, settled in the pit of your stomach like a weight that wouldn’t budge.
Maybe… just maybe.
The water cradled you, heavy with warmth, lapping lazily against your skin as you sank deeper into the tub. You felt the heat seeped into your muscles, loosening the tightness coiled between your shoulders, and you let out a slow breath, your arms sliding around yourself in a loose embrace.
Your arms slid around yourself, fingers dragging slowly over your collarbones, down your shoulders. Damn, you were tense. ‘Like, why-are-my-muscles-made-of-concrete tense.’ But the heat was working its magic, loosening things up one knot at a time. You pressed your thumbs into the tight spots, hissing a little at the ache before it melted into something softer.
You lingered there for a moment, pressing into the knots along your neck, kneading with slow, deliberate circles until the tension began to unravel, the water was perfect—hot enough to turn your skin red, but not so scalding that it hurt. You sank deeper, letting it wrap around you like a lazy hug, the steam rising in little curls.
Lavender, honey, whatever fancy shit was in this bath bomb—it smelled good, like one of those expensive spas you’d never actually pay to visit.
Legs propped up on the edge of the tub, you let one hand drift under the water, skimming over your stomach and your hips. The other lazily traced circles on your arm, catching droplets as they rolled down. Everything felt smoother in the water—your skin, your movements, even your thoughts, which were finally, finally shutting the hell up for once.
No grim reaper lurking like a weirdo. No stress tapping its fingers against your skull. Just you, the warmth, and the quiet slosh of water every time you shifted as one hand drifted down your arm, fingertips tracing the droplets clinging to your skin, while the other slipped beneath the surface, palm gliding over your stomach, lower, lower—until your fingers found the soft, slick heat between your thighs.
No rush. No urgency.
Just the slow, experimental drag of your touch, tracing idle circles over your clit, already swollen with anticipation. The water made everything smoother, your fingers gliding effortlessly as you teased yourself, testing pressure speed—each movement sending little shocks of pleasure radiating outward.
Your breath hitched, lips parting as you arched slightly, the water lapping at your ribs. The warmth of the bath only heightened the sensation, your skin hypersensitive, every brush of your fingertips electric. You let yourself explore—gentle at first, then firmer, your hips shifting just enough to chase the friction.
A sigh escaped you, head tipping back against the rim of the tub, eyes fluttering shut, and let out a long breath. Fuck, when was the last time you just… existed like this?
No overthinking, no distractions. Just your hands on your own skin, slow and unhurried, like you had all the time in the world.
You were so close to a stress-free moment—just you, the hot water, and your fingers working slow, teasing circles over your clit, already throbbing from the buildup. The bath made everything slick, and effortless, your touch gliding just right as you tested the pressure, the speed, biting your lip when a particularly good stroke sent a shiver up your spine.
Your breath hitched, hips lifting slightly, water sloshing as you arched two fingers inside you. Fuck, it felt good. The heat of the bath, the way your skin tingled, hypersensitive—every brush of your fingers sent little sparks racing through you. You let yourself get lost in it, touch growing firmer, more deliberate, chasing that sweet, mounting tension.
Then—of fucking course—your mouth betrayed you.
“Casper…” You moan. Fuck, Casper??
The absolute nerve of your subconscious to drag him into this. The guy who’d been stressing you out all damn day, and now here he was, lurking in the back of your mind like an uninvited guest. You groaned, half in frustration, half in reluctant amusement. Really? Now?
You tried to shake it off, fingers never stopping their rhythm, refusing to let him ruin this too. But the thought lingered, stubborn as hell, mixing with the pleasure in a way that was equal parts irritating and—okay, fine—kind of hot.
"Ugh, whatever," you muttered to no one, giving in just a little. If your brain wanted to play that game, fine. You’d let the frustration fuel you, turning the tension he’d caused into something better. Your strokes got sharper and needier, your free hand gripping the edge of the tub as you chased the release that had been just out of reach all day.
The way your body tensed and then melted beneath your touch, the steady rhythm of your fingers, deeper until your thighs trembled.
You took your time, dragging it out, letting the tension coil tighter with every deliberate stroke. Your breath hitched, coming faster now, lips parted as you sank deeper into the sensation. The warm water lapped at your skin, rippling with each subtle movement, muffling the quiet, needy sounds that slipped past your lips despite your best efforts.
And when it finally crashed over you—heat flooding through your limbs, pleasure cresting in slow, shuddering waves—you let out a breathless, almost disbelieving laugh. Figures. Even in your own damn climax, he was still lingering in the back of your mind.
That asshole.
“What are you doing, Mortal?”
You practically launched out of the tub.
Water sloshed violently over the edge as you jerked upright, your entire body going rigid with shock. Your heart nearly exploded in your chest as you snapped your head toward the source of the voice—only to see Casper, standing there like some smug little shit, arms crossed over his chest, head tilted in curiosity.
Oh, hell no. How did he get in here??
“WHAT THE FUCK—” You scrambled to grab the nearest thing—your damn loofah—hurling it at his face with as much force as you could muster. Casper barely flinched, the soft thing bouncing off his cheek like a tragic attempt at an attack.
He blinked. “Was that supposed to hurt?”
“YOU’RE NOT SUPPOSED TO BE IN HERE!”
He looked genuinely confused. “But I live here.”
“But I’m in here,” you corrected, voice dripping with exasperation as you pulled your knees up to your chest, trying to salvage what little dignity you had left. “Big fucking difference.”
Casper’s gaze dragged down lazily, and you could feel the heat creeping up your neck. His lips parted slightly, his head tilting like he was putting together a puzzle he hadn’t quite figured out yet.
“I still don’t get it,” he admitted, his voice lower now. “I’ve seen mortals bathe before.”
“Oh my god—” You were going to die. Not from him taking your soul, not from some supernatural battle of wills—no, you were going to die from sheer secondhand embarrassment.
Casper took a slow step forward, and you held up a warning hand. “Do not come any closer.”
He stopped but didn’t look the least bit intimidated. In fact, he looked… intrigued. Like he was enjoying your frustration. Like he knew he had interrupted something and was now just here to be an absolute menace about it.
“You were making noises,” he pointed out, as if you weren’t already fully aware.
You clenched your jaw, your eye twitching. “I was relaxing.”
“Sounded more like suffering.”
“Oh my god...” You inhaled sharply through your nose, resisting the urge to drown yourself just to escape this absolute disaster of a moment. With all the strength of someone barely holding onto their last shred of sanity, you spoke through gritted teeth.
“Casper. I swear to whatever god you believe in if you don’t get out of my bathroom in the next three seconds—”
Casper grinned, taking one step backward—which was not fast enough for your liking. “Or what? You’ll come after me?”
Oh, you hated him.
Casper stood there, the grimmest of grim reapers, with his white hair like fallen ash and those red-wine eyes gleaming with amusement. He was a nightmare in the flesh, a creature that should have inspired fear—should have made you tremble at the very thought of his existence.
Instead, he was standing in the bathroom, casually crumbling what little patience you had left invading your private time, looking at you like you were the strange one.
You wanted to scream. Oh, you wanted to scream.
Maybe throw something. Maybe rip your own hair out. Or better yet, maybe grab him by that infuriatingly perfect collar and shove him straight into the tub, hold him under until all his smug little comments bubbled into silence.
But you didn’t.
Because that would mean ruining your carefully put-together appearance. And worse? It would mean hurting your boss’s prized model—the one person you absolutely could not afford to lay a hand on unless you wanted to kiss your job goodbye.
So instead, you forced yourself to breathe. Slow. Controlled. Fingers tightening around the porcelain edges of the tub like they were the only thing anchoring you to sanity. “Casper,” you said, your voice dipping into something low and dangerous, like a warning before a storm.
“Hm?” That lazy, infuriating hum, like he hadn’t just walked in on you at your most vulnerable.
“Get. Out.”
He tilted his head, looking genuinely—genuinely—confused. “Why?”
You clenched your jaw so hard it could’ve cracked. “Because I am naked and bathing, and you are not supposed to be here.”
He considered that for a long moment. Then, his lips curled into something devious. “Technically, I am supposed to be here. You and I made a deal. I’m supposed to be haunting you for your soul.”
“Then haunt me in literally any other room.”
Casper sighed, dramatic and slow, as if you were the one being unreasonable. “Fine,” he relented, but then—then—he smirked. That smirk, the one that made you want to smack him upside the head. “But just so you know, you really should be quieter. You don’t want your neighbors thinking you’re being murdered in here.”
Fuck this.
You were fuming, seething, gripping the edge of the tub like it was the only thing keeping you from losing your goddamn mind. Your eye twitched so violently that for a second, you swore the entire world flickered—as reality itself had short-circuited under the sheer weight of your frustration.
You had officially had enough.
With seething movements, you pushed yourself up from the bath, water cascading down your skin in slow, glistening trails.
You grabbed the nearest towel, wrapping it around your body without a second thought, the fabric clinging to your damp form as you stepped out of the tub. You barely noticed the chill of the air against your skin. You barely cared.
Casper must have sensed the shift in the air because the moment your foot hit the tile with a sharp, wet slap, his smirk faltered. For the first time since he had started haunting your every waking moment, he looked genuinely unsettled.
His red eyes flickered—uncertainty, hesitation, maybe even a hint of fear. Good. Because you weren’t playing anymore. Before he could get another word in, you were moving. He took a cautious step back, but it was already too late.
Like a force of nature, you stormed toward him, towel clutched tightly around your body, water still dripping from your hair. Casper did the only thing his undead brain could think of—he ran.
Straight out of the bathroom. Oh, hell no.
You chased after him, barreling through the doorway, barely even aware of the way the hallway light flickered as you passed under it.
"Where the fuck do you think you're going?" you growled, the anger burning in your veins hotter than any embarrassment over your current state.
Casper yelped—yelped—as he sprinted down the hall, his long coat billowing behind him in his panic. For someone who literally dealt with death, he sure as hell was scared for his life.
"Now, now, let’s be rational about this!" he called over his shoulder, trying to sound composed, but his voice cracked at the end. Oh, he was scared.
"Rational?!" you scoffed, lunging forward. "You have been tormenting me for months, Casper! Months! And now you wanna talk about being rational?! Oh, no—you don’t get to run from me now!"
You saw the exact moment he realized he was cornered.
Casper skidded to a halt at his bedroom door, scrambling to fling it open. But you were already there, shoving against it just as he tried to slam it in your face.
His eyes were wide, his expression somewhere between shock and sheer terror. “You—you’re unhinged!" he accused, voice going slightly high-pitched.
"You made me this way!" you snapped back, shoving your way inside. He stumbled backward, eyes widening at you before—bam.
Your body crashed into his, sending him stumbling backward onto the bed. You followed without hesitation, climbing over him, straddling his waist, and pinning him beneath you with a force that had him momentarily stunned.
His body was solid beneath yours, colder than you expected due to the whole undead grim reaper thing.
You could feel the slow rise and fall of his chest, his breathing steady but slightly uneven now, like he was processing what just happened.
For the first time, you saw something shift in his expression—not his usual smug amusement, not his lazy arrogance, but something else. Surprise and
Confusion.
His wine-red eyes flickered over your face, searching, calculating. “Well…” His voice was quieter now, almost thoughtful. “I can’t say I saw this coming.”
You leaned in, your face just inches from his, close enough to see the way his lips parted slightly, how his throat bobbed with a slow, almost instinctive swallow. “Good,” you murmured, your voice low, dangerous. “Then maybe, for once, you’ll shut up and listen.”
Casper blinked up at you, the ghost of a smirk still lingering, but his silence—for once—was enough.
“I’m sick and over with you haunting me,” you yelled, dripping with something almost cruel in its amusement. “You think you can just waltz into my life, make my every moment miserable, and I’m supposed to sit back and let you have my soul?”
Casper wasn’t fully listening, like he could feel you—every inch of your body, barely covered by that frustratingly short towel, heat seeping through the thin fabric where it clung to your damp skin. It was a dangerous sight, teetering on the edge of revealing more than it should, and shit—why did a mortal have to be this pretty?
You tilted your head slightly, lips hovering just inches from his, teasing him with the ghost of a touch. “My soul isn’t for sale.”
His breath caught. His usual arrogance wavered, flickering into something less composed. For the first time, you had him unsure. His crimson eyes locked onto yours, and you could practically see the war raging behind them—frustration, fascination, something else he wouldn’t dare name.
“You make this so much harder than it needs to be,” he muttered, his voice laced with that same begrudging admiration, but there was something else, too—something red. His face, his ears, all betraying him as he took in the fire in your expression, the way you pressed against him, holding him down.
His breath hitched as you shifted, the pressure making his thoughts scatter.
“J-Just hand over your soul, and I-I’ll leave,” he stammered, but even he didn’t sound convinced anymore.
The stutter was so obvious; it was almost cute.
“No!” you shouted, your voice sharp with frustration, but that wasn’t even the worst part. The real problem? The unmistakable pressure beneath you. Shit. Right.
You already knew.
A slow, wicked smile curled on your lips as realization settled in.
“You reap what you sow, Casper,” you whispered, your voice nothing but a slow, taunting caress against his skin. You felt the way his entire body tensed, his throat bobbing, fingers twitching like he was fighting the urge to grab you—to do something.
And then? He did move.
With a frustrated growl, he tried to shove you off, his hands gripping your hips, pushing at you in a way that was far too desperate, far too rigid. “G-Get off,” he snapped, his usual cocky arrogance cracking around the edges.
You didn’t budge. Instead, you pressed down just a little more, reveling in the way his breath hitched, the way his grip tightened just a little too much before he forced himself to let go.
“You’re really that eager to run now?” you murmured, tilting your head, watching the way his crimson eyes flickered between frustration and something he really didn’t want you to see.
“I’m not— I just—” His voice faltered, and that was enough to make you lean in closer, pressing your weight down just enough to make him shudder.
“You just what?” you teased, dragging the moment out, letting the heat between you thicken.
His fingers curled into fists, knuckles white. His lips parted, but whatever comeback he had died the second you moved against him, just barely, just enough to feel him really tense beneath you.
“Sh-Shut up,” he muttered, face turning a shade of red that had nothing to do with anger.
Oh, he was trying so hard to hold onto his composure. Trying so hard to shove you away without making it obvious why he needed you to move.
“And if you think I’m just going to hand over my soul…” You trailed off, letting the words dangle between you, thick with implication, like a loaded gun cocked and ready to fire.
Casper swallowed hard, his breath uneven, his self-control slipping—and for all the power he had, for all the ways he had haunted you, he was the one struggling now.
The tables had turned—now you wanted to see just how far you could push him. Because if he had spent all this time tormenting you, refusing to let you go…
Then surely, he must have realized by now—
You gonna haunted him right back.
You leaned down slowly, the space between you two shrinking, the anticipation thickening the air. Your breath mingled with his, a brief, almost electrifying moment before your lips finally met his in a kiss that was anything but gentle.
It wasn’t soft—there was nothing delicate about it.
Your lips pressed onto his with force, firm, almost demanding, as though you were claiming something that was yours to take. Casper’s body stiffened for a moment, caught off guard by the intensity, the possessiveness in your touch. You could feel his hesitation—his confusion. His breath hitched as you deepened the kiss, pressing yourself closer to him, your hand finding its way to his jaw, tilting his face to match the angle of yours.
His lips parted slightly under yours, and you took it as an invitation, pushing forward with more urgency, more need. His warmth was overwhelming, contrasting with the coldness of his existence.
You felt him start to respond, slowly at first, tentative, like he was testing the waters. But the longer you kissed him, the more the tension between you snapped.
He exhaled sharply, his fingers grazing the side of your neck as he finally gave in, his hand tangling in your hair, pulling you deeper into the kiss—the way he started to lean into you, his chest pressing against yours, his movements no longer hesitant but eager, almost desperate.
It was a kiss that felt like something had broken between you two like a barrier had collapsed, and now there was only the fire between you. His lips moved against yours with a hunger that was unfamiliar, unexpected.
When the kiss finally broke, you both pulled back just enough to catch your breath, but neither of you fully separated. His forehead rested against yours, his eyes closed for a beat too long before slowly opening, still hazy, still lost in the aftermath of it all.
You could feel his pulse under your fingertips, erratic, as if it wasn’t just his body reacting, but something deeper—something that couldn’t be ignored.
He didn’t say anything right away, the silence between you two heavy with the weight of what had just transpired. His voice, when it finally came, was low, almost a growl.
“W-Why did you do that…?” he asked, his words wrapped in uncertainty and desire as if he was finally understanding something about the mess between you two but still couldn’t quite make sense of it.
You didn’t answer.
Instead, your fingers lingered on his jaw, tracing the delicate curve of his face, feeling the soft, almost otherworldly smoothness of his skin under your touch. You watched him closely, the way his eyes fluttered shut as he tried to maintain his composure, his breath quickening the longer you stayed close.
But it wasn’t just about that anymore—it wasn’t just about the arrogant, cocky Grim Reaper who had been haunting your thoughts for months.
No, it was something far more complicated now.
You wanted him—all of him.
Slowly, you moved your lips from his to the delicate skin of his neck, your breath warm against him as you kissed the soft spot just below his jaw. The moment your lips made contact with his skin, you felt him tense, his body reacting to your touch in ways that made your pulse quicken.
He let out a quiet gasp, his eyes snapping open as if he wasn’t expecting this. But you could feel it, the way his body betrayed him, how his pulse seemed to spike beneath your lips.
You couldn’t help but press closer, your lips moving along the smooth curve of his neck, slowly, teasingly. You felt him shiver under your touch, his breath hitching sharply. His skin was like silk, but it was warm, almost feverish beneath your lips.
You traced the delicate line of his throat with your mouth, paying attention to the places that made him tremble, the faintest of whimpers escaping him.
The deeper you kissed, the more you felt the tremor in his body, the way he couldn’t quite keep himself steady as your lips and teeth brushed against his sensitive skin.
And then, he couldn’t help it anymore—he let out a deep, strangled whine, a sound so raw, so desperate, it sent a shiver down your spine. It wasn’t the usual sharp, cocky tone he had when he spoke to you—it was something entirely different. His body arched onto yours, his breath coming in shallow gasps as if he was both resisting and wanting at the same time.
“W-What... what are you trying to do with me, mortal?” His voice was thick, almost breathless, the usual arrogance and bravado completely absent now. There was no defiance, no demand for power in his tone. Just confusion.
You paused for a brief second, but you continued your movements, pressing your lips further down his neck, feeling the subtle rise and fall of his chest, the heat of his skin against yours.
He whimpered again, louder this time, and the sound made something inside you stir—a dark satisfaction, a rush of power. He was so vulnerable under your touch, so... alive in a way you hadn’t anticipated.
You pulled back slightly, just enough to look into his eyes, but you kept your hand on his neck, feeling his pulse flutter under your fingertips. His eyes were wide, a mix of emotions swirling in them—confusion, want, fear. His breath was shallow, chest rising and falling erratically as if he wasn’t sure if he was even breathing properly anymore.
It wasn’t long before your kisses trailed down, slow and soft, your lips teasing a path along his now shirtless, impossibly pale chest.
Damn, he really was ghostly white, but soft—way softer than someone who spent all their time being a cocky little shit should be.
You couldn’t help yourself; you bit down lightly, just enough to make him jolt under you. Casper let out this ridiculous, choked noise, half-whimper, half what the fuck was that?! and you grinned against his skin.
Oh, this was going to be fun.
“What—what are you—” he started, but you cut him off with another bite, right over his ribs this time. He actually squirmed beneath you, letting out the deepest whine you’d ever heard from him.
“Would you look at that,” you mused, pressing another kiss just below his collarbone, feeling his muscles tense under your lips. “The big, bad grim reaper’s ticklish.”
Casper’s eyes shot open, his whole face twisting between frustration and pure, unfiltered panic. “I am not—”
You kissed a little lower. He let out a soft gasp.
You snickered. “Ohhh, you so are.”
His hands twitched at his sides like he didn’t know if he should shove you away or pull you closer, and that alone made you even more entertained.
Casper was losing his goddamn mind. You knew it. He knew it. Hell, even the goddamn shadows in the room probably knew it. And you? Oh, you were thriving.
See, for months now, this insufferable bastard had been haunting you—literally and figuratively. He followed you everywhere like a bad omen, made your life a constant, unending hell, toyed with your sanity like it was his favorite pastime, and worst of all?
He had the audacity to be hot while doing it.
You were fed up. You were horny.
And since he was always around, lurking in your damn shadow, you never had a single moment alone to deal with it. No time to take the edge off. No privacy to just breathe without him hovering like he owned the air around you.
And if he was going to keep haunting you relentlessly, refusing to let you have a single second of peace? Because of that, you’d make sure he felt what it was like to be relentlessly pursued—to be hunted the way he had hunted you.
And judging by the way he was struggling beneath you, red-faced, flustered, trying so damn hard to pretend he wasn’t affected?
Oh, he was feeling it all right as your lips pressed slow, lazy kisses along his stomach, dragging out every moment just to watch him squirm.
And oh, was he squirming.
His fingers clenched the sheets so hard you thought they might rip. His breath hitched every time you so much as existed near him. His legs were tense, thighs trembling slightly like his entire undead body was screaming at him to do something. But he couldn’t.
Not with you looking down at him like that. Not with that smug little glint in your eye, knowing full well the power you held over him right now.
“Are you—” His voice cracked so hard you nearly laughed in his face. He swallowed, trying to gather what was left of his composure. “Are you actually trying to kill me right now? Because—because this feels like some kind of cruel revenge plot.”
You tilted your head, feigning innocence. “Me? Oh, Casper… why would I ever do something so cruel?”
Another kiss. Another sharp inhale.
"You are,” he accused breathlessly, his crimson eyes burning into you. “You so are.”
You grinned. “Maybe I’m just trying to make you feel a little… haunted.”
His whole body shuddered. "That’s—That’s not funny."
“Oh, I think it’s hilarious.”
Casper groaned, tossing his head back against the pillow like he was physically suffering. “M-Mortal!” he sputtered, trying to sound authoritative but failing spectacularly.
“You can’t just—You—You can’t have my soul!”
Casper's breath hitched so hard you thought he might choke on it. His fingers curled tighter into the sheets, his entire body going stiff beneath you—frozen, like some helpless animal caught in the path of an oncoming storm.
You tilted your head, eyes narrowing as you watched him squirm. “What do you mean, Casper?”
Your fingers ghosted over the waistband of his pants, playing with the button, teasing but never quite undoing it. His whole body twitched at the contact, his throat bobbing as he swallowed hard.
“I-I mean…” he stammered, eyes darting anywhere but your face, ears tinged an adorable shade of pink. “My—My soul, mortal! That’s what I was talking about! Y-you can't have it! It's mine!”
You paused, blinking at him. And then it clicked.
Oh. Oh. Did he—? Had he been—?
This whole time, when he'd been talking about souls, about taking yours, about you trying to take his… was he actually talking about—?
Honestly, you are a bit lost by his words… but you kept on the act! Your lips curled into a slow, wicked grin. “Oh, Casper…” you purred, pressing down just enough to make him gasp, your fingers still playing at his waistband.
“You’ve been talking about souls this whole time, and yet…” You sighed, “…it sounds like you’ve been asking for something else entirely.”
His entire body jerked like you’d just electrocuted him. “I—I—” His voice cracked so hard you almost felt bad. Almost.
You pulled back slightly, tilting your head at him with mock concern. “Are you sure you meant your soul, Casper? Because…”
Your fingers gave the button of his pants the tiniest little tug. “…from the way you’re acting, it really seems like you meant something else.”
Casper wiggles beneath you then let out a strangled noise somewhere between a whimper and an offended squawk.
“M-MORTAL! I—THAT’S NOT—YOU’RE TWISTING MY WORDS!”
You laughed, soft and velvety, reveling in the way his breath hitched, the way his fingers dug into the sheets like they were the only thing tethering him to reality. His crimson eyes were wide, frantic, darting across your face as if searching for an escape that didn’t exist.
"Am I?" you murmured, letting the words drip from your lips like honey—sweet, slow, dangerous.
“Yes!” he blurted, but his voice wavered, cracking at the edges, betraying him in the most delicious way.
You tilted your head, fingers trailing ever so lightly down his abdomen, feeling the way his muscles tensed beneath your touch. His whole body was wound tight, like he was barely holding himself together. Like he didn’t trust himself to move.
“Then tell me,” you coaxed, your voice barely above a whisper, a soft tease against the thick silence between you. “What is it, Casper?”
Nothing. No response. Just a tense, heavy pause.
And then—so quiet, so wrecked, like it had been dragged from the deepest part of him—
“…Because I think I want you as well, Mortal.”
Oh. Fuck. Like, deadass, that was kinda hot.
Your fingers stilled for just a second, then resumed their slow, torturous circles against his stomach, just barely skimming the skin. Featherlight. Just enough to tease. Just enough to torment.
“You don’t say,” you murmured, letting your nails graze lightly over his skin, watching the way his entire body twitched beneath you. “Such strong words, Casper.”
He sucked in a sharp, ragged breath, his back pressing deeper into the mattress as if he could somehow disappear into it—like it could save him from whatever this was.
But nothing was saving him now. Not from you. shit from me.
Not as the towel around you slipped, the fabric pooling onto the bed like a ghost of hesitation you no longer had.
You could feel the tension coiled in his body, every muscle taut beneath your touch, strung tight between restraint and ruin. His skin burned under your fingertips, feverish, as if he were caught in some exquisite purgatory—unsure whether to arch into your mouth or wrench himself away before he shattered completely.
“W-where will it be?” His voice was raw, stripped down to something fractured and wanting, each word a ragged breath torn from his chest.
You smiled—slow, cruel in its sweetness—letting your lips ghost over the frantic pulse at his throat.
“My tongue?” you murmured, the words dripping like honey, thick and syrupy with promise. You let them linger, let them sink into his skin, let him feel them. “Is that what you want, Casper? My wicked tongue on you?” His cock twitched against your lips, already glistening at the tip—pale, flushed, aching for you.
You could see the pulse of his heartbeat in it, the way his entire body trembled with the effort of holding back.
A shudder wracked through him, violent and helpless. His fingers twisted in the sheets, white-knuckled, like a man clinging to the last fraying thread of his control.
You exhaled, slow and warm, just to watch him squirm.
Then—finally—you pressed a single, lingering kiss to the head, tasting the salt-slick precome beading there. His hips jerked, a choked gasp tearing from his throat, but you held him down with one firm hand on his stomach, fingers splayed possessively over his trembling abdomen.
"Stay still." You ordered, taking him into your mouth with agonizing slowness, letting your tongue swirl lazily around the crown before sinking deeper, inch by torturous inch. His breath hitched, his fingers knotting in your hair—not pushing, just clinging, as if you were the only thing keeping him from drowning.
You hollowed your cheeks, dragging your lips up in a slow, filthy glide before plunging back down, savoring the way his thighs tensed, the way his stomach quivered under your palm.
Every movement was careful, calculated to unravel him—the flick of your tongue along the underside, the teasing scrape of teeth, the way you pulled off just to watch him whimper before swallowing him down again.
His voice was shattered, raw with desperation. "F-fuck—please—"
You hummed around him, the vibration wringing a broken moan from his lips. His grip tightened in your hair, his hips lifting in tiny, involuntary thrusts, but you controlled the pace, keeping it slow, maddening, until every ragged breath he took was your name.
My god—how you loved this—loved the way he unraveled, the way his breath came in sharp, uneven gasps, the way his hips jerked instinctively toward your mouth, betraying him entirely.
You dragged your nails down the sensitive skin of his inner thighs, feather-light, just enough to make him jolt, to pull another broken sound from his lips. His entire body was a live wire, every nerve alight, every tremor yours to command.
When you finally felt him tense, his whole body bowing off the bed, you locked your eyes with his—holding his gaze as you took him deep, deeper, until his release spilled hot and bitter down your throat.
And even then, you didn’t let go.
You milked him through it, lips sealed tight until he was shaking, oversensitive, gasping your name like a prayer. Only then did you pull away, licking your lips with slow, deliberate satisfaction.
"Good little reaper."
The words dripped from your tongue like silk, and just as you watched the shiver roll through him, an idea slithered into your mind—dark, tempting, irresistible.
Your smirk widened. “Oh… wait,” you purred, voice teasing, wicked.
“Grimmy, I have a surprise for you.”
Casper swallowed hard, his crimson eyes flickering with something caught between intrigue and apprehension. His hands twitched where they gripped the sheets, like he couldn't decide if he should push you away or pull you closer.
You smirked, trailing your fingers lazily down his chest before slipping away entirely, stepping back just enough to let the anticipation thicken between you. Slowly, deliberately, you turned, making sure he caught the full, teasing sway of your movements as you sauntered over to your suitcase in the hallway.
His breathing was uneven. He was watching you, waiting, completely caught in your spell. "You've been keeping secrets from me, mortal?" he murmured, his voice rough, strained.
You glanced at him over your shoulder, fingers toying with the zipper of your bag. "Oh, I was saving this for myself," you admitted, drawing out each word like honey, "but now? I think I need it right now."
You unzipped the suitcase slowly—so slowly it was almost maddening. The faint rasp of the metal teeth parting filled the dimly lit room, a whisper of sound against the thick silence. Casper tensed.
His haunted lungs hitched.
"You know," you mused, lifting out the little package you had tucked away, letting the low lamp light catch on the edges, "if you're onto me, that means I'm onto you, too."
Casper's grip on the sheets tightened. "What… What are you planning?"
You turned fully now, holding the item in your hands, watching as his eyes darkened, his throat bobbing with an anxious swallow.
And with a wicked smile, you took a slow step toward the bed.
"Why don’t you let me show you, little reaper?"
It wasn’t long before you watched him, the way his body betrays every look of need: the rapid rise and fall of his chest, the restless curl of his fingers into the sheets, the way his throat works as he swallows hard, waiting.
Your hands glide over him, fingertips tracing the dip of his spine, the curve of his hip, the softness of his inner thigh—just to hear his breath catch. Then, with a quiet, knowing hum, you press against him from behind, your body flush against his, the heat of your skin searing through the space between you.
The weight of your body against his back makes him shudder, and you smile, dragging your lips along the slope of his shoulder.
"Shh," you murmur, voice honey-thick, "I’ve got you."
Your fingers trail down the trembling plane of his thighs, circling the base of his cock with a teasing, featherlight touch. He shudders beneath you, breath hitching—already so close to unraveling, and you’ve barely begun.
You reach for your toy, covered in your slick, warmed between your thighs before you guide it to him, pressing in with a slow, relentless push—just enough to make his back arch, just enough to pull a low, his back arching as choked gasp spills from his lips.
"There you go," you croon, your free hand stroking him in time with each shallow thrust, your grip just tight enough to make his hips jerk. "Such a good little reaper, haunting me, trying to steal my soul."
You click your tongue, amused. "But you’re the one who’s trapped now, aren’t you?" You pause, letting him feel every inch, letting him burn with it.
“P-please ugh!” His fingers claw at the sheets, knuckles white, and you lean down, catching his earlobe between your teeth before whispering, "Tell me, Casper—do wraiths beg?"
Then your fingers find his, threading through them, palm to palm, your grip tight enough to ground him, to remind him—you’re here, you’re his, even as you take him apart.
And then you move.
A slow, deep roll from your hands, the drag of the toy inside him carefully, maddening. His breath comes in ragged bursts, his fingers tightening around yours like a lifeline.
You thrust deeper, your hand working him faster now, twisting just the way he likes, and his answer comes in a broken moan, his body tightening around the toy as pleasure coils hot and desperate in his gut.
"That’s it," you purr, your breath hot against his skin. "Let me see you come undone. Let me watch you forget you ever wanted to haunt anyone but me."
His hips stutter, his cock pulsing in your hand as he spills over your fingers with a ragged cry, his body clenching around the toy in helpless, shuddering waves.
"It’s where you and I be." You started as your free hand skates up his chest, mapping the flutter of his heartbeat, the hitch of his ribs as he gasps. You can feel the way his body clenches around the toy, the way he trembles beneath you, caught between surrender and desperate, clawing need.
“If I’m on to you…" You whisper, your breath hot against his skin, pulling back just enough to catch his gaze—God, those eyes—deep red and drowning, pupils blown, lashes fluttering like he’s already lost to the tide of you.
"...then you’re on to me."
A sharp inhale. A fractured moan. His lips part, trembling—wordless, aching, yours.
Your pace moves—still deep, still relentless, but rougher now, each thrust punching a ragged sound from his throat. His fingers cling to yours, his body arching into every movement, every stroke, every touch like he’s memorizing the feel of you.
And oh, the sounds he makes—soft whimpers, breathless pleas, the way his voice breaks when you angle just right—it’s the most beautiful thing you’ve ever heard.
"Me... on to you." Your voice is a velvet snare, wrapping around him like smoke—dark, intoxicating, inescapable.
Casper arches beneath you, his body strung tight, every muscle trembling as you drive into him with slow, merciless precision. His fingers claw at the sheets, his breath coming in ragged, broken gasps.
"P-please—" he chokes out, his voice wrecked, desperate. "Let me—fuck, I need—"
You tighten your grip on his hips, nails biting into his skin just enough to make him whimper. "Need what?" you purr, dragging your lips along the shell of his ear. "Say it."
He shudders, his cock twitching against his stomach, already slick with cum. "Need to come," he rasps. "Please—please—"
You slow your thrusts to a torturous grind, savoring the way his body clenches around you, greedy and aching. “Aww, and what do I get?" you murmur, your breath hot against his throat.
His answer comes in a rush, raw and unguarded—
"My soul. My fucking—everything—just yours, only yours—"
Your hips stutter at that, just for a second.
His soul? A reaper offering up the one thing he shouldn’t—couldn’t—give away. Your fingers slide up his chest, pressing over the frantic beat of his heart. "Careful," you warn, your voice rough. “…You don’t know what you’re asking for."
"I do," he gasps, writhing beneath you.
"I want it—want you to own me, ruin me, fucking keep me—just—ah!—promise you won’t take it. Promise you’ll leave it in me... so I can always be yours."
Your breath catches. Fuck.
"I'm on to you," you growl, sinking your teeth into his shoulder as you snap your hips forward, hard enough to punch a broken cry from his lips. "And you’re on to me."
Then you finally—finally—let him cum.
His whole body seizes, back bowing off the bed as he spills over your fist with a shattered moan, his release hot and slick between your fingers. You don’t stop, fucking him through it, dragging out every last spasm until he’s sobbing, oversensitive and shaking.
When he’s limp beneath you, breathless and dazed, you lean down, lips brushing his ear. "Next time you try to steal my soul," you murmur, "make sure it's someone mine."
A weak, breathless laugh escapes him.
"Too late," he slurs, already half-gone. “I already have.”
You stare at him—really stare—before a slow, possessive smile curls into your mouth. “We’ll see…” you whisper, sealing the vow with a kiss pressed to his sweat-damp skin.
𝑒𝓍𝓉𝓇𝒶 𝒷𝑒𝓁𝑜𝓌: heheheheheh 🤭
The next day, the studio was bathed in artificial light, soft flashes illuminating the minimalist set—a white backdrop, an expensive chaise, and the ever-irritated grim reaper standing awkwardly in the middle of it all. The entire team moved like clockwork around him, adjusting lights, fixing props, and directing him to pose.
But Casper?
Casper refused to sit down. Not once.
Not even when the photographer, sighed dramatically and gestured toward the antique chair, "All right, Casper, just take a seat and—"
"No."
The team collectively blinked. The photographer looked ready to throw his clipboard across the room.
“Casper, darling, please,” the director whined, exasperated, “I promise it won’t kill you—”
Casper shot the man a look so venomous that it could have rotted a bouquet of flowers on the spot. Still, he did not sit.
Instead, he remained standing, shifting uncomfortably on his feet, the weight never settling. Every so often, his fingers twitched, like he was debating if it was worth committing homicide in front of an audience.
And you?
You were having the time of your life.
It was everything you could do not to burst into laughter as you lounged off to the side, sipping on an overpriced iced tea like you weren’t the reason for his predicament. “Casper, oh my, are you okay?” your boss finally asked, tilting her head, eyes narrowing slightly at his suspicious behavior.
Casper tensed. His glare flickered toward you, burning and accusing, as if daring you to say something.
You met his gaze head-on.
Then, with all the innocence of a saint, you shrugged. “Beats me,” you mused, sipping your drink, barely holding back a smirk.
Casper's fingers twitched violently.
You were the reason he couldn’t sit. You.
The reason he stood like he had a permanent problem. The reason he looked like he was seriously reconsidering his entire existence.
Casper exhaled sharply, silently cursing your entire bloodline, before begrudgingly suffering through the rest of the shoot. By the time it wrapped up, he was the first to disappear, slipping away the moment the cameras stopped flashing.
You found him soon after, tucked away at the back of the dressing room. The space was lined with racks of designer clothes, mirrors catching glimpses of his reflection at every angle—but despite all that, your attention never wavered.
The only thing that mattered was him.
Casper sat—mind you uncomfortably—near the vanity, arms crossed, eyes still smoldering from earlier.
You, on the other hand, were having fun. While the others took their break, you stayed behind, deciding it would be an excellent opportunity to mess with him further.
And somehow, that led to you dressing him for another shoot.
“Why am I letting you do this?” he grumbled as you straightened his collar, adjusting the fit of the sleek black suit you had thrown onto him.
“Because you have no choice,” you mused, hands lingering just a little longer than necessary, smoothing the fabric over his chest. “And because, deep down, you love it.”
Casper scoffed. “I loathe it.”
"Aww, you hurt because I fucked you with my dildo, right?" Your voice dripped with mock sympathy, babying him, laced with the kind of teasing cruelty that made his spine stiffen. You dragged a finger down the sweat-slick plane of his back, feeling the way his muscles tensed under your touch. "Poor Grimmy. So ruined by me."
Casper’s breath hitched, his fingers digging into his clothing like he was trying to tear them apart. "Shut up," he growled, but the tremor in his voice betrayed him, a face fully red.
You laughed, low and wicked, "And here I though you loved it," you purred, relishing the way his body shuddered beneath you. "You fucking nutted everywhere... like some desperate little thing."
His reaction was instant—a sharp inhale, a flash of crimson in his darkened gaze as he twisted to glare at you.
"You said you wouldn’t say that out loud!”
"Did I?" You blinked, all false innocence, before grinning like the devil you were. "Oops."
His fingers twitched. Then again. Closer. Tighter. Oh?
You watched, amused, as his control frayed at the edges, his jaw clenched so tight you could almost hear his teeth grinding. For a second, you wondered if he’d actually do it—if those long, pale fingers would finally snap around your throat in retaliation.
And then—
Casper had you pinned against the wall, his body caging you in, his eyes burning like hellfire. "This ends tonight," he snarled, gripping your chin hard enough to bruise, forcing your gaze up to his.
"I’m taking your soul, mortal."
You blinked. Then—you smiled. "Oh, Grimmy..."
Before he could react, you struck.
A twist of your wrist, a shift of your weight, and suddenly he was the one pressed against the wall, your body flush against his, your knee sliding between his thighs just to hear the way his breath stuttered.
The dim light carved shadows across his face, highlighting the way his lips parted—in shock, in fury, in something far more dangerous. His chest rose and fell beneath your palm, his heartbeat a frantic, uneven rhythm against your fingertips.
You leaned in, close enough that your lips brushed his as you spoke.
"You can’t take my soul, Casper."
"Because I already took yours."
His breath stopped. For a single, suspended moment, the world held still. His crimson eyes widened, his body rigid against yours, his mind scrambling to process the words—to deny them. "You—" His voice was rough, raw, ruined.
You pressed a finger to his lips, silencing him with a smirk.
"Shhh," you cooed, tilting your head like he was some misbehaving little pet. “I mean you gave it to me, willing in fact.”
He jerked his face away, his jaw clenched tight, but you didn’t miss the way his pulse jumped beneath your touch. "U-Uh I mean—Like, How?" he demanded, voice low, trembling with something between fury and fascination. "You're a mortal, a human—"
You tsked, tracing a slow, careful path down his throat, feeling the way his Adam’s apple bobbed under your fingertips. "Now, now," you murmured, your smile all teeth. "A person like me never reveals their secrets."
His entire body shuddered, his control unraveling thread by thread, his fingers flexing like he didn’t know whether to push you away or drag you closer.
Fuck, he was beautiful like this.
The so-called Grim Reaper, known to be the terror of the underworld—reduced to this. To being yours.
You leaned in, your lips a breath away from his, your voice a whisper.
"You should be thanking me," you murmured, your hand sliding lower, teasing, taunting. "Not every reaper gets the privilege of being claimed."
His breath hitched, rough as a serrated edge. "Claimed—?"
"Mhm." Your lips brushed his jaw, slow, deliberate, savoring his pulse beneath your mouth. "The underworld gifted me something special..." Your fingers dipped beneath the waistband of his pants, smirking as his hips jerked, and his teeth gritted against a moan.
"A little grim reaper to keep all for myself."
And then—his control shattered.
With a snarl, he grabbed your wrists, slamming you back against the wall. His body pinned yours, every hard line of him a brand, a conquest, a promise. His eyes burned like hellfire, lips parted around ragged breaths, chest heaving with the weight of something feral, something hungry.
And then he kissed you.
His mouth crashed against yours, such as teeth and tongue, and desperate. You gasped, and he swallowed the sound like a sinner taking communion, his grip on your wrists tightening to the brink of pain. There was like no gentleness here, no hesitation—like damnnn you really dragged out of him.
You laughed into his mouth, "I know if I'm haunting you…" You pulled back just enough to watch his lashes flutter, to see the way his lips chased yours, already addicted. Your breath mingled, hot, and shared, the space between you thick with the scent of sweat and sin.
And as his groan vibrated against your lips, as his hands slid from your wrists to your waist, dragging you impossibly closer. Then, with a smirk, you kissed him again—slow this time, a velvet stroke of the tongue that had him shuddering...
Hiii, I love your hcs for casper sm! If possible, could you write something for grim w/ a s/o that loves gardening (ties into the whole being a 'beacon of life' thing storywise)
CASPER X READER WHO LOVES GARDENING
WINTER BREAK HAS FINALLY ARRIVED!! This means that I can finally start writing again!!
I got a bit inspired by one of the endings from the new DLC ^^
Casper knew what he was getting into when you two first met. It was quite ironic really, the one whose soul emits life being fond of a thing that needs great care to thrive. The way your entire being seemed to beam whenever you shared your knowledge and told him little facts whenever you got the chance captivated him. It got him addicted in the best way possible. Casper knew how much you adored your plants even when he was only granted to look at them through his camera when you two video-called. What he didn't expect was how much more astonishing they looked in person. He couldn't help but admire your hard work in awe every time he came to visit you.
You let out a chuckle as you watched him look around, his gaze flickering from one plant to another, while you gently gently put the plant in a new suitable pot.
"Aren't you getting tired of the view?" you asked in a teasing matter, chuckling once more when he gave you a confused look. "Why would I?" he replied. "Am I not allowed to admire them? I must say, I'm quite impressed how you're able to fit so many inside your apartment"
You just smiled at him in return and turned around in your chair, giving him a little bow. "Why, thank you!" He let out a quiet chuckle you didn't dare to miss. His gaze never left yours as he took a seat on your bed. You averted your attention to your plant once more and gently patted down the soil. His gaze followed your every move, and he could feel his heart skip a beat as your gaze turned into one of pure delight, the same look you wore whenever you tended your plants. He could feel himself mirror your expression as he continued to watch you carefully. A comfortable silence settled between you, both of you content with the presence of the other until Casper interrupted the sweet silence. "Have you ever thought of doing this professionally?" he asked.
You looked up at him and hesitantly replied "I never really thought about it...". He looked at you confused, his fingers absentmindedly tracing patterns on your blanket. "Really? I would've guessed it to be one of your biggest dreams, judging by your apartment." You thought about his words for a few seconds before smiling once more
"Maybe we could open up a flower shop together someday." He blinked at you in disbelieve as he let your words sink in
"Together?"
"Of course, together! I think it would be fun!"
"And what about our bet?"
You groaned dramatically. "Aw, come on! Entertain the thought for a second!". He let out a sigh, his gaze briefly shifting for just a second before he looked at you again. A small smile tugged at his lips.
big thanks to @coralbae for some of the ideas here ily twin.
header :: I Became the Genuine Love Interest of Mr. Segawa Who Has a Huge Attitude and Body
► Nanami Kento
"You've got enough restraint to put it in me while it's soft, right?
"By 'it', I assume you are referring to my … cock?"
You nodded.
And it was precisely this question that led you to Nanami's current predicament. He was currently guiding his tip into your cunt, having been roped into such a fruitless exercise of his self-restraint. The blonde gave in quicker than you had anticipated — but then again, Nanami was incredibly easy when it came to you.
"Hurry, Ken," you tittered, spreading your legs wide without an ounce of shame. "I want to feel it get hard inside of me."
Nanami inhaled sharply through his nose, screwing his eyes shut and willing for his cock to stay limp. The sight of you spread out so sinfully before him, pussy glistening, was enough to have his cock jerking in his fist. "A moment, darling."
An impatient noise left you. You had taken it upon yourself to prep without your husband, knowing he'd get hard during the process. All he had to do was put it in, but even that seemed too demanding of a task for poor Nanami.
Propping yourself on your elbow, you nudged at his knee with your foot. "If you get hard, it'll only take longer to do what I want."
He muttered something unintelligible as you lied back down, making quick work of slipping inside of you.
Your lashes fluttered, and the way your pussy quivered at the intrusion was enough to have Nanami's knuckles whitening as he pushed in. The gradual warmth that engulfed his flaccid cock was unbearable, and his ability to hold back was soon dwindling its way into nothing.
"Just let it get h-hard, that's it. You don't need to fuck me yet."
"That's the problem," he rasped, "I want to make love to you."
You shook your head and tried to ignore the way you needed your husband to plough into you and make the bed shake. Your voice was shaky when you replied, pussy squeezing periodically — which certainly made the task that much more difficult for both of you. "Stay still."
Nanami braced his arms on either side of your head, sweat already beading against his hairline. His pulse had quickened considerably, thudding in time with yours as the blood slowly rushed down to his groin. "S-shit—"
"I can feel it, Ken," you laughed breathily, running your fingers up Nanami's forearms, until you were holding onto his tense biceps. "It's getting so big."
Cursed with a filthy wife with an even filthier tongue, it appeared.
Your husband was a gentleman, and he didn't want to do anything that'd compromise your safety. Yet with the sight of you laying under him, hair splayed out and cheeks flushed — all Nanami wanted to do was fold you in half and have his way with you.
Luckily for him, he was fully hard. You felt it all, watching with lidded eyes as the vein on his temple throbbed with each twitch of him inside of you. Then came the precum. a slight ticklish feeling as Nanami began leaking his arousal into you.
"Please tell me I can move now, my love. I-I don't think I can handle—"
"Move, Ken," you murmured coquettishly, palm on your stomach from where Nanami had stuffed you to the brim. Nanami was well-endowed soft, but now that he was hard? You were glad that you had prepared yourself beforehand.
And so Nanami did what you asked, driving his hips forward with a guttural groan in a way that'd had your legs shaky for days to come.
► Gojo Satoru
When Satoru said he wanted a hotdog, you didn't think he meant this — your shorts shucked down to your knees as you laid on your stomach, ass spread by two large hands and a soft cock nestled in between.
"Genuinely, what the fuck are you doing?"
Satoru shrugged, digging his long fingers into your rippling flesh after mounting you. "Said I wanted a hotdog. Now I have a hotdog."
You breathed in. You breathed out. Looking over your shoulder, you glared at your boyfriend — who was currently interrupting your self-care time. A nail file was idle between your fingers as you tried to comprehend where Satoru got the audacity from. "So you're just going to sit on me. Like that. Dick between my ass?"
"Yeah, nice 'n warm between here."
"So is an oven," you muttered dryly, prompting Satoru to slap your ass.
"An oven can't feel me get hard between its cheeks," he retorted playfully, wiggling his eyebrows. So that was what it was all about. He wanted you to feel him get hard against you? Odd but alas, in character. So you went back to filing your nails, seemingly not caring as to what Satoru did next.
He placed two large hands on the side of each rounded asscheek, pressed them inwards until the pressure around his cock intensified. Satoru couldn't hold back the plethora of breathy groans and curses that left him, too busy indulging in the way your ass seemed to mould to the shape of him.
"Really enjoying yourself there, huh?" You mumbled, unable to stop yourself from feeling a spark of arousal at the desperation of your boyfriend. He was pathetic — and a large part of you enjoyed that.
Satoru whimpered, nodding even though you couldn't see. Experimentally, he rolled his hips once, hissed at the dry friction, and felt his cock chub up at the same time.
You felt it too, the way the weight between your ass grew heavier with each frantic thrust. Had Satoru not been preoccupied with fucking the seam of your rear, he would've seen the way your pussy was slick with a steady gathering of your wetness.
But alas, Satoru was an ass man — and nothing was going to stop him from dry humping your butt and glazing them with a thick sheen of his cum.
"G-gosh, you're disgusting," you stammered out, almost panting in time with Satoru as he spat down to make the glide more wet. He ignored the way you jolted at the warm feeling, too busy lost in the wet plaps of his balls against the curve of your ass. "Like a rabid mutt."
"Y-yeaah, this mutt's gonna blow a load over your ass any second," Satoru chuckled, half crazed. You cursed, gripping onto the sheets and body rocking in time with his. It was obvious his orgasm was coming any second, and you had no time to warn him not to cum on you but—
SPURT
Satoru came — thick, messy ropes that shot out from between your ass, all over the small of your back and halfway up your silk camisole.
…
"Oops."
"You're licking that up, by the way. Asshole."
► Ryomen Sukuna
"Ryo. Ryomen. Sukun—ah!"
"Out with it, brat," he snarled, swatting you on the rear and planting you onto his lap. The King of Curses was sprawled out on his throne, his beloved bride making it her mission to make his life hell yet again. You grinned at him, giving his stomach mouth an affectionate nudge with your fingers.
"Was just wondering…"
"Nothing good ever comes out of that."
You slapped at one of his meaty biceps, tutting at his words. "Shut up. I was just wondering which one of your cocks get hard first."
…
"I do not know," Sukuna muttered, his brows furrowed in thought. Usually, he did not care about such trivial matters. At the end of the day, both would end up inside of you eventually, and noting which one stood at attention first was nothing short of necessary. Yet he found himself wondering…
"Are you suggesting we find out?
You nodded. "I'll hold them both and we can see."
Sukuna tutted at that, his two lower hands coming down to squeeze at your waist. "Do you really think that would be enough to turn me on?"
"Of course!" you cooed, poking your brute of a husband's nose. "Was it not only yesterday you grew hard at the sight of me in your robes?"
There was no arguing with that — your words were true, and as much as Sukuna liked to play the role of an aloof husband, there was a certain allure that you had that brought you two together in the first place, eventually leading to your marriage.
"Fine. You may try."
With a celebratory cheer, you reached down and parted Sukuna's robes. He didn't bother with undergarments, seeing as though it was appropriate to assert his dominance whenever he could (even if it meant scaring his servants with the two weighty cocks that swung between his legs like a pendulum).
Immediately, your left hand found his lower cock, and the right found the upper one. Even when he was soft, Sukuna was inhumanly large. It was the reason why prep with you could last hours. Seeing you writhe from consecutive orgasms was pleasing to the curse, but had he not been thorough with you — you would certainly not be able to take him.
Your fingers barely met as you held his flaccid cocks, marvelling at how daunting they were outside of you. Sukuna watched with his four lazy eyes, ignoring the way the tips of his ears burned at the feeling of his wife holding him like it was nothing. Then, the lower cock twitched first. Once, twice, three times.
"Oh, my," you whispered, watching as the upper cock began quivering too. Sukuna was quickly becoming aroused, eyes averted as he rested his chin on a fist. The scowl on his face was weak as you maintained your grip on him, so carefully attentive. You didn't want to miss it — which cock was able to stand at attention first at the simple feeling of your palm cradling his cocks.
"Not a word," he grunted. But his thighs situated themselves further apart, a lazy manspread that gave you more room to admire him. The plump veins snaking down his cocks were deepening in hue, much like his twin tips that were oozing out translucent precum.
Until the lower cock stood stiff first, the one above following not long after — true to biology. Sukuna snarled when you let out an astounded noise. "I suppose that makes sense. After all, the bottom cock is the easiest to get to… maybe…"
"Stop your rambling and fix this, woman. You started it, so you must deal with the aftermath."
"Gladly."
► Toji Fushiguro
Having an oral fixation was a bummer when there was no one around to satiate it. Fortunately for you, Toji had picked up on your little quirk as he liked to call it. The two of you quickly came to a little arrangement, where he was willing to let you use him whenever you saw fit in exchange for a pair of your underwear every week. You didn't even need to ask.
An expensive arrangement, but it was worth it.
Toji had a drawer full of frilly panties ready to be ruined, and you had a way to keep your mouth occupied.
Like right now.
Your head was on your housemates lap, his lazy attention to the shitty movie playing out before you. The realisation was slow at first, but you could feel the emptiness in your mouth becoming more prominent as the minutes went by. It was all so overwhelming, causing you to fidget and swallow around nothing and stirring Toji in the process.
"You good down there?" He grunted, passing a large hand over your head to ruffle your hair somewhat affectionately.
You nodded — but your answer couldn't be further from the truth. Then, you sat up, eyeing Toji's crotch. Even while he was soft, there was a prominent curve of where his dick sat. It made your mouth water, and his previous words came back to you.
Whenever you deemed fit, use him.
Usually, you'd ask before helping yourself to what you needed. But right now? Words were failing you and Toji wasn't offering. So you gently tugged out his limp cock after lifting the elastic waistband of his shorts and laid closer to the man.
The word 'pretty' wasn't often used when it came to Toji. But there was something about Toji's cock that made you fawn ever so slightly. It was slightly tan, deepening in colour as you came closer to his plump tip. The girth was obscene, decorated in fat veins that you loved to prod at with your tongue whenever you had the chance to.
You pressed forward, giving it a small yet audible smooch before opening your mouth. The man grunted above you, still not getting hard as you slowly enveloped more of him into your throat. He wasn't small, coaxing you into relaxing as much as you could before you inevitably let out a gag.
The gentle sounds of sucking filled the room, your lips pursed and tongue lolled out, flat against the underside of Toji's weighty cock.
All you could think about was Toji, Toji, Toji — his scent musky and clouding your brain with the beginnings of arousal. Saliva built up steadily in the heat of your mouth, coating the length in a thin sheen.
"Shit— easy now."
Until your sucking grew frantic. Your thighs pressed together in a poor attempt to alleviate your need to get absolutely railed by the older man.
A harsh jerk of Toji's cock in your mouth caught your attention, and the salty taste of precum bloomed over your taste buds. Only then did your spit begin to bubble out from the corner of your lips, your suckling having grown far too sloppy to not elicit a boner.
Toji listened in as you breathed heavily out of your nose, balls tense with the urge to cum at the forefront of his mind. You were a mess when he looked down, seeing your eyes watery and webbed strings of spit and cum gluing your chin to his crotch.
You shook your head, throat gurgling wetly as you swallowed around him — around the cock that bulged your throat and kissed against the back of it. With each descent of your head, seeing as though you had started giving Toji a blowjob, he grew more erect.
Not only that, he was bigger too, until your hollow cheeks lost their shape and rounded the more he filled the empty space inside you.
"Nasty girl, bet you're wet down there. Aren't you?"
Toji knew you couldn't answer — after all, it was bad manners to talk when your mouth was full. He opted to lean over on his side, sliding a large hand under the waistband of your shorts and copping a feel instead.
Lo and behold, your wetness met his fingers, and the grin that lifted the scarred corner of Toji's lips was nothing short of hungry.
A/N. I needed this outta my mind so bad y’all omg. Have a lovely day babygirls <3
♡ TOJI FUSHIGURO - Just sit on it, woman!
“Please…” Toji drawls, slow and syrupy around your puffy clit. “Who do you think you are, doll? Just sit.”
Now, the problem wasn’t that strange, low-level curse from Toji’s latest job. No, don’t make him laugh - he barely felt whatever that weak cursed technique was. The problem was the way he’d trudged back home, not even thinking of reaching for that door handle before it hits him.
Suddenly too-sensitive nose getting a whiff of your shampoo - all the way from inside the bedroom.
All the way to that dangerous, ugly little part of himself that says that if he doesn’t get a taste of you right now then neither of you are making out of this alive.
And it’s all you can do to gasp, “T-Toji what happened?”
“You. You happened. N’ I don’t care if I hafta oh-” he cuts himself off, hot lips surging forwards - addicted - to place another slow, wet peck on the sweet sweet juices beading at your cunt. “-if I hafta fuckin’ suffocate, m’gonna die if you don’t just sit, goddammit.”
“Fuck!” you keen when two, calloused hands of Toji’s loop around your shaky thighs. Pulling, dragging you down to press your entire weight down onto his slutty mouth. “You’re being so…”
He barely even hears you - too caught up on the way your pretty cunt was drooling down his waiting tongue.
Prominent Adam’s apple bobbing, eyes rolling to the back of his head as he tips his face up, up, up to let your heady juices slide down his throat. “What? Filthy? Needy? Like a bitch in heat?”
Each hissed out little word has you jolting on top of him - and Toji only tightening his bruising grip with a pained grunt to stop you from disconnecting with his ruthless lips.
“Ohhh fuck stay still, woman. S’the stuff of heaven. You’re so lucky you weren’t anywhere near me after that fight.” he spits at the feeling of you clenching around him, mouth moving a mile a minute even when he slips it past your swollen folds, dragging the muscles along all your hidden sweet spots. “So lucky. So sweet- so perfect thought I was gonna die without a lil’ taste-”
A shiver runs down your spine - all the way down to where Toji was messily making out with your ravaged pussy. Stretching you out, milking himself on your sloppy entrance. Animalistically, even.
You squeal, “Think I’m gonna die.”
“Shit- and you think I care? Just want- ngh-” And that sinful little scar rubs up against your sensitive folds when Toji grins knowingly, so deep now that his nose was pressing against your pelvis, jaw grinding against you. Big arms orchestrating each mean, long drag of your sloppy pussy up and down his pretty face. Up and down up and down up and- “What did I say? This is all because of y-you, y’know?”
And Toji’s tone is so low, strangled - that the answer almost comes out as a whine. It makes you snap your glassy eyes down to look - to gape at how utterly wrecked he already was.
Dark hair curtaining those pussydrunk, half-lidded eyes, your slick glossing prettily over his plump lips - all the way down to his cheeks, his sharp jawline. And only getting sloppier with each movement,
“Me?” you blink tearily - fuck, when did it get so good you started crying? And why was Toji much the same? Dark eyes wet and miles away.
“Mhm.”
“S’your fault for being so- so-” As if the words were failing him, Toji’s only moves to suck harsher on your throbbing clit. Obscene little smacks of his lips following your barely-lucid ah! ah! ah! “-like this.”
Even through the haze of it all, you manage out a huff of laughter, “Like this?”
For this, you get a sharp smack! on the fat of your ass. Thick fingers soothing over the sting almost immediately so that you’re not bowing your body away from Toji’s persistent mouth, “S’it so bad if I wanna taste my sweet girl?.” He moans, sounding so genuinely pained, “But I need you- need to taste this fuuuck pretty cunt so bad. Gonna die if I don’t- if I-”
“Hngh- yes- fuck fuck fuck, Toji-” your fingers threat their way into his soft hair. Tugging and pulling with each harsh lap at your cunt. Your body arching like a slut as if on command when he speeds up, “-feels too good. M’so close fuck-”
“Be messy, be loud- I don’t fucking care.” he hisses, brows furrowing in concentration. And whatever’s left of that practical little part of your hazy mind wonders whether it doesn’t hurt - whether his tongue wasn’t cramping up, mouth aching. “Jus- jus wan’ you to cum on m’tongue. You’ll let me taste you, right, doll? Want it want it want it so fuckin’ bad-”
You didn’t know who wanted you to cum more - you, or your dear boyfriend.
But when you do - you have you answer.
“F-fuck, Toji.” your gummy walls clench around where he was bullying his tongue inside. “M’cumming- M’cumming m’cumming m’- ah!”
“Give it t’me. Give it allll to me that’s it.” Because Toji’s lapping at each and every syrupy drop of your juices, moaning into your cunt as you ride him through your high. Addicted. The vibrations having your hips stuttering and unstable on top of him.
He lets his thumb draw lazy, tight circles on your sensitive clit. Unstopping - even when you’re blinking back your spotty vision, tears crinkling at the corner of your eyes at the overstimulation.
Even when you try to pull away from his ruthless mouth - little, messy strings of spit and slick snapping in the nonexistent distance.
Even when he still darts his tongue out hastily to taste you sloppily, “One more - didn’t get enough of m’fill.”
♡ NANAMI KENTO - Can’t- won’t wait!
Everyone knows that your husband Nanami was protective - rightfully so. Everyone knows that just a toe out of line could have the stoic man snapping - showing off exactly why he was the one that put that pretty lil’ ring on your finger.
But never like this.
Never so…crazed.
And it’d only taken one too many flirty comments from some new intern in the time it’d taken Nanami to rush over there from his latest jujutsu mission. Just for your husband to drag you away from the party, barely paying attention to anything else.
Though, when you caught a glimpse of his eyes you didn’t think he could - gaze strangely hazy, breath a bit shorter, skin flushed a delicate pink.
“Can’t believe it.” he groans, pressing you up against the wall of the nearest empty room he could find. Fat cock just nudging past that feeble ring of resistance of yours. “Can’t fuckin’ believe it. Fuck-”
You’re jumping slightly with each little profanity spat into your open mouth, bleary eyes blinking up at your Nanami. Managing out, “Is everything hah- alright, Ken?”
“Can’t fucking believe it.”
There it was again.
That low, accusing little mantra - this time panted out into the side of your racing pulse. Breaking ever-so-slightly at the end when Nanami’s bullying his swollen cock deeper past your plushy walls, the curve of his girth having you arch like such a slut against the wall.
Nanami growls, “Can’t fucking believe-” he slides two hands under your weakening thighs easily, picking you up like some little ragdoll to be split apart on his cock. Murmuring against your mouth, “Can’t believe you won’t let me jus’ fuck you right then and there, my love.”
You don’t know what shocks you more - Nanami’s words or the way he’s immediately letting gravity do all the work, sliding your dripping cunt so easily down his cock. Inch by fucking inch.
All up until your pelvis was flush against those neat tufts of blond at his base. God, you don’t think you’ve ever seen Nanami so impatient.
“Thought I was gonna die without your sweet cunt.” He was barely even breathing. Eyes glassy - crazed. Voice so deep and ragged when he whispers into your ear. “Should’ve jus’ let me fuck you out there, right in the middle of the ball. Made a scene n’ showed them all please- we could go back-”
And it takes you a few seconds to realize that this is Nanami. Your Nanami.
Seriously, what the fuck happened on that mission?
“But- what?” you squeal, gummy walls swallowing him up so readily despite your confusion. “Who are you and what have you done with my husband?”
And this little comment makes Nanami physically stop, dark eyes glinting with something so dark - dangerous. Brows furrowing as he utters, “Nothing. Did you forget that I’m your husband, darling?” Having you scrambling to hang onto his broad shoulders as he walks over to splay you out so prettily on a nearby desk. “Or do I jus’ hafta remind you?”
It’s all it takes for Nanami to thrust up into your heavenly cunt. One hand holding you still on the cool desk, while the other just ravages your throbbing clit in time with his needy cock.
“F-fuck, Ken— oh- yes yes yes-”
Fat tip pressing up against your g-spot like he had a point to prove, spearing you at each harsh, bullying thrust that has you pushed further and further up the desk. Over and over.
The desk shifts ever-so-slightly with every smack of Nanami’s heavy balls against your ass. Creaking - but not loud enough over your obscene moans.
“Stop-” he chokes out at the feeling of your pussy being inched away from him. You weren’t running from him that easily. Which is exactly the thought ringing through his mind when Nanami circles his large hands underneath your thighs, dragging you right across to meet his sculpted front. “Stop fuckin’ running away.” Nevermind the fact that you weren’t - voluntarily at least. “Please- need it so badly, s’like m’burning without ya. You’re gonna take my cock like a hah- g-good lil’ wife, okay?”
And Nanami knows maybe he should slow down - maybe ease you into it, first. But either it was that stupid fucking cursed technique talking or maybe the sight of some loser being all starry-eyed at you, he’s fucking you into the desk so mean.
“Should’ve- would’ve.” he’s grunting, and you already know what he’s talking about. “Saw you in this pretty lil’ dress and fuck darling you don’t know how h-hard it was to ngh keep m’self in check.” Teeth nipping and leaving little bite marks down your neck, and shit if you were in any better state of mind you’d have had the rationality to be worried about them - about how people would talk if they saw those. “N’ I would’ve loved to. Don’ know how much I fuck- w-worship this pussy, my love. How much I was dreaming about it all day long.”
The creaking grows louder.
Your head is spinning right now, “All day long?”
“Mhm…” Nanami slurs, a loose little smile playing on his lips. “Always do. But today- fuck, today. Needed to feel you or I thought I was gonna ngh- die. Or worse.”
“Or worse.”
Bang!
In a split-second, you’re back bunched up in Nanami’s arms - his cock still buried deep within you. Moving. Merciless. Even though his eyes flicker downwards at the pile of wood that used to be a desk. “Lose you that promotion.”
♡ GETO SUGURU - Use?
“Use me.”
“What?”
“Use me, goddammit.”
Geto sounded almost hysterical now - words ragged, a pitch higher than normal. Staring at you with that drunk, wide-eyed gaze while you perched right on his muscular thigh. Looking as bewildered as you felt at that moment when he lets out a humorless little laugh, “That curse- fuck I should’ve known before ingesting- shit.”
Fingers frantic - almost tearing through the fabric of his boxers as he removes them feverishly.
And his cock didn’t just look rock-hard no- it looked so so angry. So painful. Flushed a pretty red at his weepy tip, leaking down, down, down straight to where you’d unconsciously wrapped your hand around him.
“O-oh.” he gasps in relief when you’re dragging your fist up his cock. Head throwing back to show off that long, beautiful neck - dusted with a blush going all the way down. “Could cum from just this fuuuck.”
And this was nothing like the Geto Suguru you were used to - the sweet talker who’d have you falling apart with just a few words. The one that treated sex like a game - where you were always his pretty lil’ loser.
“Care to elaborate, Sugu?” you flash him a smug smirk - one that makes his swollen cock twitch traitorously in your hand. “Shit, you’re so needy right now you could cum untouched.”
“You little bitch.” he spits out, greedy gaze stuck on the way you were beginning to drag your sloppy cunt up and down his toned thigh. In a way that makes it impossible for Geto to tear his eyes away from the way you were intentionally catching your throbbing clit on each and every dip of muscle, spreading your puffy folds. “You know what I mean.”
You’re batting your lashes so deceivingly innocently, grinding your hips down harder. “I don’t.”
As if to prove your point, you squeeze around his aching dick even harder, pumping your fist all the way from his soaked base up to his sensitive slit.
Immediately, he bucks his hips up wildly, precum smearing a glossy sheen all over your wrist. “F-fuck you.” he spits. “You little-” And oh you should’ve known that Geto was Geto despite whatever he’d been cursed with. That it’d only take him a split second to reach a hand over to smear the mess of sweet sweet juices you were trailing over his thigh. Bullying his dripping wet fingers between your lips, “You talk too fuckin’ much, gorgeous.”
Oh.
Oh, you were fucked.
“You really think I’d let you g-get away with hah that much?” Geto drawls against your ear, fingers dancing down to control your movements riding his thigh. “N’ after ngh- I was so nice.” He was pulling - dragging you at a mean little pace now. “Should’ve just shut up n’ taken it. Should’ve just used me when I asked.”
It’s like he’d forgotten all about his lust-drunk little state.
You’re mewling, muffled around his thick fingers. Something that only makes his lips curl up into a syrupy, smug grin, “Who’s cumming untouched now? Got somethin’ to fuck- say?”
You do - and you’re thumbing teasingly under Geto’s neat slit, reveling in the way that makes his harsh little rant die in his throat. Moving your hand up and down to first his cock needily in hasty, long movements like you were trying to fuck something delicious out.
“You little minx hah-” he’s pressing his fingers right at the back of your tongue, hot mouth kissing away the salty tears welling up behind your eyes. “S-so dirty.”
And it was dirty - your hands coated in Geto’s sheen of precum, his thigh glossy with your slick. But neither of you could bring yourselves to be disgusted - not one bit.
Not when Geto was forcing down your hips harder, bouncing his knee to match your slutty little tempo. Faster. More desperate. Letting you concentrate on driving him fucking insane with your soft hands - palming and running only on the need to making him cum. To have him spill so hotly all over your hands.
“Yeah, oh God that’s right- Use me use me use me-” Geto’s mouth slacks open, eyes heady and cracked only to eye the way you’re clenching and quivering around nothing. Your hips only stuttering - getting sloppier and sloppier with each weighty, hard slide down his thigh. He groans, “Fuck fuck fuck m’close-”
“M-me too-” you whine, voice breaking so pathetically at the end. “So much for coming untouched.”
Close - too close.
Close enough that you’re barely even noticing the way Geto’s stiffening up underneath you. Breath hitching in his throat before-
Slam!
“Wha-” Your back hits the plush mattress - so fast that you almost have half the mind to wonder whether this was some figment of your imagination. But, no, Geto’s hot tip nudging at your puffy folds was real. Dangerous. Waiting for just the right moment to rip you apart. His bated breath against your ear was real - very, very real.
“You didn’t really think I’d let you off that easy, did you, gorgeous?”
♡ CHOSO KAMO - “S-sex?”
Oh, Choso sounded so fucked out just from uttering that.
And you feel the way your cunt clenches at that broken, almost-whiny little plea coming from your best friend’s mouth. Big, dark eyes blinking up at you dazedly in a way that makes you tighten your legs around his waist, pinned to the floor of- fuck, which curse site was this again?
“Mhm, Cho.” you hum, drinking in the shallow pants he lets out into your mouth when you slide his leaky, angry tip between your swollen folds. Barely teasing him between your slit, “S’the only way to get rid of this technique, right?”
Clothes are torn off, breaths coming out in pants. You don’t know if Choso registers your words - shit, you don’t know if he even hears you right now.
Barely even breathing as he slides two shaky hands of his to rest up at your hips. Giving you a reassuring squeeze once. Twice. Before pulling you down in a split second.
“Yes!” the word bursts out from his lips. Choso drags your body up, up, up his throbbing length like some ragdoll - until his pretty pink tip was just circling around your sloppy hole - only to bring you all the way back down again. Barely even halfway in yet, but the stretch - fuck, the stretch had you arching for more. “Yes yes yes yes yes fuck yes if you feel just like- like heaven-”
You never thought your sweet Choso would be so needy. Would buck his hips so ferally into your syrupy sweet cunt until you were second-guessing why it ever took so long to do something like this.
Until today’s fateful little mishap with another curse, that is - and oh, you’ve never been more grateful for that stray cursed technique.
“Hngh-” you screw your eyes shut when the curve of his dick brushed against your sweet spots - unforgivingly. Spreading the fat of your ass in two big hands, trying to squeeze himself inside deeper. Again. And again and again and- “S-slow down, Cho–”
‘Slow down?” Choso breathes from below you - sounding so genuinely bewildered. Still thrusting up in stubborn, long grinds. “Y-you want me to slow down? After- after this?” He’s giving a mean thrust into your gummy pussy, eyes widening down at the heavenly view of your puffy lips sucking him up. Spread needily, bulging around his girth in a way he’d have felt sorry for if he was in any better state of mind. “Slow down- Yeah, gotta- gotta slow down.”
But he only fucks up into you harder. Stronger. Like it killed him to do anything but take you right now and right there on the floor. Messy - no rhythm or rhyme of his hips, just running on pure need and the feeling of you milking his poor cock.
And the idea of that - of your best friend being drunk on the feeling of you wrapped around his aching cock - has you a little more breathless than you’d like. Plushy walls clamping down tight.
Almost immediately, Choso’s throwing his head back, gasping out a stuttering, “O-oh so ngh- that’s what it feels like. Always- always imagined if…” You don’t get to hear the rest of his sentence because two long fingers of his are latching on shyly to your sensitive clit, rolling softly.
And if he were any less of a man, Choso would be cumming on the spot - fuck, he’d be passing out.
“Fuuuuck tighter than I’d dreamt of.” he whimpers, cock twitching wildly inside your dripping cunt. Deft fingers find a lewd little rhythm to toy with your ravaged clit. “Have to slow down- have to- can’t.”
He was out of control now. Sloppy. Teary praises leaving those pretty pink lips with each bullying piston of his hips.
“Ch-Choso!” you whine, dragging your hips down to meet his sloppy cadence.
Choso’s eyes flutter to the back of his head, grunting “Yes, yes that’s it, my baby. Say my name.” Using his inhuman strength to put pressure on your hips. “Take it- take it please. Wan’ see you full of m’cock.” All the way until the heady bedroom echoes with a loud smack! his fat head kissing your cervix, heavy balls imprinting against your ass.
And then it’s like something snapped.
Choso’s sanity - his restraint. Possibly you by the end of this.
Because in all of two seconds, he’s flipping the two of you over. Your back pressed against the cool floor, legs thrown over his shoulders until your knees were folded all the way up into your tits, Choso groans into your ear at the all new angle.
Not wasting a second longer before fucking you in this mean little mating press, abs rippling with each heavy, calculated movement.
“Baby…” Choso drags his lips up your neck, sharp canines biting down on your earlobe. Gentle - the complete opposite of his rock-hard cock. “Think if I cum inside s’gonna solve the curse?”
Oh.
♡ RYOMEN SUKUNA - True kinda love
You thought you’d seen everything there is about the king of curses. Anything from those smug kisses he’d give you after taking care of “scum curses” for fun to the times he’d begrudgingly watch sappy movies with you - only to fuck away your tears at the end.
You thought.
But oh you’d never seen him like this - yukata torn apart, no longer fitting how much bigger was, how much stronger his form was. His true form.
Muscles just bulging on all four arms, eyes half-lidded, dark nails leaving neat little indents where he held your squirming hips sat prettily on two matching, painfully hard cocks.
Well, “sat prettily” was an understatement - right now you felt so full you could’ve just died.
“Heh, better not die on me just yet because I feel like m’gonna kill fucking everyone..” Sukuna’s large pecs rumble with laughter- shit, had you said that out loud? “Everything.” Long tongue coming up to lick a hot trail up the big fat tears streaming down your cheeks. Whispering raggedly, “God- fuck! How’d you want it? Like I’m me or like hah- this?”
It’s all you can do to crane your head up deliriously, batting your teary lashes in a way that makes Sukuna twitch so wildly.
His veins thump! thump! thumping into your gummy walls, fat heads nudging right at your bruised cervix - your lungs it felt like. Hips grinding up into yours when he’s shoving himself impossibly deeper, “Answer me.”
“Fuck!” you’re gasping, stupidly. Glassy gaze flitting down to the two angry cocks bullied inside your poor pussy. And still going. “N-no, your true ngh- form- fuck-”
“Oh yeah?”
Your words are coming out a garbled mess, making such a sly, dangerous leer spread across Sukuna’s lips. Fucking up faster. Sloppier.
Oh, the feeling had him lightheaded. Had him thankful he lost control of his powers to maintain that pathetic human image of his. Had him ramming past those rings of muscle again. And again. And again and again- oh he was fucked.
“Fuuuck, feel like m’burning. M’so lucky.” Sukuna slurs out, a free hand of his busying itself toying with your throbbing clit. Pulling, rolling in a way he knows will have you whining so prettily. “Sooo fuckin’ lucky I didn’t kill that fuckin’ trash curse.” Glossing his wrists with your sweet sweet juices, lips kissing at your heated ears. “Because now I get to see how much of a slut my girl is f’me, hm?”
The only answer he’s getting is a wet string of profanities that even Ryomen Sukuna himself is proud of.
Because suddenly Sukuna’s crashing his achy tips against your g-spot, throwing his head back at how fucking sinful it felt to be rubbing up against himself.
“Shit- yer only getting tighter.” he spits, strained. Sculpted thighs rippling underneath you where he was fucking up into you in jagged, methodical half-thrusts to mold your sweet cunt to him. “Ngh- fuuuck gonna be the death of me, pretty girl.”
“Please-” you’re clawing at the sheets, the headboard, Sukuna’s shoulders - anything and everything to keep your sanity. Begging for- what? Mercy? More? “Please please- m’so close. Kuna ngh-”
He cranes his head down to kiss at your slack lips, breaths feverish. “Damn. Open that m-mouth now, brat. Jus’ a bit- jus’ a bit more.”
Your mouth is sagging open, tongue lolling out before you know it - positioned perfectly for the bigger man to purse his lips and spit. Once. Twice.
And Sukuna knew he had perfect aim, he knew he could’ve made this easy for you - but, no, the steady stream of saliva is splattering against the side of your mouth. A large thumb of his coming up to swipe the mess across your wobbly lower lips.
“My girl deserves to be treated like the slut she is, right?”
His true form has those inhumanly large fingers moving so unfairly fast on your clit, rolling and pinching in an obscene little blur.
“Oh- oh my god-” you sob, ass stinging where his heavy balls were smacking you - sure to leave a few embarrassing marks. And fuck he’s not even all the way in yet. “Y-you’re so deep- so much. Close Hngh-”
Sukuna’s grinning, two hands helping just drag you down his sloppy length, until your sopping folds were kissing at his toned pelvis. Another dancing up to knead and grope your sloppy hole open wider, “Say it. Say who you’re acting like such a slut for.”
“It’s- fuck!”
“Say it properly, my cockdrunk girl. Say it if you wanna cum.”
“You!” your words fail you pathetically, and the only think you’re moaning next is Sukuna’s name - like a prayer. “S’you Kuna oh-”
And then you’re cumming - white-hot pleasure behind your eyes, and Sukuna’s name in your mouth. Arching into his body. His tongue slipping past your puffy lips to muffle his own moans because God this was the hardest he’d cum in his life and he wasn’t about to drown out any of your pretty moans with it.
“Oh-” Sukuna shudders, fucking you over and over through your high. Two hands carrying your weight and- shit, when did he stand up? “Yeahh, milk me like that, just it mm knew you were so good f’me-”
You’re realizing with a jolt that he’d gotten up, using gravity to his advantage and sliding you up and down his swollen cocks like some glorified sextoy. So easily. So sinfully while he filled your poor overfilled over and over.
Thick, hot globs of cum that drool down your messy cunt, so fucking much from both his throbbing cocks. Like he couldn’t - wouldn’t stop.
Enough to form a pool at Sukuna’s feet. One he doesn’t even give a second glance before muttering, “Ya better hope you’re on the pill because the curse and I are far from over, brat.”
♡ GOJO SATORU - STRONGEST
You thought it would bate by his second orgasm.
And when it didn’t, well, surely the third time was the charm…
Or, well on the slight chance that that didn’t work - the fourth would be the last, right? Right?
“Sweetheart…” Gojo mutters, teary, red-rimmed eyes peering so unfairly into your hazy ones. Folding your trembling, limp legs back into such a tight mating press. “Jus’ one more time. Please? I promise this fifth time’s gonna be the last.”
Wrong. And here you were, folded up in half underneath the great Gojo Satoru - the strongest, the same sorcerer that can take down a special grade and let himself be hit by its cursed technique (“out of curiosity!”) in the same breath.
“A-another?” you mutter, but it comes out much more breathless than you intended. Thighs tightening involuntarily where they were thrown over Gojo’s broad shoulders. “Toru, are you sure-”
Your dear boyfriend’s only giving you a slow, lazy nod. A dopey smile spreading over his face when he spots the trail of gooey white dribbling down your poor, overfilled pussy, gushing out of you with each languid thrust. Oh- shit, when had he started moving again? You bet even he didn’t know that answer.
And before you can react, Gojo’s taking the time to pool the sinful mess on two of his fingers - promptly bullying them back into your already stuffed cunt.
Fuck, you’re not making it out of this alive.
“Shit, taking me so e-easily, huh?” Gojo’s raw, pink lips fall open when your sloppy hole stretches just enough to accommodate his long fingers. “Y-yeah tha’s it. Take it like m’good girl.” Tears of sensitivity pricking behind his eyes when you clench around him so fucking tight, your plushy walls just milking his ravaged cock. “F-fuck s’too sensitive. Too much!”
And despite his own little whines at the back of his throat, Gojo makes no move to stop.
Did he say he’d stop? Ah, his fried brain couldn’t remember anymore.
None at all, instead, he’s raising his glossy finger pads right up to his mouth. Blue eyes falling shut when he presses them inside momentarily, sucking, savoring the taste of you and him and you-
“You’re t-too much, Toru.” you squeal in embarrassment.
And that’s all it takes the strongest to let out a barely-lucid hum of agreement - pulling out his fingers with a lewd pop!
“I know, sweetheart, I know.” he leans down to hum, breath hot against your face. “But what can I- ngh- do-” Each word was punctuated by a harsh, sloppy smack of his hips against your own. Not even bothering pulling all the way out - Gojo doesn’t have to, because he’s nudging all your sweet spots so expertly anyway. Grunting out over those absolutely lewd squelches, “I just want- need you so bad. S’like m’burning from the inside hah- o-out if I don’t ngh fuck this pretty pussy.” He’s babbling deliriously, bent so far down now that your forehead is pressed up against his, thighs burning at the stretch. “-need it so bad. Need it - my one weakness, sweetheart. S’gonna kill me- gonna be the death of me oh-”
“Please!” you think you could almost feel Gojo’s cum sloshing around your walls right now. Fucking you into the mattress so hard - so deep - that you wonder by what miracle the neither of you haven’t broken anything yet.
It wasn’t a miracle - it was his reverse cursed technique, which the both of you discover only much, much later.
But for now you’re only clinging desperately to Gojo’s muscled shoulders, bones popping in protest. Fucked-out whimpers spiling from his pretty mouth each time he was slamming his poor, overused cock inside you. Teary eyes screwing shut because shit it hurt so good. Too good.
“F-Fuck!” you’re gasping when he dances his fingers straight down to draw hasty, feverish little circles on your poor clit. Fingers clawing at his persistent wrist, “Oh my god-”
Gojo hums into your mouth, “J-just ‘Toru’ is fine.”
You let his cocky little comment slide - if only because your boyfriend was smashing into your g-spot repeatedly now. Over and over.
Voice about an octave higher when he’s groaning, “Y-yeah, that good? Ngh- ah!” His hips were stuttering forwards - messy, so so needy like he was drunk on those cute lil’ whines tearing from you with each drag of his cock. “Yeah fuck fuck f-fuck yer killin’ me - pussy too good, feels like m’gonna die.”
God, he really did feel like he could die. Fuck.
“M-me too ngh, Toru.” you wrench your eyes open when something so wet splashes onto your cheeks. Boring into Gojo’s glassy, pussydrunk eyes. Crying now. “M’so close-”
“O-oh yeah?”
And then he’s speeding up - if that was even possible. Flushed skin smacking against yours harder. Just a bit more calculated. Like he couldn’t stop. Uncontrollable.
Enough for Gojo to blink away the slight haze in his eyes and actually look at you. Look at the way your lips wobble with each glide of his fat tip against your sensitive spots, the way you milk him harder when he’s smearing his mess of cum all over your clit. At those delirious little heart-eyes you give him when he only lets his jaw sag open, such fucking embarrassing whimpers of your name being drawn all the way from his overworked cock.
“Cum f’me, sweetheart.” he manages to grit out. “Cum f’me cum f’me, please. Please.”
And how could you not when the strongest asks you so prettily?
You don’t know who cums first - just that your own orgasm is a wave of tingles that shoot all the way from your toes right into your stupidly fucked-out brain. Again and again and Gojo-
Oh, Gojo can’t do anything but bury his head into the crook of your neck. Sharp teeth biting down hard at the point of your pulse as he cums over and over and over. Shooting thick, hot spurts of seed right into your silky cunt. A sinful little white that drools out of your sloppy slit - too much.
“Sweetheart…” Oh, you knew that tone - too well. “Y’know how I h-have the ah- six eyes n’ this was only our fifth round and six is really a nice num-”
⸺ ⟢ contents. varka x reader. suggestive content and alcohol consumption. you’re both a little tipsy and varka’s showing you his scars in a booth in angel’s share.
“And this one?”
You ask with a captivating bat of your lashes, your fingers trace slowly across the jagged outline of the scar across Varka’s bare chest.
“Outskirts of Mondstadt, five years ago. Some treasure hoarders thought it would be wise to raid a camp in the middle of the night looking for something to pawn.” Varka laughs as he recalls the memory, but he finds it hard not to lean into your touch.
“Who would’ve thought the Grandmaster was a fan of camping.” You chuckle, and the sound makes Varka shift with one of his own.
“That was a rude awakening, but I let them get one good hit in before I started clean up.”
“Ever the noble knight.”
You joke, playfully as your finger continues their slow ministrations across Varka’s chest, leaning a little too heavily into his side as your earlier consumed wine makes you feel a little soft. You think it’s amusing, the way the Grandmaster always appeared to get himself into such situations, but you’re sure your position right now might fall into that category aswell.
After all, it’s not everyday that one would find themselves holed up in one of the private, upstairs booths of Angels Share with a shirtless, just as tipsy Varka pressing himself up against them.
You’re sure anyone else would find the idea of the Grandmaster of the Knights of Favonius being so easily persuaded by a pretty face and a few servings of wine to be quite shameful. Especially in public, the idea of it would be sure to send Master Jean into cardiac arrest but at the moment, with the feeling of Varka’s warm skin beneath your fingertip— you don’t think either of you are thinking much about the consequences at all.
And you’re not just any pretty face.
Varka’s always been quite fond of you. Has always caught your gaze at meetings or around town, you’ve exchanged a few letters back and forth during his time away for missions and he always seem to prefer discussing his findings on his return with you. Much to the distaste of a few others, but Varka’s never been one to shy away from letting his…. respect for your hard work to be known.
You do a lot for the Knights of Favonius. Which means you do a lot for Varka.
Maybe even a lot more than you realise.
So when you’d invited Varka out for drinks to celebrate his return to Mondstadt, to then spend the earlier part of the night admiring the unbuttoned top of his shirt with a glimmer of curiosity sparking in the irises of your eyes when you’d caught a glimpse of the many scars across his skin. Sure, he had perhaps been a little too eager to pull off his shirt completely when you’d asked “Can I see them?” in that convincing, saccharine tone that you always do.
Blame it on the wine.
But with the most recent, long mission in Nod Krai finally far behind him. Well, Varka thinks it’s only right that he allows himself to let off some steam the only way he knows how… right?
You press a little bit more of your weight into Varka’s side as your finger drags down a little lower, tracing the thick muscle of his peck until you watch the skin twitch beneath your touch. And then you cast him a glance, following it with another little bat of your lashes that has Varka having to take a big swig of wine to keep himself from melting.
“And this one?” You hum, touch stroking back and forth across another line in his skin.
He doesn’t need to pull his gaze away from yours to answer.
“From a wild beast out by Starfell Valley. I wrestled it with my bare hands, you know. I’m surprised you haven’t already heard the story, they called me a real hero, saved the whole village from being overrun and all I got as a souvenir was this little thing.” He says, voice loud and proud but close as he tilts his head down towards the gash. “It was no walk in the park, but it was no match for me.”
“That’s pretty cool, seems you’re quite the force to be reckoned with.” You giggle with another sway, and Varka steadies you with a hand around your waist, pulling you deeper into the booth until you’ve no choice but to flatten your palm against his abdomen to keep steady.
“You think so?” He hums, his voice low and strained. You only realise how close you both appear to be when it urges you to look up, his face just short of yours. “There’s a lot more than just that.”
“More?” You mimic him, but your words come out a little more lithe and dreamy than you intend them to. The heat in Varka’s gaze makes your mouth feel dry, but before you can give way to those thoughts his hand releases his drink in favour of taking hold of yours.
He drags it down a little lower while you watch, fingers tracing down his pecks to the broad, strong muscles of his abdomen and he hisses when you apply pressure to a particularly sensitive spot at his waist. His body jolts into your touch as you find a newer, pinker scar mid-way down, just to the side of his lower stomach.
You tease it with your fingers, and he has to muffle the groan it drags out of him with a low laugh.
“Heh, careful.” Varka hums, half-slurred but trying to play it off.
“Does it hurt?” Your head rolls onto his thick shoulder, and you bat your lashes up at him as your finger traces the outline. There’s a shift to his hips when you look at him, and maybe you’d pick up on why if you were only to look down.
Varka grins, shaking his head as he lowers his face to make sure you can hear him over the music. “Oh no. That’s not what I’m worried about.”
There’s a shift in the atmosphere after that, a hitch in your breath as your touch continues to move back and forth across Varka’s bare skin. The muscle contracts and twitches as your touch twirls itself a little lower, and you think there’s a glimmer of something in the Grandmaster’s gaze that makes you feel warm and delightfully giddy.
You could blame it on the wine, your tolerance barely scratching the surface of what he’s able to consume. But you’ve not had enough to cloud your judgement that much, and you’re still in full control when you find it in yourself to swing your thighs over the closest one of Varka’s to you, scrambling slightly until you’re almost perched on his lap with a subtle push closer.
And perhaps you’d be embarrassed at how forward you’re being if it weren’t for him helping you.
Your eyes leave his for a moment as you rest your palm flat against his lower stomach. And you’ve gotten close enough to the point you can feel his breath fan across your features, sweet with wine and just as tempting.
“Any more?” You ask, barely managing a whisper as your eyes drag back up to Varka’s.
If you weren’t so close you don’t think he’d be able to hear you given the lively background noise and the live music. But given your more than intimate little private setting, he doesn’t miss a single syllable as his arm hooks around your waist— making sure you’re kept close.
Varka’s response comes only when he leans in to brush his lips along the shell of your ear.
“Oh, I’ve got a lot more to show you… you might even find what i’ve got left to be more impressive.”
“Is that even possible?” You say, in equal parts disbelief and anticipation. Varka’s fingers stroke back and forth across the ticklish parts of your waist, and when you absentmindedly let your fingers drop to rest on the waistband of his pants, his hips shamelessly twitch up to meet it.
And suddenly there’s something scalding in the look he gives you when he pulls away, grinning.
Synopsis. Your duties as a nanny are simple: pick Itadori Yuji up from elementary school, bathe him, feed him his veggies, and take care of him until his hot blond dad gets home. It doesn’t include something like…spending Valentine’s Day with the overworked, overstressed, absolute DlLF Nanami Kento. Does it?
Does it?
Pairing. Nanami Kento x Reader
Content. MDNI, fem!reader, older!Nanami, age gap, DlLF!Nanami, reader is in early 20’s, Nanami is in 30’s, he’s overworked and STRESSED, down bad!Nanami, desperation, Valentine’s Day, pùssydrùnk Nanami, oraI (fem rec.), p talking, p sIapping, punishments, dégrading but also soft Nanami, spítting, bíting, fíngering, yearning, teaching you, fírst times (yours), Iessons, talking you through it, he’s stern, he’s BIG, BRÉEDlNG BRÉEDlNG BRÉEDlNG, matíng presses, manhandIing, cervíx smoochin, overstím, vírginíty loss (yours), corruption, he’s feraI, DÚMBIFlCATION, calling you ‘momma’, mentions of kids, implied marathon, HEADLÓCKS, creampíes, cúmpIay, Yuji cameos, Papamin, HAPPY ENDING, pet names, swéaring.
Word count. 15.7k
A/N. BOO! SURPRISE VALENTINE’S DAY POST?! HAPPY VALENTINE'S DAY BABYGIRLS <33
Nanami can’t help but sigh—“One more meeting and I’m quitting.”
Even though he knows he wouldn’t.
Those boxed-in, white-collar jobs felt just as lukewarm to quit as they were to work. One learns to numb oneself to the constant drone and sputter of the office, the ceaseless fury of a microwave that wouldn’t heat, and the wail of a printer printing listlessly furlong - too far behind its service date. So was there even a point?
That stupid screech followed him even out of the office: one could ignore the cracks and jolts of joints, but that doesn’t actually stop the noise.
He feels a headache coming on.
But Nanami can’t lie- the pay wasn’t all too bad. Besides, the extra hours helped him pay for the nanny he’d recently hired for Yuji—speaking of, he could hear you shuffling about inside.
His key’s just reaching for the door before it swings wide open.
“Welcome home—!”
And Nanami Kento can’t understand that strange, sweet flutter in his heart.
One of his hands jerks upwards- right to the pounding space above his heart. He knows he must look a bit of a sight right now - a grown man pawing at his chest - and part of him wonders whether this was all the all-nighters taking a toll on him. About time.
But another part of him wonders whether he should consult a cardiologist.
Also about time.
Because it’s been like this ever since he hired you - the vetting process for finding a nanny had been a long and tedious one. And Nanami had rejected (he’s sure) at least fifty different candidates, had been blocked by five different agencies, before he finally landed on you. Either they’d been too strict, or too lenient, or too new, or simply not cut out to handle the benevolent whirlwind that was his adopted son.
The poor man had been on the verge of giving up.
In fact, he was two paragraphs into an email to HR whilst stress-eating a homemade Danish pastry and wondering whether buying his boss flowers would be overkill- when it happened. God, could this day get any worse? First his manager gives him a ton of work just before he clocked off, certainly not in his list of responsibilities, then he’d burned those damn Danish pastries, then one of the nannies he’d interviewed had nearly passed out at the sheer energy Yuji had.
He’d been working more and more these days. And Nanami needed just a few more months - a few more nights putting in overtime before he could-
It was then that the doorbell had rang.
Ba-dump!
He opened the door tentatively, hoping that it wasn’t yet another ambush by a salesperson - each with their bright plastic garbage, and their even brighter smiles. But what he’d been met with instead wasn’t one of those visitors he dreaded…not in the very least. It was you—
And your explanation that you were here because of Shoko.
“Erm- she told me that you were looking for a nanny?” You flashed your conversation with Nanami’s clinical friend as proof. He flickered his gaze over to the screen but his eyes remained unreading—he remembers turning them back over to you.
Blinking at the vision of you.
And you’d slightly jolted at the intensity in them.
Digging through your pin-covered bag, “I also have my CV in here…somewhere.” He watched as you only grew more and more frustrated as that CV evaded you- “It really should be somewhere- give me one second-”
“That’s alri-”
But instead of your CV, your bag had poured out notes and pens in return. So much of it that Nanami marvelled at just how much fit inside that humble satchel. They dropped to the floor and you dived to pick them up, wincing. “I’m so- sorry-”
“Let me.” Crouching down in front of you, Nanami’s much-larger hands had had no trouble scooping all those papers up. In an instant he had them aligned neatly and handed to you. Prim. Proper.
By the tie still ‘round his neck, you guessed he’d just come home from work - and little did you know he’d also just finished four failed interviews for the position of nanny - yet he didn’t have a single blond hair out of line. They were slicked-back and handsome in a way you’d seen only in old movie stars. You thought you saw a few strands of silver.
Lines at the edges of his eyes. That tired strength about him.
It was hard to not ogle him.
Your fingertips brushed his rougher ones as you took the papers from him. “Thank you.”
“It’s my pleasure.” The older man peered down at you—so intense that you could almost feel yourself sinking into the mediocre polyester carpet lining the apartment hallway. Neither of you made a move to get up. “I want to ask you about your availability.”
You’d jumped slightly. “You…you actually want to hire me after that- I mean!”
“Should I not?” And what was this? Nanami Kento had to stifle a chuckle at that? How curious…it must’ve been the work day getting to him at that point- yes. He was feeling a little delirious.
“I mean- please do…”
He’d looked away with a slight smile once you reached into the depths of your bag once more. This time, you didn’t make it erupt in scribbled notes- instead you were pulling out a printed table that looked to be a time table. “Sorry I just- printing makes it easier for me to remember…sometimes.” You explained, “I don’t have any lectures on Wednesday and Friday- and the ones I have on the rest of the weekdays are rather flexible so—”
A college student!
Nanami’s jaw had dropped then.
He knew you looked young but-
A college student?!
“Wait a minute…” One of his hands twitched, almost as if to beckon that time table to himself and make sure.
But then you nodded, “I first met Shoko-san during a medical conference she gave at the university, and she told me you worked late on weekdays. I should be free in the evenings then, but will you be working late on the weekends as well? Because I do have this one professor that really-”
Nanami didn’t know how on Earth the topic of him would’ve even cropped up in your conversations- but he needed to end this.
Now.
Listen. It wasn’t that you seemed like a bad kid- you seemed great, even! But Nanami himself was well into his thirties with absolutely zero idea on balancing Yuji and his work life. So he really didn’t want to burden someone over a decade younger than him with-
“Papa?”
The sweetest, sleepiest voice echoed from inside.
He doesn’t even have to turn his head to know that Itadori was swaying, all decked-out in his Spiderman pajamas, at the end of the hallway. Likely having gotten out for water or because of the ruckus caused outside. He blinked his sluggish eyes open and ogled the two of you.
Nanami doesn’t know why- but he shoots up to a stand. Almost as if he was caught doing something he wasn’t supposed to.
You followed.
Which one of you three was the responsible parent here, by the way?
His parched mouth opened to—what? There was nothing to explain.
It was true that Nanami hadn’t had the time to even stop and think about dating or relationships in the time since he’d adopted Yuji. Not even if he wanted to. And, admittedly, he did have dreams of getting married one day - he watched all those sappy TV shows, alright? He knew how it felt.
He wanted to walk beside someone to that shrine. He wanted to have a few more kids, to give Yuji a bigger family than this. He wanted to quit his dead-end job and move out with his family to a bigger house in the countryside.
But none of that was as important as his son right now.
However, he knew that Yuji saw all those happy couples during pick-up at the elementary school- and his boy was sweet. The sweetest, actually. Nanami knew that Yuji wouldn’t say a single thing about him being the only exhausted father to arrive all alone. Day after day.
The two of them in their lonesome.
His sweet boy would beam the biggest smile nevertheless.
But kids were smarter than adults gave them credit for. Doesn’t he feel that loneliness, too?
Perhaps that was why Yuji ran up to you in an instant.
Right past his haggard father and only towards you - all previous sleepiness now gone - he reached up towards the pretty stranger with the pretty pin-covered bag.
Stubby finger pointing up at a particularly red one—“Do you like Spwiderman, too?”
“Of course.” Leaning down, you smiled warmly at the boy. His hair was a rose-colored mess that stuck up at all odd angles. “And my spidey senses are telling me that a certain someone does, too?”
He gasped, “That’s me!”
Before Nanami knows it, you were held hostage and dragged inside by a particularly overactive pink-haired boy. Shown all around the apartment as part of your tour to be shown-off Yuji’s prized Spiderman-themed bedroom.
And unbeknownst to him - against that lock-and-key and jaded guard - you’d walked into Nanami Kento’s cozy Tokyo apartment (and the strange cavity in his chest that softened whenever you were around).
He sighed.
A college student!
Still, Nanami can’t deny that it’s been a delight having you around.
Despite your packed schedule and your note-filled bag, you were always there to greet him when he came home. Without fail. Either tapping away at some assignment due before midnight, or humming to yourself as you wiped down the kitchen counters—last minute fluffy pancake emergency, he thinks of those nights.
Even though it’d been about eight months since your initial meeting, it’s almost fearsome how easily he’d gotten used to the routine of it all.
Something that should be so mundane - he flips each moment through his mind over and over again until it felt like they made up the grooves of his brain itself. The gyri and the sulci. Or so he’d heard you muttering to yourself as you studied one night.
He’s studied, too. He’s memorized how you’d open the door for him, with a smile across your face and a finger to your lips- telling the older man to be quiet as he shook off his shoes. He’s memorized how you’d never fail to tell him about the leftovers in the fridge as you reached for your satchel. He’s memorized how you’d hesitate to meet his gaze- but smile the brightest once you do, and how you’d linger at the doorstep telling him about Yuji’s day.
Nanami has memorized how it made some dust-covered part of his heart stir. Blinking away the exhaustion of the day.
Nanami Kento has never felt more invigorated than he is during those sparse few minutes that he caught up with you at the end of the night. Voices low, like neither of you wanted to interrupt a sleeping thing—Yuji, yes. But something else, too.
He gets the feeling that it’d feel like this even if you weren’t around as a job. If perhaps the two of you had met- the same age, at the same university.
Maybe in-between the sluggish hours of study sessions where you help him with some particularly hard question. Maybe in the library where he helps you reach some dusty ol’ book from the topmost shelf.
Times like this, he allows himself to dream.
You’d make the best wife.
You were the best nanny he could’ve ever chosen.
But one always has to wake up to one’s alarm. He sets his alarms himself.
“Come in.” Nanami tells you as he shrugs off his coat at the entrance. He watches as you stop in your tracks at the doorway, fiddling with your familiar pin-draped bag. “I’m just about to fire up some brownies for tomorrow.”
You pause.
“I-if it’s not too late and you don’t have any classes early tomorrow or-”
“I’d skip all my classes for some of your brownies.”
He lets out a breath of relief as you start walking back from the doorway. “Please don’t.”
It takes a little less than half an hour for the brownies to bake until they are crisp on the top and perfectly gooey in the middle. Layers of chocolate that are only sweetened by the conversation that you brought into Nanami Kento’s humble kitchen.
He listens as you talk about your day, about that professor that’d been out to get you, about that exam you were sure you’d fail (he knows you won’t in the end). Only adding brief hums of affirmation and nods as the older man sweeps through his counters, broad back turned to you, muscles flexing against his office shirt as he whipped up a hot fudge as well as a strawberry sauce for you to add to your brownies.
“—and you’d never guess what Yuji told me today.” Tonight you seem a little more breathless than usual. Stuttering out your thank-yous as he brings out the tray from the oven and cuts out the first piece for you.
“Blow on it. It’s hot.” Nanami leans over the other side of the kitchen island. He watches as your pretty lips fall into a soft circle, “What were you saying, my dear?”
“Well-” You dart your gaze around the rest of the empty apartment. “You know how it’s Valentine’s Day tomorrow, Nanami-san?”
Nanami runs a hand through his silver-streaked hair. Smoothing it down. He knows how his son can be, and he has to bite back the grin that threatens to spread across his face. “Mhm?”
“Yuji here seems to think that- well…” Bringing a hand up to your lips, fingertips slightly shaking. The brownie was just amazing. “He seems to think that Valentine’s Day is a bit like Christmas, you see. And so the entire day he wouldn’t stop making a list for Cupid.”
Now that piques his interest particularly- Nanami was never a man to skimp out whenever his loved one wanted something. “Oh, is that so? And what does he ask from this ah- Cupid?”
“That is- I don’t even know if this is appropriate for me to say but…” Looking around one last time. “But it seems Yuji is under the impression that we are together.”
“Oh.”
“Together together.”
“Oh.” He can’t help but inch just a little closer- a strange weight in his stomach. Not entirely unpleasant. “I see.”
You’re mustering up a little more courage, “And it seems that what Yuji wants the most this Valentine’s is…for us to get married. Spiderman-themed wedding, he says.” Watching as Nanami’s eyes slightly widen. “B-but of course, I told him that that might not exactly be in erm- Cupid’s range of power! He kept insisting however-”
He looks at you silently as you rub your temples.
“Because then he said a little brother or sister would be fine, too…” Was it time for the conversation about the birds and the bees already? Instead of storks, Yuji relies on Cupid?!
Nanami follows suit, running a hand through the silver streaks in his hair. “Is that so?” He sighs. “I shall have a little talk with him about asking…immoderate requests of Cupid.”
“He’s a sweet boy. Just a little confused.” You smile sheepishly. “Though I can’t really blame him- my friends think we’re together, too.”
Just an inch closer. “I see.”
And Nanami feels your breathing go heavy- enveloped in the hint of his cologne, the sweetness of the brownies, the musk of something that was entirely him. “I-it’s silly, isn’t it…”
He stares at you intently, reading your every reaction. “Quite.” Pupils flickering down your face. Just another inch closer—you wonder how much more space was left, and what you wanted to do with it. “I’m far too old for you, my dear.”
Your lips part-
The clock strikes eleven.
Both of you startle as if shocked with electricity- “I-I really should-”
“Yes, I understand-”
“The brownies were amazing-”
“Please, take this.” He pushes a bag topped with that delicacy and more of whatever topping you liked into your hands.
“Thank you so much.” You rush out breathlessly, other hand snatching your bag from the counter. “Night, Nanami-san—!”
“Goodnight, my dear.”
“And thank you for the brownies!”
The door shuts—with a lingering creak and ebb of your smile behind it. And soon enough Nanami finds himself lumbering in the direction of Yuji’s bedroom.
It’s not long before he stands before the parade of red and blue and masked superheroes: personnel stationed all to take care of the boy with a tuft of pink hair. His precious treasure. Nestled in the middle of his car-shaped bed.
A small bedside light traces a glow across his chubby cheeks.
As he does every night, Nanami walks up to the little boy and crouches down beside the bed. Forearms rested upon the soft mattress, face rested upon his forearms- it was always around this time that Yuji would stir and look up at his father.
“Papa…” He sleepily mumbles. Rubbing his sleep-swollen eyes, “Gone?”
“Mhm.” Nanami nods. “Left just now, sunshine.”
“Awww, man—” Yuji seems to deflate- but that only pushes him deeper into the puffy pillows. Making him yawn so wide that it makes the older man chuckle. “I really like her, papa.”
His father pauses before he answers. “I like her, too, Yuji.”
“No, but- I really like her. You know, she’s my best friend along with Kugisaki and Fushiguro and you-”
Nanami starts tickling the boy on his sides until he bursts into peels of laughter. “Really, huh?”
Through giggles, he nods. Before stretching his arms above his head and falling back onto the comfy bed- perhaps he was still dreaming. “Why can’t we keep her, papa?”
“We can’t just keep people, Yuji.” Nanami has to hide his own smile. He knows he should mention the thing about Cupid right now, but he just can’t bring himself to do it. Maybe tomorrow…
“Yes, but…”
“I know, I know.” Nanami pushes his face deeper into his strong forearms. Sometimes, he still felt much like a kid himself. “I get it.”
.
.
.
The next morning, Yuji still wasn’t giving up.
“Papa, it’s Valentine’s Day!”
Papa was about to burst a blood vessel.
He’d chattered on and on about Valentine’s Day as Nanami shuffled him out of bed, he’d announced what chocolates were the best according to his very distinguished five-year-old palate as Nanami helped him brush his teeth—he’d even turned his nose up at the heart-shaped scones that Nanami had made for breakfast.
“Papa, you’re gonna hafta make better hearts than this if you want to marry-”
“Yuji, sunshine, we’re going to be late.”
Nanami Kento was barely a match for his son. And it’s with something akin to relief - like the exhausted sigh of a stranded man, finally coming across the silhouette of a rescue boat in the bleak horizon - that he manages to hurry the boy into finishing his breakfast. Tuggin’ on his Spiderman backpack, Nanami held Yuji’s hand as they exited the apartment.
Today wasn’t even a school day.
It wasn’t even a school day! And yet the teacher wanted all students in for a short assembly and some chocolate party in class. Nanami would be damned if he didn’t let his son enjoy these small pleasures.
The elementary school that Yuji attended was only a short distance away from the apartment- usually they’d just make the trip by foot. During those ten minutes it’d become routine for the little boy to jabber away about whatever came to his mind.
How unfortunate for Nanami Kento today that, today, all Yuji could think about was you—
Not because Nanami wasn’t doing much the same- but because he didn’t like thinking of himself as doing much the same. Even though he knew. Query: if both father and son couldn’t get you off their minds, then which one of the two was going to use it?
The older man shakes his head just a little as Yuji suggests a Spiderman wedding cake again—he disagrees with both the cake and…the wedding. Right?
But the boy catches the movement and pouts-
“Why don’t you want to tell her, papa?”
They’re stopping at a red light. Nanami didn’t want to think about how those miniscule bulbs had been programmed to flicker in the shape of a heart today, instead of the usual pedestrian walking. What an apt metaphor for his life, no? Nanami Kento wanted to find something wrong in the traffic light - in the visibility, the practicality, the color - but he couldn’t.
In fact, it was rather pretty.
The crossing threatened to bubble over with salarymen and salarywomen and groups of families each hoping to be the first, the fastest, to jump the road. He tugs both himself and Yuji more towards the back where they were well out of the way of whizzing cars. Is it just him or were there more wedding cars than usual today?
“Tell her what? To marry me?” He absent-mindedly answers, “What did I say about no forced marriages, Yuji?”
“No.” He lightly stomps his feet. Making the blond man look down- “I mean why don’t you tell her that you like her, papa?”
And Nanami can’t help but look around like a caught teenager. “You- you can’t just say those things, sunshine! What if she’s heading to class and nearby…”
“But you told me you did last night?” Yuji answers.
Which, fair. And it leaves Nanami slightly at a loss for words. “I…”
“But why can’t you tell her?” The child nods sagely to himself, “S’like when I broke Fushiguro’s red crayon- and I told him. Don’t you always tell me not to lie, papa?”
“That’s…true.” His father hesitates. “But that’s different from-”
“But anyway- that’s why I asked Cupid.” Yuji hums. Content. “You’re a scwaredy-cat, papa, but I asked Cupid for you. Like Santa. And Santa always gives me what I ask for.”
One day, Nanami will consider telling him that Santa had to work a month overtime to get him that car bed—happily however. But that day’s not today. “Oh?”
“Yeah.” He looks up at his father with wide, innocent eyes. “And I also asked Cupid for a bwother- maybe this year I should ask Santa, too.”
“Oh.”
“Do you think Cupid will make my wishes come true, papa?”
“I’m…afraid I can’t be sure, sunshine.”
The light turns green.
And Nanami’s the first to step out onto the road.
From here, even the crosswalk seemed to twist and turn into the shapes of hearts.
Along the rest of the way to his elementary school, Yuji tugs on Nanami’s coat and asks him for his phone—“Alright, but no games before school, Yuji.”
“Not playing games!”
And he didn’t think much of it.
Not until Nanami was on the subway heading to work, about to shoot a phone call to one of the contractors he’d be working with today- and he finds Shoko’s name in his call log.
Outgoing call → Shoko [8:01AM]
Lasted three minutes.
How strange. Nanami doesn’t remember calling his friend at any point today - it must’ve been Yuji during his walk to school.
A mistake?
How strange, indeed…
But to be quite honest, Nanami doesn’t get the time to ponder upon this happening too deeply. The very second he’d considered clicking on that name himself and asking Shoko- the train had slid to a halt at his station.
Then came the chaos of the office: it seems that one of the interns had forgotten to fax a file yesterday. And Nanami had five angry clients on the phone before 9:00AM, one presentation to lead before 10:00AM, a few more angry clients just after the meeting, and a few more contracts to type up and edit before 12:00AM. Those utterly gaudy pink decorations hung about the room didn’t do anything to help with his oncoming headache.
Everyone in the office knew not to wish him today.
By the time that the overworked man was free for lunch, it was close to 2:00PM. His joints pop as he stretches his arms above his head, flickering a look at the clock above.
It was almost time for Yuji to be let out. Nanami knew you’d be humming to yourself as you walked to his school - and if his son was there, he’d join in, too.
At risk of sounding like a creep, he admits that he’s often listened to the low drift of your voice as you walked out of his apartment. It would start up once he shut that door. And he often stood there - on the other end - until it disappeared. Along with the sound of your footsteps.
His house always seemed smaller then.
Shaking his head free of such thoughts, Nanami stands and walks out of his department, wondering what he’ll have for lunch today. This usually wasn’t a problem with him, but this morning he’d been rather a bit…frazzled. So to say.
All those questions and ‘requests’ that Yuji had left him with just barely enough rationality to scrounge up something for the boy. As for himself, he was meandering through the busy streets of Tokyo - tarmac carpets flying by at a pace faster than he ever seemed to be able to. How was it possible for something inanimate to soar, to race, to live more than he did? Was it always built this way or was he one of the unlucky few?
He wonders which category you’d fall into.
That cheap ramen shop down the street wasn’t too bad - their broth was so good that Nanami was almost able to ignore the sappy love songs crooned from their battered radio. They had a special deal going: 80% off for all couples on Valentine’s Day! All ribbons and glitter. All special pink desserts and lovers holding hands. All love…love and a happy elderly couple behind the counter - the owners, it seems.
It was quaint- cute. The type of place he thinks you might like.
As he was walking back to the office, it seemed as though the city was fit to brim with similar sentiments.
Flower shops bursting with bouquets like carnivorous sunsets, bleeding hearts and ruby-red roses. Candy shops with something sweet for every color of the rainbow—and more covert advertisements for more…adult indulgences. Sex shops that Nanami had to speed-walk past because of how full and flush they were. Ripe with Valentine’s Day.
Nanami Kento might try to ignore what today is, but the world sure as hell wouldn’t let him forget.
Once he finally runs back to his cubicle- he ducks his head and focuses his eyes solely on the computer screen. He hopes no one comments on the numerous glitzy bags beside him.
.
.
.
“What the hell are you doing in my apartment?”
“Y’know- most people would say—‘Wow, it’s so nice to see you. Now I should totally stop brushing off your invites for drinks. Thank you for being such a kind and respectful and understanding friend, Ieri Shoko.’” The woman in question stretches languorously on top of the couch, her test tube-patterned socks dangling from the other side. “And you’re welcome, by the way!”
Nanami raises one hand in front of him- almost as if to pause the scene entirely. He closes his eyes—when he opens them, he hopes that this had all been a bad dream and he’ll wake up to his glaring computer screen.
He opens them.
Nope- still real.
“Let me rephrase- what the hell have you done to my apartment?”
Shoko gets off the couch and gestures at the apartment like a magician showing off a trick. “Ta-da!” At all the yellow candles that cast miniature sunrises where they wept, at the music that crept sensually from some mysterious corner of the room, at the humble dining table that now looked like it came out of a Times’ 10 Best Spots To Take Your Lover for Valentine’s Day.
Nanami’s stern lips part as he takes in the silver-covered dishes on top, on top of some white cloth—was that his goddamn blanket?!
“Oh c’mon-” Shoko rolls her eyes. “Don’t act so surprised, I see the bouquet in your hands. You obviously planned something of the sort.”
He forgot about that damn thing. Nearly dropping those flowers in his haste to hide it behind his broad back, though there was really no use - he simply couldn’t stand Shoko’s laughing eyes any longer. “Th-this was for Yuji.”
“I see the smaller bouquet in the bag.” She points out. Almost empathetically, Shoko sighs. “You really aren’t slick, Kento.”
“This isn’t- this is just—” But the longer she smirks at him, the less he seems to have an answer. Soon enough, he’s bringing out that massive bouquet from behind him and letting his friend fawn over the thing.
“Wow, she’s really going to love this-”
“It’s called being nice, by the way!” Nanami answers, belatedly.
The look Shoko gives him is enough to make him click his mouth shut.
“I hope you know that I bought one to give you tomorrow…I’m throwing it out now.” Because no matter how much Nanami denied it, today was about love. Parental. Platonic. Even the love that he could never have. As Shoko rummages through the bag with an excited squeak, he drawls on. “Where even is she, by the way? What have you done to her?”
“Hm? Oh, Yuji called me this morning. Thank you for these, by the way.” Shoko stands with a beautiful yellow rose and purple zinnia bouquet in her arms. She sniffs at the sweet fragrance- “Yuji called me asking whether he should leave out cookies for Cupid just like he does with Santa. It seems he wanted Cupid to bring us a wedding, and guess what? I wanted Cupid to bring us a wedding.” Her face breaks out into a smug smile - the one he’s only seen when she used to cheat through biochemistry exams without anyone ever knowing. “So we called up your darling nanny and let her know that her schedule’s changed for today- then Yuji and I did a little sprucing up in here.”
“Sprucing up…”
She turns around to admire her work, “Honestly, Kento, if I knew that you didn’t have a romantic bone in your body then I’d have dissected you-‘
“Papa!”
Spared from hearing whatever gory plans that Shoko had for him by the excited yelp of his son—Nanami hears his footsteps before he sees him. He feels the impact before he sees him.
Yuji’s running down the hallway and launching himself at his father at full speed- “Papa, you’re home!”
“That I am, sunshine.” Nanami smiles down at the boy. “How was your day? I have something for you.”
“For me?” Tufts of pink curls bobbing as he cocks his head, following his father’s movements as Nanami crouches down and reaches into one of the bags. Before breaking out into the most brilliant smile at the sight of the flowers. “Woah- they’re so pretty—! Thank you.”
Crushing the bouquet of pink carnations and hydrangea to his chest, he wraps his arms around Nanami’s shoulders and hugs him.
“Happy Valentine’s Day, papa. I’ve got a gift for you, too-” Breaking away, Yuji’s throwing an arm out towards the room at large. “Auntie Shoko said this was how you bring Cupid! And we also tried to make those heart-shaped cupcakes you make, but it tasted like tar so…”
“That’s perfectly alright, Yuji.” He swipes at a smear of icing still on the boy’s face. “We can learn together on my next day off, right?”
“Right!” Yuji jumps in excitement. “And after your wedding today-‘
“Yuji…”
“And right on time.” Shoko’s voice permeates the room- right alongside the sharp fwip! of the window shutters closing. She turns away from the glass and pushes off from her station. “C’mon Yuji, now the plan is a-go! Go! Go!”
“Aye-aye!” With a chubby hand raised in salute—Yuji wastes no time giving his father a final hug. “Bye bye, papa.”
“Wha-” Nanami looks at the harried duo in confusion. “What are you two-”
“And don’t mess this up, Kento.” Shoko gives him a stern wave.
Before she clasps Yuji’s hand and helps the boy match her longer stride- the two of them speed-walk in the direction of the door.
“Yeah- don’t mess this up, papa!”
“Uh, where are you taking my son?” Nanami stalks after them. Not letting the front door close behind them, he watches the two figures - bouquets and all - race down the hallway. How strange that they didn’t take the usual route - instead opting for the one that would let them leave through the back entrance. “Hello? Shoko-”
“Don’t mess this up!”
He has half the mind to chase after them - it’s not that he doesn’t trust Shoko with his son, but really, what on Earth could they be getting up to?! Especially so late past Yuji’s bedtime. At the very least, maybe he could run up to them and let Shoko know of his son’s Spiderman ritual before eating and the tendency he has to bite fingers when-
“Nanami-san?”
Your voice.
Was he dreaming?
And yet—Nanami snaps his head towards the source of the noise so fast that it almost causes whiplash. He breathes your name out in a whisper.
So this is what Shoko meant about-
“Am I hallucinating or is that Shoko-san and Yuji running down the fire escape?” You point at something beyond his line of vision, though Nanami doesn’t need to look to know that it is, in fact, Shoko and Yuji running down the fire escape.
“I think I’m hallucinating, to be quite honest.” He mutters. Because surely there was no conceivable world in which he would see you like this - standing outside his door on Valentine’s Day, looking all gorgeous as you always did - and dare to bring out the bouquet that he had bought for you. Also was that…was that a bit of make-up you’d dabbed on? More so than usual?
His eyes linger on the glitter beside your eyes.
The thought that it might’ve been because it’s today - that it might’ve been because you’d been as nervous about seeing him today as he was about seeing you - makes him jolt. He’d been smoothing his hair down the entire subway ride home thinking of you.
Thirty-something years and he’s acting like a teenager in puppy love.
Certainly no conceivable world…
And yet…he does. He reaches behind him to bring out that prideful bouquet: 520 flower-heads that blushed themselves silly over not being even half as beautiful as you.
“For you.” He croaks out. Awkwardly pushing up his glasses.
“Oh.” Your jaw drops, and the bouquet weighs heavy in your hands. In nothing but a whisper- “It’s beautiful, Nanami-san.”
Red, red roses.
.
.
.
Nanami explained the situation before he invited you in…somewhat.
Certainly nothing about how badly he’d been teased because of this little scheme or the ah- confession of feelings. Heavens, no! Nanami himself wasn’t entirely sure whether he’d go along with their plan…
As far as you knew, Shoko and Yuji thought it’d be a funny little prank to ‘invite Cupid’ into his apartment this Valentine’s Day. Leaving the two of you alone in an apartment draped in candles and roses like the most deviant of mistresses.
And Nanami knew you knew. You knew that Nanami knew.
The implications were there for all to see.
It was there in the way his face burned red, and Nanami couldn’t meet your eyes- “I’m aware of how it looks. And it seems that my son still holds the idea that erm…either way, ahem, I completely understand if you would much rather go home. Please do know that this will not affect your job in any way whatsoever- in fact, I will cover your fee double tonight-”
“Nanami-san.” You’d interrupted him. Cocking your head with a slight smile, “May I come in?”
From there he’d been the perfect gentleman - not that he wasn’t usually. Even in the months since you’d worked for him, you’d come to find that Nanami was the type of man that opened doors for you, that pushed your chair for you, that covered your taxi fare home, that escorted you as far as he could by foot either way.
But now…oh, right now he was putting any Prince Charming to shame.
He had his hand hoverin’ right above your waist- leading you inside to the romantic dinner table. Here, he’d pushed your chair for you—and before you could even thank him, Nanami had his hands helping you out of your coat.
He insisted on plating for you.
You couldn’t help but gawk at the way his biceps pushed against his work button-up, flexing slightly as Nanami stood beside the table and neatly cut your bread - one he’d baked just this morning, according to him. Shoko had clearly rummaged through his kitchen well…
Conversation was somewhat breathless at first- the both of you waiting for the other to go first. The both of you anticipating every single word.
Wondering what every single word meant.
But after the first two courses - Shoko certainly hadn’t burned these - the both of you were talking freely. Moving on from the more polite topics, like your day, his day, that were really a front for something more - speaking with Nanami was always so easy, he was the best listener you’ve had in a while—to dessert: strawberry shortcake cupcakes and a confession that slips from your lips.
“Y’know- this is the first Valentine’s Day I’m spending like this.” You giggle, wiping off the cream that sticks to your lips. Nanami watches with half-lidded eyes as you devour the delicacy he’d baked this morning.
He swirls his half-empty wine glass. Certainly not enough to get the man tipsy - Nanami was quite the heavy drinker when he wanted to be - but enough to make him ask. “Oh? Tell me more, my dear.”
The candlelight catches on the rim of his glasses, encasing his eyes in an intense glow. You think he looks even more handsome like this- “Sorry. It’s probably going to sound stupid to someone more experienced…”
“There is nothing you’d say that would be stupid.” He pushes his glasses further up his sharp nose. Fingers crossing before him, he leans in. “Continue, my dear.”
“It’s just- I haven’t had many serious relationships, is what.” You admit. And he looks at you so intently- “With life and university, it’s hard to find the time—if I was looking anyways, that is.” You sputter, before he can ask anything about whether the nanny job was cutting into your time. “The selection in my department isn’t great at all.”
“So…” Nanami runs the tip of his finger ‘round that glass cup. The thin rim. The gaping mouth. “-no lil’ boyfriend, then?”
“No boyfriend.” You echo. And perhaps being drunk on the proximity is what makes you blurt out- “But if I did have one, I think I’d like someone older—”
He quirks a brow in interest, “Older?”
You nod. Crossing your arms in slight embarrassment, “Boys my age will ask you out and then go halfsies just because you don’t want to go home with them.”
“Mhmm.” Nanami’s lip curls in distaste.
“I just want someone to like me for me- y’know? Just to sit across from me like this and really talk to me for once.”
“Has no boy ever wined and dined you like this?” He asks.
“No.” You admit, somewhat sheepishly.
“Has no boy ever bought you flowers?”
“No.” You cast a look at the 520 roses - now housed in a large vase that Nanami had pulled out from one of his cabinets.
“No…” You breathe.
He inches forwards, forwards, forwards—and wipes at a remnant of sweet, sweet cream on your lips. That roughened edge of Nanami’s thumb grazes the edge of your mouth. “Has no boy ever been sweet to you like this?” He catches the look in your eyes. And his own lower. “Has no boy ever treated you like a man would, my dear?”
The older man doesn’t hesitate in reaching his thumb back up to his mouth- and lickin’ off the cream. “Has no boy ever eaten you out like this?”
“No-”
Your lips upon his are even sweeter than the cupcakes he’s baked- and he’s lavishin’ his tongue over your mouth gently. Opening you up so wide—
And even that isn’t enough.
Nanami’s thumb finds permanent purchase at the end of your chin, letting his own sinful tongue slip inside. In and out. In and out. In and out.
Almost as if he was fucking you with it-
You’re not sure how long Nanami’s kissing you like this.
Maybe minutes. Maybe hours.
You’ve lost track of time- and the only thing you know is that your head feels dizzy. Your knees were growing weak in your seat. A slick line of spittle glides down the side of your mouth- and Nanami reaches a thumb up to smeeear it.
“My dear…” He murmurs, his deep baritone taking on a husky tone. Hot breath fans across your face, heating you up from the inside out.
You’re raising your face to meet his molten gaze- and it almost shocked you just how handsome Nanami Kento is. Noble features chiselled in the soft candlelight. His mouth slightly kiss-swollen. Blond hair unravelling from his usual neat style n’ cascading across his forehead.
He reaches closer to you and siiinks his teeth into your lower lip, “Have you ever been kissed like that- here before?”
You squirm. Shaking your head-
But he tugs on your pretty maw. “Tell me in words, honey.”
Gulping as one of his rugged hands snakes down your middle. A carnal jolt echoes through your body once Nanami presses the edge of his palm between your skirt- your legs. “I…” You think of all the disappointing dates you’ve been on before, of all the disappointing hands in places almost forgettable. “Not like that, Nanami-san.”
“Now now—when we fuck, call me Kento.” He mutters, finally making his way ‘round the table. Before you know it, he’s looming over you- and two of his strong hands rest underneath your legs. “Upsy daisy.”
He’s lifting you uuuuuup, up, up to splay out across the dinner table.
Lifting you like you weighed nothing.
Pushing aside first and foremost those plates and flowers- you’re being rolled with your back against the tabletop, and Nanami’s honed hips pinning you down. A dimly-lit halo of light behind his golden hair. He wastes no time before throwing both legs of yours on top of his shoulders- “M’gonna teach you how a real man eats pussy.”
You nod-
“First lesson. Big girls use their words.”
And your jaw drops—
“K-Kento—”
You’re not sure whether the primal noise escapes you because of his words, his tone, or because of the utterly desperate way that Nanami Kento falls to his knees. Thud!
Loud enough that it should hurt- but you don’t think it even registers in Nanami’s frenzied brain right now.
Not when he was pushing up that damn sinful skirt of yours- extra tight tonight. Nanami wasn’t a fool - he knew what you were doing. Not when he was starin’ deeply at your pussy, all wet through your panties and throbbing so hard he could practically see it.
Count it.
One-two-three.
Not when he was worshipping you as close as a man possibly could—“Not quite the answer I was looking for.” Then the next thing you’re hearing is a sudden thwack! The next thing you’re feeling are the five pointed tips of Nanami’s thick fingers, smacking down on top of your pussy. “But I’ll let it slide since s’your first time being eaten out all properly, mhm?”
“Mhm.” You nod.
“What was that?” Those mean fingertips of his raise again.
“Yes, Kento.” You’re hurrying to answer. And just as a little reward, Nanami smears his digits atop your swollen folds.
“That’s more like it.” The glaze of your sweetened slick lets out the loudest squelch, and you squirm as he’s tuggin’ aside your panties with a single index. “Are you ready, my dear?”
“Yes-”
“Are you excited, my dear?”
“Yes-”
“Good girl.”
Let the feast begin, he’s thinking. And Nanami Kento doesn’t wait. Nanami Kento doesn’t tease n’ toy. Nanami Kento doesn’t even swivel his fingertips around your wet hole more than a few times to check how soaked you are before he’s taking what he wants—he doesn’t have the damn time for anything else.
He’d been starving for far too long.
And the closer n’ closer he gets to your pussy, the more his mouth waters.
Nanami’s left drooling at the mere sight of your wet fuckin’ hole—you swear you could hear his stomach start to growl. Fuck.
He gulps.
He takes a single sniff.
With a sudden lurch - like he couldn’t hold it back any longer - he leans up and shoves his face nose-deep between your legs.
His tongue swiping your hole, jaw hittin’ the end of your slit.
He’s curving that wet, wet muscle against your walls. Just so soft that it feels as if you’re melting around him- “Fuck.” It escapes him- harsh and cracking. A primal groan at the back of his throat - one he doesn’t seem to even realize himself. “Fuck.”
You tremble at the tone.
Because there was something dark in it. Something almost…predatory.
This was nothing like the calm, composed Nanami Kento that you were used to - absolutely nothing. This was…you didn’t even have words for it.
So fiercely needy that it shoots electricity up your spine- Nanami’s tongue was ravenous. He was holding onto both sides of your legs and- and correction…he wasn’t merely holding onto them. Nanami Kento was using all his strength to push them as faaaar apart as they would go before suffocating himself on your sopping wet cunt.
Such strong hands. Furious tongue.
No matter how much you’re bucking your hips- he just keeps fucking his muscle between your wet pussylips like the last thing on his mind was breathing.
Swooping his head even deeper and munching for more. More. More, more, more.
Nanami crushes his mouth against your pussylips - so deep that you start to wonder whether his oral area would start to bruise—
And it’s only because of that broken call of his name that Nanami flinches. He freezes. He puffs out a murky breath. As if only now registering where he was, what he was doing, and just what his name was at the moment-
He’s breaking free from your pussy with an echoing slurp!
“K-Kento…” You’re looking on in pure worry at the dazed man - his eyes were still glazed, and there was something almost…feral about his demeanour still. Though he seemed to be much calmer than before, “Kento, are you okay to contin-”
“I am.” His voice comes out strong. Firm. Like he’s never been more sure of anything in his entire life.
Nanami lets out a few stilted breaths- running a hand through his now-unruly hair. The glisten of a silver streak in it. “I am. I just…it’s been a long time…forever, actually, since I’ve tasted anything so delicious.” Wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, “I hope you can forgive this old man for getting a little carried away, my dear.”
Was he really that ruined from but a single taste of your cunt?
He stares down so long and deeeep at your quivering pussy. That cute hole peeking out from your panties—“She’s just so…sweet.”
And though he was speaking to you, Nanami looks down lovingly between your legs.
Now that he didn’t have his lips all plastered to your folds- he was rubbin’ his right thumb vertically down your slit.
Pressing down on the cute button of your clit-
“Awww did I scare you, honey? I sure hope I didn’t.” Honey, because you were just too sweet sizzlin’ on his tastebuds. Guiding one of your hands to grip his scalp, “Forgive me. When it gets like that, don’t be afraid to pull me- to use me, alright?”
“Kento, you don’t have to-”
“Consider it my second lesson.”
You squirm, “B-but don’t they say to…respect your elders, Kento?”
And you’re just too cute—he can’t help but flatten his palm down and spank your pussylips once more. It makes so many beads of slippery slick spray out from your cunt n’ glue against that chin of his. “You certainly can.” He hums, thoughtful. “But just remember- I won’t be respecting this pussy, honey.”
“I see.” You gape.
And while speaking to you - while speaking to you - Nanami lavishes out lil’ kitten licks between your folds. Lick. Lick. “I bet this pretty pussy’s never been eaten out like that before, huh?” He continues. Merely peeking up at you through blond lashes to confirm- and you can only nod—
Yet another spank sputtering down on your wet crevice.
“Words.” Nanami reminds.
Hiccuping, “Yes, please. All those boys usually just like- graze my clit and that’s all.”
He nods. He continues, voice nothing but deep murmurs that sets your entire body aflame - and it’s as though the more syllables he’s uttering, the harder n’ harder he rubs on your clit. “Awww poor girl. I just can’t help but think of how long this pussy has been wasted on- haaah, boys who didn’t know how to handle her.”
“Too- too long.”
Lovingly—almost drunkenly, he’s pressing a direct peck against your hole. The tip of his tongue just lightly slipping out and teasing your entrance- Nanami’s free hand grips onto your thigh as if holding himself back. “Mmmm, that’s what I thought.” He murmurs. “And how long has she waited to be eaten out by a man who isn’t afraid to get a little…sloppy?”
“Too long-”
At this, he chuckles. “And as for my last question-” Not even smooching anymore- he’s just smeeeeaering his puffy lips along your slit. More rapid. More hungry. “Actually- take this as my third lesson.”
You’re scrambling up onto your elbows. “Yes?”
“Can you settle down like a good girl?”
Whatever that means…you aren’t given the time to figure out. Because before you know it, Nanami purses his lips and plants a wad of spittle that hits your cunt with a wet splat!
Only making you even wetter for him to gape his jaw open- “Fuck.” For him to swirl his ridged tip around and around your snug entrance until it left your mind all dizzy, it makes your cunt streeeeetch incredibly once he digs the tip of his tongue inside. Thoroughly.
It’s almost as if he was splitting you apart on the thickness of his tongue.
Expanding and contracting. Expanding and contracting.
The stretch is so incredible that it leaves your mind searing
“Settle down. Settle doooown-” He’s humming in a low tone. Whenever Nanami feels you squirmin’ or clenching just a tad too hard, he’s making note of that particular spot and bashing it all in again. Thick muscle reaching in and out for your deepest depths until your tight hole can’t take it anymore- until you’re screaming for mercy.
“Oh fuh-fuuuuck—” You’re arching straight off the table, the fabric clinging onto your skin briefly. Only for a few split-seconds before one of Nanami’s hands fastens onto your hips, pushing you right back down where you came from.
“What did I say?” He wasn’t even using much of his strength- you were just so easy for him to move ‘round. Especially when he has his mouth attached to you in a way that was so ravenous—
Ruined.
“Settle. Fucking. Down, girl.”
Pinning you to the flat surface and letting his gaped maw run wiiiiiiild. It’s making you realize that he wasn’t going feral in the beginning- he was merely holding back.
Both in strength and in pure carnal hunger.
No matter how badly you were craving to grind down restlessly on his face for hours- Nanami keeps you on a tight leash. He keeps you restrained on the table n’ getting only what’s given. Pushing down. Maneuvering his greedy mouth. No matter how much you wanted to plant your feet down and take control - Nanami Kento really does know what’s best.
“Failing the third lesson already, huh?”
Tears stream down your cheeks without you even realizing. “S-sorry, I didn’t-”
“Shhhhh shh shh. No need for an apology, honey.” He opens his swollen lips up wider n’ latches them around your clit for a few seconds. “My poor girl’s just overstimulated because she’s getting her pussy eaten out, huh? This pretty pussy’s just excited?”
“Yes-”
“That’s why your Kento’s here.” Nanami hums, his cold glasses frames hit the front of your cunt and you flinch. Making the man push them up his nosebridge with a chuckle—“And m’gonna take care of this pussy, baby.”
The way that Nanami looks dead-set into your widened peripherals as he says this makes your heart race.
Spitting a few more times down your dribbling slit. He was teeeeasing you before reaching his right hand down n’ smearing your pussylips open with two fingers- the rugged tips of his index n’ middle streeetching your damp hole apart. Just so goddamn thick. “Fourth lesson: sometimes…fingers feel even better.”
“O-ohhh—” Your voice breaks out in carnal trills. Trying to bend your spine but then holding yourself back-
He was thrashing inside a few more sloppy strokes - swiping, slurping, scrapin’ every inch of your velvety walls. Anywhere you could think of, his thickened digits were pumping in.
At one point, he flicks his glistening tongue outside for you to take in his sheer size. “Size does matter when it comes to pleasing this needy pussy, alright? Don’t let any fuckin’ boy convince you otherwise.”
You mewl, “I-I wouldn’t need another boy if I just had you, Kento…”
And there’s something in his tone that sounds ecstatic- “Mmm, good girl.” Showing you a demonstration of his previous statement by mazin’ away straight towards your g-spot. And you could feel yourself shaking- all those times you had to worry about whether a guy could manage to make you cum?
Nanami was eatin’ you out like his one and only purpose in life was to make you cum.
“Always teasing me.” He scoffs out in a scalding breath. Raggedly running his mouth- his tongue. “Always riling me up with those pretty looks and that- damn-” Pushing and pushing onto your g-spot so hard that it makes you sob out of pleasure. “-mouth.”
Your jaw drops. “I l-love it—fuck.”
Practically on instinct, you’re gliding a hand down your tummy- where you could feel butterflies. They only seemed to grow even harder n’ rougher with his textured tongue…“I think I can feel you right- ngh, here.”
“S’that so? You love it, huh? I can feel this pussy growin’ so wet—She’s so fucking tight, bet she’s never been fingered properly before.” As if anticipating your next moves, he’s digging his fingers deeper against your flesh. Leaving little crescent marks.
Whatever rational part of you is left begins to wonder just why he might have to pin you down even harder.
“And for my fifth lesson, honey.”
You’re waiting with baited breath as he presses a few more heated-open-mouthed kisses. Nanami’s luscious tongue reaching spots inside you that you weren’t even sure you had - ones undiscovered—
And it’s the only warning you get before the puckered, pretty flaps of his mouth opens up your pussylips. Just past where your folds were all swollen n’ tight- it was quite a squeeze even when it was just his tongue. Just his fingers.
So to have both Nanami’s fingers and his tongue inside?
It was sheer madness.
It was driving you stupid with his touch in but a single stroke- the jostling feeling of his wet muscle and his digits pressing against your walls and each other. Your walls. Each other. Your walls. Each other. Your channel was so snug that even the slightest movements made it feel as though you were bulging from the inside.
Pressing in. Fucking in.
In and in, and in—
“A real man is- haaah, always hungry.” Alternating between slipping his tastebuds into your hole, and then fishing himself back out—not to breathe. No, not even close. He was merely roverin’ his mouth over to spank down on your clit. “A real man would never get tired of his lover, my dear.”
“Kento—ngh.” You’re echoing out.
Your moans bang against the four corners of the room and straight into his ears- the prettiest song he’s ever heard. “See how good you feel? S’only my duty to you, my dear.”
“But Kento-”
Mouth makin’ out with your cunt as if he’d gone mad, too.
“Kento, don’t you need to breathe-”
“Fifth lesson. Who cares about breathing?”
He gasps out in interruption. Tongue swiping at a constant rhythm - it was difficult to get a single syllable out when all Nanami wanted to do was stick himself to your cunt and lick and lick and lick—
Both of you are realizing at the same time that he’d miscounted.
“For my fifth…” And he sounded maddened, too. Octaves higher. Tone breathy. There was a feral sort of hunger in his eyes that shook you to your core- “Sixth…?” As if he was just so pussydrunk that it was causing his brain to melt, acting on pure carnal instinct. “For my sixth lesson, honey. This old man’s mind is a little foggy, you see…”
You don’t get the chance to answer.
Because with that, Nanami only accelerates. First those fingertips of his were shoved all the way in and making your walls twitch with every hard prod—thud-thud-thudding way. Then he was smoochin’ over that same bruised spot with his slithering tongue, just swipin’ up where you were most sensitive.
Before draaaaagging all the way out and about to suck on your clit. Throbbing so hard that he managed to time his lil’ bites to each pulse.
It was a dual sensation that left you driven mad. Absolutely mad.
Rubbin’ his fingers absolutely raw on those knotted bundles of nerves-
You buck.
You get hit with a sudden spank.
“Mmmm—do you think you deserved that, my dear?” He asks. Too cute- the more he eats you out, the more he’s twitching in his pants.
You sob, but you’re nodding. “Y-yes…”
Another spank.
“What was that?”
“Yes, Kento.”
“Good girl.” And honestly you could feeeel that sultry stretch of his grin—gently dabbing his tongue over your clit. Nanami Kento might’ve been a stern man, but he certainly wasn’t merciless. “But forget one more time and I’ll make you call me ‘sir’.”
You couldn’t deny the way that made your cunt twitch…
“Seventh and final lesson.” Nanami pronounces, his mouth slicked with so many layers of your sap that it gleamed—he wore those dangles of goopy syrup like a medallion. “When I make you cum- hah, you better reward me by cumming aaaaaall inside my mouth, honey. Or my cock.”
Your throat was utterly parched by now. And the only thing you could do was rasp out- “U-understood, Kento…”
Soon enough, he was babbling out hot breaths of something you could barely even understand- though each promise only sounded more ravenous than the last.
Mouth glued to your cunt. Nails digging into your skin. Rougher than you ever thought was possible before, he’s sucklin’ at your clit and pounding his fingers into you so hard that it looked like nothing but a blur—
Nanami counts one, two, three rapid clenches of your pussy walls-
Before you’re throwing your head back and absolutely shattering into your high because of him.
Your toes curling. Your throat ragged raw.
His textured tastebuds are swipin’ across every bead of slick you were dripping out. Dripping. Every bead of slick. All over your puffy pussylips. All between them till he meets your hole- even all the way up your inner thighs.
He wasn’t letting a single bit go to waste.
Not even as that translucent sap dribbles down the sides of his mouth and ends up splashin’ right up to his handsome cheekbones-
The pleasure washes over you twofold - both with your orgasm and the way that Nanami was eloooongating your orgasm. Both his fingers and his mouth were working overtime to press into each peak of your high. “O-oh—” Thighs trembling on top of his shoulders- you don’t know when, but they end up locked so tight around his head. “It feels s-so good.”
Each tiny curve of his fingers made your body twitch in the aftershocks. “Extra lesson- fuck back into me.”
“Wh-what?”
It takes you a significant amount of effort to even open your eyes - let alone start to swerve your body uuup n’ down. And yet you’re doing it anyway—moaning as you ride all of Nanami’s handsome features in looooong, sloppy drags. “Fuh-fuck, like this?”
And he was just loving it.
“Mhmmm.” He gurgles out. Cracking one eye open, “Exactly. I know this is the best fuckin’ orgasm you’ve ever experienced, my dear.”
He wasn’t even being cocky - and you usually would’ve called him out on it - this was just plain true. “I-it is-”
“I know this pretty pussy wants it again, my dear.”
You can only nod.
“I know I surely want to eat her again, my dear.”
And nod and and nod as he’s fucking you through even the tiniest peaks and spasms—the surplus of bliss making your veins bubble. Burst. Bulldoze your senses as you’re practically vibrating with the sheer amount of pleasure that runs through them.
There seems to be a hazy aura covering your vision as you finally ride through your entire high.
Struggling up onto your elbows once more-
“Stay down—”
“Yes…?” Your eyes widen at Nanami’s strict order. He leaves a final slurping kiss at your clit before he stands onto his feet. Slightly swaying—
There was a glaze over his eyes. There was your slick coating all the way from his lower face, and puddling dooown to form a dark patch on his button-up. There were the short, panted breaths he was emanating - like a predator honed in on his prey - the longer he looked at you splayed out on the messy table.
Nanami Kento almost looked drunk - and not on the dinner, not even on the sparse wine.
He was completely n’ utterly ruined on nothing other than your pussy.
He lunges towards you-
“Fuck, Kento—” You’re squealing at the rugged hands that tear through your clothes as easily as if they were butter. Shirt and bra easily landing on the carpeted floor- and your skirt was to follow before you even realized.
You’re just about to help Nanami shuffle you out of your panties - hips raising to facilitate it - before he takes another look at you. One long, hard look. And his hands leave your body as though that was enough-
He wanted your panties on.
Nothing but a sopping wet mess twisted ‘round your hips. Evidence of his depravity.
“I want these off then.” You’re reaching up to tug on one of Nanami’s sleeves. He was still partly in his office clothes: button-up, formal pants, tie. And those sleeves of his had been pushed up to his elbows during your dinner, leaving you struggling not to gawk at the older man’s forearms. Strong. Slightly veined. Slightly tanned.
He was just so attractive that it made you squirm.
Nanami looks down at himself and lets out a hoarse—“Oh…right.” Like he’d been so caught up in you that he hadn’t even realized he was still clothed.
Pop!
Pop!
Pop!
Pop!
Those neat white buttons end up flinging to the ground- useless against his sheer desperation. Nanami wastes no time before tearing through his layers, ripping them off. Fabric pools onto the carpet below. His belt buckle clangs as it hits the ground.
Gentlemen couldn’t deny such a thing when their lover’s asking so nicely, could they? At least Nanami couldn’t-
And fuck…
Now, you always assumed that Nanami Kento was the kind of guy to be well-built. It was naturally in the way he moved, the way he stood, in the broadness of his shoulders.
But you’d never in your wildest dreams could have imagined that he’d be this chiselled. This toned.
You have to stop yourself from ogling him—you have to. But you can’t help it.
Not when Nanami’s body was ridged and curved in muscle- almost Herculean in nature. He had pecs that looked lush enough for you to bite - and you could already feel your mouth start to water - with a faint coating of golden and silver hair scattered across his skin. Wide shoulders. Trim waist.
His biceps flexin’ as he moves onto the buttons of his pants.
Lined through the middle with similar golden hair that drove down, down, down…
But you think your favorite part of him wasn’t the muscles or the hardness- no. Though they were certainly a nice addition, what made your pussy throb the most was just how…thick Nanami Kento was.
It was evident that Nanami was the type of person who liked hitting the gym often- but then again, it was evident that Nanami was the type of person who didn’t have the time to be hitting the gym often.
As often as he used to, at least.
And you? You were loving it.
Because all those muscles of his were naturally-formed. But with all the years of responsibilities as a father which meant his body was comforted by a layer of slight chub, big. Strong. Suddenly, you understood why ‘dad-bods’ were all the craze on social media—because you - for one - couldn’t help but linger your eyes at the sight of the softness to his shape. The slight roundness to his belly, abs barely peaking through.
“My dear…”
“Kento.”
He presses a thumb against the hemline of his trousers-
And then he’s letting you see him—all of him.
From his V-shaped waist to his meaty thighs.
So thick. So strong.
You just wanted to be crushed between them.
And right down to the furious cock that stood upright and erect between them. Such a bulbous red tip, streaming with never-ending ribbons of pre. Such a thickened shaft that made you swallow—he had so many veins zipping down either side of him. You think he was about nine or so inches- perhaps on the lower end.
Before you’d realized it, you’d been reaching your hand between his legs- only for Nanami to stop you in your tracks.
“K-Kento…”
His thick fingers intertwine with yours and press your hand down on the tabletop. “Honey, you don’t have to reciprocate.” The older man stares deeply into your eyes- “You don’t owe me anything. I ate your pretty pussy out because I’ve been starving for her.”
“But I still want to.” You insist.
“Mmmm, how about after then?” He reaches his free hand up n’ thumbs across your bottom lip. “As much as I want to paint these beautiful lips with my cum, there’s another pair who’ve been waiting patiently for their turn…”
You shiver, “Erm- Kento, you should know that…this is my first time.”
He pauses. “Excuse me, my dear?”
“I’ve never done it before.” Looking up at him through your tear-draped lashes. “You’ll be my first.”
The thought takes a second to register in the older man’s sex-hazed mind. That animalistic part of him being overpowered by the rational.
Your first time.
Your first time.
Your first time.
He was about to take the virginity of that cute lil’ nanny he’s had his eye on for so long. “Honey, are you su-”
“Yes.”
Nanami almost moans at the sheer eagerness in your voice - your eyes were shining, and your legs locked tighter around him. “Well…” The man starts, dipping two thumbs down to your glistening pussy and spreading your folds wide open. He takes a good look at your entrance in comparison to the thickness of his cock, “Brace yourself then, my dear. S’gonna be a tight fuckin’ fit.”
In a split-second, he’s jerking his hips closer and smoochin’ your naked cunt with his cock. His rounded tip spreading your pussylips. His shaft sliding between your slit and massaging you with his veins.
Nanami was so goddamn hard that it looked painful.
And what better way to alleviate the pain than by pushing his pretty lil nanny’s legs apart and shoving his cock between them? Aching and needy for you.
Nanami was big enough to fuck you stupid with just his tip.
And he knows it, too. Having such a hard time completely fittin’ in his crowned girth, he just barely fucks the top of his shaft inside before groaning. Taking a peek at the way you were squirming below him, sobbing below him. Absolutely ruined- “Shit, honey.” Cupping his hilt with his left hand- Shit, honey, can you recite the lessons for me?”
You’re wobbling up onto your elbows, “Recite them?”
He can only nod. “Just—oh.” Cut off with the slightest sliiiiide between your sweet, swollen pussylips- he’s only managing to nudge the rounded edge of his length. “Just recite them. You have them memorized f’me like a good girl, yeah?”
“Yes-” Nodding frantically. “Yes, Kento-”
And that cute obedience of yours is enough to make him smile- tap-tap-tappin’ away the curve of his tip down there. For absolutely no other reason than wanting to. “Good.” He reels his hips back. “Then say it f’me, my dear.” And then forwards- “Say it while I fuck you.”
And the only thing you can fucking do is to babble out those words- the very same ones that’d been drilled into you. “The first lesson is that—fuck.” All the while Nanami’s probin’ tip enters your hole in a sudden thrust. “-th-that big girls use their words.”
Nanami grunts, voice shot. “Goooood good good- keep breathing now.” Hand clawing down your front—feeling for himself as he pumps inside. Tiiiight fucking fit, like he said. He almost wonders whether it would go in- “And then?”
“The second…”
But it’s almost impossible to remember- to even think with those rapidfire haaaard hammers of his cock.
That curved tip of his shaft kept pushing iiiin with the most lecherous squelches, drawing more n’ more sweetened slick out of you with every single thrust. That stretch was just incredible- it was making you see white. Just the first few inches of his pretty pink cock squeezing inside and pushing in and in and in—
Thwack!
Those rugged fingertips of his come spanking back down on your cunt - this time, however, they fit between your pussylips and latch onto your clit. And they stay there. He’s tuggin’ on that poor nub a few times just to bring you back to your senses- “Awww, you didn’t think you’d go unpunished for that—-did you, my dear?”
“I-I—no.” Because tears stream down your cheeks, and Nanami still isn’t letting go. He’s flopping out his tongue and lapping at that salty flavor-
“Then continue.” Humming at the taste of you. Fitting and fitting and—trying to stretch your elastic hole out to take him. It’s the first time you’ve ever felt something like this. “You’re doing so good. Keep going for Kento.”
Thwack!
“Keep talking, honey.”
“Second lesson-” Unable to do anything but arch your back, you’re being met with Nanami’s soft chest. Those pecs. The thundering of his heartbeat. It’s enough to make your mouth already water—“t-to…use you.”
He leans in, “What was that, my dear? Old man, you know…”
“To use you-”
“To not be afraid to use me.” He corrects.
And it’s the last thing you hear before both Nanami’s hands snake down to grab your ankles- restraining them. Tightening them.
He’s bending you easily in half.
Legs on top of his shoulders. Thighs against thighs.
Pushing you all the way back into a mating press.
A fucking mating press.
Of course the hot DILF that you’re nannying for puts you in a mating press. Of fucking course!
And it’s only causing you to become wetter than you’ve ever been in your entire life- your head falls back against the table surface. Thud! An action that makes the older man on top of you reach behind n’ cushion the back of your scalp. “Easy there, my dear. Eeeeeasy.” His left palm lightly massages your sweaty head.
“K-Kento-” Through your tears.
“Easy there- third lesson, remember?”
“To s-settle down…”
“That’s my girl.” Nanami hums, head threatening to tip backwards at the sensations of your quivering cunt. It’s impossible to keep his mind when you were gushing out so much slick that it coats his shaft and leaves his ballsack all drenched.
And if he was this gone, then where did that leave you?
Well, you were just babbling away the pretty syllables of his lessons. “The f-fourth lesson is that fingers feel better.” Hips bucking upwards. “The fifth is that real men are hungry—” Eyes scrunching with tears. That large circumference of his were pushing into tender spots n’ crevices that you didn’t even know you had - it felt as though your poor pussy was being split by him. Push after push.
After probe after probe.
Just animalistically trying to fit inside—
“The sixth- the sixth-”
“Breathe, honey.” Those smoky words of his scorch your face, as if Nanami himself was burning from the inside out. And there truly was a feverish tint to his words—to his actions, fuckin’ away sloppily between your pussylips. Slurp after slurp. “Breeeeeeathe- c’mon do it with me.”
Conducting you through these relaxation exercises for a few strokes.
Listening to his own advice - that fourth lesson - his right hand lifts off of your thighs to roll over your throbbing clit. Just so neglected by now, it makes you see white to have him massaging that sweet spot all slow and sensual.
“The sixth lesson is…who cares about breathing?”
“Mhmmm.”
A guttural tone that sent vibrations straight from your drippin’ core and up to your brain. Only growing more muddled by the inch- “And oh! The extra.” As all good students do, you’re deciding to show a demonstration. How sinful that this sort of demonstration is you balancing your hips on the table n’ choosing to bounce right up to meet Nanami’s rutting hits. His pounces. “To- ngh, fuck back into you.”
“Oh, good girl- this old man almost forgot that one.” Sleazily, he’s pushing his glasses up his nosebridge.
Staring at the lewd sight below of you griiiiinding your hips up into his. It was just so messy because your lips were jittery with pleasure.
His happy trail rubs carnally on top of your clit- and it sends you into a frenzy—
“F-fuck that was-”
“Shhhh shh shh, easy.”
You waddle your ankles from their perch atop his shoulders. “Yes, I know-” Hissing out—“I’m breathing, Kento. I’m listening to what you’re saying, promise…”
“Good girl. Now inhale.” Of course, you can’t help but take a looooong gasp of the heady air thick in the dining room - the candles were scented like roses. “And-”
“And…?”
And Nanami doesn’t finish his sentence. He doesn’t bother telling you to exhale before his fat, throbbing cock is fucking every volume of air from your lungs. In this mating press, he could hit each angle even deeper than before - and that meant you’re feeling his thick circumference bruise all the way against your womb.
Your cervix.
Bottomed all the way out and Nanami was pummeling his length away as if there was even more, more, more of him left. A hint of something metallic hits his nostrils—and he can’t hold back the victorious chuckle that leaves him. He’s done it. “Continue.”
“I—what-” Struggling to catch your breath. “Oh my fucking-”
“Continue.”
“Who cares about breathing-”
A sixth lesson that he was fully demonstrating.
He really was mean.
He really was merciless.
Because he was fucking you into the dinner table like a damn animal—and the thing is Nanami wasn’t even going at a particularly fast pace in order to leave you speechless. He wasn’t merely half-thrusting away and hoping that you liked it. He wasn’t just tracin’ his cockhead down the sweet spots at the back of your pussy.
Nanami Kento was holding you down tight in his mating press. He has one hand gripping onto the back of your scalp - such a gentle gesture turned so sinful - and another crushin’ the fatness of his palm to your pussy.
Purposefully, the older man pushes the edge of his palm down on your clit. Harder. Harder. Harder.
And he was drilling into you harder by the second, too. Harder didn’t mean faster.
Just draaaagging every inch of his vein-covered shaft down your slick channel - he’s making sure that you can feel every single curve n’ ridge down his cock. He’s making sure that he massages your insides so thoroughly that it feels as though you’re being molded to his cock. Nothing more. Nothing less.
You swear you’re seeing the pearly gates spread wide open before your very eyes. “O-oh my god-” Reaching your hands up, Nanami lowers his strong body further into yours. Pushing you down against the dinner table, the pressure from all sides is too much that you have to claaaw down his perfect back. “Kento, what—fuck. I didn’t know that it could feel like this-”
And deep inside, you can feel his thickened tip flinching. Directly at your g-spot. “Mhm?”
“Yeah-” Voice shattering in your throat as his circumference swells just a few millimeters thicker inside of you. He was growing even bigger, harder, just by the sensations of your slurping cunt. “I-it just feels so good- I’ve never been fucked like this.”
“Honey…” Nanami’s mean yet pointed tone makes you stare up at him. “You’ve never been fucked before me.‘
“Oh.”
“Your virginity is mine.”
“Oh.”
Just that gone on his cock that you’d almost forgotten - even the realization itself seems to take up too much storage inside your already-muddled brain. Now filled with only the thought of him n’ his achingly hot cock—pouring out bucketloads of precum until it sloshed around inside.
Inside and inside.
Stirring ‘round and ‘round with his probin’ cockhead. He pushes deep into spots that you hadn’t even known existed, let alone could be smooched away by his pulsating shaft. He constantly whacks your g-spot until it feels numb.
Enough to render you speechless-
“—graduated.”
And that makes your eyes blink open. “Wh-what?”
“Oh, honey…” Nanami plants a loving peck on your lips- until that peck turns into a rugged bite. “What world are you on, hm? S’my cock that good? Awww, my poor girl—here.” Nanami’s perspired forehead sticks against yours. This time, he’s staring deeply into your eyes as he pronounces the words, “You’ve graduated.”
You cock your head in confusion, “From university?”
He chuckles, fine lines popping out from the edges of his eyes. You’re noticing that his glasses have slightly fogged up by now- “No, silly girl. From my lessons.”
“Oh…” Pouting, “But I liked your lessons, Kento.”
“Mmmm, you’ll like this one even more.” Dipping down- Nanami presses his stern lips right to the shell of your left ear. Whispering as if a secret shared by no one but the two of you in this world, “Remember how Yuji mentioned he wanted a little brother…”
A jolt goes through your body- as does the realization.
“If you’d like then-”
“Yes.” You know it might be rash. But looking at him like this - looking at Nanami Kento so deep in the pangs and plunges of his carnal pleasure - how could you deny what you want? “Yes—”
The blond man’s breaths start to grow heavier, eyes slightly widened. For the first time in the longest time, he actually looks like his usually-sensible self. Those molten eyes of his search yours for an answer- “Honey, really think this throu-”
“I did.” You’re insisting. And if that wasn’t enough, he could feel your wobbly ankles surge with the strength to lock ‘round his neck. “Inside, Kento.”
Nanami’s mouth moves noiselessly with an answer, but his cock does all the swelling. So painfully hard that you were sure it was tougher than rocks-
And there’s only one thing left for you to do. “Inside…sir.”
If he was any less of a gentleman - of a man, really - then Nanami would’ve cum inside you then and there. At least in his mind—which was focused solely on digging his heels into the carpet, solely on gritting his teeth and holding his damn cock back from pouring out those wads of cum like he knew he wanted to.
Was on the verge of doing.
He was instead collapsing the entirety of his weight upon your body- feeling your limbs strain, hearing your joints pop. But not even that noise crackling in his eardrums is enough to get the man to slow down.
Now he was just fucking you sloppy—grunts filtering between his grit canines by the minute. By the thrust. “The first to fuck you.” And what a rare occasion: to hear the ever-eloquent Nanami Kento stutter. “I’ll be the first to breed you too, my dear.”
“Oh—fuck, yes.” Your entire body shivers in excitement. You could feel the pit of pleasure starting to grow in your stomach.
“I’ll be the first to give this pretty cunt a taste of cum.” And you could hardly believe that such a sinful sentence was leaving the confines of his mouth—“She’s probably so thirsty by now, no? I’ll be the first to quench that thirst, my dear, just you wait-” Pinching your clit between the fingers on his right hand once more. “-mama.”
Really, if you were calling him ‘sir’ then it was only fair for him to call you by that pretty nickname. Something primal awakens inside of you-
“I’ll be the first one to stuff this pretty pussy-” Nanami gurgles out, eyes locking in on your stomach. That was where his rounded tip occasionally made an appearance by bulging through your flesh n’ skin as he fucked inside you. “-with so much of my cum that you’ll be bloated.”
You gasp hysterically, “Yes-” So turned on that it almost hurt - you wanted him. Now. “Yes, yes, yes—”
“I’ll be the first to make you feel me in here- for weeks. Months.” Thrust after thrust. Pinch after pinch. It was incredible how much he was stimulating you to tears- “I’ll be the first where—when you walk down the street, everyone will know that I fucked you. Everyone will know that- that this pretty pussy is mine, that I’m the one fuckin’ her and stuffing her and—and giving her my cum every night.”
Rolling a sweet, sweet heart on top of your clit.
“They’ll know that I’m the one fuckin’ the cute, sweet lil’ nanny—all of them. The professors. Those parents at pick-up. Your friends. My friends.” He chuckles darkly. And he doesn’t care who’d be scandalized. “Wanna know why, my honey?”
“Wh-why—” You sob out.
And he leans in to whisper in your ear- “Because I’ll be the one making you a momma.”
Until you’re all round and glowing with his seed.
Until you’re so full of him that you can’t take anymore.
Until you’re so stuffed that you wouldn’t be able to hide it- he hopes you’re walking ‘round with his cum between your legs for weeks.
It’s taking only that and a single puuuush against your g-spot for you to topple off the edge of your high. Bliss pumping through your veins in waves, you couldn’t escape from the constant throb and ebb of it. Dimming the edges of your vision. Making the lights seem brighter.
Again and again and again—
He’s probin’ inside that swollen cockhead to push you through the bouts of your pleasure. In the time he’s had you like this, Nanami’s already mapped out where every single one of your sweetest spots where- and first he’ll thwack! his hand upon your clit. Then he’ll move onto your tender bruised spots at the rim, then his cock delves deeper until he’s hitting your g-spot—then again and again he’s knockin’ on your womb.
Filling it with so much of his cum.
“Breathe.” Your orgasm hits you so hard that you have to manually control your breathing- and Nanami’s right beside you. Walking you through every step, every exhale and inhale. “Breathe iiiiiin.”
You’re sucking in a breath. “Fuck-”
And it’s just then that he’s emptying out a particularly powerful wave of his own euphoria. Balls clenching as his ribbony white cum leaks near your cervix- with your breath sucked in, you’re only feeling the sensations even stronger. “And out.”
Panting out with a whine. “Fuuuuck- f-feels so good.”
Too good, almost.
You never knew it could feel like this to have someone pourin’ out all their lecherous sap inside of you- the thick layers clinging onto either side of your walls. There’s so much of it - so much volume that you wondered just how he managed to keep it all stuffed inside - frothing out and forming a circle of white ‘round Nanami’s hilt. Gleaming with every thrust. Puddling out and sticking your thighs together—
Head throwing slightly back, though still peeking at you through his lashes. “Honey…”
Nanami’s gruff tone makes you jump. “Yes?” Still slightly twitching from the aftershocks of your incredible high.
He stares into your eyes with a slight smile. Something unreadable. “You forgot the seventh lesson earlier.”
The seventh…?
Oh.
Oh.
Fuck.
It’s with a sudden cold thrill that you’re registering what he said- and remembering the mistake you’d made during your recitations earlier. “I-it was to cum all over-”
“That’s quite alright, my dear. No need to tell me now.” Nanami smiles the sweetest smile that makes your cunt start to throb - his eyes shuttered closed, his lips pecking yours. His cock shovels a long, hard thrust inside you—“But I will have to rescind your graduation.”
You gape, “What, why-”
“Until you’re completely and fully stuffed by me.” He grumbles out the rest of his statement. His condition.
Hands rovering all over your body, Nanami makes sure that every slight tingle of your high has passed before he’s pulling out of you with a loud sluuuuurp! Immediately scooping you up into a princess carry n’ walking in the direction of his bedroom.
It isn’t long before you find yourself draped over Nanami Kento’s large mattress - on all fours so that he can slip inside you with ease. Pumping away immediately- “Until you’re fuckin’ pregnant, consider that you’re still taking lessons.”
You’re sobbing into your newly-caught pillow. “Oh—oh fuck.”
To which Nanami leans over and snatches your neck into a fucking headlock- his strong biceps pushing against the sides of your throat. “Happy Valentine’s Day, my dear. When this is all done- fuck, m’gonna show you how much I love you.”
“I l-love you—” Feeling his rounded tip immediately pierce across your g-spot and towards your womb. Full. “-too.”
“Mmm, I love you more.” Watching as you shake and quiver. “We’ll get you something sweet after this, honey, don’t you worry.” He hums- before sneaking a look at the both of you through the mirror in his bedroom and chuckling.
Ruined. Completely and utterly ruined.
“If we make it out of Valentine’s Day alive, that is.”
Maybe Shoko could babysit Yuji a little longer?
“Papa’s gonna do his best to try for a second child, alright?”
.
.
.
Morning shed its sunlight like the clothes upon Nanami’s apartment floor.
A stream of white-gold Sun, the richness of the day, enters through his windows and splays out perfectly on the bed. It dapples light across his naked chest and leaves him stirring—
Valentine’s Day.
The dinner.
The table.
You. Being taken on the table.
Afterwards on this very bed, afterwards on the damn bedroom floor after he heard a snap coming from somewhere on the bed frame. He’d shovelled himself n’ his gooey white sap inside you until the Sun had risen—
And it’s enough to make him jerk upright in his bed.
Blankets falling around his waist, sleepy eyes scanning the room for any sign of you.
From here, he couldn’t see what’d been made of your clothes in the dining room- or your panties in his bedroom. But it was obvious that you weren’t here. If from your physical presence, then from the warmth you brought into his drafty Tokyo home.
Just to make sure, he casts several wide-eyed looks around the room - breath-still in case there was a single noise from the kitchen - and still…nothing. Absolutely nothing.
There’s a sinking feeling in his chest that he doesn’t want to make sense of.
Of course, what was he thinking? He’d said…those words to you last night- but just because you’d said them back didn’t mean it was real. It was probably in the heat of the moment, you’d probably snuck out before dawn broke so you didn’t have to face him. You’d probably woken up disgusted.
He didn’t blame you - there were no promises between the two of you. And even if there had been, he knows he can’t find it in himself to get angry at you.
If anything - if you chose to quit after this - he supposes he’ll have to start looking for a nanny again. Something in Nanami’s chest twists, and he reaches up to rub the spot where his heart was.
He wouldn’t mind the long and tedious process if it still led him back to you. He wouldn’t mind the long and tedious process if it meant you were there with him - not as a nanny, just yourself being you.
It was a cold morning.
And Nanami Kento was clenching his sheets, just about to throw his legs over the side of the bed and get out—he needed to put away his clothes anyways before Shoko came with Yuji. What was the time anyway? It was his off-day today, and maybe he could take Yuji out to the park to take his mind off of-
And it’s then that several things happen at once.
Nanami’s eyes catch the face of the clock on his bedside cabinet: 12:48PM.
Nanami’s jaw drops at just how late it is.
Nanami snatches his phone off of the cabinet and makes to race outside while calling Shoko-
And he makes it about two frantic steps, too, before getting stopped by a sudden squeal of laughter. Loud and bubbling. Euphoric.
Of course, it was none other than his son.
Echoing a short burst of laughter throughout the apartment- before abruptly cutting himself off with a pronounced ‘shhhhhh!’ It rings even louder than his laugh, and reaches Nanami’s ears alongside some words. “Sowwy! Yuji promises not to wake papa!”
And Nanami’s brows furrow, wondering whether Shoko had somehow managed to forge a key to his apartment and get in. Before out of nowhere—your voice is the one that answers him.
“S’alright, sunshine.” You’re using that nickname he always did. Sleepiness was still laced into your tone, and he could tell it hadn’t been long since you must’ve waddled away.
Since you must’ve put away the clothes in the dining room, since you must’ve opened the door for Yuji - Nanami would hate to imagine the smug look on Shoko’s face then, but the surplus of texts from her were already doing the job. “Papa needs to be awake for breakfast-in-bed, doesn’t he?”
The smell of pancakes drifts through the bedroom door - along with Yuji’s answering call. “True…but what if papa won’t wake up?”
“Then we eat the pancakes.”
“Yes—” Yuji echoes, “Thank you, Cupid.”
“Hm?”
“Because Cupid made you n’ papa married, right?” But of course. It leaves you stunned for a few seconds, and Yuji obliviously chattering. “I’ve always wanted to keep you- papa, too. Even though I know he won’t say—can we keep you now, Ms. Nanny?”
Your voice sounds slightly thicker than before. “You can keep me as long as you want, Yuji.”
“Thank you, Cupid!”
Two evil cackles, and the sound of footsteps.
You’re opening the door with a flood of sunlight and a tray of pancakes in your hand. Yuji rushes in after you with a call of ‘good morning’ - and by the smile on your face…yeah.
Yeah, it really is a good morning.
He still doesn’t know how to explain to Yuji that the two of you aren’t married yet, however.
It’s in an hour that you finally break the news- but rush to assure the little boy before he bursts into tears, that he could ‘keep you’ as long as he wanted. And that the two of you were together—yes, together together. Nanami puts off answering Shoko (she ambushes him for gossip the very next day).
It’s in a month that you start officially calling yourselves lovers - boyfriend and girlfriend, whatever it is. It seems like so much more than that, however. And so Nanami just settles for introducing you as his partner at those tedious work dinners.
It’s in a few more months that those work dinners become the last he’s attending. Because Nanami Kento quits that damn job, using everything he’s saved up to buy a little bakery and a house just a small ways off from the heart of the city - not quite the countryside as he once imagined, but this was good, too. It was still a manageable distance from your university and Yuji’s school, and yet so much bigger than the apartment.
It’s in a year that Nanami’s bakery is at the height of business - a figure that will only keep growing as the years pass by. Word spreads far and wide about those treats- and soon enough, he’s forced to fire extra hands and more part-timers than he ever thought would be needed. The little bakery grows into a big bakery, with time.
You couldn’t have been more happy to see those dark circles underneath his eyes cease for once, to see him pursue his dreams. Yuji couldn’t have been more happy to get all the sweet treats he could’ve ever wished for.
And now, Nanami could buy him all the car beds he could’ve ever wished for.
He also starts looking into wedding rings.
He still isn’t sure about a Spiderman-themed wedding, but he knows he’ll be baking the cake.
A/N. Hehehe that Nanami and the flowers scene was inspired by my father having a tradition to always buy me a bouquet as well today.
mdni- Law professor! Higuruma x law student! reader
Your law professor Hiromi Higuruma is exhausted, he'd asked you to come for a meeting to discuss your upcoming internship with him - you were a top law student, after all, but he had no damn sleep and his coffee is too weak. He's eased back with his dark eyes shut, hands over his face, trying to wake himself up enough to see you.
It's hard to see you too, hard to even look at you, how fucking pretty you are makes his job difficult to say the least. You're a good twelve years younger, not that its' that much of an issue, the problem is you're his student.
He certainly can't cross that line, and he certainly can't jerk off every time he sees your thighs in your little pencil skirts, all professional and smiling as you bring him breakfast, lunch, fuck you're always bending over to give him something - and making him feel like a fucking depraved pervert. He tries not to think of you when he jerks his cock at night, but you flit through his mind.
How he'd fuck you right here on this desk, pump all his cum inside your pretty cunt. How he'd eat your surely cute little cunt, have your squirt all down his dress shirt, his tie, every inch covered in you. Fuck he'd bathe in it if he could.
Even now just thinking of seeing you has his cock throbbing, he's so tired he can't stop it like he usually can, jumping up when you walk in, clearing his throat and quickly sitting up, praying you don't get close enough to see the tent in his slacks. You smile all pretty, today your blouse is unbuttoned too much, hints of your tits peeking out as if to taunt him.
"Mr. Hiromi," you say softly, shutting the door behind you and holding two cups precariously. "I got your favorite espresso."
"Oh fuck I love you," you giggle when he panics, tired eyes lidded as they gaze down at your lips.
How would they wrap his cock?
"I mean..." He starts stammering just a bit, but you smile.
"I will take that," you tease, handing it to him, your fingertips brushing together when he takes it. You feel that heat shoot down into your tummy, a gnawing ache that's just constantly there for your professor -months of having to watch him lecture, watch him in court, your vibrator hates to see you coming after days you join him and watch him argue.
When he gets angry? Fuck.
He seems so calm but it's just brimming underneath the surface, he takes a sip and moans. "God that's good, so much better than the shitty coffee here."
"I figured so," you sip your own drink - much more foamy and sweet, handing him the documents he asked for. "Here you go."
"They can wait," he tosses them to the side now, sighing and leaning back in his chair. "It's the weekend, don't you have some party to go to or something? A date?"
"Nah I was just gonna watch Bridgerton and cuddle on the couch," you sit on his desk, crossing your legs, his gaze darts to them, fingers damn near twitching with how badly he wants to grip them.
"You're twenty three, shouldn't you be having fun?"
"As if you're so old," you tease, uncrossing them and swinging your ankles around just a bit. "But no, not my thing."
"I see," he tilts his head and leans close. "What season are you on?"
"You do not watch it!"
"Who says I don't," you're giggling all cute, ruining his muddled mind even further. "Okay I don't but I have heard of it."
"It's really good! You probably just rewatch Lincoln Lawyer on repeat."
"Tch," you're giggling again and drinking your cup. "You're right."
"Called it!" You hop down and nearly trip, he catches you buy your hips quickly, the coffee precariously falling but you some how catch it with both hands. "Oh I'm so sorry."
He says nothing, not when your tits are right in his face, and he can feel the curve of your waist, he hardly holds back a gutteral moan, not letting go. You set the coffee down with a shaky hand, heart hammering in your chest, stepping between his spread thighs now.
"Are you all right, Sir?"
"Don't fuckin' call me that," he rests his head on your waist now, exhaling and tugging you closer, nuzzling the little buttons of your bodice when your hand brushes back his messy dark locks. "You really should go."
"Oh? Why's that?" he chuckles just a bit, looking up at you underneath those lidded eyes, black from his pupils being blown out.
"If you stay I'll put a fucking baby inside you, how do you think your law career will be then?" You suck in a breath, thighs pressing together, filthy images fill his mind - pumping so many loads of cum in your cunt you can't walk without them dripping down your legs. "Go."
Your answer is to sink to your knees, he barely holds himself back when your fingers undo his zipper. "I don't want a baby yet but you can certainly say you wanna, you can cum inside me."
"God," he's hissing when you pull out his cock, the tip already leaking all that white he wants inside you. He holds your hair in a ponytail when you're flicking your tongue on his tip. "I won't give you special treatment in class, but I will fill you with all the cum you want."
"Mmm," you take him in your mouth now, sucking and watching him with your pretty eyes, he tugs your hair into a better ponytail, watching as you glide your throat down him. You're touching your clit over your panties as he starts to get mean with it, desperately rutting his hips up, hardly able to keep quiet.
"F-fuck, your slutty throat is that good? Sweetheart," he's mumbling now, your drool is spilling down his balls, tight and heavy, your nose brushing that dark pubic hair as you gag and choke on it. "Touching yourself? No."
He yanks your fingers off, you pull back with a wet pop, lips dripping with saliva and pre. "I need to cum, please Sir."
"You're asking for it," he grumbles - every time you call him that more pre spurts from his red, swollen tip, sucking you off your fingers, you gasp at the action, just to get tugged up by your hair to stand. "Turn around and lift your skirt f'me, hmm?"
This isn't meticulous, exhausted law professor Hiromi, this is dominant, commanding Hiromi with his big cock leaking, you eagerly obey and he sighs, sinking to his knees as you tug that skirt over the curve of your ass. He buries his face against your cunt, panties on and all, soaking wet already.
"You're already this wet? From sucking me?" Your answer is a muffled whine, trying not to let the entire college know that Hiromi is about to bury that long nose inside your cunt. "Prop that leg up - atta girl, there you go. Good job."
"F-fuck," you're clinging to his desk when he tugs your panties to the side, tongue lapping a fat stripe from your clit to your ass, slipping down to fuck into your quivering hole.
God you taste good - he can't get enough of it, the slick coating his tongue and lips, dripping down his chin. He parts your swollen folds to look at it winking right at him, cunt just gushing arousal in clear little drips that leak down your thighs. He licks it up greedy as it spills, and you're arching, begging for him.
"Please, inside," you're barely able to form a word when he nudges your twitchy clit with his nose, his papers just fucking scattering as you start clinging to the desk. "Mnh, please!"
"Shh, I'll give it to you," he leans up, turning your face to his - he's a gentleman and he hasn't kissed you yet, that just won't do. "Open."
You eagerly do what he asks, cock slapping against your ass with a loud thwack, your tongue out, he spits your juices right on it, closing your mouth and urging you to swallow, tip nudging that messy cunt, pressing in, she's so wet she's soaking his cock, dripping down onto the polished hardwood underneath.
He sinks his cock deep inside your walls, your head falls back, ragged little breaths escaping as your tongues swirl all messy, one of his hands tugging your thigh up even higher, bottoming out in one stroke. You can hardly take just how girthy his cock is, the tip kissing your cute cervix as he lets you adjust for just a moment.
"Feel better than I even imagined," you blush now - how cute you blush with cock inside you, walls quivering around him, his spit down your throat, when the door knocks and you tense up Hiromi just slams inside you harder.
"Ah!"
"Shh darling," he covers your mouth with his hand, fucking inside of you deeper, the wet squelch just echoing in his office. "Yes?"
"I need to talk about class tomorrow," it's professor Nanami, as soon as he talks your cunt pulses, Hiromi gets unreasonably jealous, his other hand toying with your twitchy clit.
"You're getting that wet from him?" You shake your head, but Nanami talks again and you're soaking his cock as it shoves fully in, balls smacking as he moves, the wet sounds obscene. "I don't share."
"Hiromi?" Nanami asks, his lips are on your ear as he lets your mouth go and you bite on your lip.
"Want him to know you're getting bred by your professor, pretty girl?" You do in fact, filthy thoughts are racing of fucking both your professors, though Hiromi is pounding your cunt so good you don't think you could handle more, his finger roughly pressing patterns on your clit faster. "Go ahead, cum."
"C-can't, psycho," you glare and Hiromi just smirks all tired, wrapping an arm around you to drag your messy hole right down him. "Mnh!"
"Is everything all right in there?"
"It's fine Nanamin, I'm just... wanting a nap, you know? Can I come see you in a f-fuck..." You're clenching too tight, he almost can't take it, cunt milking him for all he's worth. "In a few?"
"Always fucking napping and shit," Nanami sighs and stomps off, just in time for Higuruma's curved cock head to nudge your spot, you spasm and gasp out, barely able to cover your mouth in time, cunt squirting all down your thighs as your orgasm hits.
"Oh fuck, and you're a messy little law student, huh?" He's fucking you harder, pressing your back down so you arch even more, his fingers slipping inside your mouth. "Squirting just for me?"
"Mhm," you're nodding, letting him pin you down, your face next to those law books as he fucks you through it and into another orgasm, Hiromi's pinning your wrists down behind your back, moving harder, until you can't see.
No amount of masturbation prepared him for your needy, messy hole, nor how pliant and eager you are, letting him use your body however he wants. He hovers over you, lips brushing your temple tenderly as he moves his hips so goddamn mean. "I'll w-watch Bridgerton with you if you let me fill your cunt up."
You barely manage a laugh, turning your head as he lifts it by your hair and kisses you. "All seasons?"
"God anything, j-just wanna fill her up so full," you nod and Hiromi busts as if on cue, his messy white ropes all puffy and sticky in your slick walls, he's moaning desperately not even trying to be quiet. "Fuckin' taking all of it, want your cunt bred by me, hmm?"
You didn't think Hiromi would be filthy.
You didn't think he'd spit in your mouth, tell you he was gonna breed you or finger his cum back inside you. And you absolutely didn't think he'd actually come watch Bridgerton with you in your little off campus apartment, but he does. Though you're cockwarming him and he's torturing you, not letting you move.
Maybe Hiromi Higuruma is just a little sadistic.
****
that episode has me unwell
tagging my bbs @cupidstrace @kamiflix @uhnosav hehe
