neglected to regressor batsis! reader x platonic batfam
what if after 20 years of neglect from your family full of vigilantes, you face an unfortunate death, only to find yourself regressed back to when you were 16?
⤷ lots of emotional neglect, reader was batgirl, reader was a tryhard and an overachiever, reader had no social life in her first life, mentions of drugs, mentions of human trafficking, mentions of death, regression themes, toxic and unhealthy relationships, dysfunctional family, toxic mentalities, reader and everyone else needs therapy…, canon divergence, major character death(s) | tba | based on this
⤷ info! (background) 1 | 2 | read this first to understand the plot and each batfam better :)
So, a few days ago I found this post on Reddit from 2 years ago (that sadly barely got any attention at the time) that sheds a ton of light on the separation scene between Gon and Killua, and my mind is blown! I've known for years that there was some sort of Togashi "coding" in the dialogue and it was always like I could get halfway to understanding, but this post gives the rest of the puzzle pieces that I was missing, and ties into other scenes that I was uncertain about the meaning of as well. It's heartbreaking, but also hopeful for their future! I had to share it with you all. Please read it!
The original Reddit post has been deleted, but here is a link to the author's Reddit profile. (I received permission from the original author to post this here.)
In-Depth analysis on the Hidden Reasons behind Gon & Killua's separation scene (ep 147) Why Gon is 'Number 2'
The translations across the separation scene in both manga (chp 338) and the anime (ep 147, 2011) have some shortfalls. These dialogues are vital for understanding even the first layer of reasons behind this separation.
REASONS FOR KILLUA'S DELICATELY PLANNED SEPARATION
1. WHEN -
There are very important reasons why Killua picked a specific timing to tell Gon about Alluka. It was Killua's plan all along, to only tell Gon at a moment's notice, to make sure Gon won’t get time to ask any DETAILS. He is deliberately downplaying the seriousness of everything he’s been through to heal Gon, so it will have less impact on Gon, and at the same time, avoid Gon asking details. Prior to healing Gon, Killua specifically asked Morel and Leorio to promise not to tell Gon that he saved him. After Gon was healed, there was a scene in the anime (ep 148) which showed the three spent a night together before reaching the World Tree. During that time, Killua still haven't said anything. It wasn't until the moment when they were literally saying the last goodbye, Killua casually brought up:
“Oh, by the way, this guy healed you."
I want to emphasis the word Killua used to address Alluka was “こいつ”. This is a very light and overly casual word used to address someone you know, and usually a playful guy friend (e.g. “This guy used to be my neighbour.” type of feeling). The manga and anime translation, “She’s the one that healed you,” did not clearly depict the intentional casualness.
2. WHAT was SAID -
If Killua just doesn’t want to burden Gon with guilt and responsibility, then why not just keep his mouth shut and say nothing? That’s because Killua found a better option than not telling Gon anything. Killua shifted the “priority of reasons” a bit, so the VERSION OF EVENTS he told Gon, was PRIORITIZED on Alluka’s rescue rather than healing Gon. This way, they will also get to THANK Gon, and put an emphasis on thanking Gon because Killua make it SEEMED like it was more important to rescue Alluka, that the INITIAL REASON for Killua to go home, was to rescue Alluka. Only AFTER Alluka was freed, they came to the hospital to heal Gon, out of convenience, since only Alluka has the ability to do so, and since she’s now outside. The MAIN motive for these past events has been delicately swapped around by Killua, so the focus switched to the rescue of Alluka, rather than healing Gon. Hence Alluka is “No. 1”, Gon is “No. 2”. Downplaying it so healing Gon was just a bonus convenience (ep 147, 19:12 to 19:51).
Killua then goes on another level to make this version of events seem even more realistic, by saying “….You owe me a lot now,” in a teasing and playful tone of voice. This is to again, downplay the seriousness of everything he’s been through, to comfort Gon that "Yes you owe me one now, but don’t you worry! I will make sure you pay it back okay?! Hehe!”
3. WHY -
The fight with Pitou allowed Killua to witness Gon's ultimately immature mind set when it comes to “repaying someone, and redeeming himself.” Kite lost an arm and his life to protect him. So Gon gave his life and was even more happy when Pitou took his arm too. Gon will always want to “match” what was sacrificed by another, by throwing away AT LEAST the same. Not “sacrificing”, but THROWING AWAY. It’s so immature, so dangerous, no one will be able to keep up with him. Killua was very confident with how much he could take, but even Killua himself is at limit. This ultimate baka!! (ep 136, 17:50 - 20:17)
If this is how far Gon will go for Kite, he can only imagine what Gon would go recklessly into if he knew the DETAILS. This is when Killua decided on a way to part with Gon the way they did, and to PROVIDE him a particular REASON.
“I’m prepared to spent the rest of my life protecting her.”
This is the reason Killua wants Gon to know, but NOT what he actually wants to do with his life. Although it’s true he feels responsible and genuinely wish to protect Alluka and Nanika, but it’s not what he ultimately WANTS to do. He NEEDS to protect Alluka, but he WANTS to spent his entire life by the side of a certain baka…
After the previous events, Killua was traumatized, especially when he saw Gon's twisted decaying arm. That was a breaking point for him, after that, the only thing that matters THE MOST for him is for Gon to be safe. He also realized that in order to protect this baka... it’s better if he keeps a distance for now, until he finds a solution to keep Alluka safe from Illumi and his family.
4. THE PARTING -
By planning this parting with Gon, Killua hopes Gon will become detached from him. And that time and distance will slowly render him less important to Gon. So if he was to die... (because Illumi is hunting them down) he did for Alluka, he did it for the vow to protect Alluka, not Gon. We knew Killua always plans ahead, and here, he plants this reason for Gon in the future so he won’t need to feel responsible if he was to die protecting Alluka (or die with Alluka while Illumi is hunting them). This is what’s going through Killua’s head:
“If I die, you’re not responsible for anything. You don’t owe me anything, so NEVER throw your life away again. My only one wish, is for you to be safe. So here I am. I’m parting ways with you... Because I SAID you are only ... No. 2 ... I SAID you are not the most important to me.. So don’t think of me as the most important to you too….”
This, is Killua’s eternal Devotion.
5. THE RESULT -
As a result of this deliberate planning by Killua,
Gon was made to believe:
While I was recovering in hospital Killua had to go home and rescue his sister
Alluka is such a cute sister and she can grant Killua any wish?!!! Wow…that’s one cool sister…
Well… no wonder Killua thinks his cool sister is more important than me, it’s only natural.
Looks like Killua finally found what he wants to do. He will enjoy traveling the world with such a cool sister, it will be so much fun. I should be happy for him, I can’t hold him here... I have to let him go…
VS
The DETAILS omitted:
Gon was not recovering at all in the hospital. Killua RESORTED to USE Alluka in order to heal Gon.
Alluka’s blood stained dark past and the risks and uncertainty that still involves.
Baka Gon is always No. 1 !
Killua and Alluka are desperately trying to find a way to out of Illumi’s grasp. Illumi is hunting them down and trying to make Killua his puppet again. And this time it's not going to be just a needle in the head... Killua can feel it. And if things doesn’t work out, he will just kill Alluka.
These Reasons are the core of the separation. We have a song named “Reason”… aren’t the lyrics shedding a new layer of light now?
6. IMPORTANT WORDS ALLUKA USED TO FACILITATE A BETTER RELATIONSHIP AFTER REUNION -
Killua promised to “always be together” with Alluka.
But to this promise, Alluka’s response was always silent (episode 145, 3:32 to 4:19). She looked at Killua with deep thought. Because even in such a short amount of time, she realized Killua is doing all this to ALSO or MORE SO protect Gon. It was never just for her, it will never be just for her, and there will never be anyone more important than Gon for Killua. She’s moved by Killua’s devotion and resolve, and she can also feel his sadness…
If, the situation was different, if Gon was never there to begin with, and Killua just happened to solely come to Alluka’s rescue, and then make a promise to stay together with her forever, Alluka’s natural reaction will be melting with happiness, she’d be crying tears of joy, and hugging Killua. But in this instance, she was composed, she sensed her brother’s deep seriousness and sadness. That’s why later on, she reassured the two at parting, that they will see each other again, without disclosing Killua’s true REASONS.
The Exacted words Alluka used (Manga chpt 338, 2011 anime epi 147)
a. Manga translation: “I’m going to HUG my brother for a while and then I will LET HIM GO.”
b. Better translation: “I’m going to have my brother all to myself for a while and then I will let him free.”
c. The exacted phrase: “I’m going to Monopolise my brother Exclusively for a period of time, then I will Release him.”
独り占 (Monopolise Exclusively)
Very strong characters with Explicit meaning. Have it all to oneself. Same characters and meaning used in Chinese as well. （独占）
解放 (Release)
This is much more formal and serious than “let go”. It implies the subject was initially bound/locked/restricted. Also the same characters and meaning used in Chinese.
Alluka employed these words to imply a forceful lead in this “deal” of owning Killua exclusively. These words have an underlying tone of enslavement.
Why? Because Alluka knows, the harder she IMPOSES herself on Killua during their time together, the more effective it would be on the easing of Killua’s own guilt.
Killua felt immensely guilty.
No one will enjoy a relationship bound by guilt.
Alluka knows clearly that part of her brother’s promise, was formed with guilt, from using her and Nanika, that he was having fun with Gon while Alluka was literally forgotten. Although it's true that this was largely due to Illumi's manipulation, but the fact that he did just left her in the basement all this time was both unacceptable and unforgivable to Killua himself (episode 138, 13:28).
Therefore apart from protecting Gon, this was the other important reason for this separation. Almost as if Killua has accepted this as a befitting price to pay in order to redeem himself as a brother.
Alluka and Nanika have no condition nor demand in return for Killua’s requests. But Killua imposed a price on himself for having Gon healed. Out of guilt. Alluka knows, Nanika knows. That’s why Alluka used the word 解放 (release), because it will make Killua feel better, that he has complied with her ‘enslavement’, so when the time comes, Killua will be able to release HIMSELF from guilt, and go back to Gon, properly. Alluka loves her brother, and she’s prepared to help him towards a better relationship with Gon in the future, by helping him to eliminating this chain of guilt.
Jason sprawls against the bed, shirtless, hair tousled from where your fingers tore through it earlier. His broad chest rises and falls with steady breaths, but his eyes—dark, heavy-lidded, locked on you—burn. He looks wrecked and so fucking gone for you, jaw tight, lips parted just enough to show how much you've undone him.
Your legs tremble as you straddle his hips, back to him, thighs spread wide over his. His dick is buried deep inside you—thick, hot, stretching you open—and even after all this time, it still steals the air from your lungs.
"Fuuuuck," you moan, head tipping back. "So big, Jay."
Jason groans, fingers digging into your hips hard enough to bruise. His cock throbs inside your dripping cunt, and fuck, he loves this—loves watching you ride him like you own him, your pretty pussy clenching around him so tight it has him seeing stars. Creaming all over his dick like that, goddamn.
His voice is rough, strained. "Baby, you're—"
But you're already moving again—rolling your hips slow, savoring the burn, the stretch, the way he fills every inch of you. His cock drags against your walls, stroking all those sweet, sensitive spots inside, making you gasp.
"Shit," Jason breathes, his fingers flexing on your waist.
His thighs tense beneath your hands—strong, solid—and he fights not to thrust up and ruin you too fast, too soon. God, the view is fucking criminal: your ass bouncing, that needy little cunt swallowing him whole. You're so wet, slick noises filling the room each time you grind down, and he can feel it—feel how messy you are, how you're dripping down his length, even without looking.
"Fuck, fuck—" His breath catches as you rock harder, faster, back arching. "Jesus, baby, you're so drunk."
"Mm-hmm," you hum, drunk and needy, grinding down just right.
Jason's head drops back, jaw clenching as your movements speed up—each bounce making your ass jiggle, driving him insane. His hips jerk up to meet you, punching a sharp, broken moan from your throat.
"Goddamn," he rasps.
Fucking perfect. Your cunt squeezes him so good, so fucking good, making his grip tighten, his control slip. Every drag of your pussy is like heaven and hell—hot, wet, and dangerously addicting.
"So good, huh?" you slur, looking over your shoulder with that fucked-out smile he lives for.
You grind down again, angling your hips just right, and he's the one moaning now—deep, guttural sounds that make your stomach flutter. Jason growls, losing it. His hands clamp down on your waist, helping you move, guiding you to bounce faster, take him deeper.
"Just like that, doll. Fuck—yeah, just like that."
"Jay," you whimper, head tipping back, vision blurring. "Fuck, baby, s'so deep—"
"Yeah?" His voice is pure gravel, rough with need. Christ, the way you clench around him, so greedy for his dick. "Tell me how good it feels, baby."
Your breath hitches. God, you love when he makes you say it—makes you talk, makes you own it. Makes you admit just how desperate you are for him, how wrecked you feel with every thick inch stretching you open, leaving you no choice but to surrender to it. You love how it strips you bare, how he doesn't let you hide, doesn't let you play coy, not when you're dripping down his cock, not when your walls are fluttering around him.
It's embarrassing, but in a good way, because you know he's memorized the way your voice shakes when you beg, and you love giving him that—handing over every little piece of your pride until all that's left is you, fucked-out and trembling, just for him.
"Feels so g-good," you moan, hands sliding up to squeeze your tits. You arch into your own touch, whining as you tease your nipples. "You're so big, Jay... fuck, stretching me so good—"
That's it. Jason snaps. His grip tightens, bruising, hips thrusting up to meet you hard. His cock slams into you deep, hitting spots that have you seeing stars.
"Fuck, baby."
His voice is wrecked, but he lives for this: for you, drunk on him, taking every inch like you need it. Watching your pussy milk his cock, so messy, so fucking wet—it's too much.
But you're too lost, too drunk, too needy, and too far gone. You keep fucking yourself on his cock, overstimulated beyond reason—three orgasms already tearing through you, leaving you a shaking, needy mess—but it's not enough. It never is with him. Not when you're drunk like this, mind hazy, body warm, everything buzzing with that sweet, dizzy desperation. You need more.
Jason's got the view of a lifetime: the curve of your back arched perfectly, your ass bouncing as you ride him, thighs shaking from overstimulation. His hands grip your hips, fingers pressing bruises into your skin, and he swears he's never seen anything more perfect.
He can't see your face, but he doesn't need to because he's memorized every inch of you. He knows exactly what you look like when you're lost in pleasure: lips parted in messy moans, eyes fluttering shut, that fucked-out expression that drives him insane.
His jaw clenches. You're wrecked—completely ruined—but you still want it. Still riding him like you'll die if you stop, your thighs trembling, cunt gushing with every bounce. His cum from earlier, thick and warm, mixes with your slick, dripping down over his balls, making a mess of both of you.
"Look at you," Jason grits out, voice a low growl. "Fuckin'—shit, baby—you're insatiable."
His hands slide down, rough palms dragging over your waist, hips, ass. Goddamn, that ass. Perfect. Round, jiggling every time you drop down on him. He can't help himself—smack. His palm cracks against it, sharp and hot, making you yelp before moaning louder, grinding down harder.
Your thoughts are a disaster.
So good—so fucking good—can't stop—don't wanna stop—his dick's so big—God, I'm so full—so full—need more need more need more—
Jason groans, hips jerking up to meet you. "Fuckin'—baby, touch that pretty little clit for me."
His voice is rough, wrecked, commanding. He loves making you do it, especially when you're drunk like this. You're always bolder, shameless and so fucking hot, giving him everything he wants without hesitation. And just like he knew you would—
Your fingers find it. Your swollen, puffy clit, so sensitive it makes your whole body jolt. The second you touch yourself, your pussy clamps down on his cock, tight and fluttering, squeezing him so good it knocks the breath from his lungs.
"Fuck—yes, baby—just like that," Jason groans, voice fraying at the edges.
His grip tightens on your hips, guiding you, helping you ride him faster, rougher. You're moving like a woman possessed, chasing something you can't even put into words—just need need need—
Your moans are wild—loud, messy, filthy. You don't care. Can't. Not when every thrust has his dick grinding against that perfect spot inside, stretching you so wide it borders on overwhelming. God, you're soaked, slick squelching around him, spreading down your thighs, making everything wet, hot, and obscene.
Jason's mind is equally wrecked, focused entirely on how you feel, how you move, how filthy your moans sound. His palm smacks your ass, sharp and satisfying, and you cry out, cunt pulsing around him again.
"That's it, baby," he growls, voice wrecked. "Fuckin' take it."
And you do—God, you do—like you can't get enough.
Jason's chest heaves, sweat slicking his skin. Jesus fucking Christ, he's close, but he can't look away. Can't stop watching the way your cunt takes him, milking his dick with every roll of your hips. And that sweet little clit, that he just knows it's glistening under your fingers, your hand working it just like he told you. Obedient. Perfect.
"Yeah, baby—fuck, keep goin'," Jason growls, voice pure wreckage. "Look at you, ridin' me like you're starving for it. So fuckin' greedy, shit—"
Your body burns, thighs shaking, every nerve ending lit up and sparking. You don't know what's hotter: the filthy things he's saying or the way his cock fills you, dragging against your soaked, sensitive walls. All you know is you need it—you need him.
Your voice breaks on a sobbed moan, head falling back. "J-Jay, fuck, feels so good... 'm gonna—gonna—"
And Jason—eyes locked on where you're connected, where your messy, drenched pussy is wrecking him—just grins, breathless and feral.
"Cum for me, doll."
Your fingers work faster over your clit, desperate, chasing that high that's been simmering just beneath the surface. Every thrust of his cock pushes you closer—deeper, harder, rubbing right against that perfect spot inside. Your body tightens, thighs shaking, breaths coming in broken, high-pitched gasps. Almost there—so close—fuck.
And then it hits you.
Your orgasm crashes over you, a blinding, white-hot wave that steals the air from your lungs. Your pussy clamps down on him hard, squeezing and pulsing around his cock like a vice.
It's intense, overwhelming, sparks firing through your entire body as you sob out his name—"Jay, fuck. Oh my God—"
Your hips jerk uncontrollably, fucking yourself through it even as pleasure burns through you. Your clit throbs under your fingers, hypersensitive but you don't stop, can't—not when it feels this good. Slick gushes around him, soaking his cock, dripping down your thighs in messy, filthy streams. Your mind is a mess—so full of him, so fucking good, can't get enough—
Jason feels it. The way you clamp down on him, how your walls flutter and squeeze like you're trying to pull him even deeper.
"Fuck, baby, look at you—"
His voice is rough, wrecked, and it feeds the fire still flickering under your skin. You keep grinding, riding out every pulse, every aftershock, until your body's trembling, overstimulated and soaked in bliss.
Your breath stutters, hips finally slowing, but your pussy still twitches around him, milking every last bit of sensation.
And you can't stop moaning—messy, breathless, still drunk off him. "So good—fuck, Jay, love your dick—"
Your fingers keep rubbing over your clit, each swipe sending electric jolts straight through you. It's throbbing, pulsing under your touch, but you don't stop—you can't—not when his cock is stretching you open so perfectly, thick and hot, dragging against every sensitive spot inside you.
Your rhythm turns sloppy after a few minutes, hips stuttering, thighs trembling with exhaustion. Jason notices immediately. Of course he does. His hands tighten around your waist, and before you can protest, he pins you in place and fucks up into you—hard, deep, fast.
"Fuck, baby," he growls, voice wrecked.
His thighs flex beneath your hands as you brace yourself, nails digging into his skin. Every thrust punches a moan out of you, high-pitched and desperate. His dick drives into you relentlessly, so deep you swear you can feel it in your stomach.
Jason's brain is a haze of lust—so fucking tight, so warm, clamping down on me like she doesn't wanna let go. Your slick coats him, making everything filthy and wet. He watches your ass jiggle with every thrust, sees how your pussy's creaming all over his dick, and it's driving him insane.
"Jay, fuck, fuck—" You're slurring now, alcohol and pleasure tangling in your head. "So good, so big, baby... fill me up, please—"
That wrecks him.
His pace gets rougher, hips snapping up fast and hard, balls slapping against your soaked cunt. He grunts, jaw clenched tight, chasing that peak. Almost there. Fuck. You're squeezing him so tight, walls fluttering around his cock, sucking him in. He can feel it, you're close again, but so is he.
Then—fuck. He cums.
It hits him hard, shoving his dick as deep as it'll go and holding you there while thick, hot spurts of cum flood your needy, drenched walls. You feel it—feel him, how his cock pulses, how his cum gushes into you, filling you up, sticky and warm.
He groans, deep and guttural, hips jerking through it, fucking you through every wave of his orgasm. His mind blanks out, just you, just this, overwhelmed by how good you feel wrapped around him.
"Shit—baby—fuck," Jason pants, still moving, dragging it out until he's spent, cock twitching inside your soaked, cum-filled pussy.
And you? You're gone.
Still rubbing your clit, whimpering, mumbling out filthy praises between breathless moans. "Love your dick, baby. Fucking perfect, fills me up so good—need it, need you—fuck—"
Your words are messy, drunken, filthy, but he loves it. Loves how wild you get, how shameless you are when you're like this.
And he can't stop watching—your ass bouncing, his cum dripping down your thighs, your cunt still greedily milking him for every drop.
You whimper as Jason stills, his cock buried deep inside you, thick and hot, stretching you out perfectly. Your body trembles, aching, nerves on fire, but it's not enough—you need more. You glance over your shoulder, eyes half-lidded and lips parted, voice barely a murmur, soft and pleading.
"I wanna cum again, baby... please."
Jason doesn't hesitate. He never does when it comes to you.
A low groan rumbles from his chest as he sits upright, one strong arm winding tight around your waist. He keeps you right where he wants you: dick buried inside your dripping, overstimulated pussy, pressing your back flush to his chest. His breath is hot against your ear, lips brushing your temple, and then—fuck.
His free hand slides down, fingers slipping between your trembling thighs. He finds your swollen, sensitive clit and teases, circling it slowly, making you shudder against him.
"Yeah, doll?" His voice is low, rough in your ear. "Still wanna cum again, huh? Greedy little thing."
You moan, hips giving a weak roll, but he pins you in place with ease. His cock stays deep, so deep, pulsing inside your fluttering walls as he drags his fingers through the slick mess leaking from you both. Warm cum oozes out of your cunt, spilling around his cock and dripping onto his thighs, his balls, and fuck, that just makes it worse. Makes you needier.
Jason's fingers stay on your clit—puffy, sensitive, throbbing—and keeps rubbing slow, tight circles, gathering more of the mixed slick. "So hot, baby," he murmurs, lips grazing your temple.
You let out a needy little moan, hips twitching, but his arm around your waist keeps you still. Keeps you right where he fucking wants you.
"So greedy," he murmurs, his fingers pressing down a little harder, rubbing just right. You gasp, muscles tensing, back arching against him. He feels every tiny squeeze, every flutter of your cunt around his cock. "So sensitive, so fuckin' good for me. Keepin' my dick inside this pretty little pussy, squeezin' me so good, aren't you?"
Your head tips back against his shoulder, lips parting, but nothing comes out except a soft, wrecked sound. Your mind is blank—nothing but white noise and Jason Jason Jason. His cock is still inside you, thick and pulsing, stretching you wide as he keeps you there, his fingers rubbing your swollen clit with devastating precision.
His cum leaks from you, thick and warm, dripping down where you're still connected, and Jason sees it. Feels it. His breath shudders, his grip tightening, and fuck—he loves this.
"Look at you," he rasps, dragging slow, lazy circles around your throbbing clit. "So fuckin' desperate. So perfect, baby."
You whimper, thighs twitching, nails digging into his forearm. It's too much—but not enough, never enough. You don't care how overstimulated you are, don't care that your body is trembling, aching. You just need to cum again.
"You gonna sob for me, baby?" Jason's voice is low, teasing, rough as he rubs you harder, just how he knows you like it. "Gonna let me get you there again? Wanna feel you shake for me, doll. C'mon, pretty girl, let me have it."
Jason's fingers don't stop. If anything, he presses harder, rubbing your throbbing clit in those perfect, tight little circles that make your entire body tense, trembling against him. His arm around your waist locks you in place, cock still buried deep in your fluttering cunt, and you're a mess—soaked, overstimulated, clinging to him like you'll fall apart if he stops.
"That's it, baby," he murmurs against your ear, voice like dark velvet, warm breath fanning over your skin. "C'mon, doll. You're gonna cum for me again, aren't you? So good for me. So fuckin' pretty when you fall apart like this."
You sob, your body shaking, legs quivering as you press back into him. "Yes—God, yes—please, baby, I need—"
"Shh, pretty girl," he soothes, nipping at your jaw while his fingers keep working you, relentless and precise. "I know what you need. Let me give it to you, huh? Let me feel you soak my dick, doll."
Your breath hitches, your world narrowing down to the heat coiling in your gut, the burning need tightening, tighter, until it snaps.
Your orgasm hits like a freight train—toe-curling, mind-numbing, ripping through you with such intensity you sob, shaking as your body locks up. Your cunt clamps down on his cock, gripping him, milking him, slick walls fluttering as your vision whites out. Heat floods through you, and then—fuck.
The pleasure crashes into you, violent and all-consuming. Heat pools low in your belly, that molten coil snapping as you moan, sobbing out his name—"Jason, oh fuck..."—and then you gush, your release spilling out around his cock in a sudden, messy rush.
It's hot, wet, and relentless, soaking his lap, dripping down his thighs, splattering the sheets beneath you. Warmth pools under you, spreading between your legs, the slick mess seeping into the sheets.
You can feel it—sticky and slippery, dripping down both of you, coating his skin, soaking his hand where he keeps working you through it. Your thighs tremble uncontrollably, the mess spreading as you keep gushing, overstimulation leaving you gasping.
God, he loves this. Loves how fucking wet you get for him. Loves how you can only ever do this when you're drunk—a sloppy, soaked little mess, gushing all over him—and honestly? He doesn't get how that works, doesn't understand why it only happens then, but fuck if he cares. It's hot as hell.
Christ, you're soaking him—his lap, his thighs, the sheets—all of it. He can feel it, warm and sticky, dripping down both of you. Squirted all over his dick, his hand, the mess absolutely filthy.
He should probably be concerned about how wrecked you are—but all he can think about is how you gush for him, how you fall apart so perfectly in his hands. Messy. Soaked. Perfect.
"Fuck, baby—fuck, look at you—"
His voice is strained, hungry, eyes dark as he watches you soak him, his grip tightening when he feels you gush around his dick. His hips jerk up, pushing that thick head deeper, brushing your cervix again just to hear the way you whimper. God, he lives for this—for you losing yourself, cunt pulsing and fluttering around him, slick dripping everywhere.
His fingers don't stop. Slow, deliberate circles on your clit, drawing out every last shudder, every last shake until you're whimpering, nails digging into his arm, fresh tears pricking at your eyes from the sheer overload.
"That's it," Jason murmurs against your ear, pressing a kiss to your temple. "Ride it out, pretty girl. I've got you. Fuck, you're incredible. So messy, so fuckin' hot."
And it's not just the mess—it's you. The way your body shakes, the way you sob through the overstimulation, how your cunt keeps fluttering, clinging to his dick. How you lose yourself so completely, pretty little head thrown back against his shoulder, breath hitching in broken gasps, mind blank except for him.
Jason's fingers slow, easing the pressure on your clit until he's just tracing soft, lazy circles, helping you ride out those last tremors. Beneath you, the sheets are ruined, soaked through. His lap is a mess, cock still buried deep, his own restraint hanging by a thread as he watches you—so wrecked, so beautiful.
"Look at this fuckin' mess you made," he whispers against your skin, smirking against your temple.
His words melt into your overheated skin, sending a shiver down your spine. Your chest heaves, breaths ragged, sob slipping past your lips as your cunt pulses, fluttering helplessly, still aching for him.
"Pretty little thing, soakin' me like that... Fuck, I'll never get enough of you."
Your body melts into him, spent, every muscle trembling, heart pounding against your ribs.
"Hey," he murmurs, voice a low rumble against your ear as he presses a warm, tender kiss to your temple. "You okay, baby?"
His hand soothes over your skin, grounding you while you sniffle, legs weak, cunt still twitching with aftershocks. You can't do anything but nod, body limp, still buzzing with heat.
His dick is still buried deep inside, stretching you wide, and your pussy flutters, oversensitive and soaked. You nod, half-embarrassed, half-overwhelmed, but Jason keeps soothing you, thumb brushing soft along your hip.
After a few minutes, he shifts, careful, and eases you off his cock. You whine, empty and aching, and your body shudders as his length slides out, sticky with both your releases. Cum leaks out of you in a slow trickle, coating your inner thighs, and your stretched cunt twitches, pulsing as air rushes in.
"C'mere," Jason chuckles, guiding you into his arms like you weigh nothing.
You don't even move—you collapse, boneless and wrecked against his chest. His skin is warm, solid, and you nuzzle in, cheek pressed to those broad, muscular pecs.
His hand rubs slow circles along your back, voice soft. "You did so good, pretty girl."
But then—of course—he grins. "Fuckin' soaked the sheets, huh?" he teases.
You groan, pouty and drunk, burying your face in his chest. "Jay... I ruined them.."
"Nah, baby, fuck the sheets, we'll just wash them," he says, lips against your hair, voice satisfied. "That was hot as fuck."
Your sniffles turn into a soft, bashful laugh, still too gone to argue, but Jason? He loves you like this. Soft, fucked-out, messy, curled against him with his cum dripping out of you. His heart is full, mind stuck on the image of your cunt gushing around him, soaking him completely.
You tilt your head up, gaze blurry and soft, lips swollen and pink from how much you've bitten them, your chest still heaving. Jason's eyes drop to your mouth, and—fuck—he can't help himself.
"C'mere," he murmurs again, and before you can think—before you want to—he's leaning down, catching your mouth with his.
The kiss is messy, hot, his tongue licking into you, claiming every soft, sweet sound you let out. You whimper, body melting, and let him, lips parting under his like you were made to. His mouth devours you—warm, demanding, tasting like lust and need, and you moan, the sound spilling into him.
Your thoughts? Fucked. Hazy and lost in him. God, you love him. Love his lips, his hands, his dick, everything. He's everywhere, everything, and you can't think—don't even want to. All you know is Jason. His heat, his taste, the way his hand cradles your jaw like you're precious, even as his tongue fucks into your mouth, hungry and needy.
Jason's head? Gone. Fuck, he loves kissing you. Loves how soft you are against him, how your lips cling to his like you need him to breathe. His chest tightens with it—all that fierce, aching love. God, he loves every inch of you. Your messy hair, your swollen lips, the way he knows your cunt still throbs, sticky and wrecked.
And you—God—you kiss him back, hungry, slow, like you never want to stop. Your fingers curl into his hair, and he groans, hips twitching because fuck, you always get him like this.
His mouth moves against yours—slow, claiming. And you? You let him take whatever he wants. The kiss stretches on, turns messy, filthy, tongues sliding together in a wet, heady tangle.
His dick, hot and rock hard, presses against your belly, sticky with remnants of cum and fresh precum already leaking out, but you don't care. All you want is him. His mouth, his heat, the way his fingers keep you close, holding you like you belong there.
Your drunken mind spins—God, how does he taste this good? How is he still so hard after wrecking you? But then his tongue sweeps into your mouth again, and thinking becomes impossible.
His brain is fucked, caught between how good you taste and how your warm skin drags against his aching dick. God, you're soft, you always are, and the heat of you—fuck. He can feel the smear of slick and cum between you both, messy and hot, and he loves it. Loves how you don't care, how you just keep kissing him, hungry and needy, your fingers digging into his hair.
Your chest presses close, nipples hard and brushing against him, and his dick throbs, precum smearing your skin as you grind up a little without thinking, chasing that heat. Neither of you pull away, tongues sliding, breaths hot and mingled, until your lungs burn. You pant into his mouth, fuzzy, heart pounding, body buzzing from him—his touch, his taste, the love spilling between lust and haze.
And still, you kiss him.
Until you're breathless, lips swollen, hearts racing. Until you both slow, soften, mouths parting with one last lazy swipe of his tongue, his hands steady on your waist, yours tangled in his hair.
His forehead drops to yours, breath warm, shaky. Your mind? Spinning. His thoughts? A mess. And between you? Heat. Love. Need.
But for now... just you and him. Breathless. Close. Jason pulls away just enough to press a lingering kiss to your forehead, his lips soft, breath still warm against your skin. You melt into him, arms curling tight around his torso as your cheek rests against his sticky chest, body still buzzing, heart slowing. His fingers trace lazy patterns along your spine, soothing you with those gentle little touches that always calm you down.
When you look up at him, your eyes hazy, face flushed, and that bratty little pout he loves makes an appearance. He chuckles because he just can't help it—God, you're adorable.
"What do you want me to order?" he asks, voice still rough from kissing you stupid.
Your voice goes all soft, that particular tone you get every time you want food, and he knows what's coming.
"Can we get pizza?" you murmur, blinking up at him with wide, pleading eyes.
He laughs, genuine, fond. "Yeah, baby, we can get pizza."
Your eyes brighten, that tipsy happiness radiating off you like warmth. "With extra cheese?"
"With whatever you want," he grins, thumb brushing your cheek. "Say it and I'll get it for you."
But then your pout deepens, lips plumping up in that way that makes him wanna kiss you all over again. "But we need to clean up first..."
He snorts, shakes his head. "Nah. I need to clean you up first. And the sheets."
His gaze flicks to the bed, still soaked from earlier, and he grins, teasing. Your eyes widen, face heating up, and you whine, "Jay, stop that—"
Smack. His hand lands on your ass playfully, and you yelp, swatting at him with a giggly, half-hearted shove.
"Brat," he says, grinning.
"But you loooove me," you sing-song, drunk and smug, eyes sparkling.
"You know I do, baby," he murmurs, softness bleeding into every word. He leans in, playfully nips the tip of your nose, making you giggle all over again. "C'mon," he says, "let's get movin'."
Later—showered, clean, and still tipsy—you're curled up against him on the couch, a box of demolished pizza on the table, extra cheese and all. You'd insisted on finding something to watch, flipping through garbage TV until settling on some random show neither of you cared about.
He knew you'd fall asleep. Knew it. But you'd pouted when he suggested skipping it, so here you are—your head on his chest, breath evening out, body warm and soft against his. His arm drapes over your shoulders, pulling you closer, and he glances down to find you completely gone, lashes fluttering against your cheeks.
And God... he wouldn't change a damn thing. Not the mess you both made of the sheets. Not the pizza crumbs on the blanket. Not the soft little snores escaping you as you nuzzle in closer, like you're meant to fit there.
This? This is it. You and him. Laughing. Loving. Messy, loud, quiet, bratty, perfect.
Jason smiles, presses a kiss to your hair, and lets you sleep, his heart full.
In which love conquers all, especially on Valentine’s Day — in fact, your love is so blinding that red flags begin to look pink.
to celebrate the valentines season, @lotties-ashwagandha and I will be writing a series of red pink flag fics with some impure premises. these fics follow a theme of toxic characters and situations, stalking, corruption, gaslighting etc will be present. read at your own discretion!
★SEX SELLS
sexbot!gojo x reader
when you cave and order the latest ai companion model, you expect an obedient machine to satisfy your needs. instead, you're sent gojo — an advanced, hyperintelligent sex bot with a little too much sex sentience. and a bone to pick when you try and shut him down.
★FALLEN ANGELS
fallen angels caleb & zayne x reader
you've spent years in devotion to the angels caleb and zayne, figureheads of divinity, beauty and wisdom. but your faith turns to obsession, and obsession to lust. when the heavens reject them, caleb and zayne fall right into your willing arms. but sin tastes good, and you're more than willing to kneel in a different kind of worship.
★HOUSE OF MIRRORS
ghostface!nanami + ino x reader
your boyfriend takes you on a valentines day date to an old carnival grounds abandoned after an incident during halloween. you just don't know that he invited his mentor to join the both of you in the house of mirrors, and that your boyfriend is being mentored in something a lot deadlier than sorcery.
★THE BREEDING CEREMONY
cult leader geto x reader
being geto's most devout follower grants you privileges your fellow cultists don't get, such as the privilege of being the one to bear him an heir. so long as you agree to partake in the breeding ceremony, and let the cult see just how dedicated you are to your leader.
★COLLATERAL
drug dealer!toji x reader
your older brother made a deal with the wrong man, and now he can't pay up. toji doesnt do charity, so he takes you as collateral, lets you work off your brothers debt. it’s nothing personal—just how he does business.
★THE SACRIFICIAL LAMB
demon!sylus x reader
you're the poor soul chosen by the village to be sent as a sacrifice to appease the demon that lives beyond the treelines. he could kill you. he should. but he has a much better use for a little lamb like you. after all, if they were so willing to give you away, he’ll just have to keep you.
if you ever wanted a rough zayne.... here we go. so sorry for what I'm about to say next
This zayne would absolutely make you kneel in front of him. Not listening? No worries, nothing a gentle slap on your cheek or hand fisting your hair won't get across as he forces you to your knees.
This zayne would also get off on getting called master, he doesn't want to admit it but it probably makes his brain go fuzzy seeing you look up at him between his thighs and call out to him in a sweet, humiliated tone. Are you embarrassed?
This zayne also makes you get yourself off using his shoe. Needy? Okay, take care of it yourself and let him watch.
I don't make the rules I just carry on the message
⏭ summary: your best friend gojo is a hopeless otaku virgin with zero rizz that's still obsessed with digimon—despite being a grown ass man. you're a slut who despite her best whoring efforts—can't cum. you'll take his v-card and he'll fix your broken pussy, deal? college au.
⏭ cw: virgin!satoru, gentle sex then rough sex , spanking (ass & pussy), slight sugar daddy/baby dynamic, coercion, dubcon, ecchi/pervy/freak nasty satoru, apprehensive bimbo!reader scared to nut, reader is also a bit of a tsundere brat but this isn't brat taming per se, oral fixation, toe licking, riding, prone bone, missionary, pussy eating, deep-throating, forced gagging, fingering, squirting, edging, olfactophilia, hand-job, protected & unprotected sex, bdsm references, masturbation, bit of somnophilia, pet names: Bunny (reader is called that in lieu of y/n), suggestions of geto x reader, mentions of satosugu and shokohime.
⏭ a/n: in my crack smut bag again cause this white haired demon wont let me rest until i write this nasty shit. fr tho this fic 13.3k and literally 10k of it is Gojo fucking you six ways to sunday. fyi this is the same y/n from nerd!geto but this is a different version of that AU where suguru is the one who has rizz and satoru is the nerd. y'all better read this or i'll never write gojo again istg lmfao. also shoutout to @halosdiary for beta reading and telling me it was good enough to post lol.
eta: y'all won. its a series now lol
“FUCK YEAH, LET’S GO!!! I ALONE AM THE CHAMPION OF THE DIGITAL WORLD!!!”
Startled by Gojo’s sudden outburst—you nearly rolled off the bed.
Thankfully Suguru is sitting next to you and caught you before you fell off completely.
Fully energized by his win Gojo sprang up from his elaborate PC setup, bouncing around the room in celebration. Fist-pumping the air he couldn’t contain his excitement after winning the Tokyo Regional Qualifiers for the Digimon Online TCG.
“Guys, hey guys! See! I told you I’d win! I’m the strongest! The digidestined!”
You and Suguru exchanged exasperated glances before side-eyeing the hell out of Gojo.
This went on for a good 10 minutes so you had since returned to mindlessly scrolling TikTok, not wanting to encourage your grown-ass-almost-22-years-old-best-friend’s excitement over a children’s game.
“You sure showed those middle schoolers, Toru.”
Suguru quips with a smile. He’s clearly being sarcastic but Gojo is unfazed—nothing could damper his mood.
“Damn straight I did!”
Both you and Suguru have to chuckle, rolling your eyes at his childish enthusiasm.
Despite the shared sentiment of annoyance over your best friend’s hobbies, you both were just happy to have Gojo back again. Two long years had passed since his parents made him travel the world on a rotation program, tasked with visiting the various Six-Vision Industries offices he would one day inherit.
Being the nerdy genius he was, Gojo stacked a mass of university level credits in high school. So even with missing the first two years of college he’d still be joining you as a third year at your university come fall.
After being apart for so long it was refreshing to hang out again and kicking it at Gojo’s mansion had been a daily occurrence since the start of the summer. Although things had definitely changed in the two years Gojo had been away there was one thing that certainly hadn’t.
Gojo was still a fucking huge otaku nerd.
You’d thought his time spent in the business world would have matured him. However, being abroad, away from his friends and spending all day around the ‘stinky old fogeys in suits’ as he called them, only made him retreat further into otakudom.
That much was evident as his collection of posters, figures and manga had somehow only seemed to grow even with him away.
“Alright, while I just would love to stick around and hear more about you destroying the dreams of 12 year olds Toru—beach girl just texted me, gotta bounce!”
Suguru tries to leave but Toru clings onto him practically spider monkeying himself onto his back in an effort to get him to stay.
“Sugu! Don’t leave! We’ve already been apart from each other for too long~~”
Sighing, Suguru attempts to pry his incorrigible bestie off of him.
“Satoru, you just spent the last 5 hours playing Digimon acting like me and Bunny weren’t even here. I’m sure if you go back to playing you won't even miss me.”
Gojo continues to pout as he whines for Suguru to stay.
“But I miss you already Sugu!”
Gojo presses his cheek against Suguru’s as Suguru’s eyebrow begins to twitch.
“I know! Invite your date here! Our chef is 10 times better than any restaurant you’d go to and you know we have an infinity pool grotto and onsen!
While the offer was tempting as any potential date would be thoroughly wowed by the decadent splendor that was the Gojo Family Residence—Suguru would also thoroughly cuck himself once his date was given the grand tour.
Particularly the stop which included Gojo’s anime figure and otaku memorabilia rooms.
While a good number of them were harmlessly nerdy shonen or slightly ecchi isekai figures—the rest? Well the rest contained every kind of freak nasty hentai figure you could think of—shibari, futanari and even the classic La Blue Girl tentacle dioramas—it was like a horny museum.
Although at this point it should be considered a horny mausoleum as no woman who walked in would be walking out still in the mood—it was surely a place where horny went to die.
“Uh yeah, sure next time Toru….”
Suguru reaches back to pat Gojo on the head reassuringly.
Lying as he was more than certain there wouldn’t be a next time. There wasn’t even going to be dinner—this was purely a hookup situation.
“...but she’s already waiting for me outside my place—gotta run!”
Realizing Gojo still wasn’t letting go, Suguru sighs realizing this would require him utilizing his Judo training.
In one swift movement, Suguru manages to shoulder-wheel Gojo and toss him onto the other side of his massive bed. The bed rebounds as he lands, slightly lifting you off your belly but you still are more interested in your phone.
This isn’t the first time Suguru has Judo thrown Gojo off of him (likely wouldn’t be the last either).
Saying quick goodbyes before Gojo could recover, Suguru manages to slip away.
“Traitor!!! So much for bros before hoes!”
Utterly dejected, Gojo crawls up next to you on his massive bed.
“At least I still have you here Bunny.”
“Uh, not to pile on but you know I’m only here until Shoko and Utahime text me they are ready to go to the mall, right? I’m in dire need of a new handbag!”
Now clinging on to you Gojo throws another small tantrum as the weight of half his sinewy body presses into your back, his lean muscular arms wrapping around your shoulders.
“Not you too, Bunny puhleeease!”
You’ve known each other since you were in diapers so it wasn’t odd for you, him or Suguru to be found giving the others platonic cuddles like this—often all together too. The both of them were always so much bigger than you so you often enjoyed the comfort and security of always being the filling in the cuddle sandwich.
Gojo rests his chin on your shoulder watching as you continue scrolling TikTok. You sit in comfortable silence for a few minutes before his irritatingly hyperactive nature gets the best of him, and he starts poking around your phone to click on other videos that weren’t the 'mystery and makeup' ones you were watching.
“Toru, you know you could get a lot of your own hoes to hang out with if you weren’t such a huge otaku nerd…”
You had to swat Gojo’s hand away again as he tries to click on another prank video and he rolls off of you with a frustrated sigh.
“...you’re almost as good looking as Suguru…”
Muttering the last part of that under your breath. Arguably Gojo’s features were just as if not more striking than Suguru’s.
He was too hot himself for all of it to go to waste for being such a big dork.
“I’m sure Sugu would be happy to teach you ‘the way of the fuckboy’ if you asked Toru—that is if you’d actually go out clubbing like a normal 21 year old.”
“Why would I do that though? My house is 100 times better than a club!”
Touché.
While no one in your friend group was what someone would consider poor, Gojo’s wealth paled in comparison to anyone else’s and that went without saying. He’d had everything—if not more—than even the nicest tokyo club had. This was all thanks to his parents as socialites in their own right, often entertaining businessmen, dignitaries or foreign representatives with their ultra-exclusive parties.
“Besides, it wouldn't work—”
Gojo continued to pout.
“—Suguru would just get all the hoes anyway.”
Easily able to walk up to even the most standoffish looking women, Suguru would have them reduced to bashful school girls in under 5 minutes. The women were always willing to hand over their numbers or drop any immediate plans to hang out with Suguru instead.
A good number of them had boyfriends already too.
Yet despite having the looks, Gojo opening his mouth ruined any advantage his lustrous blue eyes, exotic snow white hair and sharp handsome features gave him.
“Well, Suguru has a normal 21 year old’s room for starters, Toru. Not full of nerdy ass anime posters and Digimon tournament trophies.”
Gojo goes quiet.
Driven from an early age to fill his head with knowledge of politics, technology, and international business relations, he spent the precious free time he did get with his friends or consumed by his own interests. Interests which just happened to be a bunch of otaku shit—Digimon in particular.
It was an escape he’d cherished as a child and that didn’t change growing into adulthood either, if anything he needed it more now.
When Gojo doesn’t answer you look over to see him actually sulking for real now—face buried in a giant Agumon pillow plushie.
What a crybaby.
But the crybaby was one of your besties so you decided to lighten the mood and tease him a little.
“Ya know Toruuuu….you could just fuck Sugu then. Don’t think I haven’t seen y’all get a lil’ handsy during our cuddles!”
You give him a playful smirk and mime grabby hands at him.
“Oh and you haven’t? Don’t act like you wouldn’t fuck Suguru either!”
No longer appearing mopey, Gojo is up and laughing again.
Mission Accomplished.
“Hey! I never said I wouldn’t but this isn’t about me, this is about you finally getting some play!”
You snap back but you’re blushing.
Like damn, who hadn’t thought about fucking Suguru though?
“It's not the same if he makes me bottom! Plus no one thinks I can get pussy!”
Gojo grumbles, hugging his Agumon plushie to his cheek.
You can’t help but notice how cute and baby girl he looks all pouty.
He’d definitely get women lining up around the block of his huge ass mansion if he could at least get to the dating phase without giving out the otaku ick.
“Because you can’t Gojo—Hoes don’t want to fuck guys who play Digimon!”
“But you’re a hoe and you like digimon too!”
Turning to look at him, you’d had half a mind to slap the shit out of Satoru but he had said it so earnestly. There was no sass nor malice behind his words.
Besides, you were a hoe. That wasn’t something you ever denied.
You sigh.
“Yeah I am a hoe now and I—keyword—liked Digimon. But that was back when I was a kid, Toru!”
Gojo scoffs and rolls his eyes.
“Listen, you’re my friend so m’gonna keep it a buck with you—a guy concerned with being digidestined is definitely not pussy destined, you digidork!”
You playfully hit him with the pillow you were laying on, not wanting him to start sulking again.
Finally stimulated by something interesting Gojo wastes no time joining the pillow fight you initiated and you tussle with him on the bed until you both are exhausted and out of breath.
Of course you come out of it victorious though. By the end you’d pinned both the pillows and Toru under you.
Gojo however is back to pouting.
“Ugh, Bunny seriously though—I can’t go into junior year of college as a virgin!”
You smirk at his complaints as the answer is obvious.
“Throw away your figures and digimon cards then.”
“I’d rather die.”
“A virgin? At this rate you will.”
Gojo huffs in defeat as you settle comfortably on top of him this time.
You’re about to reach for your phone again until you see a curious look flash across his face—the kind of look he always had as a kid when he thought of a hair-brain scheme that would lead to getting you all in trouble.
“Toru—what is it? And why do I have the feeling m’not gonna like it?”
You pull away cautiously, but his large hands grip your waist, stopping you and causing you to squeak in surprise.
“Hm, I dunno—was just thinkin’... why don’t you fuck me, Bunny?”
Your deadpan expression has Gojo scrambling, holding you closer in a vice grip when you try to squirm away.
“Hey! Wait, I’m serious! Come on, Bunny! I need the experience and you always tell us about all your hookups! You have the experience—help a guy out!”
Staring at him skeptically you considered.
I mean sure, you always thought Gojo was attractive, more so since he returned this summer nearly a half a foot taller—but he was Gojo Satoru.
Your dorky, goofy, pervy otaku bestie practically since birth!
You couldn’t just go and fuck him could you?
God, you could only imagine the taunts you’d get if word got out. Your friend group would never let you live it down!
“Nah Toru—that would be too weird!”
“Huh, how come? You said I was almost as attractive as Suguru earlier!”
You stiffen.
Fuck, he’d heard that after all.
“Ooo, ooo! Annnnd, you said last week you wanted a sugar daddy… Well, hi! I’m right here!”
The huge grin on his face has you frowning although more so because he was actually making some sense for once. I mean you were half-joking when you said it—well, let’s be honest not really.
However, you mostly said it because while your family was well off enough, you still weren’t living in the lap of luxury by any means like a Gojo clan member. Unfortunately for you though, you were born with the expensive tastes of someone who was.
So while you could afford a cute Chanel bag or a MCM wallet here or there, you’d set your sights on something higher—a coveted Hermes Birkin.
Toru certainly could afford to buy you a whole truck load of them with what his family made in less than an hour.
Nevertheless that wasn’t really the issue at hand.
In spite of you being far from a virgin, there was actually a good reason why you wouldn’t be a good choice for Gojo to lose his v-card.
“Er, em—that’s really not the issue, Toru…”
Trailing off you’re the one pouting now as you glance at your nails.
“Then what? Don’t tell me our lil’ Bun Bun is shy now? Over lil’ ol’ me?”
Gojo teases you by sticking out his tongue—chuckling when you snap your head up to glare at him.
“You wish…”
You grumble, chewing your lip now and debating whether or not to tell him the truth while Gojo looks at you with wide and glassy puppy eyes. Shaking your head you come to the conclusion you could trust him with your secret.
He was the virgin otaku after all—he’s the one who should be embarrassed here!
“It’s just that…I–I can’t cum.”
Gojo just blinks at you.
Clearly confused with metaphorical question marks surrounding his head as that's definitely not the answer he was expecting.
“I’ve slept with plenty of guys before but I never had an orgasm. I don't even really get close—I mean, sure, it feels good, I guess—mostly just a little weird. I heard some people just can’t and maybe that's me.”
You shrug, a bit nervous to look Gojo in the eye as you thought he may tease you further about this but was lost in contemplation. Almost as if he was seriously trying to do the biological math around what you’d just told him.
After about a minute more he finally asks—
“—Does Suguru know?”
A simple question, unloaded in tone as Gojo is genuinely curious but it leaves you flustered nonetheless.
“What?! Are you crazy?! Why would I tell him?!”
“Just figured if anyone could then—”
“—Hell no, Toru! Besides, what if he does? I’m not trying to be reduced to a fuckboy’s pick me if he ends up being the only man alive who can give me an orgasm!”
Sure Suguru was hot as fuck—as was a lot of your other fuckboy friends (Toji and Sukuna)—but you definitely didn’t want to end up like the dickmatized girls that would follow them around and literally box each other in the streets over some cock.
You weren’t much of a fighter anyway and your face was far too cute to be getting scratched up.
Pussy should be put on a pedestal, not the other way around. You’d continue to be orgasmless before it came to that.
“Mm, but Shoko and Utahime know?”
You’re blushing more than ever this time.
“Um, yeah—T-They said once I realized all men were worthless to call them and they’d give me multiple of them.”
Gojo snorted at that but he was now convinced you both could help each other.
“So we have no other options—then it's settled!”
In one fluid motion Gojo snatches away the pillows from between you and swaps positions—now with you on the bottom.
“Huh–wait—Toru!?”
Gojo groans.
“Come on, Bunny! I want pussy, you want to cum on top of getting that Bikram bag—
“—Birkin bag.”
You corrected him.
“Yeah that one! So let’s help each other out, eh? PULHEEEASEEE—Just the tip?”
You weren’t at all convinced that Gojo—whose sexual knowledge came purely from JAV, hentai and onaholes—could make you cum.
But then again sure, fuck it, why not?
You were getting bored waiting for Shoko to call you anyway and if Toru was willing to come off a Birkin for a lil’ pussy, you might as well fuck him.
None of the other guys you had fucked even came close to making sex this worth it. Frankly this would be worth it even if you didn’t actually cum.
“Fiiiine Toru, let’s have sex—”
“FUCK YEAH!”
“—BUT we’re laying down some ground rules!”
Sitting up with a straight back, Gojo obediently awaited your orders.
“Anything you want Bunny, name 'em go’on!”
Gojo’s overenthusiasm was like a puppy and you were sure if he had a tail it would be thumping on the bed like crazy now.
You wanted to crack a smile but you know from prior experience that if you give men an inch they will take the whole goddamn mile—and Gojo of all people was no exception—so you are firm as you sit up to look in his eyes and lay down the law.
“First—like you said, just the tip.”
Gojo started to protest but the raise of your eyebrows had him changing his tune immediately.
“Got it! Got it! Just the tip would be amazing Bunny, what else?”
He chided himself and you continued.
“And secondly, just because you bros have no loyalty, it’s still ‘chicks before dicks’ over here. You better get your nut quick cause I’m still leaving to go purse shopping when Shoko and Utahime call me.”
Gojo waves you off with that rule.
“Psh, we should have plenty of time, it's almost 6pm! They’ve probably been too busy bumping their own purses together to go shopping with you for one. You haven’t heard from either of them in hours!”
Fair point—wildly out of pocket, but fair.
Still.
“Bumping Purses!? Really, Toru?”
“You know I’m not lying—but that’s it then, right Bunny?”
Not waiting, Gojo throws his shirt off and starts fumbling with the ties on his sweats before you stop him.
“Nah, Toru, hold your horses! One more rule!”
Freezing mid-action, Gojo's hands are shaking as he expectantly gazes at you, waiting for the last condition before you give him the green light.
“Finally, third—and most fucking importanly—if you make any, and I mean even just ONE—otaku reference, especially Digimon while you’re inside me I’ll snap your lil’ digidick off, understood?”
Gojo swallowed.
Hard terms to live with but something he would be willing to abide by for pussy.
“Yes ma’am! Got it! Just the tip, you will ditch me for the purse bumpers and no Digimon!”
Gojo repeats your rules matter-of-factly.
You roll your eyes but are satisfied enough he understood and you wave him off in the direction of your bag.
“Good. Now, be a good boy and go get a rubber out of my purse.”
Bolting over to your purse Gojo grabs a pack of condoms and is back on the bed in an instant.
Reality sinking in on what you were about to do and who you were about to do it with, you suddenly become hyper aware, appraising Gojo.
You note just how much in the two years since high school he’s grown. Still a bit lanky in areas but overall he filled out more for sure and his muscles were much more defined rippling underneath his skin as he eagerly clambered over you. Gojo still possessed the same piercing sky blue eyes that lit up a room but they looked all too predatorily hungry now that he was hovering over you.
You swallow.
You’d feel almost completely out of control of the situation if it wasn’t also for the bundle of nervous energy radiating off of Gojo—his hands spasming like he might bust his pants the moment he touches you.
You try to maintain your composure, but your jaw drops and your eyes widen in shock when he finally pushes his sweats and boxers down in one swift motion.
Gojo was fucking huge!
“Toru—what the actual fuck?!”
Third leg was a massive understatement.
I mean you didn’t think he’d be small—you’d been around him enough in boxers, sweats, pjs, etc growing up—but you didn’t expect this.
He was definitely a grower and Christ did he just fucking grow!
Gojo looked puzzled until he followed your wide eyed gawking down to his lower half.
Heh.
“Am I the biggest you’ve seen, Bunny?”
Growing prideful Gojo pokes at you a bit and your ogling only grows more incredulous.
You didn't know if he was the girthiest but certainly the longest by far. He’d actually puncture a lung if he stuck that whole monstrous thing in you!
It would literally have to be just the tip and you are thanking God right now that he’d already agreed to those terms. That would be much too uncomfortable to cum from and you are beginning to question how the pornstars manage. This wasn’t a JAV but Gojo, if his company ever went belly up, certainly had a promising career on OnlyFans ahead of him.
Gojo’s chest puffed up ten times more from your staring as he slipped the condom on (which only fit two-thirds of the way down).
“O-Ok, Bunny now you!”
His cock throbbed more violently the longer you looked at him. The anticipation is contagious to say the least and you can't help but feel your chest warm at his eagerness.
Gojo wants to get the attention off of him and you smile at him knowingly.
“You mean you don’t want to take my clothes off yourself?”
The thought never occurred to Gojo but he dumbly nodded. Your yelps echo in the room as his massive hands are on your hips faster than lighting pulling you towards him.
The motion causes your tits to jiggle, the soft mounds moving freely beneath your spaghetti strapped halter and Gojo berates himself on how he only now is noticing you weren’t wearing a bra all this time.
Gojo’s mouth goes dry at your nipples, already peaked and poking through the thin fabric.
Your nipples pucker further when the crisp air of the A/C hits them after Gojo pulls your top overhead and you arch up to assist, not realizing you presented yourself to him like a treat to a dog.
“T-Toru!!!!”
Gojo wraps his strong sturdy arms fully around your body. Pressing his face deep into your chest as his warm wet lips latch onto a nipple. His mouth now suctioned to you, Gojo swirls and flicks his tongue around the hardened bud. Gojo moans around your flesh, pleasantly surprised at how addicting the sweet salty taste of your skin is.
If Gojo wasn’t sure he had an oral fixation before he surely knows now. Zoning out everything else except for the sloppy sounds of him worshiping your breast, he relishes the contrasting textures of his rough tongue suckling the soft skin of your swelling bud.
Gojo surely would have been latched onto you for hours and you are only able to pry his head away when he releases your nipple with a wet pop to take a breath.
“TORU!!!”
You’re panting and red faced as you yank his head back.
But Gojo is a man solely focused—tongue hanging out off his mouth captivated by how cutely your areola puffed as it glistened with his spit and fighting overwhelming desire to get the other one in a similar state.
“Huh–Bunny, b-baby—you taste so good n’ your tiddies are so nice—so fuh-kin’ soft.”
Gojo’s tongue is hanging out of his mouth drooling as he attempts to dive back into your chest. you feel his heavy cock on your thigh as his hips begin to rut against you.
This was too much!
“Stop Toru! You’re being too rough, they are sensitive! Besides, times’ ticking! Remember I have no problem leaving you blue balled if Shoko or Utahime call me!”
You do your best to give him a disapproving look as you blush.
“Awe but you seemed like you were liking it, you were whining loud enough.”
“Shut up n’just get on with it!”
“Yes ma’am~~”
Enjoying your breasts so much Gojo almost forgot he hadn’t even seen your pretty pussy yet.
Making quick work of your shorts, Gojo manages to pull them down just over your core but is stunned once again as he burns the image of the skin-melding fabric of the mesh hot pink g-string covering your cunt. The thin satiny straps dug into your supple hips amplifying your curvaceous form.
Fucking slutty as hell!
Rivaling that of even his most favorite and most scandalous hentai figures.
This was so much better, so much more lewd as the clingy fabric struggles to cover the fat of your plump pussy lips—not like the transparency of them left much to the imagination.
God help him, he just wants to tear them off with his teeth and open mouth swan-dive into your dewy lil’cunt—-pushing his tongue deep into your peachy core tongue fucking orgasm after orgasm out of you until he drowned in your milky nectar—but he has to restrain himself.
You probably wouldn’t like that too much given your reaction earlier and he’d die if you’d happen to just call the whole thing off.
Mouth drying and hands twitching—Gojo is trying so hard to be a good boy and contain his more perverted instincts.
“Earth to Toru! Y-You good?”
Gojo looked like a tightly wound coil ready to pop in every sense of the word and you hated that his nervousness was making you nervous too.
So on edge you almost jumped once his eyes snapped up to meet yours.
“G-Great, Bunny…j-just fine.”
Gojo’s voice falters, becoming more pitchy and you giggle. As much as Gojo wants to look at your pussy as he peels the flimsy moist fabric off of them he couldn’t do that at this moment—he would actually bust his pants.
Instead, Gojo leans in to kiss you, but you block him. He ends up kissing your palm instead.
“Toruuu… that be too weird, we’re friends remember?”
“Yeah friends who are fucking, Bunny! You mean you won’t let my tongue in your mouth but you’re letting my dick inside your pussy?!”
You knew it sounded nonsensical even before he said it back to you. But your heart was pounding so loudly in your ears you could barely hear him anyway.
You didn’t know what you were scared of this time?
You had let all your other previous hookups makeout with you but Gojo was different.
This felt entirely different.
You didn’t know why, you just knew it was and you were apprehensive of the unfamiliar emotions he was stirring in you and this wasn’t supposed to be anything more than an arrangement between friends.
“Don’t you need to warm up tho Bunny? Obviously m’no pro at this—but even I know a little bit more foreplay is usually needed?”
Your heart beats louder at his concern but you push that aside trying to focus on your breaths.
Satoru should have been the easiest lay but for a reason that alludes—you were coming undone before him.
“Shut up Toru and just fuck me! The foreplay stuff doesn't matter, it won't make a difference anyway, m’not gonna cum! Also you’re big af so grab your lube. We're gonna need lots of it!”
Toru pouts but follows your commands without fuss.
Although he’s anxious to get his dick wet he also is still thinking of how he can hold up his end of the bargain other than a stupid purse.
You said he didn’t need to but he wanted to.
The thought of finally losing his v-card excited him but there was something that made his cock throb harder at being the first man to give you an orgasm.
But you don’t want him to touch you beyond what was absolutely necessary, so how was he going to accomplish that exactly?
Gojo was a genius and had the IQ score to prove it, he’d be able to solve the problem once he was inside you, right?
Turning back to face you after retrieving the lube from his nightstand, Toru has to grab the base of his cock this time to keep from prematurely coming in the latex that was already starting to thicken with his precum.
There you were laid out like a slut—panties pulled to the side—fingering yourself a bit to loosen up, having reconsidered his suggestion of foreplay when the twitching on your thigh reminded you of how big he actually was.
“OH SHI—”
You notice his jaw hanging open, utterly entranced as his eyes follow the motions.
You knew you should be letting him do this to get the experience but honestly there was no sense in setting Gojo up for failure—delivering a significant blow to his ego when he inevitably couldn’t make you cum. You didn’t want to damage him even more if he felt it was his fault your pussy was apparently broken, you having tensed up completely every time a guy had tried before.
But you can’t deny you are getting some pleasure—if only through your own amusement—as you grab his cock and pump the lube he poured down his latex covered shaft, still fingering yourself—much to Gojo’s delight and wonder of seeing an actual real pussy up close.
Gojo sucks in air and groans pitifully as your hand spreads the cool gel over his length which only intensifies his ache to be inside of you.
“C’mere, Toru…”
You beckon sweetly, guiding him forward with your back against the pillows, you tease the crown of his tip through your folds preparing him for missionary.
Gojo nearly bites a chunk out of his lip when his thick cockhead finally catches over your slicked entrance and you’re left wincing.
“T-Toru, e-easy—o-ok? Not too deep...”
A breathy confirmation shudders out of Gojo as he’s easing himself into your warm tightening cunt. The stretch is immediate which mentally confirms for you he is also the girthiest you’ve ever had as well.
Your heels dig into his hips to brace yourself while he hovers over you, arms shaking.
“FUUUUUHHHH—”
Even with the rubber on, Gojo still thinks he might melt from how warm and tight you are—so much better than even his onahole with the custom grip and heating features.
Screwing his eyes shut, Gojo has to count backwards from a million, recite Japan’s national anthem, list the GDPs of the top 10 wealthiest countries—anything—or he will cum too soon or worse, crack and drive his hips until he’s all the way to the hilt from the way your dangerous lil’ pussy is sucking him in.
God, it felt like your slutty cunt had a mind of its own calling for him to push in a lil’ deeper, greedily begging for him to go a lil’ further but Gojo resists.
Sweat beads on his brow from the exerted effort of sheer willpower to keep his promise to you.
To Gojo’s credit, he really is doing his best, only a little less than a third but due to his length that's still a lot.
Your eyes wander up to Gojo’s face and away from where he is wholly splitting you open, lest you clench on him even tighter and you knew you needed to relax. Even if you weren't really feeling much but the overwhelming strain from the tight fit, looking at Gojo you were happy that he appeared to be in bliss at least.
His eyes still squeezed shut, mouth hanging open and spittle flowing down his jaw Gojo was in his own world as he continuously babbled nonsense about how perfect your cunt felt around him.
Just the tip in you for all of 20 seconds and already pussy drunk from just this much.
“B-Bunny, Oh SHHIII–B-Bunny—m’cute Bun—FAH-ACK s’gud—m’gonna cum soon UHH–pussy feels s’good—oh-oh my god!”
Although his entire body is quaking with pleasure, the few functional brain cells that survived the fiery blaze of your sinful lil’ pussy are still thinking of you.
Gojo tries to give some attention to your neglected lil’ clit, but a single swipe causes your leg to jerk and you promptly push his hand away again.
“N-NO! Pleaseee, m’too sensitive Toru! J-Just focus on your thrusts! Y-You’re s’close, m’can feel your cock twitching i-i-inside me...”
Gojo wants to challenge you on this—suspecting from the way your cunt felt constricting around him you felt something pleasurable then—but he’s too far gone and much too inexperienced to keep focused on anything else.
Especially when you are so explicitly describing him fucking you.
Grabbing his face you bring your foreheads to touch to help calm him so he’d last a bit longer. Although you still hold his face to prevent him from kissing you, he's close enough that you're sharing the same breath, now looking into each other's eyes.
He struggles to maintain eye contact though before the magnetism of your heated core had them rolling back again.
You're still not close to cumming, yet you are beginning to enjoy the warm comforting feeling of being this full as he holds you close, his short thrusts gaining momentum.
Sharing intimacy with someone you actually cared about for once is really nice and you wouldn't mind having more sex like this even if you couldn't cum.
Thumbing over Gojo’s moist lips you coo sweet praises to him as he desperately moans around your delicate appendage. Suckling your thumb between his lips and nursing on it until he can no longer contain the heavy breaths that overpower him and fan across your face.
Sharing the same exhaled breath is making you light headed and you mewl at the keen sensations it stirs in your pussy that has him full on gasping now. Gojo releases the whiniest moan as he falls into you, unable to support his arms any longer.
Showering your neck with open mouth kisses as his body curls more into yours.
However it all proves far too much when Gojo faltering more in his promise, slips more than halfway into your cunt—instantly filling the latex as it balloons inside of you as you scrape your heels against his back.
SHIIIIIT! He s’big!
Despite nearly splitting your poor pussy into two at the end though, Gojo did such a good job for his first time.
You’d forgive him just this once though as you wrapped your arms around his head, gently petting his undercut. His heaving breaths quiet under your soothing touches, finally ceasing the stream of his spit and tears that had been pooling in your collarbone.
Staying like that for a while holding him while his heartbeat calms to match yours and his length softens inside you. You close your eyes peacefully for a few moments before you hear your phone vibrate next to you.
It's Shoko!
Shoko’s text apologizes for the delays and offers to get dinner instead—promising to go shopping with you and Utahime tomorrow since they got held up and you make plans for dinner in two hours.
Perfect. That gives you plenty of time to clean up and get yourself presentable.
“Did you cum even a lil bit, Bunny?”
Oh sweet baby, if you have to ask…You think to yourself but it's not poor Toru’s fault your pussy is out of order.
“Um, no Toru baby—but you did so well! Ya know you’re actually pretty cute and considerate when you get a little pussy. I’m sure you’ll manage to make any girl you happen to get naked happy!”
Gojo counters you with a disappointed look still panting slightly as he pulls out and rolls over bringing you towards him to cuddle. Allowing him, reasoning that you don’t have to get up right this second.
Yoour back meets his chest and it’s then you notice the condom still inside you. Figures since it was much too small in the first place. Yet you couldn’t complain as it managed to do its job due to Satoru not going all the way in. Breathing out you grimace a bit as you still had to give it a pretty good tug to lodge the filled latex out of your sore cunt.
“Goddamn Toru, you were pretty backed up huh?”
Having witnessed the entire display from over your shoulder and the sight of the light blue rubber covered in your fluids while drooping heavily with his own has Gojo’s dick stirring again as you jiggle the rubber demonstrating its fullness before tossing it into the bin beside his bed.
Conflicted Gojo broods for a while as he hugs you to him.
While his body felt mostly satisfied, seeing you still unsatisfied put a huge damper on his mood.
Sure you had told him you couldn’t come—but would any girl cum without much foreplay or stimulation?
Even the darker hentais and JAVs he’s seen had more foreplay than this!
Hmmm...
Thinking over the experience again in his mind he had a hunch that if right could cure your lack of orgasms but needed you to let him fuck you once more to be sure.
“So you’re gonna hit and quit just like that, Bunny?”
He teases clinging onto you again when you try to maneuver out of his embrace.
“No time for more cuddles Toru—Shoko texted, we’re getting dinner in two hours.”
“Wait! Bunny! That’s so far away—Let me go again, pleeeease!”
Gojo is determined this time to make you cum for real! And, yeah you know—your slick heat sliding up and down his cock again would be a highlight too.
“Toru–”
“—Come on bunny! We solved my problem but we haven't fixed yours, you still haven't cum yet!”
“Toru, I thought we understood we were never going to solve my problem in the first place—so don't stress! Also I know this is probably the first time a girl has said this to you and actually meant it—but it's really not you!”
Gojo puts his negotiation face on.
You wanted to play hardball? Bet.
“I’ll give you my black card for a whole week!”
Gojo turns you around to look him in the eye so you could see how sincere he was, he really wanted to try again—he knew he could make you cum this time!
You sighed.
You couldn't really be mad at him—in fact, it was actually the cutest thing—that he wanted to keep trying for your benefit—but you didn’t see the point when it would just lead to the same result. You don’t even need to glance down to see Gojo’s cock was just as resolute as he’s already recovered and fully bricked—length pulsing against your ass.
Well—given his last performance you were sure he’d last all of five minutes and if you had his black card for a whole week you were about to tear the entire Hermes store up—a Birkin and a Kelly in every color!
Hell, maybe you could even get the coveted baby pink ostrich one.
“Mmm’kay, Toru—black card for a week! No limit!”
“Yup of course! Oooh no—Wait, no rubbers and I'll let you have my new g-wagon too! I hear raw sex is sooo much better you will cum for sure then Bunny!”
Well you knew a good bargain when you heard it.
Throwing the unopened condoms to the side you laid back down.
Imported European cars are stupid expensive to get in Japan and if he was coming off a g-wagon—especially as it was a custom powder blue matte with dune colored seats and shiny platinum rims—then he could have as many two-minute pump sessions as he wanted.
He’d likely pass out from dehydration in less than twenty tops anyway.
“Okay, but same rules as before except no cumming inside Toru! I mean it! It's too much of a mess to clean up after, it’ll be dripping all night especially all that you came last time…”
The thought of your gooey tender cunt weeping his nut for hours has Gojo’s balls tightening in want of making it a reality—but he knew if all went to plan you’d be begging for it!
First—he needed you to take a more active role this time. He saw you settled back onto the pillows and that simply wouldn’t do.
“Um Bunny, can you be on top? I-I’m dying to see what your cute tiddies look like jiggling all crazy like in my face.”
You cover your chest, frowning in offense at his more debauched ecchi preferences but you agreed nonetheless.
Relenting as it’d likely have him cumming sooner and then you could finally get ready to meet the girls—all in your new g-wagon, although you’d definitely have to make up a lie as to how you scammed it out of Gojo.
Gojo takes your place on the pillows, amused as now it’s his turn to beckon you forward. Steeling yourself, you embarked on your climb to mount him. Tall and lean with wisps of hair sticking to his face Gojo looked more like he belonged in a painting, unnerving you that a face only an artist could sculpt admired your body with his lustful gaze.
He was too sexy for his own nerdy ass good like this and you failed not to whimper when his strong hands settled at your waist.
Lube in your hand you smirk, gaining some confidence back when you hear Gojo hiss as the cool gel once again spreads down his fiendish girth that pulses restlessly at your touch. The sensation is all the more agonizing without the latex barrier hindering him as your, your silky smooth palm glided over his bare cock before tugging back the sensitive foreskin covering his crown head.
Licking your lips you almost want to bend down and taste the pre marbling like a pearlescent jewel on his pretty exposed cockhead.
He’d probably cry like a baby if you did, you mused with a grin.
Good God girl snap out of it!
You chastise yourself—no, you had to focus and end this quickly before you lost your mind. The idea of fucking Gojo beyond what he could buy for you started to get more appealing and you couldn’t allow that.
Readying yourself to mount him this time you realize your pussy is quivering in anticipation of the stretch—it was uncomfortable last time so—why was your body reacting this way?
Your own pussy betraying you as she seemed to yearn for the opportunity to gobble him up, taking him in with less resistance in spite of you. Flexing around the thick intrusion inside your core you shiver in feeling the curve of every vein on his girthy cock as you lowered yourself onto him.
The way your pussy flexed as a jolt of electricity ran through you scared you—a new sensation bubbling up inside, threatening to make you lose yourself in the feeling. Must be survival instincts you rationed—your cunt scared for its life never having encountered such an acute danger like Gojo’s dick before.
The burn was pleasurable this time, sucking in sharp breaths at every slight movement of him moving inside your core. Yet Gojo is in even more bliss—from the serpentine motion of your hips cascading over his own to how your your puffy pussy lips looked so wonderfully parted, stretched open around his cock—FUCK!
How was he going to complete his plan if his brain just started turning to mush everytime your dangerously succulent cunt grinded against him.
“O–ooo shiiiiiit!”
“Y-You okay, Bunny?”
Although Gojo himself looked like he was in agony his face was reddening from how good your raw gummy walls were surging around his length.
“Hhnng, fine Toru—y’er j-just big.”
Gravity was your natural enemy in this scenario and you took him a bit past halfway this time.
Wanting to distract you, his large hands grope your tits but you knock him away—your stomach fluttering.
“What's wrong, this time?”
“...s’n-nothing, it’s—just put your hands on my hips, it helps me so my legs don't get tired.”
You lied.
Well your legs were quivering but more pressingly your heart started to race and you didn't know if it was because a cock like this could actually relocate your uterus to your lungs or if you’d actually started catching something similar to romantic feelings for Gojo Satoru.
Either one was unacceptable in your book.
“Hurry up and cum, Toru!”
However Gojo is about to say something, your phone rings.
“I-Its Utahime…”
“Don’t answer Bunny! Focus or you’re never going to cum!”
“I can multitask, Toru! Besides, on the small chance I do I know it's definitely going to take longer than the two minutes you lasted before.”
Hushing Gojo’s protests and eyes flaring at him to be silent, you answer the call.
“Bunny!”
“Hime!”
You greeted each other with your usual peppiness—like Gojo wasn’t 6 and a half inches deep with 2 and half more to go—give or take—inside you.
“What’s up? Oh erm, what am I doing—”
A sly and haughty smile plays on his lips and you scowl at him.
“—I’m still at Gojo’s and no—I’m not doing much at all right now! Haha—yeah. I can definitely talk, of course!”
Gojo frowns as his eyes narrow and to placate him you start half heartedly rotating your hips.
You still looked sexy as hell though. Even with less effort expended it was still a workout as shown by the sheen of perspiration glowing off your body. That delectable sight combined with the light swaying of your tiddies was more than enough for him to cum if he just focused on himself.
But he was determined not to this time, not until you had.
“See Toru? They were helping Shoko’s parents!”
You stick out your tongue and he makes a face back at you.
“Oh what?—s’nothing—Ha! Well ok! He said you were too busy bumping pussies to go to the mall with me! Psh—typical am I rite? Huh—put you on speaker? LOL O-OKAY.”
Snitch!
Gojo mouths to you offended you’d rat him out like this as Utahime’s voice shrills through the phone.
“Satoru you loser! You have to talk about our pussies cause you could never have one of your own in a million years!”
Snorting with laughter Gojo is more than amused.
If only they knew.
You pale signaling at him to ‘STFU’ or he could finish himself off.
“Aww, is that so Utahime? I’m so hurt.”
The mischief in Gojo’s voice is obvious—he’s clearly mocking you.
Annoyed with him getting the upper hand and feeling sassy, you pile on—
“Exactly Hime! I mean he might get some—but a total otaku like him wouldn’t know what to do with a pussy if he even ever got in—EEP!”
A heavy handed smack comes down on your ass—hard.
The force ripples its way into your cunt causing you to feverishly tighten as your tongue pushes a low moan out between your lips.
“Oh ho ho—what's this? You actually like getting spanked huh, Bunny? You dirty, dirty girl…”
Gojo is whispering again before his hand once more swats at that same cheek.
The sting causes saliva to pool in the corners of your mouth.
If looks could kill Gojo would have died a horrible death—that is if you could focus enough to even glare at him. You’re absolutely mortified—too consumed by the spanks that fiercely rained down on your reddening bottom, your pussy getting shamelessly wetter with every hit.
“AH–FAHHH—”
“Bunny! What’s happened?!”
You hear Shoko’s concerned voice this time.
“N-N-Nothing, G-Gojo’s being mean to me cause I told on him! H-He pinched me so hard Shoko!”
“Liar!”
Gojo mouths again and his demeanor turns absolutely devilish.
Oh? So that's how you wanted to continue to play?
You were such a brat sometimes but then again so was he and his competitive nature soared at the challenge.
“Oh did I? Like this, Bunny?”
Gojo’s palms cup your tits roughly before he pinches them, twisting your nipples causing the slobber that collected to dribble down your chin and onto your chest.
“Shiiii—T-Toru! S-STOP YOU A-AHHH–SSHOLE!!”
The grip his thumb and forefingers have on your sensitive buds intensifies and you can barely keep the phone in your grasp as you hold it out arm extended to keep your cries from being heard.
With only one hand free there’s no way for you to worm nor pry his hands from your tits as you are still struggling not to sink lower and choke on your own tongue from the electrifying sensations assaulting your cunt.
This couldn’t be what it was like could it? This overwhelming feeling?
You didn’t want to admit it but as tear-inducing as the sensations were—they felt real fucking good.
Your hips began involuntary rocking as your core now craved how Gojo’s cock scraped against your walls like it was trying to carve itself even deeper inside you if you’d let your hips drop just a little bit lower.
“Toru! Stop picking on our Bunny! Don’t make us come over there and kick your ass!”
The sweat that now runs down Gojo’s brow threatens to blur his vision but he’s locked in and focused. The phone situation being so fucking raunchy combined with the way your pussy is creaming on him (despite you trying your hardest not to feel good) has him stressed.
Swallowing he had to try hard to keep up the act as well as please you without cumming—it would be a feat if he accomplished it to say the very least.
God, this was all so shamefully vulgar.
Did you do this on purpose answering the phone?
He didn’t even know this was a kink of his—or yours apparently.
But your “problem” was now clear to Gojo:
It’s not that you couldn’t cum, it’s just that you were scared to cum.
Any real stimulation triggered your fight or flight.
You were perfectly capable, you just needed a bit of forcefulness—however the effect of it terrified you and you bolted from it every time you had sex with someone—until now.
Heh, there would be no more running from the nut for his little bunny rabbit.
Gojo wonders how far into his ecchi depravity he can take you.
“Your Bunny, huh?”
Gojo's eyes squinted as if he could stare down Shoko and Utahime through the phone.
You were his.
He was the one who was going to make you cum and frankly he didn’t give a fuck anymore if Shoko or Utahime heard it—in fact he wanted them too.
Planting his feet into the bed, Gojo’s form shifts as he swiftly grips your waist simultaneously bringing you down while driving his pelvis up—pummeling his entire length into your guts. The prickly patch of groomed hair at his base tickles your poor abused lil’ clit which had been forcibly nestled into them—the result of being smashed against his pubic bone.
“FUHCCCK—MUTHERFUHH—SHHHH–HIIIIIT!!!”
Vision momentarily blacked out and burning with tears mixed with your running mascara, your pussy still reeling from the sheer magnitude of Gojos long girthly length now all the way sheathed and practically tearing through your womb. Your eyes are firmly lodged in the back of your head, the electrifying vibrations cause you to drop the phone entirely. Your world is spinning from experiencing your first small orgasm that only increased intensity as your efforts to escape Gojo are in vain.
Your cervix is screaming at the probing intrusion of his bulbous tip ramming so far up into you but Gojo has you anchored to him unable to flee from his onslaught of thrusts.
If you could string together a coherent thought you would have wondered if in fact your stomach had been relocated next to your lungs as you felt so full you couldn’t breathe.
Your pussy violently spasms around his girth, creamy fluids seeping down onto his base from your cunt sloshing around him. Gojo grips your cheeks spreading you wider increasing the squelching noises echoing from your cunt.
Shit though, Gojo thinks your perfect pussy might actually break his dick off from how fervently you were clenching him.
Tongue fully lolled out of your mouth, you’re grasping onto Gojo’s shoulders for stability as your saliva drips down his pectorals.
“BUNNY!! Are you still there?? What’s that noise?”
Shoko and Utahime’s calls for you go unanswered. Gojo on the other hand is grinning, albeit through gritted teeth, pleased at how his long trunk-like cock is rendering you nonverbal.
“Hehe, you definitely came a bit that time didn’t ya—ya nasty lil’ Bunny, don’t lie.”
“N-N-Nooo T-Toru–s’like I-I c-can’t breathe—”
“Heh, a’course you can baby Bun—that's what it feels like when you cum, even I know that.”
SMACK!
Another firm smack to your ass has your cunt quivering wildly.
You feel like the virgin in this situation now—and honestly—are you not?
Did those other dicks really count?
It felt like you were having sex for the first time as this was a totally different experience even from the earlier round with Gojo.
“Don’t worry though, now that I know what kinda shit you’re into—I’mma take care of that pervy lil’ princess pussy sooo good, Bunny.”
Oh god—That couldn’t be true could it?
Spanking? Nipple twisting? Having your insides pushed up to your throat?
You didn’t actually like this kinda freaky shit did you?
Yet your body’s reactions remain true even if your mind doesn't want to accept the cause of the fire that is burning within you. Your pussy is in raptures at the feeling of being molded into the exact shape of Gojo’s cock—veins and all.
“HELLLOOOOO BUNNY!!!!”
Absolutely pleased with himself Gojo retrieves the phone.
“Awe p-poor thing, just stubbed her toe runnin’ from me. My—SHIII–room is—FUHHH—k-kinda a m-mess—S-See? I almost tripped just now too. Isn’t that right Bunny?”
Gojo brings the phone closer and you bat it away wishing he would just hang up and spare you the humiliation. Although humiliation seemed to be your new kink as mirroring his earlier actions as you’re pathetically moaning into his skin. Gojo’s masculine scent, mingled with the salty aroma of perspiration, floods your senses, making you feel even more lightheaded, increasing the sloshing of his cock buried deep in your cunt.
The crude noises that rang from your bodies squelching and slapping against each other renders Gojo unable to keep up the charade either. Making up a quick excuse—he has to go get ice for your toe—he quickly hangs up on Shoko and Utahime whose puzzled protests of concern he couldn’t give a single fuck about anymore.
God fucking you while on the phone with them was so fucking hot, he’d have to get you to do it again—maybe with Suguru next time, he’d probably even be into it.
“Hey B-Bunny—y-you think Shoko and Hime were naked too?”
You groan.
This fucking hentai otaku perv—you already told him that they were helping Shoko’s parents!
You want to glare, scream, chastise, get up—but you can’t—you’re at the mercy of him ruthlessly drilling up into your cunt and can only heave out tired mewls in reply.
“Fuuuck–imma cum again soon! Do you feel the way your naughty lil’ cunt is squeezing like she wants to wring me dry, wan’t me to give it all to your pussy Bunny?”
“N-Not i-inside m’pussy, T-Toru!”
A devious smirk appears.
Heh, yeah he promised not inside your pussy.
Without warning Gojo rips his cock out from your sopping core and manhandles you onto your back. Thinking he will simply cum outside somewhere you're finally able to breathe again and you exhale—only to feel his monstrous length being shoved down your throat.
Your eyes shoot open.
Greeted with the image of Gojo's heavy balls in your face, his ball hairs tickle your nose as you gag around his girth straining your throat open wide. You think if he didn’t reach your lungs through your guts he certainly would now that he’s eight and a half inches down your esophagus.
“You said i couldn’t cum in your pussy Bunny, so let’s use that pretty lil’ mouth pussy instead—sweet fuck, ya know she’s almost tighter than your actual cunt.”
Your hands fly to the outside of his thighs pawing over the sweat glossed skin as you drag your nails down them, leaving welts in an effort to get him to ease up. The potent musk of your shared lust that had dripped down his balls was now rubbing on your face assaulting your senses.
It was fucking nasty, so gross and yet your own pussy betrayed you—burning with an ache to be filled again at the smells that stimulated your own primal hedonistic urges.
“Awe, don’t be like that. I know you like it rough, yeah? I haven’t forgotten about you either baby.”
Gojo of course at this point isn’t talking to you but your cunt.
With one hand squeezing your already constricted airway, Gojo’s other snaked its way over your body and reeling it back before delivering a mean open palmed slap to your clit.
The sound of your soaked cunt echoed through his room and he almost came from that alone as your fluids trickled out of you faster, further soiling his expensive sheets.
“This pussy likes being spanked more than those cherry cheeks of yours huh, Bunny? I know my filthy hentai pussy does.”
You’re obviously unable to answer but the way you’re gurgling moans around his cock lets him know this is exactly what you like. Thrusting two thick fingers into your quivering core his burly appendages bullied themselves in as far as they could go.
“You know—G-God, FUCK you’re tight—Bunny, you know I read in an h-manga how girls can squirt from a lack of air and a little bit of prodding, s’ppose—S-SHIII—t’be something in here that sends em absolutely wild.”
Fingers searching deeper it's not until Gojo pulls back to add a third that he scrapes past a firm spongy spot that has your legs buckling.
Astonished by the amazingly sexy reactions of your body—Gojo’s eyes are blown out wide over how much your clit swells, your hole twitches and your juices spurt out of you as your tears run over your cheeks to wet his balls further. Gojo doesn’t even need to thrust as your throat tightens around him like crazy with him jamming his fingers into that particular spot over and over.
Lost in your own ecstasy you’re proven wrong as contrary to your belief you thought his otaku sex-ed would be to his detriment to his skills. However it's exactly because of all of the lecherous and depraved shit he collected and consumed did he know exactly what to do to you now that got you all messed up. Eyes lodged into your skull, squirting and practically blacking out with his dick stuffed down your throat on his long dexterous fingers abusing your cunt.
“SHIIIIIIT—”
With a keen grunt Gojo cums, pumping loads of viscous fluid down your throat forcing you to gorge on his thick cum.
“F-Fuck Bunny are you a throat goat? M-Milked me dry...”
He’s still driving his pliable fingers in and out of you, his arms are shaking from his own orgasm but he doesn’t care. Nothing on earth could stop him from replicating the beautiful sight of your pretty lil’pussy spurting out juices that run all the way down his forearm.
“…heh, looks like I can milk you too, Bunny.”
Gojo finally dislodges his dick out of your throat but still runs a hand through your pussy folds to rub soothing circles on your clit. You whimper through your coughs as you spit up some of his cum, still gagging after what were mere minutes but seemed like hours of choking on his beefy cock.
Vision spotty, tremors run through your body—both ends so thoroughly fucked out—that it doesn’t register that Gojo is once again lifting your body bringing you towards the edge of the bed.
If you thought Gojo was going to give you aftercare from having used your body like one of his anime fleshlights, you’d be correct—but not before one last round.
Lifting your hips off his luxe bed Gojo positions your wobbly legs on his shoulders. His eyes are blown out and crazed with his own twisted perversion. Weakened and spent himself as cock twitched from overstimulation but he’s never been a quitter—determined to make you cum again and again before one of you finally passes out.
Your toes wiggle and you keen as his tongue ravenously dips between your toes. Trailing his tongue past the arch of your foot to bite your heel.
“You’re so fucking sexy, Bunny—the best pussy in the whole world, how could you ever think she was broken? You were just waiting for me to use her huh?”
“S-shut up–Toru, j-jeez…”
Your windpipes had been fucked raw and you’re croaking which to your dismay only seems to turn Gojo on more and he’s tapping his tender engorged cockehead on your clit. Your brows pinch together as you bite back moans from his frenulum catching and chafing so wonderfully over your clitoral hood.
“Puhleaseeee, Honey Bunny! Let me fuck you a bit more now that we know you are as ecchi coded as I am, m’kay my pervy princess?”
The very thought shames you and you think your heart might seize from embarrassment if it doesn’t give out from pleasure first and your heart feels like it might beat out of your chest chest from all the pet names Gojo is bestowing upon you.
“Toru…”
You try to reason with him through your defeated huffs as you press your legs shut together.
“...y-you made me cum from your fingers n’ your cock.. Y-You won. Pleaseee—I-I don’t even think I can cum any more.”
Not convinced Gojo pushes your legs back.
“Oh, is that right? Let’s ask her then!”
Gojo delivers another smack onto your slippery pussy as if on the command of her new owner your obedient cunt immediately leaks a bit more creamy slick onto his palm.
“See, baby? She says you can though and that she’s tired of you running from it Bunny—”
Still hugging your legs together in his grasp, Gojo lowers himself to rub his cheek against your pussy like it was his favorite pillow.
“Don’t fret my pervy lil’ pussy I won't let Bunny deprive you any longer from what you really need.”
You groan yet Gojo is more gentle this time as he gingerly rolls you onto your belly and lifts your hips to slide his giant Agumon pillow underneath.
Urgh, did it have to be this one!?
There's no time for complaints though once Gojo spreads your cheeks wide. A glob of spit hits your crack as his thumb prods against your shy puckering rear hole while he humps his cock between the fat of your thighs through your soggy swollen folds.
“Shiiit imma fuck this tight lil’ bunny hole next time baby, m’kay?”
The threat causes you to shudder yet all your back talk and sass is gone from his illicit preparations as he elicits heady mewls from your hoarse throat. Your cunt flutters eagerly to have him fill you again as his fingers imprint themselves into your bottom.
The anticipation is so intense as bracing for his size ripping through you you nearly fail to notice Gojo is now humming to himself—humming—THE DIGIMON CHAMPIONS THEME SONG!?
OH HE HAD YOU ALL THE WAY FUC—
—And suddenly you’re screaming again, eyes glued to the back of your skull as his hips jerk forward, drilling his dick past your walls to pound directly into your cervix with the tempo of a madman.
OH FUCK! …s’good!
You finally surrender letting your cunt control your brain as you throw ass back to meet his frenzied thrusts. Like a drug addict from the first real taste your pussy is already addicted to the feeling of his cock destroying you.
“S’toru–S’toru–S’toru–FUHHHHCK!”
His name fell from your lips like a mantra, the only word your brain—now thoroughly fucked smoothed—could remember.
The sight of you chasing your own pleasure as your ass slammed back onto his pelvis, your skin rippling as it bounced and splashed frothy fluids onto his abs sent him further into perverse degeneracy.
“F-Fuck Bunny—baby, this pussy too good—We can’t tell Suguru for a while, kay? He’ll want to fuck you too and this pussy is just f’me. Suguru gets all the pussy s’tell me you’ll keep yours f’er me. Thought you were broken but you just needed my cock this whole time—”
Burying your face in the sheets bashfully at the mention of Suguru, your cunt pulls more taut around Gojo’s cock.
“—FUHH, g-go out with me yeah, Bunny? Love you s’much—SHIIIIT—buy you whatever you want—t-take you where you want—this dick s’yours Bun Bun—all yours!”
Plunging into deeper if it were even possible Gojo’s blunted nails drug into the fat of your ass and hips, it wouldn’t scar but it would certainly add to the inevitable bruising.
“I’ll never even look at a non 2D woman again as long as I have you as my lil’ onahole—shit I’ll never even buy one of those again unless it's in the shape of your pussy—F-FUCK, w-wait–y-you think we could get one made in the shape of your pussy–my girlfriend’s perfect pussy?!”
It’s too much—too overwhelming and your mind is slowly but surely being corrupted by Gojo. Otherwise the image of him whining while fucking a onahole casted from your cunt as he watches you finger yourself would have never in a million years popped into your mind.
Determined to see you unhinged in every respect, Gojo didn’t want to deny you pleasure but if he had to be a little mean to you so you could finally be honest with him then so be it.
Slowly pulling out, your expression is near frantic as you look back at him. Your mouth gaping and babbling nonsensically for him not for him to stop—you were so close.
Gojo simpers, relishing in your cute cockdrunk face scrunched with confusion from him pulling out so suddenly.
“W-Words baby, c’mon I just spilled my heart out here!”
Your pussy weeps longingly for Gojo’s cock as your body shakes with a yearning begging to be filled again.
God help you, you want him.
You want him and his sinfully curved demon dick badly, it’s all you could think about—Not even remembering what life was like before he so perversely rearranged your guts. However, not only did he know how to hit all your spots, he knew you—and despite him completely disregarding all of the rules you had initially set, he was the first guy who actually cared about how you felt during sex, even if he was a perverted otaku.
There was simply no use in denying it any longer.
You caved.
Tears streaming down your face as you hiccupped your admission of affections for him, red-faced and flustered.
“S’toru, I-I’ll be your girlfriend—need you n’need your cock s’much—”
Pressing the side of your face against the mattress you bring a shaky hand through your legs, fingers slipping over your slick as you part your pussy lips—your vacant core exposed and fluttering, begging for him just as hard.
“—m’also you’re onahole T-Toru, I promise i’ll only fuck you, j-just please keep fucking me, i wanna cum on your cock, want your cum in me Toru baby!”
You might die from the shame of it all once you sober up from being utterly cockdrunk and stupefied but all you could think about right now was Gojo’s hard dick laying heavy pipe back into your cunt.
Something snaps in Gojo.
Head over heels for you now, Gojo knew from that moment on he’d never let you go.
Real or 2D—no could compare to you in Gojo’s eyes.
Toru finally found something he loved more than digimon—your perfect lil’pussy.
And he was going to show her how much he loved her right now.
Taking what was so graciously presented to him this time around, you’re short circuiting once he’s finally inside you again your most base needs being satiated turning you into a cockfiendish whore crying for him to fuck you harder as you grip his sheets like you could rip them apart.
His strokes become more merciless, unrelenting on your pussy and Gojo leans his weight onto your back, legs bent crouching on top of you, his hips becoming manic they thrashed forward in short heavy thrusts to hammer you into the mattress.
Gojo himself is beyond gone.
Disregarding all promises of mentioning otaku shit while he was wrecking your cunt.
“Fuck bunny this feels better then what I thought Agnewomon’s pussy would be like— you'd look so sexy in that cosplay. Gonna have you dress up for me and show you off at cons. I’ll buy you whatever you want, anything, the whole fucking world yeah? Just fuck—wear those those vibrating panties while you cosplay too, you’d like that?”
You tightened groaning at his debauchery, something that was not missed at all by Gojo who by this point had fucked his own self dumb in your angelic cunt. White strands of his hair stuck to both of your faces as he tiled your head back so he could see how desperately those little hearts danced in your dilated pupils before they were reduced to nothing more than mere splotches whiting out your vision.
“Fuck u really are a slut huh bunny? Tightening at the thought of all those otaku perverts looking at you in that skimpy outfit while I control the buzzing on that lil clit. But they can’t have you—m’the only otaku pervert that knows how to make you cum!”
Delirious with melodic honeyed cries spilling from you, you just wanted him to stop talking—pointing out every single time your body responded to his ecchi tastes becoming your tastes and now just yearning for a taste of him.
Reaching back you’re pulling him down to smash your lips together. Messy, but you could care as Gojo tried to swallow your tongue fucking his own into your mouth with a force that matched his cock. If fucking you was heaven then kissing you was nirvana—he’d give you the whole world if he could keep fucking you like this forever.
Gojo needs you to cum again soon as the feral need breed your tummy until it swells with his seed has him losing the little sanity he even had to begin with. A virgin until today he’d saved up so much waiting for your tight cunt this whole time.
Moving his lips away from yours only for air, your chest heaves harmonies cries from his hand weaving under your bodies. Jittery fingers swiped frantically over your clit, hurling you towards your euphoric climax as his lips descend back upon yours.
“Cum Bunny—I got ya baby.”
Deliberately plowing himself harder against your cervix, your body seizes up releasing tension into pure white energy that you swore was pumping through your every vein as an extension of your pussy as his heavy load spurts to paint your walls and sear your insides as his thrusts continue to swill his seed inside you, pushing it further into your womb—-thank fuck for birth control.
However that was the last thing you remember before you go limp, temporarily blacked out as you swear you’ve transcended to a celestial plane of existence. One where all slutted out souls went to escape from the unearthly pleasure they’ve been tortured by. You don’t know how long you’ve been out but you're squirming as you come back to consciousness. Realizing your now back on your back as your hips involuntarily rocking against something thick and wet.
When you finally manage to open your eyes you're greeted by Gojo tongue slurping at your clit and lapping up the cum oozing out of your battered hole like it was a refreshingly creamy bowl of kakigori. His hands embedded themselves into your thighs pinning them to the bed nibbling on your clit and having your already overstimulated core climaxing on his tongue once more.
Strings of your sticky nectar connect his tongue to your cunt as he looks up at you. Having the audacity to grin lovingly at you as if he didn’t look like a downright starved and deranged man with a sheen of shared fluids dribbling down his chin. He’s pussy drunk once again this time buzzed off the pungent yet sweet taste of his cum marinating in your creamy tenderized cunt.
Gojo is cheesin’ at you like he’s found his favorite spot in the world—and he had as far as he was concerned.
“You said it was too messy, remember Bunny? The least I can do to make it up to you is scoop every drop out of your runny lil’ cunt with my tongue! What kind of boyfriend would I be to have all this cum soaking my Bunny’s slutty little thong and spilling down her thighs while out to dinner—so I decided to have mine a little early.”
FUCKING HELL—DINNER! What time was it?!
Disordented, your head is fuzzy and you could feel the soreness settling in your muscles. You didn’t think you’d be able to get out of this bed in the next 24 hours, let alone make it to dinner—if you hadn’t already missed it!
“Nnnn, n-not like I can go anymore Toru, s’all your f-fault!”
Your bruised lips poke out into pout. Gojo chuckles at you how cute you look and he rises up from between your thick thighs to boop you on the nose as he gazes adoringly at you.
But your eyes widened as you were now fully worried.
Worried as to what the fuck Gojo actually texted them!
“T-Toru—”
“—I just told them you weren’t feeling well, was that okay?”
Quickly assuaging your fears—you can relax a bit for now (although you were sure you’d have a lot of explaining to do later) as Gojo pulls you to him again and softly kisses your neck, hands returning to your ass to rub soothing circles on your chaffed skin.
Relaxing again floods sleep into your eyes. A welcome godsend honestly, so you can process everything that just happened, especially Gojo aggressively fucking a love confession out of you.
“And m’sorry if I got carried away Bun… but you were so good for me, so fucking perfect! Just relax and I’ll take care of you! I’ll handle everything—for you and your nasty lil’ cunt. I love you both and I’ll keep both my pretty girls happy forever! I promise!”
Gazing at you with cartoonishly sparkling eyes, you have to look away from Gojo lest your ears altogether burn up in embarrassment from his shameless and yet a hundred percent earnest vocalization of affections that somehow still got your heart racing.
“—oh and my parents will be here tomorrow—we can tell them right? They will be so excited! They've been telling me since I was little I shouldn’t let you get away! Ooo! Ooo! Maybe now that we're dating they’ll let us use their sex dungeon! We need to think of a safe word though Bunny—”
Scarcely comprehending anything he is saying to you, your mind like your pussy had been fully liquified. Both ruthlessly corrupted by Gojo’s long otaku cock and pervy ass fantasies which is no surprise seeing as his family even owns a—
HOL’ THE ENTIRE FUCKUP—A SEX DUNGEON!?
Like a shot of caffeine directly into your veins your eyes nearly pop out of your head as you blink at him dumbfounded, mouth hanging open.
“Doesn’t that sound fun, Bunny!? My parents are so cool! When I turned 18 my dad even gave me some of his rare and one-of-a-king hentai figures for my collection to get me started and then—”
Tuning him out you’re gagged at the unexpected revelations—and his parents always seemed like such charming n’ decent God fearing people too. Well known to be ruthless in the business world, but upstanding global philanthropists nonetheless.
Well the apple sure as hell didn’t fall too far from the sordid sex fiend tree, that was for damn sure!
Clearly you had no idea what you were getting yourself into or had unleashed by agreeing to be Gojo’s girlfriend. I mean, could no longer deny your growing feelings for him—plus he did just give you multiple back-breaking-terrifyingly-mind-numbing-earth-shattering-orgasms. Not to mention, you would definitely be getting one of every Hermes bag ever made if you wanted one—but at what cost?
Your Dignity?
Self-respect?
The right to call yourself a functional and contributing non-degenerate member of society?
Who knows really…
Although perhaps dating a Gojo, the next heir at that, you’d be too rich and highly regarded for people to even care (we’ll except for your friends giving y’all hell but you could eventually make peace with that).
You internally groan as the gentle touches on your bottom morph into lustful gropes and you know your brand new boyfriend would not be granting rest for your totally demolished lil’ pussy anytime soon unless you could distract him a bit.
“—Toru, Toru baby listen, please.”
Interrupting him, you muster the energy to put on the sweetest face you can manage in your exhausted state.
And of course, Gojo, as always and yet unknowingly, tests the limits of your tolerance.
“Yes, my whittle Bunny, my kinky baby girl—hentai goddess divine?”
Gojo nuzzles your nose in an eskimo kiss as he showers you with ‘loving compliments’.
Scrunching your face, you grit your teeth through your already weak smile to stop yourself from losing it at him referring to you as ‘hentai goddess divine’—y’all would definitely be having a talk about that as well as appropriate in-public pet names later though.
“Babyyyyy—I’m so sticky and sore, why don’t you be a good boyfriend and get stuff ready for us to take a bath, hm? Maybe find me something else to wear too, hm?”
You did need a bath and you calculated even with his energetic disposition it should take him at least 15-20 minutes to delegate the tasks and get everything together considering how huge his mansion was.
“Oh! Of course, of course! Just wait here! I’ll be right back, my ecchi angel.”
Brow-twitching you sit up to wave at him with another strained smile as he scrambles to put on pants and heads out of his room.
You sigh tiredly and make yourself comfy on his cloud like pillows.
Thinking he’s finally left and you can savor some much needed time to make peace with what you got yourself into by agreeing to be the girlfriend of an otaku nerd like Gojo Satoru—
—when his head suddenly peaks back in the room with a sheepish look on his face.
“Heh, you know Bunny, was thinking—you really didn’t think I could code crack your cute lil’ cunt now did ya?”
Your eyes are closed but your fists are balling angrily gripping onto the pillows surrounding you.
“Don’t worry Bunny, yours is the only pussy my dick is digidestined for!”
With that, Gojo narrowly avoids the Agumon pillow plushie that is swiftly hurled at his head as he dashes away from the door, his merry yet hysterical laughter echoing through the halls.
⏭ a/n: this fic was wayyyy too long but i've been kinda mean to y'all gojo glazers lately rejoicing in your sorrows cause you are now miserable like the rest of us lmfao, so consider this y'alls bone :P tbh im kinda surprised this is the first full gojo fic i've written lol, it was fun tho cause otaku!gojo is a freak for pussy would drive you insane in all the right and wrong ways. i still have invisible man gojo and ceo/professor gojo planned tho (plus that frat boy satosugu request).
Make you feel good?ᝰ.ᐟ✮⋆˙──────────────────────────
Mr. Crawling X Fem reader
Smut cuz I want this man. Oral(reader receiving), fingering, praising, messy sex bro it's just super goofy, Mr. Crawling has a cold body so everything about him is cold, unprotected sex, PiV, I like to think he's super loud in bed, he has a long black tounge here, And I believe that's all for now :)
I played the game and omg I'm literally so obsessed over him like omg omg I love him sm
You were stressed. Tensed up.
And Mr Crawling saw this. But you'd always give him a smile whenever he asked if you were okay, if you had any pains. You were in bed, the curtains pulled as Mr. Crawling was on the floor behind them.
You had told him you just wanted some privacy for a bit. He was confused but he smiled at you. You smiled back at him and pulled the curtains. At first it was quiet. Maybe you just needed to rest a bit in private. He would have left if you asked him but that's okay. He heard some small shuffling and weird sounds. You were making sounds. You usually make these sounds when you have these ‘ scary dreams’, as you call them.
“Just wake me up when you hear me screaming or making sounds.” You told him once. You weren't exactly screaming but you were making weird sounds. He goes up to the bed as he peaks through the curtains and he sees you. You weren't wearing any clothes. Aren't you cold? You usually say you get cold when you don't have clothes on. The sheet wasn't even on you.
You were making weird sounds, your hand down between your legs as the other hand was cupping your breast. He keeps watching you. He's curious as to what you are doing. You were Whimpering, biting your lip, eyes, clothes as your head was thrown back. Your hand was rubbing small circles, your feet were curled, you were sweating as well. “Ah- Oh my-” You were so lost in your own pleasure you didn't even feel the bed Move a bit. You thought it was just you. You were so close. So so close. And then you hear Mr Crawling. you open your eyes and scream as you grab the sheets. “W-What are you doing here?! I-” he grabs on to the sheets and pulls them. He giggles as he looks down at your body. His hands go to your stomach, making you jump.
He's so cold!
Goosebumps all over your body. You look at him and let him continue. His hands move slowly up to your chest and you moan. His cold hands feel so nice on your warm body. “You Feel…good?” He asks and you nod. “Yes.” You say. He giggles and brushes his thumb over your nipple. You moaned and felt his other hand rub up and down on your thigh. You open your legs a bit more and try to move your hips to his hand. You wanted him to touch where you wanted him to. You whine as you grab his hand and move the tip of his fingers to your clit. You moved them in small circles. Fuck, he's so cold but it feels good.
He watches you as you move his hand to your wet slicks. He smiles and looks at your face. You looked like you were feeling good. No pain. Good. Pleasure. He starts to move his fingers by himself and you move your hand to cup your breast. “Good?” He asks again and you simply reply With a moan. He will simply take that as a yes. And as he watched your body move under him, he felt weird too. A good weird. He grins and moved hus fingers down to where was even more wet. You gasp at his cold touch and look at him. “Mr. Crawling- wait- um.” He stopped and tilts His head to the side. “Me make you feel good?” He asks and you nod. “Just, one.” You say as you hold a finger up. You grab his hand and show him. “One.” You say.
“One.” He repeats with you, just in his own language. He looks down and allows your hand to show him. You moved his long finger inside of you, causing you to gasp. Jesus, his fingers are so long. And honestly, his cold touch makes it feel even better. “Out.” You say as you move his hand out. “In.” And push it back in. You keep repeating as you whimper.
He moved his hand by himself, understanding now. He looks at you and sees your face. You had this expression on you that was just pure bliss. An expression he has never seen from you. He wants to see it more. He looks down at your wet cunt, covering His finger with your own cream. He starts to move faster, making you moan louder. “Ah- Yes, so good, good!” You moan as you hold on to his shoulder. He tilts his head and grins. He wonders… how would you taste? Sweet? sour? disgusting? No, you would never taste like that. You'd probably taste amazing. Just the thought of that made him lick his lips. He goes between your legs and lifts them up, putting them on his shoulder. “Wait! What are you doing?” You ask surprised and see his face closer to your dripping cunt. What would you smell like? He obviously knows you smell nice, but he needs to smell you better, closer. He needs you close to him. He needs to be inside you.
Sniff. Sniff. Sniff.
“Are you smelling me?” You ask, a bit creeped out. He looks at you and nods. “Good.” He says as he continues to smell. Oh, you smell amazing. You smell so good. You see him open his mouth and feel something cold and wet go between your folds that caused you to jump. He stopped as stood there. He grins and He grabs your hips. He hurriedly brings them closer To his face. You yelped and moaned as you felt his tongue lick your clit. “Y-Yeah, t-there. You're doing go- ah oh, you're doing good.” You moan as you move your hips. Mr. Crawling whimpers as he keeps licking your. Your praises had him feeling weird, weak, not a bad way. A good way. A good type of feeling that he wants to hear and feel more. His long tongue swirls around your small bud. He looks down at your aching hole and pushes his tongue, causing you to yelp once Again.
He seriously likes surprising you a lot.
You run your hands through his hair. Hearing him whimper just meant he liked your hands on his hair, so you kept going through his long black hair. You move your hips up and down, trying to reach your High, you need to. Fuck, all these random jump scares and random events. It just made you so stressed up. How long has it been since you've ever even felt this good?
Your ex couldn't even go down on you and Mr. Crawling is here, eating you up as if you were his first meal in years. You felt so loved and wanted with him. Because with him, he made you feel wanted. He Makes you feel good. He makes you feel so loved. You hold his hand and lock fingers with him as you throw your head back. You're close, so fucking close. You moan and gently tug at his hair, your thighs Starting to close. But he keeps them apart with only one of his arms. “I'm close! I'm so close!” You whine as you rub yourself into his nose, coming on his tounge. He's panting like a dog, droll and your juices dripping down from his chin onto the bed sheets. He pulled away and looked at you, who was panting.
“You, use me.” He says. You looked at him puzzled as he got on the bed and moved his head down. You looked down and saw a very obvious huge tent under his black gown. Oh god. “Please.” He says as he lifts up the gown to reveal his long cock, it twitches as precum drips out from The angry mushroom tip.
ᝰ.ᐟ✮⋆˙──
Honestly you don't even know who is loud right now. You or him. He's moaning and Whimpering so loud, it just turns you on way more. You were on top of him, your legs open as you squat down on his cock, your hand on his chest to support yourself. He was moaning as his hands moved to your hips to try and help you more. His own hips moving up from time to time to feel you and be deeper inside of you.
you look down to see how your pussy would sink into his cock. God, he felt so good, he was making you feel good. You have to let him know, you already know how much he adores to be praised by you. “Good- ah! So good! You- good!” You moan as you feel his wet cock go in and out of you. And suddenly you feel something cold and goopy. You looked at him and said, “you came?”
But all he does is hold your hips and move his own on to yours. His moans became louder. It was messy. So goopy. You could hear the squish sounds that came every time you sank in, your skins slapping with the wet sounds. Honestly, it turned you on way more. You moved one of his hands to your breast that wanted attention just as much as your hips wanted them. He holds them and plays with your nipples, his long tongue swirling around them as he whimpers and moans. Your nipples got even harder as you felt his cold tongue.
You couldn't think anymore, your eyes rolling back as the tip of his cock hit your g-spot. Your legs give up in even trying. But he didn't give up, he grabbed your ass as he held and moved his hips upwards, faster and much harder. You scream as your eyes roll back even more. The bottom of his cock was covered with your cream. “T-There! Like that!” You yelled and he continued, not changing his pace. You hold tightly to his shirt as he holds the flesh Of your ass tightly, Whimpering and groaning as his cock keeps going in and out of your pussy.
Without even saying anything, you cum On his cock, soon feeling his cold cum shooting inside of you again. You whimper and whine at every touch, panting as you try to catch your breath.
Mr. Crawling lets you lay down on the bed and looks at you. “You, you feel good.” He says. “I want more.” He says as he spreads your legs open to reveal his own cum and your juices spilling out of you.
“More.” He says.
You smiled And nodded. “More.”
Mr. Gap heard and saw it all lol.
Hey @caotictimmy , I expect those feet in 3 to 5 business days.
Synopsis ﹐ You and James Sunderland are at Lakeview Hotel, planning to stay the night when he unlocks a key memory.
content ﹐Rated R (MDNI), SPOILERS! darkfic, smut, angst, non-con, pwp, descriptive/smut sex, somno, grinding, fingering, squirting, rough sex, p n v sex, james sunderland x fem!reader
╰╮wc 3.3k
Mary was a bright, sweet woman. Illness plagued her body when she was young and died 3 years ago from what you’ve heard. Apparently this “Maria” looked exactly like her, but where was she? You’ve heard so much about Mary this Mary that, that you knew James really did love her; For that reason he and you are at their special place, hotel room 312 looking outside of the illuminated Toluca Lake.
“James,” The name rolls sweetly off your tongue admiring the lakeside view. “It’s beautiful here..”
The cool moonlight hits your skin, reflecting you off the window. You’re wearing a white frilly sundress with spaghetti straps. As soon as you came off of work a few days ago, you took a trip to West Virginia with your bags packed heading to the homey-tourist-attraction; Silent Hill.
James was seeing something completely different. You turned around getting a glimpse to check on him, he previously placed a cassette tape into the TV that the room provided but it was just static. He was engulfed in what he was watching though. You chose to let him be in his thoughts and focus on yours.
As you recall, many strange things have been occurring ever since you came. While following James around, a little girl by the name of Laura tagged along with the two of you. She too was fond of Mary, however not so much of you. All you could remember was the girl's words that she exchanged with you in private while at the bowling alley.
“–James would never replace Mary!” She exclaimed clearly upset, her eyes welled up with tears ready to spill.
“I’m his friend,” You reply quietly trying to give the young girl reassurance. You watch her hold back from crying, feeling guilty. “Nothing will happen between us, everything that I’m doing right now is for her.”
“Rea-lly?” Laura asked, stifling through her words, rubbing her eyes with her hands.
“Really”
If only that were true. You wonder to yourself what the hell you were doing alone with a man in a hotel room during the dark. You really can’t pretend that you weren’t attracted to James. Ever since you’ve met him at the gazebo after wandering in the town for what seemed like hours, you’ve become “travel” buddies.
You choose to snap out of it, turning your attention towards James. He was on the armchair, slouched forward. He looked as if all life had been erased from him. Melancholy, miserable, you felt the feeling emanate with the void of silence.
“James?” You call out, taking a step closer to him on his right side.
“Mary’s,” James muttered with a pause. You pay close attention to what he’s trying to say. “Mary’s gone.”
You stand in silence, watching as James takes time to reflect on himself. You follow his eyes to see that he’s looking at the bed behind him tucked away in the corner with the night lights, staring at the pillows. You knew and took account of how lost and unstable James came off to be, but it never occurred to you how severe it was.
You pressed your lips, speaking softly to him. “Is everything..-Are you doing alright there?”
He stayed still in the same position, still not responding. It pains you to receive silent treatment from him but all you can do is wait for him to open up.
“I killed her,” James tells her with a defeated voice. His head stayed down as he looked at the floor right in front of him, not bothering to look up at you.
Your eyes widen and you respond with nothing. Didn’t he love her? You try to reason that maybe James was imagining things from all the pent up guilt he must have felt, but it really did seem that yes. James killed his late wife.
You’ve never felt more convicted.
“I’m going to wash up..” You say after a minute of pure silence between the two of you and James nods in response. Hopefully a quick shower would drain away all your worries. You promptly leave to the bathroom, leaving James all alone by himself.
For almost an hour, you stood under the shower thinking to yourself. You continued with the regular routine of brushing your teeth, combing your hair, and putting on a fresh pair of clothes which you had thanks to hauling around your suitcase everywhere you went. You felt refreshed that you were in new clothes but felt a dawning sense of pressure and guilt still there. You’re also a bad person if you somehow still manage to like him, a murderer, after all he’s done right?
Finishing your alone time, you swing open the restroom door stepping outside of it. “The bathrooms free for use,” you spoke while looking around the room to spot for James. There he was, on the bed without a blanket on top of him, fast asleep.
James' shoes weren’t even off.. he still had his jacket on, he was knocked unconscious. You scurry to his side of the bed he was occupying. The last you could do was get his shoes off for being able to book a room for the two of you. So you take off both his black leather boots from his feet carefully, trying not to wake him up. After placing them down nearby his bedside you look at his military jacket.
You contemplate if you should change him out of it but you wonder if it would be considered overstepping. You furrow your brows with your eyes lingering in his state. When James slept, you came to notice how his face was definitely more relaxed. His hair fell out of the way he styled it and his crease on his forehead seemed to vanish. He glowed under the warm light of the lamp, but he was a stressed guy.
Sighing to yourself, you move your hands to clasp onto James' jacket. Although you had to maneuver his arms and had to tug a lot, you managed to get it off revealing his gray long sleeved shirt. You place the coat on the nightstand beside you and get ready to tuck him in the sheets when you notice something.
A bulge, a bulge in his jeans. Your face flushes, staring at it for quite some time. Who knows what would’ve happened if you tried to take his pants off? What’s surprising is the size of it. It looked as if it was uncomfortable resting there.. but you just quickly covered James in a blanket.
You wonder where to sleep. The couches only seated one person and the night was cold. Surely, if you slept on the right side of the bed it would be fine. So you chose to climb in the sheets, on the far side facing away from James.
After turning off the lamp, you try to close your eyes but that led to you thinking about what you just saw. You smothered your face into the pillows but can’t help feel your cheeks warm up. You know it’s wrong. James only has love for his wife and you should respect that, so you doze off to sleep.
You wake up in a daze, feeling something press up against you. There’s a weighted feeling lingering on your back. A pair of hands hold your waist and- Shit. Who was doing this?!
Your eyes open slowly to catch a glimpse of your situation. It was James, rutting into you.
He grinded into your ass pressing his hardon into you. Grunting softly into the crevice of your neck that you felt his scratchy stubble rub against you.
What was worse is that you were turned on by this. He was in such close proximity, you could feel the heat emitting off of him. You tightly press your legs together clenching your thighs for dear life, feeling something build up inside of you.
“James..-”
“Help me with this, please..” He begs breathily, pressing you tighter onto himself.
“Al..” You hesitate for a bit. “Alright.”
James reached for your chest, groping onto you. You can feel his rough hands through the fabric, much larger compared to yours. He’s pressing them and messaging them with his palms, running his fingers over your now hardened nipples as you jolt at the sensation.
“I’ve needed this,” He admits grudgingly, taking in your smell. You’re so clean, floral.. so different from him.
You don’t know whether to feel relieved or shameful.
By now your top is ridden up, so James takes his time to place his hands on your stomach to feel your bare skin. You feel so hot, it’s suffocating. His calloused hands slide further to reach your supple breasts. Having you hitch your breath. He takes his time toying with them, squeezing your buds in between his fingers in a firm manner.
“-You’re teasing me..” You manage to utter out, embarrassed.
“Just a few more minutes,” James mutters, still rubbing your skin.
He then moves his hand down into your pajama pants, trailing to your soppy cotton panties. Running a finger up and down your slip, sometimes visiting your clit. You try to suppress your reactions but you can’t help bucking your hips into him.
“You’re -wet there.” James remarks in a quiet tone. It came off as he was flustered or akward, maybe a mix of both. You felt your heat pulse from his words.
“..I want more,” Communicating to him sheepishly. Afraid of seeming whiny and demanding of doing too much while doing too little, you reach your hand back touching his clothed erection. Then pressed your hand on it, trying to feel his girth through his jeans. His warmth emanated off of it.
James groans in response, nodding his head in affirmation. He moved your undergarments to the side revealing your glistening folds, slick from it was still strung onto your panties like a string. He’d blush, admiring how messy you were and rubbed his fingers up and down your hot pussy.
He slid a finger in, watching as you suck it in. Wetness seeped out from you onto his hand as he watched your face contort. You really did put lube to shame..
James worked his way to getting two fingers inside you. You let out soft “ohs” and “ahs!” with a flushed face. Your body felt so hot but your core was even worse, it craved for more and latched onto his fingers as he tried to pull out. Filthy noises spilled from your pussy, embarrassing you from the wet sound you were producing.
He rubbed his pads on the walls of your soaked cunt, noticing you tense up around them as he’s preparing to slide a third finger into you. There James feels a spongy area, feeling it and pressing his fingers on the spot.
“James-!” You yelp, tossing your head up. You feel yourself gush from your pussy, not used to the unfamiliar feeling.
He clenched his jaw feeling himself throbbing with need. The way you said his name was so endearingly erotic. James' pants felt so tight that any friction he felt within his confines almost had him losing it.
You clench around his fingers, gripping his hand placed on your waist as you let out a whimper. However all James does is tighten your grip on you, pressing down on your stomach continuing to fingerfuck you. You bury your face into the pillows as you feel the need to urinate as pressure builds up.
James then stuck another finger in, thrusting in and out of you at a fast pace watching as you go slack in his arms and your hips wiggle trying to escape his grasp. Did you have to be this sexy?
“Auh-Shit!” You moan, coming undone.
Warm clear fluid expels from your cunt as your abdomen tenses up, arching your back like a cat. You're so tight, trying to keep James fingers in as you shudder through your organsm. All that pressure is gone as you begin to feel a tingling sensation across your body.
After a couple of seconds of rest, you hazily look down to see the sheets drenched by you. James looks at his pants, wondering what he just did to you seeing all your essence on him. You squirted.
It took a lot of self control for James to not end up cumming hands free. His dick is pulsating like crazy as he tries to not succumb to the cloud of lust impairing his decisions. It’s too late.
You feel the mattress and sheets shift as you try to come back to your senses as your eyes wander around the hotel room, you see him on top of you.
“I’m sorry, I can't—” James exhaled in a shaky voice while looking down at your body. “Can we.. for tonight..”
You kissed him boldly for the first time, pressing your lips against his somewhat chapped ones. James' eyes widened but he eventually closed his eyes just as you were doing. He relaxed, getting more comfortable with touching you by rubbing your thighs. When James had the chance, he prodded his tongue in your mouth. You and him shared spit and saliva as your wet tongues went back and forth with each other. Messy like a makeout session but more intimate.
You run your hands over his chest, pulling off for fresh air as a string of saliva connects both of your mouths.
“Please,” You plead in a needy tone, looking into James’ green eyes. You toss your soaked panties to the side, spreading your legs apart feeling your slick coat the insides of your thighs. “Take me..”
Quickly, James unzipped his pants, although fumbling and took his cock out from his boxers. James sighed at the feeling of the cold air, giving his dick a few strokes spreading the leaking beads of precum across his shaft.
God, it looked so pretty. All you could focus on was how lengthy it was. He was well groomed too. You’d clench around nothing thinking about that thing being inside you.
You watch as he rubs himself on you, coating him with your slick. You gasp at the feeling of friction whenever he hits your clit and couldn't come to ignore his little grunts of pleasure.
James slid into you, bullying his cock into you halfway. He’d sigh at the feeling of how tight you were around him. Wet walls encapsulating him as he’d groan at how much he’d missed this feeling. You however, felt the stretch as you gripped onto the sheets. Legs shakingly wrapped around his torso.
He continued to bottom out, forcing his way into you. Hearing the audible squelch that came from you and James from doing so. You hissed at sensation, feeling so filled up as you place an arm covering your eyes arching your back.
-And that’s when something happened.
As you were still adjusting to his size, he quickly pulled out and slammed into you.
James' rapid thrust did not stop. His balls hit you each time he went in and out. He was completely infatuated looking at your body, watching your breasts bounce everytime he did that. You easily accepted his cock because of how drenched your little pussy was. He treated you if you were a fleshlight, something to be taken out on.
“Wa-it-! Too -rough!” You wail, not used to the fast pace. Your hips couldn't keep up with the pace as they quivered, having yourself being pounded by this man. Was it supposed to sting this much?
He ignored your request, drinking up the site of you as he let out a suppressed moan. James watched as your expression grew on your face, showing how lewd you were. Gripping you by your waist he fucks yourself onto him as he plunges into you. More focused on the heat of the moment than the lasting consequences.
Skin slapping echoed off the walls of the room. You try to get a hold of yourself, but your body was reacting in different ways. Your sloppy cunt leaked out onto the messy bed sheets, dirtying the vicinity more. You felt your pelvis rub against his, which already got sticky from you. So many moans left your mouth, but you can’t help but wonder what was going on in James' mind for him to be treating you in this way with the little amount of thought you had left.
“Hah..—You’re -driving me crazy,” James’ exhaled in between grunts having a tighter hold on you. He leaned his head down to your chest and latched onto your nipples. Sucking hard onto your tit as if he was expecting you to lactate out of nowhere or something.
Your head rolled back into the pillows, getting so much stimulation as your body jolted from his assault. The way James treated you during sex was like a cheap hooker and you couldn’t help but feel disgusting for loving all of it. Your legs at this point were in the air and about to give up. You just needed more time to experience this, but based off the way there was buildup of pressure in your core, it wouldn’t last too long.
His saliva coated your chest as he managed to hit the same rigid point in your walls. You let out the most salacious sound as you bucked your hips into him, urging James to do it again. Everytime he managed to grind himself against that one spot you’d tense up and clench around him with your gummy walls. All this time he was holding off the urge to release right in you. You were too good for a guy like him.
James had to reciprocate in one way or the other, so he moved one of his hands from your waist, trailing down to your pelvic region. He got his hands lubricated in your hot slick, and began circling your bundle of nerves sending you ablaze. You tighten around him like a vice, feeling yourself gushing all over his cock. He managed to try and go as deep as he could go, as if he was trying to reach your stomach.
Pleasure hit him like a flood. Warm ropes of semen filled you as he groaned, waiting for his load to empty inside of you.
You feel the substance flow into you. Suddenly, realization hits you and began pressing your hands on his chest.
“-James’ pull-out!” You urged quickly, unsure if Plan-B was available around these parts of town. Even so, James wouldn’t budge off of you. He instead gave a few pumps, riding out his orgasm while rubbing your clit, coaxing you to your bliss in which you quickly followed.
“I’m-!” You sob with a hoarse voice. You held onto James’ shoulders for stability reaching your peak. All the buildup crashes down on you as a pulse is sent all the way from your spine, making you bend your back from the mattress. Milky fluid bubbles out of the seams around his cock. You almost get knocked out from how powerful it was. Crashing onto the sheets.
You both stay in silence, catching your expirated breaths trying to regain yourselves. You hear James heavy breathing as he rests on top of you, engulfing you in a hug.
Moonlight shunned through the windows, being the only source of light in the room. You couldn’t make out his face but he clung onto really hard. Your face went cold after the afterglow washed over. James just came inside of you.
You tried to get him off but he was too heavy, his grip increased more. Almost enough to bruise you. You felt warm splotches on your shirt, looking down at James, beginning to apprehend your situation.
“Mary..” He crooned, burying his face into your chest. “Mary..”
authors note ︵ ✦ Didn’t see that much works for Silent Hill 2 so I thought I’d contribute! Interpret the ending however you like, first fic! Once I get my AO3 account, I’ll probably post this..
# — this will be pinned for a while. if you're looking for navigation -> go here! ᰔ
this post: masterlist for the event, including dates, prompts, and characters, to be updated with links upon posting.
expectations: multifandom. most works will be short drabbles with little to no plot.
posting time: scheduled for 3:30AM, GMT+8.
tag: please block the "roxie; rtkkinktober24" tag if you want to filter out works from here!
all works here are smut, nsfw, only for 18+. if you are a minor, do not interact. i block minors and blogs without any age indicator.
day one. 4.9k words. somnophilia — luke & kieran (love & deepspace)
day two. 1.9k words. temperature play — joshua rosfield (final fantasy 16)
⊹ ࣪ ˖ HERE'S THE STORY FROM A TO Z ──── A CLITFILMS KINKTOBER EVENT.
──── I WANNA BE TAGGED !!!
please note that in order to be tagged you need to be over the age of eighteen & have a clear age indicator on your blog. comment below which fandom/ character (or optionally all the pieces) you'd like to be tagged in. please read the warnings of each fic carefully.
A FOR APHRODISIACS ▬▬ FT. CHOSO KAMO.
your beloved boyfriend has always been insatiable when it came to you. but how long will his self control hold when you slip him an aphrodisiac at an event and tell him to behave?
cw. use of aphrodisiacs, teasing, groping, slight exhibitionism and dry humping.
B FOR BONDAGE ▬▬ FT. CAPITANO.
there's a reason he's ranked first among the harbingers. testing his patience never ends well and you're about to learn the hard way.
cw. dom! capitano, sub! reader, various uses of bondage, edging, slight orgasm control, spanking.
C FOR CUCKOLDING ▬▬ FT. DILUC & KAEYA.
you've always been the sweetest little thing, kaeya thought. his advances towards his brother's girlfriend hasn't gone unnoticed and diluc decides enough is enough. surely kaeya would be satisfied with just a little taste of you?
dabi doesn't always pick fights but when he does they don't end well. is he really such a bad guy for getting turned on from your crying? perhaps you should put those tears to better use.
xavier is known to be level headed and calm, no matter what a situation may throw at him. but after a comparison is drawn xavier decides that it's time to show you he knows how to break a rule or two.
you screwed up and big time. making a mistake at such a high level in your profession will have dire repercussions and you're about to find out just how badly the consequences will be.
cw. hunter/prey dynamics, dom! sukuna, man handling, face fucking, oral (m. receiving)
G FOR GANGBANG ▬▬ FT. JING YUAN, DAN HENG & AVENTURINE.
it's hard to do your job when you've got three charismatic and charming men circling around you. one taste just isn't enough and once you cave there's truly no going back.
cw. overstimulation, oral (f. & m. receiving) fingering, orgasm denial, squirting, groping, heavy petting, unestablished relationships.
H FOR HANDJOB ▬▬ FT. MIRIO TOGATA.
family dinners have always been important. even more so now that you've announced your engagement to his parents. but mirio seems determined to keep you on your toes the entire night, even if it means possibly getting caught.
cw. slight exhibitionism, established relationship, jerking off.
I FOR IMPACT PLAY ▬▬ FT. NEUVILETTE.
being in such a high position of power has never been easy and neuvilette often carries that burden heavily on his shoulders. what would happen if you offer to take away some of his stress and be an outlet for him?
cw. established relationship, spanking, slapping, use of wips, overstimulation, slight dacryphilia.
J FOR JUST THE TIP ▬▬ FT. RAFAYEL.
you both know the risks of getting caught like this. after all, a painter and his assistant would break headlines if news ever came out. that's why rafayel promises to fuck you with just the tip. but his restraint is slipping and so is yours.
complaining to your friends about how boring your sex life with blade had gotten was your first mistake. him eavesdropping was the second. and you submitting to him underneath the glint of the pretty little throw knife he bought you was the third and final mistake.
cw. established relationship, slight humiliation, rough sex, blood kink, use of knives.
L FOR LEATHER & LACE ▬▬ FT. ZAYNE.
zayne has always been a hard worker, pushing himself and his body to the limit. what better way to surprise your boyfriend after a long shift with a pretty little bunny suit, lacy panties and a collar?
cw. established relationship, dom! zayne, edging, use of collars, slight man handling.
M FOR MUTUAL MASTURBATION ▬▬ FT. KEIGO TAKAMI.
what better way to test your boyfriend's self control than to give him the two simple words of instruction 'no touching'. but keigo is always finding new ways to test your own self control.
cw. established relationship, mutual masturbation, edging, overstimulation.
O FOR ORGASM DENIAL ▬▬ FT. BAKUGO KATSUKI.
it was your fault for teasing bakugo at an important hero event. it was your fault for flirting with his fellow heroes just to get a rise out of him. now you'll have to suffer the consequences of his punishment.
exploring something new in the bedroom is no easy feat but izuku has always been curious as to what makes you tick. now it's your turn to turn the tables and surprise him with something he's been fantasizing about.
cw. established relationship, dom! izuku, use of collars, pet play, pet names, teasing, edging, man handling, oral (m. receiving).
tags: smut, teasing, oral, cunnilingus, road head, car sex woohoo, pwp
word count: 6.6K
synopsis: Between being in the midst of your medical residency and being an up-and-coming author, it’s safe to say your personal life has been placed on stand-still. That is, until your editor decided that your next novel needed explicit smut scenes. That is, until your mentor and boss ends up striking a deal for you to help with “inspiration” for said novel. That is, until you fuck Zayne four times and your life changes forever.
original ao3 link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/57209872/chapters/145519015
art credit: @/kaito_aii
This is the last time you have sex on a weekday.
When Zayne left your apartment last night, you tried to write while the aftereffects of everything he did to you- everything he watched you do- still lingered. But you were beyond distracted, unable to even sit still without being assaulted with vivid flashbacks, a mix of mortification and lust coursing anew.
You shut your laptop and scream into your pillow.
Only after feeling sufficiently lightheaded do you shut off the lights and try to sleep, but the damned thing avoids you like the plague, and you stare at the ceiling for an untimed eternity. Everything feels wrong. Your blanket feels too thick, your skin too tight, the entire room too warm, too empty.
You don’t get more than three hours of sleep that night.
But it should be common knowledge that hospitals rest for no one, and you jolt out of bed to the sound of your pager beeping, rushing in while the sky is still dark.
The ambulance pulls in at the same time you do and the paramedics are already yelling out the status to everyone at the bay: forty-three-year-old male, chest trauma, performing CPR. It’s a race, a rush and rhythm you know well. You’re scrubbed down and entering the operating room alongside two other surgeons. The patient is intubated and they give the countdown before cutting him open.
It took two and a half hours to perform the surgery and stop all the internal bleeding, and by the end of it, you were exhausted, both physically and mentally.
But this was the most in control you’ve felt for a while. A sharp sort of stress that forced your hands into a trained precision and your mind into a rigorous sort of calm. It was almost as though you became a different person entirely, one you both admire and hate.
She’s calm and collected, only speaking when needed in commands to the operating room. She demands respect. She is who your mother is proud of, who you were supposed to be.
You’ve only just washed your hands and finished debriefing when you feel that half of you begin to slip away once more. And as the stress leaves, your mind wanders back to last night. To Zayne.
Thoughts that haunt you for the rest of the morning.
Finally, the clock hits eight and the ER is busy with the morning crowd. You do what you can until the other residents clock in, leaving to finally eat breakfast and get some sort of caffeine before your headache gets any worse.
Luckily, the vending machine has your favorite melonpan and green tea, and you get two of each. Sitting down, open your laptop and begin eating in the hallway outside the surgery bay, your manuscript staring right back at you, mocking.
Your eyes burn holes through the cursor blinking at the top of the page, and you try to will yourself to just type something, anything, but it doesn't work, and you end up slamming the computer shut with a sigh.
Unintentionally, your male lead has begun to resemble Zayne more and more- not physically, at least- but in his little mannerisms, his overly formal speech habit, and even his uncharacteristic love of sweets. Your lips quirk up at the memory.
But speak of the devil, and he shall appear.
Zayne comes from the other end of the hallway, looking like he also might be coming out from a surgery. He’s only meters away when his eyes lock onto yours.
You straighten against the chair, a shiver of heat racing down your spine as his mere presence sends an onslaught of flashbacks that are nothing short of sinful.
Stop. What happened last night is part of a professional, mutually beneficial deal. Zayne is still your mentor— your boss too, in some contexts— and you refuse to have these thoughts about him in your place of work.
Smiling, your fingers still against the keyboard as you hope the whole thing doesn’t look as strained as it feels.
Zayne looks the opposite of amused. If anything, he appears pissed.
His gaze narrows on you, and for a second, you think you spot something else behind the cold indifference. But the look passes as quickly as it appeared, his face back to its usual stony expression, and you must have imagined it.
“Good morning, Dr. Zayne,” you say.
Zayne stalls, shoulders tensing for a moment before he nods and continues walking. He doesn’t spare you another glance as he passes, doesn’t say another word, the awkward tension so thick it almost makes you choke on your melonpan.
Your eyes trail after him until he rounds the corner.
Well, that went splendidly.
You try to type again, but it turns out your brain is a useless lump of flesh because no matter how many times you read over the paragraph, the words fail to register. You huff out an exasperated breath, slam the laptop shut, and drag yourself to your office to prepare for rounds.
Even so, you go through your morning routine with a strained smile, a newfound weight pulling against your chest, a sharp sort of pain between guilt and longing you’ve never felt before.
—----
Zayne is going to lose his fucking mind.
He is an adult, he reminds himself. A well-mannered, respectful, professional adult.
So why can’t he stop imagining your face underneath him as you come undone? Why can’t he get the memory of every sound you made, the overly sweet way you said his name, the very cadence of your voice out of his head?
And the way you said please.
Zayne grinds his teeth hard enough that something clicks in the back of his jawbone, his usual flat expression twisted with a scowl that sends other doctors and residents scrambling out from his path. His clipboard groans under the pressure from his grip, and Zayne can’t make it to his private office fast enough before he slams the door shut and drags his palm down his face.
He sees you every time he closes his eyes.
“Fuck.”
Zayne swore to himself that helping you would change nothing in the workplace, and yet clearly, only one of you was mature enough to hold that part of your deal up.
This must be a new level of depravity Zayne never assumed he would stoop to.
But it had been torture to only watch you last night. A beautiful, painful torture he would subject himself to again and again and again just for the chance to have you writhing against him like that once more.
The way your doe eyes had practically begged for him to fuck you all on their own when he forced you to look up nearly made him come in his trousers. And thank god you were too far gone to notice how desperate he was, grinding insistently against your bedsheets while you came around his fingers. And now…
And now Zayne was fucking hard again in his office of all places.
It was a wonder he got anything done anymore.
Zayne hasn't had a lover in years and it's beginning to wear him thin. And yet, the idea of finding someone else to satiate his needs doesn’t appeal to him in the slightest. Not when his mind is so consumed with the thought of you, and the sounds you made, the way you looked at him, the way your eyes would roll to the back of your head every time he curled his fingers into that spot inside of you.
God, he should have just asked you out on a date first.
Restraint had come easy to him. Zayne was practically raised on it, his very life dependent on his ability to restrain his Evol, the lives of others dependent on his patience and restraint in the operating room.
But no, when it came to you, everything failed him.
Maybe he had been a little harsh this morning. Zayne doesn’t know. He doesn't want to think about it.
Running a hand through his hair, Zayne imagines bumping into you again. Would you still be happy to see him, smiling as you did this morning, or would you ignore him just as he did you?
“About this morning,” Zayne stops, restarts. “I’m sorry for avoiding conversation earlier today.” A groan, “No, I can’t begin like that. This morning I wasn’t myself, there was a patient who required percutaneous coronary intervention and the stress must have gotten to me.”
He tries again, and again, gesturing to his empty office before dragging a palm down his face. “I must be going insane.”
Zayne has never felt more foolish in his life.
He doesn't even have the excuse of a lack of experience in this field. In his previous relationships, he was always the one to initiate dates and intimacy, and it was the same with any relation that had lasted longer than one night.
But you are different.
The thought of taking his time with you makes him weak. To finally have your legs wrapped around his waist, to finally hear his name on your lips, to finally have your body pressed flush against his and hear you beg for him once more.
He wants to do so much more for you, wants you to use him as you need, to take and take everything he has to give. Wants to surrender to your every whim and every outrageous idea you’ve ever had floating around in that unpredictable head of yours. Wants to taste you, and see if you taste as sweet as you sound when you beg.
Wants to know how your cunt feels and what face you would make when he finally, finally fucks you.
God, Zayne wants to ruin you.
He wants so badly it drives him mad.
Zayne can't avoid you, and he shouldn’t. There are still matters to discuss for your novel and a deal to hold up. He is a man of his word.
A date.
That could work. Just a way to get closer, as colleagues, as partners.
You would have to spend time together outside the hospital, where the air is clear of any distractions and expectations and Zayne can get his head on straight. Even moreso, it should be something nice, something that will hopefully take your mind off your impending deadline.
Right, that would be perfect. An opportunity to simply be providing you with the proper inspiration and guidance, as a good mentor should, and keep his end of the deal should you ask for another inspiration session.
Turning back in his chair, Zayne begins filtering through his email and paper files, until something slips from the growing stack.
The annual charity gala.
As a resident yourself, you were likely already invited, so proposing the two of you go together shouldn’t be too ostentatious, right?
Zayne stares down at the gilded gold lettering.
No. It was definitely out of line in so many ways. But the only other option was to continue down this path, to continue fooling himself that he only agreed to be your fuck buddy out of courtesy and care, and not these wretched thoughts that plauge his every waking moment.
It would mean he’d be completely at your mercy for seeing you next, whenever you needed him. Or his body, at least.
Zayne doesn’t have the willpower to last that long. Besides, this is more efficient.
So, Zayne opens the letter, pulls the invitation card from its envelope, and begins drafting an email to you in hopes of preserving a little bit of his dignity.
He didn’t even have to wait an hour to get your response: you said yes.
______
Zayne opens the car door for you, ever the gentleman.
Sliding into the passenger seat, you take extra care not to snag the hem of your cocktail dress on your heels or the door. By the time you buckle your seat belt, and the car roars to life, dashboard glowing a soft orange.
"Ready?" Zayne asks, adjusting his cuff as he begins to reverse out of the parking spot.
It’s the first time Zayne has formally invited you to be his plus one, and the thought of being seen beside him like this- at such a formal gala, no less- is all at once thrilling and nauseating.
Zayne steals another glance at you, and where your hands lay clenched in your lap. "It’s just a hospital event, you may very well see other residents there."
A laugh. "I'm not sure if that makes me feel better or worse."
Even without the extra stress from attending this gala, your stomach has been in knots all day long-- your manuscript is due in less than a week. You’ve written a lot, and Zayne’s hands-on “experience” helped you get ample inspiration for most of the main scenes. Yet you can feel the deadline creeping up, the sense of impending doom looming over you.
Of course Zayne notices. "We'll try and have fun, it's just a couple of hours. I heard they also have billiard tables, if you’re interested?” A tap on the steering wheel, then he adds, a little quieter, “Your dress is nice. The color suits you.”
You smile, but your eyes don’t leave the road. Instead, you seem to zone out on the row of streetlights, shadows cast over your face as they pass by, one by one.
“You clean up pretty well yourself, doctor.”
Zayne continues. “Tell me more about your novel’s progress, then. If you need any more assistance…” he trails off, and you feel a prickling heat creep up the back of your neck. Finally, you look away from the window, and Zayne relaxes against his seat.
So you begin to tell him about the newest trope your editor wants you to include, a classic in enemies-to-lovers books: forced proximity. “The concept is great. Who doesn’t love it when the two characters who swear they hate each other accidentally get stuck together and turned on at the worst possible time?”
You ramble, propping your arm against the car armrest as you turn to face Zayne. "So,” you say, ”I'm trying to think of ways they could find themselves in such a situation. Maybe they're cornered by guards or captured by a mutual enemy, or we combine the classic injury trope so they can’t move.”
"That is one option," he says, eyes still on the road. A turn, and Zayne shifts gears as the car speeds ahead.
“A classic my mind says no, but my body says yes dilemma.” You debate telling Zayne about the premise around aphrodisiacs and sex pollen, but you think that really might be pushing him too far. You are in a car, after all, and an accident is the last thing you want.
Instead, you ask, "Have you read any enemy-to-lover books?"
He shrugs. "I've had some experience."
"I'm sure you have."
Zayne shoots you a sharp look. Your smile grows, slow and wicked.
"And I've done a bit of research," he clarifies, voice flat just to prove a point.
"Right, research."
"Well, to best help you, I thought…” Zayne’s brows furrow as he merges lanes, letting the blinking of the indicator fill the silence before clearing his throat. “I thought reading a book or two in the same field would help me understand your own book better. I must say yours is far better written than some of these popular novels.”
The mental image of Zayne sneaking a read at some filthy romantasy book has you giggling.
"And you’re sure that's the reason?”
"Of course," he says, though his face is slightly pink.
You feign suspicion, poking at Zayne’s arm. "What if this whole time, you’ve been hunting me down as a means to read my unreleased books? Then the only reason you agreed to this arrangement is because you're secretly a stalker fan."
"Interesting theory,” a smirk, one you see pull at the corner of Zayne’s lips. “But not the only reason."
"Oh? What’s the other then?"
Zayne smiles, the dim light from the dashboard sharpening his features. Another turn, you spare a glance at the GPS only to see you’re nearly at the gala venue. But still, no answer came, not as Zayne seemed to refocus on the road, shifting gears as the light turns green.
You groan, “You’re not even listening anymore.”
“I am.” Zayne shoots you a look from the corner of his eye, one hand leaving the wheel to rest against your thigh. “There is, however, a difference between listening and answering.”
But now it’s your turn to stop listening. You can’t, not when his thumb does that thing again, tracing mindless circles against your inner thigh while he looks back at the road.
It does something, to have his hand there, warm and heavy. Something that has your thighs pressing together, heat creeping down your neck.
Zayne catches the motion. Of course, he does. And he squeezes, just a little.
And then a brilliantly wretched idea hits you.
"Do you have any suggestions?" You ask, trying to keep your tone innocent, even as you part your thighs just a little further. "I mean, you did research and all. Surely, you remember something useful about the plots. Or the sex scenes."
"The sex scenes," Zayne echoes, his voice tight.
"Well, yes. They're kind of important. They're why people buy the books." You lick your lips. "For example, surely one of those books you read for research had interesting forbidden tropes?"
"It's likely." His jaw ticks. "You'll have to be more specific.”
"Well..." you draw the word out, shifting in your seat. “You know where else would be a really inappropriate place for a character to get a boner?” Reaching over, you glide your hand up Zayne’s thigh, mirroring his placement on your own. “In a car, doctor.”
Zayne thanked every god for their mercy the moment he got to a red light, car jolting to a halt as he eyed you with a frown.
“Behave," he scolds. "This is beyond reckless."
The genuine frustration edged into Zayne’s voice makes you hesitate, and you move to sit up, retreating your hand from his thigh when it brushes past something unmistakably hard.
You feel Zayne tense beneath you, the car jerking forward before speeding along as though nothing had happened. Oh, but your lips cracked into a vicious grin as you stretched your way fully over the center console, wriggling your ass in the air on the far side of the seat.
Really, you should have realized that the stern, self-deprived Zayne gets off on scolding you as much as you did.
You watch him closely, but despite his harsh words, he never moves to actually stop you. So you continue, scraping your nails up his trousers as your mouth follows, hot breath leaving damp spots against the expensive cotton as Zayne’s thigh jumps under your touch.
God, the click of his belt coming undone elicited a nearly Pavlovian response at this point, the sound of metal on metal making something in your core flutter. You waste no time going for his zipper, palming at the bulge straining into your touch as it pushes out from between the metal all on its own.
Zayne laments all the trust you placed in him as a driver. Despite being only minutes from the venue, he swore he was gripping the steering wheel hard enough for it to snap. A car behind him honks and Zayne swears under his breath, thoughts clouding over as your hands finish sliding his zipper down, gently palming at his cock as he inhales sharply at the feeling of your hot breath over clothed skin.
And the moan Zayne lets out when you lick the head of his cock is enough to have you gushing. But you never take him any deeper, blocked by your position over the passenger seat, settling with unsatisfactory kitten licks up and down his length, leaving sloppy marks without ever speeding up.
Zayne shudders, huffing in frustration and restraint as he unconsciously tries to buck himself into your mouth, failing due to the awkward side angle you placed yourself in. Instead, you splay your hands over his lower belly, untucking his shirt as your fingers rub against his v-line, as you begin to suck just barely over this throbbing head.
“You shouldn’t– fuck." His jaw flexes, and his fingers are white-knuckled, the veins in his forearms standing out with the strain.
The shock of hearing Zayne curse was almost a physical blow. The word was spoken more like a prayer than a profanity, something desperate and violent caught in his throat, a warning and plea all at once. It made something hot coil deep in your gut.
It made you want to push him further.
You must have made some type of sound muffled over his cock because Zayne hisses, his hand coming down from the steering wheel to grab at your hair, fingers threading into your scalp and pulling, just enough to hurt.
"You are absolutely insufferable." Zayne's voice breaks into a moan. "Stop teasing me."
You pull off of him with a wet pop, sitting up and wiping the drool from your chin. "But I’m hardly doing anything. Don’t tell me you’re getting so hard just from a few kisses."
"Reckless. Lack of foresight. Do I need to teach you how to behave like an adult?" Zayne's grip on the steering wheel tightens, his jaw clenching. You can practically feel the heat radiating off him.
"No," you lean forward and kiss the head, lips wrapping around it as you swirl your tongue. Zayne's foot presses down on the gas and the car jerks forward. "But maybe I could use some help learning my lesson."
You swallow him down, and his hips jump. Humming around him, Zayne’s cock twitches, and before you can stabilize yourself he’s pushing your head down further. You don’t think he realizes he’s doing it, not with the way his hips stutter upwards, thickly corded muscles of his thighs tensing as you nearly choke.
Another broken moan fills the car alongside the wet sounds of your mouth, drool leaking from the corners of your lips as his cock bumps the back of your throat. You gag, and Zayne’s grip on your head finally loosens, the wheels spinning over loose gravel as you pull off just to breathe.
You can't see him, not with the angle, but the feeling of his eyes on you, burning into the side of your face, and the heavy throb of his cock against your tongue was enough to know just how close he is.
You're so distracted, tears blurring your vision, that you don't notice the car has stopped, not until Zayne's other hand is reaching over to cup your jaw, forcing your mouth off his cock and forcing your head up to look at him.
The moment your eyes meet, he frowns, thumb rubbing across your bottom lip, cleaning your smeared lipstick and spit from your ministrations. "Look at you," he hums. "What a mess."
The nearby spots in the lot are empty, but you’ve arrived early, and you can see cars parking close enough to send your heart racing.
You glance at the clock- seven forty-six- and you know despite how Zayne’s windows are tinted, it would take someone looking over from a meter or so away to see the two of you, to see the way Zayne's hands are fisted in your hair, to see you arched over the middle console, to see how hard he was and hear the slick, wet noises you made around his cock.
You nearly yelp as Zayne pushes you off his lap, messily tucking himself back into his trousers before climbing out the door. It shuts with a bang and you’re about to scramble up when you hear the passenger door open and are roughly hauled out of the car and slung over Zayne’s shoulder.
You don’t even have time to scream. The next thing you know, you're being tossed on your back into the back seat, barely having time to right yourself before Zayne follows you, door slamming shut. He's pulling at your dress, bunching the fabric up and around your waist before dragging you under him.
“Did I not satisfy you thoroughly enough last time?” Zayne scolds between breaths, teeth scraping over your pulse point before he bites down. “Or perhaps what I should have realized is that you’re simply a filthy little girl who gets off on being punished?”
The sound you let out is obscene, a whiny moan that has Zayne groaning as he pulls away, his mouth slick and shiny with spit. He grinds his cock against your stomach, his hand coming around your throat and forcing you to face him.
It’s almost effortless, the way he holds you against him, folding your thighs to your chest as he bends to avoid hitting the roof of his car. His cock is still rock hard and pressed against the back of your thighs, only the thin slip of your dress shielding you from his greedy eyes.
"Zayne- fuck, we're gonna be late." You choke out, a gasp following as his hips grind into yours.
“Answer the question.”
Another bite to the plush above your breast and you cry, fearing more for the possibility that he leaves a permanent mark more than anything else. As if hearing that, Zayne bites again. Harder.
“Yes!” You thrash, trying to kick him off you but there’s little room in the back seats and the leather sticks to your sweat-slick back as Zayne works to pin your hips. “Yes, I’m sorry. I only— I wanted to see how long you’d last.”
A laugh, short and cruel. “How long I’d last?”
Zayne grabs your wrists and holds them over your head. He leans close, so his lips brush yours when he speaks, and the words are low and soft. Dangerous.
"Well, then. Allow me to return the favor.” Zayne lifts your leg, pressing a kiss to your calf as your foot hits the window, one heel falling off with a thud. “If memory serves me right, isn’t this a trope too?”
It’s almost effortless, the way he lifts your hips all the way up, your legs kicking helplessly over his shoulders as they’re forced up against the roof of the car. Shifting his weight around in the tight space, Zayne coaxes your calves to cross behind his neck, giving a small grunt as his face is pressed into your inner thighs, one arm straining against the leather of the car seats.
“Where they’re stuck in a small space, right?” Zayne’s eyes never leave yours. “Maybe a cave,” his tongue trails up the bare skin of your quivering thigh, “Under a desk,” licking his way up, “in a car?”
He doesn’t give you a chance to answer, not when the heat of his mouth presses directly onto your clothed clit, licking over the lace of your panties as you arch off the leather seats.
You’re already a dripping mess, writhing against the leather of the seats and the hard muscle of Zayne's shoulders, the sensation of his hot tongue pushing against your clit through the lace a painful sort of pleasure. Not enough. Not nearly enough.
Zayne pulls off and stares at the string of his spit and your arousal, warm and sticky, against the soaked patch of cotton between your legs connecting to his lips. Involuntarily, he bucks into the cold emptiness underneath you.
Fuck, he’s so hard he might come from this alone.
You hardly notice, not with the way every muscle and nerve quivers and begs for release, jaw falling slack as Zayne’s lips are quick to tease you again, this time pressing his tongue flat against the crotch of your panties and laving across the entire seam. The gorgeous arch of his nose presses up into your clit, and you moan, one hand flailing backways as it slides against the fogged-up window.
"Zayne, fucking hell, just eat me out properly!" The curses tumble out of your mouth before you can think of the repercussions, but there was no way he could keep eating you out through the material, no matter how good it felt.
"So desperate." Zayne mumbles between open-mouthed kisses to your cunt, "So needy."
"Fuck- please," You draw one hand through his hair, pulling his face closer. "Please, please, please-"
"Poor thing. I suppose it would be against my oath to leave my patient in such pain." And he roughly presses his thumb up against the hood of your clit.
You sob, hands scrambling for something- anything- to hold on to as they slip down the window and dig into the leather of the seats. But Zayne was nothing if not observant from your last night together, and it doesn't take long for you to cum as soon as his mouth latches onto your poor neglected cunt through your panties.
Still riding out each trembling wave of your orgasm, Zayne doesn’t fight the way your thighs clench around his head, kissing you through it until he readjusts your legs against his shoulders, forcing you higher onto your upper back. His fingers toy with the edge of the fabric, pleased with the way it sticks to your skin.
All you can focus on is his breathing, heavy and fast, as he stares down at your cunt so intensely it makes you blush, helplessly exposed with your thighs pinned across his broad shoulders. Spread for him like every inch of the offering he intended on devouring you as. His goddess, his sacrificial lamb. Gods, he wants to know how every part of you tastes.
Zayne’s cock twitches again, and he shudders violently, a fat glob of precum falling onto the leather seats below, mixing with your slick that has already slid down his chin and your thighs.
If left alone, no doubt it’ll stain.
“Look at the mess you made.” Zayne scolds, forcing your jaw to the side so you can see the puddle staining the seats. You whimper, and Zayne shakes his head. “Well, we can’t just leave it. I suppose I’ll have to teach you to take responsibility for your actions.”
Your hips jump. It's so hard to focus when he's talking like that, and the only coherent thought you can muster is that Zayne would be a fantastic writer if he ever decided to switch professions.
But he begins to shift you around, and your brows furrow as Zayne’s hand dips between the two of you, down to the leather, sweeping across the splattered mix of cum with two fingers before forcing your jaw towards him again.
“Clean up your mess.”
You think something is permanently fucked in your brain with the way your cunt flutters at that.
Zayne’s unyielding face stares down at you, his dripping fingers pressed against your lips as you wrap around them and suck. It’s heady, the scent of sex overwhelming as Zayne practically fucks the digits into your mouth, sliding them against your tongue until you gag, thumb tracing loving circles against your bottom lip as though coaxing you to take them deeper.
Only after gagging twice more does Zayne take mercy on you, withdrawing his fingers from your mouth. Instead, the pads of his fingers press against your tongue, and you take the hint, beginning to suck at them until the taste of you disappears.
His fingers slip from your mouth, a trail of spit connecting his fingers and your mouth before Zayne breaks it. Your tongue flicks out to swipe at the excess drool, and he wipes your bottom lip.
“Good girl, tasting just how desperate you are.” Every word of praise Zayne whispers goes straight to your cunt, nearly making you dizzy until he finally sits back.
“And now…” he finally moves to push the ruined fabric to the side, “I get to taste, too.”
The feeling of his hot tongue directly on your slit nearly has you in tears, and your hand lurches into Zayne’s hair to force him closer.
“No pulling. Behave,” Zayne warns. “This is still meant to be discipline for your earlier stunt on the road.”
Whimpering, you nod, parted lips swollen and shiny from the abuse Zayne put them under with his fingers. Satisfied, Zayne finally gives you what you need, kissing the swollen flesh of your clit directly before curling two fingers into your aching cunt.
“Zayne-”
He’s addicted to the way you say his name. He’s addicted, and he’s going to come in his pants if you don’t stop.
You begin begging again before Zayne covers your mouth with the palm of his hand, muffled cries still enough to drive him insane as he focuses on getting you past that high.
Despite his threats, you can’t help but tug at Zayne’s hair, needing him against you as your hips began moving or their own accord, bucking and grinding senselessly against his face until you were practically riding his tongue. Chest heaving, you looked up to see him staring directly at you, silhouetted from the car window, green eyes nearly aglow with wretched desire.
Just like that, you’re coming, hard, thighs clenching down around Zayne’s head until he’s certain you’re trying to kill him. But gods, he never wants you to stop.
Addicted, Zayne presses open mouthed kisses to your cunt, swallowing everything you give him as his eyes roll back.
Desperate, you try to crawl away from him, but there’s nowhere to go. Your head hits the car door before Zayne drags you right back, forcing your hips up higher as your back is arched into the air, nearly perpendicular as you sob, legs kicking over his shoulders.
But still, Zayne continues, and he knows. He feels it the moment your thighs lock up, the way your stomach goes tight and the way your senseless pleading still muffled by his palm reaches a higher pitch. And he takes advantage, not letting up as he curls his fingers until your cunt clenches down on his digits and tongue, squirting into his mouth.
Almost in apology, Zayne finally withdraws his fingers as he opts to instead clean you directly with his tongue, nose accidentally overstimulating your swollen clit as you weakly fight to push his head away.
Zayne takes the hint this time, lowering your sore legs onto the seats below, finally set on a solid surface after being held in the air for so long. The slit of your dress is askew across your stomach instead of thigh, and Zayne gently tugs it back into place.
Leaning down, he picks up your forgotten heel before slipping it back into your foot, buckling it as you shiver every time his fingers brush your ankle.
When Zayne finally faces you again, the lower half of his face is a complete mess, and you should be mortified never having squirted before let alone on your mentor’s face.
But Zayne merely wipes the back of his hand across his mouth, smiling like the slick dripping down his chin was won in victory and not debauchery. “Well then, shall we?”
tags: smut, teasing, guided masturbation, fingering, first time (kinda), pwp
word count: 9.3K what the fuck
synopsis: Between being in the midst of your medical residency and being an up-and-coming author, it’s safe to say your personal life has been placed on stand-still. That is, until your editor decided that your next novel needed explicit smut scenes. That is, until your mentor and boss, Dr. Zayne, ends up striking a deal for you to help with “inspiration” for said novel. That is, until you fuck Zayne four times and your life changes forever.
original ao3 link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/57209872/chapters/145519015
art credit: @/kaito_aii
You’re screwed. Fucked. Utterly damned.
Groaning into your desk, you slam your head down upon piles of patient records and old case files.
You’re only halfway done with your medical residency and somewhere along the way turned your lifelong passion for writing into a successful side gig. So successful in fact, that it was single-handedly providing you with enough money to get by and complete residency.
After anonymously posting online for a decade, you signed with a publisher three years ago, on the exact same day you matched with your first choice cardiothoracic residency program here at Akso Hospital.
Needless to say, you haven't felt that magnitude of happiness in years.
You doubt you ever will again.
In the midst of your wallowing, your phone lights up: Michaela. It’s a follow-up to her previous messages, all with the same damn request.
Michaela - Boss Man
checking in on my star, how’s that manuscript going?
talked to the director again to try and plead your case but she didn’t budge :(
she said w current book trends the fans will go crazy for a few explicit spicy scenes
pluuuus she believes in your writing enough to know you’ll make it big! come on, star, you know I’m here if you need any extra help
You - Little Star
Hey Micheala
You cringe for a moment at how formal you sound, but honestly, you’re too burnt out from writer’s block to match your editor’s energy and too tired from today’s shift to push back any further.
You - Little Star
No I get it, thanks for trying though
I’m almost done with the novel, it's just those scenes that are taking a little more time
And by a “little more time,” you mean you’ve tried writing and rewriting them over a dozen times just to cringe, delete, and scream into your keyboard. Over. And over again.
It’s not that you’re clueless, you’ve read your fair share of erotica for inspiration and pleasure equally. But actually writing them yourself? That was a whole different story. Pacing, banter, and even making the right word choices without sounding like a repetitive pervert or absolute lunatic were all so much harder to do than you previously gave authors credit for.
Not to mention, you haven’t actually experienced a lot first-hand.
Beyond a few situationships in high school and undergraduate flings between pre-med classes and internships absolutely kicking your ass, you’re probably half as sexually experienced as most adults your age. And you had absolutely no intention of re-entering the dating scene with residency, until now.
With Michaela breathing down your neck about how these explicit smut scenes were a marketing goldmine and the combined stress from your jobs, it seems like you’ve been fighting a losing battle. This time, however, your main income was on the line.
You groan as another ping lights up your phone, going to silence it when you realize it’s from the hospital Slack and not your editor.
residency-CS-alerts
Dr. Zayne: Second look needed for a CMR scan. Nonurgent.
Jumping to your feet, you sprint from the office wing to get to the MRI’s before another resident can take your spot. It’s not that your program lacked opportunities- far from it as you attend the top program– but rather that this particular opportunity was rare indeed.
Doctor Zayne. Akso Hospital's respected chief cardiac surgeon, who has made groundbreaking advances to the treatment of congenital heart abnormalities in neonates. At only twenty-seven he is the youngest recipient of the Starcatcher Award. His dedication to his craft is unparalleled, as he tirelessly devotes more time to surgeries than any other doctor you know, cementing his reputation as an unwavering force in the field.
He’s also impossibly tall, extremely well built for a man who seems to spend most of his time in the hospital, and has a face sculpted like a Roman deity in marble. And gods, his voice.
Safe to say, you admire him just a little.
You’ve bumped into him a handful of times during your first two years here, but the doctor was so engrossed in his work that the occurrence was rare enough. But a chance to perform with him? To consult alongside him on a cardiovascular case?
You began to fear for your own heart’s safety as you felt it skip in your throat.
Finally reaching the MRIs, you knock once before sliding the door to the control room open with a bow. And when you stand straight again, Dr. Zayne’s steel-set eyes only glance at you before he points to the readings displayed on the computer.
“Tell me what you see.”
Your mouth is still hanging open from what was going to be a very enthusiastic self-introduction, but you cut yourself off with a cough and stumble over to the monitor. Dr. Zayne’s eyes follow you with a precision that makes your hands tremble, and you bend over slightly to scan the patient’s readings.
You’re about ready to make a diagnosis when you realize you haven’t gotten much background on the patient.
“What’s the patient’s briefing?” You look down, flinching as you see Dr. Zayne already staring at you. “If I can hear it, sir?”
He nods once. “An adolescent female with complaints of shortness of breath and coughing. She had no specific medical history, but grew up in the countryside unable to visit a proper clinic for several years while this issue persisted.”
Countryside… that could mean this was an undiagnosed issue that festered.
Clearing your throat, you begin to point to the different scans. “Firstly, there’s clearly an enlarged cardiac silhouette.” Squinting, you point at two denser mounds in CMR scans. “Here and here. There are two large cysts along the lateral and inferior walls of the LV pushing and invading the myocardial walls.”
Gods, the cysts were huge. Even if surgery was performed on her now, would she survive?
Dr. Zayne’s low voice pulls you back into the control room. “Then what is your final diagnosis?”
“I–” you stutter, shaking your head. “I would recommend surgery immediately.”
“More detail than that, please.”
A sharp inhale and you scan the readings again. “Maybe a cannulation? The cysts might be causing an SVC compression, which would explain her shortness of breath.” You dare ask. “Will she survive?”
Dr. Zayne stands up this time. “You did well. She was my patient, and underwent surgery over a week ago.” He gently pats you on the shoulder, touch warm. “Our job as surgeons is to act decisively, to learn, and to try. Not to be heroes.”
You can’t manage to say anything back as Dr. Zayne leaves the room, the door sliding shut behind him.
_______
Surprisingly, you’ve been seeing more and more of Dr. Zayne since that day.
And if that wasn’t enough, the doctor has also been actively acknowledging you, exchanging greetings and simple conversation when you pass in the halls, cafeteria, or shared cardiovascular wing of the hospital.
Not that you haven’t been putting in the effort either.
Dr. Zayne’s current apprentice is graduating from residency this year, and you have every intention of becoming their successor. Between picking up extra shifts, answering every pager call, and of course paying special attention in case Dr. Zayne specifically requests a second pair of hands, you’ve been climbing up the ranks amongst your peers.
Luckily, it seems those efforts have not been in vain.
You’ve been doing so well apparently, that Dr. Zayne wants to meet with you in the hospital’s cafe today. Interviews before officially announcing mentor-mentee pairs was not unusual, but the thought of being one-on-one with Dr. Zayne after your last case together still has your mind reeling.
Will he pull out old case files? Will he bring you to a patient and test you in real time? You have half a mind that he might pull out a custom-made test and timer. It seems on-brand enough to be a possibility.
Yet when you arrive, the cafe is completely empty, save for the staff and a familiar man in a white lab coat.
Dr. Zayne stands as soon as he sees you and beckons for you to sit, pulling the chair across from him out in the same movement. He clears his throat, a barely-there smile gracing his lips as he watches you settle down. “How have you been, doctor?”
“Good! Good.” The words rush out from you and you flinch, forcing yourself to slow down. Was the cafe always this small? “Discharged a patient today, so all good news.” Holy striped cows, if you say the word good one more time you might lose your mind.
“Well,” Dr. Zayne nods, taking a sip of something that looks like a far-too-sweet cup of coffee practically drenched in whipped cream. “That’s certainly good to hear.”
You die a little inside.
“I’ll keep things rather brief since I’ve already made my mind up.”
Was this it? Did you ruin your chance at having Linkon’s top doctor as your mentor because of your damn mouth?
Dr. Zayne reaches inside his jacket, and you swear your heart is going to beat itself out of your throat. He pulls out a simple white envelope with your name scrawled across the front, the paper crisp as he slides it across the table.
His fingers linger on the edges before he speaks. "I wanted to formally offer you the position to shadow me as my apprentice."
"I accept!"
The words fly out before you can stop them and Dr. Zayne looks stunned for a moment before laughing, a smooth and deep sound you didn't expect from him. He looked good when he smiled. Softer, content.
The ghost of the smile stays, even when Zayne speaks again. "It's not a timed offer, you don't have to agree so quickly."
You flush down to your neck, looking down at the envelope. "Right. Only, it would be an honor to learn from you, sir. I really don’t know anyone in our field who wouldn’t accept it."
Zayne hums, but his brows furrow. “You don’t have to call me sir either. Doctor Zayne is fine while we are at the hospital. Zayne is more than acceptable elsewhere, we’re not that far apart in age and I don’t wish for this to be an overly formal relationship.”
You curse your heart for fluttering, reminding yourself that he only means this in a conductive, professional way.
After a beat of silence, Zayne looks at the clock and stands, taking his sugar-filled drink with him. You never pegged him to have such a massive sweet tooth.
"I have a consultation now, but I would like to talk to you more about your residency. We should set up weekly meetings outside of work, check your calendar, and organize it later.”
You nod and thank him as he walks away, leaving you alone to open the envelope. Inside is a simple handwritten note, signed and stamped with Dr. Zayne's official signature alongside Akso Hospital’s.
A reminder that this was, in fact, not a dream.
_______
It’s barely been a month since you’ve begun officially shadowing Zayne, yet you swear it feels as though a part of you has known him forever.
Aside from his virtually frozen demeanor and tendency to make snarky quips at your habit of running your mouth, he’s been nothing but a patient mentor. Brief, direct, unrelenting, but attentive to your work and growth.
If that were all, then everything would be perfect.
If that were all, then you would be sticking perfectly to your ten-year plan: graduating early, completing residency under the top doctor in the top program, and then overtaking him as the top cardiovascular surgeon with a breakthrough of your own.
But of course, the plot has to thicken.
Sure, the first few weeks have been strictly business, but since then, your conversations with Zayne—Dr. Zayne—have morphed into more casual, more playful meetings. Your weekly check-ins have moved from the hospital cafeteria to a cozy family-run cafe in town that Zayne introduced to you. And the way you’ve begun to think of him was the most damning part of it all.
But you don’t have the time nor capacity to deal with whatever this was becoming.
Not when your novel’s deadline was in three weeks, and you still had absolutely nothing to show for it. Without this new novel’s money, you wouldn’t be able to pay for rent or food or transport, and residency sure as hell wasn’t giving you enough to survive off of alone.
This past week, you’ve gone from stressed to a thundering cloud of misery. Snapping at interns, drinking dangerously over the FDA-recommended caffeine intake, and ignoring the maelstrom your face has become.
And of course, today happens to be your weekly check-in with Zayne.
Dragging yourself to your usual booth, you watch him order at the counter and bring his drink to the table alongside a signature pair of macaroons, a slice of chocolate cake, and an eclair. He sets it all down with a huff and sits, looking over at you with an iron-cold gaze. You can smell the incoming lecture.
"You're late."
You dip your head, but your patience is running on reserve, and your reply has more bite than you’d dare use otherwise. "I'm sorry, it looks like I’ve lost track of time."
"You're never late." Zayne doesn't sound any angrier at your attitude, but it still doesn't settle the guilt bubbling in your stomach.
"I've just been really stressed. You know," you wave your hand, "wrapping up residency."
"Is that so." Zayne's gaze is sharp as he fights to maintain eye contact. It's not a question. "I've noticed. You've been distracted and irritated recently, and I can't help but wonder why. Is it really the hospital? Am I demanding too much aside from your typical resident duties?”
You shake your head, and the guilt is back. "No, of course not."
"Then I have to assume it's something else, is it not?"
"It's..." How on earth are you supposed to explain that the reason why you're a mess is because your editor is pressuring you to write a smut scene that you have no interest in, let alone sufficient experience with? And to someone you admire, your mentor, Linkon’s top surgeon, and apparently now someone your heart is deciding to blackmail you with. "I'm sorry, Dr. Zayne. It's nothing work-related, it's not your problem to fix."
Zayne raises his eyebrow, leaning back in the booth and crossing his arms. “That’s the first time you addressed me as doctor outside of hospital property in over a month. ”
You really, really, can’t do this right now, or else you might start spewing some things you’ll regret. “Really? That’s fascinating, sir.” You watch him scowl at the title you know he hates. “Still does not entitle you to my personal issues.”
“As your mentor, it becomes entitled to me when your personal issues begin affecting your performance.” He says.
You bite the inside of your cheek, forcing your anger down. "It's really not something I can talk about here, nor to you. Can we just have a regular check-in?"
"We are."
“You know what?" You stand, chair falling back with a screech. “I think I need a rain check today, sir. You know. Stress.”
"You’re not leaving until you tell me what is bothering you."
You're about to grab your bag and walk away when you're suddenly reminded of how tall Zayne is when he stands. Practically towering over you, he leans across the table, grabbing you firm enough to prevent you from slipping away, yet never harsh enough to harm you. “Please, we’re making a scene.”
You sit. Zayne follows.
Seeing just how reactive you’re being, he softens, genuine concern in his tone as he reaches an arm out. “Is it a family issue? Are you alright?”
“No. Yes.” You inhale deeply through your nose, but your mind is still reeling at a mile a minute. “No, it’s not a family issue.”
“So if it’s not about the hospital and not family, then what could possibly be causing you this much stress.” Zayne’s eyes narrow and you see his jaw tick. “Don’t tell me this foolishness is over a boy.”
“No! God,” you want to push yourself off a building. Or him. “No, it’s this fucking–” You’re rambling. You’re rambling, losing control, and you’re going to blurt it out and regret it. “It’s this smut scene!”
You’ve really outdone yourself this time.
Zayne chokes on his drink and slams the cup down, coughing as liquid comes out his nose. You flounder in panic, trying to help but he holds a hand up and turns, still coughing into his arm. You can only manage to pull out a few napkins, handing them over in a pathetic bundle.
“A…” Zayne almost seems to buffer, clearing his throat before looking back at you. “An erotica scene?”
Your face is burning. You can practically feel the heat radiating off of it in waves, and you have to remind yourself that writing is your job. A respectable, decent-paying, well-appreciated job that you do for the sake of womankind everywhere.
“I write for extra income alongside residency, and recently my editor got it into her head that we’ll sell even more with some extra spice.” You scoff, “But it’s been months of looking at a blank doc. Now the deadline is approaching and I still have nothing to show for it.”
Zayne doesn't say anything for a moment, and you have to check if he's breathing, or if the shock has killed him. Finally, he shifts back in his seat, adjusting his tie.
"That sounds like a difficult position to be in, doctor."
You look up, and Zayne has his arms crossed. It's an expression you're familiar with, one that means he's actually thinking about what you've said, but the way he says "doctor" now feels strange, almost as if the term has no place here.
"It's fine, I'll figure it out." This is also why you didn't want to tell him, as if Zayne has any place worrying about this on your behalf. “Besides, I’m as much a writer as a doctor, this is my job after all. I have to figure it out.”
“Of course. I’d expect no less." Zayne nods a little to himself, slightly dazed, and you scramble to find a way to change the subject back into something even remotely work-appropriate.
"Anyway, I've been keeping up with my rounds, and I think I've been able to handle more cases on my own recently, too."
"You have."
Zayne is quiet for a beat too long and you frown, tapping the table.
"Are you alright? I know this is a lot, I shouldn't have burdened you with it."
When Zayne faces you again, you watch as his brows furrow. "But if this is such a pressing issue…” He clears his throat, looking at a spot directly above your head. “Then, what if I helped you?”
You swear your head is spinning, his words ringing over and over and over in your mind. The only thing remotely in focus was Zayne’s face, far too close for comfort now, even across the table. Oh gods, you’re having this conversation in public, too.
"What do you mean by help, exactly?"
"If you’re in need of experience," Zayne's voice is low, but he still manages to keep eye contact, the intensity of it making you smile nervously. "Then I could offer my assistance. Better coming from someone you know and trust, yes?"
There’s no way you heard that right. Your mind blanks, but apparently your smartass mouth hasn’t.
"Are you offering to be my fuck buddy? Sex consultant? My smut guide, if you will?"
A deadpan, “I would prefer the term sexual partner.”
Even the way Zayne says it makes it sound more like a business proposal than an actual proposition, and it throws you off guard. He leans back, trying to act nonchalant. "You did mention lack of inspiration was your main issue, correct?”
“Well, yes.” That, and your lack of any novel-worthy sexual experiences.
“And you have had—“ There it is again. Not quite embarrassment, and if you weren’t so tuned in to Zayne’s resting expression, you may not have noticed it, but there is a deeper furrow between his brows as his eyes evade yours, and the slightest tint of pink on the tips of his ears. “You have been with partners before, yes?”
The stoic, pragmatic, level-headed Doctor Zayne is embarrassed asking you whether or not you’ve had sex before.
You nearly laugh.
“Yes,” an amused giggle escapes you at the absurdity of this entire conversation. “I’ve been with partners,” you mimic, slightly mocking his word choice, “but it has been a while, and I haven’t really…”
Zayne moves to take another sip of coffee. “You haven’t?”
“I’ve never come. Orgasmed.”
And he chokes. Again.
“Oh, shit, I’m so sorry!” You jump from your seat to hand him yet another pile of napkins, but this time Zayne stops you halfway there, grabbing your wrist as his coughs subside.
Neither of you speaks as he drinks water and coughs once more, his grip still iron and far colder than you imagined it would feel against your bare skin.
“My apologies,” Zayne releases you immediately, going back to staring at his coffee as his hand flexes once. Twice. “Continue.”
You can only watch him in fascination, sitting back down in your chair. The entire time he avoided eye contact, and he was definitely blushing. You almost wanted to push further, to poke and tease and test his reactions, but you knew that would end with you losing your head. Or worse, you muse, heart fluttering against your chest.
“Ah, I mean, I’ve felt pleasure before. It’s not that my previous partners were unwilling to do stuff for me, I’ve just never gotten over that little plateau.” It’s not resentment that washes over you, and not quite embarrassment either. Just a little bit of dull apathy towards the subject. And yourself. “Biologically speaking of course I know it’s possible, but there are also plenty of women who simply don’t climax during sex. I’m probably just one of them.”
Zayne, who seems to have returned to his usual stoicism, frowns at that, mouth drawn taut as though he wanted to say something.
"And if we were to engage in sexual acts," He's so clinical, even as he says something that could send anyone else running. “Perhaps that is what you need to start writing again. It would make sense. To write a compelling,” he stumbles over the word, “erotica, you’d have to experience pleasure."
The gears in your mind turn, and slowly, it begins to make a twisted sort of sense. You'd have to feel it for yourself, to be able to describe the sensation, the passion, the tension with conviction. Perhaps it really would get you closer to finishing this damn book.
But then you remember who you're talking to. Doctor Zayne. Your coworker. Worse than that, your mentor and direct superior in your field, and someone you happen to admire very much. So then why would he…?
"What do you gain from this, Zayne?"
Zayne stiffens. “I’m a doctor, it’s my duty to help my patients.”
A sly smile cracks against your lips, and you prop your chin against your palm. “I didn’t realize I was your patient now, doctor?”
His eyes snap back to yours and he straightens, his demeanor slipping back to his typical formality. "You have a bright future in front of you. This is an investment in you, and I believe this will help us both. I will draw up a contract tomorrow for us to discuss, you can meet me in my office after your shift.”
“Rather formal,” you say, but Zayne doesn’t take the bait this time.
He simply takes another sip from his coffee, and you swear you catch him smiling behind the porcelain rim. “Then perhaps I could also get a signed copy of your next book?"
You scoff, waving him off as you slouch back in your chair. "Of course, I'll throw one in the mail the day it's out."
"It's a deal then.”
He’s about to push in his chair when you lunge from yours, grabbing his sleeve as his eyes widen slightly, looking down at where your hands meet. "Thank you,” a smile. ”Zayne."
His gaze softens and he smiles a bit, nodding. "Of course, doctor."
And with a wave, he's gone.
_______
You don’t know what you expected.
Zayne seemed like the type to take his girl out to dinner first, probably somewhere obscenely expensive. He’d show up with a single rose or another simple but romantic gift so seemingly contradictory to his outward appearance. Afterward, maybe he’d take her to a show or somewhere with fancy sweets, knowing his taste. Then, after all that, he’d invite her back to his apartment or allow her to whisk him away to her place.
You’d imagine it would go something like that. But then again, the terms of your relationship are quite different then the one he’d have with this imaginary woman. So when he texts you after your shift that Tuesday asking if you’re free tonight, you’re only moderately panicked.
To make matters worse, he’s at your house five minutes early.
Two knocks, and you scramble to open the door, Zayne nearly dwarfing the door frame as he lingers outside the hallway. His trenchcoat only adds to his natural tendency to command attention, and you feel more vulnerable than usual in your sleep clothes.
“Fancy seeing you here, stranger.”
Zayne adjusts his collar. “Do you mind if I come in?”
You tap your chin, pretending to mull it over in your mind, relishing in the slight nervousness your silence instills in Zayne. “It would be rather bothersome to fuck in the hallway, I suppose…”
Zayne shakes his head at the remark, but you can see amusement dancing in his eyes. With that, you step aside, and he ducks under the doorframe to slip inside. It’s as though something irreversible- something inevitable- shifts as you watch him cross the threshold, and it doesn't get better when you close the door and lock it behind him.
You'd say he makes himself at home, but his stance is still too stiff, too awkward, even as he’s hanging his coat and slipping out of his shoes. It almost feels domestic.
"Would you like something to drink?"
Zayne shakes his head, "Not this time."
He says it so casually, and yet the notion of a next time has you dizzy. Of course there’s a next time, you’ll need more than one night to get inspiration. It was only a natural assumption, you reason with yourself.
"You seem tense," he says, and then your back is against the wall.
Zayne leans down, hovering above you as his hand comes up to your waist. A tentative touch, and you give a small nod, feeling his arm relax, palm sliding further into the plush of your hips. He looks so good like this, in a work button-down with a thin sheen of sweat on his brow and his lips parted. Gods, and he’s not even trying- there’s genuine concern written in the way he scans your body with a deep crease between his brows. You hope he doesn’t notice how you squeeze your thighs tighter.
"It's the deadline, is all," you say, trying to brush off the question.
"Ah, of course. How inconsiderate of me. I’m supposed to be helping you and here I am making it worse.”
Zayne's voice is low and smooth. The cadence in his words, the slight drawl, is a sound that makes your heart skip a beat. It's a shame it's so easy to hide your arousal when you're this nervous.
“Well,” You smile, and his gaze flickers down to your mouth. “I suppose I can forgive you if you uphold your end of the deal.”
His stare is heavy, and it feels like the room is closing in. But you understand the man well enough to know that he wouldn’t dare move first, not until you asked for it, not when you have yet to set a precedent. So you loop your arms around his neck, forcing Zayne closer as his forearm slams against the wall to hold himself up against you.
You nip at the lobe of his ear, smiling to yourself as he shivers with each warm exhale. Zayne’s hand has yet to leave your side while he lets you grind against him, guiding your movements as you groan against his neck.
But Zayne feels you rush through the movements, a messy sort of impatience less from desire and more from routine. As though you wanted this done. As though you wanted him gone.
You feel a familiar flutter against your core as Zayne’s knee comes up against your core, but when you move to grind against his thigh, the hand at your waist stops you.
“I want to do this properly. You deserve—” he cuts himself off. Starts over. “Where would you like to do this?”
You’re about to tell him that right here is fine, not wanting Zayne to feel as though you needed any more special attention, when you realize just how serious he is. “Bedroom," you say.
Zayne hums, and the rumble reverberates throughout his chest. He offers a hand, and you take it.
And with that, you lead him to your room.
Somewhere between the span of your hallway and bed, Zayne seems to have decided how tonight will go. Despite your desperate touches, teasing up his body and luring him closer, Zayne slows his own pace, leaving burning trails traced with agonizing slowness over the curves of your body. Despite your fumbling to strip off your shirt, Zayne grabs your wrist, forcing it behind your back as his other hand teases the exposed skin of your ribs in a way that has you shivering. Despite your hushed complaints for him to just hurry up Zayne merely smiles in amusement, refusing to give you anything more as he scolds you with a click of his tongue.
Zayne refuses to rush this. He wants to savor every moment, to etch the sight of you into his mind and commit it to memory, to relive it in this life and the next.
He continues walking forward, each one forcing you to take a step back until your knees hit your bed, buckling as his form looms over you.
“The largest mistake in any relationship- sexual or not- is lack of communication.” He loosens his tie, “So if we are to do this, you have to talk to me. Tell me what you like, what you don’t.”
As he speaks, Zayne continues undressing, unbuttoning the top few buttons on his shirt before rolling up the cuffs so every glorious inch of his forearms is exposed. Your breath catches with each trailing vein, shadowed in the dim lighting up until they disappear under his sleeves.
Maybe you should write a Victorian-era piece next. Clearly, you had a thing for small swaths of exposed skin.
As if hearing your thoughts, Zayne undoes another button before his hands venture south. With a slow, deliberate motion, he unbuckles his expensive leather belt and allows it to slide through the loops of his pants. It drops to the floor, joining all the other articles of clothing as he takes a seat on the mattress, resting his hand on your bare thigh, inching closer and closer to where your sleep shorts have ridden up.
"Tell me what you like and don't like." Zayne repeats, eyes focused on yours, "And remember, you say no, and this stops."
Zayne moves painfully slow, his hands fluttering down your shoulders, breasts, hips, until he plants them behind you, caging you between his broad chest and the mattress. His hand slips under your shirt’s fabric once more, and you feel yourself tense.
You aren’t wearing anything fancy. After all, you were simply writing in bed, nearly falling off when you suddenly got Zayne’s text. Only a pair of shorts and a cami, but gods, when Zayne’s hands begin trailing up your stomach, dragging the thin fabric up with him, you really wished you put something sexier on.
He doesn't stop until his fingertips brush against the underwire of your bra, thick fingers slipping under the band as he practically tugs you toward him. "Can you take this off for me?"
"Don't know how to do it yourself?" You tease.
Before you even finish taunting him, Zayne's hand has already snuck around your back, undoing the clasp and forcing you onto your back. You can feel the heat radiating off of him.
"Now, now, we'll be here all night if we start fighting." He chastises you, tone far too smug. Zayne tugs the undone bra up, his fingers tracing the red marks it left against your skin. You tremble under his touch. "Didn't realize how sensitive you are."
His tone is even, but you can see the slight curl at the corner of his lips.
"Your hands are cold," you say, voice wavering as Zayne begins taking your shirt off as well. You try not to fidget, knowing that the way your arms are held up only emphasizes the size difference, Zayne being able to completely lift your chest against him as the other binds your wrists. You're not tiny. But next to him? It barely mattered.
"I apologize." But it feels half hearted at best, especially with the way he’s staring at your bare chest, not even bothering to take your shirt all the way off. It almost feels more embarrassing like this, cotton bunched against your collarbones under his palms.
“I’m going to touch you now, okay?”
The way he says it causes a rush of blood to your face. “I’m not some virgin that might break.” You grumble under your breath, but Zayne is as stupidly attentive as always and frowns.
“Do not mistake my care for pity.”
Something ugly aches in your chest when he looks at you like that.
Zayne’s hand comes up, large enough to encircle the entirety of your cheek as you’re enveloped in the chill of his touch. His body is nearly atop yours, each word breathed into your mouth. “Then, if you have no more snarky remarks, allow me to begin."
Zayne’s gaze drops to where he thumbs at your lips, leaning in as you watch his pupils dilate, flickering with something before he flinches away, kissing the corner of your mouth instead.
His other hand cups the curve of your breast, leaving goosebumps in its wake. You gasp, the sensation heightened by the feeling of his teeth against your collarbone, nipping marks into your skin.
It takes a moment for all his featherlight touches to register, your eyes fluttering closed as his thumb rubs your chin. You try to ignore the way he avoids your lips, refusing to get too close.
All for the better, you remind yourself.
He kisses lower, down between the valley between your breasts, hot breath the only warning you get before his tongue meets your nipple while his fingers deliver a sharp flick to the other. The contrast of the heat from his mouth to the cold of his fingertips sends you reeling as you muffle your cries into your palm.
Zayne doesn’t like that. He forces your hand from your mouth, biting your nipple as if in vengeance as you moan, the sound broken and desperate as you claw at his forearm.
Satisfied, his tongue smooths over the bright pink bite mark and swollen bud, the unpredictable pressure fogging up your every thought before he retreats with a wet pop.
Finally, Zayne moves to fully remove your shirt, but pauses when you flinch.
“Would it make you more comfortable if I undressed as well?” Zayne begins to take off his own shirt, but you lunge for him, stopping his hands as your voice escapes in a whoosh.
“No.”
His collared shirt was utterly ruined, unbuttoned just enough so you could see his flushed chest when he bent over. And now when he sat up straight the bottom rose up just a bit, exposing a stretch of his lean torso, a peak of his abs, and a dark happy trail that dipped into his tailored pants. Every once in a while, you could see his muscles flex and it sent a shameful throbbing down your core.
“You can keep it like that, it’s hot.”
Zayne doesn’t respond, but when he averts his eyes you swear you watch his lips curl into a smirk. It’s gone by the time he looks at you. Not that you have any time to dwell on it, not when Zayne closes the remaining space between you, guiding you against the pillows.
You try not to focus on how out of place he seems in your apartment, mere presence dwarfing everything else as he makes his way between you, forcing your knees apart.
Zayne leans back, his fingers trailing up your leg, edging up the fabric of your shorts up with his touch, but never daring to slip past the self-imposed barrier of the cotton. He coaxes your hips up, and you kick the shorts off in a clumsy movement, Zayne's eyes now focused between your thighs before you snap them shut as best you can around his waist.
“Let me see.”
You gape at him. “I– Doctor–”
“Relax. I can’t guide you if you don’t let me, now open.”
It’s not an order. Not quite. Zayne’s voice is effortlessly assertive, but it falls just short of being a command. You could call this off, he’s told you that much directly, and knowing Zayne if you did so everything would go right back to how it was before. A mentor and student. Coworkers. Strangers.
You force the tremors in your thighs to relax, knees dropping from Zayne’s hips to the sheets below as you move your left leg just enough to feel the inner band of your underwear stretch.
It’s a bearable amount of embarrassment and vulnerability, until you look up at Zayne again, and akin to a deer in headlights, you freeze. He watches with enough intensity for it to be clinical, a vicious sort of attentiveness that sees every twitch, every strain your body responds with, as if committing it all to memory. As if he were to devour you alive.
You think you’d let him.
Zayne reaches over, and his thick finger trails a line up your inner thigh, immediately followed by goosebumps, knuckles ghosting the inner seam of your panties.
Your body reacts before you do. Before you can even breathe, the air catches in your throat, and your legs squeeze together in a pathetic attempt to hide yourself.
Zayne pins them down immediately, gaze snapping up to you. You expect a reprimand. Maybe a warning or a punishment, and the anticipation makes your stomach twist.
Instead, his brows draw in, as if lost in thought. “You said you never came from touching yourself either?”
You can barely manage a nod.
“Hm. Then you weren’t doing it right.” He says, so bluntly that you can only blink at him. “Show me how you do it.”
Zayne sits back between your thighs, one hand still absent-mindedly caressing your knee, waiting expectantly.
And you feel the flush burn all the way up your ears and down your chest.
Oh, that was not what you expected him to say. You were prepared for him to touch you, or to guide you, but instead he asks for the complete opposite.
And, well, you could only ever try your best for him— ever the people pleaser.
It's humiliating how easily your fingers slip under the elastic band. Even more so when the pads of your fingers run down your folds, and you feel yourself clench at the mere contact, already slick and wanting. You move to tug your underwear off, but Zayne stops you, grabbing at your wrist.
"Wait," He's panting, eyes blown as he continues to stare at you, at the wet patch accumulating in the center of those damned panties. "Keep them on."
His tone is so serious a part of you wants to laugh. You're about to make a quip when he pulls your hand up, bringing your fingers to his lips and wrapping his tongue around them. The way he teases from the pad of your finger to your knuckle, sucking as he goes, has you lightheaded. Your hips stutter upwards, a pitiful sound escaping from your throat as you try to keep yourself together.
He doesn't stop. Not until your fingers are clean and your thighs have grown unbearably sticky, neglected and throbbing.
When he finally lets go, you're a gasping mess, and Zayne looks downright smug. "Now, you can continue."
The bastard.
You don't know how you manage to move, let alone bring your fingers to your entrance.
Pushing aside the cotton, your first touch is tentative, and you flush at how much easier it is with Zayne’s spit covering them. Your breath catches both from the initial stretch and the way Zayne leans in closer to see, even though the thin elastic prevents him from watching the way your cunt flutters around the new intrusion.
You shift, but your need has grown nearly uncomfortable, hips beginning to buck up as one finger quickly becomes too little, and you whine as you attempt to push in another, to push in a little deeper.
"Slower. You're going too fast."
You can't help the scowl, your tone sharper than intended. “How would you know?"
Zayne’s face is a cool mask, the corners of his lips twitching with amusement. "You did ask me for advice, did you not?" Then his voice takes on a sharper edge, demanding again. "Slow down, then you may continue."
As if you needed his permission to continue. But you do as he says, rocking your fingers in and out, pace painfully slow, mere friction sending jolts of heat throughout you.
Usually, this was the best part, the delicious and tortuous build-up that would ultimately lead to nothing. Not nearly long enough, your fingers hit just below your sweet spot, and you could feel tears of frustration prick against your eyes. Writhing, you tried to plunge further, choking out a moan again and again at the barest brushing against your sweet spot, mindlessly grinding your hips up to meet each cruel thrust of your fingers.
You cry when you finally hit that spot inside you, head falling against the pillows as you tense, about to move again when something stops your hand, ripping it away from your desperate chase.
“You–“ Zayne shakes his head, breath ragged as some combination of a frustrated exhale and moan rumbles through his chest, the sound going straight to your cunt. “You’re too impatient. Too rough.”
You try to swallow, try to hide how the sound of his moan and the rough cadence of his voice makes the muscles of your belly and thighs spasm, but Zayne doesn't miss a thing. He doesn't release your hand, not fully, but rather guides both of your digits to trace around your clit instead.
"Again," he says, “This time slower. How does it feel?”
You close your eyes, taking a deep breath as you feel his hand continue to guide yours, entire body jolting when he catches against the hood of your oversensitive clit, tapping as he lets you circle it on your own.
“Good. It feels really good.”
Zayne hums, but he already knows that. He feels it through the drenched bottoms of your panties, rubbing your poor swollen clit through them, watching as you gush again, the slick coating his palm and dripping down his wrist in sticky strands.
It takes everything within him not to withdraw his hand and lick it all. Or even better, take his mouth to you directly. Not yet. Not yet, he reminds himself. Next time.
You have to bite your lip as you feel Zayne’s hand take over your own, almost greedily pushing and pinching your clothed cunt, the fabric both a delicious friction and a damn barrier you wish was gone so you could finally feel his bare fingers on you, in you. It’s torture, every nerve on fire as Zayne continues to focus on your clit while your fingers return against your folds, teasing your entrance with a light touch before pressing in.
But it's still not enough. It's not what you need.
You look to Zayne for direction, but his expression is unreadable in the darkness. "Deeper. Keep going."
The angle isn't quite right, but you do as he says, trying and failing to muffle your sounds as you fuck yourself on your fingers, desperately chasing the feeling building up once more.
“Again. Deeper.”
It hurts. Your wrist is beginning to ache, and you’re really not sure how much longer you can keep going, crying out again when Zayne forces his hand flat against your clothed core, shoving your own fingers deeper and causing the wet fabric to rub deliciously against your clit.
You don't even have time to react before he's pulling away, his own hand rubbing the wetness on his fingers together as he watches the strands break and drip down his hand.
His tone is so nonchalant despite the way he keeps his gaze trained between your legs. As if the sight of you, flushed and gasping, with your cunt pathetically leaking and yet still demanding more, wasn't the hottest thing he'd ever seen.
“Ask,” Zayne demands, his voice deep enough that you swear you can feel it rumbling through your bones. “Ask for it.”
“Need your help, please, Zayne” you manage, voice airy and heart still racing from unintentionally edging yourself over and over again. “I want your fingers.”
It’s probably impossible to miss the way your eyes have been drawn to his hands all evening, big and corded with veins and muscle and scar tissue. Hands gentle enough to care for patients, steady enough to perform surgeries, cruel enough to tease you this mercilessly, and yet you can’t help but imagine what they’re going to feel like when he starts touching you properly.
You’ve probably thought about his hands more times than you’d like to admit.
At the hospital, at the cafe, at night in your apartment. Every inch of his body seems to haunt you like a forgotten memory your body had already grown addicted to.
The moan that rumbles out of Zayne’s chest is low and addicting. He sits back for only a moment before your hips are dragged down the bed, a yelp leaving your lips from the sheer force.
Zayne practically knocks your leg over his shoulder, and when you arch off balance, you press against something that has you inhaling sharply through your nose. Fuck, Zayne’s hard.
He shudders violently at the contact, falling onto his forearms as you roll against him once more, watching his face twist from the painful pleasure you know all too well. You feel his control slipping, both in the way his fingers tighten at your hips and the throbbing heat you feel twitch against your thigh.
And just realizing how much you’ve affected him is enough to send your eyes rolling back into your skull with a violent tremor.
You attempt to grind up against him again when Zayne roughly pins you back down. You writhe helplessly, hips pinned to the mattress as Zayne curses, adjusting himself in his slacks with a rough squeeze. “No.” A command to both himself and you, “You asked for my fingers, so that’s what you will get.”
You’re about to open your mouth to make another demand, but Zayne is one step ahead of you yet again. “That’s all you’re getting.” As if to quell your anger, he begins to thumb at your clit again, moving to take off your last remaining piece of clothing. “Next time.”
A promise he has every intention to keep.
Ironically, Zayne is handling you far more gently than you usually touch yourself, and you find yourself flexing your hips in an attempt to get him to touch you with more pressure. He ignores your endeavors, keeping his pace implacably steady and slow. But you’ve been worked up far too long, and as soon as Zayne begins fucking you with two of his much thicker fingers, you already feel the familiar tension building.
“Do you want to tell me what you’re feeling?”
“Not really,” you manage through clenched teeth.
You feel Zayne pull away and thrust your hips up into nothingness, only making yourself more sensitive when he roughly thumbs at your clit. He slams your hips back down, a cruel pinch to the oversensitive nub forcing you to arch into him as your jaw falls slack.
“That was not a question.” Zayne is still hovering above you, watching as his fingers slip against your cunt, slick with your arousal. “Use your words.”
His voice takes a dark edge every time he commands you now, and you bite your lip to not whimper at the tremor his voice sends down your skin. It’s not fair, the effect something so simple has on you. But while his demand is still ringing in your ears, Zayne curls his fingers further upwards, rubbing directly against that sweet spot inside you with frustrating ease, and you sob.
"Please,” you can’t even remember to beg. Zayne nearly abuses the spot, curling into it over and over again until you’re certain you’re drooling all over the silk of your pillow, writhing. "Please, I'm– I need more, and, ah—“
Zayne hums. "More? You're going to have to be more specific if you actually want to orgasm."
You whine, shaking your head as his eyes narrow. He’s only halfway through scolding you when his finger smacks against your clit, the sharp twinge of pain enough to make you cry. "Don't be a child. Words. Tell me what's giving you pleasure so I can help you."
"It's," a huff of air leaves you and you can barely manage to form a coherent sentence, your mind fogging over completely as Zayne continues to talk. "Hah, your voice helps.”
“My voice?”
Your eyes nearly roll back at the sound of Zayne’s chuckle. A deep, cruel thing that you now think may be all you need to come as your eyes screwed shut. “Well, if that’s the case, then I suppose I should just keep talking. Keep your eyes open.”
You obey, and Zayne simultaneously pulls your jaw towards him, forcing you face-to-face with him. “Look at me.”
You do. You do and really wish you hadn’t because the smug smile pulling at the corner of his lips and the freckles of light green you now see in his softened gray eyes might really be all you need to send yourself over the edge.
And, as if listening, Zayne forces his fingers deeper inside, the tips of his digits hitting the same spot that has your mind fogging over, vision blurring with a disorienting mix of hazy and dizzy. You can barely hold on, fingers twitching against the sheets as suddenly it becomes too much, your hands shooting up as you press desperately against Zayne’s chest.
“Wait–” You’re dizzy. The pressure is consuming you, and you’re losing control. “Please, Zayne.”
He stops immediately, pliant under your touch as he lets you push him away. Even so, his free hand comes up to meet yours, coaxing your fingers against his as he holds it up to his chest, letting you ground yourself with his heartbeat.
The rhythm is comforting.
Zayne isn’t speaking anymore, just looking, waiting for you to give him a sign. He doesn’t dare move, letting his fingers sit still, buried inside of you. You don't know if it's the dizziness lingering in your head or the fact that his fingers are insistently rubbing against a spot inside of you that sends sparks up your spine, but either way, you might be going insane.
“Keep your breathing steady, even when you’re close. Deep breaths.” In, out. In, out. Your chest rises as Zayne’s does, bare skin brushing his. “Good.”
Even as your vision clears, Zayne refuses to let go of your hand, this time pinning it beside your head as he begins to move his other hand too, thumb circling your clit as the others curl against your walls.
When you begin to shake again, his lips ghost by your neck, dangerously soft and hesitant as he kisses down from your jaw, following each whimper and moan you give to him with loyal intent, sucking gently at a spot near your jugular and collarbone.
"Ah, Zayne. I think–" your breathing hitches as Zayne presses another soft kiss against your skin.
"Are you okay?" The softness of his tone nearly breaks you, and you force yourself to ignore it. Focus on the sensations; focus on what you can use for the novel. Nothing more.
You nod.
"What else, darling? Are you close?"
Your breath hitches. The sudden pet name has you reeling, and you feel Zayne keep his steady rhythm, even through your trembling and whining, his thumb mercilessly circling against your clit in ways you swear never feel the same when you’ve done it.
"Call me that again," you cry, nearly begging.
"Come. Come for me, darling."
And you do.
Your vision blurs as you come around Zayne’s fingers, a silent scream catching in your throat. All you can manage is a broken moan as you arch into him, gripping his forearm and holding it in place. Your thighs quiver around his arm, and Zayne holds you still, coaxing you through it as wave after wave of pleasure wash over you.
The sensation is overwhelming. You're not even sure how long it lasts, the only thing grounding you is the weight of Zayne's hand laced against your own.
Slowly, he begins to withdraw his fingers, kissing your knuckles softly.
"How are you feeling?"
The room is quiet, and it feels like all the sound has been sucked out of it. Your head is fuzzy and your whole body is tingling, and all you can focus on is Zayne's soft breathing.
Good, you want to tell him. More than that, your body is still shaking from pleasure and desire, and you can’t stop looking at Zayne’s lips or remembering how hot and needy he felt grinding against your thigh. You can’t stop thinking about him, so instead you say, “Fine.”
Zayne stiffens. “Good.”
He sits up, still scanning your face for something as you watch the fabric of his shirt pull taut across his chest and stomach, and once again you are overwhelmed by the desire to run your hands down his body, to feel his skin against yours. To see more of him.
“I’m going to get you water and a towel.” He says, not moving just yet. “Do you need anything else?”
You shake your head no. Zayne nods, leaning in as his hand goes to your jaw before he pauses halfway and steps out of bed, making his way to your bathroom.
You don’t really remember how much of the night goes by after that, a blur of Zayne attentively guiding you through proper aftercare and you throwing in a few quips here and there at his ceaseless worrying. Before long, he’s saying farewell, and you’re back at your computer screen, empty doc staring right back at you.
But the words never form. Not when your head is still spinning, replaying everything that happened tonight in vivid flashbacks as an overwhelming rush of mortification and desire runs down your spine.
You can’t help but feel that perhaps you just made an irreversible mistake.
And notice the potato doesn’t guilt you with “if you don’t, something horrible will happen.” Potato wouldn’t betray you like that, because potato is a refined person of good humor and character, and understands that, sometimes, a visit to your dashboard just isn’t convenient right now. Sometimes you just went on a fandom gif reblogging spree or your energy is low, you do not have the time to make your dashboard suitable to guests, and a polite visit just isn’t in the cards. Potato understands this, and doesn’t get upset, or gods forbid, throws a tantrum and wishes ill on your household. Instead, Potato merely stores away their blessings for a later visit and leaves as a good friend should.
What it's like to take König's virginity. MDNI 18+
You were both careless, idiotic idiots. König was inching closer towards his thirties and through his drunkenness, he stupidly admitted to being a virgin. His eyes were half-lidded, his eyelids heavy as he gazed at you, palming his hard bulge that formed all because of your naughty teasing.
“Scheisse... Look what you've done, Liebling.” he heaved out and gasped as he jerked his hips skyward into nothing, fantasising about the tightness and softness of your pussy. Sure, he has used a fleshlight in the past, but he was sure that you'd feel nothing like the toy. He craved something realistic, your gumny and sticky walls clamping down around his shaft.
You took matters into your own hands and had begun to tease with him, playing around with him as if he was a toy. At first, König gradually sunk into your soothing touch, the feeling of your pussy rubbing against his thigh and your lips against his bare neck. Although, König couldn't hold back the tightness and fullness in his balls, how his lengthy cock twitched and throbbed beneath your bodyweight when you would grind your backside against his bulge.
The sound of his heavy, uncontrollable breathing made you laugh, the effect you had on the poor bastard. When you attempted to pull away, König would dig his nails into your soft hips to pull you backwards against his lap. He didn't appreciate the way you'd taunt and mock him for being a virgin, despite being in his late twenties. But you couldn't help yourself, the thought of this large hunk of a man being too socially anxious and creepy to lose his virginity was laughable, and almost attractive. You wanted to be his first, and clearly König did too, as he pushed you down and rutted against your tight rear, pulling his dick from his boxers to slap against your hole.
He wasn't interested in being gentle, not after your relentless and cruel form of flirting. Using his bodyweight, he held you down and forced you onto your stomach, pinning both his dirty hands to your waist as he began to grind his tip against your tight cunt, slowly nudging inside the gummy and smooth warmth of your precious cunt.
“Godverdammt! Oh, fuck- you're painfully tight...” he let out at a sensation he wasn't familiar with, the pulsing sensation of your cunny. But fuck, he'd be lying if he said it wasn't addictive.
He felt almost justified in being rough with you after being bullied by you. A smaller thing, mocking the large, brute man for not losing his virginity... Most people would laugh at the sight, but it only riled König up. He would thrust deep into your walls, growling out hoarsely as he shut his eyes tightly, biting his bottom lip as a pathetic attempt at hiding the pleasure he was feeling. He was delirious as he collapsed atop of you and humped your ass, fucking his meaty, virgin cock into your slick, soft folds. How could he resist? Even after his first orgasm, he wouldn't stop. He couldn't.
I mean, the sight of your pussy covered in his creamy load was enough for him to come again. He would slam into your folds, bite deep into your neck, and whisper utter filth into your ear while you weeped blissfully, the stretch leaving you stupid and dizzy.
Looks like König will be making fun of you and what a cock drunk, horny slag you've become, all for his cock.
you've been assigned as the task force's new handler. but with a troublesome squad full of dog-hybrids that refuse to listen, you have to resort to working with them to get some good 1:1 bonding time. each member has their own unique skillset and training, and it's up to you to figure out what type of working dog you're with. even if you have to resort to some pretty... unconventional methods.
"The giant man is staring at you again," murmurs your co-worker, looking a bit worried.
You grin to yourself. "I know," you tell her. "He's always staring at me." Turning back to your work, you start stocking the shelf again, taking occasional glances over to where the man is leaning against the wall trying to pretend that he isn't watching you. Feeling confident today, when you finally catch his eye, you wink and smile flirtatiously. His own eyes widen in shock and he turns away slightly, staring at the floor. The next time you look up, he isn't there and you sigh, deciding that you must have pushed him away by being too forward.
Turning back to your shelf again, you yelp and stumble back, seeing nothing but a man's chest in front of you. When you look up, hand pressed to your pounding heart, you see the giant man looking down at you apologetically, practically ready to flee. "No, wait," you say, holding up your hand. "Sorry, I was just surprised." He hesitates, hands fidgeting as he seems to be trying to think of what to say. Before he can do much more than open his mouth, you speak up again. "Would you like to go on a date tomorrow night? Six o'clock?"
He stares at you for the longest time before nodding. "Yes, six o'clock," he says quietly before striding off, leaving you wondering how he will know where to pick you up. But really, you shouldn't worry. He's been following you home for months, after all.
𝔏𝔬𝔳𝔢 𝔄𝔱 𝔉𝔦𝔯𝔰𝔱 𝔅𝔦𝔱𝔢 @aerischuu - Tumblr Blog | Tumgag
