camie

I love lots of things 💕; kpop, anime, etc. I read lots of spicy/nonspicy stuff 😵‍💫😅. I was born in 2005. Let's have fun!

[everythingfox]

Gamer kitty

[lunarkyn]

law & f$%king order !

For a man like Hiromi, stress doesn't just evaporate when he leaves the firm building. It lingers, clinging to the broad of his shoulders like a curse- and you have the solution to all his problems.

notes. this is a rewrite of an old fic posted last year! figured since my style has changed a bit that it deserved a make-over, esp with higaruma's anime debut :P banner art is the lovely ila_meysu on twt!

pairing. hiromi higaruma x reader

word count. ~3k

c/w. nsfw. fem reader w/ fem anatomy. club environment, smoking. reader is a private escort. pretty much porn with plot. complicated relationships, casual sex. oral (fem receiving), unprotected piv, he's a little rough with you, breath play & headlocks. hiromi's kind of a bully. pet names (woman, variations of girl, baby), he has you call him "sir" once, he talks to the kitty a 'lil. pull-out method. aftercare.

What good was a lawyer if he couldn’t control himself in the courtroom?

Hiromi was supposed to be one of the best— hell, he’d even let the firm advertise him as such. Priding himself on taking the impossible and winning without a doubt.

Except he’d let himself be ruled by emotions. That fickle, needling irritation at the back of his neck when someone lied directly to his face? Yeah. It led to him snapping at his client, who by all means deserved it, but smeared his perception of himself nonetheless.

He can’t say that’s solely what led him here, but it certainly had its effects. Shoulders tight and tie crooked, he passes through the main threshold and immediately turns towards a darker hallway near the bar, instinct carrying him where his mind has long since checked out.

Maybe it wasn’t proper for him to see a past client in a club, disgraceful even to engage in a physical relationship with one. But recently, he just couldn’t find it in himself to care.

It felt good.

Who was he if not a simple man?

Not like he had someone to come home to anyways. Too busy for a girlfriend, too guarded for a wife. But you understood.

You, his ex-client-turned-hookup, a dazzling gem in the cesspit that was the Red Heel gentleman’s club. The building layout’s simple for what it is— stages at the front and center, bar off to the right. A hallway filled with paint-chipped doors and a flickering red bulb overhead.

And like always, you’d leaned in the threshold, never one to play innocent at what things were. He liked that about you. In the most cliche way of the phrase, you weren’t like the other girls that worked here. There wasn’t that faux innocence, the secret entitlement to what was in his wallet.

You were just a breath of fresh air for a man who’d been drowning for far too long.

“You look like shit,” you greet simply, looking him up and down. Brutally honest, just the way he likes it. 

“Long day,” he explains. And really, it was.

“Mm. I get it,” you nod. Stepping aside to let him into the private room, shutting the door behind him without offering more. Following him towards the maroon settee in the center of the room, you move to sit beside him, only for him to pull you directly into his lap, shoulder brushing his as you settle sideways, legs thrown over the cushions.

He’s not the kind of man to vent. That much became certain after the first few visits he’d given after your settlement was paid and the contract between you fizzled to a close when every prompt for more information was received with a low hum and a distraction.

Namely, a good smoke.

Procuring a carton and giving it a few good taps on the bottom, then pulling one gold-and-white cigarette from the sleeve. You light the stick with a familiar flick, cherry flame flickering once between you before settling into the tip and catching.

Immediately, his head tips forward, lips parting to accept without request. That was the dynamic between you. Comfortable silence rather than hollow conversation, filling the empty spaces with each other rather than words.

The stick bobs with his lips as he takes a long drag, long forefinger and thumb pinching at the end and pulling it away. You watch the line of his throat as he lets his head hang back, the rise of his broad chest as he lets the smoke linger deep within his lungs, the twin streams that push out from his nostrils as he exhales.

Who knew smoking could be so hot?

Heat builds low in your belly as you watch him take a few more drags, intuition telling you where this is going far before he’d expressed it. Sliding from his lap towards the floor, only to halt when his hands snap to either side of your waist.

“Not tonight,” he murmurs, low and raspy with the rumble of a fresh smoke. “Don’t need it.”

He maneuvers you back onto the settee, instead shifting positions until you are the one laying flat on the cushions, his tie coming undone to loop loosely at your wrists. Not even bothering to bind it properly, blotting the cigarette out in the ashtray before returning his attention to you.

Not that you weren’t already engraved somewhere in his mind already. 

Higaruma’s head ducks between your thighs, wide palms pushing your legs apart just enough to fit himself between them. His breath comes warm against the thin fabric covering your heated core, pressing the crooked bridge of his nose to your sex and sucking in gulps of your raw scent.

“Fuhhhhk,” he groans. Pushing himself into you until he’s nosing like an animal in heat, mouthing at the dampening fabric between you. Sparks tingle up your spine, hands coming to his combed hair and ruining the perfectly curated style. “Smells so fuckin’ good, woman.”

Your head falls back against the cushions, lips parting around breathy pants. Fingers knotted in his hair, hips grinding against his face as he muffles curses into your heat.

His thumb smears at the hem of the flimsy material, damp fabric clinging and glistening with arousal. “Missed this—missed you.”

Whether to you or your body, it didn’t matter. The words still speared through your nerves and lit every sense ablaze, heat coiling low despite hardly being touched.

“Hiro—”

Hooking his thumbpad beneath the cotton, he pulls the gusset aside, the crackling mewl you let out enough permission for him to move. His tongue laves in one long stripe from slit to clit, jaw dropping as he moans at the taste of you.

“Hahhhh, tastes even better,” he mumbles, licking and sucking in erratic bursts, tonguing your entrance. His voice muffles against you, thick and slurred. “Must’a missed me, y’er so fuckin’ soaked.”

“S-shut up,” you stutter, almost shy. He had that kind of effect— one that dismantled every wall and barrier until it was just pure, raw and unfiltered intimacy. “I’m trying to focus.”

His eyes flit up towards you at that, meeting yours. Head raising just enough to show the sharp cheekbones painted with your arousal and his spit, pupils black and large against brown irises.

“Tired of getting bossed around all day,” he murmurs, smearing the collected sap from his face with the back of his hand. You move to speak, only to halt when he continues. “I get nagged all day by clients, other lawyers,” Higaruma begins crawling back up towards you, one knee slotting between your legs. “and you certainly aren’t going to start now.”

His palms plant on either side of your head, fringe falling forward to hang above his brows. The first two buttons of his shirt are undone now, a faint dusting of hair covering the exposed skin. 

Your eyes slide down further, widening at the sight of the very noticeable, almost painful tent in his slacks. Settled firmly against the zipper, standing towards the edge of his belt and curved slightly to the left.

His hips nudge forward, knees planting into the cushions as he leans back. Long and thin fingers moving to his pants and palming himself, watching you as you watch him.

“You’re sure I can’t give a little head?” you question. It’s not even for him—though it was something he loved when you did it— but for you. He’d make the prettiest noises all from the pleasure he received, and if you fondled his balls a little, he’d whimper. 

“Not tonight,” he affirms, finally moving to undo the clasp and pull down the zipper, belt undone with a quick flick of his wrist, leaving the buckle dangling against a loop. Pushing down his slacks and boxers in one go, long cock freely bouncing. “Told you, it's been a long day.”

“I could make it better, though,” you insist, hands moving towards him, only for your wrists to be caught with one broad palm and collected, bound together with a single hand.

Higaruma tuts. “I know you could, but that’s not what I want right now.”

His free hand fits between your legs, fingers dragging through your folds to gather the slick and spit there, transferring it to the flushed head of his cock as he pumps himself a couple more times. Slapping the leaking tip against your clit, the corners of his lips twitch up in amusement when your hips jerk at the contact.

He does it a couple more times, mischief dancing in his eyes with every whine and wriggle you manage beneath him. Pre-cum smears from the divot across your puffy labia, glistening in the low light.

“Hiro.”

“Yeah, yeah..”

Feeding the head between your folds, his hand gently squeezes your wrists then releases them. Hips pushing forward, he notches himself and presses in. The stretch burns straight into pleasure, walls squeezing around every vein and molding to the shape of him as he slides to the hilt. 

“Fuck.”

Maybe not the time, but you tease him anyways—mainly to distract yourself from the absolute size he was stuffing into you. “Are you in?”

“Tch.”

His hands slide up the backs of your legs to your thighs, suddenly pushing until you’d been folded meanly into a press, knees damn near up to your ears. Drawing his hips back until the head of his cock caught in the first ring of muscle, then driving forward again with a wet thwack!

“Am I in?” he echoes, nearly warbling with the pitch he’d chosen to mimic. His cock drills into you with unerring precision, battering the crown against the rippled walls inside until you were mewling and grabbing for him. Smug, he rhetorically questions, “Dunno, am I? Can you tell yet?”

“Yes, yes—”

“Mm, I don’t think I can hear you clearly,” he interrupts, expertly ducking back to swing both your legs over to one side, then crowding forward again. His balls smack wetly against your ass with every thrust, shared arousal smearing between you until the sound echoed in the small room. “Try again.”

“Yes, shiiiittt…”

He blows a breath against the side of your face like a bull huffing, brows scrunched tight. 

“No, I don’t think that was right,” Higaruma says slowly, hands encompassing the sides of your hips and dragging you back onto him. He manhandles you without question, without thought. It’s just raw, carnal sex, thoughtless and blissful in its ease. “You forgot something.”

It’s hard to focus when he’s fucking you so good. Every flutter of your sensitive walls milks his length, coating him in glistening sap that spatters with the forceful contact of his hips against your ass. 

“What—huh?” you sputter. Speaking your thoughts, “What am I fuh–forgetting?”

“You should address me properly, shouldn’t you?” Higaruma tuts. “I thought my favorite girl had some manners. Guess I should stop, since you can’t properly address me anymore.”

“N-No!”

“No?”

“No, sir,” you amend, cunt squeezing tight around him. He hisses in reaction, fingertips pressing hard enough into your skin to dimple imprints of his touch. Adding on a hopeful, breathy, “Please.”

Higarua hums, seemingly satisfied. “Atta girl.”

Only to pull you back against him once again, hauling you up and over until your forearms instinctively met the cushion, somehow managing to put you on your hands and knees with little to no exertion. 

Slipping his hand beneath your hips, his fingertips fumble before finding their place at your clit, swirling the sticky pre-cum around the pearl until your thighs quivered. His chest meets your back, chin hooking over your shoulder as he meanly bullies himself an impossible inch deeper.

“Tell me you missed me,” he murmurs into your ear, low and raspy. “‘Cause I know this pretty cunt missed me. You hear how she’s talkin’ back?”

Your lips part around a moan, dumbly hanging open. A thin string of drool dribbles over the plump flesh, trailing down your chin.

He continues, regardless of your answer. “Yeah, I hear her. She’s sayin’ she missed benign stuffed full of a real man’s cock. Squeezing me like she’s gonna break me— you gonna cum on me? Cum on this fat dick?”

Sparks fly up your spine, walls clenching down involuntarily at the way he’s just using you like a sleeve, the combination of his fingers and his length drilling into you pushing you over the edge before you could even warn him.

Your orgasm crashes over you in a tidal wave, creamy release gushing around him and slicking the heavy stretch of him in glistening pulses, strings sticking to his balls.

“Yeahh, there it is,” Higaruma pants, one arm banding around your throat until he had you in a headlock, pulling you back until you were both upright, his hips still pumping up into you. “That’s my girl.”

If there was anything to say about Hiromi, it was that he fucked like he was in court under the highest stakes. Driving himself into you with enough force to rock you forward, the white sleeve of his button-down bunching at the elbow where your throat presses.

He flexes slightly, just enough to put pressure on your breathing before easing off, repeating the same gesture. Drunk on the feeling of you, he babbles, “Filthy fucking girl. Love this pussy. Wanna cum in it so fucking bad, baby.”

“Please,” you whimper, tears budding at the corners of your eyes from the way he’s working your oversensitive cunt and clit. It didn’t matter if you knew what you were begging for, he’d always give you exactly what you needed.

“Yeah?” he hums behind you, crooked nose bumping your ear, He nips at the lobe, tugging gently before releasing it. “Gonna give it to you then, if that’s what you want.”

His knee nudges yours a slight bit further apart, torso bending forward until he’d crowded you forward and changed the angle to drive even further. Bicep flexing just enough to cut your air off as he chases your second orgasm, lungs restricting until your mind goes fuzzy at the edges, easing his grip off just as you gasp out, gushing around him for a second time.

“Gotta pull out,” Higaruma pants, his face dropping to the crook of your shoulder, holding out just long enough for your aftershocks to face before he lets you lean forward, one hand fixing itself on your hip as the other moves between you. “Fuck, don’t squeeze—”

At the last second, he pulls out, barely able to wrap his fingers around himself and pump before ropes of thick milky cum erupted from his divot, painting your ass. His hips jerk forward into his own palm, letting off a string of rumbling curses and groans as he works himself through it.

Bent forward, you finally catch your breath, stray hairs sticking to your skin from the exertion of the night. Letting him pull away for a moment, cheek resting on your forearms and ass still held where he’d left you.

Higaruma fumbles for a moment to wipe your backside with his handkerchief, leaning to press a gentle kiss to the base of your spine before moving to clean himself up, then tuck himself away. It’s in the quiet afterwards where his actions reflect a sort of fondness he’d never admit, the beginnings of feelings that never quite feel right to admit given the setting.

His thumbs work into the base of your spine, massaging the faint soreness that’d begun to set in from the awkward angle. 

Sighing, you drape forward, melting from his touch. Tilting your head just enough to look over your shoulder at him, searching the dark honey of his irises for something you know he’d probably never say aloud.

Instead, you ask an easier, simpler question.

“Same time next week?”

The corners of his lips quirk up, amused and adoring.

“Of course.”

୨୧ more like this ♡

[lunarkyn]

law & f$%king order !

For a man like Hiromi, stress doesn't just evaporate when he leaves the firm building. It lingers, clinging to the broad of his shoulders like a curse- and you have the solution to all his problems.

notes. this is a rewrite of an old fic posted last year! figured since my style has changed a bit that it deserved a make-over, esp with higaruma's anime debut :P banner art is the lovely ila_meysu on twt!

pairing. hiromi higaruma x reader

word count. ~3k

c/w. nsfw. fem reader w/ fem anatomy. club environment, smoking. reader is a private escort. pretty much porn with plot. complicated relationships, casual sex. oral (fem receiving), unprotected piv, he's a little rough with you, breath play & headlocks. hiromi's kind of a bully. pet names (woman, variations of girl, baby), he has you call him "sir" once, he talks to the kitty a 'lil. pull-out method. aftercare.

What good was a lawyer if he couldn’t control himself in the courtroom?

Hiromi was supposed to be one of the best— hell, he’d even let the firm advertise him as such. Priding himself on taking the impossible and winning without a doubt.

Except he’d let himself be ruled by emotions. That fickle, needling irritation at the back of his neck when someone lied directly to his face? Yeah. It led to him snapping at his client, who by all means deserved it, but smeared his perception of himself nonetheless.

He can’t say that’s solely what led him here, but it certainly had its effects. Shoulders tight and tie crooked, he passes through the main threshold and immediately turns towards a darker hallway near the bar, instinct carrying him where his mind has long since checked out.

Maybe it wasn’t proper for him to see a past client in a club, disgraceful even to engage in a physical relationship with one. But recently, he just couldn’t find it in himself to care.

It felt good.

Who was he if not a simple man?

Not like he had someone to come home to anyways. Too busy for a girlfriend, too guarded for a wife. But you understood.

You, his ex-client-turned-hookup, a dazzling gem in the cesspit that was the Red Heel gentleman’s club. The building layout’s simple for what it is— stages at the front and center, bar off to the right. A hallway filled with paint-chipped doors and a flickering red bulb overhead.

And like always, you’d leaned in the threshold, never one to play innocent at what things were. He liked that about you. In the most cliche way of the phrase, you weren’t like the other girls that worked here. There wasn’t that faux innocence, the secret entitlement to what was in his wallet.

You were just a breath of fresh air for a man who’d been drowning for far too long.

“You look like shit,” you greet simply, looking him up and down. Brutally honest, just the way he likes it. 

“Long day,” he explains. And really, it was.

“Mm. I get it,” you nod. Stepping aside to let him into the private room, shutting the door behind him without offering more. Following him towards the maroon settee in the center of the room, you move to sit beside him, only for him to pull you directly into his lap, shoulder brushing his as you settle sideways, legs thrown over the cushions.

He’s not the kind of man to vent. That much became certain after the first few visits he’d given after your settlement was paid and the contract between you fizzled to a close when every prompt for more information was received with a low hum and a distraction.

Namely, a good smoke.

Procuring a carton and giving it a few good taps on the bottom, then pulling one gold-and-white cigarette from the sleeve. You light the stick with a familiar flick, cherry flame flickering once between you before settling into the tip and catching.

Immediately, his head tips forward, lips parting to accept without request. That was the dynamic between you. Comfortable silence rather than hollow conversation, filling the empty spaces with each other rather than words.

The stick bobs with his lips as he takes a long drag, long forefinger and thumb pinching at the end and pulling it away. You watch the line of his throat as he lets his head hang back, the rise of his broad chest as he lets the smoke linger deep within his lungs, the twin streams that push out from his nostrils as he exhales.

Who knew smoking could be so hot?

Heat builds low in your belly as you watch him take a few more drags, intuition telling you where this is going far before he’d expressed it. Sliding from his lap towards the floor, only to halt when his hands snap to either side of your waist.

“Not tonight,” he murmurs, low and raspy with the rumble of a fresh smoke. “Don’t need it.”

He maneuvers you back onto the settee, instead shifting positions until you are the one laying flat on the cushions, his tie coming undone to loop loosely at your wrists. Not even bothering to bind it properly, blotting the cigarette out in the ashtray before returning his attention to you.

Not that you weren’t already engraved somewhere in his mind already. 

Higaruma’s head ducks between your thighs, wide palms pushing your legs apart just enough to fit himself between them. His breath comes warm against the thin fabric covering your heated core, pressing the crooked bridge of his nose to your sex and sucking in gulps of your raw scent.

“Fuhhhhk,” he groans. Pushing himself into you until he’s nosing like an animal in heat, mouthing at the dampening fabric between you. Sparks tingle up your spine, hands coming to his combed hair and ruining the perfectly curated style. “Smells so fuckin’ good, woman.”

Your head falls back against the cushions, lips parting around breathy pants. Fingers knotted in his hair, hips grinding against his face as he muffles curses into your heat.

His thumb smears at the hem of the flimsy material, damp fabric clinging and glistening with arousal. “Missed this—missed you.”

Whether to you or your body, it didn’t matter. The words still speared through your nerves and lit every sense ablaze, heat coiling low despite hardly being touched.

“Hiro—”

Hooking his thumbpad beneath the cotton, he pulls the gusset aside, the crackling mewl you let out enough permission for him to move. His tongue laves in one long stripe from slit to clit, jaw dropping as he moans at the taste of you.

“Hahhhh, tastes even better,” he mumbles, licking and sucking in erratic bursts, tonguing your entrance. His voice muffles against you, thick and slurred. “Must’a missed me, y’er so fuckin’ soaked.”

“S-shut up,” you stutter, almost shy. He had that kind of effect— one that dismantled every wall and barrier until it was just pure, raw and unfiltered intimacy. “I’m trying to focus.”

His eyes flit up towards you at that, meeting yours. Head raising just enough to show the sharp cheekbones painted with your arousal and his spit, pupils black and large against brown irises.

“Tired of getting bossed around all day,” he murmurs, smearing the collected sap from his face with the back of his hand. You move to speak, only to halt when he continues. “I get nagged all day by clients, other lawyers,” Higaruma begins crawling back up towards you, one knee slotting between your legs. “and you certainly aren’t going to start now.”

His palms plant on either side of your head, fringe falling forward to hang above his brows. The first two buttons of his shirt are undone now, a faint dusting of hair covering the exposed skin. 

Your eyes slide down further, widening at the sight of the very noticeable, almost painful tent in his slacks. Settled firmly against the zipper, standing towards the edge of his belt and curved slightly to the left.

His hips nudge forward, knees planting into the cushions as he leans back. Long and thin fingers moving to his pants and palming himself, watching you as you watch him.

“You’re sure I can’t give a little head?” you question. It’s not even for him—though it was something he loved when you did it— but for you. He’d make the prettiest noises all from the pleasure he received, and if you fondled his balls a little, he’d whimper. 

“Not tonight,” he affirms, finally moving to undo the clasp and pull down the zipper, belt undone with a quick flick of his wrist, leaving the buckle dangling against a loop. Pushing down his slacks and boxers in one go, long cock freely bouncing. “Told you, it's been a long day.”

“I could make it better, though,” you insist, hands moving towards him, only for your wrists to be caught with one broad palm and collected, bound together with a single hand.

Higaruma tuts. “I know you could, but that’s not what I want right now.”

His free hand fits between your legs, fingers dragging through your folds to gather the slick and spit there, transferring it to the flushed head of his cock as he pumps himself a couple more times. Slapping the leaking tip against your clit, the corners of his lips twitch up in amusement when your hips jerk at the contact.

He does it a couple more times, mischief dancing in his eyes with every whine and wriggle you manage beneath him. Pre-cum smears from the divot across your puffy labia, glistening in the low light.

“Hiro.”

“Yeah, yeah..”

Feeding the head between your folds, his hand gently squeezes your wrists then releases them. Hips pushing forward, he notches himself and presses in. The stretch burns straight into pleasure, walls squeezing around every vein and molding to the shape of him as he slides to the hilt. 

“Fuck.”

Maybe not the time, but you tease him anyways—mainly to distract yourself from the absolute size he was stuffing into you. “Are you in?”

“Tch.”

His hands slide up the backs of your legs to your thighs, suddenly pushing until you’d been folded meanly into a press, knees damn near up to your ears. Drawing his hips back until the head of his cock caught in the first ring of muscle, then driving forward again with a wet thwack!

“Am I in?” he echoes, nearly warbling with the pitch he’d chosen to mimic. His cock drills into you with unerring precision, battering the crown against the rippled walls inside until you were mewling and grabbing for him. Smug, he rhetorically questions, “Dunno, am I? Can you tell yet?”

“Yes, yes—”

“Mm, I don’t think I can hear you clearly,” he interrupts, expertly ducking back to swing both your legs over to one side, then crowding forward again. His balls smack wetly against your ass with every thrust, shared arousal smearing between you until the sound echoed in the small room. “Try again.”

“Yes, shiiiittt…”

He blows a breath against the side of your face like a bull huffing, brows scrunched tight. 

“No, I don’t think that was right,” Higaruma says slowly, hands encompassing the sides of your hips and dragging you back onto him. He manhandles you without question, without thought. It’s just raw, carnal sex, thoughtless and blissful in its ease. “You forgot something.”

It’s hard to focus when he’s fucking you so good. Every flutter of your sensitive walls milks his length, coating him in glistening sap that spatters with the forceful contact of his hips against your ass. 

“What—huh?” you sputter. Speaking your thoughts, “What am I fuh–forgetting?”

“You should address me properly, shouldn’t you?” Higaruma tuts. “I thought my favorite girl had some manners. Guess I should stop, since you can’t properly address me anymore.”

“N-No!”

“No?”

“No, sir,” you amend, cunt squeezing tight around him. He hisses in reaction, fingertips pressing hard enough into your skin to dimple imprints of his touch. Adding on a hopeful, breathy, “Please.”

Higarua hums, seemingly satisfied. “Atta girl.”

Only to pull you back against him once again, hauling you up and over until your forearms instinctively met the cushion, somehow managing to put you on your hands and knees with little to no exertion. 

Slipping his hand beneath your hips, his fingertips fumble before finding their place at your clit, swirling the sticky pre-cum around the pearl until your thighs quivered. His chest meets your back, chin hooking over your shoulder as he meanly bullies himself an impossible inch deeper.

“Tell me you missed me,” he murmurs into your ear, low and raspy. “‘Cause I know this pretty cunt missed me. You hear how she’s talkin’ back?”

Your lips part around a moan, dumbly hanging open. A thin string of drool dribbles over the plump flesh, trailing down your chin.

He continues, regardless of your answer. “Yeah, I hear her. She’s sayin’ she missed benign stuffed full of a real man’s cock. Squeezing me like she’s gonna break me— you gonna cum on me? Cum on this fat dick?”

Sparks fly up your spine, walls clenching down involuntarily at the way he’s just using you like a sleeve, the combination of his fingers and his length drilling into you pushing you over the edge before you could even warn him.

Your orgasm crashes over you in a tidal wave, creamy release gushing around him and slicking the heavy stretch of him in glistening pulses, strings sticking to his balls.

“Yeahh, there it is,” Higaruma pants, one arm banding around your throat until he had you in a headlock, pulling you back until you were both upright, his hips still pumping up into you. “That’s my girl.”

If there was anything to say about Hiromi, it was that he fucked like he was in court under the highest stakes. Driving himself into you with enough force to rock you forward, the white sleeve of his button-down bunching at the elbow where your throat presses.

He flexes slightly, just enough to put pressure on your breathing before easing off, repeating the same gesture. Drunk on the feeling of you, he babbles, “Filthy fucking girl. Love this pussy. Wanna cum in it so fucking bad, baby.”

“Please,” you whimper, tears budding at the corners of your eyes from the way he’s working your oversensitive cunt and clit. It didn’t matter if you knew what you were begging for, he’d always give you exactly what you needed.

“Yeah?” he hums behind you, crooked nose bumping your ear, He nips at the lobe, tugging gently before releasing it. “Gonna give it to you then, if that’s what you want.”

His knee nudges yours a slight bit further apart, torso bending forward until he’d crowded you forward and changed the angle to drive even further. Bicep flexing just enough to cut your air off as he chases your second orgasm, lungs restricting until your mind goes fuzzy at the edges, easing his grip off just as you gasp out, gushing around him for a second time.

“Gotta pull out,” Higaruma pants, his face dropping to the crook of your shoulder, holding out just long enough for your aftershocks to face before he lets you lean forward, one hand fixing itself on your hip as the other moves between you. “Fuck, don’t squeeze—”

At the last second, he pulls out, barely able to wrap his fingers around himself and pump before ropes of thick milky cum erupted from his divot, painting your ass. His hips jerk forward into his own palm, letting off a string of rumbling curses and groans as he works himself through it.

Bent forward, you finally catch your breath, stray hairs sticking to your skin from the exertion of the night. Letting him pull away for a moment, cheek resting on your forearms and ass still held where he’d left you.

Higaruma fumbles for a moment to wipe your backside with his handkerchief, leaning to press a gentle kiss to the base of your spine before moving to clean himself up, then tuck himself away. It’s in the quiet afterwards where his actions reflect a sort of fondness he’d never admit, the beginnings of feelings that never quite feel right to admit given the setting.

His thumbs work into the base of your spine, massaging the faint soreness that’d begun to set in from the awkward angle. 

Sighing, you drape forward, melting from his touch. Tilting your head just enough to look over your shoulder at him, searching the dark honey of his irises for something you know he’d probably never say aloud.

Instead, you ask an easier, simpler question.

“Same time next week?”

The corners of his lips quirk up, amused and adoring.

“Of course.”

୨୧ more like this ♡

[basicallydjo]

ONE LAST TIME

Pairings: ex!Steve Harrington x Fem!reader Summary: You were just supposed to go in and out, simple and quick. You did not plan to end up in your ex boyfriends bed with your belongings forgotten on the floor. Warnings: 18+ SMUT (Fingering, unprotected P in V, dirty talk, hickeys) mention of kissing, breaking up. WC: around 4k

. ܁₊ ⊹ . ܁ ⟡ ܁ . ⊹ ₊ ܁.

Stranger Things masterlist

. ܁₊ ⊹ . ܁ ⟡ ܁ . ⊹ ₊ ܁.

. ܁₊ ⊹ . ܁ ⟡ ܁ . ⊹ ₊ ܁.

You had sat in your car for longer than you meant to. Engine ticking, hands still on the wheel, fingers drumming in nervous rhythm.

Your heart felt too loud in your ears.

It was just a box of your things. That was it.

Things that had been left behind when life had pushed you apart. The simplicity of it did not make it easier.

You had rehearsed this moment in your head dozens of times, the words you would say, the calm you would pretend to have. Yet still, now, standing on the edge of the porch, you realized rehearsed calm was impossible.

You knocked.

The sound echoed in the quiet evening, hollow and urgent.

Footsteps approached.

A shadow crossed the frosted glass of the door, then it opened.

Steve was there. Standing in the doorway, the way he always had- with a casualness that almost suggested he had not noticed time passing, and yet completely different.

He looked fine.

Not perfect, not staged, not painfully meticulous. Just… fine. Broader in the shoulders, hair slightly longer, the lines of his face sharper but softened by the faint warmth in his eyes.

His t-shirt clung in a way that made the memory of touching him suddenly vivid, but it was the calm in him that hurt more than anything. He had moved on, or at least learned how to appear as if he had.

"Hey" he said. A single word. Even, measured, careful.

"Hey" you replied. Your voice sounded steadier than it felt. Polite, neutral.

He stepped back, holding the door open wider. The air between you was cooler than outside, carrying a faint mix of cologne and the smell of sun-warmed wood.

It smelled like the house had been waiting for you to come back.

You stepped inside.

The living room was tidy. Neat in ways it had never been before.

The couch was cleared of your blanket that had always been draped over the arm. The coffee table held nothing but a few magazines stacked neatly. Even the carpet looked freshly vacuumed, the fibers rising softly under your feet. The house had changed.

Or maybe it had only been waiting for you to notice.

"Your things are in my room" he said from behind you.

You nodded, silent. You did not need him to follow you. You walked down the hallway, up the stairs, passing the walls lined with the same framed photos you've memorised to heart, the same scuffs and dings that had marked years of life. The air felt heavier with every step, thick with the weight of memory and absence.

His bedroom door was open. Your box sat near the foot of the bed. Neatly packed.

Folded. Organized.

It was the first quiet reminder that he had prepared for this day. That he had anticipated your return and handled it without anyone else needing to notice.

You weren't sure why it made your heart tug tightly in your chest.

You crouched to go through it.

A sweater first. Soft, worn, sleeves fraying slightly. One you'd wear on chilly nights when watching movies, curled up into his side.

A necklace next. Chain tangled slightly, the pendant glinting faintly in the light spilling through the window. Fingers brushing over it made something ache in your chest, a memory that refused to be quiet.

A book, a pair of socks that could not possibly have been yours, and then a t-shirt. Gray. Faded. The one you had slept in when mornings were slow and warm, and you had pressed into him for just a little longer before starting the day.

You had left it behind. You had not meant to. You held it for a long moment, inhaling the faint scent of him that still clung to the fabric.

"You can keep that," he said quietly, almost casually, leaning against the dresser. Arms crossed loosely, posture relaxed. It was casual enough that you could pretend he had not noticed the way your fingers lingered over the shirt.

"Okay" you whispered.

The silence settled again.

It was heavy, almost solid. Not empty, not hollow. Full.

Heavy with the weight of what had been and what could not be said. Nights in this room, whispered conversations late into the night, hands finding each other without needing to look, the feel of him pressing into you so perfectly it had made you feel like you belonged.

All of it pressed into the quiet, and you felt it pressing back.

You stood slowly, straightening your spine. He moved at the same time, a subtle mirror of your motion.

Suddenly the space between you felt impossibly small. The air thickened.

You could feel his warmth, even without touching. The familiarity of him was sharp, almost painful.

Your eyes met.

Heavy.

Full of memories neither of you spoke.

His gaze dipped briefly to your mouth, and you felt the catch in your breath as though the room itself had paused.

You did not step back.

He did not step forward.

The silence stretched between you, thick and hot with things left unsaid, with the pull of familiarity, with the dangerous weight of knowing exactly what had been lost.

You reached for the box again, trying to give yourself something to do. Your hand brushed against his.

Electric, startling. He inhaled sharply. Your eyes met again. Neither looked away this time. The air was charged, and the quiet in the room no longer felt neutral.

It was waiting. Watching. Waiting for one small spark to ignite everything.

"Well, I should uh- thanks- for my stuff..." You breathed, swallowing a lump in your throat "I'll um...I'll see you around?"

Steve nodded silently, gaze lowered to his carpet.

You stood again, nodding to the door "'m gonna head out now then, so"

making your way out of his room, you heard his throat clear, and a sniffle. But it was not sad, an awkward one to get your attention.

You turned around, focusing on the box he nudged with his foot "Don't wanna forget your stuff..."

"Right" You blinked "can't forget that..."

You stepped forward towards him and bent down to pick it up, knocking heads with his as he did the same.

You winced as you stood up.

Closing your eyes, you rubbed your forehead, hearing his deep groan.

"Shit- sorry, you alright?"

You nodded, opening your eyes to see him lean in.

His hands reached up, the warm pads of his fingertips finding the skin of your temple.

"Sorry" he mumbled, just barely pressing down to watch if you were hurt.

"It's fine, don't worry" You replied weakly, not even thinking twice before you let your hand reach up and find his wrist.

His eyes found yours a second later, like he had realised the mistake.

His breath hitched in his throat, you almost didn't notice, had you not seen the way his Adam's apple bobbed and get caught mid swallow.

You didn't have the ability to speak as he licked his bottom lip, his eyebrows twitching in a frown for a glimpse of a second.

The silence stretched until it felt physical.

Your hand was still half-curled near his when he stepped closer.

The movement was subtle, almost imperceptible, but it changed everything.

The space between you disappeared. The warmth of him reached you before his hands did. It seeped through fabric, through skin, into something deeper.

His fingers hovered near your waist.

Not touching.

Waiting.

The air in the room felt dense, like it had thickened with memory. The faint scent of him wrapped around you, clean and warm and achingly familiar.

Your body recognized it instantly.

Your heart began to pound, slow and heavy, each beat landing harder than the last.

When he finally touched you, it was careful.

His palms settled at your hips with restraint, as though he expected you to pull away. The contact was light at first, but it sent heat rushing up your spine.

Your breath faltered.

You felt the tremor in his hands, barely there but undeniable.

You leaned in before you could stop yourself, your chest brushing his.

The contact was soft, but it felt louder than anything that had happened so far.

Your fingers slid up the front of his shirt. The cotton was warm from his skin.

Beneath it, his heartbeat was strong and uneven. You felt it through your palm. It mirrored your own.

He looked at you like he was trying to read something in your face. Like he was searching for permission he did not want to ask for.

You closed the distance.

The first kiss was slow.

Not desperate. Not rough. Just lips meeting in a press that felt inevitable.

Familiar warmth.

Familiar shape.

It settled into you like something remembered rather than discovered.

He exhaled against your mouth, and the sound was soft but heavy, like he had been holding that breath for months.

You felt the shift in him almost immediately.

His hands tightened slightly at your waist. Not possessive. Not forceful. Just anchoring.

The kiss deepened in gradual degrees. His mouth moved against yours with quiet certainty, relearning you in real time.

You responded without thinking, fingers curling into the fabric at his chest, pulling him closer.

The room felt smaller with every second.

You were aware of everything. The faint hum of electricity in the walls. The way the light filtered through the window and cast long shadows across his shoulders. The warmth building between your bodies.

He moved you backward without either of you deciding to move.

One slow step. Then another.

Your breathing grew uneven, mingling with his. The back of your knees brushed the edge of the bed.

He paused.

It was brief. Barely a heartbeat.

But in that moment, everything hung suspended. You could still step away. Still gather your box and walk out the door.

Instead, your hands slid up to his hair. Your fingers threaded through it, tugging gently, bringing him back down to you.

The restraint broke with a slip of a finger.

His shirt was gone first. Pulled over his head in a motion that felt practiced, muscle memory guiding your hands. The sight of bare skin stole the air from your lungs.

Your palms moved over him slowly, tracing the lines of his shoulders, the curve of his back. He shuddered beneath your touch.

His hands slipped under your shirt, his touch warm and deliberate.

He moved like he was reacquainting himself with something precious. Fingertips grazing, then flattening, mapping the shape of you with reverence that made your chest tighten.

The kiss grew heavier. Slower. Charged.

His name left your lips without thought, soft and unguarded.

You felt it hit him.

His breath stuttered. His forehead dropped briefly to yours.

The control he had been holding onto thinned visibly. His grip at your waist tightened, pulling you flush against him.

You fell back onto the bed together.

The mattress dipped beneath you, the springs and screws creaking under the weight it hasn't held in months.

Clothes disappeared in slower movements now. Not rushed. Intentional. Fabric sliding against skin.

Buttons undone with fingers that shook only slightly. Every layer removed felt like peeling back months of distance.

He looked at you for a long moment before touching you again.

Really looked at you.

Like he was memorizing what he thought he had lost.

When his hands moved over your bare skin, the reaction was immediate.

Your back arched. Your breath left you in a quiet gasp. His mouth followed the line of your jaw, your throat, pressing warmth into every place he touched.

You clung to him.

"Missed you" He spoke in a hush, his words just audible in your ears "Fuck, I missed this"

Your fingers dug into his shoulders, into his back, holding him there as if gravity had shifted and he was the only thing keeping you steady.

There was nothing casual about it.

No detachment. No pretending.

Every movement felt loaded. Like reclaiming something. Like reopening something that had never fully healed.

When he moved against you, the sensation was overwhelming in its familiarity.

Your body responded instantly, like it had never forgotten how to fit with his. Heat coiled low and tight, building steadily.

The room filled with the sound of uneven breathing, quiet gasps, the soft rhythm of skin against skin until he stilled, pulling away from you with a hurt look on his etched on his face.

"Maybe...maybe we shouldn't..." He breathed, heavy but shallow "This is a bad idea- I mean..."

You let your hands drag down his skin, recoiling them back to yourself as you gaped up at him.

You swallowed thickly, nodding is a tired agreement "Yeah, yeah m-maybe you're right"

But he made no effort to get off of you, to sit up and let you leave.

He made no effort to take his hands off of you. instead, one hand trailed down to the bone of your hip, rubbing small, delicate circles as the other reached up to cup your face, his thumb tracing back and forth against your cheekbone.

"You're so pretty" he said, shaking his head like he was disappointed.

"Steve..." you whispered, letting your finger tangle in one of his curls at the nape of his neck

"I know...I know baby" He murmured, dipping his head to connect his lips to yours once more, a deep breath escaping his lips as he held your face against his.

You hummed against his lips, letting his hand drift down to your thighs, giving gentle squeezes to your plush skin.

"Steve" You whined, wanting the ability to say no, to have the respect for yourself to leave.

But you couldn't, not when he dipped his head into the crook of your neck, almost breathing you in as he trailed kisses up and down your pulse.

"Hm?" he hummed in response, barely paying attention to you as his hand slid higher towards your panties.

You didn't know what you wanted to say, only a mix of sounds making their way out of your lips as his fingers ran over the hem of the seam.

"Please, baby... let me take care of you. One last time?"

You almost groaned at his words, your mind going fuzzy thinking about what was going to happen.

He paused to let you decide, let you push him away if you needed, only smiling when you gave a small nod.

You closed your eyes as he pushed your panties aside, letting his fingers run through your slick folds.

You weren't away of how wet you were until he pulled away and let the string of your juices stretch as he separated his fingers.

"Still wet for me, baby?"

You nodded, almost dumbly as you stared at him, your hips bucking towards his frame.

Having spent the last few months alone, you realised you shouldn't be surprised to being so horny at the feeling of his touch.

You've craved him ever since you broke up, and from the first time he looked at your lips barely 10 minutes prior, he knew you were fucked. under the spell of his wide puppy dog eyes.

He always did that, turning you into a puddle by a tender touch and gaze.

His hand went back down, running two fingers up at down your pussy, lips finding your jaw as you hummed.

"Gonna make you feel so good. Always do"

You whined, letting him push your legs further apart.

Hooking a finger around the thin cotton of your panties, he pulled them down, letting them drop to the floor before he pushed a finger in, capturing your soft moan into his mouth.

It had felt like forever since he had touched you, since you felt your walls being stretched, so when a second digit came in quickly, you whined weakly.

"Shh. I got you... let me take care of you" he cooed into your ear, sliding his fingers in and out of your entrance at a painfully slow pace.

"Gotta stretch you out baby...gotta get you ready for me cock" he groaned, feeling the way your walls tightened around him "you want my cock, don't you?"

You nodded, your hands finding his back, letting your nails dig into his skin.

He winced, sucking in a sharp breath. But you knew it didn't hurt. You never hurt him, and he never hurt you.

Unless you asked.

"Please, Steve" You sighed "need it so bad"

You swallowed hard as Steve started to pump his fingers a little faster, deeper.

Your eyes flashed to the tent in his trousers, making your stomach flutter and clit pulse with need, knowing you could still affect him this deeply after months apart.

Steve plunged his fingers back into your core and started to curl his two fingers, pressing upward with gentle pressure, as if he was motioning come here inside of your pussy.

"Mm, Steve, please" you whined, arching your back into him. Your fingers fumbling as you leaned down to undo his belt, desperate to feel him, all of him.

"So greedy, sweetheart. This what time apart does to you, huh?" He chuckled low against your skin, nipping the lobe of your ear tenderly.

Despite his cocky words, you knew just as eager and horny as you, helping you undo his jeans after pulling his digits out of you, shoving his jeans down along with his boxers.

His cock sprung free, already painfully hard from the constraint, leaking at the tip.

You licked your lips as you wrapped your hand around it, stroking slowly once, and twice.

"Fuck, that feels so good" he admitted, hissing before letting his head drop to your shoulder, his teeth grazing your skin.

He shifted, lifting one of your legs around his hip, kneeling one knee underneath your thigh before giving your leg a tender squeeze.

"You ready for me, sweetheart?" he asked, nudging his cock against your soaked entrance, leaking and throbbing needily for his attention.

You nodded vigorously "Please, Steve, need to feel you"

without another word, Steve pushed in, burying his length inside of you impossibly slow.

You felt every inch, the stretch of his thickness snug against your walls, the perfect fullness as he sunk deeper.

His hips flushed against yours. His tummy pressing down on you, just enough weight to make you feel dizzy and blissful, a feeling you haven't felt in a long time.

It felt right.

You moaned, letting your head fall against the plush of his pillow.

He didn't waste long before shifting, pushing himself in and out.

He never did, knowing you loved the pain turning into pleasure.

His breath came in heaves. Deep pants as he rocked his hips.

You smiled weakly when he groaned, squeezing your walls around his length

"Fuck" he cursed shakily. "Forgot how good you feel...you make me feel so good, baby"

His cock stroked with ease, massaging your neglected pussy deliciously.

Steve pulled his hips back, before snapping forward in one sharp thrust, sending a shudder down your spine as you moaned, rolling your eyes back.

The sound of skin on skin, wet slapping sounds and Steve's sharp groans reached every inch of the room, echoing in your ears as you gripped his mattress in an attempt to ground yourself

Keeping his cock buried deep in your pussy, he spreads his knees, situating himself to get the perfect view of his cock sliding in and out of your wet pussy.

Steve picked up his pace, rocking back and forth, your wet heat fluttering at the new pace as you felt yourself lose restraint.

"Steve, yes- fuck" Your back arched further as you whined, scratching at his sheets

"That’s it, baby" Steve groaned, words low and raspy. "Take it, tell me how much you missed me"

You cried, squirming beneath him "I- I missed you so bad, Steve. Please, 'm so close"

With one hand planted on your hip, he let the other dip between your thighs, the pads of his fingers finding your aching clit.

You wanted to scream, biting your lip as he circled your bundle of nerves, sending another wave of pleasure that surged through you.

"You have no idea how much I missed you" he admitted deeply "missed the way you feel too- fuck, so tight for me"

You rolled your hips, searching for more friction as he leaned down, leaving a trail of hot, wet kisses to your neck, sucking and nibbling on your pulse and your sweet spot, his thrusts becoming sloppy as you moaned, saying his name in that tone that used to drive him wild.

He mumbled against your throat, begging for more "please- fuck...'m not gonna last baby, cum for me, sweet girl"

Toes curling, you felt yourself sink further into the bed, feeling completely and utterly full as he thrusted faster, chasing his own release that begged to come out.

You whined out as you felt yourself gush around him, the tightness in your stomach letting go of the knot it had formed.

Cumming around his cock, you whimpered, shaky and needy as his fingers rode out your high, rubbing your clit deliciously as he stuffed his length inside of you.

"Fuck-" He groaned "that's it...so good for me, sweetheart"

Panting, ropes of hot, sticky cum shot out of his tip, filling up your raw and aching pussy, letting himself release inside of you in an act of pleasure.

You hummed, your hands finding his sweaty skin, squeezing into is shoulders as he sighed, flopping onto you before pulling out "shit baby, so fucking good"

You let yourself catch your breath, the weight of him on top of your chest making it difficult, but you didn't complain. You couldn't, not when he whimpered out shy breaths.

"Stay the night, please" He begged in a hush, his eyes fluttering tiredly.

You winced, your brows furrowing deeply as you thought about the consequences.

"I don't think that's a good idea, Steve" You mumbled, tracing shapes on his skin, not making an attempt to move.

"Please...'m not gonna watch you leave again. Can't." He admitted weakly, his arms tightening around you like he refused the idea to let you go.

You felt your heart break all over again.

You couldn't help but think he only missed the sex, the way your bodies felt against each other.

"Steve..." You trailed off, pausing your movements.

He lifted his head, his eyes finding yours and you knew then, you were always going to be screwed.

It was never going to be one last time.

. ܁₊ ⊹ . ܁ ⟡ ܁ . ⊹ ₊ ܁.

[lunarkyn]

law & f#$king order !

Even the most strict, dignified man has perversions. For Hiromi, his deepest sin is the carnal want that comes with being obsessed with a certain temptress.

notes. first kinktober post guys get excited!!!! what better way to start this out than with some worship for our favorite attorney... this is honestly so self-indulgent its a little sickening. also, my asks are officially open, so please feel free to drop in ! ♡

pairing. higaruma hiromi x reader

word count. . . 4.5k

rating. nsfw - mdni !!

current c/w. club environment, alcohol, smoking, lap dancing, oral (fem! receiving), tongue piercing, sloppy & unprotected piv, a very whipped and pretty much submissive hiromi, fem terms (ma'am, slut, girl, ), usage of 'good boy', jerking off, possessive/dominant talk, lots of praise, slight dacryphilia if you squint, aftercare.

jjk masterlist |

Hiromi Higaruma hates strip clubs. A cesspool of curses, crimes and whatever sins could amalgamate into human flesh. The stench of desperation clings to the walls like smoke, and no matter how many times he’d seen it, it was always the same— sweaty dollar bills, slack-jawed men rotting under the red and blue neon lights, and behind it all, the festering sense that justice was not just blind, but gagged and bound in the back room.

Yet here he was. Again and again.

The bouncer was the same bear of a man, wide-shouldered and solid, with a shaved head and a faded tattoo snaking up his neck. A single nod of indifference as Hiromi passed his ID over, a half-assed grunt of approval before the velvet rope opened and shut behind him. 

He opened the door with the kind of disgust usually reserved for when the prosecution used a shit loophole to buy themselves a few more minutes. A few of the dancers near the front entrance gave him a once-over and wisely chose not to engage, instead busying themselves with whatever scum had a dollar in his wallet.

The music struck first before the smell did— low, thrumming bass that rattled in the bones of the building, punctuated by the occasional raucous cheer. The stench of cheap perfume, over-priced alcohol and the copper-tang of sweat and sex came next, causing his hooked nose to scrunch in distaste.

A stage glowed to the left, casting pools of pink and blue light over the women moving sinuously around poles, their movement amplified by the haze of desire in the air. A dozen pairs of eyes tracked them at all times, glazed with drink and lust— easy prey, if he’d given it a second thought.

Hiromi didn’t care for the stage, not even bothering to give the girl swirling on the pole a second glance as his gaze swept over the bustling crowd. He wasn’t here for them, wasn’t interested in a drink, either.

He was here for you.

Crossing through the crowds, he instinctively made his way towards the back hallway where the private dances were held in sticky leather booths, grumbling under his breath as his shoulder clipped with a guy who was leaving door four. 

He paused outside door seven. Same chipped paint, same flickering red bulb overhead, casting his warped shadow as he raised a knuckle to the door, pausing. Hiromi exhaled, long and slow, trying to steady the clawing itch just beneath his skin. 

This wasn’t justice, or even lawful. It was indulgence, weakness written in his skin and boiling into his veins.

Yet he rapped his knuckle against the thin wood, forehead dipping to hover against the door, waiting.

When your voice floated through the space dividing you and him, Hiromi nearly crumpled to his knees.

So fucking pitiful, he grits his teeth together, long fingers twisting the knob and pushing the door open.

If he was pitiful then, he must look like a damn beggar now— pale pink lips parting and soft shaft firming at the mere sight of you like a dog. His gaunt eyes roving over the bare skin of your legs thrown over the side of the lounger, heels kicked off to the side.

“Two days in a row?” You questioned, casual and almost bored in drawl, and he swore his knees knocked together— if it wasn’t obvious before, the tent in his suit slacks was certainly prominent now. 

He watched as your eyes tracked down his features, down the tailored suit that was far too expensive to be worn in a dingy club like this, halting at the imprint of his dick. His achingly, frustratingly, painfully hard dick. 

“Had a shit day,” Hiromi offers, voice cracking in all the wrong places— shit, he sounded like a fucking teenager all over again. He has half the mind to slam his head against the wall until he sounds like himself again, but what good would that do when it’s you that does this to him?

“You look like shit,” you say, tilting your head. “Even more than usual.”

Hiromi is lucky he doesn’t cream himself right then and there.

The man who prides himself on dismantling people piece by piece, who can shred even the most airtight testimony with a glance, finds himself in the jaws of a lioness and he fucking loves it.

He pulls himself together just long enough to muster a half-assed shrug. “Had a client lie to my face for three hours straight,” he says, voice like rough gravel, “then expect me to defend him anyway.”

Your smile twitched at the edges. That was the thing about Hiromi Higuruma — always sharp, always serious, always just a little too much weight on his shoulders. But here, he let it slip. Just a little. Not enough to be vulnerable, but enough for you to see the wear and tear behind his eyes.

You swung your legs over the side of the lounger, patting the space beside you.

“I’ll waive the private dance,” you say, watching him expectantly. “But you’re sitting this time.”

He hesitated. Then, with a grunt, crossed the room and sank onto the couch beside you.

“You know,” you murmured, manicured nails reaching for the lighter on the end table, “they’re going to start charging you fees for only taking my time and not the other girls. Specialty preference and all that bullshit.”

Hiromi turned his head, foxlike gaze dragging over your profile. “Worth it.”

That earns him a real laugh. One of those rare, unfiltered ones that rip straight down his spine and settle warm in his gut like whiskey.

You light the cigarette with a practiced flick, the cherry flame flaring between your fingers, taking a slow drag before offering it to him soundlessly. He takes it, pressing it to his lips and pulling deep. Smoke curls into his lungs, delicious and bitter, before he exhales through his nose, eyes fluttering shut for a moment as if the act alone gave him a second of peace.

He leaned back into the cushions, knees spreading as he takes another toke, blowing the smoke into the air, watching as it unfurled above him in slow, spiraling ribbons, thinning into nothing. He runs his tongue along the back of his teeth, the ball of his piercing knocking against the roof of his mouth— a piercing that he’d hated himself for even getting as a stupid teenager, but now, armed with the knowledge that you liked it, he did too.

His gaze settles back on you as you stand, bare feet sinking into the plush carpet you’d set out at some point— it wasn’t like you took on any ‘clients’ besides him anyways, not that you’d tell Hiromi that.

Hiromi’s breath hitches as you ease yourself backwards between his legs, your pretty hands settling on either of his knees for support as you seated yourself onto his crotch. His head falls back against the wooden frame of the lounger as he feels the flutter of your heat even through the flimsy fabric you called panties and his slacks, a ragged groan passing through his lips despite himself.

His hands, which had first rested cool and deliberate, flexed restlessly against the leather, cigarette between his fingers trembling faintly before being abandoned altogether, setting it aside into an ashtray.

“Fuuucking hell,” he mutters to himself more than you, the words a conviction to how lost he was with you. His jaw clenched, pupils blown wide already, a flushed warmth creeping across his sharp cheekbones as his gaze locks on the swell of your ass.

Greedily, his hands seek your touch, one palming the fatty curves of your backside while the other finds its home at your hip, guiding you in figure eights the way he liked— a way that you were all too familiar with and much too perfect at.

“Missed you,” he grits out— whether it's to your ass or to you personally, neither of you knew. Rather than respond with words, you simply hum, a noise that tapers out at the end as your fluttering cunt finds friction against the swell of his cock.

The sound that left Hiromi was low, guttural, almost more beastly than man. The blood in his head rushed to his crotch, his eyebrows furrowing together as his tongue slid out to wet his lips.

“Let me eat that pussy again,” his voice is rough, three sheets to the wind as the hand he has on your hips slides up your ribcage, palming your tit through the thin fabric of your top. “She misses me, doesn't she?”

Maybe from another man, you would’ve reached back and knocked him senseless, had the bouncer throw him out, even. But for Hiromi— oh, sweet, sexy Hiromi— you let out a soft mewl, nodding with dazed eagerness.

Pushing off his lap, you move to change places, a breath hitching in your throat as he all but shoves you onto the lounger, putting you on your hands and knees. His large, pale hands palmed at your ass for a moment longer, mesmerized by the ripple of fat as he kneaded roughly. His thumbs pulled apart the base of your thighs, the dark hues of hickory swimming in his irises as he finds himself face-to-folds with the prettiest cunt he’s ever seen in his life. 

“Fuuuck,” he groans out, tugging at his tie until it loosens, the sharp lines of his jaw slackened into something almost dazed as his thumb slides across the hem of your panties. He nearly whimpers when his thumbpad comes into contact with the flimsy, soaked fabric, a breath leaving his lungs in a ragged exhale.

“Higaruma,” you growl out, almost scolding in its gruffness, growing impatient with every moment he spends visually worshipping your cunt. “Get to work.”

It was like a knife stabbed through his gut, the command striking deeper than any wound ever could. Still, Hiromi was nothing if not a man— your man, if you’d ever take him— and his desire to please outweighed any pride he had to maintain.

“Yes ma’am,” he rasps out, a knee pressing into the lounger as he brings himself lower and closer to your heat. His calloused palms are rough against the softer flesh of your thighs, almost reverent in the way he explores your skin anew, as if you were some sacred text to be handled with care.

His tongue slides out to wet his lips, crooked nose bumping against your folds as he presses his lips to the flimsy fabric covering your folds, a kiss that was less lustful and more romantic in its intimacy.

Then, his tongue flicked out again, silver piercing glinting briefly before he dragged it slow and deliberate against you through the lace, groaning into the fabric as though he were the one undone. One hand stayed pressed to your thigh, anchoring him in place, while the other slid toward the aching bulge straining against his slacks.

Hiromi began palming himself with reckless abandon, hips jerking faintly in his hand, all while his mouth worked in worship against your heat.

“Fuckin’ perfect” he groans, wholly enthralled and kneeling in spirit if not in body, treating each motion as sacred scripture. What once was a hard-assed, no-nonsense man had simply devolved to the purest, most unadulterated need to please you, to serve to your every desire as if it were his own — which, if Hiromi was being truthful, it was.

His eyes shuttered shut, simply enjoying himself as he ate what juices soaked through your panties, sliding into a half-lid when your fingers interceded his tongue, ears prickling as he catches the gasp you let loose at the feeling of his spit against your fingertips. 

Hiromi grunts in displeasure at being interrupted during his meal, only to groan as he watches your trembling digits tear at the fabric of your panties, hooking it to the side and revealing the treacly folds of your fluttering cunt.

“Goddamn,” he mutters, immediately making quick work as his lips surround your clit, nose buried into your cunt as he sucks your bundle of nerves like the starving man that he is. When you practically shook like a leaf in the wind, he released you with a pop! and laved his tongue across your folds, the cold metal dragging firm and slow. 

A strangled curse left your lips, your free hand clawing at the cushions as he mouthed at you greedily, groaning as if the mere raw taste of you alone had undone him. The wet, obscene sound of Hiromi working himself through his slacks mixing with the slick sounds of his worship at your cunt.

“Baby, fuck, so goddamn perfect,” he chokes between strokes, voice muffled against you. “Could stay in this pussy forever— fuck, let me…”

You moaned, a loud and heady sound that was all too real for what your job title required, head falling forward into the cushion. Hiromi’s hand pumped harder against himself, slacks damp where precum had already seeped through, his mouth redoubled in its devotion.

He circled your clit with long, flat strokes, flicking the silver ball of his piercing against it in teasing patterns, desperate to draw out every shiver and praise you graced him.

“Call me a good boy,” he bosses as he breaks for a moment of air, eyes wild, lips and chin slick with your essence. His desperation was raw, unguarded, each word spilling out with no trace of the smooth, calculating lawyer that he prided himself as. All that remained was a man shackled in the bliss of your pleasure, clinging to every syllable you granted him as if they were divine decree.

A shiver ran up your spine as his tongue delved back into your folds, a whining moan reverberating in your throat. Walls fluttering around nothing, you could feel every nerve light up as his tongue worked you like he wrote the definition of pleasure, slick dribbling from your slit and catching on his lips.

“Good— oh, good boy, Hiro,” you praise upon his request, breath hitching as you hear the shuffle of fabric. Twisting your head to look over your shoulder, your chest heaves as you spot the trail of russet brown tufts of hair just above the waistband of his boxers. 

Hiromi shoves the waistband down, freeing himself from the confines of his slacks, his shaft slapping against his abdomen and already beading more pre-cum as he smooths his thumb over the slit, dragging it down the length of his cock in a desperate pump as he dives back into your cunt.

“Yes—fuck— yes, baby,” he practically babbles, the wet heat of his breath brushing your swollen clit as his tongue delves into your folds then across your clit again, tracing frantic shapes against your bud. His hand clutched at your thigh, nails dragging against the supple flesh as if anchoring himself as his other hand stroked himself, loud and raw, the sounds ricocheting off the paneled walls.

“God, I’m your good boy, I’m yours,” he pants, voice breaking between laps of his tongue. “Fuck— so sweet— you’re so sweet— tell me you want this, baby, please, please..”

As you open your mouth to reply, he continues, every syllable of your moans acting as a praise that wrings another noise from him. His voice climbs louder, hoarser, until he nearly lost his voice between your folds. Hiromi’s hips bucked helplessly into his hand, the wet smack! of him jerking off in tandem with the obscene, sloppy sounds of his mouth working over your soaked core.

“Shit, you’re doing so good f’me,” you huff, hips grinding back against his mouth as you chase the pleasure he affords you, the coil in your belly drawing taut as his lips surround and suck on your clit once more.

“O-oh,” you’re whining, matching his desperation. “Gonna— wanna— fuck, Hiro, please.. wanna finish on your tongue, is that okay?”

Hiromi’s breath hitched, eyes dark and glassy, tongue darting against you with renewed fervor. Every brush of his piercing along your throbbing core drove a shiver up your spine, hips jerking instinctively, pressing down harder into his mouth as if trying to meld yourself to him.

“Yeah.. fuck, yeah.. I’ll get you there, baby,” he rasps, voice raw, a tremor running through every syllable. His hands gripped your thighs, holding you steady as his tongue traced impossibly intricate patterns over your clit, over the slick folds of your core. His movements were deliberately slow, almost practiced from how many times he’d memorized what you liked, coaxing each shudder, gasp, and moan from your lips.

Your breath came in ragged bursts, forehead pressed against the cushion as your back arched and ass rose, the coil in your belly twisting tighter and tighter as your moans turned to high-pitched, needy squeaks, every stroke of his tongue sending sparks crawling along your nerves.

“So fuckin’ perfect,” Hiromi groans against you, almost delirious as the hand gripping your thigh slides to your front, pulling you against him and drowning him in your cunt. 

A soft, tremulous whine escapes you as your pleasure snaps, walls fluttering violently around his tongue as you see stars. With a sharp, guttural cry, your release wrenches from you and gushes on his tongue, landing hot and slick against his lips and chin. 

Hiromi’s own moan surfaces at the raw, bittersweet taste of you, tongue gliding over you in eager, greedy passes as he works you through your high. His shaft is long abandoned, hips canting forward as he watches you fall apart.

His cock jumps as he registers a weak “thank you” falling from your lips, both his focus and shaft standing at attention at the mere sound of your voice. 

He eases back, settling back down beside you when you shift to kneel on the lounger, reaching for the cigarette that had long since burned to ash. He sighs blissfully, pleased with himself as he tapped out the stick, pulling it back to his lips and lighting it once more, taking a lengthy drag.

“Hiromi,” you say, and his eyes turn towards you, cock head bobbing against his abdomen. The cigarette is loose in his lips as he watches you swing a trembling leg over his lap, easing yourself into a straddle just above his cock.

“You don’t gotta do that, pretty,” he tips his head to the side to blow the smoke out— even if you smoked too, he didn’t want to blow it in your face— and turns his gaunt eyes back onto you.

“I want to,” you huff in return, a delicate hand reaching below and sliding over his shaft. Pursing your lips, you dribble a glob of spit and watch as it falls directly on his cockhead, thumb easily sliding over and working the slick over his shaft.

His free hand comes up to hold your hip, fingers digging lightly into the smooth skin, cigarette burning low between his fingers once more. He flicks off the ash and twisting his fingers to offer the end to you, dark eyes locked as your lips trap the stick and pull, the butt of the cigarette burning bright ochre hues. 

Gaze half-lidded, he takes back the cigarette as you breathe out smoke, his tongue dragging across his bottom lip as the haze of the room settles into his bones.

“I’d be a dumbass to stop you, baby,” he murmurs, voice heavy and thick like the air between you two. “S’yours anyways.”

With his permission, you drag his mushroomed tip between your folds, settling onto him and hissing at the stretch, a palm splaying across his chest as you took him in. Immediately, Hiromi moved with a slow, controlled sway against your center, his free hand sliding from your hip to press his thumbpad against your clit, dragging slow circles to help loosen you up.

Your hips stuttered as your ass settled against his pelvis, the sensation of being so full causing tears to brim at your waterline. 

“So fuckin’ tight,” he grits out, already abandoning the cigarette for a second time to focus on you. He plants both hands at your hips, guiding you up and back down, pulling your hips forward in a rocking motion. “Bet none of those other bastards can get you off like I can, hmm?”

Your only answer comes in the form of a whine— even as your body screams in agreement, greedy walls sucking him in like a vise.

“Such a goddamn slut, baby,” he bumps his hips up, catching the spongy patch of your wall, immediately honing onto that one spot the moment your breath caught, bullying his cockhead against it. “Taking all of me so good, like you were fuckin’ made for me.”

Hiromi takes over as your body folds into his chest, hips driving upwards and pressing into you with the duality of raw force and sweet devotion. Every motion drew a moan from you, the scent of sex thick in the air. He nosed against your cheek long enough for you to turn your head, capturing your lips in a greedy kiss, one hand threading into your hair to hold you firmly while the other palmed your ass.

“So good,” you echoed his sentiment, panting hot breaths against his neck when his head tipped back against the cushions. “Missed you, Hiro..”

His eyes glinted like blackened jewels at your words, head raising back up as he sucked in a ragged, sharp inhale, caught somewhere between carnal need and a ferocious want. His lips honed to your nape, teeth grazing the soft skin with sharp, deliberate nips as he ground upward, thrusting into you with a power that caused wet slaps! to ricochet off the walls.

“Missed you, baby,” he grunts in return— without breaking his rhythm, his hand shoots back and lands firmly on your ass, the sharp smack reverberating through the room. The sting mixed with pleasure, and a low, needy groan spilled from your lips as the mark bloomed red on your skin. He followed with another, this one slower, harder, savoring the sound it drew from you as he smoothed out the sting with a gentle knead. 

“Good girl,” he praises, the hand he had threaded into your hair sliding down your back and thumb rubbing soothing circles against your tailbone. “Taking all of me so good– fuck..”

He slots his mouth against yours in a sloppy, messy open-mouthed kiss, his tongue sliding into your mouth and groaning as you sucked on the metal ball piercing. 

Hiromi groaned low in response, the sound thick and guttural, vibrating straight through you. The taste of your mouth, the heat of your kiss, the slick friction of your arousal coating him all set fire to his every nerve. His hand tightened on your ass, thumb dragging over the heated flesh with possessive insistence as his thrusts grew sharper, rougher, each one driving the two of you closer to the brink of destruction.

He nipped at your jaw, teeth grazing the curve of your neck, then leaned back slightly, slowing his pace just long enough to feel the ridges of his veins sliding along your walls before bucking back in that same harsh cadence.

“Feels too good,” you whine, walls fluttering around him. His hand strikes down on your ass again, sending a hyper thrill up your spine as your core clamps down, trembling around him. The tension in your belly built like the fissures of a breaking dam, the collapse imminent.

“You like that, don’t you baby? Like being split in half by a real man, hnf— fuck..” Hiromi’s chest heaved, guiding your hips down with the precision of a man who existed only for your pleasure. “Quit this stupid fucking job, baby, I can take care of you..”

He knew your answer already— the same thing you told him every time he asked you to: no. 

“Y-yeah?” you grit out, and his jaw nearly fell to the floor in surprise. “I’ll— fuck— quit tonight.”

“Finally,” he hisses, driving himself up into you with renewed fervor, hips snapping against the flesh of your ass. The coil in your belly snaps so hard you see white, your release exploding from you in a gush, spilling over his length and soaking the crotch of his slacks. Your moans echoed through the room, head falling into his neck, eyes squeezing shut in blissful surrender.

Hiromi groaned loudly, utterly lost in you, following your body’s rhythm as he let the flutters of your walls push him closer. His hips bucked up, hands sliding to grip your ass, tongue tracing the curve of your neck as he teetered on the edge, finally collapsing over the precipice in a shuddering release. He groaned your name as he emptied himself, breath coming out in ragged pants as he laid his head back, slowly rocking out his aftershocks.

When he’d stilled, you exhaled in satisfaction, only to suck in a breath as he lifts you off him, laying you back onto the lounger, hands prying your trembling legs apart. His eyes lift as he tucks himself back into his slacks, slotting himself between your thighs.

Then, with quiet reverence, he laps his tongue across your folds, gathering the slick, glistening evidence of your joined releases. Even as the salty bite of his cum slides over his tongue he continues, swallowing the tangy globs that dribbled from your puffy slit. 

“So perfect,” he coos, thumbs rubbing soothing half-circles against your hipbones as he cleaned, tongue tracing every sensitive nerve of your cunt, drawing a shiver from you. 

When you had been cleaned as best as possible, he leaned back, chin shimmering with your release.

“You got a ride home?” He questioned, elbows resting on his knees from his crouched position, a thin brow raising curiously.

“I walk home.” you answer shakily, drawing in a breath of air that does little to fill your lungs. He clicks his tongue against his teeth in response, obviously displeased. 

“Go do what you gotta do to quit, I’ll bring my car ‘round front.”

With that, Hiromi stands, leaning over to press a gentle kiss to your sweat-damp forehead before situating his tie and turning away, striding to the door and stepping out, shutting it behind him.

He doesn’t even care when he catches the few gawks of lingering people in the halls staring at the very, very noticeable dark patch on the crotch of his slacks. Instead, he raises his glistening chin high, striding towards the exit like a soldier returning home from a war well fought, his tastebuds singing gospel from the lingering taste of you on his tongue.

Yeah, Hiromi Higaruma hates strip clubs, but he loooooves you.

[kamoswrld]

on the house

content: 18+ mdni! nanami x fem reader, dilf nanami, divorcee nanami, bartender reader, titty bar scene, ft takuma ino hehe! smut with a little plot, bit angsty, soft dom nanami, he can get a little rough, smirk smirk. car sex, bj, face sitting, squirting, unprotected p in v, doggy style, cum shot

eli’s notes: whewww i saw @/aransmind post this fanart and my mind got to workkk, LMAO this is 2.3k words, i hope you enjoy! i love fulfilling the nanami agenda <3

“oh come on, mr nanami!” you hear one of your usuals ino whine. “that wasn’t a scratch!”

you glance over from behind the bar, wiping down a sticky counter with a rag that’s seen better days. the bar hums with low chatter, clinking glasses, and the sharp crack of pool balls colliding. ino’s got his hands thrown up, face twisted in mock defeat as nanami straightens up from the table, cue stick resting easy in his grip.

that man—kento nanami—moves with a quiet confidence that pulls eyes without trying. he’s been coming in here for weeks now, always with ino trailing behind like a eager pup, and sometimes a couple other guys who bet small and lose big against him.

he’s a pro pool player—you’ve heard the whispers, the half-drunken claims from your other regulars who swear they’ve seen him win tournaments without letting the other players even get a turn—but it’s the way he handles the cue that confirms it. smooth, precise and calculated. every movement deliberate like he’s already mapped the shot in his head before the tip ever touches the ball. every stroke is clean, confident. every sink in each pocket feels inevitable.

your eyes linger longer than they should. it’s hard not to. his forearms flex as he lines up a shot, thick muscle shifting beneath skin dusted with fine golden hair. the sleeves of his blue button-up are rolled just past his elbows, fabric creased where it strains around him, veins standing out—prominent, roped, alive—as his grip tightens and releases with practiced ease.

there’s something mesmerizing about the repetition of it: line up, breathe, strike, win.

you’ve overheard things too. the real stuff. late nights, when the bar gets quiet, when ino’s nursing his third beer, slouched against the counter and nanami’s staring into his whiskey like it might offer answers if he looks hard enough.

“it’s final,” he’d said once, his voice low, steady in a way that makes it sound like he’s already accepted it, even if his eyes hadn’t caught up yet. “the divorce papers are signed.”

a pause then a swallow.

“she didn’t fight for custody at all. left me with full rights to our girl.”

ino had clapped him on the back then, trying to soften the blow with some dumb joke about single dad life, about being a dilf, about women lining up. you remember how forced his laugh sounded in response—barely there, gone too fast.

because nanami’s eyes had looked…hollow. not broken. not messy. just tired in a way that felt heavier than exhaustion like he was carrying the entire world of a three-year-old on his shoulders now and refusing to set it down, even for a moment.

it’s sad, really. a cruel twist for a man who seems so solid. so reliable. the kind of man who shows up. the kind who doesn’t cut corners, who probably memorizes bedtime routines and doctor appointments and never once complains about the weight of it all. a man who would do anything for the people he loves—and do it with no hesitation.

and yet—fuck.

he’s gorgeous, his broad shoulders filling out his button-down like it was tailored just for him. that sharp jaw catching the dim bar lights when he tilts his head, hazel eyes steady and observant beneath lashes that always seem unfairly long. there’s a seriousness to him but not coldness—depth, the kind you want to sink into just to see how far it goes.

tonight, the bar’s thinning out. the neon signs hum softly, casting colored halos over sticky floors. the dancers sway on the small stage in the corner, topless and unbothered, moving to music that bleeds into the background like white noise. it’s a familiar scene—tipsy stares, wandering hands, loud laughter—but nanami never joins in. never ogles. never makes it weird.

he plays the game, tips well, thanks you every time you slide his drink over with that calm, polite murmur. a gentleman in a place that rarely rewards it.

and something in you finally snaps into place.

you decide it’s time.

screw waiting for him to see you as more than the bartender who knows his order and keeps his glass full. screw pretending your pulse doesn’t jump every time his eyes flick your way.

you pour him a fresh whiskey on the rocks but you don’t slide it across the counter like usual. instead, you hold onto it.

you step out from behind the bar, your tight top clinging to your tits just right, shorts hugging your hips so perfectly that you know damn well it's doing the job. you cross the room, heels clicking softly against the floor. nanami’s at the pool table, racking up for another round, his posture relaxed but focused.

you stop beside him and set the glass down on the edge of the felt. the ice clinks softly, a sharp sound in the quiet moment you’ve carved out just for the two of you.

“hey, winner,” you say, keeping your tone casual even if your heart’s not cooperating.

he looks up. those eyes meet yours, attentive and curious.

“on the house,” you add, lips curving just a little. “you’ve been cleaning up tonight.”

nanami turns toward you, hazel eyes locking onto yours, surprise flickering there before it softens into something warmer. he snuffs out his cigarette, sets the cue aside, and accepts the drink with a brief nod.

“i appreciate it,” he murmurs, his voice deep and even, gravel wrapped in silk.

you can almost see the gears turning as his gaze drags over you, slow and certainly sensual. it’s not like he’s never looked at you before—but tonight, something’s different.

maybe it’s tonight is the anniversary he’s supposed to be forgetting.

maybe it’s the fact that his ex-wife has finally moved on.

or maybe he’s just tired—of coming here every night after work, of playing pool until his fingers ache, of getting drunk enough to leave in a taxi with a couple hundred in his pocket and no one waiting at home but the nanny and his little girl already tucked in bed.

maybe he’s just lonely.

he takes a sip, then tilts his head slightly. “you know, i was thinking…” his eyes flick back to yours. “you got anything better than whiskey on the rocks? i need something a lot stronger.”

a faint smirk curves his mouth—just enough to show you a side of him you haven’t seen before. he steps closer, close enough that his voice drops when he leans in to murmur near your ear.

“maybe something…sweeter, hm?”

your lips curve into a sly smile as he pulls back, your heartbeat kicking up because he’s biting.

“you know what?” you say lightly. “yeah. actually. something a lot smoother.”

you jerk your chin toward the back. “follow me?”

he pauses, glancing at ino who’s already grinning like an idiot, but nanami just sets the glass down and gestures for you to lead. you weave through the back door, out into the cool night air of the parking lot, your car parked in the shadows away from the streetlights. the keys jingle in your hand as you unlock it, sliding into the backseat first, the leather creaking under you. he follows without a word, door shutting behind him with a solid thud, sealing you both in this private bubble.

the space is tight, intimate, and you waste no time, leaning in to capture his mouth in a kiss that starts hungry and turns desperate fast. his lips are firm, tasting like whiskey and that restraint finally snapping. his hands—big, calloused from whatever life he’s led—cup your face gently at first, then slide down to your waist, pulling you closer. your tongues tangle, breaths mingling hot and heavy. you can feel the tension in him uncoil with every kiss, his body pressing into yours with a need that matches the fire building in your core.

you break away just enough to whisper against his jaw, “been wanting this,” before trailing kisses down his neck, fingers working at his belt buckle with eager tugs.

he groans low, head tipping back against the seat as you free him from his slacks—and it's just perfect. his cock springing out, slapping against his abdomen. it's thick and heavy, veins pulsing under your touch.

you immediately shift down, knees hitting the floorboard in the cramped space. you take him in your hand, stroking slow to feel every ridge, every throb, your thumb rubbing over the slit.

“fuck, that’s good,” he breathes, voice rougher now, fingers threading into your hair—not pulling, just guiding. “look at you—being so good for me, sweetheart. taking charge like this.”

you meet his gaze, eyes dark with want, and lean in, tongue flicking over the tip to taste the salty bead there. then you swallow him down, lips stretching around his girth, cheeks hollowing as you bob deep. he’s big, filling your mouth completely, but you work him with messy enthusiasm—slurping, sucking, hand twisting at the base where you can’t reach. his praises spill out like honeyed gravel.

“g-god, just like that—your mouth feels so good, baby. you’re doing so well, don't stop.”

the words send sparks straight to your clit, thighs squeezing together as you hum around him, vibrations making him buck slightly. he cusses under his breath, grip tightening in your hair.

you push further, nose brushing his pelvis, throat relaxing to take him all. tears prick your eyes from the stretch, but it’s worth it for the way he gasps, “god—pl-please, k-keep going, beautiful. you’ve got me right there.”

he swells on your tongue, hips stuttering, and with a guttural moan, he cums—hot ropes flooding your mouth, salty and thick. you swallow every drop, milking him through it until he’s spent, chest heaving.

nanami pulls you up gently, kissing you deep despite the taste of himself on your lips. “now, be a good girl for me,” he says, voice husky, laying back as much as the seat allows. “and sit on my face, sweetheart—let me taste you properly.”

you waste no time and shimmy out of your shorts and panties. your heart racing as you straddle him carefully, knees on either side of his head. he grips your thighs, pulling you down onto his mouth with a hunger that surprises you. his tongue dives in immediately—messy laps through your folds, slurping up your wetness like he’s starved. but it’s precise. much like him playing pool, circling your clit with firm pressure, then dipping inside to fuck you with it.

you grind down, hands braced on the car's roof, soft moans spilling out as he devours you—a bit of a beard stubble scraping your inner thighs, nose bumping your clit while his tongue probes deep.

“oh fuck, k-ken—right there, don’t stop,” you gasp, hips rolling to chase the building heat.

he hums in approval, vibrations buzzing through you, and sucks your clit between his lips, his tongue flicking against it relentlessly. it hits hard—your orgasm crashing over you in waves, juices coating his face as you tremble and cry out.

“come here, sweetheart. come sit on my lap.” he pants out, stroking his semi-hard cock back to life.

breathless, you slide down his body, and he sits up straighter against the backseat, pants shoved all the way down. without another word, you turn, positioning yourself with hands gripping the driver and passenger seats for leverage, body arched between the center console. ass up, you sink back onto him—his cock sliding into your soaked pussy inch by inch, stretching you full. it burns in the best way possible, your wet cunt sucking him in like it never wants to let him go.

“fuck, yes—you feel perfect, baby. so tight, so warm around me,” he groans, hands settling on your waist, thumbs digging in.

for the first time in months, nanami can't think about anything else but you. how pretty you are, the sound of your voice, your soft moans each time the tip of his dick presses up against your cervix. how amazing you feel wrapped around his cock. how soft your skin is against his. how the taste of your sweetness lingers on his tongue. how absolutely perfect you are for him.

how he doesn't know how he's ever going to get enough of you now.

you bounce back, ass slapping against his hips with each thrust, the angle hitting deep.

he’s a little rough but gentle—thrusts powerful yet controlled, one hand sliding up to slap your ass lightly, the sting blooming into heat. “that’s it, fuck me back, sweetheart. show me how much you want it.”

you pick up the pace, velvety walls clenching around his thickness, the car rocking slightly, windows already fogging from your shared breaths. his grip on your hips tightens, guiding your movements, and he leans forward to kiss your shoulder, murmuring,

“you’re doing so good, taking every inch. cum for me again—i want to feel you squeeze me.”

his praise tips you over—another wave of pleasure ripping through you, pussy pulsing around him as you gasp his name.

“g-god, yes. good fucking girl.” he groans, squeezing your ass, feeling your release coat his cock and thighs. his breathing gets heavier as his climax quickly approaches.

only then does he pull out, stroking himself fast until he cums hot across your ass, thick ropes painting your skin.

the windows are fully steamed, the air thick with sex and satisfaction. he pulls you back into his arms with a soft, “come here, sweetheart. let me hold you for a little, yeah?” keeping you close in the afterglow. he brushes hair out of your face, pressing a kiss to your sweaty forehead.

he cups your cheek, giving you that soft polite smile you've come to know since he first set foot in your bar.

“i take that was on the house too?”

KAMOSWRLD 2025 ©

masterlist!

tags - @motel6killer @cupidstrace @leiceed @kunababy @1stqueenofhell @whimsic @jjukjus @callsign-honeybeewildfox2

[lemxnns]

BIRTHDAY B★Y!

── synopsis .✦ telling your husband, toji fushiguro, that the pair of you can do anything he wants for his birthday ends badly when you forget just how dirty-minded he is. worse, he’s pent-up, tired, and has been taking mental notes every time you’ve teased him without meaning to. by the time you realise your mistake, he’s already decided that birthday plans are cancelled, rescheduled, and relocated entirely… and you’re the main event.

── contains .✦ fem!reader, pure smut with little/no plot, p in v, mating press, doggystyle, full nelson, multiple orgasms, creampies, squirting, teasing, degrading (brief), praise kink, breeding kink, strength kink, size kink, cockdrunk!reader, pussydrunk!toji, overstimulation, manhandling, rough sex, soft sex, marathons, mdni!

── word count .✦ 5.1k!

The dim light of the bedside lamp cast long shadows across the room, flickering just enough to highlight the sweat-slicked skin of Toji and you. 

It was his birthday, and you’d made it clear from the moment he walked through the door that tonight was all about him. 

“Anything you want.” You’d whispered against his lips, your hands already tugging at his shirt. His grin had been predatory, eyes darkening with that familiar hunger as he scooped you up without a word, carrying you straight to the bed.

Now, hours later - or was it minutes? Time blurred in the haze of relentless pleasure - Toji had you folded beneath him in a brutal mating press. 

His massive frame loomed over you, thighs pinning your legs back until your knees nearly touched your shoulders, exposing your dripping core completely. His thick cock, veined and unrelenting, speared deep into your pussy with every punishing thrust, the wet slap of skin on skin echoing through the room. 

You’d lost count of the rounds, each one bleeding into the next as he kept you locked in place, refusing to let up. Your body trembled, walls clenching around him in desperate, overstuffed spasms, but he didn’t stop. Couldn’t stop.

“Fuck, look at you.” Toji rasped, his voice rough and breathless, chest heaving as he drove in deeper. Sweat dripped from his brow onto your collarbone, his dark hair slick against his forehead. 

He was a beast, muscles bulging with every grind of his hips, but even he was fraying at the edges - groans spilling from his lips unbidden, breath coming in sharp pants. “Takin’ my cock like a goddamn champ. Birthday gift ain’t—shit, so tight—bad, huh?”

You tried to respond, but the words slurred out in a pathetic whine, your mind fogged from the stretch of him filling you so completely. “Y-Yeah—mmh!—s’good, Toji…” 

Your head lolled back against the pillows, eyes half-lidded and glassy, every nerve ending alight with the burn of his girth dragging against your insides. 

Cockdrunk didn’t even cover it; you were utterly wrecked, reduced to a babbling mess hooked on the way he split you open.

He chuckled low, the sound vibrating through his chest as he shifted his weight, hooking his arms under your knees to press you even tighter. The angle let him bottom out harder, the fat head of his cock kissing your cervix with each slam. 

“Yeah? Tell me how much you love it. C’mon, baby, use that p–pretty mouth.” His teasing was merciless, but his own control was slipping - his thrusts grew erratic, hips stuttering as your pussy milked him greedily.

’Love it—fuck!—love your cock... shooo big...’ The syllables tumbled out sloppy and slow, your tongue heavy in your mouth. 

You could feel the slick mess between your thighs, his cum from the previous loads mixing with your arousal, leaking out around where he stuffed you full. It was obscene, filthy, and it only made you clench tighter, chasing that building pressure in your core.

Toji groaned, head dropping to nip at your neck, teeth grazing the sensitive skin. “Shit, you’re squeezin’ me so tight. This—hnn, f–fuckin’ slut—this pussy’s got me fucked up.”

He was pussydrunk, addicted to the velvet heat gripping him, the way your walls fluttered and sucked him in like they never wanted to let go. He’d already cum once earlier, flooding you deep while you screamed through your first peak, but the sensation was too intoxicating to pull out. Why stop when it felt this good to keep pounding into you, to mark you inside out?

His pace quickened, hips snapping forward with brutal force, the bed creaking under the assault. You felt it coiling low in your belly again, that second orgasm creeping up faster than the first. 

“Toji..! Oh god, gonna- gonna cum!” Your voice cracked, slurring into a needy plea as your fingers scrabbled at his broad shoulders, nails digging into the flexing muscle.

“Y-Yeah? Cum on my dick then. Milk me dry, sweetheart.” He panted the words against your ear, his own breath ragged, groans punctuating each thrust. 

He hooked one hand around your thigh to hold you open wider, the other bracing beside your head as he rutted into you like an animal. The pressure built unbearably, your clit grinding against his pelvis with every plunge, sparks shooting up your spine.

It hit you like a freight train - your nth orgasm crashing over you, pussy convulsing wildly around his cock. You cried out, back arching as much as the position allowed, walls rippling in waves that tried to push him out even as they pulled him deeper. 

“Fuckfuckfuck! Ngh, s’good!” The words dissolved into incoherent babbles, your body shaking uncontrollably, juices squirting out around his shaft in messy spurts.

Toji hissed through his teeth, the tight spasms nearly undoing him right then. “Goddamn, that’s it... so fuckin’ wet for me.”

He didn’t slow, powering through your climax with gritted determination, his cock throbbing inside your spasming heat. Sweat poured down his back, muscles straining as he chased his own release, the drag of your pussy too perfect, too addictive to resist any longer.

“Can’t... fuck—gonna fill you up again.” He growled, voice breaking on a deep moan. 

His hips slammed forward one last time, burying himself to the hilt as he came, thick ropes of cum erupting from his tip to paint your insides white. He shuddered above you, groans turning guttural, body locking up as he pumped every drop into you. 

But even as the aftershocks wracked him, he didn’t pull out - couldn’t. The warmth of your pussy hugging him post-orgasm was heaven, and he was too far gone to stop now.

You whimpered beneath him, oversensitive and still slurring, “M–More... gimme more, pleaseee…” Your mind was a haze, cockdrunk haze sharpening every sensation, making you crave the burn despite the ache.

Toji lifted his head, smirking through his labored breaths, eyes dark with lust. 

“More? Greedy little thing. Thought you said I get to pick tonight.” He rolled his hips experimentally, stirring his fresh load inside you, the lewd squelch making you both groan. He was still hard - impossibly so - his stamina a weapon as he started thrusting again, slower at first to build the rhythm back up.

The position kept you pinned, helpless to do anything but take it, your legs trembling from the strain. “Toji, s’ too much... but don’ stop!” The words came out mushy, your lips parting on a gasp as he picked up speed, the friction reigniting that fire in your core.

“Gotta pick one, ma.” He teased, voice husky and strained. 

Another groan escaped him as your pussy clenched in response, still fluttering from your last high. He was addicted beyond reason, the slick glide of your combined releases making each slide smoother, deeper.

Adjusting his grip, one large hand splayed across your lower belly to feel the bulge of his cock moving inside you. The pressure made you keen, hips bucking weakly against him. 

“Feel that? That’s me, ownin’ this sweet—mmf—pussy. All mine tonight.” His teasing drew a slurred moan from you, your responses devolving further into needy sounds.

“Y–Yours..! All yours– ah, harder!” You were lost in it, the world narrowing to the thick length pistoning in and out, stretching you to your limits. Every withdrawal left you empty and whining, every plunge filled you to bursting.

Toji obliged, grunting with effort as he folded you tighter, his thighs pressing your legs back until your ass lifted off the bed. The new angle let him hit that spot inside you relentlessly, sparks exploding behind your eyes. “Like that?”

“Like it... love it... Toji, please!” Slurred and desperate, your voice broke on his name, fingers tangling in the sheets as the pleasure bordered on pain.

He was breathing harder now, chest rising and falling rapidly, but his eyes burned with that unyielding hunger. “Good girl. Keep talkin’ dirty f’me.” 

Another deep thrust, and you felt the coil tightening again, even though you’d just cum. The continuous motion kept you on the edge, body hypersensitive and craving more.

The room filled with the sounds of your union: the wet smack of his balls against your ass, your shared pants and moans, the creak of the mattress protesting under his weight. Toji’s hand slid up to pinch your nipple, rolling it roughly between his fingers, drawing a sharp cry from your lips.

“Fuck, you’re so responsive, ma. This body’s made for my cock.” He leaned down, capturing your mouth in a messy kiss, tongues tangling as he swallowed your slurred whimpers. His groans vibrated into you, betraying how close he was to the edge again, but he held back, savoring the drag of your walls.

You broke the kiss with a gasp, head thrashing. “G–Gonna cum again, ’Ji!” The words were barely coherent, but he understood, hips snapping faster, chasing your pleasure to fuel his own addiction.

“Cum f’me, pretty girl. Wanna feel you—nhh—soak my dick.” His voice was wrecked, breath hot against your skin as he pounded into you, the pressure building to a fever pitch.

It shattered you - your body seizing in ecstasy, pussy clamping down like a vice as waves of bliss rolled through you. You screamed his name, or tried to, the sound garbled and raw, squirting around him in hot gushes that soaked his groin. Stars burst in your vision, limbs going limp in his hold.

Toji cursed, the vice-like grip pushing him over despite his earlier release. “Shit—fuck!” 

He buried deep, cumming hard once more, but this one felt even more intense, his cock pulsing as he flooded you anew. Groans tore from his throat, body trembling as he rode it out, hips grinding to wring out every spurt.

But he didn’t stop. Couldn’t. As the high faded, he kept moving, slow and deep, stirring the creamy mess inside you. 

“One more round.” He panted, voice thick with need. “Can’t get enough of this pussy.”

You nodded weakly, slurring, “Don’ have t’stop... ’s your birthday…” Your mind floated, cockdrunk and sated yet hungry, as he built the pace again.

Toji’s arms trembled slightly from the exertion, but his strength never wavered—that raw, unyielding power that always made your pulse race. With a low grunt, he slid his hands under your thighs, gripping the soft flesh firmly. 

“Up you go.” He murmured, voice rough from the strain. 

In one fluid motion, he lifted you off the bed, your legs still hooked over his arms as he stood, his cock never leaving the tight clasp of your pussy. The sudden change in position made you gasp, the new depth hitting different, his tip nudging deeper into your oversensitive walls. 

You clung to his shoulders, nails scraping over the sweat-dampened skin, but he held you steady, biceps flexing like steel cables.

“W–What’re you…” You questioned, the words tumbling out in awe, your head dropping to his chest as he adjusted his hold. The power he had over you made him smirk, a flash of white teeth in the dim light, and he bounced you lightly on his length, testing the angle.

“Just hold on a minute, ma.” His breath was hot against your ear, one arm wrapping around your waist while the other hooked under your knee, keeping you spread wide. But he wasn’t done repositioning. “C’mere.”

With a shift of his weight, he turned you effortlessly, your back pressing to his broad chest as he locked his arms behind your head in a full nelson. Your elbows were pinned, arms useless above you, your body suspended and exposed, legs dangling apart with his cock still buried to the hilt. 

The stretch was immediate and intense - your pussy forced open around his girth, the position leaving you completely at his mercy. Gravity pulled you down harder onto him, every inch of his thick shaft grinding against your insides as he held you aloft.

“Toji— o–oh...” You whimpered, the mixing of words thicker now, your voice breaking on the vulnerability of it all. 

Being held like this, folded and controlled by his sheer power, sent a rush of heat through you. His muscles bulged against your skin, the veins in his forearms standing out as he kept you locked in place, and you could feel the controlled strain in his body, the way he breathed steadily despite the effort.

He chuckled darkly, the sound rumbling through his chest into your back. “Look at you, all folded up and helpless. This what you wanted me t’have for my birthday? Me usin’ you like—haah, stop t–tightenin’ up—a fucktoy?” 

His hips rolled upward experimentally, the motion lifting you slightly before letting you sink back down, his cock dragging slow and deliberate along your walls. The fullness was overwhelming, your clit exposed to the air, ass brushing against his pelvis with each subtle thrust.

“Y-Yeah, so strong…” The words came out mushy, laced with that cockdrunk haze, but the sincerity shone through. Your body trembled in his grip, the position keeping you arched, breasts thrust forward, every nerve attuned to the power radiating from him.

Toji groaned, the vibration traveling straight to your core. He was gone too, the way your slick heat enveloped him from this angle too perfect to ignore. 

“Shit, you’re tight like this. Grippin’ me so good, baby.” He started moving then, not rushing, just a steady rhythm - lifting you an inch or two with his arms before dropping you back onto his cock, the wet slide echoing in the room. His thighs flexed beneath you, absorbing the impact, his free hand occasionally drifting to squeeze your hip or pinch your nipple, drawing out sharp gasps.

The pace was torturously slow at first, each descent letting you feel the veined length of him parting your folds, the head catching on that sensitive ridge inside before plunging deeper. You could hear his breaths coming heavier, controlled grunts punctuating the air as he worked you up and down. 

“Y’feel me? Every fuckin’ inch stretchin’ you out.” He nuzzled into your neck, teeth grazing the skin, his stubble scraping roughly.

Your head fell back against his shoulder, eyes fluttering shut as the sensations built gradually. “So deep... Toji, you’re—u–ugh!—fillin’ me up!” Dizzy and needy, your voice cracked, body rocking with his movements. 

The full nelson amplified everything - your immobility making you hyperaware of his strength, the way his arms didn’t budge no matter how you squirmed. It turned you on fiercely, that kink igniting as you imagined him tossing you around like this for hours.

He picked up the tempo just a fraction, hips thrusting up to meet your downward slide, the slap of your ass against his groin growing rhythmic. Cum from his previous loads leaked out with each withdrawal, trickling down his balls, but he didn’t care - thrusting back in to push it deeper. 

His hand released your neck to slide between your legs, fingers finding your clit and rubbing slow, firm circles that matched his pace. “Not rushin’ this, pretty baby. Wanna enjoy my present.”

The dual stimulation had you moaning steadily, the pressure coiling low but not cresting yet - he was dragging it out, savoring the build. You tried to grind down harder, but the position left you powerless, dependent on his control. 

“Pl—ah, fuck! Can’t– can’t think when y–you do that…” You babbled, fixated on the flex of his biceps against your ears, the unyielding hold that screamed dominance.

Toji’s response was a ragged groan, his cock twitching inside you at the praise. “Fuck, you love this shit, don’t ya? Me holdin’ you open ’nd fuckin’ you senseless.”

He bounced you higher now, the lift more pronounced, letting gravity do the work on the drop - your pussy swallowing him whole each time, walls fluttering around the invasion. Sweat slicked the connection between your bodies, his chest heaving against your back as he maintained the position without faltering.

Minutes stretched, the room filled with the obscene sounds of your joining - the squelch of his cock plunging into the messy heat, your slurred whimpers, his deepening pants. He varied the rhythm, sometimes holding you still to grind deep, circling his hips to stir you from the inside, the fat head of his dick pressing insistently against your cervix. Other times, he’d thrust shallowly, teasing your entrance before slamming home, drawing out cries that dissolved into nonsense.

“Keep talkin’.” He demanded breathlessly, fingers pressing harder on your clit, rolling it with precise pressure. “Tell me how much you need this dick in you.”

“Need it s’much, ’Ji! I need you… need you so bad, I– I can’t—.” The words spilled out in a haze, your mind lost to the sensation of being utterly possessed. Your legs kicked weakly in the air, toes curling as the pleasure simmered, building layer by layer without mercy.

He growled in approval, the sound primal, and shifted his stance wider for better leverage. Now he was truly powering through, lifting you fully off him before impaling you again. His muscles burned - you could feel the tension in his arms, the subtle tremor of effort that only made your cunt impossibly wetter. 

He was a machine, tireless, his cock throbbing with each descent, veins pulsing against your clenching walls.

“That’s it, take it all. This pussy’s m–mine to wreck.” His voice was strained, groans slipping out as your heat milked him relentlessly. 

He leaned forward slightly, changing the angle so his thrusts hit that spongy spot inside you dead-on, sparks igniting with every pass. But he kept it measured, drawing out the friction, letting the tension wind tighter without snapping.

Your body responded on instinct, inner muscles rippling around him, chasing more despite the ache. “I forget how big you—mm—how you feel…” Slurring turned to outright babbling, your breaths syncing with his as the coil in your belly tightened incrementally. His fingers on your clit slowed, teasing now—light flicks that kept you hovering on the edge, the position ensuring you couldn’t do a thing but endure the torment.

He nipped at your shoulder, teeth sinking in just enough to mark. ’Not yet. Wanna feel you beggin’ first.’ Another deep grind, holding you seated fully, his pelvis flush against yours, pubic bone grinding your clit indirectly. The pressure was exquisite, building that fire without quenching it, his strength the anchor keeping you suspended in bliss.

“Feels too good… can’t– don’t stop… please, Toji— don’t—” You whined, every flex of his arms sending jolts straight to your cunt. He was everywhere: surrounding you, controlling you, his power a tangible force that amplified the pleasure tenfold.

Satisfied with your pleas, he resumed the thrusts, faster now but still controlled, each drop letting you feel the stretch anew. The room spun in your vision, the continuous motion turning your limbs to jelly. His groans grew louder, breath hot and erratic against your neck, betraying how the tight squeeze was fraying his edges too. 

“Fuck, stop squeezin’ me, ma… hngh—gonna make me lose it.” But he held on, dragging it out further - thrusting in short, sharp bursts that kept the rhythm unpredictable, then slowing to long, languid slides that let you savor the drag. 

His hand abandoned your clit to grip your thigh instead, spreading you wider, the nelson tightening to arch your back more. Fingers dug into your flesh, bruises forming under his touch, a reminder of his dominance.

The build was agonizingly slow, pleasure layering until it bordered on overwhelming. You could feel every ridge of him, the way his cock pulsed with his heartbeat, the slick glide eased by the mess between you. 

“Ahn, Toooji! Can’t hold it..!” Your voice was a wrecked slur, body tensing in his unyielding arms.

“Yeah you can. Wait for me.” He panted, hips snapping up harder, the impacts jolting through you and causing your tits to bounce. 

Finally, after what felt like an eternity of teasing thrusts and grinding holds, the dam broke. Your orgasm crashed over you in shuddering waves, pussy convulsing around his cock in rhythmic squeezes, juices flooding out to coat his length. 

You cried out, the sound garbled and raw, back bowing in the nelson as ecstasy ripped through you. “Toji! Yes—fuck!”

The spasms pushed him over, his third release hitting hard. “Shit—takin’ it all…” 

He buried deep, hips jerking as hot spurts filled you again, groans vibrating against your skin. His arms locked tighter, holding you impaled through the pulses, refusing to let the connection break.

But even as you both trembled in the aftershocks, he didn’t set you down right away. His arms, still locked in the full nelson, held you suspended a moment longer, his cock twitching inside your spasming pussy as the last spurts of his cum painted your walls. Your body went limp in his grip, breaths coming in ragged gasps, the intensity leaving you boneless and spent.

Finally, with a soft, strained groan, Toji loosened his hold. 

“Easy now.” He murmured, voice rough but carrying that familiar edge of control, the dominance peeking through the exhaustion. 

He lowered you carefully toward the bed, but your weakened limbs gave way mid-descent, causing you to flop forward onto the mattress in a boneless heap: face down, your ass instinctively lifting just enough to present your cum-dripping pussy and cheeks to him, thighs splayed wide from the lingering haze of pleasure.

He knelt behind you now, eyes dark and hooded as he took in the view. 

Thick ropes of his cum, mixed with your own juices, began to ooze from your stretched hole, trickling down your inner thighs in lazy rivulets. The sight was obscene, your pussy puffy and red from the hours of relentless pounding, lips parted slightly as more of his seed leaked out, pooling on the sheets beneath your raised hips. 

Toji’s breath hitched, a low whimper escaping his lips - uncharacteristic for him, but the sensitivity from his last orgasm made every throb of his cock ache with lingering pleasure.

“Fuck... look at that.” He whispered, almost to himself, one hand reaching out to spread your folds wider with his thumb and fingers. 

He watched intently as another glob of cum pushed free, the creamy white contrasting against your flushed skin. His cock, still half-hard and glistening with your combined mess, twitched visibly, the sight reigniting that primal hunger despite the fatigue.

You were too wrecked to respond coherently, your body heavy and mind foggy, face buried in the pillow with soft, slurred breaths escaping. The position you landed in left you exposed and vulnerable, ass up and quivering, your back arched faintly as if begging for more without words.

Toji’s eyes locked on the presentation, a ragged whimper slipping out as his cock hardened fully again, the sensitivity making it pulse with a mix of pain and need.

 “Goddamn, you do that on purpose, don’t ya? Fuckin’ temptin’ me like this.” His voice was breathy, almost predatory now, the whimper underscoring his building intensity. 

He couldn’t resist - crawling over you with a predatory glint in his eye, his body hovering like a shadow before he attacked again, hands gripping your hips firmly to pull you back against him.

He aligned himself, the fat head of his cock nudging your entrance, smearing the leaking cum back inside with a shallow push that made you both gasp. 

“Guess you’re too sensitive for this, huh? But damn, you look too fuckin’ good like this, all spread out and drippin’ for me.” He said, the apology casual, tossed out like he knew it was expected but didn’t really care - his tone laced with that knowing smirk, lips brushing your shoulder in a lazy kiss, stubble grazing your skin as he sank in inch by inch. 

The overstimulation hit hard - your walls fluttering weakly around his thickness, clenching on the intrusion despite the exhaustion, while his hypersensitive shaft throbbed with every velvety squeeze, drawing a shaky whimper from deep in his chest.

Once fully sheathed, he draped his massive frame over your back, chest pressing into your spine like a warm, unyielding weight, one arm sliding under your waist to hoist your hips higher into the perfect angle. His free hand tangled in your hair gently, tilting your head just enough to expose your neck for another lazy kiss, his tongue flicking out to taste the salt of your sweat. 

“So perfect... t–takin’ me so deep, even now. My good girl, lettin’ me—hah, shit—wreck you like this.” he praised softly, voice laced with whimpers as he bottomed out, hips grinding slow, deliberate circles that stirred his cum inside you, making obscene squelching sounds with each rotation.

The pace started unhurried, his thrusts measured and deep, pulling back until just the tip kissed your entrance - teasing the sensitive nerves there - before sliding forward steadily, his balls slapping lightly against your clit with each full plunge. He savored the drag, the way your ass jiggled faintly against his pelvis, the ripple of your cheeks under his gripping fingers as he kneaded the flesh, spreading you wider to watch himself disappear into your soaked heat. 

“God, you’re grippin’ me...nnh!—so tight. Won’t let go, will you, ma?” He murmured teasingly against your ear, a quiet ’sorry’ slipping in as he nipped the lobe, but it came out half-hearted, more like an acknowledgment of your whimpers than genuine remorse. 

You arched into him with a muffled whine, the pillow soaking up your quiet pleas, your body responding on instinct: pushing back weakly to meet his rhythm, the position allowing him to hit that deep spot inside you over and over, building the pressure slow and relentless. 

Toji’s breaths came hot and uneven against your skin, his kisses trailing lazily down your spine, pausing to suck a mark into the curve of your shoulder blade. His hand under your waist roamed upward, cupping one breast to pinch and roll the nipple between rough fingers, the dual sensations making your walls spasm around him.

He shifted his weight slightly, angling his hips to grind against that spot with precision, the lazy thrusts turning into a hypnotic roll - forward, deep, hold, then withdraw just enough to let you feel the ache of emptiness before filling you again. 

Whimpers punctuated his praises now, his cock so oversensitive that each slide sent sparks of mingled pleasure-pain through him, but he chased it anyway, hips snapping a fraction harder when the need overtook the tenderness. 

“You’re doin’ so well... lettin’ me use this pretty pussy one more time.” His fingers intertwined with yours where they clutched the sheets, squeezing in rhythm with his movements, the emotional tether grounding the raw physicality.

The room filled with the wet sounds of his cock plunging into your cum-filled pussy, each thrust pushing more of the mixed fluids out around his girth, dripping down your thighs and soaking the bed further. 

Toji’s grip on your hips tightened, his thumbs digging into the soft flesh as he pulled you back harder onto him, the force making your body jolt forward with every impact. 

He leaned in closer, his chest fully flush against your back now, trapping you beneath his bulk while his hips pistoned steadily, the friction building heat between your bodies. Sweat slicked your skin where you connected, his muscles flexing with each controlled drive, showcasing the effortless power that had you hooked from the start.

“You sound so pretty when you’re desperate.” He cooed, voice dropping lower as he felt your inner muscles flutter in response to the relentless angle. 

He released your hair to brace one hand on the mattress beside your head, using the leverage to deepen his strokes, his cock dragging along your walls in long, unyielding glides that stretched you anew each time. 

The head bumped against your cervix with a dull, pleasurable ache, sending jolts up your spine that made your toes curl into the sheets. “N–Nhaa! Shooo deep!”

Toji noticed, chuckling breathlessly against your ear. “Yeah, right there, h–huh? Sorry, baby, but I know you love it when I go deep like this. Makes you—ngh—clench so fuckin’ tight.” The apology was light, teasing almost, as if he was just humoring your sensitivity while reveling in the control.

Your breaths came in short, desperate pants now, muffled into the pillow as the coil in your belly wound tighter with every deliberate push. He varied the rhythm just enough to keep you on edge - slow, grinding rolls that stirred his previous loads inside you, making your pussy feel impossibly full, followed by sharper thrusts that slapped his hips against your ass with a meaty smack. 

His free hand slid down your side, tracing the curve of your waist before dipping between your legs to circle your swollen clit with rough fingertips, the added stimulation making stars burst behind your eyelids.

Toji’s noises grew more frequent, his hypersensitive length pulsing with each velvet grip of your walls, the overstimulation turning every sensation into a razor-sharp edge of bliss. He buried his face in the crook of your neck, inhaling your scent as his lips parted to suck at the skin there, leaving a fresh bruise amid the constellation of marks he’d already painted on you. 

“Fuck... you’re gonna make me cum too quick again. This pussy’s too damn good, suckin’ me in like it never wants me to leave.” His words were punctuated by a particularly deep thrust, holding himself there as he ground his pelvis against you, the pressure on your clit intensifying under his fingers.

Finally, the tension snapped when he angled just right, his cock hitting that sweet spot while his fingers pressed firmly on your clit. “Mm– Toji!”

Your orgasm crashed over you in a shuddering rush, a keening moan escaping into the pillow as your pussy clamped down hard around him, rhythmic contractions milking his length with desperate squeezes. 

Juices gushed out weakly around his shaft, mixing with the cum already there, the slick mess easing his final thrusts as he chased his own release.

Toji’s hips stuttered, a deep, whimpering groan rumbling from his chest as he buried himself to the hilt one last time. Hot spurts of cum erupted from his cock, flooding your depths with thinner ropes now from the exhaustion, but still coating your walls in warmth, the creampie overflowing slightly to trickle down your thighs. 

He held you there, grinding shallowly to push it deeper, his body shuddering against yours in the throes of it, whimpers softening into satisfied sighs.

Staying seated inside you as he softened, Toji was reluctant to break the connection, his body collapsing gently over yours in a protective drape. Finally, he rolled you both to the side, still joined, his arms wrapping around your waist to hold you close.

 Lips pressed a final lazy kiss to your temple, his voice a smug rumble, thick with cocky satisfaction. “Damn, you really are the best birthday present a guy could ask for. Don’t think anythin’ is gonna top this present.”

a/n: happy birthday to my GLORIOUS king, husband, lover, etc etc, toji fushiguro!!!!!!!!!!!

dividers by @/uzmacchiato!

banner/toji pic made by me :3

[rawkuna]

୨୧ from arguing with toji to being bent over the kitchen counter

you don’t even remember how it started.

something about the dishes. or the fact that he left the door unlocked again. or maybe it was the way he rolled his eyes when you reminded him for the third time that you had a long day ahead tomorrow. it wasn’t even that serious—until it was. until voices were raised and words were thrown like knives, sharp and careless. until you were both standing in the middle of the kitchen, chests rising and falling, stubborn silence wedged between you like a wall neither of you knew how to climb.

“you always do this,” you snapped, arms crossed tight over your chest. “you act like nothing matters.”

“that’s because you make a big fuckin’ deal outta everything,” he bit back, jaw clenched. “can’t even breathe without you complainin’ about it.”

that one hurt. it landed, hard and unfair. and he knew it the second your face changed.

you turned to walk away. not because he won. not because he was right. but because if you stayed, you’d cry. and you hated crying in front of him.

but then—his hand caught your wrist.

you didn’t look at him. didn’t say a word.

“baby, i didn’t mean that,” he said, voice low. rough. “you know i didn’t.”

you swallowed hard. blinked fast.

“let go.”

but he didn’t. not yet.

“baby,” he murmured. and suddenly the anger cracked into something else—softer. sorrier. something that tugged at the part of you that always, always gave in.

when you finally turned to look at him, there was a tension in the air that wasn’t quite fury anymore. just heat. static. that dangerous pull that always snapped too tight when emotions ran high.

his gaze dropped to your mouth. and then it was over.

he pulled you in fast—hands gripping your waist, mouth crashing into yours like he needed to say sorry without words. teeth and tongue and breathless, angry kisses. you shoved at his chest, but not to push him away. just to grab at him harder. to feel him.

he muttered your name between kisses like a prayer, like a plea, like he hated how that look on your face made him feel—small. helpless. like the kind of man who didn’t deserve you.

“i‘m sorry,” he breathed, forehead pressed to yours. “fuck, baby, i didn’t mean it. you know i didn’t.”

your fingers twisted in the collar of his shirt, jaw clenched tight, trying not to cry. but he was already lifting you and setting you down on the cold edge of the kitchen counter, like he was trying to restart the moment, reshape it into something that didn’t ache.

“i’m an asshole,” he rasped, nosing along your cheek. “i know that. i fuck up. but i’d never—never wanna hurt you.”

his voice cracked. just barely. but it made your chest pull tight.

“let me make it right,” he whispered.

and then he was kissing down your throat, trailing heat along the places that made you weak, pulling your thighs around his hips like he needed you to keep him there. his hands slid up your shirt—slow, reverent now. like you were breakable and he hated that he ever treated you like anything less.

he kissed between your breasts, soft and slow, like penance. and then lower, until he was tugging your shorts down your legs, murmuring, “you’re everything to me, baby. i don’t say it enough, but you are.”

your breath caught when he kissed the inside of your thigh.

“just wanna take care of you,” he said, dragging his mouth up your skin. “show you how sorry i am.”

and then he was eating you out like it was the only thing that mattered. like worship. like he meant it when he said he was sorry. big hands holding your hips down when they jerked, tongue lapping at you with deep, messy strokes that made your head tip back, made your spine arch, made the anger dissolve into something hotter, wetter, needier.

you came with your hands in his hair, gasping his name like a question and an answer and a prayer all at once.

but he didn’t stop there.

he stood up, eyes dark, voice low. “can i fuck you here?” he asked, like it wasn’t already obvious.

you nodded, dazed. “please.”

and he didn’t wait. just dragged his sweats down, lined himself up, and slid in slow—so slow it made you whimper, eyes fluttering shut. he hissed through his teeth, gripping your thighs.

“tight fuckin’ pussy,” he groaned, head dropping to your shoulder. “always takes me so good.”

he moved like he was trying to memorize it. every squeeze. every gasp. every time your nails dug into his shoulders. he didn’t talk much after that—just soft curses and kisses, fucking into you like he meant every thrust to say what he couldn’t.

i’m sorry. i love you. i’m not going anywhere.

he buried his face in your neck, breath stuttering every time you clenched around him. every drag of his cock made the countertop creak beneath you, made your heels press tighter into the backs of his thighs. and he was so deep—so deep you swore he was carved to fit inside you, like there wasn’t a single space left untouched. no part of you unloved.

your arms wrapped around him, not because you were pulling him closer—he was already as close as he could be—but because you needed to hold something real. needed to hold him.

“fuck,” he whispered, voice thick. “you feel too good. i missed this—missed you.”

he kissed the underside of your jaw, then your cheek, then your lips, slow and messy and needy. you could taste yourself on his tongue. could feel the way he trembled just slightly, like he was holding something back.

his hand slid between your bodies, fingers brushing your clit in tight, wet little circles that made your back arch off the counter.

“you close again?” he asked, and you nodded, whimpering.

“gimme it,” he murmured. “cum on me again. c’mon, baby. i need it. need to feel it.”

you cried out when it hit—your whole body curling into him, thighs twitching around his hips, and he let out a sound that didn’t sound human. his hand fisted your shirt, like he was anchoring himself to you, like if he let go, he’d fall apart completely.

“shit—fuck—gonna cum—” he rasped, voice breaking. “can i? inside, baby—need to feel you around me, warm and full, please—”

you didn’t even think before whispering yes.

and he groaned. hips jerking forward as he spilled into you with a broken, desperate cry. it sounded like something he’d been holding in for days. for weeks.

he didn’t move right away. just slumped against you, breath hot and shaky against your collarbone, arms locked tight around your waist like he couldn’t let go even if he wanted to.

and maybe he didn’t want to.

“i mean it,” he said softly, after a long moment. “i’m sorry. i was a dick. i shouldn’t have said that shit. you didn’t deserve it.”

you ran your fingers through his hair, still trying to catch your breath. “i know,” you whispered.

he pulled back just enough to look at you. really look at you. eyes softer than they’d been all night.

“i love you,” he said, voice low. raw. “and i’m gonna keep saying it until you believe it. even when i fuck up. even when you’re mad at me. especially when you’re mad at me.”

your throat went tight.

and when he kissed you again—slower this time, more gentle than anything he’d done that night—it felt like the kind of sorry that mattered.

[mimuju-deactivated20260521]

olderbf!toji who's double your age but wears it like a badge of honor, smirking at stares when you're out together. he's all scarred muscle and salt-pepper stubble, towering over you in his beat-up leather jacket while you cling to his arm in your cute sundress. "what're they lookin' at, baby? jealous i snagged the prettiest doll in town?" he rumbles low, hand possessive on your lower back, fingers dipping just low enough to make you flush. doesn't give a fuck about the whispers—pulls you into a filthy alley kiss to prove it, growling "mine" against your lips.

olderbf!toji who teases your "youthful energy" mercilessly during lazy mornings. he wakes up to you bouncing on his morning wood, all eager and perky. "fuck—easy, kid. old man's joints ain't what they used to be." chuckles as you pout, but flips you easy—railing missionary with that stamina that proves him wrong. "still tight as a virgin. shit— gonna ruin you before breakfast."

olderbf!toji who fixes everything around the house with that handyman swagger, teaching you along the way. leaky faucet dripping at midnight? creaky door hinge driving you nuts? toji's already under the sink before you finish complaining, toolbox open on the floor, wifebeater riding up to show that scarred v-line. grease smears his forearms as he twists a wrench, grunting instructions. "c'mere, doll—hand me the pliers. yeah, like that. now tighten it slow, don't strip the threads." pulls you down onto his thigh mid-fix, steadying your hands with his massive ones, breath warm on your neck. "good girl. see? easy shit." when it's done, he tests the faucet with a satisfied nod, then hauls you up for a celebratory spin, grease smudging your cheek. "next lesson: changin' the oil. wear somethin' cute, alright?"

olderbf!toji who carries your shopping bags like it's nothing, even if they're designer hauls twice his age-appropriate style. you emerge from the mall loaded with bags; he scoops them all effortless, slinging them over one shoulder while his free arm hooks your waist. "c'mon, baby— lead the way." smirks at your blush, kissing your temple. "ain't lettin' my girl strain herself."

olderbf!toji who gets protective in public. some creep eyes you at the bar? toji's arm bands your waist, pulling you flush against his chest. "eyes up here, fucker—she's taken." later, in the truck, he hikes your skirt: "need a reminder of who owns you?" fingers you rough till you squirt on leather seats, his scar twitching smug.

olderbf!toji who loves spoiling you rotten with his bounty cash, but makes you "earn" it. he comes home with designer bags or that necklace you eyed, dumping them on the bed. "try it on—model for me." you twirl, and he's yanking you onto his lap, hands roaming. "atta girl. now ride me slow, say thank you proper." his thick fingers bruise your hips as you bounce, cock splitting you deep, whispering "this what you wanted, ain't it? so be a good girl n' take it."

tags - perm - @whorishminds @besidesjustmyamour @throatgoatgeto @go-go-gadget-autism @thecrazyfangirlthings @grignardsreagent @strawberryshortcakkitty @naammiii @liasacountgothacked @annicishana @my-starlights @error-racoon-404 @afreakforyautja @cupidstrace @iam-souless @sindulgent666 @chewiebee @tojisballhair @ex1acy @palanggaaa @yourlocalcatscammer @ehcilhc @gravecyte @restingoasis @satorupi @heliumshorns @laburantesdoll @misscounterfeit @thethyri @lostgeto @lilytrn @sweethearticism @mikaari0 @chososballhair @nanamissilkytie

[slvttyplum]

nanami fingering you to keep himself focused (˶˃ ᵕ ˂˶)

nanami likes to lazily finger you while he’s working late; it keeps him focused, and he likes feeling you squirm and needy nuzzled against him.

this night is like any other night; he’s in bed with his laptop on one leg and you snuggled beside him, two of his fingers softly rubbing over your bare, dripping core. 

you spread your thighs out further, and he slides one finger in, his finger coated with you.

nanami slides the finger out immediately and brings it to his mouth, sucking off your juices, then sliding his hand back down and sliding two fingers in, making your hips buck a little. 

“stay still, sweetheart,” he murmurs to you as he uses his other hand to scroll down on his computer, his two fingers inside of you pumping in and out steadily.

he keeps this rhythm forever, softly talking to himself about something work-related, his fingers curving up a little, making one of your thighs tremble. 

“…nanami”

your voice is soft and hoarse while you bury your face into his side, his rhythm getting a little faster, the sounds of your wetness filling the room. 

the sounds of your whimpering and lewd sounds from your messy pussy kept him focused; he loves knowing you’re right beside him making sure he’s on track, even if that meant he had to be two fingers deep inside of you.

your mouth opens against him with broken moans tumbling out, the ache for more making you grind into his rhythm. 

a wet spot is already forming beneath you, and there's drool on his shirt from you and your broken moans and the fact you can't close your mouth.

he speeds up, his fingers curving up inside of you, and you spread your thighs out more and wrap both your arms around his, your head now resting on his arm, drooling there. 

“you’re doing good baby just let it happen, okay?"

his palm hitting your clit while he speeds up makes you cry, your eyes squeezed shut from the intense pleasure building inside of your stomach about to release. 

“i've got you, let it out for me.”

his focus still on his laptop until he feels everything pour over, warm wetness hitting his whole hand and your thighs clamping around it. 

nanami slowly slides his fingers out, bringing them to your mouth, and finally looking at you and tossing his laptop on the other end of the bed and pulling you into his lap. 

“thank you, baby; you did so good for me, my favorite mess.” 

his voice is soft, and he kisses your cheek, your mouth still wrapped around his fingers.

[cherryscript]

18+

𝜗𝜚 NANAMI loves his pretty wife's mouth.

You kneel between Nanami’s thighs, his strong hands gripping your shoulders. The bedroom’s warm light spills over his unbuttoned shirt, baring his chiseled chest. His hazel eyes burn with desire, fixed on your lips. You tease the tip of his cock with a soft kiss, and he groans, low and guttural, the sound igniting your wet pussy.

“Fuck, you’re gorgeous,” he rasps, voice thick. His fingers tangle in your hair, guiding you. You take him deeper, lips stretching around his cock, tongue swirling. He curses softly, hips twitching as you start deepthroating him, slow and deliberate. Your hands grip his thighs, feeling them tense under your touch. God, you love how he unravels—only for you.

You hum, the vibration making him shudder. “Your mouth—shit,” he growls, head tipping back. You move faster, wet and slick, savoring every moan, every hitch in his breath. Your pussy aches, dripping with need, but this is about him. His cock pulses in your mouth, and you know he’s close. You push deeper, nose brushing his skin, and he grips your hair tighter, desperate.

“Look at me,” he pleads, voice raw. Your eyes meet his, and the adoration there makes your heart race. You suck harder, tongue flicking, and he groans your name, reverent. His release hits, hot and thick, spilling down your throat as you swallow every drop, lips glossy and swollen.

Nanami pulls you up, kissing you fiercely, tasting himself. “You’re—fuck—perfect,” he pants against your mouth, hands roaming your body. His fingers brush your wet pussy, teasing, and you moan into him. “I love you,” he whispers, voice heavy with devotion, as he pulls you closer, ready to return the favor.

[madamechrissy]

Nanami Kento doesn't know why he agreed to this other than one simple fact - He's dying to taste you.

To join Satoru and Suguru and share their girlfriend for the night? It seemed so out of character for him, but the moment you blushed and got so flustered, batting your lashes - the moment you mentioned it was your idea?

Well who is Nanami but a gentleman, and how could he deny your pretty body the pleasure you want from him?

When he kisses you for the first time with you pressed back on that bed, just your little bra and panties on, he has to wonder what it would be like to be alone with you. Your eyes lock on his, while Suguru's kissing up your waist and Satoru's teeth are sinking into your hip.

Nanami's tilting up your chin, watching your pupils blow out, his fingers drifting across your face. "Where do you want me to kiss you?"

You're trembling with need, feeling so shy underneath his hazel gaze, Satoru leans over and tilts your head to him, pressing a kiss on your lips, making you moan. "Mmm, Toru..."

"Tell him where you want him," he says softly, grinning at you now. "Not like I don't already know what my greedy girl wants."

Suguru tilts your head to him, while Nanami's kissing down your throat, his heavy weight pressing you against the mattress, you inhale his scent as Suguru's hair slips across your skin. "Princess, we'll all kiss you everywhere you want."

"Sugu... ah!" Nanami's gripping a breast, moaning as he feels the weight in his hand, lost in how pretty the mound is, your nipple pressing against his rough palm.

"Put me there," Nanami says softly, sucking your nipple in his hot mouth, two sets of hands on either side of you, so overwhelming, six huge hands, all those long, thick fingers. Hot mouths, pretty eyes, you're done for, cunt drenched when his thigh presses underneath the pants he still has on. "Don't be shy, darling."

You grip sandy blond locks, burying that handsome face against your cunt now, and his answer is to moan. His tongue teases your folds, achingly slow, eliciting filthy sounds from your throat.

Satoru chuckles, gripping a pretty mound and wrapping pink lips around it. "Ahh, sweetheart we know you too well," he teases, lips glossy.

"Huh? ah!" Nanami's lapping the pool of arousal pouring from your pretty hole, making you gasp out, back arching. "Ngh!"

"Fuck you're soaking me," he moans, savoring your juices, ignoring everything but how your cunt is drooling for him, how one of your hands is tugging his hair at the roots. "That taste..."

"She loves her pussy eaten," Suguru murmurs, thumb and forefinger plucking at your nipple, you cry out, letting his tongue ring flick across one, while he and Satoru hold your thighs open for their best friend. "Just sits on our faces random."

"I do not!" You giggle, Gojo rolls his pretty baby blues, watching how your eyes flutter shut, how your cheeks flush. "Mnh!"

"Shit, don't do better than me," he says with a little glare, Suguru just chuckles and kisses your lips, you arch into their touch, cunt spasming around Nanami's long pink tongue. It curls at your spot, your cunt squelching and mixing with his hoarse moan that vibrates against you.

"I eat pussy better than you," Suguru taunts, leaning over to kiss you again, Satoru scoffs, but soon your head falls back against the pillows, body arching. "Oh fuck... is he doing better than-"

"N-Nanami!" You whine out his name, tugging his hair while he just slurps up your cunt, and your two boyfriends who thought this would be harmless glare down at the blond man making you ignore them and grind on his face. "F-fuck... Nanamiiii!"

"Okay, that's enough," Suguru mumbles. "Let me-"

"Gonna cum, gonna - ngh!" You're ruined when his thick fingers precisely hit your spot, and he hums on your clit, closer and closer, looking down into drunken hazel eyes. "There, there - ah!"

Nanami buries his face and fingers against your greedy little hole, drinking you down as you scream out. It's filthy, pornographic, echoing off the walls of the pretty room in Satoru's penthouse. The boys are lost looking at how pretty you are despite how irritated they may be, the sweat on your brow, the way your face scrunches up, how your tits bounce when your hips jerk.

"Oh my f-fuck..." You're shaky when Nanami pulls up, your slick on his lips, kissing you firmly, spilling that arousal in a mess between you both.

"You're so pretty fucked out, just from my mouth," he murmurs softly, kissing your lower lip, spreading your flavor. You drag him down, hungry for it, cunt still spasming.

Satoru and Suguru are never inviting Nanami Kento over again.

someone keep me from my keyboard until the ovulation ends </3

[sukurena]

he’s gentle with everything else.

you’ve seen the way he speaks to strangers, always polite. the way he kneels to tie your shoe, grabs your favorite snack without you asking, rubs little circles into your back when you’re falling asleep. he listens when you talk—really listens, like every word out of your mouth deserves to be framed and hung on a wall. he laughs quietly, never raises his voice. his touch, out there in the world, is always featherlight.

but in here? he’s rough. brutal, even.

“look at me,” he snaps, voice low, fingers digging into the fat of your thighs as he pushes them back, forces them wider. “you’re gonna take all of it, yeah? you’re gonna be a good fucking girl for me.”

and you do—because he asked. because it’s him. your sweet boy with the soft hands and soft voice and the meanest cock you’ve ever taken in your life.

he’s big. thick enough to stretch you open slow, then cruel enough to bottom out in one sharp thrust that makes you cry out like you’ve been slapped. your back arches, breath knocked from your lungs, eyes wide and wet, but he just grins.

“that’s it, baby,” he pants, one hand clamped tight around your waist to hold you still while he grinds deeper, like he’s trying to live inside you. “so fuckin’ tight—god, you’re squeezing me like you don’t wanna let go.”

you don’t. but it’s too much. your body trembles under him, already overstimulated, raw at the edges, and he knows it. he uses it, tilts his hips just right, drives into that sore, swollen spot with vicious rhythm, punching broken moans out of your throat.

“cry all you want,” he growls, dragging your face toward his, lips brushing yours. “you’re still gonna take it. you begged for this, remember?”

your legs are shaking. one hand grips the sheets like they might anchor you to earth, the other claws helplessly at his back, searching for something solid while he fucks you like he hates you.

but his eyes—god, his eyes—they never stop looking at you. even when he’s splitting you open, when he’s got one hand wrapped around your throat and the other pushing your knees back until you can’t move at all, he’s looking at you with love. with reverence. like he’d still carry you to the bath after, even if you came on his cock until your voice gave out.

“you’re mine,” he whispers, voice suddenly softer even as his hips snap harder. “you’ll always be mine.”

and afterward, when your limbs won’t stop trembling and your body’s aching in the best kind of way, he pulls you close, presses kisses to your shoulder, brushes the hair from your face and smiles like he didn’t just fuck the living soul out of you.

“i’ll run you a bath,” he murmurs. “you did so good for me. such a good girl.”

[hotelcalebfornia]

one of toji’s wonders of the world is the sight of your ovulation breasts in a tank top.

it’s no surprise that toji likes to grope your body. the minute you gave him the green light to touch and squeeze whenever he can, he has never wasted a single opportunity.

he’s so touchy that he practically has your anatomy memorized. so when he noticed that your boobs look a little more plump than usual, he knows it’s a sign that it’s his favorite week of every month.

toji caught sight of you one afternoon with your hair up and a tank top, showcasing your neck, shoulders, and chest. the thin fabric of your tank top hugged the shape of your breasts as if inviting him to unwrap you. one of the straps fell from your shoulder and toji swore he finally understood why schools think shoulders are distracting. it’s not long before he has you under him as he stuffed your pussy full of him.

each thrust from him rocked your body on the sofa. his eyes are glued to the way your boobs bounced when he thrust into you. the sight alone could make him cum but combined with how your walls clench around him, toji felt like he’s in heaven.

as your moans became louder and your words became mere babbles, he knew you were close to climax.

“want daddy’s milk to fill you up?” he grins, hands groping your chest as his pace became ruthless.

you could only nod in response. your glossy eyes and fucked out expression was enough to show your desperation. with one, delicious clench, toji spilled his seed deep in your womb as you drowned in pleasure. you felt so full of him that it wouldn’t surprise you if your lower tummy was bloated from his milk.

“your greedy cunt loves my milk that much, huh?” he teased. he licks his scared lips as he diverted his gaze to your breasts. his rough, large hands enveloped over the two moulds as he squeezed and groped. “but…”

you looked down at your boyfriend, waiting for him to continue. your head spun when you envisioned him sucking milk from your breast. you blame it on ovulation week. unbeknownst to you, you’re not the only one with the imagination.

“i want something else filled with milk too.” his tone was wicked as he gave one final squeeze to your boobs.

it only made sense to you what he was talking about when the next position he put you in was a mean mating press.

[mommypieck]

⌗︙・jealous gojo cumming in your panties ⸜⸜・

gojo eyes you as you pounce around the room, calling with your middle school classmate. it's a good thing to finally get in contact with someone you haven't seen for a decade. although, judging by gojo's expression, he's not happy at all.

"bye, sugar." you say, hanging up the phone. a small giggle of excitement leave your mouth, making gojo raise an eyebrow at you.

"you call him sugar now?" gojo asks from the door, making you jump. of course he was listening behind door.

"it was his nickname in middle school. we have meeting in 10." gojo grits his teeth. he can't believe you. you were always the ideal girlfriend, obedient even, and now you're acting like a slut.

"come here, sweetheart." he tells you, his finger doing come here notion. you giggle at him. you step closer to him, swinging your arms around his neck.

"i have to get ready." you whine, placing a kiss to his cheek. he grips your chin to crash his lips against yours. he's hungry for your mouth, his tongue swiping over your lips to get permission to enter your mouth. you try to pull away, you're already running late, but he's holding you tight in his arms.

you yelp when he pushes your pants down along with your underwear. a part of you is a little annoyed because you seriously don't have time for this right now. he pulls his cock out of his pants, jerking it right above your panties.

he's panting in your mouth and you feel jealous that he's the only one receiving pleasure. as if he could read your mind, gojo pushes his cock into your panties. his cock brushes against your clit as he thrusts in your panties. the way you're grinding on his cock feels heavenly for both of you, but he doesn't plan on making you cum right now.

gojo is still pissed at you and he's gonna show the guy that you're his. he pushes his cock inside your panties harder, chasing his orgasm. he can feel the heat of your pussy on his cock and it's temping to just push inside, but he has to remind himself that this is a punishment.

he groans, feeling the orgasm coming. his body tenses as white ropes of his cum fill your panties. he always cums a lot but this time, it's more than usually. you have no time to react before gojo pulls the panties on. you cringe at the wet feeling bit he shushes you with a kiss.

"you're free to go now, love. have a good time."

[xhyjin]

husband gojo! who turns into “the neediest” after a long day of being “the strongest” the moment he walks through the door. his blindfold or glasses are tossed aside because, to him, you’re no sight for sore eyes; he wants nothing obstructing his view of you. he’s immediately all over you, clinging to you like a lifeline. and when you groan, “toru, i need my personal space,” he only grins and murmurs, “i need your personal space too, baby,” before wrapping his long legs around you, nearly making you stumble and fall with him still stubbornly attached, laughing like it’s the best part of his day. (it is)

husband gojo! who, ever since you baked him a birthday cake once, fell head over heels for your baking. now, it’s a tradition; he refuses to have a birthday cake unless it’s made and decorated by you. this extends to his sweet tooth cravings too; whenever he comes across random dessert recipes on his phone, he immediately sends them your way with an innocent “doesn’t this look good?” even if you’ve never seen or heard of the dessert before. he’ll hover around the kitchen, sneaking peeks and stealing tastes, grinning like a kid because there’s nothing sweeter to him than something made by your hands.

husband gojo! who absolutely loves when you spend his money. it takes you a while to get comfortable using it because you feel bad, but he always reassures you with a grin, “my money is your money, sweetheart. it’s all gonna be spent on you anyway.” he gets genuinely excited when you come home from a shopping trip or when packages arrive at the door, practically glowing with pride. seeing you spoiled and happy makes him feel like he’s doing something right. his favorite part, though, is when you give him a haul, showing off everything you bought and trying on all your new clothes just for him. he’ll sit back, arms crossed with the biggest smirk on his face, and say, “damn, I knew my money looked good on you.”

husband gojo! who is so, so, so protective of you that sometimes he just wants to keep you home, away from the outside world, where nothing can touch you. he’s spent his whole life as nothing but a weapon for jujutsu society, and all he wants now is to keep you safe, to shield you from everything. when you’re out together, his arm is always wrapped securely around your waist or draped over your shoulder, a silent reminder to everyone that you’re his to protect. dates are rarely in public—he prefers private, intimate places or the comfort of home, where he knows you’re safe in his arms. he’ll even insist on teaching you self-defense, but the lesson always ends the same: him pinning you down, a smirk on his face as he attacks you with kisses, murmuring, “looks like you’re still defenseless against me.”

husband gojo! who quite literally steals your entire personality. the moment you say a new phrase or pick up a habit, he’s quick to latch onto it, memorizing it like it’s second nature. by the next day, he’s already using it effortlessly, as if it’s always been part of his vocabulary. when you catch him doing it, he just shrugs with a small grin, “what can I say? you’re my favorite person—I can’t help it.” he admires you so much that your quirks and habits naturally become his own.

husband gojo! who sometimes tries to scare you in the mornings by hovering over you, his face so close that the first thing you see when you open your eyes are his deep blue eyes staring wide into yours. it always makes you jolt awake, your hands flailing as you instinctively poke or smack him in surprise. he’ll laugh, completely unfazed, pulling back just enough to grin down at you with a playful, “good morning, sleepyhead. miss me?” even when you scold him for nearly giving you a heart attack, he just chuckles, pressing a kiss to your forehead like it’s the most natural way to start his day.

husband gojo! who, just like he steals your personality, also steals your scent and fashion. if you have a favorite perfume, he’s either hunting down the “manly” version of it or shamelessly spritzing yours when you’re not looking. and when it comes to clothes, he’ll buy the exact same pieces you own—just a few sizes bigger so they suit him. it’s not even subtle; he’ll walk out wearing a sweater that’s just like yours, grinning proudly when you notice. “what? we match. it’s cute,” he says, completely unapologetic, because to him, there’s nothing better than being a reflection of the person he loves most.

husband gojo! who’ll dye a small streak of his snow-white hair your favorite color just to surprise you. he keeps it subtle and tucked away, hidden so well that no one else would even notice unless they were running their fingers through his hair—and no one gets that close but you. sometimes he changes it when your favorite color shifts, always paying attention to the little details that make you smile. when you do find it, gently brushing his hair aside, he grins at you softly and says, “figured I’d keep a piece of you with me.”

husband gojo! who genuinely tries his best to make time for you, despite how often he gets called away for missions. sometimes days pass without him seeing you, and the distance wears on him more than he'd ever admit. when he finally comes home, the moment he sees you, he's on his knees, pressing kisses to every inch of your body, mumbling softly between each one about how much he missed you. "missed you so much, baby... couldn't stop thinking about you," he whispers against your skin, his voice laced with exhaustion and love. it's in moments like these-when he's been deprived of your warmth and attention-that he starts to second-guess being a jujutsu sorcerer at all. because no mission, no battle, could ever compare to being with you.

husband gojo! who drops everything the second he steps through the door after a grueling three-day mission, exhaustion forgotten the moment he sees you standing there, holding out a small gift box. confusion turns to shock as he opens it, and inside, a positive pregnancy test. for a moment, the world stops; his heart races, his breath catches, and then it hits him: he has a family now.

husband gojo! who doesn’t even hesitate. right then and there, he decides he can’t be both a sorcerer and a father. he refuses to miss a single pregnancy milestone, a single moment with you or his child, because of his work. the next day, he quits. the elders, the Gojo clan, they can pester him, manipulate him, lecture him about “duty” and “protecting the country,” but he won’t budge. “It’s my duty to protect my family,” he’ll say firmly, his hand resting on your growing belly. no one will take him away from you and the life you’re building together.

[xxsabitoxx]

Gojo Satoru is still a constant thought on my brain I'm not gonna lie to y'all. I'm still thinking about my soft, in-love Satoru post and it's only natural that I feel the urge to write smut about it.

Satoru, who properly dates you for three whole months before starting to get intimate with you.

Satoru, who lets you take the lead and will constantly ask you if you're sure you want to do this.

Satoru, who is a bit nervous to be naked in front of you despite knowing he has a very desirable body.

Satoru, who's hands shake as he slowly pulls your shirt over your head, cheeks a warm shade of pink as he sees your skin.

Satoru, who is talking you through the entire thing but can't look you in the eye when you smile so lovingly at him.

Satoru, who tells you the entire time that if you want him to stop, he will, even if it kills him a bit.

Satoru, who's so used to fucking, and doesn't realize how soft and sweet it can be to make love. Especially when the attraction goes far beyond the surface level.

Satoru, who's whining when your lips press to his skin.

Satoru, who's heart is thumping erratically when you tell him how beautiful he is, how badly you want to make him feel good, how badly you want him to feel how much you love him.

Satoru, who's completely entranced by your naked body

Satoru, who can't get enough of feeling your warmth on him, how soft you are, how good you smell, and how good your skin feels against his.

Satoru, who's begging you softly as your lips trail from his neck to his chest and continue to travel lower.

Satoru, who never realized how fucking sexy you were, who's had such pure intentions until this moment that it nearly stuns him.

Satoru, who is pulling you tightly to his chest after cleaning the both of you up and getting water.

Satoru, who is so unfamiliar with the concept of not leaving after everything is done. Who can't believe he gets to stay in your bed with you in his arms all night. That he'll wake up to you the next day.