nerdjo’s glasses slip down his nose as he stares at you between his knees, mouth already running even while you’re bobbing on his cock.
“fuckkk, that’s so good—shit, wait, did you know that like… most guys only last like five minutes with head? which is, y’know, kind of embarrassing considering the male refractory period—”
his words stutter when you swallow around his sensitive tip, spit dripping down your chin. “ohhh god, okay, yeah, that’s—fuck—that’s definitely less than five minutes for me.”
your tongue presses under his tip and he whines, still running his mouth.
“ahhh—shit, baby, did you also know semen actually has, like, fructose in it? it’s literally nature’s energy drink—ohhh fuck, your tongue—wait, wait, don’t stop—” his whimpers comes out shaky, hand twitching like he wants to push your head down but can’t decide if it’s rude.
you take him deeper, throat tightening, and he slaps a shaky hand over his mouth, eyes rolling back behind his lenses. he tries to muffle a moan but it comes out anyway, high and desperate.
“o-okay, okay, uh—s-science says sucking dick releases oxytocin—hahh, f-fuck—bonding hormone, y’know? so technically, we’re like… getting closer right now.”
you hum around him in agreement and he gasps, words spilling faster. “shitshitshit, baby, you’re—fuck, your throat’s so warm, you’re making me cum—ahhh, oh god, wait, I’m serious, I’m—”
he breaks off with a choked moan, cock twitching as he shoots thick cum across your tongue, still babbling about “increased intimacy” while you swallow every drop.
I actually do think we should discourage women from becoming housewives. Do not become financially dependent on a man. That's how a lot of women ended up dead over the years. A man gets violent suddenly and you have to choose between homelessness or potentially dying at his hand because you have an enormous gap in your resume and no degrees or certifications or anything that will help you pursue a career that will allow you to be financially independent. He owns your bank account. His name is probably the one on the car. Try and leave and he can report it stolen. Where will you go then?
sexism in medicine kills people. racism in medicine kills people. fatphobia in medicine kills people. queerphobia in medicine kills people. classism in medicine kills people. ableism in medicine kills people.
do not downplay people’s fears about being mistreated because they are a part of a marginalised group. it is a matter of life and death and you should be angry about it.
The universe has a twisted sense of humor when your blind date happens to be your ex-husband, Hiromi Higuruma.
mdni. ragebaiting each other to filth / unprotected / multiple orgs!!
Hiromi Higuruma is a pretty damn good lawyer. Having topped first in the bar exam, everyone knew he had already been set for greatness in the world of law.
He sees every case as a riddle waiting to be solved. Every problem a puzzle, provided you’re patient enough to find the missing piece. He has brought justice to those who need it. Ironically, the only thing he can’t fix is his own marriage.
Hiromi has worked himself into the ground, head down, buried in case files and court wins, and somewhere along the way, he neglected you.
He’s been functioning on autopilot ever since you laid the divorce papers on his table on a random Tuesday morning. It got worse when the divorce was finalized not even a month ago. No appeals, no extensions. Just a clean, almost amicable severance.
A colleague once told him: “It’s a simple case of trial and error, Higuruma. All marriages are like that.”
Hiromi’s forehead creases whenever he remembers it. To him, it was never supposed to be trial and error, especially not with you.
Against his better judgment, Yaga somehow convinces him to agree to a blind date. Says it helped him cope with his own divorce. Hiromi knows better. The man simply doesn’t accept no without exhausting every argument first.
Now, he is seated at a small round table with an unreadable expression and with nothing but Yaga’s voice replaying in his head: 'Doesn’t hurt to try.'
But the universe has a twisted sense of humor.
Because seated across the table is you, staring back at him with the same frozen disbelief written across your face.
Both of you look away almost immediately. Hiromi adjusts his collar. You, on the other hand, casually lift your champagne flute and take a slow sip to steady your nerves.
For a fleeting moment, you consider excusing yourself to the bathroom and never coming back. But after the agonizing length of the divorce, the paperwork, the signatures, and the finality, you decide against running and just give him some grace.
Hiromi clears his throat and reaches for a single red card from the deck sitting in the middle of the table. His eyes skim the question before he exhales quietly.
“Care to tell me something about yourself?” His voice cuts through your thoughts. “Any hobbies? Interests?”
“As if you don’t already know,” you reply flatly while idly sliding a finger along the rim of your glass.
He exhales through his nostrils. He tells himself to be controlled and measured. “Just answer the question.”
You tap your fingers against the table with gaze wandering around the room. “I used to be a pianist before I became a wife.”
“You have a grand piano that only ever collected dust,” he says with something tight flickering behind his eyes. “It was your choice to quit playing.”
“After you said I didn’t have to play a million shows back to back,” you shoot back. You lean forward, elbows on the table. “How about you? Anything new you’re up to?”
“Not much has changed in my routine,” he answers plainly.
You let out a bitter chuckle. “Must be nice. At least your focus is solely on work now.”
Hiromi presses his lips together. After a beat, he draws another card from the deck. The moment he reads it, he stops himself from rolling his eyes.
“What are your deal breakers when dating?”
You sarcastically laugh at his question. “Are you kidding me?”
He looks at you blankly. “Well? The question isn’t answering itself.”
“I don’t like men who treat every disagreement like legal case." You deadpan at him. “I hate men who catalogue every mistake, see my emotions as something to cross examine, and– get this– refuse to admit their fault.”
Hiromi smirks. “I thought you liked highly opinionated men. What changed?”
You inhale sharply. “I don’t like it when they get unreasonable.”
His brow lifts with amusement. “Unreasonable in what sense?”
“In the sense that they don’t back down during small arguments,” you snap, “like we’re fighting in court instead of having a conversation.”
Hiromi leans back, arms crossing, smirk deepening. “Isn’t that how communication works?”
Heat creeps up your cheeks that you glance away. “Yeah, but—”
“But what?” he cuts, and his posture straightens instinctively. “You want compromise without concession. That’s not how problems are resolved.”
“Oh my god,” you scoff. “Listen to yourself. We’re on a blind date, not in a court room! Hold a fucking conversation, will you?”
“A conversation requires structure,” he counters. “You can’t keep spitting out bullshit and expect me not to question them.”
“And that’s exactly the problem!” Your voice rises. “Every time I tried to tell you how I felt, you treated it like I was exaggerating.”
“Because you never explained yourself clearly.”
"I do. You just want me to lay them out like evidence just to be heard,” you snap. “I wasn’t some client in a case, I was your wife.”
His jaw tightens. “And yet you walked away just like that.”
You laugh sardonically. “Oh. Like I never begged you to come home before midnight? On our anniversaries?”
Hiromi frowns at this. “You know how my job is.”
“I was losing you,” you say quietly. “And you didn’t care enough to notice.”
Silence looms over briefly. Then, he coldly says, “Resorting to divorce was unnecessary.”
"Wow. Just Wow. You–"
From the neighboring table, a silver-haired man wearing a name tag that reads 'Satoru' slams his hand down.
“Jesus Christ,” he yells, “just fuck it out!”
Your eyes widen in horror now that everyone's heads are now on your table. When you look back at Hiromi, something languid has entered his gaze. It is dark, slow, and very familiar.
“Should we head home?” he asks softly.
It’s absurd, really.
After the divorce is finalized and a stupid blind date, your ex-husband's face is buried between your legs, greedily lapping at your cunt while three fingers stretch you open.
The thing is, no matter how many times you finger fuck yourself or put the rose on blast, you’ll never finish the way Hiromi makes you do.
“Oh my god—” You clutch his hair. “—Hiro.”
You squirm, but he grips your hips and pulls you closer, groaning into you as he devours every sound you make.
Your body is a shaking, and you've now turned into a moaning mess beneath his touch. Hiromi's fingers pump perfectly while his tongue abuses your clit, circling until your vision whites out.
“Fuck— gonna cum again.”
His eyes burn with lust as you buck your hips. He pulls back just enough to speak. “Yeah. That’s right.”
There were no intelligent words that came to mind, all you could let out are whimpers and sobs of pleasure as another orgasm took over your body.
Hiromi lets out a dark chuckle as he licks the corners of his mouth hungrily while wiping the bottom of his chin with the back of his veiny hand.
You know him like the back of your hand. Sure as hell know that he's far from over. So it was no surprise when he suddenly carries your limp, overstimulated body on top of him.
“Hiro,” you murmur weakly. “I’m too tired to ride you.”
“You don’t have to do anything.” Holding your hip to lift you, Hiromi aligns his cock at your entrance. Then, he sinks you down onto his cock. “I’ll do the work.”
You gasp when his fat cock fills you to a hilt. “You’re– too big for me.”
“No, you just–” he grunts. “You’re tighter.”
He wraps his arms around your waist, and pounds in and out of you in deep, deliberate strokes, making you shriek against his neck. It doesn't help that he keeps whispering low, gutteral grunts against your ear.
“Hiro– fuck!”
You whimper, but your words fall on deaf ears as his swollen cock pistons even deeper with deliberate, hard strokes. Your eyes roll back in pleasure, and your walls clench hard at how much his cock brushed on your sweet spot over and over.
“Cum again for me.”
“I dont–” you chok the words out as best you can, “–don’t think I can.”
Hiromi grips your ass with both hands, pushing it down further at his length so he can fuck you even deeper than he already did. “You can. We've done this before.”
With tears of pleasure pooling at the corner of your eyes, you mutter, “Hiro, I can’t.”
“I said,” But he slaps your ass, leaving a red mark across the skin. “Do.” he slammed his hips harder at each word for emphasis, “It.”
And you do.
You hiss against his neck as he quickens the pace, hips snapping harder, deeper. The overwhelming pleasure coursing through your body makes your toes curl, and with your eyes squeezed shut, you let the orgasm crash over you, leaving you shaking in his arms.
He keeps fucking you through it. Deep, rough, and unrelenting, until you’re both chasing the edge together, riding each other out in the same breathless moment.
“Happy anniversary,” he murmurs, kissing your shoulder endearingly, but all you could respond is a tired hum.
"Hiromi."
"Hm?"
“Nice fuck,” you whisper. "I'm starting to think," you pant in between your sentence, "the divorce was a mistake."
Hiromi scoffs out a wry chuckle.
"Never should've happened in the first place, by the way." He looks down at you lovingly, and plants a soft kiss on your temple, "We can can re-marry any time next week if you'd like."
You smile to yourself and mumble, "I would love that."
past midnight, every night, without fail— moaning behind your bedroom door, porn echoing off the walls, barely muffled by whatever cheap ass speakers your laptop had. his name wasn’t on your mind. never was, never would be. you were too busy with your legs spread, vibrator buzzing between your thighs, lips parted in glossy desperation as your hips arched off the mattress, chasing your next high like it was oxygen.
you were a gooner. through and through. always needy, cockdrunk without any cock, and fucking shameless.
it’s been like this for months now, and toji swore it had to be some kind of karmic punishment. not because you were messy or rude or hard to live with. but because you were just loud. too loud. and lately, your little nightly sessions were getting out of hand.
he would wake up at two in the morning to the sound of you moaning. not your porn, not the squeaky, high-pitched girl you’d been replaying for the last thirty minutes, but you. mewling, breathy, muttering curse words in a fucked out whisper as if you were seconds away from crying.
at first, he figured it was temporary. you were just settling in, maybe a little too quickly, but regardless, it was probably just a phase. hell, he even thought he might catch a break during november. you know, the whole ‘no nut’ thing going around. but nope, you lasted three whole days. three. and on day four, it was like something inside you snapped— because you came back swinging harder than ever.
tuesday night. 12:46 a.m. toji was laying in bed, phone charging, pillow over his head, already exhausted from a long day of work.
and just when he thought he might get some peace, he hears it:
“fuckfuck, right there, oh my goddd—”
he groaned into the mattress. it wasn’t the porn. it was you. again.
and lately, it had started bleeding into everything. gotten so bad to the point where he swore he could hear you even when you weren’t home. he’d walk past your empty room during the day, fully locked up, and still think he could hear those breathy little whines echoing faintly from inside. your voice was imprinted on his fucking brain. sometimes when he closed his eyes, he swore he could hear the faint buzz of your vibrator like phantom noise.
you were haunting him.
then, the next morning?
like nothing ever happened.
you’d walk into the kitchen wearing your stupid little slippers and oversized tee like a good girl, yawning as if you weren’t the reason he was up all night, cock hard and jaw clenched. you didn’t even look at him with shame or guilt, not even an ounce of embarrassment.
like you didn’t just finger yourself to a compilation of tentacle hentai for two and a half hours straight.
toji had finally had enough.
+
you didn’t hear him come in.
not at first. you were too far gone— back arched, slick fingers stuffed inside you as another video played, screen propped up on your pillows. your thighs were shaking. your eyes were glossy. you hadn’t even cum yet, but you’d been edging yourself for almost an hour, pussy so wet the sheets were damp beneath your ass.
then the door creaked open.
you sat up halfway, blinking, chest heaving, “toji—?”
he didn’t say anything.
just stepped inside, shirtless and pissed off, dark hair messy like he’d just rolled out of bed, eyes low with something you couldn’t quite place.
“what the hell—”
“you don’t know how to be quiet, do you?”
you flinched.
he shut the door behind him, locked it.
“every night. moaning. whining. crying into your fucking pillow—” his voice dropped as he stepped closer, towering over you now, gaze sliding down to where your fingers were still between your thighs, glistening with your arousal.
you yanked your hand back. “i-i didn’t think you—”
“didn’t think i could hear you?” he scoffed. “sweetheart, the whole building can hear you.”
your breath hitched.
you should’ve been embarrassed. maybe even scrambled to cover up. but you didn’t. you couldn’t. your heart was pounding, your pussy was throbbing, and your body was still soaked from the half dozen orgasms you hadn’t let yourself have yet.
“you know what your problem is?” he asked, eyes narrowing as he crouched in front of the bed, one knee pressed to the mattress. “you don’t know how to ask for help.”
you stared, wide-eyed, caught somewhere between panic and desire. he reached forward, grabbed your vibrator— warm, wet, softly humming, and tossed it to the floor.
“gonna shut you up for real.”
before you even got the chance to speak, he’s already dropping down between your legs, his huge palms spreading them apart, pulling your hips closer to the edge of the bed. his mouth was on your pussy right away. no teasing, no warm-up. he licks straight through your folds, wide and heavy, collecting all the slick you had worked up for the past hour.
“you don’t know when to stop,” he muttered, breath hot against your core. “so i’ll do it for you.”
his hands clamp down on your thighs, nails pressing crescents into your skin. his tongue works you open, licking everything, sucking on your clit before dipping down again. your whole lower half was a disaster. sticky and overheated, juices leaking down your crack while his spit slides over it, pooling between your thighs. he groaned into you, the sound rough and low, and the second he heard you whimper, he slid two fingers inside you without saying a word.
you gasped— tight around him already, walls fluttering from the stretch. he curls them instantly, fucking them in slow, deep strokes as his mouth seals around your clit and sucks hard.
“f-fuck, toji—” your voice broke a little when you said his name.
he doesn’t let up.
his fingers pumped into you steady, knuckles deep, thumb rubbing circles into your clit when his mouth pulls away just for a moment. he’s watching you now, watching the way you react— how you clench everytime he curls his fingers just right.
“you make this much of a mess by yourself, baby? fuckin’ dripping—” he muttered, voice thick, a string of spit still clinging from his lips to your cunt.
then he lets another glob fall, watching it land right on your clit before pushing it in with his fingers, leaning down again to lick around them, fucking you open with his hand.
you screamed.
your legs kicked, heels digging into the bed, hands flying to his hair— pulling, gripping, trying to stop him because it was too much.
he just moaned.
“t-too much, wait, wait, i—!”
you cum hard. your legs shaking, pussy squeezing around his fingers as your orgasm hits full force. you cry out as your vision went white and your brain flatlined. but he didn’t stop. he fucks you through it, tongue lapping up your cum, dragging it back into you with this obscene, slurping groan, like he couldn’t get enough.
when he finally pulls away, his fingers slid out soaked and glistening, he brings them to his mouth and licks them clean, savoring every drop.
“get on all fours.”
you blinked, barely able to breathe.
“now.”
you scrambled up before you could think, limbs unsteady, body still twitching from the comedown. your chest rose sharp and shallow as you flipped over onto your hands and knees. hands trembling where they pressed into the sheets, ass high up in the air like you were presenting it for him— because you were.
you heard him behind you. the soft rustle of fabric, the harsh clink of his belt being unbuckled. his pants hit the floor with a heavy thud, and then, a wet slap.
his fist, pumping along his cock. slow, heavy strokes. breathing deeper now.
you didn’t even have to look back to know he was staring. you could feel it. the heat of his gaze crawling down your spine, burning low in your stomach. your walls clenched on nothing in anticipation, hole fluttering around the emptiness, desperate to be filled.
and then you felt it.
his tip— thick, hot, flushed— pressing between your folds, dragging slow through the mess he’d made earlier. he rubbed it up and down, coating himself in your slick, teasing your entrance while your hips jolted everytime he passed over your clit.
“this what you wanted, baby?” he murmured, breath warm against your back. “been fucking yourself for weeks just to stay empty, begging for something real.”
you nodded frantically, biting your lip so hard it almost bled.
and then he slammed into you.
you screamed into the pillow, whole body jerking forward from the force of it. he didn’t give you a second to adjust— just bottomed out, buried to the hilt, his pelvis flush against your ass.
“so loud,” he growled, fucking into you with bruising force, the sound of skin slapping against skin already bouncing off the walls. “so fuckin’ noisy all the time. whining, moaning, always actin’ like a dumb little slut in heat—”
you were gushing. literally.
your pussy took him deep with every thrust, swallowing him whole, over and over, no resistance. the flood between your thighs was nonstop. wet, loud, splattering out around the base of his cock with every movement. your thighs were already soaked. his were worse.
“you like this shit, don’t you?” he groaned, grabbing your hips harder. “like being used, fucked stupid, so wet for me i can barely stay inside, fuck, baby, you’re making a mess.”
you sobbed into the sheets, mouth open, jaw slack, eyes rolling. you didn’t care.
you were writhing, whining, gooning on his cock like you’d never touched yourself a day in your life, already close to cumming again because he was hitting so deep, grinding against that spot that made your legs go numb.
“p-please- need it, need more—”
“more?” he scoffed, laughing under his breath. “can’t even hold yourself up and you’re still beggin’? greedy lil thing.”
his palm lands a harsh strike to your ass, then grabs a fistful of your hair and yanks your head back until your spine arched. he fucked into you harder, every thrust faster than the last, hips snapping against yours with a punishing pace.
“then take it.”
you came again.
a sharp, overwhelming release forced out of you, squirting all over his cock with a squelch so loud it made him groan, eyes locked on the mess coating his length. the spray hit his thighs, ran down his balls, made everything slippery. his hips stuttered for just a second, slick pouring out of you in waves as your pussy clenched around him, still trying to milk him for more.
“jesus- fuck- keep doing that and i’m gonna ruin you.”
you couldn’t even speak. couldn’t form words. your mouth was open but empty, tongue hanging out, drool leaking onto the sheets below you. all you could do was take it— whimpering while he used you like a toy, grunting with every heavy thrust, cock battering your walls over and over.
he leaned over you then, chest colliding your back, one hand still in your hair, the other gripping your hip so tight it hurt. his mouth ghosted over your ear.
“should’ve done this weeks ago,” he whispered. “then maybe you wouldn’t be such a brat.”
+
you passed out after round three.
he fucked you until your legs fully gave out. until your eyes rolled back. until your muscles seized, overstimmed, crying into the sheets and begging him to slow down.
he never once did.
he stayed buried inside you for a full minute after, cock twitching, both of you panting, drenched in sweat and cum and everything else.
you fell asleep on his chest.
and for once— for once— your room was quiet that night.
…though not for long.
because in the morning, he woke up to you already rutting against his thigh.
“toji,” you whispered sweetly, shameless as ever. “wanna go again?”
Art References in Jujutsu Kaisen s3 opening: The Kiss - Gustav Klimt // The Scream - Edvard Munch // Ophelia - John Everett Millais // Dead mother l - Egon Schiele // Two Sleeping Children - Peter Paul Rubens // Camille Monet and a Child in the Artist's Garden in Argenteuil - Claude Monet // The Three Judges - Honoré Victorin Daumier
Youtube is full of ads, spotify is full of ads, tumblr is full of ads, pinterest is full of ads. Everything uses ai. Every new update makes the website/app worse. Youtube auto translates almost every video I want to watch. Sometimes pinterest only loads ads for me. Check out this new ai feature. Here's a new update that breaks ur laptop. Here's a new update that breaks ur phone. Why are u complaining about ur phone, just get the newest iphone lol. Join my patreon. Join my membership. Pay a monthly membership to get all features. Upgrade your membership to get even more features. Subscribe to netflix. Subscribe to disney. Subscribe to amazon. Subscribe to hulu. This content isn't available in ur country. This content was removed. This website was removed. This feature only exists for apple. This app only exists for apple. U need to a WiFi connection to play this game. U need an account. We need your email to finish creating this account. We need your number to finish creating your account. We need your id to finish creating your account. In order to delete your account please write an email. In order to delete your account you need a laptop. Oops our database was hacked and ur information was stolen. Ur data was sold from this random website u used once 10 years ago. Spam call. Spam call. Spam call.
୨୧ ― The garage door slams shut with a muffled thud, sealing you both in the dark garage. The car is still warm from the drive home, engine ticking as the leather seats creak under Nanami’s weight. His tie hangs loose around his neck, silk fabric slithering between his fingers as he cages you against the backseat- his knee forcing your legs apart.
"Seven days…," he grits out, the numbers sharp as his cursed blade… It was rare to hear him talk like that…
"Kento… please don't be mad… w-we ah~," impatient, his large hands shove your dress up your thighs, bunching the fabric around your waist, "We've been so busy with the girls lately." your hands tremble as you run them over the lapels of his jacket.
He catches your wrist and pulls your hand to his mouth. A shiver races up your spine as he kisses your palm, tongue hot and wet as it traces along your skin. His teeth are just as sharp, grazing against your skin in a warning, "I don't want excuses," Nanami growls, the low sound going straight to your cunt, "I want you."
His breath carries hints of bourbon and mint from dinner- restraint absolutely snapped, the kind that’s been simmering all week between packed lunched, overtime with Gojo, and your second grader’s nightmares about how daddy doesn’t come back home from work one day…
Nanami refuses to waste any more time. Like he said, it’s been seven fucking days. He’s missed having you all to himself. The feeling of your velvety walls wrapped around him- strangling his cock just how he likes it.
Without hesitation. His thumb hooks into your lace panties, tearing them sideways with a rip that makes you gasp and arch, "F-fuck, Kento-!~"
"Quiet," he growls against your neck, calloused palm smacking your clit once, twice, the crack echoing off the tinted windows, "You've been begging for this all night." The sound of his pants zipper fills the small space, his cock springing free- heavy and angry red with a bead of precum drooling at the tip. "Squirming in your seat. Smirking at me as your heel grazes my thigh."
He doesn't prep you- doesn't need to. Your pussy has been dripping since the appetizers, and he knows, the bastard, smirking as he swipes his tip against your entrance, "Look at you," he taunts, dragging his cock through your slick, coating himself, "So wet for me already. You missed my cock so much, hm?"
Fuck, yesyesyes you missed his cock, missed the stretch and burn and ache when he first plunges into you. A breathless, "Yes~♡ " falls from your lips, followed by a desperate moan as his fat cock rams into your soaked cunt without warning- filling you, stretching you out.
You do your best to choke back a scream. You know better, know to keep your voice down in case your girls and Yuji have fallen asleep- the last thing you need is to wake them. But Nanami is merciless, fucking you open, the squelch of your juices loud enough to drown out any other noise in the confined space, his hips snap up- slamming into you as he fucks you against the leather seats.
"I—fu—I've s'missed you, Kento~"
Nanami's eyes soften then, a small smile forming as his hand cradles your face. The pad of his thumb traces the outline of your lip before pushing in, his gaze darkening at the way your lips part for him so willingly.
His grip on your jaw turns bruising, the way his lips smash against yours- it's painful, but the sting is delicious, "You kept teasing me about wanting another kid," he grunts, sweat dripping off his jaw onto your heaving chest.
His wedding band catches the moonlight streaming through the garage window as he grips your throat, not hard enough to hurt- yet.
"Maybe I will put a third in you tonight. Watch you swell up again…" His voice drops, gravelly and low, "You'd look so beautiful like that, again."
You claw at the part of his chest that's exposed, the fabric wrinkled beyond salvation, and moan, "Y'already... nnf... can't handle two—hah!~"
He slams deeper- hand fisting in your hair cutting you off- "Try me."
His Mercedes rattles as he flips you onto your knees, face mashed against the fogged window. His palm cracks against your ass, reddening the skin before he yanks your hips back, spearing you in one vicious stroke. Your tits crush against the seat, nipples rubbed raw by the upholstery as he drills into your g-spot.
Somewhere upstairs, he hears a floorboard squeak… The sound traveling easily through the thin wall that connects the garage to the house. Nanami freezes, cock twitching inside you.
Then, unmistakable in the sudden silence, comes the patter of small feet and excited voices from within the house.
"Daddy and Mommy are home!"
"Shh! Remember what big bro Yuji said? We should be sleeping!"
Nanami’s eyes narrow, "S-shit." He rams home once more, burying his groan in the crook of your neck as he spills, hot and thick, painting your walls white as it floods your womb. His cum leaks down your trembling thighs as he collapses against you, his forehead dropping to your shoulder blade with a defeated thud while muttering, "...they're awake-"
So much for having you to himself the rest of the night…
━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━
Nine months later, Nanami Kento is changing diapers at 3 am, dark circles under his eyes but with a tender smile that lights up the pink nursery.
WHY SHOULD I BE SAD? (WHEN I COULD JUST FUCK HIS DAD!) ★
ꨄ syn. after your ex-boyfriend cheats on you, you show up at his house only to find out his bum ass isn't there. buuut his dad is, and you see the perfect opportunity to get back— its time for you to move along, goodbye!
ꨄ feat. dilf! kento nanami + fem! reader, pwp, piv, unprotected sēx, improper use of a tie, oral f! receiving), age gap, pússy whipped nanami, choking, hairpulling, voyeurism. mdni.
wc. 3.5k
you knock. three sharp, deliberate raps against the door, knuckles grazing the oak.
the porch light flickers overhead, buzzing lowly as it throws shadows across your bare legs. the hem of your pink velour shorts rides high on your thighs, paired with the matching jacket, zipped halfway down to show a sliver of the white tank top underneath.
you shift your weight to one hip, arms folded tight across your chest, blowing a lazy puff of stray hair that stuck to your glossed lips.
pathetic. you think, glancing around the quiet streets. your (ex!!) boyfriend— still living with his parents like the immature man child he is.
some things just never fucking change.
you shift, scuffing the toe of your sneaker against the welcome mat. welcome, it says in clean, cursive letters. bold of it to assume.
you’re ready to just turn your ass around, already thinking how you were too pretty to be standing on the porch like this for a man who can’t even keep his dick to himself— before the door opens with a soft, weighted click.
and instead of the boy you were verbally (and probably physically) going to skin alive, you got his father.
nanami kento.
he stands framed in the doorway, still in half his work attire. the sleeves of his white dress shirt are pulled up to his elbows, the worn fabric stretching a little too tight over the muscle of his forearms. a navy tie hangs loosely around his neck, brushing ever so slightly against the center of his barely exposed chest.
his honey blonde hair is combed back, a stray hair brushing over the rim of his glasses. he blinks at you once, slow, and you can’t help but blink right back.
he’s hot— hot in that “pays his bills on time” kind of way. in that “he’s obviously bee-keeping age” kind of way. you can clearly see where all the good genes went— definitely didn’t stick with his son.
figures.
“can i help you?” he asked, voice worn around the edges, dragging low across the quiet between you— like he’s been talking all day but you’re the first thing he’s actually looked at.
“i was, uh, looking for your son,” you shrug, voice bittersweet. “but i guess he’s out. . spreading whatever new std he picked up this week.”
nanami’s mouth twitches, not enough to be a smile—not enough to be anything actually, but you still catch it.
“he’s not home, i’m sorry.” he finally says, exhaling through his nose, the sigh barely stirring the thick air between you.
“yeah, me too.” you scoff softly, letting a dry little laugh slip free past your lips before you can stop it.
nanami sighs, glancing out at the empty, paved street, then back at you— standing there in your tiny pink jacket, breath fogging in soft little puffs in the cold, evening air.
and he knows he should shut the door.
tell you to go home, and stop bothering him with his son’s antics.
but instead, nanami looks at you one more time, and the words are already out before he can take them back.
“come inside,” he murmurs, and you blink up at him, surprised. your lashes catch in the dimmed lighting, lips parted because, not gonna lie, you really expected him to scold you for showing up on his doorstep at this hour, not invite you in.
he creaks the door wider with one hand, not moving otherwise.
an invitation, plain and simple— yours if you want it.
and you do.
because why the fuck not.
you step past the blonde man, slow enough to feel the heat of his chest. his cologne hits you next, clean with a weight of something smooth, oaky, the kind that just smells expensive.
the door clicks shut behind you, a low, weighted sound as the house hums low around you — dim lamplight blooming gold against taupe walls, books stacked in corners, the edge of a dark whiskey bottle catching the faint gleam from the kitchen counter.
“can i get you something to drink? wine?” nanami’s voice cuts into the quiet, and you flick your eyes toward him.
his hand curls casual around the fridge door, rolex crowned wrist flexing as he reaches for a bottle without even needing to look.
“what, no vodka shots?”
“i have better taste than that.”
he pours slow — the maroon liquid threading ribbons into thin crystal glasses that catches lamplight like it’s flirting. the air shifts when he crosses back to you, glass dangling easy between his fingers, the stem catching a smear of light as he offers it out.
you take a small sip, the wine breathing sweet against your tongue. it's much heavier than what you're used to, warm enough that it drips slow down the back of your throat and settles thick in your stomach.
you hum low without meaning to, the sound slipping out sticky and soft. nanami sinks next you on chocolatey leather sectional, the seat creaking quietly under the shift of his weight.
“i'm sorry, again.” he says softly, his thumb drags absent over the rim once before he speaks once more. “that boy. . . he hasn't been the same since his mother’s been gone.”
“oh.” you lower your glass, words feeling awkward and clumsy on your tongue. “i’m sorry for your, um, loss.”
and nanami chuckles— the kind you’d expect to hear floating down the halls of some members-only country club.
“she’s not dead— she left. divorced me after she decided marriage vows were more of a suggestion.” he leans back, raising the crystal up to his lips.
you laugh before you can stop yourself — the wine buzzing a little low in your veins now, loosening your mouth, making you just stupid enough to flirt with the edge of it.
“ohh,” you purr sweetly, a little slur of silk in your voice. “so you haven’t gotten laid in a while, huh?”
nanami chokes.
no, like actually chokes.
“w-what?” he croaks, brows pulling inward sharply as his glasses shift down the bridge of his nose.
“gootteeenn laaiidd,” you repeat, dragging the words slower this time.
“like, you know, having intercourse.” you wave one hand vaguely in the air, wrist limp. “fucking, if you will.”
nanami exhales sharply through his nose - you’re really starting to give him a run for his money right now. “i know what getting laid means,” he mutters, tone clipped. “m’not that old.”
a brief silence drapes itself between you— not cold, yet slightly singed around its edges, tensed. after what seemed to be the longest three seconds of his life, nanami finally speaks.
“no. i, uh. haven’t been active— sexually.”
you burst out laughing, wine nearly sloshing over the rim of your glass. “oh my god,” you wheeze, setting down your drink before it spills over. “this isn’t a doctor’s office. we’re both adults here.”
“are we really?” nanami mumbles, umber eyes skimming over your doubled-over state.
“uh, i’m twenty, mind you.”
“that’s comforting.”
you shrug, one leg curling up beneath you as you swirl whats left in your glass, the liquid painting lazy rings up the sides. your head is lighter now, the warmth of it blooming low in your stomach, buzzing under your skin.
“you don’t have to be embarrassed.” you murmur, head tilting slightly as your gaze drags across his frame. “it’s juust. . . been a while, right? doesn’t have to stay that way.”
you don’t look at him after that. not right away. just take another sip— letting the remainder of the wine coat your tongue and melt there while your words hang.
nanami doesn’t speak at first. doesn’t blink. hell, doesn’t even breathe.
but you feel it. the way the air shifts. the way his eyes remain hot on you. like he’s trying not to picture anything he shouldn’t— and failing miserably.
you’re half his age— he could be your father, for crying out loud!
“you’re drunk.”
“a little,” you admit breathily, voice slurred around the corners like the alcohol is speaking for you. “not enough to lie though.”
his jaw flexes.
visibly.
nanami’s voice drops lower, steadier.
“you’re my son’s girlfriend.”
“ex-girlfriend,” you correct him. “very important prefix.”
“semantics,” he mutters.
“legalities,” you shoot back. “pretty sure that contract expired the second he chose to be community dick.”
and nanami just huffs, closing his eyes, as if you’ll vanish if once he reopens them.
you don’t.
his jaw ticks again— slow.
“you— you shouldn’t be talking like this,” his voice rasps, eyes darkening— not dramatically, like in the movies, but in that slow, irrevocable way. “flirting. with me.”
you blink up at him, doey eyes feigning innocence with such a foxed grace. “awe, why shouldn’t i, mister nanami?”
and uh,
being slumped over his couch not even five minutes later with your legs hanging daintily over his broad ass shoulders definitely wasn’t on your list of possible outcomes.
“k-kennnn,” you whimper, hips rolling up into his face without thinking. your body moving on instinct now. “oh my god—”
his name rolls of your tongue like pure honey. your hips buck into his face, reflexive and greedy, spine arching off the couch like your entire body was trying to climb into his mouth.
“you taste,” he breathes, voice ruined, mouth glistening with the evidence, “so divine.” his lips kiss the words right into your sobbing cunt, a sticky whisper smudged against your folds.
he’s drenched in your dulcetly sweet juices — mouth and chin glazed in spit and slick. there’s drool trailing from the corner of his mouth, pooling where his lips suck around your clit. it’s loud — shamelessly wet — the kind of messiness that echoes off the walls, mingling with your gasped mewls and broken pleas for more.
you're throbbing so much it aches. your legs can’t even stay open on their own— and they don’t have to, not with the way nanami’s palms are splayed into your inner thighs, keeping them spread wiiiidee like it’s his job.
like this is what he clocked out for.
you fist a hand in his hair, yanking him closer and he moans. actually moans into your cunt.
low and guttural, breath catching sharp in his throat as he sinks deeper into you. his tongue licks a wide, deliberate stripe up your cunt, lathering his entire mouth in the wet sheen of your sweetness.
and god, he’s drunk on it.
like he’s starved, but determined to savor every lick, every suck, every trembling twitch of your hips beneath his tongue. nanami wraps one arm around your thigh, pulling you closer to the edge of the couch, and stays there — nose pressed deep in your crevices, tongue flicking in tight circles, sloppy little suctions in between.
the last time he's eaten pussy like this, was what? back in college? almost two decades ago. yet it's like fucking muscle memory for him, like he's got PTSD.
“that’s it,” he rasps, voice muffled and wrecked, “don’t run. let me taste you, baby.”
your jaw drops. nothing comes out.
because how exactly are you supposed to say even a word with his tongue dragging figure eights over your clit? with his lips sucking bruises into your inner thighs between every flick? with his hands branding their grip into you every time you squirm?
his lips latch around your clit, sucking slow, heavy pulses while the flat of his tongue rolls wide circles around the swollen bud. his head shakes side to side, desperate now, messy, loud slurps filling the room.
you gasp sharply, hips jerking, thighs trembling around his head. “kento—i’m getting clooseee.”
the heel of your foot presses down against the middle of his back, urging him closer, guiding his mouth deeper into you. he groans again, a low, hoarse sound that makes your stomach tighten.
“hah—not yet, sweetheart,” he mutters into your pussy, words muffled by the wetness slicking his lips. “wanna enjoy you a little longer.”
he coaxes softly, voice low. “h-hold out for me. can you do that, pretty girl?” and you nod frantically, even as your body is begging for release.
“atta girl.”
nanami smiles against your cunt and you can feel it—the gentle curve of his lips pressing against your slick, tickling where he’s sucking and licking you raw. his hands stroke soothing down the backs of your thighs, holding you still, thumbs drawing slow circles into your skin.
his tongue flattens again, and you could've sworn you felt him drawing a slow, dragged K against your clit.
he’s just lost in it. in you.
completely, hopelessly enthralled.
you whimper, breath catching in your throat, fat, wet, tears finally pooling at your waterline before streaking down the flushed heat of your cheeks.
“k-kentoo,” you mewl softly, voice sticky with need, breath coming out in short little pants.
“go on,” he cooed softly. “cum for me, sweetheart. wanna feel it on my tongue.”
coiled tight, ready to snap. but his hands stayed firm on your thighs, his tongue pressing a slow, deliberate stroke over your wetness.
your release hits you violently, crashing over you like a rogue wave and you nearly sob. your toes curl into the soles of your shoes, thighs clamping around his head as your hips bucked against his mouth.
your body spasms in a wild, uncontrollable rhythm, slick soaking nanami's chin, his lips, his tongue—and he just took it. drinking you down with soft, broken groans, never once letting up as he licked you through every little tremble.
“that’s it,” his breath is warm as it's breathed against your core. “good girl.”
your body was still trembling, slack with aftershock when nanami finally lifted himself from between your soaked thighs. he wiped his mouth once but it did nothing— his chin was still slick, lips swollen and glistening, the faintest tint of pink glossed from where he’d devoured you.
his hands swept possessively down your sides. palms wide, calloused fingertips dragging over the curve of your waist as he guided you forward.
you gasp softly as he flips you onto your belly, nudging your hips up. your limbs felt weightless, pliant with a deep fatigue.
your knees slide against the leather, the couch creaking beneath you as he arranged you just right—in your hands and knees, back arched, ass lifted.
the cushions dipped behind you, a subtle shifting of weight as nanami knelt up. you hear the slow, metallic “zrrpp” of his zipper lowering, noticing his belt didn’t jingle.
he’d probably already undone it while his mouth was still between your thighs.
a soft breath hisses through nanami's nose as he fists himself behind you—stroking, just once, the wet sound slick before he presses forward.
“breathe in for me,” nanami enticed, voice steady, one palm braced warm at the small of your back.
his other hand guided himself to your entrance, the tip nudging sweetly between your sobbing folds. “just a little more, sweetheart.”
he eased forward, thick inches dragging into you, stretching you inch by staggering inch.
and it ached, yet in the sweetest way—your hot, slicked walls hugging him so tight, making him curse low under his breath.
“there you go,” he murmured. “such a big girl.”
he wasn’t too long, but god, did his girth make up for it.
a thick, weighted base broad enough to stretch you wide already, the head flaring just slightly as it breached you.
by the time he bottomed out, you were trembling beneath him, hips flush, his pelvis pressing soft against the curve of your ass. stretched full. he paused, both hands gliding down to grip the lush swell of your hips.
his hips drew back, the broad head of his cock dragging slow and heavy along your sensitive walls, before rolling forward again with a deep, deliberate stroke.
“s-sooo, hngh— big,” your voice broke into a sob as your fingers curled into the cushions beneath you. your ass bounced back against his waist, cunt snug around his cock as your moans pitched higher.
the silk of his tie—still looped loose around his own throat, slid free with a soft whisper of fabric. nanami tugged it off carefully, slipping it around your throat instead. the silk hugged the delicate line of your neck as he tied it loosely, gathering the longer end in one hand.
“just so i can hold you steady, heh,” he whispered, almost like he was reassuring himself more than you.
“look at you,” nanami panted softly. “so pretty on my dick— just, hah, imagine what my son would think.”
his breathing was ragged now, heavier with each roll of his hips into yours. the tie pulled snug against your throat every time you rocked back. the next thrust was deeper this time, angling up just right as it punched a sob out of your throat.
“he didn’t know what he had,” he gritted out between strokes, the words dragging rough from somewhere deep in his chest. “i-idiot—threw away something this perfect.”
and if you didn’t know any better, it almost sounded like nanami was angry— jealous even. like the thought of you being mistreated was something he just couldn’t fathom.
his free hand dropped to your waist, steadying you as his rhythm began syncopating. the fog on his glasses was nearly opaque now, slipping low on the bridge of his nose.
and then—
your phone buzzes, followed by your tinny little singsong ringtone, the screen lighting up bright in the dim lighting of the room.
[incoming facetime: 🗑️]
you dazedly blink, barely able to register it through the heat and the fog filling your head.
“p-pick it up,” nanami murmured behind you, voice low, steady, almost too composed. you barely had the coordination, fingers fumbling for the phone. your thumb dragged across the screen, and his face filled the camera.
red. wild-eyed. breathing heavy.
“where the fuck are you? you think this is funny? i’ve been texting and calling all night—”
your face was all he could see at first. hair sticking to your damp temples. your breath shaky. eyelids heavy, barely open.
“answer me,” he barked. “are you with someone? don’t fucking lie—”
you smiled. slow. coy. “oh, i’m with. . . someone.”
“who?” he demanded, voice cracking. “tell me who it is right now, or i swear i'll be both of your asses!”
you tilt the phone. just enough.
the camera catches nanami in his perfect, damning glory— broad chest flushed with exertion, work shirt still open, tie wrapped snug around your throat. his hands heavy on your hips, muscles flexing beneath skin as he fucked into you.
your ex’s jaw dropped. “wait. is that—” his voice pitched. “is that my dad?”
you smiled wider. teeth flashing.
“what the fuck—are you out of your mind?! psycho bitch, you’re fucking insane—”
click.
call ended.
“he’s gonna lose his fucking mind,” you whispered, giggling into your own shoulder.
nanami chuckles deep and out of breath. “let him.”
you feel the way his strokes start to grow heavier, a tremble blooming deep in his thighs, hips snapping forward with less precision now.
nanami’s breath stuttered, grip flexing hard around the tie as if it was the only thing keeping him grounded to your pussy.
“i’m—ah, i’m not gonna last.” he husked, his hips jackhammering into you languidly, making you feel the full thickness of him with every stroke. your slick gushed every time he bottomed out, wet sounds shameless in the otherwise quiet room.
he was so painfully close, yet he wanted to savor this moment. wanted to have this memory seared behind his eyelids long after the night was gone.
your cries were turning breathless, slurred, the pleasure cresting sharp, almost unbearable as you felt that tightness coiling in your stomach once again. “k-kento, please—can’t—”
“don't hold back,” he husked, his breath catching in his throat. “you earned it, sweetheart. let go.”
you nodded frantically, unable to form anything coherent as your release slammed into you hard. violent. white flashes of pleasure detonating in your stomach and ripping through your body.
“fuckfuckfuckfuuck— ” your lashes batted, tiny choked whines spilling from your mouth as his cock twitched deep inside you, swelling thicker, the heavy weight of it pressing into every sensitive nerve as your walls milked him greedily.
nanami's hips faltered, pace stuttering into a sloppy rhythm as he scrambled, releasing the tie from around your throat with a quick, careful tug as he pulled out.
before you could even whine, you feel the heavy weight of his cock dragging up—resting thick and flushed against the dip of your spine.
his breath is broken into low moans, and you barely had a second before the hot, sticky ropes of his release spilled across your back, striping messy against your skin.
just in time.
nanami’s head bowed, blonde strands falling loose from where they’d slipped behind his glasses. you could feel the tremble in his thighs, rolling through his entire body as his climax overcame him.
and for a moment, all you could hear was both of your breaths—deep, messy, syncing. the air smelled like sex. musk. your juices still wet between your legs.
he lingered there for a second longer, hips pressed forward, until he finally exhaled slow.
“shit,” nanami muttered breathlessly. “did i— was that too much?”
his voice cracked gentle now, worried.
your laugh came out light, breathless, sweet—finding his worriedness nothing short of sweet. “no. not at all. felt so good.”
he hummed, quiet relief softening the crease of his brow as he leaned down and pressed a tender kiss to the back of your neck.
“but i guess uh, father’s day is ruined. oops.”
@ssorenz™ do not, copy, repost or translate anywhere without my knowledge.
content warnings: maintenance man!toji, stuck in dryer trope, public sex, dubcon, creampie, slight breeding, unprotected sex, oral (f!recieving)
this wasn't how your sunday was supposed to go. you'd just wanted your favorite dress—the one that always disappeared into the dryer's depths. one overextended reach, one slippery sock on wet tile, and suddenly you were folded like origami into the machine.
somehow, your hips got wedged at the perfect (or rather, horrific) angle, leaving you folded in half, ass in the air, legs dangling out but unable to get enough leverage to pull yourself free. you flailed, face burning as your shirt rode up, the cold metal pressing against your bare stomach.
three attempts to wriggle free only wedged you tighter. the position left your crop top rucked up to your ribs, your shorts riding up dangerously high.
at least you were able to wriggle one hand out to grab your phone from your pocket. the number for maintenance has never looked so tempting. because you knew exactly who would answer.
the door creaked open exactly seventeen minutes later.
"maintenance."
that voice. like gravel and honey. your stomach swooped. silence. long, agonizing silence.
then, a low whistle. "ain't this a sight."
“well,” toji said. you could hear the amusement in his tone. “this a new kink? or just bad luck?”
“it’s… not what it looks like,” you stammered.
"now this," toji mused, boots scuffing against concrete as he approached, "is a first."
"it's not—i didn't—"
"uh huh." a calloused finger traced your exposed hipbone. "dryer eat your clothes, sweetheart? or just hungry for something else?"
he smelled stupidly good for a guy who supposedly spent his days fixing garbage disposals. his palm landed warm and heavy on your ass. you jolted, the metal vibrating with your movement.
"easy," he chuckled, fingers slipping beneath elastic. "wouldn't want you getting... stuck-er."
the tear of fabric was obscenely loud. cool air hit bare skin as your shorts gave way.
"toji—"
“fuck,” he muttered.
“already dripping for me?” his voice was dark. “is that why you called? wanted me to find you like this?”
"maybe," you quickly replied, your body still tense.
“relax, sweetheart,” he murmured. his fingers tightened on you and you shivered. “gonna get you out.”
except, he didn’t.
“i’ve always wondered,” he muttered, his voice dropping into a low growl as he roughly gripped the flesh of your ass, “how that pretty little cunt would look, all used and stretched.”
“please,” you gasped, his fingers fondling your puffy pearl. “just get me out.”
“i will,” he mused. “but maybe i want a taste first. is that okay, sweetheart?”
his fingers were still working your clit, sending sparks up your spine. “just a taste. i’ll stop if you don’t like it. i’m sure you’ll like it though.”
his free hand smacked your ass, hard. you gasped, but the sound was swallowed up by the clatter of his belt being undone.
“should i?” he murmured, more to himself than to you. “no, i shouldn’t.”
the metal rattled as he gripped your hips, tugging you back even further, and his mouth pressed to you. you let out a strangled sob as sucked on your swollen clit. it was too much, too intense.
he hummed, the sound vibrating through you, and pulled away, licking his lips.
“fucking delicious,” he purred.
“look at you,” he said. “all spread open. so fucking perfect.”
“please,” you moaned. “it’s not… i didn’t—”
you felt the head of his cock press against you and tensed.
“relax,” he murmured, “i’ll take care of you.” he delivered a sharp slap to your ass and you whimpered. he was hot and heavy, pushing you further into the cold steel.
your breath hitched as he slid into you, your body clenching down.
"fuck." he bit through his teeth. "tighter than i dreamed."
you panted, overwhelmed by the stretch. “wait—”
“just a little more,” he said, pulling back to press in even further. “just… fuck, you feel perfect.”
he was big, too big. you gasped as he bottomed out, the dryer rattling violently as he pulled all the way out and slammed back in.
“so good,” he grunted. “just knew you’d be so good.”
you could only hold on as he pounded into you, his fingers digging into your hips hard enough to bruise. your body jolted with every thrust, the metal rattling and creaking ominously. but he didn't slow, just kept fucking into you with powerful, relentless thrusts.
“gonna cum,” he warned, one hand sliding around to find your clit. you were too overwhelmed to do anything but take it as he rubbed tight, fast circles. “gonna fill you up—”
you came with a cry, clenching down around him as he slammed deep one final time, his cock pulsing inside you as let out a low groan.
the only sound was your panting and the hum of the machine. you felt his cock slip from you, followed by a sense of emptiness. his hands gripped on your hips sightly, before pulling you out, your legs like jello against the hard concrete floor.
“there,” he said smugly. “all fixed.”
"receipt's in the office," he said as he delivered a final pat to your dripping cunt. "be sure to... rate my service and leave a good tip, sweetheart."
note: i love me a good toji crack fic, the way i giggled so hard while writing this. it was supposed to be really short but i got carried away >.<
