karma

all my fic’s are crossposted on my ao3!(QTKarma) 19 years of hell <3

[qtkarma]

KARMA’S MASTERLIST

˖ ᡣ𐭩 ⊹ ࣪ ౨ৎ˚₊

Stranger Things

is it cool with you ( that I want to call your name ) ~ Mike Wheeler

⤷ summary : Mike and Reader both feel as though their love lives are leaps behind their classmates.

Miss Her, Kiss Her, Love Her— that Girl is Poison! ~ Mike Wheeler, WIP.

⤷summary : If you had asked Mike Wheeler, notorious nerd, AV and Hell Fire club leader, practically high school food chain algae how he had managed to even talk to you, let alone fuck you, he wouldn’t be able to answer you. Mike hopes and aches that that his little crush-filled-friends-with-benefit situation can evolve into something more. You don’t have any mercy in reminding what this is.

Jujustu Kaisen

Glory Box ~ Nanami Kento

⤷ summary : you and nanami fuck in the back of his very expensive orange bentley.

The Thin Line between Hate and Love ~ Yuuji Itadori

⤷summary : Yuuji Itadori isn’t familiar with the feelings of hatred and love ( and lust ) and can’t help getting them mixed up.

My Hero Academia

Deaf!Bakugou & Deaf!Reader headcannons ~ Bakugou Katsuki

⤷summary : bits and blurbs about how deaf!bakugou traverses his relationship with deaf!reader.

[qtkarma]

Is it cool with you ( that I want to call your name )

Mike and Reader both feel as though their love lives are leaps behind their classmates.

tw! smut, dry humping, f!reader, confessions.

A/n ; a wholeeee lot of built up yearning and pining. I adore the trope of inexperienced Mike and reader so yk I had to indulge. Lil cutie pies.

Neither you nor Mike had the chance to experience a true sense of your teenage years whilst dealing with the upside down. It’s hard enough for someone to go through puberty, but add inter-dimensional monsters hunting you down, and it’s pretty much ten times harder.

So, the two of you ( tried to ) ignore any building feelings and nonsensical crushes, tuning completely into destroying Vecna and living to see another summer. Yet, as everything began to wind down after senior year of highschool, you began to realize how far behind you were compared to others in your high school. Everyone had already reached first, second, third base, hell, most people already reached home plate by junior year.

And there you were. No experience whatsoever, and an extremely upsetting sense of being an outsider.

Yet, you weren’t truly alone.

One summer night, you and Mike sat in his basement. The group had decided to host a movie night, trying to get as many hangouts in before they’d have to leave for college. Everyone had left a while ago. Dustin promised he’d call Suzie, Will had to eat dinner with his family, and Lucas and Max had ducked out with them, giggling and whispering in each others ears. You’d tease her about it later. It was just Mike and you, sprawled out on his couch in a careless, summery way that only happens when no one is really thinking about where they end and the other begins. The two of you had always been close within the group and had no issue with touch, even if some of them had your mind fuzzy, like now.

The television flickers in front of them, the end credits rolling, washing the room in a cool blue glow that softens the edges of everything— their faces, the quilt bunched beneath them, and the half-finished bowl of popcorn sitting in the mix of their legs. Outside of the cracked windows, summer announces it’s arrival; cicadas buzz in steady waves, rising and falling like natures own background track. The warm air drifting from outside carries the faint scent of sun-heated grass, mixing with the smell of rich popcorn and flat sodas. The two of you are quiet, the kind of relaxed quiet that comes from long days of biking, no schedules, and the simple comfort of being exactly where you want to be.

“You do ever feel… different?” He murmured, glancing up at you. You look away from the tv, towards him. The blue glow highlights the angles of his face that had recently been traded from boyhood roundness. He is lean now— impossibly taller than last summer, and he carries himself in a way like he finally figured out what to do with his long limbs. Mike’s posture is relaxed, one arm draped along the back of the couch, but his eyes seemly drift over to you whenever he thinks you aren’t looking.

There’s a quiet energy between the two of you— nothing obvious, just the kind of small, warm awareness that settles in the pauses between words. The tv flickers, and it’s hard to read his face. Outside, the cicadas buzz against the thick summer air, but inside the room it feels suspended, like time is stretching just a little longer as he glances your way again, hoping you wont notice the gleam in his eyes, but at the same time aching for you too.

“What kind of different? Fighting aliens and Russian spies different, or high school different?” You smiled, throwing a piece of popcorn in your mouth. His jaw clenched, eyes darting around the room. He swallowed hard.

“I… I don’t know.” He fumbled with the popcorn bowl tucked between the two of you, setting it on the table. His tounge darted out, wetting his lips. He opened his mouth, closed it again, and sighed. Your eyebrows furrowed. The poor Paladin seemed troubled.

“I mean, I feel like I’m lagging. I feel like I’ve never experienced high school.” He let out a short laugh. “I mean, the most I’ve ever done is go to the stupid snow ball dance in middle school.”

Where is he going with this? You wondered, watching the boy try to form words.

“I mean, Lucas and Max… they’ve kissed, they’ve…” he paused, casting his eyes down. “done stuff.” Your face heated up quicker than ever. Gulping, you stretched your sock clad foot to out to brush against his clothed leg. You understood the innuendo.

“No. Yeah. I get what you mean. I’ve thought about it too, y’know?” You answered honestly, fidgeting with a strand of hair that had fallen into your eyes. “Max has told me about it before, it makes me feel like I guess I’m… missing out?” Your face burnt. Were you really talking about this with Mike? Handsome, sweet, dorky Mike?

The curly haired boy breathed a heavy sigh of relief. His puppy dog eyes stared at you, half lidded and so, so enticing. The air in the room felt heavy, like it was pressing down with each moment. Mike sat up, leaning forward. You could see every freckle, every stray hair that had slipped from his mop of curls. His hand trailed up your bare leg, a bit shaky, leaving a trail of goosebumps. You bit down on your lip, hard, finally looking back up at him.

“I just… wanted to see how you felt. We did somehow end up in the same boat.” he chuckled, then stopped, looking at you for any sense of uncertainty. There was none. Mike had you enthralled, trapped in his cage. His smell invaded your nose, clouding your brain. Pine needles. Fireplace smoke. Musky aftershave that radiated a statement of ‘I’m grown.’ You gravitated closer to him. The tension that had always followed the two of you around felt like it was hitting an all time high.

“Yeah?” You egged him on, a hint of bravery showing through your nervousness. Every breath you let out, Mike breathed in. It was the two of you, so close your noses brushed, legs entangled, hearts pounding in sync. Slowly, you cupped his cheek, not thinking, just moving. It’s a light brush, a test to see if a touch so intimate is okay.

Mike does not hesitate at your request, closing the gap. He kissed you back with a sense of urgency, of yearning. You gasp against his lips, hands flying to the front of his shirt. It was so surreal kissing the boy that you’d always had a crush on, so surreal that it felt like you’d float away with the cicadas if you let go of him.

His hands trail across your body, like he was already familiar with every inch of you. One slides up your spine and you can’t help but shudder. He deepens the kiss, pouring untold want into it. The kiss was far from perfect, or experienced, yet it made it all the better. The occasional clack of teeth, followed by shy huffs of laughter. Shaky hands trailed over each other’s bodies, not wanting to push the other too far. You threaded your hands into his curls and whimpered into his mouth. It felt like the two of you were on fire; like the air was pure electricity and every touch of Mike was like a conductor hooked up to your body, letting sparks fly into the air.

You tugged at the neck of his t-shirt, an unspoken question. Mike answered, pulling back to throw it over his head and onto the floor. It takes an extra second for it to make it over his head and you both laugh. The movie had rewinded itself by now, and purple lighting from the scene casted across his body. All sharp angles and a decently built body. Who knew fighting demogorgons would give you so much muscles.

Mike’s hand slowly slipping under your shirt brought you back to reality. His chest rose and fell quickly, trying to catch his breath. You bit your lip, sliding your shirt slowly up your body and throwing it onto the floor next to his. Mike’s eyes widened almost comedically at the sight of your bra clad chest. Thankfully, you had decided to wear a cute one—white, covered in small pink roses. You always imaged that you’d be extremely self conscious of being in this setting with someone, barring everything intimate to each other— but no. You had no lick of nervousness in you. It was just Mike. The boy who’d hold you when you cried over failing a test and always bike you home, no matter the weather. It was just Mike, the boy you grew up with.

“You can touch,” you grabbed his wrist, resting on the top part of your chest. “I want you too. Please.” Mike melted at your request. The poor boy had absolutely zero clue of what to do as he snaked his hand under the fabric, and gently squeezed, marveling at how soft they were. You whimpered as his fingers brushed against your perked nipples.

You shimmed forward, straddling him. You breath caught in your throat when you felt something dig into your thigh. I can really make him feel like this? You thought. Mike groaned, something low and deep from the back of his throat. Your cunt throbbed at the sound.

“What- what feels good?” He gulped, trailing his other hand to the clip of your bra, “And this- can it come off? ‘Wanna see you.”

“Oh, yeah—,” you paused, reaching back to skillfully undo your bra. Once you slid it off your arms, you reached for Mike’s hand, cupping yours over his, gently guiding him.

“Don’t squeeze to hard…” Mike, nodded, fire burning in his eyes. “Um, my nipples are pretty sensitive… don’t be too rough though.” This was so embarrassing, sharing the things that made you fill with pleasure, but at the same time, ignited a heat in your core watching Mike listen so diligently. Wanting to please you. He brushes his finger tips lightly against your bud, rewarded with a small whimper. And with that, he’s off. He grabs your waist with his other hand, pulling you back against his lips. The sudden shift has your cunt right on top of his dick, and your mind practically melts.

Your grin into the kiss and give a slow, deliberate roll of your hips down into him. Mike hisses in pleasure, hips bucking up for more. A wave of never felt before pleasure washes through you, leaving your thoughts mush and floaty.

The two of you moved in sync, moving and grabbing, kissing, licking. It was all so much— your heart was pounding and you swear you could feel your blood rushing through your veins. Mike’s free hand dug into your hips, pressing and grinding you back and forth across his strained cock. When it catches your clit through the layers of fabric, you vibrate, tugging on his hair and gasping. His gently squeezes your tit, brushing the pads of his finger tips oh so lightly across the hard bud. The heat inside of you feels supercharged with every movement, your stomach twisting into knots of pleasure.

He suddenly bucks up into you with a new sense of urgency, letting out a small ‘ah’. You respond with the same energy, rolling your hips against him deeper, with more purpose. His hand slips from your chest and grabs at your waist, grinding into you with newfound willpower, chasing more of the fire that clouded both your bodies. You hold onto him tighter, kissing him back feverishly, whispering mantras of ‘yes, please, fuck’.

Suddenly, his hips stutter l and you can feel his cock pulse beneath you. His head tips back, adams apple bobbing as he practically whines your name out, low and deep. You slow your movements, intending to stop, but his hands keep pulling and tugging you. “Want you to finish too. I- uh, didn’t last long.” He whispers the last part, his face flushed red.

You almost moan at the statement, and Mike beckons you back, latching his lips onto the delicate skin of your neck, licking and sucking. You mewl against the crown of his head, breathing in his shampoo and sweat. One hand slinks up back to your boobs, flicking and teasing. The other keeps your hips steadily snapping into his, coaxing you closer and closer. Your legs dig into his thighs impossibly closer, and you fist a handful of his hair in attempt to keep you grounded. The knots in your stomach tighten with every lick, every touch, every press of your bodies together. Your body buzzed at all the attention. The newfound pleasure has you finishing minutes later. You tremble violently as your orgasm rushes over you, yelping out Mikes name over and over. He coaxes you through it, lightening up his touches, nuzzling into your neck. Neither of you move for a long moment, savouring the afterglow.

Finally, you pull back with a deep breath, looking down at the scene in front of you. His previously neat curls had been ruined, now wild and framing his face and puppy dog eyes- which looked like they were begging for you. His pale chest rose and fell in rapid breaths, and his lips were glossy with spit and swollen from kissing so hard. Faint red marks were starting to appear on his shoulders, courtesy of you. It looked like he was straight out of a wet dream. Maybe this was some sort of crazy lucid dream. Mike let out a sharp exhale, tracing the shape of your body. You lean into his hands, melted putty. He grins at you, a small smile where just the tips of his teeth poke out. You giggle and collapse back against him, body spent of all its energy. There’s a stretch of calm silence as you both catch your breath, and Mike finally speaks.

“I’ve thought about this before. So many times.” He admits, “And other things. How you laugh. How you get so giddy over small things. Your love for the group.” His voice is so quiet, like speaking to loud will suddenly break everything. “I don’t just want you like this, I— I want you in every single way I can have you. I want to go on dates. Read comics with you. Cuddle and listen to music on our walkmans. To love you openly, and brag about how amazing you are.” Mike breathes against your hair, clutching you close, so gently, like you were going to shatter.

Your heart feels like it’s jumped out of your chest, into your throat, ready to throw itself at the feet of this boy and tell him of all the times you’d imaged loving him. How many times you’d pushed it down and prayed that one day you’d be able to confess your love for him, the secret you’d quietly carried for so long.

“Fuck, Mike? How long?”

“Way too long.” He laughed into your hair. “I was just worried that with everything… Vecna, the Mind Flayer… that maybe somehow I’d lose you. That if anyone knew how much I cared for you that they’d use it against me and hurt you. I never could bring myself to risk that.”

You breathe in, deep, filling every inch of your lungs with the scent of him. It smelled like childhood, when the two of you would fall asleep against each other on car rides, or when you’d squish so close on your bed to read the latest comic series you both liked. It smelt like the boy you fell in love with years ago.

“I’ve probably loved you for longer,” you tease, looking into his puppy dog eyes. He raises a brows and smirks at you. “No way.”

“Yes way.”

“No way.”

“Yes w-“

He cuts you off, smashing your lips back together. Much slower than before, pouring every emotion he’d ever felt about you into it. Taking his time to memorize every inch of your lips, like this was the last time he’d ever see you.

When, really, this was just the beginning.

[qtkarma]

I’m a sucker for this headcannon. gn!reader. takes place during second year. Born-deaf reader, and bakugou who loses his hearing after the war from his quirk.

deaf!bakugou katsuki who begrudgingly accepts your offer of teaching him JSL. “I’m not weak because of this. don’t go taking pity on me.” you beamed, setting a cup of tea infront of him. “exactly. neither of us are weak.” you signed.

deaf!bakugou katsuki who already knows a surprising amount of sign language, just because he wanted to be able to communicate with deaf!reader. he doesn’t admit it though, and claims his father taught him awhile ago.

deaf!bakugou katsuki who begins knocking on the door to your dorm, but not for more lessons. “to teach you how to fight,” he always says, but the two of you never train, rather, you end up on your bed talking about whatever manga you had both just finished.

deaf!bakugou katsuki and deaf!reader who sometimes both turn off their hearing aids and just sit in each others company, ignoring people’s calls for them and the annoying buzz of the dorms air conditioning.

deaf!bakugou katsuki and deaf!reader who will sign to eachother from across the room, far to fast for anyone else to read. No one knows what they talk about in their little conversations ; the occasional giggle from you or eye roll from katsuki.

deaf!bakugou katsuki who will always accompany you to your audiology appointments. “just because,” he says. In turn, you go to his, “just because.”

deaf!bakugou katsuki and deaf!reader who don’t even need sign or words to understand the other. a simple glance of the eyes or a nod of the head is all you need to communicate.

deaf!bakugou katsuki who spent far to long perfecting how to ask deaf!reader out in sign. he wanted it to be perfect, so you wouldn’t have to correct him. ( he never minded it, you taking his hand in your tiny ones and showing him the correct way )

deaf!bakugou katsuki and deaf!reader being a couple doesn’t surprise the class of 2-A ; in all honesty, they assumed the two of you had started dating awhile ago.

deaf!bakugou katsuki who gently takes off deaf!readers hearing aid when you forget to before bed. careful not to wake you up, he brushes away your hair and gently removes it, setting it safely next to his on the nightstand before wrapping you up in his arms again, placing a gentle kiss on your hairline.

deaf!bakugou katsuki who learnt the sign for “I love you” ages ago, and finally gets to use it.

BONUS ;

deaf!bakugou katsuki who has no shame in dirty talking to you in sign in public. absolutely no shame. even in a crowded room, packed with people, he’ll do it.

“bathroom, 10. need you.”

“katsuki, we’re in public! and I’m not having sex in a dirty bathroom.”

“i’ll just hold you, then. won’t have you touching anything but me.”

“how about I just suck you off the car ride back?”

he pauses, that usually stoic face of his cracking for a split second.

“deal.”

He finger-signed touching, you noted. you’ll have to teach him how to hand sign it the car, to.

[qtkarma]

the thin line between hate and love

Yuuji Itadori isn’t familiar with the feelings of hatred and love ( and lust ) and can’t help getting them mixed up.

tw ; masturbation, underwear stealing, f!reader

a/n yuuji’s a tad of a perv in this. whoops.

Yuuji Itadori hated you.

Hate was an emotion the teenage boy wasn’t familiar with ; I mean, you could ask anyone and they would only describe him as the worlds most happy-go lucky kind of human, physically incapable of hating someone.

But yet, the moment you entered Jujutsu Tech, that foreign feeling creeped into his mind, grabbing him by the snares.

When he had confessed to Nobara and Megumi about this new-found emotion, they quirked a brow before sharing a look.

“You don’t hate her.” Nobara turned back towards him, a smug look on her face. Megumi simply kept sipping on his chocolate milkshake, leaning back into the diners red booth.

Yuuji gave her a baffled look. He absolutely hated you ; hated when you opened your oh-so kissable mouth to make a well timed witty remark with your silky smooth voice.

He hated the way you fought ; ruthlessly, with a hint of strategy. How you could set your mind to something and make sure it happened.

He hated the way you called him when you were at the store, asking if he needed anything.

He hated the way you got along with everyone. The moment you had joined the handful of students studying jujutsu you had fit in like a missing puzzle piece, completing their friend group.

He hated how you took care of those around you. The one morning he awoke to find you in the Jujutsu Tech’s kitchen, open windows letting in the coo of morning doves, the sunrise illuminating your figure, clad in a oversized graphic tee. Your back was turned to him, and you were clearly making breakfast for the tenants of the dorms. He hated the smile you gave him when you noticed him.

“That’s my shirt.” Was all he said, his lip curled in a small snarl. He hated the way you looked good in it.

“It is? Shit, m’ sorry. I must’ve mistook it for my own when I did laundry earlier.” Wiping your hands on a spare hand towel, you began to fix a plate. “I’ll go change in a moment. Keep an eye on the eggs for me? Toge mentioned wanting sunny side up eggs, and I really don’t want them to burn…”

And then, you say a plate full of Yuuji’s favourite breakfast foods right in front of him. Turning, you grabbed a napkin and utensils, setting them next to the piping hot food.

“Sit, eat. I’ll go change and wake up everyone else before everything gets cold. Your laundry is in the laundry room, to. I saw everyone’s clothes were piling up and figured I could help out.”

Yuuji stared at the food for what felt like forever. Chewing on the inside of his cheek, he pulled out the old wooden chair and began to eat. Holy shit. This is good.

“You can keep it on.” The words flew out of his mouth before he even processed them. “Go wake everyone up. And, uh, thanks for the food and laundry.” Yuuji stuffed another bite of pancake in his mouth, determined to not say anything else he was going to regret.

“Thanks. Eat as much as you want, to. I’ll make more if I need to. I already know Panda will scarf half of it down.” A small smile painted your face and you left the room.

“Yuuji?” Nobara questioned, waving a wilty french fry of the pink haired boys face.

“I hate her. I know it.” Yuuji slapped Nobara’s hand from his face. “I can’t stand her, actually.”

Nobara let out a sigh, dipping the fry into Megumi’s chocolate shake. He threw her a nasty look before speaking.

“There’s a thin line between hate and love, y’know that? I think your mixing up your emotions.” Nobara nodded in agreement, mouth full of fry’s and chocolate shake.

Yuuji opened his mouth to argue, but… he couldn’t. Nothing came to his mind. Did he really hate you? I mean… of course he did. The past year of you being at Jujutsu Tech has been hell for him. He couldn’t go anywhere without you being there, or being mentioned. He couldn’t stand it.

“See? You don’t hate her,” Nobara leaned forward, a devilish grin on her face. “Maybe you even love her! I mean, I would to, she’s amazing, and got the looks and a hot bod.”

No. He definitely hated you.

He hated the way you stretched before fighting ; leaning over to flash him a glimpse of your cleavage in your stupid modified uniform. He hated the way you wore tight dresses during parties, skimpily sliding up your thighs with every move. He hated the way he had lost a bet, forced to do everyone’s laundry and found a few thongs in your basket of dirty laundry. ( He hated the way he pocketed one of them. )

He hated the way the thought of you could have him doubled over in the shower, one arm holding him up and the other wrapped around his painfully hard cock, wishing it was you.

And he absolutely hated that at one of Maki’s stupid parties that she had suggested spin the bottle, and how you all sat in a circle, Yuuji directly across from you. He hated watching you share a kiss with Yuuta, the way the sorcerer blushed and cupped your face. He hated the way the boy excused himself immediately after, sporting an obvious boner.

He hated that neither his or your spins landed on each other before the game finally dispersed.

Nobara’s loud laugh drew him from his thinking. Her head thrown back, hands clutching her stomach. Megumi even was laughing.

“You don’t hate her! My god, you are in love with her! Aww, our little baby Yuuji is all grown up and in love! Are you gonna ask her out? Take her on a cute little date-“ Yuuji covered his ears with his hands, sinking into the diner booth.

Shit.

Maybe Yuuji didn’t hate you.

[qtkarma]

GLORY BOX

you and nanami fuck in the back of his very expensive orange bentley.

tw ; f!reader, smut, age difference, teacher x student

a/n it’s not specified how much, but the characters are aged up in this! ( 18 and up ) I wrote this while listening to Glory Box, hence the title, and Million Dollar Man. Stan Nanami Kento!!

You had been in Nanami Kento’s car a total of three times ;

One, when you had been severely injured after taking down a curse, and the only saviour that wasn’t hours away was Nanami. Even in your delirious state, all you could worry about was your blood being all over the expensive leather seats. Nanami had scooped you up off the ground, ignoring the blood staining his suit, and slipped you into the passenger side. As he reached over you, buckling you in, he insisted that cleaning them would be no problem ; you were the priority.

Two, when you had went out clubbing with Jujutsu Tech’s first and second years. ( chaperoned by Gojo, of course. But could you really consider him a chaperone if he was the one who dragged you all out to celebrate you becoming a special grade? ) Not even a drink nor an hour in, the heels you had bought specially for tonight had broken, a light-weight Megumi split a drink onto the very expensive Gucci dress that had been an anonymous gift, and a very drunk passerby of the expensive club elbowed you right in the face on the dance floor. You weren’t having it, and already being in a bad mood, wanted to leave. So, Gojo called up Nanami to take you home, insisting an Uber wasn’t very safe. ( You argued you were a sorcerer, of course you knew basic self defence. ) but yet, you found yourself letting Nanami open his passenger side door for you, taking your hand and guiding you in. You really hoped you didn’t accidentally flash him a peak of your panties, the ones that bared a resemblance to that tie you had always wanted wrapped around your hands.

Three, when Nanami had somehow been assigned to take you to a mission. ( you never would know that Nanami insisted he take you himself. ) You were nervous the whole car ride ; this was an especially dangerous one, more dangerous than the previous one where you had bled all over the very same passenger side seat. Your usually radiant confidence was non-existent, replaced by a quiet demeanour with eyes cast down at your fiddling hands the whole time. Eventually, the clacking of your acrylic nails must have annoyed Nanami, to where he pulled the car over. He rounded the car, opened your door, and pulled you out and sat yourself on the hood of the burnt orange Bentley, then sat next to you. The area was deserted, the only thing around was a beautiful sunset, casting you and Nanami in stunning oranges and reds. You had opened your mouth to say something, but he cut you off.

“You know how strong you are, right? A hell of a lot stronger than I was when I was your age. Satoru raves about you and Itadori ; how the both of you are a new age of jujutsu, how you have the potential to be as strong as him one day. Even the elders are scared of your strength; they’re worried you’re too strong for your own good. One botched mission shouldn’t change anything. I… I should have accompanied you to it.” The blond turned towards you and wiped away the stray tears running down your face.

You returned to the Bentley after the mission, a smile brighter than the stars that lit up the night sky painting your face. Not even a singular scratch laid on your skin. You would never forget the smile and pat on the head Nanami gave you, nor the way your thighs rubbed together as your cunt throbbed.

Today, you found yourself in Nanami’s car for the fourth time. Except, you weren’t in the passenger seat.

You were in the back.

Not bleeding,

and certainly not dressed.

Nanami hovered over you, his glasses discarded somewhere on the car floor and his lust filled brown eyes hungrily eyeing your white lacey bra and panties, the only things that remained on you.

You burned under his gaze, nervously casting your gaze to the back of the passenger seat to avoid the eye contact that only made slick pool in your panties even more.

“Look at me,” his voice broke through the combined sounds of both your heavy breathing. Licking your lips, you complied. “You’re so…” Nanami trailed off, one of his huge hands coming to caress the side of your waist.

The leather seats were surprisingly comfy, minus the seatbelt buckles digging into your side. Reaching your hand up, you trailed your acrylics down the side of his neck, stopping to loosen his tie and swiftly unbutton the top two buttons of his work shirt, revealing a peak of his tanned built skin.

“Off… please… ‘M the only one naked.” You murmured, letting your hand fall back down to its original position beside your head.

Nanami let out a low whispery laugh, reaching down to one handedly undo his belt. Your stomach churned at the sight, squirming in anticipation.

He let his belt fall to the car’s floor, alongside your jujutsu tech uniform. He reached down to unzip his slacks, but you reached out, slapping his hand away to do it yourself.

“Needy, are you?” Nanami smirked, letting you work. With a roll of your eyes, you unzipped his work slacks before pausing.

He wore black boxer briefs, straining against his obvious erection. If you looked hard enough, you could see a small, dark spot of precum staining the front of them. With shaking hands, you let your fingers break the waistband, slowly pulling them down.

His cock was beautiful, to say the least. It was probably a tad bit over the average length, but what it lacked in length, it made up for in width. An angry, red tip with precum beading at the top practically glared at you. A prominent vein ran up the side, and at the base, neatly trimmed blond pubes.

To say you were scared of it hurting was an understatement. Nanami Kento’s painfully pretty cock was going to split you into two.

With a shaky breath, you trailed your index finger up the side, biting your lip when it twitched at the touch, and up the tip, collecting the pre on your finger. You brought it up to your mouth, kitten licking it right off.

“Fuck… please…” Nanami growled, moving his hand from the place beside your head and slipping his slacks and boxers all the way off. He reached for your underwear, thumb caressing the skin just above the band.

“You’re sure about this? I don’t want you to regret anything, darling.”

With a huff, you answered. “Nanami, I wouldn’t regret this in a million years. Now please,” grabbing his hand, your forced it down, taking your panties with it. “Fuck me.”

“Kento. Call me Kento.” Kento pulled your panties down the rest of the way, using the utmost care to gently pull them from your ankles, making quick work to reach down and stuff them into the pockets of his slacks.

Turning his attention back to you, he watched as you reached around to unclasp your bra, throwing it to the side. Your half lidded eyes, the ones that had Kento wrapped around your finger since the first day you met, beckoned him to your pussy.

Kento grabbed on of your legs, throwing it over his shoulder, mouth watering at the sight of your pretty little cunt. He stroked himself a few times before resting his bulbous head in between your slick folds, guiding it up and down. Every bump of it on your puffy clit had you gasping, impatience growing.

“Kento…” you spread your legs wider, letting him see how your hole squeezed around nothing, begging to be filled.

“You kill me, you know that?” Kento lined himself up with your slick hole, glancing up at you. You looked out of it. Your tousled hair splayed across the seats, body twitching and your face… Kento would do anything to make sure you always had that needy look on it

“Please…” you begged. “Fuck me, Kento.”

It’s a plead that made his balls heavy as he pushed into you. He really was going to tear you in two, you worried. You wouldn’t really mind dying like this ; squished into Nanami Kento’s backseat of his very expensive car, his dick inside you and body all over you.

Leaning down, he nipped and bit at your skin, leaving a trail of hickeys and bite marks from your neck to your breasts. Turning attention to your breasts, he lapped and swirled his tongue around nipple, paying attention to your neglected breast with his hand, massaging and pinching. You arched your back, desperate to get even closer.

“Please, Kento.. Fuck me like you mean it, please!” You begged, mind and body to full to do anything other than to plea. Kento, ever the gentlemen, complied.

He pounded into you at a ruthless pace, splitting you into two right in the backseat of his Bentley. The leather is cool on your hot skin, covered in a mix of sweat and slick.

“You’re so pretty. Such a pretty little thing…” Kento huffed, leaning back down to start to nip at the other side of your neck. “You parade around in those little skirts, and never notice all the boys staring at you. How they talk about you.” Kento growled.

“They wouldn’t know how to please you, is that why you decided to chase after me? Hm?”

“Yes! Yes!” You cried, desperate for more. Every drag and push of his cock in your cunt left you begging for more, tears beginning to pool in the corner of your eyes. One hand clutching onto his arm and the other clawing at his toned back, freshly done acrylics leaving angry red marks up and down his back.

Kento glanced down at where the two of you met, a ring of slick collecting at the base of his dick. And is that… blood?

You were a virgin.

You were a virgin and hadn’t mentioned it. You were a virgin and here Kento was fucking you like a whore in the back of his car. Here Kento was, a man twice your age, taking all your innocence and maidenhood.

And here Kento was, dick twitching inside you and growing even harder at the realization.

“Please, inside! Can’t, can’t take it anymore…” you babbled, fat crocodile tears streaming down your face, mascara clumping together and framing your captivating eyes.

“Of course, baby. ‘M gonna give you whatever you want…” Kento grunted, grasping onto your hips, one hand finding purchase on your puffy clit. The rubber band forming inside your stomach is drawing impossibly tight, and there’s nothing you want more than for Nanami Kento to fill you up and make you his.

All it takes it for him to call out your name is that husky voice of his for it to snap. A searing explosion of pleasure rips through you, toes curling and mind shattered. Your entire body shakes, burning with electricity. An orgasm only Kento could give you ; not your fingers, not the orange dildo you had hidden in your bedside drawer, and certainly not any of your little male classmates that always seemed to perk up when your around.

Kento follows not even seconds after you, driving his cock as far as he can into your pretty little cunt, tip nuzzled up against your cervix. His thick cock fills you up with ropes of cum, and you can’t help but watch as the way his abs contract and body tenses. Your vice like squeeze on his cock milks every single drop out of him, filling you up to the brim. Kento can’t help but let out a quiet moan as some of it spills from around his dick, leaking onto the leather seats.

That, though… that was gonna be annoying to clean.