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It's your twenty first birthday - and your boyfriend Suguru would rather dance and make out with his 'best friend' - and your sometimes threesome partner - Satoru Gojo. Asking for just one night alone and getting denied, you end up running into Toji at the bar, who offers to buy you a drink - and to eat you out <3 Happy birthday to you!
pairings - Toji x reader (past satosugu x reader)
warnings - oral (m and f receiving) calling Toji 'daddy', reader may have daddy issues but we LOVE HER, Satosugu being annoying tbh lol, size kink, p in v sex, spitting, creampie, use of baby, lil girl, slut, degradation and praise, obsessed Toji hehe. 4.5k <3
This was a commission for one of my favorite people in the world - @uhnosav and all she said was to write Daddy Toji hehe, so this was far too much fun, I love you babyy.
this yummy art is from sweetolpotato on x!
“What is he doing here? Suguru, can you ever talk to me alone?” You cross your arms, scowling at the white haired man who comes up to you, tilting your chin up.
“Aw sweets, what sort of greeting is that for your other boyfriend?”
“You're not though,” Satoru was gorgeous of course, but you signed up to be with Suguru Geto. The first few weeks dating him were perfect, then he decided to bring Satoru in for a threesome.
It was fun, right? Until Suguru stopped seeing you without him, Satoru was always there. You couldn’t even go have breakfast without his lanky ass joining, wrapping an arm around your waist right with Suguru – and it’s not that two boyfriends doesn’t sound hot, okay? It absolutely does, but Satoru has no interest in you aside from fucking you with Suguru.
He hardly knows you at all, shoving his cock in your mouth or kissing you with Suguru, chuckling and ‘accidentally’ kissing him when they eat you out together. It would all be hot or fun if you could have a connection with Satoru aside from physical. You’re absolutely sure that he only does this to be close to Suguru though, with his mean little smile directed at you.
“Sugu could you get our girl to chill out,” Satoru flicks your forehead, you scowl and turn over to Suguru, drink to his lips, a brow raised.
“I’m not your girl!”
“She’s fiery tonight, hmm?”
“Satoru,” he starts softly, then looks down at you, leaning low and setting his drink on the bar. “Princess…”
“Don’t fucking ‘princess’ me,” you sigh when he cups your face, the way he ruins your mind with a few precise strokes of his cock is unmatched, but it’s worse what he does when his thumb brushes your cheek. “I want time alone for us, it’s literally my twenty-first birthday.”
“He just wants to celebrate,” Suguru eyes Satoru, who’s standing behind you, ordering the fruitiest drink on the menu. “He’s important to me, all right? I want you both to be in my life.”
“And I’m not taking away from that, not at all,” you sigh and step a little closer, the hum of the music rushing through your body. “I promise I’m not. I just want us time too, it’s fine for… fun, or for your friend, but…”
“I can’t just not have him around, all right?” You blink just a bit, frowning then.
“Even on my birthday?”
“You act like you don’t love us both fucking you,” the dark haired man leans low, breath ghosting over your lips. “Had us in your holes last week, didn’t you?”
You heat up now, tugging at your little dress you wore tonight, a pretty little black number that hugs your delicate curves. You know you look good, but Satoru and Suguru hardly look at you honestly, other than quick little heated glances, before going back to looking at each other. They do share you, they fuck good, and eat pussy good, but they just… look into each other’s eyes all the goddamn time.
Maybe you’re being dramatic…
You sigh. “I’m asking for a night just us,” you say then, looking at Satoru. “We can be together another night, okay? But just one, it’s so crazy to never have a bit of time alone.”
“It’s Satoru,” Suguru smiles sadly now, kissing your lips, Satoru’s hand is brushing down your arm. “You’re important to me, okay?”
“What about me, hmm?” Suguru chuckles and drags Satoru over to him, the two of them going on about some bullshit from high school.
You’re ignored for your damn birthday, alone at the bar buying a drink when those two rich little shits are laughing, Satoru’s lit off one fruity drink when a huge, tall man comes up, leaning over the bar, you have to crank your head to look up at him. He’s a little older than your boyfriend – soon to be ex boyfriend – Suguru, and about the same height.
But fuck is he buff, so broad you swallow a bit, he’s in this slutty excuse for a shirt that’s just clinging to him, these loose white pants that don’t hide his dick print whatsoever. He looks at you then, you can make out the hints of the pretty green in them, when he takes a beer and brings it to his lips, studying you with a little tilt of his head.
“Here’s your drink, it’s fifteen-” the bartender says, but Toji cuts her off.
“Put it on mine.”
“Oh, thank you,” you take your little rumchata and fireball, he looks at it curiously. “It’s yummy, you should get one.”
“Looks like cum,” you scoff now.
“What!?”
“It does though,” he smirks now, leaning down to take a sip. “You like drinking cum, doll?”
His words hit you in the damn ovaries, when he licks his lips and hands you the drink he’d taken the smallest sip of. You throw it back quickly, he raises a brow.
“You do like to drink it.”
“You’re a freak,” you grumble, licking the cinnamon off your lips. “Can I get another? It’s my birthday.”
“Shit, of course,” he orders another and his lashes lower a bit. “Happy birthday, doll.”
Doll.
Why’s that so hot?
He’s old enough to probably be your father and that just really does something for you, Suguru and Satoru were like thirty so there was a bit of a gap, but Satoru looked like a damn baby. To the point you were sure he was younger than you – this guy looked like a whole man.
You don’t even hear Suguru and Satoru when you sip your next drink. “What’s your name?”
“Toji,” his gaze drifts to the men behind you, amusement in his gaze. “These your little friends?”
“Who?” You frown when you see them both right next to each other, Satoru’s arm is wrapping your waist, Suguru is brushing your hair back, kissing your neck. “Oh… them…”
“Pookie, stop drinking with creepy old men,” Satoru earns Toji’s chuckle, completely unbothered, sipping the rest of his beer and leaning back. “Come dance with us.”
“Mmm,” Suguru ends up kissing Satoru’s neck when you turn around, it is hot and all, okay? But you want the attention on you, not those insane blue eyes Satoru has when he practically whimpers from Suguru’s nibble. “Of course, Princess, we want you to have fun tonight.”
“Well I’m going to,” you lean forward and tiptoe, dragging the big man down for a kiss, you hear a scoff of indignation behind you, looking up at Toji now. “With him.”
“What now!?”
“Princess…”
“I’m tired of this,” you look back at them now, shaking your head. “It’s my birthday and it’s still all about Satoru. Date him.”
“What!? We’re not… gonna date?” Suguru falters as he talks, Satoru sighs now, frowning at you.
“You don’t want to have fun anymore?” Satoru asks, stepping close and tilting your chin. “I was gonna let you suck me off for your birthday.”
“Yeah no, I’ll suck this guy. Suguru, it’s over… Satoru… you’re weird. Hot, but weird.”
“She thinks I’m hot,” Satoru’s snickering as you drag this stranger away, Suguru seems a little upset but you think you catch them making out when you peek back.
“The fuck was that?” Toji asks, stepping out into the cool night air, you rub your arms just a bit, sighing.
“I need to get away, we don’t have to do anything,” you pull out your phone, pulling up your app. “I’ll grab a ride-”
“Thought you were sucking me tonight?” You blush a bit, you may have been a little bold but Suguru and the little shit Satoru are your only experience. Good in bed, but you sort of felt like this third wheel constantly. Even now, Suguru is texting you in the group chat, and Satoru’s sending emojis.
“I mean…” You trail off a bit, sighing.
“It’s your birthday though,” he leans down and tilts your chin up, god even his lips and eyes are slutty. “Should eat your pussy out, huh?”
“Y-you wanna…” You trail off a bit, something about him has you all flustered.
“Actin’ all slutty back there, now you’re shy? Cute.”
“Whatever, what if you’re a psycho killer, hmm?”
“Maybe I am,” you eye a few scars littering his biceps. “Can serial killers not eat pussy good?”
“Well I wouldn’t know… you’re so full of it,” you push him now, giggling a bit. “Fuck it, can you give me a ride home? I have more rumchata.”
“More cum you mean?”
“You’re so freaky,” but he does give you a ride, he’s got this mustang from the early nineties, his big hand on your thigh, thumb brushing your knee. You’re insane, right? Inviting a stranger to your home….
But you don’t regret it when you’re inside, he’s got your dress off in a pool at your ankles, mouth messy as it sucks your nipples, teeth biting them, leaving marks when your head falls back. Toji’s lifting you like it’s nothing, thighs on either side of his hips, whining out into his mouth. Toji’s huge hands are on your ass, carrying you to your room when your little pomeranian starts nipping at his pant leg.
“Loki stop,” you mumble, doesn’t he know you’re trying to get eaten out for your birthday!? “I’ll give you treats if you stop!”
Toji grimaces. “Ankle biter.”
“Hey, don’t be rude!” Toji snorts, shutting the door on your mad little dog.
“Not having him cock block me, I don’t care if he’s cute.”
“You think he’s cute?” Toji rolls his eyes.
“Hah,” Toji throws you down on your own bed, it bounces ever so slightly then clubs over you, his heavy weight making the springs creak. His dark hair falls over his forehead, green eyes darkening as he presses a kiss on your lips, you arch for it, hands entangling in the dark locks and tugging. “Mmm, what the fuck is all this?”
“What’s – Toji!?” He’s scowling at the plushes lining your bedboard, they’re all over the top part of your bed – Kuromi, Hello Kitty, cute little Pokemon, Toji can’t have them staring as he wrecks your little cunt.
So? He throws them.
“You can’t throw my plushies!”
“The fuck I can’t,” he tosses them all on the floor, earning your huff of indignation, sitting up on your elbows with your hair falling back off your shoulders, he can’t help but admire how pretty your tits are rising and falling like that underneath your slutty little excuse for a top. “I don’t want an audience, doll.”
“An audience? They’re plushies… and… mnh!” You gasp out when his teeth nip your inner thigh, shoving them apart and revealing that lacy little thong you have on. “What are you… ah!”
“Gonna get your pretty little cunt off, hmm?” You suck in a breath, cunt already dripping against that lacy barrier when his tongue laps the fabric, messy with it, his saliva making the material pathetic underneath the wet muscle. “You want me to show you how a real man eats pussy?”
Suguru and Satoru had eaten pussy, but you swear it was almost like a competition between them, always trying to see who could make you squirt more. While that was hot, not once did Suguru ever do it alone with you, he always had to have Satoru in the room, even if he was jerking off in the corner.
You were all for a show but now being just with Toji felt so intimate, you don’t even know him but somehow you have no problem spreading your thighs, arching against his hungry mouth and whining out. He moans against you, his long, thick fingers sinking into your thighs, hands so big they damn near take you over as he spreads you wide.
He tugs those panties to the side, exposing your soaking wet cunt to the cool air of your room, licking his scar and then dragging it across his lower lip, laughing softly. “Oh fuck, look at this pretty pussy.”
“You’re like… seriously staring,” he chuckles, you lean up on your elbows, hand brushing his hair back. “I can suck you.”
“We’ll get there, don’t be so cock hungry,” you glare now shoving at him just a bit with your foot, he laughs and has the audacity to try to lick your toe.
“You’re so weird!”
“You sleep with twenty plushy freaks, and you fucked Gojo and Geto, you can’t say I’m weird,” you glare now, but he’s shoving your panties down your thighs, you don’t see him shove them in his pocket, smirking against your inner thigh when he shoves them up. “Hold ‘em up, be a good lil’ girl f’me.”
“Good girl,” you swallow now nervously, the way he says that fucks you up completely, your breasts rising and falling, hands gripping his broad shoulders tightly over that thin gym shirt. “Relax, I’ll take good care of ya.”
His first swipe of that tongue along your slit is filthy, flat of it lapping a stripe through a slick that’s already pouring, you gasp out at it, hips bucking up, nails digging in and leaving marks, earning his moan. He laps you from your ass to your clit, over and over, lifting you up and devouring your cunt before you even blink or think, the way he drags your hips down so he can bury his face.
“Soaked, hah… hardly touched ya – slutty lil cunt,” he’s muttering filthy things with his mouth just full of your slick, you’re so tight when you clamp down on his tongue he can hardly get it inside. “Loosen up, brat.”
“How exactly? Hmm?” He nips at your clit and your hips jolt again, a desperate whine escaping your lips.
“Relax those thighs,” he shoves them high, smirking up at you. “Hold ‘em up, just like that, there you go, listening s’good.”
Your hands grip your calves so Toji has even more access to your pussy, his tongue sliding in and out now in the messiest way, it starts to feel so good your eyes roll back, drool spilling from the corners of your mouth. Toji’s relentless with how he works your cunt, the messy strings of saliva and arousal connecting and dissolving while he fucks his tongue in and out of your hole.
“Nghhh! So much,” you’re clinging to his hair, tugging it at the roots, trying to keep open for his hungry mouth, he leans back and spits on your cute little clit, swirling it with his thumb and grinning.
“Look at ya,” he smacks your cunt loud, with a messy thwack, spitting on her as he leans up, a long trail of bubbly spit coating her again, pushing the spit soaked mess around with two fingers and guiding in. “You can stretch out f’me, can’t ya?”
You’re trembling, he leans up over you, opening your mouth with his thumb, chuckling again when his fingers hit that sweet spot and he watches your pretty eyes roll back. Your moan is loud, the way his thick fingers feel is too much – they’re rough and calloused, nothing like you felt before with your ex, you feel every abrasion left on his mean fingers, every ridge and line of them snug in your walls.
“So tiny, how are ya gonna take me?” He taunts, but he’s leaking so much it hurts, dying to feel that stretch when he sinks in for the first time, his fingers curving with a mean precision. “There’s the spot, yeah?”
You can only nod and whimper in response, thighs trembling as he works you open with those thick fingers, his rough thumb from his other hand coming down to rub pretty little patterns on your clit. The dual sensations and his lips kissing yours is too much, your nails are pressing into his biceps, pleasure rushing through you higher and higher until you’re gasping.
“T-Toji…”
God how you say his name, so pretty, your lashes fluttering – if only you knew just how often he’d seen you before, with the dumb twink and the pretty boy, dying to snatch you away. Toji would keep that to himself – for now – and get you cumming so much you’re dumb, have you drooling and squirting just for him. He’s been jerking it to you for so long.
He will absolutely be drinking your cunt off your slutty thong when he’s back home tonight.
"Look at you, already falling apart and I haven't even fucked you yet," he smirks now, pressing that thumb and pushing a little harder, fingers scissoring in and out of that syrupy mess. “I’ll fuck you so dumb you’ll babble, fuck every thought from that pretty head of yours.”
"Please," you manage to gasp out, hips rocking against his hand. "Toji, please do it, f-fuck..."
“Of course I will,” he moans and kisses you, drinking up your desperate little whines, swallowing them down his throat. "I’ll fuck your pretty lil head up, go ahead and cum, lemme feel it.”
One more push of his fingers has you gushing, clamping down on his fingers like a vise, Toji groans as he watches the arousal pour and drown his hand, fingers soaked to the knuckle where they’re buried. He fingers you through it and into another, the pressure so much you’re dizzy.
He exhales, yanking the fingers out and rubbing your clit again, until you can’t see you cum so hard, squirting for the first time. “Is this all for me?”
You can’t answer, can’t think when he’s bringing those fingers to his mouth to taste your arousal, tongue swirling around the thick digits, lips wrapped as his tongue slips between them. You’re dazed now, pupils blown out, thighs shaking as the cool air hits your messy, overheated cunt.
Toji leans up and your hands slip up underneath his shirt, your lips opening and closing. “Need something?”
“Your cock,” your words make him moan, kissing you messy, desperate for a moment, he loves to be in control but your cute little whines are ruining him.
“How do we ask?”
“Please,” he smirks and presses another kiss before he stands up, stripping off his thin shirt to reveal a strong chest, thick broad shoulders with those corded muscles, making your eyes widen.
“Like something?” He’s cocky, his brow raised as your eyes drink him in, leaning up on your elbows. His entire torso is covered in scars, a few tattoos along his ribs that your fingers dance across, watching his muscles flex.
“Toji, what do you do for work exactly?” You ask then, he just grins, slipping off his pants now. Your eyes widen at the sight of him – he’s so thick and heavy, that reddened tip already leaking strings of precum. So heavy his cock doesn’t even smack his belly button or that thick patch of black hair, it just hangs there.
“We’re talking about my job right now? That really what you wanna know,” he tugs you up by your hair, making your cunt throb. “Pretty little girl, didn’t you say you wanted to suck me?”
“I do,” you’re eager when he wraps his hand around your throat, tilting your chin up so your head falls back.
“Say ‘daddy please’.”
You scoff, shaking your head. “No way, they tried to get me to say it and…”
Toji strokes his cock in front of you, lips curving up so his scar stretches ever so slightly. “Am I them, doll?”
You swallow, mouth salivating at the sight of his veiny cock, that’s impossibly bigger than before. Could you suck him, would your mouth stretch around that girth?
“No,” you answer, biting down on your lower lip.
“Hands on your thighs, get on your knees like a good girl,” you eagerly listen, kneeling on the bed. “Wanna see you take me down that tight little throat, watch you choke on it.”
You whine out, leaning forward to try to lick him, only for him to grip your throat more firmly, choking you. “Toji…”
“How do we ask?” You sigh, rolling your eyes.
“I’ll only say it once,” Toji grins. Sure, only once. “Daddy please.”
“Fuck,” he exhales at that, hand slipping to the hair at the nape of your neck and pulling, his other hand slapping his heavy cock against your outstretched tongue. “Good girl, show me what you can do, let’s see how much you can take.”
You suck him so good Toji gets sensitive, pretty mouth swallowing his cock so well he’s mad anyone taught you – especially those dumb fucks you were with. Your lips wrap him as you suck, bobbing your head up and down his slick length, the sounds of him fucking your throat loud and wet. His cock twitches when he looks at your pretty eyes, sighing and lost in them for a moment.
“Such a pretty girl,” he murmurs, Toji is usually gruff, but he can’t help but feel like praising you, like being sweet – just a bit. “Suckin’ me like that? Take all of it, there you go.”
You do just that, throat constricting and fluttering around his thick, girthy cock, his pre decorating your uvula, making you gag around him and moan softly. Your nose brushes that dark pubic hair, musky scent filling your nostrils, he’s murmuring the filthiest praises when he fucks your throat, tugging at your hair and making your eyes tear up.
Toji’s fucking your throat deeper, pelvis snapping with his thrusts, hitting the back of it so that you’re choking, quivering around him and milking him with every movement. Pretty eyes tearing up just so, sniffling as he fucks it, until you’ve got him too damn close, he’s already throbbing and thickening.
“F-fuck… not gonna cum like this,” he yanks you off too soon with a messy pop, throwing you back down your bed as he stands, spreading your thighs and dragging your cunt to him. “Want it?”
“Y-yes,” he chuckles and gently smacks your tits, one then the other, leaning over as he positions himself between your legs, running the fat, spit soaked head along your slit.
“Yes what?”
“Yes daddy - ngh!”
Toji slides his cock in, you hiss at the stretch, he’s so thick you feel the burn of skin, the pressure as he moves deeper, moaning and making you clench. “Gonna stretch this little pussy out, make her know my shape.”
“Please, ah!” Toji slides his cock inside, bottoming out, so deep you can see the bulge of him when he moves achingly slow. “Shit, too much! M’too full!”
“Nah, you can take me,” he exhales, almost gently fucking you at first, letting you adjust to his shape. “That’s it, bein’ such a good girl f’me.”
You’re whining out when he begins to move, muscles flexing underneath your nails as they dig in, cock wrecking your insides with every drag. Toji’s thrusts are hard and deep, but his words and the way he moves his hands over your body are too much, praise hitting you hard as he eyes the bulge in your pelvis.
“Look at her – hah – like she’s made for it,” the praise and his hand pressing on your tummy has you over the edge, gasping desperately as he works his cock in and out of your messy cunt. “That’s it, f-fuck… good girl, good girl, gonna fuck you dumb, huh? No thoughts in your pretty head.”
He shoves your thighs up now, dragging your hips closer, slamming your puffy cervix with mean thrusts, and soon you can’t talk, just babbling as he slams his cock in mean thrusts, cock bullying your gummy walls, folding your body damn near in half under his big body. He’s so big everywhere, heavy weight pressing as he leans over, fingers digging into the meat of your thighs that give under his touch.
"Can't even talk now, can you? Fucked you stupid already," he thrusts inside your now slick, messy hole with an obscene squelch as you babble uselessly.
“Ngh…” That’s all you manage, nails pressing helplessly into his biceps, he groans softly, his breath ghosting over your lips.
"Gonna ruin you for anyone else,” he huffs, desperately pounding your needy cunt and pressing deep, curving just so until you shatter. “That’s it, babbling like a dumb little baby.”
Weak little whines escape your throat, Toji calling you baby is fucking up your fuzzy brain.
“That's it baby, go ahead and cum, lemme feel it, all over this cock, huh?”
His words are insane, but his touch is surprisingly gentle as he brushes a stray strand of hair from your sweat slicked forehead as your orgasm hits you, the contrast of his strength and sweetness are overwhelming. You’ve never been fucked like this, handled like this, the way he works you, kissing you and then spitting on your mouth, smacking then caressing.
“Cum in me… please, inside,” you whisper all breathy when you feel him pulsing in your hole, Toji moans, eyes black and feral, sliding almost completely out of your messy hole before shoving back in fully.
“Cum in your tight lil’ cunt, hmm? Want all saddy’s cum pouring from your messy hole?” You nod, eagerly, whimpering as he picks up his pace again, nails pressing into his biceps as he hovers over you, leaving marks.
“Please… cum in me…” Toji pauses, smirking now, and you sigh, biting down on your lower lip. “Please cum inside, daddy.”
“Fuck, i’ll give it all to you,” he knows he’s lost then, when his huge cock is shooting white hot cum, endless streams of it coating your quivering walls, deep in your pussy. “Takin’ all of it, f-fuck you’re perfect, perfect slutty little girl.”
Toji busts hot white ropes, filling your cunt up so full, pressing a cute kiss on your cheek, smiling against your skin. “F-fuck…”
“You on something?” He asks when he pulls out, looking at the slutty mess between your thighs, fingering it and watching you jerk.
“Mmm, yeah, sensitive…” You kick at him again, he just shoves two fingers deep, eyes rushing across your skin. “What are you doing?”
“I need another kid, stop taking em.”
“We just met!?”
Toji grins down at you. “What’s a better birthday gift than having my babies, huh?”
Did you just trade two psychos for an even more psychotic man?
You should think of that, but when he bends you over and fucks his cum back inside you, when he has to carry you to the shower and clean you up, and fucks more cum inside? You are just too fucked out to care.
author note: I’m down bad for Obi, so naturally I would make it that he’s down bad for you. @rahuratna, @radish-breath, @valleyofwater and I were thirsting hard in the server (JOIN HERE!!) so please enjoy what came of it. I did this while baking so I apologize if it’s rushed at the end yikes.
rating: nsfw/18+/mdni - heavy on the mdni
word count: 2,800 ish
warnings: raw sex (wrap it irl), cunnilingus, I like the word cock a lot, horny obi
@steviebbboi for the banner. thank you ꨄ︎
Akitaru Obi was down BAD for you and desperate for another interaction. Every fleeting touch, every waft of your scent, eavesdropping on every conversation when he was in your vicinity just to satiate his auralism for the time being left him needing more. Don’t get him wrong, he wasn’t necessarily obsessed. Obi would never do anything to hurt you, in fact he wanted to do just the opposite.
He wanted to hear your pretty purrs when his hand dipped underneath your pants and his thick, rough fingers slipped between your slick folds. Wanted to feel how soft and velvety your mouth was wrapped around his cock. Needed to hear his name fall from your lips as he bottomed out inside of you, feeling you claw against his back as he folded your body in half so he could watch every expression that he elicited.
It’s not like you were a stranger to him and that almost made it worse for Obi. You didn't withhold from touching him, letting your hand graze the muscles on his arm every time you spoke. He wanted so badly to forgo the whole dating process and make you his carnally, but alas he was a gentleman. He knew what you deserved and he’d be damned if he didn’t give you the world, he just didn’t know where to start.
On the other hand, you thought you had made it pretty obvious to the Captain how much you liked him. You tried to make sure you excessively touched him, laughed while twirling your hair at almost everything he said and told him how funny he was any time he came in. It felt hopeless though because he just did not seem to pick up on any hints you were dropping.
You knew the Special Fire Forces worked dangerous jobs, but you saw Obi more than anyone. It seemed like almost every week he was coming in for new personal protective equipment because one of his had been damaged or lost.
The large man walked in sporting his orange jumpsuit, tied at his waist with a tight black shirt clinging to his form. “Good morning, Ms. y/l/n! My shield was damaged in the fight in town square last night so I figured I’d come down and get a new one.” He said with a glint in his eye. You looked up from the paperwork you were filling out and gave him a smile, “Sure thing Captain Obi. Go ahead and leave it at the front desk and I’ll send the new one with Lieutenant Hinawa when he comes in for the fit testing for your uniforms.”
He waved his hand at you while chuckling, “Stop with the formalities! Call me Akitaru.” You felt the twinge in your core, “You know, since I’m here we might as well do the fit testing! Save yourself and Takehisa some time.” He said sporting a big, cheesy smile with his hands on his hips.
Narrowing your eyes at him, you pushed the paperwork aside while smirking. “I suppose that’d be a wise decision, and I can’t tell the Captain no can I?” Obi let out a laugh. “No you cannot!”
As you came around your desk, Obi took note of the slim black pencil skirt hugging your curves, a tight white button up top adorning your torso. He turned with you towards your door and felt your finger tips brush against his upper arm, “You know where to go so I’ll let you lead the way, Akitaru.” His brain felt like it was going to short circuit between hearing his name fall from your lips, feeling your fingers against his hot skin and seeing your plump body accentuated by your formal attire.
“Oh- I- uh. Yeah, Yeah of course.” He stuttered before leading the way towards the PPE fitting room.
His breath was hot on the inside of his suit, his dick straining against his underwear after you so intimately watched him get changed out of his jumpsuit and into his infernal fighting suit. Of course it was just for safety purposes. You know, to make sure the fabric didn’t rip or anything in the process.. Totally not to watch his muscular appendages flex without anything to hinder the view.
Durability tests were performed to ensure the integrity of the suit during combat, then came the final fit check to guarantee the suit fit accurately to his body. You couldn’t do this with everyone's suits, but considering they submitted their measurements monthly to accommodate for physique changes you could allow for single suit fit checks every 6 months or so. Luckily for Captain Obi, he got to be the model this time.
After instructing him to T pose with his legs spread, you began checking the crevasses of his under arms to certify there were no tears or significant gaps between the fabric and skin. Obi felt his cheeks heat up when he suddenly realized where else you would have to check; his groin.
You pulled away and gave him an awkward smile, “So, the next part… I kind of have to check,” you pointed downward, “in your uh.. Nether regions.”
Thank Sol his helmet and mask were covering him and you couldn’t watch his cheeks flush further. He cleared his throat and did his best to sound calm and collected though he was quite the opposite, “Y-yeah of course! Gotta make sure the suit is up to par. N- no problem there, Ms. y/l/n.”
You rolled your eyes and smiled for real, “You’re up my ass about formalities but you’re still calling me that? You know my first name is y/n so please feel free to call me by it.”
He nodded behind the helmet and mask, “Sounds good, y/n.” And oh did you feel like your knees were going to give out.
When you crouched down to begin performing the inspection, Obi’s dick strained once again against his underwear. He wasn’t a man who prayed often, but right now he was praying hard that whatever being was out there would make sure you didn’t see or feel his rock hard erection for you. His prayers must have been heard because you didn't hesitate or stutter a single time. Little did he know, you were doing your best to avoid letting your excitement run down your thighs.
Akitaru Obi was a man who had a fairly large rapport with those around him, and seemingly an even larger stature and personality. At a whopping 6’2” tall and 238lbs in weight, he was far taller than your small height. You didn’t weigh too much less than him and you wondered if he was into plumper women, and if he was you pondered how he handled them. His hands and his feet were substantial, it made you fascinated with the concept that his member was just as sizable.
He snapped you out of it, literally, but humorously by snapping in your face. “Hey space cadet, I was wondering if you were free tonight. There’s a bar that does covers of different rock songs Wednesday nights. I know it’s mid week and you totally don’t have to but I think it would be fun!’
You squinted and jabbed your finger into his chest, “Is Akitaru Obi asking me out on a date perhaps?” He smiled at you and lowered his head to meet your line of sight better, “Perhaps I am, if she wants to go out with me?”
There was a moment of silence before you bit your lip and spoke, which didn’t go unnoticed by him. “I would love to. Can you pick me up at eight?”
-
A little black cocktail dress may have been a little presumptuous for the occasion, but that obviously didn’t matter when you opened the door to his heart eyes looking you up and down.
He was dressed in black jeans, with a blue button up with sleeves rolled up that hugged his arms, how yummy.
You opened the door and offered for him to come into your quaint little apartment, taking a mental image of how well those pants hugged his ass.
Your walls littered with certificates and achievements from Tokyo’s Health Organization. The entertainment center that sat below your tv on the far side of the room was covered in pictures of you and your family members throughout the years.
Obi paused to admire them while you put on your shoes, “Wow, looks like there’s a lot of love behind these photos.” You smiled gently while adjusting the straps, “Yeah, lots of love and laughter. Kind of cheesy but my moms favorite quote is, ‘Live, Laugh, Love.’ I hated it growing up, it felt so cringy to say but the older I’ve gotten the more I’ve come to admire it.”
You stood up straight and smoothed your dress. “How does it look? Is it too much?”
He came face to face with you, his lips inches from yours and you could feel him hesitate. “No, I think you’re perfect. And I mean that wholeheartedly.” He didn’t want to sabotage the night. He genuinely wanted to take you out and listen to music, have some drinks, enjoy your company but he felt this lewd desire to keep you to himself tonight. He wanted to be the first and only person this evening to see you in this dress.
As Obi’s thoughts tumbled on, you softly pressed your lips to his. As he closed his eyes he could have sworn he saw fireworks. Grabbing the side of your face with one hand, and pressing your lower body into his with the other he deepened the kiss. Sliding his tongue against your lips, begging for you to allow him entrance.
When you obliged he felt his already hardened cock twitch with desire. “I- I can’t y/n.” he gasped as he pulled away from you before kissing you again, “I need you. I can’t wait anymore. I’ve thought about you, fantasized about you for months.. Please just let me make you mine.” “I’m yours, all yours.” You moaned as he began to trail kisses down your neck.
Akitaru was a man of taste, he would never leave hickeys or bite marks where someone could see them, so of course he followed the ‘collarbone and below’ rule. However, that did mean that whatever skin wasn’t visible with clothes on was game for him to do whatever, and oh was he going to.
Dropping to his knees, he ascended to your chest and began to nip and suck for just a moment before dipping below your bra and attaching his lips to one of your nipples. He swirled his tongue over the nub while simultaneously pinching and twisting the other. Your head flew back and you grabbed a handful of his hair, “A-akitaruuuu please. Can we please go to my room?”
Naturally, he picked you up in a firefighter style, “Where to miss?” You giggled as you slapped his ass, “Third door on your right!”
He gently set you on your feet in front of your bed before initiating another heated makeout session. However, when his hands began to wander this time he was slipping your straps down your arms and between kisses asked you, “Are you sure this is okay? I don’t want to move too fast.” You shook your head, “Never too fast. I’ve needed you for so long too.”
That was all he needed to hear from you before he was pushing the dress past your waist and hips as well, leaving you in the strategically matching bright red lacey panties and bra. “All this for me huh?” “Well of course.. I was hoping that at some point I would get lucky tonight” You winked.
Obi groaned as he cupped your tits and unclasped the back. Pushing you backward until your the backs of your knees hit the bed and you were forced to sit, he began groping and kneading your plush thighs. “Can’t decide if my favorite thing tonight is going to be tasting your pussy or getting to shove my cock inside of you.” You gasped at his words as you fell back onto your elbows.
He unbuttoned both his shirt and pants and threw them aimlessly somewhere in the room before making a show of pulling his boxers down, letting his cock spring free and slap his stomach. Your eyes widened as you realized that your assumptions about his length were true. Not only was he a good long but he was deliciously thick.
The wait for him was agonizing as he pulled your panties from your core and down your legs. There was a strand of slick connecting you to them and he let out a deep moan thinking about how sweet you must taste.
He parted your legs and kissed from your knee down to where you needed him most, savoring every little noise you made. He proceeded to lick a stripe from your slit to your clit before attaching his mouth to your little bundle. Swapping between licking and sucking, moving between clit and your sopping cunt he spent close to an hour edging you. Watching you intently, listening closely and pulling away just as your chest began to heave and your words became incoherent.
He just wanted to savour your taste and feed his auralism. I mean, could you blame the guy when you sounded so needy and desperate?
“Please. Please let me c-cum. I can’t handle it a-anymore.” You managed to gasp out, “Need to cum so I-I can have your cock.”
You felt him smirk against you as he hoisted your legs up and dove straight in. He made quick work with his tongue against your sensitive bundle. As you went to grab his hard you looked down to find him watching you and that was it. The coil in your stomach popped as your orgasm came crashing over you.
Kitten licking you gently to prolong your orgasm, but making sure to stop when signalled to avoid causing you any pain from overstimulation.
He crawled up your body, kissing and nipping as he went until he was face to face with you. Lowering himself, he connected his lips with yours and pushed his tongue in your mouth to make you taste yourself, “Delicious, aren’t you?”
He then sat up and spat on his hand before rubbing it up and down his length a few times. Leaning back over you he whispered in his ear, “Gonna stretch your cunt out and ruin you for anyone else.” You gasped and with those words he reached between your legs and spread your folds. He eased his tip into you, resting his elbows on either side of your head and caging you in. The stretch was tantalizing and erotic, both of you moaning, groaning, and gasping together in unison.
You wiggled your bottom to signal you were ready for him to move and he chuckled in your ear, letting his lips graze the shell of it. “Greedy girl huh?” “Mmmm… yess”
It felt neverending as he just kept inching himself in, you swore you were going to split in half from his size. You felt wonderfully full when he bottomed out and let out a lewd groan into your ear.
Another coil began to twist as he began a damn near ruthless pace, ensuring he bottomed out every single time. He dragged one of his hands down your body to find a perch on your hip and pin you down into the bed.
“Come on baby, give me another one before I fill your pretty pussy up.”
Oh he swears he saw the heavens split open when he felt you tighten and spasm around him, letting the cutest and sweetest whimper while digging your nails into his back.
He felt himself getting closer, and his pace became sloppy to mirror it. Pushing himself up onto his hands to watch you, he grabbed your face and kissed you passionately, dirty and hungry. It was teeth clashing, tongues sliding against one another and he could tell you were giving him all you had for that kiss.
The damn broke in his mind and he fell over the edge, spilling himself into your gummy walls.
Sweaty and panting he fell forward onto his elbows once, giving you a big grin. “I think this is the best way I could have possibly finished my day. Literally, ha!”
You rolled your eyes and squished his cheeks between one of your small hands and kissed him, “You’re such an idiot sometimes.. I love it.”
Featuring: Hibino Kafka's Shirt, Ashiro Mina's Stockings, Hoshina Soshiro's Belt and Narumi Gen's Sweatpants.
(POV: Their clothes 😏)
Kafka: The Shirt
He pulls me on haphazardly, eyes fixed on the muted TV in his apartment. Toast crumbs dust the front of me, brushed off with the broad, warm expanse of his palm.
He does that often, unconsciously.
Hibino Kafka isn't a messy eater, but he is a haphazard one.
Today, he's heading back to base after packing up the place and gathering his belongings.
His apartment isn't large, but he takes his time.
I've felt the changes to his body over time, softer edges ironed out by hours of hard activity.
Kafka has always been sturdy, his broad shoulders pushing against the edges of my ability to contain. The swell of biceps tug at the seams of the sleeves, even now as he rummages through articles in his closet.
His stomach used to stretch against my fabric at one time, a softer, more easily contained resistance. The coarse black hair scattered across his chest, the strip that continues down his stomach, to the realm beyond my knowledge, always rough against me.
My plain white colour and simple fabric work both for and against me, when it comes to Kafka.
He picks up stains easily.
The heft of him brushes up against surfaces, catches traces of dust, grease and damp.
During training, however, he sweats through my breathable weave, translucent patches growing downwards from the forest of his armpits and across the expanse of his chest.
He lifts my hem at times, to wipe off the area above his upper lip, the stray coarseness of his goatee catching at me on the way down.
When he pulls me off now, I slip easily over the hardening ripple where his gut used to reign, catching on the increased width of his shoulders. The dip of his back has also become more pronounced, lean lines carved there from the repetitive actions of training.
He crumples me into a loose ball before discarding me in the laundry. There are sweaty garments from a dozen other soldiers here, but I retain his scent, the essence of him that stays strong, along with the faint, pleasant musky notes of his cologne.
His breathing has grown less laboured with each passing month, the heave of his powerful lungs less pronounced.
He used to smoke, too. Enough that he had to give it up.
I used to smell like that once, of tobacco, hard labour and the faint trace of soy sauce he'd wiped off on my hem.
Now, his body runs clean, thrumming with vitality and warmth, and something alien beneath.
I've noticed. Of course I have.
When he turns, something odd happens to me.
I seem to meld with the fabric of his own body, with flesh, bone, the pulse of living organs beneath.
He wears me like one of the high-tech suits I could never dream of being.
His skin is harder than rock, his flesh reptilian, powerful protrusions of bone jutting where they shouldn't.
I hold my teetering threads together and weather the storm, which inevitably fades.
Kafka tends me carefully, and wears me with careless joy.
I could be torn to shreds during his next headlong descent into danger, but that's part and parcel of being his.
This is where I belong, on the frontlines, girding the torso that rolls and shifts beneath me, absorbing the steady heat he produces from some inner furnace.
Kafka wears me most often, a simple white t-shirt.
I am the colour of surrender, but when I reflect the gleam of his teeth, I glow as brilliantly as a bone-clad face beneath the sun.
Mina: Stockings
She doesn't wear me often, only on those occasions that demand pressing formality, the glare of lights focused on a stage that she commands.
I don't blame her.
I'm not meant for combat, for the rush, the heat, the tear and crush of the battlefield. I am a tool that she has minimal use for.
Most times, I'm washed and folded neatly in one of her wooden drawers. I can hear the rustle of her hands passing through the identical jackets and uniforms that adorn the railings above.
Sometimes, however, my enclosure swings open, and she unfolds me with a dexterous, practiced flick of her wrist.
This is how she always moves; economical, precise, no motion wasted.
If she doesn't like wearing me, she shows no sign of it. Her face remains impassive as she stretches me open, rolling me over the arch of her foot, a small tuck beneath the heel.
Ashiro Mina's body tells the tale of her exploits.
They aren't always visible to others, but I can feel the catch of the calluses on her palms from long hours on the shooting range, the faint raised scars across the outside of her left ankle where a flailing kaiju had once sent debris flying in her direction.
As she slides me further up the smooth expanse of her leg, the dark nylon takes in other, smaller tells, like the little hardened nodules beneath skin, contusions from old injuries that solidified over time.
She brings me up to the slightly yielding flesh of her thigh, giving one precise tug before repeating the process with my other half.
I come in a pair, you see.
Together, we accompany her to the area before the door, where she retrieves her boots.
Mina's stride is steady and measured through the echoing corridors of the base, her posture impeccable.
I slide and shift against her skin, against the flex of her calves as she mounts stairs, against the sharp rise of her knees, against the slow roll of power that briefly tautens the line of her inner thigh.
She smells of freesia and almond oil extract, clean and brisk as an ocean breeze.
The rustle of her uniform stills slightly as she approaches the audience hall and slows down. She never breaks stride, or pauses before she enters.
Mina is long accustomed to the mantle of leadership.
The new recruits are arrayed before her for their induction ceremony, eyes on level with her knees as she makes her way to the podium before them.
Mina is fairly tall, and has never needed a stage to exert her presence, but the lean length of her legs sheathed in professional black serves as a stark reminder of her authority, her role, fixing in the mind the strength of the sword and shield she speaks of.
Then he bursts into the room, muttering apologies for the disruption, and for a single moment her standing posture stiffens.
It isn't the reflex of fear or anger, more a subtle sign of recognition of something that she had once thought lost.
The muscles beneath me tighten, then ease into a form more relaxed than before. She gives a calm reprimand and punishment before turning swiftly and striding from the stage.
Away from the bright lights, in the cool corridor outside, she pauses unexpectedly.
One foot raises, the front of the boot rubbing against the back of her other leg. I feel the smooth leather against her calf, half reassuring, a strangely girlish, half-forgotten gesture.
The boot meets the floor again with harsh click before she straightens once again, her stride evening out to something more familiar.
It's not often that Captain Mina Ashiro chooses to wear me, but when she does, it's with no less authority than her combat suit.
Hoshina: The Belt
It's been years since he first purchased me.
Like everything else he owns, Hoshina Soshiro takes good care of his possessions, even the ones reaching the end of their shelf life.
My leather has been worn smooth, the metal of my buckle painstakingly polished, but bearing signs of wear all the same.
It's not that he can't afford to replace me. He can, and easily. He just chooses not to, because I've grown comfortable.
I sit on the grooves of his waist as if I've been molded to them.
Soshiro's closet is organised and as neatly kept as the rest of his apartment. He cleans with military efficiency, the kind of routine that has been ingrained from an early age, only interrupted at times with the careless sling of his jacket over a chair after a long day, or the rare smudge of chestnut cream he leaves on the counter after indulging in his favourite dessert.
He dresses with the same minimal fuss, his movements intentional and graceful.
I hang on a railing within the closet, waiting my turn.
The fitted black shirt he favours for training whispers against skin as he drags it over his head. He draws on the uniform trousers, the correct length, but slightly too baggy around his unusually lean midriff.
His fingers ghost along my length, drawing me from my perch like he does one of his swords.
There are roughened pads along the tips of his fingers, and across the upper portion of his palms, the heel of his hand.
A swordsman's hands, through and through.
Soshiro is deceptively slight in build, the weighted coil of powerful muscle and sinew concealed beneath the baggy uniform jacket on most occasions.
I can feel it as he slides me through the belt loops, the shift and stretch of his flank, the sharp dip of his hipbone, the warmth of his abdomen as I come to a close across the front.
I sometimes wonder what he would do in my absence.
Soshiro moves with ever-shifitng grace, any trace of bulk pared down as if with one of his own swords.
Without me to hold up his trousers, he'd probably walk himself right out of them.
Not a thought that seemingly troubles him, as he raises arms above his head and stretches luxuriously, mouth falling open in a yawn.
His canines gleam in the dim reflection given up by the mirror, and he sighs, pulls on his jacket, straightens his collar and smooths down the sleek, stray locks of hair flicked to the side by the movement of his shirt.
A small furrow forms between his brows and he passes a hand absently across his stomach. The material of the shirt presses into his skin, rustling slightly above me.
I've been with him long enough to know that he's thinking about breakfast and the coffee that awaits him.
Barefoot, he pads through to the kitchenette, pouring himself a cup from the small coffee machine, with a good quantity of milk.
I feel the sigh of satisfaction that resonates through his torso, the hand he places on his hip as the warmth of the drink enlivens him, the slow side-to-side motion of his body as he releases any remaining tension from the night before.
Later in the day, when the jacket is removed, and I find myself facing the empty interior of the training room, I prepare for the most taxing part of my day.
I am lucky that my leather is thick and sturdy, enough so to hold the fabric of his trousers tightly in place as he drops into stretches, limber and lithe as a large cat as he prepares for a training session.
I am doing as much work as he is, as he darts across the floor, arms sweeping in controlled, powerful arcs, blades flashing like the fangs of some beast he holds on a leash.
Soshiro moves far beyond the realm of the ordinary, reaching speeds all the more terrifying for the accuracy he maintains.
Perspiration builds beneath the fabric of his shirt, dampening the waistband of his trousers, reaching my inner surface where the moisture makes my task increasingly difficult.
His body gives off heat like a furnace, quietly burning, sweat flying from the ends of his hair as he spins and lunges.
Each time he sheathes and draws, biceps etched like stone carvings beneath the smooth skin, the blades whip past me with dizzying closeness, so much so that I hear the whisper of their intent, to slice, shear, tear to shreds.
I hold on with dogged determination, even as the bottom of the shirt slips and slides against the iron-clad coil and release of his abdomen, the bunch of his thighs threatening to pull the trousers taut against my grasp.
Soshiro is in a zone where such trivialities are far from his immediate thoughts, concerned only with the ideas of being faster, stronger, more precise, and so I take over these basic needs.
Later still, when all is over, and his cooling sweat dries in paler patches across the surface of his dark shirt, he sips from a bottle of water as he gets ready for his evening bath.
He strips with the same practiced efficiency, the tug of his shirt over the rolling muscle of his shoulders bringing with it the faint scent of the salted musk of his training, the woody cologne now worn to a minute trace, the metallic scent of metal polish that always seems to adorn his hands.
I am drawn from the loops, a cloth passed over me as a concession to my hard labour, before I'm stored carefully away on the railing once again.
The distant sound of falling water through soaked violet hair, reminds me of my purpose.
He holds the weight of this division across his shoulders, always pushing himself to be better for his officers, his captain, the public who he works tirelessly to protect.
So, it's only fitting that I uphold my end of the bargain.
Narumi: Sweatpants
He wears me as he wears everything else, with the kind of careless insolence he displays in manner and speech.
I'm never folded, or put away.
Seldom washed, for that matter.
Not that it counts.
He invariably slings me on when he's still damp from a shower, hanging low on his hips as he towels off his hair and mutters about the pile of paperwork his second in command has left for him.
In winter, he bundles himself up in soft sweaters and thick socks, legs folded beneath him as his fingers tap away at the colourful buttons of his Twitch.
He slurps instant ramen in between sets, eyes barely leaving the screen.
I know better than to assume he isn't aware of his surroundings.
Even when seemingly hyper-focused on the entertainment before him, there is an underlying awareness that permeates every nerve and muscle fibre, the barest sideways movement of his glance, that reveals his unflagging attention to the world around him.
It's probably another reason I barely see the light of day.
He likes to keep to his rooms, where dim interiors and the steady, predictable noise of his games is the only form of stimulation.
Narumi's torso and legs run fairly hot, but his extremities are always freezing, even in the summer.
On hot days, he favours a plain, loose t-shirt, or no shirt at all, a frozen fruit pop lodged between his teeth as he prowls around his office in discontent.
Too hot. Too cold.
His body should make up its mind.
When he pulls me on over his boxers, it's normally with a grunt of satisfaction.
He definitely favours the loose sway of my grey fabric, leaving his long, lean legs fairly free, grasping lightly around the ankles and hips.
Captain Narumi Gen has the build of a man who'd once been lankier, years of hard training widening the breadth of his chest and waist. Even though he has the easy, athletic bearing of one who has never really needed to try to remain in good physical shape, he works harder than most know to maintain his power.
For all his time lazing, he trains in prolonged bursts that often have him out of the office for entire weekends, or on the various missions he undertakes.
It's easy to tell what he's experienced from the marks he carries, bruises across the ribs from blows that managed to reach him, the long, ragged scar that reaches faint, spidery fingers from his sternum down to the right hip.
His back is littered with faint pocks and scars from the earlier days of learning to use his numbers weapon. Kaiju had managed to sneak up on him a fair few times, considering the high risk situations he'd regularly thrown himself into.
When he goes without a shirt, I graze the warm skin above the waistline of his boxers, my ties fastened loosely over where a trail of dark hair descends down the middle of his abdomen. His fingers sometimes thread through them absently on the rare occasion he decides to peruse a report.
Gen Narumi isn't the perfect picture of an exemplary soldier when he's in his office.
His space is cluttered and dark, the den of some feral scavenger, one that's likely to snap and bite as you attempt to drag it away.
When he's not crouched and cross-legged, he likes to spread his legs out, heels against the floor, knees pointing at either wall, while I struggle to conceal the burgeoning outline that defies modesty.
If only he'd invest in better underwear.
Thankfully, his Vice Captain is always present to set him straight, even if I'm subject to the same punishment.
I've lost count of the number of times I've been stretched to my limit as Hasegawa picks him up by my elasticated waist and tosses him at the nearest pile of paperwork.
Or the number of times his boot lands with painful accuracy on Narumi's rear through the thin fabric.
I'm especially thankful for these interventions when he's been lax with doing laundry, and has wiped off his greasy fingers on me one too many times to be considered sanitary.
On rare occasions, he wears me outdoors when he's making a discreet trip to the seven eleven or one of the many hobby shops he frequents, hood drawn tight over his distinctive hair.
I graze the tops of his sneakers, settling into a swaying motion as those long legs eat up the distance with their sweeping stride.
Whenever he sees someone he potentially knows, especially the Vice Captain with the violet hair, he slows his pace to an ungainly shuffle, hoping that he won't be recognised.
He seldom goes unnoticed.
He returns in a foul mood, hands lodged in tight fists in my pockets, the shopping bags knocking violently against his legs.
When he isn't wearing me, Captain Narumi Gen doesn't put me away in a place where I couldn't easily be found.
I'm always cast over some surface in clear sight, for when he needs my services again.
I am but a simple pair of grey sweatpants, but I'm a regular part of his routine, a comfort he always acknowledges and never takes for granted.
Narumi Gen has long done away with the old him, the one that sought the approval of others, but it doesn't mean that the tension or pressure that comes with his position isn't present, or felt.
He has big boots to fill, and nobody knows this better than he does.
For all the times that he places those heavy expectations on himself, demands more and better of his own body, pushing himself to his limits, I am there to cocoon him in the comfort of the familiar, one he can always return to.
Shipping characters becomes obsolete when you realize you can just ship yourself with them yeah sorry I don't ship any of this other than me and the character making out sloppy
1 thing about me is that I do not "queue." I do not "post later," I do not "schedule," I do not "scheme," I do not "plan," I do not "evenly distribute my posts," I LIVEPOST. and if they get lost in the mix, I do not care
I present to you: ADOLLA THIRST! A multi fandom discord server.
Join HERE!
This is my hard launch with @rahuratna for our server and I couldn't be more excited!! Our shared love for Fire Force led us to starting this and we figured, why not make it multi fandom and let the thirsting for 2d characters bring us together as a community??
This is a server geared towards fun fandom interactions, to gush over your faves, share you art, writing, mood boards, poetry, and any other form of creativity!
With SFW and NSFW thirst and promo chats to fit your fancy.
COME ONE COME ALL!! Our invite link is open invitation, feel free to send it to any and all of your friends who love anime. We are actively taking suggestions for animes to add and things to make better!
"Now my job is to help the next generation, and set a good example for them. And for that I'll gladly lay down my life, and I'll be smiling the whole time. It's what makes us old guys cool, you see."
author note: I’m down bad for Obi, so naturally I would make it that he’s down bad for you. @rahuratna, @radish-breath, @valleyofwater and I were thirsting hard in the server (JOIN HERE!!) so please enjoy what came of it. I did this while baking so I apologize if it’s rushed at the end yikes.
rating: nsfw/18+/mdni - heavy on the mdni
word count: 2,800 ish
warnings: raw sex (wrap it irl), cunnilingus, I like the word cock a lot, horny obi
@steviebbboi for the banner. thank you ꨄ︎
Akitaru Obi was down BAD for you and desperate for another interaction. Every fleeting touch, every waft of your scent, eavesdropping on every conversation when he was in your vicinity just to satiate his auralism for the time being left him needing more. Don’t get him wrong, he wasn’t necessarily obsessed. Obi would never do anything to hurt you, in fact he wanted to do just the opposite.
He wanted to hear your pretty purrs when his hand dipped underneath your pants and his thick, rough fingers slipped between your slick folds. Wanted to feel how soft and velvety your mouth was wrapped around his cock. Needed to hear his name fall from your lips as he bottomed out inside of you, feeling you claw against his back as he folded your body in half so he could watch every expression that he elicited.
It’s not like you were a stranger to him and that almost made it worse for Obi. You didn't withhold from touching him, letting your hand graze the muscles on his arm every time you spoke. He wanted so badly to forgo the whole dating process and make you his carnally, but alas he was a gentleman. He knew what you deserved and he’d be damned if he didn’t give you the world, he just didn’t know where to start.
On the other hand, you thought you had made it pretty obvious to the Captain how much you liked him. You tried to make sure you excessively touched him, laughed while twirling your hair at almost everything he said and told him how funny he was any time he came in. It felt hopeless though because he just did not seem to pick up on any hints you were dropping.
You knew the Special Fire Forces worked dangerous jobs, but you saw Obi more than anyone. It seemed like almost every week he was coming in for new personal protective equipment because one of his had been damaged or lost.
The large man walked in sporting his orange jumpsuit, tied at his waist with a tight black shirt clinging to his form. “Good morning, Ms. y/l/n! My shield was damaged in the fight in town square last night so I figured I’d come down and get a new one.” He said with a glint in his eye. You looked up from the paperwork you were filling out and gave him a smile, “Sure thing Captain Obi. Go ahead and leave it at the front desk and I’ll send the new one with Lieutenant Hinawa when he comes in for the fit testing for your uniforms.”
He waved his hand at you while chuckling, “Stop with the formalities! Call me Akitaru.” You felt the twinge in your core, “You know, since I’m here we might as well do the fit testing! Save yourself and Takehisa some time.” He said sporting a big, cheesy smile with his hands on his hips.
Narrowing your eyes at him, you pushed the paperwork aside while smirking. “I suppose that’d be a wise decision, and I can’t tell the Captain no can I?” Obi let out a laugh. “No you cannot!”
As you came around your desk, Obi took note of the slim black pencil skirt hugging your curves, a tight white button up top adorning your torso. He turned with you towards your door and felt your finger tips brush against his upper arm, “You know where to go so I’ll let you lead the way, Akitaru.” His brain felt like it was going to short circuit between hearing his name fall from your lips, feeling your fingers against his hot skin and seeing your plump body accentuated by your formal attire.
“Oh- I- uh. Yeah, Yeah of course.” He stuttered before leading the way towards the PPE fitting room.
His breath was hot on the inside of his suit, his dick straining against his underwear after you so intimately watched him get changed out of his jumpsuit and into his infernal fighting suit. Of course it was just for safety purposes. You know, to make sure the fabric didn’t rip or anything in the process.. Totally not to watch his muscular appendages flex without anything to hinder the view.
Durability tests were performed to ensure the integrity of the suit during combat, then came the final fit check to guarantee the suit fit accurately to his body. You couldn’t do this with everyone's suits, but considering they submitted their measurements monthly to accommodate for physique changes you could allow for single suit fit checks every 6 months or so. Luckily for Captain Obi, he got to be the model this time.
After instructing him to T pose with his legs spread, you began checking the crevasses of his under arms to certify there were no tears or significant gaps between the fabric and skin. Obi felt his cheeks heat up when he suddenly realized where else you would have to check; his groin.
You pulled away and gave him an awkward smile, “So, the next part… I kind of have to check,” you pointed downward, “in your uh.. Nether regions.”
Thank Sol his helmet and mask were covering him and you couldn’t watch his cheeks flush further. He cleared his throat and did his best to sound calm and collected though he was quite the opposite, “Y-yeah of course! Gotta make sure the suit is up to par. N- no problem there, Ms. y/l/n.”
You rolled your eyes and smiled for real, “You’re up my ass about formalities but you’re still calling me that? You know my first name is y/n so please feel free to call me by it.”
He nodded behind the helmet and mask, “Sounds good, y/n.” And oh did you feel like your knees were going to give out.
When you crouched down to begin performing the inspection, Obi’s dick strained once again against his underwear. He wasn’t a man who prayed often, but right now he was praying hard that whatever being was out there would make sure you didn’t see or feel his rock hard erection for you. His prayers must have been heard because you didn't hesitate or stutter a single time. Little did he know, you were doing your best to avoid letting your excitement run down your thighs.
Akitaru Obi was a man who had a fairly large rapport with those around him, and seemingly an even larger stature and personality. At a whopping 6’2” tall and 238lbs in weight, he was far taller than your small height. You didn’t weigh too much less than him and you wondered if he was into plumper women, and if he was you pondered how he handled them. His hands and his feet were substantial, it made you fascinated with the concept that his member was just as sizable.
He snapped you out of it, literally, but humorously by snapping in your face. “Hey space cadet, I was wondering if you were free tonight. There’s a bar that does covers of different rock songs Wednesday nights. I know it’s mid week and you totally don’t have to but I think it would be fun!’
You squinted and jabbed your finger into his chest, “Is Akitaru Obi asking me out on a date perhaps?” He smiled at you and lowered his head to meet your line of sight better, “Perhaps I am, if she wants to go out with me?”
There was a moment of silence before you bit your lip and spoke, which didn’t go unnoticed by him. “I would love to. Can you pick me up at eight?”
-
A little black cocktail dress may have been a little presumptuous for the occasion, but that obviously didn’t matter when you opened the door to his heart eyes looking you up and down.
He was dressed in black jeans, with a blue button up with sleeves rolled up that hugged his arms, how yummy.
You opened the door and offered for him to come into your quaint little apartment, taking a mental image of how well those pants hugged his ass.
Your walls littered with certificates and achievements from Tokyo’s Health Organization. The entertainment center that sat below your tv on the far side of the room was covered in pictures of you and your family members throughout the years.
Obi paused to admire them while you put on your shoes, “Wow, looks like there’s a lot of love behind these photos.” You smiled gently while adjusting the straps, “Yeah, lots of love and laughter. Kind of cheesy but my moms favorite quote is, ‘Live, Laugh, Love.’ I hated it growing up, it felt so cringy to say but the older I’ve gotten the more I’ve come to admire it.”
You stood up straight and smoothed your dress. “How does it look? Is it too much?”
He came face to face with you, his lips inches from yours and you could feel him hesitate. “No, I think you’re perfect. And I mean that wholeheartedly.” He didn’t want to sabotage the night. He genuinely wanted to take you out and listen to music, have some drinks, enjoy your company but he felt this lewd desire to keep you to himself tonight. He wanted to be the first and only person this evening to see you in this dress.
As Obi’s thoughts tumbled on, you softly pressed your lips to his. As he closed his eyes he could have sworn he saw fireworks. Grabbing the side of your face with one hand, and pressing your lower body into his with the other he deepened the kiss. Sliding his tongue against your lips, begging for you to allow him entrance.
When you obliged he felt his already hardened cock twitch with desire. “I- I can’t y/n.” he gasped as he pulled away from you before kissing you again, “I need you. I can’t wait anymore. I’ve thought about you, fantasized about you for months.. Please just let me make you mine.” “I’m yours, all yours.” You moaned as he began to trail kisses down your neck.
Akitaru was a man of taste, he would never leave hickeys or bite marks where someone could see them, so of course he followed the ‘collarbone and below’ rule. However, that did mean that whatever skin wasn’t visible with clothes on was game for him to do whatever, and oh was he going to.
Dropping to his knees, he ascended to your chest and began to nip and suck for just a moment before dipping below your bra and attaching his lips to one of your nipples. He swirled his tongue over the nub while simultaneously pinching and twisting the other. Your head flew back and you grabbed a handful of his hair, “A-akitaruuuu please. Can we please go to my room?”
Naturally, he picked you up in a firefighter style, “Where to miss?” You giggled as you slapped his ass, “Third door on your right!”
He gently set you on your feet in front of your bed before initiating another heated makeout session. However, when his hands began to wander this time he was slipping your straps down your arms and between kisses asked you, “Are you sure this is okay? I don’t want to move too fast.” You shook your head, “Never too fast. I’ve needed you for so long too.”
That was all he needed to hear from you before he was pushing the dress past your waist and hips as well, leaving you in the strategically matching bright red lacey panties and bra. “All this for me huh?” “Well of course.. I was hoping that at some point I would get lucky tonight” You winked.
Obi groaned as he cupped your tits and unclasped the back. Pushing you backward until your the backs of your knees hit the bed and you were forced to sit, he began groping and kneading your plush thighs. “Can’t decide if my favorite thing tonight is going to be tasting your pussy or getting to shove my cock inside of you.” You gasped at his words as you fell back onto your elbows.
He unbuttoned both his shirt and pants and threw them aimlessly somewhere in the room before making a show of pulling his boxers down, letting his cock spring free and slap his stomach. Your eyes widened as you realized that your assumptions about his length were true. Not only was he a good long but he was deliciously thick.
The wait for him was agonizing as he pulled your panties from your core and down your legs. There was a strand of slick connecting you to them and he let out a deep moan thinking about how sweet you must taste.
He parted your legs and kissed from your knee down to where you needed him most, savoring every little noise you made. He proceeded to lick a stripe from your slit to your clit before attaching his mouth to your little bundle. Swapping between licking and sucking, moving between clit and your sopping cunt he spent close to an hour edging you. Watching you intently, listening closely and pulling away just as your chest began to heave and your words became incoherent.
He just wanted to savour your taste and feed his auralism. I mean, could you blame the guy when you sounded so needy and desperate?
“Please. Please let me c-cum. I can’t handle it a-anymore.” You managed to gasp out, “Need to cum so I-I can have your cock.”
You felt him smirk against you as he hoisted your legs up and dove straight in. He made quick work with his tongue against your sensitive bundle. As you went to grab his hard you looked down to find him watching you and that was it. The coil in your stomach popped as your orgasm came crashing over you.
Kitten licking you gently to prolong your orgasm, but making sure to stop when signalled to avoid causing you any pain from overstimulation.
He crawled up your body, kissing and nipping as he went until he was face to face with you. Lowering himself, he connected his lips with yours and pushed his tongue in your mouth to make you taste yourself, “Delicious, aren’t you?”
He then sat up and spat on his hand before rubbing it up and down his length a few times. Leaning back over you he whispered in his ear, “Gonna stretch your cunt out and ruin you for anyone else.” You gasped and with those words he reached between your legs and spread your folds. He eased his tip into you, resting his elbows on either side of your head and caging you in. The stretch was tantalizing and erotic, both of you moaning, groaning, and gasping together in unison.
You wiggled your bottom to signal you were ready for him to move and he chuckled in your ear, letting his lips graze the shell of it. “Greedy girl huh?” “Mmmm… yess”
It felt neverending as he just kept inching himself in, you swore you were going to split in half from his size. You felt wonderfully full when he bottomed out and let out a lewd groan into your ear.
Another coil began to twist as he began a damn near ruthless pace, ensuring he bottomed out every single time. He dragged one of his hands down your body to find a perch on your hip and pin you down into the bed.
“Come on baby, give me another one before I fill your pretty pussy up.”
Oh he swears he saw the heavens split open when he felt you tighten and spasm around him, letting the cutest and sweetest whimper while digging your nails into his back.
He felt himself getting closer, and his pace became sloppy to mirror it. Pushing himself up onto his hands to watch you, he grabbed your face and kissed you passionately, dirty and hungry. It was teeth clashing, tongues sliding against one another and he could tell you were giving him all you had for that kiss.
The damn broke in his mind and he fell over the edge, spilling himself into your gummy walls.
Sweaty and panting he fell forward onto his elbows once, giving you a big grin. “I think this is the best way I could have possibly finished my day. Literally, ha!”
You rolled your eyes and squished his cheeks between one of your small hands and kissed him, “You’re such an idiot sometimes.. I love it.”
We are suffering a drought of Obi fics, but you've fed us today.
You've captured the essence of him so well; his cheery, almost clumsy affection, his easy charm, his infectious warmth, altogether making him such an appealing character.
As he is in canon, there's a very small leap between that and his ... very extensive sex appeal, lol. And that's exactly what you wrote, a sexy as HELL, down bad Obi who gives you exactly what you need.
ANY excuse to take this man's measurements, LOL. And God help me, I'd be gunning for that erection. It's the first thing I would look for 😂😂😂 I love the background and fleshing out of more of the Fire Force verse you've done here with Reader's profession.
The way he asks her on a date ...
It's perfectly Obi. He's nervous about what her reaction may be, but this guy can face down anything, so it ends up being direct and sweet. Is this a date? Yes, ma'am, you betcha.
Also, as much as I write mostly protected sex, you've given me inspiration to try my hand at some good old unwrapped, LMAOO. IT WAS HOT. OMGGGGG.
You've again captured so perfectly what he'd be like in bed, not overly experienced, but something more instinctual that guides him on how to make you feel good. He's the kind of man who pays attention in every other way, so naturally, he'd be extremely attentive to his partner.
Also (YES TO THAT DICK, THANK YOUUUU).
When he whispers THAT line in her ear, I swear, I blushed just reading it. His dirty talk is SO GOOD, not overly elaborate, but just hits all the right spots (as he does, hehehehehe).
I need this man on a primal level, in case that wasn't obvious.
Thank you for this smutty, tender dream of a fic and I look forward to more of your writing, in between the baking!
