𝜗𝜚 Summer is fading- and so is your hangover. Unfortunately, you forgot to make sure you had money to pay Choso Kamo when he arrived at the door with your order; how else could you make sure he goes home satisfied?
content: smut, p in v, riding, crying (Choso), slapping, flashing, creampies, end of the series </3
wc: 2.6k
series masterlist
part seven | final part | epilogue...
Heat oozes into the house like honey, sticking to the walls and pressing down on your chest until you’re sweating. It’s been like this all day, unusually hot, your thinnest tank and shorts clinging to you like sap; even as your parents left the house it still wasn’t cool, their shouted goodbyes echoing up the stairs to where you were slumped by the sink and splashing water onto your face.
The hangover has dissipated, mostly, dizziness and nausea fading into a weary fatigue that settles casually in your bones and refuses to leave. You don’t feel sick anymore, instead you feel stifled, skin clammy as you scrape your hair back.
The fridge offers refuge, a slight chill dancing around you when you wrap your hand around the handle and pull. Typically, you don’t realise how hungry you are until there’s no food left to satiate it.
“Ugh.” You groan, peering at the shelves. “Nothing.”
The fridge is bare, save for a few jars and a singular, saddened punnet of strawberries that look long past their prime. You grimace as you shove them to the side, searching for literally anything else edible. “Seriously, nothing?” you mutter to yourself indignantly.
You swing the fridge closed and tap your foot agitatedly against the floor. There’s barely any ingredients left in your fridge, let alone something to make a meal with. Your eyes drift tiredly around the kitchen, squinting as the last remnants of evening sun trickle in through the glass, before they settle on the little brochure stacked beside the sink.
“Huh.” You say to yourself, turning the glossy paper over in your hands. Pizza doesn’t sound too bad, you guess, staring at the pictures of food plastered underneath the font happily displaying the number to call should you ever want to.
The guy on the other end of the phone is nice enough, if monotone, as you place your order. He notifies you bluntly there’ll be a twenty minute wait time, and you thank him before ending the conversation and flopping backwards onto the couch.
Heat drifts over you in waves as you breathe in the summer warmth, the evening overtaking the last needles of golden sunset while you wait patiently for the food. When the doorbell finally does ring, you open the door to somebody who you’d mistake for the lead singer of a band if it wasn’t for the cheery nametag.
“Hi.” He says bluntly, blinking slowly as you stare at him.
And yes, you are staring. How could you not? Soft, dark hair falls messily over eyes framed by streaks of black makeup, and his arms flex below the boring fabric of his company polo as he holds up the box containing your food.
“Hi.” You say, a little more breathily than you would’ve liked. “Um, how much?”
“I don’t know…” he mumbles, “don’t they tell you over the phone?”
You giggle nervously, suddenly awkwardly aware of how thin your shorts actually are as you almost soak them through just looking at the way his eyes focus on you. “Oh, yeah. They did. Let me just-“
You freeze. There should be a neat little few notes crumpled up as emergency change on the table next to you, beside the ceramic key bowl, but there’s nothing. Your parents must’ve taken it, you curse yourself- how could you have missed it?
Incredibly mortified, you turn slowly to face- what was his name again? Oh yeah, Choso, according to his plastic nametag- and almost pass out with nerves. “There’s, uh… I don’t have any money.”
He raises one pierced eyebrow, and your gaze is instinctively drawn to the way the little silver studs glimmer. And then back to his eyes. His slightly reddened, slightly heavy eyes…
“Hey…” you say, squinting, “aren’t you supposed to be, I don’t know, sober to deliver food?”
Without missing a beat, although his cheeks pinken just a little, Choso replies. “Aren’t you supposed to be wearing a bra to collect it?”
It floors you initially, makes you bristle in annoyance as you open your mouth to retort- but he’s right, probably. The air has turned cool enough to pebble your nipples, your tank top doing nothing to hide it- in fact, it probably makes them stand out more in the dim porch light.
But, if he’s noticed… then he’s looking.
“Do you…” you say slowly, folding your arms across your cold chest. You catch the way Choso’s eyes widen just a tad at the sight of your newly-pushed up cleavage, and almost lick your lips in anticipation. “Do you take other forms of payment?”
God, you almost cringe at yourself- seriously, how stereotypically slutty can you be? Fortunately, Choso doesn’t cringe; he doesn’t even flinch, just furrows his brows a little confusedly. “Um… I don’t think we have a card reader, but-“
You sigh. Now or never, you suppose, and if you get charged for public indecency then so be it. Raising your hands, your fingers curl dextrously into the fabric of your top before snagging it down.
Choso’s face goes bright red and his jaw drops. “I- you- fuck-“
His hand- the one not balancing the forgotten cardboard box- twitches at his side like he’s trying very, very hard not to reach out and touch your revealed tits, bare in front of him. When you tug the fabric back up, he actually whimpers a little at the loss.
“Get it now?”
Choso straightens up like he’s been slapped across the face, and he nods like a well trained puppy. “I- yeah.” He swallows down another whimper threatening to crawl up inside his throat when you wrap your fingers into his belt loops and tug him inside, his heel automatically slamming the door shut.
The box is set somewhere on the coffee table as you drag him down, pressing his spine to the rug as it swallows him up. Choso’s large hands fly instantly to your hips, a gentle tremor wracking through the touch when you straddle his hips and grind down enough to hear him choke on his own breath.
“You’re really pretty.” He says suddenly, then flushes like he regrets it instantly. “Sorry, I mean- I just-“ he moans shakily, eyeing the way you peel your tank off. “Yeah… no, I meant pretty.”
Choso’s mouth dries when you lift his hands to the softness of your tits, his thumbs stroking over the skin while your thighs bracket the obvious bulge pressing up insistently against your clothed cunt.
With his hands occupied, you’re free to do what you like- unzipping his jeans and drifting two fingers near his waistband, but not enough to yank it down yet. Instead, you push up the fabric of his shirt until he regretfully pulls his hands from your chest and lifts his arms up.
“Shit.” You curse, tossing the fabric of his shirt to the side. His abdomen is defined and lean, a pretty smattering of freckles littering the skin. They’re lost eventually as your eyes travel down, to the dark trail of hair dipping into his underwear- the underwear he’s begging you to take off.
“C’mon, please-“ he struggles beneath you, “I’ll-“
“You’ll what, Choso?” You question sternly, wriggling out of your shorts and granting him the most precious view of your soaked panties before you plant your body back low on his hips.
“I’ll be good-“ he breathes, a keen cracking at the back of his mouth. “Please?”
You smile, sliding your panties to the side and gently pulling him out of his underwear. Choso gasps the moment your hand wraps around him, warm skin on warm skin- but when you notch him at your entrance, he’s already a mess.
His hips buck upwards when you sink down, enveloping his length with your body’s slick- his spine curves when you dig your nails into his shoulders for balance, leaning forwards to press your tits against his chest. “Does that feel nice, Cho?”
Your cooing makes him groan, eyes heavier than they were before. “Y-yes, it does, hnngh-“
You smile. “Good.”
It’s supposed to be condescending- and it is, it sends a bolt of embarrassment right through Choso to his leaky cock- but it might be slightly more intimidating if it weren’t for the way your voice wobbles into a high moan at the end.
His hands land on the soft globes of your ass, fingers pulling you apart in an attempt to gain any form of control while you slide up and down. He really wasn’t too high when he knocked on your door, mostly a residual haze of smoke curling around his lungs, but now-
Choso feels like he’s floating, the gratifying squeeze of your pussy around his cock makes his head loll back against the carpet while tiny, hot puffs of breath expel themselves from between his lips.
Lips you’re capturing with yours swiftly, eagerly running your tongue inside his mouth to tangle with his. Choso’s hands never leave your ass, palming desperately at the skin and leaving greedy handprints.
Between the strings of sheeny saliva stretching between your lips, Choso heaves out something that doesn’t quite resemble words, but is a little more coherent than a whimper. “Hm, Cho?”
He chases after your mouth instinctually, before pulling back and gazing up at you with flushed cheeks. “I want you to…”
You frown. “I can’t hear you, baby.”
He swallows down the lump in his throat and focuses his swimming vision on your face. “Can you just…” his hand trails to one of yours planted on his shoulder, gently unfurling the fist you’ve curled it into and tentatively presses the palm flat onto his cheek. Your breath hitches. “You want me to hit you?”
He nods eagerly, “please, just a few times, need it so bad-“
Nervously, you raise your hand and he almost sobs in anticipation for the sting. When it lands, the sound is so sharp you gasp and immediately run to thumb over the glowing mark- or at least, you try, because Choso’s suddenly rutting hips knock you off balance.
“Again-“ he groans, bouncing you up and down on his cock as pre puddles at his base. He pays it no mind, entirely too focused on the way your wobbly hand cracks across his face.
“Oh, fuck-“ Choso babbles, “keep- baby, fuck, keep going-!” The incoherent nonsense flowing from his mouth seems endless, expletives plaiting with cutoff moans and gasps. “Keep going, please-“
And you do, slowly gaining more confidence as sweat pearls out on his forehead and you land another fresh hit; he’s still somehow managing to maintain a steady pace, gripping at your thighs, waist, any skin he can hold to shakily guide you up and down.
Eventually, your hand starts to prickle from the amount of hits you’ve landed onto his face. You can only imagine how much he’s hurting, but he seems to be getting off on it. You wince as you shake the sting out of your palm, before firmly resting it back on his chest to move quicker.
“Why’d you stop?” He gasps, tears welling in his eyes and picking up the stray remnants of eyeliner decorating his waterline. Thumbing gently, the drops of water dissipate and smear the charcoal-coloured makeup across his skin. Surprised, you blink down at him. “I-“
Choso grabs your wrist. “One more.” He’s pleading now, puppy eyes glossy and dark. “Just one, s’all I need, I promise-“
You oblige, flinching just a little as the slap lands heavy and splayed on his cheek. His body seizes as you bring it down- hard- gazing at the way his eyes roll back in his skull. “Fuck!”
His mouth gapes open dumbly, cock spurting stickily inside your cunt as he trembles. You grind back on him, pressing your clit to his pelvis, and the slight bolt of friction is all you need.
Your face falls forwards, planting yourself firmly on his cock to the base and jittering through your orgasm. Choso isn’t spared by it, overstimulation thrumming meanly in his veins as you throb around him. He buries his face into you, dark hair tickling your warm skin as he cracks out a few pathetic sobs.
Your breath comes heavy as you sit up just enough to peer down at his wrecked face. “Sooo…” you say hoarsely, “does that cover the pizza?”
Choso looks at you like you’ve just started speaking a different language. “H-huh?”
You gently move off him- still totally naked, thighs sticky as he whimpers at the loss- and grab the box with clammy fingers. “The pizza. That you delivered.“
“Oh.” He says, propping himself up on his elbows, gloriously unaware of how good he looks. “Yeah.”
“Hungry?” You question suddenly, feeling rather bad for kicking him out immediately after an orgasm. “We can share it.”
Choso’s already blindly nodding, reaching for the cold slices he can see in the cardboard. You freeze halfway to grabbing yours. “Wait, stay there. Don’t eat it!”
Choso looks at you, bemused, as you run upstairs- to your room, where you’re seizing the camera thrown casually on your bed besides a pair of scissors, excess polaroids, a gluestick and some pens- before running back down to the living room.
“What’re you doing?” Choso asks through a mouthful.
You don’t reply, too focused on slinging the camera towards the open pizza box and snapping a picture. Choso decides not to comment, munching on the food instead while he brings himself to his feet and redresses.
“Thanks.” He mumbles, cheeks still flushed and streaked faintly with eyeliner. “I’ll… I’ll go now.” Choso mutters something about family stuff as he stumbles out- his shirt on backwards, you can tell by the nametag clinging to his shoulder blade- and the door closes over.
You dust your hands from crumbs before following his lead and weakly pulling yourself to stand on slightly shaky legs. The temperature has officially dipped by now, a faint breeze drifting through the cracked window of your bathroom when you slump against the shower wall.
University is ready to welcome you back soon, you think, gently scrubbing away at your arms. Soon enough, you’ll be cooped back up in your dorm with your laptop and a pile of assignments as your lamp spills light across the room.
It’s nothing like your hometown. Your friends are still there, sure, but it’s an entirely new roster of faces compared to padding along the sun-streaked pavements that exist just on your doorstep. And there’s definitely a severe lack of beaches.
Shampoo is next, a ritualistic rhythm of pouring it into your palms and emulsifying to bubbles before massaging the product into your scalp. As you wash, the water carrying the shampoo down your back is just cooling enough to feel revitalising. The same goes for conditioner, twirling glossily around your hair before joining the fray in the basin of the shower.
You sigh as the water drips to a close, soap swirling and collecting at your feet to bubble away into the drain. Wiping the steam off the bathroom mirror, you peer at your reflection and smile, self-satisfied as you stand in your fluffy towel and water beads from the ends of your hair.
The last polaroid fills the blank page, the scrapbook now thick and heavy with memories captured on glossy film. Some funny, some picturesque, some blurry or pretty. Your hands smooth over the cover, flicking the pages absently while you think.
Whatever anybody would think about how you spent your summer, however you’ll look back on it in five, ten, fifteen years, one thing is for certain-
You didn’t waste it.
And your photo album is finally full.
series masterlist | check out the photo album! | regular masterlist
a/n: thank you so, so much if you read all 8 parts (or even just this one!) I had soooo much fun writing the plot of this little series, and even though it's raining where I am quite frequently these chapters always put me in a summer mood! Please comment here (or on the epilogue) and let me know your opinions! again, I'm so so thankful for you all <33
your thumb gently brushed over the bridge of megumi’s nose as you smiled down at him.
the two of you were laying in bed together, moonlight filtering through the window and illuminating a sliver of his face.
he was shirtless, neck and collarbone littered with soft purple marks, left by you earlier that night. his hair was mussed from you tugging at it. but he looked so beautiful.
“what’re you doing…?” he grumbled, one eye opening to peek up at you.
“you look so pretty, baby.” you whispered, the pad of your thumb brushing his sharp jawline now, tracing it gently.
“shut up..” he murmured, but there was no real conviction to his words. the faint blush on his cheeks betrayed his stubborn attitude.
“i’m serious. how is your face so perfect?” you asked, eyes fixed on his long lashes. he opened his mouth to protest, but you cut him off.
“i’m jealous of you. your nose is so cute and small,” you traced the bridge of his nose again.
“and your skin is so smooth, and clear.” you continued, fingers brushing his cheeks.
his eyebrows furrowed, and he avoided your gaze, clearly flustered.
“and your lashes genuinely piss me off. why are they so long and perfect.” you mutter, leaning so close to him that your lashes practically brushed against his.
“they piss you off…?” he repeated, voice soft and a little confused. he never understood you when you got like this.
“yeah. like, you don’t even need serums or extensions or anything. they’re just… like that.” you murmur, pulling away and looking down at him, your gaze tracing his features and falling to his lips.
without another word, you leaned down, pressing a soft kiss to his pink lips.
yeah.
his lips were perfect too.
||a/n: oh my sweet sweet megumi. save me megumi fluff…
i think megumi just needs a little push to open up to you (fluff, a bit sad - gn!reader)
disclaimer ⋆.˚ my works are purely fiction with all events occurring between 21+ consenting adults
***this work is sfw, but i always add my general disclaimer to every post
megumi had a tendency to close himself off when he was feeling too much, dealing with his battles on his own.
you'd been together for a few years now, but still, he struggled to open up to you. you never pushed, always offering gentle assurance that you'd be there whenever he was ready. every step, even as little as being slightly inconvenienced one time when he didn't cook his breakfast sandwich long enough, got annoyed, and told you that while you sat at the table together, was important. these moments were constructing a pathway to honesty.
"i'm here if you need me." you smiled sweetly, placing a delicate kiss on his cheek.
he hummed and nodded, not really saying much else before going back to playing his video games. he was usually pretty loud when gaming online with his friends- but this time, he wasn't even doing that.
you frowned, observing him from the kitchen as you waited for your tea to steep. you'd seen megumi down before, but not like this. not even allowing himself to have fun with his hobbies for even a second? whatever was going on was clearly worse than you realized.
you just watched how he responded during dinner, rubbing your hands along his knuckles as he silently ate his meal. you shared information about your day, but tried not to overwhelm him too much.
what broke you was when you heard quiet sobs coming from the bathroom as you were getting dressed for bed, heart clenching violently in your chest.
"megumi, love," you called him gently, softly rapping at the door, "you know you can always talk to me."
"i-i don't-," he sighed, slumping his head against the back of the door on the other side, "fuck, why is it so hard for me to talk about my feelings?"
you gently coaxed him when you were back in the bedroom together, running your fingers through his damp hair as he lay his head on your chest. he was breathing shakily and you could feel his tears wetting your shirt.
"i've been thinking about my dad again," he said quietly, swallowing the lump in his throat, "and it fucking kills me."
you kissed the top of his head, humming sweetly as he allowed himself to release everything he had been burdening his heart with. since his father's death, he had been trying to appear so strong and put together, but it was becoming increasingly difficult the more he failed to address his true emotions.
"it's hard, baby, i understand," you cooed, rubbing your thumbs along his cheeks to wipe away the tears, "you don't have to go through this alone, you can count on me, i hope you know that."
he lifted his head, eyes apologetic as he kissed you, melting into your deep love for him. "i do," he whispered, touching your foreheads together as you parted, "i'm trying."
"you're doing an amazing job," you smiled, intertwining your hands with his, "i love you."
𝓲𝗻 𝘄𝗵𝗶𝗰𝗵 ♰ after years of being best friends, you and megumi finally stop dancing around your feelings and share your first kiss on a quiet autumn evening.
✿ ◞◟) fushiguro megumi 𝓍 gn!reader
𝓬𝗼𝗻𝘁𝗲𝗻𝘁 fluff, childhood best friends to lovers, megumi is just a cute little guy, mutual pining, first kiss, yearning (?), soft domestic intimacy, multiple little kisses, hand holding.
the late afternoon light was doing that thing again — spilling through the gaps in the trees like honey, turning the familiar path home into something almost dreamlike.
you and megumi had walked this route a thousand times, and maybe more. since you were both small enough that your school bags looked comically oversized on your backs, since you’d learned to ride bikes on this very stretch of sidewalk, since you’d scraped your knees and he’d silently handed you a bandage from his pocket without being asked.
today wasn’t any different.
the two of you were still in your school uniforms, megumi’s tie loosened just a little because he always tugged at it after the final bell, and your shoes were scuffed from kicking at loose gravel on the way. the air smelled like fallen leaves and someone’s distant laundry, that particular softness of a friday evening when there was nowhere urgent to be.
megumi walked beside you the way he always did; close enough that your shoulders nearly brushed with every other step, his hands shoved into his jacket pockets, his soft gaze fixed somewhere ahead but not really looking at anything in particular. you’d learned to read megumi’s silences years ago, and this silence was the comfortable kind, the kind that meant megumi was just existing next to you without needing to fill the space with unnecessary words.
“you’re doing that thing again,” you said, bumping your elbow against his arm.
megumi glanced over, one dark eyebrow lifting just slightly.
“what thing?”
“that thing where you pretend you’re not hungry but you’ve been staring at the convenience store for the last two blocks.”
the corner of his mouth twitched. he looked away, but you caught the faint color that crept up the side of his neck.
“i wasn’t staring.”
“oh, you were. your 'i want a melon pan' esface is very distinctive, gumi.”
megumi didn’t deny it.
instead, he stopped walking, and you stopped too because that was just how it worked between you — you moved together like you’d been choreographed, even when there was no music. megumi turned toward you, and the late sun caught the side of his pretty face, lighting up the sharp line of his jaw and the softness of his mouth. megumi was completely looking at you now and there was something about the way he did that —like you were the only thing in his line of sight that actually mattered.
“maybe i was looking at the convenience store,” megumi admitted, his voice low and a little rougher than usual, the way it got when he was tired or comfortable or both. “but not because i’m hungry.”
you waited, but megumi didn’t elaborate, he just kept looking at you, and the silence stretched out, not awkward but heavy in a way that made your stomach do something strange; like a slow flip, like your insides were remembering something your brain hadn’t caught up to yet.
“then why?” you asked, softer than you meant to.
megumi shrugged, one shoulder lifting and falling.
“you like the strawberry milk from there. the brand with the cow on the carton.”
oh.
that was it. that was the whole thing.
megumi hadn’t been thinking about himself at all. he’d been thinking about you, about the way you always grabbed that particular strawberry milk when you were both too lazy to go straight home, about the fact that you hadn’t had one in a while because your last few walks had been rushed.
your chest ached. not in a bad way, in the way that happened when you remembered, suddenly and completely, that this boy had known you longer than anyone else in the world and still, somehow, paid attention to the smallest things.
“megumi,” you said, and your voice came out a little weird, a little cracked.
he noticed, of course he noticed, megumi’s eyebrows drew together, just barely, the way they did when he was trying to figure out if something was wrong.
“what?”
you shook your head, smiling before you could stop yourself.
“nothing. come on, let’s go get milk.”
megumi nodded, and you started walking again, but something had shifted; the air felt different now, or maybe it was just you, hyperaware of every single inch of space between your bodies, of the way megumi’s arm swung a little closer to yours than before. you could feel the warmth radiating off him even through your jacket sleeves.
the convenience store was small and brightly lit, the kind of place that always smelled like coffee and fried chicken and cheap air freshener. megumi went straight to the cooler and pulled out two little cartons of strawberry milk — one for you, one for himself, even though he didn’t really like sweet things.
he just liked drinking the same thing as you, you’d noticed. it was one of his quiet habits.
you paid while megumi stood by the door, and when you walked out together, the sun had dipped lower, painting everything in shades of orange and pink.
you didn’t head straight home. instead, without a word, you both turned toward the small park a few blocks away — the one with the wooden bench under the big gingko tree, the one you’d claimed as yours years ago when you were both too young to really understand what that meant.
the bench was empty.
it always was at this hour, right before families showed up for the evening. you sat down, close but not pressed together, and cracked open your milk. the first sip was cold and sweet, and you let out a small satisfied hum without thinking.
beside you, megumi smiled. it was barely anything; just a softening around his eyes, a slight upward tilt of his lips, but you caught it anyway.
“you’re staring now,” he said, not looking at you, his eyes fixed on the carton in his hands.
“so what if i am?”
megumi didn’t answer. his ears were pink, you could see it in the fading light, the way the color spread from the tips to the edges of his cheekbones. it made you want to reach out and touch, just to feel if his skin was as warm as it looked.
you didn’t, but you wanted to.
the silence settled between you again, but it wasn’t the same as before. it was charged, like the moment right before a storm breaks, when the air gets heavy and everything goes still. you could hear the distant sound of traffic, a dog barking somewhere, the rustle of leaves above you, and your own heartbeat, maybe. it was hard to tell.
megumi set his carton down on the bench beside his thigh. he was sitting sideways now, turned toward you, one arm draped over the back of the bench behind your shoulders.
you turned to face him too, pulling one leg up onto the bench so you were closely angled toward him completely, really close, close enough that you could see the tiny scar on his chin from when he’d fallen off the monkey bars in third grade, close enough to count his eyelashes if you wanted to.
megumi’s eyes dropped to your mouth.
it was so quick you almost missed it, a flicker of movement, but you didn’t miss it. you saw the way his gaze lingered, just for a second, before snapping back up to meet yours, and then he looked away entirely, staring at the gingko tree like it had suddenly become the most interesting thing in the world.
your heart was pounding; you could feel it in your throat, in your temples, in the tips of your fingers.
you’d been here before. not physically, not this exact bench at this exact moment, but here — on the edge of something, with megumi’s attention sharp and heavy on you, with the question hanging in the air between you like a held breath. you’d danced around it for years, probably. the almost-kisses that turned into forehead bumps because you both got way too nervous. the moments where your faces drifted close and then one of you would laugh, or sneeze, or suddenly remember a thing you had to do.
you’d never pushed, neither of you, because it had always been enough, just being next to each other, just knowing; you’d grown up together, grown into each other, and the idea of changing that — of crossing some invisible line — had always felt too big to approach.
but you were eighteen now, and you were tired of almost.
“megumi,” you said softly.
he didn’t look at you; megumi’s jaw was tight, the muscle jumping once.
“hey.” you softly reached out and touched megumi’s wrist, the one resting on the bench. megumi’s skin was warm, his pulse beating fast against your fingertips (faster than you’d expected). “look at me.”
he did, reluctantly. his eyes were dark in the evening light, serious and a little scared, and it was such a raw expression on his usually composed face that your breath caught.
“you were staring at my mouth,” you said, not accusing, just stating. “earlier.”
megumi didn’t deny it, he never lied to you.
“yeah.”
“why?”
megumi’s throat moved as he swallowed, and his fingers twitched under your hand, and then, very carefully, he turned his wrist over so his palm was facing up; an invitation. you took it, lacing your fingers through his, and his hand closed around yours like it belonged there.
“you know why,” he said, and his voice was barely above a whisper, rough at the edges.
you did know, but you wanted to hear him say it, or maybe you just wanted to be sure, wanted to hear the words out loud so you could stop second-guessing every single signal you’d been reading for the past year.
“tell me anyway.”
he was quiet for a long moment. the light was fading fast now, the sky deepening to a bruised purple, and the first stars were starting to poke through. his thumb moved across the back of your hand, back and forth, a nervous rhythm.
“i’ve wanted to kiss you for a really long time,” megumi finally said, and the words came out steady even though his hand was shaking slightly in yours. “like, a stupidly long time. maybe since we were fourteen and you fell asleep on my shoulder during that fireworks festival.”
your heart stopped, or maybe it just tripped over itself. fourteen was four years ago; four years of wanting, of almosts, of him sitting beside you with his heart pounding just as hard as yours and saying nothing.
“why didn’t you?” you asked, and your voice came out small, the way it did when you were feeling too many things at once.
he exhaled, a short breath that was almost a laugh.
“because it mattered. you mattered. i didn’t want to mess it up by doing it wrong, or too soon, or—” megumi cut himself off, looking down at your joined hands. “i don’t know. i thought maybe the right moment would just happen. and then it kept not happening, and i kept getting in my own head about it.”
you squeezed his hand. “and now?”
megumi looked up at you, and there was something different in his expression now; something softer and more certain. the fear was still there, but it was buried under something warmer, something that looked a lot like hope.
“now i’m tired of waiting,” he said. “if you are.”
the world went very quiet; the dog stopped barking, the traffic faded. there was only him, only the warmth of his palm against yours, only the way he was looking at you like you were the answer to a question he’d been asking himself for years.
“okay,” you whispered.
his eyes widened a fraction. “okay?”
“okay. yeah. i’m tired of waiting too.”
for a second, neither of you moved. it was like the whole universe was holding its breath, waiting to see what would happen next. and then megumi’s free hand came up, slow and deliberate, and his fingers brushed against your cheek.
his touch was so light it was barely there, just a whisper of contact, but it sent a shiver down your spine.
megumi was watching your face intently, searching for any sign of hesitation, and when he found none, he let his palm rest against your jaw. his hands were warm; they were always warm, you’d known that for years, but this was different; this was his hand on your face, his thumb tracing the curve of your cheekbone, his breath fanning across your lips because he was leaning in, so slowly, giving you every chance to pull away.
you didn’t pull away.
you leaned in too, just a little, just enough to close the gap. your eyes were still open, and so were his, and it was almost funny — the two of you staring at each other from inches away, both of you too nervous to blink.
“can i—” he started, and then stopped, his voice catching.
“yes,” you said, before he could even finish. “yes, megumi.”
his smile was tiny and crooked and so, so soft.
and then his eyes finally fluttered shut, and yours did too, and the space between you disappeared.
megumi’s lips were warm, too.
that was the very first thing you registered — the warmth, the gentle pressure, the way he was so careful it almost hurt. he wasn’t rushing, he wasn’t pressing hard or trying to make it anything other than what it was; a first kiss, awkward and sweet and perfect in all its imperfection. megumi’s lips were slightly chapped, and you could taste the faint sweetness of strawberry milk, and his nose bumped against yours at an awkward angle, and none of it mattered.
what mattered was the way his hand slid from your jaw into your hair, fingers curling gently at the nape of your neck. what mattered was the small, shaky breath he let out against your mouth, like he’d been holding it in for years and was finally allowed to let go. what mattered was the way your free hand came up to grip the front of his uniform shirt, twisting the fabric around your fingers because you needed something to hold onto, something to anchor you to the ground.
the kiss lasted maybe three seconds, or maybe five; it was impossibly short and impossibly long all at once, the kind of moment that stretches and compresses until it exists outside of time entirely.
when megumi pulled back, just barely, his forehead rested against yours. you were both breathing a little faster than normal, your breath mingling in the small space between you.
megumi’s eyes were still closed, his lashes dark against his cheeks, and his lips were parted slightly, pink and soft.
“oh,” you said, because your brain had apparently short-circuited and that was the only word you could find.
his eyes opened; they were darker than you’d ever seen them, pupils blown wide in the dim light, and megumi was looking at you like you’d hung the stars.
“oh,” he agreed, and his voice was wrecked, cracked and tender and so full of something you didn’t have a name for.
you laughed. you couldn’t help it — it bubbled up out of your chest, quiet and giddy and a little hysterical, and then megumi was laughing too, not his usual small huff of amusement but a real laugh, low and warm, his shoulders shaking with it.
“that was—” you started.
“terrible,” megumi finished, but he was smiling, really smiling, the kind of smile he only ever gave you. “was it terrible?”
“no,” you said immediately. “no, it was… it was good. it was really good.”
his cheeks flushed, the pink spreading down to his neck.
“it was our first kiss. it was supposed to be, i don’t know, like… smoother?”
“i don’t want smooth,” you said, and you meant it. “i want you. i want this.”
megumi stared at you for a long moment, his expression shifting through about a dozen emotions way too fast to track, and then the young boy leaned in again, slower this time, and more deliberate, megumi’s hand cupping the back of your head like you were something precious.
and, oh well, the second kiss was different.
it was softer, for one thing, and more certain. megumi tilted his head slightly, adjusting the angle so your noses didn’t bump, and the pressure of his lips was firmer now, more confident. you felt it everywhere — in the way your toes curled inside your shoes, in the way your stomach flipped and fluttered, in the way your fingers tightened in megumi’s shirt like you were afraid he might disappear.
megumi made a sound, small and low, almost a hum, and the vibration of it traveled from the boy’s mouth to yours and down into your chest. you responded without thinking, pressing closer, and megumi let you, his other arm coming around to pull you against him.
the bench creaked under the shift in weight, and you almost laughed again but then his lips moved against yours, just barely, just a hint of movement, and all the air left your lungs.
this was kissing.
this was really kissing, the kind you’d read so many times about in books and seen in movies and pretended you didn’t think about late at night when you couldn’t sleep. but it was better than any of that, because it was megumi; it was his slightly chapped lips and his warm hands and the way he tilted his head just so, the way he smelled like soap and autumn air and something that was just him.
megumi pulled back after a few seconds, but not far. his lips hovered over yours, and you could feel him smiling, that tiny private smile that was yours alone.
“okay,” he said, his voice soft and a little breathless. “that one was better.”
you nodded, not trusting your voice.
your whole face felt warm, your lips tingling, your heart doing something ridiculous in your chest.
megumi kissed you again, and again, and again; three quick pecks in a row, each one softer than the last, like he was testing the feel of it, memorizing it. the fourth one lingered, and you kissed him back this time, meeting his mouth with yours, learning the rhythm of it together.
when you finally separated, the sky was almost dark, the first few stars bright overhead. your strawberry milk was probably warm by now, forgotten on the bench.
neither of you reached for it.
megumi’s hand found yours again, fingers interlacing so naturally, so comfortably. his thumb traced small circles on the back of your hand, and you naturally leaned into his side, your head finding its usual spot against megumi’s shoulder; it fit the same way it always had, but somehow it fit way better now, like something had clicked into place that you hadn’t even realized was misaligned.
“we should have done that sooner,” you murmured into megumi’s jacket.
he pressed a kiss to the top of your head, feather-light.
“maybe. but we did it now.”
you tilted your face up to look at megumi, and in the dim light, with his dark hair falling softly over his forehead and his eyes warm and sleepy and so full of you, he was the most beautiful thing you’d ever seen.
“hey, gumi?”
“hm?”
“i love you.”
he went still for a moment, his whole body freezing, and then, so slowly, he relaxed, his arm tightening around you, his cheek coming to rest against your hair.
“i know,” he said, and you could hear the smile in his voice. “i’ve known for a while. but it’s nice to hear you say it.”
you poked his side. “you’re supposed to say it back.”
megumi laughed, quiet and warm, and you felt it rumble through his chest.
“i love you too. obviously. i’ve loved you since you threw a shoe at that kid who was mean to me in second grade.”
“he deserved it.”
“he did.” megumi tilted his head down and caught your mouth in one last kiss, sweet and lingering and full of promise. “you’ve always been like that. you’ve always been mine.”
and sitting there on that old wooden bench, under the gingko tree with the last of the autumn leaves drifting down around you, you thought that maybe the right moment didn’t have to be perfect, maybe it just had to be real, and this — strawberry milk breath and clumsy forehead bumps and megumi’s heartbeat under your palm — this was as real as it got.
[ SYNOPSIS ] — yuuta really wants you to help him exercise :( w.c: 1.4k
[ PAIRING ] — okkotsu yuuta x reader
[ TAGS ] — gn!reader, pure fluff, established relationship, sorcerer au or not (you pick), yuuta and reader are so very cute.
[ A/N ] — I MISS MY BABY SO BAD 🥹 i tried sth new w the layout but it's so ass and I'm too lazy to change it. I wrote this today while doing my internship so it's not proofread AT ALL.
If you liked this consider joining my taglist!
The afternoon light slants through the gym windows, golden and slow, painting long rectangles of warmth across the padded floor. The air smells faintly of clean sweat and the lavender spray you’d used to wipe down the mats earlier. It’s quiet, save for the soft rhythm of Yuuta’s breathing and the occasional thump of his back meeting the ground.
He’d come to you twenty minutes ago, all fidgeting hands and averted eyes, and asked—so quietly you barely caught it—if maybe you’d sit with him while he exercised. “It’s just... it’s more fun when you’re here,” he’d mumbled, the tips of his ears turning red. “I’ll work harder. I promise.” And then, after a pause so fragile it could have shattered, “Maybe... maybe I could get a reward? For each one?”
You’d raised an eyebrow, already smiling. “What kind of reward?”
Yuuta had looked at the floor, then at the ceiling, then finally—bravely—at your lips. “A kiss? Please?”
So now here you are, stationed at his feet, counting kisses under your breath and watching him fall apart in the sweetest way possible.
His back hits the mat again with a breathless little oof. His chest rises and falls beneath his soaked shirt, the fabric clinging to the lean lines of his body. Dark strands of hair are plastered to his forehead, and a pink flush spills from his cheeks all the way down his neck, disappearing beneath his collar. His arms lie limp at his sides, trembling faintly, and his legs feel like jelly under your gentle hold. But the moment his glassy eyes find your face, he smiles. Soft. Hopeful. Almost unbearably shy.
“Again?” you ask, already knowing the answer.
He swallows, throat bobbing. His voice comes out a little wrecked, a little pleading. “Please. One more. Just one more.”
You’ve lost count of how many times he’s said that. Every time you think it’s the last, he looks up at you with those impossibly tender puppy eyes and asks—never demands, always asks—and you are left helpless to refuse.
“Alright,” you murmur, giving his ankle an encouraging squeeze. “But this really is the last one, okay? You’re shaking.”
“I’m not,” he protests weakly, even as his stomach muscles visibly quiver.
“You are.”
“Then it’s... it’s happy shaking. Excited shaking.” His lips twitch into a sheepish grin. “Because I get another kiss.”
Your heart performs a pirouette in your chest.
Yuuta curls upward again, a strained groan escaping his lips. His abdominal muscles contract visibly beneath his shirt, and his face scrunches with the effort—but as he draws closer, his expression transforms. The furrow between his brows softens. His lashes flutter. His lips part ever so slightly, forming that unconscious little pout he always makes when he’s waiting for affection.
You lean in and press your lips to his. It’s soft and fleeting, a gentle brush that tastes of salt and the strawberry chapstick you’d smoothed over his mouth a little while ago. He exhales a shaky sigh into the kiss, a sound of such contentment that it wraps around your heart and squeezes.
He drops back down, limbs sprawling out like a starfish. His grin stretches so wide it bunches his cheeks, and his eyes stay closed, savoring the ghost of your lips.
“That was twenty-four,” you tell him, brushing a strand of hair from your face.
Yuuta’s eyes flutter open. He blinks at the ceiling, dazed and dreamy. “Twenty-four,” he repeats, as though tasting the number. Then, quieter, almost reverent, “Twenty-four kisses.”
There’s a long pause. His fingers drum absently against the mat. You watch the gears turn in his head, watch the way his bottom lip tucks itself between his teeth, watch the fresh bloom of pink spread across his cheekbones.
“So...” he starts, voice going all tentative and hopeful, the way it does when he’s about to ask for something he desperately wants but feels shy about wanting. “Technically... twenty-four isn’t a round number.” He peeks up at you from beneath his lashes. “Twenty-five is a round number. Sort of. It ends in five. That’s satisfying.”
“You said one more,” you remind him, though your smile completely undermines any pretense of sternness.
“I know what I said,” he admits, suddenly fascinated by a loose thread on the mat. He picks at it, avoiding your gaze. “But I’m saying something different now. I’m saying... please?” He lifts his eyes, wide and beseeching, and there’s a faint wobble to his lower lip that he is absolutely not doing on purpose. Yuuta could never be manipulative on purpose. (Or so you think) “Please, angel? One more kiss? Just one? I’ll be so good.”
You laugh, a breathless and giddy sound that makes poor Yuuta so so hopeful. “You’re already good, Yuuta.”
He shakes his head, flustered but persistent. “Then one more because I asked nicely? I did say please. I’ll say it again if you want: Please. Please, please, please, please—”
“Okay, okay!” You’re laughing fully now, and he’s grinning up at you like you just handed him the moon. “One more. But after this, you are resting. Actual resting. On the couch. With water.”
“And you?” he asks quickly. “Will you be on the couch too?”
“Obviously.”
His whole face softens. “Okay.”
He settles back into starting position, chest still heaving, muscles still trembling, but that tiny determined furrow between his brows is back. He takes a breath. Curls upward. The movement is slower than all the ones before, a true labor of love, his body screaming for rest but his heart screaming louder for one more kiss.
And when he rises, you meet him halfway.
This kiss is longer. You let your lips rest against his, let the warmth bloom between you, let yourself feel the way his mouth curves into a smile against your own. He exhales through his nose, a soft and shuddering sound, like you’ve just given him something precious.
Then his hands move.
They slip from his sides to your calves, fingers curling gently around them. Warm even through your leggings. You barely have time to gasp before they slide higher, skimming your knees, then your waist, then settling at the small of your back. He tugs—not hard, never hard, just insistent enough to coax you forward. And you go, helplessly, tumbling onto his chest with a startled squeak.
His back meets the mat. Your heart meets his.
“There,” Yuuta breathes, voice a little wobbly, a little triumphant. His arms wrap around you, locking you against him as though you might dissolve into the golden afternoon light if he doesn’t hold tight enough. His chin tucks over your shoulder, and you feel his smile against your temple. “Now I don’t have to stop kissing you. Now I can just... have you whenever I want.”
“Yuuta...” you murmur into the curve of his neck, your own smile pressed against his heated skin.
“Mhm.” He tilts your chin up with one gentle finger and presses his lips to yours again. Slow this time. Languid and sweet, like he has all the time in the world and intends to spend every second of it kissing you. His lips move with aching gentleness, and his fingers trace aimless little patterns on your spine—circles and swirls and what might be tiny hearts. You can feel his heartbeat hammering beneath your palm, fast and flustered.
When you finally break apart, you’re both giggling, noses bumping, breath mingling in the small space between you. His cheeks are flushed a brilliant pink, his hair is a mess, and his eyes hold so much adoration it makes you want him even more than you already do.
“Twenty-five,” he whispers, counting it like it’s the most precious number in the universe. His thumb strokes along your spine. A pause. His voice goes impossibly soft. “...Can I have twenty-six?”
“Yuuta!”
He laughs—a real laugh, bright and breathless—and pulls you even closer, burying his face in the crook of your neck. “Okay, okay,” he relents, his voice honey-warm and content. “ I'm tired though..I don't wanna do more sit-ups. I just want you here.”
His arms tighten around you. His breath slows. The golden light shifts across the floor, and outside, a bird sings.
“I love you,” he murmurs into your skin, so quietly you almost miss it. “So much. More than twenty-five kisses.”
You press a kiss to the top of his head, right where his hair is softest. “I love you too. More than twenty-six kisses!”
He giggles, the sound vibrating through his chest and into yours. “That’s not fair. I said it first.”
“Then I’ll say it more.”
His arms tighten. His smile presses into your shoulder. And the two of you stay there, tangled together on the gym mat, wrapped in warmth and love and the fading scent of strawberry chapstick, while the afternoon stretches on.
this is for your 1k special i hope im doing it right (i dont request often so it makes me nervous lol)
can you pls do megumi-warm summer night in his bedroom-tense-smut-and nerdy/shy reader pls <3
💗 1K SPECIAL 💗
MEGUMI — ONE SUMMER NIGHT
The summer heat pressed into Megumi's bedroom. It was thick, humid, and inescapable. Even with the window cracked open, the air barely stirred, and the faint hum of a distant fan only seemed to push the warmth around rather than cool it. You sat on the edge of his bed, fingers twisting nervously in the hem of your T-shirt, legs crossed, heart thudding against your ribs.
Megumi stood by his desk, a thin tank top clinging to his chest. His hair was slightly damp at the temples, a single strand falling across his brow. He watched you with those dark, patient eyes that were always unreadable, but not cold. He’d been quiet for a long moment, letting you settle, letting the tension build.
"You're nervous," he said finally. His voice was low, steady, like he was stating a fact rather than asking a question.
You nodded, unable to meet his gaze. Your hands kept fidgeting, pulling at the soft cotton of your shirt.
He stepped closer, his bare feet silent on the wooden floor. When he reached the bed, he sat down beside you, the mattress dipping under his weight. His hand came up to your chin, gently tilting your face toward him. His thumb brushed your lower lip, tracing the curve with deliberate slowness.
"Look at me," he said softly, but there was no room for argument.
You did. His eyes were dark pools, and in them you saw nothing but calm, focused attention. It made your stomach flip.
Leaning in, his breath ghosted over your mouth. "Tell me what you want."
Your voice came out small. "I want you to fuck me." You whisper.
A low sound rumbled in his chest—half groan, half growl. He captured your mouth in a kiss that was soft at first, then deeper, more demanding. His hand slid from your chin to the back of your neck, fingers threading through your hair as he pulled you closer. You melted into him, your own hands finding his shoulders, gripping the thin fabric of his tank top.
He broke the kiss and pulled your shirt over your head in one fluid motion. You shivered as the air hit your bare skin. His gaze dropped to your chest, and he drank you in like a man starving. His palms cupped your breasts, thumbs circling your nipples until they stiffened. You arched into his touch, a soft moan escaping your lips.
He pushed you back onto the mattress, following you down, his body covering yours. The bed creaked under the shift. His mouth found your neck, teeth grazing, tongue soothing the small bite. You gasped, hands clutching at his shoulders as he continued his path down your collarbone, your sternum, until his lips closed around one nipple. He sucked, flicked, teased until you were writhing beneath him.
His hand slid down your stomach, fingers hooking into the waistband of your panties. He paused, looking up at you. "Ready?"
You nodded, breathless.
He pulled the fabric down your legs and tossed it aside. Then he settled between your thighs, his fingers stroking the slick heat of your folds. You were already wet, already aching. He circled your clit with just the right pressure, making your hips buck. He teased you like that, bringing you close to the edge before pulling back. You whimpered, frustrated, and he chuckled darkly.
"Not yet."
He sat up and stripped off his tank top, then pushed his shorts and boxers down. His cock stood hard and thick, the tip glistening. He stroked himself once, eyes locked on yours, before positioning himself at your entrance. He didn't push in, he just held there, the head pressing against your slick opening, teasing with the promise of what was to come.
"Look at me," he said again.
You met his gaze. The intensity in his eyes made your breath catch.
He pushed in slowly. The stretch was exquisite, a fullness that filled every part of you. He watched your face, gauging your reaction, adjusting his pace when he saw your lips part in a silent gasp. When he was fully sheathed, he paused, letting you adjust.
"You feel so good," he murmured, almost to himself. His hands roamed from your breasts to your waist, mapping out the natural curve of your figure.
Then he began to move in long, deep strokes that hit exactly where you needed him. The rhythm built steadily, the bed rocking beneath you, the headboard beginning to tap against the wall. Your legs wrapped around his waist, pulling him deeper. He leaned down, capturing your mouth in a messy kiss, all tongue and heat and desperate need.
His hand slid between your bodies, fingers finding your clit, pressing in circles as he thrust. The dual stimulation pushed you higher, faster. You broke the kiss, head thrown back, moaning his name as the coil inside you tightened to the breaking point.
"Cum for me, baby," he growled against your ear. “Come on.”
And you did. A wave of pleasure crashed through you, making your body arch, and your walls clench around him. He groaned, his rhythm faltering, and with a few more deep, hard thrusts, he followed, spilling hot and thick inside you. His body shuddered, a low moan escaping his lips as he spent himself completely.
He collapsed beside you, both of you slick with sweat, breathing hard. He pulled the sheet over your bodies and draped an arm across your waist, pulling you close.
Your head rested on his chest, the steady thump of his heartbeat in your ear. Outside, the cicadas droned on, but inside, everything was quiet, perfect, and satisfied.
a/n: thank you so much for this request! so sorry if it sucks... I haven't written in a while so im a bit off my game. I hope you enjoy though
You’ve seen his hands multiple times, they’re so big.
When he touches you, you can’t help but feel your heart race. He’ll giggle when he notices and keeps playfully teasing. But when he’s playing with your pussy he’s gentle. And when he’s rubbing your clit he’ll make you cry.
He likes to hold your skin back while making you cry. He’ll have you trembling for hours sobbing in his arms. If you’ve never had an orgasm he’ll make you comfortable and take it slow, he’ll softly help you use your words when you want something. And if you want his hands rubbing on you..
“Mmh! Socloseee!” You cry out. Your laying on your back in his bed with your ankles and wrists tied together in the air. He’s sitting in front of you and leaning on top of you, between your legs. “Mmmh…I know you are baby.” He says, with his thumb rubbing your clit harshly. “Ah-aaaahhh!” You cry harder. He speeds up his pace a little. “Let it all out.” His voice so gentle. You roll your eyes in the back of your head and squirt all over his hand and cry. “There it is..” he looks down at your wet cunt. “All that wet stuff dripping all because of me?” He looks back up at you through his lustrous eyes. You only tear up more. “Poor baby so shy.” He’s so mean. He puts his fingers inside your cunt and starts fingering you, your hole making macaroni like sounds.
“Such a cute thing..”
“Mmmh!! N-no more!” You didn’t want him to stop. This is too good.
“Oh you’re going to be so used tonight.”
⋆.𐙚 ̊ 𝑎/𝑛: I’ve been having weird stomach issues 💔
toji distinctly remembers the first time you did it.
the room was filled with the scent of sweat and sex. he was laid on his back, one arm around you, holding you close, his other tucked behind his head. slowly, you peeked your head up from his chest, noticing the silvery lines littering his chest and upper biceps.
a small, soft smile instantly grew on your face.
you rolled over his body, straddling him. a smirk quickly formed on the older man’s face, "ready f’round two already, baby?" he purred.
wrong.
you leaned in, beginning to press tender kisses to every jagged line.
his body stiffened instantly, his facial expression somewhere between irritated and confused. “the hell y’doin that for?" he said, voice low and raspy as always.
you continued kissing, "they’re pretty, i like them," you mumbled against his skin. "ain’t pretty," he responded, though he didn’t attempt to move you, nor stop you.
he just laid there, silently accepting your affection.
“but you say mine are pretty," you frown, looking up at him with a slight pout on your face.
"that’s different."
and then, eventually, then it became a habit.
every time his stretch marks were visible, you’d attack them with kisses like they were the most beautiful thing you’d ever laid your eyes on.
after he’d finished at the gym? your mouth was on them instantly, his loose tank top giving you easy access. he’d just got out of the shower? your lips found his stretch marks before he could even grab a towel.
with time, he stopped tensing up, silently enjoying your affection instead of just tolerating it. in fact, sometimes you swear you can see him smiling in the corner of your eye.
your favourite time to kiss his stretch marks was when he was sleeping soundly, tracing every mark, every scar with your finger; appreciating each one individually.
like the light sleeper he is, he’d open one eye, gathering you close against his chest after you’d finished.
"go back t’sleep," he grumbles, ruffling your hair.
you love your older boyfriend, and every mark and scar that comes with him.
A/N; i was lowkey thinking about this earlier and decided to write about it cus toji DEFINITELY has stretch marks from muscle growth
toji crying at his daughters highschool graduation... :( (papa toji x fem reader)
the photographer you guys hired is trying desperately to get a normal picture while your daughter keeps laughing halfway through every shot.
shes standing out in the sun in her graduation gown, fixing her hair between pictures and trying her absolute best whenever the photographer asks her to pose a certain way, and all you can think is how pretty she looks.
you dont notice it at first, hes standing beside you with his arms crossed, broad shoulders stiff beneath his button up, watching your daughter while she smiles for the camera. then your hand brushes his arm and you glance up, immediately pausing when you catch the look on his face.
his jaw is clenched tight and his eyes are so glossy.
before you can even say anything, a tear slips down his cheek. and you stare at him, almost shocked that youre able to keep it together more than he is.
"toji, are you crying?" you ask softly, shuffling closer.
his head turns so fast it almost makes you laugh.
"ain't cryin'." he grunts, pressing his tongue to the inside of his cheek. the denial would have been much stronger if there wasnt another tear already making its way down his face.
he almost angrily wipes at his eyes and looks away toward the photographer again like that somehow fixes the situation.
across the lawn, your daughter is smiling through another picture, sunlight catching on her gown while she laughs at something the photographer says, and the second toji looks at her again, his expression crumples completely.
"fucks sake." he mutters under his breath, dragging a hand over his face, "look at 'er."
you look at her, and shes beautiful, the same little girl who used to spend most her time in her dads arms, the same little girl who used to hold onto two of his fingers instead of his whole hand.
toji shakes his head slowly, eyes fixed on her, his voice cracks barely. "swear to god she was a baby five minutes ago."
you smile softly, your hand rubbing the junction between his shoulders, reaching up to kiss his cheek.
"baby, shes eighteen." you murmur.
toji looks away because that physically pains him. he can feel his heart clenching, tears continuing to roll down his cheeks even though hes trying so hard to keep composure. his baby is all grown, and he cant take it.
youre laughing and getting emotional at the same time, your hand still rubbing his shoulders. the photographer calls for parents to join the next set of pictures, and your daughter immediately waves both of you over with the biggest smile on her face.
toji takes one look at her and lets out a long suffering sigh, shaking his head while rubbing at his eyes again.
"aint no reason she oughta be this grown already." he grumbles.
you hook your arm through his and lean into his side, feeling him immediately wrap an arm around your waist.
by the time you reach your daughter, tojis still visibly emotional, trying and failing to hide it while his daughter laughs at him for crying, and the look he gives her is so full of love it almost hurts to see.
your daughter smiles softly as she moves to hug him, and toji wraps his arms around her as he reciprocates it, holding her tight. his eyes are still glossy as he presses a kiss to her hair, hecause all he can see when he looks at her is the little girl who used to fit in his arms.
a/n: oh my god shes just his baby thats his baby girl😭😭😭😢😢😢😢😢😢😢😢 toji cant take this hes gonna start begging you for another one LMFAO
Cw: MDNI smut towards the end(oral f receiving), female reader, toxic relationship(slightly), alcohol(mentioned briefly), pain during sex, Gojo is impatient at first, slight fluff and a little angst
Part 3 of my fwb Gojo series
Part 1
Part 2
Part 4 coming soon...
How long has it been since Satoru had kept you safe from a strange man at the club?
Two weeks? Three? You honestly lost track of time.
The morning after, you woke up in his empty apartment. A full glass of water on the end table beside you and a note...
'Drink up and let yourself out when you're ready'
Satoru hated himself for leaving you like that but he couldn't bring himself to let you back into his life. The closeness scared him.
He was well known for his cold demeanor when it came to his sex life. He'd never settled down with anyone, the thought of sharing his life with someone in this way was mortifying.
So, he continued to keep you at arms length. Did he feel bad? Sure, a little but it was better this way, easier on both of you.
**
Satoru sat on his plush sofa while Netflix played lazily in the corner of his eye. He wasn't focused on it anyway, he was focused on his phone.
His finger hovered over your name in his contacts, he wanted to text you. The last text from either of you was something you had sent that sent guilt straight to his soul.
'fuck you too, Satoru. Have a good life'
He deserved that, he'd ghosted you but it still didn't bring him joy. Of course it didn't, you two used to be close friends. Why did he allow sex to complicate things?
The worst part was when he found out you thought he was seeing another girl. He wasn't even sure where you got this information but how could he even think about seeing someone else?
Satoru sighed and tossed his phone down beside him. It was 1am, you would be asleep so he would be selfish if he called you. He didn't even know what to say to you but he found himself wishing things would go back to the way they were before sex got in the way.
**
You sank all the way into the warm water of your bathtub, the bubbles surrounding your naked body and the water splashing around you. The warm glow of the jasmine scented candle flickered calmly on the basin on the other end of the bathroom. A drawn out sigh left your lips as you gazed up at the ceiling.
You thought about satoru, how could you get him out of your mind? He clearly had zero feelings for you and yet, you couldn't stop thinking about him.
You recalled the warm smile he gave you after sex, every single time. He was subtle and barely noticeable but it was there. It was the sort of smile that made your heart flutter and your eyes water when you thought too hard about it.
Thinking about him again made your heart ache all over again and fresh tears streamed down your face. The last thing you texted him was
'fuck you too, Satoru. Have a good life'
But what you really wanted to say was how much it hurt you when he ghosted you. Because before the sex, you two were friends, good friends.
Not only had he shattered your heart but he had left you completely alone. Much to your dismay, all of your friends flocked to him. The only constant in your life that remained the same was Shoko. But, she was still friends with Satoru and you hated putting her in the middle. You were on a deserted island with no one but yourself for company. You could only blame yourself though because you let your feelings become messy.
**
Weeks turned into months and you found yourself picking up the pieces of your broken heart all on your own. You'd considered turning to alcohol, anything to numb the pain but you didn't let yourself.
Then came the thoughts of sex, mind numbing sex with strangers. You'd gone as far as downloading hook up apps to your phone but you uninstalled them just as fast as you installed them. You didn't need strangers to feel whole again, you just needed to focus on yourself so that's what you did. You missed Satoru every hour of every day, you missed who he was before it got messy but most of all you hated him for abandoning you.
It was a sleepy Saturday evening, one of those Saturdays where you had stayed in your pj's all day. You sat on your sofa with a steaming tea in your hand while you counted down the hours until you could go to bed. The working week had been torture so when Saturday came you were wrecked.
Your eyes threatened to close while you watched some trashy show on Netflix, you weren't even sure what it was. You'd just put it on as background noise while you browsed your phone but ended up getting distracted by it.
Your phone lit up beside you and when you gazed at the screen a sharp pain caught you off guard.
It was Satoru...
'Can we talk?'
With a frown you scooped up your phone and stared at the message as if there was a chance you were seeing things. You thought about all the possible responses, part of you wanted to reply positively but then you thought about how much he'd made you suffer over the past few months...
The only reply you could come up with was
'no'
But knowing him, he wasn't going to accept that. Your phone rang, that obnoxious ringtone you'd picked just for him echoed in your apartment and the shirtless photo of him flashed on your screen. The one you'd taken back when you two were sleeping together.
You watched it ring but he was persistent. He continued to call, each time it rang out he called again.
Eventually you decided to block his number, you should've done that months ago anyway....You couldn't help feeling guilty but, you'd just started to move on from the heartache. You couldn't let him back in after that.
Bed time couldn't come soon enough but just as you entered your dark bedroom and flicked the light switch you heard a knock at the door. There was no mistaking who that was...
A sigh left your lips but you chose to ignore the person at the door. More knocks came, more frantic this time but still you continued to do your best at ignoring them. You knew that just behind that door stood a tall, white haired man. The man you once called your friend stood outside your front door and despite the hole he left in your heart, you couldn't bring yourself to open it back up again. For a moment the knocks quietened and you stupidly thought perhaps he'd given up.
"Please, open up! It's me, Satoru." The voice said and you almost laughed. Did he really think he had to say it was him at the door.
'i won't go until you open!" His voice came through almost melodic and then more knocks followed. A frustrated groan fell from your lips as you stormed out of your bedroom and over to your front door. You could see his shadow on the other side of the frosted glass, had he gotten taller somehow?
When you yanked the door open you were met with a very disheveled looking satoru Gojo. He was still Satoru, still as gorgeous as ever but there was an air of desperation to him.
"Go away." You spat but before you could slam your door in his face he stopped you by shoving his foot in the way.
"Hear me out, please?" He said softly and more sincerely that he'd ever sounded before in all the time you'd known him. A quick study of his face told you he was sincere but you could fight the pain he'd caused you. Every part of you wanted to step aside and let him in but your heart wouldn't allow it.
"Go away, Satoru." You repeated with an extra bite on your tone when you spoke his name.
"You have every right to hate me, please, just give me a moment and I'll explain everything" He pleaded
"No." Was all you said in response. A sharp kick to his foot proved pointless although you knew that already. You also knew that he'd simply have to turn his limitless on and you wouldn't even be able to push him either. He never did that around you...
"At least let me apologize." He begged but his voice was whiny and desperate. You wanted to kick him in the balls for standing there begging to apologize.
"Apologize? We're way past apologies you ass." You retorted
"you're right. So then can i go back to my original request? Let me explain myself. Please." He spoke softly and you looked up at him, blindfold covering those eyes of his and a frown made its way to your lips.
"Let me see your eyes." You said
"huh?" He asked glumly
"In all my years of knowing you, Satoru. I've never seen your eyes. I know why you cover them but right now, I don't give a fuck. Show me your eyes and I'll hear you out." You spat harshly and a long pause filled the air. The only sound that could be heard was a dog barking in the distance. Satoru let out a breathy chuckle before sliding down his blindfold to reveal piercing blue eyes that seemed to glow in the dim light. Wow...He really was beautiful...
Fuck
You sighed and stepped aside. You were a woman of your word at the end of the day. Satoru smiled and kicked his shoes off at your front door before stepping inside. Your heart hammered in your chest as you noticed his white hair had fallen over his forehead and when he looked at you, you felt whole again.
Fuck...
"Do you um...want a drink?" You asked shakily...Wanting to break the silence in anyway you could.
"No, thank you. Mind if I sit?" He asked and you shrugged in response.
Satoru flashed that warm smile of his that ripped a hole right through you and only seemed amplified by the fact that you could see his eyes. He sat down on the couch like it was the most normal thing in the world. Days had been spent on this couch with him at one point in your life, playing video games, watching movies or letting him bend you over the arm while he fucked your brains out. The latter made your panties feel damp.
"You gonna sit down?" He asked and you scoffed at the audacity of him asking you to sit down in your own apartment.
"I'd rather stand." You replied and you suddenly felt too exposed standing in front of him wearing only your pj's. Your thin, grey tank top and thin pyjama shorts did nothing to hide your body. Besides, you wore no bra and your hardened nipples were clearly visible beneath the fabric.
"First off, let me start by saying...I'm sorry." Satoru said as he leaned forward to gaze up at you.
"First off...No. you don't get to say that." You replied but to your surprise, Satoru continued to talk
"I know I hurt you in a bad way. I feel terrible for pushing you away." He said and then he looked away from you. Those blue eyes fixated on his feet as he spoke. You wanted to shout at him, tell him to look at you but you let him speak.
"I've had a lot of time to think about my actions, I want you in my life...I can't waste a second without you in my life..if that means we go back to the way things used to be then so be it. As long as you're with me, I don't give a crap about anything else." He said and when he looked back up at you his eyes were glowing even brighter than they were before. Your heart melted at his words but how could you forgive him?
"I miss our late night chats, I miss when we used to get awful junk food together, I miss your good morning texts but honestly...I just miss...you." When he spoke you felt his words tear right through you.
"Toru..." You said shakily, what could you say? You'd missed him too but...you were angry with him.
"I know, I'm the one who pushed you away. I got scared. I'm a coward, closeness scares me and when you and I were getting closer each day I didn't know what to do with that. That's a terrible excuse but it's the truth.
"Toru, please..." You said but he just kept talking
"I'll do anything to have you in my life again, I can't spend another minute without you. I promise you that I never meant to hurt you." He kept going and a wave of emotions flowed through you all at once. Rage, confusing, lust and something you wouldn't dare name. You lurched forward and straddled his hips with one swift movement. In a second, you collided your lips with his and inhaled deeply. His scent was as infuriatingly pleasant as it always was and his lips were as smooth as usual. He made a startled sound but it wasn't long before he relaxed into the kiss.
When you pulled away a string of saliva connected you temporarily before snapping.
"I missed you...Asshole."
***
Despite your better judgement, the two of you made your way clumsily to the bedroom. His hands were all over you and any time you walked too far ahead of him, he was pulling you back into his arms. Soft kisses were being placed on your forehead and cheek and you were giggling at the feeling of his hands on your hips. It felt right and wrong all at once but it felt familiar. When he got you on the bed something flipped, he couldn't move fast enough and you could feel his cock throbbing in his pants. Usually this was the part where he told you to roll over and arch your back for him but he didn't do that.
He wasted no time in yanking down your pyjama bottoms and panties and when he slid down the front of his pants to loosen his cock you felt your mouth watering. He slotted his body in between your thighs and with one, rough thrust he was inside. Searing pain shot through your body at the stretch and it wasn't the good stretch that came with having sex with him.
A high pitched yelp made him stop in his tracks. You'd never seen that look in his eyes before.
"Did I hurt you?" He asked softly
"Yeah...I'm.sorry..." You admitted
"Why are you apologizing?" He asked and when he pulled himself out a wave of relief flowed through you. You wanted nothing more than to lie there and let him fuck you but part of you knew that you shouldn't.
A gentle hand cupped your face softly
"Are you okay?" He asked
"Yes 'm fine. I really did...want to have sex with you I just... I think my body needs more prepping. It's been a while. Usually you...finger me first." You replied with a shy smile.
"Besides...we've never fucked from this angle before." You admitted
"I was too eager, I'm sorry. Let me make it up to you?" He asked
"How?" You asked
"Want me to...Go down on you?" Satoru asked with a grin and your pussy fluttered at his words.
"Admittedly I've...never gone down on anyone before though but if you're willing to give me some direction..." He said and his grin refused to leave his lips.
"Nobody's ever gone down on me before, you know that." You reminded him, you'd spoken to him in the past about your desire to have someone eat your pussy but he'd always been afraid to 'mess it up'.
"Well, let's learn together...hmm?" He purred and sat up so he was leaning back against his heels.
"Take your shirt off, I wanna be able to play with those tits while I eat your pussy." He said while looking down at you like you were his meal. You clenched at the crudeness of his words but you obeyed his request.
Sitting up just enough to lift your shirt off your body, you tossed it to the side and Satoru groaned in response while sliding his own shirt up and over his head. Before you could lie your head back down he captured your lips in a wet kiss. His tongue probed for entrance and slipped inside.
He broke the kiss with a shudder.
"You ready?" He asked with his face still inches away from yours. You nodded eagerly
"If you want me to stop, tell me. I don't want to make you uncomfortable, I want you to feel amazing." He muttered and when he received another eager nod from you he began lowering himself down your body. His lips were on your neck first, kissing on the soft skin and sending goosebumps down your body. He'd never taken his time with you before, usually you didn't mind but this felt right.
He descended down your body, kissing you all over and when he reached your tits he latched his lips on the nipple closest to him. A gasp fell from you as he sucked with vigor, just enough to leave you wanting more before releasing it with a pop.
He continued lower and lower, his lips placing soft kisses the entire time.
He kept going until he was level with your pussy which clenched in anticipation.
He swiped his tongue along your slid experimentally and you gasped at the warmth of his tongue. It felt better than you could've ever imagined. His tongue slid inside to gather up your arousal and when it found your clit your back arched instinctively. His tongue circled around your clit with precision, of course he was good at eating pussy for his first time...he was Satoru Gojo.
He slid one long finger inside you without removing his tongue from your clit.
"Toru..." You whined and your fingers found their way into his white hair. You combed through it with your fingers while he assaulted your clit with his tongue. A second finger found its way into your entrance and he curled them juuuust right.
"Toru...heh...you're supposed to be...e...eating my pussy not fingering me." You groaned and with a cruel smile on his face Satoru removed his fingers and sucked harshly on your clit. His tongue found itself way inside you again and the way he explored your cunt with his tongue made you squirm. He switched between tongue fucking you and sucking your clit and load moans fell from your parted lips.
"Just like that..." you begged and pleaded, bucking your hips to meet his lips further and twitching under his touch.
Satoru groaned into your cunt, causing a squeal from you.
A coil built up and built up inside you as he swirled his tongue around your cunt. It felt as if he was trying to dive in, tongue first and never leave.
"You close? Cum on my tongue, princess." Satoru said in between swipes of his tongue and that's all it took for the coil to snap. Your orgasm ripped through you and your thighs closed around his head. Your pussy pulsed, clenched and gushed all around him while he tongue fucked you through it.
When Satoru looked up at you, his face drenched in your cum and arousal you let out a long drawn out sigh.
"I don't think you're fully prepared yet, princess." He said and when he dived back into your overly sensitive cunt you knew you were in for a long night but you wouldn't ask for anything different.
゛cw : 18+, gunplay, fear play, degradation, afab!fem!reader, descriptions of spit/saliva (in case it’s not your cup of tea) ִֶָ ་༘ ࿐
The leather of his chair groans as he shifts his weight, loose and entirely unbothered. You’re right between his thighs, knees digging into the floor, staring up at that sharp, jagged scar cutting through the corner of his grin.
“C’mon, doll,” Toji rumbles, his voice a low, gravelly vibration that hits you right in the chest. “Suck it like you'd suck my cock.”
Before you can even catch your breath, the cold, heavy steel of the barrel slides in. He doesn't jam it, instead, he guides it in with heavy-handed pressure that forces your jaw to slacken, dropping low to keep the rigid metal from clashing against your teeth. He’s leaning down just enough to watch your eyes water, taking his sweet time as he coaxes the muzzle deeper, letting the freezing steel tickle right against your uvula until a helpless shudder ripples through you.
He lets out a lazy, amused huff, watching the way you flinch and wince around the metal.
“Is that how you’d take me? Hm?” Toji purrs, a dirty, mocking edge bleeding into his tone. “Thought I already gave that pretty throat a lesson on how to swallow me whole.”
His thumb catches the hammer, clicking it back with a slow snick. Your heart hammers against your ribs at the sound of the bullet locking into place. The gun resting between your glossy lips is live now, cocked and heavy, and his finger is just idling on the trigger, resting there like he hasn't a care in the world. He’s careless about it, slumping back into the leather with a nonchalant shrug, his dark eyes tracking the frantic flutter of your lashes with a lazy and crooked smirk. He likes the worry in your eyes; it feeds into his ego.
“You did…” you murmur, the words coming out thick and wet as you try to tilt your head back just a fraction to breathe.
“That right? Then show me,” Toji grunts.
He reaches up, popping a cigarette between his lips and flicking a lighter. He sucks the smoke deep into his chest, blowing the white, toxic plume straight down at your face, smelling like cheap tobacco.
Your eyes sting, but you don't pull away. You take a shaky breath, letting your jaw hang loose before lolling your tongue out. You press the flat of it hard against the underside of the barrel, giving the cold metal a long and broad stroke from the base to the muzzle. You slick it up, painting it with thick, shiny drool until the steel is glistening under the dim room lights.
Toji watches the spit string from the gun to your lower lip, a low, satisfied hum vibrating in his throat as his grip on the piece tightens just enough to steer you.
“There ya go,” he mutters, the cigarette bouncing on his lip as he nudges the wet barrel back past your teeth. “Told you you knew how to do it. Now take it all.”
even after he started dating you, the two of you would get intimate every few nights, late night kisses that led into nothing, or fingering you until you were satisfied.
it’s not like he didn’t want to have sex with you, it’s that most days would leave him exhausted and wanting to do nothing but lay in your arms.
but because he didn’t initiate sex often didn’t mean he doesn’t love it.
he couldn’t help it, your pussy was almost too good. he could spend an entire day buried inside of you if you’d let him. the way your walls would clench and spasm around him whenever he’d praise you, how easily you’d get wet for him, how good you tasted, it had him hooked.
and whenever you’d have sex, he always got a bit carried away.
your face is smushed into the pillows, moans stifled by the fabric as your back curved impossibly in a mean arch to accommodate megumi’s deep, punishing thrusts. his hands anchored onto your hips, pulling you back every time he pressed deeper into your soaked cunt.
“you feel so fucking good—shit.” he moaned quietly, voice clipped in an attempt to hide exactly how needy he was for you right now. “pussy’s squeezing so tight around me.” he slurred, eyes trained on where he had you split open, slick coating his dick obscenely.
he leaned over you further, his warm breath tickling the back of your neck as he pressed small, needy kisses on your damp skin. you squirmed underneath him, whining into the pillow as his tip prodded your sweet spot with dizzying precision.
the slick sound of skin meeting skin filled the room, making a mess of the sheets as your arousal mixed with his pre cum, dripping down your thighs and making each thrust ring with a rhythmic squelch.
his hands roamed restlessly along your body, squeezing at any of your plush skin he could grab at, his cock fucking into you harder as he teasingly licked you neck, practically groaning into you ear from the salty taste.
his thrusts were mind numbing, leaving you in a pleasured daze as you gripped the sheets beneath you, knuckles almost turning white as your walls sucked him deeper with every press forward.
his hands trailed beneath you, sliding up to grope your tit, hips faltering as he squeezed at the supple skin, his other hand rubbing soothing circles on your puffy, sensitive clit.
“practically milking me…pussy’s gonna kill me..” he mumbled mindlessly, hand quickly moving from your tit to around your neck, pulling you up with him, flush to his chest as hid thrusts grew impossibly faster.
his bicep wrapped around you, putting you into a dizzying headlock as his hips clapped into yours. his hand that was on your clit reached for your tit once more, smearing your slick along your perked nipple as he moaned into your ear.
the new angle had him fucking into you deeper, his arm cutting off your airflow making your cunt squeeze and grip around his pistioning cock as you struggled to breathe. your hands gripped onto his muscles, nails digging into his skin as your moans bounced off the walls.
he pressed a messy kiss on your cheek, fingers pulling and teasing at your nipple as he completely lost himself in your pussy, needy moans slipping from his lips no matter how much he fought to keep them in.
you’re practically creaming around him at this point, his cock pulling moans and whines from you until your voice grew raw. he always fucked you good, but this was something you’ve never experienced before. you could hardly even think, head dizzy and filled with nothing but your pretty boyfriend that’s about to make you cum.
you clawed at his arm, overwhelmed as his fingers drifted back down to your pulsating clit, rubbing fast, messy circles once more as he mumbled sweet, almost incoherent praises into your ear.
“megumi!—” you whined, eyes rolling back behind closed eyelids as your walls spasmed around his cock, orgasm building warm and steady inside your core. he hips stuttered, pre leaking inside you messily as fought not to cum just from hearing you moan his name.
he fucked into you deeper, leaving another soft kiss against your cheek with a hum. “i know baby, i know…just feel good for me. wanna feel you cum.” he slurred fingers rubbing your clit so fast they almost slid off.
your moans grew higher in pitch, white hot pleasure tightening as megumi finally pushed you over the edge, gasping as your came around him. your walls squeezed rhythmically, pussy milking him for everything he’s worth as you cum soaked his thighs and sheets.
his thrusts completely lost rhythm, hips fucking into off instinct as he chased the pleasure your pussy was bringing him. he let out a ragged moan, cum spilling into you with every thrust, fucking his seed into you deeper as spurt after spurt filled you to the brim.
the both of you shook, intense orgasms leaving you completely breathless as megumi lessened his headlock, laying you back gently onto the bed. your face rested into the pillows, megumi’s hand trailing soothingly down your back, kneading your supple skin to help you come back down from your high.
he pulled out with a hiss, both of you whining from the loss as he flipped you onto you back gently, his cum beginning to spill from your obscenely as he kissed you softly.
megumi may not have a high sex drive, but he makes up for it whenever he gets to have you like this.
a/n: happy pride to all my fellow sapphics (and everybody in-between <33)
more like this
Glass clinks against your nails as you absentmindedly wrap your hand around the stem of the bottle. Your apartment feels cosier like this, the world outside blocked out by your wine haze and the gauzy curtains, Shoko’s voice murmuring across to you as she happily sips her drink.
You sigh dreamily as the wine slips down your throat smoothly. “God, I’ve missed you, Sho.”
She laughs in response. “I missed you too, pretty. Blame Gojo for getting injured and making me stay late.” You roll your eyes theatrically, setting your glass down to softly trace the soft skin of her palm. “I still can’t believe you can just… do that with your hands. It’s amazing, Sho.”
She raises an eyebrow as her head tilts, shiny brown hair waterfalling over her shoulder, the skin exposed beyond her tank top. Her work clothes have long since been discarded into the wash, lab coat hung up inside the cupboard. “Oh? Tell me more.”
You know she’s only half serious, but the infliction in her tone makes you shiver. “Mmm…” your fingers keep tracing the lines on her hand. “And I love the way you don’t brag about it too much, either, you just do it. You’re so dedicated. And…”
Your reverence continues as your hands trail from her hands to her waist, Shoko’s glass of wine long forgotten beside yours as she lets the world go a little fuzzy around the edges. But not you, not as you crawl up on top of her and press your mouth to hers.
You’re loosely straddling her, thighs parted around her lap as gravity takes it’s course to allow you to slip your tongue into her mouth. She’s pleasantly surprised, and the moan she lets out is enough to tell you; soft puffs of breath get caught between thirsty nips of your teeth.
Shoko kisses back, lips plump and a little stained from the wine as she sits up and looks at you expectantly. You lie one last kiss to her beauty mark then adjust yourself how she wants- how you know she wants, after so many reruns of this same routine. And yet, you never get bored.
You couldn’t get bored- it’d be impossible, when she lifts up her thigh between your spreads legs and grabs your hips to drag you forwards. A gasp slips out instantly as your clit presses to her smooth skin beneath the loungewear she’s sporting, floaty shorts that are probably yours anyway.
“You can do it.” She murmurs against your earlobe, trailing her hand from your hip to pull your bottom lip down. You’re already dazed as she touches you, messily rocking your cunt back and forth.
“That’s…” you breathe, head tipping forwards into her neck, “that feels nice.”
She laughs and the breath ruffles your skin, goosebumps springing up. “Mmm, I can tell.”
It doesn’t take a genius to know she’s referring to the damp spot on your panties, slick pooling frustratedly in the gusset as you fight for friction on her leg. It’s a good thing too, because you’re already dizzy from the wine and her touch isn’t helping.
Your girlfriend’s hands slide from your hips- they’re moving on their own now, bucking desperately- to pull your shirt away and toss it to the side. She grins, eyes heavy but no less reverent, as she lowers her mouth to kiss across the newly exposed flesh.
Your tits are spilling prettily from the bra cupping them, chest heaving as your hips stutter along her thigh. “Oh, fuck, Sho-“ you mewl, gripping her scalp when she wraps her lips around your nipple and tugs down the undergarment.
Maybe it’s her teeth on your skin or the way she lifts her thigh up to rub against your soaked skin. Maybe it’s the wine simmering in your bloodstream and the fuzziness of your eyesight. Maybe it’s the fact you’ve been worked up since she uncorked the bottle with dexterous fingers and your mind drifted to them inside you.
“Ohmygod-“
Whatever it is, it makes your back curl outwards and shove your tits closer into her chest as the seam of your underwear catches justttt right and you cum on her thigh, legs shaking and your cheeks brightened.
“There you go.” She says lowly, proudly, pressing a final kiss to your marked-up tits and collarbone before drawing back to gently thumb your face; the action draws you back into consciousness, control of your own body, and you lean forwards to connect your tongue with hers.
It’s messy, to say the least. You’re still shaky and uncoordinated from your orgasm, aftershocks buzzing through you when she pinches at your nipple briefly; your whole body shudders, but her mouth coaxes you back to reality as you pull apart for air and gaze at her.
She’s so pretty. Her lashes are dark around her honeyed eyes, dusted with desire and adoration as her hands hold you. Shoko’s hair is mussed from your fingers, soft brown tangling around your palms as you gently lift her shirt away, too.
You giggle against her mouth. “Lie back.”
Her lips curl against yours. “Why should I?” She’s joking- her elbows are already turning, lowering her back against the comfy couch cushions as your fingers twist into the waistband of her shorts and gently shimmy them down her slender legs.
A trail of kisses is planted along her skin first, adoration bottled up in every slide of your mouth against her; her calves, thighs, hips- nowhere is exempt, and you can tell it’s working her up by the way she sighs and tangles her fingers in your hair.
“Don’t tease.” She mutters, although her voice is already strained. You smile, press one final kiss to her inner thigh, and clamp your mouth between her thighs. She moans breathily, and the sound makes you gasp into her in a cycle that only serves to make Shoko tremble above you.
Usually, she’s quiet anyway. But then it’s calculated silence, more like she’s deciding if the speech is worth her time or not- however, what you do to her is beyond the words she wouldn’t be able to choke out if she tried.
“Shit.” She breathes, rubbing soothing little circles on your scalp with her nails as you lick through the dampness flooding her skin. You’re enjoying this, having her collapse above you when your lips enclose around her clit and suck just a little on the right side of harsh.
“Sho…” you moan, pulling back enough to slide in two of your fingers, “you’re so pretty right now.”
Her hips buck upwards involuntarily, searching for the beautiful friction of your fingerpads against her insides; you twist and crook them in the way you know she likes, tongue carding across her clit, and the noise she makes is rewarding- to say the least.
It’s high and shattered, choked out between moans breathier than any others you’ve heard so far, mixed somehow with a little whisper of your name as you gaze up into her eyes.
You pull back, lips glossy with her until you swipe it away with your tongue. You’re as dazed as she is, body soft and naked above her as Shoko grips you up to rest on her skin. “Love you.” She murmurs quietly, legs tangling with yours on the couch as cushions fall ignored to the floor.
“Mm.” You agree lazily, kissing absentmindedly across her face. “Love you too, Sho. Have for a while.”
She laughs, tracing the curve of your back. “You didn’t finish your wine.”
You’re sitting back on your haunches to grab the bottle and refill your glass when you realise Shoko’s still staring at you. Her eyes are tracing the nakedness of your body, over the way your tits are marked up and your panties are nowhere to be seen- but she isn’t exactly doing it lustfully.
Of course, that makes up a little part of her obvious reverence- but it’s more the fact it’s you. That you’re both here like this, comfortable enough to fuck each other to orgasm and then go back to drinking wine, naked- like nothing happened.
She reaches for her glass and smiles around the rim.
Like he’s so mean while giving you the best orgasm of your life, sitting you up perfectly in his lap, shaking uncontrollably and hanging onto him like he’ll stop and wait for you. Softly shushing your cries. “It’s okay…just a little bit longer..” and you would still sit in his arms waiting for him. Your vaginal walls only feel a warm boiling surge of cum churn in your stomach. And cum creamy out your pussy. Leaking so much white onto his fingers. The fluid of you. He takes his fingers from between your legs and then licks and sucks them off..but he looked down at you as he did it. Even moaning afterwards then kissing you as if sharing a sweet candy. Pulling away from the kiss then kissing your clit too. He’s a savory man of his meals and you come with that. Not just savoring your taste but the moment and the sight. He’s so suffocating and not in a bad way. Who would he be to deny his pretty girl a sweet orgasm? Then he eats you out. It feels so amazing. He eats you until you sob his name over and over again. Until you’re satisfied or if he’s satisfied. And if he’s not he keeps going.
Until your thrashing at his head trying to push his head away because your poor body couldn’t handle it. Reader I pray for your body sometimes cause he needs you.
disclaimer ⋆.˚ my works are purely fiction with all events occurring between 21+ consenting adults
right so since i'm a greedy WHORE i've been thinking about yuta and toge sharing you. and!! AND!! with yuta's copying technique... oh boy
i just imagine the three of you sitting at a bar, having a laugh and a few drinks. you've been best friends for a long time, and honestly, you're all lowkey down bad for each other but just haven't admitted it yet.
you slowly start dropping little hints to each other throughout the evening. not too much, though. the next time you three hangout, a few more secrets are spilled. and so on.
one night, the three of you are in your apartment, cuddled on the couch together and watching some stupid comedy film you chose at random. at some point, the scene changes into a threesome situation, and though its comical given the movie's theme, it had the three of you thinking...
and suddenly remembering your drunk confessions of wanting each other.
you're all staring at one another, not saying anything, just flickering your gaze over each others bodies. you suddenly recognize how sculpted both yuta and toge are. they can't decide whether they want to stare at you lips, chest, or thighs.
you fumble with the remote to turn off the tv as toge's lips close in on yours, tongue sliding heatedly into your mouth. he lets out a hum of satisfaction right before you feel yuta pulling at your waistband.
now, you're moaning uncontrollably, yuta's tongue slurping at your cunt so filthily, and toge's sucking and biting on your nipples desperately as his hands run all along your torso.
you don't even remember when you got there, but now you're in the bedroom, breaking the bed, toge fucking you into oblivion whilst yuta fucks your mouth with his cock. he's whimpering, one hand grabbing the sheets, the other grips your hair.
your eyes are watering, body feeling so overwhelmingingly full and overstimulated that you're about to lose it.
"fuck, i-"
"don't come."
toge's voice is sharp and demanding. your body freezes, your orgasm leaving you in an instant- but it still feels like you're about to break.
he looks at yuta, watching how you take his cock so well, smirking as he then stares you dead in the eyes and directs his commanding whispers towards yuta, "fill her mouth."
yuta growls, spilling his seed down your throat, your eyes rolling as you take all of him proudly.
toge's still moving in and out of you with no intention of stopping, hands gripping your waist as he slams into your warm walls.
yuta shudders, slowly pulling himself out of you with a wicked grin, leaning down to kiss you hard and wet on the mouth before sitting back on his knees to watch you and toge.
his arms are crossed, face smug, parting his lips to speak. you gaze at him, eyes glassy as your body shifts along the bed from toge's ardent thrusts. you notice the cursed speech marks appearing on yuta's cheeks.
oh, fuck.
he licks his lips, watching you intensely, "come," he says, low and raspy.
your throat breaks, but before you can push over the edge, toge speaks again.
"stop."
you cry, body begging for release, eyes rolling, shaking violently as if you actually had come when you hadn't yet.
"so, that's what we're doing?" yuta chuckles, smirking at toge.
toge smiles darkly, nodding in agreement.
"p-please," you whine, unsure if you can take anymore. you were so fucking close.
the two of them look at you, eyes lowered and plotting. "no," they say in unison.
so, as you can imagine, they continued their game of cat and mouse, telling you to come, then telling you to stop repeatedly until they felt like you'd suffered enough.
when they finally let you have it, your scream nearly shattered the bedroom window, throat croaking and body squirming so aggressively you almost fell onto the floor.
"come."
"again."
"come."
"again."
you have no idea how many orgams you had, you lost track. all you knew is that you were utterly destroyed by the end of it.
snowghoul
vaporwave
romaincrisis
baratheonpilled
jacobvanloon
