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[kamiflix]

▶︎ Generous (starring . various jjk men)

synopsis . How watching a movie with your roommate goes wrong. pairings (separate) . Toji x f!reader, Choso x f!reader, Gojo x f!reader, Nanami x f!reader. content . afab!reader, non-curse au, unprotected sex, dry humping, degrading, praise, dirty talk, filth, pussy slapping, tw: spitting, they’re all pervs, heavy tension, pet names, pining, men losing their confidence once they feel you, submissive men, taunting, cockwarming, manhandling, rough sex, teasing, begging, etc.

word count . 9.6k || author's note: doja release the full song pls </3 banner art from “Kubitsuri Danshi to Nikushoku Joshi” (this is a slightly revised repost)

☆ Toji Fushiguro — "There's a sex scene coming up."

The first thing you do is laugh at the man. He told you that as if you hadn't seen a thousand sex scenes before.

Rolling your eyes, you barely move in your seat, "So?" You huff back to your awfully smug roommate.

Now, you and Toji get along relatively well. The attraction between the two of you is noticeably mutual so it doesn't fully surprise you that he felt the need to announce the next part of the movie to you. The two characters were already slopping each other's faces up so it was pretty obvious where things were going.

As such, that doesn't exactly prepare you for the next thing your roommate decides to say to you.

"We should recreate it," Toji suggests, completely catching you off guard.

You and him have done… things before but, never sex. Or at least, you’ve never had his cock inside you. Maybe you’ve sucked him off once or twice and maybe he’s returned the favor two or, six times but—who’s keeping track of all that? The point is, you’ve never had traditional sex with the guy.

He was more of your roommate-with-benefits at the end of the day, if you needed someone to help you get off after a long and stressful day, Toji was offering himself to you and the same vice versa. 

So when he suggests recreating a sex scene with you, the last thing you expected was what the actual scene itself was…

“Well, what is it?” You ask curiously, turning your head to look up and the man who was already right beside you.

Toji tips his head to the side and keeps his eyes focused on the screen, “Watch it and see for yourself.”

Feeling slightly annoyed by how he suggested something to you only to not explain what it is he wants to do, you just turn back to the TV and do just that—watching as the movie plays out.

You think you’re turned on rather quickly once the two character on screen start fucking like goddamn rabbits—position after position, moan after moan, and noticeably rough sex occurring onscreen. There’s one position in particular that Toji nudges you at, to which your eyes widen and you tense up.

The man on screen has his partner in a headlock as they fuck them from behind. All you can do is bat your lashes as the scene with that position plays out far longer than the others, words of filth being muttered and the moans sounding awfully real.

Your mouth opens to ask your roommate something but he’s already in your ear before you get the chance to, “Yeah, I wanna try that with ya’,” Toji whispers.

A wave of heat flashes over your entire body and you’re squeezing your legs together at the thought alone. Toji behind you like that, shoving his fat angry cock inside you while his beefy arm constricts around your throat, limiting air from you and—

Yeah, you weren’t shying away from that offer, even though you had your fears.

“T-Toji, you wanna-, hah, you wanna put me in a headlock?” You sputter out in surprise, “We’ve never even had sex in a normal position… I don’t think I can take-”

“You can,” He cuts off rudely, “Jus’ gotta let me prep you. And I’ll be gentle,” He murmurs to you, even though you know that’s a lie, “…’Til you get used to me.”

You chuckle nervously, “I dunno… You-,” A sigh slips from your lips, “You wanna do this now?”

He nods, “Mhm,” Then his hand is moving to yours and he pulls your touch over to his crotch, “Got hard jus’ thinking about it.”

Instinctively, your hand moves to feel around and your fingers shape around his erection, cupping his stupidly hard cock and feeling him throb beneath your touch. You gulp before you glance down at your hand and the way it looks sliding down along his length against his sweats, outlining his shape with your touch and pulling your lower lip into your mouth at the thought.

You remember how difficult it was to fit the guy in your throat so you could only imagine him stretching your pussy open, giving you long and deep thrusts just so you could get used to him, and the way he’d force you to feel every thick inch of his.

“You’re droolin’,” Toji points out suddenly as he brings a hand to your face and swipes his calloused thumb across the corner of your lips, bringing his finger to his mouth moments later, “Figured you’d like this just as much as me but look atcha’,” He licks whatever taste from your mouth he got off of his thumb. “A mess already, tsk.” He teases.

You’re just sitting there with your eyes still on his cock straining against his sweatpants, trying to mentally prepare yourself to have that inside you. You swallow thickly, “Toji…”

“Hm?” He hums lowly with a slight cock of his head.

You bring your gaze up to him and his green eyes are already low on yours, “I wanna do it.”

Famous last words…

The smirk that stretched across his scared lips was probably one of the most sexy looks you’ve ever seen on the man. Not to mention the immediate jump of his cock in reaction to your agreement.

And in God knows how many minutes, your clothes were scattered on the floor and he had you bent over on the couch as he prepped you with his fingers. Toji knows how big his dick is– hell, he’s a little too aware of it, so he had to make sure you were extra soaked for him.

Talking to you in that rasp and deep tone of his, “I think you can take me jus’ fine,” He murmurs to you, fucking his fingertips deeper inside yo u with each passing second, “You’re already takin’ three of my fingers so, what’s the difference?”

You moan against the couch cushion your cheek is currently resting against, “Mgh, your cock i-is waaay bigger,” You admit in a horny little slur.

Of course he smiles at that, glad you can’t see his face right now because your words only stroke his ego more and more, “Is it?” As Toji asks you that, he drags his fingers out of you, moving to suck your most recent orgasm off of them before repositioning himself behind you. Then he shrugs, “I dunno, I don’t think there’s that much of a difference..”

He’s still talking but you’re refusing to believe a thing he says. You’ve had your fair share of studying his cock up close so you already knew how he’d feel inside you. Even so, you feel a glob of spit land on your cunt and it makes you flinch out of your thoughts. After that is followed by something fat and hard pressing in between your folds.

The arch in your back furthers and your lips part, “Toji?” You whisper.

A big hand comes down on your ass before he’s gripping onto you, “Mhm, that’s me you feel,” He teases, his other hand busy rubbing his cockhead up and down your sopping slit.

You think a moan leaves your lips already at the mere tease of his cock, “I don’t think-”

“You’ve been doin’ a little too much of that lately,” He huffs, lifting his tip from you before letting it smack against your pussy a few times and then smiling to himself at how wet you were, “Just let me take care of ya’, I'm not gonna hurt you unless you want me to, silly girl.”

A little mumbled curse is heard coming from your mouth but Toji’s only response to that is easing his hips forwards, squeezing his tip inside you slowly as he watches the way you turn your head to stuff your face into the cushion and your hands gripping onto the couch. Toji takes it slow at first, easing his tip in and out of you a few times until you relax a little.

Then he’s pushing an inch or two inside you and he can hear your muffled moans against the couch. Not to mention the way you move a hand back as if to push him away already.

Toji just rolls his eyes at that point, “I’m not even halfway in,” He chuckles, “Relax f’me.”

You try, you really do. It is a bit difficult but you try not to be so tense as he continues to push into you. It’s the first thrust that really had you gasping and holding onto the couch for dear life because after that, Toji repeats the action—drawing his hips all the way back before thrusting himself in fully, all the way to the hilt of your cunt. You’re practically clawing at the cushion below you and your eyes are tearing up from the sheer stretch of his cock.

You could feel him in every corner of your dripping cunt, his thick shaft leaving you gasping for air and his sharp hips clashing against your ass. You hardly register the groans he’s letting out or the curses about how tight you are.

His hands are everywhere on your ass as things start off slow, a few thrusts in and he feels your walls clamp around him before you’re cumming already. He hadn’t even gotten you into the position he wanted you in and you were already whining his name. Toji grips onto the fat of your ass, spreading you further for him as he watched his bulging angry cock ease in and out of you, your sloppy juices coating his veins and dripping all over the damn place.

The mess makes him smirk, “Fuckin’ filthy,” He hums. Then he’s leaning down and you feel your heart sink because after that, a surprisingly gentle hand is creeping around your neck before he lifts your face up. Getting a good look at you, he meets your gaze with a smirk before whispering, “You okay?”

The way he checks on you had your cunt squeezing around him again. “M-Mhm,” You mumble, mouth messy with drool and lashes coated with tears that’d yet to fall yet.

Toji tips his head to the side, still gently rocking his hips into yours and barely humping his cock in and out of you, “Ready to keep goin’?”

It takes you a second to agree to that but when you feel his tip brush against somewhere particularly sweet inside you, you nod eagerly, “Uhuh,” You murmur almost dumbly.

All he can do is smile and lean back up, “C’mere then,” Toji instructs. You follow suit and lean up with him. “Tip ya’ head back for me, here,” He’s still buried inches inside you but he’s instructing you with no problem, moving a hand to your chin to tip your head back, “Just keep lookin’ at me for a second, m'kay?”

You let out a shaky breath of air before keeping your eyes back on his, feeling and watching him lean closer to you and then slowly wrap an arm around your neck, making your breath hitch slightly.

“You sure you're ready for this, doll?” Toji asks as he soon has you take your eyes off of his so he can lock your head into place, “Might break ya’,” He teases.

Your hands move to feel his arm around your neck, caressing his skin before you smile a little, “That’s okay,” You whisper in response, your excitement getting the better of you, “You can break me a little, Toji.”

His hold on your head isn’t the tightest yet, since he doesn’t literally wanna choke you out but, it’s tight enough to where you can’t move and his next thrust has you gasping again. And then it all goes downhill from there because Toji swears you’ve only gotten tighter since he’s put you in this position and you’re so soaked that you’re drippin’ down your thighs.

He can’t help but get a little rough with you. The first few movements were merely experimental but the second you’re comfortable and start moaning for more, Toji’s pouring out a heavy groan right into your ear as he starts to really fuck you. 

The couch creaks and your cunt is so loud and messy as his heavy balls smack against you with each bruising thrust of his angry cock. You could feel him throbbing and pulsing deep inside you every time you uttered his name in pleasure. The position had you weak, your legs shaking within minutes and your nails scratching at his arm.

All as he whispered filthy things in your ear, “So fuckin’ messy for me,” He huffs, earnig a whine from you, “You like this, huh? Like bein’ my messy lil’ thing?”

“T-Toji, oh fu-uck, s’too much-,” You choke, feeling his arm tighten around you just to shut you up.

“You're takin’ it juuust fine, baby,” His tone is far to sweet for the way he’s bullying your pussy right now, stretching you and fucking you so full that it was getting hard to think.

His hips were harsh against yours, smack after smack, making your moans come out in a stutter and a slur as he murmured degrading little nicknames into your ear seconds later.

“Gonna cum for me again? I’ve already gotcha’ folded up like some whore-, mgh… it's the least you could do for me, doll,” Toji grunts into your ear, his swollen cockhead pounding right into where you need him most.

Your eyes practically roll to the back of your skull and you’re spasming, “Tojii, I c-can’t-, ah, hahh-, hnngh.. p-please,” You mewl, dewy slicks from your cunt glistening all over his fat cock that it even has him panting and losing his breath.

His lips are right against your ear, breath warm and dick throbbing wildly inside you with the way he doesn’t let up on you for even one moment, “One more, pretty. Jus’ gimme one more,” He whispers.

Your breath hitches and you can feel your orgasm building right back up, you were so close and he was fucking you just right. His hold on you gets a little tighter and he pinpoints his thrusts deeper against your sloppy pussy, the filthy squelches only growing louder and louder before you’re whimpering his name.

Toji kisses the tip of your ear softly—feeling the way your cunt just sloshes around his cock and making his eyes go back. You were squeezing him so tightly that it was almost hard to cram his cock into you. Your pussy was so damn heavenly that Toji felt lightheaded for a moment, despite you being the one getting choked out right now.

Before he knows it, he’s fucking a thick creamy load of cum inside you while grunting your name out through slightly gritted teeth. The way you were moaning and whining in return drove him crazy, the sight of your jaw dangling open, drool sliding down your chin, tears rolling down your face—the entire sight and feel of you had his head spinning in pleasure.

Which is exactly why he’s emptying himself into you while you milk him for all he’s worth. He doesn’t even realize he’s released you from that headlock until the sounds of your moans are muffled again. Toji barely remembers shoving your face down and pressing a hand into your arch before ramming whatever's left of his cum deeper inside you.

Then there was the way your legs were shaking and how filthy it was to watch his cum drip out of you as he pulled out. Oh, he was definitely having sex with you again after this.

☆ Choso Kamo — He's too attentive.

You're too focused on the way your favorite actor's busy on the screen going down on the love interest of the movie to realize that Choso's got his eyes everywhere except the TV.

He notices the way you're shifting in your seat, the thumb you bring up to your lips and the nail you nibble on anxiously as the sex scene ahead continues. Choso zones out from the fake slurps and forced moans from the TV, his eyes and ears completely focused on you and you only. Even when you let out a sigh as your thighs squeeze together, he notices.

And he doesn’t mean to stare at you but he couldn’t help it. What about this particular sex scene had you so squirmish? He’s watched them with you before but it was obvious this one was different. Was it the actor? Choso can’t help but glance at the TV to remind himself of who was in the movie, wondering if the big muscular pink-haired man on the TV was your type.

You were practically drooling at this point, hanging off of every word the man said all while Choso quickly put two and two together.

Clearing his throat, you flinch as if you’d been caught doing something you had no business doing, “You alright over there?” Choso hums.

You slowly turn your head to him and your lashes flutter as you pull your thoughts away from where they’d been previously, “U-Uhuh, yeah… Why?” You respond hesitantly.

You were far too caught up in the movie to have noticed how much Choso was paying attention. 

He shrugs, “You keep moving,” Choso points out before looking at the TV, “Is the scene making you uncomfortable or something?”

Your brows twist up, “What? N-No, not at all! It’s actually uh,” You had to pause for a second before you decide to tell him the truth, glancing back at your favorite actor on screen, “Well, that’s one of my favorite actors and the scene is pretty hot.”

“Oh,” Your roommate responds, nodding in acknowledgment, “You like guys like that?”

You snort, “Guys like what?”

“Tall, muscular, face tatts….” Choso lists carefully as he narrows his eyes on the actor ahead, “...Pink hair?”

You roll your eyes, “N-No, I just… Well, okay maybe that is kinda my type.” You’re slow to admit that because as soon as the words leave your lips, you’re looking at your roommate and realizing that aside from the hair color, he pretty much fits that description.

Choso turns his head to you and lifts his brows, “Yeah?” He huffs, smirking a bit, “You do know I basically just described myself, safe for the pink hair…”

“O-Okay… so?”

“So, I kinda resemble your type and your favorite actor.”

“Y’know, now that you mention in,” Your head tilts and you lean a bit closer to Choso, studying his facial features closer, “You two do look like you could be related.”

“Wait seriously?” Choso lets out a laugh, “If so that’s kinda funny since, just like him in this movie, I’ve never given anyone head.”

“You’ve never-,” You choke on whatever it is you were about to say as you realize what he just said. “Huh? You’ve never given anyone head?”

He shrugs, “No?”

And your curiosity practically spirals from there, “Have you had sex before?” You ask.

“Yeah,” Choso smirks at the immediate questions you have for him. “I’m not a virgin. But, well, my mouth is, I guess,” He explains steadily before looking to the TV again.

Your eyes remain fixated on his face, “Do you want to?”

“Want to,” His eyes trail right back over to you, “What?”

You lean in again, “Give someone head?”

“Are you offering?” Choso replies casually, licking his lips seconds afterwards. 

A smile spreads across your face and you try to flip it back onto him, “Nono, are you offering.”

He stares at you for a long moment, trying to figure out the right way to go about all this. Every muscle in his body was telling him to say yes because, technically, he was offering. He’d been offering silently ever since he first said something. You looked so focused on the damn TV that it almost irritated Choso, he could do whatever that actor’s doing ten times better.

…Even if he’s never done it before.

“Yeah,” Choso breathes out, not wanting to pass up on this opportunity in the slightest.

You gulp, “You-”

Before you get to finish, Choso’s shifting against your bed—maybe movie night in your room wasn’t the best idea. He’s moving closer to you and soon placing his hands on the bed at your sides as he brings his face close to yours. Your eyes are all wide and you’ve sat up completely, heart thumping in your chest at how close he’s gotten.

“Cho,” You whisper, watching the way his gaze changes, “You actually wanna-”

“I can do it,” He utters carefully as he places one hand on your thigh and slowly parts your legs for his body to fit in between, “I saw the way you’ve been looking at the screen anyway so, I know you’re worked up.”

“I-I’m not-,” You’re cut off yet again when Choso leans in and his lips brush over yours for a split second before he shifts to kiss your cheek.

Then he trails those soft little kisses over to your ear, “I’ve always wanted to try, y’know…”

“Try what?” You breathe, feeling his breath caress the crown of your ear.

“Pleasing someone with my tongue,” Choso explains, one of his legs sliding up in between yours up until he brushes against your core and you instinctively move a hand to hold onto his arm. To which he smirks, “And you’re needy for it so, just let me try.”

“I’m not needy for anything, I-” Again, he cuts you off. This time he just pushes his leg forward a bit so that he’s fully pressing against your clothed cunt, earning a pathetic little gasp from you.

“You were saying?” Choso taunts as he tips his head down to your neck.

You scoff, “Shut up.”

“Shut me up,” He huffs back before kissing your neck.

“Fine,” Is the last thing you said to him before the two of you started acting on your whims.

He doesn’t even remember what he was thinking or how he got to this point by the time he’s got his face buried between your thighs. He can hardly think of anything else aside from the glistening slick drooling out of your exposed cunt moments after he’d tugged your panties down. Choso swears he’s never seen anything this wet in his life, his eyes hungry as they study your pussy closely before he even thinks about touching you.

All while you lay before him, your legs held open by his big hands and your eyes low on the way he looked, staring at you so lewdly. For someone who’s never even done this before, he damn sure looked as though he were about to devour you like you were his last meal. 

“Shiiit,” Choso whispers as his head tilts along with the excessive dripping from your hole. He’s just watching your cunt twitch and ooze without him even touching you yet. Was his staring doing this to you? (It was). 

You gulp, “Don’t just stare, Cho…”

“But she’s so pretty,” He mumbles, almost in awe at the way your cunt only gets wetter, “And responsive… haven’t even touched her yet ‘nd she’s leaking for me.”

He feels the way your thighs try to closer together out of embarrassment but the steel grip he has on you wasn’t allowing that to happen anytime soon, especially as he finally leans in and does nothing more than plant a sloppy kiss against your even sloppier pussy. The wet little mwah that emits into the air as he pulls away slightly makes both you and him gasp.

“Choso,” You practically whine, “Please don’t tease.”

He licks his lips and glances up at you, “You gotta remember, I don’t really know what m’doing,” Choso mumbles in response while he presses his lips against your cunt once more.

Then, his tongue lulls out and he keeps his eyes on yours as he gets that first raw taste of you. His brows immediately twist up and his tongue slicks upwards as his lips shift to cup your cunt. Choso has no idea what he’s doing but you spasm a bit when he slurps your taste into his mouth and lets out a groan against you.

Completely clueless, Choso just does what he thinks would feel good for you after that and for whatever reason, it fucking works. He swears he’s never given head before but the way his tongue was lapping against you said something entirely different. He swirls the slipper pink muscle upward and he’s at your clit within a few moments, flicking the tip of his tongue against it before just toying with you using his mouth.

All as his eyes remained fixated on you and the way you moan whenever he does something right. It’s so sloppy the way he fucks his tongue inside your drooling hole, digging more and more of your taste out of you so he can get it all inside his mouth. Muttering small, “Tastes s’sweet,” against you as he works his lips and tongue.

Even whenever he pulls away for a few seconds, he just spits on your cunt to watch it get messier, smiles at the filthiness of it all, and then dives right back in. Your hand is soon to get lost in his hair and his usual messy ponytails come aloof with the way you tug and pull at him.

Choso worships your cunt, kiss after kiss, lick after lick, and groan after groan. At some point his hands move away from your thighs just so he can feel your legs close around his head as he shoves his tongue in deeper and the tip of his nose rubs against your clit.

“Mmmgh,” Choso grunts against your sopping hole, his eyes flickering back for a moment as you lifted your hip against his face.

He soon tugs his face away for a second just to slap his tongue against your pussy, making you whine in pleasure and call out his name, “Cho, oh fuck… are you sure y-you’ve never-”

“Uhuh,” He’s cutting off as he latches his mouth right back onto you, slobbering all over your cunt like it was the only thing keeping him sane and moaning against you. 

It’s a filthy mess in between your legs—hickies you hardly remember him leaving decorating your inner thighs, a bite mark or two spotted, sweat and saliva left just everywhere, a few splatters of his spit mixed with your juices, and most importantly, a very disheveled Choso feasting on you with not a care in the world.

You don’t even know if you cum, or how many times you do so because Choso doesn’t stop until you’re trembling underneath him. And because it was his first time, that took quite a while but he didn’t care. His jaw had started to hurt and he thinks his tongue was going numb for a second with how long he’d been in between your legs, slurping your pussy, and using nearly all of his face to please you.

You may not have known if you came but Choso did—swallowing everything you gave him down without a care in the world, letting out a whiney moan every time the slick slithered down his throat, and groaning in pleasure each time you came for him.

He wasn’t even talking as much as he thought he would be because he was too focused on your taste and getting more and more and more of it from you. 

Maybe next time you let him do this he’ll be a little more talkative but, for tonight, he had a secret intention of making you squirt—no matter how many hours that may take.

☆ Gojo Satoru — "Why're you sitting so far away?"

The moment you were hit with that infamous question, you knew things were going to go left. Of course, if anyone's hitting you with something so cliche mid-movie, it's Gojo freaking Satoru.

You give your roommate nothing more than a side glance from your eyes, noticing how all his attention is on you, "I'm not that far away, am I?"

Gojo weighs his head to the side, one muscular arm relaxed atop the back stretch of the couch as he cracks that annoying little smirk at you, "You're all the way over thereee," He whines before gesturing a hand to the distance between you and him.

The couch you were on could seat a total of six people and you were roughly an arms length away from the guy so you really didn't know what he expected from you.

All you can do is laugh at his childish antics, "Satoru, you said you wanted to watch a movie with me—not cuddle and watch a movie with me."

He wets his lips before smiling at you, "Well, maybe I want a lil' more now..." To which you scoff and he scooches a bit closer to you, “Plus, the movie’s gettin’ boring.”

You roll your eyes at the guy, “No, you’re just impatient. It’ll pick up in a second, give it some time, ‘Toru.”

God, he loved it when you used that nickname with him. Neither of you remember when you first started using it but you know he likes it and he knows the nickname makes his heart race every time you say it.

“You were seconds away from falling asleep before I said something,” Gojo argues. He’s still gradually scooting closer and closer to you but you don’t even mind it at this point.

He’s always been a man who doesn’t understand the concept of personal space anyway so this doesn’t surprise you in the slightest. Before you know it, the side of Gojo’s thigh is brushing against yours and his arm is right behind you, fingertips dancing near your shoulder.

“I was not,” You protest before finally giving him your full attention. Okay, maybe you had been falling asleep on the movie but you really just wanted a regular movie night with the guy.

…Not whatever it becomes within a few minutes. Because of course the second your eyes are meeting his, his gaze is down on your lips and he’s lowering his voice as if everything was going according to his plan.

Gojo scoffs, “Yeah you were. There’s no need to lie, sweets. If you were getting sleepy, I can think of a few things we can do that’ll keep you awake…”

You swallow and it takes everything in you not to shift away from him because the masculine scent of his expensive cologne is creeping into your nose and you can feel your body heating up simply because of how close he is to you. “Like what?” You practically whisper even though you knew where your question would lead.

And y’know what, you can’t even say you’re mad at where it leads because you’ve had your eyes on Gojo ever since you moved in with him. So when he bluntly offers himself to you with a swift hum of, “We could always fuck,” You’re left speechless for a moment.

Then he’s leaning in and you’re finally looking down at his lips, your breath stuttering with each inch of space that disappears between the two of you until his lips are practically on yours and you feel his skin brushing over you as he speaks.

“You can even keep watching your lil' movie while we do it,” Gojo whispers, “Just say the word and I’ll-“

“Okay,” You huff out faster than you have time to think.

Because who on God’s green earth would deny Gojo Satoru of sex? Especially when he’s so stupidly close to you and staring down at your lips like the lack of connection is driving him to the brink of insanity.

So as soon as your agreement hits his ears, his lips are on yours, and your arms are moving to wrap around his neck to keep him close.

It’s hot, heavy, and even a bit sloppy as he tugs your lips apart for his tongue to slither in. Once Gojo gets that little taste of you, he can’t get enough. Letting out a low grunt into your mouth as his tongue swipes at the corners and crevices of your mouth, hands moving to your waist and then your thigh just to urge you to hurry up and get on top of him, and his body quickly yearning for more and more of you as the seconds pass.

Then you’re on top of him and he’s letting out a groan as you straddle him, your weight plopping down on his crotch and making his hips buck up against you instinctively. Gojo’s pale veiny hands are grabbing a hold of your waist and he’s deepening the kiss with you, feeling eager and almost starved for more.

Pulling away with a messy little cobweb of saliva hanging in between your lips, he grins, “Why didn’t we do this sooner, huh?” Before you can answer, his hands are sliding down to your hips and he’s quick to guide your body against his, making you grind against his growing erection, “‘Know how many times I thought about this?” Gojo huffs.

All you can do is let out a soft pant that fans over his wet lips, “No but, you should tell me all about it while we fuck.”

Then you’re pushing your lips onto his again and his brows are twisting up in pleasure. Things were moving a bit fast but that didn’t stop the wild twitch of Gojo’s cock as your words registered to him.

Tell you about how he’s pictured you like this while he’s buried inside you, huh? Well, whatever his cute roommate wants, she’s sure to get from him.

A few sloppy kisses and teasing grinds later and the two of you are undressing one another. The movie was almost long forgotten until Gojo told you to turn around for him, he still wanted you to enjoy the movie you suggested. As such, he soon has your hands on his knees as you held yourself up, your back facing him, and your body bare above him safe for the lacy blue panties hugging your lower half.

And lord knows Gojo couldn’t hold back his smile when he caught sight of your panites. They matched his eyes. Surely that was no coincidence? Surely you put those on with the intention of this very scenario later playing out, right?

Gojo’s behind you shirtless by this point, his sweatpants messily tugged down just enough so that he could pull his cock out from the confines of his boxers—his blushing pink tip grazing your noticeably soaked panty clad cunt as he does so. He’s got one hand on your hip and the other tightly gripping the base of his thick cock, angling himself just enough so that he can caress your clothed pussy lips with his tip.

His bottom lip gets caught between his teeth as he watches himself slip in between your folds against the wet fabric of your panties. The slick from your cunt was leaking from that pretty lace you had on, glazing and coating his tip with a sexy mix of arousal soon sliding down his cock and causing you to let out the most heavenly little sound he’s ever heard leave your lips.

The noise snaps him out of his daze and he looks up to see your head turned to the side as you look back at him with a gaze of pure need. Gojo’s fat tip slips as his eyes meet yours and you feel him brush up against your clit, making your jaw drop slightly and your hips roll instinctively.

He wasn’t even touching you raw yet and you were already a needy mess. Gojo’s slow to glance down at where his cock is leaving sloppy kisses against your cunt, smirking at the sight all over again, “So wet,” He whispers, “Fuckin’ soaked f’me…”

It sounded as if he were talking to himself, his mind in some sort of daze the longer he rubbed himself against you. The tease of it all was driving you crazy. So much so that all you could do was arch your back a bit more for the man and attempt to grind yourself against his tip.

Your movement makes him groan and you watch as he slowly retracts his hands completely just to watch you lather his cockhead up with your arousal, the small squelches from the movement making his face and ears flush with red. 

“S-Shit,” Gojo breathes out. It was like all his confidence and cocky demeanor had flown out the window and, again, he wasn't even inside you yet.

You soon grow tired of the teasing and lift your hips a little, earning a whine from Gojo as your warmth is pulled away from him for less than a second. Then, his eyes were glued to your hand and the way you tug your soaked panties to the side, revealing that pretty pussy of yours to him and making his cock jump in reaction. 

Gojo couldn’t even try to lift his hips up to make his cock meet you once more because he was stuck in awe as you lowered yourself once more. Watching your pussy part over his tip was one thing in itself but then how fucking soft and wet you are makes his head fall back against the couch and a groan pour from his mouth.

You watch him move an arm to hold onto the back of the couch and his other hand grips onto the cushion beside him. His abs tense as you wiggle your hips against him, his cock just barely kissing your leaky entrance.

Hell, it almost makes you flinch when he moans, “Put it in,” Gojo pants, his entire body failing to move as the need for you overwhelms him, “Please,” He lets out a whine as you inch down on him ever so slightly, “F-Fuckin’ sit on it, baby-, sit on my cock, please? Wanna be inside you s-so bad.”

His hips twitch and he nearly lifts them just so he can sink the rest of his inches deep inside you— especially when you torture him and lift yourself, causing a brush of air to graze his tip where you two had previously been connected.

“Satoru…” You utter, watching his eyes flicker up to your face. “Did you just whine for me?”

Gojo’s quick to swallow whatever weak sound was about to leave his lips again due to the sultry tone of your voice. “N-No,” He huffs, trying to play off his moment of begging for you, “Course’ not… Just,” He gulps, “Just wanna feel you, c’mon.”

Now you’re the one smirking at him, “Beg for me again,” You whisper, to which a groan gets caught in the middle of his throat.

“What?” Gojo rasps, his body going rigid at your sudden command. Yeah, sure, he just begged for you but it’s different when you tell him to.

The way you chuckle at his confusion makes his body so unbelievably hot and flushed in embarrassment, “You heard me…” You purr, easing yourself back down and riding only his tip for a few seconds, “Beg for me, ‘Toru.”

Gojo’s jaw falls and his eyes drop to his cock again— precum was dripping all down along his veins and he was twitching to feel all of you, “Please?” He breathes out as his brows twist up, “I just…” His hips lift again and he tries to force himself up inside you, “Need it, sweetheart,” Gojo grunts before tossing his head back.

At that, you find yourself satisfied and you’re finally sinking down on his cock just like he wanted you to. Your eyes remain back on his face and the way his eyes roll back as an airy groan leaves his throat. 

“Fuuuck,” Gojo moans into the air, his bottom lip quivering at the way your pussy sinks down around him, your sloppy walls making the filthiest squelch the further down you go, up until you stop when he’s only half way in.

Which makes his breath hitch. All he can do is roll his head back into place and look at you, catching the gape look on your face, and the clear struggle your cunt was having. You’re so wet around him that your moisture is just oozing down what’s left of his cock that’s yet to be inside you. 

“Sweetheart, please,” Gojo pants, “Need you to sit all the way down,” He hums before moving his hands to your hips.

You let off a moan, “So big, ‘Toru…”

Every fiber of his being almost snapped his hips up into you at the sound of that. You had no idea the things you did to this man—letting out a moan like that, telling him how big he is, and using that goddamn nickname…

He can only nod, “Uhuh, I know, I know,” Then, Gojo’s attempting to collect himself because everytime he speaks in that low tone of his, your cunt is gripping onto his fat cock tighter, “J-Just-, hah, just take your time, sweets.”

That’s the last thing he wanted you to do because half of his cock was feeling absurdly neglected at the moment but, he couldn’t help but want to take things slow. After all, the sex was just to keep you from falling asleep, right?

As such, Gojo tightens his grasp on your hips and helps you ease down another inch or two— a hiss leaving his lips with the way your walls squeeze down on his cock.

“So fucking tight,” He breathes, “R-Relax, sweetheart… gonna make me cum before I even get all the way in.”

You start to lift yourself again as if to escape his thick inches squeezing into you, “S’too much, I-I can’t-“

He’s cutting you off and pulling you right back down with a groan, “Shhh, yes you can-, fuck, yes you can,” Gojo coos, leaning up and helping you sink onto him once more.

A moan of his name leaves your lips at the stretch of his cock, your eyes fluttering shut. Gojo’s steady to ease you all the way down until your cunt is meeting his heavy base, and both of you moan once he’s fully inside you.

You’re both panting in sync as you sit there with his throbbing cock inside you, his hardened tip kissing your sweet spot, and your walls clamping around him with every subtle movement of his hands or your hips.

You end up leaning back against his chest and Gojo buries his face into the crook of your neck, breathing hotly against your skin. His arms wrap around you and it was like he didn’t even need you to move yet. This was perfect for him. Just relishing in the warmth of your pussy for a few minutes, feeling every twitch and every squeeze whenever he kisses you was simply perfect.

The movie that’d been playing in front of the two of you is soon remembered as you return your attention back to it and keep Gojo’s cock sitting inside you with little to no movement for a while.

He was okay with that because, hell, part of him never saw himself even getting this far with you. Although, at some point, without him even saying anything, he feels your hips roll forward and a grunt is ripped from his mouth immediately.

Given his sound, you only grow encouraged to continue and barely lift your hips to bob your cunt up and down a few inches of his cock. The movement was minimal but it was enough for both you and him. Gojo’s hands dance up and down your sides. One moment he’s holding your waist and the next he’s slumping back against the couch and holding onto your hips, watching his cock disappear in and out of you as you ride him in earnest.

“Fuck me,” He ends up moaning. That alone has you bouncing on his cock within a few minutes.

Gojo’s usually so confident and suave with his words and actions but here he was moaning so prettily into the air due to the way you were riding him in reverse. Every roll of your hips and the way your sheeny slick made his cock glisten under the dim living room lighting had him gasping at some point.

He’s pretty sure even you forget about the movie at some point because you’re just throwing your ass back on him over and over again, the constant thwack of your rear against his toned pelvis as you plopped down on him was making his moans come out in a stutter.

You’re pretty sure that if you listened closely enough, you could hear the man choking out some small whimper at some point. But he masks that by giving your cunt one experimental thrust, earning a delicious moan from you.

And of course, it doesn’t stop there. He only continues after that, matching the way your cunt sinks down on him with heavy thrusts as he holds onto your hips for dear life.

“‘T-Toru, fuck, m’close,” You soon whisper.

He hardly hears you because he’s too busy trying not to cum inside you, “You feel so fuckin’ good-, God-, fuuck… s’too good,” Gojo babbles, completely pussydrunk at this point and struggling not to finish before you.

Your pussy’s just gushing around his shaft and he swears he can hardly think at some point. Maybe it was because he hadn’t had sex in a while, or maybe it was just you in general and the way you have the nerve to look back at him again and purposefully clamp your goopy walls down around his cock but, either way, Gojo can’t even warn you before he’s shooting a thick load of cum deep inside you.

One look from you and he was losing his damn mind, throwing his head back in both pleasure and embarrassment, fingertips trembling as his hips stutter, and a shaky groan slipping out from his lips while you just keep going.

Then he faintly hears your voice, “Did you just cum?”

All he can do is give you a hard lucid lil’ nod, “Uhuh,” He breathes, still cumming inside you like he had no care in the world.

His cum is warm against your insides, making his cock a creamy mess as you slide your pussy up and almost all the way off of him just for him to catch sight of the filthy mess he’d just made.

Gojo doesn’t even care at this point because all he does is slam you right back down, the squelch louder than ever and one of his hands snaking around you. He’s quick to bring two thick fingers to your clit and lean up to your ear, “Need you to cum for me now, p-please, I'm s-so fuckin’ embarassed,” He admits right against the shell of your eat hotly.

You can feel his desperation in the way his fingers roll messy and needy little circles around your sensitive bud. Then he’s whispering plead after plead into your ear, his cock throbbing and twitching against your pussy, cum forming a ring of filth around his base, and your mind going blank with how eager he is.

You think you cum after he says something along the lines of, “Need it-, shit, need it sweetheart, need you to cum on me,” through slightly gritted teeth and his voice cracking somewhere at the end of his words…

☆ Nanami Kento — You wouldn't stop moving.

He should've known better than to let you climb into his lap like that. Each time something exciting or interesting would display over the screen ahead, your hips would roll 'n swerve about his lap and his body would tense beneath you.

From the first shift he should've moved you off of him. Hell, from the moment you asked to sit in his lap to "platonically cuddle" he very much should have told you no.

Alas, Nanami is a very simple man, and for you? He's a very simple, perverted man who couldn't pass up the opportunity to feel the weight of you on top of him.

It wasn't long before you could feel him twitching just under the soft curve of your ass, dick begging for some proper attention despite the way his mouth refused to move with the intent of acknowledging it.

And since you happened to be just as much of a pervert as he was, only a couple of his twitches went by before you were moving yourself. You were dizzy between your motions, turning around and giving him glossy fuck-me eyes for a few seconds before his mouth was on yours.

It would've been one thing to have you beside him and squirming about, but what was he supposed to do when you were sat on top of him and gyrating your hips in the most gorgeous of patterns?

Somewhere between his tongue slicking past your lips, his hands had begun to travel the expanse of your skin—leaving no tense inch untouched.

Next thing you know and you're underneath him, falling victim to the repercussions of teasing him via dragging your ass across his lap for one minute too long.

It didn't take much for you to realize Nanami likes rubbing his thick, drooling cockhead in between the syrupy slit of your cunt for what feels like forever before he slips inside you.

He lazily dragged his plump tip around your twitching clit in tantalizing lil’ circles and let out low curses in reaction to the way you drip all against him—making the filthiest mess on the couch below. His steady hands would have the meanest grip on your thighs, keeping you spread nice and wide for him the entire time.

All he’s doing is rutting his hips back and forth and back and forth, watching his fat cock slide against your pussy over and over again. It’s almost more arousing than when he’s inside you.

Nanami loves the expression you make when he does this too. The way your brows twist up right as you grow impatient, the greedy hand you shot down to try and angle him into yourself, and the honeyed whines that exit your throat in such raw desperation.

Those fawn eyes of his would soften at the gorgeous sight of you below him and his cock would throb directly against your soaked folds.

Of course he wants to he inside you, he wants to make you feel good and listen to you moan his name all sweetly but… this—the heavy draggg of his cock all over that drooling hole of yours, the feeling of you lathering him up in aroused slick, and the mix of his precum all makes him dizzy with lust. Plus, it's only fair that he gets back at you for teasing.

Somewhere deep down inside, he actually wanted to finish that movie you put on.

Eventually though, he moved one of his hands and wrapped his fingers around his girthy base, tugging his cock a few centimeters up before slapping the weight of it back down against you and causing the nasty sound to flit into the air. Then he’d do it again.

And again, and again, and again until he can feel your leg twitching beneath his palm. “You want it, huhh?” Nanami would drawl out in that stupidly deep and lust-driven tone of his. “‘Want that cock deep inside you, sweet girl?” He’d slowly angle his tip against your hole but his hips are unmoving.

All you feel is the heat of his cockhead pressing against you, the thickness of it, the fucking throb. You can’t even manage out a reply before he’s just barely pushing into you.

Nanami always stretches you so steadily when he fucks you but, after making you wait for so long you can’t help but crave for him to just thrust every inch in at once. You want that rude stretch, that mean, unforgiving spread of your cunt around every pulsing vein of his cock.

Yet, being such a man of aggravating patience, Nanami pulls back just as quickly as he pushed in. You’re left whining without thought, “Kenn—“

“Hmm?” He’d cut you off in a way that lets you know he did that on purpose.

What a tease.

Then he’s pulling back a bit more and his hand starts moving up and down the length of his dick. You think you can feel a nasty trickle of drool slithering out from the corner of your lips as you watch him selfishly jerk off in front of you.

“Kento please,” You’d breathe out all over again, as if that would get you a different result.

It doesn’t. Instead, Nanami’s hand picks up and you watch his breathing grown heavier just as his eyes flick up to your face. Then he cocks his head to the side, “Tell me how you want it, love.” He’d request all of a sudden.

You’re confused and too horny to think so all you sputter out is an airy, “What?”

Nanami lets out a heavy pant and his lashes flutter a bit. “My cock. Tell me how you want it.” He repeats ever so sternly.

Defiantly, you fight back a groan before mumbling to him, “You know how I—“

“Easyy, sweetheart.” Nanami cuts you off in that cooing voice he knows you love.

His head weighs to the left a bit and you watch the way he brings his free hand up to your face. “Look at me,” He whispers, smiling once your eyes so politely meet his own. “There she is, there’s my gorgeous girl.” The praise, uttered so huskily that you’re left dazed beneath him. “Now, talk to me nice.”

With glossed eyes and a slight pout you can’t seem to control, “Ken,” You mewl, reaching your hand down as you desperately ache to feel him.

As if to taunt you, Nanami watches your hand move with a smirk on his face—his own hand tugging at his cock faster now.

He’s all breathy for a moment as he lets your hand wrap around him and pull him closer to you. “Hm? Is that it?” Your roommate whispers, allowing himself to be guided back to your drooling cunt.

The second his fat tip slips against you again, he’s cursing under his breath and letting his hands go to the underside of your legs.

“Fuck.” Nanami breathes, “Is that how you want it?” Then he swats your hand out of the way and moves his own to your lower abdomen. “All that teasing’s got you desperate for it now, huh?”

You whine and he groans at the sound alone. God, you drove him insane. Just looking at you as you laid beneath him a complete desperate and aching mess would be enough to make him cum.

“Kento,” Your voice finally sounds a bit more steady now and you place your hand over his while sprawling your legs out all the more wider. “Just fuck me already.”

It’s rare but, Nanami flashes this cocky expression before tilting his head, “And if I don’t?”

You can feel yourself soaking his tip even more from his taunting alone. Your brows tense and you’re whining all over again, “Please-,”

He cuts you off, “Mhmm, thaaaat’s it.” Nanami praises as he finally finally starts to push his hips forward, letting his cockhead slide right into you. “Beg for it.”

The hand you have on top of his claws at his skin and your hips lift in an attempt of getting him to push deeper, “Kento, fuck..”

“Beg for that cock, c’mon sweetheart.” He teases again, tugging his hips back as he then starts to fuck only his tip in and out of you. “It’s right there, don’t you want it?” He coos—mocking you now.

“Please,” You’re gasping once he lets himself get an inch in, “Shit, Kento please keep going.”

At that, he can’t help but push all the way in. Nanami could only deny you for so long before he was stretching you nice n’ wide for him, sliding every mean inch of his in until he could feel the bulge beneath his palm.

“Fuck.” He curses sharply, appling a bit a weight to his hand just so he can hear the way you moan out his name. “Look at that,” His hips draw back just barely before he thrusts in again, “Can you really feel me in there? Am I really that deep?”

Your eyes lull on back to your skull and now you’re holding onto his wrist as he works up a mean pace. Nanami hits the spot that’s got you drooling in seconds—fucking you exactly the way he’s learned how to.

It takes you a moment to reply to that question of his since you’re too busy moaning at how his filling you up but eventually you babble a cute, “Uhuh..”

To which a fucked-out smile spreads onto his face and his hand presses down harder “Yeahh? Then cum on it,” He instructs, his thrusts beginning to match pace with the not-so-distant knocking of the headboard against the wall.

He feels the way you’re squeezing around him and sees the utterly slutty expression you’ve got on so of course he encourages your orgasm when he begins to feel it.

“Mhmm, all over me, pretty.” He huffs, letting his hand slip just to rub that gorgeous clit of yours, “Just. Like. That.” He grunts between each pounding thrust of his.

You cry out as you make the sweetest mess around his cock and Nanami can’t help but let out a moan of his own. Watching you shiver through your very hard orgasm, he just has to lean down and press his lips to your ear.

“Such a good girl for me.” He whispers with a deeper and heavier roll of his hips as if to fuck you all the way through it.

perm multi tags (1/2):

@cupidstrace @navyllll @grignardsreagent @kingofpiratesiguess @etsuniiru @not-a-glad-gladiator @2kool4skoolll @daxphoriax @gorouenjoyer @blubearxy

@wonderfullymickey @iaintblockinnobody @kitassecretgf @iam-souless @nanamitiddiechomper @ohreallyfriend @withersworld @lilacsforveins @suguphile @megottheswaskikacooooke

@kvsqkiii @yourlocalcatscammer @lucy-lulu @sukubusss @sweetieelilii @lisabelhyhn @serenadesvt @riameriash @arminseas2 @palanggaaa

@cherslop @makingtimemine @theodoresvalentine @blcknebula @babblybebe @iluvatsumuuuui @remscreams @satorusdreamer @jaibunni

@a-jazzy-bee @miksde @zombiiesandmaltesers @sktvienna @dawnsoblivion @chloeee20 @naoybby @lateforlatte @lanamyersismywife @anosreep @inciseleviathan

[calebsfavoriteusedthong]

NERD!ZAYNE TEACHING THE GUYS HOW TO MAKE YOU CUM, SQUIRT AND OTHER TRICKS. Part 3.

Guess who's free from the mature label? 🥳🙌🏻

Part 1 Part 2 Part 4

The walk back to your apartment felt surreal, it felt like stepping out of a fever dream into something cold and sad. Zayne's dorm room had been suffocating before you left. Caleb, Rafayel, Xavier, even Sylus fought over who'd take you home. Zayne stayed by the window, quiet, but his eyes followed every move you made. You turned them all down. Heart hammering, you scrambled out the door before anyone could stop you, desperate for air, for space, for anything that wasn't his room.

How were you supposed to look at them now?

The images wouldn't stop. You had seen them hard and visibly leaking through their clothes just from watching you. The memory of Xavier’s dark eyes right before he buried his face between your thighs made your stomach flip. And Zayne—God, his voice. That calm cracking into something that ordered you to let go. It wouldn't leave you alone.

Now, sitting in the university library three days later, you couldn't focus on a single line of text in front of you. You were supposed to be studying, but the quiet just made the noise in your head louder. Close your eyes for even a second and you felt it again, four fingers buried inside you, stretching you past what you thought you could take, your pussy clenching around them in little aftershocks. The warmth of Zayne’s cum soaking through his trousers against your bare ass.

The library's silence felt exactly like the silence after you'd come.

Dread settled low in your chest. Was this it? Had you wrecked the only thing that ever felt safe? You hadn't seen any of them in days—dodging texts, taking the long way to class, hiding in corners of campus you didn't even know existed. Two years of friendship and you'd thrown it all away because a little bit of alcohol got you horny. Fuck!

You didn't hear the sneaker scuff against carpet a few rows over. Didn't notice the eyes tracking the nervous way your finger kept dragging across your bottom lip.

Rafayel stood half hidden by art history, knuckles white against the shelf, watching you with the same burning focus he'd had three nights ago.

++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

Forty eight hours after you fled Zayne's dorm, the deadbolt on his door slid shut again. Everyone—except you— was back again.

Caleb leaned against the wall spinning a basketball on his finger until it dropped, thudding against the floor. He'd mutter something under his breath, scoop it up, start over. Rafayel paced the strip of carpet between the twin beds, flipping through a stack of index cards he wasn't reading—snap, snap, snap. Sylus stood by the window with his back to the room, fingers tapping some restless rhythm against the glass. Xavier was the only one still, flat on his stomach on Zayne's bed, chin in his hands, staring blankly at a stray bobby pin left behind on the floor. Zayne sat at his desk pretending to study an anatomy chart. He'd adjusted the lamp three times. Tried to ignore the testosterone fogging up his room. But between the ball, the pacing, and the tapping, focus was a lost cause.

He slammed his textbook shut, took off his glasses and pinched the bridge of his nose. Caleb dropped the ball.

"Stop pretending," he said, voice dropping into flat calm. "You didn't come here to study. Just say what you actually want to say so I can kick you all out."

Silence. Quick, guilty glances passed between them—nobody wanting to be the one to crack first, to admit they'd all been picturing the same thing. You, two nights ago, coming apart under their hands.

Rafayel cleared his throat first, tossing his index cards onto the bed "Fiiiiine. Hypothetically. Say a guy's already inside a girl. All the way in. How do you hit that spot? Is there a specific angle?"

A muscle jumped in Zayne's jaw. "The angle doesn't change just because your dick is inside her, Rafayel. Shallow thrusts, angled up. Not just slamming into her. Though I doubt you have the stability to hold that for long."

"I have great stability!" Rafayel hissed, ears burning pink, thumb rubbing against his middle finger as the memory of you made his pulse spike.

"He once held a paintbrush at the exact same angle for an hour straight," Xavier offered, not lifting his chin from his hands.

"See? Stability."

"That's your wrist, Rafayel. Different muscle group entirely," Caleb said.

From the bed, Xavier's voice cut through again, quiet and lazy. "What about when she's on top? Or on the edge of a desk. How do you go down on her so she can grind as hard as she wants? For when she needs to control the movements herself."

Caleb snorted "A desk? Real smooth, Xavi."

"Better than what you're about to ask."

"You don't even know what I'm about to ask."

"I've known you for two years. I know exactly what you're about to ask.”

Caleb's ears went red, but he plowed ahead anyway. "Okay. Hypothetically, say a guy's bigger than average. How's he supposed to use her mouth without hurting her throat?”

"Bigger than average?" Rafayel repeated.

"I am."

"Compared to what?”

"Compared to the general population."

"You've never seen the general population's dick. You've seen yours and you've seen ours and apparently that's all the data you needed?."

Caleb opened his mouth, found nothing, and closed it again.

Sylus finally stopped tapping the glass and a low laugh rumbled out of him "If a guy's significantly bigger than average…”

“Not you too…” Rafayel groaned

“How does he make sure he actually fits, without hurting her? If she's tight. Really tight. Where's the point her body just gives up and takes it?”

Zayne pinched the bridge of his nose again. "I cannot believe I'm hearing grown men compare dick sizes in my dorm room while pretending it's for science."

"It is for science," Caleb said.

"It is not for science, Caleb."

"Reproductive science."

"Get out of my room."

Nobody moved. Zayne let out a long breath through his nose, the kind that meant he was three seconds from actually losing it.

The silence came back, heavier.

Zayne put his glasses back on slowly, fingers locking onto the edge of his desk until his knuckles went white, whatever calm he usually wore was completely gone.

“Every single one of you needs patience and a lot less idiocy than you're currently showing," Zayne said "I'll answer each question once. Once. And then you're all getting the hell out of my dorm. Am I clear?”

Their faces stayed blank. None of them realized they were all in the same boat.

Rafayel thought he was the only one picturing your breasts. Caleb thought his face fucking question was a private fantasy about your mouth, Xavier was silently planning how to put his tongue to use on you again and Sylus was quietly calculating exactly how to stretch you open and how slow he'd have to go. They were entirely oblivious to the fact that not a single one of them was thinking about an imaginary girl. Every single question in that room had your name underneath it.

++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

The shadow over your book solidified into something real. Rafayel had stepped out from behind the art history shelves, and walked straight over, pulled out the chair across from you, and dropped into it like he owned the table.

He propped his chin in his palm and smiled at you. Easy. Unbothered. Like three nights ago he hadn't had your leg pinned wide open over Zayne's leg, staring at you with eyes blown wide and wild.

"You've been reading the same page for ten minutes," he said, voice smooth, carrying that familiar teasing lilt like nothing in the world had changed. "Is it the most boring book ever written or are you hiding in here?"

Your mouth had gone dry. You closed the book slowly, hoping he wouldn't notice your hands weren't steady. "Just studying, Raf. Got a lot going on."

"Clearly," he said, dragging one finger in a slow circle against the table, eyes never leaving yours.

He didn't take the hint to go. He pulled a sketchbook out of his bag instead and started doodling something on the margins while you tried, and failed, to read the same sentence for the fourth time. Every few minutes he'd glance up, catch you watching, and smirk like he'd won something. You'd duck back to your notes. He'd go back to sketching. The cycle repeated itself until you couldn't tell if you were studying or being studied.

"You're doing it again," he murmured eventually, not looking up from his sketchbook.

"What?"

"Biting your lip…” He flipped the sketchbook closed before you could see what he'd drawn. "It's distracting."

"You're the one distracting me."

"I'm just sitting here, very quietly, minding my own business."

"You sat down across from me, uninvited."

"I go to this school. I'm allowed in the library." He grinned, and it was the same easy, infuriating grin he always wore.

When you finally packed up, he packed up too, slinging his bag over one shoulder and falling into step beside you without asking if that was okay. You walked across campus together. He talked sbout a canvas he was prepping, about a professor who kept docking him points for too much emotion in his color theory, about some gallery downtown that wanted his portfolio. Normal things. Easy things. He never once brought up the dorm. Never said Xavier's name, or Zayne's, or anything about orgasms or the sounds you'd made that day.

But it was there anyway. In every silence. In the half second too long his eyes dropped to your mouth mid sentence before flicking back up like nothing happened. In the way his shoulder kept finding yours on the narrow sidewalk, brief and electric, like he was doing it on purpose and daring you to call him out. You grabbed coffee. He ordered for you without asking, remembering exactly how you took it, and didn't comment when your fingers brushed his over the cup and you both pretended not to notice.

The whole afternoon felt like holding your breath.

By the time you made it back to your building Rafayel was still beside you. Still talking. Still walking like he had every right to be there. You didn't stop him at the stairs. You didn't stop him in the hallway. And when your key finally turned in the lock and the door swung open, whatever fragile, careful normalcy you'd both been playing at for the last three hours fell apart completely.

You barely had time to kick the door shut.

Rafayel's palms hit the wood on either side of your head, and then his mouth was on yours and there was no easing into it, no polite preamble, just him, kissing you like he'd been thinking about nothing else for three days. He tasted like dark coffee and barely leashed desperation. Your hands found his chest on instinct, fingers twisting into the fabric of his shirt, pulling him closer.

He'd been your first crush out of all of them. The beautiful, dramatic, slightly impossible artist who always seemed to exist outside of your reach. And now he had you pinned against your own door.

"Three days," he breathed against your mouth "Three days of you hiding and leaving my texts on read."

"Raf—"

"I counted the hours." His forehead dropped to yours "I had to stop because… it was embarrassing."

His hands moved before you could say something else—down your neck, across your shoulders, fingers curling into the hem of your shirt and pulling it up and over your head. He dropped it somewhere. Didn't look where it landed. He was too busy looking at you.

He'd been replaying it for three nights straight, stroking his cock raw. The light catching your skin. Zayne's hands on you. The sounds you'd made. The image had lodged itself somewhere behind his eyes and refused to leave.

His fingers found the clasp of your bra, knuckles brushing the curve of your spine, and you shivered so hard it traveled through his hands. He undid it carefully—not slowly, he wasn't capable of slow right now—and slid the straps off your shoulders, tossing it aside.

"I kept thinking about this," he said, half to himself. "Zayne had his hands on you and I was sitting three feet away going completely insane." He had been dying to see your breasts again since he had seen your nipples turn tight under Zayne's fingers.

He cupped you gently, and the slight roughness of his palms against your skin pulled a sound out of you immediately. He felt it more than heard it.

"Yeah, just like that" he murmured.

His hands were trembling slightly, he noticed and hated it but couldn't stop it. His hands never trembled. But this was you, and you were looking up at him with those eyes, and his hands were shaking like he was an eighteen year old that had never touched anyone before in his life.

His thumbs dragged over your nipples as he watched your face, not your chest, the way your lips parted, the way your head tipped back an inch. Cataloguing. Filing it away. Learning the shape of you the way he learned everything—through touch, through attention, through taking his time even when every instinct was screaming at him not to..

"You have no clue," he said quietly, thumbs circling again, "what it was like to watch you and not be able to—" He stopped. Pressed his lips together. His jaw worked like he was deciding how honest to be. "I kept thinking about what sounds you'd make if it was just me. If I got to take my time."

His hands lifted your breasts slightly, testing the weight with the same attention he gave to everything he cared about. His eyes tracked the movement.

"I want to draw you like this someday," he said, almost offhand, like the thought had just surfaced. Then his gaze flicked up to yours. "Can I?.”

Your back arched off the door and he took that as the invitation it was, mouth closing over your right breast with a hungry sound that vibrated against your skin. His tongue worked tight circles around your nipple before he pulled it deep, sucking hard enough to make your knees buckle, hands moving to grip your waist to keep you upright. When he finally pulled off, he dragged his mouth across to the other side, slower this time, lips brushing the soft underside before he bit down carefully and then sucked until a mark bloomed red against your skin, exactly where he wanted it.

He pulled back just far enough to look at it. Something satisfied moved across his face.

"There," he said quietly before he pressed his face back into your skin and groaned like you were killing him.

You didn't fully register the part where you moved from the door to your bed. Clothes came off in pieces—his shirt somewhere by the desk, your jeans a problem that took both of you longer than it should have, both of you half laughing for about three seconds before his mouth found your throat and the laughing stopped. The sheets felt cold against your back when you finally went down. Rafayel was all heat, hovering over you, weight braced on one arm, looking down at you with the same burning eyes that had been watching you from across that library for the better part of an hour.

He'd shed his pants and underwear at some point. He was fully hard, thick and leaking, a bead of moisture gathered at the tip that made your stomach flip because you remembered what he'd looked like three nights ago, damp fabric, clenched jaw and eyes that couldn't look away from you.

He parted your thighs and settled between them. He'd painted you in his head a hundred times in the last three days. He kept going back to the image of you spread open and wanting, the way you'd looked when you were right at the edge. He'd tried to work through it. Picked up a brush, stared at a blank canvas, put the brush down. Made coffee. Stared at his phone. Almost texted you seventeen times.

He guided himself to your entrance, and Zayne's voice chose that exact moment to surface in his memory. "Shallow thrusts, angled up. You have to use your hips to angle the pressure up against the anterior wall with every thrust. And internal targeting alone isn't always enough. You'll need to add direct stimulation to her clitoris at the same time if you actually want her to cum."

He almost laughed. Instead he shifted his weight and looked at you with an expression that was equal parts focused and insufferable.

"I did some research..." he said.

"Raf..."

"For artistic purposes." He pressed forward, just barely, just enough to feel the heat of your pussy against the tip of his cock, and watched your face.

He let out a slow, shaking breath and pushed inside you.

The sound he made wasn't dignified. It was pulled out of him by the way you gripped him—tight and hot—your body drawing him in like it had been waiting specifically for him. He sank all the way to the hilt, pelvis pressed flush against yours, and stayed there for a moment with his forehead dropped to your shoulder and his jaw locked so hard it ached.

He needed a second. Just one second.

You were clawing at his shoulders, nails dragging, and the sting of it helped him focus.

Pull back. Shallow. Angle up. Zayne's voice was sitting in the back of his skull like an annotation in the margin of a textbook. He wanted to be annoyed about it, but not right now, he was going to be annoyed about it later. Right now he pulled back slowly, almost all the way out, felt you clench around the tip of his dick like you were trying to keep him inside, and thrusted back in with his hips tilted up.

The sound you made rattled something loose in his chest.

He felt it, the moment the angle caught, the way your whole body seized around him, legs snapping tight around his waist and heels digging into the small of his back trying to pull him deeper. He'd hit it exactly. The spot Xavier had worked open with his fingers three nights ago, and the memory of watching that—watching you cum for Xavier—made something possessive and dark curl through him.

It was his turn now.

He reached down between your bodies, fingers sliding through the slick until his thumb found your clit, swollen and twitching, and pressed down.

"Is that—" His voice broke halfway through the question. He cleared his throat, face burning. "Is that it?"

You answered by moaning his name, which he was choosing to take as a yes.

He kept the same rhythm, thumb working circles around your clit. Your walls fluttering around him in little pulses was making it extremely difficult to think. He had to remind himself several times that he was an artist. He had the patience. He was going to make you cum and squirt just like Xavier did.

His hands were shaking again.

"I've got you," he pressed his mouth to your temple, your cheek, wherever he could reach. "I've got you, I've got you, cutie"

He picked up the pace slowly, maintaining the angle through sheer stubbornness. The sounds filling the room were obscene—wet and unavoidable—and Rafayel didn't care about any of it because you were falling apart underneath him and he couldn't look away from your face.

He'd painted a lot of things. Spent years chasing the right light, the right color, the right moment that made something ordinary look like it meant something. He'd never painted anything that looked like you did right now and he was already furious at himself because he knew he would never be able to.

He drove into you harder, felt the headboard knock once against the wall, and decided he didn't care.

"You're so tight," he choked out, the words barely making it past his teeth, pressed into the wet skin of your neck. His lips dragged down to your collarbone, teeth grazing, and his thumb kept its pressure on your clit without mercy. "You keep...fuck...every time I hit it you...It feels so good"

The pressure was building fast, coiling low in your abdomen, that same terrifying weight you'd felt under Xavier's fingers—except this was different, this was Rafayel, his chest against yours and his mouth on your throat and you couldn't think about anything else.

You bore down without thinking, muscles releasing the way Zayne had told you to, pushing back against him, and Rafayel made a sound against your neck that was almost pained.

"Raf...please, I'm gonna..."

"Don't hold it, cutie. Give it to me" he whispered right against your ear. 

A rush of heat soaked the sheets beneath you as you cried his name into the quiet room. Not a whisper. Not a gasp. His name, loud and completely undone.

Rafayel groaned like something in him gave way.

Whatever control he'd been holding onto—the careful rhythm, the patience, the angle, all of it, shattered the second he felt you cum around him. He buried himself as deep as he could go and followed you over the edge, shaking, both hands gripping your hips hard enough to bruise as he poured into you in long spurts.

He collapsed onto your chest.

His heart was slamming against your ribs, your fingers were tangled in his hair from some point you couldn't remember. The room was quiet except for both of you trying to remember how lungs worked.

His lips moved against your collarbone 

"I sketched you. In the library today. While you weren't looking." His fingers traced something slow and shapeless against your ribs. "You looked like you were carrying something heavy." A breath. "I wanted to take it from you.”

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Part 4: Xavier 😛

[danysdaughter]

Tuesdays And Thursdays

pairing | mailman!bucky x housewife!reader

word count | 13.5k words summary | you had the house. the husband. the hollow life. but every tuesday and thursday at 10:45 AM, you opened the door to something sweeter—a young mailman with a mouth full of yes ma’am and hands made for sin. tags | 18+ (MDNI), EXPLICIT SEXUAL CONTENT, unprotected sex, suburbia au, pwp, cheating sex, infidelity, age gap, power imbalance (but consensual), marital infidelity, dom/sub dynamics, begging, doggy style, overstimulation, light dirty talk, reader fantasises about bucky during sex with husband, tw: br*ck r*mlow, mention of emotional neglect in marriage, praise kink, creampie, bucky is obsessed, lowkey inexperienced!bucky, subby!bucky, bucky calls you ma’am and then fucks you stupid, he leaves your pussy full of mail, cuckold core, possessive!bucky, pussy drunk!bucky, heavy praise a/n | tbh this could’ve taken place in the 50s or 2000s, nobody knows. this was inspired by desperate housewives but i made it sluttier (if gabby and bree were one person)

likes comments and reblogs are much appreciated ✨

MASTERLIST

divider by @enchanthings

There’s something peculiar about the way a woman can be broken without ever making a sound.

No cracks. No gasps. No shattering porcelain on the floor.

Just a quiet kind of nothing that settles behind her eyes like dust on a windowsill, inevitable and slowly turning everything gray.

You were folding laundry when you found it.

One of Brock’s white shirts. The expensive kind. Egyptian cotton, triple-stitched, with his initials monogrammed just inside the collar—BRR—like a cattle brand stamped into the fabric. You’d pressed it yourself that morning, running the iron over the sleeves in slow, methodical passes, breathing in the steam and starch and the faint ghost of his cologne.

And then you saw it.

Lipstick.

Not yours.

Too red. Too loud. The kind of colour worn by women who laugh too hard at dinner parties and drink too much gin straight from the glass. Women who don’t bother to wipe the smudge off the rim before they hand it back to the waiter.

Right there, faint but certain, a smear near the collarbone. Just a whisper of crimson against the white. Like a signature. Like a taunt.

You didn’t scream or crumble. You just held the shirt between your fingers and stared at that mark like it was a wine stain on the wallpaper. Inconvenient and not even worth fussing about.

Because this is what it meant to be Mrs. Rumlow. And you had no one to blame but yourself.

After all, you weren’t swept off your feet. You were just worn down.

Brock pursued you the way a dog gnaws a bone—persistent and aggressive. He asked you out eight times before you said yes. Called your job every afternoon until the receptionist started putting him through just to shut him up. Sent flowers to your apartment; carnations, always carnations, because he never bothered to learn what you actually liked. Showed up at your mother’s dinner parties with that performative charm, shaking hands, kissing cheeks, grinning like he’d already won.

And everyone else loved him.

Your friends said he was handsome. Your mother said he had prospects. Your father just nodded and shook his hand and called him a good man.

You didn’t feel anything at all really.

But the word “yes” started falling out of your mouth like clockwork. Yes to dinner. Yes to letting him in. Yes to the ring—heavy and perfect and exactly what a girl should want. Yes to the house with the white picket fence and the immaculate lawn. Yes to the title—Mrs. Rumlow.

Yes. Yes. Yes.

Until suddenly you were thirty, standing in your laundry room at two in the afternoon, holding a man’s shirt that didn’t even smell like you anymore.

And what now? You could confront him. Cry, maybe. Throw a tantrum. Smash a vase against the wall and watch the pieces scatter across the hardwood.

But for what? To make him feel bad for fifteen minutes before he went right back to doing whatever he pleased? To force an apology you knew wouldn’t mean a thing?

No, thank you.

You hung the shirt neatly over the back of the chair, the way you’d been taught, and went back to folding towels. Matching corners. Smooth stacks. The rhythm of it steadied something in your chest.

That afternoon, you made a lemon cake.

You creamed the butter and sugar until it was pale and fluffy. You zested the lemons until your fingers smelled sharp and bright. You poured the batter into the pan and watched it rise through the oven door, golden and perfect. You whipped the frosting by hand until your arm ached, then spread it in smooth, even layers across the top.

And when you sat down in your immaculate kitchen—surrounded by the hum of the refrigerator and the ticking of the clock, with a slice of cake on a china plate in front of you—you took a bite.

The frosting was just a little too sweet.

You felt absolutely nothing at all.

Dinner was silent.

You set the pot roast on the table, the porcelain platter warm against your palms, steam curling upward like cigarette smoke in a half-empty bar. The scent of rosemary and roasted carrots hung in the air, filling the dining room with something that smelled like home… even if it didn’t feel like one.

Brock thanked you without looking up from the newspaper.

The words came out flat, automatic, as if spoken by a machine. He ate quickly, efficiently, like everything in his life. Fork, knife, chew, swallow. A rhythm of consumption without pleasure. He checked his watch between bites, that little gold-faced wristband catching the chandelier light, and you wondered if he ever really tasted anything at all.

You nodded at the right moments. Smiled when he made a dry comment about work… something about a man named Alexander Pierce, a deal gone sour, a shipment delayed. You didn’t really listen. You just let your mouth move in practiced curves while your eyes drifted to the lipstick stain you’d pressed out of that shirt hours ago.

You poured him another drink when he tapped the glass. The two clinks of his wedding band against the crystal, a wordless request you had long since learned to obey without thought.

You didn’t bring up the lipstick.

Why would you? He would deny it. Or worse—he would tell the truth like it was trivial, like it was nothing more than a spilled drink at a work function, a kiss on the cheek from a client’s wife. He would wave his hand and say you know how these things go, sweetheart, and then he’d go back to carving the roast.

So you kept your mouth shut and your hands steady and your face smooth as porcelain.

After dinner, you washed the dishes while he stood behind you. His hands found your hips in that familiar way, yet less like a husband touching his wife and more like a man checking the fence posts on his property. You didn’t flinch or lean back into him. You just let the warm water run over your fingers and watched the soap bubbles pop one by one against the stainless steel.

He guided you upstairs without a word.

In the bedroom, he didn’t turn on the lights. He never did when he was in this mood. It was easier for him to pretend you were anyone he wanted. Easier for you to pretend you didn’t know who he was imagining. Easier for both of you to exist in that shadowed space without having to look each other in the eye.

He unbuttoned your dress halfway, just enough to get what he needed, and pushed inside you with a sigh. The same tired exhale he gave when he loosened his tie after work. A release. Not affection. Not even desire. Just pressure leaving the body, a valve opened after a long day.

He moved like a man finishing a task before bed. His breath warm and stale against your neck, tinged with whiskey and gravy. Your cheek pressed into the pillow, eyes open in the dark, staring at the faint crack in the ceiling where the moonlight bled through the curtains.

You didn’t make a sound. You didn’t tremble or cling or gasp. You just lay there, letting him take what he thought was his, feeling nothing but the soft thud of your heartbeat in your ear and the slight friction of the sheets against your thighs.

When he came, he groaned your name like an afterthought and rolled off you immediately. A completed chore. The mattress shifted as he settled onto his back, and within minutes his breathing evened out into the low, rough snore you’d grown accustomed to.

You pulled the sheets back up to your chin and lay on your back, staring at the ceiling.

The moonlight cut pale lines across the room, sharp and silver, like broken glass scattered on the floor. You traced them with your eyes, following the angles where they crossed the crown molding, the light fixture, the corner where the wallpaper had begun to peel ever so slightly.

They didn’t point anywhere. They didn’t mean anything. They were just lines of light falling across a dark room where a woman lay next to a man who didn’t see her.

The ache between your legs was faint now, fading into something distant and numb. You folded your hands over your stomach, fingers interlaced, like a woman lying in a casket.

The ceiling fan hummed above you, a low mechanical drone that filled the silence with something almost like comfort.

Then you let sleep pull you under, still hollow, still quiet, still waiting for something to crack.

Tuesday

You sat in the kitchen with a cigarette burning between your fingers and your second cup of coffee growing cold on the counter, wearing a satin robe the colour of pale champagne; too soft, too pretty, too delicate for a life this dull. The fabric whispered against your skin with every small movement, a reminder that you still had a body, still had nerve endings, still had wants that went unacknowledged.

The floor was spotless. Linoleum gleaming under the morning light, every crumb swept, every scuff wiped away. The breakfast dishes were stacked neatly in the drying rack, porcelain and ceramic arranged like soldiers at attention. Everything in its place. Everything perfect.

And for a moment, just one dizzy, suffocating moment, you considered what it would be like if you just… walked out.

Not packed. Not explained. Not left a note. Just stood up, pushed back the chair, and let the front door click shut behind you without a backward glance. No destination. No plan. Just the simple, radical act of leaving.

You thought about the other wives on the block. Margaret with her twin boys and her perpetual exhaustion. Doris with her tennis club and her too-bright laugh. Eleanor with her country luncheons and her gossip that cut like a finely sharpened knife. All of them busy, all of them pretending they weren’t slowly going mad in their identical houses with their identical husbands and their identical lives.

You didn’t have a baby. You didn’t have a career. You didn’t even have friends you really liked—just women you drank tea with because it was expected, because the calendar said Monday and Wednesday meant bridge club whether you wanted it or not.

You had a house that stayed clean and a husband that didn’t. And every day felt the same.

Breakfast. Clean. Grocery store. Smile politely. Dinner. Dishes. Sex if he remembered. Sleep. Repeat. Repeat. Repeat.

You stubbed the cigarette out in the ceramic ashtray, the ember hissing against porcelain, and let out a long, slow breath. Maybe you’d bake something today. A cheesecake, perhaps—the one your mother had taught you, the one that took two hours and left your hands smelling of cream and sugar. Or maybe you’d just sit here, watching the clock tick toward noon, counting the minutes until the day blurred into the next one.

Knock. Knock.

Your head turned, like a reflex you hadn’t trained but couldn’t control.

The clock on the wall said 10:45. Which meant it was Tuesday. Which meant—

You already knew before you opened the door.

The morning light spilled across the porch, catching in his hair, turning it something between caramel and chocolate. He stood there in his postal uniform; navy trousers pressed sharp, shirt buttoned to regulation, the leather strap of his mailbag cutting across his chest.

But beneath the uniform, he wore a white t-shirt, the collar just visible at his throat, and he’d cuffed his sleeves once, twice, to show his forearms. Tan skin dusted with fine golden hair, muscles that moved beneath the surface with a boyish, easy strength.

There was a curl stuck to his forehead, dark and damp from the morning humidity. Your fingers itched to push it back.

He smiled when he saw you, that wide, eager grin that made him look like he’d just found something he’d been searching for. “G’mornin’, Mrs. Rumlow.” His voice had a rumble to it, low and warm. “You’re lookin’ mighty pretty this mornin’.”

The words landed somewhere in your chest, like a stone dropped into still water. You didn’t smile back, not the full thing, anyway. Just a curve at the corner of your mouth, a softening of your eyes. You held the doorframe with two fingers, the satin of your robe draping against the painted wood.

“Thank you, James.” His name felt intentional on your tongue, drawn out just a little longer than necessary. “Right on time, I see.”

Bucky scratched the back of his neck, a gesture so young, so unpolished, it made something tighten in your stomach. “You know me, ma’am. Gotta keep to a schedule.” He laughed once, a short breath of sound. “Wouldn’t wanna disappoint.”

Disappoint. The word hung in the air between you, weighted with something neither of you acknowledged aloud.

He pulled the letters from his bag with careful hands; one bill, one catalog, one cream-coloured envelope with your mother’s looping handwriting on the front. He offered them to you, and you reached out to take them, your fingers brushing his in the exchange.

A whisper of contact. Barely anything at all. But your skin remembered it. Tingled with it. Held onto it like a secret.

You looked down at the envelopes, then back up at him. His cheeks were flushed, that telltale pink climbing up from his collar, and he was looking at you like you were something more than a housewife in a bathrobe holding a stack of bills.

“You have a good day now, ma’am,” he said, quieter this time, as if the words were meant only for the space between you.

The ma’am made something in your chest loosen. It wasn’t condescending, not the way Brock said it when he was irritated, a dismissive verbal pat on the head. This was different. Like being called something sacred.

“Thank you, James.” Your voice came out steadier than you felt. “I’ll see you Thursday.”

His grin widened, a flash of white teeth, and he touched the brim of his cap like a soldier saluting. “Yes, ma’am. Thursday.”

Bucky turned and walked back down the path, his stride easy and confident, the mailbag swinging against his hip. You watched him go, fingers still pressed to the doorframe, the letters clutched against your chest. He glanced back once, just before the hedge swallowed him from view, and caught your eye.

He didn’t wave. Neither did you.

But the look he gave you lingered long after he disappeared.

You closed the door slowly and leaned against it, the wood cool against your back through the thin satin. And suddenly, all you could think about was Thursday.

All you could think about was him.

Thursday

You put on lipstick before breakfast.

Not the usual pale pink you wore to bridge club or church, the kind that barely registered on your lips, a ghost of colour meant to be respectable and forgettable. No. Today, you reached for the tube tucked behind the vanity mirror, the one you’d bought weeks ago on a whim and never worn. A glossier red. Crimson. The kind of shade that demanded attention.

It wasn’t quite as brazen as the stain on Brock’s collar’ that shade had been brighter, cheaper, applied with less care, but it was close. Close enough to feel like a statement. Close enough to feel like your own small rebellion.

You curled your hair, too. The iron hissed against the strands, shaping them into soft curls that brushed your shoulders. You ironed your best blouse, cream silk with mother-of-pearl buttons, and paired it with a navy skirt that cinched at your waist and fell just below your knees. You dabbed perfume behind your ears, at your wrists, between your breasts, letting the scent settle into your skin like a secret.

All for what? A two-minute doorstep exchange.

Maybe.

But it had been a long time since you got ready for someone. A long time since you’d felt the flutter of anticipation in your chest, the nervous checking of your reflection, the quiet thrill of wondering if he would notice.

And Bucky? He always noticed.

The morning moved slowly. You tried to busy yourself—made the bed with hospital corners, scrubbed the kitchen counters until they gleamed, cleaned out the icebox with methodical precision. But your hands went through the motions while your mind wandered elsewhere.

You kept glancing at the clock.

10:32.

10:39.

The coffee grew cold in your cup, untouched.

10:44.

Your pulse quickened, an involuntary flutter against your ribs. You wiped your palms on your skirt, smoothed a hand over your hair, touched your lips to check the lipstick was still perfect.

Then—

Footsteps on gravel.

Your breath caught. You straightened your posture, squared your shoulders, and walked to the front door with a calm you didn’t feel. You opened it before he could knock, the morning light spilling across the porch and catching him mid-step.

“Well, good mornin’, Mrs. Rumlow.”

He stood there with a toothpick tucked in the corner of his mouth, rolling it lazily between his lips. Same cuffed sleeves, same easy stance, same sunshine grin, but something shifted when his eyes landed on you. The grin faltered, just a fraction. His gaze traveled down, then back up, taking his time. Top to bottom. Appreciative. Hungry.

Your skin warmed under the weight of it.

“Why, James,” you said, your voice light and teasing, carrying the faintest lilt of surprise. “You’re lucky I’m dressed. Another ten seconds and you might’ve caught me in a robe.”

He laughed, a low, full sound that rumbled from his chest. “Guess I showed up just in time, then.” He pulled the toothpick from his mouth, tucking it into his shirt pocket, and let his eyes linger on your lips. “You look real nice today, Mrs. Rumlow. That colour suits you.”

You felt the compliment settle low in your belly. You leaned against the doorframe, letting your hip jut out just slightly, letting him see the curve of your waist beneath the silk. “Thursdays feel longer than Tuesdays,” you mused, taking the mail from his outstretched hand. Your fingers brushed his on purpose this time. “I think I like Tuesdays better.”

He cocked his head, watching your fingers trace the edge of the envelope. A slow smile spread across his face, not shy now, not boyish. Something else. “Then I guess I’ll have to make Thursdays worth your while, won’t I?”

There it was. The cocky edge under all that charm. The faintest bite, the shift from sweet to knowing. He wasn’t just flirting anymore, he was answering you.

You felt it in your chest. In your thighs. That quiet, familiar clench that hadn’t visited in years, the one you’d thought had died somewhere between Brock’s indifference and your own resignation.

“You always this flattering to the women on your route?” you asked, tilting your head, keeping your tone airy. But your eyes held his, unflinching.

He chuckled, shaking his head. “Only the pretty ones.”

You raised an eyebrow. “Oh? So just Mrs. McCall across the street, then?”

He laughed again, and God, that laugh. It was warm and genuine, a sound that seemed to come from somewhere deep in his chest. He placed a hand over his heart, feigning offense. “You wound me, Mrs. Rumlow. You know you’re my favourite.”

The way he said it. That confident little smirk. The way his eyes dropped to your lips again, just for a second, before returning to yours, like he was memorising you.

It shouldn’t have made your thighs press together. But it did.

He made no move to step back. You made no move to end the conversation. The morning stretched around you, the only sounds the distant hum of a lawnmower and the thrumming of your own pulse.

“You got plans this weekend?” he asked suddenly.

The question caught you off guard. You blinked, your composure slipping for just a moment. “No,” you admitted. “Just the usual. Laundry. Groceries. Maybe lunch with some women I don’t particularly like.”

He smiled again, wide and wolfish this time. “I could think of better ways to spend a Sunday.”

Your lips parted. You could feel the weight of his words, the implication wrapped in that easy grin. But you didn’t speak.

He stepped back then, finally, breaking the spell slowly. He tipped two fingers to his forehead in a mock salute, his eyes never leaving yours. “See you Tuesday, Mrs. Rumlow.”

“Tuesday,” you repeated, your voice softer than you intended.

He turned and walked down the path, his stride easy, his shoulders broad beneath the blue uniform. You watched him go, watched the way his hips moved, the way his hair curled at the nape of his neck. And this time, when he glanced back, just before the hedge swallowed him, he didn’t just look.

He winked.

You closed the door slowly, and exhaled through your nose, a long, shaky breath you hadn’t realised you were holding. Your heart rattled against your ribs. Your lips still tingled from the weight of his gaze.

You were old enough to know better. Old enough to recognize the danger in a boy who looked at you like you were the sun. But today? You didn’t feel old. You didn’t feel married. You didn’t feel like a housewife in a quiet suburb with a cheating husband and a hollow life.

You felt looked at. You felt chosen. And maybe Bucky had other girls. Maybe he had dozens, scattered across his route like wildflowers. But when he looked at you like that, like you were the only woman on the planet, you let yourself bask in it.

Saturday Night

Brock wanted sex, again.

You could always tell by the way he stood in the doorway after his shower, towel slung low around his hips, rubbing the bridge of his nose like the very thought of wanting you exhausted him. It never felt like desire. It felt like appetite, hunger without taste, a reflex he performed out of schedule rather than longing. He never looked at you the way Bucky did. He looked through you, like you were a task to check off before sleep.

You were propped against the headboard, a copy of Ladies’ Home Journal open in your lap, your eyes scanning the same paragraph three times without reading a word. The magazine had been a shield. A pretense of being occupied. But when Brock padded over and plucked it from your hands, his fingers brushing yours without lingering, you didn’t protest.

He placed it on the nightstand and you watched his shadow fall across the bed.

“You ready for me?” he asked, already knowing the answer. His voice was flat, perfunctory.

“Mhm,” you murmured, the sound soft, neutral. Invitation enough.

He climbed on top of you, the mattress dipping under his weight. His lips found yours in a single, dry kiss , just a press of mouth against mouth before he pulled back. His lips were damp from the shower. Impatient. He pushed your nightgown up over your hips, the cotton gathering in wrinkled bunches around your ribs. The air hit your thighs, cool and indifferent.

“I missed you,” he whispered, but the words were hollow, a script he recited by rote. He didn’t mean it. He never meant it. But the sound still filled the room, settling between you like dust.

You opened your legs because that was the routine. That was marriage. That was being Mrs. Rumlow, a woman who spread her thighs for a man who forgot she had a name beyond the ring on her finger.

He entered you with a grunt. As you felt the familiar weight of a man claiming what he believed belonged to him. His hips settled against yours, and he began to move, steady, mechanical, like the piston of a machine. In. Out. In. Out. His breath hot against your neck.

It didn’t hurt. It didn’t feel good. It felt like nothing.

You stared over his shoulder at the wall. The pattern in the wallpaper blurred as your focus drifted. The lamp on the nightstand flickered once, a tired bulb. The headboard creaked with each thrust, a rhythmic complaint that had long since become white noise. You counted the creaks. Six. Seven. Eight. You wandered through the numbers like hallways, searching for somewhere else to be.

Your mind wandered. It always did. But tonight it wandered somewhere new.

James Buchanan Barnes.

You pictured him without even meaning to. The curve of his smile, that boyish confidence that didn’t know its own power. His hands, rough and calloused from sorting mail and lifting parcels, curling around envelopes with a casual grace. Forearms tight and sun-browned, taut with youth and strength, so much younger than they should be for how much they made you ache.

You imagined those hands on your waist instead. Sliding over the curve of your hip. Fingers digging in like he was afraid you might slip through them, like he wanted to hold on so tight he’d leave bruises you could press in the morning and remember.

Brock groaned into your shoulder. A sound of effort, not passion. You barely heard it.

Your mind was in your foyer. Sunlight streaming through the side window, catching the gold in James’s hair, turning it to chocolate brown. His eyes dropping to your lips and the quiet hitch of his breath when he realised you were wearing red today. The way his tongue touched his bottom lip before he spoke.

You imagined him standing too close. Close enough that you could smell the soap on his skin, the faint salt of a morning’s work. You imagined him saying your name with that low rasp, Mrs. Rumlow, not as a title, but as a confession. Almost shy. Almost cocky. Almost daring you to stop him.

You imagined him whispering something filthy in your ear. Something a young man should never say to a married woman. Something you would let him say anyway, would crave him to say, would press your thighs together under the kitchen table and pretend not to hear.

“I think about you when I’m alone, Mrs. Rumlow. Late at night. Do you think about me?”

Brock picked up his pace. His breathing turned heavy, tight, a rhythm he knew by heart. His hips slapped against yours, harder now, more insistent. Your body moved out of habit—a practiced arch of your back, a soft sound you’d learned to make at the right intervals. But you weren’t there.

You were in the kitchen with Bucky, morning light streaming through the lace curtains. Your robe hanging open. His mouth hot on your throat, trailing down, down, tasting the perfume you’d dabbed there just for him. His voice unsteady and hungry, cracking with want. His hand sliding up your thigh, like he had been dreaming about the feel of your skin for months.

“Tell me you want this,” he’d whisper. “Tell me you want me.”

You imagined him losing control. The careful restraint crumbling. The boyish charm replaced by something ravenous, something that needed you so badly it frightened him. You imagined him taking you right there against the counter, your back arching, your fingers tangled in his hair, every sound you made pulling him deeper.

Your breath caught. Heat crawled up your spine like fingers tracing vertebrae. Your nails dug into the sheets, white-knuckled, pulling the fabric taut.

Brock didn’t notice.

You came quietly. An involuntary gasp against his shoulder, a tremour that ran through your thighs and settled deep in your belly. You bit down on the sound, swallowed it whole. You didn’t want him to know why. You didn’t want him to know it wasn’t for him.

He finished thirty seconds later with a strained grunt, his body tensing, his release hot and forgettable. He collapsed on top of you, a dead weight, sweating and satisfied, completely ignorant. His breath evened out against your neck, slowing into the rhythm of a man who had taken what he wanted and was already forgetting he’d had it.

“I missed you,” he said again. A kiss pressed to your shoulder, empty of meaning.

You closed your eyes. Your pulse settled slowly, like dust after a storm.

Your husband had made you orgasm for the first time in years. And he would never know that he had nothing to do with it.

You lay there under Brock’s weight, the lamp flickering, the headboard silent now. Your fingers still curled in the sheets. Your skin still tingled where you’d imagined Bucky’s hands.

You thought about Tuesday. You thought about the red lipstick in your vanity drawer. You thought about the way James’s eyes had dropped to your lips this morning, hungry and hopeful, like a boy ready to sin.

And you smiled in the dark.

Tuesday came again.

And so did you.

Not physically. Not yet. But God, did you want to.

You spent the morning choosing your clothes with the kind of care you usually reserved for holidays or funerals. A blush pink blouse with three buttons undone, sleeves rolled just past your elbows. An indecent skirt that hugged your hips when you walked. You applied your lipstick slowly, blotting against tissue paper until the colour was perfect, a deep, shameful red that screamed look at me.

You heard the mail truck before you saw him. The low rumble of the engine, the crunch of gravel, the squeak of brakes. Your pulse quickened. You stepped onto the porch just as he rounded the corner of the driveway, satchel slung over one shoulder, a stack of envelopes in his hand.

He looked up. Saw you. Stopped.

The sun caught the sweat on his brow, glistening on his temple. He was so young. It made your stomach tighten.

“Mornin’, Mrs. Rumlow.” His voice came out a little rough. He cleared his throat. “Got your usual. Couple of bills. A catalog.”

You smiled and stepped forward. Close enough that the breeze carried your perfume straight to him. You saw his nostrils flare, just slightly—, efore he caught himself.

“That’s very kind of you to bring them right to the door,” you said, letting your voice dip low. “Y’know most mailmen would just toss them in the box.”

“I like makin’ sure you get yours proper.” He held out the envelopes. His fingers brushed yours when you took them. Lingered. You didn’t pull away.

You looked up at him through your lashes. “You’re good at your job, James.”

He smiled, crooked and shy. “Only ‘cause the scenery’s nice.”

You laughed softly. “Careful. You’ll spoil me.”

“Well, maybe you deserve to be spoiled.”

The words hung in the air between you, heavy and warm. He didn’t look away. Neither did you.

Thursday came with a different kind of heat.

Thick and humid, the kind that clung to your skin and made everything feel slow. You wore a sundress, thin straps, low neckline, the fabric loose enough to hint at what lay beneath without giving everything away. No stockings. No slip. Just your body and cotton and the knowledge that the afternoon sun would make the dress cling to every curve.

You heard the truck at the usual time. You opened the door before he could knock.

This time you leaned out a little too far as you reached for the envelopes. Let the neckline gape. Let him see the swell of your breasts, the shadow between them, the way your skin glistened from the humidity.

His eyes dropped.

It was only for a second. Less. But you saw it. The way his jaw twitched. The way his hand tightened around the mail he was holding, crinkling the edge of an envelope.

“Thanks, James.” You straightened slowly, letting him see the smile playing on your lips.

“Y-yes ma’am.” He swallowed. “You have a good day now.”

“I plan to.”

You closed the door and leaned against it, heart pounding. That night, you ran a bath so hot the mirror fogged over. You lay in the water with your knees bent, steam curling around your face, and you let your hand drift between your thighs.

You imagined him on his knees in front of the tub. His hands gripping the porcelain. His eyes on you, dark and hungry. The way he’d look up at you before lowering his head.

“Please, Mrs. Rumlow. Let me taste you.”

You pressed your fingers deeper, biting down on your own wrist to muffle the sound. You came with his name on your tongue, barely whispered, lost in the steam.

Tuesday

The heat came early that morning, crawling through the window screens like something alive. Thick and unforgiving. By the time the clock struck ten, the air in the house had gone still and heavy, pressing against your skin like a warm palm.

You didn’t bother dressing.

There was no point. Brock had left before sunrise, a muttered goodbye and the slam of the front door, off to wherever it was he went when he wasn’t here. The house was yours.

You slipped into your favourit pink champagne robe. You tied it just once at the waist, loose enough that the fabric fell open when you moved, baring the slope of your collarbone, the shadow between your breasts, the long line of your thigh as you walked from the bedroom to the kitchen.

No bra. No slip. Just your skin beneath the silk, damp from the humidity.

The clock ticked to 10:45.

Right on schedule.

You’d been standing at the kitchen window, watching the street through the sheer curtain, a glass of ice water sweating in your hand. You saw the mail truck pull up. Saw him step out, satchel slung over his shoulder, wiping the back of his hand across his brow.

He looked up at your house. Paused. Adjusted his collar.

You smiled to yourself, set down the glass, and walked to the door.

Knock, knock.

You waited two beats—long enough to seem unhurried, not long enough to seem reluctant. Then you turned the knob and pulled the door open.

The heat hit you first, a wall of it, thick and wet. It smelled like cut grass and pavement and the faint, clean sweat of a young man who’d been working under the sun.

And there he was.

Bucky Barnes, all six feet of him, backlit by the morning glare. The light caught his cheekbones, the sharp line of his jaw, the brown strands of his hair darkened with sweat and plastered to his forehead. His uniform shirt was unbuttoned halfway, the fabric gaping open to reveal the smooth plane of his chest, the sun-warmed skin, the fine sheen of sweat that made it gleam.

He had a stack of mail in one hand. The other hung loose at his side, fingers twitching like he didn’t know what to do with them.

His eyes met yours.

And then they dropped.

Down your body. Over the open V of your robe. Down to your bare legs, the curve of your calf, the way the silk shifted when you breathed. It wasn’t a glance. It was a slow and helpless look and he didn’t even try to hide it.

You saw the exact moment his brain caught up with his body. His throat moved. His jaw tightened. His gaze snapped back to your face, but it was too late. You’d already seen everything.

“M-Mornin’, Mrs. Rumlow.”

The stutter was tiny. Barely there. But you heard it, felt it like a small victory.

“Good morning, James.”

Your voice came out low, syrupy, the kind of voice you used when you wanted a man to lean in closer. You let your hand drift up to the doorframe, the movement casual, but it pulled the robe just a fraction tighter across your chest.

“Hot one today,” you murmured, tilting your head. “I thought I’d stay in something a little lighter. The heat’s been unbearable.”

He opened his mouth. Closed it. His eyes flickered down again, just for a second, just a brief, helpless slip, before he forced them back up.

“Yeah,” he said, and his voice cracked on the word. He cleared his throat. “Yeah, it’s—real hot. Humid, too.”

“You must be dying out there in that uniform.”

“It ain’t so bad.” He shifted his weight, licked his lips. “Got a good schedule. Nice houses. Nice people.”

He held out the mail. You took it, slowly letting your fingertips brush against his. His skin was warm. His pulse jumped under your touch.

“Thank you,” you said, soft. “I notice you always bring it to me personally. You don’t do that for anyone else, do you?”

He blinked. “I—no, ma’am. I usually just leave it in the box.”

“So why do you bring mine to the door?”

The question hung in the air between you, sweet as poison. He stared at you, and you watched him search for an answer that wouldn’t give too much away.

He failed.

“Guess I like seein’ your face.” His voice dropped, quieter now, almost rough. “You’re always real nice to me. Not everyone is.”

You stepped closer, just enough to bring you into the wedge of sunlight spilling through the doorway. The robe shifted, gaping open at your thigh. You saw his eyes track the movement.

“You like talking to me, James?”

“Yeah.” The word came out breathless. “I really do.”

You let a small smile play at the corner of your mouth. “I like talking to you too.”

A silence settled between you. The air itself seemed to thicken, you could hear the hum of a lawnmower two streets away, the distant bark of a dog, the ragged rhythm of his breathing.

The sun spilled across his shoulders, catching the sweat on his collarbone. Your robe was loose, barely tied, the silk shifting with every shallow rise and fall of your chest. Just standing there, two feet apart, was a kind of intimacy.

You could have kissed him then. You knew he would have let you. You knew he wanted you to. You could see it in the way his pupils had swallowed the blue of his irises, the way his throat worked as he swallowed, the way his gaze kept dropping to your mouth and then darting away, like he was afraid of what he might do if he looked too long.

Instead, you smiled.

“Would you like some lemonade?”

The question hung in the air like a dare. His eyes snapped to your mouth, then back up, and you watched him process what you’d just offered. The invitation. The implication. The fact that you weren’t asking him to leave.

He nodded. Too quickly. His voice cracked when he spoke.

“Yeah. Sure. I’d—I’d like that.”

Come in.

You didn’t say it. You just stepped back, letting the door swing open wider, and turned without another word. Bare feet on cool tile. The soft whisper of silk against your thighs. You walked ahead of him, letting him follow, letting him watch.

The robe shifted when you moved, slipping off one shoulder, brushing the backs of your knees, the hem fluttering just above the curve of your calf. You didn’t look back. You didn’t need to. You could feel his gaze on you like a hand at your waist, trailing down your spine, settling low.

The house was quiet. Too quiet. No radio humming. No laundry churning. Just the low buzz of the ceiling fan from the living room and the soft, steady tick of the wall clock over the sink.

The kitchen blazed with sunlight pouring through the open windows, catching the dust motes drifting in the still air. The counters gleamed. A half-used lemon sat on the cutting board from this morning. The whole room smelled faintly of citrus and sugar and the clean scent of dish soap.

“Sit,” you said gently, motioning toward the stools at the counter. “I’ll get the lemonade.”

He obeyed. Quietly. He set his satchel down on the counter, then pulled out one of the stools, the legs scraping against the tile. He sat, watched you, said nothing. His hands rested on his thighs, fingers flexing.

You moved unhurriedly. Opened the refrigerator door. Let the cold air wash over you. Bent slowly, reaching all the way to the back for the glass pitcher, knowing exactly how the robe tightened across the backs of your thighs, knowing exactly how the hem rose just a little higher when you stretched.

When you straightened and turned, his eyes snapped up too fast. A flush crept up his neck. He’d been staring. Caught.

You didn’t acknowledge it. Just smiled to yourself and poured two tall glasses, condensation already beading on the glass.

You set one in front of him. Then took the stool across the counter, crossing your legs as you settled. The robe fell open at the knee, baring the length of your thigh. You saw him glance down, then force himself to look at the lemonade.

You brought the glass to your lips. Sipped. Let the cold sweetness coat your tongue. When you set it down, you licked a stray drop from your lower lip, slow enough to make him shift in his seat.

“Still hot out,” you said, your voice light, conversational. “Not used to this kind of heat. Makes a woman crave something cold.”

He swallowed. “Yeah. It’s—it’s bad this week.” His voice was rough, like he’d been shouting, though he’d barely spoken a word.

You tilted your head, studying him. “You alright, sweetheart? You look a little flushed.”

His mouth opened. Closed. Opened again. “Just warm,” he managed.

“Mmm.” You rested your chin on your palm, elbow on the counter, watching him. “You know, you’re always so nice. I really like that about you.”

He blinked, caught off guard. “Ma’am?”

“A lot of boys your age wouldn’t be so kind to someone like me.”

His brow furrowed. “Someone like you?”

You smiled, bittersweet, letting your gaze drop. “A housewife,” you murmured. “Married. Boring. A little past my prime, I suppose.”

The words hung in the air. You felt the weight of them, the small lie you were telling, the way you were baiting him.

He sat up straighter. His jaw tightened. “You’re not past anything.”

You looked at him, surprised by the sudden heat in his voice.

“You’re—” He broke off, dragging a hand through his damp hair. His ears were red. “You’re beautiful, Mrs. Rumlow.”

The silence stretched between you. The ceiling fan turned overhead, stirring the warm air. Somewhere outside, a bird called. The ice in your glass settled with a soft clink.

You held his gaze a second longer than was appropriate. Then you took another sip of your lemonade, letting the moment breathe.

“That’s very sweet of you to say, James.” Your voice was quieter now. Softer. “Very sweet.”

He swallowed hard. His fingers tightened around his glass, knuckles white, like he was bracing himself against something.

For a while, neither of you said anything.

Just sat in the sun-warmed silence, pretending to be casual while the air thickened between you like honey left too long on the stove. The whole world had narrowed to this kitchen, this counter, this boy with his hands wrapped around a glass like it was the only thing keeping him tethered.

You shifted in your seat, uncrossing your legs and recrossing them the other way. The silk whispered against your skin.

His eyes dropped. You felt them like a touch, the way they traced the line of your thigh where the robe had fallen open, the way they lingered on the curve of your knee, the shadow above it. He watched the slow slide of your fingers over your glass, watched the way you wet your lips without thinking, and you watched him right back, cataloging every small tell.

The way his breath stalled when you moved. The way his knuckles went white. The way he bit his lower lip—just the tiniest flicker of restraint cracking, the pressure of his teeth against the soft flesh making you feel something warm and dangerous coil low in your belly.

You caught him. You didn’t say a word. Just smiled, the kind that said, I saw you. It’s alright. I wanted you to.

He bit his lip harder, then let it go. His mouth stayed parted, pink and slightly swollen.

You leaned forward, elbows on the counter, voice dropping to just above a whisper. “Do you like coming here, James?”

The question was simple. Innocent in its phrasing.

He looked up. Met your eyes. Nodded, like he was admitting something he’d been holding back for weeks.

“Yeah,” he said, like gravel scraped smooth by water. “I really do.”

You let the silence fall again, full and heavy and humming. And then, with the softest, most dangerous smile you owned. “Good,” you whispered. “Me too.”

You stood from your stool, the wood scraping softly against the tile. Took your empty glass to the sink, and rinsed it slowly, letting the water run over your fingers, watching the last traces of lemon and sugar swirl down the drain. The tap hummed. The water was cool against your heated skin.

You lifted your eyes to the window above the sink, watching his distorted reflection in the glass. He was staring at your back. The curve of your spine through the thin silk. The dip of your waist. The way your hips swayed just slightly as you shifted your weight from one foot to the other.

Finally, you turned off the tap. Shook the excess water from your hands. Dried them slowly on a dish towel hanging from the oven handle.

Then you spoke.

“Tell me something, James.”

Your voice was soft. Curious.

“Yes, ma’am?”

You turned around slowly, hips resting against the counter’s edge, the thin silk of your robe parting just a little as it settled around your waist. The morning light caught the curve of your hip, the shadow of your navel, the soft swell of your breasts beneath the fabric.

You watched his eyes follow it.

“Do you flirt with every woman on your route,” you asked gently, tilting your head, “or only me?”

His mouth opened, then closed. He actually blinked, like he needed to reset his brain, like the question had short-circuited something vital. His ears reddened. His hands tightened on the glass again, then relaxed as he set it down carefully, as if afraid he might break it.

“Only you,” he said quietly. The words came out steady, but his voice trembled at the edges. “Only ever you.”

You nodded once. As if that confirmed something you already knew, something you’d suspected since the first time he lingered a little too long at your door, since the first time his fingers brushed yours when he handed you the mail.

Then you walked toward him.

Slow steps. Bare feet on cool tile. The sun fell across your path, warm on your shoulders, and you felt beautiful in a way you hadn’t in years. Not for Brock. Not for anyone else. For yourself. For the way this boy’s eyes followed every inch of you like you were something sacred.

When you reached him, you placed your hand lightly on the counter beside his shoulder. Not touching him. Close enough that he could feel the warmth radiating from your skin. You leaned in just slightly, letting him smell your perfume.

His breath hitched so sharply it almost broke your composure. You felt a thrill run through you, sharp and electric.

“Look at me,” you whispered.

He did.

You let your gaze drag over his face, the strong line of his jaw, the delicate curve of his lips. The way his blue eyes had gone dark, pupils blown wide, the colour swallowed by want. The way his throat worked as he swallowed again, the Adam’s apple bobbing.

You let your fingers trail down his forearm. Barely a touch. The lightest brush of your fingertips over the fine hair on his skin, over the warmth of him, over the tremour that ran through his muscles when you made contact.

“You know,” you said softly, your voice a murmur, “you have been very good to me these last few months.”

His chest rose. Fell. His lips parted.

“I like our chats, James.”

Your fingers continued their lazy path, tracing the line of a vein, the curve of his wrist. You felt his pulse jump beneath your touch, rapid and wild.

“And I like how you look at me,” you added. “Even when you try not to.”

He swallowed hard. His jaw worked. When he spoke, his voice was barely above a whisper, rough and honest and cracked at the edges.

“I am trying real hard right now.”

You smiled. A slow, sinful curl of your lips. “You don’t have to.”

Then, in the softest voice you had used with him yet, “Stand up for me, James.”

He obeyed before he realized he had moved. The stool scraped back against the tile, and suddenly he was towering over you—tall, flushed to the tips of his ears, trying not to tremble.

You stepped closer. Close enough that the fabric of your robe brushed his barely opened shirt. Close enough that your breath touched his mouth. You could feel the heat radiating off him, the slight shake in his hands as they hung at his sides, not quite daring to reach for you.

“You want me,” you said. Not a question. A truth spoken plainly, laid out on the counter between you like a confession.

He nodded. Hard. His jaw worked, and when he spoke, his voice cracked on the first word.

“I been tryin’ not to,” he whispered. “Swear I been tryin’, ma’am. Every time I see you at that door, I tell myself—” He broke off, swallowing. “I tell myself to just hand you the mail and go. Just walk away.”

“But you don’t.”

“No, ma’am.” His eyes dropped to your lips. “I can’t.”

You touched his jaw. The barest brush of your fingertips against the stubble along his cheekbone. He shivered under your touch.

“I don’t want you to try anymore.”

His eyes darkened. Something shifted behind them, the last thread of restraint snapping. What was left was something hungry. Something young and desperate and finally set free. His breathing turned shallow. His hands curled into fists at his sides, then released.

“M-Mrs. Rumlow,” he breathed, voice shaking, “if I touch you I’m not gonna be able to stop.”

You tilted your chin up, lips inches from his. Close enough to taste the warmth of his breath, to see the fine tremor in his lower lip.

“Good.”

That was it. That was the spark.

He grabbed your waist with both hands, strong fingers digging into silk and skin, pulling you into him with a force that stole your breath. His mouth crashed into yours. Hungry and messy and eager. A young man who had been imagining this for months and finally snapped.

You gasped against his lips, and he swallowed the sound, took the chance to push his tongue into your mouth. He tasted like lemonade and something masculine. His hands moved without permission, shoving your robe open at your hips, dragging you against his body like he needed to feel every inch of you through the thin silk.

He kissed you like he was starving. Like you were the first taste of anything real in his short, hungry life. His fingers dug into the soft flesh of your hips, and you felt the tremble in his arms, the barely leashed violence of his need.

You let him. You let him take. You let him lose control.

Because you had been waiting for this. For this exact moment.

You pulled back just enough to whisper against his lips, “Take me, James.”

The hallway was a blur.

You didn't remember crossing it. You didn't remember the robe slipping from your shoulders and pooling on the floor. You didn't remember the bedroom door swinging open, or the way the afternoon light fell across the bed in golden stripes.

What you remembered was the moment Bucky lost control.

The moment his hands gripped your thighs like he needed to hold you in place or he’d fall apart. The moment he lowered you onto the mattress, his body covering yours, the weight of him pressing you into the sheets.

The moment he said your name.

Not ma’am. Not Mrs. Rumlow. Not anything polite or proper.

But your name, whispered like a sin he was dying to commit, like he’d been saving it for this exact moment, tasting it on his tongue for the first time.

“Please,” he breathed, hot against your neck, lips brushing the thrumming pulse at your throat. “Please let me.”

And then he pushed inside you.

Your gasp broke in half. Your fingers clutched the sheets. Your breasts arched into his chest on instinct, a reflexive surrender.

You cunt was soaked, open and ready, aching for him in a way you hadn’t ached for anything in years. But he still felt too big. Too deep. The stretch of him made your eyes roll back, made your breath catch in your throat.

You hadn’t been touched like this in years. Not with intention. Not with fire. Not with the kind of desperate, worshipful need that made you feel like you were the only woman in the world.

“You feel so good,” he groaned, burying his face in the crook of your shoulder. His voice was muffled against your skin, rough and broken. “God, you feel—fuck—”

Each thrust was harder. Needier and more frantic. The headboard knocked against the wall in a steady rhythm, the sound mixing with the ragged fall of his breathing, the wet, slick sound of him moving inside you.

He fucked you like he was making up for every time he watched you from the sidewalk and imagined what you’d sound like under him. Like he’d been storing up this hunger for weeks, months, and finally had permission to let it out.

You dragged your nails down his back and he trembled, a full-body shudder that made him bury himself deeper.

“Easy,” you whispered, breath hot in his ear. “Slow down, sweetheart.”

He shook his head, fucking into you harder, faster, his rhythm falling apart at the edges.

“I can’t,” he said, voice cracking. “I can’t, I’m sorry, I—been wanting you so long—”

You grabbed his jaw. Forced him to look at you.

His pupils were blown, dark as ink. His cheeks were flushed, his lips red and swollen from kissing you too hard. A strand of hair had fallen across his forehead, and he looked wrecked in the most beautiful way.

“Then take what you want,” you said softly, stroking his cheek with your thumb. “Come on, baby. Don’t hold back.”

He broke.

His mouth crashed onto yours again, sloppy and desperate. His hips snapped forward in a brutal rhythm, the headboard slamming the wall in a steady, percussive beat. Each thrust drove the air from your lungs, your tits bouncing with every impact.

He stared at you like he’d never seen a naked woman in his life, like you were something sacred and filthy all at once. His gaze traced the curve of your breasts, the flush spreading across your chest, the way your body moved beneath him.

“You’re so beautiful,” he gasped, the words tumbling out broken. “Been dreamin’ about you in this bed—fuck—thought about it every damn night. Every time I walked past your door, I’d picture you right here, spread out for me.”

You moaned, loud and shameless, your fingers threading through his damp hair and tugging him down. Your mouth met his in a kiss that bruised, tongues sliding, the taste of salt and lemon mingling between you.

He kissed like he fucked. All tongue and breath and raw, unfettered hunger. He sucked your bottom lip into his mouth and moaned into the kiss, his cock still pounding into you with that relentless, youthful urgency.

“You like this?” he panted, pulling back just enough to meet your eyes. His were glassy, pupils blown wide. “You like how I fuck you? Tell me. Please—I need to hear it. I need to know I’m doin’ it right.”

Your voice came out broken, barely recognizable. “Yes. God, yes. Harder—don’t stop—”

His grip shifted. One hand stayed firm on your hip, fingers digging into the soft flesh. The other slid under your thigh, lifting it higher, angling you deeper, opening you to him in a way that made stars burst behind your eyelids.

“Shit—James—”

“I know, I know—feels good, right?” His voice was ragged, breath sawing in and out of his lungs. “I can feel you—fuck—you’re squeezin’ me, ma’am. Like you don’t wanna let me go.”

He was falling apart. You were too. Your nails dragged down his shoulders, leaving red crescents in their wake. Your breath hitched, stuttered, dissolved into a whimper. Your thighs quivered around his waist, the muscles trembling with the effort of holding on.

“Don’t stop,” you whined, the plea ripping out of your throat. “Don’t you dare stop—”

His voice broke completely, cracking under the weight of his own need. “I’m not. I’m not. I’m gonna stay right here—gonna give you everything, Mrs. Rumlow—everythin’ I got—”

Your orgasm hit you so hard you didn’t even register your own moan. It tore through you like a wave, white-hot and blinding, clamping down around him in rhythmic pulses that stole your breath and turned your limbs to jelly. Your back arched off the bed, your fingers twisting in the sheets, your vision going white at the edges.

Bucky’s breath caught in his throat as he felt you clench around him, a sudden grip that dragged him over the edge with you.

“Oh—oh my God—” he gasped, his rhythm faltering, his hips stuttering. “You’re—fuck—you’re cummin’—”

And then he fell apart inside you.

A guttural, broken groan tore out of his chest as he thrust deep burying himself to the hilt while he spilled into you with an urgency that bordered on desperate. His body shook, every muscle taut, his hands clutching your hips like you were the only solid thing in a world that had just tilted sideways.

His forehead fell to your shoulder, his breath hot and uneven against your sweat-slicked skin. He breathed you in; the scent of your perfume, the salt of your skin, the lingering musk of sex, and let out a shuddering exhale.

“Mrs. Rumlow…” he whispered, like a confession. His voice was raw and hoarse. Then, as he slowly pulled out, the loss of him making you feel suddenly empty, he added, “I… I don’t wanna stop.”

You stroked the back of his head gently, your nails grazing the nape of his neck, tracing the fine hairs there. His skin was damp, warm, trembling slightly under your touch.

“You don’t have to, sweetheart,” you murmured, the words low and honeyed.

He lifted his head. His eyes were blown wide, dark and glassy. His hair was a wild mess, plastered to his forehead with sweat. His cheeks were flushed, his lips red and swollen, and under all that, still hard, still pressing against your thigh with stubborn, unapologetic desire.

“I can go again,” he whispered, almost frightened of his own need. “Please let me. I know I just—but I need—please, I ain’t done with you yet.”

Your fingers raked through his damp hair, smoothing it back from his brow. He was so young. So pink. So earnest in his hunger. You’d just let him cum inside you, and he still looked like he wanted to say thank you.

You kissed the corner of his mouth, tasting the salt of his skin.

“Breathe, honey,” you whispered, your lips brushing against his. “You’re not done yet.”

And before he could even answer, you shifted from underneath him, a slow, fluid motion that left him blinking, confused, his body still humming with unspent need. You climbed onto all fours, and looked back over your shoulder at him. The afternoon light caught the curve of your spine, the dip of your waist, the soft swell of your hips.

You looked over your shoulder at him, a lazy, knowing smile curving your lips.

“Come here, James. Show me what else you’ve been dreaming about.”

His eyes went wide. The pupils had already swallowed most of the blue, leaving just a thin ring of colour around the black. His chest heaved, still slick with sweat, a fine sheen glistening across his collarbones and the hollow of his throat.

You didn’t have to tell him twice.

He was already fully hard again, flushed tip, veins twitching along the shaft, the head glistening with a mixture of your combined slick. When he slid behind you, it wasn’t with the frantic rush you expected. He took his time. Let his hands trace the curve of your ass first, palming the roundness like he couldn’t believe it was real.

“Fuck,” he breathed, voice hushed and awed. “You’re perfect. I swear to god—”

“Show me, then,” you said. “Show me how perfect I am.”

His hands tightened. Fingers digging into the soft flesh of your hips, anchoring himself. And then, he pushed in again. Thick and warm, the slick heat of you parting around him like you’d been waiting for this very moment. You moaned like you meant it, your forehead dropping to the sheets as he filled you inch by inch.

“Jesus—still so fuckin’ wet—” he hissed, hips stuttering as he bottomed out, pressing flush against you.

You were. Dripping with the evidence of his first release and still greedy for more. The feeling of him sliding into that already-fucked heat sent a shiver through you, your inner walls clenching instinctively around him.

“Harder,” you rasped, cheek pressed to the mattress, the words muffled but clear. “I can take it. Come on, honey. Fuck me.”

His grip on your hips turned bruising, fingers pressing deep enough to leave marks you’d find tomorrow. His thrusts came harder, deeper, desperate and sloppy with sound. The wet, obscene noise of his cock driving into you filled the room, mingling with his ragged breaths and your broken moans. He was panting behind you, fingers digging in as he drove into you like he wanted to climb inside, to bury himself so deep you’d never forget the shape of him.

You arched your back, pressed into him, gave him more. Your breasts swung beneath you, nipples dragging against the sheets with each impact. The sensation sent sparks through your chest.

“That’s it, baby. That’s it. Use me.”

“You’re gonna ruin me,” he gasped, his voice cracking. “You’re gonna fuckin’ ruin me, ma’am. I’m never gonna be able to look at another woman without thinkin’ of you.”

And you smiled, even as your mouth fell open with another moan as his cock hit that spot deep inside you, the one that made your vision blur and your toes curl.

The room was hot. The sheets wrinkled and twisted beneath you. Skin stuck together wherever you touched, his thighs against yours, his chest against your back when he leaned forward, his breath hot on your shoulder blade. The scent of sex clung to every inch of air; sharp and sweet, salt and musk, the metallic tang of arousal and the warmth of two bodies pushed past their limits.

Slap—slap—slap of skin meeting skin. The desperate whine building in his throat. The soft chant of your name breaking from his lips like a prayer, ma’am, Mrs. Rumlow, please, please, each syllable punctuated by a thrust.

“You like this?” you managed to gasp, your voice frayed at the edges. “Fucking a married woman? In her bed? Filling her up like a good boy?”

He whimpered. The sound was raw, stripped of all pretense.

“Yes—yes, ma’am—fuck—” His rhythm faltered, his hips stuttering as he fought for control. “Please let me cum again. Please. I’ll do anythin’—I’ll be so good—”

You reached between your legs and rubbed your clit with two fingers, the pressure just enough to send sparks up your spine, to tighten the coil building low in your belly. Your hips pushed back to meet his thrusts, driving him deeper.

“Then do it,” you moaned, the words thick with approaching release. “Cum in me, James. Again. Show me how much you want me.”

He buried himself so deep you swore you could feel it in your throat, a fullness that stole your breath, that made your eyes roll back. And with a strangled grunt, he came again.

Pulsing inside you like he never wanted to leave. You felt each spasm, each flood of warmth, each desperate clench of his hands on your hips as he emptied himself into you.

The sensation pushed you over the edge. You followed hard, clenching around him, crying out into the sheets as your body finally gave out. The tremors ran through you in waves, stealing your strength, turning your limbs to jelly. Your arms collapsed beneath you, and you sank into the mattress, cheek pressed to the damp fabric.

But he stayed inside. Held your hips. Rested his forehead on your back and just breathed, hot, uneven puffs of air against your spine.

You didn’t move at first. Didn’t speak. Didn’t reach for the sheets to cover yourself. Just lay there, chest pressed to the mattress, skin hot and slick with sweat and the evidence of what you’d done, your breath slowing in the heavy stillness of the room.

The clock on the nightstand ticked. Somewhere outside, a bird sang. Life continued in the world beyond these walls, oblivious to the sin unfolding in this bed.

You felt the soft drag of Bucky’s fingers down your spine. Tracing each vertebrae like he was memorising you.

“Jesus Christ,” he whispered, voice still shaking, still raw. “I can’t believe that just happened.”

You smiled into the pillow, eyes closed, lips curving against the cotton.

“Believe it,” you murmured, voice rasped and ruined. “You earned it.”

He laughed, a breathless sound that didn’t quite mask the wonder in it, and pressed a kiss between your shoulder blades. His lips lingered, warm and soft.

And then another. And another. Trailing up the ridge of your spine to the nape of your neck, where he nuzzled into the fine hairs there and let out a contented sigh.

“I don’t wanna leave,” he mumbled against your skin. “Ever.”

You hummed, a low, pleased sound. Your hand reached back blindly, finding his head, patting it once.

“Then stay a little longer, sweetheart. Clock’s not even at twelve yet.”

He shifted, pulling out slowly, the loss of him making you feel suddenly empty, a faint ache in its wake.

“Are you okay?” he asked quietly, nosing into your hair, his breath warm against your scalp. The question came out hushed, almost fragile. “Did I—was I too rough?”

You shook your head, eyes half-lidded, a lazy smile tugging at your lips. The pillowcase was cool beneath your cheek, a soft counterpoint to the heat still radiating from your skin.

“No, honey. You were perfect.”

That made him groan, the sound vibrating against your back where his chest pressed flush against you. You could feel his cock twitch, still half-hard against your thigh, a stubborn pulse of warmth that refused to fully subside.

He shifted beside you, curling around your back, fitting himself to the curve of your spine like he’d been made to fill that space. His mouth kept moving, over your shoulder, across the delicate skin where your neck met your collarbone, pressing featherlight kisses that made your breath catch.

“I’ve never…” He paused, his lips still against your skin. “I’ve never felt anything like that.”

His hand slid up your stomach, palm flat, fingers tracing lazy circles into the soft plane of your belly. It came to rest just beneath your breasts, close enough that you could feel the heat radiating from his palm.

“You’re so fuckin’ soft,” he whispered, wonder threading through the words. “I can’t stop touching you.”

“Then don’t.”

You meant it. Let him have you. Let him touch and kiss and worship every inch of you until your skin felt new again, until the ghost of Brock’s careless hands was erased entirely, replaced by the devotion of this boy who acted like you were something special.

His lips found your jaw. Your cheek. The slope of your neck where your pulse still fluttered. He kissed the hollow of your throat, and you felt the tip of his tongue.

“Can I stay a little longer?” His voice was quieter now. Stripped of the confident swagger he’d worn on your doorstep. This was the boy beneath the uniform, the one who still got nervous around pretty girls and asked permission like he expected to be denied.

You turned your head, looked him in the eye for the first time since you’d let him fuck you senseless. The blue of his irises was hazy, pupils still blown wide, but there was something raw there too. Something that needed to hear the answer.

“You can stay as long as you want, honey.”

His exhale was shaky. His forehead dropped to yours, nose brushing against your cheek, and he let out a sound that was half-sigh of relief.

“Yeah?”

“Yes, James.”

He smiled. A real one, boyish and crooked.

You lay there for a while, tangled together in the wreckage of the sheets, letting your heartbeat settle, letting the room breathe around you. The afternoon light had shifted, softer now, casting long shadows across the floor.

Bucky eventually had to pull away to dress again. He stumbled a little getting off the bed, his legs still unsteady, and you watched him gather his uniform from where it lay scattered across the floor. He flushed every time he caught your eye, a pink bloom creeping up his neck and across his cheeks.

He kept looking back at you. At your thighs still parted, at the imprint of your body on the mattress he’d just ruined.

You watched him pull his uniform pants back up, hands shaking as he fumbled with the zipper. His tucked-in shirt stuck to the sweat drying on his chest, and he smoothed it down like he was trying to make himself look respectable again.

Like he hadn’t just spent the last hour moaning into your pillow.

When he reached the doorway of your bedroom, his steps slowed. His hand came up to grip the doorframe, knuckles whitening. He hesitated. Then lingered.

“Um… I should… I gotta get back,” he muttered, voice small, almost apologetic. “My route. They’ll notice if I’m gone too long.”

You nodded gently, propping yourself up on one elbow.

He looked down at the floor. At the worn wooden boards. Then at you again, as if drawn by some invisible force.

“Was that… was this just…?”

He swallowed, his jaw flexing as if the words hurt to push past his teeth. “Was it just a one-time thing?”

You didn’t move. Not at first. You let him stand there, already addicted, already terrified of losing something he never thought he could have. The silence stretched, just long enough to make him fidget.

“I… I didn’t mean to cross a line,” he said quickly, the words tumbling out in a rush. “I know you’re married. I just— I couldn’t help it. Every time I saw you at that door, I couldn’t think straight. And if you don’t want to see me again, I—”

You didn’t let him finish.

You slid out of bed, the sheets pooling at your feet, not bothering to cover yourself. The air hit your skin, but you didn’t shiver. You walked toward him slowly, each step intentional, the floorboards creaking beneath your bare feet.

When you reached him, you put your hands on his face, palms against his stubbled jaw, fingers threading into the hair at his temples. His skin was warm, and he leaned into your touch like a man starved for it.

His breath stopped altogether.

And you kissed him.

A slow, sultry kiss, tongue sliding into his mouth, your body pressed against his until you felt the hard line of him through his uniform pants. He groaned softly against your lips, the sound swallowed by the kiss, his free hand coming up to grip your waist like he might fall without you.

His fingers curled into the doorframe with his other hand, white-knuckled, like he needed the support to stay upright. His chest heaved against yours.

When you finally pulled back, his eyes were dazed. Puppy-soft.

You brushed your thumb over his cheek, feeling the faint stubble, the heat still lingering in his skin.

“Baby,” you whispered, lips grazing his, close enough that you felt his breath ghost across your mouth. “I’ll see you again on Thursday.”

He exhaled like you’d just saved his life. Like you’d reached into his chest and wrapped your hand around his heart and told him it was safe to keep beating.

“Thursday,” he repeated, dazed, the word rolling off his tongue like a prayer. “Yeah. Okay. I’ll… I’ll be here.”

You smiled. Soft and sure. A promise sealed in the space between your bodies.

“I know you will.”

He stared at you one last time, like he didn’t want to look away, like leaving meant losing something he’d only just found. His eyes traced your face, your lips, the line of your throat where his mouth had been. Then he forced himself to turn, to walk out of the bedroom, down the hallway, toward the front door.

You followed at a distance, leaning against the wall just inside the living room, watching through the sheer curtain as he stepped outside. He paused on the porch, shoulders tense, one hand pressed over his mouth like he was still trying to understand what you’d done to him.

He walked down the path, past the rose bushes, past the mailbox, towards his truck, his steps heavy and light all at once. At the gate, he stopped. Turned back. Looked at the house.

At the window where you stood, half-hidden behind the curtain.

He didn’t wave, he just looked. A long, searching look that said everything his stammering words couldn’t.

Then he turned and disappeared down the street, his mailbag slapping against his hip, his life forever changed by the woman in the window.

After that Tuesdays and Thursdays became your favourite days of the week.

The clock became your accomplice. You’d watch the hands crawl toward 10:45, feel the familiar flutter build in your chest, absolute anticipation. That electric hum that made everything sharper, brighter, more alive.

By the time his footsteps sounded on the porch, you were already at the door.

He never had to knock again.

The first Thursday after that Tuesday, you opened it before his knuckles could meet wood, and he stood there, mailbag slung across his body, cap in hand, that boyish grin already spreading across his face. But his eyes were different now. Hungrier. Like he’d spent the the last two days reliving every second.

“Good mornin’,” he said, voice low, glancing down the street before stepping inside.

You didn’t bother with pleasantries. You grabbed his collar, pulled him into the kitchen, and pushed him against the counter.

He laughed against your mouth, surprised and delighted. “Damn, woman—”

You bit his lower lip. “Shut up and kiss me.”

He did.

The kitchen became a playground. Flour dusted the counter where he’d lifted you onto it, your legs wrapped around his waist, his hands gripping your hips as he fucked you slow and deep. The sun streamed through the window, catching the sweat on his chest, and you remembered thinking, this is what mornings should feel like.

“I couldn’t stop thinkin’ about you,” he murmured against your throat, thrusting up into you. “All day. Every night.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.” He buried his face in your neck, breath hot and ragged. “Kept seein’ you in my head. The way you looked at me when I—”

You pulled his head back, made him look at you. “When you what, honey?”

His cheeks flushed. “When I came inside you.”

You smiled, slow and wicked, and clenched around him. He groaned, head falling forward.

“Good,” you whispered. “You keep thinking about it.”

The stairs came next.

It was Tuesday, and you’d been waiting at the top of the staircase when he walked in. You’d worn nothing but his cap, the mailman’s cap you’d stolen from his head the week before, and peered down at him from the landing.

His eyes went wide. His mouth dropped open.

“Mrs. Rumlow…”

“You coming up or not?”

He took the stairs two at a time, but you didn’t let him reach the top. You met him halfway, pushed him onto his knees, and let him bury his face between your thighs right there on the steps. His hands gripped your hips, his mouth worked you until your knees buckled, and you came with your fingers tangled in his hair, your back against the banister, the wood creaking beneath you.

He looked up at you afterward, lips slick, eyes dazed. “I’m gonna get fired if I keep this up.”

You helped him stand, kissed the taste of yourself off his mouth. “Then get fired. I’ll keep you.”

He laughed, breathless, and pulled you into the bedroom.

The dining table became an altar.

It was a Thursday, and you’d set it for two; plates, silverware, a vase of fresh roses, but lunch sat untouched. Instead, he bent you over the mahogany surface, your palms flat against the wood, his body pressed against your back. The china rattled with every thrust. A glass clattered to the floor, shattering.

“Sorry,” he gasped, stilling for a moment.

“Don’t stop.” You pushed back against him. “Don’t you dare stop.”

He didn’t.

Afterward, you lay tangled on the rug, your head on his chest, his fingers tracing lazy patterns on your arm. The afternoon light filtered through the lace curtains, casting patterns across the floor.

“I ever tell you what I think about?” he asked quietly.

“What?”

He turned his head, kissed your hair. “When I’m out on my route. Walkin’ up all those driveways. I pretend every door is yours. Every house. Just… imagine your face, waitin’ for me on the other side.”

You lifted your head, looked at him. “That’s sweet, James.”

His ears went red. “Yeah, well. Don’t tell nobody.”

The Cadillac was your pièce de résistance.

Brock had taken it out just once that month, to some dinner with his boss, and he’d left it in the garage, waxed and gleaming, untouched. You knew exactly where he kept the spare key.

You led Bucky out there with your fingers laced through his, past the gardening tools and the oil-stained floor. When he saw the car, he stopped.

“Shit. You’re not serious.”

“Open the door.”

“Mrs. Rumlow, your husband will kill me if he finds out—”

“Bucky.” You turned, pressed yourself against him, looked up through your lashes. “Don’t you want to know what it feels like to fuck another man’s wife in his own car?”

His breath caught. His hands trembled. And then he was fumbling with the door handle, pushing you into the backseat, following you in.

The leather was cool against your skin. The windows fogged up fast. He moved above you, inside you, his mouth against your ear, whispering things that would’ve made a priest blush.

“You’re gonna be the death of me,” he breathed.

“Then die happy, sweetheart.”

He came with a shudder, his face pressed into your shoulder, his body shaking. You held him through it, ran your fingers through his damp hair, felt the last tremors ripple through him.

He pulled back, looked at you like you’d rewritten the stars.

“I don’t have much,” he said softly. “But everything I got? It’s yours.”

You cupped his face, kissed him slow. “I know, baby.”

And every time, he looked at you like you were the only thing in the world that mattered.

The way he’d trace the lines of your face afterward, like he was memorising you. The way he’d whisper your name. The way he’d hold you after, his arms wrapped around you like he was afraid you’d disappear.

Maybe you weren’t in love. Not the kind you read about in books, anyway. Not the kind that lasted.

But you were wanted.

Every Tuesday. Every Thursday. Every time he stepped through that door, you saw it in his eyes; that hungry, desperate, devoted look that said you were the best part of his week, the secret he’d carry to his grave, the woman who’d ruined him for anyone else.

And for now, that was enough.

a/n | yeah reading back on this, it’s very repetitive in some parts, maybe that’s why i didn’t post it, srry for keeping this fic hostage for eight months chat

but… Yeah! thx for reading

[tainted-wine]

Caring For Your Hormonally-Charged Bird

Hawks x Reader (NSFW)

(I didn’t mean for this to turn into a monster with over 7k words, but I finally finished it. This is based off of my mutant headcanons and also takes some inspiration from user kazooli’s awesome thirst posts about Hawks. Happy Springtime, everyone!)

Edit: Now there’s a Part 2!

——————————

The songs of lovestruck birds rang across the streets. Freshly bloomed cherry blossoms rained petals down onto the pavement. Butterflies and bees hovered around the flourishing flowers. It was undoubtedly a beautiful day. Too bad you had to spend it in an office with an oncoming headache. A familiar voice spoke behind you.

“Wow, look at that. I don’t know what’s more gorgeous; the scenery outside or the lady staring at it.”

Hawks’s charm doesn’t affect you when he has pissed you off so many times in such a short span.

Keep reading

[inkykeiji]

anon said: tiny appreciation for 50s keigo, who i don’t think would be an outright scumbag but definitely sleazy and making plenty of use of a nice red classic car at the drive in with all the girls he’s sweet talked into going with him

genre: smut + a sprinkle of fluff | set in my 1950s au!

warnings: 18+, kinda sleazy 1950s keigo who harasses reader at work, kinda dubcon, a hint of degradation, a hint of dacryphilia, a very clueless innocent virgin reader, fingering in a semi-public space

words: 4.1k

synopsis:

Because he is wearing you down, just like he said he would, taking note of which of his lines and smiles and looks, which of his techniques, induce a positive reaction—which make your eyelashes flutter as you avoid his piercing gaze, which make your tongue trip over itself as you try to formulate a response, which cause your voice to quiver in the most delicious way.

And you know he knows, too. Because you can see it, the way his pupils expand the moment you slip up, the way the corners of his mouth—always shaped in that signature easygoing grin—twitch up just a little, morphing into a sharp smirk for just a second, the way his topaz eyes glint with danger and mischief, with want and need, with the desire to own. It all sends spiky chills skittering up your spine, crawling under your skin and erupting in the form of pebbled skin.

Keep reading

[kumori-suwan]

Paint a Picture

KNY SMUT

Gyomei x Wife! Reader x Tengen

Your skin was just so beautiful and pure, just begging to be used like the canvas it was and yet you never gave Tengen the chance to work his magic on you. He fantasized how your neck and chest would look covered in love bites and hickies of all shapes, sizes, and colors. How your hips would look so beautiful with the bruises of his hands imprinted to the skin from him holding you so passionately. Or how his white milk would look so beautiful running down the corners of your plump kissable lips but there was just one big problem, you’re husband. Tengen didn’t care that he was shamelessly flirting with you in front of your blind husband but regardless of your sweet laughs and smiles towards him you stayed loyal to Gyomei. While on a joint mission with the Stone Hashira, Tengen believed he would finally have some alone time with you but he was oh so wrong.

He noticed you coming fresh out of the hot springs, the soft silk bathrobe barely hanging onto your wet skin as you looked around for something. He quietly raced up to you and caught your wrist since your instincts had kicked in to attack the person charging at you.

“Hello my little cherry blossom, that red paint on your lips looks beautiful. Bet it would look just as pretty on my lips, why not give me a kiss and try it out?”, Tengen teases you yet again wrapping an arm around your waist and pulling you close until your noses are just inches apart.

You smile up at him and sigh, “As I’ve said before Tengen I will not join your little harem of wives. Unfortunately for you I am a very possessive woman that requires the complete heart and soul of my partner and Gyomei is all that I want in a husband.”

His face scrunches up in disgust, once again it appears he’s lost. Gyomei’s crow lands on your shoulder squawking at the silver haired Hashira until a tall menacing man hover over you both.

“Hello my love.”, Gyomei hums gently reaching a large hand out to you.

You squirm out of Tengen’s grip and race to place your hand in your husband’s, you carefully lead his palm to your head and smile as his thumb brushes over your cheek in a soft sweet gesture. Gyomei was no fool, he knew Tengen was stepping out of line with you and he wouldn’t let that continue anymore. The large man towered over his companion and smiled, “Uzui please join us in our room around midnight tonight, I have something to discuss with you.”

“(Y/n) I’d like to go to our room now.”, Gyomei speaks so softly to once again reaching his hand out for you.

Tengen is left in the hallway speechless as the young couple leave him alone in the Inn’s hallway. He waits patiently for midnight and creeps to your room as silently as he can, but he senses something strange in the air. Muffled noises leak from the thin doors, a hormonal scent of pure bodily passion fills the air, it makes his heart race and he realizes just when Gyomei wanted. He opens the sliding door for a peek and that’s where he sees it…

In all your bare glory he is blessed with the sight of your naked body taking in the hard fat cock of your husband. Gyomei hushes your whiny moans with wet kisses as he slams your hips down on his aching cock. A white ring of your cum circles the base of his cock getting wetter with each bounce of your hips. Soft gummy walls struggle to stretch over Gyomei’s girth but you don’t seem to be in any pain, you beg for more against his lips. Whining, crying, begging, Gyomei to go faster and deeper in you even as your body shakes violently through another orgasm. Tengen is shocked to see your small frame squirting over his comrade’s cock, but you look so breathtaking in all your lewd glory.

“Gyomei I need more please.”, you whine rocking your hips which forces your cream to spill out.

Gyomei chuckles at your desperate pleads and kisses your lips, he slams your hips down further on his cock. Your cute pussy has his fat cock covered in slick and juices making it glide easily inside your plush walls. Fuchsia eyes watch carefully to every detail of the veiny shaft that is causing such beautiful noise to pour from your lips. Gyomei throbs and twitches against your walls as a deep low grunt comes from his chest, your toes are curling in pleasure with the full feeling of his seed inside of you. You lean back, arching your back against the cool wood tile of the room. You notice your hidden guest and smile, Gyomei can sense Tengen just outside the door and smiles knowing that he’s proving just who you belong to. “Tengen why don’t you join us?”

The white haired man gasps quietly outside of your door, he’d been caught but the throbbing beast in his robe drove him to push forward. He tries to play it cool, he can’t let his image be ruined just from seeing you pleasured beyond belief. Tengen shuts the door behind him and smiles, “Well I must say you two are certainly a spectacle together. The raw passion of you fucking your wife in such a way is remarkable Gyomei.”

Your husband is unamused by Tengen’s words, he lifts you up and pulls his throbbing cock from your tight cunt making you tremble with glee as his thick load pours from your tiny cunt. “I don’t find pleasure from “fucking” my wife Tengen, I find pleasure from peacefully breeding her and fulfilling her desire to carry my offspring. I’m proving to hungry shameless men like you that women deserves love not overwhelming passion to be happy.”, Gyomei’s words are precise and stern making you smile. Even as his seed spills from your gaping cunt to the awaiting cock below you, you can’t help but kiss him ever so sweetly.

“Gyomei I love you so much.”, you smile forgetting Tengen in the room.

Your hips try to slide back down on his cock but Gyomei doesn’t allow you to, he fills your pussy with two of his thick fingers and moves your lips to his neck, “Come now Tengen, I’m sure my wife can handle your size. You want his cock don’t you my love?”

You whimper against your husband’s neck trying to push your pussy on to his cock but he won’t allow it, “Only Gyomei’s. Only want yours honey.”, you sob.

Jealousy is boiling in Tengen’s blood, he wants you to whine for him like that and as the offer stands he chooses to pleasure you. He strips of his robe leaving him naked and spits into his palm before rubbing it against the shaft of his cock. You can feel it slapping against your clit making you whine, “I’m gonna make you fall in love with me, beautiful little slut.”

You squeal against your husband’s neck, Tengen isn’t as thick as Gyomei but he certainly fills you up. He’s rough with you, a tight grip on your hips as he slams his cock into your creamy pussy pushing out Gyomei’s load with each thrust.

“Tengen, why don’t you describe her to me? Paint a picture of my (Y/n) with words so that I can imagine what she looks like while you fill her.”, Gyomei hums softly brushing your hair out of your face gently.

Tengen stares down at you taking in every detail of your lewd form, “Her sweet pussy takes me in whole, she’s all wet and gummy inside. Sucking me back in if I dare to pull away, her back is arched with pleasure making her hips stick out more for me. She’s glowing, glowing under the soft candle light like a star. She’s gorgeous, that cute pouty face is just begging for a kiss, why don’t you kiss her Gyomei. She wants it.”

Tengen’s hand circles over your hips reaching down to your soaked clit making you whimper with pleasure. His rough thrusts are driving you crazy but Tengen just can’t reach your special spot like Gyomei can.

“Sweet little clit is all erect just from us playing with her, she’s soaking my hand with her sweet nectar and I can’t get over her sweet moans. Music to my ear, makes the sound of my balls slapping against her ass seem like nothing compared to these sweet moans. Come on Love, sing some more for us.”, Tengen chuckles against your neck, biting into the sensitive skin to watch you melt below him.

Gyomei’s weeping cock rubs against your breast obviously wanting attention, while Tengen watches, you take the head of your husband’s fat cock into your mouth and gently squeeze your breasts against the shaft making a deep airy moan erupt from Gyomei’s lips.

“Darling that feels so wonderful, you’re so perfect. Please suck my cock as much as you want.”, he groans.

You smile against his shaft and slowly take more into your mouth, even as Tengen rearranged your guts Gyomei still has all of your attention.

“Tch- doesn’t look like I’ll win you over no matter what I do. Happily sucking on his cock like it’s a lollipop, you shouldn’t be picky about what you’re gifted (Y/n), it’s rude.”

You whine is barely heard from your occupied mouth as a heavy hand slaps your ass. You clench tightly around Tengen’s cock making him chuckle with glee, he slaps you again feeling you clamp around him with each strike to your ass. He continues narrating the lewd display before him making Gyomei smile, he’s sure to pay attention to every little detail while his large hand gently massages you arched back. Both of their cocks begin to twitch signaling their nearing release, you aren’t sure if you’re ready for it but you need it so badly.

“(Y/n) is clamping down on my dick so good, I can barely move. I’m gonna fill her tight pussy while she swallows your load, or maybe I should choke her and make her hold your fat seed inside of her mouth? Do you want that (Y/n) hmm?”, Tengen tries to play cute but you flick the base of his cock for asking such a stupid question.

He returns his hands to your hips and starts fucking you faster ready to fill you up, he wants to leave his permanent mark on you that way neither of you forget this night.

“T-Tengen!”, you finally scream, you’re wiggling your hips away to avoid the pleasure he brings you but he doesn’t let you.

He slams your mouth right back down on Gyomei’s cock and holds it there while his free hand pulls you right back on to his aching cock. The vibrations of your moans send Gyomei into his third orgasm of the night and that causes a chain reaction. You clamp down hard around Tengen’s pulsing member and moan loudly as a new warmth fills your cunt. The white haired man is shaking from the intense orgasm all of his muscles are spasming watching you swallow a huge cock in your tiny mouth. His seed is spilling out from your stuffed hole coating his cock in the nice creamy substance. You pull away from Gyomei’s member and swallow the remaining cum in your mouth before gasping for breath. Tengen pulls out of your tired body and watches you collapse into Gyomei’s chest where you whine and moan for comfort. Gyomei scoops you up and praises you for a job well done, “You certainly painted a vivid picture of my wife Uzui-San but I don’t think it met my standards.”

Fuchsia eyes watch in shock as the large stone hashira lays down on his back and sits your cum filled pussy on his face to eat out the mixed seeds that reside in your abused pussy. You’re trembling above him but smile at your guest with glee, “Come now Tengen, I want a taste with this mouth as well.”, you hum sticking out your tongue mischievously.

“You little whore.”, he growls playfully.

The night is filled with moans and detailed descriptions of your sexual affairs, Tengen gets his fill of you and accepts his loss, but he becomes aware that Group Sex is always an option.

[diaphanoso]

HASHIRA MEN + SOMNOPHILIA

mature content warnings:

somnophilia, thigh fucking, hand jobs, riding, fingering, oral (f. receiving), creampie

KYOJURO:

kyo often finds himself restless at night, shifting around in unsettling positions while you lie dreaming beside him. he knows that you'd do anything to help him fall asleep, even if you're not awake to provide him with the help he needs. but kyo finds his cock poking up into his boxers at the sound of your soft breaths, your chest rising and falling gently. sometimes he'll find himself mindlessly humping against your thigh, letting out shaky stifled moans. he'll slip his painfully hard cock from his boxers, rutting it between your bare thighs. kyo whispers sweet words to you, telling you how good you're making him feel, even if you can't hear it.

"thank you, baby. such a good girl for me, feels so g-good."

GIYU:

the first time for giyu was purely on accident - he was half-asleep, his hips pressed up against your ass as he rolled his hips a few times, cumming in his boxers and waking up the next morning to find himself a mess. but the second time wasn't an accident - your hand was right there, after all. he worked carefully, grasping your hand gently and using it to jerk himself off. it was so much better than his own hand, even if he had to give you some help. but he couldn't resist the desperation, even though he much prefers your pussy.

"oh, just like that- shit. god, you treat me so well."

GYOMEI:

gyomei wakes up sometimes to you whining and moaning in your slumber, knowing all-too-well that you were dreaming about him again. who would a caring gyomei be to not help you out? he spreads your thighs carefully, slipping his fingers under your panties and finding your cunt slicked - just as he expected. he loves fingering you like that, hearing your moans get louder in your sleep. gyomei won't stop 'til you cum around his fingers, a sigh leaving his lips as he knows you're finally satisfied.

"that's my girl, cum around my fingers. i know you wanna, let me hear that pretty sound you make."

OBANAI:

obanai loves when you fall asleep on his chest, your thigh draped over his hips. but he can't help his cock growing harder each time you shift your body around on his hips and sigh softly in his ear. he'll whisper dirty words to you as he pushes just the tip of his cock into your darling cunt, moving slowly but just enough to get himself off. he knows you're okay with it, especially since he's so busy during the day. he muffles out grunts, filling your pretty pussy with his cum and drifting back to sleep.

"oh, i love your little pussy. makes me feel so good, baby, fuck."

TENGEN:

tengen is always away on missions, leaving you starved on occasions. you know he'd do anything for you, and he knows how desperate you can be. so when you eyed his profound bulge poking into his boxers, you found yourself in wanting. you straddle his hips, letting his cock sink into your needy cunt and bouncing a few times. but when tengen wakes up, it doesn't take long before he gets even harder and starts fucking up into you the way you deserve.

"now that's a fun way to wake up. don't stop, darlin'. go ahead and keep usin' my cock like that."

SANEMI:

sanemi cares deeply and always wants to please you, even if he doesn't show it sometimes. but it possesses him sometimes, his lips feeling the need to kiss darlingly down your bare stomach. he's a competitive guy, pushing himself to see how many times he can make you cum with just his tongue. he loves the way your clit gets perky after a few licks, urging him to give you more as you whine softly in your sleep.

"g'morning, baby. gonna start the day off right, yea?"

DIAPHANOSO 2021.

[lazysimp]

Little Runaway /// Uzui Tengen x Fem reader (18+)

✧Click Here for Male version✧

Rating: Explicit

Summary: A debilitating injury leaves you bed-bound at the Butterfly estate as you recover from your injuries alone, or so you thought

This is a continuation of Little Slayer

Word count: 5.5K

Warnings/tags: !Some Spoilers from manga! Somnophilia, dubious consent, Exhibitionism, Reader is bisexual, Poly ship, Facesitting, Oral sex (giving and receiving), Spanking, Group sex, She/Her pronouns, All characters are adults, SMUT 18+ Only

masterlist┃AO3

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“It does not look too terrible,” Aoi mumbled, her fingers running our the large bandages covering your arms, “In a few weeks it will barely even be noticeable.

You do not bother to hide your trembling lip from her, “How can I be a slayer with useless arms? I cannot even feed myself let alone lift a sword.”

She sighed, putting away the excess cloth, “You will have to stay here a few more weeks to recover, and then you should be mostly back to normal. Even though Shinobu managed to create an antidote, the poison tore up the veins in your arms. It is going to take your body some time to heal.”

“I should be out there helping, not sitting in this bed,” small tears gathered in the corners of your eyes. You have already been recovering for two weeks, the thought of being trapped in this bed any longer was going to drive you mad.

Aoi awkwardly rubbed your back, “Don’t be so hard on yourself, you assisted in taking down two powerful demons. Even if you had not been injured you deserved a break, we were all beginning to wonder if you ever slept.”

“I have slept plenty, I am ready to get back out there,” You lift one bandaged arm, trying to ignore the pain the movement caused to examine the damage. “Are you sure there is no way to speed the healing up, I am willing to try anything?”

“No slayer, the only thing that will make you better is rest and food. Thought if you would like to recover more efficiently I do have one suggestion.”

Your upper body lurches forward, your nose almost slamming into Aoi's face, "What, what is it?”

“Well, you are not the only slayer I am caring for at the moment, this means you do not get the full attention you need to heal quickly. If you knew someone who could care at all times your body would heal much faster.”

You groan falling back to the bed, “Not this again.”

“All I am saying is you should tell them what happened,” Aoi grabbed a washcloth and brought it towards your face, “I know they would come in a heartbeat to help with your recovery.”

“I already told you, I don’t want them to see me like this, I look pathetic.”

“You look like someone who was injured slaying a demon, there is nothing pathetic about that.” She wrings the water out of the cloth and wipes down your chest, “What is pathetic is to continue to write them pretending nothing is wrong because you are too scared of rejection.”

Your upper lip curls up, “What makes you so sure they would come to care for an injured slayer.”

Aoi scoffed, lifting your arm to bring your wrist to your face, “Last time a checked Uzui does not gift a gold bracelet to every slayer that visits his house to recover.”

You could not wiggle your arm free from her hold, the muscles still too weak to respond to your commands, “It was a parting gift, nothing more.”

“A parting gift really?” She pulls your arm closer to her face examining the intricate engraving on the gold band, “A gold band that is a match to the gold bands on his arms is only a parting gift.”

“Yes,” you growl trying fruitlessly to pull your wrist free.

She rolls her eyes, releasing your arm, “You are so deep in denial. How can you possibly convince yourself that they feel nothing for you? They practically begged you to become theirs, the only reason you are not recovering in their bed right now is that you are too scared to ask.”

“You can’t know that for sure,” you mumble, looking at the stack of letters by your bedside.

“Really, then let’s test my theory,” She pulls one of the blank sheets of paper off of the small table and hands it to you, “tell them what happened to you and where you are staying, you do not even need to ask them for help. I guarantee by tomorrow they will all be here fighting for the chance to take care of you.”

“And if you are wrong?”

She rubs the bottom of her chin, “Hm, If I am wrong I will clear my schedule and wait on your hand and foot until you are fully recovered.” A sly smile spreads across her face, “But if I am right you must buy me a new hair clip, a nice one, not one of those cheap ones at the market.”

“I feel like this is a lose-lose situation,” you groan, squeezing your eyes shut.

“Nu-uh, you have nothing to lose because they will come to take care of you. Well, you will be out at least five yen, the hair clip I want does not come cheap.”

“How is this not extortion,” you growl, trying to find a way out of this.

“Oh please, you can so dramatic. All you have to do is write a short letter telling them you were injured and will not be able to see them for a few weeks. Don’t you think they deserve an explanation for why you have not been visiting?”

You open your eyes to glare at her, “that was a low blow.”

“Well I am tired of hearing your whining, it was pathetic a week ago, not it is just sad.” She thors the rag into the bowl of water, “I am trying to be sympathetic but honestly you are being dull. They are in love with you, they want you. The only reason you are alone is that you are acting like a coward, and that is coming from me.”

“What if they had changed their mind while I was gone? I could not handle going back to being nothing to them.”

Her eyes softened, she reached out and laid her hand over yours, “And this is better? You only eve speak to them in letters, exchanging small talk about demons and the weather. I cannot guarantee they have not changed their minds but can you really lie there and tell me it is not worth it to ask?”

You open and close your mouth, you could not argue with what she was saying. Truth be told they were worth the risk, even a day with them would be worth a lifetime of pain but a small ounce of self-preservation still held you back, “I’m scared,” you whisper, “I don’t think I could survive their rejection.”

“Uzui already told you how they felt, the only reason they are not at your bedside right now is that you have not told them you are injured. They would drop everything and travel here, all you need to do is ask, I promise they will not say no.”

“Aoi,” you whimper, “please can we drop this.”

She gave your hand one gentle squeeze, “Fine, I will drop it, for now, you are due for your meds anyways.”

Fuck, “Do I need to take all of those? They make my head feel funny.”

She laughed, “Trust me, the only reason you are not screaming in pain is because of these meds, your nerves are still very inflamed from the venom, missing even one dose will make you wish you had let the demon finish you off.”

“Here,” she raises the small cup to your lips, “drink up.”

You hold your breath and open your mouth letting the bitter liquid slide down your throat. “Ugh, that is terrible.”

“It tastes awful but there is nothing we have found to even be half as effective.” she stands up, wiping her pants, “You make sure to call for assistance if you need something, this medication has a strong impact on the level of consciousness, some people report dreamlike states where-”

“Yeah, yeah, I know,” you wave off her speech already having heard it a dozen times. “Don’t stand up by yourself, don’t sign anything, don’t talk to strangers, make sure you are not hallucinating before you go to the bathroom.”

“Alright I’ll check on you in a bit,” She points her finger, her lip curling up, “But so help me if I find you out of bed, I refuse to have a slayer injured on my watch.”

You nod, too weak to even think about leaving the bed the medication already making the world around you spin. With nothing else to do you work on controlling your breathing, each small breath allowing you to lessen the effects of the drug in your system.

The sky outside your window darkened leaving you in complete darkness, you try to fight off the heaviness of your eyelids but each blink was a battle. Soon you had no choice but to allow them to close, your mind finally resiting.

You used to love sleep, allowing your mind to turn off was heavenly. But ever since you left the Sound estate you found your mind wandering places it should not. Tonight was no different once sleep finally overtook you.

The dreams always started out the same, you would arrive at the large estate exhausted and starving. Each member would swarm around you, now having the routine down you were in a warm bath only moments later while food was being heated.

When your skin was clean and hair groomed they would listen to your adventures as you eat, Suma flinching whenever you even mentioned a demon getting too close. Hinatsuru would ask about the places you got to see while traveling and Makio would want to know all about the demon you slew. Tengen always ended up pulling you into his lap after you finished your meal, gently rubbing your thigh as you talk with the girls.

When your eyes grew heavy and your head starts to nod forward Tengen would gently guide you back to their room. Your breathing would grow haggard, already trembling with excitement, the exhaustion fading away.

You bring your hand down your stomach, there was no harm in letting yourself feel pleasure as you dream, after all, no one has to know what you are doing while you think about a married man and his wives.

Dreaming was your only escape from the cruel world you lived in, here your arms were not injured and you were surrounded by the people you love.

Tengen would be the first in this realm to take charge, using his hand to position you exactly where he wanted. Your legs were spread open wide, one knee held by Suma whose eager eyes watched as Tengen’s mouth licked a trail up your thigh, collecting the juices that had covered them.

“Tengen,” you whine, your voice cracking, “Please don’t tease me.”

“Shh little slayer, I want to savor my meal,” Tengen groaned, using his tongue to clean your other thigh. Your dreams always felt so real but tonight was different, before his touch felt muffled, as if someone was touching you through a sheet. As his hot tongue runs up your inner thigh its warm wet heat nearly has your back arching off the bed.

Your head falls back, now resting in the lap of Makio. “Relax,” she muttered, her hands trailing down your chest to latch onto your swollen nipples, “We have all night.”

“Have to take my time with you,” Tengen cooed, one finger slinging through the middle of your slick folds, “Your pretty hole needs to be niced and stretched if it is going to take my cock tonight.”

His slick fingers circle around your entrance, giving you a moment’s warning before breeching your tight cunt. Your thighs shake, your muscles working to close but Hinatsusu joins in holding you open leaving you completely exposed to Tengen as he got to work.

“My, my, one finger and you are already creaming all over me.” He tsks his tongue, “Such a needy girl, how long have you been walking around with the mess?” His curious red eyes gazed at the pussy spread before him, admiring how you twitched around one finger.

“Is it our fault you are this messy? Were you thinking about us on your walk here naughty girl?”

“Tengen, don’t talk like that,” you order weakly, barely able to speak your cheeks flaming with embarrassment.

His lips curled into a devilish smirk, “You don’t have to pretend with us,” the finger inside you curled up. The entire room could heat the vigorous thumping of your heart against your chest, nearly ribbing from its cage. “Relax your legs, little slayer, let us see this sweet pussy.”

You could deny him nothing, your these thighs fell open completely, your puffy lips spreading to reveal your tight clit. You were breathing heavily, too nervous to be in control as they all admired your pulsating cunt. Your fearful eyes scanned each member, watching their reaction carefully.

“Fuck,” Suma moaned, her hands gripping your knee tightly, “It is not fair you get her first Tengen.” Her mouth was already drooling at the sight of such a beautiful woman spread open in front of her, a beautiful pussy just waiting to be feasted on. She was half tempted to push Tengen out of the way and fulfill her craving.

“Wait your turn Suma,” Tengen growled, adding another finger to tease you, “little one will need your tongue to clean up the mess I am about to make.”

You want to bring your hands up to hide your face too embarrassed to focus on but for some reason, you could not move the appendages so you had to settle on looking up at the ceiling. Only that proved to be even worse as Makio’s full breasts now filled your vision.

“Hey there,” she smiled, her fingers pinching your nipples and pulling on them until they grew stiff, “Like the view.”

Your train of thought crashed at her teasing smile, you look down only to see Hinatsuru slip off her own dress, her blush rose nipples hardening when exposed to the air. Taking advantage of your distracted mind Tengen’s clever tongue flickered across your tender clit. Your body jumps shocked at the immediate pleasure his mouth brings.

He seemed to enjoy your flavor, his hand settling under your hip so he can tilt it up giving him even easier access. He breathed in the scent of your arousal, preening as the sounds of your moans filled his ears, your head thrown back in pure bliss.

Out of the corner of his eye, he could see Suma trail one hand down her own abdomen, circling her small clit frantically as she watched Tengen lap up your juices.

“Oh, it feels so good,” you pant, your back arching up as he sucks the bud onto his mouth, using the tip of his tongue to draw small circles.

“Fuck,” He mumbled, releasing the suction. “I could feast on this cunt for hours. Your taste is divine.” His hot breath fanned against the tender flesh. “How does that sound, do you think you could handle me for a few hours?”

You shake your head, already at the end of your rope.

‘Mmh, shame, we will have to work on building up your endurance,” he lowered his mouth again, adding another finger to your cunt loving the vice grip you had around the digits. Fuck his cock was already throbbing at the idea of your pretty pussy spasming around his length as he stretches you out.

“T-Tengen, please, I-I think I am going to come,” you screamed, your back arching off the bed.

Makio pushed down on your shoulders, holding you steady as your legs started to shake. Having no mercy Tengen increased the pace of his fingers now scissoring inside you as he worked throbbing clit with his lips. It was not long until the strong tingle in your abdomen rapidly spread throughout your body.

You could feel your hold clench around his fingers as your body convulsed, your mouth open in a silent scream. Tengen continued to milk the pleasure from your exhausted body, only stopping when you fell limp under him.

The only sound in the room was your frantic breathing. You always woke up like that, startled awake by what you had been dreaming about. Only tonight was different because instead of waking up cold and alone you were surprisingly warm.

“I know you are awake little one, open your eyes already,” a deep familiar voice laughed.

Immediately your eyes slammed open but nothing could have prepared you for the sight you encountered. Tengens chin was glistening, his eyes full of hunger you have never seen. On each side of you were Suma and Hinatsuru holding open your limp legs. Your head falls back onto a pair of soft thighs.

“I was beginning to wonder if you would ever wake up,” Makio laughed from above you, her hands on either side of your head.

“W-What is happening?” you look down at the unimaginable sight of Tengen in between your spread thighs, your mind nearly breaking as you try to piece together everything.

“Aoi sent us a letter saying you were injured,” Hinatsuru brushed her hand up your thigh, “We rushed here as quickly as we could once we heard the news. We did you not tell us sooner you were hurt we would have been here the day you arrived?”

“You were here for a week and you did not bother to let us know you were hurt,” Makio growled from above you, the lust decorating her face now gone. “Were you ever going to tell us?”

“I-I,” your breathing starts to grow frantic, what in the hell was happening? One minute you were dreaming and the next your dream becomes a reality. “I don’t understand what is happening,” you mumble your mind fuzzy, “When did you all get here? Why are you in between my legs?”

“Shh,” Suma moved up from her place at your legs and grabbed one of your bandaged hands, “I know you are probably really confused so let me explain.”

You nod, eager to understand the world around you.

“We arrived here less than thirty minutes ago, we all rushed here when we heard the news of your injury from Aoi’s letter,” she paused to give you time to process the information. “When we got here you were sound asleep, Aoi said you would not be up for hours, we were going to take turns watching over you, but when Tengen tried to leave to get some food you yelled out for him to stop teasing you.”

Your breathing stops, your mind replaying the events of earlier, “I spoke out loud,” you whispered.

Tengen snorts, “You did more than speak little one, you begged me to touch you.”

Your mouth falls open in horror, “What happened after that?”

Tengen looked down at your exposed sex, “Well, we tried leaving, wanting you to get some rest but we are only human, how could we resist those little whimpers begging for more?”

“Y-You mean-”

“That I ate your little pussy while you begged for more?”

A startled squeak left your lips at his confession, “You did?”

A wolfish grin spread across his face, “Oh yes darling, I did.”

Your face was so hot you were sure you could fry an egg on your cheeks, “You mean my dream was real, it all happened?”

“Regretfully I cannot see into your beautiful mind but judging by what you were whimpering I would say your flamboyant dream matched pretty well to what we were doing.”

You wanted to bury yourself in a hole, the noises you had been making were mortifying, the idea that anyone heard them, let alone the four people at your side was enough to make you combust.

“Don’t look so embarrassed,” Hinatsuru cooed, “Watching you find pleasure was beautiful, I could watch it every day and never grow tired of that sight.”

Tengen hummed in agreement, “And the flamboyant sounds you made were enough to nearly push me over the edge, if not for my training I would already be staining the sheets with my seed.”

“Wait, you all arrived here to help with my recovery after Aoi sent you a letter telling you about my condition?”

Hinatsuru nodded, patting her hand gently against your, “We left as soon as we heard, we were so worried, she told us how close you were to-to dying.” She choked out a sob, “Why would you not call for us,” her lips pressed into a thin line, “Did you not want us to come here?”

“No,” you try to reach out but your arms could not respond, “That is not it at all,” You look down wishing you had on clothes, you already felt so exposed, “I did not want to bother you.”

“Bother us?” Tengen echoed, lifting himself up into a sitting position between your legs. “Is that what you think you are? A bother.”

You take advantage of his move, pushing your thighs together to gather some privacy, “Not exactly-”

Tengen runs his hand through his loose hair, “I thought I took care of your doubt the night you left but it seems you still have some doubts where you stand in this relationship.”

He looks over at the woman by your side with a new, darker look in his eye, “Darlings would your hold her legs for me please, I believe we need to teach the little runaway here her place.”

“Hey wait,” you try to scramble away but Suma and Hinatsuru locked onto your legs anchoring you in place.

“Hm,” Tengen’s hand rested under his chin, “On second thought flip her around, I want that flamboyant ass in the air.”

“Ah,” you squeak as you are tossed in the air and gently flipped around, landing on the bed with your arms held behind your back, your cheek squished against the mattress.

“W-What are you doing,” you try to look over your shoulder but the position they place you in prevents you from being able to see anything.

“I have tried being a patient little one, I waited weeks for you to finally confess your feelings, and what is my reward for this? A letter telling me how you almost died. Can you even imagine how that made us feel? You almost died having never been ours.”

His large hand runs up your slick thigh, “And now you lie here in the bed speaking about not wanting to bother us!” His large hand comes down across your ass laying a sharp spank. “I refuse to believe the only reason you did not ask for our help is that you did not want to be a bother.” Another sharp sting spreads across your ass as his hand descends, “So tell me the truth, why are you running away from us?”

“I-I can’t” you sob, burying your face into the sheets.

“Wrong answer,” Another precise slap arrives on your skin, the sharp tingle spreading through your body, lighting your skin on fire.

“Please tell us why you do not want to be with us,” Hinatsuru whispered, her lips kissing away the tears gathered in the corner of your eyes, “What did we do wrong?”

“Nothing,” you sob, “you did nothing wrong, it’s me that is wrong.”

“What is wrong with you?” Makio asked, shoving Hinatsuru out of the way, “Because from my viewpoint you are perfect.”

“I’m not,” you turn your face to bury your head onto the mattress needing to hide, “And one day you will see that and want nothing to do with me. And then what,” your chest heaves, too tired to resist letting it all out, “I will be left all alone.”

“Darling,” Tengen cooed, his hand running up your naked back where your loose shirt had ridden up, “Do you truly believe we would leave you?”

You nod your head, your throat too tight to let you speak.

“But that is not true, I could never get tired of you!” Suma yelled, pushing Hinatsuru out of the way for her turn. “The way you hold me when I cry, and how you make sure Hinatsuru will buy my favorite food when at the market. The way you make sure that each of us feels included, can’t you see we will never get enough of you?”

Tenge’s hand settled on the flaming skin of your ass, massaging the sore tissue, “If you think for one minute I am ever letting you go then I have failed at making you feel appreciated.” His hand stops at the back of your neck, gently squeezing the column, “Because this is something I could never live without. Your smile, your kindness, your love, your flamboyant attitude, I need all of it.”

His bodyweight presses over you, his long erection settling in between the cheeks of your ass, “Now little one, I am going to show you how you belong to me,” the head of his cock slides down to settle on the outside of your entrance, “After this, there is no question you belong to us do you understand?”

You glace back in shock, watching helplessly as his hips thrust forward, the large head piercing into your tight hole.

A small whimper leaves your throat as the burning stretch nearly becomes too much, he was so fucking big that even with his fingers stretching you earlier there was no way he was going to be able to fit all of it inside you.

“Fuck,” he hissed from above you, his hand braced against your tailbone as he sank into your warmth. “You are so tight.”

Your hands reach out looking for something to hold onto and two warm hands answered your call, their fingers intertwining with yours.

“You are doing so perfect,” Hintsuru hummed, kissing your knuckles. You squeeze down around their hands as hard as you could, your legs trembling as another inch slides inside.

Just when your thought It would all become too much his cock finally kissed the end of your hole. He froze for a few seconds giving your poor pussy time to adjust to his intrusion. This gave Makio just enough time to fulfill her plan.

Manipulating your body she adjusts your arms until your weight was settled onto your hands, your elbows locked and your ass in the air where Tengen was buried to the hilt. With the help of Suma she carefully lifted your body until she could easily slide under you, her mouth now directly under your dripping cunt.

“H-Hey,” you whine, Makio’s pussy now directly under your face, her breasts pressing against your upper thighs, “What are you doing?”

“This,” She groaned, using her fingers to spread open the lips of your pussy and latch onto your throbbing bundle. You nearly fall forward, the combined attack overwhelming.

Tengen, not one to be outdone drew his hips back, his cock slowly withdrawing from your abused hole only to slam back in. The strength of his thrusts had his balls collide with the top of Makio’s head but she did not seem to mind, in fact, it seemed to egg her on, she grew even more aggressive in pleasing you. Her tongue lashed across your clit as she sucked on the tender bud.

The tongue on your cunt vibrated as Makio let out a low groan. Tengen continued to plow into you in a purposeful rhythm, each thrust well aimed to nail the upper part inside your pussy making black spots appear in your vision each time he hit it.

Your fingers dig into the sheets as you hold on for dear life.

“You feel that,” Tengen growled, his cock kissing the end of your hole, “Feel how deep inside you I am?” His hand came down to slap your ass, “This pussy is mine little one, not yours, mine, and if you think you can keep me from this pussy then I will have to fuck you until you are too tired to argue.”

“Tengen,” you sobbed, your head falling forward. Suma shifted forward, her hands giving your head a comfortable place to rest on Makio’s thighs as the pair worked to drive you even higher. Your legs were shaking uncontrollably, as the throbbing in your clit started to spread. Your chest grew too tight for you to even breathe.

Tengen kept his movements steady while Makio’s tongue worked wonders on your clit, sucking on the tight bud whole flicking her tongue over the tip. It was not long until your mouth opened into a silent scream, your entire body tense as you come all over Makio’s face, your sweet juices coating her tongue as you convulse.

Makio greedily lapped up the mess as you continued to come on her face, the pleasure too strong to let you relax until another mind-shattering sensation overtook you. This time the tingling spread to your head making the world begging to grow hazy as your breathing stopped. You were sure you were screaming but you could hear nothing over the sound of your own pounding heartbeat.

With the high gone your breathing decreased slightly but Tengen was still going, his fat cock continuing to stretch your clenching hole. You lie there and let him lay his claim, too tired to even speak.

When it almost became too much mercifully his cock started to pulse and seconds later his hot cum began to fill you, leaving no inch uncovered. Only when he was sure every drop had emptied inside you did he pull his hips back, admiring how your gaping hole clenched around nothing, his cum already leaking out.

Makio’s magical tongue gave one last long lick up your slit before she shuffled out from under you. You close your eyes for a few seconds, trying to collect your bearings while the world around you spun. One strong arm wrapped around your waist, gently manipulating your body until you were settled on your back.

You did not even jump when a soft tongue began to clean your throbbing sex, lapping away the mess Tengen had created. Another careful pair of hands brought your head into their lap, their fingers tracing the lines of your face. The last pair of hands dragged a warm cloth across your drenched body.

You snuggle into their hold, letting them each care for you in their own unique way. Only when the cloth grew cold and the tongue on your sex stilled did you crack open one eye.

“How are you feeling?” Hinatsuru asked, wringing out the wet cloth into a basin.

“Fuzzy,” you mumble, turning your head to bury your face deeper into Makio’s lap.

“Do you understand now?” Tengen hummed, his callused fingers rubbing across the back of your injured hand. Do you understand how much we love you little one?”

“I-I,” you press your lips together, how could you make them understand what you were thinking. They all knew early in life they would belong to each other forever but they have barely known you for a year.

“I want to,” you whisper, “I want to believe more than anything that you love me.”

You press your thighs together wincing at the ache in your sex, “But I don’t think I will ever be sure of your feelings for me. It is just too good to be true.”

Tengen barked in protest but you continued, “But the one thing I am sure of is my feelings for all of you. The days I was able to spend with all of you were the happiest of my life and I want nothing more than to give you all of my days. I am yours.”

Hinatsuru shot forward her arms wrapping around your shoulders, pulling you into her chest. “We love you so much,” she sobbed, burying her face in your shoulder, “And we will spend all of our time making sure you never doubt that.”

Suma joins in on the hug, her body pressing against your back, “I won’t let go until you believe us.” She declared, tightening her arms even more.

Makio laughed, pushing Suma to the side so she could have room to join in, “I think it will be fun to convince you our feelings are permanent, I love a good challenge.”

“Hm,” Tengen’s large hand settled on top of your head, urging it back until his gaze was able to meet yours, “I agree with Makio, getting you to believe us sounds like a very interesting challenge,” he leans in closer, his lips brushing against your forehead, “One I am happy to spend the rest of my life on.”

[muzanswaifu]

Regrettable

Pairing: Sanemi x Reader

Warnings: Smut, Aphrodisiacs, Size Kink, Creampie, Spit as Lube, Porn with Plot, first time using tumblr so sorry

Reader shadows the Wind Hashira on a mission to slay a succubus demon. Things take a turn for the worse when they take in more of her demon art than they can chew…

Keep reading

[xxsabitoxx]

Little Pet

{Delinquent! Akaza x Student! Reader & Kyojuro}

In this fic, Akaza and reader are 19 while Kyojuro is 20

Akaza is human in this, but he keeps his demon traits (aka pink hair and gold eyes)

Warnings: cuckolding, dumbification, name calling, rough sex, pet/master tones, degrading, choking, spitting, slapping, just slight bdsm themes if you squint

A/N: whew I love me some basketball demon … who isn’t even a demon in this fic but whatever. I was very self indulgent with this lmaoo, so akaza has a ton of piercings woof woof

Word count: 8.3k

You hated him, honestly you did. He was nothing but irritating, unbearable and downright disrespectful. You could spot him from a mile away with the neon hot pink hair he had. When he was asked why he dyed it that color, he said it was because it was the most obnoxious color he could find.

His name? Hakuji.

But he strictly went by his alias, Akaza.

Anyone who called him by his first name would be beaten, so badly you may never hear from them again. He was a violent man, a cocky one at that. Every aspect of his appearance was meant to irritate the teachers. The neon hot pink hair we mentioned before wasn’t the only thing that stood out. He had three black bands tattooed on his forearms, meant to be criminal markings.

There was a silver eyebrow piercing right above his left eye, a black lip ring on the right side of his mouth. The most scandalous one of all was the silver ball tongue piercing. One that saw the light of day quite often with the way he ran his mouth. Your issue with him wasn’t even anything said above, it was his attitude towards you. It was different from the way he treated others, it was lighthearted.

His verbal attacks to you were never quite malicious, they were flirty even. You didn’t dare acknowledge it, you had tried once and he nearly made you the verbal punching bag of the school. That was the thing with Akaza, he may have teachers petrified of him. But for most members of the student body, this man was a god.

To others, he was the devil incarnate. It all depended where he stood with you. His opinion on you could make or break your whole school career.

“Good morning y/n~”

You held in a groan, looking up to see the pink haired man standing above you with a lollipop dangling between his lips. “Good morning, Akaza.” If you didn’t say it back, there would no doubt be hell to pay. He took the chair next to yours, flinging his legs up on the desk and leaning back with his arms behind his head. You glanced towards the front of the room, the teacher pausing his reading to look. The second Akaza’s eyes met his, he looked away.

You rolled your own, it was insane the amount of fear the man next to you had put into people. “So what are you up to today?” His voice was sickly sweet, one hand coming down to pull the sucker from his lips. You blinked at him, “I’m learning? Because we are in school.” You looked away from him, eyes reading over your notes. “Well princess, how about you skip with me?” Your eyebrow twitched, “don’t call me that.”

“How about Doll? Baby? Oh! I know, I’ll call you pet.”

You glared over at him, a shit eating grin plastered to his face. “Whatever.” You barked at him, forcing yourself to look back at your notebook. “How’s that little boy toy of yours?” You groaned, not even bothering to look. “Kyojuro is wonderful.” You knew he despised your boyfriend, it was a wonder that he was so infatuated with you. “Oh that’s just great.” The sarcasm in his voice was more than apparent.

“Why do you ask when you know you can’t stand him?” You looked at him now, watching him toy with the gauge in his ear. “It amuses me. I love to hear how he’s doing, considering he’s in college.” Every word was strained, as you studied his face you noticed the twitch in his eyebrow. “You’re full of shit.” You chewed on your inner cheek, watching his face morph through different emotions before settling on mock hurt.

“You wound me, pet.”

“Stop calling me that.” You set your pen down, resting your cheek on your hand as you glared at him. “I’ll call you whatever I please, little pet. Anyways, if you aren’t going to skip with me then I have no use for you.” He began to get up from his chair, “though it is a shame, you know I don’t like having people tell me no.” The lollipop was back between his lips, a smirk creeping up his face as he watched your eyes follow it. “Don’t be like that.” You watched his eyes trail over your face, settling back down in his chair.

“Well since you looked so cute asking me. I’ll give you one more chance.” He put his elbow on the desk behind him, legs crossing as one hand came up to pull at the lollipop stuck between his teeth. “I’m touched.” You deadpanned, eyes turning back to your notebook. “I’m giving you a second chance, the least you could do is keep your eyes on me.” You don’t know why those words affected you the way they did, but he had your full attention now.

“Such a good little pet. Now I’m going to ask you again, and you’ll use that pretty little brain of yours to give me the correct answer. Do you want to skip with me?” He watched you hesitate, mouth opening slightly but no words came out. “Don’t test me, pet.” This time you found your voice. “I’ll skip with you.” He smirked, lollipop moving to the side of his cheek. “I’ll skip with you, master.” He corrected you. “Don’t push it Akaza.”

“You know I love to push limits.” He was out of his chair and making his way towards the door. “Come along now.” You followed reluctantly, throwing your items in your bag and chasing after him. “Where exactly are we going?” The bell ringing signified classes had begun, you hoped your teachers would understand. “To visit your boyfriend of course!” You nearly tripped over your own two feet. “How’d you know he was at work?” Was he actually keeping tabs on your boyfriend?

“I passed by that little cafe on my way here. How cute, a little barista boyfriend for a perfect little y/n.” You couldn’t understand why Akaza was so annoyed by you being with Kyojuro. “Oh give me a break!” You caught the door as he pushed it open, of course he wouldn’t hold it for you. “A master never gives their pet a break if they want them to be obedient.” He really wasn’t going to let the nickname go. “Your sweet Kyojuro should be very happy to see you. I wonder how he’ll feel seeing you with me?”

You flinched, why hasn’t that thought dawned on you yet? Kyojuro and Akaza simply didn’t get along, even when Kyojuro was still in school with you. Kyojuro never raised his hand back to Akaza, even when Akaza struck him. There was only one exception to that “never”… and it was you. You remembered that day quite well. Akaza had been trying to make a pass on you, hands lingering too long where they should have never been in the first place. That was the final straw for Kyojuro, neither man left that fist tunscathed. Kyojuro though, was a little more beaten up than Akaza.

“Are you day-dreaming, pet? You must be.” You were pulled from your thoughts as a flick landed against your forehead. “H-hey!” You glared at him, rubbing your forehead as he began to laugh. “Pay attention, I was talking to you.” He tisked at you before turning away. “Sorry…” you looked down at your feet as you walked, watching the sidewalk move below you. “I’m still waiting for my answer.” You blinked, head shooting up to look at his back. What question had he asked? After a moment it dawned on you.

“I don’t think he’ll be very pleased to see us together.”

“Precisely! What a smart girl.”

Had he not sounded so condescending, you would have laughed. You spotted the small cafe, dread filling you at the idea of Kyojuro seeing you two together. It made sense why he was so determined to bring you out. He was in the mood to fight. That was the only logical reason in your head as you both waited for the crosswalk to turn green. You flinched again, this time it was the sound of Akaza’s teeth crushing the lollipop. You glanced over, watching a smirk creep up his face as he stared straight ahead. “Did I startle you?”

“Just a little.” You hated that you felt so skittish, being with the man beside you put you on edge. The light turned green signalling the two of you to cross, as you neared you saw the familiar flame colored hair of your boyfriend through the windows. You glanced at Akaza one more time, the smirk on his face making your chest feel tight. The tiny chime of a bell signaled to Kyojuro that more customers had entered the shop.

“Welcome!” He glanced up a moment later, the smile on his face faltering as his eyes landed on Akaza. You swallowed, watching his brow twitch before he realized there was someone next to the pink haired man…you. “Y/n!” His smile returned, you gave a hesitant one back. You watched the realization dawn on his face, you made your way to the counter in hopes of keeping Akaza from making a scene. “Why aren’t you in class?” Kyojuro had decided to fully ignore the pink haired man walking up behind you.

“Akaza wanted me to skip with him, he wanted to visit you.” Kyojuro caught on to your slightly strained voice, an apologetic look filled his eyes. “I see. Well, what do you two want to drink?” You noticed the tension in his shoulders, his eyes weren’t as big and bright as usual. “I’ll take my usual, Kyo.” You smiled softly, wanting to reach out and touch his hand. “I’ll do the same as her. I’d also like you to join us.” Akaza slapped money down on the counter, a lazy grin spreading across his face. You caught sight of his tounge piercing as he spoke.

“Coming right up.” Kyojuro turned away, calling back to someone you couldn’t see. “I’ll take my break now if that’s alright, Giyu?” You recognized the name, Giyu was a quiet man who Kyojuro met during one of his college classes. You heard a quiet “okay, enjoy.” from behind the counter, Kyojuro emerged a second later with both drinks in hand. “Right this way.” You took your drink from him, smiling as he kissed the top of your head. Next to you Akaza made a fake gagging noise.

Kyojuro brought you towards the back of the cafe, a small corner booth that felt secluded. You slid in first, Kyojuro taking his seat beside you while Akaza took the seat opposite. “So why exactly did you force y/n to skip with you?” Kyojuro’s hand rested on your thigh under the booth, you were still tense but his presence had calmed you down considerably. “Because I wanted to see you of course, Kyojuro~”

You were surprised by the flirtatious tone, side eyeing Kyojuro who seemed un-phased. “You didn’t need to drag her along to come see me, Akaza.” His thumb was rubbing soothing circles just under the hem of your uniform skirt. “Oh I know, but this matter requires their input as well as yours.” So he had a proposition to make? What could Akaza possibly want to do with the two of you? “Quit beating around the bush and spit it out. My break is only fifteen minutes.”

Kyojuro was in absolutely no mood to hear what the man had to say. “Okay okay, not in the mood. I get it Kyojuro~” Akaza sipped his drink slowly, eyes trailing over Kyojuro until he spotted his hand below the table. His eyebrow cocked up, the piercing catching the light. He said nothing, judging by your expression there was nothing interesting happening. “Anways. I want you to give me a chance. Let me have some fun with y/n.” Your eyes widened, was he really suggesting that?

“Pardon me?” Kyojuro’s hand tightens on your thigh, eyes narrowing at Akaza. “You heard me. I’m asking you to let me fuck her.” Your mouth parted now, head whipping to look at Kyojuro. His brows were furrowed, much to your shock it seemed he was actually contemplating an answer. “Why would I say yes to that?” Kyojuro’s elbow came up to rest on the table, his cheek pressing into his closed fist. “Oh, for many reasons my dear Kyojuro~”

You were both silent, waiting for him to continue. “Well, to start. I simply think I can pleasure her better than you can.” Starting off with a low blow, you were a bit offended for Kyojuro…though he didn’t seem to phased. “I think you’re a little too high and mighty for my taste. Y/n would surely enjoy a night with me. Hell I’ll even let you watch and see how much better I can do her.” You felt invisible in that moment. “So what you’re saying Akaza, is that you want to fuck my girlfriend while I watch. Is that right?”

“Such a smart boy! That’s correct.” His tongue stuck out between his teeth, just enough to show off the silver piercing. “Well, Akaza. I’ll let y/n make that choice.” You felt a chill run down your spine, was this a test? “M-me?” Your eyes shot between the two men. “It’s you we are talking about, it’s only right for you to make the choice.” Akaza’s words held no sort of malice or annoyance. For the first time, he was addressing you properly. “You can do whatever you please. If you say yes I won’t be mad. I’m kind of curious now.” You blinked at Kyojuro, his thumb still rubbing your thigh.

“I…” you didn’t understand where this sudden interest came from, eyes shifting over to Akaza who was sipping his drink lazily. You looked him up and down, there was no denying the man was attractive. It was his personality that ruined it, The eyebrow piercing, the lip piercing, the tongue piercing, the tattoos, hell even his pink hair. He was an attractive man but he had the personality of a bratty child. And yet you were being offered the opportunity to sleep with him, no consequences attached, and hesitating.

“Why are you okay with this, Kyojuro?” You were a bit startled when you realized you wanted to sleep with him. Instead of blurting out a yes, you asked a question. “I want to see Akaza fail.” You raised an eyebrow, watching your boyfriend glare across the table. “Oh so you want to subject me to a bad time?” You felt a smirk creeping up your face, watching his eyes widen as he looked at you. “Oh!” Akaza began to laugh, “who’s side are you on!” Kyojuro’s cheeks had started to turn pink.

“I’m on my own side!” You crossed your arms, eyes shifting between the two men. “I’ll give you my decision, but only if you promise you won’t be upset by it.” Kyojuro nodded, his grip on your thigh tightening. “I’ll sleep with you, Akaza. Only because you’ve peaked my interest as well. My only condition is that Kyojuro has to watch.” You liked the wave of confidence that washed over you when both men were nodding enthusiastically. “Kyojuro, your break is over.” Somewhere near the front of the cafe, Giyu was calling for him.

“My shift ends in two hours. Do you think you can handle that?” The question was directed at Akaza more than you. “I’m not some filthy animal, Kyojuro. I can wait.” You weren’t so sure about the filthy animal part. Kyojuro smiled at you, pulling you into a soft kiss before sliding out of the booth. “You two are gross.” You slid over so you were facing akaza rather than being pressed into the wall. “You think everything is gross. Anyways, I’m fine waiting here for Kyojuro’s shift to end if you want to go do something.”

Akaza used his straw to stir the liquid in his cup, “no, I’m staying right here.” His gaze made you squirm, it didn’t dawn on you how awkward you’d feel knowing what was about to happen to you. “You’re annoying.” You tore your gaze away to watch Kyojuro greet more customers. “You’re obsessed with him, aren’t you, Little pet.” You looked back at Akaza, there was no sarcasm present on his face. “Maybe I am.” You watched him roll his eyes, “you don’t have to fuck me you know.” You didn’t expect that.

“No, I want to fuck you, Akaza. You are always so damn cocky, surely you have something impressive to prove it.” You moved your foot under the booth, pressing it lightly against his groin before putting it back down. The look that crossed over his face made you lose any ounce of confidence you thought you had. “You’re lucky we are in public, I’d have you bent over this table by now if we weren’t.” You shivered, the look in his eyes told you he wasn’t kidding. “So you do like me, Huh?” You figured faking confidence was better than submitting.

“I know I liked to deny it, but look at you, pet! Kyojuro is one lucky bastard. I’m not ashamed to say I’m envious now that I’m getting a chance to prove myself. I think I just may have you wrapped around my finger by the end of the day.” Heat pooled in your gut, he was a big talker, but if he was this confident he'd win you over… you began to question if you’d need some pain relievers. “I think you’re just trying to flatter me.” You rested your cheek against your hand as his eyes narrowed.

“You really think I’d waste all this time just for the hell of it?” He mimicked your own pose before continuing, “if anything, I’ll make up for all my lost time. I can’t wait to have you a drooling mess, little pet.” Each word was a promise, making your thighs squeeze together in anticipation. The clock just couldn’t move fast enough, only thirty minutes had passed since Kyojuro’s break ended. “You’re so cute when you squirm like that. Is that pussy of yours wet?” You felt your eyes go wide, not expecting such vulgar language.

“A-akaza!” Your cheeks were getting hot, he only laughed in response. “I bet you're fantasizing about me, right? How big I am, how I’d feel inside you. How my tongue piercing would feel against your—“ your squealing cut him off entirely. “Shut up!” You whisper yelled, you weren’t sure what was more embarrassing, the fact that he said all those things out loud…or the fact that he was right. “I hate you!” You hid your face behind your hands, kicking his leg under the table as he laughed.

“You know what.” You slid out of the booth, cheeks on fire as you made your way up to the counter. “Kyojuro, your shift is over. Let’s go.” He took in your flustered appearance, placing a lid on the cup of ice coffee he made. “I still have over an hour left.” Your brow twitched, it was unbelievable how dense he could be sometimes. “Well they are letting you leave early, right Giyu?” The man with the black ponytail turned around, taking you in. “Yeah, you can go now, Kyojuro.”

Your shoulders sagged in relief, you spun on your heels and made it back to the pink haired man. “Let’s go, you ass.” You watched yet another lazy grin appear on his face, tongue poking out to toy with his lip ring. “Needy enough that you got your boyfriend off of work early?” He slid out of the booth, standing in front of you with a look that made you want to shrink away. “Let’s go, you two.” You looked to see Kyojuro had already taken his apron off and was waiting by the cafe entrance.

“Coming Kyojuro~”

“Would you stop saying his name like that?” You blinked at Akaza, watching him make his way up and out of the cafe. “Never~” he winked at Kyojuro as he passed, leaving you to run after him. “We’ll take my car back to our apartment.” You had been living with Kyojuro for a few months now, once you graduated you’d be attending the same university as him. “Oh? You live together?” You both looked at Akaza, a clear look of surprise on his features. “Mmhmm, it’s been about four months I think.”

You rounded the back of the building where Kyojuro’s car was. The sound of him unlocking the door pointed out where the car was for Akaza. “Damn and you have a car? You just have your life all together, don’t you Kyojuro?” Akaza sounded pained as he slipped into the back seat. “You don’t need to flatter me Akaza, I’m already allowing her to sleep with you.” The car’s engine roared to life, “seat belts please.” He waited until he heard two clicks before pulling out of the small lot.

Your apartment was only a five minute ride down the road, but with Akaza’s eyes on you and Kyojuro’s hand on your thigh…it felt like an eternity. “Do you have many neighbors? I sure hope they aren’t home at this hour. I can only imagine what they’d think hearing y/n scream another man’s name.” You glanced back at the pink haired man, his elbow rested on the door as he looked out the window. You trailed lower, taking in every vein and tattoo as you did. “Surely they’ll mind their business.” Kyojuro smiled, eyes never leaving the road.

“That’s a shame, I like nosy neighbors.” You looked back at the road the moment Akaza’s gaze met yours. You couldn’t believe he already had a tent forming in his pants. Your anticipation only grew as you reached the last set of lights. The next turn would be into your parking garage. The butterflies in your stomach began to frenzy as you thought about what was happening to you. Along with anticipation you felt shame, you were far too excited to fuck a man that wasn’t your boyfriend. A man you claimed you hated at that.

“Here we are.” Kyojuro pulled into your assigned parking space, turning the car off and stepping out a moment later.

You followed after him, legs feeling like jelly as you made your way towards the elevator with Akaza in tow. You felt another blush creeping up your cheeks as you noticed the bulge in Kyojuro’s pants as well. “Fifth floor? Neighbors above and below…how sweet.” You rolled your eyes, hand coming up to hold the sleeve of Kyojuro’s button up.

Never in a million years did you think you’d be allowing Akaza into your apartment. The elevator doors opened up to your hall, Kyojuro guided both of you towards your door at the end of the hall. “It’s only mid-morning. Hopefully most are at work.” With a swipe of your keycard the door unlocked and opened to your living room. As you shut and locked the door you realized there was no turning back. “Cute Place you got here.” You watched him unbutton his button up, revealing a black t-shirt underneath.

“The bedroom is this way.” Kyojuro took the lead again, guiding Akaza down the hall to your shared room. You were pleased with yourself for making the bed this morning, making the room look all the more inviting. Kyojuro plopped himself down on the chair in the corner, throwing the decorative pillow off to the side. “Don’t mind me.” He winked at you, tugging at his collar to loosen it. You looked at Akaza, he was looking back at you in a way that reminded you of a predator stalking its prey. He smiled at you, hand reaching towards you as he spoke. “C’mere, little pet.”

Your legs moved without you thinking, taking his hand once it was in reach. You were pressed together now, head tilting back to look at him properly. His free hand found your waist, tugging you impossibly closer. Your mouth parted when you felt his bulge press into your abdomen. “I don’t like complimenting…but you look so damn obedient right now. You deserve everything you’re about to get.” You didn’t have time to process anything he said. His lips were pressed to yours with such force you would have stumbled backwards had he not been holding you.

The cool metal of his lip ring pressed into your lip, it wasn’t long until you felt his tongue poking better your lips. The metal ball on his piercing was warm but startling anyways, a small gasp allowed him entrance. You shivered each time your own tongue ran over the piercing, the hand that wasn’t still holding Akaza’s snaked up his chest to rest on his shoulder. The kiss turned hotter, Akaza’s hand letting go of your own to rest on your ass instead. You squealed against his mouth as his hand slipped under the hem of your skirt. Fingers roughly grabbing at your flesh just to let it go and feel it jiggle.

“So cute.” His other hand came down to repeat the action, forcing you into your tiptoes. It wasn’t long before he hoisted you up, your legs instinctively wrapping around his waist as he brought you over to you and Kyojuro’s bed. He dropped you roughly, a cruel smirk on his lips as you bounced. “Are you enjoying this, Kyojuro?” Your eyes widened, had you really already forgotten your boyfriend was in the room? You looked over, watching as he slowly rubbed himself through his pants. “Very much, keep going.” His voice was hoarse.

Akaza seemed pleased, shouldering off his button up before crawling over you. “Pretty little pet…be a good slut for me, yeah?” You whined, you weren’t used to being called such rude terms. You were used to Kyojuro’s sweet and genuine praises. “Use your words. I know it’s hard for that little brain of yours.” He was slotted between your open legs, one foot still on the ground to give him leverage over you. You opened your mouth to respond, a shaky whimper coming out instead as he began massaging your thighs. “C’mon. I don’t have all day you idiot.” His harsh words pulled you from your daze.

“I-I’ll be good.”

“Perfect.”

He lowered himself, lips attacking your neck as his hands ran from your thighs and up your stomach towards your breasts. You couldn’t possibly think straight when his hands were roaming your body the way they were. It left you feeling warm and tingly, mind blanking as his teeth sunk into your skin. “A-akaza…” your fingers buried themselves in his pink strands, tugging at them softly. His groan vibrated the column of your neck, teeth only biting harder.

You felt hot, you were wearing far too much clothes for your liking. “Off…take them off.” You pulled at his shirt, hoping he’d get the hint. Akaza’s tongue shifted from the side of your neck to the center, tongue piercing dragging up your skin until he reached your chin. “You’re right, let’s talk these off.” His fingers quickly undid your button up, pushing it off to reveal the lacey bra underneath. “I imagined these so often…how perfect.” His fingers danced over the fabric, not touching your bare skin.

“Akaza…” you whined again, shifting to pull the button up away from you. “Alright alright.” He pulled his shirt over his head, revealing his bare torso to you. More black bands were on his biceps, linking them to the lines on his chest. “More?” Your fingers traced them softly, eyes going wide as you realized what else he had pierced. “Nipple piercings…really?” You reached out to touch one, gasping when his hand pulled yours back. “You can’t touch those.” There was a twitch in his eyebrow, one that made you think they were rather sensitive.

You wanted to tease him, but the bulge in his pants was suddenly pressed to your center and you couldn’t think straight. “I want to take my time with you. I only get one chance after all.” His finger hooked under the strap of your bra, pulling it slowly off your shoulder. He leaned down, sucking on your skin as his hand reached behind you. Your back arched, allowing him the room to unclip your bra with ease only an experienced hand could do.

Akaza’s eyes devoured every inch of skin that was revealed to him, mouth watering slightly as he pulled your bra off you completely. You felt embarrassment flood your cheeks as your nipples hardened, a shit eating grin was spreading across Akaza’s face. “So cute~ you’re being so good for me, little pet.” His fingers trailed down to your breasts, taking one of your nipples between his fingers and pinching until you cried out.

“S-so you can do that. B-but I can’t touch you!” You wailed, pulling away from his touch. He finally released your nipple,

his whole hand encompassing your breast instead and squeezing it harshly. “I can do as I please to you, slut.” He used his other hand to pinch your other nipple, another cry leaving your lips. You felt a throb between your legs, you couldn’t tell if it was you or him. “Keep crying out, you sound so pathetic.” He laughed harshly, hands leaving your breasts to slide lower.

You watched with lidded eyes as he leaned backwards, practically standing again as his hands reached the waistband of your skirt. “I can’t help it, I need to taste you before I go insane.” You watched his eyes shift to the corner of the room, you wanted to see how Kyojuro was reacting but Akaza had you absolutely entranced. “I don’t know how you do it, Kyojuro. I’d never get anything done with such a pretty thing like her around.” Akaza tugged at your skirt, making you lift your ass so he could pull it off.

Kyojuro was watching intently from his chair, hand lazily palming himself as he watched your skirt drop to the floor. Akaza’s tongue stuck out from between his teeth, looking at your clothed cunt with interest. “A matching set? Did you plan this?” He pulled at the elastic waistband of your lacy panties, liking the way you jumped as it snapped back against your skin. “She always matches.” Kyojuro smiled, your face was so flushed, so needy. He wanted to push Akaza aside and ravish you himself, but he was getting increasingly turned on just watching the pink haired man toy with you.

“Is that so?” He used two fingers to hook under the garment, tugging so harshly the lace tore. “Hey!” Your lips shot upwards, allowing Akaza to pull them off before ruining them completely. You settled back down, breath becoming shallower as you realized you were fully exposed to Akaza now. “Oh?” Akaza’s hands came up to push your knees towards you, exposing your cunt to him. “Look how wet you are, so filthy.” Before he could push your knees directly to your chest he spread them, his hands grabbing under your knees instead to hold you in place.

“You don’t happen to have toys or restraints? It would make this so much easier.” Akaza looked over at Kyojuro, there was no way he could do what he wanted without the help of some restraints. “You’re in luck.” Kyojuro made his way over to your closet, reaching for the shoe box you two two kept toys in. He returned a second later with pink leather restraints. “You put them on like this.” Akaza allowed Kyojuro to attach the restraints to you, each one went around your wrist and your ankle tying them together.

You could now only move your arms if your legs went with you, keeping you wide open. “W-when did you even get these, Kyojuro!” You had never seen them before, though as embarrassing as the position felt…you didn’t mind it. “I was saving them for a special occasion.” He sat himself back down in the chair, eyes hungrily watching the scene unfold before him. “Well I certainly think this is a special occasion.” Akaza was on his knees now, hands grasping your knees before slowly sliding down your thighs.

You shivered as his warm breath fanned over your cunt, thighs tensing in anticipation. “I’m going to enjoy this.” He was saying it more so to himself rather than you. “Oh~” his tongue licked up your folds slowly, after a moment he spread them apart with his fingers for better access. Your breathing stopped for a moment when you felt the cool ball of his tongue piercing ghosted over your clit. He gauged your reaction based on the way your thighs tensed. He ran his free hand up the back of your thigh, the other keeping you spread open.

He seemed to have an internal debate on whether or not to tease you or indulge himself. That debate seemed to end quickly as he buried his whole face against you. You would have dug your fingers into his pink strands had you not been restrained. Your back arched off the mattress each time his nose or piercing hit your clit. You felt hot all over with each sound that left his mouth, nothing but sloppy, wet kisses echoed in the room. Even as his piercing warmed up, there was still an undeniable difference between his spongy tongue and the smooth metal.

You felt your orgasm building, your eyes started to water as the fingers spreading you apart dipped into your entrance. “Akaza!” You wailed, not expecting him to suddenly go two knuckles deep inside of you. You felt his lips curl into a smirk even as his tongue continued to assault your clit. His fingers began massaging your walks, the gummy texture making squelching noises with each movement. A silent cry left your lips as he pinpointed the spot that had you seeing stars. You have to admit, you were convinced Kyojuro was amazing when it came to oral. Akaza definitely had him beat, you were partially convinced it was because of the tongue piercing.

Kyojuro was watching with avid interest now, each whine that left your lips made his own cock twitch. He undid the belt on his pants, throwing it off to the side as he shakily undid his button and zipper. He zeroed in on your breast, a smile creeping up his face as they bounced with each thrust of Akaza’s fingers. He lifted his hips, pulling his pants down and his underwear along with it. He sighed in relief as his cock was freed from its confines. Even over your moans you zeroed in on the source of his voice. With a dazed look in your eyes, you watched him begin to stroke himself.

“Ah ah, keep your eyes on me.” A slap to your thigh had you crying out in pain. He curled his fingers in you, making you twitch out of surprise. Your orgsam was quickly approaching you now, tears slipping down your cheeks as Akaza’s fingers began to move at a brutal pace. “A-akaza!” You wanted to squirm away from his touch, his lips wrapping around your clit and sucking in time with his fingers made your toes curl. You felt your buildup becoming too much, as if you’d burst at any second.

“She’s a squirter, Akaza.” Kyojuro’s revelation only made Akaza’s fingers move quicker. “K-Kyo! W-ahh- why would you expose me!” You wailed, head falling back as your walls spasmed around his fingers. You could tell Akaza was bursting at the seems to say something, but if he pulled his mouth away your orgasm would fizzle away with it. Your cheeks burned with embarrassment as you fell over the edge, Akaza’s name leaving your lips in a mantra. “Whew.” Akaza pulled away from your cunt, your arousal dripping down his chin. “Who knew you were such a whore, you made a mess! All because of my tongue and fingers, not even my dick.” He was laughing now, standing up to hover over you.

“Look at you, a dumb little whore already fucked out.” You didn’t even have the strength to retaliate. You sighed in relief as the restraints were undone, “c’mon, turn over.” You rolled over the best you could, squishing your face against the cool mattress. “She’s only proving my point, Kyojuro. How do you even leave the house?” Your hips were lifted up harshly, Akaza positioned you on your knees so your ass was up in the air. Kyojuro’s hand was working slowly, brushing over his tip every few strokes. He was determined to keep his orgasm at bay.

Akaza undid his pants, shaking them off and kicking them to the side. You tried your best to turn enough to see him, now that his cock was exposed to you. You caught a quick glimpse and felt your lips part. “Damn, really?” Kyojuro sounded as shocked as you felt. “What? My piercings?” Three bars, similar to the ones on his nipples, were pierced into the underside of his shaft. “Do you have any pain receptors?” Looking at them made Kyojuro’s skin crawl. “They didn’t hurt honestly.” Akaza seemed smug about that fact.

“Aww look, you want to feel them don't you?” You hadn’t even realized drool was pooling on the sheets. A loud slap echoed the room as he struck your ass, your cry followed right after. “Use your words, dumb bitch.” Your eyes widened in surprise, “I-I do…I want to feel them.” His hands buried in your hair, tugging so harshly it made you straighten. “That’s not the response I wanted.” You felt his chest hit your back before he forcefully threw you back down.

“Now I’ll ask you again, pet. You want to feel these, don’t you?” You Used your hands to push yourself up slightly, just enough so you could look back at him. “Yes, I want to feel them inside of me… please…” you thought back to earlier that day “…master.” You hated that you said it, but the reaction on his face was priceless. “There we go, maybe you aren’t so stupid after all.” His hands met the center of your back, forcing you to arch even more. “You're really pretty like this.”

The genuine compliment pulled you out of your lust-drunk haze. You looked at Kyojuro, watching his hand glide effortlessly up and down his length. “Kyojuro~” Akaza called to him as he pressed his tip against your drooling entrance. “Sing her some praises would you?” You gasped as his head pushed your walls open, just as quickly he pulled away. A shiver went up your spine as he dragged his head along your slit, your arousal making it glisten in the sunlight that was filtering through the blinds.

“Y/n?” You blinked at the sound of your own name, focusing on Kyojuro’s face rather than his hand. “Mmhmm?” Your lip trembled as Akaza pushed against your entrance again. “Are you having fun?” Akaza’s tip slipped inside, a shaky moan leaving your lips as he pulled it back out. “I-I am.” A harsh smack to your ass had you crying out yet again, at this rate your voice would be gone. “Tell him how much.” You clenched around nothing when his head slid across your clit, you wanted to scream out of frustration.

“A-a lot of fun…ah~” Akaza slipped in again, this time pushing in until the first bar hit your gooey walls. Another slap hit your asscheek, tears welling in your eyes as the stinging died down. “Be more specific. Tell him I’m better.” Golden eyes shifted over to Kyojuro, a devilish smirk creeping up his cheeks at Kyojuro’s disheveled state. “B-better?” Your brows furrowed, glancing back at him with confusion. He cocked an eyebrow at you, beginning to pull out. “Akaza…is better. So much better than you Kyojuro.” A low groan left the man’s lips, his own fist tightening around his cock as he glared at you.

“Keep going.” Akaza encouraged you, pushing a little further into you until the second bar slipped past your entrance. “He’s so…so good with his tongue.” You could barely see straight, not when Akaza was massaging the flesh of your ass with his cock halfway in you. Kyojuro’s fist didn’t slow, pumping himself at a steady pace while Akaza encouraged you to keep insulting him. “C’mon pet, keep it going.” You couldn’t, there was no way you could. Drool slipped out the corner of your mouth, hoping Akaza would prompt you again because you couldn’t possibly make a coherent sentence.

“Tell him how good I feel…” his hand found your waist, nails digging into the tender flesh until you screamed. “So good! He feels so good in me, Kyojuro!” He bottomed out fully, your walls holding him so tightly you swore you could feel every piercing and vein. “So good, is that right baby? Better than me?” Kyojuro’s cheeks were flushed, eyes locked on where Akaza disappeared inside of you. “Yes!” You weren’t even sure if you meant it, if it meant Akaza would move…you’d say anything. “Such a good whore, fuck.” Akaza’s hips pulled back half way before slamming into you again.

His hand pressed you harder against the mattress, back arching almost uncomfortably as he began pistoning his hips into you. You couldn’t think anymore, eyes unfocused as you took every inch of cock he was willing to give you. The bed frame began to creak with the force of his hips, his hands roaming all over your body. “So fucking tight, you love this don’t you? Cheating on your boyfriend, right in front of him.” He laughed harshly, a strangled moan leaving his lips as he continued his brutal pace.

Kyojuro was eating it up, the sound of skin slapping against skin only fueling his own fist. He was desperate to feel you around him, but watching you get fucked sensless while insulting him? It stirred something in him he didn’t know he had, he wanted to hear you say it. He wanted you to absolutely break his ego, make him feel useless, watching another man fuck you was bringing him more pleasure than he thought. “You look so fucking - ha - hot.” He groaned, dick twitching in his hand as he nearly came.

“Doesn’t she? She’s taking my cock so well, fucking trying to milk me dry aren’t you? No condom either, maybe I’ll get her pregnant.” You moaned loudly, walls twitching around the hot and heavy cock inside you. “Don’t you dare.” Kyojuro groaned, forcing himself to slow down so he didn’t come yet. “oh so that’s what you draw the line?” Akaza’s eyes left your bouncing frame, locking with Kyojuro’s. His eyes had defiance shining brightly in them, as if daring Kyojuro tell him no. “I can’t come in her? Shouldn’t that be her decision? Do you want my cum, little pet?” He wasn’t even close yet, but the way you squeezed him had him breathless.

“W-want it so..so bad. Please…” you buried your face in the mattress, each thrust was so deep you could have sworn he touched your cervix. You didn’t even realize what you had said, you just didn’t want him to stop. Akaza’s hand buried itself in your hair, pulling you up to him until your back was flush against his chest. “Do you think you are even worthy of it?” He let go of your hair, hands coming down to cup both of your breasts. You whimpered as he tugged on your nipples in time with his trusts. You didn’t even realize you could feel his nipple piercings on your back, not only that but you couldn’t see the blush on his face.

“She’s getting close Kyojuro~” Akaza’s voice was right next to your ear, this new angle allowed him to reach even deeper. Your walls spasmed around his length, you could feel all three piercings pressing into your walls. You looked over at Kyojuro with sleepy eyes, watching him pump himself in time with Akaza’s hips. You could tell from the splotches beginning to form on his chest that he was close. “Don’t…come y-yet.” Akaza’s hips stilled, looking at you with confusion. “I don’t want Kyojuro coming yet.” You whined, trying to bounce yourself on his now still cock.

“Oh…I see.” Akaza pulled out of you completely, leaving you breathless at the sudden emptiness. The next thing you knew you were on your back, Akaza’s sweaty face looking down at you. “Sorry, I only get to fuck you once and there are a lot of things I’d like to try.” He pulled one of your legs over his shoulder, lining himself up with your entrance before slamming back into you fully. “Kyojuro over there, gets you any time you want him. Isn’t that right?” He used his free hand to press down on your abdomen, forcing you to try and blink away stars.

“He gets this pretty little cunt any day of the week.” Akaza was shaking with the force of his thrusts. The little hand trick he learned about definitely worked not only on you, but him as well. “Don’t you dare come, Kyojuro.” The venom in his tone actually made Kyojuro’s hand freeze, he looked at Akaza with wide eyes. Akaza’s thrusts shook the bed, one leg on the ground gave him all the leverage he needed. With his hand on your stomach you felt your orgasm building up for the second time that day. “Oh~” you reached down, fingers sliding between your folds so you could toy with your clit.

You were worried Akaza wouldn’t allow it, but he seemed to approve of your actions. “C’mon little pet, tell me how close you are. Tell your boyfriend over there how I’m about to make you come for the second time.” You whined, lips trembling as you tried to focus on your orgasm. “Fuck…” you were so close, your fingers rubbed frantic circles on your clit as Akaza thrusted his hips into you. “Come for me, pet.” You cried out his name, hips and legs spasming as you chased your orgasm.

You finally came with a cry of his name, walls squeezing around him as you rode it out. “Shit…” his voice was strained, brows furrowing as he chased his own release. “K-Kyojuro…don’t come yet…” you whined, eyes squeezing shut as Akaza’s movements began to overstimulate you. You squealed with what strength you had left as Akaza’s hands grabbed the flesh of your ass, holding your lower half up off the bed as he buried himself deep. Out of all the faces you expected him to make when he came, you weren’t expecting the face you got.

His pink hair was dripping with sweat, cheeks flushed pink as his eyes crossed just slightly. You focused in on his mouth, lips parted as strained gasps left him. He pulled out of you a minute later, his release spilling out of you. “S-shit!” It felt warm and sticky between your legs, Akaza collapsed on the mattress beside you. “Take care of your boyfriend.” His eyes were already fluttering shut. Your eyes widened, head whipping around to see Kyojuro staring at you expectantly. “Come here please…” you sat yourself up, legs hanging off the side of the bed.

Kyojuro did as you asked, standing before you with a soft smile. “Let me help.” Shaky hands wrapped around his length, you pumped slowly before bringing the tip to your lips. Your tongue swirled slowly around his irritated tip, collecting the salty precum that oozed out. “Shit…don’t worry, I’m close.” His hands were soft and tender against your cheeks, he could see how tired you were. You took a little more of his length into your mouth, using your hands to pump him. By the way he was twitching you knew he wasn’t kidding when he said he was close.

All it took was you hollowing your cheeks and he was spilling his load onto your tongue. “So good for me…did you enjoy yourself baby?” Kyojuro pulled out of your mouth, thumb brushing the drool away from your bottom lip. “I…I did.” You felt a bit of guilt saying that. “Don’t look so shy, I’m glad you enjoyed yourself. My one complaint is to you, Akaza.” You looked over at the spent man beside you, his golden eyes peeking up at Kyojuro and you. “I don’t want to hear whatever it is.”

“Oh, well that’s a shame cause I’m going to tell you anyway. You could have marked her up a little more.” Rough fingertips trailed your skin, counting each bite and bruise mark left on your shoulders. “So much you said you wanted to do, since you only get her this once.” Kyojuro seemed to be pondering something, Akaza’s full attention was on him now. “I guess I’ll have to give you another round with her whenever you are both up to it.”

You watched him walk towards the bathroom with wide eyes, did he just offer Akaza another round? You flopped backwards, too tired to keep yourself sitting up. “I guess I did more than win you over, pet.” Akaza’s voice was sleepy, leave it to him to be so tired after everything he just did. Kyojuro returned a moment later with a wet cloth to clean you up. “You can fend for yourself.” He cut akaza off before he could even open his mouth. “Both of you can get some rest in here, don’t push your luck Akaza. Or I’ll have to take back my offer.”

“Oh give me a break, lover boy.”

[pleniloon]

if you want thirst I’ll give you thirst 😭 maid!reader walking in on their master jerking off 🫠 can be anyone idc

“You Called, Master?”

part one (cont.) / part two

characters: albedo, ayato, childe, dainsleif, diluc, kaeya

summary: maid!reader walks in on their master getting off.

genre: smut

warnings: afab!reader (no pronouns); pet names (darling, dear, love), unprotected, overstim (dain), master-maid dynamic

note: head in hands,, i didn’t even finish reading this before my brain went DING‼️ DING‼️ DING‼️ like a thirsty mf 🫠 also guys i am on my knees BEGGING for more dain content please i will give you my c6 xingqiu 🙏

you just had to be so good and obedient for him, didn’t you? getting on your knees and smiling sweetly after walking in on him fucking his fist in his office. giving his tip kitten licks and sucking on it, holding his shaft with both your hands and teasing him. it’s only when you lower your head and feel his cock hit the back of your throat that your master lets out a low moan. his gloved hands find purchase in your hair, pushing you down ‘till you’re gagging on his dick. oh, how your lips feel divine wrapped around him.

— diluc is gentle, letting praise fall off his tongue between every labored breath. “so good…” “you’re doing so well…” “just like that, dear…” he pushes your hair to the side and watches you suck him off, groaning when you moan so prettily around his cock. even amidst his pleasure he notices the way you rub your thighs together. “get me off with your mouth, and i’ll fill your pretty little cunt as a reward,” he promises. you swirl your tongue around his length and let him use your throat as he pleases, all with the hope of being stuffed full. and, when diluc does cum on your tongue, he keeps that promise. with your back pressed against the polished wood of his desk, diluc bunches up your frilly uniform at your hips and yanks your panties down your thighs. you let out such a sweet moan when he penetrates you, the leather of his gloves pressing into your hips so tightly to keep you still. the way your slick walls took him in so deep made his head spin. “m’gonna fill you up now, okay? you deserve a reward for being so good for me…”

— ayato is a tease above all, even in a situation like this. with you on your knees in front of him, moaning and drooling while he treats your throat like a toy. he can’t help the amused chuckle that falls from his parted lips when he notices your squirming. “go on, darling… get yourself off.” ayato watches you slip your hand under your skirt, pushing your panties aside just enough to slide two fingers inside your cunt. another sweet moan vibrates against his length, and he almost pulls you off his dick to fuck you himself. almost. “such an obedient little maid, hmm?” he teases you as if he isn’t affected by the situation. “i should have asked you to suck me off a long time ago…” he muses, pulling you by your hair off his length. ayato uses his thumb to keep your lips parted as he cums on your tongue, the possessive spark in his eyes igniting when you cum on your fingers at nearly the same time. “such obedience deserves more ceremony than this, don’t you think? sit on my lap, dear - let me give you a reward worthwhile.”

he didn’t need a maid, you were well aware of that when you took this job. your master kept you around because he enjoyed having something pretty to look at when he came home, and you did a wonderful job keeping the place clean for him. being the only servant in the home meant not needing to worry so much about “professionalism,” and your master took advantage of that on every occasion. still, you never expected to walk in on him getting himself off. just like every other household duty, satisfying your master was left to you.

— kaeya let out a pleased hum as you lowered onto his cock, your fingers pushing your panties aside to make room for him. you pulled your hand away and dug your nails into his shoulders once he was fully sheathed in your cunt, letting out a breathy moan when he rolled his hips into yours. his hands rested against your lower back and under your ass, giving you little time to prepare before he started bouncing you up and down his length. kaeya spoke right next to your ear and teased you incessantly. “you– hah, fuck– you’re really enjoying this, huh? you love serving your master like this?” his teasing words all but disappeared when you circled your hips and started bouncing yourself. instead of playful remarks and comments, kaeya was praising you like no other. “keep going, just like that… you’re so good, love…” he groaned, rutting into you like a man depraved. he pulled out, stroking his shaft a few times and releasing on your clean uniform. he looked at you with amused smirk as you tried to get up. “oh, you thought that we were done? i still need your services, love.”

— childe pressed your face into the cotton pillow, muffling your moans as he sunk into you with a single thrust. “ahh, this is what i’ve been waiting for.” he declared, wrapping his hand around your hair and pressing his palm into your shoulder. “obedience is so wonderful, isn’t it?” you could hardly form a coherent thought with your master setting a brutal pace, the sound of his hips slapping against your ass being the only thing you could focus on. you tried to match his pace, tried to meet his hips with your own, but he leaned over your back and chuckled next to your ear. “no need to think about anything else right now,” his arm wrapped around your body and reached for your clit, rubbing fast circles on the sensitive bud and making you sob into the pillow. “that’s it, just fall apart…” childe cooed in your ear, his sweet voice starkly contrasting the way he fucked your cunt like it was his only chance to do so. “i’ve got a lot of fantasies to live out tonight, so don’t get too lost in the pleasure just yet…”

your master was seldom home - you often wondered why he employed you at all. if you ever questioned his reasons, he would simply brush you off and say that your services were necessary. judging by the collection of antiques, documents, and other items that filled the shelves of his home, you were left to assume that your master employed you to keep those items safe. and, despite seeing little of him, you had developed a number of fantasies about him. somehow, being laid out atop his underused bed with his head between your legs was not one of them.

— albedo claimed it was all for an “experiment,” but his notebook had long been discarded on the floor. he took your clit between his lips and lavished it with his tongue, sliding two fingers inside your slick folds and curling his fingers up. you bit your hand to keep from sobbing his name, whimpering when he pulled away and stared you down. “don’t silence yourself. if you do, then i won’t let you touch me,” you knew that his threat was true - as albedo resumed his ministrations, scissoring his fingers and licking a stripe up to your clit, flicking it with the tip of his tongue, you let out a series of whiny moans. he pulled back just enough to speak, his hot breath fanning over you. “see, was that so difficult?” his skilled fingers were soon joined by a third, making you arch your back as your walls clenched around them. albedo hummed around your clit and pressed his free hand into your stomach to keep you from wiggling too much as you came. “hmm, interesting… but, i think i may need to run this experiment a few more times.”

— dainsleif was the most enigmatic of all - despite rarely saying more than a word to you, he was straightforward when telling you to sit on his face. now, he had your thighs in an iron grip as he licked into your pussy like it was ambrosia. you could do little but grip the headboard and tug at his messy locks, your moans bordering on sobs of your master’s name. he laid his head back against the pillow and huffed, clearly annoyed. “i told you to sit, not hover. listen to me when i give you orders.” dainsleif pulled your hips down and pressed your cunt against his lips, caring not for his own neglected cock or need for air. he let out a low groan and pressed his thumb to your clit, rubbing small circles around it while his tongue dipped into your folds once more. you wriggled your hips and tried to ride his tongue, but to no avail; your master was far stronger than the average man. even when you came on his face, he continued his abuse of your cunt, licking and sucking up everything you had to offer and coating his chin in your slick. only when you whimpered and begged him to stop did he pull away to catch his breath, chuckling softly at your panting and pretty whines. “no need to worry about me… i’m quite alright staying here for the rest of the night.”

a/n: i have never responded to an ask so quickly… what does this say about me and my blog. 🫥

[letstalkaboutfandomsbaby]

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scum of the earth

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ʚ Naoya Zen'in x chubby fem reader ɞ

Part 1 ♥︎ Part 2 ♥︎ Part 3 ♥︎ Part 4 ♥︎ Part 5

❥ Word count: 12.9k

❥ CW: chubby fem reader, blatant fatphobia (i.e. name calling, insults, just all around horrible behavior), angst, mild violence (somebody gets punched), drinking (i.e. getting drunk), vomiting, mentions of suicide, lots of communication, smut, face sitting, somewhat dom reader near the end

❥ A/N: heyyyy bitchessssss aldklajfla hope yall're doing well 💕 welp! It's finally here! It's much longer than i thought it would be but im happy with how it turned out. I hope you all enjoy it as well :) thank you for being patient and sticking with me on this journey. I'm very grateful for all your support and kind words about this series 💕

You were tougher than you looked. 

Naoya thought you would crack pretty quick, forty minutes, an hour tops. But there you were across the room, laughing along with his aunts, his little cousins running around and stopping by your side every so often. He watched you lean down and let them whisper something in your ear, taking a long drink when you smiled and looked back at them, telling them something in response. The scene would've usually tugged at his heart strings, made him want to put a baby in you and start a family of your own, but right now it made him sick. You shouldn't be over there: you should be by his side, giggling at his jokes and leaning in when he'd whisper gossip to you. You should've been next to him so he could wrap his arm around you, pull your chair closer to his, maybe move his hand down to your ass and squeeze. He could practically hear you whine in protest, pushing on his chest and pouting, complaining about him being so handsy when people were around–

"Are you listening?"

Naoya sighed, tipping back his glass of whiskey before glancing at the woman beside him. She was the daughter of some big-wig his father had invited, blonde and thin, her spray tan a bit darker than it should be. He was pretty sure her tits were fake too, but he wasn't certain.

"No, not really. What did you say?" She scoffed, leaning towards him, her breasts pressing against the fabric of her chest. Wasn't her outfit a bit too revealing for a black tie event? You were dressed much better than her, more mature, stunning–

"I was saying that I was going to go to Belize next month but Daddy is telling me that I can't go until I act more 'responsible' but like I've already found a super cute bikini and I invited all my friends–"

God, he didn't care, he didn't fucking care. This was quite possibly the last thing he wanted to be doing, listening to some ditzy twig talk about her stupid vacation. He wanted to be beside you, wanted to talk to you. He was still staring at you, wondering if you had considered this a vacation before you got mad at him, if this was something you'd want to do again when you weren't so angry, once you'd forgiven him. Maybe he could take you on a trip to Bora Bora to apologize, lavish you with gifts and enough attention to make you sick. He'd love to see you in a slutty lil swimsuit, something small and tight that squeezed you just right. Maybe he could get a private beach so he could keep you away from the lingering gazes of other men. Plus, he could always take your swimsuit off himself on that isolated shore and–

"Oh my God, you're not listening!" Naoya sighed and rolled his eyes, standing up and giving the girl a fake smile.

"Sorry, hun. Gotta go take a piss. Go find somebody else to talk to."

She scoffed as he walked away, mouth hung open in shock, but he didn't care. He moved around the tables and crowd, barely paying attention to the busy dance floor. His eyes were on you, on the curve of your back as you leaned forward on the table, smiling brightly as you typed away on your phone. You were alone, Keiko and Keiya off doing who knows what, so Naoya took the opportunity to pull out the seat next to you and sit down. You glanced up, frowning once you saw him, tensing as you looked back at your phone.

"So… you gonna ignore me all night? Or are we gonna act like adults and talk through this?"

"I have nothing to say to you," you spoke flatly, not peeling your eyes from your phone. Naoya pushed down his frustration, stifling the urge to yell and demand your full attention.

"Look, I'm sorry, okay? I didn't think it would hurt you. I should've talked to you before introducing you to my dad." You didn't say anything, still typing on your phone, making him anxious. "I said I'm sorry."

"I heard you." He waited for you to continue, but when you didn't say anything else, he instinctively filled the space.

"Look, I'm sorry, I really am. Just let me make it up to you, okay? We can go away somewhere and just relax for a couple days, shit, we could leave for a couple weeks if you want, I don't care, just–"

"I don't want to be around you anymore, Naoya. I deserve better."

"Babe, please–"

"Please don't call me babe anymore. I don't wanna talk to you." You took a deep breath, grabbing your champagne glass and taking a sip. "I will be civil to you for the rest of this trip but I don't want anything to do with you once we get home." Oh, he didn't like that answer one bit. Desperate times.

"And what if I don't let you go home, huh? What if I just cancel your ticket and force you to stay?"

"Keiya said she would help me out if I needed anything." Shit.

"Oh, yeah? What else is Keiya gonna do for ya? She gonna take you shopping? Make you her sugar baby? Eat your pussy?"

"Y/N!!" Naoya stopped when his little cousins ran up to the other side of you, grabbing your dress and patting your leg. "They said they would do-do the chicken dance if-if-if enough people asked–"

"We wanna do the chicken dance with you!"

"Can you ask them pretty please? We wanna dance the chicken dance!" Your laugh was light and glittery, sweet as nectar, and Naoya found his anger melting at the sound. How could someone have him wrapped around their finger with just a giggle?

"Alright, alright, I'll go ask them. Are your mom and aunt gonna ask too?"

"Uh-huh!"

"Yep!"

"Okay, then let's all go ask together. I'm sure they'll play it if we ask nice enough." The twins cheered, bouncing as you stood up. Naoya quickly reached out, wrapping his hand around your wrist, making you look back at him confused.

"I'm not done talking." Your eyes darkened and you gave him a look he had never seen before: one of absolute indifference.

"I am." Your gaze did not falter as you shook him off, glaring at him before reaching for his cousins' hands, smiling down at them. "Let's go, ladies." You walked off without another word, not looking back, not giving any indication that he even existed to you. He felt his hands twitch as he watched you walk off. He bit at his lower lip, chewing it into oblivion as he looked down at his whiskey glass, mind racing.

Okay, she doesn't want to talk. That's fine. Two can play at that game. You can ignore her too. She'll be back at some point. But as his eyes trailed back up to you—as he saw how you smiled brightly at people you had just met—a small voice in his head arose.

She's not going to come back.

Okay, maybe she won't come back right away, but you can make it up to her. You've won plenty of women over after much worse actions. Maybe you could send her flowers or do one of those stupid grand gestures that they do in romance movies, show up to her job and get on your knees, beg her to forgive you. You can put on a show if it means getting her back.

As if that would make her forgive you. She's never shown interest in those things before; why would she start now? Naoya watched you across the reception room, leg bouncing as he saw his aunt Keiya lean towards you and whisper something in your ear. He felt his stomach churn when you tossed your head back and gave a heartfelt laugh. See? She doesn't need you. She never did. Why would she choose you over the dozens of other people who would treat her so much better?

She doesn't have dozens of people lining up to date her–

How do you know?

Oh, God. He didn't know. He didn't know at all. There was so much uncertainty around you—your past, your goals—did he even know what your favorite color was? What was your last name again? Did you even have parents? You two never talked about your families…

A large hand clapped onto Naoya's back, almost launching him into the table. He choked on his drink, stifling a cough as a boisterous laugh sounded beside him.

"Jeez, looks like somebody can't handle his liquor."

God damn it all.

"The fuck do you want, Naotake?" The elder Zen'in whistled, leaning down to get a better look at Naoya.

"Damn, who shit in your cereal this morning? Can't even give a polite 'hello' to your big brother?" Naoya gulped down his whiskey, sending his brother a glare.

"Maybe I would greet my brothers if they were worth my time."

"Just as cold as usual, I see. But seriously, how have you been? Haven't seen you since Ogi's wedding and that was years ago." Naoya kept quiet, staring at you from across the hall, watching you sway lazily with one of his little cousins in your arms, their cheek squished against your shoulder. His brother hummed, putting his hand on Naoya's shoulder. "Girl trouble?"

"Fuck off." Naotake gave a laugh, patting his shoulder.

"C'mon. Let's get you a refill." Naoya glanced down at his glass, sighing when he realized it was empty save for a bit of leftover ice. He begrudgingly stood up, pausing when his head spun for a moment, quickly recovering before walking to the bar with Naotake.

"Whiskey Sour or Old Fashioned?"

"Just straight."

"Shit, really? You must really be having a hard time." Naoya wanted to make a snide comment back, but his right temple pounded uncomfortably, leaving him mute. His brother didn't seem to care: he ordered a whiskey on the rocks for Naoya and a highball for himself, pushing a five dollar bill towards the bartender.

"So," he started, pushing the far-too-filled glass of whiskey to his brother, leaning against the bar, "what's her name?" Naoya stayed silent, contemplating his empty glass before pushing it away, grabbing the full one and tossing it back.

"Y/N."

"Pretty. How'd ya meet her?" Another chug, one that weighed heavy in the back of his throat, making his mouth sticky.

"She's my neighbor."

"Cute. So, you flirt with her by the mailboxes one day and make your move, or did it take time to ask her out?" Naoya's head felt heavy, like there were too many thoughts spinning around in his skull, weighing him down.

"We're not dating." The words came out without much thought, but the implication behind them left a hard pit in his stomach. Oh, God, is this how you felt when he had just called you his neighbor, indicating that you were nothing more? Did you feel just as sick and worthless as he did right now?

"Not dating? So why did you bring her?" Why did he bring you? Why did he whine and complain when you first said that you didn't want to come? Why did he insist that you spend time with him in a far away place?

"I… well, I wanted her to come."

"I understand that, but why?"

"Why are you interrogating me? Is it a crime to bring a plus one that you're not dating?" Naotake held up a hand in surrender.

"Hey, I didn't say anything like that. I'm just confused as to why you brought along a girl that you're not dating. Dating isn't really your style in the first place so I'm lost."

Dating really wasn't his style, for a multitude of reasons. Strict rules and a lack of a caring motherly figure in his childhood home: he just wasn't raised to love like that. Naoya had always considered himself a bachelor, going from woman to woman, enjoying them until he had his fill and then leaving them without any consideration for how they would feel waking up in an empty bed. He never liked the thought of dating, of being tied down to just one person, worried about the endless list of risks. He probably took that after his father, one of the many things he would inherit in his lifetime.

But then you came along, plump and beaming and filled to the brim with a sincerity he wasn't used to. He knew very well how fake people were in his world, singing his praises of how wonderful he was, the best Zen'in son, the clear heir to his father's empire. He was used to the exaggerations and the brown-nosing from strangers and friends in hopes that he would sprinkle a bit of his wealth onto them, blessing them with a fraction of his destined fortune. He knew how to sniff it out, how to play the game so he could trail people along as long as he liked until he grew bored and left them behind. He could taste the tracest amount of saccharine; he had grown accustomed to its flavor, to its artificial taste.

You, on the other hand, were pure sugarcane, sweet and honest and real despite how artificial the rest of the world was. It was refreshing, in a frightening way. Is that why he bullied you in the beginning, treating you like absolute garbage? Was he just so unused to genuine kindness that it made him build his walls even higher, turning him cruel and defensive and downright bitter?

"So, you're not dating but you brought your neighbor along with you anyways. Are yall fucking or something?" Naoya paused when his drink reached his lips, shrugging and downing the last of it, putting his glass on the counter and signaling for the bartender to refill it.

"I guess."

"Well, you are or you aren't, but if you brought her along then I assume you're at least fucking." Naoya pulled his newly filled glass back to him, swallowing down some phlegm building in the back of his throat. "Okay, then let me ask you this: does she matter to you?" 

What kind of question was that? Of course you did. You mattered more than people he knew since kindergarten, more than friends and family who only cared about him because his presence alone had benefits. And that didn't even scratch the surface of all the bullshit expectations he had to live up to.  You mattered so, so much; why couldn't you see that? Did one word really mean that much to you? Would being his girlfriend really have solved the inevitable downfall of your relationship? You would've left him sooner or later: either he would get bored or you would realize, just like today, that you deserved better. Why tie you down with a label when you would free yourself from it eventually? You both knew that he was trash; if it wasn't for his dad's money and influence, nobody would give him a second glance.

"To be honest, if you are fucking her, I'm surprised. She doesn't seem like she fits your standards."

"What?" he snapped at Naotake, glaring at him through the haze of booze coursing through him. Naoya's brother shrugged, staring straight ahead.

"I mean, she's kinda pretty, but not really hot. You always went after the hot girls so I'm just shocked that you went after a… big girl like her, ya know?"

No, he didn't know. What the fuck was his brother talking about? Not hot? Jesus, how blind could he be? You were absolutely radiant tonight; Naoya wasn't sure if he'd ever seen you so beautiful before. You looked like an angel, absolutely glowing under the hall's chandeliers, and this idiot had the audacity to say you weren't hot.

"If you don't see how hot she is then that's your problem."

"Ooo, someone's getting defensive. You sure you aren't dating?"

"Fuck off."

"Alright, alright," he mumbled, turning around to lean his back against the bar. "I'm just confused, I guess. I mean, you've always been an ass man so I can kind of see why you chose her—" how dare he look at you "—but I can't see the appeal of the rest of her."

"Naotake. If I want your opinion, I'll ask for it."

"Sure, but you know me. I like to give my opinion regardless!" He let out a hearty laugh, but Naoya didn't see what was so funny. He didn't see why his pathetic elder brother would laugh about something like this. "But seriously, Naoya, a fat girl? I just… I don't know, man, she's not ugly but she'd look a hell of a lot better if she cut the carbs and worked out once in a while."

Oh, that made his blood boil, which was odd since Naoya would've said something similar not even a year ago. But it was different coming from a stranger, from a nobody that didn't know the first thing about you. He'd never know how soft the wide expanse of your skin was or how sweetly you keened when someone squeezed your tummy while pounding your perfect cunt or how your round cheeks felt when he cupped your face and you smiled. He was just spouting ignorance at this point. Regardless, it pissed Naoya off.

"Like her face is pretty and all, and sure her tits look good, but Jesus, you can see her belly pushing up against her dress and shit. It looks gross. If you are fucking her, you must do it from the back all the time so you don't have to see it."

God, is this how Naoya used to talk? Was it the booze making him realize how terrible this all sounded? Considering all the horrible things he once said about your body before he knew you, no wonder you were so willing to drop him the minute he fucked up.

"I mean, credit where credit is due, she's got a nice rack on her. Bet her areolas look like bologna slices, huh?"

Naoya downed the last of his drink, setting it on the counter with a thud. He was getting tired of this, getting sick of hearing his stupid, worthless brother go on and on about you, talking about you like you were nothing more than a toy to be used and discarded.

You have no right to complain. You treated her the exact same way.

"To be honest with you, if you're not dating then I may take her for a spin. At least then I could find out what all the fuss is about with a whale like her–"

It all happened so fast. The wind-up, the followthrough, his older brother falling to the floor and grabbing his cheek. Naoya hadn't even fully processed that he had punched Naotake until his hand started to throb, blood rushing to the point of contact. 

He was breathing heavily, eyes glazed as he stared at his brother, not blinking until one of his distant family members rushed over to help him up off the ground. Naoya inhaled sharply, head spinning as he looked up at the reception. Not many had noticed what just occurred, but it was enough to make him shrink in on himself. He could see his father's disapproving glare across the room, his bimbo of a receptionist sitting on his lap, clinging to him tightly. Naoya's eyes struggled to scan the attendees, eventually settling on you. You were staring right back, eyes wide in shock or fear, your hands holding his cousin's head towards your shoulder so she couldn't see the events that were unfolding. 

His stomach twisted horribly as he struggled to swallow. He turned his back on the crowd, looking up at the nervous bartender. He leaned against the bar, pulling out his wallet from his back pocket.

"Gimme the bottle."

"S-Sir… I'm not sure if —" Naoya reached out quickly, grabbing the poor man by the collar, pulling his face close.

"The bottle." The bartender gulped, grabbing the nearby bottle of whiskey and putting it up on the counter. Naoya released him, tossing him a bill of unknown value before snatching the bottle, rushing out of the reception.

Stupid stupid stupid, he repeated as he trudged to the elevators, pulling the cork lid off and drinking straight from the bottle. He hit the wrong floor at first, but corrected himself after focusing on the numbered buttons for far too long. The elevator made him woozy, but he made it out alive, wobbling down the hall as he gulped down too much whiskey. Hopefully he'd feel better after a short shower and some sleep. Maybe he wouldn't be so miserable in the morning.

No. Who was he kidding? He deserved to feel this shitty, to drown his sorrows in alcohol until he blacked out. What better punishment than misery for the scum of the Earth?

"Are you sure you wanna go alone, hun? We can send one of his uncles up with ya."

"No, I'll be fine."

"Alright… I'm just worried he'll get violent with you too." You paused, contemplating her words.

"I'll be alright. I can take care of myself." Keiya gave you a sympathetic smile, holding out her hands to take Mai. You transferred the sleeping girl to her aunt's shoulder, rubbing her back soothingly before smiling at her. "Thank you for looking out for me tonight. I really appreciate all of it."

"No problem, hun. If you need anything—anything at all—you've got my number, okay?" You nodded, giving the woman one more side hug before pulling away, waving at Keiko before leaving the reception. It was a short trip to the elevator and up to your floor: you didn't see Naoya anywhere along the way, assuming he would be in your shared room having a temper tantrum of sorts. A part of you didn't want to check on him, wanted to make him wallow in misery for a while, but you were better than that. You still cared about him despite it all. You'd made a strong emotional connection with him; you couldn't get rid of those feelings within a couple hours, despite how badly you wished you could.

You were shifting through your clutch to find your key card, looking up and slowing down once you reached your room. There was Naoya, sitting on the floor with his back against the wall, head slumped to one side and eyes closed. There was an empty bottle of whiskey beside him, his jacket on the other side, bow tie unraveled and resting around his neck.

"You look like shit," you muttered mostly to yourself, shaking your head as you took in the pathetic display in front of you. Naoya peeked at you with one eye, soon closing it and slumping back.

"F'rgo ma card." You shook your head, snorting softly.

"And after all the nagging you did to make sure I had mine." You leaned down to pick up the empty bottle and his coat, shaking his shoulder. "C'mon, asshole. Let's get you in bed." He groaned, slouching even further towards the ground.

"Don' wanna."

"Although I would love to leave you out here as a way of revenge, I'd feel bad. Get up." Naoya huffed, giving a weak attempt at resisting your hand tugging at his upper arm. He got to his knees eventually, pausing for quite a while before getting up on his feet with your help. He wobbled and you struggled to steady him, but he found his footing and was able to stand while you unlocked the door. You pushed it open with your foot, keeping an arm around his waist as you guided him inside.

"Jesus, Naoya, what am I going to do with you?" He huffed, leaning too much of his weight onto you.

"Where's Y/N?" Oh, wonderful, he didn't realize who you were. You weren't sure if that made things better or worse.

"I don't know," you lied, dropping his coat and the empty glass bottle on the table near the door. He grumbled something incoherent, leaning further into you, making you groan. "Naoya! Come on, this is ridiculous, you gotta get up!"

"Wan' Y/N… where is she?"

"Jesus Christ," you lifted Naoya's chin, forcing his dazed expression to point to you. "I'm here, see? I'm right here." He blinked groggily, struggling to straighten up and stand on his own. Once he did, he cupped your face, squinting at you, pushing your chubby cheeks together.

"Y/N?" he slurred. You sighed, nodding into his hands. He sucked in a breath, his eyes softening considerably before he pulled you to him, burying his face into your hair. "Oh, baby, I missed you. Missed you so much."

You relaxed yourself as best you could in his grasp, letting him squeeze you tightly. It was better to let him do as he pleased while he was drunk; the last thing you wanted was for him to stumble and get hurt if you tried to push him away. You pat his shoulder, letting him breathe in your scent.

"Ma sweet baby, ma pretty girl. I missed you so much, beautiful." You braced yourself for his eventual wandering hands, expecting him to reach down and squeeze your ass as best he could in his drunken state, but his hands didn't move. His arms stayed wrapped around your shoulders, one hand bracing the back of your head, keeping you secure. You weren't sure how long you had stood there before he pulled back.

"My sweet girl," he muttered, leaning down to press a sloppy kiss on your lips. It was lazy and uncoordinated, wet and messy. You kept your mouth sealed shut, face twisting at the strong smell of alcohol suffocating your senses. Maybe you should just push him off, maybe call for somebody to come take care of him so you wouldn't have to deal with this—

You didn't have time to decide. Just a moment later, Naoya pulled away, staring blankly for a minute before releasing you and rushing into the bathroom. You heard the toilet seat open followed by the sound of him gagging, apparently throwing up. You cringed, grateful that he at least didn't release his stomach contents on you. You sighed, kicking off your heels, moving to your suitcase.

You entered the bathroom with a glass of water and a headband, cautiously moving to Naoya's side. He was keeled over the toilet, his head hanging over the bowl. He spit out some phlegm, heaving a bit and breathing heavily.

"Here," you cooed, gently stretching the headband over his skull, slowly pulling it so his hair was held back. "There. At least your hair is out of the way." He didn't respond when you pulled away. You moved to a shelf holding towels, grabbing a washcloth and going to the sink. You drowned it in cold water, wringing it out before going back to Naoya. You pressed the washcloth on the back of his neck, brushing aside a few hairs with your free hand.

"I wish I was dead," Naoya blubbered, his mouth covered in a layer of saliva, a string of spit leading into the toilet.

"No, you don't," you replied, moving the washcloth to his forehead, pressing the cool towel against him. "You're just drunk and you don't feel good."

"Nobody would care." He leaned further against the toilet, arms hugging the bowl. "Y/N wouldn't care. She'd be happier." Ah, so he forgot who you were again.

"No, she wouldn't." You wiped his mouth, cleaning off the spit, standing up and walking back to the sink.

"Yeah… she would. She hates me. Ev'rybody hates me."

"No, they don't." Where was this coming from? Naoya was the most narcissistic, egotistical jerk you had ever met. Suddenly he was depressed? It doesn't add up, you thought, going back to where he kneeled.

"Ev'rythin would be better if I was dead," he babbled, sighing when you laid the cool washcloth on the back of his neck. "Wanna jump off a buildin."

"Don't talk like that," you whispered, rubbing his back. He grew silent, suddenly hunching further over the bowl and throwing up some more. You winced, turning away slightly as he upchucked, spitting out the last of it.

"'m a piece a shit." Well, you couldn't argue with that. "I miss her sho, shooo much. I wanna kiss 'er." He leaned back on one hand, almost falling over as he reached for his phone in his back pocket. He fumbled with it, slowly pressing against the screen before lying down on the floor, letting the phone fall beside him. You could faintly hear your phone buzzing in the next room, vibrating in your clutch bag. Was he really calling you? You waited to find out.

You could hear your voicemail play on his phone, making him moan pathetically. He weakly kicked his foot, a sad attempt at a temper tantrum. The tone beeped and Naoya turned his head towards his phone.

"Y/N," he whined, drawing out your name. "'m sorry. Please don' hate me. I miss you, wantchu so bad. Please come back, I love you sho much. So shooooo much."

You felt your heart clench at the gloomy display in front of you. Why did this have to happen now when he was drunk and sad? Why couldn't he have declared his love for you when he was sober, when he was coherent, when he could look into your eyes and mean every word? He was only saying these things because he was upset and lonely and drowning in alcohol. It was disappointing, leaving your stomach in knots as he continued to babble on to his cell phone.

"I can't do this," you whispered, sluggishly leaving the room. You reached behind you to unzip your dress, tugging it off, letting it fall to the floor and stepping out of it. You crouched beside your luggage, grabbing your sleep shirt… the one Naoya had given you weeks ago. Your pride told you to toss it aside and choose something else, but it was soft and smelled good. It had made you feel safe and secure on the hard nights you spent alone, when Naoya wasn't around to hold you tight and make all those dumb insecurities disappear. You snuggled the fabric for a moment, breathing it in, heart aching.

"It's not fair…" you mumbled, feeling tears prick at your eyes. "Of all the assholes to fall for… why'd it have to be you?"

Naoya awoke with a pounding headache. He could feel his heartbeat behind his eyes, his stomach churning as he gained consciousness. Shit, he thought with a groan, bringing his hand to his head, squeezing the bridge of his nose. What happened last night? He hadn't drank like that in ages, the last time being a huge frat party celebrating some sport's team. He reached around, fumbling on the nightstand until he found his phone. He squinted as he looked at the time, groaning when he saw that it was barely past five am. He put his phone back down, reaching behind him, searching for you–

Wait. Naoya inhaled sharply, hurrying to turn on the nightstand lamp, turning around to see the empty space beside him. His heart beat faster as he grabbed his phone, swallowing when he didn't see any message from you. He dialed your number, sitting up as the phone started to ring. He heard a faint vibrating, making him furrow his brow. He looked at your side once again, seeing your phone on the nightstand. What the–

He heard the toilet flush. He waited, watching light shine out of the bathroom before flickering away. You walked around the corner, rubbing your eyes, squinting at him. The two of you stared at each other for a moment before Naoya realized he was still calling your phone. He hung up, setting his phone down and looking back at you.

"I… I didn't know where you were." You sniffed, shrugging and trudging tiredly to your side of the bed.

"'m here," you mumbled, pulling back the covers and plopping down on the bed, sighing as you snuggled into your pillow. He gazed at your back, his heart clenching terribly.

"Are you still mad at me?" He waited for a response, watching you all the while, swallowing when you didn't answer. "Look, I know I messed up and I'm so sorry, Y/N. Please let me make it up to you." 

Still nothing. The silence was consuming him, suffocating him, dragging him down into the abyss where he worried he could never crawl out. He cautiously laid down behind you, slowly inching closer to your back.

"Please, Y/N," he pleaded again, hesitantly reaching out to fiddle with your loose nightshirt. It was a gift from him yet you still chose to wear it: that meant something, right? If you really hated him, you wouldn't have bothered to put it on. You would've tossed it aside but you were wearing it. It had to be a good sign… right?

"Y/N," he whispered again, itching for a response, for some kind of acknowledgement. God, this was like when Toji visited all over again, when you ignored him as best you could for almost two weeks straight. He couldn't stand that silence, that distance from you. It was worse now that you were right here beside him, within his reach and yet miles away.

"Please talk to me." He could feel it now, that terrible bubbling in his throat, shooting towards his eyes and making them burn. Fuck fuck fuck–

"Please say something," it was barely a breath, so soft you could've mistaken it for a breeze, but there was a crack you heard that made your eyes open wide. You listened, confirming your suspicions before you sat up quickly, turning on the lamp beside you before looking back at Naoya.

"Are you crying?" He froze, his face flushed a brilliant scarlet as he sunk under the covers quickly. You didn't let him hide for long, tugging at the sheets and exposing him to your gaze, causing him to shrink and huddle into the t-shirt you helped him into last night. "Naoya," you called, putting a hand on his arm just for him to curl further into himself, trying his best to avoid your touch. "Naoya… Naoya, look at me."

"Mm-mm," he mumbled, shaking his head under his clothes. You sighed, feeling how his skin was burning, hands trembling slightly as they covered his face. You placed your hands on top of his, gently coaxing them away.

"Don't hide from me." He didn't move as you laid down beside him again, just a few inches away from him. His hands were twitching slightly, a result of him trying to control his involuntary shaking. You rubbed your thumbs against them, trying to soothe him. You stayed quiet as you reached for the hem of his shirt, tugging it down slowly. Naoya was tense as you moved, eyes squeezed shut as his face was exposed. You could see tears staining his rosy cheeks, his lower lip tugged between his teeth.

"Naoya… why are you crying?" He shook his head, turning onto his stomach to bury his face in his pillow.

"'m not." God, he was such a terrible liar. Even when you could clearly see the truth, he still insisted on putting up a front.

"Why are you crying, Naoya?"

"Fuck off, 'm not cryin'," he grumbled turning from his stomach to his other side, his back to you. Seriously?

"Why do you do this?" Naoya sniffled, glancing over his shoulder at you.

"...What?"

"This," you gestured towards him, pushing yourself up into a seated position. "Acting all sad and pretending you want me and then pushing me away." Naoya frowned, turning onto his back and wiping at his face.

"I'm not pretending to want you—"

"Seriously? That's the part you're worried about? Not the 'pushing me away' bit?" He huffed, propping himself up on his elbows to face you better, his depression morphing into rage.

"I'm not pushing you away—"

"You're so delusional—"

"What?" You scoffed, shaking your head and crossing your legs, leaning over to rest your elbows on your knees.

"Fine, well, regardless, you get all huffy and puffy when shit doesn't go your way but the minute I'm upset with something, suddenly it's 'you're overreacting' and 'why are you so upset', as if my feelings aren't as valid as yours."

Naoya paused, brow furrowed. Did he do that? He couldn't remember ever doing it, but he wasn't exactly reliable when it came to recollecting how he's hurt people. It really shouldn't have surprised him that he didn't remember anything you claimed he did. He slowly sat up, contemplating your accusations.

"I… I never said your feelings weren't valid."

"You didn't need to." Your voice was laced with venom, thick and wet and oh so sad. "It's how you act, Naoya. You're allowed to get angry or upset whenever you want, but when I do it…" You drifted off, letting the silence consume the two of you before shrugging hopelessly. "It feels like my feelings don't matter to you."

"What are you talking about?" he spoke softly, scooching closer to you. "Your feelings do matter—"

"Since when?" you snapped, whipping around to glare at him. "From the moment we met, you rarely considered my feelings on things." You held up your hand, hooking your index finger on your opposite pinky. "You insulted me for months, acting like the shittiest neighbor ever, making all kinds of noise. You basically forced yourself on me the first time we fucked, and after that you practically manipulated me into being friends with benefits." You lowered your hands as you turned away, picking at the skin around your nails as you continued. "Then once I finally think you're becoming a better person, you go back to being yourself once Toji shows up. And then you treat me like shit again and get upset when I don't want to be around you anymore. And then you force yourself onto me again. Do you see a pattern here?"

Yes, he did, but not because he wanted to. Have you always disapproved of his actions? Did you truly dislike how he's treated you? He knew he was crass and rude at times, but he thought you still accepted him at the end of the day. How blind he had been…

"I… I didn't…"

"Every time I think I'm done with you, you bring out the best in yourself and make me forgive you. You make me fall for you over and over again and it's making me nauseous." 

Now that… that caught his attention.

"You…" He paused, licking his lips. "You fell for me?" Silence again, absolutely deafening. 

"... Yeah. And I hate it." Fuck, that hurt to hear. You fiddled with your fingers, smoothing out the skin as you spoke. "I don't want to like you. You're such an asshole most of the time but then when we're alone you get all soft and sweet and make me feel like I'm the only girl in the world who matters. It's so fucking infuriating." Naoya scoffed, almost chuckling, moving to sit beside you as his knuckles brushed your arm. 

"Babe, you are the only girl in the world who matters to me—"

"See?" you snapped, yanking your arm out of his reach, making him flinch. "You're doing it again! Making me feel bad for ever disliking you and trying to win my favor…" Naoya opened his mouth to speak, soon closing it shut and biting his tongue. Silence settled over the two of you again, like a warm blanket, heavy and suffocating.

"I feel like," you started, wringing your hands, "like I'm the only one who's honest about their feelings. Like I'm the only one who says how they truly feel." He furrowed his brow, trying not to glare at you out of the corner of his eye.

"What are you implying?"  You huffed, turning back to him.

"Oh, come on, Naoya. You've hid your feelings long enough."

"What—"

He shut up when you grabbed your phone, watching curiously as you tapped away at it, increasing the volume. He blushed when he heard his voice ring out.

"Y/N! 'm sorry. Please don' hate me. I miss you, wantchu so bad. Please come back, I love you sho much. So shooo—"

"I—T-Turn that off!" he stuttered, reaching for your phone, attempting to pull it away and shut it off. You kept it out of his reach, getting up on your knees and holding your phone over his head.

"Why? This is how you really feel, right? Or were you lying last night to make me like you again—"

"I wasn't lying—"

"So you do like me?"

"I…"

Naoya curled in on himself, looking down at his hands. He rubbed his fingertips a bit, chewing his bottom lip incessantly. You waited patiently for him to continue, to give some kind of explanation for his behavior recently. Instead, he sighed loudly, mumbling a curse under his breath as he lowered himself to the bed, staring up at the ceiling. You relaxed, turning off the voicemail he sent you last night, sinking down to the bed with him. It felt oddly calming laying beside him like that. Despite your anger and frustration at his actions, it was still nice to be alone with him, to see him for who he truly was.

"You remember when you didn't talk to me for, like, two weeks? Back when Toji visited?" He glanced over at you, inhaling sharply when you nodded. He swallowed hard, tucking his chin to watch his hands fumble with each other. "Seeing you doing so well without me pissed me off. I wanted you to be miserable. I wanted you to be sad and angry. I wanted you to want me back, but… but you were fine." His hands squeezed each other hard, rubbing dangerously rough, almost cutting off circulation. "You didn't need me around. You didn't need me before we started fucking and you don't need me now. There's nothing keeping you with me. You're doing just fine on your own. I don't… I don't add anything to the relationship. I might as well be dead weight. You don't need me."

You scrunched your face up, propping your head up and resting your cheek against your palm.

"How long have you felt like this?" you whispered, feeling surprisingly tender considering who you were talking to.

"Since you ghosted me, when Toji was around." He clenched his jaw, looking back up at the ceiling. "And it… I mean, it hasn't gone away. I know you could ghost me again any day now. And I wouldn't blame you, I don't think. You'd be better off without me." You frowned. Where was this coming from? Was this really the narcissist that acted all lovey-dovey and then left you hanging so many times? It felt so unlike him, so raw and open. You weren't sure how you felt about it yet.

"Why do you say that?" you asked quietly.

"Oh, come on, Y/N," he practically groaned, looking at you before motioning towards himself. "Look at me. I'm a spoiled rich kid, I've never had to work a day in my life. My only redeeming quality is my money and even then that doesn't fix every situation… I know you feel the same."

"Naoya, I—"

"I don't blame you. I mean," he sighed loudly, running a hand over his face, "it fucking sucks, but it's not like you're wrong for thinking that. If I died today, it's not like it would change anything. The world would keep spinning, my family would be fine. You'd be fine. But just the thought of you not talking to me anymore makes me wish I was dead. If you were gone forever? Shit, I don't know what I'd do. Probably become an alcoholic like my dad. Who knows?"

You could feel your heart breaking, the sharp pang of sorrow flowing through you. This wasn't the Naoya you had met so many months ago, who had insulted you and made you feel worthless. You were hesitant to say that this was the real Naoya, the one whose walls were broken down and he was laid bare, unprotected and vulnerable. Raw, pure, honest.

"Naoya… I had no idea you felt this way…" He shrugged.

"You shouldn't have to. It's not your fault. I'm just stupid and selfish—"

"Hey—"

"—honestly, sometimes I think everyone would be better off without me—"

"Stop."

Your hand found his chest, pressing down, urging him to stop. He tensed under your touch, but he didn't try to push you away. He sniffed, clearing his throat, a single tear falling past his lashes and moving down his temple. If you hadn't been staring, you would've never noticed it. You laid down beside him again, your hand beginning to draw circles on his sternum. 

"Is this really how you feel?"

"... yeah…"

"Why didn't you ever tell me?"

"I… I don't know. I thought you might come to your senses and leave me sooner." You sighed, resting your cheek against his shoulder, frustrated in a dozen different ways.

"We could've talked about this, Naoya."

"Yeah, yeah, I know, I just… I don't know." You gave a half smile at his awkward wording, tapping his chest lightly.

"You're not very good at communicating your feelings." Naoya scoffed, his arm slipping around you, gentle but secure. You didn't push him away, feeling strangely safe under his sturdy limb.

"Yeah, well, it's not like I got any practice as a kid." You hummed.

"Was your childhood really that bad?"

"No… I mean…" Naoya sighed, his hand beginning to rub circles on your back, soft and soothing. "I got everything I wanted. I didn't have to worry about the same shit as other kids, but I never had a mom and my dad was never around. I was pretty much raised by tutors and governesses and shit."

No mother? You propped yourself up just a bit, tucking your chin into his chest, gazing at him curiously.

"What happened to your mom?" He shrugged, the motion making you shift a bit, but his arm kept you securely against him. You were surprised that you found it comfortable.

"I don't know. She left when I was a baby, when I was less than a year old. She wasn't happy with her life and so she just got up and left one day. I don't remember anything about her. Apparently I have her eyes."

She must have had very pretty eyes, is what you instinctually wanted to say, but you kept your lips pursed together, absorbing his words.

"...I'm sorry you had to go through that, Naoya." Another shrug, a lopsided smile to try and ease your worries.

"Eh… it's whatever. I've been over it for years."

A lull fell over the two of you, weighing you down. It wasn't uncomfortable like it was before, at least not to you. Your mind was racing with the information Naoya had just disclosed to you. His past didn't excuse his actions, but it explained it a bit. It made sense that he was closed off and defensive, the fear of abandonment settled deep within his amygdala, dictating his actions before he could even process the situation he was in. It was a natural fight or flight response: he'd been so used to fighting that his normal response to anything was to act defensive. At least then he could try and avoid being hurt.

"Look… if you're gonna leave me, please just rip the bandaid off now and—"

"Shhhh." Your head found his chest, cheek squished against his bicep as you tried to think. Naoya hurt you, as he did many times, and he apologized just like he had all those other times in the past. You knew he could very well hurt you again—that's what his pattern of behavior was suggesting. You knew that he could very likely make you cry and feel miserable, treat you like shit, beat you down again and again until you were a shell of your former self.

You should break up with him for good. You should leave him. This is what he deserves. He deserves to be miserable. He deserves to feel like shit. He's an awful human being and he doesn't deserve to be happy. He doesn't deserve you.

And yet…

"Are you sorry for all the times you've ever hurt me?" you asked, breaking the silence between you.

"Yes," Naoya replied instantly, his arm holding you close, snuggling you to him. You lifted your head, staring at him intensely, making him wince under your gaze.

"Are you really sorry?"

"...Yes." Your eyes narrowed.

"You hesitated."

"Well, shit, I'm just trying to figure out where you're gonna go with this. Like, what's the point—"

"Shush." He quieted, watching you sit up beside him. You glanced at a random point in the room, looking back at him seriously.

"If you admit that you love me, I'll accept your apology."

Oh, that got his attention. Naoya perked up far more than you anticipated, his skeptical scowl disappearing as he propped himself on his elbows.

"Really? You mean it?" he asked, his voice light and hopeful. It made your stomach flip in the best way. Damn him for being so cute.

"Yeah, I do." Naoya paused, licking his lips as he silently weighed his options. He chewed his bottom lip for a moment, his face getting redder the longer time passed. He suddenly cleared his throat, lifting his gaze so he could look at you.

"I… I, um… I love you…" You leaned towards him, tilting your head.

"And you mean it?"

"Yes."

"With your whole heart?"

"Yes." Your heart started to pound, that familiar lightheadedness from the beginning of your relationship rearing its head.

"You're sure—" Naoya groaned, rolling his eyes.

"Jesus, yes! Yes, I mean it."

He was frustrated, clearly, but that blush was still there, pink cheeks glowing under the soft light of the bedside lamp. You let his words settle in the air, a hint of a smile playing at your lips as a thought developed in your brilliant brain.

"Hmm… say it again." He blinked owlishly.

"Huh?"

"Say you love me again." He blushed harder, his face turning scarlet, creeping down towards his neck and the tips of his ears.

"Jeez, seriously, Y/N?"

"Mm-hm." You leaned further towards him, foreheads almost touching, forcing him to look at you. "I won't accept your apology unless you do."

"Jeez…" His face was a beautiful crimson, reminding you of fresh strawberries. You would've bitten into him if you weren't trying to teach him a lesson. "I… I love you." The words came out soft, anxious, nervous that you would reject him anyways. You hummed, looking up at the ceiling, pretending to think for a moment.

"Alright. I accept your apology." Naoya exhaled loudly, body relaxing as he felt victory overcome him.

"Finally—"

"But!" you interrupted, raising your finger and tapping his nose. "That doesn't mean I forgive you." Shock, disbelief, then agitation.

"What?! Why not?"

"I just don't. I won't forgive you unless you tell me that you love me more." Naoya groaned, falling back onto the sheets.

"Jesus fucking Christ—"

"Come on, Naoya," you cooed, swinging your leg over his hips, straddling him. He watched with wide eyes as you pressed yourself into his chest, cutely pouting down at him. "Don't you love me, bubby? Don't you wanna make me happy?" The nickname was what really made him flustered, his cock stirring at the feeling of your body pushed into his. He swallowed his arousal, trying his best to scowl at you.

"You're insufferable—"

"But you love me—"

"Jeez, yes!" he practically shouted, hands cupping your cheeks and forcing the two of you to keep eye contact. "Yes, I love you. I love you, okay?" His words made you quiver, a shiver rolling down your back and through your limbs as his words settled in. He sighed as he let you go, slumping back into the bed. "Are we done? Are you happy?"

"Hmmm… I guess so… but—" You wiggled your hips against him, making him sputter as you rubbed against his growing erection. "—just because I forgive you doesn't mean I'll keep dating you."

"Y/N, I swear to God, if you keep—"

You cut him off with a kiss, soft lips pressing into him as his words died out. He moaned quietly, arms wrapping around you and holding you snuggly against him. You could feel any anger left inside you fizzling out, the only heat left behind emanating from your core. You pulled away when he licked at his lips, leaving him hazy and disappointed that he couldn't deepen the kiss. You cupped his face, stroking his cheeks with your thumbs.

"Tell me you love me one more time and I'll stay." You saw his eyes glimmer with hope, and it shouldn't have made you as happy as it did. His hand found yours, squeezing it tight, worried you would disappear.

"You mean it? You won't go?"

"No, I won't, but only if you say it—"

"I love you," he said without hesitation, eyes sincere as he pressed his forehead to yours, noses kissing. "I love you so much, Y/N… please don't go…" It felt good to see him like this, desperate for you and your love. You wanted to see more of him like this in the future; you wanted to break down those walls completely so that this was the only part of him left.

"Alright, I guess I'll stay," you teased, arms slipping around his neck, "but only because it's too hard starting a new relationship." Naoya rolled his eyes, but he couldn't hide the grateful smile on his face.

"You're the most annoying woman I've ever met." You giggled, brushing your nose against his.

"But you still love me." You heard a vague 'shut up' as he pressed his lips back into yours, kissing you tenderly, lovingly. He rarely gave these kinds of kisses, usually hungry or holding back just a bit, but you were glad to find that he was relaxing with you, as if he finally felt safe with you. You sucked his bottom lip lightly, making him sigh and pull back, brushing your cheek as he gazed deeply into your eyes.

"I'm really sorry, Y/N." You could hear the sorrow laced in his tone, not completely obvious but still there. You sighed, giving a small peck to the side of his mouth.

"I know." He huffed, squeezing your waist.

"I'm serious," he insisted, hugging you tighter. You hummed, pushing yourself up to get a better look at him.

"Yeah?" you chirped, hands running over his pecks. You ground your hips down on him, smiling when you heard the strangled groan he let out. "Then prove it. Show me how sorry you are."

You heard him sigh shakily before he sat up, capturing your lips with his. His hands found the pulp of your waist, squeezing a bit too hard. Maybe he didn't believe this was really happening, maybe he was trying to ground himself back to reality so he could accept that you were here with him. Whatever it was, it didn't faze him for long. His hands were already crawling up your nightshirt, palms flattening against your soft stomach.

"I missed you," he mumbled against your lips, kneading your flesh as he climbed up your torso. "Missed you so much."

"It was—ah—it wasn't even a whole day—"

"I don't care," he breathed, sighing shakily when he cupped your breasts and gave them a squeeze. "I thought—shit—thought I would never see you again. Thought you'd disappear on me and move away or somethin." You couldn't stop yourself from snickering, hands tangling in his hair.

"Oh my god, Naoya, it wasn't even a few hours—"

"You say that like it matters." He tugged up your shirt, tucking it over your breasts and cursing silently. "I get upset when you're gone for twenty minutes."

"Do you—ah!" He took a nipple in his mouth, sucking feverishly as he fondled the other, hurried and anxious. "Do… Do you really mean that?" you breathed.

"Yeah," he sighed, tongue swirling around your hardened nipple before taking it in his mouth again. He sucked it a moment longer before releasing it with a wet pop. "I hate how much I miss you. Makes me feel like a sissy."

"But it's cute," you whined, guiding him to the other nipple, gasping when he nibbled at the soft bud. "I like hearing you say those things. Wish you'd be more honest with me." He scoffed against your skin, pulling back to gaze up at you, a trail of spit left behind.

"You're just teasin' me—"

"I'm not," you insisted, grinding against him needily, panting already. "I wanna hear those things. I wanna know how much you like me. It makes me feel special." Naoya paused, licking at his lips as he mindlessly played with your tits.

"Yeah? You… you like when I talk about this stuff?"

"Mm-hm." You pulled away just to tug your shirt over your head and toss it aside, pressing your bare chest against him. You slipped a hand between the two of you, grinding your palm into his cock, making him hiss in a breath. "Tell me more."

"Shit." Naoya guided you to sit flush against his thigh, urging you to grind your hips against his leg. "I-I think about you all the time, ya know that? It feels like—oh God—like I'm going crazy."

"Yeah? Whaddya think about?"

"Fuck, I—I don't know. Anything, everything. You're so pretty I wanna throw up. Your eyes, your hair, your lips—fuck, I love your lips—" His hand snuck down into your shorts, breath hitching when he discovered that you weren't wearing underwear.

"That all? You only think about how I look?"

"No, I—fuck—I-I think about all of you. How smart you are, how you make me laugh—you're so nice, ya know that? Do you have any idea how sweet you are? God, I feel like I could get a fuckin cavity just thinkin bout you." He cursed when you whined, gawking at how your hips bucked into his hand, begging for more.

"More, t-tell me more, baby."

"Shit, uh—" Naoya struggled to come up with something to say, too focused on how this was getting you off, how just his words alone were making your cunt weep into his hand. "I-I hate when other people look at ya. I hate when they talk about you or eye you up, especially when I'm right there. Makes me wanna fuck you right in front of em, let em know that you're all mine, nobody else's—fuck, c'mere—" He grabbed the back of your neck, smashing his lips into yours and moaning loudly. You keened, arching your body into him, hopelessly humping his hand and grinding your clit against his palm. You could already feel your orgasm building, that delicious heat coursing through your veins coming straight from your cunt. You probably could cum from this alone, but Naoya pulled his hand away before you could attempt to do that. You whined when he let you go.

"Shh, don't worry, princess. I'm gonna take care of ya." He tugged roughly at your shorts, almost throwing you off of him trying to get them off. He squeezed your thighs once he tossed the shorts to the floor, falling back to the bed and pulling on your hips. "C'mon. Want you to sit on my face." You froze, blinking down at him.

"Your… your face?" Naoya hummed in confirmation, trying to guide you up his chest again, but you didn't budge. "I—w-wait, we've never—I-I've never—"

"Never what?" he almost snapped, clearly impatient to get you on top of him. He watched you sputter, hands wringing each other, eyes looking anywhere but at him. He blinked, staring at you for a moment before his eyes narrowed. "You've never—have you ever sat on someone's face, baby?" You felt your cheeks burn hot, body curling in on itself, desperate to hide.

"I… I mean…" You couldn't come up with an answer, and Naoya groaned after a moment.

"You've never sat on anyone's face, baby? Am I the first one?" You huffed, covering your face with your hands, struggling to hide your embarrassment. It felt worse when Naoya practically moaned at your flustered state, grabbing you and forcing you to move up his body. "Fuck, that's so hot, so fucking hot. Gonna be the first one to have you like this, the only one, shit—"

"Naoya, w-wait, hold on—"

"Don't make me wait, baby, I'm so fucking hard right now. Just wanna taste ya, just want you on my face, c'mon—" You tried to reason, to put some distance between you so you could talk about this, but all you could do was gasp as he kissed up your thighs and nosed your clit. Your breath hitched when he moaned beneath you, tongue darting out to lick you from entrance to clit, sucking the hardening bud into his mouth.

"Mmm, fuck, baby," he groaned, pulling back to gaze up at you. "Taste so good, ya know that?" You squeaked, covering your face with your hands.

"Shut up. You're embarrassing."

"C'mon, princess." He pressed a kiss to your upper pussy, nuzzling the fatty mass, smirking into your skin. "You were so eager about me talking earlier, but now you're actin all shy? What happened?"

"That—you weren't in this position before—"

"And? You look better from this angle, anyways—"

"Naoya—"

"—but it'd be a lot better if you weren't hovering." You tensed, glancing at him from between your fingers.

"I… I'm not hovering."

"Oh yeah? Then how come I gotta crane my neck just to taste you? Gonna have to go to the chiropractor if you keep this up."

"Naoya!"

"Aw, c'mon, baby." His hands ran up your sides, squeezing your tits momentarily before pulling your hands away from your face. "You know I'm only teasin' ya, but I'm serious. When I tell ya to sit on my face, I mean—" He tugged your hips down suddenly, making you lose balance and land flush against him. "—sit on my face."

The whine that left you was so pornagraphic, needy and lewd, making Naoya groan in response. He didn't waste any time, flattening his tongue against your chubby pussy lips, slipping past them to lap at your clit. You mewled, breath hitching, hips trembling, struggling not to dart away from his touch. It's not like you really could if you tried: Naoya had a death grip on your waist, forcing you to stay planted on his face.

"Tastiest—fuck—pussy ever," he groaned, his words mumbled into your cunt. His eyes bore into you, fierce and hungry. "Never gonna get over how good you taste. Don't wanna taste anybody's pussy for the rest of my life but my girl's."

"Y-Yeah?"

"Yeah." His tongue pushed into your entrance and wiggled around, strong hands keeping you from squirming out of his grasp. The slurping sounds he made were absolutely obscene—you'd be mortified if anyone could hear the two of you. It was all so overwhelming—his tongue, his strong grip, the way his nose kept bumping on your clit—that you couldn't take much more attention. You hiccupped as you grasped at his hair, tugging harshly so he released your clit from his swollen lips.

"Shit—what—"

"I need your dick," you interrupted, hoping he couldn't hear the waver in your voice. His pupils widened, but his brows were still furrowed as he licked his lips.

"I'm not done yet—"

"Pleeeeaase, Naoya," you whined, grazing your fingernails along his scalp, making him shiver. "I'm tired of waiting. Want it now." His cheeks turned scarlet, mouth quirking into a smile. You knew just what to say to get your way.

"Oh yeah? You want this fat cock, baby? Want me to stuff you full?"

"Mm-hm," you agreed in a high pitched tone, lip jutted out as you nodded. "Want you deep inside me, baby. Wanna feel you in my tummy."

"Fuck." Naoya dove back into your cunt, sucking your clit hard for a few more seconds before letting go, loosening his grip on you. "Lay down for me, baby. Gonna make you feel so good." You flopped onto the bed quickly, grateful that you wouldn't have to stay in such a compromising position any longer.

Naoya hurriedly pulled his shirt over his head, tossing it onto the floor before moving onto his shorts. He struggled to shimmy them off, eventually kicking them to the floor before sighing with relief. He turned on his side, grabbing your hips and turning you to face him.

"Lay on your side, like this. And—" he grabbed your thigh, lifting your leg and draping it over his waist, "—keep your leg up here." You scoffed, surveying the position he had you in.

"What're you up to?"

"The fuck you mean?" He hooked your knee over his elbow, grabbing his cock and running the head through your folds, hissing at how warm you were compared to him.

"I mean… w-why are we like this? Like what's with this position?" 

"What's wrong? Can't a guy try new positions?" He aligned himself with your entrance, pushing in slowly, sighing shakily as he moved forward.

"I-I guess, but—ah—it's just so random, y'know?"

"It's not random, I—" His hips met yours and he huffed, his breath hitting your face, eyes unable to meet yours. "I just… I dunno, I just wanna do it like this, okay? Wanna be… romantic or whatever. Wanna make love to you." You could feel your heart pound in your chest, eyes searching his crimson face, waiting for the punchline. When none came, you cupped his cheeks, making him look at you.

"Then go on. Make love to me."

That was all he needed. He pulled back slowly, rocking his hips forward, trying to keep his breathing steady as he got used to the feel of you. In truth, he'd never get used to you. Your cunt was always so soft and inviting, warm and wet and molded to his shape. It was like putting on a glove that felt like a second skin, like it belonged there, like there was no reason for it to be removed ever again. He wished he could stay inside you like that forever, keeping himself warm in your perfect pussy. He didn't even need to cum, didn't even need to be hard: he just wanted to be connected to you like that, so close together that you could crawl into each other's skin.

God, he sounded like such a simp.

"Mmm." Your soft moan broke him out of his trance, eyes flickering over your face, taking you in. Eyes hooded, lip bitten between your teeth—you were a vision. "It feels good, Naoya."

"Y-Yeah?" he replied, suddenly nervous, eager to please. "You… You like when I go slow?"

"Mm-hmm," you moaned, leaning forward to capture his lips with yours. He sighed dreamily into the kiss, eyes crossing ever so slightly when you sucked on his bottom lip. He swallowed a groan, struggling to slip his hand between the two of you and keep thrusting languidly at the same time.

"Mmm—f-feel so good, princess," he hummed, searching for your clit. You keened when his thumb brushed over it and he slowed his movements, focusing on the sensitive spot. His thrusts turned shallow, the head of his cock dragging over that spongy mass inside you, hitting it with just the right amount of pressure over and over.

"Shit, Naoya! Fuck, j-just like that, baby. Just—oooh—just like that." Your hips twitched, soon grinding forward towards him, meeting his thrusts. Your gyrating only increased your pleasure, fingers carding through his hair, tugging at the base. You giggled when you earned a groan in response, gasping when he bucked into you hard, still slow but suddenly forceful.

"Fuck—n-need you to cum, baby. Need to feel you cum on my cock."

"Yeah? You close already?" you teased, prepared for him to bark something back at you. But he didn't do that: instead, he just bit down on his lip, eyebrows furrowed as his hand sped up, concentrating on getting you to cum first. "Ahh—o-oh my god, you are—"

"Sh-Shut up, okay? Can't—fuck—can't help it, alright?" You moaned louder, wrapping your arms around his neck and bucking your hips into him faster.

"Fuck, that's so hot, baby. You gonna cum in me? Hm? Wanna cum inside your girlfriend?" You felt his cock throb at that, Naoya's hips stuttering at your words.

"Shit—d-don't say that—"

"Why not, babe? Does hearing me say stuff like that make you wanna cum?"

"You can't just—oof!" You suddenly pushed him onto his back, following him and landing on his chest. He was still inside you as you sat up, eyes wide as you continued grinding into him without a care in the world.

"C'mon, Naoya. Cum for me. Wanna feel you fill me up when I cum." Naoya swallowed hard but nodded, fingers frantically rubbing your clit as you thrust your hips into his. Your movements allowed you to keep hitting your g-spot, sending sparks through you as you chased your high.

"Shit—babe—this was supposed to be about you—" Your moan cut him off, eyes flittering over your hunched frame. The sun was starting to rise, the bright rays beaming in through the curtains. You looked like an angel in the growing golden light, your sweaty skin glowing. You were panting above him, moans and gasps growing in pitch by the second, your hips moving faster, more desperately until—

"Oh fuck!" you whined, head tossed back as you came. Your cunt pulsated around him, squeezing him so tight he thought he would pass out. He was already close before, but feeling you cum around him was sending him straight for the edge. Just a few more thrusts and—

"Shit—I-I love you, Naoya."

It felt like he had been punched in the gut. His body caved in on itself as the air left his lungs. He gasped, desperate for air as his balls emptied inside you. He grabbed your hips, urging you to keep grinding yourself on his cock, helping him ride out his high.

"Jesus fuck—ohmygod, fuck, baby, love you, I love you, love youuu—"

You stared in awe as he shuddered beneath you, eyes squeezed shut, teeth gritted shut as he choked on his groans. You slowed your hips, your orgasm fading as he started coming down from his peak. He was panting heavily, lips bitten raw, body flushed from exertion. You smoothed your hands over his chest, coaxing him to breathe steadily and calm down.

"Holy—sh-shit—I—"

You shushed him, leaning down to kiss him tenderly. He returned your kiss happily, sighing as your lips melded together. His hands moved to cup your cheeks, large palms cradling your face as he kissed you. Your hearts began to settle as you peppered kisses over each other, soft chaste pecks that you thought only existed in movies. Naoya slumped back to the bed, sighing and wrapping his arms around you, pulling you down to your side with him.

"Jesus," he mumbled, nosing at your hair lovingly. "Don't think I've ever cum that hard before." You giggled, nuzzling into his neck.

"Or that fast—"

"Hey," he said sternly, giving your thigh a light slap as a warning. "Ain't my fault."

"Hmm. My pussy's just too good, huh?" Another slap, this time to your ass, making you jolt and laugh louder.

"You're such a smartass. You're lucky I love you or else I'd make you sleep on the floor." You let out an exaggerated gasp, pulling back, pretending to be shocked.

"Rude! I'm an angel and you know it." He merely rolled his eyes, kissing you for the thousandth time that morning. You welcomed it, legs wrapping around him, tangling themselves with his own limbs. Naoya released your lips, keeping his face close, breathing shallowly.

"Can you say it back?" You blinked.

"Say what back?" He huffed, squeezing his arms around you tighter.

"You know…" You stared at him as his cheeks turned a rosy pink, realization dawning on you with each passing moment. You kissed his nose, pressing your forehead to his, hands cradling his head and neck.

"I love you too, Naoya." He relaxed with that, sighing and burying himself into your chest. You pet his hair, chin tucked on top of his head, your breaths synchronizing as time passed.

"I'm sorry," he mumbled a little while later, barely a whisper. His voice was surprisingly fragile, as if he could fall apart at any moment, as if he still didn't believe you forgave him.

"I know," you whispered back, pressing a kiss to the top of his head. You didn't point out how he inhaled shakily or how his arms tightened their hold around you. You just laid there with him, warming his cock and combing your fingers through his hair. "I know."

"You got everything?" You hummed in acknowledgement, nodding your head. Naoya arched his brow, staring down at you. "You sure? Once we leave, we're not coming back."

"I'm sure, Naoya. Do you have everything?"

"Yes."

"You're sure?" Your tone made him pause, his brow furrowing as he glanced around the room. He couldn't find anything, so he pat his pockets, frowning after a moment. He opened his mouth to speak, closing it once you raised your hand and presented his phone.

"You minx," he snarled lightheartedly, snatching his phone from you and shoving it in his back pocket. "What else did you steal from me?"

"I didn't steal anything, bubby. I grabbed it so you wouldn't forget it."

"Yeah, whatever. You ready to go or what?" You giggled and nodded, taking his outstretched hand and following him out of the suite and down the hall. The elevator ride was fairly quiet, three other people joining you on the ride down. The two of you stayed at the back, hands intertwined, Naoya's thumb rubbing into you, grounding himself. He hesitated once you got to the lobby, but after a quick glance out of the elevator—confirming his father wasn't there—he walked out with you, hand in hand. You were almost at the exit when he slowed down, squeezing your hand to get your attention.

"I gotta do something real quick. Wait here."

"Wha—" Naoya put down his suitcase quickly, walking off to a nearby seating area in the lobby. You stared curiously as he walked up to someone sitting down. Once she turned around, you realized that it was Keiya. You watched as he bowed to her, staying still for a few moments. You couldn't see their expressions very well from where you were, and you definitely couldn't hear them, so your curiosity began to eat away at you. You waited patiently, only left alone for a minute or two before Naoya bowed again, walking back to you with his hands in his pockets. He reached you soon enough, grabbing his suitcase before taking your hand, guiding you out of the building.

"What was that all about?" you asked as soon as the doors behind you closed. He seemed to have not heard you so you shook his arm, grabbing his attention.

"Hm? Oh! It—um—it was nothing."

"Come on, Naoya," you huffed, pushing yourself into his side. "We need to start communicating better. How else are we gonna build a healthy relationship?" Naoya scoffed, rolling his eyes, but he couldn't say no when you pouted like that.

"Fine… I was…" He took a deep breath, avoiding your gaze. "I apologized for how I acted yesterday… and how I've acted in the past… That was all."

Something bloomed inside you—hope, perhaps?—and you grinned wide, hugging his arm tightly.

"Aww, Naoya! That's so mature of you! Who knew you could apologize without being forced to?"

"Oh, shut up—"

"No, I'm serious! I'm very proud of you, bub! So proud of my handsome boyfriend." He huffed but his face burned just a bit, his cheeks bright.

"Jeez, calm down. How do you have so much energy? We've been up since, like, five." You shrugged, releasing his arm just to take his hand again, swinging your arms lazily as you waited for a cab to pick you up to take you to the airport. Naoya stared at you from the corner of his eye for a bit, quietly bringing your hand to his mouth and kissing the back of it. You glanced at him, giving him a sweet smile, the kind that always made him melt.

"...I love you," he mumbled quietly, hesitantly, the words still a bit foreign on his tongue. Your smile grew and you leaned in towards him, kissing him on the cheek.

"Love you too, Naoya."

[seakicker-deactivated20260416]

Found the sexiest concept in an old fic from a diff fandom but my god I have to share this with you:

A hexed fleshlight. Anything out inside will give your own pussy the same sensations, and you don’t know why or who’s doing it. Imagine if childe got a hold of this fleshlight like omg—

It was a gift for him, wrapped up all neatly on his doorstep. It’s gotta be from the fatui, no doubt, but when he opens it, he immediately thinks it’s a prank and that he should throw it away. But damn, it looks like such a nice quality, and his old pocket pussy ought to be retired by now…what’s the harm? He’s careful in inspecting it, but he’s soon satisfied with a lack of any pepper spray inside or some fluid that could hold a disease. Still, he chooses to use a condom the first time, just in case.

When Childe enters the toy for the first time, a moan is almost immediately ripped out of him. Archons, he thought the fleshlight looked a little small for his huge length, but he’s quickly proven otherwise. The fleshlight almost seems to pulse around him, sucking him deeper, squeezing him tightly. Fuck, he could easily get addicted to this.

He holds nothing back as he pounds into the toy, grasping it so tight his knuckles turn white. His moans and grunts fill the air as he fucks and ducks and ducks into the toy, this toy that seems MADE for him, DESTINED for him, so tight and perfect he could almost imagine it being a real cunt. He cums embarrassingly fast, making quick work of getting rid of his used condom so he could inspect the fleshlight one last time. No…it didn’t look like it had any extra mechanics to it…but then he sees it. Softly glowing runes that brighten as he wriggles a finger inside. Ahh…looks like this toy has a spell over it, something that makes it feel just like a real pussy. Childe smirked at this revelation as he put away the toy, making a mental note to find and thank whoever gave it to him. He peacefully passed out later, blissfully unaware of its effect on you….

Imagine being at work, praying the minutes to go faster as you desperately want to clock out and go home already..! Five more minutes left to your shift, but a strange sensation fills your stomach with butterflies…something prodding at your hole, pushing open your folds and shallowly dipping into you, exploring your insides as you let out soft gasps and moans. What the hell? Is this a weird prank? You quickly glance around, stomach dropping when you realized no body was near you, or looking at you…

Your thighs squeeze reflexively as you feel calloused fingers push deeper and deeper inside, prodding at your cervix before massaging your g-spot. It’s difficult to hold back a keen, eyes rolling back in your head from this unprecedented pleasure. But as soon as it was there, it was gone. These phantom fingers were no longer playing with you and…damn! Still a minute left…well, how much trouble can you really get for leaving a little early?

You ready your things, prepared to get out of there and make a doctor’s appointment as soon as possible. Who the hell has ever heard of anything like this before? Strange, phantom pleasures of being fingered? What?

You’re barely out the door when you freeze in your tracks. Something much…larger…was now pushing into your hole. No, no, no! First these fingers, and now, a cock? Your tear filled eyes whip around, searching for a bathroom to lock yourself in. Surely enough, you find yourself squeezed into a stall, hands clamped around your mouth, trying your hardest to hold back moans and cries. You’re fucked so roughly by this fat, long cock. Each trust has you shaking, hands grasping for a hold as your legs lose their strength. Your walls flutter and clench on this invisible dick that ravishes your plush walls, ticking you so hard and fast you think you might just pass out. Despite its pulsing veins and intense pace, this…person…has no interest in your pleasure. Each rough thrust knocks against your cervix, stretching you out and leaving you screaming. It’s as if you’re being used as a toy. Just some inanimate piece of plastic for somebody to fuck until you’re both senseless.

When it’s done, you’re a mess. Chest heaving, flyaways sticking to your sweaty face. It’s crazy…sick, even, but as you stand up with trembling legs, you quietly hope this all happens again (and soon).

Don’t worry, it will ofc ;;)))) I bet if childe doesn’t use a condom his cum would be immediately absorbed and spit into your pussy too <3333 even better, what if a miscalculation occurs so that whenever childe cums all the cum is doubled or even tripled on the way to you? Ugh I just wanna be filled up to the brim with his cum is that too much to ask??? Yeah but anyways he would def become obsessed with that fleshlight and you’d be a mess every day because of it <333

—⌚️

WAIT WAIT WAIIIIIT HOLD THE PHONE BECAUSE THIS IS SO FUCKING GOOD... ⌚️ ANON DOES IT AGAIN

i think my favorite idea from all of this is the fact that childe would never be able to reasonably deduce that the toy is "connected" to someone else's body— who ever heard of such a thing? a fleshlight that's essentially connected via bluetooth to a real person's pussy?

yeah, right. as far as childe's concerned, it's just a little spell to make the toy feel more "lifelike," if you will— a little enhancement to take it from lifeless plastic to realistic pussy. he almost wants to say that he doesn't care about the specifics; why worry about the spell and any potential consequences when (a) he's already carefully inspected the toy and found nothing wrong with it and (b) it feels so damn good? it's easy to throw caution to the wind when you're enjoying something so much. as a result, he ends up using it whenever he wants and however he wants, regardless of where you are or what you're doing because, as far as he knows, you don't even exist, right?

alright, that's actually probably my second favorite idea, but it connects to my first favorite so it all counts. besides, this whole ask is My Favorite Idea, really. anyways, because childe is blissfully unaware of the fact that his new favorite toy is connected to you, he just goes at it basically whenever and without a single care as to what you may be doing. you could be at work like you were the very first night you experienced the, ah... sensation, you could be in class, you could be with people, you could be alone (if only you could be so lucky), and it'd all be the same to childe, who's just excited to get off after a long, long day of work. sure, some occasions are more... convenient for you than others, but you're always happy whenever it begins all the same.

it doesn't really matter to you that whoever's behind this... arrangement cares little for your pleasure because you still manage to find pleasure amidst it all anyway. maybe it's the simple principle of being used like a toy that gets you going— you're always fucked absolutely senseless by this foreign sensation until you feel your own juices drip down your thighs, pounded so utterly mindless you can hardly manage a word by the time it all fades away (a little too soon, if you're being honest). what i'm trying to say is that the absolute best part about this arrangement is the idea that you're totally and completely powerless to delay it or stop it; whenever it starts, you just have to try to enjoy yourself as much as you can regardless of where you are, what you're doing, or who you're with. sometimes you're lucky enough to be able to slink away to a bathroom or a closet, other times it becomes a test of will to see how well you can control yourself at work in front of customers or in class in front of your classmates.

hopefully nobody sees the large cum stain between your thighs when you stand up... this mystery sensation always leaves such a mess.

[satorhime]

on the ground ˚₊· gojo satoru + nanami kento. ── ◜ ⪩⪨ ◞

── ◜ ⪩⪨ ◞ content : : f!reader, explicit smut, threesome + cuckholding, reader n gojo r in an established relationship, public foreplay (on an empty train), oral sex (m + f receiving), face sitting, spanking, degradation, teasing, praise, fingering, handjobs, double penetration (sort of), unprotected sex, size kink, creampie, cum play, squirting, snowballing, messy nasty smut w / lots of pet names lol ･｡･ w.c. 15.6k.

── ◜ ⪩⪨ ◞ synopsis & notes : nanami is awarded his apology, and more. part two of off the table, but can be read as a standalone. + ໒꒰ྀི ⸝⸝⸝⸝ ꒱ྀིა ⊹ omg omg i finally, FINALLY completed this fic. i struggled a lot with the direction i wanted this story to go in, but i'm finally satisfied and can share it with everyone. i hope you enjoy it & expect errors because it's an absolute chunk of words. thank u 2 @fushisslut for beta reading <333

nanami kento is out of his mind. 

you see, he must be. that’s the only reasonable explanation for his behavior tonight. when people perceive him, they see him as a stable man with a level head on his shoulders. they take in the pristine cut of his designer suits, the glimmer of his luxury wristwatch, and they can’t help but see the prime example of a professional jujutsu sorcerer. his technique isn’t a lightshow to impress others, but consists of preordained, calculated mathematics for him to achieve the best results in a fight. even the higher ups trust him more because they’re soothed by his polite speech, strategic outlook, and solid reliability— because he can be summed up into one safe, khaki-colored box that will never pose a threat to their way of order, even if he disagrees with it. 

normal. standard. boring. 

but every sorcerer has a flaw, a trigger nestled deep inside of them just waiting to spring them into insanity. it can be anything, really— a fight with a formidable opponent or your favorite coffee shop getting your morning order wrong on a bad day. nanami’s own flaw is a crack in the perfect design of his foundation that can be exploited way too easily if you know where to look for it. 

and gojo satoru knows the exact location. 

while nanami has tried his best to ignore the tension crackling like a steady current between you and him, satoru sees everything. his crush on you is obvious though. written all over his handsome expression when you simply smile at him or your shoulders brush in a crowded meeting room and nanami makes the mistake of looking down to snap at you to give him space, only to be enraptured by the sight of your pretty face and lower, the print of your cute little nipples pressing through the thinner fabric of your tight sorcerer’s uniform. his ears pinkening up like strawberry syrup swirled on top of milk. 

the fact that he jolts awake almost every night from wet dreams about you, cock dripping wet in his briefs can’t be written on his face, but it happens. making him feel adolescent, green as fresh grass, when he has to slip a hand into his underwear and fuck against his dry palm with your name whispered desperately on his tongue until he cums, messy and full of shame, all over his belly. 

nanami kento’s weakness is a woman off limits. 

perhaps gojo should feel possessive and territorial that another man has such blatant feelings for his pretty girlfriend, but gojo feeds it like cupid with a heart-shaped arrow. only feeling like a winner in the long game he plays. and tonight, well, tonight is living proof of that. 

right now, you’re strolling ahead of nanami with gojo’s long arm thrown lazily around your shoulders. the three of you are heading leisurely towards the train station, as if you’re like everyone else out on a weekend night— casual colleagues walking home together after a boring company outing.

the city at this hour is alive, a kaleidoscope of movement and bright, twinkling energy. usually, nanami would enjoy a walk like this under the starlit night, tilt his head up and inhale the fresh breeze as he walks the long way home to unwind after a long shift but he just can’t, not tonight. not when he’s strung out and so fucking hyperfocused on your every move. not when the noise from the neon billboards flash loud advertisements, bustling shopfronts, and drunken giggles from twenty-somethings stumbling out of upscale bars washes away all rational thought from nanami’s skull until all he can think about is you.

it’s humiliating. his self-control over his own actions is usually adamant, an indomitable shell around his being that should have kept him from giving in to his desire to fuck all traces of gojo satoru from your body, but how can he really resist it? he should have known better than to get up from that table and follow the two of you home, but it’s too late to turn back now. especially when the colorful streetlights illuminate your frame to him, the late night breeze stirring the flowy hem of your expensive little cocktail dress— giving him a flash of the supple swell of your naked ass cheeks, panties still tucked away in gojo’s pocket. 

gritting his teeth, nanami tries to look away but he’s locked in. picking up on the slight limp in your walk instead— no doubt from the rough way gojo fingerfucked you under the table earlier. the memory of desperate tears glazing over your big doe eyes as you pleaded for them both, begging nanami to give you permission to cum, twists a serrated knife into the mass of hot arousal already simmering in the pit of his gut. 

you’ve got him entranced, just like that, staring at the soft jiggle of your ass until gojo notices and kisses his teeth, smoothing the hem of your dress down in mock chivalry as he glances back at nanami with a bright sparkle in his quicksilver blue eyes, blackout sunglasses slid low on his pretty nose and grinning with those fanged incisors gleaming in the moonlight like a predator.

god, nanami hates the way his mouth runs dry at that look. 

“it’s just like old times, eh?”

 gojo leers out as soon as the three of you pile onto the train. his crude vocals are too loud, slashing through the quiet to bounce against the big metal walls. blinding fluorescent lights buzz overhead, casting an eerie green glow. 

“i don’t know what you’re referring to, gojo-san,” nanami lies breezily, pinching the bridge of his nose to alleviate the headache forming behind his brow at the teasing sound of gojo’s voice. “if you could please be quiet now.” 

oh, but nanami knows exactly what the other man is referring to, doesn’t he? the unique moments in life when gojo satoru and nanami kento operated on the same wavelength. younger days before nanami left for university abroad at copenhagen, drunken nights in the dorm at jujutsu high after tough missions. dares and childish games that led to beer-flavored spit swapped between giggling peers. a lost bet. nanami never backing down from a challenge. suguru dutifully filming with a cracked flip phone as gojo mouthed down the length of nanami’s cock— 

he was a madman for playing gojo satoru’s games then, and he definitely is one now. 

“what’s like old times?” you pipe up with a question, breaking through nanami’s thoughts. your head bobbles between the two men rudely leaving you out of the conversation, confusion wrinkling your pretty features. “what are you two whispering about?” 

nanami grits his jaw, refusing to elaborate, but gojo huffs out the beginning of a chuckle and parts his lips to answer you. be it for dick, pussy, or spilling secrets better left buried, he can never keep his mouth shut, can he?

“mmm, nothing you need to worry that pretty head about tonight, angel,” he shrugs, a lazy smirk settling on his pink lips. the threads of patronization laced through his words makes you even more curious, though. “we’re just reminiscing.” 

his long arm curves around your neck after that, tugging you towards him. bending his head down to press his nose against your hair affectionately, breathing in the scent of your shampoo in a gentle kiss obviously meant to disarm your questions. 

and of course, it doesn’t work. 

“oh, i see,” you nod, like you’ve cracked the code. eyes fluttering down into narrowed slits at the both of them. “you two shared many women before like this, have you? is that what you’re talking about?” 

it doesn’t sound like an accusation. after all, you know how experienced your boyfriend’s appetite is, but the words come out a little more bitter than you intend. satoru quirks a snowy brow, still gleaming his signature grin. how would you react if you knew their truth, their history? 

“we have not,” that was kento, finally speaking up to clarify when it’s his reputation on the line, earnestly hoping that you’ll drop the subject. 

“but we’ve shared each other,” and that was satoru, cupping his hand to your ear like he’s spilling a juicy little scandal. 

“o-oh-” 

whatever answer you expected, it wasn’t that. 

your mouth opens to ask another question, but a safety recording cuts the conversation short before the train lurches forward, speeding out of the station. soon, you’re out in the city— skyscrapers and bright lights blurring past the windows at breakneck speed. 

gojo’s cue now that you’re temporarily sealed away from civilization. 

he leans against a pole, smirking against your hair. his hand caresses a path down your front slowly, and you momentarily forget how to breathe, sucking in your tummy because it’s starting again— his nasty fucking game. 

and for the first time, there is a third player. 

“remember the last time you tired putting your hand up my skirt on a train, gojo satoru?” you remind him as his hand begins to slither into the cleavage of your dress, disappearing under the fabric to shamelessly cup one of your breasts, giving it a gentle knead and making you bite down on a gasp. “not to mention, there’s cctv right there-” 

“how was i supposed to know there was an officer right across from us?” 

“you literally have the six eyes, satoru.” 

“shut up.” he huffs. “what are you so worried for anyway? we’re alone, and that guy won’t tell anyone what we’ve been up to. he wants you just as much as i do, right nanamin?” 

“i was under the impression you invited me back to your home, not to get arrested,” nanami retorts dryly, but his tone is a complete contradiction to the look in his honey brown eyes. he is staring across the train car at you with so much open lust, his intensive gaze simmers heat all the way underneath the surface of your skin, making you squirm even more. it’s that look in his eyes alone, like he wants to ruin you for your own boyfriend, that makes each move of gojo’s a little more than proprietorial. a farewell to his darling baby before he auctions you up for the taking. 

only, he surely intends on taking you back at the end of the night because you belong to him. but only after he checks off a certain box— after he burns the vision of you getting fucked on another man’s cock while he watches into his temporal lobe. 

“i’m not worried about nanami-san,” you frown, rolling your eyes, “i’m worried about the cctv.” 

“i’ll handle it,” he promises, his voice dark and low. he kisses your ear with a whisper that sends a hot shudder down the curve of your spine. “why don’t you go and greet nanami properly while i do, sweet girl? he’s over there all by himself.” 

your head whips around, eyes wide at his suggestion. nothing can really surprise you about the six-foot-three smirking egomaniac you’re dating at this point. that limp in your walk, the cooling slick still coating your sticky thighs from your last orgasm, and your missing pair of ruined panties are a testament to his want to fuck you in every location, in every way possible. to etch his mark into the world that stands at his feet, one drop of cum at a time. 

even if it means offering you up to nanami kento like a sacrificial lamb plump and ready for the slaughter. 

and you? you’re perfectly fine with being a sacred contribution left at his alter. 

“or are you scared?” gojo wonders, glancing over at the other man.

it’s not just a meaningless taunt. both you, and nanami can hear the weight behind the question. it’s a chance to back out. a consent form. he may be a greedy, overpowered sorcerer with an insatiable love for dirty fucking but he respects nanami, and he respects you above all else. you’re the love of his life, a little piece of his soul living outside of his body, and he knows how many steps he can take outside of the box before he runs into boundaries. and though you never back down from one of his challenges, though your mind is honey coated in lust, you lift your gaze to the ex-salaryman and you consider him, one final time. 

anyone with a pair of eyes can appreciate the beauty in nanami kento. he is all sharp contours and deep tenor. timeless handsomeness that reminds you of an old money heartthrob from the sixties, or a classic comic book hero. nanami may be the complete opposite of your boyfriend, austere and jaded, but you would be lying if you said you weren’t attracted to him, that you did not enjoy the steadiness of conversations with him and the few, ill-delivered dry jokes he indulges in from time to time. perhaps it was the throb in your clit convincing you, or the memory of him demanding you be a good girl and cum for them both back at the restaurant, but god, you fucking wanted him.

no, you wanted them both, and you would deal with your shame for it in the daylight hours.  

“don’t you know me at all, gojo satoru?” you finally break the silence with a confident smile, making gojo snort at you before he shoves you off the deep end— hands on your shoulders to nudge you into stepping across the train car until you stop in front of nanami. 

he is the only one sitting down, watching you approach with that stoic expression of his. at first glance, he looks utterly unimpressed, but you should have known better as your legs bump his spread knees and you glance down, getting a glimpse of the outline of his hard cock bulging against the tight inseam of his khaki slacks. 

your breath shortens into a needy pant. wondering what it would feel like weighing your tongue down after you’ve wriggled him out of that boring designer suit of his? or how much it would make your hips ache as it stretched your cunt out until you soak gojo’s expensive sheets down to the last thread? 

warmth blooms over the skin of your cheeks as his sharp eyes follow your line of sight. he quirks an amused brow, catching your shameless stare locked on his lap. he barely shifts under the attention, no slouch in the posture he holds with an easy confidence. “didn’t anyone ever tell you that it’s rude to stare at a cock you don’t plan to sit on, young lady?” 

“who says i don’t plan to sit on it, nanami-san?” you mouth off, even as your knees weaken under the weight of his authoritative tone. you hear gojo scoff in amusement, still leaning against that pole, arms still folded as he watches the scene unfold— playing out just how he wants it. 

“you’re still standing, obviously,” he points out, and how he makes such simple words sound like honey spread over velvet you don’t know, but the deep, flat timbre of his monotone flutters a lick of arousal through your belly. 

“do you want me to?” 

“come here and sit, back facing to me,” he instructs, gesturing to his lap. he doesn’t even think about putting his hands on you, no matter how desperately he wants to, letting you build up the courage to obey someone new. instead, he unfastens the buttons on his blazer slow, one by one, before removing his goggles and tucking them away into an inner breast pocket. sandy hair tinted slightly green under the lighting in the train as he waits for you. it isn’t easy for him to fight the more reckless part of himself when you’re standing there, staring at him like this, and he’ll be ashamed tomorrow to say that he didn’t even try. “well?” 

behind you, gojo wears a dangerous smirk. temple of his skull resting against the cold steel of the balance pole, content to watch his girlfriend climb into the lap of another man. you’re thankful that the subway car the three of you are in is deserted. you had kept your head down when satoru shamelessly flicked his wrist at the mechanical sliding doors as other passengers tried to board, slamming it shut in their confused faces and twisting the metal into a makeshift lock with cursed energy so that no one else is around to witness what you’re doing. 

you settle until your back meets nanami’s firm chest, your heart beating erratically. the sorcerer’s muscled arm feels warm through the sleeves of his tailored jacket as he wraps it around your torso, pulling you securely against him. embarrassment makes you shy as you realize that you’re sitting on your coworker’s lap with no panties on underneath your dress, his wide stance forcing your thighs to spread— rucking your dress up past your hips and exposing your pretty pussy to gojo’s twinkling gaze. 

“the cctv-” 

gojo nods, and you whimper softly as he shifts to stand a little taller, smartly placing his massive stature in front of the camera embedded in the beam above your heads. “that’s that,” he claps, then he lifts a brow, “oi, oi. you gonna take all night? our stop is next.” 

“not everyone is quick as you, gojo-san,” nanami snorts at his own little joke before he dips his head, pressing his nose to your pulse point. his eyes shut in pure ecstasy as he breathes in a gust of your perfume. scented like ruination, supple like forbidden fruit laid over his lap— he can’t resist pressing his lips to your neck first, his veined hand cupping your face, thick fingers curled under your chin to guide your head in his direction afterwards. “she deserves my patience.” 

“tch.” gojo rolls his eyes.

nanami has always been a quiet man. he doesn’t speak unless spoken to and barely then, refusing to make idle small talk and declining offers to mingle after work with his colleagues, but you know what he wants without words. your own fingers move, brushing over the buzzed wisps of hair at the nape of his neck as he parts his lips. tender in the way he finally tastes you, in the way he suckles your plump lower lip into his mouth.

you’re unfamiliar, but your kiss feels decadent to him and already, he’s determined to learn you. how many times had he lost focus in a meeting, wondering how you would feel on his lips, his tongue, his cock? the blond sorcerer presses his thumb against the middle of your cheek, keeping your jaw parted so that he can pet his tongue over yours until you gasp desperately into his mouth. 

the kiss is slower than what you’re used to, but nanami gives you passion, even though he’s a stranger to your body— a scene that your boyfriend watches with hungry, almost envious eyes. you can feel the burn of his stare from across the metal car. seeing you writhe all over his kouhai’s lap, twisting your fingers in his short hair, sucking his lower lip into your mouth, makes hot need churn in the pit of gojo’s gut to take his place.

he’s supposed to be blocking the cctv, but he can’t help it. before he knows it, he’s crossing the space of the train in a few strides, taking a seat next to you and nanami. 

you jolt when you feel the familiar weight of satoru’s big hand splay out over your thigh. heart beating erratically. saliva coating your lips and you whine because you’re desperate for more, but you don’t have to wait long. 

“my turn, sugar,” satoru grins, tucking a finger under your chin to pull your head away from nanami and towards him.

you go to him easily, no care at all that the security cameras are watching you bounce between the two men and their touches. letting your boyfriend smooth your hair away from your face before he cups your cheeks, sparks dancing down your spine as he kisses you insistently, urging you immediately into a hungrier slide of your lips against his own. 

“oh,” you sigh, and satoru shushes you with his wet tongue between your lips. he loves tonguing you down, leaving you breathless with the hunger he feels for you. sweetness of the dinner wine he spit into your mouth earlier lingers in the kisses he gives you.

it’s easy to get lost in him, to bathe in the attention when someone like gojo satoru is willing to give it to you. you’re so lost in his kiss that you almost miss the sound of nanami’s sudden, muted groan; a needy throb pulsing between the seam of your cunt as you realize you’ve been squirming over his lap without meaning to, the hard weight of his clothed cock pressing snug between your bare ass cheeks, the tip rubbing against your clit. 

“this isn’t the place for that. be still.” 

“but i want to.” 

nanami grunts in the back of his throat as you ignore him, plush hips swiveling down, grinding against the sensitive head of his cock beneath his khakis, his rough fingers squeezing your thigh desperately in reprimand. 

“can’t handle her already, nanami?” gojo taunts in a drawl, redirecting his kisses down your neck affectionately so that nanami can claim your lips again. they’re swollen, bitten by kisses, strawberry rouge smudged and ruined as they build a routine, taking turns sharing your kiss, stealing the breath out of your lungs to draw into their own.

you know that comparisons are against the natural rules of a threesome, but you can’t help yourself. they touch you so differently, vintage and brand new— opposites like the burning rays of the summer sun and the cool beams of the moon during winter, but their intensity is the same. 

satoru... satoru kisses like a man out of time because love has a habit of being snatched out of his hands, and life is fleeting in the world you live in and he needs to show you just how much he feels for you before it’s too late. he’s impatient and a little forceful, digging prints into your skin, leaving marks and love bites that sting in the aftermath— so you’ll never forget him, he thinks. he’s not shy, never ashamed to touch you in the middle of a crowd because your taste is just that fucking sweet to him and he won’t waste a minute of time he has with you. you can always feel his desperation, the urgency to prove his devotion embedded into each, skilled kiss. 

and then there’s kento, who kisses like he’s stopping to appreciate a masterpiece in a museum. there should not be so much reverence in his touch, not when you belong to someone else and he’s just an extra in your movie, the thrill of the hour for a sexually adventurous couple— but he is unhurried and thorough in the face of your greediness. feeding you by hand what he wants you to have. if you surge forward to take what you want, he counters and nips the tip of your nose in a bite that startles you, that makes you giggle, leaving you soft as putty in his grasp. and when he kisses you . . . when he kisses you it feels like he alone can stop the hand of the clock itself. as if he’s got all the time in the world, even though he is a man who only has the pleasure of your body for one night. 

if he can survive a train ride with you, that is. 

“stop moving.” 

“pretty please, nanami-san. i need jus’ a little... jus’-” you plea, and despite his warning, you plant your heels on the edge of the train seat. leverage to grind your pussy over the weighty print of his cock. back and forth, choking on little whines against nanami’s lips while satoru kisses at your collarbone and stares between your thighs. it’s frustrating to have nanami sitting there under you with a barrier in the way, the friction a tantalizing itch that makes you want to dissolve into sobs. you can hardly find it in yourself to care that you’re wetting the fabric of his pristine clothes with the sticky arousal dripping out of your little hole as you angle your hips down, dragging your clit over the cool zipper of his pants. 

“you want it that badly? you’ll writhe all over my cock, on a train no less, with your boyfriend sitting right next to you? you should be ashamed,” nanami tuts, reeling back to press his voice to your ear. “but there, there. i’ll give you something proper to rub on.”

“that’s not fair ‘cause you told me to sit, mmfgh-” you pout in petulant protest, nanami’s words causing your skin to blister under the heat of them, but satoru cuts you off once more by suckling your lower lip, grinning a little when you choke on a whine.

though the ex-salaryman’s tone burns a lick of shame down your arching back, one of his hands hitch up to your breasts to soothe the sting, squeezing the soft flesh through the fabric of your silky dress. and then, his other hand fondles your thigh and you inhale because he’s so fucking close— rough, calloused fingers slipping along the joint of your hip to brush over your mound. 

“here it is,” he announces, pressing his wet mouth to your cheek, reveling in the whimper you give him as he pushes a stiff thumb against your clit, pressing it down hard. keening, your hips twitch forward eagerly. his finger doesn’t offer much friction, but you rut against the palm anyway until he draws his middle finger down, spreading your folds and swirling an unhurried circle around your entrance, causing your breath to fan out of your chest in a rush.  “don’t be shy about it. rub against my finger and let satoru watch.” 

satoru isn’t interested in just watching though. 

he takes your hand and guides it to his clothed crotch first, a ruined moan punching out of his chest when you immediately wrap your fingers around the outline of his cock. it’s hard against your palm, and though the angle is awkward, you make due; rubbing your hand over him until his hips jerk up off the seat. as a reward, you feel satoru’s index finger join kento’s between your thighs, rubbing figure eights into your wet, puffy clit. you have to squirm helplessly between the two men playing with you like a pretty doll. delighted sounds leaving gojo’s lips as he mouths at your breast, flicking his tongue over your clothed nipple until the front of your dress is damp with spit. 

all three of you know that this is going too far. that the two men are devouring you in the middle of an empty train car, and you need to stop this before the security camera records any more of your sins. but how can you, when gojo pinches your clit at the same time nanami dips the very tip of his finger inside you, a low groan rumbling from his throat at the way you greedily squeeze around the thick digit, wanting to suck him in further. he clenches his jaw, staving off a groan. knowing you’ll feel so fucking heavenly around his cock when he spades you on it—

but just as the both of them are about to give you what you want, push two long fingers into your needy cunt, rub soreness into your clit until you cry, the train screeches to a slow, metallic stop at the next station. you startle, eyes flying wide open in mild panic as the doors prepare to slide open. 

“oh, well, i do believe this is our stop,” satoru says nonchalantly like he’s back to pulling the strings, like he wasn’t about to fucking cry at being interrupted when all he wants to do is make you cum again. whistling the melody to one of your favorite songs as he dips in to press one last kiss to your cheek before he stands up, stretching his arms overhead to pop stiff joints. “if you two are finished giving the security guard material to fuck himself with during his shift, let’s go.” 

the air is thick with cloying tension, oppressive enough that you can hear the ragged breathing from both sorcerers. once you exit the train, you know what’s waiting for you. your belly lurches in delicious anticipation at the mere thought of it.

gojo satoru fucks like a god and that’s when he is alone. his competitive streak will have him trying to ruin you, not satisfied until you’re fucked out and bruised and crying, with another man sharing the field. and nanami... nanami kento is an enigma, a paradox you could have never pictured agreeing to share a woman for the night with someone he is seemingly annoyed by all day, all night.

but proper, orderly men like him have a tendency of harboring the darkest desires of them all, and you have a feeling discovering what they are tonight means having trouble getting out of bed the next morning with stiff thighs and an aching cunt. 

“are you alright?” nanami murmurs, as cordial as ever. he barely seems affected at all, except for the unsteady hitch in his breathing— and, of course, the fact that his cock is dripping uncomfortably wet against the too-tight fabric of his briefs. his hand abandons you, sliding around to smooth your dress down before he sets you to your feet on the floor. 

nodding, you step forward on shaky legs, and satoru stretches out his hand for you to take. but before you follow him this time, through the automated doors and onto the platform, you look back and offer a hand to the 7:3 sorcerer with a grin that nanami knows you had to have picked up from satoru. 

“coming, nanami-san?” you repeat gojo’s words from earlier, offering yourself up to them both for the night. 

nanami huffs out a snort, glancing down at his fingers in consideration. the thick digits still glisten with your glossy cum under the fluorescents, the knot in his throat bobbing with starvation. he feels insane for crossing a boundary and getting involved with gojo satoru again (and now... now, you) but he’s lost all fucking sense, all self control at this point. any other day, he would be too dignified to even bring a woman home after a date but tonight, he raises his fingers to his mouth to suckle them clean without ever taking his eyes off of you before he dries them on a handkerchief, ever the gentleman. god, he wants to weep at the taste of your pussy on his tongue, but he stands to his full height and curls those long digits around your waiting hand instead. 

“after you.” 

gojo’s penthouse in shinjuku is dark and chilly when the three of you walk inside. nanami doesn’t pay much attention to the living space as he trades loafers for guest slippers with pandas printed on the top at the door, but he feels out of place when he finally does glance around.

nanami never had any reason to think about gojo satoru’s living situation or interior decorating skills, but he’s surprised at how... human it looks.

to him, gojo is a curse. a curse that he respects, tolerates, and trusts, but a thorn in his side nonetheless. it is a childish thought, but he had expected to find the space to be as annoying as he is during the day. though it was obviously a bachelor pad meant for a man who never intended on settling down, there are signs of you all over it, turning it into a real home.

he passes by polaroids decorated with stickers and framed photos of you with his students at the beach in okinawa, presumably snapped by satoru himself. pastel pillows and plushies mismatch with the cool design of deep sea blue and sleek black furniture. he has to avert his eyes with a disbelieving scoff when you hurry past him to snatch one of your bras off the back of the couch, as if you and your freak of nature boyfriend didn’t invite him back here for one reason and one reason only. 

“are you hungry, nanami-san?” you ask suddenly to shatter the ice, glancing around the apartment nervously. you’re trying, okay? how are you supposed to know how to start a threesome with your colleague? “i, uh- i know you didn’t get to finish your meal at the restaurant and i’m not the best cook, but oh-! we do have leftover takeout in the fridge-” 

“what she means,” gojo begins, clucking his tongue at your awkward hospitality, not phased in the least bit when you shoot him a murderous glare that could level a city, “is to ask if you’re ready to finish what you started on the train. she’s wet for you- i bet she wants to know how different your fingers feel from mine when they’re fucking her.” 

he pauses with meaning, letting it hang in the air like a fat, full moon, grin widening as he drags that salacious blue gaze down right to nanami’s crotch. “how different something else of yours feels too.” 

“you are unbelievably crude.” 

“why don’t we show nanami to the bedroom?” gojo suggests, eyes on you now. you have no choice but to nod, a nervous bubble trapping your words inside of your throat. you spin around, heading down the long hallway and to the main bedroom, your red bottoms clicking against the lacquered marble floors. 

the entire penthouse stands for what being the precious scion of jujutsu society can buy you in a rich city. gojo’s bedroom is nearly the same size as the main living area itself, an open space with high ceilings, glass walls, and warm amber lighting. the furniture is sparse so as to not overwhelm his senses. there is a sitting area of chairs by the big glass windows that display a perfect view of tokyo’s glittery skyline, and a california king bed sits focal in the middle of the room, the memory foam mattress dressed with expensive bamboo sheets the color of rich chocolate.

it’s all familiar to you, a second home, but when the doors shut behind the three of you and you’re truly alone with them, the presence of two powerful sorcerers watching your every move, their lust humming around your body in a chokehold and threatening to devour you whole, makes you feel like you’re walking into this room for the first time.

as expected, gojo wastes no time when the doors are closed. he closes the space between the two of you, pressing the lean line of his stature against your back. you welcome him happily, desperate for his actual touch and not the teasing he does when he wants to make you cry. he lowers his head, pressing featherlight, open-mouthed kisses to your shoulder that earns him the tilt of your head to allow him more access, eyelids fluttering shut as he reaches the junction of your neck. 

“satoru...” you breathe out his name in the softest of sighs, and he makes a sound that he hears you— wrapping an arm under your breast as he bares down with his teeth, sucking a bruise into your skin while his fingers pinch the zipper of your dress. dragging it down until the fabric crumples to the floor and you’re the first one completely naked. 

“is this the real reason you took me to dinner with you, gojo satoru? to get me out of my dress?” 

“i don’t know what you mean, princess,” he says, and then he twists your body around to face him. cobalt blue orbs drinking down the sight of your naked body, darkening as he watches the way your nipples stiffen under the cold blast of air from the vents overhead. “i can get you out of your dress anytime i want.”

nanami almost rolls his eyes, but finds the restraint not to. he has enough confidence to make himself at home, too, while gojo undresses you. removing his blazer, he folds it neatly over the back of an armchair before moving to the silver drink cart on the other side of the bedroom where your boyfriend keeps alcohol he is too lightweight to actually consume, but you can feel his attention on you even though he makes himself scarce.

“are we being rude?” you whisper, only for satoru’s ears as he thumbs over one of your nipples, swallowing dryly. satoru follows your line of sight to nanami, and scoffs as if you’re being ridiculous.

“don’t worry about him right now. he knows what to do and he’ll come over when he’s ready. look at me.” gojo hooks a finger under your chin, tilting your gaze up and forcing you to look up into the twin pools of his blue eyes. at the sight of your plush body, his chest becomes so tight with want that it takes every last ounce of his self restraint to not flip you over, press you into the mattress, and split you on his cock. “that’s it. keep those pretty eyes on me.” 

“attention hog,” you roll your eyes. 

“gonna be a brat in front of our guest?” he hums, backing up until he sits on the edge of the bed. legs spread so that you can settle in between them. even though you’re no stranger to being naked in front of satoru, you feel exposed with the other man in the room. it doesn’t help that nanami is so quiet and observant— the sharp cut of his stare prickling against your skin from where he stands at the window, sipping dry scotch from the glass he poured himself. just knowing that he is waiting to make his move has your cunt pulsing with need, sweat beading along your hairline. 

hands resting on gojo’s shoulders, you lift a leg and climb into his lap. his hands drop down to gather the seat of your ass into his palms— shamelessly kneading the fat roughly between his fingers before delivering an open-handed smack that’s so fucking hard it gnashes your teeth together, your cunt clenching desperately around emptiness.

“o-oh-! what was that for-”

“for neglecting me all night,” he whines, and brings his hand down once more— quick, dirty slaps to your ass that bounces off the hollow walls of his bedroom until tears spring to your eyes, a bittersweet mixture of pain and pleasure that you love. “for holding out on me. not letting me fuck you on top of that table where everyone could’ve watched. for being a smartass.”

“dirty old exhibitionist.” 

“damn right,” he grins, like a madman. edging back on the bed and dragging you with him until you’re straddling his hips now. his cock pressing deliciously up against your pussy through his slacks and somehow, you’re no further in getting what you want than you were back on that fucking train. it frustrates you, knowing that he would rather tease you out than let you sit on it. but you know that satoru is good for it, and the only thing you can do right now is grind your hips down in a slow circle, rubbing a sticky spot into his designer slacks. 

“there’s just no satiating you, is there?” he sighs, one hand leaving your ass. thumb dipping between your folds to brush over your clit, the little nub oversensitive, puffy with need, and you squirm at his fleeting touches. “sit on my tongue then, huh? been dying to taste this pretty pussy all night long, angel.” 

“but i want-” your lips part to whine, but gojo sweeps in to kiss you quickly, sucking your bottom lip against his warm tongue that shushes your protests so quickly, it’s embarrassing. 

“you want my cock in you, i know,” he drawls, as if he feels sympathetic for you— as if he’s your liberator and not your executioner. this is nothing for him. oh, he’s plenty aroused. been aching to be buried in your cunt since the beginning of the night, but he could tease you for hours with his relentless touches and mocking words because it’s that much better. he’s a giver, and your pussy is so much sweeter to him when he’s got you swollen with need, cheeks streaked in tears. “or maybe . . . maybe you’re begging for nanami’s now?” 

you feel your heart flip, and you’ll never really get used to the feeling of knowing that you’re here, agreeing to get fucked out by your boyfriend and your colleague and they’re both denying you. head spinning into a dizzy twirl with arousal as you squirm over satoru’s clothed cock, desperate for friction. you try to bat your eyelashes, make it pretty, make him relent into skipping steps. “want you both, ‘toru. need you both. i’ve been so good for you, right? i deserve it.” 

“you deserve it, baby. and you’ll have us. after you sit on my tongue.” he says, adamant in this. 

“ugh!” 

gojo is so nonchalant about it, waiting expectantly for you. despite how confident you are in your sex life with him, it’s one of those positions that you’ve always been a little too shy to do often, but it’s hard to even think about refusing the skill of his mouth when he looks like that.

he’s reclining on the bed now, propped up on one elbow with those pretty summer eyes smoldering under wintery lashes and the peaks of his snowy hair falling over his forehead. pressed shirt all wrinkled now with the buttons popped open so that you can see glimpses of his strong chest and the ridges of his toned abs— just beckoning for a pretty girl like you to crawl up his broad chest and smother his face with your plump thighs and intoxicating scent. 

“what if i smother you?” you try one last time but the words sound ridiculous to even you.

“dare you to try,” he taunts, bravado on full volume but he squeezes the flesh of your thigh in reassurance as he reads between the lines of your words; catches the real meaning. “you shouldn’t worry about that, angel. i can take it. know why?” 

“not this again-” 

“know why?” he insists, like a bratty child.

you roll your eyes, but an endearing smile cuts through the thread of anxiety worming its way into your confidence. gojo’s talkative nature isn’t always annoying— sometimes, he knows exactly the right thing to say. “because you’re the strongest?” 

“that’s my girl. now get up here already. nanami is getting impatient.” 

nodding, you listen to him. inching up his body until your thighs cage in the handsome angles of his face, those striking azures glittering like gems between your legs as he smirks up at you like he’s got the best seat in the fucking house when in reality, it’s you. 

you screw your eyes shut as gojo leans forward, bracing yourself for that first warm lick of his tongue over your sensitive nerves— 

but instead of putting his mouth on you, the sorcerer presses his nose right up against your mound and takes a long, lewd whiff of your pussy— the sweet and sour musk of your slick clinging to the curls at your mound, filling his nostrils with a heady scent that makes a hoarse whine stumble out of his chest. 

“you’re so gross, satoru! behave-” you squeal, reaching down to tug painfully at the messy white strands of hair on his head, but the twinge of pain that shoots through his skull only causes him to grunt even more in pleasure. 

“and you smell like heaven, angel.” his nose nudges against your clit as he licks a long, rough stripe up the length of your slit. he’s not surprised that you taste as sweet as you smell either— you always do. sticky honey smearing all over the inner parts of your thighs and he makes sure it coats his tastebuds just as good too, appeasing your pretty cunt with starter flits that makes you grow hot. 

one of his hands trail up your tummy, landing right on one of your tits. he twists your nipple between the rough pad of his thumb, a whimper choking off at the base of your throat at the pinch.

pleasure blooms slow between your hips. it’s so gentle, so deceiving that you almost forget who you’re fucking. gojo satoru is never really gentle . . . sometimes he forgets you’re not as strong as him, that you can fall apart at the seams if he fucks you the right way. he’s just warming up, and you fall for it every time. relaxing into his grasp, a rabbit ensnared. letting him lick you into submission, and by the time you begin to squirm, intending to run from his oncoming onslaught, your boyfriend is locking you into place with his strong arms roping around your thighs. 

giving you no choice in it but to curl your fingers around the headboard in front of you and endure another round of the cruel pleasure awaiting you. 

“f-fuck, i could drink you dry,” he whispers under his breath, the low rumble of his baritone muffled by the press of your puffy pussy smooshed against his full lips, the vibrations tightening your hips with stinging jolts of arousal. 

you’re still so sensitive, gummy and docile in his grasp. body too tense and unable to move as gojo’s sadistic streak kicks in and takes advantage of your weakened state. he stiffens the tip of his tongue to a hard point, wriggling it right under the hood of your clit where he laps over the oversensitive, used nerves before suctioning the nub into his mouth so tight that you can feel the pull in the veins underneath. it burns. it’s everything. heat seething molten in the pit of your tummy, behind the skin of your clit, up the base of your spine. 

“gentle... s-satoru, gentle. i’m so sensitive-” 

“take it for me, baby. just for a little while.” 

gojo satoru eats pussy like it’s his breakfast of champions, like he’ll lose his mind and wage wars on the streets of tokyo if he doesn’t begin every morning and end every night with his snowy head buried between your thighs. he’s so messy with it too, spitting and smacking to wet up your pussy. saliva dripping from the corners of his mouth, down his chin, into the collar of his shirt— unbothered that the lower half of his face is glossed up in your honeyed juices as his hands force your hips into a slow grind over his lips and tongue. 

and then, as if you’re not already burning from the inside out, your breaths choke off in your throat when he suddenly drags his tongue down, lapping over the entrance to your drooling cunt before he pushes it up into you. 

“o-oh- oh my god.” 

even though it’s nothing more than bothersome pressure, it feels so fucking good that it makes you want to collapse. thighs trembling and burning with the effort to hold up your weight. gojo makes languid, hungry pushes of the soft muscle against your walls that has you whimpering and gasping out. hips jerking as you forget yourself, bouncing down on his tongue like you’re fucking on his cock. and it’s exactly what he wanted, too— his moan is ragged, full of approval. cock throbbing against the tent in his slacks at the little sounds you make. 

you’re so caught up in the feeling of gojo fucking you with his tongue, eyes squeezed shut and knuckles aching around the grip you have on the headboard, that you had forgotten all about the other man in the room until he’s standing right next to the bed. his glass of scotch held in one hand while the other reaches for you, two fingers tucking under your chin to force you to look at him. 

nanami’s gaze roams all over your body. from the swell of your breasts to the tremble in your thighs as your tight cunt twitches around gojo’s tongue. your skin prickles over with goosebumps, swallowing nervously under his open scrutiny. his history with satoru and his apparent crush on you aside, you wonder what he thinks of you now? if such a proper, virtuous gentleman can keep up with insatiable freaks writhing on the bed in front of him. 

will he still dream about holding your hand on tuscan beaches after watching you grind on satoru’s face while begging nanami to touch you with big, pretty eyes, whimpering his name for mercy? 

“nuh-nanami-san, please-” 

“kento,” he murmurs, correcting you. and he doesn’t need the liquid courage— nanami kento is a man full of surety, but he drains the last dregs of his scotch anyway. “address me as kento tonight.” 

“kento,” you breathe and nod, like a good girl. “want you now. want somethin’ in my mouth.” 

visibly shivering at the sound of his given name leaving your lips, at your pleas, the ex-salaryman sets the empty glass down on the nightstand and then he’s reaching for you again. he traces your face, and then the underside of your breasts. his gaze briefly dips between your legs, too. and something in you stirs at the heated look that passes between the two men you’re in between. intense coffee brown meeting mischievous ocean blue before gojo smirks and looks away first to put his attention back on you as his tongue spears up against your sensitive spot, flicking and wriggling against it to spread warmth all along your hipbones and make you cry out desperately. 

reaching forward with greedy hands, you grip onto the front of kento’s dress shirt, needing a distraction from the tight coil winding slow in your gut. you tug him down to an angle where you can meet his pretty lips in a messy kiss. 

though you may have been the one to initiate it, nanami overpowers you easily. he makes the blood rush from your head, leaving you dizzy as he indulges you with his tongue. pausing to kiss over your jaw, sighing soft in the back of his throat like he’s coming home after waiting years to be able to fucking do this. it’s an overwhelming feeling, having one man lick into your mouth while the other challenges your sanity with his tongue against your pussy, his only goal to have you gush all over his face.

“finally,” kento breathes hotly, cupping your cheeks gently in his big hands as he kisses along the corner of your mouth, nipping at your upper lip like he can barely hold himself back to speak, his big hands palming your breasts. “i can become acquainted with this sweet mouth of yours without that one interrupting.” 

but oh, he shouldn’t have said that. 

gojo grunts in offense, but he doesn’t dare stop when you’re so close. if anything, it makes him worse. his hand replaces his mouth, and you barely have time to protest before he pushes three long fingers into your sopping pussy, curling them and fucking them back and forth with a quick pace that makes you ache, the tip of his tongue back to wriggling under the hood of your clit to spear right against those burning nerves again, causing you to thrash and bite down on nanami’s bottom lip, orgasm cresting too fucking fast, washing down over you like a strong tide ready to wipe out your mind—

“give me one right now, and i’ll let nanami fuck your mouth. come on, angel face, give it here-” 

“s-satoru, don’t-!” it would be a scream, but nanami drinks it down in a kiss. breath stolen right from your lungs as gojo forces the orgasm out of you, clenching and squelching so violently your cunt pushes his fingers out and you splash wetness all over the lower half of his face even though your clamp your knees together and try to hold it. tremors lock up the muscles of your thighs, and the pleasure chokes you out. high swirling in your head. you feel swollen, fucked out in the aftermath. knowing that satoru did it to prove a point, and not for your pleasure because you’re barely satisfied from it. your fingers are tangled in kento’s shirt, nearly tearing the fabric as satoru smirks victoriously between your thighs with his face soaking wet.

you push his head away from you weakly, but you know that he won’t let you off with just one. 

you don’t want him to. 

“y-you didn’t have to force it,” you whine, still shaking. “i fucking hate you.” 

“that wasn’t very kind, sweetheart,” kento is the one who speaks next, clucking his tongue. and you’re not sure if he’s talking about you insulting gojo, tearing his shirt, or nearly biting his lip in half or all three. but his lips look so fucking good all bitten and swollen, a dollop of blood pooling where you broke the skin that you ignore his scolding. at least until nanami takes your hand, pressing it firmly against the crotch of his slacks— letting you get a feel of just how painfully stiff his cock feels underneath the fabric.

“i expect that apology i was promised now.” 

god, you don’t need to be told twice. 

watching nanami through fluttering eyelashes, you work through unbuttoning his shirt and pants. the buckle of his designer belt clinks as you wriggle them down his hips just enough to free his cock. you can’t help the whine that leaves you, breath leaving your chest in a whistle at the way it slaps against his abdomen. it’s pretty. he hisses at that first contact of your hand wrapping around the base, moving it out of the way as you lean forward to press a kittenish kiss to his sharp, defined hipbone. 

“your cock is almost as handsome as the rest of you,” you breathe, voice the weight of a siren’s call. “can i taste it?” 

oh, you could pull him underneath the sea with the way you’re looking at him. he barely gives you a nod, and you smile. only a man as pristine as nanami would look this dignified with his pants tucked under his ass cheeks and his expensive shirt hanging off his shoulders, barely held out of the way as you stroke him slow from root to tip, wetting your palm with his sticky precum, opaque over your fingers for an easier slide. 

it’s not surprising that he is beautiful everywhere. a dusting of sandy hair on his defined chest and a sculpted adonis belt that tapers off into a pale and veiny cock. it’s not too long, slightly curved up towards his naval. perfectly heavy and thick— weighing your wrist down with body and strain. it feels scandalous and forbidden, like you shouldn’t be here stroking another man’s cock while your boyfriend watches, but then you remember that he is enjoying this most of all. 

“put your mouth on him, angel,” gojo instructs suddenly, pressing sticky kisses along your inner thigh to remind you of his presence. he barely sounds winded, nipping bruises into your pillowy skin as his salacious gaze locks onto the visual of your hand working over nanami’s leaking cock. “i’m almost done down here.” 

with that, he suckles your puffy clit back into his mouth. his throat flexing as he drinks down the pretty juices leftover. your hips jerk in surprise, but you try your best not to fall. to focus on your part in all of this. you grip onto nanami’s hip for purchase as your swollen lips part for the dripping, thick tip of his cock. sheathing your teeth like gojo taught you and sucking nanami between them slow, letting the 7:3 sorcerer feel the warm slide of your cheeks, fulfilling his darkest little desire of getting to fuck your mouth. 

and nanami hates to admit it, but gojo satoru being there to witness it, all six eyes on him, is like an added summer bonus. 

nanami is such a patient man. he would never think about forcing your pace, but he does place his hand on the top of your head, gently rubbing his thumb over your soft hair. it makes you want to please him further, sinking the tight ring of your mouth down on him until he grunts. the rough texture of your tongue scraping against the sensitive underside of his cock. you’re always such a good girl when it comes to sucking dick that satoru feels that familiar lick of envy burn fury-green in his sternum at the thought of his own erection sitting neglected in his slacks, but he wouldn’t miss the sight of his darling angel struggling to fit nanami’s girth fully into your little mouth even if the world was burning. 

“don’t suck him in like that or he’ll cum too fast and ruin it for all of us.” 

you’re about to reel back, smart off and tell gojo that you know how to properly suck a man off, that you’ve brought his ass to snot and tears with your mouth before, but something in your belly warms with lust instead and your words die under the weight of nanami’s cock pressing your tongue down as you remember what gojo said on the train. that maybe he’s instructing you because he already knows what makes nanami’s knees weak. that those pretty pink lips of your boyfriend’s have been right where yours are now. stretched obscenely around nanami’s thick cock, tongue flicking over the slit of his leaking head, swallowing like a good boy when the 7:3 sorcerer paints his throat white—

oh. 

“that’s it,” kento murmurs under his breath, low and gravelly. ruined. he bends at the waist, cupping your cheeks in his big hands, thumb brushing over the bulged outline of his girth pushing against your cheeks as you suckle around him. “i dreamt of this. laid awake at night thinking of how you would look when i touch you, how you would look with your pretty mouth wrapped around my cock.” he thinks he was a fool for saying that he does not praise or disparage, because he can’t help himself now. how can he not praise you, sweet, perfect you, when you’re suckling on him like that? staring up at him through coquettish eyelashes with a mouth so fucking molten, it makes his stomach churn.

he’s almost nauseous in his pleasure. huffing out low groans as you bob once, twice, swallow around the tip of his cock and repeat. trapping nanami in an endless cycle that makes his knees buckle out. falling too fast for the hot brand around him that burns straight through his skin. eventually, he has to draw back. huff out a groan as he lets himself slip out with a wet pop. “stick your tongue out for me, love. say ah.” 

curling your tongue down to your chin, smiling impishly when the sight makes him groan. he moves forward after a moment of reprieve, slapping the heavy tip of his cock against your flattened tongue— smearing sticky precum all over the surface. you barely have time to swallow it down, slide his sweet taste down your throat before he cups your cheeks in warning and his hips surge forward. widening your eyes in surprise as he widens your jaw at the same time. 

nanami kento isn’t at all what you expected. you figured he would be gentle and slow with you, almost boring in his romanticism. but your hands fly to his hipbones as your throat flexes and you choke around the thick stretch your colleague lodges down your esophagus. 

“that’s it. let me in.” he whispers, and he makes the words sound like heaven when he’s committing sin. you’re only granted a moment to breathe when he springs back, grunting deep in his chest as you part so obediently for him. spit bubbling down your chin, pooling to drip between your breasts and onto satoru’s cheek where he distractedly plays with your clit underneath. your jaw aches, but you let him bruise your throat without complaint. 

“fuck, fuck. you’re so good for him, baby. can’t wait to feel that pretty throat struggling ‘round my cock too.” 

“you’re neglecting her, satoru.” nanami chastises above the volume of your wet gurgles and gargles, jaw locked tight in pure pleasure. he places his hand on your shoulder, bearing down to add weight and force you back onto gojo’s waiting tongue. your boyfriend smirks against your skin, encircling his lips around one of your puffy folds, nibbling it with his teeth before he laves you with long, wet stripes of his tongue. it becomes a push and pull of how long they can tease you. every heated lick at your frayed, overstimulated nerves and every thrust of nanami’s cock against the gummy patch of your throat threatens to make you faint. 

“pw-pleashe-” you blubber around the stretch of nanami fucking into your mouth, fluttering your teary lashes up at him— hiccupping desperate gulps of air into your lungs when nanami eases his hips back immediately, pulling off your tongue so that he can listen to your sweet pleas. 

“i think she has something to say,” satoru muses as nanami wipes his thumb over your lips to wipe away the dribbles of spit drooling down your chin and connecting you to the flushed, aching head of his cock. 

“what is it, love? go on.” 

“i can’t take it anymore. please please please-” 

“been thinking ‘bout it since we left that restaurant, huh?” gojo swipes an indulgent, selfish lick of his tongue over your clit one last time before he’s lifting you off of him and moving out from under your body, letting you settle amongst the pillows instead as he kneels on the bed. “you’ve been nothing but an angel for us tonight so how can i deny you?” 

you should be embarrassed the way your heart leaps in anticipation, heat swarming in your belly and you shamelessly open your legs for him, but satoru doesn’t move an inch to touch you.

you’re convinced he enjoys watching you suffer when he moves to stand behind nanami instead, resting his chin on the younger man’s shoulder so that he can look down the long expanse of his torso while he boldly curls his fingers around nanami’s cock with a firm grip, just to make his entire body pitch forward with a startled grunt—

“gojo-” 

“look how hard you’ve got him, princess,” he muses gleefully, bright eyes shining as he swipes the wide pad of his thumb over the head of nanami’s cock. and you can’t help but look, watching the way clear precum bubbles out of the slit and smears between the joints of satoru’s fingers as he strokes him slowly. nanami’s cheeks flush, his lips parting on a groan before he seems to remember himself and clenches his teeth.

you’re reaching down before you know it, slipping a hand between your own thighs and petting two fingers over your folds but satoru’s gaze whips over to you so fast your heart drops to your gut, his eyes darkening as he catches you with a red hand. “don’t you dare, you little slut. wait your turn.” 

he waits until you nod meekly, move your hand and curl your fists to your chest and then he’s back to his task.

satoru’s hand is different, it’s always been like that. while your touch had been soft, warm, unfamiliar— satoru’s is intense and vivid, like a bad memory. his palm is calloused friction as he drags his hand up the thick length of nanami’s cock, spreading your leftover spit into his skin. no kind of rhythm in his movement, just enough to make the blond man’s hips buck forward before he’s ripping his hand away and chuckling to himself.

“you just couldn’t wait to get your hands on my cock,” nanami bites out through gritted teeth. 

“you’re right,” gojo purrs, a teasing grin on his lips, and then his attention slides to you. “i think nanami wants to fuck you first, sugar.”

at this point, you could care less who gets there first— as long as you’re given what you want the most. glancing at gojo with watery eyes, you look over at him for approval. wondering if he’ll edge you to the brim and snatch it away from you again, but he nods, giving you a soft look that melts your insides to goo. “i’ll admit, i’m reluctant. i’ve been dying to get into this pretty little cunt all night long, but i’m gonna be nice and put you both out of your miseries.” 

“i’ve got something else you can do for me, anyway,” he continues. his nimble fingers move to pop the button on his own slacks then, sliding them down with little effort. he isn’t wearing any underwear, and you swallow greedily around a dried-out tongue as you get your first glimpse of the night of his pretty cock. it bobs out— flushed bubblegum pink and pearling at the tip between strong thighs frosted over by white peach fuzz. unfortunately, you don’t get a chance to reach out and wrap your fingers around it because nanami is crowding your space, letting you breathe in the spicy scent of his expensive aftershave. 

“you’re so eager to do whatever he asks. will you do the same for me tonight?” he wonders, looking down at you with flushed cheeks and mussed hair. 

demure in the way you press your knees further apart until they brush the sheets, making room for his hips to slot in between them. scooting into his lap until your ass cheeks nudge against the wet tip of his cock— legs draped over his muscled thighs so that he can see everything. nanami’s eyes droop down, raking desperately over that pretty little cunt of yours. he swallows, the knot in his throat bobbing under the thin skin before he reaches down to spread your slit apart, all slicked and gooey in strings of wet and the remnants of satoru’s spit. 

“such a pretty pussy,” nanami breathes out the compliment like a prayer, like he’ll die if he doesn’t bury himself in your cunt within the next few minutes. “but i didn’t think you were so tight here.” he marvels, the tip of his cock just barely slipping past your entrance and catching. “how you manage to take that idiot is beyond me.” 

“that almost sounds like a compliment,” gojo quips, but his sky blue attention is distracted between your legs. 

it’s funny how a simple night out to a birthday dinner for principle gakuganji turned out like this— with your stoic, antisocial colleague wrapping his veined hands around your squishy thighs and laying the length of his cock, fat and leaking, on the top of your puffy mound to compare the difference.

the man in front of you is nothing like your quiet colleague. where you expected soft serve missionary and whispered praises from him, you got a fucking size kink and him sucking his cheeks against his teeth before letting a warm glob of spit trail from his mouth to drizzle onto his cock. it’s lewd, how he lets it cool there, watching it spread down the side until it drips onto your pussy as you squirm under the perverted scrutiny from both men. he grips the base of his cock and taps the tip against your clit to make you squirm, smearing his spit as he moves. 

“kento,” you breathe, the tight ring of your cunt twitching because he’s so fucking close to where you want him.  “fuck me already.” 

“be patient, love,” he coos, and you feel the calloused pad of his thumb shift from holding your folds open to dipping his thumb into your cunt briefly, making you jump. “how long does satoru usually make you wait and beg for what you want?” 

“too long. oh, he’s so cruel to me, kento,” you simper, batting those wet eyelashes to get your way, your hands grasping at nanami’s tapered hips. 

“i’m not like that,” he reassures. “if you want something, i’ll provide it for you.” 

and then, nanami’s hips angle down before sinking forward, the push of his cock spreading the walls of your cunt apart agonizingly slow.

“nghhhh-”  

it feels like heaven, and both of you let out a groan. it’s everything nanami dreamed of. pleasure scrapes up his spine, numbing everything else around him and burning his nerves raw until all he can feel is your pussy, splitting open nice and sweet for him.

“so good for me, just a little more,” nanami clenches his jaw, fingers digging into your hips as his lidded eyes stare down at your pretty face— eyes wide and swollen lips suspended in a silent moan. 

immediately though, nanami knows that you’ll be a fucking problem. for all your begging for him, you don’t take it well. he’s barely in as it is, only just past the fat, flushed crown and you’re already choking on gasps and gurgles. slipping out of his grasp and scrambling further up the bed, running to gojo— running away from that first, twinging stretch of the blunt weight of nanami’s wide cockhead. 

“oh, no you don’t- where are you runnin’ off to, sugar?” satoru is the one who reaches down, hooking his hand behind your knee and keeping your leg pinned open for nanami, halfheartedly twisting a fist over the head of his own cock as he watches the other sorcerer force himself through the tight walls of your pussy.

“god, fuck-!” you whine, pressing your forehead against gojo’s knee. 

“what’s wrong? is this not what you begged me for? begged us both for?” 

“y-yeah, but i- c-can’t take it. ‘s too big, ken. w-won’t fit.”

“now you’re just flattering me to get what you want, love,” he murmurs, voice soothing over your frayed nerves like melted chocolate; his soft, nasally voice vibrates against your skin as he dips his head down, pressing his lips to the valley between your sweaty breasts before angling his head to wrap his lips around one of your peaked nipples. “don’t you worry now, i’ll make sure it fits. i’ll make sure you take every inch of my cock.”

you hate that his words sound oddly reassuring, like he’s soothing a frightened animal— like he’s not wider, heavier than satoru when he reels back before fucking himself into you again, to the hilt this time. snorting under his breath when your knees close up, clacking violently against his hips. your first instinct is to push him out, thighs shaking with the effort to take him but he’s sinking with so much weight that it knocks the breath out of your lungs, giving you no choice but to let him split you open.

gojo doesn’t even try to hide the fact that he is enjoying your struggle. he’s scratching the itch of a longtime kink of his, mumbling to himself like a madman about how you look so fucking hot like this, how you take nanami like the good girl you are. this is exactly what he wanted, and he always gets what he wants; but it’s what you wanted too. you wanted satoru to watch the way you thrash against the sheets, the way your pretty lips part to moan your coworker’s name— how fucking beautiful you look arching your back off the bed, hair splayed out on the pillows with another man’s cock fucking inside you.

“how does he feel, angel?” 

“so big, s-so fucking wide-!” you squeal, your words hiccupping off into a throaty moan, “i can’t-” 

“why don’t you be a big girl for nanami? show him how good you are at taking cock, baby,” satoru purrs, stroking his hand across your soft cheek. you nod a little, bite down on your lip, curling your fists into the sheets as nanami fucks steady, raw soreness against the walls of your cunt. the soft swell of your breasts bouncing with each calculated, hard thrust. you muffle the sounds you make against satoru’s knee, but nanami seems to enjoy your gasping cries. practically cooing in response each time he drags one out of you. 

“show him that you can take two at once.” 

before you can comprehend what he means, kento is the one who pauses his strokes, encapsulating your hips in his big hands before he tips you onto your side to give satoru easier access. it’s strange, seeing two men who don’t get along work together to fuck you to tears but it also warms your cunt, a feverish flush traversing through your veins because they’re taking care of you so well. nanami hooks your ankle over his shoulder, bending you until the joints in your hips ache and then he fucks back in, his blunt fingernails digging bloody moons into the doughy skin of your thighs at the feeling of your cunt swallowing him up once more. 

when gojo shifts his hips forward, you know what he wants and you loll out your tongue like a good girl, waiting until your boyfriend wraps his fingers around the back of your head, spindly digits tangling in your hair painfully as he guides your head forward, running your tongue across the leaking slit of his cock, let you gather up his precum on your tastebuds. groaning. sucking in his gut as you let him use your mouth for his pleasure, letting him control you like a little rag doll. and when he tugs on your hair, your swollen lips close around the tip of his cock, suckling on it obediently. whining when you suck just right and the salty taste of his watery precum coats your tongue. 

“look at you, you’re filthy,” nanami mutters, and though the degradation should smart, it makes your hips buck up against his in response because nanami says it with so much fucking veneration, it sounds like he’s praying to god. “i should have known because of who you’re dating, but look. at. you- you’re worse than he is. thrashing all over my cock while you suck another.” 

“k-kento-” 

you don’t need a mirror to know how you look under them. vixenish. a thing out of fantasy, a greedy little cockslut happily splitting open those honey thighs for one man while your pretty mouth is wide open for another; wedged between both of them to be used for their pleasure.

and you couldn’t be happier— you dip low, tonguing at the seam of satoru’s balls, spit congregating at the corner of your lips before he shakes his head, cheeks candy cane red and blue eyes lidded. fingers tightening in your hair with a brutal twist of his wrist, hips fucking forward to sink himself further into your mouth. 

“f-fuck, sweet girl. just like that.” 

nanami’s watching the entire thing, his gaze fixated on the two of you as you suck gojo greedily between your lips. his heart thumps wild, and he can’t help but fuck a little harder at the sight, a little faster, a little meaner, because he knows what you’re tasting right now from experience. salt and sugar at the tip, precum gathering against your tongue that never ends because satoru is messy. his throat dries up, sandy hair falling over his forehead as he tucks his chin against his chest and forces his eyes shut. 

“how does she feel, nanami?” satoru goads, voice breathless, lidded eyes flickering to the man fucking between your legs. “better than me?” 

“better than you ever have. look how easy she’s opening up for me,” nanami shoots at the white-haired man, his fingers holding one side of your pussy open so both men can watch nanami’s cock slide in and out, your cunt expanding to take him with each sink before squeezing down when he presses deep. he’s made a mess of you already— the thick root of his cock coated in a ring of white cream, flecks of it splattered over his lower abdomen.

it’s too much— fuck, he can barely keep his composure. he’s losing control and it’s too much and that’s why nanami does it. he’s overwhelmed. you run too hot, and his gut feels like it’s on fire. each sink of his heavy cock against the warm, squishy walls of your cunt, combined with satoru’s low groans and the sound of you choking around his cock up front threatens to send him over the edge too early. that’s why nanami’s honey eyes darken, why he reaches for satoru— gripping him hard by the nape of his neck and tugging him forward. 

gojo grunts in surprise as nanami yanks him in, but it isn’t as if he doesn’t want to go; as if he doesn’t want to chase the thread nanami is weaving right now. they barely share a heated look before gojo dips his head, locking them into a kiss. 

the first thing that crosses your mind is that it’s so fucking hot, and the second is that the way they kiss each other is not the gentle way they coaxed you into letting them explore your mouth. they aren’t delicate with each other, and you should not have expected them to be.

gojo usually has so much control over nanami— being a stronger sorcerer than him, dominating the conversations they have by annoying him to no end— but when they kiss, it’s different. nanami grips the back of gojo’s neck in a vice, keeping him in place while his long fingers tangle in the short strands of nanami’s hair. it’s all heated licks into satoru’s mouth, lewd sucks against nanami’s tongue. like they’ve waited so fucking long to do this again. one drunk on your pussy and the other drugged out on your throat as they kiss each other vigorously. 

their lips are wet with spit, and at one point gojo bites down on nanami’s tongue hard enough to nick it, groaning at the metallic tang that rides over his taste. you don’t miss how nanami’s hips drive into you harder after that, forcing his grunts down gojo’s throat as punishment. 

if you had any doubts that they had done this before, you don’t have them now. it’s obvious in their chemistry, and though the thoughts swirl in your mind, you don’t feel jealousy as they tongue into each other’s mouths. no matter what, you are the center of satoru’s world and nothing will change that. instead, it’s hotter like this, seeing the two of them kiss each other. knowing the three of you are sharing each other. 

“who told you that you could stop?” kento’s gaze flickers to you, head tilted down and directing the question at you. his chest rises and falls in a desperate heave as satoru mouths a path across the sharp cut of the ex-salaryman’s jawline to the long, toned expanse of his neck. leaving aubergine nips and bites along the smooth olive skin there that nanami hisses at. 

you had been so caught up in watching them that you don’t even remember stopping. you’re almost too fucked out to function yourself— to keep up with the only task you had besides laying there and taking cock, but your cheeks warm as nanami scolds you for slacking off. at some point, you had pulled off of satoru’s cock, rubbing your spit against his skin with a halfhearted, lazy handjob. neglecting your poor boyfriend to watch them kiss. nanami’s hand drops, gripping the back of your head and forcing you to swallow satoru’s cock once more. you suck him in quick, gurgling spit and precum and air in a dirty choke as the warmth catches him off guard and his hips snap forward too fast, the tip of his cock brushing against the fleshy patch at the back of your throat and gagging you out. 

“good girl, f-fuck. you’re so good for me, so good, so fuckin’ good,” oh, he sounds like he’s almost sobbing. 

as you pull him further in, a hot brand suctioning around the girth of his cock at the same time nanami boldly scrapes a fingernail over one of his nipples. it’s enough stimulation, enough overwhelming pleasure that he feels a lurch in his gut, a kick in his balls and then he’s withdrawing almost as fast as he buried himself in, pulling his cock off your tongue at an almost reluctant pace, a string of spit connecting you to his flushed tip.  

“need a minute. can’t cum yet,” he expels a deep breath of relief, grinning at you lopsidedly and bending at the waist to kiss your puffy lips— groaning when he tastes his musk on your tongue. but it’s obvious that gojo satoru isn’t tapping out of his own game.

instead, he stretches out on his belly and suckles one of your nipples into his mouth, pulling the little nub so hard onto his tongue that you feel your eyes wet up at the sensation, walls clenching around nanami with a gasp. he quickly grows bored, though. hand trailing down your tummy until you jump in oversensitivity as his fingers shift through your spread slit, the pad of his thumb rubbing against your puffy, sore clit as nanami sinks in and out of your pussy.

you whine, wanting to cum so desperately that your lashes are wet with frustrated tears, grinding against each of nanami’s thrusts, euphoric dopamine filling your brain each time his fat cock fucks right against that sweet spot inside of you. 

“gojo-san, behave,” nanami warns suddenly, already knowing what the snowy-haired sorcerer is up to. gojo just grins, and then his fingers are dipping a little further, a dangerous glint in his eye that makes your heart sink. 

“aw, come on, spoilsport. i just wanna see how your cock feels inside my girl,” he says innocently, but his smirk betrays his intentions completely. you hiss through your teeth as satoru fishhooks a finger into your pussy, thrusting it right alongside nanami’s cock and tugging, stretching you out even further.

“o-oh-” you keen, and then your boyfriend is leaning down and licking a broad stripe over the length of your slit, hardening the point of his tongue to flick it rapidly against your clit, the heady scent of sex filling his nostrils, making him lightheaded.

you squeak out in surprise, fingers flying to grip his hair, acrylics digging into his scalp because you’re so delirious with pleasure now, fucked out and so so full— walls twitch and clench with each weighted thrust of nanami’s cock, the forked ridges of the veins along the shaft dragging against your nerves, slick squelching out of your stretched hole to drip down the middle of your ass cheeks. 

“look at me while i’m fucking you, darling,” nanami beckons for your attention and you give it to him, looking up at him with misty, lidded eyes. “there we go, there’s my pretty girl,” he croons and he knows that he shouldn’t stake a claim on you like this— you’ll be back in satoru’s arms soon enough, you’ll never belong to him, after all, but he can’t help himself; his hand petting your cheek affectionately as he fucks into you. “you’re going to make me cum soon, love. gonna make me fill up this perfect little cunt. do you want that?”

“yes-! want your cum, kento. want it so bad.”  

“that’s right, darling. let me hear it. let me hear you scream my fucking name in front of your boyfriend.” 

“want you to cum inside me, k-kento. wanna cum with you. f-fuck me, it feels so good-!” you plea, and the beginnings of an orgasm stirs in your tummy— warmth spreading all over the nerves of your clit and building until you can feel it right on the edge, so close that tears bubble up in your pretty eyes because you want it so fucking bad. all it would take is for nanami to fuck into you at the right angle, for gojo to crook the fingers he still has inside of you and press up against that sweet spot and make you fall apart underneath them. 

but you should have expected that gojo satoru would have other plans. his tongue innocently flicking out against your clit until he moves down, mouth widening a little further so that when nanami reels his hips all the way back and plunges forward, it’s not your cunt that nanami sinks into, it’s satoru’s mouth. pretty pouty lips closing around the head of nanami’s cock at the last minute, hollowing his cheeks out, sucking him all the way to the back of his throat like a fucking professional—

“what the- fuck,” a guttural grunt of surprise is punched out of nanami that sounds so deep, so ruined that it rattles your teeth, his entire body trembling at the hot suction swallowing around his cock and he’s lost to it, no chance of fighting it or scolding satoru for the dirty trick— he simply grips the back of his head roughly, burying himself down the sorcerer’s throat as he spurts white ropes of cum onto gojo’s tongue, forcing him to drink every fucking drop. 

nanami heaves in the aftermath, barely able to catch his breath. “can you ever get through the day without being a freak?” 

“keep degrading me,” gojo sighs before he grips your cheeks, squishing them between the pads of his fingers until your tongue pushes out from the pressure and he can lean over your body, lolling out his own tongue and drizzling a thick strand of his spit and nanami’s leftover seed from his mouth into your own, bringing a moan to your lips as your hips thrash. you make a show of playing with it— spreading white it over the surface of your tongue before you swallow eagerly, whining needily as his cum slides down your throat. “it makes my dick even harder.”

“i didn’t get to cum,” you pout.

“sorry, princess,” he doesn’t sound apologetic at all when he looks down his nose at you, shrugging one broad shoulder. “can’t let you have all the fun. don’t worry, though. i’m going to take care of you.” 

you would be lying if you said your stomach didn’t lurch at the promise. 

you’re vaguely aware that the two of them are switching places, eyes too blurry with clouds to see for sure until nanami sits back against the large headboard and pulls you into a half-seated position so that you’re leaning against his chest and his strong arm is encircled around your middle as satoru nudges your cum streaked thighs apart. your eyes are lidded, but you still can see him brush his fingers over your used pussy before he wraps his fingers around the base of his cock, unforgiving and no further warning before he presses inside of you.

heat washes over your entire body, your belly aching as you’re filled up to the brim once again. where nanami was thicker, satoru is everything— overwhelming, all consuming. making your eyes slam shut during that first push every time, unable to help your high pitched whines as he forces you to take every last inch of his cock.

“not gonna say ‘t-toru it’s too much’ for me like you did nanami? i must be losing my touch,” he sneers, mocking you with a condescending coo, his eyes rolling down when he bottoms out inside of you.

“f-… god. f-fuck you.”

“anything for you.”

satoru isn’t interested in teasing any longer, not when he’s been on edge for hours. the unruly, hard rhythm of his fucking has you squirming on his cock quick, each thrust knocking you against nanami’s bare chest— giving you nowhere to run. it hurts, but it’s so good. your cunt too sensitive after being used all night long like this, but you would be lying if you said you didn’t love it.

“be good for him, darling,” nanami encourages, and you think you could get used to the way he holds you— his lips pressed against the temple of your head, his breath hot against your skin as he presses the softest of kisses there, contrasted with the brutal lashings of satoru’s fucking. 

you nod dumbly, letting yourself be wrapped in nanami’s strong arms as satoru fucks in and out, relentless in his strokes, keeping that familiar ache in the pit of your belly. his hips press against yours as he grinds the tip of his cock against the entrance to your womb and he knows he’s too deep when you wince, when your fingernails scratch against his tapered v-line to beg for mercy so he compromises, drawing back until he can see the foam streaking his cock.

“puh-please, ‘toru,” you pant out, guttural and desperate so satoru falls over you, groaning into your shoulder as he does exactly what you asked— slamming his cock into you. making you cry out in surprise as he fucks deep once more, pulses of pleasure burning through your body and making your legs clamp around his hips.

“i-i can’t-” you whine, squeezing your thighs together, but satoru holds you open, not taking your complaints, pressing you down further against nanami so that it’s impossible to escape the dirty onslaught of his cock. “much- too much-!”

“oh, now you say it, ” satoru growls out, rolling his hips. “too late. cum for me and i’ll stop. come on, sweet baby. cum on my cock.”

you can tell that he’s losing it too, the friction almost too much to bear for you both. wrapping your arms around satoru’s neck and clinging to him, you bite your lips to muffle the gasps and moans trying to escape as the heat stirring in your belly is almost to bursting now, a rubber band pulled taut and ready to snap. 

nanami ducks a hand between the wet slide of your bodies, pushing his middle finger against your clit. rubbing in quick circles and you mewl, squirming and thrashing against them both. “do what he says, cum for him.” and you try to hold it, try to last a little longer but it’s no use; the three of you are pressed against each other beautifully and the room feels hazy and hot, suffocating everything else until your pleasure is sharpened to a bright point, until you can feel nothing but them. raw pulses. inner walls spasming against satoru’s cock as he thrusts against you, fucking against that spot inside you until it feels sore, his balls slapping against the fat of your ass cheeks each time he sinks into you. 

“i-i’m g’na cum, oh f-fuck, i’m gonna cum-!” 

“oh, there we go,” satoru groans as he fights through the tight squeeze of your walls, like you’re late and he’s tired of waiting.

your vision dots with black stars, screams echoing off the walls of the room in gojo’s penthouse before your back arches and you’re gone, squirting as your swollen walls clamp desperately around satoru’s cock; drenching the sheets below as you gush all over them both, sniffling as the force of your orgasm forces hot tears to spill from your eyes that gojo and nanami bend down to lick away from your cheeks.

satoru follows close behind, his own climax hitting him like a fucking train— groaning as buries himself deep to cream your cunt with his thick cum. the sight of the two of you, so pretty and filthy as you cling to each other, makes nanami cum again too. completely untouched, spurting hot seed against your lower back where he holds you up.

it feels like forever before your eyes flutter open and when they do, you look up at nanami, his face flushed and hair mussed out of the confines of his hair gel. then, your eyes slide down to gojo who is looking utterly pleased with himself. he wraps a hand around the base of his cock, pulling it free before his thumb gently spreads your folds apart, snorting when you hide your face in your hands as both of them fixate on the sight of your ruined cunt once more. thighs streaked with sweat and cum, strands of seed dripping out of your hole to pool beneath you on the sheets. you look so messy and nanami has to tear his gaze away, his gut lurching with the desire to eat it out of you. 

“fuck, that was good,” gojo breathes, and you whine when he scoops up some of the cum leaking out of you with two fingers and pushes it back into your pussy.

“stop staring at it-!”

“don’t be shy. i’m glad i was given the privilege to see you cum like this, darling,” nanami murmurs, kissing your temple as he pries your hands away from your face. then he moves from behind you, letting your body rest amongst the enormous sea of pillows satoru keeps on his bed. “i trust that the two of you will allow me to eat dinner in peace next time, now that you’ve satisfied another one of your appetites.” 

“no promises,” you giggle, stretching out on the bed and bringing one of the pillows closer to cuddle it. 

“i should help you clean up. satoru, where do you keep the towels?” he says and though he sounds like such a gentleman, it’s really because if he keeps staring at the cum leaking out of you in rivulets, he won’t be able to ever leave this fucking room.

but the white-haired sorcerer doesn’t answer him. instead, gojo flops down and hooks an arm around your waist— his long legs tangling with yours as he pulls you against his chest. it feels symbolic to nanami, somehow. like he’s shared your body, shared his own in a way, and now he’s ready to fit the rightful pieces of the puzzle back into their places.

for a moment, nanami had almost forgotten that neither of you have ever belonged to him. 

he is the outsider, after all. 

his expression remains neutral because he knows when he has overstayed his welcome, knows when one of satoru’s little games are over and there are no rematches. he has been in this situation before, after all— younger, reckless, and just as foolish as he is now— so he stands up and prepares to leave with dignity, walk over to his neatly folded clothes on the armchair by the window and hope that he doesn’t fall asleep dreaming about the feeling of your cunt fluttering around him. praying that now that he’s had you, it’ll be out of his system for good—

“where are you going, kento?” you wonder in genuine confusion, wrapping your hand around his wrist to halt his stride as you tilt your head up with a frown. nanami feels his heart kick in his chest. “we can clean up later, silly. come back to bed.” 

“i don’t think i should stay,” nanami sniffs, wishing he had his tie to adjust out of nervous habit. 

“you know, leaving right after you fucked my brains out is not very gentlemanly of you, nanami kento,” you scold halfheartedly, mouth twisted to the side.

“i have missions in the morning so i regrettably cannot-” his ears turn crabapple pink at your crude words, his free hand reaching over to gently pry your fingers away from his wrist but you refuse to let go.

“well, if you want to be a proper lover, then you will,” you tug on his wrist insistently, almost yanking him back onto the slightly damp covers. satoru grins like a cheshire cat as nanami obliges you, sliding into bed on your other side. 

nanami has never wanted to slap an expression off of someone as much as he does now, but as usual satoru sees everything. he sees what nanami refuses to admit right now: that he was relieved you asked him to stay. that you may just have him completely gone. that tonight unearthed long buried feelings for white hair and a mischievous smile. that he just needs a little bit of time, a little bit of coaxing, to stop being so stubborn and come to terms with those facts.

“i told you she’s greedy, nanami,” satoru grins. 

“i suppose i have no choice then, do i?” 

“nope,” you confirm, and you know that the three of you have a lot to discuss tomorrow about what this means but this progression feels natural, adding balance.

nanami staying with the two of you feels like it was meant to be.

“you have to make breakfast in the morning.”

[kentosbabes]

Jjk boys as camboys

Nanami; Office

He’s been stressed for a while, his boss getting onto him for an upcoming deadline and working overtime. The only way he’s been able to relax recently is to fuck his fist on camera. As weird as it sounds, the feeling of being exposed to thousands of people watching him show himself off live turns him on.

His shirt rolled up and his tie dangling from his plush lips, a grunt caught in his throat. His checks, a pretty rouge and his eyes rolled back. “F-fuck, I needed this,” a guttural moan escaped. His head fell back as he let out a shaky breath as he arched forward so his hard cock was even closer to the camera. He made sure to look at the camera while his breathing became faster, his movements became erratic and his toes curled as the pleasure was building inside him, ready to overflow at any minute.

Gojo; Toys

Gojo was a cam boy for fun, he had the money but there was something about plaything with himself on camera that excited him. Never showing his face, he loved to listen to the requests of his audience. Not shying away at all at the more erotic ones. He ran a hand up his stomach and chest, all the way up his neck and then back down to play with his nipple.

“Play with your vibrator?” He smirked, an assured and arrogant grin took its place, “of course I can can do that for you.” He loves to dirty talk while fulfilling his promises. “I’d let you hold this against my balls, if you were here, right until I’m crying for you to stop.” He writhed against the mattress, moving it down the length of his cock.

Gojo’s head lolled to the side and he let out a high-pitched, needy whine as he spurted strings of white all over himself, glistening in the light. His hand doesn’t stop fisting his cock until he finally is able to look up through his eyebrows to the camera and ask, “Please, please can- can I? Ah.”

Geto; Charmingly clumsy

Geto was the boy next door, he was just a regular guy who you saw at the movies or at school. He even had a regular job as a waiter. But he moonlighted as a cam worker, he loves the feeling of being watched. Sure it pays well and as a collage student thats needed but he genuinely loves his work.

“Do you want to see my cock?” Geto hooked his thumbs on his Calvin Kline boxer briefs which hid his cock from the viewers. Geto nodded as he pushed the fabric so his cock popped out and his balls fell free. He let out a small moan when he wrapped a hand around his shaft and started pumping it, his other hand going to support him as he leaned back. His thighs flex and his legs jerk upwards like he’s trying to stave off his orgasm.

“Can I, pl-please I just, fuck. I wanna just, ah. Can I cum guys?” The dinging sounds of notifications from his viewers overwhelmingly saying yes. Whining a thank you, rocking back and forth. He could feel his climax coming, the familiar toiling in his lower tummy threatening to snap.

Toji; Dirty talking joi

Toji is well known on the app for his voice, more specifically his words. He has an ability to find the dirtiest words and phrases to make the already erotic scene playing out even more erotic.

“Fuck, I had a long day and now I just wanna fuck my fist hard. Any requests?” His abrupt voice and manner make him that much more sexy to his viewers. “A Joi? Sure.” He hooked a finger around his boxers, “I’m going to start with taking my underwear off, now you can start. Being such good little girls and boys.” Curling his hand around his shaft and loosely playing with it by circling with his finger, “Now I want you to start following me and my instructions ok? I’ll reward you with the ability to cum if you do this right.”

Nodding to himself, “if you’re a woman watching this I want you to rub up and down and in a figure of eight motion. If you’re a man watching this,” he drawled, voice deep and gentle, “then just follow me.” He made sure to look at the camera while his breathing became faster, his movements became erratic and his toes curled as the pleasure was building inside him, ready to overflow at any minute. “Fuck, m’gonna cum, cum with me darlin’, ah.”

[sweetdreamlandstuff]

JJK men thinking of you while masturbating

NSFW / Minors don't interact / female reader

Summary: The title describes it perfectly, I have nothing to add haha. For Gojo, Nanami and Choso. Hope you enjoy and let me know what you think!

Warnings: fantasies about blowjobs, handjobs, spanking, sex etc. + low-key some of them are getting caught in the act

Part 2 + sequel to the scenarios here :)

Satoru Gojo

Gojo lets out a long breath when he closes the door to his office behind him. He plops down onto the couch, hiding his face in his hands. Fuck, he should really pull himself together. But since you’ve started working as a teacher at Jujutsu High this has been increasingly difficult for him. 

Today you really tested his patience. He felt your boobs pressing against him when you hugged him and he scolds himself for turning off his infinity, allowing you to do that. And then your delicate hands smoothing over his arm. Sometimes he has the impression that you do all of that on purpose; bending down in your short skirts, touching him, looking at him with these fucking eyes. 

Satoru is the strongest; but just thinking about all of this, about you, has his dick straining hard against his pants. He lowers his hands and sees the outline of his cock pressing against his trousers. This really is a problem. He has to do something about that. And he knows; if he goes about his day without getting a release he’ll get hard just laying his eyes on you. And he can’t let that happen.

So he lifts his hips up to pull down his pants and boxers. His cock springs free and he wraps his hand around it. He hesitates shortly. He feels guilty, perverse even for what he is about to do. But when his palm drags slowly along his length Gojo feels relief spreading through his body. The urge to get a release clouding his mind. 

He loves it when you touch him, fleeting and shy, as if you’re testing the waters. But now he would love nothing more than to have your pretty, delicate hand wrapped around his throbbing dick, pumping into his swollen, flushed tip.

He lets his head fall back against the backrest, closing his eyes so he can picture you better. He imagines it is your warm palm that drags along his shaft. In his fantasy you’re kneeling between his spread legs. You’re peering up at him, your eyes observing him thoroughly as you fasten the movement.

Gojo increases his pace, suppressing a groan that dares to slip past his lips. He imagines you lowering your head, taking him into your mouth. He just knows you would be amazing at sucking him off; your cheeks hollowing to suck on the tip of his head before you take all of him inside. He imagines it’s your mouth instead of his hand that wraps around his dick. Fuck, you would look so beautiful with your plush lips around him, looking up at him through your batted lashes. A low groan rips past his lips as he feels a bead of pre-cum sliding down his length. He spreads it, coating his dick.

He imagines you bobbing your head, his hand nestling into your hair to guide you. “Such a good girl,” he mutters to himself. He sees your face in front of his eyes; the tears daring to spill over as you deepthroat his dick, the look of pure devotion in your hazy eyes. He sees the string of spit connecting you to his glistening cock when you pull away to catch your breath. Gojo increases the pace of his hand, concentrating on his sensitive tip. 

His motions comes to an abrupt halt when he feels a familiar energy approaching. He shallowly lets his hand drag along his length when he hears the knock on his door. Shit. He perks up and opens his eyes. Gojo lets out a shuddered breath when he hears your voice from the other side of the door. His dick twitches in his hand and he tightens his grasp, almost punishingly, when he hears his name dropping from your lips.

And just for a short second he debates whether to just let you come in. To just let you see what you do to him. You would find him, his legs spread on the couch, his hair sticking to his forehead, his eyes half-lidded and his dick almost painfully throbbing in his large hand to get a release. His desperate state; all because of you.

But he doesn’t. “I’m busy. Come back later,” he calls out and hopes that you can’t hear the yearning in his voice. Because he isn’t sure if he would rather have you coming in, finding him like this. You call out an okay, and he still hears your retreating steps as he resumes his movement. 

He lets his head fall back again and imagines that you came into his office. The look on your face, your flustered expressions and wide eyes as you find him jerking off to the thought of you. Satoru feels his orgasm nearing as he wonders what you would do to him; maybe helping him, jerking him off yourself. Or how you would wrap your mouth around him. Or maybe you would lose all your clothes, allowing him to watch you as you play with your tits before your hands glide lower down your body. 

A deep groan rips past his parted lips and he concentrates on his sensitive tip as he wonders how your pussy would look and how it would feel as you lower yourself on his dick, inch for inch. His hips jerk up into his hand, two, three times before he tips over the edge. He groans as he imagines plunging his cock deep inside of you.

Gojo curses under his breath as his orgasm washes over him. His thighs tremble slightly as his hot, white cum shoots out of him. He jerks through it until he is left panting breathlessly and the drag of his hand is almost unbearable. Then he opens his eyes, watching the mess he made, a clear indicator that he must do something about this attraction towards you. Because he knows; next time he won’t be able to say no if you knock on his door.

Kento Nanami

It’s one of these late evenings again where Nanami is glad that he decided to stay longer at work. The office is vacant, the space only dimly lit, as he stares straight ahead into his computer screen, trying desperately to concentrate on the numbers in front of him. But he can’t. He is tired and his eyes always dart back to you.

You both are the only ones that have stayed behind, continuing to work. He loves when that happens, because then he can observe you more openly. And he can see you like the other colleagues can’t; a little more relaxed, a little less composed. This might be one of the reasons why Nanami loves staying so late; working longer than the others just to see you in this state, admiring your features as the dim lights paint you in a luminous glow.

You sit on the desk in front of him, slightly to the right. He watches you work like that, your beautiful hands flying over the keyboard. He gets lost for a few seconds; watching you put your hair up, exposing your long neck to him before you stand up. You turn around, slight surprise in your eyes as you catch him looking at you. You shoot him a small smile “I’ll be right back,” you whisper before you walk out the door. 

Nanami smoothes his hand over his face, letting out a long sigh. He really shouldn’t be such a creep. He doesn’t want to make you uncomfortable. But his tiredness wears him down, making his mind slow. He resumes his work and only looks up when he hears you coming back. 

And when his eyes find you he’s afraid that they are about to plop out of his head. At first he thinks he is imagining it but after a few seconds he is sure that he isn’t. Even in the gloomy light he can see that you must have taken off your bra. Fuck. He tries not to stare, but he can’t tear his eyes away from your tits bouncing ever so slightly, your nipples outlined against the sheer material of your blouse. 

Nanami clears his throat, his gaze trailing up to your face. You catch his eyes and there it is again; that sweet smile of yours. And even through the darkness he sees the glint in your eyes. Do you know what you do to him? Do you do this on purpose? His tired mind is too bleary to process what this would entail. 

He tries to concentrate back on his work, this time not letting his eyes trail back to you. And after a few minutes he sees you moving from the corner of his eye. He perks up and sees you putting on your coat. You turn back around to him and he isn’t sure if he is only imagining the disappointment in your eyes. You’re probably just tired. “I’m heading home now. Are you staying?” You ask him.

Nanami clears his throat. “Yes, just a few more hours. I have to finish something.”

You nod, smiling at him. “Alright. Don’t overwork yourself, Nanami,” you mutter. He shoots you a small smile before you turn back around and leave.

He leans back in his chair when you have vanished. You really are going to be the death of him. He always tries to stay respectful; not once has he ever actively thought about you when he was touching himself. Every time he thinks about you in that way he scolds himself, feeling so guilty. He is a gentleman, through and through, and he shouldn’t do something like that. 

But now he is just so tired. And so riled up from watching you. As he tugs down his pants and boxers he promises himself that this will be the first and the last time. This now will be the only time he will allow himself to indulge in the dirty thoughts he has about you. 

Nanami closes his eyes, exhaling deeply as his hand wraps around his hard cock. He moves his hand up and down his length, slowly and thoroughly. He sees you in front of his eyes; sitting so prettily under his deck as you take his dick inside of your mouth. Your enticing eyes would look up into his as you let your tongue glide along the underside of his dick. 

“Just like that,” he mutters to himself as he imagines you hollowing your cheeks, tears prickling at the corner of your eyes as you try to accommodate everything into your mouth.

Nanami increases his pace, smearing his pre-cum over his length as he imagines you bent over his desk. He would tug up your skirt, pulling your panties to the side to reveal your beautiful pussy to him. And then he imagines sinking into you, wondering how your walls would feel when they welcome him, warm and wet. 

And then he would glide out of you again, watching your pretty pussy gush around his cock. His hand jerks his cock faster now, mimicking how he would pound into you. He sees your beautiful ass, jiggling with every one of his hard thrust. He feels his orgasm nearing, his flushed tip increasingly sensitive.

And he just imagines the sinful noises filling up the desk; the lewd, squelching sound of your dripping pussy and your breathless moans and whimpers. Your name slips past his lips and he groans quietly, as his thighs tremble. 

Nanami is too wrapped up in his fantasy to notice the elevator dinging. He only perks up when he hears your sweet voice calling his name. And at first he thinks you’re calling out his name in his dream but then he sees your silhouette leaning against the frame of the door.

He is on the verge of cumming and he can’t help it, because then his name falls from your lips again. Your voice is soft and full of aspiration and the sound of it makes him go feral. He always loves when you say his name. But now that his hand is wrapped around his dick this alluring sound alone pushes him over the edge. Nanami loses any kind of shame. He cums, hard.

He tries his best to stay silent and struggles to keep his face straight. And as his mind is clouded he desperately hopes you can’t see anything. His dick twitches in his hand as the hot cum coats his fist white, dripping down his thick shaft and his balls. He hopes you don’t hear the quiet curse falling from his parted lips. He hurriedly lets his pulsating cock fall heavy against his thigh. 

Nanami hears your voice and tries desperately to comprehend your words. But he still feels like he is wrapped in cotton, the lust cursing through his veins like honey. You ask him something, if he knows where your phone or keys are or something like this. His gaze is still a little hazy as he watches you walking further into the room. Your eyes widen slightly when you notice his half-lidded eyes fixed on you, almost deliriously.

“I didn’t see anything,” he mutters, his voice is strained and hoarse as he answers you.

“Uhm…Are you okay?” You ask, your face is painted with worry, as your eyes trail over his flustered face. 

No, he obviously isn’t fucking okay. He is far from it. Because now after he has thought about you he knows, no other fantasies will compare to the ones he has about you. 

Choso: 

“Thanks for letting me stay over,” you thank Choso before you say goodbye and head home. He mutters a goodbye and closes the door behind you. His walk is sluggish as he plops himself back on the couch. He buries his face in his hands, before he opens his eyes again. And then he sees it; the shirt he has lent you to sleep in. It’s placed right next to him, folded together neatly. 

A smile tugs at his lips as he thinks about how tidy you always are. He noticed that since a few months; you often creep into his mind and a smile appears on his lips like he is in love with you. But he isn’t of course. You’re just his friend. You two are friends. 

And when he lays in bed, late at night and he tosses and turns you often appear in his thoughts. He knows he shouldn’t do what he does then; moving his hand to palm his cock, ashamedly thinking of you. He always feels bad after he comes down from his high. He is sure he shouldn’t think about his friend in that way. 

And now his eyes are fixed on the shirt laying next to him. Choso can’t help wondering if you wore something underneath. He’s pretty sure that you weren’t. Just your panties and his t-shirt. He gulps. And before he knows it the shirt is in his hand. The material is soft, worn in from him. And now from you as well. His cheeks burn from the slight shame he feels but his hand moves nonetheless. 

He presses the material to his face, inhaling the scent. Your scent. He can smell you clearly. And now you come alive in his imagination, Choso remembers how you looked wearing his shirt. The loose fit not able to conceal your tits or the curve of your ass.

And without warning his cock strains against his sweatpants. He sighs and he proceeds like he always does, tugging his pants down hurriedly, just to get this over with. He is disappointed at himself for failing like this again, for failing to stop this sexual attraction he feels for you. He wraps his hand around his cock, almost angrily. 

He curses under his breath as he drags his fist up and down his cock, pumping into his swollen tip. He watches himself doing so for a few seconds. Then his thumb drags across his slit to collect the pre cum to smear it over his swollen tip. 

He imagines you laying here in his lap, his large hands coming down on your ass, again and again. He would continue spanking you until the red mark of his hand can be seen clearly. And then he would plunge his fingers inside of your pussy, feeling how wet you are. He would tell you how dirty you are for getting so wet, asking you if you do this with all of your friends. A groan rips past his slack jaw as he imagines fingering you slow and teasingly. His calloused fingers rubbing your sensitive clit until you beg him to finally fuck you. But he won’t; he will take his time with you. 

Choso increases the pace of his hand, urging himself closer to his orgasm. He thinks about you squirming in his lap as he thrusts his long fingers inside of you, again and again. He nearly feels your plush walls spasming around him, as you drip all over his fingers, even coating his wrist with your arousal. And he will continue to tease your clit until he has you gushing and whining. 

“Wanna fuck you so bad,” he mutters, as if you were actually there with him.

And in his fantasies you look at him with beseeching eyes, wanting him to finally pound into you. Choso imagines sinking inside of you, bottoming out, feeling you wrap around his leaking cock so heavenly. And he would fuck you deep into the mattress, your drool staining the fabric dark until his name is the only thing that you can moan. 

A whimper falls from his parted lips, the image of you screaming his name pushing him over the edge. His fist squeezes his cock impossibly tighter and with two fast pumps he cums. A deep groan falls from his lips, alongside your name, drawn out in a moan, like it so often does when he orgasms. His dark eyes fix on his hand, watching thick beads of cum sliding down his length, his hot cum dripping down his twitching balls. 

He chokes on a moan when he continuous to pump into his overly sensitive tip, smearing his cum messily all over his hand and throbbing dick. He shallowly thrusts up into his fist to ride out his high, not being able to let go of the thoughts about you. That is until he grits his teeth, hissing and whining quietly from the overstimulation. 

And you would probably not recognize your friend like that; his dark hair disheveled, his flustered face and the lust-drunk look in his eyes borderline feral. Normally, Choso is calm and collected, sometimes even withdrawn. But when he thinks about you like that he can’t keep himself quiet. At night or at day there are comments and sounds slipping past his lips he could never utter to you in real life, lewd, lecherous words. Desperate moans, breathless whimpers, choked groans as he gets lost in his depraved fantasies about you and your body, imagining drawing one orgasm from you after another. 

And when he comes down from his high, his clouded mind slowly turning back to his normal state, he feels the guilt again. He grimaces at his soiled hand. He should stop with that, he really should. But Choso already knows; he simply can’t.

©sweetdreamlandstuff

[saetoru]

✩ ‧₊˚ ✩。what’s mine is yours

synopsis. suguru is a good best friend—he shares everything. just this once, he shares you too

word count. 2.1k (it's short i promise)

contents. fem! reader, reader is suguru's girlfriend, minors do not interact, virgin satoru <3, cuckolding, fingering, safe sex (who am i ?? jk suguru would not let satoru hit raw lol), petnames (princess, baby, and sweetheart), suguru teaching satoru how to fuck <3

notes. dash pls look away. i am horny at 1 am

satoru, for all his big talk and loud front all these years, is still a virgin. suguru finds it a tad bit funny—but out of the kindness of his heart, he decides to help his best friend change that.

how? you, of course.

“be careful how you handle her,” suguru says with a sly smile, “she’s still my girlfriend—and i have to take care of her. isn’t that right, baby?” his gaze turns to you, finger stroking your cheek gently as you whimper.

“so wet,” satoru mumbles, fingers sinking curiously into your dripping cunt, flexing slowly to pump in and out of you as you whine. his fingers are long, maybe longer than suguru’s—but not nearly as skilled.

“yeah?” suguru chuckles, “bet you like that, huh? careful though, satoru—don’t get used to this. she’s still mine.”

suguru, the ever gracious best friend, has always been one to share. he decides perhaps he can extend the favor to include his girlfriend too—but you’re precious, sweet and kind and oh so doting. he can’t share you permanently. no, it’s a one time thing—after that, satoru will have to find his own perfect little pussy to savor.

“you really get all of this? all to yourself?” satoru marvels, thumbing your clit as you gasp, your hand reaching over to clutch at suguru’s pants. his hand rests over yours, thumb brushing over your knuckles as he hums soothingly.

“yeah,” your boyfriend grins, “every day. whenever i want. right, baby?”

“uh huh,” you nod—and then you cut yourself off with a squeal when satoru’s fingertips brush against that sweet spot deep within your walls, making you flutter around him with a tight squeeze. he doesn’t find it as easily as suguru, doesn’t know how to angle and curl the tips of his fingers when he sinks into you.

and fuck, satoru thinks, suguru is so damn lucky.

“she’s a vocal one,” he chuckles, “you’ve been living the dream.”

“you should hear her when you use your mouth,” suguru chuckles—how embarrassing. you want to crawl onto his lap and hide away in his neck, hide away from satoru’s eyes that are watching you so carefully. satoru has good eyes—the best, even.

but you also like it. for some reason, when his eyes stare down at you with a darkened shade of blue you’ve never seen before, you feel the slick pooling from your core, smearing down your thighs and glossing over his fingers, wetter than ever.

satoru has that effect on people—even if he is a bit inexperienced.

“do i get to do that too?” he asks, sending your boyfriend a lopsided smirk.

suguru raises a brow, tightening his hand’s grip on yours before grunting a low, “don’t get ahead of yourself, satoru.”

“you said it yourself, suguru,” he chuckles, “what’s mine is yours.”

“not her,” suguru growls. and then, sweetly, he turns to you before pecking your forehead with a gentleness he keeps for only you. “you ready, princess?”

“princess,” satoru repeats thoughtfully, “yeah i guess you’re a bit of a princess, aren’t ya?”

“p-please,” you sniffle, tugging on suguru’s wrist, “need more, sugu.”

“yeah? he’s not doing his job, is he?” suguru pouts in sympathy, but his eyes are laced with amusement—like he’s enjoying the show in front of him. you’re sure he is, if the throbbing erection he sports is of any hint.

“hey,” satoru gasps, wounded, “i’m doing exactly what you told me—”

“here,” suguru throws him a condom, cutting him off, “put that on. you’re out of your mind if you think you’re feeling her. that’s only for me.”

“fine,” satoru huffs. you watch as he rolls the condom over his neglected cock—it’s red, swollen and aching, flushed at the tip and drooling with pre cum as he hisses when his hand wraps around it.

it’s pretty, you’ll give him that. satoru isn’t as thick as suguru, but he makes up for it by being a bit longer. he curves a bit with a thick vein running along the underside of his cock, balls heavy as they hang painfully, achingly full. he’s neatly trimmed—messy white strands of hair unlike suguru’s dark ones. you don’t know which one you prefer, if you could even pick one of you had to.

you watch with wide, fascinated eyes as his mouth parts with a low gasp when he accidentally teases the tip a bit as he clumsily works the rubber over himself. he’s sensitive at the head—just like suguru. gives those sweet little breathy whimpers when his slit is thumbed at. it’s cute, you think, maybe not as cute as suguru—but it’s still pretty adorable.

“go slow when you go in,” suguru warns, “if you hurt her, i’ll kill you.”

“she’s tough, she can take it,” satoru pats your cheek with a sly grin, “aren’t you, princess?”

“watch it, satoru,” you hear suguru growl, “don’t get too comfortable.”

“aw, it’s all in good fun, right? she’s taking it so well.”

you do take it well—you let satoru’s fingers play with your for ages, let him learn where to find that sensitive spot is in the back of your walls, let him rub your clit slowly—even if you ache for those fast circles suguru always gifts you with. and now, you’re even letting him slide into you, slowly but surely, inching his hardened cock into your impatiently wet cunt with agonizing patience.

“that feel good, baby?” suguru asks you once satoru’s buried to the hilt, splitting you almost in two as you breathe unevenly and nod. and satoru? well, he’s not faring any better—grit teeth and clenched jaw, panting harshly as he focuses on not cumming right then and there.

you’re tight—way tighter than his hand, and way warmer too. fuck suguru for making him wear the condom, and fuck suguru for landing such a perfect pussy too. he doesn’t know how he’s meant to go back to using his fist after a taste of this.

“you can move now—go slow at first, and then go faster when she’s close. she likes that. and don’t forget this,” suguru’s hand travels to your clit, giving a soft little pat that makes you whimper before he rubs it with those quick circles you love so much. “she likes when you touch this too. they all do—so when you get yourself your own girl to fuck, make sure you remember that.”

“i know what the clit is,” satoru grumbles, “i’ve watched porn, y’know.”

“i bet,” suguru chuckles, “is this your first time seeing a clit in person? pretty, isn’t it? everything about her is pretty.”

“suguru,” you whine in embarrassment, burying your head back into the pillow as much as you can, “you talk so much.”

“baby,” he insists, “someone has to humble him. he’s all bark and no bite.”

“i can too bite,” satoru grunts—and to prove it, he angles his hips to pull out, almost completely, before thrusting back into you. you cry out—clutching suguru’s hand tightly as your tits bounce. satoru let’s out a choked moan, gasping as you squeeze around his sensitive cock, eyes fluttering shut with pleasure.

it’s so good. suguru has it so good. you’re so good—perfect, even.

“f-fuck, more, need more,” you sob, and because suguru can’t help himself, his hand grabs at your tit, pinching and tugging at your nipple as he lets you squeeze his other hand in yours. “please, please—faster.”

“you heard her,” suguru hums, “she needs it faster.”

satoru’s good at fucking you—for his first time, he’s got your back arching and toes curling rather quickly. the blunt head of his cock brushes against your sweet spot with ease, long and curved enough to nudge against it with every roll of his hips. of course, no one knows how to fuck you until you see stars like suguru—but he comes to a close second.

your gasps have turned into long, wanton moans, and satoru moans in sync, head falling next to yours on the pillow as his breath fans over your shoulder with every harsh pant. his hips are rutting into you, slamming desperately as he feels you squeeze around him with every deep thrust. you can hear the squelching sound of your arousal as he bullies into your dripping cunt, smeared along the insides of your thighs. it’s messy, it’s rushed, it’s desperate and it feels so, so good.

satoru has never felt this good—and you? well….you have to admit you’ve never felt like this before either. it’s new, maybe not better, but certainly not worse.

“oh, fuck,” satoru groans, voice cracking as he whines against your shoulder, “f-fuck your so tight—‘s so good. so, so good….’m not g-gonna last much longer.”

“are you close, baby?” suguru strokes your cheek, watching as your eyes squeeze and your face twists in pleasure, “can’t have him be the only one cumming. that’s no good.”

“close! ‘m…’m so close, sugu. gonna cum,” you gasp as you nod.

if satoru wasn’t so lost on the feeling of your tight walls constricting around him, fluttering so perfectly that he almost feels like he can’t move, he might have protested that you addressed suguru and not him—he’s the one fucking you after all. it should be him you’re telling that you’re close, not your boyfriend. just because suguru is your boyfriend doesn’t mean he’s the one who gets to bear the reward for making you cum.

right now, that’s satoru.

“aw c’mon, sweetheart, you’re gonna—o-oh, shit,” he cuts himself off with a breathy moan, “you’re gonna make me cry. say my name too, yeah?”

“satoru,” suguru warns lowly.

“see? jus’ like that. yeah, pretty? say it just how suguru did,” satoru, murmurs against your ear, biting your earlobe softly.

your hand, much to suguru’s dismay, tugs from his grasp so your arms can wrap around satoru’s neck and cling to his large figure as he towers over you, fucking you mercilessly. his pace is frenzied now—that steady ache building up in his throbbing length is about to burst, and that coil in your belly feels like it’ll snap any second too.

“s-satoru, please—‘m c-close, so close,” you mewl, “wanna cum.”

he grins, blue eyes raking over your body as his thumb finds your clit and rubs harshly over it in that way you’ve been craving.

“yeah? you close, pretty? ‘s good to hear. i am too,” he murmurs lowly, finishing the sentence off with a shaky gasp as you squeeze around him.

and then you fall over the edge—he sends you hurtling into your high before you can ever register it. it’s new, satoru thinks—it makes his hips stutter for a second when he feels you spasm around his cock like that, sucking him in and squeezing around him enough that he chokes on a whimper and cums right then and there too. he thinks it’s a miracle he held out just long enough to cum after you, thanking anyone who’s listened to his prayers of lasting. it’s almost impossible not to finish immediately with how your walls hug around his length.

by now, his hips have lost any rhythm they might’ve had before, sloppily rutting into you as he desperately rides out his orgasm, thick ropes of cum spilling into the condom that separates him from fully feeling your warmth. he’s sensitive—his cock is throbbing even as he lets go of that built up tension in the form of white, hot release. you milk him until he’s almost certain he’s got nothing left to give, dry and worn out from the way you pulse so harshly around him.

“so good—m-make me feel so good,” satoru breathes in wonder as he finishes, thumb slowing itself along your clit before his body slumps over yours.

it’s hot, it’s sweaty, it’s a mess of limbs as he rests over you, still quivering over your body from the aftershocks of his orgasm. it’s earth shattering—how you make him feel. has he really been missing out on this all this time?

“you’re heavy,” you grumble, patting at his shoulder. he chuckles into your neck, catching his breath.

“yeah? heavier than suguru?”

“i’m careful enough to collapse next to her,” suguru mutters from the side.

“fuck, that was amazing,” satoru rolls over, sprawling himself on the mattress next to you, chest heaving as he breathes, “i see why suguru spoils you so much. you keep him happy, huh?”

“oh yes,” suguru drawls, eyes narrowing. gently, he grabs your wrist and tugs at you, making you sit up as you eye the bulge in his pants and the large wet spot of pre cum staining the fabric. “you’ll see just how happy she makes me in a second here—she’s good with her mouth too.”

idk what possessed me to write this i rly don't. all i know is i want them both carnally

NO PART TWO — please STOP commenting that