ames, she/her, currently only jjk and hq blog (with a splash of bnha), nsfw/sfw blog, my inbox is open 24/7 so you’re always open to interact with me!! please read my [headcanon rules] before requesting !! (*▔＾▔*)
previous user # iwaizumiya
˚ ˚ ♡ ⋆｡˚CURRENT CONCERN˚ ♡ ⋆｡˚ haikyuu fandom on here is too dead for my liking....
The twins! There’s nerdjo 🤭and then there’s fratjo too ig, I was really excited when i saw nerdjo trending so I grabbed the opportunity to draw him hehe
The fastest way into Satoru’s wallet pants heart... wallet, is a trick you learned from Suguru early on in your relationship with them.
You keep refreshing the tab on your phone hoping to see the price tag come down on the item of your desires but if anything it feels like it’s only going up, up, up and out of your grasp. You sigh and lock your phone, setting it in front of you on the mattress. You bury your head in your arms, letting go of the dream of owning the illusive item.
Strong hands grip your hips and flip you onto your back, Suguru’s playful expression engulfing your view as he lays on top of you. His face falls when yours doesn’t light up, asking you gently, “What’s wrong?”
“It’s dumb,” you say, shaking your head.
“It’s not dumb if you’re upset. Tell me.” His expression is so soft, so gentle that all you can do is sigh again and confess, showing him the listing on your phone.
“Ask Satoru.” Suguru makes it sound so simple.
Your cheeks heat at the idea of it alone. Realistically, you know you can ask him for anything and he’d happily give it. The insane price tag is what holds you back. There is no way you could ask for something that expensive.
“I can’t.”
“You can.” Suguru sits up at your hesitation, his knees on either side of your hips. “Listen, he’s just a man with a stupid amount of money and what do men with a stupid amount of money like to do? Spend it on pretty things.” He leans forward, his face in yours again to press a kiss to your jaw as he whispers, “That’s us.”
“I can’t,” you repeat, tilting your head away to get a better view of the man sitting on top of you.
Suguru rolls his eyes and huffs. “Do you want it?”
“Not tha-”
“Do you want it?”
“I don’t need it.”
“I didn’t ask if you need it. Yes or no, do you want it?” He raises his eyebrows, making a poor attempt at not smiling while he waits for your answer.
You swallow down your shame, avoiding eye contact as you admit, “yes,” through gritted teeth.
“See, that wasn’t so hard.” He presses a kiss to your lips and stands.
You push yourself up on your elbows and watch him free his hair from the bun he keeps it in, long hair falling over his shoulders and down his back. You gulp when his shirt comes off next, nothing you haven’t seen before but god, he’s fucking breathtaking.
6’3 of lean muscle, raven locks down to his waist, sharp jawline and cheekbones.
The kind of beauty that wars have been fought over.
Suguru takes your hand and pulls you to your feet.
“Let me show you how to charm the man who has the money,” he says, guiding you down the hallway and into the living room where Satoru sits on the couch, lost in whatever’s displayed on his phone screen.
You lean against the living room wall, observing the way Suguru moves across the room to settle into Satoru’s lap. He plucks Satoru’s phone from his hand and tosses it to the other cushion, commanding his attention. Satoru’s face blushes a bright, pretty pink as he takes in the sight of Suguru and all of his raw sex appeal.
“Toru, baby,” Suguru purrs, pressing himself closer to Satoru, guiding his hands to his waist. “I need your credit card.”
“Mmm, yeah?” Satoru hums, his hands roaming over Suguru’s sides and around his back to lock him in place. His pupils are already swallowing his irises, glazed over by lust. “What for?”
Suguru cages him against the back of the couch, his hair falling in a curtain around them. He rolls his hips down into Satoru’s just to hear him choke on the air he tries to suck in when their dicks brush; they’re only half hard but it’s enough. “That doesn’t really matter, does it?”
“You’re gonna bleed me dry, gorgeous.” Satoru surges up to plant his lips on Suguru’s, just for Suguru to pull back.
“Who says it’s for me?” Their eyes turn to you, still leaning against the wall. You swallow thickly, feeling blood rush to your cheeks. Satoru chuckles and returns his attention to Suguru, attempting to bring their lips together again. Suguru grabs his jaw before they can connect, just barely letting them brush when he says, “Ah- card first.”
Your clit throbs watching the interaction, completely hypnotized by Suguru the same way Satoru is. You’re pulled out of your trance and forward by Suguru holding out a little silver piece of plastic to you that you take too long to realize is Satoru’s card.
You stumble over your own feet on you way to the couch, gingerly taking the card from Suguru’s out stretched hand. You whisper a ‘thank you,’ and you’re not even sure who you’re thanking or what for, but you press a kiss to Suguru’s cheek regardless as his tongue explores Satoru’s mouth.
You turn to head back to the bedroom and enter the digits on the card into your phone on a somewhat questionable website, only to be stopped by Satoru’s hand grabbing your wrist.
When you turn back to face him, Suguru is leaving open mouthed kisses over his jaw and neck, his chest heaving as he pushes his hips up into Suguru’s.
“At least kiss me before you rob me blind.” He smirks up at you, eyes half lidded. His mouth falls open around a deep moan when Suguru finds a particularly sensitive stretch of skin, and there’s that throb in your clit again.
Your breathing is becoming just as uneven as Satoru’s. You sit next to them, your knees tucked under you and lean forward, your lips capturing Satoru’s.
“Thank you, Toru,” you whisper against his lips when you part.
slice of life | bakugo, k. + midoriya, i. (REUPLOAD)
ꉂ ᵎᵎ cw/tw: 18+, crack, smut, fluff— we got it all here… this is a lot of my humor therefore self indulgent… if u think dot is funny then everything should be awesome ❤️, poly!bkdk, softdom!izuku, switch(lowkey bratty…)!katsuki, switch(maybe?)!fem!afab!bratty!reader, reader is a silly jokester type, gay as a reclaimed insult, non-serious jokes about suicide (kys, kms) and violence, suggestive jokes
ꉂ ᵎᵎ a/n: lowkey i had SMAS in mind for this, you can think it’s SMAS or just in general poly!bkdk ^_^ first time making a SMAU if people like these i can do more or. Explode too whtaever u guys want. also i didn’t know if anime pfps or realistic ones were better
ꉂ ᵎᵎ a/n pt 2: i am such a fucking chud HOW DO I DO THIS IDK
ꉂ ᵎᵎ synopsis: a compliation of poly!bkdk x reader text messages
summary! after the fight, satoru ignores you for what feels like an eternity out of his own selfishness. then, after shoko drags you to a party he's also attending, he gets ferally jealous over his friend nanami whose getting a bitttt too close for comfort, taking a body shot off of his sweet 'girlfriend's' body. but, does he really have a say in this after what he did? (nanami swoops in and saves reader.) (angst to comfort, messy, toxic relationship dynamics, gojo is a fuckwit still) !! soooo ooc for gojo.
disclaimer: this is all unhealthy, do not chase this and/or leave comments about it. i'm well aware, and so is everyone else, trust me 😭 didn't like it? stop reading and don't leave hateful comments 💔
wc: 7k || inspo from my mean!sukuna x shy!nerd!reader
satoru had handled this situation in the worse possible way, he knew that.
he knew how bad he fucked up, how much of an asshole he was for crashing out that hard. really, he knew!
but, like all immature men, he couldn't stop himself from going that extra mile by blatantly ignoring you after that night.
not because he didn't like you, god no. because he just couldn't deal with that look in your eye, the one that said 'i know i shouldn't be with you, but i'm too attached to let you go.' he hated it.
so, he drowned his worries in alcohol and parties, because what else was he supposed to do? talk about how he felt? yuck. that wasn't really something he was capable of.
in his defense, he didn't let another girl touch him from that point on. (sure, he flaunted around shirtless for all of them to gawk at, but looking never hurt anyone, right?) whether or not that was because he felt guilty for being in a relationship and acting single or if he really valued your feelings was yet to be determined..
things were different on your side of things.
you knew how fucked up this situation was. the only issue? you didn't know what to do. you'd never been in a relationship before, let alone had someone treat you like that, so this was tricky.
you did the thing you did when all things were tilting sideways, you called shoko.
"he WHAT?!?" oh wow, two people yelling in your ear in one week, perfect.
"i just… i dunno shoko… what do i even do?"
"shit… i don't know, but that mother fucker has me messed up if he thinks i'm not gonna tell everyone about this. fuckkkk no."
your face went red immediately. "shoko, maybe don't tell-"
"i won't, i wont. i'm just pissed off, who does he think he is? talking to you like that?"
"i don't know shoko… i'm so confused on what to do.."
shoko knew what to do, she knew exactly what to do. despite him being an insufferable pos, gojo was one of shokos friends. (she uses the word 'friend' very loosely.) so she knew how to hit him hard.
"are you mad? does what he did make you upset?"
"yes, i'm so mad, i just don't know what to do with my feelings." you sigh. you weren't confrontational, nor boisterous. your reaction of anger felt like a slight blip compared to most, but that doesn't mean you didn't feel it just as much.
"you're mad, you're upset, i get it. what he did was fucked up, y/n. you and me both know this isn't going anywhere, so, why not piss him off royally before inevitably ending things with that fuck wit?"
you thought about that, for a long time. sure, if you were anything like yuki or maki, you'd be out at some function screwing his best friend. but you weren't like that. you didn't know the first thing about emotional warfare. all you knew is that you felt angry, not only did he hurt you, but he had the audacity to ignore you now of all times, not come over, miss your calls?
no, shoko was right.
"what do you think i should do?"
~
11pm, saturday.
"this isn't want i had in mind.." you sigh shyly, holding shoko's arm as she pulls you through the rowdy crowd packed full into this loud family type of house. you weren't confrontational dressed in a cute, shot dress that really put you on display. totally out of your comfortable zone but shoko insisted this was critical to success.
"don't worry, you'll be fine. just stick with me and we'll figure it out from there." she reply's, yelling over the shitty drake song they had bumping over the loudspeaker.
“oh, by the way, he’s here,” she says boredly, “satoru showed up like an hour ago according to yuki.”
your stomach drops to the center of the earth, because wow. this was getting really real, really fast. shoko squeezes your arm, she's steady as always. “don’t freak out. this is perfect.”
you wince at her. “perfect?”
“yeah. you wanna get under his skin? just exist. you don’t even gotta try.” she nudges you toward the living room. “you’re cute as fuck. guys notice you without you doing anything, y/n. he knows that. let him deal with it when he finally clocks you. watch him switch up from ignoring you, to falling to your feet. pathetic fucking man.” she mutters bitterly under her smokey breath.
you push a strand of hair behind your ear shyly. “i don’t know how to… make someone jealous.”
“you don’t have to.” she guides you through a cluster of people and toward an open couch near the wall. “just sit. someone will come talk to you within, hmm… ten minutes? trust.”
shoko pulls you down onto the couch, and you sink into the leather trying to get comfy. she sits there, looking laid back as fuck like usual, lighting up a cigarette indoors because she seriously couldn't give less of a shit. you watch the people in the lounge mingle and dance, it all looked so easy for them, it was making you nervous. god, how were you ever gonna pull this off when looking at people socialising made you jittery?
shoko snaps her tongue and nods her chin toward the hallway. “told you.”
you look up just as two men push through the people. the first is tall with dark hair that hangs over his eyes, a black hoodie half zipped over a nice, tight shirt. choso. you’d seen him once or twice around campus, he was a plug everyone was chill with.
the second is quite the opposite, hes got blond hair with beautiful, broad shoulders. he's dressed very well for a random house party with a black dress shirt rolled up to show off his muscular forearms and a pair of well fitting jeans. yum. nanami. you’d never talked to him, only heard his name in passing when gojo complained about someone being too serious in their friend group.
they spot you and ieiri pretty quick.
choso’s face lifts in recognition at shoko. “yo.”
she smiles. “sukuna's been talking up your stuff, got any on you?”
that’s all it takes for him to flop onto the couch next to her, "y'know it."
they talk about some new strain he picked up, shoko starts bargaining, choso rolls his eyes, both of them are in their own small bubble, it seems.
then nanami comes closer, he sits on your other side but not too close, not really far, either. it's a good, respectful distance. he gives you a small smile. “evening.”
oh wow. his voice.
you manage a quiet “hi.” through the nerves creeping up on you.
he looks over you like some hot professor grading a good students paper, then he rubs the back of his neck, “i haven’t seen you here before, sweetheart.”
you look down at your palms. “i… uh, don’t usually come to parties.”
“that tracks,” he says. “you don’t have the whole soulless glare a lot of these people have.”
oh, so he's funny too? your face gets redder and redder, you're so glad the lights are low. this man was slowly becoming the perfect candidate for ticking off satoru, who of which you were yet to spot, that scared you..
“what’s your major?” he smiles, knocking you out of your little mind blip.
you tell him softly, looking up at him through the curled lashes shoko did on you earlier, trying not to get drowned out by lady gaga singing through the speaker.
he tilts toward you so he can hear you better, but he doesn’t crowd you. “huh, that suits you,” he says. “girls as breathtaking as you always pick that one.”
and a flirt? yeeeeesh.
he's so calm and steady with the way he annunciates his speech. you’re used to loud mouths like satoru, guys bumping into you or shouting over each other. nanami feels like the opposite of every boy in this house.
nanami's usually very blunt with women, but for some reason, he feels so drawn to you. his first instinct when he saw you sitting on the couch was to scoop you up, take you upstairs, and keep you safe for the rest of your life, you definitely had that aura about you.
he clears his throat, then nods toward your dress, appreciating your figure briefly. “so, did shoko drag you here?”
your shy laugh answers before you do. “yeah.”
shit, her laugh is adorable. “thought so. she has a habit of dropping her friends into situations they’re not prepared for.”
you look over at her. she’s leaning into choso now talking about prices, both of them relaxed. “i… guess she thinks i need it, thinks i'm too shy.” you say, twirling at a strand of your hair, hiding behind the real reason you were here..
nanami hums in thought, just a small sound of acknowledgment. “there’s nothing wrong with quiet,” he says. i love quiet. “people mistake it for weakness. it isn’t.”
you smile softly. “you, uhm, you kinda talk like a guidance counselor.”
that earns a real reaction from him. a short exhale that might be a laugh, though he restrains it like everything else about him. “i get that a lot.”
your nerves dissipate a tad.
he keeps the conversation going without forcing anything. he asks about your classes, if you’re enjoying them, what you like outside of school. he listens, deeply, with full attention, his eyes on yours, his posture angled in a way that tells you he cares about your answers.
nobody ever does that.
you peek at him when he asks about your hobbies. he waits patiently for you to answer, no teasing, and no rushing. he was taking your personality so well.
you tell him you like to bake when you're stressed out, or how you like to go to different cafe sports with shoko.
“what lovely hobbies you have, y/n? was it?.”
“y-yeah, it's y/n.”
"such a pretty name."
you let out another shy laugh. “thank you.”
“it suits you,” he says. your heart makes a small, confused jump. you aren’t used to compliments that feel this gentle. not thrown out like confetti. not made as jokes, just nice and honest.
nanami throws an arm around the back of the couch, but doesn't touch your shoulders. he still keeps a respectful ways away, somehow still felling like he's close. you, by instinct, shift closer to him , your face blushing a deeper pink.
he notices your movement and smiles, “you’re adorable,” he says with his voice dropping down into that sexy drawl he does. “sorry if that’s too forward, your face is just so pretty.”
you're sure you'd died and acceded to heaven, because what? there was no way in hell this gorgeous, calm, 6'3 hunk of a man was being so outwardly flirty towards you. you knew you were cute, but not at all charismatic, this all felt so foreign to you.
you nod your head. “thank yo.” you breathe out.
he studies your reaction but not in a predatory way. he's more curious like he’s trying to get you without overstepping. “you’re not used to hearing that, are you?”
you look down. “not… like that.”
his eyes linger on your face, he's studying your every reaction. “you should hear it endlessly.”
you don’t know what to do with that.
and then, he adds quietly, “i don’t usually approach anyone at parties. but you caught my eye, sweetheart.”
by now your shyness was loosening inch by inch. he’s handsome in a toned down kinda way. he's dressed cleanly, with his hair styled like he actually tries, a face too pretty to be real but serious enough to balance it all out.
you didn’t know this type of guy existed here.
you didn’t know someone like him would look at someone like you.
"hm, if you don't mind my asking, are you romantically involved? i apologies if that's too much, i know we just met. i'd only like to make my intentions clear. respectfully, of course."
you try to answer, but you really, really don't want to. how were you supposed to tell this man you had a boyfriend, one that you were planning on dumping and that you only came here to make him jealous, and worst of all, he was the man you subconsciously picked out to do the job? yeah, no. you stayed silent with the same blush coating your cheeks.
nanami knows what you're saying without saying it. you most likely had someone you were with/talking too, but they were 'underperforming', as he liked to put it. you had to be at least a little interested in him, right? otherwise you wouldn't of been rubbing your thigh up against his like a needy puppy. hm, that'd do for him. he'd knock you off your pretty little feet, then swoop you away. you were too cute to pass up, exactly his type.
he takes pity on your flustered state and shifts the subject. “do parties overwhelm you?”
you nod before you speak. “a little.”
“well, you’re handling it perfectly.”
you shake your head with a nervous giggle. “i’m just… trying not to think too hard, i guess.”
nanami smiles for the millionth time that night, (very unusual for him.). “you’re doing much better than you think.”
your fingers twist together. “why are you being so nice?”
“because i want to be,” he answers without hesitation. “and because you look like you’re trying. that deserves a little kindness.”
you glance at his profile. he’s watching the room again, protective in a quiet way. you think about how different he feels from satoru, theres no chaos, no big bright spotlight, no pushing boundaries for the sake of it. nanami sits beside you like he’s zip tying you to the couch, giving you a center point to breathe around.
he looks over at you again. “if it’s too much at any point, tell me. i’ll walk you outside.”
nobody has ever said something like that to you in a space like this. not with that level of sincerity, not satoru, ever.
you nod, suddenly very aware of the point in where your thighs meet. “okay.”
nanami leans his elbow on his knee, posture relaxed yet attentive. “you’re doing fine.”
you look at him and something in your chest shifts. not dramatic, not jolting, just a calm pull. like he’s showing you a version of attention you never knew you were allowed to have.
“thanks,” you whisper.
he gives another small smile, eyes dipping to your lips for a second before he looks away again.
and that’s where everything starts to rattle around and change subtly. you were most definitely falling for this man.
you drift a little as he talks, still keyed into him but pulled by a tug in the corner of your vision. you glance past a pair of guys arguing over pong rules and see satoru near the kitchen doorway, freakishly tall frame tipped toward sukuna as they talk, your heart breaks from the sight of him, the thought of your last message being left on seen while he was out here doing… this.
he’s cackling at something with his head thrown back, he looks fine. way too fine. and that upsets you more than anything he'd done to you so far.
your shoulders decide to curl in before you can stop yourself. it’s small, but nanami notices.
“hey, something wrong?” he asks quietly, leaning in just a bit so the noise of the room doesn’t swallow you up.
you shake your head then sigh because lying feels pointless. he already read you once tonight, and somehow that makes it easier to let it spill.
“i didn’t come here for fun,” you say, fingers rubbing at the hem of your dress. “i’m kind of… dealing with something. or trying to.”
he waits with that appreciative stare, he's left an open space for you to step into if you want.
you take it.
“i… uh…" you sigh and spit it out, "gojo is my boyfriend,” you start, nanami’s brow lifts at that, like he’s running through every memory he has of satoru and coming up short. “or… i don’t know if he is, honestly. he was. we were together. and then we had a little…” fight? no, you can't call it a fight, more like a humiliation ritual where you sat there, got berated, then hugged him because your heart was too big for a man so small minded.
you look up to see him staring at you so sweetly, he's not trying to juice it out of you, he just looks like the safest person to spill your guts to, so you do. you tell this new found man everything, the words come out uneven, and maybe a little strained, but they come.
you tell him about seeing the video of that girl taking a shot off of his body, how he was smiling and laughing while his girl was at home waiting, how when he got home and saw you watching the video he had no idea was taken, he went off at you. how all you could do was apologies for him, because you knew he'd never utter the words himself.
then you mention the way he looked guilty after, the way he seemed ready to fix it.
and how he then spent the entire week ignoring you anyway..
nanami doesn’t interrupt. he just listens, elbow resting against the back of the couch, posture relaxed but attention locked on you. listening. intently listening.
“shoko suggested coming here and… i don't know, make him feel what he did to me… but,” you say, rubbing your hands together. “but it feels so pointless now. i feel silly.”
nanami’s expression sours. he seems more thoughtful like he’s reassessing everything he ever assumed about his 'friend'.
“gojo, huh? he never mentioned you,” he says, calm as ever. “not once.”
you nod, sadly. “yeah. shoko said he wasn’t exactly open about our… thing.”
nanami studies your eyes. “hm. that tracks,” he mutters bitterly, more to himself than to you.
you look down at your hands again. “it’s embarrassing… i.. i let him treat me like that, and i hate it.”
nanami’s voice turns from passive aggressive to reassuring in a heartbeat.
“you didn’t do anything wrong,” he says. “you trusted someone who didn’t know how to be decent with that trust. that’s his problem, not yours.”
he was a good therapist, you'd give him that. all the stress of this situation felt like it was evaporating under his thought out assessment.
he studies your face once more. “you’re way too sweet for him,” he says plainly. “and too pretty. too beautiful for someone who doesn’t appreciate what he has.”
you blink up at him, stunned. he doesn’t say it like a line. it doesn’t sound like some cheesy tactic to get you flustered, even though it definitely does. he says it like he’s stating a fact he can’t quite believe gojo overlooked.
“i’m serious,” he adds when you don’t answer immediately. “you deserve someone who actually shows up. someone who knows how lucky he is.”
nanami feels like the opposite of satoru in every possible way. grounded, warm in a quiet, unshowy way. he makes up space instead of taking it all and throwing it around.
you look past nanami’s shoulder for a second and catch satoru again. he’s chugging his drink, leaning into sukuna’s shoulder as they argue about something stupid. he looks the same as he always does. the same boy who made you feel wanted, then discarded, then sorry for being upset.
he hasn’t looked your way once, was he seriously this oblivious to his surroundings?
“you came here hoping he’d notice you,” nanami says, voice gentle but straightforward. “but he’s too focused on himself to see what’s in front of him.”
you nod, looking up and catching his eye. normally, you're horrible with eye contact, but he was making it so easy.
nanami leans closer, enough that you hear him clearly even over the music. he looks at you with want in his gaze, it makes your thighs squeeze together.
“if you really want to get through to him,” he says slowly, “there are better ways than sitting here hoping he looks over.”
you tilt your head. “what do you mean?”
nanami doesn’t answer. instead, he sits back against the couch, eyes rolling just slightly as he glances across the room toward where gojo stands.
you’ve never seen nanami look intrigued before. but the expression fits him in a strangely attractive way.
when he looks back at you, his gaze is steady enough that your breath nearly stalls.
“i thinki know exactly how to help you, sweetheart. but only if you’re willing.”
you give him that look that says 'i'd do anything for you.'.
he smirks at your cute expression, then stands from the couch still holding your gaze, and then offers his hand. an invitation that makes your pulse skip for reasons you try not to think about.
when you take it, his fingers curl around your arm and he guides you through the crowd. he doesn’t drag you. he leads you through gently, he knows exactly where he wants you and why.
you follow him straight toward the kitchen where half the house seems to have gathered. the counter is cluttered with cups and sticky spills, and a beer pong table is set up with an eager crowd around it. voices layer over each other, laughter juttering out as people cheer on whoever’s playing.
as soon as nanami steps inside the circle, “nanami! finally showed up,” yuji calls, bright as ever.
“look at this guy,” shiu adds, lifting his drink in greeting. “didn’t think you left the houe after sunset.”
toji bumps nanami’s shoulder as he passes. “thought you bailed on us tonight, old man.”
“you’re two years older than me,” nanami replies calmly, which only makes toji smile wider.
yuki waves from the corner. “don’t scare him off. we need him sober enough to beat sukuna at pong.”
the energy is loud and tough, it’s impossible not to feel it pulling you in. nanami’s hand stays on your arm just a second longer before he lets go, placing you beside him like that’s exactly where you should be.
people return to their game, taking shots when they miss cups. there’s a small clutter of people watching, and the more chaotic it gets, the bigger the crowd grows.
nanami leans down, voice close and quiet at your ear, soft enough that it feels private even in the middle of all this noise.
“do you trust me?”
you look up at him, and it’s embarrassingly easy to answer. maybe it’s the way he looks at you like you’re someone worth taking seriously. maybe it’s the steadiness of him, the way you don’t feel lost near him. maybe it’s just because he’s unfairly attractive and you’re not immune to men with good shoulders and forearms.
“yes,” you say before you can second guess it. “i do.”
his smiles small and certain, he already knew you’d say that. “good.”
he steps away to speak to toji, who listens with a grin, eyes flicking between you and nanami. then toji’s mouth pulls into a slow, wicked smirk.
“alright, listen up!” toji shouts, slapping his palm against the table until everyone quiets down a bit. “we’re switching games. body shots.”
groans, cheers, catcalls.
you blink, heat gathering under your skin as you stare at nanami. because you know. of course you know. he’s not exactly subtle about the direction this is going. oh god.
“rules are simple,” toji continues. “pairs do rock paper scissors. loser takes a shot out of the other’s collarbone.”
the crowd reacts immediately, already invested. people elbow each other, laughing, pushing friends toward the table.
you swallow. “nanami…”
he doesn’t push you forward. he just stands beside you, close enough that you catch the faint warmth of him. “just watch,” he says quietly. “it's not your turn yet, pretty.”
yet.
the word almost knocks your knees out.
toji and yuki are up first since toji called it. they face each other, hands ready.
“best out of one,” toji says.
they throw.
yuki does paper, toji does scissors, yuki loses.
toji leans back against the cleared space of the table, he hollows out his shoulder with his shirt collar tugged aside as yuji pours vodka into the dip of his collarbone. the line of his body draws attention, the sharp cut of muscle on display. yuki rolls her eyes but steps forward, brushing her hair back before dipping her head and taking the shot.
guys cheer, girls whistle, someone screams that yuki is a legend.
next up is yuki and maki because yuki refuses to back down after losing round one. they face off again, hands ready.
yuki loses. again.
maki smirks, tilting his head as she tugs her strap down just slightly to reveal the spot where the shot will be poured. toji cheers dramatically, encouraging the room to get louder, he loved commanding attention.
when yuki leans in, the men in the crowd lose their minds, whooping and hollering like they’ve never seen two women do anything mildly suggestive in their lives.
you shift on your feet, flustered and nervous, trying not to think about what nanami has planned. because you’re pretty sure you know. and you’re even more sure you’re not prepared for it.
people are pressing closer, gathering from the hallway and the living room. you spot choso weaving through the crowd with shoko at his side, both of them curious enough to head straight toward the commotion.
shoko catches your eye, lifts a brow, and mouths, what the hell is happening?
you just shrug.
manami stands tall next to you with his thumbs hooked in his pockets, he's looking over the crowd with a level of focus that makes your stomach knot up.
then he stiffens ever so slightly, you follow his eyes.
gojo is there. he’s near the center of the group now, easy to spot, easy to hear. he looks like he belongs here, like nothing’s wrong in his world. not a single sign he even knows you walked into the room.
you hated how bad this hurt.
nanami watches your face fall and a sense of anger shoots throughout his body.
his eyes turn challenging, it’s the first real sign that he’s about to do something.
he wraps his big, strong hand around yours, he studies your face one last time, checking for any sign you’ve changed your mind.
you nod before he even asks, because you really want this, not even for the sake of making satoru feel something, at this point you're content with doing whatever nanami wanted.
that’s all he needs.
he guides you toward the table lightly. conversations flatten as people notice the two of you stepping into the center of the circle. someone whistles when they get a proper look at you under the kitchen light. someone else nudges a friend and points, already stirring things up. "she's so cute."
toji clocks it and chuckles like he’s just been handed the best toy in the house.
“alright,” he calls out, waving his cup in the air, “we got a new pair.”
you watch as the people push closer and become more intrigued, more commotion than before.
gojo’s head snaps over.
his laugh dies. his smile stops. he freezes so cleanly it’s almost funny, except nothing about it feels light. he stares like his brain needs a second to catch up to what he’s seeing.
you. here. at the table. next to nanami?
and nanami isn’t backing away.
your chest thumps with adrenaline, but you force yourself to keep your eyes from switching to that pest.
nanami steps right infront of you, his broad chest and muscular torso blocking your sight so you face him instead of the man burning a hole into you from across the kitchen.
two of his fingers brush your chin, pushing so you're looking up at him with that beautiful expression.
“trust me,” he mumbled enough that only you hear it. "i'll be gentle with you, sweetheart. i promise"
you melt into his touch and nod.
toji barks out, “rock, paper, scissors!”
the chant picks up around you, everyone watching as you and nanami hold out your hands. you throw, nanami throws too.
he loses.
and you hear some 'ooouuu's' from the crowd.
a wave of noise rises, people cheering, hollering, leaning in to see what happens next. nanami doesn’t look bothered at all. in fact, he looks like he planned it from the beginning, a slow smirk slipping across his face as he turns to you. yeah, he wanted this, he wanted to be the one to take the shot.
“come here,” he says.
he guides you toward the cleared section of the table holding your waist. you lean back as he directs, hands braced behind you. you feel so provocative in such a position, waiting for this man to suck at your neck, but you could care less in this moment.
“suck in your neck,” nanami says quietly, leaning in so only you hear him. “i’ll be gentle.” he reassures for the second time.
toji steps in with the bottle. he moves slower with you than he did with the others, pouring carefully into the hollow of your collarbone, the chilled liquor makes your jitter, but nanami steadies you, holding your waist still.
the blonde smiles at the sight of the alcohol sitting there ready for him to drink. you were a beautiful display, lying there all for him, it makes his chest blip and his face heat.
he leans in.
and he really takes his time about it, satoru was watching after all. he lowers his head slowly, caging your body in with a hand in either side of your torso against the table.
he dips his head down and sucks at the liquid.
his mouth is hot against your skin, his lips feel so good, so powerfully dominant, you try your best not to let out a sound.
he doesn’t drag it out too far, but he doesn’t rush it either. he stays just enough to make the room react exactly how he wants. the people are going nuts, mainly because nanami never did this sort of thing, he was strictly business no party, but seeing him indulge, especially with a girl as cute as you, it was mesmerising. for most people, of course, not satoru.
he was seething. he was watching this all play out with the most feral, jealous look on his face.
all he wanted to do was push through the crowd and pull you away from nanami. but how could he? firstly, no one was even aware the two of you were 'dating' because he kept it a secret, and secondly, he'd be the biggest hypocrite of the century… ignoring you for a week the dictating your life? after all, he had done this exact thing to you, and it was really dawning on him how fucked up this felt..
to add insult to injury, nanami goes further.
he pulls your body into his by your hips, and sucks at your neck long after he'd drank the liquor. nanami was practically kissing and sucking at your neck in front of a crowd that was eating it the fuck up.
gojo sees nothing but red fury.
at first he’s frozen, still trying to compute. then comes the confusion, hitting sharp. and then anger. real anger. he looks between you and nanami like he’s watching something he wasn’t supposed to see, like someone reached inside his ribs and yanked something out.
he can’t look away.
he doesn’t blink.
he’s furious.
but underneath all of that, he’s panicking.
nanami knows he’s watching. he lifts his head slowly, wiping the corner of his mouth with the back of his knuckle. the room is still loud, but somehow the air right around you feels cut clean, like a line has been drawn.
nanami looks at you first, making sure you’re okay. flustered as hell, but fine.
then he flips his head around, his eyes lock with satorus, and he gives the white haired a big, cocky smile.
.
“what the fuck was that?!”
gojo had marched through the crowd like a storm, grabbed your wrist in one hand and nanami’s shoulder in the other, and hauled you both upstairs toward the empty hostess room without a single care for who he shoved aside.
now he’s pacing, running a hand through his hair like he’s trying to tear the frustration out from the root. his voice is rough from how he yells that opening line, but he’s already launching into more before either of you can answer.
“are you insane?” he seethes, pointing between the two of you. “both of you? in front of everyone? you’re unbelievable.”
nanami just stands beside you, so calm it genuinely rage baits the shit out of gojo.
you step back on instinct, not wanting to be yelled at for a second time, nanami, bless his soul, notices and places himself a half step in front of you without drawing attention to it. gojo clocks that and his rage builds and builds and builds.
“you never pull that shit,” gojo spits at nanami. “you never get involved, you never play. then suddenly you’re kissing my girlfriends neck in the middle of the kitchen? what is wrong with you?”
nanami exhales once, slow, controlled. “didn't know she was your girlfriend, you never told us. there’s nothing wrong with me.”
“bullshit.”
“you’re angry because you never thought someone else would take care of her when you weren’t.”
gojo stops walking and looks at nanami like he had three heads.
“excuse me?” satoru snaps.
nanami looks at him evenly. “you’ve been treating her like something you can ignore or pick up whenever you feel like it, pussy behaviour if you ask me.”
gojo steps forward. “don’t you dare pretend you know a damn thing about how i treat her.”
“i know enough,” nanami replies. “i know you hid the relationship. i know you left her waiting around while you partied with other people. i know you only notice her when someone else does.”
you feel gojo turn to you, like he’s trying to find confirmation or denial in your expression. you stare at the floor.
“you’re a shit friend,” gojo bites out, jabbing a finger at nanami. “we’ve known each other for years. years!. and you go and pull something like that? in front of everyone? you think that’s cute?”
nanami’s voice is steady as stone. “you’re a shit boyfriend.”
gojo laughs once oud and so calloused. “fuck you.”
“no,” nanami says. “you can’t treat women like placeholders and expect no one to notice. you can’t drag her around in secret and then act all butt hurt when someone actually shows her attention.”
“you don’t know what we have,” gojo fires back.
“don't i?” nanami asks. “because from where i’m standing, you haven’t acted like a man in a relationship once.”
“i think i respect her more than you do,” nanami returns.
gojo’s nostrils flare. “shut the fuck up.”
“you're so childish.”
that’s the first time nanamis tone drops and gojo reacts like he’s been clocked in the mouth. he spins toward you again, almost offended that nanami is still talking.
“you’re coming with me,” he says, reaching for your wrist. “we’re going home. now.”
you retreat, your body moving before your mind can catch up. you step right into nanami’s side, fingers catching the fabric of his shirt near his ribs. you grip it tight.
gojo stops mid reach.
his eyes flick down to where your hand grabs at nanami, then up to your face. the disbelief in his face is almost funny.
he scoffs, so disgusted.
“wow,” he breathes, shaking his head. “that’s how it is?”
you want to speak, but you just can't.
he looks between you and nanami again,
“fine,” he mutters. “you know what? whatever. it’s obvious who you’re picking.”
nanami moves his arm subtly, positioning his hand at the small of your back, not touching you yet, just there if you need it. gojo notices that too.
“don’t,” satoru spits, pointing. “don’t pretend you’re innocent in this.”
nanami raises a brow. “i never said i was innocent. i said you weren’t good for her.”
that’s what sends gojo over the edge.
“i’m better off without you,” he throws at you, voice sharp. “both of you. seriously. go ahead. stay with him. let him babysit your sorry ass, y/n.”
youre fighting the instinct to shrink away.
gojo barrels on, unable to stop himself, hurt twisting everything he says into the same bitter bite he spouted a week ago.
“you can go get screwed by him all day for all i care. i’m done. i don’t need this. i don’t need you acting scared of me while you hold onto him like some lost puppy.”
nanami takes a step, subtle but protective. gojo cuts him another look full of resentment.
“you two deserve each other,” he finishes, “she’s better off with someone boring and stiff like you anyway.”
nanami doest react.
satoru turns, grabs the door, yanks it open, and storms out. the sound of it slamming echoes down the hall.
…
your hand is still curled in nanami’s shirt, knuckles tight. now that gojo is gone, the adrenaline leaves you in a rushless collapse, your body leaning without meaning to. nanami steps in and catches your weight instantly.
his hand settles at your back, then another comes up to support your shoulder. he doesn’t talk, he waits for your breathing to even a little,
only then does he speak, his voice low but soft.
“you’re alright.”
you nod, or try to.
he adjusts his grip, resting your smaller body gently against his chest. his arms bracket you in a way that feels steady, he’s giving you space to gather yourself.
“you’re safe,” he murmurs near your temple. “i’ve got you.”
your fingers stay twisted in his shirt, and he covers your hand with his own, much larger one.
“you don’t have to talk yet,” he says. “just stay here as long as you need.”
you close your eyes, his hand running soothing, slow circles across your back.
“he shouldn’t have spoken to you like that,” nanami adds. “you didn’t deserve any of it.”
his arms tighten a fraction. “you’re not something to drag around. and you’re not something to yell at.”
you grip his shirt again, harder this time.
he keeps his voice level, calm enough to draw you back into yourself. “you’re with me now. i’ll make sure nothing touches you tonight. not him, not anyone.”
you melt against his body, gosh, could you fuse with this guy forever?
“let’s stay here a while,” he murmurs. “just you and me.”
"i'd really, really like that."
A/N: can the select few stop filling my inbox with hate now 🙏 i did it please be happy 💔
His Personal Stress Reliever (Higurama x F!Reader 18+ One Shot)
Pairing: Hiromi Higurama x Stripper!Fem!Reader
Synopsis: As a high in-demand lawyer with multiple cases to juggle, Higuarama is likely to suffer from burn out and stress at some point in his career. Lucky for him, he has found a better reprieve than visiting his local bar or fucking his fist to the thought of his pretty little assistant late at night. He has started visiting a strip club instead, but only to see one person in particular: you aka his personal stress reliever.
Warnings: Smutty Smut; 18+ (MINORS DNI); Boss x Assistant Relationship; Sexual Tension; Secret Relationship; Mild Power Play; Public Sex/Exhibitionism; Deepthroating; Facefucking; Mutual Oral (Giving & Receiving); Mentions of Analingus; Higurama Is A Munch; Panties To The Side; Cunnilingus From The Back; Spit Play; Slutification; Mild Objectification; Against The Wall; Creampie
Disclaimer: I own none of the characters mentioned in this fic. However, as this is my writing, I do not give permission for my work to be reposted on any other sites that are not from my own accounts. Thank you!
Workplace Plaything Series Masterlist HERE!
Writer's Note: Welcome to Installment #1 in the Workplace Plaything Series!! I'm so excited to start this lil joint & I hope y'all enjoy this! I've been wanting to write more about Higurama aka my big nosed stud for a minute now. I'm so sorry this took so long to get out, but writer's block got me lmaoo. I hope you enjoy!! -Jazz
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When it comes to hectic Mondays, some good, working people find ways of relieving their stress in healthy ways–some may do yoga or puzzles while others go to their local bars and get drunk.
Higurama Hiromi is not any of these “good, working people”. And whether his way of relieving his stress after a hard working day in his busy law firm is healthy can be up for debate.
But when you’re a busy and in-demand lawyer living in Tokyo, Japan, one of the most highly populated cities in the world, and with injustice lurking at every corner, you’ll take relief where you can get it.
When Higurama pulls up to the particular building nice and slow, taking his sweet time finding a parking spot. The place is packed as usual despite it being a Monday. With a business like this and gooning being such a high trend (as it has been for centuries), sex and horniness don’t sleep.
Higurama understands. Despite the fact that he usually is able to keep his nasty fantasies and inhibitions at bay in order to work accordingly throughout the week, he always allows himself one day a week to toss all of that shit out the window and completely embrace his wanton desires….
Or it used to be one day a week. Now, since he has found his new particular stress reliever, his visits to the strip club have become more frequent. There are times he has visited three times in one week just to see one person.
He soon parks his sleek black Benz and he fixes his tie in the rearview mirror. “You fuckin’ mess,” he sighs. The tired look in his eyes is a permanent staple to his appearance unfortunately. No amount of coffee or trips to the spa has worked for him. As a defense attorney, he is used to the hectic and demanding world of juggling cases, going in and out of courtrooms, and dealing with clients’ emotional issues and turmoils that navigating the justice system has brought them.
It is hard, difficult work, but Higurama wouldn’t rather be doing anything else. Plus it isn’t all bad: not when he gets free coffee from the coffee bar in his building lobby, he can pay his rent, and he gets help from his new personal assistant. She is the biggest help of all. Just thinking about her makes him smile and his suit pants tight.
When he walks into the club, people recognize him immediately as they did the first time he visited. Plus Higurama has a very recognizable face as he’s been told. He has very strong features: a strong jaw, thick neck, and a big, angular nose that he has been complimented on many, many times when he’s swiping it across a woman’s clit.
The particular woman who greets him with a complimentary shot, the hostess in her tight dress and fishnet stockings, looks like she’d like to feel that nose for herself when he steps to her. “Welcome to the Pleasure Palace, sir,” she purrs, passing him the shot glass. “Free shot? It’s cherry and lemonade.”
This particular strip club, dubbed “The Pleasure Palace”, is popular among celebrities, the elite, and public figures. Athletes, rappers, business moguls, political figures–you name ‘em, this place has got ‘em. Every man has his vice. And like the men here feening over a pair of pretty breasts, thighs, and a fat ass, Higurama has his vices too as he stands among the flashing purple lights under the scent of perfume and marijuana in the air.
“Thanks,” he says, downing the shot in one hit. The sweet cherry mixed with the lemonade is absolutely addicting. Just like someone else he knows. After paying his way in, he goes over to the sleek bar stacked high with all kinds of alcohol in every price range, from cheap to expensive. He finds a stool at the far end on the right and takes a seat.
On the main stage a few feet away from him are two dancers in a bra and thong set, swirling and twirling around their sets of poles like their lives depend on it. The audience below–mostly men–toss dollar bills on stage and yell in excitement as one hits the splits, doing that move where she twerks in the middle of her split. Higurama will admit that it’s impressive, but he isn’t here for any of that.
“Well, look who decided to take a break from his big boy job to pay me a visit.”
As soon as he hears your voice, so pretty and magnetic, Higurama sits up a little straighter and his heart skips a beat. He turns around to face you, the main attraction, and as usual, your appearance leaves him stunned into a moment of silence.
You stand there before him and despite your shorter height (one of the things that Higurama finds so attractive about you), you appear so much taller due to your stance–hands on your hips, one leg popped out–and your oozing confidence.
Your outfit makes you stand out even more, the sapphire, sequin string bra and G-string thong set sparkles under the lights every time you even shift. You paired it with mesh gloves, garter stockings, and a mini skirt that barely covers your delectably juicy thighs.
Your hair cascades down in curls over your shoulders, falling gracefully over your breasts that Higurama briefly envisions kissing and sucking on. Your makeup is soft yet glamorous, your kissable lips coated in pink gloss, and your skin is dusted in shimmery oil that makes you look like you bathed in glitter.
You are seductive perfection and Higurama is seduced. As soon as the scent of your vanilla body spray hits his nose, his cock is as hard as a rock. Thank God he’s sitting down and the club is dark enough to hide is raging hard-on. You give him a smile like you know you’ve gotten to him, standing so confidently in your heels like you’re Beyoncé herself. “It’s always a pleasure to see you, Mr. Higuruma.”
Your voice is like a drug to his ears. He is always so desperate to get it more and more. “Hiromi,” he corrects you. “You know how I feel about formalities, Belle.” He watches as a sparkle appears in your eyes when he uses your stripper name on you.
‘Belle’ is the name for you, Higurama believes, and your boss should get his props for that. Belles are beautiful and classy but they can also be seductive. You are all three of those things. “M’sorry, Hiromi. It slipped my mind.” You say it with a slight giggle, making butterflies flutter about in Higurama’s stomach.
The truth is he likes you. He likes this relationship that has budded between you and him over the past couple of months since he’s started coming to the club. He isn’t sure if it’s romantic or just a friendship fueled on flirting, lapdances, and attraction, but he’s enjoying it. And he knows that you are too.
“Must be a long night,” he chuckles as the bartender silently passes him a whiskey on the rocks. He has been here long enough and ordering the same thing where the servers know what he likes.
You scoff, rolling your pretty eyes framed in dark eyeliner and thick mascara. “Oh, like you wouldn’t believe! Mondays are one of our busiest nights, believe it or not.”
“Oh, I do,” he replies as he sips his drink. ‘Especially with you working here,’ he thinks, but doesn’t let it pass his lips. It is no secret though that you are among the most popular dancers working here. With your pretty face, confidence, and sexy moves, it is a no brainer that you get the men in here. But Higurama knows that he is the only one you’ll give the time of day.
“So what brings you here tonight? Aren’t you supposed to be in bed?” Your lips quirk into a sly, joking smile that somehow makes Higurama feel so feral for you. What is it about you that makes him lose his mind so quickly over you?
He has had his fair share of short term relationships and hot one night stands after romps at bars, nightclubs, and law firm events that would usually end in a feeling of numbness and a drag of a cigarette. But with you, it’s different. After one night with you, he craves more. “Soon. I couldn’t sleep, so I came here to…tire myself out.”
You don’t miss the suggestion in the last three words or the rather seductive tone that drips from his deep voice. Your eyes soften with want and he sees your breathing change. It’s like the flip of a switch the way the air changes from flirty and free to tense and charged.
“Will you be available to me in the next five minutes?” he huskily asks. He can’t do the flirty games you always play with each other anymore. He wants you too badly. After a day of constant calls, meetings, and a broken coffee machine, he needs to have you alone.
You mouth your open to reply, looking eager to do so, but then you pause and your shoulders slump. Higurama instinctively withers. “Ten,” you regretfully sigh. “I’m needed on the floor before I can see you.”
Suddenly, you slowly walk up to him with a click of those heels and press a hand near his on the bar. You are nearly standing between his legs, the scent of coconut wafting from your curls. “But I can make it eight,” you whisper. “Same room?”
He nods, unable to speak. He fears that if he does it will be something outrageously sexual and wild that it would make even the bartenders blush. Before he can try to move his hand over to touch yours, you are called over by your coworker holding a tray of bottles. “Belle, help me with these drinks!” she shouts.
You nod and turn to give Higurama an apologetic stare. “Duty calls,” you sigh. “Can you forgive me?” You give him a look with those big, gorgeous eyes and thick doll-like lashes that he imagines fluttering closed in pleasure as he fills you repeatedly with his cock.
Finally, Higurama closes the gap between your hands, his thicker fingers gliding over your tinier ones. “Sure,” he murmurs. “But don’t keep me waiting.”
The smile that stretches across your glossy, pink lips is straight sex to him. You lean in towards his ear, pressing your hand to his shoulder. “I wouldn’t dream of it, Daddy,” you purr and he swears that all of the blood in his body rushes to the head of his cock.
When you walk away, he watches your ass bounce and jiggle in that thong digging into your asscheeks. He briefly imagines his tongue there and has to drain the rest of his whiskey to calm himself down. ‘Calm yourself,’ he thinks. ‘You’ll be getting all of that later.’
The room that Higurama usually occupies is in the VIP lounge–where the big ballers play and the prettiest women only dance for major figures. Higurama is prepared. He always is when it comes to you and your moves. He often fantasizes about you winding around a pole and dancing just for him, gripping your hips as you give him a low, tantalizing lap dance.
The VIP rooms are comfortable and stylish with a personal mini-bar, shower, and furniture for lounging…and other things. Higurama has no doubt that the dancers here do more than just dancing for their clients despite the rules specifically forbidding that. But you and Higurama broke that rule a long time ago, and if your boss knows, he hasn’t said anything. Not with the kind of money Higurama brings in.
His AMEX card and crisp dollar bills burn holes in his pockets as he lounges on the comfortable black couch in his room, another drink in his hand and the muffled music from the club vibrating around him through the walls. The more he waits, the more his arousal grows, leading him to rubbing himself through his pants.
And then, finally, you appear, albeit haggardly with an irritated huff. As soon as you see him though, your face brightens like you just saw a designer bag on sale in a shop window.
“It’s about time,” he says, his voice deep and smooth. “I thought you’d forgotten me.” He doesn’t miss the way your eyes glide across his muscular thighs split open as he sits open-legged on the couch, comfortable and relaxed.
“I’m sorry, Da–uh, Hiromi,” you sigh, quickly switching gears on the titles. He would’ve opted for the first one. “Boss wanted me to serve these hotshot business guys ASAP before I came back here and they talked my ear off.”
You close the door with a click and lock it just the way you both like. “Who are these business guys?” Higurama asks, feeling a tug in his chest at the idea of you being surrounded by some flirty horndogs. Sure, it’s your job, but he has been around his fair share of sleaze bags who would take every chance at scooping you up.
You quirk an eyebrow at him as you walk over to him, sashaying in a way that draws attention to your hips and legs. “Why? You gonna fight for my honor or somethin’?” You place your hands on your hips, your glossy, red nails turning him on increasingly. He envisions those nails wrapped around his cock for a change.
“Or somethin’,” he parrots. You giggle, the sound like music to his ears. “I’m sorry to keep you waiting,” you softly coo. Slowly, you drop down to your knees and press your hands against his knees, sliding them up to his thighs. “What can I do to make it up to you, Daddy?”
You peer up at him through your lashes, making his dick twitch in his briefs. He sips on his drink, his tongue jutting out to lick the remains of the whiskey from his upper lip. He slides a finger under your chin, tilting your head up farther to look at him. “I can think of a few things,” he murmurs.
Your lips curl into a knowing smirk, already sensing what he wants judging by your hand sneaking over to his hard dick pulsing beneath his pants.
Several minutes later, you’ve got your mouth wrapped around his hard cock and you’re moving your head up and down while Higurama’s big hand is wrapped tightly in your hair. He keeps a tight grip on it as he lays back against the couch, his head tilted back as he feels your wet mouth and tongue lick, suck, and slurp on his cock the only way you know how.
“Fuck,” he groans, his voice so deep that it comes out as a grumble. The music muffles the sloppy sounds of you eagerly sucking on him, leading him to begin pushing his cock deeper down your throat. You let out a squeak of surprise as he begins fucking your mouth from below, thrusting his hips up as the belt buckle to his pants knocks against his thigh.
He didn’t even bother taking his clothes off–just his jacket that he laid across the couch next to him where his phone lies. He only told you to undo his pants and free his hard cock, chuckling when you gaped at how hard, thick, and veiny it was despite having already seen it plenty of times before.
Higurama can’t blame you though. He’s in the same exact boat you are. No matter how many times you give him head, he still reacts like it’s the first time: desperately and full of wanton need. He grunts as he pulls your head up, forcing you to take a breath. You gasp, your lips coated in spit. “Oooh! You’re a little rougher today, Daddy.”
You give him a sexy grin that makes his cock pulse in your hand wrapped around the base. “Sorry, pretty,” he pants. “Daddy’s just got a lot on his mind right now.” But doesn’t he always? You look up at him with those pretty eyes, big and innocent-like. “Anything I can help with?”
He smiles down at you, adoringly, and wiping a droplet of spit away from the corner of your mouth, your lip gloss wiped away clean. “Oh, you’re doing more than enough right now.” He then pushes your head back down to take him deeper, forcing you to gag along his cock, flexing your throat in a way that makes him moan.
“I’ve been thinkin’ about you all day,” he growls. “You and your pretty face…your fucking body…” His free hand moves across your back to trail down to your ass, gripping it as you deepthroat his cock. You then pull up again for air, freely this time, and take a deep inhale.
“Oh?” you giggle. “You weren’t thinkin’ ‘bout your cute little assistant for a change? What did she have on today?” Then you go back to gagging on his cock like it’s no one’s business, going up and down, up and down, giving him the suck of a lifetime.
Something in Higurama awakens at the mention of his cute little assistant. Her and her bubbly personality, melodic voice, and willingness to help him with anything. How she always has his coffee prepared when he comes into the office and never fails to make him smile (in secrecy). “Pink blouse tucked into a tight little pencil skirt,” he groans. “Stockings–oh, fuck–and kitten heels. Fuckin’ tease as usual.”
He can’t get enough of her little work outfits, so professional and prim yet so sexy. “Just like you,” he coos, looking down at you throat his dick like a little slut. “You both know how to fuckin’ tease me.” He pushes your head down more, needing your lips pasted firmly on his balls because you’re taking him so deep.
“Deeper, baby,” he orders. “Take me deeper. C’mon, you can do it.” You gag and he can see your lashes glisten with tears, but you taken him nonetheless, your throat brushing against his head. “Thaaat’s it!” he praises. “That’s my good girl.” He tilts your head up to see his cock plunge in and out of your mouth. “My pretty fuckin’ girl. You’re all I think about, you know that?”
You continue to stare up at him with his dick in your mouth, the same way he imagines that you do under his desk at work. How he needed this. How he craves for nights like this, closed in together in this little sanctuary in a strip club.
“Need to breathe?” he asks. You frantically nod, your eyes watery and slightly red. He releases you to let you gulp down some deep breaths of air, your mouth dripping in pre-cum and spit. “Go on, baby, breathe. Sorry; I got a little carried away with–mmmph!” His apology is cut off when you lean up to passionately kiss him, sharing his taste with him.
That’s another thing he can’t get enough of: your kisses. Your juicy lips on his, giving him kisses that fuel him for days until the high fades and he needs more. When you pull away, your eyes are dazed and lust-blown. “Don’t apologize,” you pant out. “You love when you’re rough with me, ‘Romi. You’ve got me so wet for you.”
His eyes tick down to your G-string sinking between your asscheeks, already knowing that it’s soaked with your juices for him. “Oh, so I do,” he pleasantly hums. “Stand up for me for a minute, baby.”
Melting from his pet name for you, you stand and then squeak in surprise when he bends you over the couch, tooting your pretty ass up for him. You moan when you feel his fingers peeling your skirt up and moving your soaked thong aside, hissing out a “Shit” as he does when he catches sight of your glistening, puffy cunt.
“O-Oh, you don’t have to–” He cuts you off when he peels your thong back and lets it slap against your pussy, making you gasp. “Hush,” he barks, but not unkindly. “This is my money and I’ll use it how I want…and right now, I wanna use it on this pretty pussy.”
Your shy giggle isn’t lost on him, especially when he runs his hand over your ass. “Open,” he demands and you split your thighs for him wider, coming comfortable in your position. “We don’t have long,” you warn him. “My boss told me fifteen minutes, remember.”
He nods, running his lips over your asscheek as he massages the other, his actions making your pussy wetter. “Then you’ll have to cum for me in five,” he purrs. “And then I’ll fuck you in ten.” You look back at him then, eyes twinkling and his cock aching to sink inside you. “Let’s see whatcha got then, Daddy,” you giggle.
He gives you a look, giving your ass a sharp smack that makes you jump. “Now, baby,” he tuts, “do I ever disappoint you?”
And he doesn’t. Higurama has a habit of striving to be perfect with everything, including eating you out. He does a very good job at that, he decides, when he hears your moans more than the music as his tongue caresses your cunt. “Oh, Hiromi!” you gasp. “Fuck, you’re so good! Mmm, you and that nose!”
Higuruma resists the urge to fuck you right there, instead fucking you with his tongue and letting your taste run over his it as his nose swipes against your ass. You have ridden it many times before on this exact couch, swiping your clit against it until you came all over his face. He has to fist his cock at the sound and image of you before him, your perfect ass pushed into his face.
“Mmm-hmm,” he hums into your pussy. He knows you love it when he does that, the vibrations bringing you closer to climax. He can sense that you are now from the way you toy with your tits, massaging them as he sloppily eats your pussy like it is his last time doing so, enjoying your high-pitched, needy moans.
“I-I’m gonna cum, Daddy!” you whine. “Please make me cum! Make me–”
KNOCK, KNOCK, KNOCK!
Abruptly, Higurama stops and you push him away, looking towards the door in fear. “Belle!” your coworker shouts. “We need you on stage! One of the dancers got sick from the lemon pepper wings and went to the back!”
Higurama hopes that dancer pukes her guts out for the rest of her days for cutting his pussy-eating session short. “Uh…give me five minutes!” you call back. “I’m with a customer.”
The coworker pauses and then begins to snicker. “Oooh, okay,” she knowingly giggles. “But don’t be too long. You know Boss likes us to be available.”
“Clearly,” Higuruma whispers as your coworker blessedly walks away from the door. “Guess we’ll have to cut this short.” He can feel his disappointment blooming at the idea of not making you cum or being able to feel you wrapped around him, making you cum with his cock.
But you have other ideas. “Nonsense,” you scoff, turning to face him over your shoulder. “You can fuck me in five minutes, can’t you, Daddy?” You give him a teasing grin, reaching back to toy with your glistening, wet pussy with your glossy, red fingernails, hypnotizing him.
Oh, yes, he can. Higurama absolutely loves a challenge. Why do you think he’s a defensive attorney?
And so minutes later, he accepts your challenge and has you pinned up against the wall with your heels dangling off of him, your thong pulled to the side and your naked tits freely bouncing with every hard, rough thrust he gives you. Your lips are locked together, whiskey pouring into your mouth from his, spitting his drink down your throat as he plunges his cock in and out of your gorgeous, soaked pussy over and over again.
Your fingernails dig into his chest, his thick, muscled upper torso and happy trail exposed by his open buttoned shirt. His pants are at his ankles, his briefs pulled down only to free his cock for you. He wanted to strip as minimally as possible if he’s going to be done in five minutes.
But from the way you’re squeezing tight around him and those pretty sounds that you’re making are filling his ears, that may only be two. You are too irresistible. Too sexy. His balls can’t help but become tight and heavy with cum for you. He can already feel his stress leaving his body in waves with every stroke of your pussy and sound of your moan.
“Oh, Hiromi, yes!” you gasp, bouncing up and down on his cock. “Faster, Daddy, please! Give it to me faster!” Your eyes are squeezed tight in ecstasy, your sparkly, well-manicured toes curling in your heels dangling from Higurama’s narrow hips.
“Yeah?” he coos. “You want it faster?” He smiles when you frantically nod, looking so fucked out of your mind. “You’d better fuckin’ cum soon then. We’ve only got five minutes, remember, baby?”
“I don’t care,” you whimper. “I just want you.” Higurama nearly busts a fat nut at that. “But you have me, darlin’,” he whispers, sucking on your bottom lip. “You’ve had me for months.”
He leans in to suck on your earlobe while he presses himself against your body, your tinier frame fitting so nicely against his bigger one. He grips your ass tight as he continues to fuck you out of your mind against the wall, pistoning his hips against yours with every intention of making that pussy cream and filling you with his cum.
“I still can’t believe I got you,” he grunts. “Can’t believe I’m fuckin’ my own assistant.” You moan in response, locking your legs around him and hanging off of him like a koala bear. You begin to fuck yourself against him in an effort to bring you both closer to the edge, drawing a few high-pitched, slutty moans out of him.
“Bet you were hopin’ for this, weren’t you?” he huffs in your ear. “Bet you wanted me to come in here and fuck my pretty little assistant stupid. Or bend you over my desk at work.”
He digs his nose into your neck, breathing in your sweet scent as your fingers explore his body, running over his back muscles under his shirt; over his stomach; through his short-cropped, black hair. “You drive me fuckin’ crazy, y’know that?” he pants against your skin. “I think about you all day. All fuckin’ night.”
You whimper in reply, your pussy quivering around him, your walls squeezing him in in an effort to keep him locked inside of you. “Romi,” you moan, pressing heated kisses against his cheek and over his strong jaw. “I’m gonna cum. I need you to–”
“Cum with you?” he finishes, grinning against your neck. “Like always. Such a needy thing.” He pulls away to look at you, admiring the way pleasure looks on your pretty face. “But you’re my needy thing,” he growls. “Ain’t you? Look at me and tell me, baby girl.”
Your pretty eyes peel open to stare into his, lust swimming in them. “M’yours, Daddy,” you exhale. “I’m yours, always!” Higurama smiles, pressing a harsh, sloppy kiss against your lips, swallowing your moans. “Now cum,” he demands. “Cum on that fuckin’ dick, Belle. This is yours.”
That’s what tips you over the edge. He has to slap a hand over your mouth as your moans grow louder than the music, though he’s sure that many know that you’re getting fucked back here. As he draws the prettiest, loudest sounds out of you, he feels your pussy quiver as she creams all around his cock, drenching him in sticky cream that drips down his balls.
With a few more rough thrusts, Higurama digs his fingers into your ass and presses his face into your tits as he feels his orgasm take over. “Shhhhit!” he hisses, his voice coming out ragged and thick with lust. Moans and grunts leave his lips as he spills himself inside of you, his cum spurting out of his cock and filling you up. Just as it should be.
And like a good girl, you take it all, smiling as you do. Delirious giggles leave your lips, probing Higurama to begin laughing too. As your highs die down and you come down from the clouds, you both share a soft kiss, the tension finally broken. “That was amazing, baby,” you coo against his lips. “You’re always so good to me.”
He chuckles, your sweet words filling him with pride. “Well, I guess we’re both good at what we do,” he murmurs, pressing a kiss to your nose. You giggle, doing the same thing to him, leaving lip gloss on his nose, the both of you acting like two love-drunk teens. “We should probably clean up,” he sighs. “Wouldn’t want you to get in trouble.”
So he slowly puts you on the ground and helps you find your outfit before getting dressed alongside you, almost as if what happened didn’t just occur. But it’s like this every time. You watch from the couch as he adjusts his pants, having finished dressing before him, and sip on something strong as you do.
“You were really amazing, Hiromi,” you purr, smiling fondly at him as he zips his fly. “I’m always so happy when you visit the club.”
“Oh, I bet,” Higurama chuckles, earning a pretty giggle out of your mouth. “The feeling’s mutual. And yes, you were amazing too.” You smile, suddenly bashful, all of the confidence you had as Belle leaving the building. How is it that a woman can have so many sides to her?
“So same time on Friday?” he asks, snatching his jacket from the couch. He has tucked his shirt into his pants, attempting to look as normal as possible (like he hasn’t been back here fucking). “I’ll try to come by during the week, but I have a deposition comin’ up and a brief to start on.”
You nod, suddenly looking apprehensive. He wants to ask why, but he knows better than to, and instead gives you a chaste kiss on the lips before heading to the door.
“Um…Mr. Higuruma?” you softly ask, sounding so unsure when you do. Higurama pauses at the sound of the formal title on your lips and turns around to face you. “Y/N, I told you that it’s Hiromi to you.”
He fixes you with a mock-stern stare that makes you smile. “I know,” you awkwardly giggle, toying with your mesh shirt. “I just…” You pause, biting your bottom lip in a way that makes him realize that you’re fighting with yourself. “What?” he asks.
Silence swells around you, uncomfortable with words left unsaid and questions left unanswered. Finally, you uncap that bottle and you finally look at him with those stunning eyes. “This is still just between us, right? No one will know about my side hustle?”
Higurama nearly laughs. If he were to tell anyone or let anyone find out that his personal assistant is also a stripper on the side, he would also risk people finding out about his whereabouts after work and that he has a “personal” relationship with you. Of course, he was shocked the first night he came here and saw you, his assistant, serving drinks and swinging around a pole.
But that shock turned to lust the minute he got you alone and you gave him a lapdance that left him hard for hours and made him stroke his cock to the thought of you in his shower. That night, you both silently agreed to act on the attraction that you’ve been feeling for each other for months now since you were hired.
“You don’t have to ask me that again, Y/N,” he firmly says. “I told you before that your secret is safe with me, especially since I’m the one fucking you.” His blunt words make you even shyer, your thighs pressed tight against each other.
He smirks, coming up to you to kneel in front of you. “You have nothing to worry about, pretty. You’re safe in my hands.” You nod, pressing your hands against his shoulders as he places his big hands on your waist. “And I can count on you not to blab to the office about my whereabouts afterhours, right?”
You shake your head, your eyes sparkling, your mascara slightly askew from his pounding session with you. “No, sir,” you giggle. “Your secret’s safe with me.”
He gives you a crooked smile, pressing a soft kiss against your lips. “Good. Now you’d better head back to work. Wouldn’t want you to get in trouble.”
You share a kiss again, the both of you not wanting to leave each other, but knowing that it is only a matter of time until you’re able to be alone again. Finally, Higurama tears himself away from you and heads to the door again. “See you at the office tomorrow?” you suggest.
He looks back at you, giving you a humored smirk. “You’ll see me,” he chuckles. “Until tomorrow, Ms. L/N.”
caleb x fem!reader ; nsfw warning ; just smth i was daydreaming abt <3
thinking about caleb who always calls you some variation of “my ___ girl”.
“there’s my favourite girl!” when he picks you up after a long day of work, his face creasing into the biggest dimpled smile as he spins you around in a hug. you always laugh and scold him to put you down, but you both know you love it.
“my pretty girl…” whispered against your skin as the two of you admire your reflection in the mirror, all dressed up for a grand dinner. his hands rest heavy on your hips, practically branding you as his through the fabric, and you’re starting to wonder if you should just stay home.
“i’m so lucky to have you, my sweet girl.” when you’re cuddling at night, cheek pressed against his torso as he kisses the crown of your head. caleb holds you like you’ll disappear if he lets go for even a second, arms wrapped around you in the closest embrace. terrified of losing him again, you’re holding him equally as tight.
“i knew you could do it, you’re my clever girl.” said with the easy confidence of someone who believed in you from the start after you get top marks on your next hunter’s assessment. no matter how nervous you get, caleb’s your rock, always there to remind you that he’ll be by your side no matter the outcome.
“fuck, that’s my good girl.” moaned out through gritted teeth as he fucks you into the mattress, your wet heat clenching around his cock. his teeth sink into your neck and his tongue glides over the sting, leaving a mark so everyone will know you’re his. you’re too far gone to form a coherent thought, but the only thing you know is that you’ll always be caleb’s girl.
cw cnc (he eats her out to wake her up (not written out bc lazy))
the concept of being drunk at your birthday party and whispering to your very new boyfriend about your new set of lingerie that you’re wearing under your dress.
then cut to you getting irritated because all they give you is a dismissive “that’s nice, baby,” making you immediately pout. your idea of him picking you up and take you to your bedroom to fully admire your body went completely over his head!!!!
except in his brain, he just doesn’t want to assume you mean something sexual because you’re drunk, and he doesn’t want to take advantage of you :((.
so when you angrily stand up shouting an exasperated “you always do this!” before exiting the beautifully decorated patio, leaving the guests very confused and very judgemental of your panicked boyfriend running after you. “wait you know i didn’t mean it like that,” your boyfriend shouts, catching up to you halfway up the staircase, one hand planting itself firmly on the small of your back while the other gently cradles your face.
and much to your chagrin, your efforts to be let go completely fails, his only option being to carry his pretty girl and her tear-stained face into her room, away from the curious onlookers.
as he gently places you to sit on your bed, your drunken rambling only becomes worse, going on about how he ruined your birthday because he doesn’t want to make a move on you despite being your boyfriend.
he can only sigh before reassuring you that it’s not right to do anything to you while you’re drunk and that he’s sure he still thinks you’re the most beautiful girl in the world.
and once he’s decided that you’ve had enough of the party and kicks everyone out, he notices you slowly dozing off and decides to help you get unready. but as he’s helping you change, he has to ignore the gorgeous underwear hiding underneath your dress that he thinks you were DEFINITELY underselling. and as the great boyfriend he is, he ignores the tightening happening in his pants to make sure his sweet girl is comfy in her bed.
but for him, he takes his girlfriend's words VERY seriously. and by the time it’s noon and you still haven’t woken up, trust that he’s going to admire you maybe a little bit more than you thought... especially when he slowly wriggles your cute sleeping shorts off you, gently spreading your legs to expose the sluttiest view of your pussy leaking through your panties. he presses a small kiss on the wet patch before pushing the underwear to the side to wake you up to some real admiration.
you’re sitting cross-legged on the couch, bundled in your favorite oversized hoodie, sniffling into a tissue. your bottom lip is trembling. your eyes are glossy. there’s a pathetic little frown on your face as you stare at the now-empty plate on your lap.
“it was just… so good,” you say, voice wobbly. “the bread was so soft. and the mayo ratio was perfect. and the tomato wasn’t soggy at all, kento.”
nanami blinks at you. silent. slow. then blinks again.
“…you’re crying,” he says carefully. “over the sandwich I made.”
you nod. another sniff. you wipe under your eyes. “yes.”
nanami doesn’t know what to do with that. he honestly thought you had gotten a phone call with bad news, or stubbed your toe, or watched a sad video on your phone again (which was already a very regular occurrence). but no. you’re crying over lunch.
and not even a great sandwich. not one with slow-roasted beef or caramelized onions or aioli with a name too fancy to pronounce. just a tomato and cheese sandwich on multigrain.
“…was it the type of cheese?” he tries.
you throw yourself dramatically across the cushions and whimper, “you made it for me, kenny. with love. i could taste it.”
he exhales through his nose and rubs his forehead, fighting a smile.
the first time he saw you cry like this, he was worried something was very wrong. turns out you just rewatched a coming-of-age anime. then it was a video of a baby goat in pajamas. then a pigeon with one leg that found a mate. and then one time you cried because he looked really handsome in a blue button-up.
it’s always something with you.
and every time, he thinks he’s prepared. every time, he’s wrong.
“you’re ridiculous,” he murmurs, kneeling beside the couch. he tugs the tissue box closer and hands you a fresh one. “and overly sensitive.”
“emotional,” you correct, holding it to your nose. “i just feel a lot, okay?”
“yes,” he says dryly. “i’ve noticed.”
you reach for him—grabbing his arm, pulling him until he sighs and lets you fold against his chest. your hands cling to his shirt, your face buried against his collarbone. you sniff again. he wonders if he should invest in better-quality tissues.
“…but like,” you mumble into his shoulder, “you don’t think it’s a bad thing, right?”
he looks down at you. you’re still pouty and teary and a little snotty. but you’re warm. affectionate. soft in all the ways he’s not. and when he cups the back of your head, you lean into it like it’s instinct.
“no,” he says. “i don’t think it’s a bad thing.”
you lift your head, sniffling again. your eyes are a little red, lashes wet. “so you like that i’m emotional?”
he hesitates. your eyes narrow. he clears his throat.
“…i’ve gotten used to it.”
you scowl.
“fine. yes. i like it.”
“you love it,” you say smugly.
“i tolerate it.”
you’re already smiling through the tears, rubbing at your face with your sleeves like a toddler. he sighs again and gently pulls your hoodie sleeves away to clean you up properly, holding another tissue to your nose like you’re incapable of doing it yourself.
“blow,” he murmurs.
you do. very pathetically. he grimaces.
“god, you’re a mess.”
“you’re so good to me, heh,” you say sweetly.
he wipes your face clean with ridiculous tenderness and finally sits beside you, letting you drape yourself over him like always. one of your arms around his waist, the other holding the tissue box close to your chest. your cheek pressed to his chest now, soft hums escaping you as he rubs circles into your back.
“thank you for the sandwich,” you say, almost whispering. “it was the best sandwich i’ve ever had.”
he kisses the top of your head. “you’re welcome, sweetheart.”
you go quiet for a moment.
then—“wait—what if i never taste a sandwich that good again? what if—what if the next one is a disappointment and it ruins the memory of this one?”
“…are you crying again?”
“only a little!!”
nanami closes his eyes and counts to ten.
but his hand never stops rubbing your back. and when you inevitably get the hiccup-cry combo ten minutes later, he brings you a glass of water without being asked.
because you are emotional.
but you’re also kind. and open. and loving. and somehow, impossibly, you’re his.
and if loving you means tissues and tears and hand-holding through minor food-related meltdowns… then he’ll take all of it.
even the sobbing over sandwiches.
bonus:
gojo finds out one day and laughs until he cries.
“you sobbed over a sandwich?”
“shut up,” you mumble.
nanami only glares at him once and gojo stops laughing immediately.
you beam. “see? he gets it.”
nanami sips his coffee in silence.
he doesn’t get it. but he gets you. and that’s more than enough.
