prisoner!toji knew you'd visit him one day. it doesn't take much convincing for you to remember why you couldn't resist a bad man like him in the first place.
a/n: explicit content. MINORS DO NOT INTERACT. not proofread bc i'm sleepy
While stopped at the red light, you take in the view:
Wafts of fog circle the aging brick building encased by barbed wire. I pull into a parking spot that’s a little too far from the visiting gates. The breeze from the nearby ocean makes you zip up your jacket while you sit and consider your options. You hadn't seen him in a year, not counting his mug shot that ripped through social media. Thousands of comments lauded his dangerously sexy looks. It was enough for everyone to forget the violent charges that got him here in the first place.
You never forgot. You can't. Not when you're the reason why he's here in the first place.
You go through the rows of security measures one by one. Beady eyes and rough hands taking in your body before you can enter the visiting room. You're finally escorted down the hostile white halls and heavy metal doors that buzz loudly with every clack of a button. Your steps slow when you see the sign with fading black lettering: VISITATION. The regret of coming fills your stomach with bile before reaching your feel, slowing your steps.
The guards don't notice, or do and don't care. They open the door at the end of the hall.
"Take a seat. He'll be here shortly." The burly guard's voice bellows down to you. The grimace on his face has you picking up the pace before he can say it twice. You cross the threshold, feeling the finality of your decision. The metal chair creaks with every bounce of your knee. Did he hold a grudge? Would he try to break through the glass and strangle you? Was it too late to back out? You stand and turn to the door in defeat.
Just as you're about to run back to the entrance, a buzzer rings and the door on the other side of glass opens.
Toji was always beefy, but his body had doubled in size since you last saw him. His figure is gigantic in comparison to the thin cop next to him, making Toji look an otherworldly titan. The short sleeves of his orange jumpsuit strained against his solid biceps. The cop unlocks his handcuffs and says something brief before leaving the room. Seeing the heavy door clank shut makes a cold drop of sweat trickle down your neck.
Are we supposed to be left alone?
He stands in front of you--rather, in front of the 5 inch thick glass separating you both. His steely blue eyes widen from either confusion or anger. You can't tell as you're focused on trying to comprehend that the large man in front of you is the same man you used to love all those years ago.
With a wave of his scarred palm he gestures for you to sit. Your eyes never break contact as if it were an old western showdown. Large shoulders drop in a sigh as he taps the glass with the receiver of his phone. You shake yourself out of your daze of disbelief and pick up phone on your side.
“Haven't seen such a sweet little thing in a long time.”
“I bet…" you squint at his chest. "Prisoner 0831911"
He tsks and gives a half smile. He never fully laughed at jokes you made, just pushed out a quick huff.
"You're looking good. You that happy to see me?" Toji's eyes wandering over your torso make you squirm in your seat.
"Quite the opposite. I'm just curious."
"Came to clear your conscious?" Pearly whites with sharp canines flash between his scarred lips. He wasn't book smart by any means, but his intuition, his street smarts are always right.
"I didn't have a choice, Toji," Just saying his name felt foreign. "You beat my boyfriend bloody."
"Boyfriend," He spits the name like the taste of it disgusts him. "You really are an angel, still loving a man whose face must look like gum on the street."
You stare at the steel counter below your elbows and recount the memory. You moved on fast after leaving Toji, but you didn't expect him to show up in the middle of the night to "collect some stuff." Call it jealousy, call it crazy, but Toji couldn't bare seeing you naked with some dick who he knew couldn't take care of you. When he stared blankly at the both of you scrambling to cover yourselves up, he wondered how he could prove his point. No one could take care of you like he could. In a split second he decided:
He'd just show you who was more capable in protecting you.
"Come on, stay with me, girl," Toji raps his knuckles on the glass. "You know I hate to see a pretty thing like you be upset. Especially over a sad excuse for a man."
"We aren't even together anymore!" The screech in your voice echoes off the concrete walls. Toji pulls the phone from his ear briefly. "He broke up with me. Why would anyone want me after they found out what you did."
Toji's scarred lips part in satisfaction at your confession. He has another year to go in this hell hole, and he's dead set on making you his forever. No sappy shit like a candlelight dinner and a ring, just a good fuck and breakfast in the morning. Going with you to whatever new cafe or movie you want to see then fucking again in the bathroom. Just like the good old days before he messed up. It wasn't anything major. The money he worked for paid for everything you wanted. Who cares about the legality of his job when you were taken care of?
"This isn't funny. I'm damaged goods."
"Don't ever say that." He leans forward, breath clouding the glass. "You know better than to let any scrub near you. They can't handle a woman like you."
"And you can?" You scoff at his abundance of audacity.
"You know better than to ask stupid questions like that, baby girl." Toji's voice lowers. His deep tone like velvet in your ears. "No way in hell you forgot how well I take care of you."
Your shifting does little to hide how your body still responds to his voice. If he could touch you, you know you'd fold, literally, for him.
"Why don't you touch yourself for me, pretty girl?"
"Toji!" You glance around the tiny room as if you two aren't still alone. "We can't do that here."
"Tch, you think everyone gets a visit this long? Without one of these damn guards listening to us?"
You glance at the cameras in the corners facing the middle of the room. The red lights that signal they're working are pitch black. There's no guards to be found behind the doors behind you or Toji. Just like when you were dating, you knew better than to question how he got his way.
"I know you must be soaking for me," Toji's rough voice snaps your attention back to him. "Give me a little show, why don't ya?"
He pushes his chair back enough so you can fully take in the sight before you. He's leaning back in his chair like he owns the place. Round pecs heaving under his now unzipped uniform, revealing a tight white tee underneath. Prominent veins tumbling under his thick forearms as he massages himself. His bulge obviously straining against his briefs.
You follow suit, moving your free hand down your body. Your fingertips tickle your skin from your collarbones to the tops of your breast before grabbing a palmful. Toji's groans of approval motivate you to keep going. You mimic Toji, leaning back as far as the phone's cord will allow and lifting your shirt above your breasts.
"You can't keep teasing me, doll. Show me what I've been missing."
You oblige, knowing that you two are already risking a lot. You fiddle with your jeans before successfully unbuttoning them and slinking your shaky hand over your panties.
"Tell me how it feels," Toji tucks his plump bottom lip between his teeth.
"So warm," You slide your hand into your damp panties, fingers nimbly brushing against your slick folds. "So, so wet, Toji."
"Fuck, yes," Toji takes himself out of his boxers, thick and heavy just like the rest of him. He spits in his palm and wraps his large hand around himself. "Rub that clit for me."
"So good," You part your legs more and rub circles around your bud, growing sensitive with each rushed rub of your hand. "T-Toji, fuck I miss your mouth."
"I want to be between those thighs so bad," Toji's gruff voice shudders as he quickens his pace. "Lick you clean then fuck you deep like you like it."
"God, yes!" Moans echo off the walls as you get closer to your release, rubbing quick circles while remembering how Toji could pound his fat cock in you for hours without getting tired. "I'm—I'm almost—"
"Let it out, say my name, doll." Toji's voice a harsh whisper, his eyes never leaving your body shaking with pleasure.
"Shit, Toji!" Your head falls back as warm juices trickle past your wet fingers, squelching as you keep pushing yourself to overstimulation. Deep grunts from the other line signal Toji isn't that far behind.
You slowly blink your eyes open, your brain catches up with your vision and you remember where you are.
"What the hell did I just do?" You whip your hand out of the sticky mess between your legs and pull your shirt down. You put the phone back to your ear.
"Don't act like you didn't enjoy that." Toji collected himself quicker than you did. Breathing already back to normal and his posture a little more straight. "I swear we fucked in public more than in our own bed."
"I—um—I should go." You slam the phone down on the receiver and stand.
"Wait." Toji says, knowing you can't hear him anymore.
Still standing, you look down at him behind the glass, his low eyes almost pleading. You pick up the phone.
"Tell me you'll wait for me. And don't lie. You know better."
"I suggest you try to get out early on good behavior." You comb your fingers through your hair, smoothing any flyaways. "It'll be hard to wait another year. Especially after… Whatever this was."
Toji finally grants you the blessing of a gruff chuckle instead of a half-assed sigh.
"Got it, princess."
You slam the phone shut and saunter to the door, knowing he's looking. Toji follows suit and walks to the door, rapping his knuckles three times. The once-dead cameras beep alive again. Heavy boots saunter robotically to both doors. Toji's handcuffed again and you're led out to the hallways of the prison. He winks before disappearing behind the metal door with a thud.
a/n: yay for getting past writer's block with filth!
boxer!toji who made history tonight with the 8th quickest knockout in history at just 45 seconds. It would have been 30 seconds, but the little prick just wouldn't stay down. His mistake for getting up, as Toji's fist connected with the poor guy's face with a heavy right.
boxer!toji who winks at the pretty ring girl to his right as the ring announcer declares Toji Fushiguro the Heavyweight Champion. The crowd erupts into a deafening cheer that passerbys hear outside of the arena. A few stupid enough to bet against the "One-Hit Killer" hang their heads in parlays lost.
boxer!toji who pulled himself out of poverty with bloody knuckles and scarred skin, snatches money from his manager's hand as he meets him outside his luxury hotel.
"All here? Not skimping me are ya?" Toji flips through the money as if he cares enough to count the pile of hundreds.
"Who do you think I am? You?" Shiu blows cigarette smoke to the streets lined with speeding cars and drunks. Typical Las Vegas.
boxer!toji who gets stopped on the way to the bar more than he likes, but poses for pictures and autographs anyway. "More you're on social media, the more brands will pay you," Shiu reminded him after he shrugged off a fan. He only needed to be told that once to never do it again. He'll sign all the posters and tits in the world if the price is right.
boxer!toji whose arrival at the dive bar is announced like the president just walked in. Gruff old men and drunk young adults all rejoice at the mountain of a man. His scarred lips part to flash his bright white smile (catch him on the Crest commercials!) and his thick arms lift in lazy waves. The owner comes out front and pours Toji and Shiu each a generous glass of "the best damn whiskey for the best damn fighter."
boxer!toji who hasn't paid for a single drink all night thanks to his fans. Despite the frequent back pats and winks, his attention remains on the cute bartender who looks like she doesn't care if he lives or dies.
"Hey, sweets," Toji leans a forearm on the bar, too close to you, the bartender who just wants to get through the night. "Another shot for me and my boy here."
"Got it."
boxer!toji who lets out a weak chuckle at your nonchalance. There's no way you don't know who he is. Regardless, you slide two shots in his direction swiftly. His large hands make the shot glasses look even more miniscule.
boxer!toji who hasn't left the ring without a prize. Somehow, in this shitty little bar, he found you. A million dollar trophy that won't even meet his eyes so he can give you a suggestive wink and nod to the door.
boxer!toji who leaves around 1 a.m, but not before he slips you a few $100 bills with his number wrapped in the middle. A bouquet of money should have any woman calling, right?
boxer!toji who is getting his shit rocked by his trainer because he just can't focus. It wasn't the hangover, he's not a pussy. It was you. The sexy bartender in that Coyote Ugly getup running through his mind all night and day. You still haven't texted him.
"Fame got to your head, huh, Fushiguro?" Coach Yaga swings a mean uppercut that connects with Toji's sharp jaw.
boxer!toji who falls flat on the sweat-slick canvas floor of the ring. His eyes fall to his phone slipping out of the pocket of his duffle bag. He moves quicker than he has all morning to answer the call.
boxer!toji who knew you would call. You had to, I mean look at him! He's on the cover of Men's Health magazine half naked!
"Finally remembered who I was, doll?"
"Whatever. Thanks for the tip, old man."
boxer!toji who asks you to meet him outside of a trashy bar. All alone. You only agree to meet him if he wins his next match.
boxer!toji who gets back in the ring after Coach Yaga threatens him to end the call or he'll "beat the rest of the braincells" out of Toji's head.
boxer!toji who doesn't miss another opening, who dodges flawlessly. He didn't care that he was up against the mighty Ryomen Sukuna himself next week. He won't let a pretty little thing like you slip away.
enjin won't let his favorite cleaner escape his sight that easily
a/n: no spoilers, but takes place in the doll festival arc. pure fluff.
The October air whistled through the throngs of fully costumed people swarming the cobblestone streets.
"Yo, the party's this way! Keep up, would ya?" Enjin puts his palm on your back, making sure you keep up with him.
The lack of chokers provided little relief from your leader's irritating voice.
"I seem to be the only one that remembers our mission—"
You're cut off by your own screech as a masked man flails his pale arms in your face. Had Enjin not held you by your right wrist, you would have cracked the man's face in half.
"IT'S THE DOLL FEST-I-VAAALLLLLL!" August gets so close you can make out his excited eyes behind his sunglasses. "I DIDN'T MAKE ALL THESE FITS SO YOU COULD JUST WORK IN 'EM! GET YOUR GROOVE ON!"
You open your mouth to argue when you promptly shut it just as fast. Having a simple conversation with the Cleaners' wardrobe designer is about as easy as it is to get Enjin to not piss you off.
Your shoulders slump in defeat. There's no chance anyone will stop shopping or gawking at the displays of magic around them. Enjin's stupid grin widens, small dimples indenting the smooth skin of his cheeks.
"You heard the man," Enjin drags you to the next stall. "Let's get our groove on."
Rudo, Riyo, and Zanka follow behind like baby ducks trying to not lose their parents.
After hours of partying and spending a 1,450 Galla (not that you were counting every bill flying out of Enjin's wallet) you're slumped against a brick building on the outskirts of the festival. You all agreed to stay together since you took your chokers off, making communication difficult, but you couldn't help but vanish in the crowd. You're tired of the team not listening to simple commands. No wonder Semiu hasn't cracked a smile in days.
The click of a camera shutter makes you whip your head over your shoulder.
"Now that's hot. Lemme take one more—" Click.
Enjin holds the second polaroid between his index and thumb. He shakes it wildly, stopping every few seconds to see if they've developed.
"If that clerk ripped me off I'll kill him…"
You step closer and take the first polaroid from his fingers. "Shaking it doesn't do anything. Just be patient."
"Look who's talkin'," Enjin looks up from the dark picture. "You haven't stopped yelling at us since we got out the Jeep."
"I don't have time to mess around—"
"But you do. What's the rush for? We always get the job done."
"Not without a few casualties."
Enjin's shoulders slump more, the warm lights from the street post illuminate from behind him. You wish you could take the words back when his low eyes meet yours. There was no smirk or deep huff of laughter. Just his shoulders rising slowly under his trench coat.
Loss. Grief. Pain. Enjin hasn't forgotten a single memory of hurt he's endured.
"I'm sorry…" You stare at the broken concrete under your boots. Another pair step closer, toe to toe now.
"You're too pretty to be frownin' like that." A cold finger lifts your chin. The tip of his nose is brushes yours as he tilts his head. His honey eyes linger on your lips. You let your eyes close and he accepts that as an invitation.
A warmth you hadn't felt all night blooms from your connected lips and spreads from your chest to the depths of your stomach. His tongue presses against your lips. You part them without hesitation, tongues sliding against each other before connecting your wet lips again. Enjin is the first to pull away.
"Looks like it's done." He walks past you to the nearest lamp post and hooks his arm with yours, gripping the camera tight. He holds the polaroid up to the light with his other hand. You stop beside him, holding up the second picture.
"I don't like—"
Enjin cuts you off before you can insult yourself. "I love it. August needs a raise for putting you those tights."
"You guys are getting paid?"
"How about another one for the road?" Enjin backs away to take another picture.
You snatch the camera before he presses the delicate button. He leans against the wall, crossing his arms and looking to the side to make the picture seem candid.
That just isn't fair.
You close one eye and press your cheek to the cold metal camera to look through the lens.
"You know, Enjin, you're pretty shit at kissing."
"What the hell are you—" Click.
Enjin lunges forward. He's too slow as you take the polaroid from the camera and step backwards. You step back a little too fast and your shoe catches on loose gravel. Enjin wastes no time wrapping an arm around you and grabbing the camera before it tumbles to the ground.
"I saved your life," Enjin holds you closer to his chest as if you can't catch your footing. "You wanna take back that lie?"
"You could do with some more practice." You slip your arms around his waist, relishing in the warmth of having him so close. Your palms get slick with sweat but you grip his picture so the wind wont take it away.
everyone knows your boyfriend nanami kento is a workaholic, but what happens when he misses your Valentine's Day dinner?
a/n: explicit sexual content under the cut, mdni
"Honey, I said—"
"'I'm sorry,'" you cock your head to the side. "You're so sorry that you missed our dinner because work will always matter more to you."
"Please do not put words in my mouth." Nanami releases a sigh that deflates his whole, sleep-deprived body.
Nanami is exhausted. From trying to please his bosses to trying to please you. Every nerve in his body had been, pinched, stepped on, burst from stress. Your biting words only make him feel worse, but he knows that they are valid. Nanami promised to be home early in order to celebrate Valentine's Day together as you do every year. Unlike every year, this is the first time he had missed the deadline so egregiously.
It broke his heart even more to see you hunched over the kitchen island looking so divine even as tears fall from your eyes and splash on the granite. Your makeup ruined as watery black streaks line your cheeks.
"It shouldn't be this hard to make me happy," You utter through wobbling lips.
"You're right. It shouldn't."
You don't look up from the black and brown-speckled counter as you hear Nanami moving across the small space to rest behind you. He rests his hands on your back which shakes slightly with every ragged breath. You feel his warm palms through your thin dress trail down your sides until they reach your hips. His grip tightens so he can turn you around to face him. With little resistance left in your body, you allow your arms to clamor around his shoulders and your face to smush into his chest.
"Please, stop crying." Nanami's strong arms cling around your small torso, as if the harder he holds you the less you'll cry.
"I want to know that you'll always be here for me…" You move your face upwards to look at him. Nanami's hazel eyes peer down on you, low and examining the way your lips form every quiet word. "How can I rely on you?"
Nanami's fingers thread through your hair to rest your head back on his chest. He's warm and solid wrapped in the scent of his cologne. The same smell on the shirts you "borrow", the bedsheets you sleep on, and the car you two travel in. He smells like home.
"I wanted to do this at dinner, but…" Nanami's voice is steady as always when he shuffles out of your grip.
You wipe your eyes to see where he went only to see him on one knee in front of you. A small red box cradled in his hands.
"Will you—"
You don't let him finish before pulling him into you once again, his head pressed against your stomach, his wide torso smushed against your lower half as you squeeze him closer.
"Took you long enough!"
He's still tired, but relieved that you'll always be his. He didn't know that you would want to celebrate immediately.
Before midnight on Valentine's Day, you had cried twice, the second time from pure pleasure from what your boyfriend—Fiancé is doing to you in the kitchen of your shared apartment.
Your delicate dress is bunched up around your hips and lace panties are drenched before they're pulled to the side. Your chest is slick against the cold granite as Nanami has you bent ovedr the counter. Your palms can barely grip the slippery surface as Nanami's hips hit yours recklessly. Splotches of red form around the taught skin of his pelvis as he slams into you, over and over and over.
Drool slips from your parted lips as your split open from his thick cock hitting close to your cervix with a force you didn't think was possible. Beads of sweat drip from his temples down to his tight jaw. Teeth clenched as he's focused on making you go dumb with every smack of his hips.
"H-honey," You manage utter weakly.
"Yes?" He doesn't stop as he continues his relentless pounding. "Full sentences, sweetie."
"Ungh," You'd roll your eyes if they weren't already in the back of your head. "'m so close."
"Good." Nanami slips his hand from your hip to the front of your body. Thick fingers slipping over your skin to between your legs.
His fingertips open your glossy folds to rub circles around your clut. His pace doesn't falter as he brings you closer to your high. Your moans echo off the walls as you feel each vein of his pulsing cock around your convulsing walls.
"You look so beautiful like this," Nanami tilts his hips upwards to hit a different angle, the perfect angle. "So fucked out, begging for me to give you more."
His words barely hit your ears over the ringing from your sudden orgasm. Your sensitive walls clamping wildly on Nanami's dick. Nanami follows soon after, warm spurts of his release covering your gummy hole in white. Stringy white drips of your combines orgasms trickle out of you when he pulls out of you.
His heaving chest molds against yours as you two catch your breath. His weight like a heavy blanket to help you decompress from the whirlwind of a night you both had.
a/n: not nanami and me both being late for v-day, thank u for reading<3
your least favorite regular comes in for a new tattoo. as the best artist in Canvas Town, who are you to reject some extra income from the sexy friendly neighborhood Cleaner?
pairing: tattooartist!reader x gachiakuta enjin
content: 3.8k words, mdni 18+, fem reader, p in v, slight manhandling, fingering, cunnilingus, spit, teasing, semiproofreadbcimtiredoops
a/n: this has been festering in my mind and there's not enough enjin fics so here i am to save the day
All the ice water in Canvas Town couldn’t make the sweltering heat any less tiring. You flex your dominant hand, rolling the aching muscles with the fingertips of your other. You get a peek at your watch, a reminder that your break time would end with the rapid tick of the minute arm.
Everyone came to you for tattoos, claiming--well, knowing-- that you’re the best in town. The summer is at its peak and so is the opportunity to flex new ink. Whether it was for the deceased, a lover, or themselves, everyone wants you to be the one to permanently stain their skin with your penmanship. You took pride in having a job where you are your own boss and have clientele from tribes folk to givers. The money is certainly the biggest plus.
The faint sound of your shop's bell can be heard from your stoop out back. You stand and rush in to greet them, professionalism keeps the customers and their wallets coming back.
Speaking of regulars, the one that quickly makes himself at home in your tiny office is the cause of your migraines and carpal tunnel.
“Hey girl,” His baritone voice echoes off the painted walls. “I’m ready for our appointment.
“Sit down.” You start to ready your instrument tray, setting out an assortment of inks and fresh needles and wipes.
“Ooh, she’s feeling dominant today.”
A brief glance from your low-lidded eyes are enough to tell him you’re too tired to indulge in his jokes. He sits down on the chair after stripping his rucksack and thick trench coat. How he could wear all these heavy layers in the middle of a heatwave is beyond you.
Enjin. 190 centimeters of muscle and sarcasm, topped with a devilishly handsome face adorned with golden eyes and blond hair to match. His pierced ears and thick, jagged scar etched on the side of his undercut only make him more irresistible. Not to you, Miss Professionalism and all, but to any other female or male citizen across this junk-littered world. His ingratiating charm is morphine to the single ladies who are lucky enough to get a hit from the town rake.
You pull the tray to the side of the chair where he lies comfortably, arms propped behind his resting head. His eyes don’t leave your face as you snap your gloves on your hands.
“It pains me to say this, but your shirt’s gotta come off before we start.”
Enjin’s rich laugh goes on for too long as he lifts up to rip his shirt off. He tosses it over the back of the chair. His latest tattoo that you did for him, your biggest piece on a human body yet, looks to be healing nicely. Labyrinthine red and black swirls sweep across his broad chest, up to his shoulders and down to his arms. The pattern morphes into sinuous, cloud-like shapes on his forearms, his protruding veins still visible when you look closely.
“Last piece looks badass,” A sucker clacks in his mouth as he speaks. Of course he stole more suckers from behind your desk, your secret stash. “Can’t wait to see what those pretty hands do next.”
“‘Preciate it, Jin,” You snatch the sucker from his mouth and put it in your own, relishing the sweet, slick hard candy. Strawberry. As an apprentice you learned that keeping your mouth busy while working helps you calm down. Your fidgeting tongue distracts you from the pain that comes with keeping your hands steady for sometimes more than twelve hours a day.
You’d also be lying if you said you weren’t the least bit curious if the freaky rumors about Enjin were true. You savor his strawberry-infused spit over your tongue before swallowing it.
“Right around the belly button, right?” A flash of the design he wants is now burned behind your eyes. A vortex with three circles that vaguely remind you of peacock’s ocellated feathers when showcasing their kaleidoscopic tail. How fitting.
“That’s right. But don’t be afraid to go a little lower.” He slinks lower on the chair, his skin and jeans squeaking awkwardly as he shuffles to get more comfortable. Your eyeline goes from your target area to the patch of light-blond hair leading to his sinfully sexy waistline decorated with a V-line your forearms would soon rest on.
“You need my pants off too or are you just window shopping?” His wolf-like smile parts as he pops another sucker into his mouth. His tongue delicately swirls around the tiny pink circle of sugar.
Despite his numerous attempts to woo you, whether for a discount or for something more, you stay strong. Your hand is as steady as ever when you begin to etch his fair skin with your sable ink.
“Just stay still. You were shaking like a damn leaf last time.”
“Aye, aye captain.” The solid pack of muscles under his skin sink inwards as he lets out a sigh.
For a guy who made a living killing trash beasts that are double the size of your hometown, he had an ordeal with needles pecking his skin.
As you continue the tattoo, you remember why you continue to run your little shop day in and out. The rumble and buzz of the powerful machine in your hand and the needle tightly affixed to it were under your control completely. Any design a customer wanted, you could look at it, or dream of it, just once and easily replicate it in a minute. Although Enjin’s largest piece took a full thirteen hours and twenty-five minutes, you know you could have finished it in less time if he didn’t need so many “smoke breaks.” You swear he shed a few tears when you were straddling his back, forcing his stocky, shaky body down as he kept asking you how much longer it would take.
If he hadn’t left a hefty tip, you weren’t sure you’d accept him again as a client.
After thirty minutes, the piece lining his stomach were coming together. You exhale in excitement at how wonderful it would look once finished. Little goosebumps freckle his skin as your breath flutters over him.
“Hey, I said stay still.” You don’t look up as you press your forearms over those deadly V-lines of his and press your free gloved hand onto one to steady him.
“Come on, girl. Go easy on me.” His pleading makes you lick up at the rapidly dissolving candy in your mouth. “I’m beggin’ you.”
You sigh and look up at the fragile butterfly whose torso damn near covers the back of the chair holding him. His pecs lift in jagged breaths that he takes in through his parted lips, sucker all but discarded in the bin next to you. Damp ringlets of hair stick to his forehead and cover his thick, furrowed brows.
The pulsing of the machine in your hands brings you back to your job at hand. The quicker you got this panting, hulking mess of a man out of your chair, the better.
“Better get that stamina up, Enjin,” You continue working through his shudders. “Don’t want the ladies knowing the big, powerful Cleaner can’t handle a little needle.”
“Please,” His unfaltering voice continues despite his strong fingers grasping at the chair, about to rip the leather. “I’ve got enough stamina for the both of us.”
You lift your tattoo gun and sputter before laughter rips from your throat. “What a cornball.”
He's relieved by the break, but insulted by your taunting gives a childish pout.
You wipe your brow with your forearms. Your watch beeps, signaling the hour has changed. The blood-orange sun sets outside, casting a dim hue over the neighboring buildings. Time to get him out of here so you can close up shop and take a damn rest.
“Let’s finish this up, boy.” Before the speedy Cleaner can react, you stand and swing your legs over him, shorts tightening over your thighs resting on either side of his waist. Strands of hair spilling from your ponytail tickle your shoulders as you’re now hunched over his pelvis to finish his tattoo. One palm rests on his shaky abs and the other furiously drags the thrusting needle over his delicate skin. Enjin tries his hardest to swallow his groans, teeth clenched and Adam’s apple bobbing and painted nails digging deeper into the chair.
“You could at least--shit--Let me take you out to dinner first.” Enjin turns his wincing into a brief smile before pinching his eyes shut again. If you hadn’t known any better, you’d think he was deliberately winding his hips upward to grind against yours. You press all of your weight downwards, trying to get him to stop, damn it. But it only makes it worse as your throbbing heat feels a slight curve under his gray pants. There was no calming him down. His brawny figure could easily overpower yours in any situation.
“Almost… Done…” You muster out those words of encouragement for you, to get through this before he realizes how heated your skin is from being pressed against him. You finish shading the inner circle lining his belly button. The thin skin reddening before getting covered by rich black ink.
With one quick gust of your heated breath against his body, you finally stop the tattoo gun. The only sounds in the shop are both of your sharp intakes of breath as your muscles relax. Your spent arms fall to your side like jelly. You sit completely on his lap, taking in his panting figure underneath you. His flaring amber eyes look up at you.
“Should I tip you extra for the lap dance?”
You toss your gun to the table and raise your open palm to slap his chest, he raises his arms defensively. He’s still cackling uncontrollably, his muscles rippling under his skin with each guttural sound. You’re too caught up in beating his ass to hear the familiar chime of the doorbell.
“Hey, you take walk-ins--oh!” The customer’s mouth remains in a wide “O” as you whisk your eyesight to him. Your arms are still restricted, as Enjin’s hands have a tight grip on your stiff wrists. He twists to look at the door, still on the defensive.
“Sorry, our appointment’s going a bit over. You wanna wait in the lobby?”
The customer backs out without another word. Enjin turns back to you with a wild grin. You rip your hand away and your palm finally connects with his face and wipes off that dimpled smirk of his.
“You raise the prices on me or somethin’?” Enjin counts the bills slowly with a raised brow, hoping you’ll come up with a “Sexy Repeat Customer” discount, as he’s mentioned before.
“Yeah, fee for being a little shit.” You snatch the money from his grip and slip it in your pockets before he can keep acting like he doesn't know how to count.
“Love it when you talk dirty to me.” Enjin gives a sweet sigh before grabbing his umbrella on the way out. “Thanks, sweetness. See you next time.”
He winks once more before closing the shop door. You watch his figure saunter down the dimly-lit sidewalk before it disappears, probably into a nearby bar.
You wet your lips, still tasting the sucker’s flavor from earlier. You remember relishing in the taste of him still on the candy, a line of spit still connecting the little pink globe and his lips. Maybe the rumors that girls were absolutely dickmatized by Enjin weren’t so silly after all. You hadn’t even gotten to first base with him and you were grossly imagining him pushing his hips into yours again. In your mind, you weren’t cursed with clothing separating you both from finally feeling his raw skin on yours.
Your watch’s ticking still sounds in the empty shop. It’s time to clean up and go home before you keep fantasizing about the Ground’s most sought after playboy.
As the clock strikes midnight, you finally finish straightening up your shop. You grab your bag and go to the front door in two wide steps, ready to get the hell out of there.
Before your fingers twist the lock, you’re pushed backwards by a sudden intrusion. You catch yourself on a nearby waiting chair before looking to see who is dumb enough to come into your shop when damn near all the lights were off. The familiar smell of tobacco overpowering a woody fragrance hits your nose before your eyes adjust on the man standing in your shop.
“Oh shit, sorry. Didn’t think you’d still be here.” Enjin’s rich voice speaks slower than his usual quick-witted cadence.
“So, you’re just breaking into my shop then?” You straighten yourself up before trying to move past him. “Shop’s closed, hon.”
“I know, I know.” Enjin raises his hands in a surrendering manner. “I just wanted to talk to my favorite girl.”
You scoff, digging into your bag to try and find your keys. “Yeah, I’ve heard a lot about your ‘favorite girls.’”
The man gallivants over to the chair he was in earlier and lies down on it as if he’s ready for bed. You couldn’t roll your eyes hard enough in the fear that they’d get stuck.
“Come on, dude,” You tug at his thick jacket to no avail. He pulls it off, only in his uniform of a red sweater and trousers now. “Get out, I wanna go home.”
“We’re going on a field trip, now? I’m down.” He snickers while peeking an eye at you, seemingly waiting for your next move.”
Your hand rustles in your bag. You twist your fingers over the same seven items shoved carelessly in it. Where are your keys?
“Enjin, you seen my key’s around here?” You toss your bag on the ground and kneel down to get a closer look. Shit, shit, shit… You couldn’t call a locksmith again. They’ll try to steal half of today’s earnings and you are too stingy for that.
“Nah. I can drive you home, if you’re interested.”
“If I had a death wish I’d take you up on that.” You remember his friend Gris telling you about how he frequently has to hold on to other passengers when Enjin’s driving. That little Spherite almost got launched out of the Jeep’s window once when Enjin hit a pothole.
His voice got closer as a shadow covered the inside of your messy bag. You looked up to see his wicked smile peering down at you like you were his meal. You stand even though you’re still looking up at him to maintain eye contact. Enjin’s eye contact was like the vicious sun during midday hours. It was intense and stifling. It made your skin just as hot, too.
He raises a wide palm to rest on your cheek, a tender touch that contrasts his frivolous way with words.
“It looks like we’re stuck here, then.” He drags the rough pad of his thumb against your bottom lip. You instinctively wet your lips, catching the digit in your mouth. He’s the first to break the stifling eye contact, looking at his thumb disappearing behind your lips. You sweep your tongue around it before lightly sucking on it, eliciting a low groan from him
He pulls his hand away and in an instant you’re on you’re sitting on your leather chair, designated for your customers. With him planted firmly inside your parted legs, he leans down to meet your lips. There’s no sweetness in the way he grabs the nape of your neck to keep you still as his tongue slips into your hot mouth. His other hand grips your bare thigh with more strength than he should.
As his tongue messily slides over yours, you can't help but delight in finally tasting him. The bitter taste of cigarettes and alcohol is still hot in his mouth. You tug his sweater before he finally gets the idea and briefly separates from you to pull the pesky clothing off. Wet lips cling to your neck and it only increases the nagging pressure in your stomach. Enjin pushes you further back on the chair until you are lying down.
You don’t have any objections when he all but rips your shorts off in one quick draw. His hands return to your legs where he kisses every inch of skin up to your panties. A shock of pleasure jolts up through your entire nervous system as he presses his lips against the obvious wet spot growing between your legs.
“I knew you were always so wet for me,” His voice a deep whisper. “I just couldn’t prove it.”
“Are you gonna keep teasing me or finally fuck me--oh!” Your words catch in your throat as your tattered panties join your shorts on the floor. His thick finger slips over your puffy folds. Embarrassing squelches fill your shop, followed by moans you’re biting back. Not for long, though, as his free hand grabs your face and squeezes your cheeks so you make a nice “O” with your mouth.
“Don’t hold back on me, pretty girl. Keep that smart mouth talking for me.” The drunken joy in his voice is obvious when he slides his finger inside your pulsing hole. “Or are you gonna let her do all the talking for you?”
With just one finger he already has you arching your back upwards to him as he stands beside the chair. The light above his head casts a contradicting heavenly aura behind Enjin. His eyes are low and red and you wonder if he’s under more than the influence of alcohol.
All thoughts are pushed out of your head when he finds that sweet spongy spot that makes your legs start to shake. The flushed skin of your legs sticks to the slippery material as your hips grind onto his single finger.
“Aww, does she want more?” He bends his finger upwards with slow precision. “Use your big girl words and maybe I’ll give you what you want.”
He bats his wispy eyelashes at you. He keeps pulsing his finger upwards before sliding another finger inside. A long-winded moan makes the corners of his mouth turn upwards.
“Good enough. I’ll give you a proper thanks now.”
Enjin’s fingers start their aggressive attack on your poor convulsing hole. His other hand lets go of your face to snap your bra off. The pads of his fingers twist and pull at your hardened nipples before slipping to your lower pelvis. His fingers push deeper and faster inside your weeping hole as he pushes down on your stomach. The pressure makes your eyes water until tears run down your cheeks, mimicking the juices splatting over Enjin’s hand and the chair.
“There it is,” Enjin leans closer to start giving sloppy kisses to your clit.
Brash licks mixed with pursed lips sucking on your sensitive bundle of nerves turns you into a complete mess. He pulls his mouth off of your pussy to put his lips back on yours in a messy makeout session that has you closer to reaching the height of pleasure. He pulls away to look down at the drenched mess between your legs. He pulls his fingers out with a loud squelch to vigorously rub your clit, up and down, back and forth.
“Fuck, Enjin. I’m too sensitive.”
“Don’t give up on me now, sweet girl. Just come for me…” His hands speed up faster than any human hand should, rubbing the button between your slick folds mercilessly. “Right… Now…”
You grip his bare arms as you shudder out the pinnacle of your climax. His amber eyes blur as flashes of white are all you see before shutting your eyes. Your heartbeat is deafening in your ears. You feel his hands slip up your tank top before ripping it off. You allow him to sweetly lick at your nipples, still erect from the remnants of your orgasm. Faint rustling and a belt clanking on the hardwood floor is heard before you open your eyes to see him crawling over you.
“You feeling good now?” He nuzzles his face into your neck before biting at your shoulder. He licks the wound tenderly. “Or am I gonna have to help you out a little more?”
You sit up on your elbow and pull him down by his wild hair. You push two fingers into his mouth, stunning him, but he wets them obediently. You pull them out with a “pop” and wrap your hand around his girthy cock. It’s no shock he’s already hard, stringy webs of precum dripping from his tip.
“How about my favorite customer slips inside of me before I change my mind?”
“Say less, baby girl.”
You rub his throbbing mushroom tip against your folds, gathering slickness over every vein you can’t wait to feel inside of you. He swats your hand away and pushes in slowly, letting your tight hole adjust to his size. His breath mingles with yours as you pant into each other's mouths like you’re two dogs in heat.
You bring your sight to where your two bodies meet and it makes you grab his shoulders, indenting deep crescents into his marked skin.
“You like that?” He reels his hips back before pushing all the way in again. “You like seeing how you take me so well?”
Your gummy walls practically suck him back in after every thrust. Your attention comes to his newest tattoo, the raised skin flushed red.
“Fuck, wait--” You muster up weakly. “You need to be careful with that.”
“You’re so thoughtful.” He stops his wild thrusts only when his soft happy trail is flush against your mound. “But I don’t half-ass any job.”
Before you can object, he smacks his palms on the back of your thighs and pushes them to your chest. His hips jack hammer you roughly, balls slapping against the skin of your ass as he groans sinful sounds of pleasure in your ear. Your dulcet moans only encourages him to force your knees to your ears as every ridge of his thick cock spikes into all of your sensitive spots.
Your trembling knees and convulsing pussy are a pleasurable giveaway to Enjin that you’re close.
“Fuck, clenching me so tight, baby.” Enjin’s velvety voice hits your ears.
“I’m so--So close.” You moan in response, feeling your sticky skin get impossibly hotter against his tatted body.
“I’ve got you, baby.” His dick starts twitching against your walls. “Come one more time for me, pretty.”
Your moans reverberate off the thin walls as the wound up coils in your bulging tummy burst loose. Hot streams of his cum warm you from your puckering hole to your cervix as his thrusts become more ragged. Once he’s finally drained, he drops your legs to rest on your chest.
“How’s that for a tip?” Enjin purrs against your breasts.
You giggle at his lame joke and become limp under his weight. A glint of silver on the floor catches your eye. Slipping out of the pocket of his discarded jeans are--
“My keys!?”
Enjin’s staggered breath hitches in his throat. “Oh… How’d those get in there?”
a/n: wowowowo ty for reading like/reblogs are always appreciated <3
satoru vied for your attention on campus. how far would he go to get it?
content: yandere!nerdgojo, college!au, stalking, brief mention of blood, minor violence, explicit sexual content, mdni
Nerdjo who knew, as soon as he laid his eyes on you that there would be no one else he’d ever need in life.
You walk around campus with your head high, shirts tight around your bouncing breasts, hips swinging in a tight skirt with a beaming smile. He sits in the cafe you always walk past every Wednesday at exactly 8:25 am on the way to your Stats class. You don’t like math, you’re very bad at it. He knows this because he hears you tell your friends this as you reach the door. He hears that you’ll need a tutor or you’ll fail. That’s the last thing he hears before the solid double doors slam in his face behind you.
No one ever notices him. Not even you. Not yet.
Nerdjowho sees your post about needing a tutor on your Instagram story.
He wastes no time looking at all of your DMs from losers around campus who think they actually have a shot with you. However, you were silly enough to use the same password for everything.
You poor thing. So forgetful.
Nerdjo who can’t help the sudden rage pulsing through his veins when he sees you actually responded to this vile asshole from the football team. This wasn’t an isolated incident. He had been talking to you for weeks, pathetically trying to meet you. You give in this time. You two flirt back and forth before you take him up on his offer. Tomorrow. 7 pm. At the back of the library.
Nerdjo who joins your little study session to make sure you’re okay. And thank heavens he did. This soggy jock-strap doesn’t even know that the standard deviation in number seven is 6.58. Satoru was kind enough to buy the same book you had just in case he needed to step in.
After seeing how this creep’s eyes lingered on your exposed legs in that dainty delicate skirt you bought a few months ago, he needed to step in soon.
Nerdjo who is tired of pumping his fist to pictures that lie deep in a “secret” folder on your phone. His new favorite is one you sent to your girl friends before you got ready for tonight’s party. Fresh out of the shower barely covered in a towel that didn’t wrap all the way around. That provocative side angle of skin from your stomach to your upper thigh just glowing for him. He imagined his tongue sliding over those crystal drops that were stuck to your skin. For now, the metallic taste of his phone screen would do as he tugs at his length a few more times before finishing into his fist.
Nerdjo who called his brother, University’s beloved frat president Satoshi Gojo, for one little favor.
“Twinnnn,” Satoshi’s coy tone sings on the other line. “Where have you been?”
“I need a favor.” Satoru grits through his teeth on the other side of the library. He never takes his eyes off of his precious girl.
“That’s a first. ‘Sup? Make it quick I gotta haze some fuckers soon.”
“Are you having a party this weekend?”
“Uhhh, does 2+2=5? Obviously.”
“I’ll be there. And I need you to make sure someone is invited.”
Nerdjo who had never been to one of these riotous parties his brother and his fraternity brothers often hold. Before tonight. He knows, without a doubt, you’ll be here.
And speak of the angel, there you are. You wear black crop top that ends right above your navel. Down that hourglass waist is a denim skirt hugging those wide hips Satoru couldn’t wait to get his sweaty palms on.
You and your friends are greeted by his brother who thanks you for showing up to his humble abode, a 50,000 square foot mansion resembling a Victorian mansion. He slips you a wink as they go deeper into the party, disappearing among the hundreds of inebriated partygoers.
A roar of cheers erupts and Satoru looks at the source of the commotion. Him. The tutor who tried to get handsy with you a few days ago. You didn’t fall victim to his juvenile trick of resting his hand on your thigh and trying to inch it up. You shrugged him off. Just like the good girl Satoru knows you are.
A few minutes later, the Vice President waltzes into the foyer. The crowd parts as Geto takes the new guest to the backyard for “the top-shelf whiskey” they have for special occasions.
Nerdjo who finds it easier than expected to take down this douche even though he was a lot thinner with fewer muscles. Granted, Geto did encourage him to keep drinking. “Don’t be a pussy. You’re in our house.”
Nerdjo who is crouching beside the pool. His long fingers are tangled in the jock’s hair as he dunks his head into the chlorinated water of the pool over and over again. He has to think of you to stop himself from committing a felony. Then he’d be away from you forever. And he can’t have that.
“Stay away from her,” Satoru sneers through clenched teeth.
The choking jock barely makes out, “Who are you talking about?” before his head is smashed into the blue water.
“You aren’t her tutor. You aren’t texting her again. It’s me.” Satoru has a death grip, nails clawing into his victim’s scalp. “Understand?”
A pitiful “Yes” is muttered over the sloshing pool and faint bass of the music from the frat house.
“Good.” Satoru ignores the man’s cries as he slams the jock’s jaw into the harsh granite beside the pool. “Oops. Missed.”
Nerdjo who isn’t surprised when his brother and the vice president show up to grab the wounded mess of a man on the ground.
“Sheesh, do I wanna know what he did?” Satoshi stumbles over the jock’s feet dragging beside him.
“We don’t ask questions,” Geto peers over at the other brother, wiping his hands off on a nearby towel. “We just get our essays done for the next month.”
Satoshi cackles as they toss the jock in the shed and lock it with a faint click. “Hell yeah. Now go get your girl, bro.”
Nerdjo who opens the door to the private office that only his brother and Geto have access to. He swears he could come right there in his pants at the pretty present waiting for him on the walnut executive desk that sits in the far corner of the room. Illuminated only by the warm glow of the desk lamp and the moonlight is none other than you.
You sit there with those plump thighs crossed one over the other. He follows the smooth skin of your legs upwards, that skirt riding up until he swears he can see a faint shadow of your panties. Your chest raises and lowers with a soft sigh as you twirl the ends of your hair in your fingers. Satoru’s eyes finally fall on yours. You were looking right at him.
For the first time ever, you noticed Satoru Gojo.
“Your brother told me he had someone reeeeall interesting for me to meet.” You slide off of the desk to close the gap between you two. Each slow step of yours mimics the thumping of his heart. “Said he’s not as cute as he is, though.”
“It’s true,” Satoru’s index finger nudges up his glasses that start to fog.
“I dunno,” You slip the glasses back down the slant of his nose to peer into those cerulean eyes. “I think you’re pretty cute.”
Before Satoru can think of something remotely cool to say, you smack your lips against his parted ones. His wide eyes lower when he realizes he’s finally tasting you. He runs his tongue over the taste of tequila and pomegranate chapstick on your bottom lip. You grab his hands, wet and clammy, before resting them on your hips.
Nerdjo who finally takes the lead and lifts you like you weigh nothing. You gasp into his mouth as he plops you back down on the top of the desk. Your legs open easily for him, just like he knew they would. He has to thank you for waiting for him so patiently. Satoru is on his knees in front of your damp panties, licking a thick stripe up your pussy. He knew you would taste as sweet as look.
Nerdjo who has you bent over the desk. A whining, panting mess that’s clawing at papers and pens. Your vision blurs from tears of pain and pleasure as Satoru grips the fat of your ass with force you’ve never felt before. Satoru glances at the window behind the desk that overlooks the pool, now swarming with half-naked partiers. The blood is all gone from the slick concrete, barely illuminated by the pool lights.
a/n: thanks for reading <3 other works here: masterlist
MDNI: as a phone sex worker, you get many customers. but none made your skin heat up more than a shy simp with voice so sexy you can't help but join in on the fun.
Choso never thought he’d end up panting into the receiver of his sweat-slick phone on a Friday night, but your angelic voice was pushing him over the edge one word at a time.
The air whistles past your window, the fragile wooden frame creaking with every blow of frosty wind. You hit your cold sheets with a dampened thud, too lazy to turn the heat up higher after your shower. No way the bars were going to be full of losers who buy you drinks in the hopes of getting you back to their filthy, cramped dorm room in the boys hall. A buzz from your phone gives you a hint of optimism before seeing your roommate’s name followed by a, “hot jock from lit class asked me out. i’ll lyk if he’s packing!”
Well, if you couldn’t get laid, might as well get paid. You grab your phone before it slips between the cracks of the couch. Muscle memory takes over and the little pink app with a silhouette of thick lips and a tongue wetting them welcomes you with a bombardment of ringing and buzzing, signalling missed calls and voice messages. You weren’t the only one looking for… Some kind of action.
You discovered “SweetTalk” through an annoying AI ad with a woman swimming in money and a robotic voice droning about how easy it was for women to make quick cash on the side by becoming a “pen pal”. Boredom and curiosity got the best of you, and soon you were the top worker at a phone sex company. You didn’t realize your voice, which had once called out coffee orders, could be used to pay for the couch you were sitting on in the dorm you easily paid rent for.
As a prior Employee of the Quarter, and someone who didn’t want to wear a tacky apron again, you knew how to keep men on the line and rack up their bill. Was it kinda gross hearing guys who sound oddly like your Critical Theory professor self-gratify for half an hour? Yes. But a girl’s gotta do what a girl’s gotta do. And you have your eyes set on a new designer bag.
Your phone buzzes with an invitation.
“XxCHxX wants to call! Answer now or take a message?”
For privacy reasons, the app was completely anonymous. Profiles only include their age, location, and a snippet of their voice. Twenty-five and in the same city. You don’t get many calls from men that are in your same age range. They don’t pay as well. But given your situation, you know you might not have many options. You straighten your posture and clear your throat with a few quick coughs.
“Hi, honey. What’s going on tonight?”
You only hear shallow breaths on the opposite end. Freaks like this were common.
“You know, it’s more fun if you say something…”
“S-sorry, I didn’t realize you would actually pick up…”
His voice is different from the unsteady, croaking voices you normally force yourself to listen to. It was deep, rich, and made you unconsciously clench your legs.
“Honestly, I was really bored tonight… Until I got a call from you.” Long gone was the wavering tone and clenched fists you used to get. You got over all the cringing once you realized men eat that shit up.
“Oh, that’s nice.” He wasn’t sarcastic or shaky, but… flat? Was this guy really only looking for a friend?
Always one to keep the conversation going, you push him for more.
“How about you, honey? Work got you stressed? Anything I can do to help you?”
“Um, I’m not sure…”
Jesus, what’s this guy’s deal? You rip your phone away from your ear to see the call time: 1 minute and 10 seconds. Not willing to risk losing what might be your only customer tonight, you take a swift breath and hide all annoyance that might threaten to slip through your persona’s sultry demeanor.
“Maybe I can help you figure it out…”
-choso's pov-
Choso had no clue what he was doing downloading an app that promised him a “Good time with a sexy single in his area” but here he was, sitting on the edge of his bed with his work uniform still on. His loose white tee misshapen from years of wear from whoever donated it to the vintage shop he frequents and his baggy jeans suddenly feeling too heavy on his body.
He slicked his raven hair backwards with one hand, his other still holding his phone, albeit shakily.
“How can you help?”
The candied voice on the line responded quickly. Choso’s anxiety made him think she was getting rather impatient with him.
“What are you wearing?”
“Just…” Wait. He knows this line. He’s heard it before in the hallways when guys would talk about how they got their female classmates to send them revealing pictures. Was she expecting him to say something sexy?
“A really tight t-shirt. And jeans. They’re tight. And black.” Women liked a minimalist man, right? He didn’t want to do too much, but he also didn’t want to lie.
“How about we take off those really tight clothes, baby?”
“Oh, of course…” Choso tosses his phone with a little too much force, it slips onto the floor with a thud. His shirt almost rips as he flings it over his head. He slipped his jeans down his toned thighs and stood up, shuffling the cuff of his jeans off his ankles while trying to pick up his phone. He curses himself under his breath, hoping his love interest for the night didn’t hang up.
“Hello?”
“I’m still here. But I’m a little upset…”
He fucked up. He doesn’t know how but he did… His voice is weird. She probably has someone better calling. Could she hear his pathetic thoughts through the phone? She answers before he can continue theorizing.
“You haven’t asked me what I’m wearing.”
“Right,” Choso’s husky chest deflates with a sigh of relief. “How rude of me… What are you wearing?”
“Just a towel… I showered right before you called.”
If he hadn’t taken his jeans off, his dick would have been pressed snugly against his zipper, ready to burst.
“You should get comfortable too…” Shit, was that too forward?
Her voice is sweet and slick like honey, and melted right in his ears like it, too. “Anything for you.” On the other end, he hears a quick rustling.
“Now that we’re all cozy, why don’t you tell me what you feel like?”
“Right now, I guess I would say I’m excited, a little cold--”
“No.” Her stern voice stops his rambling and fidgeting as if he’s under hypnosis. He’s convinced he would rob a bank if she told him to. “I want to know how you feel down there. Between those thighs. I want to know how hard you are right now.”
So. Fucking. Hard. Choso catches his lip between his teeth, his tongue rolling over the soft skin.
“Tell me.”
Eager to please the woman he’s only known for five minutes, he stutters out a pathetic “Really, really hard. It hurts.”
“My poor boy…”
More sticky clear liquid spills over his reddened tip. If she said that… phrase one more time he would finish right there over his stomach.
“Please, help me fix it.” He’s afraid his begging falls on deaf ears when there’s nothing but slight shifting on the other end. “Please-”
“Put one hand around your dick for me. But don’t move it.” Her voice is still soft, panting sweetly in between demands. “Don’t move until I tell you to.”
Choso, being such a good boy, wraps his thick, shaky palm around his fully erect cock. He resists the devil on his shoulder telling him to pump furiously as she speaks to him.
“Spit on it for me.” A long clear string from his lips immediately spatters over his bulbous tip. “Now stroke yourself slowly.”
Choso lets out a deep groan, slow relief eliminating the neediness the woman on the phone had been injecting him with like a poison with no cure. He didn’t want one if it had him feeling this good. As he dragged his wet palm up and down each throbbing vein he whispered small “thank you”’s to his savior on the phone.
“Please, tell me what you feel like… Can I ask that?” Desperation is embedded into every word uttered out of his pink plump lips.
Choso closes his eyes as her melodic voice seeps into his head.“I’m unbelievably wet for you. Do you want to hear?”
It felt like the skies opened and an angel was there to answer his very prayer. “Yes! Yes, please.”
Before he can mutter more meek praises, Choso is blessed with wet, salacious noises that make him pump his fist faster.
“Oh fuck, I can’t hold it…” Choso gathered more spit to wet his pulsing dick. Every squelching stroke of his fist gained speed as heat filled his lower abdomen.
The illicit noises from the other side of the call were replaced with equally sexy moans. Choso’s angel was panting with him. Her once dominant voice is replaced with syrupy gasps.
Choso’s sinful moans fill the room as he pleasures himself unabashedly. A long groan bellows from his chest as he releases his thick load with one last tight tug at his member. Hot white spurts of cum mixed with the cold beads of sweat as the mixture dripped down his torso to the soft patch of hair trailing down from his navel.
He opens his eyes slowly, his long eyelashes wet from tears of pleasure. Shit, where’s his phone?
He finds it at the edge of the bed and is relieved when he sees the call is still ongoing.
“Hello? Are you there?”
“I’m here, baby.” Light pants are in time with his own. “Thank you for spending the night with me.”
Choso felt a tinge of sadness mixed with guilt as he looked at his bedsheets damp with his own sweat and release. “Yeah… Thank you.”
For what seems like a minute, they do nothing but fill the silence with their breaths.
“You know, you aren’t that far… If you want to do this again…”
The angel from earlier heard his second prayer. Was Choso the luckiest simp in the world?
“Please… Any time. I’ll give you my schedule. I’ll give you my number. Just tell me.”
He thought he could finish again with how her laughter made his skin grow hotter. “Don’t worry, we’ll be in touch. For a lot cheaper too. Bye, honey.”
Choso forgot he was getting charged by the minute. But considering how fast he fell asleep after getting his balls drained like never before by one of the sweetest voices he had ever heard, whatever the cost, it was worth it.
a/n: i had this thought and needed to write it before it died like the rest of my ideas ~and~ to get out of writers block. ty for reading!
singlefather!nanami didn’t expect his son’s teacher to be so young, so caring, and so beautiful.
a/n: part II has been uploaded~
The sun seems to take joy in your situation: the heat waves sink into your skin and make you even more nauseated by the second. Your sunglasses only do so much, bright glimpses of brightly colored jungle gym and greenery stabbing your peripheral vision with their almost neon colors. The shadows of third graders running back and forth, jumping up and down made you feel like you were going through a bad trip.
Next time your friends ask you to come out to a new bar on a Sunday and that you’ll be “back in bed by midnight,” you will remember almost puking into the cafeteria trash cans at the putrid smell of corn dogs and mustard.
Poorly hushed whispers catch your attention as you glance behind you. The other third grade homeroom teachers snicker about something, covering their wolf-like smiles. One catches your eyes. You cock an eyebrow back, halting her laughter as she gestures to the others. Suddenly the keys jangling on their lanyards are very interesting.
You didn’t want to be a teacher. But your mom did you a favor helping you get this job after a sudden and embarrassing move back home. Who would have thought that excessive partying, constantly showing up late to your marketing job, and tossing a Le Creuset lid at your cheating ex would all lead you back to your childhood hometown?
Of course, your lack of experience and forgetting to do attendance every. Single. Day doesn’t help. But it’s your first year and you’ve been through a lot. They should know. This town talks more than the class clown you can’t control.
Bitches.
“My mommy says that’s a bad word.”
Shit. These kids need a bell on them.
You whip your head to the high-pitched voice ringing in your ears. You put a hand to your chest and try to not blow chunks on Nobara. A transfer from the countryside with a blunt bob and clothes straight from the Baby Gap catalogue.
“I still hear her say it sometimes to the neighbors when their dog poops in our yard and they don’t pick it up.”
“You need something, Nobara?”
“Yeah, there’s a fight over there on the track.” She juts a tiny finger behind her. Clouds of dust turn bright beige as you rip the sunglasses off your face. Sure enough, a circle of small bodies surround two more as they clumsily tussle on the ground.
“Why didn’t you start with that!?” You jump up and run to the kids before you and them are sent to the principal’s office.
It seems as if you’ve caught the tail end of the fight, with the lanky blonde kid standing victoriously over the smaller one. Not only did your student clearly lose the fight, but the resident bully of third grade laughs at him, shaking a toy firetruck in front of his face and taunting him.
It isn’t appropriate to call a child an asshole, but Naoya is certainly the youngest one you’ve met.
In one wide step you snatch the toy truck from his sweaty grip. You shoot your arm up to prevent his grabby hands from grabbing it back as you use your other hand to lift your student off of the ground. He looks at you with big bleary eyes, dirt and leaves stuck in his shuffled pink hair. No kid deserved to be harassed, but poor Yuji definitely didn’t deserve it. He helped other students with their work, cleaned up after himself, and even brought you stickers when you “looked reeeeallllyyy tired.”
The sight made your already increased body temperature reach a feverish level.
“What is your problem, kid? Do you think this is something you should be doing at school?” You yell louder than you should, making other students scramble back to the playground.
“He has something I want,” The snotty brat’s voice cracks. He clears his throat before he continues. “If he’s too weak to defend himself then I should have it.”
“You must not get enough love at home. Apologize now.” Yuji’s fist clamps on your blouse as if the wind might whisk him away.
Naoya turns to the kid by your side. “Sorry, Special Ed.” He sneers back at you. ‘By the way, you have ketchup on your cheap shirt.”
You look down.
“Made ya look!” He runs over to his homeroom teacher who blows her whistle. Recess is over. Little asshole.
‘Thank you, Miss.” Yuji wipes his tears on his blue coat. He’s close on your tail as you gather your other 18 students before entering the building.
___
The final bell of the day rings and just as you’re about to sling your purse over your shoulder and jet to your car, the tune of your classroom’s telephone echoes in the empty room.
“Hello?”
“Naoya Zenin’s mother is here. Says you yelled at him earlier.” The austere principal’s voice vibrates in your ears.
“He hit one of my students and stole his toy. So yes, I did.”
You both sigh at the same time. It’s well known that Zenin’s family is composed of assholes. To challenge one of them is to ask for immediate trouble.
“Yuji’s dad is on the way. You’re meeting with both of them.” You hear the familiar rustling and call out before she can hang up.
“This can’t wait until tomorrow? I’m really tired…” Wishful thinking, but you were used to pushing your luck.
“Apologize to both parties. Then go straight home.”
“Fine. Love you, mom.”
Click. Can’t blame her there.
---
“You have no right to yell at my child that way!” Mrs. Zenin’s shrill voice had been lecturing you for what felt like an eternity. You briefly look to your left outside the row of windows on your wall to make sure the sun was still out.
“You aren’t even listening to me! My son would never do something so vile like harm another child uncalled for. This child doesn’t even have a mother. And his father not being here shows he isn’t being raised right.”
Naoya giggles behind his phone. Yuji sits next to you, looking up at you as if you’re his parent. Where the hell is this kid’s dad?
“I apologize for my tardiness.” As if on a fateful cue, Yuji’s dad entered the room.
Red lightly blushed his fair, smooth skin, taut over his sharp features that transported you from a classroom to a museum of fine art. His tall stature loomed over all four of you sitting now-silently at the small table in the back of your classroom. You could see his pink lips moving but were unable to hear anything but the blood rushing through your veins in your ears like a bad bout of tinnitus. He laid his tan suit jacket over his lap, his slacks tightening against his thick thighs that couldn’t fit completely under the low table.
Yuji fleeing into the Greek God’s arms reminds you where you are and that you need a modicum of professionalism. You straighten your posture and glance at Mrs. Zenin, glaring at you while scooching her chair away from the new guest.
“I’m sorry, we haven’t met before…” You stand slightly, leaning over the table with one arm outstretched.
He gently takes your hand. His large hand envelopes yours as you both shake for a bit too long. You take your hand back before he can feel the sweat slipping through your palm.
“Yes, I apologize for that as well. My work schedule is quite busy. Please, call me Kento.” He wraps an arm around his son, now beaming upwards as if the sun had personified and entered the classroom. That was certainly your first impression.
“It’s fine--” You’re swiftly interrupted by the problem(s) at hand.
“Now that you’re here, we would appreciate it if your son refrains from being near my son. It appears Yuji,” She seethes the boy’s name as if it were a slur. “Cannot control himself around other students. My son is a fragile soul, you see.”
The “fragile soul” slams his hand on the table. “Damn it, I lost!” He continues tapping his fingers on the phone covering his face.
“Actually,” You cock your head to the side and try to speak from your diaphragm, channeling your mother’s firm inflection. “Yuji happens to be a bright student. He’s never had a problem until your--”
“I understand.” Kento’s weary eyes look at yours as if saying ‘It’s not worth it.’
Deep down, you know it isn’t. But you’re sick of feeling like you never have any authority. Both your classroom and own life feel like they’re going off the rails quickly and consistently.
Kento continues, “I’ll talk to my son and hopefully this kind of issue won’t happen again.”
The Zenins appear satisfied as Naoya and his mother exit without another word. Once again, this small city revolves around powerful families like theirs that have their claws into every business on the block.
“Thank you for your help, Mrs…” Kento sweetly ruffles his son’s hair that you were picking woodchips out of a couple hours ago. The sweet image combined with his caring, low voice makes the pit of your stomach heat up.
You tell him your name before your imagination takes your thoughts further. “Just Miss. Not married. Not yet. Not like I have any options or anything. Very single.”
Kento doesn’t seem to notice your sudden trepidatious effort at a regular conversation. Or he’s kind enough to not vocalize how desperate you must sound. You sneak a peek at his left hand resting on the table. No ring on any of his thick fingers.
God, can you have one single minute where you’re not sizing this man up to see if you have bed chem? His son--your student--is right there making siren noises.
“Yuji tells me a lot about you. He says you really like stickers.” You look to your wooden desk on the other side of the room. It’s covered from the sturdy wooden pegs to the top where your laptop and messy, ungraded pile of papers lies. Kento follows your eyesight. His laugh makes your heart thunder in your chest. “I see why we buy stickers every week at the store.”
“You really don’t have to do that.” Hopefully Kento picks up that you really mean it, taking them off at the end of the year is going to be torture. But you can’t say no to the kid. “If anything, I need more coffee after dealing with days like this.”
Kento nods dutifully. The sun catches his hazel eyes that twinkle upon contact with your own. They robotically scan your tousled hair held back by a headband, your tongue catching your lip between your teeth, down to your necklace before going back up to your eyes. You were used to stares, but mostly out of judgement. His gaze wasn’t disparaging, but curious. After spending most of the meeting-eyefucking him, you feel it’s only respectful to allow him to size up his son’s teacher.
“I hope you can rest well tonight. I know teaching is a very demanding job.” He slips his jacket back on, his blue button up tight against his torso with every movement. Yuji follows, grabbing his belongings.
“Thank you for coming on such short notice,” You stand due to not being able to handle the sight of looking up at Kento without wishing you were somewhere private. “I hope you and Yuji enjoy your night as well.”
“See you tomorrow!” Yuji waves, his toy firetruck and metal lunchbox clanking against each other. “Me and dad are gonna get you more stickers!”
Kento’s dazzling white teeth flash a smile in your direction, de-aging his face about 10 years. You give a final wave goodbye.
You should be relieved. The problem appears to be solved and your mom/boss will have less problem to yell at you about when you get home. But as you gather your things once more you feel the dopamine rush start to wear off.
It’s pathetic how much you already wanted to see Kento again.
---
Students rush into the classroom one by one. You greet them with a soft hello as they scrape their seats back and plop into them.
“Goooooood moooorrrnniiiingggg Miss!!” The gleeful voice rips your eyes away from the attendance you are determined to send before the end of first period.
“Good morning, Yuji--Oh.” The surprise in his doughy hands makes you forget anything else on your mind.
As carefully as he can, the boy sets down a small bouquet of pink carnations and baby’s breath cradled neatly in stark white craft paper. Pink, red, and orange stickers cover the envelope placed inside.
“And ta-da!” He hands you an iced coffee. Not just any iced coffee, but one from the cafe down the street with the freshly roasted coffee beans and bread in town.
“Thank you so much, Yuji.” Your words didn’t properly convey the words stuck in the back of your mind.
Yuji puts his hands on his hips and puffs out his chest like he’s the one who actually bought the gifts. “It’s no problem, Miss. Me and dad said to tell you thanks and to read the envelope. He also told me not to drop the coffee. Or to drink it. Sometimes he lets me take sips of his coffee before he goes to work---”
You respond to his story with soft nods, giving him the illusion you’re listening when you’re opening the card carefully as if it would shatter if dropped. Written in a script neater than your own is a note from Kento.
“Thank you for looking out for Yuji. I hope you will let me fully express my gratitude over dinner one night.”
A smirk involuntarily forms on your lips. You couldn’t wait to text the number at the bottom of the card and hear that velvety voice once again.
---
a/n: made to be a one-shot but im already missing him
