The Red Lass

[blkkizzat]

❝ HIS CINDERELLA CAUSE I MAKE IT FIT ! ❞              ⤷ Enjin x Fallen Spherite!Reader

>>>>>> Apparently Enjin has all the 'luck' when it comes to finding Spherites in No Man's Land. This time he's found you—a stuck-up Spherite noble—cast out with the trash. You're prissy, needy and an overall pain in his ass. Definitely not his type—but that slutty pussy sure is. ♡

>>>>>> 𝐦𝐝𝐧𝐢 𝟏𝟖+ for filthy enjin smut. enjin & reader are delulu & down bad. big dick!enjin. size queen!reader. bimbo!reader. sex under the influence. public sex. breeding. bjs. enjin is overall diabolical. but there's also a bit of plot too with some romance/fluff/humor. no spoilers for anime/manga. >>>>>> 𝐰𝐜: 13.1k

𝐚𝐧: major special shoutouts to @honeybunnnnie my trash daddy partner in crime, who beta'd for me and gave me lots of good lil' gems I incorporated here. we share one horny brain cell when it comes to this man and the amount of headcanons we have made based on this that I didn't even include is INSANE lmfao.

You aren’t Enjin’s type. 

That much is certain the moment he stumbles upon you after being called to check out a disturbance in No Man’s Land. Scanning the terrain of garbage, Enjin wonders if he’s hallucinating.

Still high from the night before—or maybe there’s a leak in his full face?

Either way he had to be tripping absolute balls right now because what the hell else could explain the giant kaiju-like plushie with bunny ears, wide beady eyes, and jagged teeth ripping apart trash beasts in the distance like they were wet paper towels?

But blazed or not, Enjin still has a job to do. Umbreaker sweeps him across the trash dunes in a speedy blur, but by the time he arrives he is already too late and the show is over. 

All that’s left is you: a young woman passed out in a pile of demolished trash beast remains and other junk. The giant kaiju-like plushie—now inanimate and no bigger than a hand—lay beside you tethered to your person by a keyring. 

Happening upon another giver in No Man’s Land wasn’t out of the ordinary, sure, but if Enjin thought he was high from seeing your jinki in action he had to be damn near in the clouds once he recognized your clothes.  

Similar to when Enjin discovered Rudo, he could immediately tell by your dress you are a Spherite. But unlike the threadbare attire of the scrappy tribesmen teen, yours practically screams wealth. They are the finest clothes Enjin has ever laid eyes on. Appearing as if they are woven from gold itself, despite the fresh layer of grime that settled on them.

You aren’t just any ol’ Spherite—you’re a Spherite noblewoman.

Keh, interesting. 

With a shake of his head Enjin scoops you up, heading back to HQ. They aren’t gonna believe this…

Enjin digs out a backup mask from his satchel—clearly not made for your face, because it slides right off. With an annoyed sigh, he holds it in place himself. Guess that’s his job now… at least until you wake up.

Although Enjin soon discovers a pattern of how unnecessarily difficult Spherites can be upon arriving to the Abyss—as the first thing you do upon waking in Enjin’s arms is to slap the everloving dogshit out of him. 

Fuck, you have a mean right hand. 

Enjin tongues a tooth to make sure it’s still there. 

“Let me go this instant, you filthy kidnapping degenerate! I demand you to take me home!” You cry out. 

Tears fog up the mask on your face as you clearly mistook Enjin for some kind of criminal with his ‘full face’ on. Enjin sighs, tightening his grip on you and taking the not-so-painless beating you’re dishing out until you reach the nearest city. 

The very second you both are in a habitable area for breathing, Enjin unceremoniously dumps you to the ground. He catches the mask, yet he leaves you to fall straight on your ass. The fall shocks you but Enjin’s sure what’s really got you stunned is the strange bustling city surrounding you.

Removing his fullface, Enjin crouches down to eye-level with you. Overwhelmed and overstimulated by the foreign place, your eyes dart around helplessly. You’re frantic, looking everywhere for some sort of bearing of where you are and avoiding the man in front of you.

Yet Enjin just waits, clicking his tongue and rocking back on his heels, for you to quiet your hysterics enough for him to get a word in.

When your eyes, still wide with panic, finally meet, he has the nerve to raise a brow—like you’re the one being dramatic and not the guy who literally kidnapped you.

“So, as you may have noticed by now…this ain’t the Sphere,” Enjin says, balancing a cigarette between his lips. 

You look at him skeptically—he says it like it’s nothing, while your world is actively falling apart. What is he even talking about?!

“I know this ain’t the welcome wagon you posh Spherites are used to but…”

Enjin pauses, exhaling smoke to the sky. Your gaze follows up, widening once you see the oddly shaped dome covering the city, a strange yellow fog in the atmosphere.

“....welcome to the Abyss, Girlie. Name’s Enjin.” 

Blankly staring at Enjin, you say nothing. The both of you in a mini stare down. Although you’re the first to give by suddenly bursting into sobs.

Rolling his eyes, a thought briefly flashes in Enjin's head that he should have just left you for the raiders. Hell, he could still leave you now—you’re calling way too much attention to yourself.

However, Enjin also figures that with you all but swimming in luxury on the Sphere, you probably thought of the Pit—your so-called Hell, or its inhabitants as mere fairytale.

Enjin’s inkling is confirmed when you calm down enough to piece together that your now ex-husband had hired a bunch of shady tribesmen to kidnap and dispose of you—all to collect your inheritance. 

Yeah, not your fault.  Enjin thinks and cuts you a break. 

For your own sake, Enjin somehow convinces you to come back to Cleaner HQ with him. He can’t return you to the Sphere himself—but he knows another Spherite who’s trying to make their way back. That small glimmer of hope is enough to lift your spirits, just barely. This time, you follow him willingly—though you still cry the entire way to HQ.

Shame how prone to hysterics you are, otherwise Enjin actually thinks you’re pretty hot. Noting how the expensive silk of your dress clings so damn well to your every curve. He’d sell your clothes while you were near the shopping district—but unlike Rudo, he doubts he could talk you out of them. 

At least—not yet.

But that thought is drastically short lived as Enjin spends more time in your presence. Sure, you could have gotten along. You could’ve even been Enjin’s type. Yet there’s one glaring problem: 

You’re an annoying, needy-ass brat.  

Besides looks, you tick off nearly every one of his dealbreakers. You’re ditzy, dependent and whiny. Basically Enjin’s nightmare.

Plus your snobby little ass never once thanked nor apologized to him over the following weeks.

Not after he saved you.

Not after he brought you back to HQ where you were welcomed with skeptical, yet open arms—as a new, very reluctant (you had no other options really) recruit in-training.

And you certainly never thanked Enjin, even after all his shit luck, when he was assigned to be your teacher and look after your haughty ass. You have the most indignant pout on your face when Corvus announces that since Enjin found you, you're Enjin’s problem.

“You have to be kidding me? I’m stuck with Trashy Poppins here!?”

“Yo, Trashy—what!?” The reference doesn’t land with Enjin but he knows it isn’t good.

Semiu nods curtly in agreement of the pairing, amused that Enjin finally has someone to keep him on his toes as she ushers you off to get settled in.

The fuck?! 

Lamenting being stuck is supposed to be Enjin’s line. Enjin had figured the logical move was to pair you with Zanka—the closest thing to nobility among the Cleaners—and let you bond with Rudo, a fellow Spherite, even if he was a tribesman.

But it doesn’t take long to realize neither boy can handle a grown ass woman like you. One flutter of your lashes and they’re useless saps—like the big sister he never had, you could soothe Rudo’s worst moods with a mere head pat. 

While Zanka, older and appreciating your more ‘robust’ qualities, trips over his own tongue trying to talk to you.

Both ready to do anything just to earn a few sweet coos—unless someone steps in.

It had to be Enjin. He was the only one who could ‘resist’ your charms.

Still, Enjin’s got his work cut out for him when it comes to you—especially training you for combat and figuring out how the hell you’re supposed to use that so-ugly-it’s-almost-cute vital instrument.

He tries not to judge. Really, he does. Jinki are personal—he knows that better than anyone. But still…the fact that you even have one? That’s wild.

A Spherite? A noble Spherite, no less—the same pompous assholes who treat the Abyss like a dumping ground—actually caring enough about something to pump it full of anima?

Yeah, that’s impressive, he’ll give you that. What wasn’t though was the name you gave the lil thing: Bubu.

Tsk. Wack as hell. Vital instruments deserve names with some bite. Something like—Umbreaker.

Still, credit where it’s due—you’re picking things up faster than expected. 

However, that doesn’t spare him from your nonstop bitching, though. The complaints come daily: the strange smells your hair absorbs, the absence of your sacred skincare routines, not being able to take a 30 minute shower, and how everything down here always tastes just a little off.

But the most absurd? The cherry blossoms.

You complain the most about not being able to frolic in your lush, petal-covered garden full of rows of cherry blossoms. Enjin’s never even seen a damn tree like that, let alone the acres of grass and flowers you describe like some bedtime fairytale. You haughtily anoint yourself as a floral herbalist, an expert when it comes to your pretty little flowers.

It’s shit like that on top of everything else that irks Enjin when it comes to you.

And yet?

Enjin thinks the most irritating thing about you is the fact that he can’t seem to stay away from you. 

Sure, you’re annoying as fuck—but in spite of his own objections, Enjin keeps finding ways to keep your time occupied. He makes up excuses to train you longer and drags you along on missions that are solely meant for him. 

Moreover, since you can never keep that pretty little mouth shut, anyone you meet clocks you as a Spherite within seconds—which means you need Enjin’s constant protection, whether you like it or not.

Enjin ends up spending less time drinking or chasing women, finding a far more amusing pastime instead—the way your face twists in indignation every time the Ground doesn’t live up to your so-called “noble standards.” 

He gets a kick out of it, really. Agitating you on purpose, just to watch you squirm.

“Goddamnit, Enjin! Watch it!” 

You’d shriek every time your short skirt went flying from a sudden gust of wind he’d whip up with Umbreaker. Enjin saves that lil trick for No Man’s Land when the others’ backs are turned.

“That’s Enjin-sensei to you, Princess.” 

“Choke—slowly, Trashy Poppins.”

You’d lunge for his mask like you actually meant to rip it off, but at 6 '3, Enjin’s tall enough that you never have a chance at reaching it. It’s all worth it too—Enjin’s already got every pastel scrap of lace you own burned into memory, each one tucked away like a reward for getting under your skin.

It’s a little sadistic, sure—the way he taunts you nonstop, delighting in soiling that polished image of yours to grind you into the dirt of the ground right along with him. 

There’s a fire in your eyes every time Enjin dubs you as “Your Royal Trash Princess”—or just “TP” if he’s feeling lazy. You never fail to rise to his bait, eager to prove yourself—and prove him wrong.

Enjin feels he’s owed a bit of amusement for all his troubles.

Doesn’t mean anything.

Yet the more Enjin pushes, the harder it is to ignore that your bratty spark isn’t just an attitude problem. It’s energy. Real, raw passion. The kind that could actually cultivate anima. He sees it best when you’re snapping at him, flushed and defiant, too stubborn to back down.

It’s trouble to be sure, but fuck if Enjin doesn’t love coaxing it out of you.

All it took this time to get you going was him doubting your so-called knowledge of plants and remedies— “what kinda ‘floral herbalist’ hasn’t toked one?”  

So now here you are, in the HQ lounge, about to smoke your first joint as a ‘pre-game’ to the happy hour Corvus organized for all the Cleaners.

You and Enjin sit shoulder to shoulder on a worn, black quilted-leather sofa that’s seen better days. The cushions creak as you nervously smooth your skirt and settle in, unhooking your jinki—Bubu—from your belt to set her gently on the table.

Enjin rolls a few joints with unhurried precision—like he’s got all the time in the world, and watching you squirm is part of the ritual.

“Bet ya didn’t have anything like this in your lil’ garden, eh TP?” Enjin quips, breaking the silence.

Nose already upturned, your face scrunches as Enjin tosses an extra bud from his stash into your open palms. You hated the nickname ‘TP’ most of all, too easily mistaken for ‘toilet paper’ and Enjin knows that.

You shoot Enjin a dirty look before letting your focus drift back to the brittle sprig in your hands—the first real plant you’ve touched since becoming a Ground-dweller.

You think you actually recognize it. 

Back on the Sphere, your family was among the wealthiest, and your garden was massive. You took pride in your green thumb—like Delmon, whose garden you’ve been meaning to ask about. You want to help, if only to see what kind of plants can survive in conditions this toxic. But Enjin never gives you the space—always hovering, always cutting in before you can finish a full conversation.

You brush off those thoughts but your frown stays as your fingers trace the bud’s dry veins. Even for a dehydrated sample, it feels wrong—brittle in a way that hints of sickness. 

“Hmm. We had something like this—I think. But it’s just another weed.” You say shrugging.

“Heh,” Enjin smirks at your cluelessness, “Would you believe me if I told you ‘weed’ is exactly what we call it, Princess?”

You roll your eyes at the inordinately simple name. It probably has a proper scientific designation—but expecting Enjin to know it? Please.

“We always uprooted them—weeds are unsightly in gardens, you know. A weed, let alone one sick as this, would definitely be pruned right away so as to not syphon nutrients from the other plant life.”

“HAH?!”  

Mid-seal on his joint, Enjin stops cold, staring at you like you just dared to commit some sort of sacrilege before exhaling a theatrical sigh, shaking his head in pure betrayal.

He can’t believe Spherities are probably pissing away the dankest shit ever cultivated. The thought was maddening.

When Enjin’s eyes do meet yours again, there's no amusement as he takes a rather chastising tone with you.

“Princess, for your own good, never repeat that in front of anyone down here…I mean it.”

You huff, but Enjin doesn’t blink—just starts sealing the joint again, eyes never leaving you as his tongue drags slowly across the edge of the paper.

You squirm, and that’s all the reward he needs. 

“See somethin’ you like?” Enjin drawls, holding the finished joint out toward you like it’s a gift—and not a trap with your name written all over it.

Turning on teacher mode, Enjin decides to school you.

“I know we mostly have ‘reggie’ down here, but still, it’s worth its weight in gold for its purposes. Not just for fun ya know—chronic pain, nausea, anxiety—gives a bit of relief from the ailments of Abyss-living you Spherites have so graciously bestowed on us.”

From his pocket, Enjin produces a lighter, shoulders curling as he bows into the flame to set it alight.

Your eyes flick over the sinewy stretch of Enjin arms, the way his jacket strains across his shoulders—reminding you just how solid Enjin really is beneath all that shapeless fabric. Built like a weapon, hiding in plain sight.

You watch as his ringed fingers lift the joint to his lips. Drawing in a slow, steady breath, Enjin sinks back into the sofa like gravity’s got a tighter hold on him than usual. Smoke pools in his chest before slipping out in a long, deliberate exhale.

His gaze follows it, distant—like he’s chewing on thoughts far heavier than anything you said… but somehow still set off by it.

“That’s the problem with you Spherites….you don’t see things the way they are—you see things the way you are.” 

Enjin chuffs at his own words, closing his eyes to let his high settle. Not even completely stoned yet and he’s already spouting off pseudo philosophical one-liners.

“Everything else is collateral, amirite?”

Ouch.

Toeing at the floor, you sulk in silence. Wounded from the verbal licks Enjin just dealt you. Mulling over his words in silence though, you know it isn’t that simple. Horticulture can be complicated even in the most ideal conditions. Just because a plant is viable doesn’t mean it belongs in every garden—some plants are just incompatible.

However…

You sit silently, your teeth worrying your bottom lip as you study the brittle bud in your palm.

…that doesn’t make it worthless.

Instead of exploring any potential use, you tossed the so-called "weed" out—just like everything else the Sphere deemed useless. Not even considering how valuable it could be. You can see why Enjin wouldn't want you repeating that mistake. Enough people already looked at you with disdain as it is. 

Sure there’s a lot of things you miss about it, mostly superficial things that had to do with vanity, but overall life up there was super sterile and dull. You’d never say it out loud but you are glad you fell, it was hard on the ground but it was liberating.

Sighing, you quietly concede. You hate anytime Enjin actually has a point though. It’s the worst thing imaginable—for your pride and for his already unbearable ego.

Cracking an eye open, Enjin curses under his breath. Switching tactics, he decides to replace the long look on his Trash Princess’s face. Annoyance would do just fine. Besides, there was no need for you to pout over it, you actually had a shot at redemption here… heh, the kind that might just work out in his favor, too.

“Y’knowwwww, we’re always learnin’ better ways to grow things down here, faster too...”

Enjin moves so quietly, you don’t realize how close he is until you turn—and he’s right in your face, barely a breath away. Swiping his ringed thumb across your cheek, Enjin’s touch is surprisingly tender. However his expression is entirely obnoxious, full of amusement from how fast your pouty little face flusters.

“...could be a nice little hobby that would do alotta good…and if anyone could figure out how to grow this shit properly down here—”

Enjin plucks at the heat of your warm cheeks, pinching just enough to tease and drag the moment into something more lighthearted.

“—I do believe it could be you—Trash Princess.”

Your eyes catch something deeper than just teasing in his golden gaze—but before you can dwell on it, instinct kicks in. You jerk back, swatting his hand away, shoving whatever that was out of your mind.

Enjin just laughs, unbothered, as you glare at him.

“And why can’t you get Delmon to do it?” you counter, arms folding across your chest. By now, you’ve learned Enjin usually has an angle for everything.

Right on the mark, for a beat, Enjin actually pauses. He hadn’t expected you to bring up the obvious—Delmon, the gentle giant practically martyred to the idea of saving what’s left of the Abyss. But Enjin’s roguish grin slips back into place, spreading wider as he leans in, unapologetically invading your space.

“Why? Well...’cause I asked you, Princess. The ol’lug has enough on his plate as it is. You can handle it alone, can’t ya?”

Truthfully, even knowing your interest in Delmon never strays beyond roots and soil, it still irks every time Enjin catches sight of you with him. You look every bit the noble—graceful, composed, eyes soft and curious as you gaze up at Delmon, eager to learn. It grates on Enjin more than he’d admit, knowing he’s never once gotten that look, despite monopolizing most of your time.

“Ya know—unless, your skillset just ain’t up t’par?” Enjin finishes with a shrug.

Wholly unconvinced, you see this for the bait it is from a mile away. Nevertheless, you can’t deny that you are eager to get even the tiniest bit of normalcy back in your life from your old hobbies. Planting something, anything, would be nice—even if it ends up being contraband for Enjin. Although you still aren’t quite sure why you can’t consult Delmon. 

“Ugh! Fine!”

You fall back onto the sofa and Enjin follows, his arm settling behind you, practically draped around your shoulders. You don’t even flinch. He takes another slow hit, smoke curling toward the ceiling, but this time there’s a wicked glint in his eye as he watches you. Deciding he’s babysat the joint long enough, he leans in with a lazy smirk and holds it out to you.

“Enjin—your eyes!” You blurt out, disregarding his invitation. “Is that just from smoking!? I can’t go to happy hour looking like some kinda zombie!”

Enjin sputters mid-laugh, coughing as wisps of smoke leak from the corners of his smart ass grin.

“Eh, well duh. Why else would they get so red when I smoke?”

Enjin coughs out a few more chuckles. You roll your eyes.

“I don’t know, Trashy Poppins…I didn't make the connection since the air quality down here is 80% pollution! You could have anything.”

While Enjin is amused by your sass, the joint continues to burn down. Each second unsmoked is wasting precious bud. Leaning in, his voice drops to a low purr—the kind that makes your stomach flip.

Heh, time to pull out the big guns.

“Aht-aht-aht, c’mon now, Princess, you know the golden rule…”

You sigh, thinking you need that happy hour drink more than ever right now.

“You’re not serious.”

But you know he is, and of course you remember the silly motto Enjin makes an unspoken rule for his team. Although he mostly just uses it to get you to do something you’ll usually regret later.  You sigh, knowing you’ll never make it to happy hour until you appease the big man-child in front of you.

Enjin’s golden eyes shine with even more mischief than before and together like some damn mantra, you both repeat:

“...it’s not peer pressure—it’s just your turn.”

Resigned, you click your tongue, swiping at the joint in his hands. But Enjin is much faster as he pulls back with infuriating speed. You glower at him, snark locked and loaded.

“Nah, actually I’ll help you out since it’s your first time, Princess.”

Innuendo coils around his words, heat radiating off him as you tense under his gaze. You don’t want to argue with him though, the sooner you smoked, the sooner you both could be at happy hour.

“Open.” 

Enjin’s fingers graze the corner of your mouth as he holds the joint to your peach-glossed lips, eyes darkening when you part them obediently for him.

“Now breathe it in, nice and slow…deeper. Yeah, that’s it—hold it. Don’t let go until I say—good girl.”

You want to scoff at him, but you can’t—not with tears stinging your eyes and smoke burning its way down your lungs. By the time Enjin gives you the nod to exhale, you’re already choking, coughing it all back up in ragged plumes.

Yeah, this was nowhere in hell as easy as Enjin made it look.

The buzz rises in your head almost instantly, an airy haze creeping into your consciousness.

“See? Not a terrible cherry pop, eh?”

The glare you throw at Enjin is more of a squint. Still recovering from the fire tearing down your throat, your coughs earn you a few heavy-handed smacks on the back from Enjin. If it’s out of comfort or mockery, you can't tell. 

Everything in the room is spinning and becoming more distant, like a daydream.

“Easy there, breathe—it’ll hit easier when ya figure out how to grow it right, Princess. The dank shit won’t burn this hard.”

You want to bite back that even if you do figure out how to grow the damn ‘weed’ plant, you’d never touch it again. But the sudden heaviness seeping into your limbs drags you down, tilting your head on the axis of equilibrium.

“I think, no—I know, I need to lay down.”

Not waiting for permission, you flop down onto the worn cushions beneath you, curling up awkwardly with your head leaning against the armrest and your legs dangling off the seat at an angle. 

Enjin doesn’t miss a beat though—he scoops your legs into his lap, tugging off your boots so you can be comfortable.

Leaning back, perfectly at ease, Enjin holds the joint in one hand while the other rests on your stocking-covered shin, giving it a casual, reassuring pat. The way your arm drapes over your face tells him everything—yeah, you’ve got the spins.

“Keh, you’ll make it, Princess. Just let it all ride out.”

You’d make it alright, but not to happy hour anytime soon. Enjin supposes he might’ve let you take a bigger hit than you were ready for. 

Whoops.

Silence stretches in the aftermath but it’s not uncomfortable. Enjin takes a few more lazy tokes, one golden eye cracked open just enough to watch you, taking stock of your state. 

It’s in moments like this—rare ones, when you’re quiet—that he remembers just how fucking smoking hot you are.

Especially in that Cleaner uniform. Man, God bless August.

The eccentric tailor took special care in designing it thanks to a sudden burst of inspiration—August even convinced Enjin to allow him to keep some of the trim from your Spherite clothes that he repurposes. The outcome of your uniform is shinier, more fitted and much sluttier than standard issue. 

You took to it immediately, without much fuss and actually complimenting August. That was August’s gift though—whipping up pieces to suit even the finickiest of tastes—and Enjin had to admit, the man did his big one. 

But the real surprise wasn’t the craftsmanship. It was you—his oh-so-prim little Trash Princess—strutting around in something so damn naughty. Dressed up like a treat that Enjin can’t help but eat up with his eyes.

And whaddya know? Enjin has the munchies bad right now.

Left to his own devices, Enjin takes his time devouring the sight in front of him. His gaze lingers down the length of your legs sprawled across his lap, to the soft, exposed flesh of your thighs—spilling over the edge of your stockings just enough to make his jaw clench.

Fuck, they look so soft. He can't help but wonder how they'd feel locked around his head as his eyes climb to the next indulgence—your crop top. Rucked up to your ribs, the thin white cotton hugs just beneath your tits. Shit, the way your cute little nips poke through the fabric makes his mouth twitch with the urge to say ‘hi’ right back—with his tongue.

Is it hotter in here, or—?

Leering at you for too long is a surefire way for Enjin to pop a boner. Enjin knows he’s not alone in that either. That uniform of yours turns heads in every city you pass through. Consequently, Enjin has split more skulls because of idiots trying to hit on you or cop a feel than he ever has for anyone trying to snatch a Spherite.

Not that he’s jealous or nothing.

Nah. Just doing his job. Watching out for you. Plenty of unscrupulous assholes out there willing to pounce on a clueless little thing like you.

However, right now, Enjin’s just as unscrupulous—‘watching out’ only for a flash of your panties as each restless wiggle sinks you deeper into the lumpy cushions, bunching your skirt higher and teasing him with a glimpse of skimpy lace.

Man, just a little more and he’d know exactly which pair you picked today.

Sobering up a bit more, you sigh at your inability to get comfortable when you could feel the very springs in the sofa. Stretching, you straighten your leg suddenly and—

“Yo! Watch the feets, girl!”  

Though there’s amusement in his voice as he jolts upright, tatted hands grabbing your ankle before you’re able to land another blow.

“Ah, sorry—” You mutter sheepishly, reeling back your foot. “I didn’t mean to kick Umbreaker.”

For what it’s worth, the apology comes quickly—you’ve learned better than to mess with a man’s jinki, especially Enjin’s. You've nearly tripped more times than you can count over that bulky extension of himself that he always keeps within reach.

You know it’s serious too when he doesn’t even bother with the stupid nicknames he usually calls you. Nevertheless, you’re left puzzled when Enjin’s laughter comes out loud and sharp. 

“...that wasn’t Umbreaker, Princess.”

Huh? What does he mean that isn’t— 

You freeze. 

Carefully peeking out from under your arm, your reddened eyes squint down the length of your body and onto his. When the realization does set in of what exactly you kicked, it smacks you harder than any hit of ganja ever could.

“O…oh…—OH MY GAWD!”

Immediately springing upright, your vertigo swirls with how fast you’re scrambling to your knees as you gawk.

Time passes for what seems like a solid minute or two and neither of you speak. 

You’re staring at the crotch of Enjin’s baggy pants and Enjin is staring at you.

“Heh.”

The devious look on Enjin’s face right now could shame the devil himself. Yet you’re still in utter disbelief.

There’s no way that’s his dick!

Still, your brain won’t stop running the numbers—high girl math with clumsy calculations drawn from the fleeting brush of your toes against the long, thick mass hidden beneath the fabric of his baggy pants. Enjin’s words ring in your mind like a gong—‘that wasn’t Umbreaker…’

“You’re burnin’ a hole through my dick, Princess—”

Enjin’s voice unfurls seductively, like the smoke curling from his lips.

“—keep starin’ like that and I’m gonna think you wanna see it.”

Your eyes meet his dead-on. 

“I do.”

“Yeah, I’m sure yo—wait, come again?!”

Enjin’s grip goes slack, the joint slipping from his fingers. He was halfway to some sassy quip, ready to taunt your denial—but your delivery is so honest, with no teasing or angle to play off, he doesn’t know what to do with it.

The embers hiss against his thigh before he even registers he dropped it.

“Tch.” Cursing under his breath, he flicks it aside—it’s all roach anyway—and tries to pull himself back together.

You’re fucking with him. Yeah. That’s it. 

Smug again, Enjin leans into the bit you started.

“Ha ha…right. I know my stuck up lil’ Trash Princess isn’t asking to give me a dick inspection…”

Enjin adjusts his pants in a casual sweep that doesn’t fool either of you. He’s not brushing off the remaining flakes of ash—he’s palming his restless cock that jumped at the idea of you actually wanting to see it.

But both you and Enjin would quickly discover, despite your snobby Spherite upbringing, you lose any type of filter and sense of couth while high—blurting out your thoughts unabashedly. 

“I said I wanted to see it, Trashy Poppins. Or m’not gonna believe you’re actually that big.”

You fold your arms, huffing stubbornly.

There was no way an unbearably annoying man like Enjin was slanging actual horse cock! 

He had to be the one fucking with you here.

Well, wait, no—a cocky, stupidly sexy man having a big dick actually tracks, now that you think about it.

But still—you need to verify. For science, if nothing else. 

Yeah. Science.

Enjin blinks, taking stock of you—kneeling close, your tits straining like they’re about to burst free, and your skirt rides so high on your thighs this time, he swears one more millimeter and he’d see your panties for real. 

“C’mon now…”

Your sickly sweet coos needle at Enjin’s spine.

“...as if you aren’t always upskirting me just to see my panties.”

Shit. You knew it was intentional?

“At least you can show me your undies for a change. If you’re really that big, then I’ll be able to tell.”

The spark alight in your eyes is a challenge to Enjin, who loves pushing your limits. Now he needs to know how far you’ll go. Even if he’s completely unprepared for this turn of events, he’s sure as fuck not gonna be the one backing down first.

“S’that right, Princess? Well, I haven’t even seen yours today so—”

Enjin doesn’t even get the chance to finish before you’re lifting your skirt and spreading your knees wider. You stare up at the ceiling, the popcorn squares suddenly appearing super interesting to you. Enjin’s eyes however immediately zero-in on the pink lace stretched tight across your pussy.

Christ.

With a much closer view, Enjin picks up all the little details he usually misses—like how the hem digs into your soft curves or how the material is thin enough to see the split of your chubby lil pussy lips pressed underneath. 

Goddamn, are you intentionally buying them a size too small? 

Or is your pussy print just that fat?

Enjin gulps, mouth dry. 

His attention caught like a hook to your cunt, everything else is unimportant—including the irony of how he was just teasing you for the very same thing—it’s all utterly lost on him. His priorities shifting rapidly the longer he ogles you.

After a minute, giving him quite frankly more of his fill than he deserves, you let your skirt drop back into place. The alluring spell of your fatma breaks when your  knees snap shut and Enjin is yanked back to a world that doesn’t exist between the apex of your doughy thighs. 

All of his lecherous starring is worth it though—if only to be able to throw his own saying back at him for once.

“Now, how’s it go again? It’s not peer pressu—”

“—Yeah, yeah, I got it, Princess—My turn.” 

Enjin relents, cutting you off with a twisted grin as he shakes his head.

“Ya don’t gotta break my arm to see my dick, babe. Just makin’ sure you’re sure. Don’t need you runnin’ off telling Semiu I flashed ya.”

Semiu is already on Enjin’s ass for teasing you as much as he does. Something about him being ‘too grown’ not to ‘nut up’ and ‘come to terms with his reality’, but Enjin was never listening for long, zoning out as soon as a new lecture was underway. 

However, if your prissy ass really wants to see his dick that bad, of course he’d oblige. Hell, Enjin would get another kick outta watching your horror when you realize for real just how much he’s packing. It had been a minute since he'd seen that look on a woman.

For being as hot and charming as he is, Enjin didn’t get nearly as much play as he should’ve. He isn’t a virgin by any means, but too many women take one glance at his size and back off expeditiously.  

Life on the ground meant hustling to survive for most. Nobody could afford to be laid up for days just because Enjin’s wrecking ball of a cock tore through their walls, rendering them unable to walk—let alone go to work.

Yet with a clink, that all changes as the leather strap of his belt and gear slides free. Enjin lifts his hips enough to shove his pants down past his thighs and there it is—short red boxer briefs with a black waistband, the fabric stretched thin over the obscenely long, thick outline of his dick resting along his thigh.

Simply put, your jaw drops. There’s a static-like silence buzzing in your mind as you process the monstrous mass of phallic muscle before you.

You’ve never seen a dick that huge in your entire life. 

Clocking your shock, Enjin’s chest puffs like he’s just been crowned a king in the room.

“Relax, Princess…” he drawls, smugness saturating every word.

“I ain’t even all the way hard yet.”

Bullshit! 

Your eyes pingpong between his face and his cock before landing on the obvious conclusion—no overthinking this time.

“What are you waiting for then? Get hard.”

Enjin actually chokes for real this time, still not used to how blunt his demure lil’ Trash Princess gets when she’s high. He manages to laugh regardless once he finds his breath as he sure as hell doesn’t hate this new side of you.

“Hah?! It doesn’t work like that ya know…”

Enjin lies right through his fucking teeth. 

Just hearing that vulgar command from your prissy lil’ lips has his blood surging south, his cock swelling at rapid speed. Already on go, his dickprint thickens, straining against the fabric until threads stretch thin to form almost obscenely over him like second skin.

Yet unlike his past hookups you don’t flinch at the sight of him getting even bigger. 

There’s more than enough incredulousness on your face for sure, but Enjin half expected you to backpedal for the sake of your pussy’s self-preservation and book it out the door. Instead, the look you’re giving his dick is more akin to awe than fear.

Truly, though—you are in awe.

Men weren’t like this on the Sphere. Well, your husband certainly wasn’t.

Older than you by over a decade, your husband’s stamina was so poor he never lasted long. His size, his endurance, and his dismissive comments about your sexual appetite being perversely unbecoming for a lady of your station had you wondering if something was wrong with you this entire time—if you expected too much from sex.

But when your eyes drift back to Enjin—catching the thick vein running along his length, visible even through the fabric—you know better now. 

It was never you.

The realization brings a surge of boldness. Your gaze trails the pulse of his cock down to the wet patch blooming at the tip—so much pre spilling it seeps through the fabric. 

Enjin inhales sharply through his nose. He knows he’s proven his size, but your silence and the way you’re eyeing his cock like some kind of museum exhibit is starting to get to him. 

Enjin doesn’t want to back down as he impatiently waits for your final verdict of approval. But if you keep staring at him like that, with those big pretty eyes of yours, he’s going to come in his pants, untouched, like some fucking cuck.

“Well, Princess? Big enough for ya?”

You don’t even hear Enjin, too lost in your own thoughts. Your body, buzzed and reckless, has a mind of its own though. Reaching out, your hand leaves your lap to trace the thick ridges of his cock, mapping its shape through his briefs. 

“Oh, shiiii—” Enjin hisses. 

His lip catches between his teeth as all thoughts vanish the moment your delicate little fingers start stroking him.

“Argh—fuck. Can’t jus’ go grabbing a man’s dick like that ya know.”

Yet Enjin does nothing to stop you as your touch grows bolder. Your palm flattens around his girth—too thick for even your whole hand to wrap around, even through his boxers.

How would someone even get something that monstrous inside them!?

Encircling his leaky cockhead, you giggle as your index finger slowly tap-tap-taps the mess he’s made there, amused at how many of the small, sticky suds you can gather on your finger through the material.

Enjin’s own laugh is strangled. This can’t be real.

“Heh… fuck… you really tryna kill me, huh, Princess? Fuckin’ tease…”

You’re unfazed by Enjin’s provocations – too mesmerized by the obscenely large cock in front of you that has you squirming uncomfortably as your own panties turn swampy with heat. 

“May I?”

Meeting Enjin’s gaze, your polite innocence is accented by a wide-eyed pout that’s far too sweet for the filthy implications of your request. Like you’re nicely asking permission to play with your favorite toy—except you don’t even wait for him to give it,fingers impatiently snapping the edges of his waistband like some cockhungry slut. 

“Uh…” Enjin blanks while his dick is practically screaming at him to respond—even a damned head nod would suffice. Yet his brain blue-screens as it registers that look—the normally innocent, curiosity filled look that he's been craving since he found you in No Man's Land—now twisted into something debased and filthy.  And best of all?

Meant just for him.

Enjin’s so fucking hard right now it’s painful—and hell, if you’re planning to do something about that, he’s not about to stop you.

“Keh. Do you, boo.”

Enjin manspreads, giving you full access. You eagerly pull down his shorts just enough to release his cock, and it springs free, thick and heavy. 

Good God, he’s a big boy! 

Although you knew that, seeing the monster in all of its unleashed glory was an entirely different experience. Enjin’s dick bobs back to curve towards his abs, a shiny pubic piercing shining at his base under its shadow.

Panting, your previously dormant inner size queen activates. You have to swallow down the bucket of saliva collecting on your tongue before you choke—you can’t help but salivate at the thought of what a huge cock like this tastes like… what it feels like. 

You’re pretty sure it could break you in two, and surprisingly, the thought excites you.

Lowering yourself on all fours, the first tentative lick you give Enjin’s length has his toes curling as he grips the sofa, ripping a chunk clean off the decaying material. 

You moan out a depraved 'ahhh' once you reach the top, a little smile playing on your lips as you tongue down the hole at his tip.  Greedily, you lap up all the little dribbles of pre beading at the tip and flowing out.

“W-Woaaah—ugh. FUCK!”

Enjin’s hand flies into your hair as he clears his throat. Sure, your mouthwatering stares made a blowie likely, but diving in this shamelessly? It’s enough to make him feel like he’s losing his damn mind.

You grip his base—an insurance policy to keep him from cumming—while your other hand cups his balls, giving them a gentle squeeze. His thigh jolts beneath you and you simper at how sensitive he is despite his massive size.

“T-There’s no way in hell they taught your prissy ass how to be this much of a slut up there.”

Pouting, you release his balls to cradle his cockhead against your puffed up cheek, uncaring of the amount of pre seeping across your jaw. 

“D-Do…do you hate it? My hus—um, ex said it was a turn off. H-he'd say I have 'the depravity of a slums streetwalker.”

Staring up at Enjin, your eyes are clouded with lust, yet edged with worry—like he’d threatened to rip something precious away.  But it’s only his cock you’re coddling tighter against your cheek, your lips parting just enough to chase the beads of pre that drip close to your mouth.

If you weren’t gripping Enjin’s base so hard he definitely would have blown a load all over your face. Fuck, if the thought isn’t tempting to him though – he doesn’t think you’d even mind in this state.  

Goddamn, you’re so much sluttier than Enjin could have ever imagined. 

And he’d imagined it plenty. 

Especially on nights Enjin stumbled back to HQ drunk and alone, having closed down the bar with Corvus and Gris. Left to sate his own booze-fueled boner, he’d shamelessly rut into his pillow. Yet, no matter where his perversions strayed, every faceless fantasy in the dark insisted on transmuting into you. 

You seriously think he couldn’t match your freak? 

Oh, sweetheart, you have no fucking idea.

“Hate it?” 

Enjin holds back the growl building at the back of his throat. There’s a torrent of thoughts swirling with his high all at once—all coming to settle right back into his dick. 

“Never. Show me who you really are, Princess—n’ I’ll give it right back to ya tenfold—that’s a promise.”

If you weren’t already trembling with arousal—finally free to let your freak flag fly—you might’ve shied away. Enjin’s easy acceptance of you stirs something deeper, something messy that you usually ignore before it can settle. Now, with his scent thick on your face and tongue, you’re not thinking at all—aching with the urge to all but inhale his cock.

You merely nod, flashing Enjin a coy smile before stretching your plush lips to wrap around him. Slowly, you swallow down his girth, mouth hot with suction so deliciously moist Enjin’s hips jerk up. You gag, but his firm grip on your roots keeps your head in place, forcing his length to breach your throat.

“That’s it, baby…open up f-f’er me—g-good fucking girl, Princess…”

Tears prick at your eyes as his cock pounds back of your throat. The stretch is brutal—but some desperate part of you craves more of his filthy praise. What you can’t take with your mouth, your hands make up for—stroking every thick inch your lips can’t swallow.

“Shiiiit, girl! You’re a pro at this.”

If you ask Enjin later, he’d probably call you a throat goat, however most of your “experience” came from the smutty paperbacks high-society wives hid in corsets and swapped under tea tables—not actual practice. You don’t really know what you are doing. You’re just following the book's explicit instructions. 

Still, Enjin doesn’t seem to mind being your test dummy. 

On the contrary, Enjin is more than happy to let you do your thing and he does just that. Although, the longer your head bobs along his cock, the more your skirt rides up—until it finally flips over your hips, giving him a perfect view of the cheeky lace framing your ass.

Enjin groans, gripping your ass with bruising force before sliding his fingers down to palm your pussy over your panties—fuck, you’re already dripping for him.

“Hah—uppity cunt gets this sloppy just from a lil’ dick sucking, eh?”

Enjin laughs, yet the gravel rattling in his voice betrays him. No one has ever fearlessly tried to deepthroat him and actually fucking enjoyed it. 

Unable to respond with your mouth, too busy still trying to do the impossible and fit more inside your throat, your hips respond instead—wiggling desperately against his fingers, begging for more of his touch. 

Enjin doesn’t hesitate. Slipping a tatted finger into your panties, he drags it through your folds, marveling at how wet and scorching you are. Pushing into your core, your walls clamp down, fluttering around his digit.

Oh fuck, even his fingers are big! 

A second ringed finger follows – the rough, callous fingers of a man who's seen too many fights scrape so good against all your gooey spots. Lewd squelches echo from your pussy as your throat tightens around him in tandem. The sounds, the squeeze, the heat—all of it is driving him crazy.

Shit he’s gonna cum for real this time. 

To his credit, Enjin tries to warn you—tries to pull you off before it’s too late. 

He doesn’t wanna risk pissing you off and having you refuse to ever do this again. Enjin still wants to fool around more;, he wants to fuck you. It’s that thought—your pretty pussy lips splitting open to swallow him instead—that has him busting his hot seed down your throat in thick, hot pulses.

“HAHH—FUHH!”

Releasing your hair, Enjin half expects you to pull away, furious he hadn’t warned you.  Instead, your nails dig into his thigh, steadying yourself. You moan around him, the vibrations rippling through his sensitive cock while you work him for every last drop, his hips jerking beneath you.

Only when you’re certain you’ve drained him do you pull back, swollen lips coming off his cock with a wet pop. 

“Allll go-neee S-Sheee? HAhhhhh~♡”

Tits jiggling as you heave for air, you present your tongue to Enjin as proof you’ve swallowed all of him. Every. Filthy. Drop.

“Oh fuck me… you’re a nasty lil’ Trash Princess, aren’t you?”

You can’t help but agree—your throat’s wrecked and your pussy’s aching to be used just as thoroughly. Enjin’s fingers aren’t inside you any more, although they are still on your pussy, running through your folds absentmindedly.  

“Ngh—n-eed m-more,” you slur.

All your decorum was lost to the wind the moment you asked to see his dick—you don’t even care that it’s Enjin of all people that you just gave head to. Suddenly, the obnoxious pain in your ass seems like your only deliverance. Right now, you're more frustrated that you've spent so much time bickering with him when you could have been fucking him.

You much prefer his moans to anything else coming out of his mouth.

You need him to get hard again—immediately!

Enjin, mind mushy with release, takes another joint out to light. As much as he wants to return the favor after that kind of sloppy top, the man needs a minute.  His high has his whole body tingling from the post release sensitivity.

But you can’t wait any longer. It’s been god knows how long since you’ve had a proper orgasm and those were only from your own small, fumbling fingers. Throat achy and raw, you quiver at the masochistic thought of how his cock is going to absolutely obliterate your pussy.

You slide your panties down before flinging off your jacket and top.  Taking a seat on Enjin's lap, you're now clad in just your bra, your skirt that's bunched up at your hips, and thigh highs. Grabbing his cock, you give his soggy, half-hard girth a few encouraging pumps.

Your pussy is already slobbering, a viscous string of syrupy slick drips down from your slit to land on his cockhead, connecting you to him as you line him up. 

Feeling your fingers around his length, Enjin's eyes fly open, balancing the joint between his lips as he quickly shrugs off his own jacket, checking the pockets.

“Woah, woah. Slow your roll there sweetheart—you’re skipping a few steps.”

You aren’t listening though, not giving a fuck what Enjin is talking about as you cry out, grinding your clit against his fat tip, before running it back through your folds.

Enjin grits his teeth, coughing out smoke as he holds the joint in one hand and your hips in the other. You’re being a brat again, not listening to a single word he’s saying. 

“Gotta find my rubbers…also gotta stretch you out better, Princess—you’re gonna split in two if I don’t.”

You whimper, petulant and needy. You press his cockhead against your entrance, swiveling your hips like you’re going to recklessly sink down on him at any second.

“Huh? Rubbers?” You shake your head in confusion, pouting. “m’Ennnnjiiiiin…I can’t wait that long—puh-leaseee don’t make me wait s’long, Enjiiiiin. I can take it, promiseee!”

The way you sweetly coo his name is shattering any sense of self-control Enjin has left. The urge to submit you to the ultimate corruption surges hot through his veins, but Enjin knows how big he is and while he did want to break you, he didn’t want to hurt you in the process. You are absolutely nuts to want to ride him with so little prep—now, on top of everything else, you apparently wanted him to fuck you raw.

Wait—did you just ask what rubbers were? Did you not have condoms on the Sphere?

But any lingering concerns dissipate the second you start fighting to get his tip inside you.

“Too s-slow!” You groan.

Fear is the last thing on your mind—evident in the way you impale yourself on him, defiant even against the impossible stretch. Your pussy is tight around the swollen head of his cock, strangling it as your nails dig into his shoulders. You grind in slow, desperate circles. Tears roll down your cheeks as you bite them to keep from crying out, your body fighting against every inch.

Enjin watches with a dark glint in his eyes – you trying so hard for him makes him want to flip you over and fuck you into the cushions. But he’d let you have it at your own pace…for now. 

Releasing your hip, Enjin spits into his palm, rubbing his slick fingers over your clit in slow steady circles. 

“Such a hard-headed girl—c’mere…”

Enjin takes a long drag from the joint, balancing it between his fingers as he grabs the back of your neck. His lips crash into yours before you can think.

You gasp and Enjin takes the opportunity to exhale the smoke deep into your lungs, taking the harshest of the hit himself. You're left with only the smooth, earthy flavor warming your chest before it melts through your limbs.

But it’s the way he kisses you after that really knocks the ground out from under you. His tongue pushes past your lips, tangling with yours—hungry, messy, like he wants to steal the little air you have left until you’re only breathing him in.

Your arms wrap around his neck, hands buried in his soft buzzed undercut, anchoring yourself. You moan into his mouth and he swallows it greedily, teeth nipping your lower lip before diving right back in. All the while, his thumb keeps grinding into your clit, faster now, like he’s keeping rhythm with the pulse that’s beating under your skin.

Why does it feel this good? How is he doing this to your body? S’not fair! 

Not realizing you could feel this good from a kiss, you're unraveling in real time. Your mind goes blank with every pulse, every word, every inch. You’re not even fully seated yet, but you can already feel the blunt head of his cock grinding against your cervix, the pressure building with each centimeter you drop. You never imagined you could feel this full—like he might actually breach your womb.

The thought alone has you trembling, unstable, your aching thighs giving out, causing you to slide down a bit too fast. The thick veins along his length rake across your g-spot and your body snaps. A sharp, helpless spasm rocks you as your breath catches and a small, unexpected orgasm rolls through you.

Enjin pulls back just enough to let you breathe, though your body doesn’t stop shivering, lost in a blur of pleasure and pain.

“Eh... did you just cum, Princess?”

The question is rhetorical, full of smug amusement, as he can feel the increasing wetness leaking down his cock, making it all the easier for you to slide down.    

Teasing your earlobe, Enjin’s tongue dips in to flick at the shell of it, making you clench.

“HA! Good fucking girl! A lil’ more and I bet she’ll be a real squirter f’er me.”

Enjin beams, proud of his Trash Princess. No woman had ever taken him this deep—not even close. Enjin hadn’t expected you to be any different. And yet…when Enjin looks down, he releases a groan deep from his gut.

The sight alone almost has Enjin nutting in you -- your drooling cunt spread so wide around his girth, sitting almost at his base. A thought flashes briefly – it's kinda like he’s a virgin again. Parts of his dick had never experienced this kind of molten heat so maybe, in a sense, he is? Enjin didn’t fucking care if he was though, as he ain’t about to be with the way your pretty pussy is giving way like it’s made for him. 

“Run that back.”

Enjin takes the final drag, pinching the smoldering end of the joint between his fingers before flicking it aside. He leans in again, slower this time. There’s no rush in how his mouth seals over yours. The second shotgun is less about the smoke and more about the feel of you—your lips parting for him, your breath syncing to his, and the small whimper you make as he sucks slowly on your tongue.

The haze spreads between you both, thick and warm. Simultaneously, his knuckles tease your clit, a soft schlick sound filling the space between you from you getting wetter by the second. By the strength of some unknown force, you finally bottom out, immediately collapsing into his neck. 

You both moan. Enjin feels you quivering from the inside out and you feel him everywhere—shifting your guts into your ribs. 

“I…I did it.”

Your smile blooms soft against his inked skin, lips grazing the spot where you can feel his own pulse hammering wildly.

Enjin’s in no state to congratulate you on your impressive feat. Completely sheathed in you raw, coring out your gummy walls into the shape of his dick—something in his brain chemistry fizzles. Like a bit of pussy juice, acting as a catalyst, slipped into his dick and traveled straight to his prefrontal cortex to corrode all of his previous thoughts about you. The result is clear.

Enjin doesn’t give a fuck if you are a snobby, annoying, needy lil’ brat who never let him get away with shit and bitches at him constantly—the furtherest thing from his type.

Because honestly?

Motherfuck a bullshit-ass type. Your slutty ass pussy is fuckin’ perfect. 

For the first time, Enjin realizes he might be in love with you. 

How could he even look at another woman after this?

One thing if for certain—Enjin is going to make damn sure you never have the desire to even look at another man.

Both his hands trail up your hips, groping and squeezing the plump curves of your ass before settling at your waist. His blunt black nails dig into your skin to pull you back from his neck.

Enjin whistles, admiring the stagnant stream of spittle lingering on your chin. Look at you—cockdrunk just from sitting on him. 

Enjin doesn’t think he’s ever seen you look more beautiful.

“Enjiiiiiin,” you whimper, not being able to hold yourself up. 

But your cries for him only inflame the predatory smirk on his lips, your honeyed cunt hugging his cock so beautifully. 

“Makes sense you fell from heaven, huh Princess?” 

Whether you're ready or not, Enjin forcibly winds you on his cock in slow circles. Your clit brushes up against the well placed pubic ring like a reward for being the first to experience it.

“—cause this pussy’s a fuckin’ angel.”

Your eyes are already lodged in your skull so you can’t even roll them at his cheesy line. But if your pussy is an angel, then Enjin's dick is most definitely a demon—his sinful cock tearing through your insides and condemning you straight to hell.

Moaning loudly, your body moves on autopilot—chasing more friction from the rhythm Enjin set. Good thing everyone was at happy hour or you would for sure be attracting some major attention now.

Although, to be honest you probably wouldn’t notice anyway. You don’t even notice when your bra falls away, your tits spilling out just so Enjin could watch them jiggle in his face. You only register its disappearance once his mouth latches onto one of your nipples, his tongue finally saying it’s ‘hello’.

“Shiiiiit!”

Your hips stutter, then stall when Enjin tugs at your sensitive bud with his teeth.

“Hey…I know my Trash Princess ain’t tappin’ out just yet.” 

SMACK!

Enjin brings a heavy palm down on your ass and your pussy clenches tighter around him. Enjin relishes the way your plush curves mold to his hands, each smack adding to the wet, messy sounds between you. You’ve already leaked enough on his lap to stain the sofa beneath you.

“Nah, ya just got on the ride, baby. Giddy-up.”

SMACK!

“NNNGH!” You weakly glare daggers at him. 

Any softness on Enjin’s face has since been replaced by something far more mischievous. If you thought he was obnoxious before—you’re about to learn he’s a full-blown menace inside of pussy.

Wobbling, you gather together what little resolve you have left to roll your hips forward. 

“HAAH! S’too biiiiiig,” you whine but your body can’t stop.

The juices saturated between you grant enough momentum to finally get a good, smooth bounce going.

“Fuck—that’s it, ride it like it’s yours, baby.” Enjin encourages you.

The way you cream harder every time he calls you 'baby' doesn't go unnoticed.

“Oh? You like me talking sweet to the pussy, baby girl?—Or do you just like being my filthy lil’ trash slut, hm Princess?”

Gritting your teeth, you grab on to Enjin’s shirt like reins, pulling him closer to you. 

“Y-You’re…gonna—ahshiiiit—hafta f-fuck m’better than thisss…if you want m-me to be your ‘baby girl’—Trash Daddy.”

Unfortunately, your sass falls flat—you can barely keep your head from lulling to the side. But Enjin’s thoroughly entertained nonetheless—he’ll take ‘Trash Daddy’ over ‘Trashy Poppins’ any day.

“Bet.”

Electricity runs through Enjin. He’s all charged up—now it’s his turn to unleash.

Your brow furrows from the noise Enjin makes—you’re not sure if he just laughed or snarled. But it's the only warning you get. 

Sliding down the sofa a bit, adjusting himself for stability, Enjin spreads his legs, planting his feet firmly on the floor as he bullies his cock up into you like he's breaking in his own personal fleshlight.

All you can do is go slack, falling forward on his chest. His grip bruising your hips, not allowing you to run from the way his blunt cockhead plows into your womb like a battering ram. 

The couch beneath you groans, its frame creaking under the strain. The wood and leather protest like the entire thing might fall apart at any moment.

“Enjinnnnn, m’slowwww dowwwnnn!” 

Your cries only fuel his frenzy and Enjin knows from the way you’re gushing on him you can take it.

Fuck—this sweet lil’ pussy is just so good for him. Imagine if he never met you. 

If you never—

Enjin cuts the thought off cold. 

Moving before you can blink—your world flips. One second he’s pummeling up into you, the next you’re on your back. 

Enjin peels away his shirt, muscles flexing as he looms over you. His hands curl around your ankles to keep them pinned overhead. A single bead of sweat catches your bleary eyes as it slides down his bare chest, gliding over firm muscle. The bold ink patterns seem to come alive on his skin. He looks so fucking sexy right now and you can’t help but to shamelessly ogle him.

Yet, there’s something much too serious and somber about Enjin’s current demeanor. You’ve been staring at him far too long to go unnoticed. The highly expressive, sassy powerhouse is rarely this silent. He should be teasing you right now, asking some smartass shit like if you’re ‘enjoying the view’. 

“Enjin?”

Your sweet voice hits his ears and instantly you have his attention again. Enjin flashes you a pearly white smile.

“Heh, enjoy the break, Princess? You wont get another.”

Ignoring the question in your eyes, Enjin folds you into a mating press, thrusting to the hilt all in one motion. The sound of flesh lewdly slapping against flesh fills the room, as do your cries.

But there’s still something else burning in his eyes. Enjin knows it’s unfair not to be honest with you, but taking out his unspoken feelings on your pretty pussy is the only way he can express himself at the moment. 

Suddenly, there’s a loud creak followed by a decisive snap and two of the sofa’s legs give out. If your sweat and cum weren't like glue on the old leather you’d surely slide off head first. You yell out in alarm, but Enjin doesn’t give a fuck about the damn sofa.

His mood is still soured by the thought that wouldn’t be shaken away until he confronted it—

If you never fell.

But you did. He found you—and now that Enjin has you under him like this, he needs to fuck the point he’s concluded into you:

If Rudo ever finds a way to the Sphere, Enjin will personally travel there and see to your ex-husband himself. 

Hell, he might even rail you in front of him a few times—show him what a real man could do. Maybe even a real…husband?

If the sounds of sloshing fluids and skin slapping skin weren't ringing so loudly in your ears that it drowned out everything else, you would have thought Enjin had lost his mind with the way he was cackling above you.  He sounds completely deranged, laughing at the idea of him finally wanting to settle down all while continuing to pound you deeper into the broken sofa.

But despite being high off weed and your pussy, Enjin’s mind has never been more clear—he wants to lock you down.

“Hah… P-Princess, can ya feel me in your tummy? Right…” Enjin’s golden eyes lock on the ever-so-slightly distended bulge from the monstrous intrusion in your guts.

“....right, here.” 

Throwing your legs over his shoulders, his large hands splay across your sweat sheened belly. You’re squirming under the heat of Enjin sandwiching your guts between his palm and his cock. Its all far too much—you’re too full, unable to really focus on what Enjin’s saying.

“Ahh, E-Enj—m’ c-cum, g-gonna mmm…” you hiccup, swallowing your tears.

Your nails rake down his arm to ground yourself but your body is thrumming too hard, adrift in the rush rolling through every one of your wired nerves. Your tits bounce obscenely every time your velvety walls devour his cock back down to the base. Enjin’s pubic piercing bucking against your clit has you clutching onto his dick like you were about to break it off.

You feel so fucking good. Enjin desperately needs to feel you creaming on his cock, and you would be soon if your kitten nails raking down his arms– adding more red to his already inked skin– were any indication. 

“That’s it, Princess, hah—fuck, baby, I got you. Squirt for your Trash Daddy.”

As if on command, the knot inside you coils to its breaking point, prickling every nerve, releasing a warm rush of fluids. Your body tingling in ecstasy, you quickly tumble over your peak, eyes blinded by speckles of brightness as you cum.

Yet Enjin hasn't slowed, his continuous pounding forcing more of your cum and squirt to gush out of you—the melody of his now drenched balls colliding with your wet ass only growing loude

“Fuck, that’s it. Pussy cryin’ like she wants my cum, Princess…” 

You’re barely conscious from all the pleasure, eyes rolling back into your head. 

“She’s jealous that slutty throat of yours got all my cum, now it’s her turn to swallow, isn’t that right?”

It’s a rather roundabout way for Enjin to ask if he can nut inside you, but then again, he wasn’t really asking. The thought of breeding you makes him feral. 

“Ahh—f’nnghhhh!”

Non-verbal and fucked dumb, you’d probably agree to anything right now. You’re an utter mess–pussy stretched beyond anything you thought possible, face sticky with slobber rolling down to pool in the folds of your neck. 

“O’course it is…gonna dump all these trash babies into my princess’ sweet lil’ cunt.”

Although you are super turned on by the thought of Enjin breeding you, there's no way you have any idea how serious Enjin is about putting a baby in you. How could you? You don’t even realize the love confession his cock is professing to you.

“FUHHHH—take it!”

Enjin pumps thick ropes of his cum into your tummy as his body thrashes on top of yours. The primal intensity has you vibrating as another orgasm rips through your overstimulated and overworked pussy. Filled the brim, his spunk overflows, sploshing out of your pussy as he rocks his hips, urging his seed deeper to plant right in your womb.

In the afterglow, the two of you lie off-kilter in a tangled heap on the broken sofa. There’s blood rushing to your head— not the worst place for it, you think, all things considered. Enjin’s weight is heavy, his chest heaving into yours, warm and sticky as he wraps you in his arms. 

Just as you feel you both might drift off like this, Enjin stirs. Flinching, you whimper as Enjin wills himself up, his cock sliding out of your pussy with a squelchy suctioning noise. Your knees part for him with zero resistance as he inspects his handiwork, peeling apart your battered pussy lips to reveal your dug out slit. 

“Whewww,” Enjin whistles at the sight of the thick creampie glistening in your core. “All this cum your cute pussy pulled outta me—you’d think she was my jinki.”

Sober, you likely would have slapped him for referring to your pussy as his vital instrument. But ecstasy clouds your logic, so high off endorphins and other substances, you only giggle. It is kinda funny you suppose.

“Yeah—squirtin’ on command like that. Definitely an attack type.”

Spread open, the thick plug of spunk froths out of you. But Enjin simply tuts, pushing it right back in, not wanting to waste a single drop.

“Yeah, how about that, ’mma duel wielder! Yup, definitely gotta name ‘er now—what you thinkin’ I should call her, princess?”

Enjin sees the way your pretty cunny is twitching, and in his pussy drunk mind, it's an approval. The spasms that still quake through you are like tremors of Morse Code—your slutty pussy agreeing with him, begging for more. Flipping you over on your belly, Enjin is more than happy to fulfill any request of his new vital instrument.

“Got it! Cumbringer! The Umbreaker and The Cumbringer. Nice ring to ‘em, dont’cha think?”

Cumbringer!?

Later, you would definitely regret being so thoroughly fucked out of your mind you didn’t put a stop to this. Enjin is most definitely going to be insufferably proud of himself for the next 3-6 business weeks. He’d lord this over you and tease you with not-so-subtle hints around the rest of the cleaners. 

Yet, as Enjin is swabbing his huge cock through your folds, you feel the ache of loss in your core, wanting to be filled again and you can’t seem to find the fucks to care—you just needed more of his dick, like…now.

Pleased with your compliance, Enjin thumbs the dips at the small of your back, perching your ass up so your back arches real nice.

“Trash Daddy’s gonna take real good care of Cumbringer from now on, too. Make ‘er live up to the name.”

When Enjin pushes into you again, the new angle has him bullying against your g-spot with even more intensity than before. Seeing the way you jolt, he holds back from going as deep this time to directly abuse the spot. Slick runs down your legs and despite how slippery the ruined leather cushions are beneath you, Enjin still holds you firm as his cock sloshes through your ruined pussy.

“Say, how much anima you think is in my nut, Princess?”

You don’t respond but Enjin, proving to have the stamina of a beast, feels like he should give you at least two more doses just to be sure.

⛓

Fading in and out of a euphoric stupor, you’re unsure how much time passes. Absolutely cockdrunk, at some point, you’d simply just surrendered. Your pussy clearly has zero complaints about being a jinki for Enjin’s cock and you are too dumb once you get a lil dick to stop him.

Somehow, you’ve ended up folded over the wide coffee table. It’s unstable beneath you, but Enjin doesn’t seem to care what he breaks when he’s fucking you. He only moved from the sofa when the back of it finally broke.

Straining, you think you hear voices but everything feels so far away and fuzzy. The room gets darker and you realize Enjin’s thrown his coat over you. Still sheathed deep inside you, Enjin’s cock plants lazy kisses to your womb as he speaks rather casually to someone.

Hmm, did he get a call? Is that Semiu?

Semiu is likely calling, wondering why you both haven’t shown up to happy hour yet—shit. There’s no way you’re making it in this condition; your limbs are toast. You can’t even move the weight of Enjin's bulky jacket off of you, the heavy material trapping you in the humidity of your own breath and sweat. But in a way, the warmth is comforting. Your cheek resting against the wood, you allow the tent of muggy heat and his cock moving languidly inside you to lull you into complacency— in your delirium, everything feels like a nice dream.

Yet Enjin is fully alert, a shit eating grin on his face as he stares down Semiu and Gris who had just walked in on Enjin shamelessly beating your doonies down. Enjin only spared your modesty by covering you up, but he has no qualms with either Gris or Semiu seeing him in all his glory and doesn’t even bother pulling out of you.

A fact that is painfully clear as he pats the pockets of his jacket draped over you for his cigs—he might as well smoke if he’s giving you a break.

“I win,” Semiu turns to Gris, hand out expectantly.

Semiu’s cool expression never changes but there is amusement in her eyes as Gris fishes into his pockets and places a stack of bills into her hand.

“Tsk, damn…” Gris shakes his head, although he’s not shocked. 

The two of you are down so horrendously bad for each other that this should have happened long ago as far as everyone else was concerned. The tension has been at an unbearable level for those around you, the way the two of you picked at each other non-stop like a kid’s first crush.

Alas, you’re an airhead and Enjin is so stubborn he’s delusional. So the older Cleaner members couldn’t help, but place bets on when and where you and Enjin would finally slip between the sheets. Its a shame that you weren't in one of your beds right now--in between actual sheets--instead of the lounge becoming collateral damage.

“You know, after all the game you talked about winning your money back at poker tonight, Bro said you were a no-show because you knew you were gonna lose…” Gris eyes the boneless, quivering lump that is you under Enjin’s jacket. 

Enjin really did a number on you. Your nonsensical babbles pouting for Enjin to ‘make sure to tell Semiu to bring you back some fries from the bar’ obviously means you have no idea that they are actually in the room.

“But it looks like you have your ‘ace in the hole' for an entirely different game.”

Enjin chortles. His hips stutter forward a bit too hard and you squeak in protest, he just hushes you.

“Awe, so you came back all this way to check-up on us? How sweet,” Enjin says sarcastically, taking a drag from his cigarette.

“Hardly. Rudo accidentally chugged an entire beer he thought was soda—then proceeded to throw it all up over Zanka,” Semiu says flatly. 

Enjin attempts to hold back his laughter as Semiu continues with a sigh. She explains thatGris helped carry Rudo back, promptly putting his little blacked out ass to bed. Zanka locked himself in the bathroom immediately upon returning.

“Although they're sure to be occupied for the rest of the night, since the kids are back in the building you need to wrap this shit up Enjin—she looks like she could use the break anyway.”

Semiu casts a sympathetic look your way. She did warn you about Enjin though, so he was your mess to deal with now. 

“Sure thing,” Enjin says, patting your form underneath his coat, “I’ve trained my new jinki well enough for tonight.” 

Semiu takes one look at the absolutely diabolical grin on Enjin’s face and decides she's already had enough of his shit for the night.

She sighs again. “Just hurry it up, alright?”

Enjin gives Semiu a cheeky salute. Yet the second her back is turned, Enjin mimes a dramatic chef’s kiss to the air for Gris. Enjin’s eyes roll back like he’s just had the best meal of his life. 

Gris snorts, shooting him a wink and a thumbs-up for a ‘job well done’ like a proud teammate before heading out of the room as well.

“One more thing.”

Semiu pauses in the doorway, hands resting on the double doors, surveying the crime scene-like state of the lounge. The sofa is toast, the coffee table’s on life support, and there's a growing puddle under you, spilling over to slowly drip off its edge onto the floor.

“If you’re just going to recklessly rawdog her, at least get her on the pill. Alice can sort that out tomorrow—right after you replace every piece of furniture you’ve both annihilated.”

Enjin simply shrugs, taking another drag of his cigarette.

“I suppose…we can stop by Alice’s too.” 

Semiu just rolls her eyes, only to wrinkle her nose as a wave of stale air wafts by.

“And for the love of god—crack a window. Smells like fresh ass in here.”

Once the doors finally click shut, Enjin rips his jacket off of you and smiles. You’re still blissed out in lalaland while your pussy, Cumbringer, is clenching around him like she has one more go left in her.

Grabbing your arm, he pulls you up. Still sheathed inside you, he sits back on his knees, bringing you with him, your back pressed against his chest.

“Mmmm—*yawns* Was that Semiu on the call, Enj?”

Call? Oh, heh.

“Ha, yeah baby girl, just Semiu on the line,” Enjin lies too easily. 

It’s for your own benefit though–no need to ruin your bliss with anything silly like embarrassment or shame from being walked-in on. Hell, unless Semiu says something, Enjin might be able to get away with not ever telling you.

“She said they ran outta fries though. I’ll get ya some later, yeah? Jus’ need Cumbringer to clock in one more time, Princess...”

Enjin rocks his hips with yours in a slow wave and your pout melts, no longer caring about the fries. Your head tips back onto his shoulder as he wraps his arms around you.

“Ah, mmmm, b-but—ngnh!  She mentioned something about hotdogs and getting pills tomorrow? Is that a mission?”

Enjin hums to keep from laughing as he turns your face towards him. He smirks devilishly against your lips.

Distracting you with sweet chaste kisses, Enjin rubs gentle circles over your womb. You’re gonna be so fucking hot waddling around HQ in your slutty ass uniform, tits leaking and belly full with his brats. 

The only pill he’d get from Alice would be a fertility pill.

“Nothing my slutty baby girl or my Cumbringer gotta worry about, Princess. Leave everything t’me.”

𝐚𝐧: ahh tysm for reading, especially if you are new to my writing. enjin brain rot is lethal. i needed to get this outta my system! jjk girlies forgive me for straying from my wip list and kinktober lol. definitely down to write more of him. i have a p2 and another enjin story (an AU) idea. but i have to focus on my jjk kinktober now! ♡

also, in case anyone is wondering—yes, reader's jinki is a labubu and yes, enjin just guilt tripped reader into growing him his own personal stash djhscjhdfj. banner: mash up of official manga + rororogi mogera 'last mall' doujin panels.

[sharxxybaitxdd]

i’m sorry but i hate this new wave of “autistic people are basically not disabled and are all just self diagnosed white people who want to have problems as opposed to us REAL DISABLED people”. like people will act shocked when i- a low support needs autistic person, am actually disabled by my disability.

also the whole “autism and adhd people face literally no oppression at all as opposed to us actual neurodivergent people” let’s stop with the oppression olympics please. i promise you, we may be oppressed in different ways, some may be worse than others, but none of us have it ‘good’

[tonycries]

Heat Waves - C.K.

Synopsis. The two things they don’t tell you about a hot emo half-curse? 1. He’s in heat. 2 He needs you badly.

Pairing. Choso Kamo x Reader

Content. MDNI, fem!reader, slight omégaverse, HEATS, roommates-to-Iovers, he goes FÉRAL, matíng presses, size kínk, knots, he’s huge, squírting, dúmbifícation, Choso with piercings n’ tattoos, pheromones, use of jujutsu, MARATHONS, creampíes, cúmplay, matíng marks, stopping you from running, proposals, pet names, swéaring.

Word count. 7.6k

A/N. She’s BACK and she wrote this during a power cut ummm?

“Choso, are you in there?”

You’re nervously gnawing on the inside of your cheek, feet shuffling as you wait outside of your strange new roommate’s bedroom.

Summer. 

And the scorched air outside wasn’t the only thing that was sizzling, it felt like your skin was pricked with countless goosebumps at the temperature inside of your cozy lil’ apartment. Each heady wave of heat originating from his room.

Half-wondering whether you should call his pink-haired little brother for assistance, your fingers rap once more on the firmly shut mahogany door. Calling out, “I’m coming in, okay?”

There’s a noise from inside- a gasp. 

And then something that sounded like a low, guttural…moan at the very sound of your voice. The humidity only rising. Brows furrowing, warmth creeping, you just barely start turning that doorknob open—“Choso, what is-”

Oh. 

.

.

.

Seventy-four days.

Seventy-four days since Choso had started rooming with you, thanks to your associates higher up at Jujutsu High. And seventy four days since he’d wanted to tear off your tiny sleep shorts and wrench your pretty legs apart to stuff you all full of his-

Fuck. 

And just like that, he’d been hit with his annual heat cycle on the hottest day of the month. 

All part of being half a curse, he grouches. 

Maybe it was the paper-thin t-shirt you’d been wearing this morning, maybe it was just how you’d batted your lashes as you greeted him in the hallway.

Maybe it was the way all he had to do was fucking stand next to you to smell how sweet that pussy of yours was, throbbing away between your thighs. Thump! Thump! Thump! 

But here he was- one step inside of his sweltering bedroom, only a single inch that you’re toeing past the door frame, and he’s bolted out of the bed to slam against you. Heaving chest to chest, back to wall. 

Mouth crashing-

You don’t know what burns more - the push of his toned, rippling flesh radiating pure heat, crushing against you, or his lips. Choso grabs you, Adam’s apple bobbing dryly as he damn near sobs at the contact of your spit-glossed lips.

“Ch-Choooso–!” You’re squealing, kissing back in earnest. Your rationality only a faint inkling now, “What’s gotten- hah! into y- fuck!” 

Before you know it, he’s fisted his shaking, prolonged fingers into your shirt to rip the fabric down the middle-

Gasping, your knees knock together weakly once he sticks a clammy palm to the valley between your tits and tears up. Your wetly ajar maw breaking away from his own with a sultry dampened noise, followed almost instantly by a strained whine as Choso registers the feeling of his attack on your mouth dwindling. 

Just about the only thing he could be struck with right now. 

CRASH!

One of his big, beefy forearms slams on the patch of wall above you, flecks of plaster snowing down at his sheer inhuman strength. “Stay…” And his other arm greedily claws at your throat, jolting at the sound of your oh-so-cute gasp as if your voice made something deep n’ dark down inside him twitch. “-away.”

And you might not have known him the longest, but Choso Kamo never sounded so rough. So…gone.

Rugged and husky. 

He’s peering down at you through his towering height with semi-widened hazel eyes like he couldn’t dare look away and oh-

Oh, Choso looked ruined.

You’re gazing up at him for the first time now - really, really gazing up at him - in all his desperate, clammy glory. Heat sticking to him like a second skin. Mouth parted. Throat parched. 

His expression was almost dazed, still drinking in the sight of you as if he was just seeing a phantom walk into his bedroom. 

Choso’s skin was simmering with a blush that made him look feverish, the cracks between his bangs the only thing revealing his dark, half-lidded stare. He’d hounded you like a predator closing in on his prey. 

Ready to pounce. 

And you gulp, squirming at the scraping itch of his pointed nails. The pads of his fingers plant pressure on your airway as if he didn’t want you to even speak, couldn’t handle it. “Wanna stay, Cho–”

Ah, that did it.

Choso had been shivering- shuddering viscerally as he loomed above you, fawny lashes fluttering like he was holding himself painfully back. Away - only to snap the very second his nickname stumbles out of your beautiful, beautiful mouth so that he has to shut you up before you cause any more damage to his sanity.

Whimpering, the bite of his extra-honed canines makes your lips sting. “Oh- ngh, slow down-” 

“Can’t.”

His voice cracks. 

“F-fuck…” Just the sound of his lilted, crazed bass is enough for your thighs to clamp yearningly together. Chasing just the slightest friction, he sounded so sensual that it made your pussy so-

“Oh.”

This time, it’s Choso who’s breaking off the lurid kiss with a sticky mwah! The syrup of your saliva gluing to his rosy, puckered lips when he lurches his head downwards and sniffs. 

Right between your legs. 

It’s as if he could sense something you couldn’t, jaw slowly unhinging further open the wetter you became. Until your inner thighs were sheened with a splotchy puddle of your slick and Choso was drooling. 

“Oh.” He’s repeating, like a broken record. It’s just then at the air grows murky, as if your roommate had suddenly emptied out your most favorite syrupy bodyspray then and there. Body twitching, “Oh.”

And before you could blink away the haze in your eyes and say something about the glittery sprinkle of spittle travelling down the side of his mouth, Choso’s powerful knees hit the floor with a booming bang! 

If he could feel any pain then he doesn’t show it, can’t even manage to twist his expression into anything but a look of utter fucking hunger. Rabid at the mouth.

“O-oh my god are you…” You had half the mind to push his face back and ask whether he was okay- but the harrowed look in Choso’s peripheries stopped you. He needed this. And he needed this now. 

He looked just as surprised as you, almost as if he was in disbelief at the way his trembling fingers were digging into your flimsy skirt. The battle-worn calluses of his fingertips slicing through the cute satin cloth like it was butter, Choso barely even hesitates a second to breathe before he’s stuffing his face into your sopping, clothed pussy.

Nose-deep, and Choso cups the cheeks of your ass to push himself even deeper. 

Lips meeting puffy, achin’ lips. 

“H-nghhh—” Dribbles from your mouth stain your lips all dewy wet, and you can’t do anything but sift your fingers through Choso’s auburn locks and pull- 

“Don’t.”

You watch in awe when he’s surging forwards to crush the tip-top of his straight nosebridge into the slope of your pussy. Rubbing lightly against that cute lil’ bow decorating the hemline of your panties, “But you can’t even breathe like that-”

“Don’t.” Comes out his growling warning again. Before Choso’s taking a final deep inhale of your saccharine sweetness- fuck, your tight cunt just smelled so sweet that he can feel his cock jolting already. Gulping back a bucketload of ravenous spit, “Don’t.” He doesn’t have to breathe. 

Tone hitched. Tastebuds parched. It’s the last thing that he’s muttering—“Starved…”

Before Choso crushes the underside of his tongue past your sodden panties and tastes you- just a singular drop of your syrupy sweet slick, a singular ounce, and you think you may have broken him.

Because his broad back stills, dark eyes widening. And you’re just about to wrench your mouth open in question before he’s back flopping his tongue past your underwear.

Caressing your swollen pussylips with his pointed tip in a French kiss, Choso swats your stupid lil’ panties aside - why did you even need those - to drink you in. To sluuuurp up every given droplet of your dewy wet juices like he was a man starved. 

And his eyes were still widened, damn near bulging out of his poor sockets once he’s tilting his head sexily to the side n’ flicking your sloppy entrance. 

Grunting at the slight friction of your cotton panties, “Puh-pussy.” His husky utterance makes your thighs clench- something that Choso can not fucking bear because he’s pushing himself even deeper. Further. “Pussy.”

“Sh-shit–” You’d have easily collapsed onto his bedroom floor if it wasn’t for the way that one of his roughened palms was cupping your ass to hold you up. Supporting your weight like a feather. “Choso my…my panties.”

And it was true- oh, he didn’t give a fuck about those. 

Letting them skid over his jaw, Choso’s just barely blinking his glassy eyes down at the now-transparent piece of cloth covering your pussymound like he’d just realized that was still there. 

Sounding out your cute shriek, “P-panties…” Even if he wanted to, it was such torture to even think about pulling away. Still lugging his tastebuds down the glittering crevice of your slit, one of his indexes creeps forward to tease the elastic of your underwear and let it spring back with a resounding snap!

“Hey- rude-”

Barely even letting the syllables escape your mouth, Choso’s lips curl into a feral smirk whilst he nibbles down on the edge of your panties and rip-rip-riiiiips!

All with his canines.

He’s undressing you like he was unwrapping his next meal - on his knees, eyes boring up at you and- shit. Shit shit shit- it’s just then that you’re hit with the thought that you might not even make it out of this alive. 

Because within a singular bat of your lashes, Choso’s bolting up with your pliable body in tow, pushing you onto the nearby bed, throwing your legs wiiide open.

So fast you wonder whether he’d lost control of his powers and somehow teleported - you wouldn’t be surprised. 

Yelping, “Oh- what- oh my nghh- Choso!”

“Your p-pussy.” He’s keening out, dark brows scrunching with aching need whilst you’re barely done bouncing on the bed before he’s smearing your pussylips apart and taking a gooood long look at you. 

Hypnotic, the plump ends of his lips hover oh-so-close near your slippery slit. And you wonder whether he’s trying to drive you mad by trawling that horizontal shape of his nose tattoo across the top of your cunt. Panting, “My baby’s pussy.”

The fringe of Choso’s rovering tongue is so fat, stuffed thickly between your folds so that it felt like your hole was being stretched to the maximum. A low whimper breaks at the back of his throat when he’s feeling the resistance, snarling—“Inside. Need- inside.”

“B-but—” And that primal shrill of yours turns into a sob once Choso’s only keepin’ your thighs pushed further apart. The mountains of his palm bruising five straight lines of his fingers as he gropes on.

“No- no.” Striking the curve of his chin against your pussy, when Choso was in heat - he was thirsty. Nipping your outer cunt with the edges of his fangs, “Let me. Let me let me let me- oh.”

Push after push, his half-closed eyes are so blurry with lust that your cursed roommate is acting on pure, animalistic instinct. Gnawing on the left of your bloated labia like a gum before he draaaags it backwards and plunges his tongue in deeper.

Choso takes one look at the way your glistening hole was all wet n’ clamping down over nothing before he can’t help but hold your folds open whilst he fills you up stupid. “Wet…so…”

He can’t even finish his sentences - his thoughts, just that drunk on your treacly pussy.

Wailing, “Slow down, Cho–!” You’re nearly choking on the heady wave of pheromones that gust from down below just at that simple nickname. Tugging on his clammy bangs, “Y-you’re gonna–”

“Don’t care.” He’s groaning out a throaty answer, each syllable punctured with a lick of his textured tongue past your entrance like he didn’t even realize he was talking. “Don’t care. Don’t need to- breathe. Just need…”

And the next thing you hear is the wettest, rawest squeeeelch! emanating into the tense air once Choso snakes his right hand upwards to pluck a ringed finger between your lips. 

He hisses, fighting with himself for possessive reign over whose lapping up more of your sleek juices. Cheeks hollowed, he’s latching onto your clit and playfully biting as the slimy crown of his digit rovers inside. 

And the stretch- oh, the fucking stretch had your pupils whirling dizzily inside the whites of your eyes. 

“Sh-shit- w-were your hands always this ngh- big?”

Because, really, Choso’s hunched-over back only seemed to flex bigger the more he’s tasting you. His fingers longer, pearly whites sharper. Eyes gleaming–

“Big?” Choso breathes from below you, long lashes shuttering as his eyes widen. Oh, he was just realizing- and that tone did not bode well for your poor, impaling pussy. 

“B-big.” Because he shifts, he jerks his head just the slightest inch to register his sudden strength n’ size. Before grinning—“Then take-” Slurring, your roommate tugs your puffed-up folds just barely enough to the side so that he could slip in the knobbly ends of a second finger. “-take it, my baby.”

It’s like you were made to take it. 

Your elastic hole snagging on the ridges of his slender fingers, you throw your head back and moan at the sudden impact of Choso pursing his pretty pink lips and spitting on your pussy. 

“Y-you know what else the head of the Choso clan can control?” 

Just about the longest sentence his heat-filled mind has managed so far, he’s snagging the caps of his nail polish-chipped fingertips into the side of your walls and spreeading your cunt apart to let his pearly glob of saliva slither inside. 

Immediately making you feel hypnotized, making you feel as if you were sweltering.

Oh, shit. 

The realization makes your head lift off of your dampened pillows- he controls blood and…

He has the audacity to grin when the slimy ribbon of his saliva stirs in circles ‘round and ‘round your snug channel. Controlled. Filthy. 

Watching your every minute squirm with bated breath, Choso nestles that droplet against your tenderest weeping orifices. Shocked. Ready. Like a wolf stumbling upon resh blood he’s breathing—“There”

Something in him twitches. 

Something in him awakens, hips grinding against the bed. 

And then you’re watching Choso’s nosebridge tattoo deepen, you’re watching him lazily flicker his pinkish tongue over the perked nub of your clit while his fingers were ravaging you from the inside out. He wanted to ruin you. 

He was whacking his cold metallic rings against the gummy insides of your cunt and hoping that it bruised. Carving a cute lil’ ‘C’ right at the edge of your g-spot where you needed him the most, his high cheekbones flush. “Can control this. You. Her.”

Quirking the wide end of his index against your sweetest spot, Choso stuffs a third finger and lets all three rounded curves treat your g-spot like a bullseye. Probin’ so deep with their frigid designs into your every nook and cranny, Choso elbows your thighs open once the pressure makes you thrash.

You’re bucking off of the silken sheets, your slick-plastered thighs smushing each side of his handsome cheeks. “There- o-ohhh my god k-keep going-”

“Th-there.” Choso’s smiling. Something feral. “There- there- there.” Hit after hit, he’s sticking his maw against your slit and makin’ out with your sappy lips with a dopey smile. Unfocused. Throat relaxing to let the miry wads of your sweet, sweet sap flood his tastebuds.

They’re damn near sizzling as they stick to your puckering hole as if made of adhesive, slashes of his refined tongue making your cunt sing almost as much as your voice box was. “F-fuck, m’not gonna last, Cho—”

He’d noticed - that sixth, sensual sense of his cursed energy that was making him scour your walls with his curvaceous digits. That primal sense in him.

And that’s all he needed to hear.

The ringed bands of his rings spanking your g-spot like he was maddened, lips wrapped so hard as he sucks on your throbbing clit that they’re starting to ache. 

More.

More more more- he needed fucking more of you before you’re cumming all over his face. And ah- how much more would you drench his snogging mouth when you reach your high?

Choso unfastens his jaw all wiiide and lets your slobbering drags push against his chin. Pushed so nose-deep between your twitching thighs that you can barely even understand him. “Cum.”

“Please—” You’re whimpering out shrilly, fucking music in his ears that makes him spread his meaty thighs apart and push his aching erection into the mattress. “Cho— I’m gonna mmm- m’gonna-”

You don’t get to finish your sentence before Choso’s finishing you off. 

With a few more vulgar, sloppy strokes that set your teeth on edge. Your roommate doesn’t care for any method, he doesn’t care for any technique because he’s lavishing his velvety mouth everywhere. 

From your pulsating clit, to the gasping circle of your entrance, to right past where three of his lengthy fingers were already filling you up because Choso just couldn’t get enough. And he’s laying his craned neck out across one of your trembling thighs, mouth burning with the cloying taste of you while you cum and cum harder than any of your toys have ever made you. 

“I-it feels so…” Words fail you, and your hands stay firmly wrapped through the valleys of his sweaty scalp for dear life. “-so- nghhh- can’t even d-do anything.”

It was devastating- your vision splotchy with white, toes curling. And the half-curse was so plowed between your pert pussylips that he couldn’t even rear himself back to moan. 

Letting out each moistened ‘fuck’ and ‘oh’ into your gushing pussy. 

Blinded, it’s the only thing he can do to let your rose-shaped insides clench around his dexterous muscle. A sweet lil’ ba-dump–! that matched in carnal synchronization with the beat of your rapid heart, and Choso’s counting about twelve before he finally feels your high bating. 

“No.” He grunts out instantly, eyes widening. Panicked. With a grope to the left side of your waist, Choso latches on a death grip and immediately pulls your restless hips back onto his mouth. Lips wobbling, “No no no no- come back.”

Yelping, “Shit m’so- hck! sensitive, Choso.” Even the slightest pinch of his coral pink lips right over your clit left you seeing stars. 

But he didn’t listen.

He didn’t care.

He’s pushin’ his tongue back between your wet slit with a growl and eyeing how it makes you shudder. “Can’t-” Laughing - laughing - Choso alternates between bumping his rounded index against your g-spot and stretching out his rubbery tongue to lap at your walls. 

Smack after smack every time he flaps his lips, all dangling with gleaming streaks of your hot orgasm. He’s trying to get you to cum once more, but he’s too impatient. 

Too needy for it that all he can do is slash his tongue across your sweetest spots and watch as it only edges you until you’re all dizzy. Sniffing your pussy like you’re his favorite scent, “Can’t fucking stop.”

“Want- ngh! want you—” You’re keening, pushing on the perspiration-sprayed surface of his forehead to no avail. Choso only manhandles your body to glue his lips to yours even further, “Want your cock.”

“H-huh?”

For the first time, your roommate lifts his head from the sinful heaven between your legs with a loud plop! It’s the most lecherous noise, and the only thing wetter than that sound was how wet Choso was.

He’s dripping with syrupy slick from the apples of his high cheekbones down to his sharp jaw, beaded drops of slick hitting your thighs with a pitter-patter. He was flushed. Pheromones burning. Slightly shivering. 

And it looked like the very second you opened your mouth - not even from the sound of your voice, just the mere notion of it - Choso’s nose scrunches and he flinches. “Wan’ your cock…”

“O-oh.”

Oh.

Oh.

You were done for. 

You were absolutely and completely done for- because no sooner are the words out of your mouth that your snug pussy walls are left empty n’ hollow. Void of when he’s dragging his fingers back, making sure to leave a rovering little caress as he pulls out with a soppy slurp!

And then he’s slouching over you, he’s bending you. 

Fully clothed and yet it’s like his heat-melted mind doesn’t even register that, Choso’s holdin’ your dangling ankles spread open while he grinds his swollen, aching cock against your core and groans. 

“Fuck- fuck-” 

He was so fucking hard, and your pussy had felt so damn tight around his tongue. 

Just once. Twice- Choso ruts between your legs like an animal before he’s fumbling for the silvery latch of his belt. Unfreezing, you’re finally helping his dazed fingers through it- whining as you tug on his off-white undershirt, “Take it- off.”

Moaning- he thinks he’s going to die if he doesn’t listen to every word you say. “Please.”

It’s like each sound of your needy voice only makes his weight cock sag further, so it’s such a relief when he’s shoving the rest of his trousers down and letting his red, bulbous tip swab his abs with a stripe of glittering pre. 

You only get a flash of Choso’s cock - rock-fucking-hard, engorged, looking so painful as his lengthy shaft hangs between his pale legs. The mushroomed tip of his cock was burnin’ red and weeping, and- was that- a shiny silver piercing right next to his orifice?

 Like a pretty pink lollipop that you wanted to reach out and-

“Later.”

And then he’s pushing in. 

Then he’s letting his ballooned-up shaft twitch primally at the noise of your sweet, sweet voice, before spreading his meaty thighs and pushing between your tight, glistening cunt. 

“I know-” He’s rasping out, two of his veiny forearms planting underneath your legs to lift them bonelessly onto his shoulders. Ankles hitting his back muscles, “I know I know I know- fuck!”

Nearly screaming at the way your cozy hole was just too small for his pierced tip, resisting the way Choso fits the very reddened point of his cock between your folds and pushes and pushes. Ruts. “O-oh my goddd- nghhh- s’sooo biggg–!”

But your adorable huffing and puffing was only making every ounce of blood pound to his aching cock and make it even bigger. 

Tightly pushing against the rubbery outer edge of your pussy, your pussylips get smeared apart sooo fucking widely by his rigid circumference. 

And no matter how much you’re thrashing and mewling, Choso only tugs apart your cunt with a thumbing of his ringed digit. Deeper, fitting just an inch. 

He gasps- he whines. Just so desperate, and you’re hypnotized by both that ecstatic look on his face to the sweetened, humid atmosphere. 

“Cho! O-oh my god s’not gonna mmm- fit-”

“No.” Choso repeats it like a mantra, and he’s begging with those hooded chestnut eyes of his. Probing your gaze with his dilated pupils, heels digging into your rickety mattress, the head of his swollen shaft squeezed where he was bullying inside. “No no no no- hafta take it. You need to, my baby.”

Long lashes shuttering, you swear you see Choso’s eyeliner run with tears when he makes your pussy gulp down a single solid few inches. 

His cock so fucking big that just this slightest swallowed measurement made you feel a round bruise at your throat, your mouth overflooding with heated saliva. “Need to take it inside just-”

Babbling, Choso glues his clammy palms upon either side of your birthing hips and bends you in half. 

All the way until the globes of your ass nearly weren’t touching the bed, all the way until he’s pressuring you with the weight of his muscular body and holding you still whilst you take him in deeper. 

In a mating press.

And give him an inch, he’ll take a mile. 

“Fuh-fuuuuck!” Because Choso was thrusting, not even waiting - he couldn’t. Your gooey pussy was just so soft and warm around his barreling girth that it was driving him wild. “You’re just soooo—”

“Inside. Inside.”

“What if I can’t fit-”

“I’ll make it fit.”

He’s holding onto your mounds of flesh like it would stop him from losing control, thighs shivering at his inner quads once he’s punishing your squelching cunt with half-ruts. Bucks. Humps like an animal all just to fit and fit his swollen, red cock inside. 

Eyes dazed, mouth slack. 

Choso’s already drilling into you, whacking your bubblegum insides with everything he could fit. 

From the geysering divot homed on the middle of his tip to just where one of his prominent veins was tickling your outer folds. His Prince Albert’s was so cold where he’s slimy mazing along your textured walls, “Tight-” He dares to let one of his hands caress your tummy, pushing down to feel himself. “Fucking tight.”

Struggling, and so when Choso’s finally tugging further on your dewy slick cunt to sheath in more more more- all he can do is stutter his breath to a labored hold and cum. Just by bottoming out.

Your eyes widen, “Did you just-”

“I-inside.” Choso croaks out, strained. Raw groans hatching, he presses down on your body with his toned upper strength and keeps you there as he’s pumping you full. 

It’s so much of his thick, ribbony white sap splashing ‘round that you’re wondering whether your puffy hole was flooding already. 

Not that Choso would ever let you- no, his familiar ringed thumb spanks down on your slit and makes sure that not even one ivory drop leaks out. 

Driving and driving every vein-covered inch in half-thrusts that leave your knees weak, “Inside.” He’s panting like he was feverish, brown irises murky. So hot inside of you with all his syrup, he’d just bottomed out and he was still planting his feet flat on the bedsprings to maze his glistening cock further. 

Octaves higher, cracked. He’s in disbelief when he’s sliding his globular piercing in a straight line down your cervix, “Inside.”

“Mhmmm– all inside, Choso.” You’re managing to strangle out, your twitchy fingertips reaching up to push away a few strands of his soft bangs from his sweaty forehead. “All better now?”

You’ve no idea what had gotten into him today, but anything to help your hot half-curse roommate-

“All better?”

It’s posed as a question, but Choso wasn’t looking for an answer.

He’s poring down at you with bulging eyeballs, gaze smudged with eyeliner. “All…better?” Before letting out a sudden, strained bark of laughter. 

And before you know it, Choso’s curling the tips of his fingers around your throat and grabbing you to halt in your journey to squirm away. Squealing, you let yourself be dragged down to hit his hard pelvis with a spank.

Leaning down, down, down every inch that he’s closing in the scorching distance between you two made your cum-glazed pussy let off a talkative slurp! “All better.” 

“Wh- oh!”

He doesn’t let you speak.

He doesn’t even let you breathe before ramming into you with all the vein-patterned, roaming length of his girth. “All better?” Choso echoes breathlessly, “You- think- I’m all better?”

As you whine, the headlock of his palm tugs your lolling scalp forwards to stare back up at him. Holding the deepest, most lecherous eye contact with you as he sliiiides his zig-zagging veins against the roof of your pussy. 

Spit flying, Choso crashes his maw into your open mouth. “Do I look fucking better?”

Oh.

That’s when it finally hits you- that short, hastened paragraph you’d skimmed over in your book on cursed - Choso was in heat.

“P-please!” It was almost comical the way he had you mewling all stupidly on his cock, your heart-eyed pupils swirlin’ inside of your eyes with each poke into the bottom of your pussy. His stout, frigidly pierced tip furiously thumping away, “Feels so good, Cho- can feel you all the way ngh- here.”

And he was not letting you go. 

Choso looked like he was losing his sanity when you’re mindlessly tracing a hand up the valley of your tits, touching your throat. 

“Th-there, huh?” He questions, dryly. With a final swab of his bulging length where you were most sensitive, he’s suckin’ on your quivering lower lip with a hum. “You know I ngh- respect you, right, my baby? Riiight–?”

Confused, you’re nodding—“Yes?”

“Good.”

Because Choso wasn’t going to fuck you like it.

He’s departing his hoarse breath in gusts, letting out a barely-audible little–”Flowing Red Scale: Stack.”

The jujutsu technique to increase speed. Endurance. 

Before the air around the two of you tightens with electricity, with every atom around the two of you coating with a layer of cursed energy. Something so rabid and desperate that seeps through Choso’s body like he almost wasn’t in control, coating the ends of his upright erection when he’s bucking. 

“There-” The rounded circle of his piercing is plowing you open like a searchlight, mazing your velvety walls in a lil’ zig-zag. The underside of his shaft sticks to you like a second skin, striking your g-spot dead on. “-there.”

Rovering his hand right on top of the sultry rounded bulge he was pounding away into you, “M’here.”

He was there right inside of you and he was everywhere. 

Weighing in on the splotch of your nerved walls, pushing away the creamy white layer of seed on top of your lips so that he could see himself being sucked in even deeper. “Me me me me-”

“O-oh please!” You scream out in time with the creaking racket of your aged bedcoils, it was making the most protesting noises as he bucks his hips deeper. Hands clawing across his deltoids—his chilling piercing whacks your g-spot and you can only reach for the wooden headboard with a babble. 

“No- no no come back-” Choso’s free hand creeps from your cute tummy bulge to claw at your scalp, pushing you down. Pulling you all the way down, “No running.”

No running.

Again and again and again.

Choso’s got a hold on your head, a knee trapping your thigh. Pinning you down so that he can smack his tensed core down on your front and leave your heated flesh stinging. 

“No running no running no- hah! You’re gonna be mine, my baby–” Angrily, he swats your partly-opened lips with a great dollop of spit, feeling the sultry trickle swirl it’s way circlin’ your mouth. 

The entrapping hand on your head tightens like a vice and you squeak something unintelligible, something that makes his pinkish cockhead swerve and his body heave with a great, visceral shudder. 

“What was- hah- what was that, my baby?”

“Ch-Choso–!” Comes out your shrilling calls, “More.”

And he almost stops. He almost freezes—“What?”

“More!”

“M-more?” Choso can only repeat through a harrowed gasp, letting his heavy, hard cock slide niiiice and easy between your legs. Echoing, “More.” And it’s like he’s agonizingly fucking you slow n’ steady- hard and rough. 

Alternating, it’s hard to keep himself in check.

Hard to even force himself into a constant sloppy cadence when you’re looking up at him like that.

Begging for him, your mouth unfastens open at the way Choso’s pretty hazel eyes only seem to glow…animalistically. A cursed, powerful tinge taking over his gaze, claws sharpening, body bulging with even more sexy muscles as if that was possible. 

He was almost transforming in front of your very eyes and the only thing you can do is throw your oversaturated head back and take it. 

“More.”

Choso whacks his bulbous, cold Prince Albert’s against the side of your g-spot and hopes that pretty area of your cunt remembers it. Bruising you. 

Your thighs on his shoulders, his dick shoveling into tender orifices inside of you that no one’s ever reached before. Your cute roommate’s damn near laughing himself hoarse whilst moaning away that singular syllable you’d uttered out. “More- more. What the fuck- more.”

“Fuck—” Your doughy heels dig in eagerly where his back muscles were rippling, lungs filling with all his heated scent. “M’gettin’ so ngh- sensitive, Cho.”

But it’s not like he could hear you.

Choso Kamo knew your lips were moving, but he was too deeply-stuffed inside your dripping wet cunt to even pretend to listen. All he could think as he shuffles all his fat, roaming inches inside, creaming out a generous helping of buttery pre, was that he wanted to make your gorgeous mouth fall into an oh! of pleasure.

Fuck, talking- he’s fucking you like he’s trying to make sure that you couldn’t.

Merciless thrust after thrust, the power clinging onto the air around you two was becoming stifling.

“More” Choso utters, two of his ringed fingers skimming your bulged folds open and kissin’ your clit with a sweet hello. “More.” Before pinching, harder. Sloppier. His bulbously swollen red erection stirs your insides like he’s trying to melt his body onto yours, “Tight lil’ hole can’t g-get enough of me- she wants more-”

Oh.

Oh–

You weren’t the only one caught off guard by just how ragged Choso was becoming - just how ragged his ruthless hips were becoming. Because with only one, two, three precise glides of his rotund cockhead stirrin’ your g-spot, your poor pussy is bullied into a second orgasm. 

You see white. 

Surprised. Hitting you like four semi-trucks, all you can do is gnaw your lolling maw down on the tempting curve of his shoulder and cum.

“O-oh, my baby.” Choso whispers out from above, gasping once he’s registering your high. Your bite- marking him up in a way that makes his cursed heat flare. 

Cumming.

Cumming and cumming so hard that your roommate’s feeling his heavy breeder balls drain with each sploshing wire of sap being pumped into you. 

You hear him grunt over n’ over through your popped eardrums, “My baby-” Thwack! Thwack! Thwack! goes the slap of his cum-glazed balls digging into the backs of your ass. And you swear you feel his frigid piercing draw out a loooong ‘C’ on your sponged cervix, “My baby my baby my baby- alll…”

Dazed, you’re watching when his ringed hand lets go of your head to caress your tummy bulge. Now only inflated further with his knotted wads of cum, “-here.”

Oh…

He didn’t just mean that you were his baby- he meant that he was going to fuck a baby into you.

And that’s exactly how he’s milking you through your high, letting the sparks of your bliss overtake you as his driveling cock fucks away lazily. Sensually rubbin’ the curve of his piercing over your g-spot to overstimulate you. 

“Never f-felt this good, Cho–!” Your criss-crossed eyes scrunch with a few warm tears, feeling the gooey puddle of white stagnant below you.

He reels his plump girth back just the slightest smidge and watches as a torrent of sap splashes out wetly. 

Choso only grins, “S’my first time-” Planting a lingering smooch over your gaped lips. “My first kiss. My first…”

And absolutely nothing - nothing - could’ve prepared you for the word that attaches to the tail-end of his groaned sentence. 

“-mate.”

His only mate. His one and only. 

And he was groping the underside of your ass cheeks to make sure that his loving mate wasn’t squirming away. Getting a good handhold for your pretty, pliant body to be held up and dragged backwards. 

Choso wasn’t in the right headspace to even pretend he was pushin’ you into a cute mating pressing right now.

Only melting the ridges of each chiseled ab into your front, glissading easily with the sheen of his perspiration.

Choso creeps his bruised, red lips right up to your ear. 

“And m’not letting you walk out of this hah- bed not pregnant.” As if struck by the sudden thought, he rolls his sloppy cock between your saturated pussylips once more and grunts. Dark eyes sliiiding backwards, brows scrunching with need. “A-actually- m’not letting you walk at all.”

Gasping, “Not walking- th-that means…”

It’s all you can get out before the cursed energy sticking to your bodies heightens twofold. 

And Choso gets harder. Choso’s pushing you down.

Choso cups your spilling pussy to smear apart your bloated folds, slimily weaving his rounded mushroom tip to circle back to your entrance and push—

“More.” 

Your tongue feels sticky with all the pheromones of his saccharine heat, “M-more?” 

“Gonna fuck you more.” Seemingly able to utter more than just three words now, “Fill you up more.” Shaking - both his voice and his thighs pushing you into missionary now.  “Get- get you pregnant more.”

Blood manipulation to make his prolonged, split-ended shaft harder. Reverse cursed technique to make sure you two don't break bones. 

But neither of you can stop the way his creaking bed frame shatters.

And Choso doesn’t care- his knee hikes further to keep your legs open. Fist pumping the fattened excess of his ravaged cock furiously to pump n’ pump himself to a merciless hardness. He’s hissing as his cursed energy forces every ounce of blood in his sparking mind to rush to his plummy, weeping crown. 

“I-is this even safe, Cho–?” You’re whining, trying to nudge yourself to some sort of rationality before Choso completely ruined you all over again. 

“Safe? Safe?” He’s giggling out, hissing between your parted lips. “Who knows…?”

The last thing you’re managing to hear before his slender hips snap forwards and meet your pussylips with a tender few strings of even more cum. Pouring out a thick paste that damn near covers the slope of your cunt an opaque ivory, “I don’t know- I have no idea- a-all m’gonna do s’fuck you–”

Just at that moment your pussy lets out a sappy few squelches as he shovels inside and Choso’s nodding.

“Y-yeeees, my baby.” Slobber trickles down either side of his lips and marks him all glittering, the round orb of his piercing cleaning off your pussy of seed. “All pregnant. A-all mine. All pregnant.”

Choso’s still so damn big- growing even bigger thanks to his jujutsu that every rummaging inch makes him slick your skin with cum. Creaming you. Milking himself. 

Bulging cock so layered with jujutsu that it almost zaps the inside of your silky smooth cunt like a vibrator to have him pummeling you deeply.

The more he’s pounding away like he’s crazed, the more and more he does become crazed. Rasping tone breathless, gone. “Yes- yes yes yes tha’s right-” He’s sounding out, trekking a hand down to thumb over your jiggling cum-inflated tummy bulge. “Pregnant. Pregnant pregnant- pregnant–”

“S-slow down Cho, or m’gonna—ngh! again.” You wail, hips bucking up shallowly - just about all you can manage right now, but the mere idea has Choso breathing all labored. 

Hands twisting on the lecherous nub of your clit, “Yeah- yeahhh, mama’s gotta cum.” He’s reciting off- it wasn’t just the heat, it was some second primal nature that made him want to make that drenched pussy of yours squeeze his cock to death.

And fuck, was that instinct strong. 

Because Choso’s hitting your deep cunt with gushing whacks, angling his pelvis just right to curl the left-leaning spheroid of his cockhead against your g-spot and-

“Cum- cum. Cum.”

When you do, it’s in carnal unison with him. For the nth time this night.

So hard that the two of you can only throw your heads back and moan—

Long, stringy ribbons of sap entering your filthy hole right in time with each peak of your high. You count one, two, three- four. 

“Cum—ing.” Your voice cracks, eyes rolling. Nails clawing fresh crimson marks down his pale shoulder blades, ones that the man himself smells and drools at. Yeah- all he wanted in his heated haze was for you to ruin him. “Choso- oh.” 

“S’my name- what’s this say?”

You yelp, feeling him guide his pierced cocktip to swab your most tender orifices. Grunting- “Tell me. Spell.”

That fucking animal inside of his cursed body was makin’ him tease your bruised and battered cervix with an outlined ‘C’, then an ‘H’, and then an ‘O’-‘S’ -‘O’.

C-H-O-S-O

C-H-O-S-O

C-H-O-S-O

You think you might be cumming again, you think you might be grinding your hips back down without even thinking to help him spell out his name. “Choso- Choso! Cho—!” Mindlessly whining and whining that very word whilst your orgasm hits you like a freight train. 

And Choso knew it was coming- oh, he saw. 

The lecherous part of his cursed technique growing in tune with your body enough that he’s sensing the waves of your impending bliss, and gifing your pussy with a rigid thrash against your g-spot that leaves you squirting. 

All over his dick.

“I’m— did I-” 

“You did.” He’s breathing, rough. Gone. “You did.”

Dampened, streaming gushes of sap coat Choso’s shaft, and it’s a damn miracle that he’s able to stop himself from pulling out right now just to taste the wetness of your dewy soft walls as you ride him through your high. His own orgasm nothing more than numerous dry spurts of white liquid when he’s fucking you even sloppier. 

Still fucking you when he’s muttering the incantation underneath his breath for his blood manipulation technique sugring down to his fattening girth. Overstimulated. Overworked. 

Gasping, something wet hits your shoulder and it takes you every shred of will in your body to wrench your teary lashes open and look. Only to realize that Choso Kamo was crying.

Whimpering, sucking himself dry on you. 

You didn’t know who was more drunken as he’s lazily dragging his veiny cock along your channel in a third- fourth? round. “I finally have- have you in my ngh- bed and-” Toying the flared edge of his mushroom tip right where your g-spot was, back n’ forth, back n’ forth. He makes you squeeze down on the rounded swelling at his hilt, “-you think m’letting you go that easy?”

Teeth on edge, bangs sweat-stuck, eyeliner running.

Heavy balls tightening.

Before you can even register it, Choso has you face-planted into the pillows - his hand at the base of your arched spine, cock taking you from behind, foot firmly seated on top of your head. 

And he’s collapsing his body down onto yours and pushing, pushing, pushing. 

So hard that you think you hear a faint pop!

“N-no breaking bones…” Comes out his throaty tut, followed by the cool breeze of even more reverse cursed energy bleeding into your bones. The expanse of his heated skin buzzing with electricity, he almost made you bolt to the touch.

And suddenly this mean position on all fours doesn’t feel so bad anymore-

Finishing off, “Need the f-future mother of my kids safe.” You can only drench his silky pink pillowcase with pure saliva and tears, whimpering when he dabs a finger over a dribbling wad of cum that’d started to spray from your folds. 

Delicately massaging over your overstimulated slope, Choso brings his glazed fingertip over to stick to the ring finger on your left hand and draw. A cute lil’ wedding band. 

“A…proposal?” You’re questioning, head cocked where you’re all laid out prettily on top of the cushy surface. 

And maybe it’s by the fourth round when the two of you can barely even speak, and the massage of his soaked chocolate happy trail had started irritating the cheeks of your ass. Maybe it’s by the fifth when it’s barely even fucking and more so Choso making sure that his high leaves him dry, nothing but a pearly droplet of seed escaping his strawberry divot before he’s pinning you down to the mattress. 

Maybe it’s by the sixth when he’s laying you side by side and gluing his slobbery mouth against yours while his raw, red cock lazily gyrates inside of your sensitive walls. 

Plugged up with a swollen girth homed at the base of his red shaft that you’re slowly realizing is his wide knot so that all he can do is swirl n’ fill each slick, creamy crevice. Not having the strength to thrust even with his use of reverse cursed energy. 

“You’re mine now.” It’s the last thing you hear as the two of you are on the precipice of passing out. Your bed shattered. Your apartment lights charred with the overuse of jujutsu.

Sending out a wave of cursed energy strong enough that it’s a wonder sorcerers aren’t knocking down your door - and yet, Choso still wouldn’t be able to stop his hips. 

His sharp canines sink into the sweaty crook of your neck, much like yours had on his all those hours and hours ago. Yet, something about his bite felt…animalistically permanent. 

Like his infamously venomous technique was flowing through you and marking you. Though, you barely even feel the sting with his reverse cursed technique- not out of his control.

Through a crack of your tear-dewed eyelids, you’re taking in with awe at the way that your dear half-curse roommate’s nosebridge tattoo only grows wider. Stronger. Suddenly matching with a new one that’d started to formulate at the base of his soft, mahogany happy trail - like an incubus tattoo.

He was all yours now. 

Length throbbing harder as his tastebuds sizzle with your crimson, “Forever.” Choso takes oooone good look at you with loving, heart-shaped eyes. And you wonder whether his heat was finally, finally-

Before he’s inhaling your saccharine sweet scent, and you watch in real time as Choso’s molten peripherals dilate. Wide. Panting. Cock twitching. “O-oh, my baby, think m’getting…hard again.”

A/N. Mwahaha summer is coming up so I simply had to.

Plagiarism not authorized.

[housegoblin]

lifes so hard

[lyricsaboutcats]

Visit Original Link

This is a sampling of the leftover alien language sound files that can be found in Mass Effect’s PS3 release. These were meant to be walla, which is an ambient sound effect that mimics a crowd speaking.

At some point during ME1′s production Bioware created these for the alien races and then decided not to use them. The file paths suggest that they were meant to be used in a bar.

Asari (0:01)

Turian (0:11)

Salarian (0:19)

Krogan (0:25)

Volus (0:32)

(Sources: as_env_asari_walla, turian_walla_04, salarian_Patron_02, as_env_krogen1, volus_walla_01, etc.)

Edit: You can actually hear the turian walla in-game if you stand by the stairs in Flux! It seems a few of these leftover sounds (there are about forty sorted by race) were combined into a single generic soundcue. Thanks to @sciencefictionismyjam​ for the correction!

[blueberrisdove-sideblog]

☆. TELLING HIM THAT HE’S “SMALL” !

paring: phainon, mydei, aventurine, dr. ratio, jingyuan x fem!reader

tws : nsfw / smut, creampie (vaginal & anal), breeding kink, reverse cowgirl, mate pressing, spanking, multiple of rounds, darcyphilia, virginity loss, blow-job, face sitting (?), fingering, tummy bulge, making it fit, sloppy sêx, aftercare (?), rough sêx, dubcon elements (?), dumbifiction, headlocks and petnames.

sum : You told him he was small. He showed you otherwise. Suddenly, you didn’t mind taking every inch. MDNI 18+ ONLY.

note : not proof-read as usual.

★ PHAINON :

You thought teasing him would be fun. A quiet little smirk and that sweet whisper —

“Bet you’re not even that big.”

God, the way he looked at you. Not angry. Not offended. Just… amused. Like a priest staring down a blasphemer before the altar.

Now?

Now your legs are trembling, pushed wide open, and you’re struggling to even blink. Phainon’s fingers are deep inside you — slow, deliberate, two of them hooked just right, pressing into the spot that’s got your mouth open and your brain melting.

“Small?” he murmurs, voice like velvet-wrapped gold. “And yet… you’re drooling all over my fingers. Can’t even hold yourself up.”

You want to talk. You can’t.

Every curl of his fingers pulls a moan from you like a prayer. He’s whispering again, lips brushing your ear.

“Nothing to say now? Hm? So quiet. So wet. Should I keep going until you forget your name?”

You’re nodding before you even realize it.

Your hips are grinding up against his palm now, chasing that edge he keeps pulling away from. Every time it builds, he slows down. Holds you there. Makes you feel it. The ache, the pressure, the bliss that never quite breaks. It’s maddening.

“You’re just being prepared,” he says gently, almost reverent, like this is sacred.

“Can’t ruin you in the first round, sweet thing. But by the time I do put it in, you’ll be so far gone you won’t even remember calling me small.”

“Can’t ruin you in the first round, sweet thing,” he purrs again, brushing his fingers from your soaked hole to the base of his cock. It’s heavy, flushed, leaking against your thigh now. Thick. Long. You didn’t even look at it properly—too far gone to notice while he was playing you open like a divine instrument.

“But now?” His hand wraps around the base, stroking once, slow. You see it now. And oh—he’s huge. It’s veiny, flushed deep pink at the tip, curved just enough to hit everything he was already teasing with his fingers. “Now you’re ready.”

You try to answer, but all that comes out is a soft gasp and a nod that feels more like begging.

He moves between your legs, pushing them wider—wider—until you feel stretched out and helpless under him, like an offering. And he leans forward, pressing his cockhead against your entrance. It doesn’t even go in at first. He just grinds there. Spreads you open with slow circles, letting you feel the weight of it, the heat, the stretch that’s coming.

You choke on a sound. “Pha—Phainon—”

“Shhh,” he whispers, and he smiles. Soft. Like he’s about to baptize you in holy fire. “It’ll fit.”

He pushes in slow. Painfully slow. Not because he’s teasing, but because you physically can’t take it all at once. Your cunt clenches around the thick head, already trembling as he sinks in inch by inch, pulling a broken moan out of you each time your walls stretch around him.

You try to breathe. You can’t. His hand comes to your stomach—

—and when he’s halfway in, you see it.

“Look,” he breathes, pressing gently to the bulge forming just below your bellybutton. “That’s me.”

Your eyes roll back. “T-too big—”

“It fits,” he says again, firm this time. “You’re mine. I will fit.”

And with a slow, final push, he bottoms out.

You scream.

The stretch, the pressure, the feeling of him filling you completely—it’s too much. Too perfect. Your body tightens around him like it’s never going to let go. Like you were meant to take this cock. To take his.

He doesn’t move right away. Just stays there, buried inside you, cock twitching, eyes fixed on your face and the outline in your stomach.

“Good,” he murmurs. “You’re doing so good for me. You’re going to take all of it. Again. And again. Until I’m sure it takes.”

And then he moves.

Slow at first—long, deep strokes that drag against every sweet, ruined part of you. You’re already sensitive, overfucked from his fingers, but now? Now it’s bliss. Sacred. Your hips jerk every time he bottoms out. The bulge grows and disappears, over and over, with every thrust.

“Feel that?” he whispers, dragging his lips over your jaw. “That’s what happens when you insult something divine. Now you’re going to feel it in your stomach every time you breathe.”

Your legs are shaking. You’re moaning without meaning to, drooling, tears slipping down your cheeks—not from pain. From how good it is. How full.

He starts moving faster, his rhythm breaking, and his hand goes to your thigh, holding you down as your body tries to pull away from the overwhelming pleasure.

“Where are you going?” he growls, low and possessive now. “You asked for this.”

And then it hits. He slams in deep, grinds, and your vision whites out—back arching as you cum hard, squeezing around him, sobbing from the force of it. But he doesn’t stop. If anything, he gets rougher. Harsher. His breath ragged, his grip bruising.

He’s close.

And you know it.

“I’m going to fill you,” he grits out. “So full you’ll feel it dripping for days. You’ll smell like me.”

You whimper something incoherent, but your hips rock up to meet his thrusts. You want it. You need it. The sacred burn of him claiming every inch.

“I’ll breed you until your body forgets every cock before me. Until it only remembers mine.”

The moment it happens, he growls your name, slams in deep one last time—and stays there.

You feel the heat first. Then the stretch. Then the rush of cum flooding you.

He doesn’t pull out.

Not even a little.

He just groans, low and broken, pressing his forehead to yours as he pumps every last drop inside.

And your stomach swells just slightly more with the warmth.

You don’t know how long it’s been.

The room feels warm. Your body? Weak, trembling, leaking. You’re still stretched open around him, thighs twitching, mouth parted with soft gasps. His cum is still inside you—hot, heavy, pooling deep in your cunt, trickling down your inner thighs with every shift of your hips.

You should be done.

Any normal man would’ve pulled out, cleaned you up, let you come down from the high.

But Phainon? He never even left your body.

He’s still there.

Still inside.

Still hard.

And he’s watching you—blue eyes narrowing, one palm gently resting on the bulge in your stomach.

“You’re full,” he murmurs, brushing your sticky hair off your forehead. “But you’re not bred yet.”

You try to speak. You can’t. Your jaw slackens as he pulls back just slightly, just enough for your raw, fluttering walls to feel the drag of him.

And then—

He thrusts back in.

Hard.

You scream.

It’s not pain. It’s not even pleasure. It’s too much. Your body jerks, overwhelmed, the thick mess of cum inside you squelching as he slams back into your already-spoiled cunt. You cry out again, eyes wide and watery.

“Pha—Phainon, I—can’t—”

“Yes, you can.” His voice is calm, but low. Tight with restraint. “You’re made for this. I just have to remind you.”

His hips roll again, slow at first, but deeper. Hungrier. Every stroke pushes against that oversensitive spot inside, and with the way you’re already so full—so stretched—it feels like he’s everywhere at once. Your body tries to squirm away, but he pins your hips down with one hand and holds your thigh up with the other.

“You can take it,” he breathes. “You will take it. You said I was small, remember?”

His cock slams deep, knocking the air from your lungs. He starts rutting now—thrusts rhythmic, brutal, divine—every inch pounding up into your heat like a promise. The bulge in your stomach pulses with every push, getting more visible. He presses it as he fucks into you, and you sob.

“Look at this,” he whispers. “Look what I’m doing to you. That’s my cock inside your womb, my girl. Claiming every inch. You feel it?”

You nod. You don’t even mean to, but you’re nodding like a broken thing, tears down your cheeks, gasping his name over and over like a prayer.

Phainon groans—finally slipping. His breath hitches, rhythm growing faster, more desperate.

“I’ll fuck you stupid,” he growls. “Fill you until it’s leaking down your thighs for days. Until your stomach stays round even when I pull out.”

He doesn’t stop. Doesn’t slow. He ravages you now. Your pussy is fluttering, clenching, spasming around him, soaking his cock with slick and leftover cum—and he fucks you through it. Like he’s not just fucking you, but teaching your body a lesson.

You cum again. You don’t even realize it until your vision goes white, and your body locks up, and your voice breaks into moans that don’t even sound human anymore. You’re shaking, body arching, drool on your lip—and he still doesn’t stop.

“You love it,” he says into your skin, his lips hot against your temple. “You love being ruined like this. You’ll remember this every time you try to walk.”

You’re crying. Whimpering. Nodding.

And then—his thrusts get sloppier.

You feel him swell.

You know it’s coming.

And he grips your hips and slams in—deep, to the hilt—and holds you there as he spills inside again.

This time? It’s worse.

There’s so much. You can feel it—thick, hot, and endless, rushing in and filling you again like your body was empty. Your belly feels heavier. Rounder. The bulge pulses with warmth as he unloads for the second time.

You can’t even make a sound. Just wide eyes and soft, shattered moans.

He stays there, cock buried inside, twitching, body trembling.

You’re limp. Your thighs are soaked. Your belly’s full. His seed’s dripping down your ass in thick, creamy strings—but he’s still there. Still holding you like something sacred and fragile.

And he leans down, kisses your lips gently, and whispers:

“Still think I’m small?”

You’re too ruined to answer.

But the mess between your legs answers for you.

★ MYDEIMOS :

“You’re small.”

You say it soft. Real soft. Barely a whisper in his ear while you lie under him, half-smirking. You think you’re being cute. Teasing. Stirring that man into a scoff.

But what you get isn’t a scoff or a groan

It’s silence.

Mydei just looks at you—no expression, just heat—and the next second?

He’s on you.

You’re grabbed, flipped, thrown down, and spread open in seconds—legs pinned back to your chest, his thick arms caging you in. You barely get a breath before he’s lining his cock up to your dripping pussy and slams it in.

No warning. No build-up. Just the wet, brutal sound of your cunt getting split open around cock that doesn’t fit but forces its way in anyway.

You scream.

It’s not pain—it’s your pussy trying to figure out how to swallow something that fucking thick. Your lips stretch wide, your walls clench down like they’re confused, stuffed past their limit, already leaking and sucking him in like they know who’s boss now.

He leans in close—chest pressed flat to yours, his full body on you. You can’t move. Can’t breathe. You’re folded up under him like you’re nothing but a fleshlight with a heartbeat, pinned so tight your legs tremble and twitch beside his ribs.

His cock’s balls deep inside.

His stomach presses down on yours.

You look down and see the shape of it—see the thick bulge of his cock pushing up against your belly like he’s trying to break through it.

“Small?” he finally grunts, voice rough in your ear. “You feel that, baby? That’s my dick rearranging your insides.”

And then he starts thrusting into your already wet cunt.

The sound of skin smacking skin gets wetter every second, your pussy making those filthy, squelching noises with every bounce of his hips, juices spilling out everywhere, dripping off your ass and soaking the sheets.

You’re gasping. Whining. Eyes rolling back. You try to say something, maybe beg, maybe moan—but he just grabs your throat and slams in deeper.

You can’t move. You’re folded. Flattened under him. His thick body covers you, keeps you down, presses his weight into you like he’s trying to leave a permanent mark inside your guts.

He spits in your mouth.

“You wanna say that again?” he growls, snapping his hips. “Call me small now.”

You can’t. You’re just moaning, mouth open, drooling on yourself while your pussy flutters and twitches around his cock, slick and swollen from the constant stretch.

“God, you sound stupid,” he groans. “You are stupid now, huh? Just a dumb little hole to fuck. Nothin’ goin’ on in that brain except how deep this cock is.”

And it’s true.

You’re quiet. Brain blank. All you know is the drag and shove of that thick cock inside you, bruising your cunt, flattening your womb. You’re leaking all over his balls, slick sticking to his thighs, his dick punching your guts over and over.

He sits back—brings you with him—doesn’t pull out.

Now you’re in his lap, straddling him, but still bent back, your pussy still spread open, still stuffed with cock. He’s bouncing you now—your ass smacking down on his thighs, tits bouncing, cunt slapping messy around him with every brutal thrust.

You’re just moaning.

“My fuckin’ girl,” he pants. “You were made for this. Made to take all this cock. Gonna breed you right. Knock the last of your thoughts out with my load.”

Your tummy bulges again as he lifts you and slams you down harder.

He wraps one thick arm around your neck—tight headlock—and fucks you through it.

“Say it again,” he hisses in your ear. “Say I’m small while your pussy’s creaming on me like a bitch in heat.”

But you can’t speak. You’re gone.

You’re drooling, eyes crossed, pussy fluttering tight around his dick, holding him in like you’re scared he’ll pull out. You’re gushing—cum and slick squirting out around his cock, dripping mess all over the floor.

He moans. And he breaks.

He grabs your hips, slams you down to the base, and stays there—deep, buried, locked in place.

You feel his cock twitch.

Thick. Heavy. Flooding your cunt, stretching you with cum. You feel it pump into you in hot, heavy spurts, overflowing inside, leaking down your thighs. Your belly gets heavier with it. You swear your pussy’s too full to take more but he doesn’t stop—he keeps grinding.

You’re folded in his lap now, cock still buried so deep it feels like it’s in your throat, cum dripping down between your cheeks in fat, warm globs—and Mydei leans down and brushes your hair from your face like he didn’t just fuck you stupid.

He smirks, nuzzles your flushed cheek.

“Well?” he murmurs, hips slowly rolling again, so slow, just enough to make you feel every inch of him dragging against your raw, sensitive walls. “Still think I’m small?”

You whimper.

That’s all you can manage. Your voice is gone, fucked out of your throat. Your legs won’t stop shaking. Your pussy’s twitching around him like it’s begging for more even though it’s so overstretched, puffy and red from being used.

He hums.

“Didn’t think so.”

And then he kisses you.

Soft. Deep. One hand cupping the back of your head while his tongue lazily rolls against yours. His cock stays buried inside—warm, pulsing—but he’s not fucking you now. Not yet. He’s just holding you there, like he’s soaking in the mess he made.

You blink at him slowly, dazed, drooling, skin slick with sweat.

“Mydei…” you whine.

That’s it. Just his name. Barely even that.

He smiles.

Kisses you again. Starts rocking his hips in that gentle, sweet rhythm—like he’s in love with the way your pussy squeezes him, like he could spend all night just watching you fall apart again under him, all flushed and sore and needy.

“You want more, don’t you?” he murmurs against your lips. “Can feel this little hole begging for it. She’s so greedy, baby.”

You nod. Eyes glassy.

“Good girl,” he breathes. “Let me take care of you, yeah?”

He shifts—pulls out halfway, then slides back in slow, cock thick and veiny and still leaking cum. You moan. Loud. Body arching, hips rolling up to meet him like your pussy’s chasing him.

He watches your face. Watches your expression twist and tremble while he fucks you slow—tender, now, but deep. Deep enough to make your stomach bulge again. Deep enough to make your toes curl.

You look down and whine.

“Look at her,” he growls softly. “Still stretched open. Still dripping for me. You’re so fucking full, baby…”

He slides his hand down between your bodies—presses gently on your lower belly.

You squeal.

Because you feel it—his cock pressing from the inside, bulging your stomach, thick and firm. His thumb rubs circles there while his hips start rolling deeper again, gentle but intentional, grinding into the soft spot inside you like he knows exactly where to touch.

And of course he does.

He’s Mydei.

Your big, mean man. Who just turned into your soft, obsessed husband the second he dumped a load in you.

“Still got room in there,” he murmurs. “Don’t lie, I can feel it. Gonna fill you up again, sweetheart. Gonna make you mine again and again ‘til it’s dripping out of your belly button.”

You’re babbling now.

Begging. Sobbing.

Tears well up as the overstimulation kicks in—but it’s good. It’s so good. He’s so sweet with it, kissing your face, stroking your sides, murmuring filth right into your ear like it’s a love confession.

“You’re everything,” he says. “You hear me? . My pretty girl. I’d fuck you every hour of every day if I could. You were made to take this cock.”

You clench.

He groans.

He cums again.

Slower this time, but hotter somehow—he moans into your mouth, deep and low, hips locked against you as his cock throbs and spills another load inside you, thick and lazy and so much. You feel it pushing everything else out, dripping down your thighs again.

He doesn’t move. Just holds you there, cock deep, cum inside, lips on yours.

“Still small?” he whispers again.

You shake your head, dazed and full.

“No…”

His smirk is feral.

“Didn’t think so.”

★ AVENTURINE :

You’re smirking. Shouldn’t be, but you are.

He’s got you cornered, back against the sleek marble wall of your suite, his tie undone and sleeves rolled, chest warm against yours. One hand rests on the small of your back, the other gripping your chin, keeping your gaze locked with his like you’ve just handed him a challenge on a silver platter.

“Repeat it,” he says softly. Too softly. That smile on his face isn’t a smile , it’s a loaded weapon.

You raise your brows like you’re innocent. You’re not. You know exactly what you said.

“I said,” you purr, playing with the buttons on his shirt like you don’t feel your heartbeat slamming in your chest, “you’re a bit… small.”

There it is. That twitch in his jaw. That flash in his violet eyes like you just poked a sleeping god awake.

He laughs, low and rich, like you just handed him a glass of vintage wine and dared him to break it over your head.

“Small,” he echoes, tilting your face up further. “Interesting.”

You try to act bored. You’re so full of shit.

“Not small small,” you add with a shrug. “Just… not as big as you pretend to be.”

Silence.

Then his lips press against yours — hard. His tongue slides past your lips like he owns them, teeth catching your bottom lip in a cruel, teasing bite before he pulls back just enough to speak again.

“You’re gonna eat those words,” he murmurs, hot against your mouth. “Every single one.”

He takes his time getting you on the bed. Doesn’t throw you down—no, that’d be too easy. He leads you there, fingers on your chin, your throat, your wrist. Every step is deliberate. He pulls you into his lap, clothes still half-on, thighs spread, cock already hard under the slacks he hasn’t even taken off.

“Come on then,” he says, loosening his belt. “Climb on. Since you’re so confident.”

You crawl into his lap like the brat you are — like you’re still in control — grinding slow against the thick outline of his cock as you straddle him, smug smirk still on your face.

“Gonna prove me wrong, little man?” you whisper, voice sugar-sweet.

That earns you a slap.

Not on your face—no, Aventurine’s too elegant for that—but on your ass. Hard. Your body jerks forward, chest colliding with his, a sharp gasp punched from your throat.

“Wrong?” he murmurs, voice thick with amusement. “Oh darling. I’m gonna ruin you so thoroughly, you’ll beg me to be smaller.”

He grabs your waist and flips you around, pulling you back into his lap so you’re facing away from him now, knees spread, his cock sliding free from his slacks and standing proud between your thighs.

You glance down and blink. …Oh. Okay. Maybe he’s not small. Maybe he’s the opposite of small. Maybe you’re very stupid.

Before you can recover, he spits into his palm and strokes himself once—twice— then presses the head against your entrance, one hand gripping your waist and the other trailing slowly, so slowly, down your front.

“Go on,” he whispers against your neck. “Show me how small it feels.”

You sink down.

Your mouth falls open. No words. Just a gasp—long, high, desperate, as his cock stretches you open, thick and hot, filling every inch with a pressure that borders on unbearable.

“Mm?” he purrs, hands gripping your hips as you struggle to take him. “Not speaking now? I thought you were feeling brave tonight.”

You whimper. He laughs.

“Oh, sweetheart,” he groans, sliding in deeper until your thighs are shaking. “This is barely halfway.”

You try to lift yourself off—you try—but he yanks you right back down with a smack to your ass, his cock punching so deep inside you your belly bulges just slightly, perfect and obscene.

“Look at that,” he murmurs, brushing a hand over the spot. “That little bump? That’s me. That’s how ‘small’ I am, hm?”

You’re shaking now. Gasping, drooling, grinding down on him with needy little movements you can’t even pretend are confident anymore.

He drags his lips along your shoulder, bites lightly at your neck, and then thrusts upward. Just once. Deep. Hard.

You sob.

“What was that?” he says sweetly. “Sounded like you were gonna apologize.”

You try—you try so hard—but all that comes out is a pathetic, broken moan.

“Oh, honey,” he breathes, voice full of velvet cruelty. “You don’t get to apologize yet.”

He grabs a fistful of your hair, tugging your head back so you’re arching beautifully in his lap, cock still snug and deep inside you. His other hand? Slipping down your front, fingers rubbing right over where you’re throbbing, making you jolt.

“You don’t apologize,” he hisses, “until your knees give out. Until you’re sobbing on my cock.”

You whimper again.

He slaps your thigh—once, twice—then grips your hips and starts fucking up into you, slow and deliberate at first, then faster. Harder. The wet slap of skin against skin fills the room, mixed with your messy, choked cries and his deep, smug groans.

“You said I was small,” he pants, cock ramming into that spot that makes your eyes roll back. “Say it again.”

“N-no—”

“Say it.”

You try, you do—but all you can say is his name, over and over, like a prayer, like a surrender.

He laughs. Moans. Slaps your ass again and watches the ripple with admiration.

“Not so mouthy now, huh?” he says against your neck. “But don’t worry. You’ll get your words back.”

He pulls out, flips you around, and shoves you down to your knees.

His cock is flushed, slick and throbbing, still twitching from the tight heat of your cunt, and he grips it at the base with one hand while guiding your face forward with the other.

“Put that smart little mouth to work,” he growls. “Since you seem to like talking shit.”

You suck him in with shaking hands, lips stretched wide, eyes glassy. He watches you —loves watching you—as you gag and drool around him, your body still trembling from the wreckage he left in his wake.

“Mm, that’s it,” he groans, thrusting slow into your mouth. “Choke on it, baby. Just like you choked on your pride.”

You blink up at him—ruined, teary-eyed, mascara smudged, thighs shaking from being fucked half senseless—and he smiles down at you like the devil himself.

“Still think I’m small?” he whispers.

You shake your head.

“Mmm. Thought so.”

★ DR. RATIO :

You really thought you were funny.

Laid back against the library table, your skirt barely hiding the subtle shift of your thighs, you looked at him with that smug, syrupy smile. With a little shrug, you said it clearly,

“You don’t seem like much, Doctor. Bet you’d barely reach.”

The air went suddenly colder.

He didn’t even blink. Instead, he stared at you like you’d just insulted his entire intellect or knocked over his carefully brewed tea. His fingers twitched near his belt, then the sharp clack of his book closing echoed like a gunshot. He stood up.

“Is that so?” His voice was low, dry, and uninterested. That dangerous, mean little smile tugged at the corner of his mouth — not amused, not flirtatious, just a condescending twist that made your stomach knot.

“Well. Let’s test your hypothesis, shall we?”

You should have run. But no. You bit your lip and smirked like the brat you were.

That was your first mistake.

He didn’t say a word as he reached out and flipped you over the desk like you weighed nothing, settling you down flat.

“Still think I’m small?” he gritted, voice low and sharp as his hips ground down hard against you. Your mouth fell open, no witty comeback ready — just the sharp, helpless squeal that escaped when you felt every inch of him.

He was not small. Far from it. He was massive, pressing into you relentlessly, while piles of research scattered beneath you like forgotten papers.

Your cheek stuck to parchment. One hand pressed between your shoulder blades, holding you still, while the other landed on your ass with a resounding smack that made the desk creak beneath you.

“Use your words, test subject.” His voice was laced with sarcasm, irritated and turned on. “You wanted a measurement, didn’t you? Want me to push deeper?”

You whimpered, your legs trembling. That wasn’t enough for him. His hand smacked your ass again, harder this time, then grabbed and spread you wider without shame. He watched you — how your body folded and shivered under his weight — your belly visibly bulging each time he thrust deep, as if your insides were made just for him.

“You’ll take it. That’s what happens when you provoke a man smarter than you.”

It was filthy. Your legs shook uncontrollably, thighs wobbling under the pressure, but he didn’t relent. His body was big, lean but solid — every breath sharp, every growl low and frustrated in your ear. He was not romantic. He was not gentle. He was merciless.

“You’re so full it’s pathetic,” he hissed, grinding his hips harder. “Still think I’m small? Look down. Look at what I’m doing to that belly.”

You did.

You shouldn’t have.

A big, round lump pushed out against your stomach, his cock deep enough to mark you completely.

“You’re drooling,” he sneered. “Still think I’m small?”

You couldn’t answer. You were gasping, nails scraping at the wood as he locked his arms tight around your waist — not letting you escape, not letting you think — mate pressing you until your toes curled and your moans came ragged and raw.

“Say you’re sorry.”

You didn’t.

So he spanked you again, harder this time, then slammed into you deeper until the wet squelching of your cunt echoed through the silent study.

You choked out something broken and breathless. He didn’t care.

“I’ll breed the arrogance out of you,” Ratio muttered under his breath, like your whining was just another tedious experiment. “Let’s see if a few loads fix your attitude.”

He gripped your waist tighter, his breath hot against your ear as his hips pressed deep and unrelenting. Every thrust carved into you, making that heavy bulge in your belly push out more, like you were stretched perfectly around him—no chance to hide it, no mercy given.

His hand found your ass again, slapping it hard, fingers kneading and holding you in place. “You think you’re so clever, talking shit. But look at you now—mine. All wrapped around me, dripping and desperate.”

Your breath hitched, body trembling as he kept pounding into you, the sound of your slick wetness mixing with the harsh smacks filling the quiet room.

“Say it,” he growled, voice low and rough. “Say you’re mine.”

Your voice broke, trembling out, “I’m yours.”

His grin was cruel and satisfied as he pulled you flush against him, mate pressing with all his weight, making sure you couldn’t move, couldn’t escape. The fullness inside you stretched tighter, and he whispered, “You’re so full. Can’t get enough of me, can you?”

You whimpered, head thrown back, utterly undone.

With a sharp slap to your ass, he pulled out just enough so you could feel the thick length twitching, then slammed back inside, his pace rougher, more demanding.

“I’m gonna breed that stubbornness right out of you,” he breathed, voice dark and possessed. “You’ll remember this every damn time you think you can test me.”

Your walls clenched hard around him, moans slipping free as he kept driving you into the desk, holding you down like you were his prize.

“Beg for it,” he said, dragging his hand up to grip your hair, tilting your face so you had no choice but to look at him.

You whimpered, “Please… don’t stop.”

His laugh was low and satisfied. “That’s my good girl.”

He pressed forward, hips snapping, every movement pounding deeper, stretching you full and making your belly roll with the pressure.

Your breath caught as he tensed, voice rough, “Say it. Say I’m the only one.”

“I’m yours,” you gasped, trembling and undone.

With a final, heavy thrust, he claimed you fully, breath hitching as he spilled inside, filling you with everything he had.

He held you pressed tight as you trembled beneath him, hips still rolling lazily, possessive and relentless.

“I told you,” he whispered against your skin, “I’m never small.”

★ JING YUAN :

You really shouldn’t have said it.

You really shouldn’t have looked the General of the Cloud Knights in the eye—shirt tugged up, thighs bare and your panties already wet—and had the audacity to say:

“Tch. With all that confidence, your cock’s probably small anyway.”

The room went quiet for a second.

The kind of quiet where even the crickets were like oh no she didn’t.

Jing Yuan blinked.

Smiled.

Then laughed—that slow, deep, maddening chuckle that slithered straight down your spine like warm honey.

“Small, huh?” he repeated, stretching his arms behind his head like he wasn’t already rock hard in his robes. “Ah… You poor little thing.”

You weren’t prepared for how fast he moved.

One second you’re smug.

Next second your back hits the mattress with a soft thud, legs spread open like he owned them, your panties tugged to the side and his thumb lazily brushing over your soaked folds.

“Say that again.” His voice was low, a little breathy. He hadn’t even taken his robes off. “Let’s see how long you keep that mouth running.”

You gasped when he pulled it out.

Holy—

He knew. Oh, he knew exactly what kind of look crossed your face. The shock. The panic. The twitch of your thighs like they were second-guessing their own bravery.

“I think someone owes me an apology,” he murmured, rubbing the head of his cock against your clit like he was just casually testing the weather. “Or should I make you eat those words?”

Smug bastard. That slow, lazy smile. That thick, achingly hard cock.

You didn’t even have time to beg.

He grabbed you by the back of your head, tilted your jaw open, and fed it to you.

Slow. Deep. Sloppy.

“Mm— look at you now.” His hips rolled like he was half-asleep, voice curling with pure sin. “Choking on the small one, are we?”

You clawed at his thighs when he held you down, cock pressing heavy on your tongue, mocking your every breath. He groaned every time you gagged around him, every time you tried to glare up at him through teary eyes.

“Can’t talk back with your mouth full, hm?” Jing Yuan chuckled, cupping your cheek. “Maybe I’ll keep you like this for a while. Let that attitude melt off your tongue.”

When he finally let you breathe, you were wrecked.

Mascara smeared. Drool dripping down your chin. Knees trembling.

“Aw,” he cooed, petting your hair. “What happened to all that big talk?”

And then—he flipped you over.

One smooth motion, you were face-down, ass up, and his cock already nudging at your entrance.

“This might stretch a little,” he murmured, completely fake sweetness in his tone.

Liar.

You screamed when he pushed in. Inch by thick, punishing inch. Your pussy clenched like it was trying to reject him, but it only made him groan, hands gripping your hips like he was claiming them.

“Fuck, you feel that?” he growled into your ear, voice deeper now, panting against your neck. “Say it again. Say it’s small while it’s splitting you open.”

You tried.

You couldn’t.

Not when he started moving.

Lazy, powerful thrusts that made the bed shake and your legs wobble. He stayed buried deep, hips grinding in slow circles like he had all the time in the world. His hand slipped between your thighs, rubbing your clit like he was spoiling you—just to drive you even crazier.

“Tell me how small I am while you’re dripping like this,” he teased, pinching your clit until you squealed. “Come on, sweetheart. Be brave again.”

All you could do was cry his name.

Over and over.

When you finally came, it was messy. Shaky. So tight around him he groaned into your skin, fucking you through it until your body gave up.

You collapsed, twitching.

And he?

He stayed inside you. Still hard. Still smug.

Leaning down, lips brushing your ear, he whispered:

“…Want to try that again?”

You don’t remember how you got here.

Well, actually—you do. It started with a smug smirk, your bratty mouth, and one too many giggles tossed at the general’s expense.

“With how lazy you are, your cock’s probably soft and small too.”

And now?

Now you’re stuffed full.

Flat on your back, legs trembling, and that massive cock buried so deep your belly’s showing a bulge.

You don’t even have the words anymore. Just little hiccuping moans, drool sliding from the corner of your mouth, and your fingers pressed against your lower belly in pure awe.

“Look at that.” Jing Yuan leans over you, lazy eyes glinting as he lays his palm right on the bulge in your tummy. He presses.

You squeal. Your legs twitch.

“You were running your mouth earlier,” he murmurs, thumb rubbing soft, slow circles over the swollen outline of his cock in your gut. “And now you’re just whining and taking it.”

He rolls his hips, and your back arches. Your soaked pussy clenches again like it can’t help it.

“Can feel me here, can’t you?” he purrs. “Might be small… but it’s so deep, baby.”

You try to speak—really—but all that comes out is a whimper, a little breathless sob of “Yuan—too much, I-I can’t—”

He smirks.

“Yes, you can.”

Then he pulls out—slow, dripping wet, your folds clinging to him—and slams right back in, thick and deep enough you swear you see stars.

You scream.

Your body jerks. Your brain just shorts out.

And he leans down, whispering filth into your ear:

“You don’t need to think. Just keep your legs open and take your stuffing like a good little pillow princess.”

You moan, dumb and needy. All that snark from earlier? Gone. Replaced with sniffles, tears, and broken hiccups as he pounds into you—slow, lazy, and endlessly smug.

“Fuck, gonna breed you,” Jing Yuan growls, fucking you deeper, slapping your thigh. “Gonna fill you so good you’ll be dripping my cum for days. Want that, huh? Want to get knocked up on a small cock?”

You nod.

You sob.

He groans when you clench down again, cock pulsing, hips slamming into your thighs as he spills inside you. Thick, messy ropes that flood your womb and drip out around his base—but he doesn’t stop.

“Stay still,” he pants, pinning you down. “You’re gonna take another one.”

And you do.

And another.

You don’t even realize he’s lying down beneath you until you’re shoved onto his face.

Your thighs shake. His tongue slides right up your slit and licks his own cum from your pussy.

Your moans are broken, hands digging into his messy blond hair as you grind down, riding his face like it’s the only way you remember how to breathe.

“That’s it,” he hums against your folds, voice muffled by your soaked pussy. “Sit on me. Get dumb on this tongue too.”

You do.

You lose your mind.

You cum. Again. And again. So messy, so overstimmed, your voice cracking into little sobs.

When you collapse off his face, ruined and twitching, he kisses your thigh.

And whispers—

“Still think it’s small?”

© 2024-2025 blueberrisdove-sideblog all rights reserved. pretty please, do not steal my dividers, translate and plagiarize any of my works, or either repost my works in any other platform without asking, thank you!

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Li's side window. Human form of black wolf and great hawk are still in progress.

Someone has asked me will there be fem version, I'm still learning how to draw fem...and I like drawing man, most likely much, much later. I'll try.

[teefushi]

LAW & RAW, ORDER & OLDER !

CONTENT WARNING. MDNI, fem! reader, law student! reader, lawyer higuruma, 6.9k words, age gap (24&36), fluff & smut, slow burn? game of thrones references, porn with plot, unprotected sex, office sex, rough? sex, sloppy makeouts, multiple orgasms, overstimulation, higuruma is an EATER, spit, praise, choking, pussy spanking, dirty talk, belly bulge, big dick higuruma, he loves eye contact, dacryphilia? he’s mean & cocky if you squint. enjoy!

your pen sits between your teeth as your eyes switch from the thick textbook splayed open on your kitchen island and your laptop screen.

the cursor blinks for the millionth time in your setup word document. countless words plastered in that irritating format of times new roman size twelve that you’ve done a thousand times over.

words mutter under your breath as you multitask in reading, taking notes, and applying the newfound information to your assignment.

“hey, is your prof still asking you guys to take internships?”

your roommate comes from hibernating out of her room, eyes glued to her phone as she saunters over to the kitchen.

you barely catch the words that fly out her mouth, brows furrowing as you look up from your work for the first time in hours. the swivel stool you sat on creaks as you sit up straighter, cringing from how long you held that crouching position.

“uh…. no.” you shake your head, confused as to why she brought it up. she was never the type to dwell on your life as a law student unless overhearing about a case study that seemed ‘too juicy’ to skip out on. “deadline’s like, next week so they’re just talking about the paper due the week after to describe our experience so far.”

“oh.” she says, sounding surprised. “well, did you find anything?”

you hum. “i’ve got an interview tomorrow. it’s multi-hire so i’ve got a good chance. why?”

“nothing really.” she shrugs, taking a breath as she scavenges the freezer, grabbing the first pint of ice cream she sees. “a friend of my cousin works at this law firm and i think she said they’re looking for a temp since she’s going out of the country for a while.”

you nod, chewing on the end of your pen. “send me their info. i’ll check it out.”

so that’s exactly what you do. your roommate helps you exchange information with this friend who you’ve learned to be is a young woman named shimizu. she worked as a assistant for an independent defense attorney, higuruma hiromi.

you’ve heard his name a few times from news outlets, primarily known to take on difficult cases but nonetheless highly skilled and quite honestly a prime example of what you hoped to become as far as talent.

shimizu was going overseas for a little over half a year. that’s entirely way more than what your assignment calls for but you would be paid well plus it could serve as the perfect job to strengthen your experience in law.

it didn’t take much for shimizu to hire you, her eagerness to hurry up and leave was clear. she sent you an email describing her normal routine, things to keep an eye on that higuruma normally forgets and a warning to just be patient for any cases he picks up.

naturally, you were nervous. palms sweating as you clutched your purse and tucked the folder shimizu provided tightly between your arm.

your heels clack with each step you make up into the building then finally, in bold letters, ‘higuruma law office’. you knock, looking around as you wait for a response.

“come in.”

the voice is so deep it sends chills down your spine. anxiety pools your chest as you twist the handle, making slow hesitant steps into the office.

it’s small but not cramping and fairly neat. you continue forward, making your presence known. who you assume to be higuruma sits at a chair, pen scribbling against a paper at an incredible speed.

he doesn’t look up at first, deeply sighing and too focused on the work in front of him. that is until he takes notice of your silence following your entry. his eyes immediately lift, dragging over your attire for a momentary second. “i’m sorry.” he clears his throat, standing then approaching you with his hand out. “how can i help you?”

“i… uhm… i’m y/n.” you meet his hand with a nervous smile. “i’m filling in for shimizu?” it’s embarrassing how unsure you sound as if you hadn’t met shimizu yourself telling you detail for detail about the duties of the job.

his brows furrow slightly as he slowly slips his hand from your weak grip. he checks his watch then runs his fingers through his hair. “right, right. i forgot about that…” he sighs, moreso to himself and then nods, pointing to the empty cubicle beside his. “take a seat, did shimizu already inform you on what we’re currently working on?”

you nod, carefully setting your belongings down and making yourself comfortable on the chair.

“could i see? if you don’t mind.” he stands over you, watching as you turn the monitor on with quickness and log in to your email account, surfing through the important ones you had starred before finally landing on shimizu’s.

higuruma leans over, his presence immediately makes you feel small and you can slightly feel the weight of his chest as he gently grabs the mouse from your hand.

you keep your eyes on the screen, fiddling with your fingers while he looks at the lengthy details relayed. suddenly, he takes a breath then clicks forward and slides the keyboard over.

“looks good.” he finally stands, eyes dropping down to you. “we’ll just be working on that for today. if anything changes i’ll let you know.”

for the first three weeks of working for higuruma goes the same way. coming into the office, saying hello, and him sharing any updates on the current case. some days call for extremely long hours, others are your typical. then there were days like today where you’d be traveling together and have to stay overnight at hotels.

one room, separate beds.you and higuruma hadn’t crossed that bridge of being comfortable with one another just yet. it was still awkward smiles and brief exchanges of conversation only in relation to work.

with the work day being over, you showered and decided to walk around the hotel for a bit, maybe grab a bite to eat. you also brought your textbooks and laptop so you could use the time to study for the baby bar you have coming up.

you sat at a table, eating as you focus on your studies. no more than half an hour passes when a figure approaches your table.

“mind if i sit?”

your eyes lift at the deep voice, widening for a short second as you realize it to be higuruma’s. he stands there in a plain black t-shirt and same colored plaid pajama pants with a plate of food in his hand.

it was different to see him in a more cosy state rather than being suited up. when you focus on the fact he’s still there, tilting his head as he waits on your response you sit up and nod a bit frantically.

“yes—yes, of course. please sit.” you gesture to the seat ahead of you which he takes.

it’s silent for a moment as you’re more frigid now, eyes glued to your book without reading a damn thing. higuruma pops a fry into his mouth, looking around the semi-packed dining area before returning his attention to you. “you’re still in school?”

you nod, “in my first year.”

he raises a subtle brow at that which you don’t even notice considering you’ve found it difficult to always make eye contact with him.

“first year?” he hums, chewing down on another fry. “you’re young.”

“i guess…” you laugh shyly. “it’s not like you’re old.”

he smiles at that, leaning in with his elbows on the table as he continues to take singular bites of his food. “you don’t think so? how old do you think i am?”

you shrug, finally lifting your eyes to scan the features of his face.

he was obviously older than you but you only deduced that from the way he talks and conducts himself yet he didn’t share any facial features that gave away his age.

“thirty?” you squint, not wanting to guess too high and he gets offended.

he chuckles, shaking his head. “no, but i’m honored you thought that low. i’m thirty six.”

“still young.” you smile, dropping your eyes back down.

“so what’re you learning?” he sighs, leaning back again, spreading his long legs to be more comfortable and points at your books.

“nothing really.” you mumble. “just studying for the baby bar.”

“wow…” he nods partially in shock, suddenly thinking of the age gap between you. it’s been so long since his days of staying up all day and all night long when preparing for that exam. “you think you’ve got it? i could help you out.”

you definitely don’t got it. there were still at least another two months before you’d have to take the exam. all the current information you were learning was still processing and quite honestly you had a habit of doubting your skills and weren’t sure if you’d be able to get the score you’re aiming to achieve.

you shake your head at higuruma’s offer. “no, it’s okay. you already have so much going on. i rather not add to that.”

“i’m offering.” he smiles warmly, wanting to assure that it wasn’t a big deal as he crosses his arms lazily across his chest.

it’s only for second that you ogle the surprising size of his bicep when it’s contracted. you shake your head again. “i’ll be fine. thank you though. i appreciate it.”

higuruma hums not pushing any further on the subject. “do you drink?” he asks after swallowing down a bite of his burger.

“sometimes.” you shrug, clicking through your documents of notes that you were hardly paying attention to with higuruma making small conversation.

“would you like to drink now?”

the second time you look at him you see the teasing look in his own as if he’s urging you to loosen up for the night. he’s clearly in the mood to get to know you. perhaps one night of a few drinks wouldn’t be so bad.

“i suppose…” you sport a bashful smile, clicking out of your tabs and shutting down your laptop. you set it aside with your textbooks as higuruma orders your first round of drinks.

it starts off timid as if he’s testing the waters with some cocktails then began to try a little of everything. tropical drinks, shots, beer, and wine. of course you limited yourself to one of each— aside from the shots due to the fact you had a busy day tomorrow but it was surely enough to get you a bit passed tipsy.

higuruma proved to be holding his liquor better than you, smiling fondly as you babble on about the targaryen family line. at first he was curious about a video you were laughing at from tiktok and had to explain it was from game of thrones. you then learned he never watched the show and thought he’d find major interest in it.

you would yap about the politics, power, family, loyalty, and corruption. though once you got to the targaryens, higuruma had to pause at the mention of inbreeding.

“so what’s the difference between velaryons’s and targaryen’s?”

“velaryon and targaryen are house names.” you giggle, toying with your straw. “family lines. being valyrian is like, their racial background.”

“interesting…” he nods, sipping on his rum & coke. “and what’s the relationship between uh… daenerys? and jon?”

“i really shouldn’t be telling you this.” you laugh. “don’t you want to watch it now?”

“…i guess you’re right.” he grins, followed by a sigh as he stretches his arms over his head. “should we watch it tonight?”

you check the time on your phone, it was late. nearing midnight. it was tempting to indulge in a late night watch of one of your favorite shows but you’d probably regret it by the morning.

you bite down on your bottom lip, hiding the smile that wants to show. “it’s late…” you sigh out. “we probably shouldn’t.”

“then let’s start now.” he urges, opening his wallet and dropping a few dollars to cover the tab and allow the server to end their night with a more than generous tip. “c’mon.” he gestures his head, holding his hand out to you.

even with being a little drunk, you still felt shy coming in such close contact with higuruma. as you lifted your hand to connect with his, he guided you through the hotel and it grew quieter upon reaching the elevators.

he’s still holding your hand, waiting for them to open. you attempt to ignore the way his thumb gently brushes against your skin rhythmically and how this must look to bystanders. the thought is cut short when the doors finally split open and higuruma lets go of your hand to palm your lower back.

higuruma follows you in, pressing the floor number. you stand side by side, him humming a soft tune whilst you stare down at your feet to avoid meeting his stare that you could feel burning into you.

it was like a breath of fresh air upon reaching your floor and seeing the doors open. higuruma places his hand to your back again, guiding you down the quiet hall before reaching your room.

he presses the keycard to the sensor, following you in. you take slow steps inside, dropping your laptop and textbook onto your bed.

“what’s it on?” he huffs, turning on the tv.

you make yourself comfortable under the sheets, sighing in relief from the cold. “hbo.”

he surfs for a few seconds before shaking his head. “i don’t think this tv has that.”

“oh…” you frown then look at your laptop. “i mean, we could watch it on my laptop?”

he turns, thinking on what that means.

you both knew that meant laying down on the same bed, next to each other. he rubs his chin in thought. “only if you’re okay with it.”

your body grows hot but you nod slowly, scooting over to make space for him. he eyes the empty space for a few seconds, making hesitant steps forward. “are you sure? we could always watch it another time.”

“…it’s okay.” you spoke softly. “i want to watch it with you.”

he smiles at that, proceeding to lift up the covers and tuck himself under the covers beside you. the immediate warmth of his skin brushes yours and the two of you look at each other the moment he’s settled.

his eye contact is so intense and… unsettling almost that it has chills run down your spine. you want to look away but higuruma speaks up before you can.

“you’re really shy for a future lawyer.”

your brows furrow at his statement. “m’not.”

“you are.” he chuckles, eyes low as he can feel the crash from all the drinks overtake him.

“i think it’s just you.” you boldly argue.

he raises a brow. “yeah? what about me makes you so shy?”

you open your mouth but nothing can follow through especially with him so close you can feel your stomach churn when you catch yourself looking at his lips. “just… shut up.” you huff, grabbing for your laptop.

higuruma laughs, watching you log into hbo, searching for game of thrones. he steps out of the bed momentarily to turn off the lights before you can press start.

you settle the laptop atop both your legs, sighing as you press play on the first episode.

within the first thirty minutes, you fall asleep, your head rested against higuruma’s shoulder. he stayed up through three episodes, thoroughly enjoying the cause of events but forced himself to go to sleep or else he’d be having a rough day.

by the time the morning comes and your alarm goes off, you groan softly, eyes struggling to flutter open. you aimlessly search for your phone, shutting off the annoying sound before laying back down but then you feel a touch of skin.

you fully open your eyes, face twisting in fear at the sight of higuruma in your bed sound asleep. you weren’t that drunk where you didn’t remember wanting to watch game of thrones together but you weren’t sure why he stayed on your bed through the rest of the night.

you poked him, the action immediately waking him up. he breathes heavily, eyes fluttering open. he turns his head to face you. “good morning.”

“…morning.” you mumble, all the slight confidence you gained last night completely gone. though you did feel a certain comfortability now around him.

“sleep okay?” he husks out, lifting himself from the bed.

you nod, nervously twisting the sheets.

he checks the time. it was still early and you wouldn’t be meeting with your client until the afternoon. “do you want breakfast?”

“sure.”

“anything in particular?” he grabs his keys from the nightstand, swinging them around his pointer finger.

“your choice.” you shrug.

he hums. “go shower. get dressed. i’ll be back.”

you do as he says, showering, getting dressed, then eat breakfast with him once he gets back.

the day follows on as planned, you meet with the client, discuss the case, write down details, aim to search for more evidence and layout options.

for the next few weeks, you spent long hours traveling with higuruma to collect more evidence in support of your case. for a time you were able to juggle all the work but the stress of your bar exam coming up was starting to take a toll.

you wanted more time to study but you also had to sacrifice a lot of time to help higuruma. so you start to force yourself to stay up most nights, hardly getting any sleep, caffeine intake drastically rising.

it not only began to present itself through your physical presence but with the way you interacted with higuruma. at first he could understand having been in your position of working between school, studying, and work but as the weeks passed he noticed your decline was starting to affect your work performance.

he’d allow for a few things to slide but not at the risk of a client's future behind bars. so when he asks you a question and you remain too zoned out to answer, he’ll sigh.

“y/n.”

“hm?” you’ll hum, pen twisting between your teeth, completely focused on the textbook laid out.

“look at me.” he commands, tone still gentle as he waits for your eyes to meet his. higuruma was completely aware of your inability to do so but he couldn’t care at the moment. so when you only lift them for a second as if to show you were listening then drop them back to your computer screen he shakes his head with a sigh.

you don’t even notice him stand then come around to palm your chair until he shuts your laptop closed and snatches the pen from your hand. he ignores your surprised reaction. “is this becoming too much for you?”

you frown, opening your mouth to say something but you can’t follow through. instead you shake your head.

he spins you in your seat, forcing you to face him. “can you look at me when i’m speaking to you, please?”

“higuruma, i’m sorry—” you start with a small pout, not listening to what he asked.

“you don’t need to apologize. just look at me.”

it’s silent for a few seconds and you finally flicker your eyes up to look at him. a hand rests on the chair, the other on your desk completely caging you in. you can smell the strong but warm scent of his cologne that radiates off his skin and clothes.

“is this too much for you?” he asks again. “i can give you a break.”

“n-no.” you deny his inquisition. “the work is fine. it’s just… the studying. i’ve got my exam coming up really soon, i’m sorry.”

“it’s fine.” he assures, “look, on the weekends and on our breaks, i’ll help you study. it’s not nice seeing you like this, okay?”

you nod and he stands at his full height, comfortably squeezing your shoulder then patting your head. “take a nap. you look like you need it.”

there was about one more month left until you’d have to take the exam and higuruma keeps through on his promise and dedicates any moment of extra time he has to help you study.

his methods actually allowed you to gain more sleep, balance work more appropriately, and retain the information easier. you genuinely felt like you were learning. you even complimented higuruma on his skills of teaching, claiming that he’d make a great professor.

this continues throughout the month until it was time for the actual day. he helped you study in the morning for a bit, not too much as he didn’t want to override your brain. he got you breakfast and decided to drop you off at the testing site.

“i’ll be right here, okay?”

you nod, looking at him with a solemn smile. you hesitate at first but overwhelmed by your emotions you reach over the console to give him a hug. “thank you…”

he lets out a breath that sounds close to a laugh, hands coming around to circle your body. his palm rubs up and down your back in a comforting motion. “you’ve got this.” he whispers. “good luck.”

you head into the building, gone for a total of three and a half hours. he fell asleep in the car for about an hour until he hears three rampant knocks to the passenger window.

he sees your figure standing there with other individuals following out the building. immediately, he unlocks the door, watching you hop into the car without a word.

“how do you think you did?” he sighs, turning the ignition of the car.

you can only shrug, anxiety riddled through your body. passing was the only option for you. you opted out in taking it the first month the exam is taken so you’d have more time to study. this was your last chance or else you wouldn’t be able to advance in your studies.

higuruma takes in your worrisome expression, reaching his hand out to gently squeeze your shoulder. “should we go out for some drinks?”

you let out a small laugh, looking at him and nodding.

the two of you settle for some small bar, doing the same as before. indulging in every kind of drink but still keeping limitations. eventually, higuruma suggested to watching game of thrones and you in your slightly drunk state of mind couldn’t deny.

you end up at his home because you were too scared of what your roommate might say if you brought higuruma home. you step into the threshold, eyes wide as you stare around in awe.

“why is it so empty?” you giggle, noticing the lack of… anything.

it was as if he simply bought the house and disregarded buying any furniture, dishes, and utensils. does he even live here? was your initial thought as you scavenged through his pantry, cabinets, and refrigerator only to find nothing that could saturate your hunger.

“i spend most of my time at the office.” he huffs, tugging off his suit jacket and tossing it on his sofa. “i mainly come back here to shower and change clothes.”

you hum, clutching your purse as you continue to look around, dragging your fingers along surfaces.

that’s sort of become your lifestyle too now. you’ve no doubt seen higuruma more than your own roommate— which supported why you definitely couldn’t bring him over without warning.

he steps towards you, pointing to your purse and jacket. “would you like to shower?”

“that’d be nice…” you nod, handing him your belongings to toss with his jacket.

he grabs an extra towel he luckily had and his pajamas for you to wear since you didn’t have any clothes of your own. “i plan to order some food, do you want anything in particular?”

“dealer’s choice.” you smile at him. he nods, leaving you to shower as he picks on what to eat. you shower for about half an hour as you spent half of that time snooping around his restroom for any indication of a woman being here.

it was surely none of your business but you couldn’t help but find yourself intrigued by higuruma. naturally, amongst the things you wondered about was if he shared a life with someone. though it should’ve been obvious with the way he never spends his time at home and the simple fact of you being here.

you dried yourself off, putting on his clothes and unsure of where to put the used towel, you walk into his bedroom searching for a hamper. though you find yourself eager to just look around. there wasn’t much to find except for the basics.

you open his closet and find a wide range of suits all in black and white along with his pajamas that were the same color. he also had a distinct collection of watches and cologne.

you end up spraying the different fragrances into the air, adoring the mixture of them being woody, earthy, and citrusy. you take one, spraying it onto yourself.

“having fun?”

you turn fast on your feet, startled by his voice. he sports a teasing smile and you can’t help but feel your body grow hot in embarrassment. “um… sorry…” you laugh nervously, placing the cap back on to the cologne and settling it back in its original spot.

he shakes his head, fond of how you looked, “it’s alright. i ordered chinese.” he then hands you the remote to the tv and his phone for you to track the food. “log in to hbo. i’ll go take a quick shower.”

you nod, heading back out and taking a seat on his sofa. you log into hbo and as you waited, you ended up using his phone to scroll through tiktok. you definitely could’ve used your own but it felt more fun to use his considering the fact he didn’t even have the app in the first place.

the food arrived and within ten minutes after higuruma was done with his shower, fully dressed. he was wearing the same thing as you with the exception of his clothes looking larger on your frame.

he takes a seat beside you, spreading out the arrangement of food he bought on the mini table he had. you press play on the show and hour after hour you felt happier, completely forgetting that you even had an exam today. forgetting that you spent months worrying about this very day all thanks to higuruma.

you always grew a certain amount of courage after drinking so it went without a thought for you to sigh after feeling full then lean sideways to rest your head on his shoulder.

“thank you for today.” you mumble, eyes glued to the screen.

higuruma’s sprawled back, legs spread until you lean against him.

he doesn’t want to think too hard about the current proximity, simply enjoying the moment as he throws an arm around you so you’d feel more comfortable snuggling up to him.

“you deserved it.” he squeezes you gently and you don’t say anything in response, just cozying up to him some more.

from that day, you and higuruma grew closer than ever and you began to notice that you often thought about him, smiled at him more, opened up, and gained the courage to look at him longer.

with every compliment, touch, and night that you spent at his house watching game of thrones whilst eating food, there was no denying that you shared particular feelings for him.

and as the weeks past, you began to wonder what you should do with these feelings until the time came where the scores for the bar exam were out. the two of you were sat in the office per usual, and you received an email notification describing that the scores for the exam were out and where to check them.

you swallowed thickly, logging in to your admissions portal.

“did you ever get a copy of the prosecution's discovery?” higuruma asks, mindlessly flipping through a file.

his question is followed by silence and he’ll lift his head. “y/n?”

upon the continuous silence, higuruma rolls on his chair, peeking his head over to your cubicle to see you hiding your face and your shoulders shaking. concerned at the sight, he stands, and approaches you to palm your shoulder and that’s when he begins to understand that you’re crying when a fragile sob falls past your lips.

his heart burns at the broken sound. “what’s wrong?” his eyes lift to your monitor and see the familiar page of the exam results. he scrolls through the letter to see you’ve passed.

a laugh of relief spills from his throat, glad that your reaction isn’t due to any devastating news. his hand circles around your wrist and tugs at it. “come here.”

you slowly stand, allowing your emotions to flow upon feeling his arms encircle you tightly. you’ll cry into his chest, managing to thank him through your tears. he’ll shush you, rubbing at your back and cradling the back of your head.

“you did such a good job.” he murmurs into your hair.

he continues to mumble praises into your hair and ear, holding and consoling you until your crying has calmed down. once he hears you letting out small breaths to control your breathing, he pulls back, wiping at your tear stained cheeks. “i’m so proud of you.”

your body grows hot at the compliment paired with his stare as he gently cups your cheek, thumb swiping across the skin.

you let out a shaky breath, not sure if it was from your crying or that feeling pooling between your legs. your eyes drop down to his lips then back up to his eyes. higuruma does the same and you can’t help but curl your fingers around his dress shirt.

both of your breathing picks up and neither of you are sure of what to do in this moment. you can feel his free hand drop from your back then down to your waist as you each exchange flickering looks between your lips and eyes.

“higuruma…” you breathe out and he shakes his head, closing his eyes then pressing his forehead to yours.

“hiromi.” he corrects, switching his hand that cups your cheeks to palm the back of your neck. “my name… say it. that’s all i need.”

you fight the whine that bubbles in your throat, gripping tightly onto him as you open your mouth. “hiromi…”

he gives in at the immediate desperation his name holds, roughly pressing you against him so your lips could meet.

the two of you have your hands moving everywhere along your bodies and a gasp rushes from your lungs as he frantically lifts you onto the desk.

items clatter everywhere as he knocks them away whilst dipping his tongue into your mouth. it’s frantic and eager the way your mouths clash together. soft groans and moans spilling into the air as papers crumble beneath your figure.

you kick off your heels as hiromi hikes your skirt around your hips, pressing your back against the surface and knocking your legs open with his knees, revealing the lace panties hidden underneath them.

he presses himself against you with a rough groan, one hand hoisting your leg at his waist, whilst the other taps your cheek then grips your face to press into them. “open.”

your jaw widens, and hiromi hums before spitting in your mouth then leaning in to connect your lips again.

he’s hard and big.

it’s all you can think of as your tongues mesh together in perfect harmony.

weeks of built up feelings that you both tried so hard to fight all falling at the seams. you reach up to tug at his black roots as he unconsciously ruts himself against your clothed core.

you take advantage when he finally pulls away, a string of saliva following with him. his lips are swollen and covered in spit as he leans down to kiss along your jaw, then suck at the skin of your neck. you pant feverishly against his ear, gripping tighter onto him each time his bulge connects with your clit just right.

deep shaky breaths fly through his nose as rolls his hips, eyes squeezing tightly from the tightness building in his pants. it felt so fucking good to hear those soft whimpers and moans escape your lips. “feels so good.” he groans, pressing his forehead against yours. you two practically rubbing against each other like bunnies in heat without even starting the main course.

you whimper feeling yourself clench around nothing. your hands grasp for higuruma and he hums, kissing just below your ear. “gonna cum?”

you nod, mouth slacked open as he breathes harshly against your neck. “that’s okay, sweetheart.” he huffs, using his free hand to travel down between your bodies. fuck, he thinks the moment his fingers feel how drenched your panties are. your eyes blow wide as he pinches your clothed clit then rubs in tight circles. “you can cum, it’s okay.”

“oh my god.” you tremble and writhe against his lengthy figure, clawing at his back and arms as you feel lost on what to hold on with your orgasm building every second.

he stops the movement of his hips, grasping your neck so you’d be staring straight at him as he picks up the pace of his fingers. “come on.” he licks his lips, maintaining the eye contact he forces you to hold. “i wanna see you. you’re almost there.”

“hiromi—” you choke on the air, threatening to close your eyes but he shakes your head, warning you to keep them open as your body trembles from the euphoria that overcomes you.

“good job.” he wipes at your forehead and cheeks, standing to his full height. you use his tie to lift yourself up, meeting your lips again and immediately sloshing your tongue with his. while he fumbles to unbutton your shirt you do the same then aggressively toss off his tie. his large hands grope at your breast before unclipping your bra to flick and twist at your nipple. you moan into his mouth, fingertips caressing the light muscles of his abs.

he finds it quite amusing how you flinch with each twist and tug but nonetheless you let him continue his worship of your body. he leaves your skirt cinched around your waist, squeezing your hips then slowly tugs your panties down your legs.

you can’t imagine what he plans to do next until he drops both his hands behind your thighs, pressing them down as far as he can before bending down to dip his head between your legs.

his tongue flattens against your leaking hole, sucking up all slick your pussy produced. you reach straight for his hair, choking on a moan. “w-wait, i can’t.” you tell him, quivering at the sudden sensation. it certainly didn’t help with how big his nose is, he had the advantage to nudge it against your clit each lick and suck.

“i just want to taste you.” his voice vibrates against you, eliciting a strangled moan out of you. “is that okay, love?” he pulls back momentarily, mouth and nose coated in your juices as he presses a kiss to either side of your thighs.

what gets you is the fact he genuinely waits on your response. you nod feebly and he presses a kiss to your clit. “thank you.” is all he says before continuing his actions. your eyes immediately squeeze shut and you’re not sure if you’re trying to push his head or pull him closer. regardless, your back arches off the desk, pulling at his hair as he holds you down to prevent any more of your squirming.

a sound of absolute satisfaction rumbles in his chest and higuruma loses himself in your taste. he’s quite filthy really. you would’ve never expected him to be the type of man that relentlessly switches between licking, spitting, and sucking the way he does. a small pool of liquid has likely formed under you by now.

“r-romi, m’ gonna cum.” he hears, feeling the way you buck up against his mouth and quite literally has to force himself off you at the announcement. he seethes in a breath, huffing and puffing, licking around his mouth.

higuruma stands straight again, unbuckling his belt, letting out a soft breath as he no longer feels constricted. your eyes fall when he drops his pants and briefs. shit. i mean, you figured he was big but not that fucking big.

you yelp as he pulls you to the edge of the table, slapping his thick cock against your drooling hole that pulses around nothing.

“can i?” he collects your mess between his fingers, spreading your folds and gliding his shaft between them.

you nod but higuruma shakes his head then grips your neck to pull you up. “tell me, sweetheart. can i?”

“p-please.” you look up at him, all doe eyed and desperate. his hand squeezes your neck and keeps you looking at him as he uses his other hand to pull you closer, prodding in just the tip then slowly pushes himself into your warm, gushing cunt. your mouth slacks open at the stretch, gasping for air as higuruma squeezes tighter from the way you sporadically clench around his length.

he’s only halfway in and it’s taking all his energy to not cum. your pussy is torturously sucking him in, so much so a quivering grunt echoes from his chest. he pats your thigh in response. “ease up, it’s just me, darling.” he tells you, and you want to laugh at how serious he’s being. ease up? not fucking possible when at least eight inches length and formidable girth was pushing itself into you.

once he’s finally filled to the hilt. your legs cross around his hips, grasping his wrist, preventing him from squeezing too tight on your throat. “you’re always such a good girl… so smart and beautiful.” he praises, leaning in to peck your lips then follows with butterflies kisses along your jaw and neck then comes back up to meet your lips again. your mouths twist slower, fiery and brimmed with passion to distract you from the roll of his hips.

“so warm.” he moans against your lips, biting down and sucking on your bottom one. he finally lets go of your neck, pushing you on your back again then clasping both thighs as leverage to pummel himself deep into your pussy. he groans along to your whimpers and moans, dark eyes focused on the imprint that shows itself on your stomach with every thrust.

his light abs glisten with sweat, his brows furrowed as he zones into the way he disappears in and out of your pussy that sucks him in and coats his base white.

papers crumble beneath your fist as your moans are pulled closer together, the indication that your orgasm was fast approaching. the effect likely to be huge since you already had your first and was denied your second. hiromi grunts, fixing you into a mean semi-mating press, legs over his shoulders as his balls mercilessly slap against your skin to echo around the office space.

“gonna cum.” you quiver but higuruma smacks your clit as if that’s supposed to help.

“hold it.”

“i-i can’t.” you look at him, pouting.

his eyes snap up to meet yours and he smacks you again. “hold it.”

he somehow moves faster and harder, harshly breathing with sweat beading down his temple. after a minute, you’re completely spent, eyes watering as you shake your head. “romi, please. i can’t hold it.”

“shhh.” he huffs, pressing his palm over your mouth, viciously chasing the high of his orgasm. he rolls his eyes shut, sticking two fingers into your mouth. “go. hurry up and cum.”

it’s only a few seconds after his command that your waves come crashing down, body yearning to close upon itself due to the overstimulation but higuruma keeps you spread open, still thrusting for what feels like over a minute.

he pulls out, a hand immediately coming to pump at his length, the other angling your body just right so when he forces your mouth open, hot spurts of his cum land on your breasts, chin, and tongue.

hiromi takes a breath that sounds like he’s inhaling fresh air, squeezing at his tip to extract every ounce of his fill. he takes a good and long look at your weak body, collecting his remains that landed on you to push back into your mouth.

“so beautiful…” he cups your cheek, holding you upright since you clearly can’t. “you alright? did i hurt you?”

“no… i’m okay.” you mumble, staring up at him as if he held up the moon and stars. “was i?… okay?”

“absolutely, love.” his brows furrow, gently caressing your skin as he looks at you. “more than okay. perfect.”

you smile shyly at that and he has a similar question on his mind as he helps in cleaning you up. “are we okay?”

“am i okay for you?”

hiromi has begun to understand your naturally shy and timid nature but it also crossed his mind that your sense of overthinking would come into play with your age gap.

it wasn’t drastic of course but he would never want to put you in a position that made you seemingly uncomfortable.

you nod with a small smile, gripping his bicep and pulling him in to press a gentle kiss to his lips. “more than okay… perfect.”

© teefushi × do not copy, translate, modify or repost any of my work on any platform, or claim it as your own.

[anglaised]

[wildflower-otome]

[Translation] Cupid Parasite -Sweet & Spicy Darling- ~ Ryuki F Keisaiin After Story

Source: S&S Wedding Note - His and my Wedding Note (Otomate Sweet Box Bonus Booklet)

Dyeing you completely in my colours - Ryuki F Keisaiin Sweet & Spicy End After Story

Some months had gone by since Lynette and I had gotten married.

That day, I was perusing some fashion magazines for research purposes as I did some stretches.

Amongst the photos of newly released products from famous brands that were printed in them, one of them caught my eye. The new scarf was striking even there on the magazine page.

(Hm..... That scarf’s pretty well done.....)

Both in shape, and in the way the colours were utilized. It was an exceptionally well-made scarf, that increased the facial score of the model who wore it. Truth be told, I had no choice but to accept that it was a design that I never could have made.

(It’s frustrating.....)

I would never have been able to come up with a design like that myself.

Still, it felt mortifying to accept defeat. Which was why, without subconsciously thinking about it, I opened my design notebook.

I wonder what kind of design I could make, to be able to win out against that scarf. I set to making designs with thoughts of wanting to win in my mind. As my pen flew across the page, I wrote down countless ideas.

Nonetheless, no matter how many I drew, I wasn’t satisfied with any of them.

I couldn’t win against that design. I couldn’t create something better.

Just as I was absorbed in designing, wanting to surpass it even so- At the sound of the entrance door opening, Kagura, who had been sprawled out on the porch lifted her head. She had returned.

‘I’m back!’

‘Welcome home, Lynette-’

Putting down my pen and turning around, I froze.

Because she was wearing the exact same scarf that had been in the magazine.

‘.....What’s with the scarf?’

‘Claris and I bought matching ones today. Actually, this brand is one of Claris’s favourites-’

Lynette chattered about what she had gotten up to that day. But I ended up not hearing what she said after about halfway through.

Now that I think about it, she had mentioned something about going out somewhere with her best friend Claris today. I remember she had also said she was going to give her the souvenirs she had bought for her from our honeymoon trip.

All the same, I hadn’t thought she would buy that scarf.

It wasn’t a brand she normally purchased so it had taken me by surprise. I’d never thought there was a possibility that she would wear it.

(Why her of all people?)

I had only just been full of jealousy that I couldn’t design something better.

And yet, why?

If only I had made a scarf under my “KEISAI:IN+Finn” brand first.

If I had made a well-designed scarf first, I wouldn’t have to feel this way. But even if I were to think about it now, it was already too late. There was no turning back time.  Imagining “what if” situations was a waste of time. Still, I couldn’t help but think. Why was the scarf she was wearing not one that I had made—.

‘.....Ryuki?’

Sensing there was something wrong from my silence, she peered at my face.

And in the moment that scarf came into view, I spoke faster than I could think.

‘Why did you buy that scarf? That colour doesn’t suit you at all—’

The second I said it, I regretted it.

But there was no erasing the words that had just come out of my mouth. I couldn’t make what I’d said as if it never happened.

‘I-I see.....You’re- probably right.’

Lynette didn’t get angry or disagree with me. Accepting my words head on, she laughed awkwardly, looking dismayed. It was clear that I had hurt her feelings.

‘Well, I’ll go change then.’

‘Wai-.....’

Before I could say that I took it back, she went into her room. A feeling of guilt welled up in me seeing her walk away looking so forlorn.

That hadn’t been what I wanted to say.

Even though what I’d really wanted to say wasn’t, “It doesn’t suit you” but “I want you to wear a scarf I designed, not something somebody else made”, I’d ended up expressing it in the worse way possible.

And then, I had hurt her.

(What the hell am I doing.....)

Criticizing someone else’s design out of jealousy, how petty could I be?

To begin with, a scarf that I had designed didn’t yet exist anywhere in this world. There were limits to how selfish one could be, wanting her not to buy anything else so that she would choose something that I didn’t have.

I had to apologise. That was what I thought, but I couldn’t quite summon the courage to bring it up.

Her feelings of hurt might not disappear so easily.

If I explained why, she might despise me as a narrow-minded man.

I was afraid of her hating me, but I was even more afraid of leaving her still feeling hurt. I couldn’t forgive myself for hurting her. I hated myself for being this way.

Which was why even though I wanted to say I was sorry, I wasn’t sure how, and I continued to search for the right words.

In the end, I was finally able to apologise to her just before we were about to sleep.

‘Hey, Lynette. There’s, something I want to talk to you about.....’

I sat down next to her on the bed. And then, I bowed my head deeply.

‘About before.....I’m really sorry.’

Her face looked surprised at hearing me cut straight to an apology without any opening remarks.

‘What’s this all of a sudden?’

‘That is..... .....The truth is, that scarf, actually does suit you. But.....I want to be the one to make all your clothes.....’

And so, I had something horrible to her out of jealousy. As I explained, she looked more and more surprised.

‘Is that so.....?’

‘Yeah. I’m sorry..... That scarf was just so well designed.....I was frustrated. .....And jealous.’

As I continued to speak, I felt pathetic. Thinking again of how ashamed I was that I’d said something so childish because I’d been jealous, I could no longer look her in the face. Nonetheless, this was far preferable than her continuing on feeling hurt.

‘So, I’m really sorry. It did look good on you. .....It looked good on you, and that’s why I ended up saying what I did.....’

Wondering if she could forgive me after behaving so badly, I timidly looked up.

And when I did, I met her kind-looking gaze.

‘Hehe, I see. So that’s what it was. .....Thank you, Ryuki. For talking to me about it.’

She was smiling at me just like she always did.

She was smiling—The moment I realized that, the anxiety I’d been feeling eased, and my vision started to blur over.

‘Ryuki.....?’

I started and came back to myself at hearing her voice sound so surprised. But it was already too late, and tears started to drip down my cheeks.

‘No, that’s not it. This is-.....’

I wasn’t crying. Or so I wanted to say, but the tears came despite myself. Feeling the warm sensation trickling down my cheeks, I became flustered and confused, and turned my head away.

I was acting like a child. Being so relieved that she had been able to forgive me, and then crying like this.

Still, that was just how afraid I’d been. Of the fact that she might have ended up hating me. That I had hurt her feelings.

Which was why I was so happy that she had smiled that I couldn’t stop the tears.

‘I’m sorry.....I hate myself for saying something so awful to you....I’m so pathetic.....I.....didn’t mean to hurt you.....so why did I, say something like that to you-’

My thoughts still jumbled; I told her how I felt. And she took all of it in, without reproaching me. 

‘I see. .....That makes me happy. That you care so much about me.’

‘.....Huh.....?’

Seeing me look so surprised, she looked at me with reddened cheeks.

‘It means that you love me so much you don’t want me to wear clothes that you didn’t design, right?’

‘That’s-.....true, but-’

As I thought to myself that normally one would call such a thing being small-minded, she smiled, looking bashful. And then she laid her hand on top of mine, resting her head on my shoulder.

‘Knowing that you love me so much to get jealous over even who designed my clothes, I’m.....really happy.’

Hearing her speak so fondly, I could no longer hold back. Wiping away my tears, I embraced her.

My chest tightened with affection as I held her small body in my arms.

‘.....There’s nothing more important to me than you. Of course I would be.’

Brushing back her hair with my fingertips, I kissed her forehead.

‘Your clothes. Your skincare, haircare.....I want to be the one to do all of it.’

The beauty serums, makeup tools, shampoo and hair treatments she used were all things that I had prepared for her. But even then, it wasn’t enough. As I gently pulled back from her and looked into her face, she nodded while looking embarrassed.

‘Sure. .....Would you-?’

I could sense from the mood that it wasn’t just skincare that she meant.

To show that we’ve made up—let’s do it. I felt like that was what her gaze was saying. Which was why I nervously touched her cheek and kissed her tentatively.

She closed her eyes, accepting my kiss. Feeling her sigh hot against my lips, I was a little more bold with the next one.

Although we were now married, it wasn’t as if we did it every night. It was the reason why I couldn’t help feeling nervous in moments like these. Hoping that I wouldn’t make a mistake, that she wouldn’t end up hating me, my head became a whirlpool full of different emotions.

Most likely, having seen right through me, she would often give me easily understood signs like just now. It didn’t take long for us to move on from just kissing.

As our tongues intertwined, I put my hand to her nightwear.

It was a high-quality item that I had prepared for her so that she could sleep comfortably. Once I took it off, I would be able to see her body in its night lingerie. And those too, were things that I had picked out for her.

So that she could spend each day feeling comfortable. Having taken the measurements together, I had asked her what she would like and bought them.

Still—if possible, I didn’t want to buy her clothes, I wanted to make them myself.

This was most likely an over-particularness of mine as a designer.

Because she was the person I loved. I was jealous of all the designs that covered her body.

So we stripped off all the designs and put them aside. Because once we were naked, we became like figures, bodies that were awaiting designs.

Wanting to make her feel good, I touched her gently. 

I wanted to be extremely thorough, to make up for how I had hurt her earlier. I wanted to wipe all the sadness from her face.

Perhaps because I took my time in touching her, not letting up for a moment, I could tell that she was gradually losing her cool more and more, becoming increasingly disheveled.

Raising her voice, she shook her head from side to side, tears in her eyes.

‘Ryuki, please…..’

Quickly, she urged. It was the first time I’d ever heard her sound like that, and I could hear my heart beat noticeably louder. Feeling hot until the ends of my ears, I did as she asked.

As we pressed closely together, I felt her body jolt, reacting more intensely than usual. Her fingernails as they dug into my back caused a stinging pain. Her actions only stirred me up further, and my head went pure white.

Like a stewed apple, my gloomy feelings were dissolving and melting away. At this point I most likely no longer needed to hold back.

No longer hesitant, I followed my desires. Almost as if she had been waiting for just that, she gripped onto the sheets. Losing ourselves in kissing, we ascended together.

There was a feeling of relief at our hearts being able to become one. The loneliness of when we had been at odds burst like a bubble.

Now there was no longer any anxiety or pain.

That day, for the very first time, I pursued her again and again. Normally I would have prioritised sleep since it was better for beauty, but I ended up thinking to myself that I didn’t want to let go of the moment.

Breaking the 10th commandment of the Keisaiin family, I became a mere man. Once the storm inside our bodies had finally abated after a countless number of rounds, we dozed off, our arms around one another.

Absentmindedly, I traced her shoulder with my finger as it moved up and down in time with her breathing.

‘Heheh- …..That tickles.’

Looking happy, she twisted around. On her neck were marks that I had left.

I wondered what she would wear to hide them. Perhaps a turtleneck, or even that scarf. As I imagined it, sure enough, I again felt another wave of jealousy.

I wanted to design all the clothes she wore. Which was why I kissed a spot that not even a scarf could hide. Sucking hard and leaving behind a mark, I caressed it with my fingertips.

‘Listen. Would you help me with my designs tomorrow? I want to design a scarf that will suit you.’

‘.....You’ll make one for me?’

Her voice sounded pleased. Hearing her speak so happily made me feel happy too, and I nodded.

‘Yeah, of course. …..No, not just a scarf. Your clothes, underwear, I’ll make everything.’

So, don’t wear clothes that I didn’t make. Swallowing just those words, I kissed her. Perhaps having sensed things were about to start again, she gave a small gasp.

Swallowing down even that small sound, I trapped her between my arms.

I’d had no idea that such possessiveness existed inside of me. However, I could not stop myself from wishing. I wanted to have her all to myself.

Lynette was the first person I had ever loved, and the first person I had dated. And now she was the beloved wife I had married.

I want to dye all of her in my colours. While making my secret wish, I deepened the kiss.

[going2hell4everythingbutbeingbi]

things to say after fucking up egregiously

pack it up boys we've made a social blunder

let's run that again

one more time normal style

I'm going to become a statistic

further proof god is out to get me

it's because I tore my acl senior year

I couldn't do it for religious reasons

my ex took my talent in the divorce

good thing nobody saw that (said directly to someone who definitely saw it)

[silvergifs]

[tonycries]

Homewrecker - T.F.

Synopsis. Six months since you’ve broken up with Toji Zenin - hotshot center for the men’s national team, perhaps the most feared man in ice hockey - and you’ve moved on…somewhat. Six months since you’ve broken up with him, and listen- Toji doesn’t mean to be a homewrecker, but he’d totally still wreck that p—ahem. Now if only he could get that two-timing boyfriend of yours out of the way…

Pairing. Toji Fushiguro x Reader

Content. MDNI, fem!reader, ice hockey player!Toji, ex-boyfriend!Toji, Winter Olympics AU, exes to Iovers, second chances, ice hockey finals, ice hockey games, jerseys, Naoya cameo, channeling my Naoya hate tbh, fights, sIight vioIence, Toji being in his feels, yearning, pússydrúnk Toji, oraI (fem rec.), p talking, p sIapping, P WORSHIP, he’s GONE, he’s better than HIM and he proves it, fíngering, spítting, overstím, manhandIing, doggy, Iocker room s, he’s big, making it fit, ‘teaching’ your p, cervíx smooches, multiple o’s, he’s JEALOUS, desperate s, rough s, slight marathon, sIight exhíbitíonism, needy Toji, FÉRAL Toji, creampíes, cúmpIay, proposals, sIight bréeding, happy ending, Shiu cameo heheh, pet names, swéaring.

Word count. 12.1k

A/N. SURPRISE!! Hiiiiiiiiighly request hehehe- inspired by this scrumptious Tiktok by the lovely @/bellursjournal <33

234 fights.

234 won.

Ice hockey wasn’t just about the hard-hitting, fast-paced, ice-cold adrenaline that coursed through each and every single player there—outreaching like a gale towards the rows of audiences that jumped up in elation. Shivering at the impact of every skate, glide, and punch.

No, ice hockey was also about bringing people together.

And as corny as it may sound, it was part of why Toji loved these games so much. As one, he made them stand. He made them shout. He fired them up until they became immune to the frigidness of Milano Santagiulia Ice Hockey Arena.

So it wasn’t exactly out-of-the-ordinary to see a fight start up during one of these games - between players (him especially) and between fans.

What was slightly unusual was to see a fight occur between a player and a fan. Which is exactly what he was watching happen right now.

And even more unusual was just who it was.

You—arguing with some brute he assumed to be your boyfriend.

Tch…Toji’s scarred lips curl without him even realizing it. He’d noticed you the second you stepped into the rink - he always did. The second you’d stepped into his life, the second you’d stepped out of it. It was like this undeniable tug at the pit of his stomach, this rush of victory, this sudden warmth that he couldn’t explain - and couldn’t quite imitate no matter how many layers he wore.

Not that he would reminisce, of course. 

You’d met at one of his games—and to this day, no matter how many other matches he played in, he still considers that one of his best. It was in the feeling that you gave him - that game felt different. It was.

His eyes kept drifting to where you sat behind the plexiglass, and his skates have never glided smoother across the ice. It was a win for the records. After the game, Toji himself had been mulling over whether or not he should approach that pretty university student that had been shouting his name throughout the entire game- when you yourself had shyly walked up to him in the fan-signing section.

Steps tentative, a book crushed to your chest.

You’d asked him for an autograph in that sweet voice—and he’d scribbled his number out then and there. Media training be damned.

And when he’d asked you who your favorite player was- lo and behold, you’d replied that it was…Shiu Kong. He doesn’t think he’s laughed louder in his life.

That was also the game that got him on the radars of national team scouts.

You’d dated for a year. Almost exactly.

And to be transparent, it’s already been six months since the two of you broke up. Over some…honestly, he doesn’t even remember properly. He knew it had to do with his updated training regiment and the way he’d been pushing himself during the Olympics drafting season - and because of it, Toji knew he fucked up. He knew he missed dates, missed quality time, missed milestones. Barely came home from the rink.

You didn’t even care about that, he thinks. You wanted him to pace himself and take some breaks, he thought that sounded like a nightmare. Eventually, the last straw had been when he’d missed your one-year anniversary, and it’d accumulated into an explosive argument- that, he could remember.

He’s gotten better since then, he thinks.

But Toji was just about as over it as any man would be over the love of his life- fuck, did he really get his cringe after the break-up? That probably wasn’t good for his health. But it’s just that…he hasn’t felt that particular rush of victory ever since you left.

Not even when he was chosen for the official Japanese ice hockey team, not even when they landed in Milan, not even when they progressed to the finals.

But today…

The fucking finals of the Olympics and he was sitting on the players’ bench before the game, scouring the stands for but a glimpse of you. The fuck have you done to him? 

He could feel that surge of warmth, however. As though every fibre of his body had long since attuned to you, wasn’t whole without y- fuck off. The point was that you were somewhere here.

And Toji was reminded of those days you’d be sitting in the very first row of his games- front and center, waving a banner with his number, wearing one of his red jerseys. ZENIN—it would say on the back. Not one from the merchandise store, of course, though those sold out so fast that even Toji himself wouldn’t be able to get his hands on one.

So his eyes slid along the first rows of fans. The turnout was incredible.

Japan vs. the US. 

And Toji could guise his sudden alertness towards the audience as checking for any distractions in the stands - he didn’t want to be off his game during the fucking finals, now, did he? Especially not considering that their newest recruited defense player was…

But he knew that was bullshit.

Nothing ever threw Toji Zenin off his game.

And yet…and yet once he spotted you - seated amongst a clump of blue-wearing supporters on the other side of the rink, right opposite where he sat on the players’ benches - he couldn’t help the sudden jitter that ran through his body. Honestly, he thinks he might just break that streak of (substantiated) overconfidence before a match-

Fuck, how beautiful you were. 

Just as beautiful as the day he lost you, it makes everything almost move in slow-motion. If this were a movie - and it somewhat feels like one right about now - then the music would swell, and Toji’s eyes would turn to hearts, and perhaps there’d be a dance number or two and then a montage of-

Bullshit, bullshit! Toji Zenin wasn’t thrown off his game.

Toji Zenin was unaffected by your presence- and the fact that you were wearing a jersey clearly representing the other team. He didn’t fucking care.

He didn’t. Not even about the fact that you were currently in the middle of a very heated argument with one of the US players. Blond hair. Black tips. Shorter than him. Not even by how close you leaned into him. And Toji doesn’t bother to wipe the scowl off of his face as he perks his ears in your direction - one could never be too sure whether you were trading secrets with this e-boy blue-team boyfriend of yours.

You would never, to be clear, but just- just let him fucking evesdrop-

“—can’t believe you would do this to me.” Your voice carries, and the little tremor in your tone makes his eyes widen.

Sure enough, he could see the glimmer of tears in your eyes.

You’re rising up from your seat slightly, and it draws the attention of fans around you. Seething, “I can’t believe you would-”

“Shhhhhhhh—” The man has the audacity to bring a finger to his lips and shush, likely louder than you were being in your controlled tone. Trembling, but controlled. His half-blond bangs sway just a little as he looks towards his own team and coaches, then back towards you. “You’re being crazy right now.”

“I’m being crazy?” Laughing in disbelief. Holding up a phone that seemed to be the other man’s, presumably given to you for safe-keeping during the match. “I’ve seen the messages, and you say I’m being crazy-”

“You are. You’re acting hysterical and I need you to calm down.” Toji couldn’t see the man’s ugly face, as he had his back turned towards the benches. But he could see every bit of how this particular sentence made your expression crumple- “Look I don’t know what you think you saw on those texts, but it isn’t what you think it is. It’s locker talk- I went out with the other players, got some drinks, met some fans and…nothing happened with any-”

“You’re cheating on me-”

“You’re paranoid.”

Your eyes flash, “But-”

“You know I always hate to talk to you like this, baby. I really do.” He reaches up and puts a pale hand on the plexiglass, “But you’re just being paranoid. And I don’t want to call you insecure, but-”

“Don’t you dare—” You’re standing up now.

“See? This is exactly what I mean.” From the ruffling of his uniform, Toji could tell he was crossing his arms. Oh, how he wished this son of an asshole would turn around right now- just turn around and let him get a good look at what gave him the right. His cruel lips curl just a little bit in a way that just looked so familiar. It makes his blood boil. “You’re being crazy.”

And Toji sees the exact moment you furl in on yourself. “But…” It makes his fists clench.

Before he knows it, he’s gritting his teeth so hard he tastes metal.

“I’m a hockey player, baby, I’ve gotta network.” With such a tone of finality, he ends off—“Stop being so hysterical, and maybe we can have a civil conversation after.” The man kicks his blades into the ice and starts to push off, “Cheer for me loud during the game. My teammates are going to be watching.”

You don’t say a thing.

But he does, “You’re lucky you’re dating me, y’know?”

And that’s when Toji’s eyes finally fall to the text upon the man’s uniform.

ZENIN.

He knows who it is even before he turns—and Toji falters. Not out of reconsideration, or anxiety, or fear - but out of the sheer surprise that ah, this was going to be convenient.

Because Toji Zenin knew the bastard - more than he would have liked to.

Naoya Zenin was a part of his past whether he wanted to or not. He was the snot-nosed, bratty second heir to Zenin Industries that would hide behind corners and snicker to himself whenever Toji got caught sneaking out to the arena again. Whenever he was told off for going against Zenin family values - against his duty to become the head of their sport equipment business - by whichever higher-up happened to be feigning for a stress outlet that day.

Short and sweet, Toji Zenin wasn’t supposed to become an ice hockey player—let alone the fucking best in the country. But he digresses.

And how fucking hilarious was it that the (second) heir to a family so vehemently against Toji becoming an ice hockey player…also became an ice hockey player? He had an inkling this would happen - when Naoya’s mean-spirited amusement turned into surveillance attempting to catch him sneaking out of the estate, turned into watching him play at the local arena. Turned into awe.

He knew the boy was stunned ever since the first time he watched Toji play. And he never laughed when Toji was caught after that day.

But it seems that that still hadn’t stopped the kid from growing up into a fucking asshole like the rest of them.

He was damn glad he’d escaped from that household the very second he’d gotten an offer from a local team, the Tokyo Ice Bucks. Though a morbid part of him wished he’d stayed just long enough to be there for when Naoya announced that he, too, wanted to become just like their disgraced once-heir. How he wished he could’ve seen the reactions of his high-strung relatives, his uptight family friends, his parents, his council—though, seemingly it hadn’t worked out too bad for Naoya.

As he climbed up the ranks, he’d heard through the grapevine that his cousin had been sent to some of the most expensive training centers in the world. Ultimately getting signed onto a team in the US (though the hefty sum his family had paid likely helped, but those were just rumors of sports business…). He also knew that the other man had gotten naturalized recently, getting chosen for the Olympics team. He knew it all.

Toji just didn’t know that Naoya would also be your fucking boyfriend.

“Major scene, eh?” Kusakabe clatters himself down on the bench, slightly winded after a practice run. He fixes the laces on his ice skates, “I saw your ex-girlfriend there, she’s gotten even more beautiful. She seemed to be arguing with-”

“Mhm.” Replying absent-mindedly, Toji stands.

“Something about cheating- what a fucking bastard. Doesn’t deserve her, but then again neither did you.”

“I know.”

And Kusakabe frowns, “Does she know that she’s dating your weirdo estranged cousin?”

“No fuckin’ clue.”

“Oi…” Comes the slightly wary tone at Toji’s swift, dismissive responses—Kusakabe looks up at his teammate. “Don’t do something stupid.”

But Toji doesn’t answer, too fixated on watching the remains of your argument with Naoya: you sitting down weakly in your chair, looking around to make sure no one notices as you wipe away the tears in your ears before they overspill. He sees red.

He shoots up to a stand.

“Oi-” Kusakabe’s more panicked tone echoes across the ice- did Toji already get inside the rink? He was skating on the ice before he even registered it. “Oi, fuck-face. Asshat. Toji—”

But Toji’s eyes were set on one thing, his ears were listening for the commentator announcing the imminent start of the game.

“Toji, don’t do something stupid-”

And maybe he was stupid. Because it wasn’t for nothing that Toji Zenin was named the most feared man on the ice by The Hockey News just this year. He stood big. He stood tall. He stood unafraid to fight his entire childhood, so why should he be afraid to fight on the ice?

234 fights since the start of his ice hockey career.

234 fights won.

And right now the man wasn’t afraid to get blood on his hands, even if it suspended him.

Their coach barks at the rest of the Japanese team to get into position, and it’s a blur as he bends low at the faceoff spot, awaiting the referee to release the puck. Toji Zenin: captain of the Japanese Ice Hockey team.

His eyes shift past the US captain before him—to where Naoya Zenin was lined up as well. And he can see the precise, exact moment that the other man registers- and a shiver courses down his spine.

The puck drops.

It goes to the Japanese team.

Toji swoops the puck using the blade and attacks between the forwards- pitiful, honestly. He could almost let out a slight burst of laughter as he senses the dumbfounded looks on their faces—and yet, he doesn’t spare them a single glance backwards as he races between members of the other team. Past center. Past forward.

 A right-winger attempts to steal the puck. He’s ignoring Kusakabe’s call to pass and toe-dragging around his bland-faced opponent to skate right past. Right winger. Left winger. 

The forward surpassed yet again.

At the speed of light, screaming audience members meld into one.

All but you.

You—you’re all that’s on his mind as Toji makes it unscathed up to the defense- past left defense. 

Until he’s left facing the very man he hasn’t seen in ten years. Eyes like his, though they were dark and widened in fear - somewhere in the far distance of the stadium, Toji hears one of the commentators make a remark about their relation. He doesn’t listen.

He feints the puck slipping out from the leash of his hockey stick for a split-second—just long enough for excitement to flicker in Naoya’s eyes and for his own hand jerk to claim it. Only to smile- hah, you fucking thought.

And Toji’s slamming at the back of the puck - straight into the net of the goal.

Bursts of cheers and commentary as the Japanese men’s ice hockey team scores the first goal of the Olympic finals. Fans getting up onto their feet. Hands high in the air.

But Toji’s own curls into a fist that meets Naoya Zenin’s jaw.

The sickening sound of bone crushing against flesh, knuckles - it’s never sounded sweeter in Toji’s ears. The baffled man is on the floor before he can even register what happened. Thud! There’s a gasp that echoes throughout the stadium, before the two-toned man haplessly attempts to get up and get at least one hit in for his own dignity—but it’s too late, he raises a feeble hand but it falls. Meanwhile Toji pummels punch after punch.

Hard enough that it makes the ice floor shudder.

Long enough that the referee glides over and their team starts surrounding them.

Naoya’s now spread-eagle on the floor and sobbing for mercy, which Toji genuinely didn’t hear - he genuinely didn’t. Couldn’t. His ears were ringing and his eyes were seeing red- no, they were seeing that vision of you wiping away your tears.

His prominent knuckles met the swoops and structure of Naoya’s face, features that he can’t deny make him wonder…did you see Toji in him? The proud slash of his mouth. The high cheekbones of the Zenins.

It made something twist within him to think that not only might you have seen Toji in him- but then he would’ve betrayed you as such. As if Toji ever would.

Naoya made you cry.

He couldn’t beat this fucker harder.

It takes four of his own teammates to pull him off.

And by then, even the commentators had stopped speaking, the audience watching in a mix of interest and horror. Their hands on their mouths. Toji staggers onto his feet and yet his hands were still clenched - still twitching as though he was in the middle of the fight.

Kusakabe’s nails dig into his skin even through those thick uniforms, and he’s muttering something in his ear about the referee and a five-minute timeout. But Toji doesn’t care.

Toji isn’t looking at the referee, or the coach, or any of his teammates.

He turns his head over his shoulder to look at you—

You with your mouth agape, your eyes fixated reciprocatively on him, your blue jersey taken off to reveal your normal clothes underneath. There was a slight tremor in your body as you take in your ex-boyfriend, Toji. 

Victorious from beating up your cheating boyfriend. 

And the black-haired man can only smirk.

He tastes iron, and it’s only then that he realizes he had a nosebleed. Dripping from his left nostril and down across his lips, his garish grin; not from a single thing Naoya did, of course - that fucker hadn’t even gotten a single hit in…Toji was almost reconsidering whether the bastard was a Zenin at all - but perhaps from his teammates fighting against his fighting, perhaps from his sheer anger, perhaps just from looking at you for the first time in six months.

Even from here, he could see the slightest snippet of your bra strap peeking out from underneath your t-shirt.

It was the Japanese national ice hockey team red.

Or more like, Toji Zenin red.

He smirks even wider.

.

.

.

Needless to say, Naoya Zenin was carried out of the game in a stretcher.

Toji didn’t feel any regret about it - not even a single speck. His penalties still applied as well- for about five minutes before he was back to kicking ass in the finals. Metaphorically, this time. 

He was about to show them why exactly he’d become the captain of the national team in such a short time.

And he could take on whatever shit they were commenting about a ‘family feud’ and a ‘beau stuck in the middle’ (who the hell even told them that? He was sure it must’ve been that loudmouth Kusakabe) if only…every time he circled the perimeter of the rink, he could see that smile of yours through the plexiglass screen. No banner with his name, but still cheering him on in a sea of blue.

Also needless to say—Japan won gold at this year’s Olympics for men’s ice hockey. 

The celebrations were overpouring - streamers, confetti, fans attempting to jump their way into the rink. This was about tenfold the intensity of celebrating any local game they’d won, and yet…his eyes were anywhere but on the commentators, the audience, the teammates that were huddling around him. 

Toji was turning his dazed head left and right- only attempting to find you.

“We won—” Kusakabe yelled out at him, giving him a hefty thump on the back and pulling the man into his embrace. “We fucking won, you asshat-”

“We did.” Toji’s lips felt parched. He couldn’t see a single sign of you through the chaos. “I think.”

They - meaning the rest of the team, with their captain tacked-on and looking slightly astray ever since he lost sight of you - celebrated for the pictures, for the podium. They celebrated on the ice and off it.

Eventually, the celebrations extended past the rink and towards their locker rooms. It was a sprawling room that’d been especially constructed; white walls and wood-panelled furnishings, even whiter ceilings that gloried down even more spotless racks for each, swathing the end of the room in a semi-circular fashion. It was where they kept their helmets and their jackets, took them off like armor after such a win. Towards the other end of the chamber were the stalls where they showered, large enough to house a small group in each of them, with benches of clean wood.

The tile beneath was colorless except for five familiar rings intertwined, spreading their wings from one end of the locker room where the showers were—and down to the benches where the celebration had bled out. 

The players had long since filtered out to celebrate with food and family, except for one particular captain of which he had no family visiting. But also because he was getting his final warnings on pulling such a stunt like that…

“—I have no idea what-” Coach Shiu Kong peers through his stern eyebrows at the man seated on the bench, his head bowed low. “-or who triggered you to start enforcing like that, but know that you are walking on very thin ice.”

If Toji hears the other man - his best friend - then he doesn’t show any sign of it.

“Their defender practically needed to be hospitalized.” Shiu sighs, “I don’t give a shit if you beat the boy up, but keep it within guidelines. I overheard some of the officials discussing whether we should’ve given you a much tougher penalty.”

At that, Toji flinches.

“A much tougher penalty.”

Being a player himself not too long ago, however, Shiu could understand the other man somewhat. And he knows the captain would do it all again. 

Gladly.

Toji remains silent, and Shiu pinches the bridge of his nose. “Look- you’re lucky you got off with a five-minute penalty this time. Insanely lucky. Next time you’re not gonna be so lucky, so I suggest you keep your fists to yourself.” 

“Tch…” Their star player wrinkles his nose and looks away.

To which Shiu claps him on the shoulder, “Look, you did good out there.” Looking closely at the other man, “And I know the girl- I’ve seen her around practice when you used to bring her, before she stopped coming around. Gorgeous. But keep your head on straight.”

One final clap. “You did good.”

Before he, too, leaves.

The locker doors swing behind him. And then there was one.

As the celebrations raged on outside, Toji doesn’t know how long he spends sitting on that bench - thinking to himself. About what? Everything and anything. He couldn’t quite pinpoint one thought before it flowed into the next one, and even then just as he’d register it—suddenly it was speeding into the next. Aqueous. 

But one thing was for sure, they were all about you.

You.

You.

You.

Knock-knock-knock.

Who the hell knocks on locker room doors?

Slightly bemused and perhaps wondering whether this was a paparazzi hoping for a good shot, Toji leans back in his seat and lets the knock reverberate. He doesn’t answer before the doors are clicking open, and a set of footsteps ring across the vast, dampened chamber - a set of footsteps that he’s memorized far better than his own heartbeat.

It was you.

This realization doesn’t damper his shock a single bit as your head peeks ‘round the tiled corner. Breathing out an exhale of relief as you realize that he’s the only one there, you’re revealing yourself properly in his line of vision now.

“Oh, good.” And your voice- fuck, even your voice doesn’t feel real. It echoes slightly in the space, and makes you sound even more dream-like in Toji’s ears. “I didn’t feel like walking in here and seeing an eyeful of ice hockey dick.”

“Think about ice hockey dick a lot?” They’re the first words out of Toji’s mouth to you in six months, and suddenly he feels like banging his head against a wall. 

“You mean Naoya?” Your nose crinkles in distaste, and he feels like spitting. “Hell no—” He feels like laughing. “I told him we’re breaking up the second he got put on that stretcher.”

He startles himself with a guffaw, “As the bastard was being carried off?”

“As the bastard was being carried off.” You’re nodding, before awkwardly shifting on your feet. “I’m sorry.”

One of his brows raise, “For what?”

“I didn’t know he was your cousin. I just thought the last name was a coinci-”

“Nah- forget about it.” Waving off one hand - roughened with so many years of training, of holding a hockey stick as though a lifeline - in your direction. “No harm done, girlie. Guess that jus’ means you have a type- though obviously…” Toji stabs a finger in his direction, “-I’m the handsome one of the family.”

“As humble as ever, I see.” You tease.

“Always.” He shrugs in a nonchalant attempt, though his green eyes kept straying to you. “You look good.”

You’re meeting his eyes slowly. “You look good, too.”

And whatever he sees in your expression makes him gulp. “Fuck-” He whispers underneath his breath, reaching up and rubbing the burning back of his head. “Now, not that I mind ya being in the men’s locker room but…”

“O-oh.” You jump slightly, as though just now reminded of your objective. “I wanted to thank you.”

He’s taken aback. “Huh?”

“For…well not that I condone violence buuuut—” Averting your gaze from his, “I wanted to- thank you.”

“Y-yeah.” Breathless, “No harm done. The fucker didn’t deserve you anyway.”

“Oh yeah?” There’s a slightly challenging look in your eyes now, “I wonder who did.”

Toji Zenin then stands from his seat, and you’re taking a half-step back as if you’d forgotten just how much the athlete towered. His shoulders had gotten broader since the last time you saw him, fitting out the shape of his brand-new uniform snugly. His biceps bulkier. His hips more defined. His face more ruggedly handsome. His sage eyes sharper—and currently locked in on you…

“To be quite honest…” Toji starts, a slightly husky timbre to his tone, “I don’t think anyone did.”

You jut your chin up in defiance, “I disagree.”

“Clearly the current dating pool isn’t good enough if you ended up dating fucking Naoya of all people.” And was that a silent seething you could hear in his tone? “Never would I blame you for what he did, girlie. Never. I’m just wondering what the hell attracted you to him in the first place.”

And your hand’s reaching up to touch him- “I have…I have no idea.”

“Because don’t you know what you deserve?” His large right hand reaches out to cup your cheek tenderly- before he’s gliding it to the back of your neck and squeezing you meanly. “Tell me.” He tightens his fist and makes you look up properly at him, “Tell me what you deserve.”

To which you’ve just finished grabbing onto his red jersey. Tugging him to you—you’re walking backwards and dragging your ex-boyfriend with you. “Someone…handsome.”

He grins, “Mhmmmm?” Fingers tap-tap-tapping the cute column of your throat. “And what else?”

“Someone big n’ strong.” Step by step, you head towards the nearest vertical surface you can remember - one of those wooden partitions that separated the shower stalls from the changing area. “Someone really good at hockey.”

“Heh-” He fails to hide the glint in his eyes, “And?”

“Someone sweet, though he pretends not to be.” Giggling at his huff, “Someone interesting. Someone that opens up. Someone that won’t give up.”

“And?”

“Someone filthy rich-”

“Heh, gold-digger.”

“Someone that can change for the better for me.”

It’s with a quiet thud—! that you’re hitting the partition now- taking Toji with you. He braces himself with a large arm pressed on the area above your head, and from here you can ogle every single muscle, vein, and twitch.

Every single scorched pant as he leans in.

Blinking up at him, your heart races at the question you were about to ask. “Someone that’ll fuck me right?”

He smirks and you swear you can feel it against your mouth. “Why the question mark, doll?”

And then his lips are on yours.

Rushing. Ravenous. Famished.

Toji massages his scarred lips against yours, smacking at the taste of that dewy cherry lipgloss you had on. And he doesn’t hesitate for a single second before letting the tip of his tastebuds draaaaaaaag right down that gloss, humming. “Missed this taste.” He trails his right hand up to rest against the edge of your chin—widening the gap between your pretty lips n’ swiping his eager tongue in. Hot and open-mouthed.

Kissing you so filthy.

Toji fucking groans something feral as his tongue slips even deeper, reclaiming those velvety spots inside you. And as he feels your mouth water, feels your hips start to squirm, the ice hockey player can’t help but chuckle. 

Lifting his left hand off of the wooden surface to run down your front, managing you away from the partition and inside the stall. You’re walking blindly backwards, being led by solely his hands - nothing inside but the showerhead above and the wide open space. Toji pushes you against the cold tile and kisses you even more fervently—“Missed how wet she’d get just from kissing me.”

Cupping your pussy through your short, short skirt.

“Is she purring already?”

You gasp, “You can’t just say that-”

“What was that?” Toji cocks his head in near-innocent confusion, “Can’t hear you over her congratulations.”

“You fucking-”

The next thing you’re seeing is enough to knock the wind out of your lungs - and the words. And it’s not because of anything Toji says, it’s not because of his expressions or his gestures, or even the way he rubs the mountains of his palm against your clothed pussy—it’s because of the way he doesn’t hesitate before letting his knees hit the tiled ground with two deep thuds.

Fucking kneeling before you.

Toji throws your non-dominant leg over his shoulder, and bores up at you with half-lidded eyes. Heavy. Darkened with arousal- he wanted you so fucking bad.

He was a man deep in thirst.

In a single motion, the hockey player flips your skirt up n’ tucks the hemline into your waistband. 

It’s almost as if he’s in a daze - as if he’s hypnotized - as he brings his face closer to your throbbing core. Where your pussy was nearly beating out of your red panties—before Toji flares his nostrils and gives that dampened spot on your panties a gooooood sniff. “Mmm, s’like coming home.” Your mouth gapes as you wonder whether he even realized what he was saying- was it possible to even act so starved? So animalistic? Open-mouthed, he breathes out a scorching hot pant that makes your legs shake. “Shit—shit, shit shit-”

“What?” You squeak out in—well, perhaps in surprise, perhaps because of the way your ex-boyfriend doesn’t waste a second more before nudgin’ your legs apart and sticking his nose right between your clothed slit. Slurp! 

And his mouth merely opens with a gasp.

With a groan.

A sudden jolt courses through the hockey captain’s muscular body. And before you know it- before Toji himself knows it, he’s clasping onto either side of your hips and draaaagging your pussy all down his face. 

All across every handsome feature of his. It doesn’t matter if you still have panties on, he’s gaping his dampened maw wide open and saaaaalivating across every nook n’ cranny he could reach. That cute crevice of your pussylips growing even wetter as you start to feel his nosebridge rub uuuup and down, uuuup and down- up and down. 

Gurgling those sweetened wads of slick at the back of his throat as he ebbs himself even closer- “Oh my god, pretty girl…” And for a second there, you think he’s talking to you—only to find Toji pulling away with a squelch! of fabric. His half-lidded eyes remain fixated between your legs, and that sinful mouth of his glistens eagerly with your juices. “Fuck, oh my god-”

“Wh-what is it?” You’re squealing out, despite fully knowing that he’s talking to your pussy by now. Just your pussy.

And Toji croons upwards, his glazed eyes flickering towards you. “Your sorry excuse of a boyfriend doesn’t eat you out, does he?”

You gape.

How the fuck did he know?

“Because she told me- duh.” Toji rolls his verdant eyes as though the answer should’ve been obvious - the answer to a question you clearly don’t remember asking. Out loud, at least.

Although…your mind isn’t clear at all.

It’s so clouded by the way he massaged the top of your folds with his tongue. Those rugged, textured tastebuds flicking aaaaaall over your outer lips, dipping into the outline created by your slit. In and out. In and out.

It’s as though he was already attempting to fuck you through your damn panties- perhaps the only thing holding him back right now. Toji taps the flattened surface of his tongue across your sopping slit once he’s completely sure he’s slurped up every ounce of you there was to slurp-

“Can you hear her?” He utters hoarsely. And he doesn’t even need to wait for your response - Toji surges in once more in a way that was almost uncontrollable—“She’s purrin’ so much- heh.”

Eyes rolling to the back of his head at the cloying, clingy taste.

You were just so weeeeeet and warm.

“She’s been so neglected. Poor pussy.”

“Oh—” Your mouth drops.

And that’s the last thing you’re managing out before Toji tucks the rounded tip of his finger beneath your ruined red panties, making it snap- once before tuggin’ them aside and spitting. Letting the vertical line of saliva lubricate you a bit more for him to swab his tongue everywhere and anywhere—“She- she hasn’t been tasted like this in aaaaages.”

“I haven’t, I haven’t-” You sob.

That pointed chin of his plasters against your cunt, nearly hitting the back. And Toji’s pushed up so deeply against your pussylips that you’re wondering whether he even has the space to breathe- crushing his face between your folds. What was that saying about big noses? “She hasn’t been tongued the way she likes it.”

Wrenching your head off of where it’d been rested against the cold tile wall. “H-huh?”

With a growl, you’re shocked as his four thick fingertips come slammin’ down on your pussy. “Pay attention, doll.” And he’s juuuuust nudging aside your sensitive folds to lap up the sap leaking between them. Feeling that cute orifice of your hole that was just clenchin’ around him, “She hasn’t been tongued the way I know she likes it. Dirty girl.”

And you’re shivering as the very first inch of his girthy muscle slips inside your entrance. “Fuh-fuuuuck-”

“She hasn’t been tasted like she deserves.” He pants out between rovering movements with his head now, baaaaaack and forth. Baaaaack and forth. Faster each time. Deeper each time. “She hasn’t been spat on. She hasn’t even been fingered-”

“Fuh-fuuuuck, ngh—yes.” You’re keening out, your voice crackling dangerously. “I mean no- no, he didn’t.”

Feeling the leer of his lips against your other ones, something almost cruel to their shape. “I know.” His severe timbre - mixed with the scrape-scrape-scrape of those textured tastebuds inside you - make you see stars. No warning—and he’s reaching up to plaster the crown of his thumb against your throbbing clit. “And I’ll fuckin’ kill him for it.”

Without thinking much of it, you’re grabbing onto a handful of his jet-black hair and bowing your body forwards. “Toji—”

“Look at her.”

As though he wasn’t even hearing you right now- Toji’s eyes were widened, his voice slightly breathy. Both of his hands were positioned on either side of your cunt n’ spreading your puffy pussylips apart. “Fucking look at her…”

Toji’s tone was trembling.

Toji’s tone was wrecked.

And you’ve never seen the man knot his dark brows like this- as though he was at the feet of a shrine and worshipping you with looooong, deep thrusts into your wet cavern.

So watching him between your legs like this- you already knew that Toji was a ravenous eater from your relationship. But to hear him be so desperate?

You couldn’t help the next words that fall from your mouth, “N-Naoya always thought it was emasculating to-”

There’s a brief squelch then a smack!

He’s tugging his hands away from your stinging clit, before kissing all over it. Sucking. It made your knees weeeak to feel him unabashedly press up against your pulsing nub as he thrusted his tongue inside - sniffing, moaning, breathing you in. “How can ya have a pussy like this…” 

Letting his jaw droop even further open as he presses the tip of his tongue inside, swabbin’ into every geysering orifice. “How—?” He’s massagin’ your tight walls apart from one another, accelerating with every soft gasp you’re letting out. “How can ya have a pussy like this n’ not just fucking drown yerself in it?”

You’re bucking off of the frigid tile, leaking out a few more dewdrops of slick.

He moans as he watches that bead of translucence exit from your hole n’ cascade between your legs- “Some men die of thirst whilst others fucking- fuck, fist their cock to the thought of this pussy every night.” 

Excitement zips down your spine as you realize he’s talking about himself- every night? For six months straight? “Every-”

“Every night.” Toji affirms. “Six months straight. I thought about how many times I’d make you cum on my tongue.”

“Shit—” He’s then fucking your poor hole battered, harder than the strokes he had before. Those were just to fit the first few inches of him inside, these were to make your velvety pussy feel him.

“Every fuckin’ night. I missed this pussy soooooo—” Spitting. “-much. Every night, I thought about how much my poor girl must be missin’ me. Every night, I thought about how much better she’d taste than any sweet dessert in the world.”

“Toji—” Your whines rattle through the locker room. “Shit, it feels so good-”

“And it’s the fuckin’ least she deserves.” 

Without any further warning, Toji then slides the larger end of his thumb between your sopping wet slit. Collecting a few wads of your clingy juices, he’s pushing it back in—

“Fuck, she’s so tight.” He whispers underneath his breath, nose crinkling at the way your gooey walls immediately rush to clench around him. His tip being engulfed by the warmth. Not only were you sucking him in, but those cutely trembling hips of yours were jerkin’ off the wall expecting more, more, more- “She hasn’t been fucked properly in a while…”

And before you can even register it, he’s removing his thumb with a wettened plop! Rapidly replacing it with his lengthy middle finger, his index.

Scissoring those scouring tips open inside you.

Swabbing them into those ridges n’ sweet spots.

Letting them jostle against one another and against your most tender areas-

Fuck, you’re throwing your head back.

Those thoroughly thick fingers of his kept filling you up so much more than his tongue did, and you’re gnawing down on your bottom lip to keep yourself from making too much noise—even more than you already were. In and out. In and out.

How you missed the pleasurable burn of him stuffin’ you. 

The way it sends carnal shockwaves up your spine- especially every time he pushes past the shy squeezes of your first ring of muscle. The first restraint. 

“T-Toji…” You’re wailing out in that pretty tone that makes his ears perk up immediately, “Please—” Your hips rut upwards, “So close to…”

“Tch- d’you even have to ask?”

And you didn’t think that Toji Zenin was ever the type to forget anything to do with your cunt, did you? Did you? 

Because this wasn’t his first damn rodeo: you best believe that the first time Toji ever had the chance to feel you clenchin’ around his fingers, he took the time to memorize every nook and cranny inside. He’d mapped it all out.

He’d drilled it straight into his brain that if he quirked his fingers juuuuust so to feel the spongy depths of your roof- then shovelled his fingers along that pathway…juuuuust so. He’d be greedily swallowed up until his joints, and it’d only take a few more vulgar thrusts for him to locate that special bundle of nerves inside of you.

The one that made you see stars. The one that made you call his name out loud enough for the neighbors to hear-

“Heh…” He dares crack a smirk, “And he hasn’t found this spot yet, right?”

And right now, your prettily cracking whine was echoing across every corner of the locker room. “T-Toji—” He’d found your g-spot. Reeling his slick-glazed fingers back just enough to roughly push and push, to dig his rounded fingertips against that throbbing area. Constantly. “Right there- k-keep going. Right there-”

“Heh- keep going? You seriously ever thought I’d stop—?” The captain of the national theme looks genuinely baffled you’d asked, disbelieving of the words. Him? Stopping when you’re completely begging for him not to? “Doll, I’d rather fuckin’ die than let this pretty pussy down.” 

And with that said, Toji wraps his swollen lips around your clit once more.

He was stimulating you with twice the blissful waves now- once with his fingers probing into you and pinpointing each sensitive nerve inside you. The other through the wet smacks! of his lips, latching onto your knobbly clit and sucking as though the sweetest candy in the world.

You watch as Toji’s handsome cheeks hollow out because of his suctioning. His pretty pink lips were all glossed over with layers of your sploshin’ cunt, rolling drunkenly over that nub.

“I need you to cum on my tongue.” The black-haired man sputters against your wet, treacly cunt—his breaths becoming more n’ more ragged by the second. Tone thick, “I need you to cum on my fuckin’ tongue so bad-”

“M’so close—” You’re using the leverage you have on his sweaty bangs to tug him in even deeper- not that Toji could go even deeper.

But he smirks at your sheer desperation and you can feel the formulation of his expression against your sodden pussy. And that’s when your panties are being properly ripped off your hips- straight off. Clean. With his teeth. As you buck and gasp, he’s spitting out the useless lace remnants into his left hand and snakin’ it between his legs.

And you’re not quite sure - you can’t see beyond his hunched core - what Toji’s doing with that particular treasure. But by the way his biceps suddenly flex as though gripping something, by the way he lets out a sudden grooooooan deep into your pussy- you can already guess.

Toji’s sculptured arm starts flying up and down at a rapid pace.

In the same sloppy, striking cadence as he’s fuckin’ his tongue between your soft pussylips. He jerks himself off furiously, a thin line of sweat drizzling down his forehead the more, and more, and more-

“Toji, baby—” You’re whimpering out, tugging on his shaggy strands a bit to make him look at you. “M’gonna cum- so don’t stop, m’kay?”

“Has-” Panting out a murky breath, “Has he ever made you cum before?”

To which you’re almost embarrassed to shake your head, “N-no…”

“Can’t believe he’d- fuck.” Toji grumbles, his thick brows marrying together. Those sharp canines of his make an appearance as he snarls, “M’gonna kill that bastard. M’gonna fucking kill him-” Slapping the velvety underside of his tongue down-down-down—“But first m’gonna make you cum.”

And since the last time you saw him, Toji Zenin has learned to keep his promises. And he’s proving it.

Which is why it takes only a few more vicious strikes at the very bottom of your pussy - at the very target of your g-spot - for you to throw your head back n’ start shaking with your orgasm. The white-hot pleasure coursing through your every blood vessel makes you cry out, so much better than you remembered.

This wasn’t the same as idly prodding yourself with your vibrator while your boyfriend wasn’t home.

This makes you buck. This makes you gasp. “C-cumming—” Your thoughts coming belated to you as you’re riding out Toji Zenin’s handsome face, elongating your high on the prominent curve of his nose or the puffiness of his lips. “Cumming, Toji, shit…s’the best it’s ever felt.”

“Uh-huh?” He murmurs up wetly at you. “Only the best for m’girl.”

“Your girl?” And that makes something within you tremor almost as much as your orgasm.

“Shhhhh, and ride out your orgasm-” He’s talking you through those soaring peaks of your high - incredible. 

Because not only was Toji curving his fingertips just right against your g-spot, but he smirked against your clit and gently bit down on that nub.

You’re flinching upwards- never having experienced something so strong. At least, not in six months.

And it seems like forever before your high passes - not that you were complaining. That orgasm left you all heated and raw, feeling so wound-up that you honestly thought a mere brush of Toji’s fingers would be enough to get you cumming again.

Your overwhelming wave of pleasure is just barely finished before Toji stands up to his full height again.

Blinking away the tears in your eyes, you’re looking up at him. The slightly-dimmed lights of the locker room created the effect of a halo around his head- how ironic…because the way he’d made out with your pussy made you think of Toji to be someone from quite the opposite realm.

But you don’t get to comment on that right now.

No- you were too busy watching slack-jacked as he tugs off his national team jersey. 

And you’d already seen Toji shirtless before - of course, you have. You’ve already seen him in every state there was to see him—but it’s seeing him after so long that really makes your cunt twitch. Your eyes sweep across his broad shoulders, those toned pecs with a certain familiarity- you note that he still had that unruly line of his happy trail. It was deep black in color, a ruggedly handsome look to it as it started off at his abs then snaked all the way down, down, down…

His chiselled abs. His slightly-tanned skin.

The only real difference that you could’ve pointed out was that Toji, in fact, seemed a little…bigger than you remembered him. Bulkier. Beefier. Broader around his arms and his pecs.

And perhaps that was in part to do with memory- but more likely it was that his new training regiment with the national team had been serving him well. Very well.

And his cock, fuck, his cock…

Toji hadn’t fully exposed himself as he jerked off whilst eating you out- but it was more than enough. Just enough of his black hockey pants getting nudged down—they stuck around his meaty upper-thighs, and you’re left starin’ at the thiiiiick throbbing cock in-between.

Toji was big. Toji was hard. Toji was so reddened at the tip of his bulbous shaft that you wondered whether it must be painful-

You hadn’t forgotten just how big he is, had you?

But you swear Toji had been around seven or eight inches the last time you’d…seen him all those months ago. But this? This was about nine- fuck, if you pulled out a ruler than you wouldn’t be surprised if he was around even ten inches. 

Perhaps that was just your imagination refusing to concede that your ex was the largest you’ve ever had. The best, too.

Thickened so much that it made your legs squeeze. Covered in veins from underneath his reddish tip, and aaaaaaaaall the way down to his tanned base. 

Those hefty balls of his clenched at your attention, and you’re both thinking at the same time that he must’ve really missed you.

Toji reaches his right hand up to his face and spits—slithering it down to give his aching erection a good tug. That mere touch was enough to make him ooze out a few more droplets of pre, capping the top of his crowned tip as though the prettiest glaze.

He has to cough ever-so-slightly to rip your attention away from his cock.

Even then, you could barely keep your eyes off of your ex-boyfriend as he turned his hockey jersey the right way. About to throw it over his shoulder when—he looks at you and seemingly gets an idea.

“Off, doll.”

And suddenly it’s a blur of hands and grabbing - Toji’s pulling your own clothes off, ultimately leaving you in absolutely nothing. He tucks those remnants of your panties in his pants pockets, and tugs your head through the holes of the jersey—

“Y-you’re making me wear this?” You’re babbling out stupidly as he steps back to admire his work, “And only this?”

Toji lets out a low whistle, “Fuck, yeah.” Before gesturing for you to twirl- “Now turn around n’ put your hands on the wall- hah, I want to see my name on you while I fuck you.”

Nevermind the fact that technically this was his last name, as well.

But that didn’t matter - never would. These were Toji’s colors, Toji’s number.

And right now, it was Toji’s fat- aching cock that was making your pussylips bulge apart. Slowly and sensually.

He might’ve been ravenous when he was tasting you for the first time in six months - but Toji was taking his goooood time filling up your driveling orifice. Stuffing back the beads of slick that kept on spraying out of you, letting his pointed tip stretch your entrance out.

He’s letting his breath hitch as he reels his hips back a bit, pushing his twitching cock iiiiiiiiiinside and then out. Iiiiiiiiiinside and then out.

Baaaaack and forth.

Baaaaack and forth.

That ruddied roundness of his cockhead gets stuck between your lips, and Toji’s brows furrow- he attempts to pull out. He really does.

But you’re just gobbling him up so damn greedily- inch by fucking inch. That he can’t help but arch his toned hips against yours- soothing the globes of your ass cheeks a bit before Toji gives a nice, honed thrust. Pointed deep towards the back of your pussy.

Though he isn’t getting that far with your snug channel.

“O-oh—” The captain groans out as he’s sucked in deep, push by fuckin’ push. The intrusion of his girth makes its way ‘round your first ring of tight fuckin’ muscle - slotted between your legs and enough to leave your knees weak with only a few shallow thrusts.

Toji’s having such fun holding onto the side of your waist- eventually moving to hook ‘round your pretty thighs when it seemed as though you were going to collapse.

His pretty girl, so desperate to take him that you can’t even stand.

“Fuck, you feel so good.” He breathes out, scorching breath gusting down the curvature of your spine. “Fuck, my girl’s pussy feels so good—”

“Toji-” And for the first few of his semi-thrusts, you’re letting your eyes roll to the back of your head. But thereafter you’re jerking your hips back in desire for more, craving all those carnal itches inside of you satisfied by Toji’s thick cock. “N-need it.”

Toji opens his mouth to tease - you’re sure of it - but at that very moment you’re using your velvety walls to give him a thorough clench that makes him break off into a groan. “This pussy’s been so hungry f’me, hm?”

Shivers wracking through your entire body. “Y-yes-”

“He didn’t fuck you like he should’ve, hm?”

“He didn’t—fuck.”

“Always wished it was your- heh, ex beside you, huh?”

Tearily, you’re looking back at him with an expression of sheepish guilt. “Yes…”

“Oh—” And the mere fact that you said that - your mere answer - is enough for the towering man to hunch his body into yours. To buck his hips into you like an animal.

It wasn’t even planned.

Just an instinctual movement to graze his dribbling tip against the very forefront of your womb- Toji lets his cockhead pulse inside you for a moment before starting to fuck you again. Slightly speedier, slightly deeper. 

Slightly rubbin’ the line of his flared ridge against your dewy insides—it made the man’s balls clench to watch the way you’d drip n’ suction around him. You were fucking thinking of him? Just as much as he was thinking of you? “So this pussy has been greedy f’me.” As if to prove his point, he’s easing in just a few more puckered inches to swipe the front of his burning divot against your spongy cervix. “How many times have you touched yerself to the thought of me?”

“I-I—” It takes you a sudden slap on your pussylips to realize that he was genuinely waiting for an answer. 

“How many times?” Toji gasps between his clenched canines, Adam’s apple bobbing in fervor. “And don’t lie to me, girlie- I know s’been more than once.”

“So many times-” Just the most sultry scrape against your g-spot- the sensation of Toji’s pulsating cockhead pressing on those nerves feels so good. Good enough to reveal your secrets, your hazy brain seems to think. “T-too many times to count-”

“Fuck.” He has to gnaw down on his bottom lip to keep himself from cumming too soon. Too fast. If anything, he wasn’t going to be like that (likely) two-pump chump boyfriend of yours.

Which is why the older man finds himself smearing his left hand over your pussylips once more- this time, however, it wasn’t to place a mean spank. It was to spread those folds open and roll his fingertips over your neglected clit. “Dirty girl. And h-how many times have you cum just from the thought of me?”

“All of those times, Toji.” The constant rhythmic nudgin’ of your favorite spot was enough to leave your mind absolutely shattered by this point in time. “All those times I—ngh, can only cum if it’s you.”

“Oh?” Fuck—fuck, fuck, fuck. D-don’t even fuckin’ say…” He reaches down and slams his hand against your clit once more - partly to take his mind off of those sinful words you were babbling, partly out of punishment for exactly those. And if you were in any better state of mind, then you’d have marvelled at the fact that you’d just made Toji Zenin sound damn starstruck. Just with your pussy. “Don’t even fuckin’ say that shit.”

He leans over you and nuzzles his cheek against your own.

Scarred lips muttering into your ear, “I know she’s been- fuck, needing me just as much as I need her.” They’re kissing down your sweaty temple for a few seconds before sinking his teeth into your ear lobe, “I know she’s been fucking—dreaming of me, wishing for me, fantasizing about me, getting so fuckin’ aroused at just the thought of me that- hah, locker rooms like these were a problem.”

Blinking the tears away from your eyes, “W-wait…”

“Or maybe that was just me.” Toji finishes off. Though he really didn’t have to for you to realize that he’d been talking about himself the entire time.

Toji had been craving you these past six months.

Desiring you.

Fucking his fist and his pillows at the thought that - perhaps one day - he’ll have you underneath him like this again.

And perhaps that’s why there was a strange reverence to everything he did. Something jittery at his fingertips, something that made him hold you a little tighter - as though to make sure that you were really real.

He’s looping both strong arms around your tremoring figure and gluing you to his toned front. There, you were being massaged after each rub n’ puuuuuull of his vein-decorated cock down your swallowing insides. Hand still reaching downwards.

Toji lets out the most lecherous slurps once he still manages to loop his hand between your sodden pussylips n’ toy with your clit. Finger pinching. Thumb rolling. Just by how sensitive you were - still getting re-used to the sultry sensation of someone else’s hand upon your nub - he knew that that damn Naoya wasn’t properly lovin’ on this part of you, either.

And it makes his blood boil just as it did on the rink today.

His fingers move on top of your clit at an almost frenzied pace- back arching, head throwing back. 

Naturally, your lips spread wide open to let out an echoing moan—but it’s too late. Toji’s already leaning in and replacing it with a dollop of his sweetened saliva, “Yeah…” He looks down at you as though you were a dream, “M-maybe that was just me- fuck, but I have one question, doll.”

“Yes—?” Sobbing out.

“Have you ever…” Almost as if it was a precious secret, meant to be between the two of you and the locker room, Toji leans down to whisper against your ear. “-imagined me while he was fucking you?”

Your jaw drops.

Your cunt twitches.

And Toji feels the flooding of your walls with arousal- it’s splashin’ either side of his cylindrical girth. One that was probing and pushing—and speckling every sweet spot inside you with his sap, Toji was fucking you as though he was furious with you.

Long, hard pummels of his hips.

Hard enough that the skin surrounding his pelvis area was reddened.

Long enough that your mind was already completely muddled - filled with only the probin’ pressure of his plump cockhead. Pointing against the cute button of your g-spot once more—“Yes.” You whisper.

And if there was anything - anything - that could make the Toji Zenin falter, then it would’ve been this. Because for two split-seconds you’re feeling the constant sloppy scouring of your innards pause- before it’s resuming harder than ever.

Before he’s fully bottomed-out now and slamming against the gooey depths of your womb.

Before you’re cumming from just that single thrust-

“Y-yes—?” Even Toji’s voice shatters on the repetition of your answer - and he’s looking down at you with his deep, probing eyes. “You- you thought about m-me fucking you when you were still with that bastard?”

You turn around at the amused disbelief in his voice, and nod. “Always thought about you, Toji.” You’re not blind to the way this particular sentence makes the other man flinch—“Every time. He must’ve thought that- ngh, he was the one making me feel good this whole time but it was- oh. It was you.”

“And it…felt good?”

“So good-”

Unsure what to say - unsure what to even do- Toji merely leans down and bites the tender side of your throat. Sure for anyone to see past your collar.

Claimed.

You squeal as you’re fucked through your second high of the night, “A-always you—Toji.” Though loooooong and rugged smooches of his tip, perfectly pointed to graze your ridges inside and ultimately end up on the g-spot. 

Tears bursting to your eyes. Hands slipping with sweat along the tiles.

Toji pulls you even deeper into his embrace - grabbing ahold of your neck with his free hand, the other reaching down to pinch your clit in short, staccato pulses. Matching the peaks of your high. He makes sure to wait just until your wracks of pleasure are at their highest, before plummeting his throbbing cock inside.

Maximizing the rub-a-dub of those prominent veins of his. Sending spurts of pleasure shivering all throughout your body at their massage.

Ridged shaft stretchin’ out those spots that feel the best, his sheer length splitting you up from the inside - you couldn’t possibly forget how well Toji’s cock filled you. Reaching into any deep crevice and orifice, markin’ himself out aaaaaall across your channel with the rounded bruises he left behind.

The captain of the ice hockey team was ruttin’ into you so hard that it was causing the heels of your feet to lift off the floor. 

His thick fingertips dig into your body, plastering you against him- “Always you, my girl.” His words come out sharp and exhaled, “Only you.”

“O-only—ngh.” He catches you from slipping down the vertical wall, scorched chuckles dusting down the crook of your neck. “Toji…”

“Hmmmm?”

Slight panic bleeding into your tone, “Th-there’s someone in the other l-locker room—fuck.”

“Fuckin’ what?” 

Still wracking with the waves of your high. “There’s someone in the other locker room-”

Growling, he’s bowing his powerful lower half towards you - where you were frantically gesturing and miming something at the other side of the wall. The locker rooms were positioned as such that they were side-by-side, sharing a single wall split down the middle of its vast cavern, from which they ignored the existence of the other out of courtesy.

And no matter what one might fear about rowdy ice hockey teams, it never did cause any issues. Yet.

Right now you could hear someone’s footsteps through the tiled wall, you could hear someone’s existence, you could hear someone muttering.

Seemingly not having the best of days - though after that loss, you couldn’t blame them - your mystery US player was banging on locker doors and hissing out swears. It’s only once he seemingly drops something on the floor by accident, letting out a string of expletives starting with ‘b’ that it’s clicking just exactly who this player is—

“Oh, look-” Toji’s the first to start, and you could practically hear the smirk in his voice. “-your wittle boyfriend’s here, too, doll.”

“He’s not my-”

“Why don’t we give him a proper welcome, hm?” Toji’s crooning out meanly, “Why don’t we cheer him up? That little ah- incident on the ice must’ve really been a blow to his ego.”

You’re shivering at the implications, “D-don’t you fucking dare-”

“Whaaaaaat? M’not doing nothing.” Scarred lips quirking up into a grin- you’re noticing that Toji hasn’t slowed his hammerin’ down for a single second. In fact, he’s reeling his slick-glazed cock backwards and leaning the weight down upon your lower half, probin’ you at even deeper angles. The smooth, slippery tip of his shaft was swabbing away into those nice bundles of nerves- “I didn’t even say that you should do anything.”

Hiccuping at the feeling of him funneling you full - all the way to your throat. “Th-then—”

“I just need you to be a—mmm, good girl f’me and- hah, take it.” The constant smacking of his toned hips get even harder, louder. Ricocheting off your eardrums and off the walls- “Take aaaaaaall from tip to base.”

The utmost amount of squelches n’ slurps leaving you.

You wondered if Naoya could already hear you…

Shivering at the carnal feeling of him stretchin’ those tiniest orifices within you up. You loved the way his honed tip would ease in, only getting thicker and longer and thiiiicker and loooonger the more he’s fucking you. The more. 

“Take it aaaaaaall until this greedy pussy’s satiated-” He pinches your clit once more, lining down the spot of your nerves. “Take it all until this pussy remembers-”

There’s the sound of another locking being slammed from the other side of the wall.

And you’re shivering-

To which Toji grinds his hips in close - so close - that you’re unable to buck n’ swerve your hips away. Eagerly taking those deeply probing grinds of his, “Take it until this pussy remembers who’s always fucked her right.”

You’re mewling through your tears, “Y-you—”

And Toji grins before bunching up that red, red jersey of his in his free hand. Looking at the name that flashed upon your arched back, jostling with each thrust - “And who’s that? What’s the name on the back of this jersey?”

“But he has the same—fuck.” Moan echoing so fucking loud this time- you’re swearing you hear the other man pause whatever he was doing. Hear him listen. Hear him wait. “Zenin.”

Something drops to the floor on the other side of the wall, as if fallen in shock.

And Toji smirks.

“That’s right-” He pants out open-mouthed kisses down the side of your neck, “Can’t hear you- what’s the name?”

“Zenin-”

“Still can’t hear you-” Thrusts and bursts of pleasure steadily climbing up in intensity. Even though you’ve just cum, you could feel a twitching at the pit of your stomach. “What’s the name?”

“Zenin-”

“What’s the fuckin’ name?”

There was no way he couldn’t hear by now. The slapping. The clenching. The moans. “Zenin—”

He slaps your clit once. “And who’s last name is that?”

You knew you were going to fall apart soon. You knew that all it’s going to take was one final thrust- reeling his rounded, glossy tip back as far as it would go. It’s letting just a few tears cascade down your cheeks, and you’re looking back - “Y-yours, Toji?”

“No.” He grins—chiselled core pummeling into yours. He teases your clit with a cute lil’ heart drawn on top, “S’gonna be yours.”

“Oh—” With the loudest, most lecherous moan yet- you’re falling apart all over Toji Zenin’s cock. So sensitive that your orgasm rips through your stark and primal - nothing but a resurgence of bliss that leaves your limbs feeling all weak.

They’re shaking just a lil’ as you’re riding out your high on his vein-covered cock, the perfect number of strikes before your g-spot feels raw. 

The perfect number of strikes before your clouded mind gets even cloudier—and Toji’s throwing his head back with a sharp, busting orgasm. Toes curling. Abs clenching. Beading from the drooling divot of his shaft, he gushes out constant volumes of cum.

Letting it dribble all the way from your deepest depths to your sultry hole- and then spotting even the tiniest crevices inside of you with his pearly white juices. “Shit-” His crackling tone breaks out into the heady air, “Sh-shit, now she’s properly mine again- heh.”

As Toji fucks his wads of seed deeper inside you, they’re letting off the most lewd squelches.

“Now she’s shut up her yowling a bit- ngh, my girl’s been wanting this for so long, huh?”

“Yes.” You nod. 

“She’s been starvin’ for my cum?” He coaxes, “She’s been all empty without me?”

“So filthy…” You’re mumbling out. Uncaring anymore of what Naoya would think - you didn’t hear anything more from his side of the locker room—maybe he’d disappeared?

“Damn right.” Toji chuckles. Dark bangs covering most of his vision as he’s pumping his thickened tip inside, swervin’ aside your sopping wet walls to make even more room for his thick cum. “She’s now all full I think, hmmmm?”

And you certainly felt full. 

You could feel the splashin’ around of those gooey puddles of sap inside you, clinging onto the tiniest spots they could. He was only messing your insides even further with every single thrust—leaving a wet puddle of most of it seeping into the very back of your womb. “I th-think so-”

“What was that, Mrs. Zenin?” Toji goads, his voice ringing out loudly. “Think yer all full with my cum or do you want even- hah, more?”

You’re murmuring something unintelligible that he has to lean in to hear.

“What was that? Can’t hear you, doll, you’ve gotta speak up-” Suddenly, he leans away and addresses the other side of the wall. “Whaddaya think, Naoya? Think she deserves some more-”

“Toji, shut up—” Swatting behind at him.

Toji escapes with a burst of gruff laughter, “Of course, I wouldn’t ask that fucker-” He presses a somewhat chaste kiss onto your lips, “Tell me, doll, what do you want?”

“I w-want…” You’re repeating from before.

“Hmmmm?”

“Think I might want your baby, Toji.” Peering up at him with such pretty heart-eyes.

And that makes his breath hitch.

That makes him stall.

Toji’s green eyes widen just a fraction- before he’s pulling out and turning you around. Staring deep into your eyes, the captain urges you to jump - wrapping your legs around his toned waist, your hands on his shoulders, your body being easily hoisted by his own - so that he can lift you off the floor.

Probin’ that rock-hard tip of his inwards- 

“Guess there’ll be one more Zenin this time next year- heh. ”

.

.

.

Naoya Zenin was stunned. He was speechless.

Which is highly unusual, because Naoya Zenin is never shocked. Never speechless.

Except for when he saw the estranged Toji Zenin at the game…and when he got beat up by Toji Zenin at the game…and right now, as it’s slowly dawning upon him that Toji Zenin was fucking his girlfriend after the game-

Naoya didn’t think you were serious, alright?

Because how many fuckin’ times have you threatened to break up with him over stupid shit like that? This was just a little outing with the boys - to a few nighttime establishments with a few nighttime girls - that was being blown majorly out of proportion.

And sure, Naoya might have embarrassed himself thoroughly in front of you and a couple million spectators today.

But what couldn’t a 5000 yen bouquet fit?

He was planning on making up with you right after, telling you to stop being paranoid and perhaps this will only make your relationship stronger in the long run. And he’d just gotten back from the medic to get his shit back when…when the noises had started up.

It was a slightly damp noise at first, almost like water.

Then came the soft groans.

The impact of skin-on-skin.

The voices that made it undeniable—if only he couldn’t recognize them. And he almost couldn’t, to be quite honest, Naoya had never heard you making such noises when it was him in bed.

But he knew it was you.

Worst of all, with Toji fucking Zenin of all people.

And it was when Toji had loudly announced your engagement to him, the way you’d be taking his last name (Naoya had no clue the two of you had dated before, and he didn’t want to know) that’d been the last straw for him. He dumps his bangs and his uniforms behind, storming out from a locker room that was now thoroughly invaded by the sounds of your sex.

Muttering some unrepeatable phrases underneath his breath, Naoya’s so caught up in his wallowing that he nearly doesn’t notice the man he bulldozes over in his effort to get away.

“Oh, hey—” Shiu smiles sheepishly at the younger man, “I just wanted to check on y-”

“I’m fine-”

And with that he’s storming off. To where? He doesn’t know, he’ll probably have to come back and get his shit later but…

He takes it that you’ve now officially broken up with him.

Meanwhile, suit-clad, clipboard-holding Shiu is left utterly confused at what just happened. He’d expected a screaming match, maybe several lawsuits by the spoiled heir of the Zenin Industries at least.

Refusing to believe his luck, Shiu takes a peak inside the opposing team’s locker room just to make sure that everything was alright- and that’s when he hears it. “—think I might want your baby, Toji.”

Oh.

Oh.

It was coming from the other side of the large wall- their locker room. 

And he’s recognising the voice- wait, that’s your voice. Toji’s ex that he’d been moping over for these past six months, the one that triggered their captain to get in that fight today in the first place.

Though, he doesn’t blame you- with that fucker as a boyfriend? Shiu doesn’t think he’s biased for claiming that his best friend’s leagues better.

But, at the end of the day, Shiu was their coach above all.

And as their coach, he couldn’t allow his players to get into anything reckless or anything violating the code of the Olympics. They’d all be in such deep shit if you happened to be caught - so you must forgive Shiu for doing what he has to do.

For rounding the other side of the locker room entrances and stepping into his own team’s chamber. Heady with sweetness, with sex.

He’s here as a coach to warn the two of you- really. That’s just it.

That’s it.

Nothing else. Nothing else at all.

No ulterior motives.

His pants tighten, cock twitching traitorously at the barrage of noises leaking into every corner of the room.

Shiu raps on your stall door as a…coach.

A/N. Mwahahaha…come to me coach… ALSO TO MY PHILIPPINES BABYGIRLS WE MISS YOUUUU <33

Plagiarism not authorized.

[the-big-mood]

In 1997, local television in Kharkiv accidentally filmed one of the most iconic rave moments in history.

[ruinedchildhood]