Simp🫡

26. Newbie just trying stuff🤷🏾‍♀️

[tootiecakes234]

Bio

Hi, (maybe not on haitus😂 idk)

My name is Tootie. I started this blog to be more diverse BUT I've fallen into a Katsuki Bakugo rut..lmao

(I’m closing requests for the time being because I’m getting behind on them!!!)

This is a safe space. Please be respectful to me and anybody I interact with on my blog.

I AM LEARNING PLEASE BE GRACIOUS!

Anyways here's my Masterlist

#Free Palestine #Free Congo #Free Sudan

[polaroidsex]

᭡୧ Fix your route? Nah, Fuck you right. — N. Kento.

᭡୧ synopsis: in which nanami is a longtime divorced man but got a very active sex life. and in which a new, bimbo… and a very much younger neighbor moves in next to his apartment. worst part is, he’s not able to control himself around you. especially when you’re at his door, asking him to fix your wifi late at this hour.

᭡୧ pairing: older!nanami kento x kinda bimbo fem!reader

᭡୧ c. warnings: age gap, heavy sexuál tension, eyefu cking, solo m. mast urbation, nanami is in his 40s and reader is early 20s, belly/tummy bulge, fing ering, did i say heavy se xual tension?, pus sy eating, overstim ulation, squi rting, weak plot/heavy po rn — if there’s more to tag lmk. w.c: 7.8k+

nanami kento has always kept his life neat and quiet, the kind of man who folds his shirts the same way every morning and times his coffee exactly seven minutes after the water boils. forty years old, divorced once a long time ago, and now he lives alone in the corner apartment on the fourth floor where the hallway light flickers just enough to remind him he should probably call maintenance but never does.

his sex life is the same as everything else he controls, sparse and deliberate. a few times a year he lets himself download one of those bland apps, meets a woman his age in a hotel bar, fucks her slow and polite in the dark so neither of them has to look too closely at the other.

most nights though it is just his own hand in the shower, quick and efficient, eyes closed while he thinks about nothing at all. he likes it that way. clean. no mess. no complications. until you moved in next door three months ago and ruined every single one of those careful rules without even trying.

you showed up on a rainy tuesday with too many cardboard boxes and a laugh that carried through the thin walls like it belonged there.

early twenties, fresh out of whatever college or job that spat you into this building, always in oversized shirts and tiny sleep shorts that rode up the back of your thighs when you bent over to pick up your mail. nanami noticed you the first time he passed you in the hallway, the way you smiled at him like he was just another neighbor instead of a man who suddenly felt every one of those twenty years between you. he told himself it was nothing. just new noise in a building that had been quiet for years. but then the noise became something else.

the soft thump of your music when you cooked dinner, the way your balcony light stayed on late while you scrolled on your phone, the faint vanilla scent that drifted under his door every time you took out the trash. he started catching himself pausing at the peephole when he heard your keys, hating the way his cock twitched at the mere sound of your footsteps. hating it more when he realized he was hard again in the shower that same night, fist wrapped tight around himself while he pictured those sleep shorts pooled around your ankles.

he tried to ignore it at first. threw himself into longer office hours, came home later, kept the volume on his television higher so he would not hear you humming in the shower through the shared wall. it did not work.

every little thing you did chipped at him. the way you waved from your balcony in the mornings wearing nothing but a thin tank top and no bra, nipples stiff from the cool air. the way you asked him once, all sweet and shy, if he knew how to fix a leaking faucet and stood too close while he worked, soft focused grunts leaving is chest and his rolled-up sleeve. after that night he jerked off twice before he could even get his jeans off, coming so hard he had to brace one hand on the shower tile just to stay upright.

he hated how easily you affected him. hated that a girl barely old enough to rent her own apartment could make a man like him, a man who prided himself on control, feel like some desperate teenager again. his sex life used to be something he managed. now it was just quiet frustration and the occasional guilty stroke while he thought about how small you would look under him, how tight you would feel, how pretty you would sound moaning his name.

then came the router. you knocked on his door at nine-thirty one random night, voice small and embarrassed over the phone first, then in person when he opened up still dressed in his white button-up and black jeans.

nanami stands at your doorway with one hand already in his pocket, the other holding the small toolbox he keeps for these exact random neighbor emergencies all ready, and he tells himself for the tenth time that this is nothing. just a quick fix.

your voice is soft and a little embarrassed over he’s not surprised. “sorry to bother you, nanami-san, but my wifi router just died and i have no idea what i’m doing with these things.” he had sighed, told you he would be right over, and now here he is, hating every single second because the moment you open the door he feels it again. that pull. that stupid, inconvenient heat low in his gut that has been creeping up on him since the day you moved in.

you are wearing your famous oversized t-shirt that slips off one shoulder and tiny sleep shorts that ride up when you shift your weight, bare feet on the hardwood, skin glazed with a thin layer of sweat like you had been lounging on the couch all evening.

you smile at him, grateful and a little shy, and nanami’s jaw tightens. he is forty, a divorced but settled, a man who likes order and quiet and routines that do not include getting half-hard at the sight of his much younger neighbor’s collarbones. yet here he is, eyes dragging down the line of your neck before he forces them back up.

“thank you so much for coming,” you say, stepping aside to let him in. your voice is warm, a little breathy from the relief of not having to deal with it alone. the apartment smells faintly of vanilla and whatever takeout you had for dinner.

nanami nods once, polite as always, and follows you toward the corner where the router sits on a low shelf. he can feel the weight of his own body, the clean but lived-in scent of his white button-up clinging slightly to his skin after a long day, black jeans sitting snug on his hips. he is musty in that grown-man way, soap and faint cologne mixed with the faint trace of office air and the walk over, nothing overpowering but undeniably male. he knows it. he hopes you do not notice how it fills the small space between you.

you hover close while he crouches down to look at the router, your thigh brushing his shoulder as you point at the blinking lights. “it just stopped working out of nowhere. i tried restarting it but…” your words trail off when he glances up.

his eyes catch on the way your t-shirt hangs loose, the soft swell of your tits visible at the neckline, the smooth skin of your legs right there at eye level. he should look away yet nanami does not. instead his gaze lingers, slow and heavy, tracing the curve of your hip, the way the hem of those shorts digs into the flesh of your thigh. he feels his cock twitch in his jeans, thickening against the zipper before he can stop it.

fuck.

he shifts his weight, trying to hide the growing bulge, but the movement only makes the fabric pull tighter.

“let me see,” he mutters, voice lower than he intends, rough around the edges. his fingers work the cables, checking connections, but his mind is not on the router. it is on you. on how you smell like warm skin and faint lotion, on how you keep biting your lip while you watch him, on how easily he could reach out and slide his palm up the back of your thigh.

he has been trying to ignore it for weeks. it takes him back to the way you wave at him from your balcony in the mornings, the sound of your laugh carrying through the thin walls when you are on the phone with friends, the soft thump of your music when you cook.

every little thing has been chipping away at his carefully built restraint. he is older. he should know better. but his body does not care about should.

he stands up slowly, taller than you by a good amount, and when he does his chest brushes your shoulder. you do not step back and the air between you feels thick, charged, and nanami’s eyes drop again, this time to your mouth, then lower to where your nipples have tightened under the thin shirt.

he swallows hard. his cock is fully hard now, pressing insistently against the front of his black jeans, the outline obvious if you were to look down. he turns slightly, pretending to fiddle with the router settings on his phone, but the movement only highlights the bulge.

he can feel the heat of it, the way it throbs when you lean in closer to see what he is doing, your breath ghosting over his forearm.

“is it the cable?” you ask, voice quieter now, like you have noticed the shift too. your eyes flick to his face, then down, then back up, and nanami sees the faint flush creeping up your neck. good. at least he is not suffering alone. he clears his throat, forcing his attention back to the device, but his free hand flexes at his side, knuckles whitening. he wants to touch you. wants to back you against the wall and slide those tiny shorts down your legs, wants to feel how wet you already are because he can smell it, that sweet faint arousal mixing with your usual scent.

his mind supplies the image without permission: you bent over the couch, his cock buried deep while he grips your hips and fucks the whimpers out of you. he exhales sharply through his nose.

“try it now,” he says, stepping back just enough to give you space, but not enough to hide anything. the router lights flicker green. you pull out your phone to test the connection and let out a small happy sound that goes straight to his dick.

“it works! oh my god, thank you, nanami-san.” you turn to him fully, eyes bright, and for a second he lets himself look. really look. at the way your chest rises with each breath, at the bare stretch of thigh, at how your lips part when you realize he is staring.

he does not smile. his expression stays bland, almost stern, but his eyes are dark and hungry, eye-fucking you so openly now that there is no pretending. his cock strains harder against the denim, a small wet spot forming where he is leaking, and he makes no move to hide it.

he is half heartedly relieved you do not notice. your gaze still stuck on your phone screen, lashes fluttering, and when you look back up, you read there is something new in his expression, something needy and waiting to be unleashed.

nanami’s voice comes out rougher than he means. “you should get a better router. this one is outdated.” it is the most neutral thing he can think of, but it does not matter.

the tension is already there, thick and undeniable, wrapping around both of you in the half-unpacked living room. he can feel his pulse in his cock, the heavy ache of it, the way his balls feel tight just from standing this close to you. he wants to hate how easily you affect him.

he does hate it. but he cannot stop the slow drag of his eyes over your body one more time, imagining exactly how you would look spread open on his bed, taking every inch while he tells you how long he has been fighting this.

you shift on your feet, thighs pressing together, and nanami catches the tiny movement. his jaw clenches. he should leave. he should say goodnight and go back to his quiet apartment and jerk off to the memory like he has done more nights than he cares to admit.

your heartbeat picks up its rate, your finger tips sweaty. you feel the air thickening already, noticing the print of your neighbors dick without even looking down.

“so maybe you could stay and i could make you some te–” your proposal is short lived.

“i’ve fixed what you’ve called me to help for. goodnight.” his stern voice catches you off guard, watching him collect and grab the toolbox on the floor that was forgotten seconds ago. you try to say something but stay frozen when he pushes past you, his neck veins slightly showing on his skin.

nanami strides out fast. because right now, with his cock hard and obvious and his control fraying at the edges, he is not sure he has the strength to stay in the same room with you.

and so he leaves you standing in the middle of your apartment with your wifi fixed and a pile of notifications ‘ding-ing’ every seconds.

+

a week drags by in thick, unspoken tension that sits heavy between the thin apartment walls like smoke that refuses to clear.

nanami wakes each morning with the same stern resolution burning behind his eyes: keep the distance, lock it down, pretend the night you called him over for the router never happened. he leaves for the office before the sun fully rises, comes home long after the hallway lights have dimmed, and when he passes your door he keeps his gaze fixed on the scuffed floorboards like they hold the answers to every moral question he has been asking himself since he first felt that inconvenient throb in his jeans. but the memory refuses to fade.

it lingers in the shower when hot water runs down his chest and his hand wraps around his cock without permission, stroking slow and frustrated while your freshly known name slips out between gritted teeth like a confession he wishes he could swallow back.

it follows him into bed at night, where he lies stiff on his back and remembers the exact shade of flush that crept up your neck when his eyes dragged too long over your body.

he hates it. hates how easily a girl barely out of her early twenties can unravel the careful, quiet life he has built for himself. he is older, disciplined, a man who values order and restraint above almost everything, yet here he is, reduced to stolen glances through the balcony railing and late-night strokes that leave him emptier than before.

you do not make any of it easier. you still wave at him from across the narrow gap between your balconies in the mornings, soft smile curving your lips like you know exactly what you are doing to him. you leave polite little notes taped to his door about shared packages or the new recycling bins downstairs, your handwriting neat and looping in a way that makes his fingers tighten around the paper every time.

each accidental brush of your fingers when you hand him mail in the hallway sends a spark straight down his spine, and every polite “good morning, nanami-san” you offer chips away at the walls he keeps trying to reinforce. he catches the sound of your laugh through the thin wall sometimes when you are on the phone with people… your age, light and warm, and his cock thickens in his slacks before he can stop it.

he tells himself it is nothing. just proximity. just the natural reaction of a man who has been alone too long. but deep down he knows the truth: you have gotten under his skin, and the more he tries to push it away the harder it pulls.

tonight the last thread of his restraint finally frays and snaps.

the familiar knock comes at exactly the time he wishes it to, soft but insistent, cutting through the quiet of his evening like a hook sinking into flesh.

nanami opens the door still dressed from the office, white button-up with the sleeves rolled neatly to his elbows, black jeans sitting low on his hips, the faint musty-clean scent of him drifting out into the hallway, clean and faint cologne and the long day clinging to his skin.

you stand there in another oversized t-shirt that slips off one shoulder and those same tiny sleep shorts that have been haunting him, hair not perfect like you had been caught up in something… private, cheeks already carrying that telltale pink flush. it’s as if last week was repeating itself.

“the router again,” you say, voice small and breathy, but your eyes are not on any imaginary problem. they trace the open collar of his shirt, the broad line of his shoulders, the way his chest fills the doorway. “it keeps dropping signal. i tried everything you showed me last time but… i think i need your help again.”

he should tell you no. should suggest you call the building manager in the morning this time and close the door before the air between you thickens any further. instead he exhales slowly through his nose, jaw tight, and reaches for the small toolbox he keeps by the door without saying a word.

he follows you next door, the faint click of the lock behind him sounding louder than it should. the moment you are both inside the living room the atmosphere shifts, warmer and heavier, like the space itself is holding its breath. you lead him to the same corner shelf where the router sits, but this time you do not hover at a polite distance.

you stand close enough that your bare arm brushes his rough skin when he crouches down to look. the lights on the router are steady green. he knows it is working fine the second he glances at it. and most definitely you know it.

the excuse is paper-thin and neither of you bothers to pretend otherwise.

nanami rises slowly, turning to face you fully, his tall frame casting a shadow over you in the soft lamplight. his eyes do the same slow, solemn drag they did the week before, only heavier now, sharpened by seven long days of fighting the memory of your body.

he watches the way your nipples have already tightened under the thin fabric of your shirt, the subtle press of your thighs together like the ache between them is already building. his cock responds immediately, swelling thick and heavy inside his black jeans, the thick ridge becoming obvious as it presses against the denim. he’s sure a faint damp spot is beginning to form, but he does not try to hide it this time. he lets you see. lets the weight of his stare settle on you like a touch.

“the router is working fine,” he says, voice low and rough, carrying that same stern tone he always uses, like he is delivering a verdict in court rather than standing in your living room with a hard-on he cannot will away. “you know that as well as i do. why did you really call me over here?”

you swallow visibly, eyes flicking down to the clear outline of his cock straining against his jeans before rising back to his face.

your chest rises and falls with a heavier breath, lips parting slightly, but instead of answering you take one slow step back. then another. your hands move to the waistband of your sleep shorts, fingers hooking under the fabric, and you bend forward just enough to slide them down your legs in one smooth motion.

the shorts pool at your ankles and you step out of them, leaving you in nothing but a pair of grey lace panties with delicate pink ribbons threaded along the edges. the soft fabric clings to the curve of your pussy, the faint outline of your folds visible through the thin material, and nanami’s right leg twitches involuntarily, his cock jerking hard inside his jeans at the sight.

his brows draw together in a quick pretend of frown, serious expression tightening. “what are you doing?” he asks, voice dropping even lower, a clear warning threaded through the words. but you do not stop. your fingers catch the hem of your oversized t-shirt next, lifting it slowly, inch by inch, revealing the soft skin of your stomach, the delicate dip of your waist, the underside of your breasts.

you pull the shirt up and over your head, letting it drop to the floor beside the shorts, and now you stand there in only the grey lace panties, tits bare, nipples stiff in the cool air of the room. nanami’s breath catches, his hands flexing hard at his sides, the long fingers curling into fists as he fights the urge to reach for you.

he says your name then, low and rough, the syllables heavy with warning. “don’t.” but you only smile, small and soft and knowing, and continue. your thumbs hook into the waistband of the panties, sliding them down your hips with agonizing slowness, the lace catching briefly on the swell of your ass before you let them fall.

you step out of them completely, now fully naked in front of him, skin flushed warm under his heavy gaze. you walk toward him, bare feet quiet on the floor, hips swaying just enough to make your tits move softly with each step. when you are close enough that he can feel the heat radiating from your body, when his mouth opens to speak again, you lift one finger and press it gently to his lips, shushing him.

nanami lets out a small, broken sound, half whimper, half groan, the noise slipping out before he can stop it. his cock throbs visibly in his jeans, another bead of pre-cum soaking into the fabric as the tension coils tighter in the narrow space between your bodies.

he exhales shakily against your finger, eyes dark and conflicted, thick needy lines deepening on his face. “you’re a very young girl…” he trails off, voice rough and strained, the words carrying the weight of every reason he has been telling himself to stay away.

you pull your finger back just enough to speak, voice soft but steady. “i’m legal.”

“barely,” he counters immediately, the word clipped, his gaze dropping despite himself to the bare curve of your breasts, it taught him to squeeze on them and make you feel good, the soft swell of your hips, the smooth skin between your thighs where he can already see the faint shine of arousal. “you’re barely twenty-something. i’m more than twice your age. this… this is not appropriate.”

you tilt your head slightly, still standing naked and unashamed in front of him, the tension so thick it feels like the air itself has weight. “and yet you’re standing here with your cock so hard i can see it twitching through your jeans,” you murmur, eyes flicking down pointedly to the obvious bulge. “you’ve been avoiding me all week, nanami-san, but you still came over the second i knocked. tell me again how inappropriate this is.”

caught him red handed. fuck you.

he lets out another low groan, the sound vibrating in his chest, his hand coming up like he might push you away but instead hovering just above your waist, fingers trembling with restraint. “you have no idea what you’re asking for,” he says, voice quieter now, almost pained. “i’m not some young man who can just… give in without consequences. you deserve better than an older neighbor who can’t keep his eyes off you.”

the banter stretches, slow and heavy, every word laced with the electric pull between you. you step even closer, your bare breasts brushing the front of his white shirt, nipples dragging against the fabric, and nanami’s breath hitches sharply. “then why does it feel like you’ve been thinking about this as much as i have?” you ask, voice barely above a whisper. “why do you look at me like you want to bend me over every time we pass in the hall?”

his jaw clenches, the muscle ticking visibly, but his eyes stay locked on yours even as his cock continues to throb between you.

“because i do,” he admits finally, the words dragged out like they cost him something. “i want to. more than i should. but you’re young. barely out of college. and i’m… this.” he gestures vaguely at himself, the musty yet cleaned scent of his body stronger now with the heat rising off his skin, the faint sweat dampening the collar of his shirt. “a tired man who should know better.”

you smile again, softer this time, and reach up to trace one finger along the line of his jaw. “then stop fighting it for one night,” you whisper. “just let yourself have me. i want you, nanami. i’ve wanted you since the first time you fixed my router and looked at me like you were starving.”

the silence stretches again, thick and humming with tension, his breath coming heavier now, chest rising and falling against yours. his hand finally settles on your waist, large palm warm and slightly rough against your bare skin, thumb stroking once, slow and deliberate.

he does not pull you closer yet, but he does not push you away either. the battle is still there in his eyes, solemn and conflicted, but the hunger is winning, inch by aching inch, as the minutes tick by in the quiet room and his cock continues to strain painfully against his jeans, waiting for the moment his restraint finally gives out completely.

nanami’s hand tightens on your waist, fingers spanning wide enough to nearly wrap around the curve of it, and the last of his resistance crumbles like dry paper under the heat of your bare skin against his palm.

he exhales once, long and shaky, eyes still calculated but dark now with the kind of hunger he has been trying to bury for weeks, and then he is moving, guiding you backward until the backs of your knees hit the couch and you sink down onto the cushions. he follows without a word, dropping to his knees between your spread thighs like a man who has finally stopped pretending he can walk away.

his broad shoulders push your legs wider, the white button-up stretching tight across his chest as he leans in, breath hot against the inside of your thigh. he looks up at you one last time, jaw set, like he is giving you one final chance to tell him no, but you only slide your fingers into his neatly combed hair and tug him closer. that is all it takes.

his mouth finds your pussy like he has been starving for it, lips parting to drag a slow, broad stripe up your folds, tongue flat and heavy as he tastes you properly for the first time. the groan that vibrates out of his chest is low and rough, almost pained, because you are already soaked, slick coating his tongue in a way that makes his cock jerk hard inside his jeans.

he licks again, slower this time, savoring the way your thighs tremble on either side of his head, then seals his mouth around your clit and sucks gently, tongue flicking in tight little circles that have your back arching off the couch. one of his huge hands slides up your stomach, palm pressing flat just below your navel, and he pushes down with just enough pressure to make your pussy clench around nothing.

the size of his hand there is obscene, fingers spread wide so his pinky rests near the base of your ribs and his thumb brushes the top of your mound, the sheer scale of him against your smaller frame making everything feel tighter, hotter, more overwhelming.

nanami eats you out like he has all night and nothing else matters, tongue sliding deep between your folds before circling back up to your clit, sucking and licking in a rhythm that builds slow and relentless. his free hand grips your thigh, spreading you even wider, thumb digging into the soft flesh while he buries his face deeper, nose pressing against your mound as he drinks down every drop of you. the wet sounds fill the quiet room, wet and loud, his groans mixing with the slick slide of his tongue and the shaky breaths you keep letting out.

he keeps that steady pressure on your lower belly the whole time, palm rubbing slow circles that make your insides twist and flutter, the tummy bullying so deliberate it feels like he is trying to feel exactly where his mouth is working from the inside. your hips twitch, trying to ride his face, but he holds you down with that big hand, keeping you exactly where he wants you while he pushes you closer and closer to the edge.

when you come it hits hard and sudden, pussy pulsing against his tongue as your thighs clamp around his head and a broken moan spills out of you. nanami does not stop. he keeps licking you through it, slower now but just as thorough, tongue dragging over your oversensitive clit until your whole body jerks and you try to squirm away from the intensity.

he only presses his palm firmer against your stomach, holding you in place, the slight overstimulation making your eyes water and your voice crack on his name. “nanami…plea– fuck, it’s too much,” you whimper, but he just hums against you, the vibration sending another sharp spark through your core, and slides two thick fingers into your still-clenching pussy without warning. they stretch you wide, the size of them so much bigger than your own that you feel every knuckle, every ridge, as he curls them deep and starts pumping slow and steady.

he lifts his head just enough to watch his fingers disappear inside you, eyes dark and tempting, lips shiny with your slick. “look at how well you take them,” he murmurs, voice gravel-rough, the praise low and almost reverent as he presses down on your belly again with his other hand, feeling the way his fingers create a very faint bulge against your walls from the outside.

the pressure makes everything tighter, more intense, and you clench hard around him, another wave of overstimulation crashing through you while he keeps fingering you through the aftershocks. his thumb finds your clit, rubbing slow circles that have you shaking, the combination of his thick fingers stretching you open and the firm press on your tummy turning every breath into a broken little sob.

he does not rush. he just keeps working you, long fingers dragging along that perfect spot inside while his palm rubs steady circles on your stomach, bullying that soft lower belly until you are dripping down his wrist and whimpering his name like it will make it better than it already is.

only when your thighs are trembling uncontrollably and your pussy is fluttering helplessly around his fingers does he finally ease up, sliding them out slow and careful, bringing them to his mouth to lick clean with a low groan that makes your stomach flip.

he stays on his knees between your legs for a long moment, forehead resting against your thigh, breathing hard while his cock strains painfully against his jeans, the front of the fabric dark with pre-cum. when he finally looks up at you his eyes are still determined, still carrying that quiet conflict, but the hunger has won completely now, and the way he stares at your flushed, marked body makes it clear he is nowhere near done with you tonight.

nanami stays on his knees between your spread thighs for another long, heavy breath, forehead pressed to the soft skin just above your knee while his chest rises and falls like he is trying to steady something inside himself that already broke minutes ago. his fingers are still shiny with you, the faint scent of his skin mixed with the sharp sweetness of your pussy hanging thick in the air.

when he finally moves it is slow and deliberate, like every motion costs him something. he rises to his full height, towering over you on the couch, white button-up wrinkled and damp at the collar from the heat rolling off both of you. his hands, large and steady, slide under your thighs and around your back in one smooth motion, scooping you up off the cushions like you weigh nothing at all.

your legs wrap around his slim waist on instinct, heels digging into the firm muscle of his lower back, and the sudden shift leaves you gasping against his shoulder because he lifts you so easily, strong arms locking you against his chest while your bare pussy hovers right above the heavy bulge still trapped in his jeans.

he does not give you time to look down. one arm stays banded tight under your ass, holding your weight like it is effortless, while his free hand works between your bodies to unbuckle his belt with a quiet metallic clink. the zipper follows, the sound loud in the quiet room, and he shoves both jeans and briefs down just enough to free himself.

you feel the thick, heavy length spring up against your inner thigh, hot and velvet-smooth, the blunt mushroom head already slick and leaking. before you can even tilt your head to catch a glimpse he shifts you higher in his arms, pressing your back against the nearest wall for leverage, and uses that same free hand to guide the fat head of his cock right to your dripping entrance.

the broad tip nudges through your folds, rubbing slow and deliberate, coating himself in your slick while he watches your face with those solemn dark eyes, brows knitted tight like he is still fighting the last scraps of restraint.

“breathe,” he mutters, voice low and rough, the single word almost gentle even as his hips tilt forward. he helps you sink down, one thick inch at a time, the stretch burning so good it makes your jaw go slack and your eyes flutter half-shut.

he is big, thicker than anything you have taken, the veined shaft dragging along your walls as he lowers you steadily until your ass meets his hips and he is buried to the hilt. a quiet groan tears from his throat when he bottoms out, the sound vibrating through his chest into yours, and for a long second he just holds you there, letting you feel every inch of him pulsing deep inside your smaller body.

you’re pressed and folded in an awkward position, and it only makes the size difference feel more obscene, your soft curves dwarfed by his tall, solid frame.

nanami does not wait long. his hands grip your ass harder, fingers digging into the soft flesh, and he starts to move, lifting you up and dropping you back down onto his cock with controlled, powerful strokes that hammer into you deep enough to punch the air from your lungs. each thrust makes your whole body jolt in his arms, tits bouncing under nothing. bare and free for him to watch, back sliding against the wall while he fucks up into you like he has been imagining it for weeks.

his height towers over you completely, shoulders broad enough to block out the room, white shirt straining across his chest with every roll of his hips.

the mushroom head of his cock drags perfectly along that spot inside you on every downstroke, the sheer size of him making your belly bulge slightly every time he bottoms out, a faint outline visible under your skin if you looked down, but he keeps your face buried against his neck so you cannot.

he keeps that steady, punishing rhythm, hips snapping up hard while his arms hold you suspended like you are weightless, the wet slap of skin on skin echoing louder with every thrust. sweat beads along his hairline, dampening the collar of his shirt, and his breath comes in hot, measured pants against your ear.

“too big for you?” he asks, voice strained but still carrying that solemn edge, even as he grinds deep and holds you there for a heartbeat, letting you feel how completely he fills you.

your only answer is a broken moan and loled nod, nails digging into his shoulders through his shirt, legs tightening around his waist as another wave of overstimulation starts building fast. he does not slow down. he just keeps lifting and dropping you onto every thick inch, eyebrows still knitted in concentration, eyes flicking between your slack mouth and the way your body takes him so greedily.

his shirt keeps getting in the way, bunching up between both of you, so he shifts his grip, one hand sliding up to yank the fabric higher until it is completely off of him, exposing his sweaty chest completely to the cool air and your half-focused stare.

now there is nothing between you but sweat-slick skin and the relentless drag of his cock stretching you open. he leans in, mouth finding your neck, teeth grazing the sensitive skin while he hammers into you harder, the angle shifting so the head of his cock bullies that perfect spot with every upward thrust. your smaller frame jolts in his arms with each powerful stroke, pussy clenching tight around the thick length splitting you apart, and nanami groans low and deep, the sound rumbling through his chest as he feels you start to flutter around him again.

he keeps you pinned against the wall like that, towering over you, strong arms never tiring as he fucks you deep and steady, the size difference so stark it makes your head spin. every time he bottoms out his hips grind against your clit, the pressure on your lower belly from the inside making everything feel tighter, fuller, more overwhelming.

you are already close again, thighs shaking around his waist, voice cracking on his name, and nanami just holds you there, determined eyes locked on your face while he drives you closer to the edge with every heavy thrust, determined to feel you come around his cock before he lets himself follow.

nanami’s rhythm starts to falter just a little, hips snapping up with shorter, more desperate strokes while his breath comes hot and ragged against the side of your neck. he can feel it building fast, that tight coil low in his gut, his heavy balls drawing up tight and aching as your pussy flutters and squeezes around every thick inch of him.

but he refuses to let go first. he is older, more controlled, and right now that control means making sure you fall apart completely before he does.

with a low grunt he shifts his grip, one big hand sliding under your ass to tilt your hips forward while the other presses flat against your lower back, forcing your spine into a deep arch that pushes your pelvis out and opens you up even more obscenely. the new angle is nasty, almost cruel, your body folded and suspended in his arms so your clit grinds hard against the base of his cock on every upward thrust and the fat head of him drags directly into that spongy spot inside you at a brutal upward curve.

your legs dangle wider, heels kicking uselessly against his lower back, the sheer size difference making you feel like you are being split open and rearranged from the inside while he holds you like a toy.

he starts hammering into you with that filthy new angle, cock bullying that spot over and over until your eyes roll back and broken sobs start spilling from your slack mouth.

the overstimulation crashes in hard and fast, your already sensitive pussy clenching and spasming around him while tears prick at the corners of your eyes and start to slip down your flushed cheeks.

your hand flies down between your bodies on instinct, palm pushing weakly at his lower stomach like you can stop the relentless drag of his cock, fingers scrabbling against the damp fabric of his white shirt. nanami’s eyes narrow, jaw tightening, and he leans in close, lips brushing the shell of your ear as he hisses the words low and dark, “do that again and i’ll fucking hurt you good.”

the threat hits you like a live wire. your whole body seizes, a choked cry tearing from your throat, and then you are squirting hard around his cock, hot fluid gushing out in messy pulses that soak his jeans, drip down his balls, and splatter onto the floor beneath you.

nanami groans deep and filthy at the feeling, the wet heat flooding around him making his cock twitch violently inside you. he does not slow down. if anything he fucks you harder, hips snapping up with wet, punishing slaps while his free hand slides between your bodies and starts tracing tight, relentless infinity signs over your swollen clit with two thick fingers. the pressure is mean and perfect, circling and dragging in that figure-eight pattern while he keeps pounding into that nasty folded angle, cock bullying your g-spot and his fingers never letting up on your overstimulated clit.

“i know, baby, i know,” he rasps against your ear, voice hoarse and strained, the words almost soothing even as he wrecks you. “you can take it. just let it happen.” your legs shake violently around his waist, tears streaming freely now, little hiccuping sobs mixing with the wet squelch of your pussy taking every brutal thrust.

nanami keeps that freaky rhythm going, hips rolling deep, fingers drawing those endless infinity loops over your clit until your vision whites out and another shattering orgasm rips through you, pussy clamping down so hard it almost forces him out. he hisses through his teeth, sweat dripping from his brow onto your chest, but he powers through it, fucking you straight through the peak and into the trembling aftershocks.

his own control finally snaps. his balls tighten almost painfully, cock swelling even thicker inside your fluttering walls as he buries himself to the hilt one last time, grinding deep while thick, hot ropes of cum flood you. he comes with a low, broken groan that vibrates through his chest, pulsing hard and endless, filling you so full that it starts leaking out around his cock in creamy white streaks every time he gives one last shallow thrust.

the mess is everywhere, your squirt and his cum dripping down your thighs, soaking the front of his jeans and pooling on the floor, the obscene wet sounds slowly fading as he keeps you pinned against the wall, still buried deep, both of you heaving for air.

nanami’s forehead drops to your shoulder, breathing hard, the last energy well spent, showing of with both of your sweat-soaked body mixing with the sharp smell of sex filling the room. his arms stay locked around you, holding your smaller frame effortlessly even as his cock twitches with the last weak spurts inside you.

for a long moment the only sounds are your shaky sobs and his ragged breathing, bodies trembling together in the aftermath, messy and spent and still connected. he does not pull out yet. he just keeps you there, suspended in his arms, the quiet weight of everything that just happened settling heavy between you while his cum continues to leak slowly out around where he is still buried deep.

nanami stays buried inside you for what feels like forever, thick cock still twitching with the last lazy pulses while warm cum slowly leaks out around where your bodies are joined, dripping down your thighs and onto the floor in messy little trails.

your legs are still wrapped around his waist, trembling, heels digging weakly into his lower back like you cannot quite let go yet, and he keeps holding you up without any effort, strong arms locked under your ass, keeping your smaller frame suspended against the wall like it is the most natural thing in the world. your shaky little sobs eventually quiet into soft, hiccuping breaths, tears drying on your cheeks, but the overstimulation still makes your pussy flutter weakly around him every few seconds, milking out another thin trickle of his cum.

finally he shifts, a low groan rumbling in his chest as he carefully pulls out, the wet sound loud and obscene in the quiet room.

a thick glob of his cum follows immediately, sliding out of your swollen, puffy pussy and running down to join the mess already pooled beneath you. he lowers you gently until your feet touch the floor, but your legs are too shaky to hold you, so he keeps one arm banded around your waist, steadying you against his chest while his other hand tucks himself back into his briefs and jeans with a quiet zip.

the white button-up is wrinkled and damp with sweat when he puts it back on, black jeans dark at the front from your squirt, but he still looks put-together in that quiet, solemn way of his, even now.

he does not say anything at first. just looks down at you with those dark, heavy eyes, thumb brushing slow circles on your bare hip like he cannot quite stop touching you. then he exhales, long and tired, and rests his forehead against yours for a brief second.

“this…” his voice comes out rough, low, almost reluctant. “this can’t happen again.”

the words hang between you, simple and final, even as his hand lingers on your skin and his cum continues to drip slowly down the inside of your thigh.

he presses one last, almost gentle kiss to your temple, the kind of kiss that feels heavier than any promise, before he steps back. his fingers flex once at his sides like he is fighting the urge to pull you close again, then he turns toward the door, shoulders straight, footsteps quiet on the floor.

“get some rest,” he murmurs without looking back, the manly scent of him still clinging to your skin. “and… call the building manager about the router next time.”

the door clicks shut behind him, leaving you standing there naked and trembling in the middle of your living room, thighs sticky, pussy aching and full of him, the quiet weight of what just happened settling deep in your chest. you know he means it. you also know, deep down, that neither of you really believes it.

well y’all i had to claw my nails onto a wall to storm this idea so it better do good or you’re not hearing from me again.. (i’m literally posting in few hours again 😛)

[tootiecakes234]

I am a fuckijg mess😭 this man needs to be real immediately!

[coventina2001]

Going Once, going twice

Evan Buckley

The ballroom buzzed with noise — music, laughter, paddles slapping against palms as bids climbed higher and higher. The LAFD’s annual firefighter charity auction had always been chaotic, but tonight it felt even louder.

Probably because of the woman sitting three rows back.

You leaned comfortably in your chair, legs crossed, a drink in one hand and your bidding paddle resting against your knee. Your eyes were glued to the stage with an almost dangerous kind of excitement.

Because this year?

Your boyfriend was one of the firefighters being auctioned.

You had politely declined when someone suggested you should participate too. Tonight was the guys’ turn to be auctioned off, and you were perfectly happy sitting back and supporting your team—and your boyfriend.

And you had absolutely no intention of letting anyone else win him.

Across the room, the firefighters from the 118 were gathered near the side of the stage watching the chaos unfold.

Eddie nudged Buck with his elbow.

“You see that look on her face?”

Buck glanced toward the crowd — and immediately spotted you.

You were smiling.

Not a normal smile either.

That mischievous one.

The one that usually meant Buck was about to be dragged into something.

Which, to be fair, had happened many, many times at the firehouse when you were bored and Buck ended up your very willing victim.

At your table, Maddie leaned closer to Athena when she noticed the look on your face.

“Oh she’s about to bankrupt somebody.”

Chimney laughed from beside her.

“No, she’s about to bankrupt herself.”

Buck rubbed the back of his neck, already embarrassed.

On stage, the auctioneer finished up with the previous firefighter.

“Alright folks! Next up we have—”

Buck sighed.

“—Evan Buck Buckley from Station 118!”

The room erupted in cheers.

Buck jogged up onto the stage, smiling politely at the crowd, trying to pretend he didn’t already know exactly what was about to happen.

Because the second he stepped under the lights…

Your paddle lifted.

Calm.

Confident.

Ready.

The auctioneer grinned.

“Starting bid — fifty dollars!”

A paddle shot up somewhere in the back.

“Fifty!”

Another voice called out.

“Seventy-five!”

You didn’t even hesitate.

Your paddle went up.

“One hundred.”

Buck shifted his weight on stage, already rubbing the back of his neck again. His eyes flicked toward you and you gave him a tiny little wave.

The crowd laughed.

The auctioneer leaned forward dramatically.

“Oh ho! Looks like someone knows what she wants tonight!”

Another paddle rose.

“One-fifty!”

Your paddle lifted again immediately.

“Two hundred.”

Buck closed his eyes for half a second.

The bids continued.

“Two-fifty!”

You raised your paddle again.

“Three hundred.”

People started turning in their chairs now, realizing what was happening.

Hen crossed her arms, amused.

“She’s not playing around.”

Another bidder tried again.

“Three-fifty!”

You didn’t even blink.

Your paddle lifted.

“Five hundred.”

The room exploded.

Buck looked like he wanted the floor to swallow him whole.

Someone behind you shouted, “Damn!”

The auctioneer laughed loudly into the mic.

“Well alright then!”

Buck covered his face briefly with one hand while the crowd roared.

Another brave bidder lifted their paddle.

“Five-fifty!”

You leaned back in your chair… took a casual sip of your drink…

Then raised your paddle again.

“One thousand.”

Buck’s head snapped up.

The crowd went wild now, cheering and clapping like it was a sporting event.

The auctioneer wiped imaginary sweat off his forehead.

“Do I hear eleven hundred?!”

Silence.

The other bidders slowly lowered their paddles.

You sat there looking completely satisfied.

The auctioneer raised his gavel.

“One thousand dollars going once…”

Buck looked down at you from the stage, his ears bright red but a grin creeping onto his face.

“…going twice…”

You lifted your glass toward him in a little toast.

“Sold!”

The gavel slammed.

The room erupted in applause again.

Buck shook his head, laughing as he stepped off the stage.

By the time he reached your table, you were already standing.

His hands landed on his hips.

“You just spent a thousand dollars on me.”

You shrugged, completely unbothered.

“Worth it.”

Buck huffed out a laugh.

[tootiecakes234]

I would’ve gone 10 grand for this man🤭

[gojosconsort]

pls maybe do choso who’s soooo needy and like creams his pants while eating out reader like he’s a top tier munch

mdni. choso eating you out and creams himself.

“choso,” you breathe, fingers sliding into his hair. “slow down a little, baby.”

he makes a broken sound against you—half whine, half growl—and shakes his head no without pulling off. if anything he dives in deeper. flat tongue dragging from your entrance all the way up, then sealing his lips around your clit and sucking like he’s trying to pull your soul out through it.

your hips jump. he moans so loud the vibration shoots straight up your spine. you feel the way his whole body shudders. he’s humping the mattress slow and helpless, cock trapped in his sweats, already leaking through the grey fabric.

you glance down. there’s a dark wet spot spreading right over the thick outline of him. he’s so hard it looks painful, head flushed dark and pushing against the waistband. every time he grinds down a little more pre leaks out, soaking him further.

“fuck—you’re already close?” you tease.

he doesn’t answer with words. just whimpers into your pussy and starts tongue-fucking you. long, messy strokes inside, curling up to hit that spot that makes your toes curl. his nose bumps your clit on every thrust.

his hips keep rolling. small, needy thrusts against the bed like he can’t help it. the wet patch grows bigger. you can see the way the head of his cock keeps kicking inside the cotton, smearing more mess every time he ruts forward.

“choso—look at you,” you murmur, tugging his hair to make him glance up.

his eyes are glassy, pupils blown, cheeks flushed crimson. lips swollen and shiny with you. “please,” he rasps. “please let me—i need to make you come, need it so bad—”

he dives back down before you can answer, sucking your clit hard while two thick fingers slide inside you. they crook immediately, pressing right where you’re sensitive. his tongue flicks side to side over your clit at the same time and it’s too much. your back bows. thighs clamp around his head. “oh god—choso—”

he moans like he’s the one getting off. loud, broken, muffled against your cunt. his fingers speed up, curling harder, and his hips stutter against the mattress—once, twice—then he’s coming.

you feel it happen; a choked sob vibrating right into your clit. hot pulses soak through his sweats, the wet spot blooming huge and dark now. he keeps grinding through it, shallow little jerks, riding out the orgasm while he never stops eating you.

you yank at his hair so tight he whines into your pussy. waves crash through you, slick coating his chin, dripping down his throat. he drinks it all, tongue still working, slower now, lapping you through the aftershocks like he can’t bear to stop.

when you finally push his head away he’s panting, lips glossy and red. the front of his sweats is a mess—fabric clinging transparently to his softening cock, come still leaking in weak spurts.

he looks up at you with those big, dazed eyes. “sorry,” he mumbles. “couldn’t—couldn’t hold it. you taste so fucking good i—”

you cut him off by pulling him up, kissing the taste of yourself off his tongue. he melts into it, whimpering against your mouth. “again?” he asks. “please—wanna do it again. wanna make you come on my tongue.”

you laugh softly, thumb brushing over his sensitive head through the fabric. “then get back down.” and he groans like you’ve just offered him heaven.

[owwllly]

gentlmen higuruma and nanami

[tootiecakes234]

You guys must stop writing these Toji fics please😭

Yall write him so good that I forget he KILLED CHILDREN! Stop it! For my sanity😩

[cathnospam]

You have a very bad habit of falling asleep RIGHT after orgasm and Bakugo hates it.

Okay, I’m lying he doesn’t hate it, but it’s something he noticed very quickly when you started to get more intimate.

At first he assumed since it was your first time with him you’d do so, second and third time he was a bit rougher with you because he was experimenting new moves with you, but this is the 4th time you’ve done this; have a very over drawn out and loud orgasm and not too long after your eyes begin to get heavy.

You lay beside him for a moment in his arms muttering how much you love him, he kisses your forehead before heading to clean you up, but by the time he gets back you’re sound asleep. He honestly thinks if he didn’t cum before you he wouldn’t have gotten off at all.

All of this is not necessarily an ISSUE. It’s not something he is angry at you for, but he wonders for a moment do you fall asleep to avoid talking to him? Are you embarrassed? Bakugo never slept with anybody that does this so it’s new for him just as it’s all new for you still.

He notices that sometimes you do try to fight the exhaustion from you specifically after cumming from just foreplay, eyes getting heavy, voice getting weak. However, the moment you both finish together while he’s inside you, a small whimper and moan of his name soon trails off to silence, it’s as if somebody knocked you out completely.

It scared him AT FIRST, he shook you awake, but all you did was half heartily giggle and snuggle back into the pillow he soon replaced with his arms for you.

Most men would usually feel a level of pride, being able to fuck you asleep, and he does for a moment but in all honesty he wants a little more—-more of you afterwards.

He’s greedy for this, but he wants you awake, for a little bit. He wants to talk to you, make sure you’re okay, you felt good, a few more kisses . It was because you were a virgin not too long ago and wanted to see if everything was okay for you, but now…

Bakugo’s greedy what can he say.

He’s developed a level of addiction towards you he doesn’t necessarily want to end once the steamy night is over . So this weekend after your date he wants to maybe be more gentle with you, and that he was.

That night you were basically a pillow princess, you didn’t get to do a thing, it was all Bakugo putting in the work for you; feather like kisses, making sure you were more than ready for him to be inside you, talking you through it. Somehow he was more tender than you first time.

“‘Suki…”

“Good girl, let it out…just like that, yeah..”

You cling to his sweaty body that hovered over you, just for a moment. Closing the distance he had you in a bear hug with one arm, biting his lip , fighting the urge to slam himself deeper when he’s feeling your thighs twitch around his hip.

The orgasm washed over your body like a mellow wave, back arched, and eyes rolled back you fall onto some pillows with shallowed breath.

Bakugo sits up to cup your cheek, almost as if he’s searching for something in your eyes, and he was; the sleepiness you were soon about to allow take over. You reach up unknowingly and smile, kissing his face and muttering “I love you’s” like the sap you are, but the moment you lay back down and adjust you feel yourself dosing off again—

“Wait—“ Almost as if his last desperate plea he stops you from shutting your eyes. You scrunch your eyebrows seeing him get up and throw you on his chest ontop of him. You’re a little lightheaded from the sudden movement seeing as you were on your back for an hour and giggle. “Don’t go to sleep yet.”

You didn’t understand and it showed on your face, when he noticed he sucked his teeth, cheeks flushed not only from making love, but from embarrassment, “Y’always fall asleep after sex and…I just wanted to talk to you.”

It was shocking to say the least , your hands play around his broad damp chest, tracing over the tattoo on his bicep you yawn, “I’m sorry…I um…before you I used to…use orgasms as a way of falling asleep when I couldn’t so…kinda became a habit.”

He blinks at you, trying to understand how the hell you get an orgasm without—-

“You used to play with yourself before me?”

Shyly you nod, Though his voice was laced with curiosity he smiled and nipped at his lower lip. It was hot.

He didn’t say anything after that for a moment, but he sat up to kiss you, needily, and sloppy as if what you said stirred him up again.

“I don’t mean to fall sleep right after..sorry.”

“Don’t be, I just thought you was avoiding me or somethin…”

“Never.” Fake pouting you kiss his cheek, ignoring how much hotter it got after doing so you smile, “We can take a shower right now if you want.”

“We can take a quick bath.” He gets up holding you against him on his arm as he gets you both off the bed, “I know your legs are sore, little miss i didn’t move all night.”

“You literally—“ Smacking his shoulder he snorts, “said don’t do anything tonight I gotchu!!?”

[tootiecakes234]

Woooooowwww, I feel called out and seen at the same time.😭

[madamechrissy]

Satoru and Suguru can't help but jerk it to their pretty little roommate - you.

You clearly think they're both gay - the way you run around in goddamn near next to nothing, kissing all up on their cheeks and giggling all the time. They've seen your tits, your ass, hints of your pretty cunt, to the point you're driving them fucking insane.

Even now you seem to think the two men can't hear your soft little whines as you finger your soppy little cunt, of course they do, just because they cuddle and jerk it together doesn't mean they don't want to fuck your holes </3 Clearly you don't know, that they each are spitting down on their pretty tips, both leaking pre, moaning softly as they stroke up and down.

"She's... so slutty, mnh," Satoru damn near whimpers, his head falling back, hearing your squelching cunt even through the walls. "M'gonna fuck her throat till she can't even talk."

"Nah, I'll do that first - hah," Suguru's hand wraps his cock as he twists it at the base, putting just enough pressure, his own eyes fluttering shut. "You can fuck her first."

"Was there a question? Of c-course I will, gonna fill her with so much cum... mnh..." he's imagining it now, running his thumb over his tip, not realizing you've gone quiet over there. "You can fuck it back into her."

"You can lick my cum from her," the thought of that has Satoru Gojo crying out, adam's apple bobbing as his head rests on that head board, when suddenly, the door cracks open.

"Oh," you pause now, seeing the two men you live with with huge, veiny cocks in hand, you had a feeling they may be gay but this definitely cemented the status. "I'm sorry I couldn't sleep..."

"We're not gay!?" They both shout it, you laugh softly, stepping inside, just a little crop top and panties - slutty as always.

"It's so cool dude, like seriously, I was... doing the same."

They pause and look at each other now, then back at you, Suguru smirks lazily, and Satoru's lips part, as they resume stroking themselves. Your body reacts, tummy clenching, dark spot forming where you're soaking wet.

"We could help each other out, right?" Satoru's words are soft, you look down to see his pink tipped cock just twitch. "C'mere sweetheart."

"But you two-"

"Come here," Suguru's a little more firm, you want to protest - you're not a homewrecker!? But when you're on their bed and stroking Suguru, with Satoru guiding your head down?

You sort of forget that statement.

Sucking Satoru Gojo as he whimpers, tasting his sweet pre on your tongue, hearing his little sucks of breaths, it's hard to remember that he must be in love with Suguru. Not when his pretty blue eyes just look at you like that, eerie even in the dark, fucking your throat with the messiest sounds, all while leaning forward, slipping two long fingers in your cunt.

You turn and spit on Suguru's cock now, tongue lapping it from the base, his hands grip your hair and pull, hips bucking up to fuck your throat until you can't think. Your thighs press together as you suck him down, his balls heavy and already full of cum, the two of them whispering your name.

"We're n-not gay," Satoru says again, Suguru snorts at that, looking down at you with lidded eyes. "Mnh, we love pussy."

"We do love pussy," Suguru agrees, you almost laugh, pulling up for just a moment, lips swollen from wrapping around their lengths.

"You all jerk off in the same bed?"

"And!?"

"Do you all kiss?"

"Just as practice," Satoru mumbles, you giggle again, leaned up on your knees, both cocks in your hands.

"You can practice with me if you want," Satoru snatches your face up and slams his lips, just a bit messy and unpracticed, tasting Suguru's cock on your lips. Suguru's kissing up your neck, letting you grind on one of his thighs until it's coated in your slick. "You're a good kisser, Satoru."

"Really?" You nod, he's grinning all cute, making your cunt clench as much as your heart flutters. You turn and kiss Suguru, clearly a bit more practiced, moaning softly as their hands each grip one of your tits, thumbs brushing on your nipples.

"So I wouldn't be a homewrecker if I..." you stroke them again, watching their lashes flutter shut.

"N-no, he's right," Suguru mumbles drunkenly.

"We were jerking it to your slutty pussy," your attention is back on Satoru, who's thumbing right near your clit - not quite there, but he's got the right idea. "Thinking of how we'll share you."

"Oh?" You're stroking faster, grinding on that thigh Suguru presses up for you, kissing each of them as Satoru eventually finds the twitchy little thing underneath your panties. "Tell me."

"F-first we'll fuck your mouth, your pussy, your ass," you giggle then, Gojo glares. "I'm serious."

"We'll split you in half," Suguru's words make your heart race, his fingers splayed on your bare tummy, eyes gone black as you stroke his twitching cock. "Ruin your holes, fill them with so much cum you can't think."

"That's hot Sugu," Satoru admits, blushing now and leaking even more pre in your hold.

"It is," you whisper, kissing Suguru again, making Satoru pout, yanking you back and earning your giggle.

"Till we can see ourselves moving inside you," fuck... you gasp at the little change in Satoru's eyes, the way he smirks a little more sure.

"That was hot Toru," you whisper, his patterns pushing you over the edge. Your eyes are rolling back, fluttering shut as you stroke faster, feeling them close. "Why don't you two cum for me?"

It takes just one more stroke and both of your roommates - who totally love pussy and apparently aren't gay - are busting ropes and ropes into your hands, so much it spurts all the way across your body.

Well, what a mess you are, but Satoru and Suguru make sure to clean you up, to lick every bit of cum from your body, all the white ropes that circle over your skin. They're being gentlemen after all - it's totally not gay if they like each other's taste. It's just what best friends do.

****

sry this was a dream I had hehehe

[tootiecakes234]

I wish my dreams were this steamy🤤

[lovelyruins]

pro hero privileges ⋆✴︎˚｡⋆

prohero!katsuki x fem reader

synopsis: you accidentaly call your boyfriend by his hero name while fucking

warnings: 18+mdni, smut, dirty talk, slight degradation, established relationship

the apartment is dark when katsuki gets home at 11:23 p.m., only the soft glow from the streetlights sneaking through the blinds.

he kicks the door shut harder than necessary—still wired from patrol, gauntlets left at the agency, mask stuffed in his pocket, black compression shirt soaked with sweat and clinging to every hard line of muscle. he smells like smoke, concrete, and the sharp bite of his explosions.

you’re on the couch, legs tucked under you, scrolling on your phone in one of his old hoodies that swallows you whole. you look up when he enters, eyes lighting up in that quiet way that always makes something in his chest loosen.

“hey,” you say softly. “long night?”

he grunts. drops his keys on the counter. stalks over.

“too fuckin’ long.”

he doesn’t sit. just looms over you for a second, then grabs your ankles, yanks you flat on your back across the couch cushions. the hoodie rides up your thighs. he settles between your legs, knees sinking into the cushions, caging you in.

his mouth crashes into yours. hungry. desperate. teeth and tongue and the faint taste of mint gum he chews after fights.

you moan into it. hands flying to his shoulders, nails digging through the damp fabric.

he breaks the kiss only to rip the hoodie over your head, toss it somewhere behind him. then his mouth is on your neck—sucking, biting, leaving marks no one else will see under your clothes tomorrow.

“been thinkin’ about this all night,” he growls against your collarbone. “fuckin’ villains, fuckin’ reporters—couldn’t stop picturing you like this.”

his hand slides down, under your shorts, fingers finding you already soaked.

“shit,” he hisses. “ready for me before i even got home?”

you nod, breathless. “couldn’t help it… kept thinking about you too.”

he groans. shoves your shorts and panties down in one rough tug. frees himself—thick, hard, flushed dark at the tip.

he doesn’t bother with teasing tonight.

lines up. pushes in with one deep, hard thrust.

you cry out. back arching off the cushions.

he starts moving immediately—fast, rough, hips snapping forward like he’s trying to fuck the entire patrol out of his system.

the couch creaks under you. your legs wrap around his waist, heels digging into his lower back.

“katsuki—” you gasp, voice high and needy.

he smirks down at you, red eyes dark with want. kisses you hard again, swallowing every little sound.

another thrust. deeper. harder.

your head falls back against the armrest. eyes fluttering shut.

“f-fuck—dynamight—”

the name slips out. soft. breathy. completely unintentional.

he freezes mid-thrust.

you freeze too.

the living room is suddenly very quiet except for your shared heavy breathing.

then he laughs—low, rough, dangerous. the sound vibrates through you.

“the hell did you just call me?” voice wrecked. amused. so turned on it’s almost painful.

your face burns. you try to hide it against his shoulder.

“i—i didn’t mean—”

“bullshit,” he cuts you off, rolling his hips forward slow, deliberate, making you feel every inch. “say it again.”

you whimper. thighs trembling.

he grips your jaw. gentle but firm. tilts your face up so you have to look at him.

“say it,” he repeats. “say my hero name while i’m fuckin’ you stupid on our couch.”

your walls flutter around him. hard.

you swallow. voice shaking.

“dynamight…”

he growls—real, feral—and starts moving again.

harder. faster. brutal.

the couch rocks with every snap of his hips. cushions sliding under you.

“louder,” he demands. “let the neighbors hear who owns this pussy.”

“dynamight—fuck—dynamight—!”

every time the name leaves your lips he drives in deeper. hits that spot that makes stars burst behind your eyes.

his hand slips between you. thumb on your clit. rubbing fast. rough.

“come on,” he pants against your ear. “come screaming for dynamight. come all over my cock like a good fuckin’ fan.”

you shatter.

hard.

crying out “dynamight!” as your orgasm crashes through you. walls pulsing. legs shaking. clinging to him like he’s your lifeline.

he follows right after—few more punishing thrusts, then burying himself deep with a guttural groan. spilling hot and thick inside you.

for a long moment you just lie there. panting. tangled. the couch cushions a mess beneath you.

he kisses your temple. soft. almost sweet.

then, smug as hell against your ear:

“next time you call me that, i’m fuckin’ you in the hero suit. mask and all.”

you laugh—breathless, flushed, happy.

he smirks.

pulls you closer.

the night’s still young.

and dynamight’s definitely not done with you yet. ♡

[tootiecakes234]

So hot🤤

[owwllly]

pick one higuruma or nanami

[swoopyswish]

i love when random tumblr users find my blog and go through it liking and reblogging everything in a frenzy, it feels like i’ve been cultivating a nice backyard with a lovely birdbath and feeder and i’ve glanced out the window to see a bird going absolutely wild with it

[dabislittlemouse]

first episode he appeared vs last one 💔

[soontobeover]

☆ threesome with boyfriend sukuna ! and bestfriend choso !

warnings: pwp: threesomes (mfm): rough sex: oral (m/f receiving): face fucking: throat bulging: creampie: overstimulation: sex under the influence (a little tipsy): dom!sukuna: sub!choso: switch!reader: praise kink, hair pulling etc.

a/n: this is what one joint, bisexuality and three glasses of wine does to you. i don't like this that much, but it is what it is.

—

when you got with sukuna, you didn’t know he liked men too.

not that he was ashamed—no, sukuna didn't do shame– he just genuinely didn't care enough to bring it up until it was relevant. you remembered the exact moment he'd told you: both of you sprawled out on his bed, talking about something, his fingers tracing idle circles on your thigh while some trashy reality show played in the background.

"yeah, i fucked boys too," he'd said like he was commenting on the weather.

you just shrugged. "cool".

and that was that.

then there was choso.

choso– your best friend since forever, the guy who'd held your hair back after your first college party and let your cry into his hoodie when your ex ghosted you– also liked boys. you'd known that for years. he was pansexual, openly so, and you'd celebrated his coming out with cheap wine and cheesy rom-coms in your pajamas.

but lately—lately, his gaze lingered on you a little too long.

and sukuna noticed.

it wasn’t surprising that choso watched you. you were pretty. a fucking meal. but when sukuna caught choso’s eyes flicking to him—to the way his muscles flexed under his tank top, to the way his tattoos curled around his biceps—well.

that was interesting.

sukuna wasn’t offended. if anything, he looked amused.

"your best friend’s got a crush," he murmured against your neck later that night.

"on who?"

sukuna laughed, low and rough. "both of us."

you just laughed at that. choso? having a crush on both of you? pffffft. yeah, right.

but then—

the idea lingered.

like a slow-burning spark you couldn’t shake, settling low in your stomach. you noticed things now, little things, subtle things, that made your throat tighten when you hung out with choso.

like how his gaze snagged when sukuna stretched after the gym, his shirt riding up to reveal the carved lines of his stomach.

or how when you bent over to grab something off the floor, you'd catch choso's eyes flickering down– just once– before he cleared his throat and looked away.

you told yourself it was nothing. just your mind playing tricks.

—

it started as a joke.

at least, that’s what you told yourself.

sukuna, ever the fucking menace, upped the ante. he’d purposely flex when choso was around, rolling his shoulders back just to watch choso’s nostrils flare or making you wear only your panties under his big t-shirt. he'd sling an arm around your waist, pulling you close—just to see choso’s knuckles whiten around his beer bottle.

and then—

then came the touch.

a brush of sukuna’s fingers against choso’s wrist when he passed him a drink. a lingering grip on his shoulder, just a second too long to be casual.

choso flinched every time. like he’d been burned.

and you—

you watched.

you shivered.

because the worst part?

you liked it.

—

and it was supposed to stay a joke.

just teasing. just fun.

but then the drinks kept coming, and the party got louder, and somewhere between sukuna's hand sliding up your thigh and choso's hushed "fuck–" when you licked off salt of his wrist–

things got serious.

your back presses against the headboard, skin sticking to the wood. you’re down to just your panties—black lace, the ones sukuna loves and your tits are bare, nipples hard from the cold.

sukuna sits at the edge of the bed, shirt long gone, his abs flexing as he leans back on his palms. the ink curling over his skin is mesmerizing. black tendrils wrapping around his arms and his chest.

and choso–

choso is standing in the doorway, fingers gripping the frame like he might bolt. his dark eyes dart between you and sukuna, pupils blown wide. he's still fully dressed, but his jeans are tight enough you can see the outline of his cock straining against the denim.

so fucking cute.

sukuna laughs, low and rough. “you just gonna stand there?”

choso swallows. hard.

"come on" sukuna murmurs, voice thick with challenge.

and choso—god—choso obeys.

sukuna meets him halfway, rising from the edge of the bed to stand in front of him, close enough that their chest nearly brush.

"clothes off"

your breath stutters.

choso hesitates– just for a second– before reaching for the hem of his shirt. the fabric slides over his head. revealing smooth skin, lean muscle and–

fuck.

his nipple piercings.

you knew about then of course– had seen glint of the metal of his shirt when he stretched. but now under the dim bedroom light they're impossible to ignore. silver rings, catching the glow as his chest rises with uneven breaths.

you hear sukuna suck in a sharp breath, biting his own lip.

choso doesn't stop there. his hands go to his belt next, then his pants, shoving them down his hips until they pool at his feet, boxers following along. he kicks them aside, standing there completely bare and hard, cock flushed pink at the tip, curving slightly toward his stomach.

pretty.

the word floats through your mind before you can stop it.

sukuna exhales, slow and rough, eyes raking over choso’s body.

choso meets his gaze, defiant– but his breath hitches when sukuna reaches out, calloused fingers skimming over one of his nipple rings.

"you been waiting for this?"

choso doesn't answer.

but his cock twitches– and you whimper.

sukuna looks back at you, catches your gaze, and smirks.

then without warning he grabs choso by the hair and yanks him forward.

choso barely has time to gasp before sukuna’s mouth is on him, rough, all teeth and tongue, sucking choso’s bottom lip between his own like he wants to devour him. sukuna kisses like he fucks– dominant, demanding.

you freeze.

your boyfriend—your sukuna—kissing your best friend.

choso’s hands fly up, gripping sukuna’s shoulders—not pushing him away, no, pulling him closer. his moan is muffled against sukuna’s mouth, high and desperate.

and you—

fuck.

you clench your thighs together, your panties sticking to your soaked pussy. the sight of them, sukuna’s tattooed hands tangled in choso’s dark hair, choso’s pierced nipples brushing against sukuna’s chest—sends a jolt of heat straight to your core.

sukuna pulls back just enough to growl, "look at her."

choso turns his head, lips swollen, eyes hazy and sees you.

"she’s dripping," sukuna murmurs against choso’s jaw. "think she likes watching us?"

choso’s breath stutters.

then sukuna peels off his boxers with a lazy smirk, letting them drop to the floor.

you and choso both look down at the same time.

god.

sukuna’s cock is heavy, thick and flushed against his thigh, already wet at the tip. choso’s breath hitches, low and wrecked, and you can’t help it. you crawl toward them, hips swaying, until you’re right at the edge of the bed, kneeling between them.

they both look down at you, choso’s breath shallow, sukuna’s gaze burning.

you don’t move, just stare up at them through your lashes, tongue darting out to wet your bottom lip.

sukuna steps behind choso, taller, broader, his cock pressing hot against choso’s back. choso fingers twitch at his sides until sukuna grips his wrist and guides his hand to his own cock, forcing him to hold himself steady.

now choso’s erection is right in front of your face, pretty, pink- tipped, twitching under your breath.

you lick your lips again.

choso chokes on a groan.

he hasn't even been touched yet, and he's already in fucking heaven.

your fucking stare, your breasts, your lips, sukuna’s cock, sukuna’s voice, sukuna's hands. it's just too much for choso.

sukuna leans down, lips brushing his ear, looking at you over choso’s shoulder, his voice a low, filthy rumble , "so fucking pretty, isn’t she?"

choso nods, desperate.

"so pretty," he whispers hoarsely.

he's right—you are.

sukuna grins. "yeah? tell her."

choso inhales, his eyes finding yours.

"so pretty," he repeats—soft and ragged.

your breath staggers, chest heaving with it.

sukuna grins. "good boy."

choso bucks his hips at the praise, a sharp, involuntary, jerk that drags the flushed tip of his cock against your cheek, leaving a slick streak behind.

sukuna laughs, deep and delighted. "fuck, you're easy"

you bite your lip to stifle your own smile, but it's useless. your grin breaks through anyway, cheeks flushing even hotter.

choso is–

fuck.

choso is so cute like this, flushed and trembling, his usual composed demeanor shattered. and hot—god, so fucking hot—with his cock twitching against your face, his pierced nipples pebbled tight.

sukuna tsks, tilting choso's chin back with his hand. "she's enjoying this way too much" he muses, nodding at your smirking lips. "think she deserves a taste yet?"

choso whines, high and broken, and you finally give in.

your tongue darts out, kitten-licking the flushed head of his cock, and choso chokes.

sukuna's grin is feral.

you take choso's cockhead into your mouth, swirling your tongue around the flushed tip, soaking in his taste, salty, musky, perfect. a moan bubbles up from your throat, vibrating against his sensitive skin.

choso gasps, his head falling back against sukuna's shoulder. "f-fuck—"

sukuna chuckles, dark and amused, watching you. his hands roam choso's chest, fingers pinching a pierced nipple, twisting just enough to make choso arch off his chest, cock sliding deeper into your mouth.

"she's good, isn't she?"

choso's breath comes in ragged pants, one hand gripping sukuna’s thick thigh and the other one in your hair. he's gone, lost in sensation—his pierced nipples throbbing under sukuna's touch, your mouth hot and wet around him.

sukuna tightens his grip, rolling the metal bar between his fingers. "isn't she?" he repeats, firmer this time.

choso whimpers, hips stuttering. "y-yeah," he chokes out, "so—so fucking good."

sukuna smirks, dragging his free hand down choso's stomach, teasing the trail of hair leading lower. "want her to take all of you?"

choso nods, frantic.

you moan around him, begging without words.

sukuna laughs. "then fuck her mouth."

but what sukuna meant by that was gripping choso' s waist, hard, digging into the sharp jut of his hips as he forces him all backkkkk and then forward, thrusting him all the way into your mouth.

your eyes roll back, tears pricking at the corners as you gag around the sudden stretch, throat fluttering around the thick intrusion.

choso gasps, the other hand on sukuna's thigh joining the other in your hair, fingers tangling tight—but he doesn’t pull you away. he can’t. sukuna’s grip is ironclad, controlling every shallow grind of his hips, keeping him buried deep.

“fuck—” choso chokes, voice wrecked.

“she’s taking it so well,” sukuna murmurs, “look at her.”

choso’s gaze snaps down. and the sight of you, lips stretched wide, drool slicking your chin, eyes pleading, makes him whimper. sukuna smirks, rolling choso’s hips in slow, filthy circles, letting him feel every inch of your warmth.

“can’t even think straight, can you?” (ha) sukuna taunts, fingers pressing bruises into choso’s skin.

choso shakes his head, dazed.

you moan around him again, vibrating—and sukuna laughs.

“good.”

it doesn’t take long for choso—not with the way your lips stretch around him, slick and sinful, not with sukuna’s cock pressed hot against the small of his back, his hands gripping choso’s hips just tight enough to bruise.

choso’s breath hitches, stutters—then shatters.

"f-fuck—i'm—"

his orgasm crashes into him hard, hips jerking as he spills deep into your throat, pulsing in thick, hot streaks. your eyes water, swallowing instinctively, but sukuna doesn’t let him pull away—no, he holds choso there, fucking his cock into your mouth through every last shuddering twitch.

choso whines, knees buckling, but sukuna’s grip is relentless, keeping him upright, his body trembling but standing.

you let go of choso with a pop, a slick string of saliva connecting your lips to the flushed head of his cock, breaking as you pant.

choso whimpers, sagging against sukuna. he looks wrecked, face flushed, eyes glassy, lips swollen. but you—

you look hungry, gaze locked on them both, your chest heaving.

sukuna chuckles, low and rasping. "you need more?"

you nod, biting your lip to stifle a giggling exhale, giddy, drunk on the sight of choso trembling against sukuna.

sukuna’s smirk sharpens. "take ‘em off," he orders, nodding at your panties.

you do.

the fabric peels away, soaked through, your thighs slick with arousal, the scent of you thick in the air. you let yourself fall back against the mattress, legs parting slowly, giving them both a perfect view of where you need them most.

choso’s breath catches.

sukuna nudges him forward with a rough hand on his shoulder. "go on," he murmurs, voice dark. "eat."

choso’s knees hit the bed—thud—like a dog obeying sukuna’s command. his dark eyes lock onto your pretty pussy, lips parting as he exhales, ragged.

he spreads your thighs wider with trembling hands, fingers pressing into your soft skin, and—fuck—you lick your lips at the hunger in his gaze.

then he lowers himself.

his nose brushes your wet folds first, inhaling deep, your arousal, your heat, and he whimpers, a broken little sound that shoots straight to your core.

then his tongue drags up your slit, slow, savoring, and you jolt, hips bucking off the bed.

"fuck—!"

sukuna watches, arms crossed, eyes glowing with approval as choso worships you—tongue lapping at your clit, lips sucking gently, moans vibrating against you.

choso’s tongue turns desperate—frantic, wet laps against your swollen clit, his fingers digging into your thighs as he devours you like he’s starving.

you thrash, head thrown back, pleasure white-hot, so lost in the sensation you don’t even notice sukuna sliding onto the bed beside you, until his mouth crashes into yours.

the kiss is rough, possessive, sukuna’s tongue claiming yours, teeth nipping at your bottom lip. you can barely kiss back, whimpering against his mouth as choso’s tongue flicks just right, sending sparks up your spine.

choso watches, gaze locked on the way sukuna dominates your lips, and moans directly into your pussy, the vibration wringing a shriek from your throat.

sukuna smirks into the kiss, then yanks your head back by your hair, forcing your gaze to his.

"you like it, baby?" he growls, thumb swiping over your spit-slick lip.

all you can do is nod, gasping.

you fucking love it.

sukuna releases your hair—only to turn his attention to choso.

choso looks up at you both, lips glistening, eyes dark with need. sukuna reaches down, almost tenderly, brushing a few damp strands from choso’s forehead—before his fingers tighten in his hair, yanking him back against your pussy with a snarl.

"do it right," sukuna orders, dragging choso’s tongue in slow, brutal stripes up and down your folds.

choso chokes, but doesn’t resist—his mouth sloppy, drooling against your clit as sukuna controls every movement, forcing him to lick harder, deeper.

he's guiding choso up, down, up. each pass sloppier that the last, your thighs quivering against his head.

"that’s it," he purrs. "make her come."

choso drives you over the edge, his tongue lashing your clit in relentless, perfect circles as sukuna’s grip in his hair keeps him locked against you.

your orgasm crashes into you like a wave—violent, electric, your thighs clamping around choso’s head as you sob, back bowing off the bed.

choso drinks you in, lips sealed tight to your pussy as you pulse against his tongue, whining desperately into your heat like he’s addicted to the taste.

sukuna watches, pupils blown wide, his other hand sliding down to palm his own cock at the sight of you falling apart.

"fuck," he rasps.

sukuna’s grip tightens in choso’s hair, dragging him up from between your thighs—his face flushed, lips shiny with your wetness, eyes glazed with lust. sweat trickles down the back of his neck, his chest heaving as sukuna pulls him higher, up your trembling body.

you don’t wait.

the second choso’s lips are close enough, you crash into him, kissing him hard, tasting yourself on his tongue. choso groans, collapsing against you, his cock, still hard, leaking—sliding against your slick folds in one delicious, unbearable grind.

sukuna laughs above you both, dark and possessive, one hand still fisted in choso’s hair, the other trailing down your side.

"fuck, look at you," he murmurs. "both of you—needy."

choso whimpers into your mouth, hips stuttering.

you arch beneath him.

sukuna grins.

"guess I’ll have to fix that."

sukuna joins the kiss, all teeth and tongue, his lips crashing against yours and choso’s in a messy, filthy tangle. it’s hot, it’s sloppy, and it sends sparks shooting straight down your spine.

then sukuna manhandles choso, flipping him onto his back in one brutal motion. choso’s head now dangles off the edge of the bed, legs sprawled toward the headboard, his cock hard and aching against his stomach.

"you know what to do," sukuna murmurs to you, voice dripping with dark promise.

you don’t hesitate.

you straddle choso, sinking down just enough to feel his tip slide against your dripping pussy. his eyes fly open, wide and desperate, as he stares up at you, lips parted, chest heaving. it hurts to keep his head up like this, but anything to see you. anything.

your breasts sway above him, nipples peaked, and choso whimpers, hands scrambling at your thighs.

sukuna laughs behind you, fingers tracing your spine.

"go on," he purrs. "ride him."

you slide down in one smooth motion—taking choso to the hilt, his cock stretching you perfectly.

choso’s head falls back, dangling off the bed again, lips parted in a silent scream as blood rushes to his head, but he doesn’t need to think, not when you’re already moving.

you ride him, rolling your hips up slow, teasing, before slamming back down hard.

"ah!"

your moan melts into the air as choso gasps, hands scrambling at your waist, his cock twitching inside you. his eyes roll back, toes curling, his pierced nipples glistening with sweat.

sukuna watches, his own cock heavy in his hand, stroking lazily as he drinks in the sight.

"that’s it," he growls. "break him."

you grind down, deliberate, and choso sobs.

"so good for me choso"

choso's back arches off the bed, a broken gasp tearing from his throat.

you're fucking yourself on his cock with abandon, thighs quivering with the effort.

when choso manages to pry his eyes open—dazed, unfocused, his gaze lands directly on sukuna's thick cock hovering inches from his face. sukuna looks down at him with hooded eyes, biting his own lip as his fist pumps lazily over his length, the swollen head smearing pre-cum across choso's flushed cheekbone.

"open," sukuna rasps, and choso does, lips parting instinctively.

sukuna feeds his cock into choso's mouth in one smooth thrust—deep, until the outline of him bulges obscenely in choso's throat. choso gags, eyes watering, but sukuna doesn't let up—just holds himself there, letting choso feel every thick inch as you continue riding him, your pussy clenching around his cock in tandem with every choked swallow.

choso's neck stretched around sukuna's girth, his cock buried inside you, makes you moan, nails digging into choso's hips as you chase your own pleasure, fucking yourself onto him harder, faster.

sukuna groans, "fuck—take it," he snarls, and pulls out—only to shove back in, fucking choso's throat in time with your desperate rhythm.

choso moans, low, guttural, vibrating around sukuna’s cock and then he’s coming, hips jerking wildly beneath you as he spills deep inside your clenching walls. his pierced nipples stand taut, his abs quivering as his orgasm rips through him, eyes rolling back in pure ecstasy.

the sound, that broken, muffled whimper pushes you over the edge.

you scream, back arching, pussy gripping choso’s cock like a vice as your own orgasm crashes over you in waves. pleasure burns through your veins, your thighs trembling around him, your nails digging crescent moons into his hips.

choso chokes around sukuna’s cock, throat fluttering wildly—and that—the desperate clench of his lips, the way his tears smear across his cheeks, the way you're still shaking on top of choso, the way you look at him like a desperate slut is too much for sukuna.

"fuck—!"

sukuna groans, fingers yanking choso’s hair hard as he pumps his cock into that wet heat one last time—before pulling out just enough to spill hot and thick across choso’s tongue, his lips, his chin.

choso swallows weakly—dazed, ruined—as sukuna strokes himself through the last pulses, his cum dripping onto choso’s flushed skin.

—

and minutes after you can catch your breath sukuna flips you onto your hands and knees, his hands gripping your hips hard as he slams into you from behind, no warning, no mercy, his cock stretching you wide.

"nghh!" you cry out, nails clawing at the sheets.

your pussy is oversensitive, every drag of sukuna’s thick length sending electric shocks through your nerves, but you crave it, hips pushing back against him, begging for more.

choso lies sprawled on the bed beside you, one hand lazily stroking his already-hard-again cock, eyes glazed as he watches sukuna pound into you, each brutal thrust making your tits bounce, your ass clap against sukuna’s thighs.

"god—fuck," choso moans, his fist moving faster. "you—you look so good—"

sukuna grunts, his pace relentless, his fingers digging bruises into your skin. "yeah? she looks good doesn't she?" he growls, hips snapping harder.

choso nods, desperate, precum beading at his tip. "y-yeah—fuck—"

sukuna laughs, dark and satisfied.

"ah—ah—!" you gasp, drool smearing the sheets beneath you.

choso watches, lips parted, his hand a blur over his cock, fucking up into his fist with desperate, jerky motions. "mmf—f-fuck—"

sukuna grins, fingers gripping your hair as he drives into you harder. "she takes dick so fucking good," he growls, voice dripping with pride.

the praise sends a fresh wave of heat through you, your moan high-pitched, broken.

choso thrashes, head thrown back, hips bucking wildly as he chases his own pleasure. "g-god—yes—"

sukuna laughs, breath ragged. "look at her," he snarls, snapping his hips harder. "look at how pretty she is– ruined on my cock."

choso whimpers and cums, his release splattering across his stomach as he shudders, eyes locked on you.

you sob, pleasure coiling tight in your belly, again. ready to snap.

your orgasm hits you like a tidal wave, body convulsing as you squirt around sukuna’s cock, the slick gush soaking his thighs, the sheets beneath you. your vision whites out, screams muffled against the mattress as pleasure wrecks you completely.

sukuna growls, his thrusts turning rough, uncontrolled—and then he’s pumping into you one last time, his cock pulsing as he spills deep inside, his groan raw against your ear.

"fuck—take it," he snarls, hips grinding against your ass as he rides out his climax.

choso breaths hard from the bed, still trembling from his own release, eyes glazed as he watches sukuna fill you.

the room is silent except for your ragged breathing—all three of you spent, drenched in sweat and cum and each other.

[tootiecakes234]

A duo I never knew I needed….. to take🤤🤏🏾🫡

[allthingswhumpyandangsty]

ao3 turns 16 today.

reblog if you’re older than archive of our own

[solarsdiary]

reminding myself that 7 kudos is 7 different people who have read my story and actually liked it

and idk about you but if 7 people came up to me in real life and said “hey we really liked your writing” i would just cry on the spot

[megandmaira]

        Sex addiction? Me?

                         Featuring Nanami Kento

Synopsis: In which you're convinced the copious amounts of sex you and your husband have will be detrimental to you both in the long run. You're both practically addicted! Your darling husband is inclined to disagree, and when you challenge him to a bet of abstinence, he humours you. The notion is utterly ridiculous. He's the epitome of self-control and mental fortitude. He couldn't really be addicted... Right? Content warnings: Fem reader, Nanami Kento x Reader, brief Gojo appearance, fluff, crack, excessive horniness, porn with plot, mentions of masturbation, grindin' and humpin' (yeehaw), rough sex, missionary, mating press, pussy eating, creampie, nothing too crazy, just a man pining for his wife Word Count: 4034 (yikes bestie. soz.) © 2025 megandmaira. Do not steal, copy, translate or rewrite our works. All rights reserved.

"Do you think we have sex too often?"

Nanami stilled his movements at the kitchen sink, a bowl full of suds still perched in his hand. He turned to look at you with an arched brow. You sat idly at the kitchen table, nose stuck to your phone as if you hadn't just asked such a bizarre question. Nanami waited a moment for you to elaborate, sighing through his nose when you didn't.

"How do you mean?" he asked, placing the dish down and wiping his soapy hands on a dishtowel.

"I mean, I've been thinking about it. And I think we might be addicted to sex," you explained, finally looking up at him with a seriousness that was borderline comical.

Your dear husband gave you a look, one you'd become quite familiar with over the years. It was halfway between fondness and exasperation, with maybe just a pinch of disbelief. After all, this wasn't the first time you had managed to render him speechless. Nanami reckons he'd be used to you by now, but you always managed to surprise him. Never a dull day with his wife, that's for sure.

"That's ridiculous," Nanami mumbled, shaking his head slightly.

"No, it isn't, Ken. Hear me out. Think of a day this month where you haven't rocked my shit back to front?" you insisted, eyes now solely on him.

Nanami rolled his eyes at your choice of wording. But now that you mentioned it, you got him thinking. There hadn't been a single day that month where he hadn't, for lack of better words, "rocked your shit back to front. "

"Exactly!" you exclaimed, reading his mind. You looked at him expectantly, arms crossed as if you had already won this impromptu debate.

"Just because we make love more often than most doesn't mean we're sex addicts addicts, [Y/N]. It means we're in love. In tune. In-"

"-sane," you interrupted, fighting back a snicker as you watched him roll his eyes.

"Where has this even come from? You certainly weren't complaining last night," he murmured, amusement twinkling in his eyes as the tips of your ears burned hot.

"I mean, obviously not. But women talk, you know? Jenna in finance says she and her husband only do it once a week," you said solemnly, drumming your fingers against the marble countertop.

"Once a week?" Nanami frowned softly, as if the very notion disgusted him to his core.

"Right?! In comparison, our habits are obscene. Perhaps we've been too gluttonous in our pursuits," you exclaimed, chewing on your bottom lip in thought.

"Perhaps Jenna from finance needs a new husband," he scoffed, leaning against the countertop. Once a week? How did they survive?

You snorted, focusing on your phone once again. But the cogs in your mind were already spinning. Kento noticed, as he always did. Pushing off the counter, he walked toward the stool you were sitting on and gently pried the phone from your hands.

"Are you concerned? Or perhaps a bit... tired of our activities?" he asked gently, not a hint of judgement in his tone. Perhaps he'd been excessive and greedy, taking at your expense. Maybe you were worn. The thought concerned him. He hadn't even considered it a possibility until that point.

You waved him off, your eyes widening at what he was was alluding to.

"Christ of Nazareth, no. Are you joking? I love a good fuck, you know that. I'm just saying, we're totally addicted. I doubt you could even go a day without sex," you teased, wiggling your brows at him.

He scoffed amusedly.

"You're joking right?

"Oh, I'm fully serious, babe," you huffed softly, a wry smile on your lips. "I'd give you 1 week tops."

He cocked a brow, and with a defiant smirk, he countered, "Is that right? Well, I'll raise you. 1 month. Guaranteed you'll fold well before I've even gotten started."

"You reckon?' you smiled slyly. He gave you a nod, a small smile lifting at the corners of his mouth.

"Yeah. Wanna bet?"

· · ─ ·✶· ─ · ·

1 week and 3 days

The symmetry of sex was often one underappreciated. Sweaty bodies in tandem with one another, fitting together like destined puzzle pieces, drawing pleasure while giving it simultaneously. Like an intricate machine, the instructions of which predates human consciousness. Sex was a holy poem. A sacred hymn.

And if Kento didn't get his dick wet soon, he was certain he'd lose his mind.

It had been a week since the little bet. Or maybe longer. He honestly didn't know. Nanami could swear he had gone off his rocker, his brain cells deteriorating with every slow tick of the clock. It was as if all the blood that usually flowed to his dick on the daily rushed to his brain instead, his synapses collapsing under the pressure.

Was he even allowed a quick tug? Oh, he didn't know. He was much too old to be pondering the parameters of a sex bet he made with his wife.

How in the hell did he ever survive without you? Prior to your relationship, Nanami had weathered through months of celibacy. His job had barely afforded him any time to foster meaningful relationships, and quite frankly, modern hookup culture disgusted him. So he had preferred to decline all opportunities for genuine human intimacy. He felt it easier that way. He once thought of his abstinence as a testament to his mental fortitude and unwavering self-control. In fact, Nanami wouldn't be lying if he said he had felt a sense of superiority to his peers who indulged every superfluous whim like simple-minded animals. He had thought himself better than most.

Then came you. A splash of colour to an otherwise dull canvas, illuminating him from within and unearthing desires he once thought long buried under the stress and despair that came with being a sorcerer. Love had been but a concept to him until your fateful encounter all those years ago. Nanami hadn't known how miserable he truly was until you became an everyday staple. You were like a brilliant ray of sunlight, bringing joy to his life and thawing his cold heart and unutilized cock.

As a result of his dependence on you, his own personal antidepressant, Nanami expected you to display a similar sense of neediness. A dissonance that mirrored his own. By now, Nanami had expected you to be a mess. A whining, pouty little thing, begging for release with that saccharine tone that had his stomach lurching in anticipation. Wanton eyes reflecting a lust much similar to his own, one he would indulge as if he were your saviour, delivering you from strain and not the other way around. At the very least, he assumed you would be snappy. Irritated and moody, just like he was.

But no. Oh no.

You were the picture of serenity. Your demeanour collected and smile unwavering. Each day that week, you left for work as usual and returned somehow even more cheery, pecking his cheek sweetly while his cock begged for the same attention. You were a tranquil brook, water flowing undisrupted, while he raged like a turbulent sea.

It sickened him how unaffected you were. He felt as if his mind had been corrupted, the pipework corroded, spilling his pent-up desire into corners of his body that it didn't belong in. Like his hands. Were they usually clenched this tight? Or his jaw. Did it always tick so frequently with aggravation?

The worst part was that you didn't even have to try to rile him up. Smile at him? Rock hard. A whiff of your expensive perfume? Leaking into his trousers. Fixing his tie in the morning? Balls aching with the need to breed you thoroughly.

It wasn't fair, especially when you made it so difficult without even realizing. Your charm was effortless. Like earlier today, wearing shorts that had him questioning why it was he'd even agreed to this stupid bet. Was he even lucid at the time of discussion? What in the hell was wrong with him?

Later that evening, recently fed and freshly showered, you climbed into bed with your grumpy husband. With a chaste kiss to the tip of his nose, you turned over to sleep, your back facing him.

"Night baby," you murmured sleepily.

"Night," Kento mumbled, arms crossed and face pouty.

Not even a whiff of arousal on your part. How insulting, he thought bitterly. At this point, he would gnaw on your panties like chewing gum if you allowed him to do so. The thought sent a shiver down his spine.

Nanami gave it a minute before moving to lie behind you, one beefy arm loosely draped around your middle. You sighed contentedly, moving closer to the warmth he provided. Nanami swore he saw heaven when the fat of your arse brushed against his aching groin.

Discreetly, he shifted his hips, coming to a slow, torturous grind - barely perceptible really. He battled a groan that threatened to bubble up his throat. How degrading, honestly. A married man grinding against his wife's clothed arse instead of fucking into her sopping cunt as the good lord intended. A personal all-time low for Nanami Kento.

He managed to get away with his teenage gyrations for about a minute before you noticed, turning to give him a surprised smirk. Your facial expression had his face turning red, like a boy with his hand caught in the cookie jar.

"Nanami Kento. Folding already?" you taunted, giving him a once over. You spied the defined cock print in his sweats, the sight having you lick your lips.

"If it's too hard dear, just admit you were wrong. That you are, in fact, addicted. I'll take care of you nice and good, lovie. Promise," you cooed, giving him a smug look.

Kento huffed, as if the mere sound could dispel the embarrassment he felt.

"Tch, as if. I was merely getting comfortable. It's not my fault your backside takes half the bed," he said, turning around with all the sass of a disgruntled wife. You laughed softly, amused by his tone.

"Is that so? So you weren't grinding against me like a mutt in heat? If that's the case, then I'm so sorry. Come back here and let's cuddle," you said dryly, patting the space beside you.

"No, it's alright [Y/N]. I just didn't know you thought of your husband as such a leper."

The cheek in his voice had you wheezing with laughter, the perfect backdrop to his miserable attempt at getting off. Cheap pride was easier than admitting defeat, but at this point, perhaps he'd already lost...

· · ─ ·✶· ─ · ·

2 weeks and 5 days

"Heyyy. What's cookin' good lookin'?" Gojo's overly enthusiastic voice blared from your car speaker, your eyebrow twitching with fond annoyance.

"Gojo, has that line ever worked on anyone?" you asked dryly, your attention on the road as he whined dramatically into the speaker.

"There's a first time for everything, sweets. Don't be a debbie downer!" he exclaimed. You could practically hear the pout in his voice.

"Hmm. Sure," you responded with a soft smile.

"Why are you even calling me anyway, Gojo? It's unlike you to detach your head from your anal cavity long enough to think about anyone else," you joked, laughing softly when he gave an exasperated sigh.

"Just checking in. Seeing how you're doing. Speaking of how you're doing, have you managed to obtain a terminal illness as of late?" he asked with all the nonchalance of a man inquiring about the weather.

"What?" you asked, thoroughly confused as you took a left turn. The work day had nothing short of fried your brain. Gojo's added antics had to be a health hazard at this point.

"I mean it quite simply, [Y/N]. Please keep up. Are you terminally ill? Have you perhaps acquired a rare disease? Is your relationship on the rocks, maybe? Oooh, have you found a newer, more exciting boytoy? Ah, maybe you've-"

"Gojo, what in the actual fuck are you talking about?" you cut him off, beyond lost. Gojo was known for his frivolous character and carefree speech, sure, but the nature of this conversation seemed strange even for him. Where had all this come from?

"So, just to clarify, nothing has changed between you Nanamin?" he questioned slowly, as if speaking to a child.

You rolled your eyes heavily, and with a disgruntled scoff, answered, "No, Gojo. Not that I'm aware of, at least. Why?"

"I don't understand then! Nanami has been insufferable lately! As in full pissy diva mode! He's even worse than when he was in high school with that horrendous emo "gonna kill myself" trim!" Gojo whined out, and much to your vexation, continued to rant about how Nanami had "reverted back to his loser depressive persona" and how "immediate intervention needed to take place."

"-and today, he exorcised a curse with soo much aggression, I actually felt a bit bad for the bastard. Like, actually thundercunted it into the wall until its head exploded! Oh, and don't get me started on last Tuesday when he-"

"Gojo, forgive me for interrupting your psychotic ramblings, but when did this all start?" you asked, realisation dawning on you with a giddy sense of triumph.

"Uhh, the kids reckon about 2 weeks ago? Though, it's hard to pinpoint anything with him. His expression is dreadfully constant," Gojo sighed dramatically, his revelation further confirming your sneaky suspicion.

"Well, don't you worry, Gojo. Come tomorrow, he'll be a happy camper. Mark my words."

And with that, you hung up, a smug smile fixed permanently to your lips. You sped up your car, home but a mere 5 minutes away. You had a husband to see to.

· · ─ ·✶· ─ · ·

Humiliation wore a tan suit and a yellow-black bespeckled tie. At least today it did. After losing his cool in front of the first years, and almost costing them the mission, Nanami spent the rest of the day lurking in his office, drowning his sorrows in vending machine cold brew.

How disgraceful. A senior sorcerer having his backside saved by a student was never a good feeling. He was supposed to guide his pupils, be a steady pillar upon which they could always lean. Instead, he'd gotten bested by a barely there special grade curse. Like a special grade loser.

With a heavy sigh, he entered your shared home. Kicking off his shoes and hanging his coat, he walked to the bedroom, hoping to find you. It ends tonight. He would lay his pride at your feet with the utmost joy if it meant getting just a whiff of your pussy. Scratch that, even just a gander. He'd settle for a peak. Maybe if he were extra good, you'd spare him your used panties. A man could only dream.

He pushed the door open, steeling himself for the stinging slap of shame his admission of defeat would bring, only to stop dead in his tracks at the sight before him. Nanami inhaled sharply, his heart rate spiking at the sight of you splayed on the bed, dressed in nothing but the sheer periwinkle lace set you'd surprised him with for his birthday last year. Nanami forgot all social cues, an unintelligible gurgling sound forming at the back of his throat instead of words. He cleared his throat, cock already at half mast and straining against the material of his slacks.

"Darling, do you not think it cruel to tease me so?" he managed, teeth clenched. He watched through lidded eyes as you slowly sat up, one divine leg crossing over the other.

"No teasing, Ken. Come here," you said, voice sweet as you opened your arms invitingly, beckoning him like a siren at sea. And Kento was more than happy to drown.

He took a hesitant step forward, and with a gulp, asked, " What of the bet?"

He eyed you suspiciously, his intense desire giving way to a brief hesitation. Were you tricking him? Was this a ruse? A cruel glimpse at heaven before the rug was pulled?

Sensing his apprehension, you laughed sweetly, a cloying sound that stuck tacky to his inner ear drum. You slowly walked toward him, his eyes fixed on you like a deer caught in headlights. With an innocent smile that belied the filth your eyes held, you gently slid your hand up his clothed chest. In a split second, you had his tie wrapped between your fingers, tugging him down so your face was but an inch away from his.

"I expected a bit more enthusiasm, Ken. I have to say I'm quite disappointed. If you want to wait until the month is up, I under-"

His lips crashed onto yours with a hunger so intense, it had you stumbling back, sentence half spoken and jest dissolved on your tongue like sugar. Nanami's mouth dominated yours, swallowing any remaining faux sympathy you had to hurtle toward him. Kento wasn't an idiot. His brain may have been reduced to mush by the sheer density of horniness coursing through his veins, but he could tell you hadn't truly lost. Your control had not reached its brim. You were giving in. For him. And he loved you for it.

Nanami guided you back toward the bed, shoving you down as gently as he could. His usually precise and gentle movements had turned into something much more desperate. More primal. More carnal. He moved with the urgency of a man starved, one who had just been presented with a king's feast. His hands did not know gentleness. Not when his stomach was empty.

Nanami licked sloppily down your throat, pearly strings of saliva connecting his tongue to your heated skin. You bit back a moan as he all but shoved his face in between your breasts, mouthing at the soft skin of your tits as if he were actually trying to eat you.

With a fervour that bordered on animalistic, his large hands palmed at the spillage of fat from the edges of your sinful lace bra, smushing it towards his face and grunting like an animal in heat as he suffocated himself in you. Your scent, your skin, your sweat... all of it intoxicating in its nature.

"Kento..."

Your whine spurred him out of his lust-drunk haze. He pulled off your now spit-soaked skin with a wet pop! and continued his journey down your midriff, red mouth-shaped bruises blooming in his wake. You writhed under his attentive mouth, no inch of your abdomen spared from the hot caress of his eager tongue.

Nanami rimmed your navel before moving down and finally reaching the apex of your thighs. He breathed a sigh of relief. The war was over. He was finally home. Without another wasted second, he not so ceremoniously spread your thighs apart and stuffed his face into your clothed cunt, taking the most obscene sniff ever.

You fought a giggle through a groan as he rutted his face back and forth, shamelessly and unabashedly taking your scent in. He began sloppily lapping at your folds through your periwinkle panties, the material turning sheer from his spit. His tongue caught on your clit through your undies, the soft material rubbing deliciously against your clit as you moaned his name sweetly.

Nanami made out with your sopping pussy through your panties for what seemed like hours, smearing your slick on his face as if marking himself. As if bathing himself in his favourite scent, ensuring you marked your territory appropriately. He did belong to you, after all.

You came within minutes of his desperate ministrations, your thighs shaking around his head as he lapped at your juices like the good boy he was. His name was like a sacred song on your tongue as you chanted it over and over. A sound he treasured and had missed these past two weeks. With one final kiss to the top of your clothed mound, he stood and undid his buckle with a soft click.

Nanami's pants fell to the floor with a soft whoosh, his boxers following not even a second later. Through bleary eyes, you managed to look up at him. His leaky cock was stiff and at full attention, his balls heavy and swollen between his legs. You gulped, the sight itself so erotic it was borderline orgasmic. Nanami walked toward you, face determined as his hand softly stroked his length, eyes fixed on the outline of your pretty pussy wrapped in lace.

"Fuck," he whispered, sliding the flimsy material to the side. He gave your pussy a soft smack, earning a soft squeal from you. Nanami slid his length through the sticky warmth of your folds, groaning softly at the sweet sensation of his skin on yours. His leaking cockhead snagged against your fluttering hole - once, twice, thrice...

With a broken gasp, Nanami pushed inside you, the muscles of his abdomen stuttering in absolute pleasure as he did so. You moaned softly, looking at him aggrieved as he stilled, his teeth clenched and brows furrowed. Nanami knew that if he moved too brashly, he would spill his seed in a matter of seconds. After a moment, and a brief pep talk in the palace of his mind, Nanami began thrusting forward slowly, his right hand moving to squeeze at the base of his cock as he sank fully into the inviting heat of your cunt.

"Fuck, I didn't think she'd remember me. It's been so long," he breathed out, his thrusts slowly increasing in speed.

"It's been 2 and a half weeks, Ken," you giggled breathlessly, your hand moving down to toy with your neglected clit. Nanami's eyes followed your lithe fingers with hawk-like precision, groaning when they made contact with your sticky pearl.

"2 weeks akin to torture at the hands of Satan himself," he managed, his jaw aching from the force at which it was clenched. Nanami maneuvered your legs over his shoulders, leaning toward you so that your ears wore your kneecaps as accessories.

He had you in the meanest mating press, the sting of which burned deliciously in your stomach. This new position helped him drill his cock into your aching cunt at a punishing rate, each thrust personally ensuring that a little more air was knocked from your lungs. Your nails raked angry red marks down the vanilla expanse of his broad back, the corded muscles lying just beneath his skin tautening with effort as his hips rolled against your pelvis with the intent of undoing you completely.

Your moans and his gasps were a unified symphony of passion and devotion. Nanami leaned his sweaty forehead against yours, his tongue prodding at the seam of your lips, begging entry. You parted your lips, accepting his tongue as it danced alongside yours, his hips stuttering and balls tightening. He was close.

"I can't believe I thought myself above this. The only thing I ever want to be above is you," Nanami gasped against your lips, his swollen cockhead battering against your cervix, like a delivery was about to be made. And if you kept squeezing around him like that, it would arrive sooner rather than later.

"I'm addicted. You were right. I'm fucking addicted and no amount of rehabilitation will ever get the taste of you off of my tongue. Fuck, I'm yours. All fucking yours..."

His ramblings died down against your neck as he finally came in a choir of harsh groans, cum gushing against your cervix with every stuttered thrust his hips had to offer. You moaned alongside him, tears slipping down your cheeks from the intense pleasure he afforded you. Nanami collapsed on top of you, his movements finally stilling as his last bit of spend dribbled out inside you.

You held him close, your harsh breathing in tandem with his own as you rode out the waves of pleasure together. Nanami gasped harshly against your neck, licking at the sweat beading on your flushed skin. You raked your fingers through his hair, whispering sweet nothings into his ear as you both caught your breath. After a while, cock still planted firmly within you, he looked up at you with a boyish grin.

"Wanna go again?"

Zooweemama. Our first ever oneshot. Applause from the crowd please...*crickets*

Ahem, anyway. This was long. Just like his dick.

Do let us know if this was, at all, enjoyable. Thanks for reading allat.

Check out Duke Kento here

Smut over here

[tootiecakes234]

Clawing at the walls of my enclosure!

I’m addicted to this man and he ain’t even real🫠

[keikei0052]

So Dynamight wasn't the best boss. He knew running an agency was a difficult job, and as much as he liked to think he grew from his much angrier past, he still had a lot to learn. He gets cold, he gets snappy, and when things get really stressful, he sometimes shuts everything—everyone—out.

That's where you came in. You admired Dynamight and you wanted to do some good by helping him, so you joined at around the infancy of the company. You, in all your most competent glory, were a blessing. You were the best PA anyone could ask for. The best employee, in general. You faced his unique personality head on, took all the challenges in stride, even played the biggest role in the growth of his agency.

You often had to deal with the consequences of his decisions. You've lost count of the amount of times you butt heads with his new hires, all of which were given a chance because they simply believed they could surpass the great Dynamight. Apparently, he admires that quality in people, but not all of them turn out to be the best people.

"No, no, please," You say politely, heels clicking against the tiled floors as you approached one of the new heroes in the lounge. "Please refrain from putting your feet on the coffee tables. It's unsanitary."

The man simply stared back at you, completely unperturbed. "My feet ain't dirty, lady."

You sighed and adjusted the thick folder in your arms, trying not to spill the coffee in your right hand. "No, but your shoes are. Please— Oh my, don't do that!"

What seemed to be the man's friend had just kicked the vending machine, a dent now visible at the base. "This thing broken or something? Not a good look for one of the top hero agencies, just sayin'."

Most days you could only talk on the phone, and even then you could hardly get a word out before he's spouting instructions.

"—add Creati's baby shower to my calendar and get a gift. You decide on it. Don't know what you're supposed to bring to those things."

You let out the nth sigh for the day, quickly putting your things down to scribble a reminder. "Got it. Uh, could I schedule—"

"Did you finish the report on the kidnapping? I need it by this afternoon."

"Yes, sir. It's on your desk. Also, I'd like to—"

"And show the new guys around. You know the drill. There's a list of things to do on the system if they're not preoccupied."

You bit back a retort. "Yes, and about them—"

"Just message me whatever it is. Gotta go."

And on the days you did see him, you were sure you got blisters from having to constantly march around after him.

"Sir," You damn near heaved, swiping through your tablet. "This conference is extremely important and they're very insistent on having you there. You already skipped the past two years."

The blond scoffs, biting into a protein bar you'd handed him after he burst into his office through the window. Typical Dynamight entrance. "I have ongoing jobs that actually involve saving people. Me attending next year won't kill them"

But they'll kill me, you thought. The old higher-ups have been hounding you for weeks in advance.

You were ripped out of your thoughts when your face collided with his solid back. He'd stopped to grab some drink from the vending machine, not even noticing the damage at the bottom caused by one of his rookies, nor the fact you'd damn near broken your nose from hitting him.

"Oh, and tell Pinky to get off my ass," He adds gruffly, grabbing his chosen drink before walking off again. You curse and quickly run after him. "Not doin' a dumb commercial. Call Mr. Sparkly for that."

"You won't even consider it?"

"I've considered no."

"But she said—"

"And I said no. Get it off my schedule."

You glared at those toned traps as your finger repeatedly pressed backspace on the tablet. "A renowned journalist would like an interview."

"Did you think sayin' they're renowned would convince me to go and talk to them?" The hero practically spat back as you two entered his office. "Told you I don't do that shit anymore. They already know what I want them to know. Got nothin' else to say."

"Well, I was hoping you'd take the opportunity considering your last interview ended in disas—"

Katsuki whips around to face you, making you flinch. For the first time in a while, you finally meet those infamous crimson eyes. He cocks his head at you. "What was that?" He dares, tone sardonic as he bares his canines.

Your mouth clamps shut, eyes falling to your tablet. You weren't scared, no. God knows you're more than used to this. You were more worried about who would face the brunt of his frustrations later on if this conversation escalated. You shook your head lightly.

"That's what I thought." It would be nice to dig your stiletto heel into his foot for once. Just once. "We're done here."

You lifted your head. He'd been back for 5 minutes! You had a dozen things you needed to talk to him about. "But I still—"

"We're done here," He cuts you off, louder and raspier. His back is already turned to you, hand fumbling with his gauntlets. You tried not to chuck your tablet at his head. Not like it was your money to waste, anyway.

...

But you knew what you were signing up for when you applied, yes? You were familiar with his reputation, and you knew it wouldn't be a walk in the park. You understood, and you didn't hold his prickly attitude against him, right? At least he wasn't cruel.

So why?

You looked up from your computer, pausing on the planner you were writing on for Red Riot agency's upcoming anniversary celebration. You felt a weird prickle at the back of your neck. Your coworkers were busy and there was no one on the sidewalk below.

You were being watched.

Then, movement. You turned to the apartment building to your right, located across the street. Most of the windows were either boarded up or had closed curtains. No, wait. You were sure something on the roof moved. You stared for a while, eyes narrowing and waiting for something. Or someone? You didn't know.

After a while, you decided you'd lay off the coffee and went straight back to choosing balloons for the party.

...

Katsuki felt like a creep.

This was an objective downgrade from being his PA. He could see you at your spot within Red Riot's headquarters, desk right next to a big window. He wasn't spying, alright? He just so happened to be hanging out on the rundown roof of some apartment building, one littered with bird shit and abandoned potted plants. It just so happened to have the perfect view into your space, with a nearby HVAC unit he could hide behind just in case.

Your cubicle was small, and you've stayed there for most of your shift. Yes, he's been watching for a few hours. What's so wrong with that? He's taken the day off, anyway. You didn't seem to have as important of a job as before, which probably meant lower pay. You don't get to walk around as much, either, and you're surrounded by way too many people for his liking (a grand total of 3 other cubicles).

You left his agency for this? Left him? What, the fancy office with the mini fridge and comfy couch, paired with either heating or air-conditioning wasn't enough? Again, you could have just said so.

But you didn't, which meant those weren't your issues.

He let out deep groan, running a hand over his face.

"What the hell am I gonna do?" The words came out grumbled under his breath, directed at no one else but the pigeon that's been sitting next to him for some time. The bird cooed at him, bulging eyes staring him down intently.

Katsuki nodded, as if understanding. "Yeah, you're right. Can't sit around and mope, that's for sure. I'll figure it out. I always do." He huffed, finally rising to his feet and giving you one last look.

"I'll get you back."

That's a promise.

.

.

.

Taglist:

@tootiecakes234 @zaiban2989

[tootiecakes234]

Babes we are so up!!!!!!!! We got a backstory and progress on part two!!!

Never say wishes can’t be granted🥳