note : i saw comments about this and i couldn't help but think, "yum" and decided to write it !!1
choso was curled up on the couch when you got home, one arm wrapped tight around his middle, the other buried in the cushions like he was trying to disappear into them. The tv was on but muted. His face was pale, lips pressed into a thin line, and every few seconds a small, involuntary sound slipped out of him.
“Cramps again?”
He didn’t open his eyes. “Yeah. Bad. Medicine hasn’t… hasn’t done anything yet.”
You sat down hard enough that the couch dipped, forcing his body to shift toward you. Your hand landed on his thigh and squeezed, not gentle. It pained you just seeing choso in pain.
“ let me help you, cho.”
choso’s eyes opened. A flush crawled up his neck. “I… I can just wait it out.”
“I didn’t ask you to wait. I said let me help.”
He hesitated, fingers twitching at the waistband of his sweatpants. You watched him swallow, then slowly push them down along with his underwear. The second the fabric cleared his hips he tried to close his thighs. You shoved them open with both hands and held them there.
Thick dark curls covered his folds that were already shiny with blood and slick. The smell of iron hit you immediately.
choso turned his face into the pillow, “Don’t… don’t look so much.”
“I’ll look as long as I want.” You dragged two fingers through the mess between his legs, teasingly slow, and held them up so he could see the red. “Look at you. Already leaking all over yourself.”
He made a small, embarrassed sound and tried to close his legs again. You kept them spread.
“You want me to make it stop hurting or not?”
“…Yes.”
“Then ask properly.”
choso’s voice was barely above a whisper. “Please… please help. With your mouth.”
You leaned in close enough that your breath hit his cunt. “Louder.”
His face was burning. “Please put your mouth on me. Please.”
You licked a long, slow stripe right through the middle of him. Choso jerked hard, a sharp little gasp escaping him. You did it again, firmer, dragging your tongue through the blood and slick until it coated your mouth. Then you sealed your lips around his clit and sucked.
choso’s hips stuttered. His hand flew down like he wanted to push you away, but he just ended up gripping your hair instead, like he was holding on for dear life.
You pulled off just long enough to speak against him. “You’re already getting wetter. And you didn't want me to help at first. Such a whore.”
He whimpered, but his hips rolled up anyway, chasing your mouth. You shoved them back down and held him still while you pushed your tongue inside him, fucking it in and out of the soft, bloody heat. Every time you pulled back to suck at his clit he made these quiet, broken sounds that he tried to muffle against the pillow.
“Stop hiding,” you said, voice flat. “I want to hear you.”
choso turned his face just enough to speak, eyes glassy. “But It's embarrasing .. feels too good. I can’t… I can’t-”
You hummed against him and sucked harder, tongue working deep at the same time. His thighs started trembling around your head. He was trying so hard to stay still and failing, constant rolls of his hips pushing his cunt against your mouth like he couldn’t help it.
“You’re soaking my face,” you told him. “Acting like a slut. Can't even speak properly either.”
chosos breath hitched. “I’m not… I’m just—”
“You are. Look at you. Spreading your legs wider every time I lick this pretty pussy. You want more, don’t you?”
He was quiet for a second, face still half-hidden, then nodded once.
“Say it.”
“…I want more. Please. More.”
You gave it to him, burying your face between his thighs and tongue fucking him properly while your nose pressed into the thick dark hair. Blood smeared across your chin and cheeks. choso’s free hand fisted in the couch cushion so hard his knuckles went white.
“fuck-- your tongue is so deep,” he whispered, voice cracking. “It feels so good I can’t think. Don’t stop. Please don’t stop.”
You kept going until his thighs locked around your head and he came with a high, stifled moan, cunt pulsing and spilling more slick and blood across your tongue. You licked him through it, not letting up until he was twitching and oversensitive.
When you finally pulled back, your mouth was a mess. Choso was staring down at you with half-lidded eyes, chest heaving, lips parted. There was a dazed, shy little look on his face like he couldn’t believe he just let you do that.
You wiped your chin with the back of your hand and looked at him.
“Still hurting?”
He nodded, quiet.
“Want me to do it again?”
Choso’s voice was small, almost ashamed, but he still said it. “Please… I need it.”
You smelled them the second you stepped inside. two thick, sweet-musk scents tangled together in the air. Satoru’s bright and almost sugary, Sugurus deeper, warmer, like rain on warm wood. It hit you low in the gut and made your cock twitch in your pants before you even saw them.
Satoru was on the couch, shirt hiked above his stomach, one hand loosely around his leaking cock like he’d been trying not to touch too much. His white ears were flat, tail lashing hard against the cushions. The second he saw you he made this broken little sound and tried to get up, but his legs wobbled.
Suguru was in the kitchen doorway, robe hanging open, long black hair messy. His ears were low, cheeks flushed dark, and there was a visible trail of slick running down the inside of one thigh. He looked like he’d been trying to hold it together with sheer will. The second your eyes met, his tail curled tight around his own leg and he exhaled shakily.
“Both of you?” you said, voice low. “At the same time?”
Satoru whined and nodded fast. “It’s bad. Really bad. I tried waiting but Suguru came out of his room and he smelled so good and then I got worse and—” He cut himself off with a soft moan when his own hand twitched on his cock.
Suguru swallowed. “I… didn’t want to bother you. But it’s not stopping. The ache. I can’t think.” His voice was quiet, rough at the edges. “If you’re tired we can—”
“I’m not tired,” you cut in gently, stepping closer. “Come here. Both of you.”
They moved at the same time. Satoru basically launched himself into your chest, tail immediately wrapping around your thigh, face buried in your neck while he rubbed his leaking cock against your hip. Suguru came slower, more hesitant, but when you reached out and cupped the back of his neck he leaned into it like he’d been waiting for permission. His purr was low and shaky.
You walked them toward the bedroom, one arm around each. “Tell me what you need,” you said. “Use your words.”
Satoru answered first, voice muffled against your throat. “Your cock. Please. I need it inside, I need to be full, it hurts so much—”
Suguru’s ears flicked. He didn’t speak right away, but when you glanced at him he met your eyes and whispered, “I need you too. I tried touching myself but it’s not enough. I keep thinking about how you feel.”
You got them on the big bed, side by side on their backs. You took your time stripping them the rest of the way—slow pulls of fabric, hands sliding over their warm skin. Satoru squirmed and whined the whole time, tail trying to drag your hand between his legs. Suguru stayed quieter but his breathing got heavier every time your fingers brushed the base of his tail or the soft skin behind his ears.
You started with your hands. Two fingers in Satoru first because he was already dripping down his thighs and begging. He arched hard, a high sound ripping out of him, ears flattening all the way back.
“Fuck—yes, yes, right there—” His tail thrashed, then wrapped around Suguru’s wrist like he needed something to hold onto. You crooked your fingers and he sobbed, cock jumping against his stomach.
You looked at Suguru while you fingered Satoru. “You okay?”
Suguru’s eyes were glassy. He nodded once, then shook his head. “I—I need it too. Please.”
You pulled your fingers out of Satoru (who whined in protest) and slid them into Suguru instead. He was just as wet, maybe more, and the second you pushed in he let out this long, shaky exhale and his whole body relaxed.
“There you go,” you murmured. “Breathe for me.”
You worked them both open like that. alternating, sometimes two fingers in each at the same time, watching the way their tails curled around each other for comfort. Satoru kept up a running commentary of needy little noises and half-begged sentences. Suguru was quieter but every time you hit the right spot inside him his ears would twitch hard and he’d let out this soft, broken purr that vibrated through the bed.
When they were both loose and dripping and begging, you finally pushed your pants down. Your cock was hard and leaking, and both of them stared like they were starving.
Satoru reached for it first. “Me first? Please? I’ll be good after, I swear, just—let me feel it first—”
You lined up with Suguru instead, slow and deliberate. “You can wait a minute,” you told Satoru, voice calm but firm. “Let me take care of him. Then you get your turn.”
Suguru’s eyes fluttered when you pushed in. He was so hot and wet around you it took effort not to just slam in. You went slow, watching his face, one hand stroking his tail base the way you knew he liked. He made this soft, relieved sound when you bottomed out.
“God—yes. Just like that. Don’t pull out yet, please…”
You rocked into him in long, deep strokes while Satoru watched, whining and touching himself, tail lashing. Every few thrusts you reached over and wrapped your hand around Satoru’s cock or slid two fingers back into him to keep him open and desperate.
“Look at you both,” you said, voice a little rough. “So fucking needy. Dripping all over the sheets. You feel so good, Suguru. So tight around me.”
Suguru moaned softly, one hand reaching out blindly until Satoru caught it and laced their fingers together. The sight of them holding onto each other while you fucked Suguru made heat curl low in your stomach.
You didn’t let Suguru come yet. You pulled out when he was close, ignoring his soft protest, and turned to Satoru.
“Your turn.”
Satoru practically threw himself onto his hands and knees, tail high and quivering, presenting so fast it would’ve been funny if he wasn’t shaking. You pushed into him in one smooth thrust and he screamed—high and broken and so loud Suguru actually laughed breathlessly beside him.
You fucked him harder than you had Suguru, one hand reaching over to stroke his cock. Satoru babbled the whole time, ears flat, pushing back into every thrust like he couldn’t get enough. Suguru watched, one hand slowly stroking his own cock, eyes dark and hungry.
When Satoru got too close you slowed down, pulled almost all the way out, and said, “Not yet.”
He whined but obeyed, trembling. You turned your head to Suguru. “Come here.”
Suguru moved without hesitation. You had him position in front of Satoru while you stayed buried in him. Then you reached and guided Suguru’s cock to Satoru’s mouth. Satoru took it greedily, moaning around it.
You started moving again—slow, deep thrusts into Satoru while he sucked Suguru. The sounds were filthy. You kept talking, low and steady.
“That’s it. Both of you. So good for me. Suguru, you can fuck his mouth a little if you want. He can take it.”
and suguru did.
careful at first, then deeper when Satoru moaned encouragement around him. You fucked Satoru through it until his whole body was shaking, then pulled out and switched to Suguru instead, repositioning him on his back. Suguru’s head fell forward with a broken moan.
You went back and forth like that for a while—fucking one while the other got attention with your hands or mouth or just watching. Every time one of them got too close you backed off, made them breathe, made them wait. The begging got louder. Satoru stopped making sense. Suguru started saying your name like a prayer every time you pushed back into him.
When you finally let them cum it was almost at the same time. You had Suguru on his back, legs wrapped around you, fucking him deep and steady while Satoru knelt beside you and jerked himself off, tail wrapped around your thigh. Suguru came first, whole body locking up, a long shaky purr ripping out of him as he clenched around your cock. You followed right after, buried deep, filling him while he held onto you and shook.
Satoru came two seconds later with a loud, broken cry, painting Suguru’s stomach and his own hand.
You stayed inside Suguru for a long minute, catching your breath, one hand petting Satoru’s ears, the other stroking Suguru’s flank. Both of them were purring now. Satoru loud and ragged, Suguru low and content.
You pulled out slow. Suguru made a soft unhappy noise at the loss. You kissed his forehead, then Satoru’s.
“Stay right there,” you murmured. “I’ll clean you both up.”
Satoru, already half-asleep and clingy, mumbled, “Don’t go far…”
Suguru just reached out and caught your wrist, eyes soft. “Thank you.”
You cleaned them gently with a warm cloth, then got water and made them drink. When you finally lay down between them they both curled in immediately—Satoru half on top of you, Suguru tucked against your side, tails draped over your legs like they were making sure you couldn’t leave.
The heat would come back later. But for now they were full and warm and purring against you, and the only sounds in the room were soft breathing and the occasional sleepy, satisfied little mewl.
You closed your eyes, one hand in white hair, the other resting on a warm striped tail, and let yourself rest.
Toji Fushiguro
Toji was on the bed, back against the headboard, one arm thrown over his eyes like he could block out the heat if he just ignored it hard enough. His tail was curled tight under him, tip twitching every few seconds. He was naked already—had probably stripped the second his heat hit. his cock was flushed dark and leaking steadily onto his stomach. Slick had soaked the sheets beneath him. every breath came out rough.
The second the door clicked he growled without moving his arm. “Out.”
You didn’t leave. You just leaned against the doorframe for a second, watching him. “Wow. Look at you.”
Toji’s arm dropped. His eyes were glassy, cheeks flushed dark under the scar. “I said—”
“Trying to tough it out all by yourself again?” you cut in, voice soft but teasing. You pushed off the door and crossed the room slow. “Such a big, tough guy… until the heat hits and you’re leaking all over your own sheets.”
He bared his teeth, but it didn’t have much bite. His tail uncurled a little when you sat on the edge of the bed. “Don’t fuckin’ baby me.”
“Too late.” You reached out and scratched behind one of his ears. Toji’s whole body jerked, then he leaned into it before he could stop himself. A low, reluctant rumble started in his chest. “Aww, there it is. You’re burning up, huh? Poor thing.”
“Shut up,” he muttered, but his eyes were already half-lidded and his tail had started curling around your wrist.
You kept petting his ear with one hand while the other slid down his chest, over the hard lines of muscle, down to where his cock was twitching against his stomach. You didn’t touch it yet—just let your fingers trail through the mess of precum and slick on his skin.
“Bet you were touching yourself before I got here,” you said, casually, like you were talking about the weather. “Trying to make it go away. Did it help?”
Toji’s ears flicked back. “No.”
“Didn’t think so.” You finally wrapped your hand around his cock, slow and loose. He hissed and his hips jerked up. “Look how wet you are already. All this slick and you’re still trying to pretend you don’t need help.”
“I don’t—” His voice cracked when you gave him one slow stroke. “Fuck—don’t tease.”
“But you’re cute when you’re all worked up and stubborn.” You leaned in and kissed the corner of his mouth. “Lie back for me.”
He grumbled the whole time but let you push him down flat on the bed. You settled between his spread thighs, running your hands up and down them, thumbs pressing into the tense muscle.
You took your time opening him up.
Two fingers first, sliding in easy with how wet he was. Toji’s head tipped back against the pillows and he let out this rough, bitten-off sound. You crooked them just right and watched his stomach jump.
“There we go,” you murmured, voice warm and a little teasing. “Feels better when you stop fighting it, doesn’t it?”
“ shut up,” he growled, but it came out breathless and his hips were already rocking down onto your fingers.
You added a third, slow and careful, and he moaned—low and rough, trying to swallow it. You stroked his cock with your other hand at the same time, just slow enough to keep him on edge.
“Look at you,” you said softly. “All that growling and now you’re pushing back on my fingers like you can’t get enough. Such a good boy when you let me take care of you.”
Toji’s ears flattened harder. “I’m not—fuck—a good boy—”
“Sure you are.” You leaned down and licked a slow stripe up his cock, then took the head into your mouth for a second, sucking lightly. He made a choked sound. You pulled off with a wet pop and smiled up at him. “See? Taking it so well for me.”
You worked him open until he was loose and dripping, four fingers easy, his hole fluttering every time you pulled back. Only then did you slick your cock and line up.
Toji’s eyes were dark and hazy when they met yours. He didn’t look away.
You pushed in slow, watching every flicker across his face. The stretch made his mouth drop open on a silent moan, ears twitching wildly. When you bottomed out he let out this long, shaky breath.
“Fuck… yeah,” he rasped. “Just like that.”
You stayed still for a second, one hand stroking his hip, the other petting slow behind his ear again. “There it is. All full now. Feels good, doesn’t it?”
He nodded once, jerky. You started moving—long, deep strokes that made his whole body rock with every thrust. Toji met you halfway at first, pushing back, but the teasing and the soft coaxing seemed to have changed something in him. After a minute his growls turned into rough, needy moans and his hands came up to grip your shoulders like he needed something to hold onto.
You kept talking, voice low and warm between thrusts.
“Look at you taking it so well. So desperate for me.” You reached down and stroked his cock in time with your hips. “You can growl and curse all you want, but your body’s honest. Dripping everywhere. Clenching around me like you never want me to pull out.”
Toji’s head tipped back, a broken sound ripping out of him. “Shut—ah—shut up—”
You didn’t. You leaned down, chest to chest, and kissed the corner of his mouth again while you fucked him a little harder. “It’s okay to need it. I’ve got you. Not going anywhere until you’re full and satisfied.”
His ears flicked at the word “ full,” You kept the pace steady and deep, hitting that spot inside him on every thrust, stroking his cock, petting his ears, murmuring soft teasing things against his skin.
When he got close you slowed down just enough to drag it out.
“Not yet,” you said gently when he whined. “Let me enjoy you a little longer. You’re so pretty like this—all flushed and shaking and trying so hard not to beg.”
Toji cursed you out, but it was weak and his hips kept trying to chase your hand. You gave him what he needed eventually—fucked him harder, stroked him faster, whispered “That’s it, cum for me, good boy” right against his ear.
He came with a deep, guttural groan, cock pulsing between you, hole clenching tight around your cock. You fucked him through it, then pushed in deep and came too, filling him while he shook and panted and finally let that low, rumbling purr out.
You stayed inside him after, both of you catching your breath. Toji’s arms were still around your shoulders. You stroked slow fingers through his hair and behind his ears, soft and soothing now.
“There you are,” you murmured. “ Knew you had it in you.”
Toji made a gruff, embarrassed sound but didn’t shove you off. If anything he pulled you closer, face tucked against your neck.
“Don’t get used to it,” he muttered, voice hoarse.
You smiled and kissed his temple. “Wouldn’t dream of it.”
Ryomen Sukuna
His door was closed, but you could hear him pacing. Heavy steps. The occasional sharp thump of his tail hitting the wall. Low, frustrated growls left him.
You knocked once. “Sukuna.”
“Go away.”
“You’re in heat.”
“I’m aware.” Another thump. “I don’t need your help. I can handle it.”
You opened the door anyway.
He was a wreck. Pink hair wild, markings standing out stark against flushed skin, ears pinned flat, tail lashing so hard it kept knocking things off his desk. His cock was hard and angry-red, leaking down his thigh, and there was slick running in shiny trails down both legs. The sheets on his bed were already in shreds from his claws.
His eyes snapped to you. (all four of them) narrowed. “I told you—”
“You’re hurting,” you said, calm, stepping inside and closing the door. “And I’m not leaving you like this.”
He bared his teeth, sharp fangs flashing, but he didn’t move when you crossed the room. Didn’t move when you reached out and touched his jaw. He leaned into it before he could stop himself, then jerked back like he’d been burned.
“Brat,” he snarled. “Touch me I’ll kill you.”
“I’m willing to risk it,” you said. You backed him toward the bed until the backs of his knees hit the mattress. You knew it was a loose threat. He sat down hard, legs spreading without meaning to. More slick dripped onto the floor.
You got on your knees between his thighs and ran your hands up them. He watched you with narrowed eyes, chest heaving. When you wrapped your fingers around his cock he hissed and his hips jerked up.
“Don’t—shit—”
You stroked him slow, thumb swiping over the head, while your other hand slid between his legs and pressed two fingers against his hole. He was soaked. The second you pushed in he made this choked sound and his head fell back, ears flat, claws digging into the ruined sheets.
“You can growl all you want,” you said, voice low, “but your body’s telling me exactly what it needs.”
He didn’t answer with words. Just pushed down onto your fingers with a snarl that turned into a moan halfway through. he clawed the bed and cursed and tried to pretend he wasn’t shaking.
When you finally pulled your fingers out and lined your cock up he was panting, eyes glassy, tail wrapped tight around your waist without him seeming to notice.
“Do it,” he ordered, voice cracking. “Fill me. Now. And don’t you dare be gentle.”
You pushed in slow anyway. He took it. his hole clenched around you—but the second you bottomed out he let out this long, shaky breath and his whole body went limp for a second.
“Fuck… yes.”
You fucked him hard, just like he asked. Deep, rough strokes that made the bed creak and his claws tear new holes in the sheets. He met every thrust, biting his lip hard enough to draw blood, growling and moaning and cursing your name like it was an insult and a prayer at the same time.
“Bite if you need to,” you told him when his teeth started worrying at his own lip. “I can take it.”
He did—latched onto your shoulder and bit down hard when you changed the angle and started hitting that spot inside him over and over. The pain mixed with the heat in your gut and made you fuck him even harder. He came like that—sudden, violent, cock pulsing untouched between you, hole clenching so tight it dragged you right over the edge with him. You buried yourself deep and filled him while he shook and growled and bit down harder on your shoulder.
After, you stayed inside him. One hand stroking slow through his hair, the other resting on his hip. He didn’t shove you off. Just kept you there, still buried in him, tail heavy and warm around your waist, one clawed hand resting on the back of your neck.
“…Stay,” he muttered against your throat, so quiet you almost missed it. “Until it comes back. Then we’re doing that again. And you’re not pulling out until I say so.”
You smiled and kissed the bite mark you’d left on his skin. “Whatever you need.”
He didn’t answer. But his tail tightened around you, and he slowly relaxed against you.
You’d been asking him for twenty minutes, shamelessly relentless, until Toji finally let out a heavy sigh and shifted over you. Even then, he refused to give you his full weight. He braced his knees on the mattress on either side of your head, his thick, scarred thighs framing your vision as he hovered just inches above your mouth.
"You're annoying, you know that?" he grumbled, his voice a low, gravelly vibration in the dark room.
You didn't answer, just tilted your chin up and caught him. The moment your tongue swiped firmly against his slick heat, the tension in Toji's heavy frame snapped. He didn't stay hovering for long. As you worked your tongue in broad, demanding strokes, his hips started to drop. He began grinding down against your mouth, a slow, desperate roll of his hips that forced you deeper against his center.
His breathing roughened, turning into sharp, jagged hitches. He gripped the headboard, his knuckles turning white as he chased the friction. You added two fingers, sliding them inside and hooking upward. Toji's breath hitched violently. He was practically riding your face now, his heavy muscles twitching with every frantic thrust of his hips as he ground down onto your tongue.
Then, without warning, his entire body stiffened up.
Toji let out a sharp, breathless gasp. His back arched, and a sudden, heavy rush of hot fluid sprayed directly across your mouth and cheeks. It wasn't just a leak; he was actively squirting, his internal muscles pulsing frantically around your fingers as the sheer volume of it coated your lower face.
The room went dead silent, save for the sound of his ragged breathing.
Toji froze completely. The strength gave out in his arms, and he dropped down, his knees taking his weight as he stared blindly at the wall. He looked down at you, his usually sharp green eyes blown wide in absolute, stunned disbelief. He was completely speechless, a dark flush rapidly climbing up his thick neck and spreading across his scarred chest. He just stared at the wet mess on your face, his mouth slightly parted, trying to process what his body had just done.
You pulled your fingers out slowly and swiped the back of your hand across your chin, catching the slick fluid. You looked up at his shocked, flushed face and smirked.
"Damn, Toji," you said, your voice low and cocky. "Didn't know I could work you out like that."
His jaw snapped shut. For a long, heavy second, he just stared at the wet mess covering your lower face. The deep red flush burned all the way to the tips of his ears.
"Shut up," he finally grated out, his voice a full octave lower than usual, completely raw. He dragged a heavy hand down his face, deliberately breaking eye contact. "Don't act like you did something special. I just... it's been a long week."
You didn't wipe the smirk off your face, letting your eyes drop meaningfully to where his thighs were still trembling against the mattress.
"Stop looking at me like that," he snapped, though the harshness of his tone was completely ruined by the way his breath caught at the end of the sentence. He shifted his weight, suddenly hyper-aware of his own body and the undeniable evidence he'd left all over you. He reached down, his large, calloused thumb aggressively wiping at your chin and cheek, trying to scrub away the proof. "Wipe your damn face. You look stupid grinning like that."
You chuckled, catching his wrist and leaning up to kiss the inside of his palm. He flinched, but he didn't pull his hand away.
"I'm serious," he warned, his chest still heaving as he finally forced himself to look back down at you. His green eyes were dark, defensive, but blown wide with lingering heat. "You utter a word of this to anyone, and I'm putting you through a wall. You just caught me off guard. Don't let it go to your head."
He let out a rough, shaky breath, trying to summon his usual intimidating aura, but he was still straddling you, completely laid bare and visibly shaken.
"Now are you gonna get up," he muttered, his voice dropping into a needy, impatient growl as his hips twitched involuntarily against you, "or are you just gonna lay there looking smug all night? Because I still have an ache you need to take care of."
You didn't argue. You just reached up, gripping the back of his thick neck, and pulled him down. He didn't resist, collapsing his heavy frame over yours. He caught your lips in a quick, rough kiss, tasting the salt and slick of himself on your mouth without a single complaint.
He broke the kiss just as fast, turning his head to bury his flushed face deep into the crook of your neck. He let out a long, heavy exhale, his massive chest expanding against yours as he snuggled closer, his solid weight pinning you to the mattress. He was still trembling slightly, his arms wrapping around your shoulders in a tight, grounding hold.
"Just shut up and touch me," he mumbled into your skin, the last of his fight completely drained out of him.
satoru .g
The sheets were a tangled wreck underneath you both. You were twisted up in a breathless 69, Satoru’s ridiculously long legs straddling your shoulders while his face hovered right over your hips. He had your cock in his hand, his lips parted to finally take you in, but the second your tongue swiped firmly against his slick heat, his jaw just slacked.
He was far too distracted by what you were doing to his pussy to actually focus on sucking your dick. He tried, ducking his head down, but as you dragged your tongue right over his most sensitive spot, he let out a sharp gasp and lost his grip entirely. He ended up just panting hot air against your thighs, his long fingers abandoning their task to twist deeply into your hair instead.
"Hold on, let me—ah!" Satoru gasped, a breathless, exhilarated laugh bubbling out of him as he failed to focus for the third time. "You’re doing that on purpose. You’re not even letting me start."
You didn't let up. You gripped his thighs, holding him steady as you worked your tongue in broad, demanding strokes. Satoru was incredibly vocal, his hips rolling eagerly and shamelessly against your mouth as he completely surrendered to the sensation. The room was filled with the wet, heavy sounds of the friction and his ragged breathing.
He arched his lower back, pushing himself deeper against your face. You took the invitation, sliding two fingers deep inside him and hooking upward to hit that internal sweet spot, keeping a relentless, punishing pace with your tongue.
Satoru’s breath hitched violently. He completely abandoned the idea of the 69, his head dropping back against the mattress as he practically rode your face. His long frame arched completely off the bed, his thighs trembling uncontrollably against your cheeks as the overstimulation built up higher and faster than he was ready for.
"Yeah, right there," he stuttered out, his voice pitching higher. "Don't stop, don't—fuck!"
A violent, full-body shudder ripped through his long frame as the last of his control completely broke.
Satoru let out a loud, sharp cry, his fingers pulling taut against your scalp. His hips buckled hard, and a sudden, heavy rush of hot fluid sprayed directly across your mouth, chin, and cheeks. He was shaking, his internal muscles clenching in frantic, wet waves around your fingers, completely coating your lower face.
He collapsed down onto your legs, his chest heaving as he gasped for air. For a split second, there was total silence in the room, except for the sound of the bed creaking.
Then, Satoru shot up. He pushed himself onto his hands, craning his neck to look down at your face. His bright blue eyes were blown incredibly wide, but there wasn't a single hint of embarrassment in them. Instead, a massive, thrilled grin broke out across his flushed face.
"Holy shit!" he laughed out loud, completely breathless and amazed. "Did I just do that?!"
You pulled your fingers out slowly, swiping the back of your hand across your slick chin. You looked up at his wide, excited eyes and smirked, your tone perfectly cocky and satisfied.
"Damn, Satoru," you teased, your voice low. "Didn't know I could make you flood like that. Look at the mess you made."
"Are you kidding?! That was incredible!" he beamed, completely unashamed of the sheer volume of slick covering your face.
He shifted his long frame immediately, abandoning the 69 entirely to slide his legs down and fully straddle your waist. He leaned down over you, practically vibrating with lingering adrenaline, and didn't even hesitate before pressing a wet, messy kiss right to your lips. He tasted himself on you without a second thought, his tongue swiping lazily at the corner of your mouth.
He pulled back just enough to look at you, his flush deepening but his grin turning distinctly teasing. He reached out, tapping a finger right on your slick chin.
"You look really good wearing me, by the way," he hummed, his tone playfully arrogant. He let out a happy, exhausted sigh and dropped his weight, snuggling his face right into the crook of your neck. His heart was hammering a frantic rhythm against your chest, and his arms wrapped tight around your shoulders.
"You're an absolute genius," he murmured happily against your collarbone, his hips still twitching involuntarily against you. "But now I have to clean up my mess. So lay back, because it's my turn to focus... and I'm going to take my sweet time draining you completely dry."
choso. k
You had him pulled right to the edge of the mattress, his back flat against the sheets while you knelt on the floor between his legs. It was an incredibly vulnerable position, and Choso was visibly hesitant. His hands were gripping tightly at the bedsheets, his knuckles turning stark white, and every time you leaned in even an inch, his thighs would reflexively try to snap shut against your sides.
"Wait," he breathed, his voice tight and nervous. A dark, heavy blush was already dusting his pale cheeks, spreading down his neck and over his collarbones. "It's... I'm already too sensitive right now. Maybe we should just—"
You didn't let him finish. You reached out, gently but firmly catching his wrists, prying his fingers away from the bunched-up fabric of the sheets and pinning his hands flat to the mattress by his sides. Then, you slid your arms under his knees, hooking his pale legs securely over your shoulders. It opened him up completely to your view, leaving him entirely exposed.
Choso let out a shaky, embarrassed whine, turning his head sharply to the side so he wouldn't have to look at you. He squeezed his eyes shut, his chest rising and falling in shallow, nervous hitches.
"Just relax for me," you murmured, leaning in close enough that your breath fanned over his slick skin.
The moment your tongue traced a long, slow, deliberate path right over his center, Choso let out a startled, high-pitched gasp. His entire body jolted like he’d been struck by lightning. He was so incredibly pent-up and sensitive that even the lightest, teasing pressure felt like a massive shock to his system. He tried to squirm backward, instinctively trying to pull away from the overwhelming sensation, but your grip on his hips kept him anchored right at the edge of the bed.
"It's too much," he whimpered, tears immediately welling in his dark eyes and spilling over the bridge of his nose. "Please, I can't... I can't take it, it's too much..."
He was pleading, shaking his head against the pillows, but his body was completely betraying him. Even as he cried out for you to stop, his hips were instinctively bucking upward, his breathing turning into wet, ragged gasps as he chased the very friction he claimed was too intense.
You answered his frantic movements by sliding two fingers deep inside his soaking heat, curling them upward to hit a steady, rhythmic pace while your tongue worked him over without a single ounce of mercy.
Choso became a complete wreck. He was sobbing openly now, sweet, musical sounds of pure sensory overload leaving his lips. His head thrashed against the pillows, his dark hair a tangled, sweat-dampened mess. His stomach muscles jumped and twitched with every stroke of your tongue, the overstimulation rapidly pushing him past the point of rational thought.
"Please!" he sobbed out, his voice cracking as his toes curled so tight they cramped. "Ah! I'm—I'm gonna—!"
A violent, full-body shudder ripped through him as he finally shattered.
Choso let out a loud, ruined wail, his back arching off the mattress so hard he practically lifted himself into the air. A sudden, heavy rush of hot fluid sprayed directly across your face.
The heavy, intense rush of it left him completely drained. His body went limp, collapsing back onto the mattress with a heavy thud. His chest rose and fell in sharp, desperate gasps as the last of the tremors worked their way through his thighs.
All Choso could do was lay there and pant.
Then, Choso slowly opened his tear-filled eyes, peering down at you through his damp lashes, his chest still heaving. When he finally focused on your face—when he saw the sheer volume of slick dripping from your chin and painting your cheeks—his breath hitched violently in his throat.
He froze completely. A look of pure, unadulterated shock washed over his pale features, his lips parting in silent horror. The red flush on his face that seemed to consume him entirely.
You pulled your fingers out with a soft, wet pop, slowly swiping the back of your hand across your slick chin. You looked up at his horrified, flustered face, letting a slow, incredibly self-satisfied smirk cross your lips.
"And here you were begging me to wait," you teased, your voice low and perfectly cocky in the quiet room. "Look at the absolute mess you just made of my face. You must have really been dying for this."
A pathetic, utterly mortified squeak left his throat.
"I—I'm so sorry!" he stammered, his voice trembling with sheer panic, shame, and overwhelming embarrassment. He immediately scrambled upward, his shaking hands reaching out to frantically cup your jaw, his thumbs trying to wipe at your slick-covered cheeks. "I didn't mean to—I don't know what happened! I'm so sorry, you're covered in it, I ruined everything, I—"
You chuckled, catching his trembling wrists to stop his frantic, messy apologies. You leaned forward, tilting his chin up, and pressed a quick, wet kiss right to his trembling lips, tasting the salt and slick of him, shutting him up instantly.
Choso melted into the kiss the second your lips met his, a soft, needy whimper vibrating in the back of his throat. When you pulled back, his eyes were wide and beautifully dazed, his blind panic instantly replaced by a heavy, adoration-filled heat that he couldn't hide.
Before he could find his voice to start apologizing all over again, he just gave up. He slumped forward with a heavy sigh, sliding right off the pillows to wrap his arms tightly around your neck. He buried his burning, tear-stained face deep into the crook of your shoulder, absolutely desperate to hide from your cocky gaze.
"You're terrible," he mumbled into your skin, his voice muffled and shaky, though he was clinging to you like a lifeline, his bare thighs still trembling where they bracketed your waist. "Please don't look at me right now... just hold me for a second."
mahito
You had him hoisted up onto the edge of the heavy wooden desk, standing squarely between his legs. Mahito was leaning back on his hands, swinging his bare heels against the back of your thighs and giggling that manic, grating laugh of his. He was treating the whole thing like a game, his mismatched eyes bright with chaotic amusement as he looked down at you.
"Is this supposed to be intimidating?" he teased, a wide, stitched grin stretching across his face. He tilted his head, completely unbothered. "C'mon, you look so serious! Are you really going to just stare, or are you actually going to—ah!"
His mocking laughter was completely cut off the second you stepped in close and dragged your teeth lightly up the sensitive skin of his inner thigh. You didn't give him what he wanted right away. Instead, you took your time, deliberately teasing him. You mapped out the patchwork lines of his skin with slow, agonizingly light laps of your tongue, completely ignoring his slick center while hovering just inches away from it.
Mahito shifted on the hard wood of the desk, his grin faltering. "Hey. Stop messing around. That tickles."
You smirked against his skin and traced a slow circle just outside his heat, blowing a warm breath over him. Mahito’s breath hitched, a sudden, involuntary shiver running down his spine. His hands gripped the edge of the desk tighter.
"I said stop playing," he grumbled, his voice losing its playful edge, dipping into something much more impatient and needy. "Just do it already!"
"Impatient, aren't we?" you hummed.
Then, you finally gave it to him. You gripped his thighs, your fingers digging firmly into his pale skin to hold him in place, and buried your face against him. The second your tongue swiped firmly and relentlessly against his core, the change in him was instantaneous.
The playful arrogance melted entirely off his face, replaced by a look of wide-eyed, frantic overstimulation. He jerked backward, his spine snapping straight, but you didn't let him retreat. You worked your tongue in sharp, demanding strokes, refusing to let up the pressure. He wasn't used to being overwhelmed, usually twisting and reshaping himself out of any corner, but his body was completely betraying him.
"Wait, wait—stop!" he gasped out, his fingers tangling desperately into your hair. He tried to squirm away, letting out a series of high, breathless whines, but his hips were instinctively bucking forward against your mouth. "I can't—it feels too—!"
You answered his frantic movements by sliding two fingers deep inside his soaking heat, hooking upward to hit that deep, internal pulse.
Mahito’s entire body went completely rigid. His breath caught violently in his throat, his jaw dropping open in a silent scream as the sheer intensity of the overstimulation shattered his chaotic facade. His heels dug sharply into your lower back, his pale thighs trembling uncontrollably against your cheeks.
Then, the tension finally snapped.
A violent, full-body shudder ripped through him. Mahito let out a loud, high-pitched cry, his back arching off the desk as a sudden, splash of warm fluid sprayed onto you.
The heavy rush left him entirely drained. He collapsed forward, his chest heaving as he gasped for air, his forehead coming to rest heavily against the top of your head.
Mahito slowly pushed himself up, blinking rapidly as his dazed eyes finally focused on your face. When he saw the sheer volume of slick dripping from your chin and painting your shirt, his breath caught in his throat.
He froze completely. The manic, unhinged curse was rendered completely speechless. A look of pure, unadulterated shock washed over his patchwork features, his mouth falling open. A dark, violent flush erupted across his pale cheeks, burning right through the stitches on his face and spreading all the way down his neck.
You looked up at his horrified, flustered expression, letting a slow, incredibly cocky smirk cross your lips as you wiped his essence off you. You didn't wipe all of it away, letting him stare at exactly what he’d done.
"Well," you teased, your voice low and deeply satisfied in the quiet room. "That’s certainly one way to finally shut you up."
A pathetic, mortified squeak left his throat.
"You talk all that big game," you continued, stepping into the space between his thighs and crowding him against the edge of the desk. "But you completely flood the second I put a little effort in. Didn't know you had it in you to make such a massive mess of me. Look at you. You made a puddle."
"I—what?!" he stammered, his voice trembling with sheer panic and overwhelming embarrassment. He looked entirely stripped of his usual bravado, his shaking hands hovering in the air as if he didn't know what to do with them. "I didn't—I don't even know what just happened! You—you cheated! You did something weird to me, you must have used a cursed technique, I—!"
You chuckled, catching his trembling wrists to stop his frantic, messy excuses. You leaned forward, tilting his chin up, and pressed a quick, wet kiss right to his trembling lips, tasting the salt and slick of him, shutting his rambling up instantly.
Mahito melted into the kiss the second your lips met his, a soft, needy whimper vibrating in the back of his throat. All the fight left his body. When you pulled back, his eyes were wide and beautifully dazed, his panic instantly replaced by a heavy, pliant heat.
Before he could find his voice to start arguing again, he just gave up. He slumped forward with a heavy sigh, sliding right off the edge of the desk to wrap his arms tightly around your neck. He buried his burning, flushed face deep into the crook of your shoulder, his chaotic energy entirely snuffed out.
"You're so mean to me," he mumbled into your skin, his voice muffled and shaky, though he was clinging to you like a lifeline, his bare thighs wrapping securely around your waist to hold himself up against you. "Shut up... don't look at me right now... just carry me to the bed."
suguru. g
You had been begging him for weeks. Every time you backed him against a wall, cornered him in the kitchen, or tried to pull him down onto the bed, Suguru would just offer that perfectly serene, frustratingly composed smile of his. He’d brush a hand through your hair, gently kiss your forehead, and murmur, "Soon. I just want it to be the right time and place. We shouldn't rush these things."
He was incredibly private, highly protective of his own vulnerability, and utterly obsessed with maintaining total control over himself and his environment. He hated the idea of feeling exposed or caught off guard.
But tonight, his elegant little excuses had finally run out.
He was seated deep in the plush, dark velvet armchair in the corner of his dimly lit bedroom, his long, dark hair tied back loosely. You were kneeling on the floor right between his parted thighs. Even now, with his legs spread for you, he was trying so hard to maintain that aura of untouchable grace. He rested one elbow on the armrest, his chin propped on his knuckles as he looked down at you through half-lidded, heavy brown eyes.
"Satisfied?" he hummed, his voice smooth and incredibly patronizing. "You’ve been relentlessly impatient, and now you finally have me exactly where you want me. Just do try to be gentle, won't you? I'd prefer not to make a mess tonight."
His arrogant, perfectly constructed little speech died instantly in his throat the second you bypassed his thighs and buried your face directly against his soaking heat. He tried to quickly muffle the sharp gasp that escaped him, biting down hard on his lower lip, but you weren't going to let him stay composed. Not after making you wait this long.
You gripped his thighs, your thumbs pressing firmly into the muscle as you dragged your tongue in long, deliberate, punishing strokes over his center. Suguru tensed violently, his hips involuntarily jerking upward against your mouth as his lower back arched completely off the cushion.
He tried to recover his composure, forcing a shaky exhale through his nose. He reached a trembling hand down, his palm finding the top of your head in a soft, patronizing pat—a desperate attempt to pace you. "Ah... you certainly don't hold back, do you?" his voice wavered, entirely losing its smooth edge. "That's... slow down a little, sweetheart, I can't—"
But the gentle head pat immediately turned into a white-knuckled, bruising grip in your hair the second you slid two fingers deep inside him, hooking upward to find the deep, internal ache he’d been so desperately hiding.
Suguru’s facade entirely crumbled. His hips buckled, lifting completely off the velvet cushion as he tried to chase the angle of your fingers.
"Wait, please, you're—ah! God, fuck!" he choked out, his voice cracking into a high, ruined pitch.
He was completely overstimulated, his long, muscular legs trembling violently against your ribs. He tried to pull you closer by your hair and push your shoulders away at the exact same time, his body entirely confused by the sheer volume of pleasure. A ruined, desperate whine tore past his lips, his head throwing back against the chair as his toes curled into the carpet.
Then, the final, stubborn thread of his control snapped.
Suguru let out a loud, melodic cry. His entire body locked up tight, and a sudden, rush of hot fluid met your awaiting mouth, completely coating your tongue in the sudden.
The intense rush of it left him completely hollowed out. He slumped forward in the armchair, his chest heaving with ragged, wet gasps. His hands slipped out of your hair, falling limply into his lap as the last of the intense tremors wracked his frame.
For a long, heavy moment, the only sound in the quiet bedroom was his open-mouthed breathing.
"So this is why you've been avoiding me for weeks," you teased, your voice low and deeply satisfied in the quiet room. "You were terrified I'd make you completely lose your mind. I've never seen anyone drench a chair this fast. Look at what you did to my face."
A pathetic, utterly mortified groan escaped his throat.
"Have a little mercy..." Suguru rasped out, his usually eloquent vocabulary completely deserting him. He looked utterly stripped of his pride, his shaking hands coming up to frantically drag down his burning face. "I had no idea I was even capable of that. God, you're wearing half of it. Please, don't gloat, I'm already entirely humiliated."
You chuckled, catching his trembling wrists and gently pulling his hands away from his face, refusing to let him hide. You leaned forward, crowding into his space between his thighs, and pressed a quick, wet kiss right to his trembling lips.
Suguru melted the second your lips met his, a soft, needy whimper vibrating deep in his chest. All the tension drained out of his rigid posture. When you pulled back just an inch, his brown eyes were wide and beautifully dazed, his intense embarrassment entirely replaced by a heavy, pliant heat.
Before he could try to find his composure again, he just completely surrendered. He slid right off the edge of the armchair, his knees hitting the floor right in front of you as he wrapped his long arms tightly around your neck. He buried his burning, flushed face deep into the crook of your shoulder, his perfectly kept facade completely destroyed and abandoned.
His trembling hand came up, instinctively finding the back of your head to offer a soft, shaky pat—his usual comforting gesture, though right now, he was entirely the one who needed it.
"You win," he mumbled into your skin, his voice muffled and shaky, though he was clinging to you like a lifeline, his bare thighs bracketing your waist on the floor. "I severely underestimated you. Now just... hold me, and let me pretend this didn't happen."
naoya. z
The bedroom was stifling, the air heavy with the frantic, wet sounds of his undoing. Naoya was pinned against the headboard, his pale legs hooked over your shoulders and his ankles locked behind your neck in an involuntary, white-knuckled grip. His hair was a sweat-slicked mess, and his dark eyeliner was completely ruined, dragged across his cheekbones in jagged streaks by the tears he couldn’t stop.
"Stop... I said stop!" he choked out, his voice cracking. He tried to shove at your shoulders, but his arms were shaking so violently his hands just slid off.
You didn't listen. You gripped his thighs tighter, your fingers digging into his skin, and buried your face back into his soaking heat. While your tongue swirled in heavy, demanding circles over his center, you slid two fingers deep inside him, stretching him wide and hitting that internal sweet spot with a punishing pace.
The double assault was too much for his nerves. Naoya’s entire body spasmed, a sharp, broken cry tearing from his throat. His hips buckled, his muscles clenching greedily around your fingers even as he tried to pull away from the friction.
"Just one more, Naoya," you murmured against his skin, your voice a low vibration that made him sob.
"It’s not... ah!... how you won't stop! You're... ngh!"
He was completely overstimulated, his nerves frayed, yet he arched further into the touch. His toes curled, and his breath came in hitched, needy whines. You increased the pressure, your tongue flickering faster as your fingers worked him into a frenzy.
"One more," you repeated, your teeth grazing him lightly.
"No! No more, please—Aaaah!"
He went rigid, his back arching off the bed as the next wave hit him. His thighs twitched uncontrollably against your ears as his body finally gave up, then came the gush of slick, coating almost the entirety of your lower face.
He let out a ruined, melodic cry, his hands flying up to cover his face in shame. He was sobbing openly now, his frame vibrating with the force of the climax. You finally pulled back, tasting the salt of him on your lips as you looked at the state of him—the smeared makeup, the trembling limbs, and the soaking mess on the bed.
"You're such a pretty mess, baby," you murmured, reaching up to wipe a stray tear from his cheek. "Look at you. All that big talk, and you’re just a leaky little girl for me, aren't you?"
Naoya visibly cringed at the endearment, his lip curling in a sneer that was half-furious and half-shattered. A deep, frantic blush climbed all the way to the tips of his ears. He squinted at you through his glassy, tear-filled eyes, his face a brilliant, humiliated crimson.
"What are you looking at, idiot?" he snapped, though his voice was entirely too shaky to carry any real weight. He squinted at you through his glassy, tear-filled eyes, his face a brilliant, humiliated crimson. "Don't call me that... it's pathetic. I'm not some dumb woman or a bitch for you to talk down to."
"Funny," you teased, your tone perfectly cocky as you deliberately let a drop of his slick run down your chin. "Because you're the one on your back, drenching the sheets because you couldn't handle a little tongue. For someone who hates women so much, you sure do scream like a girl for me."
Naoya visibly recoiled, his lip curling in a sneer that was half-furious and half-shattered. "I do NOT—!"
"You do," you interrupted, leaning in until your nose brushed his. "You’re pouting like a bratty little princess just because I made you lose your mind. It’s cute, Naoya. Really."
"I am NOT cute!" he hissed, his voice cracking with indignity. He reached out with a trembling hand, grabbing your collar and tugging you upward with a weak, desperate jerk. "Wipe your face. You look disgusting. You're filthy, and it’s your fault I’m like this anyway."
Despite the insult, he didn't let go of your shirt. His legs remained wide, his heels digging into the mattress as he pulled you closer. His eyes darted to your zipper with a desperate, impatient hunger that betrayed every word of his bratty protest.
"Well?" he whispered, his voice dropping into a needy, demanding rasp. "Are you just going to stare at me and say stupid things all night, or are you actually going to finish this? I'm not waiting any longer. Hurry up and give it to me."
"Say please, then," you hummed. "Tell me you want it, pretty girl."
"Shut up!" he barked, though he immediately arched his hips back up against you, practically begging for the contact. "Just... just do it! Please, damn you!"
The air in the bedroom is heavy, thick with the scent of Choso’s arousal and the rhythmic, wet sounds of his desperation. He’s tangled in the sheets, his back arched and his eyes squeezed shut as he loses himself in the fantasy of you.
Every time he closes his eyes, he sees your face—that specific, hungry look in your eyes when you want him. It’s enough to make his head light. His hips buck instinctively, his weight pressing down into the pillow as he grinds his aching, swollen pussy against the fabric. He’s drenched, his folds weeping with a need that a pillow can’t satisfy.
"Mmph... ahh... (name)..." he gasps, your name a broken prayer against the pillowcase.
He’s completely undone, his body trembling with a feverish flush that stains his neck and chest. His clit is throbbing and hypersensitive, sending jolts of pleasure through his spine every time he presses it against the bedding. His walls clench around nothing, twitching in a rhythm, craving the stretch and weight of you filling him up.
"Haaahn... I-I like it... I like the thought of you... filling me up..." Choso confesses heatedly into the fabric, his voice shaking.
The thought is imprinted in his mind—your hands pinning him down, your lips bruising his skin, the blunt force of you claiming him over and over until his belly is heavy and swollen. He grinds harder and faster, his breath coming in sharp, jagged hitches as he chases a climax that feels just out of reach.
The sudden, soft click of the door handle cuts through the room, making him snap back to reality in an instant.
Choso freezes, his heart leaping into his throat. He hadn't heard you come home, hadn't heard your footsteps in the hall. He looks over his shoulder, eyes wide and blown out with lust, his face turning a deep, bruised shade of crimson as he realizes you’re standing right there.
"Ahh! (name), I... I was just... ahh..."
He tries to scramble for the duvet, but he’s too sluggish, his body still twitching from the friction. The evidence is everywhere—the damp spot on the pillow, his labored, sobbing breaths, and the way his thighs are still shaking, parted just enough to show you how slick and ready he’s made his pussy for you.
“... I want it so badly," he whimpers, the humiliation finally snapping into a raw, honest plea. "I want you to... to make me a mommy. Please..."
He looks up at you from the bed, his chest heaving and his lips parted, completely at your mercy.
Urhmmm Flirty Pilot Satoru x Senior Flight Attendant reader? (This is probably highly ooc)
Satoru lowkey a player known for sleeping around with models in layover cities and charming flight attendants, the reader is very professional, a bit jaded from dealing with entitled passengers and egotistical/cocky crew members.
Satoru thinks the reader is an easy catch, thinks him being so “wound up” is a perfect excuse for reader to get some release.
now with a bit of realism I don’t think airlines would be too keen on having a pilot playboy affecting their brand so maybe he’s a nepo baby which adds to his ego, maybe his family owns the airline he works in..?
That’s all I got and for the smut.. probably brat taming, power imbalance, edging, orgasm denial, begging, semi public sex? Airplane sex, Risk of getting caught, could probably have Gojo be attached by the end and get possessive.
Also also uhh maybe the Airline is moving Gojo to only pilot for private jets for VIP’s so no more shared flights with the reader and the reader never gave his number, cue gojo pulling at his hair trying to find the reader, and because of their “unofficial” situationship he’s running around interrogating junior flight attendants that worked with him and scrolling through crew rosters like a madman.
basically gojo thinks he wins easy until he realizes he’s incredibly down bad for reader.
love this request sm , hope i did it justice
°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･˙⋆✮
He notices your arrival and pushes off the wall, sauntering over with that infuriating smirk still plastered on his handsome face. He stops just a bit too close, invading your personal space with deliberate casualness.
"Well, well, well... look who it is. My favorite new hire." His voice is a low, smooth rumble, but there's an undercurrent of arrogance that sets you on edge. "You're just in time for orientation. Can't have my new favorite hire wandering around the cabin lost, now can we?"
You open your mouth to correct him, your eyes narrowing, but he doesn't even give you the chance to breathe. He cuts you off with a dismissive wave of his hand, his smirk widening as he steps even closer, looking down at you with a patronizing tilt of his head.
"Actually, skip the tour. Why don't you just go give out some beverages, yeah?" He reaches out, his fingers ghosting over the collar of your uniform in a way that feels more like a claim than a gesture. "Be a good flight attendant and find something to stay busy. I’ll call for you when I need a drink."
He lets the command hang in the air, his gaze dragging down your figure one more time, slow and calculated . The prick is so convinced he can order you around like a servant just because he's wearing the captain's cap. He clearly thinks you’re another rookie who’s going to spend the flight trying to stay in his good graces. He doesn't realize that you've dealt with assholes like him before. He thinks the family name on the tail of the plane makes him untouchable, but to you, he’s just another spoiled kid in an expensive suit. You aren't impressed by the ego.
°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･˙⋆✮
As the plane levels out, Satoru leaves the cockpit on autopilot, clearly not caring about the workload he’s dumping on his co-pilot. He saunters into the galley with the lazy, unearned confidence of a guy who knows his family owns the airline.
He finds you busy with the inventory and stops right in your way, leaning against the cart to force you to look at him. His gaze travels over your body, searching for the reaction he's sure he can provoke.
"You look pretty wound up," he says, his voice a low rumble over the engines. He doesn't wait for an answer, stepping into your personal space. "Keeping up that 'perfect employee' act for ten hours has gotta be exhausting."
He traps you against the cabinets, his hand resting on the wall just above your shoulder. He leans in close, his breath ghosting over your skin.
"I know how it is. You're so tense you’re practically vibrating," he mutters, that arrogant smirk never leaving his face. "It's a long flight. No reason to spend it stressed. I'm bored, and you clearly need a distraction. How about we find a spot in the back and take the edge off? I'll make it worth it."
He’s totally sure of himself, assuming your silence means you're overwhelmed by him. He thinks he’s found an easy target for some mid-air fun.
Boy, was he so wrong.
°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･˙⋆✮
He freezes as you grab his wrist and yank him closer. The cocky comment he was about to make dies in his throat as you spin him around and slam him face-first against the wall. You pin his wrists above his head with one hand, while the other roughly grips the bulge in his pants.
He lets out a soft gasp as you squeeze him through the fabric. He instinctively tries to grind back against you, but you maintain a slow, punishing rhythm that leaves him trembling. Just as he’s about to break, you pull your hand away, leaving him empty and aching.
"Don't be a brat," you mutter in his ear. "You're not in charge here, remember?"
You yank his pants and underwear down, letting him spring free. He’s panting now, his skin flushed and slick. Even as his body betrays him, he tries to find his voice, glancing over his shoulder with a shaky, spiteful smirk. "What’s the hold up? You gonna fuck me or what? Scared you can't handle it?"
You yank his hair back, forcing his head up. "Watch your mouth. Now beg for it."
He winces and makes a scowl. "Please," he whimpers, his eyes hazy and desperate. "Please fuck me. Do whatever you want, just... please don't leave me like this."
You nudge his thighs apart with your foot and drive two fingers deep into him. Satoru cries out, his head thudding against the wall as you pump a wet, heavy rhythm into him. Once he’s dripping and desperate, you line yourself up and bury yourself in him with one hard thrust.
The sound of your hips slapping against him fills the cramped space. You fuck him hard, ignoring his muffled wails as you hit his sweet spot over and over. He’s completely undone, his fingers digging into the wall as he loses the ability to form words.
Suddenly, a chime rings out. The clink of a beverage cart and a muffled voice sound dangerously close outside the door. Satoru’s eyes fly wide in panic, a high-pitched moan starting to rip from his throat. Before the sound can escape, you slam your palm over his mouth, silencing him.
"Stay. Quiet," you hiss.
You don't slow down. You drive into him harder, using the wall to pin him as he shakes violently against your hand. He nods frantically, tears of overstimulation soaking into your palm as he jolts in silent, rhythmic spasms. You hit him with one final, brutal thrust, bottoming out as your own release hits in hot surges, filling him up.
As the footsteps outside fade away, you peel your hand back. Satoru slumps against the wall, gasping for air, his legs shaking too hard to stand. He’s a total mess, the arrogant pilot completely replaced by the ruin you’ve made of him.
°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･˙⋆✮
Only a few days have passed, and Satoru is already losing it. Because the airline moved him to exclusive VIP flights, he has no way of running into you. He never got your number, and now he’s spiraling, interrogating junior staff and obsessively scrolling through crew rosters.
He paces his apartment, his hair a mess from his own agitation. He can’t believe he’s this worked up over one person. Usually, everyone falls for his act, but you saw right through him. The way you handled him in the galley was infuriating, and it’s all he can think about.
He stops, a thought finally clicking. He sits at his desk and fires up his laptop. As the son of the airline’s owner, he has access to files most pilots can't touch. He bypasses the security filters, searching for more than just your name—he wants your full schedule.
"Found you," he mutters, a smirk returning to his face as your file pops up on the screen.
In the kitchen below, the faint, rhythmic clink of a spoon against ceramic drifted through the floorboards—a domestic, innocent sound that made the air upstairs feel twice as thick. Your mother was just a few yards away, humming a mindless tune, completely oblivious to the way the bed groaned under the weight of your frantic pace.
You panted harshly, sweat stinging your eyes as you gazed down at toji. You didn't stop. you couldn't. You were lost in the sloppy, desperate rhythm, focused entirely on the tight, pulsing heat of him as he tried to draw even more of you inside.
A smug, jagged smirk tugged at the corner of tojis scarred lips, even as he bucked beneath you to swallow a groan. He kept his voice to a rough, whisper. "Careful, sweetheart," he rasped, his fingers digging into your hips until they bruised. "Keep that up and she might just catch on to what a filthy boy she's got. Nngh, fuck... you feel incredible."
The risk was like adrenaline. Your eyes flashed, a dark delight blooming in your chest at his vulgar words. "Maybe I want her to hear," you challenged, leaning down until your breath hitched against his ear. "Maybe I want her to see exactly how much her husband craves this. I bet she’d be shocked to see him like this, wouldn't she?"
He reached up, his thumb catching your bottom lip and tugging it down, his eyes dark with a predatory focus. "You're shaking," he observed, a dark, triumphant smirk ghosting his lips as he felt you tremble around him. "Is it the thought of her walking in, or are you just realizing how badly I need you?”
He didn't wait for an answer. He shifted his grip, his thick thighs locking around your waist to anchor you as he began rutting his hips to match your thrusts.
toji let out a sharp, breathless chuckle that was suddenly cut short as a powerful thrust sent a hot liquid that coated his walls, flooding his core and making his head hit the pillow hard. His back arched off the sheets, eyes dark and heavy-lidded as he looked up at you with a mix of awe and lust. He reached down with a trembling hand, a finger pressing firmly against his entrance to catch the leakage and shove it back in, desperate to stay in control.
"Fuck, kid... you're trying to kill me," toji panted, a breathless, genuine laugh catching in his throat. He didn't pull away, instead, his legs tightened around your waist, keeping you there. "You've got a hell of a lot of nerve doing this while she's right under us." He leaned in, his voice dropping to a vibration against your skin. "But if you want more, you better be quiet, sweetheart. Can’t have mommy hearing what a hungry little slut you are for daddy."
