he would keep you on the bed, stuffed full and fucked stupid. he would keep you there until your throat is hoarse, and your knees are bruised, and your hole aches, and your insides feel like theyâve been turned into mush, and your back is screaming in protest because heâs had you in multiple positions now.
he becomes nonverbal when he gets like this; quiet grunts passing through his pressed lips when he fucks in deeply, rutting his cock in and grinding so insistently, itâs like you can feel him in the back of your throat â pressing and pressing and pressing. itâs almost terrifying when simon holds you like this.
he can go for hours â he will go for hours â and you feel your body crave the insanity of it. you feel yourself succumb to the overwhelming pleasure he douses you with. a baptism, of some sorts. born-again. you know you can never go back to how it was before.
his name loses meaning as you keep screaming it, and only through your delirium do you feel simon finally cum in you. he does not shoot it in your slack jaw or over your stomach, nor does he smear against your tits like heâs done in the previous rounds, but he pumps it deep in you, almost always like heâs making it take.
the aftercare is gentle and long and quiet, and it starts with a kiss on your palms.
Gojo makes your pretty belly bulge for all his viewers âĄ
àšà§ â The chat explodes when Gojo hooks his fingers into the waistband of your panties and drags them aside.
He doesn't take them off- just stretches the soaked fabric to one side and holds it there, pinning it against your inner thigh so nothing obstructs the camera's view. His other hand slides between your legs, two fingers pressing against your slit, and then he spreads you open.
Slow. Deliberate. Like he's unwrapping something precious.
"There she is," he murmurs. The ring light catches everything- the dewy, flushed stretch of your cunt, the slick strands of arousal that glint and snap as he parts your folds wider, webbing between his fingers like honey. Your hole clenches on nothing, gummy and pathetically empty.
Heh, look at that. She's dripping already and I've barely touched her.
"See how wet she gets?" His voice is like silk, pitched for the microphone. Donations ping in a frenzy. "All these people watching and your little pussy's just weeping for it."
He keeps you spread with one hand and uses the other to guide his cock to your entrance- just the tip, fat and flushed and shiny with precum. The camera catches the exact moment he nudges in... the way your gummy walls stretch and clench around the head, resisting and yielding in the same breath, that first inch sinking into wet, sucking heat.
"Nnnh-"
"Shh, I got you." He rocks forward -just barely- letting the stream see how your pussy swallows him centimeter by centimeter, that tight ring of muscle gripping his girth like it's trying to milk him already, "watch this."
He snaps his hips.
Your scream breaks apart into static. One brutal thrust buries him to the hilt, his cock punching so deep you feel it in your fucking chest- and when you look down, when the camera tilts to follow his gaze, you can see it.
The bulge.
His cock outlined against your lower belly, a thick ridge pressing up beneath your skin with every thrust. He presses his palm flat against it, feels himself moving inside you.
"Right there," he groans, grinding up into that deep spot "feel that? That's your cervix, baby. That's where I'm gonna -fuck- where I'm gonna ruin you."
And then he batters it.
His pace turns savage- hips snapping with brutal precision, that fat cock ramming your cervix over and over until your insides feel like mush. Each thrust punches a whimper out of you, your walls going soft and sloppy around him, unable to do anything but take it. The bulge in your tummy jumps with every stroke, obscene and undeniable.
"Oh god- oh god- 'Toru- c-can't -hnngh-"
"yeah you can." His voice is wrecked, strained, "and you're gonna cum while they watch."
She's getting so tight- squeezing me like she's trying to break my cock off-
The wet sounds are obscene. Your pussy squelches with each pump, arousal churning into something thicker, frothier- a white, creamy mess that clings to his shaft and oozes out around the stretched rim of your hole. It smears against his pelvis, his balls, drools in sticky rivulets down to the sheets.
"There it is," he breathes, thumb finding your clit, "there's my messy girl. You hear that? Hear how sloppy you're getting?"
Schhllk
He grinds against your battered cervix, holds there, and your orgasm crashes through you like a wave- walls clamping, legs seizing, voice cracking on a sob as your cunt creams around him in thick, milky spurts. He doesn't stop. He can't stop. Just fucks you through it, churning your release into a frothy ring at the base of his cock, the camera catching every filthy detail.
The view count ticks past thirty thousand.
His cock throbs inside your spasming cunt, and Gojo just laughs- breathless, wrecked, mean.
For all its faults Tumblr has truly ruined all other social media for me because my friends all have Instagram and are all trying to get me on Instagram more but every time I open Instagram there are like fifteen things screaming for my attention and when I get over myself long enough to start scrolling it's like. Where is my chronological dash. Where is the following-only option. Who are these people. Why are there so many videos. Everyone is screaming at me. And then before I know it I'm thirty minutes into scrolling and I haven't seen a single thing that I actually care about. At least on Tumblr when I see stuff I don't care about I know someone I follow has found a new interest.
a slap to your cheek brought you back. your eyes zoned in to how fucked out you looked in the mirror. your back arched and face wet with tears and dried cum, your teeth bit and gnawed mindlessly into the big hand that kept you from screaming. all you could feel was pleasure, and it got worse as you made eye contact with the man in the mirror. âcâmon baby, canât zone out on me.â toji was mean, a big meany with a even bigger cock. he wasnât what you needed but wanted so so bad. your body shook beneath him, ass clapping against his cock as he fucked you like a fuck toy. your hands pressed against the cool floor hoping to regain a little piece of your mind but you couldnât and toji definitely wouldnât allow you to.
slapping your ass he angled himself, your cunt wet and hot. molding to every vein that he carried on his fat dick. you felt him go deeper, your breath becoming stuck in your throat, ears ringing - and your pudgy stomach poking out a little more as if you were bloated. âthatâs my good girlâ his rough voice spoke into the air. you moaned loud, a chuckle leaving his raspy throat before a deep growl. âstop squeezing my cock darlinâ you stared into the mirror, eyes crossing and pussy clenching over and over. your ass hole puckered and unpuckerd, toji looking at it and spitting on it before easing his chubby thumb in.
âi.said.stop.â using his thumb in your ass he pushed you back on his cock, pretty pussy making noise as he fed it dick and pre cum. he watched as cream dripped onto the floor, your pussy sticky and wet. âmessy thing, you love this huh baby?â toji made eye contact with you, staring deep in your soul. you nodded, nodded fast, moaning; voice gone. your eyes could only stay glued to his pretty face, trying to keep consciousness. but you were losing. âc-canâtâ you barely whispered, pussy red and sore, filled so much that you couldnât take anymore. âyes you can.â toji said fucking you harder. âlook how this pretty pussy is taking me, she wants it. so do youâ he gripped your chin with his unoccupied hand, making you look into the mirror.
âtwo sluts who are only for my pleasureâ tojiâs cock jerked inside of you, more cream seeping from between you two. âwhoâs are you baby?â he said gently, balls slapping against your pussy, and thumb fucking into your ass. he broke you. broke you so bad that you could only whisper his name, your body shaking and eyes rolling to the back of you head. your pussy squirted everywhere and for hours it felt like. the last thing you could hear was toji saying fuck breathlessly, his balls scrunching and his thick cum filling your hole.
it was an innocently planned night on the town with you, your girlfriend, and your closest friends, satoru and suguru.
the restaurant was quaint; lights strung above gleamed so pretty like little stars woven between fake leaves â but not nearly as pretty as the light in shoko's eyes whenever she looked at you.
yes, she was a little shameless, keeping her eyes on your breasts for most of the night like she's never seen a pair before, aching at how they nearly spilled over the lace. but she just simply couldn't help herself when you looked this good.
and being as feverishly jealous as she is, shoko also couldn't stop planting possessive kisses up and down the column of your neck â even when satoru teased, "ok, don't start fucking on the table, please." â she didn't care; she needed to remind the boys and the waiter and the whole world that you were taken.
and when that couldn't satisfy her possessive little heart, she had to slither a hand up your exposed thigh.
she was soaked. you were soaked. both just quivering, horny messes because you both chose to wear teeny-tiny matching sundresses.
i mean really, the absolute teeniest, tiniest sundresses; so short that you had to ocassionally pinch at the hem to pull it down over your ass. so short that you couldn't bend over at all without flashing the whole world. so tiny and tight that it had the boys ogling you â shoko pulled her lips into a tight, thin line.
you had to stifle your giggles, watching how she stared daggers at satoru, then suguru, then satoru again â repeatedly, all while trying to upkeep a friendly and conversational show.
then the wine shuddered in its glass.
why?
because shoko slammed her palm down on the white-cloth table.
why?
becauseâ
"you look really good in that dress." satoru complimented, 'innocently' â but satoru is never innocent.
and that was kind of shoko's breaking point.
"âyeah, and i'm gonna be the one helping her take it off later, isn't that right, baby?" she smiled, hand snuggling at your inner thigh.
"yeah, that's riiiiiiiight~" you cooed back.
you're just a puddle with two eyes and non-stop giggles bubbling from your chest.
now it was 1 AM when you two finally returned back home to your apartment.
and the moment the door snapped, so did both of your restraints and suddenly you two were lunging at each other for kisses, grabbing handfuls of her ass while she dipped down to lick and suck at the tops of your supple breasts, releasing nymphic moans as you took turns rubbing between each other's thighs.
"nn! fuck, i've been wet all night." you complain.
"m-me too..."
you're shuddering like you're dangerously close already, just from shoko slipping her fingers through your folds, puckered clit crazy sensitive.
"nn, please?"
"couch." she commands simply.
*
soft lips parted, sundress pushed way up her thighs as shoko sinks into the couch so entranced as she watches you hump her thigh like a desperate bunny in heat.
"is this what you needed?"
"yesssss!!" you almost cry. "fuck, hnnn!!"
it's so cute, how you two match lace on lace, needy on needier, wet on wetter, slut on top of the sluttier.
so plush, so plump, melting against her like a nymph, panties pushed aside in haste so you can rub your slippery pussy back and forth on your girlfriend's thigh.
"nn! so good! feels sooo good!" you mewl, expression hazy, head rolling on your shoulders.
"yeahhh?" she hums, fingers stroking affectionately at your flushed cheek, "who's my good girl?"
"meee!! nn, me!!" you clench, juices slicking up her thigh yet more as you rub your aching pussy in desperation.
"that's right." she smiles, petting at your hair. "my good girl. satoru fucking wishes he had a girl like you, hm? but you're mine."
she's mesmerized by the way your breasts bounce so deliciously right in front of her eyes, so heavy and full like she just knows you're ovulating. she can't help but roll your pert nipples between her fingers, she loves how it raises the whininess of your moans.
"that's my good girl, keep going." shoko coaxes, hands moulding your supple breasts.
"nhn!" you squeak, hips bucking ever more desperately. "n-needed this all night, fuuuuck!! 'm so... 'm so sensitive, 's been d-driving me crazyyy, wanted to rub my pussy so badly all night, hnnn!!" you babble.
"awww, i know; sat there and kept it together in front of the boys when really you jus' wanted to come home and fuck yourself silly on my thigh like this?" she squeezes your soft mounds, lips widenening into a nasty little grin.
shoko turns mean when she learns that you're sensitive, flexing the muscles of her thigh to firm it against you.
your bare pussy is so hot, drooling all over her thigh, only getting sloppier as your hips quicken against her thigh.
"awww that's it my baby girl, fuck yourself on me. gonna look so pretty for me when you cum, yeah? and you want it bad, n'aw i know you do. need me to help you, right? does my pretty girl want to cum on my tongue?"
"please please please! i need... need it!!" you sob.
"how badly?"
"SOOO badly!! w'nna cum, w'nna cummmm!!" you plead.
you don't need to say another word before she's finding her way between your thighs, snuggling into you.
two hands push apart your thighs as wide as they can go, buttery soft pussy melting all over her tongue making her pretty eyes roll back so far you just see the whites flicker at you for a brief moment â the taste, the scent? always hits her like a dope rush.
"oh fuck, nnnnn fuck!! fuuuck!! pleaaaaaase!! i'm so close!!"
"so sweet," she moans on it, gulping down
"mnmmnm faster!! more!! make me cum, please, make me cummmm!!"
"mhm," she hums, vibrations rippling across your clit as she suckles at the nub so feverishly, soft tongue swirling over it.
"mmnmnnmnn!"
"cumminghâ?" she asks, half-muffled on your spasming pussy.
"yeeeeesssssnnnnnn!!!"
"good girl, good girlâmmmf"
you're grabbing at her hair, she's flattening her tongue for you to ride it yourself and use her like a toy, and you're pushing her deeper into your throbbing cunt, rolling your hips against her face in desperation as you feel your orgasm crash over you in pulses. pussy gushing all on her tongue, her nose peaking out over, and eyes rolling back in unison with you because feeling you cum on her tongue nearly makes her cum, too.
she's beaming when she pulls off, breathing heavy and hot. your juices dribble down her chin, her hair is a tousled mess because you've been nesting your fingers in it.
"your vibrator could never." she remarks smugly, wiping your slick off with her fingers and sucking it off. "so sweet, tastes like i just broke your november streak."
"shutup!!!! ohhhh im gonna get you back for thisâ"
"âoh yeah?" she challenges, eyes gleaming, chest puffing out. "little brat wanna show off all the things i taught her?"
she asks, gliding the silk-soft hem of her sundress up past the rise of her thighs, nibbling her lower lip as she shyly spreads her legs.
your breath hitches.
"f-fuck, no panties?" you quiver.
she shrugs coolly. "well, i thought why bother when i know how nights end with a slut like you."
you're breathing hard again, eyes lighting up. the feline-like arc of your back making her pussy clench before you dive in for a taste of your favorite flavor â your girlfriend's pretty pussy.
â an; inspired by my wife, @sweethearticism ... checkmate me? đđ
â¶ïžïž Jealous Type (starring . fire lord zuko)
synopsis . You clearly donât understand who it is you belong to, so the fire lord makes things a little clearer for you via drawing his name out into that sweet cunt of yours. content . afab!reader, oral sex (f!receiving), possessiveness, royal advisor!reader (ib: my dearest @yenayaps), fingering, pet names, faint manhandling, heâs kinda feral, slight corruption kink, praise, etc.
author's note: weâre all obsessed w tht one edit, no?
âI simply donât believe I serve much purpose to you anymore, my lordââ
âItâs only us in here, Iâve said many times before that you donât have to call me that.â Zuko muttered, annoyance etched into his every unfairly pretty feature.
You struggled to meet eyes or reason with him, but continued in your rant nonetheless. ââYou hardly heed the advice I give you, despite it being my sole purpose to you, and I've reason to believe I would be a better fit for another nation. Iâve received word from the Earth Kingdo-â
Amber eyes snap up from the floor and directly onto you, his body pushing him up from his throne to stand up straight as he scoffs, âWhat?â
You're hesitant to lift your chin and face him head on, gulping as your words jumble up at the center of your throat. Carefully, you lift your gaze slowly and allow yourself a moment to naturally collect both yourself and your thoughts. Patiently uttering, âMy lord, please stop interrupting me. I-â
Doing the exact opposite once more, âNo, seriously, what?â
You huff, meeting his eyes with your brows all furrowed. After a short pause, âWhat do you mean what?â
Zuko's eyes appear to be softer on you as he departs from his throne and nears you, âYouâre leaving me?â
The question and the way it exits his lips is enough to make your body feel hot for reasons unbeknownst to you. Thus causing you to shoot your eyes off to the side, âW-Well, I was considering-â
âThat wonât do.â Flies right out of him without second thought, as if he no longer wanted the concept to be entertained or considered at all.
You return your full attention to him with widened eyes, unconsciously stepping forward, âPardon?â
Zuko gestures a hand out with a shake of his head, âCome here."
As you obediently move to do as you're told, you feel the intensity of his eyes raking over your frame, the heat behind them easily carving itself into your very being. Fuck if it wasn't as intimidating as ever to be alone with him like this, no matter how many times you've found yourself in this exact position in the past.
He's moved to the side of his throne and directs you towards it, ignoring the confused looks you throw his way, âSit. Iâll show you what other purposes you serve for me.â
Everything was happening much too fast.
The man whom youâve been diligently serving for the past few years was requesting your consent to touch you intimately so suddenly that you felt as though you were dreaming.
Itâs not like you havenât imagined it beforeâhell, look at him! Everyone in the Fire Nation has indulged in a fantasy or two, itâd be strange if they didnât. Especially if they were in your shoes, being so close to him at nearly every waking hour and getting to know him on levels beyond regolness.
So when his lordship humbly requested that you sit yourself on his throne and let him give you a nice feel of what your purpose is to him, it was only natural that you succumbed to the years of not-so-hidden need that has been weighing itself on your shoulders.
Heart pounding in your chest, none of your imaginations of the past could ever quite compare to the real thing of watching the fire lord lower himself down to his knees, bring his hands to your legs, and steadily part them open whilst constantly whispering gentle confessions in hopes of insuring you're entirely comfortable with this.
Truth be told, he'd always had a bit of a crush on youâhaving taken quite the liking to you from the day he'd chose you to be his royal advisor.
It was an odd sensation for you to find yourself seated where Zuko typically commands the nation, especially with the way he'd loomed before you with a hint of delectable saliva building up at the corners of his mouth. You barely caught on to the way he'd asked you to undress yourself before himâto bare your body for his greedy eyes to take inâbefore his hands were virtually everywhere.
There was a sense of heat felt from his faintly shaking palms, as if this were the most nerve-wracking act he'd ever participated in. You were steady in your undressing, considering you needed some sort of moment to prepare yourself for what was to come.
By the time you found yourself nakedâregal, advisory robes splayed out against his throne as your body sat all prettily perched upon itâZuko was all but drooling. You'd seen his lordship make many expressions over the years but thisâthis was unlike anything you'd ever seen before.
And it was all for you.
In the next instance, Zuko was gripping onto your knees, letting his fingers touch with a certain firmness as he spread your legs apart. Your limbs felt mushy under his skin and you already felt your lungs struggling to maintain a steady flow of oxygen. You had an arm coming up to hide your flushing face before he'd even gotten anywhere with you and he couldn't help but crack a cheeky smile at the display.
Who knew his dutiful advisorâwho'd just threatened to leave him mere moments ago, mind youâcould make such cute expressions from the slightest of touches?
"Relax," Zuko cooed gently, leaning forward to lightly kiss at your inner thigh, "I'm only trying to help you understand your purpose."
Breath hitching, "My lord, I really don't think-"
His tongue rolls out along the inside of your leg and you flinch as if you'd never been touched before. This was the Fire Lord, after all. Having him like this-, watching him do something so obscene...
"You don't need to think," He hushes out to you, the curve in his lips felt right against your tensed skin, "Not now, anyway. Just feel. Can you do that for me?" It took you a few seconds but, eventually, you nodded your head. To which he cracks a smile, "Atta' girl."
Then his head traveled further up and you held eye contact with him whilst his mouth slipped over to cup the soaking lips of your cunt. Those same fiery amber-shaded eyes of his roll back almost instantaneously, a rumbling groan pouring out from deep within the pit of his stomach in reaction to the taste of you on his tongue.
And you expected him to let this go? As if.
You clasped your lip tightly in between your teeth, your hands moving out to grip onto the arms of the throne as you braced yourself, hips jerking forwards ever so slightly to meet the feel of Zuko's hot tongue. A sloppy trail of saliva is left in the wake of every flick from his oral muscle, the hum he lets out against you enough to have your legs squirming around under his touch.
There's a smooth sound of schliiiick that rings out though the throne room, the noise surely loud enough for someone beyond its large walls to hear. Not that you or him seem to care, though.
Whines 'n moans are easily pulled from somewhere in your throat as his mouth maneuvers suavely to capture the entirety of your saccharine taste onto the center of his tongue.
Your back soon slumps against the throne, leaving you to stare in awe at the starving lord of a man who's cravings could only be satisfied through the taste of your sloppy cunt. There's a feeling of paranoia haunting you from somewhere within your gut that at any moment now a person could knock on the throne room doors or simply burst right in with an urgent matter but, ask Zuko if he cares!
Spoiler alert: he doesn't.
The tips of his tongue dive and dip all around the very ends 'n ins of your pussy, lapping out the most provocative of gushes form deep within you. You're a blissed-out mess of moans before he even thinks to pull himself up for a moment to breathe. And by then, your hands have buried themself into his long lushes locks of hair, tugging and pulling at his head as your teeth tatter against themself in an honest attempt at maintaining even the slightest fracture of your composure.
Then Zuko's body shifts forward and suddenly his tongue his snaking its looong self past your folds, wetly spreading you open on it. Your back arches almost immediately and you think your eyes cross just as your fingers scrape over his scalp.
Zuko's head tilts ever so slightly to lick at your insides at a circularly different angle, tongue plucking itself in and out of your gushy entrance simply to have your arousal leaking all down the expanse of his jawline.
When the man tugs himself away to gasp, he's only diving back in half a second later to kiss over your clit and then smear the tip of his tongue around itâshowcasing to you that his skills go beyond mere fire bending and that his tongue has learned how to bend the feel of a new element to you.
Something raw jumps out of your throat and you pant out his name whilst he shakes his head into you and then proceeds to respond to your calls by spelling his name out around your clit.
Then come his fingersâand fuck if they aren't farrr thicker than you were prepared for, initially prodding at your drooling hole, and then carefully pushing into you after a mere tease to that clingy ring of resistance he's met with.
Your lower lip pushes out and you moan just past it, earning his attention for the first time in a while as his eyes come up to find your lewdly-set expression.
"Ah," Using a free hand to wipe some of the slick from his mouth, Zuko moves up towards you and keeps his fingers working your insides, "Don't pout. You can take this much," He encourages, a second digit carefully slipping into you. "See? Two of my fingers, buried so deep inside you like that..." His words earn a particularly filthy squelch. "Shit, you should feel honored by this, sweetheart."
You manage a huff at that, nails chafing into the arm of the throne again, "Y-You and that damn-, ngh, honor..."
He snickers, his thumb poking forward to plumply round your clit, "Tell me I'm wrong. Tell me you don't feel honored to have me this devoted to you."
"Zuko," You moan instead of answering correctly.
Letting it slide due to his soft spot for you, he merely sighs. "Please understand that this is your purpose to me, not abandoning me to go whisper in the ears of Earth Kingdom fools." Zuko explains to you, voice coming out in warm waves against the crown of your ear, "Understood?"
You nod, "Y-Yes, Zuko."
His head cocks to the side, fingers jolting up against your slicked walls to curl, "You address me so formally any other time but now..." He pulls away a few inches to cast his eyes over your expression, fully appreciating how gorgeously you fall apart on just two of his fingers.
He can only begin to imagine how satisfying it would be to see you do the same on his cock. Fuck, you probably wouldn't even be able to handle that, would you?
No, but you'd damn sure try if he let you...
Meeting his gaze, "Yes, my lord." You correct in a short whisper.
For the first time ever, Zuko realizes the title doesn't sound so bad coming from you.
At least, not in this context since his cock promptly hardens through his robes in reaction to that sweet, sweet tone of yours.
He would've spelt his name out into your cunt and split you open on his fingers a long time ago if he knew this would be the result!
A smirk splays out across his wet mouth and he leans in, his breath mingling with your own, "Cum for me, my advisor. Show me where your loyalties lie."
That quickly sends you right over the edge, your cunt clenching and twitching all around his fingers as one of your hands move out to clutch onto his royal clothing.
Breathlessly puffing, "F-Fuuck.."
Zuko watches you closely the entire time, loving the way your thighs quiver, and how good your pussy feels releasing onto his hand.
Only leaning away as you're done to murmur, "See? Now, tell me again about leaving?"
(not proofread, GULP) || banner art by Rororogi Mogera || tags:
đđ youâve.. accidentally summoned a demon? And.. he wants to fuck you?
(trueform!Sukuna smut)
content: plot, nerdjo cameo, FILTHY smut, creampies, multiple orgasms, he has two dicks, monsterfucking (?), a lotttt of smut, degradation, crying, multiple positions/rounds, masturbation, Gojo is a dick
wc: 4.9k! (skip to the àłàż*: for the smutâŠ)
more like this here
àłàż*:
In all honesty, you werenât even mad. Couldnât be, not when youâd been subconsciously begging for somebody to fuck you into your flimsy mattress until you cried; couldnât even be bothered to care that the cock doing it belonged to the demon youâd somehow managed to accidentally summon.
You blame Yaga, because 10 hours ago none of this wouldâve happened.
You blink wearily at the large, monochrome, painfully times new Roman reminder pinned directly in the middle of the bulletin board outside of your lecture hall. Disgruntled students are letting the plaque on the door swing back disrespectfully behind them. It reads: âProfessor Yaga. Department of Humanities, Jujutsu Universityâ in curly cursive, and what you wouldnât give to kick it off and watch it dangle from its patronising little hooks.
The printed reminder reiterates what Yaga was so adamant to inform you all of in class. It reads, in all bold font: âREMINDER: All specialist history students are to turn in their end of term report within two weeks. The report should be on a designated artefact of their choosing, provided it has considerable relevance to their chosen topic. Collect these from the archives.â
You feel like whacking your head against the wall until your brain formulates itself back into a coherent state. Itâs a feeling which certainly does not dissipate when you hear the unmistakable unbothered tone of a certain white haired, cerulean eyed, oh so overconfident astrophysics major from behind you in the corridor and you consider how many pillowcases youâd need to hang yourself.
âHey, I thought you got that whole official research report done, like, weeks ago?â Gojo questions, knowing smile tugging at the corner of his lips while he absentmindedly lifts up the reminder with a nimble finger to look at the other concealed invitations underneath to join student societies he evidently has no intention of ever joining. âBorrrringgg.â He says, puffing out a little exhale to blow a lock of white hair from his eyes.
You groan again and start the long walk down the hallway, soles of your feet muffled on the hideously outdated carpet beneath them. Itâs true, youâve been putting the report off for weeks- you havenât even collected your artefact yet, preferring to spend your evenings slumped over piles of useless colour coded flashcards while your laptop buzzes tauntingly with unchecked emails in the background in synchronous harmony with your phone.
âI can come with you nowâŠthat is, if youâre too scared to go alone.â Gojo offers kindly - albeit slightly teasingly - his slender form practically skipping breezily beside you. He never appears to have any problems with his subject, although you suppose being the strongest student in his course has added swell to his already inflated ego.
âYep. Okay.â You grumble. Your shoulders hurt from the sheer weight of your backpack, straps cutting into your skin even through the sweater. The walk to the museum is short and actually rather pretty; even Gojo, for all of his constant commenting, blabbering about hydrostatic equilibrium and poking at dejected piles of damp leaves with his foot, makes a few passing comments about the scenery.
The museum is old, antique even- you suppose its exterior is designed to mimic the buildingâs contents in a display of status that wouldâve been more effective when it was first built, without being sandwiched between a coffee shop and a public library. Supposedly, their extensive archives contain practically anything a burnt out student such as yourself would ever need for research. A fact Shoko takes advantage of far too much- if you had 500 yen for every time sheâd let you into her dorm, only to be met by the jarring sight of a body part lying suspended in formaldehyde, youâd probably have enough to pay off your student debt.
Your hunch was right- the inside is beautiful. Official looking double doors open onto meticulously tiled floors, a high archway flanked by two large posters boasting their recent Egyptology exhibition leads you through to a map on the wall. You squint past the âyou are here!â arrow, ignore the large label for the astronomy department- although Gojo seems interested- and trace the words right down to the bottom floor, marked simply âarchives (staff and designated students only.)â
By the time you reach the bottom of the spiralling staircase, youâre sure your shoulders are bleeding from the stupid backpack and Gojo hasnât even broken a sweat; heâs still flouncing about like heâs made of majority helium, peering curiously into doorways marked âstaff onlyâ in bold and readjusting his sunglasses so often youâd think heâd die if the outside caught even the slightest glimpse of his irises.
âUm, hello?â You call out uneasily. It echoes. Maybe thereâs nobody here, maybe you wonât have to somewhere to fit the artefact in your dorm, maybe you wonât even have to do the assignment and youâll drop out instead of writing an essay hunched over your laptop until the sun comes up and-
âOh, hello!â A warm voice says. âYou must beâŠâ she squints, curly greying hair tucked neatly behind her ears as she peers down through her reading glasses at what you assume is a checklist on her little desk near the archives. âHistory students, correct?â
You nod. Gojo shakes his head, hair falling perfectly into his eyes, and grins. âToo boring, I prefer to ponder the mysteries of the universe.â So unfailingly pretentious. âIâve got to go,â he says, checking his phone, âSuguru wants to meet up.â He practically springs back up the stairs. Great, so now you really were going to have to carry whatever your artefact was back with you.
The old lady with a faded, once gilded nametag smiles apologetically, adjusts the sleeve of her mauve cardigan and smooths the wrinkles in her skirt. âSo, deary, specialist area? Just so I make sure you get the right one, we canât have you doing somebody elseâs work for them!â
âYeah.â You smile. âOh, right- specialist area- um, the ancient Japanese occult?â Your fingertips twitch nervously at your sides. Youâd be surprised if the museum had anything at all, expecting to receive an apologetic smile coupled with a scroll or a glass vial of somebodyâs blood that would turn out to be animal as soon as it touched a microscope slide.
Instead, what you get is altogether more jarring. The woman falters in her cosy smile, blinking at you in poorly concealed horror like youâve just committed mass murder when she reads the designated artefact printed neatly in plain font next to your name. She clears her throat uneasily and slips on a pair of worn gloves, and you cock a brow.
âWell, itâs just a precaution, Iâm sure you understand. Nothing to be afraid of really, butâŠâ she drops her voice, like something- or someone- is eavesdropping, âIâm not one to believe in things like this very often, but I must warn you to not, whatever you do, unravel the scrolls.â Youâre just about to ask what scrolls when she produces a perfectly regal looking wooden box.
Itâs shiny, alluring, like a siren call. The wood carries etched markings; you can only peer at about a third, itâs all you can really see because the majority of the box is covered in what look like aged bandages, but you know better- revered protective spells, written down repeatedly onto pieces of parchment and wrapped methodically around and around by steady hands. Black and white, black and white⊠youâve seen these before, entwining around âcursedâ objects like a second skin. Theyâre there for a purpose- to keep whatever is inside locked there for eternity. Or, alternatively, to keep people out for eternity.
You squint. Etched into the wood, carved with practiced hands, are two single words:
âRyomen Sukuna.â
âRyomen SukunaâŠâ you repeat back, utterly transfixed.
You take the box in both hands, adoringly interested already, and suddenly you find yourself really wishing youâd started the report earlier; the museum attendant seems to fade into the background, as does everything else. Right now, it seems like youâre being reeled in, gravity dragging all your senses down, down to whatever is coiled up inside the tiny prolonged tomb youâre holding with cold hands.
Everything in your peripherals fades into irrelevant obscurity in comparison to the irresistible pull the smooth paper has on your palms and fingertips as they trace ancient history.
âSo, all in all, weâll need it back in a month. Is that alright, dear?â You should feel bad about ignoring everything sheâs just told you about logistics and legality but you donât really care, not when youâre holding potentially the only thing in the last two gruelling months to remind you why you chose to specialise in the area you did.
âAnd remember-â she calls after you, watching your back ascend up the stairs, âdo not unravel the scrolls!â
The final dregs of late evening sunlight are dashed across your dorm, golden rays bouncing to and fro from spilling across ruffled bedsheets to dripping down your windowsill. It looks serene, peaceful- you should be relaxing, but instead you sit frustratedly hunched over a skewed laptop.
The bright screen mocks your sorry attempts at an introductory paragraph. Every pixel on the screen seems to be laughing at your sheer inability to come up with anything compelling; even with the artefact sitting right there, you just canât feel struck with any form of even meagre inspiration.
Psst.
âWhat the fuck?â Your head whips up, brows furrowed and eyes open in surprise. There is definitely nobody around, or in your dorm, but you could swear you just heard somebody hiss in your ear. Itâs probably just an audio problem going wrong with your shitty laptop, you decide, and resume your previous posture.
Psst.
There it is again- you jolt sideways and almost fall off your chair, which squeaks in protest as you throw your weight unexpectedly to the side. One of your ears feels cold, like somebodyâs just poured freezing water inside; but it isnât wet at all, itâs dry and warm to the touch. You must be going insane.
Exam season insanity, thatâs what it must be- your textbooks glare at you intimidatingly, piles of unread emails feel like theyâre drowning you in harsh reminders veiled behind âkind regardsâ, and you swear your flashcards are changing answers to spite you everytime you pick them up.
A hand absentmindedly snakes down to your bare inner thigh, underneath the soft fabric of your pyjamas. Youâve been so busy lately, too busy to do anything when you get in but work and sleep. Itâs the thought of the report that lies unfinished on the laptop beside you -not even started- that is only half formed before youâre circling at your clit beneath your already sticky panties.
Oh, how could you be expected to write an essay if you were this wound up? You could practically feel the stress melting away like ice being broken into boiling water; every wet swipe of your languid fingers only meant more sensation, a quietly building pressure deep in your warming body.
Hair falls without resistance as your head tips backwards, neck straining in the dregs of sunlight still lazily seeping in through the fuzzy glass. The only noise in the room is the soft whirring from your laptop, gently lapping at your eardrums in quiet tandem with the soft shlick shlick shlick emanating out of your glimmeringly soaked pussy.
Lashes bat at warm cheeks, a long awaited orgasm builds; but itâs not enough, the angle just isnât right- you canât risk moving from your chair to lie on your bed, lest you lose the release youâve been seeking for weeks- and so, you poke your tongue out in concentration while you attempt to clumsily manoeuvre yourself. Your hips lift, your arm nudges just a tad deeper, your other arm angles for support on the desk and-
Thud!
âOh, shit!â The box, the box you were supposed to be studying carefully, had been swiped carelessly onto the carpet and now lies exposed on its hinged side in a pile of helpless parchment scrolls. The wood shines mockingly, daring you to touch it and doom yourself to an even worse punishment from the university you swore wanted to curse you.
You panic and scramble to pick it up, fingers messily swiping over and dirtying the fabric of your panties before clutching at the box. âShit, shit- oh no, please donât all slide off now-!â And itâs like itâs not only your university, but the universe that hates you too, because the second you utter the plea every scroll youâd scooped up slips out of your grasp and lies unravelled all across your floor.
Tears prick the corners of your eyes; you are so, so pissed off right now- all you wanted was to simply orgasm and then get back to work, and instead you were stuck trying to gather and rewrap ancient paper around a fucking box? You groan, and set the box back on your floor before turning your back on it to carefully arrange the scrolls into a pile. Then, you were going to spend a good few hours fixing the mistake.
Except, you never get the chance.
Because, when you stand and straighten up from your crouched position on the floor, youâre face to face with something- or someone- that has to be a figment of your imagination.
The man is tall- he must be at least seven feet, with coral pink hair and inky black tattoos spilling across his slightly tanned skin like a sinfully beautiful oil slick, but the thing that really gets your eyes bulging is the added anatomy.
Four bulky arms.
Four red eyes.
The outline of not one, but two cocks.
You stare up at him in shock horror as he grins and cocks his head to the side, rolling his shoulders like this is routine. Blinking hard, eyes screwing up, you wrench them open again and- heâs still there.
You half heartedly reach a hand out towards his terribly beautiful abdomen, expecting to go straight through him because clearly you were fucking hallucinating, and instead you make contact with warm, hard flesh.
You scream.
Or, at least, try to.
âMmfph!â It comes out as a muffled yell, nowhere near the ear splitting cry for help you were expecting- because whatever that thing was, one of its four hands had come to smother your loud mouth. Tears prick at your eyes again, but this time it isnât from anger or frustration- they come from pure, undulated terror.
âI am not planning to eat you. Calm your hysteria, woman.â He says, far too nonchalantly for a- a what? A spirit, a demon? That has just been released from his ancient confines by a horny university student.
And then it strikes you all at once as you connect the dots- youâd just accidentally summoned a fucking demon. Ryomen Sukuna, the name that occasionally popped up in footnotes of papers about mass killings and curses, was now standing in your room.
You canât even form words, body literally shaking in fear as you gaze up at his towering form. He dwarfs you in every sense of the word; not only is he both taller and wider than you, but you get the distinct feeling that trying to flee would result in your head being rapidly detached from your body, and scarlet being spattered all up the walls.
Swallowing nervously, âWhat- what do you want?â
âWhat do I want? You released me, did you not, human?â
âWell- yes, but it was an accident! Please justâŠâ you feel pathetic, meek, like youâre signing your own metaphorical death warrant with every word, ââŠgo back into the box? Please?â
He laughs, throws his head back and cackles. It sends chills through you-the sound alone is enough to make you quake; but when you get a view of the slit along his stomach that opens to reveal a fucking mouth, one lined with teeth the same length of your extended palm? You almost pass out.
The tongue within lolls out, tasting the air of the room that seems to have stagnated into pure fear. The mouth grins, and you consider if youâve actually died from sleep deprivation and this is hell.
âOh, asking for favours now are we?â He taunts. You nod- oh God, why did you nod? Heâs definitely doing to kill you now, probably use his second mouth to rip out your entrails. âWell, human, what do you have to offer me?â
You blank. What do you have? Money? He doesnât look like he has an interest in the crumpled bank notes at the bottom of your purse. Alcohol? Youâd already drank all your cheap wine. Then, what else? What could you offer an age old demon who hasnât experienced anything remotely pleasurable for centuries?
He grins, sharp teeth bared predatorily. âOh, I have an idea.â You didnât even realise you said it out loud. âYou do?â
âOh, I do, woman.â You shudder thinking heâs planning how best to eat you whole, then flush pink at the huge tent through the rough fabric of his pants.
Well, shit.
You stare, lips parting in shock, voice cracking in something between a plea to let you go and a plea for him to split you open on the twin cocks you knew he had hiding. The latter would probably be out first, if it wasnât for a palm curling around your throat and preventing you from forming coherent speech outside of a dull croak.
âYes, I think youâll do just fine to satisfy me. Now⊠undress yourself.â Two arms uncross themselves from his large chest and yank his clothing down from his pelvis. He ever so briefly lets up the pressure heâs applying onto your neck to enable you to hurriedly rip the baggy shirt and pyjama pants away, until youâre stood in your underwear.
Stood in your bra and soaked panties, nipples peaked through fabric, messy hair falling loosely around your shoulders and flushed cheeks. Sukunaâs clawed hand traces up the curvature of your spine, and a sharp slice reduces your bra to a shred of tattered lace on the carpeted floor.
The tongue on his stomach darts out again, extending itself and lolling grotesquely in the air.
âYes, youâll do juuuuust fine.â
A clammy palm clamps over your mouth in a futile attempt to hide the oh so slutty moans you keep letting out. Youâre riding his mouth, Sukunaâs meaty tongue exploring your insides like heâs trying to map out every single sweet spot that makes you gush- and heâs not using his first mouth.
Because youâre shaking, dripping beads of slick into the gaping maw slashed across his tattooed stomach. The appendage snakes inside of you, prodding expertly at your innermost soft parts and the surrounding teeth glinting into a grin that matches the one spreading across his handsome face.
âWhatâs the matter? Giving in already?â
Desperately, your head shakes in stuttering circles of declination; youâd like to denounce the fact youâre about to start sobbing on his tongue, but the moment the tears start to cling to your lashes Sukuna notices. And oh, does he love that!
âHow pathetic. You humans donât ever know what you want, do you? Youâre crying, and yet youâre still squirming onto my mouth.â Heâs right; as much as youâre whining out in overstimulation, hips stuttering up and pussy clenching around the tongue sneaking inside you, you canât get enough.
And, apparently, neither can he; his eyes sparkle with gleeful delight when two inhumanely thick fingers meet your entrance, working themselves in alongside his own pulsating tongue and crooks them.
He groans, a low and shuddering sound that emanates from deep inside his rumbling chest when he drags the two slick covered fingers up to your lips and prods them inside your open mouth. You suck on instinct, cheeks hollowing and tongue swirling warmly.
âM-more, more-â you hate how greedy you sound, how awfully needy you are as you buck onto his tongue; but Sukuna is nothing if not indulgent, and how could he deny himself the first taste of sex in centuries? Especially not when he had the perfect, soaked woman in front of him, all ripe and his for the taking?
Heâs inclined to grin at your request, dual cocks hardening and straining behind you. Heâs far too strong- evidenced by the way he flips you into your back instantly, tongue swimming its way out of your insides and back to the confines of the stomach maw.
A hand - you arenât sure which one- lies flat on your stomach, keeping you pinned underneath his form. Sukuna groans, ragged breaths landing hot onto your face. And then, youâre gasping and bucking under him because he had the audacity to plug your weepingly empty hole full with just the tip of his first cock, and you already feel fuller than you ever have in your life.
âStay still, brat.â Salmon coloured tresses flit into his eyes, red irises gazing down with some form of reverence heâs probably self aware of and despises its existence; a calloused palm grips one of your breasts, swallowing the soft flesh whole and groping.
A thick thumb rotates over your hardened nipple, catching the way your skin tightens at his uncaring touch and your body arches into it just the same. He feels solid, all hard muscle and holy breath and punishing cock.
Heâs rutting to fit it inside. Sukunaâs cock is nothing less than what youâd initially expected- they must be at least eleven inches each, tanned at the base and a flushed strawberry shade at the sticky tip. Heâs like an animal, purely driven on instinct to fill you up in a way he hasnât had the opportunity to do in what feels like eons.
Youâre unsure how youâll actually manage to take all of him without being literally split apart- his hips are relentless, jackhammering his cock into you meticulously like heâll die if he doesnât feel himself bottom out within your treacly cunt.
And bottom out he does; with one swift thrust, the thick tip of his even thicker cock is snuggled right up against your very cervix. You almost scream, clinging to him and nails digging into his beefy shoulders. You scrabble to find purchase, leaving reddening claw tracks across his skin and tattoos.
âOh my God, I c-canât, I canât take it, sâtoo much-!â
He looks down at you, almost totally straight faced aside from a slight dusting of arousal and amusement. Thereâs an evil looking glint in his eye, and heâs considering something; if youâre sobbing out loud on just one, one he isnât even moving, how will you take both of his cocks?
His hands seem to flow like molasses over your body. Theyâre practiced, and heâs far too indulgent with them. One lies possessively wrapped around your throat, a gentle reminder of how much power he wields over you. A second, still groping aimlessly at your tits. His third and fourth alternate between gripping your hips, and sliding up and down your waist like youâre his.
Against your will, your eager hips start to buck, just so glad theyâre finally being used like this. Your pussy betrays your attempts to keep them still, gushing all over Sukunaâs criminally perfect cock and strip of coral at his pelvis. Oh, how he grins at that! How heâs missed the feeling of being inside somebody!
âLie still.â He commands.
You beg; he seems like the type to respond well to submission. âOh but it feels so good, SâKuna! Just please, please move, please-â
He has half a mind to kill you for impertinence. Instead, he cuts off your babbling with the heaviest thrust youâve ever felt. It knocks what little air was left in your lungs right up your throat to be released as a squeaky moan that catches on the rally of whines barrelling straight after it. His cock is huge, and thick, and curved just perfectly enough to hit every single one of your sweet spots with an accuracy that you arenât even sure you possess yourself.
It feels so good, Sukunaâs tip drawing little hearts onto your walls with pre every time he pulls out. Youâre dripping, shiny beads of pure arousal seeping from your slit and only adding to the speed he can drive in and out of you with. Thereâs a gorgeously deep flush on his cheeks, and youâre just so dazedly clinging onto his flesh that youâre blind to everything else.
You donât even hear anything; all thatâs seeping inside of your fucked out eardums are moans, the slapping of skin on skin and heavy breaths; so of course youâre oblivious to the sound of the gaping grin on Ryomen Sukunaâs chiselled stomach widening, stretchinggggggg open to reveal the wet appendage of his slimy tongue again.
When you feel it, the pressure of his absurdly mobile tongue massaging trendy little circles onto your swollen clit, you jolt in shock and cum virtually immediately. The orgasm is such a violently sudden surprise it almost knocks you out; it has your back arching and pussy squeezing like a vice, waves of pleasure cascading down your body like electricity that conducts directly to Sukuna.
His chest heaves, and suddenly heâs flipping you onto the soft skin of your stomach so he can pound into you from behind. He regrets the loss of your warm tits rolling into his palms, but he likes the feeling of your supple ass smacking against his hips even more.
You try to cry out, maybe to ask for him to go harder or maybe to tell him youâre about to pass out, or just maybeeee it involves the creaking bed frame below you. Not that he gives a fuck- why would he, Ryomen Sukuna, the King of Curses care about the state of a flimsy human mattress?
Even as the springs squeak in warning, he continues to pound into you. And then, just a you can feel yourself beginning to pulse again, he stops- he starts to pull out, and youâre floored by it. Why? But then, you feel the invasive prodding of another head at your pussy and your glossy eyes widen.
Oh, he has two.
Ah.
How could you forget?
You donât think youâre likely to ever forget, when heâs so primally growling into your shoulder blades and easing his way in alongside his first cock.
âAh, sâtoo much, sâtoo much!â
In an uncharacteristic display of nicety, he calmly gathers your hair in a fist and drags it away from your neck to rest his forehead on the dewy skin. âDonât go running away now, woman. Take me.â
And take him you will; the matching curved, shiny tips bob inside you and you cry at the excruciating stretch. But, after the pain comes pleasure; you feel so full, so whole, like nothing could possibly ever compare to this feeling again. His teeth are grinding down onto each other almost as hard as his hips are grinding into you.
Youâre gasping, sputtering- âoh, ohhhh mâgonna cum again, donât stop-â
Heâs starting to lose it now, you can tell, as he jostles your pliant body back into his and feels the way your velvety walls tighten around him like expensive silk ribbons. You were parting like fabric around his cocks, completely ready for him, and he was just so ravenous for it all.
Your body seizes, tightens and compresses and then- and then youâre spasming around him, pussy gushing wave upon wave of liquid as you splash all across his pelvis and make a sopping mess of your bedsheets. He doesnât miss a beat- second mouth moving from its ministrations on your perky clit to suck up every single dewy drop youâd give him.
He coaxes it all out of you, both mouths groaning at the taste and sight of your stuffed pussy. Sukuna may be an arrogant, egotistical, selfish bastard but he can admit he knows his limits- and this might be one of them. An invisible barrier heâs hurtling towards, personified in every sob that wrenches from your wrecked lungs and every pathetic pulse of your cunt around his greedy cocks.
Heâs almost angry about how good you feel, saccharine walls sucking him up and deafening all his senses but his carnal needs. His hips move on their own, his hand clenches down around your marked up throat on instinct. Sukunaâs cocks stutter, roving in sloppy lineal rhythm within you and your sweetly dripping cunt.
His cum is warm, thick and syrupy- it dribbles from both tips, coating your insides in such a debauched redecoration. He grunts right into your ear, and your lashes flutter shut right on cue for your eyes to roll back into your skull.
His cocks swab the veils of white back inside, although he doesnât have an aversion to watching with all four eyes as his seed slowly drip-drip-drips out of your used pussy. The tongue from his second mouth, for the final time, swipes across your entrance and you jerk away half heartedly, lacking the energy to do much else before you promptly pass out at the feeling of him hardening inside you again.
When you wake up, heâs gone, and the box remains neatly wrapped in scrolls on your desk, alongside the dreaded laptop and a messy pile of clothes. Itâs then that you realise youâre still completely nude, and-
And heâs still dripping out of you.
àłàż*:
masterlist
a/n: eek! sudden comeback after Kinktober! Thank you so much for reading- comments are always appreciated!
đđ Youâre not thattttt much of a teacherâs pet, you swear! Well, maybe you are- but is it your fault that your law professor has such sexy hands? Is it your fault that your literature professor has such a gorgeous voice? And⊠is it your fault for fucking them both- at the same time..?
| paring: Nanami x reader x Higuruma
| content: literature professor Nanami, law professor Higuruma, age gap, college au, reader craves academic validation, pet names (love, darling, good girl), literature references, theyâre kinda pervy, making out/kissing, riding Higurumaâs nose, oral (f. recieving), bent over the desk, p in v, creampies, riding, dirty talk, praise
| wc: 3.7k
a/n: the first half of my 6k special, 2x3 =6!
more like this
àłàż*:
â-and your integration of newer amendments to the existing legislation regarding property ownership was⊠well, flawless.â Your law professor, Hiromi Higuruma, concludes, flicking through the pages of ink that comprise your essay. âYou could possibly add more principles, although youâve almost certainly mastered everything else.â
Beaming, âThank you! I wasnât too sure on the citations, but that makes me feel a lot better.â You laugh, reaching out to grab your essay, now covered in a few lines of red-inked feedback. Higuruma stops you by holding on to the leafs of paper, the scent of his cologne swirling around your senses.
âActually,â he murmurs, pulling loosely at his collar, âIâd like to keep this one. Maybe Iâll show it to my students as an exemplary piece.â
You blink, surprised. âReally? Iâm- thank you!â
He just smiles, lips pressed together like heâs afraid of what heâll say if he opens them again. Itâs no secret Higuruma is known on campus as untouchable- the combination of his tired eyes and rough voice ward many off; but not you.
No, you want him so badly itâs almost impossible not to start fantasising when youâre around him, mind wandering from endless clauses of subsections of paragraphs to what heâd feel like standing behind you, slacks pressing into your ass-
âWell, I have to go- I have a literature lecture next, but I appreciated the talk!â You say suddenly, nervously, hoisting your bag over the shoulder of your jacket.
Two hours later, Kento Nanamiâs blonde hair catches in the sunlight as he talks across to you at his desk, hands flexing on the mahogany below. Your mouth parts just so as you watch the way his fingers thumb at the corners of your essay, paragraphs of analysis bordered with his neat handwriting.
âOverall, Iâd say this requires little improvement.â He smiles, eyes half lidded and unlawfully hot behind his glasses. âYouâre picking up on metaphors most wouldnât think to mention- the connection between Apollo- or Phoebus, whichever you prefer-â he says, âand the Greek myth of Daphne the nymph is truly insightful.â
You almost blush. God, heâs so attractive- the way his dark blue sleeves are rolled up to his elbows, tanned forearms on show, coupled with the size of the biceps straining at the expensive fabric makes your thighs clench below the pencil skirt you wear especially for him.
âI should be going.â You blurt, cheeks warming the longer he looks at you like he genuinely believes in your intelligence and wants to reach inside your consciousness to drag it all out. âI have some things I need to, uh, catch up on.â
Nanami blinks, somewhat surprised. âWell, if you insist. Allow me to hold the door open for you, then.â
You almost drool when he does so, hand looming beside your head and your essay lying flat on his desk. âAs a matter of fact, I have some things I need to catch up on, too. I have a colleague who wanted to discuss something with me.â
You nod once, understandingly, and exit.
ââ â â â
The library is mostly silent. Stacks of books- maroon, black, gilded with gold- line the plentiful shelves, and the room smells of old paper. Itâs comforting, like a warm drink or a soft pillow for you to lean on while you revise through your pages upon pages of notes.
âOkay...â You whisper, âproperty law⊠abandonmentâŠâ your index finger swipes across the laptopâs touchpad, navigating to your literature notes instead. âByron⊠Montaigne⊠Mary Wollstonecraft- no, Shelley, Wollstonecraft was her mother- ugh, I canât concentrate.â
You huff and snap your laptop closed. Itâs not your fault you canât concentrate, you think sullenly. Itâs theirs.
Every time you open an anthology, itâs Nanamiâs low voice in your head, fingers tracing the words on the page like scripture instead of a long-dead poetâs musings about the glorious sun and a shimmering lake and whatever else they felt like writing about, your brain twisting metaphors of nature into something applicable to the innate desire you feel to have his hand wrapped around your throat.
Every time you try and formulate a counter argument, you picture Higurumaâs hands around the gavel he uses to gain attention in lectures, the handle disappearing under the expanse of skin. Itâs erotic in a way you feel bad about, guilt slipping into your bloodstream when you wonder what those same hands would feel like on your hips or thighs.
Who gave them the right? You think, filing your laptop into your bag alongside a few folders of handwritten, highlighted notes. Maybe you do crave academic validation from time to time, and maybe itâs only made worse by how painfully hot they both are- but seriously!
Youâre still grumbling under your breath about it by the time you exit the library, eyes fixed firmly on the inside of your bag as you half-heartedly cram your phone into the inside pocket. You huff, âStupid fucking-â
âAh, language.â
You freeze, spine straightening before spinning around so quickly your head hurts. âProfessor Nana- oh, and Professor Higuruma, too.â Your throat suddenly feels far too tight, your skirt too short, your stockings too thin. Too rippable.
âI didnât know you two-â
âKnew each other?â Higuruma offers, hands tucked into the pockets of his slacks. âYes, me and Kento do enjoy a little discussion from time to time- not all of them academic, either.â You gawk. Seriously?
Nanami laughs. âAlthough, perhaps this one was.â He turns to you, sleeves still rolled to his elbows- fuck- and speaks. âWe were just talking about⊠well, about you.â
âMe?â You splutter, âwhy?â
âWell, simply put,â Higuruma explains, sleepy eyes locked calmly on your face, âwe think your work is wonderful; we- not just me and Kento here, but the entire faculty- offer special one-to-one feedback sessions for students we feel possess high potential.â
âSo- youâre saying I possess high potential?â You ask, brows furrowing, that little craving for validation pooling in the back of your mind again.
âWe are.â Nanami confirms, âand weâd like to hold a session with you wherein we discuss our separate recommendations. The program, should you excel- which Iâm sure you will-â you almost twitch at the praise, â- additionally offers connections to future employers.â
âI- yes, thank you!â You say, cheeks uncomfortably pink as they both stare down at you. Did you forget to button your blouse? Can they see your bra?
You pause, unsure of what to say next as you awkwardly nod. âIâm, uh⊠yeah. Thank you- you both, I mean.â You leave before you can embarrass yourself more, cheeks warm against the evening breeze.
Youâre too focused on getting home and screaming into your pillow to notice- but if youâd looked back, maybe you wouldâve seen the dual smirks playing on their faces.
Maybe if youâd looked down instead of gazing into their expectant eyes, you wouldâve spotted your blouse was, in fact, open lower than you thought.
âLace.â Nanami mutters, watching you leave.
âDo you think she has matching panties?â Higuruma wonders aloud, foot tapping absentmindedly against the floor. Nanami inhales in a sharp breath that hitches against his teeth. âWeâll find out.â
ââ â â â
âSir?â You call, nervously pushing open the foreboding door to Higurumaâs office with a clammy palm, âare you here? Iâve brought my new essay on manslaughter regulations-â
âYes, just sit there for me, please.â He rumbles from behind you. You almost scream- when did he get there?- but it doesnât make it past your lungs, filtering out into a quiet breath when you peer up at him.
Higuruma is wearing his regular suit, albeit tie slightly loosened. You take your seat as asked, bag slumping beside you with a soft thud.
âAh, Hiromi. On time as always.â
What?
âProfessor?â The seat youâre sat on suddenly feels far too low, the room too cramped as Nanami enters your bubble of personal space and smiles. âDonât mind me, Hiromi thought it best we both attend.â
âBut you donât even teach law-â
âGrammar, citations, analysis,â he lists off on his awfully thick fingers, âcritical thinking, balanced line of argument⊠literature goes far deeper than you think. Although, if youâd like, I can leave-â
âNo!â You hurry, âno, stay.â Why would you say that? You can barely focus with one of them, surrounded by students- how are you going to handle both of them, this personally?
At your outburst, the two men share an unreadable look above your head- one that can only be described as interest.
âVery well. Shall I take a look?â Nanami begins, leaning down beside your left shoulder to click his pen into readiness. âActually, Kento,â Higuruma interrupts, crowding in on your right side, âIâd like to go first.â
You smile awkwardly. âBoth at once, maybe?â Cheeks warming at your accidental innuendo, you opt for silence instead as they both turn back to the paper.
Time passes like molasses, syrupy and cloying as your breathing syncs up with that of your professorsâ. The close proximity is doing something evil to your brain; you can almost taste their cologne, their mouths occasionally opening to roll praise from their sharp tongues.
âVery well done.â
âWonderful.â
âPerfect.â
And, the nail in your proverbial coffin, spoke from Nanamiâs lips-
âGood girl, doing so well here. Hm?â
âWhere?â You ask breathlessly, already uncomfortable levels of soaked considering youâve been unable to move for the last twenty minutes. On the way to point, Nanamiâs hand just brushes where yours are clammily clasped on the wood of the desk and your breath hitches.
He stops for a second, squinting, then resumes his gentle praise; your thighs rub together under the table. Youâre totally crowded in by now, their larger forms squeezing against your sides until your elbows are almost touching.
Floaty material parts at the neckline of your blouse, and youâre uncomfortably aware of the excess cleavage your position is providing you with. Surely theyâd be able to see it- as much as you want them to look, youâre awfully self aware of how much of your chest is visible to the two very much older men.
Fingers fumble with the buttons, attempting to be inconspicuous- but they notice. Of course they do. Two pairs of eyes swivel in synchronicity to your chest, to the cups of lace decorating your cleavage, and you hear Higurumaâs breath stop.
âSorry, did I do something wrong?â You pause in the middle of doing your buttons up, the gesture forgotten as Nanamiâs eyes bore into your skin. âWhy did you st-â
And itâs Nanami who clears his throat first. âYouâre showing an awful amount of cleavage to be considered professional.â Your eyes widen, âbut I suppose itâs our fault for being so close.â
âNo, I-â you begin, panicked, but your law professor cuts you off. âMmm⊠I didnât pin you for a frills woman. Is that a bow?â
Nanami laughs, the air it emits tickling your ear as your mouth opens and closes like a fish. âDid you think we wouldnât notice, darling?â
Darling. You flood your underwear just at the way the pet name rolls so fluidly from his tongue. âNotice what-?â
âThe staring at my fingers while I talk about the difference between iambic pentameter and tetrameter in prose.â
âThe bending over in front of me to pick up pencils that we donât even require in mock trials.â
For once in your life, you make a decision to not be speechless when faced with your professors; although, you may as well be speechless when Higuruma eagerly accepts your mouth on his.
He groans into it, bumpy nose brushing yours as his hand comes to cradle your jaw and deepen the kiss. âFuck, you taste good-â he says, words muffled against your teeth.
âItâs strawberry.â You gasp quietly, his tongue slipping across your balmy lips, â...you like it?â
âIs that the one youâre always applying in lectures, staring right at me?â Nanami queries into your ear, enamel of his teeth nipping gently at your neck. âI can barely control myself. Wanted to walk up there and kiss you-â
Your head spins as his hand tugs you away from Higuruma, your literature professor absolutely devouring the lips heâs been dying to taste for months. "Like this." True to his every word, Kento Nanami kisses like he's been starving; tongue stuffing into your maw, slicking across your teeth nastily.
A sound of surprise melts into Nanamiâs gentle mouth, before youâre being unceremoniously ripped away again.
Youâre not quite sure who moves first.
Thereâs a sudden sound of crashing as your chair clatters to the floor, a few hissing sounds that mark the release of metal zippers and the gentle hush of your own fingers undoing the buttons on your blouse fully, the airy fabric dropping to the floor; all youâre truly sure of is that, suddenly, youâre bent flat over the desk with Hiromi Higurumaâs face shoved between your thighs.
âOhmygod.â The jarbled expression is almost punched out of you, the very tip of Higurumaâs bumpy nose slithering across your clit as you grinddd your hips back into his face.
âSâgood.â He groans, hands spreading you apart wider so he can stare straight up at the slightest little arch in your back, âfuck, Kento, sheâs so cute.â
Your cheeks warm, hips wriggling for more friction than the smarmy slide of his nose and lips. And Higuruma has spent his entire life trying to help people- has made a career out of it, in fact- so who is he to deny somebody?
Especially when the reward is this sweet, he thinks vaguely as he becomes aware of the smear of slick across his chin.
âIâm gonna- fuck-â you reel, slumping against his nose for all itâs worth. And then, just as your stomach tightens- thereâs a chaste kiss being planted to your thigh as your orgasm is ripped away, ebbing into unsatisfying nothingness.
âWhat?â Gasping, indignant, and almost completely naked, you glare up at the man in front of you. âI was gonna cum!â
âWe know, thatâs why Iâm here.â God, his voice; itâs even worse now, the evidence of your ruined orgasm dripping down your thighs as your literature professor stands behind you , hand threaded through your hair to hold your cheek to cold wood.
âNanami-â
âJust stay still, darling. Okay?â
You nod unseeingly, as obedient to your professor as always. âOka-hnng!â
Fuck, heâs huge- sinking himself in slowly, gently, rocking his hips until your drooling cunt is pulled flush to the golden hairs trailing to his base. Nanami huffs, a groan rumbling at the back of his throat.
Your nails scrabble uselessly at the desk, fresh manicure chipping on the shiny surface as you try to keep up with Nanamiâs pace.
Itâs not too quick, but thatâs the worst part; heâs dragging it out, so much so you can feel the catch of his flushed tip when it notches at your entrance only to slide back in.
âDo you know how- fuck- how long Iâve wanted to do this?â He breathes into your ear, the smooth material of his shirt long gone to make way for his abdomen to plaster to your back.
âN-no-â
âLonger than you think. When youâd talk to me after class, I could always see down your shirt. Pink lace, a black push-up sometimes, grey cotton-â
Your head spins as your gentlemanly professor accurately lists off the contents of your entire underwear drawer. But you havenât seen your pink bra since last month-
âNeither have I.â Nanami hums. Fuck, did you say that out loud?
âThat long?â You squeal, cunt squeezing his thickness as it prods teasingly at your springy insides.
âActually, now you mention it, I havenât seen that bra for a while either.â Your head snaps to the front of the desk, cheek unsticking from the wood with an uncomfortable pop!
Higuruma. In the haze of Nanamiâs ministrations, youâd somehow completely forgotten his presence- but youâre aware now, perhaps far too much so.
His hand is wrapped tightly around the veined length of his cock, fingers dripping with pre. Thereâs so much that the globules mesh with his happy trail, shimmering in your field of vision; every few strokes, his thumb runs over the leaking slit and Higurumaâs hips buck.
Breathing feels constricted, an impossible task when youâre like this. Nanami is still pressed against you, your tits squishing against the desk as his cock bullies against your sensitive spots.
The visual of Higuruma working his cock, biting his lip so prettily as he stares unashamedly at your fucked out face, mixes with the physical feeling of Nanami inside you.
Both of those cocktail messily with the fact that youâre actually fucking your professors; every secret fantasy youâve thought about while penning essays, every glowing review of theirs youâve internally screamed over, has all come to a head inside Higurumaâs office. And youâre going to cum from it.
Emily Dickinson writes of acceptance.
Pablo Neruda writes about inevitability.
Both of those concepts, literary or not, are things you canât escape from as your orgasm slides into your veins, warmth blooming in your lower abdomen as Nanamiâs talented fingers slip to rub your clit.
âOhh fuck-â you moan, hands balling up into fists. The small curses you keep spouting carry you through your orgasm like a mantra; Nanamiâs vision of your messy hair becomes blurry as he stutters in rhythm, glossy strings of slick snapping when he forces himself out just to watch them drip.
Soft lips plant a kiss against your damp temple, your chest visibly heaving when Nanami flips you onto your back. Your eyes are pleading, glassy and unfocused; as much as Nanami wants to be greedy and take you all for himself, he does pride himself on his generosity.
Sometimes.
âHigurumaâŠâ you pant, legs wobbly and useless when you try to snap them closed.
For a brief moment, you think heâs going to spread your hips impossibly wider, large hands dwarfing the bruised skin of your hips. His tongue clicks, displeased. âKento, thatâs hardly kind.â
Nanamiâs face is still painted with pink, and he just stares down at the bruises with an oddly satisfied smile tugging at his features. âYes, I suppose it wasnât.â
âWell,â the law professor says firmly, âcome on, pretty. Weâll go at your pace, hm?â The words are whispered in your ear as he carries you to a spare armchair, settling down into the seat as you straddle his hips.
The armchair is plush and spacious, cushions wide enough for you to comfortably sink your knees into as his pained tip just nudges your dripping entrance, the remnants of your round with Nanami still seeping out and cloying.
Speaking of Nanami- heâs positioned himself beside you, just watching observantly as you test how Higuruma stretches you out.
It takes a few tries, many hummed words of encouragement and praise- but he finally seats himself fully inside you, head tipping back onto the armchair with a loud groan that makes you flutter around him.
âMove when- shit- when you feel like it, love.â He breathes, hands resting at your waist as your hips experimentally roll forwards. Words fail you- the syllables get tangled with whines at the back of your throat, breathy pants scalding against Higurumaâs neck when you slump forwards.
âI canât.â You whine, nails scraping at his shoulders. Nanami coos, hands pressing coolingly against the hot skin of your spine. âNow, Hiromi⊠I thought you didnât want to be cruel? Help her.â
âHelp?â You repeat dumbly, still pathetically grinding your clit against Higurumaâs pelvis even as Nanami soothes your back. And when his favourite student looks at him like that, all glossy eyed and pouting, fucked out on just a few thrusts?
âOf c-course-â he grits out through clenched enamel, fingers clamping down upon the smooth curve of your hips to bounce you up and down on his cock like a doll.
You wail. âHiguruma-!â The ex-lawyer furrows his brows, displeased. âNow, Iâd prefer Hiromi, love.â
âHiro-hck- Hiromiii-â
Smiling, pupils blown, Higurumaâs hips are emboldened to force his cock impossibly deeper; your skin dimples easily under his grip, slick squelching between your bodies as he rocks below you.
A digit prods at your lips, swiping up the remnants of strawberry lipbalm from before- except both of Higurumaâs hands are still firmly planted on your skin, fingers rolling starry-eyed circles over your sensitive clit.
âOpen up fâme, darling.â Nanami croons, pressing the salty skin of his thumb inside your mouth for you to automatically suckle on. âShh, wouldnât want anybody hearing, would you?â
You shake your head vehemently, drool sparkling from the corners of your kiss-swollen lips. âNo,â vocals slurred and awfully slutty as you turn your half-lidded gaze back to Higuruma, âno, sir.â
He chokes, hips battering even harsher than before- so much for setting your own pace!- and Nanami just replaces his thumb with two fingers, dulling the moans threatening to echo from the walls of the office.
The surprisingly toned abdomen below you tenses in on itself as your law professor stutters into his long-awaited high, spurts of alabastrine pooling and dripping down your thighs as he jolts into you. The noise that rips from him into your ear is obscene, a breathy groan that makes you whimper into his skin.
The second orgasm is cruel, jagged at the edges as itâs wrenched out of you suddenly by the overwhelming feeling of being filled for a second time; itâs almost against your will how strong it hits you, waves of pleasure cascading from your scalp to your thighs as you twitch pathetically on Higurumaâs lap.
Nanamiâs the one to work you through it, large hand stroking strings of hair back from your clammy forehead as Higuruma lies there, totally spent, hands lazily wrapped around you as a tear slides down your cheek.
âYou did so well for us.â One of them- you arenât sure which- murmurs into the heated air around your body.
âSo well,â the other agrees, âgood girl.â The pet name gives it away as Nanami, you realise, smiling stupidly against Higurumaâs shoulder.
âSoâŠâ you say weakly, voice hoarse, âis this grounds for extra credit?â
Slightly clipped, the seriousness tainted with a foggy haze of arousal, the blonde man answers first. âNo, I donât think so. Nice try, though, darling.â
âI think we got off track.â Higuruma mumbles, hands limp on your waist as he smiles lopsidedly. âI think youâll have to come back next week.â
àłàż*:
masterlist
a/n: this is like total cheeks because I was supposed to post a different fic but as I was editing I accidentally deleted all 3,000 words and then had a mental breakdown with tears so you can read this while I rewrite the original post...
in case you were wondering, the works I reference in this are:
"Song", by William Blake (the poem Nanami comments on at the beginning)
"A Vindication of The Rights of Man" / "Frankenstein" (their respective popular works) by Mary Wollstonecraft + Mary Shelley
anything from Lord Byron's works, although I like "She Walks in Beauty" !
"Of Cannibals" / "Des Cannibales" by Montaigne (not specifically referenced although I had it in mind when I noted him)
"Because I Could Not Stop for Death" by Emily Dickinson (amongst her other works- I would recommend "As Imperceptibly as Grief")
a general sentiment ("You can cut all the flowers but you cannot keep Spring from coming") from Pablo Neruda, no specific work cited for this ref <3
thank you sosooo much for reading! Have a lovely week, comments appreciated! <33
your body is sprawled out on the bed. your legs spread open leaving your sensitive pussy twitching. you were left raw and exposed. your poor pussy suffering endless teasing what felt like was going on for hours on end.
a wet slap lands on your pussy, your body jolt and earning a whine from you. âsee how wet she is?â you could snickering from both suguru and satoru filling the room. âour filthy slut.â
âwho was it baby, making you this wet, hm?â your hips bucked up as suguru thumb rubbing right circles on your clit.
âyouâ s-sugu?â you whimpered. you felt another slap against your squelching pussy.
âwrong again, sweet girl.â gojo fake pouts âaw. poor baby.â you still canât see, but you can feel everything. both their eyes watching you clench around nothing.
âplease. I need to cum soâso bad ah.â you begged hips bucking up after another slap landed on your cunt. âsugu . . . toru. please.â
âthe slut asked so nicely.â suguru laughed, thick tongue licked between your slick folds, drool dripping down his chin taking in your sweet arousal. satoru leaving a trail of wet french kisses on your inner thigh. the tip of suguru tongue circling your sensitive clit, lips closed around your clit sucking on the sensitive nub letting out a hum.
satoru pries open your thighs wider, pinning it against the bed before delivering a glob of spit on your dripping hole, tongue thirsting in and out of your hole. you gasp, your back arched off the bed both your hands flying down to grip onto their hair. you can practically taste your orgasm coming.
âmâim gonnaâ ngh cum ahh. .w-wait!â
ânuh uh. câmon cum for us, gorgeous.â satoru groans both their tongues licking your pussy simultaneously. both eating away at your sloppy pussy. tongues occasionally touching each other, mixed salivas dripping to your ass. âcum for us pretty girl.â suguru bit back a moan.
you gasp, legs trembling uncontrollably with tears running down your hot cheeks. until that cord in your belly snaps releasing a stream of squirt spills out of you. your chest heaved, letting out shallow breaths.
âgood girl. . . but we arenât done with you quite yet.â
đđ Youâre not thattttt much of a teacherâs pet, you swear! Well, maybe you are- but is it your fault that your law professor has such sexy hands? Is it your fault that your literature professor has such a gorgeous voice? And⊠is it your fault for fucking them both- at the same time..?
| paring: Nanami x reader x Higuruma
| content: literature professor Nanami, law professor Higuruma, age gap, college au, reader craves academic validation, pet names (love, darling, good girl), literature references, theyâre kinda pervy, making out/kissing, riding Higurumaâs nose, oral (f. recieving), bent over the desk, p in v, creampies, riding, dirty talk, praise
| wc: 3.7k
a/n: the first half of my 6k special, 2x3 =6!
more like this
àłàż*:
â-and your integration of newer amendments to the existing legislation regarding property ownership was⊠well, flawless.â Your law professor, Hiromi Higuruma, concludes, flicking through the pages of ink that comprise your essay. âYou could possibly add more principles, although youâve almost certainly mastered everything else.â
Beaming, âThank you! I wasnât too sure on the citations, but that makes me feel a lot better.â You laugh, reaching out to grab your essay, now covered in a few lines of red-inked feedback. Higuruma stops you by holding on to the leafs of paper, the scent of his cologne swirling around your senses.
âActually,â he murmurs, pulling loosely at his collar, âIâd like to keep this one. Maybe Iâll show it to my students as an exemplary piece.â
You blink, surprised. âReally? Iâm- thank you!â
He just smiles, lips pressed together like heâs afraid of what heâll say if he opens them again. Itâs no secret Higuruma is known on campus as untouchable- the combination of his tired eyes and rough voice ward many off; but not you.
No, you want him so badly itâs almost impossible not to start fantasising when youâre around him, mind wandering from endless clauses of subsections of paragraphs to what heâd feel like standing behind you, slacks pressing into your ass-
âWell, I have to go- I have a literature lecture next, but I appreciated the talk!â You say suddenly, nervously, hoisting your bag over the shoulder of your jacket.
Two hours later, Kento Nanamiâs blonde hair catches in the sunlight as he talks across to you at his desk, hands flexing on the mahogany below. Your mouth parts just so as you watch the way his fingers thumb at the corners of your essay, paragraphs of analysis bordered with his neat handwriting.
âOverall, Iâd say this requires little improvement.â He smiles, eyes half lidded and unlawfully hot behind his glasses. âYouâre picking up on metaphors most wouldnât think to mention- the connection between Apollo- or Phoebus, whichever you prefer-â he says, âand the Greek myth of Daphne the nymph is truly insightful.â
You almost blush. God, heâs so attractive- the way his dark blue sleeves are rolled up to his elbows, tanned forearms on show, coupled with the size of the biceps straining at the expensive fabric makes your thighs clench below the pencil skirt you wear especially for him.
âI should be going.â You blurt, cheeks warming the longer he looks at you like he genuinely believes in your intelligence and wants to reach inside your consciousness to drag it all out. âI have some things I need to, uh, catch up on.â
Nanami blinks, somewhat surprised. âWell, if you insist. Allow me to hold the door open for you, then.â
You almost drool when he does so, hand looming beside your head and your essay lying flat on his desk. âAs a matter of fact, I have some things I need to catch up on, too. I have a colleague who wanted to discuss something with me.â
You nod once, understandingly, and exit.
ââ â â â
The library is mostly silent. Stacks of books- maroon, black, gilded with gold- line the plentiful shelves, and the room smells of old paper. Itâs comforting, like a warm drink or a soft pillow for you to lean on while you revise through your pages upon pages of notes.
âOkay...â You whisper, âproperty law⊠abandonmentâŠâ your index finger swipes across the laptopâs touchpad, navigating to your literature notes instead. âByron⊠Montaigne⊠Mary Wollstonecraft- no, Shelley, Wollstonecraft was her mother- ugh, I canât concentrate.â
You huff and snap your laptop closed. Itâs not your fault you canât concentrate, you think sullenly. Itâs theirs.
Every time you open an anthology, itâs Nanamiâs low voice in your head, fingers tracing the words on the page like scripture instead of a long-dead poetâs musings about the glorious sun and a shimmering lake and whatever else they felt like writing about, your brain twisting metaphors of nature into something applicable to the innate desire you feel to have his hand wrapped around your throat.
Every time you try and formulate a counter argument, you picture Higurumaâs hands around the gavel he uses to gain attention in lectures, the handle disappearing under the expanse of skin. Itâs erotic in a way you feel bad about, guilt slipping into your bloodstream when you wonder what those same hands would feel like on your hips or thighs.
Who gave them the right? You think, filing your laptop into your bag alongside a few folders of handwritten, highlighted notes. Maybe you do crave academic validation from time to time, and maybe itâs only made worse by how painfully hot they both are- but seriously!
Youâre still grumbling under your breath about it by the time you exit the library, eyes fixed firmly on the inside of your bag as you half-heartedly cram your phone into the inside pocket. You huff, âStupid fucking-â
âAh, language.â
You freeze, spine straightening before spinning around so quickly your head hurts. âProfessor Nana- oh, and Professor Higuruma, too.â Your throat suddenly feels far too tight, your skirt too short, your stockings too thin. Too rippable.
âI didnât know you two-â
âKnew each other?â Higuruma offers, hands tucked into the pockets of his slacks. âYes, me and Kento do enjoy a little discussion from time to time- not all of them academic, either.â You gawk. Seriously?
Nanami laughs. âAlthough, perhaps this one was.â He turns to you, sleeves still rolled to his elbows- fuck- and speaks. âWe were just talking about⊠well, about you.â
âMe?â You splutter, âwhy?â
âWell, simply put,â Higuruma explains, sleepy eyes locked calmly on your face, âwe think your work is wonderful; we- not just me and Kento here, but the entire faculty- offer special one-to-one feedback sessions for students we feel possess high potential.â
âSo- youâre saying I possess high potential?â You ask, brows furrowing, that little craving for validation pooling in the back of your mind again.
âWe are.â Nanami confirms, âand weâd like to hold a session with you wherein we discuss our separate recommendations. The program, should you excel- which Iâm sure you will-â you almost twitch at the praise, â- additionally offers connections to future employers.â
âI- yes, thank you!â You say, cheeks uncomfortably pink as they both stare down at you. Did you forget to button your blouse? Can they see your bra?
You pause, unsure of what to say next as you awkwardly nod. âIâm, uh⊠yeah. Thank you- you both, I mean.â You leave before you can embarrass yourself more, cheeks warm against the evening breeze.
Youâre too focused on getting home and screaming into your pillow to notice- but if youâd looked back, maybe you wouldâve seen the dual smirks playing on their faces.
Maybe if youâd looked down instead of gazing into their expectant eyes, you wouldâve spotted your blouse was, in fact, open lower than you thought.
âLace.â Nanami mutters, watching you leave.
âDo you think she has matching panties?â Higuruma wonders aloud, foot tapping absentmindedly against the floor. Nanami inhales in a sharp breath that hitches against his teeth. âWeâll find out.â
ââ â â â
âSir?â You call, nervously pushing open the foreboding door to Higurumaâs office with a clammy palm, âare you here? Iâve brought my new essay on manslaughter regulations-â
âYes, just sit there for me, please.â He rumbles from behind you. You almost scream- when did he get there?- but it doesnât make it past your lungs, filtering out into a quiet breath when you peer up at him.
Higuruma is wearing his regular suit, albeit tie slightly loosened. You take your seat as asked, bag slumping beside you with a soft thud.
âAh, Hiromi. On time as always.â
What?
âProfessor?â The seat youâre sat on suddenly feels far too low, the room too cramped as Nanami enters your bubble of personal space and smiles. âDonât mind me, Hiromi thought it best we both attend.â
âBut you donât even teach law-â
âGrammar, citations, analysis,â he lists off on his awfully thick fingers, âcritical thinking, balanced line of argument⊠literature goes far deeper than you think. Although, if youâd like, I can leave-â
âNo!â You hurry, âno, stay.â Why would you say that? You can barely focus with one of them, surrounded by students- how are you going to handle both of them, this personally?
At your outburst, the two men share an unreadable look above your head- one that can only be described as interest.
âVery well. Shall I take a look?â Nanami begins, leaning down beside your left shoulder to click his pen into readiness. âActually, Kento,â Higuruma interrupts, crowding in on your right side, âIâd like to go first.â
You smile awkwardly. âBoth at once, maybe?â Cheeks warming at your accidental innuendo, you opt for silence instead as they both turn back to the paper.
Time passes like molasses, syrupy and cloying as your breathing syncs up with that of your professorsâ. The close proximity is doing something evil to your brain; you can almost taste their cologne, their mouths occasionally opening to roll praise from their sharp tongues.
âVery well done.â
âWonderful.â
âPerfect.â
And, the nail in your proverbial coffin, spoke from Nanamiâs lips-
âGood girl, doing so well here. Hm?â
âWhere?â You ask breathlessly, already uncomfortable levels of soaked considering youâve been unable to move for the last twenty minutes. On the way to point, Nanamiâs hand just brushes where yours are clammily clasped on the wood of the desk and your breath hitches.
He stops for a second, squinting, then resumes his gentle praise; your thighs rub together under the table. Youâre totally crowded in by now, their larger forms squeezing against your sides until your elbows are almost touching.
Floaty material parts at the neckline of your blouse, and youâre uncomfortably aware of the excess cleavage your position is providing you with. Surely theyâd be able to see it- as much as you want them to look, youâre awfully self aware of how much of your chest is visible to the two very much older men.
Fingers fumble with the buttons, attempting to be inconspicuous- but they notice. Of course they do. Two pairs of eyes swivel in synchronicity to your chest, to the cups of lace decorating your cleavage, and you hear Higurumaâs breath stop.
âSorry, did I do something wrong?â You pause in the middle of doing your buttons up, the gesture forgotten as Nanamiâs eyes bore into your skin. âWhy did you st-â
And itâs Nanami who clears his throat first. âYouâre showing an awful amount of cleavage to be considered professional.â Your eyes widen, âbut I suppose itâs our fault for being so close.â
âNo, I-â you begin, panicked, but your law professor cuts you off. âMmm⊠I didnât pin you for a frills woman. Is that a bow?â
Nanami laughs, the air it emits tickling your ear as your mouth opens and closes like a fish. âDid you think we wouldnât notice, darling?â
Darling. You flood your underwear just at the way the pet name rolls so fluidly from his tongue. âNotice what-?â
âThe staring at my fingers while I talk about the difference between iambic pentameter and tetrameter in prose.â
âThe bending over in front of me to pick up pencils that we donât even require in mock trials.â
For once in your life, you make a decision to not be speechless when faced with your professors; although, you may as well be speechless when Higuruma eagerly accepts your mouth on his.
He groans into it, bumpy nose brushing yours as his hand comes to cradle your jaw and deepen the kiss. âFuck, you taste good-â he says, words muffled against your teeth.
âItâs strawberry.â You gasp quietly, his tongue slipping across your balmy lips, â...you like it?â
âIs that the one youâre always applying in lectures, staring right at me?â Nanami queries into your ear, enamel of his teeth nipping gently at your neck. âI can barely control myself. Wanted to walk up there and kiss you-â
Your head spins as his hand tugs you away from Higuruma, your literature professor absolutely devouring the lips heâs been dying to taste for months. "Like this." True to his every word, Kento Nanami kisses like he's been starving; tongue stuffing into your maw, slicking across your teeth nastily.
A sound of surprise melts into Nanamiâs gentle mouth, before youâre being unceremoniously ripped away again.
Youâre not quite sure who moves first.
Thereâs a sudden sound of crashing as your chair clatters to the floor, a few hissing sounds that mark the release of metal zippers and the gentle hush of your own fingers undoing the buttons on your blouse fully, the airy fabric dropping to the floor; all youâre truly sure of is that, suddenly, youâre bent flat over the desk with Hiromi Higurumaâs face shoved between your thighs.
âOhmygod.â The jarbled expression is almost punched out of you, the very tip of Higurumaâs bumpy nose slithering across your clit as you grinddd your hips back into his face.
âSâgood.â He groans, hands spreading you apart wider so he can stare straight up at the slightest little arch in your back, âfuck, Kento, sheâs so cute.â
Your cheeks warm, hips wriggling for more friction than the smarmy slide of his nose and lips. And Higuruma has spent his entire life trying to help people- has made a career out of it, in fact- so who is he to deny somebody?
Especially when the reward is this sweet, he thinks vaguely as he becomes aware of the smear of slick across his chin.
âIâm gonna- fuck-â you reel, slumping against his nose for all itâs worth. And then, just as your stomach tightens- thereâs a chaste kiss being planted to your thigh as your orgasm is ripped away, ebbing into unsatisfying nothingness.
âWhat?â Gasping, indignant, and almost completely naked, you glare up at the man in front of you. âI was gonna cum!â
âWe know, thatâs why Iâm here.â God, his voice; itâs even worse now, the evidence of your ruined orgasm dripping down your thighs as your literature professor stands behind you , hand threaded through your hair to hold your cheek to cold wood.
âNanami-â
âJust stay still, darling. Okay?â
You nod unseeingly, as obedient to your professor as always. âOka-hnng!â
Fuck, heâs huge- sinking himself in slowly, gently, rocking his hips until your drooling cunt is pulled flush to the golden hairs trailing to his base. Nanami huffs, a groan rumbling at the back of his throat.
Your nails scrabble uselessly at the desk, fresh manicure chipping on the shiny surface as you try to keep up with Nanamiâs pace.
Itâs not too quick, but thatâs the worst part; heâs dragging it out, so much so you can feel the catch of his flushed tip when it notches at your entrance only to slide back in.
âDo you know how- fuck- how long Iâve wanted to do this?â He breathes into your ear, the smooth material of his shirt long gone to make way for his abdomen to plaster to your back.
âN-no-â
âLonger than you think. When youâd talk to me after class, I could always see down your shirt. Pink lace, a black push-up sometimes, grey cotton-â
Your head spins as your gentlemanly professor accurately lists off the contents of your entire underwear drawer. But you havenât seen your pink bra since last month-
âNeither have I.â Nanami hums. Fuck, did you say that out loud?
âThat long?â You squeal, cunt squeezing his thickness as it prods teasingly at your springy insides.
âActually, now you mention it, I havenât seen that bra for a while either.â Your head snaps to the front of the desk, cheek unsticking from the wood with an uncomfortable pop!
Higuruma. In the haze of Nanamiâs ministrations, youâd somehow completely forgotten his presence- but youâre aware now, perhaps far too much so.
His hand is wrapped tightly around the veined length of his cock, fingers dripping with pre. Thereâs so much that the globules mesh with his happy trail, shimmering in your field of vision; every few strokes, his thumb runs over the leaking slit and Higurumaâs hips buck.
Breathing feels constricted, an impossible task when youâre like this. Nanami is still pressed against you, your tits squishing against the desk as his cock bullies against your sensitive spots.
The visual of Higuruma working his cock, biting his lip so prettily as he stares unashamedly at your fucked out face, mixes with the physical feeling of Nanami inside you.
Both of those cocktail messily with the fact that youâre actually fucking your professors; every secret fantasy youâve thought about while penning essays, every glowing review of theirs youâve internally screamed over, has all come to a head inside Higurumaâs office. And youâre going to cum from it.
Emily Dickinson writes of acceptance.
Pablo Neruda writes about inevitability.
Both of those concepts, literary or not, are things you canât escape from as your orgasm slides into your veins, warmth blooming in your lower abdomen as Nanamiâs talented fingers slip to rub your clit.
âOhh fuck-â you moan, hands balling up into fists. The small curses you keep spouting carry you through your orgasm like a mantra; Nanamiâs vision of your messy hair becomes blurry as he stutters in rhythm, glossy strings of slick snapping when he forces himself out just to watch them drip.
Soft lips plant a kiss against your damp temple, your chest visibly heaving when Nanami flips you onto your back. Your eyes are pleading, glassy and unfocused; as much as Nanami wants to be greedy and take you all for himself, he does pride himself on his generosity.
Sometimes.
âHigurumaâŠâ you pant, legs wobbly and useless when you try to snap them closed.
For a brief moment, you think heâs going to spread your hips impossibly wider, large hands dwarfing the bruised skin of your hips. His tongue clicks, displeased. âKento, thatâs hardly kind.â
Nanamiâs face is still painted with pink, and he just stares down at the bruises with an oddly satisfied smile tugging at his features. âYes, I suppose it wasnât.â
âWell,â the law professor says firmly, âcome on, pretty. Weâll go at your pace, hm?â The words are whispered in your ear as he carries you to a spare armchair, settling down into the seat as you straddle his hips.
The armchair is plush and spacious, cushions wide enough for you to comfortably sink your knees into as his pained tip just nudges your dripping entrance, the remnants of your round with Nanami still seeping out and cloying.
Speaking of Nanami- heâs positioned himself beside you, just watching observantly as you test how Higuruma stretches you out.
It takes a few tries, many hummed words of encouragement and praise- but he finally seats himself fully inside you, head tipping back onto the armchair with a loud groan that makes you flutter around him.
âMove when- shit- when you feel like it, love.â He breathes, hands resting at your waist as your hips experimentally roll forwards. Words fail you- the syllables get tangled with whines at the back of your throat, breathy pants scalding against Higurumaâs neck when you slump forwards.
âI canât.â You whine, nails scraping at his shoulders. Nanami coos, hands pressing coolingly against the hot skin of your spine. âNow, Hiromi⊠I thought you didnât want to be cruel? Help her.â
âHelp?â You repeat dumbly, still pathetically grinding your clit against Higurumaâs pelvis even as Nanami soothes your back. And when his favourite student looks at him like that, all glossy eyed and pouting, fucked out on just a few thrusts?
âOf c-course-â he grits out through clenched enamel, fingers clamping down upon the smooth curve of your hips to bounce you up and down on his cock like a doll.
You wail. âHiguruma-!â The ex-lawyer furrows his brows, displeased. âNow, Iâd prefer Hiromi, love.â
âHiro-hck- Hiromiii-â
Smiling, pupils blown, Higurumaâs hips are emboldened to force his cock impossibly deeper; your skin dimples easily under his grip, slick squelching between your bodies as he rocks below you.
A digit prods at your lips, swiping up the remnants of strawberry lipbalm from before- except both of Higurumaâs hands are still firmly planted on your skin, fingers rolling starry-eyed circles over your sensitive clit.
âOpen up fâme, darling.â Nanami croons, pressing the salty skin of his thumb inside your mouth for you to automatically suckle on. âShh, wouldnât want anybody hearing, would you?â
You shake your head vehemently, drool sparkling from the corners of your kiss-swollen lips. âNo,â vocals slurred and awfully slutty as you turn your half-lidded gaze back to Higuruma, âno, sir.â
He chokes, hips battering even harsher than before- so much for setting your own pace!- and Nanami just replaces his thumb with two fingers, dulling the moans threatening to echo from the walls of the office.
The surprisingly toned abdomen below you tenses in on itself as your law professor stutters into his long-awaited high, spurts of alabastrine pooling and dripping down your thighs as he jolts into you. The noise that rips from him into your ear is obscene, a breathy groan that makes you whimper into his skin.
The second orgasm is cruel, jagged at the edges as itâs wrenched out of you suddenly by the overwhelming feeling of being filled for a second time; itâs almost against your will how strong it hits you, waves of pleasure cascading from your scalp to your thighs as you twitch pathetically on Higurumaâs lap.
Nanamiâs the one to work you through it, large hand stroking strings of hair back from your clammy forehead as Higuruma lies there, totally spent, hands lazily wrapped around you as a tear slides down your cheek.
âYou did so well for us.â One of them- you arenât sure which- murmurs into the heated air around your body.
âSo well,â the other agrees, âgood girl.â The pet name gives it away as Nanami, you realise, smiling stupidly against Higurumaâs shoulder.
âSoâŠâ you say weakly, voice hoarse, âis this grounds for extra credit?â
Slightly clipped, the seriousness tainted with a foggy haze of arousal, the blonde man answers first. âNo, I donât think so. Nice try, though, darling.â
âI think we got off track.â Higuruma mumbles, hands limp on your waist as he smiles lopsidedly. âI think youâll have to come back next week.â
àłàż*:
masterlist
a/n: this is like total cheeks because I was supposed to post a different fic but as I was editing I accidentally deleted all 3,000 words and then had a mental breakdown with tears so you can read this while I rewrite the original post...
in case you were wondering, the works I reference in this are:
"Song", by William Blake (the poem Nanami comments on at the beginning)
"A Vindication of The Rights of Man" / "Frankenstein" (their respective popular works) by Mary Wollstonecraft + Mary Shelley
anything from Lord Byron's works, although I like "She Walks in Beauty" !
"Of Cannibals" / "Des Cannibales" by Montaigne (not specifically referenced although I had it in mind when I noted him)
"Because I Could Not Stop for Death" by Emily Dickinson (amongst her other works- I would recommend "As Imperceptibly as Grief")
a general sentiment ("You can cut all the flowers but you cannot keep Spring from coming") from Pablo Neruda, no specific work cited for this ref <3
thank you sosooo much for reading! Have a lovely week, comments appreciated! <33
toji likes your going out fits and how you dress on a regular day when youâre not going to be at home. donât get him wrong, he thinks youâre hot no matter what.
but when you missed a day of showering and youâre in nothing but his boxers and a tshirt, wearing glasses with your hair in braids and no makeup on?
you couldnât pry him off you if you tried.
âtoji enough,â you plead, whining as he keeps fucking you raw despite filling you up three times already. you try to crawl away from him and reach for the nightstand in hopes of using it to propel you out from under him, but he growls, pulling you back and fucking you harder, just because you attempted to get away. you let out a useless moan and flop back into place with his body on top and his fingers laced through yours, his thrusts sloppy and squelching from how much cum has already been fucked deep into you.
his cock keeps hitting a soft spot inside you that has your eyes rolling back into your head - itâs gone tender from how relentlessly the fat head of his cock has been ramming into it.
âyour mistake, walkinâ around like that.â he groans when you clamp down around him, your juices coating his cock as you cream yet again with your legs shaking, his balls slapping into your swollen pussy lips and your clit. he canât stop at this point. and how could you blame him, when you look that good?
he grabs your braids in his hand and tugs your head back so he can shove his mouth to yours, tongue entering your mouth and wrapping around yours greedily. he just needs every part of him touching you. his hands grope your tits restlessly, mouth mashing with yours. âyou go around dressing like that and i just have to put a kid in you. not my fault,â he speaks between sloppy thrusts and slurping tongues.
18+ gruff older!bf toji loves cumming all over your face.
(mdni: toji nutting on your face basically.)
your knees hurt from being pressed against the cold floor, left cheek blush pink and stinging from the weight of his little slaps. toji stays slumped on his beat-up leather couch, the cushions sinking and dented from the sheer weight of his body.
your hands stay planted on his thighs, fingers digging into the muscular flesh as he slaps the tip of his cock against your tongue. fuck, its heavy, ridges running along the side of his shaft, veins taut from the base up. hes unshaven, his base blooming with little black curls that cramp around his cock like a lawn left unmowed.
he groans once, twice- palm curved around the weight of him, pumping up and down with slow, hypnotising movements that stretch on like hes got all the time he wants.
his other hand, heavy and calloused, runs through the side of your scalp, fingertips brushing through the strands, keeping your face a clear canvas for him to paint on later.
the way you look up at him, all soft and pretty, has his cock twitching beneath his palm, heavy and begging for release.
"gonna' nut all over this face." he groans, fingers trailing down from your hair to your jaw.
you let out a soft protest at his words, to which he just smiles at, all smug and slow, the scar on the corner of his lip pulling taut like hes just won the lottery.
"aint fair for ya, huh?" he drawls.
his thumb presses gently against your lip, and he lets out a soft huff when your tongue comes out to wet the rough pad of it, his eyes going hot when you press open mouthed kisses to the pad of his thumb.
"mm," he moans, low.
he pressed the base of his thumb to your tongue, letting you suck on it before he pulls it out with a wet pop!, pressing it gently against your lower lip, his hand now drifting down to the edge of your blouse, the fabric half open and waiting for him to tear it right off.
"take this shit off," he groans, trying to one handedly unbutton your top with thick, clumsy fingers. you place your fingers over his own, guiding them, now gently, as they unbutton the blouse, the fabric now falling down your shoulders, revealing both soft swells of your breasts.
"goddamn. look at these tits," he rasps, almost smiling.
his hand cups one, squeezing the plump flesh, feeling the weight of it in his hand. his thumb, calloused and rough, brushes over your nipple until it perks against his skin, and he gives it a quick light pinch.
"bring that face closer," he groans, coaxing you forward until your nose bumps against his shaft. "yeah, yeah. like that, shit."
his hand is still wrapped around his cock, slow pumps now quickening, the pressure and need to cum sitting so heavy inside of him to the point that he could cum at any moment. he tips his head back, hissing softly.
he groans again, eyes sliding down to look at your face. eyes sliding over the way you look at him with that expression that says hes allowed to do anything to you.
and then-
hot ropes of cum splurt all over your face, eliciting a soft whine from your lips. some lands on your mouth, other on your nose and cheeks. he squeezes his shaft, low grunts leaving his lips as he paints all over your face.
the corner of his lip tips up into a smile, and he lets out a low laugh, the sound raspy and strained from earlier. you look almost dumb founded, not having expected that much.
content warning: extremely explicit, stepcest, daddy kink, age gap, breeding, creampie, public risk, teasing, degrading dirty talk, and straight-up nasty smut, mdni, 18+ only.
read the oneshot here
stepdad toji who walks around the house in nothing but those tight, expensive boxers which he bought with *your* mom's money, the thin fabric doing fucking nothing to hide that heavy and swinging bulge, like he's asking for it (which he is).
stepdad toji who loves catching you staring at the fat outline of his cock and balls, and just grin shamelessly, adjusting himself right in front of you like heâs daring you to do something about it and invites you to come over and feel how heavy it is.
stepdad toji who corners your ass in the hallway the second your mom steps out, yanks those tiny panties to the side and slaps his fat, veiny cock right between your dripping folds, rubbing the swollen head up and down your sloppy slit real slow, teasing your clit asking him to call him daddy and if you don't, his fat dick ain't going nowhere near in your greedy cunt.
stepdad toji when you're ovulating and acting like a bitch in heat, he'll just chill on the couch, pants pulled down, cock standing straight up like a challenge as he scrolls through his phone acting bored while you climb on and try to stuff yourself full, bouncing and whining on his meat.
stepdad toji who never puts on a damn condom 'cause he loves pumping you full until his thick, hot cum is leaking out your used hole in creamy white globs, then spreads your puffy lips wide open just to watch it ooze and drip down your thighs like it's his personal cum-dump.
stepdad toji who loses his mind, when he sees you sleeping on the couch with your tits out, and he drops down and latches onto your nipple, sucking and licking, biting and pulling while his hands are busy in his pants milking himself dry.
stepdad toji during family movie night pulls you onto his lap under that big blanket while your mom starts dozing off. he frees his heavy cock, lines it up so his leaking tip is kissing and rubbing all over your soaked folds the whole damn movie, sliding through your slick without ever pushing in, torturing that itchy cunt until you're biting your lip hard trying not to moan.
stepdad toji when you're laying on the couch ass-up pretending to scroll on your phone, he sneaks up behind you, rips your shorts aside and buries his face in your ass. he spreads the cheeks wide and goes to town, licks, sucks and slurps on your cunt with obscene sounds, tongue-fucking you until your legs are shaking and your phone drops.
stepdad toji who treats every time you bend over like a straight-up invitation (which it is) by walking up to you, pressing the bulge on your ass and start humping you like a mutt, grinding his fat cock between your cheeks and it always ends up him yanking your shorts down and pounding that greedy cunt raw, balls slapping loud against your ass.
stepdad toji who loves using your body as his personal cum canvas. he spreads your cunt lips so fucking wide it burns a little, then strokes his throbbing dick and paints every inch of your puffy folds and clit with his creamy load, smearing it around like he's making art on your sloppy pussy.
stepdad toji who can't stop calling your pussy the dirtiest names while he's balls-deep, saying that it's a whore cunt and even if the whole neighborhood lined up to gangbang this fuck hole it still wouldn't be satisfied without daddy's fat cock stretching it out.
stepdad toji when you whines that you can't sleep, he'd say it'll help you sleep like a baby if you just suck on daddyâs tip for a while. then he'd shove his cock past your lips, letting you sip and swirl your tongue around the fat leaking head while he pets your hair. he never lasts for long until heâs groaning deep and feeding you his precious cum straight down your throat, making you swallow every drop so you can finally drift off with the taste of him still on your tongue.
stepdad toji who insists on âhelpingâ you in the kitchen every damn time your momâs home. he presses right up behind you, yanks your little skirt up, and slides his pulsing cock between your slick pussy lips from behind. just the heavy shaft trapped tight between your soaked folds while youâre trying to cook. youâre grinding back on him like a desperate slut, rolling your hips and rubbing your clit all over his length, leaking all over him. your mom walks through the kitchen, smiles sweetly saying, âso glad you two are finally bonding!â while Toji just smirks, grips your hip harder and whispers hot against your ear, âyeah⊠real fuckin' bonding, doll. keep rubbing that whore cunt on daddy.â
đâ Ë àŁȘ . ËË â true form!sukuna hates (loves) it when his favorite concubine is all clingy and whiny :: cws. fluff. little suggestive. size diff.
âyâre annoying me, girl,â sukuna grumbles as he walks to the courtyard. you had magically appeared behind him the moment he stepped out of his room to get some fresh air.
you flash him an apologetic smile âiâm sorry, my lord.â youâre not sorry, sukuna knows, though he doesnât comment on it. itâs been like this ever since a week or two ago. he cannot recall why youâre suddenly so much more affectionate.
he doesnât wait on you, however, and takes big strides towards the courtyard. if your short legs canât keep up, that isnât his problem. you frown and take on the challenge thatâs been thrown your way.
you increase your pace and nearly run after sukuna. you have to lift your kimono a little to make sure you wouldnât trip over the fabric. it doesnât seem like youâll give up any time soon as you follow him with that same content expression on your face.
sukuna canât believe that a human like you dares to even be in his presence for so long. he didnât call for you, so why are you adamant on staying with him?
he concludes that something must be up, âwhatâd you want from me?â
there hangs a silence between you two afterwards. sukunaâs slow yet heavy footsteps reverberate through the hallway, followed by your quick and light ones. you pout as you notice that the king of curses isnât even sparing you a glance, ânothing at all. i just like to be with you.â
you add the latter as an afterthought. you donât expect sukuna to react to that, so you continue to trail behind him into the courtyard.
âtch,â you hear him scoff in annoyance. youâre sure he doesnât mean any actual harm by that, so you donât take it personally.
sukuna eventually sits down on the engawa, where the servants have placed the comfy zabuton cushions. thereâs always one for you as wellâright next to sukunaâs. itâs become a habit for the maids to include you in sukunaâs daily routines since youâre always with him.
you eye your own cushion, though donât make an effort to actually sit down on it. sukuna stares ahead, not bothered to notice you at the moment. you look down at his lap, recalling just how perfectly you can fit on it.
you donât waste any more time and plop down on his thick thighs, your back against his chest. sukunaâs brow twitches at the sudden contact. his bottom pair of eyes look down at you whilst the upper ones keep looking at the nature in front of you both.
âget off me,â the king of curses commands through a low tone. he doesnât push you off, however. that alone should tell you enough; heâs tolerating your behaviour as per usual. or perhaps he secretly likes your proximity.
you shall never discover which of the two it actually is.
ânooooooo,â you exaggerate with a whine. you donât want to. you wrap both of your arms around one of sukunaâsâclinging onto him like your life depends on it. he simply responds by sighing.
you know sukunaâs able to grab you by the collar and force you to sit down on the cushion beside him, but he doesnât. your heart flutters every time sukuna shows some tolerance to your clingy behavior. it means that maybeâjust maybeâheâs opening up to the idea of being more affectionate with you.
âsuch a fuckinâ brat,â sukuna simply puts one hand on your waist, the others supporting his weight on the engawa. he grumbles, but there are clear signs of him relaxing with you in his presence.
you chuckle at the realisation and swing your legs in excitement. sukuna unexpectedly bites your ear in response to your increased activity on his lap, âstay still or iâll kick you off.â
you let out a small whimper as you feel his fangs gently sick into your earlobe. you jolt back and rub the skin with your hand, looking up at sukuna with a playful frown before teasing him back. you roll your eyes and answer him with a firm yet mocking, âsir yes, sir!â
sukuna clicks his tongue at your tease. you answer him like heâs some general in the military. thatâs not the kind of relationship he has with youâitâs more than that. even though he knows youâre joking, he dislikes it when you call him anything other than âmy lordâ, âmy kingâ, or just his name.
he finds great satisfaction in the way you refer to him as such. youâre the only one who can make sukuna grin each time you remind him of his status and the power he has over you.
the power dynamic; itâs addictive.
he needs more of it.
sukuna reaches out to grab your face with one hand, but youâre quick to pull your head back the moment you see that intimidatingly big hand coming down onto your vision. you clear your throat and apologise, âi meanâyes, my lord.â
the king of curses hums in content. that title is exactly what he had been looking for. he retracts his hand and settles it back down on your waist, patting your sides twice to show his satisfaction with your obedience.
you stop squirming around in his lap and simply lay back down in his arms. you close your eyes and nearly fall asleep because of the comfortable atmosphere. the slight breeze against your face is relaxing and perfectly compliments the warmth from sukunaâs body.
18+ // explicit oral // Toji n Toru being competitive
wc 900
selfshiptember; 23
i'm obsessed with them being friends ok. ok
[ch. 236 didn't happen. he's here. he's alive. and well]
Your two closest friends, Toji and Satoru, are always in ferocious competition with one another. Itâs not all about money, status and powerâ sometimes they sink lower, and today theyâve reached new depths after stuffing their faces with piles of greasy, fatty foods. They look up at you asking, âWho won?â with groans and sore tummies.
You look at their comatose bodies, prodding and teasing, giggling as they grunt and try to push you off. You just tell them to reevaluate their lives and step out of your apartment to go shopping.
⟠ââșâââ
You re-enter a couple of hours later to find your apartment clean and Satoru walking around topless, greeting you and pulling you to your room, explaining that theyâre having a different competition now.
He gives you a grin and drags you inside, where you see Toji lying back on your bed in his boxers.
You huff, fed up with the pairâs ridiculous behaviour, âIs everything a competition for you two??â
âHonestly, you think weâre that childish?â Satoru turns to you with a chuckle, his eye contact making you shiver.
He pushes you onto the bed and crawls over you, reaching for your skirt and pushing it away, âS-Sâtoru whatâ what are you doing?â
The partial nudity doesnât surprise you anymore. But Satoruâs hands on you, tugging at your clothes is new.
He gives you a little pout as you edge up the bed, incidentally getting closer to Toji, who turns to you.
He takes your hand in his and places kisses over your knuckles, explaining, âWeâre gonna have a different kind of eating competition now, dollâ
Youâre left confused, looking down at Satoru who gives you a pleading expression.
âWill you let us?â
You swallow hard, finally realising what theyâre asking.
âAh⊠but you guysâ I, I donât knowâ it, itâs not right, youâre my friendsâ
âWe can treat you so good, though, angel,â Satoru coos, kissing your legs, âân we need to find out whoâs better.â
He bats those pretty lashes and has you nodding in no time, his long fingers pulling away your clothes.
⟠ââșâââ
And soon enough, his lips have found your clit, his tongue sliding through your wet folds as he starts on his mission to prove just how good he can make you feel.
Satoru has fun with you, smiling, pleased that youâve already soaked his face.
âThatâs it, angel,â he hums, âdripping so pretty fâ me,â he kisses and licks you over and over, âwas so easy, hm, getting you so wet, so quickâ and just look, look at your cream all over my tongue.â
He canât help but pull himself away, sticking out his tongue to show you while shoving his fingers inside you instead, his thumb expertly swirling around your little bud.
âYou wanna taste?â He moves over your body, eyes half lidded, his long fingers getting so deep while his wet tongue connects with yours.
âDirty girl,â he comments, pulling away and biting your lip, enjoying how you're moaning while tasting yourself.
His fingers work magic inside you while his mouth finds your little clit again, licking and teasing, clearly enjoying every second while you get all fidgety and needy in his strong hands.
He hums with pride when you reach your first orgasm so quickly, riding his fingers while your hips spasm and buck.
Pausing to admire your afterglow for a moment, he licks up your wetness and switches places with Toji.
⟠ââșâââ
You realise too late that it may have been wise to let Toji go first, as heâs got you screaming and crying while he sucks hard on your sensitive bud.
He torments you, swirling his tongue round and round, his fingers pressing at your entrance.
Feeling you getting close already, he groans and pulls away, watching you squirm as he delivers a long strand of spit to your already soaked hole. He smears it around with his thumb, his eyes all hazy and transfixed on your body.
Enjoying how your hips are pushing up to his hand, he lines up his fingertips with your hole. âGo on then,â his eyes flick up and down âuse my fingers if you want.â
And he watches you shakily move your hips up, taking his thick middle and ring fingers. You let off a moan and he chuckles, âLook what I've got her doing, Toru, must be better with me, hm?â
You just feel him sliding through you, your hips going up and down with increasing pace.
âYou would've cum again by now if it were me, honey. Donât listen to him,â Satoru comments, eyeing the way youâre humping Tojiâs hand so eagerly.
He teases you with a few lazy pumps, then pulls his fingers out and attaches his lips to your body again, both big hands finding your ass and squeezing you up to his face while he relentlessly eats you.
He forces his tongue so deep, making out with your body and swallowing all thatâs spilling from you. He really has no shame when it comes to eating a girl right.
He does it so messy and sloppy, letting off hot groans while sinking his nails into the fat of your ass.
Your mind suddenly bends, wriggling under his heavy body as he sucks your second orgasm from you.
He pulls away with a smirk, âGood?â
⟠ââșâââ
And they pester you relentlessly, for weeks, tagging anything they say to you over message, face to face, in public, at home, wherever, with âWho did it better, it was me, right?â
You always return glares or ignore them completely, still in disbelief that you let them get away with that.
It was only one night, your friendly relationships with both men maintained perfectly. Theyâre just more handsy, finding any excuse to touch you and make you feel good.
Now theyâve had a taste of you, they need more. So much so that theyâre constantly vying for your attention and praise, their competition becoming more and more heated by the day.
đâ Ë àŁȘ . ËË trying to show trueform!sukuna that you can be assertive in bed ends up backfiring almost immediately :: cw. concubine!reader, smut, piv, degredation, double cawks, nicknames âdoll, womanâ :: wc. 1.2k
âi can do it, my lord,â you huff stubbornly. you donât know where you got the courage from to be so assertive tonight. maybe itâs because of sukunaâs earlier wordsâthose mocking words that he uttered to get a rise out of you. or to see you scared, perhaps.
âyâre gonna need to do a lot more to keep me entertained, doll. gonna get bored of you if yâ donât.â
the sentence repeats in your head like a never ending chant. on one hand, you know sukuna was just trying to play with your emotions, but on the other hand, youâre afraid that there mightâve been some truth to his words.
thus you take up the challenge.
âyâ canât do shit, little girl,â sukuna rolls his eyes as he sees you climb onto his lap. his thick thighs are spread, his broad back against the headboard of the bed.
he doesnât even try helping you like he usually does, with his hands guiding your hips. if youâre stubborn enough to try and be on top of the king of curses out of all people, youâre going to get minimal help.
âyes i can,â you mumble with a sense of uncertainty in your voice.
youâve never really done any of this. youâre usually on the receiving end, having sukuna easily move and bend your body however he sees fit.
youâve never imagined being in his place. itâs all so foreign. you swallow thickly as you try your best to sound confident, âjust watch me, my lord.â
itâs then that you realise how desperate you are to please him; youâre scared to lose your position as his favorite.
you let those earlier words get to your headâjust like sukuna expected. the fact that youâre so gullible makes him stifle a condescending laugh.
âall âm seeing is you struggling to ride me,â sukuna clicks his tongue and his piercing red eyes lazily watch your attempts to sink down on his two, hard and dripping cocks. the contact his leaking tips make with your cunt is enough to make him grunt.
heâs trying hard to not slam you down on him fully. heâs used to taking controlâtoo used to it. seeing you struggle to even start is making him impatient.
âi-iâll get it eventually, my lord,â you whimper, nervous because of the fact that youâre on top of such a huge man.
sukunaâs staring at you menacingly with all four of his arms crossed over his chest. your hips tremble as you slide one of his cocks into your warm pussy, both of you hissing at the direct contact.
you try to fit the other in the same hole, but you canât handle both at the moment. his upper dick slips right out and bumps against your clit instead. you clumsily fumble with the same one, trying to make place for it in your cunt.
sukuna canât hold it in anymore after that.
having you clamping down on one of his massive cocks, his girth stretching your small canal to fit all of it to the base and your face contorting in both discomfort and pleasureâall of itâis making him lose it.
âthis isnât gonna work. need to fuck ya properly.â
youâre not even a minute in and heâs yanking your small body off his lap, forcefully turning you around until your back is pressed against his chest and your head rests near his shoulder.
sukunaâs upper hands hold your legs up by the back of your knees. his bottom set of hands wrap around his cocks and pushes one through your sensitive cunt whilst he fists the other.
âfffâmhhh! my lord! nonono,â you tear up.
partially because the sudden intrusion hurts your insides and the stretch is unexpected, but mainly because youâre scared that sukunaâs angry with you.
you didnât want to disappoint after you suggested riding him. after you suggested being on top for once only to not do as claimed.
you pout, âiâm sorry, let me try again.â
sukuna slaps your clitoris harshly after that comment of yours. âthat a demand? foolish woman,â he scoffs and his hips thrust upwards against the fat of your ass.
squelchy noises fill the chambers and spill outside of the roomâitâs loud. the bed-creaking is unmissable as well with how fast heâs pounding you.
sukuna bites into your shoulder and holds back his grunts like that. heâs relentless, drilling into your cunt so hard that youâre getting numb. your body is limp in his beefy arms and rationality escapes your mind.
âsorry, âm sorry,â you whine and try to babble about something, but itâs all incoherent. youâre feeling lightheaded due to how much youâre taking of him. it feels amazing, soul ascending, though your emotions are in the way.
even when you try not to show any attachment to the man you swore not to like.
sukuna ignores your pleas. his focus is on your slutty cunt swallowing every inch of his lower dick like its nothing. youâre used to itâheâs made you used to itâand somehow youâre still as tight as the first time. that and your submission to him is exciting.
your adorable noises. the form of your body as it fits perfectly against his like youâre made for him.
you are made for him. your purpose is to please him, submit to him and give him what he deserves. thatâs why he keeps you around.
âstop yâr whining,â sukuna grumbles. your knees are forced up against your ears and your tits are bouncing with each harsh thrust. âyâr a dumb fucking thing,â the king of curses presses down on the bottom of your stomach, increasing the pleasure for you, whilst also pleasing himself by knowing how deep youâre taking him, âdo you think âm actually going to let you go?â
your eyes widen as sukuna effortlessly picks up on your internal worries. you know thereâs no hiding your feelings from him, even if you donât directly talk about them to him. itâs like he can sense them. or see right through you with those piercing red eyes that leave you shivering for days.
âyâre too delicious to let go of. i donât intend on letting anyone else get a taste of this pussy,â sukuna smirks and his tongue rolls out to lick your left ear. you gasp at the feeling and moan right after.
you donât try being quiet. you donât care if anyone hears you. that reassurance is all you needed.
âyâre mine,â sukuna grumbles and speeds up his thrusts until youâre seeing stars.
youâre not sure if you can hold out for much longer. you can already feel your orgasm building upâand judging by sukunaâs tight grip on your thighsâheâs close to emptying himself deep inside you as well.
you try your best to keep up with everything, but you can only focus on so much at once. you mumble some words in agreement as your head tilts to the side, your vision turning blurry and fuzzy, âall yours, mâlordângh!â
sukuna grins mischievously. heâs completely won you over. heâs got you wrapped around his finger. youâre easy, even if you think youâre the complete opposite. the man knows just what to say to make you all putty in his hands.
youâre gullible and so easily manipulated. a perfect target for his mockery and teasing. thatâs why he always has fun with youâwhether itâd be in bed or not.
his earlier comment was just to mess with you and as expected, you walked right into his trap.
youâre his favorite. his favorite to play around with. his favorite human.
