WifeyD

I write and draw for fun! Mostly here to write/read fanfics relating to KNY, JJK, and Gachiakuta. Blk| 27| F

[wifeydbby]

My Fanfics/HeadCanons: #wifeydwrites

My Art: #wifeydart (art posted on any other platform will be under the name Wifeydart)

Current Inspo Prompts: 100 Drabbles

Current Hyper fixation: Invincible (Mostly Cecil and Nolan)

Current Anime I'm watching: Beastars season 3

Current Obsession: Disney Descendants

My tags: #wifedprompts #wifeydtbr #wifeydfaves #wifeydneeds

[wifeydbby]

Hashira Headcanon pt. 2

Contains: Cute Fluff, ReaderxHashira if you would like, Giyu. Mitsuri. Gyomei. Shinobu. Sanemi. Obanai. Rengoku. Tengen. Muichiro, Platonic.

POV: How the Hashira would react to you being on your period

Rengoku: He’d buy you all of your favorite snacks and cook you all of your favorite foods. He knows how much a good meal can heal the soul.

Tengen: He’s use to it. He’d baby you and give you whatever you need. However, when the mood swings get a bit intense he might disappear for an hour or two.

Sanemi: He would unintentionally irritate you from his wild behavior or be keeping his distance. (Secretly he’d cook you meals and leave them for you to eat when you get hungry.)

Murichiro: He wouldn’t even notice (or care) that you are acting different unless you specifically told him. Then he would be like, “What does that have to do with me?” (Very logical)

Shinobu: She knows what it’s like so she’d give you some kind of special pain medicine specifically made for you in your favorite candy flavor.

Obanai: He would wonder why you’re so moody, ask you what the problem, and then bring you something to cheer you up. (Maybe flowers?)

Mitsuri: She would give you all the comfort you desire and then ask Shinobu for some of her special medicine for you.

Gyomei: You wouldn’t lift a single finger around him. He would make sure you’re fed and taken care of until it’s over.

Giyu: He’d freeze at the mention of your monthly cycle and not know what to say or do about it.

Part 1

Writer notes(?): I am on my month cycle and just kinda had this idea lmao

2026 © all my work belongs to me aka @wifeydbby. Do not repost, translate, or steal any of my works!

[officergrimesloml]

𝐜𝐚𝐧'𝐭 𝐤𝐞𝐞𝐩 𝐦𝐲 𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐬 𝐭𝐨 𝐦𝐲𝐬𝐞𝐥𝐟 - 𝐜𝐞𝐜𝐢𝐥 𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐝𝐦𝐚𝐧 𝐱 𝐡𝐲𝐛𝐫𝐢𝐝!𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫 (𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝐭𝐰𝐨)

pairing: cecil stedman x afab!hybrid!reader word count: 11.9k summary: cecil regrets what he did. he goes back to your apartment, either for the sole purpose of convincing you to keep your mouth quiet or to pretend things never happened between you two, only to find he has to be the solution to your problem all over again. warnings: hybrid heat, perv!cecil, boss/employee relationship, power imbalance, fingering, unprotected sex, creampie, degradation, spanking, morally gray cecil stedman, really pathetic reader tbh a/n: sorry this took so long! third part will be out eventually :) oh also, this is like only 98% proofread. i will come back and edit this another day lol 𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝐨𝐧𝐞 | next part

All he can remember is the ringing in his ears. That high-pitched noise was more than any typical sound Cecil had heard before; it was an electric current trapped like feedback on a loop. The older man knew it wasn’t the earpiece backfiring. The consequences of his actions were beginning to catch up to him before he even left your bedroom. Like pressure on his shoulders, the weight of the world hit him all at once. Gravity worked against him almost instantly.

Cecil vaguely remembers the notion of pulling out of your warm, sticky heat. Faintly, almost drowned out by the ringing sensation in his ear, he hears a squelch come from your pussy and a concerned whimper on your end. His memory can’t seem to fully recall all the details of cleaning himself up. Not that he really did much of that in the first place. More so he put himself back in his pants, pulled on the zipper, and half-assed attempted to tuck his dress shirt back in. That’s all he can recollect.

Because now he’s stood in the middle of his office trying to buckle his belt before anyone walks in. He hastily pulls it around his waist without a second thought. Thank God he had an extra suit jacket in a random closet somewhere. There’s not a chance in hell he would have been able to explain away the claw marks on his back. After changing, Cecil’s palms lay against the cool, hard wood of his desk. He stares at his work space with a vacant expression. He rarely blinks in the midst of his racing thoughts. 

Through all his years of working as GDA director, from executing high-stake plans and making mistakes along the way, Cecil is absolutely positive that this experience was the first in many, many years where he feels genuine shame and guilt. 

He went into this whole thing with “pure” intentions, but they ended up being far from that. The man recognizes he acted on his feelings. When the fuck was the last time he did that? His only excuse was that he was fulfilling his duties as director and helping a superhero in need. His entire life is just work, work, work. If he has even one of his employees out of line, surely the effects will screw him over in the long run.

But he knows that nobody else would have done what he did. There isn’t a single other person from the GDA who would have offered their fingers to subdue your heat, nobody else would have passionately kissed your sweet lips, and it is an absolute fact that nobody else would have let themselves pump you full of old man cum.

Cecil knew from day one he had a soft spot for you. He attempted to deny this time and time again. He thought that your entire being had zero effect on his morals or quick thinking. That couldn’t be furthest from the truth right now. In reality, there are no other superheroes under his supervision where he freaks out over their safety as much as he does with you. Now, however, all he can think is that he should not have done what he did. Regardless if it was for the sake of your health or not. The internal argument he frequently had with himself regarding whether there had ever been a boundary to cross in the first place would never hold up. Ever. Fuck, would he have to go to court for this? What if you report him? 

He can already imagine the headlines. Cecil doesn’t give two shits if the world tries to smear his name. But he’ll be damned if he’s referred to as the ‘cat fucker’. Well, not that your physical appearance is a full-on cat…still. Doesn’t really sound great, in his opinion. 

Taking another moment to try and smooth down his wrinkled clothing, Cecil swears under his breath. 

Was he high or something? 

Had he been drugged unknowingly? 

Does he need to get checked up? 

He quickly dismisses the idea. Cecil has no doubt that the staff here would somehow link the wet spot beneath his underwear to your DNA. That would be his luck.

He paces the length of his office, keeping his head down as he struggles to control his breathing. The guilt practically suffocates him alive. At the end of the day, he simply cannot explain away his actions, not even to himself. He’s stuck quarreling with himself about what let his emotions get in the way of his decision making. 

Then, as if he deserved more of a punishment, the memories finally begin to resurface. His mind begins to produce a horrifyingly vivid image of what you looked like right before he teleported away. 

He can’t stop thinking about how heartbroken you appeared. 

The scene replays unwillingly. With each backwards step he made in your room, nearly knocking himself into the bed during the process, you began questioning his sudden withdrawal. At first, you were just merely confused. Then that grew to concern. After that, the nature of your questions grew frantic instantly. Cecil doesn’t remember all of them, but one is glued to the front of his brain like torture.

“Cecil? Is there something wrong with me?!”

The words hit him like someone stabbed him with a knife and slowly turned the handle.

Everything comes flooding back after this particular question starts to plague his mind. He slowly remembers how the switch in your attitude absolutely killed him. You had gone from being so naive, entirely absent of any wrongdoing, only to turn into someone who was trembling with fear. 

And he was to blame for it all. 

The only image he can recall witnessing before leaving was the way you climbed off the desk with wobbly legs. At the same time, you had fallen to your knees, practically crawling to him. Cecil barely whispered that he would be back, then he was gone. 

He can’t keep thinking about you. He was summoned back to his office for a reason. Cecil Stedman is the director of the fucking GDA, he needs to act like it.

Trying to go about his business the rest of the early hours of the morning was near impossible. He even fucked up some of the paperwork Donald had wanted him to fill out earlier. Each step through the halls he thought someone was surely going to pop around a corner and accuse him of sleeping with his employee. Thankfully, that wasn’t the case…at least yet, anyway, 

It’s nearing seven in the morning. Five hours since this whole ordeal began. The older man assumed that after getting swept up in more demanding assignments, he would find the strength to find an appropriate resolution to the problem he’s created. 

That ended up not being the case at all. 

The led lights of his personal office space hum in the background of his looming thoughts. From down the hall, someone put on a pot of coffee in a breakroom. Its smell lingers heavy in the air, but nothing as thick as the scent of your arousal. Cecil is seated in his chair whilst biting his bottom lip. He doesn’t realize that he had been subconsciously craving the taste of your mouth on his again. Then, when the agent begins talking, he’s met with a blinding glare. 

“Sir? Is everything all right?” Donald asks curiously. Although Cecil can’t see under his sunglasses, he’s sure that the man is squinting at the rare case of his boss looking absolutely flustered. 

“Yes. I’m…fine,” Cecil trails off, unsure his answer sounds even slightly convincing. 

Then, Donald asks if Cecil was able to remedy your problem from earlier in the night. 

Well shit. 

There’s a long pause between the men. Donald, standing in front of the desk, tilts his head to the left. The way Cecil doesn’t give an immediate answer is unnatural. Donald might not realize it, but it’s due to the fact Cecil is battling whether to be upfront with the only man here at the GDA he thinks could be trusted with this information. 

But even then, being honest about fucking a cat-hybrid superhero wasn’t an easy feat. Cecil doesn’t want to risk this getting out to the public somehow. But damn Donald for asking such a specific question. Cecil was already trying to shake you from his thoughts, but the conversation has steered in a direction he was already silently drowning in. He kind of wishes he could just dismiss the man, although that would appear suspicious. 

Plus it wouldn’t work; even if Donald left the room right this very second, you’d still be on Cecil’s mind. He hates it. 

Before he replies, Cecil’s shoulders hunch forward and he clears his throat. He explains, “Uh, yeah. Found something that helped momentarily. She’ll need those pills later. I guess she thought she could…handle herself without the medication.”

“Ah, I see,” Donald gulps, slowly nodding, “well, I figured that may have been the case. While you were…gone…I went ahead and stopped by the lab and requested they complete an order as soon as possible. It’s ready, sir.”

An all too familiar knot begins to twist in the older man’s core. Cecil’s throat feels as though some sort of phantom hand has wrapped itself around his vocal chords. He can’t bring himself to reply. He just hums, staring off into space trying to process what Donald might already know. 

Donald tries to shift the conversation. Bless the man, because he tries damn hard, too. 

There’s some sort of awkwardness in the way Donald begins to frame the other important information. It’s not like the words that Donald says are not part of his typical duties; it’s all the stuff Cecil needed to know so he could save the world. A typical workload for any working man. However, if Cecil didn’t know any better, he would guess that his right-hand man somehow sensed he was low in spirits and was trying to carefully remind Cecil why he’s in the office in the first place. No matter, the GDA responsibilities simply weren't Cecil’s immediate focus right now. 

Instead, he’s trying to expel the weight of guilt on his chest. The feeling consumes him all the way down to his bones. 

Why the hell did he leave you like that? All alone and confused? Actually, scratch that…why did he even sleep with you in the first place? Cecil should have never done what he did. It’s your fault. Had you taken the stupid heat pills, you would have had a normal Friday night. Cecil would have been able to sign paperwork as usual. Both of you would have been fine. 

It takes almost ten minutes of talking for Donald to recognize that his words are going in one ear and out the other with his boss. He decides to cut the speech short. Glancing at his dress shoes, Donald exhales deeply, then murmurs, “Sir…if you’d like, I can bring her the pills.”

This gets Cecil’s attention. 

“Oh? I mean, if you want,” he replies. His heart has noticeably increased in acceleration. 

“Unless…you would rather bring it to her. I know she trusts you,” Donald shrugs. 

Those words sting more than applying hydrogen peroxide to an open wound. 

You trusted Cecil. You fucking trusted him. 

Perhaps he needs to be the one to bring this solution. One that isn’t Cecil’s cock, that is. A type of approach that would answer the problem of having fucked your boss on top your desk. He’d been longing to see you again, to smell you, to fix that expression on your face that suggested you were disgusted with his actions. But at the same time, he was overly worried that the sight of him would only trigger distasteful responses. 

How would you react? Would you demand he go away? Well, there was only one way to know. 

Cecil doesn’t say much else to Donald. He’s afraid that he might slip up and further the uncomfortable atmosphere of this rather strange conversation. He simply mumbles he can drop off the pills himself, stands up from his chair, and leaves Donald in his office by himself. 

The sight of the pills in his grasp doesn’t deliver the satisfaction Cecil had hoped to receive. Instead, it makes him second-guess what the hell he was doing. He knew the answer; he’s letting his emotions take control once again.

He can’t help but remain curious about what you were even doing right now. You hadn’t bothered trying to text him, which was not like yourself. It seemed that both you and Cecil were not in the right state of mind. Still, he needed to see you. The two of you were in desperate need of a long discussion about what happened and how it was a simple mistake. That, and Cecil needs to assure you aren’t planning on telling another soul about your shared secret. 

He really doubts you would. Although, he can’t just assume. 

As though he was taking a shot at the bar, Cecil doubles down on his next move before talking himself out of it. 

Then, he apparates. 

The man doesn’t immediately clock the fact he accidentally landed in the hallway of your apartment. The moment his senses come to and he’s able to observe his surroundings, he almost rolls his eyes. 

Of course he would be foolish enough to step foot back in here. More specifically, right outside your bedroom door. Cecil swears that he meant to appear on the other side of your front door instead. Somewhere a bit more public and not so private. Although, with the memories of earlier still fresh on his mind, it was clear that his previous ability to apparate to specific locations was being tampered. 

This is how Cecil knows he’s screwed; he can’t get his teleportation accuracy in shape without being confused. Well, at least he can skip the pleasantries and just waltz right into your space. This would either work out well for the man, or screw him over. He isn’t sure yet. 

Cecil scratches the back of his head, takes a deep breath, and turns the knob of your closed door. He had hoped you would be asleep so that it gives him the excuse to ditch this whole ‘making amends’ act. It would be easier on his end to just leave the pills on your nightstand and be on his way. Yes, he would have to make an additional trip in the future to actually speak with you, but Cecil figures at least he might have time to think things through first. 

But no. You love making things difficult, don’t you? Because you just adore annoying this older man, obviously. Cecil finds you stood frozen in the middle of the room instead, arms crossed and evidently ready to either scream or punch him right in the face. The cat ears are twitching; a sure sign you’d heard him teleport here in the first place.

You’re fucking pissed. 

And for some reason Cecil is growing annoyed. Because, again, you can’t make things easy for him. He really hoped you were going to be knocked out cold when he came over. Damn it. Now he has to actually man up. 

Cecil manages to not retreat backwards. His gaze hovers around the room for a couple seconds, simply taking in the scene. All the pillows were arranged neatly on your new comforter set. Everything else was suspiciously clean. It was like you were trying to silently erase the memories of what happened. Some random objects that had fallen off the desk last night were placed back in their respective spots. Seeing that damned piece of furniture makes Cecil’s heart skip a beat. Not even a full five or six hours ago, he had you cumming on his fingers and cock like it was nobody’s business. 

Then, he recalls how he left you.

He holds space in the doorway, unable to mutter a single word. You’ve changed into a new set of pajamas; pastel gingham shorts and a tight tank top. He tries his best to ignore the little buds beneath the fabric that are obviously your nipples. That’s when he really takes in your dramatic body language. Similar to your state of being, he freezes as though he’s been struck by ice. The only movement in the room is your tail swishing back and forth angrily. However, it’s not even your physical mannerisms that cause Cecil to stop dead in his tracks; it’s the proximity that kills him more. 

You’d put forth effort to place distance between yourself and him. It appeared you had no intention to close the gap either. Not that Cecil blames you; after the way he abruptly left you in the middle of the night, he should definitely be treated like shit right now. 

It’s strange though. He knows he deserves this, but that doesn’t completely satisfy him. As worked up as he is, which is beyond nervous to compensate for what occurred and move on with his life, Cecil recognizes that your closed-off behavior is going to make this mission all the more difficult. Well, it also does not help that this might very well be one of the first times where you have been upset with him directly. 

Cecil has made some chaste choices in the past, ones you have easily forgiven and shrugged off. The chip in your body, for example. Other superheroes would have thrown hissy fits. You just took it like you were meant to. 

Now, Cecil has made a different kind of mistake, one that was controlled by his emotions. 

He fears that he’s going to make another one right now at the hands of your pissed off attitude. While in other situations Cecil would be able to calm himself, there’s something about you that just throws him completely off the handle. 

“What do you want?” you spit at him, the tone of your voice completely different than any other time Cecil had heard from you before. It was cold, rigid, harsh. 

It’s at this exact moment Cecil realizes he’s not entirely sure how to overcome this exchange without making a fool of himself. Well, he does have one idea that might save his ass. He can respond to your question the same way he typically goes with other superheroes, which is being a dick, obviously. 

It would be easier than admitting complete fault. Cecil has already somewhat let his emotions take the lead in this whole discussion so far and even then, barely any words have been communicated. Still, the director would rather let anger take the lead than his vulnerable side. Of course, he’d prefer not using malice, but maybe that’s the only way he’s going to be able to separate himself from this situation he’s gotten himself into. 

Also, Cecil does truly believe that the events that led up to last night are not entirely his fault. You were the one with the heat problem in the first place anyway. 

The older man reluctantly accepts his fate; you’re going to turn this into a larger problem than it already is. He quips back with an equally measurable amount of anger. 

“You need to listen to me, got it? No talking, no crying, just listen to what I have to say.”

Cecil isn’t at all surprised to hear you scoff and watch your eyes roll. Meanwhile, your tail sways back and forth quickly. Cecil pretends not to look at it, but fails milliseconds later. The fur is puffed up so much, it actually looks larger than usual.

You begin, “I don’t think you have-”

“I said shut the fuck up. That’s a direct order,” he says, pointing a finger and getting you to press your lips together instantly. 

With the sudden nasty response out of Cecil, your eyebrows raise instinctively. You are clearly taken aback and dip your chin towards the floor out of submission for what the man has to say. Something flickers in your face; it appears that the previous anger in your system is temporarily subdued. He hates that these glossy eyes you give him look eerily similar to what he saw last night when he was rutting into your pussy at full speed. 

Cecil adjusts his tie, then clears his throat. He can’t be thinking about that right now. 

He tries to motion for you to sit on the bed so that he has the upper hand, but you silently decline by shaking your head. Your arms remain crossed and legs stay rigid, like you’re stuck in place. Cecil pinches the bridge of his nose while he paces back and forth a couple times. He has to avert his line of sight from the obvious mess he’d left behind earlier. 

Right as you open your mouth, facial expression briefly faltering to show potential concern towards the same man who screwed you over (both metaphorically and literally), he cuts you off. 

“I don’t even have words right now,” Cecil begins, narrowing his eyes in your direction. Similar to you, he now stands still and allows his left hand to animate the absolute frustration he’s feeling. “Listen, all I have to say is I have the pills. What happened between us was a mistake. It won’t happen again.”

There’s only a few seconds of silence. Then you raise your voice.

“Excuse me? A mistake? You’ve got to be kidding me,” you blink slowly, “there’s no way this-”

“Actually, there is a way. I can assure you that last night won’t have a repeat, and I need you to promise you won’t go off telling anyone else. For fuck’s sake, if you had just taken those damn pills,” Cecil retorts angrily. He’s growing annoyed that you won’t comply and accept defeat. He should have guessed this would be your reaction. 

Your arms fall to your side. The tail behind you stops swishing. “Why…why are you talking like it’s my fault?”

Cecil cocks his head to the side. 

“Because you weren’t thinking clearly, that’s why,” Cecil shrugs. 

Your mouth falls open. Then, your fists clench so hard, the knuckles turn white. “I cannot fucking believe you! Me? I wasn’t thinking clearly?!”

This particular response cracks something within Cecil. He had every right to just throw the pill container in your direction and teleport out of here. He’d already said his peace, the man can leave under the assumption that you’re going to keep your mouth quiet about this whole ordeal. He’s more than aware that walking away would go against one of the main reasons he showed up here in the first place, it’s just that Cecil is so livid he genuinely considers it. 

In the end, he cannot bring himself to depart so quickly. Instead, Cecil recognizes that he wishes to pursue something different. Rather than trying to get you to outright admit you’ll stay mute about what occurred, he feels this coldness seep through his skin. His usual argumentative methods suddenly feel much more influenced by his emotions than that of a minute ago. 

Simply put, he’s not going down without a fight. He will not be criticized for this mess whether you like it or not. Cecil merely shares partial responsibility, in his opinion. It takes two to tango. Your mistake in not taking the pills resulted in the mistake he made earlier; a domino effect.

“I don’t give a shit what you believe in.”

“Cecil, what the fuck are you on? Why are you blaming me for all this? I didn’t drag you into my apartment. You were the one who decided you needed to stop me from finding my own solution,” you interrupt. 

He fires back, practically yelling, “You are an adult, so start acting like one. You knew exactly what state you were in when you almost waltzed out of here last night. Jesus- can you imagine the headlines? Hearing that one of my superheroes went out on the streets to get laid? Or did you even consider your safety for even a second?”

“What is this?! Are you more worried about me, or your freaking name?”

“I made one. Goddamn. Mistake. Sorry for wondering how one night of terrible decision making might end my career.”

The last part makes both you and Cecil go dead quiet. 

It was either the words themselves that made you go mute, or it was the sharpness in his voice. He’s breathing heavily now, fingers twitching to maybe pick up and throw something, anything. Cecil hasn’t been this pissed in many years. It’s crazy to think how you managed to spur all these sudden emotions in the older man in the span of a few hours or more. He’s absolutely enraged and feels that he has every right to be. 

Whereas he had expected you to fully bite back, perhaps even rip his head off or attempt to attack him with your sharp claws, Cecil is confused when he’s met with pure silence. The empty look in your eyes kills him. Just behind you, the tail stills. 

Cecil’s world is falling apart and he doesn’t even realize it yet. 

Then you take a step toward him. You ask a devastating question. “Why…why did you stay? Cecil, why did you help me? You could have left.”

“It’s not that simple.”

“Oh, it’s exactly that simple. It absolutely is.”

Now it’s Cecil’s turn to go dead quiet. He looks at the ground, the bed, anywhere but you. 

Then you continue in a meek voice, “Don’t pretend that I’m the only one affected. You were here, too. Stop acting like…this was a mistake.”

Nope. That was probably the worst thing you could have said to him. The mere suggestion, or illusion, to the idea that Cecil might have fucked you for the sake of maybe some…some feelings? No. 

He’ll never admit that. 

He refuses. Even when his heart throbs in his chest and the tips of his fingers are tingly with pins and needles, Cecil will pretend this was all a minor slip-up on his end.

The thing is, Cecil has been placed in charge of a multitude of catastrophic events in his lifetime. He’s absolutely positive that even more will be sent in his direction just in the next month alone. That being said, he can’t recall a time he’s been both the problem and solution for a damn cat. The older man is very much aware that his emotions will continue to cloud his better judgement for the duration of this fight if he doesn’t get out of here soon.

It’s getting quite exhausting. Maybe that’s why he asks the next question with pure hatred for you and the way your cute face still sends a throb in his pants. 

“Are you fucking stupid?”

You squirm after Cecil delivers the heartbreaking blow. His words make your hips rotate in a slight circle, knees pressed together which result in your thighs rubbing against one another. The cat-like feature behind you comes back to life. The way you keep shifting your weight, mixed with that damn tail twisting back and forth, the director is suddenly wondering what the hell your deal is. 

The strange behavior is quickly dismissed. Whatever internal battle you were currently dealing with gets covered up with an overly dramatic outburst. Cecil is almost positive you’re just doing this to piss him off some more. 

“Me? You’re asking me if I’m being stupid?” you ask. 

“Who the hell else am I talking to right now?” Cecil sneers. He steps forward, closing the gap. He points a finger, shaking it in the air as he musters up the courage to spew out, “You’re acting like this is all on me. It isn’t. And you still haven’t said a word about whether you are going to stay quiet. I’ll write up a goddamn NDA if I have to. Fucking watch me.”

Suddenly, you’re flustered. Like, really flustered. Cecil notices that your face has darkened some shades of red and he swears there’s the faintest tear pooling in the corner of your eye. If he didn’t know any better, it was similar to the same face you’d been making before he…no. Cecil, focus, he tells himself. 

You reply with a shaky breath, still swaying in the spot near your bed, “Listen, I-I get you’re the director and all, but I don’t think it’s fair for you-”

“Dear Lord, don’t pussyfoot around this. Talk to me like the big girl I know you are. I need you to promise you won’t say a word about what we did. To anyone. Not even Eve. God forbid Rex finds out I got laid with one of his coworkers. He will run to the nearest news station for a quick buck faster than Red Rush.”

Cecil notices you briefly wince; for what reason, he can’t tell. He would have assumed perhaps it was the fact he mentioned a dead supe’s name in the midst of this heated argument, that you were still recovering from the fall of the previous Guardians of the Globe. But there’s something about your tough guy facade that’s cracking quicker than he thought you’d let on. 

Something was wrong. It’s either his words finally did some emotional damage or…

He doesn’t want to assume what he thinks might be amiss with you. But he has a hunch.

Your eyes dart around the room. You’re doing everything in your power to refuse making direct eye contact with him. Cecil clears his throat, trying to capture your attention. When that doesn’t work, he scoffs under his breath and finally gets in your face. 

“Look at me,” Cecil whispers in that hoarse voice of his. 

His demand falls on short ears- well, cat ears, that is. The ones atop your messy bedhead flicker then resume their flattened position. Although you could pretend you didn’t hear him, Cecil knows better. He can catch sight of your little quirks faster than any other person. You’re just acting like a brat. 

Then, without a second thought, Cecil’s right hand shoots up at a speed he didn’t know was possible. His calloused digits pinch the fat of your cheeks, pushing them together which result in your lips parting ever so slightly. As Cecil anticipated, your focus goes straight to his eyes. 

He mumbles slowly, “Do I need to force the words out of your mouth? Huh? 

Cecil is close enough to both see and feel how your jaw tenses under his touch. It’s obvious you are definitely blushing now. Which is unfortunate, for Cecil. He hates seeing you like this; it only turns him on. 

The man’s gaze wanders to the adorable crease between your brows. Your ears flatten further. Then, without warning, you fucking whine. He nearly forgets that he’s supposed to be in a bad mood right now. How is he supposed to snap his fingers and put you in your place when you look back at him like this? It’s as if you were subconsciously taking the matters of this conversation into your own hands, whether you knew it or not. 

“Don’t…” you whisper, moisture prickling at your waterline. 

“What? Make you talk to me? Then act like an adult and look at me when I’m talking to you,” Cecil replies. 

“No, it’s not- it’s not that.”

Oh?

Now he’s extremely confused. Cecil doesn’t let go of your face. He leans forward half an inch. He’s close enough to smell you, and that all too familiar scent is so sweet and enticing. The moment he can tell you are on the verge of crying, he continues, “What is it? Talk to me.”

That’s all it takes. A simple question. A shred of concern on Cecil’s part. A split second of compassion rushing in and taking control of his words. The combination of all these circumstances is enough to trigger what he had anticipated was to come next. 

The dam breaks and you begin to wail in his grasp. You lean further into him, tears cascading down your cheeks onto his fingers. Then, as if you were aware you might be doing something wrong, you attempt to shake your head, but Cecil’s got you pretty stuck in place. How quickly you flip like a switch nearly scares him. It’s like you can’t stick to one outward reaction. Was it possible you were also having an internal battle similar to that of Cecil’s? 

Frustrated and obviously embarrassed, you huff, “I-It still hurts, Cecil! I don’t even know what to do!”

There’s no. Fucking. Way. 

You can’t be? Shit, are you…still in heat? How long had you been pretending that you weren’t in pain? Cecil’s stomach plummets so hard and fast he’s positive it’s laying on the floor. Now he feels stupid, actually. Maybe stupid doesn’t even cut it; he’s the world’s biggest moron. 

How was he not aware that such a primal biological event, which only applies to your specific situation, might actually last longer than a simple fucking night.

Your hormones aren’t concentrated just to the span of an hour or two. They likely branch out over the course of a day, maybe even more. Shit, you need the pills. They might help if you take them right this instant. He should probably get those to you.

But he doesn’t immediately reach for them. Not like he had been itching to do so before.

“I don’t understand,” Cecil says, slowly letting you go. 

You step backwards, nearly colliding with the mattress if you had not caught your balance. Cecil notices your tail swishing angrily. Your fingers play with the edge of your pajama shirt, twiddling the fabric back and forth in a restless manner. You begin to express anxiously, “I swear I’ve been trying so hard to listen. I have! Just didn’t want you to think I was playing a game or something.”

“A game? What game?” Cecil tries to touch your shoulder, but he misses when you dodge him. 

“I don’t know…I don’t even know what I’m trying to say anymore! I’m so confused! One second I think you should stay, the next I want you gone. Shit, listen- you need to leave, Cecil. Please, it’s for the best,” you beg, crying slightly louder. 

There’s a pause between you both now. The conversation had drastically changed. What was once a heated argument had transfigured into some fucked up emotional session full of exhaustion and fear. From who? Well, both parties. 

Cecil hates that he noticed something wrong with you earlier and didn’t just ask. God, he’s such an asshole sometimes. Why couldn’t he just take a breather and comfort you? Now he’s beyond confused and frustrated because what does he do? 

The logical answer was to leave. 

That was always the right thing to do from the beginning. Worrying about your health in the first place was what landed him inside your pussy just hours ago. 

He needs to walk out of here. Away from the mistake he originally made. He needs to successfully avoid making a second one before things get worse. That’s the smart decision to make. Perhaps your pills can kick in quick enough to subdue the symptoms. The lab made them strong enough to do that, he’s sure. Well, he isn’t actually positive, but he can guess.

However, Cecil can’t help himself. He’s nosey. Or maybe, deep down, he’s wondering what might happen if he lingers. Damn, he swears someone must have drugged him again just since being here because his own self-respect goes right out the window when he stares at those puffy eyes and pouty lips. 

And those pleas. The way you beg him to go. He’d rather stay.

Cecil almost asks what you need. He already knows the answer. The restraint is difficult, but he manages. He needs to listen to what you asked of him, despite not really wanting to.

“Fine. I get it. Well, we need to have another conversation when you’re not…you know. Here’s your pills. Just take ‘em now before shit gets worse,” Cecil murmurs. The man discards the pill bottle on the nightstand, ignoring the way your legs tremble. He turns over his left shoulder, ready to walk towards the door despite the fact he could easily apparate out of here. 

Right when he’s about to step out of the room, you did exactly what he had hoped you would; you reach out and place your hand on the back of his shoulder. The same spot you’d been clawing at last night. His spine shudders. Cecil stops in his tracks.

“Wait! Wait…Cecil, wait,” you continue. He can hear the floorboards creak faintly under the weight of your feet. The rest of the apartment remains silent. He didn’t have to look behind him to know you were still squirming in place. 

He’s too focused on the way you say his name. Like a sin falling from your lips. Fuck, he needs to get out of here. Now. 

Cecil looks at you instead. Of course he does. Although, he doesn’t immediately reply. Instead, he stares with no emotion, purposefully to make you sweat. It works; you whine once more. Cecil watches a total repeat of the same facial expression you made last night. 

His gut instinct tells him to put you in a familiar position so he can see it all over again. 

Then he says, “C’mon, speak up. Tell me what it is.”

God, he’s such a tease. 

You eagerly nod, then retract your hand and clutch it close to your chest. The other hand wipes your wet eyes. “How-How long will it take to work? The pills?”

“Uh, I don’t know. Maybe an hour? Little more?” Cecil shrugs. He’s adding on maybe a tad more time than it would actually take. Not that you need to know.

You groan out of frustration. You’re playing with the hem of your shirt again. He loves it when you do this; it makes your nipples more obvious. “I just- I just-”

“What? Spit it out.”

Then, you break down…again. You fall to your knees in front of the older man, rushing out something from your mouth about how badly you need him. Something about how the pain is too much to handle and what he did earlier really helped and…

Cecil accidentally blocks out all noise for a moment or two. The ringing in his ears comes back full force because he was in disbelief.

You wanted him a second time. Him. As in, Cecil Stedman. GDA director. Certified old man. 

Was his cock that good?

Well, you’re still kneeling on the ground asking him to fuck you, so yeah maybe that answers his question. 

Still not fully hearing you, Cecil cuts you off mid-speech and says, “I-I can’t! Don’t you realize how much trouble I’d get in…no, that we would get in?!”

“Please! I promise I’ll take the pills. It’s just, you helped me so much earlier…I was trying so hard to ignore the pain when you were talking. But then you yelled at me like that and-and it made the pain even worse,” you beg, growing needier as the seconds tick by. 

Cecil knows he shouldn’t give in. He needs to go. Although, hearing you admit that you get turned on when he gets angry was a different story. That alone gives him a brief lapse of judgement. 

The man goes to explain some half-assed reason why the two of you can’t have sex again, a sob story that even he won’t believe, but then his throat goes completely dry. Before he’s able to sputter out anything else even slightly reasonable, you begin to turn around. 

You’re still on your knees, but now facing the bed instead of him. Without fail, Cecil’s stare darts down to your bottom. He really likes these shorts on you. 

It’s a shame you had to take them off so quickly. 

In a last ditch effort to entice Cecil, you clumsily grab at the edge of your shorts and tug them down your plush thighs. Your panties are gone too, he realizes, while watching the movements unfold in what feels like slow motion. With your face pressed into the rug beneath your bed, you slowly arch your back, presenting yourself to Cecil.

And he hates it. 

Why?

Because you’re soaked. So much so, that a sheen of slick glistened in the light and oozed out your cunt like it was absolutely necessary Cecil filled it straight away. Then your tail waves back and forth, enchanting the man to consider complying to your demands. 

Cecil’s dick comes to life in a matter of seconds. He’s rock hard. 

This just might be the first time he’s felt alive since he left you. Then, Cecil begins to relive the exact feeling he had the last time he was in this room; he is the solution to your problem. Of all people, you trusted him. Despite the rift between you two, it’s still him. 

That speaks volumes. 

He continues to stare quietly at your body. His feet feel stuck to the floor. You interrupt his ethical questioning on this whole situation with some more whining. “N-Need you so bad. Please, just fuck me. I promise to take the pills after, I swear I will.”

This pitiful behavior goes straight to his hardening member. Cecil feels extremely constricted in his pants, and wants to touch you so badly even if it’s so wrong. He can’t say no at this point. He’s too far gone, and so are you. 

Well, he’ll just have to solve your problem again, won’t he?

Cecil licks his lips, watching the way you continue to push your ass into the air while your face remains stuck to the ground. He pinches the bridge of his nose, sighing as he murmurs, “You can be so pathetic sometimes…”

Of course, the comment makes your hole clench. Cecil could cum right then and there. 

He came to your apartment for one reason and one reason only. That was to give you a solution to your problem. So given the fact he’s already let his emotions get in the way before, he saw no reason not to let them take over again. 

There’s some more silence on his end while he contemplates what to do next. Just as you are about to ask him if he’ll fuck you, he cuts you off. 

Without warning, he brings up a finger to his earpiece. He flips through the appropriate channels with ease since it’s all secondhand nature. Cecil knows exactly which person he needs to speak with directly. 

“Donald?”

“Yessir?”

“I’ll be back within the hour…she’s having trouble taking the pill.”

A lie, but somewhat convincing nonetheless. Donald, ever so concerned, questions his boss by asking, “Do I need to get in contact with the lab?”

Cecil realizes he needs a slightly better alibi. Still holding onto the earpiece so that he can talk, he finally steps forward. With his achy knees that are a tad sore, Cecil gets behind you. 

His other hand reaches forward to play with your wet folds. The motion makes you gasp, but you manage to hush yourself so that Donald doesn’t hear. Cecil sucks in a sharp breath when he notices a dribble of slick escaping your puffy pussy and inching its way down your thigh. 

It’s at this moment Cecil realizes he can’t afford to waste another single second. He needs to be inside you. Now. 

“No, I have something to stabilize the situation. It’s better if I work on my own with this one.”

“You want to elaborate on that?”

“No.”

“Oh. Alright. Well, uh, copy that. I’ll tell the lab to stand down I guess,” Donald mutters, then gets off the channel a second later. 

It was obvious that Donald didn’t sound convinced at all. The lie barely sounds believable. Cecil is sure he will end up having to come up with something better later, but that’s a problem to be dealt with in the future. Although, the fact Donald didn’t press further was a good time. His temporary lie will, at the very least, hold off Donald long enough for Cecil to blow out your back. 

Cecil pulls away from his earpiece and presses a cool finger into the heat of your pussy. He says nothing, simply watching the way you envelope his digit so quickly. Out of reflex, your cunt contracts around him and you cry. 

He's barely done anything and he’s already cursing under his breath at the sight of wetness gushing out of you. Cecil hums to himself, running his other hand along your soft bottom. It’s as though the absence of his touch was too drastic on you, as the second he starts eagerly fucking your pussy with his single digit, you begin to writhe in pain. You hiccup out a strangled moan, followed by a sharp gasp when his finger curls around that soft, sensitive spot along your walls. 

He isn’t going to drag this on more than he already has. Cecil pulls out of your heat, momentarily sticking out his tongue to taste your slick on his tastebuds. He unbuckles his belt and takes note of how your ears twitch excitedly at the sound. Cecil pushes his pants and underwear down to release himself from the confines of his suit. Gripping his hard member, Cecil exhales hard out of his nose. 

The veins along his cock are so sensitive, his tip flushed a deep red. He catches wind of you mumbling something under your breath. He didn’t hear all of it at first, but he swears you murmured, “...so bad, Cecil. Need your big cock.”

Cecil hates himself for giving in so easily. Not just mentally or emotionally, but physically, too. The man can tell he doesn’t even have to bother trying to cover himself in any sort of lubricant; your pussy was going to be plenty. 

The moment his thick head slips inside your heat, Cecil goes completely blank on any previously negative emotion; the guilt, the shame, the regret. All of it can be momentarily subdued just so he can focus solely on the stretch of your hole around his girthy length. 

Inch by inch, he pushes past your poor, abused cunt. Dear Lord, he missed this, too. It’s like he can actually think clearer than before. His eyes shut involuntarily, but he’s thoroughly pleased with himself when he opens them again a few seconds later to see your tail shuddering in strange directions. It seems you can’t exactly make up what to do with it, too struck with pleasure and the deep fulfillment of getting your way. 

Cecil lets out a small relieved laugh under his breath. Then, his eyes dart down to where your bodies meet. He pulls his bottom lip between his teeth from how far he is able to push himself inside you. Not only that, but you felt fucking amazing. There’s two distinct thoughts crossing his mind at the moment; how can you still be so tight just hours after he railed you? That, and how on earth are you still so wet even though it’s been a while since he had his way with your pussy?

Your fingers clutch the rug near your bed, whining at how full you feel. 

“Oh, yes…” you trail off, so content with having this old man fuck you. Cecil adores the way you melt like putty beneath him. Just barely, he picks up on the sound of a gentle exhale, a guaranteed noise that you were very comfortable with the current position you were in. He almost chuckles again at how weak you become when he’s in charge of your pleasure. 

After taking his sweet time, Cecil finally pushes as far as he possibly can. He notices the moment his groin falls flush against your wet hole, you arch your back. The motion makes his puffy tip brush against what he swears must be your cervix. Momentarily, the older man wishes he took you in this position last time, because now your walls are squeezing him harder than ever before. 

The two of you groan in time with one another. His hands, still hugging your hips, tighten their grip. Cecil needs a couple seconds to find balance in himself before even attempting to pull out. He blames this on his creaky back and how fast his head is spinning. 

Clearly, though, he wasn’t moving fast enough for your liking. Before he can adjust his stance, or more specifically the position of his knees, you begin to urge him rapidly, “Ohhh! Cecil, need you to move, please!”

Your begging comes out so naturally, the older man doesn’t even bat an eye. However, since Cecil loves to be a dick, he feels the need to show you more of his angry side. Just to get a rouse out of you, of course. Truly, you should have never let it slip that his anger turns you on; he plans to abuse this newfound sense of power for as long as he can before the regret sets in again.

“Show me.”

“What? What do you mean show you?”

“Show me how bad you want me, sweet thing. Need to see it with my own eyes to know you’re serious,” Cecil says seductively, pinching the fat of your bottom.

There’s a tiny whine from your end. Cecil forcefully gropes you instead of leaving a flurry of soft touches. This results in a pornagraphic moan, to which the man merely watches in satisfaction. Cecil pulls out of your sickeningly sweet pussy. A slow-spreading ember trembles deep within his core, making the director personally concerned about how much of an effect you have on him.

The heat radiating off your body and pussy disrupts his ability to focus. His mind flashes images across the front of his mind, all of which are detailed fantasies of being able to fill you with his cum. Cecil wants to stain your walls white over and over and over again. He’s almost positive you’re going to end up begging for it at some point regardless. 

Even if you don’t, he’ll just tell you to do it. Cecil figures he could command you to do anything he pleases and you’d listen. Deep down, he knows that docile little hybrid he met in the lab a year ago still wants to make him happy, as much as you try to piss him off. That sort of loyalty is rare. It’s the kind that makes Cecil’s chest tighten, like a thorn was pressing up against his ribcage. 

He ends up being correct about guessing that you’d listen to his request. Only a few seconds later, you huff then slowly twist your upper body to look behind your shoulder. The curve of your spine looks so sexy from this angle even when your torso looks so turned around. 

There’s a little layer of sweat on your skin; Cecil has half a mind to lick you. 

You bat your eyelashes, push out your bottom lip, and slowly reach one hand in the direction of Cecil’s thigh. The claws barely graze his exposed skin, but he still hisses when you clutch the muscle and pull him into you again, causing the man’s cock to disappear another couple inches. 

This was a damn good way to beg him to fuck you. It works like a charm. 

“That’s right, there you go, sweetheart. Fuck- needed you again.”

Cecil decides he’ll regret that comment later. Right now he’s overly pleased with you wrapped around him like a vice. It’s his turn to groan at how eagerly you suck him back into place; shoved as far as he can go. 

His fingers dig further into the doughy flesh, pulling you closer so he’s entirely flush against your ass. Then, he finally starts to move. 

The tip of his cock nearly comes out your entrance, the bulbous head stretching you so deliciously and leaking a couple droplets of arousal across the rug. Without warning, Cecil snaps his hips in an upward motion repeatedly. Arms splayed in front of you, your face collides with the floor. Your eyes scrunch as your mouth forms the shape of an ‘o’, singing a song of cute low sounds and similar purrs. “Ah! Ah! Mmh, yes!”

The weight of his member is so heavy inside you. It’s as though Cecil has become some sort of vile monster and has released all his anger into multiple harsh blows to your weeping hole. The walls echo the same, smack, smack, smack, in the midst of your powerful, high-pitched cries for more.

Cecil nearly fucking sees red. It’s your fault he got so worked up. It’s your fault he’s here in the first place. 

It’s your fault he’s going to fucking claim you as his own. 

Each thrust jostles your body. Cecil peers downward, noticing that not only is your ass rippling from every jab of his cock, but it’s turning a deep crimson. The more you were forced to bounce back off this old man, the greater you’d buck and writhe. You tried to push yourself up on all fours, but Cecil gently pokes your spine closer to the floor instead, which causes you to hollow your back, contorting yourself into an extremely seductive position. 

Your chin burrows into the floor so all you can do is stare at the space underneath your bedframe. From what was noticeable at his angle, Cecil could tell your eyes were glossed over due to how hard he fucked you dumb. With a soft groan, followed by a deep gulp, you say, “Cecil, holy shit, how are you- ah! You’re being so rough!”

“Shut the fuck up,” Cecil sneers, bringing a hand down on your exposed cheek. He loves how loud you yelp in response. He doesn’t slow his rhythm; his gut is beginning to wrench in a knot that he knows all too well. The older man chases his high like it’s a drug only you can administer.

One of your hands roams aimlessly. Through the movement of your cute tail, he watches your dainty claws wrap themselves around the leg of the nightstand near your bed. Since you are practically holding onto the furniture for dear life during the onslaught of his thrusts, it starts to rock back and forth in time with Cecil’s movements. Any trinkets and other loose items on the tabletop begin to shift and make noise that he would rather not hear. 

He fully takes this moment to further abuse the fact you like it when he’s pissy. 

Cecil spanks you harder than before. He tells you, “Knock it off.”

He grabs your arm and yanks it behind your back to limit your mobility. The instant reaction tells him he’d done exactly what he needed to. 

Somehow, you manage to moan so loud, it practically shakes the space surrounding your bodies. The snug walls around his cock tighten for a good while. A string of curses fall from your lips. He admires how your fluffy tail swings past his face, straightens itself, then curls dramatically. Then, your other hand smacks the floor twice as if you genuinely didn’t know how to control your bodily functions. 

Cecil is falling deeper in love with the boisterous noise emitting from the back of your throat. He particularly loves how your breath catches from the way his thick length hits your delicate spot. He stares at himself inside your pussy, how your walls flutter so perfectly. 

He could watch this all day long. Subconsciously, Cecil thinks to himself that he could never get tired of fucking you. 

That’s the truth. It’s just that it’s probably the very last thing he needs to be thinking right now. 

His other hand, the one not holding your arm in place, runs up and down the soft skin of your back. His pace has slowed down but only barely. He continues to thrust in and out of your slick. Cecil feels how you tense up under the pads of his wrinkled fingers. 

Your tail instinctively wraps around his wrist, reminding him he's definitely here and this is definitely happening one more time. You try to get him to say something, literally anything. He’d been too quiet. “Yes, yes, right there…oh fuck, Cecil it’s already helping.”

The words do not aid him into talking. He has every reason to remain silent. If Cecil says anything more than he already has…he’s afraid he’s just going to retract everything he previously mentioned during the fight. All those words about this whole situation being a mistake…that wasn’t the case. He’s doing this with purpose. You know it, too. 

Cecil feels sweat building right above his brow. He swears under his breath. Whatever this is, it has to stop. It won’t continue after today, Cecil quietly concludes without your permission. It’ll just be a conversation for another day. But the thought of not getting to do this ever again seems impossible. Like a feat he won’t be able to get over. 

He picks up the pace, letting go of your arm to grab your hips firmly. He catches that familiar ripple once again, every thrust making your body come slamming back on his soaking wet length. It drives him even deeper inside you, balls slapping your wet pussy so perfectly. 

Cecil, too far gone and eager to cum, accidentally lets himself mumble something under his breath while simultaneously squeezing your thighs. You freeze. Eager to hear his words, you question Cecil, “Huh? What’d you say?”

The director knows damn well you heard him. The frantic tics of your ears were a dead giveaway. However, he pretends he’s clueless. Just this once, he’ll admit what was on his mind. All for the purpose of getting a reaction out of you. 

“You’re sin. Pure,” thrust, “fucking,” thrust, “filthy sin.”

Whatever imaginary armor Cecil had equipped before plunging deep in your pussy was crumbling away like it had been made of straw. He’s falling apart, and fast. You’re not much better off either. Despite the bargaining with Cecil that his cock was purely just a tool of sorts to help with the side effects of your heat, he can tell by your next snide remark you were thoroughly enjoying this as much as he had been. 

“What’s wrong, Cecil? Too-Too hard to resist? Temptation makin’ you act this way?”

“Don’t talk to me like that,” he chokes, suddenly thrusting so hard that the tip of cock immediately collides with what he can only guess must be your g-spot. 

The notion makes your jaw go slack. Your head lulls to the side, eyes rolling to the back of your head. The tail in front of Cecil whips back and forth fervently. He hums out of delight. 

He knows he’s close. It’s a miracle he even lasted this long. Cecil was nearly positive that you drained him earlier this morning; apparently that wasn’t the case. His balls were swelling up so hard, he could tell he was minutes away from blowing a huge load inside you. The bulging veins running along his member slide back and forth against your velvety walls. It encourages him to keep moving despite the man really feeling an ache begin to develop in his lower back. 

He chases his high the same as you do. Although confined to your knees, which had to be practically raw skin from the frequent plummeting Cecil causes to your backside, you push back in time with his thrusts. Every time you do so, Cecil swears he sees stars. His fingernails cause dents in your skin. 

“Goddamn, kid. Fuck, you’re so…” he refuses to say anything else other than more swear words. 

Cecil feels the spark of something hot coiling in his gut. Then, you start blabbing about how close you were, which did not help his case. You mewl, “Fuck! Ah! Ah! Cecil, ‘m so close!”

He stares at your facial expression; the smushed cheek, tiny bits of drool escaping the corner of your lip, the closed eyes. Cecil notices a tear cascading down the side of your face, completely lost in the pleasure of his cock ramming into you at a much quicker rate. 

Cecil doesn’t like seeing you cry; unless it’s from how good he makes you feel. 

“Yes, yes! Oh, I’m cumming!” you whine. Your climax comes on too fast and strong for either of you to recognize. Without warning, you yelp and clamp down on Cecil. He gasps at the feeling, not expecting it by any means. He lurches forward, pressing into the small of your back with his suit. He exhales slowly as he feels your walls pulsate around him. 

Then, in rapid succession, he cums long and hard. He grinds down on your swollen lips and swears that his seed has pushed its way out of you and onto the floor. He stalls for a bit to catch his breath; secretly he wanted to keep you plugged up for as long as he could. His dick starts to go limp inside you. He wishes he was much younger; maybe he’d have enough energy to go for a second round. 

Dear Lord, that should not be his primary focus right now. How the hell do you manage to make him feel all these thoughts? 

You gently sob into the rug, still crying from what he can only assume is overstimulation. Cecil pauses to look and listen. He just wants to ensure you’re not in pain anymore. When he can’t confirm from the mere glances, he slowly pulls out of you while mumbling, “You okay, kid?”

With a small sniffle, followed by a short hiccup when he properly leaves your warmth, you slump on the floor with all your weight. Cecil doesn’t get up from his knees right away despite the uncomfortable pain shooting up his entire upper half. His eyebrows furrow together as he awaits a response. 

“Yeah, yeah,” you trail off, “so sleepy, Cecil.”

His heart melts. 

“Yeah? You want to lay down?” he wonders. 

He pulls himself together for the second time today. After shoving his shirt back into place and getting his zipper to cover the evidence of his softening member, he caresses the back of your thighs. They’re so red; completely raw from fucking you with absolute vigor. You glance back at him, fighting off a loopy smile. Nodding slowly, you tell him, “Maybe a nap?”

“That’s a good idea, sweetheart.”

Cecil waits until you have the strength to come off the ground. Your legs tremble furiously and the older man almost wants to pat himself on the back for doing such a great job. Bad timing, though. He follows you to the bed, where you completely discard the pants and underwear that were pooled around your ankles moments ago. When he notices a combination of liquids seeping past your puffy folds, Cecil takes it upon himself to grab a rag from the bathroom. He knew where they were after the last time he had been here. 

It’s a bit amusing to think that less than twelve hours ago, he was ransacking your apartment to help you find something of use for your heat. Who knew it would be him both times. 

After cleaning your sensitive area, and damn near smiling at the adorable sounds that come out your mouth, Cecil tucks you into the soft sheets of your bed. He smooths some stray, frizzy hairs which frame your face. He accidentally touches your cat-like ears, making you purr. 

“Cecil?” you grab his wrist. He freezes in place.

“What?”

“Stay with me?”

Cecil’s eyes darted away. He doesn’t look you in the face.  “I can’t.”

Beneath the blanket, he notices the moving lump, which had been your tail swishing around, suddenly stills and retreats. The expression on your face looks like you might cry again. Cecil nearly grows annoyed because he preferred if you made this face from the power of his cock, not because he has literal obligations to tend to. The world around both of you is still moving, which means Cecil has work. The responsibilities of being a GDA director do not pause even if he oh so badly wishes to stay a bit longer in the comfort of your apartment. 

Not only that, but he can feel the eerie sense of regret starting to course through his veins once more. Reality is settling in whether he likes it or not. Like he’s racing against time, there is only so much of his morning left for Cecil to devise a much better excuse for Donald. There’s no way he could be upfront about this. You’ll just have to remain Cecil’s dirty little secret in the meantime. 

He thinks back to what crossed his thoughts while he had been fucking you earlier…the idea that this was truly and absolutely going to be the final round. No more sex after this. Whatever happens from here on out, you have to use your pills. 

Cecil just hopes he can actually stick to this silent rule he’s made for himself. He’s pulled out of his thoughts when he hears your body shuffling underneath the blankets; an attempt to get more comfortable. He notices you’ve left an obvious space next to you meant for him. 

“Seriously? Not even for a little bit?” you whisper with big eyes. 

Cecil fights the urge. He really does. 

But the internal battle is lost once again. What is this? A third time he’s struggled to leave your presence? How many more times will history repeat itself? It’s almost a bittersweet moment but then Cecil fully recalls exactly why he was here and glanced at the nightstand. 

The pills are still resting there. His hand reaches out and grasps the bottle, looking at the information along the side. While not being able to stare you in the eyes, he suggests, “How about I give you these and I stay only a couple minutes? Okay?”

“Yeah, yeah that sounds good,” you mumble. A quick yawn escapes your lips. So cute. 

Cecil hates his usual stubbornness is chipping away so gradually. It’s as though he is going through some sort of transformation all thanks to you. What was this? A storyline which mirrors that of the Grinch who stole Christmas? He had gone from being a grumpy jerk to this old man who dotes on the hybrid superhero at his work. Did it take sleeping with you two times to teach him some sort of fucked up lesson? 

If Cecil has learned anything, it’s that he has grown into a weaker person; the last sort of quality a GDA director needs to possess. He’s the type of person who is meant to be glued to his workplace every hour around the clock working towards making the world a better place. However, standing in his employee’s kitchen rummaging for a cup in the sea of pastel colored coffee mugs makes him feel less like the man he ought to be. 

He comes back to your room with a glass of cool water. He extends it in your direction and makes sure you don’t spill any liquid. Your hand movements are a bit jerky, still recovering from how hard he railed you. After sitting up to sip at the water, Cecil opens the pill bottle and hands you a singular pill. You take the medicine quickly. 

“Please call me if you have any side effects. It’s been a decent chunk of time since you were off them, so I wouldn’t be surprised if you had something come on in the next day or two,” Cecil says, hands pushed into his pant pockets. At least there’s minimal evidence on the clothing from what the two of you did. He doesn’t see anything from the naked eye that would suggest he just slept with his employee.

Your eyes dart all over Cecil, from his face to his shoes. It’s like you couldn’t determine if he was still here or not. Was it possible you were nervous he was about to dart out of here again so suddenly? That sort of realization kind of kills Cecil. He wishes he stayed last time to tend to your needs like he is doing now. It’s a bit…gratifying, in a sense. Like all of this effort was of some sort of value. 

“Okay, I will,” you trail off, pulling your bottom lip in between your teeth. Then, you set the glass on the nightstand and shimmy further down under the covers. 

The older man feels awkward, like he’s meant to say something but can’t tell what it might be. Cecil feels like a fool. He came in here ready to start and win a fight, only to surrender to his sexual desires like the flip of a switch. How he acted now was a direct contrast to how this whole situation started not that long ago. He’s tired, cranky, and ready for a nap. When Cecil entered the GDA building yesterday, he had no idea he’d been getting laid twice in the matter of some hours. 

Not just laid. He fucked you of all people. 

Without warning, you whisper Cecil’s name. It makes him jump. 

“Cecil?” you ask, “Are you…are you still mad at me?”

He shifts uncomfortably in his space near the bed. His gaze wanders to the nearby window. Cecil wishes he knew how many minutes were lost from his director duties since being here. It doesn’t really matter, at the end of the day. He still has to deal with the consequences of his actions nonetheless. Which, also, includes needing to reassure you. 

Cecil should properly apologize for his outburst earlier. How he spoke, the way in which he became so accusatory for the sake of saving his ass, the fact he called you stupid. He won’t do it, but he can at least try to put your mind at ease in this moment. 

“No,” he replies with a long sigh. It’s the truth; he’s more upset with himself, though. 

“Oh. Okay.”

“This…” his finger motions between you and himself, “this can’t happen again. You know that just as much as I do.”

“I know,” it’s your turn to sigh the same way he had just a moment ago. 

He stares at your face. Really stares at it. Cecil wishes to kiss you.

The man clears his throat, then glances at the door behind him. He needs to go before something else occurs. He can only allow himself two mistakes today. 

“When your heat blows over, contact me. We need to talk about this, just not now. I…I need some time and space. I think it’s only appropriate we both take that for ourselves.”

Fuck, he loathes being vulnerable like this. 

“Yeah, yeah, sounds good…”

The two of you nod at one another. Like this was any ordinary business meeting coming to a close. The gesture makes his stomach turn. 

This time around, Cecil can finally recall the last image in your bedroom before he apparated away; you lay comfortable in your bed with flushed cheeks, knotted hair, and eyes that begged him to stay. He doesn’t realize he’s tearing up until he’s reaching for the tissue box on his desk. By the time he’s dabbed at his eyes, Donald walks into his office. So much for having time to create a better alibi. He’s screwed.

tags: @taco-wiener @ahdishna-superskaya @sweet-gilf-eater @mmmmhhmmmsblog @sephoutlet @confessions-of-a-library-page

[flaxan-invasion]

"Cecil would play favorites with his hero lover" "Cecil would bench them if he thinks something is too dangerous" WRONG. Cecil would send his lover to their death if it meant saving the world and that's something they've both accepted going into the relationship.

[tonycries]

Right Round

Synopsis. He’s a 10 but you milk him dry?!

Pairings. [SEPARATE] Higuruma x Reader, Gojo x Reader, Ino x Reader, Sukuna x Reader, Choso x Reader, Geto x Reader, Nanami x Reader, Toji x Reader

Content. MDNI, fem!reader, making him cúm dry, making him WHlMPER, p sIapping, spítting, chokíng, headIocks, challenges, DlLF!Toji (well he already is), Avatar AU (for Geto), Fire-bending master!Geto, use of powers, true form!Sukuna, Heian era, DP, Sukuna’s second mouth, overstím, squírting, slight dry-húmping, they’re GONE, GOJO’S POWERS, Shinjuku Showdown FR, ìnappropriate use of cursed techniques, unIimited void, he’s feraI, slight pIots, matíng presses, fuII neIsons, manhandIing, pussydrunk JJK men, sIight bóndage (Higuruma), creampìes, cúmpIay, slight cúmfIation, pet names, swéaring.

A/N. ALRIIIIIIIGHT I heard you babygirls ab Zuko okay?! And he just kept remindig me of Sugu so…

♡ TOJI FUSHIGURO - 6 rounds.

Your neighbor Toji has been eyeing you for a while.

Of course—one could argue that that was simply due to the structure of this place. It was one of those shoebox apartments; deceptively smaller-looking on the outside, with a pitiful few sprigs of a garden and an elevator that never worked. The only thing the exterior got correct was just how…intimate you’d be with your next-door neighbor. 

And you knew all too well.

When you first moved, you’d walked the few steps it took to knock on your neighbor’s door - Fushiguro, the nameplate said - and you were met with…the most attractive man you’ve ever seen.

Off-color undershirt. Tall stature.

A body that could’ve been handcrafted by the gods themselves as he lifted a muscular arm up to grasp the door frame. “Tch. Whatever you’re selling, we’re not buying.”

But you weren’t put off - because you’ve been eyeing Toji, too.

And the moment you saw him, you’ve been wanting to ride that man dry.

But perhaps that was too much for an introduction to your next-door neighbor, no? That was probably more of a second meeting thing- hah. And so you’d hastened to explain that you were actually the new tenant, handing over the bundle of cookies that you’d baked for the residents you were close to.

And Toji had looked at the cookies, and at you….and at the cookies…and at you- before ultimately sticking his head outside and glancing down the hallway - as if to make sure that this really wasn’t some superior marketing tactic. 

And yes, he really had just gotten free cookies.

Finally, he raised a dark brow at you and smiled - or at least what you imagined was a semblance of a smile. Just the slightest quirk of his scarred lips. “Heh…we’ll get along. Nice to meetcha, I’m Fushiguro Toji.”

And just then, Fushiguro Megumi had made an entrance at the wafting smell of freshly-baked treats. Immediately tugging the bag out of the man’s hands and taking it for himself-

You promised Toji that you’d make another batch for him.

And so you did. And so you baked, you accompanied Toji shopping, you helped him move away from giving poor Megs instant ramen for dinner all the time—you even got to bake in their kitchen when your oven once broke down. 

Thus. After a few months, Saturday nights often looked like an amalgamation of both your previous routines; with you ignoring your manager’s overtime phone calls to put on your favorite show and indulge in some selfcare. Toji with his pen out and his eyes squinting at the latest jockey racing results- dammit, Haru Urara lost again. 

Down the hall, Megumi was fast asleep.

All in his apartment.

You can’t remember the last time you’d wound down in your own- but before you can consider what that meant…Toji’s throwing his pen down. He heaves himself up from the brightly-lit dining table to sit down beside you—gaze narrowing at the half-shitty soap opera you’d put on to pass the time. “What…the hell is that?”

“A show.” You retort.

“I get that- hah, you think m’stupid?” Toji rolls his sage green eyes. And before you can reply with something smart, he’s gesturing half-heartedly at the screen before him. “I mean- why the hell is there so much…crying and moaning.”

Your gaze snaps to the quickly-shifting scenes on-screen, “That is, uh…” In the few seconds you’d looked away to scour Toji’s library for a book that wasn’t a sports magazine or a Haru Urara fanbook, it seems the plotline on the TV had taken…a far more different route. “Sex.”

“You think I fucking don’t know what’s-” As you’re laughing your head off, Toji cuts himself off and pinches the top of his nosebridge. Surely to ward off his oncoming headache.

You always did do that to him. In the best way.

And after a deep breath, he gestures idly at the screen once more. Or more specifically: the way the love interest’s eyes widen in shock, mouth dropping as he looks between where they were connected. He’s saying something that makes you still, “Why is he talking about…cumming dry? There’s no way that’s fuckin’ real.”

“It is?” You’re peering at him in confusion. “It literally is?”

Toji crosses his beefy arms, “No way.”

“You’re going to argue with science, Toji?”

“M’just saying- it’s never happened to me.” He retorts.

And the words are out of your mouth before you can stop them- “…Is that a challenge?” You regret them as soon as they’re entering the tense air, making the older man stiffen beside you—

And you’re just about to apologize and bow yourself out of the awkwardness when-

“Oh you can fucking try.”

It’s how you find yourself being guided to Toji’s single bedroom - no matter how many times you’ve been in his apartment, you’ve strayed far from here - and sprawled out on his vast mattress. Legs straddling his hips. Hands braced on his pecs.

You’re grabbing a nice feeling of them and it makes the beefy man groan. He’s peering up at you through his jet-black bangs, only half-covering his smoldering gaze. “So…? I’m fucking hot, yeah, but you’re just gonna stand there ogling me or…”

“So humble, too.” You scoff.

And then you’re fiddling with the drawstrings of his sweatpants to take his thiiiiick, reddened tip in a single swoop - or at least try to. He grins, “Yeah. And don’t forget big.”

.

.

.

Toji Fushiguro fucks you - or it’s more like you’re on top n’ bouncing your hips down onto him - so that you won’t forget it.

So that you’re feeling the lil’ twinge of pressure between your legs once you’re walking out of this damn room, so that you’re feeling the remnants of his cum glued creamily to your pussy. It better feel empty without him in there - and Toji has one palm of his pressed up against your gaping mouth, so that you won’t wake Megumi.

And the other one of his was latched your left hip.

Gripping lovingly onto the flesh there and lurching your hips up and down—faster and faster. Moving. Manhandling. Because with just a few strokes of his sheer girth, you’re seemingly dickmatized.

And leaving it aaaaaall up to Toji to guide n’ prod.

To angle your hips in figure-eights so that he can feel his cum swirling inside. Stirring it with his glistening cock. “Atta girl.” Toji gruffs out at the feeling of being utterly slathered by your walls. “And what was that about cumming dry? Hah- because m’still rock-hard and the only one having trouble here is you—”

“You’re trouble.” You huff.

“Not what I said.” He snickers. Before his handsome face leans upwards and licks off a stray tear dangling from your cheek, “But you’re lucky you’re- hck! cute. And how many rounds was that, huh, doll?”

“Six.”

“Good. And how many rounds have I cum dry?”

“Zero…” Huffing at the smug look on his face- oh, how you wanted to wipe that off. Oh, how you wanted to make him eat his words—and perhaps without even realizing it, you’re jerking your hips stubbornly back and forth.

It wasn’t matching up to the controlled place that he was slammin’ away at the back of your cervix- but it sure was something.

Your velvety walls were utterly drenched in Toji’s hot cum by now - and that just made it so much easier for you to ground your feet into the mattress n’ take him. All of him. All of those crude, curved inches of him that opened you up perfectly—“B-but don’t think that you’re gonna get off that easily.”

“Oh yeah?” A moan hatches at the back of his throat- botched exhales. “And what’s different about this time, huh?”

“This time-” Fuck, Toji’s grin spreads in a feline way across his face. He was looking at you through half-lidded eyes, vision just a little blurred from pleasure, and there was an almost…wolfish hunger in them that makes you answer- “This time I don’t have enough space.”

And that makes one of his brows raise, “Hah?”

“I said it.” To emphasize your point, you’re parting your thighs just a little—almost difficult with the way his sap had them glued together. The milky-white ribbons of Toji’s cum leakin’ out of your poor pussy, so much of it that it’s dripping down and making his black curls there glisten. “Look…”

Toji’s pants slightly quicken at the sinful sight.

“Next time, you better not cum so much again- or else s’not gonna fit.”

Scoffing, he runs a thumb freely between your pussylips- and pushes in a few of the escaping wads. “And what if I just…make it fit.” Along with the fat edge of his thumb. “Juuuust like this.”

You’re wracking with shivers at the sudden intrusion, “What- cock so sensitive you can’t stop cumming?” Though you really liked it - with how much he was flooding your cunt every time - and he knew it, too.

“Pussy so whiny she can’t handle one more?”

“You wish.” 

And that’s earning you a good spankin’ on top of your pussylips.

One. Two. Three.

Without pause. Soon, your cunt’s feeling utterly raw in the aftermath—and you’re clinging onto Toji’s firm deltoids for dear life. 

But that didn’t mean you were going to back down anytime soon.

No…instead, you’re using the sudden grip to steady your weakened hips. With your two knees squeezing either side of his obliques, and your back arched into a curvature that makes his mouth water - you’re meeting Toji’s sloppy pace. Pushing him back down by the shoulders and taking over the sloppy pace—

Toji’s tipping over onto the pillows now. You’re smack-smack-smacking your hips down onto his at a jackhammerin’ cadence - faster than even he was, perhaps…

And it’s that fact that makes him breathe, “O-oh, okay.” Toji’s unsure where to put his hands- so you’re swiftly taking them into yours and making him puuuuush down on your bloated stomach. The wads of his cum glisten down your thighs, catching the dim lighting of the bedroom. “This is new.” Never has anyone ever tried to take charge of him.

And there was something so hot about it.

Something so irresistible about that determined set of your brow. The way you’re ruined on his cock and attempting to desperately make him even more so. The way you’re squeezing your cunt so tightly around his length—dragging your walls down it. And up. And down.

Your hamstrings ache as you ride. Your pussy’s grabbin’ him all over from the veeeeery crowned top- and then down to his thickened hilt.

Milking him is the only expression he can use to describe the motion.

“New as in…” You’re feeling the smile stretch across your face, milking Toji’s cock was all he was worth. Your hips accelerate. “-going-to-make-you-cum-dry sort of new? Or?”

Another spank- this time, right on your clit. “D-don’t get ahead of yourself.”

Pushing him down from attempting to take control of the pace once more. You’re throwing your head back and riiiding out his erection the way you like it - “M’just saying…you just stuttered.” His breath hitches at your response- “So victory might be closer than I thought.”

“I…”

“Awww. Is the big, bad Toji Fushiguro speechless for once?”

“Oh, fuck you.”

But, truly, he could feel the pressurized build-up at the base of his cock. Starting off small. Starting right above where his balls were twitchin’ and aching - and then moving up, up, uuup every single inch to angrily throb at his tip.

Furious, furious.

It had barely even started yet, and somehow Toji already knew that it was something different from all those orgasms that came before it. And so he’s clenching his eyes shut and gritting his teeth as he feels it overcoming him—

“Fuh-fuck.” He’s out-of-breath just from the first wave. And desperately - pathetically - Toji’s hoping to anything that’d listen that it wasn’t a dry orgasm. He’s pleading. He’s mentally on his knees and begging-

And then…with a sudden buck of his hips Toji’s round, blushin’ cockhead strikes the bottom of your pussy. It’s then that he’s realizing that perhaps manifesting really doesn’t work for some old bastard like him- because he doesn’t even have to feel the contrasting wetness of your cervix to already know. 

To realize that though his bliss was searing through his body in waves-

His cock was dribbling out absolutely nothing.

Six rounds and he’d finally lost it.

The rush of his orgasm coursing through him, accompanied by the inexplicable emergence of nothing more. His achingly hot tip can do nothing more than stick deep into your pussy n’ swerve around the bundled-up wads of cum there. Not adding. Not taking.

Horny embarrassment mingles with his broken pride; and Toji clenches his jaw as he peers up at you—you and that damn accomplished smile.

You’re fluttering your lashes innocently down at him- “Yes, Toji? Got anything else to say about cumming dry?”

“No…” He reluctantly admits. Before spitting out -“What else does that TV show have?”

♡ NANAMI KENTO - 10 rounds.

You didn’t expect your husband to be anything but a gentleman.

Who would?

Nanami Kento was the epitome of everything one would want their partner to be; he was sweet, he was patient, he was intelligent in many ways—but most of all, emotionally. He loved you at your best and he loved you when you didn’t feel so - and thus, he was the man that stood before you at the altar. 

Donned in a dark hakama. Blond hair slicked back. 

Rose-gold ring glistening on one hand. 

Stating vows to love one another from here onwards and forevermore; and he’s never meant anything more. Nothing has been truer in his entire life.

The celebrations were uproarious- not from Nanami’s end, but rather from your elated friends. Your new husband sat beside you silently during the reception, making sure you were eating well and that the air conditioning at the venue wasn’t too cold—though when he did get a few beers in him, he kept whispering from a scandalously close proximity how beautiful those robes looked on you…how much better it might look off—

You remember during this time that Shoko had tottered by - held up by weary Utahime - and blessed the two of you ten times over. Ultimately clapping Nanami on the shoulders and telling him to take good care of you.

And to not disappoint you on your wedding night-

But that was around the time that Utahime had decided that your brown-haired friend had taken one too many vodka shots. No chasers. 

And she’d dragged her away whilst you and Nanami sat hot-under-the-collar in your seats. Avoiding much eye contact - because surely most could guess what was bound to happen at the end of the reception, the farewell. 

And so had come the wedding night.

.

.

.

The two of you had barely made two steps into your five-star wedding suite before the expensive wedding clothes were falling to the floor.

And Nanami’s gotten you pressed into the most delicious full nelson on top of the rose petal-covered mattress. Cock heavy and hard. Those crimson flowers forming a heart underneath your two tangled bodies, and Nanami’s cock echoing the most lewd slurps n’ squelches.

It’d only gotten louder throughout the night- as Nanami swabbed the droplets of his creamy white cum inside you. Just married and he was already stuffing you full—

Four hours and hours. Making you cum through each one. 

As a gentleman should, of course.

You think it’s around the tenth or so round when your head’s tipping stupidly backwards - resting against his firm collarbone - as Nanami’s burnished red cocktip rams into your g-spot again. Glued using a few webs of his seed, it’s a carnal sensation that sets your teeth on edge, and the blond-haired man crushes you close—

“Sh-shit…” You’re keening out, voice taking on a shrill pitch. “Kento- oh, ngh—” Barely able to speak through the loooong, thorough thrusts that he was planting inside you. “I n-never knew you could be so…”

Another hard slam! that leaves your ears ringing. And Nanami’s tone husked to almost nothingness as he asks, “Yes, my love—?”

“Rough.” Crying out.

Though they were cries of utter pleasure- of wanting him to continue. Because in the years that you’ve known him, Nanami Kento has never fucked you like this—has never fucked you the way he was hammerin’ mean strokes into you on your wedding night. Harsh plap! after plap! of skin-on-skin.

Of his stinging pink pelvis pushing into yours.

And your husband moves at a carnal pace - muddled brain unable to process anything more - once he feels your limp hips slippin’ out from above him. Covered in a thin layer of sweat and slick leaking like a waterfall between your glossy pussylips. “Sh-shit, Kento, m’gonna…”

“I’ve got you, my love.” Nanami wraps his bulky arms underneath both legs and hauls you upwards. 

“Oh…” Your jaw drops, “You’re just moving me so easily.”

He merely chuckles at your cuteness- were you cockdrunk already?

And once you’re in proper position, laid out on top of the toned line of Nanami’s abdomen, he gently removes his arms. You’re almost disappointed at the massage of his flexing muscles- but before you can miss him too much, your newly-wed husband has them latched onto you again.

This time, in a headlock. 

Left arm looped around your pretty throat.

Right arm slithered between your legs and squeezing your clit immediately.

You buck up at the sudden burst of pleasure- stars behind your eyes. Moans ready at the tip of your tongue—

“Shhhh shh shh, I wouldn’t want whoever’s next door to hear my- haaaah, beautiful wife’s sounds. I’m a protective man, darling.” He murmurs throatily behind you, “Unless it’s that new last name of yours.”

So gone by the way his round, throbbing tip was bulldozing into you until your toes curled- “N-new last name…?” It’s taking you a little while to register it.

But Nanami Kento always was a patient man, wasn’t he? And so he’s simply nodding, leaning down and spittin’ straight between your pretty lips to claim that mouth as his own- and his as yours. Of course. “Your last name.” He responds. “Mrs. Nanami.”

The mere sound of it is enough to make you shudder—“Oh.”

“Or…your last name is mine, too.” Nanami hums to himself- now so utterly gone on the idea of it all. Of marriage. Of the fact that you’re his wife - his wife. He tightens his headlock and kisses your temple gently, “It’s actually why m’a little more…rough, today, my love. You’ll have to forgive me.”

“I l-like it.” You’re replying, “And this is all because of- hngh, our wedding night, Kento?”

“Not quite.”

And you’re feeling cum glue to your cervix as you’re bucking downwards- but of course, your husband would never keep you waiting long. With a simple kiss to that wedding ring you were wearing, he raises your left hand up, up, upwards—to grip at his golden tresses. You’re going to need it.

Because in the next few seconds, Nanami then plants his feet further flatly on the mattress and drills his cock up into you. Tunneling. Mazing. Bashing his ruddied tip against every sweet spot.

He was fucking you like he hated you - and the creaking bedsprings would agree - but oh, how he loved you so.

The sheer amount of pleasure that courses through you was almost numbing.

And without further ado, you’re babbling out the sweetest whimpers n’ whines of his name. Nanami’s breath fanning your face hotly as he leans in and whispers—“It’s because you’re my wife.” 

Lightning strikes you to your very core.

You could feel your high imposing. 

Nanami’s honed canines nip at your earlobes, “It’s the same but not-” He continues, throat growing more n’ more ragged with grunts, the more the thrusted inside. “It’s what I’ve been dreaming for this entire time- fuck, but it’s…so…so much better.” Voice shattering at this very moment. “Darling, it’s like I can’t stop.”

And he fully meant it.

You’re clawing at the beefy expanse of his forearms as he accelerates, your high starting to shoot and crackle with no end-

“I’ve tried.” Nanami’s voice sounds hollow, echoing with something far more primal than you’ve ever heard of him. And hit thrusts- oh, his strikes were so toe-curling. “I’ve tried—but I just can’t seem to. I’ve told myself, I’ve made myself…” The most sinful squelch! wrenches from your pussy as he rolls over your clit and makes you cum once more, “But no matter how hard I try…I just can’t seem to stop wanting to cum inside my wife’s pussy.”

“K-Kento—” Your back arches- lights flashing behind your eyes. “Inside- please.”

“That’s exactly the problem.” He sounds like a man maddened. “I need to see this pussy drippin’ wet with my cum.” You’re shivering as he runs the flatness of his thumb between your cunt’s folds, just so sensitive that the barest graze leaves electricity zapping through your body. “Nine time- nine fucking times-” He rarely swore. “-and I still feel the urge to watch her try to gulp me up. To watch her overspill. To feel her soppin’ wet right down to the womb—”

Breathless with need. “Then do it, husband…”

“I can’t help myself.”

And then Nanami’s cumming.

Like he’d always planned to, of course. But the only problem was that this time - the tenth - he’s feeling nothing but the smallest trickle of cum. Just the faintest few ounces.

And then nothing more- although it feels like he’s still pouring out as much as it takes to flood you. 

It hits him instantly that he’s cumming dry.

And Nanami’s mouth drops, blond lashes fluttering just a bit as he takes in the situation. No matter how many times he was draaagging his vein-covered cock in and out of your channel, it only left him as dry and overstimulated as ever. 

Tears pricking behind his eyes, Nanami gasps. “This feels like a-a premonition…”

“Of?” You blink.

“The fact that this night’s not over yet.”

♡ GETO SUGURU - 8 rounds.

“Please- ngh—” The sound that leaves you is far too pitiful for your reputation. How could you have ever thought…“P-please, I beg of you-”

“Oh? You beg of me, hm?” Geto’s words were just dripping with amusement, and his smile presses up against your throat. Clammy. Pulse thundering. That beautiful long hair of his was completely untied and falling over the sides of your body, strands tickling down your arched back- it was like a cloak of night. And so was the firebending master.

You’re throwing your head back and keening—“More.”

“You beg more of your enemy?”

What treason. What treachery.

How did you even get here?

You could blame all the training; all the long nights and the countless days spent by the water, the feeling of power rippling through your body as you mastered it. It was no secret that the Fire Nation and the Water Nation were at war.

These were the days that would end up as history, after all.

But you just wondered whether this battle would…between one of the best of the Water Nation - you - and the Fire Prince himself. Geto Suguru. 

Announced as next-in-line to the throne. The man your age with a fear-striking reputation that ran far and deep. And treacherous. 

It was a siege planned by the group of rebels you were a part of, and it was simple: attack the Fire Nation’s Royal Palace and end their bloodline once and for all. And for that, you’d have to take care of the prince himself.

Little did you know that what had begun as a one-on-one fight between the two of you at highly close quarters would turn into something….else entirely. As you’d straddled him during combat and prepared to call upon your powers - chest heaving, eyes locked - you had no idea who leaned in first. You had no idea which one of you was the first traitor.

And so here you were…

Knees digging into the hard floor of the Fire Nation’s Imperial Dojo, mouth slobberin’ out lungfuls of moans. Your head throwing backwards and hitting the prominent collarbones of none other than your sworn enemy—Geto Suguru.

Who was fucking his hard, red-hot cock into you like he hated you.

And he probably did.

And yet…and yet- he can’t stop himself from lunging his needy hips forwards and slamming French kisses into the back of your cervix. Those nice, gooey depths that welcomed him with such fervour it almost made him laugh. But despite how bemusing it might be, Geto knows he should stop. He knows he needs to adhere to his duties…but here he was again.

And again and again.

Runnin’ on his seventh round, where he’s ruggedly pulling his vein-covered cock in and out of you. He fucked mean. And he was only getting meaner as he cranes his neck forwards, digging his pearly white canines into the crook of your neck.

Harder and harder.

“N-ngh…” It’s just barely-there. Sneakily, Geto muffles that broken noise emanating from the back of his throat - meanwhile, you’re left moaning once his hot sap starts to fill your cunt up once more.

Just the cutest few drops - drooling - before he immediately pulls out and sprays those satiny ribbons down your outer pussy. Coating a few milky-white layers on top, he then rubs his swollen n’ sap-glossed tip uuuuup and down your pussylips; a few times before plunging back in again. “M-more…”

It’s so quiet and pitchy that he barely hears it. But Geto Suguru wasn’t the nation’s fiercest warrior for nothing- “Pardon?” Those amethyst eyes of his widen at your request. It took a lot to surprise the Fire Prince, but now…he’s leisurely blowing the jet-black bangs out of his face to peer at you. “Repeat that.”

“Is that a command?” You bite.

And what you’re getting in response is a quick swat on your left ass cheek. Geto’s trained fingers were purposefully increasing their body temperature, leaving his imprint sizzling on your skin—“It is.” That chiselled body of his leans his weight even further down on you, massaging you with smooth, perspired abs. His long tendrils tickle your neck, “And what do you have to say to that, smallfry?”

“I say…” You’re whispering.

Leaning down even closer- practically pinning you beneath him. “Mhmmmm?”

“Fuh-fuck you.” 

You weren’t repeating a single thing.

Turning your head ‘round to spit at him. Right across his face.

Except; Geto Suguru anticipates this very moment to leave his unfairly pretty lips ajar and let you spit in his mouth. Straight into his mouth. You’re watching in slow-motion as the glittery wad enters past his maw, getting smeared as the firebender then crashes his lips onto yours.

Such a filthy, filthy kiss. 

You’re moaning deep into his mouth Geto roves his hips back n’ starts prodding even harder. Even harder. With the red, spherical tip of his cock—he enters your womb and lingers for a bit. “Now…” Another slap. “That isn’t a very nice thing to say, princess.”

You gasp. He knew. 

That lineage you’d fought to keep hidden, for years upon years as you trained and grew stronger, noticed so easily by the prince himself…

Two royals tangled in something you couldn’t discern from passion and a fight.

Geto’s smile spreads against your mouth, and his hands come pummeling down in a rapidfire smack-smack-smack on your ass cheek. Temperature raising at the tips of his fingers. It’s practically sizzling- “What? Cock got your tongue?”

Another smack on your cunt. “Shut up.”

“Tha’s alright- you don’t have to answer me.” He croons. Dragging out with the tip of his tongue- and his cock, the sheer sensitivity of your pussy means that now even the slightest hit at your g-spot makes you jump—

Only for Geto to drag you backwards with a single arm wrapped around your throat. His bulky forearm bulges as he traps you in a headlock; and you’re just starting to ogle his muscles as he rams and rams his trained hips into you. Accelerating. Dragging it down your walls even faster- “But there is just one question I need to find out the answer to.” And that hand of his comes spankin’ down even harder. Smoothing along your ass cheek, “Can the Water Princess squirt—?”

“Fuh-fuck.” He was ruthless. If you thought that Geto was fucking you mean earlier, then you weren’t ready for right now. Your hands claw at the flooring before you, “No sooner than the Fire Prince can cum dry.”

It was the eighth round now and the both of you were gone.

With his hips pinning you down to the dojo ground. His headlock tighter than ever- veiny and muscular. The plump head of his cock drills into you so rapidly that it was nearly nothing but a blur of pink—in and out. In and out. 

Geto’s making it a few more sharp thrusts before he feels pleasure coiling at the pit of his stomach. And he can’t have that - of course he can’t cum before who’s supposed to be his mortal enemy - so he squeezes his hand between your legs n’ rolls over that oversensitive nub with two fingers. Powerful fingers—his heat was sizzling, a carnal sensation that you couldn’t even begin to describe.

You yelp.

And though you couldn’t exactly call on your waterbending at the moment, you’re still able to jerk your hips back n’ meet Geto’s thrusts. 

Fucking him just as angrily as he was fucking you.

Again and again.

The dojo grounds around you two rumble as though the most passionate fight, before your head throws back and you’re feeling your orgasm hurtling into you. And without thinking twice, you’re reaching underneath your body and grazing Geto’s aching, pistoning cock- just the slightest wisp of your waterbending power…being used to make your fingertips cold.

Cold to the touch.

Cold to contrast against his furiously hot cock.

With a flinch- you’re both tumbling into your highs.

“Fuck- oh…fuck.” You—with your cunt soakin’ itself in the excess of your orgasm. Dopamine coursing through your veins and your eyes fluttering shut- your peripherals sprint to the back of your head. And your toes curl…“I can feel you cumming dry, Suguru.”

“Sh-shut up.”

And so he was—his cockhead was flinching like he’d been spurting out ribbony wires of cum, his balls were clenching…and yet there was nothing. It wasn’t like the previous rounds when you had your deepest depths splashed in a sudden warmth- Geto, this time, was simply emptying out nothing.

Still fucking you ravenously through it-

“Cumming dry.” Elongating his wave of bliss. Rammin’ into your g-spot like a button, just so you could feel the slightest bit of the overstimulation he was. Almost laughing to himself, “You really fucking made me cum dry-”

“Problem, Fire Prince?”

“Not at all, Water Princess.”

And once he’s finally feeling it bate - his shaft having pumped out nothing throughout its entire duration - Geto presses his face into the crook of your neck and moans.

“Best of three then?”

♡ CHOSO KAMO - 3 rounds.

“Baby, I just…” Choso’s tone quivers, something deep and dark seeping into his words. They seemingly erupt from the back of his throat, against his own will, and hang in the air like a sudden spritz of perfume—

Wait…you swear you’re smelling actual perfume.

Brows furrowing. Turning your nose upwards, you take in the fleeting flowery scent; before looking over your shoulder at where your boyfriend was standing.

It was a slow, sleazy weekend: time for just the two of you. The honks of cars were winding down, and sunset dripped from Tokyo city’s roofs and foliage. The only time when Choso was allowed to refuse the missions that the higher-ups foisted upon him, and when you could decline your manager’s calls without feeling even the slightest bit of guilt.

Instead. He was supposed to help you bake cookies today, he was supposed to be padding into your shared kitchen n’ press a sweet, sweet kiss to your cheek - then insist he take over as he always does. He was supposed to be…not this. Whatever this was. 

Leaned against the dooframe. Head dropped. Hair loose. Breaths coming out in gusts. Choso had his Brother Bear t-shirt off and his bare chest flushed—damp with perspiration. It’s as though he’d been taken over by a sudden fever, ravaging through him, radiating heat through every single pore. Making his rosy cheeks flush even rosier as he jerks his dark, glazed eyes up to look at you.

And a sudden jolt goes through the both of you-

“Choso…?” You’re cautiously taking a step towards him- to which he’s surprising you by taking a step back. “Baby, what happened?”

“I-I just—” His voice hatches and cracks. Urgently clawing at himself. “Remember how I wasn’t feeling too well in the morning?”

You nod, taking another step closer.

He scratches behind his neck - movements torrid and heavy. Lethargic. “So I took a nap, and when I woke up it was just feeling…” Almost subconsciously, Choso’s hands snake down to the drawstrings of his sweatpants- fuck. And it’s just then that you’re registering the throbbing, aching bulge between his long legs. “-hot.”

Wordlessly, you’re looking at the calendar propped up on one end of the kitchen counter. Ah—the realization makes your lips part. Today’s date sticks out like a jagged nail, or - more accurately - like a…

Your gaze flickers back down to where Choso mindlessly paws at his erection. Breathless. Heating up.

“Cho, baby.” You’re catching his attention once more. Chocolate brown eyes glisten with tears- “I think you’re in heat.”

A shiver crawls through his body.

And his jaw drops, “Oh.”

Soon enough, you’re crossing the sizzling distance between you both and taking your agonized boyfriend by the hand. He flinches - just a little - as his skin touches yours- before you’re pulling him into a kiss and he simply melts—moans your name.

The two of you aren’t making two steps towards the bedroom before Choso hugs you from behind n’ crushes his red-hot, sensitive erection into your back. Breathing out a barely-audible plea. And then you’re both crashing onto the floor - the half-curse’s hands tugging on your panties, your hands flying to his cock.

He’s gotten you kneeled and arched into his scorching body temperature- before he reels backwards and funnels his cock in.

Just the very curve of it. Just the very tip—blushed red like a strawberry and twice as thick, he’s letting his eyes flutter shut as Choso cums instantly - instantly - at the feeling of your soaked pussy. The half-curse glues his hips to yours and starts spraying out satiny ropes of cum, “F-f-fuck…” His bottom lip quivers so cutely.

“Already, Cho?” Your purr.

It was just so cute. Because in the next few seconds he’s almost sobbing- “I…I can’t help myself.” Pretty face coming down to press in the junction of your throat, plastered with hot sweat and tears.

“Awwww.” You’re turning around to place a kiss on his cheek, “That heat’s made my poor boyfriend so sensitive, huh?”

And Choso simply nods and nods- “But m’not done yet.” Then you’re feeling the buzz of cursed energy- Choso’s cursed energy. You’re feeling your breath hitch as the technique of blood manipulation courses through his veins and renders his cock as hard as ever, flushed so hot you could feel him scorching between your swollen pussylips.

He just whimpers at the sensation. Blood manipulation always did leave him a little dizzy…

Then his hips are hammerin’ away into yours as though he was hungry to reach every pulsing spot and nerve inside. Every ounce of space. That spongy layer of your cervix felt like fucking heaven to him, and he didn’t know why but…but something was calling at him to keep on pushin’ his bundles of cum even deeper down there. To keep hitting it over and over.

To give you looooong, textured drags from his tip to his foamed hilt.

To let the most sensual grunts emanate from his throat every time he’s feeling your soaked walls attempt to clench around him. Chasing after the sensation of him stuffing you full.

In more or less of a doggy position, you’re steadying your hands on the lust-red carpet beneath you- and bucking your hips up. He was sizzling hot. 

Once.

It makes Choso’s doey eyes widen—and he’s staring at you with bated breath. “What are you…”

Twice.

The globes of your ass cheeks reach backwards and smack! his toned pelvis. That sugary scent in the air only seems to grow even stronger- “Fuh-fuck, baby, that’s dangerous. If you do that, m’gonna…”

Eyes glazing over twofold. A slick line of drool on the corner of his mouth. 

Your own twitches in amusement- you had him absolutely wrecked in nothing but a few bounces. In nothing but a few figure-eights making his pupils run to the back of his head. You’re bucking your hips back n’ forth to milk him even more—

“B-baby…”

And that seems to be the last straw for the heat-struck Choso Kamo: who’s lurching his needy body forwards. Pressing one large hand on the upper area of your spine, it doesn’t take much for him to lean his hefty weight down and make you collapse onto the floor- 

As you’re toppling - your boyfriend following closely behind as though stuck to you by superglue - he’s placing a forearm underneath your face. A soft cushion.

Making sure you don’t knock yourself on anything- it’s the last act of kindness you’re getting before Choso drills his hips down and pumps out hot, glutinous cum into you again. Head throwing back. Adam’s apple bobbing at the sharp electricity shooting through him—so much of it. And so soon, too.

It must be an effect of the heat, he’s thinking…or at least he would have had it not been for the state he was in.

Utterly ruined. Utterly pussydrunk.

Choso Kamo has his maw pressed in an open-mouthed kiss against the column of your throat, deep shivers wracking through his body as he whines n’ bucks. “B-baby, it just doesn’t seem to stop-” His slippery shaft sticks into your g-spot and you gasp- “I don’t know if it even can stop—”

Both in cumming- and in fucking you.

Without him even calling upon it, his blood manipulation rushes through his body n’ straight to his now-upright cock. Your poor, powerful boyfriend isn’t given a single split-second to let himself go flaccid before his cursed energy takes over again. 

He’s rutting and rutting his body forwards. Mouth gaped open at the sensation, and his wet pants synchronizing with the even wetter plaps! of skin-on-skin. They were getting even louder, even sloppier, by the second as Choso’s cum seeps out of your pussy n’ kept getting smeared between your legs. 

Hamstrings aching. His abs massaging your back-

Your eyes kept fluttering shut at the sheer pleasure- it was just about past the second round and you still haven’t gotten used to Choso’s sheer size. Only growing and plumpening himself out even bigger as he kept tunneling between your legs—and you swear that damn heat of his left you even more dickmatized than usual, too.

Letting out the prettiest music to his ears as his curved cock slams into your g-spot once more. “Maybe I don’t- hngh, want it to.” You babble out. “Maybe I need you to cum inside- oh, again.”

“Ohhhh, don’t say that.” Pelvis pressed up so harshly against your body that his happy trail scratches you in a way that was so carnal. And any time you’re shifting - Choso has his right hand wrapped around your throat and haaaaauling your weakened body backwards, “P-please don’t say that.” It all comes out in a rush. “If you do then…”

You’re shivering as his nose runs down your throat- drunk on your pheromones. “Then?”

“Then m’gonna cum again.” He whimpers, “And this time I don’t know if I can stop.”

And, truly, Choso could feel his next orgasm building and building at the pit of his stomach - and at the tip of his shaft. It was different than the two before—just a bit stronger, just a bit more electric- he was feeling zaps of electricity shooting to every point in his body; every blood vessel and axiom inside him. 

His mind was feeling foggier. His eyes were having a hard time keeping open just from the sheer pleasure of your velvety, wet pussy. Engulfing every inch of him. His hips were rammin’ sloppy strokes into you again and again and again until he-

“I-I—fuck.” 

Until he finally explodes into his high.

Tears streaming down his flushed face. Mouth glued to yours. 

One hand at your waist n’ swervin’ your hips around so that you can gobble up every ounce of seed he was streaming. Except…

Choso’s eyes shoot open once he realizes-

Except he wasn’t cumming at all.

“Baby, wait.” Because the half-curse surely felt like he was cumming, he surely knew that he’d reached the peak of his pleasure n’ was stretching out that dopamine every time he plunged into you. 

And he also knew that your wettened walls were squeezing out every drop like you knew, too, yet he just couldn’t feel a single thing dripping out. Not a single thing.

Choso grips the base of his cock with furrowed brows, “I think I’m…”

“Noooo, don’t pull out.” Needily, you’re reaching behind and clawing at his wrists as he attempts to. Only for Choso to shake his head and replace his engorged cock with a few fingers - it wasn’t as good as his entire length, but it was something.

And then he pumps and pumps his cock- if he couldn’t fuck deep into you then maybe he could coat your pretty pussylips with his glittering sap. But the only thing he’s able to let out is nothing. Cumming dry.

“Dry?” You’re looking behind in interest, and it’s just then that he’s realizing he must’ve said that out loud. Fuck, he’s so gone. “Three times was too many, huh-”

“No.” Choso interrupts, “No- no, baby. Don’t even think of that.” And he’s so tearful—he’s so apologetic at the fact that he couldn’t…

Cooing, “There’s nothing wrong with that, Cho-”

“I know, but…” And he hesitates, but the words disrupt from his throat anyways. “-something in me says I need to stuff you full of my cum until I can…hck- see your tummy bloat with it. Now.”

Your jaw drops at the sight of your innocent boyfriend uttering such words. Such dirty, dirty words.

And before you know it, you’re laid flatly on your back with Choso’s handsome face looming over you. The air between you two charges with cursed energy once more, and his red-hot cockhead sliiiides between your pussylips.

Blood manipulation leaving him harder than ever.

He hisses, “Th-this time, I promise to you m’gonna cum…”

“Whatever you say, baby.” Arms flinging around his broad shoulders.

♡ RYOMEN SUKUNA - 21 rounds…?

You most definitely weren’t going to survive, you think.

The Sukuna Estate has been in an uproar; though this time it wasn’t by reason of an attack, a duel, or the King’s torrid temper. Surprisingly. This time, it was because Ryomen Sukuna had returned from a far-off journey - he’d heard some relative of the Kamo Clan was spouting nonsense about being able to match the four-armed sorcerer in terms of cursed energy, and had gone to put that to the test - and he was victorious.

Of course, he was victorious.

There was no time that he wasn’t. In the few years that you’d volunteered yourself as one of Sukuna’s concubines, you’ve never known the King to lose to an argument let alone a duel. 

And of course, it must be said that Sukuna had numerous - if not hundreds - of women and men housed in his Estate. None coerced; the accepted concubines were more residents for his reputation, than anything. Stories had spread far and wide that he accepted those searching for pay, food, or simply a place to stay—and no intimate relations were a prerequisite for anything that they wanted. You could come at any time, you could leave at any time.

He’d long since tired of mortal desires.

Except for the ones you stirred up, of course.

The stories of the Kamo sorcerer’s pitiful defeat had also spread far and wide- and it’d been the subject of much laughter in the concubine quarters lately. In addition to the fact that - in his woeful attempt at snagging a win and a name for himself - the opponent had called on the help of several different clans (the Abe, the Zenin, the Fujiwara traitors) to ambush and attack Sukuna. 

Though of course they were fallen. As were their men.

And according to the whispers, the death toll had reached the hundreds before Sukuna made his path back home. Back to you…if you were to be so presumptuous.

It wasn’t a secret that you were his favorite- and the ministers of the Estate are coming straight to you to personally announce that the King was nearing. You’re nodding sagely.

You knew what that meant - as it always did after a battle - that Ryomen Sukuna was hungry. The more struck-down opponents, the hungrier. Not for anything to consume or to refresh, but rather a starvation much more carnal and deeper within—the primal taste for flesh against flesh.

You were sitting in perfect poise and your smile hidden as the door to the master bedroom slams! open. The sliding door splinters on one end- and you shiver as you realize that this was going to be one of those nights…he was famished. The King removes his sokutai robes and lets them drop to the tatami floor with a heave, and then his deep footsteps pad over to you.

“Master.” You start to bow-

“You are aware I have a distaste for when you do that.”

Before you’re peeking up at him with a sly grin. “I’m aware. I just like how it riles you up so much, Kuna.”

His second mouth opens in guffaw.

And Sukuna raises one pink brow, “And I expect you are well-hydrated? For this night shall be long and merciless.”

You smile even wider.

.

.

.

One round.

Two.

Three.

Four—

It was just one round after the other. So many and so often; so many vicious slashes of Sukuna’s hips that already made you lose count- again and again. Your hands cascade down his thoroughly-built front to hold on for dear life. The windows were pulled shut, though you could feel the glowing of daylight behind it. The King was laid back against his oak headboard and helping you straddle his hips - your thighs crushed against the muscular, ridged area of his obliques as his cocks drilled into you twofold.

They were one after the other.

Thrust after thrust.

Stacked on top of one another—the upper length was slightly longer than the bottom one. Numerous inches long. Tufts of dark-pink hair. Getting your inner thighs wet with globs of sweet, sweet cum that dribble out every time he’s pulling out-

And then ramming deeply back in again. Ravenous.

He’s been cumming so many times this night—but he still wasn’t done. He was still throbbing at his heavy balls, no matter how many puddles of sap swashed inside of you. He was still rock-hard and running on his monstrous stamina. 

So many times that you’re swearing you feel your eyes sprinting to the back of your skull-

“Ah ah-” One of his four hands lifts up to cup your gorgeous face…or so you think. Instead, Sukuna’s straightening his hand out and swatting the side of your face- jolting you back to your senses.

You’re whining as you’re pulled back. Nose crinkling in irritation, you’re looking at him: and oh—was it a sight to behold. Sukuna’s incredible muscles were pumped up to be even bigger n’ bulkier as he manhandled you on top of him, sweat dripped from in-between his pink brows, and his second mouth stuck his tongue out and laps at his cursed lips with them. Before moving to yours…

Fervent moans crack at the back of your throat as Sukuna’s tastebuds glide-glide-gliiiiide along the sensitive inner parts of your thighs. Before spreading apart your pussylips and rolling over your clit.

As you’re shattering on top of him - your nth high coursing through you like a tidal wave - he chuckles. Both greedy mouths. “Not givin’ up so soon, are you, brat? Do not be like all those other humans-” He spits it out like acid, “-I’ve had to defeat today.”

“B-but…” Babbling out stupidly. Your tears stream down your cheeks, your bottom lip quivers as his hips accelerate. “But I am, human—”

“With a distinct difference.” He answers.

A few more merciless strokes and you’ve given up all hope of attempting to meet his pace. His plap-plapping cadence. His hips against yours, causing such a searing sting that makes your spine arch into his sweaty body.

Into his cursed mouth that wraps its unbelievable length around one of your thighs and uses it like a lasso- tugs you closer to him. Like a ragdoll.

The very tip of his tastebuds start ticklin’ at your clit once more, and you’re feeling your body droop limply into Sukuna’s toned front. Your chin rests between his plush pectorals; and he reaches two beefy arms behind you to guide your hips. To perk you up n’ down, up n’ down, up n’ down—

And with a third palm, the King shuts your drivelling maw- “Besides your…slobber, you are above the title of just any human.” Those mean lips of his dip down to whisper into your ear, “You’re my human. And I expect you to be my future Queen- the future mother of my children.”

A fourth and final one of his hands comes down to press on your cumflated tummy. Just the slightest pressure enough to make hot, white seed foam out of your pussy- 

“This royal pussy shall have to drink my cum up until we have an heir, yes?”

And you nod- you nod. You’ve spoken on the matter with the King of Curses before - a somewhat surprising occurrence - and both of you knew you wanted this.

Both of you were weakly pushin’ your hips firmly against his to milk out whatever ropey ounces of cum he was giving. He was flooding your insides. More and more; orgasms crashing into one another—Sukuna cums deeply inside you again with both cocks and it still wasn’t enough for him. “B-but how will we ever…oh, how will we know it’s even taken, Kuna?” Sobbing.

You’re looking down and it’s just an utter mess of creamy cum n’ the glossed-over tufts of his pink hair. Both bulbous tips twitching as they rammed inside you-

Sukuna smiles as he answers, “Oh…good question. Heh.” The inches of his tongue probe between your legs once again, though this time you’re feeling the ridges of his tastebuds enter your stuffed hole instead of merely grazing over your cunt. That prickly sensation glues to the back of your throat. “If my counting is correct, this is about the 21st- ah, round.” Looking down at his muscular stomach for confirmation, his cursed mouth squelches! outward and hums in confirmation. “How about…”

“N-ngh—” And you think if you’re about to cum, your body prevents you from it. Too pushed to its limits, you can only whimper and writhe on top of him-

And as you’re cumming with a mere few twitches, Sukuna’s cum seeps something hot and sticky in the back of your cunt. “Human, milk your King until he can’t cum anymore.”

Until he’s cumming dry?!

Your heart races as you wonder just how many more rounds that would take out of you-

Just how much more stamina does the strongest sorcerer of all time have? How much could he possibly—

It’s as though he was expecting a far stronger fight from his sorcerer counterparts, so any and all pressure was being placed on your cunt now. With Sukuna’s driveling tips so hot n’ ruby-red—plummeting and plummeting between your swollen pussylips in search of drenching your pretty cervix white. He empties out a few more beads of pearlescent white before snickering, “Don’t worry too much for your mortality, brat…”

Your eyes flutter open- and he’s pulling you into a deep kiss. Through that, his reverse cursed energy courses through your own faltering body. 

“I’ll be done in one more round…two…five…” He murmurs, “Perhaps another twenty-one.”

♡ INO TAKUMA - 3.5 rounds.

“N-no, I promise…” Ino’s hiccuping hitches were just so cute- they interrupted him mid-sentence and made him sound as though he was pleading. “I promise- this time- now-”

“Baby, you don’t have to force it.” You’re cooing gently.

And he all but sobs- “No- no, no no…I promise I’m not too- hck! overstimulated to cum.”

Though…you’re getting the sense that he really was.

Your proud, stubborn boyfriend was on his knees and begging—his chocolate-brown eyes wide, his brows furrowed, his bottom lip quivering in just the slightest way that was just the cherry on top. Ino gasps as he fists his cock even harder, dragging his palm down its left-leaning curve; again and again.

And you’re peering down at the man as he grows more and more frustrated with himself- at the fact that no matter how many times he’s jerkin’ his cock off…he still refused to cum.

Or, at least, he did cum - just without the creamy white mess that’d usually accompany it.

Three (and a half) rounds and Ino was cumming dry. Cumming nothing. With his body kneeled before you, with his mouth hoverin’ over your glistening wet pussy—he’d been making out sloppily with your pussy- all slathered in wads of his seed from rounds prior. Clenching and warm. And it was just the hottest thing he’s ever tasted.

So you really couldn’t blame the guy for pulling on his reddened cock as he did so…but that was precisely when disaster had struck.

When Ino had quirked the edge of his thumb underneath his sopping wet slit - just how you do it - and out came…absolutely nothing. Absolutely nothing and he was devastated—

“I-I don’t understand.” He’s babbling to himself. His gaze flickers between his angry cock and his even angrier hand- not smeared with cum. “I don’t understand, I always…”

Softly placing a hand on his slim shoulder, “Baby, I told you s’okay.”

“But it’s not okay…” Ino mutters, tone practically a pout. He averts his face from your gaze, “I never last the rounds and rounds they do in books. And lately I’ve been going to the gym n’ everything more to increase my stamina, too.”

“Is that why you’ve been buying dumbbells for the house, too?” You laugh, “And here I thought you were on some strange decorating spree.”

He juts his lower lip out, “Don’t make fun of me, sweetness…”

“I’m not, I’m not.” You’re insisting. And without further ado, you’re holding either side of Ino’s sunkissed shoulders and helping him get up, standing his lanky body before you. He’s dragged to your every whim and want; as you’re taking him by the hand and guiding him to the bed- before long you’re laying back in it with Ino hoverin’ above you.

Wrapping your feet around his small waist, you let his blushin’ cockhead kiss your pussylips. He shivers. “Oh, fuck.”

“That’s what I’m doing.” Slyly, you’re letting him ease inside you- your poor boyfriend’s seeing stars at the sudden stimulation. His hips coming down to hammer his cock into you—

But you’re stopping him with a leisurely hand at his hips, shaking your head with a smile as he stares down at you with teary eyes. A plea on his lips- “Now now…” You’re cutting that sweet noise of his off with a tut, spreading your thighs apart even further n’ letting his rotund cock maze its way inside - sloooowly. “Take it easy, Taku. Easy—don’t worry, we’re gonna make you cum this round, m’kay?”

He’s nodding jerkily- uncertainly. “Y-you can really do that, pretty?”

“Of course.” Raising one brow, “Don’t trust me?”

And he’s hastening to shake his head. Urgent and alarmed. “What- no.” And as though to prove this point, Ino leaves his hips at a complete standstill. Painfully so - for him. “No, no—I would n-never not trust you, sweetness. I was just-”

“Shhhh, I know, Taku.” Soothing him. You push away a tuft of chestnut-brown hair from his sweaty forehead, “I know…”

Sinking his teeth into his bottom lip, you’re both staring down at the place where you were connected. His throbbing cock. Your glistening wet pussy.

And then you’re breathing out in a tone that’s low and slow—practically hypnotizing him the more of his inches he’s sweepin’ inside. “Just need you to fuck me, baby.”

He’s shuddering as he bottoms out.

Deeeeeep; those inches are red-hot and vein-covered, massaging your walls as he’s sliding in. The crown of his cock is a circumference you could feel at your very throat- and Ino’s head throws back prettily as he’s hittin’ your cervix a few times. “Sh-shit—”

You’re holding back your giggle, “Everything alright, Taku?”

“No- yes.” And after a few more sloppy strokes, he whines. “No…”

Because how could he be? Less than a few minutes ago, he’d been ruttin’ against your calves and cumming dry into his fist. Right now, he was feeling as though the pearly gates of heaven had opened up wiiiiiide between your legs n’ was sucking his soul with every passing second- even the tiniest slurps of your pussy meant his brow was furrowing. 

The tips of his ears growing red, “I-it’s just…I feel like m’gonna cum again.” Ino babbles into your mouth- capturing it in a sinful kiss. “And I think m’gonna cum dry-”

“How’d you know if you haven’t done it yet, hm?” You ask, bouncing your hips up to meet his own. The smack-smack-smacking sounds between you two was all but deafening, “C’mon, baby. Cum inside- hah, fill me up again.”

“Shit- now m’really gonna cum soon…” He’s echoing out desperately. Pelvis rammin’ into yours- and it was already torturous enough for his aching shaft - pistoning deeper and deeper - without your body greedily pushing up into his.

And he feels his heart race as the grin stretches across your face, “Good.” Kissing the soft nape of his neck, it makes his tip ooze out just a little more milky drops of precum. They glue to the pulsating area of your g-spot. “Because I really, really—mmpf.”

And before you know it, your sorcerer boyfriend has reached behind you and clasped- at the discarded ski mask that he was usually known to make.

The soft, fluffy cotton of it glues your mouth shut. 

Muffling your lewd words to the back of your throat - you don’t have a chance to get out whatever it is you wanted to say. Whatever it is you knew would drive him over the edge. 

And yet, Ino Takuma was still completely and utterly ruined as he punctures his ravenous cock between your legs-

Over and over and over.

“Oh- ngh.” The cutest little whimper leaves his throat, and Ino turns his big, tearful eyes towards you. “O-ohhh, please…sweetness, m’really not joking. M’really gonna cum this time.”

“Mmmm—” Nodding fervently.

“I swear m’gonna do it.” Kissing your forehead in apology for the gag- though he could feel just how wet you were getting between your legs. The sheen of your slick soaks his pelvis, his v-line, and the upper parts of his own thighs. Burned slightly red with constant. “I s-swear m’gonna cum.”

“Do it-” You just barely manage out. Before getting cut off- with both the ski mask being pushed deeper into your mouth, and the squeeze of Ino’s slender fingers on your clit. 

Making you see stars-

Toes curling. Back arching. As though a feverish sensation is taking over your body, making your skin perspire and your head throw into the pillows.

And just as your orgasm rages through you, Ino’s does, too.

This time…he’s pumping and pumping his ruddied cock—dragging the luscious curve of it across every single sensitive spot and dip. Those bundles of nerves that he was mapping out. And it’s as if Ino was trying to milk himself - to drag out the wetness of his orgasm if it kills him.

And luckily for him, he doesn’t cum dry. 

Somewhat.

He’s beading out a single drop of seed that gets pushed right to the back of your womb- smeared by the rotund curve of his tip.

And then Ino looks at you with watery, content eyes. “I-I did it, sweetness.”

“That you did, Taku.”

“D’you think I can cum again?”

♡ GOJO SATORU - INFINITY.

“Honey, I’m home~”

Which would have been a completely ordinary greeting from your husband, of course. Which would never have made you think twice before you opened the door for him, of course.

Except…there was one little issue. 

The Gojo Satoru you’re married to was wide-eyed and crazed on your television screen; Mei Mei’s livestream of the Shinjuku Showdown was playing in 4K on your 115-inch TV. And from your standstill in front of the locked door, you could still see your husband’s black t-shirt starting to tear through once he increases his Hollow Purple to 200% and bursts it right in the direction of Ryomen Sukuna—or more like…the Ryomen Sukuna that was inhabiting the body of your honorary son.

But that was semantics. Or so you liked to think to keep yourself sane in here.

It had been Professor Yaga’s idea to keep you home whilst the battle raged on - there was no telling where the King of Curses would go or attack to gain an upper hand on his opponents. Evil never fought fair. And it was here - in the humble…but not-so-humble abode of your’s and Gojo’s penthouse apartment - that he’d cast the strongest veils.

Talismans and protective omens from far and wide. Around the world.

Over the years, Gojo had taken it upon himself to make your house the safest place in the world - a home for his home—you. He knew the burden that came with being loved by The Strongest, and this was the one thing he could do to alleviate it. 

And it was perfect.

But there’d be no home here without your husband. And your stomach twists as you watch the white-haired sorcerer break out in a grin when his compression shirt gets completely torn and his throat nearly slashed.

Sweat glimmers across his defined muscles, and you’re finding it so hard to look away. The battle was reaching a climax- you could tell by the wild look in Gojo’s eyes.

A blur of movements and another explosion of candescent purple- 

And then the door clicks! open.

This can’t be.

Surely, this can’t be.

Gojo was still on-screen.

Gojo was crouching over the King’s chosen vessel and watching as the marked tattoos disappear from what is now - and hopefully forevermore - just…Megumi’s face. He seems to be sleeping peacefully, and the victorious sorcerer on-screen presses two fingers to the poor boy’s pulse.

Brows furrowed in concentration- or concern?

Before a brilliant smile breaks out across Gojo’s face- and he nods to some of the others off-screen. Then you’re seeing the livestream falter on a sudden rush of white coats and stretches, a few of the paramedics reaching for your wounded husband as well—

Before you blink and he disappears. The only evidence of ever existing at the Shinjuku site being the bewildered faces of the doctors- and you.

And the fact that that very same Gojo Satoru was before you know.

Chest heaving. Those cloud-white tufts of his hair were messy - a far cry from his usual updo. 

And his eyes…oh, his eyes were harrowed.

Empty. Unfocused. As though his mind was still in the midst of battle- though his body’s natural instinct was to come to you. And though power still radiated off of him in waves, it’s nothing of the calm river of coldness that normally layered his body. This was a torrential rain—drenching your living room, drenching the entire apartment. 

Pure uninhabited cursed energy; the dam had broken now. The very space he enters drops a few degrees in temperature. 

The very same man you’d kissed goodbye before his battle- now with a simple layer of debris and dust covering him. It left him almost ghost-pale, and you wanted to brush it off as though discarding such an omen - he’d won.

With nothing but a few cuts on his brows and his lip, some already healing across his arms, he’d won. And he was standing right before you.

Unsteady on his feet. 

He slowly raises his eyes to the livestream behind you and comments, “Ah- that’s a little delayed.” And then his gaze drops down to you - finally, finally drops down to you - and he breaks out into a smile.

Brighter than any sun.

Gojo had escaped the arms of death and run straight to you. 

.

.

.

“Mmmm-mmpfg—” The blindfold muffles your mouth perfectly - which should be ironic, considering that all Gojo was thinking about during that damn battle was hearing your voice. At least one last time.

One last time.

And perhaps then, he could pass…peacefully. 

But he hadn’t; for who could be stupid enough to underestimate Gojo Satoru? Especially not Gojo Satoru himself. And so here he was: with his hot blindfold gift-wrapping your mouth, and his cock drivelling into you like he was a machine—

In the lewdest doggy position possible; and you only wanted more.

Unable to vocalize, you’re fisting at the sheets- then behind at Gojo’s toned body. Clawing at those rippling obliques of his to try and draw him even further forwards. “M-more…mmmpfore.”

Forwards and forwards.

Even deeper in. 

The sudden change in angle makes Gojo’s puckered tip kiss up at your g-spot - even harder than before. And by now you’ve memorized the exact length n’ circumference of him—the exact measurements that were swabbin’ aside your wettened walls and tumbling into every spot you loved so much.

He knew every single one. Every single one.

And he was welcoming himself back- he was making sure you’d never forget him again and again and again—

Gojo’s long since lost track of time- and he doesn’t care. Hours could have passed, days could have passed - but the only thing that really mattered to him was finally having his hands on you—and his cock glued to the back of your pussy. 

It was almost concerning how many times he’d stuffed your greedy orifice full - and yet, still kept on cumming. Cumming so long and hot inside you. 

“Oh…mmm.” Moans muffled. Lashes flickering shut. And your hamstrings ache with fatigue he couldn’t feel because of his training - the man had just fought history’s strongest sorcerer, for heaven’s sake. 

And yet, Gojo wasn’t feeling the slightest bit of lethargy as he loops one forearm underneath your hips and scoops your droopin’ hips back up. Plastering them against his own. Sweat and slick sizzles between your clashing bodies—and Gojo’s voice cracks just a little as he asks. “More…?” Breathless. Higher than usual. Your husband’s eyes were wide and piercing- begging you for an answer.

His red-hot tip was just so ready to explode, and that syrupy white cum was already beginning to drivel out. To smear. To stuff inside. “T-tell me what you want, sweetheart.” He gusts his breath down your spine; absolutely scorching. “Is it more—?”

“It’s more- it’s more-” Sometimes, you wonder if he could read minds. And at the state that Gojo was in right now - you wouldn’t be surprised. Just barely, you’re managing to utter coherent words through those merciless restraints, and oh, how he loved watching you gagging on his blindfold.

Filthy.

Tears flooding your gorgeous eyes. Your spittle cascading down in two streams- either side of your mouth.

Hot cum spills between your legs, and you’re still begging for more.

Hah…Gojo can’t help but plant a loving peck on the side of your messy face. Humming, “Then m’gonna give you more.”

“Yes—” Nodding, you plant your hands on the patch of mattress before you. Attempting to haul yourself up just a lil’ so that you could at least try and match his ramming pace-

“Nuh uh, sweetheart.” Had this been anyone but Gojo, then you would’ve found that smug tone of his oh-so-irritating. Just then, Gojo’s leaning his hefty weight over and pinning you down even further onto the mattress—rubbin’ his blossomed cockhead across every inch of your cunt.

You’re getting cut off mid-gasp.

You’re fucking collapsing. And Gojo’s just colliding into you from behind.

Tangled up into such a mess; he’s drunkenly buckling on top of you and crashin’ and crashin’ his hips into you from above. Nose-deep into the crook of your neck. Mouth parted with constant sensual grooooans—“Wh-whatever my wife wants…” He’s easily massaging your g-spot back and forth a few times, and then pulling all the way out with a resounding pop! “-your husband- The Strongest is gonna get it for you.”

“Yes- yes, Toru…”

“M’serious.” He says in a jagged tone. “You wanted more?” The sudden confrontation of his words make you startle- and you’re giving him a quick nod. To which Gojo runs his buzzing fingertips between the sopping crevice of your folds, “Then m’gonna give you more. Hah, careful not to squeeze too tight.”

At that exact moment, you feel the air…stiffen around the two of you.

It was the same sort of tension you’d felt when Gojo had first entered the apartment: the presence of the world’s most powerful cursed energy. It coiled around your bodies and set your skin alight- before focusing on one particular spot—

Shockwaves run up your spine. And your husband reaches down to pat your stuffed pussy- “Unlimited void.”

You freeze. “M-mmpmf…?” You’ve already talked about such uses of Gojo’s powers with him before - you just didn’t expect it now—but you sure as hell weren’t complaining. 

It seems as though Gojo’s cursed energy was coursing through every axiom of him and supercharging it - he didn’t control it. You didn’t know if he could. It was seeping from his body into yours, and turning your slick channel into…that. Whatever it was. Something he could reel his hips back from and rut n’ rut and rut - without it ever getting stuffed too full.

Instantly - and because of the overuse of his powers - Gojo’s feeling his warm tip dribbles out a few more ropes of cum.

And it’s almost like a…challenge at this point: just to see whether he could properly fill that gaping hole of yours. Gojo’s catching his pretty rose-pink lip between his teeth when he gazes down between those tremblin’ legs, “Fuck- see?” Voice growing more ragged by the second, “See—?”

Nodding and nodding. 

“Th-this pussy wanted more, and n-now she’ll never get full. Now she’s flooded with me right down to the womb-” Pressing his second palm on top of your stomach. “-and she still wants more. Hungry girl. Now she can take so much more that- hngh.” Getting cut off with a ruinous moan himself - he’s pumping out pearlescent webs once more. Another orgasm. 

“That?” You’re choking out.

Breathed between clenched teeth, “That you’re gonna milk The Strongest dry, sweetheart.”

“O-oh…” A jolt of pleasure runs through your body at the notion- or maybe it was just Gojo’s slender fingers tightly grasping your clit. Those digits of his were coated in so much thrumming cursed energy that it drove you mad—“Is that even possible?” That expensive blindfold finally loosens its restraint ‘round your mouth, the constant jostling to and fro causing it to unravel. 

“Hmmmm?” Jackhammering hips. Interest piqued. Bolts of lightning shooting from the edges of his eyes as he smiles.

Again and again and again, his shaft scours your insides and stirs every sweet spot up. “I just mean-” Making you feel lightheaded. “How many rounds has it- oh, already been? Are we even sure you can cum dry, Toru?”

“Dunno.” He answers, and your jaw drops. 

Just then, you’re sure that he’s hit with another orgasm—and you are, too. 

Yours starts out in-between your legs with a sudden twitch- before suddenly the pleasure’s setting your body alight. Your heartbeat thrums in your ears, and Gojo’s humming softly to himself as he fucks you through it.

As he’s letting a few sloppy draaaags out before gritting his pearly-whites and dropping his head forwards. Deeper into the crook of your neck; Gojo lets out moan after moan as he dribbles out squelchin’ cum for the nth time tonight.

One after the other.

Loooong and luxurious. Those satiny ropes are emptied out into the deepest depths of your channel, and he was so thoroughly overstimulated by the charged euphoria that he sobs-

And a lightbulb bursts in the distance.

“M’not cumming dry yet.” Gojo’s heavy balls twitch once he’s plasterin’ them to the forefront of your pussylips. And you can feel them swelling and throbbing after every trickle- “But we have the whole night for that, don’t we?”

“Night? I think s’been days.” You retort, sneaking a glance at the daylight-shimmered curtains. 

“Ah, semantics~”

♡ HIGURUMA HIROMI - 5 rounds.

“I just don’t understand, angel.” Higuruma leans back in his faux leather-bound chair and sighs, his gold-tipped pen coming to tap between his eyebrows as though searching for some button hidden in there - one that would preferably jumpstart the rest of him into normalcy. He continues, “This Fujiwara case has just made me lose all my stamina.”

Because it’s always a long, hard day in the courtroom.

And Higuruma Hiromi knows that - he’s the best defense lawyer Tokyo ever did see. There’s a reason he graduated at the top of his batch, there’s a reason he started his own law firm at around half the age that most of his colleagues do. 

There’s a reason that Higuruma Hiromi, criminal defense attorney, makes the tension in courtrooms thicken until they’re almost stifling the second he walks through those polished pews.

But this case…

It was the usual- some poor sap blamed for a white-collar crime that he clearly didn’t do. And though Higuruma had half the brain to eye his bosses strangely, the nature of this case also meant that the prosecuting team was the best of the best—being that they knew how to twist their words.

And Higuruma was left haggard after a single session. Not that he didn’t think he stood a chance - he knows he does, he knows that guy’s getting out scot-free after this - but it’s just that…he had to do this for months.

He had to walk into the courtroom and feel his mind becoming more n’ more fossilized by the second- that damn prosecuting team was abhorrent. 

And so here he was.

11:41PM. Cooped up in his office room at home; Higuruma was slumped down at his desk, whilst you stood concerned beside him. As he lets out another prolonged sigh, you’re stepping behind the chair and starting to massaging his firm shoulders - surely knotted to hell and back. 

Higuruma shoots you a grateful smile, “It’s awful. I had to sit there and try not to throw my chair at those prosectors for-”

“Five hours.” You’re finishing his sentence.

He’s gazing up at you lovingly, “And even for lawyers they’re insufferable- and that’s coming from me.”

You’re furrowing your brows in humor, “Hey—you’re only half-insufferable.”

That makes him let out a laugh, “But I’m telling you, angel-” And almost as quickly as it came, it disappears. Higuruma’s pinching the bridge of his handsome nose for the nth time this night, “I’m not at that age just yet, but it seems I must work on my stamina. Today was absolute hell.”

“Five hours, huh?” Even saying it out loud made you feel weary, “Y’know how long that’s about?”

“Hm?” He looks at you, “How long?”

Leaning down to whisper in his ear, “That’s about as long as a…” And even before you’re saying the words, you’re sensing the goosebumps that skitter down Higuruma’s neck and even further down his collar. Just how far…you wonder. “-marathon that we have, hm, Hiromi?”

“Yes…” He breathes out. Long, dark lashes nearly shuttering.

He’s been so caught up with that damn case lately- so caught up, he hasn’t had enough time to spend with you. And just the mere mention of it…of being between those pretty legs n’ fucking you for hours and hours is enough to leave him a little heated.

And Higuruma’s meeting your eyes like two magnets that have finally met- first, his lips are on your neck. Then he’s tugging you onto his lap.

.

.

.

“Yes—” Higuruma hisses out- voice pitched into a tone so utterly unlike him. Something so botched in his words, something so ruined—

He’s been fucking your perfect cunt for hours now, and was showing no signs of stopping.

Your attorney husband has a steadfast hold on your hips; from the luxurious chair you’ve moved onto the edge of his desk. Pressed on your front over the mahogany table, hands clawing out haplessly in front of you, ass archin’ up into his vicious thrusts.

The skin ‘round Higuruma’s pelvis has turned red by this point, and he was hissing between his teeth every time his hips came in contact with yours—smack! 

So hard that you’re flinching just a little bit.

And that makes a few streams of cum dribble out from between your clenched pussylips- the pure-white sheen of it coating your thighs. Higuruma doesn’t let a single sweet ounce of it go to waste before he’s snaking a hand down and thumbin’ off just a few drops.

And then you’re finding it stuffed between your lips- “M-mmmm…” Your tears form a lacquer down your cheeks, “Hiromi, you’re so filthy.”

“You married me for it, didn’t you?” He grins. Head tipping back just a little once you’re clenching your sopping wet walls in confirmation, “F-fuck, ngh—keep doing that. Just a little tighter, sugar.” And if you were in any clearer of a state of mind, then you’d have noticed that his husky tone was cracking—voice breaking at the tail end of his sentence.

Higuruma was feeling his sanity drip away every time he entered your pussy- but so were you.

You moan, “Need more-” 

He pats at your pussy adoringly, feeling the wetness of your slick mixed with his clingy white cum. “More, huh? Sure you can handle it, angel?” Darting a look at the clock, “We’re already on…a few hours. Round five.”

Nodding and nodding. 

And you’re all but keening for more as you feel him edge his ravenous cock away - just a few inches. It honestly wasn’t even a movement that should impact the sheer carnal streeeeetch he was bestowing upon you.

But with your needy senses, you’re turning your head over your shoulder. About to mouth off to your husband about pulling away when you were hungry for him the most when-

When you’re seeing that he’d been reaching for that scrap of fabric thrown over his chair.

A stray discardment in the heat of the moment earlier.

His tie.

Your restraints now.

Because in a split-second, Higuruma loops the jet-black fabric around your dangling wrists. It doesn’t take him long to fasten it and tighten it—testing it just by giving it a little pull- he finds himself grinning as your body’s able to be lifted and moved ‘round just by this.

Perfect.

The semi-coarse cloth was strangely sensual against your skin- almost biting. 

Higuruma himself leans down to give a small nip at your right shoulder, before he’s leaning back and hauling you—inches off the table. Two hands clasped around your wrists, the cold hiss of his wedding ring matching yours, the red, rotund head of his cock swipin’ inwards and making your walls bulge with the size of him. “O-oh, fuuuuuck-”

His dribbling divot navigates straight to the bottom of your pussy. “Yeah- yeahhhhh, you’ve got this.” Higuruma whispers as your orgasm wracks through you - and his own fifth one was nearing ever-closer. “You can take it. You can take me-”

“Should I be concerned about the- ngh, amount of space I have left?” In unison, you’re snapping your head down at the area between your legs. Limp.

“Concerned?” 

Cum was seeping out of you in what looked like bucketloads- in all the physical stamina that Higuruma was determined to prove that he still has. And he sure does - or at least your thoroughly-stuffed pussy seemed to think so - but your husband was still pumping away even harder. 

Rougher.

Splatterin’ patterns of syrupy sap on your skin- where contact was being made constantly. Higuruma laps at the gentle leaking with his thumb once more, “Sugar, this pussy was made to take my cum.”

Manhandling you backwards using the restraint of his tie, and slammin’ a final French kiss into the back of your cervix. You feel him start to twitch—in the way that Higuruma always does before he’s about to coat your walls with a layer of cum. “I-inside…” You whine. “All of it- inside.”

“Mhmmm, your husband has you, angel.” And then he’s holding you close- 

Tip thickening at the very flared edge, the crown of it, he’s pouring out a few glittery ropes of…nothing. Absolutely nothing. Higuruma’s dark eyes shoot open as it sinks in: he was cumming in every way, shape, sensation, and form—except for the absence of cum. The absence of gooey white cum seeping out his shaft- and he’s feeling it. 

But he isn’t drenching your pussy in the way he’s expected to.

And Higuruma seethes- “Angel, I…” Lower lip trembling as he takes in the cum that’d frothed out of you and was now being pushed back, “I-I believe I didn’t-”

“Hiromi, did you cum dry—?” Wonderment seeps into your tone. “I didn’t even know you could do that-”

“I didn’t, either.” There was something akin to…disappointment in his tone. Something akin to sadness, something akin to determination- “I can’t believe I…angel, my stamina is fucked-”

“Baby, you just went five rounds without stopping-”

“And if I don’t cum on the sixth…” That ruby-red tip rubs up against your g-spot, ready to splurge out cum at least this time. 

“Mhmmm?”

“Then I’m not Tokyo’s best lawyer.”

A/N. Something something something milkshakes-

Plagiarism not authorized.

[ariawins]

[pluvial-lake]

Reader who has a real job and actual bills. Reader who prioritizes her own peace over his feelings. Reader who has hobbies that don’t revolve around a man. Reader who actually has a life outside of him. Reader who says “no” and means it. Reader who isn't easily impressed. Reader who’s petty. Reader who has trust issues. Reader who chooses her girls every single time. Reader who has a body count and isn't ashamed of it. Reader who is exhausted by male fragility. Reader who holds grudges. Reader who’s a mess. Reader who’s mentally ill. Reader who makes mistakes. Reader who’s manipulative. Reader who’s selfish. Reader who’s morally gray. Reader who’s awful. Reader who genuinely doesn’t give a fuck.

[amhrosina]

Two is Better Than One

MASTERLIST // JOIN MY TAG LIST // FRATT MASTERLIST

Pairing: Frank Castle x f!Reader x Matt Murdock

Summary: A night out with your two favorite boys ends in tears (down your thigh) when someone tries to embarrass you about your relationship with Frank and Matt.

Tags: Not edited because im lazy, porn with feelings, porn with very little plot, threesome, smutty stuff in a car, body worship, matt lets the devil out, fratt shares you, fratt teasing you and each other, frank gets called a mistress, fingering, p in v, matt talks you through it, dom!matt if you squint, masturbation (male), breeding kink a little if you squint, frank and matt both make confessions, im sure im forgetting some but basically it's all smut

“Boys,” you smiled, eyeing Matt and Frank’s tall figures as they paced around the living room, “You both look great.” 

They were both wearing tuxedos, much to Frank’s dismay. Even Matt looked a little uncomfortable, constantly tugging on the bowtie around his neck, but you figured a tuxedo was a little tighter than the suits he was used to wearing. Your knees wobbled at the sight of both of them so dressed up. Great was an understatement. 

Frank turned first, running his hand over his mouth before placing his hands on his hips. He chuckled, eyeing the dress you’d donned for the occasion. It was a favorite of his, hugging your curves perfectly. Matt loved it too because of the material the dress was made of. Both men thoroughly enjoyed when you wore it. 

“You sure you want to go to this thing?” Frank asked, flustered now that he’d seen you. 

“You don’t?” You questioned, teasing him. 

“I want to take you right back into that bedroom and peel that dress off of you,” he grumbled. 

You kissed Frank on the cheek, playfully rolling your eyes, before turning to Matt, who was trying hard to look comfortable for your sake. You pulled his hand to the fabric, swiping his palm through the skirt. He sighed, chuckling under his breath. 

“You’re torturing us, petal,” he said, clenching the fabric in his fist. “You know what this dress does to us.” 

“I know,” you conceded, unable to hide the grin on your face, “That’s why I wore it.” 

In fact, every aspect of your outfit had been meticulously picked out to drive both men absolutely insane for the entire night. You’d sprayed Matt’s favorite perfume on the spot under your jaw that he loved to nuzzle into. You’d worn a lipstick shade so sinful for Frank that he couldn’t seem to pay attention to anything but your lips every time you put it on. The dress was, coincidentally, one of the only things Frank and Matt seemed to agree on. 

“It’s supposed to be a reward,” you said, squeezing their hands, “for going with me to this gala.” 

“More like punishment,” Frank scoffed, gazing back and forth between your lips and your eyes. 

“I meant what comes afterward,” you murmured, smirking when they both clenched their jaws in response. “The car’s waiting.” 

Matt let out a bated breath, waving you toward the door. Frank rested his hand on Matt’s shoulder, watching the swing of your hips as you led the way. 

“It’s going to be a long night,” he breathed, squeezing Matt in joint-comradery. 

“Behave,” Matt gritted, shrugging Frank off of him. 

You should have known that Frank wouldn’t behave. Matt had placed himself as far away from you as he could in the car, preferring awkward small talk with the driver over torturing himself with the smell of your perfume. He was already dizzy with desire, and the last thing he wanted to do was mess up your pretty makeup before the gala. 

Frank, however, didn’t seem to have that qualm. As soon as the internal car lights dimmed in the back seat, his hand was massaging the skin peeking through the slit on your dress. It began as an innocent, soothing touch, but quickly escalated into something far more heated. The further into Manhattan that you got, the higher his fingers circled on your thigh. His warm breath skittered across your exposed shoulder, leaving a trail of goosebumps in its wake. 

You tried to focus on the driver’s words as he explained the optimal route with Matt, but Frank’s fingers were sinfully stealing every bit of your attention. When your legs finally uncrossed, allowing him to access your wet folds, Frank greedily slid his fingers into you, slowly pumping them in and out as quietly as possible. Matt looked pained, grasping the car door handle with white knuckles. 

Frank noticed this too – probably planned for this as soon as Matt had chosen the front seat instead of the back – and whispered in your ear, “Do you think Matt’s okay up there? I bet he’s wishing he’d chosen the back seat now.” 

The driver couldn’t hear Frank, but Matt certainly could. You felt bad for Matt, but only marginally. He’d get his revenge later, and besides, you were enjoying watching him squirm as much as Frank was. You couldn’t help the soft moan that left your lips when Frank’s thumb began circling your clit. 

“Ma’am,” the driver said, keeping his eyes peeled to the traffic in front of him, “Is he okay?” 

The driver flicked his thumb over to Matt, who was hunched over with his hands clasped behind his neck. Frank had paused his motion, glancing at Matt’s crumpled figure before smirking and continuing, likely sending Matt into a frenzy. 

“He’s fine!” You managed to squeak out, trying your hardest to keep your voice even while Frank made a mess of you beneath the folds of your dress. “He’s a little worn out from work. Right, Matty?” 

A non-committal grunt came from Matt. Frank couldn’t stop the chuckle from escaping his throat as you dug your nails into his tux, trying not to yelp in the quiet car. Frank was dangling you dangerously close to the edge, sparking more and more heat in your core as his thumb continued to circle your clit. You let out a shaky breath, slightly arching into Frank’s touch.  

When the car rounded the corner and he saw the entrance to the gala, Frank pressed his thumb down hard, pumping two fingers in and out of you with new fervor, hoping to elicit at least one orgasm from you before your attention was whisked away for the evening. You bit your lip, hoping you’d be able to stay quiet when your core finally erupted. 

“C’mon, baby,” Frank breathed, “Just give me one and I’ll be able to make it through the night.” 

The pleasure so clear in his rasp is what did you in. Heat overwhelmed your senses as you came all over his hand. A cry crawled up your throat, muffled by the sound of Matt coughing loudly. 

The car abruptly stopped. Glancing out the window, you realized you had arrived at the gala. Unfortunately for all three of you, it was the last place you wanted to be. Frank was back on his side of the car, subtly wiping his hand on the handkerchief embroidered with your initials on it. He shot you a wink before stepping out of the car and hustling to Matt’s door. 

Matt clambered out of the car, taking a deep breath when he could finally stand upright. A scowl marked his face as he murmured something to Frank, too quiet for you to hear. Frank smirked, closing the door. Matt was the one who opened your door, holding his hand out for support as you stood. 

You smoothed the creases of your dress out, wiping away any signs of your indecent activities with Frank. 

“Shall we?” You murmured, taking Frank and Matt’s arms on either side of you. 

“Lead the way, petal,” Matt said, clenching his jaw when Frank chuckled again. 

“What did he say to you?” You asked, confused at Frank’s behavior. 

“I’m sure you don’t want to know,” Matt assured you, huffing a breath. “It’s your night, honey. We’re just here as eye candy.” 

Eye candy, indeed. 

As soon as you stepped through the door, you were whisked away by potential clients. Matt had given your hand three squeezes before letting you go, a reminder that they were here if you needed them. You talked for hours, jumping from conversation to conversation as the night went on. Occasionally, Frank or Matt would bring you a new drink, kissing you on the temple before exiting the conversation again. 

This is how they always were at these events. They never wanted to overshadow your moments, so instead, they’d linger behind you, never overstepping unless you asked them too. It was how they preferred it, honestly. Matt was happy to schmooze if you asked, but he liked listening to you speak about the things you had passion for. Frank was less enthused to interact with people, but he stayed nearby, always footsteps away in case you needed him. It was all rather flattering. 

Everything was going so well that you couldn’t believe you’d almost made it through a gala without any incidents when someone, inevitably, messed it up for you. You were grateful it was Matt who happened to be the one to hear it. 

“I’m a bit confused. Which one is yours?” A British lady whose name you didn’t bother remembering asked. 

“I’m sorry?” You said, polite smile on your face. 

“That man over there, who I thought was your husband brought you a drink earlier and kissed you,” she said, nodding to Frank. “Now this man appears with a drink and does the same! You have two men doting on you? Rather odd, don’t you think?” 

Matt, who had turned to leave you again, froze. His palm pressed against your lower back, a support you didn’t know you needed until right at that moment. 

“I don’t see how that’s any of your business.” You cleared your throat, turning with Matt to leave when she spoke up again. 

“Do they share you? Is that it? What an odd thing you youngsters are into. I could never cheat on my husband so openly like that.” 

Frank had read the uncomfortable look on your face and began inching his way across the room. Matt cleared his throat, waiting for a signal from you to step in. While according to the New York City courts you were legally married to Matt, that wasn’t something that ever affected the relationship between the three of you. Frank was, for all intents and purposes, dead according to most people. The three of you wore wedding bands, and that’s what mattered to you. Most people had enough decorum to keep their observations to themselves. 

“I’m not cheating on my husband. I love both of them and that’s what works for us,” you scoffed, unable to bite your tongue any longer. 

Frank had arrived, and with him came a wave of whispers from the crowd that had formed nearby. He donned his ‘Punisher’ face, glaring at the lady as she continued to speak. 

“Where I come from, kissing other men who are not your husband is considered cheating.”  

She clicked her tongue at you, disappointedly shaking her head. You tried to fight it, but tears welled in your eyes. Anger pulsed beneath your skin, red hot. It wasn’t a fair or accurate representation of your relationship, and the fact that she had so publicly confronted you about it made the itch to punch her in the face that much more prevalent. 

Matt was ahead of you though, and he’d already wrapped his arm around your waist and led you away from the growing crowd, nearly growling at anyone who looked in your direction. 

“Don’t let them see you cry, baby,” he said, leading you toward the closest exit. 

You blinked back tears, turning to make sure Frank was coming too. He was, as usual, a few steps behind you, glaring at anyone who dared look at him too long. It didn’t scare you, but it certainly wasn’t something the rest of the guests were used to seeing. They shied away from him as he moved through the crowd, like prey running from a predator. 

When the three of you made it outside, away from the eyes of prying guests, you finally let the tears show themselves. Both men seethed with anger as Matt gently wiped the tears away with the matching handkerchief to Frank’s. 

“She doesn’t know us,” he said, kissing the top of your head. “She doesn’t get to make you sad on your big night. Don’t let her take this away from you.” 

You sniffled, trying to blink back more tears before saying, “My makeup is ruined. I want to go home.” 

“You look beautiful, baby. Even more so when you’ve got mascara running down your cheeks.” Frank swooped in, pulling you against his chest as you laughed at his bad attempt at a joke. 

“I still want to go,” you said, shaking your head. “I’m tired of these people. I want to cuddle with my husband and mistress. At the same time.” 

Frank scoffed, laughing. “I am not a mistress!” 

Matt let out a guffaw, followed by an unbecoming snort, which dissolved you into a puddle of giggles.  

The air felt lighter as the three of you walked to the car. This time, Matt shuffled into the backseat before anyone could suggest otherwise. The driver nodded politely as you crawled in next to Matt, followed by Frank. It was a large car, but the two men you’d situated yourself between were quite broad, so you remained relatively squished for the entire car ride. Matt and Frank each had a hand placed on your knees, stroking their thumbs in soothing patterns. You nearly fell asleep on Frank’s shoulder on the way home, but perked up when the car pulled up outside of the home the three of you shared. 

Matt tipped the driver and thanked him while Frank unlocked the door, and when the door finally shut behind you, you let out a deep, exhausted breath. The world was a little cruel, and you felt so much safer within the walls of your home, especially with Frank and Matt. 

“Are you feeling better, sweetheart?” Matt asked from behind you. 

“Much better. Why?” 

You spun around to look at Matt, expecting him to be a few feet away. Instead, he had moved much closer to you, hands in his pockets; the picture of innocence. He was on you before you could ask him what he was up to. The breath whooshed out of you as he slammed his lips to yours in a hungry, heated kiss. 

Frank chuckled from somewhere nearby, clearly expecting this. Matt ran his hands down your body, squeezing the fabric of your dress where it cinched at your waist. When he pulled away, a whine sounded in your throat. 

“I’ve been waiting to do that all night,” Matt panted, pressing his fingers into your hips. “Your perfume drives me up a wall. Did you know that?”  

He interrupted before you could respond. “I know you do. You both love teasing me.” 

Frank’s laugh echoed around the room. 

“Poor baby Matty,” he said, smile clear in his voice. “Are you throwing a tantrum because I didn’t share?” 

Matt smirked, tugging you impossibly closer to him as he growled, “My turn, sweetheart.” 

Matt was unwavering in his desire for you and Frank. On the rare occasions that he let the devil out in front of you, he was relentless in his pursuit for as many orgasms as he could pull from you. He was unabashedly greedy, unwilling to give Frank exactly what he wanted, and Frank enjoyed it too because it was the only time Matt allowed you both to see his true nature. It felt like Matt’s finally revealing his truth, safe in the four walls of his home, and you reaped all the benefits of it. 

Matt was slowly torturing you by sliding in and out of your cunt at such a slow pace that you felt like crying. You panted into the sheets beneath you, arching your back even more as he ran a hand down your quivering figure. Frank propped himself up on his elbow beside you, stroking your cheek as you begged Matt to go faster. 

“Matty,” Frank chided, clicking his tongue, “Don’t you think she’s been good for us?” 

“Very good,” Matt grunted, thrusting into you before slowly gliding himself almost all the way out. He thrusted into you again, chuckling when you whined beneath him. 

“Matty, please,” you begged, clenching around him. “Please go faster. Please.” 

“She asked so nicely, Red,” Frank teased, wiping away a stray tear on your face. “Let her have what she wants.” 

“I’m sure you’d love that, Frank,” Matt snapped, but a gentle caress on your back told you he was close to breaking. 

Frank, who had begun stroking himself while he watched Matt fuck you into the mattress, grunted as Matt finally began pounding into you. You whined as Matt pulled you off your hands and against his toned abdomen. He wrapped a calloused hand around your throat, squeezing slightly as he wound you tighter and tighter. 

Matt’s hand inched up your throat, taking hold of your jaw and forcing you to watch Frank, who was shaking with desire. He stroked himself, intense gaze on you and Matt. 

“See what you do to us, petal?” Matt asked, voice raspy in your ear. “His heartrate skyrockets every time you make that sexy little noise. He’s so close to coming and he hasn’t even touched you since your little show in the car earlier.” 

Frank’s low rasp echoed directly in your core as he said, “You think it’s just her that does this to me, Red?” 

Matt paused briefly, jaw ticking, before he tightened his grasp on your jaw. 

“Want to know a secret, honey?” 

Frank’s jaw tightened as he brought himself even closer to ecstasy. You whined as Matt nuzzled his nose into your neck, inhaling your perfume deeply. His thrusts stuttered, and suddenly he was coming deep inside of you. He gasped as he filled you, and Frank watched in awe as it began dripping down your thighs. Finally, Matt revealed what had been on his mind all night. 

“I thought about killing that woman for making you cry earlier, but the thought of taking you home and fucking you silly sounded better . You-,” he panted, running his fingers up your torso until he cupped your breast, “This kept the devil inside tonight. Not God. Not Frank. You.” 

Stars flecked your vision as another orgasm took you in a sweeping heat from your core to your head. Frank grunted as he came too, coating his hand and stomach with spurts of hot cum. 

“There you go baby,” Matt murmured, kissing your cheek. “So perfect for us, honey. Look at the mess Frank made watching you come all over me, baby.” 

“Asshole,” Frank murmured, wiping himself up with a towel. 

You were far from being able to function. Your forehead was coated with sweat and your heart pounded in your chest. A light-headed haze had taken hold of your body, but Matt was a patient man. He held you against him, slowly thrusting his come into you, reminding you how perfect you were for them. Frank watched you too, in awe of the way your breasts shook with every deep breath you took. 

When you finally sagged forward, Matt laid you down gently, pressing a kiss to the top of your spine before pulling out. While Matt cleaned up the mess he’d made of you, Frank took the opportunity to lie with you, cradling and kissing your face. Matt crawled next to the two of you, placing his arm far enough that he could hold you and Frank. He let out an exhausted sigh, mirrored by you and Frank. 

“You two always get me into trouble,” Matt mumbled, reeling the Devil in with a single sentence. The rasp in his voice was gone, replaced by the practical lawyer-like tone that you adored. 

“I didn’t do anything except defend you two at the gala!” You exclaimed. 

“He was mainly talking to me,” Frank said, chuckling. “I may or may not have told him how amazing you tasted before you got out of the car earlier.” 

“Is that all you said?” You arched an eyebrow at him. 

“No,” Matt said, kissing your shoulder. “But we needn’t bring that cruel language into the sanctity of our home.” 

You giggled, closing your eyes. The warmth radiating off of both men was cozy enough to send a wave of sleepiness over your body. Before you fully slipped away, you felt Frank muss Matt’s messy hair. 

“Next time,” Frank whispered to Matt, “You get to be the mistress.” 

Tag List:

@fxlsealarm@kiwiharrykiwi@telepathay@itwasthereaminuteago@dumb-fawkin-bitch@carolinaxvz@wistericals@lucienofthelakes@zomtart@agirlwithmanyloves@myguiltypleasures21@alexxavicry@hallecarey1@km-ffluv@lilyevans1@22carolina08@aynsleywalker@queenofthenoobs@ostricx@horrorflix@charmed-asylum@xleiaorgana@blackwidownat2814

@minervadashwood@messymissy@mylifeispainandiloveit@fightmilk@spikedhe4rt@fictional-hooman@babyslyth@legocity2@quackson03@certifiedhunter@dumb-fawkin-bitch@thatgirljayy@scoliobean@evyiione@day-dreaming-goddess@ginnysculture@ryebreadsworld@laaundromat@niki-is-a-thing@kelp-dreaming@ladymercury8@joalslibrary@pascalispet@feelmyskinonyourskin@splendiferous-bitch@hellskitchenswhore@alexaplayldr

[wifeydbby]

I love movies, but lately, a part of me hates them. Not all of them, just some of them.

The ones where the plot is based on someone being a loner, and eventually they find a group of friends who care for them. They team up, save the universe, and all is right in the world.

I hate it because I can’t relate. I can’t relate to having a friend group or even a single close friend who swoops in and saves the day when I’m drowning.

Friendship is a foreign concept to me.

I don’t have anyone. Typically, if I don’t constantly keep up with someone, if I don’t message them first, they would never reach out to me again. I am a co-worker who’s never thought about, the classmate who’s never invited, the daughter who’s never loved, and the wife who’s never understood.

Just… someone who barely exists.

Sometimes I take a little pride in my loneliness. There are days when I’m shopping alone, and I see a group of girls giggling over a TikTok that popped up on their timeline. I think to myself that I carry this burden so others don’t have to feel it.

The feeling of being the last thought in someone’s mind while they occupy every thought of yours. Knowing that no matter how you look or dress, people aren’t drawn to you enough to make a connection. That no amount of kindness will generate people who care for you—who look out for you…

That this is all there is, and there never will be anything more.

Yet, I still watch them because the moments when it hurts, when the character feels it the deepest, are the parts I relate to the most.

Maybe one day I’ll get my happy ending.

Or.

Maybe not.

[cherryysunshine]

In Plain Sight

Pairing: Wally West/F!Reader

Word Count: 8.9k

Rating: Mature

Warnings: sexual references, implied sexual content, kissing, protective mentors, interrupted dates, mild superhero violence, Hal Jordan and Barry Allen being catastrophically oblivious

Summary: Wally and Hal’s Lantern mentee finally stop flirting long enough to start dating.

Unfortunately, their first week as a couple keeps being interrupted by Hal and Barry, who can recognize an alien invasion from several galaxies away, but apparently cannot recognize a date occurring directly in front of them.

Author’s Note: written for this ask

it took me a bit to figure out the plot for this because i didn’t want to recycle the previous Lantern!Reader fics haha

The restaurant had candles on the tables. They were artificial candles, with plastic flames that wavered above tiny batteries, but Wally had still spent several minutes evaluating them after the hostess led you to the booth.

“Too romantic?” he asked.

“You brought me to a restaurant.”

“That was the plan.”

“At night.”

“Most restaurants remain open after sunset.”

“And you made a reservation.”

“I can leave and come back without one.”

“You’re wearing a button-down shirt.”

Wally’s hands immediately moved toward the collar. “Is that bad?”

You caught his wrist before he could undo the top button. “Wally.”

He stopped. For someone capable of moving faster than sound, he had spent the entire evening behaving as though every decision required careful deliberation. He had arrived at your door three minutes early, then admitted that he had spent the previous twenty circling the block because appearing half an hour early would have seemed overeager. He had complimented you, forgotten what he intended to say next, and walked directly into the edge of your doorframe on the way out.

It was endearing. It was also becoming slightly painful to watch.

“This is a date,” you said.

“I know.”

“You asked me on a date.”

“I remember that part.”

“I said yes.”

“One of the greatest moments of my life.”

“Then stop looking for reasons I might not want to be here.”

Wally’s expression softened. His wrist turned inside your grip until his fingers could slide between yours. “I’m not looking for an escape route,” he said. “I’m making sure I don’t ruin this.”

“You survived asking me out.”

“Barely.”

“You asked while we were fighting an enormous telepathic starfish.”

“It seemed like a good time.”

“It had you pinned beneath a bus.”

“I thought I might die.”

“You knew Barry was two blocks away.”

“I thought I might be mildly injured.”

“And that gave you perspective?”

“The bus was very heavy.”

“You can lift a car.”

“Not emotionally.”

You laughed, and some of the tension left his shoulders. His thumb moved over your knuckles beneath the edge of the table.

The two of you had known each other for years. You had fought beside each other, patched each other up, shared meals at impossible hours, and spent enough time flirting that several members of the Justice League had begun placing bets. None of that had prepared either of you for the strange intimacy of sitting across from each other without an emergency waiting nearby.

You had seen Wally in torn uniforms, borrowed clothes, formalwear, and once a pair of green pajama pants covered in cartoon turtles. The sight of him in a blue shirt with the sleeves rolled carefully to his elbows should not have made you this nervous.

It did.

Every familiar part of him felt subtly altered by the knowledge that he had chosen his clothes while thinking about you. He had stood in front of a mirror, considered whether the color suited him, and wondered what you would think when you opened the door.

You had done the same.

“You look good,” you told him.

“I told you you looked good when I picked you up.”

“You told me I looked ‘really—wow—just, yeah.’”

“I was overwhelmed.”

“I gathered that.”

“You look beautiful,” he said, more steadily this time. “You always do. Tonight is just making it difficult to pretend I have any dignity.”

Your ring warmed against your finger, responding to the involuntary spike in your pulse.

Wally glanced at it. “Is it going to report that to Hal?”

“My ring does not report my heart rate to Hal.”

“Has anyone confirmed that?”

“I have access to its communication logs.”

“You’re avoiding the question.”

The hostess approached with menus, saving you from having to answer. Wally reluctantly released your hand, and you spent several minutes deciding what to order while he tried to estimate how much food he could consume without alarming the kitchen.

The restaurant had been his choice. It sat halfway between Central City and Keystone, tucked into a quiet neighborhood far from the places your friends usually visited. Wally had insisted the location was not because he wanted to hide the date.

He had simply wanted the first one to belong to the two of you.

You understood. Hal had never been subtle about his interest in your personal life. He did not believe he was intrusive, mostly because he considered asking direct questions an act of emotional maturity. Barry was gentler, but his concern for Wally had the determined persistence of someone who could search an entire city in seconds.

Once they learned about the relationship, there would be questions, warnings, jokes, and possibly an unnecessary discussion about professionalism. You wanted one uninterrupted dinner before all of that began.

Wally lowered his menu. “Can I ask something?”

“Is this a trap?”

“Probably not. How long did you know you wanted me to ask you out?”

You considered pretending not to understand, but Wally knew you too well. “A while.”

“That isn’t a measurement.”

“You flirt with everyone. Captain Cold gave you flowers.”

“They were frozen.”

“You kept them for six months.”

“They lasted for six months.”

Wally stared at you.

You smiled. “I hoped.”

His fingers returned to yours across the table. “That’s almost worse.”

“Why?”

“Because I could’ve asked sooner.”

“You could have.”

“I was trying to be respectful.”

“You were being a coward.”

“I was being a respectful coward.”

“You told Green Arrow you planned to marry me.”

“That was a joke.”

“You asked whether I’d prefer a spring or fall ceremony and requested his mailing address for the invitation.”

“That was when he stopped laughing.”

Wally brought your hand toward his mouth and pressed a kiss to your knuckles. “Next time, tell me when I’m being an idiot.”

“I have been telling you that for years.”

“I thought it was affectionate.”

“It was.”

The front door opened. Cold air swept briefly through the restaurant.

Wally looked toward the entrance, then went completely still. You followed his gaze.

Hal Jordan stood beside the hostess station with Barry Allen. Neither man had noticed you yet. Hal was saying something that required broad gestures and a deeply offended expression. At the same time, Barry removed his coat and listened with the patient resignation of someone who had heard the beginning of the story several times already.

“No,” Wally whispered.

Your ring translated the movement of his lips even though you could hear him perfectly well.

“We can leave,” you said.

“Our food is coming.”

“You haven’t ordered.”

“I’ve emotionally committed to the pasta.”

“You can order pasta somewhere else.”

“Not before they see us.”

Hal turned, and his face brightened immediately. “There you are!”

Wally closed his eyes.

Barry spotted him a second later. “Wally?”

Hal crossed the restaurant before you could construct an escape route through the rear wall. Barry followed at a normal pace, which somehow made the situation worse. Hal reached your table and looked between you and Wally with no apparent recognition of what he had interrupted.

“What are you doing out here?” he asked.

“Having dinner,” you said.

“Great. So are we.”

Wally’s grip tightened around his menu. “What a coincidence.”

The hostess approached with two additional menus.

Wally’s eyes widened. “We’re actually—”

“Perfect,” Hal said, taking one. “We can sit together.”

Barry hesitated. His gaze moved over the table, taking in the candle, Wally’s shirt, and the two menus arranged across from each other in a booth that had clearly been set for two.

Hope rose briefly inside you.

Then Barry smiled. “It has been a while since the four of us had dinner.”

Hope died.

Hal slid into the booth beside you. Barry sat beside Wally, trapping both of you against the wall.

Wally stared across the table at you. You pressed your lips together. His expression became one of silent apology.

Hal opened the menu. “Did you two just finish a mission?”

“No,” you said.

“Training?”

“No.”

“League business?”

Wally leaned forward. “We had plans.”

“Obviously,” Hal said. “You’re both here.”

Barry studied the menu. “I think he means they planned to meet.”

Hal nodded. “Team bonding. Good idea.”

You felt Wally’s shoe touch yours beneath the table. It stayed there.

Dinner became something other than the evening you had planned. Hal and Barry were entertaining together, but every time Wally tried to direct the conversation toward you, one of them interrupted with a story or a question about the Flash Museum.

Wally kept his knee against yours beneath the table. When your food arrived, you ordered the meal he had recommended.

Hal noticed. “He made you order that, didn’t he?”

Wally’s foot hooked around your ankle. “She trusts my judgment.”

Hal looked at you. “Why?”

“I have several character flaws.”

The waiter eventually brought your dessert with four spoons because Hal had announced that everyone would share. Wally watched him take the first bite of the part covered in chocolate.

“You okay?” you asked.

“I’m developing a new understanding of rage.”

“There’s plenty left,” Hal said.

“That isn’t the point.”

You slid the plate toward Wally. He took a bite and passed the spoon directly to you. Neither mentor reacted.

Wally wiped a trace of chocolate from the corner of your mouth with his thumb. You caught his hand and kissed the pad of it.

Hal glanced over. “You have something on your hand.”

Wally stared at him.

“It’s chocolate,” you explained.

“Right.” Hal returned to arguing with Barry about whether a destroyed aircraft still qualified as a business expense.

Wally lowered his voice. “Are they doing this on purpose?”

“I don’t think they’re capable of coordinating this well.”

“We could tell them.”

“We could.”

He glanced between them. “Do you want to?”

You watched Hal attempt to describe an aircraft as an emotional-support vehicle.

“Not tonight.”

Wally’s smile was immediate. “Good.”

When dinner ended, Hal and Barry remained near the entrance to continue arguing over who would pay. Wally guided you outside with a hand at the small of your back.

The night was cold, the street quiet beneath the glow of old-fashioned lamps. You barely made it beyond the restaurant window before Wally turned toward you.

“I’m sorry,” Wally said when you were outside.

“For what?”

“I promised you a date. Hal ate your dessert, Barry explained municipal bonds for eleven minutes, and I didn’t get to ask you anything.”

“You already know nearly everything about me.”

“Not everything. That’s the point.”

“What did you want to ask?”

Wally considered it. “Did you really say yes because you thought I was about to die?”

“No.”

“Was it the bus?”

“I said yes because I’ve wanted you to ask for a long time.”

His breath caught.

“You could’ve told me.”

“I thought the flirting was sufficiently clear.”

“You flirt with everyone.”

“I only wanted you to ask.”

His hand settled against your waist. “I was working up to it.”

“For three years?”

“I wanted to be certain.”

“Were you?”

“No,” he admitted. “But the starfish was very persuasive.”

You laughed softly.

Wally looked down at your mouth. The joking edge faded from his expression, replaced by something warmer and more uncertain.

“Can I kiss you?”

“We’ve kissed before.”

“Not like this.”

During missions, Wally had kissed your forehead in relief. He had pressed quick, joking kisses to your cheek after races and once kissed the back of your hand while pretending to introduce himself at a diplomatic reception.

This was different.

You curled your fingers into the front of his shirt and pulled him closer.

Wally kissed you slowly. You had expected enthusiasm. You had expected the barely contained energy that followed him into every room and made stillness seem unnatural. Instead, he cupped the side of your face and took his time, his mouth moving carefully against yours as though he wanted to learn the exact shape of the moment.

Your ring emitted a quiet alert.

Wally drew back an inch. “What was that?”

“Elevated heart rate.”

“Yours?”

“No.”

“Liar.”

His smile returned. His thumb brushed your cheek before he kissed you again, a little less carefully now that he knew you wanted him to. The hand at your waist drew you closer until the cold no longer reached the space between your bodies.

You could feel his heart beating beneath your palm. Fast, even for him.

The restaurant door opened behind him.

“Wally,” Barry called. “Do you need a ride?”

Wally’s forehead dropped against yours. You closed your eyes.

“I’m going to run into the Speed Force and never return.”

“You say that as though he couldn’t follow you.”

“He’d need to catch me first.”

Barry waited near the curb beside Hal, both of them looking entirely innocent.

Wally raised his head. “I can get home myself!”

“I know,” Barry replied. “I was being polite.”

“Stop!”

Hal opened the passenger door. “Do you want us to drop her off?”

You lifted your ring hand, and green light surrounded you.

“I can fly.”

“Right,” Hal said. “See you tomorrow.”

Wally watched them climb into Barry’s car. “They looked directly at us.” 

“Apparently that wasn’t enough.” 

He sighed. “Next date, no mentors.”

“Agreed.”

He kissed you once more before either man could return.

The following morning, you met Hal in an aircraft hangar outside Coast City. He was leaning over the open engine compartment of an experimental jet, though the ring glowing on his hand had constructed three separate tools to do the actual work. His jacket lay over the nearest crate, and music played loudly enough that he did not hear you enter.

You waited until he had spent another few seconds pretending to understand the internal mechanics. “You know the ring could fix the entire engine.”

Hal struck his head on the raised panel, and the construct holding a wrench vanished. “I knew you were there.”

“Of course.”

“You’re late.”

“I’m four minutes early.”

“I expected you ten minutes ago.”

“That would make me six minutes late by a completely imaginary schedule.”

Hal straightened and studied you. You resisted the urge to touch your mouth. Wally’s kisses had left no visible evidence, but the memory of them had followed you into the morning and made it considerably harder to arrange your expression into something neutral. Hal’s eyes narrowed. “You look different.”

Your shoulders tensed despite yourself. “Different how?”

“Happy.”

“That is deeply offensive.”

“I didn’t say you’re usually miserable. You’re usually less obvious.”

He turned back toward the engine as though he hadn’t said anything alarming. “What happened?” he asked.

“Nothing.”

“Was it the restaurant?”

You nearly dropped the equipment case in your hand.

Hal glanced over. “Barry said you liked your food. Wally seemed strange.”

“He is strange.”

“Stranger than usual.”

You opened the equipment case and began checking its contents to avoid looking at him. “Maybe he didn’t appreciate having his evening interrupted.”

“We had dinner.”

“You joined our dinner.”

“You were already there.”

“That is what joining means.”

Hal leaned against the aircraft. “Was it supposed to be private?”

“Yes.”

His expression became thoughtful. At last, you thought.

“Were you discussing League business?”

“No.”

“Lantern business?”

“No.”

“Something personal?”

“Yes.”

Hal nodded slowly. “He wanted advice.”

You stared at him. “You think Wally arranged a private dinner with me because he wanted advice?”

“Barry said he’s been trying to make some decisions.”

“About his retirement account?”

Hal’s eyebrows rose. “How did you know?”

“Barry explained municipal bonds for eleven minutes.”

“He likes talking about financial planning.”

“I noticed.”

Hal handed you the diagnostic scanner. “Wally probably wanted your perspective. You’re close. You balance each other out.”

“We do.”

“He needs someone who can tell him when he’s being stupid.”

“I have extensive experience.”

“And you need someone who can get you out of your own head.”

You paused. Hal’s attention remained on the engine, but his voice had lost its teasing edge. “You think I spend too much time in my head?”

“I think you spend too much time deciding what you should feel before letting yourself feel anything.”

You closed the equipment case. “That was almost insightful.”

“I’m insightful all the time. People find it intimidating.”

“People find you something.”

He grinned.

You moved beside him and handed him the diagnostic scanner.

“Do you think Wally is irresponsible?” you asked. The question left your mouth before you decided to ask it.

Hal glanced at you. “Sometimes.”

“With people?”

His expression sharpened. “Why?”

“No reason.”

“That’s never true.”

You should have changed the subject. Instead, you looked toward the aircraft. “Everyone thinks he’s joking all the time. That doesn’t mean he isn’t serious.”

“No.” Hal studied your face. “It doesn’t.”

“Barry worries about him.”

“Wally’s family.”

“So you understand.”

Hal rested the scanner against the edge of the engine compartment. “Understand what?”

You considered telling him. The first date had already been interrupted. The secret did not matter. You were not hiding anything shameful, and Hal’s reaction could not be worse than the elaborate interrogation you had imagined.

Then his ring produced an alert. Hal looked toward the glowing display. “Sinestro sighting,” he said.

You felt the moment close. “Where?”

“False alarm.” He dismissed the message. “Someone tagged a yellow food truck.”

“Common mistake.”

“People think they’re funny.”

“They are.”

“They’re not.”

He returned to the aircraft as though the conversation had ended. You exhaled slowly.

Perhaps Wally was right. A sign might be necessary.

That afternoon, Wally found Barry in the forensic laboratory and spent six minutes hovering in the doorway before Barry looked up from his microscope.

“Are you waiting for me to ask about dinner?” Barry said.

“Maybe.”

“You seemed happy.”

“I was, until you interrupted. I was on a date.”

“At the restaurant?”

“Yes. With—”

A technician entered carrying a file box. By the time Barry finished answering his questions, Captain Singh needed him downstairs.

“You understood what I said, right?” Wally asked.

“That you had a date.”

“With—”

Barry’s phone began ringing. He answered it and disappeared down the hallway.

Three minutes later, Wally was back at the museum.

Barry: Sorry we interrupted. Hope it went well.

Wally: It did. I’m seeing her again Wednesday.

Barry: That’s great. Who is she?

Wally set the phone facedown on his desk and considered disowning himself. He didn’t know how to make it more obvious.

On Wednesday, you and Wally went to an arcade. It was not a conventional second date, which was exactly why you liked it. The building occupied two floors of an old department store, packed with retro cabinets, racing simulators, pinball machines, and a miniature golf course illuminated by blue and purple lights.

Wally arrived in a red sweater and announced that he had imposed rules on himself. “No superspeed unless someone is in danger,” he said.

“You’re worried I’ll accuse you of cheating?”

“You should always accuse me of cheating. It makes victory more satisfying.”

“You haven’t won anything.”

“I won the first date.”

“Hal and Barry joined us.”

“You still kissed me.”

“Afterward.”

“Victory.”

Wally lost at air hockey within four minutes because he kept watching you instead of the puck.

“You distracted me,” he said after the second defeat.

“I stood here.”

“Menacingly.”

The rest of the arcade became a competition that Wally insisted was not a competition whenever he lost. You defeated him at racing, dancing, and a cooperative zombie game. He won at basketball and celebrated as though scouts were watching.

At the claw machine, he won a stuffed turtle after you commented that it resembled the ones on his pajama pants. “You remember those?” he asked.

“You wore them in the Watchtower.”

“I thought everyone was asleep.”

“Batman was awake.”

“Batman is always awake.”

“He took a picture.”

Wally stopped. “That’s a lie.”

“He said it was evidence of poor judgment.”

“I need to break into the Batcomputer.”

“You’ll have to explain why you’re searching for photographs of yourself in pajamas.”

“I’ll blame you.”

He handed you the turtle.

“Are you trying to win my affection through carnival prizes?” you asked.

“I thought I already had it.”

“You do.”

His smile softened. “Good.”

At the miniature golf course, you used a construct to adjust the angle of the club.

Wally objected immediately. “You made it wider.”

“The club is still within regulation size.”

“It changed shape.”

“To compensate for the slope.”

“That’s cheating.”

“I thought accusations made victory more satisfying.”

“Again, only when I win.”

“You keep changing the rules.”

“I’m adapting.”

“To losing?”

“To adversity.”

He caught you around the waist as you stepped away, pulling you backward against his chest. You laughed and nearly dropped the glowing plastic club.

“Retract the accusation,” he demanded.

“You cheated at skee-ball.”

“I used hand-eye coordination.”

“You threw eight balls before the first one landed.”

“No superspeed.”

“You left afterimages.”

“Natural charisma.”

You turned inside his arms. “You’re a terrible loser.”

“I’m an excellent loser. I’m giving you a memorable experience.”

His arms stayed around your waist.

The miniature golf course continued behind you, but the nearest group remained several holes away. Music from the arcade softened beneath the artificial sound of running water. Blue light caught in Wally’s hair and traced the amused curve of his mouth.

He looked happy. Not the broad, animated happiness he carried into crowded rooms, but something quieter. Something that appeared whenever he forgot to make a performance of it.

You lifted a hand to his face.

“You’re staring,” he said.

“I’m allowed.”

“Good. I was hoping that was part of the relationship package.”

“We haven’t discussed the terms.”

“Unlimited staring. Shared desserts, except when Hal is present. Minimum three kisses per date.”

“Minimum?”

“I’m open to negotiation.”

You kissed him once.

His arms tightened around you.

You kissed him a second time, lingering until his smile disappeared against your mouth. Wally’s hand moved up your back, drawing you closer as the plastic club slipped from your fingers and landed quietly on the carpet.

The third kiss never landed.

A blur swept through the course, sending the hanging decorations into frantic motion. Barry stopped beside the miniature windmill.

“Wally.”

Wally’s eyes remained closed. “No.”

Barry blinked. “No?”

“No to whatever is happening.”

“There’s a robbery three blocks from here.”

“You can handle a robbery.”

“I already did.”

“Then why are you here?”

“I saw your lightning.”

Wally opened his eyes. “I wasn’t using superspeed.”

“I saw it earlier.”

“During skee-ball,” you said.

Barry looked at the club on the ground. “Are you training?”

Wally released you and turned around. “Why would we train at an arcade?”

Barry glanced over the course. “Reflexes. Spatial awareness.”

“We’re playing miniature golf.”

“That can help with precision.”

“We’re on a date.”

Someone shouted from the arcade behind Barry. A moment later, an enormous green boxing glove appeared above the machines and struck a fleeing man through a decorative cardboard display.

Hal flew into view. “Got him.”

Wally looked at you. You looked at Wally.

Hal landed beside Barry with the unconscious robber suspended in a construct behind him. “There were two.”

“I told you I had the second one,” Barry said.

Hal noticed you. “What are you doing here?”

Wally’s jaw tightened. “Dating.”

Hal glanced around. “At an arcade?”

“I invited him,” you explained.

“Oh.” Hal nodded. “Good team-building exercise.”

Wally stared at him. “I said date,” he repeated.

Barry looked at you with dawning concern. “Did the robbery interrupt something?”

You and Wally spoke at the same time.

“Yes.”

“No.”

Wally turned toward you. “Why did you say yes?”

“Because it did.”

“I don’t want them to feel bad.”

“They should.”

“We didn’t know,” Barry said.

“You still don’t know,” Wally replied.

Hal placed the unconscious robber inside a green bubble. “We’ll get out of your way.”

Relief appeared on Wally’s face until Hal reached for a spare club.

“You haven’t finished the course. We can finish together.”

Wally made a strangled noise, and you touched his arm before he could answer.

“We were nearly done,” you said. “You can take our place.”

Hal brightened. “Great.”

“We’re leaving,” Wally clarified.

“We’ll send you the scores.”

“I don’t care about the scores.”

“You accused me of cheating eight minutes ago,” you said.

“That was before my evening became cursed.”

Wally returned your club to the rack, took your hand, and led you through the arcade. He moved at ordinary speed despite the tension in his shoulders.

Neither of you spoke until you reached the sidewalk.

“I did say it,” he said.

“You did.”

“They heard the word.”

“It appeared to have no effect.”

Wally looked back at the building. “Do you think Hal was dropped on his head?”

“Several times.”

“What about Barry?”

“Repeated temporal displacement.”

“That explains it.”

Your ring chimed.

Hal: YOU LEFT YOUR TOKENS. WE CAN HOLD THEM FOR NEXT TIME.

“There won’t be a next time,” Wally said.

“You liked the arcade.”

“I love the arcade. I’m never returning to that one.”

You took his hand. “We still have an hour.”

“They’re going to find us.”

“Diner?”

Wally considered it. “Is it far away from them?”

“Probably not.”

“Good enough.”

The two of you ended up at a diner on the outskirts of Keystone, sitting in a corner booth beneath lights that were too bright to be romantic. Wally ordered fries, two burgers, pancakes, a milkshake, and a slice of pie. You ordered coffee and stole his fries.

“This still counts as a date,” he said.

“You lost your minimum-kiss guarantee.”

“I can make it up now.”

He leaned across the table. You pressed two fingers to his forehead and pushed him back into his seat.

“Public decency.”

“We kissed behind a windmill.”

“An intimate windmill.”

You smiled into your coffee.

Wally dipped a fry into his milkshake. “You’re quieter.”

“I’m thinking.”

“That’s always dangerous.”

“You told Barry we were dating.”

“I attempted to.”

“And I almost told Hal.”

Wally’s hand stilled halfway to his mouth. “Almost?”

“He thought you wanted financial advice.”

“That’s worse than Barry.”

“How is that worse?”

“Barry asked who I was dating after I told him I was seeing her again.”

“You didn’t tell me that.”

“I did now.”

“I hate this.”

“You’re the one who waited three years.”

“I was afraid of rejection. They have no excuse.”

You traced one finger around the rim of your cup. “Maybe it doesn’t look different from the outside.”

“What doesn’t?”

“Us.”

Wally studied you.

“We’ve always spent time together,” you continued. “We’ve always flirted. You touch everyone when you talk. I’ve fallen asleep against you during League briefings.”

“You had a concussion.”

“Only one of the times.”

His mouth curved. “Perhaps they don’t notice because nothing has changed.”

“That isn’t true.”

“What has?”

Wally didn’t answer immediately.

The diner hummed around you. Plates clattered behind the counter. A child at the next table insisted that syrup qualified as a beverage. Outside, headlights moved across the windows and disappeared into the night.

Wally reached across the table. He took your hand carefully, as though the gesture itself were an answer. “I’m allowed to want more now,” he said.

The simplicity of it tightened something inside your chest. “You were allowed before.”

“I didn’t know whether you wanted me to.”

“I did.”

“I know.” His thumb moved over your knuckles. “But now I can ask. I can take you somewhere because I want to be alone with you. I can tell you that you look beautiful without pretending I’m joking. I can kiss you because we both decided that’s something we get to do.”

“We could have kissed before.”

“I would’ve assumed it was a near-death situation.”

“You find those romantic.”

“The adrenaline helps.”

You smiled, but the vulnerability remained in his expression. 

Wally looked down at your joined hands. “It feels different to me,” he said. “Even when they interrupt.”

The waitress arrived with his food. Wally consumed one burger while she was still placing the pancakes in front of him, then apologized when she stared at the empty plate. “I’m athletic,” Wally attempted to explain.

She left without another word, and you stole some of his fries.

“It feels different to me too,” you said.

Wally smiled.

The third kiss of the evening occurred outside the diner beneath a flickering sign advertising breakfast all day. It tasted faintly of milkshake and coffee and lasted until your ring reminded you that you had an early patrol the next morning.

Wally drew back with obvious reluctance. “Your ring hates me.”

“It is committed to my schedule.”

“It’s jealous.”

“It doesn’t have emotions.”

“That’s what it wants you to think.”

He pressed one final kiss to your forehead.

“Dinner at your place Friday?” he asked.

“You’re cooking.”

“I’m excellent at cooking.”

“You burn food at superspeed.”

“That was one time.”

“You set off alarms in three cities.”

“They were sensitive.”

You kissed his cheek. “Seven o’clock.”

Wally watched green light surround you. “You’re not flying home alone.”

“I fly through space alone.”

“Space has fewer drivers.”

“You run through traffic.”

“I’m faster than traffic.”

“You’re impossible.”

“You’re dating me.”

The green light lifted you from the sidewalk.

Wally grinned up at you. “Exactly.”

On Thursday, you did not have a date, but that didn’t stop Hal and Barry from interfering.

You were halfway through patrol over Coast City when Hal’s voice entered your comm. “Are you busy?”

“I’m stopping an armed robbery.”

“So moderately.”

“Hal.”

“Finish first.”

The robbers had attempted to escape in a van reinforced with stolen alien metal. You enclosed the vehicle in a construct and held it above the road while the police moved into position beneath it.

“Almost done,” you said.

“Did you know Wally’s seeing someone?”

The construct flickered. The officers below shouted as the van dropped several inches before you caught it again.

“What?”

“Barry mentioned it.”

You lowered the vehicle carefully onto the road before Hal could offer any more destabilizing information. “What exactly did Barry say?”

“That Wally had a date and was seeing her again.”

You waited. Hal waited.

“That’s all?” you asked.

“What else would there be?”

“Did Barry say who?”

“He doesn’t know.”

You closed your eyes. “Interesting.”

“That’s not the word I’d use.”

“What word would you use?”

“Concerning.”

“Why?”

“Wally talks about everything. If he isn’t talking about her, there’s a reason.”

“Perhaps he wants privacy.”

“Wally?”

“People can surprise you.”

Hal became quiet.

You secured the van’s doors with bands of green light and directed the officers toward it.

“What do you think about Wally dating someone?” Hal asked. 

“I think he deserves to be happy.” 

“He is happy.” 

“Happier.”

Hal exhaled. “Do you think he can be serious?”

You looked toward the street below.

The question should not have bothered you. Hal cared about Wally. He had seen him joke through disasters and hide fear beneath movement. He was asking because he wanted to understand, not because he had judged the relationship.

Still, your answer came more sharply than intended. “Yes.”

“I didn’t say he couldn’t.”

“You asked.”

“I asked what you thought.”

“And I answered.”

Hal was silent again. “You’re defensive.”

“I’m flying.”

“That isn’t mutually exclusive.”

Your ring produced another police alert. You accepted it before Hal could continue.

Friday evening, he arrived at your apartment carrying two overstuffed grocery bags and a small bouquet.

“You said you were cooking,” you said.

“I am.”

“That bag is from four different countries.”

“It was on the way.”

“You live in Keystone.”

“Everywhere is on the way.”

He had changed out of his uniform after patrol, though his hair remained damp from a shower taken too quickly. You stood aside to let him enter. He leaned down to kiss you before crossing the threshold, and the simple familiarity of it warmed you more effectively than the glass of wine waiting in the kitchen.

This was your third date in five days. Neither of you mentioned that the first two had ended somewhere other than either of you had planned.

Wally unpacked vegetables, pasta, bread, cheese, and three desserts.

“Are we expecting company?” you asked.

“No. I’m planning for variables.”

“What variables?”

“Appetite, preference, and emotional distress.”

You disabled the buzzer while your ring screened calls. Wally began cooking without superspeed, chopping vegetables while you stirred the sauce. The small kitchen forced you close. You bumped hips whenever he moved between the stove and counter, and he rested his chin on your shoulder whenever he tasted the sauce.

While he was distracted, you stole cheese from the cutting board. “I saw that.”

“You were looking at the stove.”

“I can look at more than one thing.”

You reached for another piece. Wally caught your hand and drew you back against him.

“Am I in trouble?”

“You’re about to be.”

“Promise?”

His breathing changed. Wally turned you carefully, pressing you against the counter.

“You keep looking at me like you’re deciding whether to kiss me,” he murmured.

“I’m deciding whether you’ve earned it.”

“I cooked.”

“Dinner isn’t finished.”

“I bought dessert.”

“You threatened me over cheese.”

“You stole from the chef.”

“You caught me.”

“And now you’re out of chances.”

Wally kissed you instead of apologizing. He lifted you onto the counter and stepped between your knees. The kiss deepened, his hands sliding beneath your shirt as yours threaded into his hair.

“Wally.”

“I like that.”

“My name?”

“The way you say it.”

You touched his face. “This feels strange.”

“Bad strange?”

“No. I’ve wanted this for so long that part of me keeps expecting to wake up.”

The jokes disappeared from his expression. “You wanted this?”

“I told you.”

“You said you wanted me to ask. That could’ve meant you were curious.”

“You think I spent three years hoping you’d ask me out because I was curious?”

“You’re thorough.”

You held his face between your hands. “I wanted you.”

His breath left him.

You kissed him before he could turn the moment into a joke.

Wally responded immediately. His hands slid beneath the hem of your shirt, palms warm against your sides. He kissed you deeply enough that the kitchen, the waiting dinner, and every interruption of the week disappeared.

A sharp knock struck the apartment door. 

Wally stopped. Neither of you moved.

The knock came again.

“Maybe they’ll leave,” you whispered.

“Your lights are on.”

“They don’t know that means I’m home.”

“Hal can see my shoes from space.”

The third knock was followed by Barry’s voice. “We brought food.”

Wally slowly lifted his head.

You looked toward the kitchen counter. “We already have food.”

“I know.”

“Did you invite them?”

“No.”

“Did you tell Barry where you were?”

“No.”

Another voice came through the door.

“We know you’re in there,” Hal called. “Her ring is connected to the network.”

You looked at the ring. It pulsed innocently.

“Traitor,” you muttered.

Wally stepped back so you could climb down. His hair had become disordered beneath your hands, and his mouth was red from kissing. You were certain you looked no more composed.

“You could make a construct of us sitting on the couch,” he suggested.

“They know what your heartbeat sounds like.”

“That is deeply invasive.”

“You run beside Barry.”

“Still.”

Hal knocked again. “The food is getting cold.”

Wally looked toward the stove. “So is ours.”

You turned off the burner before the sauce could burn.

Then you opened the door. Hal stood in the hallway holding a pizza. Barry was beside him with two bags of takeout and an apologetic smile.

“We thought we’d surprise you,” Barry said.

“You succeeded,” you replied.

Hal looked over your shoulder. “Something smells good.”

“Wally was cooking.”

Barry smiled. “That explains why you didn’t answer your phone.”

Wally appeared behind you. “Does it?”

“You were busy.”

“Yes.”

“With dinner,” Hal added.

Wally looked at the ceiling.

You stepped aside because leaving them in the hallway would not make them disappear. Hal entered first, followed by Barry, and both men carried the food directly to your kitchen.

Hal stopped when he saw the table.

Two place settings. Two wineglasses. A vase containing the flowers Wally had brought. The overhead light had been turned off, leaving only the softer lamps along the wall.

At last, you thought.

Understanding had to be inevitable.

Hal looked at the flowers.

Then at Wally. “Are these an apology?”

Wally’s expression emptied. “For what?”

Hal shrugged. “You usually bring food when you break something.”

Barry set the bags on the counter. His gaze landed on Wally’s mouth, then moved to yours. A line appeared between his eyebrows.

You waited.

Barry glanced toward the simmering sauce. “Did you taste the wine?”

Wally turned away and pressed both hands over his face.

Hal opened the pizza box. “We brought options.”

“We already have options,” Wally said through his fingers.

“You can save yours for tomorrow.”

“I don’t want to save it for tomorrow.”

“You eat leftovers.”

“That’s not the point.”

“What is the point?” Hal asked.

Wally lowered his hands. “The point is that I am on a date with your mentee.”

Silence filled the apartment.

Hal looked from Wally to you. “You mean this is a date?”

“I have said that at least four times this week.”

Barry looked at you. “Are you and Wally together?”

“Yes.”

“Since when?”

“Sunday.”

Hal relaxed. Barry did too.

Wally looked offended. “That’s it?”

“What were you expecting?” Barry asked.

“Questions. A lecture. Hal threatening to send me into space.”

“You’re both adults,” Hal said. “Although you started dating five days ago.”

Wally’s expression tightened. “I’m serious about her.”

The humor disappeared from his voice. He looked at you instead of either mentor, and something inside your chest tightened.

Barry’s expression softened. “We know.”

“Then please leave.”

Hal glanced at the food. “We just got here.”

“You interrupted our date.”

“We didn’t know.”

“You know now.”

You touched Wally’s arm before the argument could continue. “It’s fine,” you said.

His gaze searched yours. “Is it?”

You wanted to say yes, but disappointment had settled too heavily inside you. “This wasn’t how I pictured tonight.”

Hal closed the pizza box. Barry picked up the bags.

“We should go,” Barry said.

“You don’t have to.”

“We do.”

Hal paused at the door. “We’re happy for you.”

“Thanks,” Wally said.

“Don’t make me regret that,” Hal added.

“There it is.”

“It was one sentence.”

Barry guided him into the hallway, and the door closed behind them.

Silence returned.

The apartment no longer felt romantic. The pasta had overcooked, the sauce had begun to separate, and the moment in the kitchen had been interrupted and seemed impossible to recover.

Wally stood beside the counter with his hands in his pockets. “I’m sorry,” he said.

“You didn’t invite them.”

“I should’ve asked them to leave sooner.”

“You did ask.”

“After I let them sit down.”

“You were trying not to hurt their feelings.”

“I was trying to make everything easy.” He glanced at the closed door. “I keep doing that.”

You leaned back against the counter. Wally moved toward you, then stopped before coming too close.

“What does that mean?” you asked.

“It means I’m nervous.”

“You don’t seem nervous.”

“I’m hilarious under pressure.”

Despite yourself, you smiled. His answering smile was brief.

“I’ve wanted this for a long time,” he said. “Long enough that I convinced myself I’d be fine if it never happened. We’d keep flirting, you’d keep beating me at races because you cheat, and I’d keep pretending that was enough.”

“I don’t cheat.”

“You fly.”

“You run through the air.”

“That’s different.”

“How?”

“I’m being emotionally vulnerable.”

“You brought up racing.”

“It’s a safe place.”

You reached for his hand.

Wally came closer, his fingers closing around yours.

“When you said yes, I thought I’d finally get to stop worrying,” he continued. “Instead, I found new things to worry about. I don’t want to move too fast. I don’t want to make this feel casual. I don’t want everyone looking at us and deciding they know what this is before we do.”

“I knew the interruptions mattered. I just couldn’t tell whether you were upset because the dates kept going wrong or because you were afraid we were getting this wrong.”

His expression changed. “What?”

“You joke whenever things become difficult. Every time we get close to saying what this is, you turn it into something easier.”

“It matters.”

“I know. I just didn’t know how much.”

“It matters so much that I don’t know what to do with it.”

Wally lifted your hand and pressed it against his chest. His heartbeat raced beneath your palm. It always did. Even at rest, his body carried the restless rhythm of the Speed Force. Tonight, though, there was something unsteady beneath the speed.

“I’m good at the part before,” he said. “The flirting, the jokes, making everything seem like it doesn’t scare me. I don’t know how to do this part.”

“What part?”

“The part where I tell you I’m in love with you and have been for an embarrassing amount of time.”

Your breath stopped. Wally’s eyes widened.

“That wasn’t how I planned to say it.”

“You planned it?”

“I had several versions.”

“How many?”

“Twenty-six.”

“Wally.”

“One involved a beach.”

“You hate sand.”

“I was making a sacrifice.”

You laughed, but your eyes had begun to burn.

His thumb moved over the back of your hand.

“I love you,” he said again, more quietly. “I’m not saying that because we had a bad date or because I think you need to hear it. I’m saying it because it’s true. I wanted our first week to be perfect, and I kept pretending I wasn’t upset every time it wasn’t.”

You moved your free hand to his face. “You should have told me.”

“I know.”

“I would’ve helped you throw Hal out.”

“I know that too.”

“I could have put him in a construct.”

“That’s one of the things I love about you.”

“One of them?”

“You want the full list?”

“Eventually.”

Wally’s smile warmed. “You love that word.”

You drew him down until his forehead rested against yours. “I love you too.”

For once, Wally had no immediate answer. His eyes closed. The breath left him slowly, as though he had been holding it for years.

Then his arms went around you. The embrace was tight enough to lift your heels from the floor. You laughed against his shoulder, and Wally buried his face against your neck.

“You couldn’t have said that before the starfish?” he murmured.

“You seemed busy.”

“I was under a bus.”

“You mentioned that.”

“It was heavy.”

“You’re very brave.”

He set you down without releasing you.

“Can we try again tomorrow?” he asked. “A real date. No League members. No emergency calls unless the planet is actively ending.”

“How will we know?”

“Batman will find us.”

“That’s not reassuring.”

“I’ll plan everything.”

“That is less reassuring.”

Wally kissed your forehead. “Trust me.”

“You bought enough food for fourteen people.”

“I know what I’m doing.”

The following evening, he knocked on your door at seven.

He didn’t vibrate through it or spend twenty minutes circling the block before knocking. He had not crossed several continents for groceries, and the beach remained one of the twenty-six abandoned confessions he had admitted planning.

Wally stood in the hallway holding one flower and a paper bag from the bakery down the street.

“I considered reservations,” he said. “Then I remembered our track record.”

You accepted the flower. “What’s in the bag?”

“Dessert.”

“Planning for emotional distress?”

“Planning for Hal.”

“You think he’s coming?”

“I think he can sense happiness.”

You stepped into the hallway and closed the door behind you. “Where are we going?”

“Nowhere important.”

Wally took your hand. He led you down the stairs rather than carrying you, and the two of you walked three blocks to a small park near the river. The city glowed around you, distant traffic humming beyond the trees. Wally had hidden a blanket beneath one of the benches earlier in the evening, along with a container of takeout from your favorite restaurant.

“You planned a picnic,” you said.

“I can return it.”

“No.”

“Too romantic?”

“Exactly romantic enough.”

You sat beside him beneath the open sky. There were no artificial candles, no miniature golf clubs, and no mentors waiting to join you. Wally left his phone at the bottom of the bag. You muted your ring without disabling its emergency functions.

The conversation came easily. Wally asked the questions he had missed during the first dinner, remembered every answer, and became distracted only when your knee touched his.

“What did you think of me when we first met?” he asked.

“Fast. Loud. You stole my lunch.”

“You weren’t eating it.”

“I left for thirty seconds.”

“That’s a long time.”

“You replaced it with six protein bars that tasted like drywall.”

“They were efficient.”

“You spent the next week trying to make me laugh because I refused to speak to you.”

“I succeeded.”

“You fell down a staircase.”

“I committed to physical comedy.”

“You tripped.”

“That was the commitment.”

Wally leaned back on one hand. “I thought you hated me.”

“I did.”

His smile faltered.

“For two days,” you added. “Then you crossed the Atlantic to bring me noodles.”

“You smiled at me.”

“I was hungry.”

“I’ve been chasing that feeling ever since.”

You rested your hand over his. “You make me smile often.”

“I know. I keep count.”

“That is deeply strange.”

“I was in love.”

“Was?”

Wally shifted closer. “Am.”

“Better.”

After dessert, you lay back on the blanket and watched the clouds move across the stars.

Wally remained beside you without fidgeting.

“Are you uncomfortable?” you asked.

“No.”

“You’ve been still for nearly two minutes.”

“I’m practicing.”

“For what?”

“You.”

You turned your head. Wally was already looking at you.

“I don’t need you to slow down all the time,” you said.

“I know.”

“You don’t have to become someone else because we’re dating.”

“I know that too.” His fingers found yours between you. “I just don’t want to rush past this.”

Your chest tightened.

“I was worried about that,” you admitted.

“About me rushing?”

“About you becoming bored.”

Wally’s expression sharpened. “With you?”

“With stillness.”

He rolled onto his side. “Those aren’t the same thing.”

“They can be.”

“Not with you.”

You looked toward the stars again. Wally’s fingers moved lightly over yours.

“People think I need constant movement,” he said. “Sometimes I do. My body feels wrong if I stay still too long. My head gets louder. Everything outside me starts moving too slowly.”

“That sounds uncomfortable.”

“It can be.” He paused. “But you don’t feel slow.”

You turned back toward him.

“You never have. You make everything else quiet enough that I can hear myself think.”

“That doesn’t sound like a compliment.”

“It isn’t always.”

You nudged his leg with yours. Wally smiled.

“I’m serious,” he said. “Being here with you doesn’t feel like waiting. It feels like arriving.”

Your ring warmed as your pulse changed.

Wally glanced toward it. “Still not reporting your heart rate?”

“No.”

“Good. Mine is embarrassing.”

You shifted closer and kissed him. He rolled farther onto his side, one hand settling at your waist. The kiss deepened slowly, without the interruption both of you had begun to expect. Wally’s thumb moved beneath the edge of your shirt, tracing warm circles against your skin.

Your body responded before your ring could announce it. Wally’s mouth curved against yours.

“You’re smiling,” you murmured.

“I’m happy.”

“You’re ruining the mood.”

“I can be serious.”

“You told me you were hilarious under pressure.”

“I contain multitudes.”

He kissed you again, and the joke disappeared between one breath and the next.

By the time you returned to your apartment, the paper bag was empty, the flower had been tucked carefully behind your ear, and Wally’s restraint had begun to fail.

He kissed you against the closed door. Your hands moved beneath his jacket, pushing it from his shoulders. It landed somewhere near the entryway. Wally’s mouth traveled along your jaw as you reached blindly for the lock.

“Tell me if I’m moving too fast,” he said against your skin.

“You’re not.”

“Tell me anyway.”

You pulled him closer. “I will.”

He looked at you long enough to be certain.

Then his mouth returned to yours.

Wally did not rush.

He took you to bed with all the patience he had promised, even when his hands shook, and your name broke apart in his voice.

In the morning, someone knocked on the apartment door. Wally was sprawled partly across you, one arm around your waist and his face pressed into the pillow beside your shoulder. He woke at the second knock.

“No.”

“You don’t know who it is.”

“Yes, I do. Trauma.”

“We brought breakfast,” Barry called through the door.

Wally pulled the blanket over his head. Your ring displayed nine-thirteen, and between the two of you, you remembered promising Hal and Barry breakfast sometime that weekend.

“We did this to ourselves,” Wally said.

Hal knocked again. “We know you’re awake.”

“My ring?” you called.

“Your ring,” Hal agreed.

“I’m trading it for a different one.”

Wally sat up, revealing the marks across his chest and shoulders. He noticed you looking and smiled, winking at you before pulling on sweatpants and going to answer the door without bothering with his shirt. You found it near the foot of the bed and slipped it over your head before following him.

Hal and Barry looked at Wally’s bare chest, then at the shirt you were wearing.

Understanding arrived all at once.

“You slept here,” Barry said.

“Yes.”

His gaze dropped to the marks across Wally’s chest before immediately moving away. “Oh.”

Wally smiled. “There it is.”

Hal set the coffee down with exaggerated precision. “You started dating one week ago.”

“Last Sunday,” you confirmed.

“That is not better.”

“We’re adults,” Wally said.

“I know. I hadn’t considered all the implications.”

“Which implications?”

“Don’t.”

Barry rubbed the bridge of his nose. “We don’t need details.”

“We weren’t offering any.”

Wally took a breakfast sandwich from one of the bags. Hal stared at him. “You can’t stand shirtless in her apartment and eat the food I brought while I’m processing this.”

“I can get a shirt.”

“Not one of hers.”

Wally pointed at the shirt you were wearing. “That one is mine.”

Hal’s expression tightened. “Stop talking.”

Barry sat on the couch. “Are you happy?”

Wally looked at you. “Yes.”

You took Wally’s hand. “Very.”

Some of the tension left both mentors.

“You could have told us sooner,” Hal said.

“We did,” Wally replied. “Repeatedly.”

Barry admitted that he had mistaken the kiss outside the restaurant for an ordinary goodbye. Hal looked even more alarmed when he learned that you had kissed at the arcade too.

“You interrupted,” Wally reminded him.

Barry covered his face.

Wally leaned closer to you. “This is the best morning of my life.”

“You called me agreeing to date you one of the greatest moments of your life.”

“This is second.”

Hal looked between you. “One week.”

“The relationship is new,” Barry said. “They aren’t.”

When Hal asked how long you had been in love with Wally, your answer of three years left Barry staring into his coffee and Hal sinking onto the couch.

“You really didn’t notice anything,” Wally said.

“We were busy,” Hal replied.

His expression sobered. He reminded both of you that being heroes meant frightening each other, disappearing into danger, and coming home injured. You couldn’t make that worse by pretending to be fine when you weren’t.

“We won’t,” you said.

Barry told Wally not to rush because he thought he should already know where the relationship was going. You could keep up with him, but you shouldn’t always have to, and he didn’t need to slow down until he stopped being himself either.

“I know,” Wally said.

“And you don’t have to slow down until you stop being yourself.”

“I know that too.”

You looked between them. “Did you rehearse this?”

“No,” Hal said.

“We’ve made mistakes,” Barry replied.

“Speak for yourself.”

“They’re back to normal,” Wally whispered.

“That was almost useful.”

“It was terrifying.”

Hal and Barry finally stood. Wally invited them back the following week, refusing Hal’s suggestion of tomorrow because he liked you.

Barry guided him toward the door. “Next week is fine.”

At the door, Hal noticed Wally’s jacket, shirt, and shoes scattered around the entryway. “You left all of that here?”

“Yes.”

Hal’s eyes widened. Barry caught his arm and pulled him into the hallway before he could begin another interrogation. “They were alone here all night,” Hal could be heard protesting through the wall.

“Yes, Hal.”

“The ring has soundproofing capabilities.”

“Goodbye.”

Their voices continued through the wall. “Barry, you know what he can do with superspeed.”

“I am not discussing this.”

“He said he wasn’t using it at the arcade.”

“Keep walking.”

Their voices faded. You and Wally looked at each other before dissolving into laughter.

“They’re never going to recover,” he said.

“Hal has endured the destruction of Coast City.”

“This is worse.”

Wally knelt in front of you and rested his hands on your knees. “Do we tell them your ring asked whether I qualified as authorized personnel?”

You covered his mouth. “No details.”

Wally kissed your palm. “Fine.”

“You’re smiling.”

“I’m happy.”

He pulled you from the chair and guided you toward the bedroom.

“We haven’t finished breakfast.”

“We can reheat it.”

“The coffee will get cold.”

“We can reheat that too.”

“Without superspeed?”

Wally stopped at the bedroom door. “I believe the no-superspeed rule only applies to dates.”

“And what is this?”

He drew you against him, his mouth brushing yours. “Breakfast.”

Somewhere in the hallway, Hal shouted Wally’s name.

Wally closed the bedroom door.

credit to @uzmacchiato for the cherry divider and @toxisyddy for the Flash divider ❤️💛

[bbunsflix]

RODEO !

synopsis: blue lock men getting caught having sex with their partners

pairings: sae itoshi × reader, nagi seishiro × reader, rin itoshi × reader, isagi yoichi × reader, hyoma chigiri × reader, meguru bachira × reader

tags: NSFW . minors dni . mostly a crack fic . piv . fem!reader . pure filthy smut . blowjobs/pussyeating . getting caught . etc

w.c. 3.7k

a/n: no comments. anyway, this fic was requested by this ask here! ( @solalol you have the greatest mind ever<3)

Sae Itoshi — caught by shidou

sae had you pinned against the wall, cock buried deep inside you as he fucked you with rough, punishing strokes.

it had been far too long. the second he came home and saw you, he didn't waste a single second on words. he simply shoved your shorts down, freed his aching cock and sank into you in one brutal thrust.

now he was drilling into you hard, hips snapping forward with a steady, merciless rhythm that had your back sliding against the wall with every thrust.

"fuck...sae—" you moaned, legs locked tight around his waist. your nails dug into his shoulders as he drove deeper. "you're so deep...ahh!"

he growled against your neck, teeth scraping your skin. "been waiting weeks for this cunt," hus voice was low, strained with lust. "so fucking wet for me already."

one of his hands gripped your ass tighter, the other braced on the wall as he angled his hips and started hitting that perfect spot with every thrust. your moans grew louder, shameless, echoing in the small bedroom. the wet, filthy sound of his cock sliding in and out of you filled the air.

"gonna cum—sae..."

"then cum," he ordered, voice dark. let me feel you,"

he slammed into you harder, grinding against your clit on every deep thrust. the coil in your stomach snapped without warning. you cried out, walls clenching violently around his thick cock as your orgasm crashed through you. your whole body shook, thighs trembling around him while you moaned his name like a prayer.

sae kept fucking you through it, jaw clenched, eyes burning as he felt you pulsing and gushing around him. he was close, very close—but he was holding back, savoring the way your cunt squeezed him.

that's when suddenly the door swung open without a knock.

"oi, itoshi! you got any—" shidou's voice stopped dead.

ge stood there in the doorway, eyes widening before that wild, predatory grin spread across his face. he took in the scene: you pressed against the wall, legs wrapped around sae, his cock still buried inside your twitching pussy, your face flushed from your recent orgasm.

sae froze mid-thrust, buried to the hilt. the sudden shock of being caught hit sae like a freight train.

"dude shit—!" he grunts through gritted teeth.

his hips jerked once, involuntarily. a groan tore from his throat as he came hard, thick ropes of cum spilling deep inside you while shidou watched shamelessly. sae's face dropped to your neck, biting down hard to muffle the sound as his cock pulsed again and again, emptying everything he had.

you whimpered at the feeling of him filling you up right in front of his roommate.

sae's breathing was ragged against your skin. his cock was still twitching inside you, sensitive and spent, as he slowly lifted his head.

"get the fuck out," he hissed, voice hoarse and dangerous.

shidou only smirked wider, tongue poking at the corner of his mouth. "you sure I cant a piece of that?"

"touch her and I'll kill you," sae said, holding you close to him.

shidou smirked, "fine. i'll just touch you then."

Nagi Seishiro — caught by his bff

nagi was fucking you like he'd die if he stopped. it wasnt his fault really. it'd been six whole months since he last saw you. you've been traveling thanks to being a model and well...he missed you.

he had you lifted completely off the ground, your back pressed tight against his chest as he stood behind you. his strong arms hooked under your knees, spreading your legs wide open in a full nelson hold. every needy thrust drove his long, thick cock deep into your dripping pussy, the wet sounds echoing obscenely in the room.

"fuck...missed you so much," he groaned into your ear, voice rough and desperate—nothing like his usual lazy drawl. his hips snapped up harder, burying himself to the hilt with every stroke. "been thinking about this pussy nonstop...couldn't wait anymore."

you moaned loudly, head falling back against his shoulder as he manhandled you effortlessly. the position left you completely exposed—tits bouncing, cunt stretched wide around his cock, his balls slapping against you with every deep thrust. his grip on your legs was iron tight, lifting you up and down on his length like you weighed nothing.

"nagi—! ahh, too deep—!" you cried out, pleasure bordering on overwhelming.

"mmm..can't help it," he panted, lips brushing your neck as he fucked you harder. "need you...need to feel you cum on me." his voice cracked with raw need, hips losing their rhythm as he chased the feeling of your tight heat.

one of his hands shifted slightly so he could rub fast circles over your swollen clit while still bouncing you on his cock. the combination was lethal.

"i-i..i'm cumming, nagi!" you screamed, body seizing up as your orgasm slammed into you. your cunt clenched violently around his thrusting cock, gushing wetly as waves of pleasure tore through you. your legs shook in his grip, juices dripping down his balls.

"you're squeezing me so tight," nagi whined, voice needy and broken. he kept fucking you through your orgasm, desperate and relentless, his own release building fast.

the door suddenly burst open.

"nagi? i got the new—oh my god."

reo stood frozen in the doorway, eyes wide in pure shock. the scene hit him like a truck: nagi holding you up in a full nelson, your legs spread obscenely wide, cunt stretched around nagi's thick cock, your cum still dripping down his balls, everything completely bare and on full display.

nagi's hips stuttered. the sudden mortifying realization that reo was seeing everything — your dripping cunt, the way his cock was buried inside you, the way you were still twitching from your orgasm—sent him spiraling.

"reo—?!" nagi gasped, voice strained.

he couldn't hold back. with a needy groan, he slammed up into you one last time and came hard. thick, hot ropes of cum flooded your pussy as his cock pulsed violently inside you. his arms trembled slightly as he kept holding your legs up, forcing you to take every last drop while reo watched in stunned silence.

you whimpered at the overwhelming feeling of being filled while completely exposed.

reo's face turned bright red, all the way to his ears. his mouth opened and closed a few times before he finally managed to speak.

"i didn't...fuck, im so sorry!" he slapped a hand over his eyes, clearly flustered beyond belief, but not before you both saw how red his cheeks were. "i should've knocked—i didn't know she came back!"

reo peeked through his fingers for half a second, saw the way nagi cum was leaking out around his cock and immediately covered his eyes again.

"you know what..im leaving! i'mm leaving right now! sorry!" he turned on his heel, nearly tripping over himself as he rushed out and slammed the door shut behind him.

the room fell silent for a moment except for both of you panting.

nagi slowly lowered your legs, but didn't pull out yet. he wrapped his arms around your waist instead, hugging you from behind as he buried his face in your neck, still catching his breath.

"...that was embarrassing," he muttered, though his cock gave a lazy twitch inside you. "but you felt really good when he walked in. did you like being watched?"

you let out a breathless laugh. "you're such a pervert."

he hummed, pressing a soft kiss to your shoulder. "only for you."

Rin Itoshi — caught by his bro

rin had you completely folded underneath him in a ruthless mating press, knees pressed tight to your shoulders as he fucked you with deep, punishing strokes.

his hips snapped forward with brutal precision, driving every thick inch of his cock into your soaked pussy until his heavy balls slapped loudly against your ass. the wet, obscene squelching of your cunt filled the room with every thrust, your juices dripping down your ass and soaking the sheets beneath you.

his arm was locked around the back of your neck in a tight headlock, forcing you to stare up at his intense, flushed face while he railed you. sweat glistened on his forehead, his eyes burning with possessive hunger as he watched every flicker of pleasure and desperation cross your face.

"fuck—you're squeezing me so tight," he growled, voice low and mean, punctuating his words with a particularly vicious grind of his hips that made his cockhead bully against your cervix. "this sloppy cunt is mine. say it."

"it's all yours—rin..nghhh! 'm yours!" you moaned, voice breaking as he hammered that perfect spot inside you over and over. your walls fluttered and clenched greedily around his girth, trying to pull him even deeper.

he smirked darkly, tightening the headlock just enough to make your breath hitch.

"louder. i want everyone to know who you belong to." he pulled back almost all the way, letting just the fat tip stretch your entrance, then slammed back in with a savage thrust that made your tits bounce and your eyes roll back.

you cried out, nails digging into his back as he set a punishing rhythm—long, dragging strokes that made you feel every vein and ridge of his cock, followed by short, rapid punches that left you gasping. "rin—! please—fuck, it's too deep—!"

"too deep?" he laughed, low and cruel, leaning down to bite at your exposed neck. "you were begging for this earlier. now take it like the greedy little slut you are." one of his hands slid down to grip your ass hard, spreading you wider so he could watch his cock disappear inside your puffy, dripping folds.

the lewd sight made him groan, his pace growing even more erratic and forceful.

your body was burning, every nerve singing as he fucked you senseless. the pressure built higher and higher, your thighs trembling violently against his shoulders. you could feel another orgasm coiling tight in your core, even stronger than the last.

"rin—! im gonna cum..! please don't stop—!" you sobbed, tears already pricking at the corners of your eyes.

"then cum," he snarled, crushing his mouth to yours in a messy, dominating kiss before pulling back. "cum on my cock like you were made for it. milk me, baby."

your orgasm hit you like a freight train. your walls clamped down hard around his thick cock as you cried out, gushing wetly all over him while your whole body shook violently in his grasp. tears of pleasure slipped down your cheeks as you came hard, pussy spasming and squirting around him in messy pulses.

right in the middle of your climax, your eyes flew open and locked onto the figure standing in the doorway.

"sae..?" you gasped in horror.

rin froze mid thrust, buried balls deep inside your spasming cunt. his head snapped toward the door, eyes widening in genuine surprise for a split second.

sae stood there with his arms crossed, watching the scene with a cold, slightly disgusted expression.

for a moment, the room was dead silent except for your heavy breathing and the wet sounds of your pussy still fluttering around rin's cock.

then sae spoke, voice flat and unimpressed.

"you both disgust me. at least have some shame."

he turned and left, closing the door behind him with a soft click.

"what the hell..?" rin stayed frozen for another second, still deep inside you, processing what just happened. then his lips curled into a dangerous, mean smirk. he looked back down at your flushed, embarrassed face and tightened the headlock again.

"anyway, where were we?" he asked, voice low and venomous.

without waiting for an answer, he slammed back into you with a brutal thrust, picking up right where he left off, even harder than before.

"cumming on my cock while my brother watched? you're such a fucking whore,” he snarled, pounding you mercilessly into the mattress. "don't worry...ill make sure you remember who you really belong to."

Isagi Yoichi — caught by bachira

isagi's head was thrown back against the couch, mouth open in a silent moan as you knelt between his spread legs. his chest heaved with every shaky breath, the usually confident striker completely undone by the wet heat of your mouth.

this was his first blowjob and it was overwhelming him completely. your lips stretched around his thick cock, sliding slowly up and down while your tongue pressed flat against the underside. your hand stroked the base in perfect rhythm with your mouth, twisting gently on the way up.

his thighs trembled violently on either side of you, fingers digging so hard into the couch cushions that his knuckles turned white.

"ahh—fuck… baby, that feels so good," he panted, voice hoarse and cracking. "i-i can't—nghh!"

you hummed around his length, the vibration making his cock twitch hard against your tongue. you took him deeper, relaxing your throat until the head bumped the back of it. isagi’s hips jerked up instinctively, a broken whimper escaping his throat as saliva dripped down his shaft and over your fingers.

you pulled back slowly, letting your tongue swirl around the sensitive head, teasing the slit where precum was steadily leaking. his cock was flushed dark and glistening, veins pulsing visibly under the wet sheen. you looked up at him through your lashes, loving how wrecked he already looked—flushed cheeks, messy hair, half-lidded eyes glazed with pleasure.

"slow down a little… 'm gonna—" he gasped, trying to warn you, but his words dissolved into another needy moan as you sucked harder, hollowing your cheeks.

you pulled off with a wet pop, a thick string of saliva connecting your swollen lips to his throbbing tip. "you're doing so well, isagi," you purred, voice low and sweet. your hand kept lazily pumping him, thumb brushing over the slick head.

"just relax and let me take care of you, hm? i want to make your first time feel amazing."

isagi nodded frantically, biting his lip as you dove back down. you took him even deeper this time, nose brushing against his trimmed pubic hair as you swallowed around him. his hand flew to your hair, not pushing, just gripping desperately like he needed something to hold onto while you worked him.

"oh shit—yes, just like that," he groaned, the words tumbling out broken and desperate. you bobbed faster, sucking noisily, letting messy slurping sounds fill the room. one of your hands slid up to gently roll his balls, massaging them as your mouth worshipped every inch of his cock.

isagi's moans grew louder, more shameless. his abs clenched visibly with every deep suck, thighs shaking harder as he fought the urge to thrust into your throat.

"you're so fucking good at this… i'm—i’m really close," he warned, voice cracking. his cock throbbed heavily on your tongue, the veins pulsing faster as his orgasm built.

you whined around him in encouragement, doubling your efforts. you took him as deep as you could, throat contracting around him while your hand stroked the rest in tight, twisting motions. isagi's breathing turned ragged, his head tipping back again as broken whimpers and curses spilled from his lips.

his thighs started shaking harder, muscles jumping under your palms. his grip in your hair tightened, hips stuttering as he teetered right on the edge.

"baby—fuck, i'm gonna cum—"

right as isagi’s moans turned into broken, high-pitched whimpers and his cock started pulsing wildly on your tongue, the door to the shared room swung open.

"heya isagi! wanna go—WHOA!"

bachira stood in the doorway, eyes wide as saucers. he took in the full scene: you on your knees with isagi's cock buried in your mouth, isagi's flushed face and messy hair, his pants around his ankles.

isagi's eyes snapped open in panic. "bachira?"

bachira's cheeks instantly turned bright red. his usual energy vanished, replaced by pure flustered embarrassment. he slapped both hands over his mouth.

"oh i didn't see anything... i did...but uhm, sorry!!"

he spun around so fast he nearly tripped over his own feet and bolted out the door, slamming it shut behind him.

the room fell silent for a second.

isagi was still rock hard in your mouth, throbbing desperately. his face was burning crimson with embarrassment, but the sudden shock and adrenaline seemed to push him right to the edge.

"oh god..fuck," his voice broke off into a desperate moan as his hips jerked.

you started again, cutting him off. you sucked him deeper and isagi came instantly with a loud, broken groan. thick spurts of cum flooded your mouth as he trembled and panted through his orgasm, overwhelmed from both the pleasure and the mortifying interruption.

you swallowed everything, gently pulling off with a soft pop and wiping the corner of your mouth with a blush. isagi slumped back on the couch, chest heaving, looking completely dazed.

"...i think we sacred him.." he mumbled, covering his red face with both hands.

you climbed onto his lap and kissed his cheek with a grin.

"at least you finally got your first blowjob."

isagi peeked at you through his fingers, still flushed. "yeah..it was amazing."

Hyoma Chigiri — caught by his sis

chigiri had your thighs spread wide on his bed, his long red hair tickling the insides of your legs as he ate you out like a man starved.

his tongue moved with elegant precision. slow, teasing licks followed by firm, hungry strokes that had you gripping the sheets tightly.

"hyo..that feels so good," you moaned, one hand tangled in his silky hair.

he hummed against your cunt, the vibration making your hips twitch. his hands held your thighs open as he licked deeper, sucking gently on your clit before flicking his tongue over it rapidly. he was a natural—attentive, passionate, and devastatingly good with his mouth.

"you taste so sweet," he murmured, voice slightly husky. he looked up at you with those sharp, beautiful eyes, lips glistening with your arousal. "i could do this for hours.."

he leaned back in, sucking your clit into his mouth while sliding two long fingers inside you, curling them perfectly against your g-spot. your back arched off the bed, moans growing louder and needier.

"hyoo! hah—im so close, please,"

he doubled down, tongue working faster, fingers pumping steadily. your thighs started trembling around his head as the pleasure coiled tighter and tighter.

just as your orgasm was about to crash over you, the door to his bedroom opened.

"hyoma? have you seen my..." chigiri's sister paused mid sentence, eyes widening.

she was holding a towel around her wet hair, clearly fresh out of the shower. "i wanted to borrow your conditioner, but..oh."

you let out a mortified squeak and tried to close your legs, but chigiri's grip kept them open for another second before he finally lifted his head.

his sister's face turned bright red. "i-i didn't know you had someone over, my bad!"

chigiri wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, surprisingly calm despite the situation, though a faint blush dusted his cheeks.

"it's fine..just leave, please?"

his sister nodded quickly, clearly flustered. "right! sorry again! carry on or whatever.."

she rushed out and closed the door behind her.

you covered your face with both hands, dying from embarrassment. "oh my god..your sister just saw you eating me out i wanna die."

chigiri let out a soft chuckle and gently pulled your hands away from your face. his eyes were still dark with lust.

"she'll survive,” he murmured, pressing a kiss to your inner thigh. "let's continue?"

he lowered his head again, tongue sliding back through your folds as if nothing happened. " no dying yet, i still haven't made you cum and 'm not stopping until i do three times."

"hah—hyo!"

Megruru Bachira — caught by rin

bachira had you bent over the desk in his room, pounding into you from behind.

he was in one of his feral moods—fucking you hard and fast, hands gripping your hips tightly. his cock stretched you open perfectly with every deep stroke.

"so tight and warm," he says breathlessly, leaning over your back. "i love how you squeeze me when i go deep like this.."

"meg..ahh! slow down a little!" you moaned, gripping the edge of the desk as he railed you. the desk creaked loudly under the force of his thrusts.

"aw baby, but you feel so good!" he pouts playfully, before suddenly changed angles and started hitting that spot inside you that made stars explode behind your eyes. "i wanna to hear more of those cute sounds..yeah, good girl."

his pace turned relentless, hips snapping against your ass as he fucked you. one of his hands snaked around to rub your clit, making your legs shake.

"gonna cum meg, 'm gonna cum!" you cried out.

"hah—shit, cum for me baby," he groans, thrusting harder.

your orgasm hit hard. you cried out, cun clenching around his cock as pleasure ripped through you. bachira groaned at the feeling, still pounding into you without slowing down, chasing his own high with that signature wild energy.

then the door slammed open.

"what the hell is this noise—?" rin stopped dead in the doorway, eyes widening in pure disgust.

bachira's hips stuttered for a second as he looked over at rin, still buried deep inside your twitching cunt. a big, mischievous grin spread across his flushed face.

"oh rin! wanna join?" he said cheerfully, giving one lazy thrust into you just to make you whimper.

rin's face twisted in horror and annoyance. "ew. you're disgusting. both of you. i can hear you from down the hall."

you buried your face in your arms on the desk, mortified, still full of bachira's cock and dripping from your orgasm.

bachira only grins, clearly unbothered. "we were? aw..my bad,"

"shut up," rin snapped, cheeks slightly red. "lock the damn door next time, idiot."

he turned around sharply and walked out, slamming the door behind him.

the second the door closed, bachira looked down at you. "hm..make more noise for me okay? let them all here."

"ah! meg wait—"

bbunsflix © all rights reserved. no copying or giving my work to ai!

[sweetheartfortoji]

Million Dollar P⭑ssy Nanami x Reader

⟢ Synopsis: Nanami’s a salaryman, and you’re an exotic dancer at a popular nightclub he’s never been to, until one day he’s dragged along by Gojo. Who’s your unknown matchmaker. You shouldn’t even be the same vicinity as each other, you’re worlds apart, or at least you should be. The attraction felt fatal from the moment you first met, desire you can’t resist, it’s like an electric spark, and you’re both finally desperate enough to act on it, after one fine night in Tokyo together.

⟢ Content Warnings: 18+, smut, salaryman!nanami x stripper/exotic dancer!reader, modern au, non-curse au, pwp, mutual attraction, slight rough sex, sex with feelings, d&s dynamics, soft dom!nanami, sub!reader, drinking, fingering, oral (m!receiving), groping, kissing, sexual tension, teasing, unprotected p’nv, overstim, creampie, praise kinks, pet names, slight orgasm edging/delay.

⟢ Word Count: 13k

⟢ Other: This was supposed to be longer but I also didn’t want it too long. crossed posted on ao3

Money.

Money, because that’s what Nanami Kento’s world revolves around, money, money and more money. He wakes up with nothing but the thought of money on his mind; you could never have enough money he thinks. It’s a never ending hassle trying to fit anything else into his daily life. He doesn’t have time for much else, and maybe some part of him doesn’t want to have time for anything else. There’s a point in time where you finally realize you can’t waste valuable time on anything else but working.

He hates it.

The everlasting cycles of: Sleeping, working, eating, sleeping, working, working and working. Over and over again, five days a week. Nanami was able to come to the conclusion years ago that the world revolves around nothing but currency, and it would continue to do so until the end of time.

Money is the root of all evil they say.

So how does a man like Nanami Kento end up blowing less than half of his pay check inside of a nightclub?

That evening maybe even earlier than usual, he got a call while on the clock—from none other than an old colleague, Satoru Gojo—yes. Satoru Gojo, for a couple seconds Nanami watched the phone ring, and contemplated if he should answer or ignore it.

Ring after ring he listened, while typing away on the computer, waiting until the call eventually ended. He sighed out in relief, but much to his dismay not even five seconds had passed before the phone started ringing again.

Buzzing and vibrating against the desk, and eventually once he grew tired of the noise, he stood from his chair and swiped the phone off the desk. Picking it up and bringing it to his ear—all for his just as annoying boss to call out to him.

“Aye—Nanami! Where ya’ going buddy!”

“Washroom.”

The man snickers, and makes a brief comment about Nanami taking a leak. It only seems to irritate the blonde, but he keeps his expression schooled surprisingly well. “Well hurry back, all this money ain’t gonna magically make it’s self!”

Nanami’s already walking out the room, pace moderate as he walks down the hallway towards the bathroom with Gojo on the phone. He’s in no hurry after all, as much as he’d like to get it over with.

“What do you want?”

Satoru’s cheery voice comes through, just as loud as he expects, but with the phone held just inches away from his ear, he saves his eardrums from the damage. “We should hang out soon, aren’t you tired of working alll day?” He expresses with an obnoxious groan on the other line. Nanami hears him shuffling around, and makes a brief effort to consider his question.

“No, I’m tired of you pestering me every single day.” As Nanami walks into the bathroom, the sound of his voice had grown hushed and irritated, only softening to muttering a gruff “excuse me”, as he bumps a man’s shoulder on their way out. Once he’s inside he moves towards the urinal and the door slams shut.

“Aww—no you aren’t!” Satoru singsongs, into the phone. “C’mon I know you’re tired—I can see it in your eyes.”

“You haven’t seen me in two weeks.“ Nanami responds flatly.

“That’s the problem! I should be hanging out with my best bud—“

Nanami sighs and tilts his head towards his shoulder to hold his phone in place. Deft fingers looping into his belt, pulling it loose.

“We aren’t friends, we’re colleagues.” He says with added emphasis.

He hears Satoru’s even more dramatic groan of betrayal while unzipping his pants. “Cut to the chase, I’m still on the clock.”

“We should go to this nightclub tonight, it’s really popular. I’m sure you’ve heard of it, and never mind that but all the ladies are like sexy as—hey wait a second do you re—“

“No.”

Satoru doesn’t even get the chance to get all his words out before he’s being hung up on abruptly. Nanami slips his phone into his back pocket and takes a moment to breathe while he pisses out the ocean of coffee he’s had this morning.

Once he’s done, be begins to wash his hands throughly, lathering with the foamy soap. He dries his hands and slicks the sides of his hair back with his palms. Readjusting his tie and fixing his blazer in the mirror. After, tweaking a couple strands of hair in the front, he walks out quietly.

The hours pass by even slower after, over the last couple hours of his shift he talks to clients. When he’s not talking to clients he’s having a one-sided conversation with his boss, and when he’s not listening to his boss talk too much. He’s listening to the new hires ask a billion questions all at once.

The day he turns in his letter of resignation becomes sooner everyday.

When the clock finally hits six, he pulls himself up and out of his chair without a word. A little over time he thinks silently, but he’s lucky that he was able to finish up the last couple of reports. He shuts down his computer for the day, begrudgingly throws away a couple items of trash scattered around the table. Well aware that they don’t belong to him, but he does so anyway, and lastly fixes his chair in, before finally walking out.

The breeze of the cooling day hits him, the suns setting, casting hues of orange and pink across the darkening night sky. The street-lamps begin to flicker on, and as a couple of pedestrians pass him by. Nanami opens his eyes and just so happens to look across the street where he makes eye contact with a familiar white haired man.

Nanami’s jaw clenches when he hears Gojo call out to him, noticing the casual way the ridiculous long legged man leans against the black car with waving his hand around. He wishes he could disappear. Yet there’s no way his day could get any worse than this.

Some way—some how, Nanami finds himself seated in the back seat of the car faster than he can blink. He’s staring blankly at the diver seats headrest, and he’s never thought about jumping out a moving car before, because he knows the danger, but for some reason that seems to be his only available option right now.

“Ah, don’t worryyy Nanamin you’re gonna have a blast!”

“Don’t call me that.”

“Heh,” Satoru giggles, “If you don’t like it I’ll pay for your tab at the end of the night, since I’m such a great friend.”

Nanami doesn’t even bother looking at him, but he knows the bastards probably grinning ear to ear right now. “I don’t need you to pay for my tab, because I won’t be drinking.”

“Oh? well you’re pretty confident aren’t ya’? I say you’ll drink until you drop!”

“Hey Ijichi, we’ll bet on it, Kay?”

Ijichi glances up at the rearview mirror for a split second before focusing his eyes back on the road. Noticing the seriousness of Nanami’s expression and his obvious annoyance towards Gojo, who’s either blissfully unaware or just uncaring.

Already knowing how Gojo gets, Ijichi doesn’t actually get to decide if he’ll be Satoru’s source of entertainment tonight, because being an acquaintance of him means giving up your right to peace, very unfortunately.

After the continuous fifteen minutes of driving that it took to get from nanami’s work place to the night club. The car eventually comes to a stop. Ijichi parallel parks at the front of the nightclub, voice slightly timid when he speaks up once looking outside. Taking note of the long line of people wrapped around the building.

“The lines pretty long, are we sure we want to wait—how about I just take you both home, and we pick this up on another day—“

Satoru slaps the top of Ijichis shoulder and the man flinches and lets out a pathetic whimper in response. “Hey, don’t be such a party pooper, hm?” He leans away with a cheeky smirk, and Nanami rubs the bridge of his nose as he continues.

“I know the bouncer, we won’t even have to pay an entry fee—“

“That’ll be 40.”

“Oh? Really that’s not bad—“

“Per person, obviously.”

Satoru’s expression twitches, he’s not broke by any means, but seeing the smug expression on this man’s face was ridiculously annoying.

Seeing Gojo reach for his wallet the scarred corner of the bouncers mouth twitches into a grin that’s hard to ignore. With a line of people already wrapped around the building. He knows and Gojo knows that he’ll just pay, especially after using his good looks to sway the women, and the men to let him cut in line. After his rudeness.

“This is bullshit, why do we have to pay forty and everyone else gets to pay—what twenty?” Satoru complains, while whipping out three 40’s.

“Whats your name, huh? So I can report you.”

“Toji,” he looks at the bills when Gojo slaps them into his hand, he eyes them like he’s making sure they aren’t fake in the most absurd way imaginable. Satoru can feel his jaw clench at the audacity. “I still need to see some ID.”

“ID? I come here like every week—“

Nanami nearly deadpans, but instead of commenting he uses his hand to cover his mouth, fingers gripping his face as he’s forced to watch the exchange of ego in front of him.

“Shows what kinda man you are.” Toji says bluntly, holding out his hand to receive said ID. Begrudgingly Satoru shows him his ID, and Toji examines it with a very keen eye, before giving it back with an aggressive eye roll.

Nudging his head towards the door and stepping to the side. Satoru walks past, but not without giving him a glare while pushing inside the club. Toji looks at both Nanami and Ijichi but doesn’t bother asking for an id.

They’re not sure if they should be offended or not.

“I thought you said you knew the bouncer?” Nanami finally asks, and while the three of them walk into the club. The music, the smell of perfume mixing with weed hits Nanami immediately. He nearly recoils, even with his glasses his eyes squint in response to the different color flashing lights, before finally adjusting. There’s people, a sea of people actually, crowded around the dance floor, drinking and laughing almost as loud as the music.

Three geometrical shaped stages, three poles, two different women dressed in colorful skimpy bikinis, and tall heels on the right and left pole. Leaving the center pole empty.

It catches his attention, the way they preform tricks, one spins with her legs parted, the other flips herself upside on the pole.

Nanami has to force his expression into place, he adjusts his glasses. Clears his throat and follows behind Gojo to the less—but still crowded area of the room. The bar. While continuing to take a look around he notices that there’s an upper floor. People sharing tables, sharing drinks and whispering secrets over a game of cards.

He drops his eyes back to the floor.

“Hey, Suguru! So you’re on bar duty tonight?” Satoru grins, leaning against the bar counter. Even with Suguru’s back facing him, he knows it’s him by the length and health of the dark, inky strands of hair cascading down his back.

“Oh, Satoru?” He turns his body, flashing a grin of pearly whites, he moves a little closer to talk while shaking a drink up, with the decorated glass already placed in front of him he strains and begins to pour.

“You want the regular right, virgin mimosa?” He asks Gojo, to which the white haired man nods just as he expects.

“I see we have company, ijichi and Nanami. It’s good to see you both.” Suguru gives a polite smile.

Nanami turns his head just enough to look at him, “Good to see you also.”

“Same here.” Nods ijicji with a clearly nervous smile, because just out of the corner of his eye he can see multiple women dancing on poles with their loose tops, and never mind the ones walking around in their tall heels with the sight of their beautiful hips dips and stretch marks.

He gulps, closes his eyes and mutters something like a prayer.

“So what can I get you both?” Suguru asks, passing the glass over to shoko—who’s been standing there on the side of ijichi the entire time. Without him realizing of course, otherwise nothing else would explain the sudden flustered look on his face.

“Thanks, Suguru.” Shoko’s glossed lips form a smirk, eyes low, tinted red the slightest bit.

“I’ll have a whiskey, neat.” Nanami says, looking past ijichi and his stunned eyes as they finds shoko’s.

“Got it—anything for you ijichi?” Suguru places down a short glass, and turns to grab the bottle. Walking back over and looking up at ijichi just as Shoko mentions something about talking and sitting in a booth. He and Satoru watch them both walk off.

“Well there’s that,” Satoru comments about the both of them slyly. “I thought you said you weren’t gonna be drinking, Nanami?” He adds finally with a teasing lilt.

“I suppose I can make this outing worth my while.“

Satoru makes a sound, something that sounds close to what would have been called a victory giggle when Nanami finally sips from his glass. “Add a round of shots to that Suguru, we might be having ourselves a party!”

“To your tab right?”

“Yeah.” He answers.

Nanami hears him reply distinctly, with his glass held in his hand. He keeps his back to the bars counter, hearing the sound of people ordering drinks, drops of ice into glass cups. The smell of lemon and lime and salt rims. He hears the music bleed into his ears, some genre he’s not familiar with. He watches a sea of bodies move together like waves to the sound of the music, and of course he notices the women that eye him just as much.

Because, Nanami is not by any means dressed for the type of setting he’s currently at, he’s got on a dark brown pair of dress shoes, grey slacks, that navy blue button up with the sleeves rolled past his forearms, showing off the silver watch he always wears. He clutches his cup a little tighter, the veins pulsing gently on the top of his hand following the thick vein going up the inside of his wrist.

He’s even wearing that spotted tie that’s been on rotation for weeks already, but no one else has to know that.

At least he had half the mind to leave his suit jacket inside the car. Some where in the back of the club he can spot shoko and ijichi sitting together. Not that he’s worried about the man at all, he’s sure he can handle himself.

“Nanami there’s someone I want you to meet.”

“What?”

Nanami finally comes back to the present and turns his head towards Satoru who’s sipping from his mimosa with a cute twirly straw. While his other hand houses a couple shots, he stands up straight.

“It’s seven, isn’t it?” Satoru inquires with a head tilt. Nanami almost hopes that it’s time to go, because he absolutely needs to be in bed by ten.

Scratch that, it’s Friday isn’t? There goes a weekend wasted. He lifts his wrist to take a glance at his watch.

“Yeah, but why are you asking me that.“

Satoru just grins, says something to Suguru. Who’s clearly too focused on making drinks to comment about him leaving already. Nanami follows behind Satoru, weaving between the pairs of bodies crowding the dance floor.

Nanami’s eyes blink a little wider behind his green and silver glasses, just as a pink haired, tatted DJ starts talking into a microphone over the low thrum of music.

“I can only guess why some of you are all here tonight—yeah because I definitely see some familiar faces,” The Dj eyes the crowd, and the closer Nanami gets to the stage the more dollar bills he sees thrown around. The two women that were on the stage prior begin to walk off.

“Gojo, you freak—anyways here’s everyone’s favorite dancer, show something appreciation by throwing her that fuckin’money!” He shouts into the microphone, Nanami has to stop himself from commenting on the ridiculousness of his statement.

Satoru and Nanami finally sit down at a table, a little too close to the stage for Nanami's liking, but he doesn’t say anything.

“I’m guessing you know the DJ as well?”

Satoru leans his head towards Nanami without looking at him, eyes stuck to the center stage, the only one that’s currently glowing a multitude of different colors. He keeps his ears opened for nothing but the music when it bumps back up.

“Yeah, Sukuna he’s a piece of shit for calling me out like that, huh?”

Nanami makes a small humming sound, almost of mere acknowledgement, but ends up whispering under his breath that he agrees with Sukuna. Seconds after he finds his eyes moving towards the stage as a woman walks out from behind a velvet curtain.

The musics loud, but suddenly not loud enough even as the base thrums through his veins. He can hear the sound of her heels hitting the stage, tall glittery and glimmering beneath the different color party lights. He realizes that he shouldn’t be able to hear the sound of her heels over the music..

“Who’s that?” Nanami mutters, low but just enough for Satoru to hear and glance over at him with just his eyes.

“It’s who I want you to meet.” He has to fight a grin when he hears the way Nanami clears his throat before picking up his glass. Satoru turns his eyes away to focus on the show.

Nanami’s eyes follow every step you take, every swing of your hips, a gentle feline like sway. The smile you hold because it’s imbedded in your nature. He watches your hands wrap around the pole, you start with slow measured steps around it. Arms reaching higher as you lift your feet from the floor, being the way he is. Nanami can easily recognize the strength in your core, you’d probably been doing this for years now.

You make brief eye contact with him while performing, and he feels it somewhere deep in the center of his core. You spin faster to gain enough momentum to wrap your legs around the pole, using that and one hand to hold yourself up, while the other you use to wander your chest. Nanami brings his drink to his lips. Immediately choking on the contents inside as you tease a glimpse at your breasts before wandering below your navel.

He watches when you transition from a pole sit to perform a trick that’s called ‘chopsticks’. He tries not to focus too hard on the shape of your ass in your pretty outfit—but that’s pretty much the point. To look, so he gives himself some grace.

More than being shocked though he’s in awe, so much that he watches you perform for a couple minutes more. Performing trick after trick for the women and the men gathered around the stage happily throwing money at you as you dance and flaunt yourself.

There’s beauty in you, talent, and grace. Nanami does take a second to look away from you, just to take in the eyes of those who also have their eyes on you.

Lust, envy, and greed.

Nanami’s eyes snap back to you. The vibe of the song changes, something that gets the people’s blood pumping if it weren’t already. Especially after how sensual your song was. More dollars are thrown even after you climb off the pole and step off the stage.

You’re approaching the table—the table, his table—

“Satoru.” You smile, voice teasing once you make eye contact with the blue eyed man who’s now sipping on his second virgin mimosa of the night with many more to come after.

“Hey, sweetheart. You did good—per usual, and I like the new outfit,” He smirks, looking you up and down with a familiar warmth. “That’s the one we picked out together right?”

“Maybe, is that a virgin mimosa, Satoru? When you know you’re anything but?” You quip softly.

He chokes dramatically on his drink, “Don’t tease me, you know how I get.”

Nanami feels your eyes on him, heavy and with the type of heat he couldn’t possibly imagine even if he wanted to. Nanami is pretty sure he flinches when you move closer, fingers grazing the underside of his leather suspenders.

“Looks like you’re all out.” You hum, sweet and dangerous with a tilt of your head. You pull your leg over his thigh, and press your knee into the free space where his crotch is. Ignoring the hoots of excited men from behind. He sits higher in his seat in response, and it’s not because he’s uncomfortable.

“I’ll be fine.”

“Will you?”

Your fingers graze his jaw, and he tenses just enough for it to be noticeable as you pull his glasses off his face. Hesitating when he meets your gaze head on, a pretty hazel with a different mix of greens and browns. You finally place his glasses beside his empty drink. The drink he’d been sipping on the entire time you performed.

Of course you’d noticed, he was the first person that caught your attention out of all others; and to hold your attention was not something others experienced often, although there was a time. Glancing back down at the table and noticing the row of shot glasses lined across a wooden board, without thinking you pick up one.

“Open your mouth.”

Nanami hears the question in your tone, the demand as well. Out of mere curiosity he wonders if you’ve ever been rejected before, and well tonight won’t be the start of it.

He parts his lips, and you hold the underside of his chin while tipping the glass towards his mouth. He feels it instantly when it hits his tongue, vodka. You pull back to let him swallow.

Without so much as an expression of discomfort, he swallows the burning alcohol down to your surprise. Your fingers lingers when swiping your thumb across the droplet on the side of his mouth.

“You two have fun.” You take another shot glass from the tray as you step away, bringing it to your lips and downing it in a single gulp.

“Awe, not gonna party with us?” Satoru whines pitifully, trying to pretend like he didn’t just see the display you put on. Trying to pretend like he didn’t just see Nanami cross his legs with that tall tell readjustment of his groin.

“I wish, but you know this money isn’t gonna make itself.”

Nanami watches you walk away, eyes wide. Zeroing in on the swing of your hips, the seductive sway with every step you take.

You look back at him, just him and no one else. The corner of your mouth tugs upwards, in a show of satisfaction, perhaps more? His own twitches, like he wants to smile back but stops himself last second.

Because Nanami isn’t that type of man.

Nope.

He smiles back.

Then immediately whips his head away to cough and clear his throat.

“Oh she’s got you, already.” Satoru drawls.

Nanami turns his head back to Gojo when he speaks while wearing that annoyingly smug grin. “What? You know what—nevermind. I think I’ve had enough of this.”

Nanami goes to stand when he’s suddenly halted in his steps by what satoru says next.

“Seven to three.”

“What?”

Satoru takes a long sip of his drink to irritate Nanami further. “That’s how long she’s working for,”

“Ya’ know, incase you’re interested—you sure look interested.” He says while glancing at his friend’s crotch with a smirk.

Nanami jaw tenses, before scowling; he’s mildly disgusted—very disgusted actually. He sits back down, not because he wants to or anything.

“Shut up, don’t debase me.”

Nanami messed up badly—probably even horribly if he were being completely honest with himself, and well he stayed at the nightclub for nearly the entirety of your shift. He should’ve known better than to keep more than 600 hundred dollars in his wallet, but he did. Where did it end up exactly? In your pockets, because everytime you’d stepped out onto that stage, whether you were doing a solo, duo or performing floor work.

He’d reach into his pockets without even realizing he had, and pull fifty dollars or more, and as you’d walk by he’d place it into your hand. Yes, your hand. After that first time where he openly threw his hard earned money to the floor, he realized shortly after that it felt strange to do so.

You probably weren’t bias though, money on the floor, money being snuck into your bra. It was all the same after all.

After the shot you’d given him, Nanami didn’t drink much after, and before leaving around 12 he had a bottle of water. You’d watched him leave that night, as the club wrapped itself up for the day. More importantly your shift had ending and it was currently 3 in the morning.

You sat at the counter with Suguru who was trying to quietly clean up the bar. You’d much rather have a warm bath right now, but he was your ride home.

“Oh by the way, Suguru. I wanted to ask you something, who was that with Satoru tonight?” You asked without looking up, half heartedly mixing up your fruit juice.

Suguru continued wiping the counter, “Ijichi?” He questioned.

“What—no!” You replied while finally glancing up, “The other one, the tall blonde one—with the huge forearms?” You giggle softly.

“Oh, Nanami? Yeah…what about him?”

“Um, do you think Satoru will bring him back…to the club?”

Suguru hums thoughtfully, while continuing to place a couple cups away. The likely chance that Satoru would bring Nanami back was a good one, but he suddenly finds that he wants to mess with you rather than give you a straight answer.

“No, probably not. Wanna tell me why you’re wonderin’ about that?” He asks, before finally turning around to face you.

Your eyelids flutter, caught off guard by the sudden confrontation. Trying to stall for time you sip the rest of your drink, turning around just in time to see sukuna walking out the door.

Because you’d much rather hitch a ride with him than Suguru when he puts you on the spot, because he’s not exactly one to give up.

Sukuna stops in his tracks when you call out to him, and Suguru can only smirk knowingly because he knows what you’re up to.

“Hurry up brat, it’s late and shit.” You rush to grab your bag from the side of the bar stool, finishing off the rest of your drink while Sukuna barks for you to hurry up from outside.

“Have fun, but not too much fun, and text me when you get home.” Suguru tells you, while grabbing your empty glass off the counter, and you focus on getting out the door.

“Ok, I will suguru!” You respond back shortly on your way out the door. Suguru watches you leave while shaking his head.

When you get outside, Sukuna’s waiting by his car, a cherry red bugatti chiron, because despite earning a shit ton of money from being the best DJ in the city. Sukuna comes from the type of money that gets girls to drop their panties in a blink of an eye, old money. Like from generations ago—

He pulls open the passenger door for you, while still managing to hold that mean scowl of his. Without a word you climb in, but Sukuna already knows that the minute he starts driving you’re going to immediately start talking his ear off.

He opens the driver side of the car—

“Sukunaaa.”

Shit.

“Didn’t even get the chance to climb in yet and you’re already getting started.”

You ignore him, especially when he yanks your bag off your lap to toss into the back seat. He somehow manages to be careful despite the initial roughness.

“Sukuna, since when were you such a gentleman?” You tease softly, eyes sparkling. He looks over at you with narrowed eyes.

“You serious?”

You smirk and shake your head. “No, you’re not a gentleman, you’re a mean—annoying brat.”

Sukuna rolls his eyes, looks out into the street to make sure no one’s coming, before he starts pulling out into the road. “You’re an idiot.” He mutters gruffly with his hand tightening on the wheel.

You glance out the window, watching the nightclub fade in the distance as Sukuna flies down the road. Luckily for him there’s no other cars in sight, but with you in the passenger he surprisingly doesn’t skip any red lights this time. Just to be careful he tells himself, the last thing he needs is to get pulled over with coke in his pocket.

“How’d you afford this car anyway?” You start, while rolling your window down to hide your already growing grin.

“Busting my ass—“

“What like me?”

You jolt forward when Sukuna slams on the brakes unexpectedly. Sukuna swindles his head towards you, all slow and creepy. Hs stares at you as you keep your head hanging forward, shoulders shaking—he knows that if he says anything you’re going to start and never stop.

After three seconds of silence and sheer will power. The sound of Sukuna’s lips parting instantly sends you into a laughing fit. He doesn’t even bother saying anything while you laugh your ass off.

That night you get home in one piece, no thanks to Sukuna who kept accelerating the car every two seconds just to piss you off.

…

It’s been two entire weeks since Nanami woke up to an empty wallet, and it dawned on him for the first time in a while, that maybe he was a man of no morals. Spending $432.64 cents at a night club of all places? He had to be out of his mind.

Nanami Kento was out of his mind.

It was impossible to stop himself from thinking about a certain someone, you. You the sudden object of his every thought, the woman he’d see in his dreams. Dressed like an angel, because apparently his wallet decided that you were the only thing saving him from capitalism.

Well sorta. The original problem was that he couldn’t stop thinking about you, and he was a very busy man. Work was one of his main priorities, despite that he would never ever—find himself enjoying **overtime. The couple of cents weren’t worth it. Paid leave while he went on a much needed vacation?

Oh absolutely.

That reminded him, that he’d been working so hard non-stop for two weeks, trying to get the thought of you out of his head that he eventually ended up right back at square one.

The night club.

You’d been bored the entire time, sulking at the bar counter while Suguru worked on drink orders. It was a busier week this time, around eight o’clock, and you’d already gone on stage. So the rest of your time was spent whining, and you just couldn’t stop complaining, while simultaneously tapping at your phone. Suguru was used to you complaining though, just not the fact that it was about a guy.

“I hate Satoru!”

“I’m sure you do—hey what can I get for ya’?” Suguru says, and darts to the other end of the counter to get someone’s order.

You couldn’t stop huffing and puffing. Hell, you could barely stop yourself from blowing up Gojo’s phone with just your mind alone.

You:

“Just give me his number already, I know you have it. Jerk!”

Your eyes narrow immediately as you watch those three dots pop up, and you kick your feet around in wait for his text.

Satotally (Satoru):

“No.”

“If you say please, maybe:Þ”

You visible recoil from the screen, and the moment Suguru walks back over—still preparing a drink you turn your phone screen towards him. Blinding him from the sudden brightness and making him squint to read the texts.

“Look that this—he thinks this is funny!”

“Still begging for Nanami’s number, and here I was thinking men like that weren’t your type anymore?” Suguru smirks, before passing someone a row of shots.

“What—I m-mean I don’t necessarily have a type. Plus he’s only kinda cute—“

“Kinda huh?“

“That’s not the point!”

“Hold on second—yeah what can I get you?”

Suguru’s stepping away again, and you frown. Instead of waiting you flip your phone back around. Lightly dropping it on the counter to text Gojo back.

You:

“You’re a butt head! When we get to hell I’ll make sure the devil burns you extra for this!”

Satotally (Satoru):

“Okay ദ്ദി(ᵔᗜᵔ)”

You turn your phone off, and flip it upside down to focus on your drink. Suguru makes the best Pina coladas, it’s not even a question. The sudden tap at your shoulder makes you turn your eyes, slightly. Just enough to see who’s tapping at you.

Your slight smile drops immediately, and you frown instantly when you meet eyes with a bleached blonde instead. You’re instantly pissed—

“What’d I tell you about leaving me alone!”

Naoya’s a shameless regular who spends daddy’s money like it’s his only job. “You’re a bitch, ya know that? How about you do your job—“

“I’ll stab you.”

Naoya blinks, before dropping his nasty grin to sport a look of genuine surprise. “I should get you fired for this! See how you like that!” He snaps while walking off, grumbling something about your nasty attitude.

“Yeah? Well I’d like to see you try!” You bark back, while he begins to disappear from view. Hidden between a sea of bodies, your voice lowers. “Little bitch.” You turn away, and pull your straw back between your lips. Sipping while trying to take your thoughts off a certain someone.

You’d hate to admit that an “average” man like him had caught your attention. Especially when you realized that for two weeks, whenever you preformed you’d look for him in the crowd gathered around the stage.

It was an attraction you couldn’t explain.

Or resist.

Another tap at your shoulder and you almost explode—

“Naoya—“

“Someone wants you in vip.”

You blink past your annoyance once you realize that it’s shoko. You frown softly, but don’t budge to wait for more information, because she can tell by your face that you’re not interested.

“Blonde.”

You’re listening.

“Pretty tall, you know the one with the huge forearms you’ve been telling me about all week? The one with the green and silver glasses?”

Now you’re really listening.

“Which room?” You ask while climbing off the stool.

“The one furthest down the hall, he was oddly specific about privacy.” Shoko smirks knowingly as you begin to walk away.

“Well there goes our girl.” She says, sliding the rest of your drink over in front of her, she stirs it around first, before taking a sip, her lipstick catching on the straw.

“To work her ass off like everyone else—that’s alcohol by the way, like 80 percent.” He says with a questionable tone.

“Oh, I’m aware.”

You fiddle your thumbs together as you make your way towards the room. You can admit that you’re nervous. It’s actually been a minute since you’ve had clients in private rooms, you usually get a lot of requests, but since you’ve had an unexpected infatuation with—well the man you’re about to see now. You’ve left that to the other girls.

You pause at the door, trying to hear literally anything inside, but it’s extremely quiet. You shouldn’t be nervous, this is just like any other time you’ve performed. You remind yourself that you’re just working like always with a deep breath. With enough confidence you wrap your hand around the door knob and twist it open, finally stepping inside.

When you eventually decide to get yourself together, you see him sitting all quiet on the leather couch around the strip pole center piece. The lights are low as always, a red that makes the rhinestones on your heels shimmer. The opposite side of the room is just one giant mirror, clear and cleaned regularly.

They keep the rooms decorated, animal print rugs and cute pillows to match. You stole one once, and you’re surprised no one caught you. You flinch when the glass you had no idea that he was holding hits the table.

He blinks up at you, well you think he does, you watch him turn his head towards you through. You smirk softly, and step forward; silently closing the door behind you.

“Sir, I’m sure you’re aware of the rules, but if you’d like, I’d repeat them for you.” You speak up sweetly, trying to focus on the music that’s thumping through the walls because of a certain someone, and not the way you can feel his stare heating up your insides.

“No, I find that it isn’t a difficult task to stay respectful and keep my hands to myself.” Nanami tells you, expression oddly fixed. He leans back, crosses his arms over his chest and waits for you to decide when to approach him.

You swirl your tongue around in your mouth, suddenly finding that it’s extremely difficult to keep your filthy thoughts to yourself, because you could definitely be using your tongue on certain other things.

“Being respectful is another thing, keeping your hands to yourself after asking for a room with me…well it’s certainly a choice, sir.”

The closer you get the faster your heart thuds, you’re starting to remember how intimate these rooms can be. You can hear his breath hitch faintly when you brush against his leg, and that alone turns you on more than words could.

Unless it’s your mind playing tricks on you.

“Maybe you’re just like every other man who comes in and out of these rooms, greedy—“

“I’m not like all the other men you’ve met, I can assure you.” he says with a certain type of intensity that almost makes you want to believe him.

“I’m resilient, responsible, patient…” he trails off, trying not to let his breath stutter in his throat when you step between his legs. Spreading them apart by pushing your own leg out further to open his.

“And what else?” You murmur, stepping closer. You reach out, to pull his glasses off his face. Without fail Nanami meets your gaze, and you meet his. You get the exact same feeling you had the first time. Pure heat when you register the worship in his eyes.

“You’re a smart woman, I’m sure you can figure it out.” Nanami keeps his arms folded, because despite what he said pior he has no idea what he’d do if you leaned any closer. Seeing your glossy lips turn upwards into a grin is missing with his head, and he can’t decide if one is more effected than the other.

“So now I have to figure it out? Well you were extremely enthusiastic about meeting me a couple weeks ago.” You wrap your hand around his tie, and hook your finger into the opening. You swirl your tongue around inside your mouth once more and this time Nanami notices.

“That was different—we weren’t having as many inappropriate thoughts about each other then as we are now.”

You taste cooper.

Fuck.

You try not to show visible annoyance at the act. You tug his tie loose instead, and he finally drops his hands to his sides. Fingers digging into the leather, letting out a soft hiss when you move closer. Pressing your knee right into his crotch.

You’re so close he can breathe you in, you smell like confidence and sin, and something even sweeter. Something he suddenly wants to devour badly. Nanami can feel the warmth of your skin, your inner thighs. Your finger tips when you use his tie as a makeshift blind fold to cover his eyes.

He can hear the way your heart race, like it might jump out your chest when you press your lips to his ear. You’re just as affected as him.

“It’s desperation; isn’t it? You wouldn’t be this hard if you didn’t miss me.”

You hear him grunt against you, but only when you dig your knee closer, “Unless I’m still reading you wrong, sir.”

When you speak, he feels your breath all the way down into his shirt. When you purr softly and purposefully brush your lips against the lobe of his ear he feels that in his loins. Nanami is positive he won’t survive, but maybe he doesn’t want to.

He prides himself on being a gentleman, but you see right through the stoicism. You climb over him, and right into his lap. He feels the weight of you first, the press of your breasts against his chest. He feels you falter, like you’re deciding if you should drop your entire weight onto him.

Nanami almost lifts his hands to press your hips down, but then he remembers the strict rundown he got from a man with two silly pigtails.

“No sex.”

“No swapping spit.”

“You don’t look like the type but no touching the dancers inappropriately—and wait a second did I mention no sex?”

“If you’re going to sit on me use your full weight.”

You settle your full weight onto his lap, and unfortunately for Nanami he can’t exactly see you do so. Only when he feels the soft experimental grinding motion of your hips does he realize that you’re sitting.

“I hope you didn’t actually come here for a dance.” you whisper quietly.

You move your hands onto his shoulders to admire his face freely after tying the blind fold around his eyes. His jawline is sharp, and his cheekbones—oh his cheekbones are to die for.

“Perhaps not, but if you don’t mind me speaking freely. I’ll admit that I couldn’t stop thinking about you.”

The soft motion of your hips against his own falters, and Nanami’s heart jumps. It’s strange only being able to sense his surroundings, but besides that every grind of your hips was made to personally unravel him. He can feel himself harden traitorously.

Nanami suddenly flinches, because despite not being able to see anything he can feel the pure heat of your gaze as you stare at his mouth. Before he can stop himself he uses his hand as a barrier between your mouth and his own when you lean in.

One hand finally finds your waist, fingers digging gently into the skin. Just enough to stop you from moving.

“Patience, sweetheart.”

“Patience—patience? I-I’m not some dog to order around—“ you huff, even though he can’t see you, he has a feeling you’re pouting by the sound of your voice. Nanami uses both hands to drag you back against him when he feels you trying to shift off him.

“I know, but you’re reading me wrong,” He says calmly, before continuing with a tone that’s none other than teasing. “Again.”

You stare at him, interested—disinterested suddenly. That’s a lie. It’s been a long time since you’ve felt true attraction towards a man, and now this one just wants to toy around with your head like you’re some Barbie doll.

“Well, I’m on the clock so spit it out.”

You do very bad things to him, make him think very bad thoughts. Nanami’s holding on by a thread, literally. What is he gonna do with you? He finally pulls off his tie that you had wrapped loosely around his eyes, before allowing his hand to find your waist again.

He stands abruptly, with you still in his hold, hands tight around your waist. Holding you up effortlessly, you notice the way his muscles bulge beneath his shirt. Your mouth waters immediately. You both pause at the same time that your heels settle on the tip of his brown oxfords.

Because you’re just tall enough.

Nanami eventually comes back to himself quick enough to place you on your feet. He steps away to pull his suit jacket off of the nearby coat stand. He reaches inside for his wallet while still holding his tie.

“I wanted to ask you out officially on a date, that was the original goal.“

“So a small peck is too much for now is what you’re saying?” You cross your arms and relax your weight on one leg while you stare at him.

He takes a breath at the sight and steps back over to you, this time with a fresh stack of bills. You place out your hand, already knowing that it’s more than enough from just a glance

“Yes, because you’re dangerous,” he breathes, “but I’m patient enough to get you somewhere, where we can truly be alone.” Nanami whispers, and your heart thuds instantly when he meets your eyes. You don’t even realize that he’s placed the money into your hand.

Seeing that you’re not convinced Nanami turns your hand over and places a lingering kiss over your knuckles.

“Have a goodnight, sweetheart.”

Then he’s pulling away, and then you’re watching him walk out the door like he didn’t just absolutely have your heart soaring in your chest.

You’re hooked.

He’s depraved.

Nanami couldn’t believe he’d almost do something so unprincipled, and debauched. Nanami stopped for a moment in the hallway to will away his erection. He had the weight of a boulder in his pants. Nanami swallowed, and rubbed his hands down his face. His mouth felt dry thinking about you, and you were only a room over.

He felt wrong, like something was very wrong with him. To think about a woman so pervertedly was not something that he did often, seeing the way your eyes gleamed, and your lips. Plump and glossed and so inviting—it was tempting. Very tempting, to spread you beneath him and devour every inch of your body until you could breathe nothing but him.

Nanami Kento could be patient.

Nanami convinced himself that he could, and so could you.

Well you’d have to be.

Nanami left that night with only part of his dignity in tact unfortunately.

The minute you were positive Nanami was gone you stepped out the room. The smell of weed hit you, as well as the remnants of his cologne lingering in the air. Your heart was thudding so fast you could hear it in your ears alongside the rush of your blood. You maneuvered between a pile of dancing bodies until you found your way to the bar.

Suguru glanced over at you as you pulled yourself up into the stool.

“It’s almost your turn on stage, you know.” He says.

You turn your head to glance at the stage, another woman was still performing. Her ass just jiggling as, before she continued on the pool to do a couple intermediate tricks.

You hummed, and Suguru could hear that you didn’t care.

“That’s too bad, everyone’s going to have to miss a night with me,” You smile, “I’ll have a Long Island.”

“You’re trouble, you know all these people are here for you, and yet you deprive them of your presence.” Suguru responds with a smirk, while he starts on your drink. “Have fun in vip, your highness?”

You nod, “Oh I’m about to have a whole bunch of fun right now too.” You tell him with a cheeky, and excited grin.

…

You wake up with a raging fucking headache the next day, and the sound of your alarm blaring next to you. You groan loud, in the emptiness of your bed room you’re hidden beneath a pile of pillows and heavy blankets.

“Fuck..” you grumble to yourself, throwing the cover off your face, before moving yourself all the way to the other side of the bed to swipe your phone off the bedside table. Finally hitting stop on your alarm.

When you notice a couple of text messages. You scroll through, reading the few texts you got from Suguru first.

Sugolgy (suguru):

“You were too wasted last night, I got Sukuna to drive you home.”

Sugolgy (suguru):

“He said you threw up on his seats…”

Sugolgy (suguru):

“I’m watching your location so he doesn’t leave you on the side of the road.”

Sugolgy (suguru):

“Text me in the morning so I know you’re alive.”

Sugolgy (suguru):

“I accidentally told Satoru you blacked out.”

“He thinks you’re gonna wake up with a hangover.”

His last text was five hours ago, you figure that there’s nothing to worry about. It’s Saturday and Satoru’s probably sleeping in right now. You go to place your phone back down, and turn back over to go back to sleep. When your phone buzz’s unexpectedly.

You raise a brow, before slowly flipping it back over, because it could be anyone.

Unknown:

“I’m outside.”

You turn your phone back over, ready to ignore the message. When your phone buzzes a second time.

butthead (Satoru):

“I sent Nanami over to your place:Þ”

You’re positive that your heart just leaped into your ass, you toss your phone to the side and practically throw yourself out of the bed. You race out of your bedroom, taking a moment to come back and slide your slippers onto your feet, before you fly to the front door.

You forget to check the peephole, and you still manage to unlock the door in record time. Nanami’s on the other side when you pull it open.

“It’s you.” You murmur, eyes wide and out of breath.

“Yeah, it’s me. Good morning, or good evening rather.” He smiles, all polite and warm like he hadn’t just had you biting at pillows in your sleep.

The silence lingers, and it’s even longer while you both continue to stare at each other. Nanami’s eyes drift downward, to the smudged lipstick on your mouth. To the oversized shirt you’re wearing, and how it shows off your hardened nipples without a care in the world.

His eyes dart back up, and you finally realize how long you’ve both been standing here in silence.

“Oh sorry—you should come in, god knows how long I had you waiting outside—“ you giggle sheepishly, stepping to the side to allow him some room.

Nanami hesitates, and you cut him a soft questionable look in response. Finally smiling before continuing. “I’ll make you some coffee, I also have some left over pastries.”

Like dangling cheese in front of a mouse.

Nanami walks inside.

Once he’s inside you close the door behind him, trying to hide your obvious nervousness, because he’s in your house. You give yourself a silent pep talk while turning the lock on the front door.

Nanami looks around, taking in the cozy atmosphere of your well furnished home. The natural lighting spilling past lacy curtains.

“So, Satoru forced you to come here?” You ask, while walking past him to make your way into the kitchen. Nanami sniffs, taking in smell the warmth of your skin and the fading perfume.

Nanami walks a little further inside, placing the bag he’d been holding onto the counter. He wants to say yes, but he settles for the next best thing.

“No, but he did blow up my phone about coming to check on you, because he was too busy.”

“Really?” You pull a mug from the cabinets, free hand settling against the edge to reach one of the good ones.

Nanami hums, fingers tapping mindlessly while he watches you move around your kitchen. He simultaneously begins to remember where everything is, the coffee, the sugar, the spoons for stirring.

“I got you some hangover medicine. I heard you had a night.” He suddenly brings up, and you just as suddenly remember your headache.

“Ah—yeah, that’s right. I did.”

“Was there any particular reason for your decision to get black out drunk?”

“Nope.” Once the coffee is finished you slide it over to him, turning away to reach into the fridge for a bottled water.

“Actually—it looks like Sukuna swiped the rest of my pastries, seems you’ll have to be patient until next time, hm?”

Nanami blinks, and you watch him chuckle in amusement in response to your comment.

“Yes, I suppose so.”

A couple minutes pass as he finishes his coffee, before Nanami’s on his way out the door. You watch him leave, as he climbs into his car and pulls off. Not long after saving his number you get a text from him.

Nanami:

“I’ve planned our date night already.”

“I hope that isn’t a problem, I’m open to other ideas.”

You smile softly, while tossing a pair of pajamas onto the bed.

You:

“No, that isn’t a problem.”

You groan and toss your head back before jumping on the bed. You hate talking formally, especially over text. I’ll

You:

“What time should I be ready?”

Nanami:

“Eight, I’ll pick you up and we’ll leave from there.”

You swallow and tap at your cheek, before typing out a reply.

You:

“How about eight-thirty instead?”

Nanami:

“That sounds good.”

After his swift reply you immediately send your own after.

You:

“When we see each other let’s talk casually.”

Nanami:

“That sounds wonderful, sweetheart. Whatever you want. I’ll see you then, enjoy your day.”

You giggle to yourself, kicking your feet around and turning on your most recent playlist, before dropping your phone onto the bed as the music begins playing through the speakers. You skip towards the already turned on shower.

…

The day of your date with Nanami finally arrives. The first two hours of your evening were spent tearing through your closet in search of more appropriate clothing—everything was either too short, showing too much cleavage or just down right slutty.

The heel choices were surprisingly broad, and you found a simple, yet eye catching pair of heels to match a nonexistent outfit—

The next hour was spent texting Shoko that you had a serious emergency. The serious emergency being a dress emergency, because you’d forgotten to go shopping before hand.

For the next half a hour your time was spent doing your sixty step shower routine. While blasting the “date night” playlist you made last night when you couldn’t fall asleep. A shuffled mix of Beyoncé, Jhené Aiko—and a couple other artists you couldn’t be bothered to name.

So when Shoko arrives with your dress later in the night, she unfortunately gets to your place at the exact same time Nanami does. Which is just as unfortunate for you of course, because when you open the door with nothing but a towel on, you find Nanami standing beside her, but atleast your makeup and hair are done.

They’re both standing there awkwardly, trying extremely hard not to make eye contact with each other.

“Oh.” You murmur, eyes wide. Shoko pushes past you, grabbing onto your wrist, you lose your grip on the door as she pulls you away.

You call out to Nanami, telling him that he can wait inside while you finish getting ready.

Shoko hands you your garment bag and you march right into the bathroom, you trust her judgement. Whatever dress she got you must’ve have been perfect, because all she said was “I got you” when she texted you back. You should’ve been worried, actually you were worried.

She watched as you walked into the bathroom, looking around at the mess of clothes, before taking a seat on the bed. Contemplating on whether or not she should have a cigarette while she wait.

“Shoko!”

Well after a few minutes of silence you stepped out the bathroom—

“It’s too slutty! I said something simple—“ you spin, in full disbelief. Aa you stared at yourself in the mirror, braless, nipples saying peek ‘a boo behind the fabric of the dress. The dress hugged everything into place, showing off curves—the dip of your spine and your ass especially.

With a body chain falling right above where your ass sat.

Shoko just smirks, and she walks over to let her fingers graze your back as she messes with the dangling jewelry.

“Well you’re an expensive slut, he’s just going to have to deal with it.” She shrugs and crosses her arms, you lift your hands to adjust your hair in the mirror.

“I’m serious Shoko, we’re supposed to be going somewhere nice—“

“You do look nice, hush. When he sees you he’s gonna eat you off the bone—that ass is sittin’ by the way.” she smirks.

You pout, and roll your eyes. Applying lipgloss to your lips. You have to resist making a comment about eating his bone first. Shoko walks you out, but to your surprise Nanami isn’t inside. You pull opened the front door, purse in hand, phone, lipgloss, and a couple hundreds tucked inside.

“You two have fun—like a lot of fun!” Shoko shouts after you, watching as Nanami pulls the door opened for you without looking. You take a breath when you sit inside, trying to calm yourself before your heart jumps out of your chest.

For a while, you and Nanami indulge in quiet, welcoming small talk together on your way to the restaurant. He tells you how he got a recommendation from Gojo, and you tease him sweetly for talking to a friend about his date with you, before you know it your being seated in an restaurant that looks far—too expensive, and just your taste.

Nanami pulls out the cushioned chair for you, and the moment he sees your back he falters like a broken recorded. Jaw clenching when he notices the dangling jewelry above the unmistakable curve of your ass.

“Jesus Christ.” He breathes heavily, pushing your chair in once you’ve seated yourself.

“What was that, Nanami?”

He clears his throat, not realizing that he’d accidentally spoken out loud. “Nothing, sweetheart. Should we order some wine and appetizers to start?”

He questions while he sits. You watch too intensely for your own good when he gets to rolling up his sleeves. His forearms catch your attention, the heavy sliver watch that sits on his wrist, the way he adjusts and loosens his tie. The prominence of his veins with the way his hand flexes—in then out, the thickness of his fingers. You have to swallow to keep yourself from drooling.

Nanami feels you staring, rather openly infact. Well he can’t deny that he’s also doing the same, the dress you’re wearing has grabbed his attention more times than he can count. He couldn’t even focus on the road with the scent of your perfume taking over his car, and with how you practically glowed when sitting in the passenger seat.

Even with you sitting in front of him you’re still glowing. It’ll be hard to ignore all the looks from the other diners, but with the way you met his eyes while folding your napkin over your lap, he can tell you aren’t focused on them.

“You look beautiful.” He says, soft—low enough for you to miss, but you catch it.

Your eyes sparkle when you smile, and he has to stop his own lips from turning upwards. “Thank you.” You respond sweetly, with your eyes glimmering with a spark of mischief

Wine and appetizers come out sooner than you except, and well your mind isn’t too focused on the food. You can’t stop staring at him. As he sits and tries to make light conversation by asking about the week you had. You give him a smile, not listening at all. It’s probably the wine. You watch his lips part over his glass, tongue darting out to lick your bottom lip. It’s not the wine, definitely not.

“Nanami?” You purr softly, using the tip of your heel to tease his pants leg a little higher. Gaining access to his ankle, you watch his Adam’s Apple bob in response.

“Yes, sweetheart?”

“Are you sure you’re hungry for just food,”

Nanami holds your gaze, you feel his gaze drop to your dress, you realize he’s staring at your cleavage. At this point he’s almost admiring the way they spill out the front of the dress. He closes his eyes when he realizes that he’s literally ogling at your chest. Despite his efforts to appear unaffected, you catch the way his hand tightens around his glass when he goes to pick it up again.

“Even with me sitting across from you?”

His free hand slips beneath the table, as your foot moves higher up his leg. Nanami wraps a gentle but firm hand around your calf, bringing your foot into the empty place of his chair.

“Behave,” he demands lowly, with a desperate sip of wine, before whispering a gentle “please.” at the end. You have to stop yourself from teasing him further when the waiter walks over ready to take your orders.

Things don’t go as planned.

You leave the restaurant starving, and not for food; after your continuous teasing. Grinding the edge of your heel into his inner thigh, Nanami knew he had a problem on his hands. Especially after asking the waiter if the two of you could just get your meals to go—and he noticed how you smirked from the corner of his eye.

You came to terms with the fact that Nanami wasn’t like all the other men you ran into weeks ago. He was reserved, patient, and like he said resilient and responsible. He never implied that he was like other men at all; desperate, but now that you’re tumbling into his apartment. With his lips stuck to yours like glue, and his hands around your waist.

Pulling you inside, and pressing your back against the wall while shutting the door with his foot and fumbling with the lock.

You can feel the desperation in the way he slants his mouth against yours, tongue sliding in between your plump lips. You moan and you swear you feel him shudder.

Then again you’re no better than him, because once his fingers graze your lower back you feel like a cat in heat from the way you immediately arch into him.

“Fuck,” he hisses, like it’s pained him to be so close to you, but now that you’re alone, he doesn’t have to hold back anymore. Especially after being so sure that he’d devour you in the middle of the restaurant if you kept eye fucking him. “You’re sweet.” He acknowledges with a low groan.

Hands tightening around your waist, moving further down your hips as you push your body tight against his. His lips find your jaw, trailing kisses down your throat as you grasp at the back of his head.

Fingers twisting into his blonde locks, he takes you in with a deep inhale, hearing you gasp once his tongue darts out against your pulse.

“Nanami—“ you falter, a pitched whined escapes your throat, only further expressing the current need that’s flowing through your veins like fire.

“Kento.” He tells you against the lobe of your ear and you swallow hard, letting his name fall from your lips in a desperate whisper. He’s warm, and solid. You can feel the hard ridges of his chest pressing against your front. It’s like you’re being pressed between two walls of heavy brick. When he lifts his head to press his lips to yours you met him half away, and the kiss is just as desperate as before if not more. Your tongue presses against his, tasting the wine you both shared.

It’s deeper, softer as his tongue slides back against yours. He grunts against your mouth as you tug at his tie, fingers wrapped tight around the material. Your lips part for just a second and you feel the heat of his breath brushing against your spit slicked lips.

His nose brushes against yours, you giggle softly and nuzzle him back. Catching the smile he gives you. “I need you.” He murmurs, breath fanning against your lips, before he’s pressing his back to yours, swallowing your moan and letting it tumble out of his mouth as a groan.

Deep in the very humble abode, of Nanami’s apartment. Desire flares in every inch of his body, your fingers graze his throat and he feels it somewhere deep in his spine. While your hand slips down the front of his throat to wrap around his tie, to slowly undo it as you’re pressed between his thighs. He keeps his hands like anchors on your hips.

“Is this your desperation, Kento?” You ask with a tilt of your head, he leans back as your hand tightens around his tie to keep him close.

“This is more than just desperation, love.” He tells you with a soft smirk that makes your insides twist. It’s a welcomed feeling, especially when you watch his gaze flicker as you lower yourself to your knees between his.

“Yeah? Show me.”

“You’re cruel, you know that?”

You smirk knowingly, and watch him adjust his hips. Allowing you further access, you reach out. Deft fingers undoing his belt with an unwavering gaze that only serves to heat his body beyond comprehension. His tongue darts out to wet his bottom lip, abs tensing between his shirt as your fingers graze his lower stomach.

“You love it.” Without hesitation you help him work his dark slacks down. You watch him pulse behind the fabric of his skin tight boxers and your mouth betrays your own desperation by cruelly salivating. Seconds after you free him, he springs free and you swear you hear him let out a sigh of relief.

He’s big, probably around eight to nine inches you guess at first glance. Pink, pretty, flushed and leaking a generous amount of precum at the tip. You lean forward, gliding your tongue along the head of him to lick it away. Surprisingly pleasant was your first thought, and the catalyst for your eager ministrations.

Nanami watches you with heavy lidded eyes, taking in the way your tongue laves around him. Breath fanning over the twitching head. You take ahold of the base of his shaft and he hisses low in response to the contact. You tighten your hand just enough to where he can feel it and jerk your wrist upwards; working a moderate pace.

“There you go, you’re doing so…good.”Something like a groan leaves his mouth as you pop the tip of him into the warmth of your own. Tongue swirling tentatively around the tip of his cock, his breath falters in his throat as you suck. Tongue working the underside of his cock as you take him deeper.

The muscle in his thigh jumps, his hand shoots forward to wrap around the back of your head, but he doesn’t force, he steadies you and grounds himself to the moment. To the heat of your throat as you gag around the thickness of him. Eyes watering as you peer up at him, and you truly unravel his control.

Swallowing thickly as you hallow your cheeks, you moan around him and begin to bob your head up and down every inch of him. Your hold on him long abandoned to work your throat. You feel his hips twitch beneath you, and you flatten your tongue against the underside of his cock and work your way from the base all the way back up to the tip.

“God, you’re sinful, you keep going like that—and fuckk, I’ll cum down your throat.” He grunts, his hold on the back of your head tightening as you go back down towards the base of his cock. Nanami can feel the tall tell signs of an orgasm building in his balls. His warning doesn’t stop you, it only further entices you, especially when he twitches down your throat.

When Nanami meets your lowered gaze, a shudder rolls through his body, and before he can even get his words out. Your lips wrap around the head of his splurting cock sucking greedily as he cums down your throat, jaw tense, eyes rolling back before he squeezes them shut.

His grip on the back of your head falters, but as you attempt to continue torturing him he drags you away. Nanami mutters something about being pent up and finishing too fast.

His cock lays half hard between his meaty thighs, and you watch him twitch as you swallow; the taste isn’t as bothersome, and it goes down easily despite being thick and a little messy.

“Get up here.” Nanami recovers shortly after, and you stand to your feet. He pulls you in close by your hips, bunching up the fabric of your dress. His eyes are noticeably more heated, as he presses his lips against the underside of your chest. A soft kiss that you feel even through the fabric. “You drive me crazy—in ways a woman has never done before, I can’t stop thinking about you.”

He slides his hands beneath your dress, fingers caressing your thighs. The calloused pads of his fingers scratching pleasantly against the heated skin of your inner thighs. “Imagine what it’s been like for me.” You lean down, and he doesn’t hesitate to press his mouth against yours. You tasting like him, turns him on his ways he hadn’t figured he’d ever enjoy.

His tongue meets yours, and you both moan at the contact, before you can think to climb into his lap. Nanami halts you with a tug of your lacy panties, “Take these off before I lose it.” Whether it’s a demand or a plea it doesn’t matter, because you take them off the second those words leave his mouth.

Then he pulls you into his lap, one hand grasping the sides of your thighs. While the other teases two thick fingers between your messy folds. You rock against him, gasping against his mouth as he begins to stretch you apart with those same fingers. Breath hot against your lips, “Just a little more sweetheart, and I’ll fuck you.”

Your heads spinning with need, you let out a whimper, and Nanami feels you clench around his fingers in response to his words. He pushes them deeper, and you’re so wet that they glide in without much resistance, he pulls them out until the tip of his fingers remain inside you then he buries them to the knuckle.

Again and again with this repetitive motion that drives you crazy.

“There it is, you’re such a good girl for me.” While working his fingers inside the heat of your cunt, he’s well in tuned with every squelch. Pressing his lips back to yours, hearing how your breath catches in your throat as you moan. His fingers graze deeper, seeking out the sweetest parts of you. He knows he has it when your voice gets pitchy and you give him that tall tell sign of your hips rocking closer.

Nanami’s fingers grind up against your sweet spot. Your eyelids flutter, and you clench around his fingers as they quicken inside you.

The knot in the lower half of your belly tightens, “Kento—“ you stammer out, lips grazing the corner of his mouth as you lean further into him, fingers grasping his shoulders like a lifeline.

“I know sweetheart, you wanna cum, don’t you?” He coos in this sickeningly cruel tone as he eases his fingers out of you, smearing them across your clit. “Not yet.”

You let out a whine that sounds more like a grumble of protest, finding your breath just as his both his hands finally come back down to your hips. “Still teasing me?”

“I’m enjoying watching you melt.”

“With the way you’re gripping me, I think it’s you who’s melting.” You counter, to which he only smirks and rocks you against the base of his cock. Feeling the slick of your center coat him throughly.

“You’d be correct, I’ve thought about getting you like this for a long time. Since I first witnessed you perform.” He breaths softly, you give him a smile.

“I guess we’re more alike than I expected.” You hum, steady your hips as you rock against him. Heat and impatience flaring inside you.

“Kento—“

“Take it, it’s all yours love.” He tells you, hands bunching your dress further up. He helps you work out of it, before tossing it somewhere over the bed as your fingers find the buttons on his shirt. Popping each one, while wiggling your hips against his. Your lips finding his in your needy haste to feel more of him.

His deft fingers unclip your bra in a fashion that feels practiced, and you shudder against the heat of his body. While teasing your tongue against his, you finally get him out of his shirt and it ends up somewhere stranded on the bed. With your fingers grazing against his chest, you start pulling your mouth away from his—Nanami catches the string of saliva that connects your mouth to his and licks his bottom lip.

Fingers tightening around your waist as you run your hands over his abs, pushing him to lean back. He obliges of course, doesn’t even flinch when you reach down to take ahold of him. Pressing the tip of him against your entrance. Teasing him through your soaked folds, and over your engorged clit, dragging him slow and steady back towards your slit.

“How’d you even hide all of this?”

“The same way I’m about to stuff every inch of my cock inside you.” When he tells you to come closer you don’t hesitate, bringing yours thighs tighter around his hips as you let the tip of his press past you entrance. Taking a breath as he rocks his hips upwards, and you press downward to take more of him.

The sensation of him pressing inside you makes your cunt clench around the intrusion. Closing your eyes and working your hips further down. Sinking your teeth into your lower lip as you prepare to take more of him. He’s thicker than you first thought.

“Keep going, you can do it.”

Nanami’s well crafted patience betrays him, and he doesn’t give you more than air to choke on when he brings your hips down all the way with an iron like grip on your soft hips. Sinking the entiretyy of his fat cock into velvet of your welcoming walls. Letting out a wrecked groan as you tighten around him.

He gives you a moment, just barely—“Fuckk…there you go, you’re doing such a perfect job, angel.” Nanami lets out a heavy breath, lifting himself to press his mouth against the curve of your throat. Teeth dragging across the sensitive skin of where your pulse sits, thumping faster and faster.

Nanami fills the deepest parts of you in the type of way that leaves no grounds for pretending. As you lift your hips upward to the tip, you sink yourself all the way back down with this slow agonizing grind of your hips when your fluttering pussy meets the base of him. Your soft insides mold to the very shape of him, veins and all.

With every breathy whine of his name on your lips they’re left to combine with the desperation in every grind of your hips; you begin to further test his control. His fingers trace along your hips and thighs as you begin to find your rhythm.

Gasping his name as he rocks you tight against him, “Ah—shit, kento—“ his chest heaves the same as yours. Gliding his hands across your body, squeezing everywhere he can as he brings his mouth to the curve of your breast, placing a heavy kiss to the weight of it, before wrapping his lips around the tip of your budding nipple.

“I got you, don’t stop—“ he grunts, he sucks your nipple hard, laves his tongue around it as you clutch at his shoulders. “*Mm—*god you feel so good.” He groans, when his hands come back to your hips he brings you down a little tighter. Making sure you’re taking in every throbbing inch of him.

The flared tip of his cock explores your depths further, as he angles his hips to press deeper. Leaving messy, and desperate kisses against your cervix as you met his every thrust with a downward one.

“You’re doin—ugh so so good sweetheart—“ he gasps out, his grip tightening on your hips. You can feel the pad of his fingers leaving imprints, and you lean into him. Silently begging for more, and he gives it to you. Snaking a hand between the sweat slick heat of your bodies, pressing his thumb against your clit. The knot in your body tightens as you moan against his shoulder, and Nanami nuzzles the side of your neck like you’re the only thing grounding him in the haze of your shared pleasure.

It’s nothing but perfection with the way he strokes every sweet spot inside you. Sensitive spots that you had no idea existed until now. You can hear the filthy sounds of your messy cunt just suckin’ him right on up, your combined fluids making a pretty mess around the base of his cock.

You can feel him twice inside you with every desperate bounce of your hips, and you can hear his breathing shake; same as yours. It only serves to further turn you on, and so much for keeping your composure, but you need him and everythinghe has.

“Cum inside—k-kento—“ you stammer out, another whimper escaping your throat as his hips buck beneath you. You hear him curse softly, dragging himself even deeper inside you. Grazing your sweet spot and relishing in the way you begin fluttering around him.

“P-please, I need to feel you—all of you.”

You’re the only thing on this planet that can ruin him so badly and still make him crave more. Nanami’s thumb presses firm against your pulsing clit, every circle and tease unraveling you as he times his rhythm with the eagerness of your hips.

“That’s it—you’re almost there love, cum with me, and don’t you dare hold back.”

When you cum around him you’re loud, and needy—and most of all the most perfect thing he’s ever seen. You let out a cry into the crevice of his shoulder as your orgasm rips through your body like a tide. Body tensing as you gush around him, and as expected Nanami follows right after you.

You feel spurt after thick spurt of cum fooding inside your cunt. It overflows messily around the base of his cock, and Nanami shudders against the heat of your body.

With your hips finally stilling, and your body coming down from a dizzying high. You pull your head off Nanami’s shoulder to press your forehead against his.

In the heat of the moment he presses his lips against yours, and it’s impossible to stop yourself from getting all soft and comfortable against him.

“I really like you, Kento.”

He leans back a little, and with soft eyes and an ever softer smile he reaches up to cup your face. “I like you even more, sweetheart.”

You blink up at him, trying to ignore the frantic almost nervous pounding of your heart inside your chest. “Really?”

You watch a brief moment of surprise flash over his face, before he leans forward to peck your mouth again. Gently caressing his thumb across your cheek. “Yes really, now let’s you get cleaned up.”

Considering a part two…stay tuned<3

[totally-not-niyah]

BUMPED

Pairing: Harry Hook x Reader

word count: not nearly enough, it's a formulated thought

“So she’s definitely taken?” Harry hadn’t ever imagined those words being directed towards Mal, of all people, but apparently a moment as grand as this can paint a person in a whole new light. 

“Definitely,” Evie says as she watches her best friend being paraded around. Harry turns his head, oddly close to the blue haired girl as they stare at each other, the latter looking at him with a small smile before her boyfriend steps in. 

“So is Evie, by the way,” he reminds him. 

“Hey!” Uma gives the pirate a hard jab to the side, looking up at him. “What’s my name?” 

He’s still for a good half a second before answering in the same tone he always did, looking into his eyes. 

“Uma,” he said naturally, misreading the situation so badly that he actually leans in to kiss her, to which she curls her nose up, shrinking back and hurrying to put distance between them sooner than later. 

She’d kiss her mother’s evil pet eels before she even went near Harry. 

Evie and Doug take off with Uma, moving into the large mass of people crowded around the future queen of Auradon, leaving Harry to stand on his own with an awkward stance. 

His hands go to rest in his pockets when he hears nearby voices. 

“Audrey, no, no, don’t you dare-!” Whoever was talking didn’t get a chance to finish as they spluttered from the impact of whatever force they had received. 

Harry’s quick reflexes make themselves useful when, grabbing whoever was millimeters away from slamming into him by the waist, blue eyes locking with wide ones. 

“Oh-!” you both say at the same time, laughing at the unplanned unison before taking a few steps back when he’s sure that you’re steady on your feet. 

“My bad,” you sheepishly make the next move, embarrassment evident in your posture. 

“Yer fine,” he assures, giving you a wide grin that’s too contagious to not reciprocate. 

Extending your hand, you introduce yourself, “(Y/n).” 

He takes your hand so delicately, bringing it up to his lips. “Harry Hook.” 

The gentlemanly gesture brings you an unforeseeable warmth, so much so that it gives you the courage to ask, “...You seem lonely. Do you wanna come dance with me?” 

Harry contemplates your offer, absolutely wanting to, but there’s just a small obstacle, however. 

“...I don’ really know how ta dance.” 

You snort in response, squeezing his hand and pulling him with you into the crowd. 

“That’s okay. Me neither.”

[wifeydbby]

Harry Hook x F! Reader

MDNI 18+ CONTAINS: Harry Hook x Reader | Black fem!reader | Mixed fem!reader | College Au | A slight sexual suggestion | Slow burn (?) | Maybe OOC? Word Count: 1193

Synopsis: You are the child of Queen Tiana, and King Naveen. Your first semester at Auradon University has been hard enough already but now that Harry Hook is your Lab partner studying is near impossible.

"Oi, you're starin' again." Harry's brogue voice snapped you out of whatever trance you had fallen into.

"Am not." You huffed. "I'm looking at your awful hand writing. No wonder you're so close to failing. The professor probably can't even read what you've written."

Maybe your response was a bit harsh, but you always reacted this way when covering up your embarrassment. He was right, you had been staring. Lately, you couldn't stop fixating on his hands. They were big, rough, and calloused from the hard life he'd lived back on the Isle. Most men you knew around your age had hands as soft, and smooth as yours. You often wondered how they would feel around you thr--

"Not fair!" He whined. Staring at you now with those intense blue eyes that you refused to look into. "Well let's see how pretty yer hand writin' is den."

Before you could refuse, he stood up and walked around the table. With both hands planted on either side of you, he leaned over your shoulder, effectively caging you in while his gaze drifted over the notes you'd been jotting down over the past half hour. 

"Aye, It's the most beautiful thing I've ever seen." His voice was light with deep admiration.

He leaned in even closer. His chest pressed up against your back making your heart skip a beat. He smelled like drift wood and the a ting of a gentle sea breeze.

"Do you think yous could teach me how to write? Ye know, like yours. All fancy and what not."

Despite the thumping in your chest you tried not to let it show. Your mother, Queen Tiana, taught you how to be strong, and carry on even in difficult situations. Though this is probably not the type of scenario she had in mind, but this was life of death in your eyes.

You closed your eyes, and let out a deep sigh. "Harry, We don't have time for that. We have a big test tomorrow, and a report due the following week. I will not be wasting ti-"

"But pleaseeeee." He spun your chair towards him, and dropped onto both of his knees. Clasping his hands together. "I'm on me knees. That's how bad I want to learn, Y/N." His bottom lip quivered in a pout to add a more dramatic effect to his effort.

Fuck. How could you say no to such a hot man begging on his knees to learn something you were taught in primary school. A part of you felt bad. Though you hadn't been to the Isle before it wasn't difficult to assume they didn't have the education you were given in Auradon.

"Okay, okay. I get it. Just... get off the floor, Harry. You're embarrassing me, please." The library wasn't exactly crowded, but a few people had started to gawk at the scene. "I'll teach you for a little while, and then it's back to studying. No excuses." 

You weren't sure how long you were teaching him the cursive alphabet or how your hand ended up on top of his.Hovering over him, and guiding him in his new fascination. Slowly showing him how to write his name once he started to get the hang of it.

His hands felt exactly how you imagined them. They were rough to the touch, and heavy. Close up you could see lots of small scars all over them, even ones that were on his arms you hadn't noticed before. What could he possibly have been doing in the Isle that resulted in this?

Your entire life had been nothing but perfect. Sure, You're parents weren't as stuck up as most of the royals in Auradon, but nonetheless it had been an easy life. Your mother taught you how to not be a stranger to hard work. Often helping your mother in her restaurant on the weekends when you weren't studying, or volunteering at the local animal shelter. However, nothing you experienced could compare to whatever hardship he had gone through before Auradon.

"I did it!" Harry exclaimed, looking up at you.

You looked down, and saw that Harry wrote his name all by himself. Wobbly cursive, and all. A smile spread across your face. Despite his wandering mind he was a quick learner when something piqued his interest, and didn't give up until he was satisfied.

"Yeah, you did." You ruffled his hair as he smiled up at you.

"Ah! Come 'ere!" Harry swiftly erupted out of his chair, and picked you up by your waist spinning you around. “Yer the best teacher in all of Auradon doll!”

"H-Harry!" You squeaked, before bursting into a fit of giggles. "Put me down! We are in the library!"

"So wha! Nobody's in here, but us anymore anyway." He gently set you back down onto your feet.

You looked around and noticed that he was right. Even the librarian had snuck off somewhere. "Ah, well. I guess we should pack this up and do it again tomorrow, huh?" 

Your eyes meet as you asked this question. The space between you two is almost non-existent. He was close. Too close. His hand grazed your cheek, pushing a loose curl out of your face. His gaze dropped briefly to your freshly glossed lips.

"Aye." His voice was a bit deeper and the tone felt suggestive though all he said was a single word. He stared at you like you were the only person in the world. Like you meant something to him other than just a simple colleague.

"A-aye." You mimicked his response, and gave him a light pat on the chest to break the tension before fully moving away from him to gather your books. "I should get going. Lots of homework. Lots of princess stuff to do. Ya know the whole shabang haha.."

You could feel his eyes on you. Watching every movement you made with intense concentration. The tension you called yourself breaking didn’t even seem to crack at your awkward attempt.

"Hey! Harry! I've been looking for you all over the place."

Both of your heads snapped in the direction of the new voice. At the entrance to the library stood Uma, Harry's captain, the girl he'd follow to hell and back. The girl he probably truly wanted.

"I told yer I'd be studying today." He called back to her.

"Yeah, but I didn't think you were actually serious. Let's go, we got shit to do." She pivoted on her heels, walking away down the hallway.

"Ay ey captain." Harry gathered up his things and turned to you. "Well if ye ever decide to take a break from being a princess ye know where to find me." He gave you a cheeky wink before lightly jogging away to catch up to Uma.

You held your books tightly to your chest. The heat in your cheeks boiling under the surface. How did you end up with a crush on Harry Hook? 

There was only one person you could talk to about this and it wasn’t your mother. You sighed, knowing the chaos to come.

 “Auntie Lottie is going to love this.” 

Recently I've discovered I have Adhd and my life is making a little more sense now after 27 years. (I made the banner is it not so cute??) Been obsessed with Descendants lately since a new movie is dropping next week. I love Uma and Harry's relationship dynamic but I didn't think I could write for Uma. Maybe I'll try one day. So I did what I know which is writing X reader content lol. This will probably get another edit in the future. Just wanted to post it before it's too late and i lose the motivation for it lmao. My plan is to have this be a 3 or 4 parter. Anyway enjoy. Banners by: Moonstoneandmoonlight

2026 © all my work belongs to me aka @wifeydbby. Do not repost, translate, or steal any of my works!

[tonycries]

We Don’t Have No Babies!

Synopsis. Well, it’s a bit difficult to have no babies when they’re well and fully intent on fúcking one into you.

Pairings. [SEPARATE] Gojo x Reader, Sukuna x Reader, Choso x Reader, Geto x Reader, Nanami x Reader, Toji x Reader

Content. MDNI, fem! reader, unprotected, bréeding, mentions of kids, máting press, pússydrunk boys, manhandling, marking, spitting, degradation, praise, cúmplay, the elders ugh (Gojo’s), some HEINOUS things, pet names, swearing.

Word count. 4.9k

A/N. WHEWW take this as an apology gift for missing yesterday’s post date, I overslept eheheh.

♡ TOJI FUSHIGURO - What’s another?

“Don’t hah- pass out on me yet, doll.” Toji hisses. Spreading your swollen folds further apart with his fingers, already stretched so obscenely around his swollen cock, and only trying to squeeze deeper. “What was it that brat said again?”

And you can only let out a broken whine in response - too high off the stretch and the utterly sinful pool of his cum spreading on the sheets below. It’s been like this for hours now, both of you barely lucid at this point. But you can’t bring yourself to be disgusted, not even a little bit. 

Because Toji’s throwing your legs over his shoulders, pressing down, down, down, till your knees were at your tits. Folded in half, and stuffed full beneath him. God, you weren’t going to make it out alive. 

“Oh, riiight.” he drags out, voice strained. Deceivingly innocent had it not been for that devilish grin. “He called you ‘mama’.”

And there it was - Megumi’s tiny, seemingly mindless slip-up that got you into this mess in the first place. One that had poked some raw, primal part of Toji so dangerously awake.

The one that had Toji splitting you in half with his aching cock, hips pressing so hard against yours that it almost hurts. Fucking into you in slow, languid motions of his hips, while he drinks in your sobbed out little, “Ah- Hngh- Toji, s’too much I-” 

Lazily, he thumbs open your folds even more, watching in awe at the way his seed dribbles and oozes down your thighs, seeping into the mattress. It takes him a while to form the words, too hazy from how warm and sloppy you were inside. 

“Too much?” he drawls, with the audacity to sound genuinely taken aback. “I don’t think it’s enough, ma.”

It’s the only warning you get - barely - before he laces his fingers on top of your head to take him deeper, snapping his hips harder. Sloppier. Sensitive cock stinging with sensitivity, balls squeezing painfully. It hurt, but it hurt so good. And Toji wasn’t even sure if he could cum again. But he was milking his cock on your pussy like he was gonna fill you up until he physically couldn’t anymore.

“B-but m’so full.” you babble, mouth dropping into a fucked-out little oh! as you look down at the way you were swallowing him up so well. “Dunno if I can’t hngh- t-take anymore.” 

Oh shit, had he said that out loud? Ah, who gives a fuck. Because Toji was chuckling in surprise, stuck on the way you could still form coherent sentences - he had to fix that, of course. 

“Shhh. Don’ worry about it. Jus’ need to fill you up- ah, fuck a baby into ya, ma.”  he gently kisses away those big, fat tears rolling down your cheeks. “All you gotta do is sit there all pretty n’ take- it-” 

Hand snaking down to toy with your swollen clit - frenzied, barely-circular motions just to get you off. Because shit he can’t just stuff you full of his cock without getting the mother of his future kids off, right? And he let you know, of course. Maybe he was whispering sweet nothings in your ear - probably it was just promises of how he was gonna fill your pretty lil’ cunt till morning comes and Megumi was gonna be the best big brother and-

“-m’gonna make ‘em breakfast. And you’ll dress ‘em up. We’ll read oh- them bedtime stories and-” he’s babbling so pathetically into the crook of your neck now. “-an’ tuck ‘em into bed- Oh, fuck fuck fuck.” Drunk off your pussy and the heavenly feeling of his heavy balls squeezing so dangerously, letting his hips go out of control now. “And then- hngh, and then-”

“T-then what?” you let out such cute sobs into his open mouth, seeing stars behind your eyes each time he ravages you.

“Ya really wanna know, ma?”

Somehow, his words have you squeezing around him so good. Enough that it’s almost difficult to move inside you. Enough that Toji doesn’t even realize that he’s cumming and cumming so hard that you’re bloated with his seed. Squelching out of your quivering pussy and soaking his cock as he doesn’t even think of stopping even as you keen at your poor overfilled pussy, teeth latching onto your earlobe as he holds you still for him. 

“And then…” Toji’s hot breath fans your face, voice guttural and sounding like he was losing a little bit of his sanity with each thrust. Hips moving again and again to fuck his cum deeper into you. “And then m’gonna fuck another one into you.”

♡ NANAMI KENTO - Lonely? No problem!

“Aww, m’sorry. Did I make you feel lonely, my love?” Kissing your lips softly, running his hands all over the pretty lil’ lace covering your body - just barely, of course. “Did I leave my pretty lil’ wife all alone in this big house?” 

You give him a pouty little nod, and oh does that do something to Nanami’s heart - and his achingly hard cock. And he can’t help but pull the drenched fabric of your panties further to the side, greedily honing in on the way you glisten and clench around him. 

“Well, we should fix that, right? So that my pretty baby is never alone in here.”

You would be reassured by his answer - had it not been for the way Nanami doesn’t even wait for your reply. Instead, looking straight into your eyes while he pushes his thick cock deeper inside you. Not even fucking preparing you as he usually would.

“Oh! Oh, mm fuck-” And it’s all you can do to buck into his touch and just fucking take it while he grunts at the slight resistance. For once in his life more concerned about trying to fuck desperately into your dripping cunt than whether or not your poor pussy would hurt herself trying to take him. 

That merciful, practical little part of his brain going slow to let you adjust to his massive cock - because, well, he couldn’t break the mother of his future children. Now, could he?

But oh how you’d beg to differ with the way Nanami fucks into you in languid , shallow grinds of his hips. No matter how many times Nanami stuffed you full of his cock - his size never failed to disappoint. Stretching you out, fingers swiping at your clit, expertly grazing against all the right spots he knew so maddeningly well. 

“Two or three?”

It takes you a second to register that he’s waiting for your answer - too delirious with the way your husband’s splitting you apart deeper and deeper on his cock. Leaving neat crescents of his nails on your hips as he holds your slutty pussy still. 

“W-what?”

“Two or three?” Nanami gives your pulsing clit a little smack! as if to get your attention, hips stuttering ever-so-slightly at the way you squeeze his thick cock in surprise. “How many babies am I fuckin’ into you, my love?” 

Oh. Oh, shit. You weren’t making it out alive.

But were you really complaining? No.

Swallowing thickly, “Ah! Fuck, Kento- wan’ two.”

And maybe you’re a mastermind, maybe you’re an idiot. Because nowhere is the gentleman that you married, Nanami’s spitting on your quivering cunt once. Twice. Watching like a predator stalking his prey at the way it misses - purposefully, splattering against your inner thigh.

Smearing it all over your pussy and your panties - which he was too impatient, too starved - to remove. Messy. 

It’s all Nanami needed to do before he’s bottoming out completely. Pressing his forehead against yours in such a sweet motion, even though his hips were so mean. Drinking in your delirious whines as his heavy balls smack your ass. Over and over-

The duality making your head spin as he fucks his cute lil’ wife dumb, part of his sanity dancing away with his restraint every time your slutty hole sucks him up so deliciously. 

“Shit. More?” he grunts, sounding absolutely wrecked. Moaning at the way you tug at his hair, legs wrapping around his toned waist as if to urge him to go faster. Deeper. Begging. Begging him to ruin you. More more more- 

And, of course, what his girl wants - she gets. Because Nanami’s dragging his weeping tip across your swollen folds, all the way out till he’s collecting your sweet juices on his head. “Better take it like my good wife then.”

Then he’s pushing and pushing inside your tight pussy, but not like he was before. Jagged, desperate grinds of his hip - no adoration, no warmth. Just fucking you like his little slut, high off the idea of fucking his cum into you till you couldn’t walk. Till you were so full of him that he’s all you could think of. “We’ll have such beautiful babies, my love.” 

“Shit shit shit, Kento- yer gonna ruin me-” you’re whining, body torn between arching into Nanami’s unforgiving cock and running away. 

As if you ever had a chance - he was holding you so bruisingly by the hips, gasping into your mouth. “Shhh, that’s the point.”  Fucking you so filthy, each word punctuated by his out-of-control hips, so harsh and unfocused with lust that those tufts of blond at his base scratch your sensitive nub. And the feeling is so fucking obscene that you barely hear the words that follow. “You jus’ focus on taking care of my babies, n’ m’gonna be the one to ruin this pretty cunt- The one to fill you up- fuck. ”

Nanami throws his head back as you squeeze the soul out of his throbbing cock, so pent-up and needy that you’re creaming all over his cock already. And of course, Nanami isn’t any better - because with a strangled groan of your name, he’s cumming. Hard. almost painfully so. 

“N’ you’ll never be lonely, cuz everyone’s gonna see you and see me. I did that.” 

Jolts of electricity going all the way from his heavy balls to the thick, hot ropes of cumming filling your dripping pussy. Painting it all a desperate, desperate white.

And shit was Nanami an entirely different man tonight. Pulling out ever-so-slightly, only to admire his seed gushing out of you - so lewd and his. 

“Y’know what, my love, I don’t think two will be enough after all.”

♡ GETO SUGURU - Pretty (and his)

“Awww, pretty baby.” Geto purrs, in such a dangerously low voice, smacking his tip - so red, and angry - all across your swollen folds. He bites his lip at the way his cum spills down your legs, pooling onto the hardwood floor with a deafening tap! tap! tap! “Y’want it so badly, huh?”

“Shit- hngh- please!”

You don’t know what you’re begging for - maybe release. Maybe mercy. Maybe to be anywhere but here - shoved against the wall right beside the front door, dress hiked up, almost your way to go clubbing with your friends before your beloved boyfriend had caught you. And stuffed you full of his cum, at least.

Whatever it is, Geto only gets messier, teasing your sloppy hole by slamming in - just barely grazing that one spot. And pulling out completely, watching you clench and glisten in the dim lighting. In. And out. In and out in and-

“Sugu!” you squeal, tired of the way he was having way too much making such a mess of your pussy. Swiping at your slick, and shoving his seed back into you - smirking at the obscene mess. 

“Mhm?” he nods absent-mindedly. Eyes flitting between your ravaged pussy and that absolutely adorable pout on your lips. Chuckling, “What~? If I cum in this cute pussy one more time, you’re sure to get pregnant, y’know.” 

Scoffing, “Shoulda thought of that when you came inside me the first time.”

Geto rolls his thumb over your sore clit - just as a little punishment - breath hot against your ear as he whispers raggedly.  “And are you complaining, gorgeous?”

“N-no…” 

“Then?”

He’s licking little circles at the crook of your neck now, in time with the maddening, frenzied patterns on your cunt. Enough friction to keep those pretty lil’ whines spilling from your swollen lips, but still teasing you just enough to have you bucking and keening onto his aching cock for more more more-

“Please! I jus’ want your cock, Sugu-”

All it takes is your broken little whimper, and it’s like something snapped - because Geto’s plunging into your plushy walls completely. Finally giving you an ounce of that friction you’ve been craving for so long. Only half the man he was once before while fucks into you deliriously. 

“F-fuck. Love it when you’re so messy f’me.” he’s hissing lowly, as if you could be anything but messy. As if he’s not pulling you back by the hair to bounce you like some slut, hips snapping mercilessly. As if he isn’t absolutely ruining you.

And maybe if you were in any better state of mind you’d have said something about the pure disrespect in his cock. Fucking you nothing like the sweet sweet whispers he was muttering in your ear, ragged and hoarse with desire.

“Gonna fill you up, huh? Give me some cute lil’ babies?” he groans,nibbling on your earlobe, fingers pressing down around your throat so the only response he gets are wet gurgles. Ones that go straight to his twitching balls, as Geto keeps running his mouth pussydrunk. “They better have your personality, don’ wanna share my pretty girl. Isn’t that right?”

So mean. Just babbling like you rarely get to see him - usually the ever-graceful Geto Suguru. Now, drunk on your tight pussy and the image of you with a little baby with black hair and him - there for it all. His perfect little family. 

“Gonna be the perfect momma, huh?” 

Geto only gets a broken little whimper in response - one that almost makes him want to go easy on you. Almost, instead, he settles for breathing out a ragged, “Fuck fuck fuck, yeah, gorgeous. Squeeze me s’tight like that - jus’ like that jus’ like that-” 

Trailing such a delicate finger up your legs, Geto pools that sinful mixture of your slick and his cum on his fingertips - before shoving them unforgivingly in your mouth. The slightly salty taste was so addictive on your tongue - and, hell, you aren’t even mad that you’re running late to meet your friends.

Smirking as you gag and mewl around him, he only gets sloppier. Faster. Licking a long, languid stripe up your neck, just knowing that he’s gonna cum inside your cute pussy harder than he has his whole life. Have your poor pussy bloated with him him him- “Now, yer gonna go to that lil’ party of yours jus’ like this. And everyone’s gonna know who you belong to.”

♡ CHOSO KAMO - Can’t help himself

“N-no, swear-” Choso lets out a broken little whimper into the crook of your neck. Feet flat on the bed, hips bucking up mindlessly over and over to where you were splayed out so prettily on top of him. So messy and dripping all over his glistening cock. “Gonna ngh- be the last one- I s-swear.”

You’ve heard this broken little mantra before - and you knew it wouldn’t end well for your poor pussy. Especially not with Choso bullying his weeping cock back into your snug cunt. “But, Cho!” you gasp, “We’re out of-”

He knows you’re out of condoms. But, really, does it matter?

Because shit were you like the gates of heaven spread wide open for him. And, well, here he was - completely pussydrunk, two rounds and a still rock-hard cock later. The only thing on his mind from then on was to not paint your pretty pussy white with his seed, no matter how much he wanted do. 

“Last time, baby. Promise I won’t cum inside.” And then he’s batting this long lashes so unfairly up at you. So fucking beautiful with his dark hair untied, lips swollen, eyes-half-hooded and miles away. And, well, how could you say no to that?

And you’ve barely gotten out your delirious little nod before Choso’s wrapping two strong arms around your waist, pulling you so intimately closer like he worshipped you - while he fucks your hot cunt like anything but. So hard that you knew it would leave marks - your nails on his chest, his balls on your ass, fingers on your waist. 

God, you were squeezing so desperately around him and he just thinks he might just cum right then and there. So fucking perfect that Choso knows he’s never buying another box of condoms ever again. 

“F-fuck, feels s’good. Love having you so deep n’ messy inside me.”

You were going to be the death of him.

“Hngh- fuck fuck fuck, yeah? You like that, baby?” he groans lowly. Abs burning and flexing each time he rams his cock into your tight pussy, absolutely loving the way you were leaking his cum all over the sheets. 

“Shit- I-” 

“Yes, Cho~?”

Face burning in embarrassment, choking pathetically on his words, Choso instead lets his hips do the talking. Strained whimpers of your name leaving him each time he bullies his painfully twitching cock through your plushy walls.

Voice cracking almost-embarrassingly at the end as he rambles, “Oh my god- y’feel so fucking good wrapped around me, baby. Wanna- hngh-” Trying his very best to sound like every cute lil’ whimper didn’t make his thoughts steer into the dangerous territory of how pretty you’d be with his kid. Of a little girl with dark hair and your eyes and-

You. His hips speeding up now, so sloppy with now rhyme or rhythm. How round and glowing you’d be with his kid. You, how everyone would know that he was that ruined your pretty pussy n’ got you this way. You, you, you-

“Wanna cum in this cute pussy, baby.” He finally confesses. Hips getting so messy - mindless, quick little jabs that have you keening on top of him, balls squeezing painfully. “Wanna fill y’up until you can’t take it anymore, fuck you so full until we have a pretty baby. Can I, baby? Please don’t say no please please-”

And at this point all you can do is whine and buck your hips to meet his merciless cadence, letting Choso crane his neck and kiss you senseless. “Fuck yeah. Thought you’d never ask-” you mutter, muffled around where he was sucking on your lips, like they were his favorite candy. “Want you to cum inside me, Cho.”

Well, you didn’t need to tell Choso twice because no sooner have the words left your lips before he’s giving you one harsh thrust. Veins throbbing against your gummy walls, again and again. 

Tears pricking his eyes as he cums with such a guttural grunt of your name. “Gonna have a pretty lil’ girl.” Both white-white pleasure and the image of you and him and his daughter flashing behind his eyes. “She’ll look just as beautiful as you, baby. N’ have your cute smile.”

Your own orgasm is nothing more than a few tingles, overstimulated and limp on top of Choso as stuffs you full of his seed. Thick, white ropes that gushing all the way out of your snug pussy, smearing all over his twitching balls. 

You could get used to this.

And it’s such a heavenly feeling that Choso barely registers his hips moving again, as if on instinct. Fucking mindlessly into you again. Again and again. Gasping, breath hot against your ear. 

“Only one more, baby. Promise.”

♡ RYOMEN SUKUNA - A reward

“F-fuck, woman” Sukuna grunts, fingers so bruising on your hips as you slide down his throbbing erection. Inch by fucking inch, keening at the delicious burn. “Y’act so innocent but you’ve got such a slutty lil’ pussy, huh?”

As expected, the only response he gets is an incoherent babble of agreement. Your eyes watering, drool dripping down the corner of your mouth as you struggle to take him. And his sharp eyes narrow in amusement at the sight of his painfully inexperienced consort’s pretty cunt sucking him up so eagerly. Hips stuttering and leaking your sweet, sweet so sloppily juices all over his thighs.

Humans were always such interesting little creatures.

“Tch.”

Slow ones, too, apparently.

Because immediately, Sukuna’s stuffing himself into your sloppy pussy as far as it would go. Groaning at the resitance, a large hand pumping his cock slowly - enticingly - as he fucks his hips in quick, shallow little thrusts, just to fit himself inside your snug cunt. 

And you needed to breathe in and out maybe, relax your plushy walls, but Sukuna wasn’t going to wait. Why would he? He had his favorite woman - not that he’d ever let you know - sat on his lap, legs spread so shamefully and bouncing on his thick cock.

“F-fuck.” his jaw falls slack ever so slightly, groaning at the feeble resistance against his massive cock. Still only half-inside you but still pushing relentlessly. “S’like your pussy was made f’me, brat. Milking me so well.”

“Shit shit shit- hah- ‘Kuna, feel s’good-” you gasp, thighs quivering with the pressure to meet his rough cadence. And Sukuna huffs out a low laugh at your audacity to call his name, feeling charitable enough today to forgive this transgression. 

Instead toying with your pretty clit, pinching and rolling between his thick fingers, loving the way you buck and squeal his name. 

“Hmm, feels good?” he hums dangerously, amused at your barely-lucid little nod. Fucking into you like his personal fucktoy - his favorite one. “Good ‘nough to give me an heir?”

At this your eyes snap open - but not for long because you just have to screw them shut again with Sukuna finally bottoming out in a quick, harsh thrust. Splitting you apart deeper and deeper on his cock, veins throbbing a maddening little bump! bump! bump! matching your heartbeat. 

You barely have the time to breathe out a sigh of relief before he’s fucking into you. Unforgivingly. Like the monster he claims to be. All the blood draining into his achingly dick at the idea of fucking his cum into you until you couldn’t walk. 

And he tells you - chuckling at the cute lil’ ah! ah! ah! leaving your mouth each time his fat head hits your cervix. “Y’want that, my little slut? To be my cute plaything to breed? Help m’make the next king of curses?”

Fuck, you don’t know if you’re reeling more from the way he was ramming his cock into you or the way he was talking to you in that mean little tone. 

“Mmm- yes! Yes yes yes!”

“Use your words.”

“Wan’-” you hiccup, batting your lashes at him so tearily, in a way that makes Sukuna’s heart thump so strangely. An uneven little beat matching the led rhythm of his hips. “Wan’ your cum- gonna give you a kid.”

So cockdrunk and delirious, you barely register the way he wrestles your arms behind your back, using it like leverage to bounce you harder and harder on his cock. Only looking up at him with such cute lil’ heart eyes as Sukuna uses you as he pleases. 

“Fuck- fuck fuck fuck yeah?‘ he gasps into your open mouth. Teeth latching onto the crook of your neck, biting down right over your pulse. Dangerous. “Gonna make me an heir so powerful. Have him treat you like a queen n’ kill everyone that doesn’t? Ya like that, my lil’ slut?”

“Shit- ah- I want that s’bad, ‘Kuna.”

Knock! Knock! Knock!

And oh how pretty you look, cunt clenching and all surprised at the knock on the door - some lowly human here to beg for their life, maybe. But it doesn’t matter, because Sukuna’s only licks away the big, fat tears streaming down your cheek, hips burning while he breeds you like some animal. Hard, and almost violent.

So it only makes sense that your orgasm was the same, breathless and shaking on Sukuna’s lap while he fill you with his hot seed. Thick and intoxicating. Hips unstopping, just animalistic little movements from such a carnal part of himself. Over and over-

And you’re so fucking drunk off of your lord’s cock that you barely even realize when he’s thumbing your ravaged cunt open. Letting his cum drip all the way down to his gaudy throne, on full display for whoever was about to-

“Come in.”

It’s adorable how you try to scramble off his lap, trying - and failing - to cover yourself up as the door cracks open. 

“Not yet, woman.” Sukuna grasps you in an iron-hold grip, dangerously sharp nails tethering right at your throat and your hips. Starting to drag you up and down on his swollen cock once more with no concern or care for whoever was about to enter. “Gotta make sure it takes.”

It was filthy. 

Completely debauched. And exactly where you wanted to be. You and your lord - and maybe your future heir, too.

♡ GOJO SATORU - Give ‘em what they want!

“Hah- f-fuck imagine- Imagine I fucked the next s-strongest into you right now.”

Oh. 

You knew by the look in his eyes that something was off - that something hadn’t gone well in that meeting with the elders. Really, it was a miracle he attended in the first place, but somehow you had an inkling that this was the type of something that would have you needing a miracle.

That was three hours ago.

And fuck did you need a miracle - because Gojo had you splayed out on top your office desk, his cum spreading in a pool beneath, you throbbing cock stuffing in and out of your snug cunt while you try not to alert the entirety of Jujutsu High about how needy the great Gojo Satoru was being right now.

Gojo’s ramming his swollen dick into your poor, overstimulated pussy like he was drunk off the sight of you all cockdrunk and in a tight mating press. Moaning at the sting of painfully hard erection twitching inside you, and your nails running down his back. 

Not even bothering to let you adjust this time before he’s fucking you again and again and-

You think it’s a bit unfair, really. Because who were you against the strongest? Well, the pretty lil’ wife who’s going to give him his successor, apparently. 

“Shit- wouldn’t that be funny?” he lets out a humorless laugh, wrestling your legs further and further apart. Eyeing the way you suck him up lewdly, “If I made my kid the strongest n’ just wiped these old fossils out?”

“T-Toru- we’ll get ca-”

“Caught? Who fuckin’ cares, they want a Gojo successor n’ they’re gonna get one.”

He’s letting out his frustration in the way he chases both your highs for the - well, you lost count which orgasm it was at this point. Letting you stain all over the expensive desk as he yells out little curses into your mouth.

And oh how you want to kiss that little furrow in his brow, to whisper away his stress - but, no, the only thing getting Gojo out of this bad mood was to fully and thoroughly ruin his girl’s cute lil’ cunt. 

But Toru-” you sob into his open mouth, hips bucking wildly for more. “What if I can’t give you the strongest…” You know you’re babbling deliriously, little insecurities you didn’t even know you had coming to the surface as it really hits you that shit this is your Gojo. And he’s here. And he’s fucking you until he’s sure you’re pregnant.

“Who gives a shit?” he licks away the big, fat tears streaking down your face. Salty on his tongue while he plays with your pretty clit, rubbing quick, tight little circles on it. 

As if to emphasize his point, Gojo brings his fingertips to his mouth with a lewd pop! So blissfully wrapping his lips around them. Darkened blue eyes rolling to the back of his head at the taste - it only spurs him on more. 

Fingers immediately back down on your clit. Frenzied - like he couldn’t wait any longer, like it killed him to not see you cum again. Body bowing into yours, hand digging and bruising on your hips as he holds your filthy pussy still on his cock, 

“Fuck, gonna give it all to you, sweetheart. M’gonna train them to be the strongest n’ protect their pretty mommy.” 

Sloppy, he was so fucking sloppy - such a mess of teeth and spit and pure desire to paint your walls white. 

“Gonna have my eyes, huh? N’ your hair. Fuck they’re gonna regret bringing this up.” Babbling little nonsenses that drove you mad. He sounded so fucking pathetic, crazed with lust. “Ooooh they’re gonna regret it.” Overstimulated enough that it hurt.

Kissing the side of your ankle beside his head, lacing his fingers together to pull you further and further down his rock-hard cock. Sloppy and moving with no rhyme or reason. “Because they fucking hate me. All of ‘em will look at our kid n’ you - so round and pretty and see me. All me.” 

Now, you’ve heard of orgasms that come out of nowhere - ones that have you convulsing and gripping onto Gojo - the desk, his shoulders, his hair. And this was no different. “Ah! Hngh, Toru m’cumming m’cumming oh-”

Delirious, white-hot pleasure cracking behind his eyes, Gojo’s pumping hot thick, hopes ropes of cum into your poor, overfilled pussy. And shit no thrill of taking out the elders could compare to watching the way his seed drips down the side. Slow, and thick, pooling at his quivering balls as he fucks you like an animal. Over and over and-

“Hey, sweetheart, y’think if I cum in you again, they’ll come out twice as strong?”

“...”

A/N. Plagiarism not authorized.

[breezee513]

In honor of A Lost Revenge… Huma, anyone?

[bunnygirlsxicide]

And now, time for some Harry Hook Headcannons

- He smells like pine wood, leather and gunpowder with a hint of cedar and musk

- He’s a massive flirt (obvi)

- He’s not desperate tho (he totally is)

- He YEARNS but yearns in secret

- It’s so easy to get this boys heart thumping like a small little giggle or a brush of the hand would make him all giddy

- Not that he’d ever show that

- He definitely blushes though, especially if you flirt back with him, he’d be so caught off guard and all blushy

- Spontaneous dates

- He’s not really good at the whole planning thing

- He tries his best to be romantic though

- Once he has you he’s never letting you go.

- No wandering eyes

- Maybe a bit of a jealousy issue. If another guy tried to flirt with you, he’d make it known that you’re his.

- Not so casually wrapped and arm around you and swooping in for a kiss that lasts a little longer than it should

- Or tilting your head with his hook and going “tell ‘em whose you are, love.”

- Baking together, you find out Harry’s favorite flavor of cake is Angel cake.

- Baking “together”. You’re baking and Harry’s sitting at the counter watching you with a smile.

- Angel cake inspires the pet name “angel”

- Rage baiting boyfriend.

- He has a shit eating grin every time he does so too.

This is my first time writing headcanons for a character so please be nice :)