kat

the playdate gets set for saturday afternoon, and sukuna seems pretty indifferent to it or at least he pretends to.

“you’re taking yuji to the park?” he asks while scrolling through his phone.

“mhm.”

“so, who’s the kid— or more like, you know their parent?”

“well.. a little?” you say thoughtfully. “toji fushiguro.. i think?”

“…fushiguro?”

you blink. “hm? you know him?”

“used to run in similar circles.” sukuna looks deeply annoyed already. “guy’s a pain in the ass.”

“well.. he seemed nice?”

“that’s because the guy likes pretending.”

you snort. “you’re dramatic, it’ll be fiiine.”

“i’m serious.”

“baby, i’m going to a playground. not a nightclub.”

sukuna looks at you for a long second, then sighs.

“fine, do what you want.”

which, surprisingly, he actually means— he fully intends to let you have your little park day in peace.

because really.. what could happen?

apparently a lot.

because now sukuna’s standing outside a convenience store a few minutes away while staring at his phone with growing irritation.

he just cannot stay at home while knowing you’re out with that damned black-haired man, so he lasts another three minutes before getting back in his car.

meanwhile, you’re sitting at the park bench while yuji and megumi run toward the playground together.

“be careful!” you call after them.

toji sits beside you a second later holding two juice boxes and an iced coffee.

“kid asked me to bring extras,” he says, handing you the iced coffee.

“thanks!”

“don’t mention it.”

for a while it’s easy and comfortable, you talk while the boys play. mostly about school— how both boys have been doing, how megumi apparently refuses to sleep without his stuffed wolf, how yuji always has endless energy no matter what.

“so.. that your kid, right?” toji asks eventually, nodding toward yuji.

you smile. “well no.. but technically my nephew.”

“could’ve fooled me.”

you shrug slightly. “he does feel like my own, though.”

“clearly.”

talking to toji is surprisingly easy, the guys laid back, which is probably why the next thing out of his mouth makes you second guess.

“you single?”

oh..

but before you can even answer, another voice cuts in.

“no, she‘s not.”

you look up immediately.

sukuna stands there behind both of you wearing all black with sunglasses pushed into his hair.

he looks weirdly calm, which means he definitely heard enough to annoy him.

toji glances between both of you once before leaning back slightly.

“oh! what are you doing here?” you say surprised.

“was just getting something to drink.”

“from the park..?”

“eh, crazy coincidence.”

toji snorts quietly beside you— big mistake, because sukuna’s eyes immediately slide toward him.

“fushiguro.”

“ryomen.”

you can absolutely feel the tension in the air.

you look between them slowly. “oh my god.. you actually know each other.”

“unfortunately,” they say at the exact same time.

yuji spots sukuna from across the playground and immediately lights up.

“UNCLE KUNA!!”

he abandons megumi and runs across the grass at full speed before slamming directly into sukuna’s legs.

sukuna just rests a hand on yuji’s head. “now get off me brat, you’re sweaty.”

“we were racing!”

“that so?”

“i won!”

megumi finally walks over, hands shoved into his little pockets.

“yuji cheated..” he says quietly.

“did not!”

“you pushed me!”

you’re trying not to laugh while yuji now clings to sukuna’s arm, and you get up to approach both.

toji watches the interaction for a second, then he looks back at you.

“…damn my bad,” he says finally. “cute little family you got there.”

sukuna goes quiet for a second, then his arm hooks around your waist possessively.

“exactly,” he says. “know where you stand, fushiguro.”

fixing up this series a lil ..

you don’t even pretend to argue anymore. you let him pull you onto his lap, your back tucked against his chest, bare legs swinging off either side of his lap lazily. you’re wearing nothing but one of his giant faded cs department hoodies, and soft cotton panties with little strawberries on them. cute, but definitely not meant to be on display like this. still, you didn’t care much, since your dear roommate has seen you in much less in the two years you’ve lived together.

he wraps his right arm loosely around your waist to keep you steady, chin hooking over your shoulder so he can still see both screens. left hand returns to the keyboard for a second—types a quick comment in his notes file—then drops.

right between your thighs.

his broad palm cups you through the cotton like it’s just another place to rest. warm. steady. completely thoughtless.

you go still, expecting him to notice. expecting it to be a small slip up that he swiftly moves away from.

he doesn’t.

but his fingers twitch once in an absentminded little flex. then his middle finger starts the slowest, laziest drag up the center seam of the soft fabric and your breath snags in your throat.

he keeps scrolling through his code. mutters something about “balancing factor negative two” under his breath, and you realise he’s probably very much unaware of what his hand is up to.

another drag, slower this time. back down, then up again. the pad of his finger catches right over your clit and lingers in tiny, mindless circles. the exact same absent motion he does when he’s thinking hard and rolling the scroll wheel on his mouse, or tapping his spacebar rhythmically.

your thighs quiver. “choso…?” your voice comes out so small it’s embarrassing, but you figure you should probably bring it to his attention.

“hm?” he tilts his head, lips brushing the shell of your ear by accident, but not dropping his attention from his screens. “you okay?”

no. you are so far from okay.

because now he’s switched directions—tiny figure-eights. soft and so so consistent. like he’s doodling in the margins of his notes but the margin is your poor, already-swollen clit. every loop sends little sparks shooting through you, makes your hips give these helpless micro-twitches he doesn’t seem to register as you bite your lips in hopes of holding back any sounds you may make.

he reaches for his coffee with his right hand. he takes a slow sip, hums in approval, and promptly sets it back down.

the circles from his left hand get a fraction tighter, though. then looser again. then he adds the lightest side-to-side brush with two fingers, trapping the sensitive bud between them and just… petting. slow drags. back and forth. tap, tap tap.

a tiny, broken whimper escapes past your teeth. it’s quiet and small, but still enough for him to pause his typing for half a second.

“…cold?” he asks softly, voice all gentle and concerned and almost adorably clueless.

you shake your head, fearing that speaking may release the moan that’s been building in your chest under his stupidly perfect fingers.

“mm. good.” he presses the quickest kiss to your temple—barely there—then goes right back to typing out a recursive function call.

the kisses, the nicknames, those were all things you had gotten used to over the past two years. in fact, he probably picked all of that up from you. this first few times you called him “cho” or “baby” absentmindedly, he’d nearly short circuited. and when he realised you were much touchier than he first suspected, he nearly died on the spot. so he adapted, awkward at first but soon he did all the casual affection stuff without second thought.

but no matter how affectionate he was or you were, there was a line you never crossed.

so did this feel wrong? somewhat. did it feel good? well… yes. were you secretly hoping he’d just keep going? most definitely.

still, his fingers keep playing.

you’re soaked through by now. the cotton’s dark and clinging, and every time he drags over the wet patch there’s this faint, slick little sound that makes your whole face burn. he doesn’t comment. doesn’t even glance down. just keeps fidgeting. keeps treating your throbbing clit like it’s his favorite plush keychain he can roll between his fingers when his brain needs a second to think.

your hands clutch at his forearm. nails pressing little half-moons into his skin, but that only seems to spur him on even more.

“cho—please—”

“one more case study,” he promises in that low, distracted murmur. “then i’ll take a real break. we can watch something stupid. or nap. whatever you want.”

you can’t answer. can only nod shakily and turn your head enough to bury your face in the crook of his neck. your legs are trembling so hard the chair makes tiny creaks. you’re dripping onto the front of his sweats now—making a warm, embarrassing mess—and he still hasn’t noticed. or maybe he has and he just doesn’t care. either way, he keeps that slow, endless rhythm while he does whatever he does.

another tight little circle, and this time your hips buck before you can stop them.

he makes a soft, instinctive soothing noise—the same one he uses when you’re anxious about something dumb like a group project deadline. his arm around your waist tightens, holding you snug while his fingers never falter.

“easy, sweetheart,” he whispers against your hair. “so fidgety today.”

he’s one to talk.

finally, after what feels like three eternities, he leans back a fraction and stretches his neck. and, at last, he glances down at his lap like he’s just now remembering you’re there.

his eyes catch on his own hand. still cupping you and rubbing slow, lazy loops over the soaked cotton. still glistening a little from how wet you’ve gotten.

“…oh.”

the word is quiet. surprised. almost scientifically curious.

but he doesn’t move his hand away.

instead he watches—mildly fascinated—as his thumb brushes once. deliberate, slooow. your whole body jolts with a pathetic little sob.

he blinks slowly and tilts his head. “been doing that the whole time?” he asks, voice soft and wondering.

you nod, cheeks on fire. “u-um… yes.”

“shit. sorry.” but he doesn’t sound sorry. his voice has gone all low and rough around the edges. thumb strokes again—firmer—and your back arches off his chest. “didn’t realize.”

“‘s fine…”

except now he’s studying you now the same way he studies his code. attentive. like you’re the most interesting bug he’s found all night.

his fingers flex—just barely— to add more pressure and then he’s circling again in tiny, perfect loops that make your thighs shake and your breath hitch in needy gasps.

“feels good?” he murmurs, lips brushing your ear.

you can only whimper and nod frantically. it seems that’s all you can do at this point.

he smiles against your skin—small, sweet, tired.

“good.”

and then—casual as anything—he turns back to his screen. right hand finding the mouse again and scrolling through another chunk of code.

left hand still between your legs and treating your poor, puffy, oversensitive clit like the cutest little stress toy he’s ever absentmindedly played with while debugging.

you press your face harder into his neck to muffle the tiny, desperate sounds leaking out of you. your whole body is trembling. so close it hurts. and he’s not even trying—just fidgeting and using you to think better while he works.

“few more minutes,” he promises in a whisper, kissing the top of your head. “then i’m all yours, baby.”

the minutes drag on and on. five more, he said. maybe ten. you lose track because every slow circle of his fingers makes time feel unreal, the ends of your limbs feeling like static. your breathing is all shallow little pants against his neck, thighs trembling, clit so puffy and sensitive under the wet cotton that even the lightest brush makes stars burst behind your eyelids.

but finally, the clicking of his keyboard stops.

his right hand lifts from the mouse. stretches once. cracks his knuckles absentmindedly after putting the monitors to sleep.

then both hands are on you.

one slides up under the hoodie, warm palm resting on your stomach while the other cups your hip carefully. like he’s handling something fragile he’s only just now realizing is precious.

“hey,” he murmurs, voice low and a little rougher than before. “said i’d take a break.”

you make a tiny, shaky sound that isn’t quite a word.

he chuckles—soft, almost shy—and the sound vibrates through his chest into your back.

before you can process it, he’s lifting you. easy, like you weigh nothing to the muscles he keeps hidden under baggy shirts. he turns the chair a little so it faces the desk more directly, then stands just long enough to maneuver you onto the edge of the desk. your butt settles right on the smooth wood, legs dangling off. his textbooks and sticky notes get gently pushed aside with one forearm so there’s room for you.

he sits right back down in his chair and scoots forward until his knees knock against the desk’s legs, close enough that you can feel the heat radiating off him. his hands rest on your thighs—big, warm, a little hesitant now that he’s actually looking.

his eyes drop.

the cute strawberry panties are ruined, soaked dark in the center, clinging to every fold enticingly. the cotton outlines your swollen clit perfectly—puffy and flushed, peeking against the thing fabric like it’s begging for more attention even though it’s already been toyed with for so long.

and choso stares like he’s never seen anything like it before. which, outside of porn, he hasn’t.

his cheeks flush a deep pink that creeps all the way to his ears. he swallows hard. adam’s apple bobbing. “oh,” he breathes. barely audible. “that’s… you’re so…”

he trails off, unable to find the word. just stares some more.

one hand lifts carefully like he’s afraid of breaking you, letting his fingertips brush the damp cotton right over your mound. feather-light until you twitch. a tiny, helpless jerk that makes him freeze.

“sorry—did that hurt?” his voice is all soft panic. eyes flicking up to yours, wide and worried.

you shake your head fast. “n-no. feels… good. just… sensitive.”

he nods slowly, as if to process it. then his fingers return, gentler this time. he traces the edge of the wet fabric with one fingertip, exploring, and follows the seam where it clings to your outer lips. then up again. over the little swollen bud that’s practically throbbing under his gaze.

when you whimper he makes a tiny, involuntary sound in the back of his throat. something between awe and hunger.

“can i…?” he hesitates. glances up again. cheeks still burning. “can i see? properly? please, i promise ill be careful.”

your heart does a ridiculous flip. your eyes nearly twitch too, because how could he possibly say something like that and expect you to act normal.

“shit, y-yes, cho. you can.”

his fingers hook under the waistban and he tugs them down slowly, clumsily. the waistband catches on your knees and his cheeks go bright pink when you giggle at his fumbling. but he get the hang of it, careful as he slips the the rest of the way down, like he’s unwrapping something delicate. the cotton peels away with a soft, wet sound that makes him bite his lip.

and then you’re bare.

spread on the edge of his desk.

glistening. puffy folds parted just enough to show how swollen and slick you are. your clit sits there, flushed and shiny, peeking out like it’s been waiting for him to finally look.

choso exhales shakily.

“fuck,” he whispers, the first time you’ve heard him curse all night. his hands hover for a second, like he doesn’t know where to put them, before they settle on the insides of your thighs. thumbs brushing the sensitive skin there. spreading you just a tiny bit more.

he leans in closer. close enough that you can feel his warm breath ghosting over you as he breathes you in.

his eyes are huge when they glance back up at you, pupils blown with fascination.

“it’s so… pretty,” he says quietly, almost to himself. “so… swollen. did i do that?”

you nod. “y-yeah.”

he swallows again. hard.

one thumb moves tentatively and brushes the very tip of your clit. the lightest touch possible, yet it’s enough to make your hips jolt.

he pulls back instantly. “sorry—sorry—”

“no, it’s good,” you let out a breathy chuckle, forcing yourself to relax. “please—don’t stop.”

he hesitates, but ultimately tries again. slower this time, to make sure he’s doing it right. thumb pad circling the hood—clumsy at first, too light, then a little firmer when you let out a needy whine and he feels you throb. he watches every tiny twitch of your body like it’s the most important data he’s ever collected.

his other hand slides up, index and middle finger spreading your folds gently to open you more. exposing everything to his curious gaze.

he stares at your entrance now—how it flutters just from being watched and having your little clit played with, how droplet of your slick pool before sliding down.

“you’re so wet,” he murmurs. voice cracking a little. “is that… normal? i mean—did i…?”

“yeah,” you breathe. “because of you, ‘s a good thing.”

his blush deepens impossibly, but he doesn’t look away. instead he leans closer. nose almost brushing you. just… breathing you in again, like he’s trying to memorize the heady scent.

then his tongue darts out hesitantly, delivering a quick little kitten lick right over your clit. its over just as quickly, glancing up at you through his lashes to gauge your reaction.

you had let out another sweet whimper, eyes squeezing shut for a moment as you sucked in another breath.

his eyes widen, a little panicked because he can’t quite tell if that was a sound of pain or pleasure. “was that bad? i’m sorry i didn’t ask—”

“good,” you manage. voice wrecked. “so, so good. please—again?”

he exhales, relieved.

then he does it again. slower this time. flat of his tongue dragging up the whole length of your slit—clumsy, eager, a little messy. he groans softly against you at the taste, the sound vibrates right through your core.

his hands grip your thighs tighter. holding you open while he explores. licking in broad, uncertain stripes. then focusing on your clit again—tiny flicks. then slow circles with the tip of his tongue. he’s not good at it yet. too eager. too uncoordinated. sometimes he misses the spot entirely and has to adjust. but every time he finds it—every time he gets that perfect drag—your fingers curl further into his hair and he doubles down.

“like this?” he asks between licks, voice muffled against your sopping heat, head bracketed by your trembling thighs.

“y-yes—exactly like that—”

he hums, pleased, and goes back to it with renewed focus. clumsy but so earnest, trying so hard because he just want to make you feel good. sucking gently—too hard at first, but he adjusts when you give his hair a tug. it’s clear he’s a quick learner, repeating things that draw out the prettiest sound from you or have your thighs clenching, your cunt like the most complicated, beautiful problem he’s ever wanted to solve.

his fingers stay busy too—thumb brushing your entrance now. not pushing in. just circling to feel how you clench around nothing. how you drip down his chin.

he pulls back just enough to look again. lips shiny as he licks them, cheeks flushed, eyes glassy and wide, fluttering whenever you tug again.

“you’re so perfect,” he whispers his revelation. “i didn’t know it could look like this. feel like this.”

“keep going,” you beg. “please, cho—don’t stop.”

he wouldn’t even dream of stopping.

he dives back in—messier now. hungrier. still clumsy. still learning and adjusting, but so focused on you that everything else fades away.

the monitors behind him keep glowing. code still open. midterm still waiting. not to mention the very significant tent in his sweats.

none of it matters anymore.

not when he’s got his face buried between your thighs like it’s the only thing he wants to study for the rest of the night.

You smirk, clicking on the size range, and the shirt is ordered within minutes.

“Hey, baby.” Choso announces when he walks through the door, immediately wrapping his arms around you, “what’re you doing? I missed you.”

You lazily scratch his nape with your nails, letting him rest his bodyweight on you in its heavy entirety. “Just... some shopping. I think you'll like it.”

He perks up. “Show me when it arrives?”

You both know what he’s insinuating, a blush already tinting his face; whenever you buy new clothes, ranging from lacy lingerie straight out of his fantasies to simple jeans, Choso adores watching you try them on for him. He sits there patiently at the end of the bed, like a well trained puppy, and waits for you to come out of the bathroom and twirl around.

More often than not, it results in him whimpering between your thighs- not that either of you are complaining about that particular part of your impromptu fashion shows.

Choso's imagining it already, you can tell. If you aren't telling him outright, it must be something good- not to say he doesn't think you look good in everything (or nothing, he loves that even more) but the way you're smirking down at him makes drool water up in his mouth. Maybe it'll be lingerie you already own in a different colour, he muses, or perhaps it'll be a different style.

You smile, a slight tint of evil mixed into the mirth that Choso’s pretty eyes don’t quite pick up on. “Yeah, of course I'll show you, baby.”

He hums happily and buries his face into your skin again.

The shirt arrives three days later (express shipping does wonders, apparently) and you almost squeal with excitement as you cut the parcel open on the kitchen table, scissors in hand. “Choso! My package arrived-!”

He practically teleports around the corner, eager to see what it is you’ve been hiding from him for the last few days. You can’t conceal the grin on your face as you unfold the black fabric, holding back a giggle as you see his brow scrunch in confusion- surely that’s too much fabric for your size, right? Or maybe you just wanted a new sleep shirt, but why would you when he gives you all of his-?

“For you!”

Choso’s eyes land on the text as you hold the shirt up to his eyeline. “For me…?”

Oh. Ohhh.

He goes pink almost immediately as he reads the words printed onto the fabric. “I am not wearing that.”

“But it’s trueee, Cho!” You whine, “you know it’s true.”

“It isn’t.” He says adamantly, sulking at the shirt like it personally offended him. “I won’t cum if you bully me.” Although, his eyes are already darting away from the words as though he isn't ready to think about it too deeply yet.

You raise a brow, dropping the fabric onto the counter. “Is that a challenge?”

He swallows thickly, “n-no, I’m just saying-“

“Wear the shirt, Choso.”

“I don’t want-“

“Wear. It.”

Something about the tone of your voice, the way your eyes narrow darkly as you glare at him, makes something in Choso instantly obey as he reaches out for the shirt. He doesn’t break his annoyed eye contact as he yanks his own clothing over his head, and you try not to let your eyes drift too far down to the wisps of hair dipping below his belt and the muscle of his abdomen.

When it’s on, fabric new and slightly scratchy against his skin, you smile. “Good boy.”

Choso’s cock twitches in his jeans, but he’s determined this time- he will not let you condescend him into an orgasm, no way.

But he will if you have anything to do with it.

“You’re such a fucking slut, Cho.” You pant above him, thighs firmly planted either side of his lean hips. What better way to test his resolve than to bully him until he cums? You’re just making sure the shoe- or, in this case, the shirt- fits!

He moans wantonly, big eyes swimming with tears as he gazes up at you while you bounce on his cock. “B-baby-“

You don’t hesitate, gripping his jaw with one clammy hand and glaring down at him. meanly. “Shut up.”

He gasps, hips bucking as the whites of his eyes make their debut. He’s still wearing the shirt- you insisted on it- and the fabric is heated below your fingers. It’s almost hilarious, on some strange and perverted plane of humour you like to operate on when it comes to your boyfriend.

Choso is trapped below you, around you, inside you as you use him to prove your point. He’d like to say he isn’t struggling to keep his side of the argument alive, but his mind is quickly getting fuzzier as his cock twitches inside your cunt.

“You’re just sooo pathetic for me, aren’t you?” You breathe out, grasping his face into position. You can feel the physical shake that trembles through his body, his hips lurching up to meet the swift glides of your pussy along his sticky length.

Choso groans, strands of hair sticking to his forehead. “I-“

Slap!

He inhales sharply, cock splurging out a few more rivulets of pre when your palm lands on his cheek. You roll your hips harder, “I didn’t tell you that you were allowed to speak, Cho.”

He gives in, nodding dazedly into your touch as you thumb over the stinging mark your hand left behind.

“Look at yourself.” You spit out at him- literally, a thin string dripping glassily down to his mouth. Choso’s lips are already parted, heaving in gasping little breaths between whines, so it isn’t hard for him to readily take the saliva messily smearing across his lips and lick it up like a dog.

You’d feel terrible for bullying your boyfriend if he didn’t look so pretty as you did so. One cheek redder than the other from your slap, hair completely messy against the pillows, eyes totally glossed over and filling with tears as you bully him to an orgasm.

“Cho…” you coo, voice sickeningly sweet, deliberately slowing your movements to hear the way he groans in protest, “do you wanna cum?”

He nods slowly, movements sluggish. You notice the way he isn’t speaking- clearly, your slap did its job and he’s waiting for permission. “You can speak.”

“Please-“ he begs almost immediately, hands encircling your thighs, hips, waist- any skin he can get to, “please, just let me cum, need it so bad-“

You pretend to ponder on this longer than necessary, until the wait dips over into cruelness and Choso is left throbbing and whimpering against the lack of friction. “I’ll let you cum, if-“

“Anything.” He breathes, trembling as you start to pick up the pace again, “please, anything, just let me-“

“You can’t cum until after I do.”

Choso freezes, expression akin to that of a deer in headlights. You know his favourite thing is cumming at the same time as you, how could you be so cruel? “But-“

“You heard me. Wait.”

And he does, because he has no choice; he has to wait and torture himself with the feeling of your warm body pressed up against his, your heat bleeding into the shirt until Choso feels dizzy.

When you feel your orgasm creep up on you, building slowly, you press your mouth against his for the first time since you started and Choso moans into the kiss like he’s been starved.

“M’so close, Cho-“ you keen against his lips, nipping at the skin only to soothe it with your tongue. The feeling of your cunt pulsing so perfectly around his cock makes Choso cry, a few stray tears slipping saltily down his face.

“Please-“ he heaves, “c’mon, let me cum-“

You relent, nodding once, and the effect is instantaneous. His spine arches up off of the mattress, cock jumping inside you as he spills over in milky strands that streak the skin of your thighs and his pelvis, smearing shinily.

Choso trembles through the aftershock, the shirt clinging stupidly to his chest when you roll off him. You giggle as the text comes into focus again along with the rest of your blurred vision. “I told you the shirt was right.”

He groans exhaustedly, throwing an arm across his still-teary eyes. “Stop.”

“You like me bullying you.” You giggle, voice singsongy in a way that should be irritating but really just makes Choso’s heart melt. “I told youuuu.”

Two arms wrap around you without warning, cramming your face against the shirt. He sighs defeatedly, pressing his mouth to your forehead in a gentle kiss to get you to stop squirming out of his grip and lie still. “You’re mean.”

There’s a few moments of silence, and Choso briefly thinks you’ve fallen asleep on his chest, but then-

“If I’m nice to you, will you cum too?”

ೃ࿔*:･

masterlist

a/n: okay so funny story I actually DID see a shirt with this on a while ago and thought about Choso, so maybe this is a manifestation

tags (open):

your middle finger sliding down to circle your entrance, then back up to your clit. "mmnh..." your hips buck against your own hand. "faster, baby."

you speed up. the wet sounds fill the room, your head falls back against his shoulder, and you feel his breath against your ear. "now two fingers inside, good girl. fill that pretty pussy for me." you slide them in, and the stretch makes you gasp. your walls clench around your own fingers, but it's not enough. it's never enough. you can feel how tight you are, how desperate. "that's it. fuck yourself on your fingers. imagine it's my cock, baby. imagine it's me splitting you open." "ah— ah— hnnggh! professor—" "look at you," he murmurs. "so desperate. such a good student, fucking herself on her own fingers. you'd take my cock just like that, wouldn't you? all desperate and whimpering." "yes! yes!" you're fucking yourself faster now, your hips lifting to meet your own hand. "that's my good girl, play with your clit now. use your thumb. circle it." your thumb finds your clit, and the it makes you cry out. you're so sensitive, so swollen, every touch sending sparks through your body.

"ah—hah! professor! i'm— i'm close—" "good. cum for me, baby. cum on your fingers like the good pretty girl you are." but something stops you, you're right there, teetering on the edge. your fingers pump desperately, your thumb rubs frantically, but you just can't. "i— i can't— nnghhh! " your voice breaks. "i can't without you, professor. please. please, i need your fingers. i need you."

his grip on your legs tightens so hard it might bruise. you can feel how hard he is against your lower back, his cock pressing into your spine. "if i touch you, baby, it's no longer for education. do you understand that? if i put my fingers inside this tight little pussy, it's because i want to. not because i'm teaching you. do you really want that?" "yes," you sob. "yes, i want that. i don't care. please! i don't care about the lesson... hah! i just want you—"

"say it again." "i want you to touch me. i want your fingers inside me. please, professor, please— i need you—" "that's all i needed to hear, babygirl." his fingers slide into you over yours. two of them — thick, massive. he pushes past your fingers, deeper, and the stretch is blinding. you scream, but his other hand clamps over your mouth, muffling it.

"shh, shh," he breathes in your ear, but he doesn't stop. his fingers move inside you with yours, fucking you open. "take it. take it all, baby." "mmmnnnghh! hir— nnnghh!" "that's it. feel how thick i am? feel how your pussy stretches around me? this is what you've been begging for, good girl." his fingers are so much bigger than yours. they fill you completely, pressing against your walls, curling exactly where you need them. and then his thumb finds your clit, presses down, circles. "fuck— ah!.. haaah— professor!"

your legs kick, but he holds them wide, keeps you open, keeps you taking it. you're sobbing against his hand, drool running down your chin, completely destroyed. "that's it. that's my good girl. you're going to cum on my fingers now. you're going to soak my hand, baby. say thank you." "th— thank you—" "louder." "thank you, sir!—"

your orgasm rips through you, your back arches, your head falls back against his shoulder, and you cum hard, your walls clenching around his fingers, your own fingers, everything. your vision whites out. a long, guttural moan tears from your throat as he works you through it, his thumb still circling your clit, his fingers still pumping, never stopping.

"fuck," he mutters, watching you fall apart. "that's it. that's it. good fucking girl. look at you cumming all over my hand. such a pretty sight." when you finally come down, you're shaking. your hand falls away, when he slowly withdraws his fingers, shiny with your cum, and brings them to his mouth. he sucks them clean, one by one, eyes never leaving yours. the sight makes your pussy clench again. "you're a fast learner, babygirl."

⋆ LESSON 2: LET HIM DROWN IN YOU!

his desk is cold against your bare ass. he's cleared it — pushed aside stacks of papers, a laptop, a mug of pens, some students' project folders — and lifted you onto it like you weigh nothing. your legs are spread wide, your heels resting on the edge, your pussy fully exposed and dripping, the papers beneath you are getting wet, but neither of you gives a single fuck.

"you asked me how this would help you learn," he says, his hands gripping your thighs, spreading you even wider. "the truth is, baby, it doesn't." you blink. "what?" "i just want to eat this pretty pussy. i've been thinking about it since the first time you sat on my lap. that sweet little cunt grinding on my thigh. i need to taste it."

"then—" "you need to know what a good eating out feels like. so you know what to expect." he grins against your inner thigh. "but mostly because i can't stop thinking about your taste." and then his mouth is on you. he doesn't start slow. he dives in, tongue flat against your entire pussy, licking from your entrance to your clit in one long, wet stroke. you cry out, your hands flying to his hair. "ah! fuckfuckk! professor!"

"mmmnh— fuck—" he hums against you, and the vibration makes your hips buck. his tongue circles your clit, flicks it, sucks it into his mouth. he pulls back just enough to spit on your pussy — a wet, obscene glob that slides down your folds — and then he's back, spreading it with his tongue, mixing his spit with your wetness.

"that's it. taste so fucking good, baby. sweet, wet and perfect. this is what a good pussy tastes like. remember that." "nnngh!— ah— hnnggh—hiro—" his fingers spread your folds open, and he dives deeper, his tongue pushing inside you. you feel it fucking you, curling, tasting your walls, and you're already so close, your thighs trembling around his head. "cum for me, baby," he says against your clit. "first one. give it to me." "i— i—" "cum. now."

his tongue flicks your clit fast, hard, and you cum with a scream, your back arching off the desk. he doesn't stop. he licks through it, groaning against your sensitive pussy drinking everything you give him. "mmmngh— yes. there we go, good girl. that's one."

your legs are shaking, you think it's over. well, it's not. he goes back in, sucking your clit between his lips, rubbing it with the flat of his tongue. his fingers slide inside you, curling, hitting that spot that makes you see stars. "i can't! — another one— it's too haah! much—" "you can, pretty girl and you will. look at this pussy. she's not done yet."

his mouth descends again, and this time he's rougher. he presses his face hard into your pussy, his nose grinding against your clit, his tongue fucking you deep. he talks to it, low and breathless, his lips brushing against your folds. "such a pretty pussy. so wet for me, baby. you love this, don't you? having your professor on his knees eating you out in his office while others' works get ruined under your wet ass. you love it."

"yes! i love it! oh my go—i love it! professor—" "tell my pussy you love it." "i love it! i love my pussy— i love your mouth on it—" "then cum again, good girl." he pinches your clit between his teeth — just enough pressure, and the second orgasm rips through you. your legs clamp around his head, but he doesn't move. he stays buried in your cunt, lapping at you, groaning against you. "mmmngh. mmnh—" until you're twitching and oversensitive, sobbing from the intensity.

when you finally go limp, he looks up at you. his face is destroyed — wet, shiny, your cum dripping from his chin, his lips, his nose, his eyebrows. he doesn't wipe it off. "one more, baby."

⋆ LESSON 3: GET ABSOLUTELY POUNDED BY HIS BIG COCK

he points to his desk — the lower one, where his teaching assistant usually sits, covered in student papers. "on all fours." you don't hesitate. your palms hit the wood, your spine arches, your ass pushes back toward him, grinding in the air. you're wearing a dress tonight — short, thin, no panties, and you know he can see everything. your pussy is already dripping, your arousal slicking your thighs.

"look at you," he breathes. "soaking wet and i haven't even touched you yet." "please," you whimper. "please, professor, i can't wait anymore! i need you—" "you'll wait until i say you're ready, good girl." he drops to his knees behind you. his hands spread your cheeks apart, and you feel his breath on your cunt, hot and damp. "i've already made you cum twice tonight, remember? on my tongue, on my fingers. so this won't hurt, baby. i made sure you're ready."

"yes— yes—" but his mouth isn't finished. he leans in, licks a long stripe up your slit, and you moan, your arms nearly buckling. "for luck." "professor— i can't! mmnh! i've already—" "shut up and take it." his tongue slides inside you just to try it again. "good girl," he says, standing up. "now you're ready."

he unbuckles his belt, the sound of the metal jingling makes your pussy clench. his trousers drop just enough to free his cock — thick, hard, leaking, the head glistening with pre-cum. he strokes himself, and you watch him over your shoulder, drooling, your mouth open.

"tell me what you want, baby." "i want your cock, professor. please. inside me." "how badly, pretty girl?" "so badly i can't think. i can't breathe. please— i've been so good— i've learned everything— please just fuck me—" he steps forward. the head of his cock presses against your entrance, and you push back, trying to take him, but he holds your hips still.

"slow, baby or it'll hurt. i'm big and you're tight. breathe." "nnnngh... please—" he pushes in, just the head. you scream, but it's late, the building is empty, no one can hear you. he's so big — bigger than you imagined, bigger than his fingers, and the stretch is blinding, burning, perfect.

"breathe, baby. breathe for me." you gasp and he pushes deeper. "ah! mmnghh!!— fuck! professor!" "that's it. taking it. taking all of this cock. such a good fucking girl." he slides in to the hilt, and you feel like you're being ripped apart. his balls press against your clit, and he's so deep inside you that your walls clench around him, trying to adjust to his size.

"look at you," he groans. "taking my whole cock. this tight little pussy was made for me, babygirl." "move— please— move—" and he does. at first he's gentle — slow, deep thrusts that let you feel every inch. his hands grip your hips, guiding you, teaching you. you can feel every ridge of his cock, every vein.

"rock back into me, baby. meet my thrusts. that's it. feel how good it is when you move together." "harder, please! haah! harder!" "yeah? you want me to fuck this sweet pussy proper?" "yes, please!" he slams into you. hard. the desk screeches against the floor. papers scatter. a lamp wobbles and falls. "fuckkkfuck! hiromi!" "that's it— that's my good little slut— take this cock."

his hips pound into you, his balls slapping against your clit. he reaches around, fingers finding your clit, rubbing tight circles. your legs give out, but he holds you up, one arm around your waist, still fucking you, never stopping. "i'm gonna! gonna cum nngh! wanna—" "not yet."

he pulls you up against his chest. his cock stays buried in you, and now he's fucking you from behind, upright, one hand on your hip, one hand on your throat, squeezing just slightly. "you feel that? that's what a real cock feels like, baby. that's what you've been begging for all these weeks." "yes yes! mmmhnah! thank you, thank you professor!" "thank me by cumming. cum on my cock. soak it."

he slams into you, and his fingers work your clit, your head falls back against his shoulder, making you cum with a scream that echoes through the empty building — "ahhh— fuckkk, yesyes, so good! "fuccck, yes— cum for me— cum on my cock." your walls clench around him, and he groans. "nnnnggh— fuckkk— baby mmmnhh— gonna cum, where do you want it?"

"i'm on the pill," you gasp. "cum inside me, professor. please. please, i want to feel it." "yeah? you want me to fill this tight little pussy? you want to walk around campus tomorrow feeling my cum dripping out of you, baby?" "yes! haahhh! pleasepleaseplease!" "gonna! i'm gonna— fuck—"

he slams into you one last time. his cock pulses, and you feel it — hot, thick, flooding you. he groans your name and you feel him twitch inside you as he fills you, his cum spilling deep into your cunt. "fucckkk that's my baby, mmhnh... sweetest pussy, all mine." when he's done, he doesn't pull out. he stays inside you, his forehead resting on your shoulder, both of you breathing hard, sweat-slicked and shaking. lessons completed.

thankfully, as if your professor knew of your suffering, he briefly concludes the last few slides and released you into freedom. while the loyal jay solar system stays close to their sun, you squeeze past them, feeling the freedom of the end of classes.

moving through the masses you pick up some fellow students exited mutters. "yea it's gonna be insane tomorrow. he hasn't been announced anything!"

you almost stop paying attention when another drops the news.

"i mean it's jays fucking birthday, it's bound to be something."

oh god. hell awaits you tomorrow.

if people have been annoying any other day, they will be fucking insufferable tomorrow.

for a second you think of simply not showing up, but then again, you refuse to let this random man affect your studies. this has to fucking stop.

in the end, you should've just stayed at home. the halls were filled with people carrying homemade cakes, birthday cards signed by the entire university being handed around so that not a single person will be left out.

"y/n! come sign real quick." a girl you've never met in your life practically screams and shoves the card into your face.

carefully, you push the card towards her again. "no thanks, him and i don't know each other."

"come onnnn", she whines. "it's jay, everybody knows jay."

that earns her a scoff from you. "well i doubt he'll miss my signature then. he'll be just fine." and with that you move past her. it's honestly baffling to you how people still act like this in university. one would think you'd all be past the idolisation of random people at this age.

a mere 24 hours later tough, despite all the odds, you find yourself within the holy walls of residence of the golden boy.

you had been curious, you can't lie. the invitation had mysteriously found its way into your bag, a fucking qr code staring back at you.

please scan to confirm your attendance.

what did you have to lose? confirm that he's just like the other rich kids and settle this once and far all?

you hadn't put much attention to your outfit, you didn't want to give him even the slightest suspicion of going for his sake.

the place was vibrating with energy and the bass of music. the entire university must be here, what was the need for confirmed attendance?

the plan had been to lay low, observe, confirm your suspicions and disappear again. but jay's eyes had been fucking everywhere. you couldn't even make your way through the first floor without his eyes meeting yours all across the, way too big, room.

next thing you knew, you were locked into his bedroom with him. truly, you don't even remember it happen. there had been a tug on your hand up the stairs, him guiding you through the masses of students, jealous eyes staring at you in disbelief.

something inside of you had snapped the moment you heard the door click, you couldn't believe him.

"the fuck do you think you're doing?" you almost screamed at him and you yourself were surprised at your rage.

jay was fiddling with his hands in front of his chest, broad shoulders shaking with his uneven breath. his mouth opened and closed. opened. closed.

"speak!"

he sighed, eyes darting around the room and you don't miss how his eyes lingered in the corner. you turned your head. the bed. the motherfucker was staring at the fucking bed,

you scoff, grabbing his arm and dragging him across the room. his knees hit the expensive wooden frame, causing him to fall back against the abundance of pillows.

"someone fucking fluffed those up for you before your guest came, didn't they?" you mutter as you straddle him.

as if he wasn't flustered enough, your words flicked a switch in his brain and he only managed a weak nod in response.

"you're so fucking spoiled." you practically spat at him.

and in response he whines. he fucking whines underneath you.

"y/n you're so mean to me." he pouts and it's the most pathetic thing you've ever seen.

"why, because i don't fucking fawn over you when you simply breathe?"

his hands twitch, aching to touch you but he knows you'll just slap them away.

"you never even looked at me. you never went to any of my parties. i've been trying to get your attention since the beginning." he breathes, eyes low lidded and hazy.

you coo, "awww, poor baby. couldn't buy my attention, how mean of me." a fake pout forming on your face.

jay trashes around, hair messily splayed over the pillow. desperate whines keep bubbling out of him, you make him so fucking insane.

"please." he mumbles, head lulled to the side, soft pillow muffling his voice.

"hm?" you question. "please what?"

he scoffs, "let me touch you, feel you. my god anything please, please just let me be inside of you."

and there it finally was.

for a moment you only stared at him, his eyes darting around the room, looking anywhere but your face.

he didn't know what he expected for an answer. a witty comeback, a teasing question maybe. but what he didn't expect, was you just full on laughing at him.

"you think", you manage to get out between giggles "you think that's all it takes for you to get what you want? say pretty please and i jump at you command?"

all jay can do is look at you with wide eyes, but it's not out of hurt. no. he's so fucking horny right now.

"please." he chokes out, rapidly blinking up at you. "please y/n i promise i'll make you feel good."

"hmmmm, what to do what to do..." you say with a roll of your hips against his. he hisses, sensitive cock throbbing underneath his tailored slacks.

"fuck, don't tease me i'll fucking cum in my pants."

the moment those words leave his mouth, he immediately starts to regret them. especially when he noticed the sparkle in your eyes.

"oh how awful." you pout down at him, index finger slowly slipping underneath his shirt and trailing down his torso.

you felt each and every abdomen muscle flex under your touch as his breathing starts getting heavier and heavier. but what really gets you is the sight of him when your eyes dart back to his face.

his jaw slack, eyes fixated on your fingertip: the man was utterly at your mercy.

a small chuckle leave you and you lean in to hover over his face, fingertips still ghosting over his skin.

"so responsive, hm?" you whisper in his ear and he shudders at your closeness.

with dreadful slowness your fingers travel down his abdomen, tracing every rig of his toned body.

jays eyes travel down and you grab his face. "nu-uh." you tut, index finger softly caressing the line of his jaw. "eyes on me, pretty boy."

you don't quite know where this part of you is coming from. before today, you would've imagined yourself to be in his position, not the opposite. but you refuse to give him power over you right now, not after him acting like a spoiled brat, despite the fact he showed off only for you to notice him.

after excruciating seconds, your hand started playing with the waistband of his boxers, careful fingers slipping beneath it. his hips buck involuntarily and he sighs out of frustration of his erection being exposed to the cool air.

ever so slowly you move your along the elastic band, other hand pulling his slacks down and inching closer to his throbbing cock. the sound of his frantic breathing music in to ears. but you refuse to give in this easily and make the band suddenly snap back against his skin.

a strangled moan escapes him and his eyes close shut, brows furrows. "fuck, please y/n."

"who knew you could beg this sweetly?"

"could've shown you ages ago baby, you never fucking looked at me though."

you smile at his witty remarks, despite his already fucked out state.

"can't have the birthday boy wait much longer then can't i?".

he frantically starts nodding; god he's absolutely pathetic and it's the hottest thing you've ever seen.

your lips replace your fingers along his waistband, teeth nipping at his skin. he twitches in response and you press his hips back to the mattress. "stay. or i'll stop."

his hands fist the sheets and he throws his head backs in frustration.

you start placing open mouthed kisses all over his boxers, careful to avoid where he wants you most. though that doesn't stop you from "accidentally" nudging his cock with your nose through.

"oopsie." you giggle, placing a kiss on the spot and he hisses.

"please, i need your mouth on me so fucking bad." his voice is raspy, filled with need and desperation.

you're not letting him get his wishes that easily though.

with one smooth motion, you lick his length from base to top, teeth grazing the fabric. you feel his legs flex, but he refrains from moving much.

"hmmm, good boy." you praise, pressing another kiss to his clothed tip.

he jerks again at the petname and you notice the faint red staining his cheeks.

"awwww, pretty boy blushes at the slightest form of praise."

your words only intensify his embarrassment, one hand covering his face, one that you instantly remove.

"absolutely not. you've been acting like an attention whore all along, you don't get to hide now."

he scoffs, little high pitched noise bubbling out of his throat. if he wants to play brat you just have to put him back into his place.

not giving him time to fix his attitude your teeth are on him, but not nipping at his skin. no, your teeth sink into the sensitive flesh of his, still clothed, tip.

tortured moans fill the room, his hands flying down to swat your head away.

"i'm sorry, i'm sorry, please- ngh, i'll be nice now i promise."

you take his hand into his, intertwining his long fingers with yours.

"mhm, you better." you murmur back, as you free his cock from his precum stained boxers. the cool air made him hiss, head thrown back in both pleasure and pain.

slowly, you wrap your free hand around the base of his length, gliding it up at down at an almost cruelly slow place.

the moans that spill out of him were almost pornographic, low guttural ones mixing with high pitched whines.

deciding that he's suffered enough you start kitty licking around his tip, swirling your tongue around it.

his hips buck and he immediately whines. "i'm sorry, i'm sorry, i'm sorry you just make me feel so fucking good."

you place him fully in your mouth, humming softly at his pleas. he tugs at your still intertwined hand and you squeeze back, reminding him that you're the only in control.

it doesn't take much for jay to get close, a few bobs of your head, not even having to take him down your throat and he's panting like a dog.

"fuck, fuck y/n please, can i cum? please i want to come so fucking bad." you couldn't help a giggle escape you, the vibrations only making him moan back at you even louder.

you pick up the pace, hand squeezing the base of his cock your mouth hasn't reached yet.

his moans turn into full on squeaks, head moving from left to right, legs twitched besides you.

"i'm gonna cum, fuck." he breathes, as his torso curved forwards, eyes forced shut and mouth wide open. he squeezed your intertwined hands so tightly you were sure all circulation was cut off for a second.

warm liquid filled your mouth and he slumped back onto the mattress, taking deep breaths to recover from his high.

"you're fucking insane, you want me to fucking die." he murmurs, eyes locking with yours.

sitting upright again, making sure he sees you swallow all of his release as you fix your hair. "someone's got to put you in your place eventually." you smile back at him sweetly.

"don't stop now then."

you cock your head at his words.

"touch me again, i'll do whatever you want from me." he rasps, not a single trace of uncertainty on his face.

"you have a crowd of people downstairs, desperate for your attention. meanwhile you're begging for a simple touch, don't you think that's a little pathetic of you?"

"i don't fucking care about them." he spats out. "i'll send them home for all i care. heck, i'd let you do this in front of them all. let them see you're all i want."

your heart stutters a little at that confession. until now this was teasing, pushing some boundaries, but you're starting to truly believe he was serious.

" 's that so? what a sweetheart you are, park."

"you fucking ruined me." he continues. "you're on my mind all the time, i can't focus on anything. nothing matters as much as being around you."

you scoff. "what happened to just talking to me. we've never exchanged a single word until today."

"i was scared, okay?" his eyes dart away from yours. "i'm not used go people not wanting to be in my vicinity. i thought you hated me."

a wave of emotion hit you, one that you couldn't quite place. sure, you avoided him because you were annoyed at this golden boy status, but you did assume things before actually having had a proper conversation with him.

"i never hated you." you whisper back.

he scoffs, "well you weren't quite fond of me."

"true, but i was more annoyed and irritated than anything else."

to that he only hums. his hands fidget and you hesitate for a moment before taking them into yours. you don't say anything and simply put them on your hips.

"if i'd hate you that much would i get you a birthday present?"

"huh?" jay looks at you, utterly confused and before he knew it he witnessed you removing your top.

"never seen tits before?" you chuckle at him — he looked like he'd just seen a unicorn walk into the room.

"no, i mean yes...uh, not yours tho." as soon as his words left him he cringed at himself. "gosh i sound pathetic."

not in your wildest dreams would you've imagined having your tits be this intriguing, let alone to jay.

"mhm, maybe a little. its cute though."

his head shot up at that and you laugh.

"you're so eager for praise, don't u get enough as is?" you tease.

"this is my first time getting it from you," he mumbled, "cut me some slack."

your hands travel up his torso, tracing little shapes and roaming mindlessly. " gonna let me have some fun with you? what'ya think about that?"

jay only manages a nod and you don't fail to notice the now faster moving rise and fall of his chest.

"well, get naked then park."

in record time jay tugs off his shirt, carelessly throwing it around the room. there flies a random 400 dollar shirt.

"you don't take care of your stuff well do you?"

he props himself up by his elbows, "not when i have to take care of you first."

you raise your brow at that, eyes slightly squinting down at the man looking up at you as if you were on ocean in the sahara and he's been wandering for weeks to find it.

"you sure you're not all talk, park?"

a sly smile spreads on his face. "feel free to punish me if you're not satisfied" he shoots back.

game on.

jay's eyes never left yours when you removed the rest of your clothes and you don't miss the swallow after he saw the pretty white panties you wore, eyes following it flying towards his previously discarded slacks.

"real price is here." you mutter, taking his chin into your hand to make him look at you again.

jay didn't know where to look first. having you completely bare on top of him seemed to have fried the last remaining braincells he had. up and down his eyes flickered, from face to tits to pussy.

"jesus christ you're gorgeous." he says, voice so breathless it almost sounded comical.

you hum, positioning your hips right above his.

with excruciating slowness you lower yourself, carefully watching how he switches from low lidded, lust filled to screwed shut eyes and sharp hisses.

"fuck, fuck more please." he chokes out and you pause, only halfway down his length. giving him what he wants easily was not on your list.

you reach your hand down, fingers wrapping around the base of his cock and squeezing. and my god; the sounds that spilled out of him were heavenly.

"please, oh my god don't tease me i'll be so good i promise," he rasps, looking up with you with glassy eyes. cute.

hand moving away from his cock, you place it against his stomach, spreading yourself as you continue to glide down on him.

"jesus you're so wet, you're so fucking perfect oh my god."

you chuckle. you don't even need to speak and he's babbling.

"pussy got you talking sweet to me, huh?" you tease and he whines.

"just don't want you to stop, please don't stop."

deciding you won't torture him much longer you drop your hips with one quick motion and you both gasp. you underestimated just how deep he'll be inside you now.

you had to take a few deep breaths, writhing jay underneath you absolutely losing his mind at the feeling of being hugged by your gummy walls.

"holy shit, move," he pleads, "please, please move i'm gonna go insane."

you slowly start rolling your hips. god did he feel good inside of you. you've heard people praise this man into the ground but surprisingly never heard much of his sex life and his performance. even if, you doubt that they could've prepared you just how feel he fits inside of you.

"come on", he chokes out between gritted teeth, "make yourself feel good on me, use me."

you throw your head back, hand gripping onto his shoulders. his hips buck up to meet the circling of your hips and you gasp, walls clenching around him.

"fuck, you're so fucking pretty angel. can't believe you're letting me see you like this."

one would think jay has met god in person and to him it feels like it. you're his god now, he's willing to devote his entire life to worshipping you.

" 'm never letting anyone have you again. say you're mine now."

you laugh breathlessly. "is that your way of asking me to be your girlfriend, park?"

"if you rather me asking when i'm not balls deep inside you i'll take you on the best date of your fucking life tomorrow, pretty" he shoots back.

"gonna show you that these fucking losers you've been giving chances could never love and spoil you like i did." sharp pain interrupts on your hips as he digs his fingertips into the plush flesh.

"i got so fucking annoyed at that girl who played you. fucking loser, just like that guy who forgot the right time of your first fucking date."

he remembered. he remembered them all; and you didn't quite know how to feel. your heart swells as your walls clench around him again.

"should've just fucking talked to me then," you manage to moan out. "could've been yours since the moment you wanted."

at your words he pulled your hips down even closer against his, his cock hitting your sweet spot just right and you gasp, falling forwards. encouraged at your reaction, he pushes you back upright again, hips snapping upwards at a relentless pace.

high pitched, almost squeaky moans spill out of you, hands gripping onto anything that could offer some stability. but jay hasn't had enough, he needs you as desperate for him as he is for you. his thumb finds your clit, rubbing tiny calculated circles on it.

"fuck, jay holy shit oh my god, don't fucking stop."

"not so cocky anymore, huh princess?"

you laugh, "fuck you. you're not any better."

"gotta get an answer out of you don't i?"

"yes", you whine "yes i'll be yours, fuck, oh my god you're so big."

his ego boosted and he sits up slightly, lips wrapping around you nipple, giving it a few sucks. you moan in response, back arching forwards as he kitten licks around it before moving to the other.

" 'm so close." your voice barely even noticeable.

he hums, mouth still on your breast before releasing it with a small pop. "let yourself go pretty, hm? make a mess on my cock, come on."

your hips now match his frantic movement, the pressure of his finger against your clit, cock drilling into you, almost making you see stars.

jay is as much of a mess as you are, hair stuck to his forehead, pupils blown wide and fixated on your pussy.

"jay-"

"i know, pretty, me too."

without thinking you fall forwards, lips crashing into his. he gasps, hands moving from your hips to your waist to pull you closer. it was barely considered kissing or making out, the two of you were practically devouring each other alive. tongues clashed in fight for dominance, both of you too stubborn to back down and admit defeat.

two more thrusts and you feel the warmth in your stomach drop, thighs clenching and pussy swallowing his cock. white coats your vision and you go limb as you feel jay stiffen up underneath you, a mix of groans and whines filling your ears.

you feel his heart beating through his chest, messy rhythm matching yours. two large hands find your waist as he starts dragging his fingertip up and down your sides, involuntarily tickling you.

"you're so fucking cute." he mumbles sleepily as you try and doge his touch.

your eyes meet his, heart stuttering at his fixated gaze on you.

"you're not too bad yourself i guess," and he laughs, hips bucking up, cock still burrowed deep inside you, nudging your sweet spot for a second.

involuntary you squeak in surprise, slapping his chest lightly and squeezing his cock with your walls in response. he moans back, wide smile spreading on his face.

"feisty girl you are." he beams, connecting your lips with his. this time it's not as fiery, no clashing of teeth and messy tongues. no, it was gentle and deliberate.

lips still connected, you rolled you on your side, cock slipping out of you and you gasp at the emptiness. you gasp instantly swallowed by him he deepened the kiss, one hand leaving your waist to softly cup your cheek.

"you still standing with the answer you gave earlier?" he whispers against your lips and you hum.

"nu-uh," he pulls back and you whine, "use your words."

you squint at him, "don't you use my words against me, park."

at that he only laughs, pressing a few kisses on your cheeks. "forgive me, but i can't have you thinking i'll let you be in control all the time."

"oh please," you scoff, "you were literally begging for me a few minutes ago."

"and i'll do it again, but next i'll have you begging baby."

he smiles and for a moment you forgot how you hadn't been charmed by him the moment you saw him.

"let's see if you're not all talk then, birthday boy. make a wish."

ʟɪɴꜱ ɴᴏᴛᴇ: happy birthday daddy, you getting fucked tonight 👅

ᴛᴀɢʟɪꜱᴛ: @saeivra @shawnyle @kookiesnkim @itsnotawrongnumber @shaiimuraaa @yelihusband @chaebbys (comment or send me an ask if you want to be tagged or removed <33)

ʜᴏɴᴏʀᴀʀʏ ᴛᴀɢꜱ: @jaylaxies true royalty in this tag section im shaking in my boots typing this