Riah

Satoru had paid him a ‘nice’ little trip after that, and threatened him so much he’d pissed his pants. Satoru had chuckled at just how pathetic that boy was, but really you were much better off without a cheating asshole. Even though he knew you were currently staying at this coffee shop – your car hasn’t left it – he did all this for your own good, really.

It was way past time for him to have you for Christmas, filled with his pretty white cum, he’d give you so much of it too, in all your holes. He’d decorate you in Christmas lights and tie you up, make sure you never left – why would you though, when you finally were his? You’d never have to work this shitty job again, he would keep you so full of cum you’d have trouble walking anyway.

The thoughts alone make his cock twitch underneath his slacks – he really should feel just a bit sick and depraved for his thoughts, but weren’t they sort of pure? Didn’t he just want to give you a perfect white Christmas?

“What’s wrong?” He asks, feigning confusion but not concern.

Of course he was upset you were hurting, even though you’ll be so much better off soon. God don’t you deserve it?

“Bad breakup ugh, I think I’m not getting enough sleep,” you mumble, handing him his warm coffee cup then, steam rising in a puffy little cloud. “Please take this free, for me just sobbing like this.”

“No way,” his fingers brush yours now, you gasp just a bit at the connection, before blushing right under his gaze.

Fuck you’re pretty.

“Are you okay honey?” Your boss comes to you, a hand on your back, you nod quickly, swiping tears. “She’s just having a rough Christmas.”

“How so?” Satoru asks, leaning on the counter, elbows propped up on the glass, setting his cup down.

“Please you don’t have to listen to my fucked ass life lately, I’m sure you have work to get to.”

“I run my own company, sweetheart,” you and your boss swoon at his little smile. “So I have time.”

“Why don’t you get a coffee with him?” Your boss nudges you just a bit, you frown at her.

“Are you sure?”

“Go ahead, sit for a bit,” she makes you a cup. “I’ll take over.”

“You’re too good to me,” you murmur, she just pats your back, and you nervously look at Satoru, clearing your throat now. “Do you wanna sit for a few?”

“Of course, I have time, Christmas is dead at the corp.”

“You do marketing, right?”

“Mhm, thrilling shit,” you giggle a bit, melting him like the snow that’s left little wet drops on his coat. Your cute, puffy eyes and nose just a little rubbed raw clearly, he can tell you’ve been crying over that trash.

He can’t wait to make you feel so good.

“No one wants to buy anything so things are slow, it’s kind of just hanging out at the office right now,” he leans back, sipping the drink, letting the sweetness hit his tongue and moaning. “You make the best coffee.”

“No way!”

“Mhm, it’s why I come, also…” he trails off with a little smile.

“Also what?”

“Pretty baristas make my morning better.”

“Oh, not me right now,” you’re a flustered mess, brushing back your hair now, sighing. “You’re sweet though.”

“Am I?” He certainly isn’t thinking anything sweet, no he’s imagining if your cum tastes as good as this cream in his coffee.

“Very, ah where do I begin?”

“I guess why you’re crying, I’m a good listener,” his knees brush against yours under the little table, you look out at the snow for a moment, sighing.

“I may have gotten kicked out and broken up with.”

“Ouch, on Christmas?”

“Yeah,” you grimace, sipping your coffee, feeling the bitter beans coat your mouth in warmth, looking back at Satoru’s handsome face. “It’s like some shitty hallmark movie, I’m staying here till I get a new place.”

“At the coffee shop?” He blinks just a bit, you frown, nodding. “Well, then I have a Christmas gift.”

“What’s that?” you set the cup down, he pulls out his phone now, showing you a picture with a little smile. “Is this…”

“My pool house, I was just putting it up for rent. My friend lived there for a bit and moved out, so I was gonna see if anyone wanted to rent it out, it’s three bedrooms and fully furnished.”

So his poolhouse was bigger than your apartment – three times as big as you flipped through the photos.

“This is just your poolhouse?”

“Yeah, this is my house,” he swipes right to a literal fucking manor. “Pretentious, I know, the family home blah blah.”

“No it’s beautiful,” you hand him back the phone, frowning a bit then. “The thing is, I spent all my damn money on this guy, I do have an advance, but no way I could afford that.”

You were getting a whole different degree after over five years of college, and you’re another two years in. You feel you’re the only twenty five year old starting all over, but you just hated what you majored in – thus the barista job. You’re literally a walking cliche, and here is this rich CEO being way too sweet.

“Maybe like when I graduate I could afford-”

“I’ll give you crazy cheap rent,” he wouldn’t charge you a fucking dollar. “Like just whatever you can pay comfortably.”

“What?” You blink now, gasping. “Why?”

“Why not help out? I wanna be on the nice list and all,” he smirks just a bit, far too charming, fucking you up with that look. “It’s Christmas, you shouldn’t be staying in a coffee shop.”

“I don’t know how I’ll repay you, though.” You blink back tears now, Satoru’s hand brushes one aside gently, a cool touch on a heated cheek.

God he could think of many ways, you on your knees for him, the weight of his cock on your tongue, sliding in and out of that pretty, perfect mouth. You bent over his desk, letting him pump his loads into you, before he fingers them right back in your cunt, making sure to keep it in, breeding your perfect pussy.

“You can make me coffee at my place every morning,” he says softly, snowy lashes flickering just a bit across your face. “Maybe cook me a real Christmas Dinner, I haven’t had one in a long time.”

“I can absolutely do that!” You smile all big and pretty – Satoru will send the cooks away for a bit, just to see your cute little ass in the kitchen.

God, imagine when you’re round with his babies, you’ll be so perfect.

“Then it’s set, I’ll help you move your things tonight.”

“It’s not much,” you admit, frowning now. “Like clothes, laptop, a couple things… I can just um… bring em in my car.”

“Whatever’s easier, I’ll meet you there at five, here’s the address,” he jots it down on one of the napkins, handing it to you with his number on it.

“I don’t know how to thank you enough.”

“Just consider it a Christmas gift, mmkay?” He stands now, and you eagerly get up, hugging him before you can stop yourself, feeling his hard body against yours, his heart racing in his chest underneath your cheek. His hand comes to your back.

He smirks.

Things are working perfectly.

*****

“You don’t have to do all this,” you get emotional that night, when Satoru shows up with the cutest Christmas decorations.

The first night there was him showing you around, he was so sweet when he came to you with a huge tote, covered in lights and little ornaments and even a little mini tree. He’s got this cute little santa hat perched on one side of his head, he’s changed into this soft sweater and dark jeans after work instead of the suit you usually see him in.

You’d never guess that he was bringing you little things to spy on you.

“Nonsense,” he says, setting up the little tree and giving you a devastatingly attractive smile. “A place needs a little Christmas spirit, also I have so much just sitting, really.”

You help Satoru meticulously place each ornament, shoulders brushing each other, making you heat up a bit from the nerves. The pool house is warm, there are soft cinnamon candles he had the maids bring over and light when they cleaned the place just for you today.

This shit can’t be real – maybe you’ve hit your head watching a dumb Christmas Rom Com and so happened to dream him up. He smiles over at you, his eyes a myriad of blues, flickering candles reflecting in his pupils, lighting them up and making it so intense you can hardly breathe. Both of your hands reach for the same decoration, making you pause and pull back.

He picks up a delicate, hand painted crystal decoration, holding it up just a little bit. “That’s like a Tiffany!”

“Mmm, I guess,” he shrugs, not realizing all these damn ornaments are just insanely expensive. “This one can go right here. I have a few others too. Look, this is Frosty.”

Your eyes light up so pretty when he shows you the cute plush little snowman, you take it and smile, brushing your fingers across the soft white fur. “He’s so adorable, oh my god.”

“You can put him in your room if you want,” he mentions casually. “Or we can put him on one of the shelves.”

“No way, he’s too cuddly,” you hug him tightly, smiling at Satoru then. “Ah, thank you so much!”

“You can keep him too,” you’re looking right at that little camera in the snowman’s black eyes, oblivious, working perfectly to his plan.

Imagine getting to watch you touch yourself.

He’s got another little Santa, another camera, it’s like everything lined up so perfectly – you and him.

 He walked over to a small shelf on the wall, putting that Santa right there, smiling and feeling your gaze penetrate his back. You’re sitting on the arm of the couch when he turns back around, legs crossed at the ankles, hugging on to the little snowman closely.

You’re so perfect like that.

It takes a lot to play a slow game, to make you need him, to make sure he takes his time even with you here. But not sinking to his knees and worshipping you seems almost a cruel joke – isn’t it what you deserve? Instead he walks over to you, tilting your chin up just a bit.

“How are you doing?” He asks softly.

“This morning I was crying my eyes out, sleeping on a couch, now I’m here. It feels like a dream.”

“Good dream?” You smile at that, his fingers feel too good on your skin, you almost hate it when they drop.

“Very, but I guess I am really nervous. How to pay-”

“Don’t say pay me back, please,” you bite down on your lower lip, as he tucks a strand of hair behind your ear, goosebumps rise from just that, your body reacting to his little ghosts of touches.

“You should get some rest, you went through a lot today.”

“Yeah, that bed looks so comfy oh my god,” he chuckles just a bit.

“You’re so cute.”

“Nah. Maybe after a good night’s rest and a good bath.”

“Well feel free to anything, I’m right over there if you need me, yeah?” You nod, he leans down and for some insane moment you wonder if he’ll kiss you, but instead he just stands and smiles. “Good night Sweetheart.”

“Night, Gojo.

He leaves quietly without another word, the front door clicking shut, you hug that little snowman tightly to you. Even after you bathe and dry your hair, you can’t help but hold on to him, peering at the phone now, you look up your ex’s socials out of a morbid curiosity – just to find him taking Christmas pictures with another girl.

You glare at that screen.

He just broke up with you, how is he in matching pajamas? Unless… unless he had her the whole time.

“Shit.” You turn off your phone, you’ve cried so much there aren’t any more tears now, just burying your face against this cute snowman Gojo gave you.

Satoru Gojo, the man who’s literally like some Christmas Miracle, just who was he, and why was he so kind?

*****

The next morning, you remember Satoru bringing up making his favorite drinks and meals, so you cross the snow-dusted lawn to the main house. It was even more beautiful in the daylight, bright and modern, so big it’s insane to think he’s all alone in there, but you suppose that’s just what he’s used to. You find the key under the mat where he’d said it would be, nervously letting yourself in.

You feel a bit like some intruder, but you’d love to surprise him as a thank you, tomorrow was Christmas Eve and you didn’t exactly have anything to give your new… landlord? Is that what he was?

What was Satoru really?

You take in the bright, ridiculously clean home and shut the door behind you, leaving the chill outside, walking towards the kitchen. That alone was a chef’s dream, all marble counters and stainless steel, he has three fucking ovens – what do you even do with three ovens.

“Holy…” You trail off a bit, taking in your surroundings, peeking around each pretty white cabinet to find coffee. You feel even more like a damn intruder, ransacking his things, but he had said ‘make yourself at home’. Oh, he said sweetheart too, as if to wreck your ovaries.

You think Satoru threw you from depression into ovulation with that little tilt of your chin last night.

You grind up expensive coffee beans you find in the pantry, the scent making you feel like you’re right back at work. Sighing at how good it smells, you get to work making him the perfect cup. Then you get hungry, and find an almost empty fridge – he has a full deep freezer of various ice cream cones and flavors but hardly any real food.

How does he keep a body like this when all you proceed to find is candy and junk food all over?

It’s almost endearing, as put together as he seems, it’s a little hint of a bachelor pad, but you do find eggs and pancake mix.

“That’ll work…” You start whipping up fluffy pancakes when he comes out, leaning against the doorframe of the kitchen, staring right at your pretty little ass in those leggings.

You, in his kitchen.

Making him breakfast?

He bets that loser never appreciated something this sweet, but he sure the fuck did, watching in awe almost as you whip your little arm around, the pan already sizzling with oil. 

“Well, well,” you turn and then gasp, he smiles over at you, shirtless with just soft sweats on, your eyes drift down before you stop yourself. “What do we have here, are you makin’ pancakes?”

You felt a blush heating up your cheeks – god his body was perfect, hair a little messy from his sleep, his eyes lidded with a lazy smile. “I hope you don’t mind me like… breaking in? I wanted to thank you for everything, so I thought I’d at least make you breakfast.”

He walks over to you, saunters is the word, those v cuts on his hips and that silvery happy trail fucking you up, you swallow nervously as he comes to stand right in front of you.

“Do you like pancakes?” You manage to ask, he smiles, leaning down a bit.

“I do,” he reaches down, his thumb brushing a smudge of batter from the corner of your lip, making you gasp. He brings his thumb to his own mouth, his eyes locked on yours as he slowly licks it clean, smirking at you. “Delicious.”

Fuck.

Fuck was that!?

Your breath catches in your throat, you swipe a now clean corner of your mouth where you’d tasted the chocolate chip batter, feeling that gaze ruining you. He’s so close you feel the warmth of his body, your heart hammering in your chest so violently it feels like it’ll burst out. His hand falls now, seeing the pancake turning golden in the cast iron pan.

“Oh!” You quickly flip it, exhaling in relief that it’s not burnt. “I made that coffee too for you!”

“Looks perfect,” he smiles and takes the cup, blowing on it for a moment all casual, as if that moment was something normal.

Licking his thumb making you think of the most obscene, lewd things.

“Thank you sweetheart, I could get used to this treatment,” you smile back at him, trying to act normal.

“Well I’ll gladly do it every morning, not like I wasn’t for… much less deserving people,” you grumble now, he frowns at that. “You don’t need to hear my bullshit.”

“I have a few before work,” he sips his drink and sits as you put a pancake and a bunch of syrup all over it. “God, they’re so good.”

“Oh thank you!” You sit next to him now, settling in the chair and sipping your own drink.

“No thank you,” he laps at his lower lip with a long pink tongue you just shouldn’t fucking look at really, clearing your throat with a little smile. “Did he contact you?”

He better fucking not have.

Satoru paid him off well enough.

“No, no, he’s got these fucking matching pj pics on IG, the little shit,” Satoru grimaces.

“Well that’s just shitty, I’m sorry…”

“I’m just glad I did end up leaving,” you swipe a little syrup dripping on his chin now, licking it, watching his eyes dilate. “Mmm, yum.”

Fuck. Are you trying to ruin him?

“Tomorrow I have friends coming over for Christmas Eve,” he says then, gripping your wrist now, thumb trailing the underside of it. “I’d love you to come over too.”

“Oh but won’t it be so weird?”

“Not at all, they’re kind of my family.” You blush once more, looking down. “I’m guessing yours is distant?”

“Yeah, they are…” Satoru already knows. No dad, your mom seems to have nothing to do with you, and no siblings he could find anything on.

Satoru will give you a family though, he thinks it as his gaze drifts to your stomach, smiling just a bit imagining how pretty it will be round.

“I’d love to come over.”

“Perfect.”

That night after work back in the pool house – you couldn’t sleep. The memory of his touch, of the look in his pretty blue eyes, that damn tongue licking his thumb that way? It was fucking you up in all sorts of ways, every casual touch or close proximity to Satoru was sucking your breath away, until you couldn’t even remember how you got here.

Your ex wasn’t even in your mind whatsoever, not right now, no it was just Satoru flitting through your head, images of him, feelings and touches. Tonight he made sure you ate dinner with him, in his immaculate house that just smells like him, hints of that expensive cologne, something soft and sandalwood that you can’t quite place.

That cologne is in your senses too, you can practically smell Satoru on everything somehow, even this soft weighted blanket he’s got you, the image of his shirtless frame was burned into your mind. Your cunt is wet when you think about it too long, it’s been a while since you had cum.

But here, thinking of him?

You feel so wrong doing it, but you’re already aching and needy, imagining more – his fingers inside of you, fuck they’re long. His lips… just all over your skin. That tongue…

You slip your hand beneath the waistband of your pajama bottoms, your fingers finding the slick heat of your own cunt, touching a clit already pulsing and gasping out at it. You close your eyes, imagining it was his hand, his long, thick fingers brushing your clit right now, making you jolt, the blankets slipping off of you, as you’re overheated.

You feel it, warmth spreading all over, running circles on your swollen clit and whining out, it’s not enough, eyes fluttering shut now, picturing his face hovering right over you. Hadn’t you always found Satoru devastatingly attractive? So much so you avoided looking too long at those piercing blue eyes before, always looking down quickly.

The way he looked at you.

Was it all in your imagination, was it just him and no interest in you? He probably just wanted to help, to be a kind person, give back or some shit – and you’re shoving two fingers in your own gummy walls, contracting and squishing so tight.

“Ah!” You want longer ones, that hit your spot you’re trying so hard to, palm grinding on your clit, remembering the way his tongue had swept across his thumb. “Mnh!”

You’re pumping faster now, arching your hips, your other hand gripping those sheets beneath you, soft gasp escaping your lips as you press up on that little spot in your hole, the pressure building in your tummy. You shouldn’t be thinking of his cock and how big it must be, shouldn’t be cumming to him in his own poolhouse, but you can’t stop yourself.

Satoru smirks.

You’ve been such a good girl for him, your snowman right on the dresser facing you so perfectly, as he watches you in the darkness of his home office, sitting back in his leather chair, watching the scene unfold. On one of his three monitors, you were displayed in high definition, lying on the bed with your legs spread wide, so he had a perfect view.

“That’s it,” he coaches you quietly, undoing his sweats with a tug at the draw string, revealing his leaky cock that slaps his soft black shirt. “Got me leakin’ already, baby, fuck.”

He tugs up that shirt, letting his cock instead rest on his abdomen, moaning softly as his huge hand encircles his cock, stroking up and down carefully, his head falling back for a moment. God, imagine your little hand trying to cover him? Your mouth, the one crying out so wanton and lewd, full of him?

He’d fuck your throat so good your voice wouldn’t work.

He leans back forward, blinking you into view, watching as your back arches, your pathetic little fingers working between your legs. He knows you need him, it’s so hard not to give you it yet, listening to your whimpers, your little soft, desperate pants, clearly having a hard time making yourself cum.

“I’ll help you soon, pretty,” he whispers, his own hand stroking himself in time with the rhythm of your hand, matching it and exhaling, spitting right on his reddened tip. “What you do to me.”

Should he feel bad, watching you? No, you’re his after all, and he wants to know what you like when he does touch you, pay attention to your clearly needy little clit, how your thighs clamp down. He’ll make sure to keep them spread, keep you folded in half, it’s all he can think as he bucks up into his hand, smeared with spit and precum, the snow falling against the office window in the dark.

His pretty, perfect Christmas gift, just waiting to be unwrapped all for him. “Good girl,” he murmurs to the screen softly, voice breaking in the middle, veins just pulsing as he pumps more precum. “Prepping my gift f’me.”

Satoru hungrily watches you hit your peak, hips bucking up into your little hand, head sinking into the pillows as you moan.

His name.

Fuck you’re moaning his name.

He strokes himself faster, whispering yours as he cums ropes down his hand, messy streaks that run warm, picturing pumping it all inside of that hole you’re slipping your fingers out of. You’re softly moaning, shaking just a bit, your clean hand brushing your own hair back, covering your cute little face.

He bets it’s warm to the touch, in the prettiest blush.

Satoru exhales and cleans up, his eyes never leaving the screen, especially when you stand up and lean to look at yourself in the mirror, he’s already sensitive from cumming, but he’s pulsing and throbbing watching you. Leaned over and fixing now messy hair, looking all flushed and embarrassed.

“Don’t be,” he chuckles and touches the cool screen, right where your face is, as you pick up the snowman and his show is over. He keeps you on though, since he can hear your gentle breathing as you sleep. “Soon, sweetheart.”

*****

Satoru’s friends are amazing, but you can’t stop the awkwardness, the feeling of knowing you came screaming his name was overwhelming. You don’t even know how to fucking face him in the morning, when your dumb ass car won’t start.

“I swear it was fine…”

“I got you on a ride, don’t worry,” you’d ended up next to him in that sleek sports car, horribly embarrassed.

“I don’t wanna depend so much on you, already you’re doing too much,” his hand had come to your thigh as you both sat in front of that coffee shop, leaning low and looking at you behind his dark circle shades.

Too close, he’s too close.

His fingers are near your slick warmth, trickling down your inner thigh from how close he is, how his fingers press higher, squeezing your thigh so tightly it squishes in his grip. You’re trembling, so nervous then, wondering if you’re brave enough to lean forward, to kiss him.

But he’s gone as soon as he’s there, leaned back now, smiling. “Don’t worry your pretty head about that, we’ll fix that car soon. Probably after Christmas though.”

“I feel I’m putting you out.”

“Not at all,” you had sighed then.

“You’re too sweet to me, you really are.” He had just smirked at you, this look that sent an ache through you, as close as he is you can almost taste the sweetness on his breath, as it ghosts on your lips.

You can hardly breathe in that car, the heat blaring, Gojo so close.

“Sweet, hmm? Maybe I’m not as sweet as you think,” you’d just giggled at that, shaking your head.

You have no clue he unhooked your alternator, you’re so cute.

He’d of course had to pick you up too, the more you need him, the better.

It’s Christmas eve of course, Satoru makes sure to get you the perfect gift, a pretty necklace he can’t wait to tug and choke you with as he fucks you from the back – the chain is more than thick enough, just begging for your neck. He bought you a dress that you’re now wearing, looking so pretty in it he can hardly stand it, sitting there and talking to his friends.

You fit right in, but why wouldn’t you? It’s clear to all of them that Satoru is obsessed, they know their friend and when he’s in love he’s in love, hopeless and desperate, but even they’ve never seen him like this. He can’t take his eyes hardly off you, even when he’s laughing, when they’re all reminiscing, it’s like his gaze follows you across the room.

Everyone can practically feel how badly Satoru wants you – except you, of course, oblivious and cute, just enjoying the company, feeling so homey.

Shoko is hilarious, Nanami has this dry humor, Suguru is the yin to Satoru’s yang, like the exact opposite of him, but they fit so well. Seeing them on such a night makes you feel far too much like you’re at home, and not just staying in Satoru’s pool house for a time.

It feels too good, so good you get up to give them time alone, when he quickly stops you, a hand on your wrist, leaning low.

“Sweetheart, where are you going?” He asks quietly, possessive in how he holds your wrist, looking down your pretty neck.

God he can’t wait to tie you up, choke you until you can’t breathe, fuck you until it’s just all him.

“I want to give you time, I’ve already intruded so much,” you look down and fidget a bit with one of the buttons of his dress shirt, he tenses, tightening his hold. “You’ve been amazing to me, but I don’t want to take over your time.”

“I invited you,” he exhales now, stepping too close, leaning low. “You wanna go be alone tonight?”

“Um…” you blink tears suddenly.

Alone, you’re alone there, and here you’re with someone you want far too much, you’re far too comfortable, as if your ex meant fucking nothing the moment Gojo smiled at you. Part of you should feel bad, another part wants to sink to your knees and show him how much you appreciate him, that thought spreading to your core, with hot need.

How much would you have to touch yourself to even be okay? It’s like every moment near Satoru Gojo makes it worse.

“I got a gift for you,” you gasp. “It’s nothing really, but I want you to wait for gifts so I can give it. Please?”

“Of course,” you smile tremulously then. “Um, I also got you something, but it’s really not much of anything.”

“Please, anything you get me is perfect,” he kisses your temple, his lips lingering, your lashes flutter shut, leaning forward.

Too perfect in his arms.

You just are, he can practically smell how turned on you are for him, he wonders what panties you’re wearing underneath this pretty red dress he got you – were they soaked already? God he’d drink your cunt from them, bury his face, his hands lingering on your hips too long, lips still sitting there, the two of you breathless for a moment.

He wants to reassure you, but you just need to be a little needier, so he spends the next couple hours completely normal, waiting for his friends to leave, hugging them all good bye. You come help clean up, quiet and easy next to him, your gift sitting unopened still.

“You don’t have to clean, the maids will, sweets.”

“Still! No need to leave them much,” you start rinsing plates, when he comes behind you, turning off the water, hard body pressing against the curve of your spine.

You whimper.

Fuck, fuck.

He halts just a bit, you don’t see his satisfied fucking smile, as the snow starts whirling and the fire is crackling in the living room, like you’re in this perfect cozy nook of Satoru’s world. You bite your lip, hating the sound that came out of your mouth suddenly, looking back at him, hands still dripping wet from water.

“I’m so fucking sorry, um… wine and… been a bit? And you’re very…”

“Shh,” he cups your face, wrapping and arm around you, hand splaying your stomach, warm as it presses, and you can’t stop the next soft cry. “Oh yeah? Just been a while, that’s why you’re like this?”

“I… um…” His hand slips lower, cupping you over the red silk, your head falls back now against his chest, body arching.

“Are you tellin’ the truth, sweets? That’s why you’re so hot here, burning my fucking hand? A long time? Did he not make you cum, baby?” His voice isn’t the sweet one from the coffee shop, it’s darker now, his eyes black when you look back at them, a smirk on his lips.

You’re pulsing around air, aching for him, lost for words.

“I asked ya a question,” his hand starts to slide up that material soft against the creamy skin on your thighs. “Answer me, sweets. Be good f’me.”

“God…” you’re arching for more, feeling a thick, heavy length press on your lower back now. “I um… no, that’s not all.”

“Then what is it, why are you so wet? Hmm?” You bite down on a trembling lip, overwhelmed by the tall, buff white haired man toying with you, lost in his dark eyes and plush pink lips, parted, baring just a hint of sharp teeth.

“I’m wet for you, Gojo,” he moans then, slipping the material even higher, you’re so overheated from his body and the fire you feel beads of sweat trailing across your collarbone. “For you.”

“Satoru,” he corrects, his cock leaking and sticking to his boxers, so ready to bury himself inside you. “Say my name.”

“Satoru.”

He captures your lips as soon as you say it, mouth crashing down on yours brutally. It’s not the gentle, sweet kiss you might have expected from his lingering one on your temple, it’s not gentle, no – it’s hungry, devouring you, tongue plunging between the seam of your lips, taking you over.

You helplessly open for him, as if mentally you can fucking hear his voice murmuring ‘good girl’. The soft sounds of that christmas music are mixing with the fire, the heavy wind, his soft husky breaths, you’re so far gone you could cum from a kiss and your cunt exposed to the warm air as he tugs that dress high.

His other hand moves from your cheek to the back of your neck, fingers tangling in your hair and just tugging until it hurts, holding you in place as he deepens the kiss, his tongue sliding into the warm recesses of your mouth, drinking you. That’s what it is, he’s drinking you up, owning you, you’re desperately meeting his kiss, pressing your little tongue against his, whining out into his mouth.

He pulls back for a moment, a string of saliva just dissolving between you both, you’re shaking in his hold, lingering on his lips like wine, so perfect and sweet. Your eyes are already fucked out, a hand gripping his wrist where he’s so close to slipping his fingers in.

“You have no idea how long I’ve wanted this,” you gasp then, eyes shooting up to him in shock. “You don’t even know, do you? Oblivious, my sweet girl, but don’t worry, you won’t need to think.”

“I w-won’t?” You’re so cute to him then, he smirks just a bit, caressing your jaw delicately.

“Not at all, not when you’re all mine sweetheart, just let me fuck you until you forget everything.”

He should be concerning, right? The shit he’s saying, but you don’t want to think anymore, you want him to take over, to take all the pain and loneliness, and pump you all full of him instead. It’s insanity, the way you trust this man you barely know, how you want him inside you, on you, everywhere.

“Say the word and I’ll fuck every thought from that pretty head, you’ll just be my perfect fuck toy, won’t you?”

God, are you really gonna say yes?

You nod, lips parted then, as he smiles, kissing you once more, messy and desperate. “You sure?”

“I want to be.”

“Good, good girl,” you melt against him at that, the plates forgotten in the sink when he turns you to him, your hands coming up to grip the front of his shirt, as he presses you against that counter. “So long baby.”

“So long, what do you-”

“Shh, no thinking,” he’s kissing down your neck, hands gripping your ass, sighing as his thigh presses between yours, soaking wet. “I’ve been wondering all night, if those pretty little panties are already ruined for me. What do you think, sweetheart? Should I check?”

A whimper escapes your throat, so nervous suddenly, you’re literally stuck to your panties, slipped up puffy folds with how wet you are. You nod quickly in a jerky little motion, unable to form words as he kisses down the side of your neck, your cunt pulsing even more wetness out.

“You’re too precious, can’t talk already? I haven’t even touched you yet,” he whispers those words in your ear, fingers finally finding ruined lace, and that’s when he can hardly hold back anymore.

“Mnh! Satoru…”

“God, you sayin’ my name like that,” he groans, pressing up, his snowy lashes fluttering shut as he toys with your sticky panties, making you moan softly. “Soaked. All f’me, aren’t you?”

You nod again, sucking in a breath as he pulls back to look into your eyes, tugging a thigh over his hip, a thick finger directly over your clit, rubbing it in mean little circles over the thin fabric. You almost cum from that you’re so sensitive and needy, crying out and arching for more, head falling back.

“Eyes on me,” you manage to focus when he grips your chin, pressing that cotton even more flush against you, you’re desperately shaking for more. “That’s it, look at me, pretty girl. All your attention. Me.”

He keeps fucking whispering it as he touches you, until the ruined panties are nothing but this thin, messy barrier you want gone, slipping his fingers over them almost in you instead of moving them. Torturing and teasing until you cry out, your hips bucking up against his hand.

“Please, Satoru…”

“All this time, you’ve been sitting there with my friends, smiling and laughing, while this pretty little cunt was just aching to be touched. Weren’t you, huh? Slutty pussy, god…”

“Y-yes,” that’s all you manage to get out, he’s too much, but he’s also edging you, teasing you, the friction of that damp lace now cool against your needy, puffy little clit, that’s just twitching for him. “Satoru…”

“What do you need, baby?” He murmurs, pulling your panties to the side, slipping two fingers down your slit. “This?”

“More, fuck… please, more,” you have no sense of shame or embarrassment, grinding on him shameless, he pulls back those fingers, leaving your thighs shaking. “Satoru…”

“Mmm,” his fingers are soaking wet and glossy, he puts two to his mouth and sucks, the motion filthy as his mouth wraps it, smirking. “If we do this, you’re all mine sweetheart.”

“But you… don’t even know me? And…” He’s slipping your juices in your mouth now, fingers coated in your cunt and his spit, you moan.

“Suck,” you obediently do, his eyes are black then, a feral look on his pretty face, watching you bob your head. “You’re mine. Just mine.”

You barely know what the fuck happens, or how you end up tied up with a string of pretty white christmas lights, Satoru’s insane ass grin as he ropes your arms shibari style, pushing your tits out as he ropes them. He’s hungrily sucking on your perky nipples, moaning on each one, you’re on all fours on this soft rug in front of the fireplace, lit up for him.

“God, that’s perfect,” he murmurs when he’s done, and your ass is in the air, pussy soaked and dripping, your ripped panties next to that pretty dress tossed aside on the floor. “Cunt is soaked, she needs me, hmm?”

“Please,” you should be scared, ask yourself why you’re tied up with Christmas lights on Satoru Gojo’s floor, but when you see his body, his thick, girthy cock leaking pre, you instead eagerly suck on your knees.

“That’s it, such a good girl, god I knew it,” he whispers desperately, cock heavy and hot in your mouth, the tip leaking pre against your uvula. Spit is drippin down his heavy balls, making it a mess, glossy with your spit as he rocks his hips, tugging at your hair. “Throat is only gonna know my shape, just mine, hmm?”

Your answer is a moan around his cock, pussy so needy and empty you’re dying for him inside, but you also desperately want to please him. Every fuck into your tight throat, every stretch and burn has you soaking wet, dripping down your slit onto that very rug beneath you, gasping for a breath as he shoves his cock as deep as you can even take it.

Satoru’s lost in how pretty you look like this, arms bound and lit up, his perfect Christmas gift that he can’t wait to fill up.

“Suckin’ me s’good, f-fuck…” He’s whimpering then, the sound shooting straight to your core, fucking your throat faster, pulling your hair until mascara trails down your cheeks with your tears. “I’ll give you anything, baby, yeah? Anything.”

You’re drooling when he pulls back, tilting your chin up to spit in your open mouth, you swallow so good, tasting saliva and pre, when he turns you to face the fireplace, pressing you down between your shoulder blades. He slides two fingers deep in your hole, you’re wriggling around, clenching him so tight, making his cock leak more pre, moaning.

“So tight,” he whispers in wonder, he wants to give you more prep but he can’t handle another moment without your cunt milking him. He bends down, pulling your ass up and licking a strip from your clit to your ass. “Mmm, the taste.”

“Satoru! Mnh!” The way his huge tongue just licks you clean, filthy stripes that are for his pleasure, messy and not hitting your spots, just scooping in as his moans vibrate, and his hands grip your ass bruisingly. “Please, please. In me…”

“Mmm, one more,” he can’t help but drink just a little more of your juices, they’re dripping in rivulets down his chin, he grins as you’re twitching, spreading your cute hole to spit in it. “Arch f’me.”

You eagerly do, the green cord digging into your thighs, when Satoru lines up his leaky pink tip and finally fucks you. But he doesn’t inch in, no he bottoms the fuck out in one mean stroke. You’re gasping out, desperately clutching the fur underneath you, so full you can’t take it, belly bulging and making the lights press in even more painfully than before.

Deep, punishing strokes that wreck your cunt, gliding easier and easier with the mess you are becoming, the slickness and your trembling walls accommodating his size. Every bit of pain just makes the filthy pleasure even better, the sounds of his moans, the smacking of skin, your squelching cunt all echoing in your ears.

He shoves so deep you scream then, so deep you feel him everywhere, in your tummy, fuck in your throat, gasping for air.

“Satoru, so much! Too much!” You’re shaking, he’s laughing softly, breath caught when you clamp down on him, looking at how huge his cock is compared to your tiny little pussy as he pulls back.

“God, look at that,” he watches that stream of slick pour down his cock as he pulls out then pushes back in, watching her stretch around him. “So much bigger than you, aww, she can hardly even take him.”

He’s dying over the size difference, the way your little hole is trying its best, the way his huge hand takes over your ass when it smacks down, the huge handprints spreading to your thighs. He’s not gentle, no, he’s fucking you like he wants to make sure you never leave, never even think of anything again.

“That’s it, takin’ my cock like you’re made for it,” he whispers, fucking you harder and harder, you’re gasping desperately, so full, his balls smacking your needy, twitchy clit with filthy fwaps, as you drip everywhere. “Makin’ a mess of that rug, hah, oh sweetheart you need me, huh?”

“N-need you – nghhh!” You’re done when he loses his control, bruising grip, fucking you senseless, strokes so messy.

“Gonna stuff you so full of white,” he chuckles, psychotic blue eyes glinting, prone over you, making everything dig in and leave its mark, cupping your face and looking down at you. “Aww, you want that? My Christmas present. My perfect fucking present. Mine.”

He keeps repeating it – mine, mine, mine – cock pulsing and thickening, pressing into your cervix, sending you over the edge, blinded when that orgasm rips through you. Your cunt clamps down on him so tight, pulsing and milking him for all the white he’s promising, earning his groan, his tensing.

“Gonna fill you up, next Christmas you’ll have all my babies,” you really should be scared, confused, but you’re still reeling from it, his hips slamming into you, railing your cunt until it is all his. “You want it, don’t you? Say it baby, please.”

“W-want it… ah!”

“Fuck, m’gonna give you so much, all you deserve sweetheart, all for you,” you feel him pulse inside you when he slams in to the hilt, hips snug on your ass now, a hot, thick flood of his white cum filling you up. “That’s it, take all of it, s’all yours.”

Satoru’s barely able to hold himself up when he busts inside you, coating your quivering walls, it’s so much it starts to leak out around his cock, mixing with your own slick and dripping down your thighs. He pumps a few more times, shakily taking breaths, hands holding you tightly, moans escaping.

“Took so much, god you’re perfect,” he whispers, pulling out to watch that creamy mix push out of your abused hole. “God you’re so good.”

The lights left their mark, but he’s massaging your skin after, cleans you up with his tongue, kisses every mark the lights left. He’s got you in his bed when Christmas strikes, smiling as you snore soundly against his chest, you’re wearing one of his shirts that swallows you, his cum still dripping from your pretty pussy.

He can’t wait until next year, when you’ll have your first baby for him, and he’ll already have another put in you next Christmas. You wake up sometime in the night, looking at him, blinking a bit.

“Merry Christmas, sweetheart,” he murmurs. “Go back to sleep.”

“Merry Christmas, Satoru,” you whisper, snug in his arms, wondering just what luck you have to be there.

Was it luck, some Christmas miracle? Or was it Satoru Gojo making sure he got his perfect gift?

Plus, he likes to watch you eat, drink water, take care of yourself, you just work too hard lately. He notices, every tired blink of an eye, and every yawn, Choso notices it all- including things only he can see - like how you shift your hips in your office chair, how you cross and uncross your legs, wearing a different color of panties every single day.

Sometimes you wear lace.

Once you wore crotchless.

He got very mad at you.

Who were they for?

Men at the office flirted with you, bustling and busy and a little more men working to women, they all were after you. He has lost count how many dates you’ve been asked on, but you always sweetly decline, Choso likes to think it’s because you already know-

You’re his.

“You should eat more, and relax a bit. Ever took a day off?” He asks you now, and you shake your head, sighing.

“Too many bills to pay.” You yawn once more, before pecking a kiss on his cheek, making him blush, which you find adorable. “Sorry, is that okay?”

“Oh it’s f-fine.” Choso is over six foot, towering over everyone, buff under that suit- you can feel it- and far too handsome for his own good, but he’s so shy he acts as if he has no clue of his effects.

On you especially.

Just being in his proximity gets you too excited, his dark violet eyes flashing just a bit as he looks down at you, when the elevator dings and you two walk out, your hand falling then. “I’ll meet you at lunch?” You tease with a wink, and he nods a bit then, that flush fading just a bit from his cheeks, while you walk into the bright, open office.

Floor to ceiling windows abound, and cubicles are all over, but Choso works in his own private office, as he’s a higher up manager, and you’re the owner’s receptionist and assistant. You prance up to your boss, Mr. Higaruma, who offers you his own kind and tired smile.

“Good morning.” He says your name softly, pouring over his paperwork then and downing his coffee, dark brows knitted together.

“Good morning, Mr. Higaruma, want me to take half your stack?” You put down your purse and your breakfast at your desk, he sighs then, running a hand through his black spiky locks.

“Would you be a doll and do just that? This weekend I got…” He looks around as if he’s not the boss, whispering in  your ear. “Hungover.”

You nearly snort, covering your mouth then, and Higaruma grins at your cute expression. “Sorry!”

“It’s fine, no, it is kind of funny. But I never drink anymore, ugh.”

“One sec…” You go to pull out a bottle of tylenol now, pouring water into a paper cup. “This will help, along with something greasy.”

“Greasy?” You both start talking, and Choso glares across the office, waiting for you to just sit down already.

How close did you two need to get!?

You finally do sit down, and he eyes your panties from the camera he has strategically placed, seeing that they’re purple today, making his cock throb as he sits in his office, he goes to shut the door then, staring at the image on his phone, watching you shift this way and that. Today the lace is clinging so tightly to your puffy lips he can see the outline of your perfect cunt.

“Oh my god…” He murmurs softly, if only you were his assistant, he’d have you bent over his desk right now, but for the moment he strokes his cock over his slacks, as you cross your legs, deterring his view. “Open them for me, baby, please…”

As if on command you do just that, lean back and spread your thighs, god he can’t stand how good you look, he eyes you out of one of his office windows as you smile over at him, waving so pretty. Clueless that he’s stroking his now leaky tip against his thumb, while he smiles back over to you, eyes torn between your pretty face and the upskirt view he has.

Choso’s cock springs free as he strokes himself under the desk, whimpering softly as he pictures it inside you, this is his daily routine though, stroking himself, over and over, he does so at least every day if not multiple times, using the precum and his own saliva as lube to stroke his thick cock faster. He bets you’re so tight, he bets you taste as good as you smell.

He’s leaned back, closing his eyes and murmuring your name when he hears a knock knock knock then, but he’s already cumming. “Shit, shit, shit…” He’s trying to hide his whine as he pours hot sticky ropes into his hand. “Hold on a minute!”

“Sure thing, Choso.” It’s you.

Fuck.

Choso hastily cleans himself up the best he can, tissues swiping at the sticky mess his cock has become, some of it is sticking to his black boxer briefs when he pulls himself together, opening his door. You’re smiling up at him, and he wonders if he should feel bad. You don’t know he sees your panties every day, but he brushes it off, because it’s not like he can help himself.

It takes everything not to drag you in as you just stand there curiously. “Can I help you with anything?”

“Oh, I’m sorry.” You’re flushed as you look down a bit, biting that lower lip that makes him think insane thoughts. “I wondered… would you like to come over?”

“Come over!?” He’s got his eyes wide now, and you feel your cheeks heat up more, shifting nervously.

“Is that too much? Is it weird?”

“What no I… you… huh?” Choso sputters now, imagining every way he wants you, god your lips probably would feel so good wrapped around his tip, wouldn’t they? Cleaning his cum off himself-

“Sorry, it’s stupid. Ugh. We just are so close here but we never hang out? And I have no friends here, just a cat I think.” You’re babbling, as he’s staring at you like you’ve grown another head.

You’ve wanted to ask him out for so long, surprised he never made a move, maybe you’re not his type? But curiosity gets the best of you, just who is he when he’s not so shy, when he’s not all in his business mode. Those glimpses of tattoos on his arms when he rolls his sleeves up are too enticing.

“A date?” He whispers, and you giggle then.

“It doesn’t have to be. Or it could be.”

“I’ll be there, I’ll… bring wine?” He grins as you brighten up.

“I love wine!”

Oh, he knows.

He knows the brands you like, the type you enjoy, he knows so much about you already, he’s seen the outside of your home almost every night after work, just to make sure you get home safe of course. You live alone and you’re just a sweet, fragile thing, there are too many crazy men out there. Once he watches you, he leaves of course!

But he does notice you enjoy a glass of wine, you leave your window wide open when it’s nice out, petting your cat and sipping on it, reading some book. God you look so pretty when you think no one is watching, when your shoulders relax just so, in those moments his thoughts are far more pure, not like when he has to be tortured by the obscene amount of panties you have.

“I’d love to come over. Do you want me to bring dinner?” He’s trying to sound calm, not like he just noticed with horror he has some cum sticking to his pant leg then, which you seem to notice, tilting your head. 

“I think you’ve got something…” You bend down, brushing it off, making his cock jerk as you look at the sticky substance curiously, blinking while he panics.

“Oh it’s just… it’s some… the glaze, from the donuts!” He’s taking your hand now, and you’re already just licking it off your thumb.

You just licked Choso’s cum.

Fuck.

“You got donuts? Weird you got me bagels this morning. Silly.” You tease now, brushing your thumb back across your skirt, smiling up at him again.

“I uh… raided the… office cafeteria.”

“You have such a sweet tooth!”

You have no idea. Once he tastes you he will never stop.

He doesn’t think he’ll even let you leave,

“I do, okay I’ll bring dessert, you do dinner?” You nod and giggle just a bit, the sound making his heart clench.

“Perfect, I’ll see you after work and give you my address.”

As if he doesn’t know.

“Sounds good.” You shut the door, and he leans his head on it, exhaling, as you curiously roll your tongue around your mouth.

What kind of donuts taste like that?

*****

“This is my favorite wine, oh my God how’d you know!?” You take the bottle of blackberry wine, it’s not even common and sold at one specific store, Choso just smiles down at you, looking far too hot in his soft black shirt and jeans.

You only see each other in business gear, but seeing rolled up sleeves revealing veiny forearms is far too much to handle, along with the dessert ingredients he pulls out. “Was just a guess, is all.”

“A great guess.” Choso just smiles softly, with his lidded gaze drifting across the little tank top and skirt you have on. Just from his gaze your nipples press up, as if they’re trying to tempt him with your every breath. Thank you.” You kiss his cheek, making his tummy clench, god he can’t wait to fuck you, fill you, when you’re ready of course, when you’re begging him like the good girl he bets you can be,

“You’re very welcome. Oooh that already smells so good.” You giggle a bit, taking the wine and bag out of his hands, heading over to where the ingredients are sizzling, you’re making steaks that smell far, far too heavenly already. 

God you’re perfect, shimmying a bit when you taste the sauce you’ve mixed up, beckoning him over with your two little fingers crooked up. “Come taste this.”

Choso urges his cock to go down at your innocent words, but were they innocent really, when he sees how your lips curl up at the corner, cozy inside your pretty little kitchen. He can tell you cook a lot by the amount of mixers, grills, devices and utensils neatly lined along your light countertops.

“Delicious, oh my god.” He murmurs, after you hold the ladle to his lips, brushing some sauce off the corner of his mouth with a sigh, for a wild moment you think of kissing it off him.

But he just touches your wrist, wrapping long thick fingers around it completely, the grip so tight it excites you, before he’s just pressing a kiss on it. Great, you’re some horny slut and he’s this… gentleman or something? You could damn near jump him - how good he looks, how long you’ve been wanting this - but you make yourself act correctly, as you watch him work in the kitchen with you.

He’s got the sweetest chocolate mousse, his turn to ask you to ‘have a taste’ and you lap it up off the beater, short circuiting his brain, while he simultaneously takes in absolutely everything in your home. Every little picture, and every knick knack that comprises you. Of course he sees your cat slinking around, right before the movies he goes to pet it.

“He likes you, that’s rare.” You admit, grabbing two glasses of wine, pouring the dark swirling liquid, handing him one as you sit down the plate with the mousse, taking a bite and moaning. “Heavenly.”

He bets you taste heavenly.

He wants to say it, when you’re right next to him, your legs tucked under you, sipping on the wine, leaving a pretty lip print with the color you’re wearing, a color Choso would love to see smeared across your face. He’s tensing as you lean closer, his arm up and above you on the couch, casually strewn as if he’s not losing his mind.

He’s mapping out more of your house even as he casually brushes his hand up and down your shoulder, as the gory movie begins, and he quickly notices you are not a fan. “Everything okay?”

“Too much… oh god…” You’re suddenly against him, he pulls you close to his hard body, as you’re exhaling, shaking your head. “Scary.”

Choso’s fingers brush against the bare skin on your shoulders, when you’re burying your face against his chest, he’d laugh at how cute you are scared of this zombie movie, but you against him alone has him throbbing. Your hands clutching his shirt as your hot little breaths blow on his neck is too much, he can’t take it anymore, not having you.

His hand moves lower, brushing the sensitive skin down your arms, until he drops it to your hip, pulling you closer, hearing your breath catch as he does. Your nipples tighten in reaction, fuck it’s been a while and Choso smells so good, he feels good too. You don’t move for a moment, feeling warmth spread, mixing with the wine in your body.

You were hoping he’d make a move, as you just weren’t one to do so, but his hand doesn’t stray from your hip, as his thighs spread just a bit, and the sounds of the screams on the screen ebb for a moment. “It’s over now, are you alright angel?”

You blush at the nickname, already overheated, shaking your head and snuggling deeper. “No, it was too freaky.”

“You picked it!” You giggle a bit then, pulling back to look up at him, with eyes he can’t wait to have rolling back in your skull, his hand tightens at the thoughts, as your own grip tightens.

“I knew you liked horror, so I wanted to seem cool.” Choso watches you flush, so fucking cute then, and he pulls you more against him, now cupping your face with one of his huge hands. “Is that lame that I remembered that?”

Oh you’re so cute, as if he doesn’t know everything about you.

You’re feeling so small compared to him, when his hand takes over your face with his long, thick fingers, only making you wetter when he brushes a thumb over your lips. “You don’t have to try to seem ‘cool’ with me.”

“Choso… I…” You lean forward now, and your lips touch, but that’s when Choso loses any semblance of hope of remaining normal, calm, shy even, not when he finally gets your lips on his.

You’re on his lap before you can blink, gasping as his tongue swipes inside your mouth, barbell clicking your teeth gently, and you’re pulling back to gasp, looking down at his eyes. So dilated they’re black, he emits the softest growl as he presses your clothed cunt down on his lap, and you cry out, gushing wetness until your panties are sticky.

“God, look at you…” He whispers, his voice is so different, everything about him is, when you lean forward, pressing a kiss to his lips, rolling your hips and feeling his thick length under his jeans.

He yanks you back down, mouths messy as you grind, as you move, nipping at his tongue ring with your teeth and pulling it, as his cock starts pulsing precum from your heat. “Choso…”

“Fuck…” He’s whimpering as you kiss down his neck, up to his ear, and he pulls you down harder, hands slipping up your skirt to grab that ass he’s stared at every day for a year. “You’re so wet.”

“S’much I… embarrassing…”

“No, no, not at all.” He’s pushing you back gently, so he can look at you, your nipples prominent against your top. He nips it over the thin material with his teeth, while you’re leaving a wet spot on his jeans.

He never thought he’d actually have you like this, silently begging him, one of your hands gripping his hair as he pulls down your top, revealing a nipple already perked up for him. You’re panting when he sucks it in his mouth, feeling the weight of the other one in his palm, your tits are even more perfect than he could ever imagine, the thought that anyone ever saw them makes him furious.

No one will again.

“Perfect.” He murmurs, as he is now slipping down his finger until it hits your clit, rolling in small circles over your panties, as he feels himself already too close, when he sees your lidded gaze, your thighs trembling on either side of him. “Can’t help yourself, can you baby?”

“Fuck…” Choso, sweet and shy and blushing, is talking dirty to you, as his barbell is flicking on your nipple, making you ache, so ready he could slip his cock in with ease. “Fuck me, please.” Your words make him pause, words you don’t just say, when have you ever asked- or fuck, begged?

Someone knocks on your door then, and you grimace in frustration, kissing him once more as he feels himself about to bust if you move once more, and the knock continues. “Should you get that?”

“It’s probably my neighbor, they're always asking for rides or for something.” You frown then.

“You’re sweet, that’s why hmm?” You just smile a bit, hoping they’ll go away, but ever persistent you hear her, shouting your name as Choso laughs a bit. “You can get it, it’s fine.”

“It’s so not fine.” You hop up, leaving Choso a moment to breathe as you adjust yourself and head to the door, where your neighbor starts going on and on, and you sigh, looking back at Choso. “Just a minute!”

“No worries.” As you step out on the porch to hear her ranting about another neighbor from what he can catch, you give him the perfect opportunity, he stands quickly, blood rushing to his head, he is so close to busting, he has almost forgotten about the little cameras he has.

He sneaks into your room now, finding it smells so much like you, your little plushies all along the dresser, which he casually takes one and puts a camera in, before opening the drawer, and seeing you do have an insane amount of panties. Just who are these all for he wonders, running a finger over your pretty bras now too, soft and silky and neatly folded.

God he wants them, but, he needs something you’ve worn, these are all clean and smelling of fabric softener, that won’t do. He eyes the rest of your room, your bed just a little rumpled, opening the drawer of your nightstand, scowling when he sees your dildo and vibrator.

You won’t get to use those on yourself once he has a say.

He thinks briefly of tossing them, but that would look a little suspicious, though he contemplates it for a beat too long, as he runs out when he hears the door shut, and stands there casually, pausing the movie as you peer in. “Just one more minute, I’m so sorry…”

“It’s all good.” He smiles sweetly, and exhales in relief, heading to your bathroom now, where he finds the pair he’d seen earlier sitting right at the top of your hamper, those purple ones that you clearly soaked, he sees the wetness left from them and moans softly, before shoving it in his pocket

Finally you’re back inside, kissing him in his arms, up on tiptoes, your own hands trailing down his body, until you’re touching him, and just the touch and he feels himself about to cum. He needs to stroke himself before he even lets you come near him, clearly, he grabs your wrists, and you pause, blinking up at him, lips in a pout.

“Am I moving too fast for you?” You ask then, brows knitting, while Choso tries to envision everything terrible to make his cock stop, panicking.

“No, I just… I have to… I got a call, while you were outside and um… I have to… leave.” He mumbles, you just blink a bit, pulling back and frowning.

“You have to leave right now?”

“Yes I… yes.” Choso kisses your forehead, before darting out and leaving you alone, standing there in confusion.

Were you coming on too strong!?

The thought swirls through your head as you take the glass of half finished wine, plopping down and sitting on your bed, frowning as you peek at your phone, he seemed so into it, was it the interruption, did he think better? You pause a bit, setting the glass down on your side table with a little clink, before laying and spreading your thighs, touching yourself with a hiss.

You’re so wet you’re sticking to them, ugh.

You call him then, right as Choso has your panties on his face, stroking his cock and moaning, he has the image of you laying on your bed when he opens his eyes and peeks at the monitor, rushing to answer your phone. “Choso… I’m sorry, but did I come on too much?”

“What? No, no…” He’s pulsing as he fucks his hand, now entranced by the vision of your legs spread like they are, it’s all he can see, when you’re shifting a bit.

“Okay um… I guess I’ll see you at work tomorrow?”

Say something.

Choso wants to so badly, but now he’s leaning forward, staring at you as you touch yourself, hearing a hitch of breath, and he continues stroking his cock as he watches you. “Cho?”

“You didn’t do anything wrong, I got nervous.” He admits, continuing to watch as you giggle just a bit, gathering your slick when your fingers dip under your panties, he watches your hips roll and hears your little sigh.

It’s like you know he’s watching.

“Are we still cool? I don’t want it to be weird at work.”

“No never, I-”

“I have to go.” You say suddenly, and he watches as the phone falls from your hands, glaring just a bit when you whine out, he can barely hear you, you hang up on him like a little brat.

You are rolling your finger on your clit as you smile just a bit, it’s a little petty sure, but he just walked out on you, so you get just a little satisfaction hanging up, remembering his touch, how good his hot mouth felt on your breasts. How good his length felt pressing up in his jeans, against your clit, god you can imagine how big it is when you slip two fingers in.

Picturing his tongue ring in the most wicked places, you feel yourself drenched, finally pushing down soaked panties, giving him the most perfect view when he finally sees your pussy bare. He blushes, looking away for a moment, should he be going this far he wonders, but he hears his name moaned from your lips, so he continues, wishing he could just call you back.

Just go back.

But he’s not ready- not just yet- you don’t need him enough, do you? But he can tell you’re starting to, as you’re pumping your little fingers in and out of your perfect, pretty pussy- he’s not sure he’s ever seen one that looks that good. He knew it of course but god he can’t wait to bury his face between your thighs, to lap up those juices he sees glistening.

“That’s it baby, cum for me…” He’s murmuring, as you do just that, thighs shaking, as Choso finishes with a whine, and then he could swear you almost smile at that camera, but no way…

*****

You already have breakfast the next morning.

You already have coffee the next morning?

Your boss apparently bought them for you, and you’re sitting right on his desk giggling a bit, as Choso looks on with a scowl, crumpling the brown paper bag as a coworker comes up to him then. “She’s so hot.”

Choso scowls, as another one walks up as well. “Yeah she is, damn dude I thought you were gonna shoot your shot?”

“I… she…” He’s stuttering, you gaze at him and wave a little bit, as Higaruma’s hand is dangerously close to your thigh while you’re sipping on coffee.

“Is she single then?”

“No. She’s not.” They back off when the tall, buff man glares violet eyes at them, and Choso feels his body raging, hand itching to spank that ass of yours till it’s covered in his handprints.

You notice his glare, turning away your face then, you know you shouldn’t be flirting, but you’ve never tried so damn hard to get with a guy who just leaves you in the middle of you grinding on him. He left without even a ‘goodbye’ or ‘had a nice time’ - he ran away, and part of you has your feelings hurt, because it feels like you’re making all the moves.

You could feel his angry gaze all damn day, until you see him at one point stomp off to the breakroom, and you can’t help but follow him curiously, surely a little flirting wouldn’t upset him that much, right? “Choso…”

Choso shuts the breakroom door then, pressing you against it and making you gasp, as he leans over you, one hand on the door, the other gripping you by your dress skirt, making you gasp. Your hands shoot up to his chest, as if to press him away, but when he is sliding up that skirt roughly you feel your heart thudding in your chest, feel your tummy heat up with desire.

Who is this Choso?

“Do you like him?” He demands softly - you blink a bit, biting your lower lip to hold in a slutty moan as his hand slips up your inner thigh, making you tremble.

“Who?” You whisper, smiling just a bit, but the smile freezes when he’s looming even more over you, taking over your every sense.

“Your boss, Higuruma. Do. You. Like. Him.”

You giggle a bit, breathless. “You're jealous, why?”

Choso shocks you when his fingers find you under your skirt, your cunt drooling all over his thick digits when he presses the cotton against you, you're whining out at the touch, clit twitching in response, head falling back against the door. When your eyes threaten to flutter shut, he grips your chin, making you look up at him.

“Do you like him?” He whispers again, and you shake your head nervously, hips arching for more of his touch, and Choso Kamo smirks, a man you’ve never seen do such a thing, a man that blushes and smiles sweetly. “Use your words.”

Fuck.

“No, no I like you… but you don’t- f-fuck…” He’s slipped his fingers under your panties now, exhaling against your lips, sweet breath like mocha against your lips, when he first touches your slick pussy without the barrier, he exhales, his hand on your chin slipping to tangle in your hair.

“You have no clue what I want, so was that… to make me jealous?” He demands, scowling as he sinks two thick fingers inside your gummy walls that grip him, even though he’s so mad at you, he can’t stop thinking how perfect your pretty face looks, how you’re tighter than he could imagine. He pumps inside you, hitting that spongy spot, pressing his lips right against yours. “Answer me, now.”

“Y-yes.” He laughs just a bit, curling his fingers while you’re wriggling in his hold, covering his lips with yours now, drinking in your cries as he hikes a thigh up over his hips, more and more inches of his fingers in your tight little drippy cunt.

“You wanna cum, don’t you baby?” He’s whispering, kissing up your jaw, as you cling to his suit jacket, nodding eagerly, Choso acting like this is nothing you could even fantasize, you hear the squishing of your wetness even in the room. You nod in between his kisses up your neck, his teeth sinking into your skin, as he hits just that spot like he already knows your pussy.

“Please…” You whisper out, and he thumbs your clit now, pressing against it and grinning as he feels you gush wetness, so much it’s insane to him, he’s fingering you in wonder as he feels your body tense.

“Were you a good girl? Do you deserve to?” You whine out when he pulls his fingers out just before you cum, making your lips part, when he sucks you right off his fingers, moaning at your taste, possibly the hottest thing you’ve seen.

You cannot figure him out.

“Good? Are you being good? Can’t answer?” He eases your panties back on, pressing your skirt down as you struggle to function.

“No.” You admit, his cock is pressing against his slacks, leaking precum while he is fixing your hair.

“You’re so pretty like this.” Choso’s whisper resonates through your body, which his dilated eyes trail down. “Tell him you’re not interested, and I’ll actually let you cum, hmm?”

You just nod, gulping as he stares so possessively at you. “When?”

“Tonight, I’ll be at your place. He kisses you once more, a brush of his lips like some insane promise, while everything you think you know is flipped. “I’ll be watching for when you tell him.”

With those words, he’s gone, leaving you to try to compartmentalize his words, his demeanor, as you’re aching for him, leaving you wanting twice now. You huff a bit, glaring up at him. “Fine then.”

“You’re so cute.” You scoff as you walk out, and Choso watches with a proud smile as you back off, as you sit right at your desk, and he sees just how soaked he’s made you.

*****

This time, there wasn’t any wine or awkward talk, there was no movie playing, the moment Choso walks in you’re yanking him by his collar, slamming your lips up on his as he locks the door with a click, his hands slipping up your waist. He pulls back for a moment, taking a breath, before he’s picking you up like nothing, and you wrap your arms around his neck.

“You were a good girl, did you tell him you’re mine?” You blink a bit then, confused, brows knitting.

“Yours?”

“Mine. Mine, mine, mine.” He’s whispering now, gripping your ass with his huge hands, earning your whine while he squishes it in his hands. “Did you?”

“I will.” He smiles softly, walking you right to your room, far too familiarly, but you let him, he plops your right down, so the camera will capture the perfect angle, when he starts kissing down your pretty, perfect body.

“You’re being good, a little bit at least.” He’s whispering, dragging your skirt off your hips, revealing another black lace panty, which he touches, finding it dripping with your slick. “Wear new panties every day, they’re all so slutty, do you want people to see her?”

“What? I…”

“Want them looking at what only I should see?” He’s slipping the panties up between your lips, pressing his own cock into your mattress as it’s pulsing from just being this close.

“No. I don’t want them to see.” Your whisper ends him, he laps a hot, wet stripe over panties he has pulled so tight, exhaling at how pretty you are when he looks up at your face, and your hands grip his hair. “I want you to see.”

“Me?” He’s dragging the soaking lace down your thighs, face to face with the pretty pussy he saw on a fuzzy camera, exhaling when he laps your pooling arousal from your slutty little hole. “So you want to drive me fucking crazy?”

“Y-yes…you…” Your sweet murmur along with how you taste ruin him, he’s spreading your plump lips, sucking in a breath as he sees you wide open, feeling your manicured nails pressing into his scalp while your thighs are shaking on either side of his head.

“So you know what you do to me, huh?” He swirls his tongue around your clit, tongue ring hitting it and making you cry out, back arching off the bed. “Answer.”

“N-no I don’t know… I just wanted you to… make a move I-”

“Teasing me? Making me stroke my cock till it hurts? Tsk.” Choso bites at your little clit now, and you’re screaming when he flicks the barbell on your engorged little clit, you’re gushing all down his pretty face. “That’s being bad, you know?”

“I’m s-sorry… you touch your-”

“Oh baby…” He’s looking up under long lashes. “I hope you can make it.”

“Make what!?” Your words are met with a moan as he devours you, shoving your thighs up.

“Hold them up, now.” His dominance not just shocks you, it ends you, the boy you thought you’d suck, ride, show things to, is a fucking menace when it comes to eating pussy.

No one has ever licked you like this, and he’s got two thick digits deep in your pussy, fuck his fingers are bigger than men you’ve been with, you’re spasming around them as you’re rolling your hips up and down. You’re pausing when he’s suffocating against your drooly cunt, his free hand pressing into your thigh, leaving bruises from his fingertips.

“No, fuck my face, like a pretty slut f’me.”

Yep, you’re done.

You do just that, pulling his hair so hard it hurts, as he laps up every bit of your pretty pussy, you’re closer, closer, he feels it, looking up at you with a glistening chin and lips reddened from drinking you. “Cum, let me drink you.”

“Shit…” He’d chuckle but he’s lost in you, in the girl he can’t stop watching, the girl he’s stalked for so long, just begging for him, screaming out, fucking his entire face, up to the straight nose that he buries inside your cunt. “Choso, I’m gonna… f-fuck I’m gonna…”

He just sucks your little clit in his mouth and hums, shoving two fingers and curling them up, when you’re shattering, screaming his name, and he feels himself cumming then, how can he not. His cum is sticking to his boxers, his jeans even, so much white seed pouring when you’re shaking, twitching, and he’s gasping as your thighs tighten on either side of his head.

“F-fuck… oh m-my god…” You’re weak as he leans up, smirking down at you, stroking a cheek. “Let me…”

“No, I’m not done yet.” You blink in confusion, when he stands. “Give me just a minute.”

Before you can process what’s happening, he’s back from the bathroom, and you’re on your knees, wanting to suck him, but he’s shoved you back down, lapping at you again, and you’re so weak, screaming out his name over and over while his tongue ring flicks your clit and he’s scissoring those fingers.

Choso had cleaned up but he’s hard again, you just do something to him, fuck why do you do this!?

“C-can’t take more… fuck me, please…” He smiles on your thigh, he’ll fuck you soon, but you’re not desperate enough yet, don’t need him enough yet.

“Cum again.” His order is met with him dragging your cunt along his face, and tears start falling with overstimulation, you’re hiccuping, pussy throbbing, so overstimulated. He’s smiling down at you, that sweet smile with dark eyes. “Oh, angel, we’re not close to done.”

“Huh? Choso… I came a lot lemme…”

“Not yet. Been waiting too fucking long.” He’s devouring your pussy again, sipping you up as you keep cumming, your pussy so sweet it’s drugging him, he’s got you bent over, fingers moving in and out as he smacks your ass, but never fucking you, just making you cum over and over with his mouth, his hands.

“C-can’t take anymore… p-please, too much…” You whisper, then he clicks his tongue, pressing kisses to your titties, leaving brutal bite marks all over your chest, thumb hitting your now sore clit.

“You’re even more pretty crying, I knew it.” You’re sniffling, tears, drool all mixing when he kisses you, and you taste your pussy on his lips, as he sticks in three, and you’ve cum so much you can barely move, fatigue dragging you with the force of each orgasm. “One more, f’me, hmm?”

“C-can’t… p-please Choso…” He’s grinning now, brushing your hair back sweetly like he wasn’t three fingers in your sore little cunt.

“Begging me, crying for me, look at you. Do you realize how bad you were today?” You sniffle, nodding, but he’s unrelenting, curling three fingers and making you cry in pleasure and pain. “You’ll get fucked when you act right.”

“Please! Too much… mnh!” Choso’s back down eating you out, he’s lapping his tongue inside your hole, you feel every inch of his tongue, down to the texture as he looks up at the mess he’s made you, you feel the lines of his teeth when he grins, pressing up the hood of your clit. “Ah, ah! M’gonna… pass out I…”

“One more time, you can take it. I need to drink more of you.” You’re shaking your head, but you can’t stop the orgasms he elicits to the point where you’re gasping and clinging to him, to stay tethered, but the last thing you remember before you pass out is violet eyes bright, and a white grin from his face.

Choso laps at you after you’re limp, how can he not, he’s already cum again just drinking your juices, but now you’re so sore even in your knocked out state you’re jerking, hissing. He’s exhaling even, and his breath on your clit with those lips spread, he can watch the poor little thing twitch.

“Oh, you’re so sweet, look at you. So comfortable with me.” He cooes, brushing back your hair as your tears are drying all sticky on your face.

He’s sure the camera caught it, but he can’t help taking some pictures for himself later, while you’re so knocked out you lightly snore, while he brushes the dried tears off gently. He goes to clean his cock off again, coming back to clean you up, dress you once more, your body limp and pliant, just begging for him even in your sleep, but Choso wants your first time with you awake.

He can fuck you in your sleep after.

Curiously he sees your phone text, some guy asking if you’re free for coffee on the preview, and Choso scowls furiously, picking it up. It’s a fingerprint lock, he kisses your hand in an apology before he uses your print, and starts scrolling though, seeing the amount of men that are in your dms. You seem to not respond to many, but this just won’t do!

What if one of them tried to take you?

Choso deletes them all, blocking them one by one, and when he’s done he stands up, tucking you in carefully, brushing a kiss on your lax lips.

“Much better. Sweet dreams, angel.”

*****

“Choso Kamo!” You’re shoving at him that morning, right outside of the office building, he blinks curiously, lids lowering.

“Didn’t eat you out enough? Need more?”

“You- what!?” You hold up your phone, earning his dopey grin. “Where are all my numbers?”

“You have your boss, unfortunately. And me.”

“That’s it aside from like my girls, what the fuck!” He’s scowling down at you now, backing you up until you’re against the wall of the building, where anyone could see you all, his thigh between yours.

“You don’t need to talk to them.”

“You’re not even my boyfriend yet-”

“No, I’m more. You’re more. Everything.” You’re whining as he kisses you, feeling the wet spot on his slacks, while he grips the fat of your ass, pulling you down on him. “You don’t need them.”

“I just-”

“Want me to fuck your pretty pussy?” You gulp now, nodding and looking down, shocked at yourself.

What this man does.

This psychotic man.

How can he look like a kitten but be such a deviant little psycho!?

“Then get in the car. Now.”

“But… work, Choso-”

“Now.” You follow him to his car, and he’s driving insanely fast, for a man that has a damn Volvo, the safest car there is, he’s scaring the fuck out of you, when he reaches  a hand over, pulling you by your hair, kissing you at the light. “You want it, don’t you?”

“I w-want you, yes.” He moans at the words he’s died to hear.

“Then show me.”

Words and actions that seem so foreign, like the sweet exterior of him is peeling back and revealing how depraved he is, how badly he wants you, when you bend over, unzipping him as the car starts, and you’re bracing yourself on his thigh, revealing a pretty, thick cock. Your cunt starts drooling at feeling him inside your mouth, inside your throat, choking him down deep.

“Fuck… why did you have to make me so mad?” He demands, free hand entangling in your hair as you bob up and down him. “Can’t you see I did it for us, for you, to k-keep you… safe… from- mnh…”

Choso whines out as you’re lapping him up, his hand trailing down your spine to find you soaked, his other hand gripping the steering wheel when he comes to another stop. He has never been one to even let women suck him or give him oral very often, but now he finds he wants to wreck your tight little throat, to stop your bratty mouth, the things you do to him.

“Slutty panties, every day.” You should be concerned, worried maybe, but instead you’re soaking them further, as he hits the gas pedal again, forcing your mouth more on him, your tongue tasting the musky, sweet precum coating your mouth. “All for me?”

“Mmhmm…” Is all you can manage, as he continues torturing you over your panties, and comes to a stop, you are lifted off his cock, he swipes the pretty lipstick smeared on your cheek, slamming his lips down furious.

“Don’t drive me so insane, angel. I can’t take it.” He whispers, violet eyes so dilated they look black as he cups your face so tightly you cry out a bit. “I need you to be mine, no one else’s, can you do it for me?”

You nod weakly, body acting against any better judgement. “Y-yes.”

“You’re being so good for me, finally.” He’s smiling all sweet, as if he wasn’t admitting to being insane, and you can’t find any words to complain, when he picks you up in his arms, your arms wrapping his neck, his hands gripping your ass, you barely take notice of his house, aside from when you start seeing pictures of you all over his desk.

“What… is all…”

“Shh, baby.” He’s got you naked in moments, as you look in horror to see your pictures printed and scattered, you blush as you see lotion and tissues. “I’ve wanted this for so long.”

Psycho, he’s psycho…

But your pussy doesn’t really seem to care.

“Are these my panties!?” You demand, gasping when you see two pairs on his nightstand that look just like the ones you’ve had on, and Choso just shrugs a broad shoulder, arm wrapping around your body, hand slipping up to grip your throat, lips plump against your ear.

“You have plenty, too many really.”

“How-”

“Now.” Is all he murmurs, turning you and unzipping your work dress, watching as the goosebumps rise on your precious skin. “You’ll be all mine, say it angel.”

“H-huh?” He yanks that zipper until you’re completely bare, panting breaths making your chest rise and fall in Choso’s large master bedroom, where you start to see more and more things that are yours.

Missing pony tails, single earrings, a bracelet, how much of you is there exactly you wonder with a gulp, as he’s behind your bare body fully clothed. When he slips an arm around your waist, hand slipping down your tummy, making it tremble in response, your head falls back with how good it feels against any better judgement.

“You knew you did this, admit it angel.” His words are honeyed, you can feel his pout on your cheek, while he’s rubbing your clit with one hand, the other holding your body against his, curve of your back on his chest, when he grips a bare breast, squishing it in his hand and overwhelming you with sensations.

“D-didn’t know… this…”

“Tch, can’t speak already? Try… All mine. Mine, say it. Now.”

“I…”

“Now.”

“Yours.” Choso goes feral then, turning you so you’re looking up at him, and he’s cupping your face so tightly, leaning down as your shaky hands pull at the lapels of his jacket. “Please…”

“Begging, you’re so perfect, sweet like this?” You’re gulping as he steps back, eyeing your body and groaning softly, hands slipping down the sides of your breasts, down to your waist, the jut of your hips, as he drinks in your beauty. “Beautiful.”

One moment degrading, the next looking at you precious, his fingers trailing off while he then slips off his top, and you see him shirtless, his tattooed and buff body, muscles over muscles leaning to a narrow waist. A slutty waist, that’s what he has, with red tattoos along one side of his defined ribs, flat nipples, you briefly register one his pierced as he pulls that shirt over his head.

“God…” You’re trailing fingers down his body, and he turns you, until your knees hit the back of his soft bed, and you’re on your back, throwing you around like you’re nothing, slipping his pants off with your help over the plump of his firm ass, hissing when his cock is free.

“No one else can ever touch you.” His words are batshit, but your pussy is drooling, tummy clenching when he lines his blushing tip, all reddened and sticky with precum, right between your glistening folds. “No one can, right? I can’t hear your cute little mumbles.”

“F-fucking… shit…” He’s smiling a bit, yanking up one of your thighs high, positioning himself at your soppy entrance, whimpering as your hot gummy walls now engulf his tip.

“Need to hear you, words, pretty.” He’s acting all sweet, like he doesn't have his huge cock right against your hole, like he doesn’t have a screen watching your room, apps on his phone now to keep track of you, plenty of rope to keep you from leaving if he needs to, no he looks sweet.

“No one but you.” He exhales, shoving his cock inside you then, you hiss at the burn, nails digging into the strong muscles of his back as you arch up.

“G-good girl… fuck you feel perfect, I knew it.” Choso is lost then, your pussy is so tiny, struggling to take him, gushing down his veiny length to accommodate, but he’s already too far gone, he’s thought of this too much, far too much. “So fucking tiny compared to me aren’t you?”

You’re whining pathetically as he fills you, stretches you with several inches, too fucking many, your thighs tremble on his hips as he grips two of your wrists, pressing sweet kisses as he pushes them over your head, sinking in deeper and earning your hiccup of pleasure. “Choso!”

“There it is…” He’s whispering in wonder, you thought Choso would be passionate certainly, after he’d eaten you out until you literally tapped out, but the feral grin on his sweet face when he eyes you is overwhelming. He lets your wrists go to spread your thighs, moaning as he watches your tummy. “Look how big I am inside you, hmm?”

You blush as you see it, your tummy bulging and moving, he’s enamored by it, while he slows his movements, now a hand is touching your tummy, pressing just a bit to feel it. “Too much… it’s…”

“No, baby you can take it, hmm? Just like last night?”

“I passed out!?”

“You’re so pretty like that, in your sleep..” You gasp as he leans over you further, shoving your thighs up against your breasts, until you’re folded in half. “I’ll take care of you even in your sleep, you don’t have to do anything angel.”

“Choso w-what?” He’s lost now, tip slamming your cervix, pounding your pussy so deep while you’re convulsing around his length, cumming with one more slam so deep, and he moans at the sensation.

“I’ll keep fucking you, don’t worry beautiful girl. Wanted this so fuckin’ long, you know? How long…” Your eyes roll back in your skull, body struggling to keep a hold of any sense as your climax rocks through your body, as Choso’s hands press into the backs of your thighs. “God I can’t wait to fill you over and over…”

“Mnh! Too m-much…” It’s too good, when he grinds and rolls his hips, black hairs on his pelvis grinding into your engorged clit, you’re gripping those blankets, sobbing with a trembling lip as he works you, losing himself in you.

“No, you can keep going f’me, huh baby? Nod for me.” You manage a weak nod, and he’s grinning again, leaning back to spit on your clit, in a thin long trail of saliva, rubbing your clit again while sinking in your fluttering walls. “There we go, need you to take all this cum, can you?”

“Y-yes… ah m’gonna-”

“Cum, milk him baby. So good.” You’re cumming as if on command as his rough thumb and spit hits that spot, and you can’t see anything but black spots and the glow of his violet eyes and his brows contorted, when his hand leaves your clit, to press your thighs up higher. “Ready for me to fill her?”

You gulp, nodding weakly as Choso loses himself finally, in your perfect face, covered in those tears that just make him pulsate more as he finally busts his hot, gooey load so deep in your pussy, which is sucking it in greedily. You feel him everywhere as his white ropes fill your hole, coating your contracting walls, while he’s drunk off you.

Drunk and whimpering in your ear while he has your little frame folded right in half for him, your pussy so eagerly taking all he gives, so wet and messy as he kisses your swollen lips. He tastes the salt of your tears, letting your thighs fall finally, one hand entangling in your hair, pulling your head up as his tongue plunders your mouth, the other slipping down your waist, leaving goosebumps.

“God you took so much, you’re so good f’me, look at you.” You’re whining as he pushes deeper, white drizzles falling down his cock, and you blink into focus, to see his face is soft again, sweet again, like your little work bestie. He even has the audacity to blush just a bit when he leans up, caressing your face. “Perfect, pretty slut for me.”

“For you…” You should hate that, but it just makes your pussy clutch his cock, he moans then, easing out with a suctioned wet pop, his heavy cock making a sticky mess as cum starts pouring from your puffy lips. “Ah! F-fuck…”

“Look at all this, don’t you want all my cum baby?” He asks with a pout, shoving two fingers back in your pussy, watching the cum disappear with a smile.

“Too s-sensitive- you’re c-crazy…”

“You haven’t seen it all yet, baby.”

Choso has you bent over, ass in his face as he’s eating you out from the back, while you’re gripping his sheets, headboard banging on the wall when he’s back inside you, deeper like this. He has you cumming again and again, eventually tying you right up to the headboard, ropes digging tightly in your skin as he looks down at you, covered in him.

His cum, his handprints, his bites.

His, you’re his.

“I need some pictures, pretty, just a moment?” You’re delirious as you shake your head, tugging at the knots he has you in, but he’s already up, and for a brief moment you take in the surroundings, of all the things he’d stolen.

You panic momentarily when he’s back, and he’s smiling with a lidded gaze, caressing your cheek gently, down the curve of your neck. “Choso?”

“I’ll untie you, I won’t just leave you like this. Well…”

“Choso…”

“I won’t, don’t worry pretty.” He’s thinking of it, of never letting you leave the bed, he could just feed you right, keep you tied at the wrists when you needed things- 

Nah.

He shouldn’t.

Right?

“You won’t leave me now, hmm?” He’s pressing kisses on your forehead so sweetly, as you sniffle just a bit, shaking your head, earning his exhale relief. “Just a few pictures.”

Choso’s snapping them then, dark messy hair falling over his brow, adding them to the collection of photos of you inside your home, from out your window mostly, along with those from last night, of course he’d printed them. He’s positioning you just so, pressing sweet kisses while he snaps away on his phone, finally releasing your wrists, rubbing them so gently.

“Are you alright, angel?” He is frowning, so concerned like he didn’t have a growing collection of your things, you just nod a bit, as he sees where your vision heads, sighing. “I’ve had a… crush.”

“A crush?”

“Well, a really big crush. I’m in love with you.” He’s cupping your face now, smiling down at you. “Maybe I was a little shy?”

You blink before bursting into laughter, you’re losing it, you may just die or be trapped here, but you’re too fucked out to comprehend it. “Shy?”

“Yeah. You’re just so perfect, I needed the right moment. But you were bad, weren’t you? Made me so jealous.” He’s glaring, hand tightening around your throat as he kisses your lips so tenderly, thumb on your fluttering pulse. “You won’t make me jealous again, right baby?”

You shake your head, letting him kiss you now.

Choso has no intentions of letting you go, it’s the next morning and you can barely walk as he’s grinning at you, shirtless and handsome, cooking up pancakes and all sorts of yummy things. Your tummy growls in response, trying to forget the horror as you’d seen you were his pc background even, his phone background, finding more and more things all over.

“Good morning, beautiful.” He comes to you, flour on his cheek which you brush off with a trembling hand. “You should skip work today.”

“I can’t…”

“You can, don’t worry. It’s for the best, that's all, you can stay here.”

“Choso, so soon?”

“I can’t have you working, I need you home, our home. Eating good…” He’s forking a bite of pancake into your mouth, as horror mixed with the sweetness mixes in your body.

“I mean, just a day off?”

“Sure, a day.” He’s smiling brightly, as if he hasn’t already sent your boss a video of your cum pouring out of your pretty hole.

He’s sure he enjoyed it, but maybe not the not so friendly message associated with it.

But you won’t need that job anyway!

“Okay, a day won’t hurt.” You sit down and wince, sore from the endless amounts of times he’d stuffed you full with his cock.

“You need tylenol and coffee!” He’s quick to grab them for you, sitting next to you, brushing your hair back as you swallow the pills so quickly, he brushes back your hair gently, oh he’s so proud of you. “Good girl, hmm? You’re gonna feel better soon.”

Choso is BATSHIT in this my god ahaha, I cracked up writing the donut scene AND the end- TYSM again for 9k followers I am so glad you all enjoy my bullshit lol. Love you all and see you in the comments hehe <3

You know your daddy ain’t the best of men. A liar and a cheat. Hell, he’s nearly shot every boy who’s dared to step on your doorstep ever since you turned eighteen. Not because he’s not eager to get rid of you, it’s because he doesn’t intend to give another man access to the gold on his land, nor to anything else he owns. 

You wonder if that gold is what drew the visitors in last night. 

You weren’t meant to be awake. The hour was late, moon hangin’ high and pale, its light strained thin through cottoned windows. Still, you sat perched at the top of the stairwell, bare feet tucked beneath your pale nightdress, listening in as two well-dressed gentlemen occupied the parlor across from your daddy. 

You couldn’t see their faces from where you were - only fragments. One had the silkiest hair you’d ever laid eyes on, gathered low at the nape of his neck with a ribbon of worn leather. Fresh-ink dark. His voice slid out, smooth and indulgent, a sinner’s purr that had your heart thumpin’ in your chest. He had a broader frame than the two, shoulders stretching the fabric of his dark as night shirt taut, the cloth shifting with each movement. A practiced man. A smooth talker. You’d never seen your daddy so rapt and willing to listen. 

The other man was leaner, sharp in a way that made your skin prickle, hair white as a winter’s frost, posture lax, legs sprawled wide like his ma never taught him an ounce of manners. You wonder if they existed at all in his eyes. 

You shifted carefully, nudging your nightdress out of the way so you wouldn’t stumble when you stood. The floorboard, damn thing, needed a fixin’, betrayed you away. The sound was hardly more than a sigh - but it was enough for someone with the hearing of a hawk. You caught the gleam in the white-haired man's eyes. No one else seemed to notice. Your daddy didn’t pause, and the dark-haired man never broke the rhythm of his speech. Just a tap on his knee. It would’ve been easy to blame the noise on the house itself - old bones settling, or that wicked wind woryin’ in the eaves. 

But the white-haired man had seen you. 

You watched his mouth tilt, just barely forming into a knowing smile before his gaze slid away, attention folding back into the conversation as if nothin’ had happened at all. You finally released a breath, you never realized you were holdin’. 

They felt familiar, the pair of them. Not in a neighborly way, but in the sense of somethin’ you’d seen once before, like some movie poster or something from a newspaper. Not some outlaws that the folk in town had been whisperin’ about. Yet, no decent man ever smiled like that when they thought no one was watching. 

You decided not to test your luck too much, easing yourself back to your bedroom, careful of those old rickety floorboards. You thought that’d be the last of them, a one-time investment of some sort. 

Yet that one-time visit quickly became weekly visits, visits that got the town talkin’ because your daddy had been awfully sweatin’ this past month. Stressed beyond sin. Drinkin’ and smokin’ more and more before the two gentlemen’s visits. 

You weren’t sure why, but they always came with gifts. Flowers for your mother’s table. Suguru - the dark-haired one- always insisted on bringing you a new thing to wear. A broach for church, a new ribbon, sometimes a piece of jewelry. One time, you almost asked him where he got it from, such an expensive piece of rubies and silver, but the lead on your tongue was telling you not to ask such a thing. Not when his smile seemed so pure, but that gun on his hip said otherwise. Anytime he gave you a new necklace or two, you’d have this feeling to wash the piece because who knows maybe red rubies are actually white diamonds stained with something sinister. You found yourself prayin’ before bed a little harder that night. 

Satoru - the white-haired tease - seemed to favor sweets. 

Anytime he visited, he’d whistle for you, passing along a little bag of candy: sometimes taffy, sometimes a caramel or two, or if you’re lucky, a rare hard candy you’d never had the luxury of gettin’ your hands on before. Always with a note tucked inside: for my little sneak. 

He’d whistle the second he stepped onto the porch. 

“C’mon now, sugarplum,” he’d croon, loungin’ back like he owned your ma’s parlor, one boot - splattered dark along the white leather - propped right atop the nice coffee table your daddy paid a pretty penny for, bought from a man from foreign lands. “You been hidin’ from me all mornin’? Heat gettin’ to ya?”

You’d frown, your gaze settling on the stains along the side of his boot. Could be animal blood, you suppose. You’d heard a gunshot earlier that morning - folks said the coyotes got into the sheep again last night. Still, the teasin’ only deepened your scowl. 

“I ain’t hidin’,” you muttered. “Just don’t like bein’ whistled at like I’m some dog.”

“Couldn’t be no dog,” Satoru murmured, his eyes tracking every inch of you, teeth worrying at his lower lip when he noticed your fists bunch tight in the frill of your dress. “Dogs bark. You darlin’? You’re the purrin’ type. Takes a while to coax you out - more like a cat.”

Suguru only laughed softly, lifting his teacup for a slow sip. Always warm - he never bothered with ice. His fingers toyed with a strip of wood and a knife, carving something careful and precise. Your eyes could never settle on him; he was always too pretty. Yet it seems wherever he was, he was always focused on you, too. Like a wolf stalkin’ prey. 

“Be nice, Toru,” he cooed, his voice gentle in a way that reminded you painfully of your mother’s, back when you’d cry yourself into hysterics, “We’re guests, remember?”

“Ah. You’re right.”

Satoru’s grin stretched wider as he leaned forward, catching a loose strand of your hair between two slender fingers as you sat beside him. His crystalline gaze locked onto yours, voice drawlin’ low. “Forgive me, sugar. It’s just hard to behave when you’re sittin’ there lookin’ like temptation. Almost makes a man wanna settle down in the next town over.” 

When you sat with him in the parlor that late afternoon with the bugs buzzin’ in the fields, you tried not to look at the blood on his boots resting carelessly on your ma’s nice table. A man with no manners whatsoever. 

And your daddy - for all the beast he could be - never once told you to stay away from them. Perhaps he couldn’t because of things you’d never be able to understand. 

You noticed, though. Every time your daddy’s eyes landed on you talkin’ with them, or when Suguru leaned close to tuck a wildflower into your hair, your daddy’s gaze would dart straight to his boot tips, as if the snake embellish was far more interesting than your conversation. His hands would fidget, restless and unsure, fingers flexin’ like he wanted to reach for a gun that wouldn’t do him a lick of good. 

Your ma was no use either. It seemed the moment those men started comin’ around, the doctor began prescribin’ her a tonic - to ease her nerves, your daddy said. All of it started after you heard glass breakin’ between the two of them one night when you should’ve been on your knees prayin’ before bed. 

Now, she just lingers in her rocking chair on the porch, the slow creak of the wood the only sound she makes anymore. Her embroidery lies untouched in her lap, thread gone slack between her fingers. Her eyes were glassy, dulled over, like she was lookin’ clean through the world instead of at it and its wonders of what’s to come. 

You found yourself curlin’ up beside her more and more, the way a child would. Layin’ with your head in her lap, guidin’ her hand back into your hair whenever it slipped away. Sometimes she’d stroke it absentmindedly, fingers movin’ on muscle memory alone. 

After a long while, she speaks. 

“Used to be my daddy’s land,” she murmured, voice thin and distant, like she was talkin’ to someone long gone. “Mama’s before him, too. Every fence post, acre, tree… I know it all by heart.” 

Her fingers stilled in your hair. 

“Funny how easy it is for somethin’ to stop bein’ yours,” she added softly. “All it takes is the right kind of man.” 

You didn’t know if she meant your daddy - or the men who’d come after. 

✩₊˚.⋆☾𓃦☽⋆⁺₊✧

A few months pass, winter comin’, and your daddy grows more hysterical than usual - frayed thin, like a rope used too long.  

He keeps himself cooped up in his office now, pacing restless grooves into the floorboards and grinding his boots into the rugs you scrubbed clean on a warm Saturday afternoon. All that careful work ruined, fibers darkened and worn. His guns - polished to a dull, obsessive shine - hang heavy on his hips even inside the supposed safety of the house. He checks them often, fingers lingering too long on the grips, like cold steel might make up for everything that’s already slipped out through his hands. 

He doesn’t come to supper anymore. No matter how hard you try. Not even now, when you’re the one cookin’, stretchin’ meals thin since he fired the maids in one sharp, liquor-soaked rage. He’d muttered then about money bleedin’ out, about gold vanishing like smoke, somethin’ about trust bein’ a fool’s currency.

Plate sittin’ cold on the table, untouched. You eat alone more often than not, with the house echoing hollow around you. Once filled with life, now with none other than you and that beast of a man.

You haven’t seen much of your two wolves lately, either, not that you minded. Though the company would be nice. 

Their visits had grown scarce, then vanished altogether. No whistle cuttin’ through the porch air. No flowers laid gentle on the table with rose thorns already trimmed - not even your mother’s grave tucked quietly and unmarked on the edge of the property. Your daddy never put up a headstone, nor a cross. Said stone was expensive and nobody ain’t got the time to carve wood. Said names didn’t matter once the dirt had settled. Only God needed to know where she lay. 

No sweets slipped into your palm. Not even a careless grin. No folded note you’d later feed to the fire watchin’ the ink curl and blacken into nothin’. 

You tell yourself it must mean they’ve finished the work they were hired for. That the land is secure now. That whatever bargain your daddy struck - however crooked it may have been - has been settled and closed. 

But late at night, when the house creaks and sighs like it’s rememberin’ better days, you hear him mutterin’ behind his office door. Words whispered sharp and brittle - owed, soon, can’t - each one cracking under the weight of panic. 

And still the house feels watched. 

Like somethin’ patient is lingerin’ just beyond the fence line, breath slow and steady, waitin’ for a man to realize he’s out of gold and only got flesh left to offer. 

✩₊˚.⋆☾𓃦☽⋆⁺₊✧

The bank came by in the early spring, when the ground was still soft, and the air smelled like thawed earth and old promises. That if you survive the winter, you can somehow pay off your debts before the law gets you. The man spoke politely, but firmly, his hat held tight in his hands as he explained your daddy was overdue on his credit. Said papers had been filed. Said a sheriff from the next town over would be stoppin’ by soon enough to collect what was owed - one way or another. 

You tried talkin’ to your daddy after. 

You pressed your forehead to the office door, the wood warm from the fire with the sound of pacing on the other side, and you whispered like it were prayer. “Daddy.. What’s goin’ on?” 

What came back wasn’t an answer. More like a bark from a dog. “Get.” 

The word cracked through and straight to your chest. You didn’t ask again. 

You stopped showin’ your face at church after that. You weren’t goin’ to walk there either after Daddy sold the horses. You knew - even with the tough hide you’d grown over the past year - you wouldn’t survive the looks, the murmured scripture, the quiet cruelty sharpened behind their tight smiles and frilly fans. You could already hear their words, feel them like welts before they landed. 

They’d say your daddy bled himself dry. That he hired unlawful men and mistook wolves for guards. Let them drain the land down to bone and dust. 

They’d whisper that your daddy was the reason your ma lay in the ground without a stone. Whatever broke her started long before that tonic ever touched her lips. 

And maybe, alone in the quiet, with nothin’ but the creak of the house and your own breath for company, you wondered if they were right. 

They didn’t come like wolves that night. 

They came like men collectin’ a debt long overdue. 

Suguru stood easy in the lamplight, posture relaxed, hands folded loose as if this were a cordial visit instead of a reckoning. His voice carried smooth and measured, silk-soft but edged sharp beneath the polish. “Now, now,” he murmured, tone mild as warm tea. “There’s no need for all that noise. We’re only here to settle things.” 

Your daddy stalked the length of the room, boots grinding against the scuffed floorboards, breath coming hard and uneven. His fingers twitched near the holsters at his hips, knuckles pale, eyes wild and bloodshot. 

“You think I don’t know what you are?” he snapped, spittle flying. “You ain’t law. Ain’t got no badge. Ain’t got no right to be standin’ in my house -” 

Suguru hummed thoughtfully, tilting his head just so, dark hair slipping loose over his shoulder. A fox considering a trap already sprung. 

“Law’s a funny thing,” he said softly. “It listens closely to money. Guns do some persuadin’, sure - but money…” His smile curved, slow and knowing. Already winning the game. “Money does most of the biddin’ around here.” 

His gaze drifted then, unhurried and thorough. Over the stripped shelves. The overturned drawers. The safe yawning open, empty as a mouth with teeth pulled clean. 

Something like sympathy flickered across his serene face. As if practiced. 

“Looks like you’re in a bit of trouble,” Suguru added gently, almost kindly.

✩₊˚.⋆☾𓃦☽⋆⁺₊✧

You awoke - just like the first night they came - just this time to shouts and hollers tearing through the house. 

“You ain’t no sheriff!” Your daddy screeched, glass shattering on the floor, the sharp crash echoing loud enough to rattle the walls. You figured it was the last of his liquor, flung empty and desperate. 

You stayed in bed, frozen beneath the quilt, breath trapped in your chest as your hands fumbled for the letter opener tucked inside your bedside drawer. Anything for a lick of protection. You held still like a child waitin’ for a storm to pass.

Another voice slipped through the walls - far too calm and amused for anything good to come of it. 

“Oh, but I am now,” came the lazy drawl. Satoru’s voice, thick with smugness, a grin folded right into the syllables. “Sheriff of that sweet little town downriver. Ain’t it funny how quick folks’ll hand you a badge when you clear out a few problems for ‘em?”

You could hear him move then.

The sound of his boots - always light on his feet - crossing broken glass. Unhurried. Confident.

“They even asked kindly to help out this shithole of a town,” he went on lightly. “Seems there’s been a bit of an issue between you and the bank.”

A pause, you could hear the teasin’ lilt behind his voice, that cocky grin of his burned into your mind. Somethin’ you think a little too often, sometimes unholy things. 

“’Course, they didn’t ask too many questions about how we went about fixin’ things,” he added lightly. “Guess givin’ the people peace over a mongrel like you is reason enough to want you dead.”

“I’ll give you anything you want,” your daddy choked out.

You heard him scrambling, boots skiddin’ uselessly across spilled liquor and broken glass, breath hitchin’ sharp and wet like he couldn’t quite pull enough air into his lungs. A gun clicked, loud and naked in the space, the sound trembling with the same panic that cracked his voice.

“My daughter,” he blurted, tryin’ to save his skin. “Yeah? You took an interest, didn’t you? You both did?”

That was when you slid from your bed. Almost like a cue that things are about to get bad. If your daddy was savin’ his skin. You should be, too. 

Bare feet met the cold floor, slow and careful, every step calculated as you crept toward the door. Your fingers clenched tight around the letter opener, its thin blade biting into your palm, useless but comforting all the same. The house groaned softly around you, old wood complaining under the weight of what was about to happen.

A low whistle cut through the hall.

Not playful like Satoru’s. A sharper sound. You knew without seeing him that it belonged to Suguru.

“Sellin’ off your daughter?” Suguru said softly, voice smooth as oil, touched with something almost like amusement. “When you haven’t even paid us for all that work we did for ya?”

You pressed closer to the door, heart batterin’ your ribs like an untamed stallion, fingers clenched white around the letter opener. The house felt too small, walls closing in, the air thick with the coppery tang of fear.

“We slaughtered every man in those mines,” Suguru went on calmly, like he was recitin’ figures from a ledger. “You think that’s easy on the mind?”

A beat passed. You wonder if your daddy was a stammerin’ mess and you just couldn’t hear it. Beggin’ and pleadin’ like a sinner in church. 

The only thing that broke the silence was Satoru with a long and dramatic sigh, like a bored child denied a treat from the general store down the road.

“Aw, c’mon,” he whined lightly, voice sing-song and wrong in the middle of all that panic. “Can’t we just kill him already?” You could hear him shift his weight, boots scraping lazy circles through broken glass. “We were gonna take the girl anyway.”

Your stomach dropped at the sound of that. There was a wet, choking sound from your daddy, something between a sob and a prayer gone unanswered.

Suguru didn’t answer right away.

You imagined him standing there in the lamplight, considering it, head tilted, expression thoughtful, as if Satoru had just asked a reasonable question instead of sealin’ a man’s fate to be hung.

“…Toru,” Suguru murmured at last, gentle but firm. “Don’t be rude.”

The pause stretched. Suffocating.

“But,” he added smoothly, “you’re not wrong.”

The words settled heavy in the air, pressin’ down on your chest until your breath came thin and sharp, each inhale scraped raw against your ribs.

You had choices. Not real ones, only the kind that are ugly and desperate when the world has already made up its mind for your fate. 

You could run.

Bare feet slapping against warped floorboards, the skirt of your nightgown gathered tight in shaking fists as you bolted into the night. The spring air would bite cruel and wet, the last of the frost still meaning business, stiffenin’ your joints and burnin’ your lungs as you fled toward town. You could pray your legs were faster than theirs. Pray the dark loved you enough to hide you.

You could stay quiet. Melt back into the house’s narrow bones, wedge yourself into some forgotten corner and hope the men who’d stalked mines and slaughtered towns somehow overlooked a trembling girl and her ragged breath.

You could beg. Fall to your knees and offer tears where gold had failed. Hope mercy lived somewhere behind sharp smiles and even sharper eyes.

You could even fight - rush them with the letter opener clenched white-knuckled in your fist, blade flashing, desperate and small. Save your daddy. But the thought soured before it could settle.

You knew, deep and certain, that he’d sell you again in a heartbeat if it bought him one more breath. One more chance to crawl free.

The house groaned softly around you, old wood sighing as it had already accepted what was coming.

So you ran.

You didn’t care that you were still in your nightdress, thin cotton clingin’ uselessly to your skin as it snagged and tore against brush and fence wire. You didn’t care that the cold bit straight through you, numbin’ your legs even as they burned, muscles screaming with every frantic step.

You didn’t care about the gunshot that cracked the night wide open behind you - too loud, too close - nor the sound that followed it: bright, childlike laughter, sharp and delighted, chasin’ after you through the dark. Boots struck the dirt hard and sure behind you, unhurried, like they knew you’d tire long before they would.

Tears streamed down your face, hot and blinding, streakin’ your vision until the world smeared into shadows and silver moonlight. Your breath tore ragged from your chest, each inhale shallow and panicked, throat achin’ like it might close up entirely. You stumbled more than once, heart a hammerin’ so violently you swore they’d hear the wretched sound poundin’ in your ears.

You didn’t care if wolves or coyotes were out tonight, teeth gleaming somewhere beyond the fence line, hunger sharp enough to rip you apart. You’d grown up on stories - whispered warnings about girls who were alone with no protection, about what happened when they were caught by men worse than beasts.

You weren’t goin’ to be another one of those stories. Not to be another cautionary tale at church. Not another girl laid in the dirt without a marker to say she’d ever been here at all.

You ran and ran until your foot caught on a fallen branch, and you hit the ground hard, cheek scraping against bark, blood already trickling warm down your knee. You scrambled, breath hiccupping in your chest, draggin’ yourself through leaves and rot until you found it: a hollowed-out tree, just wide enough to crawl into.

You curled tight, knees pressed to your chest, the letter opener shaking uselessly in your hand. Blood streaked across the white of your nightdress. An unforgivin’ color. Adrenaline spiked too high for you to even consider the pain. Your feet throbbed. Frost crept up your spine like ghost fingers from those stories you’d share at the bonfire. 

And still, you heard them coming. Satoru’s voice rang out first = sing-song, giddy, off.

“Just like a cat, Sugu!” he cackled. “Dogs’ll come runnin’ to a whistle, but this one? She’s got claws.” A pause, boots crunching closer. “We’ll have to get her a bell.”

You clapped a hand over your mouth, chest heaving, hot tears streaming past your fingers. Every breath you took was laced with pine and blood and terror.

Suguru didn’t laugh at that. You could picture him hummin’ at the thought. Like he could pick you out a nice ribbon in town just for a soft bell to lay against your throat. You only heard his soft whistle, a tune of sorts. A lullaby for prey. Not hunting. Just waitin’ to see if his trap worked.

“Play nice, Toru,” Suguru’s voice slipped through the trees, unhurried, almost affectionate. “She just lost her daddy. She’s gonna need a couple of strong men to take care of her now, hm?”

You shoved yourself deeper into the hollow, splinters biting into your back. Your hand slipped in blood. Your lungs ached. Tears wouldn’t stop streamin’.

“Boo!”

Satoru exploded into view like a firework, crouched just inches from your face, his grin feral, unhinged, too wide for his face. Eyes glitterin’ with wild delight, pupils blown wide, frosty hair disheveled from the run, cheeks flushed with exhilaration.

“There you are,” he panted, breath hot in the cold air, fog curling from his lips. “God, you run so cute. Sugar, sugar, sugar - look at you! All scratched up and sobbin’. Good thing we’re here to patch ya up!”

He reached for you, fingers blood-slick and shakin’ from all the excitement. You’d never seen a man so joyful until he grabbed your ruined knee. You cried out, sharp and pained, as he dug his blunt nails into the open wound, thumb pressing into torn skin like he meant to keep you there by the bone.

“Oh, sugarplum,” he cooed, and that grin didn’t waver. “Don’t cry like that. You’ll make me worse.”

His other hand slid up, knuckles brushing your face, smearing a tear across your cheek. His eyes didn’t blink - just drank you in, tremblin’ with the high of having found you.

“You look so pretty when you’re scared.”

Satoru dragged you from your hiding place like it was nothing, hauling you out into the cold dirt and pinning you there beneath him. He loomed over you, all long limbs and feverish energy, his knee wedged firm between your thighs to keep you still. His sky‑blue eyes drank you in, bright and blown wide, alight with the manic thrill of finally having you right where he wanted.

Suguru’s voice followed, low and indulgent, drifting in like a cruel comfort.

“Sorry about him,” he cooed gently, “He’s been waitin’. And waitin’. Took a long time to get here to you.”

Bile burned up the back of your throat.

Suguru’s presence settled closer, not touching, not needing to. His shadow stretched long and deliberate over you, causing you to fold into yourself more. Like prey. 

All you could shake out between hiccupin’ sobs was a string of, “Please let me go,” and “I won’t say nothin’.”

“You ought to think about what comes after,” he said gently, voice low and patient, like how your ma would be when you were throwin’ an awful tantrum. “A young woman found alone. Nightdress torn. No father left to speak for her.” His violet eyes traced the ruined hem of cotton, the scraped skin, the trembling in your hands. “Two men with her.”

Men carried weight. Finality.

“Towns don’t care for truth,” Suguru continued softly. “They care for stories. And stories rot quicker than bodies.” A pause, almost tender, you watched his silky hair in the night shake with his head as he pondered what could come of you if they let you go. “No dowry. No family. No man lining up to marry what folks already believe has been spoiled.”

The forest felt closer then, branches crowding, shadows thickening, the air gone damp and cold as if the night itself were closing ranks.

“Best case,” he went on, mild as a sermon, “you’d be passed from place to place on pity alone. Worst case…” He let the silence finish it. “There are houses for girls who don’t belong anywhere else. Places you’ll have to pay without money. Awful places.”

Your breath shook, whether it be from the cold or the way Satoru straddled you, sittin’ right on your torso, barely putting his weight down but enough for you to struggle. 

Satoru shifted above you, restless energy finally finding its shap. Hands searching, finding place on your cheek or under your nightdress. Thumbs brushing over your hardened buds in awe, you could see the drool on his soft pink lips as he drew himself to you. He really was a man with no manners. His touch wasn’t hurried. It was hungry. Lovesick. As if he’d waited his whole life to feel you breathe beneath his palms.

“That’s why I fixed it,” Satoru added on quickly, almost breathless. “Took care of the law part. Nobody gets to decide things about you anymore.” His voice wobbled with something like relief, eyes shining too bright in the dark. “I couldn’t stand the thought of them touchin’ you. Talkin’ about you like you were already gone.”

He leaned closer, forehead nearly brushing yours, devotion cracking through his grin. All you could stare at was how his blue eyes seemed to have matched the moonlight glow tonight. “We’re keepin’ you safe,” he insisted softly. “That’s what sheriffs do. That’s what I do.Suguru will handle the church, and I’ll handle the law.”

Suguru smiled then, his hand moving to pet your hair like your mother would, blunt nails against the scalp, slow movements like calming a frightened animal.

 “We’re the only ones who love you enough to stay,” he murmured. “The world isn’t kind to girls left alone.”

The woods stood silent around you. No lantern light. No roads. No witnesses. Just dark trees, damp earth, and the distant, lonely sound of something howling far off.

Satoru’s mouth brushed close to your ear, his voice dropping sweet and thrilled into the quiet.

“It’s okay to holler,” he whispered. “Nothin’ but us and the wolves out here. We’ll make sure you’re still honorable for your weddin’ day.”

Could you even tell the difference anymore? Between the man and the beasts outside? 

Leavin' you prayin' while Satoru’s mouth sucked against your neck and something hard pressed against your bare thigh. The sound of an unbuckle near your head where Suguru sat. Dread lay thick in your stomach. Nothin' but hope that this was all just a dreadful dream. That you were still in the summer heat, curled next to your ma. 

Would've been better to be eaten by the wolves.

✩₊˚.⋆☾𓃦☽⋆⁺₊✧

He remembers that when he first cut his thumb to swipe his blood along your choker, it took monumental self-control to keep from shoving it past your closed lips and forcing you to drink his blood straight from the source — so that a piece of him would always be part of you. And when you hesitated to cut yourself for a brief moment, looking to him first for assurance, before nicking your finger and giving your blood to his choker, the urge to grab the digit and give it a harsh suck had been almost painful to suppress.

However, even his sick satisfaction with knowing that you never take off the choker, not even when sleeping or showering, isn’t enough to explain what has him so obsessed with the ubiquitous device.

The answer finally comes to him one day, months after his perverse fixation began, when you’re sitting innocently across from him and he’s daydreaming about stringing you up in Tokushin’s net and fucking you from behind, your bonds only tightening with every brutal thrust of his cock into your dripping and abused cunt. You’re complaining about the paperwork Semiu has been nagging you to complete, protesting that as a giver who rarely, if ever, sees combat, you’re ill-suited to filling out reports. You insist that it should be Team Eager’s leader — giving Tamsy a pointed look — that should have to complete them. 

It’s as he gives you an indulgent smile and gently admonishes you — just enough affection and amusement in his voice to keep it from feeling like he’s lecturing you as he says that Semiu is just doing her job as the Cleaners’ receptionist — that he gets to the part in his fantasy where reality crashes down on him with all the strength of a trash beast.

Because in his head, he imagines slipping his fingers beneath the back of your choker and yanking on it hard enough to have your back arching in an unnatural angle, or as unnatural an angle as Tokushin’s iron restraints will allow. But then he realizes that you’re wearing your choker so tightly that he doubts his fingers would even fit between the thick cord and your fragile skin. 

Where everyone else's chokers hang loosely around the base of their necks, roomy enough that they usually leave the hollow of the throat exposed, yours is snugly wrapped around the middle of your neck.

The revelation — because it truly is a revelation — goes straight to his cock, and he’s thankful for how the many layers of fabric that make up his baggy uniform, the table between you that hides his lap, and his unflappable nature all work in his favor. 

In all of his many, many, many fantasies, never once has he imagined that having something tightly wound around your neck — whether it’s his hands, Tokushin’s ropes, his belt, his tie, the hose to his oxygen tank, a seatbelt in the backseat of one of the cars, even his own long, silky strands on more than one occasion — would actually be welcome. 

There’s a small part of him that’s disappointed. Your tears, your choked pleas for him to stop, your nails biting into the backs of his hands, your fingers frantically trying to yank whatever’s around your neck loose, your gulping gasps when he withdraws his cock from your throat that last only as long as it takes for him to constrict your air supply again, and the look of betrayal in your shining eyes as the light fades from them have always been integral to every fantasy. 

But the disappointment is quick to pass because while you clearly prefer having your choker snug, he thinks that if you were ever forced to confront it, you would be left lost and confused about what it might say about you. After all, when he found you, when he saved you, the first thing that you had done was to beg with tear-filled eyes for him to break the constricting metal collar that your captors had welded shut around your neck. 

So his fantasies begin to take a slightly different shape. You’re still helpless beneath him. You’re still desperately trying to loosen the grip on your throat. You’re still crying and pleading and wasting what precious little breath you have to ask him why. But now there’s an added layer.

Because now, when he dreams of you helpless beneath him, your pussy is dripping with the sticky strands of your arousal. Now, when you desperately try to loosen the grip on your throat, your pussy clenches down around his cock in time with every squeeze of his hands. Now, when you’re crying and pleading and wasting what precious little breath you have to ask him why, it’s not why are you doing this to me, Tamsy, but instead why do you like it when he does this to you.

He knows it might break you to realize that the symbol of your captivity, when your worth was measured only in a monetary amount, is the same thing that makes you wet. And he hopes for it. 

It’s easy to find you alone, wandering the halls of HQ late one night. It’s no secret that you’ve always kept odder hours. However, it’s not him who finds you but Tokushin, one of its threads silently trailing after you in the dark. The yarn is light enough that you don’t notice it as it slides up your body, closer and closer to your neck. 

You remain so clueless, even as the thread reaches your choker, that Tamsy feels like it’s his duty as a fellow Cleaner to caution you about being more aware of your surroundings. But for now, he’ll reap the rewards of your ignorance as he uses Tokushin to pop open your choker and remove it from your person entirely. 

He watches you from the other end of the hallway with a frown as you continue to walk away, Tokushin retreating towards him, the end of the string wrapped around your choker. You really should be paying better attention, even in the safety of HQ. 

When it reaches him, he plucks your choker from Tokushin’s thread before it rewinds itself around the wooden spindle in his pocket. Anima drains from the object and it becomes a simple distaff once more. 

The choker is warm between his fingers, still carrying your body heat after having been flush with your skin for so long, and Tamsy can’t help but rub it slowly against his cheek with a contented sigh. He could spend the rest of the night just savoring the feel of your choker, but you’re about to enter the stairwell and he doesn’t want to let you get too far. 

He calls out your name and you come to an immediate stop, your foot hanging in midair above the first step down. You look back and when you see him walking towards you, you turn to face him fully, the curious frown on your lips quickly morphing into a cheerful smile. 

“I didn’t realize you were back already. I thought the job was gonna take another day or two,” you greet him. “Did everything go all right?”

He smiles in return with a nod and an affirmative hum, but your attention is quickly drawn away from the topic of his assignment to the choker twirling around his index finger. Your eyebrows knit together in confusion. You instinctively bring a hand up to your neck, only for shock to light up your features when you realize that it’s your choker that Tamsy is twirling around his finger. 

“You dropped this,” he needlessly points out, both the dark and your surprise providing him with enough cover to keep his gaze trained on your fingers as you rub the bare skin of your throat where your choker usually sits. 

“Yeah, I guess it got loose. Thanks for grabbing it. It would have been so annoying if someone else found it first,” you reply, your nose wrinkling at the thought. “I’d never hear the end of how I’m constantly losing things.”

“It’s a good thing I’m around,” he offers, his tone benign. He gestures for you to come closer and a rush of satisfaction courses through him when you close the gap between you without a second thought. You hold out your hand to take the device from him, but he shakes his head and leans down to meet you. “Let me.”

Your eyes briefly widen in surprise, before hesitation creeps into your demeanor. You slightly curl in on yourself and your hand drops from your throat as you begin to play with your fingers, a clear sign of your nervousness. 

“A-are you sure?” you ask, suddenly extremely conscious of how little space there is between you. 

“Mhmm. This way I can make sure it’s on right,” he explains, entirely rational. He’s already opening it and raising the band before you can protest any further. 

It’s a simple thing — all he has to do is loop it around your neck and snap it shut, maybe give it a gentle tug to ensure the clasp isn’t faulty. But he didn’t orchestrate this late-night run-in to be done with it all in a few quick seconds. 

So, he leans even closer in and takes his time sliding the choker around the back of your neck. He skims his fingertips along your skin under the pretense of trying to guide the band to the exact spot where he knows you wear it. You’ve never had a very good poker face, and even if there weren’t only a few inches separating you, he would never miss the shiver that runs up your spine at the sensation. 

“You know, I’ve noticed that you wear your choker a little tighter than most people,” he remarks absently as he fiddles with the ends. 

He thinks if you weren’t so thrown off by the unexpected turn your night has taken — or if you weren’t so trusting of him — you might think it odd that someone with his skills in combat is taking so long to do what’s essentially an everyday task. 

“Y-yeah, I guess…” you murmur, clearly distracted by the way his thumb sweeps a small line right up the center of your throat. “I haven’t really thought about it. It just…seems like that’s how it should fit.”

When he brings his face just a little closer to your neck, he can feel each one of your exhales on his temple. He’s sure you’re aware of it as well, considering how your breathing starts to quicken. 

“It’s just a little surprising since you spent so long with something trapped around your neck,” he says. His tone is casual, like the observation just came to him and that he doesn’t think much of it. His words are punctuated by a soft click! as he snaps the choker closed, and the noise combined with the abrupt mention of your past has you freezing. “And they kept it tight, didn’t they? I can still see the scar here.”

“I d-don’t…it’s not…” you stumble over your words, unnerved by the reminder of your time in captivity and the collar that you had been forced to wear for so long that it left a permanent ring etched into your skin. 

You can faintly recall how self-conscious you used to be of the scar when you first joined the Cleaners, and how it was only the scar that took up almost half of Tamsy’s face that eventually eased your anxiety. Because, while you don’t know the history of it, if he could wear a scar so prominently on his beautiful face without a care, then shouldn’t you be able to as well?

“Actually, I remember being surprised you took the choker to begin with. I thought I’d have to convince you to at least wear it on your wrist,” he muses with a soft huff of laughter. He continues to fiddle with the clasp, tightening it so slowly that you don’t even notice — like a frog jumping into warm water without realising the temperature is incrementally increasing. 

He’s so close that he doesn’t only see you swallow, but the sound echoes in his ears. Your tongue peeks out as you lick your lips and he has to hold in his sigh of longing at the hint of pink, settling instead for relishing how your wet lips now shine in the moonlight filtering in through the windows. 

What he wouldn’t give to see you drooling around his cock, your spit messily trailing past your chin and down your throat to coat Tokushin’s fibers, your saliva becoming another cherished part of his Vital Instrument. 

“Y-you said it was important for me to wear it. That it connects us,” you finally reply, breathless from the position he has you in and the topic he’s brought up. He glances at you to see the slightly dazed way you’re staring at the ceiling, fully exposing your throat to him, too trusting to be aware of the danger he poses. 

“That’s right,” he hums pleasantly. “It ties us together.”

With your gaze directed up and away from him, he allows his mask to slip for the briefest moment, his lips stretching into a wide, sadistic grin as he suddenly tightens your choker beyond how you normally wear it. Your reaction is instantaneous — you gasp, your body tenses, and your hand makes an aborted gesture to grab onto the front of his jacket, your senses half a second behind your reflexes, before it changes course and reaches up to the choker itself, only for him to bat your hand away. 

“Tamsy! It’s too tight!” you protest, although it comes out as more of a wheeze, your chest rising and falling rapidly as panic begins to build. He’s never heard you say his name with such anguish and it sounds so beautiful, like a perfect melody.

His posture straightens as stands back up to his full height, looming over you in the dark, and when he sees the mixture of confusion, fear, and alarm on your face, it’s almost enough to make him groan and shove you to your knees — all that’s missing are streaks of his cum. 

But it’s the desperation he sees in your eyes that will stay with him forever, the way you’re pleading with him because you know that he’s the only one who can provide you clemency. It’ll fuel every fantasy he has of you from that point on. Every time he imagines something wound around your throat or his cock pistoning in and out of your pussy or your knees forced wide open by Tokushin’s strings, it’ll be with the same desperation coloring your expression. 

He turns pitying as he looks down on you. He’s released the choker — it’s tight enough that it stays in place without needing to be held — but his hands are still loosely hanging around your neck. He soothingly rubs small circles on your throat with his thumbs as he shushes you, like he’s trying to calm a spooked animal.

“Shhhhh, you’re fine. It’s just a little snug,” he consoles you, every word dripping with condescension as he makes light of your distress. 

“Tamsy,” you beg, helpless to what you believe is his uncharacteristic cruelty, but he just shakes his head and gives you a look of sympathy. 

“I can’t make it looser. It could just fall off again,” he explains, as if he’s telling a child why they need to take their foul-tasting medicine. He almost sounds pained, like it hurts him as much as the choker is hurting you. His thumbs haven’t ceased moving along your throat and he softly gives you another shush. “You’ll get used to it.”

It looks like you’re about to protest and tell him again that it’s too tight. 

“Be good for me and take it, okay?” he breathes into what little space remains between you, and he’s surprised he doesn’t come on the spot with how quickly the fight drains from you at what appear to have been the magic words. 

“These chokers are the only way you and I can stay constantly connected,” he murmurs as he watches how your breathing begins to calm, your tension easing with each rub of his thumbs. “So, you have to be good.”

You nod dumbly in his hold and he lets one of his thumbs trail just slightly down until it’s right above the center of your choker. He waits half a beat and then applies just enough pressure on the middle of your throat for it to be noticeable. He wonders if it’s going to set you off again, especially when your hand suddenly grabs his wrist, but rather than trying to push him away, you simply cling to him — like those pathetic little kittens hanging from branches in those lame motivational posters that turn up every so often in the trash. 

While his expression remains sympathetic, as he takes in the way your lips have slightly parted, how your pupils have blown wide, and how your breathing is picking up again, only this time not from panic, he can hear the resounding cackle in his head as his internal self celebrates the realization of his fantasy.  

He stays perfectly still, allowing himself another minute to savor the moment, before he loosens his hold on your neck, although he refrains from releasing you altogether. Instead, he returns to fiddling with the clasp of your choker, as if he’s checking one final time that it’s secure.

“Now, aren’t you gonna say thank you?” he gently teases you. However, the small, playful smile that tugs at the corner of his lip is belied by the flash of something darker in his eyes. 

It takes you a moment to come back to yourself. Your eyelashes flutter as you blink and your tongue makes a second appearance that evening when it darts out again to wet your lips. 

“T-thank you, Tamsy,” you say in a broken whisper, and he internally scoffs in disbelief over how good his luck is that not only does he have his hands around your throat, but you’re actually thanking him for it.

“Anything for my favorite teammate,” he assures you with a smile so genial that it has his eyes turning into two crescents. He slowly lets go of you entirely. But as he drops his hands back to his sides, it doesn’t escape him how your own hand is reluctant to release his wrist. 

He takes a step back, putting a more appropriate amount of space between you, as the tense and heated aura hanging over you both slowly begins to dissipate. However, he can see how the awkwardness still continues to linger in your form, like you’re not sure what’s just happened or how to act.

“You really should get on a more regular sleeping schedule,” he gently chides, his tone laced with concern. “Don’t I owe you a trip into town soon? How am I supposed to take you if you’re going to sleep just as the day is starting?”

The nagging seems to reestablish the sense of normalcy you were desperately scrambling for because your features scrunch together unattractively. He watches with hawklike eyes as your hand absently reaches up to instinctively adjust your choker before you realize what you’re doing and drop it.

“You’re starting to sound like Delmon,” you grumble, your fingers toying with each other again to keep them busy, and he snorts with amusement. “Fine. I’m off to bed.”

You give him a half-hearted wave as you begin to head in the direction that you both came from. But just as you pass him, he says your name and loosely wraps his fingers around your wrist to stop you before you can make it much further. You look up at him curiously only to freeze, because while he’s still wearing the same smile that you’re so used to seeing from him, there’s now something about it that unsettles you. 

You don’t know what it is or why you feel your skin breaking out in goosebumps, your hair standing on end. There’s nothing out of the ordinary about how he’s looking at you, but for some reason, you feel like you’re trapped in the threads of a spider’s web. What confuses you even more is the unexpected urge you feel to squeeze your thighs together.

“You look good with a collar,” he says, looking pointedly down at your choker.

Your mouth suddenly feels dry. Dread pools in your stomach. A small tremble appears in your fingers. 

Not once have you ever thought of the choker you willingly wore — that keeps you connected to the people you’ve come to care so dearly about — as anything similar to the collar that tore your skin and chained you to your captors.  

But is he right in referring to it as just another collar? You’re becoming increasingly aware of how tight the choker feels around your neck all over again. 

“Tamsy…” you trail off, entirely helpless before him. 

He simply smiles in return, as if his words hadn’t sent you spiraling, and lifts a hand back up to your neck, his baggy sleeve sliding down his forearm as he does. He manages to squeeze the tip of his left pinky — the only one he still has — beneath the band’s center, making you flinch harshly. With the finger he’s hooked around it, he gives it an unexpectedly harsh tug that has you tripping slightly towards him, before he releases you again. Your own hand comes up reflexively to rub your throat as you watch him with wide, teary eyes.

“All that’s missing is a little bell, so I always know where to find you,” he teases, but there’s something slightly darker in his tone that makes you think for a second he’s not joking. You forcefully shake your head and tell yourself to forget it because this is Tamsy. “Be good and get some sleep, okay?”

you've been taking care of him for days now—feeding him, tending to the scratches you swore were nothing, making sure he's warm, letting him lean against you while he recovers. each small gesture, each quiet moment together, has built a tension you hadn't fully recognized until now. the way he waits for your attention, the way he studies you in silence—it's becoming impossible to ignore.

you inch away from the couch and he leans against the armrest, eyes never leaving you, voice low and smooth. "don't wander too far. i like having you in my sight."

that's when it hits—you feel it in your chest, in the small hairs on your arms. the way he watches, every glance, every flicker of muscle, like he's memorizing you piece by piece. the heat radiating off him, quiet but insistent, makes your skin hum and pulse in a way you didn't expect.

your movements feel deliberate now, almost instinctive, every shift of your weight pulling him closer. every brush of your fingers along the couch, every tremble in your breath, makes him lean in, pressing his heat against you. the tip of his nose brushes your shoulder. his hands roam—gripping, kneading, dragging along the curve of your neck, the line of your jaw, the swell of your chest. you shiver under his touch, back arching, hips tilting into him without thought.

he murmurs your name over and over, low and wet against your ear, calling you his human as his lips trace shallow kisses down your neck, then biting just hard enough to make you gasp. his hands wander to your thighs, pressing, squeezing, moving you against him until every inch of you aches for more. you grind against him, chest flush, nipples brushing the fabric of his shirt, desperate for friction, for contact, for the way he dominates without words.

when he tips you back, presses you fully into the couch, skin sliding against skin, you're caught entirely but you don't pull away. you let him have you, let him teach you, let him mark you as something beyond just a human who cared for a lost stranger in an alley.

his mouth moves lower. his teeth graze your lower stomach, trailing kisses as his hands hold you steady. you gasp, hips tilting instinctively as his tongue brushes against your slit, teasing over your wetness, tasting you. your back arches as he moans softly, lips sucking, tongue pressing, fingers dragging along your thighs. you clutch his hair, tug him closer, moans slipping past your lips.

"so sweet," he growls, voice low and controlled. "you taste incredible, my human."

you're trembling, thighs quivering as he licks, sucks, teases. fingers curl into your hips, pressing you into him as your body reacts, every flick of his tongue sending shivers, every press of his lips drawing gasps from your throat.

he alternates between sucking and teasing, fingers brushing, tongue curling, every motion deliberate. you moan openly, hips rocking, hands gripping his shoulders.

he pulls back just long enough to line himself up, hips pressing against you, hard, teasing. your body writhes, desperate for more. he pushes inside slowly, letting you feel every inch before moving fully.

"there you are," he growls. "so perfect."

your back arches, chest pressed to his, every nerve on fire. his hands clutch your hips, controlling the rhythm. your moans grow louder, head tipped back, nails raking down his back.

he leans down, mouth brushing yours in a heated kiss, groaning over your lips, jaw, neck. you're trembling, completely lost.

"cum for me," he murmurs.

you do, almost immediately as if he was in complete control now. clenching, shivering, crying out into his neck as he presses, thrusts, holds you tight, milking every sound, every quiver. lips on your shoulder, voice harsh, needy, praising.

he's still inside you, thick and impossibly hot, every thrust slow and dragging out the tension until your body shakes. his hands grip your hips, thumb circling your clit.

"you feel exquisite, so warm…don't make me stop," he says, teasing and commanding.

"yes… don't stop…" you whisper.

he chuckles, thrusting deeper. "that's it… my good human. so perfect, trembling for me."

you moan, hips lifting instinctively, trying to ride him, and he presses you flat.

"you belong to me," he growls. "every sound, every shiver… i feel it all."

his hand cups your ass, pulling you flush against him. "don't fight it. scream if you need to… no one else hears it."

"please— keep going…" you gasp.

he smirks, teeth grazing lightly. "i'm far from done."

you arch, legs trembling, body wracked with pleasure. he presses harder, rolling his hips slowly. you cry out, hips jerking, every nerve on fire as he drags you up the edge again and again, whispering filthy praise into your ear.

"look at you, squeezing me… mine… all mine," he hisses. "cum for me… human, all over me."

and when you cum, it's not gentle. thighs clamp around him, body convulsing, chest heaving, voice raw. he doesn't pull away, grinding slow, deep, circling your clit as he whispers, "good girl… not done yet."

your vision flickers but he stays, moving again, dragging you into the next wave. moan after moan, gasp after gasp, breaking apart in multiple staggered climaxes. he hovers, lips brushing your jaw, murmuring, nipping, reminding you how tight and wet you are.

"don't fight it," he hisses. "finish again… i know you love it."

you cry out, arching, shaking, writhing under him, cumming again, muscles clenching, shivering, and he keeps going, hands pressing, lips claiming, voice low and steady.

finally, your body trembles uncontrollably, mind swimming, vision flickering—but he's still there. still inside. still moving. still claiming. whispering your name, "so good… so perfect…"

your body goes limp, shivers fading… and you feel him continuing, deliberate, a low hum vibrating against your skin, keeping you tethered as consciousness slips.

when you wake, your body is warm. heavy. sore in the best way. your chest rises sharply as awareness comes back in pieces, he's still there, still inside. eyes glowing faintly, gaze fixed on you with possessive hunger. not moving fast. not rough. just slow. steady thrusts, like he never stopped. when your gaze finally focuses on him, his mouth curves.

"there you are," he says quietly.

his hips roll once, deeper, just enough to make you gasp.

"i was wondering how long you'd last."

his fingers slide along your jaw, down your throat, over your collarbone—possessive.

"did i exhaust you," he asks softly, "or do you want me to keep going?"

and the way he says it makes it clear—he absolutely will.

The Cleaners definitely think you’re dating. You’re not. Semiu once asked what’s up with you and Tamsy. You only shrugged and hummed. Said you were friends. Tamsy laughed, saying he doesn’t need friends. And you certainly weren’t one. This caused a negative reaction.

You scoffed. Turned around. Walked out with a loud slam of the door. Semiu watched with wide eyes and slowly turned to Tamsy.

“Tamsy, you little bitch. You gon’ lose her if you keep actin’ up like that.”

“I don’t need her.”

“Uh-huh. We’ll see about that…Anyway, Corvus called for you just now.”

That evening, you didn’t come to his room like usual. You didn’t call through your chokers. You didn’t even leave a message. Whether it was you cursing him out or whatever, no nothing. He only looked at himself through the mirror of his vanity, long hair draping down like waterfalls—talked to himself.

“She’s gonna come back. She can’t live without me. I’m not the one that needs her.”

But nope, was he wrong. The next day, instead of going on a mission with him as usual, you went with Team Akuta. He saw how Enjin was all over you. Saw how you laughed at one of his stupid and flimsy jokes. Watched the way that you placed your hand on Enjin’s arm while you told him something. Glared at Enjin’s hand that dared to place itself on your lower back where his hand was supposed to be touching.

His blood was fucking boiling. But then again, he didn’t need you. You needed him. You’d come crawling back to him again soon.

Yeah, no. This shit went on for two whole fucking weeks and he’s losing his damn mind.

Knock, knock, knock !

The sound against the door of your bedroom disturbed your sleep. You scowled and ran your fingers through your disheveled hair. Your shirt was wrinkled and was hanging by your one shoulder. Your hair is a mess. And you probably looked like shit too.  Who the hell is it and why the fuck is this bitch knocking at 2 in the morning ?

That question was immediately answered when you opened the door. Tamsy stood there. His long hair wasn’t in its usual updo. He had bags under his eyes. That never fucking happens unless he’s going through shit. You raised an eyebrow. What the hell does he want ?

“What the fuck is wrong with you ?”

“I’m sorry.”

You blinked. Paused. Your spirit literally awoke. Did Tamsy just apologize ? To you ? At 2 in the morning while you looked like shit and he looked majestic despite the restlessness in his eyes ? Yep.

“I- what ?” You laughed breathily. This is unbelievable. In a really shocking way.

“I’m sorry. Do I have to spell it out for you ?”

“Don’t give me that attitude.”

“You’re acting deaf again. You know I hate being like this.”

“What ? Being a decent person who knows how to apologize ?”

“I thought you needed me.”

“You’re a bitch.”

“I’m your bitch.”

“Damn right.”

You both smiled. You opened your arms and he fit right in. Face buried in your neck with his arms wrapped around you tightly. Your fingers ran through the silken locks of his long hair. He sighed in contentment before beginning to press light kisses against your neck and up to your jaw.

“Let me make it up to you ?”

“Be honest. This is what you’re actually after.”

“You know me so well, darling.”

“Fuck you.”

“You don't have to tell me twice.”

The next morning, you’re paired up with Tamsy again. Semiu watches as you’re practically glued together. Or, his hands are all over you. She’s already tired of this PDA.

“Told ya.” Semiu smirked at him.

You raised an eyebrow. Tamsy only pulled you away to get that mission done and have you all to himself.

God, he’s so fucking smitten he can’t even hide it anymore. And he doesn’t bother hiding it. Especially in front of Enjin and all the other wannabes that ogle at you.

You were sent on a commission. A solo mission to be more exact. Corvus said you could handle it, you agreed. Tamsy obviously thought otherwise. Not because he thinks you’re weak. Hell no. But because he doesn’t want you roaming around Ground all alone with all those dangerous people that could jump at you anytime.

Though you’d definitely knock them all out without needing his help.

“I’m coming with you. Who knows what you’ll encounter out there ?”

“Tamsy, I’m a trained cleaner who can take down most members of our org. What the hell are you even worried about ?”

“I’m not worried about you. I don’t like the idea of other people approaching you with malicious intentions. You need your angel with you, darling.”

“You’re the embodiment of malicious intention, Tamsy. Don’t fuck with me.”

“Is that a compliment ?”

You slammed the door at his face as you left your room. Vital instrument in hand. The others watched as you walked through the hall with Tamsy following you from behind. They’ve never seen him like this. And it’s so hard to imagine him being like this. It’s harder to believe that he’s being like this even though the image is right in front their eyes.

“Woah, is that really Tamsy ?”

“He’s usually calm and collected. Now, he looks like a puppy.”

“The effect of being obsessed."

Once you reached the front desk where Semiu was at, she looked up from the magazine that she was reading and raised an eyebrow at the sight of your exasperated expression and Tamsy tailing you like a freak. Which he is.

“You’re not planning on coming with her, are you, Tamsy ?” Semiu asked and sat properly, crossing her arms over her chest

"I am."

“You can’t. Boss’ orders.”

“Who cares.”

“Tamsy, I swear if you don’t behave-” You groaned.

“Make me.”

You glared at him. He stared back. A sly grin on his face. The air between you turning thick.

“Don’t do that shit in front of me. Go find a room or somethin’.” Semiu rolled her eyes.

So, you did.

“You are not coming with me. That’s final. Don’t make me repeat myself.”

“And why should I listen to you ?”

“Because I said so.”

The corner of his mouth lifted. He stepped closer. Successfully backing you up against the nearest wall. His head lowered as he gazed down at you. A sinister glint beneath his yellow-hued irises.

“I said, make me.”

You glared. He’d been pestering you since last night. Your patience surely would have run out. You wouldn’t have the energy to tell him off anymore and you won’t have a choice but to let him tag along. After all, you love him too much to leave him here just to follow Corvus’ orders.

But your response certainly made him falter and rethink his thoughts on you.

You pulled him by the collar. Soft lips crashed onto his. Tongue slipped into his mouth as his arm automatically snaked around your waist to pull you closer. Your back pressed against the wall as he kissed you back with the same fervor. But he successfully lost it when you bit down his lower lip to tug at it while looking right into his eyes. He swore he almost fucking came.

“You’re staying right here and you’re gonna wait for me like a good boy.”

“...fuck.”

You ended up going on the mission alone. A victory against Tamsy. Meanwhile, he was left standing in his room with his fingers pressed against his bottom lip. Eyes darkened with an intensity that nobody can name. His breathing, low but ragged. His lips slowly formed a smile. Thoughts filled with you. And the realization dawned at him.

He’s totally obsessed with you and he’s never letting you go.

“But the absence of a tsahìk-”

“Mawey- do slow down.” For not the first time since their trek started, Gojo is turning his head behind him. He might have been a firm leader, but he wasn’t unfair. He watches the Herwi hunters that extend from his feet to far beyond hills of ice and frost - some middle-aged and weathered by the snow already, some fresh-faced and cold with the eagerness to prove themselves. Following them were six-legged canines they called txeylan—powerful hinds pulling sleds piled high with hunt. “The younger ones are having trouble keeping up.”

Gaping, the elder looks between his leader and the younger members near the middle of their group. Flanked by older Na’vi. “But- but olo’eyktan-”

He’s looking up at the irritated sky, “I will see no further talking.”

Though there is an easy smile across his face, the elders know not to cross him. Senior in age—only age. 

They bowed their heads and looked away above all because he is their leader, but below that - deep, deeeeeep below what their prides would allow them to ever admit - because they knew he was stronger. The strongest.

The heir born of a blizzard, Satoru of the snow. 

It was said he opened his eyes during the coldest night of that year. Ice-blue. Bitter blue. Like the pools of crystallized water that the Herwi people would dance their celebrations upon - and that night they held the longest celebrations to date. Arms in arms and singing songs. And giving thanks and giving the young his first taste of snow. 

And though the position of olo’eyktan had an aspect of inheritance to it either way, it was undeniable that the world had just borne their future leader.

He’d grown up taller than other Na’vi his age. Stronger. Stormy flurries wherever he stepped, and a blizzard himself. 

There almost seemed to be a gap between him and everyone else.

Gojo had been sixteen when he was officially granted the mantle of ‘The Strongest’ by the clan. It was only about time, and only because of the elders’ reluctance that it’d taken this long.

And now it was impossible to say whether he was more loved or respected as a leader: the more boisterous of the younger Na’vi certainly loved him, the elders couldn’t stand him, the ones of mating age just couldn’t get enough of him. Though it was all for naught.

In all the twenty-eight years that he’d sifted through these snows - in all the ten years since he’d come of age - Gojo hadn’t so much as looked at another with a degree of infatuation.

Not for a lack of propositions- in fact, if you asked his attendants then they’d tell you that Gojo had a surplus of propositions. At least five Na’vi would stroll up the familiar pathway to his underground hut, calling out sing-song wishes to braid his hair, to walk amongst the ice glaciers together, to mend his fur clothes. 

Hopefuls. 

His attendants were ordered to send them all away with a gift from the olo’eyktan and a firm rejection (though, Gojo finds that that certainly didn’t deter them…)

They just didn’t seem to understand why such a suitable young Na’vi seemed to be waiting…watching…for something even he himself didn’t seem to understand. Always turning his blue eyes to the skies, ever since he was a child, always, always-

Gojo stops in his tracks.

One of his arms raises to halt the procession behind him. 

The Na’vi hunters freeze.

The Na’vi hunters let their tails swish.

The txeylan sniff the air.

Gojo’s long pointed ears twitch in every direction before resting in a single direction up ahead - where the belly of the snow seemed to swell with something. Something that the recent snowstorm had swallowed.

“Olo’eyktan…” One of the younger Herwi behind him whispers. “What is it?”

“Mawey. It might be a dead snow beast.” He hisses, though he knew that wasn’t right. It wasn’t uncommon for even the creatures of these terrains to be bested by nature. But something about the figure in the snow was…different from the hounding things they hunted. Much more delicate, much more scrunched in on itself.

Gojo keeps his hand held high in the air and passes on his hunt to the nearby clansmen. Still holding onto his bow and arrows, he edges closer. “Ì’awn- the clan stays here while I investigate.” Leaving no room for a word edgewise.

The wind whips his long hair and kuru as the Na’vi steps closer. And some maddened part of him almost feels that it was as though Eywa, their goddess, herself was trying to get him to stay away.

But an even madder part of him wanted to get closer—needed to get closer.

He was being drawn in.

Making not even a single noise with his padded feet, he’s crouching down before the unmoving figure and using his long skeletal fingers to wipe away those dredges of snow. 

Away from a face—

He gasps.

The rest of the Herwi startles behind him, “What is it- what is it, olo’eyktan?”

“Is it a snow beast? Must we commence the rituals-”

“Cease! Are those fingers it has-”

“Five?”

But Gojo doesn’t answer their queries, instead he’s silently pressing his ear to the swell of the body’s chest and—ba-dump!

Listening to that faint heartbeat.

He’s not sure how this little human was still alive, and he pulls back to look at them- the first he’s ever seen. Gojo has already heard the whispers from other Na’vi clans, of these aliens named mankind whom had settled upon Pandora a few years ago.

He’s heard about humanity’s wits, their machinery, their greed.

He’s heard of the way they’ve hurt his people.

But he’s never seen one up so…close. Were they all this small? How could something so small be so destructive?

Gojo tilts his head down at you and runs one of his cold indexes down the side of your masked face, did they all look so hurt by the cold? He can’t imagine that it didn’t hurt- after all, the only reason that the Herwi had managed to reside in these mountains for hundreds of years was because of its harsh environment. Not human nor animal nor Na’vi wanted to be here—but Gojo always loved this place, as did his people.

He wondered whether it was such passionate love or hate that drew the little human in his arms to climb such peaks. To come this far. 

He can’t help but lean down and scoop the human up into his arms.

“O-olo’eyktan what is the meaning of this-”

“Fnu- shhhh.” Gojo responds in his native language, “She’s resting.”

The olo’eyktan carries the human all the way back the treacherous path to his clan huts.

And every time he looked down, he could see the way that smaller body fell and rose with each faint breath. He could see the flying of human-made coats that did nothing to fight off the cold of Pandora. He could see the pen and notebook stuffed inside it as if they were the most precious treasure of all.

He can see you.

.

.

.

Day #1 in the Herwi village: 

Woke up in what seems to be the healer’s hut, a wide insulated space that is more or less steeped into the underground with a berth of the entrance AS (above snow). Capped dome on top. Walls are composed of wooden planks on the interior flanked by compact ice from the outside, decorated in the thick furs of what appears to be snow beasts. Long book shelves. Kindling lantern of something bioluminescent and emitting heat. Shockingly warm inside. Vents are present but small to prevent an excess of thin air. Separate storage spaces and areas for examination, implications of advanced surgery and medical procedures taking place far beyond what we humans can understand.

Though Herwi healing techniques seem to be similar to that of other Na’vi clans (particularly the Omaticaya) in terms of relation to Eywa and natural resources, it must be noted that Herwi healing makes prominent use of ice for anti-inflammatory and vessel constricting methods.

Sparse presence of herbs and more emphasis on pressure points (for a copy of the Herwi circulatory system diagram see Page 8…), though the olo’eyktan reassures that there are a multitude of flora endemic to the Pandoran heights. 

The olo’eyktan seems particularly eager to give a tour?

With your eyes blinking open…you think you’ve died and gone onto whatever there was afterwards.

It would’ve been just like you to meet your demise during the pursuit of your research- the higher-ups at your laboratory predicted the same thing. The last thing you remember before blacking out was feeling faint - weeks of hiking up this arduous peak and you’d run out of your provisions a few days ago, surviving on only melted ice to fill your belly. At least, until the sudden threat of a snowslide had resulted in you abandoning your tent and bags behind for escape.

From then on it had only been: you, your pen, your notebook with your research, your translator, and your burning passion to find the Herwi.

It was no surprise that you didn’t last long.

But you suppose you just didn’t expect the ‘afterwards’ to be a blue, blue summer sky. 

Oh—how you missed the cloud-frothed ocean of blue down on Earth. It was never quite the same on Pandora, and you’re just beginning to wonder whether heaven was really home-

“Yawne, txen?”

Before your muddled mind realizes that this really wasn’t your sky after all.

What you were looking up into were the eyes of a Na’vi warrior.

He’s leaning his overlarge body above yours, and you’re pressing yourself flatly against a mattress—one that was made of copious amounts of furs and the softest spun wool to make you feel as though you were floating up on the clouds.

But the farther you’re getting, the more he dwarfs you with his curious peering.

Closer.

And the only thing you can do is look up into his handsome blue face- the lightest of blues you’ve ever seen. 

Now, you have to start this off by saying that every single Na’vi you’ve seen was beautiful—every single one of them. 

But you don’t think you’ve ever seen someone like him before: long white hair, blue eyes almost like a Metkayina, and glowing spots scattered like snowflakes across his cheeks. Heavy eyelids. Taller than your average Omaticaya. Perhaps a bit bulkier, as well.

If you tilted your head just past his looming figure then you could take in the tufted fur clothing he wore, slightly more coverage than of Na’vi from the more tropical areas; with patterns of rosettes peaking out wherever his skin was exposed and dotted like a fainter version of a snow leopard’s. From your own planet.

But you were not on your own planet.

Far from it.

You’re realizing with a jolt that he was one of the Herwi clan-

“Are you…” And though you’d dreamed and wished and hoped for this day for so long—right now you find yourself absolutely speechless. “Are you- fuck.”

To which he only beams- “Nga lu rusey- oh, nga lu rusey.” His pearly white teeth are on full display, one little dimple crinkling at the edge of his smile. He just looks so handsome like this that you almost lose your breath- no. It must be the hypothermia that’s getting to you. It must be. And if you didn’t know any better then you’d have said that he almost sounds utterly relieved—“Oe'm lefpom. Txen? Lu nga txen? Tsal pung?”

“I ah…” Mouth dropping open. Shit—your translator!

Before he can say anything more, you’re digging in your coats- or at least attempting to. It doesn’t take long for you to shuffle behind the thick blankets and realize that you weren’t wearing those humanly thin layers you did when climbing up the mountain. Well-fitted for the Earth’s cold, but not for the harsh ever-winters of Pandora.

Instead you were wearing…a thick woolen coat?

Much too large on you- almost comically so. It had sleeves that reached a few feet past your fingertips, draped down to your toes, and enough space that you could hide at least five of you inside it. 

No translator.

No pen. No notebook-

He sees this smaller figure fluttering about worriedly and tilts his head curiously, “‘Upe lu nga fwew?” Before handing you your notebook and pen from a table behind him.

“Pardon? Ah- thank you so much—!” You beam at him, and he beams back. But looking into his blue eyes once more, you feel a sudden sense of helplessness wash over you. “But I’m sorry, I still can’t understand you.”

At this the Na’vi furrows his pale brows - you’re not quite sure whether he knew what you were saying, but he seemed to have picked up on your emotions. Nudging his large face against yours with a purring sound, “Yawne? Oe'd tìng aynga.”

And a part of you somewhat melts- “I said I really can’t- hahah.” You half-heartedly try to push his incessant face away with a laugh, taking particular delight in noting how happily his tail was swishing. Fluffier with more fur than you’ve observed on other types of Na’vi, also covered in pretty rosettes that swayed to and fro.

It’s right now that you wished you had the patience to stay behind and immerse yourself more in the Na’vi language lessons your laboratory had provided. Most scientists didn’t even go out into the field until they were experts - but you were too antsy, too greedy to know. Something seemed to have called you here whether it cost you your life.

Given you’d picked up on some phrases here and there, but it seems that the Herwi had a different accent from the clips played in those listening tests. Slightly softer, slightly more of a whisper.

Like the breath of winter, his words cooled your mask and heated up something entirely different inside of you. “Oe pey ngim krr.”

Before you know it, the Na’vi clasps both your hands in his—and you’re startled by just how large they are, just how cold. You’re analyzing the way his pale fingers hold your own as if it was all that was tender in the world.

Intertwining.

“Ngim krr.” He looks at you with those azure eyes seriously, opening up the palm of your right hand and touching his to yours. Palm against palm. Breath against breath. “Nìt'iluke.” 

You get the feeling that you were missing something very important- “I’m sorry I really wish…I’m so sorry to ask any more of you- I really am. But have you happened to see my translator anywhere?”

“Tìnga’prrnen?” He cocks his head in confusion, trying to mouth the word.

“Erm- yes?” Hoping that he understood you, “My translator—” You emphasize the syllables- “It’s a little device to understand you-”

You’re gesturing between the two of you- and you swear you see the light blue Na’vi pale. “Tìnga’prrnen? Oe?”

“Yes?” You knew that ‘oe’ referred to oneself.

He balks- maybe you were getting through to him? “Nga new ne kanom oe tìnga’prrnen-”

“Skxawng.”

Before he’s suddenly cut off by a hard smack to the back of his head- and you’re looking up just in time to see another Herwi Na’vi enter the hut. The dimorphism between this particular strand of Na’vi wasn’t anything too prominent, you find - both were tall, both were pale, both had long tails and rosettes scattered across their agile bodies.

The only real difference was that the one at your bedside was more rugged, with even more pure-white beads woven into his hair. Though that you could chalk up to their separate duties within the clan.

She walked inside as though she owned the place, throwing her long loose hair behind her shoulder. She doesn’t even flinch as she shuts the other man up—as she brings out a black earpiece from behind her and hands it to you. “I believe this is yours. It was dropped in the rush outside.”

“O-oh!” You’re surprised to find that it was none other than your translating device. Taking it gratefully, “Thank you so so much.”

“Don’t mention it.” 

At your baffled expression - as far as you knew, the Herwi were the last remaining uncontacted clan of Na’vi, with no knowledge of humankind nor their many languages. “I learned your language from my books-” Gesturing around her - you were right to assume that this was her hut, filled to the brim with ointments and books. Mostly of Na’vi origin, but you could spy a few in English and Japanese. “-sent by friends in the Omaticaya. I find your human stories are…quite amusing.”

“I see.” You breathe.

She gestures at herself, “Ieri Shoko of the heart.” Then at the male Na’vi member, “Gojo Satoru of the snow. I apologize for him, he is our olo’eyktan- also the one that found you.”

“So you’re my saviour.” You’re looking towards him- Gojo once more. He catches your eyes and looks away with a pale blue hue dusting his face. “Irayo nga.” Giving your thanks (one of the few phrases you could speak with complete confidence). 

You’re looking towards him- He shudders, “Oe ke ronsem tsonta lu tìnga’prrnen.”

As soon as he’s saying it, Shoko smacks her hand on her forehead- and you wonder what exactly he means. 

So without further ado, you’re fixing the earpiece onto yourself.

“Idiot.” Shoko’s turning back to Gojo, “You know that’s not what she meant?”

Gojo crosses his arms and huffs- “I’m just saying I wouldn’t mind if it’s for her-”

“Not even Eywa could make that happen.”

“Getting preg-”

“Hello?” Testing—and if the way both Na’vi jerk their heads to you in slight surprise is anything to go by, then you’d say that the translator was working rather well. It was less an earpiece that translated and more a device to target that part of your brain that communicated and understood foreign languages.

Allowing you to both understand and speak in the dialect of the Na’vi - an invention by yours truly, of course. You’d (as close as) perfected it just last year for this expedition. “Can you understand me?”

Gojo stares at you with wide blue eyes.

With his pretty lips parted.

With his tail swishing back and forth.

“I see y-”

“We understand you.” Shoko nudges him roughly in the ribs, “I apologize if we’re a bit startled- it’s the first time we’re seeing a human in person.”

“I could’ve guessed that.” You giggle, flickering your eyes over to the starstrack Na’vi. Though you were equally as such. Somehow you speaking in his language just seemed to make him…“But I want to emphasize that I come in peace- I just want to learn as a scientist, not even my laboratory knows exactly where I am. And I intend to keep it that way.”

Shoko crosses her arms and looks gravely at you, “What do you want?”

“To learn. To research you and your people.” You look between them both, “To confirm the existence of the Herwi clan has been a dream of mine for a long time- not for the papers or the accolades, but because I just wanted to know you.”

“And how can we trust you?” Shoko says, getting nudged by Gojo afterwards.

“I won’t reveal anything you don’t want me to.” Determination dripping in your tone, “Not even if they kill me for it.”

They appraise you, and it’s silent for a beat before Shoko looks at Gojo.

And Gojo nods.

Shoko shoots you a barely-there smile, “Well…human, what do you want to know?”

.

.

.

After you woke up, it was after a long talk and almost three or so hours later that you’d gotten up- Shoko and Gojo had both rushed to your side. Waving them off, you’d attempted to shrug off the coat and hand it back to Gojo - long since realizing that it was his - but he’d almost been offended by the gesture.

Refusing. 

He’d kept a hand behind on the small of your back to steady you with every step climbed towards the entrance. And once you were out- you could practically feel the storm freeze around you.

Colder than cold.

The Herwi looked at you with fear.

They stopped in their tracks and didn’t even look to breathe until Gojo had followed right after. And standing beside him like that, you’d been made too aware of the drastic height difference between you two. The average Na’vi was about nine to ten feet tall, though by the look of it the Herwi of the snow were much larger than their oceanic counterparts—slightly thicker, with limbs that were long and covered in sparse fur to protect them from the cold.

The Herwi average was about ten feet, you’re finding.

Though Gojo stood at a proud eleven feet (11’1 as you come to interrogate out of him more precisely later on) and rested his hand gently upon your shoulder. They had faint scars on them that marked him as a warrior, and you could feel the slight callouses send shivers across your coat-swathed body. His tail curled around your thigh.

You don’t think you even came up to his stomach-

“My people…” He announced in booming Na’vi. “-as some of you may know from the hunt today, we have a guest.”

You shift at the stares.

“More importantly, my guest. And we will make her feel welcome like family.”

“Family?” The whispers came.

“But she is one of the sky people…”

“Part of the family is…but if the olo’eyktan says so…”

“I’ve never seen him so casually touchy with someone before-”

“Shhhhhhh!”

“I understand if you are scared, and to those who wish it- you are free to leave and never interact with her while she is here.” Though none of them do move. Fixated. “But to those who aren’t, I urge you to share the beauty of our culture.”

To which you’d gulped before introducing yourself as you had to Shoko and Gojo.

.

.

.

Day #2 in the Herwi village: 

The governing system of the Herwi is quite reminiscent to that of other clans - made up by a singular olo’eyktan or olo'eykte, accompanied by a tsahìk (though Gojo assures proudly that he is not mated as of writing this), and a council of clan elders that act as an advisory board.

Most decisions are made solely by the wisdom of Gojo himself, though large choices require a vote from the council as well as his people. Such requisites are rare, however, as it seems the olo’eyktan’s impact extends to the non-council people in such a way that they trust him with everything. (For more on the lovely reception and the sheer popularity of Gojo Satoru see Page 11…)

Governing seems to be harmonious if a little quietly tense in regards to certain elders that disagree yet are ultimately obeisant to their olo’eyktan.

This scientist in particular caused a little stir in the Herwi leadership once a research visit was proposed by the olo’eyktan to the rest of the elders. Though initial reactions had been reluctant, after a terse discussion, ultimately six moons had been granted to collect all appropriate research (due to be checked by the elders prior to leaving). No more. No less.

Six moons should be more than enough!

Shoko might have let it slip that it was Gojo who used his privilege as olo’eyktan to convince the council…and he wasn’t too happy that they’d granted you merely six moons (five days if you’re counting the first night there) to stay here. He wanted to gawk at this new human more, you supposed.

But you were so very grateful to each and every one of them either way - even those wizened elders who scowled at you suspiciously wherever you passed. Though even glares seemed sweet when you were living your dream, hm? And it best be believed that you were taking advantage of every single second you had with the clan - every single second.

Because this was exactly what those cigar-smoking higher-ups had laughed at you for. 

They thought you were chasing a myth.

The Herwi people had been so gracious as to offer you an empty hut, despite Gojo’s fervent insisting that you take his and he can simply tough it out in the cold outside-

And the next day you were up early- perhaps a little too early for the olo’eyktan who’d apparently tracked your trail and followed you around for an hour. Before he finally managed to stop you in the middle of your field study - helping out a young Herwi mother take care of her crying toddler, whilst learning about Herwi childcare techniques - and raised his bag full of food.

Breakfast.

You’re smacking your hand against your forehead as you’d completely forgotten - not quite out of the ordinary for when you got too immersed in your work. But it was different when you had someone seeking you out to take care of you…

And so after sharing the abundance of breads and berries and soups (far too much for but the two of you) with the Herwi mother and child, the two of you sit outside her hut and admired the view of the village. The soft half-sun that melted across the capped peaks, a buttery layer of light that was not even half as bright as on Earth.

But somehow gentler.

Gojo’s raising one berry to his lips before- “Ah…” His mouth drops when he takes a glance at you- more accurately, at your masked self. And he’s stopping in his movements, “Excuse me for just a second, beloved.”

“Oh? Of course.”

You watch as he’s standing up and sprinting light-fast towards the edge of a great steaming lake in the horizon. His figure’s crouching down and cupping his hands in the sparkling water, bubbling with fury. Gojo brings it up to his face and whispers a mantra that you couldn’t quite determine. Not from where you were sitting.

Before carefully bringing it right up to you- “Drink, beloved.” 

He gently leans down to let his fingertips meet your mask.

And you’d had no option—you consider it for science, though a part of you knew you didn’t have to linger your lips so much on his cold skin- but you lift your mask up and drink it.

Once the water floods your throat, you knew something was different.

Your lungs quiver.

Once.

Twice.

And you’d found yourself able to breathe—

Breathing on Pandora.

“How did you…” As you gasp, Gojo reaches out and removes the mask off of you completely. He’d let the earpiece stay on, of course, but lightly grazed his cold digits against the shell of your ear and made you shiver. “I don’t even know what to say- thank you. I didn’t even know this was possible—no other Na’vi clan let alone a mere human has discovered a way to let us breathe normally on Pandora.”

“For you. Lake Yapay.” Gojo says, large hand still cupping your face. “It steams great billowing heat in the day, and freezes by night. Here in Herwi, we use its water to expand our lungs during snowstorms.”

And you want to write it down- you know you should, but the pen in your fingers won’t move. Or more accurately, your fingers won’t move.

He continues, “This land is alive and works in mysterious ways. It has worked for you, beloved, as I knew it would.”

“Thank you again, olo’eyktan.”

“Satoru.” He interjects.

“Satoru.”

He smiles as if it meant the world.

And so your feast commences.

“You have to remember to eat.” Gojo says to you as he scoffs down a sweet paste made of ice-blue berries, “How will you brave the winter storms otherwise? Of course, I will protect you—and yet still.”

“Well, I sure hope I survive six more nights for my research then, hm?” You joke.

But you hadn’t expected Gojo’s face to darken, for him to shake his head. “It’s not fair.”

“Pardon?”

“Six more nights…” And you hadn’t exactly expected him to be so…invested in your research - you admit that you would benefit more from a longer period of studying the Herwi, but you were ready to take what was given. He looks down at the glaring snow and whispers—more to himself. “It’s not fair. I will correct it.”

“Correct?”

“Oh?” And you look from him to the village straight ahead, “Well, I’d be happy either way, Satoru.”

Just then that little Na’vi you’d been helping to watch over before comes waddling and giggling out of the hut to hold onto you- and you pick her up readily.

Gojo took one look at the two of you and shivered.

Shivered.

.

.

.

Day #3 in the Herwi village: 

Hunts are an imperative part of the Herwi lifestyle—not only is it how the people are nourished, but it’s a social activity, it’s a coming-of-age activity. 

As aforementioned, hunts are commenced and led by none other than the olo’eyktan. A large group of Herwi warriors shall trek across the icelands in one unit, and it was quite interesting to note that most of the younger hunters are positioned in the middle where they are less likely to get injured during such a trip.

It is in the middle of their hike that Gojo will alert when the group is to split up: Snow beast hunters and snow marine stilts. Divide and conquer seems to be the only strategy that somehow tames such an unforgiving environment, and Herwi marine-hunters seem to be picked from the most patient of warriors. They carve out a hole in the middle of frozen bodies of water (never Lake Yapay, this divine body is never harmed) and each positions themself atop a tall icicle beside it to escape prowling beasts and currents. Crouched and ledged atop one, the sheer core strength and balance is divine once they cast their lines and wait.

On the other side of things, we have the Herwi beast-hunters. Using a large variety of weapons, the most popular is noted to be the bow and arrow - used by the olo’eyktan himself. They stalk in the cold white billows of snow with not even a single shiver, they lay in wait for hours, they tire their prey out.

And nevertheless this scientist found today’s hunt rather interesting…

The third and fourth days had passed by in much the same fashion - except for the slight tweak in your routine that included opening your hut door and finding the olo’eyktan standing there every single morning.

Always with food, always with a smile, always with some interesting niveous flower for you to press into your notebook. Then afterwards the two of you would set out to help you interview the Herwi people of all ages and backgrounds, to take samples, to explore the natural fauna, to even join Gojo on one of his Hunts on the third day. 

They admitted that they didn’t focus on hunting as much as they normally did on that trek, too enamored with this strange little human that had showed up one day and had their olo’eyktan glued to her side.

You interviewed hunters and elders (well, the ones that didn’t ignore you completely or were on the verge of cursing you out until they caught their leader’s eye) until your mouth hurt. And Gojo had taken you into the best spot with natural Pandoran fauna, making you jot down notes until your fingers cramped.

Once the sun was beginning to set and the Na’vi were getting ready to head back to their village for the night, you’re taking the opportunity to interview some of the young hunters. Gojo was off in the distance making up for the slightly lowered hunt by ice-spearing more snow beasts. And you were more than happy not to distract him while he took care of his olo’eyktan duties- after all, the other hunters were nice. Never having seen a human before, they’d been more than happy to answer your questions.

Ribbing each other, guffawing as they answered, placing their hands down on you and ruffling your head from above.

Almost as if you were a plaything- and you admit it was in the name of science, you didn’t mind it too much until a particularly boisterous hunter about Gojo’s age had kept swatting at you no matter how many times you politely moved away. Until he’d caught you on the scruff of your coat and tried to lift you up—

You hear the sound of bones breaking before you realize what it is.

Whipping your head behind you in an instant to see that Gojo was behind the other hunter and pulling his hand hard enough that you hear other Na’vi cry out. 

He lets go of you, of course, and you watch with widened eyes as Gojo then bandages his fellow Na’vi’s arm himself. Though you note that he doesn’t apologize.

Gojo didn’t leave your side for a single second after that.

That night after the dinner by the lake, Gojo walks you to your hut and sleeps outside in the bitter cold- no matter how much you tried to get him to take up the bed inside. He’d insisted.

After mating, he’d said.

You wonder whether your translating device was malfunctioning…

(See Page 26 on Herwi possessiveness…).

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Day #4 in the Herwi village: 

Beads.

A well-known part of Na’vi culture, one of the most recognizable, perhaps. The scientific community has written long and extensively on the importance of bead-sharing in the Omaticaya clan, however, this scientist shall be the first to detail the beauty of how this tradition extends to the Herwi clan.

According to the artisans of this village, beads aren’t fashioned through molten stone or seeds or clay—given the availability of such in this environment. Rather, they’re made with snow.

Never-melting snow.

Yes, the design of hona beads from snow is a practice unique to the Herwi clan. Broken off from the hardest icicles growing at a peak of Mt. Hoet said to touch the sky, not only is it a treacherous passage to get to those specialized bits of ice, but the process of making the beads finds itself just as arduous. These icicles are then welded into delicate beads and dipped into the waters of Lake Yapay at night, letting them soak and then carried to freeze at the highest peak once more.

This process is repeated until the beads are as hard as diamonds on Earth- perhaps even harder. Never-melting. Never-breaking. Never-forgetting. Though not too hard so that the Herwi will be unable to carve unique patterns and symbols special to themself. Rinse. Repeat.

Though the clear meaning of such is ambiguous, it is most certainly a way of showing appreciation - as one would have to love someone very much to do this, no?

It was on your fourth day amongst the Herwi clan that Gojo didn’t show up with a beautiful flower or trinket from the terrain- instead, he’s bounding up to you with a string of beads and knotting it against the side of your face.

Pushing it back and taking you in with it.

Without a question.

“Satoru, did you…” You’re holding the line of beads up to the sunlight and watching the little patterns glimmer. They were slightly frosted and flurried like the smallest of snowglobes, “Did you make this for me?” 

And you swear they had the most intricate design of clouds on them, swirling and tumbling.

“Of course.” He smiles proudly. “Us Herwi are taught how to design our very own hona beads ever since we were children, and as Na’vi coming of age we walk up the path to make the first one for ourselves…as adults we make one for our family or…” Mates.

“And this- god, I need to…write about this but I can’t even imagine how long this would’ve taken.” 

“Four days.” Gojo cocks his head and looks down at you- and that brilliantly confident grin of his plasters across his face once more. “For most it takes four years, but for you I did it in four days.”

“Oh, they’re just amazing.” You run a hand down the ice-cold globules, “Thank you, Satoru.”

He holds your hand as he leads you out into the village.

Gojo tells you that night to wear those very beads to the clan dinner - once a week (at the very least) after a particularly successful Hunt, the Herwi people will get together for a massive feast. You’d heard excited whispers about it from the public you surveyed, and it seems that the olo’eyktan had chosen tonight.

Night had begun to fall, and you were dragged playfully by some younger girls straight to the edge of this vast frozen lake. Past snow-capped huts that stuck out of an even more snow-capped ground like eager heads, and ice-jeweled trees and frozen rivers and pathways lit with bioluminescent algae trapped in lanterns of ice.

It was a world in frost.

Where Na’vi had gathered with their families, their friends, their food—all in an array of tables that circled the crystallized body of water like a wedding ring.

Under the snowy night sky they communed. 

“You are wearing my- I mean your hona beads.” Gojo had beamed as he eventually caught up with you and guided you himself. He led you by hand again - even though you weren’t exactly quite sure why…at least it kept you from being toppled over by the other tall Herwi rushing to snag their own seats. “You look beautiful with them, beloved.”

And you weren’t quite sure what to say- though the bubbling pit at your stomach certainly wanted you to tell him something. Instead you divert the topic, “You hunted today as well, yes? Is there anything here that you hunted?”

To which he looks at you with a rather cocky smile, “Beloved, I have hunted more than half of the feast tonight. Trust that you will enjoy it.”

And you might have joked about him being presumptuous- but you really did enjoy the feast.

Under a star-studded sky and glimmering lanterns that twinkled like the freckles upon Gojo’s face, he led you to the very head table that no other Na’vi dared touch. It was rather obvious that this one was meant for the olo’eyktan himself, but what was curious was when your seat had been placed right next to his.

Perks of being a special guest, you suppose?

Shoko was beside you and shot you an amused smile, before preening for another Herwi next to her with a scar that ran across her face and half-braided hair. 

“Utahime.” Gojo had whispers in your ear, “Shoko’s mate.” 

“Ah- I see!” Pen quivering in your hand, you’re jotting down your observations in your notebook under the table. “Perfect. I’m quite curious about the mating rituals of the Herwi, you see. Do you suppose I’d be able to ask them some questions later on in the night?”

“Don’t ask them questions- ask me.” Gojo huffs. Brows furrowing. Lower lip jutting into a pout.

He leans over and wraps his arm around the back of your chair. Squirming, “O-oh…but you’re not mated yet, are you, Satoru?”

“Nope!”

“Right…” But then how could you ask him about mating if he wasn’t—nevermind.

Because just then the group in charge of cooking for the clan had rounded the tables and begun placing their most savored delicacies on top of them. Meats upon vegetables upon berries that you’d seen growing naturally across the mountainside they lived on. It was steaming hot and everything that you could dream of.

Whether you didn’t like meat, whether you didn’t like vegetables- there was always something there for you.

Most of the richest dishes were allocated around the olo’eyktan and your single table, stuffing the surface to the brim until you had to squeeze next to Gojo for space. Of course, he didn’t seem to mind. Perhaps too busy piling his place with the sweetest treacly milks and frozen desserts that he could reach.

After dinner came the dances.

It happened every night after the community dinner when everyone - full and satisfied by then - would start humming and chanting their ancient hymns. Echoing into the sleepy snow and the ever-young night, someone would pull out two snow beast-skin drums by then. Thumping away to the songs of the snow. 

Children ran off and made snow-prints and snow-fights in the mountains of powder. Family members would begin drowsily feeding each other and insisting they eat more. Others traced their own hona beads and promised they’d make ones for the one they love.

More would punch small holes through the frozen lake and bring the water up to their mouths, of which a sudden blow would make the water freeze and scatter out into the air in twinkling snowflakes. Emulating the stars themselves.

Snow-breathers. 

They’d sing, they’d sound, they’d show off and then…the first mated couple would walk onto the middle of the frozen ice.

Then the second.

The third.

The fourth and the fifth and the sixth-

What a way to end the night, love warming the cold air and couples twirling around each other with their tails intertwined. Usually, you’d be content to clap and attempt to sing along—

But then Gojo stands up- and you almost believe he was ready to leave the table altogether…until he’s reaching his hand out to you.

You.

And you look around in slight surprise- almost as if expecting someone to materialize right beside you and take Gojo’s hand instead. But the only thing you’re getting is Shoko’s approving nod from next to you, before she lets herself be dragged by Utahime onto the frozen lake.

And so you’d danced.

Rather an interesting sight considering the height difference, you admit—but it was beautiful. Gojo scoops you up into his arms with one steadied underneath you, the other holds one of your hands in his. 

So much larger. So much more powerful.

And yet so gentle.

He twirls you around to the music and you laugh at the wind stinging your face.

“Satoru, you’re going to drop me—”

“I should rather die than drop you.”

“But- but what of the other Herwi that will be mistaken?” You ask then, already sensing the envious looks that were thrown your way. 

“There goes my dream of being tsahìk, I’m almost sure of it now-”

“But I haven’t been able to try my luck with the olo’eyktan yet-”

“Oh shush, girl! You seriously think any of us had a chance?”

You look into his handsome face, eyes trained on you despite all the whispers and disturbance amongst his people. Only you. “You won’t be able to find a mate this way.”

Something unreadable in his blue eyes, flickering with fire from the tables and something else entirely. “Perhaps I don’t want one.”

“Well that would be entirely your decision.” You place your hands on his broad shoulders, flexing as they move you around with ease. “But it seems in Herwi tradition, the olo’eyktan is wont to take a mate.”

He raises a white brow, “And who should you believe must be my mate then?”

You didn’t quite know how to answer that.

Averting his eyes- and those of the Na’vi staring at you two. “W-well, Herwi has many fine women and men. Reykol is the best singer.”

“I do not want Reykol.”

“Tìtaron is a good hunter.”

He pulls you closer, “Yes, she is a good hunter. But I am better, and I do not care for Tìtaron.” Reaching up one hand to brush away the snowflakes that had begun dusting your face, “I believe I have already been fated to. Even before I was born, I have already chosen.”

You swallow, “Who, Satoru?”

He only smiles.

“Who?”

But he does not answer, you’re twirled around once more and the moonlight catches your dangling beads.

“Is that…”

“Surely our leader isn’t saying what we think he is saying-”

“But look at him, he looks so…happy.”

You turn your head to catch the fact that most of the Herwi were looking at you, whispering behind their hands. In hindsight, you think that perhaps it was not a coincidence that they ogled you - and particularly the hona beads that you’d been gifted. Not a coincidence at all.

You wore his signature because you were his.

And they all knew you were his.

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Day #5 in the Herwi village (the last day): 

Leaving tomorrow, a perceptive scientist may notice that there is only one thing missing from this comprehensive research into the Herwi clan.

The source of Eywa.

As a deity to all Na’vi people, her influence seeps into the songs and prayers of even the highest terrains on Pandora. Into the healing. Into the well wishes. Into the belief system of a people so accepting and harmonious that their tree of Eywa does not need to be visibly present for her will to be carried out.

But as for where she resides here…

Your fifth and final day was less research and more saying your goodbyes to all the friends you’d made in the Herwi clan. You’d be leaving first thing tomorrow, before the sun even rose, according to the sternest of the elders. 

Gojo hadn’t met you outside your hut that morning, and you’d idled away the time packing and repacking your bag of samples and books. Thrice, before you started to believe that he might not come after all.

But that was alright, ultimately believing that he’d show up later on in the day, you visited all the healers, the hunters, the dancers, and the chefs. The mother and toddler you’d grown close to on your first day here, and even a stray elder that had sought you out to bow goodbye. 

All the young Na’vi and the old Na’vi.

All the Na’vi that had come to not fear you and the Na’vi that had found you endearing at first sight.

They’d warmed up to you since you first came here. They gave you gifts, each of them, and your heart ached as you thought of leaving. 

Goodbyes were always painful - but perhaps one most of all. Gojo.

He still hadn’t met you by the end of your route, and you’d circled the village about twice by the time you were done. He was nowhere to be seen.

It was almost as if he’d disappeared into thin air.

It was with a heavy pit in your stomach that you started to head back to your hut—your last dinner with the Herwi people would be in a few hours. Afterwards, Gojo had previously arranged for you to be accompanied by some of the clan’s best warriors on your trek down. 

You just thought that’d include him.

Perhaps you could sleep it off until the final dinner- and you were shutting the door just behind you…

Before sounds a hurried, hasty knock—

You open the door to see the olo’eyktan of the Herwi tribe.

Panting. Covered in snow.

“My apologies, I have spent the day clearing the pathway for us.” Gojo huffs out, leaning against your door frame with one hand. The other reaching out to you—“Come with me, beloved?”

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.

The Herwi source of Eywa was inside an ice cave.

One that would get blocked when the goddess herself did not wish to be seen, one that Gojo had torn through layers of packed ice to burrow a pathway for the both of you. He’d carried you all the way to the gaping mouth of blue ice and ghost snow.

Closing in on you like arms of rime beckoning you to the tree of Eywa. The Tree of Winter.

The cold embrace of a mother.

One you were still not quite sure whether you were allowed to see—but Gojo knew he wanted you to see. He saw you. 

At the end of the cave was an ice column about eighty feet tall and naturally formulated to look like the winding branches of a tree. Dripping to the ground in phantom white snow, each one delicate and graduating from white to blue. There almost seemed to be a glowing aura about it.

Clear mirrors making up the tree’s vines. Honed tips of the icicles rising from Pandora and stabbing down towards it. The top of the tree reached where the cave roof was hollow, beaming a circle of light from the skies that donned Eywa in innocent pink.

You gasped at the white snowsprites that bounced off of the tree and onto your two bodies. 

Where Gojo stand with his back straight, his meaty thighs spread—pearly white teeth biting down to stop himself from fucking moaning at the feeling of your mouth sliding up n’ down his hot cock.

While you were standing.

You didn’t even have to get on your knees.

His eleven foot figure loomed above you, one hand on the back of your head and the other pumpin’ his furious erection. Your maw slips down his puckered tip and he shivers- bucking ever-so-slightly and hitting the back of your throat dead-on—

And yet he wasn’t even fully bottomed out.

He wasn’t even fully bottomed out.

The sudden realization makes you claw at the sides of his blue skin with a whine- direct vibrations that make the puckered tip lodged inside your mouth twitch. He’s sploshing out even more syrupy pre like he couldn’t stop it.

He’s not even trying and it’s already so much, cascading like a waterfall down the front of your chin.

“Now- hah, now.” One of Gojo’s prolonged fingertips reaches out to smear away the slippery sheen across your face- at least, that’s what you think he’s doing.

But instead you’re feeling him curve his rude digits between your lips and push those dewy droplets inside. Shovelling his cock just a little bit deeper, “S’not good to waste it, beloved. Open your mouth and take it all like a good girl, yes?”

“Mmmpf-” A damn miracle that you could get out that much sound in the first place. You’re pulling off to answer, and Gojo jerks his hips a lil’ to chase your damp mouth. “You’re saying you want me to take it all—?”

He shivers, leopard-like tail twitching. “Yes.”

And right before your very eyes, you can see his shaft throb even bigger. 

Harder. 

The prettiest bluish-pink on his tip, one with a divot that leaks out a line of precum. You’re following it with your dazed eyes- before the next thing you’re seeing is a close-up of it.

Gojo has his massive hand plastered to the back of your scalp and is pushin’ your head in, digging his dripping wet tip against the back of your throat. With a groan, the Na’vi pins you to him and hammers out a few sloppy thrusts of his cock.

Again and again.

Slurp after slurp—

“Gonna take it all- hah- my entire cock inside that pretty mouth, yes?” He’s cocking his head to the side and asking down at you sweetly. And he might look all in control, but Gojo’s voice fucking breaks at the very end of his sentence. 

Right in synchronization with the way you were draggin’ your sizzling tastebuds down the veiny sides of his erection. Just the cutest tongue that was eagerly lapping up everything he was giving—“Doesn’t matter if you’re a lil’ human, you’re gonna take the leader’s biiiiig cock, aren’t you?”

Removing yourself from his thickened tip with a wet pwah! “Y-you’re really serious about the-”

“Yes.” 

And he’d apologize for cutting you off later- hell, he’d grovel at your feet if he has to. But right now all Gojo can think of doing is holding onto the back of your head and strollin’ his thumb down the column of your throat. The olo’eyktan can feel that fat cylindrical intrusion where his cock was pumping in and out- and he’s sliding his fingertip dooooooown that bulge. “Aren’t you a scientist, beloved?”

“Y-yes?”

“Then aren’t you curious about just how far a human can take Na’vi cock?”

“Well…” You blubber out, “I guess so-”

“Then consider it for your research.” With each syllable he’s cutting your breath off by thudding his cockhead against the roof of your mouth. “Then just fucking- haaaaah—” And you’re finding that the pre Na’vi cock exuded was actually rather sweet- almost like honeydew flooding up your mouth n’ being slid all round by the intrusion of his shaft. “-take it.”

“Mmmpf—ngh.” Tears were streaming down your face by now, wetting your cheeks and making the Na’vi wipe them away with his thumb.

“Don’t cryyyyy—” He’s airily calling out, almost nothing like the level-headed Na’vi you’d met before. “Big girls don’t cry. Don’t worry- m’gonna give you all of my cock, beloved.”

“S-Satoru-”

But each of your broken yowls were being bullied back in with his bludgeoning wet tip, bruisin’ away its splitted end anywhere and everywhere. 

He swabs into the tiniest nooks and crannies inside your mouth with his sheer size, leaving your knees utterly weak where you were still standing. He’s holding your head up to his cock- “C’mon- feel.”

You peer up at him in confusion.

“Feel for your research.” Fluttering his long pale lashes down at you, a sultry smile spreads across his lips. “How many loooong thick inches you’re being given. How many veins are filling ya up. How many times I hit the back of yer throat like this-”

A shuddering slam right where you were most tender. “Please-”

“M’helping you with your- fuck, research.” He chuckles down lecherously, “By shutting that smart human mouth of yours up.”

“Fuck-”

“Feel it- just feel.”

He thrusts so hard that his heavy ballsack smacks! against your chin, “Feel the way that lil’ mouth of yours can barely even take me. Feel how fat my balls are with cum just for you. Count them? Wanna calculate the girth?” Until it was stinging a permanent girth on your skin, rubbed raw with impact. “Feel the way I- ngh, bruuuise your throat n’ those sensual lips until anyone that talks to you knows I’ve been here.”  He’s babbling on stupidly by now, eyes falling more n’ more half-lidded by the minute. He’s holding on tightly to your restless head and shoves- “Feel the way I fuck my mate—”

Gojo trails off as if shocking himself, and you’re snapping your teary eyes up to him with a muffled- “What?”

But you don’t know whether it’s on cue, you don’t know whether it’s the startle of being caught- but Gojo’s slamming his cocktip way past the back of your throat and cumming.

Oozing out hot dollops of cum that take over your pretty mouth.

Shaft throbbing furiously. Balls twitching like no other. He throws his head back and squelches straight down your throat, and you can feel the thickness of it plug up your voicebox.

So sweet.

So much.

And you’re not sure whether it’s a Na’vi thing or it’s a Gojo thing that he’s cumming so much in one go.

Loooooong miry stripes that trickle down the sides of your mouth- he leans down and pushes them back between your lips with one of his thumbs. Ivory sap constantly leaking down onto your tastebuds, he feels the heady slip n’ slide of his cock against those wads of cum. “Fuh-fuck…”

And then he’s not moving, merely clasping the back of your head and bringing you firmly up against his slender pelvis. 

Your nose rubs against the tufts of white on his abs before you realize that he’d just bottomed-out—just once, like he’d promised. 

And it was enough to send you reeling, feeling the pushback of his swabbin’ tip. Pouring out even more heady liquid every time he was draaaaging down your velvety tongue. 

The tip of your tastebuds flicks his sensitive slit just right and you can feel him pulse deep inside. “Feel me in there?” Gojo’s groaning from above. “Feel how much I ache for you. Feel the volume of my cum- are you counting it?”

“I-I—”

But evidently your half-sob wasn’t enough.

And the Na’vi is reaching down and pinching your nostrils together with his free hand. “Ah ah- focus on your research, beloved.”

And you’re struggling uselessly against his mean action, to which Gojo watches with a predatory gaze at the way you huff n’ sputter. And he has the audacity to snicker-

“I really can throw you around like a ragdoll, huh?”

It’s as if the realization had just struck him and he’s shuddering. 

It almost feels like ages before he’s finally pulling away with a loud plop!

An excess of your cum was leaking out of your maw and threatening to drip onto the floor- “Tch, this is a sacred place, my human.” He’s rasping out—swipin’ up the frothed white cum as if he wasn’t absolutely desecrating you. Pushing those clingy wads between your maw.

He then guides his honed tip to glide across your lips, gluing your lips shut with all his seed.

And Gojo can’t help but admire you- peering up at him with his towering height. All covered in his syrupy slick and speechless, unable to talk even if your voicebox had been left intact.

He smiles, tail swishing happily to and fro. “My human.” Gojo leans all the distance down to kiss you upon your sopping wet lips. “My m- pretty human. My pretty human…”

But you don’t have enough sense at the moment to ponder too long on his little slip-up before he’s bending down close with his hoarse mouth against the shell of your ear.

Making you feel so sensitive.

“-did ya get enough research yet?”

And then he’s good on his other promise: throwing you around like a ragdoll.

Before you know it, Gojo’s thundering down onto his knees upon the frozen floor - taking you right along with him. He grabs his fur coat from a little ways away and makes you rest down on top of it. With ease.

Back flat on the coat. Legs spread high in the air.

Twisted around the back of Gojo’s neck and locked in place-

“Satoru-” You look around the Tree of Winter that only seems to glow even brighter, the snowsprites buzzing. “-are you sure we should be doing this h—oh.”

Gojo doesn’t say anything - he doesn’t have to.

He’s merely unhinging his jaw and letting his loooong pinkish tongue drip out. It was glossy with ravenous saliva, thick at the base, and curved at the tip. The end of it dripped tantalizingly with spittle- almost torturously. 

Achingly needy.

There was an almost feline quality to it that made your thighs clench.

“N-nevermind.”

The only thing you’re managing to get out before Gojo had his tongue stuffed against your wet core and swabbin’ away until you saw white—“M-mmmpf.” His mouth was just so large that he could engulf your pussylips with a single bite, honed canines grazing the outer edge of your cunt while he kisses inwards. “My pretty mate- my tasty mate.”

It’s almost as if he was pussydrunk already.

With just a single slurp of his curvaceous tongue glidin’ up and down your slit, Gojo has his blue eyes rolling to the back of his head and his hips bucking. Wildly. “Why didn’t Eywa tell me that you’d taste so good-”

“Oh my—” Your back arches while his thickened fingertips come between your legs to pinch your puckered pussy into his mouth. Pushing you against him even more - greedy. “Shit, it just feels so-”

Smack!

And without a single warning, Gojo has his roverin’ fingertips slamming down on your pussy. Straight on top of your slit where your clit was hidden, it sends shockwaves of both pain and pleasure up your spine.

You’re gasping and staring down at him-

“Now now, no cursing- be good before Eywa, hm?” That damn hypocrite - and you could see it in that sultry smile of it. Gojo was getting off on the way you’d squirm your cunt restlessly against his face, sighing into the way he starts fucking your pussy once more. “Or else m’not gonna eat this pretty pussy of yours out, ya hear?”

You gape, “That’s not fucking fair-”

Smack!

“What was that, beloved?”

“I said—”

Smack!

Smack!

Smack!

Until Gojo’s leaving your pussy raw and needy, and even then he wasn’t done with you- he has the audacity to purse his plump lips and spit. Spit. Letting the sharp strike of saliva make you shiver—

“What was that?” He asks you in such a breathy tone, such a ruined tone. Gojo spoke like if you told him you needed him right now then he would simply shatter. 

And you can only gulp at the state that he was in - you’ve researched Na’vi during times of high pressure, during battles, during their coming-of-age ceremonies. But never had you met one that simply seemed so…feral. “I-I’ll be good, Satoru.”

He smiles like he’s been wanting to hear those exact words for years.

Fingertips jittering with excitement, he then reaches for your intertwined ankles with his tail. 

Locking them in place, Gojo murmurs. “Good…” Before he’s getting ready to dive straight back into your sweetened cunt once more, “Because you better not run-”

And you don’t get to ask just what might constitute you running from his mouth. His tongue.

You don’t get to ask just what it meant when he looked at you with that dark inkling of something carnal, as if he was about to devour you whole.

You don’t get to ask anything, in fact, and whatever questions were already in your throat burst into a zillion pieces at the feeling of him pushing his tongue inside your hole. Properly.

Not lapping away coquettishly on your outer cunt, not slurpin’ up all your treacly juices.

Gojo had his tastebuds stuffed inside your entrance and was draaaaagging them all across every orifice inside of you. Thrusting his entire length in and out at a rapid pace, you could feel the edge of his chin hitting your base with every movement.

Inside and out.

Inside and out.

But the sheer speed of him wasn’t even the bit makin’ you the most dizzy- see Gojo’s Na’vi tongue was something amazing. Something incredible. 

Just so large and lavish that it was stretching your walls out like never before.

“P-please-” You don’t think you’ve ever felt anything like this- the way that Gojo’s textured tongue would mold against your walls, the way he’d pinpoint even the tiniest orifices with his flexible tip, the way he’d expand and contract his tongue purposefully. Until you saw white. Bucking—“Please it just feels so-”

“Where’d ya think you’re going?”

And the slur in his voice makes you pause- “Wh-what…?”

The last thing you’re managing to get out before Gojo tightens the rude grip of his fingertips on your pussylips. And the other one of his hands holds onto your waist to haul you back down onto his mouth- you hadn’t even realized that you’d been edging away in sensitivity. 

“Didn’t I tell you not to run?” Spankin’ those rugged fingertips of his down on your clit once more. You get the feeling that Gojo’s meanly choosing your clit because he knew that’d make you clench ‘round his tongue even more. “Don’t run. Don’t even move.”

“You’re just so fucking- ngh, big and you expect me not to move?” You wail out in indignity.

“Well, who told you to fuck a Na’vi warrior?” He’s countering, those half-lidded eyes of his twinkling with humor. “Better yet- who told you to fuck the olo’eyktan-”

And you suppose you had no explanation for that.

Especially not even Gojo was pumping his thickened tongue into you so fast that any and all explanations in your throat start to dissolve. Instead being replaced by the most pathetic whines and groans as he keeps fucking your pussy greedily.

As though Gojo was a man parched.

Because your wettened pussy was more refreshing to him than the waters of the lake- and if he could, he’d have his head stuffed between your legs every second of the day. Simply slurpin’ up every dewy droplet that escaped out of you, Gojo catches even those tiniest of wads.

Slipping his looooong tongue inside—you’re driven damn near mad once he slithers his length in and grazes your g-spot.

Hips bucking, eyes snapping open. “H-how did you even manage-”

“Ah ah—” His familiar tut, and soon enough you’re glued back down onto his pretty mouth again. Gojo doesn’t even need to try to ease you pliably back onto his face no matter how much you try to run- but oh, it was just so fun to watch your sultry surprise. The way you only got wetter when he manhandled you. “So this is that cute lil’ g-spot human have, hm? I thought it was just something in Shoko’s anatomy textbooks.”

“You- you read her textbooks…” You ask.

“All day and all night.” Gojo replies with a smirk, his ears twitching as he hears the quickening of your heartbeat. “Only Eywa knows how much I’ve touched myself imagining this.”

“Oh—”

It hits you like a flash of lightning- and so do the sudden swipes of Gojo’s tongue reaching your sweetest spots. Thud-thud-thud-thud he’s ricocheting against your bundle of nerves rapidly, making it echo like your own heartbeat in your ears. Thud-thud-thud-thud—

“Shit-” And suddenly you understand- you thought you understood before? But no, now you understand why Gojo had been telling you not to run away initially.

“Don’t run.” He warns.

Because all you’re feeling are the large stripes he’s licking up your slick walls, and the only thing you can think of doing is bucking. Rutting. Reaching for his lips wildly- though your body moves torturously as if you didn’t know whether you wanted more or to run away—“Shit.” 

“Don’t run.”

But how could you not run from it? How could you not even move when Gojo had your body teased n’ toyed with till absolutely no end?

He was hammerin’ his tongue against your g-spot furiously—and you were sure by now that he has the exact pattern of his tastebuds bruised right on that area. Shapin’ your velvety walls to his tongue, Gojo dives in just so animalistically.

And you can’t help but buck. You can’t help but arch your back. You can’t help but reach your hand out and attempt to grab onto something- anything for dear life. 

Again and again. “Shiiiiit is it even allowed to feel this good-”

But the Na’vi leader merely stops your hands with his own, folding them neatly into his hair. Holding onto his clammy scalp- “As Eywa wills it.” He smiles and your cunt’s just so sensitive by this point that you can feel the exact degree of curvature of his grin. “Which reminds me…”

And for your profanity you’re getting three more direct spanks, “Shit-”

One more.

Before you feel him then twist his fingertips on your throbbing clit and pinch- “Ya reeeeally can’t be a good girl f’me, huh?” Gojo asks you with a smile, though there was a hint of something in his voice that reminded you why exactly he was the olo’eyktan of such a large clan. “Look at you—”

“Sh-shit, that feels so-” But he isn’t listening, and you’re fighting the heels of your feet against his broad back. 

“Look at you.” He’s tightening his tail on your ankles and dragging you back down. He’s spitting down through clenched canines, every single word sending sparks up to your hazy brain. Barely even working by this point, surely. “Swearing. Squirming. Moaning like a slut and trying to escape- as your leader, I should punish you, beloved.”

“No more pussy spanking—” You whine, “Just makes me so sensitive…”

“I’m not talking about pussy spanking, beloved.” To emphasize his point he gives just a light tap on your sensitive nub once more.

It leaves you shaking to wonder just what else he has in store for you- though you don’t have to let your mind grapple in the dark for too long. Because in absolutely no time - just a few more vulgar thrusts of his tongue - you’re feeling the sudden plump intrusion of something slender at your hole.

It certainly couldn’t have been his tongue, because you knew what that ridged texture felt like. 

It certainly couldn’t have been Gojo’s cock, because you’d tasted that and you knew he had a much larger circumference. 

So that left only one option—Gojo had your pussylips spread apart and your entrance gulping up every inch of his fingers. They just looked so stark with their blue color disappearin’ into your hole, and Gojo’s increeeeedible length making you feel so full. 

Two of them were all that were shovelled inside- and yet he was already stretching for your very cervix on his first thrust inside. He scours the spongy end of your pussy then slides back out—in and out, in and out, in and out.

Each time his knobbly joints push against your g-spot and left you crying-

“Feel my fingers inside you?” Gojo rasps ruthlessly, his mouth wrapped around your throbbing clit. Groaning at the way you grow even wetter- Na’vi senses were strong, and he could smell the impending orgasm on you. “Feel the way I reach for your- hah, womb all inside? Feel the way I can fuck a baby in you so easily?”

“Yes-” You answer to them all, “Yes yes yes yes—”

And before you can say anything more, his powerful tail hauls you down. Bashin’ in even deeper with his plush fingertips. “Feel the way I’ve found eeeevery cute spot of yours? Feel the way I know your pussy inside and out?”

“Yes- fuck.” And you don’t even care if you’re ‘punished’ any more for breaking Gojo’s stern rules. Gojo himself was slamming his knuckles red and raw against your cunt, fucking his human’s tight pussy. “Fuck, I’m gonna-”

“Feel the way m’making you mine—?”

“Satoru, m’gonna cum-”

“Note it down in your research.”

And then you’re exploding straight into your high - and you know it’s the best you’ve ever had.

Your eyes fall shut and the only thing you’re seeing behind them is pure black with stars of white, pulsing against your bleary vision in time with the furious throbbing at your cunt. Little zaps of pleasure shoot all the way down to the tips of your toes every time he’s moving his maw across your core. Sharp. Sensitive. He’s wedged between your legs and lappin’ up each pulse.

Sluuuuurp—!

Long, aching drags of his tongue. They’re roverin’ over the most sensitive spot of your clit, meanwhile his fingers were glazed in slick n’ fucking you stupid already.

Gojo thrusts you through your high as if he was angry at you. As if he can’t get enough. As if he’s losing his damn mind and you n’ your pussy are the only reasons why-

It takes you only a minute more for your wave of bliss to taper out, fully riding through it. 

And then only another minute more for you go from fucked straight to overstimulated by a few more of his rovering thrusts. He swabs your g-spot once more and you think you’re bawling- “S-Satoru, I’m already done-”

But he doesn’t respond. He doesn’t even seem to hear you.

In fact, you couldn’t sworn that he was grabbing onto your right thigh with his free hand and keeping himself plastered even more into your cunt-

“Satoru—!” You’re calling out helplessly, “Satoru, I’m already- ngh, done-”

“Mhmmmm?” Muttering something wet underneath his breath, and you have to strain your ears to actually hear him. Breathy. Panting. “Research- fuck! More…”

“I can’t even- oh.” It was almost dangerous just how potent he was with his mouth and fingers, and before long your thighs were starting to shake with sensitivity. Causing you to grab onto his scalp even tighter and-

“O-oh.”

And accidentally tug on the long braid of white hair thrown over his shoulder—his kuru.

Did that manage to…

Your breath hitches, and you’re reaching out to graze your fingers down his kuru once more-

“Fuh—fuuuuck.” Gojo throws his head back in a voice that almost sounded like a whimper, his slick lips quivering. His skin covering in goosebumps. His erection throbbing from where you could spy him. His entire large body shakes with the zaps of hypersensitivity going down his spine, “D-don’t think you know what you’re getting into, beloved…” His murky breath clouds out in front of him. 

“You sure?” You challenge - what a privilege it was to see him break.

The olo’eyktan grits his teeth—-“I’m warning you…”

But when were you ever one to listen to warnings?

Without thinking much of it, you tighten your hand ‘round his kuru and tug—

And then he’s on you in a split-second.

He’s not even moving- he’s grabbing onto your hips and bodily puuuulling you right back down till your cunt lips kiss his cock. He’s pushing your legs up until your kneecaps hit your tits. He’s hunching his entire body forwards and-

“Sh-shit.” Your eyes widen, “Satoru, did you just-”

“Yes.”

Just you teasing his kuru is enough to make Gojo spuuuurt out in creamy wads of cum once more, coating the outer part of your pussy in a thick layer. It feels hot and wet on top of you, streaming down to drench the coating. Before he’s swervin’ his swollen tip inside and fucking you-

No hesitation. No preparation.

You’re getting what you deserved, and that was to be fucked like an absolute anima by the Na’vi.

“You don’t know what you’ve done.” He’s spitting- straight into your hotly opened mouth. Those sharp canines of Gojo’s nipping at your bottom lip, “You don’t know what you’ve done- you don’t know what you’ve done-”

“Shit, shiiiit—Satoru.” Moaning out his name like a broken record player. He’s bullying out harsh semi-thrusts against your cunt that leave you scrambling for breath- just shovin’ his puckered tip inside, just tasting the inside of your pussy with his cockhead, just trying to fucking fit.

“Sayin’ my name like that and you don’t even fucking—” Before Gojo feels your soppy walls clench tightly ‘round him, and his lips part a little before racing down and spitting on your cunt. “Fucking fit.”

“You say that like it’s so easy-” You sob out. 

He was pistoning his hips into you ferally.

The only thing he was doing was stretchin’ out your cute hole a few times, just so big that you’re being push-push-pushed up the fur coat you were splayed out on-

A hand at your throat.

“Don’t. Fucking. Run.”

And you don’t have the chance to tell him that you weren’t actually running and in fact it was just his roverin’ hips forcing you upwards- but before you could do that, Gojo’s already rendering you speechless with his cock.

He’s grabbing an even tighter restraint of your neck.

He’s manhandling your entire body down like he’s crazed.

He’s juuuuuust barely managing to squeeze in a sultry inch of two of his massive length- the mere sensation of that in itself enough to send your mind bursting into a heap of stars. It was almost numbing on your lower half, to have this much of him fitted inside you.

Stuffed inside you.

Throbbing inside you.

And it seems that the only one more affected by that fact wasn’t you - it was Gojo Satoru himself. Head falling into the crook of your neck. Tail flinching as it now wraps around your right thigh. Mouth parting with an agonized groan.

“F—fuck.” He’s echoing out hollowly into your ear, “Fuck, you’re so fucking…tight.”

Gojo spits out the word as if it was the very reason the olo’eyktan was shattering right about now. And almost on cue, those sopping wet walls of yours clench ‘round his tip and makes the Na’vi yelp—

“Fuck, don’t do that.” He’s shuddering through his sloppy strokes, his split-ended tip filling you up with dewy precum. “Fuck, don’t do that unless you want to be taught what happens when you pull on the kuru of a Herwi like me, little scientist.”

“What happens?” You ask innocently.

“S’why I’m telling you to fucking—oh.”

Just a few more pulsating clenches of your cunt, and Gojo shivers as though he’s being held hostage by your wet walls.

He bears his canines and snarls at you in the way you’d seen Na’vi do when they want to signal, to intimidate, to mate. 

But you stare up at the olo’eyktan of the Herwi clan with determination.

And he’s giving you one final probe-

“I’m going to get you fucking pregnant.”

He breathes out against the shell of your ear, almost like the last whisper of his sanity before Gojo stares into your wide heart-eyes—and he’s reeling his hips back to plunge.

Uncaring how unready your poor entrance was.

Uncaring how your tiny human body shakes underneath his larger one.

His fat cock swipes between your glittery folds and puuuuushes against the instinctual restraint of your hole, all the way until you start to tremble- and he knows he can’t push any more. He knows he can’t break you.

He’s fighting back every sudden primal urge in him that just wants to fuck you all the way inside- and furiously pumps his solid inches back and forth. Back and forth. Back and forth. Keeping a hand always on the top of your stomach for when he’s feeling his hard globular tip push upwards.

Gojo was just so big that he could feel himself sinking in from the outside-

“And that’s not a promise, beloved.” Gojo’s pale brows furrow as his cockhead starts swabbin’ even deeper after each thrust, “That’s not a promise- that’s not even a challenge-”

“Th-then—?” He’s pushing doooown on your overstuffed core and you find it hard to breathe, both pressures from between your legs and from Gojo pushing on your cylindrical tummy bulge was just…

The olo’eyktan grins when he watches his cute lil’ human struggle to take his entire cock, the bluish hue of it spreading apart your thighs. He reels his slender hips back in quite the long drag—before ultimately hammering- “It’s an oath. Before Eywa.”

A divine oath.

Added to the fact that Gojo was slamming his ruddied tip into you with each syllable- and you could never forget about the sheer size difference. The way that it helped him bend over you and fold you in half as though nothing but a lawnchair—your ass was cleanly dangling off the floor with how much Gojo was bending you.

A mating press. The meanest one you’ve ever seen.

You’re hit with the sudden inclination that you weren’t about to walk out of here any time soon.

And Gojo seems to be doing well on that fact- he hadn’t completely bottomed-out yet, but he was still drilling into you with such fervour. Streaking his cum from before across every inch of you, a layer of white that you feel from the inside.

Feverish cocktip swabbin’ all the way at the back of your cervix, full balls smacking your cunt.

Every time he was hurtling his hips forwards, it almost felt as if the ground beneath you was trembling. 

It almost felt as if he was hitting each of your geysering spots without even needing to try. Just so big that the veiny sides of his cock rubbed n’ dubbed up against those orifices unfairly. 

It almost felt as if you were losing it-

“So I think you’ll have a loooot of fuckin’ research, beloved.” Gojo snickers, his tail flicking you playfully. And at this point you’re not even sure what the conversation was about, just knowing that it was the background music to the lecherous thwacking of his hips on yours. 

So hard that you could feel the wads of his high from before glazing your insides. Dripping all the way near the rim of your cunt before being pumped back inside.

He pushes down on top of that bulge once more and watches you whine, “I almost don’t want to, mmm, ask what it’ll be about…”

“Ohhh, y’know—” Gojo trails off airily, something shaky in the back of his tone that sends shivers up your spine. It makes you almost content to know that you’ve gotten him so pussydrunken- but then again you weren’t too far behind. He tilts his head to the side and looks at you through partially closed eyes, smiling. “-human-Na’vi babies.”

And it’s with that that Gojo finally - finally - drills his cock all the way to the hilt.

Bottoming out.

His breath catches at the realization.

Blue eyes widening. Mouth watering.

It feels so different to have your hot innards surrounding him entirely- and fuck, Gojo wasn’t even sure whether a human like you would be able to take all of him. But it seems that you really were made for him, yes? Every curve and edge of you. Every bit of your cunt that he gives an experimental buck into, before pumping inside like a madman-

Pounding you into the smooth ground of the celestial temple.

It feels like you’re being thrust into heaven itself because of the way he was so big, big, big—all the way from the purple-ish tip that was zig-zagging your walls, to the oversized tummy bulge he was fucking into you, to the way he had you folded. Manhandled.

Gojo’s only lasting a few strokes before he’s crushing you to him so hard that it almost hurts- “Right here—right here.” The hand atop your stomach pushes down where his ruby-red tip was kissin’ and kissing at your womb. “You’re gonna have a lot ta research about fucking- ngh, getting bred by the fucking olo’eyktan. A lot to research about carrying my next heir, yeah?”

“Yes…” Arching your back into him.

“And then here—” That very hand now drifts down to the in-betweens of your pussylips and rubs his thumb over your clit. He’s drawing little circles and hearts on top of your sensitive nub that makes you wrack with pleasure, “Yer gonna have to research giving birth to such a biiiig baby, beloved.”

You shiver at the thought, mostly excitement.

And he purrs as he rubs his cheek against the sweaty crown of your head, “But s’okaaaaay- I’ll help you through every step of it, beloved. My mate.” The Na’vi’s staring down at you lovingly, fucking you filthily. “M’gonna breed you all full, okay? You might just have to research more about Na’vi phenotypes- heh.”

You can only nod. “Please…”

And before you can dwell too long on that last particular word—mate—he’s continuing. “And then you don’t have to worry ‘bout a thing- I can take care of eeeeverything. I’ll wash our kid. I’ll dress our kid. I’ll feed our kid. I’ll do everything and anything just please-”

“Y-yes?” Your voice cracks.

And he winks down at you almost mischievously, “Let’s do some research together on when I’ll be able to breed you all full of my cum next, hm?”

And with only a few more vicious thrusts, you’re feeling your second wave of pleasure tonight take over. You knew it’d been bubbling inside your veins for some time now- and right now it almost felt as if that euphoria was overflowing.

Overspilling.

Just like the gushing wads of slick that drivel over the front slit of your cunt and leave you so wet that you feel like a waterpark. Just rhythmic bursts of your high that leave your body loose and limp, shaking a bit every time that Gojo’s cockhead plummets inwards.

Head muddled.

Eyes rolling to the very back of your head.

This might just be the best orgasm of your entire life, and your wave of pleasure is looooong and drawn-out with how many times Gojo thrusts his cock in to fuck you through it. “Shit, Toru—” 

Again and again and again.

Each time hitting the target of your g-spot dead-on and watching as you gush around him even more. 

You were at Gojo’s complete mercy…almost.

Shaking. Your hands find themselves in his hair once more- or more precisely grazing the long length of his kuru. “Satoru.” You’re breathing out as he shivers carnally, “Satoru, I want it- ngh, inside.”

His eyes widen, “Demanding something of the olo’eyktan, are you?”

“Inside, Toru.” Desperate now.

To emphasize, you’re lightly tugging on his kuru and watching as it makes the Na’vi above you shudder. His cock pouring out heaps of precum that only act as a warning for something…more. “F-fuck, better keep this all in until tomorrow-”

At the very least.

You’re honestly not sure if you can keep it all in even now—because then Gojo’s throwing his head back and cumming long and hard. Harder than he ever thinks he has before- his seed dribbles out of him like a gooey waterfall, taking place inside every nook and cranny you have.

Heavy balls clenching almost aggressively as they empty out inside you.

He’s swervin’ each ounce of it inside by dragging his globular tip, that reddened cockhead making you swear you taste Gojo all the way at your throat. 

Flooding.

Your toes curl, it almost feels as though he’s fucking you into a third and fourth high altogether-

“Until tomorrow-” Gojo barks out through his smoky tone, “Until always-” After reaching his high so many times in one night, his sparks of euphoria just rip through him. And you can feel the sheer intensity of it by the way his slippery slick thwacks! against the back of your pussy, hot and heavy. It seems to inflate you from the inside, “Until we have our…fuck.”

And it’s not like Gojo to let up a sentence. Especially one that wavered with emotion.

“Until I have…” He starts again, blue eyes twinkling. “…you.”

Right now he was cupping the side of your face with his left hand- accidentally…or perhaps not…dslodging the translating device from your ear.

And then the Na’vi olo’eyktan leans with his forehead pressing down on top of yours.

Dragging his hand down the side of your head, where his beads for you twinkled in the glow of Eywa’s tree. Breathing out the words—“Oel ngati kameie, muntxa si.”

He looks at you with a slightly sad smile as if he was almost bitterly glad you didn’t understand. Though little did he know…“Oel ngati kameie, Satoru.”

And the look on his face was worth all the time you’d spent poring over Na’vi language books with Shoko these past few days. At least you understood this.

You grin, “I did a bit of research myself.”

He holds you tight, he holds you as if he wanted you two to become one.

More so.

Eventually—after about four or so more rounds, and once you were thoroughly shattered and kept on begging for it, Gojo had swiped his long kuru into his hand and raised it up to you. You yourself didn’t have one, but if there was anything you learned from being with the Herwi people—it’s that love comes in all forms and differences.

You press your lips to his flower-like nerves at the very end of his braid. Immediately, a rush of something between you two and you understand what he meant about being mates.

You feel what Gojo sees.

You feel what Gojo smells.

You feel what Gojo hears.

You feel what Gojo tastes.

You feel what Gojo feels.

You feel complete.

.

.

.

Day #6 in the Herwi village (day after the mating):

The ancient of the Herwi clan were one of the only believers in fated mates, of one who had been destined to walk beside you upon this good planet through Eywa’s will. It was said that life does not flower until one meets one’s fate, not even the skies shall migrate, not even the ice shall melt. 

Two souls bound to meet.

And until then one can only look up, up, up…

This scientist was found in quite the curious position as mate to the olo’eyktan on the morning after.

Re-entering the village, hand-in-hand, it was inevitable that the Herwi people would stare. Not only was it quite past the deadline of six moons given, but each bore resemblance of a mating session that could’ve been spotted a smile away.

Bite marks. Bruises. Slight falter in walking.

Not to mention that it seems word had spread about the…inoccupancy of the Tree of Winter just the night prior. (Additionally for more on Herwi stamina read Page 69…)

Circling back, the stares were rather unabashed. Some gasping. Some ribbing. Some tuts by elders of the clan who then again turned around with a smile.

It was obvious that they had been praying for the olo’eyktan’s happiness for a long, long time.

It must be noted that congratulations were doled out heavily at the communal dinner that night. Food. Dances. Parades.

It must be noted even further that preparations for coronation at the Herwi tsahìk shall be taking place in a week’s time. Who would have thought, a human being a tsahìk? Who would have thought that humans had fated mates as well?

For this scientist’s final note, preparations are already being planned meticulously for the arrival of a new heir to the Gojo name.

And that leaves the scientific community with one last thing, now that fluency in the Na’vi language is on the path to be attained: the glossary.

Tsahìk - Head shaman, high priest, interpreter..

Olo’eyktan - Male clan leader.

Mawey - Calm.

Txeylan - Best friend.

Ì’awn - Stay.

Fnu - Be quiet.

Txen - Awake.

Nga lu rusey- oh, nga lu rusey. - You’re alive- oh, you’re alive.

Oe'm lefpom. Txen? Lu nga txen? Tsal pung? - I’m happy. Awake? You’re awake? Are you injured?

‘Upe lu nga fwew? - What are you looking for?

Yawne? Oe'd tìng aynga. - Beloved? I’d give you anything.

Oe pey ngim krr. - I’ve been waiting a long time.

Tìnga’prrnen - Pregnant.

Tìnga’prrnen? Oe? - Pregnant? Me?

Nga new ne kanom oe tìnga’prrnen. - You want to get me pregnant?

Fì'u - This.

Irayo nga - Thank you.

Oe ke ronsem tsonta lu tìnga’prrnen. - I wouldn’t mind being pregnant.

Lake Yapay - Lake Steam.

Hona beads - Endearing.beads.

Mt. Hoet - Vast.

Kuru - Neural queue.

Oel ngati kameie, muntxa si. - I see you, my mate.

Oel ngati kameie, Satoru. - I see you, Satoru.

A/N. It must be acknowledged that Herwi culture was influenced by some aspects of Inuit culture, as well as some aspects of my own Sinhalese culture! Both such beautiful cultures that I was honored to research more in-depth on. Also this Na'vi vocabulary bank was used, and for longer Na’vi sentences this translator was used and might not be fully accurate ahhh-

One of his hands jerks upwards- right to the pounding space above his heart. He knows he must look a bit of a sight right now - a grown man pawing at his chest - and part of him wonders whether this was all the all-nighters taking a toll on him. About time.

But another part of him wonders whether he should consult a cardiologist.

Also about time.

Because it’s been like this ever since he hired you - the vetting process for finding a nanny had been a long and tedious one. And Nanami had rejected (he’s sure) at least fifty different candidates, had been blocked by five different agencies, before he finally landed on you. Either they’d been too strict, or too lenient, or too new, or simply not cut out to handle the benevolent whirlwind that was his adopted son.

The poor man had been on the verge of giving up.

In fact, he was two paragraphs into an email to HR whilst stress-eating a homemade Danish pastry and wondering whether buying his boss flowers would be overkill- when it happened. God, could this day get any worse? First his manager gives him a ton of work just before he clocked off, certainly not in his list of responsibilities, then he’d burned those damn Danish pastries, then one of the nannies he’d interviewed had nearly passed out at the sheer energy Yuji had.

He’d been working more and more these days. And Nanami needed just a few more months - a few more nights putting in overtime before he could-

It was then that the doorbell had rang.

Ba-dump! 

He opened the door tentatively, hoping that it wasn’t yet another ambush by a salesperson - each with their bright plastic garbage, and their even brighter smiles. But what he’d been met with instead wasn’t one of those visitors he dreaded…not in the very least. It was you—

And your explanation that you were here because of Shoko.

“Erm- she told me that you were looking for a nanny?” You flashed your conversation with Nanami’s clinical friend as proof. He flickered his gaze over to the screen but his eyes remained unreading—he remembers turning them back over to you.

Blinking at the vision of you.

And you’d slightly jolted at the intensity in them.

Digging through your pin-covered bag, “I also have my CV in here…somewhere.” He watched as you only grew more and more frustrated as that CV evaded you- “It really should be somewhere- give me one second-”

“That’s alri-”

But instead of your CV, your bag had poured out notes and pens in return. So much of it that Nanami marvelled at just how much fit inside that humble satchel. They dropped to the floor and you dived to pick them up, wincing. “I’m so- sorry-”

“Let me.” Crouching down in front of you, Nanami’s much-larger hands had had no trouble scooping all those papers up. In an instant he had them aligned neatly and handed to you. Prim. Proper.

By the tie still ‘round his neck, you guessed he’d just come home from work - and little did you know he’d also just finished four failed interviews for the position of nanny - yet he didn’t have a single blond hair out of line. They were slicked-back and handsome in a way you’d seen only in old movie stars. You thought you saw a few strands of silver.

Lines at the edges of his eyes. That tired strength about him.

It was hard to not ogle him.

Your fingertips brushed his rougher ones as you took the papers from him. “Thank you.”

“It’s my pleasure.” The older man peered down at you—so intense that you could almost feel yourself sinking into the mediocre polyester carpet lining the apartment hallway. Neither of you made a move to get up. “I want to ask you about your availability.”

You’d jumped slightly. “You…you actually want to hire me after that- I mean!”

“Should I not?” And what was this? Nanami Kento had to stifle a chuckle at that? How curious…it must’ve been the work day getting to him at that point- yes. He was feeling a little delirious.

“I mean- please do…”

He’d looked away with a slight smile once you reached into the depths of your bag once more. This time, you didn’t make it erupt in scribbled notes- instead you were pulling out a printed table that looked to be a time table. “Sorry I just- printing makes it easier for me to remember…sometimes.” You explained, “I don’t have any lectures on Wednesday and Friday- and the ones I have on the rest of the weekdays are rather flexible so—”

A college student!

Nanami’s jaw had dropped then.

He knew you looked young but-

A college student?!

“Wait a minute…” One of his hands twitched, almost as if to beckon that time table to himself and make sure.

But then you nodded, “I first met Shoko-san during a medical conference she gave at the university, and she told me you worked late on weekdays. I should be free in the evenings then, but will you be working late on the weekends as well? Because I do have this one professor that really-”

Nanami didn’t know how on Earth the topic of him would’ve even cropped up in your conversations- but he needed to end this.

Now.

Listen. It wasn’t that you seemed like a bad kid- you seemed great, even! But Nanami himself was well into his thirties with absolutely zero idea on balancing Yuji and his work life. So he really didn’t want to burden someone over a decade younger than him with-

“Papa?”

The sweetest, sleepiest voice echoed from inside.

He doesn’t even have to turn his head to know that Itadori was swaying, all decked-out in his Spiderman pajamas, at the end of the hallway. Likely having gotten out for water or because of the ruckus caused outside. He blinked his sluggish eyes open and ogled the two of you.

Nanami doesn’t know why- but he shoots up to a stand. Almost as if he was caught doing something he wasn’t supposed to.

You followed.

Which one of you three was the responsible parent here, by the way?

His parched mouth opened to—what? There was nothing to explain. 

It was true that Nanami hadn’t had the time to even stop and think about dating or relationships in the time since he’d adopted Yuji. Not even if he wanted to. And, admittedly, he did have dreams of getting married one day - he watched all those sappy TV shows, alright? He knew how it felt.

He wanted to walk beside someone to that shrine. He wanted to have a few more kids, to give Yuji a bigger family than this. He wanted to quit his dead-end job and move out with his family to a bigger house in the countryside. 

But none of that was as important as his son right now.

However, he knew that Yuji saw all those happy couples during pick-up at the elementary school- and his boy was sweet. The sweetest, actually. Nanami knew that Yuji wouldn’t say a single thing about him being the only exhausted father to arrive all alone. Day after day.

The two of them in their lonesome.

His sweet boy would beam the biggest smile nevertheless. 

But kids were smarter than adults gave them credit for. Doesn’t he feel that loneliness, too? 

Perhaps that was why Yuji ran up to you in an instant.

Right past his haggard father and only towards you - all previous sleepiness now gone - he reached up towards the pretty stranger with the pretty pin-covered bag.

Stubby finger pointing up at a particularly red one—“Do you like Spwiderman, too?”

“Of course.” Leaning down, you smiled warmly at the boy. His hair was a rose-colored mess that stuck up at all odd angles. “And my spidey senses are telling me that a certain someone does, too?”

He gasped, “That’s me!”

Before Nanami knows it, you were held hostage and dragged inside by a particularly overactive pink-haired boy. Shown all around the apartment as part of your tour to be shown-off Yuji’s prized Spiderman-themed bedroom. 

And unbeknownst to him - against that lock-and-key and jaded guard - you’d walked into Nanami Kento’s cozy Tokyo apartment (and the strange cavity in his chest that softened whenever you were around).

He sighed.

A college student!

Still, Nanami can’t deny that it’s been a delight having you around.

Despite your packed schedule and your note-filled bag, you were always there to greet him when he came home. Without fail. Either tapping away at some assignment due before midnight, or humming to yourself as you wiped down the kitchen counters—last minute fluffy pancake emergency, he thinks of those nights.

Even though it’d been about eight months since your initial meeting, it’s almost fearsome how easily he’d gotten used to the routine of it all.

Something that should be so mundane - he flips each moment through his mind over and over again until it felt like they made up the grooves of his brain itself. The gyri and the sulci. Or so he’d heard you muttering to yourself as you studied one night. 

He’s studied, too. He’s memorized how you’d open the door for him, with a smile across your face and a finger to your lips- telling the older man to be quiet as he shook off his shoes. He’s memorized how you’d never fail to tell him about the leftovers in the fridge as you reached for your satchel. He’s memorized how you’d hesitate to meet his gaze- but smile the brightest once you do, and how you’d linger at the doorstep telling him about Yuji’s day.

Nanami has memorized how it made some dust-covered part of his heart stir. Blinking away the exhaustion of the day. 

Nanami Kento has never felt more invigorated than he is during those sparse few minutes that he caught up with you at the end of the night. Voices low, like neither of you wanted to interrupt a sleeping thing—Yuji, yes. But something else, too.

He gets the feeling that it’d feel like this even if you weren’t around as a job. If perhaps the two of you had met- the same age, at the same university.

Maybe in-between the sluggish hours of study sessions where you help him with some particularly hard question. Maybe in the library where he helps you reach some dusty ol’ book from the topmost shelf.

Times like this, he allows himself to dream.

You’d make the best wife.

You were the best nanny he could’ve ever chosen.

But one always has to wake up to one’s alarm. He sets his alarms himself.

“Come in.” Nanami tells you as he shrugs off his coat at the entrance. He watches as you stop in your tracks at the doorway, fiddling with your familiar pin-draped bag. “I’m just about to fire up some brownies for tomorrow.”

You pause.

“I-if it’s not too late and you don’t have any classes early tomorrow or-”

“I’d skip all my classes for some of your brownies.”

He lets out a breath of relief as you start walking back from the doorway. “Please don’t.”

It takes a little less than half an hour for the brownies to bake until they are crisp on the top and perfectly gooey in the middle. Layers of chocolate that are only sweetened by the conversation that you brought into Nanami Kento’s humble kitchen. 

He listens as you talk about your day, about that professor that’d been out to get you, about that exam you were sure you’d fail (he knows you won’t in the end). Only adding brief hums of affirmation and nods as the older man sweeps through his counters, broad back turned to you, muscles flexing against his office shirt as he whipped up a hot fudge as well as a strawberry sauce for you to add to your brownies.

“—and you’d never guess what Yuji told me today.” Tonight you seem a little more breathless than usual. Stuttering out your thank-yous as he brings out the tray from the oven and cuts out the first piece for you.

“Blow on it. It’s hot.” Nanami leans over the other side of the kitchen island. He watches as your pretty lips fall into a soft circle, “What were you saying, my dear?”

“Well-” You dart your gaze around the rest of the empty apartment. “You know how it’s Valentine’s Day tomorrow, Nanami-san?”

Nanami runs a hand through his silver-streaked hair. Smoothing it down. He knows how his son can be, and he has to bite back the grin that threatens to spread across his face. “Mhm?”

“Yuji here seems to think that- well…” Bringing a hand up to your lips, fingertips slightly shaking. The brownie was just amazing. “He seems to think that Valentine’s Day is a bit like Christmas, you see. And so the entire day he wouldn’t stop making a list for Cupid.”

Now that piques his interest particularly- Nanami was never a man to skimp out whenever his loved one wanted something. “Oh, is that so? And what does he ask from this ah- Cupid?”

“That is- I don’t even know if this is appropriate for me to say but…” Looking around one last time. “But it seems Yuji is under the impression that we are together.”

“Oh.”

“Together together.”

“Oh.” He can’t help but inch just a little closer- a strange weight in his stomach. Not entirely unpleasant. “I see.”

You’re mustering up a little more courage, “And it seems that what Yuji wants the most this Valentine’s is…for us to get married. Spiderman-themed wedding, he says.” Watching as Nanami’s eyes slightly widen. “B-but of course, I told him that that might not exactly be in erm- Cupid’s range of power! He kept insisting however-”

He looks at you silently as you rub your temples.

“Because then he said a little brother or sister would be fine, too…” Was it time for the conversation about the birds and the bees already? Instead of storks, Yuji relies on Cupid?!

Nanami follows suit, running a hand through the silver streaks in his hair. “Is that so?” He sighs. “I shall have a little talk with him about asking…immoderate requests of Cupid.”

“He’s a sweet boy. Just a little confused.” You smile sheepishly. “Though I can’t really blame him- my friends think we’re together, too.”

Just an inch closer. “I see.”

And Nanami feels your breathing go heavy- enveloped in the hint of his cologne, the sweetness of the brownies, the musk of something that was entirely him. “I-it’s silly, isn’t it…”

He stares at you intently, reading your every reaction. “Quite.” Pupils flickering down your face. Just another inch closer—you wonder how much more space was left, and what you wanted to do with it. “I’m far too old for you, my dear.”

Your lips part-

The clock strikes eleven.

Both of you startle as if shocked with electricity- “I-I really should-”

“Yes, I understand-”

“The brownies were amazing-”

“Please, take this.” He pushes a bag topped with that delicacy and more of whatever topping you liked into your hands.

“Thank you so much.” You rush out breathlessly, other hand snatching your bag from the counter. “Night, Nanami-san—!”

“Goodnight, my dear.”

“And thank you for the brownies!”

The door shuts—with a lingering creak and ebb of your smile behind it. And soon enough Nanami finds himself lumbering in the direction of Yuji’s bedroom.

It’s not long before he stands before the parade of red and blue and masked superheroes: personnel stationed all to take care of the boy with a tuft of pink hair. His precious treasure. Nestled in the middle of his car-shaped bed. 

A small bedside light traces a glow across his chubby cheeks.

As he does every night, Nanami walks up to the little boy and crouches down beside the bed. Forearms rested upon the soft mattress, face rested upon his forearms- it was always around this time that Yuji would stir and look up at his father.

“Papa…” He sleepily mumbles. Rubbing his sleep-swollen eyes, “Gone?”

“Mhm.” Nanami nods. “Left just now, sunshine.”

“Awww, man—” Yuji seems to deflate- but that only pushes him deeper into the puffy pillows. Making him yawn so wide that it makes the older man chuckle. “I really like her, papa.”

His father pauses before he answers. “I like her, too, Yuji.”

“No, but- I really like her. You know, she’s my best friend along with Kugisaki and Fushiguro and you-”

Nanami starts tickling the boy on his sides until he bursts into peels of laughter. “Really, huh?”

Through giggles, he nods. Before stretching his arms above his head and falling back onto the comfy bed- perhaps he was still dreaming. “Why can’t we keep her, papa?”

“We can’t just keep people, Yuji.” Nanami has to hide his own smile. He knows he should mention the thing about Cupid right now, but he just can’t bring himself to do it. Maybe tomorrow…

“Yes, but…”

“I know, I know.” Nanami pushes his face deeper into his strong forearms. Sometimes, he still felt much like a kid himself. “I get it.”

.

.

.

The next morning, Yuji still wasn’t giving up.

“Papa, it’s Valentine’s Day!”

Papa was about to burst a blood vessel.

He’d chattered on and on about Valentine’s Day as Nanami shuffled him out of bed, he’d announced what chocolates were the best according to his very distinguished five-year-old palate as Nanami helped him brush his teeth—he’d even turned his nose up at the heart-shaped scones that Nanami had made for breakfast.

“Papa, you’re gonna hafta make better hearts than this if you want to marry-”

“Yuji, sunshine, we’re going to be late.” 

Nanami Kento was barely a match for his son. And it’s with something akin to relief - like the exhausted sigh of a stranded man, finally coming across the silhouette of a rescue boat in the bleak horizon - that he manages to hurry the boy into finishing his breakfast. Tuggin’ on his Spiderman backpack, Nanami held Yuji’s hand as they exited the apartment.

Today wasn’t even a school day.

It wasn’t even a school day! And yet the teacher wanted all students in for a short assembly and some chocolate party in class. Nanami would be damned if he didn’t let his son enjoy these small pleasures. 

The elementary school that Yuji attended was only a short distance away from the apartment- usually they’d just make the trip by foot. During those ten minutes it’d become routine for the little boy to jabber away about whatever came to his mind.

How unfortunate for Nanami Kento today that, today, all Yuji could think about was you—

Not because Nanami wasn’t doing much the same- but because he didn’t like thinking of himself as doing much the same. Even though he knew. Query: if both father and son couldn’t get you off their minds, then which one of the two was going to use it?

The older man shakes his head just a little as Yuji suggests a Spiderman wedding cake again—he disagrees with both the cake and…the wedding. Right?

But the boy catches the movement and pouts-

“Why don’t you want to tell her, papa?”

They’re stopping at a red light. Nanami didn’t want to think about how those miniscule bulbs had been programmed to flicker in the shape of a heart today, instead of the usual pedestrian walking. What an apt metaphor for his life, no? Nanami Kento wanted to find something wrong in the traffic light - in the visibility, the practicality, the color - but he couldn’t. 

In fact, it was rather pretty. 

The crossing threatened to bubble over with salarymen and salarywomen and groups of families each hoping to be the first, the fastest, to jump the road. He tugs both himself and Yuji more towards the back where they were well out of the way of whizzing cars. Is it just him or were there more wedding cars than usual today?

“Tell her what? To marry me?” He absent-mindedly answers, “What did I say about no forced marriages, Yuji?”

“No.” He lightly stomps his feet. Making the blond man look down- “I mean why don’t you tell her that you like her, papa?”

And Nanami can’t help but look around like a caught teenager. “You- you can’t just say those things, sunshine! What if she’s heading to class and nearby…”

“But you told me you did last night?” Yuji answers.

Which, fair. And it leaves Nanami slightly at a loss for words. “I…”

“But why can’t you tell her?” The child nods sagely to himself, “S’like when I broke Fushiguro’s red crayon- and I told him. Don’t you always tell me not to lie, papa?”

“That’s…true.” His father hesitates. “But that’s different from-”

“But anyway- that’s why I asked Cupid.” Yuji hums. Content. “You’re a scwaredy-cat, papa, but I asked Cupid for you. Like Santa. And Santa always gives me what I ask for.”

One day, Nanami will consider telling him that Santa had to work a month overtime to get him that car bed—happily however. But that day’s not today. “Oh?”

“Yeah.” He looks up at his father with wide, innocent eyes. “And I also asked Cupid for a bwother- maybe this year I should ask Santa, too.”

“Oh.”

“Do you think Cupid will make my wishes come true, papa?”

“I’m…afraid I can’t be sure, sunshine.”

The light turns green.

And Nanami’s the first to step out onto the road.

From here, even the crosswalk seemed to twist and turn into the shapes of hearts.

Along the rest of the way to his elementary school, Yuji tugs on Nanami’s coat and asks him for his phone—“Alright, but no games before school, Yuji.”

“Not playing games!”

And he didn’t think much of it.

Not until Nanami was on the subway heading to work, about to shoot a phone call to one of the contractors he’d be working with today- and he finds Shoko’s name in his call log.

Outgoing call → Shoko [8:01AM]

Lasted three minutes.

How strange. Nanami doesn’t remember calling his friend at any point today - it must’ve been Yuji during his walk to school. 

A mistake?

How strange, indeed…

But to be quite honest, Nanami doesn’t get the time to ponder upon this happening too deeply. The very second he’d considered clicking on that name himself and asking Shoko- the train had slid to a halt at his station.

Then came the chaos of the office: it seems that one of the interns had forgotten to fax a file yesterday. And Nanami had five angry clients on the phone before 9:00AM, one presentation to lead before 10:00AM, a few more angry clients just after the meeting, and a few more contracts to type up and edit before 12:00AM. Those utterly gaudy pink decorations hung about the room didn’t do anything to help with his oncoming headache.

Everyone in the office knew not to wish him today.

By the time that the overworked man was free for lunch, it was close to 2:00PM. His joints pop as he stretches his arms above his head, flickering a look at the clock above.

It was almost time for Yuji to be let out. Nanami knew you’d be humming to yourself as you walked to his school - and if his son was there, he’d join in, too.

At risk of sounding like a creep, he admits that he’s often listened to the low drift of your voice as you walked out of his apartment. It would start up once he shut that door. And he often stood there - on the other end - until it disappeared. Along with the sound of your footsteps.

His house always seemed smaller then.

Shaking his head free of such thoughts, Nanami stands and walks out of his department, wondering what he’ll have for lunch today. This usually wasn’t a problem with him, but this morning he’d been rather a bit…frazzled. So to say.

All those questions and ‘requests’ that Yuji had left him with just barely enough rationality to scrounge up something for the boy. As for himself, he was meandering through the busy streets of Tokyo - tarmac carpets flying by at a pace faster than he ever seemed to be able to. How was it possible for something inanimate to soar, to race, to live more than he did? Was it always built this way or was he one of the unlucky few?

He wonders which category you’d fall into.

That cheap ramen shop down the street wasn’t too bad - their broth was so good that Nanami was almost able to ignore the sappy love songs crooned from their battered radio. They had a special deal going: 80% off for all couples on Valentine’s Day! All ribbons and glitter. All special pink desserts and lovers holding hands. All love…love and a happy elderly couple behind the counter - the owners, it seems.

It was quaint- cute. The type of place he thinks you might like.

As he was walking back to the office, it seemed as though the city was fit to brim with similar sentiments. 

Flower shops bursting with bouquets like carnivorous sunsets, bleeding hearts and ruby-red roses. Candy shops with something sweet for every color of the rainbow—and more covert advertisements for more…adult indulgences. Sex shops that Nanami had to speed-walk past because of how full and flush they were. Ripe with Valentine’s Day.

Nanami Kento might try to ignore what today is, but the world sure as hell wouldn’t let him forget.

Once he finally runs back to his cubicle- he ducks his head and focuses his eyes solely on the computer screen. He hopes no one comments on the numerous glitzy bags beside him.

.

.

.

“What the hell are you doing in my apartment?”

“Y’know- most people would say—‘Wow, it’s so nice to see you. Now I should totally stop brushing off your invites for drinks. Thank you for being such a kind and respectful and understanding friend, Ieri Shoko.’” The woman in question stretches languorously on top of the couch, her test tube-patterned socks dangling from the other side. “And you’re welcome, by the way!”

Nanami raises one hand in front of him- almost as if to pause the scene entirely. He closes his eyes—when he opens them, he hopes that this had all been a bad dream and he’ll wake up to his glaring computer screen.

He opens them.

Nope- still real.

“Let me rephrase- what the hell have you done to my apartment?”

Shoko gets off the couch and gestures at the apartment like a magician showing off a trick. “Ta-da!” At all the yellow candles that cast miniature sunrises where they wept, at the music that crept sensually from some mysterious corner of the room, at the humble dining table that now looked like it came out of a Times’ 10 Best Spots To Take Your Lover for Valentine’s Day. 

Nanami’s stern lips part as he takes in the silver-covered dishes on top, on top of some white cloth—was that his goddamn blanket?!

“Oh c’mon-” Shoko rolls her eyes. “Don’t act so surprised, I see the bouquet in your hands. You obviously planned something of the sort.”

He forgot about that damn thing. Nearly dropping those flowers in his haste to hide it behind his broad back, though there was really no use - he simply couldn’t stand Shoko’s laughing eyes any longer. “Th-this was for Yuji.”

“I see the smaller bouquet in the bag.” She points out. Almost empathetically, Shoko sighs. “You really aren’t slick, Kento.”

“This isn’t- this is just—” But the longer she smirks at him, the less he seems to have an answer. Soon enough, he’s bringing out that massive bouquet from behind him and letting his friend fawn over the thing.

“Wow, she’s really going to love this-”

“It’s called being nice, by the way!” Nanami answers, belatedly.

The look Shoko gives him is enough to make him click his mouth shut.

“I hope you know that I bought one to give you tomorrow…I’m throwing it out now.” Because no matter how much Nanami denied it, today was about love. Parental. Platonic. Even the love that he could never have. As Shoko rummages through the bag with an excited squeak, he drawls on. “Where even is she, by the way? What have you done to her?”

“Hm? Oh, Yuji called me this morning. Thank you for these, by the way.” Shoko stands with a beautiful yellow rose and purple zinnia bouquet in her arms. She sniffs at the sweet fragrance- “Yuji called me asking whether he should leave out cookies for Cupid just like he does with Santa. It seems he wanted Cupid to bring us a wedding, and guess what? I wanted Cupid to bring us a wedding.” Her face breaks out into a smug smile - the one he’s only seen when she used to cheat through biochemistry exams without anyone ever knowing. “So we called up your darling nanny and let her know that her schedule’s changed for today- then Yuji and I did a little sprucing up in here.”

“Sprucing up…”

She turns around to admire her work, “Honestly, Kento, if I knew that you didn’t have a romantic bone in your body then I’d have dissected you-‘

“Papa!”

Spared from hearing whatever gory plans that Shoko had for him by the excited yelp of his son—Nanami hears his footsteps before he sees him. He feels the impact before he sees him.

Yuji’s running down the hallway and launching himself at his father at full speed- “Papa, you’re home!”

“That I am, sunshine.” Nanami smiles down at the boy. “How was your day? I have something for you.”

“For me?” Tufts of pink curls bobbing as he cocks his head, following his father’s movements as Nanami crouches down and reaches into one of the bags. Before breaking out into the most brilliant smile at the sight of the flowers. “Woah- they’re so pretty—! Thank you.”

Crushing the bouquet of pink carnations and hydrangea to his chest, he wraps his arms around Nanami’s shoulders and hugs him.

“Happy Valentine’s Day, papa. I’ve got a gift for you, too-” Breaking away, Yuji’s throwing an arm out towards the room at large. “Auntie Shoko said this was how you bring Cupid! And we also tried to make those heart-shaped cupcakes you make, but it tasted like tar so…”

“That’s perfectly alright, Yuji.” He swipes at a smear of icing still on the boy’s face. “We can learn together on my next day off, right?”

“Right!” Yuji jumps in excitement. “And after your wedding today-‘

“Yuji…”

“And right on time.” Shoko’s voice permeates the room- right alongside the sharp fwip! of the window shutters closing. She turns away from the glass and pushes off from her station. “C’mon Yuji, now the plan is a-go! Go! Go!”

“Aye-aye!” With a chubby hand raised in salute—Yuji wastes no time giving his father a final hug. “Bye bye, papa.”

“Wha-” Nanami looks at the harried duo in confusion. “What are you two-”

“And don’t mess this up, Kento.” Shoko gives him a stern wave. 

Before she clasps Yuji’s hand and helps the boy match her longer stride- the two of them speed-walk in the direction of the door.

“Yeah- don’t mess this up, papa!”

“Uh, where are you taking my son?” Nanami stalks after them. Not letting the front door close behind them, he watches the two figures - bouquets and all - race down the hallway. How strange that they didn’t take the usual route - instead opting for the one that would let them leave through the back entrance. “Hello? Shoko-”

“Don’t mess this up!”

He has half the mind to chase after them - it’s not that he doesn’t trust Shoko with his son, but really, what on Earth could they be getting up to?! Especially so late past Yuji’s bedtime. At the very least, maybe he could run up to them and let Shoko know of his son’s Spiderman ritual before eating and the tendency he has to bite fingers when-

“Nanami-san?”

Your voice.

Was he dreaming?

And yet—Nanami snaps his head towards the source of the noise so fast that it almost causes whiplash. He breathes your name out in a whisper.

So this is what Shoko meant about-

“Am I hallucinating or is that Shoko-san and Yuji running down the fire escape?” You point at something beyond his line of vision, though Nanami doesn’t need to look to know that it is, in fact, Shoko and Yuji running down the fire escape.

“I think I’m hallucinating, to be quite honest.” He mutters. Because surely there was no conceivable world in which he would see you like this - standing outside his door on Valentine’s Day, looking all gorgeous as you always did - and dare to bring out the bouquet that he had bought for you. Also was that…was that a bit of make-up you’d dabbed on? More so than usual?

His eyes linger on the glitter beside your eyes.

The thought that it might’ve been because it’s today - that it might’ve been because you’d been as nervous about seeing him today as he was about seeing you - makes him jolt. He’d been smoothing his hair down the entire subway ride home thinking of you.

Thirty-something years and he’s acting like a teenager in puppy love.

Certainly no conceivable world…

And yet…he does. He reaches behind him to bring out that prideful bouquet: 520 flower-heads that blushed themselves silly over not being even half as beautiful as you.

“For you.” He croaks out. Awkwardly pushing up his glasses. 

“Oh.” Your jaw drops, and the bouquet weighs heavy in your hands. In nothing but a whisper- “It’s beautiful, Nanami-san.”

Red, red roses.

.

.

.

Nanami explained the situation before he invited you in…somewhat.

Certainly nothing about how badly he’d been teased because of this little scheme or the ah- confession of feelings. Heavens, no! Nanami himself wasn’t entirely sure whether he’d go along with their plan…

As far as you knew, Shoko and Yuji thought it’d be a funny little prank to ‘invite Cupid’ into his apartment this Valentine’s Day. Leaving the two of you alone in an apartment draped in candles and roses like the most deviant of mistresses. 

And Nanami knew you knew. You knew that Nanami knew.

The implications were there for all to see.

It was there in the way his face burned red, and Nanami couldn’t meet your eyes- “I’m aware of how it looks. And it seems that my son still holds the idea that erm…either way, ahem, I completely understand if you would much rather go home. Please do know that this will not affect your job in any way whatsoever- in fact, I will cover your fee double tonight-”

“Nanami-san.” You’d interrupted him. Cocking your head with a slight smile, “May I come in?”

From there he’d been the perfect gentleman - not that he wasn’t usually. Even in the months since you’d worked for him, you’d come to find that Nanami was the type of man that opened doors for you, that pushed your chair for you, that covered your taxi fare home, that escorted you as far as he could by foot either way.

But now…oh, right now he was putting any Prince Charming to shame.

He had his hand hoverin’ right above your waist- leading you inside to the romantic dinner table. Here, he’d pushed your chair for you—and before you could even thank him, Nanami had his hands helping you out of your coat. 

He insisted on plating for you.

You couldn’t help but gawk at the way his biceps pushed against his work button-up, flexing slightly as Nanami stood beside the table and neatly cut your bread - one he’d baked just this morning, according to him. Shoko had clearly rummaged through his kitchen well…

Conversation was somewhat breathless at first- the both of you waiting for the other to go first. The both of you anticipating every single word.

Wondering what every single word meant.

But after the first two courses - Shoko certainly hadn’t burned these - the both of you were talking freely. Moving on from the more polite topics, like your day, his day, that were really a front for something more - speaking with Nanami was always so easy, he was the best listener you’ve had in a while—to dessert: strawberry shortcake cupcakes and a confession that slips from your lips. 

“Y’know- this is the first Valentine’s Day I’m spending like this.” You giggle, wiping off the cream that sticks to your lips. Nanami watches with half-lidded eyes as you devour the delicacy he’d baked this morning.

He swirls his half-empty wine glass. Certainly not enough to get the man tipsy - Nanami was quite the heavy drinker when he wanted to be - but enough to make him ask. “Oh? Tell me more, my dear.”

The candlelight catches on the rim of his glasses, encasing his eyes in an intense glow. You think he looks even more handsome like this- “Sorry. It’s probably going to sound stupid to someone more experienced…”

“There is nothing you’d say that would be stupid.” He pushes his glasses further up his sharp nose. Fingers crossing before him, he leans in. “Continue, my dear.”

“It’s just- I haven’t had many serious relationships, is what.” You admit. And he looks at you so intently- “With life and university, it’s hard to find the time—if I was looking anyways, that is.” You sputter, before he can ask anything about whether the nanny job was cutting into your time. “The selection in my department isn’t great at all.”

“So…” Nanami runs the tip of his finger ‘round that glass cup. The thin rim. The gaping mouth. “-no lil’ boyfriend, then?”

“No boyfriend.” You echo. And perhaps being drunk on the proximity is what makes you blurt out- “But if I did have one, I think I’d like someone older—”

He quirks a brow in interest, “Older?”

You nod. Crossing your arms in slight embarrassment, “Boys my age will ask you out and then go halfsies just because you don’t want to go home with them.”

“Mhmm.” Nanami’s lip curls in distaste.

“I just want someone to like me for me- y’know? Just to sit across from me like this and really talk to me for once.”

“Has no boy ever wined and dined you like this?” He asks.

“No.” You admit, somewhat sheepishly.

“Has no boy ever bought you flowers?”

“No.” You cast a look at the 520 roses - now housed in a large vase that Nanami had pulled out from one of his cabinets.

“No…” You breathe.

He inches forwards, forwards, forwards—and wipes at a remnant of sweet, sweet cream on your lips. That roughened edge of Nanami’s thumb grazes the edge of your mouth. “Has no boy ever been sweet to you like this?” He catches the look in your eyes. And his own lower. “Has no boy ever treated you like a man would, my dear?”

The older man doesn’t hesitate in reaching his thumb back up to his mouth- and lickin’ off the cream. “Has no boy ever eaten you out like this?”

“No-”

Your lips upon his are even sweeter than the cupcakes he’s baked- and he’s lavishin’ his tongue over your mouth gently. Opening you up so wide—

And even that isn’t enough.

Nanami’s thumb finds permanent purchase at the end of your chin, letting his own sinful tongue slip inside. In and out. In and out. In and out.

Almost as if he was fucking you with it-

You’re not sure how long Nanami’s kissing you like this. 

Maybe minutes. Maybe hours.

You’ve lost track of time- and the only thing you know is that your head feels dizzy. Your knees were growing weak in your seat. A slick line of spittle glides down the side of your mouth- and Nanami reaches a thumb up to smeeear it.

“My dear…” He murmurs, his deep baritone taking on a husky tone. Hot breath fans across your face, heating you up from the inside out.

You’re raising your face to meet his molten gaze- and it almost shocked you just how handsome Nanami Kento is. Noble features chiselled in the soft candlelight. His mouth slightly kiss-swollen. Blond hair unravelling from his usual neat style n’ cascading across his forehead. 

He reaches closer to you and siiinks his teeth into your lower lip, “Have you ever been kissed like that- here before?”

You squirm. Shaking your head-

But he tugs on your pretty maw. “Tell me in words, honey.”

Gulping as one of his rugged hands snakes down your middle. A carnal jolt echoes through your body once Nanami presses the edge of his palm between your skirt- your legs. “I…” You think of all the disappointing dates you’ve been on before, of all the disappointing hands in places almost forgettable. “Not like that, Nanami-san.”

“Now now—when we fuck, call me Kento.” He mutters, finally making his way ‘round the table. Before you know it, he’s looming over you- and two of his strong hands rest underneath your legs. “Upsy daisy.” 

He’s lifting you uuuuuup, up, up to splay out across the dinner table.

Lifting you like you weighed nothing.

Pushing aside first and foremost those plates and flowers- you’re being rolled with your back against the tabletop, and Nanami’s honed hips pinning you down. A dimly-lit halo of light behind his golden hair. He wastes no time before throwing both legs of yours on top of his shoulders- “M’gonna teach you how a real man eats pussy.”

You nod-

“First lesson. Big girls use their words.” 

And your jaw drops—

“K-Kento—”

You’re not sure whether the primal noise escapes you because of his words, his tone, or because of the utterly desperate way that Nanami Kento falls to his knees. Thud!

Loud enough that it should hurt- but you don’t think it even registers in Nanami’s frenzied brain right now. 

Not when he was pushing up that damn sinful skirt of yours- extra tight tonight. Nanami wasn’t a fool - he knew what you were doing. Not when he was starin’ deeply at your pussy, all wet through your panties and throbbing so hard he could practically see it.

Count it.

One-two-three. 

Not when he was worshipping you as close as a man possibly could—“Not quite the answer I was looking for.” Then the next thing you’re hearing is a sudden thwack! The next thing you’re feeling are the five pointed tips of Nanami’s thick fingers, smacking down on top of your pussy. “But I’ll let it slide since s’your first time being eaten out all properly, mhm?”

“Mhm.” You nod.

“What was that?” Those mean fingertips of his raise again.

“Yes, Kento.” You’re hurrying to answer. And just as a little reward, Nanami smears his digits atop your swollen folds. 

“That’s more like it.” The glaze of your sweetened slick lets out the loudest squelch, and you squirm as he’s tuggin’ aside your panties with a single index. “Are you ready, my dear?”

“Yes-”

“Are you excited, my dear?”

“Yes-”

“Good girl.”

Let the feast begin, he’s thinking. And Nanami Kento doesn’t wait. Nanami Kento doesn’t tease n’ toy. Nanami Kento doesn’t even swivel his fingertips around your wet hole more than a few times to check how soaked you are before he’s taking what he wants—he doesn’t have the damn time for anything else. 

He’d been starving for far too long.

And the closer n’ closer he gets to your pussy, the more his mouth waters. 

Nanami’s left drooling at the mere sight of your wet fuckin’ hole—you swear you could hear his stomach start to growl. Fuck.

He gulps.

He takes a single sniff. 

With a sudden lurch - like he couldn’t hold it back any longer - he leans up and shoves his face nose-deep between your legs.

His tongue swiping your hole, jaw hittin’ the end of your slit.

He’s curving that wet, wet muscle against your walls. Just so soft that it feels as if you’re melting around him- “Fuck.” It escapes him- harsh and cracking. A primal groan at the back of his throat - one he doesn’t seem to even realize himself. “Fuck.”

You tremble at the tone.

Because there was something dark in it. Something almost…predatory.

This was nothing like the calm, composed Nanami Kento that you were used to - absolutely nothing. This was…you didn’t even have words for it.

So fiercely needy that it shoots electricity up your spine- Nanami’s tongue was ravenous. He was holding onto both sides of your legs and- and correction…he wasn’t merely holding onto them. Nanami Kento was using all his strength to push them as faaaar apart as they would go before suffocating himself on your sopping wet cunt.

Such strong hands. Furious tongue.

No matter how much you’re bucking your hips- he just keeps fucking his muscle between your wet pussylips like the last thing on his mind was breathing. 

Swooping his head even deeper and munching for more. More. More, more, more. 

Nanami crushes his mouth against your pussylips - so deep that you start to wonder whether his oral area would start to bruise—

And it’s only because of that broken call of his name that Nanami flinches. He freezes. He puffs out a murky breath. As if only now registering where he was, what he was doing, and just what his name was at the moment-

He’s breaking free from your pussy with an echoing slurp!

“K-Kento…” You’re looking on in pure worry at the dazed man - his eyes were still glazed, and there was something almost…feral about his demeanour still. Though he seemed to be much calmer than before, “Kento, are you okay to contin-”

“I am.” His voice comes out strong. Firm. Like he’s never been more sure of anything in his entire life. 

Nanami lets out a few stilted breaths- running a hand through his now-unruly hair. The glisten of a silver streak in it. “I am. I just…it’s been a long time…forever, actually, since I’ve tasted anything so delicious.” Wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, “I hope you can forgive this old man for getting a little carried away, my dear.”

Was he really that ruined from but a single taste of your cunt?

He stares down so long and deeeep at your quivering pussy. That cute hole peeking out from your panties—“She’s just so…sweet.”

And though he was speaking to you, Nanami looks down lovingly between your legs. 

Now that he didn’t have his lips all plastered to your folds- he was rubbin’ his right thumb vertically down your slit.

Pressing down on the cute button of your clit-

“Awww did I scare you, honey? I sure hope I didn’t.” Honey, because you were just too sweet sizzlin’ on his tastebuds. Guiding one of your hands to grip his scalp, “Forgive me. When it gets like that, don’t be afraid to pull me- to use me, alright?”

“Kento, you don’t have to-”

“Consider it my second lesson.”

You squirm, “B-but don’t they say to…respect your elders, Kento?”

And you’re just too cute—he can’t help but flatten his palm down and spank your pussylips once more. It makes so many beads of slippery slick spray out from your cunt n’ glue against that chin of his. “You certainly can.” He hums, thoughtful. “But just remember- I won’t be respecting this pussy, honey.”

“I see.” You gape.

And while speaking to you - while speaking to you - Nanami lavishes out lil’ kitten licks between your folds. Lick. Lick. “I bet this pretty pussy’s never been eaten out like that before, huh?” He continues. Merely peeking up at you through blond lashes to confirm- and you can only nod—

Yet another spank sputtering down on your wet crevice.

“Words.” Nanami reminds. 

Hiccuping, “Yes, please. All those boys usually just like- graze my clit and that’s all.”

He nods. He continues, voice nothing but deep murmurs that sets your entire body aflame - and it’s as though the more syllables he’s uttering, the harder n’ harder he rubs on your clit. “Awww poor girl. I just can’t help but think of how long this pussy has been wasted on- haaah, boys who didn’t know how to handle her.”

“Too- too long.”

Lovingly—almost drunkenly, he’s pressing a direct peck against your hole. The tip of his tongue just lightly slipping out and teasing your entrance- Nanami’s free hand grips onto your thigh as if holding himself back. “Mmmm, that’s what I thought.” He murmurs. “And how long has she waited to be eaten out by a man who isn’t afraid to get a little…sloppy?” 

“Too long-”

At this, he chuckles. “And as for my last question-” Not even smooching anymore- he’s just smeeeeaering his puffy lips along your slit. More rapid. More hungry. “Actually- take this as my third lesson.”

You’re scrambling up onto your elbows. “Yes?”

“Can you settle down like a good girl?”

Whatever that means…you aren’t given the time to figure out. Because before you know it, Nanami purses his lips and plants a wad of spittle that hits your cunt with a wet splat!

Only making you even wetter for him to gape his jaw open- “Fuck.” For him to swirl his ridged tip around and around your snug entrance until it left your mind all dizzy, it makes your cunt streeeeetch incredibly once he digs the tip of his tongue inside. Thoroughly.

It’s almost as if he was splitting you apart on the thickness of his tongue. 

Expanding and contracting. Expanding and contracting. 

The stretch is so incredible that it leaves your mind searing

“Settle down. Settle doooown-” He’s humming in a low tone. Whenever Nanami feels you squirmin’ or clenching just a tad too hard, he’s making note of that particular spot and bashing it all in again. Thick muscle reaching in and out for your deepest depths until your tight hole can’t take it anymore- until you’re screaming for mercy. 

“Oh fuh-fuuuuck—” You’re arching straight off the table, the fabric clinging onto your skin briefly. Only for a few split-seconds before one of Nanami’s hands fastens onto your hips, pushing you right back down where you came from.

“What did I say?” He wasn’t even using much of his strength- you were just so easy for him to move ‘round. Especially when he has his mouth attached to you in a way that was so ravenous—

Ruined. 

“Settle. Fucking. Down, girl.” 

Pinning you to the flat surface and letting his gaped maw run wiiiiiiild. It’s making you realize that he wasn’t going feral in the beginning- he was merely holding back.

Both in strength and in pure carnal hunger.

No matter how badly you were craving to grind down restlessly on his face for hours- Nanami keeps you on a tight leash. He keeps you restrained on the table n’ getting only what’s given. Pushing down. Maneuvering his greedy mouth. No matter how much you wanted to plant your feet down and take control - Nanami Kento really does know what’s best.

“Failing the third lesson already, huh?”

Tears stream down your cheeks without you even realizing. “S-sorry, I didn’t-”

“Shhhhh shh shh. No need for an apology, honey.” He opens his swollen lips up wider n’ latches them around your clit for a few seconds. “My poor girl’s just overstimulated because she’s getting her pussy eaten out, huh? This pretty pussy’s just excited?”

“Yes-”

“That’s why your Kento’s here.” Nanami hums, his cold glasses frames hit the front of your cunt and you flinch. Making the man push them up his nosebridge with a chuckle—“And m’gonna take care of this pussy, baby.”

The way that Nanami looks dead-set into your widened peripherals as he says this makes your heart race.

Spitting a few more times down your dribbling slit. He was teeeeasing you before reaching his right hand down n’ smearing your pussylips open with two fingers- the rugged tips of his index n’ middle streeetching your damp hole apart. Just so goddamn thick. “Fourth lesson: sometimes…fingers feel even better.”

“O-ohhh—” Your voice breaks out in carnal trills. Trying to bend your spine but then holding yourself back-

He was thrashing inside a few more sloppy strokes - swiping, slurping, scrapin’ every inch of your velvety walls. Anywhere you could think of, his thickened digits were pumping in. 

At one point, he flicks his glistening tongue outside for you to take in his sheer size. “Size does matter when it comes to pleasing this needy pussy, alright? Don’t let any fuckin’ boy convince you otherwise.”

You mewl, “I-I wouldn’t need another boy if I just had you, Kento…”

And there’s something in his tone that sounds ecstatic- “Mmm, good girl.” Showing you a demonstration of his previous statement by mazin’ away straight towards your g-spot. And you could feel yourself shaking- all those times you had to worry about whether a guy could manage to make you cum?

Nanami was eatin’ you out like his one and only purpose in life was to make you cum.

“Always teasing me.” He scoffs out in a scalding breath. Raggedly running his mouth- his tongue. “Always riling me up with those pretty looks and that- damn-” Pushing and pushing onto your g-spot so hard that it makes you sob out of pleasure. “-mouth.”

Your jaw drops. “I l-love it—fuck.” 

Practically on instinct, you’re gliding a hand down your tummy- where you could feel butterflies. They only seemed to grow even harder n’ rougher with his textured tongue…“I think I can feel you right- ngh, here.”

“S’that so? You love it, huh? I can feel this pussy growin’ so wet—She’s so fucking tight, bet she’s never been fingered properly before.” As if anticipating your next moves, he’s digging his fingers deeper against your flesh. Leaving little crescent marks.

Whatever rational part of you is left begins to wonder just why he might have to pin you down even harder.

“And for my fifth lesson, honey.”

You’re waiting with baited breath as he presses a few more heated-open-mouthed kisses. Nanami’s luscious tongue reaching spots inside you that you weren’t even sure you had - ones undiscovered—

And it’s the only warning you get before the puckered, pretty flaps of his mouth opens up your pussylips. Just past where your folds were all swollen n’ tight- it was quite a squeeze even when it was just his tongue. Just his fingers.

So to have both Nanami’s fingers and his tongue inside?

It was sheer madness.

It was driving you stupid with his touch in but a single stroke- the jostling feeling of his wet muscle and his digits pressing against your walls and each other. Your walls. Each other. Your walls. Each other. Your channel was so snug that even the slightest movements made it feel as though you were bulging from the inside.

Pressing in. Fucking in.

In and in, and in—

“A real man is- haaah, always hungry.” Alternating between slipping his tastebuds into your hole, and then fishing himself back out—not to breathe. No, not even close. He was merely roverin’ his mouth over to spank down on your clit. “A real man would never get tired of his lover, my dear.”

“Kento—ngh.” You’re echoing out. 

Your moans bang against the four corners of the room and straight into his ears- the prettiest song he’s ever heard. “See how good you feel? S’only my duty to you, my dear.” 

“But Kento-”

Mouth makin’ out with your cunt as if he’d gone mad, too.

“Kento, don’t you need to breathe-”

“Fifth lesson. Who cares about breathing?”

He gasps out in interruption. Tongue swiping at a constant rhythm - it was difficult to get a single syllable out when all Nanami wanted to do was stick himself to your cunt and lick and lick and lick—

Both of you are realizing at the same time that he’d miscounted.

“For my fifth…” And he sounded maddened, too. Octaves higher. Tone breathy. There was a feral sort of hunger in his eyes that shook you to your core- “Sixth…?” As if he was just so pussydrunk that it was causing his brain to melt, acting on pure carnal instinct. “For my sixth lesson, honey. This old man’s mind is a little foggy, you see…”

You don’t get the chance to answer.

Because with that, Nanami only accelerates. First those fingertips of his were shoved all the way in and making your walls twitch with every hard prod—thud-thud-thudding way. Then he was smoochin’ over that same bruised spot with his slithering tongue, just swipin’ up where you were most sensitive. 

Before draaaaagging all the way out and about to suck on your clit. Throbbing so hard that he managed to time his lil’ bites to each pulse.

It was a dual sensation that left you driven mad. Absolutely mad.

Rubbin’ his fingers absolutely raw on those knotted bundles of nerves- 

You buck.

You get hit with a sudden spank.

“Mmmm—do you think you deserved that, my dear?” He asks. Too cute- the more he eats you out, the more he’s twitching in his pants. 

You sob, but you’re nodding. “Y-yes…”

Another spank.

“What was that?”

“Yes, Kento.”

“Good girl.” And honestly you could feeeel that sultry stretch of his grin—gently dabbing his tongue over your clit. Nanami Kento might’ve been a stern man, but he certainly wasn’t merciless. “But forget one more time and I’ll make you call me ‘sir’.”

You couldn’t deny the way that made your cunt twitch…

“Seventh and final lesson.” Nanami pronounces, his mouth slicked with so many layers of your sap that it gleamed—he wore those dangles of goopy syrup like a medallion. “When I make you cum- hah, you better reward me by cumming aaaaaall inside my mouth, honey. Or my cock.”

Your throat was utterly parched by now. And the only thing you could do was rasp out- “U-understood, Kento…”

Soon enough, he was babbling out hot breaths of something you could barely even understand- though each promise only sounded more ravenous than the last. 

Mouth glued to your cunt. Nails digging into your skin. Rougher than you ever thought was possible before, he’s sucklin’ at your clit and pounding his fingers into you so hard that it looked like nothing but a blur—

Nanami counts one, two, three rapid clenches of your pussy walls-

Before you’re throwing your head back and absolutely shattering into your high because of him.

Your toes curling. Your throat ragged raw.

His textured tastebuds are swipin’ across every bead of slick you were dripping out. Dripping. Every bead of slick. All over your puffy pussylips. All between them till he meets your hole- even all the way up your inner thighs.

He wasn’t letting a single bit go to waste.

Not even as that translucent sap dribbles down the sides of his mouth and ends up splashin’ right up to his handsome cheekbones-

The pleasure washes over you twofold - both with your orgasm and the way that Nanami was eloooongating your orgasm. Both his fingers and his mouth were working overtime to press into each peak of your high. “O-oh—” Thighs trembling on top of his shoulders- you don’t know when, but they end up locked so tight around his head. “It feels s-so good.”

Each tiny curve of his fingers made your body twitch in the aftershocks. “Extra lesson- fuck back into me.”

“Wh-what?”

It takes you a significant amount of effort to even open your eyes - let alone start to swerve your body uuup n’ down. And yet you’re doing it anyway—moaning as you ride all of Nanami’s handsome features in looooong, sloppy drags. “Fuh-fuck, like this?”

And he was just loving it.

“Mhmmm.” He gurgles out. Cracking one eye open, “Exactly. I know this is the best fuckin’ orgasm you’ve ever experienced, my dear.”

He wasn’t even being cocky - and you usually would’ve called him out on it - this was just plain true. “I-it is-”

“I know this pretty pussy wants it again, my dear.”

You can only nod.

“I know I surely want to eat her again, my dear.”

And nod and and nod as he’s fucking you through even the tiniest peaks and spasms—the surplus of bliss making your veins bubble. Burst. Bulldoze your senses as you’re practically vibrating with the sheer amount of pleasure that runs through them.

There seems to be a hazy aura covering your vision as you finally ride through your entire high.

Struggling up onto your elbows once more-

“Stay down—”

“Yes…?” Your eyes widen at Nanami’s strict order. He leaves a final slurping kiss at your clit before he stands onto his feet. Slightly swaying—

There was a glaze over his eyes. There was your slick coating all the way from his lower face, and puddling dooown to form a dark patch on his button-up. There were the short, panted breaths he was emanating - like a predator honed in on his prey - the longer he looked at you splayed out on the messy table.

Nanami Kento almost looked drunk - and not on the dinner, not even on the sparse wine. 

He was completely n’ utterly ruined on nothing other than your pussy.

He lunges towards you-

“Fuck, Kento—” You’re squealing at the rugged hands that tear through your clothes as easily as if they were butter. Shirt and bra easily landing on the carpeted floor- and your skirt was to follow before you even realized.

You’re just about to help Nanami shuffle you out of your panties - hips raising to facilitate it - before he takes another look at you. One long, hard look. And his hands leave your body as though that was enough-

He wanted your panties on.

Nothing but a sopping wet mess twisted ‘round your hips. Evidence of his depravity. 

“I want these off then.” You’re reaching up to tug on one of Nanami’s sleeves. He was still partly in his office clothes: button-up, formal pants, tie. And those sleeves of his had been pushed up to his elbows during your dinner, leaving you struggling not to gawk at the older man’s forearms. Strong. Slightly veined. Slightly tanned. 

He was just so attractive that it made you squirm. 

Nanami looks down at himself and lets out a hoarse—“Oh…right.” Like he’d been so caught up in you that he hadn’t even realized he was still clothed.

Pop!

Pop!

Pop!

Pop!

Those neat white buttons end up flinging to the ground- useless against his sheer desperation. Nanami wastes no time before tearing through his layers, ripping them off. Fabric pools onto the carpet below. His belt buckle clangs as it hits the ground.

Gentlemen couldn’t deny such a thing when their lover’s asking so nicely, could they? At least Nanami couldn’t-

And fuck…

Now, you always assumed that Nanami Kento was the kind of guy to be well-built. It was naturally in the way he moved, the way he stood, in the broadness of his shoulders.

But you’d never in your wildest dreams could have imagined that he’d be this chiselled. This toned.

You have to stop yourself from ogling him—you have to. But you can’t help it.

Not when Nanami’s body was ridged and curved in muscle- almost Herculean in nature. He had pecs that looked lush enough for you to bite - and you could already feel your mouth start to water - with a faint coating of golden and silver hair scattered across his skin. Wide shoulders. Trim waist.

His biceps flexin’ as he moves onto the buttons of his pants.

Lined through the middle with similar golden hair that drove down, down, down…

But you think your favorite part of him wasn’t the muscles or the hardness- no. Though they were certainly a nice addition, what made your pussy throb the most was just how…thick Nanami Kento was.

It was evident that Nanami was the type of person who liked hitting the gym often- but then again, it was evident that Nanami was the type of person who didn’t have the time to be hitting the gym often.

As often as he used to, at least.

And you? You were loving it.

Because all those muscles of his were naturally-formed. But with all the years of responsibilities as a father which meant his body was comforted by a layer of slight chub, big. Strong. Suddenly, you understood why ‘dad-bods’ were all the craze on social media—because you - for one - couldn’t help but linger your eyes at the sight of the softness to his shape. The slight roundness to his belly, abs barely peaking through.

“My dear…”

“Kento.”

He presses a thumb against the hemline of his trousers-

And then he’s letting you see him—all of him. 

From his V-shaped waist to his meaty thighs.

So thick. So strong.

You just wanted to be crushed between them.

And right down to the furious cock that stood upright and erect between them. Such a bulbous red tip, streaming with never-ending ribbons of pre. Such a thickened shaft that made you swallow—he had so many veins zipping down either side of him. You think he was about nine or so inches- perhaps on the lower end.

Before you’d realized it, you’d been reaching your hand between his legs- only for Nanami to stop you in your tracks.

“K-Kento…”

His thick fingers intertwine with yours and press your hand down on the tabletop. “Honey, you don’t have to reciprocate.” The older man stares deeply into your eyes- “You don’t owe me anything. I ate your pretty pussy out because I’ve been starving for her.”

“But I still want to.” You insist.

“Mmmm, how about after then?” He reaches his free hand up n’ thumbs across your bottom lip. “As much as I want to paint these beautiful lips with my cum, there’s another pair who’ve been waiting patiently for their turn…”

You shiver, “Erm- Kento, you should know that…this is my first time.”

He pauses. “Excuse me, my dear?”

“I’ve never done it before.” Looking up at him through your tear-draped lashes. “You’ll be my first.”

The thought takes a second to register in the older man’s sex-hazed mind. That animalistic part of him being overpowered by the rational.

Your first time.

Your first time.

Your first time.

He was about to take the virginity of that cute lil’ nanny he’s had his eye on for so long. “Honey, are you su-”

“Yes.”

Nanami almost moans at the sheer eagerness in your voice - your eyes were shining, and your legs locked tighter around him. “Well…” The man starts, dipping two thumbs down to your glistening pussy and spreading your folds wide open. He takes a good look at your entrance in comparison to the thickness of his cock, “Brace yourself then, my dear. S’gonna be a tight fuckin’ fit.”

In a split-second, he’s jerking his hips closer and smoochin’ your naked cunt with his cock. His rounded tip spreading your pussylips. His shaft sliding between your slit and massaging you with his veins.

Nanami was so goddamn hard that it looked painful.

And what better way to alleviate the pain than by pushing his pretty lil nanny’s legs apart and shoving his cock between them? Aching and needy for you.

Nanami was big enough to fuck you stupid with just his tip.

And he knows it, too. Having such a hard time completely fittin’ in his crowned girth, he just barely fucks the top of his shaft inside before groaning. Taking a peek at the way you were squirming below him, sobbing below him. Absolutely ruined- “Shit, honey.” Cupping his hilt with his left hand- Shit, honey, can you recite the lessons for me?”

You’re wobbling up onto your elbows, “Recite them?”

He can only nod. “Just—oh.” Cut off with the slightest sliiiiide between your sweet, swollen pussylips- he’s only managing to nudge the rounded edge of his length. “Just recite them. You have them memorized f’me like a good girl, yeah?”

“Yes-” Nodding frantically. “Yes, Kento-”

And that cute obedience of yours is enough to make him smile- tap-tap-tappin’ away the curve of his tip down there. For absolutely no other reason than wanting to. “Good.” He reels his hips back. “Then say it f’me, my dear.” And then forwards- “Say it while I fuck you.”

And the only thing you can fucking do is to babble out those words- the very same ones that’d been drilled into you. “The first lesson is that—fuck.” All the while Nanami’s probin’ tip enters your hole in a sudden thrust. “-th-that big girls use their words.”

Nanami grunts, voice shot. “Goooood good good- keep breathing now.” Hand clawing down your front—feeling for himself as he pumps inside. Tiiiight fucking fit, like he said. He almost wonders whether it would go in- “And then?”

“The second…” 

But it’s almost impossible to remember- to even think with those rapidfire haaaard hammers of his cock. 

That curved tip of his shaft kept pushing iiiin with the most lecherous squelches, drawing more n’ more sweetened slick out of you with every single thrust. That stretch was just incredible- it was making you see white. Just the first few inches of his pretty pink cock squeezing inside and pushing in and in and in—

Thwack!

Those rugged fingertips of his come spanking back down on your cunt - this time, however, they fit between your pussylips and latch onto your clit. And they stay there. He’s tuggin’ on that poor nub a few times just to bring you back to your senses- “Awww, you didn’t think you’d go unpunished for that—-did you, my dear?”

“I-I—no.” Because tears stream down your cheeks, and Nanami still isn’t letting go. He’s flopping out his tongue and lapping at that salty flavor-

“Then continue.” Humming at the taste of you. Fitting and fitting and—trying to stretch your elastic hole out to take him. It’s the first time you’ve ever felt something like this. “You’re doing so good. Keep going for Kento.”

Thwack!

“Keep talking, honey.”

“Second lesson-” Unable to do anything but arch your back, you’re being met with Nanami’s soft chest. Those pecs. The thundering of his heartbeat. It’s enough to make your mouth already water—“t-to…use you.”

He leans in, “What was that, my dear? Old man, you know…”

“To use you-”

“To not be afraid to use me.” He corrects. 

And it’s the last thing you hear before both Nanami’s hands snake down to grab your ankles- restraining them. Tightening them.

He’s bending you easily in half.

Legs on top of his shoulders. Thighs against thighs.

Pushing you all the way back into a mating press.

A fucking mating press.

Of course the hot DILF that you’re nannying for puts you in a mating press. Of fucking course!

And it’s only causing you to become wetter than you’ve ever been in your entire life- your head falls back against the table surface. Thud! An action that makes the older man on top of you reach behind n’ cushion the back of your scalp. “Easy there, my dear. Eeeeeasy.” His left palm lightly massages your sweaty head. 

“K-Kento-” Through your tears.

“Easy there- third lesson, remember?” 

“To s-settle down…”

“That’s my girl.” Nanami hums, head threatening to tip backwards at the sensations of your quivering cunt. It’s impossible to keep his mind when you were gushing out so much slick that it coats his shaft and leaves his ballsack all drenched.

And if he was this gone, then where did that leave you? 

Well, you were just babbling away the pretty syllables of his lessons. “The f-fourth lesson is that fingers feel better.” Hips bucking upwards. “The fifth is that real men are hungry—” Eyes scrunching with tears. That large circumference of his were pushing into tender spots n’ crevices that you didn’t even know you had - it felt as though your poor pussy was being split by him. Push after push.

After probe after probe.

Just animalistically trying to fit inside—

“The sixth- the sixth-”

“Breathe, honey.” Those smoky words of his scorch your face, as if Nanami himself was burning from the inside out. And there truly was a feverish tint to his words—to his actions, fuckin’ away sloppily between your pussylips. Slurp after slurp. “Breeeeeeathe- c’mon do it with me.” 

Conducting you through these relaxation exercises for a few strokes.

Listening to his own advice - that fourth lesson - his right hand lifts off of your thighs to roll over your throbbing clit. Just so neglected by now, it makes you see white to have him massaging that sweet spot all slow and sensual.

“The sixth lesson is…who cares about breathing?”

“Mhmmm.”

A guttural tone that sent vibrations straight from your drippin’ core and up to your brain. Only growing more muddled by the inch- “And oh! The extra.” As all good students do, you’re deciding to show a demonstration. How sinful that this sort of demonstration is you balancing your hips on the table n’ choosing to bounce right up to meet Nanami’s rutting hits. His pounces. “To- ngh, fuck back into you.”

“Oh, good girl- this old man almost forgot that one.” Sleazily, he’s pushing his glasses up his nosebridge.

Staring at the lewd sight below of you griiiiinding your hips up into his. It was just so messy because your lips were jittery with pleasure.

His happy trail rubs carnally on top of your clit- and it sends you into a frenzy—

“F-fuck that was-”

“Shhhh shh shh, easy.”

You waddle your ankles from their perch atop his shoulders. “Yes, I know-” Hissing out—“I’m breathing, Kento. I’m listening to what you’re saying, promise…”

“Good girl. Now inhale.” Of course, you can’t help but take a looooong gasp of the heady air thick in the dining room - the candles were scented like roses. “And-”

“And…?”

And Nanami doesn’t finish his sentence. He doesn’t bother telling you to exhale before his fat, throbbing cock is fucking every volume of air from your lungs. In this mating press, he could hit each angle even deeper than before - and that meant you’re feeling his thick circumference bruise all the way against your womb.

Your cervix.

Bottomed all the way out and Nanami was pummeling his length away as if there was even more, more, more of him left. A hint of something metallic hits his nostrils—and he can’t hold back the victorious chuckle that leaves him. He’s done it. “Continue.”

“I—what-” Struggling to catch your breath. “Oh my fucking-”

“Continue.”

“Who cares about breathing-”

A sixth lesson that he was fully demonstrating.

He really was mean.

He really was merciless.

Because he was fucking you into the dinner table like a damn animal—and the thing is Nanami wasn’t even going at a particularly fast pace in order to leave you speechless. He wasn’t merely half-thrusting away and hoping that you liked it. He wasn’t just tracin’ his cockhead down the sweet spots at the back of your pussy.

Nanami Kento was holding you down tight in his mating press. He has one hand gripping onto the back of your scalp - such a gentle gesture turned so sinful - and another crushin’ the fatness of his palm to your pussy.

Purposefully, the older man pushes the edge of his palm down on your clit. Harder. Harder. Harder.

And he was drilling into you harder by the second, too. Harder didn’t mean faster.

Just draaaagging every inch of his vein-covered shaft down your slick channel - he’s making sure that you can feel every single curve n’ ridge down his cock. He’s making sure that he massages your insides so thoroughly that it feels as though you’re being molded to his cock. Nothing more. Nothing less.

You swear you’re seeing the pearly gates spread wide open before your very eyes. “O-oh my god-” Reaching your hands up, Nanami lowers his strong body further into yours. Pushing you down against the dinner table, the pressure from all sides is too much that you have to claaaw down his perfect back. “Kento, what—fuck. I didn’t know that it could feel like this-”

And deep inside, you can feel his thickened tip flinching. Directly at your g-spot. “Mhm?”

“Yeah-” Voice shattering in your throat as his circumference swells just a few millimeters thicker inside of you. He was growing even bigger, harder, just by the sensations of your slurping cunt. “I-it just feels so good- I’ve never been fucked like this.”

“Honey…” Nanami’s mean yet pointed tone makes you stare up at him. “You’ve never been fucked before me.‘

“Oh.”

“Your virginity is mine.”

“Oh.”

Just that gone on his cock that you’d almost forgotten - even the realization itself seems to take up too much storage inside your already-muddled brain. Now filled with only the thought of him n’ his achingly hot cock—pouring out bucketloads of precum until it sloshed around inside.

Inside and inside.

Stirring ‘round and ‘round with his probin’ cockhead. He pushes deep into spots that you hadn’t even known existed, let alone could be smooched away by his pulsating shaft. He constantly whacks your g-spot until it feels numb.

Enough to render you speechless- 

“—graduated.”

And that makes your eyes blink open. “Wh-what?” 

“Oh, honey…” Nanami plants a loving peck on your lips- until that peck turns into a rugged bite. “What world are you on, hm? S’my cock that good? Awww, my poor girl—here.” Nanami’s perspired forehead sticks against yours. This time, he’s staring deeply into your eyes as he pronounces the words, “You’ve graduated.”

You cock your head in confusion, “From university?”

He chuckles, fine lines popping out from the edges of his eyes. You’re noticing that his glasses have slightly fogged up by now- “No, silly girl. From my lessons.”

“Oh…” Pouting, “But I liked your lessons, Kento.”

“Mmmm, you’ll like this one even more.” Dipping down- Nanami presses his stern lips right to the shell of your left ear. Whispering as if a secret shared by no one but the two of you in this world, “Remember how Yuji mentioned he wanted a little brother…”

A jolt goes through your body- as does the realization.

“If you’d like then-”

“Yes.” You know it might be rash. But looking at him like this - looking at Nanami Kento so deep in the pangs and plunges of his carnal pleasure - how could you deny what you want? “Yes—”

The blond man’s breaths start to grow heavier, eyes slightly widened. For the first time in the longest time, he actually looks like his usually-sensible self. Those molten eyes of his search yours for an answer- “Honey, really think this throu-”

“I did.” You’re insisting. And if that wasn’t enough, he could feel your wobbly ankles surge with the strength to lock ‘round his neck. “Inside, Kento.”

Nanami’s mouth moves noiselessly with an answer, but his cock does all the swelling. So painfully hard that you were sure it was tougher than rocks-

And there’s only one thing left for you to do. “Inside…sir.”

If he was any less of a gentleman - of a man, really - then Nanami would’ve cum inside you then and there. At least in his mind—which was focused solely on digging his heels into the carpet, solely on gritting his teeth and holding his damn cock back from pouring out those wads of cum like he knew he wanted to.

Was on the verge of doing.

He was instead collapsing the entirety of his weight upon your body- feeling your limbs strain, hearing your joints pop. But not even that noise crackling in his eardrums is enough to get the man to slow down.

Now he was just fucking you sloppy—grunts filtering between his grit canines by the minute. By the thrust. “The first to fuck you.” And what a rare occasion: to hear the ever-eloquent Nanami Kento stutter. “I’ll be the first to breed you too, my dear.”

“Oh—fuck, yes.” Your entire body shivers in excitement. You could feel the pit of pleasure starting to grow in your stomach. 

“I’ll be the first to give this pretty cunt a taste of cum.” And you could hardly believe that such a sinful sentence was leaving the confines of his mouth—“She’s probably so thirsty by now, no? I’ll be the first to quench that thirst, my dear, just you wait-” Pinching your clit between the fingers on his right hand once more. “-mama.”

Really, if you were calling him ‘sir’ then it was only fair for him to call you by that pretty nickname. Something primal awakens inside of you-

“I’ll be the first one to stuff this pretty pussy-” Nanami gurgles out, eyes locking in on your stomach. That was where his rounded tip occasionally made an appearance by bulging through your flesh n’ skin as he fucked inside you. “-with so much of my cum that you’ll be bloated.”

You gasp hysterically, “Yes-” So turned on that it almost hurt - you wanted him. Now. “Yes, yes, yes—”

“I’ll be the first to make you feel me in here- for weeks. Months.” Thrust after thrust. Pinch after pinch. It was incredible how much he was stimulating you to tears- “I’ll be the first where—when you walk down the street, everyone will know that I fucked you. Everyone will know that- that this pretty pussy is mine, that I’m the one fuckin’ her and stuffing her and—and giving her my cum every night.”

Rolling a sweet, sweet heart on top of your clit.

“They’ll know that I’m the one fuckin’ the cute, sweet lil’ nanny—all of them. The professors. Those parents at pick-up. Your friends. My friends.” He chuckles darkly. And he doesn’t care who’d be scandalized. “Wanna know why, my honey?”

“Wh-why—” You sob out.

And he leans in to whisper in your ear- “Because I’ll be the one making you a momma.”

Until you’re all round and glowing with his seed.

Until you’re so full of him that you can’t take anymore.

Until you’re so stuffed that you wouldn’t be able to hide it- he hopes you’re walking ‘round with his cum between your legs for weeks.

It’s taking only that and a single puuuush against your g-spot for you to topple off the edge of your high. Bliss pumping through your veins in waves, you couldn’t escape from the constant throb and ebb of it. Dimming the edges of your vision. Making the lights seem brighter.

Again and again and again—

He’s probin’ inside that swollen cockhead to push you through the bouts of your pleasure. In the time he’s had you like this, Nanami’s already mapped out where every single one of your sweetest spots where- and first he’ll thwack! his hand upon your clit. Then he’ll move onto your tender bruised spots at the rim, then his cock delves deeper until he’s hitting your g-spot—then again and again he’s knockin’ on your womb.

Filling it with so much of his cum.

“Breathe.” Your orgasm hits you so hard that you have to manually control your breathing- and Nanami’s right beside you. Walking you through every step, every exhale and inhale. “Breathe iiiiiin.”

You’re sucking in a breath. “Fuck-”

And it’s just then that he’s emptying out a particularly powerful wave of his own euphoria. Balls clenching as his ribbony white cum leaks near your cervix- with your breath sucked in, you’re only feeling the sensations even stronger. “And out.”

Panting out with a whine. “Fuuuuck- f-feels so good.”

Too good, almost.

You never knew it could feel like this to have someone pourin’ out all their lecherous sap inside of you- the thick layers clinging onto either side of your walls. There’s so much of it - so much volume that you wondered just how he managed to keep it all stuffed inside - frothing out and forming a circle of white ‘round Nanami’s hilt. Gleaming with every thrust. Puddling out and sticking your thighs together— 

Head throwing slightly back, though still peeking at you through his lashes. “Honey…”

Nanami’s gruff tone makes you jump. “Yes?” Still slightly twitching from the aftershocks of your incredible high.

He stares into your eyes with a slight smile. Something unreadable. “You forgot the seventh lesson earlier.”

The seventh…?

Oh.

Oh.

Fuck.

It’s with a sudden cold thrill that you’re registering what he said- and remembering the mistake you’d made during your recitations earlier. “I-it was to cum all over-”

“That’s quite alright, my dear. No need to tell me now.” Nanami smiles the sweetest smile that makes your cunt start to throb - his eyes shuttered closed, his lips pecking yours. His cock shovels a long, hard thrust inside you—“But I will have to rescind your graduation.”

You gape, “What, why-”

“Until you’re completely and fully stuffed by me.” He grumbles out the rest of his statement. His condition. 

Hands rovering all over your body, Nanami makes sure that every slight tingle of your high has passed before he’s pulling out of you with a loud sluuuuurp! Immediately scooping you up into a princess carry n’ walking in the direction of his bedroom.

It isn’t long before you find yourself draped over Nanami Kento’s large mattress - on all fours so that he can slip inside you with ease. Pumping away immediately- “Until you’re fuckin’ pregnant, consider that you’re still taking lessons.”

You’re sobbing into your newly-caught pillow. “Oh—oh fuck.”

To which Nanami leans over and snatches your neck into a fucking headlock- his strong biceps pushing against the sides of your throat. “Happy Valentine’s Day, my dear. When this is all done- fuck, m’gonna show you how much I love you.”

“I l-love you—” Feeling his rounded tip immediately pierce across your g-spot and towards your womb. Full. “-too.”

“Mmm, I love you more.” Watching as you shake and quiver. “We’ll get you something sweet after this, honey, don’t you worry.” He hums- before sneaking a look at the both of you through the mirror in his bedroom and chuckling. 

Ruined. Completely and utterly ruined.

“If we make it out of Valentine’s Day alive, that is.” 

Maybe Shoko could babysit Yuji a little longer?

“Papa’s gonna do his best to try for a second child, alright?”

.

.

.

Morning shed its sunlight like the clothes upon Nanami’s apartment floor.

A stream of white-gold Sun, the richness of the day, enters through his windows and splays out perfectly on the bed. It dapples light across his naked chest and leaves him stirring—

Valentine’s Day.

The dinner.

The table.

You. Being taken on the table.

Afterwards on this very bed, afterwards on the damn bedroom floor after he heard a snap coming from somewhere on the bed frame. He’d shovelled himself n’ his gooey white sap inside you until the Sun had risen—

And it’s enough to make him jerk upright in his bed.

Blankets falling around his waist, sleepy eyes scanning the room for any sign of you.

From here, he couldn’t see what’d been made of your clothes in the dining room- or your panties in his bedroom. But it was obvious that you weren’t here. If from your physical presence, then from the warmth you brought into his drafty Tokyo home.

Just to make sure, he casts several wide-eyed looks around the room - breath-still in case there was a single noise from the kitchen - and still…nothing. Absolutely nothing.

There’s a sinking feeling in his chest that he doesn’t want to make sense of.

Of course, what was he thinking? He’d said…those words to you last night- but just because you’d said them back didn’t mean it was real. It was probably in the heat of the moment, you’d probably snuck out before dawn broke so you didn’t have to face him. You’d probably woken up disgusted.

He didn’t blame you - there were no promises between the two of you. And even if there had been, he knows he can’t find it in himself to get angry at you.

If anything - if you chose to quit after this - he supposes he’ll have to start looking for a nanny again. Something in Nanami’s chest twists, and he reaches up to rub the spot where his heart was.

He wouldn’t mind the long and tedious process if it still led him back to you. He wouldn’t mind the long and tedious process if it meant you were there with him - not as a nanny, just yourself being you.

It was a cold morning.

And Nanami Kento was clenching his sheets, just about to throw his legs over the side of the bed and get out—he needed to put away his clothes anyways before Shoko came with Yuji. What was the time anyway? It was his off-day today, and maybe he could take Yuji out to the park to take his mind off of-

And it’s then that several things happen at once.

Nanami’s eyes catch the face of the clock on his bedside cabinet: 12:48PM.

Nanami’s jaw drops at just how late it is.

Nanami snatches his phone off of the cabinet and makes to race outside while calling Shoko-

And he makes it about two frantic steps, too, before getting stopped by a sudden squeal of laughter. Loud and bubbling. Euphoric.

Of course, it was none other than his son. 

Echoing a short burst of laughter throughout the apartment- before abruptly cutting himself off with a pronounced ‘shhhhhh!’ It rings even louder than his laugh, and reaches Nanami’s ears alongside some words. “Sowwy! Yuji promises not to wake papa!”

And Nanami’s brows furrow, wondering whether Shoko had somehow managed to forge a key to his apartment and get in. Before out of nowhere—your voice is the one that answers him.

“S’alright, sunshine.” You’re using that nickname he always did. Sleepiness was still laced into your tone, and he could tell it hadn’t been long since you must’ve waddled away. 

Since you must’ve put away the clothes in the dining room, since you must’ve opened the door for Yuji - Nanami would hate to imagine the smug look on Shoko’s face then, but the surplus of texts from her were already doing the job. “Papa needs to be awake for breakfast-in-bed, doesn’t he?”

The smell of pancakes drifts through the bedroom door - along with Yuji’s answering call. “True…but what if papa won’t wake up?”

“Then we eat the pancakes.”

“Yes—” Yuji echoes, “Thank you, Cupid.”

“Hm?”

“Because Cupid made you n’ papa married, right?” But of course. It leaves you stunned for a few seconds, and Yuji obliviously chattering. “I’ve always wanted to keep you- papa, too. Even though I know he won’t say—can we keep you now, Ms. Nanny?”

Your voice sounds slightly thicker than before. “You can keep me as long as you want, Yuji.”

“Thank you, Cupid!”

Two evil cackles, and the sound of footsteps.

You’re opening the door with a flood of sunlight and a tray of pancakes in your hand. Yuji rushes in after you with a call of ‘good morning’ - and by the smile on your face…yeah.

Yeah, it really is a good morning.

He still doesn’t know how to explain to Yuji that the two of you aren’t married yet, however.

It’s in an hour that you finally break the news- but rush to assure the little boy before he bursts into tears, that he could ‘keep you’ as long as he wanted. And that the two of you were together—yes, together together. Nanami puts off answering Shoko (she ambushes him for gossip the very next day). 

It’s in a month that you start officially calling yourselves lovers - boyfriend and girlfriend, whatever it is. It seems like so much more than that, however. And so Nanami just settles for introducing you as his partner at those tedious work dinners.

It’s in a few more months that those work dinners become the last he’s attending. Because Nanami Kento quits that damn job, using everything he’s saved up to buy a little bakery and a house just a small ways off from the heart of the city - not quite the countryside as he once imagined, but this was good, too. It was still a manageable distance from your university and Yuji’s school, and yet so much bigger than the apartment.

It’s in a year that Nanami’s bakery is at the height of business - a figure that will only keep growing as the years pass by. Word spreads far and wide about those treats- and soon enough, he’s forced to fire extra hands and more part-timers than he ever thought would be needed. The little bakery grows into a big bakery, with time.

You couldn’t have been more happy to see those dark circles underneath his eyes cease for once, to see him pursue his dreams. Yuji couldn’t have been more happy to get all the sweet treats he could’ve ever wished for.

And now, Nanami could buy him all the car beds he could’ve ever wished for.

He also starts looking into wedding rings.

He still isn’t sure about a Spiderman-themed wedding, but he knows he’ll be baking the cake.

A/N. Hehehe that Nanami and the flowers scene was inspired by my father having a tradition to always buy me a bouquet as well today.

he’s laughing, your undies are drenched and your whole pussy is throbbing and he’s laughing… because he truly has no idea how gorgeous he sounds while working out. showing off his strength, glistening and grunting. it’s not even funny, you’re like a second away from cumming untouched — keeping your own whimpers trapped under your tongue as your greedy gaze slinks down to the bounce of tanned pecs whilst yuuji stoops low and bends his arms in quick fire succession. you feel his stomach muscles ripple against yours, abs hot and hard where you are so so soft and you swear, you feel a small trickle of arousal run between your swollen folds — its scent tangling in the temperate, sweaty air of the gym.

it’s not until he looks down at you to ask if he should try one handed push ups because at practise the other day fushiguro said he couldn’t he catches your pouty lips and the glossy sheen in your eye. yuuji blinks, once then twice and then smiles. it’s neither cruel nor wicked — not that you can tell.

“oh, i see baby,” itadori coos down at you, not intending to be patronising — even though you like it. his head cocks to the side, chocolatey eyes peering through his lashes as though he’s seeing you right down to your needy soul. then suddenly, his waist angle a little lower — intentionally pressing against you so that all you can feel is his thick, oozing hardness through his shorts. “i’ve been holding back too. let’s try a different work out, that sound okay?”

now you’re nodding, legs instinctively raising and hooking onto his hips to make sure he hits just where you need. your hands fly up to steady themselves on his rugged, bulging biceps to anchor yourself to reality when yuuji finally nestles his cock between clothed folds — a breathy and amused scoff escaping him at the lewd squelch your sex makes from how sticky it is.

“p-please, yuu,” you sniffle, clenching around nothing, gushing even more so. your trembling thighs bracketing yuuji’s hips threaten to with draw and squeeze shut — desperate for any kind of friction to ease the aching heartbeat in your mound.

the jock tuts, bowing down on his forearms with his hands planted firm either side of your head, to press kisses to the teary apples of your cheeks. you had no idea you were even crying. “i know, honey,” yuuji coos softly. “so keep these perfect thighs open for me, yeah?”

one heavy hand claps against the side of your ass, short and sharp — enough to make you yelp…but itadori quickly offers you a short reprise, snapping his hips into yours and nudging his bulge against the swollen, precious nub tucked away behind your ruined panties. just enough to have you gurgling and quivering through your release.

end. reblogs and comments are always appreciated! just liking doesn't do anything. so leave a comment to motivate this writer if you'd like to see more!!

Your breath hitches, and you’re not entirely sure why. Perhaps it was the rich baritone of his voice, the way it pierced your ears even above the wind, wetness, and anger of the storm. Perhaps it was his classically handsome face - slicked-back hair, high cheekbones, a pert mouth that was somehow knowing - like in one of those historical paintings, a Prince Charming. 

You wouldn’t have been able to pinpoint him in any century.

Or perhaps it was the way that when you stepped back, on instinct, he leaned down to loop a strong arm around your waist in a single, fluid motion. So fast that you muse he might’ve teleported.

Whoosh–! 

You startle at the noise above you, and look up to find that the strange man had unfolded an umbrella over the two of you - one that you hadn’t even realized he’d been holding.

He lets the berth of it cover your frame, like the dark wings of a bat stretched taut. Uncaring of whether he himself gets wet, the man shields you against the icy billows of rain that blew through the portico. His warm grin stretches, urging. “My lady?”

“O-oh.” It registers that he was speaking to you. You’re unsure where to place your palms, and they lay flatly open against the man’s toned chest. Still. “My apologies for- for the intrusion so late. But I…”

You were getting distracted by his kind, molten eyes is what. But he finishes for you with a slight huff of amusement, “Happened to get caught in this monstrosity of a storm, am I right in guessing?” At your nod. “Well, it’s no wonder then, my lady. I’m only glad you made it here safe.”

“I-” You were right in feeling like you weren’t able to pinpoint which century he was from. Because his tone of speaking wasn’t reminiscent of any dialect you’ve ever heard before - something melodic yet stiff, something understandable yet…dated. 

And despite your incessant pondering, he stands as patiently as ever. Holds you as patiently as ever.

Even though the wind ruffled that neat hair of his, and the rain pelted his sides without the cover of the umbrella. You hasten to explain yourself, “I was actually on my way from a work function, a bit far away. When this storm suddenly hit and my car broke down in the middle of it- actually, I think it ended up in some ditch with no power, which is why I ended up- well- here.” You finish, lamely.

He looks thoughtful, nodding empathetically.

“And I really do apologize for the intrusion, really, but if I could stay just until the storm blows over and I can call for help-”

“Do forgive me for interrupting you, my lady.” The man’s precise tone speaks once more, “But you may stay here as long as you like.”

Relief washes down your spine like a bucket of heat, melting you instantly. “Oh, thank you- thank you.” And before you know it, you’re falling deeper into his arms. 

“A lady must not thank a mere worker.” He hums with a tut, and you wonder whether that means he was one of the staff at this large building - what little you could see of the silhouette seemed larger than a normal house, and you’d assumed that it was some hotel at first.

He steps soundlessly to help you steady yourself. And you’re soon being warmly gestured inside, the umbrella being held over your head with each step, even as he stepped aside into the rain to let you through. “Come now, we must dry you off at once. Being in the cold for this long won’t be good for your constitution, my lady.”

You step inside as he directs, and it feels like stepping into a warm bath - just right.

And what you’d seen in the distance - that yolky, blinking light that led you here, your body moving as if on instinct - wasn’t actually a lightbulb, as you’d thought. In actuality, it was about a dozen, flaring chandeliers.

Illuminating a fresco of gardens and flowers and spring. Lined along the sprawling ceiling like fruits that were overripe, fit to burst. They danced ever-so-slightly in the draught that the open door brought, yet not a single candle extinguished from what you could make out.

You felt so tiny in the house- mansion, as you were quickly coming to learn. 

Greeted by an imperial staircase made of marble, and accents of gold that fought with the chandeliers over which one of them shined brighter. You don’t think you could possibly count how many hallways holed themselves into the mansion just from here. Hidden caverns filled with antiques, and ever-green chrysanthemums, and paintings that you could just see the corners of. Upon either side of the entrance were large Clerestory windows that provided snapshots of the flared lightning outside; so high up, so large, that it made the front door feel dwarfed. 

You think it looks strangely familiar - perhaps something reminiscent of those illustrations you’d seen in classic stories.

Curiously, along the winding corridors, you note that there were many mirrors. Some small and bejeweled, some tall from ceiling to floor.

In intervals unknown to you, they stood out - the brightest of them all.

You jump at the feeling of something touching your elbow-

“My apologies for startling you, my lady.” Comes your host’s deep voice, and you whirl around to find him bowed. With a warm, citrus-scented towel presented to you (when did he even have the time to get that?) “Please, do make use of this towel to rinse off the water on your body. If you would like, I may do it for you?”

“No no, I can do it.” You insist, feeling your heart race. His stern lips quirk up ever-so-slightly when you reach for it. “Thank you.”

“It is my pleasure. I wouldn’t want my lady getting sick.”

My lady…

You shake your head, trying to get it free of that giggling lil’ voice that kept repeating those two words. Instead, you take the towel from the beautiful man and—oh.

Underneath your breath, you gasp through your nose. Because the very second that your fingers had grazed his own when taking the towel, a chill wafted down your spine. So cold. So…unnatural. You weren’t sure whether it was the sheer temperature, or the fact that it was the sheer temperature of his hand.

Why was he so cold?

Almost as if he sensed your thoughts, the man swiftly pulls his hand away. And it’s only then that you realize that he was dressed so smartly.

Shoes polished till they reflected your bewildered stare. Well-fitted black pants. A three-piece suit filled out by his broad shoulders. Black tailcoat. High collar. Steely buttons. And an emblem on his coat pocket that you couldn’t read from here. Gloves. Ah—so that was why he was so cold, you guessed.

Surely there was no other reason, right?

Lightning flashes.

The rooms lights up in ice-white.

“Oh dear, it seems the storm won’t be getting any better tonight.” He announces, clapping his hands twice. And then, previously unseen curtains start closing in on the windows so high above. Effectively shutting out the storm, the night, and with it, the world.

You wondered what automatic mechanism that was.

“We best get you to bed immediately, my lady.” The blond-haired man says, his hair gleaming in the candlelight - and you could’ve sworn that it’d been all ruffled and messy by the storm just prior. Now, it was untouched, as if he’d never stepped outside. 

He rounds the entrance, politely gesturing at you to follow. 

“Such a lovely place.” You observe, as you’re led up the staircase and into the East wing. The hallways were tall and ancient, humming with centuries of stories untold. And, as you’d expected, the antiques, the chrysanthemums, the paintings.

Blurs of faces that you were walking too quickly by to properly make out.

“Why thank you, my lady.” He looks back briefly, holding a golden candelabra to light your pathway. Still walking, he doesn’t need to stop to speak. “This is an old home, with old bones, old secrets.” The man cracks a grin, “I should know, I have been lucky to call myself a worker of this fine home for a long time.”

So he did work here - a butler, all signs were pointing to. You hum, butlers had always seemed like something out of a soap opera, or those regency novels.

Having him in front of you like this made you feel somewhat dizzy.

And you were entranced by the noiseless way he moved, “And how long is a long time?”

“Oh, one could say it feels like…centuries.” He chuckles to himself.

You make a few turns, heading deeper into the mansion. And you can’t help but notice that you’ve yet to see a single other person here except the two of you-

“The masters of this home are more in name.” The butler says, in his smooth tone. Like he could sense the question forming. “This house has been passed down through generations, and I fear that I have yet to officially meet whoever owns this grand establishment now.”

“Oh?” Your brows raise, “They seriously don’t come to visit a house this beautiful? Not even as a vacation home?”

“I’m afraid so. It is all but abandoned.” He nods, “But alas, I do not complain. They employ me here to clean and take care of this home, and that’s all I can ask. To preserve a piece of history so magnificent, no matter how much they try to forget…it shall always haunt you.”

“So you’re alone here?”

He stops then. And turns back to you with an unreadable expression- oh, something about the way the candelabra outlined the hollows of his face made you feel cold all over again. “I’m afraid so.” Voice quiet. “Would you prefer otherwise, my lady?”

In the distance, the growl of thunder trundles.

“No no, nothing like that.” You rush to answer, not wishing to offend the kind soul helping you for the night (and honestly, even despite that, you didn’t feel a speck of discomfort with him- in fact, you felt…at ease). “Honestly, you’ve been more than a delight- I was just wondering whether you don’t get lonely in such a big house, all by yourself. I certainly would visit.”

He observes you for a moment. Before his warm expression is back again- “Do not worry yourself over my wellbeing, my lady, of course, as all good workers do, I have gotten used to it. Yet…I must admit that there is the occasional night in which I, too, crave humanity—”

You listen, enraptured.

Before he then gestures to the door in front of which you’d stopped at - you hadn’t even noticed. It was an unassuming mahogany door, polished and pristine like all the rest.

His gloved hands gently twist the doorknob and lead you inside. “Your room, my lady.” He leaves the candelabra on top of a cabinet by the doorway. “I have arranged for a warm bath to be prepared for you, with a fine selection of body washes and shampoos from around the world. After which I ask you to allow me to treat you to a light supper in bed, as you must be hungry after such an exciting night. Kindly ring the bell-” He gestures at a slim handbell on the cabinet beside the candelabra that you hadn’t seen before. “-and I shall be here for you before the second ring.”

“This is…” You look around the room- chamber, more like. 

The candles on the chandelier inside had lit up as soon as you stepped inside (you had to figure out that mechanism, somehow!) Bathing the expansive bedroom in a soft glow, like this, it almost looked like a piece of heaven itself.

An antique chamber. A four-poster king-sized bed in the middle. A plethora of sweet-scented flower pots. A few paintings of landscapes. A floor-to-ceiling window overlooking the balcony, the garden. Though now, you could only see the storm outside. On one side of the room, you could see a shelf of thick tomes, impeccably dusted, and next to it was a fireplace. Roaring. 

You wondered how he had the time to light it.

On the other side it opened up to what you imagined must be an equally as luxurious bathroom. The polished tile squeaked as you made your way inside, reflecting your wind-torn coat that felt more than out-of-place in such a room. It almost felt like you were wading across a ballroom. 

You whirl, and you note that one of the walls adjacent to the bed wasn’t taken up by some painting or mural or wallpaper- it was nearly covered by a gleaming mirror. How interesting.

“-this is amazing.” You breathe.

“I am glad that it is to your liking, my lady.” He bows, “If you need anything, or wish to ask anything, simply ring the bell.”

And as the blond-haired man moves to exit with a final bow, you reach your hand out- “Wait-”

He turns. “My lady?”

“Ah, I didn’t ring the bell but- your name.” You fiddle with the drenched fabric of your coat as you ask, wondering whether it was salvageable anymore. You tell him your own name, before questioning, “Can I ask your name?”

He smiles. “Nanami Kento, my lady.” And there’s a zip of excitement that runs through your body at finally putting a name to a handsome face. Nodding, you expect that that would be the end of your small pleasantries, and you turn back-

But before he leaves for good tonight, Nanami speaks over his shoulder. “And worry not, I am one hell of a butler.”

You snap your head back to listen to him speak, and find that he was already gone.

The hallway was dark outside, and there was a slight wind coming in. You hasten to shut the door and find that you can’t even hear Nanami’s footsteps disappearing, can’t even hear his shadow—well, you always had the bell, right?

You shook off the slight prickling at your skin, and welcomed yourself into the clouds of warmth spiffing from the bathroom.

.

.

.

That night may have been the best sleep of your life, you had to admit. Like you’d been home, and doubled by the luxury of the place.

It might have something to do with the fact that the massive bed was amongst the comfiest things you’ve ever felt, or it might have something to do with the easy cotton fabric of the pyjamas that Nanami had left while you were bathing.

You’d come out of the bathroom, refreshed (the bathroom ceiling was blanketed with the most beautiful mosaics, and the bathtub was accented with gold), only to find that he’d left out nightwear of your liking.

Of your exact size.

You’d stopped then, wondering how he managed to find something that fit you so perfectly. 

Perhaps it was a lucky guess, and a previous owner of the mansion happened to be your exact size? Then again, it did feel so new in your hands…

Without wearing yourself out even further, you’d rung the bell and partaken in a quick dinner (you’d been famished, having only scoffed down a protein bar during the conference). And then chosen to ignore the shivers that ran down your spine to tuck yourself in. Soon oblivious to the storm, and the mansion’s creaking, and the eyes that seemed to watch you at night.

It all felt like part of a dream.

In the morning, you’d awoken to the twittering of birds, and a slab of golden sunlight, like butter, filtering in through the window. Nanami had already laid out a gorgeous princess-line dress of emerald green for you, with a deep v-cut collar that showed just a coy bit of skin, and a silhouette that flattered your frame perfectly.

That, too, was the perfect fit.

You adjusted your sleeves and couldn’t help but titter to yourself as you felt like a princess. In no time after you got ready, there was a knock at the door.

“Oh, come in.”

It couldn’t be anyone but Nanami. And he looked as handsome as the last time you’d seen him (earlier, in the late hours of the night you’d almost wondered whether it was the dimness that made him look so extraordinarily handsome).

But no, he was as beautiful as ever. His golden hair glinting in the sun, like a halo, and his smile beaming as he walks closer to you. “Good morning, my lady.” Nanami bows, “I see you have already prepared yourself for the day. How exquisite you look, should my eyes fall upon such a sight every morning then I should be blessed. Am I correct in assuming that the dress is adequate to your tastes?”

“It’s just beautiful, Nanami.” You run your hands down the sides, admiring. “I don’t know how you managed to get my perfect size.”

He brings a gloved index up to his lips, with a wink. “A butler always had his secrets.” Before he straightens up, “Now, if you would allow me, may I help you with your hair and make-up?”

“Oh-” You’d just thought about rifling through the vanity’s drawers, with the slight hope that you might find the products you use. And as if he could read your mind, he was offering. “Are you…sure?”

“It would be my honor, my lady.” Nanami sits you down on the chair before the vanity mirror. His broad frame behind you- from here, you could see just how snugly that tailcoat fit his slender waist. “You may keep your eyes on me, or on yourself- please tilt your chin up—”

Soft, cold hands get to work.

And you really did feel like a princess.

.

.

.

By the time you’re walking downstairs for breakfast, you find yourself all dolled up just the way you like it - and you didn’t even have to give Nanami too many directions. You thoroughly considered taking him back once you leave.

With the crook of his elbow stuck out for you to hold onto, his biceps flexed, you made your way to sit at the head of a long table. Narrow and at least as lengthy as two of your bedrooms back home.

Him trailing behind you at the entrance, you excitedly walk forwards to sit down- and have your chair pushed in by…Nanami?

You look towards the entrance once more, you could’ve sworn that he was still there the last time you looked.

He swiftly placed a steaming silver dish of breakfast in front of you, and then filled the table up with so many fruit platters upon toast upon sneaky puddings. Your eyes took in the kaleidoscope of food, feeling slightly dizzy at the sheer amount. “Did you—did you make all of this just this morning, Nanami?”

“What, this?” He looked in slight surprise at the table, as if wondering whether that was really an incredible amount. “Just part of my duties, my lady. Along with the cleaning, the baking, and the watering, a few to name.”

You look behind you - the dining room overlooked part of the garden that you hadn’t noticed last night during the storm.

Plush plants that somehow seemed unaffected by the torrents of water that had poured down: roses, chrysanthemums, marigolds, and weeping willows that all swayed idly in the wind. Like they were welcoming you. Welcoming you back. They were planted in a maze-like pattern. From here you think you could see flower-filled archways, and a lake that glittered underneath the sun.

You wondered how you missed it all last night - surely you would have stumbled across a few of the hedge growth? It all seemed so barren as you’d wound your way up to the portico, so acrid. But now…

“And if you don’t mind me being so brazen, I hope you do forgive me for this.” Nanami says, and you whip your head back to him- him and a very familiar set of car keys he was holding. “I took the freedom to move your car into our driveway.”

Your eyes nearly pop out of their skull, “You mean you pushed it all the way here?”

“Perhaps. Perhaps not.” Nanami smiles that secret smile, “Would you like to take a look at it after breakfast, my lady?”

You nod fervently, gulping down the rest of your breakfast. 

In a few minutes, you’d already finished and was being tutted by Nanami into drinking enough water and putting on the outside slippers (procured by him, also your exact size) before you went outside. As expected, your car was a wreck.

There was one wheel missing and the engine seemed to be completely busted.

“I have already summoned the town’s mechanic.” He’s telling you, as you looked on at the car in gloom - that thing had taken up a lot of savings to acquire, and above all you hated to see it in such a sorry state. How would you get home?

“And?” You ask, eagerly. “Did they say when they would get here?”

“I’m afraid he won’t be here for at least a few days, my lady.” Nanami frowns empathetically, mirroring you. “The storm last night was quite vicious, you see. It has most of the roads blocked with trees, and until those get cleared up, he won’t be able to make it up here.”

You swear underneath your breath.

“But the good news is you can stay here as long as you like!” He attempts to lighten the mood, with a smile. “In fact, I might just keep you even longer.”

“Oh, but I really couldn’t impose…”

“I insist.”

And that was that, it seems you’d be staying here for a little longer than you’d originally planned. Though, with Nanami’s hospitality, you doubted you’d feel anything but at home.

Right?

.

.

.

The rest of your day and the next was spent simply reading the fantasy novels in your bedroom, lounging in the gardens and corners of the mansion. 

By your second day there you’d explored every inch of the mansion that there was to explore (except for, perhaps the basement. A strangely nostalgic door outside. Which you had reached the very foot of, before Nanami had gently nudged you back inside with some comment about wines being mulled there that cannot see the light of day until the time was right). It’d taken you five entire days to get yourself properly acquainted with the place.  

And with your profanities.

Spewing them out, you don’t think you’ve ever used before as you attempted to get even a single bar of signal for your phone.

“Goddammit-” You grit your teeth, for the nth time in the past hour. It’s your second day in the mansion, and you’re leaning over the balcony of your bedroom, so far outwards that you think you might just fall off. 

With your hand outstretched, phone fisted in the air and searching for a signal. You couldn’t call anyone like this, let alone the mechanic to confirm. None of your messages or emails went through, either. “How are we this far up and yet I can’t get a single bar- oh, when I get home I’m cancelling this stupid subscription mark my words.”

“Might I suggest, my lady–” Nanami says from behind you. He stood beside your bed, changing the blankets and fluffing the pillows. “-that in the meantime you perhaps take a look at our library? I think you’ll find that we have certain books that are quite riveting.”

“Maybe…” You respond, still stung by the uselessness of your phone. “I don’t suppose that in the meantime you could also arrange a messenger pigeon for me, could you?”

He perks up, “I shall tame a pigeon immediately-”

“No no, it’s alright.” You wave off, with a stifled laugh. Ah- he always did manage to put you in a better mood, despite your circumstances. “Maybe I’ll take a look at the library tonight, it beats trying not to smash my phone to bits.”

“Quite.” Nanami quips.

And before you can say anything more, he’s walking over to you. Placing his hand on top of the phone - effectively on top of yours—“After all, it is a beautiful day outside. Would you fancy a walk in the garden, my lady?”

“Y-yes please-” You whisper, at his proximity. Cold to the touch. 

“Then, I shall get your slippers ready.” He smiles, and leaves. You can only look from afar as he exits, letting a breath leave your chest that you didn’t know you’d been holding in for the moment.

Your head drops down without thinking to look at your phone. Only—

NOT FOUND ERROR 404.

You furrow your brows, trying to press on a few buttons- but the error message doesn’t leave. It glitches. Different from the meager ‘no signal’ symbol that’d been there earlier. And the crashed page is all you can see once more.

NOT FOUND ERROR 404.

NOT FOUND ERROR 404.

NOT FOUND ERROR 404.

.

.

.

The error message lasts until your walk in the gardens.

The error message lasts all the way until after lunch. After dinner.

It was in the dead of your third night here, under the veil of darkness, when you finally manage to find a signal. 

Despite your phone having crashed, and despite your feet aching from your productive day, you found yourself leaning over the edge of your bedroom balcony once more. The edge of your phone reaching outwards—one bar of signal obtained.

You breathe out in relief, falling back onto the heels of your feet. The wind was whipping in spirals around you, creating a cloud of your nightdress to billow. Soft silk. Feeling like the touch of a hand.

You look at the phone screen that had finally stopped flashing that error sign, and eagerly tap towards the phone app. Only—

Your phone vibrates with a call.

Confused at the Unknown number, you wonder whether this might be someone from home that’s been worried about your whereabouts. And so you don’t question it much when you slide the blaring bar and answer the call. “Hello?”

No one answers.

You repeat, “Hello? Can you hear me?” 

No one answers.

Perhaps it was the wind that was making you hard to hear? You turn away from the gales slightly, careful not to lose the humble signal that you have. And you press your phone harder against your face. “Hello? Who’s this-”

No one answers.

But that’s when you hear it: heavy breathing. 

Low and labored. Like someone had just run a mile and immediately picked up the phone, somehow dialing your number.

“Is this some sort of prank?” You hiss, “Because it isn’t funny. Who is this?”

No one answers.

Heavy breathing.

“Answer me-”

No one answers.

Heavy breathing.

“Hello?”

No one answers.

Heavy breathing.

“Answer me-”

There’s a sharp tone as the phone ends, whether by you or whoever was on the other end of the line you’re not quite sure.

Heavy breathing.

This time, not from the phone.

You whirl around with a gasp—the curtains gust out at a sudden wind. And there’s no one behind you - there’s no sound of breathing behind you, either. But you’re sure you’d heard it before. You’re sure.

Lightning flashes in the distance. 

There’s the rumble of thunder that almost sounds like laughter- in fact, you’re sure that if you let your ears keenly listen in, it was laughter. Masculine and deep. Echoing into the distance, like it was someone surrounding you.

With your phone clutched to your thundering chest, you’re quickly walking to the safety of your bedroom inside. And you decide to lock every window that night.

You couldn’t sleep.

.

.

.

The day after that - your third day in the mansion now, your fourth night - there was still no sign of the car mechanic. You’d taken to sleeping during the day, lounged upon an intricately woven love seat that was inside your chambers.

Of course, Nanami hadn’t questioned a thing.

He was as warm and welcoming as ever, of course. Always so efficient getting you the things you needed, helping you get ready, and cooking your favorite foods - almost too efficient. Any time you looked at him, he never seemed to have a hair out of place, despite being embroiled in the toughest of domestic tasks (he took offense any time you offered to pull your own weight until the mechanic arrived).

Practically perfect.

Almost unnatural. 

You wondered how he had the time to do it all…

And that foggy night, you tossed and turned amongst the sea of expensive silken blankets. Ultimately, as the clock struck 2AM and you still found yourself unable to sleep, you got off the side of the mattress and walked. To the candelabra on the cabinet. And then outside.

With no fixed aim nor destination, your feet took you down one of the paths you’d explored during your days here. Though, you had the faintest feeling that even if you hadn’t explored- you’d have known your way around here. Past unwilted flowers and paintings that seemed to stare you down as you passed. And soon enough, you were standing in front of the great double doors of the library.

One of them, at least.

Nanami had told you that the mansion boasted about five massive libraries, filled to the brim with books across all ages and authors. And the smell of pages and put-out fires greet your senses when you enter, your slippers thudding across the cold stone floor.

The ceiling was high, almost never-ending.

And from above peered severe gargoyles, their wings outstretched, and their mouths mid-scream as if to warn you not to take a step closer. You wrapped your arms around your body and shivered, looking up at the high shelves.

With one hand craned out, you trace your fingers down their thick spines. Not a speck of dust on them.

Until, finally, the hairs at the back of your neck seem to raise–

You look behind you.

Nothing.

It was dark in the library, the sole source of light being the paper-thin moonlight that filtered in through the windows. Casting an almost eerie glow on everything it’s spindly fingers touched. 

Though, you still don’t think you would be able to sleep if you headed back to your bedroom right now. And you curiously read the book spines where you stopped walking (it was too dark to make them out properly, yet you still take a few of them with you, in hopes of a distraction).

You sit down at the nearest wooden table, and the singular candle holder in the middle of it flickers to life. As if awakened by your presence.

You really wondered what this mechanism must be - you made a mental note to ask Nanami tomorrow. And in the glow, you could now see what books you’d actually picked up.

Baker’s Book (1901)

Sebastian’s Book on How to Keep the House Warm

Pride and Prejudice

A Historical Analysis of the Nanami Mansions

That one was struck through, its scabrous leather cover torn as if someone had ripped through it with a knife. You squinted as you tried to read through the title, to no avail.

Of Demons and Servitude: The Hellish Agelong Contracts That Surpass Love

That last one seemed a little out of place amongst the rest- well. You took a look around. Perhaps it wasn’t that out of place.

And in the dancing candlelight, you open the first book and begin to read.

.

.

.

You’d fallen asleep there.

Somewhere midway through a paragraph about how this very mansion had no official founder, and how it had been handed to the first owner by chance; thus, resulting in its descent into discourse over ownership (with masters who, surprisingly, rather than fighting for it had been fighting not to have it), and how the whereabouts of the last master was unknown.

You dreamt of contracts and haggling masters and packed bags and demons. The red, red eyes of a demon that watched from the shadows.

As much a part of the mansion as the mansion was part of him.

And you swear that in the depths of your slumber, you felt cold, cold hands graze your skin. Your cheek. Your arms. With his pointed fingernails that were meant to kill.

A candle snuffs out.

You woke up and it was morning, and someone had draped a blanket over you.

.

.

.

Nanami had noticed that you were becoming more and more engulfed in your books. After several more tries to reach a phone signal had failed, you’d resigned yourself to merely waiting for the mechanic to get to you.

He informed you that the road clean up seemed to have been taking longer than usual, given the constant downpour the land was experiencing. And you understood.

After all, you weren’t lacking for anything here at all. Nanami made sure of that.

You’d moved on from the mysterious, and half-recorded, history of the mansion. Somehow more interesting than you might have imagined. On towards the baking book, the novel, even the domestic book.

Until the only thing left out of the book you’d picked was the eerie one about demons. Though you could easily go back and choose another, you weren’t a quitter!

And so you found yourself flipping through its pages, all the while watched over by a silent Nanami.

You begrudgingly admitted that the book had you enraptured. And soon enough, you were drinking in all there was to drink about the rituals it took to summon said demons, the way they could take on the most exquisite appearances, and even a few ‘real life’ recounts of people who’ve encountered them.

“Look at this one, Nanami.” You pointed somewhere on the page, and he leaned over your shoulder kindly to follow your finger. “The person saying they saw a demon here is from this very town, hah! What a coincidence.”

He smiles, “What a coincidence indeed, my lady.”

“Just imagine- meeting a demon. I wonder what it would be like- I’d probably get my soul stolen in an instant.”

“Demons steal souls only after they’ve bound a human in a contract, my lady. Though other methods of payments for a demon’s services can manifest themselves in the form of blood, flesh, sex. They thirst for those things, demons. Going without is almost worse than death- of course, a demon can’t die.” At your slightly stunned silence, Nanami cocks his head. “Chapter sixteen, the ways of the body.”

“R-right.” You start, “Sorry, I just didn’t think you’d be the type to be into such things.”

He bears a secret smile. A secret, secret smile. “There is much that you don’t know of me, my lady.” Nanami spreads butter on a piece of toast without you even asking to, and places it gently down on your plate. “But of course, there is much time to find out.”

.

.

.

It’s by your sixth day that Nanami finally knocks at your bedroom door, deep into the evening. And he informs you that-

“The mechanic shall be here in a few hours, my lady.” You look outside through your window, at the blue and gold night. And of course he notices that little action - he notices everything. “I may have had a hand in the somewhat ah- untimely manner of things. You see, I had pressured him into coming as soon as possible, and it seems that the roads have only just cleared.”

“Oh, I see.” You reply, “I expect I should go down to wait for him in a bit, then.”

“If you so wish, my lady.”

After dinner, you took your demon book with you and paced the halls of the mansion. Just waiting. It was a few hours past when the mechanic was supposed to come, and you could feel yourself getting antsy. No matter how many times Nanami told you the mechanic would be here soon, and that he would take care of it all.

Nonetheless, when you found the corridors thoroughly trodden, you stepped outside. It was a clear night out, and you sat on the porch with your book in your lap.

Reading through the passages in the dim twilight as you waited.

You were on the final chapter now.

“Chapter 22: Fables From the Shadows - Nanami Mansion.

Hearken, o’ mortal. In another story from the deep, the darkness, I entrust your ears with the legend of the Nanami mansion.

Hundred of years old. It stands still, braving the storms and the times, a relic of a past that never changes. And shall never change. Not as long as the mansion is haunted by the ghosts of its past, they say that the very walls of the house are infused with a force unknown.

Or so they say.

No mortal soul can say with utmost certainty when the mansion was built, nor by who, nor for what purpose. Only that the line of its masters has been both gruesome and bloody; history claims that what had once been impassioned family feuds over ownership quickly turned into a family heirloom that no pawn shop would accept.

No soul wished to be the master of a demon.”

A twig snaps.

And you gasp, looking up- though there was no one there. The light that flooded in from the mansion revealed no one outside, and so, shaking, you kept on reading.

The mechanic still wasn’t here.

“Yes, o’ mortal. It is true.

Though one cannot say for certain the dark forces that envelop the house, it is what resides inside that is sure to catch the interest of a demonologist such as you and I.

A demon.

They say that he - or, at least, he who takes the shape of a man - runs the household as if its masters still occupy its decadent bones. As if its masters weren’t taken by the very force that now cleans the windows, and grows pretty flowers in the mansion’s garden. As if its masters still live.

Still linger.

But do not be fooled, dear reader, the only thing that lingers in this household is the demon himself. His smile gentle. His face kindly. It would not be out of the realm of possibility that those of mortal desires, like us, are disarmed by the handsome face he uses to mask his bloodthirst. And he has snuffed the mansion of anything that makes this house a home.”

Someone was watching you.

Somehow, it didn’t feel human.

“One by one, it started with the other servants, centuries ago. Those who were lucky to flee their posts and tell the tale spoke of a shadow that haunted their every waking moment, of a fleeting presence that produced nail marks in the morning, or items in their chambers suddenly unravelled.

He was the model worker, unsusceptible.

And by the time the masters of the household realized, it was far too late for their mortal souls. The servants had disappeared, the livestock had fallen to plague, and the only residents of the mansion were them. And him.”

Someone was waiting.

You knew it didn’t feel human.

“There need not be much speculation on the fates of the owners in the house at the time, after which there was a scramble to pawn the mansion by living relatives.

Though, by that point, rumors of the mansion’s more supernatural occurrences were already beginning to fester, and the effort was futile. 

And though the mansion stands lonely now, never think that it is abandoned, o’ mortal. Perhaps you shall find that the chandeliers are always lit, and the beds are made. Dinners at the mansion are lavish and a-plenty. All of this can be given credit to the demon that runs it, of course.”

You stand up.

The mechanic was countless hours past when he was supposed to come, and you guessed he wouldn’t be making it today, either. Perhaps something more urgent had come up. Your feet step backwards- but something stops you, as if an invisible force. And without taking your eyes away from the page, you step forwards.

“Why this ancient creature torments the mortals that reside in the mansion, yet takes such meticulous care of it is a question unanswered to us. Perhaps we may never know.

Though some whispers claim that the rightful owner isn’t any lord or ladyship or bastard heir. No, not at all. It is - and brace yourselves for this, dear reader - none other than the demon himself.”

Forwards.

“Of course, this is only one theory put forth by demonologists. But as the rightful heir to the estate, the demon takes his time finishing off the foolish mortals that believe that it is theirs to claim. When, in actuality, you are stepping into the very abode of the creature. And no one - no one - has lasted longer than six days in its abode.

A creature that cannot ache. A creature that cannot love.”

Forwards. 

“And he will always have his door open to the ignorant that walk in. Into what one may think is a heaven named after his very self.”

You stop.

“Nanami Kento, of the Nanami Mansions.”

The book drops from your hands.

A scream in your throat, you’re realizing that you’d walked yourself - almost in a trance - right up to the shrub-covered door to the basement. The very same one that Nanami had nudged you away from last time.

Nanami…a shiver runs down your spine. You don’t know what to think.

Almost as if it will provide you the answers, you reach out and twist the basement door handle. It creaks out in agony as it opens, and you almost have half the mind to run away right then, right now.

But you’re no quitter. 

In nothing but the pale moonlight, you step inside the basement and make your way down its narrow stairway. They were made of metal, biting through the soles of your slips with each step. You’re squinting your eyes in the darkness, hands reached out in front of you like you’d find something.

And then—

And then, right as you reach the landing of the staircase, you step in something wet.

It almost felt like a puddle after rain. Though the liquid stuck to your slippers, thicker than that. And as you raised your feet, it created a hollow squelch; the viscous sap looked much darker than water was supposed to be.

You gasp. It can’t be-

Lightning strikes.

Just a snapshot of light. Like someone had taken a photograph and burned it into your retinas.

In that split-second, you saw that what you’d thought was a puddle of water wasn’t really water at all. It was red. It was thick.

And it was leading a pathway all the way down to a body in the middle of the basement.

Two-toned hair bled red. Eyes pure white.

The mechanic lay dead on the basement floor. For how long, you weren’t quite sure.

With a scream, you almost slip on the blood as you sprint upstairs. Running out into the pouring rain outside - if you’d been guided in a daze to the massacre, then your brain was working in overdrive to guide you out. 

Slippers squelching. Eyes stinging with rain. You couldn’t even see where you were going, and it reminded you of the night you arrived here.

Yet, you’ll always find the mansion - always. And in almost no time (though it felt like eons to your poor, shivering body), you’re running inside the mansion and slamming! the front door shut.

Body pushed against the door. Lungs heaving. You gulp.

With your eyes downturned, your watch the rich carpet beneath your feet drench with beads of water. Rusted water. Blood.

Fuck. 

You had to get out of here right now. 

Just as soon as the thought has struck your brain, the candles go out. Every. Single. One of them. Startled, you’re whipping around and trying to open the door- bang! bang! bang! It only rattles underneath your hands, firmly shut with unseen bolts and padlocks that you wouldn’t have been able to open no matter what.

And it’s only with the thin glow of the moonlight that you can move your urgent body, one step after the other. Jerky, as if you have to force yourself to do it.

As if you have to fight against some outside force to do so.

You knew that no matter where you went inside the mansion, Nanami would be able to find you. What if you—the balcony.

You gasp, and try to tamper the thought down as swiftly as it had formed. 

Without a second of lingering any further, your feet dart you up the sprawling staircase. Spirals. Heart thundering, feet thudding, and your gasps laborious as you ran towards the bedroom that he had oh-so-graciously given to you.

Footsteps.

Slow.

Steady.

The complete opposite of your own, follow you the closer you get to it. Seeing that gleaming wooden door wink at you from the end of the hallway, like an old friend.

Until, finally, you’re throwing open the door and running inside-

“My lady.”

You howl in terror and it’s swallowed up by the sudden crashing of the storm outside. You hadn’t just raced into your room- you’d ended up bumping into none other than Nanami Kento’s firm, toned chest.

Carefully looping his arms around you.

“You’re-” You hiss, stepping backwards. “You’re a-”

“Yes.”

And then suddenly he’s behind you. Caging you inside the room, with no possibility of running back where you’d come from. 

He looms, larger than life. His shadow walking inside- “I can’t believe you’re a-” You stagger backwards, “So all this time-”

“All this time.” Nanami breathes out, even though you knew that his lungs didn’t need to work. Then he grins and oh- it’s the one thing that you could see completely clearly in the dimness of the night: his stark-white fangs, those crimson eyes, pupils like a snake’s. 

They bore down at you, especially when your limp legs stumble- and Nanami’s right there to steady you. With his inhumanly strong arms capturing your waist, and his chest pressed to yours. 

Oh. 

That low voice of his buries deep within your eardrums, sensual. “And I’ve been waiting…” He practically purrs, and your thighs clench. “-so, so long for you, my lady.”

You feel shivers go down your spine when Nanami nuzzles his nose against your throat, “A- a long time- so you mean that-”

“Yes.”

“Am I an descendant to the owner of this house-”

“Yes.” He sighs out his answers, like it took everything in him. Like he was breathing life into you. And you can’t help but notice that the two of you have edged towards the bed now, and you slightly turn your head to look at the mirror on the wall. “And you don’t know how starved I have been, my lady.”

Only to find that Nanami’s reflection didn’t show up on it.

It looked as if you were standing by yourself, and the blond-haired man (demon, more like) only holds you tighter in response. He murmurs in your ear, “Though enlightening, that book of yours doesn’t hold much truth.”

“It doesn’t?”

“Well-” His fangs glint, “-it does.”

You shiver. Not only with coldness, not only with fear.

Something more akin to a carnal need, with him pressed up against you like this.

“Though, it was wrong about two things-” Nanami’s plump lips graze down the column of your throat, and you wonder whether he can sense the way you grow…wet. “-a demon can yearn, a demon can love.”

Oh. 

One of his overlarge hands drag down your spine, fiddling with the ties of a dress that he’d tailored to your exact size. Perhaps centuries ago.

“And this demon has been waiting for centuries for your soul to return, my lady.”

Your arms tighten on his shoulders, and tender slip up to loop around his neck. “I’m here, Kento.” Your body is boneless in his hold, and he holds you to him like he wants you to be of one soul.

.

.

.

There’s a sodden squeeeeelch as he’s lightly tuggin’ those cute panties of yours aside- how could you even walk around with something so sweet on you?

Nanami feels his oh-so-famished tastebuds start to water at the sight of your pretty, pretty cunt. Just a thin line of drool makin’ its way down the side of his stern lips, mirroring the way that your tight hole was weeping out.

He rubs his glove-clad thumb down the front of your glistening folds, and you whimper at the scratch of its smooth texture. “Have you ever done something like this before, my lady?”

With a mewl, you nod. 

And you can’t help but notice the way that Nanami’s jaw clenches. “I see.” And there’s an inkling of something dark in his tone that you can’t quite pinpoint right now, roverin’ his mean fingerpads just over where your poor clit was. “And, forgive me if this is too forward, but have you ever fully enjoyed something like this before, my lady?”

“Well-” You try to keep your tone even, bucking off the bed. You were all sprawled out with only your drenched panties on, and Nanami Kento was on his knees by the foot of the bed.

On his knees for you.

His lips twitched impatiently, a sort of hunger in his eyes the longer he had to watch your needy pussy cling onto nothing. Continuing, “Well, I’ve liked it before with other people but-”

“Yes, my lady?”

And as you finish off, you slightly duck your head in shame. Whispering the words out (though you knew he’d hear with his demonic senses anyways). “But none of them have ever made me…cum before. I can reach it by myself but with other people- you know.”

“I understand.” You peer up to see the way that Nanami stares kindly at you. Something understanding in his eyes. Something…primal.

And your cunt starts to throb even more once he reaches his dominant right hand up to his mouth, then proceeding to bite down on the edge of his glove, and pull it off with his tongue. So unintentionally attractive. “Then, kindly allow me.”

In a split-second, his thick fingertip is probin’ between your pussylips.

Feeling the hotness of you clenching ‘round him and he groans- “You’re so ready for me, aren’t you, madam?” Just the slightest hitch in his tone as he’s then sinking in with a slooooooppy slurp. The kind that leaves your ears ringing and your mouth dropping with each scouring inch he eases in.

Your eyes roll to the back of your skull at the feeling of his tender girth poking your insides. “O-oh my god.” Bucking your hips even deeper into his touch- “How does it feel so good already?”

“Oh, is that so–?” Nanami’s blond lashes flutter in amusement, “But you haven’t felt anything yet, my lady. Won’t you just raise your hips for me-” He guides you, and you’re squirming down his lengthy digits. “-yes, yes. Just like that, keep taking it all, alright?”

“I am I am-” Sobbing.

And you don’t know where you’re bawling more from - your swollen lips on your face, or the ones down below. The ones that he was striking viciously with his mountainous knuckles, every time he thrusted to let the long, solid inches of his finger delve inside.

Inside and inside.

Pushin’ in- he was just so eager to plunge himself inside.

Until the very forefront of his knuckles smacked your pussylips, and Nanami’s ruthlessly pressing his ring finger against your outer cunt. Smooch-smooch-smooching the very round tip of his ring finger against your pulsing clit, until he’s trying to fit that inside, too.

“Easy does it.” Nanami hisses, blond brows furrowing. Beads of sweat start decorating his forehead as he concentrates. “Easy- eeeeeasy. You can take it, my lady.”

And if you thought that the stretch of one of his fingers was enough to drive you wild, then you weren’t ready for two. “Oh my- fuck. You’re so mean.” You whine, holding onto his other gloved hand. Nanami has his fingers romantically intertwined with yours, and you were just clawing at his wrist there. 

The demon raises a brow - devilish. “Would you like me to stop?”

“No!” You rush to blurt out, your hips startin’ to gyrate. It took you a few vulgar strokes to get used to the size of him stretchin’ out your tiniest hidden nooks and crannies open - you swear that Nanami’s fingers were larger than normal. Scouring oh-so-deeply inside. “No no no- keep going. Ngh, you’re a-almost there.”

“Mmm, am I?” His lip curls, “And I wonder if ah- ‘there’ would feel even better with three fingers, hm?”

“O-oh…”

“That’s all you have to say, madam?” Nanami genuinely questions, though there’s a certain waver in his voice that lets you know he was teasing you. He was making your honeyed cunt grow even wetter with how Nanami Kento, of all beings, was being mean to you.

And with a few more slashing strokes, he’s fully opened up the clingy channel of your walls- fuck, he couldn’t even reel his two fingers back without your needy pussy trying to gulp him back up again.

Then with a sudden, soaked squelch you’re feeling a third of his fingertips kiss your tight hole. Tapping just a few times before he instantly presses down on your clit and makes you gasp- “Oh, fuck.”

The perfect moment for Nanami to shove his extended digit inside. All three of them expanding and contracting, scissoring a few times to engrave the crowned edges of his fingers against your most tender spots. “There-” Nanami hisses, between clenched teeth. “There there there-”

You’re suddenly seeing white- why? 

Because on that fourth bludgeon of his, Nanami’s easily locating your g-spot to pummel.

“-you’re taking it all so well, my lady. S’like you’re made f’me…heh.” 

“Shit-” Only blubbering and panting, he’s hittin’ your favorite spot so hard that your vision starts to blue - and you don’t know whether it’s because of tears or the sheer amount of white-hot pleasure that he’s making run through your body. “Shit shit shit shit- oh. Right there, keep going, Kento.”

Yet another smack! to that gooey bundle of nerves—“Ohhh, how I love when you call me that, madam.” Hard.

Push after push after push, and he’s spreading his prying tips so open- letting the doughy edges catch on the crevices of your g-spot. Meanly caressing. 

Even though he’s speeding up, slick dripping down the sides of his overworking wrists like a faucet, you don’t think he misses that lewd target of his even a single time. Push after push after push. Dizzy with the force, you look up n’ find that Nanami’s slitted pupils were glowing.

He was using his demonic powers to perfectly angle the strikes of his fingerpads against your sweetest, sultriest spot. Stickin’ straight against your nerves, you had absolutely no chance of a breather when he was using some sort of x-ray vision to keep your pussy captive.

“Captive?” Nanami reads your thoughts, “Madam, I fear that this isn’t even- hah, half of my speed. Would you like me to accelerate?”

And he does.

And you’re feeling so much bliss at the moment that you can’t stop yourself from anchoring your feet onto the mattress and pushing off- unsure whether you wanted to help meet his cadence or run away—

“Ah ah, what an adorable feat.”

His husky baritone breaks through your hazy thoughts- and before you know it, Nanami’s free hand untangles from yours to grip the sides of your neck n’ tug you right back.

Slapping that cutely sensitive front of your pussy with his knuckles, the demon chuckles darkly as you squirm at the pleasure. “You don’t think you can run away from me, can you, my silly lady?” With a growl, he tightens his restraint on your throat and makes you wince at the lack of oxygen. “You can’t. You won’t.”

And with that, Nanami cranes his watering mouth down to kiss the insides of your thighs. Letting the syrupy-sweet sheen of your slick coat his chin, “I’ve waited for you for centuries, and I’ll wait for you centuries more. I’ll find you.” Tightening. “Don’t think of running, madam.”

“Won’t- won’t-” You squeal out, and through the blurry gaps of your vision you can see the way that Nanami’s salivating. The way that his lips edge towards your heated core, the way he looks like he’s starving the longer he stares down at your cunt. “But, Kento, I do have one request of you.”

He snaps his head up immediately, “Anything, madam.”

“Could you please, ngh-” Your lips wobble desperately as you utter, and Nanami listens enraptured to every word. “-please put your mouth on me?”

And the stern man - a demon, living for centuries, unphased as he waited for your soul to meet him again - lets his mouth drop into a heated ‘oh’ as he registers. As he lets your words throb all the way at his furious cock.

“As you wish, my lady.”

Then you’re feeling the scorching hot sensation of his breath cloud your inner thighs, slithering upwards just in time with his mouth. “As you wish-” Nanami whispers, more to himself - more like a mantra. 

“As you wish, as you wish, as you- mmm.” His mouth slips over the crevice of your cunt, and you’re feeling him perfectly slot his lips with your folds. He cracks his ravenous mouth open, “Allow me to- oh.”

Before immediately shutting himself up after the first candied taste of your cunt. 

He lets his slicked tongue squeeze inside, gulping. “F-forgive me for not finishing my sentence. What I meant was, allow me to-” You buck, shoving him nose-deep between your sultry pussylips. “-oh, fuck. Forgive me, you just have me so…”

And he can’t even finish his sentence like this.

Because every time he’s parting those stern lips of his to speak, yet another glittery wad of your slick slips between that greedy maw of his. Pooling at the back of his mouth like some puddle, he can’t fucking get enough of your sweet, sweet juices. “It’s just- the taste of you. Shit. My lady, and who has allowed you to taste this sinful?” He hums. Guttural.

“Mmm, I dunno. Maybe you should’ve found out earlier-” You say, coyly. And raise your hips up to let his strong, velvety tongue pry inside n’ out. Almost fighting his fingers for space inside.

“Maybe you should’ve appeared earli- oh, fuck.” Shit, did he love hearing your gorgeous voice in conversation. 

But if that meant breaking off his prolonged, open-mouthed kiss with your pussy then he wasn’t wasting any time. He was just slathering his maw widely agape, the flat tastebuds on top of his tongue moving back and forth and all over.

And spearheading just his honed tip inside, the crowned girth of his tongue snakes all the way to your innards. Jostling his own fingers-

You gasp when that only makes him skid his fingertips against your g-spot even further. 

“I promise, I’ll be able to finish my sentences-” Nanami seethes. “-promise I’ll be able to, just with another- mmm, just another taste-” And his tongue lavishly licks up and down your slit. “-and another- oh, maybe one more-”

Again and again.

He’s trying to control himself but he can’t.

His sizzlin’ hot tastebuds probe their way inside, before ultimately pulling out and resting against your clit. Nanami counts your throbbing pulse one-two-three-four times before he starts fucking you with it again.

All three of his digits and his tongue. Swirlin’ in dizzying patterns around and around and drawing a cute heart on top of your nub. Followed right up by his silvery initials—‘N.K.’

You’re shivering, curling the tips of your toes as the fatness of his tongue rolls over your clit. Again and again. And his fingers are just merciless- digging three slender circumferences against the side of your walls, feeling that if he could thrust even deeper to hit the side of your cervix then he would have ages ago. In fact…

“Wh-what are you-” You jump your upper half off of the springy sheets - it was as if your wet dream was coming to life. Nanami was elongating the tendrils of his fingers with supernatural powers, slipping every thorough inch even deeper. “Oh my god- ngh, now that’s just unfair-”

“And yet, I’m not the one that thought of it.” He snickers, plunging his digits further. And further and further. 

So deep, in fact, that you think you can feel his slimy, slick-glazed tips all the way near the back of your throat. Stabbing in thorough thrashes, you huff. “And yet- who’s the one that’s, mmm, pussydrunk, hm?”

“No- no no no, I’m not pussydrunk, madam.” Nanami insists, “Not at all. This is just a slight affliction that I- mmpf.”

You clench ‘round his fingers and that only makes him jerk his face even deeper- thank goodness he didn’t have to fucking breathe, because he was spending all his time swabbin’ away. Using the hand he still had on your throat, he pulls you in incredibly. “It’s not that m’pussydrunk—” Slurring his damn words. “-it’s just that…”

“Mhm—?”

You’re so wet by now that you begin to gush down his face. And Nanami didn’t have blood running through his veins, of course, but you should still feel his cheekbones burn with heat.

You’d made the centuries-old demon blush.

You’d made him gurgle on the slippery wads of your slick.

So completely pussydrunk that the thought of you realizing he was so- and taking your treacly cunt away made him glue his lips to your clit with a slight cry. A slight whimper—“D-don’t take this pretty pussy away from me.” His hand lifts off of your neck to hold onto your thighs, tugging. “Please?”

And as if to prove his point - to prove his desperation - the roverin’ tip of Nanami’s tongue moves even harder against your pussy.

Even faster.

And his scouring fingerpads probe in so deep that you throw your head back with a moan. Those wriggling tips filling up your every orifice, “Yes-” You weave your fingers into his unruly golden locks. “M’not gonna, Kento-” Gasping. “M’not gonna take myself away s-so you don’t have to- oh.”

“Thank you, my lady.” Just so rough with it. “Thank you- thank you- thank you-” 

You swear he’s bruising at the battered innards of your walls, and he’s leaving nail marks for daaaaays upon your thighs. Battling with his own lecherous fingers. Moving his lush tastebuds again and again and again-

“Thank you for lettin’ me taste such a sweet, sweet pussy, madam.” Nanami scorches out against your cunt, slobbering all down it. “Thank you for letting ‘er- ngh, cum all down my tongue.”

“C-cum?” You lift your dazed head at his pussydrunk babbling - only to find that it wasn’t just babbling, after all.

Because Nanami’s honed abilities meant that he could sense when the zapping fireworks at the pit of your stomach grew, he could fucking smell the honeyed fragrance of your cunt growing close. And, sure as day, with a few more vulgar strokes, you’re falling apart on his fingers and his mouth.

Your back arching you even closer against his nuzzlin’ nose, you cry out as your high zaps right through you. “It feels so good- oh, Kento. Oh my g-god.”

“Mmm, the opposite, my lady.” Nanami chuckles, fucking you through every peak of your high- you should have expected that he has a sixth sense for it. And with the soaring peaks of your orgasm, Nanami mazes his fingertips to directly hit your g-spot.

So good.

You’re drooling through your entire high stupidly, your eyes watering through the sensitive pangs of pleasure. Tuggin’ on Nanami’s clammy scalp to pull him in even deeper, and he was more than happy to let himself be moved. To be ridden.

Long, sloppy drag of his tongue making you arch your back. “Sh-shut up-” Mewling out, you let yourself be wrung dry of the waves of pleasure. 

“As you wish, madam.”

And he dutifully listens, there for only your euphoria. To which you respond by elongating your high by grinding down on his face—allll the way from the point of his handsome chin to the tip of his straight nose. “Shit-” You whimper, “Shit shit shit- never felt so good. Never felt like this.”

Nanami groans ‘round your clit, the vibrations sending you into a frenzy.

“M’serious-” You prattle out, your movements eventually slowing. That might just have been the best orgasm of your entire life - you were never going to be the same. “It just felt so good, Kento…wait, you’re not- ngh, done?”

He only shakes his head.

He only lets his slitherin’ tongue lap and lap at the teary crevice of your pussy.

With every lick, you’re feeling your body go into overdrive. Heat flaring. Heart racing. You absolutely thrash against the damp sheets of the bed as he continues- like you’d never even reached your high. 

Just plap after plap after plap of his knuckles against your tender outer pussy- and you start to wonder whether it doesn’t hurt for him. Whether his wrist doesn’t sting. Whether his mouth wasn’t swollen n’ rubbed raw on your drippin’ wet pussy, “Mmm, told me to shut up and make you feel good, didn’t you, madam?” You weren’t entirely sure that that was what you said, verbatim. 

Yet you’re too gone on his silvery tastebuds to bite back anything now. “Y-yes…?”

“And that’s exactly what m’doing.”

He’s overstimulating you even more. Thrusting his tongue between those sopping wet lips of yours to poke at your throbbing g-spot, you swear he’s able to elongate his wet muscle even further.

Slashing against your most tender spots-

“Sh-shit- but m’so sensitive.” Whining out, you half-heartedly attempt to tug him off of your pussy- but it was as if Nanami was plastered to your wettened lips. “I don’t even know if I can cum so soon again, Kento.”

He slightly raises his head - not enough to stop his drivelling mouth, of course - and raises a blond brow. “You don’t know, my lady?”

You shake your head.

“Well, there’s only one way to find out.”

And with that said, he’s fingering you to make a point. Staring at the writhing expressions on your face every time Nanami’s digits plunged inside, they hit the near-back of your pussy with such slurping sounds.

Hit after hit. Teasingly kissin’ against the throbbing spot of your nerves, and that’s when you can feel the fireworks start up again in the pit of your stomach once more-

And that’s when Nanami can sense it.

Smell it.

Taste it- fuck, it was as if you became even sweeter on his tongue any time you were nearing your high. And he doesn’t say a single word - doesn’t waste the time to - only thrashing and thrashing, he hits the bruised area of your g-spot and watches as you fall apart once more.

Pleasure zipping through your body.

Toes curling.

Tears were streaming down your cheeks, and your mattress was all but drenched with the moisture.

“Oh my god-” You’re all but limp by your second orgasm, letting it wrack your body mercilessly. “You were right-” Your breath hitches. “-ngh, m’cumming again, Kento. C-cumming—”

“Mmm, I know, madam.” Nanami grins, and you can feel it form against the tender folds of your pussy. Branding itself there. “I did that.”

He was mean.

You buck and you buck and you buck as he licks every crevice of your insides, and once he was done fucking you well n’ proper through your other high- the slicked tip of Nanami’s tongue slurps back in once again. As if to do it all over again.

He feels you clench ‘round him urgently, “A-again?” You ask, with a weepy tremble in your voice.

“Mmm, don’t think you can do it a third time?” Nanami gutturally groans out, “D’you wanna find- ngh, find out, hm?”

“Actually…” And he hangs onto your every word. 

Your jittery fingers intertwine with his polished hair, tugging. Continuing where you left off, “I was thinking that m’ready for something else.” He looks on in something that almost looks like disbelief - desperation. As if he couldn’t believe that these words were really spilling out of your mouth. “Wan’ your cock, Kento.”

And something in him seems to…snap.

“A-as you wish, my lady.”

He bows to you, right then and there.

In practically no time - though, to Nanami who’d been waiting for centuries, it only felt like centuries more - you’re being pushed back on the mattress until your head softly nudges the headboard. Nanami heaves himself up on the bed.

And you can’t help but notice that for someone who always looked so prim and put-together, he looked absolutely gone.

Hair sticking up in multiple angles. Eyes half-lidded and drunk. Slick dribbling down the sides of his mouth and down his prominent Adam’s apple. It drops from his fangs, which have now elongated. And lecherously down the front of his suit, which was a darker color than it usually was- drenched in heaps of your mess. In heaps of his mess. 

In quick, severe movements, Nanami takes his suit off. So fast and urgent that you can hear the whooshing sounds of the fabric attempting not to rip at the seams.

When it gets to his pants, your eyes drop down - it’s been a feast for the eyes with every layer that Nanami peeled away. First it revealed those broad, milky shoulders of his. Then it revealed his plush pecs, his ladder-like abs.

Until finally you were following the line of his sparse happy trail down to his thick, aching cock. And fuck- a few profanities leave your mouth, he was the biggest size you’ve ever seen. 

Just about nine inches (perhaps ten), with a plethora of winding veins that made it look as though he’d feel like he was twelve. A thick hilt. Ready balls. And the fat mushroom tip of his cock was glazed in a glittery topping of precum, pulsing primally as the cold air hit him. Dripping. 

“Anything you wish, my lady.”

Shivering at his serious tone of voice, you reach a hand up to your own collar-

Only to be halted in your tracks by an invisible force.

Nanami had one hand raised, his power surging. “Allow me.” He says, and with a harsh brush of his animalistic fingernails, he’s tearing your dress into shreds. Like butter under his touch. Easily falling apart. 

Your dress to your bra, they fall into tatters. And the only thing left is your slick-flooded panties that he scrapes a hand down to tear off, as well.

Before stopping- and seeming to think better of it- “Actually.” Nanami starts, “Keep them on.”

Oh, he was being filthy.

He was being mean.

And before your hazy brain can even register it, your legs are being flapped open. Kept firmly apart by two of his soft hands, feather-light, he pins them to the mattress and lets his slick cockhead slide juuuuust between your pussylips.

Back and forth, back and forth. The weight of his throbbing girth only makes you grow even wetter, and you’re gasping by the time he’s glazed himself up ‘nough to start pushing in.

“Now-” Nanami hisses, fangs grit. His heated body hunches over, and sweat beads down from his forehead to yours. The first feeling of your pussy clamping all ‘round his rock-hard length, and Nanami is a broken man. Slamming his hand down on the top of the mahogany headboard. “Now, madam, we’re gonna have to breathe, alright? Breathe with me now-”

You gasp- “Fuck- fuck, you’re so big-”

“Mhmmm—c’mon, my lady, breathe with me.” And though he was almost falling apart at the seams, he found the ability to string together coherent-enough sentences. Seething. “Breathe in. Breathe out. Breathe in–”

In and out. In and out.

Just like the way that plush, pinkish tip of his was swabbin’ repeatedly- he was pumping out half-ruts, just trying to fit himself inside your pussy.

Opening you up wiiiidely—

You try to follow along with what he says, “Fuck-” But the stretch of the first inch of his cock fitting in was incredible, he was molding his way inwards. Shaping out your snug channel, “But how am I supposed to when you feel like- hah- that-”

“Awww, difficult, hm?” Nanami coos, empathetically. You nod, all teary-eyed and pretty taking his elongated shaft that he can’t help but let himself swell just a lil’ wider. Thicker.

You’re taking this change in size with a moan.

And he ponders to himself for a few more strokes, getting used to the warmth of your cunt. Before humming like he’d just been struck with an epiphany- and soon enough, Nanami’s holding out his strong, vein-covered forearm in front of your line of vision.

Murmuring, “Then bite on it.”

Your eyes widen, “What?” But before you know it, you’re already making use of the demon’s sinful little solution - the next inch that he’s somehow mazing inside you, you’re sinking your teeth into the golden flesh of his forearm and taking it.

“Mmm, just like that.” He pants, squeeze-squeeze-squeeeezing his way past your puckered folds. The globular front of his cock kisses either side of your walls, pinpointing specks of pre everywhere his fingers had touched just moments earlier. “Take it- take it take it take it- sloooow and easy. You’re doing so well, my lady.”

Sensually, he’s managing to let your ravenous cunt swallow up his inches. 

And your sobs hitch after every stroke, it just felt like his fleshy tip was gracing your very lungs. You straddle his slim waist- tugging. “K-Kento…”

“Impatient, are we?” He raises a brow, “You have to take it easy, madam, if we want it to fit- breathe in. Breeeeathe in—”

And every time you did, he was shovelling in a few more inches. But the thing about Nanami Kento is that he made sure he tended to your every need; playfully rolling his thumb over your clit as he pumped himself into your hot core. 

Which meant that he took things slow, took things at a pace that your feverishly needy mind was being infuriated by.

Without warning (though, later on, you’re sure that he’d sensed it coming and simply let you), you lock your ankles around his hips and pull-pull-pull him in. 

And with that, his roverin’ wet shaft.

Bottoming out.

The headboard he’s holding onto cracks under the pressure.

You wanted him deep inside you. And Nanami can only respond by spitting out a line of swears that hits you in a scorching breeze, his face twisting into something of pure ecstasy. “O-oh.” Nanami’s voice stutters. Nanami’s voice cracks. “Ohhh, you shouldn’t have done that, my lady.”

And without further ado, he’s fucking you like a madman.

“Wanted to t-take it easy- you shouldn’t have done that-” He manages to spit out. Body shivering. His cock throbbing angrily right at the spongy platform of your cervix. “You r-really really…” Dazed, slightly, like his body was moving in water, he unhooks his palm from the now-splintered headboard. Then he throws those cute legs of yours over his deltoids.

Letting them lock firmly behind his sweaty neck, Nanami’s bending his ripped body doooooown. Folding you in half, too- you swear you’re hearing a few of your joints pop! 

And Nanami’s only hazily gliding his palm down your limbs, a soothing coldness overcoming them. No broken bones on his watch (even if his body was moving before his mind right now). So there’s no excuse for why you can’t bend in half for him. No excuse for why he can’t press his sticky forehead to yours and drill his hips even harder.

No excuse for the way that rotund tip of his scrapes your cervix with a rapid thud! thud! thud! The tender curve of his ballsack strikes the front of your pussy all raw—

Your mouth waters with the impact, “Y-you’re reaching in so deep, ngh.” But of course he was: he had you manhandled until the caps of your knees hit your tits.

“Mmm, just how you like it- hm?” Nanami chuckles, though there’s a certain pleading tone in his voice. Those drunken, honeypool eyes of his are boring straight into yours, and he memorizes even the slightest expressions you’re making at the massage of his puffy cock. “It feels good? Feels great? Makin’ this pussy feels so- oh, loooovely like she deserves?”

“Yes-” You’re gasping, your throat hoarse at the feeling of his zig-zagged veins that just kept intruding into your deepest hidden crevices. “Yes yes yes yes- yes-”

Somehow, he always managed to find the area that your drippin’ wet cunt needed him the most. Just straightly heading his wet tip towards that spot, and pressing a thorough smooch that made you damn near scream into his mouth.

And it’s then that a sudden thought hits you.

“Oh.”

“Oh?” Nanami echoes- fuck, you’d almost forgotten that he could read minds. And with those demonic powers of his, he was echoing out a certain cockdrunken idea that you had. “So you want to know whether I can use my extra vision to hit your g-spot with my, mmm, cock, huh?”

Restless, you nod.

“And you know what you need to- d-do to have me fulfill your wishes—right, madam?” Uttering out - stumbling though his words. 

Shit, even he was affected by the idea.

The ends of his tight fingertips shivering as you finally unfasten your mouth to ask- “C-can you please- ngh, use your powers to hit my g-spot, Kento?” And when you flutter those teary lashes of yours for effect?

Fuck, you might as well just call him a dead man (he was too far gone on your gushing cunt to register the fact that he, technically, wasn’t living).

Because with a sudden, concentrated surrender of his hips- Nanami perfectly angles the blushin’ red end of his shaft. That lil’ divot on the very end streamed out precum that made you splosh around from the inside, “Breathe in.” He rasps, thumb flitting down to press on your clit. “Breathe- out-”

“Oh- oh my–” More like you’re squealing out at the rough jab of his cockhead. The demon’s eyes activate into something glowing when he perfectly targets your needy g-spot.

Snickering. “Breathe in.”

You breathe in.

“Breathe-”

This time, he doesn’t even finish his damn sentence before letting the slit of his shaft snag your sweetest spot. You had so many cute, clingy ridges inside that he loves to stretch out with his sheer girth- and one of them was right by your g-spot that Nanami just kept rubbing and rubbing and rubbing all over.

Wadding out a mess of his precum until your walls likely looked like cobwebs from the inside- “You don’t know what you’re- hah, doing t’me, little mortal.” The fatness of his thumb rolls over your clit, making you see stars. “Have no idea. No- oh, have n-no idea.”

His free hand holds your quivering jaw, turning your face up to look at him and only him.

“You’ve made a demon fall in love with you, my lady. Tut tut.”

You’re squirming in his hold- he was losing control over his body. Unraveling at the seams. Rutting like an animal. Even the smooches of his hardened cock left your insides all bruised n’ battered, swat-swat-swat.

“And not only that—” Nanami continues, in his slightly breathy tone. You half-wondered whether he even knew what he was babbling away- “Oh- not quite, madam. I do apologize.” He answers your unspoken question.

Your breath catches - so he was pussydrunk enough to simply be prattling away. Unthinking.

The spit-slicked edges of his mouth gluing against yours, his tone was absolutely shattered as he mutters into your open maw. “But you’ve made me fall in love with your- your pussy, too.”

As if in response, your dampened cunt lets out some of the most lecherous noises. And you huff out a teasing giggle, “You’re talking as if this is your- mmm, first time, Kento—”

But Nanami doesn’t laugh.

Nanami doesn’t do anything but look at you so-very-seriously.

“W-wait-” Realization starts dawning on you, and you can feel your heartbeaten quicken as it sets in. “Don’t tell me…it really is your first time.” He grins…and nods. “And earlier with your mouth, too- was that-”

“But of course, madam.” The demon breathes, thoroughly ruined on your sweet, sweet pussy. “I did say that I have been waiting- mmm, centuries for you, no?”

Oh, shit.

If this was what he was like when he was inexperienced, then you almost feared to wonder just how good he’d be when he was experienced - with none other than you, you’re imagining. And as if to prove his point, he plunges and plunges his thickened shaft into you.

The plump circumference of his tip fitting against where he was causing your g-spot to indent—hollowing out with his rotund end.

In time with each of his thrusts, Nanami’s fingers pinch your perky clit. You were throbbing with need for him, and his mean thumb drew out so many things right on top of where you were most sensitive.

Swirls n’ hearts n’ his initials.

You could feel the branding of his name stinging against your core, each movement of his fingerpads creating the sloppiest slurps. “Oh, please-” Whimpering, you rut against his glissading abs. “Please please please please-”

“You can’t just say ‘please’ with no- mmm, command.” He chuckles to himself, as if you were the cutest thing in the world. “You have to tell me what you want. Your wish is my command.”

“I want you…”

“Yes—?”

And to utter these very words, you’re dragging him in closer. Touch burning. His breath laborious. You’re pulling Nanami in reeeeeal close and letting his straight nosebridge graze yours, lips tenderly touching yours. “Will you be cumming inside, Kento?”

He nuzzles the crook of your neck, “I shall do so as you wish. But first, don’t you know that you must give a demon permission to- take- a part of you?”

“So you can’t cum inside until I say the word?” You blink, a strange zap of power running through your body.

“That is so, madam.”

And oh- he’s pounding you into the aged bedsprings like he was trying to pound the words out of you. Thumb becoming frenzied on your clit, simply driving you wild. “I see- I- oh, ngh- I see-” A smirk stretches your lips, “And do you want to cum inside, Kento?”

“Not if you don’t wish for me to-” But just then, your cutely heart-shaped insides clench—and Nanami’s cutting himself off with a few rough swears. “Oh, f-fuck- yes.”

As you try to catch your breath, he’s completely losing his.

Again and again and again.

The lines of his veins throb n’ plaster against every ridge inside your velvety walls- “Yes, I do-” From the back of his throat, constant groans wrench. “I do I do I- do-” And each one was punctuated with the most probing jackhammers of his. “Oh, how badly I want to cum inside you.”

Before you can respond, his free hand drags down the front of your stomach. And he rests it easily where that lil’ bulge of his cockhead was thudding into your cervix.

“I need it. I desire it- I desire to stuff you full of my cum right h-here.” And then he presses down to put force on where his cylindrical length was tunneling. “I desire to see you all swollen with my seed, having taken so much that it has no place to go other than to drip onto the sheets.”

You’re squealing, feeling the world spin around you. “Oh- fuck. Please, m’not gonna last long-”

“I desire to feel every wad of cum of mine as I fuck you.” He gruffs out, “I desire to bind you to me forever-” Nanami leans in closer, as if he was whispering a secret to you. “-to let myself be truly yours. For eternity, this time.”

Sounding so pained.

“Let me cum inside, my lady-” He begs now. “I-inside. Let me cum inside, let me cum inside- please.”

“Yes- yes, I want it.” You crash your lips against his, feeling his fangs nip against your lower lip. “You can cum inside, Kento.”

And then with a final few thrusts, you’re exploding into your high.

So powerful that it results in your eyes clenching shut, white behind your vision. Back arching into his chest. You could hear the thundering of your pulse in your eardrums, right along with the husky, attractive groan of your name that Nanami lets off before he, too, finishes.

And you’re feeling it before you’re registering it.

That sultry splash! of something hot and wadded hitting the back of your pussy. It trickles all the way in lines down your cervix, and then ends up overflowing in your snug channel. 

“Oh- oh, you’re really taking it.” Nanami’s hand presses down on your front, eyes activating. “Look at you—swallowing up every single drop. This pretty pussy of yours was- ngh, hungry, hm?”

“Shit, you’re so filthy.” You whine, clawing down his muscular back. And Nanami Kento only smiles like he knew it was true.

After all, he was feeling everything that he’d described earlier - the sploshing of webbed-up seed inside you, the way it glissaded down his shaft. Every line of his veins was coated in ivory sap, and the demon was fucking in each gluey wad inside you.

Your own high is overtaken by his - and you don’t know what else you expected: Nanami was cumming like he hadn’t in centuries.

Just bucketloads of cum that left your mind all stupidly hazy. With each quiver of your own pleasure, you could feel the clingy mess slipping out of your hole. It created this intricate white ring ‘round Nanami’s hilt that he’s thumbing away with a smile.

Pushing dooooooown- “S’taken.” Nanami breathes, somewhat in awe as he gazed down adoringly at where your womb was. With those powerful eyes of his. “Fuck yes, s’taken, my lady. I’m so proud of you.”

“You mean…?”

“Yes.”

“F-fuck.”

He watches as that white hot mess dribbles down his fingerpads, and he says—“Stick out your tongue, madam?”

Slightly befuddled in the aftermath of your high - nothing more than a few sensitive twinges at the pit of your stomach by now, oh, he’d dragged it out so perfectly with his ready cock - you do as he says. And in a few sultry seconds, Nanami has his cum-glazed thumb sticking in his own mouth. Said mouth of his edging even closer to yours to spit.

And then he kisses you fully.

You moan, shocked by his sinful, sinful antics.

And it’s only then that you start to feel a strange rush go down your skin. It’s only then that you feel atoms stop in attention around your body, where yours met his.

So caught up in the feeling, you barely even notice when Nanami finishes riding out his own high. Each n’ every ounce of his sap pushed thoroughly into your deepest innards. And he was so proud of it- no, you’re too caught up in the fact that you knew that.

In that fact that you knew he was proud.

You could sense it.

You could remember it: fragments of a time spent in this very mansion, that didn’t include the last few days. A flourishing garden where you stole kisses. Pale blond hair in the darkness of this very bedroom. The screams of the scullery as they found out. Blood. A new life. You remembered it - not all, it came to you slowly.

With a gasp, you’re pulling back to look at your hands; they looked as normal as always, except for a strange tingle of…something that left you feeling like you could smash this very bed frame if you tried to.

Wait- you turn your head to the mirror on the wall, only to find that…nothing was there. Nothing but the room, in all its emptiness.

For mirrors don’t reflect demons.

“You’ve made me a-” You gulp, and he purrs in affirmation. “-a demon.”

“I’ve contracted us for life, my lady.” Nanami responds, “Look here.”

He taps his index down on the spot where his palm had been plastered mere moments ago, where he was feeling for his cum sprayin’ out into your womb. And as you look down, you can see that your skin was emblazoned with a glowing purple mark of supernatural sorts. Swirling spirals and hearts: you were branded.

“And here.”

You raise your eyes to where Nanami had stuck his tongue out now- and there it was. A matching tattoo (symbol? Branding?) that matched the one you had, right in the middle of his tastebuds.

Two peas in a pod.

Two demons in a mansion.

You could feel the exact moment that Nanami’s cock throbbed at the fact that you were growing even wetter at the notion - a soul that was formerly yours, shared now, for eternity. And you’d spend it all with this handsome man, in a mansion that would never crumble.

“I can smell it on you—” Nanami snarls, canines showing as his lips twist into a feral snarl. He gives another squelching thrust, “We’re going to have a looooong few centuries to make up for, my lady. Mistress of the house.”

.

.

.

“Chapter 22: Fables From the Shadows - Nanami Mansion. (Cont’d)

And yet, the tale of the scorned heir is only one theory seeking to explain the existence of this deeply demonic yet tragic figure of Nanami Kento.

I think you will find, dear reader, that this author in particular is quite inclined to believe a much lesser-known theory. It is one slightly less blood-curdling, though with no less a flare of drama: the theory of the scorned lover.

Though most records of interviews with the original servants that served the Nanami Mansions have been lost to time, what few have been procured did speak of what has been aforementioned in this chapter. Yet, it is in the footnotes that the most jarring pieces of information start to reveal themselves.

They speak of a rather different character to the demon, Nanami Kento. A demonic yet agreeable character: sharp, sensible, no less human (or at least acted so) than the other humans that it worked alongside, keeping the mansion shining like a crown jewel.

And perhaps most representative of the demon’s humanity of all, was the way in which he fell - and quite hopelessly, it is said by one worker - for the daughter of the mansion’s master. Her name— And her wits, her laugh, her kindness seemed to have enraptured this demon. And it makes us think that, perhaps, even the most hellish creatures of all are asinine in the face of love.

Love makes a fool of us all.

And yet, there is a reason that demons do not fall in love.

For once this secret dalliance was discovered by the household, it is said that the master was enraged - till one could not tell the difference between human and demon. In the owner’s fitful anger, some say that the dishonored daughter was made a sacrifice of, others justify that she was discarded from the mansion, never to be seen again.

Whatever the result of misplaced love (perhaps it was not misplaced, after all, who are we, as mortals, to judge?), the demon had lost her.

And that loss manifested into grief, that grief manifested into anger. The once-proud stone pathway to the Nanami Mansions painted itself red, and it has not had a master since.

They say that Nanami Kento still roams the empty halls, and keeps the house a home, in wait of his lost lover. 

As for the fate of them, only time will tell. 

Do you believe in reincarnation, o’ mortal? For, demons certainly do. And if a soulless being could not love a mortal centuries ago, perhaps there is hope that her soul may find him once more. Whether by accident, or by chance, or by fate altogether. Demons always are quite stubborn.

And perhaps, this time, they may love one another as two souls who have ever loved one another should. As one. 

This author, in particular, chooses to believe that their souls are already one. For there is a home for every lost soul, doors and arms wide open.”

—Of Demons and Servitude: The Hellish Agelong Contracts That Surpass Love by Sebastian Michaelis.

A/N. Was technically supposed to be posted last month but ah-