winter ⋆⁺₊❅.

- When you had insisted on him staying at your place, looking up at him with that wide smile and those puppy eyes, this was never what he had envisioned. But was he currently complaining? Never. The view he had on you right now was just… to die for. All bare and laid out below him, your legs tightly holding onto his waist as he cock hit the deepest parts of your little cunt. Your make-up completely smudged and ruined from the tears still flowing down your cheeks, not from sadness nor pain. But from the pure bliss you were currently experienced, too fucked out to care. If there was one thing Emre could do well and be proud about, it was his goddamn experience in bed, and his bigger than necessary dick. - “Emre please! We barely get to spend time together because of how busy you are!” You had taken hold of his hand, begging him to spend the weekend. He might of made a mistake not being completely honest with you about his line of work within Talon. Hell you didn’t even know he was actually a part of Talon and he wanted to keep it that way. Well you did know of Chernobog, considering it was kind of hard to miss the giant moving eye on his chest, but even for that he had a cover up story. In his words ‘It’s just a highly advanced AI that powers me.’ oh how naive you were for believing it. “We could watch some movies, bake yummy treats and of course hold a little spa day! What do you say baby?” 

Oh dear, how could he ever disappoint you, especially when you gave him that wide smile and excitement. “Well… I suppose it wouldn’t hurt to take a few days off…” He chuckled, pulling you into a hug. Vendetta had not been happy with his request, questioning him. Why would he want a week off? Where was he going, with who was he going? He did not want to bring his little girlfriend's name up so he just tried to reason with her. In the end I guess she was either feeling remorseful or just didn’t care enough. “Fine, but only 5 days. We cannot allow too many distractions and I guess you have been performing more than fine on your recent missions.” - So after arriving at your place, hanging around and eating your finest cooking he was already feeling more relaxed than ever. Which was a rare sight, considering he was always plagued by memories he couldn’t quite catch onto. Even the AI on his chest seemed to be quiet, not bothering its host like usually.

So how did both of you end up like this now? “Em-Emre!” She breathed out, hands gripping onto the mattress. His eyebrows were tightly furrowed, his teeth grit as he pounded into you, using you as some sort of personal stress relief. The sounds were nothing less of absolute sin. His groans, her whimpers and moans combined with the continuous skin clapping. No he needed to feel you deeper, closer. He needed more, he wanted more and whatever he wanted he would have. He pulled himself out of her cunt, her eyes quickly opening, letting out a needy whine. Her cunt clenching around nothing, needing this emptiness to be filled once more. “W-why did you stop..” She mumbled, looking up at him through her lashes. “Need to feel you closer, this isn’t enough.” He almost growled. His mouth attacked hers, biting and sucking her lower lip before his tongue darted out into her mouth. One of his hands groped her breast, feeling the soft skin between his fingers. Her moans were lost in their kiss. Finally both of them separated as his hands gripped onto her waist, manhandling her as he pleased. Flipping her onto her stomach, one of his hands held her down by the neck as the other lifted her ass into the air. “You look so fucking good under me Aşkım”   Finally he sunk back into her in one go, the fat tip of his cock kissing her cervix. The sheets under her were smothered in her saliva and make-up, but neither of them cared. All she cared about was the way her stomach was knotting up, this feeling of euphoria slowly gathering in her mind. Emre tried but failed miserably to keep himself quiet, his pace only growing more relentless and quick. 

He could feel parts of himself shutting out, like he was losing grip on himself, all he could possibly think of right now was the feeling of her warm cunt squeezing him of everything he was worth. The eye on his chest was moving rapidly, something it hadn’t done before. He didn’t even notice the way the tips of his fingers started turning dark with a hint of orange. (Name) turned her head, wanting to look up at him but that was when she noticed the change in his fingers, and then her eye caught the way he just seemed so… out of it? “Em- Emre!” She tried to alert him, but the way his cock was continuously slamming into her made it extremely difficult. It was like he didn’t even hear her, not with the way his arms suddenly hooked under her arms and pulled her up into his chest. He was still thrusting into her and her head flew back against his shoulder. “Em-Emr- Y- Fuck! Coming!” She couldn’t even yell out her sentence with the rapid approaching orgasm. Cunt spasming and squeezing around him painfully tight as she finally came, juices spewing out of whatever crack they could. That seemed to be the last straw as Emre yelled out, his eyes wide open as his whole body turned dark, the orange particles floating around, his eyes were deep yellow/orange-ish. 

He just needed to stay until maybe a speech was made, a toast or something. Just as proof that he showed up and he wasn't that asshole that ditched everyone that he felt like he was. That he actually was. But even after all this time, six years after Jean left, Marco still acted like they were the best of friends. Arms wide open with the biggest smile when he had seen that Jean had actually flew in for it.

"Holy crap!! Jean Kirstein, in the flesh!" Marco chuckled in disbelief, arms already wrapping around Jean before he could fully step into the backyard. The two men stood on the side of the house, right by the gate they used to sneak out of to go to the late night bonfires on Ocean Beach. Usually always Jean's idea that Marco would always go along with happily.

The moment was already smelling nostalgic, that greeny Presidio air mixed with the chatter of people from the backyard. Like another one of Marco's big family parties Jean was always tagging along to. "Yeah, yeah," Jean patted Marco's back as he let off that half smile he always does, "You didn't think I wasn't gonna come, did you?"

Marco pulled back, hands still warm on Jean's shoulders, "I prayed you'd come. But no,, I didn't think you would. You barely answer my texts anymore bro." Jean internally winced at that, especially since Marco was being so sincere and not even mad that Jean barely responds to him anymore.

Jean just gave an awkward shrug, trying to mask that wave of guilt that hit him. "Sorry man, been busy."

Marco smiled and shook his head, tufts of his middle parted bangs swishing from side to side. "Oh boy, haven't we all. Went from having you over every summer sharing my bed to having to get updates from your damn Instagram. And you don't even post that much."

A soft sigh left Jean's lips, remembering those days where he would basically be living with Marco for the summer. Late nights staying up watching movies in pillow forts in the living room and sneaking out to meet friends at the park down the street. "Mm yeah, your mom made the best grilled cheese."

"Still does," Marco's smile softened a bit, maybe happy that Jean actually remembered his life before moving to New York, "She's here, by the way. Asked about you, if you were comin'. She might guilt trip you into staying a little longer."

That made a pang of said guilt thump in Jean's chest. "I'll say hi before I go." He nods weakly a couple times, already starting to feel bad that he didn't keep in touch as much as he should have. Feeling like he had somewhat abandoned everyone back in San Francisco the moment he had stepped on that jet ride straight to that private school in New York.

Marco's smile fades just a little, like he could feel the tension that's coursing through Jean's nervous system right now. "So... how long are you in town for?"

Finally looking up, Jean can see that hopeful look in Marco's eyes, which just fueled that guilt in his chest even more.  "Just the weekend. Took the red eye last night."

"Still allergic to San Francisco huh?"

"Somethin' like that," Jean pursed his lips into a bitter smile, a huff of breath leaving his nose.

They both stood there in the lull, the clinking glasses and chatter from the back being the only thing filling that awkward silence that most definitely would have been there. Marco stuffed his hands in the pockets of his dress pants, leaning back against the side fence like he would do back in sophomore year as he waited for Sasha or Connie to text him that they were outside.

"Ya know.. it's okay to miss it," Marco's voice is softer now, more reassuring, " Home, I mean. Even if it got messy."

Jean didn't answer at first, just stared out into what he could see of the once familiar backyard. The hydrangeas still that soft baby blue that used to match the original color of the house. Instead of those tiki torch lights Marco's father had stuck around the perimeter of the yard there were now twinkly string lights strewn above, definitely put up by Marco. And the crowd, all people he couldn't recognize.

"Yeah," he finally said after a beat that probably lasted longer than he intended, "I guess I just don't know if it misses me back." His amber eyes were pointed down, watching his Brunello loafers kick a pebble so he wouldn't have to look at Marco with his guilt ridden eyes.

Marco studied him for a second like he wanted to say something more. Like he almost did. But then someone called his name, some distant aunt that had a shrieky voice that echoed throughout the yard and shook Jean out of that somber ass nostalgic daze he had fell into.

Marco clapped Jean on the back on the shoulder one last time, that same chipper Marco smile on his face once more. "Glad you came, man. Really. It means a lot t'me."

Jean watched Marco walk away and I standing start to laugh it up with some family members he doesn't recognize, and smiles to himself. "Yeah, me too." He really did miss his best friend.

Finally, after getting out of his head, Jean stepped into the packed backyard, bee lining straight to the champagne. He needed something to take that edge off, cause he was definitely feeling it. Taking big gulps, that bitterness coating his mouth as his eyes scanned the crowd. Everyone in their little groups, laughing and talking like everyone knew each other and he was the odd man out. The only stranger.

In all honesty he didn't know what to do or where to go, which was unlike him. He was so used to commandeering a room, being able to talk to anyone like he had in New York at school and at college and now at the company he was next in line to inherit. He passed a few strangers who nodded at him and gave polite smiles. Shook hands with one of Marco's uncles he recognized from way back when. And then;

"Oh—Kirstein?"

Jean turned at the sound of the voice, oh so familiar but so so different. And there she was, Sasha Braus, holding a tiny plate with a half bitten crab cake, a couple crumbs on her face like back in middle school. Her smile was unsure, all confused and shocked with pursed lips and stuffed cheeks. Just awkwardly stuck there like she didn't know whether to hug him or turn in the other direction. She settled on an awkward chuckle after she swallowed, still blinking like she couldn't believe it.

"Sasha," he instantly brought her in for a side hug, making sure his blazer didn't bump into her plate or get any stains on it, "Good to see you."

"Wow. You look... older," her eyes raked up. Jean had definitely grew into his looks. No longer was he tall and lanky, but more filled out in his arms and shoulders. Stubble grown in, hair much longer than Sasha remembered.

Jean smiled, still that same spunky weird Sasha he remembered, always blunt and saying things in that Sasha way that you'd have to really know her to understand, "You too, Braus."

"I mean,, not in a bad way. You look good. I just meant... you know, time. Time passed and now we're like, old." She tilted her head side to side in that so so way, still raking over his features and stopping at every new thing she noticed.

"Twenty two is ancient, huh?" He chuckles, sipping more of his champagne. One hand one in the front pocket of his dress pants, a habit he picked up from countless galas and events and formal parties with colleagues.

Sasha rolled her eyes, smiling as she finished that last bite of her crab cake. "You're still a smart ass."

Jean smiled, but his eyes were pooled with other emotions, emotions he usually avoided but this place was starting to bring out. "Didn't think I'd see you here."

"I mean, Marco is still my boy. We're still all close friends. Even after everything," Sasha defended, brushing the crumbs from her fingers with the napkin she held under that tiny plastic hors d'oeuvres plate.

Jean nodded slowly, "Mm. Right." He felt a bit self centered for thinking that their friend group had ceased to exist once he had moved to New York. Of course they still all hung out, why wouldn't they?

"So..." Sasha tried to fill that tiny awkward silence, glancing around like maybe she needed an exit from the conversation. "You've been in New York this whole time?"

"Yup," Jean gives, taking another sip of his champagne, wishing it was whiskey so he could erase any weird emotions he was starting to feel. Champagne wasn't strong enough for what he was trying to drink away. Didn't make him numb fast enough. "New York for six years. Way different from Frisco."

"Big Apple Jean. That's cool. Real cool," Sasha nods, eyes flitting from Jean to around the party. "You, uh, ever talk to anyone from around here?"

He knew what she was asking. He didn't answer right away. Just looked around at anything but her face. "Not really."

Sasha hummed, nodding a little too much like overcompensation. "Yeah. That makes sense."

He looked back at Sasha, brows creased just a bit like he was biting his tongue to stop this question from rolling off of it, "You still hang with her?"

Sasha blinked, like she didn't think he would actually ask about her. "...y/n?"

There it was. His chest tightened just hearing her name aloud. Sasha could see the way Jean's eyes glazed over a bit as the name spilled from her lips.

"Yeah. Of course. She's still my best friend," Sasha plastered a smile on her face, although her eyes were looking past Jean and around like she was searching for something. "She's doing good. Real good."

Jean tried to keep his face neutral, just nodding. Even if his heart was just lit on fire with kerosene feelings and a flaming match that was her name. "That's good."

Sasha's eyes were still wandering, like she suddenly remembered something. "Well, hey, it's good to see you again. Really."

"He nodded, "You too, Braus."

She started to take a few steps into the crowd, and turned back once more, just now with a half somber look, "Don't be a stranger, alright?" Then she was gone, disappearing into the crowd with her plate in hand.

Jean exhaled deeply, finishing that flute of champagne and turning to get another one. He needed to do something with his hands before they turned too clammy. Something to sip, to swirl, to pretend with.

He weaved through the sea of happy guests, politely nodding and smiling even if he still didn't recognize any of the faces. His phone buzzed once then twice in his pocket. Probably his fiancée. Or maybe his assistant confirming his flight home. Home. He hated how far that word had drifted from this place. He used to love this city, and now it was like a distant memory, all hazy and tinted with that achey nostalgia.

The champagne table was perched right at the edge of the yard, Jean's back facing the crowd as he filled his glass up with more Dom Perignon. He needed something with the highest alcohol content and he needed it fast. That honey colored bubbly that foamed up at the top just a bit, fizzy and bitter. He took a sip then nodded in satisfaction before turning back.

He could hear the jumbled laughter of children, backing up as a couple of them zoomed past him. He smiled, shaking his head as he watched them pass, reminding him of the days him and Marco used to run rampantly in this backyard as well. After he thought the coast was clear, he took a step forward.

"Watch out!—" A tiny voice yammered out just a little too late. Jean barely had time to look down when a tiny blur of motion darted around the corner of the gazebo just a little too fast, colliding directly with his leg. His hand jerked, the crystal champagne flute slipping from his fingers. Fragile glass somehow breaking even in the grass.

"Oh nooo," the little voice whimpered as they backed up, a little gasp coming out as if she might cry. "'M so so sorry, I didn't mean to! I was running after my friends and I didn't see you and—"

Jean blinked, mouth slightly parted. Down at his feet was a little girl, no more than five or six, in a pink tulle dress and ballet flats that were a bit muddy at the bottoms. Hair pulled back into a clip, a little messy and coming undone from playing all day. Cheeks all red and warm from embarrassment and overexertion.

She looked up at him with wide, watery eyes and for a second Jean forgot how to breathe. Because those eyes? They were his. Same shape, same color, same sharp arch in those eyebrows. And the way they furrowed together out of apologeticness? That was his too.

"Are–are you okay?" He stammered out to ask, kneeling down to her height and dusting the mud and grass that was now stuck to her knee instinctually like it was second nature. She nodded quickly, then shook her head no like she couldn't decide. Her lip jutting out, quivering.

"I'm not supposed to run in the grass with my shoes cause they're slippery," the little girl started, words already hiccuping out of that childlike fear of getting in trouble, "and now I spilled your drink." Jean could see the way her eyes were starting to water and how her chest was heaving a bit from heavy breaths.

"Hey, hey. It's okay. I didn't even like that drink," he tried to reassure her, dusting off that last bit of mud that was caked into her now reddening knee.

She raised her brow at him, blinking dumbfoundedly with those watery amber eyes. "Then why'd you get it?"

He mirrored her raised brow, then chuckled at her question. "Honestly? I dunno. Just to be like all the other adults I guess." The sport coat he adorned feeling tight as he shrugged, and maybe a little warmer now that he thought this little girl seemed too familiar to be a stranger.

The little girl squinted as she looked down at him, still bent to her height. "Well that's silly. You don't gotta do what everyone else is doing. My mama says that all the time."

A smile formed on Jean's face, a soft and genuine one that he probably hasn't smiled like in forever. "Yeah? She sounds real smart."

"She is! She's sooo smart. She helps me with my homework and knows how to do hair and makes me a bento every day for school," the little girl excitedly droned on, counting each little fact off on her tiny fingers as her eyes drifted in that way that kids did when they were deep in their train of thought.

Jean was still kneeled down, one elbow resting on his bent thigh for balance as he kept eye contact with this little girl he had just met. His heart was hammering right now, ears ringing as his head was swirling with every damn emotion in the book.

There was something about this little girl. Something about the way she talked with her hands all dramatic. The way little dimples formed every so often when she smiled mid sentence. It was all too familiar.

"What's your name?" He asks with a quieter voice, like he's still way too deep in his thoughts.

"Amelie. But my mama calls me Mimi and my uncle Coco calls me Melie," she grinned, all pearly baby teeth still.

Coco. That's Connie's nickname that–The more he stood there with this little girl, the more he felt in limbo. Like he was gonna cry or pass out or just shout out what the fuck is going on. But nothing came out, he just stared at the little girl.

"Do you gotta name?" She asked, head tilted curiously, eyes all bright and wide. Blinking those lashes that were so long and heavy they drooped a bit.

He laughed under his breath, shaking himself outta it. "Yeah, 'm Jean."

"John?" She asked, brows raising and meeting in the middle as his name rolled off her tongue, lip quirking up on one side like only one other person he knew.

He let out a heartfelt chuckle, eyes crinkling. "Close. Jean. Like with a soft J."

She nodded a little too exaggerated, hair coming even more loose from that clip that held it back, "Okay, Shawn."

He didn't even correct her, just watched her do these dramatic expressions that felt oh so familiar. Amelie squatted down to poke at the broken champagne flute that still sat in pieces in the grass. Curious and nosy just like someone else she reminded him of.

"Careful," Jean murmured as he gently stopped her hand, "you could cut yourself." His hand stayed holding onto her tiny one as he watched her mouth make that little 'o' shape he's seen somewhere else before.

And right as he was about to ask that little girl another question, a new but oh so familiar voice pierces through the muddled sound of the party. One that froze Jean right in place.

"Amelie, what did I say about running in those shoes? What did you break??" The voice was filled with that maternal concern, looking for the little girl in the sea of guests. Wedge heels silent in the grass as she made her way closer, Jean's silhouette still blocked by the little girl and her big puffy tulle dress.

Jean's stomach dropped straight to hell. Because there she was. y/n. And Jean felt like the universe was both blessing him and messing with him at the same damn time. Still clueless to his presence as she walked up to Amelie, that slow high heeled waddle as that gray sundress she wore shifted with each step, cropped knitted cardigan slung over one shoulder lazily, perfectly. Face etched with motherly worry. That expression dropped the second she saw him. She froze midstep, cutting off midsentence. Breath caught in her chest like she saw the damn ghost of Christmas past or something.

"Jean." she said, voice barely audible, heart pounding louder than the words she had just spoke.

Jean was still kneeling in the grass, heart falling out of his chest and into those broken glass pieces because his heart had just been pierced open. "You–you're here," he says in disbelief as if the woman were a mirage he'd been thirsting for all this time.

y/n didn't move, her eyes just flickered from him to the broken glass to Amelie. Amelie, whose hand was still in Jean's grip. Amelie, who had his whole face. Amelie, who was this whole amalgamation of these two people who were now seeing each other for the first time in years.

y/n swallowed hard, a shaky breath leaving her mouth as she spoke a little unsteadily now. "She ran off with the other kids while I was busy talking to Connie. I didn't know she would–"

"I didn't know you were here," Jean cut her off, finally rising to his feet slowly, still in disbelief.

"I didn't expect to see you either," she responded, eyes widening as she finally takes in this grown Jean. Way taller than he had left San Francisco. Just looking like a whole new person with leftover bits of that old Jean that she knew all too well.

"Is she...?"

Oh god. The question y/n had been avoiding for six whole damn years. She stammered, eyes wide and mouth open like she didn't want to answer. Because she really didn't. And from across the yard, Sasha had turned, seeing what she had helped hide for so long finally come to the light.

taglist:

@moristhesecond @hunnieknight @haithxm-main

@mikoochaan

@greyrain23 @reideneris @bro-im-just-playing @teabutmakeitazure @meimeimeirin

@psychopomp-enthusiast @jade1605 @mochinon-yah @eussstasss @lillieofth3valley

@ichikanu @harmonysanreads @yellowelectroslime @miraclecherryblossomsblog @rossithepixie

@schoenpepper @cadesthings @creationsabyss @hirotasama @jth12

@alhaithams-malewife @oliaxter @angeveins @sakisud @xhongshan

@materlux @lost-in-the-night-skiess @shinha @m1kuz0ne @vashyuu

Mmm... now what did his best friend say about you? "Oh Satoru, I know a babysitter that you and the kids will just adore. She's a real sweetheart."

A sweetheart... uh, yeah, well Suguru didn't warn him about the fact you had a thing for dads. Didn't warn him that you might be crazy. Touch-starved. A way too horny and provocative twenty-something year old virgin.

Maybe Suguru didn't even see this side of you... maybe it was just Satoru that you were throwing yourself at. Surely Suguru would have told him all about a heated affair that he had with a babysitter... right? Or was he the only daddy that you fantasized about fucking your pretty brains out?

Just the thought of that being true made his ego swell and his blood rush down to his heavy cock. He loved thinking about the obvious fact that you laid in bed touching your pussy to the thought of him.

He endured your flirting. Held his hands behind his back. Bit his tongue. Told himself that he can't make out with his hot babysitter on a random Sunday afternoon, as much as he wanted to, because that was diabolical.

You were sitting on the couch alone some nights, ensuring his kids were entertained and fed and happy, while he was at work. You watched their favorite cartoons until they felt drowsy and then you had to tuck 'em into bed and read three separate bed time stories for each of them because Yuji, Megumi, and Nobara all liked different stories.

It was exhausting, but such a joy to babysit such sweethearts.

After they fell asleep, you'd wander a lonely path back downstairs and look at the time — 8:45 PM — then yawn big and snuggle up on the couch and... wait. And wait. Anddd... wait.

Satoru would always come home late from work.

You'd hear the click of the front door and have an almost Pavlovian reaction. Oh, daddy's home.

You'd strain your ears to hear his footsteps as he walked down the hall, hear the satin hiss of his loosening tie, the sound sparking your over-active imagination. And, pushing a stressed-out sigh past his lips, Satoru would walk into the living room to see you looking drowsy and messy after a long day of taking care of his three kids.

And it's that messy sight of you which made something click in Satoru's mind. That's what really sold him on you. Sure, you were a crazy hot mess... but you had this undeniable motherly quality about you that just made him wonder.

What if he gave you his babies?

Shit. Sorry. Random Friday night thoughts. Forgive him. He's been working at a desk all day and now he's feelin' a bit woozy.

He looked at you, mumbled a sweet but gruff "Hey." and then took a seat right next to you on the TV-lit couch. He sat a respectable distance away from you at first... but then, uh, the next second you had already scooched over to his side until you two were almost pressing thigh against thigh.

Exhausted. Apprehensive at how close his flirty babysitter liked to sit next to him, while at the same time getting half-hard at the thought of tearing off your tiny clothes and showing you just how frustrated a tease like you makes him. Satoru sat and endured.

Underneath all that teenage-like sexual tension, he was feeling welcomed home by you. He almost forgot how nice it felt to have someone waiting up for him.

"So, how was work?" you asked.

He grumbled. He sighed. He was half-hard and full-frustrated. No one had asked him that question in a long time in such a caring voice that it actually tugged at his heartstrings a bit. Just a bit.

"It was... um, yeah... like any other day. Long and hard."

"Long and hard..." you nodded, trailing off and letting the innuendo fill the air.

He gave you a look.

"Exactly how long and hard?" you asked.

He couldn't believe that your stupid jokes like that made him chuckle. And what a sight his smile was; his dimples, the way his eyes crinkled up at the corners, making the slightest age lines appear on his pale face.

"Ah, finally I got a smile out of you."

"And that's the only one you're getting." he shook his head.

Satoru brought his big hand to massage his shoulder, letting out a tense groan from his thought.

Oh, the pitiful look that you gave him made him wanna crawl onto your lap and weep. He'd worked so hard all week with scarce breaks, and all he wanted was a sweet, soft woman to lay upon, to be loved by, to fuck stupid, to use like a good stress-relieving fleshlight — ya know? Just a nice way to wrap up a hard week.

"You..." you began, pressing one long decorated nail into his firm pecs, "... look like you're in desperate need of a massage."

"Ahah... no, no..."

He stuttered, smiled a big toothy smile that made you wanna bite him. God, he really looked like that old photo of himself right then — that one you stole, remember? His graduation photo. He just looked too hot and you had to have a memento of him for your memory box.

Shit. You were crazy.

Satoru had no fucking idea whether you were making a dirty suggestion or just genuinely offering him a massage.

Either way, the thought of your hands on him got the hairs on the back of his neck standing up.

Though the rational side of his brain was telling him to refuse your offer, the ghost of the crazed fuckboy that he used to be forced him to accept — like, fuck, what kind of idiot would you be if you refused a pretty girl to work her hands on you, Satoru? Don't put your past self to shame, he thought, you're only gonna get older one day and then that thing ain't even gonna sit up like a good boy without some treats... yeah... that's right... you're gonna be real fucking old one day, Satoru... think about it...

"You know what, actually...? Yeah, I'd love one... but you better be good." he said in a low rasp.

"Oh, don't worry — I'm the best." you grinned like a sweet little devil.

I'll fucking bet you are, cheeky slut, he thought.

He looked like he was holding back all his raw lust. Like if you said just one more thing like that then he would tear your clothes right off your slutty little body and fuck you until every thought flew out of your head except for thoughts of him.

****

Yeah, that martial artist discipline of his really came in handy once you started massaging his shoulders and back. If he hadn't been so strict on himself, he would have...

"Gosh, you're sooo tense, Mr. Gojo... relax."

... I need to fuck her brains out. That's the first thought that he had to push out of his head.

"... let me take the weight of your shoulders..." you nearly whispered, working your hands into his meaty muscle.

Ooh he slipped, he totally gave in.

"Mmm..." he let out a purring moan, feeling the pressure of your fingertips sink into his sore muscles. "That feels good... keep going."

You were trying to keep it cool and professional... er, as professional as you could with your hands exploring Gojo Satoru's muscular back.

Having the lights down low didn't help much. Everything was turning you on. Your clit was already buzzing and begging for attention from behind your thin panties.

This was babymaking atmosphere.

You were going insane, soaking your panties and twitching 'cause you've got a hot dad groaning under your touch.

"Y' can go a little harder..." he muttered in a rough voice.

"M'kay..."

"Mmm..." he let out that purring moan again, this time stretching it out.

Something was so erotic about giving him a massage, even though it wasn't supposed to be — uh, it really wasn't supposed to be, right? Right? It's not like you planned this out all night, not like you were scheming while watching cartoons and waiting for Gojo Satoru to come home.

Ah c'mon... he's an overworked man in need of a massage. Just listen to him, he's moaning like he's — oh, he's closing his eyes, too? He must be really feeling it. His breath is becoming choppy, too.

"Just a bit more..."

"Like this?"

"Yeahhh... just like that."

His mouth hung open in bliss. He squirmed a little. Shit... he could feel himself throbbing. Even slightest friction of his pants shifting along his painfully hard cock was already intense enough to make him clench his jaw.

You smirked, catching a delicious glimpse of the prominent outline of his bulging cock right before he instinctively covered it up with a pillow.

Damn, how does he keep such a monster hidden under such thin dress pants?

Sticking your tongue out in focus as you deliberately massage a spot on his back that makes him moan out the most, Satoru rolls his eyes back and dies a little orgasmic death.

"Yeah... th-that's it... right there... right there... you can go harder."

"Like this?"

"Yeahhh... good g- uhhh, th-that's good." he purred, holding back his tongue just in time because oops, he almost called you a good girl without even thinking.

Oh, that pillow coverage sure helped to keep his boner out of sight but then he had a new problem... the pleasurable friction of the pillow and the fact his stubborn hips liked to move on their own.

Without trying to make it obvious, he was getting off with the pillow, shifting it as inconspicuously as he could but he just couldn't get enough friction — shit, when was the last time that he was so horny he could even enjoy fucking a pillow? It was insane how hard he was, how much his cock oozed sticky precum, how every inch stood at attention asking politely to stretch out some good babysitter pussy.

He shut his pretty blue eyes when started feeling reaaally good. Like, god, he needed this more than he needed air. It was such a shit day at work, but now all the stress that he had built up throughout the day just melted away with each subtle thrust of his bulge into the pillow, and your soft hands digging into his muscular back.

I wanna fuck her so bad.

"Uhhh, fuckkkkkkk...!" he let out a broken moan.

You stopped massaging his back, eyes blown wide open, trying to hold back your shock and snickering. He had worked up a subtle sweat. His muscles were twitching. He was gasping. It was so obvious to you what had just happened.

"Mister?"

"Huh?" he blinked the stars out of his eyes, coming-to as if his orgasm knocked him out for a second.

"Are you okay...?"

He opened his eyes and... oh, there was a wet patch on his dress pants where he just came. Oops. A little massaging and pillow-fucking and he came all over his thigh? Well, that had never happened before. Guess his cock was just super sensitive after not having sex for so long — but you didn't hear that from me...

Satoru gulped. He abruptly stood up, acting as nervous as a bird, "Um, uh... it's late, isn't it? I've gotta drive you home..."

"Aw, okay." you frowned at him, wiggling your hips like you were expecting more.

And he looked at your wiggling hips, your slightly spread apart legs, and then he let a nasty thought pass his mind, and nearly caved and asked you if you wanted to...

****

God, you had your legs apart and he could smell your ovulation. No no, don't call him crazy. He could smell it.

And as he went upstairs to wipe the cum off his inner thighs and change into new pants, he couldn't stop thinking about the fact that you must have been soaked. You must have had the prettiest pussy ever.

Oh, he threw his head back and groaned when he met you back downstairs because while he tried acting professional, now you were all worked up and in an outrageously flirty mood.

You were about to say something outrageous again but he stopped you dead on your tracks.

"Shut up, I don't want to hear it. Let's go." he said, grabbing his keys.

You saluted him playfully, "Yes, daddy."

He did a double take. "What?"

"Nothing." you smiled innocently.

His eyes caught yours, then he rubbed his cheek like he was stressed out.

It was really obvious why he liked you, but Satoru was aching to ask why on earth you like him so much.

Didn't you think he was an egotistical asshole? That's how his ex-wife described him, anyways.

*****

"So you're a Sagittarius, huh?" you ask, little voice dripping in sultriness and setting off alarm bells in the fuckboy side of his mind. "That's hot."

"Uh-huh."

He's driving you home. 60 mph. Switching lanes. Bright blue eyes blind-spotting to the left. Next they're side-eyeing you. Catching on your pretty baby angel face. Trying to keep it together, but his cock is starting to make a bulge in his pants again. Something you've discovered is that the poor man doesn't even change out of his suit most days; when he comes home he just faceplants into bed and falls asleep.

"A december baby?"

"Yup. December seventh." he replies curtly.

Relax, Satoru. It's just conversation. Just innocent, professional conversation with the babysitter who just witnessed you fucking a pillow and cumming in your pants.

After a steadying inhale, he politely returns the question, "What about you? When's your birthday?"

Satoru pays you a brief glance before bringing his gaze back to the speedometer. 50 mph.

Just that one question turns into a deep exploration of your psyche.

"... I just don't like guys my age... like, god, they don't even turn me on anymore."

You give a dramatic pause before looking at him with a nympho fire in your eyes.

"Hey, you're an old man — got any sage advice for me?"

"Hey, who you callin' an old man?"

"Sorryyy, I'm just being cheeky."

"I can tell."

"Sooo... what's your advice?"

Satoru furrows his brows. "For what?"

"For getting older guys to pay one small glance to a sweet girl like me?"

He tenses up and doesn't reply.

You're insane. Worse, you're even more insane than he was when he was your age.

His cock is throbbing against his inner thigh. Again. Precum. Everywhere. How dare you? He's in-between throttling you and stopping off on the side of the highway to bend you over his car's hood to show you he ain't no old man. What a cheek...

"This is your turnoff, isn't it?"

"... yeah."

You watch him flick on the turn signal. You catch his eyes just before he blind-spots again.

As he's pulling off the highway, you pull a dumb joke out of your brain, eager to get a response from him.

"It's my turnoff. But ya wanna know my turn-on?"

"..." he doesn't reply, just gives you a look, then tears his eyes off you and rubs his fingers over his mouth.

"C'mon." you encourage, "You're so uptight; let me humor you a little."

"I'm pretty sure I can guess your turn-on."

You tilt your head at him expectantly. He purses his lips. Drives down your street. Pulls into your driveway. Parks. Unbuckles his seatbelt with a tantalizing slowness that sparks your imagination — d'you wonder if he unbuckles his belt that slowly, too?

Satoru offers one lazy guess. "Older men?"

"Bingo!"

He stifles a smile, shakes his head, thinks you're crazy, and then opens his car door and steps out, leaving you to giggle and unbuckle your seatbelt alone.

He swerves 'round the hood of the car over to your side, and reappears at your window to open your door for you.

"Wow. Handsome and chivalrous? Why'd your wife let a gem like you go?"

"... that's not really any of your business."

"Aw, c'mon... I'm just dripping with curiosity."

He doesn't reply again, just walks you silently to your front door. His heart is beating faster as he eyes out the curve of your ass. That tight sundress shows just the faintest hint of a thong underneath.

Just a thin sundress? A tiny thong underneath? God you're so fuckable, he thinks. So, so fuckable. And the worst part is that you're one of the girls who knows you're hot. That's why you bounce around in front of men like him like you're a reckless bunny.

He's trying so hard to block out wild fantasies of ripping the fabric off your tight body and fucking you into a dumb, slutty mess.

Block it out, Satoru, block it out.

Finally, he replies to the question you posed earlier.

"I'm full of myself, apparently." he says bitterly.

"You're full of yourself?" you tilt your head, a light confusion glossing over your features.

He's so patient and fatherly to his kids; a jovial and wholesome man. I mean, he takes his kids to every place they wanna go, makes gingerbread houses with them in the festive season, plays pretend with them, sets up outdoor adventures in his backyard, gets dressed up in a ridiculous costume for Halloween and takes them out trick-or-treating every year without fail. For god's sake, he bought a hot pink set of baking cookware just because Nobara fancied herself a chef.

He gives his all to his kids, how could anyone think he's full of himself?

"... seems like your wife was wrong about you." you reply.

"Ex-wife. And nah, you'll probably agree with her if ya stick around me long enough — " he speaks self-deprecatingly of himself, but then you interrupt him.

"— mmm, if I stick around ya for to long... y'think I'll end up being full of you, too?"

He stutters. Blood rushes to his cock.

"What?"

"Nothing, nothing."

Satoru blinks at you in total disbelief. Again, an innocent face like you saying such outrageous shit is just insane to him.

"You've got a nasty conscience, you know that?"

"N'aw, don't mind me. I'm just having fun, being a little silly." you giggle, eyes all over him and his pretty, rideable face.

"Well, I wouldn't call flirting with older men being 'silly'..."

"And I wouldn't call pillow-fucking being 'professional'..."

Oh god. Oh my fucking god. He's breaking in two like a kitkat.

Satoru is rendered fucking silent. He's stunned. He's red.

"Goodnight." is all he replies with. And then he leaves. What the hell else is he supposed to say to that? You're crazy.

Now you got him all worked up and he doesn't know what to do. If younger Satoru knew that one day in his thirties he'd meet a slutty babysitter... oh, god. Younger Satoru would be pumping his fist in the air.

But he's gotta keep playing it cool, 'cause there's no way he can fuck his babysitter... there's NO way...

... so there he is that very night tucked in his black satin sheets, leaky cock in his fist and jaw slacked, face sweaty, fucking himself to supposedly real "I fucked my babysitter" erotica stories. No, he's not one for porn videos. He just wants to lay back and picture your pretty face with no disturbances. He just wants to lay wayyy back on his king-sized bed, fisting his cock with soft fwupfwupfwups while picturing his babysitter's pussy sitting pretty on him.

He groans at his dirty little fantasies as he slides his hand up and down his shaft, getting so lost in the idea of taking your virginity that he forgets all about the erotica story he's reading and jus' closes his eyes, head thunking back against the headboard in bliss and cock dripping like a leaky faucet, practically drooling all over his lower abdomen.

"Good girl; take it all, just like that..." he mutters.

He slides his thumb over his leaky tip and holds it over the hole, smearing precum everywhere as it oozes out, getting his cock wetter before going back to stroking it at a steady speed. His breath gets ragged as he lures his orgasm out.

He's never met a virgin as slutty as you before, that's for sure.

Shit, he really shouldn't be thinking about fucking his babysitter. He really shouldn't tease his cock to thoughts of taking your virginity. It shouldn't bring on his orgasm to picture you trapped underneath his heavy muscles, cumming all over his mature cock.

"... ugh!" he moans out, shifting down the headboard and curling his toes. "Fuck! Fuck... oh, shit, baby..."

Just like that, his jaw slacks in pleasure 'n his cock shoots out thick ribbons of cum and he's creaming all inside you — oh, sorry. That was just in his fantasies.

In reality, he's just cum all over his abs and chest. It shot up so high that it almost reached his neck.

He pants and looks down at the wasted seed that he coulda pumped inside you.

Groaning as he comes down from his high, Satoru lays with his long legs spread out on his bed for a while and curses himself for thinking of fucking his babysitter.

And then he starts weighing the pros and cons of actually doing it.

Yeah, he stares up at the ceiling after jerking off for like thirty minutes, cum splattered on his abs, thinking about how bad of an idea it would be to actually fuck his slutty babysitter.

No, Satoru. You can't. Absolutely no — no fucking the babysitter. Satoru? Bad boy. Don't do it. I know she's fuckable but you cannot fuck your —

****

— so like a week later, he's spreading your legs and crawling inbetween them.

He's placing rough kisses against your lips like he's almost angry about being this horny.

"Nn!" you whine, feeling his fingertips press against your clothed pussy, pushing against your entrance.

"Aw, you're soakin' your panties just from a little bit of kissing? Aren't you cute." he murmurs on your skin.

"Sh-shut up and fuck me... I can't take this teasing." you spit back, pulling him back into a rough kiss.

He chuckles into your mouth, tongue slithering over yours and tangling up with it for a few seconds before he pipes up;

"I'm just getting back at you for all the teasing I endured from your slutty ass."

Biting your lip. Pulling away. Letting out a purely erotic noise. Sliding his big hands down your sides and gripping you like you're his woman.

Oh now your breath gets caught in your throat.

"Let's get you nice and ready for me, hm?" he husks, lips dangerously close to your clothed pussy.

Oh now your heart rate spikes to an alarming rate. Fuck. You're actually doing it. You're actually gonna fuck an older guy.

He plants a rough kiss on top of your pussy, chin pressing against your buzzy clit.

"Mm...!" you press your lips together, trying to keep some sort of composure but you can't 'cause you've got Gojo Satoru between your legs — who the hell would be able to stay composed in your position?

Damn, it drives him crazy when your inner thighs graze the sides of his cheeks. You're ruffling up his hair. He's going down on you.

A moment later, he's pushing your panties aside and lapping at your pussy. Another moment later, he's curling his tongue up inside you.

"Oh my god th-that feels good..." you gasp, feeling his slippery tongue writhe inside.

"Mmm, I know it does."

He feels smug hearing this, pressing an open-mouthed smile against your pussy lips as he sticks his tongue as deep into you as he can possibly go, eyeing your blissed-out expressions. Sliding his tongue out, spitting on your pussy, rubbing sloppy frantic circles on your clit, Satoru's acting like a total show off.

It makes you hide your face between your palms.

"Ah-ah-ah... I want you to watch." he growls, "Don't you dare take your eyes off me, m'kay? That's a good girl."

Tip of his nose nudging your clit as he tongue-fucks you into hazy bliss, you're moaning like you never knew you could.

And he's just in heaven, 'cause he's got your juices dribbling down his chin and glossing his lips better than his favorite lip gloss — uh-huh.

"Mister! Fuck! Fuck! Fuck — nnn! G-gojooo!" you start mewling his name and he goes faster, trying to chase your orgasm out with full intent to leave you hanging.

Your breath is staggering, pussy pulsing with that edge of pleasure and oh, suddenly he's retracting his tongue from your weeping, spasming hole before you can cum all over his face.

Yep. He leaves you hanging.

"Wait — ! Nn, I was gonna c—"

"— y'know, princess" he interrupts, wiping your slick off his cheek with his fingers and licking it off right before your wide eyes, "I really think we're past the formalities; call me Satoru."

Half-dazed and ditzy on the pleasure of a missed orgasm, you watch as Satoru pulls away from you, his knees digging into the mattress and weighing it down.

Veiny hands find his belt and smoothly undo it, whipping off with a loud crack.

"O-oh?" you breathe excitedly.

He smirks, seeing how your eyes are glued to his bulge, "Aw, ya gonna perv on me while I strip for ya?" he teases, then clicks his tongue in regret when you reply with a lamb-like look, "Hahaha, don't get shy on me now. I'm just teasing."

Absolutely drooling over his physique as he strips his clothes off tantalizingly slowly, Satoru's been so composed up until now; as he unbuttons and unzips his long zipper, you notice how ragged his breathing actually is. Like he needs it bad. Like his cock is getting strangled by his clothes.

After hastily taking his pants off, Satoru quickly frees his eager cock from his boxer briefs.

And your eyes go wiiide.

"Oh."

Pale. Pink. Stiff. Leaky. Bit of an upper curve. Thick veins. What's that, like maybe a nine? No, no, there's no way. Actually, on second look, maybe?

"C'mere, let me have you." he rasps, one hand gripping his dummy big cock.

"That is not gonna fit inside me."

His ego swells. Ah, how many girls have said that to him in his life? And it never gets old.

"Nah, it'll fit."

You twitch excitedly, breath catching in your throat as Satoru comes closer to you and snuggles his slim waist between your legs which you just keep spreading wider and wider, so ready to take him even though you're nervous as hell.

"Ready to get ya cherry popped, cutie?" he asks.

He taps his cock against your entrance, coats it in your slippery juices, teases that hot tip in 'n out.

"Yeaaaaaaaaahhhhhhhhhhhfuck! Holy shit! Um! Uh!"

"What is it?" he throws a smug smile your way.

He watches intently as your pouty lips move, "'Big, 's really fucking big...! Ooh, god! Nn! Nnn!"

"You're so cute." he arches over you, grinning like the Cheshire cat.

His head starts to spin as he slides inside you.

Fuck. He's actually doing it. Sure, he fucked that flight attendant once. Yeah, he had a couple flings. He was a nasty, sex-crazed fuckboy in his youth. And yet... nothing felt as nasty as this.

This is everything he ever fucking needed. This is the sweet and nasty girl that he's craved for all his life. The rest were too nasty, some too sweet, but you? A perfect slut.

Satoru's curving up into you and teasing your sweet spots with his tip like he's letting 'em know that soon they're gonna get bullied with his hard-hitting strokes.

And your pussy's happily getting stretched out, walls clinging to every inch he pushes in like she's so thankful that you finally gave her something besides your fingers or toys to clench around.

"Ah, fuck, that's tight."

"I'm sorry!"

"No, no, it's a good thing... just relax a little more, 'm gonna push it deeper, is that okay?"

"Yes, please... oh please, fuck, yes give me everything!"

He grins, "No need to ask twice." he murmurs, right before he's sinking another few of his inches into your struggling pussy.

Satoru just comes undone at the feeling of being inside you.

His big hands come to squeeze your breasts, jiggling them around with a playful tongue poking out his mouth like he's just tempted to put his mouth on them.

So he does, y'know he's already lost enough self-restraint to the point where he's fucking his babysitter, so of course he's gonna give into his urge to suck on your breasts.

His hot, wet mouth envelopes your sensitive nipple, tongue flicking against it 'till he draws out cute whimpers from you.

He's pulling his mouth off, kissing the curve of your cleavage, groping a handful of your breasts, looking down at you like he knows damn well no boys your age are gonna fuck you as good as him — shit, scratch that, ain't fuckin' nobody in your whole life gonna fuck you as good as he will.

When your walls permit him to go deeper, Satoru stutters out like he's the virgin here, "F-f-fuck, there you go, baby, jus' take my cock like you're meant to, yeah?"

He moves his hips, relishing that sloppy sound of your pussy gushing around him — oh god you're bucking your hips to meet his hips 'n you're driving him crazy makin' him think for a split second about remarrying.

Like, he's going insane, he's actually going insane.

Hardly ten minutes later and he's fucking you into your first orgasm, loving how you can't even control how hard you cum on his cock. He's ruthlessly rubbing your clit throughout your orgasm, eager to make your eyes roll back completely. And it's making you freak the fuck out, 'cuz no one else has done this to you. No one has brought you to a real orgasm before.

And he can tell.

It makes him twitch and dive deeper into your sopping hole, eager to lure out as much juice as he can 'cause there's nothing he loves more than a creamy mess on his cock.

He's bending and pushing you into the positions he loves, thrusting at a steady pace that you can keep up with at first but sometimes he'll go harder, harder, harder until you're sobbing and wailing out so loudly that he needs to clamp a hand over your mouth.

He chuckles, "Quiet down, princess. You're gonna wake up my kids at this rate."

" 'm shorry!" you mumble into the palm of his hand, feeling his cock drill into your sweet spots and pressure your walls like crazy.

"No, no. Don't be sorry. It's cute. You're taking me so well," he praises, "Doing so so well for me, princess."

Those soft coos don't match his nasty strokes. He's railing you like he's trying to fuck every last bit of virginity out of your pussy, 'till it remembers the shape of his cock, 'till it clings to him, 'till it knows who's ya daddy.

Especially while prone-boning you. Damn, who forgot to give this guy the handbook on How to Fuck a Virgin? He's pounding into you and grunting like he's gone psycho... ohhhhehasn'thaddpussyinlikeayear. Okay. Makes sense.

"Ah, fuck — fuckin' look at me while I fuck you," he commands, sweaty cheek pressing against yours. Satoru grabs your jaw and makes you look at him, loving your lewd expressions. "Haha, such a fucked-out face... cute."

He thrusts faster into you, not even letting much of his cock in 'cause he knows form experience that virgin pussy just can't handle all of that. So he's easing out each time he accidentally dives in too deep.

And when he pounds up into you like that, it makes sense why the phrase "fucking your brains out" came about. His cock has got you in a crazy back arch, got you seeing stars. No thoughts. Just pussy spasms.

"Harder!! 'want it harder! Please! Fuck me harderrr!!" you plead, totally cockdrunk on Gojo Satoru.

"Are you sure 'bout that, sweetheart? 'Cause I don't think you can handle it..."

"Please!!" you beg.

"Aw... 'can't say no to that fuckable face, can i?" he throws your leg over his shoulder, repositioning himself, grinning, "Take a deep breath. You tell me if it's too much, m'kay? Y'can tap out at any time."

"Yeah, yeah! I know!!" you respond so eagerly it makes him giggle.

As instructed, you take a deep breath. But honestly, did it really prepare you for getting fucked this hard? Um, no.

"Fuck, fuck!! Nnn... god, fuck me! Yesyesyes, just like that please!!"

"Ah, shit, baby..."

"God, you're gonna — you're gonna break the bed, 'Toruuu!"

"I'm gonna break you first." he moans, pounding every last inch of his cock into your happy little pussy, gives your g-spot a beating that has your whole body on the brink of insanity.

"Ughhh... fuck!" you choke up, you hiccup, you sob and wail — and he has to kiss you quiet.

My god did you need this. You needed to indulge in this nastiness, 'cuz who the hell else is ever gonna give you the fucking of a lifetime? Uh, yeah, that's right...

"Yeah, keep enjoying my fucking cock. You know nobody else is gonna fuck you as good as this, little slut." he whispers into your ear, cheek sticky with sweat 'n pressing against yours.

What kind of man did his ex-wife think he was? Full of himself? Nah... he wasn't that full of himself. C'mon now...

"... fuck you look so good cumming on my cock like that. Aw, you shaking? Can't handle it? Am I just too good at fucking you, huh? Wanna cum again? Come on, use your words, you're a big girl. You wanna cum again, don't you? I know you want it. I know you love my cock, 'course you do... 'm fucking perfect, baby. 'N you're gonna take every perfect fucking inch of me."

Oh. Okay. Maybe he is full of himself.

Well, he's full of himself and now you're full of him, too.

Satoru isn't shy about pumping a thick, gooey cumload inside you. He isn't shy about frothing up his creampie during round two, either. And he isn't shy about flipping you into missionary and pushing your trembling legs back and sliding his cock in again.

"Can ya do one more for me, baby?"

"Y-yeah!"

"Aw, but you look exhausted..." he grins. "I wouldn't wanna break my favorite babysitter on accident."

"I'm okay, I swear! I can take it!" you start babbling.

Sweat is dripping off your bodies and soaking the bed. The room smells like sex. His muscles are pressing into you. He's diving into you like a swimmer and grunting and making a dent in the wall 'cause that headboard is banging into the wall just as hard as he's banging into you. Neither of you even notice the dent in the wall. You're just stuck together, connected in that one place, fucking like bunnies.

You palm at his abs, pressing flat against them and melting at the feeling of his mmmaturemusclestwitchingohgodbless, you're so gone after feeling his sweat gather on your hand and catching a glimpse of the bulge his cock makes inside you.

Satoru blanks when your small hand feels up his muscles. Now his thrusts got your lower tummy shuddering and you just wonder what he's thinking when his brows furrow together in such serious focus at your fertile pussy.

"Ohmygodohmygodyou'regonnafuckingbreakme!!" you squeal, fisting the pillow and nearly crying into it.

He giggles, slowing his thrusts to a pace your poor, abused pussy can handle better, "Sorry, doll, you jus' got me too excited when you touched me like that."

"Nn!!" you fist the sheets in your hand, realizing just how far he fucked you to the edge of the bed — the two of you were nearly falling off the bed until uh, oops, you were on the floor?

"Ahh-ahhh! Ah! AH! Wh-what kinda... wrestling move is this, Satoru! Fuck, go easy on me!! 'M gonna cum again!!"

He's too into it to bother getting the two of you back on the bed. Now he's just pinning you down on the plush carpeted floor, railing your tight cunt from behind like he owns it. He may as well, honestly.

"Oh yeah?" he grunts, "Cum again on my cock. Lemme see you work it out on my cock. C'mon, isn't this the cock you wanted so badly? Put on a show for me, baby."

"Ahh!!" you sluttily cry out, bouncing your hips up and down and working your pussy on just six of his nine inches.

"Fuuuck... look at that back arch... haha, you already runnin' outta stamina? Yeah, tell me about it. It's hard work fuckin' a big cock, isn't it? Okay, okay, spoiled princess..." he mutters, hearing your exhausted pleas, "Perk that ass up, lemme show you how it's done."

"But this position is so — AH!" you kick your legs as he slides deeper with each quick stroke.

His tip's prodding at a spot you don't even recognize; a sweet gummy spot that's like your off button. You can't keep your mouth shut and now you're getting so loud that he's gotta clamp a hand on your mouth again, pushing you into the carpeted floor and not stopping his hard-hitting thrusts for a looong few seconds, driving it deep.

He picks up his pace, balls slapping into your clit so loudly that he can't even complain about the loudness of your moans. That skin-slapping 'n squelching could wake up the neighborhood.

"Fuck," he grunts, "Ah, ah... stay right there, 'gonna make you a mama..."

You thrash your legs around, "Nn! Please!" you squeal, feeling his warm seed pour into you again without warning. Just that feeling makes you cum. Hard. Satoru's cock freaks out at the feeling of your pussy's milking contractions along his length, making his tender tip spurt out a little bit more cum against your cervix.

It's so bad. You really shouldn't love getting creampied by an older man this much, let alone your... uh, boss?

Worse. He shouldn't have such a big fucking smile on his sweaty face. He shouldn't be rolling his eyes back in satisfaction like that, like he finds it so funny that he actually did it.

"God, you sure loved milking me, huh?" he smiles wide, bangs soaked and sticking to his sweaty forehead.

"Nnn..." you nod, totally exhausted.

He watches you trying to catch your breath, gulping and gasping. He slides his softening cock out of your over-creampied pussy, earning a small whimper from you. Oh, you feel so empty now, it's crazy. Just how did he pack all of that cock inside you? He can't figure it out, either.

"You okay, sugarplum?" he asks sensitively, stroking your cheek with the back of his hand.

"Yahhh..." you weakly whimper back, wiggling your foot cutely, "Need t' cleanup... need help w-walking..."

All his creampies bubble out your pussy.

He stifles a laugh, feeling a bit guilty. Satoru presses a kiss to your back, peeling you off the floor and practically carrying you to the bathroom — floor and walls black tiles, every corner spelling 'rich boy' in bold letters.

Carefully and slowly, Satoru helps to clean you up, massaging your sore parts with his big hands, peppering your neck in the sweetest little kisses as if he didn't just rearrange your guts and ruin your pussy for other men.

"So... how's it feel, not being a virgin anymore?" he asks with a dirty big bad fuckboy smile.

You simply blush and smile shyly in response. It makes him laugh.

"Aw, are you all shy now, pookums? Shit, I think I fucked tha nasty outta you..."

You nuzzle him, looking about ready to sleep, and it just melts his heart.

"Mm, y'know... Suguru was right about you; you're a real sweetheart. I think I might just have 'ta keep you around for a long time."

ㅤ🍒 x 🐇 x 💗@𝖆𝖗𝖒𝖎𝖓𝖘𝖚𝖒𝖎

ㅤ𝕿𝖆𝖌𝖑𝖎𝖘𝖙

“But that’s not really your name, is it?”

His voice has turned silky. Threatening. Like the voice he sometimes uses when he orders you not to cum before he tells you to.

“Is it?” he hisses when you don’t answer, pressing the barrel of the gun harder against your neck.

You gulp. “No.”

“What is it, then?”

You whisper your name. Your real name.

“And why are you here?” he asks.

His breath tickles in your ear and you suddenly realise how close he’s standing. His hard chest pressed against your back, his hand not holding the gun slowly trailing up your waist, caressing your ribs, before he brushes past the side of your breast and up along your neck. His fingers linger there for a moment before he almost gently wraps them around your throat, just as he moves the gun to your temple.

He squeezes lightly. As an encouragement. Or a threat.

“I was supposed to gather intel on the Warrior Unit,” you admit.

It’s not because you’re afraid of dying that you tell him. No, it’s because you can’t bear the twinge of betrayal in his voice. Of hurt. 

God, you never meant for this to happen. For you to care for him, and you never meant for him to actually catch feelings for you. 

But it happened, and now, here you are.

“Supposed to?” he repeats, his grip around your throat tightening further.

It’s starting to get uncomfortable, and you just know his fingers are bound to leave bruising marks.

The thought both scares and excites you.

“I’m sorry,” you gasp. “I…I don’t care about that anymore. I-- I just want--”

He must’ve caught the breathiness in your voice. The silent plea – for his forgiveness, for his mercy, for him. You can feel the heat emanating from him as well as the unmistakable hardness suddenly pressing against the small of your back.

“Please,” you whisper. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I promise I’ll be good. You can do whatever you want with me, just…just forgive me, please.”

You know you sound pathetic, but you don’t care. Besides, judging from the way Porco’s cock twitches against your back at your pleading, he doesn’t mind it either.

But then again, he’s always been the more dominant of the two of you – always a sucker for you whenever you beg.

For the first time since he confronted you, you dare move. It’s almost imperceptible, just a tiny lift of your chin – just so that you can get a glimpse of his face.

His jaw is set, conflicting emotions flickering across his face. But he doesn’t pull the trigger. Instead, his grey eyes seek yours, and it’s as if something inside him snaps. Pupils dilating and with a pink flush across his high cheekbones, he slackens his grip on your throat slightly, allowing you to take a deep, shuddering intake of breath.

“On the bed,” he orders. “If you so much as think of making a run for it…I will shoot.” 

You do as he says, even if it feels like your legs can barely function. Porco’s hand moves from your throat to your waist to support you, almost as if on instinct. As if he still cares.

You crawl onto the bed, then turn around to face him.

“Strip.”

You obey. The gun is still pointed straight at your forehead, but for some reason, it doesn’t bother you. On the other hand, it’s strangely…thrilling. Exhilarating. Only serving to heighten your senses. 

First, your shirt goes. Cool air hits your already perked nipples, hardening them even further. You can see Porco’s Adam’s apple bob as his gaze fixes on them. Then, your pants together with the military boots until you’re only wearing your undergarments. 

You press your thighs together, embarrassed by the wet spot already evident between your legs.

But Porco will have none of that.

“I said. Strip.”

You hurry to remove your very last piece of clothing, now laying completely bare before him. It makes you feel exposed and vulnerable, especially with him fully clothed.

“Let me see.”

You spread your legs for him. His eyes fix on your glistening core and he lets out a low, strangled groan.

“Touch yourself for me.”

From the way his voice has turned hoarse, the way his eyes darken and his attention on the gun he’s holding wavers, you just know his cold mask is starting to crack.

You can’t help the small smile playing around your lips as you let one hand trail down over your stomach while the other grabs your breast, kneading and rolling your nipple. You jolt as soon as your fingers finally reach your soaked pussy.

But as soon as you start touching yourself, you just know that that’s not what you want.

It’s not enough.

Even as you dip two, three fingers into your throbbing hole, desperately pumping them in and out while your palm delivers much needed friction to your clit, it’s not enough. Because your own fingers can’t compare to his. They’re thinner, shorter, and you can’t reach as deep or get the angle just right like he can. 

You let out a low whine. “P-p-please…I-I-I need you.”

Porco’s eyes have almost turned black, his lips slightly parted and jaw slack as he looks at you. Your gaze shifts to the prominent bulge in his pants and you reach out a hand towards him.

For a split second, you think he’s just going to stand there, watching you...but then, he pounces.

He just has enough self-awareness to put the safety back on his gun before he places it on the nightstand, and then, he’s on you. 

His entire body cages you in, arms braced on each side of your head before he catches your lips in a bruising kiss. When you bite his bottom lip, he groans and starts rutting against you, not caring that your slick is going to stain his pants. 

Your eyes roll to the back of your head at the friction, your hips bucking up against him. He pauses for a moment, just long enough to pull his shirt over his head and remove his pants. 

All moisture leaves your mouth as his cock springs free, thick and veiny and perfectly curved, as if it were made to hit that spongey spot inside you that makes your brain short-circuit. His tip is tinged red and already leaking pre-cum.

Instinctively, you open your mouth, and Porco doesn’t hesitate to accept the invitation. One of his hands finds your hair, fingers curling into the strands before he slams his cock into your throat.

Almost unhinging your jaw to let him deeper in, you relax the back of your throat until your nose is pressed against the golden hair at the base of his cock. Tears start pooling at the corners of your eyes, but just before they can spill down your cheeks, he pulls out again.

“F-fuck.” He drags out the curse, voice strained as he starts fucking into your mouth.

You gag around him, eyes glazed and wet with tears as you look up at Porco above you, watching the way his toned stomach flexes with every thrust, the way his biceps bulge when he grips your hair harder to keep you in place.

“Did I give you permission to touch yourself again?” he barks, and your hands freeze on their way towards your neglected pussy.

You hadn’t even noticed you’d been moving them.

“You wanted this, right?” he snarls. “Then, don’t you dare touch yourself again before I tell you to.”

A dripple of spit escapes the corner of your mouth as you give a tiny nod.

“Good girl,” he coos, and you feel your hole clench around nothing at the praise.

He continues to thrust into your mouth, his pace increasing. You hollow your cheeks, doing your best to use your tongue to press against the underside of his cock, swirling around that spot you just know sends him spiralling every time.

You know he’s close when his thrusts turn sloppier, his cock growing impossibly bigger inside your mouth – but as you brace yourself to swallow his load, he almost shoves you away from him.

“Not yet,” he grits out.

You let out a yelp as he suddenly moves again, flipping you onto your stomach and lifting your ass into the air. Next thing you know, his hand is in your hair again, lifting your chin and forcing your back to arch. His other hand grabs your hip, fingers digging into the soft flesh as he lines up his cock at your entrance.

And when he finally, finally rolls his hips, it’s embarrassing, how easily he slides in.

Mouth agape and eyes closed, you feel yourself stretch to accommodate him, every ridge and vein of his cock adding to the mind-numbing pleasure. He grunts as he bottoms out, his tip just touching your cervix before he pulls back, then slamming back in.

You bury your face in the pillow to muffle your scream, but a loud smack to your ass cheek, makes you jerk up again.

“Let me hear you. Let everyone hear how pretty you sound when I fuck you.”

Porco curses when he feels your pussy clench around his cock. “You like that, hm? You like the idea of others hearing you? Hearing us? Or did you like it when I called you pretty?”

He grits his teeth as you clench around him again. He increases his pace, hips snapping fast and loudly against yours, the sound only interrupted by your screams and cries and pleas as you urge him to fuck you even faster, even harder.

“Oh, fuck, I wanna see your face when you cum,” he groans as he feels you getting close and, before you know it, he has flipped you onto your back and slung your legs over his shoulders. 

It’s a good thing training as a Scout has made you flexible, you think as he literally folds you in half, his chest pressed against yours as he enters you again, driving impossibly even deeper into your dripping heat.

“Yeah, that’s it,” he whispers. He wipes a stray tear from your cheek. “Just let it go. God, you look so pretty like this. Yeah, just like that, ngh…yes, fuck.”

You cum. Hard. Pleasure courses through your veins, so intoxicating that you might as well have been drunk with it.

Porco’s movements turn sloppier as your pussy flutters repeatedly around him, driving him towards his own release. 

“Y-y-you…need t-t-to…pull out!” you gasp, just as you feel him twitch inside you, seconds away from his own undoing.

“No,” he hisses.

Your eyes widen in shock.

“You’re mine and you’re gonna take it. You said you were sorry, yeah? Said I could do anything I wanted with you, right? Well, I want you to fucking take it.”

And with one final thrust, he spills his load inside you, hot spurts of liquid coating your walls and filling you up. He keeps his cock there, as if he wants to make sure that no drop is spilled, even as he carefully swipes a stray lock of hair away from your face before kissing away your tears.

“You’re mine,” he whispers, his voice so much softer than it was only moments before.

His eyes are no longer cold, his expression no longer hard. No, instead he looks like he is the one begging you.

You send him a teary, but genuine smile.

“I’m yours.”