eren's favorite cam girl rewards him with some attention
insatiable - armin arlert
armin is inexperienced in every way. he’s never been on a date, had his first kiss, has never been touched… armin wants it to be with someone special. someone like you.
insatiable: chapter two
after accepting his request armin stresses all week trying to plan the perfect date for you
insatiable: chapter three {nsfw}
armin gets more than he anticipates when he invites you over to his apartment.
insatiable: chapter four {nsfw}
armin is in desperate need of a distraction from his upcoming assignment. good thing you’re around to help him relax.
insatiable: chapter five {nsfw}
after you attend sunday service with armin you give him some service of your own
insatiable: chapter six {nsfw}
armin can’t pleasure himself as well as you can
insatiable: chapter seven {nsfw }
armin is sorry for being so busy during midterms week and wants to show you how grateful he is to you
insatiable: chapter eight {nsfw}
armin's innocence is slowly fading away. he can barely focus during bible study due to you corrupting his thoughts
insatiable: chapter nine {nsfw}
armin has his first wet dream
insatiable: chapter 10 {nsfw}
armin wants to make you feel good, too
insatiable: chapter 11
armin asks you to spend fall break with him back in his hometown. when asked what he’s grateful for, he has plenty to say
forever yours: chapter 1 - satoru gojo
you and gojo have been separated for six months due to his troubles. you try to juggle co-parenting your young son and moving on, but gojo makes it obvious he’s not ready to give you up on your relationship yet
forever yours: chapter 2
satoru expresses his deep regret and desire to fix things, revealing his struggle with the thought of you moving on.
forever yours: chapter 3
seeing gojo show his true feelings only makes your decision harder
forever yours: chapter 4
you and gojo start to take small steps towards mending your relationship
forever yours: chapter 5
gojo invites you to your first outing together
forever yours: chapter 6
you’re faced with questions about your relationship while trying to celebrate haru’s birthday
forever yours: chapter 7
you decide to linger at gojo's apartment after dropping haru off. your conversation during dinner makes the air between you shift
forever yours: chapter 8
gojo thinks you're ready to take the next steps together
forever yours: chapter 9
there's tension when haru asks if you and gojo are happy together
forever yours: chapter 10
gojo surprises you and haru with a weekend getaway
open arms - nanami kento
after your boyfriend cheats on you, you run to nanami for comfort and he welcomes you with open arms. there's only one problem- you're pregnant
open arms: chapter 2
you feel like a burden, leeching off of kento's kindness. he assures you he's more than happy to care for you
temporary fix - geto suguru
geto - your enemy - somehow gets tangled in your sheets to relieve some tension
wait for you - kento nanami
you never meant to fall for your boss. especially not when that boss is kento nanami. and especially not when you’re already married.
wait for you: chapter 2
you try to keep your personal and professional life separate, but when the walls come crashing down nanami is there to give you subtle reassurance
wait for you: chapter 3
at the gala you’re meant to play the perfect assistant, but you're taking full advantage of the free champagne while your mind keeps betraying you— stuck on the way nanami watches you, and on the little things that feel way too intimate for just a work event
wait for you: chapter 4
you have an uncomfortable conversation with your husband before your work trip and can't help but compare him to your boss
wait for you: chapter 5
spending days with nanami in a foreign country is more tempting than it should be, especially when he can see right through you
tough guy - toji fushiguro
toji struggles with a dark past, forced to fight in order to survive. it’s the one thing he’s ever truly excelled at. it isn’t ideal, but stepping into the ring provides him money and a sense of purpose. as long as he can use it to provide for you, that’s enough for him.
one shots
pound me - levi ackerman {nsfw}
levi is a tender lover, but after a bad week you just want him to dominate you.
stay with me - levi ackerman
you, along with many others, are badly injured on the latest scout mission. levi tries to convince you and himself that you’ll be okay.
enemies with benefits - levi ackerman {nsfw}
unresolved sexual tension between you and levi cause trouble in the workplace
midnight - satoru gojo
gojo's new year's resolution is to tell you how he feels, but people keep stealing you away before he gets a chance
always will be - toji fushiguro (can be read as a pt 2 to this fic!)
you know the key to a man's heart is through his stomach. toji is no exception
truly, madly, deeply - toji fushiguro
since you left him, toji has been indulging in nothing but bad habits. he makes an impulsive decision stumbling home from the bar one night
truly, madly, deeply pt.2 - toji fushiguro
toji didn't realize what he lost until he did
drunk - nanami kento
kento is drunk off the taste of you and he just can't help himself
comfort - nanami kento
yuji has a bad dream and is need of some comfort
headcannons, requests, blurbs & drabbles
aot men at parties - how the aot men act when they join you at a party {slighty nsfw}
how aot men kiss - request: im craving fluff tonight. can you write headcanons for how you think the aot men would kiss you?
no nut november - request: how the aot men act when they aren't allowed to have you {nsfw}
what kind of lover they are - how the aot men are in bed and their kinks {nsfw}
forgotten - toji forgets about your anniversary
sticky! - toji makes you cum over and over, leaving a sticky mess {nsfw}
more to love - toji loves a curvy woman and isn’t shy about it {nsfw}
possesive toji - he doesn't like you all dolled up for other men to see {nsfw}
the jjk men in bed - how the jjk men act in bed {nsfw}
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chapter five summary: spending days with nanami in a foreign country is more tempting than it should be, especially when he can see right through you
warning: angst, crying, mentions on getting wine drunk, blushing, subtle flirting, nanami being an open book, physical touch, longing, tension, other things i don't want to spoil
word count: 5.7k
nanami sits at the table with you to his right, the rest of the shibuya team occupying the remaining seats. with your tablet in hand, your stylus moves with the flow of the conversation as numbers, projections, and expectations are thrown across the table. the executives test him, they always do…pushing timelines, suggesting shortcuts and smiling like they’re offering favors instead of risks and more issues. but true to himself, nanami doesn’t budge. his voice stays even and controlled and you feel the energy of the table shifting with each response. you’ve always admired that—how he never needs to raise his voice to be heard and how he commands without demanding.
when the meeting ends, a cab is already waiting for you. always a gentleman, nanami opens the door for you like it’s second nature. you smooth your skirt after sliding in, your body still humming from the tension of the meeting. there’s a few details that need to be tightened up before the official contract is signed in a few days, but it wasn’t anything either of you couldn’t handle.
for a moment, neither of you speak and the city passes in blurred lights outside the window. it’s a beautiful city – bright, lively, busy and a perfect location for a second office. you glance down at your phone, typing a reminder to adjust details for the contract in your notes app when your phone buzzes.
call me when you’re free
even on a work trip you cannot escape hiromi’s relentless efforts. you lock your phone quickly and let out a sigh without meaning to.
“everything alright?” nanami asks. he knows the answer already, but asks more as a formality. when you look at him he doesn’t make eye contact with you, instead he’s focused on your hands and the way they’ve tightened around your device.
“yes, just tired” you reply. you’re lying – well not entirely. the travel in general has been exhausting, but you’re avoiding confessing about the mental exhaustion you’re feeling at the moment. nanami doesn’t respond. he knows you’re lying, but he won’t force the truth out of you.
neither of you fill the silence for the rest of the ride to the hotel. more than ready for a good night’s rest, your body welcomes the feeling of the soft mattress the second you get to your room. you don’t bother taking off the clothes from tonight just yet, needing a moment of peace and quiet before you get ready for bed.
but it doesn’t come. because again, and again and again, the light from your phone shines too bright in the dark room. cursing under your breath you squint at your screen.
why aren’t you answering me? who are you with?
you don’t respond. you can’t right now. instead, you move through your routine quickly, almost detached as you wash the day away. surprisingly, you fall asleep faster than you expect, with your phone still buzzing somewhere beside you.
—-
at brunch the next morning you recite the plans for the rest of the day, slipping in your usual “sir” between sentences when nanami stops you with a raised hand.
“nanami” he says simply. you blink at him, not quite understanding what he means. “while we are away, drop the title”. you hesitate, brow furrowed. it seems almost unprofessional and too casual.
“…really?”. you swallow. you feel… funny.
“yes” he says, voice calm but firm. he’s studying you, faintly amused at your hesitation. “nanami or kento is fine” he says simply. it almost makes you jump, the thought of calling him kento. you’ve only heard superiors refer to him as this. to nanami, he sees you as his equal, and is treating you as such.
it feels strange, intimate, and almost taboo compared to the professional “mr” that you’re used to. you’ve heard others call him by his name countless times, but this feels… different. he’s never given explicit permission to anyone to drop professionalism, something you know he hates.
“okay… nanami”. the name feels strange coming from you, but you continue on reciting the plans for the day after that. nanami's expression doesn’t change, but you swear there’s a small satisfaction behind his eyes.
the second day passes by quickly, busy with calls and last minute preparations for the big meeting tomorrow.
—
“do you think i’m stupid? don’t embarrass me, y/n”. hiromi’s voice is mean on the other side of the phone. your cheeks flush in embarrassment and rage. you haven’t done anything, you’ve never done anything to make your husband question you like this. in fact, you’re in your room alone, turning in early for the night to get as much rest as you can for tomorrow. your hands shake so badly you almost drop your phone on the carpet. it’s impossible to reason with him, especially when he is already upset.
“hiromi–”. it’s no use, he’s already hung up. you press your heels into your eyes, attempting to keep the tears from falling. you sniffle, feeling the same heartache you’ve felt the last few months.
you lay in bed, tossing the covers over you and hoping to cry yourself to sleep. but sleep doesn’t come. your mind is a frantic loop of hiromi’s accusations, each word echoing in your head under the silence of your room. you try to count sheep, but your mind doesn’t focus for long enough to remember the number you left off at. instead, you stare at the unfamiliar shadows cast by the streetlights on the ceiling, feeling incredibly sad. the hotel room feels cold and vast—a reminder that you are miles away from anything that feels like home, yet trapped with a version of home you no longer recognize.
you could walk the hallways to tire yourself out, but it wouldn’t be very smart to do in a city you’re unfamiliar with. and you don’t think nanami would agree with that risk.
nanami
before you can stop yourself, you’re in the hallway. your feet are moving faster than your thoughts, driven by a sudden and desperate need to be near someone who makes you feel safe. you’re halfway to his room before the impulse even registers. you need comfort. you need silence that isn’t suffocating. you need him.
but the moment your knuckles rap against the heavy wood of his door, the desperation curdles into immediate, rising panic. what am i doing? you look down at yourself. it’s late, you’re in your pajamas, your face is blotchy from crying, and you’re standing at your boss’s door like a hurt child. this is unprofessional. the lock clicks before you have a chance to change your mind.
nanami tie is loose, dress shirt still on and eyes tired. he had some virtual calls that required his attention until late, pushing back the inevitable moment he could finally unwind. he doesn’t look his usual prim and proper self. he looks soft, and comforting—exactly what you need in a moment like this. it’s not the version of him you know, but is a precious, rare glimpse of kento.
nanami’s eyes harden when they find your glassy ones, instantly dismissing the inappropriateness of the hour and the blurring line between boss and confidant. he doesn't need words; seeing the emotion behind your eyes that drove you to his door is enough. his expression shifts from professional to protective, and he doesn’t make you wait long, silently stepping to the side to welcome you in
his room is much different than yours – not just a room, but a suite with a small kitchenette, a king-sized bed and a balcony. it’s much more inviting and feels worlds away from the cold, isolating walls of your own room. you take a seat at the table, trying to wrap your head around the night as you desperately attempt to control your frantic thoughts. you look down at your hands as you fidget, turning the ring on your finger— a painful reminder of the vows that make this whole situation feel wrong. silent tears occasionally slip past your cheeks, paired with soft sniffles.
“do you want to talk about it?” nanami’s voice breaks you from your trance. you look up, and he’s holding out a cup of hot tea. his eyes bore into yours and it’s almost too much to handle because of the way he’s looking at you – not casually, not professionally, but carefully. as if you’re fragile and he needs to take care of you.
you take the mug, your cold fingers brushing against his warm ones for a second. his touch is a reminder of everything you aren’t supposed to want. you set the tea on the table, watching the ripples in the liquid rather than meeting his gaze again. you want to let him in. you want to lean into his protectiveness, but the band on your finger feels like lead, making this comfort feel like a betrayal.
“just… couldn’t sleep” you murmur. you hate the dishonesty, especially with him, but you can’t bring yourself to voice the ugly details of hiromi’s accusations or the ache in your chest. you see the tightening of nanami’s jaw. he knows you’re lying. of course he does, but he doesn’t call you out. he understands in his own way that it’s not something to discuss at the moment. instead of replying, nanami makes his way to his suitcase to pick out his neatly folded pajamas before making his way to the bathroom.
by the time he returns your tea is gone, warming you up and lifting your spirits a bit. nanami has changed into pajama bottoms and a blue t-shirt, his glasses sliding slightly down the bridge of his nose. his always perfectly styled hair lacks the gel necessary to keep it in place, moving along with him at every step. he looks cozy and it makes you feel all the more guilty.
“thank you for the tea” you say. nanami nods and offers you a more comfortable spot on the couch. he hands you the throw blanket, wanting you to be comfortable. and you thank him again. nanami hands you the remote, letting you surf through the channels on his tv. he clicks on the small desk lamp on the table next to him. you can see the tiredness behind his eyes as he sits on the opposite side of the couch. even after the long day, his cologne still lingers. he picks up a book from the table, flipping to where he left off and begins reading.
he’s quiet, letting you have as much time as you need to calm yourself down from what was tormenting you. he’s perfectly understanding, and kind and gentlemanly and you don’t deserve him. both as a boss and as a source of comfort.
you break the silence, needing to give him an out. “i can head back. you don’t have to stay up for me” you offer. nanami doesn’t seem fazed by it.
he doesn’t look up right away. instead, he finishes the line he’s reading, turns the page and lets out a simple “you need company”.
that phrase unravels you entirely. you want to cry again, not out of sadness, but from the sudden, overwhelming appreciation for a man who sees exactly what you need and provides it without question. and you do cry a little bit, smiling to yourself and wiping away stray tears as you watch the mind-numbing program. he didn't say rest. he didn't say sleep. he said company. and that’s exactly what you need.
you’re forgetting that working with nanami all this time has made him able to read you just as well as the book he has in his hands now.
it takes a while, but eventually sleep starts to win. your eyes flutter open, and you realize the show’s changed at some point. but nanami, true to his word, is still sitting on the other side of the couch, reading silently and pretending he wasn’t watching you while you were asleep.
—
the trip’s biggest meeting goes… strangely well. the clients are relaxed, jokes are made, a partner calls nanami “old-fashioned” with a grin, suggesting he should loosen up. nanami’s smile is polite but cold. you can tell he dislikes the shift in professionalism.
with each slide deck, projection and financial component, you are flawless. nanami watches from the side, nodding in approval when your input nudges the discussion in the right direction. he notices the small smile you give when you realize the meeting is going well. it’s soft, and he wishes he could see it without restriction more often. he’s proud to have a partner like you supporting him. it’s a complete 180 from the night before, which neither of you have brought up.
and finally, after months of hard work and late nights, the team marks their signatures on the dotted line. finally, what you both have been working so hard for is complete. the shibuya sector of nanami industries is confirmed.
everyone stands, firmly shaking hands while others hug. nanami isn’t much of a hugger, making a point to keep his arm extended to everyone and tightly smiling. on the other hand, you don’t mind, taking a handshake or hug from whoever offers one.
there’s no one left, and you turn to nanami at the same time he turns to you. his arm is already at his side, dropping the barrier, and letting you decide what’s best in this situation. maybe it’s the overwhelming feeling of relief of the successful deal, or maybe it’s the emotions resurfacing from the night before, but you lean in, standing on your tiptoes and bringing him in for a hug.
“congratulations, nanami” you say softly.
he’s much taller than you, and warm, and he smells good, and this feels right, but it shouldn’t. and soon enough, nanami stops hesitating. his hands support your mid back and his chin wrests on your shoulder. you can feel with each passing moment the tension in his shoulders ebbing away. he even takes in a deep breath, allowing himself to relax into you.
this is not a professional hug. but still, you close your eyes, smiling, proud of the sacrifices you both had made in the last few months, the reality settling in that the company – and man – you’re proud to work for is expanding.
“same to you” he says. his voice doesn’t carry its usual bass. it’s soft, like he can finally let go of the stress he’s been under. and his lips are so close to your ear. you can feel your skin cover itself in goosebumps.
nanami is first to pull away. hesitantly, but he does. and when you return to your normal stance there’s a blush warming your cheeks.
one of your newest partners suggests a round of celebratory drinks. nanami declines smoothly.
“we have another engagement” your brows furrow for half a second, thinking over the itinerary. no you don’t. this was the last meeting of the week. you almost blow nanami’s cover, but decide not to question it until you’re out of earshot.
—
nanami takes you somewhere quiet. not a bar or a networking event, he takes you to a nice restaurant with live music playing softly in the background. it’s beautiful. it’s too expensive to list prices, and definitely not a place you would normally attend. thankfully, you’re appropriately dressed from your earlier meeting.
when you arrive, a table is already waiting for you. nanami pulls your chair for you without thinking. you thank him, still not quite sure what this is about, but grateful for the action.
the dim lighting doesn’t help - nanami looks even more handsome than usual. it’s intimate in a way that makes you feel butterflies. this isn’t work. it definitely doesn’t feel like work. it’s just him, watching you with the analytical gaze you’re familiar with that feels like it’s stripping away every lie you’ve ever told yourself.
when the waiter arrives, he places a glass of wine in front of you before you have a chance to glance at the menu. you look up in surprise, and nanami simply gives you an encouraging nod. he remembered your preference from the gala— a detail so small, but so thoughtful.
while you scan the menu, nanami orders appetizers for the table. everything sounds amazing, but incredibly expensive – too expensive for a celebratory meal, and far too intimate for a boss and his assistant.
you feel the unwelcome buzz in your bag. hiromi hasn’t tried to apologize to you, but a part of you thinks he may try to make the situation right after last night. you hesitate before pulling it out. you shouldn’t, but you do.
pick up the phone. now.
your fingers tighten around it. it’s not the warmth you wished to be met with. it’s demanding, and something you can’t handle right now. when you look up nanami is already watching you. his jaw tightens with a small muscle twitch that he actively has to reset before you notice.
“is everything alright?” he asks. his tone is different now
“yes”. you’re lying to him again
the waiter returns, hovering politely. nanami offers for you to go first before ordering himself. and in the short interaction, he can feel the vibration of your phone as it buzzes against the table. your husband calls twice. nanami notices.
“and another glass for her” he says. the waiter nods and wanders off and you take a healthy sip of your wine.
“i thought you didn’t like drinking while working” you say, a bit of a tease at the last time there was alcohol offered at a work event. nanami hums quietly, looking at you so intensely it makes you want to look away. it’s the same searing gaze he gave you at the gala that sparked that initial, slightly inappropriate reaction inside of you. you swear his hazel eyes, so intense, can see through you.
“we aren’t working” he says simply. it feels like the gala all over again— alcohol in your system, the way his attention lingered too long, being seen in a way you hadn’t been in a long time. it’s dangerously and messily flattering, and worse—you don’t remember the last time hiromi made you feel anything like this.
“oh. well…aren’t you having one?”. your throat feels dry and you coat it with another long sip. he tilts his head slightly, expression unreadable.
“i drink more than i should, already” he admits, voice low.
your eyes widen. “you’re… a heavy drinker?”. it’s odd imagining him drunk. he’s so stoic and obsessed with control that it almost seems impossible for him to like that sort of feeling.
he lets a small exhale escape.“yes” he admits. “but i don’t need it now. you do” he says as the waiter returns with your drink refreshed. it’s something you wouldn’t normally allow yourself so soon, especially in front of nanami, but he’s right. you do need this.
after a pause, his voice is soft, “tell me about you”. for as long as you have worked with nanami there weren’t many deep conversations you had with him. you know a lot about his preferences, and how he operates, but not much about his personal life.
you begin slowly, admitting your favorite streets in the city, cafés you linger in, what makes you you. he’s patient, silent and nonjudgmental as you spill about yourself – which seems to be a lot to ask for these days.
after a moment, you whisper, “…it feels… strange to talk about myself like this”. you take another sip and feel some of the tension ease from your chest. across the table nanami watches you closely, noticing the way your shoulders finally relax and how the tension you’ve carried the last 24 hours eases.
“i will tell you anything, if you ask” he offers.
you feel the flush creep into your cheeks. it seems far too tempting. “anything?”. he nods.
your fingers tighten slightly around your glass, the warmth of the drink loosening some of your tension. “…do you like your job?”. it’s a question to test the waters, but one you’ve thought about a few times since you started working for him.
nanami lets out a quiet exhale. “i do, mostly. i find satisfaction in the work, the control, and in solving problems, but…” he leans back slightly, hands folded. “...it’s not everything. not the measure of a person’s life, and not enough on its own”. you’ve always known nanami to be a perfectionist. he’d stay late at night to make sure a task or document is completed correctly, even though staying a minute past 5 o’clock is his biggest pet peeve. you always imagined he was obsessed. it’s refreshing to hear that is not the case.
“and… what about outside work? what do you do?”.
“simple things” he says after a pause. “going on walks, reading, eating a good meal i can take my time over…”. with each word you imagine what nanami must be like enjoying his free time on the weekends.
“and your vices?” you ask, voice softer now.
“discipline can be a vice” he says. “obsession with order and control. and drinking, of course, but it’s one i manage”. the restaurant buzzes around you as you think over his answer. you lean forward slightly, emboldened by both the alcohol in your system and the way he’s letting you lead the conversation.
“can i ask… why you drink so much?”. nanami hums at the question, thinking for a moment.
“it started as a way to manage pressure and expectations”. he pauses again, considering how much he truly wants to get into the weeds of his personal life. “it became a habit, and sometimes a necessity. but always a choice”. it didn’t occur to you the pressure that nanami had to succeed. he had started in this business much younger than most and there were a lot of unknown variables that required his attention. it makes sense for him to try to find an outlet.
you nod slowly, absorbing his honesty. “and… your drink of choice?”
“whiskey” he says after another brief pause. “neat. always neat”
you raise your eyebrows slightly, curiosity softening your tension. “and… when you started… was it just social, or...”. nanami lets out a small chuckle, noticing how interested you are in this topic.
“no, never social” he says simply. it’s shocking to hear the man you know to live by the clock and smallest imperfections admitting to a habit that thrives on the loss of control. nanami spares you the details – the times he’s been so frustrated with work he’s considered calling off the whole thing, pouring another drink before he realizes he’s finished the bottle already, and being a completely unrecognizable mess to anyone he knows professionally. it’s taken a lot of hard work to reach where he is now. he manages his drinking best by not indulging at all, most days. because once he starts, it’s hard to stop.
“and tonight” you ask softly, “you’re not drinking?”
“no” he shakes his head, not allowing himself to entertain the idea. “not in front of you. you’re more important than any drink”. you don’t respond right away. because that didn’t sound professional. that didn’t sound like something your boss should say. the blush warming your cheeks isn't just from the wine; it's a frantic, internal heat that is rapidly rising. you can’t help but let out a small, incredulous laugh. you're beyond flattered. and you can’t tell if what nanami said is the truth, or flirtation.
or both.
dinner eventually ends. you don’t mean to linger in the restaurant. but the music softened a while ago and the staff is almost done clearing tables. and still, neither of you want to leave.
nanami notices your unsteadiness when you eventually rise, a subtle sway that he catches instantly. before you can reach out to steady yourself, he offers his arm out to you. it’s just as big and supportive as it was the last time he supported you. you take it, fingers curling securely around the muscle of his bicep as he walks you both back to your hotel. instinctively, you lean your temple against his shoulder, burying yourself in the expensive, familiar scent of him. you don't want to let go. you don’t want the night to end.
the silence is comfortable when you finally step into the elevator together. your reflection stares back at you from the mirrored wall. nanami’s broad shoulders look so strong as you stand close together. you trace his profile in the glass, studying the strong line of his jaw and his strong nose and the gentleness of him that others don’t get to see.
he’s confident in all the spaces where you feel overwhelmed. he balances you out, your perfect pair.
the ride up is peaceful but feels too short, and soon enough you will unfortunately have to go your separate ways. nanami stops outside your room first, standing close enough that you feel his warmth through his suit jacket. you reach into your purse, pushing past the device you’ve grown to hate and fumbling for your keycard. you’re clumsy, not quite able to fit the card in its slot.
“here” nanami offers. his voice is low and right next to your ear, sending a shiver down your spine. before you can react, his large hand swallows yours, guiding the card into the slot. it’s thick, strong and veiny and the contact is unnecessary but too brief at the same time. nanami pushes the card with you until the light turns green and you hear the lock undo. the click is quiet against your racing heartbeat.
you push yourself to say goodnight first, telling yourself to not look up at him and possibly get lost in the dangerous depth of his eyes, potentially risking doing something you might regret in the morning. he doesn’t respond immediately, and the silence makes you worry. when you look up. there’s a deep crease between his brows that only appears when he is thinking too much.
“is everything alright, kento?” you ask quietly. it’s a question he’s asked you every time he’s known something is off. his name sounds so different, but so nice coming from you. he wants to melt and to ask you to say it again. nanami looks at you, really looks at you, taking in the expression on your face. he sees his eager assistant, perfect at her job, yet heartbreakingly too damn good for her awful husband. selfishly, he wants to tell you every thought that he’s kept in the back of his mind since the day he hired you. but he decides against it. instead, nanami takes a breath, and lets out a sigh, almost annoyed at the intensity of the thought that crossed his mind.
“watching you shrink under someone else’s insecurity is… unacceptable to me.” his expression is serious, the line of his mouth thin. you open your mouth to speak, but he stops you before you can lie to him again.
“you’re unhappy” he confronts. he’s not accusatory, but refuses to let you suffer in silence any longer. heat floods your face because you know he’s right. he’s been able to see through your lies for a while, now. you haven’t been happy in a long time.
“i don’t know how to fix it.” you whisper. it’s the first time you’re admitting it out loud – that your marriage isn’t picture perfect and may be past the point of return. it’s a hard truth to face, but cathartic at the same time.
you step closer without realizing you’ve done it. his hand lifts—like he’s about to touch you, fingers curling slightly before lowering again. you’re married. he’s your boss.
his eyes plead with you to read between the lines, to see the confession buried beneath his words. “you’re a smart girl” nanami praises. your pupils dilate and your heart pounds impossibly faster as the space between you shrinks to inches. you can feel the warmth of him even closer now and the tension is unbearable. you think about your separate hotel rooms. about the vows waiting for you at home. about the peace you feel standing here under lights with a man who has never once made you feel less than.
you want him – really want him in the way you’ve been trying to convince yourself you don’t. because it’s wrong. because he’s your boss. and because you’re married.
“do not mistake my restraint for indifference” he says quietly. and that confirms it for you. his eyes drop to your mouth for half a second before returning to your eyes.
“tomorrow will be long” he says, encouraging you to enter your room. “get some rest” he says gently, choosing discipline and professionalism over impulse. you nod. your throat is dry. and before either of you can do something you might regret you slip into your room. the door clicks shut. on the other side, nanami stands there for a long time before heading to his own room.
—-
the seats on the flight home are the same, but you feel closer in every way. your thoughts are too confusing to comprehend your fear of flying, and you almost convince yourself that you didn't have a moment in the hallway – that nanami didn’t confess anything to you and you had just made it all up. because it’s easier that way than to face the realization that you’re emotionally attached to another man.
you check your phone once the plane lands. dozens of messages. each one more angry, accusatory and demanding than the last. your chest feels hollow, nanami notices the way your shoulders fold inward. and everything he hates to see you experience has returned.
you don’t look at him unless it’s necessary. because if you do, you’ll remember the peace of his suite, the scent of his cologne, and the way he made you feel like you were enough — exactly as you are.
ijichi picks you both up from the airport. the car pulls away and city lights blur past the window. you rest your head against the glass, fingers curled loosely in your lap, watching the city pass by. you haven’t said much since last night. neither of you mention how close you came to… something. but everything feels different. the life waiting for you outside this trip — your husband, the expectations, the obligations — feels wrong. because you were reminded what it feels like to be fully appreciated with someone who truly sees you.
when you arrive, nanami steps out to open your door. and before you can make a run for it, he stops you with a firm hand on your arm.
“i will wait for you”. you freeze. you’ve almost been avoiding him all day, anxiety invading your mind about your actions.
“w-what?” your voice stutters. he doesn't let the hesitation or the flicker of fear in your eyes distract him. he sees right through your panic, his gaze piercing and honest, and repeats himself.
“for you to choose what is best for you,” he replies. even with the depth of his feelings for you, nanami is letting you have absolute control of the situation. if you choose your husband, he will accept it with the same stoicism he applies to everything else. if you prioritize yourself, he will respect it. “i won’t interfere in your marriage,” he promises. “i have patience. don’t think it’s an absence of feeling.”
absence of feeling. a double confirmation that the longing you felt wasn’t just a reaction from the wine. it wasn't just in your head. it was real, and it was shared.
he’s still touching you, looking at you like that—like you are the most precious, most complicated thing in the world to him. the sincerity in his hazel eyes is almost unbearable.
“nanam–”
“don’t answer now” he interrupts, his voice cutting through your panic. he’s not looking for confirmation or denial right now. he knows your world is already fragile enough. the last thing he wants to do is scare you away or force a decision made in desperation. each choice demands a sacrifice you aren’t sure you’re brave enough to make, but you do feel a terrifying sense of possibility
if you choose to leave hiromi, the pain will be unimaginable. to leave is to abandon the vows you made and face the aftermath that would surely follow. it means the death of the life you thought you were building.
and then there is nanami. he represents a promise of eventual happiness that feels like a light at the end of a long, dark tunnel. with him, the future wouldn't be a cycle of exhaustion and apologies. the cost of leaving is everything you have, but the reward is finally finding yourself again.
the third option, to choose yourself, might be the scariest one. it would mean leaving hiromi, not to fall into the arms of another man, but to support yourself in ways you haven’t in a long time. you could walk away from the toxicity of your marriage, but it would mean having to draw a hard line with nanami. your job is important to you, and it’s the one thing you still have control over. getting into a messy situation as lovers would surely come back to bite you later.
nanami doesn’t let you stew in your thoughts for long. “have a good night” he says, gently squeezing your arm before letting go. you stand there for a moment, thinking about all the possibilities of what your life could be from this point on, before forcing your feet to move in the direction of your home. you have a lot to think about and you spend the rest of the weekend trying to figure out how you got to this point.
୨ৎ your bf shiu refuses to eat you out, so toji shows him how its done ! (repost)
toji only swung by for a drink. nothing serious — he dropped onto your couch with that easy swagger, cracking some joke about women these days expecting a man to actually know what he’s doing.
“c’mon,” he said, halfway through his beer, “if you’re not eating pussy? ha! you’re not even fuckin’.”
it was supposed to be harmless banter, but shiu had just… scoffed. shrugged. muttered, “i never cared for it.”
the air went sharp. your eyes darted to your boyfriend, shiu, then down at your lap, embarrassment burning. you thought maybe the topic would pass — but toji’s head snapped around so fast you swore he’d pull a muscle.
"…so, toji," you start, trying to steer the conversation away from your very frustrating sex life. "how's megu—"
“you what?” he barked a laugh, grinning like he’d caught shiu with his pants down. “you’ve got her in your bed and you don’t go down? you’re kidding me.”
shiu’s jaw ticked. “drop it.”
“nah, fuck that,” toji snorted, setting the bottle down with a clink. “i gotta see this. you’re telling me you're walking around with a woman this pretty—” his eyes slid lazily to you, tongue dragging across his teeth, “—and you haven’t even tasted her?”
shiu didn’t answer. the silence was answer enough.
and that’s how you ended up here: shiu standing stiff by the wall, brows furrowed deep, cigarette half-smoked, while toji’s on his knees between your thighs, holding them apart like they belong to him.
“he's pathetic, ma” toji mutters again, breath hot against your pussy, "i'll make you feel so good, just forget about that asshole, yeah?" he stares at your folds in awe before his tongue dives in.
the first lick is filthy — a fat stripe from hole to clit, ending in a sloppy kiss. he groans like he’s been starving, mouthing at you, sucking your clit between his lips until your hips twitch off the bed.
“ahh—f-fuck—!” you cry, hands flying to the sheets.
he pulls back just long enough to spit right on your cunt, thick and wet, watching his saliva drip before smearing it in with the flat of his tongue. your thighs tremble as he tongue-fucks you, the obscene squelch of spit and slick filling the room.
“listen to her,” he says against you, words muffled by your cunt. “hear how wet she is for me already? that’s after, what, two minutes? and you’ve been ignoring this pussy for months?”
shiu exhales smoke slow, but his shoulders are tight, brows furrowed, jaw clenched like a vice. his hand has drifted — shamefully, almost angrily — to the front of his slacks, palming the hard outline of his cock.
“shut your fucking mouth,” he growls, voice low and brittle.
“nah,” toji chuckles, dragging two fingers through your slick and holding them up, strings of it shining in the dim light. he sucks them into his mouth with a loud pop, then dives back in, tongue flicking your clit quick and mean.
“ohh—god, please, more!” your voice cracks, hips grinding helplessly against his face.
toji growls, gripping your thighs tight. he spits again, watching it drool over your folds, then shoves two thick fingers inside you, pumping hard. his mouth latches onto your clit again, sucking, tongue circling, until your vision goes white.
he glances up at shiu, chin and lips smeared shiny. “you see this? she’s about to cum just from my tongue. you ever make her this loud, huh?”
shiu’s teeth grind audibly, glare scorching, but his hand moves faster against his bulge. “fuck you,” he mutters, ragged.
“nah,” toji groans, curling his fingers inside you. “i'd rather fuck her.” he presses his tongue flat to your hole and hums, the vibration ripping a whine out of you. your whole body arches, cunt gushing around his fingers as you cum, sobbing his name.
then he finally pulls back, lips glistening, chin smeared with your juice, tongue swiping along it slowly. he licks his lips, dragging the string of your slick across his mouth, and just stares at you — eyes dark, grin sharp, totally fucking satisfied with the mess he made.
“fuck,” he murmurs, voice low and filthy. “look at you. all over my mouth. all over my fingers. god, i could do that forever.”
you collapse back on the sheets, trembling, utterly wrecked, while shiu stands there — eyebrows knitted, jaw tight, chest rising fast, hand still pressed to his lap, caught between frustration, jealousy, and undeniable arousal.
toji smirks up at him, still kneeling between your ruined thighs. “look at you. hard just watching me eat what’s yours. pathetic. you should thank me, really. i’m just taking care of your girl.”
shiu exhales smoke through his nose, dark eyes darting between you and toji, lips pressed tight, jaw flexing. then, suddenly, his chest tenses and his hand stops mid-stroke.
“move over, fushiguro.” he growls, voice low, dangerous, heated. “i’m not just gonna sit here anymore and watch you get all the fun."
it's safe to say, none of you were able to get any sleep that night. for good reason!
Why does your new professor sound just like the guy you touch yourself to every night?
ASMRStreamerProf!Gojo x FanStudent!reader
cw: fem!reader, SMUT, loooots of dirty talk (its kinda his job), college student reader, professor gojo, older gojo(maybe like late 20s and reader is early 20s), masturbation, teasing, degrading/praising, JOI (hihi), lots of whimpering groaning moaning, cursing, blackmail (gone wrong), noot proofread
"My pretty girl, I've missed you."
A deep male voice flooded your ears, headphones turned up to the max volume.
Your favourite ASMR streamer was live again at the same time every other day. Like clockwork.
You joined the stream, the screen blank with a small watermark at the bottom
sexeyes
Get it? sexeyes instead of sixeyes, yeah? okay.
You don't know why, but this was more addictive and at least ten times more pleasurable than watching regular porn.
His voice felt like he was right there, guiding you to a perfect orgasm- we haven't gotten to that yet.
After a long day of sitting in hour-long lectures and stressing about assignments... You were finally tucked under your covers, buried in pillows with the lights turned off. Your phone was lying on the one beside you while you lay flat on your back, eyes shut, while imagining the perfect man speaking to you.
You were gnawing on your bottom lip already, impatiently waiting for him to start the good part.
"I bet you've had a tiring day, hmm?"
"It's okay... i'm here now. Want me to take care of you, baby?"
You couldn't help but nod your head, fingers already slipping underneath your shirt, tracing soft swirls on your stomach.
"Such a naughty girl, I bet you're already thinking about touching yourself."
Your breath hitched, it was as if he were speaking to you and you alone, not to the thousands of listeners. And he somehow read the minds of all of them.
"Alright then... be a good girl and start with your pretty nipples. You can do that for me, yeah? I want you to play with them, make them nice and sensitive."
You obeyed with no thought, hands trailing up from your stomach to your ribs, finally reaching your tits- fingers rubbing at the flaccid buds.
You let out a small whimper, feeling them harden from the touch.
"You're being so good... a good little slut, yeah? Don't be shy, let me hear your sweet sounds."
You swore you could hear fabric shifting, as if he was either pushing his own clothes up or down to reveal skin. This was your favourite part, getting to listen to the streamer masturbate together with you.
His breathing had gotten a bit more laboured. Or maybe you were imagining things.
"Mmhmm... feels good? Be good and guide a hand down... down... dooowwnn... You know where it should be."
Down it went, one still playing with your own nipple while the other reached down between your thighs, your palm pressing over your needy cunt. The feeling of a wet spot forming on the cotton fabric of your panties made your fingers tremble.
"Wet already?"
You could hear him quietly chuckling, shifting a bit closer to the microphone.
"Touch yourself through your cute panties. I know you want to, sweetheart."
You did exactly that, fingers pressing riggght where you knew your clit was. Your hips shifted from the pressure already, eyelids squeezing shut.
"That's it, suuuch a good girl for me."
"Let me take care of you, listen to my voice, yeah?"
You followed his instructions, quietly moaning once he told you to tease yourself and push a finger inside.
"I bet if they were mine, it'd feel much better. I'd love to play with you, angel."
"Just the thought is making me hard... want me to do it together with you?"
You nodded your head again, sinking the finger deeper, all the way down to the knuckle. "Yes... please." You didn't mean to say it out loud.
"Cmon, add another, my sweet girl. Your pretty pussy can take it, yeah?"
You whined, starting to push a second finger inside.
The sound of him heavily breathing and the shlick shlick sound of him starting to jerk off spurred you even more.
"So pretty... all mine, right? You'd never let anyone else talk to you like this, hm?"
"Feels sooo good. I have my hand wrapped around my dick... going at the same pace as you, baby."
"In... out... in... haah... out..."
Your hand moved at his guidance, your chest heaving a bit, and your skin was warmer, that knot in your stomach starting to tighten.
"Gonna cum, my pretty girl?"
"Cmon, cum for me. Be a good girl... let me hear you."
"Shit- I'm so close... let's do it together, okay?"
Your eyes behind your eyelids tried to roll back, fingers curling up against a mushy spot that made your pussy flutter and pulse around them.
A loud grunt and moans fell from his lips, and into your headphones, the wet sound of him spreading his cum over his cock was the last thing you heard before the stream ended.
You didn't even bother washing your hand or cleaning up the mess between your thighs.
You'd just take a shower in the morning.
You were sitting in your usual seat, in the second row from the front. Yes, you were one of those students.
You were talking with some friends, discussing what tung tung tung sahur would sound like in bed- but the lecture hall got quiet for some reason, making you shut up.
The doors had opened and a white-haired, well-dressed, in some expensive suit and tie, new professor had came in. He looked young, definitely hiding a shit ton of muscle underneath those clothes…
Your attention went to his eyes, and that cocky grin he wore while walking down to the desk, turning on the projector, and setting up a laptop to start teaching.
“Goood morning, I’m this course's new prof!” He beamed with a bit too much energy for 9 in the morning.
Hold on.
You felt like you had heard him somewhere. Huh. Maybe he had one of those study YouTube channels where he made guides, and you had watched one…
“My name is Satoru Gojo, but you can call me Mr. Gojo.”
Mr. Gojo, my ass.
The lesson droned on, he wasn’t bad at teaching, but for some reason, you really couldn’t focus. At all.
You tried to write down notes, but your gaze kept flicking to him leaning against the desk while waving a hand around to explain a slide.
There was something about his voice that was making you falter.
You hadn’t even noticed how bad your cunt was aching, too busy trying to focus.
Wait.
Satoru said something familiar.
“Okay, so let’s all do this together, yeah?”
That did it.
Your face heated up, your thighs gravitated together. The pencil in your hand almost snapped.
SEXEYES? THE MAN YOU’VE BEEN CUMMING TOGETHER WITH?
oh god
oh dear god
You started to hear it clearly, that teasing tone. His voice. It all clicked.
And you were lost.
Your lips were agape like a fish’s, eyes big and pupils blown wide while staring at him from your seat.
“Miss, are you alright? You look like you’ve seen a ghost.” Satoru smiled at you from the desk, standing up straight.
The people and your friends around you chuckled. You fixed your face and shook your head, quickly looking down and scribbling in your notebook.
A week had passed like this. A tortorous week.
You were unable to concentrate in classes. You felt too worked up to even try to write what was in the slides.
At home, it was worse, unable to even look through the study guides.
His streams. You needed to listen to all the videos, clips- you could attach the voice to his face.
Satoru. It was him. You could see it so clearly in your imagination. His moans, how he spoke to you, what he'd look like jerking off.
Safe to say, when you had your first exam in his class.
You flunked it.
You did the only thing you could think of to fix this.
It was after hours, Satoru was in his office, looking trough what he had to do for tomorrows students.
knock knock knock !
"Yes, come in." His voice called. It made you shiver.
The door creaked open and you stepped inside, looking determined.
Gojo lit up, giving you a small grin before leaning back into the leather rolly chair. "Ah, my star student. Are you here about that grade? i promise, everything is alright and the next one will go bet-"
"No, i know the next one will go better. " You pouted a bit, standing in front of his desk, placing your phone down on it.
Your screen was opened on a specific website. His account's homepage open.
sexeyes.
Satoru faltered a bit, looking at what you were showing him.
But he just softly laughed, lightly sliding the device back over to you.
"I see, is this why you have troubles focusing in my class, sweetheart?"
You could feel the tips of your ears turning red, snatching it back.
"What? No! I know that that's you- i want a good score for the next exam!"
He tilted his head, blue irises almost mocking you while tilting his head.
"Is that all you want?"
You don't know who was more stupid. You asking to join him on a livestream. Or him agreeing and taking a student to his apartment.
You were all shy now, the attempted blackmailing hadn't even scared him one bit.
Now you were sat on the corner of his lush bed, watching your new professor set up a few microphones around it, tie loose and white shirt already unbuttoned and a small smile on his pretty lips.
"Don't be nervous. You've probably listened to me do this hundreds of times." He teased, leaning down and brushing some hair out of your eyes.
Stream: start
"Welcome back, my angels. Today we have a guest. Isn't that right, sweetheart?"
You were sat on his thighs, back flush against his chest, hands already running up and down your sides.
Something hard was already settling underneath you.
"Cmon, you're a big girl. Say hello." he encouraged you by grinding his thigh up, shifting so it was slotted between yours. The sound you made was pitiful.
"Hi..." You murmured.
You were glad he never filmed but only recorded.
But you could see the chat flowing past on the corner of one monitor. The audience getting excited for this.
It was just like listening to his voice... but now he was touching you the same way too.
Describing everything to the audience.
"If i touch you here... aww, it's okay. No need to shake so much, baby."
"Look at you... riding my thigh so pretty. Does it feel better if i do thisss?"
"Such a sweet pussy, look at it. It's all wet because of me. Want me to finger you, darling?"
"Such a sweetheart, drooling all over my fingers. Cmon, keep sucking."
"Lean back for me, yeah... that's it, such a pretty little slut."
"Look how big i am... is it even going to fit? You look scared. Come here, i'll help you calm down. Open your mouth again."
"You take me so well... do you feel how deep inside i am, my angel?"
You barely spoke, too worried about how you'd sound. But he got you to make the lewdest sounds just with a few words.
The sound of his hips driving into yours and skin meeting skin was picked up by the microphones.
The wet squelch of his fat cock bullying your drooly pussy and the groans of him sucking on you nipple were all recorded.
Not to mention the whimper and deep groan from you both at the end when two releases mixed inside of a stuffed, very happy pussy.
The livestream had the most views he had ever received.
And you got the highest grade in the course.
No need to spend your nights listening to his voice through headphones anymore when you could just ask for another credit boost and a cameo.
Yoon's notes: EEKKK
For my mistress: @liahcharms I HOPE YOU LIKE ITTT <333
art: @/demaymayart on ig, @/smokeigheh on twt, @/zeilorene on ig
sorry for the spam but wait for you has me in a chokehold! reread it during a lecture yesterday! can’t wait (no pun intended😭) for the next part. absolutely in love with how you write nanami!
i’ve seen you 🙈🙈 thank you for your support!!! the next chapter is much longer than the others so far and it’s taking me a bit longer to write
i’m very picky on how i write nanami and i want to make sure i’m not rushing the story too much. but i have loved writing it so far, thank you so much for your comment! it’s really motivating🥹🥹
—
for anyone who would like to read, here is the wait for you summary
you never meant to fall for your boss. especially not when that boss is kento nanami. and especially not when you’re already married.
Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
✓ Live Streaming✓ Interactive Chat✓ Private Shows✓ HD Quality✓ Free Actions
Free to watch • No registration required • HD streaming
authors note: y/n is written to be raceless despite being influenced by the picture! wish i had posted this during coachella weekend but i didn’t have the time ugh (you can tell this was rushed)
synopsis: after eren pulls y/n on stage at coachella, he refuses to let her disappear when the show’s over
content warnings: singer!eren, influencer!y/n, on stage flirting, on stage touching, teasing, slightly leaning towards dub con, kissing, p in v sex, protected sex, semi public sex, rough sex, slight degradation, praise, dom!eren
"Hope everyone's having a good night, tonight." The large, bright lights on the stage where the brunette stood cascaded over you as they shone. The crowd screamed, only having gotten louder since the beginning of the set. "Before I have to leave, there's just one more song I'd like to perform."
You cheered in excitement, as you had with all of the previous songs. After all, it was Jaegerchella. Despite the thick, evening, dessert air and the multiple sweaty hugs you had given out to your followers that night, you couldn't bring yourself to stop prancing excitedly during the performance. It was Eren Jaeger's set, of course you were going to put your all into it. You were ready to make the last day of Coachella a night to remember. If you were a little sweaty, so be it.
Singing in excitement, you placed your phone away and swayed. Your eyes were glued to the sexy man before you. The way his hair rolled down to his shoulders, having started off in a man bun and eventually falling loose and comfortably down; the teasing flapping of the collar of his button up shirt, occasionally exposing a little more than you could truly handle, that playful smirk on his face coupled with those teasing eyes as they met yours.
Wait.
His eyes had just met yours.
And, as you continued the eye contact, you couldn't help but slowly sink your teeth into your bottom lip because, fuck, you didn't know what else to do.
The two of you stayed like that for a period of time that you truly couldn't conceptualise what with the way your skin burned. Suddenly, you no longer felt the crowd push up against you, you no longer heard the screams and chants, you no longer saw any heads bobbing into your view. Now, it was just you and Eren and, fuck, you couldn't look away.
His eyes were first to remove themselves. He glanced over the rest of the crowd, continuing to sing as his set neared its end. He was passionate, serious and just so fucking striking. Even the way his hand gripped onto the mic stand in front of him with such strength and power made your stomach flutter.
And then, as the song neared its instrumental, his eyes were back on you.
This time, you could barely contain yourself. An involuntary smile found its way onto your face as you reacted instinctively to the charismatic act. In response, you saw the whites of his teeth show and the corners of his eyes crease as he smiled back.
Eren fucking Jaeger smiled back.
You watched as he briefly turned back, making a signal with his hands to his team near the back of the stage that you couldn't quite understand before he turned back to face the crowd. "Hold on." He spoke over the instrumental, his gaze floating over to you once more. "Black two piece, come here a second."
You looked down as if you weren't aware of the outfit your brand had styled you in that morning. Of course it was you in the fucking black two piece, he was looking directly at you. Looking around, you tried to assure yourself that you must've been mistaken. After all, black wasn't exactly a unique colour. "Yeah, you, pretty girl. Come up here." He nodded his head in beckoning, a sly grin on his face.
A security guard came over to you, escorting you out of your position and over to the stairs on the side of the stage. "I know you, I swear." Each step you took felt like your brain was shaking in your skull. If it were a dream, surely you would have woken up by the time you had reached the stairs. You really couldn't recall the amount of times you had pinched yourself or blinked insanely hard on the way there.
Your mouth grew dry and goosebumps raised on your skin as you climbed the staircase. But, you had experience in things like this. What with your PR training and brand etiquette, you instantly flipped a switch in your brain and turned to the crowd as you reached the top of the stage.
Giving a quick wave, you walked along the raised surface, ignoring the twisting of your stomach as you approached Eren. "There she is, give her a round of applause." The singer indicated to you, practically showing you off as the lights hit you and the instrumental looped. The crowd cheered for you, big smiles being the only thing you could see from where you were stood.
"Oh yeah, I've seen you before." As you finally reached him, you didn't miss the way he looked you over. His gaze was heavy as he took in your entire face as well as your body, refusing to hold onto any of the shame that came with checking you out.
Entertaining his antics, you gave a quick spin, feeling all eyes from the crowd on you. A hum of approval escaped Eren's lips and you caught onto the way he slowly nodded as you turned back to him. "Shit, you're even more distracting in person."
A collective 'ooooo' shattered through the audience at Eren's words, multiple people cheering and squealing. You wished you could have let out the scream of excitement that was building up inside you but you truly had to hold back.
Eren waited for the noise from the crowd to simmer down before speaking up once again. " Wanna introduce yourself?" He stepped aside, leaving the mic empty and waiting for you.
You moved to reach for it, leaning closer as you announced who you were. "Hi, everyone! I'm Y/n, L/n, I'm so happy to be up here tonight!" The crowd erupted into screams and chants of your name as you finished speaking into the mic.
"Oh, I'm happy you're up here too." Eren spoke from behind you, far enough away from the mic for no one else to hear. You turned to see his arms crossed over his chest and his biceps, as a result, bulging through his tight button up.
Fuck.
You bit your lip as Eren walked closer to the mic and you felt his hand settle on your waist. "So, Y/n, now that you're up here, don't you think it's getting a bit hot?" He clung onto the neckline of his button up, pulling it forwards and backwards in an attempt to create a fake breeze.
You grinned at the line, already knowing that it was coming. After all, Eren couldn't go one performance without leaving shirtless. "Want me to fix that for you?" Innocently, you tilted your head to the side and looked up at Eren with wide eyes.
"I'd like that." Your eyes flitted over to the dimple in his cheek that formed with the smirk on his face. His eyes were so heavy as he stepped back, out of line with the mic, that you could barely maintain the eye contact he had started.
The background instrumental grew louder as you and Eren stepped closer to one another. He towered over you, looking down at you with sharp eyes as if you were his prey. You could already imagine how viral this moment would go and you really weren't ready for the aftershocks to hit you.
"Here." You reached your hands up and your fingers intertwined themselves with his shirt. You manoeuvred the first button of his shirt through the button hole, allowing for it to undo and reveal a slight gap of shiny, tan skin.
"There you go." You didn't have to look up to know that Eren was smirking, the cockiness in his voice was more than enough proof for you.
Nevertheless, you looked up. And, when you were caught by his dark, green eyes, you immediately looked back down as your heart skipped a beat. "C'mon, don't get all nervous on me now. We haven't even started yet." He tilted his head to the side teasingly as he spoke.
"I like to savour the things I enjoy." You moved onto the next few buttons, refusing to hasten your pace as you slowly undressed the man in front of you.
"You keep talking like that and I might forget we have an audience." He bit his lip and grinned, hair falling into his eyes as he looked down at you.
"Isn't the audience the reason you pulled me up here?" You scoffed, only to be met with silence.
Eren's hand closed around your wrist, instantly stopping your movements. You didn't let go of his shirt however, you just paused and looked up at him.
He leaned in further, closer to you than you had ever thought he was allowed to. His lip brushed the top of your ear before he spoke. "You really think I pulled you up here for them?" He whispered, the heat of his words making you shudder.
And then, he let go of your wrist as he returned to his previous posture. It was slow, way slower than it should have been. It was almost as if he wanted his words to stick. He wanted you to question your initial thoughts. "It's up to you if you want to keep going."
With that sentence, you almost did feel as if the two of you were alone. Nothing felt like it was for show. Nothing felt scripted. Nothing felt exaggerated. It felt... real?
And so, you continued to undo his buttons. Your fingers worked but your eyes grew distracted. All you could take in was the view of his abs. Holy fucking shit, Eren was sculpted. That was when you truly understood the importance of seeing things in person. The sight was truly something you couldn't recover from.
"You're enjoying this a little too much for someone who thought it was just for show." Eren chuckled as you reached the final button.
"You talk as if you didn't look at me the same way when I came up." You completely undid his shirt, fanning each side out so that the shirt could reveal what the crowd wanted to see before he turned to face them.
"Seems like things are getting pretty steamy between us." Eren raised his eyebrows playfully and then walked back to the microphone. "I think it's about time we cool things down, huh?" He called out to the crowd, placing his hand behind his ear as he anticipated the audiences reactions.
Crouching down, you reached for the water bottle next to his microphone stand before stepping back once again. Eren joined you, spreading his shirt apart and leaning his head back.
You raised the bottle before tilting it down, allowing the water to flow over Eren's torso and pool on the floor of the stage. Eren dragged his hand down his abdomen, following the stream of water as it trickled down his body. The cheers grew insane and you were starting to wonder if the chemistry Eren had with the other girls he had done this with was ever this strong.
Your silent question was immediately answered when Eren grabbed a hold of the water bottle in your hands, breaking the act completely. "This okay?" He rested his free hand on your lower back, pulling you slightly into him.
"Mhm." You nodded, leaning slightly back as you watched Eren lift the bottle similar to how you had. Closing your eyes, you let him flood your upper chest, feeling the water trickle down and underneath your top. It dipped down between your tits before running your stomach and partially soaking into the hem of your skirt.
You gasped at the feeling, opening your eyes to see Eren staring at the flow of water. "That's hot." He muttered before looking you in the eyes. "Can I try something?"
"Whatever you want." You traced the wet mark that the water had left on your skin with your finger.
Before you could properly comprehend what Eren was planning, he began to lean into you. Your heart quickened and your eyes widened slightly before the lights cut out and the music ended. Almost in sync with the final beat, you felt the warm wetness of Eren's tongue against the skin of your sternum.
Gasping, your hands immediately reached for Eren's nape as he moved his head up to lock a stripe along your skin. He held you tightly, his hands clutching deep into your lower back as his tongue moved along you. He didn't stop until he reached the base of your neck, the complete darkness not being enough to stop the burning of his gaze on you.
"Were you supposed to do that?" Was all you could muster as the chatter and confusion of the crowd swarmed back into your ears after tuning them out. You were confused yourself at the act but, you couldn't imagine how confused the crowd probably felt. "Everyone probably thinks we just kissed."
"Do you want to?" He cupped your face in the dark, his large hand immediately sending heat to your cheeks.
You would have said yes in a heartbeat if it wasn't for Eren's security immediately approaching both of you. As your eyes adjusted to the darkness, you noticed the big white letters on their shirt as they separated the two of you. "Alright, off stage." Was all that was instructed of you.
"Wait." Eren interjected, lightly reaching for your shoulder. "How about I take you backstage?"
Pursing your lips together, you tried— and failed— to hide your joy. "I'd like that."
"You're good, she's with me." Eren swatted off the security guy before leading you to the back of the stage.
You couldn't fully comprehend where you were going. After all, your heart was fluttering so much you were getting way too lightheaded. Even just trying to walk without fainting was difficult. The last thing you were thinking about was where you were going. You simply let Eren lead the way.
The bass of Eren's instrumental still rung in your ears as you replayed the moment that had just occurred. Your skin prickled with fluster and the hand that Eren held on your lower back as he guided you through areas you hadn't even known existed started to make everything feel extremely real.
As you approached an empty, closed off field of trailers, your stomach bubbled with giddiness. It was hard to pretend like you didn't feel like you were about to blow up in excitement. Eren's trailer was far, pretty secluded and a long distance from the rest of the celebrities which you were sure to have passed on the way.
"That was..." You sighed as you approached the front of Eren's trailer, the reality of seeing the big letters spelling out his name making your skin prickle. "That was really hot."
"Yeah?" Eren quickly raised his eyebrows with a teasing look on his face.
"Yeah. I hope you got the clip you wanted." You teased back, slightly chuckling as Eren opened the door for you. His trailer wasn't anything new. It was slightly messy with a few jackets and shirts tossed around but, it was also very comfortable and personal.
"You really reduced that all to content?" Eren scoffed, slightly amused by your comment.
"Well, yeah. You pull girls onto the stage at every concert." You leaned against an empty wall of his trailer, crossing one leg over the other.
"But they never look at me in the same way you did." Eren sat on a couch perpendicular to you, leaning forward and resting his elbows on his knees.
Your eyebrows raised at his words. "How did I look at you?"
"You looked at me with wild eyes." He looked up you, the corner of his mouth lifting. "Like you were silently begging for more." His eyes narrowed.
"So does every other influencer you pull up onto the stage." You shrugged. "It is my job to play along." You placed emphasis on the 'is' as you spoke, trying your best to act natural.
"Even when no one's there to witness it?" Eren's head tilted to the side in questioning, his tongue reaching into the corner of his cheek.
You briefly pulled your eyes away from Eren to glance around. "What are you saying?"
"There are no cameras in here. No one ever finds out what happens backstage." Eren sat up straight, his hands flattening against his thighs. "No other influencer has ever been in the position you are in."
Scoffing, you blinked hard as you tried to grasp onto what Eren was letting on. "Really?"
"Because if they were doing it for their fans, they'd stop as soon as the set ended." His voice slowed and the signals you were getting from him grew even stronger. "But, here you are." He reached his hands out to you, as if he were showing you off. "Wanna keep pretending this is for your followers?"
Swallowing hard, you brought your arms up to your chest, crossing them over each other. "I never said I didn't like what happened on stage."
"I know." He stood up, your eyes lifting to meet his gaze. "Because, you could've told me to stop." He took a large stride over to you. "But you didn't."
"Yeah, maybe I didn't want you to stop." You sunk your teeth into your bottom lip.
With that, he took another large stride and stood right before you, tall and menacing. "And that's why I didn't stop." His canines exposed themselves. "Because I knew you fucking loved it."
You looked him dead in the eyes, refusing to cower in front of him. "But you're telling me none of that was for the fans? Or even Jaegerchella?"
"Fuck that. I was more interested in seeing how wild you really were." He brought his hand up to your side, his palm settling in the divot of your waist as he leaned in closer. "I wanted to know how far you'd let me go."
"And, did you find your answer?" Your eye line shifted from his left eye to his right and back to his left.
"I'm still trying to figure that out." His voice dropped an octave as he trailed his hand up your side. Your heart pounded against your chest as his hand caressed the side of your figure, eventually reaching your jawline.
"Let me know when you do." You tilted your chin higher as you kept your composure.
Your words only made Eren smile devilishly as he leaned in closer to you. "Say stop." He whispered, his face inches away from yours. You stayed quiet, the only noise being your laboured breaths as your lips grew so close you could feel the heat radiating off of Eren's. "Yeah, that's right. There's my answer."
Your silence was enough of an answer to invite his lips onto yours. Your mouths crashed against each other in a frantic storm of passion and built up lust. There you went, reaching for his nape and pulling him further into you. Eren was good. He was so fucking good you could already feel the heat between your legs starting to form and he had barely even touched you.
It was as if he was teasing you that entire time. The lingering touches in the parts that were intimate enough to keep him on your mind but not severe enough to have you fighting your urges. The way he stared at you with a hunger in his eyes made you feel so exposed, so desired and completely at his mercy. With each note of his voice, your stomach would swirl with heat and you desperately tried to mask it as nerves but you knew this feeling all too well.
You were turned on.
All it took was for Eren to look at you, hold you and speak to you and you were immediately turned on.
You clawed at his nape, slotting your nails through his brown locks as you pulled him closer. Humming, you felt your eyelids involuntarily flutter at the feeling of his hot wet tongue sliding through and parting your lips.
One of his hands was firm on yours waist, his other hand reaching up to cup your face as he leaned into you, his entire body pressed hard against yours. He was warm, the dents of his abs sliding up and down the bare skin of your stomach.
You were close to each other, so fucking close and it felt so good. It felt so natural. And, for a brief second, you completely forgot that you were making out with Eren fucking Jaeger against a wall in his trailer at Coachella.
You barely had the time to mentally spiral before Eren's words flooded your ears. "Are you single?" He whispered as his hands impatiently traced up and down your sides.
Nodding, you answered quickly. "Shouldn't you have asked me that before all of this?" You gave him an 'are you serious' sort of look.
"Your body was doing all the talking before." He brought his thumb up to your lip, swiping it against the membrane and coating his finger in the remnants of your shared saliva.
"How could you tell?" You tilted your head to the side.
"The way your legs squeezed together." He started, inching his face closer to yours once again. "Like you're trying to restrain yourself." He chuckled, deep and menacing. "But you can't hide your attraction." Slowly, he shook his head as he talked down to you.
"Maybe you misread me."
"Yeah? Well, care to explain why your nipples are poking through your top right now?" He pulled his head back to meet your eyes, a grin on his face. "You can't blame it on the cold, we're in the dessert."
Your words hitched in the back of your throat, erasing before you could come up with a full excuse. Heat filled your body and suddenly, you were aware of every goosebump that littered your skin. Eren slightly chuckled at your fluster and his eyes grew heavier. "You should see how good you look right now."
And, with that, his lips were on your neck. He licked, nipped and sucked, the tingling of your skin flowing through to where you needed him the most. You were horny. So horny that just having Eren kiss your neck was enough to have you trembling.
Your breathing grew laboured and your eyes fluttered shut as Eren touched and teased you, moulding you into a pile of pleasure. But, just as Eren riled you up enough to cause weakness, his lips were back on yours.
His mouth was warm, wet and full of even more arousal than before. It was like you could taste the lust emanating off of him and only feeding further into your own. "God, you're fucking amazing." Eren whispered against your lips before wrapping his arms around the small of your back and pulling you into him. "Just touching your skin turns me on."
At his words, you practically folded. A moan slipped out, scooting past your lips and floating in the air. Eren hadn't even fucking touched you.
He let out an intrigued hum in response. "You're naughty." He smirked. His face remained inches from yours as his large, warm hands roamed your body, clutching onto any exposed skin he could reach. "You know how I can tell?"
"How?" You breathed out, somehow completely at a loss of words.
"Because you acted like you weren't expecting this. Now, look at you." He cooed as he slid his hands down your front, refusing to stop when he reached the hem of your skirt. "You'll let me do whatever I want to you." He finally dipped down beneath the fabric of your skirt, his hands trailing along the fabric of your panties.
"Fuck-" Placing your hands out behind you, you tried to form as much grip as you could despite the wall behind you being a smooth metal. Your back lifted from the wall, desperate and instinctive as the feeling of Eren's finger slithering through your clothed pussy sent flash waves up your spine.
"Feels good?" Eren smiled, his middle finger increasing its pressure of your clit with each slide up and down. You hummed in approval, nodding your head as your legs spread slightly to accommodate Eren's touch. "There's not much point in me asking, huh?" His eyebrows raised as he leaned into you once again.
He kept his finger on your clit as he kissed you, his hand moving in all the right ways. You breathed laboredly against him as you tried to kiss back, the pleasure being so direct it was hard to focus on anything else.
And Eren fucking loved it. He loved seeing you like this: horny, desperate and at the mercy of his hand. You could tell he loved it just by the feeling of the smirk he let out against your lips. He loved every second of this.
"Want some more?" He pulled away from the kiss and tilted his head to the side.
"Yes... please." You swallowed before biting your lip.
"Good girl." He trailed the back of his free hand down your cheek before removing his other hand from beneath your skirt. "I wanted to fuck you so bad." He kissed your neck, making you tilt your head back as your eyes closed.
"Yeah?" You hummed.
"Since I saw you in the crowd, it was all I could think about." Eren muttered against your skin, his lips trailing lower as he cupped your tits. "You're just so fuckable. Everything about you is." He pressed his lips against your collar bone and finally your chest before he straightened out and his eyes met you.
"I never thought we'd end up like this." You let out a light chuckle. "But, to be honest, I was praying that you wouldn't just leave me high and dry after the set." After your confession, you bit your lip.
"You wanted this the entire time?" Eren held your waist as he spoke, his eyes growing significantly darker.
"So fucking badly." You admitted.
"Fuck." Eren whispered to himself before he stole your breath with the rough kiss he planted on your lips. "I'll give you what you want." He assured before turning you around.
He held you by your hips as you gripped the wall in purchase, your cheek against the cold metal as you turned at the sound of Eren's belt buckle. Your stomach swirled at the anticipation, ripples of pleasure extending through your entire body in the form of heat.
"Touch yourself." Eren commanded from behind you. Your hands dipped down, lifting your skirt up far enough for you to access where you were so desperately aching. "Get your pussy nice and ready for me."
Eren stepped away fot a bit, his footsteps growing further as he searched through a few drawers behind you. Your lip found its way between your teeth as you pulled your panties aside and traced your finger through your wetness.
As you brought your finger back up to your clit, your breath hitched. A spread of concentrated heat blistered through your skin and you rested your forehead against the cool metal as you melted into the feeling.
You continued to touch yourself as Eren made his way back to you, what sounded like a condom wrapper in hand. He was all you could think about. The way he looked at you. The way he touched you. The way he kissed you. It was all so arousing.
From behind you, a breeze formed as Eren picked your skirt up all the way over your ass and bunched it up around your hips. He was quiet for a while, standing back yet remaining stood behind you with a heavy presence. It was so intimidating but it turned you on so badly that you couldn't stop the circles you made on your clit.
That was when you heard the fapping noises behind you. He was jerking off to the sight. Fuck. "Your pussy is just as sexy as the rest of you, shit Y/n."
With his gaze on you, you inserted a finger, your eyebrows furrowing at the feeling. At his groan of approval, you smiled and turned back to gauge his reaction.
And, when you saw his cock, your legs almost gave out. It stood large, thick and flushed, hard enough for it to be significantly weighed down. It was hot, so fucking hot. Your mouth dropped open as you watched Eren move his hand alongside the girthy shaft. His movements were languid, his tip disappearing and reappearing through his tight fist. "You ready for me, pretty?"
"Fuck, yeah." You sighed in satisfaction as you removed your finger from inside you and planted it on the wall in front of you.
"C'mere." Eren caressed your hip, resting his finger in the divot between your hip and your waist as the sounds of the condom wrapper filled the trailer. Eren briefly removed his hand from you as he rolled the latex on before lining his dick up with your pussy. "Tell me what you want." He leaned over and whispered in your ear, his tip prodding at your fluttering entrance.
"I want you to fuck me." You whispered back.
"Louder." Eren teased.
"I want you to fuck me." You whined, slightly swaying your hips in want.
"Louder, c'mon." The brunette landed a harsh slap on your ass, making you yelp.
"Fuck- please fuck me, Eren!" You begged, pushing back on his dick as a silent plea.
"Hmmm okay. Because you said please." Eren prefaced his movements before thrusting his tip into you.
"Fuck!" Your mouth hung open and your eyes screwed shut at the intrusion.
"Shhh, how's that?" Eren massaged your hips, calming them from the intense grip he had on them. His movements slowed as he pulled you backwards while he thrusted up, trying to fit more into you.
"It's- fuck, you're big." You whined as your teeth clenched.
"You made me like this." Eren spoke as he rested his chin on your shoulder, his hand reaching down to your clit. "You and your perfect body." He traced light circles over your sensitive nub, making your legs tremble with overwhelm.
"Eren I-" You placed your hand over his.
"Do you want me to stop?" He pulled his hands away and stilled inside of you.
"No! No, I don't!" You shook your head desperately.
"You're gonna take it?" He moved his hand to your front, lifting your shirt high enough to expose your tits.
"Mmmyes." You moaned as Eren kneaded the fat, sinking his hand into the plush of your chest.
"So slutty." Eren chuckled, making your body shiver. "Let me fuck you like the slut you are." He moved his hips forward, bottoming out slowly as you adjusted to his size. His grip on your mid section was solid and firm, only making it impossible for you to do anything other than take it. "Are you gonna let me?"
"Uh huh." You nodded dumbly.
"Such a good girl for me." Eren dug his fingers into your skin before increasing the roughness of his thrusts.
"Oh my god!" Your eyebrows flew upwards and inwards as your eyes rolled back. You were stuffed so full it felt as if Eren's cock could burst right through your stomach. "Fuck, Eren, it feels good." You moaned out, the warmth of your pleasure building in your head and making your ears ring.
"You like that?" Eren groaned from behind you. "You love the feeling of my cock filling you up, don't you?" His thrusts didn't falter as he spoke, only growing deeper and harder.
"Oh, fuck yes..." Your body trembled at the feeling. Eren was fucking you so good. Nice and hard. You couldn't help but squeal. "Eren-"
"You sound so hot when you say my name." Eren gritted out, his grip on you tightening. "God, your pussy feels so good, you're so perfect." You felt the relentless throbs of Eren's dick inside of you between thrusts, making his words all the more effective.
Eren was so fucking attracted to you, he was actively throbbing inside of you as he fucked you. And, holy shit, it turned you on even more.
Bringing a hand down to your clit, you began to rub circles. It was euphoric, the double stimulation making it hard to stay upright. "Eren it's so- mmm!"
"It's so what baby? So fucking good?" The man behind you cooed as he continued to fuck you relentlessly.
His pace alongside the movements on your clit were making a burning white heat bubble up in your core. It grew tighter and more sensitive with each thrust until one particular thrust had you quivering. "Oh fuck! Right there!" Your stomach flexed at the feeling.
"Like this?" Eren thrusted again, his fat tip nudging against a spot that had you seeing stars. At your chocked out moan, Eren moved again, grinding directly into the spot that had prickly nerves forming all throughout your body. "Right there, huh? Does it feel good?"
"So good." You breathed out, feeling your legs grow numb. Your hand on your clit didn't stop, desperately urging you into an orgasm.
"You wanna know something, Y/n?" Eren kept his pace up as he spoke, making it hard for you to comprehend what he was saying what with the relentless thrusts that made your ears ring. "You know why I brought you onto that stage?"
"Mhm?" You squeaked out.
"So I could show you off like you were mine." He lifted his arm up, cupping your tits over the expanse. "I really want you to be mine." He brought his other hand to your stomach, pressing down on the slight bulge that penetrated through your lower abdomen. It only amplified the feeling of Eren's dick driving into the spot that made you crazy. "And I want you to know that you're mine."
It was too much. All of the pleasure was sending you over the edge. You couldn't take it anymore. "I'm gonna cum-" You hiccuped, your entire body trembling as you lost complete feeling of your legs.
"Tell me you're mine." Eren instructed, his voice clear and dominant.
"I'm yours-" You choked out.
"Louder." Eren pressed down harder on your stomach. That was it for you.
Your legs gave out beneath you and you dropped to your knees, your orgasm teetering on its edge as you shook.
It was to your surprise when Eren kneeled down behind you, wrapping his arm around your midsection as he re inserted himself into you. "I know you can take it." He groaned into your ear, sitting back on his shins as he desperately thrusted up into you.
As his fingers found their way to your clit, your head dropped back and all you could see was white. You were so fucking close. "Are you gonna take my cum?" Eren's light moan made your skin prickle with goosebumps.
"Oh my god, yes! Yes yes yes!" You cried out, squirming in Eren's grip at the relentless double stimulation.
"How about you cum on my cock at the same time?" His finger on your clit grew faster as he fucked you harder, clearly desperate to chase his high. "Can you do that for me, pretty?"
"Yeah, fuck, yes.." Your words grew shaky as you felt the solid heat pile up inside you. Your breathing quickened and your head spun as the pleasure continuously doubled. It was so good, so fucking good you really couldn't take any more.
"Make a mess all over my cock." With Eren's final instruction, you were gone. Your orgasm ripped through you, pulling a borderline pornographic moan from your throat as piles of pleasure wracked through your body.
You trembled uncontrollably in Eren's grasp, his expert fingers on your clit only making everything last longer. And when Eren came inside the condom with a grunt, the violent throbs of his cock only further extended your intense pleasure. You were a mess, moaning, shaking and squirming all at once as Eren helped you ride out all of the pleasure.
His hand on your clit steadily slowed as his thrusts came to a stop. Your head spun with the afterglow of your intense orgasm and you blinked hard, trying to pull yourself out of your post orgasm daze.
"That was so fucking hot." Eren rubbed your thigh, his other hand loosely around your stomach. "Wish I could've seen your face while you were cumming."
"Oh my god, don't say that." You instinctively covered your face, feeling your embarrassment creep up.
Eren let out a mischievous chuckle before pulling out. You pulled your top and skirt down in embarrassment, your skin heating up as your brain caught up with your actions.
"Why don't you give me your number?" Eren cocked his head to the side, a smirk on his face.
"I'm not complaining but, I thought this was a one time thing?" Your eyebrows furrowed.
"I'm not ready to let you go yet." Eren sighed. "And you're all mine now, remember?"
he’s so sweet about it too, despite rearranging your guts. he even promises to buy a new one.
doesn’t mean to of course, it’s accidental. sometimes nanami can get a bit too rough sometimes, a good firm grip on your hair, yanking it with just enough force while presenting you spank after spank against your ass.
“jus’ like that, princess,”
he groans, his hips were just nasty…
thwacking and smacking against you it made your ears rings — beads of sweat ran down the side of your forehead as you bite down on you lip, tediously feeling your legs just quiver and jolt with his fit body bodying yours. rocking and rocking.
“always know how to take me. such a good girl.”
snap
“…w-what happened? kento?”
you moaned, you get a cool rush of shivers race down your spine from the way nanami playfully skims his fingertips down your back. the sweet scent — aroma of you and him, pressed against each other was bittersweet.
nanami slows down a bit, but he doesn’t stop completely. his hips shudder mid thrust and you bite your lip, he’s rolling himself against you and it’s just mouth watering.
his strokes was just pure bliss. appetizing in all the best ways.
the headboard was just about to fall on top of you but he catches it — his muscles flex, although you can’t see, you’d bet he’s got a grin on his face. “nothin', nothin'. jus' sit pretty 'n keep facing this way, sweetheart.” and you’d gasp from the off guard ass smack before he rubs it, you hiss from the sting.
the curve of nanami’s dick reaches deep in places you never imagined could be touched — his girth, it’s got you clenching nonexistent pearls.
the headboard was split in two but he didn’t care, all he cared about was making sure your pussy knew who it belonged to.
“o-okay…”
you whined, just being shoved and rammed against the fat pillows.
even if he was rough with you, he’d never forget to shower you with multiple praises. making sure it never leaves one ear and out the other with you. nanami was a gentleman.
he’d make you feel like a slut with his dick but treat you like a queen with his praise game. “f-fuck.. arch more for me baby, want you to feel everythin'.”
FUSHIGURO ☆ TOJI.
always pushing the agenda that toji fucks mean.
he likes to fuck in a certain position, specifically doggystyle sure — but even better when his foot presses against the back of your head. he only saves this for when you’re being a brat, which is often … 90% of the time.
“girl if ya don’t stop fuckin' runnin'. been beggin' for dick all day 'n this is the thanks i get.”
he’d snarl. his angle was so deep, thick cock pumping in and out of your pussy. your head’s being smushed against the padded cushioned mattress at feeling the soft fabric of toji’s sock press against the back of your neck.
you let off a whine, feeling that feeling brew up inside of your deepest parts…
“t-toji, ‘m gonna cum.” you’d moan, not even recognizing your own pathetic shaky voice.
it’s dumb, you're choking on your own saliva.
he’s rocking his hips against you, you’re bawling the bedsheets into your hands before a rupturing crackle sound disrupts the mood.
“fuck,” toji grunts — pausing just briefly, the bed ends up pressing down from the weight, the frame ends up becoming unstable and collapses.
he’s still got a yanking tug on your hair, balls deep. you raise your head to see what happened but he just shoves you back down.
“stop bein' nosy. yeah yeah the bed broke but y’er greedy ass pussy still needs attention.”
he’s still drilling into you again..
your cunt clamps against him, and you dig your teeth into the fat parts of the white thick mattress.
he’s just so mean with his hits, he makes sure you feel everything, you’re dramatically moaning into the bed — jerking and jerking against him as his fat tip rests inside you. stirring up your insides everywhere to where your eyes roll back.
time and time again, you’re speechless… mouth agape and eyes just buck open.
toji’s got such a angle, the back of his foot just driving against the back of your head.
he grumbled out swear words about how sloppy your pussy was for him — swiping a tongue across his lip, across that damn scar.
“…y’er buying the new bed by the way. ain’t got enough money for that shit. but i bet you do, sweetheart.” and he spanks your ass before you could reply. “yeah, what i thought.”
SUKUNA ☆ RYOMEN.
isn’t even phased at hearing the sudden abrupt sound of the headboard shattering into two pieces — plummeting into the ground.
sukuna doesn’t bat a eye, he’s so into you it, pinning both of your arms behind your back as he’s ramming, bullying his fat dick between your walls.
“look what ya made me do, princess,” he huffs out, bringing an arm to his forehead, discarding the ran down sweat-beads racing down the sides of his arched eyebrows.
he leans up close, making sure your ass remembers every inch of his. wrapping a hand around your throat, his long nails softly tickle against the middle part of your neck. he licks the side of your ear and you whimper out in ecstasy.
“this pussy’s so unstable, made the bed break. shame shame..”
“but r-ryo,” you’d moan out, and he’s hitting you so good, your back does that infamous arch that always gets him hard. he hits his fangs into his lip watching you lose yourself — staring at the filthy recoil of your ass from each singular thrust. “right there p-pleas—”
“oi. don’t tell me how to fuck, little girl.”
he yaps, rutting himself against you, and he was buried balls deep to the damn hilt.
his fat base continued to thwack against your very core and you’re trembling underneath him. as soon as he reaches that spot with his dick, you’re seeing straight white. his hits scratches that itch, you’re drooling all on the sheets like the dirty girl you were.
his smacks he presents against your ass rings throughout your ears, so loud it’s just reverberating.
“…pleasepleaseplease,” you pleaded - he raised his leg up for a through angle, and at this point he’s just fucking you stupid. eyes crossing absurdly — he’s still got your wrists tied with his own grip of it.
you’re chasing your breath and his cock is so heavy it’s got your legs just shaking in horror. you could barely keep up with his pace and his stamina was just godly.
“beg some more for me. make me believe it,” he rasps. a wicked smile pursing onto his lips, and he flips you over only to smack his tip against your pussy, his angry tip mashing against your folds and he sucks his teeth as he watches you stare at him. awaiting. “go on. talk to me nice or i ain’t finishing.”
GOJO ☆ SATORU.
breaks the bed on purpose.
the material was pretty cheap anyway — but the frame was barely sturdy. gojo usually fucks you in doggy but this time, he’s got you laid flat on your back. knees shoved up towards your chest.
“s-soo good for me, babe,” he’d grunt, feeling a cool shiver run down his spine, he’s stuffing you full of lengthy extensive inches. “damn it.”
his girth, stretches you out ten times more. it’s got your legs twitching and bouncing back against your skin. gojo’s moaning just as loud as you, he can’t help but to be vocal.
you milk him every single time and he grows addicted to watching his own cum spill out of your pussy, only to pout at it ‘going to waste’ in his terms.
“soak it up f'me…” he’d whine, plugging his thick cock back inside after pulling out to watch the mess come out slowly in spurts.
you hear him swallow, not pausing his movements for a split second before that’s when you hear a shrieking splitting sound of the headboard breaking, crashing down and you flinch.
“did you just break the bed?” you gasped, your legs were as good as numb — he gives you a look that basically says, and…?
gojo leans up against you, sneaking a kiss near the side of your mouth before pushing yours up against your chest just a bit more.
“pft what..? oh, nevermind that, baby…”
he pants, and he gives you that look. he’s huffing and puffing, muscles that glistened with sweat were flexing throughout each second.
his biceps that were beside your body tensed, and even his breathing is attractive. his smell…minty and loud cologne. you moaned, he’s still got his dick concealed inside of you, you’re so full you can barely think let alone comprehend anything.
your shaky hands make its way onto gojo’s beefy arms and he grins, leaning into to kiss the top of your forehead before starting up his salaciously lustful pace — your jaw is just dumbly hanging open, repeating his name again and again and he chuckles. “hold on to me, yeah? bed’s broken so might as well go all out..”
SUGURU ☆ GETO.
with geto, it just sort of … happens.
he’s more playful with you in bed. a rough hand of his attached to the back of your neck.
such sultry skin slaps ring across the room and geto’s just so thick, you mouth starts to water as he continues to piston his mean hips against you.
“take it, take it baby. fuckin' take it. c'mon, ‘s good. want you to have all of me.” he grunts.
his tip reaches deep and your brain is fried, spasming with much needed craze.
he’s go such a deep angle and the arch your back gives him makes him show a faint toothy grin.
you let out a surprised squeak once he spanks you but seconds later — the bed frame ends up collapsing, a loud creaaaaak noise. the supports hung near the back ends up breaking and the both of you end of flinching before geto chuckles.
“oopsie daisy.” he murmurs, grabbing ahold of your waist.
pulling you more closer towards him and you moaned. he leans forward, and your back arched downward — you whimper at him starting to rub against your clit.
“hey hey,” he coos, the angle he’s giving to you has you nearly losing composure, “..don’t get distracted, i can always buy a new one, princess.”
“s-suguru,-‘m gonna-cum-againnn,” you’d spit out.
your voice was whiney and all. his dick stretched out deep inside to where the angled hits he was giving you hit you right where it needed. your mouth opened and you sobbed out a, “oh my g-god,” whilst he’s still rubbing circles against your pussy — got you bent over him like some slut.
“shhh, no more talkin' angel. i want you to hear how sloppy your pussy is for me.”
your legs feel like jello — just shaky and shaky, he spanks your ass a few times before he maneuvers mean circles against your throbbing pussy that’s nearly reaching its peak.
“ya gotta listen to it baby,” he whispers, using his entire wrist to rub against between your legs mid-fucking — you’re biting your lip, nearly about to burst and his low raspy laugh makes pulsate embarrassingly.
“mhm. it’s okay, i know,” he coos before playfully tugging your hair back, leaning to lick a long stripe down your spine. “jus’ so damn wet for me. poor baby. my sloppy, messy girl.”
CHOSO ☆ KAMO.
is really apologetic once he ends up breaking the bed. even though you’ve been purposely teasing him to be more rough with you during intimacy.
“are- are you sure? i don’t wanna hurt you, princess,”
and his shaky hands hold against your waist. you’re propped up on all fours, awaiting for him to finish and his tone is so cute.
he’s timid…teasing you a bit by rubbing his tip against your achy pussy. dragging out a whimper from you before you nodded, desperately wanting him back inside. “y-yeah choso, it’s okay you can be rough. i can handle it.”
once choso’s rough — he’s rough…he’s got your pillow placed underneath your hips so he can slam you back against him.
his dick is so lengthy you can feel that delicious curve expand throughout yours walls so much that you’re just dizzy.
your knees pierce into the mattress and you’re moaning, hearing choso’s whimpered moans too makes you throb before he lets off a shaky breath, making you shift your ass up for him a bit.
“baby, y-you keep pushin' yourself against me. ‘s so hot.”
his grip is so degrading.
his dick was so hard it made him whine, you made him hard. this entire position had his head spinning.
the way you’re just lazily bent over for him. he licks his lips, deepening the angle while moving his leg a certain way and you’re practically being plowed into the mattress.
yet as he’s driving such force into you, the headboard cracks, it’s a loud shrilling sound and right when you were about to get off — it splits in two and choso’s eyes widens. “was it too much? ‘m sorry my lo—”
“don’t stop choso, please.” you begged, your cunt clenched for more. you could taste your incoming orgasm. legs were spread for him and the side of your head was nearly shoved against the sheets. “m-make me cum pleaseplease…‘s okay.”
“if you say so,” he whines, gliding his fingers down your back before picking up his pace again, and you’re so stupid — his hits had you sputtering out nonsense.
“s-shit princess, ‘m gonna cum if you keep hittin' back against me,” he sobs before grabbing a fistful of your hair, you gasp at how he’s just plainly fucking you stupid before spanking your ass only to caress it so you can feel the sting, “…drive me crazy, woman. 'm s-so in love with you.”
the purpose of this blog is to stop the hate that is currently within the jjk community by spreading positivity
rules: submit your thoughts on your fav blogs, fic recs, underrated writers and creators you think deserves more love, etc. submissions must be positive comments. you can choose to remain anonymous if you’d like!
if you’re tagged please spread the love by submitting a love letter to creator you’d like to shoutout!
hate is not allowed!!! submissions containing negativity, slurs, bigotry, ignorant comments, etc will be deleted
i think it’s an interesting premise to have a blog where people can voice their opinions of their community, however, it’s so negative. i don’t think it’s a good idea to spread hate and potentially affect the creators that are being mentioned over and over. i wanted to give this account the benefit of the doubt - that it was just supposed to be a blog where people can post any opinion they have (both bad and good), but their pinned post reads: “got a dirty secret, a grudge, a callout, or proof someone’s weirder than their audience thinks? send it in on anon and get it off your chest”. they’re actively promoting negativity and i can’t support that
we (writers) do this for free!! because we enjoy writing, have a passion for it and want to share our stories with others. it’s such a cool feeling to read someone’s comment reacting to the latest upload and to have mutuals from the other side of the world!!!
i guess i’m just not understanding why people can’t keep their thoughts to themselves. i’ve never read a story i disliked and thought “i need to tell this creator how terrible their writing is”. just swipe to the next story and move on with your life. there are plenty of tropes/themes i dislike. if i see them mentioned in the content warning, i swipe to the next one. it’s that simple. if you don’t like someone’s writing style don’t read it!!!
there’s been so many submission just in the last 24 hours alone - it’s concerning just how quickly hate spreads. i hope the creators being mentioned know this is not how the whole community feels about them, just a select few who aren’t brave enough to voice their opinions on their own account so they are remaining anonymous on someone else’s
i’m not a very big blog and i have not been mentioned on this burn book account to my knowledge. i may be subjecting myself to negative comments moving forward, but i wanted to share my thoughts. i hope the creators targeted by anons are not discouraged by the (literal) mean girl activity that is occurring
chapter four summary: you have an uncomfortable conversation with your husband before your work trip and can't help but compare him to your boss
warning: unhappy marriage, husband reveal!, angst, longing, wrongfully crushing on nanami, tiniest amounft of physical touch
word count: 2.5k
the weekend drags on. it’s quiet in your apartment, but not in a comforting way. you try to make yourself as non-distracting as possible as you overhear the occasional shuffle of papers and soft click of a pen. your husband is home, burying himself in work and not paying much attention to anything else. you’re not alone physically, but you are in every other sense of the word.
he’s at the dining table, case files spread out in neat, suffocating stacks. his glasses sit low on his nose, pen moving, stopping when he pauses to collect his thoughts, then moving again. hours pass like that. and you haven’t said a word.
he doesn’t notice. or maybe he does.
you make your way to sit across from him, chin resting in your palm, watching him work for a moment. it is a tough job to defend people in the justice system that seems unjust. you know his work is hard and time consuming, but it isn’t fair for him to leave you in limbo.
“hiromi” you say softly. he hums—acknowledgment without attention as his movements don’t still for a second.
“can we talk?” you ask. your voice is meek, like you’re trying to distract him without pulling his attention away.
“mm” he grumbles out. a page flips and his eyes scan over the piles. “give me a minute” he says. you wait. five minutes pass. then ten. his pen scratches against paper like it’s more important than anything you could possibly say. you try again.
“hiromi” you repeat. your voice sounds so weak. this time he looks up.
“what is it?” there’s no irritation in his voice, but there is a distance that makes you feel guilty for interrupting him in the first place. it almost makes it worse.
“i feel like we haven’t really spent quality time together in a while”. a pause. he looks over your expression, almost in disbelief that you stopped his work because of this. hiromi leans back slightly, like he’s shifting into a different role that isn’t your husband.
“i’ve been busy” he says, with an obvious tone.
“i know” you reply quickly. “but i thought maybe we could— i don’t know– have dinner tonight? maybe go out? something…” your voice trails on. the more options you give, the more pathetic you feel. like you’re trying to beg your husband to spend time with you as if it’s the hardest task in the world.
he considers it for a moment, but then faces reality. “maybe another time. working on a big case…” he says, going back to his notes. conversation over. just like that.
your nose twitches as tears prick at your vision. it’s not the first time he’s shot you down, but it discourages you more and more each time.
“okay”. you take a moment to look at him before trying again. “hiromi” you repeat. he closes his eyes and takes a deep breath through his nostrils.
“i’m listening” he says without looking up. you hesitate. then push forward anyway.
“i don’t think we’re… in a good place right now”. that gets his attention. his pen stills. slowly, he looks up at you. he’d be lying to himself if he said you had the perfect marriage at the moment. but he’s been so busy with work, as you have, that he has put you on the backburner.
“meaning?”. immediately he starts to question you, which is his specialty. it always backs you into a corner, leaving you with more questions than answers.
“well—” you exhale, trying to keep your voice steady. “we barely talk. you’re always working. i just feel like i’m… here, but not really with you”. it’s more than just that. it’s so much deeper. you feel like roommates. like your marriage has been declining for so long you can’t remember the good parts anymore. he doesn’t trust you. you don’t feel happy coming home to him anymore… just to name a few things.
there’s a pause. a long one. and you wait while he gathers his thoughts.
“i’m doing this for us” he says finally. your chest tightens.
“i know you are, but—”
“i have a case right now that requires my full attention” he continues, like you didn’t speak. “once it’s over, we can talk about this” he says. you know just as well as him that cases can span months. he’s asking you to wait, to table this conversation for when it’s convenient for him, not you.
all you can do is stare at him. because he believes that. he genuinely believes that.
“and until then?” you ask quietly. you’re not sure why you ask. because you know the answer he will give.
“i need you to be patient”. he says definitively. your heart sinks in your chest.
“okay” you say with teary eyes. because what else can you say? hiromi doesn’t see it, already immersed back into his work.
—
at night, you lie in bed staring at the ceiling while he’s still working. always working. your tears silently slip to your temples, feeling confused on how to mend your relationship and get it back to where it used to be. if that was even possible.
you want to be able to love each other again, to trust each other and to get butterflies in your stomach at the thought of him. but it hasn’t felt that way in a long time. and you hate yourself a little for what your mind does next. because it drifts. uninvited and unwanted to the warmth of champagne in your system and the way your head felt just a little too light… and the way nanami looked at you. like when you spoke, he was actually listening. like you weren’t something he had to fit between obligations.
you squeeze your eyes shut, more tears slipping past. it doesn’t help. because now you’re comparing. you shouldn’t. you don’t mean to. but it happens anyway. hiromi is brilliant, focused, driven in a way that makes you admire him. those were the characteristics you fell in love with when you met him. but recently, it has all taken a turn for the worst. and where your husband lacks… nanami makes up for it.
nanami is attentive, sharp, stern, but never distant. he’s quiet, but never absent. when you speak, he doesn’t make you feel like you’re interrupting something more important.
your stomach twists. you bring your hands to your face to try to rub away the thoughts from your brain. this is wrong. so wrong. you should never compare another man to your husband. you tell yourself it was the champagne. that night didn’t mean anything. you imagined it all. you had to have. you turn onto your side, pulling the blanket tighter around yourself in an attempt to drown out the noise in your head.
hiromi comes to bed hours later. you feel the dip of the mattress, the familiar weight beside you. and that’s it. no shoulder rub of acknowledgement, or a soft “goodnight”. just his back toward you and the cold, empty inches between you.
—
by monday morning, you’re exhausted. not physically. but mentally and emotionally exhausted. feeling both weighed down by the realization that your marriage may be beyond repair and the other hand the thought of your boss creeping into your late night thoughts.
the second you step into the office, there’s something off. your pulse is too fast. your hands feel just slightly unsteady as you set your things down.
you make it a full hour before you have to see him. nanami – the man who has been invading your thoughts all weekend. you have to update him on the details of your trip this week, finalizing the details for your meetings with the team out in shibuya. you gather your tablet, double-check your notes—even though you never need to double-check—and head toward his office.
when you step inside your stomach flips immediately. nanami looks up from his desk, eyes landing on you. nothing unusual, but your body reacts anyway.
“good morning” he says.
“good morning” you reply, forcing yourself not to stutter. since when do you stutter around him?
you keep your eyes down on your tablet, suddenly finding interest in it. “ijichi will pick us up in the morning to head to the airport, dinner with the financial team got pushed back to 7:30pm the night we land, and our rooms are all taken care of” you announce. you feel heat crawl up your neck. don’t look at him. don’t— you look anyway. big mistake. nanami is already watching you. not intensely. just… noticing. and that makes it worse. you want to disappear.
there’s a pause. then— “are you alright?” your heart stutters. he knows you too well
you nod immediately. too fast. “yes. yes, i’m fine.” his gaze doesn’t move. steady. searching—not invasive, just… concerned? that almost makes it worse.
“i just—” you exhale quietly, forcing yourself to straighten. “didn’t sleep well.” that’s believable. he studies you for a second longer. then nods.
“i see.” silence settles between you. not uncomfortable. but not easy either. not like it usually is. you grip your tablet a little tighter, forcing your thoughts to line up. pull it together. this is ridiculous. nothing happened. you imagined it – it was the champagne, the lighting, the moment – that’s all.
“shall we begin?” he asks. professional. grounded. exactly what you need. you take a deep breath to calm your nerves and nod.
“yes”
—-
your trip couldn’t come soon enough. life at home felt the loneliness it has in months and you deserved a break. although it’s still a work trip, the thought of not waking on eggshells in your own home relieves you more than it should.
the second you step onto the plane, you keep your eyes forward, avoiding looking out the windows as you pass them and trying to not let your thoughts wander beyond the glass. you’ve never been fond of flying – too many variables outside of your control for you to feel relaxed. you’re strapped into a seat thousands of feet in the air, trusting someone else, unable to leave…it’s never made sense to you.
by the time you reach your seat, your chest already feels tight. you sit quickly, setting your bag beneath the seat and buckling your seatbelt tightly. before you can look, you reach over and pull the shade down of the window beside you. your hands smooth over your pants in a motion that’s more habit than intention. you exhale, settling back and failing to calm down.
“first time?” nanami’s voice comes from beside you—calm and even, like always. you glance over. he looks relaxed, one arm resting along the armrest next yours. but his gaze isn’t on your face. it’s in your hands.
your eyes follow his, noticing your fingers are curled tightly around your armrests, knuckles pale with tension. you hadn’t even realized.
hesitantly, you ease your grip. “just… not the biggest fan of flying” you admit. he hums softly, reaching the water bottle he bought for himself and offering it to you. he twists the cap loose before handing it to you. you take it, gratefully and the water immediately soothes your dry throat. nanami softly explains to you that flying is statistically much safer than driving and you have nothing to worry about. you believe him, closing your eyes and letting his calm voice relax you.
it takes a bit for the plane to taxi. it’s slow and manageable at first as it pulls away from the gate. you repeat nanami’s information to yourself, needing his voice to keep your anxiety at bay. but then it’s time to fly, and the plane surges forward at a speed that makes your stomach drop.
uncontrollably, your breath hitches. nanami notices immediately. of course he does. without a word, he adjusts slightly in his seat, his arm brushing yours just enough to be grounding.
“tell me the itinerary for the week, again” he suggests softly. you almost scoff, having reminded him a few times within the last few days to make sure your schedule was sound. “we have a full day upon arrival. it would be beneficial to review” he suggests. you inhale and let out a shaky breath as you reach for your tablet, searching through the itinerary you made for the group you meticulously planned.
“check-in starts at three, we will order room service for lunch, dinner with the investors starts at 7:30, ” you start.“followed by—” your stomach drops again as you feel the pressure change. the wheels off the plane lift from the contact of the tarmac, making your words falter. you shut your eyes, hold your breath and your hand grips the nearest thing.
it’s solid, still and warm, and it’s not the armrest, this time. nanami’s hand feels huge under yours. your heart pounds harder now. you think back to the intrusive thoughts you’d had about him all week and how your mind was curious about him in ways it shouldn’t be. you want to pull back but you’re frozen. you need him - his grounding presence and warmth - to get you through this.
“i’m s-sorry, sir. i didn’t—” you start, your voice trembling as you realize your fingers have clamped down over the back of his hand. but nanami doesn’t flinch.
“i don’t mind” his voice is calm, unshaken as usual. he hasn’t tried to move. his expression softens. it is deliberate, and steals what little air you have left. does he feel the way your pulse is thundering against his palm? you want to know what lies behind those sharp eyes, to know if he’s as unaffected as he appears.it would be inappropriate for him to initiate anything further, so instead, he speaks to you.
“you were saying?” he encourages softly. your brain scrambles to find the itinerary, reciting the details of the shibuya meetings. you cling to the professional jargon, using it as a shield against the heavy, magnetic tension pulling you toward him. the plane levels out, the cabin dinging to signal the seatbelt sign is off, but neither of you moves. for a moment, the silence between you feels loud, thick with the unsaid questions you're too afraid to ask and he’s too disciplined to answer.
slowly, you withdraw your hand, losing the warmth of him. nanami adjusts his sleeve and returns his attention to his documents. it’s as if the last five minutes never happened, as if your skin hadn't been searing against his.
you stare at your tablet, the words blurring. you’re more aware of him now than you ever have been—the scent of his cologne, the steady rhythm of his breathing, the intensity of his presence. you find yourself wondering if his heart is racing too, or if he is truly the iron-willed man he portrays. you’re suddenly very aware of the space between you and how easy it would be to close it again.
but you don’t. you can’t. so you go over the information to relay to the investors again. even as your mind betrays you— because now, it’s not just the flight making your pulse race.
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𝐌⛧𝐑𝐃𝐄𝐑#𝟕 — 𝐇𝐢𝐠𝐮𝐫𝐮𝐦𝐚, 𝐇𝐢𝐫𝐨𝐦𝐢
⛧ 𝐭𝐢𝐦𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐝𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐡: nov 30th, 10:37pm
⛧ 𝐜𝐚𝐮𝐬𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐝𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐡: garters + assistant manager! reader + pleasure dom! higuruma+ cunnalingus + fingering + office sex + overworked!higuruma + creampie + shower sex + squirting + use of squirt as coffee creamer + public sex + standing sex + fluff + higuruma courts you like an old man jdfbhsdb + higuruma folds you like a pancake + reader is a bit delulu and spirals lol.
⛧ 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭𝐬: 6390 (~4.5K of it is pure smut lol)
𝐚𝐧: sorry this took so long! i ended up changing the theme a bit on this one cause using the same got so boring to me after a while, ya know? i dont think ill do that again for a series if its not the same story. art creds: both @/reaperpie
𝐧𝐧𝐧 𝐦.𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭
If this goes on any longer, you're going to have to apply for flood insurance.
For your panties.
And for what? Simply standing beside Higuruma?
Yup, that'll do it.
Mere proximity to the man who once had you bent over the very desk he's chained to now.
You busy yourself at the file cabinet, fighting to keep your breathing even. But it doesn't stop your eyes from drifting to him—his pen moving and brow furrowed while fully consumed in drafting a judgment entry.
He won. Well, the case got dismissed.
Same difference.
You're just relieved it's finally over.
It's been over a month since this case consumed him and consequently also over a month since you last had his fingers buried inside you.
Shit.
You can still feel the phantom strokes of them curling deep enough to rearrange your guts and dragging out moans you didn't know could be made in pleasure. "There. Right there, babydoll. Let it all go for me."
And you did—skirt bunched, stockings torn and your slick dripping down his hand onto cuffs he hadn't bothered to roll back—
"Grab me the folder with the October 3rd case files, please, dear."
Higuruma's request snaps you out of your daydreams—body jerking as heat burns your cheeks.
"O-Of course!"
You know exactly where to go, at least. Every misplaced document, every obscure reference—you've long since mapped the chaos of Higuruma Hiromi's filing system.
Locating the folder within seconds, the brief contact of his fingers grazing yours as you hand it over makes you clench.
"Thank you, doll."
Higuruma doesn't look up, his eyes are already scanning the document. Clearly your touch doesn't stir anything in him.
Right.
You get it. You do.
It's not cruelty—just a single-minded determination from a habitually overworked and underfucked attorney moonlighting as a sorcerer.
Higuruma is well practiced in putting his own needs to the side for others, his entire life has been dedicated to it—you can't bear to fault him for that.
So you retreat. Back to the sofa in the corner of his office, the sting tucked behind a tired smile. Higuruma isn't the only one who knows how to compartmentalize.
Still, the thought lingers—is there even a point in staying?
He doesn't need you. Not really.
Higuruma managed for years as a public defender before the Culling Games. He's more than capable of grabbing his own files.
Besides, it's not like the jujutsu higher-ups assigned you here for your legal expertise. The "Executive Legal Assistant" line is just civilian window dressing— a polite way of saying leash.
Your real title? Assistant Manager of Jujutsu Tech.
A handler for a newly ranked special-grade sorcerer too stubborn to give up his day job entirely.
Higuruma compromised just enough to move to private practice, but still takes most cases pro bono after a reduced retainer.
He knows exactly why you're here—and he's never once made you feel lesser for it.
Which makes the guilt so much worse. He's buried in this case: a scholarship kid bullied into a false confession, parents who scraped together everything for his retainer.
Meanwhile, you're sulking because he won't touch you.
God, his noble to a fault principles make you damn near feral though.
Pouting from your spot on the sofa, you steal another glance at Higuruma.
You decided long ago it's enormously unfair for a man to wear exhaustion as well as he does. The warm glow of the desk lamp traces his profile—his sharp nose, strong jaw, the thick column of his throat and the strain visibly knotted across his broad shoulders.
The same coiled tension he'd carried that night a month ago that obliterated all lines of professionalism.
It’d been straight off a mission. Higuruma dealt with dual first-grade curses, nasty work—and then went right back to his desk. But he was wound too tight and although determined to finish his work, could not keep his fingers from digging into the crook of his neck.
When you offered to help him, you were only being considerate.
A friendly massage. Honestly, that's all it was.
Higuruma even tried to refuse you but one firm press into his stiff muscles and he groaned. The sound was purely guttural, vibrating through your palms and straight to your cunt.
Immediately all protests silenced as his head drooped forward, breath going ragged. His grunts continued and by the time you fully worked out the second knot, you were dripping.
It took everything in you to steady your hands, to hide how much his pleasure was affecting you. But then you slipped—and a soft, needy sound fumbled out of you, impossible to swallow back. Your breath fanned warm across his neck, scattering goosebumps along his nape.
Everything after that blurred together.
His hands hauling you into his lap.
His mouth devouring yours.
The expensive oak desk slamming against the wall as he drove into you like a man possessed, your name caught between his teeth like a prayer.
You don't remember how it ended—only that eventually, Higuruma untangled himself from you and led you wordlessly to the private shower attached to his office.
One of the few perks of private practice he'd actually come to appreciate.
He washed you with reverence—slow, thorough, like you were something precious. And then he ruined that image entirely by dropping to his knees and lewdly slurping his cum out of your cunt like it was his last meal. Nose buried in your clit, tongue pushing deep, water pouring down his face. He was half-drowning—between the shower and your squirt—and couldn't have cared less.
Legs like goo, you still don't know how you remained standing through it all.
You were still catching your breath as you toweled off when he murmured something about feeding you, fingers tracing your hip.
Twenty minutes later: you were at an all-night izakaya, just the two of you.
Your first date, technically. Confirmed by the way he slid into the booth beside you instead of across—his hand finding your thigh like it belonged there. It never left. Only crept higher, fingertips ghosting over your clit through thin silk while you pretended to study the menu.
The owner lingered too long taking your order, teasing you for something as plain as eggs and furikake rice, his tone edging toward flirtation as he challenged if your date was too cheap to buy you a real meal. You stumbled over your defense of Higuruma as Higuruma's knuckle replaced his fingertips, grinding against your clit.
That's when you learned how possessive Higuruma Hiromi could be.
"That man is testing my patience," Higuruma murmured the second the owner turned away. His mouth barely moved against your ear, voice terrifyingly calm, knuckle still working slow circles through your folds. "Should I sit you right here in my lap? Let him watch you come undone, doll, hm?"
You were already plenty undone though—your slick leaking onto beat-up vinyl seat. “Don’t worry, I won’t. This noisy girl attracts too much unnecessary attention—” Higuruma leans forward to shield you from view as more patrons walk in “—we don’t need a public indecency charge, hm?”
He wasn't wrong. The slick click-click of your pussy squelches were already obscene—a few patrons' eyes flickered around, searching for the source—and it only got louder as he nudged past the lace, stroking you wider, fingertip dipping teasingly into your core.
“H-Hiro…”
With a sly quirk of his lip, he pulls back, reaching casually for his coffee before slipping the mug under the table.
“Alright, alright. At least allow me some of your cream for my coffee as a consolation, dear.”
He paid, of course. You tried to protest, but it's hard to argue when you can barely stand—legs still trembling from an hour of relentless teasing.
He'd ordered three cups of coffee total. Every single one required a fresh dollop of your cream.
By the time you reached his condo, you needed him desperately again. Engine off, keys still in the ignition—you climbed into the backseat and sank onto his cock. You rode him until dawn crept through the fogged glass and your legs gave out.
He invited you to stay but you were possibly in enough trouble already if your family noticed you hadn’t returned. Working late was understandable—but there’d be hell if you missed breakfast without prior notice.
That was a Saturday.
Come Monday, this case landed on his desk, and he hadn't touched you since.
Instead?
Fresh flowers rotating through the vase on your desk.
The occasional delivery of white strawberries.
Macarons from the French bakery Higuruma pretended to overbuy when you knew he only bought them for you.
The closest to real intimacy you got all month were stolen moments where he’d sweep your hand into his, lips brushing your knuckles when he was certain no one else could see.
Sure these breadcrumbs were enough to keep you hoping but not nearly enough to keep you sane.
Who the hell courts you like a Regency novel heroine—after you’ve already spent a night all over each other fucking like rabbits?!
You don't think even Elizabeth Bennet suffered this kind of agonizing tension—she certainly didn't have the memory of Mr. Darcy's tongue swirling in her cunt to keep her up at night.
But what could you do? You couldn't seem needy or immature—not to a man a decade your senior. Not if you wanted this to mean something.
You were doing fine. Keeping it together. Right up until last week.
Junior lawyers crowded the watercooler, loud and willfully oblivious to the fact that women also use the break room—braying about No Nut November like overgrown frat boys comparing notes. You kept your back to them, cursing the espresso machine to hurry the hell up.
Relief flooded you when Higuruma appeared in the doorway.
Finally, an escape.
Then he opened his mouth.
"Some of us don't find distractions quite so difficult to set aside when the work matters." His gaze swept over them. "I'd recommend you develop the same discipline, gentlemen."
Distractions.
You'd previously told yourself this case had forced you both into accidental celibacy. No Nut November participants by circumstance, not choice. But the way he'd said it—distractions—so cool, so clinical, like sexual urges were just clutter to tidy away.
You'd think a man who fucked you that desperately would be crawling back for more?!
But he hadn't.
And that distance made you wonder if you'd gotten it all wrong. Maybe the gifts weren't courtship—just consideration. The polite gestures of a man who'd used you and wanted to keep things friendly on the rare occasion he needed an indulgence.
Like a work wife with benefits.
The fact the office cleared out hours ago and he’s hardly looked at you for more than a few seconds convinces you of this more and more, the thoughts spiraling as—
"You know I hate to keep you late." The words yank you out of your head. Right. You're still here. He's still here. "If you need to leave, dove, I can manage."
Your stomach drops. Higuruma asked you to stay tonight, so you thought maybe—
"No, I'm fine. Really." Unconvincing, even to yourself.
"Mm." He nods—eyes already back on his files.
Dismissed in a syllable.
Trying to push aside the hurt, the files in your lap blur as you pretend to read them, legs crossing and uncrossing, the leather groaning beneath your restless shifting. Now on top of everything else, your feet are screaming—new stilettos, three inches higher than normal.
You'd dressed to kill all month hoping a part of him would be superficial enough notice.
Wincing, your arches are aching from your red-bottoms. You're starting to suspect it's less about the lacquer and more about the crime scene your heels will leave behind if your arches just so happen to split in two. Still, they make your legs look sinful—and you'll plead guilty to first-degree pick me-ism if it gets Higuruma to look up from his goddamn papers for more than a minute.
"Take them off.”
Flustered, your eyes snap up to see Higuruma appraising you over the document in his hands.
When did he start watching you again?
"Your shoes, dove."
Higuruma follows up when you don’t respond, faint amusement lingering on his words.
"It's fine, really—" You wave off his concern, gesturing vaguely at your feet. "They're still new. Haven't broken them in quite yet."
"You've been wincing for the last twenty minutes." Higuruma’s voice is firm but not unkind as he regards you. His eyes linger on your legs long enough for you to notice this time.
"Take them off."
"I don't want to be unprofessional—"
"It's nearly midnight." The corner of his mouth twitches a sly smile. "And…I think we're well past professional civilities, don't you?"
Are we?
You swallow the retort as Higuruma examines another folder on his desk. Part of you wants to be a big brat about it—to punish him for ignoring you. You want to crawl onto his desk force his eyes onto you.
But the thought alone makes you shy away. You're much too proud for that.
So you ease the shoe off slowly, quietly, propping your stockinged foot on the sofa's edge to reach the second strap. Your wool skirt rides up your thighs in the process—but you're almost certain he's not watching anyway.
Except you hear papers fluttering and when you glance up, Higuruma's pen is frozen mid-stroke.
His gaze isn't on your feet.
It's fixed on your thighs, more specifically, the black lace of your garters clipped to stockings that have your soft flesh swelling over them.
His throat bobs as he white-knuckles the pen in his grasp.
For a long moment, he doesn't move. Doesn't breathe. Just looks at you as his eyes trail lower and the proof of how needy you've been for him all night is evident in the way your panties clinging to every fold.
Higuruma resembles a man who's been presented a ten-course meal after a strict fast.
Yet his next words still surprise you.
"You've been punishing yourself."
"What?"
"For my attention. You've been wearing new heels, every night this week." Higuruma’s tone is stripped of its usual composure although he's still clinical in his assessment. "You usually wear the round-toed black pair. Two inches, cushioned sole. These—" His gaze flicks to the discarded shoes, then back to you. "Your legs don't need the extra height, doll. Never did."
Heat floods your cheeks. He'd noticed?!
This whole time, drowning in case files, barely sparing you a glance—
"The blouse is new too." Higuruma notes, almost to himself, like he’s reading off the facts in a case file. "Tuesday it was the silk one. Wednesday, the black skirt with the small slit at the back."
Your heart slams against your ribs as he continues to recall your outfits.
"I-I thought you weren't paying attention."
"I wasn't giving you any." Higuruma’s mouth twists—bitter and self-directed in his ire. "That's not the same thing."
"It's okay. You've been busy—"
"Don't."
The word is soft but final as he rises from his desk walking over to you on the sofa.
"Don't make excuses for me—or I'll hate myself even more than I already do..."
Higuruma drags a hand down his face as he deflates with a tired exhale. "Watching you walk in every morning looking like that. Knowing exactly what sounds you make when I—"
He stops. You watch him swallow it down—whatever he was about to say, whatever he was about to do. His eyes have gone nearly black, looking like he may pounce on you at any moment.
"I couldn't only give you ten minutes between depositions. Couldn't touch you the way you deserve and then casually ask you to hand me a file or drive me to the next mission like nothing happened."
Your head is spinning at the revelations, wanting to say something but you are at an utter loss.
"So I kept my distance." He confesses. "Thought if I could just finish this case—I could give you a night where I could take my time with you. Take you apart properly, then put you back together after."
Higuruma is standing over you now, his presence like a physical weight. "Like a fool, I was so consumed with self-martyrdom I never stopped to consider if I was forcing yours."
You move to stand, to reach for him—
“Stay.”
It's less command than it is a contrite supplication.
"Stay right there, doll," Higuruma repeats—and the crack in his voice betrays him—as does the tent in his slacks.
The sound he makes when he catches you staring is barely human—a low, rumbling growl. You watch his cock twitch harder against his slacks.
You search for his eyes, but his focus is locked on your tongue sweeping across your lips.
Higuruma loosens his tie, slowly as his eyes begin their descent—down your throat, your breasts, your stomach—until it lands between your thighs and stays there. Fixed on the wet patch darkening your lace.
He crouches before you, hands finding your calf. His thumb strokes the curve of the stocking covered muscle with reverence, he's memorizing the shape of you not only by sight but touch as well.
"Bring the other up." You've never heard him sound like this—barely holding on. "Y-Yes, just like that. Now lay back—hips forward."
Pulse hammering, you sink deeper into the cushions, propping your leg up as his hands find your hips, guiding them forward, bunching your skirt around your waist.
"Good girl."
Your pussy is fully on display now and Higuruma makes a wounded noise as his eyes rake over the panties that have given up pretending to hold in your swollen folds long ago.
"Christ."
The word punches out of him. His fingers skim the lace edge—barely grazing—and still come back glistening with your slick.
Higuruma swallows hard. "It's criminal the way my girl's been hiding all this under those prim little suits."
His girl.
Higuruma lifts one of your legs, extending it slowly until your stockinged foot rests flat against his chest. His heart pounds beneath your arch, the beat syncing with the pulsating ache of your clit.
His hands work down your leg, firm and thorough, pressing into sore muscles until pleasure bleeds through the ache. Your head tilts back as you stifle a moan and his grip tightens in response.
"I know I don't deserve it, dove, but at least allow me to hear you while I worship you, my dear."
Simultaneously, his thumbs dig into the ball of your foot, and the tension you've been carrying all night unspools in a single, embarrassingly loud whimper.
From the devious look on his face, it's exactly what he wanted.
Higuruma presses a kiss to your Achilles—another apology—and you shiver. He sets your foot down gently, repeats the ritual on the other side. Just as slow. Just as thorough.
A knowing smirk tugs at his lips as he guides your legs up, stockinged feet sliding over his shoulders until you're spread open before him. He leans forward, nuzzling into the fold of your knee—and the scrape of his stubble makes your hips jerk.
“You know, at times I swore I could smell how badly she missed me.” He murmurs into your stockings. “Right through your pretty little skirts."
Higuruma’s actions follow his words, tracing a slow path with his aquiline nose from your knee to your pussy. "Mmm. I was right. She's been weeping so sweetly through your panties like a needy little thing for weeks, hasn't she?"
Your whines answer for you.
"What about No Nut November?" you whisper, breathless, raising your hips to push his nose in deeper. "I wouldn't want to be a distraction..."
Higuruma inhales deeply, savoring your raw scent. "Never." He exhales breathlessly.
"Everything else has been a distraction from you." His voice drops to gravel, vibrating through you.
You haven’t even savored the admission properly before there's a sharp snap and his teeth bite through one of your garters, tugging the ruined elastic away with a growl before repeating the action.
"Please, Hiro—" You mewl, thighs trembling.
He looks up at you with those dark, knowing eyes. Exhausted and hungry in equal measure.
"This is part of my sentence, doll." His thumb strokes the crease of your thigh, maddeningly gentle. "Trust me—it's far more agonizing for me."
You doubt that.
But you don't dare contradict him—not when there's something sadistic lurking behind all that apology. Something that tells you a part of him would get off on deny you just a tiny bit longer.
His tongue drags flat over your panties, pressing wet fabric into your slit, sucking your slick through the lace like he's trying to wring every drop out.
"These are in my way." He doesn't bother with his teeth this time—just hooks his fingers in the lace and tears.
Riiiip.
You squeal as cool air hits your bare cunt for half a second before his mouth replaces it. The second his tongue splits your folds, every other thought dissolves.
Your head falls back against the cushions as his tongue drags through your folds with long, broad strokes. Like he's been dreaming about this exact taste for a month and finally, finally gets to indulge.
His lips seal over your clit and suck, hard enough that your hips buck off the sofa. His hands dig into the meat of your thighs, pinning you open, holding you still as they quake in his grasp.
"Told you to stay."
The command growled against your cunt, but your body isn’t listening, still squirming as he dips into your entrance, gathering your slick before dragging it back up to your clit—then he spits, letting your own arousal drip onto your swollen nub before his mouth descends again.
"H-Hiro!"
Higuruma doesn't answer.
He's much too occupied with his repentance. Tongue extended, his face is pulled back just enough so you can see the exact pattern being cruelly branded on your sensitive bud as he roughly flicks under your clitoral hood, pushing it back. It's methodical and devastatingly thorough—like he's building a case with his mouth and your orgasm is the verdict.
Though for a defense attorney, the way he's attacking your cunt feels suspiciously prosecutorial.
Your hips tilt up, desperate to ride his face, and he lets you—lips releasing your clit only to plunge his tongue straight into your core, rimming your entrance before fucking into you rapidly. Every thrust grinds his nose further into your clit. His hands find your ass, gripping soft flesh, spreading your cheeks as he lifts your hips to help you rock against his mouth.
This man would happily perish between your thighs.
You're certain of it now.
His own broken groans echo inside your cunt, high off the fact of simply giving you pleasure—and that's what sends you over. You cum hard, thighs clamping around his head, back arching off the sofa as the orgasm tears through you in waves, ecstasy coursing in your veins.
But he doesn't stop.
His tongue keeps working, lapping up your release, his face slick and shining with you. When you try to squirm away—oversensitive and trembling—his grip tightens on your thighs, dragging you back to his mouth.
"I'm not done with you yet, doll."
The words come out ragged, muffled against your puffy cunny as Higuruma's cheek rests against your inner thigh, lips swollen and spit-slick, still connected to your pussy by a thin string of your arousal. He's panting—actually panting—looking genuinely pained by the fact that he has to stop to breathe oxygen instead of burying himself deeper in your folds.
You don't think you could deny Higuruma anything like this.
"One more, Hiro." His breathing quickens at your permission. "T-Then fuck me. Please."
Higuruma doesn't bother with words. Just action—diving back into your depths like a man possessed.
One of his hands releases your thigh, finds your wrist and drags your fingers into his hair.
"Pull." The command is muffled but unmistakable.
You oblige—or rather, you're forced to when his teeth graze your clit and your nails dig into his scalp on instinct. Higuruma growls in pleasure, the sound rumbling through your core.
He has to be aching. Hard enough to hurt, trapped in those slacks. You can't see him from this angle, but you wouldn't be surprised if he's leaking through his slacks from the way he's moaning into your pussy, drunk on the taste of you. A pool of your creamy juices has already gathered on the leather beneath you, obscene and growing in size by the second.
Delirious words spill from his lips between licks—praise and filth whispered directly into your cunt like prayers.
"So sweet—"
A broad lick from entrance to clit.
"So pretty—"
His tongue fucks into you, curling.
"—my divine atonement—"
Your slick coats his chin, his cheeks, drips down his jaw, and he only gets hungrier. More desperate. More crazed. Every gush of arousal you give him is an aphrodisiac—he laps it up like a man dying of thirst, shows no signs of stopping, no signs this will be your last orgasm, only growing more feral as you unravel beneath him.
"P-Pleaseeeee ohh—!"
The second climax builds faster than the first—sharper, meaner, your whole body wound tight as a wire. His tongue relentlessly assaults your clit while two fingers sink into your cunt without warning, crooking against that spot inside you, and your vision whites out.
"That's my pretty girl."
Higuruma pulls back just enough to let you ride out the aftershocks, fingers still drawing merciless circles on your oversensitive clit.
Somewhere behind the roar of blood in your ears, you hear a belt click as fabric shifts. You force your eyes to focus—watching his slacks fall as he stands, his cock springing free—flushed and heavy, bobbing as his cockhead smeared with pre drips down the length of him.
Fuck. Somehow Higuruma looks even bigger than you remember, thick enough to make your whole body clench with want and fear in equal measure.
He kneels, dragging your hips to the edge. His hand wraps around himself, stroking, and you hold your breath—finally, finally—
But he just slaps his cock against your clit. Tap, tap, tap. Precum and spit and slick mixing obscenely
You squirm, clearly overstimmed which draws a smug chuckle from him.
"Is it terrible that I enjoy teasing you?"
"Hiro—" You whine, hips jerking toward him. You pout up at him sweetly—and watch his cock twitch in response. His resolve visibly cracking.
"Yes, doll. Say it again." Higuruma's cock notches at your entrance, pressing but not pushing. "Scream it this time, for me yes?"
You expect more teasing, more torture.
Instead, he snaps his hips forward in one brutal thrust—splitting you open until he's buried to the hilt.
You scream his name so loud you don't even hear it leave your throat.
You might have cum again—you only know because of the string of expletives spilling from Higuruma's mouth, his composure finally shattered.
"F-Fuck, dove—" He's panting, forehead pressed to yours. "She's choking me. You need to relax." A strained laugh escapes him. "She feels like a noose—and I'd prefer to avoid capital punishment tonight, if it's all the same to you."
You can't answer, tears streaming as you gasp from him filling you so completely. Higuruma leans down and licks them up too, tongue tracing the salt tracks on your skin. You're starting to think he's genuinely obsessed with your bodily fluids.
Higuruma pecks your lips gently, letting you adjust.
"Have you not been touching yourself?" His voice is softer now, curiously teasing as he admires the state simply sticking his cock in has reduced you to. "Have you been waiting for me all this time?"
"I w-wasn't g-gonna" You swallow, cunt fluttering around him. "B-But it wasn't enough. It wasn't y-you."
"'Wasn't gonna', huh?" He mocks you, his rich baritone tickling your senses as his thumb returns to your clit to flick over her languidly.
"Naughty girl." He kisses the corner of your mouth. "But I suppose I'll argue a plea deal in your defense this once. It was my fault after all for neglecting you."
Your thighs burn from being spread around his broad hips, the sheer weight of him pressing you into the sofa, his knees braced on the floor. When you finally loosen around him—walls relaxing, body surrendering to him—he slips his tongue into your mouth as his hips begin to move.
Small thrusts at first. Micro-movements. Like he can't bear to have even an inch of himself outside the warm embrace of your slick walls.
Then his hand presses down on your lower belly, and your eyelashes flutter as your eyes roll back.
"There it is." He groans, grinding deeper. "Can you feel how she makes room for me?"
Higuruma doesn't give you the chance to answer before he picks up the pace, hand staying pressed to your stomach, savoring every twitch of your muscles. The exact movement of your guts shifting around him—how your body so lovingly allows him to ruin her from the inside out.
His teeth find your bottom lip, biting down as his other hand slides up to your throat, fingers wrapping around the column of your neck. He squeezes lightly, rhythmically, matching the desperate clench of your pretty pussy around him.
Higuruma wants to cum with you. But he can feel you're already there—already tipping over the edge—
"Hiro... 'm gonna—"
"Oh?" He doesn't slow down. If anything, he fucks you harder. "Without me, dear? How inconsiderate." His thumb presses into the side of your throat. "Go ahead. But I won't be granting leniency. You cum now and then you're going to keep coming until I say stop."
"P-Pleaseeee, m-mercyyy—" You're babbling, desperate. The word slips out before you can stop it: "—Judge."
Higuruma almost cums right then and there, hips stuttering.
"Oh, you're pushing it now, princess."
Your doe eyes blink up at him, and somewhere beneath the desperation, you find the brat in you after all.
"What's wrong, your honor?" The words drip from your lips like honey, saccharine and deliberately provocative. "Did I say something I shouldn't have?"
Higuruma's grip tightens on your throat—not enough to hurt, just enough to remind you who's in control here. His hips still, cock buried deep, twitching inside you.
"Careful, dove."
You clench around him deliberately.
Something in him snaps. No more warnings.
Higuruma pulls out and you're immediately feeling the loss of him—but before you can protest, his hands are hooking under your thighs and hauling your ass up off the sofa.
Drenched in your combined mess, and his grip slips once before he adjusts, hoisting you higher. Your legs end up over his shoulders, folded nearly in half, and you have nothing—no wall behind you, no leverage, nothing to hold onto but the thick column of his neck.
Completely at Higuruma's mercy.
Your nails dig into his skin on instinct—the only anchor you have.
"There we go." He groans at the bite of pain, positioning his cock at your entrance. "Hold on tight, princess."
He slams you down onto him in one brutal drop.
You scream.
The angle is devastating—deeper than before, impossibly deep, his cock splitting you open while gravity does the rest. You have no control here. Can't set the pace, can't shift positions—can't do anything but cling to him and take it. Every thrust jolts through your entire body, punching the air from your lungs.
Your nails rake down his neck and he hisses, but his eyes roll back in pleasure, not pain.
"Harder." He commands. "Mark me up. I want to feel you for days."
You're too fucked-out to process it fully—is he sadistic or masochistic? Both? Does it matter when he's bouncing you on his cock like you weigh nothing, arms flexing as he lifts and drops you with terrifying ease? You're nothing but a vessel now, suspended and speared utterly for his pleasure.
"I'm going to take care of you, princess. Take care of this pretty pussy." His palms grip your ass, fingers digging in white-knuckled, desperate for leverage as he fucks up into you. "Going to make sure she never goes hungry again. Every morning. Every night. Whenever she asks for it."
"Hiro—" You're sobbing, pleasure cresting unbearably high, just gasps and moans punched out of you with every thrust. "Please, I need to—I can't—"
"Not yet." Higuruma's jaw clenches, fighting his own release. "Hold it."
"I-I c-c-can't—" Your walls are fluttering around him, clenching involuntarily, and you see stars at the edges of your vision. "P-Please, please, J-Judge, I'll do anythinggggg—"
"Anything?" His hips stutter at the title, cock kicking inside you. "Dangerous words, doll. I'll hold you to them."
His grip on your ass tightens, nails biting into the soft flesh now—mirroring what you're doing to his neck. The wet slap of skin echoes obscenely through the office, your slick dripping down his thighs, pooling on the hardwood beneath you.
"From now on—" He's losing rhythm, thrusts turning erratic. "—this pussy gets what she needs... you'll come to me? You'll tell me exactly what she needs?"
"Y-Yes—y-yes!!! Jusss p-pleaseeee—"
"Every ache—" A brutal thrust. "—every need—" Another. "—you bring it to me. Understood?"
You're babbling incoherent confirmations, head lolling back, eyes rolling into your skull.
"Cum, then. Give it to me, babydoll—"
The orgasm tears through you like a live wire—blinding, violent, your pussy clamping down so hard he chokes on a moan. Your nails draw blood on his neck and he growls, burying himself to the hilt—
And then you feel it.
The first hot pulse of him flooding your insides. His cock kicking against your walls, swelling impossibly thicker as he empties himself into you. Rope after rope of cum painting your clenching cunt, so deep you swear you feel the warmth in your throat.
For a long moment, neither of you moves. The noises of your breathing filling the space.
His cock is still buried inside you, softening but not quite soft, and you can feel his cum leaking out around the seal of your bodies—dripping down your thighs, onto the floor, adding to the mess you've already made of his office.
Higuruma's forehead drops to yours, hips grinding through the aftershocks, working every last drop into you. "You feel that? How much I saved for you, dove?"
You can only whimper in response. You do feel it—the obscene heat spreading through your core, the way his cum has nowhere to go with his cock still plugging you full. When he shifts his hips, grinding deeper, some of it squelches out around the seal of your bodies.
"Taking it so well—" His voice is shot, barely above a rasp. "Milking every drop—good girl—"
Your legs are shaking. Your whole body is shaking.
"Hiro..." You're slurring, drunk on him. "Can't... can't feel my legs..."
A breathless laugh rumbles through his chest. "Mm." He presses a kiss to the corner of your mouth, then your cheek, then the tear tracks still drying on your skin. Unbearably tender after everything he just did to you. "That's what happens when you taunt a man who's been starving for a month, doll."
"Worth it," you giggle.
"Brat." But there's only fondness in his voice.
Slowly, carefully, he shifts his grip—one arm hooked under your ass, the other cradling your back as he finally lets your legs slide off his shoulders. You wince at the change in angle, cunt clenching involuntarily around him, and he groans.
"Easy." His voice is strained. "Keep doing that and we won't make it to the shower."
You're tempted to test him. But exhaustion wins out, your body going limp against his chest as he carries you toward the bathroom.
"Let's get you cleaned up." His lips brush your temple. "Then I'll take you home, hm?"
You pout. After everything—after a month of waiting, of longing, of convincing yourself you were nothing but a convenient release—you're not ready for this to end.
Not ready to go back to your empty apartment and pretend tonight didn't change everything.
Higuruma catches the look on your face and chuckles softly.
"I mean my home," he clarifies, nudging the bathroom door open with his shoulder. "We can clean up properly there. I'll cook you breakfast." He sets you down on the counter, and you shiver at the cold marble against your bare skin—but he doesn't pull out, not yet, his half-hard cock still nestled inside you like he can't bear the separation either. "Then I can worship you the way you deserve. Properly. Without a deadline or a case file waiting on my desk."
Your heart stutters. "You don't have to—"
"I want to." His hands cup your face, thumbs stroking your cheekbones, and his eyes—god, his eyes are so soft now. Tired and tender and looking at you like you're something precious. "I should have done this a month ago. Should have made time. Should have told you what you are to me instead of assuming you'd wait."
"I would have." The admission slips out before you can stop it. "Waited, I mean. For you. I would have."
Something fractures in his expression. He doesn't say anything—just pulls you closer, pressing his lips to your forehead like he's trying to seal a promise there.
"You shouldn't have had to. No more waiting. No more silence. From now on, you tell me what you need—and I'll give it to you. Understood?"
"Understood, counselor."
His lips twitch. "Careful. You keep using titles and we'll never leave this bathroom."
You grin, exhausted and fucked-out and deliriously happy. "Is that a threat or a promise?"
"Both." He kisses you then—tongue gliding against yours, your taste still lingering. When he pulls back, his cock twitches inside you, thickening again.
"Definitely both."
"Mm." You pull back, pretending to consider. "I don't know. A month is a looooong time. I might need extensive compensation."
"Is that so?" Higuruma quirks a brow.
"Yup! Emotional damages. Pain and suffering." You tick them off on your fingers. "Loss of consortium—"
"You don't know what half those terms mean."
"I know what I want them to mean." you say slyly, clenching around him once more.
Realistically, you don't think either of you are leaving this office tonight.
𝐚𝐧: ahhh i love writing higuruma as an EATERRRRRRRR. this one was a lil bit more angsty, well not really angsty, reader is just super horny and it's making her a delulu pick me cjksdbfkjvhsb. i mean the way he dicked her down tho, who could blame her? lol this one was a bit more cute endings than im used to writing. i feel like its a bit cheesy but w/e, we ball. im tired of editing it hfdjkvhbf. so also sorry for any errors or duplicate sentences as i reworked alot of this fbsdhbsd.
𝓵𝓲𝓴𝓮𝓭 𝓽𝓱𝓲𝓼? then please 𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭 or 𝐫𝐞𝐛𝐥𝐨𝐠! you can also join my gen. 𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 or contribute to the 𝐛𝐢𝐦𝐛𝐨$𝐟𝐮𝐧𝐝.
Your back's pressed against Nanami's chest, his thighs bracketing yours to keep your legs spread wide. Your panties and your shirt the only thing giving you some dignity, but still leaving you completely exposed and vulnerable .
Somehow your dinner conversation shifted to this after you’d told Nanami that you’d never came before—you weren’t a virgin—but you still had no clue as to how it really was supposed to feel. Even when you tried yourself it just… didn’t make sense?
You’d been dating for a few weeks now, and to be honest, with his work you guys never really had the time to discuss any of this, or even act on it. But when you finally opened up to him about previous disappointing experiences out of the blue he truly took it to heart.
"Comfortable?" His voice was quiet against your ear, one hand resting on your hip while the other traced slow patterns on your inner thigh.
"I'm fine," you breathed, though your pulse hammered in your throat at how lewd this whole situation all seemed.
"Good." His hand continued its path upward. "Now close those pretty eyes and let me do the work."
His fingers dragged up your thigh with feather touches, each movement in means the get your skin to tingle. He brushed your panties further to the side with his thumb one he reached your already dripping core, exposing you completely to the cool air of the ceiling fan, goosebumps raising on your skin before his fingers traced through your folds.
"Were you looking forward to this?" he comments with a faint laugh. He dragged his fingers through your slickness again, you gasped at the sensation, his rough fingers surprisingly soft against your soft flesh, coating them thoroughly. "Should’ve told me about this sooner."
He found your clit, circling it with pressure that made your breath catch, not too hard yet not too soft, just enough to make you your heart flutter with satisfaction. Your hips grind on forward, only making him press his thighs harder against yours, keeping your legs apart and hips locked on down.
"Shh baby doll," he cooed in your ear, his lips brushing the shell of your ear. "Stay still for me yeah?"
You could only whimper in response as he continued those maddening circles. The wet sounds of his fingers working you filled the room accompanied by your desperate soft moans and whines, heat crawled up your neck at how obscene it all sounded. Your hands gripped his forearms as you turned your face away, trying to bury your tiny sounds in the fabric of his clothes somehow, nails digging in slightly.
"Don’t," he hummed against your neck. His other hand slid up under your shirt to cup your breast, thumb brushing over your hardened nipple. "You sound amazing." He punctuated his words with a firmer circle on your clit that made you gasp. You let out a higher pitched mewl, back arching towards his touch. "That's it baby doll."
Your thighs tried to close instinctively at the building pleasure, but his legs held firm "Keep them open," he flexed his clothed thighs to hold yours in place. "You're doing so good for me."
"Nanami—" you started, squirming against him, your skin flushed dark under your boyfriend’s touch.
His fingers continued their work on your clit, occasionally dipping lower to gather more of your arousal. You were getting wetter by the second, so much you could feel it dripping down, soaking the sheets beneath you. You pushed back against him, feeling the hard length of him pressed against your lower back, equally as aroused as you were.
"Feels good doesn’t it?" his voice had dropped lower, rumbling against your back through his chest. He dragged his fingers through your folds, the glide completely effortless now. "No friction at all." You could feel his small smile against your neck.
He pulled away for a second, bringing in index and middle finger up so you could see yourself. They were drenched, glistening with your arousal, strings of it connecting his fingers when he spread them apart.
"Look," he said quietly, his breath warm against your ear. "Making such a pretty mess." He rolled your hardened nipple between the rough pads of his fingers. "I might get addicted to this."
He brought his fingers back down, this time slowly pushing his middle and ring finger inside, feeling your mushy walls with light strokes, his pinky and index resting on the plush skin of your ass as the other two dug in. Your entrance throbbed around him, clenching involuntarily at the intrusion, he himself made a quiet sound of approval against your neck, his length twitch against your back just from feeling you.
"N-Nanami..," you whispered, jaw hanging open. "I — more, please—"
"Asking so nicely," he cooed, pressing a kiss to your shoulder. He began pumping his finger in and out, letting you feel every inch, every drag of his knuckle against your walls, each thrust made you flutter around him. His thumb found your clit again, resuming those maddening slow circles, you felt the bundle of nerves beginning to swell under his constant attention. "You're doing so good love, does that feel good?"
"Yes," you gasped, one hand reaching back to tangle in his hair. "God, yes."
The sounds grew louder—wet, rhythmic, the slick glide of his finger pumping into you. His breathing grew heavier in your ear, more labored despite how in control he seemed.
"Fuck, just listen to you," he hummed, making your heart flutter at the sudden profanity, ooh were you getting him worked up.
"There you go," He scissored his fingers inside you, working you open as you felt yourself gush around them. Your walls fluttered rhythmically around his fingers as he moved, his heavy breathing ghosting your flushed skin constantly.
Your thighs trembled, trying to close again at the overwhelming—but godly— sensation, but his legs were quicker and held you firmly in place, spread wide and vulnerable. You ground back against him in protest, feeling the twitch of his length against your back.
"Stay open," he reminded you, his thumb pressed harder on your clit, making the bundle of nerves swell further under the relentless attention. Then his fingers curled without warning, a flash of white spreading behind your eyes at the new and welcomed sensation as a high pitched moan excaped you. "Tell me if it’s too much."
He curled his fingers again, hitting that spot inside that made your toes curl, made your back arch against him. His thumb kept circled your clit—the bud completely swelled up from arousal, the sensitivity was almost unbearable.
"Right there," he nearly moaned, satisfaction seeping through his strained voice. The hand that had been toying with your nipple left it’s spot to slide down your stomach, pressing down near your pelvis to keep you still. "I can’t wait to feel you around me." He whispered through the soft trail of kisses he left on your skin.
Your grip tightening in his hair as he stroked over that perfect spot again and again, his thumb working your clit in relentless circles. The combination became overwhelming—his fingers pumping into you, curling to hit that perfect spot, his thumb on your increasingly sensitive clit. His breathing was harsh in your ear now, punctuated by quiet groans he couldn't quite suppress himself. You could feel the tension in his body, the way his thighs flexed harder against yours.
"Does it feel tight here?" he pressed down on your pelvis where his hand held you, his voice softening. You could only nod, chasing that new feeling you were so desperate to reach.
His thighs pressed harder against yours, keeping you spread impossibly wide as your body tensed. His rhythm never faltered, nor did it speed up, keeping that same pace he’d been using on you for the last few minutes, making your climax come to you as softly as possible.
Then your whole body seized, your walls clenching rhythmically around his heavy fingers as that tightness in your gut finally broke. Your eyes were screwed shut, stars still dancing behind your eyelids accompanied by a sudden lightheadedness, a strangled mewl leaving your lips. You were making a mess of the bed *and* his fingers, but he didn’t seem to mind, a soft kiss finding its way to your cheek.
"That's it," he breathed, working you through it. "Just like that, good girl."
You went limp against him as the sensation faded, trembling with small aftershocks still pulsing through you at the last strokes on your spent bud. You were almost made that you’d never came before, never have felt this.
He slowly withdrew his fingers, they were completely soaked, your arousal coating them obscenely, dripping down his palm.
"Look at what you did," He let out a breathy laugh as he looked down at your exhausted form, your eyes meeting his for a second. The sight of you like this, eyes heavy, lips swollen from at that biting, and properly flushed made the fabric around him feel incredibly painful. He brought his coated fingers towards you, pressing down gently against your lower lip. "I’ll let you get a taste before I do."
You were taken aback, yet you found yourself parting your lips without thinking. He slid his fingers inside, his mouth slightly agap as well as he watched them slide in, letting you taste your own arousal—and somehow this still felt intimate, hot in ways you’d never thought of. His fingers moved slowly against your tongue, and you heard him groan softly above you.
"That’s it baby doll," he whispered, withdrawing his fingers slowly, that same hand now cupping your chin so you properly looked up at him, his thighs still keeping yours spread, still holding you open.
"Mind to share?" a small smile ghosted on his lips, a complete contrast from the scene.
Your heart stuttered as he leaned down, his lips capturing yours in a kiss that was somehow both sweet and demanding. His tongue swept across your lower lip before slipping inside, tasting your own arousal on your tongue. The groan that rumbled from his chest vibrated against your back, his hand still cradling your jaw softly. When he finally pulled back, his pupils were blown wide, eyes dark and completely yearning for more.
"Sweet," he whispered against your lips, thumb brushing your flushed cheek. “strong enough for another one?”
my first time writing a nanami short, another pokemon added to the collection ✨
Hi, I’m sorry if this wasn’t the correct place to message you (my first time messaging someone on here) I just wanted to tell you that I think your writing is amazing!!! I’m obsessed with your series Insatiable and was wondering if you are planning on writing anymore chapters for it? (No pressure! I’m just a curious admirer) Thank you!
hiii, this is absolutely the right place!! thank you so much for the love and support. yes, i am planning to write more and properly finish this story!! i had a lot on my plate (graduating college, heading straight into my full time job, stressing about life in general, etc…) and i didn’t open tumblr or write for months because of it. i didn’t want to rush the story or give it a half-ass attempt of an ending, which is why i felt more comfortable writing other shorter stories. but i promise i will get back to work and update more chapters!!
i also get in my own head about people losing interest in my multi-part fics. it always fills my cup when i get comments and messages in my inbox. thank you so much for the motivation!!! it means a lot!!!☺️🥰❤️ (also feel free to comment if you’d like me to tag you in the updated chapters!!)
summary: yuji likes you for who you are on the inside—so much so that everything else was never important enough to notice.
warning: reader is best friends with yuji, insecure reader, chubby!reader, mentions of bullying, yuji doesn't understand why someone would speak negatively of you, praise, fluff fluff fluff
word count: 1.2k
you’re not trying to eavesdrop, you’re really not. you’d forgotten your notebook, again, and doubled back toward the last class of the day, half-muttering to yourself when you hear your name.
“seriously, out of everyone here? you’d pick her?” your steps slow. there’s a weird feeling that creeps up your spine—curiosity at first, then something worse. you shouldn’t listen. you know you shouldn’t. but you hear it again –
“…y/n.” and this time, you recognize the voice. yuji. you freeze completely, hidden outside the classroom, just enough for the voices to slip through. you don’t move any closer—you don’t need to. your heart’s already beating too fast.
there’s a laugh. not his. “why?” you feel it before they even say it. “i mean… she’s nice and all, but—” a pause, like they’re deciding how blunt to be. “she’s kinda big, isn’t she?”
your stomach drops, heat rushing to your face so fast it burns. your hand immediately rests against your stomach, fingers curling like if you hold onto something hard enough, it won’t hurt as much. it’s not like you’ve never heard it before—whispers, jokes, looks that linger too long. but still, it hurts everytime. and hearing it like that makes it feel even worse.
you should leave. you should just turn around and pretend you never heard any of this. but you can’t move. you’re stuck there, rooted to the ground, waiting for a laugh, an agreement., for the inevitable “yeah, i guess you’re right.”
but instead there’s a pause.
yuji pictures you immediately—without trying. the way you laugh, head tipping back, eyes crinkling at the corners. he thinks about the way your hands feel when they brush against his—soft and warm. the way you hum under your breath when you think no one’s paying attention. the way you smile at him.
eating lunch together, always side by side instead of across—your trays touching before you even sit down. sharing things without thinking—snacks, notes, pieces of yourself. the way you notice when he’s off before he even says anything. study sessions that turn into talking and inevitably turns into laughing, notes long forgotten about. movie nights that stretch too long, the screen still glowing while the two of you fall asleep on the couch—your head tipped against his shoulder, his arm loosely around you like it’s second nature.
yuji thinks about the way your sleeves sometimes ride up just enough to show the softness of your arms. the way your clothes fit—not wrong, not right—just you. the softness in your cheeks when you smile. he remembers hugging you. not quick, polite hugs—but the kind that linger. the kind where his arms wrap around you fully, where he feels the softness of you under his hands, the gentle give when he pulls you closer. he remembers not pulling away right away. not because he was thinking about it, but because it felt nice.
it’s not something he’s ever thought about. it was never important. because he’s trying to see it the way they do, and he just… doesn’t. he thinks about sitting next to you, shoulders touching. about how right it feels. about how he’s never once looked at you and thought— that.
yuji’s brows pull together, confusion flickering across his face. “…is she?” he says.
you blink. itadori’s voice is quieter now. not defensive or offended. just… confused.. because he’s trying to understand what they mean. and why it’s supposed to matter.
“uh…yeah?” the other voice says, a little thrown off. “i mean—obviously.” another pause. your breath catches because you don’t know what he’s thinking. there’s a small shift of movement— he’s leaning back, holding the back of his head in the way he does when he’s thinking.
“…huh” he hums. that’s it. no immediate reaction or rush to respond. then a soft – “okay.”
you frown slightly, confusion cutting through the embarrassment. okay?
“i still like her”. your breath stutters. it’s so simple. so easy. like nothing about what was just said matters at all.
“you don’t care?” one of them presses.
yuji tilts his head slightly. “about what?”
they hesitate, looking at each other . “seriously?” the other guy presses. “even if she’s—”
“yeah” yuji cuts in, not sharp, just certain without hesitation. because the more he thinks about it, the less it matters. actually—no. it doesn’t matter at all.
you don’t realize you’ve leaned in slightly until you catch yourself. your heart is beating so loud you’re sure they can hear it.
“she's nice” he says, like that’s the most important thing—and to him, it is. “like… really nice. she goes out of her way for people. even when she doesn’t have to”. yuji leans back in his chair, daydreaming for a second. “and she’s funny” he adds, a small smile creeping in. “not like… loud funny. but she says stuff that catches you off guard”. there’s another pause.
“and…” he exhales a small laugh. “i just feel good around her, you know?” that’s the only way he knows how to explain it. because when yuji thinks about you he thinks about late nights on the couch, your head heavy against his shoulder. about your warmth, the way you exist so fully in his space that it feels wrong when you’re not there.
and yeah— he’s noticed your body. of course he has. he’s felt it. seen it. held it. and none of it, not one part, has ever felt like something negative.
he thinks about hugging you. the ones that linger, where his arms wrap around you fully, feeling the softness of you under his hands and the gentle give when he pulls you closer. he remembers not pulling back right away. because it felt nice.
yuji remembers the pool. the way you had claimed the whole time you didn’t want to go in, standing at the edge in that one-piece and oversized shirt and shaking your head when he got too close. “yuji, don’t you dare—” and he did anyway. yuji scooped you up like it was nothing as you squirmed and protested, laughing while you shrieked, arms instinctively wrapping around his shoulders and body pressed against his as he carried you, jumping into the water. he remembers how you looked after—hair soaked, clinging to your face and laughing despite yourself. and he couldn’t stop smiling.
he scratches the back of his neck, a little sheepish now. “and she’s pretty”. that confession slips out quieter than the rest, but he means it. there’s nothing uncertain in his voice.
pretty. yuji thinks you’re— your stomach flips. it’s not just that he said it. it’s how he said it. like it wasn’t something he had to convince himself of. as if the topic wasn’t tied to something you’ve been insecure about your whole life.
your face is burning, and your heart feels like it’s about to beat straight out of your chest. you’re still standing there, hidden just out of sight, but so seen at the same time.
a minute ago you were bracing yourself to be the punchline. now your chest feels warm and you’re filled with a feeling you’re not quite sure what to do with. you press your lips together, but it doesn’t stop the small, disbelieving smile that slips through anyway.
you finally move, stepping away as quietly as you can and deciding you’ll have to get your notebook another day
a/n: banner creds: @uzmacchiato . ⋆⁺ thank you for reading!! plz leave requests in my inbox!! ⋆⁺₊
oh man I loved your nanami fic, I’m only on chapter 1 but I had to come tell you lol. you’re so talented 🩷
omg thank you so much!!! that really means a lot to me💗☺️ if you'd like, i can make sure you are tagged in future chapters!!
-
read ch 1 here! : summary: you never meant to fall for your boss. especially not when that boss is kento nanami. and especially not when you’re already married.
Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
✓ Live Streaming✓ Interactive Chat✓ Private Shows✓ HD Quality✓ Free Actions
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summary: eren's favorite cam girl gives him some special attention
warning: nsfw!!, porn, dom!eren, innocence kink, sub!reader, petnames, explicit content, cursing, smut, praising, mentions of female and male body parts, masturbation, cum, squirting, voyeurism, eren with tattoos and piercings
word count: 2.5k
“bbydoll777 is streaming, join now!”
eren is quick to prop up his laptop and click the notification of his favorite late-night streamer. he didn’t have many hobbies or things he took interest in other than getting tattoos, piercings and watching porn. for the last few months, he exclusively watches your videos. there’s something about you that kept him coming back. unlike the popular onlyfans creators, you seem sweet, innocent and an amatuer. he doesn’t like when the other creators would fake a moan just for the sake of pleasing their audience. they also don’t give the same attention to their viewers as you did. you always make sure to thank everyone that donates or comments in the chat.
“hi everyone” you politely greet the viewers of your stream. eren feels blood go straight to his dick at the sight of you. you’re wearing a new baby pink, 3-piece lingerie set- the one he bought and sent to your p.o. box a few days ago. he’s grateful you saw his comment where he suggested you make one. now that his first gift has come in, he’ll be sure to send more. the garter belt hugs your thighs nicely and the bra makes your breasts almost spill out of the fabric. eren curses under his breath as he lays back on his mattress, palming his already hard dick. he feels pride as he watches your comments quickly flood in about how cute you look tonight. it’s a big change from your usual tight crop top and short skirt that barely covers your skin.
you smile as you see the number of viewers rise well past 30k. your setup allows for viewers to see your lips and below, wanting to keep some sort of privacy for yourself. no one seems to mind, though, as they all ogle at how beautiful your body is.
“thank you for all the nice comments” you say shyly. even though you have been a camgirl for a few months now, you still become flustered at all the attention you receive. it started out as a way to make ends meet in addition to your full-time job, but you’ve been so successful that this has become your sole source of income. last month you made a little over $10k, which is more than enough to cover your expenses. you hope to reach the same amount this month so you can save money to move into a nicer apartment.
eren clicks the chat box, typing up the message he always starts with. he’s not as dominant as he would usually be in person. he doesn’t want to come off too strong. he can’t risk not having your attention, the one he craves everynight.
jaeger845: “hi, pretty girl”
your cheeks heat up. your favorite and most loyal viewer was watching. the compliment makes your heart swell. in the care package he sent you eren made sure to include his username so you would know who was nice enough to spend their hard-earned money on you.though you’ve never met him, he was so kind and always sent supportive, sweet messages to you that caught your attention.
“hi” you reply, now feeling a bit shy. eren watches as you nervously play with your fingers, unconsciously covering yourself a bit. even though your profession is showing off every inch of your body, there are still moments where you become flustered. the humility is what eren likes most about you.
jaeger845: “don’t cover up, sweet girl. you look cute”
you bite your lip to keep from blushing even more. eren notices the slight adjustment you make in your gaming chair as you squeeze your thighs together, adding some friction to your core. he’s picked up on some of your kinks, praising being a big one. in addition to eren’s comments, thousands of others flood the chat.
springerihardlyknowher: show us, ur so sexy
jkirsch: i’m about to bust already
mika104: can i join???
“you want to see the back?” you ask your viewers. eren watches the chat blow up with variations of “yes” appearing one after the other. your shyness starts to fade away as your viewer count increases. in a few short minutes you’re almost at 50k viewers now, pretty good for a weekday.
you rise from your chair and turn around slowly, giving everyone the perfect view of your backside. the light pink thong is barely visible, disappearing between your cheeks and leaving nothing to the imagination. although you’re timid, you love the power that comes along with being desired by so many. just the thought of having your viewers weeping behind their screens is enough to have you soaking.
eren uses one hand to pull his boxers past his thighs, his member immediately slapping onto his stomach. He takes his black lip ring into his mouth, biting down gently as he watches you. His gaze fixates on your exposed backside, the sight of your round, tantalizing curves sending a surge of desire straight to his core. your ass was his favorite body part of yours- always so plump. he’s imagined the skin rippling against him as he hit you from behind many times.
you rest your knee on the chair and bend over a bit. your hands rest against the arms of the chair to redistribute your weight, pushing your cheeks closer to the camera. eren’s gaze follows your every movement, eyes darkening with desire as they trail down to the patch of wetness on your panties. he wishes he could reach through the screen and touch you, feeling the dampness for himself. He raises a hand to his throbbing length, his fingers wrapping around the base. Slowly, he starts to stroke himself, feeling the heat build within him. A low growl escapes his lips as he imagines bending you over the chair and roughly gripping your hips while he thrusts into you.
reaching down between your legs, you tease yourself by delicately tracing along the soft fabric of your underwear, feeling the heat emanating from your core. A light gasp escapes your lips, surprised by just how wet you already are. You can only imagine the excitement and arousal your viewers must be experiencing at the sight of your nearly drenched panties, glistening with your arousal. The anticipation builds as you continue to tease yourself, indulging in the pleasure of being watched by so many eager eyes.
eren’s nostrils flare, his chest rising and falling with each ragged breath as he continues to pump himself in a steady rhythm.
you continue to explore, letting your fingers wander over your folds, feeling the delicate fabric of your underwear cling to your skin. The slickness of arousal seeps through the material, making you ache for more. Each touch sends a jolt of pleasure through you, causing you to release a sigh from your parted lips. Your fingers linger on your sensitive bud, teasing and taunting it until it's swollen and throbbing with need. Your hips start to move of their own accord, aching for more pleasure.
as you pick up the pace, your mind fills with thoughts of your favorite viewer. you wonder if he’s as tall and handsome as you have imagined a few times before. you pretend he’s guiding you through your masturbation session, telling you exactly what to do to bring yourself to the edge. with each stroke of your fingers, you can feel the knot in your stomach twisting tighter and tighter. you can almost feel the hunger of your viewers through your screen, positive that their eyes are fixed on your every movement. especially eren. the thought is enough for you. you hiccup as you finally let go, your body shaking with the force of your climax.
sweat glistens on eren’s skin, his muscles tense as a low growl escapes his throat. your high pitched moans fill the room as he tries to finish right behind you. eren’s eyes droop as he brings himself closer to his own release, strokes becoming more urgent. his hand moves with precision, grip firm and his movements swift as he continues to pleasure himself. his moans become lower in pitch as he focuses on his tip. after a moment he feels the familiar shake in his thighs.
your whines catch eren’s attention. eren’s eyes are hooded and dark with desire as he watches you intently. your fingers glisten as they rub between your folds, working yourself through your orgasm. the once light pink material of your panties is now almost transparent, soaked through with your juices and dripping as you continue to squirt through the fabric. it clings to you, revealing the outline of your swollen lips.
“oh s-shittt”, eren groans before his eyes unfocus and he’s cumming in his hand. he twitches as his balls drain completely to the sound of you coming back from your high. his thighs shake, toes curling as he paints his abs and thighs with his cum. eren’s breathing is ragged as the strength of his orgasm hits its peak.
“fuck” he says breathlessly.
after you’ve collected yourself you let out a small giggle. usually after you cum your brain feels light and fuzzy, putting you in a good mood. as you look at your surroundings you notice your thighs, chair and table are covered in your release. you feel quite proud for being able to satisfy yourself as thoroughly as you did without a toy. your cheeks burn as you see hundreds of comments flooding your chat, reminding you’re not alone.
“i made a mess”, you admit, lightly laughing at yourself. your thighs tremble as you bring it back down to the floor and turn towards the camera. your viewers watch your chest rise and fall as you catch your breath. you’re sure most of them had joined you in pleasuring themselves. the thought makes you wet again, though you’re too sensitive to make yourself cum again tonight. instead, you bring your fingers to your lips and slowly clean the digits.
after eren comes down from his high he lazily sits up and cleans himself with a shirt he finds close to his bed. a hand rests behind his head as he watches your not-so-innocent actions.
in the chat your fans thank you for helping them come to their own release and praise you for another great stream. your voice is soft as you thank them for watching and commenting words of encouragement. you wave to your camera and end the video shortly after.
“bbydoll777 has ended the stream. thanks for watching!”
eren’s room goes dark as the light from the laptop goes black. he sits there for a moment, enjoying the clarity he feels post-orgasm. he’s already thinking about the next time you go live and how he’ll make sure to ship you more gifts before friday night. he already has something special for you.
eren’s laptop glows again as his discord pops up with a notification. he sits up, furrowing his brows to see who could be messaging at a time like this.
“bbydoll777 sent you a message”
a chill runs down his spine as eren brings his laptop closer to him. no way you’re messaging him. it’s one thing to give you attention during your streams, but to have access to you outside of it is an entirely different reality eren didn’t think was possible. the creator he’s been watching for months and had just watched masturbate in front of thousands is actually sending him a message. if it was any other girl, he’d be nonchalant and wait until morning to respond. but you aren’t just any other girl. and eren wouldn’t dare make you wait on him.
bbydoll777: thank you for the gift :) xoxo
such a simple message from you has eren hard all over again. the acknowledgement goes straight to his dick, still not believing this is real. his fingers hover over the keyboard for a moment before typing a response
jaeger845: you’re welcome, pretty girl. you were perfect today
you heart the message. eren’s response is much more composed than how he feels. the ounce of attention you’re giving has eren already planning on stroking himself when he gets in the shower. anticipation sets in when he sees three bubbles appear on his screen.
bbydoll777: maybe i can return the favor?
his eyebrows raise at your request. other than being nice to you in the comments, he’s not sure what he did to earn so much of your attention. you have thousands of fans watching you every week and somehow he’s the lucky guy that gets to talk to you after hours.
jaeger845: how so?
eren doesn’t want to be a pervert and assume he’d get any private shows from you. after all, sex work is your profession. it wouldn’t be fair of him to get a show he isn’t paying for. he doesn’t spoil you to gain any special treatment. he has genuinely enjoyed being your top donator the last few months.
bbydoll777: i don’t think it’s fair for you to tip me so much and get nothing in return :(
he nearly scoffs. eren gets plenty. you don’t even realize how much he enjoys just watching you. he doesn’t need anything in return. he’s never asked, he wouldn’t dare. bubbles appear once again as you elaborate.
bbydoll777: you’re so kind to me. i want to do something for you
eren takes his lip ring into his mouth again.
jaeger845: you do things to me already, princess. trust me.
this stumps you for a moment. he’s your top donor by a lot. and as grateful as you are to him for not asking for private videos, you really do want to show your appreciation to him in some way. after a few minutes of no response, eren types again.
jaeger845: don’t ever feel pressured to send me anything if i didn’t pay for it first. i don’t tip you because i want something in return. i do it because you deserve it.
your cheeks burn at the statement. he really is so sweet to you.
bbydoll777: can i atleast get your name?
jaeger845: it’s eren
he doesn’t press you for yours. even though you’re talking, it doesn’t mean he’s entitled to know everything about you. you have a screen name for a reason, and the fact that you don’t show your entire face is further proof that you want to remain at least a little bit anonymous. he respects that.
eren notices the heart next to his message. soon after, the word offline is displayed next to your username, signaling you have logged off for the night. he shuts his laptop and makes his way to the bathroom, delivering on his promise of stroking himself once more before bed. as eren steps into the shower he almost laughs at how hard he is again.
his hair falls in his eyes as he dips his head down and rests a hand on the tiles in front of him. he wastes no time in grasping his throbbing erection once more. eren is fueled by the memory of your desperate whimpers and the vivid images of you pleasuring yourself. it doesn’t take long before his breaths hitch and cum is shooting out of his mushroom tip once more, leaving him satiated for the rest of the night.
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⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆ thank you for reading!! everyone is welcome to leave feedback and requests in my inbox!! please let me know if you want to be added to my permanent taglist! ⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆
summary: toji struggles with a dark past, forced to fight in order to survive. it’s the one thing he’s ever truly excelled at. it isn’t ideal, but stepping into the ring provides him money and a sense of purpose. as long as he can use it to provide for you, that’s enough for him.
cw: mentions of fighting, cursing, dark themes, getting arrested, injuries, blood, toji comes from a dark past, reader checking for injuries, toji is soft for you, petnames
word count: 1.9k
toji is used to fighting in places that weren’t legal—basements, back alleys, parking lots – anywhere people would pay to see. it wasn’t about winning. it was about surviving, walking out with enough money to make it to the next day. he only had himself to depend on. he had harsh reminders of this - the weight of an empty stomach clawing at his insides, the dull ache in his bones from sleeping on concrete, the way his vision would blur if he went too long without food. winning just meant he got to keep going. he never lost, because losing wasn’t an option he could afford. if he didn’t win then he didn’t eat. it was a cycle. violent and unforgiving.
he learned early that pain didn’t matter. not the sting of knuckles splitting open, not the crack of something that might’ve been a rib, not the copper taste of blood filling his mouth. pain was temporary.
toji didn’t have the best childhood, he grew up with no real home, no one waiting for him at the end of the day. and when kids picked on him he had two options – continue to feel sorry for himself or fight back. so that’s what he did.
at first it was for his protection, until he started looking for fights. because the anger inside him needed somewhere to go, and this was the only thing that made the noise in his head go still. people took notice of the kid who didn’t go down. and they started betting on him. at first it was small pocket change and loose bills passed between hands. but as he grew, so did the price. voices would call his name. pushing him forward, setting him up, using him. he didn’t care. as long as they paid.
it changed him. he became more intimidating, more tense. it was clear in his body language. he’d position himself in every room with his back to the wall, eyes on exits at all times. his hands flexed when someone got too close.
rules didn’t matter. underground fighting wasn’t just fighting. it was brutality dressed up as entertainment. bodies slamming into each other on cracked mats or bare concrete, the sound of impact echoing too loud in tight spaces. the crowd shouting, laughing, demanding more. the sight of blood made them louder. and toji was very good at giving them what they wanted.
he’s gotten in trouble more than once for it, almost a regular at the local police station. at first, he’d get off with warnings, then it turned into paperwork. a name that started showing up too often and a file that got thicker with every arrest. he spent many nights in holding cells, sitting on cold benches with dried blood still on his hands. his bad behavior followed him. doors closed before he had an opportunity to reach them. no one wanted to hire someone with his reputation. so he went back to the only thing he knew he couldn't be denied from.
–
tonight was his first fight since spending the weekend in a cell. while the opponent across from him is pacing, hyping himself up, throwing wild practice jabs—toji just stands there, shoulders loose, head tilted slightly like he’s bored. too calm because he knows how this will end.
when the bell rings a switch flips. he’s fast and efficient. no wasted motion or hesitation. and it’s over before the opponent’s brain can catch up. the crowd is shocked, roaring at another victory but he barely acknowledges it. just wipes the sweat from his face, rolls his shoulders once, and walks out like it was nothing more than another day. afterward, he comes home to you.
you first met him when he was already built like a wall, with broad shoulders, thick arms, a heavy weight that makes people move out of his way without thinking. you learn his past in pieces that don’t always come willingly. he doesn’t talk much about it, but you piece it together in fragments. the life chooses to live gives him structure, money and a way to temporarily escape the real world.
you wait with the tv murmuring low, some show you’re not really watching. the lamp in the corner casts a warm glow across the living room. it smells like the candle you lit hours ago, comforting for him after his long night.
you hear his key in the door and sit up in anticipation.
“hi baby” he mumbles. your eyes quickly scan him, checking for any obvious signs of injury.
“you won?” you ask, already knowing the answer.
“yeah.” of course he did. he always does.
“come” you softly call him over to the couch. he melts into it, tired and happy to be home. your hands glide over his shoulders, his arms, his legs, anything that might be affected from his match.
“hold still” you scold.
“i am holding still” he says.
“you’re not” you murmur, pushing lightly until he exhales and relaxes under your touch. your fingers press gently, searching for anything out of place. there’s nothing surprising, just a faint bruise starting to bloom. nothing worth worrying over.
“you’re fine” you murmur, relieved.
“always am” he says it like a fact. you just press a soft kiss to his chest, right over his heartbeat. strong and steady. he watches you, his gaze soft.
“you worry too much” he teases.
“and you don’t worry enough” he huffs, almost a laugh. you rub his arms, feeling the subtle tension in his muscles go anyway. he groans in appreciation.
“you could get hurt one day” you whisper. he tilts his head, studying you. he’s always known that is a possibility. but it hasn’t happened. if there’s one downside to this job (although there are many) it’s the thought of you constantly worrying about him. especially when you’re looking at him like this, and touching him like he’s something worth keeping.
“i won’t” he says softly. it’s a small statement, but it’s not a guarantee he can keep. you shake your head.
“you can’t promise that”. he doesn’t answer. because he knows you’re right.
—
“you have a collect call from toji fushiguro. to accept the charges, please press 1. to refuse please hang up”. you don’t hesitate, you’ve grown used to the message by now.
“toji, what the fuck?” you scold. he told you he wouldn't get in trouble anymore. he doesn’t have many chances left and his lawyer is running out of excuses he can make. toji closes his eyes, cursing under his breath as the familiar feeling of handcuffs rub against his wrists. he balances the phone between his ear and shoulder. he feels a deep sense of self-loathing shame. he’d promised. he’d told you, again and again, that he was done with this kind of trouble. that he’d be more careful.
“don’t be mad, babygirl. i got caught up in something” he sighs. the words were flat, hollow even to his own ears. he hated the sound of his own voice, stripped of its usual low-tide rumble and reduced to this apologetic, tight rasp. he pictured your face—the slight downturn of your lips when you were truly disappointed, the way your brow furrowed. that look hurt more than any jab to the ribs. he was frustrated, something else to add to the list of reasons why he is terrible for you. he was poisonous, and you were too good, too bright, a soft place he didn't deserve to land.
he lets you tell him off without interruption and no attempt to defend himself. he knows he deserves every word you throw at him. and you let him have it. not only for your sake, but for him.
“hang up the phone” a voice says flatly. toji looks sideways at a man in a suit that seemingly appeared out of nowhere. he looks him up and down, thinking the man is trying to get an early turn at a phone call, before focusing back on you. he felt a primal urge to drop the phone and snap the man’s neck, to silence the interruption, to keep listening to the only voice that tethered him to anything good.
you’re in the middle of scolding him when toji hears the dial tone. his eyes snap open and towards the man, who he sees holding the switchook down and ending the call.
“what the fuck–” toji starts.
“i’m your agent” the man says. toji lets out a humorless huff. he doesn’t work for anyone, he works alone.
“…i don’t have an agent” he dismisses. he’s fought hard enough to get where he is now, he sure as hell isn’t going to have a boss. especially not one that takes a percentage of his earnings.
“you do now”. toji furrows his brows, still pissed that his conversation was cut short.
“if this is some kind of sick joke, you better let me call my woman back–” he threatens. the man doesn’t flinch as toji steps toward him. he doesn’t even look concerned.
“i’m bailing you out” the man says. it stops toji in his tracks. he frowns, not believing him.
“as of five minutes ago,” the man interrupts, “you have been released from custody. you’re a free man, toji”.
toji stares at him. really looks this time, taking in the details of the stitching on the suit. it’s familiar, bringing back memories of him mid-fight and the man standing just outside the chaos of the underground ring, always far enough back to avoid attention, but always there watching.
“i have an offer for you”. despite himself, toji listens.
—
toji walks back to the apartment with thoughts racing in his mind. he doesn’t say much as he drops his bag by the door. the man’s voice takes over his thoughts. the offer seemed too good to be true. everything shifted in a matter of minutes—from a holding cell, to freedom, to something that feels a little too close to opportunity.
your back is half-turned toward him, but he can already see the tension in your shoulders, the set of your jaw and the scowl you don’t bother hiding when you finally look at him. it’s full of disapproval, worry and anger that hasn’t cooled since the call.
“i got an offer” he tells you plainly. you blink at him,thrown off because that’s not what you expected him to say. you were sure an apology or a half-assed excuse was going to be the first thing that came out of his mouth.
“what kind of offer?”.
toji exhales through his nose, dragging a hand over the back of his neck. “a professional one”.
you turn fully to him. “like… actual league fighting?”
“yeah” he agrees. you didn’t come around to the idea easily. it took a few days of going back and forth before you accepted that toji wanted to do this. the perks spoke for themselves, even though it was the fighting that worried you most of all.
your life noticeably changes after that. the fights become cleaner. there are rules now. referees who actually step in before things go too far. it’s safer compared to what he’s used to doing. and the money pays well. bills get paid faster. groceries are always stocked. you don’t have to stretch things the way you used to. when he comes home and hands you envelopes of cash like it’s nothing, you know he does all of this for you. he never says it outright. but everything he does, every fight he accepts, every bone-deep ache that settles in his muscles, is for that stability he’s been craving since he was young. because in his mind—this is the only thing he’s ever been good at. the only thing that’s ever worked. and as long as it keeps a roof over your head, he’ll keep stepping into that ring.
⋆·˚ ༘ * a/n: banner creds: @aquazero - i posted 3 different fics today. go me!!
thank you for reading ch 1!! this will be a two part fic!! lmk if you would like to be added to the next chapter!
