asteria

You've been hired as Michael's personal nanny for around 8 months — nearly a year. You enjoy it a lot, playing Jenga with his kids all night long, then tucking them in bed with a little story you made up. Even doing the dishes was enjoyable. Also, not to mention that Michael's house was huge, he had countless rooms for each of his specific niches. Sometimes when everyone's gone to sleep, you'll sneak out of your bed & snoop around each of the rooms, just out of curiosity. Your house is so small, so being here is like being on holiday. Although when he’s away touring or just busy, you’d miss his company.

Michael’s been so very kind & just to you ever since you've been working for him. You protested to him that you didn't even need a room at first, that you could just sleep on one of his couches. The idea irritated him.

"I'm not having no lady sleep on a couch, you'll sleep in a proper room, your own. I'll make it real nice for you." He'd say.

& he did. You told him you loved baby pink, so he'd hire someone to paint the walls pink, install clean white coving & put some pretty floral sheets on your bed with a little vanity installed across the room. You were shocked when you saw your bed was king-sized.

“This is too much Michael…”

“It’s the least I could do to thank you.”

You aggressively scrub the stains from tonight's dinner off the bone china plates as you do the dishes, your hair tied up in a messy pony with a tight polka-dot white apron on. Soft rain taps on the kitchen window, the draft of air from the opening crack hitting your face blissfully. You overhear the soft mumbles of Michael & his children a few floors above you as he puts them to bed.

“Goodnight, Daddy. Love you.” They say in their sweet little voices.

“I love you guys too. Sleep well now. Busy day tomorrow.” You hear Michael say.

You smile to yourself, continuing to scrub as you hear heavy footfall coming down the stairs. You straighten your back & flick the hair out of your face. You hate to admit it, but you think you’re starting to develop a little something for Michael. Any little thought you have of him that’s mildly inappropriate, you push it away instantly. You’re a professional after all.

“You didn’t have to do that,” you hear a soft voice mumble behind you.

You turn to see Michael propped up against the doorframe with his hands behind his back. His eyes were dark and worn from the intensity of the day. He’s wearing a loose linen white shirt paired with baggy grey sweatpants & his glasses. You only really see him wear them in the evening, you secretly love them.

“Oh, no, I don’t mind at all. It’s my job after all, right?” You chirp sweetly as you continue to scrub, a little gentler now.

You always try to appear perfect around Michael, sweet & polite at all times. Not because it’s part of your job to maintain a modicum of respect, but because you want him to like you personally. He’s such a huge public figure, a star — the thought of being close to him excites you.

“I know.” He says, taking the wet plates you’ve washed & drying them off. “My mother raised me to be a gentleman. So nanny or not, it never sits right with me for a woman to be doing all my dirty work, y’know?”

You nod softly, giving him an understanding smile as you continue to lay wet plates on the rack.

A few minutes pass of you & Michael cleaning & drying the dishes together, mindless small talk floating in the air. It'd been a long day for you, the weather was burning hot, which automatically made you sluggish, & the children were constantly begging for your attention while you attempted to do 1000 other tasks at once. So surprisingly, doing the dishes with Michael in the cool of the temperate evening soothed your nerves.

You passed Michael the last remaining dish as he dried it off, placing it in the cabinet with a clank. You pull the plug as you watch the soapy water collect down the drain, feeling Michaels eyes on your back.

You turn around with a loud sigh, attempting to fill in the awkward silence that hangs in the air while you two share a glance, just smiling.

"Well," you cut in, wiping surplus water off your manicured hands on your apron, "you tucked the children into bed?"

Michael takes his glasses off in one swipe, hanging them on his shirt opening.

"Yes I did, they'll sleep tight. I know they bothered you a lot today, they can get pretty active, so i'm sorry about that." He chuckles softly, the sound sending a mere tingle to your belly.

You two haven't had a proper two-on-two conversation since the morning started. After that, tasks had to be done, errands had to be run, so you two never got the chance to really talk. You shake your head with a reassuring smile, your cheeks a little rosy.

"I understand that constantly playing with children can be hard & tiring, especially when you don't want too but,"

You untie your apron from behind, placing it on the counter top. Michael's eyes fall to your waist instinctively, crossing his arms & shifting his feet.

"I like playing around y'know? I find it fun. I like my job." You smile, showing off your pearly whites.

Michael nods slowly, trying his hardest to keep his eyes on yours & not gawk like a pervert at your tanned legs n' thighs under your sundress.

"Good," he said gently. "You know I'd hate to think you're only staying because the pay's decent."

You let out a little giggle from his comment.

"If I didn't like being here I'd be gone by now, trust me."

Something about your comment seemed to please him by the look on his face; he liked having you here. Not because you were doing most of his work for him or taking extra care of his children, but because he liked you. Secretly, he liked having a sweet piece of ass around the house 24/7. He'd never tell you that, though; he's a gentleman after all.

Michael clapped his hands together, turning around to open the cabinet behind him full of all different types of liquor. You watch him pull out an expensive looking bottle of pinot, holding it in front of you.

"its's been a long day, how do you feel about a glass of wine? Do you drink?" He asks.

"Occasionally, yes." You mumble, taking the bottle from his hand as you analyse the label intently.

"Great."

Michael takes 2 slim wine glasses from the bottom cabinet as you read the label, you forget how wealthy he is. The wine you drink is nowhere near as rich as this.

"Burgundy Pinot Noir? Seems nice."

Michael hums in agreement as you pass the bottle back to him. He pops open the cork, the soft glug of wine filled the silence as he tipped the bottle. Deep red swirled into both glasses, a little more than you'd usually drink of an evening. You take a quick peek at his back before he turns to pass you the glass; it's lean & broad. His back bones n' muscles stretch his shirt a little. You feel your bottom lip pull in a little before you stop yourself.

"Here," he turns to hand you a glass, "I hope this isn't too much."

You take the glass & swirl it around a little, smelling the rim. It's rich, fruity, & sexy. The scent travels straight down in-between your legs.

"No it's not. I enjoy your company," you say.

"I meant the contents of your glass," Michael laughs as he takes a short sip, his pearly whites shining.

You feel your face burn up a little from embarrassment, chuckling to yourself.

"Oh! no, this is perfect. The amount is perfect." You reiterate.

Michael smiles to himself, the innocence of your embarrassment flattering him. Sure, you're a full-grown adult, but you have this innocence about you that he picks up on. Your sweet floral scent when you pass him by, or your cute coordinated outfits you pick out every day. He'd always love seeing you in those little sundresses that revealed the smooth of your calves & chest. He'd feel guilty for thinking of you like that, but he couldn't help it. He finds you immensely beautiful & special, he can't help but wonder who gets to enjoy you.

"You wanna go to the front room? Might be a little more comfortable to sit down," he questions, starting to move towards said room.

"Yeah sure, good idea."

You follow him to the front room. It's lit up dimly with a singular chandelier & scattered candles around the room in various places. He usually does this after he puts his children to bed —  relishes in his solitude. You never really got the chance to share this opportunity with him. You'd usually go to bed around this time too but since the day was drawn out longer than usual, he caught you just in time. The room smells of him, with notes of incense. You feel your heart rate pick up, for what reason you don't know.

"Do you do this often?" You say, taking a seat on the couch as he follows, plopping himself down a little too close to you, so close you can smell him.

Michael leans back on the arm of the couch, one hand wrapped around the back cushion while the other holds his glass. You swallow, your legs neatly closed as you sit upright, holding your glass with both hands in front of you. You don't know why you're nervous. You've spent time with him before, but this time just feels different. Maybe it's in your head, you try to relax.

"Drink wine?" he questions.

"Invite your employees for a drink after work kinda thing," your voice sweet in comparison to the deepness of his own. You've noticed it gets lower in the evening, perhaps from his lack of energy.

"Uh, sometimes yes. But if it makes you feel better, I enjoy your company the most." He says softly. "Not only do you do a lot around here, but you've got a lovely personality. Im grateful to have you in my home, truly.”

You smile warmly. The thought of your presence being accepted in his home makes you warm.

"Thank you, Mr Jackson. Means a lot." You take another sip, you feel your head start to become weightless, a little more ditzy. You've never been good with your alcohol.

"Oh, & I've been meaning to tell you, please don’t call me that." He pleads, placing a hand on his chest sincerely. "Call me Michael. My father used to make us call him Joseph; it's not the way it should be."

"Well, thank you, Michael. It means a lot." You say, pressing your thighs together a little harder than usual.

“No, thank you.”

A solid 10 minutes pass by of you & Michael sharing each others company, growing closer & closer by the minute, learning more about each other with each sip. Before you knew it, the conversation was drifting from topic to topic without paying any attention to the appropriateness of it. You were both too far gone, only a quarter of your wine left.

"You ever think you'd be somewhere completely different by now?" you questioned. Your body now slouched into the couch, one leg thrown over the other.

Michael stared at you a little longer, his eyes half lidded n' hazy as he tries to understand your question before answering.

"Different how? Like marriage?"

You shrugged, your lips pouty n' stained a deep red from the wine. Your eyes slightly drunken. The state of you making his cock twitch in his pants.

"Yeah, marriage. You never wanna get married? I don't see a ring on your finger," you slur, pointing to his hand.

Michael blushes, scratching his head.

"No, I do. I wanna get married. I've been married, I've had a lot of experience in that sector, but it never works out, y'know."

You nod, a sympathetic look on your face, "I'm sorry about that."

"It's okay. Well, and you? you've never been married?" He asks, sliding a hand through his thick black hair. Part of him inside is smiling at the fact he's able to find out more about you. He didn't ask you to drink with him for that specific reason, but the line is starting to blur.

"No never. I've had a few boyfriends but...they also never worked out. I've never been happy with someone. In all ways."

"So you've never had a serious man?" He inquires, subconsciously sitting up. Now more intently focused when it comes to your love life.

You snicker into your glass, your teeth clanking against the delicate material, "None worth writing home about."

His eyebrows raise in surprise, taking a final sip of his wine before placing the glass on the coffee table beside him.

"Thats very hard to believe."

You furrow your brows with a little tantalising smirk, inching him to elaborate.

"Well you're beautiful," he gestures a hand at your figure. "Smart, good with children. I would've thought somebody would've appreciated you enough to keep you by their side by now."

Tingles n' heat creep up into your cheeks, your lashes fluttering with nerves as you force yourself to smile & thank him.

"Thank you." Is all you can manage.

"Why do I get the feeling every guy you've dated has been a total dimwit?" He whispers. His irritation rising knowing no man will ever take care of you the way he knows he could.

You chuckle, "You'd be right then."

His eyes never leave yours, "What, did they just never treat you right, Is that it?"

You hesitated a little, lips moving to say something but then faltering. Your lips stay around the rim of your empty glass. Michael noticed your hesitation instantly.

"What? Come on!" he teases you, giving your knee a soft nudge.

"No I cant, it's so embarrassing." You laugh, stretching your hand to put your glass down on the table.

Michael points at himself, his face straight all of a sudden.

"Embarrassing? Do you know the amount of embarrassment I had to go through in my career?" He snickers.

He shifts to sit up more, counting on his fingers, "Pepsi Incident, false accusations, women not liking me back. Countless things! I can go on-"

"Okay, okay." You start, pinching your eyes together with your fingers, your cheeks practically on fire at this point.

Michael goes silent instantly as he waits, his hands wrapped around the couch again.

“I’ve just never been satisfied, sexually. I find that important in a relationship.” You come out.

“You what?” He laughs breathlessly, taken back.

The thought of what you're saying to Michael right now doesn’t even register in your brain. You’re just talking, completely relaxed. It’s a nice feeling, yet a little risky to your relationship.

“I’ve never got there.” You close your eyes.

Michael’s lips fall agape as you confess to never having an orgasm. Not knowing what to say. He can’t help but ask more questions, as less perverse as possible.

“Not even…alone?” He says barely above a whisper.

You shake your head slowly, letting your head fall into your hands as you laugh to yourself, completely exposed & vulnerable. You’re drunk, yet after saying it it’s like you’ve sobered up. You're regretting it. You press on, trying to explain yourself.

“I’ve heard my friends talk of it about their relationships, even alone. But I’ve just never been able to, let alone with another person. So there you go, that’s my secret.”

You reach for your glass before realising it's empty, not knowing what to do with your hands. You just keep your head down, avoiding eye contact. The silence is unbearable, the room is practically choking you from how small it feels. Michael doesn't answer right away, though you feel the burn of his stare on you. You cant tell if it's sympathy or judgement. The confusion is killing you. You decide to look up at him momentarily, he's already looking into your eyes. He didn't look shocked or amused, he was just looking at you.

"Wanna know how it feels?" He says, his voice an octave lower.

Your eyes shot up at him, your heart racing so hard you swear he can hear it.

"What do you mean?" You mumble pathetically, your face like a deer in headlights.

"I mean do you wanna know how it feels? just a question, truly."

His poker face isn't telling you jack, it's like he's left you to interpretation. You straighten your back, trying to appear confident.

"Uh, yes. Yes I do."

Michael scoots a little closer to you on the couch, his knee brushing yours. You can tell he's trying to seem as natural as possible. You watch him through half lidded eyes, trying to keep your balance upright as you're a little tipsy, so is he.

"You're a kind girl, I cant help but feel genuine sympathy for you. You mean to tell me you've spent all this time wondering what it feels like?"

You clear your throat, crossing your legs as you give him a little nod.

He pouts a little, "& how far would you be willing to go?"

"How far would I be willing to go for what?"

"To feel the one thing no one has ever made you feel."

You think to yourself, the number of times you'd feel terribly aroused at home, knowing you need some sort of release but not knowing how to deal with it. Or the sickening envy you'd feel hearing your friends talk about the way they came so hard they cried. Or even just your string of bad dates that included horrible sex. You hated it; you felt like a child.

You nod, "Far."

"Let me help you then." He snaps with no restraint. You look at his face, searching for any sign of unseriousness. You don’t find anything.

You feel a pulse start to build up in your cunt at the mere thought of Michael helping you. You work for him, you think to yourself. The taboo nature of the idea arouses you, yet you try to let your morals win.

“Help me with that?” You say below a whisper, saying it out loud feels like a crime. “I don’t think that’d be right, I work for you.”

“I know you do, but I’m only trying to help. It stays in this room. Only if you’re willing.” He says, his bottom lip drawing in at the possible reality.

“But what will I tell people-“

“You don’t have to tell anyone anything. This is supposed to be private. Just a person helping another person hm?”

You let the thought ponder in your head, you remember you’ve had fantasies of this man. You’d wake up in hot sweats from multiple sex dreams of him lapping up your pussy with his tongue, only to beat yourself up for it afterwards. The frame of his body, his hair, those sexy pair of eyes that threaten your self respect everyday.

“Teach me.” You nod innocently, your voice laced with a mix of desire & hesitation. You knew deep down you wanted him bad.

“You sure?” He says, tucking a strand of hair out of your face.

“Yes, I want too. I want you to make me feel it.” You scoot forward, blinking rapidly from excitement.

“Take your hair down,” he says, rubbing your shoulder gently.

You follow his command, letting your hair down out of your clip, placing it neatly on the table.

“Good, now just relax okay? you look tense. That’s not gonna help either y’know?” He cooes.

You nod along like you have no brain of your own, completely in his mercy. You like being told what to do, not having to think.

Michael’s now close & facing you, softly rubbing your smooth arms to try & relax you — prepping you. His eyes fall to your lips, ripe & agape. Just begging to be kissed n' licked.

Without any warning, he leans in & presses his lips to yours, automatically moving his hands to cup your jaw; your skin burns under his touch. He proceeds to slide his tongue between your lips, asking for permission to be let in. You hum, allowing him. With no time to waste, you feel him enter your mouth, his tongue dancing with your own, warm & wet. You mewl into the kiss, your brows pressing together as the ache in your core grows larger. You place your hands on his shoulders & squeeze, forcing yourself to have a mind of your own.

"Mhm, there you go. Just go with the flow." He mumbled, his words barely audible, muffled by your puffy lips.

He breaks the kiss, leaving you pouting in loss of contact. Strands of hair stick to the wetness he left on your lips.

"What happened?" You say, your eyes blown out.

"Nothing," he chuckles, "Just relax & lay back, can you do that for me?"

"Mhm," you slowly lay back on the couch cushions behind you, keeping your legs together as your hands remain on your lap. It's like you've been fantasising about this moment, but when it comes, you get all shy. You can tell he's getting off on it by the bulge growing in his sweatpants, but you pretend not to notice.

"Face me, baby." He says, turning you in his direction by your waist. You feel your pussy grow wetter & wetter by the second, your thoughts clouded by the unrelenting desire for his touch down there.

His calloused hands run down from your thighs to your knees, "gonna open now okay?" he whispers, peppering a little kiss on your collarbone.

You nod, keeping your doe'd eyes on him as he slowly pushes your legs open, your sundress riding up as he does so. A few more forced pushes of your legs & they're completely open. Your pink cotton panties stained with a dark circle in the middle from your arousal. You hear him whisper profanities under his breath as he stares at your clothed pussy, your lips showing a little through the material.

"Pink really is your favourite colour, so damn pretty." He purrs, caressing the inner skin of your thighs. The rough texture of his palms against the smoothness of your skin causing little mewls to fall from your lips. He's here to help you, yet the stiffness of his cock keeps betraying him.

Michael places a gentle hand against your chest, "Breathe, baby."

You realise how hard your heart is beating, you can't tell if it's from nerves or pure arousal but you attempt to steady your breathing.

"Sorry, I think I'm just really turned on." You shudder.

Michael caresses your jaw, "Thats the most important factor."

He leans down, placing light little kisses on your thighs & knees. You tremble from the contact. He holds one of your feet with one hand, kissing your perfectly manicured toes as the other hand rubs on your the curve of your ass.

"Please touch me," You beg, giving your pussy a little stroke to signal to him where you want it.

He gently slides his middle & index finger up your wet slit, your arousal totally soaked through the cheap fabric of your panties. Your mouth falls open with no sound at first, just pleasurable shock. The feeling of the tips of his fingers grazing over your clit making you squeak like a slut.

Michael presses a finger to your lips with his free hand, "Try to be quiet okay? I know it's hard." He orders.

His cock is throbbing like a ticking time bomb under his sweatpants at the sight of you all drunken & horny in front of him, legs splayed open waiting for him to help you.

"Mm, sorry." You mumble under his finger, trying to keep your eyes out of the back of your head as he continues rubbing softly.

He tugs at the side of your panties, moving them to the side slowly to reveal your glossy folds. There might as well be a twinkle In his eye as he stares.

"Damn," He breathes out, giving your swollen clit a rub with his thumb.

You arch your back immediately, covering your mouth as he rubs your clit tantalising slow.

"Fuck, Michael. I swear It's never felt that good." You gasp, drawing your bottom lip under your teeth painfully hard.

He smiles, his ego rising from your comment. He proceeds to rub in small circles with his index & middle finger in a steady rhythm, gathering your juices from the bottom to rub all over your clit.

"Let's get this down," he says to himself, pulling the upper half of your dress down with one hand, letting your perky tits fall free. He gawks at the view, forgetting this isn't about him — it's all about you.

You feel heat rise in your face again, you've never felt so exposed & horny in your life.

He gropes the curve of your breast with his free hand, rolling your nipple through his fingers as he continues his work on your pussy.

"Feeling good, ma? You need to tell me."

Your head falls back on the arm of the couch as you nod, your stomach twitching from the pleasure as you try to stop your moans from erupting — you're soaked for him.

"Feels so good Michael," You cry out. The muscles in your thighs starting to clench as you chase something you don't even know what.

He takes his hands away, unbuttoning his shirt in a frenzy as he tosses it on the floor. He comes back, though this time you feel 2 slender fingers slowly slide in you, curving just right.

"Oh my god," You whine, your eyes falling into your head.

He continues to roll your nipple between his fingers with his free hand, all while kissing you simultaneously.

Your body wasn't the only thing he'd ogle at, your lips were insanely arousing to him too, he didn't know where to touch or kiss you now that he had you like this.

Your hand snaps into his hair, grabbing on for dear life as you feel yourself begin to tremble & shake, he feels it too.

"Michael? Something's happening." You whimper, your brows pressed tight as you look at him for an answer, your eyes glossy.

"Thaats it," he encourages you. "You feel it baby? I ain't stopping."

Immense pressure coiled tighter inside of you, every breath becoming harder & harder to catch the more he fingers you perfectly on your g-spot — no one's ever hit the right spot, yet he seems to know exactly where you like it.

"Michael, Michael!" You cry.

"Yes," he hisses, "Let go." He leans down.

You feel his supple mouth latch onto your pussy, lapping & sucking gently on your sensitive nub as he continues to curl his fingers into you. You break immediately; the tension that had been building for minutes reaches a point where it feels unmanageable. The coil in your belly snaps, something in you lets go, your muscles tightening as your pulse thunders in your ears with blind spots covering your vision.

You squeal as you cum on his mouth, your eyes pinched shut as you tug on his hair for support. Once you had the energy to lift your head & come back to life, you look down at Michael, the lower half of his face glistening with your juices as he pants, smiling at you warmly. He sits up, licking n' sucking his fingers like a child with candy.

"Thats an orgasm," He smirks, a cocky look on his face. He brings a finger to your mouth, "Taste yourself, you did that."

You hesitate before latching your mouth around his finger, sucking on it looking at him. You taste sweet, just how you're feeling.

"I didn't know I could do that," You bite your lip, feeling a sense of achievement wash over you as Michael watches you in amusement.

"Glad I could help." He chuckles.

You stay lying, your panties still shifted to the side. You pull them off in one swift motion, throwing them on top of his shirt on the floor. You don't know how, but your orgasm gave you a wave of confidence. You feel like you could do anything; you feel like a woman.

"Though," You press on the bulge through his sweatpants with your foot, it's extremely hard.

"I wanna cum again, but with this," you plead, not wanting to say the word.

He bites his lower lip as he thinks about it, running a hand through his hair. Touching you is one thing, but fucking his nanny on his living room couch while his children are asleep, that's messy — & he liked it.

Before you could process what's happening, he's rolling his sweats down, giving his cock a little grab before finally sliding off his boxers too. You salivate at the sight of him. Thick, slender, & deep in colour. You instinctively open your legs wider, inviting him over. He climbs over you, one hand braced next to your head while the other juts your chin up for you to look at him, your eyes too busy on his cock.

"No one can know about this, you hear me?" He presses.

You nod frantically, "I promise."

You reach out to touch him, you give him a few little strokes. Your hand felt tiny up against it. He drops his head on your chest from the feeling of your hand movements. You let out a little moan as you attempt to line him up to your weeping slit, the feeling of it rubbing against you driving you crazy. You buck your hips forward, desperate to have him inside of you.

"Let me, baby, relax." He takes over, lining himself up with your entrance.

You feel him begin to crown you a little, already feeling a bitter sweet sting start to form.

"Please, all in." You beg as you hold your legs open, your hands in the backs of your knees.

"Dammit,"

Michael sinks all of his length into you, the pleasure feeling even more intense than before. Your hands shoot to his shoulders to push him back a little as you squeal, your lashes fluttering as you look at him from beneath them. You start to move your hips desperately, you loved watching how it disappears & reappears beneath you, he's the biggest you've ever felt. It feels like you're having sex for the first time again.

The sound of your mixed arousal is like music to his ears as he begins to form a steady rhythm with you. He manages to hit your g-spot constantly, never missing.

"You're gonna be the death of me." He grits, grabbing one of your breasts as he leans down to suck on one of your nipples slowly & sensually.

You whimper into his clammy hair as he's leant down, your eyes rolling back as you begin to feel the same coil in your belly you felt earlier — now able to recognise it. You let go of your thighs, your strength faltering as you come closer to your release. Michael's hands quickly replace yours, pushing your thighs back a little as he continues rolling his hips into you.

“Mm—harder,” you beg, looking up at him all pretty. Your eyes sparkling with quiet mischief, “fuck me harder.”

The sweet sound of skin meeting skin starting to creep up the harder he goes, eager for you to come again. He wants that for you.

"Michael, It's happening again I feel it. I think i'm gonna come." You warn, your eyes squeezing shut as you feel his mouth press against yours hot & messily.

He pulled back an inch from your lips, just enough to murmur, "Come for me," as he planted an encouraging slap on the side of your ass.

With a sharp cry buried deep into his shoulder, you come hard. Your vision is blocked out once again, the same pulse in your ears as you squeeze around him. You twitch beneath him.

Michael planned to last longer in the hope of pleasuring you for as long as you saw fit, yet the way your pussy clenched around him brought him to a sharp halt instantly.

"Oh, god." He whines, pulling out & stroking himself desperately as he finishes all over your thighs. You hum in pleasure as you watch his warm release slide down your skin slowly.

You pant, looking up at him with a satisfied smile as he runs a hand across your cheek, droplets of sweat from his hair hitting your forehead.

"Thanks for helping me."

Michael brushed a strand of hair from your face.

"Anytime." He giggles.

"For the first time in my life, i'm able to understand what everyone is talking about."

you whine dramatically while he hauls you away from the bar like an oversized cat, one massive arm locked around your middle while your heels scrape uselessly against the floor.

"noo, toji, Im dancin.." you complain loudly, head falling against his shoulder while he drags you through the crowd.

"you were damn near upside down on top'a the counter," he replies flatly, tightening his grip when you wobble again.

"thats not illegal.." you argue immediately, pouting up at him while the cold air hits your face the second he carries you outside.

"felt illegal." he mutters, finally setting you down near the entrance while keeping one hand firm on your waist so you dont drift away. usually this is the part where people get shoved into an uber and sent home, but not you, because youre special apparently.

thirty minutes later youre still standing beside him at the front entrance with his security jacket hanging off your shoulders while you "help" check IDs.

"you missed one." you whisper suspiciously while leaning heavily against his arm, pointing at a completely normal man entering the club. toji glances down at you slowly, cigarette tucked behind his ear while his hand stays braced against your back.

"you can barely see straight," he says dryly, watching your eyes struggle to focus on the line.

"Im checking. I can tell when someones lying from how theyre dressed." you reply seriously, narrowing your eyes at the next person walking up.

"that aint a real thing," he mutters, rubbing a hand over his face while you dramatically stick your hand out toward the poor guy in front of you.

"ID," you demand sternly, trying your hardest to sound authoritative despite swaying slightly, and the man actually hands it over.

you stare at it for several long seconds, lips pursed in concentration while toji watches the whole thing.

"I dont know what any of this means.." you admit finally, turning toward him with complete sincerity while holding the ID up helplessly. toji lets out this rough tired laugh through his nose before taking it from your hand, shoulders shaking slightly while he hands it back to the customer.

"go sit down somewhere fore you mess this all up. ya cant even read right now." he mutters, steering you gently away from the entrance with one large hand against your lower back.

"no," you reply immediately, grabbing onto his arm with both hands while your cheek presses against his shoulder. "Im working."

"you are absolutely not workin," he says flatly, but he still keeps you beside him anyway while you whisper nonsense security concerns into his ear for the next twenty minutes.

and by the time toji finally gets his break, youre still attached to him, warm and tipsy beside his body while his security jacket nearly swallows you whole.

"you see them shoes?" you whisper to him, leaning closer.

"baby, focus on standin upright first."

you glare at him immediately. youre not having the disrespect.

"I am upright." you huff, even though you almost trip while saying it.

"that guy has fake gucci.." you whisper seriously while pointing toward the entrance, eyes narrowed with drunken suspicion.

toji snorts quietly around the cigarette hanging from the corner of his mouth before grabbing your waist and pulling you straight into his lap the second he sits down behind the club, your ass hitting his thighs.

"you can barely see," he mutters, settling back in the chair while one thick arm locks securely around your middle, hand resting on your upper thigh.

"I can feel it," you insist stubbornly, immediately melting against his chest while your fingers start playing with the rings on his hand.

"that dont even make sense." he replies, smoke curling into the cold night air while his rough palm rubs slowly up your thigh absentmindedly. one of the other bouncers walks past and laughs under his breath after spotting you curled up comfortably in tojis lap.

"you babysittin again?" the guy asks, grinning while toji shoots him an irritated look.

"mind your business," toji mutters immediately, pulling you a little closer against his chest while you mumble something sleepy into his shoulder. a couple minutes later your head starts drooping heavier against him, lashes fluttering while the alcohol finally catches up to you completely.

"..toji" you mumble tiredly, fingers hooking weakly into the front of his shirt. "i think m'gettin sleepy.."

"yeah?" he mutters, glancing down at you while putting out his cigarette against the metal chair beside him.

you squint up at him lazily, still curled against his chest while music pounds faintly from inside the club.

"am I fired?" you ask.

toji actually laughs at that, one hand sliding up your back while he shakes his head.

"course. cant have you takin my job, aye? gonna leave me broke."

tou hum thoughtfully like youre genuinely considering that before your eyes start closing again. the second your body goes limp against him, toji sighs quietly through his nose before adjusting his grip under your thighs and standing up with you still in his arms.

one of the bartenders passing by raises an eyebrow immediately.

"you takin her home already?"

toji glances down at your sleepy face tucked against his neck, his security jacket bunched around your body while you cling to him without even realizing it.

"yeah," he mutters, tightening his hold slightly. "shes done causin' problems for tonight."

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you scramble into his lap, trembling, thighs already shaky. he holds you steady by your waist, watching your desperate little attempts to line him up. his cock brushes against your folds and you whine, fumbling, and his lips twitch. “what’s the matter?” he asks softly. “too dumb to do it yourself?”

“n-no, i can—” you try, voice cracking, but your hands are clumsy, slipping on his shoulders as you sink down on him too fast, too shallow, then jerk back up with a cry. he exhales sharply, eyes flickering down where you’re barely seated on him, his tip stretching your entrance.

“look at you,” he breathes, “you can’t even get it in all the way.”

“s-sugu—” you gasp, desperate.

“shh. dont worry your pretty little head about it. just—” his hands guide your hips down slowly, his cock sliding deep until your eyes roll back “—focus on feeling good, okay?”

your walls flutter frantically around him, your thighs twitching as you try to lift yourself and fail. his grip tightens, holding you down until you’re whining, trembling in his lap. “come on,” he teases, “what happened? can’t even move your hips without me helping?”

you shake your head, lips parted, tears welling in your eyes from how full he feels. suguru’s smirk goes molten.

“that’s what i thought.”

he loosens his hold just enough to let you wobble your hips and it’s messy, your hips roll sloppy little circles that barely move him at all. his cock drags against your walls and you keen, head falling onto his shoulder. “so cute,” he whispers, “trying so hard. brain all fuzzy, isn’t it?”

“m-mhm!” you whimper, barely there.

he groans, bucking up into you suddenly. you yelp, clinging to him, and he does it again, harder, until you’re bouncing helplessly on his lap. “there you go,” he pants, “just let me take over.”

“pleasepleaseplease—” you gasp, nails clawing down his back.

he presses his mouth to your ear, voice a deep rumble. “i like you better like this, baby." he brushes a few strands of hair off of your forehead, “you're so pretty when you're this needy.”

your walls clamp down at that and he moans, dragging you down hard onto him. your whole body jolts, thighs trembling wildly. “fuck,” he hisses, “gonna make you forget how to talk. just a pretty little toy for me to use. would you like that, sweetheart? do you just wanna be my pretty fucktoy?”

your breath hitches, hips stuttering as your eyes go hazy. “mmh… y-yeah… wanna be yours, sugu! … don’t wanna think anymore…”

his hand slides down, pressing his thumb to your clit and circling, and your hips jerk violently, head snapping back. “fuck— you're perfect. that’s it. let go f'me.”

“s-sugu!!” you moan, eyes glassy.

“shit, baby” he grits, fucking up into you harder now. “so tight.”

“s-sugu—ru—” you sob, eyes rolling.

he barks out a laugh, sharp and sweet. “angel, is that all you can say right now? my name? too fucked out to think of anything else?”

“h-huh—?” you whimper, dizzy, and he melts, cupping your cheek with his other hand, thumb brushing away the drool that’s spilled down your chin.

“so cute,” he murmurs, “so fucking cute like this.”

then he slams up into you again and again until you’re choking on his name like it’s the only word you know.

because in that moment, you can't think of anything else even if you wanted to.

ik this is awful im sorry

it has you collapsing into him, hips shamelessly raising, arching into his hand. “i don’t— hnn— know,” you lie.

"mhm," obviously not believing you. "i'm gonna ignore your blatant lie because this is turning me on a ridiculous amount." another finger joins his first, opening you up with them.

GOJO's stomach flips as your messy cunt drools into his palm, biting into his lip as he whines. he can barely take it, not a clue as to why you're this worked up but not bothering to put much thought into it. he can't, not when you want him this bad. using his other hand to reach into his waistband and free his achy cock.

you don't even register it until his fingers slip from you and are replaced with his tip, poking at your hole and slowly pressing into you. shudders running through you at it, so excited at the promise of his big dick splitting you in half.

he's going slowly—gently—aware of your sleepy state and how little foreplay there's been. you're greedy though, head tucked into his neck and muttering out, "hurry— hng— up."

"i don't wanna hurt you, pretty," thumb brushing your hip bone lovingly, "gotta be— fuck!— hnng—"

he was talking too much, ignoring him and sitting up just to slam yourself down his whole length. obscenely full of him, pussy bulging around the thick base of his cock. unable to help the way you're fluttering around him, cunt overwhelmingly stuffed and thankful for it.

your eyes drag lazily across all of him, his expression a little fucked out from the shock. hands gripping you tight to him as he bites back whimpers, abs clenching as he tries not to immediately fuck up into you fast and hard.

there's a lot that GOJO can handle but you're not always one of them, frequently knocking him off his feet. he's struggling not to cum prematurely, balls pulled tight and his dick twitching. the sudden feeling of having your snug cunt sucking him in and trembling around him is driving him crazy.

the view from where you're sat is breathtaking, taking your boyfriends cock and watching him try to get a handle on himself. trailing your gaze lower and appreciating the happy trail he has. eventually focusing in on his piercing, involuntary reaction of your pussy growing slicker around him.

leaning down enough to place your hands on his stomach, dragging them up to his chest. lowering your thumb a little to flick teasingly at the metal in his skin. GOJO huffs out a stifled sound of need, surprised by the stimulation.

his tongue licks over his lower lip. "maybe the first time was an accident but now i just think you're playing with me."

"i don't know what you're talking about 'toru," innocently tilting your head at him.

raising your hips a little and at the same time that you drop back down onto him, you pinch his nipple. the moan he lets out is like music to your ears, he's turning into a puddle for you. hips fucking up a little, asking for more.

you're still stuck on other things though, leaning down properly to kiss along his collarbones. sucking small marks along his dewy skin, licking over them as if to seal it. butterflies in your tummy as you finally lick at satoru's piercing. a flick of your tongue, testing to see how he reacts.

"hah— ffuck—" his voice is sighed.

he's going to say something more but you're taking his whole nipple in your mouth and playing with the piercing using your tongue. humming at his moans, his hips twitching upwards needily, it throws your balance and your mouth pops off him.

your finger moves to circle his nipple, your saliva helping the glide. pad of your digit gently rubbing over his hard nipple. he's growing impatient, breaths panted as he watches what you're doing.

GOJO can feel the way your cunt is leaking all over his dick and he's finally clicked into what got you this way, "if you— hah— like the piercing this much you should've just told me."

"i don't like it," you deny for no particular reason other than to possibly work him up.

bouncing your hips softly, fingers still pinching and teasing his nipple. now you're trying to see just how much of this he'll put up with before he snaps. it doesn't take him long at all. suddenly hitting his limit and pulling you down onto him.

his arms hold you tight to him, hands in the crooks of your knees as he manoeuvres himself so he's standing on his own knees. you cling to him, impressed by his ability to shift you both without slipping from your pussy.

barely giving you a moment to breathe let alone praise him for this impressive feat, immediately fucking up into you harshly. his dick hitting all the most devastatingly pleasurable spots inside you. feeling yourself quickly becoming cock drunk, moaning and clawing at his back.

"should i get the other one done?" he whispers into your ear, "since you seem to love it so much?"

oh, you like the idea of that and your cloying cunt gives it away, it has him laughing at you, “noted, i’ll get the other one done just for you and then you’ll be able to feel both of them rubbing against your nipples while we fuck.”

you whimper into his skin, imagining it and losing yourself. already able to feel your nipple catching on his current piercing with every other thrust he delivers right to your cervix.

"'toru— hnnn— i can't— i'm gonna—"

"—ready to cum? so soon?" he coos. "this is why i love fucking you first thing in the morning, it's so easy to have you cumming all over my dick."

he's right, you're particularly sensitive in the mornings, especially when you're woken up as horny as you are. a few more sharp thrusts and you're finishing, pussy dripping your mess everywhere.

GOJO tips you over onto your back, now hovering over you, "i'm so glad i lost that bet."

“what’s his name again?” you asked your husband earlier, feigning disinterest as you sipped casually from your cup like your thighs weren’t already pressing together under the table.

he barely looked up from his phone. “fushiguro. toji, i think. owns the company.”

toji.

you murmured it under your breath. tasted it like sugar on your tongue. let it linger, slow-melting at the back of your throat. it stayed there, simmering, while your husband went back to checking emails like the man outside wasn’t sculpted to ruin marriages. the kind of built that made you question your own vows. the kind of built that made you wonder if the devil did, in fact, wear carhartt.

and now he’s in your house. not even fifteen minutes ago, he knocked on the backdoor, asking to use the bathroom real quick. smiled at you when you opened it, flashing that cocky little smirk. called you “ma’am” and dragged his eyes down your body so slow you swore your knees wobbled. and you— fucking traitor— you let him in.

he didn’t go to the bathroom. not really.

he’s in your kitchen now. behind you. one hand shoved between your thighs, the other curled tight around your throat, pressing your back to his chest while his mouth drags hot filth across the shell of your ear.

“look at you,” he growls, breath thick and cocky as his fingers glide over the soaked cotton between your legs, “drippin’ through your fuckin’ shorts. is this what you do when your husband’s gone? act like a tease? bend over for strange men who knock on your door?”

your breath stutters. hips twitch. the counter edge bites into your stomach as you grab it for support. “he’s- he’s right outside,” you pant, voice trembling, shame curdling with heat. “he could walk in any second—”

“then i’d go faster,” he laughs, mean and low, already dragging your waistband down. “bend you over the sink, fuck you right here in front of him. let him see what his little housewife sounds like when she’s actually full.”

you gasp— sharp, scandalized, aching— and he grins against your skin like he’s won. you try to look back, to protest, to say anything, but he’s already got your shorts and panties around your thighs in one rough tug, his belt clinking open behind you with a slow metallic slide that makes your breath catch. practiced hands. greedy hands.

“wait—” you whisper, panicked, already pulsing between your legs from the thrill.

smack!

his palm lands hard on your ass, echoing loud off the tile.

“don’t start now,” he grunts, grabbing your hips and manhandling you into place. “you knew what this was the second you opened the door in those tiny fuckin’ shorts. you wanted this. wanted to be used, didn’t you?”

you don’t answer. can’t. not before he’s inside.

deep.

the first thrust punches the air from your lungs. your whole body seizes around him— choked gasp, lips parted, no sound. he’s so thick it feels like he’s rearranging everything inside you, like he’s been waiting for this moment since he saw you through the glass that morning— pretty little housewife in a too-tight tank, sipping iced coffee like a whore in disguise.

“fuck,” he huffs, already grinding in slow and brutal, the stretch unbearable. “this pussy’s tight. ain’t no way your husband’s filling you like this. probably finishes before he even gets halfway in.”

you whimper, face hot, shame sticky and loud in your chest. “stop- don’t talk about him—” slap. his hand finds your ass again, harder this time. your knees buckle on impact.

“why not?” he sneers. “gonna act shy now? you weren’t shy when you bent over the counter. weren’t shy when you looked me up and down like you knew i’d fuck the attitude outta you.”

he grabs a fistful of your hair, yanks your head back until your spine arches and your cunt tightens around him from the new angle. then he fucks you— hard. relentless. thick hips slamming against your ass like a man on a mission. it’s vulgar. fast. wet. your slick drips down your thighs and his cock hits that spot inside you that makes your vision blur.

“quiet,” he spits, biting at your jaw. “you wanna get caught? wanna let your sweet little husband hear what this married cunt sounds like when she’s actually used?”

you whine, broken, drooling against the counter.

“yeah,” he grunts, slapping your ass again as your body jerks under him. “that’s what i thought. fuckin’ housewife act, and you’re clenching around me like a goddamn slut.”

he leans down, presses his mouth to your ear, and you swear you feel his smirk as he growls, “go ahead, baby. cum for me. let that cunt squeeze me like it needs it.”

and you do.

you cum so violently your knees give out and he has to hold you up, one arm banded tight around your waist while the other fists your hair, hips still rolling deep through every pulse of your orgasm. your walls flutter around him like you’re trying to milk him for everything he’s worth.

“fuck,” he groans, rutting into you harder. “you feel that? feel how deep i am, huh? bet you like it. bet you want me to stuff you full right here while your husband’s out there talkin’ about fertilizer.”

you’re not even pretending anymore. there’s no point in resisting, no point in feeling guilty. you want it. the filth. the risk. him.

“please,” you choke out, voice raw, face slick with tears and sweat and spit. “please, cum in me. want it, toji- want you to fill me up—”

that’s all it takes.

he slams in deep and stays there, cock twitching, groaning low in your ear as thick ropes of cum flood your cunt. his fingers dig into your hips, bruising, holding you still as you tremble and shake and take every single drop. you feel the wet heat leaking down your thighs, your pussy clenching around him like it needs the mess.

he doesn’t pull out straight away. just stays there, breathing hard, his cock still nestled deep inside as if he can’t bear to leave your body. then, with a low groan, he finally withdraws— slowly— watching his cum spill out of you, dripping onto your thighs, down your legs, onto the floor.

you flinch when he reaches for the paper towels, but all he does is wipe the mess between your legs with an offhanded casualness that makes your face burn. he moves with the ease of someone who’s done this a hundred times, treating your body with the same careless efficiency he’d use on a countertop.

“thanks for the hospitality,” he mutters, licking his thumb to swipe a streak of mascara from your cheek. “tell your husband the lawn’s comin’ along nice.”

then he tucks himself back in, buckles his belt, and walks out the door as if nothing happened, back into the sun, back to his crew, back to pointing at grass while your body’s wrecked from the inside out.

you barely have time to breathe before the back door swings open yet again.

“hey babe!” your doting husband chirps, wiping sweat from his brow as he leans in to kiss your cheek. “that toji guy’s great, huh?”

you smile. sweet. polite. like you’re not full of someone else’s cum.

“yeah,” you say, smoothing your shirt. “he’s got a really good… technique.”