another eviction notice.

this is getting ridiculous.

and no, denki is never going to take accountability for it, or admit he's his fault. he just keeps finding shitty neighbors that can't mind their damn business, is all! he doesn't have that kind of money yet, but when he does, he’s so getting himself a penthouse. no one will have shit to say to him then.

he’s just listening to his fans, really! all those thirsty men and women alike that are subscribed to his onlyfans, they love it when he gets noisy in his videos, it’s literally his brand.

because, c’mon, who doesn’t like a pretty boy that becomes a whimpering, messy thing when he plays with his dick on camera? flushed cock nestled in a cute little clear toy, for everybody to gaze in awe at when he fills it up with his cum and starts crying, because it feels so good?

seriously, being denki kaminari’s neighbor is a blessing, not a nuisance. however, he has to deal with the fact that this is the fourth apartment he moves into since starting his little amateur career. at this rate, he’s going to make a tour of the whole damn city— that is, if realtors haven’t already started to warn each other about him. that would’ve been bad.

last week he informed his regular audience that he was going into some sort of hiatus for finals week, which is true, but he also wanted to wait a bit before filming a movie in his new place. this time, he has another factor playing into his fear to be evicted— you.

pretty— no, smoking hot you, who, of course, happen to be his downstairs neighbor. because denki kaminari has the worst fucking luck in the world.

so he gets creative. he still supplies content, but it’s shorter videos, and he’s not even at home in most of them. in his mind, getting arrested for public indecency because he jacked off inside a bathroom stall in his uni library isn’t nearly as bad as getting evicted.

but in none of them he ever gets off properly, doesn’t give his body the chance to react the way it craves to. he’s bound to break.

and boy, does he break.

the night he finally films, it’s impossible for him to hold back. phone perched on the tripod, recording every single moment of denki coming undone with no restraints, cumming inside his toy over and over again until he almost passes out.

he only had enough energy to stop the video on his phone, then crashed immediately after, not even bothering to turn off his ring light or change his sheets.

the next few days are lived in a constant state of paranoia, fearing the sight of a paper slip on his front door or his mailbox, ducking behind corners whenever one of his neighbors would pass by. his peace was short-lived, though.

“hey, kaminari, right?”

denki freezes as he skims through his daily mail, idling in the lobby instead of taking everything up to his apartment like he should’ve done. fucking idiot, he mentally scolds himself.

because you’re standing right behind him, expecting eyes trained on yours when he turns around to face you. “y-yeah…uh, yeah. that’s me,” he croaks out pathetically, panic simmering low in his belly.

“then i was right, i did hear you the other night,” you state flatly, and with the unreadable face you’re sporting, you’re not helping denki’s incoming mental breakdown. but then, you speak up again.

“it sounded like you were having fun,” you shrug. “good for you. i might’ve listened in a bit but, hey, you were making it kinda hard not to.”

he just stares at you, absolutely dumbfounded, jaw unhinged while his brain blanks. “y-you…you’re not mad?” he forces the words out of his mouth, realizing he had to say something.

“huh? why would i be mad?” you tilt your head to the side. “i’m a downstairs neighbor, i know the risks. plus, you’re not exactly an inconvenience.”

denki must be dreaming, he must be, because there’s no fucking way you’re…flirting with him?

yet, it’s so clear— the way you keep checking him out, like you’re already picturing every way you can slut him out in order to make him recreate those very same sounds you, yes, did touch yourself to the other night.

so, of course, he can’t let this opportunity slip.

“so…how do you feel about cameras?”

⋆ ★ ⋆

“oh…oh shit…fuck, b-baby please! p-please, just like that…”

denki is positively losing his mind. you’re on your knees, arms pushing your pretty tits together as your head bobs to and fro, to and fro, making drool bubbles around the base of his cock. your eyes never leave his face, glinting with something evil, chest puffing with pride every time you can make him sound even more miserable.

you take allll of him in your mouth, until his balls are pressed against your chin, nose shoved into his pelvis. you’re also very much aware of the phone pointed towards the two of you, but you don’t mind. if anything, it’s enough incentive to put on a little show.

when you pull back, it’s with a loud pwah!, a mix of spit and pre coating the lower half of your face, strings of saliva still connecting your lolling tongue to the red tip of denki’s cock as you wrap your hand around it. you keep your mouth open, smearing the mess all over your lips until they’re glossy and shiny, slapping the head on your cheek, your tongue, your tits.

“ngh— b-baby, stop - hah - stop teasing,” he whines helplessly, wishing to reach out and touch you, but he obediently keeps his hands behind his back, still tied up with your thong (a little keepsake for him for later).

“mhh?” you big your eyes at him, faux innocence etched over your features. “are you close, denks? you wanna cum?”

“yes!” he pants out, chest heaving. “p-please, i’ll be good! i-i’ll be so fucking good, baby, please.”

god, your pussy is so wet.

“i’ll make you cum,” you say slowly. “then i want to sit on your cute little face, how does that sound? keeping your mouth busy so you don’t risk getting kicked out of here too?”

and you don’t give him the chance to, stuffing your throat with his cock again and making him keen, hips bucking forward involuntarily until he hears your faint gagging. that’s his breaking point. he completely loses control, balls tightening as he fills your mouth with a hefty load of cum, which you swallow down like a champ, and make sure to milk him through it until he’s a weak, twitchy little thing.

when you finally pull away, he’s still trying to come back to earth. he’s so, so cute. blonde hair sticking to his forehead, whole face flushed and damp, lips still plump and kiss-bitten from your little makeout session before he started filming.

“hey, still with me, denks?” you check in, placing your hands on his thigs and rubbing soothing circles on his skin with your thumbs. his nod is barely a twitch of the head, and you can’t see it, but he’s trying his best to give you a thumbs up behind his back.

“godd,” you smile. “gonna give you a few more minutes to come back to me, ‘kay? but—” you turn to his phone, “—i want you to turn that off when you fuck me later.”

@ kamislop || masterlist ◦ Ko-fi ◦ requests ◦ taglist

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✦ katsuki hates arguing with you ⸝⸝ .ᐟ

katsuki who feels particularly bad after an argument. he can't even remember what it was about, only understands his own feelings enough to know that he doesn't want to make you feel like that again — he doesn't want to feel that distant from you ever again.

even after the problem is resolved through a heart to heart and make-up kisses, he wants to prove to you that he means it — and maybe quiet the voice in his head that yearns for reassurance while he's at it.

he memorizes your body for hours, cherishing it like it's been gone for too long. kisses littered all over your body, head between your thighs ... even just sitting on his haunches admiring the way your chest rises and falls ... anything he can do to erase the distance he's created in his head and make it up to you.

and in being so entranced with making you feel good, he ignores himself. rutting against silken sheets or the heel of his palm if it means his tongue can please you for just a few more minutes. whispering against the inside of your thighs about how 'sorry' he is, while his voice falters.

it isn't until you forcibly pull his head from between your legs that you realize he's a goner — eyes puffed up, mouth bruised hues of red, and his cock sitting painstakingly trapped in his boxers. nodding in reassurance that he deserves to feel good too, and practically begging him to let you take care of him in return.

he's an incohearant mess by the end of it. his forehead practically glued to yours, with all semblance of restraint disappearing after every thrust. he barely makes it 15 minutes before he's chewing on his lip, willing himself not to finish first.

katsuki who can't bear the thought of losing you in a world that feels incomplete without you.

© — tokkushin : all rights reserved. all works belong to me .ᐟ pls do not repost/copy, or feed into ai.

no kissing.

should’ve been easy enough, since it was the only boundary you’d set when you said yes to this absurd agreement with enjin. he could call you at any time, waltz in your room as he pleased, and you barely had any limits when it came to sex.

but if he wanted to get his fix from you, that was the only rule he would have to follow.

should be easy enough, right?

wrong.

“fuck, girl, you’re - hah - takin’ me so well…” the lewd, wet squelch of your pussy bounces off the walls as enjin’s cock keeps pummeling your hole raw. you can barely formulate a sentence, or even a thought, face mushed so deep into your pillow you wouldn't be able to talk anyway.

but it’s okay, enjin knows your pussy’s doing all the talking for you. one of his big, inked hands is splayed over your arched back, the other keeping firm purchase on your hip for leverage. he hunches down just enough for his lips to skim the nape of your neck, for his leaky tip to brush just shy of your cervix as he gives you a deeeeep stroke that has your knees wobbling.

“aht, aht,” he warns, tapping the side of your ass twice. “ass up, c’mon, you can take it.”

you whine something unintelligible into the pillow, white-knuckled fingers gripping it like a lifeline. between enjin positively fucking the lights out of you and your tits squished into the mattress as he forced you into the most pornographic-looking doggy he’s ever seen, you can barely breathe.

when he watched the insane - and definitely uncomfortable - angle your back was arched at, he was truly grateful it wasn’t him being folded like that.

“e-enjin, fuck—” you somehow manage to huff out, turning your head to the side. “hm?” he hums, nuzzling his nose against your cheek. “tapping out on me already?” he asks, hips stilling.

“fuck off, no,” you grunt. “can’t fuckin’ breathe…this thing’s suffocating me.”

when you try to push yourself up on your elbows, and miserably fail, enjin can’t help but snort, but he immediately stops when you shoot him a deadly glare. “here, lemme help.”

your hole clenches in protest at the loss when he pulls out to help you on your back. once you’re all pretty and spread open in front of him, he watches your cunt wink at him, begging to be filled up with all of his impressive inches again.

“better?” he checks in. you nod, but he gets distracted by the fat wad of spit he lets fall onto your puffy folds, fat thumb spreading it until it’s mixed with your glistening slick. it takes every inch of willpower to stop himself from eating you out again, but he knows you’re going to nag him because you’re so hungry for his dick.

so he plants his hands onto your spread thighs once more, fingertips caressing the soft skin before he moves up, up up to streeeeetch your legs all the way until your knees brush the sides of your face. you’re growing impatient, needy little sounds spilling from your lips as his cock brushes against your sensitive clit.

“enjin— fuck!” your complaint is cut short by a powerful thrust. he bottoms out in one smooth move, the mating press he’s keeping you folded in giving him the euphoric sight of a cute little tummy bulge. “hmmm?” he teases, flashing you a grin. “so bossy…wan’ your enjin that bad?”

“j-just - hah - fuck me already…”

he chuckles, face so close to yours you could count every golden speck in his eyes. “yes ma’am.”

it doesn’t take long for you to be a cockdrunk, babbling mess again, enjin’s forehead pressed against yours, open mouth huffin’ n’ puffin’ and grunting your name over and over again. every kiss of his tip against the deep spots within your walls has you keening, back bowing away from the mattress and into his body, needing him closer.

so you don’t really realize his lips are on yours, not exactly kissing, just touching, enough to swallow each other’s moans. his fingers travel up your calves to find your wrists, and he hugs both in one huge hand. he doesn’t notice it’s happening, either, lost in the bliss of the moment, until you shift your head to the side a bit, away from him.

“‘m sorry…” he mumbles, never breaking the pace as he hides his face into your neck. “you’re— nghh, you’re fine, jin…” you pant, not even sure what he’s apologizing for, mind swimming in a lust-crazed daze.

your rule is stupid, anyway. that’s the thought that crosses his mind when your hands squeeze his, your hot breath fanning against the shell of his ear. so he starts with small, tentative pecks over the side of your throat, making sure to keep you dumb enough on his cock as he moves upwards once more.

he presses one to your jaw, one next to your lobe that makes you gasp. he masks the kiss to the corner of your lips with a nibble before fully claiming your mouth. he almost cums right then and there when he feels you melting into him.

enjin falters for just a moment before he breaks, like there was still a part of him that was holding back, waiting for that one switch to be flipped. there are dangerous words clinging to the tip of his tongue, words that he needs to swallow back like bitter bile because that would ruin everything.

but he doesn’t push it, as much as he would love like to kiss you forever, he breaks away, which is also a bad mistake because he’s met by your glossy eyes, spit clinging to your maw like you’re asking for more.

it’s that exact look that makes him cave, his orgasm taking him by surprise. he pulls out instantly, coating your stomach with his release, muttering a string of curses under his breath. when he finally manages to get back to his senses, he sits back on his haunches, rubbing a hand over his face, clearly annoyed.

“fuck, sorry…didn’t mean to so soon,” there’s a tinge of vulnerability in his hushed voice. you’re still catching your breath after that earth-shattering pounding, blinking away your haze to look at him properly. it always tugged at your heartstrings whenever enjin would look like a kicked puppy— can’t shoot at a man that’s already down.

“‘s fine,” you wave him off, pushing yourself up on your elbows. “i can let you shower with me just this once, so you can finish the job.”

he lights up at that. “really?”

it’s hard to bite back your smile. “mhm, i mean, i didn’t cum, so…” you hold a finger up. “but no kissing. that was your first strike, dude.”

“hah!? strike?” his jaw goes slack. “yep!” you nod sternly.

“but you literally liked—”

“not the point! or i’m giving you another strike!”

“yes ma’am,” he holds his hands up in surrender, snorting quietly.

he’ll make you drop that dumb rule someday, he’s sure of it.

┊┊a/n. requested by my lovely @rengoatku i hope i've made your idea justice mwah

sukuna's mouths are the only thing you still struggle to find beauty in — well, one mouth in particular.

the "monster" that was ryomen sukuna was no secret — tattoos, four-arms, and four eyes — a mention of his name is enough to send a village into hiding.

you never paid it too much mind, his form was a reality you've learned to love in all its strangeness.

but you really can't say the same for that mouth protruding from his palm.

everything about it is a nuisance — always finding new ways to make itself known. like when its tongue licks at your palm during the rare times you've swooned him into holding your hand, or when it's the first to greet you in the quiet hours of the morning before the world fully wakes.

sukuna isn't oblivious to your distaste, either. if anything, you'd swear he took pride in the way it riled you up. had it not been such a perfect source of amusement for the King of Curses, you're sure he'd pay it no mind. 

but sukuna could never pass up the chance to toy with you — even if it means the game begins when you least expect it. 

like now, when the only thing on your mind should be the way he's caging you against the sheets, hips rutting against yours at just the right angle — it's insulting when the only thought on your mind is how that thing is getting dangerously close to your face.

lapping and sucking at your neck like its own personal chew toy, your face wound tightly in the crook of his arm while the mouth makes a mess of your neck — lovebites already blooming like constellations on your skin.

"you're too fuckin' loud" he groans, hips never faltering their pace as he towers over you "gonna wake everyone up at this rate — fuck — is that what you want?" 

the sounds of skin slapping are a burden in your mind — that and the low snarl of the mouth beside your ear. "'course not, kuna — fuck — but-" 

"we gotta do something about that noise then, huh?" 

your sounds are buried under the weight of his palm, and the mouth that's never been known to behave. it wastes no time toying at your lips, prying them apart and easing itself into your mouth. it reaches much further than sukuna's ever has, grazing the back of your throat with every agonizing flick.

"kuna!" you whine breathlessly, face scrunching in grotesque as it drags a wet stripe against your cheek. "sukuna — mmph"

it's hard to tell whether the moans are from the way he picks up speed, or from the mouth actively invading your every inch. the lengthened tongue twisting itself with yours forcing drool from your lips.

it's quick to clean it up, lapping at the sides of your face with a snarl and a grin that matches the one on sukuna's face.

"so dramatic," he huffs, accentuating his words with sharp thrusts inside you, "he's just saying 'hello'"

the lips detach from yours with a strained gasp — a thin line of drool still connecting you — your mind races a mile a minute when its shoved between the valley of your bodies.

to say it's frustrating how good it feels is an understatement, every stroke a mocking reminder of the thing you once knew as a nuisance.

but in this haze of pleasure, you can't bring yourself to care.

"fuck, s-sukuna. i need more"

"yeah? i'm sure you do," he snorts, pulling out with a low hum as he makes quick work to flip you over — face pressed into the mattress with one arm, two others stabling your hips, while the palm-mouth latches itself onto your swollen clit. 

your hips grind against his hand desperately, the stubborn lips of his hand mouth lost in the slick of your folds.

"you're a greedy little thing aren't you? always whinin' when it touches you but now you're grinding against it like a brat" he groans, teasing the tip of his cocks against your weeping hole, "bet it feels good to stop putting on your little show, doesn't it. knew you were filthy from the very beginning" 

your argument dies in your throat when he eases back into you, the feeling so intense it's hard to think. you're not sure what to focus on — his thrusts that slowly pick up speed, the tip of his tongue flicking at your clit?

well, there's certainly beauty in this.

© — 𝓿𝐢𝐱𝐮𝐫𝐲𝐨

keishin who comes back one day after practice with the karasuno kids only to find a stranger in his store. not a costumer, no— a girl, happily restocking shelves under his mother’s watchful gaze.

what. the fuck.

as soon as he walks in, his mother sees the million questions in his eyes, and immediately pulls him to the side to prevent him saying something mean. he’s got to admit, she knows him too well.

“she said she just moved into town, and she’s so so lovely, keishin,” she murmured reassuringly. “so put away that grumpy face and be nice, okay?”

he was going to drop it when he was sure you weren’t a threat. so until then, he would test you.

he’s never mean, per se, but he does load up on his teasing, making sure he points out when you leave even a speck of dust on a surface, or put a product in the wrong spot (it was empty, and you had no idea what was supposed to go there. keishin didn’t tell you).

one day you’re going to break, he’s so sure of it— but you never do. you greet him with a wide smile even in the early morning, watering the plants out front that he forgot to water the night before. you don’t bother him unless it’s strictly necessary, and listen intently when he purposefully gives you a half-assed answer.

you…really are nice. too nice. in a way that keishin isn’t exactly ready to come to terms with just yet. but he does loosen up eventually, even if just a little, just enough to start getting flustered by you.

it feels like the situation is slipping out of his control. he shouldn’t feel his cheeks warm up when he sees you in that floral dress you’ve worn numerous times already, shouldn’t feel an irrationally angry twist in his gut when you laugh at a joke one of the karasuno kids makes as they chat outside the store after practice.

in keishin’s mind, the only logical way to deal with this was to make you flustered. totally not because he developed a disgustingly huge crush on you.

you notice the change in his attitude, his tone shifting from condescending to teasing, how he becomes significantly more talkative. was he always such a show-off?

you don’t mind, of course, because you were no stranger to keishin’s charm, even if he was a bit…odd. but you were happy he’d warmed up to you anyway, even if you didn’t really know the reason.

“watch the front for me, i’ll be back in five.”

you halt mid-action through dusting a shelf to look over your shoulder. “smoking again, keishin? it’s only eleven.”

he turns to look at you, a cigarette already dangling between his lips. you narrow your eyes at him. “how many have you smoked already?” you ask, your tone mildly accusatory. “only the ones since opening the store? or since i woke up this morning?”

you can only sigh, shaking your head as you go back to your chore. “i know it’s not my place to talk, and i’m sure you’ve heard this many times before, but i think there’s plenty other things that are better than a cig—”

“yeah? like what?”

you gasp, heart leaping out of your chest as he’s suddenly standing behind you, chocolate eyes peering down at you as he cocks his head. “well, for one, not give me a heart attack!” you squeak, hitting his apron-covered chest with the cloth you were using.

he chuckles, and your heart does another kind of leap when his fingers wrap around your wrist, keeping your hand on him. “i think i have a better one,” is all he whispers before closing the distance between your lips.

it’s nothing grand, just a peck that lasts long enough to leave you dazed, eyes wide like saucers when he pulls back, sporting the most unfairly handsome shit-eating grin you’ve ever seen.

“i won’t go out for a smoke, but only if i can do this instead. that okay with you?”

you’re still a bit stunned, but manage to nod your head. “y-yeah…totally cool for me,” you say a bit out of breath.

if you were going to react like that every time, quitting cigarettes was going to be easy as pie for him.

┊┊a/n. i was held at gunpoint by @jeanmarcosno1 to write this i am scared. never wrote for hq be nice.

@ kamislop || masterlist ◦ Ko-fi ◦ commissions ◦ requests ◦ taglist

┊┊🏷️: @tentypos, @simbaruto, @somethingwebs, @jeanmarcosno1, @trilxogyyy, @27-awesome-ham-sandwiches, @nightmarenyxx, @vlinzoi, @updownandbatty, @levertons, @zmbkats, @lonelyfooryouonly, @abadbitchblogs, @hairiane-ari, @plutooowo, @mo072806, @xoxocelestial, @da1ntyli1ly, @mamashima, @v4mp1r3b4tzz, @love-d-luxe, @tokkushin, @amberr0ckz, @satorusane, @spookyeomgoose, @6x-x9, @wannasleeppls, @skybluesskin, @snore-3, @lilithkleia

“are you sure the ratio is correct?”

“i’ve been doing this since i was fourteen, yes i’m pretty sure the ratio is correct, can you shut up?”

“i’m going to put black dye in your shampoo, kirishima.”

the redhead simply snorts at your empty threat, continuing to mix the dye in the small plastic bowl. after so many years of doing his color by himself, the supplies he owns rival a professional hairdresser’s.

you sit on the bathroom counter, legs dangling and slowly rocking to and fro, hands curled around the edge as you watch your best friend with a curious look— as if you haven’t done the same exact thing so many times before. he touches up his roots, you sit by the sink and either play music or yap about your week.

eijirou can’t imagine doing it any other way. he’s sure that if he tries to bleach his hair when you’re not here, his whole head is going to fry off.

“you wouldn’t dare…but don’t worry, it’s not something i want to find out,” he drawls coolly, putting down the bowl and brush to get his gloves.

“can i ask you something?” you speak up suddenly. “well, it’s two things, actually. can i try doing your roots? and can you bleach a streak of my hair? a small one at the back, maybe. just because.”

“sure thing, i can guide you,” he nods, not doubting you for even a fraction of a second— he trusts you too much for that. “and do you want me to dye it red after? we can match!”

your grin widens, clapping your hands enthusiastically when he agrees. “of course i’d love to match! this is so fun, do you think it’ll suit me?”

eijirou arches a brow, a silent ”seriously?” in his expression. “do i even have to say it? you can rock any look you want! i’m actually worried you might outshine me.”

you laugh, your foot playfully kicking the side of his knee. “you’re such a dork.”

it’s a few more minutes before everything’s ready. you’re the one wearing gloves now, scooping up bleach with a brush, ready to apply it over eijirou’s already sectioned hair.

“you’ve seen me do this plenty of times, i’m sure you’ll do great,” he says, coming to stand right in front of you. “just make sure to add it evenly, okay?”

you nod, breath hitching when eijirou’s hands come to rest on either side of you, effectively caging you in. you’ve been closer than this, and he’s doing it because you need to be able to reach— so why the fuck are you so worked up?

“sure, y-yeah…i’ll do the front first.”

making sure you do a good job and don’t mess up eijirou’s head definitely helps you not think about the proximity, but with the way he can’t stop fucking staring at you, you might just lose it.

“eiji…you’re staring. it’s creepy,” you try to wave it off as a joke, hoping it would diffuse the situation. “mhm, i know,” he hums. “can’t really look anywhere else tho, your face is the safest option.”

your hand halts, brush idling midair as you lean back, then look down. you quickly find two explanations, hugged tight by your little top. when you look back up, eijirou’s ruby eyes are pointing up to the ceiling, lips pursed as he whistles absentmindedly.

“seriously?” is all you say.

“i didn’t want to look like a creep!” he quickly explains. “they’re kinda right there, a-and your face is pretty to look at, too.”

“too?” you snort, unable to bite back a grin. “were you enjoying staring at my boobs, eiji?”

you tease him with such a sweet voice he almost moans, condescension dripping from your lips, rosy and plump and he’s imagining them doing a whole lot of things he really shouldn’t be imagining right now. but he can’t lie, not when he’s had a crush on you for so long.

he never said anything because he didn’t want to overstep, mistaking how comfortable and safe you felt around him for something more. he’s not that kind of guy.

“well, y-yeah. but it’s not something i do often! it’s kinda hard t-to ignore, you’re a very beautiful girl—”

“is that why you’re hard?”

shit. was he?!

his eyes snap downwards, and sure enough, he’s sporting a rather embarrassing tent in his shorts. he really has nothing to defend himself anymore. “…yeah.”

you giggle, carefully placing the - basically still full - bowl of bleach next to you on the counter. “that is distracting, i gotta admit.”

“really?” eijirou meets your gaze, his face so close to yours he can smell the strawberry milkshake you drank on the way to his house on your lips. “mhm,” your voice’s dropped a couple octaves. “looks like i might have to do something about it.”

he’s about to ask what you mean by that but then you’re kissing him, effectively clearing up all his doubts. his hands leave the edge of the counter to find your waist, molding around the sweet, sweet curves to press your chest against his.

“eiji…” you gasp into his mouth, surprised by his feverish hunger. “sorry,” he breathes. “i’ve just been waiting to do this for so long…”

his tongue licks at the seam of your lips for permission, which you gladly grant him. your palms paw at his pecs, fisting the fabric of his black tank top. he tastes like protein shake, the one you always say smells yucky— though you have to admit, the flavor is pleasant when he’s making out with you.

it’s cute, the way he’s so needy yet still reverent with his touch, thumbs brushing the underside of your breasts through the fabric of your cami, almost scared to reach any higher. with his raging boner pressing insistently against your inner thigh, though, you can’t afford to be as subtle.

“oh, fuck,” eijirou’s breath hitches when your hand palms him, cock throbbing pathetically, demanding out. “do you let all your hairdressers get you off?” you tease, nose nuzzling his jaw as you thumb at his clothed tip to feel the warmth of his pre spread.

“are you asking if i jerk off in my bathroom often?” he quips with a breathy laugh. “because i do. i usually imagine it’s you, though.”

a smile tugs at your lips, teeth grazing the side of his throat enough to make him hiss. “cute.”

then your hand dips inside his shorts, and eijirou loses it. his fingers dig into your ribs, brows knitting with in a silent plea as you begin to stroke him slowly. “you’ve thought about me doing this?” you whisper against his neck, smiling when his adam’s apple bobs with a gulp.

“among other things,” he chokes out, hips bucking forward, involuntarily seeking more friction. “yeah?” you coo, digits hooking into the waistband of his shorts, tugging them down along with his boxers, allowing his dick to spring free, heavy and leaking.

“what else?” you goad, thumb collecting a bead of pre that was dripping down his tip to press against his slit. “oh,” eijirou’s legs twitch, a whine getting trapped in his throat. “s-sometimes…i’m touching you, too.”

your cunt clenches at the desperation in his voice, and you don’t even realize you’re shifting closer to the edge of the counter, legs spreading wider— an invitation. he looks like you’re trying to kill him, big hand gripping your thigh, fingers slipping right under the hem of your shorts.

your confidence falters when he traces the edge of your panties, the anticipation almost unbearable. eijirou’s rubies flick between yours. “you want me to touch you?”

it’s almost embarrassing how fast you nod.

who would’ve thought a hair dye hangout with your best friend would’ve turned into the two of you having your hands down each other’s pants - literally - like horny teenagers, getting each other off and making out so sloppily you’re both drooling.

“eiji!” you keen, the squelches your cunt makes with every thrust of his fingers in and out of your hole bounce off the walls in a sinful symphony. your shorts and panties dangle from a single ankle, his lay in a puddle somewhere on the floor after kicking them off at some point.

there’s barely an inch of space between your bodies, your hand pumping his dick so close to your core you could just slip—

but that’s for another time.

his thumb rubs your clit in maddening circles, pace faltering here and there when his cock throbs, the feeling of your touch on him making him lose his mind. “baby, you’re squeezing me…” he kisses the corner of your mouth. “are you close?”

you let out an affirmative whine, not trusting yourself to be able to say anything coherent. eijirou smiles, middle and ring finger curling to stroke that sweet sweet spot within your walls. “me too…you’re - hah - s-so good, gonna—”

he’s the first one to break, hot ropes of creamy white spurting out and coating your puffy folds as he keeps working you. the sight of his cum on your pussy is enough to send you over the edge as well, orgasm crashing over you in a shattering wave.

all that’s left after your shared high are heaving breaths and awkward looks, both of you trying to register what just happened. you’re the first one to speak up. “that was very unprofessional of me as a hairdresser.”

“yeah,” he snorts. “gonna leave a one-star review because i enjoyed it, though.”

“only one star!?”

“well yeah, i have to discourage any other potential clients!”

it’s your turn to giggle now, playfully bumping your shoulder against his chest. “i might have to agree with you, though…hair isn’t my calling. are you sure i didn’t even manage to get half your head done. but you are a very distracting costumer.”

“i guess i have to admit my own faults as well, the stylist was too pretty to resist,” he grins.

“think you can let me finish my job without pouncing me again?”

“no promises.”

┊┊a/n. this was the inspo ty to my bbg @dynamite-roll i'm so sorry if it's genuinely buns :( i was having beef with this one for some reason

-🛸

18+ MDNI!!!

hyperspermic bf!tamaki who you think is repulsed by the idea of having sex with you at first. you understand not wanting to get straight to business right after getting together, but after two, three, four whole months— it was getting ridiculous.

hyperspermic bf!tamaki who feels so disgustingly guilty for always turning down his pretty girl, never doing anything more than making out for hours. you wonder if you simply didn’t turn him on enough, which doesn’t really add up, because when you straddle his lap, you can feel his cock throb right against your core. you never get to grind against it, though. he always stops you before you have the chance to, and you end up going back home with your panties ruined and an ache beween your legs you’re forced to take care of on your own.

hyperspermic bf!tamaki who’s sure you’re starting to hate him and will break up with him, but he’s too scared to come forward about his…condition. you see, poor boy tamaki amajiki has hyperspermia, which means he cums buckets. and that’s not an exaggeration. he’s afraid you’ll find it gross— find him gross, and the thought of losing you paralyzes him.

hyperspermic bf!tamaki who should’ve seen this coming, and now he’s got to reap what he sowed. “i just don’t understand what i’m doing wrong! you never say anything and i’m kinda tired of it, tamaki.”

his heart breaks when he sees the disheartened expression on your face, like you’re giving up on him. he really can’t blame you, you did try everything. it’s only his fault.

hyperspermic bf!tamaki who can’t imagine himself being with anyone else but you, so he finally, finally works up the courage to tell you. “y-you…never did anything wrong, believe me. i-it’s me, i have this…thing, and i was too scared you’d find it disgusting. it only happens during s-sex so…”

hyperspermic bf!tamaki who, among the million different scenarios he had prepared himself to brace for, didn’t take your actual reaction into account. eyes wide and sparkling, lips stretching in a wide smile, shoulders relaxing like you’d gotten rid of the biggest weight.

hyperspermic bf!tamaki who, also, didn’t expect you would want a demonstration right there and then. he was sure you would need a bit more foreplay, but when you peeled off your panties to reveal your drooling hole, he realized his words had been more than enough.

“o-oh shit…tamaki, baby, feel ‘s good…” you whine wantonly, dragging your hips up and down his - excitingly surprising - thick cock.

hyperspermic bf!tamaki who’s never felt so good, your pussy wrapping around him so deliciously all he can do is lay there and let you ride him, staring up at you like you’re a goddess, and he’s just a lowly mortal, unworthy of your biggest blessing.

hyperspermic bf!tamaki who starts panicking when he feels he’s close to cumming, fingers digging into your hips as if trying to stop you, but you press a few reassuring pecks on his lips. “it’s okay,” you pant in-between needy moans. “i want it, tamaki…want it all inside…”

hyperspermic bf!tamaki who can’t resist you when you talk so sweetly, like caramel dripping from your every word. "i-i’m close, very close, oh god i’m sorry—”

and then you feel it, the warm splash against your snug walls, before it starts dripping out of your hole as you keep riding him. “it’s so much,” you marvel at the sight, watching his sticky cum cling to your inner thighs.

hyperspermic bf!tamaki who can’t. stop. cumming. he’s a damn mess, whimpering and heaving as you milk him dry, soon meeting your own release as well. your pussy clams down on him so tightly he wonders if you might cut his dick off. but it feels good, so fucking good.

“i’m sorry…i-i’m so, sorry, i can’t stop!” he whines, hips bucking to meet your sloppy cadence, helping you through your high. “i want it!” you cry out, palms planted on his chest as you can’t seem to stop riding him silly, all dumb and full of cum.

hyperspermic bf!tamaki who’s positively ruined when you finally collapse on top of him, but still manages to use the few crumbs of strength he’s got to wrap his arms around you.

hyperspermic bf!tamaki who learned two important lessons that day: he’ll never hold back from speaking up again (with you, for now); he has a whole lot of sex to catch up to now.