von hagen trophy wife

Okay, correction— he had given you dizzyingly wet oral the other week, and it had been enough to take the edge that was building in between the gaps of your spine. But. It’s not the same.

You hate yourself for wanting it. You could go so long, nearly six months without sex after the mess of your last situationship had run its course, and now, you can’t even last two weeks without wanting to get dicked down. It’s sick.

But can anyone blame you? 

You glance over at him again from your desk just a few feet away. His hair is styled effortlessly, and he’s dressed casual in some black slacks and a white button up shirt. You swallow as he lifts his arms to stretch and his shirt follows, revealing the tiniest bit of skin. And his arms— you don’t even know what to say. Just press your legs together, squirming as you try to reign in your thoughts. 

Your boyfriend is so hot it makes you miserable. If you loved yourself a little bit more, you would leave the room and walk away to perform some self reflection. It would be easier than being this close, but unable to touch until you’re behind closed doors. 

(Okay, you understand that decorum is a thing, but the world is working against you right now.)

It’s so miserable. 

You let out a little whine as you deflate, and unfortunately, it captures Gojo’s attention. 

The bastard cocks his head to the side as he excuses himself and starts walking over to you. 

“You okay?” 

“Yeah,” you let out and hope it doesn’t sound as needy as you feel. “Just a little hot.” 

You even wipe your forehead with the back of your hand for emphasis. The only thing you’re hot for right now is for dick. 

God, your brain right now is so awful. You want to cover your face and die. 

Gojo coos, reaching over to pat your head, “Do you want some water?” 

“It’s okay,” you say. Your eyes are tearing up from how horny you are right now. You blink, a lot, and hope he understands that the blinks are morse code. They’re saying, please fuck me. Thankfully, your mouth doesn’t listen to your brain. You safely say, “I think I just need to take a walk. A small walk outside. It’s just a little hot in here. Might get some ice cream from a nearby shop outside.” 

He frowns, and it is the cutest frown you have ever seen in your life. Your misery doubles. “Do you want me to come with? It’d be nice to stretch out my legs too.” 

Ugh, your boyfriend is so sweet. You would love it if he came. Literally and figuratively. “No!” you shake your head. “You should get back to your desk. I know you guys are under a tight deadline, and you’ll probably be staying later to–”

“You’re saying that as if you’re going to be gone for an hour or something,” Gojo laughs as he extends a hand. “Come on, I want some ice-cream too.”

“Alright,” you say, weakly. You take his hand, and he tugs you up to a standing position, all with one hand (ugh, so strong) and you crash against his chest. Your face… against his hard chest. This cannot get any worse. 

Spoiler alert: it does, indeed, get worse. 

For some, god awful reason, Gojo decides to eat an ice cream cone. 

Chocolate flavoured, you note, close to tears. Your favourite flavour. 

You blindly choose an ice cream stick and only realise after opening it that it’s a flavour you hate. Mint chocolate.

He notices with a sweet smile, “Aw baby, you don’t even like that.” 

“I’m,” you try your best to smile. “I’m trying out new things–” 

Gojo licks his cone and short circuits your brain without even trying. The way his tongue moves across the dessert. Your eyes glaze over. 

The last time you saw that view, it was between your thighs. The memory makes you yearn. You are yearning way too hard right now. 

He moves the cone away from his mouth and looks at you with a sudden sharp gaze. It makes your heart race, wondering if maybe he could read your mind and has just been hiding it all this time. That would be so humiliating, if you could actually feel anything beyond how horny you are right now. 

The only thing you can think of is how much you want to kiss him right now. 

His lips are glossy from the ice cream, and you’re utterly captivated by the sight. You could even say hypnotised, because your body moves on its own and takes a step forward for a closer look– and you only snap out of it when he steadies you by placing a hand around your waist. 

“Don’t,” he warns, but there’s something at the edge of it. Something teasing. Maybe even delight. You feel his eyes scan your face, before grinning at full beam, “You are so cute.” 

You flush, “Shut up–”

“You’re hot,” Gojo teases, biting his lip. “I have work to do.”

“I know!” you cover your face in embarrassment. “Don’t look at me like that. I can’t help it. We haven’t– um you know –I have needs!”

He nods, amused, “Uhuh.” 

You pout so hard. You cannot believe (you absolutely can) that he has the nerve to tease you right now. “You’re so mean to me,” you huff, before beginning to walk away. “I’m going back to my desk, don’t follow me!”

You hear his loud laugh. So annoying. Of all the hot men in the world, your heart decided on this guy. Ugh.

You throw the stupid mint chocolate ice cream in the bin and make your way back into the building, ignoring his calls of your name. You get into the elevator and pettily hit the close button repeatedly so that he couldn’t get in with you. 

The elevator, along with everything else in your life, is against you. Gojo slips in just in time with his stupid chocolate cone and heart-shaking grin, and all you can do is stand in the stupid corner and sulk. 

“You know…”  he trails off. 

You refuse to look at him, pulling out your phone to scroll through something instead. Stupidly, you go onto Instagram and the first thing you see is your stupid boyfriend’s latest post. This bastard is everywhere. 

You give up. You give up!

You bear the stupid elevator ride with saint levels of patience. Saint levels because Gojo Satoru is noisily eating his ice cream, like he wants you to die from deprivation. Evil! You want to shake the women in the office who have a very obvious crush on him and ask, is this really the guy you want as your partner for the rest of your life?

Thankfully, the elevator dings and you immediately get out. The blast of the AC in the hallway feels fresher than any air you’ve breathed. 

You eagerly walk away from the devil, before belatedly realising you’re not on the right floor. Your team is located on the fifth floor and this is–

Gojo suddenly appears beside you, taking your hand and dragging you forward, “Come on, we don’t have much time–” 

You’re too disoriented to do anything but let yourself be dragged, “Satoru, where are we going–” 

You turn a corner, down a long hallway that you recognise as meeting rooms. You pass one with a glass wall and peer inside, only to make eye contact with a familiar face, his mouth set into a grim line. Geto Suguru. 

His eyes dart to your arm currently being dragged by Gojo and he looks every bit the face of disappointment. Your mind briefly flashes to the meeting you had about ‘Dating in the Workplace’ and you try your best to look apologetic before he disappears from view. 

You finally stop at a private room at the very end of the hallway. It’s used almost exclusively for important clients as it’s hidden and there are no glass walls in sight. Gojo pulls out his ID and taps it against the card reader. It blinks green, unlocking. He pulls the door open and pushes you in by the small of your back. 

You turn around, just in time to see him close the door shut. 

“Satoru,” you are so confused. Still horny, but at least there’s another emotion there now. “What–”

Gojo nonchalantly looks at his phone, “I have about… fifteen minutes until Suguru’s meeting ends, and then, if we’re lucky, another ten before Utahime goes looking for me.” He pockets his phone, “Wanna fuck?”

You will deny this later when he teases you, but honest-to-god, you fucking whimper before throwing yourself at him. 

He catches you by the waist, just as you loop your arms around his shoulders. You kiss him, passionate, open, and full of tongue. 

Gojo chuckles against your mouth, the sound throaty, sexy, and going straight down to your core. You can’t find it in yourself to give a single fuck, you don’t have time for it all– all you want is for him to touch you, skin against skin–

You moan when you feel his warm hands slip underneath your shirt. His touch is searing, lighting you up from the inside out, and you’re so fucking grateful for it, you find yourself pressing kisses to wherever you can reach. 

His nose, his cheek, his chin, down his neck. You dip your tongue against the valley of his collarbones and just barely hold yourself back from leaving a mark. You settle for pulling his shirt down, kissing every bit of exposed skin you can. 

Eventually, the shirt gets in the way and you pull back with a whine, “‘Toru, take it off already–” 

He rolls his eyes, “You only want me for this–” but takes off his shirt, like he strips for a living. He’s so unbearable. You can’t get enough of him. 

“Satoru,” you swallow, marvelling at his toned chest like it’s the first time you’ve ever witnessed this view. Sue me, I deserve this. “You are so sexy.”

Gojo, to his credit, turns bashful. “Take your clothes off too,” he says, with reddening cheeks. “And stop staring at me.” 

All you wish for is the company to keep the employee’s free gym membership perks. 

He whines, “Please, hurry up–” but before you can even take your shirt off, he’s reaching for you and doing it himself. You can’t even complain. You love it when he does all the work.

In no time, Gojo has you half naked, chest bare, skirt off and underwear pushed down to your ankles as his fingers find your core. You have to hold onto him to stay standing, knees ready to buckle against the pleasure of his fingers rubbing against your clit. 

A little more, and you think you’ll come just from his touch. But you don’t want that. You can get that easily, any other time. What you want is him inside you. 

God, you’re so strong for this: “Satoru,” you pant, grabbing his wrist. “I’m too close. Stop–” 

“You can go again, can’t you?” he says, lips against your ear. “Don’t tell me this is all you want.”

Your eyes flutter as he starts rubbing faster, and you have to bite your lip to stop your moan before HR well and truly fire you. “Please, don’t stop, what are you doing, wait fuck–”

Gojo shushes you, then subsequently takes your breath away when he pulls his fingers away to lift you and place you onto the table. “Oh,” you say stupidly.

“Oh,” he copies, laughing. He bends down to remove your panties and properly take off his pants and underwear, all of which lie haphazardly on the floor. “You’re so lucky you’re cute.” 

You smile, “And pretty.” 

“And pretty,” he affirms, stepping in between your legs. 

You happily pull him closer by wrapping your legs around his waist. “What else?” 

His hands settle on your hips, thumb stroking against your bare skin. He hums, “And funny, kind, dependable, smart, hardworking, and most important of all…”

You can’t help but smile, though it drops immediately when he says, “Incredibly horny.”

You smack his chest, whining, “Stop. Don’t act like I’m the only one–” 

“Can’t keep up with you sometimes,” he teases, hands beginning to massage your thighs. “Starting to regret letting you have your way with me.” 

“Ah,” you moan, feeling his fingers skim the inside of your thigh, travelling closer to where you need him most. “You mean when you fucked me the first time? I don’t remember you complaining. You were so hard. Thought you were gonna cum before you were even all the way in–”

Gojo covers your mouth with his hand, “Don’t be annoying.” 

He looks so embarrassed at the reminder, you can’t help but grin. You lick the palm of his hand and he hastily pulls it away with the most disgusted expression. “Well, what are you waiting for? We’re gonna run out of time.” 

“So demanding,” he huffs but grabs hold of his cock in one hand, stroking himself. 

You reach over, placing your hands over his own and squeezing tighter as you jerk him off together. He lets out a moan as his head tilts back slightly, precum leaking from his tip. You want nothing more than to have his length in his mouth, hitting the back of your throat so hard tears form in your eyes– but you don’t have time for that. 

Gojo knows too, because he tugs your wrist away from his cock before dropping his own. “You’re annoying.” he grumbles. He looks up at you, watching your expression. “Tell me if it’s too much.” 

“I will,” you say, eyes fluttering close as the anticipation builds. He inserts a finger, easily sliding in from how wet you are. He traces small kisses against your jaw, before a torturous in and out begins. 

There’s a clock right above the door, and you feel yourself beginning to sweat as you watch the hands slowly make their way around. You’re caught between two conflicting desires: for Gojo to take his sweet time with you, and to end this as quickly as possible before someone (Suguru, against his will) catches the two of you in this compromising situation.

You don’t realise you’re gripping onto his shoulders tightly during this internal struggle until he uses his other hand to rub your back, “Relax, baby.” 

You plead, “Kiss me?”

He kisses you simply, without even a hint of a tease. 

It’s easier to relax like this, your mind focused on the feel of lips over lips, spit and heat, his tongue rolling against yours over and over. He licks into your mouth, just as he pushes another finger in.

You wrap yourself around him tighter, putting everything into the kiss. Hands tangling into fists around strands of his hair. Bare chests pushed against each other tightly. He’s intoxicating and you feel yourself getting lost into it, the nagging thought of where you’re doing this slowly drifting away. 

He’s so good. At everything, you think. To me.

Even though you’re on borrowed time, Gojo is taking the time to stretch you out, fucking you shallowly with two fingers, scissoring as he strokes your insides in just all the right spots. By the time he finds the spot that has you seeing stars, your toes are curling where they’re pressed against his back. 

All you can hear is the wet squelch of his fingers moving at a steady rhythm, your breath catching in your throat– this should be embarrassing, but somehow, it makes everything feel hotter somehow. You bite your lip to keep a moan from escaping, moving to kiss his cheek. 

“I want to hear how good I make you feel,” he whispers, pulling away until he’s looking into your eyes. His eyes are half lidded with lust, desire swirling around his irises. It makes you feel sexy seeing just how much he wants you. How bad he wants this. 

You reach down to pull his fingers out of you. You feel your hole clenching around nothing, and nearly die at the mesmerised look he gives you. “‘Toru,” you say desperately, hoping he gets the hint. 

“If we had the fucking time, I’d use my mouth–”

“Satoru, please.” you beg. You don’t even wait for him to make his stupid move, you feel so empty right now, you think you might die if you don’t take matters into your own hands. 

You gulp down your desire as you wrap your hand around his cock. He lets out another moan, and it’s music to your ears. Maybe you understand his need to hear you more than you initially thought. “Do you have a condom?” 

You half pray he doesn’t.

“Of course,” he says, snorting when he sees your expression. He presses a soft kiss against your nose, “I don’t like it either. If we didn’t have to go back to work after I’d fuck you raw but…” 

Life sucks when you’re a corporate slave and have to work for another six hours. Sure, you’re making good money but what about your needs? You’re pretty sure getting creampied is somewhere on Maslow’s hierarchy of needs. 

He frowns, “Don’t give me that look–”

You pout even harder, “But it doesn’t feel as nice…”

You give him your best puppy dog eyes, and you see the literal war in his head reflect on his face before he groans, “Don’t get mad at me when you feel it dripping down your thigh later.” 

You giggle. Literally hehe out loud. “Thank you,” you pucker your lips and delight when he gives you a peck. “Now, please, please, please fuck me.” 

“So bossy,” Gojo complains, half-hearted. The fond fool. 

“You know, if we had more time,” you tease, “I’d get you nice and wet with my mouth.” 

“Next time,” he replies, sounding wistful. As if a mouth was as good as any other hole. 

“Mhmm,” you hum, distracted. You adjust yourself on the desk, leaning back with one hand, while the other guides his cock towards your leaking cunt. You’re both holding your breath as the tip brushes against your entrance. 

It’s Gojo who pushes in, gripping you by the hip, as he slowly sinks in. 

You let out breath you didn’t know you were holding, hand gripping the edge of desk as he stretches you open. This is nothing compared to his fingers. This is much more than that. This is exactly what you want. 

He bottoms out and all you can think is full. You’re so fucking full. 

“Satoru,” you pant. 

Gojo doesn’t move, “Tell me– if it’s too much…”

“No,” you shake your head, “Just, I’m so full. I’m–” 

You feel the slightest bit crazed when it hits you again that you’re doing this at work. That there might be people walking around nearby, or maybe even looking for you right now. You can’t remember what time you got here. You can’t remember how much time you have left, but you can’t find it in yourself to give a damn. 

You’re so fucking full. 

“Oh my god,” you breathe out. Every inch of your skin feels like a live wire. 

Gojo leans down to kiss your neck, then further down your chest. He kisses the area above your pounding heart softly, and it’s almost too tender for you to bear. 

And then he’s taking a nipple into his mouth, sucking gently and lapping at it in short successive strokes– you moan, arching your back, pushing it deeper into his hungry mouth. “‘Toru, ah, you can move.” 

“You sure?” he murmurs, moving up again to reach your mouth. 

You nod, closing your eyes as you hook an arm around his shoulders, sealing it with a kiss. Gojo starts to shallowly thrust into you, and you sigh right into his mouth. 

He sets a steady pace, slow and aching as he savours the feeling. But you’re growing impatient– you need more and soon, your hips are bucking up against his desperately.

You hear him growl softly, before his hands grip your hips and hold them steady. He starts fucking into you deeper, desire evident as his nails start digging into your flesh. 

Take it, you think, delirious with pleasure and heat, take me. You fingers find solace in his hair once more as you try to keep up, pulling him closer. Take everything. 

A hand moves from your hips, down to your neglected clit and he starts rubbing circles that has your head falling back as your eyes fall shut. You’re starting to lose all sense. Your body is tingling with pleasure all over, his unrelenting pace pushing you closer and closer to the edge while your moans come out as tiny whimpers. 

He’s full of praises, “You sound so good just like that. It feels good doesn’t it. You were born for this, right? Taking my cock so well. You’re just so good, you’re so fucking good–”

His words take your breath away and your eyes start to water from just how good it feels. Instead you say, “You taught me well,” a broken moan that he immediately echoes. 

“Fuck, baby, don’t say shit like that,” he whines, punctuating it with a hard thrust. “You’re going to make me cum.” 

You mewl, unable to say anything else and you’re getting close– 

Heat coils in your stomach, and you can feel your orgasm creeping up, the spread of heat along your spine, taking you higher and higher. You just barely gasp out, “Satoru, god, please–” 

And all it takes is another swipe of his fingers against your clit and you’re gone. 

You cum with a pitiful moan against his ear, and he doesn’t even try to mask it as a hand wraps around your throat instead. You open your eyes to see his lust blown, sweat starting to drip down his forehead as he stares at you and it’s so fucking hot. He’s so fucking hot you clench around him even tighter and his face buries against your neck. 

“I’m close– I’m gonna– Fuck.” 

You understand immediately. You fist the hair at the nape of his neck and press a kiss to his ear, “Cum in me. Don’t fucking pull out, please. I want it so bad.” 

His breath is hot on your shoulder as he fucks you with abandon. His hands move up to your waist, grip so tight that you’re certain you’ll feel it long after this is done. You’re sensitive from your orgasm, already so stimulated but you just don’t care. The Satoru in your arms is all instinct, all animal, chasing what it wants. 

You. 

 It only takes a couple more thrusts before he cums too. 

His cum is hot and wet inside of you. You moan softly as a deep seated peace settles in your chest. God, you wanted this. You needed this. 

“Thank you,” you whisper, and Gojo weakly laughs, “Stop thanking me for sex. I wanted it too.” 

He pulls out slowly, and you’re grateful for it. You hate the sudden emptiness afterwards. 

You sit up and push yourself off the table on shaky legs, holding onto his shoulders to ground yourself. You feel cum drip out of you, down your thigh, and feel a loss. What a waste. 

You don’t have time to dwell on it though. You look at the clock and realise too much time has passed, and if you don’t hurry you’re going to get an earful from your manager. Worse, Geto is going to take one look at the both of you and know what you’ve been up to. 

Gojo is methodical as he grabs a few tissues laid out on the table and starts wiping the cum from your thighs. He kneels down and tells you, “Turn around.” You are the most obedient after sex. 

You hear him lament, “God, I shouldn’t have let you convince me to cum inside. We need to go to the bathroom and pray no one is there. Suguru is going to end my life–” 

You feel too relaxed to even be affected by his blabbering. You happily pull your clothes back on and wave his concern off, “It’s fine, Satoru. You’ve come in me plenty of times before. Get dressed and then we can walk back separately. To avoid suspicion or whatever. Okay?” 

“Ok.” He pulls you in for a much sweeter kiss. “Don’t walk back looking too happy or else they’ll know–” 

You swat his chest, “Tell that to yourself. Don’t look too smug like you always do–” 

“I do not look smug ever–”

“You do, and I understand because having sex with me is an honour–” 

.

.

.

When you get back to your floor, Geto immediately greets you with judgement.

“What?” you say, self consciously. “I just went for some ice-cream.” 

He just sighs, defeated. “Yeah, you got some cream alright.” 

Gojo walks in a minute later, looking all serious as he makes his way to his desk. 

You don’t make eye contact, instead opening up an email chain that you’ve somehow been cc’d into– it doesn’t make any sense so you choose peace and move it to your junk folder. 

You also hear the tail end of a whispered conversation:

Fingers pressing the bridge of your nose, you do your best to stay somewhat pleasant.

"…What about it?"

"I'm at the store now," Satoru states the obvious. You can hear the diluted commotion of other shoppers around him, the sound of items being scanned and shopping carts being steered.

He may mean well, but you're failing to see the purpose of his call, "And you're calling me because…?"

"This is such a scary aisle," he says beneath his breath, but you hear him all the same.

You can practically see his pout of cluelessness as he stands before the aisle, hand on hip and sighs, "There's so many… things going on."

"I sent you a picture of the box, Satoru," your eyes instinctually roll back like muscle memory. A cramp hits you a bit harder than the rest and you wince, desperate for his help, "Please, I'll Venmo you."

You hear a muffled scoff from the other line, "No, that's not what I mean. Never say that again."

"Then what do you mean?"

Walking the line between being in over his head and weirdly intrigued, Satoru hums to himself.

"There's like… a million options."

Your hand flexes in on itself in irritation, nails leaving crescents on your palm when you bite, "It's really not that hard when I sent you a visual aid."

"All this shit is new to me," his voice gets muffled a bit and you can tell he's wedging the phone between his shoulder and ear.

You hear the sound of plastic being fondled when he innocently asks, "There's sizes? What size are you?"

"It's not a size thing, Satoru—"

He interrupts you, "It says there's different settings—”

"Settings?" You're going to kill him.

"Yeah," he responds too casually for the situation. "Regular, super, super plus. What the fuck is ultra?"

It's borderline comical, the way you look up to the ceiling in disbelief. If there's a god in heaven, he'll make it so Satoru hangs up the damn phone and gets his ass back in the car within the next minute.

"Like I said in the text," your tone is cold and irritated, "the regular ones are fine."

It's silent for a beat when Satoru whispers, "Are you sure?"

"What do you mean am I sure?" you try not to spit venom. "I've only been doing this for over ten years."

"I mean, I'm pretty big though, and—”

"This is so different, oh my god," you groan, head in hands. "Get the regular ones."

More rustling of plastic and shuffling ensues. "Okay, okay, getting the regular ones. Damn, they make you pay for these?"

"Yes, Satoru," you hiss through a clenched jaw. "Anything else or can I hang up on you now?"

You hear him moving, and you can only pray that it's towards the checkout area, when he breathes, "Actually, yeah.”

You should've known not to ask, as Satoru readjusts his grip on his phone and smoothly taunts, "Are you more likely to get pregnant on your period? Asking for a very interested friend."

The sound of the call ending is his cue to swipe his card.

…

Not long after and in the middle of his lunch break, Satoru arrives home.

He's all smiles when he knocks on the half-open bedroom door, and he sympathetically smirks when he's met with your icy glare and bedhead.

He presents the plastic bag of goodies with a dramatic bow, “M'lady."

"Thank you," grumbles from your lips as you practically snatch it from his hand.

Satoru sits on the edge of the bed next to your limp body, "Anything for you, sweet girl."

His hand finds your tender side as he rubs gentle and warm circles on your skin, a weak attempt to ease any pain of yours he can. He leans back on his palm as he watches you rustle through the bag.

"Got you some other stuff, too," he says, hand finding your hair and gently scratching your head.

It's sweet of him, really. Your usual box of tampons sits on top of the items, followed by a few of your favorite candies and one of those makeshift heating pads shaped like a stuffed animal. You already have about five of them, but it's the thought that counts.

Feeling yourself ease up at his good intentions, you go to thank him—but another package at the bottom of the bag has you glaring at him.

"Satoru…"

"Yeah, baby?"

"Condoms?" you hold out an unopened box of his favorite brand and toss them his way.

"Oh, yeah," he moves the hand in your hair down to your neck, stroking its side softly.

His breath is warm on your skin when he leans in to press a gentle kiss to the spot he knows you like beneath your ear. Though you huff at the insinuation, he doesn't miss how you shiver a bit beneath his lips.

"During my lengthy and extensive research, I read that sex can help cramps," he declares proudly, nudging your throat with the tip of his nose.

“Who were you keeping that detail from, hmm?"

sighing, you lift the hem of the shirt you’d stolen from him over your head to get changed, revealing bare skin that somehow manages to send more blood straight down to his dick. “we can't be late, samu.”

“just a quickie?” he pleads. “i’ll be fast–”

“last time you said that, i ended up pregnant with twins. do you want more children to feed?” when he opens his mouth, you hold a hand up to stop him. “actually– don’t answer that. just take care of yourself in the shower because we just changed the sheets.”

osamu grumpily does as you say, stepping into a cold shower and jerking himself pitifully to the memory of last night’s activities. the way you’d ridden him, the sound of your moans, the way you’d jerked against him whenever he’d tweaked your nipples or thumbed your clit.

by the time he gets out of the shower, you’re already changed into your work clothes, one child balanced on your hip as you make breakfast one-handed as the other twin plays around with cheerios in her high chair.

“don’t forget you’re doing pick-up today,” you tell him, grabbing his jaw to press a kiss to his cheek as you transfer the toddler into his arms. osamu drops a kiss onto her little nose, grinning when she giggles. “what do you want for dinner? i was going to run to the store after work.”

“i can just bring something home from the restaurant,” he suggests, eager to lighten your load (and gain a few brownie points in the process). “i was gonna make some extra for tsumu anyway.”

“oh, lucky us,” you coo to your other daughter, picking up a cheerio and pressing it into her hand. “daddy’s going treat us to his yummy food tonight! you like onigiri, baby?”

she just babbles a little cheer, which the twin in osamu’s arms mimics excitedly at the prospect of food. yup. definitely his kids.

(and he really wouldn’t mind making more)

—

his plan was simple, really, because one doesn’t have to be a genius to impress their wife. they just have to be a good husband.

and osamu likes to think that he is.

which is why he comes home with not just some food from the restaurant, but a nice bottle of wine, and a cute little potted plant for the kitchen windowsill as well.

yet when he proudly sets those things on the counter next to where you’re prepping tomorrow’s lunches, you only notice one thing.

“it seems you’ve forgotten something,” you tell him as he tosses his cap aside, shaking out his hair a little. he then simply wraps his arms around you, trailing slow kisses up the column of your neck.

“i don’t think so,” he breathes, hands already skimming down your waist and the curve of your hips. “got everything i need right here.”

“osamu…” you groan, but you’re pushing your hips back against him ever so slightly. “where are our children?”

he presses one last kiss to that little spot behind your ear. “they’re staying overnight with tsumu.”

your eyes fly open as you twist in his hold, the moment he’d been working towards shattering at his admission. “you left our children with atsumu?”

“ma was busy!”

“you couldn’t have asked kiyoomi? or even driven down to the countryside to shinsuke?”

“atsumu’s not that bad at babysitting!” he lies, simply holding you tighter as you try to escape his grasp.

“he always lets them stay up past their bedtime, and i’m pretty sure he can’t even tell them apart!” you argue, slapping at his shoulder.

“they’re identical twins, sometimes i can’t even tell them apart.”

“you can’t tell your own children apart?!”

osamu’s…really not doing himself any favours right now, so he loosens his hold to give you a little wiggle room, letting you return to your lunch prep and laughing when you huff at him. he’d tried to take it slow, tried to seduce you with wine and a cute little plant and some kisses, but sometimes…the direct approach is the best one.

especially when you’re like this, all huffy and doubting his brother’s childcare capabilities. “you better call atsumu and tell him you’re coming to pick up the girls. i bet he’s feeding them mochi for dinner right now–”

your voice wavers when he lets his hand skim lightly down your sides, fingertips digging into your hips as he pulls you close once more.

“honey, just relax. the girls will be fine for a night,” he assures you, sweeping your hair aside to press another kiss to the back of your neck. “we’ve got the house to ourselves tonight, so…”

osamu grins against your skin, slipping his free hand beneath the waistband of your shorts as pushing aside the lace of your underwear to rub slow, practiced circles over your clit. you fumble with the lid in your hands when he quickens his pace, groaning as you grip the edge of the counter.

“samu,” you gasp, leaning back against his chest. “wait, at least let me put away the food–”

“no,” he interrupts, momentarily dipping a finger into your wet slit to spread your slick. “i wanna eat somethin’ else.”

bento boxes are pushed to the side as osamu spins you around, yanking your shorts and dampened underwear down your legs before hoisting you up onto the counter. it’s instinct now, the way his hand cups the back of your head to pull you into a deep kiss, and the way your legs hook around his waist to force his body closer to yours. he lets you melt into him, parting your lips and letting him muffle any banter you’d had prepared.

his hands are quick to pry your thighs apart, pressing a final kiss to your lips before kneeling between your legs and immediately licking a long broad stripe up your center.

your thighs twitch around his head when the tip of his tongue meets your clit, osamu pulling back an inch when you stifle a moan with the back of your hand.

“hey, none of that. i wanna hear ya, sweetheart,” he murmurs, pulling a sharp gasp from your lips as he plunges two fingers into you. his mouth follows, wrapping around your clit and huffing a laugh when your body shakes in a full body shudder.

“oh, fuck,” you breathe, hands fisting tightly at the soft material of his t-shirt. the rough drive of his fingers mixing deliciously with the insistent sweeps of his tongue. “osamu–”

“hmm?” he hums, the vibrations making your toes curl. you whine when he pulls his fingers out, his lidded-gaze meeting yours as he brings his fingers to his mouth, licking them clean before hooking his hands under your thighs to pull you to the edge of the counter.

then he’s nudging his hips between your legs, pants already unzipped and underwear shoved down to press his thick length against you. he pushes into you in one go, your body putting up little resistance as a result of his earlier actions. he lets you cling to him as you adjust to the sudden stretch, snaking a hand between your bodies to press his thumb to your clit. your body jolts in response, osamu groaning loudly as your walls clench around him.

he feels your nails dig into his skin as he begins steadily rocking his hips into yours. his thrusts are rough, fast, a result of the tension that’d been building since you’d left him in such a pitiful state this morning. he crushes his lips against yours in a bruising kiss, swallowing your moans as his hips slam against yours with abandon.

it’s not long until you’re crying out, the pleasure that’d he knew had been coiling in your gut since he’d slid his hand down the front of your shorts crashing into you.

but your hand grips his hair, pulling him back in for more even as your body jerks with sensitivity, begging him for more.