to love and be loved.

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“Zaynie..”

You whined breathlessly, clawing at his chest. zayne, meanwhile, looked entirely too unbothered for a man whose cock was currently buried balls-deep inside you, casually signing away at the documents before him.

You had already waited for way too long. You were supposed to sit still and cockwarm him while he worked, but his dick kept twitching, stretching you out until you couldn't take it. 

Desperate, you indulged yourself just a little, rolling your hips slightly so as not to draw attention to your movements. But obviously, that was wishful thinking. His hands immediately clamped onto your hips, pinning you down firmly in place.

“I thought I told you to sit still,” he murmured, his eyes darting in your direction for a split second before returning to his endless paperwork. 

After what felt like forever, Zayne finally seemed to sign the last page. Your pussy couldn't help but flutter around him in eager anticipation ... only for him to pull yet another stack of documents from his drawer. 

Fuck it. You felt like you would die if you had to wait a single second longer. The moment his pressure slackened, you fisted his shirt, buried your face in his chest, and moved your hips to ride him.

Zayne hissed at the sudden shift, his hands flying back to your waist to halt your momentum. You persisted anyway, fighting his restraint to grind and clench around him, wanting to break his composure.

“Looks like you won't be good for me today.”

He flicked his pen onto the desk, letting it clatter carelessly against the wood. His hands travelled up your body; one wrapped firmly around your throat while the other tangled into the hair at the base of your head. He tugged firmly until you paused your needy raid on him, forcing you to tilt your head back to meet his gaze.

“I didn't think you were completely incapable of behaving yourself,” he mused, looking down at your fucked-out face with heavy lids. His grip on your throat tightened, applying just enough pressure until your vision started streaking with dots. 

Just as you felt your consciousness on the verge of slipping away, his fingers slackened, leaving you gasping, chest heaving for air.

“Come back to me now, darling,” he snapped his hips upward, letting his dick force you to sober up.

“zayne...I can't anymore. please.” Tears pricked your eyes from how intensely your cunt was throbbing, your slick pooling where you were connected and dripping down onto the leather chair.

“Please what?” His lips curved up faintly, clearly amused by how pathetically needy you were for him.

“Fuck me–! I’ve been so, so patient. Please.” You tried to squirm against his iron hold, craving even the slightest bit of friction.

“Alright then.” He took his glasses off, tossing them onto the desk before wrapping his hands around your waist again. Now using his leverage, he drew your hips up until the tip of his dick almost slipped out, and then slammed you right back down.

“Since you asked so nicely.”

taglist: @lanalemonn @hilliserose @myspi2010

Gojo Satoru didn’t believe in just one round during your birthday, no, he was a firm believer of making you have orgasms all day, sometimes not in the most appropriate places.

The day starts with his head in between your thighs, morning sun filtering through the curtains and casting a yellow glow over your boyfriend’s white hair. His long, slender fingers grip the skin of your thighs roughly as he dives into your sweet pussy, head rolling back as you moan and whimper above him.

The second time, it’s in the backseat of his car. You want to visit a garden centre on your birthday? Sure, as long as he can bounce you on his cock in a quiet area of the car park afterwards. You’re far too cock drunk to notice or even care if the car is rocking violently each time he slams you down onto his deliciously thick length.

The third time, two of his fingers are splitting you open in your friend’s bathroom. You should’ve known that Gojo would try this when you said your friends had invited you round for the afternoon with an open invitation for your boyfriend too.

“Satoru,” you begin breathlessly, legs involuntarily spreading wider. “Someone could hear.”

He presses open mouthed kisses along your neck, nipping at your skin playfully. “Then let them. Let them see how well you’re being treated on your special day.”

You can’t contain your moan as his fingers plunge deeper, reaching that sweet spot that made your legs shake. “You’ve already-mm-treated me twice.”

“Not enough for me, baby. I won’t let you sleep until I’ve given you at least six orgasms today.”

You barely register his words as your eyes roll back, familiar feeling building in your lower stomach as you thrust helplessly against his palm.

The fourth time happens on the couch, right after getting home and unable to even get a word out before Gojo is pushing you down, fingers already straying to your underwear. Somehow, you end up face down ass up, drooling over one of your favourite cushions as Satoru pounds into you again and again, causing the nastiest of moans to spill from your mouth.

frustration is an understatement, but it's how satoru gojo felt when you had shyly pulled away from a kiss for the umpteenth time.

of course, satoru loved you to the moon and back! you were his beautiful girl, but damn it were you shy. it was almost like a routine between the two of you. you'd get comfortable, then would be too nervous to press your lips against his without him initiating it. and if he was being honest, it hurt.

you acted like his touch burned most of the time. satoru would offer his hand for you to hold when passing large crowds and the most you would do was hold his pinky with yours.

so, being the amazing boyfriend he was, he was going to help you.

"just keep yours eyes on me, sweets." he coo'ed, carefully slipping in his cock inch by inch. "c'mon, we agreed on working on eye contact today." he reminded.

"I know.." you whimpered, slowly opening you eyes back again, staring into his deep blue ones. satoru's eyes flickered down at your entrance, clearly struggling in welcoming in his length. "you're doing so good." he leaned down to kiss your forehead. "just keep your eyes on me."

after a few minutes, he bottomed out. his hands were holding onto your waist, bringing you closer to him. "feels big.." you gasped when he slipped all the way out before pounding back in.

"that's cuz it is big, baby." he relished in the way tears formed at the corners of your eyes, nails scraping at his biceps. "you can take it though."

"sato!" you screamed, fluttering your eyes close. and satoru? he was absolutely eating this up. for the first time, you weren't afraid to be loud with your moans. “hey you’re being louder than usual. good!” he chirped. the bastard had the audacity to smile so sweetly down at you all while he was fucking you like he hated you.

satoru moved your legs to rest on his shoulders, allowing him to hit deeper. that’s when he saw it, the bulge on your tummy. "look at that.. give me your hand." he reached it, putting it down on your stomach. "you feel me? taking me so well, fuck, you're a good girl."

you saw through your tears how proud he was. bright smile looking down at you as if you just hung the stars.

satoru has never felt more proud of himself, deciding that pda was the next big step. the pinky holding turned into holding hands wether it be at the mall or a friend hang out. but of course, he couldn't help himself when he pulled away to drag your hand onto his growing bulge.

“i don’t think this is pda..” your voice was barely a whisper as your hand made its way to wrap itself around the base of his cock which was twitching like crazy, having its own pulse. 

“public display of affection.. jerking me off is in that category” he bit his bottom lip hard enough to draw blood, being careful as to not let any sound out. the last thing he wanted was to get caught by his friends sitting across from the two of you in a restaurant. “yes fuck..” gojo grumbled under his breath feeling your hand pick up the pace.

your eyes were set on the menu in front of you, trying to force yourself to focus on anything other than the pretty sight underneath the table.

“close.. so close..” gojo gripped the edge of his seat, cock twitching violently before shooting out his orgasm.  he discreetly handed a towel under the table for you, leaning in to kiss your temple. “you’ve gotten so brave, my love.” 

a soft smile appeared on your lips. "thank you babe." you returned the kiss, placing it on his flushed cheek.

bf!nanami is a man of physical habit, when you two are winding down on the couch after his long shift—his heavy, warm hand naturally finds a home on your thigh. the first time it happens, he’s just reading the paper, but he feels the immediate, rigid tension in your muscles.

he casually glances over, assuming you’re just caught off guard or feeling a bit shy. "are you cold?" he asks, his deep voice slicing through the quiet room. when you quickly shake your head, he simply pats your knee and shrugs it off, returning to his reading, though his observant mind notes the slight tremor in your frame.

bf!nanami who starts getting genuinely suspicious after the third or fourth time. it doesn't matter if his touch is a passive weight or a gentle, absentminded caress through your sweatpants—your breath hitches every single time. he notices the way your toes curl, the subtle shiver that runs up your spine, and the way you try to casually shift away from his reach.

nanami is nothing if not analytical; he knows compliance versus involuntary reaction, and you are definitely hiding something. he begins to purposely linger his touch, tracing the seam of your pants just to watch your eyelashes flutter and your lips part in a silent gasp.

bf!nanami decides to test his hypothesis on a rainy saturday afternoon. you're both cuddled up, your guard completely down as you watch a movie. without a word or a shift in his stoic expression, his large hand slides up your inner thigh and delivers a sudden, firm squeeze.

bf!nanami watches you gasp, a high, completely involuntary sound escaping your throat—a sharp, needy little squeak that cuts off the moment you realize what you've done. "oh? and what exactly was that noise for?" your hands fly to grip his wrist, trying to pull his hand away, but he doesn't let go.

instead, a slow, incredibly rare, and distinctly smug smirk pulls at the corner of his lips. he looks down at you through his glasses, thoroughly amused by your bright red face. "i don't recall the movie being quite that exciting," he drawls, his fingers sinking deeper into the soft flesh.

Your boyfriend Choso sits rigid in the back row of the dim lecture hall, legs spread just enough under the narrow desk to give you room. The professor drones on about some obscure theory at the front, voice echoing off the high ceiling, while the rest of the class scribbles notes or scrolls on their laptops. No one notices the slight tremble in Choso’s shoulders or the way his knuckles have gone white around the edge of his notebook.

You’re tucked between his thighs, knees on the cold floor, hidden completely by the desk’s overhang. His jeans are open, zipper down, and that pretty cock of his is already out, thick and flushed, resting heavy against his thigh before you wrapped your lips around the head. It twitches the second your tongue swirls over the sensitive slit, tasting the salty bead of precum that keeps leaking for you.

Choso’s head is bowed low, dark hair falling forward to curtain his face as he pretends to focus on the lecture. A tiny, choked sound slips from his throat when you suck him deeper, hollowing your cheeks and taking him halfway down in one slow glide. His cock fills your mouth so nicely, hot and velvety, the vein along the underside pulsing against your tongue.

“Fuck… baby,” he whispers, barely audible, voice strained. He shifts in his seat, thighs tensing around your shoulders. “Not here… they’ll hear…”

You pull off just enough to whisper back, lips brushing the wet tip. “Then be quiet, Choso. You don’t want the whole class knowing how much you love your girlfriend sucking your cock under the desk, do you?” You lick a long stripe up the shaft, then swallow him down again, bobbing your head with wet, filthy sounds that only he can hear.

He bites his lip hard, a muffled whimper vibrating through his chest. One hand drops beneath the desk, fingers threading into your hair, not pushing, just holding on like you’re the only thing keeping him grounded. “Shit… your mouth feels too good,” he breathes, hips twitching forward despite himself. “I’m gonna… ah—gonna moan if you keep doing that…”

You hum around him, the vibration making his cock jump. You suck harder, tongue pressing flat against the underside, working him with slow, deliberate strokes while your hand pumps the base he can’t fit. Choso’s breathing turns ragged, little broken gasps escaping no matter how hard he tries to swallow them. Every time the professor pauses, he freezes, terrified someone will notice the way his leg is shaking.

After a few minutes of torturing him like that, you pull off with a soft pop, strings of spit connecting your lips to his glistening cock. From your bag you fish the thin, smooth sounding rod you’d slipped in earlier, metal cool and slick with lube. Choso’s eyes widen when he sees it, pupils blown.

“W-wait… what are you—”

“Shh,” you coo, pressing the rounded tip against his already leaking slit. “Open up for me, pretty boy. You’re going to hold every drop of that cum inside until I say so.”

He exhales shakily as you ease the rod in, slow and careful, stretching his sensitive urethra just enough to make his thighs quiver. The sight of it disappearing into his cock is obscene, his reddened tip widening slightly around the metal. Choso lets out a strangled moan, quickly turning it into a cough when the girl two rows ahead glances back.

You stroke his shaft gently while the rod sits nestled inside, plugging him completely. “Good boy,” you murmur against his thigh, kissing the tense muscle. “Keep it all in. No cumming until the room’s empty.”

Choso’s head drops lower, forehead nearly resting on the desk as he fights the overwhelming pressure. His cock is throbbing visibly now, veins standing out, the plugged slit flushed dark and puffy. Every tiny shift of the rod makes him bite back another whimper. “It’s too much… feels so weird… so full,” he whispers, voice cracking. “Baby, please… I need to cum so bad…”

“Not yet,” you tease, licking lazily at the stretched skin around the base of the rod. “You’re going to sit here like a good little slut, cock plugged and leaking, while everyone else packs up. Think you can do that without moaning my name?”

He nods frantically, teeth sunk into his lower lip. The lecture finally ends. Chairs scrape, voices rise as students file out. Choso stays glued to his seat, pretending to organize his notes with trembling hands. The professor walks over, stopping right in front of the desk.

“Choso? You okay back there? You look a little pale.”

Choso lifts his head, face flushed, eyes glassy. “Y-yeah… just a headache,” he manages, voice rough. “I’ll… I’ll just take a minute to pack my stuff. Be out soon.”

The professor nods sympathetically and leaves, the door clicking shut behind the last few stragglers. The hall falls silent except for the distant hum of the air conditioning.

The second the lock catches, you don’t waste a single second.

You yank the sounding rod out in one smooth pull. Choso’s eyes roll back, a raw, broken cry tearing from his throat as the pressure releases all at once. His cock erupts instantly, thick ropes of cum shooting from his widened, reddened slit in powerful, messy spurts. It paints your tongue, your chin, drips down his shaft and over your fingers as you stroke him through it, milking every last drop.

“Fuuuck—oh my god,” he sobs, hips bucking wildly into your fist. “It’s too much… cumming so hard… baby, your mouth—shit—”

You wrap your lips around the sensitive head again, sucking gently on the puffy, stretched slit while he keeps pulsing, more cum flooding your mouth in weaker waves. His thighs shake violently around your head, soft desperate whimpers spilling out nonstop now that he doesn’t have to hold back.

When the last tremor fades, Choso slumps back in the chair, chest heaving, cock still twitching in the cool air, slit glistening and slightly gaping from the rod. You lick him clean with slow, thorough strokes of your tongue, savoring the taste of him, then tuck him back into his jeans with a soft kiss to the damp fabric.

You crawl out from under the desk, lips shiny, and climb into his lap, pressing a filthy kiss to his slack mouth.

“Such a good boy for me,” you whisper against his lips, tasting salt and desperation. “Next lecture… maybe I’ll plug you again and make you sit through the whole thing with my cum dripping down your thighs.”

Choso just groans, arms wrapping around you tight, already half-hard once more at the thought.

-`♡´-MAIN MASTERLIST-`♡´--`♡´-CHOSO'S M-LIST-`♡´-

Your boyfriend Choso is sprawled on his narrow dorm bed, sheets already twisted beneath his back, sweat glistening on his pale skin. The room is dim, only the desk lamp casting a soft glow over his messy hair and those dark amber eyes that keep fluttering half-shut every time you shift. His roommate’s out for the night, but the thin walls mean voices carry, and Choso knows it. He’s biting his lip so hard it’s turning white, trying so damn hard to stay quiet like a good boy.

You’re straddling him, thighs spread wide over his hips, your slick cunt already stretched around the thick head of his cock. He’s so hard it aches, fat and heavy, pulsing inside you as you sink down another inch. A broken little whimper slips from his throat before he can swallow it.

“Shh,” you whisper, voice low and sweet and so fucking mean. You roll your hips slow, letting him feel every ridge as you take him deeper. “Be quiet, baby. Your friends are right next door. You don’t want them to hear how loud you get when I fuck you, do you?”

Choso’s hands fly to your waist, fingers digging in like he’s drowning. “F-fuck… I’m trying,” he gasps, voice cracking. His cock twitches hard inside you, leaking more precum into your dripping heat. “You feel too good… can’t… ah—”

You cut him off by lifting yourself up until just the tip is kissing your entrance, then dropping back down in one smooth glide. The wet sound of your pussy swallowing him is obscene in the quiet room. Choso’s head snaps back against the pillow, a strangled moan tearing out of him before he slaps a hand over his own mouth.

“See?” you tease, grinding down deep, clit rubbing against his pelvis. You lean forward just enough to let your tits brush his chest, nipples hard and dragging over his skin. “That’s what happens when you’re loud. They’ll know exactly what a needy little slut you are for your girlfriend’s cunt.”

He whines behind his palm, hips jerking up involuntarily. “Please… don’t stop,” he mumbles, words muffled. His eyes are glassy, cheeks flushed dark. “I need it… need you riding me harder.”

You smile, all sugar and cruelty, and start bouncing properly now. Up and down, slow at first, then faster, the slap of skin on skin growing louder no matter how much he tries to hold back. Every time you sink down, his fat cock splits you open so perfectly, dragging against that spot that makes your toes curl. Choso’s breathing is ragged, little punched-out sounds escaping with every thrust.

“Quiet,” you remind him again, voice dripping honey as you clench around him on purpose. “Or I’ll have to stop and leave you like this, all hard and dripping and desperate.”

“No—no, please,” he begs, voice breaking into a whimper. His fingers bruise your hips, trying to pull you down harder. “I’ll be good, I swear… just don’t stop fucking me.”

You ride him like that for a while, mean little laughs slipping out when he fails miserably at staying silent. His moans keep spilling out, deep and wrecked, turning into these pretty, desperate noises that make your pussy flutter around him. Then, just when he’s starting to lose it, you lift off completely. His cock slaps wetly against his stomach, shiny with your juices, throbbing angrily in the cool air.

Choso lets out a devastated sound, eyes flying open. “Wait—baby, what are you—”

You swing your leg over and turn around, settling into reverse cowgirl. The view is perfect for him now. You reach back, spread your ass a little with one hand, and let him watch as you line his fat cock up with your dripping hole. Slowly, so slowly, you sink down, letting every inch disappear inside you while he stares.

“Oh my god,” Choso groans, long and filthy. His hands immediately grab your hips again, thumbs pressing into the dimples at the small of your back. “Look at that… your pretty cunt taking me so deep. Fuck, I can see everything.”

You lean forward, arching your back like a lazy kitten, ass up and chest pressed to his thighs. The new angle has his cock hitting even deeper, bullying right against your cervix with every tiny shift. “Then fuck me, Choso,” you purr, voice teasing. “Show me how bad you want it. Make me feel it.”

He snaps.

His grip tightens and he starts thrusting up into you, hard and fast, the bed creaking under the force. The wet slap of his hips meeting your ass fills the room now, no holding back. Every stroke is deep, punishing, his balls smacking against your clit. You can feel him losing control completely, hips stuttering, cock swelling even thicker inside you.

“Shit—shit, you’re so tight,” he pants, voice raw. “Taking my cock like such a good girl… fuck, I’m gonna—ah—gonna cum if you keep squeezing me like that.”

You moan softly, pushing back to meet his thrusts, letting him fuck up into you like an animal. “Then cum, baby. Fill me up. But don’t you dare get loud. Your friends might hear what a mess you make when you’re buried in my pussy.”

Choso’s rhythm falters, a broken cry ripping from his throat despite your warning. “Can’t… can’t help it,” he sobs, pounding harder. “You’re too much… too wet, too perfect… fuck, I love you, I love your cunt so much—”

He’s gone now, hips snapping up wildly, chasing that edge. You clench around him on purpose, milking him, and that’s all it takes. Choso buries himself to the hilt with one last desperate thrust, his cock pulsing as he spills hot and thick inside you. Rope after rope, flooding your pussy while he whimpers and moans your name like a prayer, trying and failing so miserably to stay quiet.

You ride out the last of his orgasm, grinding back slow, feeling him twitch and leak inside you. When he finally collapses back against the sheets, chest heaving, you glance over your shoulder with a wicked little smile.

“See what happens when you can’t behave?” you murmur, voice soft and teasing. “Next time I might have to gag you… or maybe I’ll just let your friends listen to how pretty you sound when you fall apart for me.”

Choso just whines, pulling you down against him, still buried deep, already half-hard, like the needy boy he is, pressing soft loving kisses along your neck getting oh so desperate for you all over again.

-`♡´- MAIN MASTERLIST -`♡´- -`♡´-CHOSO'S M-LIST-`♡´-

✮⋆˙. (▀▀̮▀) The strongest teaches you how to squirt . . .

You wanted to learn how to squirt.

Like, you really wanted to learn.

Being all over Twitter didn't help you either, as there's always somebody asking, oh, “ how do you squirt?” Or, “guys, I just learned how to squirt for the first time and I've never felt so much better.” And you just can't help but get FOMO.

Okay yeah sure, every time Gojo fucks you really good, it feels amazing, but something's missing.

He's already done everything in the book with you, with a few concepts here and there untouched, but you always end up satisfied, so you never dwelled on it.

You just really, really wanted to try feeling something new.

You already tried to do it yourself countless times, but your fingers could never reach the spots that he does, especially since his are significantly longer than yours.

So when he's currently fucking you and training your pussy to be more sensitive, it seems you finally get the hang of it.

“Mngh— fuck toru that…feels s’good..”

Gojo's long fingers curl deep inside your soaked pussy, his thumb pressing and pushing hard against your swollen clit with constant pressure.

He watched your face intently, bright blue eyes focusing on your pretty face as your walls flutter around his digits.

"Thaaat's it, baby," he murmurs, voice low and rough against your ear.

"You said you wanted to learn, yeah?"

His pace kept quickening as both fingers pumped into you steady, scissoring slightly on each thrust to stretch you open while his palm slaps wetly against your mound.

Your hips buck up off the bed, chasing the overwhelming sensation slowly building low in your belly.

Every stroke drags against that sensitive spot inside you, sending heatwaves through your body.

Gojo moves down, sucking one of your nipples right into his mouth. He bites down just hard enough to make you whine out, before soothing the sting with his tongue.

His free hand pins your thigh wider, keeping you spread for him as he works through your pussy harder.

Your breath comes out in short gasps when the pressure inside you grows almost unbearable, feeling like a tight coil getting tighter and tighter before releasing itself.

Your pussy clenches eagerly around his fingers as finally, a sudden rush of clear liquid sprays out all around them, soaking his hand and his wrist, along with the sheets beneath you in a hot, messy gush.

Gojo smiles and groans at the sight, fingering you through it with quick movements, so that the squirt keeps coming in short bursts.

"Fuuck, look at that," he growls, eyes locked on the way your cunt pulses and sprays. "So pretty when you let loose like that."

Your thighs tremble, clit becoming achingly sensitive.

You gripped the sheets and looked down at the mess, “hah…oh my god…what a mess..”

Another wave hits as he keeps rubbing your clit in tight circles, drawing out every last tremor and whine until you're left twitching, the new bedsheets already soiled under you.

He finally slows his hand down, but doesn't pull out, carefully stroking your inner walls as the aftershocks roll through you.

"Atta girl," he praises, voice coated with satisfaction.

"Knew you had it in you."

— ft nanami x black fem!reader

Syn. You underestimate two things: your fever, and how quickly Nanami will drop everything for you.

Cw .ᐟ : Husband!Nanami, fluff, sick fic WC : 1.1 k

© Art creds : @dickerystuf

If you hold back one more cough, you might actually explode. 

It’s day three of pretending you aren’t sick because the second Nanami finds out, he’ll abandon work entirely and hover over you like a mother hen.

You know how important his job is to him. Even after exhausting shifts and bruises hidden beneath dress shirts, he still insists on working so hard to give you the best life possible. 

Usually, you can handle a slight fever on your own, but today feels different.

You wake up drenched in sweat despite feeling a violent chill throughout your body. Bonnet half way across the room, and head throbbing where it rests against the pillow. 

The short walk to the bathroom nearly kills you. And by the time you stumble back into bed your body gives out against the mattress, trembling from the effort.

You curl beneath the blankets, dizzy and exhausted, using the last of your strength to order chicken soup and tea from a nearby restaurant.

You try to stay awake until it arrives but your eyelids are heavy and eventually you succumb to sleep.

—

The vibration of your phone buzzing against your cheek jolts you awake sometime later. 

Oh shit. The food.

You try sitting up too fast and immediately regret it.  Every muscle in your body aches. There’s absolutely no way you’re making it to the front door. Groaning, you scroll through your contacts before pressing the only person nearby enough to help. 

The call rings twice.

“Heyy, how’s my favorite nanami,” Satoru’s sing-song voice answers cheerfully. “Have you finally come to your senses and realized im the better sorceror?” 

Your short laugh is cut off by a cough so hard it rattles your chest. 

He pauses.

“…Why do you sound like that?”

“Please tell me you’re on lunch break already,” you mumble weakly. “I ordered food but I’m too sick to go to the door, can you stop by the apartment to bring it inside for me? Pleaseee? I’ll owe you.”

Across the office, Nanami looks up from the paperwork in front of him the second he hears your voice through Gojo’s speaker.

His expression changes immediately.

Gojo notices too.

“…Wait,” Gojo says slowly, glancing over. “You’re sick?”

You squeeze your eyes shut. “Don’t tell Nanami.”

Nanami stands before Gojo can even respond.

“Give me the phone.”

Your stomach drops at the sound of his voice.

“…Kento?”

“You’re sick.”

It isn’t a question.

“I was going to tell you later—”

“You can barely get a word out without wheezing”

“Baby, I’m fine.”

“Yet you called Gojo instead of me.”

The disappointment in his voice somehow feels worse than anger.

You hear rustling, then keys.

“I’m coming home.”

“Ken—”

The line disconnects.

—

Exactly twenty minutes later you hear the front door unlock. 

Nanami walks in carrying multiple bags you definitely didn’t order. Besides your tea and soup he carries a plastic bag filled with medicine, electrolyte drinks, and basically enough supplies to survive a mini apocalypse. You’d roll your eyes at his antics if it wasn’t hard enough keeping them open. 

His tie is gone. Sleeves rolled to his elbows. Hair slightly disheveled like he ran straight from work.

The second he sees you trying to sit up, his face tightens.

“Don’t you dare get up.”

You still try anyway.

He’s at your bedside instantly, one hand against your forehead, the other steadying your shoulder as he gently pushes you back into the pillows.

“You’re burning up,” he mutters, brows pinching together. “How long has this been going on?”

“…Three days.”

Nanami goes completely still.

“Three,” he repeats flatly.

You wince under the weight of his stare.

The exhaustion in his face twists into shame.

“Fuck. What kind of husband am I if I don't even notice you’re sick?”

“It’s not your fault.”

“Why’d you hide it from me?”

“Because you would’ve called out of work.”

“I would have.”

There’s no hesitation in his answer.

That’s what gets you. He’s not even frustrated.Just genuinely hurt that you were suffering alone while he sat completely unaware.

His expression softens slightly when he notices yours crumpling.

He sighs quietly, sweeping your braids behind you. “What am I supposed to do with you?”

Despite the scolding tone, he carefully opens the soup container, testing the temperature before handing it to you.

When your shaking hands struggle to hold it steadily, Nanami simply takes the spoon back with another quiet sigh.

“Cmere, open your mouth.”

You shoot him a weak glare but obey anyway, letting him feed you spoonful after spoonful while he watches carefully to make sure you eat enough.

The warmth of the soup settles heavily in your stomach, exhaustion pulling at you all over again.

Nanami notices immediately.

Without a word, he sets the container aside before piling blankets around you. 

He leans down then, pressing a lingering kiss against your feverish forehead.

“You should’ve called me first,” he says quietly against your skin.

Guilt twists in your chest. “I didn’t want you worrying.”

“That was never your decision to make. You’re my wife. I love you and i’ll always worry about you.

“Mm sorry Ken, I love you too, I just didn’t want to be a burden.”

The words come out slurred with exhaustion, barely above a whisper.

Nanami’s expression softens immediately.

“A burden?” he pulls away slightly, like the thought itself burns him.

His hand slides up to cradle the side of your face, thumb brushing beneath your eye with careful affection.

“You being sick is not an inconvenience to me.”

You blink tiredly up at him while he adjusts the blankets tighter around your shoulders, making sure not even a sliver of cold air gets through.

“I take care of you because I want to,” he continues. “Not because I have to.”

The fever leaves you too drained to hide how much the words affect you. Your eyes sting slightly as you lean further into his touch.

Nanami notices, of course he does.

“Baby,” he coos softly, brushing his lips against your forehead once more. “Don’t cry now.”

“I’m not,” you mumble weakly, voice wobbling. 

A rare hint of amusement flickers across his face.

“You’re a terrible liar, love.”

Before you can argue, he slips into bed beside you fully clothed, ignoring your weak protest about getting him sick. He simply pulls you carefully against his chest, tucking your head under his chin as one arm wraps securely around your waist.

“Next time you feel like this, I’m your first call. Understand?”

You hesiate. “…Even if you’re working?”

“Especially if I’m working.”

You let out a tired hum of agreement, curling closer into his chest.

"Ya know... Fatherhood really suits you, you know that?" You murmured, resting your head against his arm.

Nanami looked down at you, his eyes- always so tired from the cruelties of the world and working far too much, were now soft with affection, "I never thought I would have a life like this... I always felt it was far out of my reach..."

"Kento..."

He brought his daughter up to his face, his lips pressing a kiss to her forehead. His voice was a low whisper, yet you still managed to hear his words, "I love you. Both of you. More than anything in the world."

You could see it, not only in his smile, but his eyes as well... they held some fear. Afraid of the life he led, afraid of it coming to take the family he had so lovingly built away from him. Nanami had seen much in his time as a sorcerer. The loss of people dear to him- their deaths never failing to haunt him... He was scared... Scared of leaving you both behind, scared of the what-ifs...

"Kento, you worry far too much. I promise we'll be here, right by your side. Always and forever, okay? You're always going to awaken to me in your strong arms." You give his bicep a soft squeeze, "no way anyone could get past these bad boys."

A low chuckle rumbled in his throat, holding his baby girl in one arm, he used the one you squeezed to bring you into a loving embrace, drawing you even closer to his body. Drawing you closer into his world, a world he once thought would be forever in solitude. This was all a simple moment, but Nanami felt the full weight of this newfound joy- the joy of being a father and a loving husband to you. No could've prepared him for this profound privilege.

taking satoru's dick for the first time in theory and in practice are two very different extremes. sure you'd felt him from grinding, from holding the weight of him in your palm under the sheets while you two were supposed to be 'watching a movie'. it felt doable for the most part—taking him.

you've heeded all his thinly veiled warnings long enough and tonight of all nights wasn't one where you two could exactly stop at just heavy petting. you'd even laughed at it beforehand, assured him that you could take him for the millionth time.

if you could slap your past self, you would. because now you're barely 2 minutes into him being inside of you. back spread on soft sheets, practically folded in half under satoru. legs slung over his shoulders, panting, practically vibrating from the effort of trying to get used to the sheer size of him.

"fuck—you gotta stop—" his fingers press harder into the undersides of your thighs where he has you held, hips rocking incrementally to get you adjusted to what he's given already. not even halfway in and you're already all noisy. "breathe for me, pretty? so I can give you the rest."

“t-the rest? ” you gasp, voice going embarrassingly high. it feels like he's been pushing in for ages now and now he's telling you that there's more? “that’s not all of it? are you sure?"

"i'm sure, trust me. just a little more." a bit more than a little, but you'd cross that bridge eventually. he presses a kiss to your knee—soft, lingering like he’s trying to ground both you and himself. "you said you could take it."

"i say a lot of things when I'm horny. you know—oh fuck—that!" you snap, voice breaking on the last word. "you're too big. this is all your fault, satoru."

"my fault?" he manages a huff despite the strain in his voice, brows knitted like he's the one struggling here. to be fair, he sort of is. "you said, and I quote—" his hips ease forward by an infinitesimal amount, just enough to have the bulb of him swabbing against your soft insides. it's enough for your jaw to go slack, toes curling near his ears. "—'please just fuck me already'. and to 'stop treating you like glass'." so here he is, not treating you like glass. not holding out on you. large hands press your thighs and knees closer to your chest, his body angled downward to drive into you with short, gentle thrusts.

"I don't even sound like that." you're clawing blindly at the bedding, airy sounds punching out of you like he's owed them.

"mhm. just breathe." he murmurs, voice rumbling low against your skin as he nudges deeper with the next roll of his hips—a slow, steady push, feeding you yet another inch. one hand leaves your thighs to slide up to your stomach, pressing in like he's trying to feel for himself there. "yeah...that's it, let me in.." the same hand settles just above where you're taking him to thumb at your arousal slick clit, your own darting to out the grab at his wrist. to no avail of course, since his thumb just keeps on moving in circle after circle.

“tell me if you need me to stop, yeah?” he whispers, hips tilting just a little deeper. new slick from his teasing helps, sliding deeper with ease. “that's right...all the way. you're doing so well."

it's soft, so sweet and encouraging that you're reaching a hand out to bring him closer to you by the back of his neck. "m'good, 'toru. you're fine."

you can't help but wonder how much more he has left to give, what kind of monstrous beast he's been hiding under his briefs. curiosity gets the better of you, eyes dropping to where you've yet to fully connect.

and boy, do you regret it almost instantly.

it's near obscene. inches of him glistening and buried, folds parted against his girth. even with how long he's been easing in (or how long it feels at least), there's still a gap. his gaze follows yours, nosing gently at your ankle, hand squeezing your thigh. "you okay?"

the glisten of his flesh, the taut flex of his abdomen like he's holding back...no, you're not okay in the slightest.

you can feel your core flutter involuntarily at the sight and god, he feels it too.

“oh fuck,” satoru's voice breaks, forehead tipping down to rest against your forehead. “baby, please don’t do that. i'll...this really won't last long.”

"oops, sorry. sorry."

the bits of soft pink that aren't inside inch in-in-in with every second that passing. it's barely anything left to give, yet, he's being so careful. too careful."

"holy fuck, just do—shit!"

you're arching clean off the bed with the way he suddenly, finally hilts himself inside. bare behind flush to his hips, groomed hairs at his base grazing against your skin.

he’s silent for a moment, breathing slow, forehead still dampened and pressed down against yours. "..okay, I have bad news."

you're a little drunk on him, just lucid enough to manage a small hm, nails scraping through the damp hair at his nape.

"there's...there's a high chance that I'll cum if I move."

even in your state, laughter breaks out of you, the heavy man above you flushing a soft pink from the highs of his cheeks up to his ears. murmuring something about it 'not being that funny' and him 'embarrassing himself here'.

"stay still then." you finally breathe when your laughter dies down just enough, smile all gentle up at him, lips brushing against the sharp point of his nose. "we'll just stay like this all night." the pain had properly eased into a dull, barely there ache at that point—more pleasure than any other feeling. with how he'd taken his time, it'd been almost inevitable.

"can't just not move," he replies through gritted teeth, hips shifting just a hair. enough for you both to feel the heavy drag, the way your walls clench instinctively. "god—I can't not move when you feel like that."

it's endearing in a way, very much flattering. your grin only widens, head lifting to angle your mouth against his with a firm kiss. "i'm close too if that makes you feel any better."

words meant to help only make him whine, throbbing inside you, hips beginning to rock slowly. "you are?"

"mhmm. very close." you let out a strangled sound when his hips angle just right and it's enough for him to give up on pacing himself. his weight crushes your thighs against your chest, pace building. "so just keep moving. please."

the sounds leaving you are a mix of 'ahh's' and calls of his name, all broken, all sending his hips into you a little faster. they stutter as he fucks into you with less and less finesse, 0 rhyme or rhythm just the need to see you cum for him like this. hips slapping against the back of your thighs, paced breaths dually filling the room. "you feel so good. taking me so well." and when his thumb finds your clit again with those same, easy circles? you're a goner. "gonna cum--gonna- oh my god, keep doing that—" he finds that spot from before over and over again like there's a target stuck to it, leaky tip wedging itself right where you need it, pleasure mounting far too quickly. you're crying out at this point, hips angling up into his thrusts. so full it hurts in that perfect, dizzying way.

“fuck, you're gonna make me—”

“shut up and cum,” you choke out. “do it inside. pleaseplease—”

his entire body jolts, pace faltering. you feel him twitch deep inside you before it hits, his hips driving in and out hard—once, twice, and then he’s moaning into your mouth as he spills. he drags you down with him, pressure in your abdomen bursting, unfurling outwards with your release—his name still falling from your lips. helpless sounds that only spur the continued movement of his hips to draw out the pleasure.

you're both shaking, sucking in breaths of air greedily for moments after that. you're still folded like a pretzel, still crushed against his weight. "...that one doesn't count."

"agreed."

choso walks out of the bedroom, rubbing his eyes and blinking away any sleepiness. it's late morning, and he can hear the sounds of sizzles and cracks in the kitchen.

he walks in and immediately takes notice of your appearace. messy hair and tired eyes, dressed in his shirt with nipples poking the fabric.

his breath hitches and he stands there watching you move around in the kitchen. you look so pretty, so arousing.

he walk up to you from behind, wrapping his arms around your waist. he presses his hips against your ass, whimpering softly.

"feel that?" he whispers against your ear. it didn't take long for him to grow hard once he saw you in the kitchen.

he shirt barely covered your thighs, as soon as you bend down he would be able to see everything. the thought drives him crazy and his hands inch closer to the hem.

"we just woke up, cho." you say, not bothering to stop him from touching you. he doesn't answer, rubbing his bugle against your plush.

his hands move under your shirt, going up to your sweet cunt. his hands brush your thighs and then he stops.

what he didn't know, was that you weren't wearing any panties. now, he can feel your pretty pussy. he slides a finger in without hesitation and you squeeze your eyes shut.

"cho, im trying to cook." yet, you still don't move to stop him.

"please? it'll be quick."

you roll your eyes and sigh. he takes that as a yes and slides another finger into your pussy. he feels you melt back against him as he fingers your wet hole. you moan softly, holding onto the counter.

"fuck, baby, doing so good." you whimper. your head is thrown back against his shoulder and he kisses your cheek.

he works his fingers faster, his other hand finding your clit. the sensation is so delicious, you whine. you hear him chuckle as he fingers you.

he pulls away, making you whine at the loss of touch. you're about to turn around to scold him, but he pushes you against the counter.

he rubs his bulge on your ass before pulling his boxers off and letting himself spring out. his tips is red, leaking all over. he pumps himself, spreading the precum on his tip.

he lifts your shirt, lining himself up with your hole.

"so gorgeous." he whispers softly, pushing his way through your soaked hole.

"mm—cho fuck!" you mewl out, cheek pressed against the cool countertop. he pushes deeper till his hips meet your ass.

"big, cho, so big." you mumble, already forgetting how to come up with a single thought.

he rests his hands on your hips and starts to roll his hips against yours. it feels good. his tip kisses your walls softly, making love to your insides. you whine, squeezing your eyes closed.

"that's it, baby." he whispers, starting to thrust slowly. it feels ecstatic.

you cry out softly when his index finger rubs your clit. he rubs soft circles on the sweet bud, making you shutter and whine. "cho! more—ngh—please!"

he takes your plea and thrusts faster, holding your hips with one hand and playing with your clit with the other. it feels overwhelming. his size is huge, not fitting the first time you both made love.

you still haven't gotten used to the size of him. all you need is his hot tip and he'll somehow send you off.

his hips catch a steady pace. its fast and agressive, causing you to clench around him.

"fuck, pretty!" he whimpers, fucking you faster and faster with each thrust. your mouth drops open, spit pooling at the corner of your mouth.

"cho—ahh—ngh good, cho!" he takes your praise and fucks you harder. his finger works faster circles on your clit, flicking and rubbing you to oblivion.

he feels you clench around him tightly, squirming and whining. "close! faster—mmph—faster c-cho!"

his hips drill into yours, finger working on your bud and then he feels you clench. you squeeze him so tightly, he cums with you. he whines, crying out how good you feel.

you stay pressed to the counter, while he stays buried inside. you both pant, pussy pulsing around his cock. he pulls out slowly, making you moan at the sensitivity.

it goes quiet in the kitchen, the only sounds are your breathing. he pulls you back up, twirling you around and kissing your forehead.

"what were you making for breakfast?"

it starts off as a coping mechanism after a long hard day. choso will pull your shirt down and suck on your nipple, softly, squeezing the other gently.

somehow over the months, it turns into an obsession. now, even after a good day, choso thinks he deserves to reward himself. his lips attach to your nipple, sucking and licking, rutting his bulge against your cunt.

if you're home all day with him, there's no point in putting on a bra, let alone a shirt. it will be stripped off you instantly. his lips will be attached to your chest in record time.

he loves sucking on them when he fucks you too. he pounds into you while licking your nipples, marking every single bare spot of skin. he thinks you look pretty like that. and when they all start to fade away, he fucks you again so he can mark them.

your tits will always be covered in his spit. he loves the way his spit shines when it catches a shimmer of light. he spits on your nipples before taking them into his mouth, admiring the wetness of him on your pretty buds.

he sucks your nipples while going to bed. you'll cradle his head in your chest while he sucks on your nipples like a baby with a pacifier. you've gotten used to feeling him falling asleep with your nipple in his mouth. his drool with slide on your skin as he sleeps with you in his mouth.

the bedroom is thick with heat and the low sounds of breath and skin. choso’s already flushed and trembling underneath you, wrists loosely pinned by your hands at first before you let them go, trusting him even as you slide the blindfold over his eyes. soft black fabric, snug enough to steal every bit of sight. his head tips back against the pillows for a second, lips parted, chest rising fast.

you sink down onto him slowly, taking every thick inch until your hips meet his. he’s so sensitive already, cock twitching hard inside you from the overstimulation of the last round.

a broken little groan slips out of him the second you’re fully seated, deep and raw.

“wait— fuck, baby—” his voice cracks as you start to move, rolling your hips in steady, unrelenting circles. the blindfold makes everything sharper for him. every drag of your walls, every shift of weight, every wet sound of you riding him hits harder. his hands fly up instinctively, palms pressing against your thighs like he needs to push you off, fingers digging in but not quite shoving.

you keep riding him anyway, thighs burning as you lift and drop, grinding down deep on every stroke. choso’s head bows forward intensely, shoulders curling in like his whole body is trying to fold around the overwhelming pleasure. the blindfold shifts slightly with the motion, damp from sweat already. his jaw goes completely slack, mouth hanging open, tongue just barely visible as heavy pants turn into whimpers.

“too much— i can’t— please—” he gasps, voice hoarse, but his hips buck up to meet you anyway, betraying him. one hand pushes weakly at your waist, trying to create space, trying to breathe, while the other fists the sheets so tight his knuckles pale.

you don’t stop. you lean forward, bracing your hands on his chest, feeling his heart hammering under your palm, and ride him faster, tighter, letting your clit drag against his pelvis with every roll.

choso’s whole body jerks. a strangled moan rips out of him, jaw still slack, drool slipping from the corner of his mouth as his head lolls forward even more. he’s bowing toward you now, forehead almost touching your chest, blindfolded face twisted in that perfect mix of too much and not enough. his abs clench hard under you, thighs shaking uncontrollably beneath your ass.

you keep grinding down, clenching around him on purpose, milking every oversensitive inch. his pushes get weaker, more like desperate grabs, fingers sliding over your skin, gripping then releasing like he can’t decide if he wants you closer or off him. “gonna— fuck, i’m gonna cum again— baby, slow down, i—”

but you don’t.

you ride him through it, watching the way his slack jaw trembles, the way his blindfolded eyes squeeze shut tighter under the fabric, tears soaking the edge. his cock pulses hot and thick inside you, another load spilling deep as his body convulses, hips stuttering up helplessly.

he bows forward so intensely his face buries between your breasts, muffled sobs and whimpers vibrating against your skin while you keep moving, slow and deep now, dragging out every last twitch and aftershock.

his hands are still on you, pushing and pulling at the same time, completely lost in the overwhelming heat of being ridden blind and raw.

Zayne tries to run every morning. Even when you are cozy in bed, warm in your cocoon of blankets. Zayne will rise out of bed and go on a run. This morning you woke up early though. Usually, you’re still in bed when he comes back, but today you’ve migrated your bundle of blankets to the couch.

The sofa that gives you a perfect view of the front door. The very same one Zayne walks into, taking off his shoes. Your eyes glaze over his body. Tight-fitted black shirt, hair tousled with sweat, and his shorts that end right above the knee.

“You run every morning looking like that?” You smile from the couch, leaning over the arm rest. Zayne tugs out his earphone,

“What?”

“You run. Every morning, looking like that.” You point at him, raising and lowering your finger.

“Do I look bad?” He asks, sliding his earphones into his pocket before treading towards you on the couch. Up close, you can see the sweat dripping down his neck and the way his shirt outlines his chest just right.

You’re salivating.

“Worse. You look amazing.” He stands in front of you as you sit on your knees. Your hands rest on his chest, smoothing over his lean arms and shoulders.

“You’re staring.” Zayne chides, but there’s no malice in his voice. He likes your praise, your attention. Sometimes you catch him making himself prettier for you. You massage his shoulders softly, leaning in to smell him. Zayne stiffens under you, "What are you—"

"You smell nice too." You smile against his skin. Zayne's hands stabilize your waist, rubbing circles into your skin. "You smell like me." Your chest swirls with pride, scraping his scalp softly with your nails. Zayne hums in reply, his eyes softly closing. He dips his head into your neck, pressing a kiss against your exposed skin.

"I should leave a mark on you." You mutter, running a finger up and down his chest. Zayne lets you touch up on him, running your hands along his abdomen and chest. He watches your hands, the way your face twinkles. He hums once again, raising a brow. "Anyone passing should know you're taken." Zayne chuckles, looping his arms around you. You pull him on top of you, a drop of his sweat dripping onto your collarbone.

"The ring on my finger isn't enough?" He's amused, pride swirling in his chest over you. You shake your head, arms curled around his neck.

"That doesn't stop anyone." You plainly reply, running your knees between his legs. Zayne breathes into you, lips pressed against yours before softly pulling away. You chase him, forcing him back to you with a hand against his nape. "They have to know…" You speak between kisses. "You're taken. That you're mine."

"Yes. Perhaps you should…" Zayne murmurs against your lips, softly biting your bottom lip. You part your lips, letting his tongue slide against yours. Zayne rises, his hands sliding against the trim of his shirt. You stop him, pulling his hands under your shirt instead.

"Keep it on."

pairings — Icky Gynecologist! Nanami x Naive Fem! Reader.

꒰ྀི১ ໒꒱ིྀ synopsis — you book your very first gyno appointment with nanami. you didn’t realize then that you would leave a completely different person and craving for more.

wc: 3.2k

warnings/tags: dead dove do not eat, dark content. NSFW. MDNI 18+. younger sheltered virgin fem! reader (early twenties), gross and pervy older! nanami (mid to late forties), medical au, medical malpractice, taking advantage, gaslighting, dubcon and noncon themes, fingering, power imbalance, panty stealing, forced orgasm, gaslighting, age-gap, degradation, praise, breeding kink, corruption kink, coercion, size difference, humiliation, shame, manipulation. also please note that if you do not like any of these tags, you do not have to read. please feel free to block me and go about your day. if you go out of your way to leave hate i will literally ignore or block your ass, don’t look stupid. not proofread.

you were always so confused about your body. growing up without an older sister, aunt, or mother figure left you with no one to guide you through the depths of your own body. you had no one to ask what did things mean, you were mostly clueless to women’s health. you pieced what you could together through basic info on the internet. googling symptoms, even spiraling in wikipedia hell, yet you still felt deeply embarrassed and ignorant.

after months of vague pelvic discomfort and irregular periods you decided to bite the bullet and book an appointment with your local gynecologist, especially after your best friend vaguely mentioned that “you should get checked out.” you chose dr. nanami because of his reviews, while there were only a few, they were all positive. they said he was “thorough” and “patient with anxious first-timers and younger patients.” everything you needed, yet as you sat in the waiting room with sterile white lights shining over you, you fidgeted. blushed while filling out the initial intake form. when the reception finally called you back, you knew that there was no turning back now. you sat on the hard plastic chair, already shy, clutching your purse, thighs pressed together so tight under your sundress it was like your unconsciously body is already refusing the exam before it even started. but when dr. nanami walked through the door, a small weight seemed to lift off your shoulders for a reason you couldn’t understand.

He greeted you with a warm, paternal smile that seemed to make you give a shy smile back. in that gentle, professional, doctor way that made patients relax “miss l/n.” mid-to-late-40’s, tall, deep voice, polished, impeccably dressed in a white overcoat over slacks and a white button down, and framed glasses. you didn’t notice the slight shift in his demeanor when he first saw you.

he knew the moment he laid eyes on you that he wanted to ruin you.

then the standard questions started. menstrual history, medical background, sexual activity (to which you admitted you had no past partners, only touched yourself occasionally, and even then it was only clumsy external rubbing). “it doesn’t really feel… good? Or maybe it does? I’m not sure what it’s supposed to feel like.” you admitted to him, because that was the truth, you could never bring yourself to finish or even get closer to that edge, everything just felt unsatisfactory but you just convinced yourself you were one of those people who maybe just didn’t find masturbation enjoyable? nanami listened with a perfect bedside demeanor, nodding empathetically that made you feel utterly seen “It’s quite common for young women without proper guidance to be uncertain about their own bodies. That’s why we’re here.”

but what he really thought? clumsy little thing doesn’t even know what an orgasm is. perfect.

he recommended a “full pelvic exam” for baseline health, emphasizing how important it is for someone your age with “limited experience.” you had to undress, pulling your dress off with shaky hands in the corner of the room, then your bra, then your panties, but nanami stayed in the room while you changed. his eyes locked onto the floor (or so you thought) from across the room, he claimed him staying in the room “saved time and reduced anxiety,” and poor old you believed every bit of it. the thin paper gown he gave felt harsh on your skin and made you feel utterly exposed, yet the warm aura that came from nanami made you believe that everything was going to be alright.

everything felt normal. he checked your vitals, the breast exam was swift, etc. he was thorough in ways you should’ve noticed if you weren’t so ignorant, lingering touches, the subtle bulge that slowly started to form in his slacks the longer his fingers were on you, him rolling your nipple between his thumb and index finger. just once. barely noticeable, and over as soon as it started but causing a small whimper past your lips that make his cock twitch in his slacks while explaining everything in textbook language you barely understood.

sensitive, bet she’d cry so pretty with my mouth on them while begging for more. you, so stupid, so naive, thought that maybe all doctors were this thorough.

stupid.

then the pelvic exam came.

so stupid.

he had you lay back on the stiff table, thighs pressed together as he changed his gloves. the latex snapping against his wrist sounded like a round being put in a chamber. you watched his back as he moved across the room grabbing the necessary equipment, you were actively avoiding the stirrups where your feet were supposed to go. but the moment he turned around and saw you there, shaking slightly, something shifted in him. most doctors would comfort you, take their time with you. but nanami? it fueled his disgusting brain even more. the look of you, so nervous and at his expense, he almost turned you over and fucked you raw on this very table. the sight of your thighs pressed together made his cock throb heavily against the front of his slacks. but externally? he just gave you the a small warm smile, the kind that made your shoulders relax despite your legs still being pressed tight.

“don’t worry, miss l/n, it’s alright. we’ll take it nice and slow. many young women find the stirrups intimidating at first. let’s get you comfortable, yeah?”

his voice was steady, professional in the way you believed everything he said. he rolled his stool right between your thighs. he then helped you position your feet in the stirrups himself, one hand lingering on your calf while the other stayed on your inner thigh for a moment too long “for support.”

bullshit.

the paper gown crinkled loudly as he lifted the hem up to your waist, exposing you completely under the harsh and sterile white light. the cool air hit your bare skin making you shiver, or maybe it was the way nanami gazed at your cunt, like he had been undressing you with his eyes long before you were actually naked, you couldn’t tell from which. you stared at the tiles on the ceiling like they were the most interesting thing in the world, afraid if you looked down that all of this would become real.

“perfect. just scoot your hips a little closer to the edge… there you go. excellent.” he adjusted the overhead lamp, staring openly at your pussy while pretending to calibrate it. he used his gloved fingers to slowly inspect the external vulvar area with clinical precision. parting your folds gently with his index finger, noting positively on the color, the lack of lesions, and the “healthy appearance.” but his sick thoughts inside his mind were a complete devoid of what he said outwardly.

fuck, look at the pretty pink slit. barely touched, clenching around nothing. dripping already just from being looked at. this little thing walked right into my office like a gift. he thought. no fucking way i’m wearing latex for this, i want to feel how soaked this clueless cunt gets.

his cock was already half-hard in his slacks. he palmed himself once, slowly, while “reaching for the light.” but what really got you was the sound of latex, not being put in place, no, being taken off. he peeled off his gloves right in front of you, tucking them in his coat pocket. your eyes snapped from the ceiling to him, searching, yet instead he told you “for the internal portion i’m going to proceed without gloves. latex can dull the temperature and texture perception, and for a baseline exam on a younger with limited experience, direct contact can give us much more accurate information about elasticity, lubrication, any subtle tenderness, and overall vaginal health. it’s standard in thorough practices. is that all right with you?”

you nodded quickly, too quick, embarrassed to even have an opinion. afraid of being a bad patient. afraid of being a problem. “if that’s what’s best…”

so so stupid.

he kept one hand on your inner thighs “to steady you.” you didn’t even remember trying to close your legs again, he used his other hand to part you open. his fingers were warm compared to the latex you braced for. slightly rough. bare. no latex barrier. just the friction of skin on skin.

the sterile room smelled sharply of antiseptics, but something underneath it was muskier. the paper crinkled loudly as you shifted, the cold metal from the stirrups bitting into your heels.

one thick digit traced your slit just like earlier, but this time he collected your wetness, circling your clit in small slow motions. “how does this feel?” he asked, voice low and even, bordering clinical like he was checking your blood pressure. like this was normal.

“it-it feels kind of… strange. tingly i guess?” you whispered unsure, staring hard at the ceiling tiles while your face burned. “perfectly normal,” he murmured. so fucking clueless that she doesn’t know that she’s doesn’t know that she’s getting wet for her doctor. pathetic, greedy cunt. i could knock her up right here on this table—fill her up until she’s leaking my cum for weeks.

“you’ll feel some pressure now. try to relax your muscles… good. how does this feel?” he pushed one thick digit in slowly, then a second, curling, stroking your walls with precision while his thumb “accidentally” kept brushing your clit. the wet squelching noise filled the filled the room obscenely as he scissored you open. the stretch burned slightly but sent a confusing spark to your gut as he pumped slowly. his other hand stayed resting on your inner thigh, parting, rubbing small circles into them all while gently but firmly keep them apart.

“it… it feels weird. full? but i don’t know if it’s supposed to—“ he deepened the motion instantaneously, hitting the spot you didn’t have a name for that made your hips jerk. the spongy spot inside of you he rubbed with deliberate yet professional strokes caused a involuntary moan to slip past your lips. “excellent response. that’s normal. some discomfort mixed with sensation is expected.” he said calmly. “your pelvic floor is quite reactive. that’s a good sign.”

like he’d had done this before.

his hand that was resting on your thigh moved abruptly. under the exam table, away from your vision, though not entirely, his other hand palmed his thick obvious bulge that was straining against his slacks. he squeezed himself once through the fabric, stroking once, twice, while his finger continued to work you open.

monthly appointments from now on— i’ll have her bent over this table like my own personal cumdump every four weeks, pretending it’s “pelvic floor therapy.”

the sounds that were coming from your cunt were obscene. wet squelching, those very noises would keep nanami up for days straight feeding his sick fantasy while he jerked off under his desk between patients, in the shower, in bed.

you caught the motion from your peripheral — the rhythmic movement of his arm, the way his hips shifted slightly. your eyes flicked down for half a second. was that…? no? no. you’re just nervous. hallucinating. doctors don’t… you’re imaging it because you’re gross and anxious. don’t be stupid. you snapped your gaze back to the ceiling, heart hammering. the nerves of your first gyno visit is clearly making you hallucinate.

no one ever taught you about this kind of thing, so this must’ve been normal.

he felt you clench and smiled that paternal smile.

“excellent muscle tone. you’re doing very well.” he said. she saw my cock. looked away like a scared little rabbit. but she saw it. next time i’ll make her watch me stroke it while i finger-fuck her. he kept the rhythm steady—slow, deep, agonizingly so. curling his fingers every few thrust—while his thumb brushed your clit “to assess sensation.”

“how does this feel now?”

you whimpered. “it’s… a lot. i feel really weird. like something’s building.”

he added a third finger, stretching you wider unpredictably. “breathe through it. tell me if the pressure changes.” i could cum in my pants right now just from how she’s sucking my fingers in. bet she’s never had anything this thick inside of her. i own this pussy now. she’ll be monthly appointments thinking that this is what healthcare feels like. stupid slut.

your mind questioned what was happening while your body betrayed you — slick coating his bare hand and practically leaked down to his wrist. you didn’t understand what was happening, only that it felt complete overwhelming, the pressure became intense. your thighs shook in the stirrups, you bit your lip to supress those pathetic whimpers and moans. you didn’t understand the heat coiling low in your belly or why your hips kept wanting to move.

“dr. nanami… it feels… really intense. like my body is doing something on its own. can we… can we take a break. please? or maybe i can finish this another time? maybe i could reschedule an appointment for another day…”

he didn’t pull his fingers out. he just slowed them. kept them buried deep inside you and he looked at you with that warm, parental, understanding expression that made your feel like you were the one being ridiculous.

“i hear you. and it’s completely valid to feel overwhelmed—many-first-time patients do. but stopping now would leave the exam incomplete. your symptoms, the pelvic discomfort, irregular periods, the uncertainty about pleasure—point to possible pelvic floor issues or possible vaginismus. this could indicate something that we’d need to catch early on. if you reschedule, we’d likely have to repeat a lot of this, which might be even harder next time. we wouldn’t want that, right? many patients regret not finishing. you’re already being so brave. just a little longer and we’ll have everything we need. you don’t want to be one do this girls who avoid care because of nerves, do you?”

you hesitated, tears forming in your eyes. “breathe. you’re safe. this is what a proper exam feels like. your body is reacting this way because it had never properly been examined before. trust the process.” he added, his voice dropping slightly.

you felt guilty. stupid. like you were wasting his time and being difficult to a man who was only trying to do his job.

you cracked, self-deprecating “i-i’m so sorry. you’re so right… i don’t want to be a problem, i’m just being silly. i can do it. really. please just keep going. i trust you. i’m sorry for interrupting…” you even spread your thighs a little wider in apology, mortified at yourself.

his smile softened. “no need to apologize. you’re communicating perfectly. let’s finish strong.” you didn’t even notice while you were apologizing he took the opportunity to palm himself again—full, slow squeeze of his cock through his slacks, thumb brushing at the angry head where a wet spot was starting to form. you didn’t look this time. you kept your eyes glued to the ceiling like it could save you. he rewarded you by speeding up, his mask slipping just a fraction. “Good girl. such a cooperative patient. how does this feel now?”

but you didn’t respond this time, you couldn’t, not properly at least. your breath hitched. your head was all fuzzy, tears blurring your vision. your walls fluttering, then clamping down hard around his bare fingers like your pussy was trying to both push him out and pull him back in at the same damn time. a sudden, intense, and overwhelming wave crashed through you—your whole body jerked, face twisted, back arching off the table. slick gushed around his hand and the table beneath you. you came with a broken little sound you’ve never heard yourself make before.

he kept fucking you through it, repeatedly hitting your g-spot, drawing it out and milking it, pupils dilated far beyond reasoning. your first real orgasm—you whimpered, ashamed. he prolonged it while palming himself to the edge but not finishing, saving it for a later fantasy.

when it finally subsided you were panting, confused, mortified. “i think… i had an accident? or… what was that?” he slowly removed his fingers, letting them linger on your swollen clit for just a moment too long. showing you, holding them up to the sterile light, then wiping it on your inner thigh with clinical detachment.

“no accident at all. that was an involuntary release—completely normal during internal stimulation, especially for you first time experiencing it. it tells us that your nerves are responding appropriately. nothing to feel ashamed about miss l/n.” he deepened his fingers one more time, claiming to “check your cervix” all while your body was still twitching, wanting to push you over the edge. he helped you sit up, praised how well you did, let you pull down your gown. the rest of the appointment passed in a haze.

“everything looks healthy. no abnormalities. however, given your full history and the fact that this did your first full exam, i’d like to see you back in four to six weeks for a follow up. we can recheck your cycle patterns and go over any self-monitoring techniques if you’d like.” he handed you his business card with his direct line scribbled on the back. “call the office to schedule. or you can reach me directly if anything comes up before then. please, don’t hesitate.”

you got dressed once again, slipped off your gown to put your sundress back on. you didn’t notice that your panties were gone, must’ve been the way way that your thigh were shaking or how your mind was still cloudy. you didn’t see just earlier when he slipped them inside his coat pocket. but as you thanked him and left the room he took the damp fabric and brought them to his nose, inhaling deep with a small smirk. i’ll wrap them around my cock tonight and jerk off to the memory of her gushing on my fingers. next visit i’m tasting her directly. he put them back in his pocket along with the facade he slipped back on.

you left on shaky legs, still wet, still throbbing, still telling yourself that this was normal.

later that night you tried to sleep. you couldn’t. every time you closed your eyes you felt his fingers, heard his deep voice.

how does this feel?

your hand slipped between your legs almost on autopilot without you even realizing. you started like you always did—clumsy circles on your clit—but it wasn’t enough. not after today. you slid two fingers inside yourself the way he had. tried to copy the curl, the upward press.

how does this feel?

you moved faster, chasing that same “tingly” feeling as you did earlier, the same pressure. shame flooded over you instantly.

no one ever taught me… this must be what he meant by reactive. i’m just following his instructions. he was helping me.

tears pricked your eyes even as you rolled your hips against your hand. you added a third finger, gasping at the stretch. though it didn’t feel as good as when he did it, but it was close enough to make you moan broken into your pillow. you whispered his words back to yourself.

how does this feel?

the guilt made the pleasure sharper, more intense. when it hit you again you had to bite your pillow to stay quiet. your body shook harder then it did on that exam table. you came again thinking of his calm face between your legs.

what the fuck is wrong with me? you thought. he was just doing his job. being through. and i’m here fingering myself to the memory like some gross pervert. he even said it was normal. i’m the one making it sexual. i’m the problem.

completely unaware that the real pervert had been that man in the white coat.

you curled up small, eyes burning. you felt dirty. ignorant. broken.

but you also knew that were already going to call in the morning and book that follow up. better yet? you would use his direct line.

his monthly toy.

Apologies if a couple of these got sent twice. Tumblr gave me an error when I first sent them, so I sent them again. But when I later opened the app again, it suddenly showed that I had sent them both again. 🤦🏼‍♀️

Zayne looked exactly the way everyone expected him to.

Impeccably dressed, perfectly composed, seated beside you at a table draped in white linen and sparkling crystal. Someone was telling a long story that had already lost half the room's attention, yet Zayne still listened with the same polite focus he gave everything. He nodded when appropriate and offered a quiet smile at the right moments.

No one would have guessed what was happening beneath the table.

His hand rested on your bare thigh.

At first it was innocent, then his thumb began moving in slow, absent circles, and suddenly you couldn't hear a single word of the conversation around you.

You stared straight ahead, determined not to react, but every pass of his thumb made it harder to focus.

When his hand moved higher, pulling your dress up along the way, you nearly forgot how to breathe.

You tightened your grip around your napkin and forced yourself to keep a neutral expression. Around you, glasses clinked, silverware scraped softly against plates, and conversation flowed without interruption. The normalcy of it only made the situation worse.

You risked a glance in his direction. Big fucking mistake.

Zayne wasn't even looking at you.

His attention was fixed on the guests speaking across the table, his expression calm and attentive. There was a faint curve at the corner of his mouth. The smug bastard knew exactly what he was doing.

His hand moved higher, his finger reaching the edge of your panties until a voice cut through the conversation.

"Zayne, dear? Could you pass the salt?" the woman across from him held out her hand expectantly.

Instantly, his touch disappeared and you nearly sagged with relief.

"Of course."

His voice was smooth and pleasant. He picked up the silver shaker, passed it across the table, and offered one of those warm smiles that made people think he was incapable of causing trouble.

The woman thanked him and everything returned to normal, for at least three seconds before Zayne shifted slightly in his chair.

His shoulder brushed yours.

Without turning his head, without breaking from the discussion now happening beside him, his hand found your thigh again as though it had never left.

This time, a slow hook of his pinky caught the edge of your panties, dragging the fabric to the side, just enough to clear a path. Your breath choked in your throat as his index and middle fingers pressed directly over your pussy, slowly parting your lips.

The quiet breath through his nose told you everything you need to know.

He wasn't going to stop. He was going to make you cum right there, forcing you to take his fingers while everyone else ate, completely oblivious that the most respectable man in the room was ruining you under the table.