hachi's biggest apologist

Imagine buying aphrodisiac candy/chocolates and  stupidly leaving them on your dresser in your room. Follo comes into your room to look for you and spots the chocolate. He's completely oblivious to the fact its special chocolate, so innocently he eats one—they have an interesting yet smooth, delicious taste, and only one turns into 4 or 5.

Of course just after 30-ish minutes he's burning hot, the skin of his neck and cheeks flushes a humiliating shade. For a moment he thinks he's dying, he's feverish, dizzy and undeniably... horny? He's padding across the hall, steps heavy as he finds his way back to your room in hopes you're there. Which thank god you are.

You immediately look up as the door opens and then clicks shut, your eyes zeroing in on Follo who looks like a complete mess. His face is red, he's shaking and it freaks you out for a moment. "Follo? Are you sick?" You ask tentatively, sitting up at the sight of him looking so weary. "I-I dunno.." He speaks, his tone almost whiny. He points to the half eaten chocolates on your dresser and lets out a shaky breath. "I ate some of those and now I feel funny... whats in them?" He thinks he's laced himself with something—which isn't completely wrong.

Your eyes widen and you slap a hand over your mouth, damn near bursting out laughing. "Follo, how many did you eat?" He starts to panic more and walks closer to you. "Like... 5? Am I dying?" Your eyes widen, you're really only supposed to eat one. "Follo, baby... those are aphrodisiacs." You giggle, beckoning him closer. If his face couldn't get anymore red, he was nuclear now. Frozen in place as his heart pounds in his chest—no wonder he's aching all over. His eyes were completely blown out, pupils practically as big as the golden irises of his eyes.

Anyone else would have thought he was absolutely high off his ass. Then he begins to move again, like his legs have a mind of their own. He finds himself on his knees, face burried against your stomach like he's desperately trying to will away the feeling, and save his already broken dignity. "I didn't know." He whimpers, arms curling around your waist.

You try your best not to laugh at him, knowing how all that must make his body feel. Simply one chocolate is meant to make your libido sky rocket, imagine how five must feel. You can feel him shaking, skin burning as you place your hand against the back of his neck in a comforting manner. He finally looks up at you, eyes half-lidded and glazed over, lips parted and breaths shaky. "Please help." He pleas quietly, grabbing at your hips.

His face says it all, he just wants you. No... he doesn't want he needs you, and he's not above begging and crying right now. "Please, I need you. Please, please..." He begins to climb onto the bed to be on top of you, pinning your back to the mattress. He's completely debauched and it might just be the hottest you've ever seen him. His fingers dig into your hips as he slides himself between your thighs, pressing himself right against you. "Tell me I can have you, I'm begging." He whimpers again.

He doesn't know what he'd do if you said no, he'd probably go insane. "Tell me you need me too." You look up at him, eyes wide once again. You've never seen him this way before—completely red and needy like he'd die if he couldn't feel you. It was almost hypnotizing, of course you couldn't stop him, you didn't want too. "I need you too."

Those words made him snap, he lowered his head immediately and pushed his lips against yours swiftly. There was a faint taste of chocolate on his tongue, his mouth desperately moving against yours. It was sloppy and unrhythmic, all tongue and teeth, just like how he felt on the inside—his heart skipping beats and legs feeling wobbly. And oh god, his cock was throbbing beneath the fabric of his pants—it was growing oh-so sensitive and nearly painful. His hips started to twitch against yours before grinding down mindlessly.

Once he started he couldn't stop humping your clothed cunt. Breaking his lips from yours he moans softly, holding onto your hips tightly for leverage as he ruts his against you. You let out a soft, surprised gasp as his hips rutted against yours wildly. Your arms wrapped around his neck, dragging him closer as your hips bucked slightly to meet his. With every thrust forward, the bulge in his pants caught on your covered clit just right. You were getting wet, a soaked patch seeped through onto your shorts.

He was so close already, about to cum in his pants like a desperate idiot just from humping you like a damn dog. His face was turning a darker shade of red from embarrassment, but he was too lost in you already to care about shame. "Hnnn!" He whimpered, blowing his load almost immediately—hips stuttering to a slow stop.

"Did you just...?" You mumbled, not judging but surprised and a little more turned on. He nodded with a low whine and began to pull on your shorts, because he definitely wasn't done. He was still hard and driven by unadulterated desire. "Need to be in you." He growled quietly, a sudden change from being so whiny and needy just a few seconds ago. "Please lift your hips..." You obeyed quietly so he could shove down your shorts and panties, tossing them carelessly to the side.

Oh fuck, you were so wet and pretty for him. He was completely lost in the sight of you, losing his damn mind as his heart pounded in his ears. He began fumbling with the button on his pants and shoving them down along with his cum-stained boxers. His cock springs up, twitching on its own. The tip an angry red, leaking enough precum that it drips down his length. He whimpers as the cool air hits the sensitive tip, he's barely able to hold back from slamming his cock all in at once. "Mmf—sh-shit, baby. Please...please tell me I can be inside you." He begs his tone turing into a low, needy whine all over again like he just can't help himself. Which, he really can't help himself. Your eyes meet his glazed over ones, pupils swallowing up his irises. He's nearly unrecognizable like this, just driven by carnal desire, he's completely libidinous.

You nod slowly, your hand cupping the back of his neck to pull him closer. He whimpers and pushes his hips forward, his free hand wrapping around the base to guide himself toward your slick entrance. His tip nudges your hole, pushing in deeply as soon as he made contact. He drops his head against your collarbone, moaning and whimpering while his hips rut against yours once again. You gasp at the intrusion of him bottoming out immediately, your arms wrap around him, hands running along the ridges of his spine. His thrusts don't start out slow or gentle like they usually do, no, he immediately begins to pound your poor pussy with zero warning. His breaths come out heavy and shaky, thrusts are sloppy and rough and he's whimpering against your collarbone. He bites at your skin to muffle his whines, slamming into you hard enough to make the headboard of the bed clash against the wall with every thrust.

Your moans fill up the room, high-pitched and louder than his incessant whimpers against your collarbone.

"F-fuck, baby." He whimpers against your sweat-slicked skin. His hips stutter, cock grinding inside, the tip hitting your g-spot just right to make you gasp.

"Follo...r-right there, please..."

He loses it at the sound of your voice, so needy and sensual all for him. "You're gonna kill me, b-baby..." He moans slamming into your harder than before.

The rickety mattress squeaks in protest beneath the both of you, headboard clashing with the wall and probably leaving cracks in the paint from how hard he's fucking you.

His hands leave your hips only to grab the back of your knees and fold you into a mean mating press, knees squishing against your tits through the fabric of your shirt. You honestly didn't even know you could bend like this—maybe Follo should take aphrodisiacs more often.

The way he's fucking you now is completely different than the usual way he makes love to you. Usually it's gentle, and slow, tender kisses and much less chaotic like he'd die without being plunged in your pussy.

He swears he's so close already, cock throbbing deep inside you. Oh, he's so embarrassed beneath all that pussydrunk desire. He's about to cum again so damn easily...

"O-oh fuck!" He whines, biting and sucking on your collarbone—leaving a wet, red hickey against your glistening skin.

The sight of his mark on you only pushes him closer to the edge, his hips stuttering and grinding deeper inside you. The feeling of his cock grinding against your g-spot semt you closer to the edge as well, legs quivering beneath his touch.

"F-follo, 'm gonna cum!" You cry, back bowing and head tilting back as a white heat pooled in the pit of your stomach.

He panted and lifted his head to look into your glossy eyes—a choked moan leaving his lips at the sight. His forehead drops against yours, making the situation more intense than before. His eyes never leave yours even as he slams his hips forward again.

Thats all it takes before you're both cumming, your walls spasm around his leaking cock. Your senses heighten, tears forming in the corners of your eyes from the overwhelming pleasure taking over your body. Cum spurts in thick, silky globs from his tip, painting your walls white. Both of you pause, gasping for air after cumming so hard.

He looks down at you in awe, cupping your cheeks between his sweaty palms—gently swiping the tears away from your eyes. He closes his eyes and pushes his lips against yours. His kiss is deep a little sloppy from being out of breath.

After a few moments of afterglow, Follo begings to harden inside you again. The aphrodisiacs still have a chokehold over him, libido higher than ever. It wouldn't he surprising if he can last hours on end before even shooting blanks.

The kiss deepens and his hips slowly begin to grind against yours again with his twitching cock still burried deep inside your cunt.

You whimper against his lips at the sensation. You were still oh-so sensitive from cumming and he's already starting to hump your poor, used pussy like a dog again.

He swallows every little whimper and moan that leaves your lips before rolling onto his back and pulling you on top of him to straddle his hips.

Boths of his hands grab your ass as he pulls back from the kiss, lifting you on his cock and lowering you again. "Please, baby..." He whispers softly in a breathy tone. "Please ride me."

You sit up on his lap, hands pressed against his chest for leverage. His breathy, needy tone turns you on again. Your hips move subconsciously—back and forth, up and down and in sensual circles that make you both whimper.

His hands stay on your ass as you bounce on his cock and he whispers gentle praises to you. "Hng-! Fuck, you feel so good sweetheart. Just like that, ride me just like that." He praises, bucking his hips to meet every drop and rock of your hips. You pick up the pace, hips moving more rapidly against his.

He lets out a choked moan, gripping your ass harder. "Y-yeah, baby just like that. Ride m-my cock like it's yours. I-it's yours baby..." He moans, words practically incoherent as he watches your pussy swallow up his cock.

Your skin began to burn and tingle beneath his palms from how hard he was gripping your ass. His nails left crescent moons in your skin, desperately trying to ground himself yet failing miserably. "Mmfuck! H-hah—it's yours...it's yours. Take it baby, it's all yours."

The sound of him being so needy and pussydrunk makes you wetter, walls fluttering around him as your nails began to lightly dig into the fabric of his shirt that was still unfortunately on. Your hands slid down his chest slowly before pushing up the hem of his shirt. You watch his stomach tense up everytime your hips lower on him, and also notice the sticky mess on his pelvis from where your slick drips onto him.

"Mm, y-you're making such a big m-mess." He says, watching your clit rub against his pelvis as you circle your hips. He listens to your moans for a moment before lifting one of his hands and placing it between you two. His thumb presses against your clit, and rubs soft circles.

Your hips buck, moans leaving your lips as he starts stimulating your clit while you ride him. "H-hnn! Don't stop." You plea, hips desperately chasing your own sweet release.

You swear you begin to see stars as that same white heat builds up in the pit of your stomach.

Follo notices immediately and whimpers at the feeling of you clenching around his cock. "Cum for me, please...p-please baby. Wanna feel you cum on my cock again." He moans as he furiously rubs your clit, feeling the little bud twitch and throb beneath his thumb.

"...'M g-gonna cum... 'm cumming!" Your jaw slacked as you leaned into him, walls spasming around his cock. You soaked his pelvis with slick and squirt.

Follo groaned at the sight and the feeling of your pussy wrapped so tightly around him. His arms wrap around you, bringing you closer to continue thrusting up into you, guiding you through your orgasm while simultaneously chasing his own high again.

His arms are around your waist as his cock pounds into your cunt, making you cry out in overstimulation. "Fuck, F-follo!"

His eyes practically roll back as you clench harder around him, whimpers escaping his lips with every sloppy thrust. "I'm sorry, baby.. sorry, s-sorry." He whines as his hips move harder and faster. He really can't help himself, your pussy is just so addicting and his mind is foggy from the still rampant affects of the chocolate. "Need it so bad... 's so good."

He's desperately trying to reach his high to give your poor pussy a break. Tears roll down your cheeks from overstimulation and your face is burried against his neck.

Just a few more thrusts, he thinks, the plap, plap, plap sound fills the room. And with one final thrust he cums burried deep inside. His cum coats your walls once again as hs slows his thrusts. His eyes open, panting heavily into the air—arms relaxing around you finally.

Your body goes lax against him, hoping he isn't still feeling the affects of the aphrodisiac. Which, he is of course. You whine, feeling him harden inside you again after a few minutes. You lift you head to look at him, brows furround pathetically. His cheeks are flushed pink and he smiles sheepishly now. "H-hah... sorry, baby. Just one more, please?"

And goddamn, you couldn't say no to that face even if you wanted too.

———

The morning after, you both woke up in a sweaty, naked mess. Follo behind you, spooning you and the blankets halfway off.

After a quick shower and getting dressed you walked out through the halls in HQ walking past Enjin who just seemed to be in a fit of giggles seeing the two of you.

Follo's cheeks flush immediately, knowing exactly why Enjin was cackling at you two. Neither of you were good at being quiet to say the least.

"Guess that means I won the bet." Enjin says, wiggling his eyebrows suggestively. His words confuse the both of you but you can only imagine what he was betting on...

"And also, invest in a hotel room." He adds, guffawing when you both turn nuclear.

Maybe the walls are a little too thin.

"Oh em gee fawn you actually posted it we love you so much!!!!" everyone shouts with cheerful joy

Anyway this is genuinely fart out of a butt im sorry, i hope u guys like it anyway

Weather report loves nothing more than witnessing his cum leaking out of you after hours of rough fucking. a dazed look in his eyes as he zones out on your pussy— his tongue darting out his mouth to lick his lips before he dives in and presses a kiss to your throbbing clit. a sort of half-assed apology before he rams his cock right back into your sopping wet cunt, fucking you with no mercy, waiting to fill up your pussy all over again

his hand comes down on your ass, spanking it as he keeps rutting into you, his other hand shoving your head into the mattress to silence your whimpers and sobs for him to slow down. “gonna fill you up again yea’ ? hold it in. don’t waste a single fucking drop.” he growls as he fucks you deep from the back for what feels like hours. time passes and he bottoms out in you again, filling your pussy to the brim before swiftly pulling out and leaning down, watching your cunt with hawk eyes. he frowns as he sees a few drops of his cum trickle out your hole— his hand immediately coming down to spank you again repeatedly till you’re shaking and your asscheek is red. “cmon princess, i said hold it in…” Wes sighs before he wipes some sweat off his forehead “here we go again.” he grunts before plunging his cock right back into you for what would most likely not be the last time.

You can't help but let out a weak chuckle as you grab another ice pack from the cooler that's sitting beside your bed, and you toss it on top of the large, sweaty man who lies next to you.

"That's the fifth time you've said that Jotaro," You mumble, also taking an ice pack from the small cooler and placing it on top of your forehead in hopes of cooling you down.

Jotaro grumbles and sits up, taking the ice pack you handed him and he glides the cooling pack along his face and neck to help cool him down quicker.

"Didn't know you were keeping count."

You sigh, and you sit up. You look behind you, looking at the towels you laid down on the bed, and upon seeing your sweaty body imprint you groan at the sight, wondering just how much water you must've expelled from your body by now.

"Well, there's not much to talk about other than complain about how hot it is, so, I just wanted to see how many times you'd complain about not having a pool, so I've kept track."

Jotaro just chuckles and he rolls his eyes at your retort, too hot to even think of an answer to retort that. Instead, he continues to drag the ice pack across his skin, letting it move from his neck and down to his chest and over his abdomen.

Your eyes follow his movements unashamedly, and, out of the corner of his eye, Jotaro catches you staring.

He chuckles at your lack of shame, but he isn't even one to judge simply because he's been staring at your sticky, sweaty body for the majority of the time that you've both been nude.

"Care to tell me why you're staring?" He asks, his eyes now following yours.

Your eyes flick back to his facial features and you see a smug grin plastered onto his face, and instantly you feel heat rise to your face from being caught, but you're quick to retort.

"Like you're one to talk─You've been gawking at me the entire day."

Jotaro shakes his head and he rolls his eyes, finding your attitude almost chuckle-worthy.

It's his turn to look over at you now. His eyes wander over your sweaty figure, how your hair sticks to your skin, and how the sweat droplets glisten off of you in the afternoon sun, mainly paying attention to how pretty your breasts are covered in sweat, too.

He sees that you're looking at him in the same way he's admiring you, and he suddenly understands a certain thickness forming in the air alongside the persistent humidity. Slowly, he reaches over and runs a hand up and down your waist as you sit hunched over with your poor posture-his fingers teasing the curvature of your stomach-and presses his fingers against your skin.

You get the hint, and slowly he guides you with his hand, guiding you to sit on top of him. He gives you another smug grin meanwhile you give him a pout.

"Jotaro, aren't we only going to get hotter with this-"

Your question is interrupted by Jotaro's command. "Don't care. Come here." He taps your hip-a signal you know to hover over him-and in one hand, he takes his hardening cock, and pumps it a few times until he's fully erect, and slowly, he swipes his tip over your entrance to feel how wet you are, and when he decides it's good enough, he slips it inside of your hot, wet cunt, and immediately both of you let out a moan at the penetration.

Jotaro grabs your hips, and slowly, he pushes you down on his cock until your hips are flushed together.

You let out a whine at the dull sensation filling you up and making you go dizzy, loving how thick your boyfriend is, how you can feel him stretching your walls out, and how his fat tip sits perfectly on your g-spot.

God, he feels so good, you think to yourself, while your hands find a mind of their own and grab his thick quads to find purchase to start riding him, but Jotaro quickly grips your hips in protest.

"No, stay put. We'll get too hot, remember?" He smirks, using your own words against you, and you let out a frustrated groan.

"Please, Jotaro," You beg, which catches you by surprise, finding it funny how easily he already has you falling apart.

He seems to find this surprising too, as one of his dark eyebrows raises, and that smug grin of his reappears upon his lips.

"No, don't want you to move quite yet, sweetheart. Just stay still and... let me cool you down..." He says, his voice low as he grabs the ice pack that you left on the bed, and slowly, he brings the cold pack over your skin, gliding it, and watching water droplets form as he drags it across your body.

You watch with bated breath as Jotaro drags the ice along your skin. You swallow thickly, as your chest rises up and down, your eyes following his every move, and how your breath skips when the ice suddenly gets too cold when he moves the pack over your breasts and the peaks of your nipples.

Jotaro's eyes watch your chest rise up and down with interest, finding the way you react to the cold against such a sensitive part of your skin to be almost gratifying. He watches closely, and intently, seeing the water move across your skin almost as if it's mesmerizing, and how goosebumps rise across your skin from the sensitivity. He smirks at that and looks up at you.

"I see you're cooled down."

You huff, shaking your head, because it's quite the contrary, feeling as if your skin is on fire from how close Jotaro is─how his piercing green eyes look so intently at your breasts, and how good he feels buried deep inside of you. You swallow thickly and reach down, your hands gripping his thighs once more and digging your nails into his skin, hoping you'd return a stinging, hot sensation to him.

The hiss he lets out confirms it, and you flash him a smug grin back at him. Your hips then grind down onto him, moving in a circle, and Jotaro immediately lets out a groan and grips your hips tightly, digging his fingers into you.

"F-Fuck, stop that," He groans, halting his movements with the ice pack.

You watch as his eyes flutter from the pleasure of you moving your hips, how his Adam's Apple bobs, and how his mouth hangs open─you think he looks so good like this, so you let your eyes wander over his pretty facial features, and down his neck, looking at the droplets of sweat adorning his strong, scarred body-it's all such a good view, and it doesn't stop you from moving your hips, that is until Jotaro grips your hips harshly with his strong, calloused hands, causing you to come to a halt and your breath to hitch.

He's silent when he stops you except for the sound of his heavy breathing, which leaves your heart pounding a million miles a minute, wondering what he's gonna do next makes the atmosphere incredibly palpable.

He's silent for a minute more, leaving you anxious, and so, you start moving your hips again to gauge his reaction, but his grip on your hips only tightens and he lets out a huff. You raise an eyebrow at his refusal to acknowledge the silent situation, but, before you can blink, he quickly takes hold of you in both of his hands and flips you over so your face is pressed into the pillows.

You're breathless from how fast the movement is, unable to comprehend the situation fully, you can't even give Jotaro a remark before his rough hands grab hold of you once more to position you with rough grunts; where he grips your hips tightly pushing your ass into the air, and pushing on your back till it curves, and then he grips your thighs and pulls them apart as if he were tearing open a tightly sealed package.

Your eyes are wide with how rough he's handling you, so you grip the bedsheets tightly as if your life depended on it. You swallow thickly, knowing that it was your refusal to stay still that caused all of this.

"J-Jotaro..." Your voice is weak from the newfound tightness in your throat, as well as the fact that your face is pushed into the pillows in front of you. With this, you're practically begging to be recognized with the fact that you're sorry, but, you can hear Jotaro huff with frustration from behind you, making it seem as if he isn't too keen on forgiving you.

"I told you to be still..." He mutters, and you can feel one of his rough hands grip the globes of your ass-cheeks-pulling you slowly apart─and his calloused thumb swipes gently over your poor, weeping hole which reluctantly pulls a soft whine out of you.

His thumb trails down and, as if he were pondering about something, he slowly swipes his thumb over the soft folds of your cunt, making you let out another reluctant whine. You turn your head back to look back at Jotaro to ask for forgiveness, but a quick slap on your ass that has you lurching forward and letting out a quick yelp tells you that he was already reading your mind.

"Won't take an apology, sorry," He says bluntly, and he grins from knowing that he's probably making you annoyed.

You huff, begging to differ, but once you feel a large finger push forward inside of you, it's as if you've felt all of your complaints wash away in a matter of seconds. Your body leans back into his touch, and Jotaro is amused at how easily you lean back into him.

He groans and smiles at how good you look like this, and slowly he begins to curl that finger inside of you, making that motion over and over again, which makes you grip the covers of the bed needily.

"You gonna be good now, now that your wet little hole is weeping from my fingers?" He asks in a gruff voice, clearly finding your easy submission quite amusing.

You nod slowly, and you push back on his fingers as if you'd like them to go deeper, but Jotaro grips your hips tightly once more and with his free hand, he slaps your ass again, shaking his head.

"Seems like you're not gonna be still, so I'll just take my time here," He mutters, and he reaches down with his other hand and pinches your clit, sending a warning to you, which has you let out a frustrated whine.

"Jesus, Jotaro... I'll be still for fuck's sake," You murmur into the pillows, your head feeling a little shaken from Jotaro pinching your clit.

A smug smirk appears on his face, and then slowly, when his fingers start to move again, his face returns to its stoic expression as he watches his finger curl into you before adding another one which makes you moan, and you grip the bedsheets once more.

Once he's satisfied with your moans, he slowly then brings his other hand down and begins to gently rub your clit with his thumb, making you let out another moan.

You feel as if you're in heaven from the way his fingers feel, just enjoying how they make you feel so full and how they curl to hit that spongey spot inside of you every single time. Your head feels so full of bliss as you revel in the feeling of his fingers, knowing that if he kept going, you'd feel close to climbing your climax soon.

In the meantime, Jotaro is watching you intently. He watches the way your body reacts, his eyes watch your pretty cunt clench around him, and how your legs tremble whenever his fingers curl into that spot so deliciously-needless to say, he's focused on you, hoping to see when you're close.

Of course, however, you're giving him everything he wants, with your legs trembling from how good his rough thumb feels on your clit, drawing small, slow circles, you feel the familiar feeling of a rope tightening in your stomach, making you moan louder than were you before, and your breath becomes heavy as a result.

At that moment, Jotaro decides in a split second and quickly removes his fingers from you, and instantly your eyes pop open and look back at him in anger as you lose focus on your incoming orgasm.

"W-What the hell?! I-I was being still!" You retort with eyebrows furrowed, and piercing eyes like daggers as you stare at Jotaro, feeling as if you've lost all of that pleasure at once.

He gives you a smug smirk in response and he leans down, his dark curly bangs falling in front of his face and he nips at your neck.

"I know... just felt so good to get you back," He says, and the smug smirk on his face is practically audible as he leans down to press his soft lips along your skin, and as much as you want to roll your eyes at him, you let out a soft sigh as you feel his warm breath dance along there anyway, just wanting to feel him again.

"Now..." He grunts and sits back up and lifts your ass by gripping your thighs and pulling you towards him again. You let out a surprised yelp at that and he spreads your ass cheeks again, before reaching down to grip his cock. He groans as he slowly begins to tease the tip on your entrance, and as much as you're tempted to push yourself on it, you refrain from doing so because you know he'd only tease you about it.

Jotaro sees this remarkable effort you're making and he grins and lets out a low chuckle, finding your sudden obedience very entertaining.

"There we go... did the heat finally get to that little brain of yours?" He asks, and you huff and roll your eyes at his remark.

"Shut up and just fuck me, Jotaro," You murmur, not finding his teasing amusing at all, and you grip the pillows in front of you for support.

Another grin tugs at Jotaro's lips when you fire back that retort, and he sighs and slaps your ass one more time for good measure which makes you squeak before he slowly pushes himself in. He groans as he slowly moves inside of you, and your mouth drops open when you feel that familiar stretch.

Slowly, he begins to rock his hips, making you instantly let out soft moans from how good he feels─his thick girth slowly opening you up more than you already were from his fingers. Eyes roll to the back of your head and your fingers slowly grip the sheets as you feel the over-encompassing heat swell up within your body, feeling as if the heat wave is starting to finally get to you. Clearly, it seems to be getting to Jotaro too as you hear him groaning, and breathing deeply as he picks up his pace, his hands moving to grip your ass tighter so they wouldn't slip from the amount of sweat the two of you have accumulated over the past twenty minutes or so, inhaling and exhaling each other's heat. 

The heat passing between the two of you is almost more than you can bare as your breath picks up with Jotaro's quick pace─his thick cock hits that delicious spot inside of you earning him moans and shaky legs, and the sticky, wet sound only increases in volume as Jotaro keeps chasing that heat, wanting to finish as his cock twitches inside of you. 

You can only moan at this point, feeling so dizzy and hot as you can only take Jotaro's cock as his quick pace suddenly turns more punishing. You whine, feeling your body tighten and your legs shake and jolt from getting so close to your orgasm. 

"C-Close..." You murmur, letting your head fall forward, letting the heat build up inside of you until it's close to coming to that breaking point. Jotaro can only groan in response to your murmur, knowing he's close too. 

Finally, with a few more thrusts, Jotaro lets out a groan and he grabs your hips tightly, you let out a long moan as your legs shake and that hot blaze inside of you finally bursts free as you finish. 

Jotaro finishes and pulls out of you, groaning as he cums on your ass, watching the white, sticky warmth flow down your ass cheeks. He huffs as he watches, trying to catch his breath, and his eyes drift down to you to see you falling limp against the mattress. He chuckles.

"Looks like the heat waves finally got to us, hmm?" Jotaro remarks, and he sighs as he watches your whole body finally go limp against the bed, he slowly lowers himself next to you with a smug expression written all over his face when you turn to look at him. 

You just groan and roll your eyes, letting your breath calm down as your mind is swimming with bliss, trying even to comprehend his words.

It's no secret that you're average.

Maybe it sticks out even more in a HQ full of child prodigies—being new to the whole cleaning thing does that for you.

And somehow, you have always been his partner.

The chasm in your skill is more than noticeable but everyone in HQ knows better than to mention it—except these people weren't from HQ.

All they saw was a prodigy and the average person weighing him down from reaching the heights he's supposed to reach.

The conversation had started pleasantly enough—the Cleaners from the neighboring branch had been older, more established, the sort of people whose names carried weight.

The sort who looked at Zanka and saw potential.

One of them had laughed, clapping him on the shoulder.

"You're even better than the reports said."

Another had nodded.

"Your handling of that Trash Beast was impressive."

"You've got talent."

"Discipline."

"Instinct."

The praise kept coming as you'd mostly stood to the side smiling politely while pretending not to notice how naturally the conversation excluded you.

"You've got a real future ahead of you," they finally told him.

The words should've ended there, but instead another Cleaner briefly glanced your way, then back to him.

"You ever considered switching partners?"

You remember feeling your stomach drop.

Not because the thought had never occurred, but because it had.

Plenty of times.

The Cleaner continued casually like they were simply discussing equipment.

"No offense."

Which always meant offense.

"You're operating at a level where partner compatibility starts mattering."

Another nodded in agreement.

"Someone closer to your level could probably push you further."

"You'd improve faster."

"You've already outgrown most people your age."

You'd already been preparing yourself for whatever annoyed response Zanka would give.

Maybe he'd tell them to mind their own business.

Maybe he'd ignore them entirely.

Maybe—most likely—he'd call you useless himself just so nobody else could.

Instead he stared at them, expression flat and utterly unreadable.

"I don't want another partner."

The Cleaner blinked.

"What?"

"I don't want another partner."

There was a laugh. "C'mon."

"I'm serious."

The laughter faded as the older Cleaners exchanged looks.

Someone leaned forward. "You really think she's the best match available?"

You remember wanting the floor to open beneath you, wanting them to stop—wanting him to stop, because every second this conversation continued felt worse.

Zanka didn't even hesitate.

"Yeah."

"So you're telling me there's nobody better?"

"There probably is."

The response came instantly and for one second you thought he'd finally agree with them.

Until he continued.

"…I don't care."

The Cleaner stared.

"So you're choosing to limit yourself?"

Zanka's expression hardened, just slightly.

The warning signs you knew better than anyone.

"I'm choosing my partner."

You don't really remember what happened after, just those last four words that seem to be playing in your mind on loop.

Even now, standing in the small room hours later, your chest swells at the memory.

Because Zanka—who hates when birds are too loud or people are "too happy"—explicitly chose you.

Behind him, he hears you humming faintly—never a good sign.

He tugs one sleeve off.

"I'm staying here tonight," comes your announcement.

He closes his eyes briefly.

Of course.

"…Do whatever you want."

His eye twitches when you actually gasp out loud.

"Was that permission?"

"No."

"But you didn't say no."

"I should've."

You hum smugly as you begin to undo the buttons at your collar, trying to remember which pair of your pajamas you'd left in his closet. "Well it's too late now anyways."

After that, the conversation simply... runs out.

The room settles into a comfortable quiet broken only by the rustle of clothes and the occasional sound of someone moving around.

It feels strange.

Most nights you would've still been arguing.

Or you'd be bothering him.

Or he'd be threatening to throw you out.

Instead, the edge seems to have worn off somewhere between the long car ride back and the moment you'd announced you were staying.

The mattress dips as Zanka sits on the edge of the bed, the shirtless frame of his torso on display.

A moment later he hears you moving around behind him, changing into something more comfortable.

You're quieter.

Not upset.

Tired, yes, but not just that either.

Softer, maybe.

The version of you that surfaces when you forget to be difficult.

Right now you're shimmying out of your pants, the fabric whispering down your legs to pool at your ankles, leaving you in nothing but panties and an old oversized shirt he recognizes as his once—now stolen and repurposed for sleeping.

His gaze snags on the curve of your hips before he forces himself to look away, heat coiling low in his belly.

"Want the right side?"

A pause, then a small hum.

"Mm."

Like you'd expected him to know

Maybe you had.

The right side had become yours somehow several trips ago. He can't even remember when, only that you always end up there.

The mattress shifts again, then there's a sudden weight against his side.

Zanka freezes.

You'd wandered over and leaned into him without a word, pressing your shoulder lightly against his arm.

Seeking warmth, comfort, something that he never expected anyone would come to him for.

For once you aren't trying to get a reaction out of him.

You simply stay there, quiet, the top of your head nearly brushing his shoulder.

He chooses not to say anything about how you still haven't changed into proper pajamas, just casually cuddling into him while you're in your underwear.

Like he isn't painfully aware of the silky skin of your thighs peeking out from under the hem of the shirt or that those panties ride your ass just right, leaving little to his imagination.

Instead, he stares intently at the opposite wall, his breath held tight in his chest.

"You cold?" he asks stiffly.

You hum no and he suddenly feels a light tickle along his side before it escalates into a gentle prod.

"Look," you chide. "You removed the sutures too early and now its gonna scar."

"It's gonna scar because you suture like you only have one working hand."

He half expects you to bicker back, half expects you to just make another non-verbal noise.

Instead you snort softly. The sound puffs against his shoulder.

"Maybe I did it on purpose."

His brow furrows. "What?"

You poke the spot again. "Maybe I wanted it to scar."

"That's stupid."

A pause.

Then you casually say, "I think you look hotter with scars."

For a single, disastrous second, his brain completely forgets what to do with that information.

Ordinarily, he'd have a response for this—you flirted with him often enough.

Not constantly or enough that anyone else would've noticed a pattern, but enough.

Enough that every now and then you'd lean over his shoulder and call him pretty just to annoy him.

Enough that you'd tell him some stranger had been staring at him.

Enough that you'd grin and ask whether he practiced looking intimidating in a mirror.

Usually he could deal with it—roll his eyes, call you ridiculous and tell you to shut up while pretending the comments bounced off.

Except that the problem was that he'd never disliked it as much as he should have—which was, of course, its own irritation.

But tonight feels different.

Maybe because it feels less like you making fun of him, and more—if not entirely—sincere.

And that makes something unpleasantly warm flip low in his stomach.

His shoulders lock, heat crawling up the back of his neck.

Fortunately you're still leaning against him and can't see his face.

Unfortunately he can feel the warmth threatening to reach his ears.

Zanka clears his throat. "You need better hobbies."

Smooth.

Very smooth.

You grin, and he can hear that too. "I mean it."

"That makes it worse."

"Why?"

"Because now I know you've put actual thought into this."

A quiet laugh escapes you. "I have."

"Obviously." His response comes a little too quickly.

You laugh again, and somehow that makes the warmth worse. He immediately decides he sort of hates this conversation.

A few more quiet, comfortable moments pass.

Then you're shifting, sliding off the bed until your knees hit the floorboards beside him.

You rest your cheek against the soft fabric of his pants, your eyes drifting nearly closed as warmth spreads through you, making everything slightly blurry.

Through the contact, you feel the muscle in his thigh tense as he straightens his posture.

"You were nice today," you murmur.

Above you, the expected sigh comes. You smile against his leg, nuzzling closer.

Your lips travel upward, moving toward the apex of his thighs where he's already begun to swell against the dark fabric. Your fingers glide up to hook into his waistband, pausing as your eyes seek his in silent question.

You've never seen each other completely naked or had sex, but there have been nights when your lips might meet in the dark when things got too close.

Sometimes the kissing would escalate into intense make-out sessions, grinding against each other until you were both breathless.

Like those times, even now this feels natural—the way he gnaws his cheek, trying to show restraint as he gives a curt nod, then quickly adds, "Just the pants."

Your smile catches on your lower teeth as you help him hastily slide his sweats down, tugging them over the tent he's pitched in his boxers.

As the sweats clear his ankles, he quickly folds them and keeps them on the bed.

Your palms are already running up his thighs, admiring the contours of muscle underneath smooth skin as you shamelessly press your face between his legs.

You feel him physically cringe and ignore it, lost in your own heaven.

His smell curls into your nostrils, clouding the edges of your thoughts.

Something shifts in the rhythm of his breathing—or perhaps it's the subtle tightening of his fingers in the sheets. Either way, you notice it.

The familiar ache sparks behind your ribs, dragging downward until you're squeezing your thighs together, slick warmth gathering between them.

Feverish heat spreads through you, blurring everything but the single, urgent thought of needing him.

Your lips trace the hard curve beneath the fabric, following it upward until you press your mouth directly against the evidence of his arousal.

A sharp hiss escapes him as his hips buck against your face.

He grows harder, his length straining so clearly against the fabric that you can almost map its shape with your eyes alone.

You hum, placing a lazy kiss against his shaft, smirking when it twitches in response.

Suddenly his fingers thread through your hair as he swallows, trying to regain control of his breathing.

You glance up, catching his expression—eyes half-lidded, brow furrowed slightly, color high on his cheekbones. A few ashen strands from his usually immaculate mullet have come loose, hanging across his face.

"What—"

The word collapses midway when you drag the flat of your tongue along the shape of his cock in one long stroke from base to just short of tip.

His grip tightens in your hair, his hips jerking again.

Better yet, that familiar addictive smell begins to thicken—his usual scent but with something deeper, more masculine layered beneath.

Your thighs clench again as the ache between them worsens.

"Fuck—"

The word slips out before he can stop it and he swallows immediately afterward, jaw tightening.

Then something shifts subtly, but noticeable enough that you hesitate.

The warmth that had been lingering between you falters slightly as his expression closes off, conflict and something else briefly surfacing in those deep blue eyes before disappearing behind the familiar mask.

You pull back just enough to study him.

"Something wrong?"

For a moment he doesn't answer.

His teeth catch briefly on his lower lip.

"You don't have to do this."

You blink. "What?"

"It seriously wasn't a big deal. They were just bein'—"

He gestures vaguely, as if the rest of the sentence isn't worth finishing.

Your brows knit together as genuine confusion overtakes you for a moment.

Then it clicks and the realization settles in.

You stare at him.

And then, despite yourself, your expression softens into something bright and faintly amused.

"...You think I'm doing this because—what? I feel obligated to?"

His lips part—whether to defend himself or deny it, you're not entirely sure.

You don't give him the chance either way.

"Because you weren't an asshole for once in your life?"

The words come accompanied by a dramatic roll of your eyes.

It was more than that. Much more than that.

The memory of him sitting across from those esteemed Cleaners, listening to them casually dissect your worth as a partner before shutting the entire conversation down without hesitation, still sits warm in your chest.

But you downplay it anyway, partly because he looks uncomfortable and mostly because watching him squirm is funny.

For half a second he's completely speechless.

The moment your smile widens, his eyes narrow.

"You're an idiot."

You grin, his scowl deepens.

"I'm doing this for me, not you."

For a brief moment he simply stares at you, the confidence in your answer seeming to throw him more than any teasing ever could.

Then he looks away first.

"Of course," he grouses.

The irritation in his voice would be more convincing if you didn't catch the faint flush along the tips of his ears.

"Or maybe… you just want me to prove how badly I want this?" you whisper, lowering your head again.

You stick out your tongue, pressing the tip right against the wet patch at the front of his boxers and swirling it around until you can taste the faint saltiness of his arousal.

He pulses against your mouth, fresh pre-cum soaking through the fabric as he curses low in his throat.

"Fuck—" he hisses through his teeth. "You're terrible."

"Why?" Glee bubbles in your voice as you watch him strain and tense, tracing patterns on his shaft until the your tongue is dry from friction and the fabric is damp.

You seal your lips around the swollen head as best you can through the cotton, sucking gently.

The sight above you is exquisite—his toned chest flexing and shimmering with a light sheen of sweat that catches the dim light.

And his face, expression contorted as if in pain as you lavish attention on his bulge.

"Mm, gonna cum already?" you tease. "Right in your boxers?"

His jaw clenches tighter as you caress him with your tongue while he glares daggers at you.

Because both of you know the answer—he's already pulsing so hard you can feel it against your tongue, clearly fighting to hold back his rapidly approaching climax.

Not that you're faring much better. It's only when his eyes drift between your thighs, narrowing slightly, that you realize you've been pressing your heel into your crotch to alleviate some of the ache.

And by the time you realize, it's too late. His eyes are sharpening, lips curving in a sharp smirk.

Shit.

"Well now," he laughs breathlessly. "At least that's better than getting off on your own foot."

"What?! I was not—"

"It's okay, I'll help you out." He bends over, hands hooking under your arms before you can protest. "…Since I'm bein' so generous today," he adds in your ear.

Then with one harsh tug that borders on painful, he exerts enough force to maneuver you on top of him, guiding you to clumsily straddle him.

You gasp softly as his hardness presses against your panties, now soaked with arousal.

He doesn't waste time on teasing—just grabs you with fingers digging into your hips to hold you in place as he ruts up against your panty-clad pussy.

You let out something like a breathy whimper that harmonizes with his low groan as the friction sends sparks flying through your throbbing clit.

Your eyes catch on his abs tensing and given how modestly he usually dresses, just seeing this much skin is driving you past the point of dignity or coherence.

Your fingers glide up to tease at the waistband of his boxers and the words fall from your lips so automatically you wonder who's speaking. "Take 'em off."

You're not thinking clearly.

Neither is he, because he only hesitates for a second before his fingers hook around the elastic to tug it down and free his cock.

The flushed head springs out, several veins mapping his normally smooth shaft from how rigidly hard he is.

Under normal circumstances, you'd take a moment to admire it. But right now you're so worked up that all you can do is whimper at the sight as fresh heat floods through you.

"C-Can I?" he asks breathlessly, already holding you by the hips and pressing his length against the soaked fabric of your panties.

You're not entirely sure what he's asking, but you nod eagerly anyway.

He exhales sharply as he holds you in place, grinding his drooling tip against the outline of your folds where the thin fabric clings to them. His pre-cum seeps through, adding to the growing mess.

"Shit." His hands slide down to the sides of your thighs, pushing them together. Intuitively understanding what he wants, you squeeze your thighs around his cock, cushioning his length between plush flesh. "Yea, perfect, j-just like that—"

Wanting to hear more of those sounds from him, you piston your hips slightly, just enough to create a crude rhythm of jerking him off.

Between your sensitive thighs and pressed against your clothed pussy, you're acutely aware of how warm his cock is.

Warm, twitching, dripping like it's alive.

And once again, in another decision that feels automatic, your fingers slide down as if with a mind of their own, hooking into the gusset of your panties.

This is probably a bad idea. You briefly think about condoms before the notion slips away.

Not that you'd use them even if you had them right now—what you truly want is to feel his cock directly against your skin.

You lift your hips slightly and tug the gusset of your panties to the side, exposing your folds.

They're swollen, glistening with arousal that beads at your entrance, practically begging for attention.

His cock jerks at the sight, another bead of pre-cum welling up at his slit.

"You—" His voice cracks, but he pushes through. "You sure 'bout this—"

You press down, letting his cock glide through your slippery folds, and both of you moan. "Well—ah!—maybe you don't need to put it in."

Your breath catches as you settle completely, peeking down to where his cock is nestled between your lips, only the ruddy tip peeking out from between them.

"This... this feels good."

He gives a curt nod, wasting no time before shifting his pelvis to slowly piston his length back and forth through your wet folds.

You sigh, breath hitching when he reaches forward, thumbing one of your folds open to expose the swollen nub of your clit before brushing against it.

Then he grabs his cock, angling it so the satiny glans rubs directly against your clit.

The sensation is even better than you imagined—warm, sticky, impossibly slick as he drags the head across that sensitive bundle of nerves.

Both of you stare intently at where you grind against each other, mutual sparks flying from the point of clumsy friction as you try to get off on one another.

Until he abruptly shifts, chasing his own pleasure at an angle that deliberately takes pressure off your clit.

Mindlessly, you try to press harder, to shift in response and align yourself so your clit rubs better against him, to chase that perfect friction—

"No. Stay," he mutters, not even bothering to look at you as he keeps you firmly in the position you're in, grinding his cock against you.

Right into the dip of where your hole steadily leaks, and just short of your clit, leaving you to squirm with frustration.

"I think my partner needs—mmh—to learn a thing or two about patience," he rasps between shaky breaths before clicking his tongue at your insistent squirming. "Unless you can't," he continues suddenly. "…And maybe they're right about getting an upgra—"

Your hand clamps firmly over his mouth, muffling his provocations as you scowl.

"Shut up," you snap, before realizing, "Wait—"

Leaning forward, you opt to shut him up with your lips crashing against his.

He doesn't even pretend—his lips part immediately to let your tongue slide in, claiming his mouth.

You lick the bed of his smooth tongue before it tangles with yours.

It's hot and wet and messy. Teeth clicking, saliva mixing and threatening to leak from where it gathers at the corner of your lips.

You shift, pushing down on him and finally letting your clit catch perfectly at the ridged edge of his tip.

Like this, you hump him desperately, and to your delight, he ruts up into you just as enthusiastically, matching your neediness instead of pushing you away or trying to shift angles.

He moans into your mouth and you swallow it greedily, feeling the pulse build in your clit with each desperate thrust.

All pretenses, all egos—shattered to pieces.

For once he's not posturing, not pretending he isn't as consumed by you as you are by him.

One hand digs into your hip, the other clutches your ass, holding you flush against his cock as his pelvis bucks wildly.

Somewhere in the frantic exchange, his tongue becomes the invader, his teeth capturing your bottom lip before you can process the shift.

You wince when he bites down hard enough to draw blood, and you can feel his lips curling against yours when you whine.

Your hips circle in sinuous motions, grinding your clit into his swollen tip, faster and harder until the rhythm breaks apart into something erratic and desperate.

"Mmh f-fuck yes—" he chokes out, suddenly clutching you so tightly it borders on painful. "I'm gonna—hah—!"

His words dissolve into a choked whimper as he holds you down, pinning you still while he presses his cumming length against you.

Liquid heat erupts against your sensitive clit and folds, a strange but utterly intoxicating sesnation.

It's the heat that consumes you—ropes of cum shooting onto your pussy as his cock twitches violently. He's cumming, he's cumming, it's so hot—so impossibly hot—you think you might actually pass out.

By the time the last weak spurts subside, your chests are sticking together with sweat. You feel him heaving beneath you, muscles tensing and relaxing, as you share warm breaths and his iron grip on you finally eases.

You're dizzy and your clit aches with need.

Without checking in, driven purely by your own desperate need to finish, you rock your hips back and forth, rubbing your clit against his softening cock.

He jolts from the overstimulation, lips breaking from yours, and for a second you're certain he'll stop you.

But he doesn't.

Instead his hands slide to your waist as his head dips, lips pressing against your throat.

"That's it," you think you hear him murmur against your skin.

You feel him tense and catch his breath as you continue to grind against his spent, overly sensitive cock. You slide, all slick and sticky from the drying milky cum you're using as lube to get yourself off.

Your clit, his reaction, the sting of his teeth grazing your neck—it's all enough to send you over the edge. Your orgasm hits you suddenly, crashing through you in a short-lived but intensely euphoric wave.

Then you collapse completely onto him, suddenly exhausted, not even bothering to put your panties back in place.

For a moment you lie there as he clumsily manages to tuck himself back in, bodies slick with sweat and cum, breaths gradually returning to normal. Boneless and languid, you wait for your mind to come back online.

And as soon as it does—

"Zanka your dick is so cute, I had no idea you were carrying that down there the whole time—"

"Quit bein' weird—"

"And you whimper so much!" you coo, pushing yourself up just enough to face him as you pinch his cheek, ignoring the deadly scowl on his face.

His lip curls, twitching in irritation.

"Who would've thought the big mean Zanka whimpers when he c—"

The words die in a muffled gasp as his palm clamps over your mouth, rough and warm.

His grip isn't cruel, but firm enough to silence you.

"Cut it out," he snaps.

Your heart thumps against his hand where it rests on your chest.

For a moment, you struggle against the sudden restriction, your tongue attempting to form another teasing remark.

But then the fight drains out of you as quickly as it came.

Your body goes slack against his, your breathing evening out into soft, rhythmic pants against his palm.

Zanka remains tense above you, waiting for some sign that you've learned your lesson.

But after ten seconds of silence, your breathing hasn't changed. He lifts his hand slightly, peering down at you.

Your eyes are closed, lashes casting faint shadows on your cheeks. Within a few seconds flat, you’ve actually fallen asleep.

With the taste of him still on your tongue and your cheek pressed against him like his angular shoulder is the most comfortable pillow in the world.

A sigh escapes Zanka's lips as he shifts slightly, careful not to wake you.

He had wanted you both to shower before bed, to clean up the sweat and other evidence of what just happened.

But looking at your peaceful face, he decides it can wait until morning.