🕷️

it’s barely your fault that the feeling of a warm, hard muscled, naked full grown man wrapping his heavy arms around you leaves you undisturbed. even when he starts grinding something mean against your upper back thigh and licking at the shell of your ear, it’s on you for not coming to.

even as nanami’s rough hand, that he had washed before crawling into bed despite being drunk off of his ass—pressed against the lower half of your face, you only stirred slightly.

“let’s get it on, baby. ‘m sorry for what i said earlier, i don’t wanna fight. gonna do you real good like you want me to. read so many— hiccup— articles,” he slurs lowly into your ear with hot, whiskey breath as his thumb rubs your cheekbone soothingly.

you have to give yourself some credit though, your subconscious had almost woken you up when he shoved a hand into your sweatpants. he brushes the tips of his middle fingers against the gusset of your panties with a, “ohh, there she is.” the first half of his two long fingers take up the entirety of your labia, if you were awake maybe you’d even feel the way an experienced nanami found your clit before even feeling around for it first.

you can’t fault nanami too much, a small alert in the back of his wasted head went off when your thinly covered labia felt a little shorter in length than he had remembered. but poor nanami figured he’s just drunk, that and he hasn’t touched his girlfriend or been touched by her in quite a while. he can’t even pinpoint the last time his oppressed balls were emptied.

his movements are nice and slow, rotating between sensual circles and soft strokes from the top of where your inner lips start and down to the bottom where your hole is starting to wake up before you even do. his touch isn’t fast and rushed like all of the college boys you’re used to who are driven purely by raging hormones.

rather, nanamis rubbing on your pussy is enjoyable for him, his eyes are closed in bliss as he noses at your neck and hair. your pussy is warm, the heat is rapidly escalating in temperature with every stimulating touch. he basks in the feeling of slowly coaxing your clit to start thumping against his fingers when he pushes against the hood covering it in two short pressing nudges, using your panties to soften the sensation.

he coos an appreciative hum when your leg muscles twitch in response and your hands jerk softly as you sleep. it didn’t take long for your clit to go from subtle thumps to needy throbbing. “i know, i knoow— don’t say it— hiccup— you want me to be more rough with you. but, still needa get you wet for an easy slide into this honeypot.”

if you were awake, you’d fucking laugh at the old man term for pussy— then again maybe you wouldn’t because he’s starting to move his fingers back and forth with forceful pressure to wedge your panties between your outer lips. he nibbles on your neck as you let out a sleepy whimper. your nipples and lower abdomen ripple in a wave of tingles as his fingers use the fabric to produce a delicious friction. it’s akin to a paper towel being set down on a puddle of water, the way your gusset soaks up the abundance of leaking arousal the second he wedges the cloth in, making a dark patch.

that dark patch is balmy and sticky, aiding in a nice slip and slide for his massage. “fuck,” he grunts into the side of your head, “got so sticky wet so fast. see?— hiccup— you do enjoy when i’m soft on you, baby.”

the way he emphasizes the word ‘do’ is as if he’s made this point before. if you were awake, you’d probably be able to connect the dots that he and your mom are having intimacy issues but who are you kidding, you’d be too distracted with the way he’s rubbing you in a relentlessly sweet way that he’s enjoying as much as your body is.

your pussy has been adequately prepped for minutes now, but he figures since you’re sleeping, you can’t make him hurry up and stick it in you like his girlfriend always rushes him to do. he can do what he pleases right now, thats what nanami thinks your mom’s argument was anyways, for him to do get a little greedy.

truthfully, he’s acting out of bitterness, upset that your mother told him she’s no longer attracted to him because of how soft and kind he is. his way of ‘getting back at her’ is by taking his time to touch and play with what he thinks is her pussy until he wishes to stop. nanami’s instincts when he’s upset is usually to comfort and cherish, not hurt and destroy, he genuinely thinks he’s in the wrong right now by taking all the time he wants to play with your pussy.

to hear a ‘squelch’ everytime he prods at your clothed cunt is diabolical. one would think the cloth would prohibit any kind of ‘chu’ noises but even when drunk, nanami is too skilled, he’s teasing you expertly by simply relying on his own desires to do so.

nanami is lost in the act, addicted to your twitching clit and the clench he feels your hole make every time he brushes against the entrance of it. even your reproductive organs are anticipating some kind of penetration. but the sound of a muffled, sleepy cry against his palm snaps him out of it. he chuckles and peppers kisses against your shivering neck, uttering apologies between every kiss. his fingers transition to apply pressure to the entirety of your labia in attempt hold you over for just a moment, aware of the silent plea of your body yearning for penetration.

“okay, okay, i feel it. i know. shh,” he coos into your ear as your legs and abdomen jerk due to the pressure to your sensitive cunt, “need something to milk, hmm? you’re in luck, my cock needs milking, you— uh— slut.”

nanami’s trying his very best, using all of his drunk brain power to think back to that article titled ‘seven ways to spice up your sex life and please your unsatisfied woman! (intense, hard sex for beginners).’

1. be dominant— check. he hopes playing with your pussy from behind with a hard hand over your mouth the entire time counts. a subsection of this said to ‘take what you want!’ and he certainly has so far, subjecting your unconscious body to torturous fondling. he thinks he’s doing alright.

2. mean dirty talk— check. calling you a slut once, although very poorly, counts.. right?

3. consensual non-consensual play— check. he had to put on his reading glasses to read the definition on a site called ‘urban dictionary’ to understand what the fuck somnophilia was after your mom had said it as if it were an insult, that he ‘hasn’t even tried that’ on her, in their little argument. that’s what led him down the private online browser black hole to find this article in the first place.

already three down and a few more to go, nanami’s feeling confident as he shoves your sweatpants and soaked panties down until they’re at your knees. hazy eyes flit down to coordinate his movements as much as his drunk ass can, all while murmuring, “lets get these— hiccup— off of you. sorry, just gonna—yeah— shove ‘em down.”

is there any excuse for not waking up by now that makes more sense than to say you’re exhausted from midterms? a nice, wet dream where someone with a deep voice is holding you, playing with your cunt, and whispering sweet nothings into your ear is just too inviting for a college student who’s only possible relief is a two-pump frat boy who spreads a rumor that you suck in bed after.

nanami uses one hand to press on your lower tummy to jut your butt out towards him before using the same hand to grip the base of his hard cock. he shivers as his fingers, slick and sticky with your fluid, graze against his dick, his focused, squinted eyes locked on your arched ass as he aims himself.

“ready?” he mutters to you, more a question to himself than anything, as his tip brushes softly against the outside of your entrance.

“three, two,” he slurs as he counts down, hand on your mouth tightening as he pushes your head back into his chest to prepare for your awakening. he pauses for much longer between two and one, gulping to himself. he’s applying enough tension with his hips so that his tip presses to the outside of your cunt without having to hold it there, so he can use his free hand to gently pull one of your lips away as to expose your silky, toasty insides for better access.

“one,” he breathes out with eyes blinking, a long pause delaying any movement despite one being the number he’s supposed to penetrate you on.

this feels wrong, your body, who he believes is your moms, is blissfully asleep and still. it’s as if he’s waiting for you to give him a little encouragement, a muffled whimper or something, but you don’t. he wonders what you’re dreaming about, if it’s him or if it’s that guy who your mom boast’s about with a flush to her cheeks at the work parties he brings him to. that infuriating thought leads him into the thought that maybe he’s who your mom will leave him for, maybe he knows how to be rough with her the way she years so badly for. maybe that guy wouldn’t second guess himself when he’s about to shove his unforgiving cock into her soft body.

the irritating thought spiral makes the vein in his forehead pop and his jaw clench. he moves his eyes up from your arched back and leans down to your ear to breathe heavy into it. his hand subconsciously tightens around your lower face as his jealousy grows, making your brows twitch into a pout briefly in your sleep as one of your hands slides a few inches against the sheets in a jerking reaction.

the build up to this moment happened in twelve frames per second, choppy and fragmented, similar to the way his drunk mind is operating right now. but when nanami finally makes a move, everything turns into a sudden burst of force, like a sneaky wave that slams into the back of your head and pushes you off of your feet and equilibrium as all of your senses turn from serene beach noise to a loud sloshing that fills your ears and lungs.

one mean, rough snap of his lower body, motivated by so many conflicting factors within nanami’s head, and he’s mounted all the way inside of your body.

“biiig stretch,” nanami growls deeply into your ear before sinking his teeth into your neck, eyes rolling into the back of his skull as his toes twitch and his legs push against yours.

4. leave a mark— check. he can feel your soft skin giving in to his teeth, no doubt you’ll be dealing with that reminder for weeks after this. he doesn’t even feel bad when the thought of your mom’s work ‘friend’ seeing the evidence of her very exciting personal life.

everything that happens to your body when he infiltrates happens all at once—your wide eyes shoot open, nostrils flare with a big inhale, back arches, one hand flies behind you to dig your nails into the muscley ass of whatever is penetrating you while the other claws at the hand over your mouth, legs extend straight out, toes curl, and pussy flutters.

if nanami wasn’t so drunk and riled up by his own thoughts, he would absolutely notice the difference in sensations within your cunt. although it’s been more than a while since he’s felt the inside of your mothers body, its agonizingly clear that this one he just forced into feels different. if he didn’t use so much strength initially to slam in, he would have had to practically pry his way in. when his cock head nudged at the little folds where your hymen is located, in less than a split second, mid thrust, he felt a resistance that made him engage more core strength to get past it.

that’s not the only thing thats different, what he’s used to with his girlfriend is a cute, subtle flutter around his cock when he gets inside but, the flesh surrounding him right now is choking his fucking dick every half second like it’s panicking, like it’s crying out that it’s not used to this.

the consistency of these walls are gooey, bumpy like any pussy is, but really the only accurate word to use is gummy. its like he’s being strangled by a sticky gelatin candy that’s alive and breathing. even drunk nanami is surprised by how wet you are inside, its making him think back to when he played with your pussy and wonder if he had lost track of time and done it for longer than he thought because what his cock is used to with your mom is a slightly dry consistency. he knows he hadn’t prepped you that long at all, maybe twenty minutes and you’re gushing as if he’s been fingering you for three hours nonstop.

but even if nanami wasn’t inebriated, his primal instinct to give in to the tight hug of this pussy he’s entered is too strong for logical thinking and it’s much too strong for him to get a better look at who’s actually connected to this cunt.

he briefly detaches his teeth to let out a euphoric ‘ooowh’ as his hand that was holding your pussy lip moves to rest against your lower tummy where he can feel his own fucking bulge inside. he quickly rebinds his teeth into your neck after— an almost subconscious way to cope with your tight body.

now fully awake, you quickly notice the hand over your mouth prohibiting you from gasping and crying out through it the way you need to, the large warmth of a man enveloping the entirety of the back of your body, the sharp teeth locked onto your neck, and the monster cock stretching you out painfully all at once in a way you’ve never felt before.

you immediately start to squirm, rotating from pushing against his hip, hitting at it weakly, and sinking your nails into it to cope with his unyielding presence seated within your cunt, unmoving and forcing you to deal with it.

one of your eyes twitch in sync with your muscles in the hand on his hip when the sharp pain of nanami detaching his teeth from your neck shoots through your nerves.

“good—” nanami hums, basically purring as he laps a slow few licks at the indents, making you shiver and flinch, “—morning.”

the shock subsides enough for you to begin thinking through what the fuck is happening. you’re clearly not in your dorm. the nightstand beside you holds an open scrapbook with your baby pictures, a reminder of when you were looking through it earlier. it all floods back—how you came home to surprise your mother and ended up falling asleep while waiting.

immediately, you assume whoever is behind you is a stranger who broke into her home and you start squirming harder than before, trying to get out of his grasp.

“hey, hey— calm down,” he’s speaking directly into your ear, drawing out the phrase in attempt to soothe you as his hand on your lower tummy begins to rub in comfortingly slow circles, right over his protrusion.

you whimper and try to shake your head harshly as to refuse his request. you’re using your hands to push as hard as you can against his hand on your mouth and his hip, which isn’t very hard since his third arm has rendered you limp and useless. you don’t push his warm hand away from your tummy though, because perverted intruder or not, it actually is easing some discomfort.

5. restrain yourself or her— check. apart from the fact that he’s had a hard hand clamped on your mouth this whole time, he’s quite effortlessly keeping your writhing body restrained against him as well.

“it’s just me, honey,” nanami quickly says, in a reassuring tone with a bit of humor in it and a kiss to your ear. “—your very, very mean, rough boyfriend.”

the way he’s playfully cooing that he’s a mean, rough boyfriend makes you blink and your resisting hands falter a bit. your eyes flick to the dresser: a bottle of expensive cologne, hair gel, designer watch, a plain leather wallet, the large shirt you’re wearing and the XL sweatpants that are sloppily hanging onto your knees.

you realize as quickly as you squeal in horror under his palm that this has to be your moms boyfriend that she obviously never wanted to tell you about. and clearly, she never told nanami about you. or maybe she did, but since you thought it’d be a good idea not to tell her you were coming, you’re now cock warming your mom’s secret boyfriend who thinks you’re her. the butterfly affect in action.

drunk nanami clearly perceives your squeal of horrifying realization as one of excitement because he chuckles and nuzzles the side of your face. “mmmhm— see? this ‘doormat’ of a man can be greedy too,” he lets out a deep slow breath against your face, “played with your— ahem— pussy for twenty minutes before you woke up.”

clearly, your mother had called him a doormat at some point. the way he says ‘pussy’ is like he’s not familiar with the word. it’s obvious he’s trying to make a point by telling you about his twenty minute handling of your cunt, to prove that he’s capable of acting on his own desires, without being mister nice guy and always catering to his girlfriend’s wishes.

panicked by his ‘twenty minute’ confession, you begin to kick weakly at his calves, but you quickly waver in your attempt when it feels good. the both of you groan into each other—you into his palm and he into your ear, your eyes flutter, and your back arches because the kicking inadvertently sparks some deep, oscillating friction of your connected parts.

“fucking god-damnit,” nanami grunts and lets out a deep breath, “you feel so tight, honey. good god.”

your eyes clench shut at his mortifying compliment but your hands pushing at his hip and his hand weaken to a gentle lingering. he’s not even thrusting and you’re already exhausted, growing dizzy even. attempting to cope with intrusion that’s much too large for your smaller body, trying to escape his unfathomable strength, and the emotional turmoil of the situation— it’s all too much for you to continue to resist so adamantly.

nanami is about to whisper into your ear for permission to begin fucking your body with all of his might but he stops himself and huffs, reminding himself of your mothers cruel words before— ‘sometimes a woman just wants to be taken, kento. i want to feel like you desire me so much that you can’t control yourself but you’re too busy asking me for fucking consent!’

your eyes bulge and you cry out under his palm as nanami suddenly launches his hips into a vicious pace with no warning, your ass is rippling and your body is jerking like a fucking doll with every jackhammer. the power behind these ruts would fuck you right off the bed if he wasn’t pushing your lower tummy and face into him. every ram comes with a deep grunt, a drag of his cock against your panicking walls, and a collision to your cervix.

6. thrust roughly— check. ‘fast and hard is the name of the game,’ nanami remembers reading. he’s familiar with soft love making, being attentive of the woman’s every reaction as to be careful and kind. he’s only ever lost a sliver of control when he’s about to cum, unable to hold his harder thrusts back during that time, but it’s never as rough as he’s being right now.

your hands fly out, one dragging on the bed before grabbing at anything within reach while the other is being forced to replace his hand on your lower tunmy before closing his palm on top of yours to keep it there and to steady you.

“can you— shit!— feel that?” nanami growls, his voice unsteady due to the harsh fucking his delivering to you, “this is what you fucking wanted, right?”

you shake your head, hard, with clenched watery eyes, letting out muffled ‘mmm!’s against his hand. despite the fact that you’re shaking your head ‘no,’ answering nanami’s rhetorical question at all only goes to show how fucked out already you are. nanami’s strength behind every single thrust is knocking any sense or logic from your brain.

“let me take you,” nanami breaths out in a quick pant, “let me take you— fuck!— let me take you. give in— shh— give in to me and this fucking cock.”

nanami can hardly believe the words coming out of his own mouth, words he’s only heard when he was a teenager, rolling his eyes at the locker room talk the other boys were engaging in.

the pathetic moan you let strangle out of you and muffle into his palm because of his deprived dirty talk is diabolically immoral. he’s panting and repeating himself like a wild animal, like he’s losing all control as he pries you open and then lets your pussy close up again, over and over and over. it happens so fast, four thrusts in the span of half a second— which you’d think would be too quick to have any power behind it but it does, it’s powerful and it’s swift.

then, every one of your defenses are falling, with no other option or choice, he feels the subtle shift of you pushing your ass into him to meet his hips, the interlocking of your fingers with his on your tummy, and your other hand moving from his on your mouth to the back of his head to rake your nails through his hair. you’ll deal with everything else later, all you can think about now is how to make him wedge deeper so you can get off on his cock.

“god yes,” nanami coos in appreciation, a wave of affection coming over him to join the toe curling pleasure and he finally feels like he’s won you over through your cunt, “there we go, that’s my girl. atta fucking girl— oowh—never felt so goddamn strangled in my life.”

strangling him, you are. he feels it and you can feel it, your pussy is holding onto him like it’s yearning to conjoin your genitals together for eternity.

your eyes roll back as your tits bounce painfully. if you weren’t completely consumed by the most euphoric orgasm of your life—starting in your shaky legs and surging upward until your vision clouds white and your mind blanks—you might notice his shift in tone. the sudden, effortless stream of filthy words spilling from him is a clear sign of his own climax drawing near.

nanami wants to get even deeper when he feels your orgasming cunt squeeze him harder than ever, so he kicks your knee up with his until his leg is nudged between yours and your leg is resting on top of his. you both shudder at how much deeper he’s able to penetrate now. you can feel his swollen balls slap against your overwhelmingly sensitive clit as his grip on your face and tummy turns painful.

“gonna cum,” he grits out directly into your ear before smearing his face into the side of your head like he’s losing control, “‘m gonna blow my fucking load right into your pussy.”

nanami lets out a drawn out, deep disgruntled groan that sounds almost like, ‘wwhuuaah,’ reminiscent of a middle aged man in porn, as his balls rise and begin to twitch in eager preparation. he’s clearly not familiar with the feeling of a twenty two year olds body and moral nanami had never thought about it before anyways.

he sucks in a sharp breath of air with eyes clenched shut before slamming his hips into you once more, all the way up until your flustered cervix and his smiling tip nuzzle together with affection. it’s as if they have a spirit of their own, more than happy to hug and kiss and get familiar with one another in such a sweet way.

when nanami moves his hand away from your mouth, mid jizz, you inhale a large breath of air as if you had been suffocating the entire time. before you can even shout at him to get off of you or not to cum inside of you and then move to the other side of the room and proceed to explain that you are not your mother in a very loud, horrified way as you pull the sweatpants up your shaking legs— you don’t get to do any of that. nanami instead, grips your jaw and yanks you towards his face before sloppily connecting your lips and shoving his tongue all the way into your mouth that at one point, you swear he reached your throat, muffling any shouts you might have had ready.

your eyes are wide as your pupils race back and forth from each of his clenched shut eyes, frozen with your mouth open wide as he tongues it. your free hand that isn’t trapped under his on your tummy falls from his head and spasms mid air as you feel that first aggressive spurt of cum connect to your cooing cervix.

he grunts and groans into your mouth through his orgasm, rocking his hips in a gyration while not pulling out even a little.

suddenly, just when you think it’s all over, you squeal as he slowly but surely pushes you down with his own body weight until you’re flat on your stomach and he’s on top of you, still completely seated inside of you. your mouths disconnect along the way and he falls completely limp against you as the last of his cum spills from him.

you’re gasping for air, aggressively attempting to catch your breath— partly due to his body crushing you and partially because of the absolutely diabolical sex he’s just inflicted on you.

he hisses into your ear as your pussy goes through the involuntary process of pulsing after your orgasm, effectively milking him of the cum he has already given to you. his arms wrap around your midsection and he cuddles into your back.. “wow, fucking wow. that was amazing,” he breathes out as he too attempts to catch his breath, refusing to pull out despite the overstimulation.

nanami is blissfully unaware as he falls into a deep sleep, the only thing on his hazy mind is the happiness that he’s finally shown his ‘girlfriend’ that he can satisfy her.

once you catch your much needed breath, you immediately start to squirm under him as to push him off. you’re completely trapped under him.

“g-get off!” you shout effectively for the first time all night with a scratchy voice, due to all of the moaning and screaming you were doing, “hello? hey asshole! wake up! you’re still— ngh!— inside of me!”

maybe it was the fifth glass of whiskey nanami had drank a few hours ago at the bar with haibara, satoru, suguru, and shoko but he’s already snoring in an old man way that he has no right to be doing at his age of forty. you quickly realize he’s not going to wake up after slapping the man as hard as you can and you go through all the stages of grief until you land on acceptance.

“stupid old man,” you grumble to yourself, a bit bitter about how relaxed your body feels because of the incredible orgasm he’s gifted you. you can’t bring yourself to admit anything past the fact that college boys simply don’t stand a chance in hell after this experience.

you reach around the sheets as much as possible to search for your phone but you can’t find it since it’s somewhere on the floor after being knocked off by nanami’s jackhammering.

you try your hardest to stay awake because imagining your mother coming home to see her boyfriend lying on top of her daughter with his semi hard dick plugging her slippery cunt as they sleep together in her bed sounds more horrifying than if you’re awake when it happens.

but even though you try your hardest to stay awake, a few hours pass and the exhaustion gets to you.

~

when you wake up, that crushing weight on top of you is gone and your sore pussy is empty, though you can still feel that echo of what was once molding the inside.

you cautiously take in the sight of the neatly made bed under you and the sun lit room around it that you grew up identifying as your mom and dads room before rubbing your sleepy eyes harshly. your phone is plugged in on the nightstand beside the clock that reads seven am, and you know for a fact that your mother’s shift ends right about now. that gives you thirty minutes to get the fuck out of her bed.

turning over to lie on your back, you wince at the ache in between your legs. taking a deep breath, you sit up and blink down at your covered legs. you’re wearing a new pair of large sweatpants and the same big shirt that belongs to your moms boyfriend.

you peak into the hem of the sweatpants with a cocked brow and blink at your labia that looks a bit too clean after all the cum that was inserted into it last night.

questioning why the sheets have been somehow changed without waking you up, why your phone is plugged in, l why your sweatpants are changed, or why your pussy is lacking cum is pushed all the way to the back of your mind to keep your priority on getting out of this bed. sure, it seems innocent if your mom comes home and finds you here, likely happy to see you surprise her with your presence, but that happiness won’t last long when she starts questioning where her boyfriend slept if you slept in their bed and all the questions that follow that.

you pull the covers back and stand on jelly legs, wincing once again as your pussy silently cries out. you take your phone and shove it into your pocket and grumble as you limp over to the door. you take a deep breath before peaking your head out and looking both ways down the hall guardedly. the coast seems clear, so you race as quiet as you can over to your childhood room before slipping inside.

you avoid the boxes of paperwork your mom stored in here over the years you’ve been gone and enter the connected bathroom to take a shower. you take the opportunity to find some evidence that you didn’t just dream up a man pummeling into you. you cringe as you stick two fingers inside of your sore, sensitive hole just to be met with strings of cum racing down your knuckles as you hold them in front of your face.

you have no option but to slip back into the same clothes you woke up in. you quickly ruffle up your bed as to make it look like you had slept in it before nodding to yourself and entering the living room.

you halt the second you see the back of a large, neatly gelled blonde man seated at the kitchen island. you remember that blonde hair, but it was much messier when you were scraping your nails through it last night.

the scent of breakfast food is vivid and you can hear the quiet sound of him sipping on something.

you’re frozen, unsure of what to do as you just stand in the archway of the entrance to the kitchen/living room.

nanami’s eyes trail up aimlessly and land on the microwave as he sips his coffee. he does a double take at the reflection of you in it and chokes on the hot liquid before setting it down as to not spill. he almost trips over himself as he stands and faces you, wiping his mouth and clearing his throat after he catches his breath.

you’re expecting an ugly, old man when he faces you since you didn’t get a good look last night, but you’re wrong.

you gulp as you take in how handsome the tall middle aged man is, thin reading glasses on his face and he clearly showered this morning, but he has heavy eye bags that expose his hangover and soft wrinkles that expose his older age. he’s wearing an ironed button up shirt with sleeves rolled up to his elbows, an expensive watch to accentuate his veiny, massive hands, and slacks for bottoms with socks. you immediately get the impression that he doesn’t often wear comfort clothing like the ones you’re wearing of his right now, he’s pristine.

but what catches your eye most is the clear look of guilt on his face and panic brimming just below the surface.

you should feel grossed out by him, but now that you’ve had a very good nights rest after the best orgasm of your life and you’re laying eyes on one of the most beautiful men in town, any anger or discomfort you felt last night has dissipated greatly. you can’t help but let your eyes lag on his clothed cock, which he notices of course, but it only seems to make his mortification grow along with a red blush to his cheeks.

nanami’s taking you in as well, the first thing he notices is the harsh bruising indents of teeth on your neck— his teeth and he immediately wants to repent to a priest. you’re also much smaller than he is, making him mentally curse at himself remembering just how rough he was with you. and of course, he notices how beautiful you are, but in a normal situation where you—a young girl—meets him— an older man— he’d appreciate that you were beautiful for half a second and it would never cross his mind again. but because this isn’t a normal situation at all, your face reminds him of how it felt to hold your mouth closed as he forced himself into your small body, over and over.

a moment passes where you both seem to wait for the other to break the silence. his mouth opens and closes a few times, and your head tilts slightly, watching him with quiet curiosity.

“u-uh hello,” nanami awkwardly greets, clearly unsure of what to do with his hands as they hang on either side of his body, “would you like some.. breakfast?”

nanami’s gaze shifts briefly to the kitchen island before returning to you, prompting you to follow his line of sight. there, three plates of breakfast sit waiting. one is clearly his—half-eaten, with a newspaper folded neatly beside it and a mug that reads, ‘best adoptive dad ever!’ the other two, you assume, are for you and your mother.

you blink at it and then at him before accidentally letting out a snort at the absurdity of the situation, like your mouth had a mind of its own for a second. your hand immediately snaps up to cover your lips as a grimace flickers across nanami’s face, embarrassed with himself for opening the conversation with an offer for bacon, eggs, and pancakes.

nanami mutters a ‘goddamnit’ under his breath, his eyes briefly closing as he tilts his head toward the ceiling, fists clenched at his sides. when he looks back at you, his brows are faintly pinched, his expression heavy with quiet, dutiful sympathy.

“i cannot tell you how sorry i am, i don’t even know what to say—”

“—got any syrup?” you interrupt him casually, walking, well, limping over to the kitchen island where you take a seat in front of one of the plates.

a long beat of silence passes as you take a bite out of the bacon and nanami stands there, stunned.

when you look up at him expectantly, he blinks rapidly, snapping out of his daze. he starts toward the fridge but abruptly changes direction, as if forgetting where things are in his own kitchen. “oh—uh—yes, i believe we do. let me just—” he says, before opening the fridge. his brows knit in concentration as he searches for the syrup.

you watch his tense demeanor with a flicker of an amused twitch to the corner of your lips as you chew, bacon still in hand.

he turns with two options in hand and you hum, considering your options, maybe a bit more leisurely than you should, before you nod at the right one.

he sets the other back into the fridge before placing the one you chose beside your plate, now facing you, standing on the other side of the counter.

you don’t even glance at him as he watches you cautiously, a hint of bafflement in his gaze, like he’s waiting for a pin to drop. instead, you casually pour an obscene amount of syrup onto your pancakes, acting as if last night never happened. the only reminders of his sin are the dark, bruised impressions of his teeth on the side of your neck, the slight limp in your step, and the rag he used to clean your cum stained labia.

his mouth opens and then closes a few times like hes unsure of what to do or say as you take your time eating, all without looking up at him once.

just as he’s about to try speaking again, you look up to gain eye contact and cut him off.

“you fucked me,” you say matter of factly before returning your attention to your pancakes to shove a piece into your mouth and nanami’s face drains of blood, “like, straight up shoved your dick into me while i was sleeping.”

in a regular situation, nanami would never accept this language from a young woman like yourself. but he has to hold himself back from correcting you, you hold all of the cards right now.

“i— i know—” nanami begins with a shaky, terribly serious, apologetic tone but you cut him off again.

“this morning, did you wipe your cum off of my pu—”

now nanami is the one who interrupts you, unable to resist the urge to keep you from saying such a deprived word, “yes— ahem— i did.”

you hum nonchalantly, as if you already assumed so.

a beat of silence.

“and the change of sweatpants?”

he nods and lets out a shaky sigh. “yes, i hope you don’t mind.”

you snicker loudly, which makes his brows furrow in confusion. “you hope i don’t mind if you changed my sweatpants?”

“um— yes,” he says it in a slightly questioning tone, not understanding what you’re getting at.

“i came on your dick and you think i mind if you change my sweatpants?” you laugh, making him blink at you like you’ve just told him he’s terminally ill. nanami hadn’t known what to expect from you, but a young woman who has a dirty mouth that could rival toji’s was not it.

he’s too stunned to tell you that he’s just trying to be polite by saying he hopes you don’t mind, that it’s simply a way of speaking with respect.

another beat of silence as you eat and he manually closes his shocked, parted lips.

“oh, i appreciate the whole foreplay thing, rubbing my clit for— how long did you say?” your brows furrow like you’re thinking back to what he had said last night, “oh yeah, twenty minutes. least you could do before you destroyed my guts— i mean jeez, you’re one strong old man.” you point your fork at him with a snicker when you say the last part.

nanami is surprised he hasn’t collapsed to his knees, his body limp with shock, horror, and utter mortification—every emotion hitting like a theatrical gut punch. your blunt words drive the final nail into the coffin of any fleeting hope that maybe, just maybe, this was all some alcohol-induced nightmare.

he had went in for a good morning kiss upon waking this morning and jumped back with a horror he’s never felt before when he realized the snug warmth he’s buried inside isn’t his girlfriend at all—it’s a much younger woman who bares enough resemblance to her to come to the conclusion that you’re her daughter. the flutter of pleasure when sliding out of your gushy pussy after that realization will haunt him for eternity.

“you know you came inside me, right?” you continue and he isn’t even sure if you had been talking this whole time or not but these words snap him back to reality.

“oh fuck.” nanami’s head spins as his hand flies to clutch his mouth, like he’s about to throw up.

“yeah, oh fuck,” you repeat, chewing and swallowing before a flicker of some kind of realization flashes on your face, “ohhh— you creampied because mom had that hysterectomy, i was wondering why it was so easy for you to just fill me up like that without much thought.”

nanami blinks at you, barely able to process your words and you snort at the flicker of a question on his face when you utter the phrase ‘creampie.’

“damn, how old are you? cream. pie.” you space the words out obviously as to make him connect the dots, “it’s pretty straightforward. you creamed my pie.”

nanami cringes at the phrase and then takes a deep breath, attempting desperately not to pass out.

“a-are you on..?” nanami manages to grit out, pathetically and he feels like a dirty, old man who’s just committed a grave sin that will follow him forever.

you huff a laugh and shrug, “on what?”smiling in utter amusement when his face drops and he braces against the edge of the counter like he’s trying not to fall to the floor with his head tucked down.

you burst out giggling and he looks up at you slowly with slowly blinking eyes as he attempts to make sense of how the fuck it’s funny that he might have just impregnated you.

“i’m fucking with you, old man. i’m on birth control, relax.”

nanami lets out a long sigh of relief with eyes closed before leaning down to rest his elbows on the marble counter with his hands clasped together in front of his face, not in the way someone does when they pray, but more like he’s attempting to cope.

after a long moment of you eating your food pleasantly while nanami’s life and job flashes before his eyes, he gulps at the thought of what comes next and stands up once again. “y-your mother, are you going to—”

before nanami can ask you the terrifying question of if you’re going to tell your mother about this, which he knows you have every right to do so, he’s interrupted by the front door opening.

you mutter a quiet “speak of the devil,” just as the sound of your mother’s keys and the door mask it. nanami straightens up quickly and faces her, his movements so sharp that it’s clear he feels like he’s been caught, even though he’s only standing there while you eat.

“ugh, work was so long,” your mother says as she closes the door, but she pauses mid-sentence, her expression shifting to one of happy surprise as she turns to see you. “honey! oh my! when did you get here?”

you give her a smile back as you stand and give her a hug.

you explain to your mom that you arrived last night, noticing the brief flash of panic on nanami’s face. but as you continue, telling her you fell asleep in your bed, in your old room, waiting for her to come home, nanami visibly relaxes and lets out a quiet, relieved sigh.

your mother’s basically beaming at you, bashfully apologizing for not introducing you to her boyfriend sooner as she guides you to the dinner table. nanami trails behind you both, looking as though he’s lost in a dream. they take their seats side by side across from you.

you brush it off and shrug, making her give you a grateful smile.

you may be skilled at acting nonchalant but nanami has never really had reason to lie in his life, not that he’s even speaking much. he’s pale and stiff, and if he’s not avoiding eye contact with you, he’s staring into your soul as you speak as if to anticipate you exposing what happened between you at any second. your mother notices the odd vibe coming from him and gives him a weird look before returning her gaze to you.

“have you guys met before?”

nanami basically chokes on air, coughing into his hand as he attempts to catch his breath.

“before today, no,” nanami says quickly as he’s still in the midst of clearing his throat, “last night i was just— so tired that i damn near broke the bed— ahem— from, you know, falling into it and going to sleep. so i didn’t have the pleasure of meeting her until this morning.”

your mother blinks at him curiously before you speak up.

“wait,” you blink at him with furrowed concentrated brows, “you do look familiar.. we have met.”

nanami’s eyes flicker wide before moving back and forth from you to your mother and he lets out a deep older man laugh that doesn’t reach his eyes. “huh? no, we haven’t.”

you squint at him like you’re trying to place him before your face lights up, “yeah— wait! haven’t you taught at my school?”

“s-school?” he stutters out loudly, “you’re in highschool?!”

your mother laughs with a confused tilt to her brows as she regards him with a hand to his shoulder, “college, honey. shes too old to be in high school still.”

your mother must not have told him that you existed at all since he didn’t know you were in college. it makes you wonder what he thought your old childhood room was for.

he lets out a huge breath of relief and it’s clear to the two of you that you’re deriving much amusement from making him sweat and he figures he probably deserves it— that and eternal damnation.

nanami tells himself that if he can just get through today and wait until you’re back on the train to college, he can manage this. but when you smile and casually tell your mom you’re thinking of staying for the entire summer— your eyes discretely flicker to him as you add, “if that’s okay with you guys?”

he feels something good and wholesome weaken inside of his soul as his cock jumps.

“of course you can stay, honey! stay as long as you’d like, right kento?” your mother squeezes his knee in a sweet, wholesome way and his heart drops down to his ass when he feels your socked foot brush against the inside of his calf.

nanami gulps and nods at you, “o-of course— as long as you’d like.”

7. start secretly fucking your girlfriends controversially young daughter all summer long— check.

——

His head snaps to the side at the force of your slap, cheek already reddening, though you can't tell if it's from your hand, or the blow to his pride. His jaw clenches, eyes squeeze shut for a moment as his whole body tenses on top of you. You want him to hit back.

"What was that for?" he bites, snapping his hips forward and bottoming out inside of you in response. You're stretched open on his cock, and you can't help but smile at the feeling. He completes you.

"Say it again," you gasp.

"I..." he grabs your face, pinches your cheeks between his fingers and looks you in the eyes. His brows are furrowed. "Are you feeling okay?"

This time you do roll your eyes. His feigned interest in your wellbeing is laughable, considering he was just balls-deep inside of someone else. Someone who doesn't love him like you do. You were here first.

"Come on," you plant your feet on the bed and roll your hips up, fucking yourself on your husband's cock even beneath him. "Tell me you love me, babe. Like you mean it."

"I do mean it," he grunts, finally fucking you back. His strokes are mean, not like the usual slow-and-steady sex you have. Blond hair falls into his eyes, gating the piercing gaze he has on you. "I love you."

You want to close your eyes, but you don't want to miss a second of this view. He's angry — guilty, maybe — and working your body like a stress reliever. Does he know you're aware of his wrongdoings? He's a smart man... surely he's pieced your mood together.

Maybe it's just going to be like this from now on. He'll come home and fuck you hard enough to convince the both of you that everything is okay. Maybe you'll wake up come morning and roll out of bed to call Higuruma, start an affair of your own. Maybe you'll bring him into your bed and make a mess of the sheets for Kento to find later.

You take the back of his neck in your hands and pull him down. He goes in for the kiss, thinking that's what you want, but you turn his head and lick the side of his cheek instead. Mark your territory.

You nibble at his earlobe, bathing in the way it has his cock throbbing inside of you, before you move down to his neck. You suck and bite and lick over his throat, mark him so lewdly that he won't possibly be able to hide your affections with some stolen concealer out of your makeup bag. He's going to wear your marriage on his skin, and he'll do it with the pride of a man whose wife fucks him through his infidelities.

And whoever it is that has been keeping his cock warm in your absence might run her tongue over the marks you left, but she will do so knowing that, at the end of the day, Kento comes home to you.

When he comes, it's with a loud moan and a shudder that runs through his entire body. He spills himself inside of you, right where he belongs.

But you don't let him stop. Again, you anchor your feet against the bed and fuck up against him. The squelch of his cum-covered cock socketing in and out of you again and again fills the room, as does his increasingly loud protests of overstimulation.

"Honey, honey," he grits out, but his hips still jolt into you. "Stop. It's... I'm sensitive. I'll finish you with my mouth."

"Sensitive already?" You pant. "You can usually take me for a few rounds... what, have you already come today or something?"

Something warring flashes in his eyes. Yeah.

"No," he groans, through it turns into more of a cry as you roll your hips up again and again. He could stop you if he really wanted — force your hips to still. "Course not. I just... please."

"Please what?"

His eyes meet yours. He looks almost frantic. "Stop. I don't know. Fuck."

"Come on, Kento," you moan, chasing your release. It's cresting. "Wanna milk you dry. Wanna make sure that when you stay late to fuck your mistress tomorrow, you've got nothing left to give her."

His eyes go wide. His jaw slackens, in shock or overstim you aren't sure, but the look on his face is something you've never seen him wear before. He licks his dry lips, tries to form any sort of argument in his favour, but you're so tight around him and he's still so fucking hard.

Maybe in an attempt to force his mind away from your words, he doubles down and pushes through the pain of overstimulation to crack his hips against yours. He practically splits you in half with the new depths he reaches, eyes locked onto your knowing ones as he fucks you deep and fast and panicked.

Your orgasm washes over you with more force than it has in a long time. You cry out, practically convulsing beneath him. Your thighs shake, back arches up off the bed to meet his body atop yours.

Your orgasm betrays your humility. You should never let him lay eyes on your body again, let alone chase another milking orgasm inside of you, but you do.

˖ ࣪꒰ PROFESSOR SATORU ꒱ ˙˖ knew that his validation meant everything to you. now you weren't his top student, weren't the object of his praise. no more mouthed “atta girl”s or treating you to your favourite restaurant after another stellar score.

you were struggling to get by. scraping to get back to your straight a's. to achieve even a hint of his favour.

you never did. it was a downhill spiral. and everyone knew what an asshole professor gojo could be. so of course no one batted an eye when he belittled you in class.

“guess I expected too much,” he'd sigh after calling out your marks for the last test. he didn't have to. but you knew what he did.

as he leaned back in his chair with his arms behind his head. cutting that stare that you'd grown to flinch at over.

“so much for star student, huh? try better next time. know you can do it.”

he knew you could.

but knew you wouldn't. not now that you were spiralling.

not when you weren't his favourite girl anymore.

˖ ࣪꒰ PROFESSOR SATORU ꒱ ˙˖ caught you outside at the steps that day. night time. you probably spent all afternoon in the library studying to make up for the embarrassment. for your sin of slipping in your grades. he knew you would. knew how you operated.

knew you'd be all teary as you walked down the steps with your hand tight on your book bag. trying to ignore him.

“awww baby. what's wrong? you crying?”

you didn't flinch when satoru caught up to you. when he cradled your face in that way he knew you loved to be comforted. bit back a grin as you resisted the urge to press your head into his palm and fall into his arms.

“oh c'mon. you crying over me? didn't say anything bad. you know how I operate.”

all low and gentle. in that voice he used when he used to tutor you and you just couldn't grasp what he was saying. like you were his silly girl. his sweet girl.

long fingers slipped around your jaw. gripped on your cheeks and squished them as he tilted your head up. towering over you but leaning over so that his white strands tickled your tears.

“don't look like that, princess.” he muttered. pressing a firm kiss into your lips and smearing your gloss. not tender, but taunting. not comforting, but still charming enough to have you whimpering and clinging to his shirt.

and as he pulled back, a grin split his lips still hovered over yours. half-hung lashes batting at your falling tears.

“just try harder next time, yeah?”

before he patted your cheek and you left you stranded on the stairs.

˖ ࣪꒰ PROFESSOR SATORU ꒱ ˙˖ knew that you needed him in more ways than one. not only did he soothe that insecurity in your heart but he also sealed the hole in your wallet. and now? he knew you were struggling. you didn't order out as much. didn't have the luxury to. you walked back to the dorm. lifts must be costly. you sure as hell didn't have your nails done every other week. he missed the acrylics and blue you'd insist on. but hey— you made your bed.

didn't mean that he didn't feel sorry for you when he spotted you at your favourite cafe. probably ordering a tea like you did now. not your favourite sweet treat and hot chocolate.

yeah. it was pity. definitely not the need to remind you what you were missing— as he called to the barista from behind you. “get the lady a hot chocolate and a strawberry crepe, please?”

as he leaned over your stiffening form, arm grazing yours as he slid his black card over. murmuring a soft, “I've got you, sweetheart,” to your ear when the barista turned.

you let him sit with you that day. spoke to him properly for the first time in months. even if you couldn't hold his eye contact. even if you thanked him a hundred times and over.

while he gave you a gentle look, inwardly? he was grinning.

bingo.

˖ ࣪꒰ PROFESSOR SATORU ꒱ ˙˖ knew he had you slowly wrapping around his finger again. that's why he had no shame when he leaned back in his couch that day. remembering your weight in his lap. swiping through his folder that he refused to delete. full of your pretty body, your slutty expressions and your messy thighs.

that's why he didn't feel bad as his hand wrapped around his hard dick that slapped back on his tummy, smearing some pre on his abs.

why he groaned your name without care as he squeezed in his angry tip. remembered the way you'd whine as he rubbed it on your little clit. how you'd cry out as he kissed it in your cervix.

fuck. he remembered how your thighs would quiver for him. how that smart mouth of yours would reduce to a babbling, stuttering, slutty whimper of his name as he ragdolled you on his cock.

his hand sped. his other swiping to your contact. you hadn't blocked him. it's your fault for the voice note you'd receive. of his harsh grunts and his rasped gasps accompanying that wet shlick shlick shlick.

of his voice, groaning your name low like it was both his sin and salvation.

“sweetheart, fuck. look at what you do to me— fuck. still work me up so fuckin' much even when you aren't mine. miss your pretty pussy. miss my sweet girl so soooo bad."

he'd whine. he remembered how much you like that. liked hearing him lose himself as he slammed all the way in and rutted as he frothed you up.

now? it was all over his hand. and he made sure the voice note heard just how much he wished it was in your sweet little cunt instead.

˖ ࣪꒰ PROFESSOR SATORU ꒱ ˙˖ expected you to not answer him. but you still didn't block him. still didn't report him. you wouldn't. you loved him too much. loved the thought of him. did you think that while you touched yourself to his voice note?

he knew you did. knew you didn't get yourself that. knew you probably sat there playing with your cute clit and whining his name all pitifully as you tried so desperately to cum the way he'd make you squirt back then. back when you were his.

you know what else he expected? you to storm into his office and accuse him of marking you down purposefully. your mid term marks were sent out that morning. he made sure of it. made sure you'd have to face the man, your ex, who sent you a five minute long voice note of him fisting his big cock to you.

“such accusations, sweet girl.” satoru drawled, lazy, as he leaned his head on his hand and his elbow on the desk.

“if you think so, I'm not opposed to you sitting with me while I mark your next assignment. I've got the next stack set for this afternoon. wanna come confirm your claims?”

his brow arched. his diamond eyes invited you. his velvet voice dared you.

and you did. of course you did. he expected that too.

his fourth expectation? that you'd find your way in his lap. with that skirt he loved so much. with your thighs slotted over his knee and his hand cradling your ass while his other graded papers.

you were soaking through his pants. he could feel it. the same way he felt you tremble as he flipped to your assignment. squeezed your ass and bounced his knee to grind up on your cunt.

“those poor panties must be so drenched, huh pretty?” he crooned to your ear, squishing you down onto his bounces and grinds. enjoying your whimpers. your whines as your hands fisted on his shirt.

“look at that,” he pouted, dragging the edge aside of your panties aside so that your clit ground perfectly on the fabric of his pants. “such a slutty student. think this is gonna get you extra credit?”

swat! his fingertips came down in your clit. his leg bounced again to force your needier grinds.

he grinned. cruel and cold on your ear as the sharp strokes of his red pen sliced through the air.

“mm. you're gonna need it. my sweet girl's become a stupid girl in my absence.”

he laughed as you whipped around. as you looked over. saw your assignment littered in red.

and the worst thing is? as he unbuckled his belt and manhandled you over his thighs so your back faced his chest to give you a better look— as his cock slapped on your cunt and dwarfed your folds as he slid between them. as his tip rubbed on your clit in that same way that had you trembling—

you saw it.

saw that he wasn't marking you down in any way that you didn't deserve.

and as his cock plunged in and your back through in an arch. as he snatched your waist and bounced your little cunt on his cock that split you open and had you creaming in seconds. . .

he taunted you. squishing your thighs and biting on your ear. “poor girl. poor, stupid girl.”

˖ ࣪꒰ PROFESSOR SATORU ꒱ ˙˖ wasn't even surprised when he got a call the next week. an internship at that institution you'd always prattle so excitedly about. poor you. you probably thought just because he had you in his lap and called you his sweet girl— just because you were his once upon a time, that he wouldn't give you a bad reference to the job of your dreams, huh?

poor, sweet, stupid girl.

he was beginning to like your tears. your eyes looked pretty when they were glossed and your lashes were all damp. as you blinked up at him after you burst into his office again. face blotched and hands clenched.

“how could you?” you croaked. “I— you know how important that is to me—”

“you were important to me too.”

“that's not the point! so what you sabotaged me because I broke up with you? what don't you get satoru? we can't do this! what kind of person would—”

you trembled so prettily when he stood. when shook his head with a sigh and slipped his glasses into his hair.

“sweetheart, sweetheart," he tutted, circling his desk and backing you into it once he got in front of you.

“you don't get it, do you?” there's that condescending tone again. the one he used because to him, you were just his dumb, naïve girl.

big hands came down on the edge of the desk that you pressed into. trapping you against the wood and his wickedness as he leaned over. towering you as always. face pressing closer. brows pinched and knitted upwards. face that mockery of sympathy.

“baby, sweetheart, my sweetest girl. here's the thing.” his lips brushed yours. you tensed. teary eyes wide and staring into his.

“I realised. I'm not a good person when it comes to you.”

velvet and diamond. smooth and cutting. like it was simple fact. a set fate.

his head crooked. glasses slipping down his nose and brutal blues pinning you from over the rim.

“y'know. if you come back to me, you wouldn't have to worry about all this. . .”

his sly fingers brushed your hair back. a kiss pressed to your temple.

“I'd take care of you.”

˖ ࣪꒰ PROFESSOR SATORU ꒱ ˙˖ knew you were on the brink. knew it wouldn't take long before you were in his arms again. he just had to wait. even when his fingers ached for your skin. when his lips burned for yours. when his palms itched to just grab you by the waist and drag you back to him cause you were such a stubborn girl.

but he'd wait. wait for you to make the decision. wait for you to realise that you were always his and he was the best you ever had.

so you could imagine his grin when you stayed back after class. when you stood in front of his desk with your eyes batting at him. hesitant. shaky. when you asked him for extra credit in his class that you were now borderline failing. but most of all, when you offered your pretty body to him without him even uttering a word.

this is what he meant. what he waiting for. for you to make the moves. to miss him. to want him.

he fucked you into your dorm bed that night. with your face shoved down and your fingers clinging to your pillow. ass clapping and brushing with his brutal thrusts that smacked his heavy balls on your folds. cock splitting you open and spilling your creamy mess all over the wrinkled sheets.

his hand in your hair. his voice rough in your ear.

“like that, sweetheart? want it like that?” he grinned, feral and cruel as you mewled when he angled right. shoved into a sweetspot and ground so filthily until your eyes rolled back as you drooled his name into the pillow.

“missed how I fucked you— right here?”

“r-right there! please!”

“uhuh? righhhttt here?”

he drawled. hand smacking down on your ass and leaving a sting, before he reached around. pinching and pulling on your spasming clit. as he slammed! all the way in. jamming his hips with yours and rutting on your messy, creaming folds. so a lewd, clickclickclick muffled from your overly-stuffed cunt.

“fuck—” satoru rasped. eyes wild and dilated as his fingers bunched your hair tighter. shoved your face further into the pillow. “take it. take this cock like you were born to. like this slutty cunt missed it.”

he missed your squirts. missed your sobs. missed the way your hand tried to scramble back and grip on his hair as he pummelled your pussy all raw and rough into the ruined sheets.

his eyes fluttered back as you squeezed him again. as you struggled on his name and squirmed beneath him.

“s-sato— sat— hngh.”

“say it, sweetheart.” he grit, twisting your head up. slamming his hips faster. bouncing your body on the bed and slamming the headboard into the wall. making your cunt all puffy and his cock all creamy in your cum.

“say my name. say you missed it. tell me whose pussy this is.”

“satoru— toru! toru torruuuu.”

“and don't you ever—” he whined, cock plunging deep as the knot within him snapped. as he frothed him up the way he's been missing. lashes fluttering and eyes rolling back. a filthy, wet, thrust smacked on your bruising ass emphasised every word.

“— ever. fucking. forget it.”

˖ ࣪꒰ PROFESSOR SATORU ꒱ ˙˖ thought you would have came back to him after that, but he guessed you were more stubborn than he gave you credit for. that's fine. you just needed one more push. one more and then you'd be back where you finally belonged: in his arms.

so, yeah. he was responsibly fucking pissed when he saw you chatting up the campus fuckboy. hell— when he heard rumours that you two were a thing.

but he calmed himself down. enough to not snatch you by the wrist in the hallway and shove you into a wall. kiss you until your knees trembled. shoved his tongue into your mouth for all to see until he lost his job. that what you wanted? wanted him to be ruined for you?

calmed himself down enough to wait until the day ended. so he could back you into an empty corridor's corner. his hand on your jaw. tilting your face up. so that you could stare into the eyes of the man who had you squirting all over his cock just a few weeks ago. the man who was always yours no matter how much you tried to admit otherwise.

“you know he's not me, right?” he spoke, that nonchalance breaking for the first time in these wretched months you've been apart from him.

he leaned close. didn't kiss you. not your lips, but your temple. as he stared you down. cold. calloused. a warning cracked in those brutal blues.

“he'll never treat you like me. never know how to handle a sweetheart like you.”

his voice shook. breath thinned.

and for the first time since you left him, satoru shattered.

not pitifully, not pathetically, not violently nor catastrophically—

but sharp. and soft. and the kind of breathlessly that made you think his lungs were giving out— as he slumped over you. free hand trembling on the wall right beside your head. still holding your face. cradling it now.

“guys your age won't treat you like I do baby. not like you deserve.”

his thumb brushed your lower lip. he whispered. raw and wrecked.

“won't love you like I do. I love you sweetheart. I fucking love you. don't leave me here.”

˖ ࣪꒰ PROFESSOR SATORU ꒱ ˙˖ really underestimated your stubbornness. your resolve. he was almost proud when you shoved him off and he let you go. when you walked away from him.

fine. he just had to wait a little longer. a little longer and you'd come back to him.

next week. a friday night. a phone call.

he didn't blink when he saw your name. when he answered. when he heard your soft, choked sob.

his voice melted into tenderness. soothed your cries. asked you where you were. came and picked you up, because he always would. you'd always be his sweet girl, after all.

satoru warned you about that guy. so he wasn't surprised when he pulled up to the street that you were dropped off on. in the middle of the night. cold and alone. all teary eyes and trembling knees. wasn't surprised when you scrambled into his car and clung to the jacket he gave you.

he listened. as he always did. listened as you cried and ranted and raved about how that guy broke your heart several times tonight. then kicked you out of his car and left you stranded. like you were nothing.

he took you into his arms. as he always did. took you into his arms after he cradled you into his apartment. held you close as you clung to him. hiccuping into his chest and sobbing into his shirt. apologising, crying, apologising, sobbing.

apologising.

begging.

“ssshhh I've got you sweet girl.” strong arms looped you closer. cradled you in that protective warmth with one hand cupping the back of your head and the other one your hip. as he hushed your cries. assured you. squeezed your hip and whispered so tenderly.

“I've got you no sweetheart. not gonna let you go again, okay? I promise baby.”

˖ ࣪꒰ PROFESSOR SATORU ꒱ ˙˖ who cradled your head closer and pressed his lips to the top of your head.

who held your close. who promised to never let you go.

who slipped his phone out of his pocket and held it up behind your head. still cradled by his other, big hand. with his soft kiss still on your hair.

his thumb slid across the screen.

transaction completed.

the final half paid to that bum of a guy you insisted on. who broke your heart for some cash. funny how a little bit of money was all you needed to have your way.

and as satoru held your close. with his arms snuggling you to his chest, and his eyes finally fluttering shut. he relished.

because yeah. you're finally back into his arms. just needed a little nudge.

© 𝒔𝒘𝒆𝒆𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒂𝒓𝒕𝒊𝒄𝒊𝒔𝒎. no plagiarism or ai training authorised. divider: @/cursed-carmine. art cred: @/_teaforgods (ig).

He's a tease, which you didn't expect from a man so put-together. He likes watching you burn up as he unravels you. So you meet his gaze and take in the pink dusting across his nose and cheeks, the mess of blond that brushes over his forehead — he's just as needy as you are.

"It doesn't have to be true," you flit your gaze to the tray on the bedside. On it is a champagne bucket, a 'congratulations on your marriage!' placard, and his wedding ring. "I just want to pretend. We're in a honeymoon suite after all, I want to..."

He catches your drift. There's this unspoken language between you that you think might only be born from doing such a heinous thing together. You're partners; whether that's in crime or romance is a moot point. You feel like an old married couple anyway. He knows you; knows why you're suddenly so shy, knows when and how you need to come, knows what you'll order from room service once he's done with you.

"You want to be my wife?" He searches your face. You feel his cock throb inside of you, twitching at the thought of having you in name as well as body. "Hm, Mrs. Nanami?"

Yes. God, yes. You feel naive and heart-eyed looking to be thoroughly owned by an unfaithful man like him, but your cunt is tight and pulsing around him — you couldn't lie to him about your needs even if you wanted to.

"You know," he starts, his voice rough as he pulls out of your just long enough to reach over and take his wedding ring from the bedside table. "I come home some nights and half expect to see you waiting for me in bed."

Kento grabs your left hand and slips his ring onto your finger. It's too big, and he has to close his hand around yours to keep it in place, which pushes the metal into your skin. You feel lightheaded with want.

"I wish it was me," you whisper, skin burning as he lines his cock up once again and pushes home. "That you come home to."

He moans, burying himself inside of you and his face in your neck. "It is. Come on, love, live in it. I love you."

"Fuck," you exhale, lungs on fire. He quickens his pace, fucking into you with a snapping of his hips. You can hear yourself squelching around him. "Love you too. You feel so good."

"Is that why you married me?" He snorts, teasing. He pulls back enough to press a kiss to your lips. "For the time spent between my sheets? I thought we had more going for us, honey."

You reach up with your free hand and stroke the side of his face, revelling in the feel of slight stubble beneath your palm. "I have to keep you interested somehow, hm?"

His eyes blaze with something untelling. Dipping down again, he licks at your lips. You part them, let his tongue venture in and explore your mouth, running over your teeth and drooling spit from his mouth to yours. It's messy and gross and he pulls away to leave a streak of saliva across your chin, but your stomach curls with a pending orgasm regardless.

"You," he smears his spit over your lips, "have nothing to worry about."

"No?" You buck your hips up from the plush mattress and wrap your thighs around his waist, locking them at his ass and using that embrace to pull him deeper. "You'd be okay with just me, for the rest of your long life?"

"Our long life," he corrects, flexing forward until he's so deep inside of you that there's no space left to give. "And yes. 'Til death do us part, my love. I want to sink into this beautiful body of yours until the very end."

You snort. He's poetic, for a businessman.

He fucks you long and slow and deep with thrusts that are more intimate than pleasure-seeking. It doesn't feel like a torrid affair, and you don't feel sick for sleeping with a married man. Because, even if it's just for your time spent beneath him, he's yours.

And maybe he's parroting the same words he told his real wife back to you. He could be a rakehell, depositing his cum inside of you with no care for the heart he holds in his hands.

But at the end of his long days, it's you he sneaks away to see. It's your body in which he finds his comfort. Your tits that he sucks on. Your mouth that he feeds his cock into. Your cunt that he fills again and again with an unspoken hope that maybe something will stick, and he'll have an excuse to come clean and start anew with you.