Woof Meow

Soon enough, you’re rovering your heel ambly up and down the plane of his thighs, up and down, up and down—in nothing but a mere graze. 

The tips of his ears scorch red as he feels his smart, smoothened trousers getting tighter n’ tighter by the second. Nanami fights not to let his gaze dart downwards, he fights—but the slightest sensation of your heel inching closer, and he cracks.

Soon enough, your stare follows.

And you’re letting out a curious hum as you take in the bulge he was embarrassingly sporting. 

“Oh? What’s this?” He damn-near flinches at the tone of your voice - so mockingly innocent. Nanami knew better- he knew so much better. “My portfolio never said you were such a pervert, Agent 7:3.”

He spits out, “No-”

“Yes.”

And he’s always loved those jet-black, barrel-black, heels of yours- honestly! 

They sat collecting dust in a corner of your half of the closet, and he always did think they contrasted perfectly with his pale-green suits. 

Though, he did often wonder when you’d bring them out.

He just never could’ve expected this…

Nanami lets out a pained hiss- letting his head drop backwards ever-so-slightly as you’re stepping down even harder. “Hard?” Your smile widens, feeling him throb and twitch beneath your heel. “Getting even harder? How did we ever get here, hubby—?”

How did you two ever get here, indeed.

.

.

.

Nanami remembers the pre-mission briefing perfectly- he always was told he had a photographic memory. However, the details of this particular day stand out so crystal clear in his brain that it was almost too sharp; like a rusty nail, or the point of your heel.

It’d been a sunny Thursday, even though daylight never pierced the headquarters of JISE (Japanese Intelligence Services’ Eastern-focused division). Nanami - though he wasn’t Nanami Kento, here, he was Agent 7:3 - had done this same song and dance, song and dance, song and dance over a hundred times already. It was routine as he flipped through the thick file that’d been slid over to him.

Agent Corpse [CONFIDENTIAL—Yaga Masamichi] sat with his arms crossed and a grim expression upon him that he wore nearly as much as his sunglasses. He waited patiently as Nanami finished reading through the miniscule blocked typing and looked up at him.

“So…” He started, neatly closing the file. “The mission seems standard, I don’t see why I would have any trouble with it.”

Yaga sighed and pushed his shades up, “It’s not the intelligence-gathering I see you having trouble with, rather it’s the…social aspects.”

Nanami raised a blond brow, “Social?”

“This mission-” Yaga sternly tapped the top of the file, “This isn’t one of your lone wolf operations, 7:3. To get close to the head of the Zenin family, you need to take on more roles than one. A family man. A father. A husband.”

The blond man steeped in his silence as his higher-up continued. 

“You need to really live in this role, Kento—” He was startled - Yaga almost never called him that. Through his dark sunglasses, the older man’s eyes twinkled. “You need to believe it.” 

“I…”

Without waiting for the rest of his sentence, he flicked open the file to a comprehensive list of potential orphanages and single women around his age in Tokyo: the building blocks to his faux-family. “Two people here will be counting on you to believe in your role.” Yaga spoke low, “And whatever that means for them after this mission is over…” This was always the hardest part. “From now onwards, consider yourself a husband and father before a spy. First and foremost.”

Nanami had never carried out a mission that involved other people.

And there was silence that stretched taut and nearly snapped- before Nanami answered in the only way he knew he could. 

He looked at nanami with steely brown eyes, “Respectfully, I am the best spy in all of Japan’s Eastern Division for a reason, sir.”

Yaga slammed the file shut. It resounds louder than it should’ve - and there was the slightest smile twitching at his lips. “Good.”

For the good of the nation. 

The days thereafter weren’t what Nanami would consider a blur—rather a list of procedures pertinent to his mission, of which he went through them all step by step, strictly and methodically. An exercise so tried and tired by him that he could do them in his sleep (he always slept with one eye open).

First, he rented out a nice home in suburban Shibuya, a spy’s-distance away from the Zenin ancestral home. It was a cosy cookie-cutter home for the cosy cookie-cutter life that he supposes normal civilians have the privilege to live, with cookie-cutter welcome mats and a patch of green garden from which sprouted a spare sprig that one could never be too sure wasn’t plastic. It had a dog home, too. Not because of any request or seeking from Nanami’s side, but because most families that lived in such a place owned one.

So he went out and adopted a shelter dog to keep up with appearances. 

And how to explain the mysterious funds to the nosy neighbors? Well, his cover story of living in Denmark because of his grandfather’s side could only hold up for so long - Nanami got a cover job as a psychiatrist at the nearest affluent hospital. And then…

Then came the slightly difficult part.

Nanami Kento had done research on twenty-one different orphanages in Tokyo and several more outside before he’d finally landed in Sendai. And that was where he met Itadori Yuji.

Name: Itadori Yuji.

Age: 6 [March 20th]

Family: None alive. His parents died shortly after his birth [cause unknown], and he was taken care of by his paternal grandfather - his only living family - until he, too, passed from illness [lung cancer].

Other: Has been rehomed four times in the four-month span that he’s been living at the institution. Gets along well with others, cheerful disposition—is generally a good kid, though he seems to have trouble finding a guardian that can handle his energy. No matter how much they tease and taunt him - in the cruel, unknowingly callous way of children - Itadori still attempts to engage with them day after day, particularly with his tiger toy. He just needs some love. 

Nanami’s stern eyes lingered on that last word. 

He looked up from the sheet that the caregiver had handed to him. It was the first one that he’d been given- and by the sheer speed at which they had, he assumed that they’d been more than eager to get rid of the pink-haired little boy. Nanami glanced around the cream-colored room; small and cardboard-strong. This was a shady place.

He makes note of its location and organization to pass over to Yaga later. 

Under the rim of the paper, he could see two small shoes getting scuffed on the carpet.

And as he puts it down to stare at Itadori, the boy raises his tiger toy upwards. An offering.

Wide chocolate eyes and trembling lips.

He looked as if he was about to cry.

Nanami doesn’t take the offering—though he did crouch down and reach his hand out to clasp one chubby, cotton-stuffed hand, he mimicked shaking hands. “It’s very nice to meet you, Mr. Tiger.” Albeit a little stiffly - Nanami somewhat awkwardly attempted to smooth his features down to something warm as he looked at the boy then. “And who might you be?”

He’s never seen a smile wider.

And thus, everything was going according to plan.

There was the slightest hiccup when it turned out that Itadori Yuji needed tutoring - a lot of tutoring - that Nanami pored and labored over until he was seeing fractions in his nightmares, before he could complete the entrance exam for Jujutsu Academy. But he got in—by some cosmic miracle, Itadori Yuji got in. 

He’s never been prouder- as a fake father, of course. 

Everything really was going to plan. First came the baby, then came the prestigious school acceptance to get Itadori to form an acquaintance with Fushiguro Megumi, then came the marriage. 

A little out of order, he knows.

And then after bumping into you at the local bakery he often frequented, he knew he’d found his future wife.

Not in a romantic way—he swears! 

He swears.

“Oh…you dropped this.” You’d caught his attention in that gentle tone of yours. 

Dropping down, you’d handed him an embroidered handkerchief he’d dropped during the collision - his favorite item to carry, in addition to the fact that it had a slip of poison stuffed between the folds. One he’d been planning to use on one of the Zenin elders just today…

What would he have done without you?

Similarly crouching before you straightened yourself, Nanami had met your eyes tenderly as he took the poisoned handkerchief from you. “Thank you…and your name?”

You’d looked down shyly as you answered. Venom at your fingertips.

He killed a man that evening and could only think about you the entire time- in the best way.

Name: Well, he’d turned it over and over in his mind until it was practically emblazoned.

Age: You never ask a lady her age.

Occupation: Clerk at Tokyo City Hall.

Family/ friends: None of note.

Looks: Perfect.

And Nanami was never a romantic type of man to begin with - it was always work, work, work, espionage. And after a long, hard day of his duties (spying was surprisingly not as thrilling as the movies made it seem) he rarely had the time to think about anything more than that. Something…beyond just his responsibilities.

Something in the future. 

He knew he wanted to retire, some day, but that was in a future he didn’t care to set a date on. Setting a date on it made it seem more real.

A picket-fence. A garden. A dog running around that he pretended to grumble at. The pitter-patter of small feet and the laughing of the one that followed it—all while he watched from the front porch. Flashes of such nonsense have run through his mind; but only in the dead of night when he could pass those off as fever dreams. And pretend to forget them in the morning. 

And so Nanami Kento got married.

It was a hasty affair - about a week after he met you. Three dates and one introduction to Itadori later (it was important he liked you…because how else would the ruse of a happy family be believable?) and you were submitting a form of marriage registration to the very City Hall you worked at. New to the neighborhood, you didn’t have a lot of friends nor family to invite, which just made Nanami’s just so much easier.

To your coworkers, however, it had garnered the most amusing reaction.

Nanami had been present for a work function of yours, when you’d mustered up your courage and commented to one of your associates that he wasn’t just your boyfriend, and then you’d showed them the ring. He’s never seen more smug jaws dropped.

It’s then that he’d decided you were actually rather humorous. Humorous enough that perhaps this mission, despite its unknowing collaborators, won’t be too hellish after all…

Perhaps he’d even have a decent time playing pretend.

Before he has to leave it all - the home, the doghouse, the dog and the kid who’d be rehomed with a loving family he handpicks, and you.

.

.

.

One week before the marriage. 

“You understand that he will be the most difficult target you’ve yet to encounter?”

“I understand.”

“You understand that he is highly-trained, highly-experienced, and dangerous?”

“I understand.”

The masked higher-up straightens and snarls at your assertiveness, “You understand that your mission is not over until you’ve succeeded in assassinating Nanami Kento?”

“I understand.” But no matter how much they attempt to deter you - you’re keeping your head held as high as ever. Hands behind your back. Dagger cutting through the dim lighting with its malicious glints. After so many years in this profession, you can only grow as miserable and nerve-wracked to an extent before every target simply becomes a job.

More than that; you fume silently as those damn higher-ups at the Garden underestimate you.

The Garden was a group of specially-trained assassins operating predominantly within inner-Tokyo, though you did branch off to other wards when required. And of them all, you were their #1: the best of the best, a kill count that you’d stopped measuring, the one they sent on only the most hazardous missions. 

There was a reason you’d been nicknamed The Phantom.

Playboys. Politicians. Athletes and singers—you’ve seen it all. The good and the bad. The deserving and perhaps the undeserving- though you never pondered upon it.

They were all the same faceless, breathless targets to you. And your dagger always hit bullseye.

Sometimes, however…sometimes you did wonder what the bigger ripples of your jobs were. Would anyone search for them? Would anyone notice? Would anyone cry nor care? Was this, perhaps, what stopped you from finally leaving this damn place - were you deserving of such leniency?

Sometimes you did wonder whether you withheld from the simple pleasures in life because you were punishing yourself, in a way. A family. A hearth. A home. But a guilty assassin was no better than one of their own targets - there are more ways to die than just in the physical. 

And so you didn’t think about it.

You didn’t do anything but glare at the higher-up that sat behind his desk, his papers, and his smooth white mask. Who were they to undermine you? “I have never failed a mission before, and I will never fail a mission ahead. I will take this job and complete it before you even know what’s happened.”

He lets out a wheezing chuckle- it was abnormal for them to be so flippant about your success rate when it comes to a job. “That’s the spirit.” He throws over a paper-thin file, “You’ll need it.”

You’ve taken down spies before- hell, you’ve even taken down other assassins. To have him act so dubious about this job? Jolting a step towards him, it really made you wonder about the nature of this particular target…

And so you’re flipping through the single page of information the Garden had on him.

Case 143

Codename: Agent 7:3 [rumored to be linked to the target’s impeccable ability to find the weakest points when attacking any building, vault, or person.]

Name: Nanami Kento.

Age: 27

Height: 6’1 - 6’2

Looks: Blond hair. Hazel eyes. Fine features. Broad-shouldered and fairly toned, he is known to be partial to suits and other clean-cut clothes above anything else. 

Profession: Secret agent.

Family: Unknown.

Residence: Unknown.

Current mission: Unknown.

Status: Currently active and HIGHLY DANGEROUS.

Those last two words had been underlined twice.

But you were determined. 

In the time assigned to you by the higher-ups, you deduced that you’d have about three attempts. 

What’s that saying about keeping your friends close but your enemies closer? You wondered whether there was anything in there about marrying them.

.

.

.

First attempt.

Long-distance sniping wasn’t exactly the most comfortable technique. 

Then again, perhaps you were just experienced enough to worry about such a thing. You’d be lucky.

You’re laid low on your front; against the slightly-damp rooftop of a building between SHIBUYA SKY and Shibuya Hikarie. The cold, hard floor pushed against your body and lifted you meters overlooking the scramble below—humans, animals, cars, all in a symbiotic collision of which contact never happened. 

You’ve been married to Nanami Kento for about a week now.

And in that week you’ve taken note of his routine, his work hours, his favorite stops along the route…home. All under the guise - the guise - of being his considerate wife. 

And it’d turned out to be a worthy sacrifice in the end once you’d discovered that the stoic, sensible Agent 7:3 had what you’d never have expected of him: a sweet tooth. Everyday after work, no matter how tired he is, he’d stop by the bakery he met you in—picking out a few treats to bring home to you and Itadori. 

It was a cosy establishment squatted on a corner of Shibuya Crossing and next to the apothecary; vines creeping down the sides, wide-open wooden doors, and decorated with luscious baked goods in the window. The only reason you yourself had gone there was to manufacture a meeting with Nanami. But here he was right now, seated in a window booth with a book in his hands. Gold-rimmed glasses on his nosebridge. Legs stretched out beneath the table. Blond brows furrowed just a little as his eyes scanned the page.

He looked almost like something out of a movie. Perhaps he couldn’t have looked more unassuming if he tried. 

You’re letting your gaze linger on him through the rifle scope for a few seconds. 

And it’s in this brief pocket of time that Nanami sets his book down, takes off his glasses, and looks through the window straight in your direction. Yours. 

You startle.

You take perfect aim at his head and shoot.

BANG!

Meanwhile, Nanami Kento is having a quiet relaxation - a rare moment. His ‘job’ as a psychiatrist kept him more busy than he would have expected, on top of using the position to spy on the vast Zenin members that flitted in and out of the hospital sometimes. He was about halfway through the last story of The King in Yellow, marking down notes on the Zenins in its margins, when he straightens up and glances down at his watch.

Humming to himself at the time, Nanami gathers his things and looks up at the sunny sky above. It was a beautiful day.

Thus, in prim, precise movements, he’s getting up - not too fast - and making his way to the counter to tip the serving staff extra.

CRASH!

Nanami’s taken just a single step away from where the bullet surely would have struck him—a honed head of metal that shatters the Tokyo atmosphere at over 1200 meters per second. With a deafening cracking sound, it makes the bakery window burst beneath its pressure, sending shards of glass flickering in his direction; Nanami steadily puts his open book down and lets the fragments hit the leather cover instead of him. 

There’s a scream.

And then there’s chaos.

People running. Children crying. Cars stopping on the road. No one was hurt in the least - if anything, it was just that poor book he’d have to replace with a new cover. 

But he understands that this line of work meant he was more used to such things than civilians- perhaps more than he should be. And he was a Wanted man - not by the law but by those who think they’re above it. And so he’s calmly walking over to the counter as the rest of the customers inside the bakery evacuate. Placing a large wad of cash on its wooden plane, he’s just about to leave before he looks more suspicious—before turning right back around and plucking out something from the lavish sweet display - your favorite. And then one more loaf of milk bread for Itadori.

Plopping them down in a bag, he makes his way out. 

This morning, he’d told Itadori to meet him on the other side of Shibuya Crossing- he steps onto the zebra-patterned road right now and can see the little boy waving frantically from the other side. A ball of sunshine energy and a coat of orange far too big for him, but it’s one that he’d grow into - or at least, that’s the excuse Nanami had made when it’d turned out that he’d picked the wrong size. Damn, he needs to fix that.

For the mission, of course. Nanami shakes his head back into rationality. 

Quickly crossing the road, the boy throws his arms around the blond man’s legs.

“Papa—!” He squeals, chubby hands grabbing at his three-piece suit. Itadori’s Spider-Man backpack jostles just a little as he jumps up and down, “What took you so long? It was so scawy waiting here…people are running about.”

“My apologies, Yuji.” Nanami responds, looking behind his small figure. “But I see you brought your friends along for moral support.”

Pink brows frown, “What’s mowal support?”

Behind him, the frames of Kugisaki Nobara and Fushiguro Megumi shuffle about - his (temporary) son’s best friends from school, and it was just as convenient that the black-haired boy was exactly their ticket into siphoning more information about the Zenin family - and Nanami nods at them graciously. “Thank you for walking my son here.”

“Hah, no problem.” Kugisaki crosses her arms smugly, “He was scared so of course we had to-”

“Was not—!”

Fushiguro, meanwhile, just squints at the sky. “There was a strange noise. It sounded like thunder.”

“There was, wasn’t there?” Nanami responds, looking around. The chaos had largely calmed down by now, and as police surrounded the bakery, little by little Shibuya seemed to be getting back to its usual sort of commotion—he looks down at the oblivious starry-eyed boy. “Perhaps that was your mother on her way, I always do say she fell from heaven.”

Itadori frowns, “That sounds like it would hurt.”

Fushiguro scoffs, “That sounds illogical.”

“What’s illogicwal mean?”

Kugisaki squeals, “That sounds romantic-”

“Ewwwww.”

“That’s right.” Nanami tilts his head up and looks in the direction between SHIBUYA SKY and Shibuya Hikarie. Where the shot had come from, he does not need to wonder why. “That is romantic, isn’t it?”

Again, right at you.

And from on top of that rooftop, the long-range rifle drops from your hands.

You hadn’t known that he’d be meeting the three kids afterwards. And perhaps if you’d had an inkling then…

No.

Even as you watched the miniscule shape of Nanami Kento - Agent 7:3 - throw Itadori over his shoulders and clasp both Fushiguro and Kugisaki’s hands as he carefully crossed the bustling road with them, heading in the direction of the sweets’ shop down the road (his second-favorite stop to spoil Itadori), you knew you had a job to do.

And you had to do it, even if it killed you in the process.

That evening, you’re home when he comes back.

“I’m home, darling.” Setting his heavy bags down, as usual. Letting Itadori in before gently clicking the door shut, as usual. Asking you how your day at ‘work’ was before wrapping you in a hug, as usual.

If he suspected you had anything to do with that stray gunshot at the bakery, then he’s made no indication since- you’d seen nothing on the news, either. And by now you’ve convinced yourself that the intensity of his gaze upon you on Shibuya Crossing was a mere fluke. A mere coincidence. Perhaps he was just looking at a strangely-shaped cloud above—

And then he produces the paper bag in his hands.

Looking inside, you gulp.

He’d memorized your order perfectly.

“I got the last one, can you believe it? It seems that the bakery will be undergoing some construction in the following weeks.” Nanami spoke as he shrugs off his coat, looking at you with a slight twinkle in his eyes. “It’s your luck, my love.”

“R-really…?” You didn’t know what to say. Merely holding the bag limply in your hands, as if it would detonate any second now. Just your luck, indeed…

Unsure where to even look- you’re staring after the pink-haired boy that’d rampaged inside, pretending he was Spider-Man. 

“Mhm.” Nanami mutters to himself as he walks inside. “I’ll have to learn to make it at home, however…”

.

.

.

Second attempt.

Perhaps you needed some collaborators, too.

It’d been a beautiful summer-drenched Friday when Nanami had suggested taking Itadori and his two best friends out to the aquarium. 

It was one of his few days off- which in and of itself was shocking. It seems that Nanami had been working himself to the bone recently, and the office had taken initiative to force the blond man into taking a holiday. You’d perked up in your love seat, a novel in your hands—but between the pages was a leaflet on poison concoctions that you’d been reading through. 

“The aquarium?” You’re smiling sweetly up at your handsome husband, running about a hundred different ways you could kill him there. “Why, that sounds wonderful, Kento. I’ll get Yuji from the garden-”

“You just get yourself ready, darling.” Nanami’s voice was deep and warm - it felt like the spread of heat after drinking hot cocoa, the way it starts from the pit of your stomach before eventually ebbing into every one of your fingertips. “I’ll worry about wrangling Yuji into the bath. Take your time.”

Oh—all the assassination plans you could concoct in that time! 

Attempting to keep the smile off of your face, you’re leaping up onto your feet and heading in the direction of your shared bedroom to get ready. Making just about one step- two- three…before halting in your tracks and swivelling right back around. Nanami’s keen ears catch onto the difference in the determined cadence of your footsteps and he looks back at you.

Questions ready on his tongue, “What’s wro-”

And for perhaps the first time, the ever-eloquent Nanami Kento is rendered speechless. 

Because you’re placing a hand on his shoulder and leaning him towards you with a single tug- pressing your lips against his svelte cheek. 

Nanami’s skin is warm against yours - and you know it only makes logical sense, but some part of you had perhaps wondered whether his body was just as cold as his professional demeanor. Despite being married you hadn’t quite…consummated the marriage yet—and he understood, he could wait. He didn’t need something if it wasn’t related to his mission, of course

And you’re trying to convince yourself that this is part of yours- to gain trust, you rationalize. 

The kiss lasts less than two seconds, and your heart thump-thump-thumps against your chest as you pull away. Refusing to meet his eyes, his raised brows, his speechlessness, you’re turning heel and speed-walking to the bedroom.

All for the mission.

All for the mission.

All for the mission.

Little did you know that someone else in the house was thinking the same thing.

Nanami stands there unsteadily for a few seconds before heading to the garden to gather Itadori. 

Before high noon, you were all ready and had picked up Kugisaki and Fushiguro to go to the aquarium - during which Nanami had been glad to snoop around the Zenin family home as he took the little boy off his guardian’s hands. 

The aquarium was an entire ecosystem itself.

The entire world was seeped in blue, and sunlight dazzled from above the largest attractions to create patterns of gold that looked almost unearthly. Parents tugged by children, teenagers tugged by parents; friends and couples that flitted from tank to colorful tank in a near-aqueous way. Laughs and excited gasps—melding in symphony with the honking of clown horns, with the occasional burst of a balloon. It seems that many families - and you use the term because there was none better - had the same idea as yours, and the smell of sticky, sweet strawberry ice cream hits your nose as soon as you enter the area for water exhibits.

Passing by the lively tanks, hand-in-hand with Itadori, your gaze catches on something that sparks an idea in your mind. “Yuji…” You’re dropping down to be eye-level with the pink-haired little boy, “Why don’t you and your friends go and check out the touch tank over there?”

“The touch tank?” He nervously looks over to the lowly-fenced exhibit surrounded by children and a few handlers. It was a well-managed tank, widespread with nooks and crannies and rock masses along the sides, a hand-washing station before it; squeals emerged occasionally where a participant happened to touch something particularly slimy. He kicks the ground, “Hmm.”

Kugisaki wraps her arms around one of his, “Oh- c’mon, idiot.”

“Hey-”

And then she leans in and whispers in something that wasn’t a whisper at all - but what would a six-year-old know about secrets? Adults knew far too much. “Your momma obviously wants to spend some romantic time with your papa, don’t you have common sense?”

You have to bite back a laugh- sure, you wanted to be alone with him. 

Though not for any reason they could conjure up.

He sputters, “I-I…” Looking over at Fushiguro for help.

Fushiguro, notably, doesn’t help.

Instead he walks over to an exhibit of sea urchins.

“I want momma and papa to be happy.” Itadori fiddles with his orange overcoat. And your heart clenches—when this is all over you don’t know how you’re going to explain this to him. But you’d be damned if you weren’t allowed to take him for yourself- wait.

You’re shaking your head.

You were thinking nonsense.

And you’re composing yourself just in time for Itadori to look up at Nanami and receive a gentle nod in reassurance - whatever he does, the older man would be content with.

Itadori lets himself be dragged away by the ginger-haired girl- only if that meant he could drag the human version of a disgruntled little sea urchin with him, too. And as the kids have their fun, you’re promising that the two of you won’t be too far away and to definitely call one of you if they need you—before you’re wrapping both arms around one of Nanami’s.

Hugging him to you, you peer into his gold-flecked eyes softly. “I’d really like to see the blue-ringed octopus exhibit, Kento.”

He slightly coughs out his answer, “A-and so we shall, my love.”

And so here was the plan: the venomous creatures were the least-visited. So you’d drag the spy away where one couldn’t see, get him distracted by them, and knock him unconscious with the chloroform-soaked handkerchief you had carefully packaged in one pocket. Dagger in your other pocket. Then you’d finish the job, of course.

Then, outside, was a Discretion Team from the Garden that would discard the evidence, and let you take the kids back home- perhaps even concoct some excuse about ‘a work thing’ coming up at the hospital and causing him to leave.

It was perfect.

It was perfect.

 Next to the squid exhibition and the camouflage section, Nanami Kento was completely and utterly entranced by the octopus exhibit. His face paints in a blue light as he watches the alien-like movements of the creatures, so much so that he doesn’t even notice you slipping behind him—digging through your pockets before plastering his face with the damp handkerchief. 

Nanami’s hand comes up to touch your wrist, though you’re unmoveable. 

He breathes the chloroform in deep.

And then he wavers.

You got him.

Your heart rate spikes, thinking it’s time- fuck, you’ve finally gotten him. Keeping one hand with the chloroform pressed up against him, you’re just about to reach for the dagger snuck into your pocket. He was on the verge of being completely knocked out.

But someone on the verge of being completely knocked out wouldn’t tighten his grip on your wrist, would he? 

Your heart runs cold. 

Preventing you from grabbing your weapon, you feel Nanami smile beneath the thin fabric. Before imitating a sneeze into the handkerchief- “A—choo! Thank you, my love. How did you know I was allergic to the smell of squid ink?”

“You-” And you’re tugging your hand - and the venomous handkerchief - away from him as though his skin burned. 

“Yes?”

But he keeps his fingers intertwined with yours even as you pull away, letting them dangle between you two when you’re stepping into his line of sight once more and assessing every inch of him. His eyes? Clear. His gait? Steady. His expression? Normal (handsome).

No signs of dizziness, fatigue, or the signs of your plan working in motion.

But the chloroform—

Eventually, he lets your hands fall limply to your sides, and you’re looking down at the fabric in shock. Nanami Kento was still standing- and he hums as he turns back to the blue-ringed octopuses; slithering underneath an arch of coral as they, too, went into hiding. 

He clasps his hands behind his back and speaks to no one in particular, “Odd, isn’t it? I’m immune to 562 poisons and over a thousand toxic substances, but it’s squid ink that makes my system flare up.” 

Your jaw drops. Silently, solemnly, you find yourself standing beside him. “You’re…immune…”

He merely nods, staring through the tank. Gaze on something far away.

“I bet that was difficult.” There was a Poisons Division in the Garden as well, and you’d heard of the sheer torture they had to go through to make themselves immune to such things: one could make the body a scab to all things toxic, but underneath that was still a wound. You yourself knew that all too well. Ultimately, you say. “Must have to do with your work as a psychiatrist.”

Nanami nods, “Must have.”

There’s a shriek then the pitter-patter of small footsteps. 

You’re so wound-up and taut that it makes you jump slightly closer to Nanami- and he’s readily steadying you against his side. Arms on your shoulders.

“See, I told you they were being all romantic—!”

Nanami holds back a chuckle, “We should get going.” And unbeknownst to you, his eyes follow…follow…follow a man with dark hair streaked with grey, one that could only ever belong to the Zenin family. Zenin Naobito was lurking in the corners of the aquarium, the most unassuming place for one to conduct secret meetings with contractors that pretended they weren’t here for the same reason.

Because why else would Nanami go on a family outing, right?

Right? 

.

.

.

Third (and final) attempt.

“—and don’t forget your second change of clothes.” The only thing preventing Itadori from darting out of the house and into any oncoming cars was your single hand hooked around the handle of his Spider-Man backpack.

The only thing keeping him in one place.

Somewhat.

With the other, you’re attempting to shove down the spare t-shirt and shorts you’d picked out for him. Knowing your son, there wasn’t any sort of trouble, puddle, or cake batter that he wouldn’t somehow find and get into. And you don’t know what sort of house the Zenins ran, but you were determined to be on their good side.

And so you’re huffing and puffing, beads of sweat forming at your forehead, as you attempt to push it down the humble space- honestly, you didn’t understand why they didn’t just make these things a bit bigger. Just the slightest bit.

At this rate, he’s never going to…

“Itadori Yuji.” Your voice comes out deadpan, and the pink-haired boy turns to you with wide, innocent eyes.

Sweetly, “Yes, momma?”

“Why have you packed your entire Hot Wheels collection for a sleepover?”

Whatever he spouts about wanting to show Fushiguro and Kugisaki, whatever explanations he’s giving about moral support (honestly, where did he even learn such a thing?), goes in one ear and out the other.

Because yes—Fushiguro had invited Itadori and Kugisaki over for a sleepover at their home. It was convenient given that the two boys were practically next-door neighbors, and after the success of their aquarium visit you were hesitant to part the trio. Thus, it seems that Fushiguro had all but thrown a tantrum and attempted to run away from home in order to convince his guardian to agree to a sleepover. Which was sweet, of course.

But this was Itadori’s first, and any mother would be nervous about that sort of thing- wait.

But you weren’t a mother…technically. This was all a ruse for your mission, and so you’re shaking your head and pushing the bundled-up clothes deeper into his backpack, perhaps in order to drive that point home.

You’re interrupted by a gentle hand on your shoulder.

“Let me take over, my love.”

You’re shifting aside to let Nanami handle the little issue swiftly—with a firm hand - thick fingers, prominent veins, that wedding ring on his left hand - he tugs Itadori back inside the house. “Now now, sunshine. What have we said about taking our toys out of the house?”

He tilts his head up n’ juts his little bottom lip out, “To take only one.”

Nanami lifts the bag just slightly to the side and takes a glance, “And does this look like only one?”

“No…” Itadori sighs.

Soon, you’re finding just about half the Hot Wheels production line laid out, side-by-side and color-coordinated, on the threshold to your home. It looked like a miniature parking lot of which Itadori grumbled as he pushed the clothes into the newly-presented space inside the bag and zipped it shut. Pouting.

Nanami chuckles gently, crouching down so that he was eye-level with the boy. ”You know momma and papa love you, right, sunshine?”

“I know…”

“And you understand why it would be difficult to take all the cars?”

Itadori takes a second to think, before giving you both a determined nod. “I do.” And you’re feeling something within you soar- but you’re forgoing wondering just what it means to feel so proud for the boy. 

“Good.” Your blond husband stands with heave, taking one of Itadori’s arms and turning around to look at you. “Say bye-bye to momma, Yuji.”

He turns with a beaming smile and a chubby arm raised in goodbye. “Bye-bye, momma.”

“I’ll see you in a bit, my love.” Nanami leans in and—presses a sweet, sweet peck to your cheek. Heat seems to sear from where his lips touched, spreading across your chest and all the way down to your toes. You feel your heat batter against your ribcage- fuck.

Was this what he’d felt the other day?

Two seconds; it’s as far as your intimacy as a married couple goes. And in that time Itadori brings his hands up to cover his eyes with a giggled, “Ewwwww—!” 

With an amused shake of his head, the father-son duo set off. Since the Zenin household was in the same neighborhood, about a street away, it was only about a five-minute walk to get there. 

Which is why you had to act fast.

Nanami Kento would be home in less than ten minutes - he wouldn’t have Itadori to slow down his long strides on the way back. And you’re standing there with the front door ajar as they leave, waving…waving…waving-

The very moment their backs disappear, you’re slamming the door shut and racing to the kitchen.

There, you’re reaching up to the very topmost cabinet: grabbing the new liquorice-flavored cereal you knew that no one in the house would touch. Of course, you’d emptied out the cereal this very morning.

And all that remained in the cardboard box inside was a slim vial you’d bought from the apothecary. 

It wasn’t exactly what one would consider menacing, but it was exactly what you needed for your Hail Mary attempt at completing your mission. It was made of a crystal-clear glass, fashioned into a reticello design, with a label containing some information and a stopper of gold that made the contents within seem far more elegant than they were in reality.

Dark brown powder that looked like ground up dirt.

An unassuming little substance you’d rippled with excitement over at the apothecary’s. So much so that you’d damn-near didn’t hear half the things she said- but it’s fine. You were an assassin, right?

And what was an assassin that didn’t know how to use the most powerful poison in the nation? 

Material XXX.

You’ve never seen it with your own two eyes. Nanami might have been immune to chloroform, but there was no living person on Earth that could resist this. 

Oh—it was beautiful…And it mixed so perfectly with the ground-up coffee you were adding to your coffee maker. One steaming hot cup of coffee had already been made and upon the kitchen counter beside you, it let out hot swirls of heat as you tampered with the other one. Sweetly fragrant. 

You smile- he’ll be dead in one sip. And, sure, you might have some explaining to do to Itadori - but doesn’t all good coffee spark conversation?

You’re still running through the list of excuses in your mind once the brewing comes to a stop.

And just in time, the front door clicks! open.

“He was so excited he tripped five times.” Nanami’s deep sigh echoes into the kitchen. You hear the shuffling sounds of him taking his shoes off, shrugging his coat onto the rack, stepping inside. “Though the other two were just the same- could you please make us some coffee, darling, while I get started on dinner?”

“You’ll ruin your dinner, Kento.” You call out to him, “And I already have.”

His handsome head pops out from the door, golden strands slightly tousled from the walk. Nanami breathes in the unmistakable scent of coffee piercing the kitchen air, and smiles. “You’re the best.”

“In many ways.” Leaning back against the counter, you’re handing his freshly-made cup - poured into a large mug that said #1 Papa - to him. 

Nanami’s large hands pluck it from yours and he whispers, “Thank you.” Looking down at the scalding concoction that still swirled within, “I really mean it, you know.”

“What?” You’re looking up at him in surprise.

“You’re the best.”

Your fingers grow tighter around your own mug: World’s Best Momma.

“Drink your coffee before it gets cold, Kento.”

He hums through a smile, before blowing on the similarly-fragrant steam. It smelled of jasmine and spring and something like love; but you wouldn’t know anything about that, would you? It’s almost a tease—watching Nanami swirl the coffee around a bit, watching him affirm his grip, watching him leeeean his stern lips in before-

“Aren’t you going to drink up, my love?” You almost startle - Nanami was staring at you through his blond tresses, brows furrowed in slight concern. “Are you alright? You look a little…tense.”

“I-I’m perfectly alright—” You hasten to explain- if Nanami got suspicious now and refused to drink his coffee, then there was no way you’re completing this mission. Without wasting anymore time, you’re bringing your coffee up to your own lips - though you don’t take a sip just yet. “Just thinking about work, you know how it is…”

He nods. “We’ve both been really busy lately, haven’t we? I apologize if I’ve made you feel a little lonely these days-”

“Not at all-”

“But still.” Nanami was determined. Those molten brown eyes of his seemed to be pinning you down to the tiled kitchen floor, and the heat of your body contrasted with its frigidness. “I apologize. Tonight, let’s just take some time for the two of us—we can watch a show, we can do some puzzles, tell me about your favorite book and we can read it together.”

You’re refusing to meet his eyes- you can’t. “That…that would be lovely.”

“To us.” Your husband - the spy, you have to remind yourself - outreaches his arm and clinks! your two mugs together in a toast.

“To us.” You weakly whisper. 

And then you take a sip and watch him do the same.

Immediately, you know something’s wrong.

From the slightly sour- slightly sweet- taste coating your tongue—to the way that Nanami takes a long, deep swig and sighs out in satisfaction. He doesn’t drop dead. He doesn’t grab his throat in agony. He doesn’t even stagger where he’s standing as he loses consciousness- 

Nanami sets his coffee mug down and grins.

“Poison working for you, darling?” And your own drops from your hand and shatters. “Oh dear, let me take care of that-”

“Stop.”

In the middle of reaching for the sweeping pan, Nanami halts and looks at you with slightly unfocused, glazed eyes. Heat rising to his cheeks. Breaths coming out in murked pants. Ones that you were sure mirrored your own. 

You felt as if you had a fever five times over and someone had still set you on fire—

Your temperature was soaring through the roof and searing through your skin, making your clothes feel clammy and clinging onto your form. A bead of sweat trickles down the side of your temple. But even more than that was the way that- fuck, it was the heat between your damn legs. It was aching. Something deep and primal—something clawing at you from your insides and making you shudder as you lock eyes with Nanami once again.

Before you know it, he’s wrapping an arm around your waist to help steady you. And nothing more- did you want something more?!

You’re boring into his eyes and finding out that he wasn’t any better. Not in the least.

In fact, he’d drunk more of the potioned coffee than you.

Your wettened lips part and out comes the only thing you know how to say right now, “Kento.”

He jolts at the sound of his first name wrapped around your tongue. So sexual.

And his own words come out a gravelly croon, “Didn’t read the label, assassin?” That smile of his looked almost feral in the light you were looking at him right now. “Because I did.”

He attempts to pull away to show the label to you- the vial of powder he’d found. 

The plans he’d ruined.

The secrets he’d discovered.

The temperature in the kitchen was near-sizzling.

But the only thing you can think to do is claw your hands outwards and clutch his white shirt with an unfounded ferocity. One of his buttons pop! off and end up on the kitchen floor.

Chuckling, he gives up letting you see the label for yourself. If you won’t let him go, then…without a single warning, Nanami’s leaning in so that his pretty lips graze your ear. The front of his toned chest pushes up against you- and perhaps the only thing that helps you focus is the rapid, ravenous ba-dump! Ba-dump! Ba-dump! of his heart. Pummeling. “Because if you did, then perhaps you’d have seen that Material XXX isn’t supposed to come into contact with caffeine, my love…”

You gasp, hands twisting even deeper into his button-up.

“Because then, it doesn’t become a poison at all.” The long line of his nose glides down your throat, sending shivers skittering across wherever he was in contact with. He stops against a spot you knew was sensitive and softly blooooooows—cold air against hot skin. 

You shiver.

And he merely continues in a rasp, “Because then, it becomes a substance that draws out your deepest desires. Amplifying pre-existing needs that the host contains, those that might be hidden due to…other reasons. So consider it an experiment of sorts. Can you recognize what this concoction is for you, darling?”

“A-an aphrodisiac.” Your eyes threaten to flutter shut- the mere breeze of his breath makes your thighs clench. 

He nods. “An aphrodisiac.”

“How long have you known?” More honest than ever; the question blurts out of your lips.

Nanami takes the time to think, “Since the sniping in Shibuya is when I knew.” With lewd, lethargic eyes he looks you up and down- up and down…“But to be honest, I’ve always suspected.”

You growl—“So then you know I’m here to kill you-” 

“So try me.”

You lunge.

.

.

.

And perhaps that was how he got here.

Nanami feels the very pointed tip of your heel graze his bulging erection- and he bucks. Not enough to finally free himself, but enough that it makes the chair cricket—and you’re looking down at him through your lashes.

He’s forced to stop his head from throwing backwards, bearing his sensitive throat. Maybe it was the pressure, maybe it was the aphrodisiac, maybe it was the fact that he’s wanted you for so fucking long now- but he feels zaps of white-hot pleasure course through his body.

All the way from the in-betweens of his meaty thighs, riveting like snakes into every one of his limbs. Eventually up to his poor brain.

Slow and steady; you’re watching the fabric of Nanami’s trousers darken. Seeping and spreading the more he tried to press his legs together to hide it.

And once you’re roverin’ your foot over his cock- he moans. 

Grin spreading, the further you step down on him, the louder those squelches from his puddle of cum were. “Awww, already, Kento? They didn’t have that in your file.”

Somehow through it all, he manages out such a ravenously handsome grin. Blond hairs disarrayed. Tie askew. Shirt unbuttoned down until you could see golden hairs peeking out. “Th-they probably didn’t have a lot of things.”

“True.” You respond, stepping down harder and he gasps- “But remember who’s in charge now.”

Nanami looks at you through unfocused, half-lidded eyes. “Always was you, darling.”

“Flatterer.” Harder. 

“Fuh-fuuuuck…” He spits. Head dropping forwards, a thin line of drivel escapes from his parted mouth and adds onto the mess below. You’re watching it glisten underneath the dim lighting of the bedroom - one you’d somehow manage to drag the blond spy into. “Do that again and I’m going to cream my pants once more, my love.”

Your jaw slightly drops at the matter-of-fact way he was phrasing it. The Nanami Kento you’d been married to never uttered a word like this- “Well…”

“Is that what you’d like?” And, suddenly, his eyes are sharper than before. You had your leg raised so that you could step on his most sensitive bits, but you failed to realize that also meant he had access to your own…to rub his cheek against your inner thigh like a cat yearning for the cream. “Is that what you want your husband to do in repentance?”

“W-we’re not even really married-” Taken aback. Heat flaring where his pants fanned you- your dagger trembles where you held it against his throat. Close enough to cut.

And yet he was still craning his face - his mouth - as near as he could get to your cunt. Mouth watering. A crimson bead where your blade was rested-

“But we could be.” And you’re lost for words. Nanami just looked so pathetic beneath you in ways you never could’ve even imagined: eyes blown wide and dazed, mouth permanently unhinged as he inched towards your soaked underwear, breaths getting more n’ more labored the longer you kept pinning his clothed cock down with your heel. 

He had his hands cuffed behind him and was aching to get between those legs - and you’re unsure whether you should blame just the aphrodisiac. Desperation seeps into his words, “But we could consummate this marriage.”

Your lips part.

He doesn’t waste a second.

“Seven times over just to make up for the time we’ve lost.” And then he’s tipping his head back and bearing you with a grin, “Fuck my cock raw, my wife.”

And how could you ever say no to that?

You don’t—instead, what you’re doing is taking advantage of the needy way his jaw was unhinged in a soundless prayer. One that you’re answering with a direct spit- lips pursed, you’re letting a glittering glob of saliva paste against his lips.

Purposefully missing the precise target, the lewd translucent liquid splatters against the side of his lips before ultimately trickling inwards. And you’re watching with your jaw dropped as his Adam’s apple bobs- as he swallows.

Perhaps that was the last straw.

The tip of your glinting blade draws a perfect line down Nanami’s middle - just enough pressure to scrape a harmless line of white down his exposed skin. And then you’re slashing those ropes that bound him to the chair. 

Metal restraints, you watch him semi-free himself.

And you’re turning around and walking to the bed.

Sitting at the very edge.

Resting your palms behind you.

Your legs spread-spread-spreeeeeead wide enough that he gets a view good enough to make his slightly-teary eyes bulge. Lips parting. Cock twitching. You’re tilting your head casually to the side and beckoning him—“If you want it, come and get it, Nanami Kento.”

Handcuffed and hands behind his back, the famous agent has no other choice than to get on his knees and crawl over to you.

Fucking crawling.

The carpet chafes beneath his knees, the sound echoes as he inches and inches- torturously slow. Body bowed. Chest heaving. 

Whilst you don’t move a single degree.

It might have been hours- it might have been fucking eons that are passing by before Nanami reaches the foot of the bed; burning up far more from the fever of wanting you than any aphrodisiac in existence. He honed senses raise into the air - and he’s getting a whiff of that honeyed fragrance from your pussy. Almost singing to him, surely it wasn’t just because of that powder that he thinks it’s the most delicious-smelling thing on Earth.

His stomach nearly growls. 

And then Nanami’s between your parted legs and famished. 

All good spies deserve a treat, right?

Before you know it, Nanami’s leaned in and having his lips glued to your clothed cunt. Fucking glued. They were puckered and pert—both pairs of lips, and the vibrations of his moan make your back arch as he tastes you for the very first time.

Just the most innocent kiss. 

The first time that he’s getting everything he’s fucking dreamed of.

Because whenever you left the house dressed so prettily, whenever you hummed at the taste of your favorite baked good, whenever you bent over to pick up something- you didn’t know it, but…Nanami stared.

Oh, how he stared n’ licked his hungry lips. 

Wondering just how sweet your pretty, pretty cunt would taste - just how fucking sooooft and tender your pussylips would feel once he’s finally giving them that nice French kiss they deserved. All up on his tongue.

Despite being such a gentleman to everyone around him—who’d have guessed that Nanami Kento would have the dirtiest thoughts of them all? That whenever he gazed upon you with that ‘ruse’ of affection, he was actually hiding something far…far darker. 

The dirtiest thoughts that he was acting upon right now. 

With his honed tastebuds swipin’ down your wet slit, Nanami counts every bead of slick that you’re leaking through your panties. Sugary sweet. He’s boring his smoldering gaze into yours as he—with a slurp! lets those pearly translucent droplets collect on the tip of his tongue, and then glide, glide, gliiiiiide deep down to the back of his throat.

Blond lashes flickering his eyes shut at the flavorful taste, Nanami groans. 

“C-can I prove it now…?”

You almost don’t recognize his voice.

The tone of it sends fire shooting straight between your legs- and without thinking twice, you lean your weight on your hands and edge even closer. Whining, “Prove what, Kento?”

And he seems almost embarrassed to answer.

Almost shy now—

Though the heat of the aphrodisiac and the globules of slick stuck to his chin were making him more of an honest man by the second. “I need to prove that m’worthy of being your husband, pussy.”

Was he talking to you or…?

Fuck.

Sense coming back to him in bursts and stutters, Nanami shakes his head briefly- “I mean-” A blush rises to the tips of his ears, though his eyes remain as starved as ever—“I need to prove that m’worthy of being a good husband to both you and-” His biceps bulge as he struggles against the handscuffs briefly, pathetically and lovingly nuzzling the hot in-betweens of your folds. “-this girl right here.”

The way he says it…fuck.

He gives off the impression of a man that’s been starved for ages- for eons. There was something almost wolfish imprinted onto his expression, and the whites of his teeth feature an appearance between your legs as Nanami leans in; with knitted brows and a ragged emphasis, he’s asking - begging - once more. “Please-” Mahogany eyes just so earnest, “Marry me?”

Marry him?

Your jaw drops.

Was he so pussydrunk already that he’s genuinely proposing? 

Or was it just the aphrodisiac—you’re not waiting to find out.

Readily, Nanami only needs to feel a single shove of your glistenin’ wet pussy against his mouth - before he’s letting his eyes roll to the back of his skull. Farther and farther. Almost blindly, he uses his pointed chin to dig himself even deeper. And he couldn’t spread your pretty thighs apart with his arms, so he’s resorting to fitting his burly body - shoving your legs apart with his broad shoulders - until he gets closer to your core. Your dripping wet core,

Simply soaked.

Just a single strand of blond sticks to his forehead—usually-slicked hair coming out of its neat style now. And Nanami isn’t shy to sliiiide apart your drenched panties with his tongue, then start pressing kiss after open-mouthed kiss. 

Wide-mouthed. Gaping. 

Just the most teasing, faintish whispers of his tongue. Feverish in speed.

The sopping, smooth edge of his tastebuds lodge inside and slathers itself in all of your syrupy juices. Jaggedly probin’ in and out. “Is this how my wife wants it? Does this, mmm- feel good, my love?”

And you hadn’t even realized that your eyes were closed until you’re fluttering them open—looking through tear-filled lashes at the handsome man between your legs. “Y-yessss…deeper, Kento.”

His eyes suddenly clear in urgency.

Mind befogged with lust - but he’s alert enough to recognize your pretty pleas. And without a single second wasted, the slashes of his tongue scour even deeper inwards. With all his slick inches he’s tunneling into your pussy- and your toes curl at the sensation of him driving into spots unknown. “A-and?” He spits, “Is this good?”

He’s just so eager to please. “Nghhh, yes.” Blabbering out, “Just a bit more to the side now, honey.”

Obediently, he cocks his head and angles his kisses. The layers of his lips smush with your delicate pussy, until it was as if he’s stuck there by adhesive - you don’t think he’s pulling away enough to even breathe…and he wouldn’t mind forgoing his own comfort to make sure you’re feeling your best. “Is this good?” The big, bad spy that has all of Tokyo’s underbelly trembling pleads.

“Yes-”

“And what else?”

“Wh-what…?” Stare widening in surprise. 

That cute expression of yours - the way your cunt seems to splash! another wad of your slick onto his ready tastebuds - makes him rattle at his chains. As though to break through. As though to ravish you whole. 

But the only thing he’s succeeding in doing is letting gravity stoop his face even lower onto your pulsating pussy. Every throb was just so delicous—and Nanami swears he’s feeling his own heartbeat synchronize with the rapid cadence of it. “What else do you need from your husband? Do you need more tongue?” 

Just then, you’re feeling the ridged texture of his tastebuds start drilling even deeper. That cutely pink tip of his tongue starts bludgeoning inside as though reaching for your very cervix.

And he’s hatching out something- something almost delirious. “Do you need it sloppier? Because I can- mmm, do sloppier.” The cacophonous noise from beneath your swollen folds starts growing in both pitch and volume as he increases his speed, thick, ribbony strings of slick coating the edges of his mouth - “I can make it faster. Slower. Sexier.”

You’re straining your hamstrings to push off the springy mattress, “P-please—”

“I can eat you out like a husband should.” 

Munch-munching away at everything your pussy had to offer. Everything and anything.

He’s jostling his body so painfully close to yours- skin against skin. Lips against lips. Without the gesticulation of his hands to balance himself, it was rare that he’d find a moment to push up and part from your pussy - and whenever he did, it just meant he wasn’t doing his job well enough.

Nanami chases after even the slightest movements of your restless hips. And there’s a slight crack emanating from his metal handcuffs when the straight top of his nose taps your throbbing clit. 

“Tell me, my wife—tell me what you want.”

It feels like you’re being struck by shards of lighting itself, “J-just like that, Kento-”

“Just like that? Or even more- hah.” He pants out in a raspy wheeze. Nanami’s voice was low- lower than you can ever recall it being. “Don’t hafta lie to me, darling. Your husband can give you aaaaanything and everything.”

A shallow moan cracks at the back of your throat by the way he’s emphasizing his words- notably by reeling his thick tongue out and drag-drag-draaaagging it all across the forefront of your cunt. “Th-then…ngh, I want whatever it is that you want, Kento.”

His golden brows shoot up to his hairline, “What’s- hck! that, my love?”

And in a split-second - perhaps it’s your assassin side coming out, perhaps it’s the aphrodisiac that’s dialing every emotion up to the max - you’re grabbing a searing hold of Nanami’s pale tresses. A proper fistful that lets you jerk the strong man off of your cunt and gazing his glistening peripherals up at you.

He’s drawing his mouth away with a wet plop! The jutted-out edge of his lower lip trembles at the thought of not being in contact with your tasty cunt, and you have to tap the side of Nanami’s face to  get him to fully focus his attention on you.

It takes a little while for his lava-like eyes to peer up at you. “Y-yes, my wife…?”

Chuckling just a bit at the way he’s lost his train of thought - perhaps every thought he’s ever conjured up once he’s tasting your cunt. “What do you want, Kento? Tell me what you’d like…tha’s gonna please me the most.”

“But I beg to-”

“I know you want it.” And he didn’t forget about those ruthless heels of yours, did he? The broad frame of Nanami Kento shudders at the pointed sensation of your heels gliding up his open thighs. Trouser-covered and cum-drenched, you’re feeling for the bumpy area where his fat cock throbbed- and crushing down on it with the flats of your shoe. “This thing doesn’t lie to me, honey. Just tell me what the little spy wants.”

“I…fuck, this is embarrasing- this is so ungentlemanly-” But that was a ship long sailed. And he finds himself drooping even further into the heavenly in-betweens of your legs.

And you’re witnessing the veins on his beefy forearms pop out, the skin of his forehead perspiring- and it almost feels to you as if the blond man was holding himself back at this very moment. A shiver runs through you as you wonder just what him giving his all would mean for you…

And his swollen mouth cracks open, “Please…” And it’s not you that’s starting to beg…it’s Nanami himself. Deep and guttural wrenched out from his voicebox, he sends rumbles across your body like thunder. “Please push me even d-deeper into your cunt.” Nuzzlin’ your clit with his nose, he murmurs. “Push me so far deep- ride my tongue- use me until my mouth’s raw and I can’t even breathe.”

And you know you’re the one that asked him…but you can’t help but let your jaw hang speechlessly.

“I need you to make you c-cum on my tongue five times before I can call myself your husband.”

The answer takes some time to choke out, and when it finally does you’re feeling embarrassed at the slightly pitchy tone it takes. “Then do it.” With his sweaty strands plastered to your palm, and your heel being used to steady yourself—and push down on his convulsing cock. You give him no warning before pushing him down deeper. 

He sputters-

“I’m going to ride your face now, Kento.” And you’re shocked by your ability to keep your words from slurrin’ together now. “Do it- do everything it is that you want to do. But no pulling back to breathe. No cumming until I do.”

And he’s peering up at you with the most loving half-lidded eyes, “Yes, my wife.”

That man was a goner for his wife—you. 

“Hngh—mmm- K-Kento!” It’s just about the only thing your spit-drivelled lips can echo right now. The sound travels across the room before bouncin’ into Nanami’s eardrums, and he swears it’s the most beautiful sound he’s heard. Because in a sultry split-second, he’s loosening his body up and letting you pin his face between your legs.

Then veering your hips upwards and upwards.

Frenzied, squelching movements of your hips. Your body was just crashing into his in the most sinful collision, and it was making the skin of his high cheekbones start to redden and sting- Nanami barely has the time to part his lips and take in an inhale—

Before your sopping pussylips are plastering to his mouth once more. And he’s lappin’ his tongue away wilding onto every inch he could reach - all around the hidden crevices of your cunt, before entering through your tight hole.

Nanami’s muscle was just so thick that he made you keen with the intrusion of his tastebuds. Feeling up the hugging walls of your channel, before you’re swearing he’s reaching for that one spot that made your eyes roll.

“Shit-” You’re babbling out, hands shaking where you held him down. “Sh-shiiiiiit, just like that. Does that feel good for you too, baby?”

He’s feeling the flaps of his lips start to swell and his lungs ache for breath- “Yes.” He’s never answered anything truer in his life - and it wasn’t just the aphrodisiac, though it did only seem to be getting stronger by the second. “Fuck—yes, and d-don’t keep doing that with your heel or m’gonna cum.”

“What?” You ask innocently - fully knowing the ministrations you were carrying out beneath your line of sight and his. Your heel was flattened over his massive bulge and smoothing up and down, up and down, up and down—practically jerking Nanami off though more with the pressure you were pitting against him.

The nib of your heel grazes his mushroomy tip and he bucks- “M’gonna cum, my love…”

Almost in agony. 

You smile as you reply, “Me too.” Before leaning down just the slightest inch in proximity of him - as though sharing a secret between just the two of you in this world. “But that’s only one of five.”

He grunts.

Fuck- he didn’t want to disappoint his beautiful wife. He can’t. He couldn’t.

And as though crazed, Nanami’s flickering the inches of his tongue through and through that dripping entrance of yours. In and out. Stirrin’ around his lengthy muscle in juuuust the way he knew would hit those pretty orifices that made you cry out so loud, Nanami’s focusing on your g-spot for a few seconds at a time to make sure you’re experiencing as much pleasure as possible with every thrust.

Through it all, his nose remains pressed up against your throbbing clit. “One down, four to go.”

“What do you…” Your toes curl then—because Nanami had predicted it before you had. With a sudden flash behind your eyes, you’re crashing into one wave of pleasure after the other - starting up from the pleasure-riddled area between your legs and climbing up into every cranny of your body afterwards.

Your arms go limp. Your back arches perfectly.

“Sh-shiiiiiit- that feels so good.” Your head tilts backwards as the sudden euphoria overtakes you, and your heartbeat only seems to accelerate by twofold after you take a look down at Nanami himself.

His eyes were rolling to the depths of his skull, until only the whites of them were visible. His mouth was agape and his body was almost moving on autopilot—pure carnal instinct simply lappin’ and lappin’ away at your cunt - sending sparks roaring through your body every time his dexterous nose struck your clit. His cock was twitching away furiously beneath your long heels.

And you’re quite sure that Nanami himself was on the verge of an orgasm- “Don’t cum.” You’re pressing down on his cock.

He jolts ever-so-slightly - though his movements don’t falter for a single second. And he was slightly muffled from his…position, though you do manage to make out a scoff. “Who did you think I was?” Nanami responds in a gravelly tone, “M’your husband, darling. And a husband is always supposed to keep his vows.”

You don’t mention that you technically didn’t have a ceremony with vows and everything.

Because in the next mere moments, Nanami has his tongue thrusted back inside and his chin glued to the bottom of your wet slit. No matter how much you’re bucking and moaning, he’s determined to accomplish that little wish you—he had had.

And with the textured swabs of his tongue, he’s pulling out one more orgasm. Two more. Three more-

You think you’ve lost count by the time you’re all sprawled out and spent on the bed. Throwing your head back, letting your heels hook onto his shoulders and tug him even closer - you’re all but begging for mercy as dopamine leaves stars bursting behind your eyelids. 

Your cunt was just so heated and raw at this point - though the aphrodisiac kept your slippery slick coming until it was drenchin’ Nanami all the way down to his collarbones.

His invisible dusting of blond on top of his upper lip glistens with the sap that clings onto it, and Nanami peers up at you with hollow, drunken eyes finally. “How many was that, my love?”

Would he believe it if you said you didn’t fucking know—

Apparently you didn’t have to remain wondering, because those words are leaving your lips mindlessly. They take a few seconds to penetrate Nanami’s own foggy mind- but with something akin to a crooked grin, he raises his head. “S’that so?” 

You’re shivering once he pulls his tongue out and presses a loud peck on top of your cunt.

“My poor, poor wife—did your husband go too hard?” And you’re not sure what’s in his intense gaze that makes you gesture out a single nod - an embarrassing nod. But you’re doing so anyway, and you hiss when he presses a final kiss and raises himself up onto his haunches. “But I have kept my end of the deal, darling. Didn’t your husband make you proud?”

“Y-yes—” 

“Didn’t your husband make you cum?”

“Yes-”

“Not five times, yet.” And through sheer will and the use of his incredible core strength, the trained spy stands up without breaking a sweat. “There’s one more to go…”

“Oh- let me.” Using whatever strength hasn’t been wrung out of you from the marathon of your highs - barely worrying about your refractory period - you’re surging upwards and reaching behind him. Those handcuffs you’d put him in were professional-grade and used on the job sometimes, nothing like the kinky toys that one might normally prefer.

Though this wasn’t initially supposed to be play at all.

And perhaps it’s the aphrodisiac that’s clouding your judgement- you know you can’t keep blaming it any longer when…But you’re soon looking around the room for the key that you’d dropped.

You think you had a spare in the bedside cabinet but you couldn’t be too sure- but then again, the original must have fallen somewhere on the carpet during the height of your nervous excitement—

“Looking for the key, mm?” Nanami’s deep croon jolts you out of your single-minded mission. And you somewhat jolt as you look up at his impressive height; his handsome face. 

Your cunt had pooled slick right down to his clothes- the collar of it noticeably darker than the rest of the fabric, with his buttons shining as though polished a thousand times over. And his trousers were just as ruined.

Blond hair completely unruly now. Pupils blown-out through his glasses.

His lips were all reddened n’ puffy with the prolonged contact with the sweetest dessert he’s ever tasted: you. And he’s wearing your slathered layers of slick like a medal of honor, glistening proudly across his mouth and jawline—evidence of his desperation. He husks, “No need to worry yourself, my sweet wife.” Just then, he’s straining his forearms to pull at the handcuffs with brute force - one vein on his forehead popping, skin flushing an even deeper red.

You don’t think he’s going to do it - no one’s ever escaped you when you used those.

But suddenly there’s a screech of metal and a clink! 

Before Nanami Kento’s rubbing at the slight bite of metal upon either of his wrists. His free wrists. His unrestrained wrists.

His unrestrained hunger as he then looms his chiselled body above yours- as you push yourself further and further up to the headboard, Nanami follows. He follows. He follows. He follows until your back hits the wooden panel connected to the wall, and those half-lidded eyes bore down upon you deliciously.

“Can we consummate our marriage now, my love?”

Your words could not be more sheerly needy- “Yes.”

And soon enough you’re helping Nanami out of his button-up, his vest, his trousers. Only his boxers stand in the way now and you’re just impatiently tugging them down—finding your jaw dropping at the sight of him.

Because Nanami was big as far as you’d felt.

But this was…what was that saying about it always being the quiet ones? Nanami’s length laid thick and throbbing between his milky legs; the tip of his shaft flushed an angry red, he’s leaking hot precum in lines down your inner thighs.

Dribbling out from the heavy volumes of his ballsack, and ending up coating his cherry tip in a cute white. 

In the saturated air, his cock twitches upwards a few times. Makin’ stray beads gliiiiide along the vein-covered length of his shaft- down and doooooown to soak into his burnt golden curls at the very base. The entire image was just so sexy that you can’t help but let out a moan—

And Nanami chuckles before he turns his tender lovin’ eyes towards you. “Don’t worry. You’re next, darling.”

Your clothes are shed at an even faster rate.

Soon enough, it’s just him sandwichin’ his bulbous tip between your folds. Too big to immediately slide into your cunt, too covered in so many wads of your slick - slippery with your own sap - that he occasionally eases inside and makes you yelp at the stretch. “It just feels so- fuck, I just know s’gonna feel so good.” Your hands claw down Nanami’s broad back, “I need you, Kento. Badly.”

“How badly?” He crouches over you, lips centimeters from yours. “I need to make sure you’re not jus’ talking out of your pussy, my wife.”

“I’m not—” You promise. “I need you- fuck, I need you.”

“Need me to what, however?” Nanami cocks his head and almost meanly asks- he never knew he could make you sputter so much. It was just so fun watching your pretty mouth fall slightly apart as you registered his teasing—it almost made him want to spit between your lips.

He does.

And Nanami continues shoving his expanding erection just between your thighs, “Do you need me to take this pretty pussy like it’s our wedding night? Do you need me to m-make love to this pretty pussy like we’ve been married for years? What is it…?”

You’re mouthing something that his popped eardrums don’t hear.

Leaning in, “What’s that, darling?”

And so you’re repeating - just a little louder than before. “I n-need you to fuck me like you’re trying to prove you’re my husband.”

Just like before.

And that seems to flip a switch in the stern, stoic Nanami Kento.

Just a little.

Because the next time you’re blinking your teary eyes open- it’s to see the harrowed furrow between his brows as Nanami reels his hips back n’ positions his largely flared tip between your legs. Right where he needs to be.

And then he push-pushes inside—

“Fuck-” He spits- strong hand darting out to grip the headboard. You hear it splinter—“Fuck.”

“Please…” Looking up, you’re letting out a soft gasp at the way the muscles on his arm bulge and make themselves clear next to you. The sheer strength. The sheer pressure. The sheer streeeetch between your legs that you’re being fed inch by solid inch.

It’s almost too much - so much more than you ever thought possible to take in one go. Your throat feels clogged with saliva and Nanami’s sheer size as his cockhead thoroughly pierces your channel.

Smearin’ your gluey walls to either side of him, he enters you slowly yet mercilessly. More and more. 

Your head falls back against the plush pillow directly beneath you-

“Now now- stay with me, darling.” Nanami’s strict sentence was less of a command and more of a sweet willing for you to open your eyes once more—to let him see those pretty, heart-shaped peripherals as he fucked you long and sweet. 

He was burrowed just about halfway in at this point and starting to thrust.

It didn’t matter if he wasn’t completely drenched in your sweetest caverns yet, as long as your thighs were quivering with the utmost pleasure. 

And Nanami collapses his rock-hard, chiselled front on top of your body - almost crushing you under the weight of him. Though you admit that the pressure was one so pleasurable that it sends zaps of electricity shooting to your toes—oh, did you mention that he’d kept your heels on, still?

And right now he was hooking his right set of fingers underneath your thigh, pressing your capped knees all the way up to your tits. 

You’re mooooaning at the burning stretch of your hamstrings.

And he’s letting you ease into it for a few more moments before throwing both legs over each side of his shoulders. Wet with perspiration, you’re letting your heeled feet slide down his hard muscles before finally managing to loop them around your neck.

“This is a mating press- yeah.” He whispers, “D’you like this, my wife?”

Nodding fervently. 

Leaning down to lick off the salty-sweet tears that were streaming down your cheeks, “Good girl.” The nickname slips between Nanami’s pussydrunken mouth before he can stop himself. And when he feels the huggin’ entrance of your cunt grow even wetter at the sound of it…oh.

The tips of his digits damn-near tremble with excitement as the blond-haired man plucks a pillow from one of the many you were laying against. Fluffing it up. Promptly placing it underneath the base of your spine, just where that curve was supposed to start, and raising your hips just a little.

That change of angle made the thump-thump-thumping tip of his cock just slightly press against the roof of your cunt, and you whine. “Sh-shit…”

“D’you know what that’s for, my love?”

“Huh?” You respond hazily, and he gestures towards the pillow. Just so gone- on his cock, on the aphrodisiac, on the primal instincts on the verge of screaming at him to shove even deeper. “Um…”

Nanami leans in and presses a chaste kiss to your forehead, “That’s alright. I’ll teach you later, my love. For now…”

For now, what was that you’d begged for earlier?

Ah…

For now, he was going to fuck you like a loving husband fucks his beloved, beloved wife.

And he was going to prove it to this pussy that he was your husband—is. There were no two ways of going about it- Nanami’s leaning his toned torso backwards and suddenly rammin’ into you with all his strength.

He doesn’t stop until he’s sure he can hear the damn thwack! of his mazin’ tip reaching for your deepest depths. The sensation of your cervix was just so smoooooth and spongy, and it takes you longer than it should’ve to realize that the notorious man had just bottomed out on your tight, tight pussy. 

You’re keening at the way your folds can do nothing but quiver n’ take and take. Gulping down those greedy inches that he was funneling over and over again into you—the scruff of his tawny happy trail scrapes your sensitive pussylips and you buck-

“And don’t think that you can run away.” He was amused.

For every millimeter that you were arching off of the mattress due to oversensitivity, Nanami was making up for it with yet another two rugged slams of his hips. He just loved that surprised expression upon your face when you found yourself being dragged right back, being manhandled, with a mere tug of his trained physique.

One hand on the right side of your waist.

One hand bracing his gluttonous base.

He furrows his brows and tightens his jaw as he haaaaauls you right back down- and soon enough, you’re finding that perhaps - perhaps - you’re shifting yourself away just to have him do it all over again.

And he indulges you, of course. Spearing between your glossed-up pussylips from tip to bottom end.

Fat inches that were making themselves at home.

Eventually, Nanami’s hungry gaze pins you down- first. Before the rest of his Herculean sculptured body chooses to rest further on top of you n’ glue your skin, your hips, to his own—preventing you from moving just a centimeter further than he wanted you to. Preventing you from shifting his determined cock around. He’s practically melding your bodies into one—he almost wishes he could.

Before Nanami had finally scoured ‘round your insides and located your g-spot. And he couldn’t have you moving around when his entire mission was to make you numb with pleasure, could he?

The heat between you two crackles in the air, and Nanami fucks you slow and shallow with his flared red tip. Rovering over that one spot-

“O-oh my god, oh my god, Kento—” Words slurring into one. Nearly indiscernible. 

And through your tears, you’re making out Nanami’s lips pursing into something gentle. “Shhhhh…” The breeze of his scorching pants waft over you, dialing your own body temperature up into something insatiable. Aphrodisiac or…no, just the two of you. “You’ve got this, my love- fuck, you’ve got this.”

“I…” Eyes scrunching shut. “N-never felt anything like this before, honey.”

“You can take it.”

“I am- I am-”

The way his thrusts were probin’ into you was just indescribable- though Nanami Kento might have been a gentleman to everyone that ever encountered him - and yes, you suppose that even included the targets for his missions - you were briefed and trained to see him as the complete opposite. 

Unlike most, you knew Nanami Kento as the agent…the danger…the target for your own mission.

But his cock was drilling into you over and over in sharp, rapid thrusts and you’re thinking that perhaps you hadn’t been so correct about him after all…

Calculated thrusts.

Nanami was making sure that you were wringing out the maximum amount of pleasure from each one of them. Not wasting time between smooching the door to your womb—thud-thud-thud. And between reeling his hips all the way back until your cunt was wet and gaping around where the circumference of his tip was the fattest. The neediest. Red-hot.

And then he’d be sliiiiiiding one of his most prominent veins down the middle along the most tender of your nerves. Kissing it.

Making white-hot bliss burst through your body as he’s managing to hit eeeevery single fucking orifice that made you swoon. Those large arms of his cage you safely, and Nanami already knows by now that you’re drunk on his hips. “Feels good, yeah?” He asks you-

And you almost have the heart to respond with something feisty—well, obviously. But the sincerity in his eyes makes you prattle out, “Feels s-soooo good. Didn’t even know that it could feel this good…”

He smiles proudly, “Yeah? Oh yeah—” Patting your sensitive clit with his abdomen, “And how’s the- haaaaaah, fuuuck, keep squeezing me like that- How’s the speed, my love?”

“P-perfect…” Cockdrunken. Bed creaking.

But Nanami merely nods and licks at the walloping amounts of saliva pouring from one end of your mouth and onto the silken covers of the pillows. “Mhmmmmm…and what else? How’s the angle?”

Your eyes damn-near bulge out of your skull. “The- angle—oh.” Just then, he’s adjusting his hips just the slightest few degrees so that his bludgeoning cock would hit a fresh new target tilted slightly upwards to the roof of your cut. And you’re practically yowling out, “That one- ngh, that’s the one.” Nails possessively claiming his back with countless scratches and indentations of your nails, “P-pleeeeease keep that one, Kento.”

“Like it that much, huh?” He hums to himself, “But of course, m’not gonna change it when s’my wife’s favorite.”

In a small thank-you, you’re craning your head up and attempting to kiss him. 

He meets your lips halfway, but don’t think that that’s the only thing his vicious hips could do.

“Now now, don’t tap out…” Nanami grunts n’ shudders to himself—he has to gnaw down on the plushness of his bottom lip to compose himself at least somewhat. “And how about the feeling of my balls- hah- feel how biiiiiig and heavy they are, just for you?”

Struck and feeling his cadence accelerating, you can only nod and nod.

“Feel how rock-hard I am for you?”

Nodding.

“Feel the way I- fuck, the way m’only getting harder?”

Nodding.

“Feel the way your g-spot just throbs whenever I’m near?” His crowned and hungry tip pauses just to prove his point, and you’re dragging your nails down his biceps with a disappointed whine. A call to continue if there was any.

To which he does.

Harder than before- pap-pap-papping—! the front of his hips against yours.

“And feel the way m’pumping out so much- fuck- precum?” Just then - as if on fucking cue - you’re feeling a wet draaaaag of his pre being pushed deeper inside you. Pooling on layers on top of your cervix n’ swirling around every time you’re being moved, “Shit, m’gonna make a mess again. See what you do to me?”

“I do-”

Nanami scoffs, “You know I’d do anything to make you feel good, my love.” Boring those golden eyes into yours- yes, they looked damn golden in this lighting and in the hazy state of your mind. “Anything-”

One of his thick hands scrape down your front- they were the hands of someone that’s trained and worked and fought to get to where he is today. And you’re shivering at the slight callouses that massage you—

Your husband continues, “Never think that you’re- hah, any less loveable- desirable, because of anyone or anything before.” And despite the fact that you two were connected on levels, physical ones, that were the farthest they could go…it still feels the most intimate once he rests his clammy forehead onto yours and whispers. “Because I’m here- fuck.”

Toes curling atop his shoulders - doesn’t matter how much you’re thrashing them out of sheer pleasure at the stretch, he’s taking every bruise head-on. “Yes, yes, yes—mmm, yes…fuck, it shouldn’t feel this good- ngh, legally it shouldn’t feel this good.”

“When have we ever cared about the legal labels?”

Those pearly whites of his gnaw down on your lips n’ drag you into a kiss. 

He utters, “Because your Kento’s here.”

Whimpering up at him when all the constant kissin’ at your g-spot almost gets too much to bear. So overstimulated. “A-and why do you say that, Kento?”

He could coo at the cute way you’re asking that question.

With your legs shakily squeezing around his neck, with your lips trembling and threatening to escape a sob. The way your cunt swallowed him up and dragged him to the very depths of your cunt was almost dizzying for him to feel—and he knows his balls were thwacking so hot and headily against the forefront of your cunt. He knows he’s close.

He knows the patterns of his zig-zagging veins were outlining themselves upon either side of your walls- he could feel it.

He knows that these were the pearly gates of heaven themselves. Opened right with your legs.

And Nanami has to force himself to not fucking throw his head back with a thunderous groan—more to hear your sweet, sweet noises than anything. And instead, he nuzzles his sweaty face into the crook of your neck and lets out looooow, trundling whispers. “You’re s-seriously asking me that, my love? Don’t mock me-”

“I’m not-”

“Because the answer should be obvious.” And this is the first and only time that the Nanami Kento would interrupt you on any matter. “S’because I’m fucking made for you, aren’t I?”

And with that being said, it seems his cadence is only growing faster. Harder. Hittin’ your lower half at what, to you, almost feels like the speed of light - his blushin’ tip only grows bigger and concrete-hard as he keeps jutting into the crevices of your cervix.

Running the lines of his veiny shaft down your channel all the while—

Soon enough: your pulsing clit finds home between Nanami’s thumb and index finger. 

On his left hand.

Which meant the stark frigidness of his wedding ring was making your body thrust itself into the throes of pleasure - not quite cumming, though considering just how overstimulated you were, you wouldn’t be surprised if you ended up shattering all over him without any warning. Instead, you’re finding your mouth babbling away whatever stupid concoction of words was entering your mind- “A-and how can you say that-”

“That’s because I’m your husband.” He kisses your forehead softly once more, “Forget all those other boys and whoever that came- hah, before me, darling. They’ve never yearned—ached, prayed for this pussy like I have…”

A disbelieving laugh bubbles up at your throat, “Y-yearned—? K-Kento, you can’t be serious.”

His dazed eyes widen, mouth stupidly agape. “Dead fucking serious.”

What’s the word to describe him…enamored? In…love? Pussy-whipped? But in all the best ways.

And he himself didn’t sound like he could compute the words that were falling from his mouth. Escaping, more like. He tut-tuts, “My wife…I fear I don’t even- haaaah, know who I am without this pussy. She’s all I’ve been thinking about these past few days. She’s all I’ve been…hungry for. She’s all I’ve been- fuck, needing to make myself run to the b-bathroom and jerk myself off until I see stars—”

“S-stars-” Repeating breathlessly to yourself. Such words from him of all people…especially when it pertained to you…you just couldn’t believe it.

“Making you feel good as your husband is my only goal, my love.” And he means it so earnestly- from anyone else you would have scoffed and rolled your eyes. But Nanami’s staring into your widely-blown peripherals as though he was exposing every shred and fissure in his soul.

He rolls his thumb over the nub of your clit.

Your voicebox raggedly wrenches out, “All this time you’ve…”

And fuck- he’s so far gone that he can’t hold back the fucking lewd grin as he admits—

“All this time-” Planting one chaste peck on your forehead while he fucks you, “-your husband has been-” Then another one on your right cheek, “-a damn pervert waiting for you to catch him.” In more ways than one. And then a final one on your left cheek.

He pulls away and admires you.

“And how does that make you feel, my wife?”

“It m-makes me feel…” Spit drivels from the leaky orifice of your mouth along with a few whining pleas here and there. And before Nanami’s lust-hazed brain can begin to compute it, you’re reaching outwards and grabbing ahold of yet another fistful of his hair.

Dragging him towards you with a persistent few tugs.

Surprise and arousal flash across his face and steep into his already-agonized expression once you pull him close enough.

You enunciate up at him, “It makes me feel like m’gonna cum, soon…” Eyes flapping shut, chest arching up into his firmly-toned one. You hiccup, “-my husband.”

His hips stutter sloppily.

But you weren’t done just yet—“A-and I know you’re close, too.” Gaze flickering down to the briefest flash of his bulbous, red tip as he pulls out- only to be shoved between your pussylips once more. Again and again. “I want you to not hold back, Kento. No matter how hard it is- ngh, don’t hold back on me.”

He repeats, breathlessly. “Don’t hold back…don’t…” Nodding and nodding. 

And then you’re watching the line of his vision sharply stray to something above your head-

To the discarded fabric of his favorite tie.

And do you know how many times spies have been trained to get out of and create restraints? You don’t think it takes Nanami even two heartbeats to swipe the tie somewhere from the headboard and reach behind you to loop around your wrists.

Pinning them together.

Tying them blindly.

Tugging you to him with a flex of his muscles.

You’re being manhandled like so through a few slammin’ stripes down on the innermost layer of your pussy- he seemed to be reaching even deeper with this slight change in position.

“Please-” You can’t catch your breath fast enough—and the sheer sensation of Nanami throwin’ you around like a ragdoll whilst he fucked you like an absolute gentleman was enough to make you stutter out in just a few more moments- “P-please…Kento, m’gonna cum-”

Smack! The skin of his pelvis practically glues against yours. “Cum on your husband’s cock, my dear.”

And with the most sinful, squelching sound of your thighs tightening around his waist- you’re cumming. The fifth time tonight; it sears through every vessel in your body stronger and faster than you remember any previous orgasm being.

A buzzing electricity- turned zapping.

Curdling at the pit of your stomach and making you arch up into Nanami as many times as your limbs could weakly carry you…

Your heels claw ravaged marks down his shoulders, “C-cumming-” Babbling out as stars of pleasure formulate and burst behind your eyes, “Kento—fuck. Fuck, Kento, it feels so good—” 

“Fuck.” He grunts himself.

Entire body shaking as the wave of euphoria roars over you.

Flashing and overstimulated.

Then you’re peering up at him with tear-filled eyes, “Kento, I want you to cum, too-”

And that’s when it hits him.

Almost as if his body had been waiting for permission from you this entire time, as though he’d react to you above anything or anyone else. Orders. Though they were ones that his brain would gladly follow- Nanami throws his head back just a little and stammers his hips.

The round curve of his tip plasterin’ against your sweet, spongy cervix and holding there for a few seconds—before he, too, ends up giving into his pleasure.

Making you cum five times and this was the first time he’s cumming inside.

Brows knitting, his strong jaw drops ever-so-slightly ajar as he feels a sensation like never before. No matter how much of his creamy white cum he’s emptying out- your cushy walls were sucking him up for more, more, more…“Sh-shit—you don’t know what you do to me.” And with that said, he’s raising his knee up and setting it where the pillow underneath your hips was, “I think you a-already know what this pillow is for, hm?”

Nodding, “I do I do-” You could’ve guessed either way.

Especially by the way the spurs of his cum were barreling inside- being fucked deep inside. Deep inside. And because of the positioning of your hips, no matter how much you jostle or buck, his hot wads remain webbin’ up every orifice inside.

Glued to your cervix like adhesive.

The pillow only helped if you wanted to…expand the family.

Another toe-curling burst of pleasure runs through him at the mere thought of it, and Nanami turns his head to kiss the pretty side of your calf. Legs still limply wrapped around his head.

He hums, “And does this go against your mission, my assassin?”

You’re shaking your head.

Quite frankly, the only other thing you can think to do is to tug him closer with your lower half. 

Nanami’s shaft was thick and throbbing—burnished red at the top and polished with so many layers of cum. Hot puddles of it. He was making sure not to waste a single - not even a single - drop of it as he emptied out inside, though the sheer force of his thrusts did end up frothing some of his powdery-white cum between your trembling legs. So full that you were leaking from your hole.

He spits down on your stuffed pussy, fingers twiddling on your clit. “Then how about trying to kill me by milking me dry next?”

His heavy balls clench.

Your jaw drops.

And it really wasn’t just the aphrodisiac. 

You are the one that won’t be making it out of this alive.

.

.

.

“—no…no, it’s not for a lack of resources. No- no one’s threatening me.” Speaking sharply into the receiver of the payphone, the crackle of your elders echoes in your ears. You’re sure that you’re sending the Garden headquarters into an uproar by this point—you’re sure that everyone’s gotten the word.

The Phantom is quitting her line of work.

And though you suppose it wasn’t necessarily against policy to finally quit being an assassin, you just don’t think anyone would have bet that you’d be the next.

And in the booth next to you was Nanami Kento, on the phone with his own higher-ups.

You’re eyeing the handsome man through the translucent screen of plastic in-between, and he’s catching your eyes and shooting you a reassuring smile. He seemed to be having a much easier time with whoever was on his end, meanwhile you…Scoffing at the next accusation they throw out, “No, I’m not drugged or coerced or going to trade secrets with anyone-”

Another higher-up bellows something.

“Look, I’m going to post you my resignation letter and that is that. I just wanted to tell you all personally- think of it as my last duty to you.”  And with a sigh you’re beginning to push away from the receiver, “Don’t contact me again, kindly. Or you can—send assassins after me for all you care, we both know how that’s going to go down.”

The phone gets sternly put back in its place.

And you know that they won’t try to mess with you.

You know that.

They didn’t call you The Phantom for nothing - your presence still haunted the Garden when you weren’t there. As you’re making your way out of the booth, you’re realizing that your husband had wrapped up his call and was waiting for you outside.

Hands in his coat pockets. Fingers inching automatically towards yours once you’re outside.

He’d been nagging at you on getting a warmer covering layer recently, and Nanami doesn’t hesitate to shrug off his own jacket and insist upon you wearing it. Though he wasn’t a very loud man, his affection was practically palpable.

And you’re almost feeling shy walking down the street in what was obviously his coat, whilst he stuffed your joined hands into the pocket of your coat - one that he was now wearing. 

Eventually, you ask. “I assume your call went well, Kento?”

He sighs something half-fond, “Yeah…” And though it was true that both of you had been wanting out from these careers for some time now, it was still a wistful affair. 

It was just last week that Nanami had filed in his report on the Zenin family; revealing some corrupt ties and nonsensical numbers in their business that’d been blown across every news station, magazine, and forum you could think of in the past few days. Zenin Naobito had been arrested, of course, transferring the title of heir to none other than Fushiguro Megumi, your son’s best friend. And though the two of you weren’t working for your organizations anymore, you’d both promised to keep a firm eye on the boy to make sure that he wasn’t being pressured or made to live older than his age anytime soon.

You’re squeezing Nanami’s hand softly, and he looks at you with a smile. Continuing where he’d left off, “They were hesitant, but I think they understood. I think they saw - even before I did - that this was a long time coming.”

“They let you go that easily?”

“Yeah.” He closes his eyes and exhales deeply, “I’m free.”

And you’re doing the same.

You’re both free.

Once you’re opening your eyes, it’s to look at the other side of Shibuya Crossing - where Itadori and his two familiar best friends were standing and waving at the two of you. Furiously. They laughed and bickered about who was waving the hardest. “So romantic—!” You think you hear Kugisaki squeal even from here.

You chuckle as you wait for the light to turn green.

Looking up at the blue, blue sky. “It’s a beautiful day, isn’t it?”

“It is.”

A/N. No idea how this got so long erm- also Happy Avurudu to anyone that celebrates!!

Now, the first time had been rather a shock—to both you and the flutter of attendants who’d happened upon the parchment. You certainly didn’t have any close acquaintances nor prospects entertained whom were so dedicated to deliver a letter at the splinter of daybreak (and a brief interrogation of your personal ladies-in-waiting showed that they’d seen nothing of who’d been slipping you notes at night). 

It had to be someone from the palace, however - if they managed to deliver these letters so frequently and so easily.

Though most nobles sent their correspondences upon dishes of pure silver, with an attendant from their court that would recount every detail of your reaction to them later. But this one had no staff attached to it, no emblem, no name. No identity in the very least.

Nothing but slanted, slightly trembling words as if the writer’s hand had been caught in an inescapable tremor the entire time. And the flower.

Every morning, once you excitedly unfurled the little pink ribbon that tied the letter up, a small yellow daffodil would fall from inside. As if a piece of the early morning sunlight, plucked from the skies, placed in your hands, you’d roll the stem between your fingers as you read through the letter.

Each word more tantalizing than the last.

You’d tried to spend the night awake on several occasions, of course, to catch this romantic culprit in the act. But the only thing that served you was a few hours of sleep, and a thoroughly cranky elocution teacher once you kept nodding off during class - and no admirer, evidently. And yet you’d still awoken to the neatly tied-up parchment in the morning. 

Like a phantom in the night.

The letter was the first sign of daybreak itself.

When that scheme had found itself utterly useless, you’d taken to warning your personal knights stationed outside your royal chamber - certainly not to get your admirer caught, rather to find out just a morsel of information about them. A morsel.

Yuji and Nobara had been rightfully horrified, though you’d insisted that whoever this was meant no harm! 

You suspected that your admirer snuck into your room in the few minutes between the knights changing their stations: Yuji and Nobara would be set firmly outside until midnight, and any dark hours past that would have your doorstep occupied by knights Choso and Yaga. Two of the most trusted knights in all the kingdom, with all the accolades to prove it.

And it certainly helped that Choso had been your personal knight for the past two years - though you’d been friends for far longer than that. Always at your side, always staring down nobles that overstepped, always offering his hand out to you when a step was too steep.

He was your rock. He is.

He’d been one of the court advisor’s sons, your age. You remember being a young royal unaware (or perhaps uncaring) of the duties that loomed for you in the horizon; spending summer mornings playing tag with Choso and a few of the other children in the palace, and winter nights breezing through books and time like sand—just the two of you in that grandiose library. His father resided in a modest estate not too far off from the palace, and Choso cried every time he had to say goodbye to you. Every single day.

You grew the most close with Choso.

And once he had come of age, he’d promptly signed up to become a knight. 

Through training and nutrition plans, and battles and scars, Choso had climbed up the ranks faster than any other you’ve ever seen. Though he was still as tender-hearted as you remembered him - he’d shed a few tears the day he was assigned to a brief battle on the outskirts of the kingdom. Away from you.

But you’d simply wiped away his tears and cooed in a low voice that your elocution lessons hadn’t taught you to—come back to me soon, Cho.

And he had.

The battle with the Zenins had ended, and Choso Kamo had returned as the kingdom’s most celebrated warrior. It’s whispered to this day amongst the palace staff how he’d kicked off his saddle in town, run past all the bubbling celebrations- straight to the royal palace where he’d waded past the congratulating courts and straight to you—

All in platonic friendship, of course.

Of course.

But you suppose it didn’t help quell the rumors when Choso rejected your father, the King’s, offers of estates and riches. Of lifetimes of luxury. He’d stood before the royal court and bowed his head, having only one request of the monarch: to be your personal knight. Forevermore until he breathes.

And how could one say no to the turning point of the battle?

And thus, he’d become your knight. Yours.

You suppose it was around this time that the letters had started, too…

You clutch this morning’s letter to your chest and breathe in the smell of fresh ink, leather, and the faintest hint of summer vanilla that dripped off of the page. It was always this scent that followed your admirer’s ardent declarations, and soon enough every time you passed the gardens or poked at a vanilla dessert, you couldn’t help but think of him. 

A knock interrupts your thoughts and you startle.

Pushing the letter carefully underneath your pillow, “Come in.”

The towering double doors of your bedroom had small gilded swirls on it, which, if you stepped back, melded together to form an image that looked like the clouds above. Frothing and tumbling and swirling. Heaven itself. How oddly poetic that through these gates of heaven would walk in Choso Kamo, his knight’s armor catching the rays of morning sunlight.

His visor was pushed up to reveal his face.

His features were sharp and handsome.

His doe-like brown eyes were the envy of the courts.

He looks at you in your thin nightgown and flushes- “Y-your Highness—!”

Choso’s armor clanks and clutters as he hurries to turn away from you, and soon enough you find yourself staring at the knight’s broad back. Chiselled after so many years of training. Bringing a hand up to your lips you have to stifle a giggle at the sheer contrast- “My dearest knight, does it disgust you to gaze upon me like so?”

“Th-the furthest thing from it, Your Highness.” He sputters, and you swear you catch the back of his neck - just the slightest slit you could see between his armor plates - burning bright red. Blushing.

“Do you believe me of unsound character, then?” You challenge, “Do you believe me a harl-”

“Bear not the thought!”

“Then turn.”

He does—barely. Just enough degrees that you can see his handsome side profile, and he can stare at you through his peripheral vision- though that, too, is largely obscured by his helmet. “Forgive me…” Choso gulps. “-but the mere sight of you is not suited to be gazed upon by this lowly knight, my princess.”

“You have been within ames-ace of Yaga for far too long.” You tut.

But you’re still reaching for the gold-laced robe draped over the edge of your bed - your attendants had placed it there last night. Choso was always the first to greet you in the morning.

And it’s only once he’s completely sure that the robe now covered the beautiful angles and curves of your body, that is obscured from him what is Eve’s most beautiful apple, does he turn to face you. Only to find that he had spent so long mustering up the courage, that you’d already dipped underneath your pillow and pulled out-

“Yet another letter, Your Highness?” Choso queries, and you nod. 

It was requisite that such an occurrence must be shared with your personal knight - most of all, your friend. And you didn’t feel the need to hide it from Choso as you did with your parents—perhaps because you knew his duty was to you, above all. You above the crown. “Oh, you shan’t believe it- today they wrote the most romantic line about how their heart beats simply to count their time beside me—”

Choso gives a jerky nod, “And the flower?”

“As always.” You’re pinching the little flower where it had been laid safely on top of your decadent pillow, showing it to him.

Your best friend takes one look at it and breaks out into an almost…relieved smile. “I see- he really is a stubborn old fool, isn’t he?”

“Oh, don’t call him a fool.” You huff. Turning away with your flower, “I think he’s just lovely.”

“Suppose he is a fool?” Choso probes, “Suppose he isn’t of great wits- would you still think he’s lovely?”

You furrow your brows at him, “But, of course. Intelligence cannot be measured by how many dusty books you read. Despite that, I believe that one would be of rather sound wits should they wish to compose letters this beautiful.”

There’s a pause. “Then suppose he isn’t rather pleasant to look at?”

“Beauty is in the eye of the beholder.” You counter stubbornly. “I think that I should find them quite beautiful either way.”

“Then suppose he’s a commoner?”

“That is the last thing I would fuss about-”

“But what if he’s a…” Choso starts- and as you wait for him to finish—he shakes his head. Giving you a light bow, “I apologize for getting carried by the conversation, Your Highness. I have just been reminded of my orders to urge you into prompt preparation to receive some very special guests today. I have summoned your ladies-in-waiting, they are stationed at the third royal baths.”

“Guests?” You ask. The palace always did have a constant flow of royals and nobles and merchants and people of the public going in and out, and rarely did you have to make a personal accompaniment with them. “What special guests may we—”

It’s then that you look at your calendar of quarter days: social days and tutoring days, and a day circled in rouge.

Today.

“Ah…”

.

.

.

Dearest gentle reader, 

Royal gossip has always been the lifeblood of the Ton—particularly this year, with the debut of our Royal Highness, the princess, this social season. Rumors have been a-swirling for quite some time now, speculation about just which eligible gentleman will be lucky enough to win over the beautiful royal’s hand in marriage: perhaps a fair noble, perhaps the richest merchant of the land, perhaps a prince from a far-away land. The possibilities are endless!

Our dignified royal family has always been rather private about such matters regarding their princess, but today this humble writer is here to put these whispers to rest, my dear reader.

My most trust-worthy sources inform me of a royal fleet that has docked in our harbor early in the morrow—a fleet with none other than the Zenin family insignia upon its flag!

Now, before you fear another military skirmish with the ever-ruthless Zenin family, gentle reader, let me assure you that my insiders state this royal visitation to not be an act of warfare. Rather…of romance.

Some claim an age-long betrothal, some claim a political marriage in the works.

The cauldron of curiosity bubbles even further once you learn that the Zenin family, including His Highness Naoya Zenin, shall be paying a royal visit to the palace today! And some members of the royal knights claim they shall take extra precaution, and that Her Highness’s personal guard - a handsome young knight by the name of Choso Kamo - is to be with her at all times. Ooo la la!

It will certainly make it difficult for either Prince Naoya nor any other…admirer to get close to the princess (the palace walls talk, gentle reader, and some of my sources claim the presence of a second interest in Her Highness’s life—secret letters being hand-delivered every single night!) 

But that is neither here nor there, and your writer is certainly not planning a visit to the royal dungeons in the near future!

Yours Truly,

Lady Whistledown.

.

.

.

“—such a beautiful garden-” Naoya’s lip curls as he looks out of the tall, sun-lit window at the rolling field below. Your parents barely have enough time to open their mouths in response before he continues, “-but of course, ours is much larger. Second only to our stables and the incredible militia grounds that we have-”

Everyone in the meeting hall closes their mouth, quenches their hope for speaking at least for the next twenty-five minutes.

You learn within the first few moments of meeting him that Naoya Zenin liked hearing his own voice, and any time he wasn’t, he was replaying his own voice over and over inside his head. You also learn that you don’t like him in the slightest.

Which makes being betrothed to him all the more difficult.

It had been a political alliance- or so your father had briefed you one night several months ago. Calling you into his office, holding your hand, he had let you cry on his shoulder for the first time in years that night.

To unite two people who had been locked in a bloody border war for far too long - that was your duty.

And this marriage was the key.

It had been long enough to let the finality of it sink in, and not nearly as long enough for it not to sting. Still. It hurt like a hot iron embedded in your heart once you had to curtsey for the prince. 

He had barely bowed back.

And now the two royal families - as well as several esteemed members of your council - were spread out in the grand meeting hall. Watching as the blond-haired royal turned his nose up at the plate of intricate desserts offered to him by a male attendant—he flicks his hand at the boy and orders the woman standing beside him to do it.

The woman being no one else but the most talented healer in all the land. 

Shoko Ieri looks ready to stab him with her scalpel.

“Compensating.” A low whisper sounds from behind you.

You don’t have to turn to know that it’s Choso- but you do anyway. And your heart flutters just a little as you spy his warm brown eyes through the gaps of his visor, “Pardon?”

He repeats, “Compensating.” Nodding towards Naoya who had now roped your mother into a spiel about his armory.

“—we boast the largest swords in the entire world, you see.” Naoya was bragging in his grating tone, and your poor mother could only nod. “The best- the biggest. Any old cod can claim that size doesn’t matter and yet our biggest swords are-”

You can’t help it - you catch Choso’s eye and you both have to force yourselves from bursting into a fit of chuckles.

Both turning into each other.

Your hand clutching Choso’s arm for support.

Choso’s gentle hum of laughter breezing the top of your head.

Only too late do you realize that everyone in the room had their eyes turned to you - each in varying degrees of horror at the proximity between a princess and her knight. Except for Shoko who had gone from glowering at the prince to looking somewhat…knowing.

Damn you, Shoko—you’re half-heartedly cursing her out in your head as you straighten up. Trying not to flinch as Choso follows and takes a step backwards to stand behind you.

As a knight is told to be.

You can’t see the expression on Choso’s face nor his demeanour, but what you do know is the familiar creaking of metal as your best friend sags in on himself. Almost shielding himself from the world underneath all that armor. 

Perhaps from it.

You notice that he always did so whenever someone in court made his place known: whenever they flickered their eyes between the two of you, whenever they pushed their noble sons to greet you, whenever they questioned just why a knight was allowed to even look at the princess like so.

He took it all to heart. Crumpled it up inside, and in doing so he crumpled that beating thing as well.

You wanted to say something—but you knew you couldn’t.

And, of course, it’s Naoya who speaks first. “Hmm, once we are wed then I shall have to make sure that such a thing is not repeated.”

“There is no such thing to speak of.” You speak through a grit smile.

“So you say—” He takes a bite of a puff pastry and places it back on the golden plating, “-but as your husband, it is I who shall have the final say.”

Yell strangled in your throat, you take a step forward-

Only for your father to sense the growing tension and ease his way in, “So is that to say a royal wedding might be on the horizon?”

Naoya takes his sweet time answering, “Well…” Looking straight at you as he contemplates, he wipes off a bit of leftover vanilla cream from the edge of his lip and flicks it. “That is what I’m saying, Your Majesty.”

Your father claps his hands heartily, “Send for the wedding preparations right away—! Oh, and draft the announcement for the-”

But you don’t hear a single word.

It feels numb.

It feels like something’s buzzing inside of your head.

You’re unsteady on your feet until a cold metallic hand reaches out and clasps hold of you.

You know it’s Choso and you do not let go.

.

.

.

Your heart aches at the letter you receive on the morning afterwards: the morning of the official announcement.

“My dearest princess, cry not.

Cry not—for a single drop of your tears is worth more than all the raindrops in heaven, all the rays of sunlight kissing the Earth, and all the beats of my heart. 

It has been running rattle-brained, foolishly wild, these past few hours as I stagger upon the thought that I may lose you. Not that this lowly admirer had you in the first place, my dearest princess, you must forgive me for my presumption. But in every little way in which you are mine, I gain to lose you still.

Cry not for a man that should not cry for you, my dearest princess. Cry not for a man that cries for you still.

And I…above all I am a selfish man. I am a selfish man—utterly selfish—and should all the world’s laws be up to me, then you and I, should you wish it, would have been married four summers past.

Alas, I am overruled.”

You’re dressed for the public.

And once you’re escorted to the royal balcony where all palace announcements are conducted, you look up from the ground just in time to see Yuji catch Choso’s eye. The long-haired man behind you shakes his head.

Though you’re not quite sure what it means, it somehow makes you feel all the more worse.

.

.

.

Dearest gentle reader, 

Though it is not in good manners for a lady to gasconade, allow this writer here to tell you that I had proclaimed so—a royal wedding is forthcoming!

You have read that right, dear reader!

Don your best silks and gather your best florals, for soon her Royal Highness, the princess, shall be wed to Prince Naoya Zenin. According to what was proclaimed at the most recent palace announcement, a grand wedding is to take place in a week’s time, immediate after the Royal Diamond Ball, to celebrate the union. Though experts speculate that this marriage is likely of political origins rather than the heart-fluttering romance that some think, one thing is for certan—His Highness, Naoya Zenin, certainly seemed to take the affair in stride.

Witnesses to the official announcement claim that the prince simply couldn’t keep the smile off of his face at the thought of his beautiful new bride (though others claim that it’s due to his imminent rise to the throne thereafter, as he isn’t the first heir to the Zenin Family—however, you didn’t hear that from me, dear reader!)

Others at the site were more entranced by none other than the princess’s trusty personal knight - Choso Kamo was expectedly standing guard beside Her Highness. But what caught the attention of eagle-eyed onlookers was rather the…expression upon his handsome face.

You could not pay me to name a more heart-broken man, dear reader! You could not!

Perhaps this is an omen of how the wedding preparations are being handled behind the curtains? Perhaps this is an omen of…something more?

This writer has a personal inkling about the reasons as to why knight Choso might have looked at Her Highness with nothing less than sorrow (did somebody say tears in his eyes?) 

And amongst this roulette of wishful men I know you’re asking me—but Lady Whistledown, what of the princess’s secret admirer? 

Well—you’ll be happy to know that I come with reliable insight that the secret delivery of love letters has yet to cease! Yes, gentle reader, this particular admirer seems quite passionate in their affections. Even going so far as to send one just after the announcement. Should the letters have yet to halt now, one can only imagine whether they shall stop even after the royal wedding.

The prince. The admirer. The knight (perhaps?) How can one choose?!

Yours Truly,

Lady Whistledown.

.

.

.

“Big brother-”

“No-”

“Big brother, I simply state that-”

“Quiet, Yuji.” 

Choso’s tone comes out harder than he’d intended, and his chest clenches at the wounded look in the younger boy’s eyes. Without wasting a single second, and without looking to see if anyone was nearby, he’s lunging forwards and embracing the boy into his arms.

Holding him just as he had when they were children and the pink-haired one would fall and bruise himself- though the only one that feels bruised right now is Choso.

It had been a week since the wedding announcement.

And all preparations had been in full swing: enough so that between all the dress-fittings, and the flower-pickings, and the guest-greetings, Choso hadn’t even had the time to exchange a proper conversation with you. Not that he was in the place to - especially not anymore.

Tonight was the Royal Diamond Ball of the season, where one Diamond shall be picked, always taking place inside the palace.

Except, this time, it had doubled in both extravagance and guest-list due to the simple fact that tonight was also the grand ball before your wedding. Tomorrow morning you would walk down the aisle in a dress of white.

Tomorrow morning you will be another’s wife.

He hugs his younger brother tight, “Yuji, I apologize for my brash words-”

“You have nothing to apologize for.” Yuji finally breaks the hug, “I was simply careless with my own words.”

“You were not-”

“I just don’t understand why you can’t be happy- why both of you can’t be happy. Together.” He looks away, eyes filling with tears he knows wouldn’t encompass even the tiniest fraction of what his brother has shed over this very reason. “It’s just not fair.”

“Some things…some things are meant to be the way they are.” Choso stares ahead at the gilded hallway spread out before him, “We must simply persist.”

Yuji looks as though he wants to say something more- but at that very moment, the doors to your royal chamber are opening. The two knights had been stationed there until you were fussed-over and all dolled-up for the Royal Diamond Ball tonight - the last as an unwed princess. The last before you were bound to Naoya Zenin.

And looking at you now, Choso thinks that it would’ve been worth it to cut down the wedding and all its procession for you.

Because there wasn’t a word to describe you.

The soft champagne of the taffeta draped over your shoulders and puffed up fashionably at your arms, cascading down in a waterfall of expensive silks up to your ankles. Following were glistening pearls that only brought out the beauty of the dress - your beauty - wrung at the edges of your hem and necklines. Delicate bracelets where your hands were gloved. A singular diamond hanging from your neck. And of course—your tiara.

It weighed heavily on your head.

Your ladies-in-waiting had dabbed on a bit of glittering rouge on your lips.

It was all that Choso could stare at.

You weren’t just bound to be the Diamond of the season, you were a diamond from the night sky. And he’s still trying to find a word to describe you that he knows wouldn’t come close, not even in a hundred of his l—

“Choso?” You cock your head gently at him. Trying not to bite down on your lower lip in nervousness and smear your attendants’ hard work, “Is something the matter-”

“Enchanting.” He blurts out- but that wasn’t enough. Would never be enough.

You look at him with slightly widened eyes, and he wouldn’t take the word back anyway. He looks at you and says in a more firm tone, “You look enchanting, my princess.”

You try - and fail - to bite back a smile—and ultimately end up swatting him on his armored chest. “Enchanting? Do not think that flattery shall stop me from forcing you into a dance tonight.”

“Ah—foiled again!” He dramatically looks to the skies.

“Fool.” You joking strike him again - Choso had dressed up for the occasion as well. His armor had been polished until it shined like a mirror, reflecting your own two ogling eyes back at you. Even the hilt of his blade looked deathly sharp.

He’d pushed his visor up and that gave you a glimpse of those two doe-like eyes, chestnut brown and warm. He was staring at you in a way that made you squirm.

Though Lady Whistledown’s society papers tended to use pretty prose, what they hadn’t lied about was this. Just how handsome he was.

“P-perhaps we ought to make our entrance.” You say.

And he nods in understanding, “We ought to—” But, what Choso realizes, is that he doesn’t understand at all.

And his breath hitches as you clutch onto his right arm with both hands. Attaching yourself against his side- how he wished he could feel the warmth of your body through his armor-

“These shoes are far too tall.” You fail to meet his eyes, “Forgive me, but if I could use a bit of support until-”

“Anything you want, my princess.” He breathes.

Your actual entrance into the grand ball is a blur - you’ve attended far too many of these in far too short a time before. It’s the crunch of velvet carpet underneath your too-tall shoes, and the strangely burning sensation of all eyes being directed at you. 

At the way you were still holding onto Choso.

You distance yourself from him silently, and he falls in step behind you. The master of ceremonies announces your name even though everyone here already knows it. The staircase is never-ending and unrelenting, each step louder than the thundering of your heartbeat, a staccato of what feels like your own unravelling.

You’re slightly off-kilter as you reach the end- before a hand shoots out to help you.

You grasp onto the man’s calloused hand gratefully, looking up to realize that it was Yaga. 

“Watch your step, Your Highness.” He helps you stand and wade through the crowd. As the head knight, Yaga had the freedom to forgo the armor tonight. It was a strong navy blue, nearly the entire chest of it covered in numerous medals and colors - warning off keen-eyed nobles from nearing. 

You catch sight of Naoya surrounded by ladies-in-wait by the feast-

Yaga’s voice breaks through, “What is it that’s on your mind, Your Highness?”

“Nothing.” You answer instantly, “It’s just- it must be pre-wedding jitters.”

“I see…” He looks at you intensely, and you feel as though he can see right through you. Know right through what you’re really feeling. “Then in that case, all is well, correct?”

“Correct.”

He almost smiles, “And you are ready to be wed to His Highness Naoya, correct?”

“C-correct.”

“And you shall be thinking of a certain knight- or a certain admirer on the altar, correct?”

“Correct-” You falter, “Excuse me?”

“Ah—it seems the orchestra is commencing.” Yaga looks into the distance where the violin players had started easing in soft trills, as if music itself had waited for your arrival. “Now, my back is certainly too weathered for such dances- but I shall hold you with me no longer, Your Highness.” He turns to you and gives you a gentle smile, “Go—have your first dance.”

You almost plead, “But with who?” Naoya was still…occupied with all the court ladies- not that you would ever in a million years want to dance with Naoya Zenin in the first place-

“Whoever your heart may desire.” Yaga interrupts your thoughts, letting go of your hand- though not before pressing in something delicate and flat into it. He looks somewhere behind you—“A letter, asked of me to hand to you. I only implore that you stay as true to your heart, as he is to you.”

As Yaga disappears into the crowd starting to twirl in their tulle skirts—you open that little piece of paper up.

A short message.

“My dearest princess,

Steps behind you, a vision I do not deserve to see. 

The most enchanting girl in the world to me.”

Enchanting.

The paper nearly falls out of your hand, and you can only look behind you - to where Choso Kamo was refusing to meet your eyes. His metallic visor was down and you couldn’t help but step closer.

Uncaring what they say as you’re reaching out and fastening it upwards- “Is this your penmanship, my dearest knight?”

He does not answer.

“Do you think I look enchanting, my dearest knight?”

He does not answer.

“Does your heart beat solely for me, my dearest knight?”

He does not answer.

“Do you not wish for me to be married—” At that, he flinches like a wounded animal. And you already know that he most certainly won’t be answering that question. Which is why you’re answering instead, “For I feel much the same towards you.”

He snaps his head up, glittering brown eyes pleading down at you. He breathes…“Of which sentiment?”

You smile, “All of it.”

“A-and the marriage-” Choso takes a jerky step towards you, his armor creaking like the weight of dungeon chains. “The alliance-”

“May I have this first dance?” You simply reach your hand out.

And as the music crescendos, he takes your hand and presses a kiss to the back of your head. Letting you lead into a golden floor.

Gasps deafen the ballroom music.

.

.

.

The Ton was a-flutter and a-ripe with scandal as you spent your first dance at the Royal Diamond ball with your knight instead of your betrothed. At least, that’s what you imagine - the truth is that you’d been too entranced with Choso Kamo to even pay attention.

He’d held you gently - so gently - as though his large hands could break you at any given moment. 

And Choso had never let his eyes stray from your figure as he twirled you around the ballroom. He would have cared about the whispered- he should have…but how could he when he had the most enchanting girl in the world in his arms?

Too soon- your dance was cut short by an arm on Choso’s shoulder. Stopping him.

You’d both turned to face Naoya Zenin, furious spit lining the edges of his lips. He had barked out a formal order for the knight to step aside and hand him your dance- and though Choso’s hand had gone to his sword…

You’d shaken your head at him.

It was a half-dance with Naoya (of which you’d excused yourself feigning networking duties) and a hastened walk to the edge of the ballroom. Right where Choso Kamo was attempting to blend into the gilded ballroom.

You’d nodded discreetly at him and he already knew—

With Yaga suddenly causing a commotion- accidentally spilling his red wine on Lady Mei Mei’s dress, no one had noticed the two of you slipping out after the second dance. Before the Diamond was announced.

He followed you silently, two steps behind as a knight should, all the way up to your royal bedroom.

It was only once you’d reached your towering double doors that you took Choso by hand- all but dragging the handsome knight inside. And though he’d squawked in surprise, you’d merely looked at your best friend with determined eyes.

“Take me, Choso.”

He gasps. His shudders.

He was going to ruin the princess.

CLANK!

CLANK!

CLANK!

CLANK!

Choso’s heavy armor fell to the ground—

CLANK!

The last of it before the knight scoops his strong arms underneath your legs and hoists you up into that princess carry you’ve read about in every fairy tale. Choso walks you gently over to the expansive bed, before setting you down and laying you all flat—

“Why’re you by the foot of the bed, Cho?” You’re huffing down at the man who was now pressed against the mahogany bedframe. He had his knees down on the soft carpet, kneeled at your feet. Grabbing onto one of Choso’s toned arms - still in a gauzy white poet’s shirt that had been worn underneath his armor - you attempt futilely to pull him upwards. “Come lay with me.”

Looking away with a blush. “Why…have you really not the faintest idea, my dearest princess?” Hearing those words from his mouth sends shivers down your spine. 

He looks at you with dark, half-lidded eyes. Hands spreading your thighs apart and sliding down the sides of your legs. Beneath those customary layers of silk. Choso’s hands keep roaming, and there’s a sudden rush of heat pulsing down to your core once you register his fingertips scraping the edge of your undergarments. 

Mouth falling slightly agape.

“I-It’s only customary to give the lady a kiss before the dance—”

You’re gasping as your brain registers the innuendo- but not before Choso dips his mouth down and gives your cunt a looooong kiss through your sodden panties. Open-mouthed and hot.

He draaaaags the tip of his tongue down your slit n’ tastes you for the first time. Letting a single droplet of your syrupy slick end up splashin’ on his tongue- and he fucking moans. Loud.

Just so husky and attractive that it makes your body buck up into him without even realizing.

And it’s all that Choso needs to let go of his inhibitions. It’s all that he needs to hold both your wrangling thighs down and press himself even deeper against your aroused cunt. Nose-deep. Chest heaving in such guttural puffs.

It’s as if the knight didn’t even need to breathe as long as he could reach deeper against your sopping slit. So wet that he’s feeling your puffy pussylips through the fabric of your underwear- he slashes his tongue between your folds and makes you rut-

“Wh-what is this feeling…ngh.” Unable to help but pipe up in a shrill tone, you struggle to keep your hand pressed against your noisy mouth.

And he doesn’t even answer.

He can’t.

He’s lurching his mouth back and forth at a frenzied pace—crazed. Licking his tongue all over the inches of your cunt he could reach, rubbin’ his ridged tastebuds up and down the swollen outer part of your pussy. 

You were just so damn soaked that it almost felt as if there was no barrier between your pussy and his ravenous mouth at all. Gaping even wider open and heavily kissing your pussy, he was almost thrusting his face against your sensitive cunt-

“Choso-” You gasp, your breaths all dampened. Hands weaving through his long brown hair for dear life. “Choso oh heavens—”

It was just too enchanting how your voice broke on the very last syllable of your sentence. And Choso can’t deny that it makes something carnal deep inside him twitch- “My dearest princess.”

“O-oh…” And you certainly didn’t expect his murmuring tone to send vibrations running up your spine like that.

Breathy. “Is that good, my dearest princess?” Choso’s mouth waters at the way his words only seem to make you splosh out in even more slick—gushing. It trickles greedily down either side of his mouth like two slick rivulates. And you can’t help but snap your head down and think that he looked utterly drunk - gaze half-lidded, lips puffy and red, forehead beading with sweat from his movements. Kissing. “My dearest princess.” Heaving. “My dearest princess.”

“P—please—” You’re trilling out, your head falling into the pillows behind you. “Choso, heavens, I beg of you to c-catch your breath-”

“And yet does it feel good, princess?”

That broken lil’ sentence of his punctuated by the most sloppy slash between your pussylips- smearin’ them apart and accurately pinpointing your clit. With the flexible tip of his tongue he presses inwards against that soft spot and makes you see stars.

Sends your hips rutting furiously against his pretty face, and your moans roaring. “Damn—fuck.” His cock throbs at the way he’d made such a poised, perfect princess break her demeanor. Swear- shit, he really was ruining you. “Fuck, yes- mmm, it feels so good.”

“Feels so good…what?” He’s rasping out.

And you have to blink through your film of tears down at him- “What?” He was now creating a rhythmic mwah of his lips down upon your clit - just lick upon lingering liiiiiick to drive you absolutely wild. 

“It feels so good—” He’s groaning out straight into your cunt, already knowing that you’d be left all tender with his voice And just then you feel two pointed canines snag against your throbbing nub and almost…bite. “-who?”

“Choso—” So that was what he wanted all along? To have you hiccup and squeal his name as he draaaagged his lips from corner to corner of your leaky crevice and lapped up every ounce you gave? To have you absolutely shattered- “Choso-”

“Yeeees?” Alternating between snagging his honed canines down your clit n’ suckling on it.

Like his most favorite candy from the feast downstairs- and yet, you’d be the sweetest dessert out of them all. He was making out with your pussy just like it, too. “Choso- fuck, Choso I didn’t have the daftest idea that you could ever—mmm, it just feels too good.”

“Feels good?” He’s gutturally gasping, teeth scraping through your panties and creating little tears. Wrapping his pink lips ‘round your clit and hollowing his cheeks out of sheer force- “This feels good?”

“Yes-”

Nibblin’ his pearly whites down on your undergarments and tearing it down your slit. Swipin’ his tongue back and forth- “This feels—good-”

“Yes.” You gurgle out. It’s more and more. 

It’s just the pinkish tip of his tongue that was proddin’ at your bundle of nerves. He slips it into a tiny hole town through your silken undergarments- and it’s enough to make your hips cleanly arch off the mattress. “Ch-Chosoooo—” 

Choso’s darkened eyes flap wider open- “Suppose that feels even better, my dearest princess?”

And all he really wanted to do was make you numb with pleasure.

All he really wanted to do was slobber his mouth across that sweetened cunt of yours until he couldn’t even breathe- he’d be satisfied by the fact.

And Choso isn’t even thinking twice before he’s weighing down on one of the tears in your panties - something that he’d done with his very own mouth. Now his crowned fingertips were pushing against the delicate fabric and making it rip-rip-riiiiiiiiiip—!

Not even all the way through.

Just enough for two of Choso’s rightly thick fingers to seep through your undergarments and kiss your hole dead-on.

You flinch as he’s spreading your entrance with the most lecherous slurp! The knobbled ends of his digits pushing aside both your pussylips and simply aiming for that cutely leaking hole- how in heavens were you this wet? This tantalizing?

Tasty.

Choso reaches his slick-gazed fingers out of your cunt and raises it up to his vision - glimmering in the pale moonlight with all your candied liquids - he doesn’t hesitate before plopping them straight into his mouth. His eyes roll to the back of his skull and Choso moans as he tastes you- 

“S-shoooo good—” 

Fuck, was he slurring his words?

You’re raising up onto your elbows to question him, “Choso, did you just-”

But Choso doesn’t seem to hear- Choso doesn’t even seem to have anything running through his mind right now except for you and your pretty pussy. You and your pretty pussy.

You and your pretty pussy that gapes just as he pumps a few inches of his fingers inside - cunt getting glossed in your clingy slick once he squeezes his way inside. He’s feeling for the way your sopping wet walls glue to him like adhesive- stopping him briefly in his tracks before Choso’s stickin’ a thumb on top of your clit and making you take him.

“C’mon-” He hisses between clenched canines, brows furrowing down in concentration. “C’mon c’mon—it feels good. Doesn’t it, princess?”

“It does-” Hiccuping - trying and failing to buck your hips up for more. But the only thing you’re doing is succeeding in having Choso slip a hand up to grab your waist, pinning your body down to the squeaky mattress with such ease.

Your knight’s keeping your body on a damn leash while he fucks out a slooooow and sensual tempo between your legs. Just the fatness of each finger roverin’ deeper spots inside your walls, you swear you can feel out every single stretch. “Easy there, princess.” He knew his princess’s body better, it seems. “It feels good, doesn’t it?”

“It does but—fuck.” And just then Choso’s hooking his fingers in an incredible way that leaves your legs weak. Plumply pushing against one bunch of your nerves and sending shockwaves up to your brain. “Fuck, I want more, Choso.”

“Patience, Your Highness.” Choso spits out- literally. A dangling ribbon of saliva that clings onto your pussylips n’ makes it easier for the first inch or two of his digits to slip inside.

“But Choso—”

“Patience.” He hums, low vibrations. The space between your legs lets out the most lecherous loud squelches as he’s probin’ in and out. Watching as your swollen pussylips stretch out aaaaaaaall wide open- 

He curls his lengthy digits against the velvety roof of your cunt. Making you just twitch, he’s grinning his slick-lipped grin. “I know you’re all needy right now, princess. But you need to learn to take it loooong and slow—” Emphasizing it by dragging his puffy digits along your walls and scissoring them multiple times. “-like that, see? That feels good, hm?”

“It does, but…” You pout.

Choso’s long lashes quiver, eyes widening slightly. “But?” Slightly crazed.

“But I want- hck!” Further pushing your slobberin’ cunt against his features, you’re dragging your most sensitive bits along his faces and shivering as it grazes his prominent nose. Desperately yowling, “But I want more-”

“Then command it.”

You snap your eyes open, “P-pardon?”

“Then command it.” But it still doesn’t sound real in your ears- ringing with pressure from his fingers slipping in and out. Hitting almost every spot you wanted him to—almost. He latches his mouth ‘round your clit once more and- he doesn’t suck. No.

Choso’s sinking his teeth into that perfect lil’ nub and draaaaagging it right out a centimeter or two until you scream. Fluttering his pretty lashes, “Aren’t you the princess, my dear?” Barely even waiting for your answer before your cunt squelches with a third one of his fingers- “Aren’t I your knight? Go on—command me.”

“P-please-” And Choso gnaws his teeth down even more meanly to stop you from using your royal manners. Until all you can do is bend your spine into the perfect curvature and puuush- grabbing onto his sweaty locks with absolutely no mercy. “Choso, I order you to go harder.”

His cock has never been harder. 

He’s not even giving you a warning before thwacking! a strike with three globular fingertips, all the way at the very gooey bottom of your pussy. Rasping. “Harder?”

“Faster.” You barely gasp. “Choso, I-I order you-”

“Faster?” As if the only thing he can do when he’s so focused on fucking your pussy in harsh, thumpin’ hammers is that mantra of your words. “What else? What else, my liege?”

“Leige…” Bouncing your hips up, up, up—you might be too gone on his perfectly girthy fingers to realize the way you were swervin’ your waist to and fro. Just letting his lengthy fingers navigate the slick maze inside of you, plump fingertips spearheading inside like a spotlight and curving against every spot. 

But Choso notices.

Of course, he notices.

He’s noticed every single thing about you, silent and stoic at your footsteps, for years. Always looking. Always admiring from afar—and he knows when you want something. “What else do you wish for, my princess? What else makes your pussy- hngh, feel good?” 

“I want you to h-hit that one spot-” You’re blubbering through your constant tears. Moving your hips just to the side so that his curvaceous fingers were nearing where you wanted him the most. “So close—oh.”

“Never tell me to do anything twice, Your Highness.” He mutters, tone shot. “I’m always at your service.”

And he was.

And he was shovin’ his fingers - almost thickened with how long they’d been inside you - straight against that bundle of your nerves. Against that crevice you’d heard dubbed as your g-spot from that scandalous literature hidden away at the back of the library…

And when Choso had found that particular spot, he was hitting it like a madman—

Once. Twice. Thrice.

The way he’d memorized just where it was and mapped out every single inch of space inside you was dizzying. The way he’d leave a few sultry split-seconds to twirl his bulbous fingertips against your g-spot before reeling back and thud-thud-thudding. “It feels good, right?”

He was back to that familiar mantra and it was sending zaps of power down your spine to realize just how breathy he sounded. Just how smoky. Just how shattered.

Choso was eating you out like he was going crazy with every lick up your weepin’ pussy crevice. Uuuuup and down and fightin’ against his very own fingers to stick the edge of his tongue inside your quivering hole. “It feels so-” You’re gripping onto the strands of his hair stupidly, “So good-” Tears freely flowing down your cheek with just how many times he was mercilessly forcing his way against your sweetest spots. Your most favorite. “So good- so good- sooo good—”

You smack your hips up in a sloppy drag down Choso’s face and he moans. 

“Choso, you’re just the best—”

And that? Those particular words are just about enough to make his red-hot, achingly hard erection pulse once. Twice.

Beading out a silky trickle of cum that darkens his thick pants.

Before he’s frankly quite sure that he might be on the verge of cumming- and such a valiant knight could never cum before his lovely princess, now, could he? Not daring to be so selfish, Choso heightens the pleasure and pressure until his tongue looked like nothing but a strawberry-pink blur lickin’ into every nook and cranny of yours. Slap-slap-slapping down on your clit.

And his fingers were fucking into you so hard- so ruthlessly. Viciously banging your g-spot like a constant bullseye and Choso was an expert at archery. Didn’t you know?

He doesn’t slow down - doesn’t dare to - even once your drenched walls start convulsing around him in a staccato. Even once you open your mouth in a soundless scream.

Even once you start to cum—

And Choso had never smiled wider in his entire life than he does right now with his lips glued to your pussy. Salivating. Tongue strokin’ your clit through every peak of your high- “C-cumming, Choso.” You pant out tearily. “And I can’t seem to stop…”

“You don’t have to.” Right on cue he bangs a roughened thrust just against your g-spot. Leaving you throbbing and aching for more.

And everything ‘more’ that you want - Choso’s more than happy to give.

Your loyal knight elongating your wave of bliss with his slick fingers. The perfect amount of thickness to stretch your walls but also leave you keening at his rapid pace- he pinpoints each tender point of your orgasm and thrashes against your nerves right at that exact moment.

Again.

And again and again.

And again—until your high makes you see white-hot stars behind your closed eyelids. Planting sloppy drags down his face right in synchronization, “Any longer and I don’t believe I shall cum any more, Choso.”

“As long as it feels goooood, princess.” He gurgles out, “Heh, so good that your body can’t cum anymore.”

“I-I don’t believe it works like- fuck.” Lips soiled with tears and saliva. Glazed. Doesn’t matter how much you’re running your voicebox ragged, because Choso doesn’t even slow down- not even when he’s fucked you through your orgasm and letting it taper out into mere tingles.

Shots of power. Vulgar strokes barely even starting to falter as you begin to feel so utterly raw n’ overstimulated. “But Choso, I want…”

“Hmmmm?”

He sounds so gone on your pussy that you know merely asking nicely won’t make Choso latch off. Experimentally, you’re tugging on his sweat-drenched bangs and he doesn’t even budge-

“Choso Kamo.” You’re starting out, struggling to keep your voice steady. And yet at the tone of your voice, Choso flinches as though he already knows- “As your princess, I order you to just fuck me already.”

He takes a few seconds to detach from your pussy.

Pulling away his sticky slick-glazed lips with a superior squeeelch! And Choso stares up at you with dark, half-lidded eyes. “As you wish, Your Highness.” 

His ruined voice sends shivers across every inch of your body.

A body that he’s now plastering his hands onto and all but tearing through your soft layers- like butter underneath his strong hands. He’s ripping your silken gown straight through the middle, “I shall summon the tailor first thing tomorrow morning.” Choso grunts, already reading that expression on your face. “Worry not- your next dress shall be white, my princess.”

“Wh-white…” You breathe out, feeling light-headed at the implication.

Before you know it, all Choso has unhooked your half-corset and left you all exposed for him. For him to ravenously sweep his eyes down. For him to gaze upon every inch of you and gulp- was his mouth watering just at the sight of you naked?

But you’re not left too long to ponder upon the thought before Choso starts shrugging off his gauzy shirt and trousers. He’s letting the buttons pop open—pop! pop! pop! And displaying such a firm chest chiselled with prominent pecs, further down along were naturally ripped abs and the most sensual happy trail.

All dark and slightly unruly where it dips juuuust below his pants hemline.

Choso flattens his thumb against those golden buttons and lets himself spring free- and oh. 

Oh.

You have to bite back a gasp out of sheer manners, though it should be rather obvious that you were ogling him. All about seven or eight inches of him- maybe more. Definitely more.

The cutest blushin’ pink at his tip, growing slightly more pale towards the base.

Glistening shaft. Heavy balls. He’s decorated with more veins than you might’ve imagined from him, and he’s so hard that each time they twitch his erection flinches in mid air. Fuck…Choso’s just so long and rock-hard that his puckered pink tip jumps upwards and smears a swipe of glistening sap across his abs. It glares at you like a smirk, and Choso sleazes out a smile right back. 

Letting his head fall backwards once he gives his long cock a good pump.

“Oh…” He’s swearing underneath his breath, edging in closer on two capped knees. Those meaty thighs of his were just irresistible - all meaty and milky and flexing.

The slight muscles in his legs twitch as he inches closer to you on the bed. Cornering you against the headboard, Chose wields his swollen tip cloooose between your legs- kissin’ your puffy pussylips. Just a single swipe. “Fuck.”

And that’s all it takes for Choso Kamo to break on your pussy.

Head hanging downwards. Long locks covering his face. The entirety of his body fucking lurching- he’s messily creaming down your slit with copious amounts of cum.

Scorchin’ hot and sticking to you like adhesive.

It dribbless between your folds and enters your hole just the sliiiightest bit - already enough to start sploshin’ inside you and make you feel stuffed to the brim. You’re squirming at the unfamiliar sensation—and what does Choso do?

He’s reeling his hips back and rutting against you like a damn animal.

Unable to control himself. Merely pushing his fat cockhead between your pussylips and shoving- he groans at the way he couldn’t even fit the honed point of his very honed tip inside. 

Just sliding lecherously past your pussylips and rubbin’ his veiny shaft down your front. 

The only thing that that’s doing is grazing your clit and driving the man on top of you absolutely wild. He’s huffing through a pout as he looks down, “I want- ngh, I want to make it feel good for you, my princess. But it just won’t seem to fit.” Without much warning, he’s slithering his right hand down and scissoring open your snug hole. “Does this pretty pussy need me to s-stretch her out even more?”

“Oh—maybe.” You blubber out, looking at him through a heady gaze. “Choso…it’s my first time.”

And he knows he should expect it- fuck, he’s been at your side through every second of every day after you’ve come of age. He should already know by now. 

His lips part, “Oh.”

“And I suspect it’s your first time, too?”

“It is…” Choso looks away bashfully, “My apologies, Your Highness, that I’m not experienced enough to perhaps give you the pleasure that you deserve-”

“Cho?”

He immediately shuts himself up, “Mhm?”

But instead of answering- you’re grabbing ahold of one of Choso’s muscular deltoids. It was just so plush and flexed as you moved him beneath you - flipping your positions over until his back hit the decadent mattress. And you’re clamoring on top of his slender hips, only slightly wobbly with the aftermath of your previous high.

All of Choso’s ivory sap dripped down your inner thighs and tried to glue them together. It was a treacly sheen that slid down his rock-hard abs.

And you’re gliding on top of him- draaaagging your swollen pussylips down his veiny shaft. A whimper lets out of your lips as his flared silt catches on your folds, “F-fuck—Cho, the court ladies told me about this particular position called, ahem- riding.”

He’s looking up at you with wide, heart-shaped eyes. 

And your veins bubbled with molten embarrassment and need, “I’m going to ride you now, alright?”

“Yes-”

“Yes…what?”

Choso breaks out into the most sinful grin you think you’ve ever seen on him- “Yes, my liege.”

And that’s all it takes for you to perk your hips up just a lil’ bit and let Choso’s round orifice trace the outer rim of your hole. Just getting your body trained to the size - and even that is enough to make the man beneath you squirm.

To make him blush. To make him gasp.

To make him reach both quivering hands up and dig them into the globes of your ass- he’s jolting as though fighting with himself over letting you take your agonizing pace or humpin’ up into you like an animal.

Crying out—“Please. I need you so f-fucking bad.” 

And you can pinpoint the exact moment that Choso’s husky voice breaks - all because you’re swerving your hips down and taking a gooood three or so inches of his fattened cock. Red-hot. Throbbing all the way deep inside of you.

The stretch was just so incredible that you’re seeing pure white- a primal moan ripping from your throat at the way he molded to your walls. Almost as if he was made for you.

He’s giving his first spurt of milky precum against your velvety channel, it drips down to your entrance and makes you twitch at the sensation.

Choso Kamo was ruining you from the inside and he wasn’t even trying yet.

Yet you’re still gasping- clawing onto his shoulders and then eventually down to his cushion-like pecs. Providing a firm hold for you as you’re trying to keep yourself balanced. Your mind muddled-

“Does- does it feel good yet, my princess?” Almost in the distance, you can hear Choso’s words echoing. They seem to rattle inside your emptied brain right now. “Does- does it- fuuuck—because it feels like heaven to me.”

“Shit, it feels so…” Your jaw drops agape, running out of words. Having him intruding at your innards like this wasn’t necessarily unpleasant- in fact, when he slightly rutted and rubbed against a few particular spots it almost felt unreal…

You’re keeping a firm grip on him and lightly bouncing your hips down - short, sloppy thrusts that give off a slurp! every time.

And Choso was giving off the prettiest little whimper every time you swallowed his solid tip. Just about two or three inches. “F-feels good?” He’s begging. Tears crinkle on the edges of his eyelids, and his lips wobble ever-so-slightly. “Feels good, right? Am I making my princess feel good?”

“So good.” You manage to gasp out. “Shit, I have yet to feel such pleasure with my fingers…”

“Being held at a degree higher than the fingers of my princess—?” He couldn’t believe it himself. And almost as though to confirm, Choso’s reaching over and lifting your dominant hand off of his pectoral. He brings it up to his mouth and gives it a long kiss, “Y-you cannot be serious.” Breathing in, as if to breathe in your essence. “The hands of my princess…”

Your jaw drops as his own does - opening wide enough to slip as few of your fingers inside and suck. “You’re more of a lecher than your innocent demeanour- ngh, lets on.”

“Only for you, Your Highness.”

And with your never-ending vulgar strokes, you’d managed to bully about half of Choso’s erection inside of you. It was a girth thick enough to stretch out hidden nooks n’ crannies inside you that you didn’t even know you had, and the perfect length to already be throbbin’ away by your g-spot…

You swivel your hips lightly enough to let his tip graze your most favorite spot- and you can’t help but fucking shake at the burst of sensations.

He’s hissing at the way you clench, “Oh, please-” Head falling backwards into the pillow in a dizzy haze. “D-does that little…squeeze mean it feels good?”

“Yes-” You gasp, “And it also means I ache for you more.”

Your best friend gulps, “Where?”

And it doesn’t take long for you to maneuver one of his calloused palms off of your hips and down to your stomach. Where it felt like he was so big that you could feel him from the outside—Choso presses down as he sinks in. “Here.” 

That was almost enough to make him cum.

But Choso had already cum earlier - and it wasn’t a matter of not being able to stuff your pussy full all over again. He’s sure he could cream himself dry on your pussy. It was more so the fact that, in order to make up for it, he needed to make you cum at least twice more before finally finishing off himself.

One taste of your cunt clenchin’ around him and he’s feeling a tear slip down his cheek.

Almost subconsciously - body moving before mind - Choso arches off the comforter to probe his blushin’ tip deep inside you. “Shit- you just reached so deep, Cho.”

“Would you like me to take over, Your Highness?” Oh—how he loved the way that title rolled off of his tongue when he fucked you. His lowly body marking out your insides-

And he’d known you for so long by now.

He knew everything about you: every like, every dislike, every tell about your body. And he already knows from the hazy look in your peripherals that you’d been growing tired, thighs twitching any time you tried to messily bounce down on his cock.

Which is why one of Choso’s large hands cup your ass and start to help you fuck back into him- his muscules flexing mouth-wateringly every time he did so. Deeper and deeper. “Come on, my princess.” The hand on your stomach lifts off and glides down your pussy’s slit. Perfectly finding and pressing down on your knobbly clit - so sensitive. “Come on- fuck, let this loyal knight of yours make you feel good.”

“But the thing is…” You whimper out, head dropping down to look at the space between your legs. Like this, the size difference between your puckered hole and Choso’s thick cock. Growing even thicker before your very eyes. “-you’re just so damn big, Choso. Will it even fit?”

“I can make it fit.” He answers readily, as though the answer had already been on the tip of his tongue. For years, actually - all those long nights since becoming your personal knight. With only his hand and the image of you. He knows he’s fucking pathetic. 

But he can’t bring himself to regret a single moment anyway. Because it’s only with that imaginary practice that he’s swervin’ his hips up to yours in slightly circular motions. “I can do anything for you.” 

“Anything?”

He gasps out, “Anything for you, Your Highness.”

With his tongue stuck between his teeth, he’s crossing his brows and focusing on simply sensually fitting his cock inside. Uuuup with that big stretch.

Your head knocks backwards, “Ch-Choso—” Never been stretched like this before. 

And then again with those rovering pushes.

“Choso.”

And again.

“Fuck-”

Choso wasn’t even answering any more - just couldn’t. He had his mind focused solely on one thing, and that was to pump all his generous inches inside you, which might be easier said than done considering how the longer he spent in contact with your pussy…the more pussydrunk he seemed to be becoming.

Until he was all but babbling—gasping, tearing up, fighting against the carnal resistance, holding onto you hard enough to leave nail marks all down your body. He was shovelling his ruddied cockhead with a thwack! against the very bottom of your pussy. 

Bottomed-out. 

You collapse down onto his chiselled chest with a strangled scream, feeling the metaphorical pop! of both your cherries. As well as the squirt of precum emptied out against your cervix-

The last thing you’re feeling before Choso’s leaving your entrance all sore.

Before he’s drilling up into you like a crazed man.

Fucking up into you with honed, deep thrusts - all the way from the globular edge of his shaft and then doooown until your clit scratches on the tufts of black hair at his base. He’s whacking your g-spot and then skidding right down until his puckered tip meets your womb. Rapid. Ravenous.

The bed creaks from the sheer pace of his movements, mingling with the shrill noises that you were letting out yourself. “So this is what it feels like- oh.”

Choso drags his right thumb down your pussy’s slit- that dewy spot of your clit being the perfect target for him to press down on. “This is what it feels like—” There’s such a dreamy quality to his words, languid and slightly slurred. “It feels like absolute heaven j-just-”

“Just?” You look up at your knight when he trails off.

Not expecting him to break out into the most sleazy smile. “Just having my innocence taken by the princess.” He says it in a way that sends shives down your spine - firm and possessive.

And even more possessive was the way that Choso thereafter clings a hold onto your waist and pulls you down to him. His abs shifting underneath you as he presses a kiss to your bitten lips—as he spits a wad of his saliva between them. “Taking the princess’s innocence- the whole kingdom should know that I r-ruined their perfectly innocent princess.” He’s gasping out, lost in the feeling of his entire engorged inches being suctioned by your walls. “That I made her- hah, pussy mine.”

“Choso—” Your eyes blow wide in shock and pleasure.

Because just then the hand teasin’ at your clit decides to jump straight to pinching right there. 

It makes you twitch on top of him.

The pit of your stomach fizzling with something that feels good-

“Oh, but fear not, Your Highness.” He continues as if he isn’t just driving you wild. Ruining your insides with the constant, rhythmic squelching of his large cockhed—pushing and pushing. And pushing. 

Choso stares up at you with a half-lidded gaze - direct eye contact even when he’s craning upwards to bite down on your left nipple. Dark lashes fluttering, “For every part of me is likewise yours.”

“Every part?” You shudder.

“Every part.” In emphasis, his cock throbs furiously inside you. 

Succeeding in swervin’ in each glittering droplet of precum and slick and seed back in. He groans, “And you know you can ride this lowly knight as much as you want- as hard as you want.”

“I…” Your mouth feels as parched as a desert, “I would like that, my knight.”

Leaning slightly back on the bed, he’s letting you take more control. “Ride me- ride me dry, princess.” Just so achingly needy for you that you could almost taste it.

His salted-caramel taste sizzling at the back of your throat- his vanilla scent filling up your every other sense. You could now fit the pace to whatever you liked, “Sh-shit-” To whatever massaging rubs against your bundled nerves. “Shit—it’s almost t-too much. Impossible to believe.”

“Yeah? Feels good, doesn’t it?” Choso’s on board with his hand planted underneath your ass. Using a singular hand, he’s manhandling your hips up and down—up and down. Jerking you almost like a ragdoll down his incredible size, he lets every drop of his drivelling precum get sucked dry by your cute cunt. “Feels good riding your m-most loyal knight? Feels good making such a mess of me—oh?”

“It does.” You’re so stupid on his cock by now that you simply have to confess. “I—fuck, I must be true- it does.”

“Good.” Spittle drools down one edge of his lips. Choso Kamo wanted to be used. 

He wasn’t letting you even bounce your hips away for a mere millisecond- always chasing the back of your pussy with his cockhead. He hisses, “Feels good just- fuck, being fucked by the very man sworn to protect you, hm? Feels good knowing that all those years I’ve wanted this- all this time, I’ve imagined it like some pervert—” Choso casts a glance around the grand room, “All the nights I was here. All the days I spent watching you. Feels good knowing that I would’ve died just for a taste of your sweet cunt, huh?”

Thumb faster n’ faster on your clit.

“Feels good knowing that I shan’t ever in this life, nor any others, even so much as look at another?”

And another one of his rugged hands lifts up from your thighs to cup your cheek - he lets you hold your own chasing your high. Slurping and swallowing his fat cock between your legs intensely, as Choso wipes away a stray tear cascading down your cheek.

“Feels good knowing that you have bewitched me—you and this damn- pretty pussy.”

“Yes-” You’re whimpering out loud enough for it to echo across these four gilded walls. Your mind being a complete mess. “Yes, yes, yes—and I’m gonna…”

“Fuck.”

He’s feeling it before you do once you finally crash into your high.

It’s your second of the night, and just because you’re slightly overstimulated from it doesn’t mean that Choso’s about to slow down. Instead, he’s drilling into you with achingly needy strikes - all vicious pumps against the spot of your nerves, and then nicely sliding down the back of your cervix. Over and over.

A long overarching wave of your orgasm- “Ch-Choso.” One that leaves your body limp and helpless to the way he crushes you against his beating chest. “Need you to cum inside, Choso.”

You’re pleasing up at him in a way that’s irresistible.

“Let your climax at least settle, impatient princess.” He’s lightly chuckling. Increasing his ministrations on your poor clit - only elongating your zaps of pleasure.

Until he seemed to be numbing your body completely with so many sensations, all bubbling through your veins and pouring out in the form of your sweetened slick. “But I want it.” You huff. “What if that was an order?”

“Oh, you really are my spoiled princess. Even after I’ve already given you m-my cock and two orgasms…and my heart.” He’s echoing out in a parched tone. Increasing and increasing the sheer amount of pleasure he was giving you - until it you’re been fucked considerably past the twinges of your high.

Straight into another.

And it seemed to be exactly what Choso was waiting for- before he’s throwing his head back and cumming right in unison with you. “Fuuuuck- take it all.” Words trembling. “Take it all, my dearest princess, take it all from your knight.”

And you can feel him empty it out inside you.

His heavy balls twitching with the looong stripes of sap he was flooding out, they splosh against each of your crevices. Pumped deeper inside with every thrust. The smell of his arousal just twitches something dark and carnal within you- and you’re pushing your face into the crook of his neck. Inhaling that soft vanilla accent.

So in contrast with the pelvis slamming against yours, hard enough that his skin starts to redden. The sheer force of it is enough to make you flinch back - and enough for him to hold onto your body in any way he can and pin you down to his front.

Unable to escape, you can only whine at the way he fucks you through his high. “Oh my…” Your mouth starts to water. No novel or scandal sheet had ever described this before. “Ch-Choso you’re the best.”

And you swear that only makes him cum harder.

So much of it that it begins to trickle out of your hole almost immediately- something that Choso certainly couldn’t have. 

So he swipes his thumb down from your clit and starts swabbin’ those wads back inside.

“I ache for you.” He’s whimpering out, big bulbous tears glimmering on the edges of his lashes. His pink lips jut out into what almost looks like a pout, “My dearest princess, I ache for you-” Followed by the sharp inhale of breath once he grazes over your clit once more. “-so much so that it’s leaking out.”

“I ache for you, too, Choso. So much.” 

“Hah…not as much as I do for you.” As if the petering out of his ribbony white cum had ultimately brought back an inkling of his rationality again. “Though for a lowly knight to be so forward-”

You’re leaning down and wiping away the tears from his handsome cheeks. “Choso…you would never be undeserving of me.” It’s the firm tone that makes him freeze, snapping his head to you with sheeny eyes. “In fact, I could argue that it is I who does not deserve y-”

Choso doesn’t let you finish that sentence.

He’s kissing you long and sound.

And as he smiles against your lips, you decide that you have a long conversation to be had with your father at daybreak.

As heir to the throne.

.

.

.

There is a celebration in the bejeweled chapel that morning.

Though not of a wedding, rather…a coronation.

With the promise of a wedding.

And as you sit upon your velvet throne, the crown jewels balanced heavily on your head and your hands, you feel the folded-up piece of paper tucked away in your locket. Humming.

You catch Choso’s eye, closest amongst the row of knights at attention.

You wink.

He smiles.

Yuji shoots you a thumbs up.

Yaga watches the scene and smiles a slight smile.

Shoko could not have looked more smug.

And Naoya? Though the Zenin family was happy to attend, one such prince was pointedly not invited. Nor would he be claiming any thrones any time soon.

As the ceremony continues, the letter pulses with delight-

“My dearest princess,

I love you. I love you. I love you.

Your dearest knight.”

.

.

.

Dearest gentle reader,

Church bells are a-toll—though not for a royal wedding (though be patient, and we shall see the very same soon)—for it’s a royal coronation!

Her Highness, the princess, both shocked and scandalized the Ton at the Royal Diamond Ball last night by attending to her first dance with none other than…her personal knight. Yes, Sir Choso Kamo was chosen personally by the daring royal to be the gentleman that sweeps her off of her feet (on the dance floor). 

And query any ogling noble at the ball that night, and should they find the time between plucking the flies out of their mouth, then all shall confirm that the young couple was rather…scandalously close. Though keeping to his hands confined to places the Ton would approve of, it was rather evident that the way the princess and her knight looked at each other was ripped straight from a fairy tale. The romance!

And just as any good fairy tale should have an obvious villain, this writer’s insiders claim that Prince Naoya Zenin was certainly not happy with the incident. 

Though you must forgive this dear writer if my memory of such dudgeon royal guests is far from perfect. For I was far too occupied with the later…disappearance of Her Highness.

And most conveniently, her knight, as well.

The princess was most certainly not present as she was dubbed the Diamond of the season, nor would she have been able to keep her eyes (or hand) away from Sir Choso long enough to notice. You read that right, dear reader, the Ton has positively been fanning themselves all morning at the juicy details being whispered down palace halls.

My trusted sources claim that the princess and her knight had been locked up in her royal bed chambers…all night. And though the contents of what they may have gotten up to inside this chamber is all speculation, late-night patrol down the palace halls claim they heard the most…peculiar noises emanating from the princess’s bedroom.

All. Night. Long.

Though, of course, Her Highness’s ultimate return to the ball long past the Diamond announcement is a source of many rumors—this eagle-eyed writer would like to point out something else entirely.

Bite marks. Unsteady gait.

Glowing.

Perhaps all coincidence, of course, that Sir Choso Kamo had donned his knight’s armor and hidden any of his own marks from view. It is undeniable that the princess had been carrying evidence of a knight—my apologies, I meant night well-spent!

And perhaps most damning of all might be the fact that - after a terse discussion with His Majesty, the King, as my sources say - an announcement was made at the very cusp end of the ball.

Of the princess’s coronation as Queen tomorrow, and of Sir Choso Kamo’s induction as King Consort. He shall henceforth and forevermore be known as King Consort Choso Kamo, Duke of Kamo Estate. 

And lastly, of a summer wedding, due on the horizon. (Sources also claim something else due…a bundle of joy perhaps between the young couple.)

But that is enough of speculation—oh, what was that? 

I can hear your cries, gentle reader, I can hear them! Worry not, this writer is yet to forget a single detail of the most succulent gossip from the Ton - I already foresee your queries about what happened to Her Majesty’s secret admirer then.

I believe you shall be delighted to know that my insider tells me that…the very secret admirer you speak of is now King Consort. What a romantic twist to the tale!

Now as Prince Naoya fumes and my readers rejoice, excuse me while I dry my tears and pick out my best summer arrangements for this royal wedding—for you know that this writer must always be on the scene!

We wish the happy royal couple all the best with their preparations!

Yours Truly,

Lady Whistledown.

A/N. Any guesses on who Lady Whistledown might just be??

Oh.

You’re jerking your head up to meet his eyes, clearing not expecting of the man you knew not to be a social butterfly. And he’s looking away from you just as quickly—“I-I mean-” There was the socially awkward mess you’d forcefully introduced yourself to tonight. “Forget I said anything- there must have been a miscalculation on my part, I didn’t…”

Though you can’t help but notice that Toji’s ears were…bright red. Redder than even his flannel jacket. 

Oh. 

You knew he wasn’t the type to flirt around.

You knew he wasn’t the type to even get approached- though not for a lack of anything, Toji Fushiguro was hot. To say the least.

Shaggy black bangs that covered part of his glasses. Large hands made to carry numerous books (and perhaps something else…should you let your mind wander).

He towered above most of the campus, with shoulders for daaaaays—no matter how much he hunched them, Toji couldn’t hide just how sculpted they were. And not to mention, the way his biceps would flex any time he raised his hand to answer a question (which was…for every question) made it such a treat to sit behind him during Professor Yaga’s lectures. Beauty and brains?

Somehow, it seems that half the campus had decided that that was a deadly combination, and they could only admire from so close before they suffered from heart palpitations. And the other half had decided that perhaps such a combination really was fatal- and were much too intimidated to try and talk to the man.

And so he waded through the throngs of people, unknowing or perhaps uncaring of their silent admiration. 

Not that his quietly intense demeanor gave off many welcoming vibes, either way.

Toji Fushiguro had one love, and one love only: his books.

Ultimately, it meant that the three seats upon the left and right of Toji were consistently empty for whichever class he sat in.

And you felt for him - you really did. So you tried to sit next to him in whichever classes you shared, though you were yet to have the man make any attempts at friendship. 

And neither had you.

So you’d been content.

Until tonight, that is.

When you’re finding yourself dragging this tall, buff nerd into the frathouse bathroom - it was your luck that there wasn’t a line. Because you don’t think either one of you could wait. Pushing him inside-

Right before the door slams shut and you’re finding the roles fucking reversed.

And you’re finding yourself manhandled in the direction of the sink - front shoved against the porcelain surface, Toji’s weight pinning you down from behind. Panting. Ravenous. He steadies himself with a hand on your hips. 

His other hand reaching in front of you and stuffin’ into your panties. His raging erection pressing against your ass cheeks.

Toji’s calloused finger swipe up your glossy slit and he moans- “A-are you this fuckin’ wet for me—?” Voice breathy as though he couldn’t believe it himself.

And you can only nod. “Who else would it be for, Toji?”

“Well…” He doesn’t answer - he can’t. Because at that very moment, Toji Fushiguro is given the privilege to feel just how sinfully your cunt can clench ‘round his thick fingertips—and his brain goes into overdrive wondering just how cutely you’d squeeze his aching cock.

Before long, he’s hooking a hand underneath your left knee and guiding it up onto the sink. Letting you perch there- “Now—easy f’me, girl.” Toji’s rasps ruffle the sequins on your dress- one that you’re finding hitched up from your lower half. In fact—he’s baring you all the way until your panties. Moving them aside with a finger just the barest inch-

Enough for the bespectacled man to catch side of your glistening wet pussy and groan-

“Neither of us are making it out of this alive.”

And it doesn’t take long before you’re feeling Toji’s long, luuuscious shaft start to sandwich between your pussylips. Honed tip. Bawling divot. They were just so puckered and sensitive- even the barest lines of his veins leaving you gasping. “Fuck-”

“Easy there-” That familiar tone of his echoes, sounding even more out-of-breath inside this bathroom. Toji hooks his chin into the crook of your neck, “Easy—” His swollen, reddened tip starts circling your entrance- and your head spins at how he probes into you. “Easy there- now- breathe-”

“What do you…oh, fuck.” Mewls shattering in your throat- you feel the sheer streeeeetch of Toji’s incredible length.

Just so thick. Just so heated.

You knew that it was always the quiet ones…but fuck.

It felt as though he was melting your walls around him - feeling every throb he was letting out at the top of your head. Your teeth were on edge, and your body was torn between wanting to take him even deeper and bouncing away into safety. For your mere sanity—could he even fit?

“O-of course, I can.” Toji’s guttural answer comes - and it’s only then that you’re truly realizing that you’d said that out loud. Fuck- had you been so dumbified by his mere size? That you were now babbling away as Toji sunk inside—

And he’s ruthless in his swipes- hard, technical. “It’s gonna fit.” It felt as though Toji Fushiguro had already studied every single inch of you, and he was now hurtlin’ away his rock-hard tip straight into where you needed him the most. “It will fit.”

He sounded so sure of himself - as easy as passing every finals exam with flying colors.

Toji pushes his glasses up his nosebridge and angles his cock even more viciously. He rubs that bawling divot of his against the roof of your cunt- messing around some of those tender sweet spots that you’d always kept hidden. And then glide-glide-gliiiiding down to purposefully massaging every nook n’ cranny of your walls against those prominent veins of his-

“Fuck—” In absolutely no time- he’s managed to locate your pulsing g-spot. As though drawn in by a magnet, Toji’s then following the shivers of your body to target that exact spot. Ramming and ramming his heavy cockhead between your pussylips. “H-how are you even-”

“Hmmm?” Nearly purring, Toji grazes his cheek down the column of your throat. “Speak up, doll.”

“How-”

“Actually…” You could hear the smile in his tone. “-raise your hand to speak.”

You gape. And that rebellious streak within you makes you open your mouth with a protest- but soon enough Toji’s darting his tip away from your g-spot to start thumpin’ at your cervix.

Lengthy glides that end up swabbing your sweetest spots, before thrashing straight to your womb.

It was as if he was teaching you exactly what you’d be missing if it weren’t for him and fuck- if that wasn’t a compelling argument…

Belatedly, you raise your hand. “How are you even this good, Toji?”

And that makes him raise a dark brow- “This good?” He asks - mostly to himself - and the utter botched breath in his tone makes shivers sprint down your spine. Toji watches his plump tip disappear in and out of your cunt a few times- before suddenly he’s letting out a startled laugh. “This good?”

Before you can do anything about it, Toji lifts his hand off of your waist and ends up smushing your cheeks together. There was nothing gentle about it - Toji was mean. Toji was trying to leave marks.

So that everyone who sees the two of you walk out of the bathroom together can look at your pretty face and know that that was him. That pretty set of lips- both ones.

He’s holding your face up to the sink mirror, his eyes meeting yours through the reflective surface. You’re realizing with a jolt that Toji’s eyes were the most intense shade of emerald green - and they were currently narrowing down at you—“Who’s fucking you right now, girl?”

“Wh-what?” You’re managing to sputter out.

His grip slightly tightens- and his cock starts hitting you twofold. “See it?” Those handsome features of his are just irresistible, making it so difficult for you to tear your eyes away from him. “Feel it?” And his other hand loosens from your clit to glide down your tummy - where you felt utterly bloated with all his bulging, massive inches. Throbbing. “Feel it?”

And you can only nod and nod-

“Who’s fucking you right now, girl?”

“Y-you—”

And in that very moment, his fat cock bottoms out with a lecherous slurp!

“That’s what I thought.” Toji sounds so content with himself- slightly slurring at the ends of his sentence. “And what’s my name?”

“Toji-” You’re gasping out. Your cries were echoing so loud inside the bathroom that you’re sure some of the bystanders outside were hearing - but you didn’t care. Not when Toji was reeling his sloppy hips back and stutterin’ a few direct hits to your bruised g-spot—“Toji Fushiguro—!”

“And who said a nerd can’t fuck?”

He snickers to himself.

Right before he’s starting to fuck into you like a damn animal- spotting every ounce of space inside you with his dribbling pre. The length of his cock was nearly a blur between your legs, and Toji was just drunk on the thought of having you. 

On the thought of wanting to have you for so long now-

“I studied, y’know?” Toji whispers against the shell of your ear, words clammy. “I studied every inch of the human anatomy-” He presses a kiss—then a bite. “I studied eeeeevery nook and cranny-” Swirlin’ his rude cockhead around just in time, “Every nerve in the clitorourethrovaginal complex and every crevice-”

“F-fuuuuck-”

“Every statistic for the Gräfenberg spot, and every spot where it couldn’t be-” He pinches your clit. He’s thrashin’ his hips against yours so hard that it sends your heels flying off of the cool tile. “Every stretch of your rugae and every little clench-”

As if on cue, you’re clenching around him. Embracing him with your puckered pussylips until Toji himself sees white- “Toji, it feels so-”

“Good.” He’s furiously pushing his glasses up, not daring to miss a single second or squeeze of your cunt. “Because I know this pussy in and out—” The nerdy man lands a few more sloppy strokes, and he has to bite down on his lower lip to hold back a whimper. Locking eyes with you through the mirror- “And who’s fucking you?”

“You, Toji—” Your eyes scrunch shut as you’re crashing into a sudden high- taking your entire body by surprise. Those white-hot bolts of pleasure start up where he was plunging into you, before building up through the rest of your body.

Your toes curl. You’re seeing white.

So strong that it leaves you nearly numb.

Nearly stupid- unable to do anything but grip onto the sink and bounce your hips back down. Right as Toji was fucking you through peak after peak- “Toji—fuck, Toji-”

And your ears are still ringing by the time the bathroom door clicks open.

Too late, you’re sloppily swivelling around to face the faux-blond man standing at the doorway. Not that you had anything against people that dyed their hair - but you did have something against Naoya Zenin.

Your jaw drops, “You-”

His furious eyes dart between you and Toji. “You two-”

“Take a hike, fucker.” Toji’s gruff tone echoes from behind, and you’re noticing that he doesn’t slow down for a single second as he talks to Naoya. In fact, the bespectacled man plants a sudden spank on the side of your ass and speeds up—“You’ll see enough of her soon at family functions- as my girlfriend, of course.”

Fuming, Naoya doesn’t speak a word before the door slams shut.

And it takes the tremble inside the bathroom for you to speak- “Wait…family functions? Do you know him or something?”

And Toji looks at you squarely. “We’re related.”

Oh.

“And don’t think that I was b-bluffing about the girlfriend part.”

Oh.

He stutters at that?

.

.

.

After a considerable few years of teaching, Masamichi Yaga has learned not to be surprised. 

It was inevitable, of course—the same old campus, the same old syllables, the same old faces that inevitably get replaced by those rather similar. All bored and slightly hungover.

Though that’s not to say that Yaga doesn’t love teaching or his students - in fact, he can empathize with those that aren’t exactly the keenest on learning Veterinary Science at 8AM. He empathizes - really - and he does his best to keep the process as pain-free as possible until they’ve earned their credits for the semester. 

And then again, that’s also not to say that there aren’t a few students who always…stand out. Not in terms of looks or aesthetic, but rather in the work they do.

In the questions they answer- and the questions they ask.

In the hours they put in.

In the textbooks they keep as close as their hearts.

And who better to illustrate this point than Toji Fushiguro? Though it was such a shame that he wasn’t the social types - these stand-out students often didn’t tend to be - in fact, there was only ever one student that dared sit next to him—ah! There you were.

Yaga admits he takes no small pleasure in watching this small interaction everyday.

Namely how Toji would duck his head and pretend he didn’t see you- except…except today, Toji wasn’t ducking his head at all. Not at all.

Instead, the black-haired man looks straight at you and whispers something in your ear.

Something that…that - judging by the gaping expression on your face, and the smug one on his - was a sentence not meant for Yaga’s ears. Something dirty.

And oh goodness…

He doesn’t know what happened since last class, but if he has to watch the two of you flirt everyday from hereon after then…

He might just have to request a course change.

♡ NANAMI KENTO - Lesson #1

“So like—” It doesn’t surprise Nanami Kento - TA to Professor Yaga’s History class, the star student in the entire department, the man infamous for having even his dorm walls covered in academic accolades and awards - when you lean over his desk.

Palms planted almost on his side. The neckline of your loose satin blouse dipping.

Dipping.

Enough to give him a gooood look at what was underneath- he catches just the slightest glimpse of baby pink before he has enough sense to look away. Lingerie? You’d worn fucking lingerie to come get tutored by him?

But alright—say that was understandable. Say that Nanami has enough experience as a TA by now to know that certain students might attempt to gain favors through…non-academic means. 

Perhaps one could chalk that up to human sensibilities (or lack thereof) - Nanami Kento was never that type of man. In fact, most of the department would harp on ballads about what a romantic the blond-haired TA is- much to his obliviousness.

However, what actually stuns him is the way you’re tucking a finger into your blouse’s neckline- and how you have the audacity to actually tug down on it.

You’re humming, “What do I have to do to get an A in this class?”

Nanami balks. Mouth opening and closing soundlessly.

He knows your type- more accurately, he knows you. He knows you’re the type of student surrounded by others, always invited to the most exclusive parties, always with a phone blowing up, always at the center of attention—always in his line of sight. Though that’s because he knows you’re not above cheating to pass this class…of course. That’s the only reason.

Short skirt. Seemingly getting shorter everyday- sat front and center whenever he assisted with class.

Legs slightly ajar.

It made him lose track of his thoughts whenever he happened to glance your way. Happened to. 

To Nanami Kento, history is what he lives and breathes- but to you, he knows it’s nothing but a credit you need to get your degree. And though he wouldn’t necessarily fault anyone for that, he can’t deny that it’d sent a thrill up his spine once you’d cornered him yesterday asking for tutoring.

He’d said yes faster than he would’ve liked.

And thus, here he was.

Nanami Kento tries to keep his composure by reminding himself of your absolutely abysmal naming of Japanese shoguns from the 14th century, but just when he thinks he’s getting a grip on himself—

He darts a look down your blouse and his voice cracks.

You smile as though you’ve got him already - you’ve seen the way he looks at you during lectures.

“I-I think that would be highly inappropriate-” Pushing his gold-rimmed glasses up frantically.

To which you’re only leaning closer- “Oh? What would be inappropriate? I was asking about what extra assignments I could take to make up for my last test score…” 

You cock your head in the picture of perfect innocence.

But he knows your games- he fucking knows it. And almost as much as his ears were burning, his cock does the same between his legs, too. “Perhaps re-taking that test- and the last five.” Nanami grits out. “And perhaps a long reading list—”

“You say that as if you’re disappointed.” Smiling - a snare.

“You say that as if you didn’t plan to re-take any tests at all.” Nanami counters. Somehow, his perfectly slicked-back hair was mussed up - he doesn’t know how, but he always did seem to lose his cool when it came to you. Every part of him.

“What can I say?” You’re shrugging, “I love a hot fuckin’ nerd.”

Nanami gulps. Tightening his tie- before he thinks better of it and all but rips it off of his neck.

Perfectly pressed pants. Perfectly buttoned-up shirt. Sleeves sometimes pushed up to his elbows. Golden cufflinks. Tie. 

Everyone who has seen Nanami Kento striding about campus, has commented on his formal clothes in one way or the other - but mostly about how there was not a single crease in them, not even at the end of the day. And it really was true. You’re feeling them pressed up against your front right now—

With Nanami taking only a few split-seconds to tug you from the other side of the table - easily, as you were all but on top of it by now. He’s grabbing ahold of your wrist and easily manhandling you to his side.

Splaying you back out on the table. Back against the cool surface.

His muscular core weighing you down- and fuck, your mouth waters as you feel all the chiselled abs he was hiding away beneath his button-ups.

The calm, collected nerd had somehow snapped-

Nanami’s intense brown eyes peek up at you as he nears- and you can only nod.

It’s the only confirmation you need before that infamously handsome tie of his ends up ‘round your wrists—tied together. You’re delighting at just how rough he was being with you thereafter- flipping up your slutty skirt, barely pushing aside your panties.

Nanami’s all the way through taking out his heated, ravaging cock - so thick - and tappin’ his blushin’ red tip between your pussylips—before he takes a look at your heaving just and gapes.

“Oh.”

And before you know it, your blouse is being ripped straight down- buttons flying to the floor.

“Sh-shit-” You’re gasping at the shockwave of cool air that greets you. Your body arches up into his touch as Nanami leans down and draaaags his face across your tits, lapping his tongue all over the swell of your breasts and smelling you. So sweet. “Shit- just fuck me already, Kento-”

And the first thing you’re registering is the sound—thwack!

Before you’re registering the actual understanding that Nanami Gentleman Kento had just rovered his right hand down and spanked your puckered pussylips.

Hard. 

You’re so sensitive that the action sends you seeing stars, and you buck up into his touch-

Thwack!

“The first lesson we’re going to learn tonight-” He twiddles his thumb between your folds, smearin’ them open and taking a nice look at your cute hole. Wet. No matter how much self control the man might have, he can’t stop himself from leaning down and spitting—

A gentle wad of spit that falls vertically between your legs.

The TA hums at the splatter, running his thumb purposefully down your clit. “-patience.”

You begin to whine. “Now that’s just unfair-”

Thwack!

He looks up at you with heavy, half-lidded eyes. “What was that, darling?”

“N-nothing…” You’re forced to admit. And it takes every shred of willpower in you to stop from humping up into his touch so needily—and Nanami doesn’t utter a word as you take control over yourself. He merely leans back and enjoys the show.

Let you be the one to dictate how far he teaches tonight. He’s a patient man.

“Good.” Nanami announces once you’re finally stock-still, having contained your desperation. It was cute how you think you could mask those tiny squirms of your hips, but he lets it go as your first lesson…“Second lesson-”

You’re shivering at the thought.

And he spits between your pussylips once more.

“If you aren’t wet enough to fucking drench me- then I fear you won’t get me, my love.”

“P-please—” And you really were wet enough to drench him- you’re perking your hips up slightly so that he can see. Leaving a sheen of gleaming sap down the front of Nanami’s crotch, “I am I am-”

“Then…” His lips quirk up meanly. He’s sandwiching his ruddied cockhead between your pussylips and fucking- just between your pussylips. “Show your working.”

Show your working?

Show your working?!

It seems you have no choice but to spreeeead apart your legs even further- letting your gooey cunt gush out a few sploshes of slick. Nanami cocks his head down and takes you in, “Hm…good, good.”

And you’ve never felt more shy in your life. “A-and the third lesson, Kento?”

He fits his pointed cockhead between your ready folds.

“Good girls take it all.” 

Did that mean—

Soon enough, you’re throwing your head back- voicebox shattering with a spiel of moans. Mewls. Whines. Any and every noise that possibly couldn’t describe the sheer raw sensation of Nanami’s hot, giiiirthy cock entering your cunt.

He was stretching you out so wide.

Wider than you ever thought possible.

He’s placing a hand down on your front and press-press-preeeeessing down on your stomach as his cock sinks in- fat cockhead opening up your channel. Fucking you like an utter madman. It didn’t matter how composed his reputation stated him to be- because right now Nanami had his blond bangs falling across his forehead, his jaw clenched at the sensations, and his glasses nearly slipping off his face as he tuuuugs you down his cock.

His reddened divot weeping into even the tiniest of nooks and crannies inside you, his cock so large that it could almost be felt from the outside—

“Feel me right in there?” Nanami’s deep baritone echoes out into the room, echoing against all four corners. Five thick fingers of his splay out across your core- “Right there-”

You shiver as he locates the exact spot where he was easing in - another few inches pushed inside. His swollen tip was swirling about your insides and push-push-puuuushing inside, past those restraints and that tight muscle of your hole. “Yes.”

“Feel me openin’ that pussy of yours up?” He grumbles out in a gravelly tone. And it makes the hair on your body stand at attention to realize that this was him speaking like this. This was him pushing his glasses further up his perspired nose, this was him pounding his heated cock into you in short, jerky thrusts. “Feel me teaching her the shape of my hah- cock? Feel me teaching her to take me—”

“Y-yes—” To be quite honest, it felt as though you could feel him in your very throat. “But are you really…”

“Hm?”

And you’re trailing off simply because you’re so awestruck - Nanami’s cock was looooong and bloated. Decorated in a few veins down his sides—they were red and irritated. Thick. Throbbing so much that you swear you could count them from where you were spread apart on his table-

His cock is enough to render you so honest. “Are you sure it even can fit in?” 

And that makes Nanami pause.

“Can it fit?” He breathes out - his voice taking on an airy tone that you’ve never heard before. It’s startling enough to make you look right into his eyes, and the inkling of something…dark in them is enough for you to jolt. “Can it fit?” 

And before you can repeat - before you can even ask him what’s wrong…Nanami reaches up to grab the tied restraints around your wrists.

And don’t mistake him- he isn’t about to set you free.

He’s using that tie as leverage to haul your body down—“You’re asking if it can fit?” Your blond-haired TA grunts out hoarsely, breaths coming out ragged. He hisses when you clench your sopping wet walls around him- “Good girls take it all.”

“Y-yes, fuck-”

“And you’re my good girl, right?” Staring passionately into your eyes whilst he hits every hidden spot inside you in long, lecherous strikes.

His sheer expression - the way you had the Nanami Kento - so ruffled is so compelling that you can’t help but nod your head. “Of course.” And your legs are tightening evermore against his toned waist, interrupted only by Nanami himself.

He uses one hand to throw both of your legs over his shoulders- one each. And before you know it, the big, buff nerd is bending down to fold you in half.

His fat cock reaching the end of your pussy.

“Fourth lesson-” And you’re barely even hearing it above the constant thrashes and thuds at your cervix, the stars you’re seeing. “-repeat all those back to me…”

And just then, the round edge of his tip was grazing right across your g-spot.

“-or you don’t get to cum.”

.

.

.

“How odd…” Professor Yaga’s bushy brows furrow above his shades - it might not be quite professional for a professor to wear such a thing to campus, but to be fair, students showed up in their pajamas half the time. Besides, they helped mask his expressions rather well.

Like right now.

Though Nanami Kento - his ever-loyal TA - could sense that what was upon Professor Yaga’s face was nothing but pure, unabashed surprise. He says your name—“I don’t remember her getting A++’s a single time this semester- and now you’re telling me it’s all that she’s been getting?” The professor squints at his screen, in the middle of doing his customary check-ins before a lecture.

Nanami coughs, “I-I’ve been tutoring her lately…”

Professor Yaga looks to Nanami in surprise - he knew that his blond-haired student would much rather hug a porcupine than a person. Let alone spend his precious hours tutoring one. “Is…is that so?”

Nanami nods silently.

The older man clears his throat - if there was anyone capable enough to bring your History grades up to such an extent, then it could only be Nanami Kento. At this rate, you might be giving his star student a run for his money- “And how has that been?”

“Well it’s been quite- ah, illuminating, sir.”

Professor Yaga raises a brow in question- but before he can ask anything further—the students start trickling in.

Class has started.

To everyone including Professor Yaga, Nanami Kento- and you. 

Winking blatantly at his TA as you waltz up to your chair, skirt shorter than ever, hips swaying…

The professor just barely manages to catch the way Nanami’s eyes…follow you.

And it dawns upon him.

The slight wobble in your saunter.

The strange bruises peeking out above Nanami’s collar.

The traitorous blush upon his face.

Professor Yaga has never searched up course change forms faster.

♡ GETO SUGURU - “Shut up.”

“Make me.”

And that…is precisely what makes you pause.

It’s what makes you s-sputter. It’s what makes you shoot a glare at perhaps the most infuriating man you’ve ever had the misfortune of meeting- and that’s saying a lot. 

Though, he always did manage to surprise you—ever since Professor Yaga’s Philosophy Class 101, you’d been haunted by the thorn that was Geto Suguru.

You recall that first meeting like it was yesterday.

The nervous shuffling of seats. Professor Yaga was notorious for hand-picking only the best of the best for his classes, and you remember the glee that’d shot up your spine at the email of confirmation. You’d been picked. Similarly, adrenaline wafted off the other students in waves around you, burning its sour aftertaste into the atmosphere. Though at that moment, nothing had been sweeter.

Especially once the professor had finally - finally - asked a broad question about the theory of knowledge—

And your hand had shot up.

Right along with the boy’s beside you.

Long black hair. Longer limbs.

Draped across the chair so carelessly, his grey turtleneck hugged him in a way that made your eyes dart away.

Gold-rimmed glasses.

He had the most feline smirk across his face as his eyes met yours- smug. He raised his hand higher. 

And from that day onwards, you knew that Geto Suguru was your sworn enemy.

Rival, more like.

Throughout the semester, you’d answer one of Professor Yaga’s questions, and Geto would be sure to disagree. You’d top the grades in class, and Geto would break your streak on the next one. You’d try not to bash his head in, and Geto would only urge you to more.

He infuriated you. If not by whatever sharp quip comes to his tongue - seemingly always in competition with yours - then by whatever sly wink or smirk he’d throw your way. He was shameless. 

And you were sure Professor Yaga wasn’t paid enough for this.

So being paired together for the biggest project of the semester certainly hadn’t been on your radar. No matter how much predictivism you’d been taught.

And it was by sheer miracle that you two hadn’t strangled each other already-

“M-make you?” You ask. Geto adjusts his glasses and leans back in his chair, arms crossing.

“Make me.” He repeats, and you’re sure by now that you weren’t mishearing things. “You’ve spent this whole semester running that mouth- I’m starting to wonder whether that’s all it does.”

The slight arch of his brow makes you bristle. “You fucker-”

“No need to lower yourself to insults, gorgeous, I’m just stating the facts. Diogenes always did seek an honest man.” He hums, all faux innocence. “Philosophy isn’t just about theorizing, it’s about application. Besides…” Geto shrugs those broad shoulders of his, snug in yet another too-expensive turtleneck. Cashmere, you bet. He looks straight at you as he speaks—“-there’s nothing little about me, either.”

And then you pause.

And then you’re standing in the middle of Geto Suguru’s bedroom- because of course the bastard had suggested his dorm room for your project meeting.

“Prove it then.”

His pink lips part. “What?”

“Prove it.” You repeat. “Philosophy isn’t just about theorizing, it’s about application.”

“Maybe I will. Socrates said to be is to do.”

“Maybe you should.”

“Maybe I—” And of course, you have to be the one to make the first move. You have to be the one to drag Geto Suguru in by his stupid turtleneck, pressing your lips to his. Stupidly sweet.

He’s lapping at you like a man in the depths of hunger, licking his tongue between your gloss-covered lips and moaning- “Fuck.” He rasps out through honed canines. “Fuck.” Dragging himself off of the floor where your poster boards were spread out-

“Sit.” And without a single warning, you’re pressing the heel of your foot between Geto’s meaty thighs. You’re locating where his rock-hard cock is and puuuuuush-

“N-ngh…” He shivers. He blushes at the broken noise that escapes him. “Tha’s all you got?”

You raise a brow and crush his thickening length harder. 

Geto bucks- but he pulls himself together. “Still all you got?”

And so you’re narrowing your eyes n’ grabbing onto him- tearing through Geto Suguru’s stupid, pretentious layers like you’ve always wanted to.

Tugging off his neat pants. Pulling on his tight Aristotle-patterned boxers.

Spitting straight between his lips once he opens his mouth-

And Geto’s bulbous red tip twitches at the sensation of your wet dollop of saliva. He nods with a blush as you’re lowering your naked cunt down on him—“Yes.” Breathing out. Feeling a little dizzy at the sudden warmth of your swollen pussylips, swallowing him up- “Yes- fuuuuck-”

Before he knows it, your hand is around him. “Shut up.” 

“Fuck, that’s makin’ me even harder-” As if to prove his point, his flared tip throbs inside of you.

“I said shut up.” Those pretty fingers of yours claim his pale neck- digging the curves of your nails into his skin. It makes him gulp. “If someone walks in or if the dorm RA catches us, then my reputation will be affected-”

“You mean my reputation- fuh-fuck.” He can barely even get the sentence out before you’re tightening your grip. Perkin’ your pretty hips up juuuust a little before gulping down his thick length.

Inch after inch.

Fat and pulsing inside of you with need.

He was so veiny that each tiny slip n’ slide caressed Geto’s prominent veins against your sweet insides. And he’s throwing his head back at the sensation as though he’s seeing the pearly gates themselves.

Letting out such a guttural groan- “Oh fuck.” Choked-up at the back of his throat. Those milky thighs of his shake as he reaches them upwards to chase your wettened cunt, bashin’ in the roundness of his cockhead. “Oh fuck, fuck, fuuuck-”

“What was that about running one’s mouth?” You scoff. “Seems like you’re all talk- what? Can’t even handle a little pussy?”

“Maybe I just can’t handle your pussy.” He bites back. With yet another soft sound leaving him once your fingers dig against his throat.

“I doubt you’ve ever seen a real pussy in your life.” And when he opens his mouth, you’re quick to interrupt. “Don’t lie.”

Geto’s mouth shuts again. Having you be so stern with him like this…fuck. It makes some strangely carnal part of himself that he didn’t even know he had awakened- and the black-haired man merely ruts up into you a few times. A line of drool dragging down the side of his lips the more n’ more he’s feeling your soft clenches. Just one hard cleeeench.

He was gone for.

His cadence grows stuttered. His glasses slip down his face. And he finally nods in admittance—a virgin. And, listen, you didn’t have anything against virgins- but the fact that he could talk so big and yet get driven so wild by a mere drag of your sloppy walls down his cock- and still not admit to it?

“Pathetic.”

The dribblin’ and irritated crown of his shaft grows even bigger inside of you. Geto’s head plummets forwards, and he’s whispering something inaudible.

“What was that?” You raise a brow- an expression that he raises his eyes to meet and jolts. As if electrocuted. 

“I-I said I didn’t hear you.” He counters. Bucking into you like an animal. “Pythagoras said-”

And you don’t hesitate to emphasize every single syllable. “Pa-the-tic.” 

“What was that?” 

“I said you’re path—oh.”

Rutting into you even harder—fuck. It didn’t even matter that his massive, inexperienced cock wasn’t fitting all the way- because Geto was digging his rounded crown around your most delicate insides.

He somehow locates your g-spot in a few swipes, brows furrowed as though he’d memorized this particular spot through years of reading (he has, all for this very moment…) 

Such a delicious curve that you feel in your very throat, tastebuds sizzlin’ with a lacquer of saliva the moment his cockhead strikes your sweet spot. Your favorite. And more than your low profanities, the way you’re tilting your head down and glaring at him makes Geto Suguru splosh out in more lewd slick. “Watch it, Suguru.”

“Mmm—” He shivers. Hands coming up ‘round your back and tugging you further against his toned front- you never realized that the nerd you sat next to was so ripped. “S-say that again.”

And you swear now you’re beginning to grow a little concerned- he surely couldn’t be that pussydrunk, could he? “I said watch it-”

“No-” Geto cuts you off. “In that tone.”

That tone? And it dawns upon you slow and sensual—like the toyin’ rubs that he was granting on your g-spot now. Though you were the one most in control, letting his swollen cock stir up your insides at a thorough pace - now all the way from the tufts of black at his base to his puckered, drooling tip. “Suguru…” And your hand locks around his neck even tighter- and just as you’d suspected, he’s drenchin’ out even more syrupy sap that leaks out of your hole. Gets fucked back in. “You fucking like being degraded, don’t you?”

A blush rises to his face. His glare targets you even through his foggy glasses, “Th-that’s prepost-”

“You like me yelling at you.” And this time, it’s not a question. You already know—and you’re grinding your hips down onto his toned v-line at a frenzied pace, wrenching those words away from his husky throat before they can even formulate. “You like me calling you pathetic.” This time reaching up and tugging on a stray lock of his hair- “You like me fucking you like a little bitch.”

And his rude, reddened cock - ever the culprit - fills out your insides so much it’s as if you were fit to burst. He empties out his wadded webs inside you- 

“Isn’t that true?” You coo down at him. Poor Geto Suguru, spit-glossed lips and quivering at the feeling of your pussy- “You’ve always wanted to be fucked by me like this, huh?”

And he nods.

He fucking nods.

Eyes glazed. Brows furrowed.

Hips shivering every time they rammed into yours.

And that’s right before one of his tremblin’ hands reaches up to grab your own dominant set - lifting them off of his sweaty scalp. For a second there, you think that perhaps Geto is particularly cagey over his pretty hair- but then he’s opening up your palm and smacking the side of his even prettier face with your hand.

Not hard enough to harm. Not soft enough to not leave a print of your digits across his blushing cheeks.

You’re surging up with questions when-

“Ahhh…” He exhales, eyes fluttering shut at the sting. Once Geto opens them again, you’re noticing that they look clearer than ever now. “That’s better.” He pushes up his drifted glasses.

Rapidly and ravenously, he’s back in control with his sloppy cadence. Globular edge of his cockhead swervin’ apart your folds to tickle your g-spot—then reaching all the way towards the back of your womb-

Again and again.

“D-don’t think m’never gonna catch up, gorgeous.” Geto gnaws down on his lower lip as if to hold back a moan. “I’ve been wanting to fuck you since the start of semester- you didn’t think m’just gonna let you win, huh? Plato said that the first and greatest victory is to conquer yourself.”

“Don’t act like you weren’t just—oh.” You’re out of breath from his sheer thrashes, the ridges of his veins massaging spots you didn’t even know you had. “-weren’t just putty in my hands.”

“Ah- and about hands…” Like he’d just remembered- like he’d been so gone on the feeling of your sopping wet walls that he didn’t even realize what had just transpired, Geto shoots a look down at your hand. Still in his grip. Still prickling with the slap from earlier.

He bites his lip and blushes.

“Slap me again.”

You fucking knew it.

.

.

.

The next time you’re attending Professor Yaga’s class, you have a lot of explaining to do - first of all about why you’d sent him an urgent email in the middle of the night, requesting an extension for the project.

And second of all, why you and Geto Suguru walked into the next class holding hands.

“So that’s what happened.” He doesn’t even need to hear your excuses to know. From here he can already see the bite marks on your neck, the limp in your walk, the way that Geto looked much too happy with himself.

The older man pushes up his shades and sighs-

“Professor-”

“I really don’t get paid enough for this.”

♡ CHOSO KAMO - XXXreads.

“I r-really can’t thank you enough for helping me.” Choso’s sweet, sweet voice flutters out at you—almost inaudible past the mountain of books in his hands. They were as tall as him when set down on the floor, and being held up they nearly grazed the arch of the doorway. “Really. I didn’t know how many trips I’d have to take otherwise.”

You giggle, “Don’t worry about it, Choso.”

“No but- really.” And somehow - perhaps through years of practice, perhaps because of those muscles you always suspected he hid underneath soft fluffy sweaters - Choso’s letting go of his towering pile to push his glasses up. “N-no one really offered…no one talks to me anyways but-” 

He looks at you in slight panic, as though fearful he’s scared you off.

“But really, thank you.”

And you feel your heart clench for the poor boy—it was true, after all. No one in class ever quite spoke to the nerdy Choso Kamo, always with his face close against the pages, always with his hand raised in the air.

He lived more in the world of books than he did with people.

Which was no surprise- not when the people in most of your lectures weren’t exactly the nicest. Despite it being university, it seems people still did pick on him for being a little…bookish. Tittering to themselves as he passed. Throwing scrunched up paper balls at his head. Speaking to him just for the laughs.

And that’s where you came in- there was absolutely nothing wrong with being bookish, or studious, or smart.

In fact, out of everyone in Professor Yaga’s English Lit lectures, you think that Choso was the best one there. The most…handsome, too. But that was neither here nor there!

And so you did your best to divert their attention, to prevent your classmates from taking out their slouched midterm grades and bad hangovers on the nerdy boy. Which included spotting his form (or at least the little you could make out of him) in the corridor, struggling to balance countless books, and stopping to help him.

And you’re nodding at the librarian as you enter- slipping in Choso’s multiple borrowed books through the book drop slot. Soon enough, you’re finding yourself free of all the weight of his books and Choso—holding onto merely one.

“What’s that one, Choso?” You ask in curiosity. 

His voice cracks. Holding the book against his chest, Choso’s handsome face tints red as he looks at you. “Th-this one? Nothing-”

And as you attempt to take a peek at it, he swerves away slightly. Hm… 

Pushing his glasses up his clammy face, “N-nothing at all. This is just one that I have to…to return personally.”

“Personally?” You squint. “Like put on the shelf yourself? I’ve never heard of that.”

“Yes—” With a final squeak, he’s darting into the depths of the library as though his feet were on fire. As though, perhaps, you yourself were fire - and he hunches away from you slightly when you’re following him. 

All the way past the science section.

“A-and thank you so much for your help- again. I wouldn’t want to bother you any longer.” He pants.

All the way past the literary fiction section.

“Really- I wouldn’t want to bother you. I promise you can leave.”

All the way into a darkened corner of the library that you don’t think you’ve ever been in before- where the tables were sparse and the students were even more sparse. In fact, there wasn’t a single soul in sight there.

“Please.”

And Choso ducks into a barren corner of an aisle.

One that you look up at—

And right there on the shelf marker atop the shelf. Right there in laminated plastic. Right there in printed script that could not be erased.

Erotica.

He’d borrowed an erotica book.

And judging by Choso’s familiarity with the section, this wasn’t the first time. Nor would it be the last.

In just a few seconds- you’re walking up to him. And knowing that he was cornered, Choso Kamo can do nothing but bow his head in shame when you reach out for the book—something by some author named Tony with a glitzy, glossy x-rated cover. You’re glancing at the brief summary on the back. 

You catch a few key words.

Nerd.

Bullied.

Class. 

The hot girl who’s the only one to treat him with kindess—and the one to take his virginity. 

.

.

.

“Fuck.” And Choso Kamo’s tone comes out hurried- it comes out harrowed. It comes out hushed—nothing but a low, trembling tone against the shell of your ears. It shakes, just like the rest of his half-naked body as he tucks his fat tip between your pussylips.

Pants pulled down just enough to free his raging erection. 

His plump, reddish crown swipes down your crevice and straight inside your hole. Jerking his hips sloppily back and forth a few times-

“Fuck fuck fuck fuck—” Choso’s voice cracks in your eardrums, entire body feverish as he glues himself to your behind. Your front against the ridged bookshelf, his toned body against yours. 

“Shhhhh, baby.”

He nods, “Shhhh.”

The towering man fucks you like an utter animal- hips pinned to yours and making the wooden furniture underneath creak. It’s as if he doesn’t even realize his own strength, his own girth - how could he? When he hasn’t had the experience to before…

And just the act of putting it in is enough to leave Choso a stuttering, strangled mess. A single tear tracks down his cheek, “Fuh-fuck, it feels even b-better than in the books, baby-”

“Thought about me a lot while reading, hm?” Turning your face around- you meet his flushed one with a grin.

“Well…”

You clench and his breath hitches- “Did you touch yourself to those thinking about me?”

It’s a tone that’s making him shiver - the tips of Choso’s ears burn bright red, and his lips wobble cutely. He nods—he fucking nods away drunkenly before he’s registering it. The look of glee on your face is enough to make the nerdy man choke. “D-don’t tease me, baby.” He quietly whispers out, hand dragging down the side of your upright body. He’s managing to slip his slender fingertips between your legs n’ massage those treacly pussylips of yours—just like his books had taught him. “Though you- I mean- the character in the books did, too.”

“Oh?” One of your brows raises interest. “And what else did this character do, baby?”

Choso whines, his flushed cockhead emptying out the most adorable lines of slick into your deepest depths. He pulls out a little just to watch those ribbons of sap cling onto your cunt- “F-fuck back into me…”

“Hm?”

“The character- I mean.” He gasps out. And a line of sweat glides down the side of his temple as he starts ruttin’ into you even harder, the round edge of his cock opening up spots you didn’t even know you had—Choso was fucking massive. “Would fuck back into me- the nerd.”

And so you’re gripping onto the firm wooden planks of the book shelf, using it as leverage to raise your hips. Up and down. Up and down. “Shit—” Your walls glide down his swollen cock, the patterns of his veins just so prominent. “And what else, baby?”

He’s whimpering at the sound of that pretty pet name on your tongue- so much so that Choso leans over to suck on your tongue. “And then- and then-”

“This is how you kiss, Cho…” You angle your head to kiss him back - so sloppy. Who’d have thought that the lovely, quiet nerd in your lectures was just so…

“And then she’d start t-to clench.” He admits, oglin’ down with big brown eyes at the glistening circle of your cunt. “I don’t really know what that means, baby, or what you have to do to cl—fuck.”

And you’re hearing the exact moment it hits him- the exact moment that the cute hug of your walls leaves him a broken man. Choso shudders upwards as though he’s just been jolted by electricity, and he probes his red, round tip against your spongy cervix- bottoming-out. Barely even starting to pull away from your sultry womb as he fucks inwards.

Held hostage by your cunt—he pants. He shakes. “And then-” Spittle dribbling down the sides of his lips, they twitch with delight. “Just like that—j-just like that…harder.”

And so you do. Fluttering your lashes, “Like this?”

“Harder.”

“Like this-”

“Hard-” Cutting his own words off, the nerdy man reaches his quiverin’ fingers from your slit—and before you know it, he’s pinching your puffy pussylips together. Tight. Ruthless. Making you see stars behind your shuttered lids at the sheer pressure- “Like this. And then in the end she’d beg-”

“Beg for what, Cho?” You ask.

“She’d beg…” The raw draaaags of his flared mushroom tip leave your knees weak. And Choso has to keep a hand constantly looped around your right thigh to keep you from collapsing. Perking your ass up against his ramming v-line, he utters—“You’d beg for my cum…”

Your mouth drops into a pretty circle. “Oh.”

And almost instantly, he seems to regret the filthy words spewing out of his mouth. “B-but that’s just a fantasy and-”

“Well…” This time, you’re the one interrupting him. And it’s done so with the realization that- hey, he was fucking you raw anyways. “Why don’t you go ahead then?”

And he doesn’t even need to hear that entire sentence- he doesn’t even need to hear the middle of it. He merely slaps a hand on top of your gaped maw - effectively shutting you up in such a mean way - and rams his slam-reddened hips against yours. Choso all but fucking collapses his muscular body against your back as he scours his tip into your deepest spot.

The circumference of his girth ending off at your womb.

Before you’re feeling the slow, sensual trickle of his cum filling you up from the inside. It starts off with a few shy dribbles- before soon, the bespectacled man has to gnaw his canines down on your neck to stop himself from making too much noise.

Chasing your hips as you don’t know whether to fuck back or lean against the library- shoving and smearin’ his leaky tip into every orifice. Every nook. Every cranny.

Your eyes roll to the back of your head at the feeling of his slick glaaaaaazing you from the inside, frothing out near your entrance. “Sh-shit there’s so much, Cho.” You murmur out. “You’ve never cum inside anything but your fist, huh? Shit- been savin’ this all up, hm?”

Biting back a groan as your words make his seed shoot just a few more spurts—“Yes.” To your absolute surprise. “Been saving it up for you, baby.”

And a shiver runs down your spine.

Both at Choso’s words-

And at the sudden knocking upon one of the bookshelves- almost as though someone was making their entrance known upon a front door.

Both of you whip your heads up in a panic - with Choso still not moving away from your cunt. All honeyed and driiiipping with his ivory sap. 

And the sight before you two makes the nerdy man wrap his arms around you possessively.

Because standing there—tall, tattooed, dark hair that reached his shoulders. A bright blue jersey with the infamous emblem of Delta Jujutsu Pi - it was none other than Chisato Kamo. 

His twin brother.

A man that shared the same face as the one fucking you, but just about none of his interests.

Well, none of his interests other than you that is…and perhaps that’s why in a few minutes the older brother of the two is being pushed aside so that Chisato can ram his rugged, red tip into you rudely. Scoffing at the way your pussy quivered and clenched around him—

“Cheh…shut up, girlie.” He plasters a palm over your mouth, just as Choso had done so earlier. “Honestly, are ya even my brother? Look at her poor hole- she isn’t fucked even half as good as she should’ve been-”

Choso pipes up from where he’d been banished away from your pussy. “If you just gave me her again-”

“To cum in two pumps again?”

“She said I could- she’s mine.”

“She’s mine.”

.

.

.

“I’m not even going to ask.” Professor Yaga rubs at his throbbing temples—it wasn’t anything out of the ordinary to see his star student, Choso Kamo, walk into the lecture hall with his head bowed low. Unspeaking even with him.

It wasn’t even anything out of the ordinary to see you clinging onto aforementioned Choso Kamo, talking his ear off about your day. And Choso would let you.

What was absolutely astounding was the way in which the aforementioned Choso Kamo’s younger brother - Chisato Kamo, member of Delta Jujutsu Pi, attended more ragers than study sessions, never attended this English Literature class a day in his entire life - was following behind…

Sauntering in as if he owned the place.

He throws an arm around you- and Choso immediately jerks up to smack it off of you.

He sees the two brothers glare at one another.

And Yaga decides that he definitely wasn’t paid enough to intervene with that…

He sighs and starts off attendance, and for the first time has the privilege of hearing. “Mister Chisato Kamo?”

“Here.”

♡ RYOMEN SUKUNA - 2-IN-1

“Isn’t she just…”

“Out of your league?”

“-gorgeous.”

Uraume can’t help but roll their eyes- well, mentally. They knew that their (unfortunate) best friend’s (unfortunate) resolve wasn’t nearly as strong to withstand such a thing, and so they have to settle for letting out a long sigh.

Bringing that red Solo cup to their lips, they hum. “Then why don’t you go there and talk to her-”

“Talk to her- ya must be fuckin’ joking.” Sukuna scoffs, staring down at his white-haired friend. Uraume had been attached to his side ever since their freshmen year rush for Jujutsu Delta Pi, and they’ve seen him through thick and thin. Through his wrestling lows and his professional contract. Through his best moments and…whatever this was.

His embarrassingly big crush on you. Ever since he’d seen you at one of his wrestling games, cheering him on- Uraume has heard far too much about you from him ever since.

He sighs at the sight of you dancing in the middle of the dance floor.

Before narrowing his eyes down at Uraume’s cup. “Seriously…has your fruity lil’ punch - and I know you don’t drink anything hard - been spiked with something? Talk to her- cheh, just imagine-”

“Ryomen Sukuna.” Cut off by the stern, supremely exhausted voice of his best friend. “If you don’t ask her to dance right now—” The smaller person looks up from their far shorter height, dead-set into Sukuna’s crimson eyes. “-then I’m telling the entire party about what a nerd you are.” A pause. “And showing them your Grimmjow figurine collection.”

“On it-”

And it was a dance- just a dance, right?

It’s not like Sukuna was going to ask you to marry him or- or to come up to his (geeky) bedroom or anything. It’s not like one dance would have him embarrassing himself. It’s not like one dance would have you finding out his true identity as a…nerd.

Right?

He was a Health Science major, for crying out loud!

Uraume drinks a shot of straight vodka.

.

.

.

“Fuck, I need ya.” Sukuna breathes out against your throat—one hand tilting your neck to the side for more access, the other gripped onto your hips. He kisses you maddeningly. 

Blindly, the two of you had made your way through the throng of meshed, musical madness and climbed those fraternity stairs up to Sukuna’s bedroom. Where he had your back pressed against- his mouth attacking you wildly—he groans. Licking a stripe up your sweet skin, “I need ya so badly—”

“All talk.” You tut. And before he can stop you - before his rational mind can get the better of him - you let your hand slip to the door handle.

Flinging it open and letting the two of you stumble inside. Door slamming shut.

You’re making it all the way to splay out on Sukuna’s massive king-sized bed before you turn on the lights and-

“Woah.” And your jaw drops at the vision before you. Surrounding you. Someplace you’d never thought to be…Ryomen Sukuna’s bedroom- anime posters, figurines, books upon books upon books, academic trophies as well as wrestling ones. 

And he panics- “This is-”

“You’re a-”

“A little fuckin’-”

“Nerd.”

“Nerdy.”

The both of you pause—before the clear urgency and embarrassment on Ryomen Sukuna’s face makes you smile. He looks away with a huff-

“Do you have glasses?”

Reluctantly - still staring off intensely into a poster of Ouran High School Host Club - he nods.

“Can you wear them while you fuck me?”

He looks back down with heated eyes.

And so he does.

Sukuna keeps his thin-rimmed, tortoiseshell glasses on as he tears through your glittery dress. Sukuna keeps his glasses on as he tugs down his ripped jeans n’ swipes his thickened tip between your pussylips. Sukuna keeps his glasses on still as he fucks you in long, sloooooppy strokes through and through your multiple orgasms.

Once just from fingerin’ over your clit - with his fraternity ring still on. Once more just from eating you out. Two more times just from fucking deeeeep into the sponged softness of your cervix- feeling him fill you out like never before was maddening.

Just about tunneling you through your fifth- meanwhile he hasn’t even cum for the first time yet.

He leans his sweaty head down in a mating press - close enough that the thundering slams of his hips send little flecks of slick flying up to his glasses. Roverin’ reddened cockhead plunging between your pussylips and hitting dead-set on the back of your cunt—splattering both your slick and his own upwards.

Coating the frame and all the way down to the lens, Sukuna snickers as he fucks you even harder—“Better know that yer gonna pay for dirtying these glasses-” He pants between clenched canines. “Yer not getting off that easy, girlie.”

“A-and it’s my fault?” You’re squealing out in indignation. “I’m not the one that—fuck.”

“Fuck?” Sukuna hums. Expression turning into one of mocking thoughtfulness, “Why, yes, according to my calculations I am fucking you.” With that said, he’s dragging his veined cock all over your walls and pulling out—just to tap the swollen curve of his cockhead on top of your cut. Splashin’ away your slick, “Quite the astute observation, brat.”

Gurgling out between the force of his thrusts, “Th-thank you?”

“I was talking to this pussy.”

Your maw drops at his sheer audacity. “Y-you’re not even that kind of nerd-”

He cocks his head, soft pink curls following him. “And what fuckin’ kind of nerd am I, hm?”

“You’re not even the…” In punishment, his length drills into you even harder - as if he was trying to pound those insolent words back into your throat. Making you feel the lump of his girth there where your voicebox crackled- “-the scientific kind.”

Sukuna shoots a glance at the numerous academic accolades atop his shelves. “Right…”

“Because if you were then you’d have found my g-spot already!”

Right now you were blundering out whatever it was that you could say- which wasn’t much at all. Sukuna’s ravenous cock had left your mind nothing but mush, pounding and pounding and it felt as though your cunt was molded to his exact shade and size by now—making you arch up into him. He glides a hand underneath your spine to help you.

It was true, however.

Ryomen Sukuna had made you reach your sultry orgasm five times without even caressing your g-spot. And you weren’t sure whether it was inexperience, or ignorance, or whether he just didn’t care for it but-

But he lets out a deep, dark burst of laughter at your sentence.

The last thing he does before reelin’ his thickened cock back and hitting your womb in a hard slam- “Not the scientific kind?” Sukuna’s repeating to himself, through a slight chuckle. And there was something ragged in his tone that made you shiver—“Not the scientific kind?”

And if his first repetition sounded as though he was in disbelief, that last one sounded as though his brain just refused to fucking register this shit - couldn’t possibly. It’s almost enough to make you take back your statement, but thank goodness that you don’t.

Because within the next split-seconds, Sukuna has his middle finger pushing up his glasses- his eyes locking down above your front. His gaze then calculates the distance between where your swollen pussylips were gobbling him up, and where he could feel his rounded tip scrape your spongy depths. Your womb.

It takes him only mere moments- “The Gräfenberg spot is said to be on the anterior wall…” Accordingly, he stirs his erection deep inside of you. “About 1-3 inches deep as per average statistics…”

And you’re suddenly feeling his bawling divot trace that exact distance down your walls. Up and down. Up and dooooown—“Sh-shit, Kuna-”

“Directly behind the pubic bone- the inferior pubic ramus could…”

“Shit, Kuna- almost-”

“Considered part of the clitorourethrovaginal complex so-” And before you know it, his finger swipes down your pretty clit. Your body trembles, expectedly, and Sukuna’s bespectacled eyes follow that shiver riiiight up your cunt.

“P-please-” You cry out.

And he’s cracking a small snicker. “Tell me if the trials are successful, my lil’ lab helper.”

“Trials?” Climbing up onto your elbows in confusion—what trials? And you’re regretting the action almost as soon as it happens, because just then Sukuna lurches his hips back n’ gives a thorough smooch near your g-spot. 

Near it.

“Trial one…” That little lilt in his pitch lets you know that he’s waiting for your answer.

“F-failed.” Blubbering.

He pushes his glasses upwards and tries again- harder this time. “Trial two-”

“Failed-”

Even harder. 

Mercilessly bashing in the top of your cervix, so smooth and slick you were - he’s sure his rude tip has formed a bruise there. Round and ravenous. 

“And trial number…” Sukuna trails off. Dragging his swollen cock back aaaaaall the way until his tip was just chastely pecking your pussylips, and you could feel every single throb - and then dooooown until those scuffs of pink scrape your pussy. A carnal itch. “-three?”

“F—fuck.” You can’t answer.

Because with that final thrust, Sukuna’s swipin’ down your g-spot perfectly. Making you go numb with the pleasure of him poking that tight orifice- right before you’re bursting into your nth high of the night.

Stars behind your lids. Toes curling until it hurts.

You can’t stop your hips from thrashing upon the squeaky mattress—and Sukuna can’t stop from shovelling his throbbing inches just a little deeper. He grips onto your hips from one side. He locates the exact spot that made you shatter, and digs his rotund tip into even even further - not pulling away even if you were sobbing at the sheer overstimulation.

Just slow, staccato-ed pushes inside.

It made a small primitive part of Sukuna break to pull away- he just wanted to keep on kissin’ your cervix. And he grunts at the back of his throat, the nerd’s own high washing over him in waves.

Silky droplets of cum that end up pouring deeeeep into the back of your pussy—it’s such a goopy mess there. Splashin’ around every time that Sukuna fucked his hips inside, collecting where he kept on pressing at a constant pace - like a button - on your g-spot.

Being fucked through peak after peak.

Thrust after thrust that aaaaaall end up targeting your g-spot. He was proving to you that he knew where it was, that he was that type of scientific nerd. 

And the corners of his lips twitch in delight, “I take that as a success?” Though he wasn’t asking you - not at all - he leans his head down to peer at your pussy. Lens coating in spraying droplets of sap, “Why thank you for the help, my best assistant.”

“Y-you’re so…” Your legs tremble weakly.

And Sukuna pushes those tortoiseshell glasses up his nosebridge- you’re noticing just now that they have small horns in the corners. How fitting. 

He didn’t even bother wiping away the thick layers of your slick. Stuck onto him like a medal - the best, the shiniest out of all those upon the shelves.

“Now, have you ever heard about the A-spot?”

.

.

.

“Mister Ryomen Sukuna.” The man’s stern voice calls out - it was 8AM but Professor Yaga could make a sloth jump onto a racetrack with his tone. Not that it does that much to the star of the wrestling team, the notorious pink-haired member of Delta Jitsu Pi, and Yaga’s very own star student of Health Science.

Sukuna merely looks at him boredly. Lounging an arm around the back of your seat- right beside him.

Honestly, if it wasn’t for the fact that he was (secretly) topping all the exams, then Yaga wouldn’t even put up with all this.

“Please pay attention to the lecture.” Professor Yaga straightens out his papers, “If you have any personal conversation to be had, then please take it out of my classroom.”

“Aye aye, teach.” Sukuna sleazes out a grin. “I was just helping my girl here with the lesson, y’know.”

A chuckle spreads throughout class, little did they know that they were laughing at the smartest student between all of them - perhaps even between the whole year. 

“Then I suppose you don’t mind giving the entire class a briefing-” The professor starts boredly, before he catches the smug look on Sukuna’s face- and Yaga has to look behind himself. The PowerPoint slide he didn’t realize he was on—fuck, it makes him swear internally.

Erogenous zones: The Gräfenberg spot.

“I would be more than happy to give the class a briefing, teach.”

♡ INO TAKUMA - Got webs?

With great power came great…responsibility. Sure. 

That was what Tony had briefed Ino Takuma on—meeting the Avengers and getting to speak with Iron Woman? Absolutely awesome. Meeting the Avengers and saving the world? No biggie. Fighting crime and putting his life on the line everyday? Pssssht-

Getting fucked by you?

Shit, he was about to cream his pants.

Ino Takuma was fucking terrified.

Not because of you, of course, because you were just as beautiful as all his dreams and even more so—but rather he was caught up in the fact that this…well, wasn’t a dream. Exactly that.

It’d all come not too long after he’d confessed to you that he was Spider-Man. Taking you on a romantic dinner at some fancy restaurant he’d had to beg his uncle to make a reservation for, followed by a moonlit walk downtown- and a little breaking into campus to watch the stars from the rooftop. It was perfect.

And the way you’d taken him being Spider-Man? Perfect. 

You were so sweet and loving- punching him in the shoulder (deserved) before taking him into your arms (Ino doesn’t know if he’d ever be deserving of being in the arms of an angel…but…he sure wasn’t complaining).

And afterwards, he’d taken you into his arms and used his webs to swing you all the way back to his apartment. It really was perfect.

And now he can’t lie, he’d taken you back to his apartment - landing neatly on his lil’ balcony ledge - without any ulterior motives. He promises! Ino Takuma is as pure as snow!

Ignore the fact that snow contains atmospheric pollutants and vehicle emissions…but other than that he swears he’s pure! He’d merely wanted to show you his vast Lego collection, perhaps his camera and all those pictures he’d taken recently (maybe not the ones he’d taken of you from afar, however…), and a few more of his nerdy Spider-Man gadgets!

So he swears that the little peck he’d placed upon you was innocent. And when that peck turned into something more…he swears that was innocent, too.

And when that turned into sprawling him out on his chemistry bedsheets, straddling his erect cock n’ sliding your soft pussy down it—fuck, he doesn’t know what’s innocent or not. Right now your friendly neighborhood Spider-Man was trying not to pass out.

Pretty brown eyes scrunching closed at the cleeeench of your soft, sensual pussy- you were so sweet around him that it felt as if you were about to melt. Velvety and slippery. 

The winding zig-zags of his veins rubbin’ against your sides.

You’re letting off a sudden squelch! as you swallow up yet another inch of him - and Ino has to bite down on his lips to keep himself from whimpering. Fucking whimpering—“E-easy there, sweetness.” He’s grabbing onto either side of your waist, with the brilliant idea to control those sloppy bounces of yours- but instead he’s ending up merely…holding onto you for dear life. 

His limbs were weak n’ boneless.

His body was putty in your hands.

He was arching his hips ooooooff of the rickety single-bed- and he doesn’t have to even think before doing it. Body moving on pure instinct. Bulging tip yearning to hit your cervix—“Keep going like this n’ m’gonna cum already…”

“Awww, you poor boy.” You’re tittering- and shit, he knows it might be a little lecherously amusing to you. But does it really warrant enough for you to lean over and push his thick-framed glasses up his nosebridge? He swears he sees heaven itself. “Spider-Man can fight crime- but can’t handle a pussy?”

“I can’t handle your pussy.” Ino bites back, a blush upon his cheeks. “N-not that I ever have before…”

“Then maybe I should be deemed the strongest in the neighborhood, huh?” You hum.

“Y-you wish…” He’s bucking up into you at a frenzied pace- not even full thrusts. Mere, milking half-thrusts that have his precum pouring out in bucketloads—his balls were so heavy that they almost hurt.

“Oh yeah?” And you could feel the twitchin’ of his scouring tip with each one of your sentences - your syllables. Ino was growing only harder and harder at your egging on- “You’re stronger than me, baby?”

He stammers, “W-well…”

“Think you can take me down like you take down all those bad guys, baby?” Cooing- and that tone. Fuck, that tone…it left his flared, reddened tip scraping your insides at an even faster pace. “Think Spider-Man’s gonna win again?”

Ino shivers as you lean down to press your naked chest against his toned one, “Yes…I can—” And then you’re gripping at once of his biceps for balance, “I can-”

All for you to press a pretty peck on the side of his face- and then drag your tongue across where the attractive man was tearing up at the mere feeling of your pussy. So soft and hot. Sucking him up until he was seeing stars- “Then prove it, Taku—”

And it all happens in a split-second.

You don’t even realize it.

One second, you’re staring down at your boyfriend - with his chestnut hair splayed out upon the pillow like a halo, with a faint blush breezing across every inch of him (yes, every inch), with his entire body shaking n’ shivering underneath you. He seemed just so delicate.

Gone on your pussy.

Except…except for that little fire in his eyes that clued you in on something dark.

And the next second- you’re the one staring up at the ceiling. And right into Ino Takuma’s glazed, glittering peripherals. 

He was stimulated on your pussy until tears.

There was something stoic in him, however, as he reaches his right hand up somewhere above you. And you hear it before you see it- the splat! of something wet and clingy sticking onto your wrists. They’re both pushed against the headboard by the sheer force of…whatever that was.

And only when you go to pull away do you realize—oh fuck.

You were stuck.

You’re jerking your head up to glimpse at the pattern of white webs that restrain either hand against the sides of your headboard. Trapped.

And you’re peering up at Ino with a sheepish smile- “Baby?”

He pushes up his thick glasses, “Don’t ‘baby’ me—” And his ruddied tip finds its way between your pussylips in a split-second, jerkin’ in and out at a dizzying rate. Until his furious length was nearly nothing but a blur between your legs. “You wanted this- fuck, you’re gonna get it.”

“Yes-” You’re being manhandled back and forth- unable to do anything. Unable to even hold onto Ino’s locks of sweaty hair for balance, “Yes, yes, yes—please.”

“And you’re gonna fucking- hah, take as much as you’re given.” Ino emphasizes his point by slowing down, giving you loooong and luxurious licks of his puckered crown. “Only as much as you’re given- any complaint for more n’ I’m webbing that pretty mouth up, sweetness.”

“Oh, anything for you.” Fluttering your lashes up at him. It was just so cute how that made Ino immediately break out into a smile, “But what if I want you to cum inside m-”

“God- fuck.” And his wrist twitches as though he’s just about to make good on his promise. “Don’t even fucking…”

That aching cock of his just can’t stop pumping in and out, in and out, in and ouuuuuut.

And before he even knows it, he’s plunging straight into his high- deep and hot inside of you. “Thermodynamics—” And you’re almost sure you didn’t hear him right - spit-slicked lips repeating away as he pumped his hot wads into you - “Polarization functions.” His sweat-matted head dips into the crook of your neck, and he’s pinpointing each single orifice inside you with a dollop of his seed. “Orbitals- fuck, I love orbitals.”

Pouring and pouring out so much of his voluminous cum that it practically overflows.

“W-wait, why are you reciting formulae now, Taku?” You’re breathing out with the last inkling of your rationality, “You’ve already cum-”

“To stop me from losing my fucking mind, pretty.”

And he sounded damn serious.

Damn ruined.

Eyes wide. Voice pitched.

There’s nothing more for him to do but ruggedly hit his cock into every one of your delicate spots now- feeling those tender bundles of nerves with his tip. He slide-slide-sliiiiides down those particular areas—fucking and fucking and fucking you until you’re bursting into your wave of bliss.

“And don’t think we’re done yet, sweetness- maybe next we could get some use out of my camera…”

You’re not making it out of this alive.

Because it turns out that not only does Ino gain superpowers as Spider-Man, but he’s also earning extra…stamina. And he lasts until dawn breaks, he lasts until his fucking bed breaks- you have to tap out before you think he might just break you, too.

Wobbling your way downstairs- you can only clamor onto the walls and furniture for help. “I’m banning you from sex for a month-”

“A month?” Ino gasps, “I only just had my first time-”

“Two months.”

“Sweetness, just let me help you walk-”

You grumble, “Forever.”

And as Ino howls about how utterly unfair it was- and how you had actually been the one to start him up on his superpowers—you’re stumbling across…a figure in the kitchen. Hunched over the island. Coffee in hand.

It’s just then that you remember that Ino Takuma didn’t live alone- no. He lived with his uncle who was supposed to be away on a professor’s retreat tonight.

But it seems…

“Taku-” You elbow your ranting boyfriend, who still hadn’t looked up from his hands. He continues. “Taku-”

“I can handle a villain, but I can’t handle a damn se-”

“Taku.”

It’s only then that Ino looks up from his tear-stained (honestly, he’s so dramatic for the hell of it) palms and sees his uncle. Masamichi Yaga looked as though he was about to burst a blood vessel.

Honestly, in all the semesters that you’ve seen the deadpan professor- you don’t think you remember a time when he didn’t look as though his students were bringing him to the precipice of an aneurysm. 

“H-hello, sir.” You’re the first one to speak, after far too long a silence from your boyfriend - guess Spider-Man has two weaknesses, huh? Yaga nods graciously at you in response, before fixating his eyes on his nephew once more.

“Uncle Yaga—” Ino jolts with yet another elbow at his side. “I didn’t know you were coming today.”

Yaga’s ‘World’s #1 Uncle’ cup chips in his hand.

♡ GOJO SATORU - Goonology.

“—and in this one he’s Frankenstein with a huuuuuge dick- heh.” Gojo titters as he pushes his glasses up, having slid down his face in excitement. He gestures to another file on-screen, “And in this one, they’re clan leaders that have to fuck for an heir. And in this one, he’s a rose toy that turns into a real man and she reeeeally likes that. And in this one, it’s an omegaverse- do you know what an omegaverse is? So basically it’s like those alpha wolf memes but with-”

“Uh-huh.” Nodding absent-mindedly - honestly, you’ve been doing it for so long by this point that it’s likely become a permanent fixture of your demeanour.

Perhaps you’ll go nodding away for the rest of your life.

Perhaps you’ll only nod when you think of Gojo Satoru, and the absolutely massive (concerning) hentai collection he was showing you. Files upon files all meticulously organized and named, with a spreadsheet to follow rating them on the basis of goon-ability.

You’re not sure how you got here, to be honest.

You’d become friends with the nerdy boy at the start of Professor Yaga’s physics course, assuming him to be one of your fellow intellectuals. And what you’d found out was that…Gojo Satoru is an intellectual (there was no denying that, he was the brightest amongst the department with a suspected job offer from JAXA straight out of university—even Yaga himself couldn’t deny it no matter how much the white-haired boy got on his nerves), but that he was also the ultimate…gooner.

The realization didn’t come instantly, of course.

It’d started off with long study nights and mornings spent early in the library, poring over thick physics books with Gojo. Then that acquaintanceship had turned into a friendship. Which resulted in nights dragging Gojo to bars and parties, and helping the nerdy boy cut loose.

And then an even deeper friendship—

After which a few too many Jägerbombs (one, actually, he was a lightweight) ended up with Gojo confessing to you that he was a virgin. You’d guessed as much, to be quite honest.

But then he’d confessed to you that he’d never even had his first kiss before- hell, he’d never even held hands with an in-real-life woman before. And it’s that last comment that got you—what the hell did he mean by an ‘in-real-life’ woman? 

And Gojo Satoru had been more than happy to confess to you that although he might’ve never had contact with a woman in real life - you yourself were a miracle, and the first friend he’d had in…forever - he’d gotten into far too many bases in his virtual world. 

His video games. His manga. His body pillows. His hentai.

Anything and everything that had your jaw dropped in this cozy bar the two of you were at. Eventually, you’d both ended up getting kicked out once Gojo had (far too loudly) talked to you about his collection of personalized ahegao hoodies. And ‘would you like any recs?’

What the fuck…?

You’d gone home to sleep it off that night- but you couldn’t help yourself. Call it morbid curiosity, call it some part of you being a masochist—but you just had to call Gojo up the next day and tell him-

Yes, I would like some…recs. To know what he was into, if anything.

Totally nothing to do with the fact that you were maybe-kinda-sorta nursing a massive crush on the pretty, perfect (other than…perhaps this) white-haired nerd. His blue eyes. His shyness. Those dimples at the edge of his smile. Oh…and perhaps you had to know whether he was actually crazy or not, alright?!

And thus, here you were.

Doing your very best to ignore the body pillow that was splayed out upon his bed, with an original character of his own that looked suspiciously like…

“Me?” You’re blurting out without meaning to.

And Gojo glances over at you in response- fixing those cutely thick glasses of his. “Yes?”

“Why do they all…” Come to think of it…you’re taking a closer look at his glaring computer screen. And the expression of glee upon Gojo’s face at your sudden interest quickly morphs into one of absolute horror at the analytical look in your eyes.

He darts forward to cover his screen. “Wait-”

“They all look like me.” Snatching the computer mouse from his hand, you’re scrolling through the numerous MP4 files. Rows upon rows. Thumbnail upon thumbnail. Each one gave you a brief flash of an animated woman that looked like you, coupled up and being absolutely pummeled by a man with…blue eyes. Rows upon rows. “Satoru…”

And you’re looking at him in silence. He’s silent back.

“Do you like-”

“Yes.” Adrenaline runs through your body. 

And now he looked a bit more like the shy, bookish man that he usually was. Fiddling with the hem of his Digimon t-shirt, that aroused blush upon his face getting replaced by something a bit more innocent.

And by looking at his slender, pretty hands- you’re accidentally sneaking a look at the bulge in his pants. “And do you…” At his questioning gaze, you gesture at his crotch.

“Y-yes.” He admits.

Your eyes widen, “Even—” Looking at the body pillow on the bed.

He huffs and tugs down the hemline of his t-shirt to cover his erection. “Yes.”

And as the silence grows longer, Gojo fidgets more upon his squeaky chair. Restless. Ravenous but…he couldn’t quite browse through his collection with you in here, could he?

Before finally you say-

“And what about the real one?”

.

.

.

“Oh fuck—ngh~” Gojo’s gaze was wide and dilated- the blackness of his pupils almost entirely engulfing his irises. There was a slight glowing glaze on top of his eyes, as though he was drunk - and the way he’s babblin’ away certainly didn’t help his case. “Oh fuck, oh fuck, oh fuck—”

The very crown of his tip was tremblin’ nearly as much as his tone was- and the nerdy man pushes his hips up into yours like an animal.

Claiming the tiniest of orifices inside you as though he’s running out of time.

Splashing around his glittery white cum- because of course he’d ended up cumming just as soon as he’d put it in. 

Stirring around his thiiiick cock until a ring of white forms at your entrance. “Oh fuck, it fuh-feels—” Cute pink lips tremoring. He’s fluttering those long lashes up at you, from where you were straddling his cushioned chair. “It feels so- ngh- much better than it looked in the hentai, sweetheart.”

“Oh yeah?” You titter to yourself. And it’s an action that makes the nerdy man pout, “That good?”

“Yes—” Gojo’s mouth drops, as though he genuinely couldn’t believe that you were asking him this - as though he genuinely couldn’t believe that such a question like this existed. And with his back arching off of the chair slightly, he ruts up into you- again and again. With no rhythm nor rhyme other than the urge to absolutely pound-pound-pound his hot, needy cock into your perfect pussy. “Yes- why the fuck wouldn’t it feel good? Do you know how fucking good you feel?”

And then you clench and it’s enough to send him throwing his back through tears-

“It should be fucking illegal for your pussy to feel this good.”

He sounded dead-serious - and you almost found it cute just how pussydrunk Gojo had gotten after only a few vicious strokes. “I dunno…you had ah- omegaverse and all in your hentai, Toru.”

“My hentai had omegaverse, but I have you…” He’s blubbering out. And it would’ve been the most romantic things he’s said…perhaps, had it not been for what he says next. “And y-you even feel better than my PocketPussy3000…”

Arching one of your brows, “I don’t think I want to know what that is—oh, fuck.”

He gives a sudden swipe, dragging that metallic sensation across every one of your hidden sweet spots.

Oh, how could you have forgotten to mention?

Gojo Satoru - nerd galore, the most inexperienced man you’ve ever met - has a fucking Jacob’s Ladder piercing. A line of ruthless metal barbells that pierced his lengthy shaft, that stuck out lewdly - creating a texture that made your eyes absolutely roooooll to the back of your skull.

Their delicate orbs were rubbin’ coldly against your walls, were molding his interesting shape against your channel. And you find yourself speeding up your bounces just to feel his sensual piercings. 

Just to feel the rub-a-dub of them pushing apart your snug cunt- clinging onto any tiny crevice.

Gojo’s giving an inexperienced slam against the back of your womb and you cry out—“Shit, how can it feel so good-” Holding onto his broad shoulders to keep yourself from falling off of his lap, “You’re really a virgin, aren’t you?”

He pushes his glasses up smugly. “That, I am.” Feeling more confident now, he’s grabbing onto either side of your hips- if this was one of his hentai, then he’d probably use his alpha powers to induce you into heat. Then probably pound you with his cum until you’re bloated…that last one, he could still do. He gives you a few rough thrusts, “And because I’ve got the power of gooning and hentai on my side-”

“Okay, I wouldn’t go that far-”

“Why not?” There was that smug bastard you knew and loved in class- so sure he was right. Gojo cocks his head defiantly to the side, sure he had you wrapped around his finger. Cock, more like.

But just then you’re clenchin’ your fluttering cunt around his cock—making the overconfident nerd stutter, making him blush, making him jerk his hips up into yours and splat! out another wad of cum. Adding onto the puddled mess upon your cervix, slick and heavy with syrup. “What was that, Toru?”

You’re keeping him absolutely hostage.

And it felt so good for you, too, with the nooks and ridges of his Jacob’s Ladder driving you absolutely wiiiiiild. Especially the orbs at the end of his barbells that slipped easily into your walls.

Again.

And again.

And again-

He’s staring up at you through his lashes, words sputtering. “I-I meant-”

“Hm?” Yet another clench- a mere clench. And that round, reddened tip of Gojo’s ends up swervin’ straight against the door to your womb—the nerd’s mouth waters as he thinks of all the possibilities…

“I just meant that m’thankful, sweetheart.” Gojo’s crooning up at you. He loops his arms around your papping! waist and brings you deeper against his toned chest, probin’ your spots even deeper. “I’m so thankful to get to- hck! fuck a pussy like this- so, so thankful…”

“Mhmmm?”

“There’s a reason I cried a little when I first put it in, y’know? A loser like me could never have even imagined- fuck.” Answering, he keeps on drilling his hips up into you - sloppily. Semi-thrusts that leave your entire body on edge from how fast n’ frenzied they were becoming. “And no hentai nor manga nor bodypillow in the world could ever compare to you—” 

“Fuck-” You whisper. It was only making his mazing tip, his massaging piercings, do their magic even harder inside your slippery channel.

And Gojo whispers - mostly to himself. “I got those just because they looked like you, anyways…”

But you’re hearing him perfectly.

And it takes only a few more swerves n’ grinds of your hips to draaaaag yet another orgasm out of Gojo Satoru—you’ve lost count which one it was for the night. But it’s enough that your walls feel slightly inflated with the sheer volume of seed pumped into you, the clingy wads n’ webs stuffing you so full.

Part of it sprays between your legs and glues the backs of your thighs to his waistline. 

And you’re only tightening them ‘round him deeper- ready to ride him maddeningly through another burst of euphoria.

But the surprise comes when Gojo pushes his foggy glasses up in determination - it comes when he peeks down at your pussy through his sweaty bangs. Pinkish tongue sticking between his teeth, the nerdy man locates your neglected clit in a few seconds and starts rollin’ over it with his thumb like a machine. 

He wasn’t quite sure what to do - but he knew from those sultry mewls leaving you that it felt good. And so he’s alternating between slow hearts n’ rapid stripes drawn down your puffy nub.

Every drag of his digit sending sparks to your brain. Overheated.

“Shit-” You’re somehow managing to choke out. And it takes only one-two-three more twists n’ turns of his wrist to get you to start trembling. “Shit, shit—Toru. That feels so-”

To get you to cum.

And so you do-except…you weren’t just cumming.

You were squirting—glittering, hot splashes of sap escaping between your pussylips. They splatter all over Gojo’s slender waist, drenching him all the way down to his chair- and he doesn’t care. 

Fuck, he’s having the girl of his dreams soak his cock with her pussy—and you think he’d care about something like that?

Barely paying attention to his own orgasm, Gojo balances you on top of him n’ drags you through your high. Such strong, sudden zaps of bliss going from his roverin’ tip and straight up to your muddled mind—just a few hungry hammers, and you’re already babbling with pleasure. The knobs of his Jacob’s Ladder massaging your sweetest spots, only elongating that wave of euphoria even further.

It shatters through your body until you’re a mess.

You’re dripping between your legs- and from your eyes. Sobbing into Gojo’s shoulder, “Sa-Satoru, that feels so good—fuck, that felt so good.” Perking your hips up n’ down his swollen shaft—even the area ‘round his pelvis was reddening with impact. “You did good, baby.”

“I d-did?” Gojo asks.

And you can only nod. “You have to delete that insane collection of yours, though.”

“W-well of course, I will…” He smugly pushes his glasses further up his nosebridge- and the sudden improved vision lets him see the dark patch you’d squirted all over his favorite Digimon t-shirt. 

And Gojo can’t help himself from tugging up that hemline and fucking sniffing your sweet, sweet juices-

“Now how about I introduce you to my PocketPussy3000…that I named after you?”

.

.

.

Professor Yaga is just about reconsidering his resignation plans- it’s been a while without any…incident involving his students pushing him to the verge of an aneurysm, he hasn’t had any problems with grading, he hasn’t had any problems with the other staff.

Overall, life has been good.

The problem comes when Gojo Satoru comes to class looking as though he’d come to the very same conclusion.

That morning, he decides that the bespectacled man - his star student in Physics class - looks blissed out…too blissed out. His skin was glowing. His eyes seemed sparklier than ever. He was practically hovering into class.

And Yaga’s eternal conundrum is put to rest when you walk in right after, looking (perhaps not as dramatic) equally happy.

Ah…he connects the dots. And he catches the way the two of you look at each other as though you wished the rest of the class didn’t exist-

Yaga shudders. He reconsiders reconsidering his resignation plans.

He splits the two of you up during seating.

Gojo’s loud cries sound like music to his ears.

♡ HIGURUMA HIROMI - Mr. Mr.

“Fuck…” Higuruma Hiromi finds his head pressed against the polished mahogany of his desk yet again, breathing out his woes into it as though it could hear him.

It always was his most avid listener, these days.

He ignores the newest paper that’d landed on his desk - Higuruma wasn’t above taking cases that interested him anymore. But then again, most cases required attention—and that was exactly what he was lacking right now. These days.

And who else was to blame for such a transgression by Tokyo’s best law professor but you? 

You. You. You. You.

Ever since you’d walked into his lecture hall at the start of semester- your pencil skirt sharp, your mouth even sharper. Higuruma would be lying if he said he wasn’t drawn in by the sheer breadth of your knowledge—even to a man like him who lived and breathed law itself.

He was stunned.

And you were stunning.

Both in your beauty and your brains- and everything else in-between that Higuruma Hiromi just couldn’t stop fucking thinking about-

It was driving him crazy.

He thinks he might be going crazy.

He can’t spend a single class without his eyes drifting towards you—as though drawn in by magnets, even though he didn’t really have a point to emphasize nor any question to ask. He can’t grade your papers without fearing that he might just subconsciously slip in an extra point or two - not because you need it, but because he’s a weak man. He’s a weak, weak man. 

And Higuruma always ends up loaning off your papers to some other attorney friend of his - it always does make him breathe easier when he finds out that you’re always given top marks regardless.

Even the clock has found itself inutile ever since your entrance into his life—no longer is it a device to display time, but rather a countdown for when he might see you next.

The next class. The next orchestrated bump in the hallways. 

The next time he sees your beautiful, beautiful smile.

If Higuruma isn’t in class with you, he’s spending his time counting down the hours until he does. And that’s what he was doing at this very moment—that’s what he was attempting to stop right now.

“I must have gone mad.” He runs a hand through his thick, black hair - usually parted to perfection, but it usually seems to unravel whenever he thinks of you. As does every other part of him. And Higuruma whispers his confession into the late hours- with no one in the vicinity right now.

Class had just ended, and he was still reeling from the vision of you in that short, short skirt. So short…

Higuruma’s breath hitches at the mere memory of it, like a dying man. He’s always been the type of man to prioritize his career - and that means he’s never quite…felt anything like this before. He’s never quite looked out of his books long enough to take interest. Perhaps he’s been in a maddened haze—“That must be it.” He declares, “I really must have gone mad-”

He stands abruptly. Slightly teetering.

“Because I can’t—” You were a university student. You were a decade his junior. You were the beautiful face he got to see everyday- and yet, he wasn’t supposed to notice just how beautiful you were. “It’s not right. It shouldn’t be done. I really can’t-”

“Professor?”

“My law student of all things-”

“Professor?”

“And yet- fuck, I’ve never wanted anyone so desperately-”

“Professor.”

Higuruma feels his blood grow cold. Without a speck of sense in him, still, he’s whirling around to face you - he’d recognize your voice above thousands.

You were standing at the edge of the doorway, tip-toeing slightly inside as though unsure whether you should interrupt. One of your hands rest at your chest to feel your beating heart—and the other one slowly but surely closes the lecture hall door behind you.

“I came here to get a bag I’d left behind…” You’re starting off- and to Higuruma this doesn’t feel real. He’s falling into his chair—“But maybe I’ve left something a little more ah- important.”

And that smile of yours definitely doesn’t feel real.

“I-I beg of you to reconsider.” He starts off, nervously fiddling with his glasses frames.

“Motion denied.” You smile, stepping closer. And the way you’re looking at him—fuck, he feels his cock start to throb already.

“I’m much older than you, my angel.” Higuruma attempts to reason - but the thing is, he isn’t sure whether he’s attempting to reason with you or himself. Because you certainly had an air of finality about you- “And I’m your professor.”  He gulps. He has his books in his office- so, so many books. And yet, none that would help him find the words for right now. “Not to mention, there are so many other eligible bachelors who would be a better f-”

“Dismissal with prejudice.” You hum. Examining the older professor before you—dark circles, beautifully tragic, such a bookish air about him. “Anything else?”

He pushes his stern glasses up his nosebridge. “No…sentence accepted, Your Honor.”

.

.

.

And it’s not too long before you’re finding yourself spread flat across Higuruma’s desk - all polished, poised, formal. Not a speck of dirt or document out of line—except for the fact that you had your back against it and was currently being fucked dizzy on Higuruma’s fat, throbbing cock.

Throwing both legs on top of his shoulders. Pinning you down with a hand at your throat. 

He was giving you all that you were going to get- and all that you were getting were looooong swipes of his bulging tip. In and out. In and out.

Plummeting between your pussylips n’ tickling the deepest spots in the back of your pussy. The deepest—Higuruma makes you taste his rotund circumference at your throat, before he’s dragging his sloppy cock back out and repeating it all over again.

Reddened tip to the tiny curls at the base of his cock- and luckily for you, this was everything you’d been wanting since the second you walked through those hall doors.

Ever since you’d seen your hot, nerdy law professor. 

Higuruma pushes his thin-rimmed glasses up his nose, and you’re gulping at just how handsome he looks. A thin line of sweat tricklin’ down the side of his temple- “Shit-” He’s hissing between clenched teeth, voice higher as though he still couldn’t believe that this was real life. “Shit, you’re taking me so well.”

“A-anything for you—” You’re gasping out. His thrusts are hard enough that you swear you could feel him empty out his pre all the way in the back of your throat- and you swear you could taste it, too. That salted caramel flavor that clogged up your tastebuds—

“For me, huh?” Higuruma’s handsome nose crinkles, and he slams a set of his fingers down upon your clit. “Teacher’s pet.”

You’re whining at the stars that makes you see. “You have no idea.” It was only in the slight reprieves between his thrusts - when he’d pull back from your cervix and relieve the pressure on your womb - that you could manage to even speak. “You have no idea how fuck- how long I’ve wanted to fuck you.”

“That long, huh?” His dark eyes widen.

“So long.” And you’re not even sure why you’re being so honest - but you suspect it has something to do with just how stupid he’s making you with his textured length. Those zig-zagging veins and ridges upon his swollen cock—fuck. “You have no idea how many nights I spent- ngh, poring over textbooks. Just to memorize things n’ impress you.”

His achingly-hard cock grows even plumper inside of you. “You d-did that for me?”

“I wanted you to be proud of me—” You’re almost sheepishly admitting to him. You dare to hide your face behind your hands- but Higuruma stops you then and there to take in your full expression. “-sir.”

And that almost makes the stoic man…pause.

It almost makes his lungs heave out.

It almost makes his glasses slide completely off of his nose-

Something in him just snaps - perhaps his sanity, his restraint, his hips slamming into yours until your very mind jolts. Fuck…

And Higuruma has to stare at you - whilst his cock still shovels in at a rapid pace - for a few seconds just to register. He has to throw his head back—“Fuck. Substantive and procedural law, right and duties- liabilities.” Such an odd slew of words and concepts from your syllabus leave him, growing even more feverish the more fervent hush hips become. “Theory of legal positivism—”

“What are you…” You don’t even have the words to describe it.

But Higuruma looks down at you with such dark, depraved eyes - a slight glaze atop them that made you realize he was completely and utterly pussydrunk. “That’s to distract myself, angel.”

“Oh—fuck.”

And before you know it, he’s scooping your lower half even further into his body and bending deeper down. Deeper. Deeper. Deeper. Higuruma folds you until the cheeks of your ass aren’t even touching the polished wood of his desk, and his cock reaches in so deep that it makes your pupils cross-

“And that’s to remind you that big girls never hafta bow down- not to anyone.” A line of drool travels slowly down the side of his mouth - he kisses you. “So how about it—”

“You want me to call you-”

“I’ll be calling you-” He starts off. “-something very fitting, Your Honor.”

You shiver.

And he basks in his own glee - what else for his star student?

Higuruma’s poundin’ away at the gooey back of your pussy- all the way until it feels as though he wants to fuck you through his damn office desk. 

And you’re sure by now that a print in the shape of your two bodies has formulated on top of the varnished mahogany—and knowing Higuruma, he’d likely just admire it all day. And as if he was trying to make this dream a reality, his bludgeoning pace increases until that gluttonous cock of his was nothing more than a dark pinkish blur between your pussylips.

Thrashing and swiping.

Locating your sweetest spots.

Higuruma draws a particularly good stripe down your puckered g-spot and you moan- “Please- m’so close, s—”

“What was that?” He cuts through. Stern. 

You didn’t think you’d get anything past him, did you? There was a reason he was so damn famed in the courts of Tokyo.

Higuruma’s sharp eyes glint. Through slower, sensual draaaaags of his cock he asks- “What- was- that—”

“Nothing-”

“I believe there may be inaccuracies in that statement.” He hums. Thickened shaft plummeting once more to your womb—thud-thud-thudding. “Try again.”

“You must’ve heard me-”

“Hearsay.”

“I called you-” Ultimately, you’re left to cry out. Nothing left but to have Higuruma’s hazy peripherals staring intensely down at you, and his cock twitchin’ as he pumps you through your orgasm. “…sir.”

And he reels back in delight at having won.

Your body trembling. Your eyes welling up with tears.

It was such a startling wave of bliss- one that almost made it hard for his fattened cock to fuck deep into you - not with your walls clinging onto him like that. And he has to fight to keep himself from cumming right now, just wanting to let you bask in the simmering pleasure first.

Just rammin’ a bruise of his cockhead against your cervix. Again. And again.

Though his steamrollin’ cock fucks you through peak after peak, Higuruma’s smile stays as mean and merciless as ever. Tutting, “Someone deserves some punishment, sugar.”

You’re still shivering from the force of your euphoria- “R-request for a fast trial?”

Wordlessly, Higuruma then reaches somewhere behind you—and you don’t have to turn your head to know what it is. Because soon enough, he’s bringing his shiny gavel to your line of vision- and dragging the honed tip of it straight between your legs.

“My conditions are that you cum with just this-”

“And my punishment if I can’t?” You breathe.

That perfectly poised wooden tip is just starting to inch inside and graaaaaze down your tight walls.

Higuruma gruffs, “Then I sentence you to ride my face until you squirt.” 

He smiles.

.

.

.

“Hiromi—” Masamichi Yaga’s drawling tone echoes down the empty corridor- it’s been just a few hours since he’d last been in the Law Department. Not one of his usual haunts (and he was almost glad for it, law students just seemed so much more…intense), he felt awkward waddling down the barren place.

It was long after classes had ended, though it was a sure shot that Higuruma would be in his office.

If not for the little…task he’d sent his friend—then because of his workaholic nature. Yaga was sure that his friend would have that little letter typed out for him by now, Yaga was sure that by tomorrow he could walk up to the Dean and let them know that he was resigning. Officially.

And with such a formal letter to boot- his pension was going to be luxury!

He was sure of it…

So tell him why he’s wandering right up to Higuruma’s door and hearing the strangest…groaning noises from inside. Worried that perhaps his friend might have gotten into some trouble with his health, Yaga’s hands twist upon the door handle- one that would’ve been less easy to open than a safe.

It was firmly locked.

“What the…” His brows raise well above his shades, and Yaga can’t help himself- he really can’t. He was acting under the presumption that his close friend might have been hurt—alright! The older man leans down to the keyhole on the door and…peers inwards.

He knew that Higuruma was never the type to keep a key in a door- he preferred deadbolts and such. But oh, how Yaga was wishing it was the opposite as he snatches a glimpse.

And what he sees is his best friend- not suffering from any health complications or injuries as he could see. Instead, Higuruma seemed as healthy as ever as he arched you deeper into his front and fucked you - you - in a way that made Yaga blush.

He’s shooting upright as if burned.

Speedwalking down the corridor—fuck the letter, fuck the Law Department, fuck everyone around him.

Yaga was never resigning.

A/N. Got a little…carried away with this one whoops-