#amyswriting

It’s some four or five hours later, in the mid-afternoon now, that you make your way through the empty halls of the Wisteria Manor. You come to kneel at a set of closed shoji doors, and take a slow, deep breath to calm the excitement in your heart.

You rest a hand on the seam between the doors. "Shinazugawa-sama? Pardon the intrusion. I've brought you botamochi, if you would like–"

You don't even hear him on the other side of the doors before the shoji screen is slapped open aggressively. You gasp, ripping your hand away and tilting your head back to gaze up with wide eyes. Up into the pretty lavender glare and scarred face of the Wind Hashira.

His stare is intense, a brow arched sharply behind messy white hair. Behind him, the screens leading to the private gardens of his rooms are open, allowing a breeze to flutter in behind him.

The frown on his lips twitches, looking you over where you kneel before him with some skepticism. The mottled scars that riddle his skin don’t quite hide the pink on his cheeks and chest.

"What have I told you about calling me that?" His voice is low, growly, and sends a shiver down your spine. You resist the urge to pull at the collar of your yukata.

You give him an overly innocent look that has him tilting his head back in exasperation, never taking his eyes off you. "It's only appropriate, Shinazugawa-sama."

He snorts, pursing his lips as if to keep a smile at bay. You bite your own and bow in deference when he looks to the small table of mochi and tea next to you.

Silently he steps backwards, leaving the shoji open. You lift the table, eyes on Sanemi's broad back as you enter on your knees and close the door after you. Sanemi paces towards the second room of his suite, where his bedding, sword, and personal effects reside. Light filters in similarly from the open shoji towards the private gardens that act as a personal training space for him alone.

Sanemi turns once more, thick arms crossed over his scarred chest. In the privacy of his quarters, you let yourself be caught admiring his physique before looking down demurely and bowing once more.

"Please enjoy this gift from the Master. He's sorry for the concern he's caused you with the presence of the Kamado siblings and the results of their trial–"

Sanemi interrupts you, eyes askance to the garden. "Master has nothing to apologize for. He's wiser than me, even if I think this particular interest of his is a fool’s errand. But I will uphold his choices no matter my opinion."

You want to smile at his obvious admiration for the Master, and allow one to play on your lips for him to see when you sit up.

"Then perhaps you will enjoy it simply for my own satisfaction?" You can't help the breathy edge to your voice, peering coyly up at the handsome Hashira to drink in his reaction. "I made it just how you like it."

Sanemi’s stare is intense, as usual. Even the light blush on his cheeks doesn’t soften the brightness in his eyes often mistaken for aggression, your heart quickening in your chest in excitement.

He steps forward and kneels, pushing the table aside so he can be inches from you. You swallow, keeping still and proper before him.

A finger trails over your collar, hooking between cotton and skin, and tugging it from its proper place. Goosebumps at the whispering touch crawl up your breasts, a shiver following when Sanemi drags his finger down to the obi beneath your bust, stroking over the softening flesh with ease.

The sleeve sags from your shoulder, revealing more to the Hashira.

"Very kind of the Master to send such a gift to me, deserved or not." His voice is a raspy growl, gaze greedy upon your skin. He untucks his finger from the fallen fabric, dragging the tip over the curve of your shoulder, across your decolletage, your collarbone, to tuck beneath the opposite shoulder’s covering and repeating his possessive and wholly inappropriate unveiling of you.

You shiver as your tits become uncovered to the open air and to his heated stare. His finger sweeps it down further, feeling the warm silkiness of your cleavage, your nipples already hard when his knuckle passes over them. The stiff collar of the kimono hugs around your biceps, the cotton under layer tickling goosebumps across your skin. They rise quickly, and you’re forced to take a shaky breath, body tensing at the ticklish rush of pleasure that courses through you at his barely-there touch.

Sanemi holds your gaze only for a moment before he lets himself admire your throat, your breasts again. He’s starting to blush harder, and you can see the bulge of his cock already pressing against the loose fabric of his pants where he kneels casually before you, knees on either side of your own. It makes your thighs tingle, squeezing together as subtly as you can hide, your fingers fiddling together endlessly. You’ve only just noticed that your chest is rising quicker than before, in an almost lude display of your near uncovered breasts, that Sanemi is drinking in with an eagerness that only has your heart racing faster.

"You made these?" He asks, suddenly turning his attention to the mochi gone forgotten beside you. The back of a finger strokes over the soft skin of your breast until he finds one of your nipples again, successfully revealing it to the air between the two of you and pinching it softly. He ignores your gasp and the straightening of your spine, acting entirely interested in the gift you’ve brought him.

You flounder over the warring stimulus of his finger and his question, and glance at the sweets as well, trying to ignore the gentle tug of your breast that makes your cheeks sting hot, and how he so nonchalantly acts as if he isn’t pleasuring you while talking. "O-Oh? Um. Yes," you answer dumbly, a breathless sound, a little off kilter from his sudden focus shift from your naked top half to your hand-made gift.

He releases your aching nipple and picks one of the sweets, and when those sharp eyes return to you, he's bringing the mochi up to your lips.

You stare at each other for a moment, your brain slow to catch up while he stares at you expectantly. Your mouth parts, not even knowing what you meant to say except that you did not make them with the intention to share. Sanemi pushes the sweet, glutinous ball into the opening you provide, and you clumsily take a bite, reaching up on instinct to grip his wrist. For some reason the strong, furious Hashira hand feeding you has you more embarrassed than him pulling your tits out of his own accord in plain view of the outside world.

Sanemi watches you eat, as if sating a hunger that is of a different nature, letting you hold his hand where it still hovers under your chin to catch any sugar that could fall. You lick your lips of the powdery sugar coating you added to one of the pieces on a whim, imported from somewhere in Europe, savoring the sweet plum and rice inside with a small noise of delight. He watches your tongue with rapt interest.

You blink up at him. "Oh, I outdid myself," you murmur softly, giving the Hashira an amused smile, lifting a hand to wipe any residue of the dark bean paste and white powder left on your lips.

He catches your wrist in his other hand, eyes sparking with something devious. "Did you, now?" He growls, leaning in close and kissing you roughly.

You gasp and make a sweet sound against his mouth, his tongue dipping in to taste you and your gift. Sanemi kisses you slow but consuming, ever shifting forward on his knees with each pluck of lips as if he cannot help but try to get closer to you. Your head tilts back against the force of his eagerness, world spinning behind your eyes in a moment of blissed vertigo. He catches the back of your head, cradling you close to prevent you from falling.

When he pulls away, your lips are left tingling and parted, your hand pressed to the loose collar of his altered uniform. Before you can catch your bearings, he's pressing the rest of the mochi between your lips. You make a small sound of surprise, but obediently eat while still gripping his wrist, skull cradled in his other big hand, holding his gaze as you suck his thumb clean of that powdery sweet coating when he insistently presses it against your wet lips.

Sanemi growls when his thumb pops free, and that same hand gropes at one of your breasts with more aggression than before, making you squirm until you swallow the rest of the botamochi he fed you.

"Sh-Shinazugawa-sama," you complain–and not because you don't like how he touches you. "You–You haven't even tried my mochi." You pout up at him, leaning into his hands with a lustrous arch, both hands gripping the wide collar of his useless shirt now.

His lips are curling in a self satisfied smirk, hand squeezing your breast. He pulls back, having scooted deep into your space to feed and kiss you, and you glance down at your breast in his hand, seeing a smear of powder sugar and sticky paste on your skin, straight from his fingers. He pinches you again, around your nipple, tugging on the weight of your breast until you hiccup and straighten your shoulders up again to try and ease the sting, your cheek hot against his palm. You look up at him from under heavy lashes, lips pulling into a pout of desire, and moan softly for him.

His nostrils flare with deep breath that puffs out his chest. Sanemi hunches down with a growl, sloppily sucking as much of your nipple and tit into your mouth as he can. You grasp at his shoulders, his hands latching onto your arching waist, one higher to push more of your delicate breast into his mouth, and keen when he pulls away with an obscene pop that makes your it bounce and ache, drooping slightly over the tight belt of your obi–only to give your other breast the same rough, stinging treatment that has you moaning and digging your nails into the fabric on his shoulders. Trying to hold on and not fall backwards.

“Sa–!” You quickly swallow his first name down, yanking on his hair as he drools and nips over your tits with abandoned propriety. “Shinazugawa-sama, I-I’m going to be insulted i-if you keep ignoring my mochi!”

Hot breath cools his spit when he laughs into your bust. He's back in your face, grinning down at you, all teeth and raw sensuality that has you squirming on your knees, lips and chin shining wet. His spit cooling on your breasts makes you shiver against his chest. "My bad, let me taste it again," he whispers, kissing you with tongue once more, swallowing the sound you make, until your head is spinning and you have to hold onto him for dear life as you’re bent backwards under the force. Both of his hands grip your tits, massaging and groping them upwards, big warm hands tugging on them so unabashedly that you’re both embarrassed and aroused, your hardened nipples brushing the heated warmth of his chest simply because the fat of them is so cradled in his palms.

His tongue presses against yours, overwhelming and overpowering just like the rest of him until you’re concerned he might not let you breathe again. You’re reeling and panting when his teeth tug on your bottom lip with a deep hum of satisfaction to peer down at you through thick black lashes. Your tits are fully caught against his chest now, your whole body having been tugged up against him and kissed pliant by the man.

"I want another," he breathes, kissing you when you make a needy sound, your fingers tugging at his clothing and hair, pulling him in, until the warm scarred skin of his chest is rubbing against your pebbled nipples again.

Sanemi tugs and yanks at the rest of your kimono, strong pulls that jerk on your body, but never away from him. He's tugging you deeper against him, one palm always keeping you glued to his front even if it's inconvenient in his quest to divest you of any and all coverings and has him growling in annoyance.

But Sanemi is never lacking in determination, and soon enough the neutral cotton fabrics pool around your knees in a less than elegant pile. His big hands are warm on the skin of your spine, over your asscheeks, massaging and groping all of your skin as he likes. You’re dizzy, gripping at his strong shoulders to keep yourself grounded in the face of his near overwhelming need for you.

Sanemi’s cheeks and ears are warm under your palms as he kisses over your throat and chest, huffing humid breaths against your skin until you quiver. “Missed you,” he mutters into the crook of your shoulder, hands pulling at your thighs, tugging your knees over his hips ‘til you’re sat right on his lap while he remains kneeling; a not unfamiliar position he’s fucked you in before. “Thought about you every day,” he growls against your cheek. He grinds up into you with deep, almost painful massaging of his hands into the meat of your thighs, and the loose fabric of his pants makes the curve of his cock a teasing whisper against your cunt.

You whine and roll against him, locking ankles behind his back, pressing kisses over the blush on the bumpy scar of his cheek. “Missed you, too, Sanemi,” you say back, breathless and desperate to kiss every inch of him, so he knows it’s true.

Because you know after so long away he’ll want to be aggressive and get his frustrations out before being soft. If past encounters are anything to go by, Sanemi will have you on your knees first–show his power and find great pride in fucking you stupid as a reminder for you both why you come to him and continue to come to him for your pleasure, even though it’s always been so much more than just something physical you. Only after he’s needlessly proven himself will he take you softly and lovingly.

Sanemi bites you when you admit to longing for him, too, huffing into the mouthful of flesh, strong fingers digging into your body like he could pull you into him and keep you there with him always. Your heart throbs, as does the rest of you, tugging on his hair until he’s forced to pull back, slate eyes wide and staring up at you with those intense emotions that scare everyone else away.

And you smile down at him, knowing Sanemi is just a lonely man who wears his heart on his sleeve and isn’t scared to feel what he feels. You kiss him with a hum of happiness, smoothing your hands down his throat and over his chest, and feeling his heart beat so quickly in kind.

The Hashira grips you against him and quickly turns where he kneels. He kisses you back sloppily, walking on his knees across the tatami until he’s dumping you down onto his futon, his strong body following after you. You mewl when he rubs against you, his hips rolling down into yours. He kisses you breathless, unconcerned about your struggles to reach for the bunched clothing around his waist, trying to push it down to feel all of his cock, all of him. Seemingly only concerned to suck kisses over your cheek and throat, to worship your tits and push them against his face and growl into the fat he happily bruises.

“Sanemi,” you whine, pressing your face into his white hair, humping up into him in frustration. He grunts into his mouthful of your breast, flicking his tongue lewd and quick over the nipple he’s suctioned himself too. Your back arches roughly, brain fogging over at the live-wire like tingle your nipple has become under his attention.

You’re aroused and embarrassed watching him pull back while sucking on your breast, tugging your breast taut til it pops free again and bounces back into place, a movement he watches with eagerness. He flicks his eyes up to you, brows arching almost condescending, unconcerned with your fist still tight in his hair.

“Not so hard to say my name now, is it?” He teases, laughing when you smack at his shoulder. His abs flex, and you can help watching how he sits back on his knees and pulls his hakama and the wrinkled uniform down and off with little fanfare.

Sanemi’s cock is always a sight. Thick and long; it’s a wonder you’re able to take it every time. His foreskin hugs tight around the flared base of the shining head, just barely holding on as the tip drips his need over the flushed pink skin. The veins of his cock are a pretty purple, not overly prominent beneath the skin but just barely visible because of how pale he is where his skin is not so normally exposed to the sun.

Despite never having seen any other, you’re sure that he’s well above average.

A breeze rolls over you both, fluttering his hair and bringing a coolness to your nipples that has them hardening. You glance to the source, the open shoji doors as wide as they can possibly be. A sudden reminder of how exposed you both are. Your hand falls to your sticky breasts, both coming up to cover your chest, and his eyes are sharp when they catch your modest movement.

“Stop that,” he orders, tossing his clothes aside and reaching out to grasp your wrists, tugging your hands up above your head. You bite your lip, forced to arch into his bedding when he pins you in place.

The warm skin of his chest presses into your breasts as he sinks over you again. His belly comes to touch yours, his cock trapped between you. A tiny sound of pleasure leaves you at the velvety firm heat against your cunt, the curls of hair between your thighs cradling his length. Sanemi rolls his hips, his strong hands massaging your wrists where he holds them loose but firm just beyond the edge of his futon, protecting them from the rougher textures of the tatami below. Your clenched fists loosen for him, his thumbs rubbing into the center of your palms.

The back and forth rubbing of his body against yours, the soft and shaky breaths between deep kisses has you aching. Deeper, rumbling sighs leave the man above you in kind, vibrating through you and accompanying the feeling of his weight on your body, his need for you. You push back, try to feel as much of his skin against yours as you can, your legs working their way up and around his middle once again to lock ankles low on his back, thighs squeezing the strong muscles of his waist.

The kiss breaks in a puff of hot, heavy breaths, and Sanemi groans into the corner of your mouth, nose next to yours, his forehead already a little damp when his bangs mix with your own mussed hair.

His back curls with another drag of his hips, a shiver running through him as he growls against your cheek, and his cock drags down from just below your belly button and through your curls, til it slips against the beginning of your slit. When he pushes forward again, you both jolt in anticipation and excitement when the tip prods against your throbbing clit, nestling against the folds of your pussy, pressure finding the wet drip and heat of your entrance.

Sanemi curses low, and you whine, your teeth nipping at the strong muscles flexing in the strong bicep near your cheek, your hips rocking out of time with his. You can feel the swollen flare of the head of his cock, cooled only by the thick liquid of his precum, caught in the sticky, humid need of your own desire. Sanemi’s grip on your wrists loosens enough for you to wrap your arms around his ribs, dragging your nails into his shoulders, your kisses trailing over his chest and scars in an effort to sink yourself down upon him with a downward shimmy of your hips.

But it’s clumsy, and you whine pitifully when the head of him pushes dangerously between swollen folds, testing the limits of your hole, before slipping up and dragging across your clit. You both gasp, your teeth catching across his nipple, his pec jumping at the sudden pain.

You’re shoved down into the futon and blankets, and you stare up at him while locking your legs tight around his waist to give a little bit of a fight to his strength. Sanemi stares back through messy white bangs and with a big, excited grin, big hands tugging and pulling at your legs until your ankles can’t stay together at all. You whine, shove at his arms, meet him in the middle for a sloppy, aggressive kiss while he easily pushes your hands away to pin you in place again for a moment before he’s grasping your waist and tugging you exactly into the position you knew he would want you in.

When he flips you over onto your belly, you’re left staring out across the manicured garden Ubuyashiki-sama has gifted the quarters of every Hashira. The stunning purple of the wisteria forest beyond the green manor bounds. Sanemi’s hand is strong between your shoulder blades, keeping you pinned while he readjusts himself between your spread knees, and all you can do is watch the breeze beyond the engawa rustle the trees as the sky starts to turn a deep blue of sunset.

Fingers are suddenly exploring between your thighs, two of them you think, dipping between your folds and feeling the silky slick leaking from you. Sanemi groans from behind you, fingers leaving you for a moment and the soft sound of sucking reaching your ears. You can’t help arching your ass up, whimpering and clutching the sheets from where you’re pinned, and wet fingers return to your pussy, smearing more slick down to your throbbing clit, rubbing you gently in little circles that makes your hips swirl. 

“Arch more for me,” he rumbles, voice breathy and deep. You pant and press your cheek further into his bedding, inhaling Sanemi’s scent and pushing your knees into the ground on instinct. The vision of the garden is lost to your glassy eyes when he groans at the sight of your ass pushing up further at his demand, his full palm coming to stroke and cup over your dripping center in reverence.

Your toes and thighs twitch as Sanemi admires you, fingers and hand rubbing and pinching softly at nerves that are stoked hotter and hotter. You begin to squirm, huffing and whimpering, eyes falling shut while he plays with you unencumbered. Even when it begins to sting in the best of ways and your legs attempt to squeeze closed is he unimpeded, his own knees keeping yours spread, his hand firm on your back preventing you from crawling away.

So you’re left clawing at his futon, gasping and moaning for him, cheek hot against the sheet. His fingers are so wet now that they slip a little too much over the firm throb of your clit, and you have to bounce your hips back into the rhythm of his little circles over that nerve to find more pleasure.

“There you go,” he growls, pleased and groaning, his hand gripping the swollen fat of your cunt in appreciation. You hiccup, eyes fluttering, gripping tight to the sheets and bunching them against your face helplessly. It’s hard to care for any shame that may have been present in you before the closer he brings you to the first zenith of your coupling.

When you cum, your hips jump and your moans are muffled into his futon. He continues to rub your clit through it, cooing low and stroking your back with his thumb. Your cunt throbs hot, clenching around nothing, your legs shifting and catching around his knees.

Sanemi knows you so well that he recognizes the changes in your posture as his touches right on your clit become too much. He strokes thick fingers up through your slick lips, and you relax only for a moment; a second to catch your breath before those fingers your slowly, gently, but unerringly pushing through your twitching entrance.

Your body curls tight at the intrusion. A kindness, really, before the breadth that is his cock. His fingers are already slick from your pleasure, and as you relax from your first orgasm, he doesn’t waste any time pushing three fingers up inside you. You groan, brows tenting as the pads of his fingers feel deep inside you, until the knuckles of his fist press against your clit. The gentle touch has your insides clenching around his digits, and he moans softly, slowly withdrawing and sawing back inside you in a steady rhythm.

It’s a different type of pleasure, compounding on what he’s already brought you. A pleasure of knowing he’s touching parts of you no one else has touched, that you’re so safe with him that letting him within your body is a privilege for him. That even his fingers have you feeling full, and you know there is only more to come.

You pant, eyes fluttering open. The hand on your back has slipped up to the back of your neck. His thumb strokes over your warm cheek, feeling the humid gathering of sweat at your hairline along your nape. His arm works slow and steady, careful with his fingers to feel and gently work you open when you both know that he will not be gentle with you after this moment. That neither of you want him to be gentle after this.

Your hips rock back, a shaky sigh escaping as you begin riding his fingers. Sanemi’s breathing heavy, and you jolt when you feel him lean down and lather kisses over your ass cheeks, teeth dragging and nipping, lips sucking stinging kisses across the sensitive skin.

“Fuck, ‘Nemi,” you seethe, hips stalling with another nip. He laughs, and you can feel his lips pull in a grin across the spit he’s leaving on your skin. He squeezes the back of your neck, and thrusts his fingers deep, twisting his hand to feel at another angle within you that has you crying out in a delighted kind of surprise.

Sanemi pulls his fingers out of you, leaving you feeling thoroughly gaping. You catch your breath, curling your shoulders into his hand finally leaving your neck and dragging up your spine. You twist to look over your shoulder at him, as his hands spread your cheeks wider. A sound of shock leaves you, and he raises a brow at you from where he towers behind you.

He uses a hand to guide the head of his cock against you, tapping it against the wet silk of your spread lips. “Don’t get shy on me all of a sudden.”

You pout at him, the flick of his pre-cooled tip shocking against the warm ache of your pussy. You bite your lip and give him a pathetic look, one that has him arching against you, pressing his cock more insistently against your hole.

He holds your gaze as he stretches you even more. The stretch of his fingers feels like a joke as he eases the head of cock into you. It’s been a while, he’s been away on mission after mission; his mission never ends as a Hashira. You hiccup and try to stay relaxed, Sanemi’s gentle shushes make you realize you’re whining again, long and high as you spread wider and wider until he’s suddenly sliding deeper than his fingers could even reach.

You mewl, flailing an arm up and back. Your gasps are uneven as he settles suddenly in your tummy, shocking nerves so deep you forgot they existed. He snatches your hand out of the air, gripping your forearm, and tugging you back in a smooth motion until his hips and balls are squished tight up against the back of your thighs and the pillowy fat of your pussy.

“Breathe,” he growls, staring down at you greedily, taking in the way you pant and moan. It feels good but you’re so full, almost too full, and your cunt grips at him without your control. Sanemi grits his teeth and blows out a hiss of a breath at the feeling, massaging your forearm as if to self-soothe, his head tilting back and pretty eyes struggling to stay open. Your name escapes him in a reverent breath, moaned from his blush pink chest, and even though you’re the one ass up, on your knees, you feel powerful for a moment that makes you ease into the acceptance of his cock deep in your body.

The second that Sanemi feels your cunt give and your back arch a little more as you relax, his hands on you tighten. He withdraws and rolls his hips forward in a smooth and unrelenting thrust. It’s not fast, not now, but it still pushes the breath from your lungs in a strangled sound. There’s a sting of him being too deep, of his balls kissing your aching clit, and then he does it again. He groans, nearly covering the wet, wet sounds of your pussy swallowing his cock with each thrust.

And his thrusts get harder. You cry shaky and uneven, body jolting when Sanemi’s hips slap into yours. His balls smack wet against you, his hand on your hip digging into the fat of your waist to tug you into him harder than before. Your ass bounces off his abs, and the sound is a lewd clap. Your heart races, your ears burning, eyes widening, when the man you love growls and speeds up his rhythm without care. The clapping of skin on skin, the strike of his balls against your clit, is loud and quick and has you sobbing as he punches moan after moan from your chest. Your breasts start to jiggle against his futon, and you try to brace yourself against the floor with your free hand, and all you can do is drop your head back down as Sanemi starts to fuck you just like you knew he would.

“S-Sanemi! Sanemi, oh god!” You sob and arch onto his cock. He’s grunting with each thrust, growling low and mutters something breathy and low under his breath while he keeps his savage pace. Your palm is scratching against the tatami, but fails to find the traction to keep you from getting fucked off your knees. Sanemi doesn’t seem to care except for the sound of dissatisfaction at not being able to fuck his full length into you as he likes, shuffling forward on his knees to follow you with his cock. His pace somehow does not falter.

Sanemi's bedding is a blessing beneath your knees as you're fucked to his pounding pace. It knocks the wind from your lungs, whimpers poorly muffled with your face in his pillow.

His scarred, strong hands grip your waist almost painfully tight. You have no choice but to be rocketed forward by the impact and jerked back onto his cock, his hips clapping forward without shame into the fat of your ass. It's a rhythmic slap that echoes softly out into the private training yard. Anyone nearby with a keen sense of hearing and earthly experiences would no doubt be able to put together exactly what was going on.

It's not as if you or Sanemi are being particularly quiet either.

“O-Oh my god, S-Sanemi!” Your face is pressed into the fabric, a hand reaching back to grip the strong and bulging muscle of his forearm, the other tucked beneath your chest to twist into the futon. Your tits bounce against your arm, and it feels like you can barely catch your breath with how deep his cock hits your insides.

He moans from above you, the sound rasping and thick and making your toes curl where they press against the bottom crease where his flexing glutes meet his thighs, curled up in a weak attempt to tug him deeper when he’s as deep as he can possibly get. “Fuck, say my name again.”

You whine, knees sliding wider, his balls smacking against your clit so nice that it makes you feel fucked stupid, some delighted nerve in your cunt and hips making your pelvis twitch back with every connection. “S-Sanemi! ‘Nemi!”

“Fuck, yes,” he seethes, reaching forward suddenly to pin your head to the futon by the back of your neck, forcing your back to arch more severely than before. You gasp, feeling one of his legs bend and push into a lunge, your knee hooked with his ankle to spread you wider, pushing the angle of his cock deeper into that spot that has your eyes rolling back. A big hand grips one of your ass cheeks, spreading and massaging and suddenly striking down on the jiggling flesh with a loud, stinging crack of his palm.

You gasp and cry, unable to keep gripping onto him in favor of clawing at the scrunched and wet bedding, failing to satisfy the need to squirm and curl in on yourself as the pleasure Sanemi brings you peaks and climbs inside of you until your heart is racing and your pussy is throbbing around his cock.

He’s so thick, and so, so deep, and there’s an anxious warmth growing stronger and stronger around the thickness of him that has you squirming and near-crying. “S-Sanemi, m’gonna cum, I’m gonna cum!” Your voice sounds pathetic, barely able to form your mouth around the words by how fucked dumb you are.

And Sanemi ignores you, only groaning and feeling you over and keeping you pinned in place as he uses you. You cry, slapping hands down in front of you, hitting the wood of the engawa that you’ve been fucked in the direction of simply by the sheer force of Sanemi’s desire for you.

It builds up so quick and sudden and too good inside you, you stiffen against the savageness of Sanemi carving your shared pleasure out of you.

You gush, a mortifyingly wet and messy stream escaping you down your quaking legs and Sanemi’s, no doubt ruining the futon and soaking through to the tatami beneath you. “N-No!” You squeal loud over the droning of the cicada out in the garden.

Sanemi is suddenly hunching over you, clutching his arms around your waist and thrusting his fingers against your hard and straining clit, his mouth right by your ear now while he aggressively rubs and disrupts the stream of your cum, making even more of a mess over your legs as droplets scatter. You sob and beg him to stop despite how good the added stimulation feels, clutching at his wrist and feeling the warm liquid drip over your knuckles.

“Give it to me, give it all to me,” he growls in response, breath hot over your sweating cheek, the fingers of his other hand clutched into your tummy while he fucks you like a dog through the dumbing pleasure he’s brought you. “Fuck. Your mess is all for me, isn’t it? Fuck yes it is.”

You sag into the flexing strength of his grip, tears catching between your cheek and the tatami, letting your knees sag wider as you give in. He’s right, you think stupidly, mumbling your agreement in a stupid fumble of fucked dumb words while he continues to huff and bounce your weakened body beneath his, using his raw strength to hold you up and fuck your near-numb pussy.

“Say it,” he begs, voice tightening as he presses his nose to your cheek, moaning as the impact of his balls against your cunt becomes a drippy, loud, suctioning clap. It’s embarrassing and wonderful and has your curling trembling fingers into Sanemi’s damp hair to keep him close to you. His hot breath rolls down your back, the heat between your back and his chest bringing forth the wet sweat of sex and pleasure that only with Sanemi would you ever crave the feel of.

His teeth catch against your jaw, a low whine that could be masked as a growl vibrating through your spine. “Fucking say it’s all for me.”

You moan, pussy twitching with each overstimulated tap of his balls on your clit. You’re so wet now that there’s barely any friction, but your sensitivity is over the roof. Each running drip of your cream down your thighs and sweat in the crook of your aching knees is tingling in your brain now.

Your nails drag against his scalp, and he shivers and stutters in his pace. Your mouth and your brain are barely connected, the rocking of your body to his desperate beat not making it easier to think.

His lips are parted against the corner of your mouth, a kiss befalling you when your lips part in kind. “All yours,” you say, voice stupid and feminine in the blissful float that he manages to keep you upon in pursuit of his own end. You sigh and tug on his hair as his hips begin to fuck yours down into the ground, your knees finally giving out beneath you. “I’m all yours, ‘Nemi.”

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” he whimpers, panting uneven and needy in your ear. You hum in pleasure, your hips only protected from the floor because his arms are still wrapped beneath you, his rhythm now messy and senseless as he moans and fucks you with abandon. Somehow, you feel his cock harden more, deep moans escaping him as he pins you with his weight and starts to cum hot and deep inside you. He’s leaving nips and bruises against your neck and jaw as he cums, nuzzling into your neck and growling with a number of deep, lasting thrusts into you that have you gasping, your hand in front of you slapping down again with the rough strength behind it. Trying to get his cock as deep as he can inside you.

“Fuck yes you’re mine,” he grits out, face buried into the mess of your hair, arms squeezing around you as he shivers. “Always mine.” He groans again, his cock kicking within you, as if just saying the words pulled another rope of cum from within him.

His words make you feel warm for a whole other reason, your senses coming to you as he starts to lose his now that he’s found his end, and you let yourself bask under his weight and the shared exhaustion. As Sanemi weakens upon you, still hugging you tight around your middle despite how the position grows more uncomfortable by the minute. Neither of you move from it. The threat of someone finding you in such a compromising state with the Wind Hashira doesn’t even spark fear in you enough to move.

In fact, you fall asleep right there beneath him, with his cock still inside you and his cum leaking around the plug of it. His face in your neck, arms around you, legs tangled in an effort to keep yours open through the onslaught. You’re simply too exhausted and too greedy for this, that it’s easy to ignore your aches and pains, and let yourself fall into the orgasmic nap that calls for you in the aftermath. Sanemi’s rumbles of pleasure in your ears and the soft pluck of lips across your shoulders only sends you off faster.

When you come to, the sky is a deep black-purple, only the faintest of sunlight left somewhere in the horizon. You’ve been moved from the edge of the engawa and back into the room proper, one of the extra futons from the closet your new bedding. The no-doubt cum soaked futon from before is crumpled in the corner near the open doors, not too far from where there is a noticeable dark spot in the tatami.

You roll over quickly, hands on your cheeks, and peer at Sanemi lounging under the warm glow of the sconce above, now lit with a gentle flame behind glass.

He's lying beside you on the new futon, naked still, one hand propping his head up. The other is holding a half-eaten mochi ball, his jaw working while he chews slowly. At some point during your rest, he'd gotten up and brought the little table over to where his bedding now rests beside the shoji doors. It rests above your heads, within easy reach of the Hashira. There's only an empty porcelain plate left behind.

He glances up at your movement, and grins. "These are good," he admits, popping the rest into his mouth before reaching out to tug you against his front.

“I know, I tried them earlier, remember?” You tease, wiggling with a suppressed laugh when he pinches your side in good humor until you’re panting and his hand is big and spread across that ticklish spot almost protectively.

Sanemi stares down at you with a soft look on his face, one you’re privileged to see and makes your heart flutter for him. A quiet moment falls over you again as he continues to eat, his hand leaving you noticeable cold when he reaches up to tear the mochi from between his teeth.

He’s a slow eater, one to appreciate food no matter the occasion. An appreciator of these moments between you, too, you’ve noticed, even as the sky grows darker and the flame above struggles to keep the rooms lit, flooding you over in a warm, sleepy glow of romantic amber.

In the silence between you, you tell him, “I’ll make botamochi for you all through spring, and then I’ll make you ohagi in fall. Whenever you want. Got it?” You reach up and poke his nose, laughing softly at your own privilege to be able to treat such a powerful, frightening man as softly as he deserves.

Sanemi pops the last little piece into his mouth, sucking the sugar from his fingers, staring down at you while his lips curl in amusement. You peer back up at him, hand on his chest, head resting on his pillows. “Got it.” He grunts, staring at you with an intensity that has your heart racing.

You trace the edge of the big scar on his chest. "Don't you need to get dressed for the Hashira meeting?"

He shakes his head, still chewing for a moment longer while he pushes the warmed covers down off your body, until he can admire your form with his rough palm unencumbered.

Sanemi swallows the botamochi in his mouth, eyes on the way his fingers dimple the fat of your breast when he squeezes, licking more sugar from his lips. "Nah. I've got another hour or so left to admire my gift from the Master a little more."

His hand glides down the curve of your waist, fingers digging into the fat of your thigh . You make a pleased sound, pressing your face and a kiss into his chest, presenting more of your rear for him to admire.

He suddenly slaps your ass, making you squeal when the clap echoes out over the dark garden, your cheek stinging with a pleasant pain.

“Sanemi!” You chastise, though you both know you don’t really mean it by the way you simply wiggle closer to him, your rear still exposed.

Sanemi grins at you, pulling himself upright with an unfair flex of his abs.

"On your back," Sanemi orders softly, crawling over you when you obey eagerly, thighs falling open for him once again. His cock hangs in the space between you, already half hard and dripping. He leans into your space, nipping at your bottom lip with a rumble of desire vibrating in his chest. "I wanna kiss you while I fuck you this time.”

He almost won’t let you move back enough to speak, to breathe, as he meshes his lips with yours, his tongue pressing inside, warm and thick. Your legs wrap around his middle, his cock trapped against your soft belly, and for a long moment you let him have his way and kiss you dumb. Let yourself enjoy the wet sounds of your kisses and the bask in the soft moans and groans that vibrate between the two of you.

Finally, he lets you gasp a breath when you hold his cheeks, and ask, “Sh-Should I be gone when you get back?”

His teeth are sharp against your cheek in reprimand, surprising you. Sanemi growls low, a hand grasping your thigh at his waist, fingers curling towards the insides to spread your aching and cum-wet lips wide for his cock.

“No,” he hisses, your head feeling warm and foggy when he presses himself inside. You ache and sting from before, but you take it because you want it, want his kisses and his time and his company for as many seconds and minutes and seasons as he has left.

Sanemi’s hand comes up to grip your jaw, slack from feeling him spread you so wide so soon, his fingers pillowed by your cheeks. He pulls your face back towards him, forcing you to look at him as his hips come to rest against yours once more. You’re whining softly, hiccuping and wrapped up around him as he immediately starts a rolling, slow, deep pace with barely any time given for you to adjust.

He stares into your soul, intense and greedy, pale eyes wide and scarred face inches from yours. The emotion in his face is so overwhelming that your heart skips a giddy beat in your chest.

Thick, dark lashes flutter, his breath warm and sweet across your face, his forehead pressing against yours. “No,” he grunts again, shifting to widen his knees, to deepen the press of his cock until you mewl and scratch at him, to wrap the bulging arm he balances on around your head as if he can keep you here forever and all to himself. “You’re mine. You’ll be mine until I’m gone.”

But now, you wait, texting when you both have the chance, and go about to your classes and internships in the meantime. You’re both in your final year of studying, and you would never want to get in the way of his success, and he yours. Even before your relationship with him has opened up sexually, that was an aspect of Chikara that you’ve always appreciated and admired.

Chikara appreciates you for you and your successes and desires, separate from his own, and is always proud of you. He has a certain amount of maturity in that regard that you know is difficult to find in other men in their mid twenties. It was one of the things that attracted you to him in the first place besides the fact that he’s extremely handsome and kind. You’re even happier now that you pushed for an explanation all those nights ago and learned even more about Chikara and just how compatible you really are.

Your friends have definitely noticed the difference in your attitude, also. While you don’t spill all the beans, your best friend is someone you can’t not gush to.

“I thought you were going to break up with him,” Karin says plainly, her eyes focused on rapidly stirring sugar into her latte. When she looks up, though, she gives you a teasing smile. “But I’m glad things are working out.”

The importance of being desired by your partner simply cannot be understated. “Everything else about him is perfect, it was just that one thing,” you say pensively, staring without really seeing out over the street as others walk by. You return her smile after a moment. “I’m glad he decided to trust me.”

Karin nods, leaning into the table with a thoughtful look on her face. You stay silent, waiting for her to formulate the question you can tell is swirling around in her head.

Finally, she glances at you over the rim of her glasses. “I’m really happy for you, don’t get me wrong, but my only thing is that…” She trails off with a little laugh, and then awkwardly says, “But you guys haven’t even had, like, regular sex yet, right? And he’s already choking you? Girl.”

She gives you a strong side eye, and frankly, you don’t have a response.

Needless to say, that was quite a bomb of a sentence to drop upon your euphoric mood.

Regular sex? What even is regular sex?

You walk home wondering if you’re rushing into things for Chikara’s sake only because you’ve been so touch starved for the month you’ve been dating him. It isn’t as if you haven’t had sex with others, and are therefore ignorant of what “regular” sex might look like to Karin. And certainly what Chikara spoke about is a new dynamic for you. But her question now has you wondering if continuing down this path with Chikara, where the roles you adopt would be adhered to every time you want to be intimate, will be the expectation every time.

You’re left wondering if the pressure of that is acceptable, or overwhelming, in the long run.

Thursday evening, when Chikara texts you asking if he can come over, your heart flutters. You want to see him, you want him and what he has to offer you in all ways. And you know that maybe there are more things to talk about with him when you’ve both been sated.

In the meager lighting of your apartment’s hallway, Chikara somehow still manages to look so handsome. You can tell he’s tired even when he smiles down at you, but you can feel the warmth in the way he wraps his arms around you there in your entryway, leaning his tall body down to press his chest to yours, to bury his face in your neck with a long sigh.

This is an intimacy that wasn’t there before with Chikara. Before he opened up more about who he is to you and what he wants, he’d kept you at arms length. Now, you soak in the affection by wrapping your arms around his shoulders and squeezing him tightly, uncaring of the slight chill he’s brought in with him from outside. You’ll warm him up, soon.

It’s a slow separation, and the longer you peer up at him the more you realize he’s really, truly exhausted. The circles under his eyes are more prominent than usual, and there’s simply an air about him that exudes the need for rest and to destress.

He’s staring into your eyes, gently stroking his hands up and down your arms, and says, “I’m really tired.”

You laugh. “I can tell. Go sit down. Let me take your coat.”

It’s all an act of service and care, without any expectations. Nothing to do with those roles and dynamics you’ve talked about with him. At least, that’s how it feels to you, you think, as you watch him toe out of his sneakers and slip his feet into the slippers you have for him. He makes his way to your sofa and collapses upon it, digging his fingers into his eyes while he takes a moment.

You put his coat away and get him a glass of water. Chikara thanks you, but is looking upon you with a softness that has you a little breathless. He reaches for you after putting the cup of water you got him aside, and you let him pull you down into his lap. He’s wrapping you up again into a hug, cheek pressed just above your breast, and you cradle him against you for a long, quiet moment.

“Do you wanna talk about your test?” Your question has him humming, squeezing you around the middle but otherwise unmoved from his resting spot against you.

“It was long. Stressful. Multiple days of tests are really wearing on me these days.” You both laugh softly. The burnout is rough. You’ve both had friends who have dropped out or have become dispassionate towards their chosen majors, though you know Chikara would never consider such a path for himself. He’s one of the most determined and empathetic individuals you’ve ever met, traits he tries to maintain in every part of his life.

“At least it’s over, and you get to be here with me,” you whisper into his hair.

He makes a pleased sound against you. “I missed you a lot,” he breathes against your throat. “It was only a couple of days but it felt too long.” The warmth of his breath has you shivering, and he presses a kiss to the exposed skin of your decolletage.

You can’t help melting into him, eyes falling closed as he trails his kisses up your neck, to your jaw and cheek. You cup his face and sink further against him, readjusting until you’re straddling him and able to press your mouth fully against his.

You make out for long, melting minutes. It’s mindless and warming and Chikara’s big hands roam over you with a reverence that makes you feel like you’re made of gold. He’ll pull away just to look up into your eyes, his hooded and tired but full of desire, and tell you how pretty you are while cupping your cheeks. It has you squirming in his lap, the long week of being without him with the newfound intensity to your relationship making you pliable and easy for him far quicker than you think any other person has ever achieved before.

Soon enough you’re rocking against his lap, your shorts riding up along your butt and growing wet against your aching pussy. You can feel the thickness of his cock in his jeans, and Chikara is nosing at your mouth while you pant and grip at him.

“Were you good for me?” His question is a low, rumbling whisper even though it’s only the two of you here tonight. And it pulls a moan from within you and makes your toes curl. The power he has over you is so magnetic, his truth behind his words, actions, and promises since you talked being so intensely honored that you wonder if “regular” sex would ever be a reality for this relationship. And the pleasure that throbs through you has you finding it hard to care.

You nod, struggling to keep your eyes open to look back at him. Your arms around his shoulders squeeze, nearly pushing his chin into your tits with your arch, your knees in the cushions of the sofa beside his hips spreading wider with encouraging, big palms pushing against the globes of your ass. “I’ve been good for you, Chikara. I promise.”

He holds your gaze and sighs a dreamy, happy sound, fingers digging into the fat of your ass, the quivering muscles of your thighs, his breath shaky across your mouth. Chikara’s chest is rising in deep breaths, and his cock is big, you can feel it. Somehow bigger than before, you think. In a hazy realization, you think the mere fact that you’ve done as he asked and been so good and waited has gotten him this worked up. And you preen under the approving, adoring, drunken look upon his face at your admission.

His hands are sliding up the back of your shirt, feeling at your skin and dipping under the clasp of your bra. “Fuck, I love that. My good girl. My girl who deserves whatever she wants for being good.” His words are loaded with a dripping satisfaction, one that sinks into your bones, intensified by the rolling and grinding against each other. You’re already light headed and you haven’t even cum yet, but you feel like you could cum right now just from humping your cunt across his pants.

You nod, biting your bottom lip, flushed hot and embarrassed but feeling so, so good. “Yeah,” you whisper, an almost petulant edge to the single word that has Chikara’s lips pulling into a handsome grin. A dangerous one, that shouldn’t be so devastating yet somehow has your stomach flip flopping pleasantly where you sit astride him.

His thumbs are stroking the boning of your bra, and he nods with you, gazing into your eyes with a needy, glassy eyed look that makes you feel adored. “That’s right,” he whispers, pressing a kiss against your mouth, your lip slipping free from your teeth.

He kisses you again, and you chase his mouth. Chikara lets you with a widening smile, humming with pleasure as you deepen the kiss with your eagerness. He sighs and lets you take the lead, an arm pushing up the back of your shirt to grip the back of your neck. The action exposes more of your tummy to the air, more of your torso to his other exploring hand, and reminds you of your place with a pleasant rush.

But Chikara doesn’t stop you from kissing him. He melts into it, in fact, groaning with you and letting you swallow his sounds. You cup his warm cheeks and press over him, knees into the couch, and lean yourself upon his broad chest to exert yourself upon him and show him exactly how much you need him.

It’s only when you finally slow yourself down, the empty ache within you and the throbbing of your clit growing to be too much to ignore, that he pulls back and peers up at you with swollen, full lips parted and glistening, and his eyes heavy with satisfaction. A big, warm hand comes up to cup your cheek, his thumb stroking over your tingling lips. “What does my good girl need?”

In the moment after, it’s difficult for you to actually use your words. You’re so dizzy with desire. You whimper against his thumb, lips parting wider. His eyes fall to watch you suck the digit into your mouth, his other hand on the back of your neck flexing tight and dragging fingers down your spine. He drags his thumb from the suction of your mouth and smears spit down your chin, and you can’t help arching for it, feeling his thumb trace over your throat, his hand spanning the width of it with a firm, cupping hold.

“Your cock,” you breathe out, feeling hot under your clothes, your pulse racing against his fingers at your admission. Chikara’s head is resting against the back cushions of your sofa, having slouched down beneath your kisses, his thighs spread wider. He looks like a cat with cream beneath you, gazing up at you in his grip. You whine and wiggle on top of him, pouting down at him while he holds you in place as if to admire you in your current state. “I need your cock, Chikara.”

His pupils are blown out, staring up at you with an awe that has you feeling like you’ve said too much. But then he’s pulling you down by his grip on your throat in such a possessive move it leaves you woozy, to kiss you with a force that has you truly breathless.

“It’s yours,” he groans against your gasping mouth. “You wanna ride it like you didn't get to last week? It’s yours. Want me to fuck you and you just lie back and enjoy it? It’s yours. Need to swallow my cum? It’s fucking yours, however you need it.” He laughs, an almost delirious sound mixed with his own painful need, and you’re whining while you tug at his belt with shaking hands, unable to look down because of how he holds you by your jaw.

All the options he suggests sound too good to be true. You’re hungry for him in so many ways, you can hardly decide what you want. All you know is that you want Chikara to make you feel good, to fill you up how you haven’t been in so, so long.

You feel his other hand start to fumble with the back of your bra, having to release your throat to use both hands while you finally get his belt undone. It’s inconvenient, but neither of you are willing to move far from each other. Your progress on his jeans is interrupted when your tits sag from the release of your bra, and he pushes you back to push your shirt and bra up your arms and over your head.

His hands are immediately on your breasts, massaging and fingers zeroing in on your nipples just how you told him you like it on his couch last week. He pinches and tugs, and then pinches harder, leaning forward to press his face in between the plush soft skin in a shocking dichotomy of sweet, mouthing kisses and pleasurable torture. You wince, your cunt aching, and tug on his hair.

“Chikara,” you whine, long and needy. His cheeks are wet from his own spit when he pulls back, dreamy eyed and blushing, gazing up at you with a sheepishness that makes you giggle.

“Sorry, sorry,” he breathes, shining lips pulling in a bashful smile. He leaves your tender nipples alone with soothing kisses to each before finally reaching down to undo the button on his jeans, shifting beneath you to push them down his thighs.

You watch with rapt attention as his cock finally comes free, and your mouth waters. Chikara is on a streak of surprising you, you realize, as the thick, long length of him bobs up between your stomachs. He’s longer and thicker than you expected, a shining flushed pink head hugged tight by foreskin, with a deceptively slight curve towards his belly that you know is going to feel so intense once he’s inside you. Then again you’re consistently forgetting how tall and strong and intense he actually is because of how sweet he is to you.

And he almost knocks you off his lap when he plucks at the edge of his shirt and pulls it up and away from his already dribbling cock, revealing relaxed abs and the rest of his happy trail, full pecs and dusky nipples. He has a few moles on his tummy, and when his shirt droops halfway back down in his lazy attempt to get it out of the way, you take up the quest of revealing the rest of his body to you.

Chikara lets you, immediately lifting his arms up. When the collar pops free from his jaw, he’s grinning up at you as your hands stroke over his broad shoulders and over his chest and arms, feeling the muscles you’ve barely had a chance to explore.

You lean in to kiss him, your bare tits pressing against the warm skin of his chest. You sigh at the delight of skin on skin contact you’ve been missing, arching against him where he’s slouched low on your sofa. His hands drag down the curve of your spine until his fingers are pushing under the stretchy hem of your shorts, his fingers curling over your ass cheeks and then between them, making you moan into his mouth, face going hot as he tugs your cheeks and pussy further apart in a strong grip.

“S-Stop distracting me,” you plead against his kisses, wiggling your hips back into the clumsy exploration of his fingers over your wet pussy. Your lips parting under his touch reveals just how wet you’ve become, the warmth that awaits him.

He smiles against your mouth, pushing his tongue into your mouth in response, and simply pets and plays in the slick between your thighs, thumbs stroking along the curves of your cheeks and dangerously close to your other hole. It’s ticklish and delightfully shocking, and he feels how you clench from it.

When you finally free yourself from his kiss with a gasp, he’s nearly crosseyed to look at you where you lean heavy against him, moaning sweet and soft as his fingertips prod and feel at your warm and wet center.

“M’not distracting you, promise,” he breathes against your parted lips, looking far too pleased with himself. “I’m just waiting for you to decide how you want your reward.”

His finger suddenly taps over and over again against your pussy. The impacts are slight, but stronger than his touch from before, and makes a loud smacking sound in your ears from just how wet you are. Your ears burn, fingers digging into his shoulders, and your clit throbs from the embarrassment. Chikara watches you closely the whole time, nose to nose where you’re sinking together deeper into your couch, tired brown eyes glittering at making you whine and try to hide from him.

With a sound of determination, you shove yourself upright with his chest. He wheezes, eyes widening, and starts laughing softly. He looks up at you like you’re the most amusing creature he’s ever laid his eyes upon when you pout back down at him. His hands are forced back to just barely being tucked into the elastic of your shorts, and he doesn’t move much beneath you as you catch your breath and push your hair from your warm face and reorient yourself to get what you want.

Chikara takes the hint without prompt when you push up onto your knees, and starts tugging your shorts down your thighs. His eyes zero in on your pussy as it’s revealed to him, his mouth parted to pant when a string of your need stretches between the dark spot you’ve left in the gusset and your swollen lips. He helps you knee your way out of them while staying astride him, and throws them somewhere to the side without taking his eyes off your thighs, your hips. His hands mold to the fat he finds and thumbs dig up towards your mound until they’re buried in the inner creases, pressing into the softness of your outer labia and spreading your lips.

You hiccup, hands on his shoulders, squirming under his examination of your shining clit and folds. His unflinching desire to see every part of you is still startling. He never seems embarrassed himself, almost reveling in your vulnerability before him like he’s won some kind of prize for having the privilege to simply look upon your nakedness like this.

He starts to stroke a thumb back and forth over your clit, slow and steady in a way that has your eyes and hips rolling back, but you’re too impatient right now. You have your own prize for being good that you want to collect, and Chikara’s facade finally cracks when the sound of you spitting into your palm has him quickly focusing upwards, and then downwards to follow your hand when you wrap it around the warm silky firmness of his cock.

“Oh fuck,” he gasps, arching and squeezing at your hips, brows furrowing while he watches you slowly explore the length of him. He groans, jaw clenching when you stroke downwards, his stretched foreskin making the movement so much easier when you pull back towards the head of his cock–pink and shining and perfectly curved as far as you’re concerned.

And when you angle him towards your cunt, curling one leg up to balance on a foot to open yourself wider, Chikara does nothing but mutter a low fuck yes under his breath while he watches you rub and smear his glans against your clit and through your swollen folds that he keeps parted for you with his fingers, using your shaky hand to help spread your slick over his length while slowly, nervously pressing him against your entrance.

His hands are tight on your waist as you slowly drop down upon him. You make a small sound of distress–not because you’re having second thoughts, but because he feels so much bigger than you thought and while excited, your eagerness outweighed his and your attempts to prepare yourself for him.

He’s thick, and it takes a moment for you to spread for him. And Chikara is ever patient, massaging at your flank and pressing kisses against your dropped jaw, whispering the sweetest filth into your ear.

“You already feel so good,” he moans, voice ragged and rasping, his chest heaving under your other hand as the flared head of his cock eases past the first tight ring of needy muscles that is your pussy. Once you don’t feel those glans in your palm anymore, you bring your wet hand up from between you to collapse against him. He hugs you tight, lips vibrating against your shoulder and neck as you let your knees give out and simply swirl and roll your hips as he slowly sinks deeper and deeper inside you.

Chikara is still muttering against your skin, big warm hands stroking and feeling all up and down your back. “Needed me as much as I needed you, didn’t you? M’sorry it took so long, I’m sorry you had to wait, but doesn’t it feel so much better this way?”

And it really does, you think, brain hazier the deeper he pushes up inside you and against all your needy nerves. Your hips come to rest as close to his as you can get, once more fully astride his thighs. He's big, and it’s intense to have someone so big inside you after so long, but you’re so worked up that he slid in so much easier than you expected him to. The head of his cock presses deep into your belly, nudging against something already that was a rare find for others who’ve had the pleasure of being inside you. That alone has you already faint and hot, clutching onto Chikara’s strong shoulders for dear life, and you haven’t even started moving yet.

He doesn’t seem to mind that, either. “God, you feel perfect,” he breathes against your ear, shifting beneath you but not thrusting. It still makes his cock flex within you, both of you making little sounds of pleasure, your toes curling against his knees.

You rest your head on his shoulder and pant, realizing that in the time since you’ve begun to make out on the couch to now, that Chikara has slowly slid sideways until he’s flat across the cushions of your small couch. All of your weight is upon him, and he hugs you tight against him to prevent you from pulling away to ride him properly.

You make a tiny sound in his ear, your lips parted against the silky soft skin of his earlobe, and he hums back in question, his hips giving an experimental back and forth. “Ch-Chikara,” you whine, gripping at his sides where your arms are squished against his body, not knowing what you want to say.

“Yeah?” His voice is thick and needy, lowered in a growl like you’ve never heard before. It makes your head spin as his hips start to rut his cock slowly and gently up into your pussy. “You need it?” His warm breath across your ear forces a full-bodied shiver from you.

“Uh-huh,” you whimper, eyes fallen shut and forehead damp against his shoulder. A shaky sound escapes you when he bends a knee behind yours to press a foot into your cushions for more control. And suddenly, with the next slow out and then in of his cock, he’s so much deeper. You moan long and tortured, mouth unable to close as he strokes swollen and days-primed nerves all inside you.

Chikara gasps into your hair, a hand gripping tight at one of your ass cheeks to push you further onto his cock. His other hand is cupped behind your neck, gripping broad and strong at the nape and holding you in place. “Oh fuck me,” he grits out, voice wobbling with his own pleasure, and kicking up the pace.

With the press of his hand, you roll into it and begin bouncing your ass back against his thighs. Feeling and hearing the clap of his skin against the back of your ass. Feeling the way his cock carves in and out of you with each motion, stimulating and burning and aching. And it all builds quickly. The slow, firm sways become desperate rutting motions from you both, your shared moans filling the quiet living room, and the tempo of smacking skin on skin growing faster.

Your moans become shrill, the throbbing heat that Chikara strikes over and over again spreading from between your thighs to the rest of your body and into your brain. He’s groaning, too, unabashed and in your ear while he holds you tight and kisses at whatever part of you his mouth can reach.

“Fuck me, m’sorry I waited,” he whines, arms tight around your middle and his hips thrusting up over and over again. “M’sorry I made you wait, sweetheart.” You can just barely open your eyes to see his blushing face, his pained expression of pleasure from being inside of you finally, and he’s staring at your face. When your eyes catch he leans in to kiss you.

It’s sloppy and desperate and it makes your head spin, but it’s hard to care when you’re both moaning into each others mouths while you bounce on his cock. You grasp at his dark hair, tugging tight and keeping his mouth glued to yours as best as you can. That curve he has to his cock is doing numbers on your pussy, like his cock was made to be inside you and pound perfectly against all those swollen and needy nerves you have that have been crying out for attention for so, so long.

But you need more. You huff and whine and throw your hips back for a harder fuck, but it isn’t quite getting you there. You open your mouth, try to say something over your moans, and already find Chikara looking up at you with an understanding in his eyes.

“I’ve got you,” he breathes, twisting you to the side til you’re halfway between him and the back of the couch. He kisses you deeply, keeping your thighs open with a knee under your leg, and pushing a freed hand down between your bodies to find your clit.

You jolt, heart racing, clutching onto him as you go breathless when he starts to rub those nerves in time with the way his cock fucks into you. Still heavy and long strokes, because he has that much cock to give. He’s taken your control from you easily, and from the way he remembers just how you need to be touched while he does so makes you feel dizzy, long moans escaping you with every breath you take.

You cling to him and hold on for the ride. At some point you closed your eyes in rapture, and truly there is no need to open them. It all feels so much better like this, you think, as he spreads messy kisses down your neck and fucks his cock into you with swaying hips, keeping you pinned against the back of the couch. It’s so much better letting go of all the control you had, and leaving it in Chikara’s strong, capable hands, just as he likes it. The drag and punch of pleasure across your clit and deep into your belly with every stroke of his cock has you squirming against his chest, arms wrapped tight around his neck.

You’re so wet, and Chikara muffling his moans with kisses along your throat doesn’t help. The way his cock is so slick because of you and how he knows you. It leaves you limp and whimpering and quaking quite suddenly into your orgasm.

“Oh,” you mewl, one arm limp around his neck, the other draped across your face. “O-Oh, oh fuck, Chikara! Oh!”

A big hand strokes down your hip, squeezes into the fat of your trembling thigh, and tugs your squirming hips back into his. “Fuck, you’re cumming,” he moans into your mouth, breathing in your pants, plucking kisses from your parted lips. “Yes, keep cumming. Keep cumming on my cock, m’gonna cum, too.”

The men you’ve fucked before Chikara would speed up, ruin your orgasm, take for themselves only because they think you’re done. But Chikara keeps his pace with such impassioned patience that it only winds you tighter as your insides squeeze and hug and ache upon him, heat rushing from your toes all the way up to your tits that are being sucked upon with groaning reverence by the man cradling your body against his. And all it does is serve to pull a hiccuping sob of overstimulation from you as your pelvic floor bears down, and releases with white hot pleasure, so hot it hurts.

“Yes,” he praises, sounding so far away as his pace stutters, his hand gripping your ass as your knee curls up along his side, opening you wider. His fingers grip into the slick wet cleft of your cheeks, pressing electric across your asshole, and tugs your useless hips onto his cock with loud, wet smacks. “Yes, I’m cumming for you, sweetheart, fuck yes, y-you–”

Chikara quivers against you, his hips finally stilling inside you. His lips mesh across your cheek, and you somehow find it in you to tighten your arm around him and guide him to your lips. You groan with each other, swollen lips vibrating so pleasantly that you didn’t know kissing could feel this good.

As hot as you are on the inside from orgasming as hard as you did, you can still feel the heat of Chikara’s cum filling you up. His cock thickens and twitches against already tender nerves. Your head spins as you hang onto your lover for dear life, breathing his breaths and feeling every inch of him pressed to every inch of you.

You kiss for a long while, until you both simply lie there and bask in each other’s exhausted bliss. For how long, you couldn’t say, but the pleasant buzz in your brain and cunt, the looseness from your fingers to your toes is all too good not to enjoy as long as possible.

You’re vaguely roused when Chikara presses tender kisses to your cheek, his arms tightening gently around you to press you close once again.

“Do you feel better?” You breathe against his neck, eyes pleasantly heavy and closed while you bask in the afterglow.

Chikara’s chest expands into yours with a deep breath, and when he sighs it out, a long hum of relaxation rumbles through your whole body. You can’t help the way your pussy flutters on his cock in response, and you feel him grin against your forehead, arms squeezing around you.

“I feel great,” he purrs, cock throbbing in response. “M’glad I came over.”

“Me, too,” you whisper, stroking fingers across his back in a slow and tender motion.

Silence falls between you, warm and comfortable, for a long while. You think he almost dozes off from the way his breathing gets a little more shallow against your hairline.

You don’t know what possesses you to say it. Maybe because it’s been on your mind all day? “Karin said we should have normal sex first before doing the stuff you suggested.”

“What?” Chikara sounds sleepy, but also deeply bemused by your comment.

You just shrug, feeling awkward for bringing it up at all.

“Normal sex?” He laughs a little against your hairline, stroking over your back gently. “I guess.” Chikara kisses your forehead and shifts, pulling away only enough to be able to look you in the eye.

He gives you an earnest look, peering over your face with a thoughtful expression. You try not to stare at the thick bulge of his bicep where he’s curled his other arm under his head, knowing this is a serious conversation. “Whatever we do is between us. We’ll have sex however and whenever we both feel like it, and it’s always flexible.” He shrugs his shoulder, your head bobbing with the movement. “Does that sound fair to you?”

You nod, curling closer to him. His arm tightens around you. “Of course. We respect each other.”

Chikara smiles, those deep brown eyes full of satisfaction and relaxation. “Yeah, we do. I respect you a lot. I’ll do whatever you want to do, and if you don’t want to do something, we won’t. I hope you know that.”

You nod, looking back at him almost nose to nose. It’s intense, gazing at each other so closely. Chikara’s eyes are such a deep brown they’re almost black, and so soft and warm you think he’ll melt you if he looks upon you any longer.

“Sorry I talked to her about our sex life,” you whisper.

He shrugs. “It doesn’t bother me. Is it weird that I kind of like that she thinks I’m weird?” Chikara has a slow, boyish grin growing on his face.

You scoff. “Not weird, but maybe a pervert.”

He laughs softly, a little harder than before, causing you to bounce with the jump of his chest. “Yeah, maybe a weird pervert,” he says with a tone that sounds much too pleased for a man so loving and kind.

You lean in for a kiss, one he eagerly returns, though it’s quickly interrupted by the feeling of his cock slipping out of your body. He grunts, and you start to giggle, enjoying his cheeks dusting pink again and how he hides his bashful grin into his flexed bicep.

“You wanna take a bath with me?” You whisper against his ear. Chikara shivers, groans, and nods before turning to look at you again. There’s an exhilarating mixture of exhaustion and need in his face, and you don’t think you’ve ever felt sexier as you push yourself up in all your nude glory, and see the expression of desire and awe on his face as you stand before him and stretch, his cum dripping down your thighs.

You reach your hands out to him and he takes them in his own. He sits up with an easy and delicious flex of his abs, his tall frame pulled up with your help to tower over you, pressing closely for skin to skin once again.

As you walk backwards down the hallway, his big hands palming all over you, you hum in thought. “I’m not sure you’ll fit in the tub with me, now that I’m looking at you.”

Chikara laughs, following you blindly into the wet room while you press a few buttons to start warming the water and filling the tub. He peers inside, arm hooking around your waist. “We’ll make it work.”

His ears are burning and his heart is racing when you’re there to pick him up with Makki and Mattsun. Your grin is wide and pretty, and you look prettier than any facetime could have done justice. When he drops his duffel bag to easily and eagerly catch you when you leap upon him for a hug, he blatantly ignores the smirks and waggling brows from the two taller men behind you.

“Hajime!” You land a big kiss on his cheek, giggling wildly in his arms, his own cheeks hurting from grinning. “Welcome home!”

He sets you down gently, maybe showing off the strength he’s cultivated abroad, and his eyes have trouble leaving yours, have trouble not taking in the way you glance down his arms and chest, your hands sliding over the soft shirt that stretches over his pecs. He eagerly gives you a once over as well, gulping at the way your clothes flatter your figure, how you wear them confidently. Stupidly, his hands squeeze appreciatively at your waist.

Your eyes meet his once more and your hands jump away from him, pulled back to link together behind your back, your bottom lip captured by your teeth. He quickly does the same, hands flexing with the tingles running up his arms.

He clears his throat, scratching through his hair, suddenly feeling too hot. “I-I’m home.”

“Alright, alright, leave some love for us.” Makki bumps you out of the way to sling an arm around Iwaizumi’s broad shoulders, trying to put him in a playful headlock. “How was your flight, bud? Could you even fit in your seat with how huge you’ve gotten? Damn, dude, what have you been eating out in Cali?”

His first night home is spent with his family, the next out with his friends at their favorite izakaya. It feels nice to be squeezed back into the tiny table, surrounded by his native language and cigarette smoke and laughter. It’s just the three of them at the moment, Makki and Mattsun grilling him on anything from his internship opportunity he got with the Winter Olympics team for America to some of his more salacious activities while in California.

As usual, he’s more tight-lipped about the latter, even after two beers.

“C’mon,” Mattsun drawls, slapping him lightly on the shoulder and grinning lazily. “She’s not around to hear you talk about all the pussy you got in Cali.”

Iwaizumi’s face flushes pink all the way to his ears. “Shut up.”

Makki chortles across the table. “It’s not like she hasn’t been busy herself. She was seeing some dude up until about a month ago.”

Hajime frowns down at his beer mug. He knew you’d been dating around, you just never wanted to talk about it with him. He wonders how serious it got. He feels a little bit of shame for being happy it ended before he got back.

He’s pulled from his pensive thoughts with Matsukawa rising with a stretch. “Gonna go smoke. I’ll be right back.” He claps Iwa on the shoulder and stands, shuffling out of the small bar and leaving him with Hanamaki.

The strawberry blonde leans forward almost conspiratorially, and Iwaizumi gets a bad feeling in his gut. Thin brows rise at him, and Makki smirks. “So when are you gonna make the move, man?”

Hajime groans, leaning away from his friend, who laughs at him. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Makki scoffs. “Really? How long are you gonna pretend you’re not in love with her? ‘Til you leave the country again?”

Hajime’s heart skips a beat, his body almost curling in on itself with the L-bomb dropped so casually from his friend. The wide-eyed glance from him must say it all, because Makki’s face slackens, brows tenting in realization.

Before whatever dreaded question could escape Makki’s mouth, his eyes flick up over Hajime’s shoulders, and his lips press into a thoughtful purse just as a small hand lands on the ace’s strong shoulder. Much softer, more appreciative than Matsukawa’s had been.

“Sorry I’m late!” You sit yourself down in Mattsun’s empty seat, pulling your feet from your shoes and scooting closer to Hajime’s side, legs curled pretty beneath you. He blinks down at the exceeding amount of leg you’re showing and how the skirt of your clinging dress digs into your thighs, up along your body, to the dip of it into your cleavage.

“Mattsun was sitting there,” Makki tells you with only amusement in his tone.

You shrug at your friend, looking pretty and pouty. “Well now I am. And I’m drinking his beer.” You pull the big mug towards you, Makki laughing. Your eyes flit towards Iwaizumi, who realizes he’s been staring at you like an oaf, his cheeks burning pink. “Besides, it’s my turn to cuddle with Hajime.”

He almost chokes when you lean in close, grinning up at him and curling your arm around his bicep, your tits pressed up against the muscle. Hajime isn’t a fool, he’s experienced girls all over him before just like this, they just weren’t //you.//

Not that closeness between you and him hadn’t been a thing before he left for California. In fact, the two of you indulged in physical intimacy often while alone. It just never became anything more than cuddling or comforting. Hajime had been too afraid to make a move, to ruin his friendship with you, and you… He couldn’t say. Maybe you just didn’t see him that way?

He quickly takes a deep pull of his beer at the thought, turning his gaze upwards towards the ceiling. He keeps his eyes away when Matsukawa comes back and gives you a hug, the taller man griping playfully about you stealing his seat and drink before flagging down a waitress to bring the table more sake and beer.

“Hajime…” His body burns with the sweet, soft, playful call of his name inches from his ear. He takes a deep breath as his body coils in delight, the beer hitting him a little harder now, turning to give you his attention once more. You’re leaning into him, chin in hand, smiling up at him. “It’s good to have you home.”

He can’t help the bashful grin that comes to his face, ears feeling hot when you laugh. “I guess it’s good to be back,” he replies gruffly, failing to hide his pleased smile when you poke in just the right place to make him flinch, still ticklish as hell.

“C’mon, stop pretending to ignore me.” Your whine and pout is unfair, making his knees feel weak even though he’s sitting. “Just admit you missed me more than anything and anyone.” The whimsical, dramatic edge to your tone makes him laugh, even though you don’t even know how true your declaration is.

“Yeah, yeah,” he grouches, nudging you back with a grin. You hug his arm against your body, and the sting of hyper-awareness has his clothes feeling scratchy against his skin, face feeling warm when you look up at him expectantly despite the humor of the situation.

Hajime softens, licks his lips. After clearing his throat, he takes a glance at Makki and Mattsun, who are engrossed in something on the latter’s phone, and he leans in closer to you. Closer than he’s been in a while. Close enough to feel your breath across his lips, to kiss you if he wanted to.

“I did.” He pauses abruptly, looking into your pretty eyes, chewing on his bottom lip bashfully. “M-Miss you. The most, I mean…” He hates how he trips over his words, the back of his neck sweltering, and he wipes the sweat away nervously with his cool, free hand.

Your mouth pops open, your hands squeezing at his bicep. You smile so pretty that he thinks he’s gonna melt right in his seat. You laugh, leaning your forehead against his shoulder, hiding your face in the sleeve of his shirt, and his cheeks hurt from grinning, his chest hurts from how fast his heart is racing for you and the way you squeeze at his arm.

The night is like any other night before he left for California, and the fact he seamlessly fits right back in brings him an immense amount of comfort.

But there’s something else in the air that tastes electric. Each touch between you and him is deliberate and testing. Four drinks in and Hajime is angling his whole body towards you, opening himself up for your tentative hands, half-listening to the jokes and updates on his friends’ lives while you explore over his thigh after finishing off Issei’s beer and two cups of sake. He almost doesn’t want to believe the way your pulse flutters wildly under his fingers when he lets them greedily, just for a second, stroke over and around your wrist, measuring just how easy it would be to wrap his hand around it entirely.

It ramps up faster than he expects. Suddenly his head is swimming and he can’t stop grinning, cheeks hot while he laughs at whatever dumb shit Makki just said. You’ve found yourself tucked under his arm, cuddled in close enough that his nose can bury into your hair, giggling and weak against him, too. He’s thankful that even though everyone is drunk, Makki and Mattsun know to keep their mouths shut of any potential suggestive comments, though not enough to throw drunken, knowing looks at Hajime and you.

“Hajime,” you whine upon exiting out onto the street, your hands seemingly glued to his stomach or arm. Not that he’s complaining. You pout up at him, eyes heavy and speech a little slurred. “Take me home.”

He scoffs at you while fussing with his bomber jacket, glowering down at you playfully if only to hide how his ears are burning. “Of course.” As if he’d let you walk home alone.

His shoulder gets bumped, pushing him into you, pushing you backwards. His hands land on your waist as he shuffles out of Makki’s way, whose griping about his early shift tomorrow.

“Do it,” Mattsun slurs when everyone is out of the bar, swaying a little when he leans in to try and be conspiratorial.

Hajime rolls his eyes, you and him parting ways from Makki and Mattsun for the night. You lean on him the whole time, catching up in a quieter, though no more sober way than when you’d both been actively drinking. He can’t remember the last time his face hurt so much from smiling, or when he last felt woozy from laughing, his heart racing every time you cast him the prettiest grin or laugh at his dumb jokes.

The train isn’t very populated at this time of night, but you act like it’s packed. Pressing close and keeping your voice low while you giggle through your drunkenness, swaying with the motions of the train, holding tight to the bar in the middle of the car. A few times Hajime has to press his hand to your back to keep you from falling, grinning with you, happy to be so close, happy to let you hold onto his arm and catch up with you, just the two of you.

“What happened with that--that guy?” He asks quietly, leaning his shoulder into the bar, towering over you, though you don’t seem to mind.

You roll your eyes, avoiding his gaze. “He just wasn’t for me.” You shoot him a glance from the corner of your eye, lips pursed, pretty lined eyes looking him up and down.

Hajime gulps down the rock in his throat. “Yeah?” He’s thankful his voice doesn’t break.

“Yeah. It was just a casual thing anyway,” you finish breezily, giving him an expectant look. He nods, a strange mixture of jealousy and relief twisting in his stomach.

He holds your eye. “Didn’t think you’d be one for casual things.”

Something waivers in your gaze, but you shrug a shoulder. “How would you know what kinds of things I’m into, Hajime?”

There’s a simmering heat in his belly. He bites his lip, taking his turn to break eye contact as he tries to reel the conversation away from dangerous territory while you’re both inebriated. “I--I mean. I don’t, I guess.”

You hum thoughtfully, and when he lets himself look at you again, there’s a–dare he say–hopeful curl to your lips, eyes sparkling up at him in the flickering light of the train car.

If you were going to say anything to that, the chime and automated announcement of arrival to your station rings out. The train slows to a stop, your hand gripping his to lead him onto the platform, assuring him your apartment isn’t terribly far away from the station itself

“You should come upstairs with me,” you insist, hands squeezing his forearm when you’re standing outside your building.

His heart skips a beat. He’s heard that line before, but he knows you probably don’t mean it like that, and tamps down the hope that you could.

“Sure.” He’s happy to let you manhandle him how you want, nodding along as you complain a little about your current location and how you hope to move soon.

Standing behind you, very aware of how much taller he is than you while you fumble with your keys, he can’t help grinning when you struggle to open your door, the cute little sounds of frustration escaping you.

“Need help?” He asks sarcastically.

“Shut up,” you whine, turning to pout at him over your shoulder. He gives you a smirk, and you pause in your motion of using your key to scratch the bolt instead of unlocking it. Remarkably, it slips into place with a zipping sound while you’re staring at him, eyes glittering in the flickering lights of the apartment walkway.

You turn to face him, his brow rising when you lean heavily against the door, your proximity becoming suddenly very apparent to him. He swallows, watching you curiously as you play with your fingers and arch your hips out in a lazy sway. It’s physically difficult not to glance down your body, and he loses the fight with a quick little peek he hopes goes unnoticed.

You blink up at him, a demure look on your face. “You--You fucked around a lot in California, right?” Hajime’s blood runs cold at your question. Before he can formulate a response, you unnecessarily clarify yourself. “With girls?”

“I--”

“Tooru told me,” you inform him, shooting him a heavy-lidded look, pretty lips pulled into a cute pout that pulls at his heart.

“Fucking...Shittykawa!” The old epithet escapes him with a familiar anger he hasn’t expressed in a while, that only a certain brunette can pull out of him, and it sends you into a giggle fit that leaves him embarrassed.

“And Mattsun and Makki. Our friends are very chatty about the things you never shared with me.” You laugh more when he groans, rubbing his hand over his face.

“The reason I ask,” you continue once you’ve composed yourself, leaning against your door and patting at his arm, gripping his hand, letting him weave his fingers through yours. You blink up at him, still doe-eyed and still arched languid. He can’t help the second glance down towards your chest, your hips, the way your little dress clings to you.

“Um…” You trail off bashfully, hand covering your face, the other still clinging to his. Your fingers wrap around two of his, and he’s hyper-aware of how big his hand is in yours.

“What?” He encourages softly, shoulder bumping into the edge of your doorway, towering over you and leaning in close to your space.

You peek up at him between your fingers, throat bobbing in a swallow. Hajime could lean down and kiss you right now, and the drunken part of him tells him you wouldn’t mind. But the controlled, sober Hajime reminds him that’s not okay. That’s inappropriate. You’re his friend--

“Do you wanna show me...how?”

“Huh?” His drunken brain catches up with him slowly, his heart racing fire through his veins as realization dawns on him.

You laugh awkwardly at the end of your question, wincing and stuttering. “Wait, that was bad. B-By how, I mean...I’ve never had sex. I know maybe what I said early made you think I had but, um, and.” You swallow, holding his wide eyes imploringly. “I want to. With you.” You suck in a shaky breath, eyes hopeful and fluttering and glossy from your alcohol intake. “I trust you and I just--I wanna know.” You tug at his hand, putting it on your waist for him, and he stares dumbly down at the intimate contact.

Hajime could groan right there at the way you lean forward brazenly, pawing at his chest, using his shirt to pull your body against his and slip your hands under his jacket. His hands float around your waist, frozen with his utmost desire to grab you and feel you and squeeze you, and to be a good friend.

“Wait, y-you’re...you’ve been drinking.” His tongue feels dry in his mouth, tasting of disbelief. “Don’t--”

“No,” you whine, nosing at his chin, pouting up at him. “Hajime, m’tired of waiting, I’m so fucking needy and no one wants me a-and I trust you and I love you--” Suddenly you’re sniffling and burying your face in his shirt, the emotions of this weird, drunken confession nosediving quickly into sad but familiar territory.

Hajime hugs you tightly, quickly reassuring you that your self-degrading words aren’t true. He presses his nose into your hair and shushes you softly while you cry, and his heart breaks. His head spins and he squeezes you hard, fumbling with the keys dangling in your lock to open your apartment and lead you inside.

There’s a clatter of shoes and more muffled sniffles and gentle shushes. Hajime lifts you up into his arms, walking blind into your tiny apartment to deposit you in your bed.

“Let me get you some water, okay?” He tells you quietly when you refuse to unwrap your arms from around him. It takes you a moment, but soon you slide them away, turning your head away from him after only a quick second of watery eye contact.

He doesn’t leave you alone for long, bringing two water glasses with him back to your room. 

“I-I’m sorry I asked, that was so inappropriate--” You blubber a little, covering your twisted face with your hands.

“Don’t apologize,” he insists, climbing into your bed with you without a second thought, spooning up against you with a furious intent to comfort you. You hiccup again, a watery laugh escaping you.

“It was pathetic. And d-desperate. You only just got back, and I put you in a weird spot.” Your sniffle is thick and wet.

He’s shaking his head before you even finish. “It isn’t. And you didn’t.” No, his cock is so hard in his jeans and he feels warm under his clothes, mouth tingling with the desire to kiss you, but he keeps himself in check, stripping himself of his jacket to lie next to you on your bed.

It takes some coaxing, but soon you’re curling up against him, sniffling into his shoulder while he rubs your back slowly.

“Missed you so much,” you murmur against his neck, voice tiny and delicate after crying. “M’glad you’re home.”

It’s so much easier to be honest while in your arms, even though he’d already told you earlier. “I missed you,” he whispers back, stroking your back with the full width of his hand. Up and down the curve of your spine, keeping you pressed close to his chest where you seem more than happy to stay. “I’m glad I’m home, too.” Home with you.

And in the haze of inebriation and confusing emotions, he gives in to his desires when you blink up at him. Wide, glittering, teary eyes full of mirrored need, your hand stroking up his cheek. He watches as your eyes flick to his mouth, and he doesn’t fight when your thumb brushes his bottom lip. He opens his mouth for you without second thought, tongue touching the pad of your finger, and in a blink, you’re closer than ever, wrapped in his arms, shaky breaths mingling, a tentative brush of lips.

Your thumb strokes down over his chin, and a sweetest sound escapes you--a mix of a breathless plea and his name--when your tongue and bottom lip connect with his in a shockingly erotic moment that hits him like a truck, and quite suddenly you’re kissing each other with drunken desperation. It’s overwhelming and messy and full of tongue and moans, and your thigh is curling over his stomach and his hand is up your skirt, clutching at you–

That’s the last thing he remembers before he wakes up.

You passed out like that, together and fully clothed; entangled and drunk and all mixed up in heavy emotions. It feels like only a blink in time before a pounding headache rouses Hajime, his arm sore from holding you against him all night, though he’d do it all over again.

He lies there for a long time as the sounds of the city and the light grows louder, thinking back on the fuzzy recollection of your request and confession and kiss, his heart racing under your ear.

He decides you can’t have been serious, that the kiss and confession was just an overflow of emotions. That you hopefully won’t remember any of it, just like he only has bits and pieces. That he’ll pretend you never asked. That he’ll let it echo in his head for eternity because there’s no way, after so long and just a night of drinking and catching up that you could--

When you shift awake with a stretch against him and a small squeak, Hajime watches you blearily. You seem just as hungover as him, voice scratchy and eyes swollen. But you look deliciously alluring in your scrunched up dress--panties all on display with the hem of your dress around your hips, makeup smudged eyes blinking sleepily and a little swollen.

 It doesn’t take long for you to push yourself up, groaning and shoving the air from his lungs when you roll over his stomach, elbowing him in the gut.

“Fuck!” He snarls, though you just laugh and stumble across your room.

“I feel like ass. I’m gonna take a shower.” You announce, forehead thumping against one of your closet doors when you open the other to dig through for more comfortable clothing.

A strange mixture of disappointment and relief settles heavy in his chest while he stares at the ceiling listening to you mumble curses about your head on the other side of the room.

With a sigh, Hajime rises with a similar groan like yours. “Let me pee first.”

–

He contemplates buying take out while he waits for you to be done in the shower. Should he just leave with a text? That seems rude, and he’s enjoying himself too much with you. Would it be too much to make the both of you breakfast?

He decides on the latter, scavenging milk and cereal, boiling hot water for tea. When you emerge in a big shirt he knows once belonged to him, he has to force himself not to stare, giving you only a brief, greedy glance before bumping your bowl of dry cereal in your direction across the tiny island.

“Eat. There’s tea if you want it.” He passes the milk, leaning against the counter to eat while you pour the milk into your bowl. “Can I shower, too?”

You nod into your first spoonful. “I’ve got some of your old clothes around here.” You don’t need to remind him, seeing as you’re wearing some of his old clothes right now, the faded turquoise of one of his many Seijoh gym shirts clearly well worn from the last time he saw it--snagged long ago from his closet by your own hands while he was deciding what to take to California.

You’re suddenly giving him an up and down from under your lashes, your second spoonful slowing before you can raise it all the way to your mouth.

Hajime prompts you to speak with an arched brow.

You clear your throat. “Um, I’m not sure if they’ll fit.” You laugh a little when he gives you a glare. “You’ve bulked up since going to California. You look really good, is what I mean.”

Hajime can feel his ears burning, taking a big bite of cereal and glancing out towards the window of your living room behind you. He tries to think of some kind of response. He wants to tell you that you look good, too, because you do, but a poorly timed spoonful of food has him chewing and awkwardly unresponsive to your compliment.

You break the silence with another alarmingly blasé statement. “I meant what I said last night.”

He chokes on his mouthful of cereal, and he hates the way you grin at him from across the table. Wiping desperately at his chin, now sticky from milk, he gives you another small glare.

“God, you’re killing me,” he coughs, standing upright and rubbing at his stinging chest.

You twist your lips up, brow rising. “Were you this awkward with your romantic endeavors in Cali?”

He doesn’t answer you. There were no romantic endeavors. Or at least, none that became anything serious. You were always in the back of his mind, a topic of conversation, enough so for them to realize exactly with whom his devotions lie.

He gives you a double take, eyes wide and cheeks red. “R-Romantic?”

“God, Hajime, you’re killing me,” you groan sarcastically, tossing your head back in mock annoyance where you sit. He scoffs, but you keep talking. “No wonder Makki and Mattsun were so sure you were being a slut.”

“What the fuck does that mean?”

You grin at the glare he’s giving you. “That you’re too awkward to flirt, but too smart to not know you’re good looking by now. I bet you got a lot of attention out there.”

His blush has definitely spread to his cheeks now, and your giggles at his expense are very cute, but he’s determined to fluster you back.

“So you think I’m good looking,” he fires back desperately, staring at you. Thinking about that kiss you shared with him last night.

Your shoulders come up to your ears, your bashfulness clear. You wiggle in your seat, and it’s hard not to notice the way your tits shift against the old shirt, nipples hard and catching his eye.

“I always have,” you whisper, swirling your spoon in your bowl, eyes lowered to watch.

Have you maybe always loved me, too? He wants to ask, but he’s not sure if you remember, if it wasn’t just the alcohol talking, if it was all a dream. And he feels just as nervous as he’d always been before he went to California.

He feels like he’s been shot in the heart. He takes a deep breath, hot under his grimy clothes from last night, and blows out a deep breath.

He almost immediately regrets making any sound. He watches you sit up, a look on your face he hates, your head turning away from him instead of looking at him. “Go take a shower. I left some of your old clothes out on my bed for you already. I’ll clean up here.” You shoot him a tense smile before standing. “Thanks for making tea.”

Robotically, Hajime does as you tell him, and he soon finds himself under the hot spray of your shower, sitting on the tiniest shower stool ever, an extra toothbrush in his mouth. The water beats over his head while he replays this morning over and over in his head, an almost overwhelming amount of regret seeming to begin to drown him. It’s not dissimilar to how he felt when he was on the plane over a year ago now, heading to California, his last hug with you burned into the nerves of his body with no confession to show for it, no request that you wait for him to come back to you.

Still a little hung over and with a serious amount of experience under his belt, he can feel himself getting irritated about the situation. About how clumsy you’ve been. He knows it’s because you’re a virgin and a friend, making the situation even more awkward than it probably should be, but with his nearly overwhelming feelings for you now part of the mix, Hajime is falling back on what he knows best–getting straight to the fucking point.

Feeling clean and refreshed, as well as carrying a new sense of determination, Hajime yanks on the sweats and shirt that are, of course, too small on him compared to when he was in high school. He ignores the discomfort, instead making his way back out into the living room with a scowl on his face. You’re in the kitchen, back to him while cleaning up whatever you had left out and around from the days before.

He says your name, and you give him a glance over your shoulder, a forced innocence in your eyes.

He twists his lips and points to the couch. “I wanna talk.”

He can see how you twitch, standing for a moment and staring back at him before sighing, putting down the bowl and sponge in your hand, washing your hands before you join him on your tiny couch.

It’s silent for a moment, only the sounds of people occasionally passing by under your window filling the space.

It comes out clumsier than he intends for it to. “Tell me what you want.” He can feel that his voice shakes in his chest, but it sounds stable to his ears.

You raise an eyebrow at him, playing with the tattered bottom of his old Aoba Josai shirt. “I…” You trail off, look abashed but holding his gaze. He can feel himself getting hot under his too tight shirt, his ears burning when you sit up a little straighter, turning to face him. “I want you to fuck me.”

Hajime blinks at you, the heat in his ears spreading to his cheeks, tingling down his neck. All the times he’s fantasized about hearing those exact words come from your pretty lips has done nothing to prepare him for actually hearing them. Out in the air, unable to be revoked, an absolute truth in drunkenness and sobriety.

His heart feels like it’s going to pound out of his chest, and he desperately attempts to formulate a response.

“I trust you,” you continue, glancing between him and any other surface in your apartment. “And I know you know what you’re doing. I can’t…” You swallow, and he stares at you. “I can’t imagine it with anyone else.”

You’re going to kill me. “You--” He gulps, leaning forward, hands on his knees while he looks up at you, trying to catch your eye again. “You’re sure this is what you want? You don’t want to wait for--for someone special--”

“Did you?” You prod, a knowing edge layered in your tone. Hajime purses his lips unhappily, cutting his glance away but remaining silent.

No. He hadn’t. But they were all different. His first time had been nothing but a bumbling fumble after a party. He’d been too nervous to even get off, didn’t even really know the person he’d been with, who certainly hadn’t gotten anything out of it from him but had been kind about it all the same.

You deserve the best, as far as he’s concerned. Someone who loves you, who cares, who listens. Someone you love and trust. Who will make it one of the best experiences you could ever have as a first time.

Your words from last night, what he can remember of them, echo in his head. The back of Hajime’s neck burns, and he looks you up and down where you sit, arms crossed and peering back at him with soft scrutiny.

“You can say no,” you remind him, tone gentle and light, the focus of your gaze floating away from him. He watches your shoulders come up with your insecurity, the assumption of rejection making you withdraw. Hajime swallows thick, wiping sweating palms on his pants.

Silently, he stands, staring down at the top of your head. You’ve bowed it away from him, arms tight across your chest.

You suddenly toss your hands up, shaking your head and standing. “Okay. F-Forget I said anything! Fuck, I just keep making a fool of myself, and you’ve just come back, and I’ve--”

He catches your waist as you’re turning away, bending down as he pulls you back around to him. Your eyes catch his, wide in surprise, as his nose brushes yours.

Hajime kisses you softly. Different from last night. A chaste press of lips, testing and cautious, his lashes fluttering shut. You break away for a moment, staring up at him. He squeezes softly at the give of your body, and can’t help thinking that even with slightly swollen eyes from crying and old makeup from the night before still around your eyes that didn’t get totally washed away, looking sleepy from your hangover, that you’re still the most beautiful person he’s ever seen, out of all the people he’s had the pleasure of being intimate with.

You reach up with more force than he expects, making a cute little sound of desperation as you pull him back down to you, shuffling closer for another kiss.

He never thought the first time he’d kiss you would be after a night of drunken confessions. He’d hoped it would have been more like this. Cradling your waist, touch soft and hesitant.

Hunched forward to kiss you, he sucks in a slow breath when your arms wind tighter around his shoulders, the kiss deepening slowly when you push up onto your toes. His mouth opens without thinking, head tilting, and the softest of hums leaves him when your tongue touches his, hands flexing at your softness, fingers digging into the thin fabric of your shirt.

You drop back flat on your feet, but don’t let him go. The movement pulls him forward after you, shuffling his feet around yours as he steps after your lead, lips disconnecting with a wet suction that makes him blush.

“M-My room?” You already sound breathless, and he nods quickly, strong hands pushing you backwards, leaning down to kiss you again at your insistent pull. It’s a fumbling process, filled with grunts when you or he bump into something, til you’re giggling against his chest, making his heart race and his lips pull into a smile, a much needed release of tension from the way his hands tingle with his nerves.

When you fall back onto your bed with a bounce and a sigh, wiggling back into place, Hajime is left standing at the edge of it, blinking down at you. You’re so pretty--shifting with familiar need, eyes heavy and focused on him, looking like an absolute dream.

“Should I take my clothes off?” Your voice is breathy, alluring, eager. Hajime gulps, your words like a punch to his gut.

“Y-You don’t have to,” he’s quick to assure you, keeping his voice as quiet as yours, taking a shaky breath. “You can just--”

He snaps his mouth shut when you quickly squirm out of his shirt. You’re not wearing anything beneath it except those tiny shorts. He knew that, and yet, seeing the natural fall of your breasts and the color of your pebbling nipples, the arch of your tummy when you cross your arms and tug the fabric over your head, all your skin suddenly laid bare before him has him sure this isn’t real. That this is another one of his many, many dreams of this nature with you.

“Fuck.” It escapes him without thinking, his throat feeling dry and arousal aching deep in his belly. Your eyes are bright when your face pops free of the collar, laughing breathy and nervous.

“Um, am I moving too fast?” You ask, your hands dragging down your thighs, twisting into the hem of your shorts. Hajime shakes his head quickly, leaning over you, the weight he presses into his hands on either side of your body making the mattress sink. Your arms wind quickly around his middle, and he lets you pull his hips down between your bent knees, rolling his hips into yours without thinking.

He watches, entranced, as your lips part and your head twitches back with the soft grind between your thighs. “You’re beautiful.”

You sputter, brows tenting with bashful amusement, and Hajime’s brought out of his reverie, tilting his blushing face away with a groan. Your hands rest on his chest, twisting into his shirt to keep him close.

“No, wait, I’m sorry, I--I just--” Hajime keeps his head tilted down, realizing only belatedly that his face is inches away from your breast. His mouth waters, and he takes a slow, calming breath with you, trying to ease the throb in his gut at the sight. “I’ve just thought about this--you--um. A lot. I’m nervous.” Your eyes are wide, imploring. “I’m happy, Hajime.”

His heart is surely in his throat. Your hands tug at his shirt again, and you whine his name softly, your lips pressing to his warm forehead.

And he gives.

With a whisper of the sheets, he lets his weight slink to his forearms, weight pressing into you, and his lips press a kiss just next to your nipple. You gasp and arch, the sweetest moan breathed right against his temple. Hajime sighs against you, mouthing at the giving flesh, around the hard bud of your nipple, nose pressing into your tit.

He’s careful with his weight on top of you, careful with his teeth while he worships your breast til it’s shining with his spit and your nipple is firm and hard against his tongue. You’re tugging at his hair and whining sweetly, hips rocking back and forth under the weight of his between your thighs.

“Oh my god,” you gasp, thighs squeezing his middle. He likes the feel of it, when they wrap around him and lock him in close. A preview of what’s to come. A deep groan escapes him when he kisses his way to your other breast, fingers pinching at your taut and wet nipple he leaves behind, pushing both closer to his face. His hips push forward when he dick throbs in response to the cute, disbelieving giggle of pleasure that leaves you, his heart racing at the sound.

He glances upwards from under heavy lids, only able to see the arch of your throat while you bask in the pleasure he puts upon your body, and Hajime pushes forward to drag kisses up the soft skin there, big hands still massaging your chest as he goes. You hiccup, lashes fluttering when you turn your face towards him, and it's so easy to kiss you, for his lips to slip against yours, his chin wet from his own spit. He sighs with your muffled whimper, squeezing tight to your tits when you nip at his bottom lip and tug. He stares down at you when you let it pop free, taking in the shine he’s left on your lips, watching them part when he pinches at both your nipples again.

“Has anyone ever touched you like this?” His voice is a low, breathy growl. He can’t help it, he’s so hard it almost hurts, so eager to give you what you’re begging for.

You swallow and nod, tugging at the bottom of his shirt. The shocking delight of the bare skin of his stomach pressing against yours, the intimacy of feeling you, dampens the soft sting of jealousy in his gut. Jealousy he knows he has no right to hold, lest it make him a hypocrite. He gulps it down, though he can’t help the slight furrow of his brow at the admission.

“This and someone’s fingered me before. And I’ve given head a few times, but…” You trail off, your gaze taking in the emotions that flash across his face, your soft hands cupping his cheeks. “But that’s it.”

Hajime kisses you again, a sweet short thing before he’s sitting up and scooting back. You lie there and watch, spread out just for him, lips and nipples shining and swollen from his kisses. Kisses that he spreads down over your stomach, reveling in the way you gasp for him, whimpering from the soft intensity behind the touch.

His forehead brushes your stomach, his eyes watching his fingers trail over the top band of your shorts, his body shifting downwards between your spread legs, one of his feet planting on the floor. He can hear your rapid heartbeat from here, ear so close to your chest, while his fingers slip over silky fabric and the hidden curve down between your thighs, his lips caressing the trembling muscle. His teeth drag across the soft stretch marks while he eyes up the dampened fabric clinging to the folds of your pussy, darkened by your arousal.

Your whole body twitches with the tentative touch of his fingers across the wet give of hidden desire. Your fingers cinch into his hair, body undulating softly with your gasp. Hajime glances up at you when he comes to a kneel at the end of the bed, catching your eyes as he rubs a soft circle across the firmness of your clit while sucking a soft kiss into your flank. You curl an arm up towards your face, doing a bad job at muffling your shaky sigh.

“Was it good?” He asks, whispery back and forth touches along the length of your folds accompanying your questing. You whine, embarrassment or confusion in the sound. The arm hooked around your thigh flexes, bringing the muscle back to his mouth while he holds your gaze, teeth nipping and lips sucking with a little more force, pulling another lovely gasp from you, your chest jumping with the sound. “When you were touched? When you got fingered? Was it good?”

He doesn’t stop stroking your cunt through your shorts while you struggle to answer, your free hand grasping at your own breast, the other tugging in his hair while he swirls his tongue over the inside of your thigh, against the scrunched edge of your shorts. He hums in question with tender thigh between his lips, rubbing at your clit slow and soft.

“N-No!” You finally hiccup, slinging an arm over your eyes when his fingers come together over your clit, pinching the firm bud softly through the wet fabric.

His teeth nip as he pulls away, and your whole body jolts with a gasp. He’s already breathing a little harder, fingers reaching up for the top hem of your shorts.

Hajime’s eyes meet yours when you peek out from beneath it curiously, your other hand holding one of your tits, a finger flicking at your nipple. He swallows, tongue pressing into his cheek while his heart begins to race a little, his ears burning. “Has anyone ever eaten you out before?”

Your toes curl and your hips wiggle under his arms. You shake your head, biting at your bottom lip.

A deep sound of annoyance leaves his chest. Not at you, but for your past partners being inconsiderate and taking advantage of your lack of experience. He glances down at the dark wet spot right where your cunt is, and then back up at you. “Can I?”

You nod quickly, and a nervous, excited giggle leaves you when he pulls on your shorts, your legs flopping down from their bent position so he can peel them off of you. Hajime gazes down at your pussy while he struggles to get the shorts off your feet.

He doesn’t do anything about your hands covering your face, gently petting your thighs open, thumbs tracing the warm skin revealed from the creases of your thighs. A quiet breath leaves him when he sees just how swollen you are, how wet. He can’t help his mouth finding the sensitive, delicate skin on the inside of your knee, kissing and sucking tenderly once more, and up, closer to your pussy. You gasp and wiggle, hands sliding down from your eyes to cover your mouth.

Your eyes flutter open and meet his when he glances up at you. Your chest jumps with a hiccup, tits squished together between your arms.

“You good?” His voice is heavy, breathy and low with the rush of need through his veins. He can smell you, smell your sex and just how mouthwatering it is.

You nod quickly, squirming and dropping your arms to your sides to grab at the sheets. “P-Please, I--” Your hips jump when he presses another kiss further up your thigh, curling your knee up, which he quickly slots over his shoulder, crawling closer to your pussy until the edge of the bed presses into his chest. He flexes his arm, dragging you down the bed in turn until your ass is right at the edge, reveling in your soft gasp from being manhandled a little.

Big fingers brush tentatively across the warm, swollen, slippery bud of your clit, pushing into the plushness of your lips around it until it stands lonely and needy between his knuckles.

Your hips jump again with the touch, your head falling back. “A-Ah!”

Slowly, gently, he lets his fingertips drag back and forth across your clit, catching in a soft flick each way. Your shoulders curl, thighs squeezing his shoulders, and Hajime groans with you. Pausing to let his damp fingers swirl on your clit, he lets them press and spread your folds back again, his eyes lowered to take in the pretty shine of the slick that’s started to leak from you.

Shining and swollen, he can see how needy you are. He swallows the saliva building up in his mouth, feeling a smoldering hunger low in his belly at the sight of your little hole fluttering around nothing, clit firm and swollen, how you drip down between your cheeks towards your asshole.

“H-Hajime,” you whine, embarrassed by his attention. He glances up at you, huffing softly when he sees how you’re peeking through your fingers at him, once again hiding your face. “Stop staring.”

He narrows his eyes at you. “No.” You squeak when he leans forward to press a kiss to your clit where it’s caught between his fingers, trailing those soft kisses down to the mess of your pussy before spreading your lips wider to see the clench and flutter of your hole. Each one has you hiccuping and squirming under him. He hitches you closer, a little more aggressively, when your wiggling begins to pull you away, exerting his strength in a way he’s already seen makes you eager. He’s proud to pull another wanton little moan from you with a show of his own desire, one that pulses down to his cock. “Wanna see all the prettiest parts of you.”

You almost sob with his praise, and Hajime’s heart skips a beat, eagerness overwhelming him, making him say things he’ll be embarrassed of later. He leans in with a long lap, groaning at the first real taste of your pussy. You gasp in surprise, hands grasping at your pillow, trembling when he presses a kiss to your clit where it sits swollen and full between his spreading fingers.

“O-Oh fuck!” It’s a trembling whimper that escapes you when he tenderly suckles your clit into his mouth with a whispered groan of his own. He pulls back, your clit softly pulling from his lips with a measured suck, glancing down at your pussy again. You groan and roll your hips beneath him when it pops free, and he licks his lips at the warm, blooming taste of you on his tongue.

“Haji,” you whine, your little hole flexing for him, and he can feel the twitch of all those muscles inside you throb just for him where his fingers press into your labia.

Hajime sucks your clit back into his mouth, your thighs squeezing his cheeks, but this time he has no intention of stopping to tease. He moans into your cunt, sucking and lapping at your clit, fingers sliding away so he can give the same attention to your folds. Dexterous tongue flicks against those aching nerves, and a tentative finger from his other hand explores up from below, dancing over your asshole, and then the short distance to your pussy, splitting between to gingerly press at your grasping, drooling entrance and bumping against his own chin.

You gasp and arch, the gummy warmth of your pussy clutching at his finger when he gently eases it inside you. You’re shaking while he slurps up the heady, slippery slick leaking from your flexing hole after he slowly pulls his glistening finger out. He stiffens his tongue and presses it into you, groaning as he feels the intense squeeze, the same finger dipping in after to slip up inside you again. He curls it and drags out more slick while swirling his tongue sloppily over and around your folds and clit, taking a mouthful of your pussy, nothing but the intoxicating scent of your sex and the heat of your pleasure for him to smell and feel and taste.

His finger slowly drags in and out, curling and feeling the silky insides of your warm body. You’re rolling your hips and trembling, nails sharp in his scalp when you call for him, but he doesn’t mind. He hums against your clit, suctioned softly into his mouth, and he feels your insides tremble and clutch at his pointer finger.

You whine when he withdraws, chest heaving. You lift your head and he catches your eye when he sucks his finger clean, feeling the slippery pleasure on his chin and upper lip, spread from cheek to cheek and even over his nose.

“Oh, fuck,” you whimper, whatever you see in his gaze having your hips twitch upward. “Hajime…”

He hums in question, holding the heady look in your eye while he sucks his middle finger wet, dipping two fingers back down to stroke between your drenched folds.

“M-More?” You plead, so sweetly, biting your bottom lip.

He doesn’t leave you empty for long, looking down to prod at your relaxed hole, his middle finger breaching first, and then his pointer following after, stretching you out slowly before his very eyes. He groans softly, not wanting to miss the slick squelch that escapes your cunt as he mercilessly slides his fingers up and up into your warmth until he’s at his last knuckle, his thumb lazily pushing up against your throbbing clit.

You’re gasping, your head dropped back, hips trembling when his two fingertips inside you rub at that swollen spot deep within. He’s just barely touching it, in circular motions, not bothering to thrust when you’re doing so good rolling and grinding on what he’s already giving you.

He pulls the hood of those nerves back and presses a kiss to your clit, eyes rising to watch you sweat and bask in his attention. You twitch hard, pussy wet around his fingers, and look down at him with eyes full of awe that has his heart racing.

“Is it better?” His voice is a deep vibration against your cunt, your body spasming with his question against your mound. “Better than your first time?”

Am I better?

“God, yes!” You’re so much louder than him, uninhibited when you speak your truth to him.

He begins pumping his fingers, hips pushing against the edge of the bed when his cock throbs. He’s aching so badly, he wants the gushy feeling of you around his dick, but he’s ignoring the rush in his head for patience. A virtue he’s long worked to improve upon the older he’s gotten.

So he buries his face in your pussy, feasting and drowning in the wet warm heat. You smell and taste divine, his mouth watering around the throbbing nerves and lips of your cunt. His fingers are smooth and unrelenting, curling and thrusting. Your pleasure is even better, he thinks, eyes flicking up to watch you arch and moan and gasp as he brings you closer and closer to cumming. The strong muscles in his shoulder and bicep flex with purpose, never tiring in his quest to find and manipulate your pleasure as he likes, burning it into every fiber of his being the way that you like it.

Your fingers are suddenly in his hair with a falsetto call of his name, tugging and pushing your pussy up into his face. He can feel your insides throb, those inner muscles wet and throbbing. He’s surprised by how quickly you cum, but incredibly pleased with himself all the same. You must have been needing it, thinking about it, the anticipation working you up just as much as his touch did. The rhythmic wet sounds of his fingers thrusting in and out of you, of the suction of his mouth and the laps of his tongue against your folds that he can’t stop moaning against, is nearly drowned out when you arch and cry, long and stuttering.

He doesn’t stop his pace, doesn’t stop slurping at your clit, dragging out your orgasm until you’re tapping at his head, hiccuping and thighs trembling against his temples. He slows then, fingers pulling out of you to bury his face entirely against you, drinking down what’s leaking from you with a low, bassy moan that has you quivering and whimpering. He locks his arms around your thighs, massaging them closer to his face, refusing to let you wiggle away again.

“God, Hajime,” you moan, sensual and drunk, dragging fingers through his hair in appreciation as he drinks up the rest of what you have to give, tongue lapping through the warmth and swollen cradle of your cunt, nose buried against your clit in reverence. Your body melts into relaxed, twitching muscles, each sigh that leaves you dressed in a sexy little croon, your thighs still shaking around his ears before they fall open with exhaustion.

Hajime slurps away from you with a satisfied sigh, head feeling high and light with his reeling emotions. He feels so incredibly lucky to be right where he is, cheeks and lips shining with your slick, pressing soft kisses up your swollen folds, over your puffy clit, gazing up over the arch of your stomach at your pinched features. Your thighs strain and shake against the strength of his hands keeping you open, weak from the orgasm he just gave you, and he has every intention of giving you more.

He crawls up your body, glad you're wiggling and a little too involved in the echoes of your own pleasure to notice his widened, greedy gaze, his own flushed cheeks. He ignores the ache in his knees from the floor, instead indulging in the way his sticky hands roam up your body, encompassing your breasts to squeeze the softness that he’s been eyeing while his mouth was on your cunt, remembering how it felt not so long ago when he’d been worshiping them, too. You hum, arching into his touch, and he rewards you with another pinch to your pretty nipples.

When he settles above you, you twist your head to look at him as he massages your tits and traces his thumbs around your nipples, and he groans when you pull him down for a kiss.

“Holy shit,” you laugh, breathless and still panting, eyes bright and pupils wide when he pulls back to look down at you.

He smirks, a blooming pride in his chest at the starry-eyed look you give him. He kisses you again, a little more passionate this time, his cheeks and ears burning as you paw him back.

“Take your shirt off,” you plead softly, nipping at his bottom lip. “Wanna feel you.”

If he wasn’t blushing before, he is now, down to his chest. Pulling away, breathing a little heavier, he sits up on his knees and strips his shirt away just as you ask. Your eyes soak up the body he’s trained for, that he’s proud of, and when he slinks back down over you, your hands stroke over him in ways he’s only imagined, his mouth dropping open when you lean up to kiss his chest and leave marks across his pecs, nails dragging down his sides.

Yet he can’t find it in himself to get lost in your exploration just yet. This moment is a fantasy that’s been living in his head since he became friends with you two years ago.

He grips your jaw softly in one big hand and pulls you back up for another kiss. Your nails scratch his sides, and he forces you to take the kiss slower than you seem to want to push. You whine, wiggling in his grasp, but gasping and finally falling into his more sensual rhythm, letting him take the lead again, letting him push you flat and taste you to his desires.

When he pulls away, your eyes are heavy, your fingers digging into his strong back so he can’t go too far, as if he wanted to.

“H-Hajime,” you whine, sucking on his bottom lip again til he gives you another kiss.

“Has anyone ever made you cum like that?” He growls against your mouth, petting his hand down your neck and chest, fingers dancing down your twisting body towards your hips.

You pant and shake your head, whispering, “Never,” against his mouth, and wrap your arms around his neck to kiss him deeper. He hums, some deep seated satisfaction uncoiling in his gut as he pets you and feels you tremble, helps you fumble with his sweats til he’s pushing them off, leaving him in just his boxers.

He lets you push him down on the bed, spreading his legs to accommodate the swollen girth of his cock straining against the thin fabric. You prop yourself up on an arm to get a look at him, your brows rising and lips parting when your gaze travels downward. He lets you look him over, lets you curiously trace your hands over his muscles and abs, all the way down to the struggling fabric on his hips.

His breath catches when your fingers play with the elastic, dancing over the wet spot the tip of his cock has left somewhere near his hip. He growls against your cheek, arm tightening around your waist when you stroke your hand over the silky heated curve of him through his underwear, barely able to wrap your fingers around the girth.

“Oh my god,” you whisper, leaning into his kisses against your jaw. He knows he’s big, and he’s learned how to use it to his advantage. But he’s letting you set the pace, not wanting to lead too strongly in case you get scared now that you’re feeling up his dick and know what’s in store for you.

“Wanna see?” Hajima asks, low against your ear. You shiver, goosebumps rising under his palm where it sits on your pretty ass, his thumb stroking over the texture.

You nod, and Hajime helps you work his boxers down, wincing when his cock gets caught on the fabric. You pause when his dick suddenly comes free, swinging up to land with a slap against his stomach. He grunts, a shining wet spot left under his navel when it bobs from the rebound.

He watches you carefully, where you seem to have frozen at the sight of his dick now completely bared to you. He shifts, a little uncomfortable with your staring, and smooths his hand over your forearm, down to the hand still tangled in the hem of his boxers around his thighs. You hiccup in surprise, looking up from his cock to him.

He quirks an eyebrow at you. “Do you want to stop?” You’re already shaking your head, looking abashed, but there’s a glint in your eye that has him helping you pull his underwear the rest of the way off. He reaches for your as you crawl back up towards him, only to groan in surprise when you unexpectedly press your face to his cock and suck an open mouthed kiss to the fat shaft. You breathe in deep through your nose, eyes closed and your ass in the air behind you, and his cheeks sting hot.

He can’t look away from the way you flutter your eyes open back at him, his cock on your face, your lips sucking along the length of him and leaving a wet trail of spit behind. He would never want to miss a sight he’s only imagined while cumming into his fist or closing his eyes while another person was sucking his cock.

It makes his stomach flutter and his thighs tremble, his cock twitching against your lips when they part for your tongue, and he’s groaning and quickly pressing his palm to your forehead. “I-I’m gonna cum if you keep doing that, holy shit.”

“Hajime,” you whine, your hand coming up to wrap around his girth, and he feels dizzy seeing how your fingers barely touch. Your cheek ends up cupped in the palm of his hand, his thumb brushing over pretty, pouty lips that had just been kissing his dick. His cock throbs in your hand when you open your mouth and suck on his thumb instead, and his jaw drops open as you bob your head, eyes heavy, tongue swirling around his digit.

His thumb slips from your mouth, spreading glistening spit over your lips. “I want to,” you whine, eyelids lowered seductively, something like genuine pain on your face when you lean your head into his hand, angling his cock up to brush your tongue across the beading precum along the angry red tip of his cock.

He chokes at the delighted lurch in his gut, quickly tugging you away by your hair despite your whine. “I’m not joking,” he growls, a half-crazed laugh caught in his chest. He looks at you hard and intense in the eye, trying not to be distracted by the way your hips sway behind you, your hand still stroking up his drooling cock. “I’m going to cum if you do that, and then there’s not going to be anymore fun after that.”

“Don’t tell me you’re a one pump chump, Hajime,” you tease, dragging his foreskin up and down his dick in a slow, unbelievably delightful rhythm. His toes curl and his head rolls back and around, growling through grit teeth when he looks at you again. “You don’t have to worry. I’ve sucked dick before.”

He groans, letting his head fall back again while he contemplates letting you make him cum once, just to take the edge off, to give you something familiar to have control over to loosen up your nerves. So he’ll actually last when you’re on his dick.

He jolts when your lips suddenly wrap around him again, head whipping up to watch you blink up at him like a satisfied cat even though his fingers are tugging tight in your hair, moaning softly into the reddened, swollen glands, your lips spreading wider around him, cheeks hollowing when you tilt your head to take more of him.

His balls go tight and he hiccups. Wincing and pushing he tugs you up and off his dick one more time. You whine when you disconnect with a pop, a thick strand of precum connecting your pouty lips to his dick that you quickly lick into your mouth, and he quickly grips the base of his throbbing cock with his other hand, desperately trying to get his breathing under control.

“Hajime,” you whine, gripping his cock in your hand still, resting half on top of his in such an intimate touch. He pouts back at you, fingers moving to wrap around your cheeks til they plump up under his firm grip, your eyes bright in a way that has a saying his friends in the states used to throw around in jest, but he knows well and true is real.

You’ve got that cum sparkle in your eye. Greed for the most animal of pleasures, in any way you can get it.

He can’t help snorting, even when he feels like one careless squeeze of your fingers will have him shooting his load. His eyes glance down, and with the way his cock is angled, his cum would splatter all over your tits and the bottom of your chin. His breath goes shaky, his cheeks rosy and chest hot.

Instead of letting you have what you want and losing all that arousal he’s built up in you already, he scoops you under your armpits. You squawk when he easily drags you up and over him, your legs straddling his waist and your ass squishing down on his dick. It sandwiches the dripping tip of his dick between his abs and the deliciously wet, sticky folds of your cunt, and he watches you gasp in surprise at the feeling, stiffening up. Your nails dig into his chest.

“You can suck my dick another time,” he growls, gripping your waist and finally falling flat on the bed beneath you, taking his weight off his one elbow now that he can easily see all of you and your soft body above him.

“But–”

He grinds his hips upwards. You gasp and cut yourself off, leaning forward towards him with the rocking motion, your knees squeezing his sides.

He kisses you, massaging your waist, thumbs gliding under your tits, feeling their softness around the firmness of your nipples press into his chest. You melt against him, whimper muffled when his tongue pushes into your mouth. You rub yourself against him, and he hums low into your mouth when he feels the way the lips of your pussy hug around his girth.

“Get it wet,” he tells you, his breath a little shaky against your mouth. You blink at him, the words not quite reaching you. Pressing a kiss against your parted lips, he says it again. “Get my dick wet, baby.” He doesn’t even register the pet name. “Use your pussy.”

That seems to do something to you, a tiny noise breathed against his lips, because you do arch for him, and slowly drag your pussy up and down the length of his cock.

He groans with you, fingers curling over your hips to dig into your ass, thumbs rubbing into the soft muscle as you rub your pussy back and forth over him. You glance down, and he follows your gaze to watch the tip of his dick disappear again and again as you hump across the length of him, dragging his precum and your own slick up and down, eased by the slide of his foreskin with you.

Your clit catches each time against the drooling, flared head of his cock, and you start to wiggle, start to pant, nipping at his bottom lip, your hips rolling in a delicious grind that has his hands gripping your ass tight until the flesh dimples and plumps. He feels like he’s going crazy from the tease, growling into your kiss and rocking his hips up again, the wet sounds of your cunt and his dick slipping against each other making his head foggy with need.

“Haji,” you whisper, eyes fluttering open, meeting his. Arching in a way that has your tummy rubbing against his, and he clutches you closer to feel more. “Hajime, I–I’m ready. I want it.” You take a shaky breath, hump your pussy across his cock again. “I want you.”

His heart swoops in his chest, hand pressing to your back to pull you into another fierce kiss, dizzy from a flush of emotions that run through him. You moan and indulge his kisses, hips still twitching and humping against him, smearing slick over his belly and the sensitive tip of his cock.

When you both finally break apart and shift away from each other, Hajime helps you sit up and shift back to kneel over his glistening cock. He can feel his nerves starting to get to him, his excitement, his desire.

You give him a nervous look, wide eyes betraying your own concerns and how it’s pulled you out of your own haze just a little bit.

“Go as slow as you need,” he assures you, rubbing your sides, thumbs gliding up along the undersides of your breasts. “There’s no rush, okay?” You nod, shifting backwards a little more, turning your eyes downwards.

Flushed hot, Hajime holds his cock at the base for you, helping to angle it up towards your entrance. Your smaller hand wraps around the head, and his chest jumps with a deep breath against the palm you use to steady yourself, his hips shifting with the twitch of pleasure at your touch.

You seem flustered by the tip prodding between the silky soft wetness of your lips. It’s clumsy, and he slides his hand up until his knuckles are brushing yours. You jolt, giving him an anxious look when he carefully aligns himself with your entrance.

His heart is thudding under your other hand, and he tingles with the intimacy of holding your gaze, and holding your hand where you touch the aching nerves of his cock, his knuckles brushing softly into the wet heat between the swollen petals of your pussy. “Go slow,” he reminds you softly, gulping when you nod and press down, your bottom lip captured between your teeth.

His other hand strokes the curve of your waist, resting at the crease of your hip and thigh. Hajime watches your lashes flutter against your cheek, his gaze dropping with yours when your wet fingers slide away over his, the stretch of your pussy easing slowly, torturously over the weeping head of his cock.

He digs his fingers tight into your flank when you slowly slide halfway down him. His breath freezes in his chest, and you can tell when you pause you’re a little unsure, holding your own breath.

He squeezes your slick fingers reassuringly. “Slide up just a little, and then the rest of the way,” he manages to whisper through the pleasure of your tight warmth. “And breathe.” Your hips twitch back, and then down, holding his gaze when the awe of having him press deeper and deeper makes your lips part, your nails dig into his chest, and he has to remind himself when he meets your wide gaze, “Breathe.”

You suck in a shaky breath, a tiny sound leaving you when your cunt sinks further until dripping lips are snuggled flush with the base of his cock. You keep flexing those inner muscles around him, your knees coming down gently into the bed to rock, and he grunts, big chest expanding under your hands enough to push your body up.

He rubs your sides and spread thighs, a little harder than necessary probably, in an attempt to ground himself at the teasing bliss of finally, finally, finally having you.

Your brows are pulled together in a way he doesn’t like, and he frowns, petting your thighs. “Are you okay?” He doesn’t know how he managed to make his voice steady.

You sniffle, nodding and press a hand low to your belly. Hajime bites his bottom lip, his hand moving to cover yours. “Yes, you’re just…a lot.” You look embarrassed, and he’s embarrassed when his cock twitches inside of you.

Swallowing down the dumb male pride in his head, he asks, “Does it hurt? I don’t want it to hurt.” And he truly doesn’t. He’d rather stop and try again later than have you force your way through it.

You take a shaky, deep breath, and the both of you shift. Hajime grunts, and you watch him with that sparkle in your eye coming back. It has his chest feeling hot under your hand, his cheeks and ears burning, too.

“A little.” You admit softly. He’s about to speak, to tell you to take him out so you can be more comfortable, when you give another experimental rock. He groans through grit teeth, staring down at where your cunt grinds against his trimmed pubic hair. “B-But, it’s just...oh,” you breathe, hiccuping and stopping in surprise at his sound, your sudden inexperience showing and flooding back to him amidst the pleasure of your pussy hugging his cock.

Get yourself under control, he desperately tells himself, taking a grounding breath and looking up into your concerned, nervous gaze.

“S’okay,” he whispers, tenderly taking your hands in his. Your smaller fingers weave through his, palm to palm, your eyes entrancing his own when he holds your hands supportively, bracing his elbows in the bed at his sides when you lean into his grip. “It felt good. Keep going.”

He likes the look in your eye, the way you stare at him with kiss-swollen lips as you give another rolling thrust, back and forth, your tits pushing out with a deep breath. “Fuck,” he whispers, almost to himself, eyes glancing down your body, taking in the way you move and the rolling curves of you, before looking back up into your eyes.

The bed creaks, and your breathing is growing heavier. Your movements are clumsy, unknown for now in what you like with another person like this, unsure of how you like it. Hajime’s cheeks burn red as he watches the emotions on your face and feels the way your body thrums when his cock finds the exact right spot inside you that has you faltering in pleasure, your toes curling against his slightly spread thighs beneath you.

“I-It’s…” You trail off again, sitting all the way down on him. You both wince, but he can see the pleasure beneath it, and can’t help letting his hips follow yours when you swirl yours slowly down onto his cock, his heels pressing into the bed.

“It’s what?” His voice is deep and growly, breathy in his awe of this moment. He squeezes your hands gently, thumbs rubbing your knuckles. Your hands squeeze his back.

Your eyes flick open, as if you didn’t realize yours had fallen shut. You look over him beneath you, a soft sound escaping your parted lips, and meet his eyes again. “It’s so good,” you confess quietly, weakly, squeezing his hands. Hajime’s heart thunders in his ears.

It shouldn’t feel like more, isn't more at all than just fucking, helping a friend out. But it feels beautiful and delicious and addictive holding your hands while he lies relaxed back against your pillows, panting and watching you experiment with the roll of your hips against his, his cock thick and hard and hugged within the gushy wetness of your body.

Your hands squeeze his while you wiggle on top of him, looking a little nervous and unsure of your own posture.

He squeezes your hands back, bending and spreading his knees to give you some more support.

"Don't think so hard," he whispers, pressing up every so gently instead of letting you do all the work. Your eyes widen and your pretty mouth drops, your hips rolling forward and then back when he relaxes with a shaky breath of his own.

Hajime feels weak, watching you rise and fall slowly on his cock, thrusting back down while his thighs tremble with his own held back passions. He wants to fuck you, he wants to show you all the things he's dreamt of doing to you, but this isn't about him. It's about your own self-discovery, and he's only been blessed with the honor of helping you in the next step in your own journey.

Instead, he holds your hands and takes his pleasure in watching you. His grip is secure, strong arms flexed to hold your weight as you roll and swirl your hips. You find a rhythm you seem to like, and you sigh, head tilting to the side charmingly, eyes falling shut. Hajime’s cock throbs inside you, his toes curling with sharp pleasure, and you suck in a shaky breath at the feeling of him.

“H-Hajime,” you whisper, leaning forward, your tits swaying. He can feel your thighs shaking with the unfamiliar motion, and he hums roughly. You swallow, shyly meeting his eyes. “A-Are you enjoying it?”

A groan rumbles from his chest, and he presses one of your hands to his flushed chest. Surely you can feel the way his heart races.

“Yeah,” he tells you, his freed hand falling to your waist. He can feel the rush in his head, imploring him to drop his own reservations and fall with you into bliss. Hajime lets himself give in as he watches you work. “You feel so good, baby. You’re so beautiful.” You lean over him, your breasts hanging, the hand still weaved with yours pressed into the pillow next to his head. You gulp, looking him over with blown-out pupils, with such honest desire in your gaze for him that he can’t help staring back in awe. “Do you...Do you want me to help?”

You nod, looking eager. Your hips rock in a slight bouncing motion, and like before, Hajime rolls his in kind. He grips your soft waist gently, the feeling of his cock dragging out more and then pushing back, igniting sparks under his skin. It’s clumsy at first, your own hip movement not as coordinated or learned, but you find it soon enough, and everything becomes a little sharper, a little more devastatingly good.

You whine, breathy and soft, using his chest for support, meeting each of his thrusts with a backward sway of your own that makes your tits bounce almost hypnotically. Your hips smack softly into his with the pace, and he lets his hand wander, dragging strong fingers across the curve of your back, gazing up into your drowsy eyes while letting his digits crawl greedily down over one of your ass cheeks, grasping at the fat. His arm flexes with a gripped push at the same time that his hips arch up deeper, a little rougher, a little more greedy, and he stares as your mouth drops open further, a little whimpered curse escaping you, edged in a whisper, your head dropping forward next to his.

He groans at the clutch of you, arm curling around your middle to press your belly into his again, in the way he likes. His mouth meets the skin of your warm cheek, sucking a kiss towards your ear that pulls a sharp inhale from you.

“H-Hajime!” His name on your tongue sounds better than it ever has, and he groans against your neck. He keeps his pace even, but the power of it firm. Your own motions falter, arching your back, whining his name again--stuttery and gasping with each thrust inwards of his cock.

“C’mon,” he pants against your sweaty neck, eyes focused over the curl of your shoulders, growling while he digs his fingers into the plush fat of your ass. “Ride me, baby. C’mon.” He pushes and pulls with his grip on your ass cheek, and you quiver, whimpering soft and sweet, steadily catching his pace once more.

You widen your knees in the bed, setting a firmer base, and arch your hips up before dropping them back down in a sinful clap of skin against skin at his encouragement. Hajime gulps, moaning while he watches your ass bounce, the ripple of fat as it sways and recoils off his thighs tickling some inner animal in him, feeling the way your pussy sucks and drenches his cock at the same pace.

He gets an even better view when you suddenly pick your head up, curling your arm around his head and dragging his gaze back to yours. Your face is so pretty, tense with pleasure and effort, your lips parted to pant across his mouth. He can’t help dragging you forward with a push to the back of your neck to kiss you, and he groans with you. It’s sloppy and perfect, and his lips curl with smug pride when the way he nips at your bottom lip, sucking it into his mouth and tugging on it just like you did to him makes you moan and shiver. He takes full advantage of your open mouth, tasting your tongue, letting you lean into the deep open-mouthed kiss as he fucks up into you, makes you limp and weak against his chest no matter how you try to keep up.

Your hips start to really bounce with his, meeting each of his thrusts eagerly once more. He can feel the way you’ve lost yourself to instinct and pleasure, hear it in the way you moan so sweet into his mouth, your eyes unable to stay open for long. He purrs for you, pressing another heavy kiss to your cheek, to your mouth, squeezing the hand held in his. He can’t help it.

“There you go,” he encourages you softly, voice a rumbling growl in a way he knows you’ll like, eyes holding yours with a measured intensity that has him wanting this moment to last a lifetime. “There you go, my good girl.” His heart rushes when those words slip out for you, unintentional but filled with truth.

My good girl. Mine.

You sob in pleasure, pressing a hand into his chest, eyes fluttering. Your pussy does something wicked with his possessive praise, and he quickly grasps at your jaw, keeping you from turning yourself away in embarrassment, pulling you back in towards him for a kiss.

You gasp against his mouth, tongue touching his. “O-Oh fuck. H-Hajime, Hajime, I--”

“Don’t look away. You’re doing so, so good for me,” he groans breathlessly, pausing in his thrusts to press sloppy kisses against your mouth.

“No! Don’t stop, please?” You plead, rolling your hips, dragging your pussy up and down his cock with an obscene squelch, eyes obediently holding his. “I can’t–”

He shakes his head, hips picking up an even more eager pace than before, faster and harder and quicker. You steady yourself against his chest when it nearly throws you forward off your shaky knees, your cry of delight filling his ears as he heads your plea.

“Not gonna stop,” he reassures you, panting and breathless across your moaning mouth. “M’not gonna stop til you cum for me, sweetheart.”

“Oh god, oh my god–” You sob and wiggling on top of him, arching to open yourself up for the drill of his cock, as deep as you can get it, and he groans ragged, gripping tight at your body, keeping your tits and stomach pressed tight against him.

The crescendo is loud and wet and perfect. Your rickety bed thumps staccato with his quick thrusts that you desperately try to meet, barely drowned out by your wordless cries and sobs and the wet clap of his thighs meeting your ass, the filling squelch of his cock in your cunt. Your whole pretty body jiggles with the force, and the view is mesmerizing and makes his balls ache and his gut clench with his impending orgasm.

It’s really something else to watch the girl he’s been in love with for god knows how long throw her ass back down onto him, to nearly go cross eyed when you kiss him desperately just so he can see the fucked out look on your face every time his cock slaps balls deep inside you. How he gets to feel the way your pussy squeezes and melts around him, leaving a sticky, slick mess all over him, from thighs to abs.

But what ends him is when you start to babble more confessions, your teary eyes holding his while he fucks up into you like a man possessed with soft grunts of effort escaping him against your mouth, your tits nearly smacking his chin each each of his thrusts until he can’t help sucking one of your nipples into his mouth with growl, eyes locked with yours. “I-I’ve been waiting for you, s-saving it for you, Hajime! Wanted to give it only to you–Fuck!”

And then you cum on his cock, with the prettiest, broken moan he’s ever heard. Your eyes grow heavy, your back arching, breasts shoved into his face while he sucks on them desperately, trembling from hips to toes, and he can feel how wet your throbbing cunt becomes, your sweaty hand squeezing his where it’s been shoved under his pillow, your other craddling his hollowed out cheek.

His eyes widen, strong fingers bruising into the fat of your ass, and he chokes on his rasping groans, head rushing as he cums inside you. His body quakes, hips jerking as his eyes nearly roll into the back of his head, hot cum spilling out of your pussy and down to his balls as he thrusts unevenly up into you.

It feels like it lasts forever, the moaning kisses and the writhing bodies, the throbbing rush after rush of pleasure shared together in a tangle of limbs. He feels incredibly dizzy with the emotions that hit him in the midst of it all that makes his heart race, gripping you tight and curling his toes into the bed so he can arch his hips up again and again, melting into you, spreading wet kisses over your chest with sloppy passion while you hug his head tight against you.

Sex has never been like this, with anyone, and he chases the exhiliration of that realization with his cock, deep in your body, teeth in your racing pulse and fingers bruising into the give your skin, his other hand locked tight with yours. Never wanting it to end.

You return slowly, together, with wandering hands and crooning moans. He welcomes your collapsed weight onto him, your face buried in his neck, your still convulsing cunt not yet ready to let go of his sensitive cock. He’s not ready to let go of any of you yet, either.

He lies there, arm slung around your ribs to keep you on top of him, feeling you pant just like him. With his eyes shut, his heart aches when your sweaty hand, still weaved with his, squeezes, thumb stroking his in the afterglow.

“That was…” You trail off, and he recognizes your shy tone by now. “You were…”

Hajime feels a surge of something within him; a desperation, a need, pride that’s been poorly suppressed up until this moment.

He says your name, his tone oddly questioning, interrupting whatever thoughts you were trying to voice.

You shift as if to get off of him. “Y-Yeah? Are you okay?” You sound nervous.

He sits up suddenly, unceremoniously dumping you to the side. You squawk, blinking wildly up at him when he turns to lean over you on a strong arm, his chest heaving as if he’d just been doing sprints.

Hajime knows he must look crazy, knows he must look all sorts of a mess after everything that’s happened, and looks you right in the eye as he proclaims, “I’m in love with you. I–”

He swallows down the extra words that want to erupt from him, and simply waits. He takes in the expressions that cross your face, his own concern and confusion growing as your eyes widen, then your brow furrows, your hands cupping your cheeks as you stare up at him like he just confessed to murder as opposed to confessing his love.

He frowns at you, shaking his head. “What’s that face? Stop making that face.”

“What face?” You laugh, hands still glued to your cheeks, eyes sparkling with a post-orgasmic glow that’s really distracting. “You just told me you’re in love with me, how do you expect me not to make a face?”

His heart is racing painfully in his chest, but he can feel the rush of relief tingling under his skin. “Yeah, but is it a good or a bad face?” He gripes, lips curling into an unwilling smile, a small huff of laughter escaping him.

“Are you calling my face bad after fucking me and then confessing your undying love--” Your voice rises in playful delight, and dissolves into giggles when Hajime’s fingers dance over your side and stomach, watching you squirm beneath him with a toothy grin on his face. You’re not the only one who remembers where the soft spots are.

“Okay, okay!” You laugh, pushing at his hand, face pressing into his shoulder. His anxiousness begins to eat at him again, hand resting flat on your rising and falling stomach, watching you catch your breath from being tickled.

In the soft quietness that comes after your laughter and teasing, he whispers delicately, “I mean it. I love you.”

You cast him a look from the corner of your eye, turning to look up at him, nose inches away from his. You look over his face, and his fingers twitch on your belly when yours come to rest over his.

Your throat bobs, eyes wide and earnest as you look back into his furrowed frown. “I meant it, too.” His heart jumps in his chest. So you did remember your drunken words from last night. “I love you. I--” You laugh, an incredulous sound while Hajime’s brain grinds to a halt at your returned declaration. “I’ve selfishly compared every guy I’ve ever been with to you to in hopes that somehow they would hold up to my best friend, and I guess in some way I was holding out in hopes of--of this. And last night--”

He silences you with another kiss, sliding his hand up your body to cup your cheek. You sigh and sink into the bed beneath him, hands grasping his cheeks back gently, keeping him in place as you kiss him back with just as much tenderness.

“I’m sorry I never--”

It’s your turn to silence him with a firm, chaste kiss, hands gripping his cheeks in a way that make his lips pucker out. He blinks down at you slowly, entranced by your grin and the lovely mess he’s made of you.

“It doesn’t matter, Hajime.” His heart skips a beat, leaning forward to brush another kiss over your moving lips. “All that matters is what happens next.”

You squeal and giggle when he drags you underneath him, his mouth trailing nips down your neck towards your breasts, your body arching into his eagerness to show you exactly how he plans to spend the next few hours–if not the next few days, months, years, if he’s lucky–with you.

You can hear the shower running down the hall, so he must have gotten home not long before you. You heft your bags onto the counter and set about beginning dinner, a sudden renewed energy in your step even after your long, hot walk from the store.

You’re so engrossed in your preparation that you don’t quite notice the sound of the shower turning off, or the creak of the floor under Sachiro’s steps as he comes strolling down the hall from the bedroom. You’re too busy whisking a bowl loudly by hand and bending over your phone to read through one of the recipes you’ve chosen for dinner to notice, and Sachiro is never one to look a gift horse in the mouth.

You squeak in surprise when strong arms wind around your waist, shower-warmed face nuzzling down into your neck. Damp towel and hair, cooled from the AC blowing through the apartment, sends a pleasant shock down your spine along with the smiling, open-mouthed kiss your fiance presses against your neck.

“Man, is it satisfying to see my pretty wife making dinner for me,” he sighs, lovesick into your ear.

You feel yourself tingle and burn with his profession, legs kicking a little when he suddenly picks you up off the floor, strong arms cinched under your bust.

Desperately holding onto the bowl in your hand, you can’t help giggling wildly when he sways you back and forth, pressing kisses across your cheek with abandon. “I’m not your wife yet, Sachi. I am your fiance.”

He scoffs, teeth pressed against your ear from grinning. “You may as well be my wife. This is all just a formality.”

You gasp, pretending to be affronted. Kicking your legs a little harder, you huff and demand he put you down. “Just a formality? I’m here slaving away over your dinner, and our engagement is just a formality to you? I should break it off right now.”

Sachiro laughs, bare chest and tummy against your back jumping with his amusement. “It’s a formality because I would marry you now if you would let me!”

Your cheeks hurt from grinning when he finally lets you down. Tilting your head back, you greet his pretty smile with your own and a delightful puckering smooch, his hands wandering over your belly and hips reverently even when you return your attention to the countertop.

The back of your skirt hikes up his front, caught on the shorts he pulled on after his shower. You bite your lip to suppress any sound that might escape when his hands immediately find the suggestion of exposed skin high on your thighs, his body twisting with yours when you shuffle along the length of the kitchen island.

Pretending not to feel his appreciative gropes to the cheeks of your ass, you set the bowl down and grip the edge of the counter. “Now, if you please, I’d like to get back to making you that dinner you said you were so excited about.” You tell yourself your voice isn’t as breathy as it sounds.

He hums, strong, warm fingers digging into the fat of your cheeks, making you choke off a squeak in your throat. You rub your thighs together, stomach bumping into the edge of the island from his strength. “What if I said I’m excited for some of the other things we planned for our staycation, too?”Even after all this time, you feel flirty, giggly, and a little nervous from his attention and earnestness. He’s so lovely that it’s hard to believe he’s yours, and has been yours for years and will be yours forever.

You’re so distracted by this thought, leaning into his kisses along your neck and massaging between your warm legs, shivering when his fingers dance along the edges of your panties, that you’re surprised to find yourself lifted once more. Your heart skips a beat, crawling your palms across the island when he guides your knees up onto the edge.

“Sachi!” You peer over your shoulder, trying to catch his eye. He’s too busy pulling the zipper on the back of your skirt down, revealing your panties to the cool kitchen, the loosened fabric tangling with your feet. “Wait! I’m still sweaty from going out!”

He bites his lip, fingers hooking in your panties and peeling them down to join your pooled skirt at your knees. Blue eyes filled with glittering love and desire nearly knocks you over the other end of the counter, his big hands groping your ass cheeks so tight that fat bulges between his fingers, your elbows wobbling from how good it feels.

“Even better,” Sachiro teases with a wink, a grin on his lips that’s edged with a smirk around white teeth and his delightfully sharp canines. You whine and drop to your forearms when he spreads your still sweaty and warm cheeks apart, hiding your face in your arms when he zones back into the spot between your thighs.

He groans, making your back arch, your hips wiggle. You pant into the counter, fingers curling around the far edge at the first feeling of his breath fluttering across your naked skin. You whimper, turning your head to look back at him, mouth opening in one last weak attempt to convince him that you’re not clean, only to watch him take a mouthful of one cheek, sucking a stinging bite into your skin, his eyes open to peer back at you through messy, damp hair.

It hurts, in the best of ways.

It’s easy to be manhandled by Sachi. Over six feet tall and a man who still works out on a regular basis, Sachiro can just about toss you around and fold you in half as he sees fit. It’s a fact of your relationship that you quite enjoy, which makes it even harder to resist his sudden show of desire for you.

When his teeth bruise your skin, your words are lost to a surprised cry of pleasure, a sharp oh fuck! escaping you. Your toes curl, brushing the hot skin of his abdomen. Sachiro huffs a laugh against your stinging skin, eyes crinkling with amusement. And then he closes them, big hands squeezing your rear to plump up the fat and taking another bite at your other cheek.

His tongue and lips and teeth worship across your skin while his hands massage you open. Thumbs brush up across your slick, warm cunt and peel you open. You jump at the touch, hiccuping at the rumble his groan vibrates through your lips and clit when his tongue licks down across your holes.

“Oh, Sachi!” You arch, tits squishing against the countertop and hands gripping the edge. You press your ass back into his face, and he tugs you even tighter against him, his mouth suctioning against your clit and lips. The ache in your knees suddenly disintegrates under the pleasure that rushes to the surface between your thighs at his attention. The wet sounds of him flicking his tongue over those throbbing nerves and him sucking down the wetness that begins to flow from you, and the embarrassment you feel from everything building up only adds to your enjoyment of it all.

“God, you taste good,” he rumbles hot against your pussy, pulling away to take a deep breath. His teeth nip next to the crack of your ass, sucking a bruise there, growling in response to your yip of surprise. “I can’t wait to make up for all the time I’ve missed getting to love on this pussy the way you deserve.” He licks over your clenching hole while thumbing your clit in a circle, and you rock back against him with a needy sob.

The sting of each bite over your plush rear makes your thighs jump, your breath gasp, and the whole time Sachiro massages your cunt. His big, warm palm cupped against your clit, fingers spread up towards your tummy and leaving indents. His thumb, now drenched in your slick, fully inside your tight hole, teasing you with slow, barely there thrusts.

The pleasure-pain he gives you with his teeth tingles up your back and down your thighs, your clit aching against his warm hand and the attention he gives to it. He gives long, eager licks across your cunt, thumb stroking more and more slick out of you, thumb pinching softly at your clit.

“Have you missed this?” Sachiro asks against your hip, having dragged kisses and nips and hickies across an ass cheek, down the outside of your thigh with a ragged groan against the goosebumps on your skin. “Like I have?”

You nod into the crook of your elbow, eyes shut so tight you see rainbow lights behind your lids. Your hips are rocking side to side, back and forth into his massaging fingers at your clit, only to jolt and squeak when he lands a wet, sudden smack against your throbbing nerves, his teeth digging into a stinging spot at the fattest part of your ass.

“Sachiro!” You tremble, holding desperately to the edge of the island counter. You feel so incredibly sensitive all over. From the stroking light touches over teeth marks that spread tingles and stings across your nerves, to the wet sound of your pussy humping across his palm and the warmth it brings to your clit.

“Say it,” he says, his voice so sweet and patient despite the way he drags his tongue over the marks he’s left to make them ache more, and how his drenched fingers are now taking the place of his teasing thumb to spear slow and deep into your clenching insides.

You gasp, back curling, knees slipping wider, the tiles beneath your mouth fogged with condensation from your open-mouth panting. “Yes! I’ve mi-missed you so bad!”

He moans, the sound edged with a smile, and suddenly muffled when he presses his face deep against your pussy again, tongue swirling and long fingers taking the place of his thumb, digging deep and finding that swollen spot inside you that he knows so well. Two fingers prod at it, your lungs filling with a gasp and your back curling in on itself so hard you almost bonk your forehead on the countertop.

It doesn’t take much longer after that. He doesn’t care about the ache in his neck or the way his nose presses into your cheek while he sucks on your clit sloppily, his fingers thrusting wet and noisy into you. You squeal, toes curling and feet kicking against his thighs as your whole body curls in on itself, the pleasure he so eagerly gives you, growls against you, grows and flows over at his calling.

“Haah!” Your cries come through a gaping mouth, your chest heaving with desperate breaths as your body thrums. You wiggle and rock your ass against his face, a big and strong hand gripping you by the thigh painfully tight to keep you from falling head over the other end of the counter, sinking into the fat of your trembling leg with reverence.

Sachiro hums as he pops off your clit with a hard suck, and you whimper at the shock it sends through you, pouting into the sweaty crook of your elbow.

You’re twitching, cunt throbbing, your back relaxing into an even further arch as the afterglow settles over your form. The tile of the countertop feels wonderfully cool on your cheek despite how it digs into your knees, and a little moan of satiated delight leaves you. Sachiro presses wet, loving kisses over your hips and the small of your back, warm hands stroking up under your shirt and over your shoulders.

From behind you, Sachiro tenderly rubs over your abused ass cheeks with a breathy little laugh across the small of your back. “C’mon, let's just go to bed for a little while. Catch up on things.” The way he says things has your toes curling against his sides, bare pussy twitching with a needy throb right in front of his face.

You finally get up the energy to peer over your shoulder at him. His eyes are crinkled in amusement, brows arched up while he sticks his glistening thumb in his mouth to suck it clean. His cheek is smushed against the rise of your butt, somehow so cute despite the way your slick is coating his cheeks and chin.

“What about dinner?” Your voice is a weak mewling mess, cheek squished against the counter emphasizing your pout even more, pushing your bottom lip out even more prominently.

Sachiro chuckles, easily scooping you up off your sore knees, your skirt tangling up in his arm under your knees. It drops, forgotten, to the floor.

Straddling his hips, ass presented towards your husband, you keep your eyes down towards your hands. Splayed fingers pressed into the bed between his spread legs, clutching at the fitted sheet. His cock feels like it’s in your chest, but that’s not so unusual and you revel in how no matter how much you bounce your ass up and down, it never feels like it ends, never feels like it will slip out, only going deeper and deeper, knocking moan after moan out of you each time your ass slaps down onto his abs.

Your elbows tremble precariously when his hands grope the globes of each cheek, spreading them wider to see how you ride him. It’s embarrassing, but feels so good, too. He groans, deep and breathy and soft, big warm hands massaging your cheeks, gliding up the arch of your back, caressing your shoulders and then back down your flank. He’s tall enough that even when you’re turned and hunched away from him he can grab and massage your swaying tits while you work yourself up and down his shaft.

You glance back over your shoulder and moan, watching Aone gaze down at your ass, in his hands once more, spreading your cheeks to gaze at the way your pussy swallows his cock over and over again. His cheeks are bright red, blushing all the way down his chest that heaves with labored, pleasured breaths, his kiss swollen lips parted in reverence.

You can’t help but think he’s so pretty, blushing and shining faintly of sweat, his muscles flexing with his own little grinds up into you. How big his hands are on your ass, how strong they squeeze and pull and manhandle you when he’s lost in your pussy, too fucked out to realize that he’s not being as gentle as he was when this all started with sweet little kisses and you on your back.

When his eyes flick up to meet yours, you quickly turn away, suddenly shy, your pace stuttering when he squeezes your ass. You whimper, rocking and swirling your hips back onto his cock, head bowed low to avoid his eye in the mirror in front of you.

He calls for you, soft and shaky. A big hand strokes up your back again, thumb tracing your spine. You shiver, arching into his touch with a small sound, pace faltering into a rolling motion, back and forth on his cock, rocking it inside you. He moans with you, but your attempt to distract him doesn’t keep his hand from curling over your shoulder, that thumb brushing against the glistening nape of your neck. His other hand still rests on your hip, thumb stroking over your tailbone.

“Look at me, darling,” he pleads in a whispery groan. Curse his reach, you think when his hand wraps gently around the front of your neck, guiding your head up and pulling you down further on his length with the soft tug. You gasp, your hands come up off the bed, and you have to grasp his spread knees on either side of you for support as you’re guided upright. Your toes curl and fingers digging into his skin, eyes fluttering up towards the mirror, and meeting his impassioned gaze over your shoulder. You can’t hunch to hide from yourself or your body, from his gaze or his loving hold.

He sighs, his other hand squeezing your ass where it still rests, and says, “Y-You’re so pretty.” His thumb on your face caresses your warm cheek. His cock throbs inside you when he holds your gaze, and you can’t help rocking your hips, Aone’s big hand on your rear squeezing reflexively when your pussy clutches at him.

You whine, eyes fluttering shut, leaning into his palm. “Nobu…” Your tone is bashful, pussy aching, body filled with mixed signals. Desire, humiliation, passion, anxiety. “I-It’s embarrassing…”

He makes a needy sound when you close your eyes, and you feel yourself tugged backwards. You gasp, arching as if you’ll fall backwards. But Takanobu’s strong arms keep you upright, huge hands moving to grip your elbows together behind your back, forcing you upright in his lap.

“It’s true,” he insists, a little gravely whine in his throat that has you hiccuping, hands squeezing your biceps. “Look.”

It’s hard to look anywhere else but the mirror in this position. He holds you up on strength alone, sat upon his cock and fully naked. Body entirely on display in the warm glow of the single lamp in the corner of the room while he fucks up into you, slow and firm.

Each deep kiss of his cock punches a moan from you. He’s so big that you don’t even need him to touch your clit, the way he spreads you wide manages to stimulate all those inner nerves perfectly. And yet the sight in front of you is nonetheless entirely erotic and delightful, enough so to make your clit throb.

You see every curve and jiggle, every dimple and misplaced hair that catches on your sweaty skin, and yet you can’t help realizing you look ravished. Ravishing. You arch more for yourself, meeting your own eye before looking over your body, and Takanobu squeezes your biceps with a groan.

“N-Nobu!” You squeal, letting your head fall back, tits bouncing so rough it feels good. You find yourself tugged back, until you’re laid across his broad chest, your head resting limp on his shoulder behind you, eyes squeezed tight, head spinning from pleasure. But not for long.

Strong, comforting arms wrap around you, massive hands grope you. A big warm hand drags the fat of your breast up with its grip, until it slips free and those strong fingers curl lovingly around your throat. His other remains between your shuffling thighs, resting teasing and warm just above your aching clit.

"No." Aone is breathless in your ear, voice too deep to really whisper. Your mouth drops open when he tenderly grips your jaw, using his strength to drag your fluttering gaze forward once more. "Look."

“Takanobu…” Your tone is reluctant, embarrassment keeping you from looking at yourself in the big mirror mounted on the wall across from your shared bed. You’re splayed out on your husband’s broad chest, your legs spread around his thick thighs, his knees keeping you apart. You can see the reflection of light off of the wetness you’ve leaked everywhere, what’s been spread up your thighs and your tummy. Your pussy is on display, lips stretched out around Takanobu’s thick cock, which shines in turn all the way down to his heavy balls.

His cheek is hot against yours, and his gaze is something else. Molten, loving, crinkled in the corners with the weight of his desire for you. His hands trace your curves, so big and warm, rough from his work but so gentle with. He gropes lovingly at your tits, your waist, your mons, making you wiggle and arch against his big, warm chest, his heartbeat fluttering heavy against your back.

You hiccup, and reach up, mirror guiding your hand, to cup his other cheek, pressing him closer. His hand on your jaw pushes you closer, til your eye contact in the mirror breaks so that you can arch back and kiss him. It’s messy, clumsy when he’s still gently fucking himself up into you.

“D’you see it?” He asks, whispered soft and throaty against your mouth. “H-How beautiful…?”

His fingers on your tummy press into your skin, dimpling and pushing down on where his cock sits at home inside you, his fingers crawling down to finally touch your clit. It’s like a zap of electricity how needy those nerves are, your whole body jolting, your body warming. You make a muffled sound against his mouth, a mixture of pleasure and curiosity, breaking away with a gasping breath when you have to moan from the feeling of how deep he reaches, how it’s so easy for him to fuck you right.

Your head rolls along his shoulder, hips squirming with the tight pleasure building under his shining fingers on your clit, his huge palm pressing into your belly, thumb hiding in the crease of your thigh and hip. His stupidly big cock fucks you dumb even when he’s so gentle. Your head is fogged over, heart racing so loud that you would have surely missed his mumbled words if they weren’t right next to your ear, shooting goosebumps down your arms and thighs, pulling a delightful quiver from your whole body.

“Y-You’re the prettiest,” he moans softly in your ear, his gaze fucked out and holding yours in that massive vanity mirror across from your bed. “H-How you walk, talk, how you laugh. I-I’m so lucky. I’m so lucky you saw me, my love, that you w-want me.” His chest hitches, his cock twitching inside you, his fingers quickening on your clit.

“T-Takanobu!” You call, hand to your face in embarrassment, but a sizzling warm delight and love burning under your skin at his confession, eyes holding his in the mirror. You couldn’t bear to look away.

His arms are strong and hands are loving, gripping you against his broad chest while he rolls and circles his cock up into you. It’s impossible to keep quiet anymore, impossible to be shy when he’s so thoroughly fucked any and all worries from your brain, leaving you feeling limp and at his mercy, more than happy to be there.

“Always…” Aone’s breath catches, his throat bobbing with a swallow while he watches you back, his cheeks flushed red. “You’ve always been s-so pretty. You always will b-be. The p-prettiest.”

Your hips jolt and wiggle, a little whine escaping you. His praise zips through you, straight to your clit that’s firm and warm and aching so good under the roll of his broad fingers, four of them working at you and squeezing your cunt just the way you like it, the drag of the underside of his cock pressing up against those nerves from the inside making your brain melt along with everything else.

When you cum, you can’t do anything but gasp and shake in his hold, tits swaying with each quick breath and the heavy upward thrusts of his hips against you. You grip at his big forearms and arch, his strength easily keeping you from wiggling away. Aone moans low and shaky against your cheek, kissing away the single tear that drips down across his lips.

“So, so, pretty,” he breathes, hugging you close while working you through your orgasm until you’re pushing at his hand, the touches to your clit becoming overwhelming.

You’re left panting and dizzy against his chest, easy to manipulate. He moans again, a desperate sound. Big, warm hands grip behind your knees and pulls your legs up until your tummy tucks into itself, keeping you spread easily while he fucks up into you. You’re gasping, still reeling from your orgasm, holding onto him as best as you can–at his neck, at his forearms.

He’s blushing red, cheek pressed to yours, slick with sweat at his temple. A mix of yours and his. He looks in awe as he gazes upon your body in the mirror. How eagerly he admires your form. How he’s sawing in and out of you, thick and deep, his big hands digging indents into your thighs to keep you spread.

“N-Nobu,” you whimper, hand on his cheek. His eyes flick up to meet yours in the mirror. You gaze back at him in the mirror, drunk and in love, the shining and dripping split of his cock up inside you entirely in view. You arch for him, letting his cock hit deeper with his rolling, needy pace that has your toes curling, your whole body tingling with the rush of vulnerability and intimacy. “I love you!”

Takanobu gasps, his pace hiccuping. Both arms suddenly wrap tight around your limp thighs until they press together and your feet sway, crossed in the air. He hugs your knees to your chest to fuck up into you quick and desperate. Soon, his moans are laced with the loud smacks and pops of your pussy squeezed even tighter on him, so wet and full on his cock from cumming so hard.

You sob and grip his short hair in your fingers as you’re bounced mercilessly for his pleasure. Past your legs in the mirror, you can see how his cock fucks up into you and the weakened, loving gaze he holds for you despite how flushed his cheeks are.

“I love you,” he breathes back against your cheek, choking on his moans, eyes barely able to keep open to look at you. “I-I love you, I love you, darling–”

He cradles you against him while he finds his end, so tender and protective, his arms bulging where they’re pinned against the back of your thighs to squeeze you closer, his hold and gaze laced with a possession and love that makes you swoon. A whole hand gripping tight to your wet thigh, flesh squeezed between strong fingers in mindless praise of your form.

You’re a mess, you can see it clearly in how you sweat and pant and whimper mindlessly, but so is he. All for you.

His cock thickens and throbs, his pace sputtering out. Takanobu cums hot inside you with heavy groans and hazy kisses against your cheek with his nose wrinkled cutely through his pleasure, but you miss the wonderful sight of it fucked out of you, as his thrusts slow, thick pearls of it dripping down his length and smeared to the insides of your thighs, staining the sheets, his balls pressing up tight against the glistening crease of the backs of your thighs.

His eyes are holding yours in the mirror, and you feel beautiful.

You’re laid out on your tummy, moaning into your pillows while the big, strong Espada straddles your ass and growls in your ear from behind, hips clapping loud and furious against the fat of your rippling cheeks. It’s a wet mess between your thighs, where his fat cock drags and smears slick and precum all over them from the tight fit of your pussy.

You can’t shut up, mewling and sobbing with how good it feels. He loves it when you’re loud, when you squirm and cry while he fucks you how he likes. He likes being able to shove you down and drag his nails down your back and breathe dirty praise into your ear, even if you can’t hear it over the sounds of your own hiccups and pleads and the buzzing pleasure that comes from his cock pounding into you.

This time, though, you do hear it, accompanied by the noticeable change in size of his cock as he ruts against you, his bared teeth grit just against your ear. “--gonna fucking knot this pussy up, cum inside you til it hurts, my good little kitty will take it all won’t you--”

Something balloons against you again between your thighs, alarming you. You stiffen with a gasp, Grimmjow snarling in frustration when it catches on the entrance of your pussy, not quite fitting in the way he wants it to. You squeal, lock your legs tightly together when he draws back and tries to shove back in. The fat knob on the end of his cock smacks sticky and wet into your thighs instead, burning hot and throbbing bigger against you.

Grimmjow chokes, nails pricking into your asscheek when he grips it tight, only a few inches of his cock able to push into your pussy with the tight, wet squeeze of your thighs keeping him out. “Wha--You fucking b-bitch--”

He rips his whole body back with a growl, and when you twist in confusion, you watch the way he hunches over your legs where he kneels behind you, shoulders hunched to grasp the base of his cock with one big hand. A pinky is caught under his fat balls, pushing them up to show off the way they glisten with your slick, but the other digits of his hand are wrapped tight around the swollen base of him, squeezing so tight the veins in his arm bulge, silky skin bulging between his fingers, his cock angled down with his grip.

You can see the way it pulses, only to gasp when he suddenly cums in a burst across your thighs and the backs of your knees. Grimmjow glances up at you through hanging blue hair and glowers while he pants, flushed pink in his chest, wincing with each rope of hot cum that releases onto your body. He squeezes at himself again and groans, his other hand on your ass bruising tight.

“G-Grimm--?” You try to turn, but he shoves your hips back down.

“Sh-Shut the fuck up--” He doesn’t stop cumming, gnashing his teeth and hips thrusting forward into his grip. You wiggle, watching over your shoulder as his cock kicks, white spunk spilling down his length and knuckles at his base, making a mess from your ass to your knees. After what feels like forever, his release slows to a dribble, his tensed up shoulders dropping while he pants, his glower slackening into the usual sharp look set on his face.

You lie there, pleasure still buzzing under your skin when he sinks forward with a moan, his face tucking itself between your hip and the bed while he catches his breath. The bony bit of jaw on his face digs into your thigh, but you say nothing of it, choosing to instead tentatively comb your fingers through the damp roots of his hair.

A low purr escapes him that he abruptly cuts off, making you simper in amusement. Though you’re still left confused and dissatisfied.

“Uh.” You clear your throat. “What was that?”

Sharp teeth nip at your thigh, making you yelp. His arm loops around your waist before you can wiggle away, and with a strong tug, he’s yanking you down the bed, uncaring of your gripe about being pulled into his massive cum spot.

Grimmjow is unfairly attractive, especially now that you’re nose to nose. His cheeks are flushed with a pretty blush, his hair a mess, his jaw flexing back and forth with his irritation. Those intense teal eyes of his make you want to flinch away, but you know he’ll only force you to look back.

He gives you a look that in any other situation you would call a pout. “I fucking told you. It’s my fucking knot, woman.”

He pushes his hips against you, letting you feel the half-hard length of him. You glance down, dragging a hand over his impressive abdominals, skimming past the rim of the Hollow hole in his belly til your fingers are whispering over the ridge of his cockhead. You cast him a playful look when he digs his fingers into the fat of your ass, huffing a purr against you, only to falter at the soft swell that has yet to go all the way down at the base of him.

“What the fuck?” You pull back, and he lets you this time, more than happy to unashamedly spread his strong thighs wider, big arms tucked behind his head as you explore his dick like it’s the first time you’ve seen it. “You actually have one? I thought you were being dumb.”

He rolls his eyes. “You really don’t fucking listen well, do ya?”

You let his comment slide, eyeing up the slightly darker skin where his cock connects to the rest of his body. You won’t pretend you know anything about Grimmjow’s biology or where he comes from--you just work for Urahara and have strong reiatsu like everyone else under his employment--but you feel like you find out something new about him every time he comes over to fuck your brains out.

“Where the fuck has this been this whole time, then?” You ask, pushing a finger down towards it, feeling the give of it. Not unlike when a dick gets soft, and yet somehow separate from the rest of his length.

He flinches a little at the touch, hips twitching up with a bare of fangs. “It--It doesn’t happen all the time, that’s what.” You watch the strong muscles of his chest jump when you wrap your hand around it like he did before, but you can’t help watching how your hand barely fits around it. Grimmjow’s had done an okay job encompassing it when he’d cum, but you know you wouldn’t be able to at it’s full circumference. It makes you a little dizzy thinking about what it would be like to have all that inside you. You can’t help how you lick your lips.

But before you can decide if you’re interested or not, you’re pushed back and Grimmjow is bullying his way between your thighs to lap at your cunt, grumbling about wasting cum and squirmy bitches making him look bad. He doesn’t react at all when you laugh loudly at his insult.

Days go by, but this new knowledge you have seems to haunt you. Grimmjow comes and goes, doing whatever it is Urahara has him doing, and every time you see him you think about the words he’d been growling in your ear, how fat his knot is from what you felt, what you saw of it gripped tight in his fist, how much he came. When he catches you looking, it’s hard to hold his gaze, warmth building low in your belly.

It leaves you dizzy. Grimmjow comes and finds you now and then to catch up in the way he likes to do best--sitting quietly while you chat his ear off, grunting in acknowledgment. But you feel oddly shy, and Grimmjow is nothing if not perceptive.

Those teal eyes narrow at you where he sits slouched behind Urahara’s unused counter space in the store, watching you quietly organize a new stock of strange shinigami candies the man develops.

“Oi.” He tilts his head, leaning closer to you, that same pout on his face from before. You blink up at him, heart thudding in your chest and thighs pressing together. You’re thankful you’re standing on the other side of the counter so he can’t see. “What’s wrong with you?”

Brash as ever, his attitude never fails to make you laugh. The creased glare around his eyes lessens, and he leans his cheek against a fist.

You shake your head. “Um, nothing. Just...feeling weird today.”

He frowns and sniffs, and an unnerving stillness comes over him. Slowly, a brow arches, a glitter of something in his eye making your breath catch in your chest.

“Weird, huh?” He seems amused by something, and you roll your eyes in an attempt to hide how your heart is racing and the embarrassment rising from your tummy to your chest.

“Yeah,” you insist.

“Yeah?” He’s teasing you, that unfairly gorgeous smirk full of sharp teeth and pride making you tingle pleasantly. His leather jacket jingles quietly when he leans across the counter, stretching across it like a cat when you turn your back to him, feeling how his finger catches in the hem of your shirt, flicking the fabric playfully as you walk out of his grasp.

“Yes,” you groan, giving him a sour glance over your shoulder.

He’s watching you, chin resting on the counter, arms draped to hang off the edge you were just next to. His eyes are intense, pupils wide, and it’s a look you know better than anyone else, probably.

It was inevitable that he would end up in your apartment. You have no idea where he lives when he isn’t in your apartment, but he seems to like it here the most.

After he’s been gone for so long, you kiss him with an equal ferocity that seems to make him growl and grope at you harder, tearing at your clothes and his til you’re both naked and he's lifting you up to plop you on your knees at the end of your bed..

His cock hangs thick and heavy between strong thighs, and you can’t stop staring at the way it sways as he knees his way onto the mattress after you. You’re particularly fascinated by that inch or so of darker skin at the base of him that becomes more prominent the harder and bigger he gets.

Your pussy aches and drips, and your hips make a little movement of their own in need. Grimmjow doesn’t miss a thing, his big hand swooping in to shove between your thighs, curling up to grasp at your cunt, massaging the ache in your core and making you moan, leaning heavily against his chest for another rough, aggressive kiss.

His hum is more of a growl, vibrating against your tits and mouth. It’s a sound that’s low and pleased, and has your hips rocking into his groping palm.

“Damn, you soaked. How long have you been this wet and waitin’ for me, little girl?” He nips at your lips, aggressively flicking at your clit til the wetness between your puffy lips makes an obscene sound, loud in your burning ears. Grimmjow only laughs when you wiggle and whine in his grasp, his other arm coming around your middle to keep you from pulling away in embarrassment. “All day? All week?”

You nod, dreamy and needy, hands exploring over his chest and arms to feel the strong muscles hugging his ribs and down his abs; tracing his Hollow hole til he’s shivering and nipping at you, hips rutting against the way you palm at his cock and balls.

Cradling both, you can’t help the way you tilt your head down to look at them. He’s thick and heavy in your hand, precum already rolling in drips down his length to meet the heel of one hand. As his forearm flexes to rub at your pussy, his fingers swirling to wiggle into your wet heat, you tentatively grip the base of his cock, feeling the slight difference in texture and give of where his knot is, feeling how it almost seems to press back. Grimmjow shivers again and growls low and encouraging in your ear.

“Found something you like down there, kitten?”

You glance up at him from under your lashes. He’s grinning lasciviously at you, much to your embarrassment. A low laugh rumbles from the man standing at the foot of your bed, and before you can react, he’s shoving you flat onto your back and prowling over you with a wicked smirk on his lips.

“Aw, you’re gonna hurt my feelings if you keep actin’ shy like that,” he rumbles, hips dropping between your spread thighs, dragging his cock in a slow grind over the apex of your groin. “You can tell me how bad you wanna feel my knot…” He growls low when he nuzzles against your throat, rubbing is body against yours like a big cat, making you hiccup and arch into him, a little throb of delight running through you in the way his skin catches on yours.

“W-Well--” You pinch your lips shut, whimpering when he angles his hips just right to let the leaking tip of his cock nudge against your clit. Your legs wrap around his strong middle, hands flying up to his waist with a pathetic little sound.

“S’not like I didn’t know I had a little size queen on my hands this whole time,” he purrs, hands pushing your hair back to grip at the top of your head and pull you into an arch. You gasp, unable to fight the tug, his sharp teeth dragging down to your tits with a warm growl. “You always look at my dick like it’s a fuckin’ monster, but you take it like a champ every time.”

“Grimm--” You whine, tugging rough on his hair in kind. It does nothing to move him, only makes him purr louder and bounce his hips down into yours again, sucking stinging spots onto your neck.

Your belly is wet with precum; he drips so much of it when he gets excited. He uses a hand to smear it down over your tender pussy and over his length, sucking on your tits while he tugs on his cock with it. You angle your head to watch from where you’re half propped against the pillows, body warming when he smears it down to the puffier base of himself, feeling his shoulders curl under your hands when he touches where his knot inflates.

“You…” You trail off when he grunts against your breast, tongue swirling around your nipple. “You gonna knot me this t-time?”

Blue eyes flash dangerously up at you, his cheeks hollowing as he pulls away, sucking the pliable fat of your breast taut til it stings and you whimper. It pops free, his chin shining and a toothy smirk flashed your way.

He raises his brows at you with an air of condescension, leaning down to prick the top of your chest with his teeth. “You gonna fuckin’ let me?”

You pout and squirm, and Grimmjow makes a low rumbling sound of derision, slapping the length of his dick against your pussy in reprimand. “Don’t fucking act like you don’t want it. You wanna get stuffed? Wanna feel what it’s like to be so full of cum it hurts? To get plugged up so it can’t leak out, til my cum has to take?”

Grimmjow has never talked to you like this before, and you honestly think there must be something wrong. Something different in the way his pupils are so wide, and how it makes heat prickle under your skin from your thighs to your cheeks.

“A-Are you going through heat or something?” Your voice shakes with your question, pussy throbbing when he hitches your knees over his arms to press your thighs back.

Grimmjow gives you a little glare, jaw hanging open as he shifts back on his haunches, til his face is hovering above your pussy. You squeak, thighs trembling in an effort to close your legs, but he’s just too strong. He’s quick to snag your ankles, big hands wrapping entirely around each, and press them back towards your shoulders. He easily keeps you open, taking a deep inhale right above the parted, spread, puffy petals of your pussy, his gaze hungry and lashes fluttering like he’s smelling something absolutely divine.

Those teal eyes flash dangerous and starving. “No, but you are.”

Your mouth drops open in shock, eyes widening, watching Grimmjow turn his full attention to your cunt, his nose nudging your clit. He croons when your little holes flex and drip for him “I don’t even have to lick you to taste how ready you are, kitten. The way you fucking smell all the time may as well be like you’re pushing your pussy in my face.”

Your hands fly to your cheeks in mortification, but Grimmjow groans, suckling the fat of one edge of your pussy into his mouth til you squeal, doing the same to the other, his cheeks coming away shining, eyes still focused downward at your folds.

“You think I haven’t noticed how you’ve been walking, like you want me to bend you over? How your tits are bigger and you keep giving me that look?” He glances up at you from under heavy eyes and strands of hair, lips curling with a soft, low groan. “Yeah...that look.”

You don’t even know what to say. You don’t know what look he means, or how to tell him humans can’t even tell for themselves when they’re most fertile. But he’s nearly knocking your head back when he takes a long lap at your pussy, pulling a thick strand of your slick into his mouth with a hum before he’s shifting back up and over you. His cock hangs heavy and full, his strong thighs bracketing your ass. He nudges the dripping tip of his cock against your hole, bracing a foot against the bed to do it right.

“Grimmjow,” your hands scrabble at his chest, your hips forced to curl up with his strong hold on your ankles still, til it feels like you’re balanced on your shoulders and upper back.

“I don’t have to be told when a bitch needs to get bred,” he growls, low and dirty when he swirls his hips and the broad, dribbling head of his cock is popping back into place after so long. You hate how his words make you whine, peering up at him desperately from where he hunches over your folded in half body like the predator he is.

“Not when I can fucking smell it on you,” he hisses, easing his cock down into your spread pussy with an uncharacteristic patience that has you gasping and tossing your head back. “Like you’ve got your whole fuckin’ pussy out all the goddamn t-time--” His words stutter out into a growl, not stopping even when you stiffen and squeak at the sudden depths, til just the thicker base is left.

“You been thinkin’ about cumming on this knot while I’ve been gone?” He breathes, watching you squirm and pant beneath him with wide and wild eyes, unbothered by your kicking legs where they’re caught in his palms. “Huh?”

“Yeah,” you whimper, your hips and where his cock stretches you out right in your line of sight. You can only watch in awe and pleasure as he drags his hips back, glistening thick slick making his cock shine, his fat balls framing his length and the slightly darker swelling of his knot. You can feel the beginning inflation at the base tug free, see it in the way it’s ever so slightly thicker than the rest of his already ridiculously fat cock. And it has you moaning wantonly. “W-Wanna cum on your knot, Grimm.”

“Yeah you fuckin’ do,” he snarls, his wild bangs swaying across his forehead as he thrusts forward again, hips swirling to screw the thicker base of himself into you, your mouth dropping open with a cracked keen.

The end of each thrust has him resting his weight on his hips and bouncing you down into the mattress with his cock. Stretching you out more and more, though it never really feels like enough. Each soft clap of his hips into yours forces a panting moan from your lungs. Grimmjow watches you all the while, lips pulled into a snarl, grunting rough and low with each of his thrusts.

He huffs in amusement, watching the way your eyes can barely stay open, folded in half and completely at his mercy, only able to pet at his chest. “Where’d that big act from last time go, huh? Pretendin’ like you didn’t want my knot. And now I don’t think you can live without this, can you?” He arches a brow at you in proud condescension, and you hate how it makes your tits ache and your pussy clench around him.

He huffs another laugh. “Yeah? Is that right? Only took a couple days without this dick for you to get hungry?” He pushes his hips forward forcefully, watching you gasp with the tight sink of his knot into place before he’s tugging it free, making you whimper.

You nod, giving him a pathetic look, fingers scrabbling down his strong belly, catching against the Hollow hole low in his abdomen. He grits his teeth, cock jumping inside you, and you gasp when he pushes himself deep inside again, til it feels like he’s pushing too deep, your mouth dropping open and arms stiffening to press useless against him. The base of himself throbs fatter, catching on your clit before torturously sinking inside you, dragging against your clit and stretching you wider.

You both glance down again, and you make a small panicked sound as he slowly tugs himself free, the veiny base more swollen than before, the length of his dick seeming to never end until the pink flared head tugs free and flicks meanly across your clit, bobbing up and drooling across your gaping pussy and spread thighs.

You heave quick, dizzying breaths. “I-I don’t think it’s gonna fit, your knot, I can’t--” You sniffle and roll your hips back and forth as he shifts again with a growl, angling himself once more to push inside with a squeeze at your ankles.

“You can.” He grins mean and sexy, groaning with you when he works himself back inside with slow, hypnotizing circles of his hips. When the fattening end of him meets your spread cunt, he pushes against the resistance with a quivering breath, grinding his hips back and forth until it works inside you. Slower and more intense than before. “You are, kitten. Fuckin’ look at that...”

A tight sound leaves you, your hands scratching up his forearms, nails digging into the strong muscles there. It does nothing to deter him if you were trying, his hips stilling when he’s all the way inside you once more, hips wiggling to nudge and work his fattening knot back into place, his balls pressed tight to your wet ass, his chest heaving now.

Your head drops back, poor pussy fluttering as best as it can on him, unable to do anything but get stretched out and fucked at his slow, methodical leisure. You’re moaning and whining is loud enough to ring in your ow cotton-stuffed head, but it feels too fucking good for you to care about how dumb you look or sound. His cock is so deep, and he’s grinding down into you with precise swirls of his hips that press on your clit and stirs himself up against all the swollen, singing nerves inside you that have you gasping and your eyes rolling and whines spilling uninhibited past your parted lips.

He draws back suddenly, a wet suction of his semi-swollen knot loud and embarrassingly lewd in your ears. And then he’s gliding back in, twitching his hips in such a way at the end that your pussy has to take his knot. That makes your tits bob and sway with the force of it.

You cry and shake in your folded state, tears starting to stream down the side of your face. When you open your eyes you can only find his gazing back or the sight of his cock sawing in and out of you, sticky strands of pleasure pulling and dripping between you. Gazing at the way your pussy tugs and sucks on his knot every time he pops it free from you, his shoulders tensing to keep your hips from catching and being pulled up off the bed the wider his knot gets.

Blood rushes in your ears with your disbelief, mouth dropped open as the bulbous swell of him bullies it’s way inside you over and over and over again, and each time you’re stunned by the way it manages to fit tight just inside you, the width of it rubbing and catching deliciously on your clit with each pass. Cradled by the swollen spread of your lips, the right ring of your entrance struggling to hold on to his knot every time he pulls out.

You blink up at him, feeling cowed and well fucked, that simmering, tingling warmth fluttering out and up your thighs and to your tits, making your toes curl. “G-Grimmjow, I-I’m--!”

Grimmjow bares his teeth down at you, hips thrusting hard and slow into yours, his hands squeezing tight around your ankles where he holds them above your head. “You’re gonna cum on this knot, you’re gonna fuckin’ cum--”

Your whole body jerks when the slight sting of him pushing his fat knot inside, his thrust halting suddenly when it really catches this time, too big to pop free from your poor, struggling pussy. Your eyes widen and you cry out, hips twisting when you feel it swell impossibly. Grimmjow yowls low and in warning, shoving himself down over you, your legs pinned over his shoulders, his kiss across your mouth biting.

“That’s it. That’s fucking it, oh squeeze that fucking knot--” You can barely understand him, the intensity of the stretch seeming to break your brain as your cunt tries to clamp down on him, struggling in it’s contracting delight with just how deep and fat he is inside you.

And it feels like he only gets bigger. You squeak and tremble, hands clasping at his hair and cheeks and the sharp bone hugging his jaw, a swell of panic gripping you for a moment when your eyes catch his and you feel just how tied together you are.

Whatever Grimmjow sees has him growling and bearing his weight entirely upon you, crushing his mouth against yours while he grinds and swirls his hips into yours where he’s become trapped inside you. It rubs perfect and tight against your clit and all those heightened nerves inside grasping desperately at him, his forceful presence and control over you and this experience giving you the grounding comfort of letting yourself get fucked over the edge you had been teetering on.

He grips tight to your face while you sob against his mouth, thighs trembling against his chest, gushing over his cock and knot wetter than you ever have before. Your eyes roll behind your closed lids, making a mess over his hips with how much you squirt.

Grimmjow’s voice rises from growling encouragement, his other hand rubbing fingers relentlessly over your throbbing clit, into a hoarse roar into his own release. Sharp teeth latch onto your throat, taking sucking, hard, stinging kisses all the way down to your tits as he shoves his hips forward. His cock kicks inside you, hot cum spilling and spilling inside you. His grinds and moans and nipping fangs keep you afloat, making you whimper when you get shoved up the bed, his knot and dick continuing for what feels like forever. Until you’re aching with how much cum he’s put inside you, tummy tender and bloated.

You squirm with a whimper when his hand sweeps over your stomach with a pleased, low rumble, his nose and parted lips nuzzling over the stinging pricks his fangs left on your skin. Rhythmic, vibrating purrs run through him and lure you into relaxation where you’re panting and limp beneath him still, folded in half but entirely boneless.

Grimmjow croons dreamily, a shiver running through him making his hips nudge yours in a tiny, greedy thrust, his cock twitching with another load of cum. You take a shaky, self-soothing breath, arms looping lazily around his neck, having no choice but to hold him close. He’s quiet except for his comforting purr while you recover and adjust to the full feeling, gently letting his teeth catch at your cheek and jaw, stroking big hands over your legs and tits.

“Took this knot so well, like a good little bitch in heat,” he rumbles against your cheek, squeezing and pressing down on you more.

When his knot finally deflates and gets squeezed out of your pussy, the cum that’s stayed warm inside you spills out quickly, thick and white. It runs quickly down between your asscheeks and to the bed from around his half hard cock. You wince as he pulls himself out slowly, head rolling lazily to watch how his thick cum is still connecting your bodies in viscous strands.

The pressure release feels good, allowing you to sigh into full relaxation even though it’s absolutely filthy. Grimmjow’s already smirking, snickering when your legs drop like lead weights, his hands catching under your knees to keep them spread.

He looks down at your gaping, fluttering pussy, cum bubbling out in a never ending stream. “Mm, look at that,” he preens quietly, almost to himself.

Your sleepy gaze flutters downward, watching with a sting of embarrassment as more cum overflows and oozes down in a stream around his cock as he pulls out entirely. You hiccup, whining when your achy insides clench, opaque white gushing and spilling into the crease of your thighs, your tummy, more down between your cheeks.

Grimmjow’s admiring, prideful gaze makes you squirm in embarrassment. His hands dance down your thighs to thumb your tender folds open, eyeing your sloppy pussy up like it’s his next meal. A sting of arousal running through you when his half-hard cock twitches and drips another thick drop of cum down to the bed.

You roll over with a groan, sinking into the bed with a sigh that gets choked on when he’s tugging you down the bed by your ankles, his knees buffering your trembling thighs apart. You make a tiny noise of disbelief into the bedding when you feel the throb of his cock catch between your cum-soaked asscheeks, Grimmjow grinding into the plushness when he drapes himself over you.

His lips vibrate with each biting kiss he trails up your curling back. The Espada noses at your cheek, teeth bared in a grin that’s surely wicked. “D’you think I was fucking done with you, princess?”

You shoot him a look over your shoulder, getting an eyeful of sharp teeth and blue eyes. “Grimm--” He’s giving you an aggressive, short kiss, cock bumping your ass again when he grinds your hips down into the bed. Now that you’re fully aware of it, you can feel how the base of it throbs wider and hotter than the rest of his dick, and you shiver, more of his cum spilling out and over your clit, smearing onto your ruined sheets beneath you.

“Just be good like you were the first time, and my knot will slide right back in,” he purrs, snickering when you sink flat into the mattress beneath him with a little, weak sound, his hands massaging your ass and spreading it open when you arch into his touch.

He sighs shaky across your ear, the tip of his cock prodding against your achy entrance. “Promise you’ll be full of me all fuckin’ night, kitten…”

If you take note of your roommate and friend eating up all your bared legs and the shine on your skin, you say nothing about it. In fact, you don’t notice it at all. Instead, you turn on your heel to enter the kitchen you’d exited from, Natsuo belatedly following.

You rip the freezer open, pulling out handfuls of ice cubes to drop into one of his oversized workout water bottles. It’s so warm in the kitchen that tendrils of foggy cold curl and lap out of the freezer, and it feels wonderful across your sweaty face.

“Why won’t it be fixed?” He asks, his questions drawn out and slow, sounding annoyingly unbothered.

“Because everyone’s AC is fucked, apparently!” You snap, slapping the door shut and hefting your extra icy bottle to the sink, fighting with it til it fits under the filter add-on, slapping the faucet on.

You turn with a huff, leaning back against the counter. Natsuo glances up at you from his place still in the kitchen doorway, brows arched. Annoyingly enough, he looks significantly less sweaty than you are, and he was just outside. Of course he would still look absolutely perfect and attractive and not panting like a dog after being in boiling temperatures outside. You’re suddenly extremely self-conscious of the fact your ass is out and your tits may as well be, too, swallowing and crossing your arms and legs in a poor attempt at propriety.

“Well…” His eyes flick down to the movement of you crossing your arms and legs, and quickly turns his head away, clearing his throat. “That sucks.”

“Y-Yeah…” You trail off, suddenly remembering the faucet and slapping it off before the massive water bottle overflows precious cool water. Quickly screwing the cap on, you struggle to lift it up, hearing Natsuo snort behind you. You cast him a glare, shortened temper quick to snap. “Shut the fuck up.”

He grins in amusement, pushing off the entryway. “You need some help?”

“No!” He laughs when you shuffle past him and back into the living room, where you’ve commandeered all the fans in the apartment to blow on the spot you’ve set up on the couch.

“Okay well, since you’re clearly suffering, how about I get us dinner.” You pout up at him, and it only makes his grin grow. “I’ll get us some cold soba from down the street just for you, and hopefully that’ll help you out, huh?” Once again, he does a bad job glancing over your scantily clad body, and as you’ve done for all of your time knowing and being friends with Todoroki Natsuo, you ignore the simmer of a different kind of warmth deep in your belly.

“Thank you,” you mumble against the top of the heavy water bottle, tilting it carefully to take a drink. With the sudden nerves of your handsome roommate’s presence and the fact you’re sweating from literally every pore including the ones on your hands, your grip on it slips. You gasp, splashing water down your front and over your bare legs. It feels great, but when your eyes flit to the taller man standing at the junction between the living room and the hallway further into the apartment, you feel your heart flutter when his cheeks flush pinker, eyes zeroed in on your pebbling nipples and the way your tank is glued to your skin, what he can see of your wettened panties between your squeezed thighs.

Without looking you in the eye, Natsuo spins on heel. “L-Let me just change and, uh, stuff.”

You gulp down your mouthful of water, watching his broad back disappear into the darkness of the hallway, lightening when his door opens and is lost once more when it closes. You slump against the coffee table, fanning your chest with your wet shirt, sighing behind the hum of the three fans aimed your way strategically placed around the living room.

By the time Natsuo returns with dinner, you’ve reluctantly slipped on less sweaty clothes, though you still can’t will yourself to wear a bra. The awkwardness from before has lessened, and you bless him for bringing you cold soba, which he laughs at you for with good nature. You go about the rest of your night as roommates and friends do, until you both retire to your separate rooms. You take a cold and soothing shower and he helps you lug the fans to your room, but even in the dark, at night, with three fans blowing on your recently cooled skin, you find yourself heating up again, despite being completely naked too.

You groan, tossing and turning, pulling sheets from your damp skin. You feel like you’re boiling, your wet hair now feeling humid unlike it’s earlier coldness that helped cool you down.

You find yourself back in the living room, staring sleepily at a quiet TV, only one fan joining you this time. It whirs in your ear, fluttering your hair, helping you stay cooler. Sitting on a tiny floor cushion, avoiding lying in your own heat and sweat, you lie hunched against the table, sighing like an old dog in your exhaustion and frustration.

Distracted enough in your own hell, you forget one of Natsuo’s nightly rituals. A glass of water he has to get for himself every night. The floor creaks with his steps, and you glance up in surprise when he stops next to the couch you’re not sitting on.

“You okay?” His voice is rough with sleep, eyes a little swollen and one palm rubbing at his cheek. He squints at you in what little light comes from the TV, big shoulder bumping up against the tiny bit of wall between the living room and the kitchen.

You sniff, frustration in you coming close to bringing tears to your eyes. “Just...It’s too hot to sleep.” You hate how childish you sound, hunching in on yourself despite how it cages warmth in between your thin tank and the skin of your legs.

Natsuo is silent for a moment, and you keep your gaze forward without really thinking about what’s on the TV. His steps lead him into the kitchen, the sound of the faucet running after a second. It’s not long before his steps are leading him back into the room. You keep yourself forward resolutely, not wanting to look back at him going back to his room, somehow managing to sleep even in this horrible heat unlike you. Not wanting to feel stupidly envious of him.

His steps bring him closer to you instead of back down the hall. You can feel his presence standing above you.

“Do you want to come to my bed?”

Reflexively, you open your mouth to vehemently disagree. Two bodies in one bed? That would be even worse!

But Natsuo reaches out to poke your warm cheek with his offer, and the shocking coolness of his finger nearly has your eyes rolling back in delight.

That’s right. Natsuo’s quirk.

You’re suddenly glancing him up and down. He steps back a little, white brow rising. He’s shirtless, and seemingly barely breaking a sweat despite the broken AC, and, and…

He shrugs a big shoulder, thick arms crossed and leaning a hip against the couch. “I can help you cool down.” His eyes are sleepy, looking you in the eye and not giving away any other potentials that could occur in his bed.

You mentally trail off with a nervous swallow. It’s not like you haven’t slept in the same bed before. Long-time friends do that sometimes, and many a long night studying or passing out from drinking in one bed isn’t unheard of between you. Platonic cuddling is occasionally explored, though not indulged simply because you don’t want to expose yourself to any more hurt that your more than slightly mild crush on the man before you has already.

But this is a desperate situation. You’re absolutely boiling, and you don’t think you can stand another second of it.

With a deep breath, you brush off the pinpricks of arousal and nod. “Please?”

His lips pull into a smirk, and he nods once, gesturing for you to follow him. Down the hall and to the left instead of the right, his door is still slightly ajar, and when you step into his room, it feels noticeably cooler than the rest of the apartment. You slink past him, listening to the click of the door when he shuts it, and distract yourself from thinking about inevitably cuddling with your friend by belly flopping onto his bed.

You groan as the cool sheets touch your overheated, sweating skin. You roll to lie on your back, eyes shut in bliss, legs splayed and for a second, unconcerned with anything but feeling the cool sheets on your skin.

For a blissful moment you forget that it’s Natsuo’s bed until all the other things that mark it as his become distinct to your senses. How his bed feels like heaven compared to your cheaper, smaller one; the silkier, expensive quality of his sheets; the delectable scent of his body wash clinging to the fabric.

The duskier light of his lamp has all of this feeling much more intimate than it actually is. The door clicks shut softly, and a snort interrupts your moment of zen. You squint up at your white-haired companion. He’s grinning, kicking a blanket across the bottom of the door to keep the cool air in. “Feel good?” His voice is deep and scratchy with sleep, and your legs close instinctively.

“Yes.” You hate how meek you sound, watching him approach.

The quality of the bed makes itself known when his bigger, broader body falls heavily next to you, and you barely bounce from the impact. He sighs, wiggling onto his back beside you, cool arm pressing to yours. You almost curl in against him, his skin feeling blessedly cold compared to yours, but you refrain, muscles coiling tight to settle that need inside you.

Whether he’s read your mind or it's a coincidence, Natsuo turns his head to you. “C’mere.” He lifts his arm up, baring the side of his chest to you. You watch the way muscles pull across his ribs, the thick muscles of his abs and chest relaxed with sleepiness.

You flounder for an excuse. “I-I’m all sweaty.”

He shrugs again. “It’s fine. You’re hot. Let me cool you down.”

You try not to let him casually saying You’re hot get to you in any other way than the literal sense. Because that’s what he means.

With a sigh, you cast him a meek glance. He looks way too good with his sleepy eyes and messy white hair, splayed out just for you to press yourself up against. You quickly roll your back to face him before shuffling backwards, lifting your head to rest against his bicep as he curls his arm around your shoulder.

“Oh fuck,” you sigh, eyes falling shut and basking in the cool expression of his quirk.

It feels like dipping into a cool oasis in a hot desert. You let your cheek squish against his bicep, neck pressed into the soft muscle, his forearm curled to press against your other cheek. Through your thin shirt, you can feel the radiating coolness of his skin at your back, and you can’t help wiggling closer, your feet pressing to his shin, sliding back further til you’re clamping your calves around his leg to feel the pleasant release of heat.

“Wow, you--” He cuts himself off, palming over the upper half of your face. His hand is so cold against your warm head, that you don’t even complain beyond a grunt. “Are you sure you aren’t sick? You’re like, really hot.”

You groan, lashes fluttering against his palm, unmoving. “No, Natsuo...I’m not.”

Natsuo’s chest jumps against your shoulder with a laugh. You just grip his wrist and drag his hand down your chin to your throat, trying not to cringe when his hand slides through the sweat that’s gathered there. His palm is big enough to cover your throat and then some, and you sigh happily with the relief it brings.

It takes you a second to realize that Natsuo has gone incredibly still. As you’re trying to push his hand a little lower towards your chest, you realize what you’re doing and pause.

“O-Oh my god, I’m sorry, you just--” You gulp down your words of feel so good, brain scrabbling for a replacement. “Your skin is just so much cooler than mine.” You cringe at his dark window, happy to not be facing him at this moment.

“It’s okay.” His voice is carefully neutral, you can hear the forced banality in it. His fingers curl in around your neck gently, and your eyes almost roll back into your head for other reasons entirely. “I just...I just wanna help.”

You blow out a slow breath as his hand explores the plane of your decolletage, never wandering any lower. It does feel nice, pulling heat that gathered along your neck and nape away, and even though you’re sweaty, you soon find that it's not so hard to forget about it in the presence of comfort.

Your whole body shivers when fingers slink their way up the rucked up back of your shirt, palm pressing against the sweating but too warm dip of your spine. Natsuo freezes when you squeak, a rumbling laugh vibrating against you. “This okay?”

“M’sweaty,” you whine again, feeling his fingers slip through it as he presses his palm against you, another shiver rocking through you from the cold. You squirm, ass pressing against his hip, curling an arm over your tits to hide the way your nipples have started to harden.

“It’s okay,” he drawls once more, his cool breath rushing down your shoulders as his hand glides up the back of your shirt til the two seemingly meet. You feel his skin press to yours, his hand curling around your side to press against your belly as he turns to--to spoon you.

“Stop--” He cuts himself off, grabbing your hip and jumping his body back an inch or so. It really doesn’t do anything to keep the hard press of his cock from the crease of your ass, his boxers and your panties doing nothing to hide it.

He sighs when you fumble to apologize. “I’m sorry, you just…” You trail off, twisting your face into his bicep.

“Just what?” His voice is lower, his nose brushing the damp back of your neck.

You gulp down the nervousness building in your throat, the coolness his stomach had provided slowly dissipating without the presence of his skin against you. “You just….feel...good.”

Natsuo laughs, but it sounds more like a tortured groan than one of amusement. “You can’t just--” He bites off the end of his sentence again with a frustrated sigh, squeezing tight at your hip, thumb brushing your skin. You huff, and you’d twist to glare at him if you weren’t so embarrassed.

“So you can go on about how I’m hot and it’s better for me if we’re cuddling skin on skin, but I can’t say you feel good because it makes your dick hard?” The heat is really making you mouthy.

Natsuo sputters, eyes wide and brows furrowed. “What? I--It’s not that, you were rubbing your ass all over me!”

The exhaustion from the heat and the stress of being so close and nearly naked around your hot, sweet, considerate friend and roommate has really fried your brain. “If you wanted to fuck me that bad, Natsuo, you only have to say so! Not resort to goofy tactics like this.”

A comment you thought would get a laugh, maybe would make Natsuo fluster more than you so you could tease him more, only leads to silence. You realize rather belatedly that you crossed an invisible line of sorts, acknowledging potential sexual chemistry long ignored between you. You stare at the wall for a long pause, your heart thumping against your ribs that he can surely hear and feel with his proximity.

“Um--”

“I want to fuck you.” His interruption has you choking on your words. His breath on the back of your neck, soft and cool, makes the first evidence of goosebumps flare across your skin. You shiver, sucking in a shaky breath. Your shoulder bumps gently into his chin where it dips towards your neck. “Really bad.”

Another bout of silence. Your heart races and you stare at the window, taking in the near imperceivable blur of the larger man spooned up behind you.

“Fuck, wait. Don’t take it as me trying to get you to do anything you don’t want to or make you uncomfortable. You--I just--”

You arch and bump your ass against his erection again, cutting him off. This time, Natsuo uses his grip to help you instead of pushing you away. His groan his whispery this time, his parted lips ghosting along your nape. Unlike your snappish, jokingly exasperated tone, your voice is higher, breathy, jilted when his strong grip drags you easily across the sheets til your body is pressed against the strong, broad plane of his.

“Yeah?” You ask, your voice different than before. Whining and desperate. You twist to press into the soft breath tickling along your ear, making a soft needy sound, squeezing your arms against your tits. “You wanna fuck me, Natsuo?” Tentatively, Natsuo brushes parted lips along the shell of your ear, flexing his hands when you shiver and press back against him. Slowly, he trails kisses up to your cheek, and his arms curl around you when you twist further for the first clumsy meeting of lips.

“I wanna fuck you, too,” you mumble against his mouth.

His hum of agreement vibrates through your lips, and when you part them, he dips his tongue against yours, nose pressed into your cheek, leaning into the arm you curl back around his head. His hand glides up your front to grip your jaw and hold you in place, letting you roll and grind your hips back against his cock all you want while he kisses you senseless.

You pant breathlessly against his mouth, whimpering with the bump of his thigh against your pussy. It’s delightfully cool, and your knee sways open wider, further up to let more of his thigh between your legs til your toes are balanced against his hip bone.

“Natsuo,” you whine across his chin, fluttering your eyes open just to catch his sleepy-eyed glance. He looks unfairly sexy flushed in his cheeks, white hair a mess, and lips shining from your kisses. “Touch me?”

You don’t miss the way his breath catches shakily, his fingers shaking ever so slightly as they skim down the arch of your belly.

“You’re not too hot?” You groan at Natsuo’s teasing question in your ear. “Not too sweaty?”

“Shut up,” you grumble, spreading your thighs wider as his fingers rub teasingly over your clit through your panties. You feel the curl of a different type of heat beginning to tickle it’s way up your belly and down your thighs, making your toes curl against where they rest on Natsuo’s legs. Desperate to quell some of your own embarrassment now that he’s called your attention back to the slip of your back against his stomach and the drip of sweat from your neck down his arm, you close your eyes and mutter, “Y--You’re the one who called me--called me hot.”

Natsuo sighs, and your hips rock across his thigh with the reverence within his exhalation. “I did. You are.” It’s filthy, the change in his tone. Dripping with want that makes your pussy ache and your breath come uneven. Hot enough to make you drip warm between your legs.

It makes you desperate for more. Clumsily, you start to push at your panties, brain hazy with the need to satisfy your long withheld lust for the man whose fumbling to help you yank the stretchy cloth down over your ass, his hand pushing your tank top up towards your tits.

He sits up behind you, breathing as heavy as you. You flinch with each cool kiss he presses to your side and tummy, twisting your hips as he pushes your panties down your legs, til they’re tangled around your ankles. You fling your sweat-damp top away from your body, gripping your breast just as Natsuo returns to you, still spooned against your back to give you a kiss while he fumbles with his own underwear.

You jump with the sudden smack of his cock against your ass once it’s freed, moaning with the silky drag of it when he grinds against the softness of your cheek, smearing a wet dribble of cum across your skin.

His cock feels thick and heavy. Warmer than the rest of his body. His knee bends between yours again, and your leg spreads wide where it’s hooked over his. He reaches down to position his cock between your legs instead of against your ass, dragging the tip of it through your labia, nudging against your clit.

“You don’t--” Natsuo laughs, the sound low and wound tight in your ear, with an edge of desperation that makes you burn. “You don’t know how long I’ve wanted this. Wanted you.” He presses another kiss to your cheek, keeping you pinned to his chest with his arm curled around your shoulders, his thumb gliding through your wet folds where it grips his cock, guiding the warm head in a back and forth across your clit.

His bigger, stronger hand replaces yours over your tit, squeezing pleasantly tight, making you arch as the head of his cock tests the give of your pussy. You’re wet, so fucking wet, and the fat tip of him slips in with ease. It’s the rest of him that makes your mouth drop open to moan raggedly, clasping at both his wrists while he massages your body and groans against your ear.

He pushes deeper, slowly. Your legs shuffle up with a squeak, trying to turn your head to bury it in his pillow. But Natsuo’s arm around your neck keeps you from doing so, tightening to draw you further against his broad chest. His lips press to your cheek, nose beneath your fluttering lashes, and his cool fingers are dragging down between your thighs as he sinks up inside you with a shudder of his own.

He withdraws with a hummed kiss to your ear. “You feel so fucking good,” he growls, rolling his hips forward to press the slickened half of his length back into your fluttering hole with a deliciously wet sound.

“O-Oh my God--” You reach back, flailing to grasp onto anything. His cock is so thick, and you can’t stop the warble that escapes you when the head pops itself inside once again with a slow swirl of his fingers on your sticky clit. Your hand lands on the protrusion of his hip, feeling the strength in his thigh.

Natsuo groans low against your cheek, his fingers splitting down around your clit, petting your clit for the soft back and forth stutter of his hips, kindly trying to ease himself up inside you slowly. Your head reels at the idea of how it would feel if he’d just pushed himself all the way inside you in one fell swoop, your breath skipping and pussy throbbing.

He hisses with the feeling, his big hand groping at your mons, your thighs squeezing around his fingers at the delightful ache of it. “Fuck, you’re so warm, fuck, baby--”

You pant, arched against his chest with a flex of his arm around your neck and his palm at your breast. It doesn’t cut off your oxygen, but it locks you against him when the first brush of his hips, the first deep kiss of his cock inside of you, the fat spread of him, makes you spasm and stiffen up with a hiccup, hips pressing into the softness of your ass.

“Shh, shh,” he pants against your neck, smearing kisses over your shoulder, stroking your belly, shifting his hips forward to fit himself snug and tight against your body.

It pushes his cock the rest of the way in, and your mouth drops open with a sharp cry of pleasure. “N-Natsuo, fuck!”

He’s groaning into each kiss he presses against your neck and your cheek and your jaw, fingers swirling below your belly button, down between the wet press of your thighs to curl the tips of them to your clit.

You can’t stop moaning, ass squishing back against him with desperate little rolls of your hips. His fingers curl against the fat of your pussy again, and your eyes roll when his cock nudges perfectly against that spot inside you that makes you soft and pliable and dumb.

“Fuck me,” you whisper, tight and needy, feeling his breath stutter across your cheek with your plea. “Fuck me, fuck me, please fuck me--”

“Yes. Yes, yes, yes--” A croaky moan escapes the man behind you, and his hips draw back and jut forward again, cutting your chanted begging off with a squeal from high in your throat, blooming warmth growing inside you with the beginning of his rhythm.

The wet pop and clap of his hips against your ass is almost drowned out by your sweet moans and his cool hums across your ear. Your arm is still curled back over his neck, fingers threaded weakly through his hair, barely holding on with the perfect drag of him inside you. In and out, stretching you wide on his thick length and fingers rubbing in circles over your clit. Your tits sway and bounce against his arm, and if it wasn’t for those strong digits on your little bundle of nerves, arm curled over your middle so he can fit his hand between your legs, your hips would surely be bounced right off his cock.

“So pretty,” he pants in your ear, making you whine for him. “Wanted you for s-so long, m’so lucky--” His sensual pace stutters, grinding his hips into the cushion of your ass, teeth catching against your jaw with a low groan.

His words burn you in the best of ways, making you hiccup and twist desperately for any kind of kiss you can get despite the heat, despite the sweat, in tandem with the weight of his cock pressing against your fluttering insides.

Cool, strong fingers squish against the puffy mess of your clit, and your eyes roll back, your own teeth latching against his bicep with a little sob. “N-Natsuo!” Your voice twists up in pitch as your end hurtles towards you with each stroke and rub and grope from the bigger, stronger man behind you. “I--I’m gonna cum, I’m gonna cum!”

“Yes, cum,” he pleads, voice a dripping whine against your cheek, broad chest nearly pinning you down against the bed, sliding against your back from the sweat and closeness between you. “C--Cum for me, l--let me make you feel good--”

Whatever else he says is lost to the fuzzy wave that rolls over you, taking you into the depths of pleasure as he fucks you through your orgasm. You whine and cry, unable to help rocking your hips as he continues to flick softly at your clit, moaning into your neck, sucking and nipping at your pounding pulse.

You can’t tell if it’s sweat or drool that slicks against your cheek where it rests squished into the crook of his elbow, body limp and throbbing as he finds his way to his own end with wet pops of his hips into your ass, his moans ragged and sweet in your ear. He holds your body against his chest to keep you from ragdolling away, and when you gain enough wherewithal to turn to let him kiss you, he cums with a rough groan into your mouth, shoving his hips as close to you as he can get. His cock as deep as it can be when it floods your pussy with hot ropes of seed, his cock thickening and twitching with each gooey release.

The aftermath is quiet, filled with panting and the soft sounds of slow, messy kisses. As the sweat of your effort cools and dries, you shiver from the sudden cold in the room. You curl in on yourself, the action letting Natsuo’s softening cock pull from your pussy. A wave of cool air settles over your sweaty body as it separates from his, and it’s as relieving as it is chilling.

He groans and shivers for likely an entirely different reason, but gives a sleepy, drunken laugh in your ear. You whine when it scatters goosebumps down your back, curling tighter into yourself.

“Oh, now you’re cold?” He gripes playfully.

“Shut up…” You huff, heart fluttering when he smooshes a kiss against your cheek, sitting up to pull just the top sheet up and over the both of you. He settles back behind you with a sigh, lying on his back and arm stretched out beside him, still trapped beneath your head. He doesn’t seem to mind, if the way he curls it around you encouragingly when you shift around to face him nervously.

Natsuo looks very sleepy now, flushed forehead and chest shining with sweat. Hooded blue eyes watch you closely from under messy hair, struggling to stay open.

“You said it’s gonna take a few days for them to repair the AC?” He rumbles, digging a knuckle into one of his eyes with a yawn. You nod, watching half-enraptured as a smirk curls at his lips, one brow arching at you. He lets his arm fall above his head with a self-satisfied sigh, the one that’s still wrapped around your shoulders squeezing you closer. “Then I guess you can sleep here ‘til then, huh? To keep cool and all that?”

Your heart skips a beat, covering your face when Natsuo laughs at your embarrassed whine.

“In fact!” He exclaims, rolling over to squish you down under half his body, cuddling in close, dropping a kiss on your chest. Your arms wind around his shoulders, and it feels more than natural to have him resting his cheek against your breast. “After tonight I hope they don’t fix the AC--”

“Don’t push your luck!” You gripe, the laugh in your voice belying the lack of sincerity in your threat. “Once the AC is fixed it’s gonna be too cold to sleep with you like this! You’re an icicle!” You blurt it out and immediately regret it, the sex you just had making everything confusing but your hopeful crush no less evident.

Natsuo’s head pops upright, his face comically serious. “I have blankets.”

Your laughter spills into the room, his face softening with a cute little smirk, summer heat and broken AC forgotten to the comforting weave of his legs with yours and the squeeze of his hand at your waist.

Clothes lost and headband lifted from his face, Kakashi pulls his mask from his face, rubbing his hand over his jaw, feeling the beginnings of stubble growing in since he last shaved in the middle of the forest returning home from a long mission. A month he’s been gone. A month he’s been away from you and your body, enduring harsh conditions and violence for his village. For your safety. And this peace, standing in his shared home with you and his dogs, is all worth it as far as he’s concerned.

Kakashi hooks a finger in the sheet and silently inches it back. Greedily, he drinks in the skin slowly bared to him. From your shoulders, to the soft rise and fall of your back, the pretty curve of your cheeks and the spread of your thighs. It's a torturous pace, but he doesn't want to wake you. He knows how hard it is for you to sleep alone, worrying about him while he's away, restless with anxiety.

He wants you to get the rest you need. But there’s a warmth low in his belly that’s begun to throb softly since returning home to you, and as selfish as it is to look to satisfy it, he knows you won’t mind. That you want him to be selfish.

His throat bobs with a swallow, the pretty curve of your rear now entirely exposed to his mismatched eyes. He lets the sheet flutter to rest around your knees, standing upright to simply gaze upon you in silent love and appreciation, in lust and anticipation of what he hasn’t been lucky enough to taste in so long.

Kakashi crawls onto the mattress, careful not to jostle you too much. His hand gently presses to your thigh, til all his fingers are wrapped around it, and he strokes softly up the curve of your ass, the dip of your spine, feeling the expanse of your ribs and back down. You shift ever so slightly, but beyond a sigh your breathing remains unchanged, and Kakashi presses a kiss to your shoulder, finally getting to see the peaceful relaxation in your face when he curls his front to your back. Like it’s completely natural, he eases his arm under your neck to cradle you close, and you only shift to accommodate him with a slumbering sigh.

You’re warm from sleep and he can smell your shampoo, trailing another kiss closer to your cheek, his hand appreciating the softness of your ass, dipping his fingers down between your thighs to stroke over your folds, pausing at how wet and sticky he finds them already to be.

“Oh…” He whispers against your skin, humming as he gently, tentatively, works your swollen folds apart. “Poor thing, taking care of yourself while I’m gone.” It’s warm and wet and silky, his two fingers quickly drenched just from the evidence of your past pleasure alone.

The tips of his fingers nudge your clit, and the tiniest sound leaves you, your head turning away from his, hips shifting. Kakashi hums softly, as if you can hear him, unable to help teasing you even in your sleep. “Mm? Are you still tender? Do I need to be gentle with you?”

The tacky, sticky sounds of his fingers nudging your clit is loud in the silence of the room. Your breathing catches, back curling into his chest with a croaky whimper. His cock, already firm and stiff, leaks against the cheek of your ass, his mouth opening to suck softly at the ball of your shoulder, his sleepy eyes drinking in the squish of your breasts caught against the curl of your arms, the shuffle of your thighs and instinctual twitch of your hips.

A warm, shaky exhale rolls over your arm and down your chest as Kakashi wiggles in to spoon as close to your sleep-warmed body as possible, stroking your wetness down the tip and length of him before he’s guiding his cock between the plush lips of your pussy. “I’ll always be gentle with you, sweet thing. Trusting me so much to do this… What a shame it would be to break it, hmm?”

You don’t respond to his musings, and Kakashi can only smile, narrowed eyes focused on your slumbering features as he pushes forward against your slick hole, his lips parting for a whispery groan as you slowly spread, your previous activities easing the way for the fat, flared head of him to slip inside. He’ll have to thank you for prepping yourself, even when you didn’t know that tonight would be the night of his return to you.

On missions, Kakashi can remain completely still for hours on end, whether it be in the silence of night, in harsh weather conditions, or reacting promptly to any attacks or opportunities that may arise in those moments. When it comes to you, Kakashi can barely hold back. His brow furrows, eyes squeezing shut and face pressed to your bared neck, as he inches the head of his cock against your hole, pressing forward into the gushy give of your pussy, feeling the slow, tight spread and the wet warmth that comes with it.

He’s quick to clumsily gather spit into his palm, slicking up the rest of his length, easing back and forth in tiny, languid thrusts until you start to squirm from the intrusion. He reaches around your hip once more to fondle your clit sweetly, pressing kisses to your cheek, whispering praise in your ear he hopes you hear in your dreams.

You gasp softly, and Kakashi watches the first flutter of your lashes as he slowly inches forward and back, going deeper and deeper, fingers swirling gently at your clit. You don’t awaken entirely, humming and shifting and digging your face into his pillow when he shushes you softly.

“Just take it, little girl, that’s it,” he breathes, eyes fluttering when he finally bottoms out, a low groan vibrating in his chest against your back, pressing a kiss to your temple, attempting to control his own breathing to keep from cumming too fast.

But he can’t stay still for long. Soon, Kakashi is rolling his hips back and thrusting forward, torturously and painfully slow, burying his nose into your hair to enjoy the clasp of your cunt, the closeness of you spooned back against him after so long, the luxury of the bed and the pussy and the person he’s been thinking about ever since he walked out the front door for his mission a month ago.

Your thighs tremble suddenly around his fingers, and you hiccup softly, whining long and low. Needy, slurring, you call for him. “‘Kashi…?”

God, how long it’s been since he heard you say his name. He moans softly in your ear, pressing a kiss against it that makes you shiver. Your limbs, heavy with sleep, hold at his arm when he holds you close. “Yeah baby, it’s me. It’s me.”

You moan sweetly, too held within the clutches of sleep to turn your head to him, but he doesn’t mind. Tomorrow, with a tummy full of cum and bright-eyed with his presence, you’ll cover him in kisses and do all the work while he lavishes in your attentions and moans, getting to watch the way your pretty body works while he relaxes for the first time in weeks while he wakes from his deeper slumber that he only gets at your side.

For now he selfishly takes, humming and groaning softly into your neck as his hips roll back and forth, pinching your clit gently between two wet fingers. You shake and gasp sweetly, murmuring unintelligibly into his pillow as he uses your sweet little pussy to his heart’s desire.

“Feels good?” His voice is deep and throaty, though he does his best to stay quiet, to not disturb you further in your slumber. Belatedly, you nod, arching with each wet thrust, each tender back and forth over your clit, insides throbbing wickedly. He groans again, smearing kisses over your shoulder and cheek, the arm under your neck shifting to affectionately grope one of your tits. “Oh, I know… I know…”

Your breathing picks up as he takes his time worshipping you in ways he missed so dearly while he was gone, whispering tickling praise across your temple and ear, lathering kisses over your nape and shoulder. He grinds his hips against the soft heaven of your ass and feels the gushy warmth take him to the hilt.

He swirls and strokes your clit when you suddenly gasp, his mismatched eyes fluttering open from his euphoric doze. A long, sweet, syrupy keen leaves you, your hips beginning to quake pushing back and jerking against the hold his hand has on you where he massages at your mons and clit.

Kakashi’s breath catches when you cum, holding you in place and whispering you praise once more. “That’s it, my sweet girl. Cum all you want, let me feel it after so long.”

A broken hum vibrates against his arm where your throat and mouth rest, a clumsy hand stroking at his forearm. Your body rocks softly with his pace and the tight to and fro of his cock moving in and out of your pussy, but it doesn’t seem to bother you at all.

It doesn’t take long for him to follow, so backed up and finally at ease and where he should be. With his mouth twisted into a pleasured grimace, brows furrowed while he hugs your soft body against his, the isolated grinds and thrusts of his hips against your ass getting a little rougher. He struggles to choke down his breathy, low moans as his cock thickens and twitches, burying himself deep into your warm pussy and dumping load after load of hot cum into you like he’s been thinking about doing since the mission was completed days ago.

You sigh happily while he nuzzles into your neck and hugs you tight against him, easing into his hold once more even while your pussy flutters in aftershocks he brought you.

Sweet and as you lose yourself to sleep once more, you mumble, “Welcome home, ‘Kashi…”

He huffs a sleepy, exhausted laugh against your shoulder, content to keep you plugged full of his cock and cum, curled up against your back as much needed sleep begins to catch up to him.

“M’home,” he murmurs, eyes closing and falling into a deep, warm slumber with you, cum slowly dripping out of you around his cock, pooling between your thighs and his.

But that’s a mess to clean in the morning.