đź â when you said you wanted to give him a handjob, kento never thought youâd leave him folding forward.
âyou wanna please me that bad?â he muttered earlier, almost amused, a little condescending. like he was entertaining you. like it wouldnât actually get to him.
you had asked so sweetly, tooââjust my hand, nanami. let me try?ââand heâd said yes with that quiet smirk, the kind that says iâm humoring you, sweetheart.
but now? now heâs sweating. legs shaking, mouth parted around something halfway between a moan and a breathless fuck as your hand works him in ruthless, slick strokes.
âh-haahâslow downââ he manages, voice breaking over the syllables, hand flying down to grip your wristâbut not to stop you. no, not really. heâs just trying to anchor himself, steady the tremble in his arms.
but you donât slow down. you squeeze instead.
âthought you said i could use it?â you purr, twisting your wrist just under the swollen head, watching him fold at the waist, hunched over like heâs bracing for impact. âwasnât this your idea?â
ânotâlike this,â he grits out, head bowed low, blonde hair sticking to his temples. his thighs are tense, spread wide, the muscles twitching as his cock pulses in your fist. he looks wrecked, like heâs holding onto every last thread of composure and itâs snapping right between your fingers. âfuckâfuck, youâre gonnaâmake me come againââ
âgood.â you brace yourself.
you stroke him harder, fasterâusing both hands now, spit-slick and mean, and he bucks into it with a noise youâve never heard from him before. his hips stutter, twitch, then try to pull backâhis whole body flinching from the oversensitivityâbut you donât let him. you grip him tighter, pump him through it like you own it.
ânot so cocky now, huh?â you whisper more to yourself but his ears twitch, catching your words.
he groansâloudly, like it punches out of his chestâhead tipping back as his cock jumps again, spilling more precum across your knuckles. you know heâs close. again. you can feel it: the way his abs clench, the hitch in his breath, the way he mumbles âshit, shit, shitâ like heâs trying to hold it in.
but he canât.
you make him come again anyway.
his whole body curls inward, hips jerking as you milk him through it, fist tight, relentless, squeezing every drop from him while he whimpers through gritted teeth. heâs so loud now, so desperate, gasping your name like heâs begging and doesnât even know what for.
and when you donât stopâwhen you keep going, still fisting him, still rubbing his tip rawâhe starts to shake. thighs trembling, breath hitching with every stroke, body instinctively trying to twist away.
âtoo much,â he breathes. âitâsâitâs too much, i canâtââ
but his cock is still twitching in your palm. still rock hard. still leaking. still yours.
so you smile, lips grazing his ear, and say,
âyes you can. you gave it to me, remember?â
and you donât stop until heâs gone.
until heâs quiet. twitching. fucked-out.
and no part of him remembers why he ever thought itâd be just a handjob.



















