ʬʬ﹒﹗﹐ gooner bf yuji against nnn. +18
yuji is a complete gooner for you and he doesn't even care.
everyone knows it and it’s a running joke among your group of friends, megumi calls him “goonji” sometimes when he wants to replace his usual “itadori”, but he couldn’t care less.
the walls of his rooms are covered in pictures of you, alongside of his wallpaper, his phone case, and he even got a small plushy who looks just like you (god knows for what reasons . . .) he’s just an obsessively in love boyfriend.
exactly what you love about him.
but yuji is also known for his ego. he thinks he’s the best at everything and will never back down in front of a challenge.
so when megumi swore he wouldn’t last a week during the no nut november, his enormous ego was hurt and he took it really seriously . . . a lil too much actually.
he refused to touch you, to invite you into his room or even to look at you when your outfits were too much for him, even his kisses were calculated, only 2 kisses per day.
and surprisingly, he lasted.
god knows how hard it was, how much he wanted to fuck his fist, to beat his red leaking tip, to wrap one of your underwear around his dick and cover it in white, but he lasted.
well . . . that was until you walked into his room on the last day, and suddenly he wasn’t feeling so confident.
“[name], what are you—“ you almost ripped a moan out of his mouth when you kissed him.
his back hitting the headboard of his bed as he try to softly push you back.
“babe— please . . . w-wait.”
you wrapped your arms around his neck straddling on his lap as you place yourself on his thighs slightly rubbing your damp panties on it.
“fuck . . . fuck, baby,” he complained but holds on your hips as you grind him like some desperate puppy.
you whined in his ears, begging him to touch you, to do something.
yuji bit his lower lip, eyebrows furrowed so much they almost touched and his face was tight like he was torn between the worst dilemma of his life.
“yuji . . . please, i need you . . . ngh—“
oh, he was gone. the wet patch on his long short growing bigger and bigger, alongside with the obscene sound of your floods.
schlack, schlack, schlack.
your moans filled his pretty head and woke up his manhood, now standing proud between the two of you, but you didn’t touch him, that’s where you drew the line because he will never forgive this traitorous act against his person.
suddenly he pinned you down on his soft mattress and made your drenched underwear fly away before he buried his face in the crook of your neck.
one of his hands holding your wrists on top of your head as he started rubbing his clothed cock against your bare pussy like a mad man.
“oh my gooood— i missed you . . . fuck,” he groaned in you neck.
the fabric of his shorts creating the perfect itch on your cunt, pressed under the weight of your boyfriend.
you wrapped your legs around him, bringing him impossibly closer, trying to reach your peak.
yuji bites your neck and licks it to ease the pain, the bed rocking with his movements but thankfully he knew better by now to place a pillow between the wall and his bed, after megumi almost killed him for ruining his night.
“i-i’m gonna . . .” he said and you kissed his neck too, probably his biggest weakness.
he buried even deeper and let out a long stretchy moan that seemed to go on forever as he came in his shorts, white stripes coming out to paint your shirt.
for a long moment, there was only the sound of heavy breathing and the slow, wet drip of his cum soaking into your shirt, the weight of him was a comfort, a grounding force.
slowly, he went limp, his body collapsing onto you fully, he was a warm, heavy blanket of muscle and satisfaction.
he nuzzled lazily into your neck, placing a soft, apologetic kiss over the bite mark.
“m’sorry,” he mumbled, his voice thick, “got your shirt all messy.”
you wriggled your hands free from his now-lax grip and brought them down to card through his sweaty pink hair.
“it’s okay, you lost, though. gumi owes me a hundred bucks now.”
he went very still, then with a sluggish effort, he pushed himself up on his elbows, looking down at you.
his face was flushed a deep pink, his eyes hazy but slowly clearing, a droplet of sweat trailed from his temple down his jaw.
“you . . . made a bet out of me?” his voice was quieter now, but there was a new note in it.
you nodded, grinning up at him, proud of your cleverness, “uh-huh, easy money.”
his gaze didn’t waver, the sweet, post-orgasm softness in his eyes was being rapidly replaced by a sharp, calculating glint.
then slow, dangerous smile spread across his face, “check the time, though.”
the smug confidence in his tone made your grin falter, you tilted your head, glancing over at the digital alarm clock on his nightstand.
The bright red numbers glowed in the dark room.
by thirty-five minutes, he’d won no nut november.
“oh,” he echoed, his voice dropping to that low, intimate rumble that did things to your insides. “my very own girlfriend tried to sabotage me.”
“i mean . . . it was working?” but the bratty defiance was weak, undercut by the way your body was already responding to his energy.
“now you’re in my room, on the first of december, and you’re not wearing any underwear . . . what should i do with you?”
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