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g00miato · 3 months ago

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my god...

Summary: Fat Gum (Taishiro Toyomitsu) x Reader (MDNI!)

An addition to my original fic (Part 1 and Part 2), Part 3 is inspired by these stunning artworks, created by @radish-breath

and @g00miato for my birthday.

Please support and reblog the works of these amazingly talented artists!

Thank you both for the inspiration for this (admittedly very smutty) chapter, and for appreciating the embodiment of sunshine, Fat Gum!

Contents: Romance, smut, humour, established relationship

Warnings: Explicit sexual content, mutual masturbation, fingering, vaginal sex, mirror sex, food play, spanking.

Time had gotten the better of you, once again. You'd vowed to yourself that today wouldn't be one of those occasions, when phone call blended into phone call, when the endless train of paperwork formed tracks like shackles that bound you to your desk well beyond your regular hours.

And yet, here you were.

As the co-ordinating officer of Fat Gum Agency, you'd contributed your fair share of time and effort into its establishment. You'd been a fixture since the very beginning, one who'd become gradually indispensable.

There was certainly no other hero you'd rather work for. Fat Gum had a distinctly clear vision of how hero work should occur and every action he took was geared towards serving the community. Of course, you'd had enough time, over the years, to fully appreciate his other qualities, as a hero, and as a man.

You'd always been aware of your feelings for him, as inevitable as they were. Your professionalism had led you to avoid those thoughts completely when in his presence. Until recently, that was.

On one work night, not long ago, your patient vigil at the office to make sure Taishiro returned safely had led to you spending the night at his apartment. Which, in turn, had led to other revelations, such as his own feelings of attraction toward you. And that, in turn, had led to ...

One of those all-encompassing flushes, the kind that suffuses your body from head to toe with the keenest, most heady quality of delirium, makes itself known. You clear your throat in the silent office.

No, nobody's here. Nobody has noticed your debauched thoughts.

How embarrassing. Your reaction is understandable, though, given what occurred at Taishiro's apartment that night.

In short, you'd slept together, and it had been ... incredible. He'd been everything you'd imagined he'd be; attentive, warm, passionate, clumsy, endearing, tender and ...

You still worked at the same office, trying to maintain some semblance of professionalism in spite of it all. He was still Fat Gum, and you were still his trusty employee. This new dynamic was not easy to navigate, but you both had been managing to sit down for meals together, to touch each other's fingertips in passing, to make a different kind of eye contact across the room, to spend brief nights of ecstasy in each other's arms.

That's where things stood at this moment, and you couldn't ask for more. You just wished, that in-between the hectic pace of hero work, you could get to spend a leisurely afternoon with the man you cared about, and desired, so deeply.

Sighing, you put away the contracts you'd been reviewing and stood to stretch sore muscles. A tell-tale buzz nearby alerted you to your phone ringing. Speaking of the man ...

Smiling, you answered, your tired voice carrying the soft hush of intimacy, knowing that you had the office to yourself.

"Hello, handsome."

"Darlin', please tell me you're not still - "

"I'm just rounding up the contracts! I had to- "

"You put that away before I come over there and carry you back in the Fat Taxi."

"You sound so bossy tonight, Taishiro."

"You're damn right. I got a little somethin' ... just come home."

His bashful hesitancy combined with his stern, reprimanding tone created a wholly new flame in the pit of your stomach.

"That sounds ... intriguing. Let me pack up and I'll be there right away, sir."

The soft flirtation doesn't fail to have its desired response. Taishiro's voice sounds a little tight with anticipation.

"Can hardly wait."

Outside, the night air is cold and abrasive against your cheeks and the tip of your nose. You hurry towards Taishiro's apartment, a few blocks away from the agency, stopping briefly at the seven eleven to pick up some snacks. As much as he keeps an exceptionally well-stocked kitchen, you know that he loves receiving food that you've bought or prepared for him (especially if you end up feeding it to him).

You take the elevator up to his floor, hearing the faint sound of the electric mixer as you approach the door.

All right, so he really was preparing something.

The door is unlocked when you try the handle. He must have seen you leave on the the agency security feed. His voice drifts down the wide passageway, and you raise your head slightly, taking in the delectable aroma of Taishiro's baking. You slip off your coat and shoes, setting aside the bag from the seven eleven.

What on earth was he -

"Hey, you gonna hang around in the hall all day?"

Turning to greet him, your words die in your throat. The warm light spilling from the haven that is Taishiro's kitchen outlines the powerful, hefty lines of his body as he stands shirtless in the passage, the elasticated waist of a pair of orange boxers sitting low on broad hips.

The stray curls and flicked edges of his golden hair form a burnished landscape that your fingers itch to explore. His expansive stomach hangs slightly over the edge of the boxers, a coarse trail of darkened hair tracking down, down, disappearing under the orange waistband.

He is making his way towards you now, those brawny arms reaching for you and you find yourself buried in them before your thoughts gather enough to tell you how you ended up there in the first place.

His huff of laughter blows through your hair, the incredible strength and warmth of his embrace lifting you right off the ground as he picks you up and spins you slightly. When you pull back, you see that pleased expression he tries so hard (and fails) to hide. His voice is slightly gruff, focused as he is on how close you are pressed against him.

"So, you're a princess at heart, huh?"

"Your cooking is good enough to disrupt a magically induced coma, that's for sure."

"Hmm. Almost good enough to deserve a reward, ya think?"

His lips are the panacea you've been craving all day, and as they move firmly and eagerly against yours, you can vaguely sense that he is carrying you towards the kitchen. You slide down his front, turning to see what he has been working on.

Oh.

There is a cake on a rotating stand, surrounded by a small mess of flour, icing and various shaping and mixing implements. Large, ripe strawberries, halved down the centre, stand out in a luscious band at the centre, bright red jewels against the mint green and white of the frosting, all topped with the most succulent cherries you've ever seen.

Taishiro is silent for a minute, as if trying to guage your response to the cake. He clears his throat.

"Uh, yeah, you know how it was your birthday last week and we didn't do much, 'cos of that business with the train attack and all. Well, I thought it would be nice to just ... have something small. A proper celebration. Just us."

"Taishiro ... "

The way you tug him into you, placing kisses all over his slightly flour-coated cheeks, across the softness of his generous mouth, taking his lower lip gently between your teeth, kindles a soft flame in those tawny eyes of his. He inhales sharply before setting you apart from him.

"Hey now. I want you to appreciate this cake I've been working so hard on. Nobody ever told you how dangerous it is to distract the baker?"

Your smile is sly.

"How dangerous, exactly?"

"Like baiting a shark, angel. Once we get the scent, we ain't gonna stop."

"The scent of sugar?"

Those lambent eyes of his drop dangerously low, dragging down the curves of your body in a way that you can almost feel, lower than the husky timbre of his voice.

"I think the syrup is what sets us off."

"Now who's being risky?"

Trying to disguise the pleasant shudder his words set off all down the core of you, you take two side plates from the cupboard above you, setting them close by.

"May I have the honor of cutting this cake, sir?"

"Don't you wanna blow out some candles?"

"I'm too hungry!"

"Geez, look at ya. Appetite's getting as big as mine."

He winks and produces a large knife, the handle wrapped in a pink ribbon, with a flourish.

"All yours."

You cut two large slices out, placing them carefully on each plate. Taishiro eats his with his fingers, cream coating his cheek and palm, while you carve out a fair-sized bite with a fork. The sponge is moist, perfectly baked and rich, the cream surprisingly light and airy. The berries layered between provide an explosive burst of delightful sweetness on your tongue.

"Taishiro ... this is incredible!"

"Yeah? Followed a recipe from a bakery I go to a lot. They offered to make it for me, but I ... well. Kinda wanted to make it myself, ya know? And added a few of my own little tweaks to it."

He looks so proud, chin jutting slightly as he licks traces of pale, sugary cream from his fingers, that you can't really help yourself. You lean forward and kiss him soundly, pausing to card your fingers through his hair. He glances over at you, that tell-tale bashfulness, so incongruous on a stalwart hero like him, asserting itself in the slow flush that creeps along his exposed chest and rounded cheeks.

"What did I say about distracting me?"

"I'm not doing any such thing."

"Yes, you are."

"It's only a kiss, Taishiro. Or ... is that too much for you to handle?"

The mischievous smile is swept clean off your face as he promptly lifts you off the ground again, precariously balancing the slice of cake in his other hand.

"Now, sweetheart, you ain't gotta tell me twice. If you want me to enjoy both of ya'll at once, you know I'm more than capable."

Your eyes widen slightly at the implication.

"Wait - "

"Too late for regrets."

The shake of repressed laughter rippling through his stomach belies the serious tone of his voice. The bedroom door swims into your vision as your own amusement bubbles up from your throat.

"What exactly are you planning?"

"Having my starter, main course and dessert all at the same time."

He doesn't carry you over to the bed, as you expected. Instead, he drops you off near the large dresser on one end of the bedroom. Somehow, during this rapid transition, he'd managed to tip your slice of cake onto his plate. You turn, raising an eyebrow at him as he perches himself on the end of the bed, a full few feet away from you.

"How are you going to reach me from way over there?"

"Undress for me."

The command is unusual in its direct nature, sending a spike of heat through you. Choosing not to question the direction this is taking, you slide off your sweater and jeans, facing away from him as you unhook your bra. Not that it matters. He can see all of you in the wide mirror that spans the top of the dresser.

Maintaining eye contact with his reflection, you pull off the bra and drop it to one side. It hits the plush rug with a muffled thump. Taishiro leans back, another chunk of cake caught between his fingers. He slides it into his mouth, the intensity of his gaze never leaving your form.

"You've still got something on there, sweetheart."

"You mean these?"

Your fingers slide down your sides, catching on the elastic of your underwear. Still facing the mirror, you slide it down, down, past the flare of your hips, the rounded softness of your buttocks, letting the fabric temporarily pool between your thighs before letting it drop down around your ankles.

Taishiro is chewing more slowly, throat bobbing as he swallows thickly. His voice now carries that weight of arousal, the kind that you love to hear when he's on top of you, eyes glazed and sweat coating both your bodies.

"Yeah, those. Let me see, angel."

The central heating of the apartment doesn't quite take away the chill in the air, and your nipples perk slightly under the attention you give them, rubbing, cupping beneath their softness, letting him see the bounce of your flesh as you grip them slightly, slowly bending forward. Your new posture directly exposes what's between your legs, the glistening folds parting slightly under your questing fingers as you give Taishiro the show he asked for.

A low, guttural groan escapes his throat. One of his hands has slid down into the orange boxers, pulling himself free, that thick length that's stretched you so well, that's made you cry with incoherent pleasure so many times, now slowly sliding through the enclosure of his grasp. Your breathing quickens when you realise that he still hasn't relinquished the cake, his large tongue slowly teasing cream from between his fingers as he strokes himself.

"Taishiro ... "

"Touch yourself. Let me see it, sweetheart. Show me how ... "

His instructions cut off as you bend over further, gripping the dresser, bottom lip caught hard between your teeth as you gently press a finger into yourself. You're surprised at how wet you already are, and so is Taishiro, judging from the grunt that escapes him.

"Oh, look at you. Wanna come over there and - "

He doesn't complete that thought, instead palming himself a little faster, sliding another bite of cake into his mouth. In spite of all the things that you've already done in the bedroom, Taishiro has never quite shown you just how much his appetite for food matches his appetite for you. The idea of this makes you shudder harder, breath now exiting you in slow, shallow gasps as you sink your fingers deeper, searching for the angle he prefers that has you screaming his name.

The slick sounds of your fingers and his own rapid stroking are loud in the erotic hush of his bedroom. Behind you, you hear the tell-tale rip of the condom wrapper as he prepares himself for you.

You open yourself to his view, on tiptoes, thighs splayed apart, letting him see how you're edging yourself through each cloudy strata of pleasure, ascending to the next. Hand braced against the firm wood of the dresser, your eyes slide open, taking in your own flushed and aroused countenance in the mirror, your slightly parted lips, the sight of him, behind you, so substantial, large, ready to take you. You are suddenly struck with the dire need to have him on you, in you, to end this teasing...

"Taishiro ... "

The pleading in your tone is different, has a new note of urgency. He stands immediately, and you utter a short gasp of eagerness when you feel the heat of body against yours.

And then his hand traces a cool, sticky downward line, leaving a trail of cream that follows the curved length of your spine. You yelp slightly, slapping against his abdomen.

"Are you - "

His soft laughter tickles the skin at the side of your neck, breath washing over you, heightening your sensitivity.

"I'm gonna eat you all up, darlin'."

And he does.

You feel like you're being devoured from the inside out as his hot, hot mouth comes down on the skin of your shoulder, lapping, tasting, biting just hard enough to leave faint marks behind. Traces of the cake smear down your side and stomach as he finally maps the curves of your body with a firm touch that grounds you and sends your senses into a spiral you know you won't come down from until ...

The hand that is still free of cake and cream cups gently between your legs, and you gasp, stretch your thighs apart more, grinding down to gain more of the sensation. His fingers are big, strong, calloused, their searing heat pressing upward against your clitoris, applying the pressure you've been craving.

More choked cries escape you as as he pushes you forward under the substantial weight of his form, his belly pressing into your lower back. He moans loudly as you are forced forward and down, body splaying across the dresser, and his broad tongue laps at you, at the sugary strokes of white he has painted you with.

The ample softness of your buttocks is squeezed, stroked, smeared as well. Between your spread thighs, the hardness of his erection bobs and prods at you, sliding against your folds. Your soft gasps raise suddenly to a scream as his large palm comes down on you, the quiver of your soft, spread cheeks a testament to the heftiness of the smack he's given you.

His body lifts off yours momentarily, soft hair tickling your lower back as he plants his mouth firmly over the curve of your buttocks, suckling, biting, soothing the flesh that's been driven to a dusky flush by the slap of his palm.

He licks more traces of the cream from you, before raising his hand and dealing two more playful, eager slaps to your skin, lust-drunk eyes taking in the way your mouth falls open, the way you clutch at the dresser and beg him for more. Each breathless plea is punctuated by the erotic clap of his hand against you, the soft grunts that escape him as his broad tongue leaves your skin coated in a veneer of his saliva.

"Taishi - iro - ah! Please, want you so bad. Want you - oh God - in me now. Fuck me."

"Hmm. Taste so good, my honeybee. So sweet. I'm gonna ... God, fuck, gonna fuck your sweet pussy till you can't take it anymore."

"I'll do whatever you want, please, Taishiro, just - "

His fingers beneath your chin turn your head firmly toward him, cutting off your words with a soft, wet sound as his lips find yours. The kiss reminds you of the feelings he harbours for you, rich in desire, but tempered by sweetness, by the heavy weight of longing from evenings you've spent without each other.

A breathless sound of passion escapes your throat as he deepens the kiss, tongue thrusting into your mouth, feeling the building dampness trickle down your chin, away from the increasing urgency of his mouth, the way his cock presses harder against your folds, testing the give of your entrance.

Only he can make you feel like this, effortlessly breaking down all boundaries of propriety, filling you with an ache that drives you to animalistic lengths of desire, all while keeping you anchored to the vital, all-encompassing warmth and generosity of his love.

He separates from you, a string of saliva connecting your lips, hungrily absolved by his tongue as he licks a stripe from your lips up to the corner of your ear. You know how much he loves seeing you like this, debauched, panting, hair in disarray, your peaked nipples pressing against the caress of his hands. The tender quality of his voice is smoked through with desperation, with his own hunger for you.

"You ain't gotta beg me, sweetheart. You know I'll give it to you just how you like."

You feel his grasp just beneath your knee before it is pushed up, propped on the surface of the dresser. Your scramble for purchase on the smoothness of the mirror, your chest pushing forward against the cool glass, a deep contrast to the surge of his heated skin against yours from behind.

"Gonna take it for me, angel?"

"Yes, yes, fill me now. Want you in me."

The rut of your hips backward against his sets off another round of hard smacks, pleasured yelps exiting you as you press forward, breath fogging against the glass. Then his soft exhalation is tracing the shell of your ear, the scrape of fine, golden stubble against your shoulder, the grip of his hands vice-like between the folds of your waist as he holds you in place and rocks his pelvis forward.

A loud cry escapes you as the wide head of his cock breaches you, sliding forward with ease after how slick his play has made you. He edges slowly in, taking his time, the burning stretch of accommodating his size now a sensation you are well accustomed to. Neck arching, you whimper slightly as he whispers encouragement and praise to you, sheathing himself partway before sliding slowly back out.

He sets up a steady rhythm, rocking you forward against the dresser, each movement of your joined bodies in tandem with the knock knock of the wood against the wall. You breathing is rapidly accelerating, huffing out of you in damp patches of condensation against the mirror. The depth, the heat, the size of him inside you always snatches away your breath with the sheer magnitude of it all.

Taishiro slows his pace, adjusting your position, hitching your raised leg higher. He starts to slam into you with weighted precision, each thrust calculated, hard, laden with intention.

"Look. Look at yourself."

Half delirious with pleasure, you follow his panted instructions, lashes fluttering as you behold the reflection of Taishiro behind you, his large form completely dominating your own as you rock forward, tears spiling from the corners of your eyes, dampness trailing from the edge of your lips.

He groans loudly as your lust-blown gaze meets his, at the way you arch your back, the way you tilt forward further, presenting yourself to him.

"Fuck, look so fucking good. Can hardly ... ah! Like that, angel. Squeeze me harder. Here - "

His large fingers, still covered in traces of cream, find their way to your parted lips. You take them into your mouth eagerly, moaning around them, swirling your tongue around the digits in time with his thrusts. Your own saliva is now trickling down your chin, an echo of the slick ropes of arousal that have descended from where his cock splits you open, spilling over the surface of the dresser beneath your joined bodies.

Taishiro always has this effect on you, making you so wet, so sensitive to every blissful physical sensation he gives. His pace is now picking up, the slam of the dresser into the wall loud enough that you're glad his apartment has some measure of sound proofing for privacy. You clutch at the top of the mirror, crying out for him to fuck you, keep fucking you, yes, please, like that and harder and -

Your orgasm crashes over you like a tidal wave, sweeping every coherent thought from your mind in a flood of building, peaking, blinding pleasure. You are aware that soft, raspy cries are escaping you, mingled with the mindless muttering of Taishiro as he stills his movements.

He calms you, let's you ride out the post-coital haze with soft, shallow thrusts, whispering soothing words into the warm skin of your shoulder. You catch sight of him in the mirror, the tendons standing out on his neck as he controls himself, half mad with the sensations you're giving him.

He hasn't come yet.

Slowly, you drop your raised leg to the floor, backing away from the mirror and leaning both elbows firmly on the supportive surface of the dresser. You bring your thighs together, crossing your ankles, watching as his eyes fly open at the sudden tightness around his length.

"Angel, what are you - "

You raise a hand above you, reaching back towards him, laying a silencing finger on his lips.

"Shhh. Just feel me."

Using your forearms and elbows as leverage, you slide along his length, until just the tip remains. Your muscles flutter and tighten, squeezing the bulbous head, before you sheathe him in you again. Each movement sets dull traces of stimulation racing through your already satiated nerves. The sensations are far more intense for Taishiro.

His face is scarlet, contorted with concentrated pleasure, mindless pleas and curses mingling in incoherent phrases as he takes up his punishing pace again, giving as well as you take. The wet sounds of your joining are louder, as is the slap of his flesh against yours. His grip on you is now relentless, and you watch as he squirms, thrashes, begs you for more as you undulate along his slick length.

He comes with a roar, chest flushed and heaving, the marks of his fingers imprinted in the flesh of your hips. He bucks into you deeply, the warmth expanding along the tip of the condom making you shudder with delight.

There are no words spoken into the hushed aftermath of passion like this, nothing that can quite encompass the sheer magnitude of what happens between the both of you, every time. Taishiro drags your limp form backwards, against his chest, whispering words of tenderness that are secret to all but the two of you.

He leads you to the bed, disregarding the mess that lovemaking has made of the both of you, his arms coming up around your middle as he cradles you in his lap. Your fingers find their way into his soft, soft hair, as they always do.

After a few minutes, you're finally capable of speech. As always, after pleasuring each other senseless, conversation occurs in fits and starts, where the rhythm that built between your bodies seems to enable the completion of each other's sentences.

"I suppose this makes up for ... "

"I'll say."

"Maybe I'll ... stay later at the office. So you can ..."

"Dont you dare even ... "

"Hmm. But it's ..."

"Not worth it. No."

Your heady laugh sounds sweeter to him than the finest confection.

"Taishiro ... is there any cake left?"

"Still hungry?"

You shift in his lap, eyes drinking him in, tracing over his unruly hair, the misted look in his eyes that only you are privy to, the generous mouth that you'd never grow tired of kissing.

All of him.

All yours.

"A little."

"Sweetheart, you're gonna be the death of me."

"Keep baking like that, and I might just spare you."

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g00miato · 3 months ago

Note

Hello! I am a fanfic writer and a "cover artist", basically someone who creates covers to attract more readers, on the Spirit Fanfics platform, I write a lot for the JJK fandom and Naruto. Overall, pretty much in the 2D category, anime, games…

I would like to formally ask (and know if you would let me) to use your Jujutsu Kaisen art for fanfic covers. I loved Nanami's art!

I WILL NOT repost it anywhere like social media, it is only for use on this platform Spirit or Wattpad, which is another one where I write and people ask me for covers too but much more rarely.

None of this is for profit; it is amateur and personal. And I will not modify your artistic features in the fanart either. The credits are visible on these covers, but I can also attach a link that leads to your profile.

You can see examples of these covers at ➡️ namicchin.weebly.com, and from other artists from various fandoms who have also authorized me to use their own art at ➡️ ipermarts.carrd.com.

Hiiiii!

Sorry for the delay, I have no problem with people using my art in their fics as long as they give me credits. (Thank you very much for asking first btw 💖)

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g00miato · 3 months ago

Text

white turtleneck ✨

#jjk #jujutsu kaisen #jjk fanart #jujutsu kaisen fanart #nanami kento

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g00miato · 3 months ago

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A little of what I did for HiguNana week on Twitter 💖

#jjk #jujutsu kaisen #jjk fanart #nanami kento #higuruma hiromi #higunana

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g00miato · 3 months ago

Note

I LOVE HOW YOU DRAW NANAMIN OMG?? YOUR ART IS SO PRETTY THANK YOUUUUUUUU

AAAAAHHHH THANK UUUU

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g00miato · 3 months ago

Text

me fr

You and Nanami decide to edge Hiromi to the verge of tears. content warning: smut, porn without plot, fem!reader, nanami x higuruma x reader, the roaring bisexuality agenda, piv, anal sex (m receiving), a few tears of frustration, overstimulation, teasing, soft dom!nanami. Roughly proofread. 2k.

"Stop teasing me and just do it!" Hiromi complained with a strained voice, words tumbling out of his lips in between whimpers. His arms were tensed, his hands bound behind his back by Nanami's signature yellow and black splattered tie, and small droplets of sweat smeared his temples as the back of his head rested on Nanami's shoulder. Hiromi's toes and feet curled nearly strongly enough to cramp, and his entire body shuddered violently.

You and Nanami shared a playful look, as you kept sliding your pussy over Hiromi's cock without ever letting it go past your entrance, and Nanami pressed just the tip of his length over Hiromi's hole, before retreating and repeating the same movement, again and again. The lawyer was at the mercy of you both, and got driven to the edge of overstimulation with all the teasing and denial.

Hiromi was sure he'd die out of sheer frustration as discreet tears pooled on his black eyelashes.

"Already? But we've been here for only a few minutes..." Nanami remarked with a hint of irony in his voice, his hand sliding up Hiromi's torso to hold the man's jaw.

"H-half an hour-" Hiromi replied breathless, before whining and scrunching his eyes shut when his tip's edge got caught under your folds. "P-please, I'm begging you both, I c-can't-"

You let out a soft chuckle in between your own pants and huffs, leaning forward to capture Nanami's mouth in a sloppy kiss that wasn't much more than tongue and saliva while you both sandwiched Hiromi in between your sweaty bodies. Your perked nipples brushed over Hiromi’s chest, and it was your turn to whimper into Nanami's mouth, robbing him of a leisurely grunt before you parted lips. As you did, you noticed his half lidded eyes simmering on some kind of need you were sure to be reflected in your own gaze.

You and Nanami were both already pretty wound up, too.

"Ask nicely and we'll do it," Nanami whispered against Hiromi's ear, before turning the man's face towards his own and thrusting his tongue inside Hiromi's mouth, earning him a sequence of delightful little whines and whimpers. A single tear of frustration rolled down Hiromi's cheek, while Nanami mindlessly pressed the tip of his cock once more against the lawyer's entrance. By this point, after so much grinding and lube, both condoms and a good portion of Hiromi's ass were all covered in slick.

The wet smacks of their lips combined with the scene of the two kissing sent a feverish throb directly to your core, and you mindlessly sunk the tip of his shaft past your ring. Hiromi immediately let out a loud moan into Nanami's mouth, and separated from the kiss in a sudden motion. His gaze went directly towards you, and his eyes begged for more.

"Love, my love, p-please-" His pleas came strained, almost in a high pitch, as his hips began thrusting softly in an effort to push his cock deeper into you. After so much teasing, you could feel every ridge of it trying to bully inside your dripping pussy, and with a loud moan, you finally caved, sinking completely on Hiromi's cock, his tip brushing against your cervix the moment he bottomed out.

His head dangled back, mouth falling open to let out the strangled voice of a man who had just received deliverance. In response, you cried out his name, entwining your fingers over the nape of his neck.

Nanami scoffed, a discreet smile pulling on his cheek, his voice filled with a half-hearted chide.

"You both crumble so easily..." he teased, his own pants in between his words betraying just how close he was to crumble down just as easy. With his hands, Nanami swiftly pulled on one end of the tie, freeing one of Hiromi's hands. In sequence, he commanded, "lay down, you two."

Hiromi didn't need to be told twice, and pushed you down beneath him on the bedsheets, plunging his cock as far as it would go into your walls while clashing his lips to yours. You moaned and mewled into his mouth, feeling the delicious stretch from having him inside you, and drew your nails down his back, marking him with pretty red lines all over his skin.

From his privileged viewpoint, Nanami watched as you both fucked, and pondered if he'd prefer to just sit back and watch. Hiromi was clearly pussy drunk, and you weren't fending off any better, not knowing if you should press your body against his or sink into the mattress as he dicked you down into it.

However, Nanami's twitching cock begged to differ, and he plastered his hands on Hiromi's waist, halting the other man's movements.

"Stay still," he ordered, much to your complaint. Hearing your frustrated whine, Nanami chided, "You two are incorrigible."

Not wasting any time, Nanami leaned forward, teasing the tip of two fingers on Hiromi’s entrance. With a whimper against your cheek, Hiromi involuntarily bucked his hips, dragging his cock inside your cunt. You whined, turning your face to press your lips against his once again. To hold him in place, Nanami reached out his other hand to hold the man’s waist.

“I said still.”

Collecting some lubrication left on the area from earlier, Nanami slowly inserted one finger, stretching Hiromi’s walls. The burning sensation prickled Hiromi’s eyes with tears, and you brought your hands up, thumbing the tiny droplets away from his eyelashes.

“Oh, Kento… go easy on him”, you cooed, peppering kisses all over Hiromi’s face. His brows furrowed, his cheeks flustered, his mouth agape letting out tiny sounds, and his eyes sealed shut morphed into one of the most beautiful things you had ever seen.

“I am going easy, I’m even warming him up,” Nanami replied, a minute smile flashing through his lips as he carefully inserted the second finger. His touch was tentative and deliberate, massaging Hiromi from within, each second of it driving the man a little more wild.

“You know, I only told him to be still.” Nanami’s voice sounded curiously playful, as you looked up and saw his eyes burning into you. “You can move.”

You immediately understood what he was suggesting, and Hiromi had just about enough time to crack his eyes slightly open before you started to roll your hips against his. He moaned and instantly approached to kiss you, but you covered his mouth with one of your hands, smiling coyly at him.

With his body all hot and warm and cold and quivery everywhere, Hiromi was absolutely sure at that moment that you and Nanami were trying to kill him, and he was sure he’d die.

Well… There were worse ways to go.

“Fuck me, please, I c-can’t stand this any longer. I’ll- aaah, ah- God…” Hiromi’s voice came muffled through your fingers, his hot breath moistening your skin. He blabbered away in despair, while Nanami’s grip tightly against his waist kept him from burying himself into you or humping back on Nanami’s fingers.

It was torture all over again.

With an amused huff, Nanami finally pulled his fingers out of Hiromi. He quickly propped himself up and leaned himself over, having his cock sliding over where he had his fingers pumping in seconds before.

With a firm movement, he pressed his tip right through the initial resistance, easing himself inside Hiromi. In small pumps, Nanami made sure to slide himself inside as gently as possible, even though the prior relentless teasing would suggest otherwise. On your end, filled up to the brim and face to face with the brunette you and Nanami had tortured for the past God knows how many minutes, you saw Hiromi's eyes roll back into his skull as he let out the most intense, gut-wrenching, lewd moan you had ever heard falling out of his lips.

If there had been any thoughts in his mind, they were sure as hell all gone by now.

You uncovered his mouth while all the three of you began rocking each other's bodies, trying to find a rhythm, and shoved your tongue inside Hiromi's mouth without much other than hunger and desperation. His moans and whines reverberated inside your own, all over your tongue and sending a second heart beat directly into your pussy. Oh, God.

Nanami descended over Hiromi's body, and began nibbling, biting, kissing and sucking the skin in between his shoulder blades, all the way up to his neck. Nanami had his eyes screwed shut in the most blissful stupor you had ever seen on his face, his mouth agape, letting out a few gasps and low groans, few and not-so-far in between. He had one of his hands holding onto the bed headboard, and was absolutely sure he would end up tearing it off solely on brute force if he wasn't careful enough.

The entire room filled with the lewd sounds of your sweat glistened bodies slapping and sliding against each other, your and Hiromi's moans and whimpers mingling into one single symphony, and Nanami – arguably the only one who still held onto any sliver of sanity – only barely registered the sound of dragging wood. Perhaps the bed rocking on the floor, who the hell knew at this point.

Hiromi's cock was plunged inside you, and he moved his hips in between thrusting himself deeper into you and having Nanami filling him on pure instinct. If someone had asked him his name at that moment, he wouldn't know what words were. The way he pressed against your pubic mound and clit were dragging you towards your orgasm pretty fast, especially considering you were buried under the two hottest men you knew, but the way his length throbbed and pulsed inside – as well as his completely fucked out and messy face – made it evident you would not beat him to it.

In a few moments, his entire body jolted and shuddered in convulsive movements that had Nanami coming back to Earth just to slowly still his movements as Hiromi reached his peak. Brain fog wasn't a strong enough expression to convey Hiromi's state of mind – it was as if his brain had melted and dripped out of his ears with each spurt of white, hot, thick cum that filled the condom as he sloppily still tried to keep pumping himself into you. His face was buried in the crook of your neck, and he bit you down as if to hold you in place like prey, robbing you of a whimper.

"I… I need…" was all that Hiromi managed to whisper, his voice gruff and low, completely spent. His hand made its way behind towards Nanami, who gently slid himself out of Hiromi, having the man quiver as soon as he was done, falling to your side.

Pent-up. Even though Hiromi had seen the face of God and came with all the might a human body was able to withstand without perishing, Nanami was still very much in need, like a stranded traveler in sandy deserts craving a glass of water. He pulled his condom out and collapsed in between you and Hiromi, sighing deeply while he covered his eyes with his forearm, the angst of a stilted orgasm still lingering in his pained expression.

He dove one of his hands towards his cock, but you promptly held it, biting his jaw with a mischievous smile. Much to Nanami's surprise – who expected Hiromi to have fainted – the other man rolled towards him, encircling his own fingers around Nanami's length, planting a few kisses down his neck.

"Your turn."

End notes: Shoutout to whoever wrote this KusaHiguNana masterpiece that inspired my unholy thoughts (link here).

written by tsukimefuku ㋡ comments and reblogs are appreciated. do not copy, translate or repost. copycatting is for losers.

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g00miato · 3 months ago

Text

content warning: soft Aizawa x Reader, spoilers for season 6 of the anime, hurt and comfort, some fluff, roughly proofread. just a little something to get me off the writing rut. 1.1k

With a long-drawn sigh, Aizawa slouched back into the teacher’s lounge sofa, stretching his own leg forward as he mindlessly covered the eye patch with one of his hands. You wondered if his movement was propelled by a force of habit to scratch his phantom eye.

You had been catching up to speed on all the plans the pro heroes had made for what could only be dubbed as the D day. All the tireless, collective efforts to save Japan from more heartache and destruction. They had suffered enough — you all had.

At that moment, as your colleague draped his arms over the sofa, you couldn’t help but picture in him the figure of a hero Atlas carrying the weight of the world on his back.

Oxygen calmly came in and out of your nostrils, but somehow, your chest tightened as the room grew quieter after Aizawa’s sigh. The few stray rays of a setting sun cast on both of you the fleeting warmth of the calm before the storm, such as the bated breath from a last night on Earth.

“Hey,” you said, your voice lower than usual, barely above a whisper.

He hummed in return, still with his head dangling back in between his worn down shoulders, as he gazed past through the ceiling.

“You seem tired,” you concluded, mentally facepalming yourself with the stupidity of the obvious. Of course he was. You were too. The entirety of the UA was. “I…” you tried offering something else in earnest, but your voice trailed off to silence, only adding to the somber discomfort as the sun drew nearer to the horizon and darkness began slowly seeping into the lounge.

“I know,” he replied, tilting his head forward to look at you, fully aware that there was nothing much else to say in such circumstances. The dark circle under his eye hinted that tiredness was probably the only feeling his weary self could muster up to bear at that moment.

Ever since your high school days, when you weren’t much more than a teenager with a silly crush on your grumpy classmate and a chip on your shoulder, you had never seen Aizawa look so exhausted. Not during the exams you took together, not when you became teachers and pro heroes with gnarly working hours, not even after spending weeks in the hospital.

He looked decades older than himself.

You stepped towards Aizawa while sparing him a smile and stood in front of him, tilting your head down to meet his gaze.

“You’re looking like shit.”

A soft smile pulled on his cheek, which instantly brought you some semblance of comfort. These smiles from him — a rare occurrence, as you’d learned quickly during your first week of classes at UA with him eons ago — always did.

“Right back at you,” he replied, leaning forward on his knees with his elbows.

You chuckled, and he huffed, still with that smile on his face before it faded. His usual nonchalant expression was slightly tainted with the preoccupation of a teacher. You knew, you had seen that same face in the mirror more times than you could count.

“Aizawa, the students will be okay. They’re trained, we have a solid plan, and we know what we’re all dealing with this time,” you stated, putting your hands over his shoulders.

“You know that doesn’t guarantee anything,” he noted, and he was absolutely right.

“Still,” you insisted, “you have to believe it will all be okay. Otherwise, you won’t be able to rest well for tomorrow, and you absolutely need to.”

“I’m not the worrisome type,” Aizawa remarked.

“You give yourself too much credit.”

It was his time to chuckle, soft and low. For a while, you both stood there motionless, with your hands resting reassuringly over his shoulders. To share each other’s presence had been a staple for years, and the same could be said about the comfort you both drew from it.

Aizawa had this no-bullshit, straightforward way of dealing with things that drew you in right from the start, and the silly teenage crush became true admiration after a while. That, and the endless patience — in his own brand of brashness — that he had with you, because somehow, he saw something in you. Potential, he said years ago. And he was right.

You decided in a not-so-recent past to let go of your feelings for him — a not so successful attempt, but still. You were both always elbow-deep in a workload that never seemed to decrease, no matter how many hours you put in between the school and the pro hero gig. To have only twenty-four hours in a day seemed like a bad joke from the Gods to people like you two.

Not the greatest idea to get involved like this and risk such a treasured… something. Friendship? The word felt inaccurate to this day to explain the deep trust and bond forged through those decades.

“Can I offer some help with anything?” you gently brushed your thumbs over his shoulders before retreating your hands back to your waist, “You always have a pile of stuff to sort out before sleep, and you sure as hell need some shuteye quality time.”

Aizawa kept silent, his gaze low and focused on the ground.

“Shota?” You asked, still meeting no answer whatsoever.

Before you realized, he rested the side of his face over your abdomen, and gently pulled both of your hands up to his hair. Surprised, your breath hitched on its way out, and your eyes fluttered as your heart picked up the pace.

“Is this okay?” Aizawa asked, closing his eye while he relaxed further into you.

You softly hummed in accordance, brushing the tips of your fingers down his long locks, careful not to tangle them on his eye patch elastic band.

“I’m not just…” he paused, considering his words for a moment before continuing, “I’m not concerned only about the students.” He said those last words in a whisper, as his hands made their way to hold your elbows delicately.

Your hands instinctively tightened around his head, pressing him against you until it became a yearning embrace.

“I’ll be fine, I promise,” you whispered back, heaving a little before your next words, “promise me you will too?”

His hands slid under your arms, trailing around your body to press against your back while he hugged you back.

“I promise.”

You both stayed there for what felt like an eternity, embracing each other in borrowed time until the sun was finally set under the city’s skyline, taking away the last rays of clarity along with it.

written by tsukimefuku ㋡ comments and reblogs are appreciated. do not copy, translate or repost. copycatting is for losers.

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