gojosconsort

[gojosconsort]

gojo who makes u take him all the way 2 the base whenever u say hes being too mean !! then he'll let u come up for a breather before pressing u down again n watch u squirm ^^

𓂃୨ৎ mdni. oral (m receiving), deepthroating, choking

“fuck, you’re so pretty like this,” satoru groans, voice low, but there’s a taunting edge. your throat burns, spit dripping down your chin, and you try to pull back, gasping, “satoru, you’re being too mean.”

his eyes flash, and that smirk widens, dangerous. “oh, you think i’m mean?” he says, gripping your hair tighter. “then take it all, babe. all the way.”

before you can protest, he pushes your head down, slow but firm, until your nose brushes the base of his cock, his pubes tickling your face. he’s so deep, stretching your throat, and you can’t breathe, eyes watering, gagging around him.

“there we go,” he murmurs, almost reverent, “that’s my good girl.” he holds you there, watching you struggle, his cock twitching in your throat. “look at you, squirming so cute,” he teases, thumb brushing a tear from your cheek.

after a beat, he lets you up, and you pull off, gasping for air, lips swollen, drool everywhere. “mean enough for you?” he asks, grinning, but you barely catch your breath before he’s guiding you back down, cock sliding deep again.

“satoru,” you whine around him, voice muffled, and he chuckles. “say i’m mean again, and we’ll see how deep you can go,” he taunts, pushing you to the base once more.

you gag, throat tight, but he’s moaning now, head tilted back, “fuck, your mouth’s so perfect.” your squirming’s got him harder, his grip relentless, and you’re dripping, the heat between your legs unbearable.

he lets you up again, air rushing into your lungs, and you’re a mess—tears streaking your face, lips slick with spit and his cum.

“so fucking gorgeous,” he says, pulling you onto his lap, your knees straddling him. “you did so well, taking me like that.” his cock’s still hard, pressing against your soaked panties, and you whimper, grinding against him.

“want more?” he asks, voice soft but teasing, hands sliding under your shirt, thumbs brushing your nipples. you nod, desperate, and he yanks your panties aside, lining his cock up with your dripping pussy. “say i’m mean,” he murmurs, smirking, and you do, voice shaky, “you’re so mean, satoru.”

he groans, thrusting up, filling you in one hard push, his cock stretching you so good you cry out. “fuck, that’s what i wanted,” he growls, hands on your hips, slamming you down onto him. each thrust’s brutal, his cock hitting deep, making you moan loud, just how he likes.

your walls clench tight around him, pleasure building fast, and he’s watching you, eyes dark, loving every sound you make. “you’re so fucking hot,” he moans, pulling you down to kiss you, tongue messy, swallowing your cries. you’re close, and he knows it, thrusting harder, one hand sliding to rub your clit, fast and rough.

“cum for me,” he pants, and you do, hard, your pussy squeezing his cock as you scream his name, shaking, vision blurring. he’s right behind you, groaning, “fuck, babe, feels so good—” his cock pulses, cumming deep inside you, hot and thick, filling you up as he thrusts slow, riding it out.

you’re both panting, his arms wrapping around you, keeping you close. he kisses your neck, soft now. “call me mean again,” he murmurs, “and i’ll make you take it all night.”

you shiver, still feeling him inside, and know he’s not joking. “you’re awful,” you whisper, and he laughs, pushing you back down, his cock hardening again.

“what was that?”

[gojosconsort]

to add on for the oblivious wife fic w nanami (when she was trying on the bathing suit) u should do one when they’re finally at the beach

𓂃୨ৎ mdni. freaky nanami

“isn’t it gorgeous?” you call out to your husband kento, twirling in the sand, arms wide. the bikini top strains, triangles shifting, a sliver of nipple teasing the edge, and kento’s cock throbs painfully, tenting his swim trunks.

the beach stretches out under a merciless sun, waves crashing lazily, and your husband is already regretting this vacation. he’s sprawled on a towel under an umbrella, sunglasses fogged with sweat, gripping a book so hard the spine creaks.

you, his sweet, oblivious wife, are the problem—prancing around in that neon pink bikini he bought in a haze of desperation at the store, the one that barely contains your curves and has been torturing him since you stepped out of the hotel room.

every jiggle of your ass, every bounce of your tits, is a fresh assault on his sanity, and now you’re out there, glistening with sunscreen, drawing every eye on this damn beach.

kento shifts, book slamming over his crotch, a pathetic shield against the wet spot blooming dark from his leaking tip. fuck, he thinks, jaw locked, teeth grinding. he wants to pin you to the sand, rip that scrap of fabric off, and fuck you raw until you’re sobbing his name, public be damned—but he can’t, and it’s killing him.

you’re oblivious to his problem, laughing as you kick at the waves, ass rippling with each step. the thong bottom rides up, exposing more of that plump, perfect curve, and his eyes track it, feral, imagining sinking his teeth into it, spanking you red, then burying his cock deep until you’re dripping with him.

his balls ache, heavy, and he presses the book harder, the pages crumpling under his grip. every giggle, every sway of your hips, mocks his control, and he’s one deep breath from losing it.

then you come back, holding a dripping ice cream cone, vanilla soft serve already melting in the heat. “got a treat!” you chirp, plopping down cross-legged on the towel, thighs spread just enough to make his vision blur.

you lick the cone, tongue swirling slow, and a thick drop of cream slips free, landing square on your chest, right above the swell of your tits. it slides, slow and obscene, down the curve, pooling in the bikini’s pathetic triangle, and your nipples harden under the cold, poking through the fabric.

“oops!” you giggle, looking down, and the sound—fuck, that sound—sends a jolt straight to his cock. you wiggle, making your tits bounce, the ice cream smearing further, a sticky trail glistening in the sun.

kento chokes, a strangled groan trapped in his throat, and he’s picturing it: licking that cream off, tongue dragging slow over your skin, sucking your nipple into his mouth, biting just hard enough to make you gasp.

his cock leaks again, precum soaking through his trunks, and he presses the book so hard it’s practically embedded in his lap.

“lemme get that,” he rasps, voice raw, reaching for a napkin with a trembling hand. he leans closer—too close—your scent hitting him, coconut sunscreen and sweet vanilla, and his mouth waters, aching to lap up every inch of you. his fingers brush your shoulder as he dabs at the mess, napkin shaking, and you shiver, all innocent, smiling up at him.

“thanks, honey!” you say, taking another lick of the cone, and another drop falls, this time landing right on the swell of your breast, sliding toward the nipple he’s dying to suck. his control snaps like a frayed thread, and he freezes, napkin crumpled in his fist, fighting the urge to throw you down, lick you clean, and fuck you into the sand until the whole beach hears you scream.

“it’s so sticky,” you pout, swiping at it with your finger and popping it in your mouth. your lips close around it, sucking slow, and kento’s vision whites out. he’s imagining those lips around his cock, your throat full of him, gagging as he fucks your face, cum dripping down your chin onto those perfect tits.

his book’s a lost cause, pages warping under his grip, and he shifts, thighs flexing, trying to hide the huge bulge.

“stay still,” he growls, low and tight, grabbing another napkin. he dabs at your chest, every brush of his fingers against your skin a test of his restraint. he’s so close to saying fuck it, to dragging you behind the umbrella and stuffing you full, consequences be damned. your tits jiggle with each swipe, and he bites his cheek, blood sharp on his tongue, to keep from groaning.

“all clean?” you ask, tilting your head, eyes wide and sweet. you take another lick, ice cream smearing your lips, and he wants to shove his cock past them, make you choke on it until you’re crying. his trunks—thank god for the book—are a prison, cock throbbing, balls tight, and he’s leaking so much it’s soaking through to the towel.

“yeah,” he lies, voice cracked, tossing the napkin aside. he leans back, book still clamped over his lap, and exhales hard through his nose. he can’t watch you anymore, not without breaking, so he stares at the horizon, counting waves, willing his cock to calm down. you hum happily, licking away, and every slurp is a dagger to his control.

the beach is too public, too crowded, and he’s too close to ruining you right here. he needs to get you back to the hotel—now—before he cums in his trunks or does something he’ll regret.

“we’re leaving soon,” he mutters, already picturing you bent over the bed, bikini shredded, screaming his name as he fills you again and again, his cum dripping down your pussy, pooling on the sheets, only for him to fuck it back in, deep and relentless, until you’re so full it leaks out with every thrust.

[gojosconsort]

Gojo just casually touching readers tits when he’s horny during a movie, like gently rubbing circles on it and playing with her nipples to let her know he wants her to fuck him. So she ends up pushing him down on the couch and rides him till he cums with her twice tits still in his mouth🥰

𓂃୨ৎ mdni. nipple play, riding, creampie

the movie’s some dumb action flick, explosions flickering on the screen, but satoru’s barely watching. you’re curled up on the couch next to him, your head on his shoulder, his arm slung around you.

it’s cozy, until you feel his fingers start to wander, sliding under your loose tank top. his touch is warm, lazy, but there’s a spark in it that makes your breath catch.

he’s horny—you know the signs by now.

satoru’s hand cups your tit, thumb brushing slow circles over your nipple through your bra, teasing it to a hard peak. “satoru,” you murmur, glancing at him, but he’s got that smug little grin, eyes half-lidded, pretending to focus on the movie. “what?” he says, all innocent, but his fingers pinch your nipple lightly, making you squirm.

“you’re distracting,” you huff, but heat’s already pooling between your thighs. he chuckles, leaning closer, lips grazing your ear. “can’t help it, babe. these are too fucking perfect.” his other hand joins, both now under your shirt, pushing your bra up to free your tits.

he’s gentle but also mean, rolling your nipples between his fingers, tugging just enough to make you gasp. “feel good?” he asks, and you nod, biting your lip.

he’s hard—you can feel his cock straining against his sweatpants, pressing into your hip. his touches get bolder, one hand kneading your breast while his mouth dips to kiss your neck, whispering, “want you so bad.” it’s his way of begging, that needy edge in his voice, and it’s got you soaked, thighs clenching.

and he’s in heaven, your soft, heavy breasts in his palms, so perfect he can’t stop groaning, his cock throbbing just from touching you. every squeeze, every tug, makes him hungrier, his mouth watering to taste you.

“satoru, the movie—” you start, but he groans, cutting you off, and you’ve had enough. you shove him back, his head hitting the couch cushions, his blue eyes wide with surprise, then darkening.

“fuck, yes,” he breathes as you straddle him, yanking his sweatpants down. his cock springs free, thick and leaking, tip flushed, and you’re already aching to take him. you tug your shorts and panties off and line him up, his cock nudging your slick entrance, and sink down slow, gasping as he stretches you, filling you deep.

satoru’s eyes roll back, a low moan escaping as your tight, wet pussy grips him, so warm and perfect he’s losing his mind. every inch feels like fucking bliss, your walls squeezing him just right, like you were made for his cock. you start to ride him, hips rocking, his cock dragging against your walls, hitting deep, making you moan.

“shit, you’re so tight,” he gasps, hands flying back to your tits, squeezing as you start moving. he’s obsessed, the way your breasts bounce under your top, so full and soft, makes him thrust up harder, wanting to stay buried in you forever.

he leans in, pushes your top up over your tits and then his mouth is on them, sucking one nipple, then the other. “fuck, you’re so hot,” he mutters. he sucks hard, tongue swirling, teeth grazing, and it’s too much—you’re clenching around him, riding faster.

“satoru,” you whimper, tugging his white hair, and he growls, sucking harder, his whole body trembling from how good your tits feel in his mouth, how your pussy milks his cock.

his hips buck, meeting your thrusts, the couch creaking, wet sounds filling the room. you’re close, your clit grinding against him, and he’s right there with you, hands gripping your tits like he’ll die if he lets go.

“cum for me,” he pants, biting your nipple lightly, and that’s it—you’re cumming, hard, walls squeezing his cock as you cry out, shaking in his lap. he’s still sucking your tit, hands gripping your hips, guiding you through it. “fuck, that’s my girl.”

you keep riding, oversensitive but needy, wanting him to cum too. his mouth switches to your other breast, latching on, sucking like he’s starving, and it’s pushing you toward another edge.

“satoru, oh god,” you gasp, and he’s done—your pussy’s grip pulling him under, the way your tits fill his mouth making him cum, cock pulsing, spilling hot and thick inside you. he groans, loud, still sucking your nipple, thrusts slowing as he rides it out, every spurt feeling like he’s marking you, claiming you.

you’re not done, though—your hips keep moving, slower now, milking him, and he’s whimpering, oversensitive, but he doesn’t stop you. his mouth stays on your nipple, sucking softer, and the feeling’s got you cumming again, a smaller, shuddering wave, your pussy clenching tight around his softening cock.

you collapse against him, both of you panting, his arms wrapping around you. he pulls back, kissing your swollen nipples gently, then your lips, soft and sweet. “you’re so fucking hot,” he murmurs, grinning, still half-hard inside you. “movie’s shit anyway. round two in bed?”

[gojosconsort]

Satoru with a moaning kink so he constantly fucks hard for a scream orrr vice versa and he’s getting head so hard for a whimper he taps out but we keep going anyways??

𓂃୨ৎ mdni. oral (m receiving), overstimulation, creampie, light domination

satoru’s got a thing for your moans—drives him fucking wild, to be precise. you’re sprawled on his bed, sheets already a mess, and he’s got you pinned, thighs spread, his cock slamming into you so hard the headboard’s rattling.

he’s relentless, hips snapping with a force that makes your whole body shake, chasing those screams he loves.

“c’mon, babe, let me hear you.” each thrust’s deeper, his cock stretching your pussy, hitting that spot that makes you scream his name.

“satoru!” you cry, nails digging into his shoulders, and he groans, loud, like your voice is fucking him up. “fuck, that’s it,” he pants, thrusting harder, the wet slap of skin filling the room. your moans are raw, desperate, spilling out as he fucks you senseless, your walls clenching tight around him.

he’s obsessed, every scream making his cock twitch, pushing him closer to the edge. “louder,” he demands, grabbing your hips, pulling you down to meet his thrusts, and you’re screaming now, head thrown back, pleasure tearing through you.

he’s not done, though—satoru’s too greedy for your sounds.

he flips you, ass up, face pressed into the pillows, and slams back in, his cock so deep it’s overwhelming. “scream for me, baby,” he moans, hand smacking your ass, and you do, voice breaking as he pounds you, your pussy dripping, soaking the sheets.

he cums hard, groaning your name, filling you with hot, thick spurts, but he keeps going, chasing more of your moans, even as you’re trembling and oversensitive.

“fuck, you sound so good,” he pants, pulling out, cum leaking down your thighs. he’s still hard, cock glistening, and you know what he wants. you push him onto his back, his eyes widening, that smug grin faltering as you straddle his thighs. “my turn,” you say, and he’s already moaning, just from the look in your eyes.

you take his cock in your mouth, slow at first, tongue swirling around the tip, tasting him. he’s sensitive, whimpering already, and it’s like music to you.

“shit, babe,” he whines, hands in your hair, hips twitching as you suck him deeper, lips tight around his shaft. you go hard, no mercy, hollowing your cheeks, taking him to the back of your throat, gagging softly. his whimpers turn to broken moans, high and needy, and it’s got you soaked, your pussy throbbing just from his sounds.

“fuck, fuck, you’re too good,” he gasps, head thrown back, abs flexing as he tries to hold it together.

you suck harder, tongue flicking his sensitive tip, and he’s a mess, moaning so loud it’s almost a scream. “babe, i can’t—” he chokes out, tapping your shoulder, his signal to stop, but you don’t. you push deeper, throat tightening around him, and he’s trembling, hips bucking, “please, fuck, i’m—”

his moans are fucking heavenly, high-pitched and desperate, and you keep going, lips sliding over his cock, hand pumping the base. he’s whimpering non-stop now, body shaking, and you feel his cock pulse, another orgasm hitting him.

he cums hard, hot and thick down your throat, and you swallow every drop, still sucking, making him writhe. “shit, babe, stop—” he gasps, but his voice cracks, another whimper slipping out, and you know he’s loving it, even if he’s tapped out.

you finally pull off, lips swollen, his cum still on your tongue. he’s panting, eyes dazed, hair a mess, looking at you like you’re a fucking goddess.

“you’re insane,” he breathes, pulling you up, kissing you deep, tasting himself on your lips. your moans are still ringing in his head, and he’s already half-hard again, hands sliding to your ass. “fuck, you’re too much,” he murmurs, but he’s pulling you closer, ready to hear you scream again.

you straddle him, his cock slipping back into your dripping pussy, and he groans, head falling back. “gonna make you scream for me now,” he says, voice rough, and you’re already moaning, knowing he’s about to ruin you all over again.

[gojosconsort]

suguru loves pinning you down on your tiny bed while he visits you on the weekends. “spread those legs for me pretty girl, yeah?” he says, tugging your shirt up to expose your tits, tongue sloppy as he licks and sucks ‘til your nipples are wet and aching. “so goddamn pretty, but you’re dyin’ for my cock, huh?”

you nod, all shy even tho he's your boyfriend for quite a while now and he smirks, forcing your thighs apart with his legs. “good girl,” he says, sliding into you, stretching you so full you choke on a gasp. “look at that tight little pussy, taking me so well... you're such a good fuck.”

and then he starts pounding, hand wrapping your throat, thumb pressing just enough. “you’re so fuckin’ pretty, but you’re my dirty slut, aren't you?” his voice drips sweet venom. “say it, pretty girl. tell me you’re my little slut.”

you stutter, and he tightens his grip, eyes dark. “say it, or i won't let you cum’,” he warns, his voice still so sweet, almost loving. “i-i’m your… slut,” you whimper, and he smiles, kissing you messy with his tongue in your mouth.

“that’s my girl,” he mutters, slamming harder, cock bullying your cervix ‘til you’re seeing stars. “my pretty little slut... love fuckin’ you so much.” he’s relentless, growling, “cum for me—show me how much you love bein’ my little slut.” you scream his name, cumming so hard your legs shake, and he fucks you through it, smirking at the mess you make on his fat cock.

[gojosconsort]

what happens in the car, stays in the car !? // nanami kento

𓂃୨ৎ you're the young intern who's been fantasizing about your stoic coworker, nanami, and he's the older, unhappily taken man who finally breaks, pinning you down in his car after drinks to fuck you senseless.

𓂃୨ৎ pairing. afab!reader x coworker!nanami

𓂃୨ৎ warnings. mdni. oral (both receiving), fingering, deep throating, spanking, bondage (seatbelt), edging, age gap, overstimulation, cheating (nanami has a girlfriend), gagging (with tie), creampie, drunk driving (don't do that! it's more of a plot hole), car sex

you’re sitting at the bar, the dim lights casting a warm glow over the polished wood counter, the faint hum of chatter and clinking glasses filling the air. it’s been a long week at the office, and you and nanami, your coworker who’s somehow always got that tired look in his eyes, decided to hit this place to unwind.

he’s in his early thirties, a bit older than you and more experienced in your job, but tonight his tie’s loosened, top button undone, and there’s a slight flush on his cheeks from the whiskey he’s drinking.

you’re in your early twenties, still figuring out the corporate grind, and maybe that’s why you’re drawn to him—his steady presence, the way he carries himself like he’s seen it all but hasn’t let it break him.

you’re both a little buzzed, the kind of buzz that makes your laughter come easier and your shoulders relax. the bar’s crowded, but it feels like it’s just the two of you in this corner, elbows brushing on the countertop. he’s telling you about some client who botched a deal today, his voice low and rough, and you’re leaning in closer than you need to, catching the faint scent of his cologne—something expensive, woody, grounding. you make a snarky comment about the client, and he chuckles, a rare sound that makes your stomach flip.

“you’re trouble, you know that?” he says, his eyes flicking to yours, a playful edge to his tone that’s not usually there. he’s got that half-smile, the one that makes him look younger, less burdened. you grin, nudging his arm with yours, your skin lingering against his for a second too long.

“me? trouble? you’re the one who’s been scowling at spreadsheets all week,” you tease, sipping your drink, the burn of alcohol warming your throat. your knee bumps his under the bar, and you don’t pull away. neither does he.

he shakes his head, but his gaze doesn’t leave you. “you make it hard to stay focused,” he mutters, almost to himself, and you catch it, your heart doing a little stutter.

he’s got a girlfriend, you know that—someone he’s been with for years, someone he talks about in passing but never with any warmth. you’ve seen the way his jaw tightens when her name comes up in conversation, the way he changes the subject. it’s none of your business, but you can’t help wondering what’s keeping him there when he looks so damn miserable.

“what, i’m a distraction now?” you say, leaning closer, your voice light but your eyes searching his. you’re treading a line, you both know it, but the alcohol’s got you bold, and the way he’s looking at you makes it hard to care.

he tilts his head, his fingers brushing against yours as he reaches for his glass, and you swear it’s not an accident. “something like that,” he says, his voice softer now, almost dangerous. his thumb grazes your knuckles, just for a second, and it’s enough to make your pulse race. you laugh it off, but your cheeks are warm, and you’re pretty sure he notices.

“careful, kento,” you say, using his first name like you’ve done a hundred times at the office, but here it feels different, heavier. “don’t want to get too friendly.” you’re joking, mostly, but there’s a challenge in your tone, and he picks up on it, his eyes narrowing slightly.

“too late for that, don’t you think?” he replies, and there’s something in his voice—something raw, unguarded—that makes you wonder how long he’s been holding back. his hand shifts, resting on the bar near yours, close enough that you can feel the warmth of his skin. you could pull back, keep it safe, but you don’t. instead, you let your fingers brush his, just enough to feel the spark.

the bartender slides another round your way, breaking the moment, and you both laugh, the tension easing but not disappearing. you talk about work, about the idiots in upper management, about anything that keeps the conversation flowing. but every now and then, your eyes meet, and there’s something unspoken there.

your drinks are running low, and you’re feeling reckless, the kind of reckless that comes from too much whiskey and the way his knee keeps brushing yours under the bar. you’re the one who suggests it, half-joking, half-daring. “wanna play a game? make this night a little more fun?”

he raises an eyebrow, that half-smile creeping back, and you can tell he’s intrigued. “what kind of game?” he asks, his voice low, like he’s already expecting trouble.

“truth or drink,” you say, smirking, tapping your glass with your fingernail. “answer the question or take a shot. no dodging, no bullshit.”

he leans back, considering, his eyes flicking over your face like he’s weighing the risks. “alright,” he says finally, his tone almost challenging. “you first.”

you grin, leaning closer, your elbows on the bar. “okay, kento. what’s the one thing you hate most about your relationship?” it’s a cheap shot, and you know it, but you’re curious, and the alcohol’s making you bold.

his jaw tightens, just for a second, and you think he’s gonna drink. but then he meets your gaze. “she doesn’t see me,” he says, voice quiet but heavy. “not really.” he doesn’t elaborate, just takes a sip of his whiskey anyway.

your heart does a little twist, but you keep your face neutral, nodding. “fair enough. your turn.”

he doesn’t hesitate. “what’s the most reckless thing you’ve ever done for someone you wanted?” his eyes are locked on yours, and you feel the question like a hook, pulling you in.

you laugh, but it’s nervous, and you grab your drink, stalling. “that’s a loaded one,” you mutter, but you don’t drink. instead, you lean in, voice dropping. “snuck into a guy’s apartment at three a.m. just to leave a note on his fridge. didn’t even know if he’d see it.” you don’t mention it was a dumb college crush, not worth the effort. you just watch nanami’s reaction, the way his lips twitch, almost impressed.

“bold,” he says, and there’s something in his tone that makes your skin prickle. “my turn.”

the game goes back and forth, questions getting sharper, flirtier, the shots piling up. you’re both laughing, but it’s tense, like you’re circling something dangerous. you ask him about his first kiss; he asks you about the last time you broke a rule. he’s loosening up, his usual restraint cracking, and you’re eating it up, every brush of his hand against yours sending a jolt through you.

then it’s your turn again, and you’re feeling bold, maybe too bold. “what’s one thing you’ve always wanted to try but never had the guts to do?” you ask, your voice teasing, but your eyes are daring him to cross a line.

he pauses, longer than before, his fingers tracing the rim of his glass. then he leans in, close enough that you can feel his breath, and says, “something like this.” before you can process, he grabs a shot from the bartender’s tray, holds it up, and says, “new rule. you hold the shot. i take it.”

your brain short-circuits, but you’re too far gone to back down. “what, like, in my mouth?” you say, half-laughing, half-challenging, but your heart’s pounding.

“exactly like that,” he replies, his voice so low it’s almost a growl, and his eyes are burning into yours, no trace of a joke.

you hesitate, but the way he’s looking at you—like he’s starving—makes you nod. you take the shot glass, tip your head back, and let the tequila pool in your mouth, the burn sharp against your tongue. you’re hyper-aware of everything: the bar’s noise fading, the heat of his body as he stands, the way his hand brushes your jaw as he tilts your face up.

he doesn’t break eye contact, not once, as he leans in, his lips hovering over yours for a split second, close enough that you feel the ghost of his breath. then his mouth closes over the edge of the shot, his lips brushing yours, soft but deliberate, as he takes the tequila, his tongue grazing the corner of your mouth just enough to make your knees weak. he pulls back, swallowing, his eyes dark and unreadable, but the tension’s so thick you could choke on it.

“your turn,” he says, voice rough, sitting back like nothing happened, but his hand’s still near yours, and you know you’re both in way too deep now.

the tequila’s hitting hard now, your head buzzing, the world softening around the edges. you and nanami are slouched closer together, the bar’s noise a distant hum, like it’s just you two in this hazy, charged bubble. your thighs are pressed together under the bar, and you’re not sure who leaned in first, but neither of you’s pulling away. the empty shot glasses are piling up, and your laughter’s getting looser, sloppier, every touch lingering longer than it should.

he’s got that look again, intense, like he’s trying to figure out how far this can go before it breaks. the game’s still on, but the questions are getting reckless, dangerous. it’s his turn, and he leans in, elbow on the bar.

“what’s your biggest fantasy in bed?” he asks, no preamble, no hesitation, his eyes locked on yours like he’s daring you to flinch. it’s filthy, the way he says it, and it sends a shiver down your spine, your breath catching.

you laugh, but it’s shaky, and you take a sip of your drink to buy time, your cheeks burning. you could dodge, take a shot, but the alcohol’s got your guard down, and the way he’s watching you—hungry, unguarded—makes you want to match him. you lean closer, your lips curling into a smirk, and say, “you.”

it’s out before you can stop it, hanging in the air like a spark. his eyes darken, and he doesn’t laugh, doesn’t brush it off. he just stares, his gaze heavy, like he’s imagining it right there. “careful,” he murmurs, but his voice is thick, and you catch the way his hand tightens around his glass. “you don’t know what you’re starting.”

you’re dizzy, from the drinks or him or both, but you don’t back down. “maybe i do,” you say, your voice softer now, teasing.

you’re both drunk, past the point of pretending this is just friendly, his tie long gone, sleeves rolled up, and your hair’s falling messy around your face. his hand’s been creeping closer all night, and now it’s resting on your thigh, warm and heavy through your skirt, his fingers pressing just enough to make your pulse race.

“you wanna know why i don’t get along with my girlfriend anymore?” he says, leaning in so close you can feel the heat of his breath on your cheek. his hand tightens on your thigh, sliding up an inch, and it’s enough to make your whole body go weak, your breath hitching. “yeah,” you manage, your voice barely a whisper, “tell me.”

he’s so close now, his lips almost brushing your ear, his fingers digging into your thigh like he’s anchoring himself. “it’s her,” he says, low and rough, the words spilling out like a dam’s broken. “she doesn’t want me. not the way i need. i want—fuck, i want someone who’ll let me take control, who’ll give themselves up to me, let me push them to the edge and beg for more.”

your knees are jelly, your head spinning, and you’re gripping the edge of the bar to keep yourself upright. his words are filthy, raw, painting pictures in your mind that make heat pool in your core. his hand’s still on your thigh, higher now, his thumb brushing slow circles that send shivers up your spine. you try to speak, but all that comes out is a shaky, “kento…”

he pulls back just enough to look at you, his eyes heavy-lidded, searching your face like he’s waiting for you to stop him. but you don’t. you can’t. you’re too far gone, your body leaning into his touch, your lips parted, and he sees it—the way you’re unraveling under him. “you get it, don’t you?” he murmurs, his voice a low growl, his hand sliding up another inch, bold and possessive.

you’re weak, completely undone, your heart pounding so hard you’re sure he can hear it. his face is inches from yours, and you’re drowning in the scent of his cologne, the weight of his hand, the promise in his words. you know you’re crossing a line, but right now, with him this close, you don’t care.

he leans back suddenly, his hand slipping from your thigh, leaving your skin cold where his touch had been. “you wanna get out of here?” he asks. it’s not a question, not really; it’s a dare, and you feel it in your bones.

your heart stumbles, but you don’t hesitate. “yeah,” you say. you slide off the stool, legs shaky from the drinks and the way he’s looking at you, and follow him out, the cool night air hitting your skin like a shock.

his car’s parked a block away, a sleek, dark mercedes that screams understated money, and you’re hyper-aware of his presence beside you, his hand brushing your lower back as he guides you through the crowd. neither of you speaks, the silence heavy, loaded. when you reach the car, he unlocks it but doesn’t open the door right away. instead, he turns to you, backing you against the passenger side, his body close but not quite touching, caging you in.

“last chance to walk away,” he says, but you catch the strain in it, like he’s holding himself back by a thread. his eyes search yours, and you can feel the heat radiating off him, the way his hands flex at his sides like he’s itching to touch you.

you don’t walk away. you tilt your chin up, defiant, wanting, and that’s all it takes. he closes the distance, one hand cupping your jaw, firm but not rough, and kisses you like he’s been starving for it.

his lips are hot, demanding, and you melt into him, your hands fisting in his shirt as you pull him closer. the kiss is messy, all teeth and tongue, the taste of whiskey and tequila mingling, and you’re drowning in it, in him.

you arch into him, desperate for more, your body pressing against his, but he’s in control, and he proves it. when you push up on your toes, chasing his mouth, he pulls back just enough to make you whimper, his thumb brushing your lower lip, teasing. “slow down,” he murmurs, his voice a low growl that sends a shiver through you. “we’re doing this my way.”

you’re panting, your body trembling under his gaze, and he’s watching you like he’s memorizing every reaction. his hand slides to your waist, pinning you against the car, and he kisses you again, slower this time, deeper, like he’s savoring it.

you try to arch again, to press yourself closer, but he pulls back just enough to keep you wanting, his lips hovering over yours, a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. “patience,” he says, and the word alone makes your knees weak, his control wrapping around you like a tether you don’t want to break.

you’re trembling, caught in the push and pull of his restraint, the way he keeps you teetering on the edge with every calculated move. his hand on your waist tightens, fingers digging in just enough to make you gasp, and you feel the hard line of his body against yours.

“you’re shaking,” he murmurs, his voice low and rough, almost amused, but there’s a hunger in it that makes your stomach flip. his thumb traces a slow line along your hip, slipping just under the hem of your shirt, grazing bare skin. “nervous?”

you shake your head, defiant. “not nervous,” you manage, your voice breathy, betraying you. “just… want you.”

his eyes flash, something dangerous sparking in them, and for a second, you think he’s going to kiss you again, devour you right there. but he doesn’t. instead, he leans in, his lips brushing the shell of your ear, sending a shiver down your spine. “you have no idea what you’re asking for,” he says, his voice a low growl, each word sinking into you like a promise. “but you’re gonna find out.”

before you can respond, he pulls back, his hand leaving your waist to open the passenger door. “get in,” he says, not a request, and the authority in his tone makes your knees weak. you slide into the seat, your pulse racing, and he shuts the door with a quiet click that feels final, like you’ve crossed a line you can’t uncross. he rounds the car, sliding into the driver’s seat, and the silence between you is heavy, charged, as he starts the engine.

he doesn’t drive far—just a few blocks to a quieter street, where the city lights are dim and the world feels smaller, just you and him. he cuts the engine and turns to you, his gaze heavy, assessing. “still with me?” he asks, his voice softer now, but still laced with that control that makes your skin prickle.

“yeah,” you breathe, leaning toward him, your hands itching to touch him. you reach out, fingers brushing his jaw, but he catches your wrist, his grip firm, stopping you. your breath hitches, and he smirks, like he’s enjoying how easily he can unravel you.

“not yet,” he says, his thumb stroking the inside of your wrist, slow and deliberate, making your whole body hum. “you don’t get to touch until i say.” he releases your wrist, but his hand slides to your thigh again, higher this time, his fingers spreading possessively over your skin. you arch toward him, desperate, but he pulls back just enough to keep you wanting, his eyes never leaving yours.

“kento,” you whisper, half-pleading, and he leans in, finally kissing you again, slow and deep, his tongue teasing yours until you’re whimpering into his mouth. his hand slides up your thigh, pushing your skirt higher, and you’re melting, completely at his mercy, every nerve sparking under his touch. when you try to press closer, he pulls back again, just enough to make you chase him, his lips curling into that infuriating, controlled smirk.

“good girl,” he murmurs, the words hitting you like a shockwave, and you’re done for, your body trembling, ready to give him anything he wants, right there in the dark of his car.

“you’re so responsive,” he murmurs, like he’s savoring every reaction he pulls from you. his hand slides higher, fingers slipping under the edge of your underwear, and you gasp, your hips jerking instinctively toward him. he pauses, his gaze sharpening, and you feel the weight of his control settle over you like a blanket. “stay still,” he says, his tone firm, leaving no room for argument. “you move when i tell you to.”

you nod, biting your lip, your body trembling with anticipation as his fingers brush against you, teasing, not quite giving you what you want. he’s slow, deliberate, exploring you with a precision that makes your head spin, his touch light but purposeful, building a pressure that’s almost unbearable. you’re already slick, desperate, and he knows it, his lips curling into that smirk that drives you wild.

“you’re so needy,” he says. his fingers trace the edge of your underwear, slow, teasing, brushing the sensitive skin where your thigh meets your core. you’re already aching, slick and hot, and he hasn’t even touched you properly yet. “but you’re gonna be good for me, aren’t you? gonna let me take my time.”

you nod, biting your lip, your body trembling as his fingers hook under the fabric, tugging it aside with agonizing precision. the cool air hits you, and you gasp, hips twitching instinctively, but his other hand presses firmly on your thigh, keeping you still. “what did i say? don’t move,” he orders again.

his fingertip grazes you, feather-light, just along the edge, and it’s torture, the barest touch sending sparks through your nerves. he’s slow, methodical, circling your entrance, spreading your wetness with a deliberate stroke that makes you clench. “so ready,” he murmurs, almost to himself, his eyes flicking to your face, drinking in the way your lips part, the way your chest heaves. “but i’m not letting you have it that easy.”

you whimper, your hands gripping the seat, nails digging in as he presses one finger against you, not pushing in, just resting there, letting you feel the pressure. “kento, please,” you whisper, your voice breaking, but he shakes his head, his thumb brushing over you, teasing your clit for a split second before pulling back.

“patience,” he says, his voice a low growl, and then he’s finally giving you something, his finger sliding in, slow, so slow, the stretch deliberate as he pushes past your entrance. you feel every inch, the way he curls slightly, testing, exploring, his knuckle brushing against your walls as he sinks deeper. your head falls back, a moan slipping out, and he pauses, just holding there, letting you adjust, letting you feel him.

“look at me,” he commands, and you force your eyes open, meeting his gaze, dark and intense, as he starts to move, pulling back almost all the way before pushing in again, deeper this time, his finger curling just right to hit that spot that makes you gasp. when you start to rock your hips, chasing more, he stops, his finger still inside you, and you whine, tears prickling your eyes.

“i said don’t move,” he repeats, his voice firm, his free hand gripping your thigh harder, pinning you in place. “you come when i let you, understand?” you nod, desperate, your body shaking, and he rewards you with a second finger, pushing in alongside the first, the stretch fuller now, making you bite your lip to stifle a sob.

“please, kento,” you beg, your voice a broken whisper, tears spilling over as the pleasure coils tighter, your body screaming for release. he leans closer, his lips brushing your cheek, his breath hot against your skin.

without warning, his pace shifts, his fingers thrusting harder, faster, the rhythm brutal and unrelenting. the wet sound of his movements fills the car, obscene and overwhelming, as he drives into you with a force that makes your whole body jolt.

each thrust is deep, his fingers curling sharply to hit that spot inside you that sends white-hot pleasure shooting through your veins. you cry out, your head falling back against the seat, your hands clawing at the leather as you struggle to hold on.

“kento—fuck,” you sob, your voice breaking, the intensity too much, too good, your body screaming for release. his fingers are merciless, pounding into you, the heel of his palm grinding against your clit with every thrust, sending shockwaves of pleasure that make your vision blur. you’re a mess, trembling, sweating, your hips twitching despite his orders, desperate to meet his brutal pace.

“please, kento, i can’t—i need—”

“no,” he cuts you off. “you’ll wait.” his thumb presses hard against your clit, circling roughly, and you scream, the pleasure so intense it’s almost pain. he’s pushing you to your limit, his fingers relentless, driving into you with a ferocity that leaves you sobbing, your body completely at his mercy.

“look at you,” he murmurs, his lips brushing your ear as he keeps up his punishing rhythm. “crying for me, so desperate. you’re mine right now, aren’t you?” his fingers twist inside you, hitting that spot again, and you nod frantically, tears falling freely, your body shaking as you cling to his words, to his control.

you’re right there, teetering on the edge, the pleasure so overwhelming it’s almost unbearable, your walls clenching tight around his fingers. tears stream down your face, your breaths coming in broken sobs, and you’re so close, so close and he knows—reading every shudder, every gasp, and just as you feel the first wave start to crash, he pulls his fingers out completely, leaving you empty and aching.

you cry out, a raw, desperate sound, your body shaking, leaving you a panting, trembling mess. your thighs are slick, your underwear soaked, and you’re practically sobbing. “no, no, please.”

“i told you,” he says, “you don’t come until i say.” he shifts, his hands moving to his belt, the sound of the buckle clinking loud in the quiet car. your eyes widen, your breath catching as he undoes it with slow, deliberate movements, the leather sliding through the metal with a soft rasp.

“get over here,” he orders, his voice sharp, and you’re moving before you can think, your body obeying on instinct. you lean across the center console, your hands trembling as you reach for him, but he grabs your wrist, stopping you.

“not your hands,” he says, his eyes burning into yours. “your mouth.” he undoes his pants, freeing himself, and you swallow hard, your mouth watering despite the ache still pulsing between your thighs. he’s hard, thick, and the sight of him makes your already shaky resolve crumble.

he guides you down, his hand firm on the back of your neck, not rough but unyielding, and you lower yourself, your lips brushing against him. you’re still reeling, your body screaming for release, but you want to please him, need to, and you take him into your mouth, slow at first, your tongue tracing the length of him. he groans, low and guttural, his fingers tightening in your hair, and the sound sends a fresh wave of heat through you.

“that’s it,” he murmurs, his voice rough, guiding you with a steady hand, setting the pace. “take it all.” you do your best, your lips stretching around him, your head bobbing as you try to match his rhythm, but he’s in control, his grip firm, keeping you exactly where he wants you.

every time you try to speed up, desperate to please, he pulls you back, slowing you down, making you feel every inch of him. you’re a mess, tears and spit mixing, your body still trembling from being left on the edge, but you’re lost in him, in the way he’s using you, in the way he’s watching you with that dark, hungry gaze.

“deeper,” he says, his voice a low growl, thick with want, and you feel his fingers tighten in your hair, pulling you closer. you relax your throat, taking a shaky breath through your nose, and he pushes you down, slow but relentless, his cock sliding deeper until it hits the back of your throat.

you gag slightly, your eyes watering, but he doesn’t let up, his hand steady, holding you there as you adjust. “that’s it,” he murmurs, his voice rough but steady, his thumb stroking the back of your neck like a reward. “take all of me.” your throat constricts around him, the sensation overwhelming, and you’re struggling to breathe, your hands gripping his thighs for balance. he’s so deep now, filling your mouth completely, and you can feel the pulse of him, hot and heavy, as you try to keep up.

he pulls you back just enough to let you catch your breath, your lips slick and swollen, but before you can fully recover, he pushes you down again, harder this time, his hips shifting to meet you. you choke, a muffled whimper escaping. his groans are louder now, raw, and you can feel the tension in his thighs, the way his control is fraying just a little at the edges.

“fuck, you’re perfect,” he mutters, his voice tight, and he thrusts into your mouth, shallow but firm, making you take him deeper with each push. his hand in your hair guides you, relentless, and you’re a mess, spit dripping down your chin, your body still throbbing.

you can feel him tensing, his breaths coming faster, rougher, and the way he’s throbbing against your tongue tells you he’s close, so close you can almost taste it.

just as his hips stutter, a low, guttural sound escaping him, he yanks you back by the hair, hard enough to make you gasp. your scalp stings, and you’re panting, spit-slick and dazed, as he holds you there, his eyes blazing with intensity. “not yet,” he growls, his voice rough, strained, like he’s fighting his own edge as much as he’s controlling yours. “you don’t get it that easy.”

your chest heaves, your lips trembling as you try to catch your breath, but before you can process, he’s moving and gestures to the backseat. “get back there,” he says. you scramble over the center console, your body shaky, skirt still bunched around your hips, and he follows.

he doesn’t give you time to settle. his hands are on you, pushing you down face-first onto the seat, your cheek pressed against the cool leather, your knees tucked under. you hear the soft click of the seatbelt being pulled, and then his hands are on your wrists, yanking them behind your back. the seatbelt strap loops around them, tight and unyielding, binding your hands together.

“stay down,” he orders, his voice low, dangerous, as he kneels behind you, one hand pressing between your shoulder blades to keep you pinned. you can feel the weight of him, the heat of his body, and the rustle of his clothes as he shifts, his other hand trailing down your spine, slow and deliberate, making you arch despite yourself.

without warning, his hand lifts, and then it comes down hard, a sharp smack against your bare ass that makes you yelp, the sting blooming hot and sudden across your skin. your body jolts, but his other hand keeps you pinned, unmoving, and the mix of pain and pleasure sends a shockwave through you, making you clench instinctively. “fuck,” you gasp, your voice muffled against the seat, and you hear him chuckle, low and dark, the sound sending a shiver down your spine.

“you like that,” he says, not a question, his voice rough with control as he delivers another smack, harder this time, the sound echoing in the cramped backseat. your skin burns, the heat spreading, and you whimper, your hips twitching despite his orders to stay still.

he pauses, his hand resting on the stinging flesh, fingers kneading lightly, and you can feel his gaze on you, heavy and assessing. “answer me,” he says, his tone sharp, demanding. “have you thought about this? about me, your coworker, fucking you?”

your breath catches, your face burning as much as your ass, and you’re too far gone to lie, too wrecked to pretend. “yes,” you admit, your voice shaky, barely audible against the leather. “all the time.”

he hums, low and approving, and delivers another sharp spank, this one making you cry out, the sting blending with the throbbing need between your thighs. “good,” he murmurs, his hand lingering, soothing the burn with a slow stroke that makes you tremble. “because i’ve thought about it too. bending you over my desk, making you scream my name.”

he shifts behind you, his hand on your lower back easing up, but the reprieve is brief. “spread your legs,” he orders, and you obey instantly, your knees parting as far as the cramped backseat allows, exposing yourself completely.

without warning, his mouth is on you from behind, his lips and tongue diving into your slick heat with a hunger that makes you cry out. it’s sloppy, relentless, his tongue lapping at you, broad and rough, no trace of gentleness in the way he devours you.

he’s so mean about it, sucking hard on your clit, his teeth grazing just enough to make you jolt, the sensation sharp and overwhelming. “kento—fuck,” you whimper, your voice breaking as you squirm, but his hands grip your hips, pinning you in place, his fingers digging into the tender flesh he spanked raw.

“stay still,” he growls against you, the vibration of his voice sending a shockwave through your core, and you moan, your bound hands twisting uselessly against the seatbelt. he’s merciless, his tongue plunging into you, licking deep, then pulling back to suck and nip at your clit, the wet sounds of his mouth obscene in the quiet car. spit and your arousal mix, dripping down your thighs, and he laps it up, greedy, his stubble scraping your sensitive skin.

he knows exactly what he’s doing, pushing you right to the edge, his lips closing around your clit, sucking hard, then releasing just as you start to unravel, only to dive back in, harder, meaner. “please, kento, i can’t—” you sob, tears spilling down your cheeks, your voice muffled against the seat as the pleasure becomes too much, too intense.

“you can,” he says, his voice muffled but firm, and he doubles down, his tongue fucking into you, fast and deep, his lips smacking wetly against your skin. it’s too much, the sloppy, relentless assault driving you wild, and you’re done for, the coil snapping as your orgasm hits like a wave, crashing through you.

you scream, your body shaking uncontrollably, your hips bucking against his face despite his grip, and he doesn’t stop, licking you through it, drawing out every shudder, every pulse, until you’re a whimpering, oversensitive mess, your thighs trembling, slick and spit coating you.

he finally pulls back, his breath heavy, as he watches you quiver, still bound, completely at his mercy. “that’s one,” he murmurs. you barely have time to catch your breath before you feel him shift, his hands gripping your hips with bruising force, pulling you up just enough to position you how he wants.

without a word, he lines himself up, and before you can brace yourself, he thrusts into you in one swift, brutal motion, his thick cock stretching you so suddenly that you scream, the sound raw and loud in the confined space.

he’s big, impossibly so, filling you completely, and the sensation is overwhelming, your still-sensitive walls clenching around him as your body struggles to adjust. your juices coat him, slick and dripping, making the slide easier but no less intense, and you’re loud, too loud, your cries echoing in the car.

“quiet,” he snaps, and you hear the rustle of fabric before his tie is suddenly at your lips, shoved into your mouth with a quick, firm push. the silk muffles your moans, tasting faintly of him, and you whimper around it, your eyes watering as you bite down, trying to obey.

his hand grips the back of your neck, holding you in place, keeping your face pressed into the seat as he leans over you, his breath hot against your ear. “i said stay quiet,” he growls, his tone low and dangerous, sending a shiver through you even as his cock pulses inside you, buried deep, unmoving for a moment, letting you feel every inch of him.

his hips pull back, slow and deliberate, then slam forward, hard, the force rocking you forward against the seat, your muffled cry stifled by the tie. he sets a punishing rhythm, each thrust deep and relentless, his cock stretching you, hitting that spot inside you that makes your vision blur.

“that’s it,” he murmurs, his voice tight, his hand still firm on your neck, keeping you pinned as he fucks into you, hard and mean. “take it all.” your body is helpless, bound and gagged, completely under his control.

your mind is a haze, completely cockdrunk, lost in the relentless, brutal rhythm of nanami’s thrusts as he fucks you hard into the backseat. the tie in your mouth muffles your moans, but you’re still loud, whimpering and choking around the silk as his thick cock stretches you to your limit, slamming into your cervix with every deep, punishing thrust.

your wrists strain against the seatbelt binding them, your body rocking forward with each movement, face pressed into the sweat-slick leather, your juices dripping down your thighs, pooling beneath you in a sticky mess.

the car is a furnace, the windows fogged up, condensation beading and streaking as the air grows heavy with heat and moisture. sweat clings to your skin, your hair sticking to your neck, and nanami’s no better—his shirt clings to his chest, damp and rumpled, his breath coming in loud, guttural grunts that fill the space every time he drives into you. the sound of him, raw and primal, mixes with the wet slap of his hips against your ass, obscene and unrelenting, making your head spin.

“fuck,” he growls, his voice rough, almost feral, as he pushes in again, deeper, harder, his cock hitting your cervix with a force that makes you see stars. he’s relentless, his hands gripping your hips so tight you’re sure they’ll bruise, pulling you back to meet each thrust, his grunts louder, more desperate, as he loses himself in you.

“look at you,” he growls, his voice rough as he leans over you, his breath hot against your neck. “so fucking dumb on my cock, aren’t you? just a messy little slut, taking it all, crying for me.” his words hit you like a spark, making you clench around him, a muffled sob escaping as the pleasure spikes, sharp and overwhelming.

he slams into you harder, his hips grinding against your ass, and you feel him hit your cervix again, the pressure so intense it’s almost painful, but you’re too far gone to care, your body craving every brutal thrust. “bet you’ve been dreaming about this,” he snarls, his cock throbbing inside you. “getting fucked stupid by your coworker, my fat cock stretching you out, making you drip all over me. you’re such a needy little thing, aren’t you?”

you’re shaking, your mind blank except for his voice, his cock, the way he’s claiming you completely, your walls clenching around him, and he feels it, his grunts getting louder, more desperate. “fuck, you’re tight,” he groans, his thrusts growing erratic, his control fraying. “gonna fill you up, make you take every drop. you want that, don’t you? want me to cum deep inside this perfect little pussy?”

his words, the raw hunger in them, send you spiraling, and you’re done for, the coil in your core snapping as another orgasm crashes through you. you scream into the tie, your body convulsing, your walls clamping down around him so hard it pulls a guttural moan from his throat.

he’s right there with you, his cock pulsing as he slams into you one last time, burying himself deep. “fuck,” he growls, and you feel him cum, hot and thick, filling you, his hips stuttering as he grinds against you, drawing out every shudder, every pulse.

you’re both trembling, panting, the car a haze of heat and sweat, his cock still buried inside you as you both come down, your body limp, completely spent, his cum and your juices mingling, dripping out around him. he leans over you, his breath ragged, his hand stroking your hip, possessive and grounding, as you both try to catch your breath in the sticky, fogged-up confines of the backseat.

he shifts, and you feel him move, his hands gripping your hips again, possessive but slower now. “good girl,” he murmurs, his voice rough, almost hoarse, and before you can process it, he’s pushing into you again, his softening cock sliding through the wet, nasty mess between your legs. it’s sloppy, the slick sounds obscene as he thrusts in, slow and deep, the sensation overwhelming your raw, sensitive walls.

you whimper, high and broken, your body jerking at the overstimulation, every nerve screaming as he fills you again, his cum and yours making everything wetter, messier.

“shh,” he says, but it’s softer now, less a command and more a coaxing, his hands kneading your hips as he rocks into you, lazy but deliberate, savoring the way you clench around him. your whimpers are constant, muffled by the tie, your body trembling uncontrollably, too sensitive, too full, but you can’t stop the way your hips twitch back into him, craving the feeling despite the intensity.

he leans over you, his chest pressing against your bound arms, and you feel his lips on your back, soft and warm, kissing a slow trail down your spine. “so good for me,” he murmurs against your skin, his voice low, almost tender, as he kisses lower, his lips brushing the curve of your back, grounding you in the haze of overstimulation. “look at you, taking it all, so fucking perfect.”

his thrusts slow, becoming more of a grind, his softening cock still buried deep, and you’re trembling, your body a live wire as he kisses down your spine one last time, his breath warm against your skin. he finally stills, his hands stroking your hips, your thighs, soothing the trembling as he stays inside you, letting you both catch your breath.

the car is quiet now, save for your muffled whimpers and his heavy breathing, the air thick with the aftermath, the windows fogged, the leather slick. he presses one final kiss to the small of your back, soft and reverent, before pulling out slowly, leaving you empty, spent, and utterly his in the hazy, sweaty confines of the backseat.

[gojosconsort]

breaking nanami's restraint

𓂃୨ৎ as a young barista, you tease nanami kento’s calm with shameless flirting because it’s just so fun until one night, he breaks.

𓂃୨ৎ pairing. afab!reader x older!office-worker!nanami

𓂃୨ৎ warnings. mdni. age gap (reader in early 20s, nanami in mid-40s), oral (both receiving), unprotected sex, cum play, dirty talk, begging, overstimulation, workplace setting, degradation (use of terms like "slut")

the café’s bell jingles, and your head snaps up. it’s him—nanami kento, the man who’s been driving you wild for weeks. mid-forties, tailored suit hugging his broad shoulders, blonde hair neat but just tousled enough to make your fingers itch.

he’s so hot, the kind of guy who could silence a room without trying. you’re barely out of college, working this downtown coffee shop to pay rent, and every time he steps in, you feel like you’re burning up.

“afternoon,” he says, voice deep and clipped, like he’s rationing words. he orders the same thing every time: black coffee, no sugar, croissant he picks at. it’s not about the food—you can tell by the way he watches you instead of the plate.

“hey, fancy seeing you,” you say, popping your hip against the counter, letting your skirt ride up just a bit. you’re not shy about it—leaning forward, cleavage peeking out of your low-cut top, giving him a smile that’s more heat than hospitality. his eyes flick down, just for a second, before locking onto yours. it’s quick, but you catch it, and it fuels you.

“usual?” you ask, already knowing the answer. you turn to the espresso machine, swaying your hips more than necessary, feeling his gaze like a weight on your skin. the café’s dead today, just the buzz of the fridge and some soft jazz you picked to set the mood. every move you make is for him—stretching to grab a cup, letting your shirt lift to show a little skin.

he nods, settling at his window table, tie knotted tight. he’s reserved, always is, but you’ve seen the cracks—those brief glances, the way his jaw ticks when you get too close. you want to shatter that composure, make him react, make him want you the way you’re dying for him.

you bring his order over, bending a little too far as you set it down, your hair brushing his hand. “so, you ever gonna mix it up, or is boring your thing?” you tease.

he glances up, expression unreadable. “i like what i like,” he says, flat but deliberate, and you swear there’s a spark in his eyes. it’s enough to keep you hooked.

“bet i could change your mind,” you say, winking, and saunter back to the counter, feeling his stare follow you. you’re shameless—flipping your hair, licking your lips when you catch him looking, dropping a spoon just to bend over and pick it up slow.

he doesn’t flinch, doesn’t blush, just sips his coffee like you’re not putting on a show. but he’s here, isn’t he? every other day, same time, same table. he likes it, even if he won’t admit it.

days went by, and you crank it up. one afternoon, it’s raining hard, and he’s the only one in the shop. you’re wiping tables near him, skirt short enough to make you blush if you cared. “you never tell me anything,” you pout, leaning close enough that your arm brushes his. “what’s a guy like you do all day? save the world? break hearts?”

“work,” he says, not looking up from his paper. “spreadsheets. meetings. nothing you’d care about.”

“oh, i care,” you say, voice low, resting your hand on the table, fingers grazing his. he doesn’t pull away, but his grip on the paper tightens. “you look like you could do anything and make it sexy.”

his eyes meet yours, steady and piercing. “you’re bold,” he says, and it’s not a compliment or an insult—just a fact. but the way his voice dips makes your thighs clench.

“you keep coming back, so it’s working,” you shoot back, grinning. you let your hand linger a second longer before pulling away, swaying back to the counter. you’re buzzing, heart racing, but he just goes back to his paper like nothing happened.

it’s maddening, and you love it.

the touches start small, always you initiating. you hand him his coffee, letting your fingers slide over his, slow and deliberate. he doesn’t react, but he doesn’t pull away either. another day, you’re passing him a napkin, and your wrist brushes his, skin on skin for a heartbeat. his eyes flick to yours, dark and unreadable, and you smile like you’ve won something.

one busy afternoon, the café’s packed, and you’re weaving through the crowd. he’s at his table, and you “accidentally” bump into him, your hip grazing his shoulder. “oops,” you say, turning to give him a coy look. his jaw clenches, just for a second, and you feel a rush knowing you got under his skin.

you keep pushing. wiping down his table, you lean over just enough to let him see down your shirt, pretending you don’t notice. you drop a pen near his chair and take your time picking it up, skirt riding up. every time, he’s stone—calm, controlled, sipping his damn coffee. but he’s here, and that’s your victory. he could go anywhere, but he picks your café, your teasing, your shameless flirting.

one night, you’re closing up, and he’s the last one left. you’re bold tonight, high on the thrill of the game. you lock the door, flip the sign to “closed,” and saunter over, leaning against his table, skirt barely covering your thighs. “you’re gonna miss your train,” you say.

he looks up, folding his paper with agonizing slowness. “i’ll manage.”

you tilt your head, letting your hair fall over one shoulder. “you know, i’m starting to think you like me making a fool of myself for you.”

he stands, towering over you, and for the first time, he steps close—close enough you can smell his cologne, feel the heat off him. his hand brushes your arm as he reaches for his coat, the touch so light you almost miss it, but it sends a jolt through you. “you’re not a fool,” he says, voice low, almost rough. “but you’re playing a dangerous game.”

your breath catches, but you don’t back down. “good thing i like danger,” you whisper, looking up through your lashes.

he holds your gaze, and for a second, you think he might break—might grab you, kiss you, something. but then he steps back, slipping on his coat. “see you tomorrow,” he says, and he’s gone, leaving you trembling and aching in the empty café.

that night, you’re sprawled across your bed, the faint hum of the city outside your window drowned out by the heat coursing through you. nanami’s burned into your mind, his sharp jaw, the way his suit clings to his frame, that maddening restraint in his eyes when you push his buttons.

you close your eyes, and he’s there—tie loose, sleeves rolled up, standing over you in the empty café. your hand’s already between your thighs, fingers slick, but it’s not enough. it’s never enough when it’s him you’re craving.

you imagine him grabbing your wrists, pinning them to the counter, his voice low and rough in your ear. “you’ve been teasing me for weeks,” he’d say, breath hot against your neck. “think i don’t notice?” you picture him pressing himself against you, his fat cock hard and heavy through his slacks, grinding into your hip until you’re whimpering.

your fingers move faster, desperate, but they’re a pale substitute for what you want—him, thick and stretching you, filling you so deep you’d feel it for days. you’d beg for it, you know you would, thighs spread wide on that counter, skirt hiked up, pleading for him to fuck you senseless.

in your fantasy, he’s not gentle. he’d yank your blouse open, buttons popping, mouth on your tits, sucking hard enough to leave marks. you’d arch into him, moaning his name—kento—and he’d growl, finally losing that iron grip on his control.

you imagine his hands, big and calloused, spreading your thighs, his cock nudging against you, teasing until you’re shaking. “this what you wanted?” he’d ask, voice dark, and then he’d thrust in, slow at first, letting you feel every inch, every vein, until he’s buried to the hilt.

your fingers curl inside you, trying to mimic the stretch, but it’s nothing compared to how you know he’d ruin you, pounding you until the café’s tables rattle, until you’re sobbing his name.

you want his weight on you, his sweat mixing with yours, his cock splitting you open while he mutters filthy things about how you’ve been asking for this, how you’ve been dripping for him every time you bent over in that short skirt. you’d claw at his back, legs wrapped around him, pulling him deeper, needing more, always more.

your orgasm builds, sharp and fast, as you picture him coming, groaning low in his throat, spilling inside you, hot and thick, claiming you in a way your fingers never could.

you cum with a gasp, body trembling, but it’s hollow. your hand’s not him, not his fat cock, not his hands or his mouth or the way he’d make you scream. you lie there, panting, wishing he was there to see you like this—wrecked, needy, all because of him.

the next day, you’re wired, the memory of your fantasy making you bold. the bell chimes, and nanami walks in, same suit, same stoic face, but you’re done playing subtle. “hey, you,” you say, voice dripping with mischief as you lean forward, letting your blouse gape just enough. “usual?”

he nods, eyes flicking over you, lingering a second too long. “yes. thank you.”

you pour his coffee, swaying your hips as you move, making sure he’s watching. when you bring it to his table, you lean in close, closer than necessary, your hair brushing his shoulder. “had a long night,” you say, voice low, teasing. “couldn’t stop thinking about you.”

his hand pauses on the cup, fingers tightening just slightly. he doesn’t look up, but you catch the faintest tic in his jaw. “that so?” he says, voice even, like he’s not fazed. but you’re not buying it.

“mmhm,” you hum, resting a hand on the table, fingers inches from his. “kept me up way too late. had to… take care of things myself.” you let the words hang, heavy and deliberate, watching for any crack in that stoic facade.

his eyes snap to yours, dark and intense, and you see it—the bulge in his slacks, unmistakable, growing as your words sink in. his jaw clenches, knuckles white around the cup, but he doesn’t move, doesn’t speak. you smirk, knowing you’ve got him, and saunter back to the counter, hips swaying. “you’re here every day,” you call over your shoulder. “guess i’m not the only one who can’t stay away.”

he stays silent, but his stare burns into you, and you know you’re chipping away at that restraint. you’re not done—not until he breaks and gives you everything you’ve been fantasizing about.

the next day, the bell chimes, and nanami steps in, suit crisp, face as unreadable as ever, but you’re not fooled. he’s here, same time, same table.

that’s all the proof you need.

you’re behind the counter, blouse unbuttoned just enough to tease, skirt clinging to your hips. “usual, handsome?” you call out, voice dripping with intent, leaning forward so he gets a good view.

he nods, eyes flicking over you, lingering on the curve of your chest before meeting your gaze. “yes,” he says, voice steady, but there’s a tightness there, like he’s holding himself in check.

you pour his coffee, making a show of it, bending slightly to let your skirt ride up. when you bring it to his table, you lean in close, your hand brushing his as you set the cup down. “so,” you murmur, low and sultry, “you ever touch yourself thinking about me? ‘cause i sure as hell do thinking about you.”

his eyes narrow, and for a second, you think you’ve got him—his breath catches, just barely. but then he leans back, folding his arms, studying you like you’re a problem he’s solving. “how old are you?” he asks, voice calm but pointed.

you grin, undeterred, propping a hand on your hip. “early twenties. why, you worried i’m too young for you?”

he exhales, almost a scoff, but his gaze doesn’t waver. “i’m old enough to be your dad.”

your pulse spikes, and you lean closer, letting your voice drop to a purr. “even better.”

his jaw tightens, and there it was again—the bulge in his slacks, betraying him. he shifts in his seat, trying to hide it, but you’re already smirking, knowing you’ve hit a nerve. “you’re playing with fire,” he says, low and rough, but he doesn’t get up, doesn’t leave.

“good,” you whisper, straightening up, giving him a view of your ass as you saunter back to the counter. “i like it hot.”

he doesn’t respond, just watches you with that heavy, unreadable stare, but he stays, sipping his coffee, and you know you’re wearing him down, inch by filthy inch.

that evening, you’re closing up, the café dark except for the glow of the streetlights filtering through the windows. nanami’s still there, the last one, lingering at his table with his coffee long gone, pretending to read his paper. you know he’s watching you, and you’re not about to waste the chance. you lock the door, flip the sign to “closed,” and turn up the heat.

you saunter toward him, rag in hand and stop at his table, leaning over to grab his empty cup, “accidentally” knocking over a water glass. it splashes across his slacks, soaking the fabric over his thigh. “oh, shit,” you say, fake-apologetic, grabbing the rag. “let me fix that.”

before he can protest, you’re on your knees between his legs, right there in the dim café. you press the rag to his thigh, rubbing slow, your hands dangerously close to the obvious bulge straining against his pants.

he’s hard—so hard—and you feel a thrill knowing it’s because of you. you look up at him, all innocent, but your eyes say something else. “can’t let you leave all messy,” you murmur, and then, bold as hell, you lean in and drag your tongue over the wet spot on his slacks, tasting the faint salt of the water and the heat of him beneath.

his breath hitches, loud in the quiet, and you feel his thigh tense under your hands. you glance up, and his control’s gone—eyes dark, jaw clenched, hands gripping the table like he’s holding himself back. “what the hell are you doing?” he growls, voice rough, but he doesn’t push you away.

“cleaning up,” you say, all coy, licking your lips as you hold his gaze. you press your palm against his bulge, just enough to make him hiss, and that’s it—he snaps.

nanami grabs your arms, hauling you up and onto the table in one swift move, papers and cups scattering. his mouth crashes into yours, hard and hungry, all that pent-up restraint pouring out. it’s messy, desperate—his tongue claiming yours, teeth grazing your lip, one hand fisting in your hair while the other grips your hip, pulling you flush against him. you moan into his mouth, tasting coffee and him, your hands clawing at his tie, yanking it loose.

“you’ve been begging for this,” he mutters against your lips, voice raw, his hard-on pressing into your thigh through his slacks. “fucking relentless.”

“and you love it,” you gasp, arching into him, skirt riding up as he slots himself between your legs. his kiss is bruising, all control and want, and you’re dizzy with it, with him finally giving in, ready to see how much further you can push him.

nanami’s hands are everywhere—yanking your hair, gripping your hips, his hard-on grinding into you through his slacks. you’re dizzy, thighs trembling, but he’s not done. not even close. he pulls back, eyes black with want, and you see the moment he decides to ruin you.

“you’ve been asking for this,” he growls, voice thick with need. your skirt’s already bunched up, and he doesn’t bother with finesse—his hands shove your thighs apart, rough and impatient, spreading you open. you’re soaked, panties clinging to you, and the way he looks at you, like he’s starving, makes your core clench.

“fuck, look at you,” he mutters, almost to himself, as he hooks his fingers under your panties and rips them down, tossing them somewhere behind the counter. you gasp, but it’s cut off when he drops to his knees, his broad shoulders forcing your legs wider. his hands dig into your thighs, holding you in place, and then his mouth’s on you, no warning, no teasing—just raw, filthy hunger.

his tongue dives into your folds, lapping at you like he’s been deprived for years. it’s messy, wet, obscene—his lips sucking your clit, tongue flicking over it before plunging inside you, tasting every inch of your dripping cunt. you moan, loud and shameless, hands fisting in his hair, pulling hard enough to make him groan against you. the vibrations shoot through you, and your hips buck, grinding against his face, but he holds you down, fingers bruising your skin.

“stay still,” he orders, voice muffled but sharp, and you try, but it’s impossible when he’s eating you out like this, like he wants to devour every last drop. his tongue fucks into you, deep and relentless, then drags up to circle your clit, sucking hard until you’re whimpering, thighs shaking. you’re a mess—slick dripping down your thighs, coating his chin, and he doesn’t care, doesn’t let up, just licks you harder, greedier.

“kento,” you gasp, voice breaking, and he growls, doubling down. he’s sloppy, unhinged, nothing like the controlled man who orders black coffee. his hands slide to your ass, pulling you closer, tongue working you open as he moans into your pussy, like he’s getting off on this as much as you are. you can feel him, hard and straining in his slacks, but he’s too focused on you, on making you feel good.

you’re close, so close, the heat coiling tight in your belly. he knows it—senses it in the way you tighten around his tongue—and he pushes harder, sucking your clit into his mouth, flicking it with quick, brutal strokes. “come for me,” he demands, voice rough against your skin, and that’s all it takes. you shatter, crying out, hips jerking as your orgasm rips through you, slick gushing against his mouth. he doesn’t stop, lapping up every bit, drawing it out until you’re whining, oversensitive, legs trembling.

he pulls back, finally, lips glistening, eyes wild as he looks up at you. his hair’s a mess from your hands, tie hanging loose, and you can see the bulge in his slacks, bigger than before, straining like he’s about to burst. you’re panting, still catching your breath, but you manage a shaky grin. “fuck, nanami, you’re filthy.”

“you have no idea,” he says, standing, voice dark with promise as he wipes his mouth with the back of his hand, already reaching for his belt.

“my turn,” you purr, sliding off the table, legs shaky but determined. you drop to your knees in front of him, the café’s dim light casting shadows over his sharp features. his jaw tightens as you reach for his zipper, tugging it down slow, teasing, until his cock springs free. it’s thick, heavy, veins pulsing, and your mouth waters at the sight. he’s bigger than you imagined, and you’ve imagined a lot.

“fuck,” you whisper, gripping him at the base, feeling him twitch in your hand. you look up, meeting his dark gaze, and give him a wicked grin before leaning in, dragging your tongue along the underside, slow and deliberate. he groans, low and guttural, one hand bracing against the table as you swirl your tongue around the tip, tasting the bead of precum there.

you don’t ease him into it. you take him deep, lips stretching around his girth, hollowing your cheeks as you bob your head, sloppy and eager. he’s so thick it’s a struggle, but you love it—the way he fills your mouth, the way his hips jerk slightly, like he’s fighting to stay in control. you push further, nose brushing his pelvis, throat constricting as you swallow around him.

“shit,” he hisses, hand fisting in your hair, not gentle but not cruel—yet. “you’re too fucking good at this.”

you hum, the vibration making him curse again, and you pick up the pace, sucking hard, letting spit drip down your chin. it’s messy, rough, your hands gripping his thighs for leverage as you take him deeper, faster. he’s close, you can feel it—his breaths ragged, his grip tightening, hips starting to thrust, shallow at first, then harder, fucking your mouth like he can’t hold back anymore.

“look at you,” he growls, voice raw, “taking it so well, so fucking greedy.” his words send a jolt through you, and you moan around him, letting him use you, loving the way he’s losing it. he’s rough now, thrusting deep, hitting the back of your throat until your eyes water, but you don’t care—you want him wrecked, want him to break.

his control slips completely, hips snapping, hand guiding your head as he fucks your mouth. you’re a mess—spit slicking your lips, tears streaking your cheeks, but you keep going, hollowing your cheeks, sucking like you’re starving for him. “gonna come,” he warns, voice strained, and you double down, taking him as deep as you can, moaning to push him over the edge.

he snaps, a low groan ripping from his throat as he comes, hard and sudden, flooding your mouth with hot, thick spurts. it’s so much, more than you expected, spilling past your lips, dripping down your chin as you try to swallow it all. he keeps thrusting, shallow now, riding it out, and you let him, milking every last drop until he’s shuddering, grip loosening in your hair.

you pull back, gasping, his cum smeared across your lips, dripping onto your chest, staining your blouse. you swipe a finger through the mess on your chin, sucking it clean while holding his gaze, and he groans again, like you’re killing him.

“fuck,” he mutters, still catching his breath, looking down at you like he’s seeing you for the first time—wrecked, filthy, perfect. “you’re a goddamn menace.”

you grin, voice hoarse. “and you’re still hard.” you nod at his cock, still half-erect, and his eyes darken.

“get up,” he orders, voice low and rough, sending a shiver through you. you stand, legs wobbly, and he grabs your waist, spinning you around to face the table. his hands are rough, shoving you forward until your hips slam against the edge, your palms slapping the surface to brace yourself.

he’s behind you, heat radiating off him, and you feel his cock—hard again, impossibly thick—press against your ass.

“you wanted this,” he growls, yanking your skirt up higher, exposing you completely and you’re dripping, slick coating your thighs. his hand slides between your legs, fingers grazing your folds, and you gasp, pushing back against him. he chuckles, dark and mean. “so fucking wet. you’re desperate, aren’t you?”

“please, kento,” you whine, wiggling your hips, but he slaps your ass, sharp enough to sting, making you yelp.

“not yet,” he says, voice cold, controlled, but you hear the edge in it, the hunger he’s barely reining in. “you’ve been teasing me for weeks, acting like a little slut. you don’t get it that easy.”

his fingers tease you, circling your clit, slow and torturous, never giving you enough. you squirm, trying to grind against his hand, but he grips your hip, holding you still. “beg,” he demands, leaning over you, his breath hot against your ear. “tell me how bad you want it.”

“fuck, please,” you gasp, voice breaking. “i need you, kento, need your cock, please, just fuck me.”

“not good enough,” he says, pulling his hand away, leaving you empty and aching. you whimper, frustration burning, but he’s relentless, sliding his cock between your thighs, letting it glide against your slick folds without entering. it’s torture—his thick length so close, brushing your clit, but not giving you what you need. “say it like you mean it.”

“kento, please, i’m begging,” you sob, pushing back, desperate. “i need you inside me, need you to fuck me so hard i can’t walk, please, i’ll do anything.”

he groans, low and primal, and you feel him line up, the fat tip of his cock nudging your entrance. “that’s better,” he mutters, but he doesn’t move, just holds himself there, stretching you just enough to make you whine. “you sure you can take it? i’m not small, and you’re so fucking tight.”

“i can take it,” you pant, though you’re not sure, not with how massive he feels, but you want it, want him to ruin you. “please, just do it.”

he doesn’t ease in. he thrusts, hard and deep, forcing his cock into you in one brutal stroke. you cry out, the stretch burning, overwhelming—he’s so big, so thick, it feels like he’s splitting you open.

your walls clench around him, struggling to take him, and he hisses, gripping your hips so hard you’ll bruise. “fuck, you’re tight,” he growls, pulling back just to slam in again, rough and unforgiving.

it hurts, but it’s good, so fucking good, the way he fills you completely, hitting spots you didn’t know existed. you’re moaning, incoherent, nails scratching the table as he sets a punishing pace, each thrust jarring your body, the table digging into your hips. “kento, oh god,” you gasp, barely able to speak, and he laughs, low and cruel.

“thought you could handle it,” he taunts, leaning over you, his chest pressed to your back. “look at you, barely taking half.” he thrusts harder, deeper, and you scream, feeling him bully his way into your core, stretching you to your limit. “beg me to slow down.”

“no,” you choke out, defiant even as tears prick your eyes. “harder, please, fuck me harder.”

he groans, like your words snap something in him, and he gives it to you—pounding into you, relentless, the sound of skin slapping skin filling the café. your legs shake, barely holding you up, but his hands keep you in place, fucking you like he’s trying to break you. “greedy little thing,” he mutters, one hand sliding to your clit, rubbing rough circles that make you see stars. “come on, beg for it again.”

“please, kento, make me come,” you sob, so close but not there, his cock overwhelming, his fingers merciless. “need it, need you, please.”

“not yet,” he says, slowing just enough to drag it out, torturing you with long, deep strokes that keep you teetering on the edge. you’re whimpering, pleading, but he holds you there, making you feel every inch of him, every brutal thrust. “you come when i say.”

you’re a wreck, body trembling, cunt clenching around him, and finally, finally, he picks up the pace again, slamming into you, fingers working your clit until you’re screaming, your orgasm crashing over you, gushing around his cock. he doesn’t stop, fucking you through it, chasing his own release, and you’re oversensitive, whining, but he doesn’t care.

“fuck, gonna fill you up,” he groans, thrusts erratic, and then he’s coming, hot and thick, so much it spills out, dripping down your thighs. he keeps moving, milking it, until you’re both panting, spent, your body limp against the table.

he pulls out, slow, and you whimper at the emptiness, his cum leaking from you, pooling on the floor. he steps back, breathing hard, watching you—messy, dripping, barely able to stand—and mutters, “look at the mess you made.”

you try to catch your breath, grinning shakily. “worth it,” you rasp, voice hoarse from screaming his name. but he doesn’t smile back, doesn’t soften. instead, he steps closer, towering over you, one hand gripping your hip to keep you in place.

“you think we’re done?” he growls, voice low and dangerous, sending a fresh pulse of heat through you. his other hand slides between your legs, fingers finding the mess he left, his cum dripping from your swollen cunt. you gasp, oversensitive, as he scoops it up, thick and warm, and pushes it back inside you with two fingers, slow and deliberate.

“kento—fuck,” you whimper, hips jerking as he curls his fingers, shoving his cum deeper, your walls fluttering around him. it’s obscene, the wet squelch of it, the way he’s claiming you again, making sure every drop stays inside. you’re trembling, barely able to stand, but he doesn’t let up, fucking his cum back into you with a focus that makes your head spin.

“you’re gonna keep this,” he murmurs, almost to himself, eyes locked on where his fingers disappear inside you. “every fucking bit of it.” his thumb brushes your clit, rough and relentless, and you cry out, oversensitive but helpless under his touch. he’s not gentle—his fingers pump deeper, harder, like he’s punishing you for how much you want it, how much you’re still clenching around him.

“look at you,” he says, “dripping with me, still so fucking needy.” he leans in, lips brushing your ear, his breath hot. “you’re mine now, you know that? gonna fuck you so full you’ll feel me for days.”

you moan, head falling back against the table, your body arching into his hand. his fingers are relentless, pushing his cum deeper, stretching you, and you’re already building again, despite the ache, despite how wrecked you are. “please, kento,” you beg, voice breaking, “make me come again.”

he chuckles, dark and cruel, and adds a third finger, the stretch making you gasp, his cum and your slick coating his hand. “greedy little slut,” he mutters, but there’s heat in it, like he’s loving every second of your desperation. he works you harder, thumb circling your clit, fingers fucking you until you’re sobbing, another orgasm ripping through you, gushing around his hand, mixing with his cum.

he doesn’t pull out right away, keeping his fingers inside, holding his release there like a promise. you’re panting, limp, his cum still leaking despite his efforts, and he smirks, finally pulling his hand free. he brings his fingers to your lips, smeared with both of you, and you suck them clean without hesitation, tasting him, tasting yourself, eyes locked on his.

“filthy,” he says, almost proud, wiping his hand on your thigh before stepping back, adjusting his tie like nothing happened. “clean yourself up. i’ll see you tomorrow.”

you’re left there, shaking, his cum still inside you, knowing you’ll feel him every time you move, and already craving the next time he walks through that door.

[gojosconsort]

gojo who makes u take him all the way 2 the base whenever u say hes being too mean !! then he'll let u come up for a breather before pressing u down again n watch u squirm ^^

𓂃୨ৎ mdni. oral (m receiving), deepthroating, choking

“fuck, you’re so pretty like this,” satoru groans, voice low, but there’s a taunting edge. your throat burns, spit dripping down your chin, and you try to pull back, gasping, “satoru, you’re being too mean.”

his eyes flash, and that smirk widens, dangerous. “oh, you think i’m mean?” he says, gripping your hair tighter. “then take it all, babe. all the way.”

before you can protest, he pushes your head down, slow but firm, until your nose brushes the base of his cock, his pubes tickling your face. he’s so deep, stretching your throat, and you can’t breathe, eyes watering, gagging around him.

“there we go,” he murmurs, almost reverent, “that’s my good girl.” he holds you there, watching you struggle, his cock twitching in your throat. “look at you, squirming so cute,” he teases, thumb brushing a tear from your cheek.

after a beat, he lets you up, and you pull off, gasping for air, lips swollen, drool everywhere. “mean enough for you?” he asks, grinning, but you barely catch your breath before he’s guiding you back down, cock sliding deep again.

“satoru,” you whine around him, voice muffled, and he chuckles. “say i’m mean again, and we’ll see how deep you can go,” he taunts, pushing you to the base once more.

you gag, throat tight, but he’s moaning now, head tilted back, “fuck, your mouth��s so perfect.” your squirming’s got him harder, his grip relentless, and you’re dripping, the heat between your legs unbearable.

he lets you up again, air rushing into your lungs, and you’re a mess—tears streaking your face, lips slick with spit and his cum.

“so fucking gorgeous,” he says, pulling you onto his lap, your knees straddling him. “you did so well, taking me like that.” his cock’s still hard, pressing against your soaked panties, and you whimper, grinding against him.

“want more?” he asks, voice soft but teasing, hands sliding under your shirt, thumbs brushing your nipples. you nod, desperate, and he yanks your panties aside, lining his cock up with your dripping pussy. “say i’m mean,” he murmurs, smirking, and you do, voice shaky, “you’re so mean, satoru.”

he groans, thrusting up, filling you in one hard push, his cock stretching you so good you cry out. “fuck, that’s what i wanted,” he growls, hands on your hips, slamming you down onto him. each thrust’s brutal, his cock hitting deep, making you moan loud, just how he likes.

your walls clench tight around him, pleasure building fast, and he’s watching you, eyes dark, loving every sound you make. “you’re so fucking hot,” he moans, pulling you down to kiss you, tongue messy, swallowing your cries. you’re close, and he knows it, thrusting harder, one hand sliding to rub your clit, fast and rough.

“cum for me,” he pants, and you do, hard, your pussy squeezing his cock as you scream his name, shaking, vision blurring. he’s right behind you, groaning, “fuck, babe, feels so good—” his cock pulses, cumming deep inside you, hot and thick, filling you up as he thrusts slow, riding it out.

you’re both panting, his arms wrapping around you, keeping you close. he kisses your neck, soft now. “call me mean again,” he murmurs, “and i’ll make you take it all night.”

you shiver, still feeling him inside, and know he’s not joking. “you’re awful,” you whisper, and he laughs, pushing you back down, his cock hardening again.

“what was that?”

[gojosconsort]

little troublemaker // toji fushiguro

𓂃୨ৎ you’re a hotheaded mess and toji’s the older man who just knows just how to handle you by ripping your clothes off and making you bounce on his tongue ‘til you’re screaming (and creaming).

𓂃୨ৎ pairing. afab!reader x older bf!toji

𓂃୨ৎ warnings. mdni. mean!toji, oral (f receiving), tongue fucking, spanking, edging, bad dirty talk, multiple orgasms, age gap, overstimulation

you’re a fuckin’ mess, and toji knows it. he’s sprawled out on the couch in that tight black shirt that hugs his stupidly broad chest, one arm slung over the backrest, the other holding a half-empty beer. his green eyes flick over to you as you stomp into the room, your heels clicking loud as hell on the hardwood floor.

you’re pissed—again. some dumbass at the bar wouldn’t leave you alone, and now you’re buzzing with that chaotic energy toji both loves and hates.

“what’s your problem now, huh?” he drawls, that scar on his lip twitching like he’s already smirkin’ at whatever bullshit you’re about to spew. “some creep kept tryna feel me up,” you snap, tossing your bag on the counter with a loud thud. “had to elbow him in the fuckin’ face just to get him off me.” toji raises an eyebrow, takin’ a slow sip of his beer. “and you didn’t call me to handle it?”

“didn’t need to,” you shoot back, crossing your arms. your skirt’s ridin’ up a little, and you don’t even notice how his gaze drops to your thighs, lingerin’ on the sheer black stockings you’ve got on. “i can handle my own shit.”

“yeah, sure you can, doll,” he says, settin’ the beer down on the coffee table. he leans forward, elbows on his knees, and that lazy grin spreads wider. “bet you looked real cute throwin’ that elbow, though.”

“fuck off,” you mutter, but there’s a heat creepin’ up your neck ‘cause you know he’s right. you’re a little unhinged, sure, but toji eats that shit up like it’s his favorite meal.

he stands up, all 6’2” of him towerin’ over you as he steps closer. his shadow falls over you, and you can smell that mix of sweat, cologne, and somethin’ faintly metallic—like he’s been out doin’ shady shit again. “c’mere,” he says, voice droppin’ an octave, and before you can argue, his big-ass hand’s wrapped around your wrist, yankin’ you toward him.

“toji, i’m not in the mood—” you start, but he cuts you off with a rough kiss, teeth clackin’ against yours. it’s sloppy, nasty, his tongue shovin’ into your mouth like he owns it. you bite his lip outta spite, and he just groans, pullin’ back with that scar stretchin’ into a feral smirk.

“you’re always in the mood for me, brat,” he says, and then he’s draggin’ you down the hall, your heels scraping the floor ‘cause you’re too stubborn to keep up.

next thing you know, you’re in his room—well, your room now, ‘cause he’s basically claimed you at this point. the bed’s a mess, sheets all tangled from last night when he fucked you ‘til you couldn’t walk straight. he kicks the door shut, and then he’s on you, hands rippin’ at your clothes.

“toji, chill—” you yelp, but he’s already got your top yanked over your head, tossin’ it somewhere behind him. your skirt’s next, zipper torn halfway down before he just says fuck it and rips it off, leavin’ you in nothin’ but your bra, panties, and those damn stockings. he pauses for a sec, eyes raking over you, and you swear you see his pupils blow out. “fuckin’ hell,” he mutters, voice all raspy. “look at you, all dolled up in them stockings. you tryna kill me?”

“maybe,” you shoot back, smirking even though your heart’s pounding. he undoes your bra with one hand—fuckin’ showoff—and then he’s pushin’ you back ‘til your knees hit the bed. you stumble, landing on your ass, and he hovers over you, then leaning in, breath hot against your chest as his rough fingers find your nipples.

“look at these fuckin’ things,” he mutters, pinching one between his thumb and finger ‘til you hiss. it’s sharp, stinging a little, but then he rolls it slow, teasing, and you feel that heat shoot straight down your spine. you squirm, trying to arch up into him, but he just smirks, other hand squeezing your tit hard enough to make you gasp. “so damn sensitive, huh? bet i could make you cum just from this.”

“shut up,” you snap, but it’s weak, ‘cause he’s already got you moaning, tugging and twisting your nipples ‘til they’re hard and aching. he leans down, tongue flicking over one, all wet and nasty, then sucks it into his mouth, teeth grazing just enough to keep you on edge.

you’re getting wetter by the second, thighs trembling, but he’s taking his sweet time, switching to the other side, biting soft then licking like he’s tryna torture you. every time you think you’re close, he pulls back, letting the cool air hit your spit-slick skin, and you’re whining like a little bitch ‘cause he won’t let you tip over.

“toji... c’mon, stop fuckin’ around,” you pant, hands grabbing at his hair, but he just chuckles, that deep, dirty sound that makes your pussy clench. “patience, brat,” he says, giving your nipple one last hard pinch that has you crying out. then, finally, he’s ripping your panties off like they’re paper, tossing ‘em aside.

“toji, you asshole, those were expensive!” you snap, but he just laughs, low and dirty, and then he’s grabbing your thighs, spreading ‘em wide for him. you’re still in those sheer black stockings, the kind with a little shimmer that catches the light, and he groans like he’s about to lose it.

“worth it,” he says, and then he’s lifting you up—fuck, he’s strong—tossing you higher up on the bed like you weigh nothing. you land with a bounce, sprawling out, and he’s climbing over you, that big, scarred hand gripping your ankle to drag you back toward him.

“what’re you—” you start, but he cuts you off by flipping you onto your stomach, yanking your hips up so your ass is in the air. you barely have time to brace yourself before he’s diving in, face-first, tongue licking a hot sloppy stripe up your pussy.

“oh, fuck!” you gasp, hands clawing at the sheets. he’s not playing around—no slow buildup, no teasing. he’s eating you out like a man starved, tongue flicking over your clit so fast your vision blurs. you try to squirm, but his hands—big, rough, fuckin’ calloused—clamp down on your ass, squeezing hard enough to leave bruises.

“where you goin’?” he growls against you, voice muffled but still sending vibrations straight through your core. “you’re ridin’ my face tonight, baby girl. ain’t no escaping that.”

“toji—shit... wait—” you stammer, but he’s not listening. he flips onto his back, pulling you with him so you’re straddling his head, thighs trembling as he yanks you down onto his mouth. your knees dig into the mattress, stockings slipping a little, but he don’t care—he’s too busy burying his tongue inside you.

“fuckin’ grind on me,” he grunts, hands gripping your ass cheeks, spreading ‘em apart as he pulls you harder against his face. you can feel his scar scraping your inner thigh, that rough edge making you shiver. you’re a mess already, moaning loud as hell, hips rocking on instinct ‘cause it feels so damn good.

“toji—oh my god—” you choke out, head spinning as his tongue flicks over your clit, then dives back into you, fucking relentless. he’s groaning too, like he’s getting off on this as much as you are, and you can feel the wet heat of his breath against your skin. your hands grab the headboard, knuckles white, ‘cause you’re pretty sure you’re about to pass out.

he pulls back just a sec, lips glistening, scar twitching as he grins up at you. “look at you, fuckin’ soaked,” he says, then flicks his tongue out, teasing your clit with these light little taps that got you whining. you try to push down harder, chase that high, but he grabs your hips, holding you up just enough so you can’t get it all.

“nah, slow down, doll,” he growls, then sucks your clit into his mouth, hard and fast, only to pop off right when your thighs start shaking. you curse him out, voice all hoarse and pissed, but he just laughs, hot breath tickling you as he licks a slow, lazy stripe up your slit, stopping short of where you need him.

“toji—fuckin’ quit it!” you snap, yanking at his hair, but he don’t care—he loves seeing you squirm. his hands knead your ass, spreading you open wider, and he dives back in, tongue fuckin’ you deep again, nose brushing your clit ‘til you’re a moaning mess. he’s got you right on that edge, playing you like a damn fiddle.

but you’re done with his teasing bullshit—time to take what you want. “fuck this,” you pant, gripping the headboard tighter, nails digging into the wood as you lift your hips just enough to line up right over his mouth ain’t giving him a chance to talk smack this time.

you slam down, pussy smacking against his tongue, and start bouncing on it like it’s his dick instead. up and down, hard and fast, fuckin’ his face like you’re tryna grind him into the mattress.

“shit—yeah, that’s it,” he groans, voice muffled and sloppy, hands snapping up to your ass to hold you steady. his tongue’s out, thick and flat, lettin’ you use it however you want, and you’re riding it wild, clit dragging over the wet heat every time you drop. then—crack—his palm slams down on your ass, hard enough to make you yelp, the sting mixing with the pleasure as your skin burns hot under his grip.

“keep fuckin’ bouncin’, brat,” he growls, spanking you again, other cheek this time, and the sharp smack echoes in the room. your thighs burn, stockings slipping down a little with how rough you’re going, but you don’t give a fuck—feels too damn good, that slick slide and bounce, the way his grip bruises your cheeks as he tries to keep up. he’s spanking you agian, your pussy clench tighter, wetter, dripping all over his face.

“you like that, huh?” he mutters, hand coming down again so hard you’re pretty sure you’ll feel it tomorrow. “ride my fuckin’ tongue. lemme taste you.” his fingers dig into your ass harder, pulling you down so tight you can barely breathe, and you’re fucking his tongue, slick and messy and so damn nasty you can hear the wet sounds filling the room.

“fuck—s-so good,” you gasp, head thrown back, hair sticking to your sweaty neck as you bounce harder, feeling his tongue push up into you every time you come down. he’s moaning now, deep and raw, like he’s the one getting off, and maybe he is—his nose keeps bumping your clit, sending jolts through you that got your legs shaking. you’re relentless, fuckin’ his mouth like it’s a workout and he’s just taking it, letting you ride him into the ground.

your pussy’s throbbing, so close you can taste it, and you grind down one last time, hard, bouncing slow and deep ‘til you feel that wave crashing over you, screaming his name as you cum all over his damn face. he don’t stop, though, keeps licking, keeps squeezing, ‘til you’re tryna push him off ‘cause it’s too much. “toji—fuck—stop, i can’t—” you gasp, but he just growls and yanks you back down, making you take it.

“nah, you can,” he says, all smug and rough. “gimme another one.” and then he’s right back at it, tongue fuckin’ you open, lips sucking on your clit ‘til you’re seeing stars. you’re a mess, sobbing into the sheets, stockings slipping down your thighs as you collapse forward, but he don’t let up. he’s holding you up with those stupidly strong arms, making you cum again—then again—‘til your legs are jelly and your voice is shot.

finally, he pulls back, face glistening with you, that scar stretching as he grins like the devil himself. “told ya you’d ride me ‘til you couldn’t,” he says, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. you’re panting, barely able to glare at him through the haze, but he just chuckles and flops back on the bed, pulling you down onto his chest.

“you’re such a dick,” you mutter, voice hoarse, but you’re already curling up against him, too fucked out to care. he wraps an arm around you, heavy and warm, and you can feel his heartbeat under your cheek—steady, smug, like he knows he just ruined you.

“but i’m your dick,” he says with a kiss to your forehead.

[gojosconsort]

clingy geto who neeeeds to hug u close during sex <3 makes him feel all warm n fuzzy inside ykyk

𓂃୨ৎ mdni. creampie, clingy suguru

“suguru,” you murmur, reaching for suguru’s hand. he catches your fingers instantly, his grip firm and gentle, as if you might slip away. he’s always touchy, but tonight it’s like he can’t breathe without you close.

“need you,” he mumbles, voice low, pulling you into him. his forehead to yours, breath hot on your lips. “don’t go anywhere, yeah?”

you nod, chest tight. he’s got you pressed against him now, arms around your waist, face buried in your neck. his lips brush your skin, soft kisses turning into slow, wet ones that make you shiver. he’s warm, smells like cedar and something faintly sweet, and you can feel his heart pounding.

“you’re mine,” he whispers, kissing up your jaw. his hands slide under your shirt, palms hot as he traces your sides, tugging the fabric up. you help him yank it off, and he’s staring, eyes dark, like he’s starving. “fuck, you’re so pretty.”

he’s kissing you now, hard and desperate, tongue sliding against yours. you feel him hard against your thigh, his cock straining through his pants, and it’s got you squirming. but he’s not rushing, not suguru, not tonight. he’s all about keeping you close, like he’s scared you’ll vanish. “wanna feel you,” he says, voice rough, hands gripping your hips. “every fucking part.”

you nod, fumbling with your pants. he helps, fingers quick but careful, and soon you’re both naked, his skin hot against yours. his body’s lean, all muscle, and his cock’s hard, tip already wet as it brushes your leg. he pulls you into his arms, not letting an inch of space between you, and you feel him tremble faintly.

suguru pushes you down onto the bed, climbing over you. he grabs your thigh, hooking it over his hip, but doesn’t push in yet. instead, he holds you tight, arms around your shoulders, lips on your neck. “love you,” he mumbles, kissing hard enough to leave marks and then he lines up, cock nudging your entrance, and pushes in slow, groaning loud as your pussy stretches around him.

you’re wet, slick from just his kisses, and he fills you up, thick and hot, making you gasp. “fuck, suguru—”

“so tight,” he groans, burying his face in your neck. he stays still for a second, just feeling you, arms squeezing you closer. your pussy’s so warm, so perfect around him, like it was made for his cock, and he’s losing it, every nerve screaming how good you feel. then he starts moving, slow thrusts, deep, his cock dragging against your walls. every push has you moaning, the stretch perfect, his tip hitting spots that make you see stars.

his hands are everywhere, grabbing your ass, your waist, keeping you pressed against him. “feel so good,” he mutters, voice shaky. “so fucking wet for me.” he’s thrusting harder now, hips snapping, but he’s still holding you so close, chest to chest, lips brushing yours in sloppy kisses.

you’re burning up, the way he’s fucking you slow but hard, like he’s savoring every second. “suguru,” you whine, nails digging into his back. he moans, low and rough, and shifts, grabbing your other leg to spread you wider. he pulls out almost all the way, then slams back in, making you cry out.

“love hearing you,” he says, kissing you messy, tongue everywhere. “could fuck you forever.” he’s speeding up, cock pounding into you, wet sounds filling the room. your pussy’s clenching, pleasure building fast, and he knows it, smirking against your lips. “gonna cum for me?”

“y-yeah,” you gasp, head spinning. he groans, thrusts getting sloppy, and he’s still holding you so damn close, like he can’t let go. “fuck, suguru, i’m—”

he cuts you off with a kiss, deep and sloppy, and slides a hand between you, fingers finding your clit. he rubs fast, tight circles, and you’re gone, cumming hard around his cock, body shaking as you scream his name. your pussy’s squeezing him tight, and he’s right behind you, moaning loud as he thrusts deep, spilling inside you.

his cock pulses, cum hot and thick, and it feels so fucking good, like he’s claiming you, every spurt making him shudder with how perfect you are. his cum’s warm, filling you up, and he keeps moving, slow pumps, like he’s milking every drop.

“fuck,” he pants, still holding you, cock softening but still inside. he doesn’t pull out, just keeps you close, arms wrapped tight, face in your hair.

“you’re so clingy today,” you tease, feeling his cock still buried in you, cum leaking out. he groans, nuzzling closer, arms tightening like he’s never letting go.

“you say that like it’s a bad thing,” he murmurs, pulling back just enough to kiss you, slow and deep, tongue sliding against yours, making your head spin. he breaks the kiss, eyes dark and playful. “ready for round two, baby?”

[gojosconsort]

Aftercare with gojo after him being mean and rough to reader🙏🏻🙏🏻

𓂃୨ৎ mdni. degradation mentioned, aftercare, soft gojo

your body’s still trembling, sheets tangled around your legs, skin slick with sweat. satoru’s been so mean tonight. hips snapping hard, his words sharp and mean, calling you his little slut, his toy, while he fucked you into the mattress. every thrust left you gasping, his cock stretching you past your limits, leaving you raw and aching between your thighs.

you always wondered how he did that tho—going from being mean and fucking you so hard to being so soft afterwards.

“you okay, pretty girl?” he murmurs, voice low, blue eyes searching yours. he’s hovering over you, one hand brushing damp hair from your face. you nod, too fucked out to speak, and he frowns, leaning down to kiss your forehead, lips lingering. “shit, i went hard, didn’t i? c’mere.”

he pulls you into his chest, arms tight, and carries you to the bathroom, your legs useless. he sets you on the counter, running warm water, grabbing a cloth. “hold still,” he says, wiping the mess between your thighs, gentle around your sensitive pussy. “did so good for me,” he mutters, kissing your cheek. he cleans you slowly, hands tender, like you’re fragile glass.

his arms wrap around you, pulling you close, chin on your shoulder. “love you,” he says, nuzzling your neck, fingers massaging your sore hips. later, wrapped in a fluffy towel, he carries you to bed, tucking you under blankets. “no moving,” he teases, kissing your forehead.

the next days he’s basically your shadow—carrying you to the kitchen when you’re hungry, smirking, “legs still sore, or not?” you roll your eyes, but let him baby you, his soft kisses and warm hugs making the ache worth it.

[gojosconsort]

“fuck, look at you, ridin’ me like a slut,” sukuna says, voice muffled through the scream mask as he holds his phone, recording. your mask matches his, thighs trembling, pussy clenching his thick cock as you bounce. his free hand grips your hip, guiding your pace, rough, making you moan.

“harder, c’mon,” he taunts, phone angled to catch your ass bouncing, the way his cock disappears into your dripping cunt. you whine, leaning forward, hands on his tattooed chest, grinding down, mask tilting as you ride him faster. “shit, that’s it,” he groans, thumb swiping the screen to zoom, capturing how you stretch around him, slick coating his shaft.

“sukuna, fuck,” you whimper, voice warped, and he laughs, smacking your ass, making you yelp. “keep goin’, pet, give me a show,” he says, his cock throbbing as you slam down, close, so close. “gonna watch this later.”

[gojosconsort]

to add on for the oblivious wife fic w nanami (when she was trying on the bathing suit) u should do one when they’re finally at the beach

𓂃୨ৎ mdni. freaky nanami

“isn’t it gorgeous?” you call out to your husband kento, twirling in the sand, arms wide. the bikini top strains, triangles shifting, a sliver of nipple teasing the edge, and kento’s cock throbs painfully, tenting his swim trunks.

the beach stretches out under a merciless sun, waves crashing lazily, and your husband is already regretting this vacation. he’s sprawled on a towel under an umbrella, sunglasses fogged with sweat, gripping a book so hard the spine creaks.

you, his sweet, oblivious wife, are the problem—prancing around in that neon pink bikini he bought in a haze of desperation at the store, the one that barely contains your curves and has been torturing him since you stepped out of the hotel room.

every jiggle of your ass, every bounce of your tits, is a fresh assault on his sanity, and now you’re out there, glistening with sunscreen, drawing every eye on this damn beach.

kento shifts, book slamming over his crotch, a pathetic shield against the wet spot blooming dark from his leaking tip. fuck, he thinks, jaw locked, teeth grinding. he wants to pin you to the sand, rip that scrap of fabric off, and fuck you raw until you’re sobbing his name, public be damned—but he can’t, and it’s killing him.

you’re oblivious to his problem, laughing as you kick at the waves, ass rippling with each step. the thong bottom rides up, exposing more of that plump, perfect curve, and his eyes track it, feral, imagining sinking his teeth into it, spanking you red, then burying his cock deep until you’re dripping with him.

his balls ache, heavy, and he presses the book harder, the pages crumpling under his grip. every giggle, every sway of your hips, mocks his control, and he’s one deep breath from losing it.

then you come back, holding a dripping ice cream cone, vanilla soft serve already melting in the heat. “got a treat!” you chirp, plopping down cross-legged on the towel, thighs spread just enough to make his vision blur.

you lick the cone, tongue swirling slow, and a thick drop of cream slips free, landing square on your chest, right above the swell of your tits. it slides, slow and obscene, down the curve, pooling in the bikini’s pathetic triangle, and your nipples harden under the cold, poking through the fabric.

“oops!” you giggle, looking down, and the sound—fuck, that sound—sends a jolt straight to his cock. you wiggle, making your tits bounce, the ice cream smearing further, a sticky trail glistening in the sun.

kento chokes, a strangled groan trapped in his throat, and he’s picturing it: licking that cream off, tongue dragging slow over your skin, sucking your nipple into his mouth, biting just hard enough to make you gasp.

his cock leaks again, precum soaking through his trunks, and he presses the book so hard it’s practically embedded in his lap.

“lemme get that,” he rasps, voice raw, reaching for a napkin with a trembling hand. he leans closer—too close—your scent hitting him, coconut sunscreen and sweet vanilla, and his mouth waters, aching to lap up every inch of you. his fingers brush your shoulder as he dabs at the mess, napkin shaking, and you shiver, all innocent, smiling up at him.

“thanks, honey!” you say, taking another lick of the cone, and another drop falls, this time landing right on the swell of your breast, sliding toward the nipple he’s dying to suck. his control snaps like a frayed thread, and he freezes, napkin crumpled in his fist, fighting the urge to throw you down, lick you clean, and fuck you into the sand until the whole beach hears you scream.

“it’s so sticky,” you pout, swiping at it with your finger and popping it in your mouth. your lips close around it, sucking slow, and kento’s vision whites out. he’s imagining those lips around his cock, your throat full of him, gagging as he fucks your face, cum dripping down your chin onto those perfect tits.

his book’s a lost cause, pages warping under his grip, and he shifts, thighs flexing, trying to hide the huge bulge.

“stay still,” he growls, low and tight, grabbing another napkin. he dabs at your chest, every brush of his fingers against your skin a test of his restraint. he’s so close to saying fuck it, to dragging you behind the umbrella and stuffing you full, consequences be damned. your tits jiggle with each swipe, and he bites his cheek, blood sharp on his tongue, to keep from groaning.

“all clean?” you ask, tilting your head, eyes wide and sweet. you take another lick, ice cream smearing your lips, and he wants to shove his cock past them, make you choke on it until you’re crying. his trunks—thank god for the book—are a prison, cock throbbing, balls tight, and he’s leaking so much it’s soaking through to the towel.

“yeah,” he lies, voice cracked, tossing the napkin aside. he leans back, book still clamped over his lap, and exhales hard through his nose. he can’t watch you anymore, not without breaking, so he stares at the horizon, counting waves, willing his cock to calm down. you hum happily, licking away, and every slurp is a dagger to his control.

the beach is too public, too crowded, and he’s too close to ruining you right here. he needs to get you back to the hotel—now—before he cums in his trunks or does something he’ll regret.

“we’re leaving soon,” he mutters, already picturing you bent over the bed, bikini shredded, screaming his name as he fills you again and again, his cum dripping down your pussy, pooling on the sheets, only for him to fuck it back in, deep and relentless, until you’re so full it leaks out with every thrust.

[gojosconsort]

I can come over and sit on the very edge of your bed and be really nervous

[gojosconsort]

can i come over and intentionally make you painfully hard while i act like i have no idea what i'm doing to you

[gojosconsort]

Your Shiu work is the bee's knees ･ﾟ ･ﾟ·:｡･ﾟﾟ･♡

Absolutely adoooore it~!!!

I legit come back to re-read them time to time xoxo

omggg THANK YOU 💜💜

[gojosconsort]

hi amy <3 dropping in to say hello! ive been quietly stalking your masterlist today and the way you write is just beautiful!!! thank you for your service 🫡

heyyy omg 💜💜 i’m SCREAMING ur too kind 😭😭