plotsignificanthaircut555

[plotsignificanthaircut555]

WOW!!!!!!

Welcome to the new friends, and hello to my long time followers!! I can’t believe so many more of you have joined our ranks just overnight!!! I love writing and I love writing fan fiction, and I have been publishing on this account for a year now and being able to chat with mutuals and fellow fans of JJK and Naruto and Chainsaw Man!

Thank you so much for all the support and all the wonderful feedback! I am always so interested in y’all’s thoughts about my work and the fandoms as a whole!! So thank you for every comment and every ask and every interaction!!

I have other stuff that I want to write about in other fandoms but I haven’t yet gotten there, so there is plenty of good stuff to come!

Y’all are the best. Thank you so much!

-Doodle

Bottled Up (Satoru Gojo x Reader)

MDNI SMUT 18+ CONTENT

Gojo can’t cum. Too much on his mind, not enough time to himself, not enough chances to indulge. It’s becoming a matter of personal hygiene. He can't go on like this. He needs help. Your help.

Ao3 Masterlist.

WC: 7.4k Warnings: casual sex, raw sex, penetrative sex, kissing, kissing SLOPPY, oral m!receiving, discussion of anal but not present really, improper use of cursed energy, doggy, begging, crying, desperate whiny Gojo, brief mention on former satosugu,

------ Wow can you guys even believe? I actually wrote something about Gojo!! Tbh writing about/for him intimidates the fuck out of me but i have some longer form ideas about him so this was a good exercise. I hope y’all like it. -Doodle

Satoru can’t cum. He’s broken. His balls dried up. His dick died. His cursed energy overloaded and rendered him impotent. Limitless misfired and clogged him completely. It was the only way to explain why he hadn’t cum in two months.

He used to be able to cum. Fuck, he used to cum too easy. Ten years ago he would jerk off before hooking up so he didn’t cum too fast. He was so fucking sensitive, every touch or graze could send him shivering. Now he would have given anything for his days as a quick draw. That life was over.

Do people have cum caps? Like a finite amount of times they can orgasm and an excess of masturbation and experimentation in his youth had burned through his chances. He wants to believe that if he had known how wasteful he was, he would have acted differently, but it was a lie. He was too instinctual, everything in his nature, his upbringing, had taught him to trust his instincts above all else. They kept him alive, kept him going, kept him satisfied. But now, a vital piece of the puzzle was missing.

It was the sixty-sixth day in a row. He got home around eleven pm, an earlier night than most. His apartment, with its spotless, professionally tended, interior that betrayed the depraved chaos burning inside of him. Dropping his keys and shoes at the door he groaned into the silence at the way his work pants shifted against his throbbing erection trucked down his left leg. This was the part that was growing painful. The sensitivity. It started just around his pelvis, any brush of fabric or misjudged distance between himself and curses, near his hips would send a shaking beat of pleasure up his spine. But it spread, and spread. Even the car seat against his back was starting to turn him on. Last week Principle Yaga touched the back of his neck by mistake and his eyes rolled back. His black blindfold was working finding more work by the day. He started leaving limitless up constantly, well, more constantly. Only dropping completely after he had crossed the threshold of his home. Anything else was too risky.

Today had been rough, he woke up aching between his legs, the coldest shower he could stand helped to bring it down, but not for long. On the way to work he had to cross and re-cross his legs, a difficult feat at his height, over and over until he got to the school. Because of his existence in the good graces of the universe, there were no classes, only a brutally endless string of meetings. Not good, but at least…seated. By the time the final meeting was dismissed he thought he could bite through a cement support beam. On the way out, one of the higher ups patted him on the back, limitless blocking it from making contact, but he found a tantalizing urge to let it pass through, just for the contact.

He was fucking ruined.

Passing through the mainroom, up the staircase to the bedroom, he pulled his blindfold from his eyes, blinking a few times, snowy eyelashes relaxing from their position pressed against his eyelids. Finally in his bedroom, he pulled his shirt over his head, dropping it to the floor, already breathing hot and deep. He passed his bed into the ensuite bathroom, clicking the light and taking in his own reflection.

Fuck, he looked rough.

Skin sallow. Muscles strained and tense. Still handsome, of course, but drained. Like he had been wrung out.

And alone.

Satoru clicked the light off. He couldn’t go there.

He walked himself over to the bed, lithe hands finding his belt and unfastening it, slipping his pants down his legs. A relieved sigh left his mouth as the tight garment was removed. He sat on the edge of his bed, palming his desperate erection. He was shivering, the stimuli so overwhelming already. He wasn’t hopeful, but he was too desperate to stop. Keening back onto the bed, he let his eyes close. He didn’t want to see, the only sensation he wanted was to feel himself, touching himself, bringing him to the peak that felt so insurmountable. He was diamond hard now, finally he pulled himself free of the confines of his briefs. Taking his length into his hand, circling his palm over his barren tip.

He couldn’t even precum anymore.

He groaned in frustration, scooting back further on the cushy mattress, his briefs joining his discarded pants on the floor. He spit onto his hand, coating his dick from base to head, easing his strokes. He let his head fall back against the pillows, dredging up memories of past lovers to try and aid his efforts. He wasn’t really a porn guy, not above it, certainly. But it was overstimulating, bright lights, too colorful, just overwhelming to his already heightened senses. He preferred to rely on his own mind, he was in total control there. Or at least he used to be. His mind was too full of other bullshit to wander into the salacious. Work, always work. Lesson plans, missions, reports, meetings.

Fuck.

He reset, turning over onto his knees, moving one of his silken pillows under him, opting to rut against the soft cushion. One hand underneath pressing it against his length. His head hanging heavy under his shoulders, sweat dripping down the slope of his nose. The cold silk pillowcase against his cock, making his sweating body erupt into goosebumps. He slid his hips, gasping out shuddering breaths. It felt so good, so cold and soft against his begging erection. The muscles in his back rippled, swelling and beckoning under his frosty, even skin. The light of his bedroom cast gorgeous shadows on his back and hips, bringing out his excellent physique. The shadow of his spine, the lat muscles under large, perfectly worked arms, almost appearing as angel wings in the low, soft glow.

He brought his thoughts to long shapely legs, thighs shaking under his touch. Lips, wet and swollen, against his own. This was working, his breath was starting to catch in time with his hips against the pillow. He let his mind continue to wander and increased his speed. Glute muscles flexing hard as images of bodies he once held, some with features he knew well, some less familiar but still worth remembering. Some too familiar, silky, long black hair falling into his mouth. Dark violet eyes, full, strong arms.

No. Not that. He couldn’t go there either. There was nothing left for him anymore.

It killed his momentum. Still aching below but too stormy on top. Stilling his hips, slouching over the mattress. He took a few deep breaths, trying to take in the room around him in pieces, grounding himself in the present. In reality.

He wiped his wet hand over his face then on the sheets below him, gripping hard. This was getting ridiculous. He felt pathetic. Tears burned behind his blessed eyes. He felt broken. He felt shame bubbling behind his navel. He couldn’t live like this. He needed to cum. He needed to release all of this build up and get himself right.

Satoru pulled his phone from the discarded pants and tapped it a few times. Until he found just what he was looking for.

Your phone screen illuminated your dark bedroom. Your humidifier was on, your lights had been long turned out. You had just fallen asleep after some restless tossing and turning. The screen lit up again, this time chiming out a text notification. That jarred you from the warm grip of dream and made your head spring up. You glanced at the screen, trying to read the too bright notification with sleep still coating your eyes. But before you could, it changed to the dimmer incoming call screen. It vibrated on the nightstand, suddenly too loud to ignore. You sighed, and retrieved it.

It was Gojo. He was calling you. You hadn’t seen him in months. fuck was that right? You thought back. You hadn’t seen him in…six months. The last time you left his gorgeous, perfectly styled, agonizingly well put together apartment, it hadn’t been on bad terms, by any metric, but it wasn’t like you were falling into each other's arms either. There hadn’t been any blow out or agreement not to see each other anymore, it just fizzled out. You were sure you had been disappointed when the calls and texts slowed to a trickle, but it wasn’t like you were dating or anything. You had hooked up a few times earlier in the year. No more than four times total. Okay, six times. Okay, nine times. Okay, you lost track somewhere in the second month. What really qualifies as hooking up these days, anyway? Just penetration or sexting? Oral? Hand stuff? Hand stuff in public? Other stuff in public? What should even qualify if you were keeping track -- which you weren’t! You answered the call.

“Do you know what time it is?” You sighed out, smiling through your feigned annoyance.

He purred on the other side of the line, “hmmmm, what are you wearing?”

“Pajamas, because it's almost one in the morning.” your voice was hoarse, sleep having laid your vocal cords to rest.

“Sounds hot.” You could hear his stupidly sexy smile, “You should come over. Can’t waste an outfit like that at home.”

You laugh, already planning how quickly you could pull yourself together, and whether or not the trains were still running, “You’re kidding me. I haven't heard from you in months. You call at an ungodly hour and expect me to come running over at the drop of a hat?”

“You don’t have to run, I’ll send a car.” He coos.

You laugh again, stretching in your bed, letting out a soft groan.

“mmmm, do that again.” His voice grew heavier, there was some suspicious sounding rustling on his end.

You stayed quiet, wanting to see if you would hear anything else and wanting to deny him.

“Now don’t be like that, baby.” He whines, he sounds pathetic “I need your help. It’s an emergency.”

You got out of your bed, still taking your sweet time, savoring his helplessness, “An emergency, huh? Nothing fatal I hope.”

His tongue clicks on the other side, “hmmm, it’s hard to say. Could be a fever, I’m feeling…hot.”

You hate that a line so corny is making you bite your lips to keep quiet. You slipped into a cuter, but still comfy lounge set, a bit more versatile than your pajamas “Sounds contagious, maybe it would be best if I stayed home…”

“Please!” His voice changed, cracking and almost panicked, “I need you, please.”

There was no version of this conversation that ended any other way, “Send the car.”

“Already outside.” You heard his face split into that gorgeous smile you couldn't resist, not even over the phone.

When you arrived at his front door, you didn't even have a chance to knock before he swung the door open. And fuck he looked good. Bad, but good? Not bad, just…disheveled. He hadn’t bothered to put a shirt on, inhumanly muscled torso glowy and flushed, his hair matted and unkempt, a pair of sweatpants hanging low on his hips. The long, angled white scar healed from an injury long past going from his shoulder to his opposite hip. You traced the line with your eyes, recalling the first time you had seen it, how he had moved your fingers over it, getting you used to the feeling of it under your touch, assuring you that it was long healed and nothing to fuss over. Every inch of him was perfect, despite his pain, his history. You couldn’t resist the way he made you feel like you were the only person in the world. Your ogling did not go unnoticed, looking up to his face you saw the smile you had heard so much of recently.

“Miss me?” He opened the door wider, allowing you to enter, ducking under his arm.

“Yeah.” You admitted rolling your eyes and stepping inside, leaving your shoes at the door.

You took in the sleek, cavernous town house around you. His decor hadn’t changed at all, a lovely front room, a staircase along one windowed wall, leading up to his bedroom. If you were to press further into the main floor, peeling back shoji screens you would find more bedrooms, frozen in time just as they were last left by their former inhabitants, his office, barely ever touched, a gorgeous bathroom complete with a personal sauna. For someone who spent nearly no time at home, he really did have the house dreams are made of.

“I can get you something to drink if you want.” He offers, shutting and locking the door.

“That’s okay. You sounded pretty desperate on the phone, I’d hate to keep you waiting.

He wasn’t totally ready for this part. Having to explain what was going on with him. He shifted a bit, he wanted you so bad. He needed it. He needed every part of you right now, but he couldn’t bring himself to say it.

“Come on Gojo, you got me out here. Don’t get shy on me now. What’s the big emergency?” You set your bag down on his expansive kitchen island, not subtly eyeing the absolutely incomprehensible bulge tenting the front of his sweats.

“It’s been so long, why the rush, Sugar?” He plays coy, approaching you with a suave gait, moving past you to the refrigerator, “Sparkling water? Still? I can go down to the cellar if you want something stronger?”

“Gojo…” You raise your eyebrows.

“I have tea or coffee if you prefer. Some sodas, you like diet right?”

“Gojo come on---”

“You know i'm not great in the kitchen but if you’re hungry I could---”

“Satoru!” You cut him off, finally pulling his attention from the icebox, “What’s up with you?”

His white eyebrows knit together in the center, making his eyes droop pitfully, “I can’t cum.”

You can barely hear his confession, and you must have heard him wrong so in earnest you ask, “What?”

“I can’t cum. For weeks, nothing. I try and I try and just…nothing.” He blurts, simultaneously relieved and mortified.

You know you shouldn't stare, that you should say something, but you’re dumbfounded. There was once a time, not too long ago even, where he had you bent over this exact counter pushing through his own leaking orgasm to bring you to tears. And that had been the third round that night. You always thought he was the untouchable man, a paragon of self control and pushed limits. To think of him unable to even pleasuring himself, it felt impossible.

“You can’t cum?” You say dumbly.

“Well now that you have repeated it, I think I must be cured, you can go now.” He rolled his eyes, leaning his shoulder against the fridge, fighting the hiss that bubbles in his throat from its chilling surface against his heated skin.

“I’m sorry!” You put your hands up like you had been caught, “It's just a little hard to believe! I never expected you to….struggle…in this…area.”

Gojo’s eyebrows flew up, every word you said made it worse. You could feel it but you couldn’t stop yourself. You were apparently determined to put every foot possible in your big stupid mouth.

“I just mean because you’re usually so good! How could this happen, are you sick? I don’t know why I would even ask that! Obviously you’re not sick, you're just….having some…dysfunction.”

“Why would you say dysfunction?” He stared at you, ego bruised but still amused at how poorly you were handling this.

“I didn’t mean like that! I Just---”

“Any other word. Any word in the world you could have said, and you go with dysfunction.” He chuckles, his own embarrassment now vacated completely in wake of how flagrantly you had just shit the bed.

“That was super dumb, and I’m really sorry. I have no idea what to say.” You just gave up on the second half of the sentence, knowing nothing you were saying was going to help.

“I don't have erectile dysfunction, the erection is not the problem,” He doesn’t have to gesture below his waist, the subject of conversation stands perfectly at attention, pushing against the flimsy fabric, “It won't go away, I’m stuck like this, and I can’t think about anything else, and I can’t get anything done. I need your help, you have to help me get rid of it.”

Your chest warmed a bit, a sly canary eating smile crossed your face, “So you called me, huh?”

“Yes I called you.” He sighs.

“Out of everyone you could have booty called to help your infinite boner, you call little old me? Gojo, I'm touched!” You sound like you're accepting a Nobel prize.

He rolls his eyes, “I knew you were going to be annoying about this.”

You took a seat at one of the bar stools at the counter, resting your head flirtatiously on your perched hands, “So like when you were choosing who to call, what made you pick me…am I just that good?”

You were, fuck you really were. He had thought about you so many times, Your perfect body, your pretty eyes, your soft hair, your legs around his hips, your fucking mouth. It had been too long over all, but it had been far too long since he had been with you. He called you because he knew you were great, and because he trusted you. He could be honest with you without judgement, your current reaction notwithstanding. He knew that he could count on you to be discreet and up front. There weren’t any guessing games when you were together, he didn’t have to guess or grasp for clues at how you were feeling. He knew you.

“That’s right.” He nodded, willing to let you have this.

You let out a teasing school yard oooooooooooooh. Batting your eyelashes and grinning widely, feeling like the absolute queen of the universe.

But he was growing impatient, “You gonna help me out, or what?”

“Sounds like I have quite the reputation to protect, how long has it been exactly?” You eyed him up and down.

“Still about twenty centimeters. Give or take.” He answers, “Oh! You mean--two months.”

“Months? Two MONTHS?” You gawked and then caught yourself, “I’m sorry I know that doesn’t help…I just can’t believe you’re upright. How are you not hospitalized?”

“If this conversation takes much longer I may have to be.” He crosses the room to you, leaning over where you are seated on the counter, putting his arm around you to grip the back of your chair.

You lean back, taking in a breath as he leans closer. Fuck, he’s so handsome. Perfect pearly skin, hair soft and fluffy, those fucking eyes holding you still under their gaze.

“Come on, Sugar, help a guy out. We’re friends right? Friends help each other.” His breath is sweet against your face.

You feel hypnotized, looking between his eyes and lips in a dizzying circle. His cocky demeanor you were so used to was crackling, you could see beads of sweat that had formed on his brow, his tongue wet and heavy kept his lips parted, drawing you closer. He smelled like him, warm and clean, the whole place smelled like him. You were completely in his arena, but you still had all the power. The Strongest asking you for help, begging even, you felt high. You tilted your head up, close to his face, catching his eyes,

“What are friends for?” You closed the distance between you, locking your lips together.

He is quick to pull you closer, making your breasts press hard against his chest, drawing a moan from both of you. His tongue slips past your lips, and maps the interior of your mouth quickly. Reacquainting himself with your taste. Even just a kiss, a real kiss, made his body shudder. His left hand holds your face, his long fingers splayed over your cheek, from your neck up to you temple, his right hand held the back of your neck, keeping you firm in place against him. You are far handsier than him in this moment. You can’t stop yourself, you missed his body, his kiss, him. Feeling his toned stomach, around his hips to his back, digging your nails in just enough to see if he gasps. He does not. Far too focused on the sloppy, dripping kiss he waited so patiently for. He’s leaning over you, pushing you further and further back, making you dangerously close to falling off the stool below you. But of course, his hand grabs your back, holding you still, right where we wanted you. Just past the point where you would have to engage your abs, but not far enough for you to want to hold yourself up. Muscles right on the precious of passive ability and focused contraction, forcing to to rely on his hold, trusting him completely, and he could feel you would relax into his palm, melting into his touch.

“Fuck, Gojo. You really are desperate.” You giggled as his kissed moved down to your jaw and neck.

He moaned against your skin as your nails clawed at his lower back, nodding his head passively, running his tongue over your pulse point.

“You’re so pretty.” He hooks your leg over his hip, pressing the problem child erection right against yours clothed cunt, drawing a shaky gasp from you.

“Not here.” He pulls himself away. “Upstairs…do this right…let’s”

He’s not finishing any of his sentences, you almost worry if whatever problem that resides in his cock could be spreading to his brain. But maybe it was contagious because you can’t bring yourself to care. Holding your hand a bit too tight, he pulls you forward and up the staircase to his bedroom. He doesn’t bother shutting the door, no one else has lived here in a long time. The house is quiet, bar from the panting breaths that drip from both of you, the rustle of clothes, and the reconnection of hot, desperate skin. You kiss him again, pushing him back toward the bed. He allows you to push him onto the mattress, disconnecting your lips.

“So?” You flirt, standing naked before him, letting him see all of you, “how do you wanna fix this?”

He has shed his sweatpants in the shuffle, propped up on his elbow, the other hand giving himself long, slow strokes.

“I’ve been dreaming about that mouth, baby.” He chews on the interior of his bottom lip, “show me if you’re as good as I remember.”

He spreads his legs, allowing you a good long look at how hard he really has become. Angry, pink tip swollen, veins along the shaft straining against the skin. The lower ab muscles are so strained you think they might pop. You had almost forgotten how fucking big he is. Everything about him was too big. His broad, strong body, his long spindly legs, built, strong arms hanging below his hips, those big hands with their knuckly fingers, his long, thick cock and the ego that accompanied. Seeing all of him, how big he was, made a shock run up and down your spine.

How the fuck had you fit this thing inside of you before?

“Oh, don’t be shy now,” he echos your earlier words, “you can take it.”

Not to be out foxed, you steel yourself and sink to your knees in between his spread legs. He stops stroking himself, leaning against both elbows now, waiting with held breath for you to begin.

Your put your hands on his knees, massaging them down and up, feeling the taut muscles of his thighs, the soft hairs under your hands.

“You think about me a lot?” You kissed the side of his left knee.

“Mhm.” His head hung backs exposing his delicious, wiry throat.

His adam’s apple bobbed as he gasped, you ran your nails down his legs, making his hips jerk upward.

“Don’t tease baby, it’s bad enough already!” He begged.

Fuck he sounded good like that. No one could swing the pendulum of pathetic and cocky quite like Satoru Gojo.

“Two months huh?” You carried on, giving open mouthed kisses up his thigh between thoughts, “you must be sooooo sensitive. Poor baby.”

He nods, his eyes squeezed right, trying to focus on every sensation you’re giving him.

Finally you reach the divot between his hip and the base of his pelvis, the internal hinge of his thigh. You ran your tongue along the muscle, tasting the salt of his body. His hips jerk again.

“Please!” He cries out, the lamp at his bedside flicker off and on again.

“Careful Satoru.” You warned, “all you had to do was ask.”

You swirl your tongue around the swollen, aching tip of his dick. Looping around the underside of the head and sliding your mouth down further.

Satoru was in heaven, his eyes rolled back in his head, he fought to keep his hips still, he didn’t want to hurt you, but fuck he wanted more.

You slide your tongue along each beautiful vein, making a perfect map in your head of the topography of his penis. Pulling off and sinking back down again you could take him all the way to the base, coarse white hair ticking your nose as your relaxed your throat to accommodate him he fell back against the bed, one hand moving your hair off your forehead so he could see your pretty face. He didn’t know what he wanted to do more, relax into the pleasure and let it wash over him, or watch you take him further. He leaned up to watch, just as your peeked on eye open to see him falling apart. But the eye contact was too much for him to bear, he felt his cheeks erupt in a blush, and he fell backward again, using one arm to shield his eyes.

You tutted, running his cock along your lips as your spoke, giving it sloppy kisses to make the syllabals, “oh Satoru, look at me, baby. Doesn’t it feel good?”

He nods but doesn’t look up. He can’t bear it. Your weepy eyes filling with tears from the lack of breath, your lips swollen, encasing his cock head. Your hair pulled to one side, giving him a perfect view of your hollowed cheeks as you suck and pull at him. With your spit coating his cock, the sensitivity has doubled. Wet, schlucking sounds fill his bedroom, alongside your haughty moans. Or wait…that’s actually him moaning like that. He doesn’t even recognize himself, he’s panting, sweating, begging. He didn’t even realize he was talking but the praises have been spilling from him continuously:

Yes

Baby yes just like that

Fuck you’re so good

You’re so pretty

Fuck you’re doing so good

Feels so good

Baby

Fuck

Sugar

So pretty

So good

I can’t I

Please baby make me

Fuck you’re

Agh

Oh

Fu

Oh

Ah

O

I

All he can manage by the time he looks back at you are open vowel sounds. It’s feels fucking incredible, perfect, if this were three months ago he would have cum in an instant. This was the closest he had felt, but it still wasn’t enough. He had to be inside you. The hand keeping your hair back rounded your face, his thumb pushing against your lips.

“I need to fuck you.” He says breathlessly, “I won’t cum until I fuck you, please.”

You pull off of him, a little disappointed that you wouldn’t get to brag about your head game, but you push it aside and join him on the bed. Clingy as he is, he pulls you close, kissing you hard again. Your mouth is wet with saliva and pre cum. He didn’t have the time to be impressed at your skill bringing forth the pearly substance, he coveted so greatly. He was too focused on being as close as two people can be. You move to straddle his lap, but he shakes his head, breaking from your lips.

“Bend over.” His mouth is wet now, both of you wet from lips to chin.

You grin and climb off him, stacking a few pillows to give you something to rest on and presenting your hips to him. Satoru is getting his bearings back, he feels more in control now that he has moved onto his knees behind you. Desperate as he is he can’t resist brushing two feather light fingers down your spine, watching you arch as he drags them further and further down. Your spine snakes, your hips sway, his fingers find the cleft where your spine meets your ass, a perfectly little dimple, waiting for his hands to paw at, your breathy moan eggs him on, sliding further down, feeling your tight asshole clench from just the lightest of contact.

“You remember when you let me back here?” He circles it, reminiscing, “you were so tight. fuck, you felt so good baby.”

“Remember when you let me back there.” You tried to sound tough but your position bent over with your head buried in your hands made it difficult.

“Mmmmhm.” He felt his dick twitch again, remembering when you had fingered him open, sucking him in tandum, he swore he saw an angel that night.

And here you were again, having rushed over in the middle of the night just to help him, trembling under his fingertips. Maybe you really were an angel. His very own guardian angel. If anyone could bed a steward of the divine it would be him.

“I thought you needed my help.” You whined.

He giggles, leaning over you, close enough that his lips touch your ear, his heavy cock pressing against your slit,“Just making sure you’re as needy as I am.”

He runs his tongue over the shell of your ear, making you squeal. Of course he remembered all your sensitive spots. He returned to his knees behind you, spreading you open, marveling at the mess you had made. Dripping honey onto the bed, onto your thighs, on his hand. His mouth floods, the desire to bury his head between your legs quickly matching his desire to cum.

“Later.” You whimpered, having read his mind, “you need my help.”

He beams, “so selfless.”

Finally, after an hour of build up since your arrival, the agonizing time waiting for you to get here, and the two months of celibacy that had brought him here, he aligned himself at your drooling hole, your spit was still shining along his cock but he ran either side though your folds anyway, making sure he was wet enough. He had fucked enough and had a big dick for long enough that he knew taking it all required some specific anatomy or a lot of prep, usually both. And while you were familiar with him, and giving yourself so willingly to him, he didn’t actually want to hurt you.

“Satoru please just—-“

The rest of your sentence would never see the air of his bedroom. It’s conclusion stolen from you and replaced with a pathetic scream as he pushed inside. He had meant to ease in but as soon as he started he couldn’t stop himself, he bottomed out in his first thrust. A loud smack of your ass hitting his hips still resounded in the room as he pulled back and thrusted in again. Your back arched evilly, dangerously close to snapping your spine in half. Despite his tunnel vision, Satoru eased his hand up your back, effortlessly smoothing it and gripping your shoulder for more leverage.

“Yes! Oh fuck yes.” He grunted, thrusting in an evil pace.

You couldn’t even speak, he was so deep, you were willing to bet his made an impression agains the front of your stomach. On your pillow pedastule you sank further, and reached up one formerly supportive hand to grip his on your shoulder.

“Sa…sa…” you panted out, not even able to string his name together.

He moved to long, languid, but devastatingly deep thrusts, the hand on your shoulder holding the side of your neck now, “that’s it, sugar. Say my name. Say my name, baby, come on.”

You tried, you really fucking tried but the letters wouldn’t come, “S—Sa—-sss.”

Your eyes rolled back, crumbling completely into the silken pillowcases, not caring if your spit or tears ruined the fabric. He spanked you once hard, making your head shoot up.

“I said say it.” He grunted.

Cocky for a man who was nearly in tears over the phone because he couldn’t bust.

“Satoru!” You finally spilled, his cock pushing hard against your g spot, “Satoru! Satoru please! Be gentle!”

Now that your voice had found you again it was hard not to beg him for mercy.

“Please baby, please! Fuck that’s so good.” You babbled, bringing a sick smile to his face.

He fucked harder, deeper into you, reveling the way your walls fluttered around him. You were so tight he had initially worried he was going to split you in two. But you are his angel, he should have known better than to deny your divinity. Satoru could hear your moans increasing in pitch and becoming choppy. He reached around your hip, finding the perfect pearl between your lower lips and circling his middle finger around. The clench that followed sent you both keening. His fingers brought forth an orgasm you didn’t think was nearly as close. Your hips shaking, biting into the pillow to keep from screaming.

“No baby, let me hear you.‘I need it.” He panted, not stopping his fingers on your clit or his evil thrusts, seeming deeper and deeper every second.

You tried to lift your head but felt dizzy, your vision wasn’t right, your clit throbbed beautifully but made you aware of how fast your heart was. Gojo pulled out turning you on your back, reinserting himself with a kiss to your cheeks.

“Don’t pass out on me, okay? I need you baby, I need your help. Help me, please.” He thrusted slower, only moving a few inches at a time as your came down from the mind fuzzing orgasm.

You nodded, coming back to yourself, you pulled your legs over his hips, your hands moving down the curves of his body. He slower thrust gave you time to admire him. He really was so beautiful. Looking at the sun and having to look away beautiful. His skin was reddening from effort and arousal, splotchy flushes that still couldn’t take away his perfection. The divots on his shoulders, the smell of his sweat, the taste of his spit. Fucking him felt like being completely encompassed in perfection incarnate. And you couldn’t feel luckier to have the chance to be so. He opened his pleasure screwed up eyes, those glowing blue irises, that contained so much of what everyone thought he was, looking down at you with so much trust, so much vulnerability, your heart lurched into your throat.

“You okay?” Satoru scanned your face.

You nodded, pulling him in to kiss you again, feeling his soft hair under your fingers. You held on as he increased his thrusts again. Speed, depth, power, all of it ramped back up to fainting orgasm levels.

Satoru was on the verge of tears, he couldn’t do without again. He couldn’t not cum one more time. He wouldn’t make it. He would bury himself into any hole you offered him again and again and again until he was free from this. Reaching back and pulling your leg over his shoulder, he allowed himself even deeper into you. He watched your face scrunch up in pleasure, your mouth drop open to catch hot, stolen breath from him. He wanted to make it easier, slotting his lips against yours and kissing you deep, tasting your pleasure. He swooned, his heart felt so tight and full it could burst, he was so grateful for you. For your body, your generosity, your care for him that you made look so simple. He knew he wasn’t an easy person to care about, but it seemed to him like you had never considered it cumbersome. Kissing you he felt the tears long built up by restriction begin to fall, wetting his own cheeks as well as yours.

“Satoru are y—-?” You worried against his lips, your hand in his hair moving from. A harsh grip to a soothing pet.

He shook his head, although you were right, “it’s okay. Thank you. Just thank you.”

He kissed you again and carried on thrusting, long and deep. He found your other hand and took it in his own, interlocking your fingers. Hips hard and fast, the friction not enough, he needed to touch every inch of you with every inch of himself. Your pressed against his chest as you moved to match his thrusts, putting aside the emotions that had arisen and remembering your purpose for being here. He had to break away from the kiss, pushing his forhead against yours, gasping out as you synced your thrusts together.

Oh.

Like a dim lantern in a barren desert, a non phosphorescent illusory light in a cave, the shine of climax came into his view. Still holding your hand, one of your legs over his shoulder, bending your body into a bizzare position, he chased it with everything he could. Drilling himself into your drooly, puffy pussy, again and again, causing you to cry out.

“Baby almost, cum with me, please! Pleasepleaseplease.” He squeezed your hand a bit too hard, your fingers felt cramped.

Well, they would, if you could feel them. And your leg would likely feel strained, if you could feel your hamstring still. But you couldn’t feel anything except the white hot pleasure bursting inside of you everytime he pushed against your gspot. Not breaking away from his hand, your other shot between your legs circling your clit, making you tighten up around him. Satoru cried out, the devilish squeeze of your walls felt like the last barrier between him and total bliss.

“Please baby, please.” He can’t control his voice, he doesn’t care, nothing matters when he is this close, “yes, cum around me. I need it. Cum.”

Your eyes flutter back, your head pushes against the pillow, your body erupts into cooling, overwhelming bliss.

Finally, his torment turns, the ache in his stomach unraveling. He can’t believe it, it’s finally about to be over, he feels your body shake underneath him, your hand gripping his so tightly, your cries filling his bedroom. Just at the precipice Gojo, steals one last look at your pleasure struck face, and he falls.

The lights in his bedroom bloom, swell, and overload. Bulbs bursting as he pumps himself through the most earth shattering orgasm he has ever known. Line after line of thick, long stored cum spilling from him into your waiting cunt. The room is plunged into darkness, he buries his head in your neck, panting hard.

You smile as you feel him filing you, and continue filling you. He had always cum a lot, he joked that it was his lineage begging him for continuation. But this was, beyond. Load after load of hot, desperate cum. He pushed his hips closer to you, his body yearning to become fused to yours. To never separate again.

You move one careful hand up his back, feeling the cooling sweat at his neck, the soft hair at the nape. His breath slows against your skin, but he doesn’t yet push himself off of you, keeping his heavy frame collapsed on you. But you don’t dare complain, committing the heat of his body to memory. The moonlight from the window is now, thanks to his discharge of power, the only light in the room. Your eyes adjust slowly, his features glowing in soft blue-white light. The air in the room is thick and full of both of you. Had you an eternity to indulge yourself in this moment, it would still feel too intangible to recall. But you try anyway.

Once his eyes have stopped spinning in their sockets like some knock out cartoon, Satoru pushes himself off of you, staying inside, just hovering above your body. His misty blue eyes look over every inch of you in a second. Taking in everything about this moment, how your skin reflects the moonlight, your eyes heavy and half lidded with sleep and bliss, your soft smile waiting for him to say something. But he wasn’t ready yet, he pressed his lips to yours again, firm but not desperate. He’s kissed you lavishly and with no burning sense of time. It could be called lazy if it weren’t for the focused decadence behind his mouth. He finally separates, thin silks of spit still unbroken between you two.

You brought your unheld hand to his face, cupping his cheek, watching as his eyes flutter shut. You could see tears drying on his cheeks, overwhelm and gratitude thier origin. The moon brought them forward for your viewing, you swiped a thumb under one eye. They both open under your touch, filling with something unreadable. He let go of your hand, opting to mirror your hold on your face, using one long finger to brush away a hair gelled to your sticky forehead.

“Thank you.” He reiterates, the frantic gratitudes from before nullified into a sincerity that made you nervous despite the juxtoposition of his cock still inside of you.

“Anytime, Satoru.” You can feel your cheeks heat, but your bliss doesn’t waver.

He slid out of you slowly, careful not to jostle his tingling, overstimulated length.

You both are left panting once he has been removed completely. He moved onto his side next to you, on his back, breathing up into the dark ceiling. You realize that you had no way of knowing what time it was. The thoughts of work and responsibility tomorrow we’re beginning to gnaw at the edges of your mind. You should get home soon, leave him to his new sexual freedom. You’d imagine he would be ready to pass out if he wasn’t asleep already. The expulsion of cursed energy enough to knock out the lights, enough to send him comatose.

You should know better than to underestimate him. Gojo sits up, stretching his long arms in front of him, allowing the formerly clenched back muscles to reset. Leaning back against his hands he looks down to you.

“I gotta change the bulbs and reset the fuse box. You wanna stay here? Once I’m done we can go again.” That flirty smile quickly irresistible, “orrrr, if you help me I’ll be done ever faster and I can thank you properly.”

You rolled your eyes, giggling, “I’m still recovering from the last favor I did for you. Come get me when you’re done.”

You settle back into his bed, the luxe duvet the perfect cloud-like weight on your shoulders. The smell of him clinging to every stitch of his sheets.

He moved off the bed, slipping on his underwear and making quick work of changing the burst light bulbs. This wasn’t the first time a miscalculated charge had knocked out the electrical system of his house. He had a private grid, it wasn’t that elegant but between the solar panels on the outside and a small self sustaining aquaphir underneath, it was nearly entirely self sufficient. So it was simple enough to fix when it did happen. When he switched the fuse box, the electric hum returned. Back in his bedroom he found you sleeping, curled up in his bedding, snoring softly. He moves some hair off your shoulder, fingers gentle on your thin, soft skin. Bare except for the duvet pulled over your shoulders. He crouched next to you silently, pressing a tender kiss to your cheek. He was lucky to have you, someone who would help him so readily, so selflessly. Someone he could trust and confide in. It had been a long time since he could trust someone like this. Still standing over you, he watched as your stirred, sleepy eyes opening to take him in, squinting against the refreshed lighting.

“Coming back to bed?” Your sleep riddled voice charmed.

“Oh I’m not done with you yet.” He moved into bed beside you, taking your body in his arms once again, his lips fighting home under your jaw.

He really was insatiable.

YAY!!! I hope y'all enjoyed this one. It was fun to write and fell together really easily. I am a lot less intimidated by writing gojo now. But I would love to hear yall's feedback on how it came off!! PLEASE! again, i have a much longer, more structured idea for him that I am wanting to build up to eventually so i would really love to know what yall think. Doodle <3 <3

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over the panties stuff is so embarrassingly hot i hate it

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Bottled Up (Satoru Gojo x Reader)

MDNI SMUT 18+ CONTENT

Gojo can’t cum. Too much on his mind, not enough time to himself, not enough chances to indulge. It’s becoming a matter of personal hygiene. He can't go on like this. He needs help. Your help.

Ao3 Masterlist.

WC: 7.4k Warnings: casual sex, raw sex, penetrative sex, kissing, kissing SLOPPY, oral m!receiving, discussion of anal but not present really, improper use of cursed energy, doggy, begging, crying, desperate whiny Gojo, brief mention on former satosugu,

------ Wow can you guys even believe? I actually wrote something about Gojo!! Tbh writing about/for him intimidates the fuck out of me but i have some longer form ideas about him so this was a good exercise. I hope y’all like it. -Doodle

Satoru can’t cum. He’s broken. His balls dried up. His dick died. His cursed energy overloaded and rendered him impotent. Limitless misfired and clogged him completely. It was the only way to explain why he hadn’t cum in two months.

He used to be able to cum. Fuck, he used to cum too easy. Ten years ago he would jerk off before hooking up so he didn’t cum too fast. He was so fucking sensitive, every touch or graze could send him shivering. Now he would have given anything for his days as a quick draw. That life was over.

Do people have cum caps? Like a finite amount of times they can orgasm and an excess of masturbation and experimentation in his youth had burned through his chances. He wants to believe that if he had known how wasteful he was, he would have acted differently, but it was a lie. He was too instinctual, everything in his nature, his upbringing, had taught him to trust his instincts above all else. They kept him alive, kept him going, kept him satisfied. But now, a vital piece of the puzzle was missing.

It was the sixty-sixth day in a row. He got home around eleven pm, an earlier night than most. His apartment, with its spotless, professionally tended, interior that betrayed the depraved chaos burning inside of him. Dropping his keys and shoes at the door he groaned into the silence at the way his work pants shifted against his throbbing erection trucked down his left leg. This was the part that was growing painful. The sensitivity. It started just around his pelvis, any brush of fabric or misjudged distance between himself and curses, near his hips would send a shaking beat of pleasure up his spine. But it spread, and spread. Even the car seat against his back was starting to turn him on. Last week Principle Yaga touched the back of his neck by mistake and his eyes rolled back. His black blindfold was working finding more work by the day. He started leaving limitless up constantly, well, more constantly. Only dropping completely after he had crossed the threshold of his home. Anything else was too risky.

Today had been rough, he woke up aching between his legs, the coldest shower he could stand helped to bring it down, but not for long. On the way to work he had to cross and re-cross his legs, a difficult feat at his height, over and over until he got to the school. Because of his existence in the good graces of the universe, there were no classes, only a brutally endless string of meetings. Not good, but at least…seated. By the time the final meeting was dismissed he thought he could bite through a cement support beam. On the way out, one of the higher ups patted him on the back, limitless blocking it from making contact, but he found a tantalizing urge to let it pass through, just for the contact.

He was fucking ruined.

Passing through the mainroom, up the staircase to the bedroom, he pulled his blindfold from his eyes, blinking a few times, snowy eyelashes relaxing from their position pressed against his eyelids. Finally in his bedroom, he pulled his shirt over his head, dropping it to the floor, already breathing hot and deep. He passed his bed into the ensuite bathroom, clicking the light and taking in his own reflection.

Fuck, he looked rough.

Skin sallow. Muscles strained and tense. Still handsome, of course, but drained. Like he had been wrung out.

And alone.

Satoru clicked the light off. He couldn’t go there.

He walked himself over to the bed, lithe hands finding his belt and unfastening it, slipping his pants down his legs. A relieved sigh left his mouth as the tight garment was removed. He sat on the edge of his bed, palming his desperate erection. He was shivering, the stimuli so overwhelming already. He wasn’t hopeful, but he was too desperate to stop. Keening back onto the bed, he let his eyes close. He didn’t want to see, the only sensation he wanted was to feel himself, touching himself, bringing him to the peak that felt so insurmountable. He was diamond hard now, finally he pulled himself free of the confines of his briefs. Taking his length into his hand, circling his palm over his barren tip.

He couldn’t even precum anymore.

He groaned in frustration, scooting back further on the cushy mattress, his briefs joining his discarded pants on the floor. He spit onto his hand, coating his dick from base to head, easing his strokes. He let his head fall back against the pillows, dredging up memories of past lovers to try and aid his efforts. He wasn’t really a porn guy, not above it, certainly. But it was overstimulating, bright lights, too colorful, just overwhelming to his already heightened senses. He preferred to rely on his own mind, he was in total control there. Or at least he used to be. His mind was too full of other bullshit to wander into the salacious. Work, always work. Lesson plans, missions, reports, meetings.

Fuck.

He reset, turning over onto his knees, moving one of his silken pillows under him, opting to rut against the soft cushion. One hand underneath pressing it against his length. His head hanging heavy under his shoulders, sweat dripping down the slope of his nose. The cold silk pillowcase against his cock, making his sweating body erupt into goosebumps. He slid his hips, gasping out shuddering breaths. It felt so good, so cold and soft against his begging erection. The muscles in his back rippled, swelling and beckoning under his frosty, even skin. The light of his bedroom cast gorgeous shadows on his back and hips, bringing out his excellent physique. The shadow of his spine, the lat muscles under large, perfectly worked arms, almost appearing as angel wings in the low, soft glow.

He brought his thoughts to long shapely legs, thighs shaking under his touch. Lips, wet and swollen, against his own. This was working, his breath was starting to catch in time with his hips against the pillow. He let his mind continue to wander and increased his speed. Glute muscles flexing hard as images of bodies he once held, some with features he knew well, some less familiar but still worth remembering. Some too familiar, silky, long black hair falling into his mouth. Dark violet eyes, full, strong arms.

No. Not that. He couldn’t go there either. There was nothing left for him anymore.

It killed his momentum. Still aching below but too stormy on top. Stilling his hips, slouching over the mattress. He took a few deep breaths, trying to take in the room around him in pieces, grounding himself in the present. In reality.

He wiped his wet hand over his face then on the sheets below him, gripping hard. This was getting ridiculous. He felt pathetic. Tears burned behind his blessed eyes. He felt broken. He felt shame bubbling behind his navel. He couldn’t live like this. He needed to cum. He needed to release all of this build up and get himself right.

Satoru pulled his phone from the discarded pants and tapped it a few times. Until he found just what he was looking for.

Your phone screen illuminated your dark bedroom. Your humidifier was on, your lights had been long turned out. You had just fallen asleep after some restless tossing and turning. The screen lit up again, this time chiming out a text notification. That jarred you from the warm grip of dream and made your head spring up. You glanced at the screen, trying to read the too bright notification with sleep still coating your eyes. But before you could, it changed to the dimmer incoming call screen. It vibrated on the nightstand, suddenly too loud to ignore. You sighed, and retrieved it.

It was Gojo. He was calling you. You hadn’t seen him in months. fuck was that right? You thought back. You hadn’t seen him in…six months. The last time you left his gorgeous, perfectly styled, agonizingly well put together apartment, it hadn’t been on bad terms, by any metric, but it wasn’t like you were falling into each other's arms either. There hadn’t been any blow out or agreement not to see each other anymore, it just fizzled out. You were sure you had been disappointed when the calls and texts slowed to a trickle, but it wasn’t like you were dating or anything. You had hooked up a few times earlier in the year. No more than four times total. Okay, six times. Okay, nine times. Okay, you lost track somewhere in the second month. What really qualifies as hooking up these days, anyway? Just penetration or sexting? Oral? Hand stuff? Hand stuff in public? Other stuff in public? What should even qualify if you were keeping track -- which you weren’t! You answered the call.

“Do you know what time it is?” You sighed out, smiling through your feigned annoyance.

He purred on the other side of the line, “hmmmm, what are you wearing?”

“Pajamas, because it's almost one in the morning.” your voice was hoarse, sleep having laid your vocal cords to rest.

“Sounds hot.” You could hear his stupidly sexy smile, “You should come over. Can’t waste an outfit like that at home.”

You laugh, already planning how quickly you could pull yourself together, and whether or not the trains were still running, “You’re kidding me. I haven't heard from you in months. You call at an ungodly hour and expect me to come running over at the drop of a hat?”

“You don’t have to run, I’ll send a car.” He coos.

You laugh again, stretching in your bed, letting out a soft groan.

“mmmm, do that again.” His voice grew heavier, there was some suspicious sounding rustling on his end.

You stayed quiet, wanting to see if you would hear anything else and wanting to deny him.

“Now don’t be like that, baby.” He whines, he sounds pathetic “I need your help. It’s an emergency.”

You got out of your bed, still taking your sweet time, savoring his helplessness, “An emergency, huh? Nothing fatal I hope.”

His tongue clicks on the other side, “hmmm, it’s hard to say. Could be a fever, I’m feeling…hot.”

You hate that a line so corny is making you bite your lips to keep quiet. You slipped into a cuter, but still comfy lounge set, a bit more versatile than your pajamas “Sounds contagious, maybe it would be best if I stayed home…”

“Please!” His voice changed, cracking and almost panicked, “I need you, please.”

There was no version of this conversation that ended any other way, “Send the car.”

“Already outside.” You heard his face split into that gorgeous smile you couldn't resist, not even over the phone.

When you arrived at his front door, you didn't even have a chance to knock before he swung the door open. And fuck he looked good. Bad, but good? Not bad, just…disheveled. He hadn’t bothered to put a shirt on, inhumanly muscled torso glowy and flushed, his hair matted and unkempt, a pair of sweatpants hanging low on his hips. The long, angled white scar healed from an injury long past going from his shoulder to his opposite hip. You traced the line with your eyes, recalling the first time you had seen it, how he had moved your fingers over it, getting you used to the feeling of it under your touch, assuring you that it was long healed and nothing to fuss over. Every inch of him was perfect, despite his pain, his history. You couldn’t resist the way he made you feel like you were the only person in the world. Your ogling did not go unnoticed, looking up to his face you saw the smile you had heard so much of recently.

“Miss me?” He opened the door wider, allowing you to enter, ducking under his arm.

“Yeah.” You admitted rolling your eyes and stepping inside, leaving your shoes at the door.

You took in the sleek, cavernous town house around you. His decor hadn’t changed at all, a lovely front room, a staircase along one windowed wall, leading up to his bedroom. If you were to press further into the main floor, peeling back shoji screens you would find more bedrooms, frozen in time just as they were last left by their former inhabitants, his office, barely ever touched, a gorgeous bathroom complete with a personal sauna. For someone who spent nearly no time at home, he really did have the house dreams are made of.

“I can get you something to drink if you want.” He offers, shutting and locking the door.

“That’s okay. You sounded pretty desperate on the phone, I’d hate to keep you waiting.

He wasn’t totally ready for this part. Having to explain what was going on with him. He shifted a bit, he wanted you so bad. He needed it. He needed every part of you right now, but he couldn’t bring himself to say it.

“Come on Gojo, you got me out here. Don’t get shy on me now. What’s the big emergency?” You set your bag down on his expansive kitchen island, not subtly eyeing the absolutely incomprehensible bulge tenting the front of his sweats.

“It’s been so long, why the rush, Sugar?” He plays coy, approaching you with a suave gait, moving past you to the refrigerator, “Sparkling water? Still? I can go down to the cellar if you want something stronger?”

“Gojo…” You raise your eyebrows.

“I have tea or coffee if you prefer. Some sodas, you like diet right?”

“Gojo come on---”

“You know i'm not great in the kitchen but if you’re hungry I could---”

“Satoru!” You cut him off, finally pulling his attention from the icebox, “What’s up with you?”

His white eyebrows knit together in the center, making his eyes droop pitfully, “I can’t cum.”

You can barely hear his confession, and you must have heard him wrong so in earnest you ask, “What?”

“I can’t cum. For weeks, nothing. I try and I try and just…nothing.” He blurts, simultaneously relieved and mortified.

You know you shouldn't stare, that you should say something, but you’re dumbfounded. There was once a time, not too long ago even, where he had you bent over this exact counter pushing through his own leaking orgasm to bring you to tears. And that had been the third round that night. You always thought he was the untouchable man, a paragon of self control and pushed limits. To think of him unable to even pleasuring himself, it felt impossible.

“You can’t cum?” You say dumbly.

“Well now that you have repeated it, I think I must be cured, you can go now.” He rolled his eyes, leaning his shoulder against the fridge, fighting the hiss that bubbles in his throat from its chilling surface against his heated skin.

“I’m sorry!” You put your hands up like you had been caught, “It's just a little hard to believe! I never expected you to….struggle…in this…area.”

Gojo’s eyebrows flew up, every word you said made it worse. You could feel it but you couldn’t stop yourself. You were apparently determined to put every foot possible in your big stupid mouth.

“I just mean because you’re usually so good! How could this happen, are you sick? I don’t know why I would even ask that! Obviously you’re not sick, you're just….having some…dysfunction.”

“Why would you say dysfunction?” He stared at you, ego bruised but still amused at how poorly you were handling this.

“I didn’t mean like that! I Just---”

“Any other word. Any word in the world you could have said, and you go with dysfunction.” He chuckles, his own embarrassment now vacated completely in wake of how flagrantly you had just shit the bed.

“That was super dumb, and I’m really sorry. I have no idea what to say.” You just gave up on the second half of the sentence, knowing nothing you were saying was going to help.

“I don't have erectile dysfunction, the erection is not the problem,” He doesn’t have to gesture below his waist, the subject of conversation stands perfectly at attention, pushing against the flimsy fabric, “It won't go away, I’m stuck like this, and I can’t think about anything else, and I can’t get anything done. I need your help, you have to help me get rid of it.”

Your chest warmed a bit, a sly canary eating smile crossed your face, “So you called me, huh?”

“Yes I called you.” He sighs.

“Out of everyone you could have booty called to help your infinite boner, you call little old me? Gojo, I'm touched!” You sound like you're accepting a Nobel prize.

He rolls his eyes, “I knew you were going to be annoying about this.”

You took a seat at one of the bar stools at the counter, resting your head flirtatiously on your perched hands, “So like when you were choosing who to call, what made you pick me…am I just that good?”

You were, fuck you really were. He had thought about you so many times, Your perfect body, your pretty eyes, your soft hair, your legs around his hips, your fucking mouth. It had been too long over all, but it had been far too long since he had been with you. He called you because he knew you were great, and because he trusted you. He could be honest with you without judgement, your current reaction notwithstanding. He knew that he could count on you to be discreet and up front. There weren’t any guessing games when you were together, he didn’t have to guess or grasp for clues at how you were feeling. He knew you.

“That’s right.” He nodded, willing to let you have this.

You let out a teasing school yard oooooooooooooh. Batting your eyelashes and grinning widely, feeling like the absolute queen of the universe.

But he was growing impatient, “You gonna help me out, or what?”

“Sounds like I have quite the reputation to protect, how long has it been exactly?” You eyed him up and down.

“Still about twenty centimeters. Give or take.” He answers, “Oh! You mean--two months.”

“Months? Two MONTHS?” You gawked and then caught yourself, “I’m sorry I know that doesn’t help…I just can’t believe you’re upright. How are you not hospitalized?”

“If this conversation takes much longer I may have to be.” He crosses the room to you, leaning over where you are seated on the counter, putting his arm around you to grip the back of your chair.

You lean back, taking in a breath as he leans closer. Fuck, he’s so handsome. Perfect pearly skin, hair soft and fluffy, those fucking eyes holding you still under their gaze.

“Come on, Sugar, help a guy out. We’re friends right? Friends help each other.” His breath is sweet against your face.

You feel hypnotized, looking between his eyes and lips in a dizzying circle. His cocky demeanor you were so used to was crackling, you could see beads of sweat that had formed on his brow, his tongue wet and heavy kept his lips parted, drawing you closer. He smelled like him, warm and clean, the whole place smelled like him. You were completely in his arena, but you still had all the power. The Strongest asking you for help, begging even, you felt high. You tilted your head up, close to his face, catching his eyes,

“What are friends for?” You closed the distance between you, locking your lips together.

He is quick to pull you closer, making your breasts press hard against his chest, drawing a moan from both of you. His tongue slips past your lips, and maps the interior of your mouth quickly. Reacquainting himself with your taste. Even just a kiss, a real kiss, made his body shudder. His left hand holds your face, his long fingers splayed over your cheek, from your neck up to you temple, his right hand held the back of your neck, keeping you firm in place against him. You are far handsier than him in this moment. You can’t stop yourself, you missed his body, his kiss, him. Feeling his toned stomach, around his hips to his back, digging your nails in just enough to see if he gasps. He does not. Far too focused on the sloppy, dripping kiss he waited so patiently for. He’s leaning over you, pushing you further and further back, making you dangerously close to falling off the stool below you. But of course, his hand grabs your back, holding you still, right where we wanted you. Just past the point where you would have to engage your abs, but not far enough for you to want to hold yourself up. Muscles right on the precious of passive ability and focused contraction, forcing to to rely on his hold, trusting him completely, and he could feel you would relax into his palm, melting into his touch.

“Fuck, Gojo. You really are desperate.” You giggled as his kissed moved down to your jaw and neck.

He moaned against your skin as your nails clawed at his lower back, nodding his head passively, running his tongue over your pulse point.

“You’re so pretty.” He hooks your leg over his hip, pressing the problem child erection right against yours clothed cunt, drawing a shaky gasp from you.

“Not here.” He pulls himself away. “Upstairs…do this right…let’s”

He’s not finishing any of his sentences, you almost worry if whatever problem that resides in his cock could be spreading to his brain. But maybe it was contagious because you can’t bring yourself to care. Holding your hand a bit too tight, he pulls you forward and up the staircase to his bedroom. He doesn’t bother shutting the door, no one else has lived here in a long time. The house is quiet, bar from the panting breaths that drip from both of you, the rustle of clothes, and the reconnection of hot, desperate skin. You kiss him again, pushing him back toward the bed. He allows you to push him onto the mattress, disconnecting your lips.

“So?” You flirt, standing naked before him, letting him see all of you, “how do you wanna fix this?”

He has shed his sweatpants in the shuffle, propped up on his elbow, the other hand giving himself long, slow strokes.

“I’ve been dreaming about that mouth, baby.” He chews on the interior of his bottom lip, “show me if you’re as good as I remember.”

He spreads his legs, allowing you a good long look at how hard he really has become. Angry, pink tip swollen, veins along the shaft straining against the skin. The lower ab muscles are so strained you think they might pop. You had almost forgotten how fucking big he is. Everything about him was too big. His broad, strong body, his long spindly legs, built, strong arms hanging below his hips, those big hands with their knuckly fingers, his long, thick cock and the ego that accompanied. Seeing all of him, how big he was, made a shock run up and down your spine.

How the fuck had you fit this thing inside of you before?

“Oh, don’t be shy now,” he echos your earlier words, “you can take it.”

Not to be out foxed, you steel yourself and sink to your knees in between his spread legs. He stops stroking himself, leaning against both elbows now, waiting with held breath for you to begin.

Your put your hands on his knees, massaging them down and up, feeling the taut muscles of his thighs, the soft hairs under your hands.

“You think about me a lot?” You kissed the side of his left knee.

“Mhm.” His head hung backs exposing his delicious, wiry throat.

His adam’s apple bobbed as he gasped, you ran your nails down his legs, making his hips jerk upward.

“Don’t tease baby, it’s bad enough already!” He begged.

Fuck he sounded good like that. No one could swing the pendulum of pathetic and cocky quite like Satoru Gojo.

“Two months huh?” You carried on, giving open mouthed kisses up his thigh between thoughts, “you must be sooooo sensitive. Poor baby.”

He nods, his eyes squeezed right, trying to focus on every sensation you’re giving him.

Finally you reach the divot between his hip and the base of his pelvis, the internal hinge of his thigh. You ran your tongue along the muscle, tasting the salt of his body. His hips jerk again.

“Please!” He cries out, the lamp at his bedside flicker off and on again.

“Careful Satoru.” You warned, “all you had to do was ask.”

You swirl your tongue around the swollen, aching tip of his dick. Looping around the underside of the head and sliding your mouth down further.

Satoru was in heaven, his eyes rolled back in his head, he fought to keep his hips still, he didn’t want to hurt you, but fuck he wanted more.

You slide your tongue along each beautiful vein, making a perfect map in your head of the topography of his penis. Pulling off and sinking back down again you could take him all the way to the base, coarse white hair ticking your nose as your relaxed your throat to accommodate him he fell back against the bed, one hand moving your hair off your forehead so he could see your pretty face. He didn’t know what he wanted to do more, relax into the pleasure and let it wash over him, or watch you take him further. He leaned up to watch, just as your peeked on eye open to see him falling apart. But the eye contact was too much for him to bear, he felt his cheeks erupt in a blush, and he fell backward again, using one arm to shield his eyes.

You tutted, running his cock along your lips as your spoke, giving it sloppy kisses to make the syllabals, “oh Satoru, look at me, baby. Doesn’t it feel good?”

He nods but doesn’t look up. He can’t bear it. Your weepy eyes filling with tears from the lack of breath, your lips swollen, encasing his cock head. Your hair pulled to one side, giving him a perfect view of your hollowed cheeks as you suck and pull at him. With your spit coating his cock, the sensitivity has doubled. Wet, schlucking sounds fill his bedroom, alongside your haughty moans. Or wait…that’s actually him moaning like that. He doesn’t even recognize himself, he’s panting, sweating, begging. He didn’t even realize he was talking but the praises have been spilling from him continuously:

Yes

Baby yes just like that

Fuck you’re so good

You’re so pretty

Fuck you’re doing so good

Feels so good

Baby

Fuck

Sugar

So pretty

So good

I can’t I

Please baby make me

Fuck you’re

Agh

Oh

Fu

Oh

Ah

O

I

All he can manage by the time he looks back at you are open vowel sounds. It’s feels fucking incredible, perfect, if this were three months ago he would have cum in an instant. This was the closest he had felt, but it still wasn’t enough. He had to be inside you. The hand keeping your hair back rounded your face, his thumb pushing against your lips.

“I need to fuck you.” He says breathlessly, “I won’t cum until I fuck you, please.”

You pull off of him, a little disappointed that you wouldn’t get to brag about your head game, but you push it aside and join him on the bed. Clingy as he is, he pulls you close, kissing you hard again. Your mouth is wet with saliva and pre cum. He didn’t have the time to be impressed at your skill bringing forth the pearly substance, he coveted so greatly. He was too focused on being as close as two people can be. You move to straddle his lap, but he shakes his head, breaking from your lips.

“Bend over.” His mouth is wet now, both of you wet from lips to chin.

You grin and climb off him, stacking a few pillows to give you something to rest on and presenting your hips to him. Satoru is getting his bearings back, he feels more in control now that he has moved onto his knees behind you. Desperate as he is he can’t resist brushing two feather light fingers down your spine, watching you arch as he drags them further and further down. Your spine snakes, your hips sway, his fingers find the cleft where your spine meets your ass, a perfectly little dimple, waiting for his hands to paw at, your breathy moan eggs him on, sliding further down, feeling your tight asshole clench from just the lightest of contact.

“You remember when you let me back here?” He circles it, reminiscing, “you were so tight. fuck, you felt so good baby.”

“Remember when you let me back there.” You tried to sound tough but your position bent over with your head buried in your hands made it difficult.

“Mmmmhm.” He felt his dick twitch again, remembering when you had fingered him open, sucking him in tandum, he swore he saw an angel that night.

And here you were again, having rushed over in the middle of the night just to help him, trembling under his fingertips. Maybe you really were an angel. His very own guardian angel. If anyone could bed a steward of the divine it would be him.

“I thought you needed my help.” You whined.

He giggles, leaning over you, close enough that his lips touch your ear, his heavy cock pressing against your slit,“Just making sure you’re as needy as I am.”

He runs his tongue over the shell of your ear, making you squeal. Of course he remembered all your sensitive spots. He returned to his knees behind you, spreading you open, marveling at the mess you had made. Dripping honey onto the bed, onto your thighs, on his hand. His mouth floods, the desire to bury his head between your legs quickly matching his desire to cum.

“Later.” You whimpered, having read his mind, “you need my help.”

He beams, “so selfless.”

Finally, after an hour of build up since your arrival, the agonizing time waiting for you to get here, and the two months of celibacy that had brought him here, he aligned himself at your drooling hole, your spit was still shining along his cock but he ran either side though your folds anyway, making sure he was wet enough. He had fucked enough and had a big dick for long enough that he knew taking it all required some specific anatomy or a lot of prep, usually both. And while you were familiar with him, and giving yourself so willingly to him, he didn’t actually want to hurt you.

“Satoru please just—-“

The rest of your sentence would never see the air of his bedroom. It’s conclusion stolen from you and replaced with a pathetic scream as he pushed inside. He had meant to ease in but as soon as he started he couldn’t stop himself, he bottomed out in his first thrust. A loud smack of your ass hitting his hips still resounded in the room as he pulled back and thrusted in again. Your back arched evilly, dangerously close to snapping your spine in half. Despite his tunnel vision, Satoru eased his hand up your back, effortlessly smoothing it and gripping your shoulder for more leverage.

“Yes! Oh fuck yes.” He grunted, thrusting in an evil pace.

You couldn’t even speak, he was so deep, you were willing to bet his made an impression agains the front of your stomach. On your pillow pedastule you sank further, and reached up one formerly supportive hand to grip his on your shoulder.

“Sa…sa…” you panted out, not even able to string his name together.

He moved to long, languid, but devastatingly deep thrusts, the hand on your shoulder holding the side of your neck now, “that’s it, sugar. Say my name. Say my name, baby, come on.”

You tried, you really fucking tried but the letters wouldn’t come, “S—Sa—-sss.”

Your eyes rolled back, crumbling completely into the silken pillowcases, not caring if your spit or tears ruined the fabric. He spanked you once hard, making your head shoot up.

“I said say it.” He grunted.

Cocky for a man who was nearly in tears over the phone because he couldn’t bust.

“Satoru!” You finally spilled, his cock pushing hard against your g spot, “Satoru! Satoru please! Be gentle!”

Now that your voice had found you again it was hard not to beg him for mercy.

“Please baby, please! Fuck that’s so good.” You babbled, bringing a sick smile to his face.

He fucked harder, deeper into you, reveling the way your walls fluttered around him. You were so tight he had initially worried he was going to split you in two. But you are his angel, he should have known better than to deny your divinity. Satoru could hear your moans increasing in pitch and becoming choppy. He reached around your hip, finding the perfect pearl between your lower lips and circling his middle finger around. The clench that followed sent you both keening. His fingers brought forth an orgasm you didn’t think was nearly as close. Your hips shaking, biting into the pillow to keep from screaming.

“No baby, let me hear you.‘I need it.” He panted, not stopping his fingers on your clit or his evil thrusts, seeming deeper and deeper every second.

You tried to lift your head but felt dizzy, your vision wasn’t right, your clit throbbed beautifully but made you aware of how fast your heart was. Gojo pulled out turning you on your back, reinserting himself with a kiss to your cheeks.

“Don’t pass out on me, okay? I need you baby, I need your help. Help me, please.” He thrusted slower, only moving a few inches at a time as your came down from the mind fuzzing orgasm.

You nodded, coming back to yourself, you pulled your legs over his hips, your hands moving down the curves of his body. He slower thrust gave you time to admire him. He really was so beautiful. Looking at the sun and having to look away beautiful. His skin was reddening from effort and arousal, splotchy flushes that still couldn’t take away his perfection. The divots on his shoulders, the smell of his sweat, the taste of his spit. Fucking him felt like being completely encompassed in perfection incarnate. And you couldn’t feel luckier to have the chance to be so. He opened his pleasure screwed up eyes, those glowing blue irises, that contained so much of what everyone thought he was, looking down at you with so much trust, so much vulnerability, your heart lurched into your throat.

“You okay?” Satoru scanned your face.

You nodded, pulling him in to kiss you again, feeling his soft hair under your fingers. You held on as he increased his thrusts again. Speed, depth, power, all of it ramped back up to fainting orgasm levels.

Satoru was on the verge of tears, he couldn’t do without again. He couldn’t not cum one more time. He wouldn’t make it. He would bury himself into any hole you offered him again and again and again until he was free from this. Reaching back and pulling your leg over his shoulder, he allowed himself even deeper into you. He watched your face scrunch up in pleasure, your mouth drop open to catch hot, stolen breath from him. He wanted to make it easier, slotting his lips against yours and kissing you deep, tasting your pleasure. He swooned, his heart felt so tight and full it could burst, he was so grateful for you. For your body, your generosity, your care for him that you made look so simple. He knew he wasn’t an easy person to care about, but it seemed to him like you had never considered it cumbersome. Kissing you he felt the tears long built up by restriction begin to fall, wetting his own cheeks as well as yours.

“Satoru are y—-?” You worried against his lips, your hand in his hair moving from. A harsh grip to a soothing pet.

He shook his head, although you were right, “it’s okay. Thank you. Just thank you.”

He kissed you again and carried on thrusting, long and deep. He found your other hand and took it in his own, interlocking your fingers. Hips hard and fast, the friction not enough, he needed to touch every inch of you with every inch of himself. Your pressed against his chest as you moved to match his thrusts, putting aside the emotions that had arisen and remembering your purpose for being here. He had to break away from the kiss, pushing his forhead against yours, gasping out as you synced your thrusts together.

Oh.

Like a dim lantern in a barren desert, a non phosphorescent illusory light in a cave, the shine of climax came into his view. Still holding your hand, one of your legs over his shoulder, bending your body into a bizzare position, he chased it with everything he could. Drilling himself into your drooly, puffy pussy, again and again, causing you to cry out.

“Baby almost, cum with me, please! Pleasepleaseplease.” He squeezed your hand a bit too hard, your fingers felt cramped.

Well, they would, if you could feel them. And your leg would likely feel strained, if you could feel your hamstring still. But you couldn’t feel anything except the white hot pleasure bursting inside of you everytime he pushed against your gspot. Not breaking away from his hand, your other shot between your legs circling your clit, making you tighten up around him. Satoru cried out, the devilish squeeze of your walls felt like the last barrier between him and total bliss.

“Please baby, please.” He can’t control his voice, he doesn’t care, nothing matters when he is this close, “yes, cum around me. I need it. Cum.”

Your eyes flutter back, your head pushes against the pillow, your body erupts into cooling, overwhelming bliss.

Finally, his torment turns, the ache in his stomach unraveling. He can’t believe it, it’s finally about to be over, he feels your body shake underneath him, your hand gripping his so tightly, your cries filling his bedroom. Just at the precipice Gojo, steals one last look at your pleasure struck face, and he falls.

The lights in his bedroom bloom, swell, and overload. Bulbs bursting as he pumps himself through the most earth shattering orgasm he has ever known. Line after line of thick, long stored cum spilling from him into your waiting cunt. The room is plunged into darkness, he buries his head in your neck, panting hard.

You smile as you feel him filing you, and continue filling you. He had always cum a lot, he joked that it was his lineage begging him for continuation. But this was, beyond. Load after load of hot, desperate cum. He pushed his hips closer to you, his body yearning to become fused to yours. To never separate again.

You move one careful hand up his back, feeling the cooling sweat at his neck, the soft hair at the nape. His breath slows against your skin, but he doesn’t yet push himself off of you, keeping his heavy frame collapsed on you. But you don’t dare complain, committing the heat of his body to memory. The moonlight from the window is now, thanks to his discharge of power, the only light in the room. Your eyes adjust slowly, his features glowing in soft blue-white light. The air in the room is thick and full of both of you. Had you an eternity to indulge yourself in this moment, it would still feel too intangible to recall. But you try anyway.

Once his eyes have stopped spinning in their sockets like some knock out cartoon, Satoru pushes himself off of you, staying inside, just hovering above your body. His misty blue eyes look over every inch of you in a second. Taking in everything about this moment, how your skin reflects the moonlight, your eyes heavy and half lidded with sleep and bliss, your soft smile waiting for him to say something. But he wasn’t ready yet, he pressed his lips to yours again, firm but not desperate. He’s kissed you lavishly and with no burning sense of time. It could be called lazy if it weren’t for the focused decadence behind his mouth. He finally separates, thin silks of spit still unbroken between you two.

You brought your unheld hand to his face, cupping his cheek, watching as his eyes flutter shut. You could see tears drying on his cheeks, overwhelm and gratitude thier origin. The moon brought them forward for your viewing, you swiped a thumb under one eye. They both open under your touch, filling with something unreadable. He let go of your hand, opting to mirror your hold on your face, using one long finger to brush away a hair gelled to your sticky forehead.

“Thank you.” He reiterates, the frantic gratitudes from before nullified into a sincerity that made you nervous despite the juxtoposition of his cock still inside of you.

“Anytime, Satoru.” You can feel your cheeks heat, but your bliss doesn’t waver.

He slid out of you slowly, careful not to jostle his tingling, overstimulated length.

You both are left panting once he has been removed completely. He moved onto his side next to you, on his back, breathing up into the dark ceiling. You realize that you had no way of knowing what time it was. The thoughts of work and responsibility tomorrow we’re beginning to gnaw at the edges of your mind. You should get home soon, leave him to his new sexual freedom. You’d imagine he would be ready to pass out if he wasn’t asleep already. The expulsion of cursed energy enough to knock out the lights, enough to send him comatose.

You should know better than to underestimate him. Gojo sits up, stretching his long arms in front of him, allowing the formerly clenched back muscles to reset. Leaning back against his hands he looks down to you.

“I gotta change the bulbs and reset the fuse box. You wanna stay here? Once I’m done we can go again.” That flirty smile quickly irresistible, “orrrr, if you help me I’ll be done ever faster and I can thank you properly.”

You rolled your eyes, giggling, “I’m still recovering from the last favor I did for you. Come get me when you’re done.”

You settle back into his bed, the luxe duvet the perfect cloud-like weight on your shoulders. The smell of him clinging to every stitch of his sheets.

He moved off the bed, slipping on his underwear and making quick work of changing the burst light bulbs. This wasn’t the first time a miscalculated charge had knocked out the electrical system of his house. He had a private grid, it wasn’t that elegant but between the solar panels on the outside and a small self sustaining aquaphir underneath, it was nearly entirely self sufficient. So it was simple enough to fix when it did happen. When he switched the fuse box, the electric hum returned. Back in his bedroom he found you sleeping, curled up in his bedding, snoring softly. He moves some hair off your shoulder, fingers gentle on your thin, soft skin. Bare except for the duvet pulled over your shoulders. He crouched next to you silently, pressing a tender kiss to your cheek. He was lucky to have you, someone who would help him so readily, so selflessly. Someone he could trust and confide in. It had been a long time since he could trust someone like this. Still standing over you, he watched as your stirred, sleepy eyes opening to take him in, squinting against the refreshed lighting.

“Coming back to bed?” Your sleep riddled voice charmed.

“Oh I’m not done with you yet.” He moved into bed beside you, taking your body in his arms once again, his lips fighting home under your jaw.

He really was insatiable.

YAY!!! I hope y'all enjoyed this one. It was fun to write and fell together really easily. I am a lot less intimidated by writing gojo now. But I would love to hear yall's feedback on how it came off!! PLEASE! again, i have a much longer, more structured idea for him that I am wanting to build up to eventually so i would really love to know what yall think. Doodle <3 <3

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geto…..

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Nanami likes twisting your panties around his palm the same way- WHO SAID THAT????

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I’ve been known to enjoy a fucked up fantasy or two

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THE ETHICS OF RELATIONSHIPS - 'THE PROF GETO SERIES'

INSTRUCTOR INFORMATION Professor Suguru Geto Level: Advanced (18+) Total Points: 91,264 / 91,264 (100% Complete) Extra Credit Earned: 3,603 Recommended Study Playlist

COURSE DESCRIPTION Professor Suguru Geto is a renown ethics professor, and you're a 4.0, straight A student whose GPA he's trying to ruin (or that's what you think). Instead of dropping the class, you're more intent on making him see your brilliance -- but you get more than you bargained for, when the two of you learn more about the other -- and what you owe to each other.

COURSE REQUIREMENTS

I. I NEED SOMEONE OLDER....................................10,376 POINTS

II. ILLICIT AFFAIRS......................................................16,821 POINTS

III. THE WRONG PLACE AT THE RIGHT TIME......12,010 POINTS

IV. YOU DREW STARS AROUND MY SCARS.........14,288 POINTS

V. WAIT FOR YOUR LOVE..........................................12,464 POINTS

VI. TEACH YOU HOW FOREVER FEELS…………….25,305 POINTS

EXTRA CREDIT

I. SUDDENLY, I HAVE A VALENTINE.......................1,208 POINTS

II. SAY YOU CAN'T SLEEP (BABY I KNOW).............2,395 POINTS

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I want to lick his face

not mine, creds to the @p_a-to8 :3 (I found it on Pinterest)

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Been flying a lot for work/life. And on my last plane I got to thinking.

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(Threat)

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sukuna got shy when you gave him head, your mouth moving up and down his shaft while your tongue swirled around his twitching tip, swallowing every bit of cum that came out.

his hand covering half his face while he squinted his eyes at you, not wanting to stare at you, but he just couldn't take his eyes off of the erotic sight.

moving his hand to push you off his dick but found himself pushing your head down all the way to the base and lifting his hips, lifting your hips repeatedly until cum was filling your throat and sliding out the corners of your mouth.

of course he was embarrassed, watching you kneel in between his legs and taking his throbbing dick out, but he could admit that your mouth felt so fucking good, crying out for you to suck harder when he was about to cum.

"right at the top, more, more, more..." his words trailing off while his thighs tensed and his stomach sucked in, a bead of sweat on his forehead a few seconds away from falling.

don't you just love a man that gets shy when you go down on him?

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hardly working

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SHE'S HERE!!!!!!!! give this one a read if you wanna fuck the old man and if you aren't afraid of getting nasty. like really nasty.

---- Doodle

kishibe fuckers, I am cooking up something so nasty and so delicious i am so excited to publish it. I have been working on it for a few weeks now but I finally got the perfect time/moment combo to finish it. and OH BOY.

charge them vibrators, mama's ready to serve.

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exercise

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I cummed my shorts

✰ finally domming toji & he’s a brat about it… at first!

cw fem! reader, dom! reader, light bondage, premature orgasm, a little cum feeding :/

“you’re a mean little thing.” toji grouses between little pants of incredulity as you push him in his chest, forcing his bare back against the silken sheets. “c’monnn, this isn’t you. what happened to my sweet girl?”

“jesus, do you ever stop talking?” you bite, throwing a leg over his burly hips, straddling him. “should’ve gagged you.”

he sucks his teeth, scoffing. “doll, i don’t think that’s necessary.”

you huff an agitated breath. “then shut up. you promised to let me have this.”

tonight, your boyfriend has finally, finally given you the chance to call the shots… or try to, rather. however, he’s having a hard time letting go, relinquishing his inborn desire to assume power. it’s rare to see him like this, beneath you. still, he’s grasping at straws, hanging on to any fleeting shred of power that he can muster as you begin to tie his wrists.

nervously, you fumble with the thick piece of rope that you hold in your hands. a sleazy little grin kisses his beautifully scarred lips. toji almost can’t help but to laugh as you attempt to bind his wrists to the wooden headboard. something between a wince of pain and a groan of pleasure leaves him as you pull through the final loop, finishing your double column tie.

he groans. “a little tighter, yeah?” it’s hardly a joke, but he pulls at his restraints roughly, wrists aching.

you pout, dropping your head to the right in feigned concern and you can hear the breath that catches in his throat. toji, far too stubborn to admit, loves you like this, bad. it took a lot to get here—days of begging, bribery, orgasms. he’d only be kidding himself if he said this isn’t turning him into such a… whore. after all, how could he say no to his pretty girl?

something warm and dangerous twitches against your inner thigh. the sweet tune you hum as you trail an idle finger down, down, down his heaving chest makes his hips rut beneath you, a fruitless attempt at finding release. a guttural sound is parting his lips when you take one of his hardening nipples between your thumb and index.

“you know, i could get out if i wanted.” it’s breathless, a wicked grin pulling at the corner of his mouth. “you did a good job…” he pauses, gaze flickering up to observe his bounded wrists before tugging at his restraints, “but this won’t hold me, pretty girl.”

you scoot down a bit, revealing the pretty, achy bulge that rests so angrily between his strapping thighs. briefly, his eyes meet yours, the subtle furrow in his brows making your core tighten with need. a slow, teasing finger skims the stubble beneath his waistband. his stomach caves, sinking in his ever growing arousal.

“you know, maybe i should gag you.” you finally reply after some thought. the notion lingers on your conscious as you drop your head, kissing him through his underwear. “you’re insufferable when you’re not in charge.”

toji can’t help the near feral buck of his hips, an ensuing growl dragging from his mouth. he can feel himself losing his fucking mind as you drag a warm palm over his clothed cock. a violent shudder rattles his body, an unintentional gasp pulling his jaw slack.

“baby, it h-hurts… c’mon now, you’re being mean.”

“take your cock out then.” you challenge, backing away slightly to watch as he struggles. “show me you what it is you want.”

scoffing, he rolls his eyes, looking like the grumpiest of bears as he ruts his hips helplessly, desperately attempting to wriggle out of his underwear with his hands tied above his head. you smile, a pretty little giggle leaving your lips. watching toji struggle to find relief makes a warm, electrifying heat pool between your thighs. how the fuck could he ever deny you of this?

“fuuuck! i can’t!” it’s merely a high-pitched whine as he huffs frustrated little breaths through his flaring nostrils. “help me! you tied me t-too tight, i can’t do it.” he’s whimpering now, chest heaving in time with the mindless jerk of his hips. “baby, i need you to take it out for me. p-please okay?”

never. you have never seen him like this and you’re not sure how there was a time that existed before. a raw moan of relief is belting from his lungs when you finally slip a hand down his tightening briefs. your fingers brush over the twitching length of his erection, collecting the syrupy precum that adorns the head of his weeping cock.

with your other hand, you’re tugging his underwear down and his head is deliriously nodding back to rest against his pillow. your fist wraps around the base of his cock, squeeeezing. the messy tip drools, rivulets of pretty, pearlescent arousal drip, drip, dripping down his throbbing shaft.

“god, j-just put it in your mouth. don’t be like that… why are you being liked this, huh?” instinctively he tugs at his bindings, attempting to reach out for you but finds that he can’t.

he is so fucking desperate for it, yet he can hardly stomach the thought that it’s him begging like a slut to feel your tongue on the head of his cock. god and he’s just pitifully unaware of how he’s fully whining—the usual bass of his tone lost in the pathetic quaver of his crackling voice, reaching an octave so high that it shocks even you.

still, you shake your head, a bewitching smile gracing your lips. instead, you’re shifting lower, lolling out your tongue as you peer at him through batting lashes. toji’s breath hitches as you drool down the length of his cock. a longggg string of saliva tethers your bottom lip to his cock head as you start to stroke him from the base.

toji’s mouth gapes, yet nothing of coherence is uttered. he babbles mindlessly, those dark, drunken eyes stupidly following the hand that works at his cock, utterly enthralled by the subtle twist of your wrist as you near the weeping head. he curses to himself, needy hips still attempting to buck underneath your weight.

with your legs on either side of his body, you keep him grounded as you pump up and down his angry shaft. your warm, wet lips are trailing along his tightening abdomen. the poor boy writhes beneath your touch, his body reacting in a way you didn’t know was possible—his spine bows, hips bucking almost carnally as his stomach caves, arousal swirling deeep in his core.

“please.” it’s merely a breath as you nip the soft skin behind the shell his ear, soothingly dragging your tongue along the forming bruise. “will you kiss me at least?”

you peck the corner of his gaped mouth once, pulling away before he can even register your fleeting lips. toji turns his head, chasing your teasing lips and you smile, swiping your thumb over the head of his cock which pulls the filthiest little groan from him.

he pouts, thick brows furrowing slightly. “you’re being mean.”

“oh, you poor babyyy.” his cock jerks against the palm of your hand at your sweet, condescending tone. “maybe i should keep you like this forever, hm? actually think i prefer this.”

“mmh—why? you like torturin’ me?”

you nod, bringing a hand up to his pretty, contorting face. he can hardly help the subconscious part of his mouth as you tap your fingers against his bottom lip. like an obedient boy, he’s swallowing around the digits with a satisfactory gurgle of unwitting pleasure. curiously, your fingers creep farther down his throat, the tips brushing the very back of his wet tongue.

saliva drips from the corners of his mouth and he gags once, his sable, lust-ridden eyes welling with thick tears. the smile that mars your face is sick, but it’s pulling a loud moan from the depths of his chest. another helpless sound leaves him when your hand tightens around his weeping cock.

“god, i’m so close.” toji gasps around the digits in his mouth, peering down at his furious cock and your jerking hand. his jaw is falling slack, head dizzily slumping to one side. “f… fuck, it feels so good—your hand feels s’gooood. g-gonna cum, can’t h-help myself. you are just sooo pretty like this, baby.”

“yeah? you gonna cum for me already?” the coy tilt of your head makes his stomach sink. a victorious smile cracks along your face. “hardly touched you.”

toji nods dumbly, breath hitching. his hips stutter pathetically, rocking against the agonizing jerk of your fist. the most beautiful sound leaves him, something like a whimpering gasp, his heaving breaths shuddered and choked. it’s loud and shameless and like nothing you’ve ever heard. several, long ropes of pearly white cum follows, coating the expanse of his chest and abdomen like it was meant to.

it’s perfect. everything about this image is perfect. toji looks so pretty drenched and heaving in his own arousal. you watch as his warm, sticky seed trickles down his perspiring skin. you almost can’t help the curious fingers that are dragging along his pectorals, collecting the mess.

“don’t.” is all he mutters as you creep the cum-soaked digits toward his lips.

you smile sweetly. “open.”

and with a dramatic roll of his eyes, he does. he takes your fingers into his warm mouth with a deep, guttural groan, sucking on them until nothing remains. a triumphant smile graces your lips as you push them further, forcing a proper gag from the depths of his throat.

“okay! okay, you’re doing too much, doll… untie me now.” he grouses, drool pooling against his tongue.

you hum in contemplation, tracing mindless shapes against his skin. “and if i don’t?”

“if you don’t and i get out on my own,” he pauses, lifting his head slightly to take in this beautiful sketch of you before smiling something sinister. “you’re gonna fucking regret it.”

it’s a threat and you know it is, so why does it make your core tighten with a need you’ve never known? why does it make your mind race at the possibility of punishment? discipline? it’s merely a warning, yet your cunt aches at the thought of him escaping, it makes your body burn with a fire the begs to be doused and it’s toji who must do it, so you challenge him.

“then why don’t you get out and make me regret it.”

[plotsignificanthaircut555]

Breaking the Surface (Sex Pollen Kishibe x f!Reader) MDNI

Due to dwindling devil hunter numbers, you accompany your former mentor, Kishibe, in a run of the mill Devil acquisition. Upon encountering the devil, you both begin to experience some...side effects.

wc: 12.9k Ao3 Masterlist

Warnings: SEX POLLEN AND THEREFORE DUBIOUS CONSENT!!!! (if that is not your thing, please be on your way and we will see you in the next one, love you), enemies to fucking, mean Kishsibe, smoking, drinking, aphrodisiacs, age gap (like late 20s/30s and 50), kissing, spit, sex in an alley, blood (both Devil and Human, but not that much), hypnosis, sex marathon, doggy, missionary, sex marathon, cum, a lot of smell/scent stuff again.

What a joke.  

The thought hung between the two of you, Kishibe in the driver’s seat, and you in the passenger, grumbling out the window. The disgruntled huff rattled in both of your skulls, throbbing against the increasing headache. Neither of you wanted to be here. Or rather, neither of you wanted YOU to be here. Makima bade you join him on what should be a simple execution with little to no complexity. Kishibe was the top of the top, with literally no need for backup taking down a middling level devil. You were perfectly capable, but not even really exceptional, but not a rookie who needed more demonstration either. But, instead of getting your own assignment or group to lead, you were stuck basically being the audience and late report filer for today’s excursion. Your day would consist of standing around, trying to stay out of the way, while he did all the real work, and you’d have the paperwork while he drunk himself stupid back at home. You sighed out, feeling the tension in your head building, the pencil callus on your middle finger already aching. 

“How much further?” You huffed, glancing at the time, disheartened to find it was already approaching mid afternoon. 

“Why, you got something better to do?” Kishibe’s eyes stay locked on the road before you. 

“Better than watching you kill a devil barely half my threat level? Yeah, anything else.” You roll your eyes, squinting as the late morning sunlight peered over the drop down visor.  

He didn’t respond, just carried on driving as if you hadn’t even spoken to him. 

You roll your eyes again and remember Makima's instructions when you had complained, “You’ll go in as a team, numbers are slim right now so everyone pairs even if their ranks don’t align. No one goes alone.” 

Public Safety was scrambling, for personnel, for intel, for quality hunters. Hours had become brutal, late nights bleeding into early mornings with barely time for a shower at home. The office floor was growing more barren every day. Chairs which had once been home to colleagues now sat empty, pushed into desks with dust collecting personal effects that would eventually be collected and trashed by the custodial crew. Everyone was on a razor edge, feeling the impending fate breathing down their necks. Irritability was at an all time high.  

“—total bullshit.” You mumbled, shaking your head and pulling at the skin of your fingers. 

“I didn’t remember you having such a shitty attitude before.” Kishibe took a smooth right turn. 

“It’s been a long time since you were my teacher, Kishibe. A very long time. And I have a perfectly fine attitude, when my time isn’t being wasted.” 

Kishibe grunted in response, taking another turn and stopping the car. 

“Get out and fill the back right tire. It’s getting low.” He commanded, voice passive. 

You looked around the windows realizing you had pulled into a gas station’s air pump. The dashboard didn't even have a tire pressure warning. Was he just trying to piss you off?

“It’s your car.” You settled into your seat further. 

“You’re under my instruction.” 

“What?” You rolled your neck to face him with lidded cold eyes, “ Your old knees can’t get that low anymore, maybe you ought to take a back seat on this one, huh?” 

“So which is it, am I a decrepit old man who can’t do anything alone or am I too good to be wasting your precious time as my caddy?” He glared at you, watching your face contort in indignation, the squeak of your teeth grinding egging him on, “I’m just confused, your story’s inconsistent.” 

“Fuck, fine!” You took off your seatbelt and got out, circling to the back of the driver’s side and unscrewing the valve cap and attaching the hose.

Air hissed rhythmically into the tire, which inflated itself. It was barely flat to begin with, he was just proving how easy it was for him to do whatever he wanted. He had always been an asshole, even beyond the time you had known him. Your months training under him were grueling. He pushed you hard, kicked your ass harder. But it was effective, you learned to take a hit, how to avoid taking said hit. For a while you found yourself admiring him. His power, his speed, his agility and experience. In your early days as a devil hunter, you had found yourself drawn to him. Wanting to know about whatever tragic backstory had scarred him, damaged him so that he became so callus, so vicious. Secretly wondering if you did well enough, or lingered long enough after hours if he would confide in you. Maybe he would even---- no. You didn't allow yourself to finish that thought, at least not often. He may be handsome and fit and strong, but he was mean and probably certifiable. He was one of those guys who was born an asshole and despite his heavily borrowed time, he would one day die an asshole. 

The day was not starting well, at this rate it would be a miracle if you both held out long enough to actually face the devil. The pump began to beep, alerting you that the tire was full. You reset the machine for the next user and walked around the car and slipped back into your seat. Kishibe looked over at you boredly. You got your hand coated in whatever car road gunk, now turned them ashen and tried to brush off the bulk of it onto your pants, feeling the ickiness of it sink into your palms. 

“Gonna get dirtier than that, you sure you're up for it?” Kishibe mocked your disgust, starting the car and looking just barely backwards to back out of the pumping station. 

“I don’t remember you offering to get your hands dirty.”

Silence settled between the two of you. The drive continued, the car hummed, the radio was barely audible. Some  You turned your attention back to your cuticles, allowing the sound of wind rushing past the cracked windows to fill the silence. 

A dance pop song played on the radio, something about a woman begging her cab driver to get her to her booty call faster, before she changes her mind. Being desperate and touch starved was a feeling you knew well, especially as of late. The late nights had recently cost you your most recent in a string of casual lovers. One too ‘sorry, stuck at work.’ flake outs too many. You couldn’t blame them either, it wasn’t like you were all that present when you did manage to make it to your dates. Dating outside the company would always carry this barrier, between yourself and civilians. But dating within the walls of Public Safety carried all the traditional “don't shit where you eat” consequences, with a perfect cherry of “they, or you, will die horribly and leave the other to mourn” on top. You knew getting into Devil Hunting would make your life harder, potentially even shorter, but not getting laid? You’d rather be torn apart by the next devil you saw than forgo a good, consistent fuck. Or maybe you were just annoyed because your lover ex lover, as of late had dumped you, it meant you wouldn't be having sex this week, making this the fifth week in a row for you. Over a month of no sex. You can’t remember the last time you had gone without this long. The distraction of work kept your day-mind occupied, but when you’d return home, for however briefly, you found yourself starving for the touch of someone else. You were an effective partner for yourself, you knew your body well and particularly how to orgasm quickly and quietly, aiding your slip into sleep. But it wasn’t the same, you couldn’t lose yourself in the same way you could when you were with someone else. The way your mind would be consumed by the wholeness of the act; their movements, their body, the smell, the sight, the sounds. You’d find yourself stuck in your own head, barely rubbing out an orgasm before rolling over and falling asleep. It had been too long. Far too fucking long. 

Even thinking about how much you craved sex began to make you wet. You felt the tug behind your navel, alerting your attention lower. You fidgeted in your seat, the sun in your eyes once again, the heating of your skin making your suit jacket feel restrictive and stuffy. 

Kishibe noticed your wiggling. He watched out of the corner of his eye as you unbuttoned your jacket and tried to shrug it down your arms. Between the seatbelt and the cramped passenger side it was an awkward little dance that finally got it off you. He stayed focused on the road, praying the traffic would lighten so he wouldn’t be stuck in this ever heating box with you. You lay your jacket in your lap and adjust your seatbelt, not realizing how it found its place right across the center of your chest. Kishibe’s eyes didn’t even hesitate before peeking at the cleft between your breasts. Your shirt's fabric pulled tight, making the gaps between the buttons stretch, giving him the faintest glimpse at your skin underneath. A few rapid blinks cleared the image long enough for his eyes to turn his attention back to the road. He swallowed, tilting his neck to onside until it cracked. 

He needed a cigarette, he needed his flask out of his coat pocket, he needed something to stimulate him. Something to consume his mind other than the growing, burning thoughts. It was just the nature of the assignment. It was infecting the air of the car, shaking you both with its humid imagination. 

The Lust Devil. The Devil grown from the fear and shame of sexuality, ranging from infidelity, adultery, sexual violence, to personal repressive shame, etc. attraction and sexuality was a sensitive topic for nearly everyone alive, making its corresponding Devil powerful. Although, from the intel gathered by the information sector, its raw power wasn’t extensive. Its defensive power was harder to get an idea of, the previous reports that had been filed had been vague at the most helpful and fully redacted at the least. Hence why the top devil hunter was tasked with its capture. It had most recently been spotted in one of the shadier clubbing districts that Tokyo had to offer. Not a lot of tourists, nothing flashy, just a strip of bars, pachinko parlors, a few behind-the-false-wall establishments that were illegal, but documented. Likely favored by police or lawmakers in the area who could be bought out to turn the other way. Corruption was rife, making it the perfect breeding ground for devils. The sun was beginning to sink, the early afternoon was stretching, inching toward sunset. Finally Kishibe pulled the car into a car park six blocks from the suspected nest. He turned the key, plunging the car into silence. It felt suffocating, at least the awkwardness of the drive had been somewhat mitigated by the ambient car noise and the radio. You both hesitated for a moment before you moved to unbuckle your seatbelt. The click of the belt covered his sigh as he followed suit. You both exited the car and began to make your way out to the street. 

The air had been sticky but an evening chill tingled the back of your neck, cooling your cheeks, which you realized had been burning. He reached into his breast pocket, retrieving his flask, unscrewing the cap. You rolled your eyes at his dependence, redressing yourself in your uniform jacket. He took a sip, your eyes crept over, watching the way his throat tightened. The stubble running down his neck was getting lighter, as was the scar from lip to ear. When you had met him, it had still been pink at its deepest points, the cross hatches where staples had once been were more pronounced, which now were faded and pale. You watched as his adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed whatever vice he had stashed away in advance. When you looked back up to his face he was looking back at you. He extended the curved silver flask to you. You accepted, taking a sip, trying to ignore the thoughts about the stick of his lips still lingering on the spout. You took another quick one, letting what you now knew was whiskey scorch down your tongue and throat. It was harsh and spicy, scouring down through your chest, spreading its warmth, bringing you closer to your center. You let out a long breath and handed it back and continued walking silently.

The crowds hadn’t yet died down. Throngs of people bustling in and out of buildings, waiting for crosswalks, car horns, wind, the taste of the whiskey, your senses were sharpened by circumstance so it all washed over you. Ordinarily you would have found yourself pushing through crowds, but Kishibe, at his imposing height and build seemed to create space for the pair of you. The uniform helped, that black tie and jacking becoming symbolic for people to know to leave Devil Hunters to their work, not try and engage, and certainly to not get in the way. It wasn’t long before you reached the cross street of the last reported sighting. There was no guarantee the devil would still be there, or even in the area, but you would have to start somewhere. Your left thumb had been subconsciously clawing at the cuticle line of your ring finger, it wasn't until you felt the wetness on your fingertip that you realized you had broken the skin. You pulled your hand out of your pocket and watched the blood on your nail bed bead up until the surface tension broke, making it drip down your finger. It felt auspicious, something about it made your stomach twist. Trying to put it to the back of your mind, you wiped it across your pants and pressed forward. 

Kishibe noticed your delay, and it pushed him over the precipice. The car ride, the attitude, the tire, was whatever, but you were in the field now, there wasn’t room for more of your bullshit. He gripped your arm, pulling you to the side further from the street, a hushed scold coloring his tone.

“You going to make it?” He scoffs. 

“What?” You tried to tug your arm back, his strength making your attempt look foolish.  

“You’re off your game.” He squeezed your arm harder “You can’t do anything if your mind isn’t here. Whatever problems you have with scheduling or pairing, just deal with it tomorrow. But I need you here.”

He was right, you had let too much of your external frustration seep into the task at hand. Letting your personal gripes influence work would get you killed, you had seen it first hand. Before you could tell him he was right, he spoke again. 

“If it’s a problem with me, I don’t care what you think I did. I don’t care that you think is a demotion to work with me. I don’t care. I chose you because I trained you well, you have experience, and I trust you. But it isn’t your choice. You do the job you're given, got it?” 

“You--” Your brows wrinkled, “you chose me?” 

“And regretted it nearly immediately. What the fuck happened to you?” He bit. 

“I--”, you were speechless, your callus complaining in the car ringing in your ears, the selfish indignation with which you had entered the mission, “I didn’t realize, I’m sorry.”

It was such a stupid thing to say, but it was all you had. The truth was you had missed working with him, but the stress of the job had become so overwhelming, and the years had stretched on with less and less contact, it became really easy to forget that he had been a good partner. 

“Don’t apologize to me, just fucking tighten up.” He scoffed, releasing your arm and straightening his back, “Just do your job, don’t die, when we get back and I'll rescind my request.” 

He started to turn to continue the walk but you reached out to stop him. 

“Captain wait,” You started but a crash from the alley closest to you stopped you both in your tracks. 

Stepping in time with one another you rushed to the opening of the alley, peeking around the edge of the bodega on one side and seeing nothing but shadow and the colors of sunset. Deep reds and oranges filtering over the tops of the dumpster, stretching back and back further. Two fire escapes were nearly touching about eight feet above your head. This alley didn't have a dead end, it looked to stretch at least a block and a half back, with two internal alleys stretching perpendicular about twenty feet back. It was a tight fit, but pretty standard. The time for discussion was over, you had to get to work. 

Kishibe stepped into the alley first, his dark eyes sharp and locked on the intersection between internal alleyways. You stepped in behind him, taping off the exit, indicating to any wandering pedestrians that there was a possible gas leak. Why devil hunters needed such benign sounding rouses, was above your pay grade, but still never quite made sense. You followed behind him closely, but far enough back that you could see around his broad frame. For a man as big and tall as he was, his steps did not make a sound. You couldn’t even hear the rustle of his jacket as he pulled a twenty centimeter bowie knife from his chest holster, it seemed to just extend from his hand silently. You pulled your own, smaller, but much thinner blade, from an internal pocket in your coat, along with a spool of razor thin wire. He stopped silently and you stopped not even a foot behind. If someone were to see your bodies in profile, they would see the two of you made the same shape, a light bend in the knees grounding your feet, torsos leaned forward, eyes and ears open, hands tight around your weapons of choice. You slipped on a pair of thin sheepskin gloves, something that wouldn't be penetrated by the sharp wire.  

Kishibe put his unarmed hand behind his back, showing you his palm. A signal he had taught you to mean Target Present. You took in a silent breath, he did the same. Finally you could hear the soft rustling of the devil. No, it wasn't rustling. It sounded almost like it was…talking? Like hearing a whispered conversation happening two rooms away, you can hear that there is talking, but you can’t hear what it is or even make out the voices. This didn’t sound like a voice, more like a collection of voices. It was just barely audible over the road noise and wind. But he could hear it, and now so could you. Whatever you were going to kill tonight was right behind the corner. You pushed your now gloved index finger into his palm softly. Your way of telling him I’m ready. 

There hadn’t been an alley to your right in over a block, so it was likely there was a dead end at the end of this corner.

 What Devil would corner itself? 

Before you could express your concern Kishibe stepped forward again. Then once more with his inhuman speed. Your body followed, attaching one end of your spool to the corner's edge and rushing behind him to line it along the opening, quick to attach the other side and duck underneath. He moved so fast you could barely see the Devil in front of you. It was so much…smaller than you anticipated. Only a few feet tall, thin and lanky. It was a deep grey/blue, shiny and goopy. You couldn't study it too long before you strung another line to the first ducking down to create an identical nearly invisible block a few feet lower. 

Kishibe was making quick work of rushing and slicing where he could. The Devil seemed to be making little effort to fight back, just hopping from one spot to the next. It was fast, too fast, it seemed as though it was apparating in different spots rather than moving. Left and right, behind, in an unpredictable rhythm that had Kishibe pivoting sides more than doing any damage. He was usually silent when fighting, but you heard the huffs increasing in volume as he struck out. You watched closely, trying to decipher some kind of pattern in its movement. 

Behind, right, behind, left, right, behind, left, behind….

When it struck you. Why wouldn’t it just go up?

The alley wasn’t covered, the area had only a single fire escape on the left building’s wall. You estimated it was only nine or so feet above you. From there it would be a swift jump/climb for the creature to escape to the rooftops. 

It doesn’t want to escape. 

“Kishibe!” Your voice clawed out of your throat, with no permission of yours. 

Kishibe lunged to the right, finally catching the end of the gelatinous tail, lobbing off a few inches. The Devil, now trimmed, jumped to the left. Kishibe’s eyes were fixed in the way the tail’s nub was stuck to his blade. Only for a moment, a split second of distraction considering his arsenal. Deciding between using a different blade or sticking with this one. You rushed the creature as soon as you saw his stutter step, closing in on the fighters. Just in time for it to unfurl a long, proboscis tongue. It uncoiled itself vertically like a butterfly would, taking only a fraction of a second before expelling a fine mist over the both of you. Kishibe squinted, not wanting to close his eyes completely in case of a follow up attack, but you couldn't help it, the sting in your eyes, making you squeeze them shut. It made you cough. It tasted like nothing, but the inhalation was jarring. It felt like steam, it smelled like…ambergris, or sweat or lilac. Something warm and rich and deep. Not bad, just full. And organic. 

“Don’t breathe in.” Kishibe commanded, breaking his own instruction by extension. He could feel whatever the liquid was on his lips, on his tongue, tingling the buds as the sank in. 

Finally the amalgamated voice joined into language, or perhaps the mist granted you a level of understanding you didn’t previously possess. 

Too late. 

Kishibe didn’t allow it to continue its speech, bringing his blade down through the eye of the Devil, further and further until the thing was nearly bisected. It twitched briefly before stilling itself, blood pooled around its body. 

You both had the same realization. 

“This wasn’t it.” You vocalized for both of you, no Devil would have gone down that easily, or cornered itself. 

“No it wasn’t.” Kishibe sheathed his knife, his flask found his hand, “This is just a piece of it. Probably not a very big one.”

You sighed, looking down at what remained of the bait that you had so easily fallen for. A Devil that could split itself into smaller, independently functional parts. It was horrifying to imagine the magnitude of what a power like that could do. The thing looks even smaller now split and limp on the ground, it could be useful  to try and bring it back with you, give the lab team something to study. You saw plasma or some kind of internal fluid spreading out further, faster and thinner, than the blood was. You crouched closer, trying to examine the opalescent liquid. 

“Don’t get too close.” Kishibe warned, using the upper arm sleeve of his coat to wipe blood from his face. 

You felt the dew on your own face, swiping one finger across your cheek, looking at it. Shiny, thin, with a small iridescent sheen. It was the same. Whatever sap was leaking out was the same thing the Devil had sprayed you with. 

“Flask please.” You asked. 

Kishibe handed it to you wordlessly. You dumped its remaining contents onto the asphalt. 

“What the fuck—“, he started but you tuned out. 

You tried to scoop as much of the fluid up as you could into the now empty flask. You couldn’t really get that much but even a few milliliters would be enough to study. Your heart began to pound, thoughts of poison and infection raced through your mind. If whatever that was was going to try and kill you, gathering some of the source would be the quickest way towards inoculating yourselves. 

“We have no idea what that shit was that it sprayed at us. We need a sample.” You stood up from your crouch handing the flask back to him. 

“You could’ve let me clear it first. That’s just wasteful.”, he took it back snappily, shaking his head. 

You rolled your eyes, of course he would find a way to complain about you potentially saving both of your lives. 

“Whatever. If you get sick and need this, I hope you live long enough for me to say I told you so.” You removed your gloves, “We have to be close to the nest, why else would it send out a scout?” 

Kishibe cleared his throat and blinked a few times. His head was starting to spin. That swimming, swirling feeling he usually only allowed himself once he was back home and there were no more devils to fight, no more choices to be made, only thoughts to silence and sleep to wait for. He hadn’t drunk nearly enough to be that drunk already. Usually when he was drunk his mouth felt dry, but now he was close to drowning. Swallowing down excess saliva over and over. This was something else.

Your heart was still racing, your mind chasing it down. You were starting to sweat, clammy hands and cheeks chilled by the wind that leaked into the alleyway. You felt on the verge of a panic attack, you were starting to panic when you felt it. A lick of yearning pulling at you. A pulse emerging from your clit. Your panties all too quickly became wet. Your nipples peaked and strained against the fabric of your bra painfully. Your mouth whetted itself, your tongue feeling loose and floppy among so much moisture. You no longer cared to examine the body of the Devil crumpled beneath you, you looked up to Kishibe. His eyes were darker than you had ever seen them, they seemed to be endless pools of abyss, begging, pulling, thralling you into them, into him. You had never noticed quite so closely the details of his face; high, pronounced cheekbones, hollows so symmetrical that even the long healed gash on his left cheek couldn’t take away the beauty. 

You had seen a picture once, of him in his 30s. It was buried in some file, it wasn’t a great picture, he was bloodied and bruised, you hadn’t read the whole report attached but you could assume it was some kind of incident report. In this moment, in this alley, with whatever drug was now being carried by your bloodstream, you saw him for the younger man he was once. The same man he had always been. Only for a moment, his hair fluffy and dark, skin supple and bouncy, lips not yet wrinkled by time, full and wet. Those same lips faced you now, years of smoking seemed to have skipped aging this part of him. The eyes never change, the ones in the picture had been just as cavernous, just as unreadable. Like a shark, catching the wounded, wiggling fish it had traced for miles. The black iris and pupils bleeding together, stark against the white sclera. No wrinkle or bag in their periphery would ever make those eyes less terrifying to be caught in. Those shark eyes held you steady in their gaze. 

“What?” You asked, panted, actually. 

He didn’t answer, just looked you over, taking in every inch of your body. 

“Kishibe, what?” 

He cocked his head just barely, that god awful neck crack sending a jolt straight to your flooding panties. 

“Stop looking at me like that. What is it?” Your cheeks burned, everything burned, you needed to loosen your tie or take your jacket off or fuck take everything off. 

“Do you feel it too?” His voice was different, rough, strained. 

Your blood fell cold again, despite the burn in your cheeks. Piece of the puzzle were falling together, but fuck you didnt have it in you to dare look at the whole picture yet. Your brain was starting to fuzz, boundaries of station and taboo blurring together. 

You looked up at him with concerned eyes, pulling your jacket down your shoulders and dumping it onto the dirty ground without a second thought.  “This isn't good. I feel…sick…”

But that wasn't the right word, you felt your body aching, heating and cooling too rapidly to maintain, shivers and sweats commingling into an internal hurricane. 

“What do we do? Do we just---” You couldn’t speak the lewd ideas out loud, shame clogging your throat, making it hard to breathe. 

He took one carefully measured step toward you. He wasn’t sure what to do either, he didn't have enough blood in his brain for reason, too much of it had fled to his cock. Which now strained against his pants so hard that he worried for the integrity of the button. You looked so concerned, but so good, the grime of combat appeared a better enhancement than the finest makeup in the world. Your eyes were large and wet, not crying but filling with moisture the same way his mouth was still drooling. You saw how you shifted your weight, a small gasp escaping you as--he speculated-- the inseam of your pants pressed too closely against  you. Fuck he wanted to give in, to take it away, he wanted you, he wanted you so badly he thought this might actually be the thing that finally kills him. 

You shifted again, uncomfortable under his gaze. You pulled at the knot of your tie, tugging it loose, praying it would give you some kind of relief. It did not. You undid your top buttons, hoping the evening air would cool your neck. He could see the sweat beading along your neck, for a moment he tasted the salt and sweetness on his still stinging tongue. Kishibe groaned, this was not helping his situation at all. His dick strained further, his heart wasn't even aching any more, it was spasming. Painfully. Was he having an actual fucking heart attack? 

“Okay fuck it.” He gasped out, he felt lightheaded, this was happening too quickly“This will get worse before it gets better, I need to fuck something, now, and I don’t know how long I can hold out and I know you feel it too.”

He said it. It was actually out there, hanging in the space between your two overheating bodies. Even just hearing him speak those words aloud you felt a microsecond of repose, only to bring the intensity of sensation all crashing down on you once more. It was too much to bear, you sunk to the ground. You thought you might vomit, or faint, not from repulsion, obviously not, just from the overwhelming feeling of your own blood pulsing against your ears. You keeled over onto your knees, trying to fight your body. 

Kishibe’s bad knee cracked as he crouched down to your level, one tentative hand finding the space between your shoulder blades. You moaned at the firm, warm pressure of him touching you. A broken, weak moan. One that sent him ailing once again. 

“It’s some kind of aphrodisiac…”His hand moved up and down the line of your spine, not daring too low, or too high, staying contained in the benign, sexless rectangle of your shoulders, “But a strong one.”

You nodded, his words sounded like you were underwater, you could barely make them out, the sensation of his hand on you was too distracting. 

“So what? Is it some kind of trap? A distraction?” You pled. 

“Maybe.” Kishibe’s hand stilled, he moved to sit beside you, no longer able to keep himself on his knees, “pretty good defense. Keep your opponent…” his eyes flicked down the front of your shirt, then back out quickly, “occupied. Then attack.”

Your eyes flashed open, hoping to find his face again,“So we have to move. We can’t stay here.” 

“Can you even stand?” Kishibe avoided your eyes, leaning his head back to the night side, showing you the full length of the side of his neck. 

Drool fell from your lips, you could feel the sensation of his stubble against your tongue, the thin skin under your teeth, the muscles against your lips. Your pussy pulsed again, reminding you of the cause of your wandering mind. You looked down where your spit had pooled and saw it was laced with blood. Not a lot, but more than none. Whatever this was, it was doing something to you internally. Something bad. Kishibe’s hand, once on your back, gripped the back of your neck and turned you to face him. His face was deadly serious. A blood vessel had popped in his left eye, a small red moon surrounding the dark planet. This wasn’t some avoidable awkwardness, or some traversable terrain with no consequences, this was becoming life or death.

“Do you trust me?” He had brought your face so close to his own, you could smell the tobacco on his breath, the whiskey, something sweeter. 

“Yes. Kishibe please…make it stop.” You finally begged. 

He kissed you hard, the traces of blood in your mouth invading his own. You pulled him in by his shirt, scooting yourself closer to him, the gravel underneath you digging in its teeth, making holes in your pants. He was already undoing the fly of your pants when you took your first breath. You wanted to feel him, his body, his heat, anything, you ripped through his buttons, a few of the poor bastards making their new homes amongst the garbage surrounding you. If your younger self could see you now, in the arms of your mentor, surrounded by filth and death, about to cross every boundary she knew kept you apart, she would…honestly, you probably would be elated. Pervert. 

“Open your mouth more.” Kishibe bossed. 

He spoke in sharp, clear commands when you would work together, but still you were shocked his voice in this situation would feel so familiar. You followed suit and obeyed, opening wider, welcoming in his tongue. You grabbed at his chest, his side, his back; you didn't hesitate before digging your fingers into his skin, feeling the muscle, the skin. You pulled him closer. He had one arm wrapped around your back, the other finally unfastened your pants, making no delay in slipping two of his thick fingers inside and under your panties. 

“Oh….. fuck…” He shuddered, pulling off your lips, his head and eyes rolling back in time. 

You were so wet, if your pants had been any color other than jet black, how wet you had become would be so visible it would look as though you were incontinent. He felt your sticky arousal coat his fingers. Slipping into the wrinkles of his knuckles, where the skin made room for joints to move, part of him hoped they would never leave. He hadn’t even thought about how careful he should be with you. You were strong, an excellent hunter, great speed, regularly taking devils and beasts twice your size down in a single afternoon. But this was different,he knew that and he still couldn’t stop himself from plunging both his middle and ring fingers into you hard. You cried out, your recent break in sexual contact leaving you unprepared for such immediate insertion. In a flash the hand that had held you up by your back had dropped you, and now covered your mouth, pressing you against the pavement. Your eyes flew open, pebbles and debris digging into your back. But nothing was worth feeling except for him inside of you. His thumb brushed against your clit and your hips jerked up. He fed your pussy his fingers again and again, keeping a steady pace. You pushed your pussy harder against his hand, grinding your clit against his palm. 

“Fuuuuuuuck, Kishibe.” You crooned against his hand.

“That’s it baby, open up.” He spread his fingers inside of you, “I don’t want to hurt you.” 

You opened your eyes, surprised at the affectionate name, but were stopped when you found him watching the place where his fingers entered you. After a moment of blissful watching he looked back up to you, his mouth hung open in a permanent state of breathlessness. His tie hung loose but still knotted around his neck, his lips were already swollen. Pink and perfect, your spit and his combined reflecting the moonlight back at you like a blue light.  You pulled him down to kiss you again, this time moving your tongue into his mouth. With your free hand you unbutton your own shirt more, stopping at your navel when you feel pressure start to build behind your womb. You tried to pull off his lips to warn him what was to come, but he held you in place. 

You came with no warning, quicker than you may ever have, a hearty whine ripping from your throat. He gasped, looking down again and seeing your cum trickling down his wrist. He looked back up to your eyes, a smile on the corners of  his open mouth. Before you could speak he kissed you again, moving his body over yours, before pulling you up to your feet. Your legs shook like a foal, but you didn’t need to count on them because Kishibe turned you and pressed you against the brick closest to you. The corners of the grout lines dug into the skin of your chest and your face. Kishibe’s lips had moved to your neck, teeth and tongue joining to worship your skin. One hand dug its nails into the brick in front of you, the other reached backwards to try and touch him. You felt the fabric of his shirt, hanging loose to one side, you felt part of his belt, he wouldn’t stop fucking moving. 

“I want to touch you, stop.” You wanted to sound stern, but his lips behind your ear made you whimper your instructions, “oh kishi…”

Your eyes rolled back and you pressed yourself against the wall harder, sticking your ass out. Kishibe blindly found your hand between your bodies and guided it to the front of his slacks. You gasped, he moaned into your neck. 

Finally. 

Your hand mapped his length, and his…girth. It wasn’t the longest dick you had ever encountered, but jesus christ it was the thickest. That was why he had said he didn't want to hurt you, you realized. This thing could do some real damage. You could feel his heartbeat through his pants, he shuddered against you, pressing you into the wall further, as your hand found the end, circling over the tip of his cock. 

“You’re not going to make me cum in my pants like some teenager.” He gripped your hair.

You gasped at how rough he was being. You usually had to beg for this kind of treatment. His breath was hot and damp on your neck, you circled his wet tip again. 

“You sure about that?” 

He released your hair to rip your pants off your hips, down to your knees, “Positive.” 

His belt jingled and you heard the unzip of his fly, a moment later you felt the engorged tip pressing between your legs. Fear flashed through your body, making you gasp again, tears slipped from your waterline, but your body pushed your ass further into him, sliding his cock further, so it was nestled perfectly against your folds. You shivered, the anticipation of the real point of no return, coning at you fast. You whimpered out a small, scared cry. 

“Please Kishibe, please…” you begged, “be gentle with me.” 

Kishibe stopped, the pulse in his heart lurching at how pitiful you sounded. A twinge of…maybe remorse(?) causing hesitation. He never intended for this to happen like this. You didn’t deserve to be rushed through fucking in some back alley, just steps away from an open metropolis. You deserved a bed, and privacy, and time. He would be lying to himself if he had never imagined a night with you. He knew better, he knew the nights he had spent alone, imagining just how to draw out these exact sounds from you. How he would find you alone at the bar, after some not technically mandatory, but certainly expected social time with coworkers, bring you back home and finally have you all to himself. He would indulge himself in fantasies of your body, how it would feel under him, how your hips would strain to straddle his lap, how your breasts would look freed from all bindings, no clothing to keep him from the decadence of your figure. He would have been kinder, he hoped at least.  This wasn’t anything like he had imagined. Maybe it was loss that pulled at him now. Mourning for the first night he hadn’t even realized he valued so heavily. He chose then that, despite the circumstances, and despite his arousal plagued mind, he would try his hardest to give you something closer to what you deserved. What he deserved. 

Despite the burning desire taking over his body, he slowed, moving your hair off your neck, laying tender kisses among the still indented bite marks and blooming bruises he had already laid. 

“I’ll be gentle. I promise, I’m going to take it away, okay?” He didn’t have to turn your face this time, you craned your neck to meet his lips again. 

This kiss felt different, kinder, more unified. But the bliss was supreme only momentarily, when he finally began to enter you it was immediately surpassed. You weren’t sure if it was the effects of the aphrodisiac or if it was just him, but the pleasure overwhelmed your every sense. The moon bloomed, taking your vision over completely, pleasure blinding you. A long, howling moan was released into the night sky. It was unclear who sounded it, but it didn't matter. He pushed further into you, until he was fully inside, his hips flush with your ass. You were panting, gasping, no longer kissing him, desperately trying to relax to allow him inside of you, you were gripping him too tight, he couldn’t move. 

Kishibe was struggling, you had a hold on him so tight, too tight. His back was hunched at an odd angle because of his height, he couldn't have access to your neck or lips and stand up straight. He couldn’t stay immobile like this, the strain was already becoming too much. 

“I’m sorry, I have to.” He grunted, pulling his hips back, forcing your muscles to let him go. 

Your body shook, choppy whines came from you as he thrust into you again. You were gripping the wall as hard as you could, digging your nails into any textural abnormality you could find. Your cheek stung against the brick as your face scraped against its rough surface. 

“I know. I know. Breathe, baby, breathe.” Kishibe couldn't stop his hips, which carried on finding their pace, but he tried to give you soothing words to take some of the pain away. 

 His increasingly powerful thrusts made it hard to get a steady breath, but you focused on breathing deep and not holding it or hyperventilating. After a few deep breaths, you could feel your pelvic muscles softening, the lubrication of your previous orgasm, the mess of arousal brought about by the Devil’s poison, and his pre cum soothing the stretch. The pain wasn’t gone, but it was being overshadowed by the bliss of being full of him. You weren’t even out of your clothes, your pants were around your knees, your shirt hadn’t even been unbuttoned completely, the fabric of your bra caught on the texture of the brick, your jacket had been discarded…somewhere… but it didn't matter. You were full of cock, his cock, and suddenly it was clearer to you than ever before that this was where you belonged, wet and oozing, limp and drooling, ready for him to use you how he pleased.

Once you had relaxed, Kishibe could finally get some real rhythm going, finding his hips pistoning on instinct rather than by his input. The friction, the wetness, the sweat, the smell, the sound, he was hypnotized. He no longer cared about a passerby hearing you, or if the real Devil was waiting in the shadows to ambush you, he didn’t care about anything. Anything except feeling your pussy around him every second for the rest of his life. He needed this, he needed you. He had always needed you. He bit hard on the back of your shirt collar, trying to stop the moans and grunts from escaping him. His last fuck had been some random pickup two weeks ago, she was fine, sexy, didn’t ask a lot of questions, and that was pretty much all of his criteria these days. But sex with her felt like a sneeze compared to this. He began to wonder if he was actually a virgin all the time, and this was what sex actually was.

“Harder Kishi, harder….please.” you begged, deepening the arch in your back, begging for his fat tip to kiss the wall of your cervix. 

You weren’t as tense now, still tight, but not dangerously so, he could go full force and not hurt you, and fuck was he ready to. Kishibe bent you further, one hand on your hip, the other on the back of your head. He pulled all the way back so that just the very tip was pressed against your hole. In the same moment, he gripped your hair, pulled your head off the wall and snapped his hips forward, your hands kept your shoulders from hitting the wall too hard, his hold on your hair kept your face safe. But nothing could have prepared you for the burst of pain/pleasure that filled your nervous system. Without any time to prepare, he repeated this action. He found a new rhythm, brutal and fast. Out to the tip, in to the base. You didn't even realize the volume of the choked cries you were letting out until his hand found its way to your mouth again. One finger pulling at the corner of your mouth, making your gag. 

“Shut up.” His stern voice was back, the gentility had vacated when he felt himself bottom out,“you want anyone off the street to come back here and see you like this?”

Both you and he didn’t miss the way his hypothetical made your pussy clench around him. 

“Or maybe you would?” He snapped his hips again, deeper, sending you gasping, “You want everyone to see what a slut you are, huh?”

He was a man possessed, nothing that came out of his mouth had crossed his mind before, and yet it felt truer than saying his own name. He continued:

“Everyone should see me fucking you, so they know. Your perfect little hole is all for me. I can’t believe you had this the whole time and you kept it from me.” He brought his hand down on your right ass cheek, “How dare you. This pussy was made for me.” another spank, “This pussy belongs to me, understand. Your body belongs to me.” he spanked you again, on the same exact spot. 

You screamed at the third spank, the skin was so hot, you could already feel it welting. Your wetness was spilling down your legs, his harsh hands and possessive words making you wetter with every syllable.  

Another spank came, “Say it. Who does this pussy belong to?”

“You!”

A kind rub over your cheek brought down your defense, before he spanked again, even his own palm starting to sting, “and who does your body belong to?”

You cried out again, his hips relentless as he tortured you, “You! Kishibe, you!” 

“Mmm, good.” He smoothed a hand over your wounded cheek, only to dig his nails into the sensitive meat, lean into your ear and speak again, “and who do you belong to?”

“You! Kishibe you, I belong to you.”

He dug his nails in harder, “Who?”

“You Kishibe, you!” You tried again, only to see him raise his hand out of the corner of your eye. 

“Captain!” You tried again. 

The hand cracked against your skin, “Wrong again.”

Your legs were barely hanging on, the assault on your ass making your knees shake and your arms scrape down the wall.

“Who am I?”

It hit you. 

“Master.” You sighed out, knowing you had gotten it, the name he felt most suited him when he had this much power over someone, “I belong to you, master.” 

Pride blossomed in his chest, he brought a non threatening hand down across your aching backside, petting your hip softly, feeling the down hairs at the base of your pelvis grow coarser as he parted your center, his middle finger finding your clit. 

“That’s right, baby. Good.” He circled your twitching clitoris. 

Your legs shook harder, ‘Master…master I can’t I ca--”

But you did, you came again, spasming around his cock, which he buried deep inside of you for you to ride out your climax, still petting at your clit. He continued until you gathered the strength to pull his hand away. 

“awh..”He cooed in your ear, “can’t take it anymore, can you?” 

You shook your head. He began moving his hips again, pumping into you again and again, “Poor girl, can’t keep up with the old man, huh?” 

These taunts seemed not of his own creation, but he still couldn't stop them.

“How long have you dreamt of this? Years? And look at yourself, was this what you imagined? Pants around your ankles, surrounded by trash, falling to pieces after barely getting started?” He mocked, “How disappointing, all that time to prepare and still you can barely keep up. Looks like I got to you too late.” 

But that was when you heard it. He heard it. The words were not his own. The voice, it was covered, influenced…filtered in some way. Coming from his desperate mouth, but not his. He noticed it too. It was getting closer, the real Lust Devil, not one of its parts. There was no telling how little time you would have before its arrival. He stilled his hips, against every screaming cell in his body that wanted to continue. 

“Stand up.”he ordered, and despite your trembling legs you did, “we have to move now. Break the wires.” 

In a Devil hunting first for you, you pulled up your pants, lamenting the amount of liquid arousal that would now find its home in your panties, and donned your gloves to remove the razor wire from the alley’s opening. Adrenaline and endorphins keeping your hands steady, you felt empowered, more so than you had crumbled on the floor in pain prior to this whole endeavor. Maybe the two orgasms had worked some of the effects to the back of your mind, hitting snooze on the incline, however brief. Your watch read 7:58 pm. 

“Should we—?” You started, feeling like maybe this was your chance to take this thing down for real. 

Kishibe, who had now tucked himself back safely inside his slacks, still achingly hard, rushed past you, grabbing your hand and turning the corner towards the exit. 

“Nope. We are in no condition to fight.” He pulled you along, you could barely keep up with his leggy gait. 

“But I feel like—…”

“Fine! I’m in no condition to fight. Come on.” He tugged you further towards the street. 

You kept your eyes on his back, the street lights in front of him giving him a corona of light, making him seem deific. You heard scuttling, shambling behind you, growing closer. The voice returned, or maybe it had always been there? But now you heard your own voice, and Kishibe’s, your pants and grunts together, his nasty taunts, your pleading begs. You had joined whatever collection this thing was creating. You didn’t dare look back. You knew about Sodom and Gomorrah, about Orpheus and Eurydice, you knew better than to look back when you were so close to salvation. 

Kishibe pulled you both out of the line of the alley, and you both burst into the night street. He stopped a few steps from the alley’s entrance, in the open light of the street, you bumped into his back, but he was quick to physically guide you to his side instead, keeping one arm around you, still desperate to have you close. The beast didn’t venture into the light. It stayed eight or so yards from the entrance, away from prying eyes. It made no sound or retreat, but it made no charge either. And that was good enough for Kishibe. He tugged you along, pulling you past the much smaller crowd, and back in the direction of the car. The ache was building again inside of you, how could it be asking more from you already. He hadn’t even cum once yet, by your own mental calculations he was probably running on pure adrenaline. 

“Kishi?” Your voice was still hoarse. 

He kept walking. 

“Kishi, baby?” You tried again, slowing your pace just slightly. 

He tugged you further, still not waiting for your question. 

“Kishibe, what’s the plan?” You got tired of waiting for his permission, you stopped, “you can’t drive like this, I can’t either. It's at least thirty minutes back to the office, and I don’t think we can do much there!”

“Fuck!” He stopped and turned to face you, coming close, his voice threatening, “I’ll fuck you right here if we don’t find somewhere else. 

His other eye had a small hemorrhaged vessel as well. Two identical spots in either eye. Your heart burned at the sight, at his desperation. He needed you, he needed you to find somewhere where he could relieve himself, where he could have you at the fullest with no interruption, either from peril or from prying eyes. You flashback through your entrance to the area, what had you passed, what had you seen? There was something, there had to be, or else you wouldn’t feel so sure of it. You just had to remember. Fuck! Your mind was still scrambled. He was growing restless, his grip on your arm growing tighter and tighter. He inched closer and closer, you became aware of the passersby, witnessing you bruised and scratched in the grip of a much larger, desperate man. It wasn’t a good look. 

Wait..

“A love hotel! We passed one on the way here! It had a lit up sign in the front window!” You finally remembered. It couldn’t have been more than a block away. 

He groaned, picturing the check in process and the seedy room,. But fuck, if he was ever desperate, it was now. 

“Find it.” He ordered, letting you lead the way. 

You took his hand and led him down the sidewalk. You were right, it wasn't even three full blocks away. A tall building, a large neon flower in the window, a white awning hanging above.. 

“Just, don’t talk, okay?” You told him as you walked inside he rolled his eyes but followed you.

A bored looking clerk sat at the desk, he had a pair of bulky headphones plugged into a walkman on his desk. A chime rang out as you entered, but the music must have been too loud, he didn't flinch. He didn't move until you approached the desk. He ripped off his headphones as though you were his boss catching him slacking off, but his frightened eyes grew suspicious as he took in the pair of you. Your shirt was buttoned wrong, your tie was lost somewhere, as was your jacket. Your cheek was bleeding, bruises on your neck unhidden by the haphazard collar. Kishibe looked no better, blood on his shirt, which was missing quite a few buttons, tie still on, but barely, his hair was a mess. His usual stoic scowl had been replaced with a harsh glare trained directly at the clerk, his foot tapping like a caged animal.  

“Excuse me, hello. We would like to check in.” You tried your best to sound casual.

“Um…” The clerk hesitated. 

“We’re…”You thought on your feet and said the first thing that you could think of, “Engaged! We just got engaged, I mean. And our..in laws! Yes, our in-laws are in town and we don't have a lot of privacy and we just want to…celebrate.” 

The clerk eyed you both again, analysing you and Kishibe individually and no doubt trying to parse together how you would fit as a couple. 

“We would like an overnight room.” You continued, trying to remind him of the actual task at hand. 

Kishibe was stunned by your plan, by how bold it was, and how poorly you were pulling it off. You worked at a secret (ish) organization, for fuck’s sake. But he was amused by your efforts, so he doubled down with you. 

He wrapped a big arm around your shoulder, leaning over the desk, “Maybe something with a tub.” 

The clerk nodded, whatever was in front of him was none of his business, he saw plenty of strange pairs come through the lobby. And anywhere there was no way he was getting his ass kicked by this guy at his current pay rate. 

“Yeah…okay,I just need a credit card to put on file.” He finally explained. 

Your wallet was safely tucked in the car, you didn’t have anything. You hadn’t even considered this part, how could you have not thought about this? Kishibe pulled a leather card carrier from his coat pocket, not a credit card but his Public Safety clearance badge and slapped it down on the counter. 

“How’s that card work?” He hissed. 

The clerk scanned it briefly, sighing, probably lamenting the admissions given to government workers and retrieved a key from the corkboard behind him and handed it over. 

“Whatever man, just don't break anything.” He had checked out of the conversation the moment Kishibe had approached, he put his headphone back on, “Fifth floor. Check out is at 10am.” 

Kishibe took the key and his badge and pulled you toward the elevator. 

“Thank you!” You waved to the clerk, just barely getting it out before the elevator doors closed. 

You had half expected Kishibe to pounce on you the moment they did, but he stayed still. Watching the numbers above the door illuminate and dim. 

“So when’s the wedding?” He finally spoke at the illumination of the third floor. 

“Shut up, it got us here, didn’t it?” You laughed. 

“Right, it was your stellar in-law cock block story that got us up here, and not the government issued free pass badge.”, He cracked a smile. 

You both laughed, the chime of the elevator alerted you the doors would open on the fifth floor. The tag on the key was for room 5102, close to the elevator. Kishibe pressed you forward by your waist, leading you out of the elevator and down a few doors to the room. He unlocked the door and you stepped inside. The room was fine, a large king bed placed in front of a boxy, but relatively new tv. A radio clock on one night stand, a lamp on the other. The door shut and locked behind you, Kishibe fasted the chain lock, the dead bolt, and the handle lock, then turned back to you. He saw the abrasion on your cheek, the blood beginning to dry. He took your face in his hands, running his thumb along the outside of it. Guilt pulled at the back of his brain, but fuck he couldnt hold out anymore, he circled his other arm around your back and pulled you in to his mouth. Without the urgency, without the danger, he could kiss you and feel like he earned it. He kissed you deeply, tilting your head back, tasting your mouth, pushing you back toward the bed. You melted in his arms, finally feeling them for how sturdy and safe they could be. Your tongue pushed against his, his hand frond your hair, you found the front of his pants, unbuttoning them quickly. Where his belt had gone was a mystery, but none of your concern. You pushed them off his legs until your knees met the edge of the mattress. You tugged at the rest of your shirt buttons, pulling it off of you and tossing it aside, your tie followed. He finally let you leave his kiss to pull his own shirt over his head and off, his coat seeming to have disappeared. You both shuffled out of your pants and underwear, You reached behind to unclasp your bra, shrugging it down your arms. The process taking only seconds but feeling like a frigid, isolated eternity separated from him. It was like you were magnetized, pulled together by a gravitational force that took everything in you to resist. He stood in front of you, bare, studying your figure, trying to commit every inch of your body to memory. Every freckle, every scar, every bend and shadow of muscle, every fold, everything. He couldn’t believe how lucky he was, to see you in your truest form, wanton and waiting. He thanked whatever evil caused this Devil’s creation, and cursed himself in the same breath for doing so. But trailing his hands up your curves, to take hold of your full, perfect breasts, he found himself brought to his knees before you, a zealot at the altar of you. You let him push you back onto the bed, the cushioned mattress underneath you was nirvana compared to the grit and gravel he had taken you on before. Your legs spread themselves, no longer needing your guidance, no longer held together by your barely removed pants. Kishibe’s wet tongue moved up your leg, he could taste your sweat, and he reveled in it until he found his next vice, your legs were still coated in the arousal that leaked from you, sticking to your skin under your pants and now coating his tongue, destroying his mind. Or what was left of it. 

Tasting you brought him higher and higher, cleaning your soiled thighs, swirling his tongue over the top of your knee, flattening the soft hairs with his tongue, spit laying them flat in his wake. Your hips jerked up as he joined you on the bed, agile body moving between your legs. He pulled your legs further apart, not bothering to look at your face. No, his eyes were fixed on your pussy as you spread open for him. Your perfect, drooly, needy cunt parting itself, drawing him forward. He made no effort to stop the line of saliva that dripped from the corner of his mouth, he didn’t even feel it. He didn’t feel anything, anything except hunger, except want, except need. Perfect folds and layers, ready for him, begging for his touch, you really were made for him. In a single look he forgot every piece of fine art he ever saw, every inch of his earth that any numb skull could have called glorious, he knew glory now. True glory. And he needed it to be his, to claim it for his own. 

Kishibe had moved to his knees, hands firm on your legs to either side of him, hunched over your body, you felt shy under such an intense stare, right to where you were most vulnerable. You reached up and brushed your fingertips over his cheek and back around his ear bringing his attention back to your face. 

“Kishibe…”You moaned in a whisper. 

You looked so desperate underneath him, the pillow lucky to be graced with your hair, him, even luckier to bear witness to such beauty. Your mouth hung open slightly, pupils blown out under heavy lidded eyes. Your breasts rising shakily with panting breaths. 

“Please, I can’t wait anymore, Kishibe please,” You begged, tugging him by his neck, “Fuck me.” 

The jolt that sent through his body could knock out every electrical grid in Japan. He pulls your hips down to him, then lifts them to be level with his own. Holding you up with one hand, his other aligns his cock with the hole he could now picture with perfect clarity. His dark eyes caught yours, he watches them fly open as he penetrates you. Finally able to take you how he needs, he is able to slide into you deliciously, pressing against your g spot. Your back arches up under his hand, but he follows, not able to stand being parted from you. It would take an act of God to remove him, at this point. Your tight walls tremble around him, working their hardest to allow him inside. It was bizarre, impossible, inhuman. You subconsciously press against his stomach. Pushing him away, unable to handle the deluge of pleasure and pressure he is causing.

He grips your hips harder, bruising them, and presses into you more, “where do you think you’re going.” 

You whimper as he presses against your cervix, grabbing at the bed sheets, trying to leverage your hips back, but finding the bed is blocking your escape. And still your legs wrap around his hips, torn between trying to pull him inside further, and trying to free yourself.  One of his rough hands leaves your hip and he takes your hand in his, interlocking your fingers. You melt back down into the bed, giving him the room to pull his hips back. Kishibe leans over you, laying you back on the bed, blocking out the still illuminated overhead light with his shoulder as he thrusts into you again. He squeezes your hand harder with every thrust. His lips find your neck again, your hands wrap around his neck, tangling in his soft, white hair. He fucks into you fast, pushing himself, and your poor body to their limits, you have no choice but to hold on and succumb to the waves of pleasure. 

He kisses you again, lips hot and swollen, “So good.” 

He repeats it like a mantra, again and again as he bottoms out inside and pulls back. He can’t do anything but repeat it. The friction, your lips, finally having you for himself since this whole ordeal began, he can’t last. 

The praise, the feeling of him inside, the relief of a bed under you, the feeling of his pelvis rocking against your clit, it all becomes too much and you feel yourself tighten around him. You know he feels it too because he grips your hand and breaks the kiss to cry out in delicious agony. 

“Don’t--.”Is all he manages to let out before his climax blinds him, the lamp light blooming white and over taking all his senses. 

The obscene sounds he makes and the sight of his pleasure scrunched face push you to follow him, cumming for the third time. 

His cock pulses inside of you, painting your insides with his cum. He feels like it will never end, he doesn’t want it too. Kishibe wants to see your tummy swollen, a trail of cum dripping out from between your legs, your face covered in it, your tongue full of it. He wants you full, inside and out, marked as his, full of him, for all to see. He wants you round and pregnant, showing off everything he has done to you. He wants to see you helpless and bred, full breasts ready to be fed from. 

He’s losing his fucking mind. 

He had never wanted children in his life, he made medically sure of it nearly two decades ago, but right now if he could stitch it back together himself he would. Coming back to himself, he sees you panting below him, and nearly cums again. Your mouth hinges open, and your tongue flops out. 

“Spit.” You huff. 

His face must have betrayed his surprise. 

“Please, I need it, please,” You please, “Spit in my mouth, please, Kishi.” 

He takes your face in his left hand, tilting it back, extending your mouth even more with his thumb on your chin. He lets a full, slow string of saliva fall from his mouth into yours, watching it slip down your tongue. You lap it up eagerly, leaning up to lick some stray fluid off of his chin. Your pussy squeezes him again as you move. You keen back happily, the taste of him in your mouth, and the feeling of him inside of you bringing you a blissful feeling of balance. 

“Nasty girl…”He chides, leaning back onto his knees, watching your eyes flutter closed. 

A smile upturns your perfect lips, “mmmmmhm.”

“I have to pull out now.” He warns, you let out a long, displeased whine as he does. 

Coming down from your own high, you catch your breath on the bed, only reopening your eyes when the bed sinks next to you, you turn your neck to him. His flushed, bruises on his neck, his chest, scratch marks on his arms and chest, the two red bursts in his eyes, you hadn’t realized you were so rough on him. He looked over your figure, seeing the abrasions on your chest from the brick, the marks of his teeth, the bruises his hands left on your body, the cut on your cheek. A Pair. 

You brush a disarranged hair off his temple, gentle fingers feeling the sweat cooling on his brow. 

“How do you feel?” You whispered, voice hoarse. 

He moves onto his back beside you, taking your hand in his, kissing the back, and bringing it down to his chest, over his heart. You could feel the rhythm steadying itself.

“Coming down.” He studies your face, “How do you feel?”

You nodded, “Good, a little sore.” 

“Do you think it’s over?”

You shrugged, “I feel better? Less like I am going to die, which is good.” 

He nodded, his mind was clearing, the virus releasing its hold on him. He tried to remember his usual bedside manner,“You should probably…you know…”

You smiled again, moving carefully to sit up, “I didn’t expect you to be so diligent about UTI avoidance.” 

He leaned up on his elbow, “You don’t know me as well as you think.” 

“I like what I’m learning.” You flirted, standing and walking to the small bathroom. 

Kishibe watched your behind sway as you left him. Once the door was shut behind you, he fell on his back staring up to the ceiling. Everything that had transpired tonight flashed through his mind, his cock had hardly softened but now it ached again. Would this ever be over? And when it did, what would become of you two. The poison still plagued his mind, it was a logical jump to assume it was still affecting you too. He didn’t know how to be around you after this, he couldn’t even begin to picture the logistics of bringing you back to work, seeing you everyday and knowing everything he knew now. He wanted to know what you thought, if you felt differently about him, if this was a bizarre, horrible accident that ruined any kind of real feeling that could have existed between the two of you. He couldn’t bear waiting anymore, he had to be close to you again before this ended. He stood, joints clicking, dick hard, and crossed to the bathroom door. He knocked.

“Yeah?” your voice rang from the other side of the door. 

He hesitated, pressing his forehead against the wood, fighting back the words that were about to come out, “Can I come in?” 

You were silent behind the door for a few seconds, he wasn't sure how he expected you to respond. 

“Sure, it’s unlocked.” Your voice came again. 

He turned the nob and opened the door, you were standing at the sink, cleaning the cut on your cheek. 

“Got lonely in there?” You smiled at him through the mirror, and it warmed his fearful chest.  

Kishibe wrapped his arms around your waist, holding you from behind as you carried on dabbing a cool cloth on your face. He hummed an affirmative response, against your neck, smelling deep the smell of your skin. He occupied himself pressing kisses to your neck and shoulder while you finished. His eyelashes tickled behind your ear and you caught his eyes in the mirror as you giggled. 

“You’re clingier after sex than I expect.”

He kept your gaze in the mirror, “Expected, huh? Thought about this before?” 

Why lie, call it exhaustion, or maybe the poison was still working on you, “Yeah.” 

He didn’t flinch, still looking at you through the glass, “Me too.” he confessed. 

You turned in his hold, the reflection no longer enough of a view for you, you had to look at his face, his real face. 

“So why didn’t we ever…?” 

He shrugged, “Didn’t seem right,” but that wasn’t the full truth, “Didn’t want to lose you.” 

You were touched by his admission, his vulnerability. Certainly the influence of adrenaline crash and hormonal endorphins racing through both of you. You felt your throat tighten, your tear ducts start to burn. Sex always complicated things, especially when jobs and feelings were involved. Depending on how the morning played out, this could be the last time you had the chance to be exposed and alone with him. 

“I don’t want to lose you either.” One hot tear fell from your eye, stinging your freshly cleaned cheek. 

Kishibe wiped the tear away, his face still as unreadable as ever, “then you won't. Not yet.”

“What do you want? From all of this, I mean.” You asked him, not accusation or malice in your voice. 

Kishibe sighed, smoothing your hair and holding your face, “I want to enjoy being here with you, while we work this out of our systems. Tomorrow morning I would like to drive you home, so you can rest. We will file the report, be only as honest as we want to be, give the sample to the lab, clock out, and then figure it out from there.” 

Then he moved his hands down to your shoulders, pulling you even closer and kissing you hard. A kiss that was devoid of the Devil’s influence, no hungry, tasting tongue, no hot, fevered breath.  Just his lips sealed to yours, your body pressed against his, and a promise to try. When he pulled away he spoke again, 

“But right now I want us both to get in that tub.” 

The night didn’t end there, the waves of fervent arousal lapped over both of you again and again, but the tide had gone out. The coast was cleared, leaving a sparkling landscape on which the both of you could relax.

Epilogue

The bath had been the perfect remedy for your bruised and abused body. It soothed Kisibe’s aching joints. He washed and rinsed the debris out of your hair, you cleaned the blood off of his hands and neck. His fingers worked over you, bringing you a slower, gentler climax. Back in the bed, clean and dry, you reciprocated his generosity. Sucking, kissing, swallowing everything he had given to you so brazenly before. Laying together in the dark, sleep was hard to find. Whenever you thought it would overtake you, bringing you back into an embrace to pleasure yourselves and each other. Eventually, morning came. Whether you had woken up to the sunlight, or you were too engaged to realize it had come up, was unclear. 

You left the hotel in the early afternoon, returning to the car which had a citation for exceeding the parking meter. Kishibe drove you back to your apartment, pulling up and parking outside. 

“Okay.” He turned to you, the light of day illuminating complexities that hadn’t yet been considered, “They won't be expecting us back until tomorrow, anyway. So you should try and get some sleep.” 

You nodded, “Yeah. Thanks for the ride.”

“Anytime.” 

“I meant the car.” You teased. 

He chuckled. You didn’t want to get out, you weren’t ready to be done. Tomorrow would mean talking about what happened, reports had to be filed, incident reports, lab tests, possibly declaration of relationship forms. You gnawed on your lip. Kishibe watched you closely, seeing you weigh out each thought, waiting for the perfect way to phrase what you were after. 

You met his eyes, the devious flicker in your eye that he now knew the motivations of intimately shining at him once again,“You wanna come upstairs, take a nap and fool around a little?”

Kishibe sucked in a breath through a sly smile, his exhausted cock already jumping forward at the chance. 

“Absolutely I do.”

Thank you for reading!!! I hope you enjoyed, I really enjoyed writing this piece and I hope that comes through!! Fuck I want this man so bad. literally so bad. Let me know your thoughts, I always love hearing what you do/dont like. Anyway, thanks again! See you next time! - Doodle <3