#Hitachi fittings

[rawabialmahfar]

When it comes to industrial piping and fluid control systems, selecting the right fittings is crucial to ensure efficiency, safety, and longevity. Hitachi fittings are renowned for their high quality, durability, and precision engineering. However, many businesses in Saudi Arabia face challenges in sourcing genuine Hitachi fittings that meet their project requirements. In this blog, we’ll explore the key problems industries face with Hitachi fittings and how choosing a trusted Hitachi fittings supplier in KSA can resolve these issues.

[anbigeneraltradingllc]

Tools and Equipment

Explore a comprehensive range of top-quality tools and equipment at ANBI Solutions. From plumbing supplies to HVAC essentials, find everything you need for your projects. Elevate your craftsmanship with ANBI's reliable tools. Shop now for excellence in every tool and equipment purchase

[householdappliances]

Best Hitachi Window AC raw518kud  - Best Prices

You can check the best hitachi window ac raw518kud at affordable prices. These type of air conditioner automatically adjusts the temperature and fan speed according to the ambient temperature. Visit the website.

[lysenfeu]

141 + Buying/owning sex toys

MDNI 18+ Explicit Content

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

Gaz: An absolute collector, Kyle loves experimenting and trying new things. Over time he’s built a veritable arsenal of options. He's a tad embarrassed to show you his collection when you bring up using toys, but watching your excited response when you dig through his toy box for the first time melts that away quickly. Different shapes and sizes, a dozen vibration settings, even a toy that’s WiFi enabled for long distance. You don't even know where to begin. “Which one should I pick?” Kyle just grins at you. “How about we start simple and work our way up, hm? It's going to be a long night for you sweetheart.”

Ghost: Simon went dead silent the first time you asked him about toys and you weren't sure if he was OK or not. You dropped it until he returned the next week with a formatted list like he was submitting a requisition to the quartermaster. You're stunned but secretly thrilled by his choices. Various restraints (rope, metal cuffs and padded leather), ball gag, riding crop, black studded collar. “For me or for you?” you ask him. He can't look you in the eye when he answers. “Both.”

Soap: He has some odds and ends laying around (cock rings, nipple clamps, a vibrating bullet) but never really thought about getting more until you bring it up. He gets SO excited when you ask to pick out something new together. Acting like a kid in a candy store, sending you links and pictures at random times during the day. Opening your messages becomes a ticking time bomb of getting caught by coworkers with a large neon pink vibrator on your screen, Johnny asking perfunct but filthy questions. “How much can ye handle, hen? Think that'll fit?”

Price: John sticks to the classics. Jute rope, a Hitachi wand, a basic silicone dildo. He'll happily go grab anything you request if needed, but he has his routine down pat and tends to keep it that way. He likes using what he's comfortable and familiar with and can use his toys with wicked precision as a result. He knows the exact angles and pressure needed, the perfect ties that keep you trussed up but comfortable, turning you into a complete mess with only one or two simple accessories needed. “What d'ya think, love? This enough for ya?”

[strangererotica]

ENTER THE DEN OF SIN …👇

art the clown x reader

art was here ✨devil in the details✨the art of fucking ✨miles county haunt✨blood lust ✨santa’s little helper ✨santa’s little helper part 2✨art the clown x reader x hitachi ✨afterkill

cooper adams x reader

headcanons (nsfw) ✨red flags ✨ your attention ✨my other cooper fics are posted on my exclusively cooper/trap blog @thebutchersbitch

steve harrington x reader

lesson learned ✨april showers ✨ delirium ✨ need ✨ dinner for one ✨ drain the snake ✨ baby-making weather ✨ honey ✨ afternoon delight ✨ brunch ✨ after party ✨campsite conception ✨ whiskey with a stranger ✨in the shower with steve ✨kitchen floor ✨toxic ex ✨head✨help with dessert✨nsfw thoughts✨good boy

josef (creep, the creep tapes)

episode one: billie ✨episode two: breakfast✨episode three: the game

james logan howlett (wolverine) x reader

primal fuck love ✨ swallow

joel miller x reader

definitely good ✨hands on✨five more minutes

jim hopper x reader

hopper’s sin part 1 ✨ hopper’s sin part 2 ✨ hopper’s sin part 3 ✨ under cover ✨ love spell part 1 ✨ love spell part 2 ✨ nsfw alphabet (hopper) ✨ dolled up part 1 ✨ enemies to lovers (hopper) ✨ hot lunch ✨dolled up part 2 ✨golden and alive ✨wrong✨backseat, backdoor

william afton / springtrap x reader

sick fuck ✨freak on purpose

steddie x reader

two holes, one dom ✨ wet as sin ✨the devil in hawkins ✨ two towels ✨love and treason (gladiator au)

eddie munson x reader

get off ✨bark ✨ devil eyes ✨ it’s wetter inside ✨motel sex

steve, eddie, hopper x reader

dealer part 1 ✨ dealer part 2

anthony bridgerton x reader

intensity ✨ soaked ✨ soaked part 2

mike schmidt x reader

just tell me when you’ve had enough ✨visiting mike late-night at freddy’s

gator tillman x reader

tight fit

[hiskillingjar]

law, ren, and strade opinions on toys? also what would their favorite be? to use for themselves or on mc:D

good question!

ren 🦊

literally canon confirmed, ren definitely sees toys as allies rather than competition.

they're going to get him where he wants even quicker, why wouldn't he love them!!

he loves everything that helps with overstim and turning your brain into mush, so bullets, vibrators, a hitachi wand, whatever packs the biggest punch!

mans probably has an obscene amount of toys. like. obscene. laugable amount of toys.

he definitley likes to play with MC the most, but he's not above holding a vibrator to his dick and fucking a fleshlight. why wouldn't he!

law 🥀

law doesn't really commit themselves (or a hypothetical MC) to uh. feeling good

so they probably don't own anything.

you're a single "guy" who dosn't like intimacy and is actively isolating themselves? why would they own anything?

hypothetically though, probably just a fleshlight.

they'd probably break a few, finding one that their hog will fit into

(i do in fact follow a porn star who breaks their fleshlights constantly and it's very hot)

strade 🔨

we love a traditional man

as opposed to ren, strade would sort of see a toy as competition

not in a way that he's insecure about it though. more he'll kind of rub it in your face and tease you about it

"oh i'm not enough for you, is that it? you're greedy enough to need a toy just to get off. i'll have to prove you wrong then, won't i?"

and like. if he DID need something else to finish the job, he might just rope ren into doing it. he's a young guy so he'll probably have PLENTY of energy to satisfy you <3

and why would he own a fleshlight when he has two perfectly (un)willing toys to use as he pleases?

i mean that's pretty hot right? no need for anything else when he has all he needs with you <3

[subbiehoney]

Bio

I go by Honey

I'm 34

Pansexual

Nonbinary (ftm) he/they

I AM NOT A GIRL,

Please don't call me a girl or sissy

I don't want to argue this and blocking will happen if you come at me with transphobia.

Yes, I have posted a lot of t1t content. But I have now had top surgery. If you message me for the sole reason of getting more of that content, I'm sorry you're out of luck.

Also I started this account when I had permission for an open marriage. I no longer have that, so I'm now monogamous whether I like it or not.

That being said,

I'm a sub and into a lot of fun things :)

MINORS DO NOT INTERACT

Transphobes, homophobes, racists, and ableists, do not interact!

This is an 18+ blog exclusively!

Kinks:

doms, (especially pleasure doms),

breath play,

pinning,

bondage,

biting,

aftercare,

forced orgasm,

forced toys,

hair pulling,

overstimulation!!!!

bound to fucking machines or vibrators,

slave training,

orgasm punishment, needing permission to cum,

getting shared with a group (gangbangs),

tentacles

hot wax,

crotch rope,

spit roast,

forced to ride a dildo,

crops and whips,

In Public secret vibrator

Cockwarming dildos

Soft limit: I have found I don't really like much degradation without praise. It's not a hard limit but I'm probably not getting anything out of it.

Limits: age play, piss, scat, vomit , Incest including feuxcest, tickling, bestiality, detrans and transphobia, anything physically dirty like toilet seats, fat phobia or any weight sort of insults, anything that will make me risk my marriage

Toys available:

Clothespins (plastic and wooden)

Binder clips

Nipple clamps with weights and chain

Clover clamps with chain

Spring loaded clamps

5 of the 5 Oz weights to add to the chain of clamps

5 in double knotted dildo (suction cup)

6 inch knotted and textured dildo

9 inch suction

5 inch attachment for massage gun

Hitachi wand

Mini wand (otw)

Suction vibe (otw)

Bullet (need to find the charger though)

G spot vibe with clit suction (broken, a new one otw)

App controlled egg vibrator

App controlled thrusting small dildo

Anal hook with handle

Anal dilating toy (can't fit it yet)

Large glass dildo for anal

[sakanoshitaa]

By Your Side

Synopsis: timeskip!Aone Takanobu x reader. Aone needs to make it home to you to watch Team Japan take on Team Argentina in the Olympics, but the universe has other plans! 

WC: ~1.8k

Warnings: Fluff!!! Food is mentioned but not central to the story. Gender neutral reader, their hands are briefly described. One reference to an irl man

Notes: This is a very belated piece for @tetzoro’s Olympics Collab! I am sooo sorry this is so late (,,>﹏<,,) … Banners by @/cafekitsune

Despite it only being 11 am, the July sun beats down oppressively as Aone steps outside to haul another two bags of concrete to the threshold of the framed apartment building. He’s been at work for four hours already, and when he glances at the cloudless sky, he sighs. No respite in sight. Not for another five hours—when he gets to go home to you, sequestered away in frigid air conditioning all day long.

He approaches the shell of the building and deposits the bagged concrete next to eight others. Standing up, he gazes down at his palms, hands large with wide fingers and thick calloused skin. He smiles to himself thinking about yours: palm to palm your fingers aren���t much shorter, but your hands are much more elegant: narrower fingers, softer skin. 

Turning around, he heads back to the box truck to restock, hauling two 25-kg bags at a time. Humidity is thick against his skin, drenching him in sweat that gives little relief. Normally he handles tasks that require more skilled labor. But, concrete is heavy and everyone on site knows he’s pure strength (hauling twice as much as Sakunami), so he agreed to lend a hand. Stoic as ever despite the discomfort, he wipes his brow on the hem of his t-shirt as he drops this round of concrete mix. 

As he returns to the truck, his mind wanders to you again, directing his thoughts away from the heat. He reminds himself he has to work efficiently today in order to leave early—he has to get home to you. He made a promise, never something to be taken lightly. Luckily, he was able to arrange with his supervisor to leave a little early today, in order to make it home by 4 pm. 

The day drags on under the searing sun, abruptly interrupted by a scraping noise that emanates from below the mini excavator, followed by a pop and a hiss. Despite being across the job site, Aone immediately starts running over with an idea of what just happened. The newest contractor on their team, operating the Hitachi, had ruptured the water line leading into the apartment building. The organic, metallic smell of wet dirt fills his sinuses as he drops to his knees to crank the shutoff valve closed. 

His lunch feels shallow in his stomach as a wave of dread washes over him. He knows it typically takes four hours, minimum, to repair a service line break. It’s work that would need to be done before he leaves the site, yet he’s supposed to, no needs to leave in just three hours.

Wiping his brow, his focus narrows as he starts to work on the repair. After having his colleagues dig a trench around the broken section for better access, he begins to saw. Aone is never one to get frantic, but he is a little frazzled at the thought of being late to your date. Unnoticeable to anyone except himself, his hands tremble, just barely. Luckily muscle memory takes over: he cuts and cleans the pipe, installs a new fitting, and checks his work. 

Striding across to the site supervisor, he gently places his hand on his shoulder to wordlessly beckon him over. After making sure the shutoff valve has been reopened, his supervisor inspects the repair, before declaring, “Nice work. You’re free to go,” with a soft, knowing smile. Aone bows, then wastes no time in gathering his things, waving to everyone else, and marching off. 

He squeezes himself into the driver’s seat of his Daihatsu Hijet van and putts away towards your apartment. You always got a kick out of seeing him in his tiny van, but it was a practical choice. It allowed him to haul tools and materials, but not struggle with parking like he would with a full-size pickup. 

Arriving at his destination, he unfolds himself from the van, stretching out to his full 1.93 m self. Typically a little self-conscious, this afternoon a determined Aone is less aware of the weight of his steps and expression on his face. He struts down the sidewalk, oblivious as people give him an even wider berth than usual.

He ducks as he crosses the threshold into your favorite takeout place, a family-owned restaurant a short walk from home. The owner greets him, and as Aone bows in return, she rattles off your usual order in the form of a question. He meets her eyes with a single nod as he pulls out his wallet to pay. He knew you had called in an order earlier in the afternoon, and given that this order includes your two favorites, nasu dengaku and veggie gyoza, he knew it must be yours. “Thank you Misaki-san,” he says, nearly a whisper, as she places the bag of food into his hands. 

Walking past his van and nearing the apartment, he notices with a frown that because he was late, the food isn’t quite as warm as usual. He shakes his head, ridding it of the thought of the burst pipe before reaching for his keys, dangling from a carabiner attached to his front right belt loop. As soon as he opens the door, the familiar smell of home washes over him, and he’s greeted by the sight of your radiant smile.

“Welcome home sweetheart!” you exclaim, having logged off of your work laptop early and burrowed into a pile of blankets on the couch. The TV murmurs behind you, interrupted by your silhouette, already on the channel set to air the match. Aone gently sets the food down on the coffee table in front of you, and leans in to give you a quick peck. Digging in his pocket, he produces his phone to check the time: 3:55 pm. 

He places a firm hand on your shoulder as he leans in again. “Gonna rinse off real quick,” he sighs into your ear, kissing your cheek in the process. You respond, “Sounds good sweetie,” as you look up at him through your lashes, giving him a small smile and nod. With a contented sigh, he takes one last long look at you, relishing in the comfort of being home—with you—before he strides down the hall towards the bathroom. 

Faintly, you hear the shower turn on, but it quickly blends into background noise as your focus returns to the broadcast. After the conclusion of the previous event, the channel starts airing highlight reels from Team Japan’s previous match against Italy. Despite having grown up playing the sport yourself, you’re still enraptured by the sheer athleticism and talent of the men on your screen. Their movements are so familiar, yet so fluid and exaggerated, it’s like poetry in motion. 

You’re so enthralled that you don’t realize Aone is out of the shower until he pads his way around the corner of the couch and into your peripheral vision. Donning one of his many pairs of teal athletic shorts, a white t-shirt, and white crew socks, he slowly lowers himself down next to you on the couch. Quietly, the national anthem plays in the background, familiar faces lined up on the screen. 

Shifting your body towards him, your eyes meet, and an unspoken exchange takes place. He reaches forward to remove the food containers from the bag, opening them and placing them on the table. He knows to put the nasu dengaku in front of you. After you unravel your arms from the nest of blankets, he places a pair of chopsticks into your hand. “Eat,” he says gently, handing you one of the appetizers. 

You gaze at him with a smile, warmth spreading into your belly, as you place a piece of agedashi tofu in your mouth. The tips of his ears pinken in the slightest before the broadcast grabs the attention of you both. 

Before you had met Aone and his friends, you had no idea how small the world of volleyball really was. Sure, you had played as a teen, but attending a rural high school meant that your weak team never made it past the first round of prefectural qualifiers. He tangentially knew a good portion of the team from his high school days, and had regularly played against several of the members. He and Hinata even continue to exchange texts a few times a year. 

Your eyes are glued to the screen as the camera zooms in on who you know as Tsukki, conspicuously dressed in all black, having a conversation with Yamaguchi, wearing a Japan jersey. As the shot zooms in closer, it’s evident that Tsukki knows what’s happening. He locks eyes with the camera with annoyance, looking exasperated and a little disgusted.

There was nothing he resented more than the spotlight, and yet the cameras always seemed determined to seek him out. Tobias, a German national team member, had spent several seasons on MSBY. Through Hinata, he met and started dating Tsukki, and after the press caught wind, Tsukki became a frequent target at matches. 

Aone lets out a small huff of laughter after the director finally relents and the shot switches to an overview of the court. You curl up into him, placing your knees onto his lap, and he wraps his arm around your shoulders to pull you even closer. As the broadcast switches to a commercial break, you angle your head to look into his eyes, unable to stop a grin from spreading across your face. A pale pink has already settled across his cheeks when he smiles back at you. 

He wraps his other arm around you pulling you close, and murmurs in your ear, “Missed you.” 

“I missed you too, ‘Nobu. Glad you were able to make it home in time for the match.”

“Had to make it home for you, I made a promise.”

You squeeze his arm in response, giving him another saccharine look as player introductions start. Familiar faces flash across the screen: first Tobias, then Kageyama, Bokuto, Hyakuzawa, Hinata, Sakusa. Bringing a piece of eggplant to your mouth, nestled into the warmth at your side, you settle in. The match ahead is sure to entertaining and hard fought, and you’re glad you get to watch it with your favorite person at your side.

✧ Bonus ���

After Japan wins a tight first set 29-27, the broadcast switches to a view of the raucous home crowd. The camera pans for a moment, then zooms in on a couple. They stand with arms around each other and they’re cheering loudly—the man looks a little rabid with excitement.

“And there’s Kuroo Tetsuro, recently promoted to Chief of Marketing for JVA! And of course, by his side, is his lovely wife Aims!” the commentator explains. Recognition flashes across Kuroo’s upturned face as he sees he’s on the jumbotron, then the next moment he has his lips squished against Aims’s cheek. Flustered, she pushes on his chest and he separates himself with a huff before smirking directly at the camera.

Closing notes: Thank you so much for reading!! I would love to hear your thoughts, any interactions are much appreciated :3 

If you aren’t familiar with Tobias Krick, he’s a current player on Germany’s national team. This summer, a video was making the rounds where he talks about how much he likes Haikyuu… he says Tsukki is his favorite player and shows off a plushie of him that he carries around. Idk I think Tsukki would hate it and I want to torture him so in this world they are dating! Hope you enjoy that lore

[sirthisisa-wendys]

so faux sympathy is like them pretending to be nice to you? In a sexual way it could be them saying "shh, shh, shh it'll be fine baby" while simultaneously edging you. its pretending to be nice (with words) but is actually vv mean (with actions)

GOTCHA

OG Black Dragons it is!

Solicitudes: Keizo Arashi/Takeomi Akashi/Wakasa Imaushi/ Shinichiro Sano x Fem!Reader

wc: 1.3k

tw: forced orgasms, tight fits, edging, crying, dacryphilia, just a bunch of smut, alright?

masterlist

Keizo Arashi - "Stuffed Full"

"Please, please, please..." Keizo's fingers swipe at your red cheeks, praying no wetness would find the soft skin as he presses into your pussy. "Please, big daddy, please, please."

"What're you begging for, baby?" he wonders, wrapping his arms around you and holding you against his chest. "Need me to stop?"

"Need to go slow..."

"Oh, you can take it," Keizo hums, kissing the top of your head as he moves inside of you. "You always do so well."

"Big daddy," you moan a little louder, your voice vibrating against his chest. "Big daddy, your dick is--"

"It's okay," he urges you, stroking your hair and finding a pleasurable rhythm to fuck into you from below. You're flattened against his chest, but your hips are bouncing against his. The sounds your pussy is making drive him wild, and your expression is one of being lost, one of being absolutely and utterly in space. "I've got you, babe."

"You..."

"Mmhmm," he whispers, moving his hands to grip your hips so he has more control. "Let me handle this. You just lay right here so I can fuck you back to sleep, yeah? Let big daddy do this for you."

You nod as if you're in a trance, and Keizo leans his head back onto the pillows, closes his eyes, and continues fucking you so he can join you in that same trance.

Takeomi Akashi - "Edged to The Brink"

"You can take one more, can't you?"

Your blindfold is soaked with tears. Takeomi holds your legs apart with his hands, and his cock dangles dangerously close to your entrance. It's already covered in your slick, drenched to hell with your juices, but not your cum. Not yet.

"'M sorry, Omi; I'm sorry!" Takeomi clicks his tongue and shakes his head, looking down at your face with a hazy sense of dominance. He runs a finger from your quivering lips to your chest, circles each nipple, then eases right back into you. You both hiss out a long breath, and Takeomi begins his work again, bringing you to the edge of your sanity.

Just like you'd done to him so many times before this with your crazy cheating scandals and absurd antics.

"I'm such a bad guy for making you cry, huh?" You fight the urge to nod your head; Takeomi can see it in the way your neck stiffens. "What's a girl to do when Big Bad Omi edges her like this?" Your mouth opens, but Takeomi shushes you, placing a single finger on your lips. "Not fair, is it?"

"Not fair," you echo, trying to catch your breath as he picks up his speed. Takeomi's not one for revenge. Usually. But tonight, you'd come back to him with your tail between your legs and a long list of things you would and wouldn't do anymore. So he had to test you.

It was only right.

"You'll earn your orgasms from now on," Takeomi bites out, his green eyes squinting at your pitiful form on his bed. "Understand?"

"Yes," you whimper. "I understand." Takeomi's scar itches, but he ignores it in favor of feeling your cunt squeeze around him.

"I'll edge you to hell and back if you think I'm kidding."

"I'll be good, I promise." Your breathy moans make Takeomi want to cum in you right then and there. But you'd have to earn that back, too.

You tense up, right on the edge of another orgasm... but Takeomi pulls out, and fists himself to completion all over your stomach. You cry out in dismay, but he just grunts and finishes, then leaves the bed.

"You want to be my girl? Then be my girl."

Wakasa Imaushi - "Overstimulated"

"I can't..."

"Of course, you can, baby..." Wakasa hovers over you, holding the Hitachi wand right against your clit. "You're doing so good for me. I just need one more orgasm so you're nice and wet."

"Can't," you cry out, tears threatening to push past your eyelids. It's not that you don't want to cum. Waka knows this. But he needs you soaking wet so he can pump you full of his cum tonight. He's a man on a mission - and your satisfaction is his goal.

"You poor thing," he sighs, turning up the speed on the wand. "You've done it before for me, baby girl. Do you need some more help?" You squirm underneath his guidance, your fingers clasping for something that he can give you, something to touch, but landing on nothing but air.

Your hands - tied above your head - wriggle and flail about as Wakasa smirks, his unbound hair flowing around his shoulders and tickling your skin.

"You're doing great, baby girl. Daddy just needs one more..."

Your choked cry makes Waka hard as fuck, but he simply palms himself through his trousers as you seek the final thread of release. You're struggling, but that doesn't mean Waka will leave you out to dry.

No, no.

His hand moves from his pants to your breast, and with deft fingers, Waka tweaks your nipple hard enough to make you cry out in shock but not in pain. You jerk once, and Waka knows you've found it. The mystical cord that connects you to your impending orgasm makes his own orgasm that much closer, and you work your hips against the vibrator as if to bring yourself closer to the edge.

"That's it," Waka murmurs, practically salivating at the sight of you working so hard to cum. "Look at you, doing your best."

When the orgasm is ripped from you for the fourth time, Wakasa tosses the vibrator aside and forces his pants off his hips eagerly. He needs to be inside of you now.

"Now, it's my turn," he huffs, fisting his cock right as he sinks into oblivion.

Shinichiro Sano - "Slow Down"

It feels like Shinichiro had waited all of his life for you. Marriage had always been the end goal. While that didn't mean you'd stay together forever, there was no way Shin would go back to his twenty rejections, not after being in heaven with you nearly every day.

Shin's hips stutter against yours, and he feels his release dangle in front of him like a carrot. He indeed enjoys cumming as much as he can, but the only thing that could encourage his own release is yours.

"Shin," you whine, reaching back to grab his wrist. Your fingers wrap around his bones with care, even though you're shaking and shivering and doing all of the right things. His eyes flutter open, and he looks at you, tears rolling down your pretty, puffy cheeks. "Shin, please..."

But he doesn't stop. You're not hurt. He knew when you were hurt, so why are you crying? "Hmm?"

"My pussy is so swollen," you murmur, reaching down to play with your clit. "Take it easy on me, babe."

"Mmm," he hums, bending over you. "Does it hurt, my sweet?"

"No," you admit, but tears still slip down your cheeks. Shin licks at one of them, relishing the taste of salt on his tongue.

"You want me to ease up?" You nod, allowing Shin to rock his hips into you carefully. "You want me to not fuck your brains out?"

"No," you protest, but Shin keeps going.

"Maybe we should stop for a little while. That might make things easier, hm?" Your pussy clenches around his cock, and Shin knows he's got you wrapped around his finger when you begin to fuck him back. His hand reaches around your waist and knocks your fingers away from your clit. "Should just come home and finger you from now on, it seems."

"Didn't say that," you gasp, simultaneously riding his fingers and milking his cock for all he's worth.

"No?" Shin rubs your clit faster, and you arch your back, crying out in pleasure. "Thought you wanted that, sweetheart. You want me to take it easy on you. I can definitely do that."

"Fuck me, fuck me, fuck me," you chant through your teeth, and Shin leans back and pistons into your cunt with as much force as he can muster.

"Now, cum for me. Cum right on my cock."

[taldigi]

Okay, here we go- Persona 4 Arcana Swap Persona Ideas! This is going to be long.

Fool!Chie - Tokoyo

Tokoyo is a young woman who is known for slaying an undersea beast. When her father was exiled by the emperor, Tokoyo goes to to find and help him, but when her efforts are unrewarded, she decides to pray at a local shrine and get some rest. However, this leads her to find a priest about to push a young girl into the sea. When confronting him, he explains that if the locals do not offer a sacrifice, a sea monster will batter their island home with intense waves and storms. Unfettered by this statement, she hands the priest a letter to give to her father in case she doesn’t make it, sticks a knife between her teeth, and dives into the water. She finds a statue of the emperor and decides to carry it up. When face to face with the sea monster, she successfully kills it and hauls both the statue and sea monster’s body above sea. The statue was magically connected with the emperor and when she hauled the statue out of the water, he was healed of a mysterious ailment. As thanks, he allows her and her father to reunite.

High Priestess!Yosuke - Nezumi-Kozo

Nezumi-Kozo was a famed thief in Japan’s history, with some coining him similar to Goemon and Robin Hood. He was immortalized in his efforts through kabuki theatre, jidaigeki, and pop culture in general. After his death, many pilgrims chipped away his headstone for charms, it had to be replaced multiple times. As you stated, Yosuke is not very well liked by the people in Inaba and yearns for an exciting and fulfilling life, and a thief could refer to such a desire and his legacy being carried out in pop culture and entertainment could also call back to Yosuke’s musical interests.

Emperor!Yukiko - Shuten-Dōuji

As previously stated in the Plan-B paragraph, Shuten-Dōuji is a famed oni, with a penchant for alcohol and saké. He had a multitude of underlings, all with a range of different abilities, such as shapeshifting. He was decapitated by Minamoto-No-Raikō, but still tried to bite him, which he avoided by wearing multiple helmets. Since I didn’t know much about Yukiko in this AU, I decided to go off of Kanji’s personas and go for something feared by many.

Lovers!Teddie - Utsurobune

Literally meaning “empty/hollow boat” Utsurobune was a strange object that floated to the shores of the Hitachi Province in 1803. It contained a young woman who wasn’t able to speak Japanese and was unable to communicate with anyone. Certain ufologists believe that it was an encounter with extraterrestrial life. Teddie feels empty, so his persona’s name is just “empty boat” and the young woman’s inability to speak and communicate with others properly can refer to Teddie being hesitant to properly communicate his true feelings.

Star!Yu - Momotaro

Momotaro is a well known and popular Japanese folktale, about a boy who was born from a peach who teams up with a monkey, dog, and bird to defeat the Oni on Onigashima. If Yu takes up Teddie’s role, that means three characters will fall into the TV, where he will team up with them to defeat the big bad lurking somewhere in the TV World. Pretty simple and self explanatory.

You're so good at this what the heck-

I'm particularly charmed by momotaro. I think that's so fitting.

[moonlight-wolfy]

Sharing is caring | smut (original by: atzsslut)

important original author’s note : if any of you came from my old blog (well same user, but i accidentally, stupidly deleted everything), you would know that this was my most popular fic. now, i’ve re-written it and made it much better than before. i hope you’ll all like this! :) i’m also changing up my templates a bit :0

important rewriter author’s note : I am just a person that wants to make some female reader stories onto male reader stories, the original author is @atzsslut and I am not trying to steal his/her work in any moment.

pairing : (gamer)boyfriend!san x male/amab reader (reader is specified to be jongho’s age) ft. the rest of the members

smut : MALE READER, daddy kink, humiliation (but you’re a masochist so you like it), penetrative sex, san’s PACKING, dom/sub dynamics, consensual exhibitionism (through video call), sex on a gamer chair, heavy degradation, edging, multiple orgasms, biting, spit/cum play, creampie, manhandling, use of hitachi ‘magic wand’ vibrator, PURE FILTH.

summary : you two were freaky enough as is, but add to that by having sex on san’s gaming chair and having all seven of his friends watch him pound your hole. ♡ 5.43k words

smut under the cut, minors do not interact

Cold. You felt cold, all except for your backside. Pressed against your boyfriend, his thighs spreading yours open, warm in his tight embrace. Your hands were clutching the arms of his gaming chair, the constant cool air of the room making your legs shiver, and what was in between feeling sensitive, seeing that you wore nothing else under your short pants.

"Darling, it's a little rude to not greet our guests, right?" San purred into your ear, both of his hands playing with the ends of your terribly short pants, threatening to expose what was underneath. 

His lips hit the shell if your ear, the tip of his tongue licking your soft skin to tease your already timid nature.

"I'm sorry." you quickly apologized, your wavering eyes trying to look confidently towards the monitor. But, you couldn't help but stare at his keyboard and repeatedly blink as you spoke, "Hi."

You weren't usually this shy in front of San's best friends, primarily since you've known some of them for years, but any boy in your position, literally and figuratively, would feel exactly how you felt.

The fact you were wearing a tight-fitted shirt, a short pants that San loved fucking you in, no underwear to be seen, and were sprawled out on San's lap—you had every right to feel sinfully aroused.

"Good boy," he responded with confidence laced into his voice, now one of his hands caressing up and down your bare thigh like he was petting you, "That wasn't so hard, was it?"

"No," you said quietly again, biting your bottom lip in nervousness. God, you wanted this, you agreed to this, but you couldn't help but feel timid during the actual occasion.

"Chin up, sweetheart. Let the boys see your pretty face."

"I—I can't." you admitted. San knew, and you knew he knew, that you were overwhelmed in the best way possible. You were visibly hot and bothered, and he could swear that you were already beginning to leak on his pants.

"Yes, you can. Come on, sweetie. They're all so, so eager to see how you look right now." his hand now tightened around your thigh as if to tell you 'don't be a brat,' and you understood well enough to obey.

Again, and with no answer this time, you didn't do as told. However, it was much too early for you to get punished, right? San would let this one slide, right? Wrong.

Suddenly, you felt a hand grip your jaw, forcing you to look up to the screen. Your eyes widened, your breath stopped, cheeks slightly squished by your boyfriend's fingers as you made eye contact with every one of the boys. And every one of them had a shit-eating smirk on their faces as they looked at you.

"God, baby." San spoke in faux disappointment, "You were being such a good boy today, and now when it's the main event, you choose to be a brat? Are you asking to get punished?"

"No!" you interjected, turning your head just enough to look San in the eyes.

"No, what?" he raised both his eyebrows, taunting you through the strands of hair covering a bit of his face.

"No, daddy." you added, not believing yourself for forgetting to say that.

"Awe," San pouted his lips and furrowed his eyebrows to mock you, now grazing your cheek with the same fingers that gripped it just seconds ago, "So cute of you to assume that you decide when you get punished."

You breathed in, looking back at the screen with the push of his hand. You could somewhat see the appearance being shot by the webcam at the bottom left of the screen, showing both you and San clearly on display. You could see and feel how San was beginning to slightly touch your core, inching closer with every move, exposing more of you to the other seven men.

Soon enough, they would all be able to see how wet you were getting without forgetting you also were super hard.

"Who's idea was it to have the Hitachi on-hand again?" San spoke, talking to his friends this time.

"Mine." Wooyoung replied, slightly raising his hand with pride as he pursed his lips in a smile. You weren't surprised by the slightest that it was his idea, knowing damn well from San that a lot of the sex advice he got was from Wooyoung.

"Thank you, Wooyoung." San started, "Now, because you thought of it, why don't you speak to my baby and tell her about what kind of punishment she'll be getting."

"I would love to." the grin still on his face. You could hear him roll forward with the chair he was sitting on, now laying his chin on one of his hands as he spoke to you, "Hi Y/N."

"H—hi." you greeted back, learning that it was better for you to speak than not speak at all.

"You look very, very handsome tonight, cutie." Wooyoung complimented, liking the doe-eyed look on your face, "Can I ask you something first before I tell you your punishment?"

"Sure." you nodded.

"Are you actually looking forward to having us watch you get fucked by Sannie?"

His question left you somewhat surprised, seeing that you had agreed to do this months ago and multiple times since then, to assure that everything was consensual. But it seemed that now it was actually happening; they all, including San, wanted to make sure that you enjoyed this.

In a way, it was a sweet gesture hidden in desire.

"Yes," you answered with only one word first. But before Wooyoung could speak again, you took in their consideration and realized you needed to be more vocal, "Yes. Very much so. I like this."

Your answer seemed to please them all, the atmosphere going from still to much more relaxed, much more sexual than before.

"I'm glad." Wooyoung paused before visibly checking you out once again, maybe for his own measures, "So, first, grab the Hitachi from the table before I give you any other commands."

"O—okay." you confirmed that you heard him, San also helping you lean forward to grab the vibrator from the table. "And then?"

"Patience, Y/N." his comment made you feel a little sheepish, having shown how eager you were. "Can I have San spread your legs a little wider so that we can see everything?"

You were, again, taken aback by the question but appreciated that he asked regardless. You nodded and said 'yes' once again, allowing yourself to melt more into San's body. Your hand gripped the Hitachi wand to not drop it, as your boyfriend adjusted his legs to spread yours more since he was under you.

Because of the movement, you were now on full display. Your aching tight hole and hard cock were now visible to the rest of the guys. There was no room for you to be shy anymore, not like before. The guys also felt the vulnerability you were experiencing, seeing that they were about to watch their friend's boyfriend get fucked.

"My, my~" another voice was now speaking, which you could easily recognize as Seonghwa's. "San was right. You look exceptional when you're turned on."

"Sannie.." you whined, furrowing your eyebrows as you looked back at him. You felt like punching him in the face for talking about you that way, but you couldn't necessarily deny that you found it hot. 

However, the punching agenda was still considered when he smiled and said a meaningless 'oops, sorry.'

"He's not wrong, Y/N." Wooyoung said, "Now since you still need to get punished, set the wand on high."

"High?" you asked, not sure if you were hearing him right. The night had just started, and he immediately already wanted you to use the vibrator on high?

"Yes, place it against your pecs first. They seem a little neglected, don't you think?" Wooyoung cocked his head to the side, making himself seem like the usual playful person you normally knew.

You expected that he would've made San do it for you, but having you do it to yourself while you're propped on your boyfriend like a display piece for a public audience felt humiliating. 

Then again, this was supposed to be your punishment. And a little humiliation never scared you off. 

With your dominant hand, you pressed it first against your clothed, right nipple. Your body reacted with a slight jolt, shaken by the sudden contact with the sex toy. 

Undeniably so, the buds on your pecs were already rather hardened because of how fitting the shirt was and the cold air, but having the vibrator touch you was a much more pleasurable sensation.

"A—ah~” you let out a small moan, but it was loud enough for the guys to catch.

"Move on to the other." you heard Yunho speak this time. You did as told and tried to subside your reaction following his words. Of course, it failed since they all could tell from your shut eyes and quivering figure that you were enjoying this.

"Good, you're already turning into the obedient slut I usually know." San commented, stimulating you further by kneading your pecs with both his hands.

"Now that you know what to expect," Wooyoung continued on, "Put it on your dick and keep it there until we tell you to stop."

This time, you used both hands to clutch the toy, inching it closer to your hard dick that was tingling with excitement. The buzzing sound of the vibrator was intimidating, but that wasn't what you were afraid of. What they would decide for you to do with it was what scared you.

The second the silicone hit your dick, you clenched around nothing and threw your head back against San's shoulder. An evident wail spilled past your lips, the pleasure of the vibrations immediately affecting your physical being.

"Feels good, baby?" San asked, knowing the obvious answer while still playing with your nipples..

"Yes—shit." you swore, pressing the head of the wand more onto your cock’s head. Usually, you would start with the lowest setting and gradually move to the highest to peak your orgasm, but having it immediately on high was a new feeling you had never experienced before.

Even San never set it instantly on high when he controlled it. Perhaps your boyfriend’s deviant cruelty wasn’t the worst, compared to what his friends seemed to have up their sleeves. 

"You look so hot, Y/N." you could hear Jongho say this time, the one person you knew the longest out of the eight guys.

And for some reason, that made an evidently loud whimper come out of your throat, kneading and giving more friction between your cock and the vibrator.

Really, Jongho was the one to thank for your relationship. If he hadn't called San to pick him up that night, you wouldn't have met him. Perhaps sooner or later, since you were a good friend to Jongho. Though sooner was better than later.

You couldn't forget the look in San's eyes when he held out his hand for you to shake, the attractive beam that was his smile you adored, Jongho introducing him as 'Choi San,' his favorite (and only) Hyung from Namhae.

Frankly, you were stunned when San told you that Jongho was up for his crazy idea to have his friends watch him fuck you. 

Unbeknownst to you, the reason why San wanted to do this wasn't that he tried to feed some fantasy he'd always had, but it was because of his bruised pride when his friends claimed that you seemed too “vanilla” to be able to follow his proclaimed, outwardly “kinky” self.

You weren't exactly "innocent" either, but you seemed like a saint compared to San and his sexual history. It was laughable, really, but not when you're already spilling sexual arousal all over your boyfriend's clothed crotch from the pleasure of the vibrator.

"You're such a fucking whore, already dripping onto daddy from just a few minutes of having your pretty dick pleased." San taunted, now moving on from your breasts to hold open your faltering legs.

"I—It feels good." you conceded, "Feels really, really good daddy.” 

"Glad to hear it, baby." Wooyoung cockily articulated, "You'll have to say when you're close, okay?"

"Okay." slightly breathless from the moans you had been letting out.

San could feel your back arching off his upper body, your nostrils letting out loud sighs from trying to reduce the volume of your laments, your hair slightly tickling his skin that wasn't covered by his shirt.

Your boyfriend always found you beautiful, whether when you were washing dishes with him and your hair was pinned up while your hands were covered with the thick pink rubber gloves.

But when you were under him in missionary, or even on top of him riding his cock, the expression you had contorted by bliss was his absolute favorite. He didn't care if your mascara smeared or if your hair clung to your forehead—he actually found it to make you look more beautiful as he fucked you raw, stretching your hole every time.

San was snapped back to reality from being mesmerized by your simple being when you stuttered out in the tone of voice he recognized all too well, "I'm close!"

"You wanna cum, angel?" Wooyoung asked, enjoying how you were writhing, and San had to physically keep you in place.

"Yes, yes, yes. Please~" you begged, the constant high setting making you lose your mind.

It was as if you could feel every nerve in your body reacting to the toy, making your mind feel hazy from the sensations. You let out a squeal when San put one of his hands atop yours, pushing the Hitachi further onto the tip of your cock, making you gasp aloud. 

You could feel your dick leaking a lot of pre cum continuing to release your wet arousal, surely leaving a small stan on San’s crotch by now. A part of you felt embarrassed—humiliated from the way your body was subconsciously reacting, but that was the exact point of this punishment. 

"Good..." he trailed, "Then, stop."

"Wha—what?" you asked, feeling genuinely high from the rapture. 

"Stop." he repeated, now more stern than the first time. "Lift the wand off your dick, turn it off, and set it down."

“Come on, sweetheart. Do as you're told.” San tutted, despite pulling the vibrator out of your hands and turning it off, setting it back down on the table where it was before. Like he was ridiculing you. 

You gulped, feeling more prone to the air conditioning’s breeze seeing that you were much more wet than before. Your now gleaming hole was presented to the screen, your quivering eyes able to see its shine through the self-view because of the light reflecting off the drenching amount you had subconsciously produced.

“Your punishment’s not done yet, doll.” Yeosang piped up, his small grin showing the little canines he had. You always thought that he had pretty teeth, but seeing them this way reminded you that he wasn’t here as your friend today, but as another dominant. 

“What … what else do I have to do?” you hesitatingly asked, twiddling with the ends of your shirt as San still kept your legs in place, spread upon like they all wanted.

“Hmm, it’s less about what you have to do, but rather more towards what you have to take.” Seonghwa quipped, the oldest man biting his tongue before continuing to speak again, “Right, Sannie?”

“That’s right~” your boyfriend cooed, placing his chin on your shoulder before laying a devastatingly sweet kiss on your neck, “Mingi, why don’t you do the honors of telling us what happens next?”

“My pleasure,” the man’s deep timbre evidently different than the rest, perhaps raising goosebumps on your skin from how attractive he sounded. Just like Wooyoung, he greeted you first, “Hello, pretty boy.” 

“H—hi.” you responded, eyes locked on Mingi’s section of the screen, “Hi, Mingi.”

“Are you ready?” he waited for you to nod, which you did, “Great. So, what’s going to happen now is San’s going to finger that sinfully wet hole…”

His degrading comment making you clench around nothing, liking how his voice sounded as he continued to speak,

“But again, you won’t cum. You will not cum, and if you manage to obey our orders until your punishment is done, only then will San fuck that preciously tight hole of yours. Understood?”

“Will I get to cum then?” your question filled with actual concern, edging being your least favorite punishment to take. 

“Of course. It’s only fair.” 

You hated men sometimes, especially when they were so cocky about sex. However, you couldn’t give a solid argument when they were all already making you awfully flustered. 

As you pursed your lips at Mingi’s words, absorbing the situation, San’s hot breath hit your ear once again. You could feel his lips moving from how close he was, soft and supple, juxtaposing the filth produced by his conscience. 

“Keep that in mind, princess.” he chuckled, starting to circle your swollen hole, “Daddy and his friends are only going to let you cum if you can hold in your orgasm.”

“I… I can do it.” you didn’t know if you were telling yourself that or San, either way it was to reassure yourself that you could, in fact, do it. 

“Okay~” without warning, at the end of the ‘okay’, he easily slipped two fingers into your previously empty hole. 

Using his ring and middle finger, San slowly began to teasingly move in and out of you, pleased by the whimpers coming out of your throat. 

“You hear that?” 

“H—hear what?” you cluelessly asked, not understanding what San was referencing to. 

“This.” 

Just as he said that, he repeatedly, and not so gently, moved his fingers in a come-hither motion, your special spot having been found easier than usual because of the vibrator use from before.

“Oh my—fuck.” you mewled, now understanding what he meant as your eyes slightly rolled back from the sudden bliss. 

The squelching of your wet hole was music to his ears, and to the seven other men eagerly watching, being one of his favorite sounds to hear whenever he fingered you. To say the least, Choi San was the closest thing you knew to a sexual deviant—an incubus.

“Don’t cum.” he commanded through gritted teeth. 

“What a pretty hole~” without looking, since you were too busy not being able to control your body’s trembling, you knew Hongjoong was the one making the compliment. 

“It is, isn’t it?” San replied for you, his hand around your penis while still finger-fucking you, “And it’s all fucking mine. Who does this tight hole and cock belong to again, darling? I think you need to remind daddy.”

Little shit, you thought. If only this cocky asshole wasn’t such a good boyfriend who was the best sex you’ve ever had. 

“Yours daddy!” you gasped out, unfortunately writhing as you badly needed to snap the knot in your abdomen, “A—all yours.” 

“Don’t cum, sweetheart~” he reminded you once again, this time in a sing-songy tone that made you tense your jaw. “Ask nicely to daddy’s friends if you want me to stop. Or else I won’t stop at all and you’ll have to hold in your carnal desires.” 

Swallowing the courage down your throat, you knew that would sound fucked out, but what did it matter anymore? Your orgasm and getting to have your boyfriend’s cock in you mattered more.

After all, you were Choi San’s personal slut. 

“Pl—lease. I can’t handle thi—is anymore,” some of your words were elongated from a choked moan you tried to keep down, “Please, please I can’t handle daddy’s fingers any—any more. Can’t hold it in—ah—I’ll cum.” 

“Awe, dollface, you can’t even get proper words out,” Seonghwa spoke, taunting you, “You really can’t take it anymore, huh? Can’t wait to get fucked stupid by your daddy?” 

“Yes! Yes, fuck yes~” your pride now completely out the window. 

“I think we should let her have Sannie now, don’t you all agree?” Wooyoung now asked, gleaming when the rest on screen nodded or simply smirked, “Alright, the agreement’s in your favor, angel.” 

Purposefully slow, San pulled his fingers out of your tight hole, making you squeeze around nothing at the sudden emptiness. You watched as he showed off his glistening hand to you and the screen, separating the two fingers that were just in you, causing you to see your own arousal stretch as it had coated his hand. 

“Open.” San was referencing your mouth, which you understood immediately, seeing that you two had done something like this more than once. 

Surrounding his fingers with your luscious lips, your sucking to get every drop off him was obnoxiously hot, making San smile as he silently thought ‘that’s my girl’. 

As per usual, you kept the cum on your tongue. Turning your head slightly, one of your hands cupped San’s jaw as you batted your eyes, your mascara-painted lashes complimenting the faux innocence in them. 

You stuck your tongue out, only a little bit, just enough for San to still be able to kiss you while sucking on it. As if collecting every bit, when he was done, he licked his lips and whispered to you,

“Always so sweet for me.” 

A whispered, but still hearable “holy shit” came out of Jongho’s mouth, his eager eyes watching you both, amazed at the sheer raw and sexual connection that was being shown by the web cam. 

“You want daddy’s cock, prince?” San asked once again, beginning to slightly buck up his hips, crotch still clothed and damp from your arousal. 

“Yes, daddy.” 

“Unzip me.” talking about his still zipped pants, which you quickly scrambled to smoothly undo with one hand, “Good boy, you can have it.” 

With the same hand, you took his dick out, pleased by the bit of pre-cum that was clearly coating his tip, assuring you more, even with how agonizingly hard he already was, that San was having just as good of a time.

He was fully supporting your body, your other hand clutching onto one of the chair’s arms just incase. You took his hardened member and first rubbed against it, slicking it with your own cum like you were marking your rightful territory. 

And after a few pleasurable movements on your penis, you finally pulled back just enough to let the tip come in first, slowly, but in such a needy manner, sinking down San’s cock like you were dependent on it.

Like your hole was molded and shaped for just his cock. 

You let out a sigh of satisfaction, feeling like you were getting the fill you needed since the start. San was stretching you open just enough to make the pain melt with pleasure, feeling good like it usually did.

“Stay right there for a second, darling.” 

And before you could register what San meant by that, your shirt was getting pulled over your torso, rolled up to your chest to reveal the rest of your body. 

“God, those must be nice to play with, huh San?” Yunho half-jokingly remarked, enjoying the sight of your bare pecs, visibly scanning your body as his friend’s cock was filling you to the brim. 

“Oh, surely they’re the best.” San spoke as if you weren’t there, “Absolutely love fucking myself between them. You should let me do that more often, Y/N.” 

“San.” you slightly scolded, clearly distracted by the cock inside you. You were a tad worn out from the denied orgasms, but having your boyfriend at least start to fuck you was sure as hell making you stay aware. 

This was what you wanted from the start. Ever since the first denial. 

“Okay, darling. Give daddy a minute.” 

You could feel San move his grip elsewhere, shifting his hands to the back of your knees, bending your legs towards your body.

From the new angle, you could his hips pushing rougher than before, cock reaching deeper, and you couldn’t help but gasp at the change.

“Shit.” you swore, the profanity serving as a sign that you were liking the feeling, your own hands moving to your penis to masturbate it. 

“You’re squeezing awfully tight around me, sweetheart. Missed daddy’s cock that much?” the cocky tone oozing out of San’s lips, but it wasn’t like he was wrong anyway. 

Not wanting any more delay, surely only wanting to have him pound you mindless, the words flowed out of your mouth like a mantra for all eight of the men; 

“Missed daddy’s cock so, so much. Can’t wait for you to fuck me stupid, until the only things I can think about are daddy and his friends watching me desperately cum.” 

“Goddamn, you don’t even talk this dirty with just the two of us.” San spat, liking this new attitude of yours, “My boyfriend’s that much of a whore to only get like this when daddy’s friends are around, huh?”

“Mhm~” you teased back, pushing on whatever inches were left exposed of San’s cock into your hole, lips pouted as you spoke to taunt him, “After all, isn’t that what daddy likes about me?”

“You know exactly what to say to rile me up, baby.” he admitted, holding you tighter, “You better hope you can walk tomorrow, slut.” 

And before you could register his words, San’s hips acted for him, having his body go absolutely feral, bucking into you with his cock like it was the first time he ever had a feel of your juicy tight hole. 

Quicker than expected, your mind grew blank, taking in the man’s pounding like you wanted, only thinking of the moments of when his cock was out of you, and when it came back in to hit your g-spot. 

In and out.

In and out.

In and out.

Deliciously devouring every inch of your hole, hitting just the edge of your cervix, and satisfyingly filling your walls. 

The chair was creaking, making sounds just as much as the two of you were. Surely, the neighbors might complain again tomorrow, but you could blame it on one of your very aggressive sessions of ‘gameplay’. 

“How the fuck is your hole still so tight from the millions of times I’ve fucked you before, huh? Is your excitement to have my friends—shit,” cutting himself off from the pleasure, “To have my friends watch you making you do this?”

“Y—yes, m’such a cumslut.” you moaned, playing with your nipples, adding to the intensity, “I like that daddy’s friends are watching me—fuck I wanna cum so bad.” 

“You wanna cum?” 

“So bad~” you whimpered, voice an octave higher from how it usually was. 

“Grab the Hitachi.” 

You did as told, leaning forward to take the toy from the table, where San had previously placed it. 

“Turn it on high.” 

“A—again?” you asked, clutching the object tightly, just a few centimeters away from your sopping hole.

“What? Nervous we won’t let you cum again, sweetheart?” Hongjoong teased, making you slightly scoff.

“No. You promised I could.” your interjection putting a smirk on all of their faces.

“We didn’t say if you were allowed to stop cumming once you start though, prince.” San added, beginning to relentlessly fuck into you again, “Come on, put it on high and play with your cock while daddy fucks you.”

You nervously, still doing as told, switched the setting to high, the excessively loud and strong buzzing noise taking over your ears, paired with your boyfriend’s animalistic thrusting that was hard to concentrate with. 

Already in a bliss, the second you placed the vibrator on your balls, you squeezed around San, causing him to chuckle and let out a swear from his own pleasure. 

You were already close to cumming before, and it seemed that they all knew this would bring you even closer. 

Your eyebrows knitted together, eyes unfocused from the sensations, pecs and legs shaking from the overwhelming feelings. Though you didn’t notice, drool was beginning to make its way past the corner of your lips as your mind could only focus on the rhythmic bucking of San’s hips and the constant vibrations.

“You’re so pretty like that, baby.” Jongho complimented, “All fucked out and you haven’t even cum yet.”

“I—I want to!” you replied, implying your desire for your release.

“If you want to cum, you better say thank you to Jongho for calling you pretty. Don’t be rude, brat. I taught you better.”

“Holy sh—shit.” the words you spoke barely even sounding right at this point, slurred from the pure bliss of sex you were feeling, “Tha—ank you!”

“Good boy,” San managed to say, somewhat still keeping his composure. Surely, he was absolutely enjoying every inch of your hole, getting wetter and tighter the closer you were to cumming, “God, you’re just getting closer and closer, aren’t you?”

“Please, can I cum? Please, please, plea—“

His command cut you off, but you were pleased by it. Finally taking in your pleads to consideration, after mocking and teasing you this whole time, San’s smiled with darkened eyes as he spoke directly into your ear, 

“Cum.” 

Barely gripping the Hitachi, your entire composure slipped when your toes curled, chest trembling as you clenched your jaw, a silent scream wanting to escape as your release took over your body.

However, as the wave of pleasure washed over your body, it took you only a few seconds to realize that San wasn’t stopping. That the wave you were feeling was only going to go over you a few more times until he wanted to stop. 

San didn’t cum with you.

You were already starting to feel like you were in overdrive, having been denied orgasms and finally given one, the fact that he wasn’t stopping was making you more fucked out than you had anticipated. 

And just as you were about to drop the Hitachi, your boyfriend sternly demanded from you once again, 

“Drop that, and I won’t cum inside you.” 

How dare he deny you of your favorite part? But that was exactly what he wanted you to think. What he wanted you to be motivated by to keep taking him, keeping that vibrator on you as well.

“T—too much. Too much.” you repeated, the tip of your cock almost painfully reacting to the vibrator still being on you, even after your orgasm. You were swelling around San’s cock, your body not having even gotten over your first high.

“If it’s too much, say your safe word then, slut.” he taunted, knowing damn well you wouldn’t. 

Knowing damn well, deep down, you were enjoying this so much you didn’t want the night to end.

“Fu—uck~” you mewled, almost like a cat in heat, drunk on his cock. 

“Daddy’s gonna cum, yeah? You want that?” you nodded at his words, “Of course you fucking want that. You want me to fill you to the brim, don’t you baby?”

“Fuck yes, yes!” you had to admit, adoring the feeling of whenever San came inside you, his cum painting the walls of your hole like it was meant only for that.

“That’s right, that’s my good fucking angel.” he grunted, his thrusts getting a bit sloppy, but not weakening by any means, “Holy shit.” 

With the last swear passing his lips, and a gasp coming out of yours, you both came at the same time, San even biting your shoulder (in the same place he usually did) as he released inside you. 

Both of you took deep breaths, San’s a bit shakier than yours as you turned the Hitachi off, his hands now carefully letting your legs down. He pulled your pants and shirt down for you, covering your bare body with the clothes again, as if it helped in any way (it did, you appreciated the gesture). 

This time, you could see that the two of you almost looked normal in the personal camera view, as if a girlfriend was just sitting on a boyfriend’s lap, perhaps slightly sweaty. 

In a post-coital tone of voice, cock still in you as if he had something up, he rolled the chair forward to come near the screen as he said;

“Sorry boys, seems like round two’s gonna happen offline.”

@atzsslut

[hyunsvngs]

which toys would fem skz use on themselves ?? i can’t stop thinking abt it. one of them would definitely use a rose 😵‍💫

ohhhh friend i love this ask

chan: ohh miss channie is telling me she likes the remote controlled vibrators. loves putting it in to play with herself or just rubbing the little bullet shaped toy along her folds, but ONLY if you control it for her! she wants you to be involved even if she can’t be with you, and she’d love to facetime and show you how wet she’s getting <3

minho: auntie lina mommy is giving classic rabbit vibrator vibes. the ones that thrust into you? oh yes. she lurvvvvs that. when you’re together she’s definitely a giver, but its always a reward when you’re away and she sends you videos of her fucking those slick pink folds open with a pastel rabbit vibe.

changbin: miss bini is soooo hitachi wand. loves the fact it packs a great punch and also it feels good on her muscles after working out! would love love love you to use it on her and she can use it on you too, maybe you both grinding your clits on the toy between your legs.

hyunjin: clitoral suction vibes. loves to get herself dolled up and relaxed, full on face mask self care night and then use her favourite suction vibe on her lil clit till she’s gushing. buys u both matching ones and insists u use them in front of eachother ngl.

jisung: no thoughts just fem jisung and bad dragon dildos. big ones. ones that squirt cum for her dirty little kinks. she would lurve to roleplay some stuff with you based on them!! also ems aka cbini has talked about this before but those bad dragon humping toys too?? fem jisung (and also irl jisung) would eat that shit up.

felix: fem lixie is soooo rose vibrator toy. loves to tease her folds with it, maybe even let it vibrate over her nipples for a bit but pretty baby just gets wayyy too impatient!!!! loves to give herself multiple orgasms with it and grind all over it too!! and she lurvvvs to show you, sending you loads of vids just like lixie spams us on bbl lol

seungmin: anything anal. she lives off those kinds of double penetration dildos that are curved in the middle to fit in both holes, but she loves fucking herself with a classic butt plug inside too. loves to leave herself gaping a lil for you to play with later on… what a babeee <3

jeongin: those oral sex simulator toys. she’d love to grind up into one and imagine it’s your tongue she’s riding into submission. she’d also love those curved g-spot vibrators, loving to use maybe both at the same time and OBVIOUSLY document it all for youuu <3

[quinloki]

Kinktober 2023 - Day 22

Today we're going to get a little... strapped.

Character: Yamato, Ace D. Portgas Reader: cis!fem Reader Warnings: Vaginal fingering, anal sex, vaginal sex, threesome, hitachi wand, strap-on, he/him Yamato as is proper, swearing, 18+

Summary: Yamato has a new, 11 inch long rainbow strap and wants to test it out. You're unsure about it fitting, but Ace is up for the challenge. -:- 3,197 words

Toy Box

“I can’t take that!” You exclaim, pointing at the 11”, threateningly thick, pale rainbow colored strap that Yamato’s holding in his hand. You look down at your own crotch as if to prove some sort of point. “Yams, I’m entirely too small, you’ll bottom out before you get it all in.”

Yamato is the tallest of the three of you, and you feel bad as his shoulders droop a little. You didn't want to disappoint him, but you knew your physical limits, and that was beyond the mark for you.

Ace tilts his head, looking at you. “Is that bad?”

“I mean, not for everyone, but for me it hurts.” You admit with a whimper. “Sorry Yams.”

“Wait, does it hurt when I -?” Ace starts and you shake your head, face heating up.

“No you…” You put your hands over your face, out of the three of you that made up this little love nest, you were the only one with an excess of embarrassment. “You fit perfect.” You mumble.

Ace ruffles your hair and you can imagine the big grin on his face. “Well, I could take it.” He says assuringly. “A little prep and enough lube and I bet it’ll feel amazing.”

“Do we want to get started now?” Yamato questions, his face brightening up. “It vibrates.” He adds, a mischievous and delighted smile as he turns it on and off to prove his point.

You almost wanted to wear it to peg either one of them, but you stay quiet as Ace is all for trying it now.

“I suppose I’ll sit back and enjoy the show then.” You say as brightly as you can manage.

“Huh?” Both ask at the same time, confusion on their face.

“You can sit back and watch if you want,” Ace starts.

“But you don’t have to.” Yamato finishes.

Now it’s your turn to tilt your head. “But how?”

The two of them smile. The smiles aren’t devious, but the energy coming from both of them is.

“There’s a couple different ways that are easy enough.” Ace promises you. “How about I lay down and you can get on top of me?”

“Well, but then-.”

“If you hook my legs with your arms you’ll have leverage,” Ace interrupts.

“And I’ll have access!” Yamato declares triumphantly.

“Access to?” It’s not making sense in your head and they both point to Ace.

Ace laughs when you look more confused, and helps you pull your shirt off as the three of you begin to strip. Which is more, the two of them stripping you down while stripping one another. Normally you would help, but you’re confused, and a moment ago you were certain you were going to be sitting this one out, so it feels a little whiplashy.

“This is going to make more sense if we just do it.” He says, tossing your shirt away. Tilting your face up toward his with his finger he leans down and kisses you.

Once you return his kiss his hands start to wander, pulling the straps of your bra down as you feel Yamato behind you, undoing the clasps. The two of them always took care of you, ever since a drunken party one college night had led Yams to declaring he could take both of you. Your relationship with Ace turned into a poly relationship pretty fast after that.

Yams and Ace were all the sunshine and energy of the group, and you were usually the more reserved and level-headed one. For all their shenanigans though, you worked well together. Outside of the bedroom you were often the one in charge, organizing who did what chores and keeping the house stocked and the meals planned.

In the bedroom, however, they took care of you.

Ace’s hot fingers were cupping and teasing your breasts as his kisses moved away from your mouth to your neck. You held onto him, stepping out of your jeans as Yamato helped you out of them. With the last of your clothes gone, save your socks, Yamato spread your legs a little and started teasing your clit with his fingers.

Your fingers flexed against Ace’s skin, and you sucked in a breath of surprise before moaning. You could feel the two of them exchanging kisses as they continued to play with you. Yams’ thumb pressed along your slit, causing you to spread your legs a little further, holding onto Ace’s shoulders as Yamato’s thumb pushes inside of you.

Your hips roll and you’re almost riding his hand.

“Puh-please, please, you two… I,” you gasp as Ace twists your nipples a little. Not enough to hurt, but enough to run a strong sensation through your chest. He leans back, and so do you, resting against Yamato a little as the latter holds onto you and teases you while Ace watches for a moment.

You don’t bother continuing to beg, feeling the blood rush through you as Ace’s eyes move over your body. He strips himself down, not taking his attention away from you and Yamato as your white-haired lover begins to lick and tease your skin while he continues to play with your pussy.

“Look at him being all cocky like that.” Yamato hums into your ear. “Giving you that grin like I’m not going to twist his sweet face in a few minutes.”

Ace’s devious smile breaks into a larger full grin. “That strap ain’t that big.” He asserts, going over and sitting on the edge of the bed, motioning for the two of you to join him.

Yamato releases you, giving you a playful smack on your ass to get you moving while he takes his own time to strip and get things ready. Ace lifts you up into his lap, hugging your chest to his and kissing along your collarbone as his hands steady you.

“Sure you’re up for this?” He questions, looking up at you from the mess of dark hair.

“I’m not the one getting sandwiched.” You say, giving him a kiss on the forehead. “Besides,” you start, looking away even though you’re sure Ace can see the embarrassment on your face. “You two have me all worked up now.”

“Ah, so it’s our fault.” Ace hums, grabbing you and flopping backward before you can reply. You squeak a bit, shifting a little as he helps you sit up more.

Ace steadies you by your breasts, teasing you even as he supports you, and Yamato helps hook Ace’s legs against your arms. Holding Ace’s legs with your arms meant you couldn’t smack away his hands from your breasts, but the leverage let you tease his hardening cock with your wet slit.

Ace’s legs twitch against your arms and you see the heat rise in his face, his fingers trembling a little as he continues to try and tease you. Yamato rests his head on your shoulder, kissing you softly as you both watch Ace.

“He’s cute when he’s trying not to moan, isn’t he?” Yamato prompts. You nod, grinding into Ace’s cock a little more roughly as Yamato pushes two fingers into the freckled man’s ass.

Ace pulls his hands off your chest, grunting a little bit before he finally lets a soft moan fall from his lips.

“What a good boy,” Yamato purrs, and you grin down at Ace. He huffs a little, lifting your hips and lining himself up with you before lowering you down onto his cock.

“Don’t you get sassy with him,” he asserts, pushing you down onto him. You don’t stifle the satisfied sigh as he fills you up. Thick and curved a little, Ace didn’t hit too deep, but he did seem to fit you exactly as you needed, teasing the most sensitive places in your pussy with that curve. He kept talking about getting a piercing or two, and while you’d never ask him to do so, you hoped he would on his own one day.

Your eyes roll up into your head a little as his thumb teases your clit while you shift your hips.

“See, you should be more honest, like her.” Yamato teases, kissing your back before he kneels between Ace’s legs. “Relax, hot stuff.”

“I’m re-laaaaaxed!” Ace’s voice goes up a little and nearly breaks. You did your best to consciously squeeze against him as he started to speak, and it paid off. His ears are bright red and he’s looking at you in disbelief for a moment before he grins. “Someone’s trying to be a brat tonight.”

He turns his head to the side. “Hey Yams, can you grab that other thing you bought?”

“The wand? Sure.”

“The what?” You question, a little concern creeping into your voice.

“Don’t worry, just hold my legs.” Ace replies before Yamato can answer you.

A moment later Yamato is plugging something into the wall and handing it off to Ace. It’s a long rod with a bulbous end.

“Is that a -.”

“Vibrator? Yup.” Ace answers, smacking his lips at the end of the last word.

“It plugs into the wall?!” You’re feeling nervous suddenly. The three of you have used quite a few toys and accessories as time had gone on, but this was new.

Ace clicks it on, and it vibrates almost violently. The devious look on his face is practically making you shiver more than the possibilities of that vibrator. Your arms are still holding his legs, and your legs are straddling him. Wherever he decides to go with that thing, you can’t stop him.

Curiosity is also driving you forward.

“Haa, I felt you twitch that time,” he points out, pressing the bulb end against your clit while it’s off. The squishy material doesn’t give too much, and you can’t help rocking your hips against it. “Hey Yams, before you work that behemoth into me, hold onto (Y/N) for a minute.”

“Let me get this in first.” Yamato replies, pushing the head of the strap on into Ace’s lubed ass. Ace lets out a soft sigh, doing his best to relax and help Yamato work the toy in.

“Fuck.” Ace huffs.

“Too much?”

“N-nah,” he husks. “She’s twitchin’ against my cock, and the strap’s stretchin’ me, it’s just a lot.”

“St-stop teasing me with that th-thing,” you stammer. The warmth of Yamato behind you was more of a turn on because you knew he was slowly burying himself into Ace. Something about the whole situation was unbearably hot.

“Almost there,” Yams says, licking along your shoulder and making your whole body tremble.

You and Ace moan at the same time, and you can easily picture the pleased smile on Yamato’s face. He loved twisting you both around his finger and being the main lead/dom whenever you three got into things. Ace might top him from time to time, but he was wily as he was tall, and since he was the tallest of the three of you he was almost always in charge.

“There.” Yamato says, letting out a heavy breath before locking his arms around yours and your body, pressing your back against his chest. Not only were you held back by Ace’s legs, but now you were fully pinned in place.

Anticipation already has you in knots as Ace pushes the toy against your clit again. He rubs a little, until you finally look at him. When your eyes meet those storm steel ones of his he clicks the wand straight into high gear.

Your body clenches, tightening against Ace’s cock inside you, and shivering in Yamato’s hold. You suck in a breath in surprise, and it takes you a second to let it out. Nervous, broken moans fall from your lips as your body continues to squirm. If you weren’t held in place so well, you’re fairly certain you would’ve twitched right off of Ace’s waist.

“Damn, I can feel it.” Ace huffs, toes curling a little.

“Oh.” Yamato shifts behind you, holding you steady as he reaches down and clicks something. Ace’s body tenses and he pushes the wand into you a little harder for a moment. “Now you can really feel it.” Yamato assures him, having turned the vibrating function on for the strap buried in Ace.

“Haa, shit, I’m not going to last long like this.” Ace pants, rolling the toy around and teasing you with it. He’s flush from his face down to his elbows, his freckles disappearing into the blush that’s rising to the surface.

Yamato starts to help you move a little, giving you enough room to ride Ace’s cock while he keeps the wand on your clit.

“Yams, you ba-bastard.” Ace growls.

“It’ll be easier to rail you if you cum once.” Yamato points out happily, before turning and whispering into your ear. “Don’t hold back now, cum hard and watch his pretty face twist when he fills you up. Focus now.”

“Cum, I’m gonna cum,” you huff. Your whole body feels hot. You almost wish you were stuffed by both of them, with the vibrator on top of it. You’d probably lose your mind, but it would be worth it. As it was, the only thing really keeping you steady, was what Yamato had said.

Yamato nuzzles into the crook of your neck, licking and nibbling your tender flesh as his hands shift and tease your tits. You see Ace’s face twitch, his brows knitting as his mouth goes slack. His breath is coming out heavy and quick, and you know he’s as close as you are – probably losing his mind watching Yamato play with you.

“-Much! Too much!” You cry, your words at odds with your actions as you ride Ace without Yamato’s help. Even as the orgasm slams into you, you keep trying to move. Ace’s free hand grips your thigh, fingers pressing into your skin. You aren’t sure if he’s trying to stop you, or urge you on, and you’re rewarded with quite the view as he nearly sobs.

You can’t blame him, the intensity of your own climax still had you shivering and trembling, especially with the wand still going. You’re pretty sure your orgasm had slammed him into his faster than he expected. It was like having the floor yanked out from under you unexpectedly – and the surprise and rush looked beautiful on his face.

You feel him cum inside you, shifting the wand to a lower setting as the two of you work your way through the last few pleasurable twitches. He shuts the wand off, setting it off to the side, as he fights to catch his breath.

“Fuck me.” He huffs.

“Okay!” Yamato responds, holding onto your shoulders, as you’re holding onto Ace’s legs, and you hear Ace make a weird noise as you feel Yamato start to thrust into him.

“Yuh-Yaaam-ma-ma-ma-moto!” Ace stammers, his legs squirming in your grip. You hold on tight. Despite your own exhaustion from cumming so hard, you feel revived watching Ace squirm underneath you.

Ace grabs the sheets, his hips bucking against Yamato’s thrust, shoving himself deep into you. You can feel him twist and shift inside you, even before he bucked. You’re trying not to move too much so that he can recover a little on his own, but his legs twitch and it shifts you around, and when you shift he sucks in a breath, letting out a nervous shivering laugh.

“See? I told you it would be worth it.” Yamato huffs, picking up his pace.

You lean back against him, starting to shift your hips and ride Ace again. “You weren’t wrong.” You agree and you hear Ace whimper.

“You’re both, haa, haa-awful.” Ace gasps, moaning as you and Yamato start to synchronize a little. “Shiiiiiiit.” He hisses.

You grin, leaning over and leaving kisses against his calf. “I didn’t realize how adorable you were, hot stuff.” You tease, using Yamato’s nickname for him.

Ace pouts, his face and ears red, giving you a sour look for a second before he’s gripping the bed sheet again. “I’m gonna get you ba-back.” He growls the words, but there’s a delicious whine that escapes him as Yamato shifts.

“Ah, there it is.” He says, pushing Ace’s legs forward a little, tilting you forward slightly in the process. “Now to make you both cum again.” Yamato promises and you feel a chill down your spine at the tone in his voice.

Normally Yamato was happy and cheerful, much like Ace. But while Ace could shift from laughter to husky and demanding, Yamato usually stayed very lighthearted all through the night. It was rare that his demeanor shifted away from mischievous at the most.

Yamato began thrusting into Ace’s ass with enough force to bounce you on Ace’s cock. Being tilted forward a little and held in place mostly by your own hold on Ace’s legs, you didn’t have the position to keep yourself still. Every slap of Yamato’s hips into Ace’s thighs pushed you forward, and you’d shift back down again.

The angle also made your clit rub into Ace’s lower abs, and so the pleasure was a jolt on two fronts.

“Yam-Yams!” You gasp, holding onto Ace’s legs a little tighter doesn’t help. His moving is what’s making you move in the first place.

“Yes?” Yamato hums. “Does it hurt?”

You shake your head. “No, no, but it’s too – too much we won’t be able to- hnnngh, heck.” You tense, groaning before you stammer the little half swear. “You’re gonna wear us ow – out.”

“Probably.” Yamato replies, speeding up a little. “But I wanted to wreck Ace with this new strap, so I’m getting what I want.”

“M-Me?!” Ace exclaims. “You, haaa-nnngh-fuck – you said it was for, for,” Ace throws his head back and his back arches. You can feel his body tense as Yamato continues.

“Yup, and you took it as a challenge.” Yamato says in that tone that sends another shiver through you.

His voice sent a shiver through Ace too because you heard him grunt before his entire body tenses. A trembling swear escapes him before his face breaks again and he’s panting. You can feel him twitch inside you, and the hot rush of cum is enough to push you over the edge. You hadn’t even realized how close you were until Ace’s orgasm pushed into you.

You’re both crying out Yamato’s name as he slams deep into Ace a couple times, before slowly pulling out.

“That’s my good lil’ pups.” Yamato purrs, kissing your shoulders before helping to untangle you from Ace’s legs.

“By the seas, you thrusted at the end like you could feel it through the strap!” Ace huffs, laying sprawled out on the bed as he fights to catch his breath.

Yamato laughs. “Sometimes it feels like I can,” he admits. “I could feel this one more cause the vibrations hit me too.”

“I really like your toy box,” you sigh contentedly, as Yamato helps you lay down beside Ace.

“It’s getting full, I’m going to have to buy a bigger box.” Yamato says and you and Ace laugh at the accidental reference.

After getting the strap cleaned off, Yamato comes back and snuggles with the two of you, chatting idly about the session until you all have the energy to go get cleaned up properly.

[embossross]

From His Mind to Hers

chapter 10 >> Chapter 11 >> masterlist

✣ Pairing: Hanma x AFAB fem!Reader

✣ Warning: 18+, minors DNI; unhealthy relationships & dark content

✣ Chapter CW: ok bear with me because this chapter…dubcon to be safe (all sex is consensual but Hanma regularly ignores reader’s protests about specific things during the act), anal sex, facesitting, anal plugs, phone sex, masturbation, more daddy kink rooted in daddy issues, nonconsensual filming, mentions of consensual somnophilia, mentions of blowjobs, mentions of exhibitionism/sex in a semi-public place, mentions of overstim, mentions of vibrators, mentions of ptv sex, cheating

✣ Story CWs: patient/doctor relationships; smut (oral, ptv, pta, etc.), degradation, stalking, torture (not of y/n), murder, discussions of trauma and abuse, drug use, and more

✣ Synopsis: Forced into therapy, Hanma expects to waste his time and yours, but you’re not about to let the chance of a high-profile and higher paying patient slip through your grasp. The fact that you’re both attracted to each other doesn’t hurt either.

✣ Word Count: 11k+

Autumn creeps into your life, blanketing the summer heat and suppressing it to something milder. A warm, dry September and then October. You don’t notice the transition at first, the same way you wouldn’t notice a bank robbery during an alien invasion when all eyes are on the skies. Because if there are two adjectives to describe your life this autumn, they are “hot” and “wet.”

The line you toed for so long between same-old security and hedonistic abandon isn’t simply crossed, it’s been scuffed and swept away entirely underfoot. Whether you crossed it of your own volition or Hanma yanked you across by the hair doesn’t matter. It is a uniquely bountiful autumn either way, a plentiful harvest for the fields and a blossoming from somewhere deep within your body as you yield for the first time in your life to what you truly want.

And, as it turns out, you want quite a lot.

You want to try delicious foods as you lounge in bed. The decadence of silk sheets caressing your bare body as you lick heavy cream from your fingertips, unbothered by whatever stains you leave on the pillowcase knowing Hanma will pay the bill.

You want to wake up in a dingy motel room with nothing but blurred memories from the night before. Disoriented as you try to gather yourself even as heavy balls slap your ass and a cock bullies its way straight to the heart of you.

You want a man to push you to your knees in a half-secluded alleyway, make you call him “Daddy” before he chokes you on his length, loud enough that surely someone will investigate.

Bubbling over with these newfound desires, it’s all you can do to function in the mundane everyday of what you once dubbed your “real life.” The you-shaped space you carved for yourself in the world, that intangible some call identity, doesn’t allow for these wants or behaviors, fit a different woman you can no longer access. So, you sleepwalk through those miserable hours, working yourself into a wet froth at the very thought of what Hanma might introduce you to next.

Pleasure in moderation is something neither you nor Hanma understand, so it is no surprise when in September, after wringing orgasm after orgasm out of your battered cunt with a Hitachi Wand whose buzzing you swear will forever narrate your dreams, you go completely clit numb. The merest brush against swollen flesh is enough to bring tears to your eyes and wreak defensive shudders up and down your spine. The sensitivity lasts for one frustrating week. During which time, Hanma teaches you yet another lesson in pleasure when he bends you over and spits on your unused asshole, promising to show you the joys of being a three-hole slut for him. You swear you cum harder than you ever have in your life when he fucks your ass, all stretching and pulsating and throbbing pleasure just this side of pain as he pursues his orgasm with barely a care for yours.

Hanma takes what he wants whenever and wherever he wants it. And like a willing little acolyte, you are only too happy to oblige.

In the Septuagint, the earliest Greek translation of the Hebrew Bible, appears the concept of the abyss, a bottomless hole without bounds or limits. It represents the chaos from which the world is created. Later the abyss would be reinterpreted in Jewish literature as essentially the underworld, but you prefer its origins. You liken the depth of Hanma’s desire to that abyss, an anarchic, illimitable realm. There is no predicting Hanma’s desires from one day to the next as they surface from those arcane depths as spontaneous as Hanma himself.

The only guarantee you have come to count on with Hanma, is that when he calls you, you will be fucked.

That is pretty much a given.

Sometimes, Hanma likes to take you in opulent hotel rooms. Those nights, Hanma presses you to call him “Daddy” to thank him for his generosity. He washes your hair in the his-and-hers bathtubs, massages you in hot oils, and fucks you slow and deep, body to body with no space in between, until it feels like you might melt into one another. Enough Oxytocin floods your brain, you could almost mistake it for love.

Other times, Hanma reverses the arrangement entirely, bringing you to the most rundown dumps he can find, the kinds where working girls fill the lobby dressed in next to nothing and perverse moans filter through paper-thin walls. If it is meant as a declaration of your place – just a whore to use and throw away – you don’t mind. Because you know he’ll call you again tomorrow and the day after that. It’s there in the way his brow pinches tight when he cums, jaw slack and dumb as the last spurts decorate your body. He is as cumdrunk as you are.

The privacy of a hotel isn’t a must for you two either. None of the safeguards society puts in place to stop couples from descending into animal lust mean anything to Hanma. When you stop at a konbini to stock up on condoms, he’ll shamelessly hump into the crest of your ass. Your office is thoroughly corrupted by him at this point, his cum seeping into the floorboards in a primal marking of territory. At a restaurant or bar to replenish your energy after a dehydrating, exhausting round of sex, Hanma might drag you to the bathroom for a quickie bent over the sink, eyes capturing every expression and wince as they meet yours in the mirror. You love those times. When he threatens in that deep, lilting tease to unlock the door and show everyone how pretty you look stretched out on his cock, you fall apart. You love the cruelty there, the danger that comes with knowing he could hurt you, wants to even, and yet he doesn’t.

Just about the only place you don’t fuck is at the home you share with Takashi. A flimsy scruple, a last stand at the pretense of boundaries that Hanma is hellbent on eradicating. So far, you have remained firm. The most you’ll compromise is riding him in the cramped quarters of his car outside your building. That you indulge in regularly.

It is a long, hot three months, and if Hanma calls you insatiable, you have no argument to return because you see no end in sight. Something has awakened inside you, and you don’t want to stop.

And what you want, you take.

--

The tick tock of the preset audio on your phone is dependable, a looping metronome that you can set your breathing to, steady as the beating drum. It is the only discernable sound in your office. Hanma sits on the couch, eyes closed and perched on the very edge as if prepared to leap to his feet. From your own chair, you watch him try – and fail – to meditate.

Hanma is as fidgety as you’ve ever seen him. One foot taps relentlessly, a little staccato tune set to his own rhythm. Every few seconds, he idly scratches his elbow or readjusts his weight on the cushion. At other times, when he means to intimidate, Hanma can go completely still, like a cat stalking its prey; so while you didn’t expect Hanma to excel at meditation, you are still surprised by how soundly he is failing at it.

When Hanma sighs for the fourth time in as many minutes, you decide to interject.

“Try to refocus on your anchor. Hear the ticking of the clock, center it. Acknowledge your thoughts as they pass by, and then, let them go.”

“How am I supposed to focus on nothing but the damn clock. I feel like freaking Captain Hook. Maybe if my anchor was more interesting,” Hanma says, slumping back on the couch.

“It doesn’t have to be the clock,” you concede, turning the sound off. The office vibrates loudly in the abrupt absence of the ticking. “Try to picture something instead. An object or image, something mundane but peaceful that can help you anchor yourself to the moment. Tell me when you have something in mind.”

“I’ve got it,” Hanma says after a beat.

“Describe it to me.”

“It’s a jewel.”

“Like a diamond?”

“Yes, but fake. Probably plastic or cubic zirconia. Doesn’t matter. It’s a round stone, colorless. The light glints off it. It shines,” Hanma says.

From behind closed eyes, Hanma doesn’t see you nod your approval as you reply, “Good. Now, hold that image clear as can be in your mind. Try to maintain it as the center of your thoughts. As stray thoughts come, accept them without judgment and try to observe them as if you are an outsider. Then, return to your jewel.”

Mindfulness is the last step in the puzzle of Hanma’s treatment. He already recognizes the problem: namely, that when bored or otherwise triggered, he lashes out. Likewise, he has already learned coping strategies to forestall a negative outcome and release his most manic energies in a more productive manner: surfing and well, you. So, all that remains now is to arm Hanma with the tools to recognize when he is being triggered, identifying the faulty thought patterns and stimuli sooner, so that he can address them before the stressors build into a violent outburst.

With the jewel fixed in his mind, Hanma relaxes fully into mindfulness. Still and silent, a half hour passes.

Were you more responsible, you might use this time to try a little meditation yourself as your personal therapy sessions have stalled out. Each session you talk mostly about your childhood and mother. The background would be helpful except ignorant of your recent reckless, self-harming behaviors, your therapist can’t guide you towards any breakthroughs or coping strategies. The secret of you and Hanma is locked away. The only place where you are remotely frank is in your private therapy diary, where you catalogue your comings and goings as well as your worst fears for when this is over. Because this will inevitably end.

The specter of how this detour in your life, this affair – torrid as it sounds – will end haunts you, lingering in the back of your mind even as you reach the brink of pleasure, casting shadows over your dreams. Weeks ago, you dreamt you were caught in a bear trap, ankle tearing on its serrated edges. It was within your power to break free, but a clean escape was impossible. You would need to leave behind everything below the ankle.

You think of that dream often.

Outside your dreams, your anxieties take on a different, even less forgiving symbolic representation. A reaper. Someone knocking on your door, demanding much more than a foot, intent on taking everything. Gone your newfound joy at being alive. Stolen your career. Lost forever your security. Perhaps the reaper would not be satisfied until he took your very life.

Sometimes, you picture this reaper as a tall, thin man with coiffed purple hair and striking violet eyes to match…

Since first meeting him, you have only heard from Haitani Ran twice. The first time, he texted you from the number he saved as “Hirayama Riko” in your phone. Under the pretense of being an old university acquaintance, “Riko” texted that she was finally going on that vacation to Ishigaki to relax by the sea, just like you always used to discuss. You had puzzled for hours over how to respond to this baiting message before finally replying that you were happy for “her” but didn’t see such a vacation in your future.

That first exchange happened before the night at the beach, when Hanma got you high and fucked you at the club. You told yourself that you were motivated by pure logic, that the risk was not worth the potential reward. Loyalty to Hanma was not even a factor.

A month later, “Riko” sent you another message. This time a photo of a woman in her early thirties – presumably meant to be this imaginary Riko – at the beach, looking as if she had teleported to paradise beside gentle blue waters and a comically yellow sun. Already deep into your affair with Hanma at this point, you didn’t even bother to reply.

Remembering Haitani ambushing you still sends a sick trill down your spine. It is too dangerous to even think about as if Hanma might read your thoughts and learn the truth of what you kept from him, what you selfishly considered when yen signs first flashed before your eyes.

Vibrations from your phone shock you out of these memories. The time passed so quickly. You summon Hanma out of his meditation. He sits up, hair askew, so that his curls lay flat on his forehead, a blush of color in his cheeks, and you are startled by how beautiful he is.

“Well done,” you compliment. “I want you to continue practicing meditation for at least a few minutes every day. The more you do this, the more adept you’ll become at recognizing your thought patterns as they happen, and you’ll be able to apply that objectivity in your day-to-day life without the need to meditate at all. Once you master that, we’ll train together to overcome the negative thought patterns you identify as they arise.”

“Sure thing, Doc. It was easy once I had the proper motivation to keep me focused. Speaking of…I think I deserve a reward for being such a good, focused patient. Don’t you agree?”

There is no semblance of fight left in you, and maybe you should be ashamed of that. Maybe as Hanma directs you to the couch he just inhabited – scratchy fabric digging into your knees as he rearranges you like a doll to his liking – you should think of Takashi or your responsibility to Hanma as a patient. Then Hanma speaks and your thighs clench, blood sizzling with something that makes waking up every morning more than bearable, exciting, and you find that none of the rest matters.

“There we are,” Hanma coos when he has positioned you where he wants you. Hands press to the wall as you kneel tall, head stopping just below his chin.

He bunches the fabric of your pencil skirt up to the apex of your thighs, the cut too tight to rise any further. Idle fingers drag across the band of your stockings, snapping the elastic in a sharp twang against your skin. You peer over your shoulder to watch Hanma’s expressions. Those greedy eyes consume you like he might build your perfect replica from memory before he removes his glasses, tossing them off to the side.

The siren song of your lacy nylons distracts him for only a short moment. Too long denied his prize, Hanma doesn’t waste much time. One hand digs into the flesh of your thigh as the other rifles under your tight skirt, finding the swell of your ass and then…

Ping.

You jolt as Hanma flicks the plug fit snug in your ass, the outside a diamond-shaped jewel, like a shiny beacon to draw the eye. Mortified, you glare over your shoulder at him. He ignores you in favor of grinning lecherously at your covered ass. Relaxed after hours of wearing the plug at Hanma’s behest, you had completely forgotten it was there. When he waxed poetic about a diamond-like jewel, you didn’t even consider the one nestled between the swell of your ass cheeks.

“The point of the anchor is to train your brain to relax, so you can study your own thoughts as they occur spontaneously. It does not work if you’re picturing a…a…” you trail off in part because you are unable to find the words and in part because Hanma harshly twists the plug, sending ripples through your insides.

“I feel plenty relaxed. Really, it’s not easy to capture my attention, Doc, but picturing this hole gaping open for me while you sit there all proper and professional, really did it for me,” Hanma teases.

“You’re such an ass,” you mutter, and then more loudly, “You promised if I wore this you would take today’s session seriously!”

Hanma ignores you, lowers the zipper of your skirt, so he can shuck the fabric down your thighs, revealing all that naked skin. A hand on the small of your back pushes you down a fraction, so your ass rounds and you can no longer make out Hanma’s smirking inspection.

“You could add hypnotherapy to your services. Already got me so hard,” Hanma murmurs.

The plug drags as it’s removed. Your muscles clench down around the absence, strained and strange after having grown accustomed to the weight of it.

There is no anchor for you to escape to. Nothing of interest for your eyes to latch onto but some chipped paint, a scratch, and the faintest smell of plaster. Naturally, you hyperfocus on the sounds coming from over your shoulder. First, the rustle of clothes as Hanma strips. Then, the hocking glob of him spitting, though it doesn’t land on your ass like you expect. The mystery is solved a moment later when, lastly, you hear a familiar slapping of skin as Hanma jerks his cock to the sight of your spread asshole. The heaviness of arousal weighs down your breasts, but you resist. He doesn’t deserve this reward, not after he made a mockery of meditating after promising to take it seriously.

“You’re such a pervert,” you hiss.

“Oh, is that the game you want to play, Doc. Depraved patient forcing his pretty doctor on her knees. I think I could get into that,” Hanma says, voice coming from lower than you expected, as if he’s bent down to stare directly at your asshole.

Usually when Hanma plays with your ass, he preps you carefully, tongues your closed hole until it parts beneath him like a flower, makes a game of adding one finger after the next, testing how far he can reach inside with a satisfied eye on your heated face. Pushed to the edges of his patience, Hanma foregoes all of that, so the next thing you feel is the head of his cock.

The tip pops in without resistance. It is when Hanma flexes forward to where his cock is thicker than the plug that you wince. It burns a little, an unsettling intrusion that lights up your nerves, demanding you force it out. The stretch doesn’t feel good exactly, but the memory of other times just like this, when pain yielded to pleasure, tricks your body into responding with a breathy little gasp.

With his length lodged halfway in your ass, Hanma stalls out. He breathes heavily behind you. When he can’t force his way deeper, he switches to little muttered curses.

One of his hands wraps around your belly, the other finding its way to yours, where you support yourself braced against the wall. Holding you like this, you relax a fraction, enough to suck his cock in a crucial centimeter deeper. You both groan.

A blunt molar and then a sharper canine scrapes a line up your neck. Hanma follows the not-quite bite with sucking kisses, follows the vein to your jaw, marking you. You arch and sigh into it. Nothing gets you off quite like Hanma’s teeth at your throat, the threat of a predator poised to strike and yet tamed by the wet heat of whichever hole he chose to fuck that day. The faint remnant of danger tingles your clit, makes you aware that you’re slick between your legs, where you remain untouched and wanting.

Hanma draws his hips back a fraction and then drives upwards into your body. This time, your relaxed muscles accept him, and he fucks deep to the hilt. Eyes blown wide, you scramble for an anchor. You find one where his hand still holds yours on the wall, veins prominent and knuckles white as he pins you down with the heavy weight of his body molded to your back. There’s no space between you where his hips lodge against the crest of your ass. Fucked full, you shudder helplessly through the stretch.

Slow and deep, Hanma grinds into you. Each thrust unsettles you, but behind the ache, your body tightens with something close to pleasure.

Minutes pass at the same steady rhythm as Hanma works himself up, emitting hot grunts and garbled curses as you squeeze the life out of his cock. Awareness of your own body, all the places you aren’t touched, dominates your thoughts. The way your nipples stand erect and aching behind your bra. The way your clit throbs untouched. The way your pussy clenches in envy after each gentle thrust.

Despite all the ways this position leaves you wanting, you moan and writhe around the cock fucking your ass almost as much as you do when Hanma rails your cunt. They’re different sounds. Less pleasure more plea as you pitch your voice up in a subconscious entreaty for Hanma to touch you more, all over, finally give you what you want. You make a show of how needy you are for him.

Beneath the sound of your own moaning, you hear a door close, and every muscle in your body tenses. Hanma seethes as you clamp vice-like around his cock, but you ignore him. Vaguely, you remember your receptionist mentioning she might pop by in order to work on some scheduling today. Was the door closing her coming or going? And either way, did she hear the primal noises coming from your office?

“Be quiet,” you hiss to Hanma, straining your ears to hear more. “I think I hear someone.”

“I’m not the one moaning like a whore,” Hanma taunts.

You reach a hand back to slap at him, which he bats away easily. Pressing onto the small of your back, he forces you down onto the head of the couch, clunking your skull off the wall before you can adjust. Your cheek presses helplessly into the wall where you formerly braced yourself. The new position spreads your ass wider. Hanma takes advantage by grabbing great handfuls on either side and forcing you back onto his cock at a harsher pace than before.

“You’re trying to get us caught,” you scold though it’s closer to a whimper than a proper reprimand.

“Be a good bitch and take it,” Hanma grunts. He emphasizes his point with a sharp slap to your ass, and then another just to watch it jiggle.

Sometimes, you think you might hate him for what he’s reduced you to.

The frantic pace of his hips doesn’t stop after that. If anything, his thrusts become meaner, all brute force as he sinks to the hilt and draws back before you can take a breath. Forehead pressed to the wall, you do as he commands and take it.

You arch your back a little, unable to lie still against the pounding, and something wonderful happens. His balls swing upward, bouncing off your clit. The moan that rips through you is too loud. But you’ve been so deprived all this time, and that quick touch is overpowering.

The next thrust brings his balls swinging back, and then again and again, until you are melting through the couch into a ball of mush. They’re so hot and heavy, battering your pussy relentlessly. Every time Hanma draws back, you almost manage to clear your mind, regain what little’s left of your sanity, but then he pounds into your ass again, and his fat balls slap your achy clit, and you are left with no recourse but to moan, sloppy and spit-soaked into the cradle of your own arms.

“Oh shit,” Hanma groans. “Gonna cum.”

“No, no, not yet! Don’t stop!” you order frantically, all risk long forgotten. “If you keep fucking me like that, I’m gonna cum.”

Hanma tries to slow down to ward off his own orgasm, but you beg him to keep pace, beg him to keep swinging those heavy balls into your clit, so he ups his speed. Behind you, Hanma is probably the picture of agony, reaching for anything to stop him from busting before you reach your own peak.

His suffering means nothing to you. All that matters is your own pleasure.

And it does come. Finally, every muscle seizes and a bloom of pleasure rushes from your clit outwards in seismic waves. Your orgasm milks the cock in your ass and in turn, Hanma’s thrusts strengthen what is already a delicious clitoral orgasm. You sigh through it, dopey smile on your face, all gooey relief.

Hanma cums mere seconds after your orgasm starts. His cock spurts straight into your ass, too tight to pull out and cum anywhere else. He’s twitchy and loud through it, more honest than you’ve ever heard him as pleasure short circuits the sadistic part of his brain that insists on mind games and paranoia. He unburdens all of himself in your ass, and you relish it.

You’re not sure how either of you manage to reposition yourselves on jelly legs, but minutes later, Hanma lies on his back with you draped across him, ass up, so you don’t risk cum dribbling onto the fabric. It’s amazing how well your bodies align like this, your soft parts pressing into his, chin tucked to his shoulder. He fingerpaints with nothing across your back, just swirling his fingertips under your shirt until you relax, no longer worried about your receptionist or anyone outside your bubble.

It is almost a perfect moment.

Almost because you are still seething that he made a mockery of your session today. You should have refused to let him touch you after. It nudges against a sore spot, a point of insecurity from way back during your first session when Hanma challenged your credentials. That you are unqualified or worse, incompetent. It’s a line you’ve heard from your earliest memories.

Most of the time, you convince yourself that you are helping him. Yes, you are trading on your body to get what you want in a way that would make an ethics board collectively faint, but he’s shown progress!

Other times, you worry that he’s stringing you along towards your undoing with you none the wiser. Those are the times when you beg internally for Hanma to touch you, anything to distract yourself from the direction of your thoughts.

“Shuji…am I helping you at all?” you ask. It is the kind of question you can only chance in post coital bliss when your brain is too slow to warn you away from showing vulnerability. You don’t meet his gaze when he peers down to study you.

“I haven’t been this content in a long time. I think that’s thanks to you,” Hanma reassures you.

With the endorphins rushing your brain from all the skin-to-skin contact and the delicious orgasms he grants you, you just about believe him. He’s a special patient. Maybe the nontraditional combination of CBT, mind games, sex, and affection (if you could call it that) is exactly what the doctor ordered.

Hanma is a trickster though, a warrior god born into a world of peace. A man made for the ravages of a battlefield but gone to bed every night in a high-rise apartment. Without the rancor of war, he’s been forced to contort himself into a thousand roles and faces, whatever it tales to find his thrills. Everything about Hanma is an illusion, a carefully deployed farce to get him what he wants. One minute teasing, another gnashing his teeth like a leashed animal, you never know what to expect, which Hanma is real when they all feel so tangible, so all-consuming.

Still, it feels nice to believe in him.

“I know you’re busy tomorrow, but I want you to check out a hotel with me on Sunday,” Hanma says.

“Oh, is that what we’ve been doing? Checking out hotels?”

Hanma grins. “Well, I’m sure we can find time for that too, but this is actually work. We’re two weeks out from our sit down with the HKJ. We haven’t had any issues lately, so I just need to do a final scout of where we’re meeting. Figure I can combine a little work and play by bringing you along. After all, I need to ensure the rooms are up to standard for our honored guests.”

“Oh, naturally,” you agree with your own smile.

Normally, you like to be kept a safe distance from anything approaching Hanma’s business, but the promise of eight-hundred thread count sheets and room service champagne is too good to pass up. When it comes to Hanma, you enjoy being spoiled.

--

November third dawns clear and sunny, a boon for the thousands of parade goers. It’s Culture Day.

Strange how much attention the day commanded when you were a child. Months of planning and committees leading up to the school Culture Festivals. In your last year of middle school, one of your drawings was selected for exhibition, a poorly rendered sketch of Emperor Meiji wearing the sokutai. Once home, your mom threw it out, but for that day, it was showcased with honor alongside all the other children’s pieces.

Now, Culture Day is an opportunity to sleep in and enjoy a home-cooked meal as businesses close their doors. It is the first time in what feels like months that Takashi is home with you for an entire day.

The apartment shrinks to little more than a showroom under the weight of his presence. He’s always standing underfoot, blocking the cabinet when you reach for a bowl or shaving in the powder room when you want to brush your hair. Even when he’s in a different room, like now, as you heat miso soup over the stove and he folds laundry in the bedroom, he makes too much noise to concentrate. He feels like a stranger in your home.

For the most part, things have returned to normal between you two since he first suspected you of cheating. Since his suspicions were correct, you never blamed him for his possessiveness, though you were surprised that he cared enough to snoop around and ask you leading questions for weeks. You are sure he’s cheated on you countless times over the years. And while his actions were those of a jealous lover, Takashi’s demeanor had hinted at something else, something more guarded and passionless.

“I was thinking,” Takashi announces as he strolls back into the kitchen. “I want to turn in early tonight, so that I can head into the office first thing tomorrow, but we should make the most of this time. Let’s take a walk by the river tonight. We can watch the sunset.”

“Really? I figured you’d want to get some work done.”

“I thought about it, but everyone needs a break now and again. You’ve been working just as hard as I have lately, you must be burnt out. What do you say? We could watch a movie together, go for a walk, cook dinner together like we used to,” he urges.

Long faded memories of when you were closer return. There was a time when Takashi would take on simple dishes like the rice, while you flitted around the kitchen, cooking an ornate and always changing menu. Once plated, he would make a point of groaning his appreciation after every first bite. Yours may have never been some great love story, but once, before billable hours consumed Takashi’s life, he offered more than security. There had been those dinners and brunch over a shared Sunday paper, beach trips and making love to the sound of the waves.

Takashi is loyal and reliable. Years of companionship and he never demands more than you can give, seamlessly slotting himself into the gaps where your life and heart can bear to fit another person. He likes you because you offer him the same freedom. Maybe there can be love there, too, if either of you tries just a little harder.

“That sounds nice,” you agree.

Takashi kisses your cheek. It leaves a wet ring on your skin.

“Are you planning to get any work done tomorrow?” Takashi asks.

“Yes, I’m meeting a patient at the Ritz-Carlton tomorrow,” you answer without pause. Several months of lying has taught you the best strategy is to blend fiction with as much truth as possible, so it descends naturally from your tongue.

Takashi whistles. “The Ritz, huh? He must be a wealthy guy to be getting house calls from you there.”

“Yes,” you shrug. “He’s my best paying client actually. He’s there for work and asked to move a session to accommodate his schedule, and I agreed. He’s kind of demanding in terms of wanting the VIP service, but like I said, he pays so…”

You ask after the status of Takashi’s projects in return, and he regales you in full detail about how his accounts are progressing. Unlike you, he can be more forthcoming with details without breaking confidentiality, so long as no names are dropped. It is achingly familiar, and you nod along until Takashi shocks you so greatly, you drop a stirring spoon into the simmering pot of soup.

“I’m thinking it’s about time we buy a house,” Takashi says.

“Pardon?”

“Rent here’s more than a mortgage would be. We buy a house, somewhere nice like Jiyugaoka, and maybe a couple cars, so we can travel around easier.”

“Buying a house? Jiyugaoka? Cars? That’s a lot of money! The down payment alone!” you protest.

“We have plenty in savings.”

“For retirement. For security. We need that money accessible, not tied up in investments,” you argue.

Takashi raises a placating hand, “I’ve got a big account at work right now. If things come together like they should, I’m set to earn a five- or six-million-yen bonus. We could put that right towards a downpayment before we even have to dip into our savings, of which, I’ll remind you, we have plenty.”

The phone rings. Months pass between calls to your landline, so the sudden interruption now feels like an act of God, the caller your personal savior. You round the counter to where the old phone is banked.

“Hello?”

Heavy breathing comes through the other line. When you repeat yourself and receive no response, you move to hang up, but a moan from the receiver stops you. The noise is so needy, shamelessly horny, and you would recognize it anywhere.

Guilty, you cup the receiver as if the sound might travel to Takashi’s ears from across the counter. You engage in a quick, mental debate as to whether you should just hang up anyway, but knowing Hanma, that will only lead to an endless barrage of calls, which risks Takashi answering. Standing in silence is just as suspicious though. Setting your face into a placid mask, you lie through your teeth.

“Yes, this is she,” you say in response to an imaginary conversation.

All you get in return are wet beaths and drawn-out moans. Hanma’s obviously playing it up. He only moans this loudly when he wants to be perverse, wants to embarrass you or drag you into that realm of consequence-less hedonism with him. There is another fainter noise in the background, and you suspect it’s the wet tugging of skin as he jerks off to the sound of your voice.

“Will you need to send someone by to check?” you pretend to ask.

Takashi approaches and mouths, “Who is it?”

“Just the gas company,” you whisper back. “They say there’s some routine maintenance needed in the next six months.”

“You’d think they’d at least let them rest on Culture Day,” Takashi frowns.

You shrug helplessly, only half able to entertain Takashi’s words when Hanma continues to groan whorishly in your ear. It is everything you hate and love about him at the same time.

With a little effort, you keep up the fake conversation even as it extends far too long for a standard call. Thankfully, Takashi returns to the kitchen, only half paying attention as your gas-company-pretense gets sloppy. You’ve repeated that you’ll check your schedule for a day they can come over at least three times already.

Hanma’s pleasure entrances you. Each moan paints an image in your mind’s eye more sinful than the last. Mostly you imagine how he’s abusing himself, the unforgiving fast strokes with a twist at the tip that he favors. You’ve watched him from behind heavy-lidded eyes as he touches himself too many to count. He loves the elongation of pleasure, the denial of you both, teasing and torturing himself as he eyes your naked body but does not touch.

You also imagine what you might do if you were there to help. You have discovered in the last few months that sucking dick isn’t always a chore, that when you hold his gaze as you glide your tongue up and down his length, you would rather be nowhere else.

The images in your mind contrast drastically with the information your eyes send to your brain, mainly Takashi checking on the soup. For the first time, you wonder if maybe you don’t need him anymore. Takashi is a good enough man. You will always be thankful for the security he granted you, but maybe you have outgrown drawing between the lines and staying indoors after dark. Messing around with Hanma is a risk yes, but one that has rewarded you handsomely, and maybe, you could live your life with that same fearlessness moving forward. Live boldly, openly. Live.

Maybe it’s time to let Takashi go.

Hanma cums with an anticlimactic sigh.

“Don’t forget. We have a date tomorrow, Doc,” Hanma says hoarsely.

“Of course, I will see you then,” you agree, letting just the hint of true excitement slip into your voice.

You hang up the phone, wet between your legs from the teasing of another man, and go back to the kitchen to rejoin your boyfriend.

--

Hanma’s singing voice isn’t half bad. Maybe a little flat, but he is confident as he croons an autumnal song. It’s a familiar tune, and you swear he’s getting half the words wrong, but you would need to look it up to be sure.

The hopeful tune blends with the gentle purr of the breeze off the riverfront to create a serene soundscape. You are thankful Hanma recommended a quick detour to walk along the river before you head to the Ritz in Roppongi.

You laugh a bit at the coincidence as you walked a similar path with Takashi just yesterday. Because of the timing, you can’t help but compare your time with both men. The walk with Takashi was picturesque in its way, lots of families outside to enjoy the holiday and the scent of fried foods wafting from the crowds of street vendors that lined the busy thoroughfares. Today’s walk with Hanma is less scenic. The smell of yesterday’s garbage permeates the air, and it rained overnight, creating a layer of mud along the riverbank and bringing its waters to a white froth, but Hanma is talkative, funny today. You feel warm inside for reasons other than the jacket on your shoulders.

Singing as he goes, Hanma all but skips ahead of you, and you rush after, grabbing his hand to keep him by your side. His swallows yours up. Now, you walk hand in hand down the concrete pedestrian bridges by the rushing river.

“What do you think happens when we die?” you ask.

“We on the clock right now, Doc?”

It does sound like the questions you ask to incite him to talk at his most stubborn. But your professional relationship is leagues away from your mind. If anything, this – the handholding, the easy conversation, the river – feels like a proper date. Your first.

“No, I’m just curious what you think. Given your job, it’s got to be something you’ve considered carefully,” you explain.

“Not really. Like I’ve said before, dying never really bothered me, so I never thought about it all that much. I figure it’s probably lights out for good when I go, so best to live it up while I can. Because once you die, it’ll be bye bye fast cars, bye bye whiskey, bye bye the blood of my enemies,” he laughs.

“That tracks.”

“Figure it’s best to think that way in this business anyway. I remember some first division guy back in Toman – can’t remember his name – was always going on about karma this and karma that. Annoying as fuck, and when it came time to knock some heads together, he hesitates, right? Because you can’t hurt someone, really hurt them, if you think all that pain is going to come back around to you someday. Kid got out before it was too late. Think he became a dental hygienist or something.”

“Not much room for religion among murderers, huh?”

Together, you stroll beneath a massive Gingko tree that sprouts from the disturbed and eroded terrain of the riverbank. Too tall to walk beneath it without crouching, Hanma’s head scrapes through the fan-shaped leaves. The brilliant yellow foliage surrounds you for a brief moment, and you feel as if this moment, this closeness to Hanma, might continue forever, like maybe all this talk of death and afterlives is pointless because you will endure from now until the other side of eternity.

“A couple guys actually converted to Christianity,” Hanma tells you. “The ones that needed forgiveness. Some of the nastiest guys on the streets actually. The classic example is Taiju, Hakkai’s brother. Most sadistic freak you’ve ever met, even to his siblings. But there he’d be every Sunday, on his knees with a prayer in his heart, and just like that, all’s forgiven! Pretty good deal. Convenient, too. Do whatever you want because Daddy God still loves you.”

Yuzuha’s haunted expression as she spoke of toxic men returns to you, temporarily dampening your good spirits. You want to ask Hanma what he knows but decide to respect her privacy. Since meeting Yuzuha at the hot springs, you’ve traded text messages a few times a week. This affair with Hanma dominates your waking hours, so that you don’t fully appreciate that this is the first friend you’ve made in years. It helps that she knows about Hanma and can be a supportive ear when you choose to share. In turn, she is freed from the secrecy surrounding her brother’s business and therefore hers. It is a friendship of equals. You can’t wait until she next comes to Tokyo.

You also wish you could get your hands on Shiba Taiju. You could hurt him for putting that pained look in her eye.

“Do you think it’s easier for people to kill when they believe there’s another life, a better world, waiting for the dead?” you ask.

“Dunno, Doc. You’d have to ask someone who cared about that in the first place. Anyway, what about you? You’ve got to have thought this through when your mom died.”

“Not as much as you would think. When she died, I didn’t know what I wanted for her. Would it make me feel better if she has an afterlife of happiness and peace? Or do I want her to suffer? If she were reincarnated, she’d probably be a tree. A tree that all the animals come and pee on. That would be her karma. But do I want that?”

Cynicism and coldness have long formed your shroud, a thin layer of protection from thoughts of your mother. You wait for the instinctive call to these talismans of protection, but they don’t come. You feel free of it.

Hard to concentrate on the past when two crows call out to one another from the branches of a Japanese Maple, red and full of life and color, leaves more vibrant as a wintery death approaches. Whether your mother is at peace or gone forever has no bearing on your life. Either way she can’t hurt you anymore. Either way, the trees will bloom again in the spring.

“Wonder what your dad will reincarnate as when I kill him,” Hanma muses in a voice so humorless it sends a shiver up your spine.

You stop in your tracks, feel a little pull as Hanma keeps walking. Left with no choice but to stop alongside you or drop your hand, Hanma chooses the former, turning back to look at you.

“Shuji…you know I don’t really want you to kill him. I was high and saying things, but I don’t want him dead. If anything, I want to meet him, to get answers. So, if you could find him, that would be…amazing, but don’t hurt him,” you say.

“You sure? I was going to offer you the friends and family discount on the hit. Normally I charge a small fortune,” Hanma teases.

You don’t dare laugh or crack a smile lest Hanma takes that as permission to ignore the seriousness of your words. You want to meet your father. Since promising to find him, Hanma has given you occasional updates on his search. So far, he’s made little progress. Until he finds something concrete, you refuse to hope, but you likewise refuse to see the man dead because you muttered some petty revenge fantasy while high off your ass.

“I’m sure,” you say fiercely.

Hanma sighs and tugs you closer by the hand still grasped in his. Voice an octave deeper than normal, he says, “Not sure what you want with the man anyway. You already have a Daddy.”

Just like that, your body lights up. You’re like those trick birthday candles, the ones that flare back to life over and over again regardless of how many times the birthday girl blows them out. The slightest word or touch, and Hanma brings you back to a blaze that only he can tend.

If those deeply muttered words arouse him in turn, Hanma shows no signs of it, continuing, “Speaking of, I was thinking of buying an investment property near Ueno Station. A three-bedroom single house. Would be a shame to leave it empty. Since it’s so near your office, I thought you might want to stay there.”

“You…you want to be my landlord?” you stutter.

“No, I want to be your Daddy. And that’s what Daddy’s do, right? Provide for their little girls. What do you say?”

His hands rub up and down your sides in a gentle massage that tips your head back, like you’re offering your throat once more for his teeth. It is the second time a man has offered you a house in as many days, and if accepting from Takashi was ill advised, accepting from Hanma is suicidal. At any point, he might turn you out, might die, or have his assets confiscated. Then, what? Found out by the police, they might investigate your relationship and discover your connection, drag you before an ethics committee. It is an awful idea.

But it would mean a kitchen that is just yours, not one shared with Takashi. A place where you could cook a four-course meal, a dining table where you could serve Hanma and watch as he appreciates each and every bite in that unique way he knows how to savor life. For so long, you’ve been cooking only for yourself. It would mean something to cook for Hanma. For Shuji.

It would mean everything.

“I say that you enjoy spoiling me,” you manage, a safe non-answer.

“I do,” he agrees, and it’s far too easy.

“Well, in that case, I’d say it’s a good thing we already have a hotel room waiting for us because I’m in the mood to be spoiled thoroughly.”

When you resume walking, this time in the direction of his parked car, you both move a little faster. After all, you don’t want to wait. Hanma really does know how to spoil you properly.

--

To justify a price point of over two million yen a night, the Presidential Suite must offer some amenities that separate it from the hotel’s still pricy but less bank-breaking Signature Suites. There are a few highlights you notice immediately. The rooms are tastefully appointed in what Japanese businesses always dub a “mix of east and west,” which basically just means western-style furniture with carefully curated art to offer a taste of Japan: decorative plates, flowering vases, prints, and abstracts on the walls. The two bathrooms are massive with great acoustics and tubs large enough to comfortably fit two at the end of a long day. And best of all, there is the view. Poised on the 53rd floor of Midtown Tower, the Presidential Suite’s floor-to-ceiling windows peer out on the western side of the city, offering you the chance to gaze down on the tops of buildings that usually look so tall as you stroll about on the boring old ground. Beyond them, Mt. Fuji rises up in the distance, blue and sprawling.

When you first entered the suite, Hanma fucked you against those windows. Nipples flattened to glass and legs hiked up to grant him access, you had plenty of time to familiarize yourself with the scenery. It felt like falling.

Hanma pulled out when he came, jerking off directly onto those windows as if he was aiming to spray the whole city beneath him.

While on your tour of the Presidential Suite you don’t notice anything worth remotely close to two million yen, you do discover there are no shortage of surfaces for a couple, flexible and looking to fuck, to use.

The next surface you find is Hanma’s face.

The surely luxurious bed is neatly turned down and undisturbed as you opt instead for the cushy armchair in the corner. Hanma lays flat across it, legs dangling at the knee from the matching ottoman, and you sit delicately on his chin, weight tipped forward onto the headrest to avoid smothering him.

He slurps and sucks up your clit with wet squelching sounds that resound in the isolated room. Hanma’s tongue is as nimble as his words, able to agilely shapeshift as the situation calls for it. He laves you with a flat tongue until you positively drip on his face. Beneath you, Hanma groans into the center of your cunt.

Staring at the wall in front of you, the position is not unlike how you ended your last therapy session. Only this time, you have a more interesting view. There is a lovely print of a budding lotus behind the chair, and as you relax into Hanma’s mouth on your clit, you see the pink flower warp and reshape itself into a wet, blooming pussy, unfurling its succulent petals for all to see.

Your breasts ache, so you wrap an arm beneath them to heft them higher. With the other hand, you mold one, then the other, tweaking your nipples gently and then rubbing in deep circles until your back arches under the dual sensations.

Lifting your hips up, so that you are momentarily bereft, Hanma huffs out, “Sit on my face for real. Suffocate me with it.”

At first, you try to resist his order, using your arms to hold your weight slightly off his face, but Hanma grips your ass and forces your body down hard, and you can’t fight the combination of strength and gravity.

You sit on his fucking face.

Fully seated, you are at first unsure what to do, though Hanma wastes no time. His tongue darts its way around your center, licking out the wetness there and then fucking it back inside you while his nose nudges your clit. That tongue buried in your slit feels delicious as always, but you worry about whether he can breathe or if your weight puts too much pressure on his neck. Then, Hanma does something sinful, twisting his tongue to reach a sensitive place inside you, and instinct takes over. You grind back and forth on his face, each slide of your hips helping his tongue to reach new pleasure spots. The grind rubs your clit over his nose with an insistent pressure that makes your eyes roll back.

In this position, where you can’t make out more than Hanma’s forehead buried between your thighs, it feels like he exists for your pleasure and your pleasure alone. Like a toy. No different than breaking out the vibrator from your bedside table to make yourself cum. That’s how you use him now, without a care for his comfort.

After a minute, Hanma’s hand slaps your thigh, and he lifts your weight up and off. He gasps for breath, red-faced and drenched from nose to chin in your wetness.

“Fuck, just like that,” he chokes out when he regains his breath. “Use me to get off. Ride my face until you cum.”

Tight from your nipples to your clit, you don’t need to be told twice. You lower yourself back down onto his face. All the way. This time, he doesn’t tonguefuck your pussy but lays his tongue flat and long, so when you grind your hips up and down, you drag your clit from his hard nose down to his wet tongue and back in a slick, relentless slide.

He doesn’t moan around you now, can’t afford to expend the oxygen. But you know he is turned on by the wet slap of his cock as he jerks it feverishly in time to how you ride his face. Both of you feed off the other’s respective pleasure until your bodies reach a fever pitch of passion.

Hanma slaps at your tight again, like he needs air, but you don’t slow down, begging him instead, “Just a bit more. Please don’t stop. Just a bit longer, and I’ll cum. Please, baby, feels so good.”

Suffocated and fading fast, Hanma gives into your pleas all the same. He doesn’t stop jerking his cock even as you writhe above him, hips twitching and weight heavy on his tongue.

You break in a wet gush.

The second you signal you’re cumming with a garbled wail, Hanma forces your hips back, so that he can suckle your clit fully into his mouth. Nose free, he breathes heavily, and his golden eyes stare up at you, pupils blown black.

It is a long orgasm. Hanma’s mouth around your clit wrings wave after impossible wave of sensation from your body. And he moans, like all that bliss belongs to him.

He cums moments later, spilling against his own thighs and releasing little grunts that are muffled by the lips of your cunt.

When it is over, calves shaking as you squat above his face, wrecked with juices smearing his lips, chin, and nose, you can’t help but giggle, imagining meeting with the hotel staff after this. They would be scandalized by the ruined mess of his handsome face if he didn’t wipe it off.

As you climb off Hanma’s lap, your eyes doubletake on the impressive bureau opposite the bed. There, hidden amongst the remotes and typical hotel amenities is a cellphone, propped up and pointing in your direction.

“Shuji, what’s that?” you ask, pointing at the offending phone.

“What’s what?”

The strength returns to your legs, and you shove off towards the bureau. Snatching the phone up, you confirm your worst suspicions when you see it is recording you. You stop it and watch the record of what just happened. The saved video captures too much: the naked stretch of your body, the side of your face as you scrunch up in pleasure, the moans that spilled out unbidden.

“You recorded us!” you snap.

“I’ve always wanted to see what you look like when you sit on my face. Bet it was freaking hot,” Hanma says, shrugging and all too comfortable despite being naked with his own cum drying on his thighs and yours still tangy in his mouth.

“You can’t have this,” you say firmly, deleting the video without waiting for his permission. “This could ruin my fucking life, Shuji. You cannot under any circumstances keep pictures or videos or freaking audio recordings of our time together. Do you understand?”

Hanma yawns along with a nod, standing to clean himself up, and you follow him with a stomp in your step to the bathroom.

“Is this the first time? Do you have recordings of me already?” you demand.

“Nope. First time.”

You narrow your eyes at his back, where a little cluster of moles congregate innocently beneath a shoulder blade. He is a master trickster, and you don’t believe him.

“I don’t believe you. I’m looking through your gallery,” you announce.

Lightning-fast, Hanma rips the phone from your hand. You can’t even mount a defense as it’s there and gone.

“Don’t ever ever look through my phone. There are things in here that if you see, you die. Don’t forget who the fuck I am,” Hanma snarls.

For a moment, you think he is furious with you for refusing him this new toy, but then you spot a hint of concern and realize Hanma may not be exaggerating. It may not be him who puts a bullet between your eyes to protect the secrets hidden on this phone; he might not be able to protect you.

“Just…if you have photos of me, delete them. And don’t do it again,” you concede tightly.

Hanma nods, and this time, you do believe him.

Despite your little altercation, Hanma is languid in the aftermath of his two orgasms, forthcoming as he tells you what to expect from the upcoming HKJ meeting. The Deputy Mountain Master – the second in command of the HKJ – will be in attendance. He will stay in the best room in the hotel: the Ritz-Carlton suite. By some accounts, it’s the most expensive hotel room in the world. As the room is currently occupied by a foreign head of state, Hanma can’t personally inspect it, so he settled for the second-best room in the place. It will be the White Paper Fan – basically the Koko of the HKJ, Hanma explains – who stays there.

It turns out, Hanma’s not here just to test the quality of the room. After a much-needed shower, he makes a thorough sweep of the entire place, checking under furniture, peering into vases, knocking on the walls. As he works, he records his actions into a voice memo on his phone. Right before the HKJ arrives, Bonten’s security team will return to do a final sweep of the room, using Hanma’s voice memo as a roadmap of what to do.

Once finished, you walk out – clean and dressed without a hint of the last hour’s activities to give you away – into the club lounge.

The Ritz is one of the most secure places in the city. Occupying the top nine floors of Midtown Tower, any assault – whether a would-be assassin or police raid – would be easily headed off in the elevator or stairwells. That’s why rather than book the hotel’s meeting rooms on the first and second floor, Bonten doled out to book the entire fifty-third floor, all the suites as well as the club, where VIP guests would normally take their tea and meals or lounge over impeccable views of the city. For the two nights of negotiations, the longue will be converted into a meeting space for these two criminal titans to meet.

A staff member joins you for the tour of the club lounge. Rather than the smartly dressed woman you might have expected, the events coordinator is hulking and bald-headed, answering Hanma’s questions in a direct, military manner. You wonder if he knows who and what Hanma is, what he represents.

The man trails behind as Hanma conducts the same thorough investigation of the club space, starting with the reception area and library. As they walk, the two men discuss the itinerary, exits, meal and drink preparations, and other minutiae. All staff, whether in the club or elsewhere in the hotel on the day of the negotiations, have submitted to background checks. Hanma idly flips through dossiers on the kitchen staff and lectures your guide on the importance of no call-offs on the night of as replacement staff will not be tolerated.

Watching Hanma work, chameleon-like, is fascinating. He blends well into polite society. Stone-faced so as to give nothing away, the people he interacts with are left with a blank wall to project against, assuming his disinterest to be a sign of money and affluence. They strain to impress him. There is no need for intimidation tactics or bribery.

Well, you’re sure there was some bribery.

Guests mill about the club. You catch snippets of languages you don’t recognize as well as the occasional familiar English word. Mostly businessmen, they spend as much time looking at their phones as the grand view out the full-length windows. Dressed in your professional attire, you don’t stand out at first glance, but neither can you truly blend in with this mythical class of world elites. Funnily enough, Hanma has never sparked such a fidgety inferiority in you. Hanma may sport the same Rolexes as these businessmen, but there’s a back-alley grit that clings to him like a fine layer of dust, forever marking him as one of you, a man from humble origins no matter how high he climbs.

In the dining room, a tidy woman in a yellow kimono leads the guests through an afternoon tea ceremony. A small crowd of mostly foreigners forms around her. You fall behind Hanma as he continues to the other side of the room, enchanted by how elegantly and precisely the woman pours the tea into shallow bowls.

“Beautiful, isn’t it?”

You startle at the unexpected voice from behind your right-shoulder and take a step forward. As you turn to greet the stranger, mastering your heartrate, that startle transforms into full-blown fear. Haitani smiles down at you.

Now, you scramble back several more steps until you bump into a dining chair. Casting about, you don’t see Hanma, but that doesn’t mean he can’t see you, speaking to his hated rival.

Haitani doesn’t close the distance between you. He doesn’t need to. His aura is such that you’d need to leave the room entirely to escape it. A casual, claustrophobic control that surges past your defenses and narrows your vision to him and only him. All with nothing but a bland smile, like it’s all one grand coincidence.

He lets you sweat, literally sweat, as the silence lingers before he finally, eyes still fixed to the tea ceremony, comments, “I was disappointed to not hear from you. I’ll admit, I’m usually a better judge of character. I thought you would call.”

“I wouldn’t dream of troubling a busy person such as yourself with my piddling thoughts,” you say evasively.

You look for Hanma again, not sure if the best scenario is one where you find and warn him of Ran’s presence or one where you play ignorant. Without question, the worst-case scenario is one where Hanma finds you like this.

Behind Haitani are two tall men. Bodyguards, you realize. It had surprised you at first that Hanma moved so freely in the world without any protection, uncommon for a man of his station. Then, you met him and realized he couldn’t bear to be tied down, babysat, would resent the bodyguards from keeping the trouble away when he craved it. Clearly, Haitani values his life as something more precious. He does not plan to die today, and yet he has chosen to confront you when Hanma is a shout away. You don’t know what that means, what trump card he has up his sleeve, but he must be confident in more than just his hired muscle to pull a stunt like this.

“You could never trouble me, Doctor,” Haitani says pleasantly. “I think anyone who can withstand the company of my old friend must be an interesting person. I’m sure your thoughts would be anything but menial.”

“Well…”

“What the fuck is this?”

Hanma strides forward, covering the distance between you in only a few steps. Hand on your elbow, he yanks you a half-step behind him, pressed tight to his side as he squares up against Haitani. You search his face for any clue as to what he saw, what he heard, but your only clue is the tick in his jaw. He is furious but whether at you, Haitani, or both, you can’t guess.

It unsettles you to realize Haitani is a few key centimeters taller. Add the hired muscle behind him, and you calculate that it is only the social expectation of maintaining the peace in such a fine establishment that protects you both from Haitani.

“Funny meeting you here,” Hanma snarls.

“Not funny at all. Great minds think alike after all,” Haitani replies.

His tone is so impossibly pleasant and affable that your hindbrain screams: something is wrong, predator, predator. All the signals that should have warned you away from Hanma ages ago but that remained stubbornly silent are now awake. You aren’t afraid of Hanma. You are terrified of Haitani.

Haitani continues, “I’m here to make sure everything’s in working order as well. You see, I’ve been hired by our mutual friends in Hong Kong to serve as a liaison for the upcoming meeting. They wanted someone on the ground to manage security, make sure their side of things is represented. You understand.”

“I fucking knew it. Look who finally grew a pair and wants back in the ring,” Hanma laughs, a mouthful of teeth as he taunts his rival. His fingers dig into the bone of your wrist, unthinkingly grinding the bones together like you are nothing but a stress ball. Haitani’s eyes track the moment, missing nothing.

“Hmm, well, I wouldn’t say that. You needn’t worry as we’re to be partners after all. Everyone working on the same team towards the same goal. I’ve already been in contact with Kisaki, and he knows all about it. You can check with him if you like.”

“I will,” Hanma promises darkly, but he’s still smiling and so is Haitani. “Hey, how much would it cost to get the coward of Roppongi to come out from under his hole and play with the big dogs anyway? If our “friends in Hong Kong” have that kind of money, we may need to up our demands.”

“Oh, Hanma, I look forward to working with you. For old times’ sake,” Haitani says, and you swear the air cools by three degrees even as Haitani’s expression never falters.

“Old times’ sake? Why not? Let’s take this outside for old times’ sake. A friendly spar! It’s been so long since you did anything useful besides sign other men’s payroll, you could use the practice. I’m afraid a baton won’t do the trick nowadays. Doesn’t exactly strike fear in a man’s heart,” Hanma giggles.

Haitani sighs, “I appreciate you offering to assist me, but, unfortunately, I’m on the clock. Besides, you wouldn’t want her to watch that now, would you?”

Your name slips from Haitani’s lips pleasantly like all his words do, but they have the effect of a curse, sucking the air from the room and leaving you breathless. He makes your name sound familiar. For the first time since the conversation began, Hanma looks at you, like he’s seeing something there for the first time, and you resist the urge to shake your head or explain yourself. Not while Haitani is watching.

The event coordinator who showed Hanma around earlier calls out Haitani’s name, approaching with the promise of giving him a tour as well. Haitani steps away from you both, bodyguards flanking him without a word.

“Well, I need to be going. I look forward to working with you, Hanma. And, Doctor, it was a pleasure to see you again,” Haitani calls over his shoulder as he walks away.

‘To see you again.’

Those words echo between you and Hanma as you stand together in silence. They continue to echo like an accusation as Hanma finishes the inspection in a sour mood, barking out terse orders and brimming over with restrained violence. Those words echo louder in the elevator afterwards, fifty-two floors passing without a word spoken between you. They echo like a warning as you part outside the hotel.

The next day, Hanma doesn’t call. And now, the words echo between you from across the city. They echo like a threat.

[w1ll0w-w1spsss2]

I quivered as I felt the first finger prod at my holes. First in my slick cunt, then my tight asshole. I whined as one finger, then two pushed their way into my ass. I reached back to spread my cheeks apart so the man playing with me could see every part of his plaything.

“Look how good you’re stretching for me! We’ll have a full fist in there before you know it!” He said, pushing a third finger in my hole.

I gasped, the thought of a whole FIST in me absolutely outrageous! And quite impossible. How could I fit a whole fist inside my ass??

I heard him squirt lube onto his fingers and felt him work the substance into my ass.

One. Two. Three. FOUR.

* * *

His fingers pumped in and out of my ass rhythmically as he sucked my clit, edging me over and over. Each time my tight hole managed to somehow get tighter around his digits, his knuckles dove in deeper and his tongue left my pussy untouched.

“You keep getting close. If you cum, you’re gonna have to take the rest of my fist love” he said as he smirked at me

I made feeble attempts to say I couldn’t, he was too big! How could I take a whole fist in my ass??? But it was no use

His lips once again were on my clit and his fingers pumped in and out of my ass. He was in all the way to the base of his knuckles, and suddenly I started to feel that familiar pressure building.

I could feel myself clenching around him as the pressure grew, my legs started to tremble, and then my whole body, only this time he didn’t pull away, just kept his mouth and fingers steady

I attempted to say I was cumming, but nothing came out of my mouth but guttural moans. I could feel my asshole clenching down on his fingers and my cunt flutter around nothing as my orgasm rippled through my body. I gripped his hair in my hands, attempting to keep his mouth right in that sweet spot as I bucked my hips

Still riding out the sensation, I suddenly felt a fifth finger poke at my entrance

“No, ‘s too much” I slurred

“Oh but darling, you already agreed… can’t back down now!”

The fifth finger slid in, and suddenly my ass felt like it was on fire

* * *

“I can’t believe you’ve cum with my fist in your ass!” He said as he continued to pump his hand in me

He slid in and out easily at this point, working his hand in till the wrist. The mixture of lube and cum kept my ass slick and wet, and After continuous edging and orgasms without any let up, my ass was a tingling mess

I started to realize the feeling I had wasn’t an incoming orgasm though

“I need to piss” I tried to say, but it came out a grumbled whine, so I tried again. “I need to piss”

A wicked grin formed on his face, and he started pumping his fist harder as he pressed down on my lower abdomen

“Alright then, piss!” I groaned as I couldn’t help but release all over him and myself. He began to laugh at me as he pulled his fist out, and plunged back in

He continued like this through a few more orgasms, until it seemed he was getting tired.

“Alright, I need a bit of a break, but don’t worry, I have the perfect thing to keep you stupid for me, spread your ass”

I obeyed and pulled my ass cheeks apart. I heard the buzz of a vibe being turned on and very quickly felt the head of a thick hitachi pop into my stretched hole