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hazelfoureyes · 11 months ago

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The Radio Demon fucks a Human Sacrifice (a Valentino production)

⟢ part1♡̶sidestory♡̶part2♡̶part3♡̶part4 ⟣

Valentino has acquired a living, breathing human in hell. But at the begging of Angel, Alastor makes a deal in exchange for her soul.

tags: Alastor x reader, smut, dubcon, mentions of assault (Val intended to "fuck you to death”), Val's existence, overstimulation, forced (?) orgasms, bondage (shadow tentacles), choking (sexy kind, not murdery kind), cervix wrecked, your aunt is a bitch

(author's note: I've been in Japan for like 7 years and my English has suffered, but your fucking smutty writing on this site has inspired me to write for the first time in years.)

Minors DNI

Angel burst into the hotel lobby, winded. “Please, you gotta do somethin’!”

To the surprise of everyone, he ran straight to Alastor, tears forming in his eyes.

“Val’s gonna hurt her real bad. I don’t know who else to ask, please. I can't—-“ he cradled his head in his hands, “I can't watch him break any more people.”

Alastor didn’t seem to react at first, but Charlie appeared at Angel’s side and pulled him into a hug, “Angel, take a deep breath. He’s gonna hurt who? What’s wrong?”

“He got a new soul. Some fucking cultist offered her up as sacrifice. But she's not dead yet Charlie—- he dragged her down here alive.” His voice cracked, “He wantsta— he said he’s gonna fuck her to death on camera and wait for her to respawn in hell. He’s convinced he’ll make a fortune off the tapes. Please, for fuck’s sake someone has to do something.”

A human in hell? Well, that was something interesting after all. With a raised brow Alastor spoke, “And how exactly can I help this poor, unfortunate soul?”

“Make a deal or– rip his arms off, I don’t fuckin’ know! There has to be something you can offer Val worth her soul. I’d give you my soul if I could!”

Well that’d be worthless.

But a human? A living, breathing human? Intriguing.

“Alastor you have do something. This isn't right! Hell isn’t for the living.” Charlie’s hair flew upward as her eyes flashed red for a second, “I’ll repay it somehow.”

Well there's no harm in taking a look.

The demons and sinners who saw Alastor walking into the Vee’s tower oscillated between fleeing for their lives and live tweeting the event. Either a truce or a war would be breaking out and they knew they’d be fucked regardless.

“Alastooor”, Val exhaled, letting the name drag out lazily, “Come to ruin something, I’m sure.” Val hadn’t seen Alastor since his fight with Vox 7 years ago, and he hadn’t expected to see him in his studio— ever.

“Ha! No, not today. Word got around that there's a special little guest hidden in your studio.” Alastor’s eyes darted about the room, uninterested in the various parts and bits of the actors changing.

Val glanced at Angel, who’d suspiciously returned some 30 minutes before Alastor appeared.

“I didn’t say nothing, Val.” Angel’s hands went up in defense. “He came to me askin’ about her.”

“And what exactly do you want with my “little guest”?” Val dropped any pretense of politeness.

Alastor leaned forward on his microphone, and with a pop of static he practically cooed, “To see the poor creature, of course.”

Val ashed his cigarette into a cameraman’s hair and walked off, “Fuck it, sure. She’s back here.”

The back room was dark, perhaps some would call it mood lighting but what mood exactly it conveyed fell somewhere between dungeon and power outage.

You sat on your knees in the center of a round bed. Arms held above your head by a large clip attached to wrist restraints. Your body swayed slightly, a long rope anchored to the ceiling and tied to the clip above you. Your body was slightly suspended, knees barely making contact with the bed beneath you. The white nightgown you wore was bloodied and ripped at the collar, causing it to slip down your left shoulder. Jaw clenched, your eyes were covered with a red satin tie.

Alastor took the scene in. Your lip was cut and swollen, bruises peppered your cheek and exposed shoulder. Yet, you were breathing heavily, like a bull about to rush them. You were clearly defenseless, but somehow still defiant. His smile grew to his ears. It had been decades since he had a human in such a prone state.

“Have you …. broken her in yet?” He asked delicately, eyes never leaving your face.

“Nah, just roughed her up a little. I want to capture her raw reaction on camera when she takes her first demon cock.” Valentino clenched his fist to emphasize the word “first”.

Your head fell forward as you pulled down on your wrist restraints, a growl rising in your throat.

Alastor felt his breath get caught in his own, your nightgown riding slowly up your legs as you struggled.

“Hey!” Val snapped his fingers in your direction. “Don’t embarrass me. Our guest came to see you. He’s considering making an offer for you, I’m sure, so say hello like a good girl.” Val rolled his eyes, “Sluts always fucking embarrassing me.”

You tried to gather enough saliva to speak, finding the taste of blood still on your tongue. “Fuck you and your friend.” barely made it from your chapped lips. When was your last drink of water? Last meal? How long had you been unconscious before this all began?

“Not friends.” Alastor was quick to retort, “The name’s Alastor, my dear. It’s a pleasure.”

You sneered, a pleasure? What a sick joke.

“Alastor.” you repeated it, disdain dripping from your lips.

The absolute contempt with which you said his name did something to him. His eyes darted from your mouth back to your inner thighs, exposed from the rising dress. Your mouth was so rude but your body looked so sweet. A little lamb– no, a doe.

“Say it again.” It wasn’t a request, Alastor himself was surprised to hear himself say it with such demand.

You thrashed. “Oh is that what gets you off? You wanna hear your name in my mouth?” You said mockingly. “You’re just as FUCKED as him.” The nightgown rode up even further. Alastor’s tongue stuck to his teeth as his mouth went dry. Had you been delivered to Val without panties? Offered to him in just this sheer cotton night dress? What was happening to him…

Static bit your skin as a low hum filled the room.

“Say it.” Alastor’s voice dropped an octave, eyes suddenly taking on a slight glow. You couldn’t see the danger before you, but you felt it. Something primal in you knew you were in the presence of a predator.

No, you couldn’t see him, but his presence was pressing in all around you.

“Alastor.” You seethed, “ALASTOR.” Pulling down on the restraints yet again you tried to find the strength to stand, “ALASTOR! ALASTOR!!” Your legs buckled under you having gone numb hours ago, his name devolving into a gutteral scream. All of your anger and despair ripped from your chest as you shouted his name. The nightgown had now ridden to your hips but you couldn’t find an ounce of shame in you to care.

You were so full of rage, so defiant still. You were so…. alive.

He felt the blood rushing to his crotch in an all together forgotten sensation, and knew immediately his decision. “Let’s make a deal.” His eyes didn’t leave you, but Valentino knew he was talking to him.

Val let out a laugh, “I have some time to waste while they finish the set. Why not.”

Seated in his personal quarters, Val motioned for Alastor to sit opposite him. You had been left in the dark of that room, only knowing you were alone when the static died down and the hair on the nape of your neck relaxed.

“Listen, Radio Demon. There’s nothing you have that could tempt me to hand over the little bitch.” His long arms rested over the back of his sofa, a heart shaped puff of smoke leaving his lips. Alastor swatted at the air as it approached.

“What do you even need her for? You don’t deal in souls, but flesh. Surely you can find another toy to break on camera.” Alastor waved his microphone away.

“Hmm”, Val brought a finger to his chin in thought, seriously considering what Alastor could possibly offer him. “Oooh, I know.” His head lolled to the side, “People have seen me fuck a thousand times. But no one’s ever even seen you with a partner. ‘Radio Demon fucks human sacrifice’” He motioned from left to right as if reading the words off an imaginary marquee, “Now THAT would make money. Real money. Fuck GOD levels of money.” A red liquid leaked from his lips as they were stretched across clenched teeth, his hips involuntarily humped at the air, “oh fuck. Yes. You do the porn, and I’ll give her to you. Soul and body.”

Alastor was looking at Val but his mind was still in front of you, his name tumbling from your lips. The uninterrupted skin where your thighs met your hips. The desperation in your scream. How absolutely soft and fragile you were. He adjusted his hips, trying to calm the twitching of his cock at the thought of you helplessly before him.

“What exactly are you proposing?” His fingers came to rest entwined on his knee, one leg over the other.

“First, I have full rights to the video to do as I please.” Val counted out on his fingers, “The porno has to show penetration. No dry humping or some bullshit like that. I need you fucking that whore if I’m gonna sell this shit. Aaand”, A sickening grin grew on Valentino’s face, “She has to cum. And I’ll know if she’s faking it. If you don’t manage all three, the deal is off. I keep the human and all rights to the video for per— no, *in* pep-“ he sputtered, “perpur- forever! Fuck.”

Alastor’s default grin was now so wide his gums could be seen peeking past his lips, his eyes flashing to dials, “It’s a deal.” He extended his hand to Valentino as he stood. A green light was shining from the open palm but Val shook it regardless, confident the deal's conditions wouldn’t be met. He’d seen a lot of fucked up shit on his set, but the Radio Demon, famously uninterested in sex, wasn’t going to make a battered human cum. How stupid could Alastor be, he thought. And he’ll have the video of Alastor failing to please someone to broadcast all over the pride ring and beyond. “May I have a moment alone with her before the filming?”

Val rolled his eyes, “yeah but don’t fuck her off camera.”

The sudden feeling of a hand on your hip startled you so intensely you let out a yelp.

“Hello, my little doe.” Hot breath tickled the shell of your ear, then your neck, then your collar bone… “Unfortunately your shoot will still continue today. But if you do as I say, I promise you’ll leave the studio alive.”

You felt the nightgown being tugged back down your hips, hiding your exposed sex.

“I will be taking that pompous moth’s place. I will be as gentle as I can, but he will want to see you suffer. You must still fight me, must act pained. Can you play along?”

Your eyes darted behind your eyelids. He sounded— gentle? His voice was soft against your skin. Maybe he was truly the lesser evil of the two. You nodded. You’d heard all the gory details of what the other demon had planned for you, this sounded infinitely more tolerable. You dare thought you’d suffered worse before.

“And, one more little caveat, darling. I will bring you to orgasm, so please don’t fight so hard as to delay your release.”

You hadn’t realized you’d been holding your breath until his words punched you in the gut.

“I-“

“Yes?” Alastor’s mouth was nearly on your neck, his smile ghosting your skin.

“I’ve never—- I mean I can only do that by myself. No one else has managed to-“

A large hand patted your head, cutting your train of thought off. How big was he? His hands could palm a basketball. Could he really be gentle? Was he capable of it? Were those hands going to be on you soon? Your mind was running away with the thought of this strange demon fucking you on camera.

“Oh don’t worry about that. Just focus on your performance. We have to put on a good show!”

Angel was practically chewing his fingers off as he watched the crew finish the set.

“Alastor what the fuck, I thought you were gonna help her!”

“I am, my effeminate friend. Have a little faith in me.” He adjusted his bowtie and took his place on set.

“I have none. I have negative faith, Alastor. Fuuuuck”, Angel slumped against the wall behind him and sank to the floor.

The stage was set. A red sigil was painted on the floor of a cabin, candles lit around the room as the only source of light (except the stage lighting hanging above the scene). Of the three walls they’d made, the far left wall had an altar haphazardly filled with flowers, a golden bowl, and small plaid satchel.

Someone — something? — led you by the restraints to the stage. Blindfolded, you were pushed down to the floor, forced to sit on your still numb legs. The leather cuffs on your wrist were unbuckled, allowing you to flex your hands. When you reached for the blindfold a hand smacked at yours.

“No no, keep it. I want you to look exactly how I found you.” The familiar voice of Val instructed.

Someone handed a script to Alastor, but he pulled his hands away from the demon as if the paper itself was an angelic weapon, “Oh, no thank you. That won’t be necessary.”

“I’ll tell you what to say” Val said, clearly to you.

“It’s—- it’s fine. I’ll just do it like before. I don’t need any help.”

You really didn’t. There was no improv needed. You could repeat exactly what you said yesterday evening when you awoke on the floor of an unfamiliar place. You’d been visiting your aunt one moment, and alone in a weird room what felt like moments later. Groggy, but alert enough to know something bad had happened.

You heard “action”, and then silence. You could feel eyes on you.

“Aunt Sara….” You whispered. “I don’t understand what’s happened… Are you still there?” You rubbed your wrists trying to regain some blood flow, readjusting your legs to do the same.

You heard a strange sound, both yesterday and now.

“Aunt Sara isn’t here. She’s made an exchange, she gets extraordinary power….and I get your soul.” The way Alastor said it, the way his breath seemed to almost hitch, surprised you. Something cold touched your ankle, causing you to flinch, “But I want more than that. I need more than that.”

You felt that something-unknown snake up your leg toward your center. Crawling backwards on your butt to create some distance you collided with the altar. The golden bowl rolled to the edge and spilled its contents across the table. You could smell the iron tang of blood before you felt the pitter patter on your shoulder. Alastor inhaled quickly before letting the air back out with as much control as he could manage.

“Who are you?!” You’d asked this already. But this time the disembodied voice of your captor replied, “Alastor, the Radio Demon! Pleasure to meet you.”

The right side of your face smacked against the floor of the makeshift cabin as you were dragged suddenly across the room and into the red sigil. The cold appendage on your leg now tightly coiled up your calf.

“No— you have to fuck her with your fucking dick! You can’t use shadow tentacles!” Val shouted, nearly falling out of his chair.

“Now now, the deal didn’t specify with what, only that penetration must occur. Plus, I won’t show up on your video recording device anyway.” Alastor took several steps back, ensuring he was not in frame, “Rest assured, your audience will know it is me.” His words cracked and stuttered like someone had changed the station midway through his sentence.

A small, “fine, whatever.” was grumbled and the scene continued, the tentacle snaking its way up your thigh as Alastor chuckled softly at how you flinched against him.

You rolled onto your stomach and tried to kick off the shadow but it held firm. Letting out a groan you used your hands to drag yourself back towards the altar. Before you could reach the table your other leg felt the pressure of a new tentacle twist around your knee as you were dragged back toward the Radio demon once again.

Your nightgown was forced up, your ass now exposed and in the air as your legs were pulled open. That was as far as you had really gone yesterday, before a flash of light delivered you into the Pentagram City studio.

Surprisingly, you felt embarrassed, self conscious knowing there were other people in this room. But as if he could read your mind, or perhaps just noticed the tremble in your legs, Alastor softly said, “It’s only us now, darling. There’s nowhere to hide.”

Third and fourth appendages appeared around your waist and neck. Effortlessly your hips were lifted off the floor, your cunt on full display to the man who now owned you. The tentacle on your neck slipped between your shoulder blades and pressed your chest firmly to the floor. You squirmed and struggled against the restraints but only accomplished to draw another chuckle from Alastor.

“Relax. We have forever, after all. We can take our time.”

You felt pressure at your entrance, and your pleas to stop were cut short as a shadow tentacle pushed its way inside you. It was cold, but quickly began to warm as your heat enveloped it. Your body was resisting it, too tight to take it all in one thrust, but you could feel it slick against your lips easily enough to make its way inside.

“Ooh, my dear, your wet little cunt betrays you.” He cocked his head to the side, antlers doubling then tripling in size, “Have my words affected you so much?”

You could feel the tentacle’s shape shift slightly inside you as if it were adjusting to you and not the other way around. True to his word, there was no pain except from the burning stretch of your hole against the girth of his shadow self.

Hissing, you thrashed against the sigil, “get OFF OF ME!” Pushing against the floor you barely got your shoulders an inch off the ground when you felt a nth appendage graze sloppily over your clit. You stilled, suddenly remembering your end of the deal. Your promise to the demon now circling your clit with his shadow. If you couldn’t do this, then the entire filming was for nothing.

“Don’t forget to breath. I can’t have you dying on me just yet, sweetheart.” The static was slowly building in the air around you again, a silent threat.

Your hand shot to your mouth, trying to smother the depraved sounds being fucked out of you. The tentacle in your pussy was now ramming against your cervix, curving and bending as it repeatedly forced its way in and out of you. The room was quiet, except for the slick, sticky sound of the tentacle coated in your fluids pulling nearly completely out of you before smashing back in. The pace was slow and cruel, but the pressure on your clit was fast and hard. Your mind was starting come undone, your thoughts splintering. You couldn’t focus on anything anymore, all over your body was pressure, pleasure, massaging, pushing, and pulling.

“Ah ah, that won’t do.” Alastor practically sang the words as an appendage pulled your hands from your mouth and brought them to the small of your back.

You whimpered, trying to find a balance between the overstimulation and the need to not let them see how much you were getting off on this. You needed to hate it more. Hate him more. Your cheek stuck to the wood of the floor as drool leaked from your open mouth, unable to keep it closed any longer.

“I’ll—” Your strength was nearly gone, but you managed to knock your upper body around the sigil, smearing the still wet blood across your chest. You only managed to whisper into the flooring a quiet, “I’ll fucking kill you for this.”

The tentacles stopped, for a second you felt tears sting your eyes at the loss of friction. A loud screech made you wince, but you had no time to question it as your body was violently flipped. Your hips were slammed down onto the ground, held tightly by a tentacle around your waist. The back of your head ached as it was jostled in the turn. The shadows on your thighs now seemed determined to bruise you as they constricted around your skin.

“What was that, dear?” The tentacle in your pussy seemed to swell inside you, the force of the thrusts picking up in intensity. He was ramming into your body with such fervor you felt the skin of your ass chaffing on the wooden grain beneath you. “Speak up, now”, you heard him exhale forcefully, his controlled appearance hanging on by a thread.

“I-”, your mouth opened to continue your resistance when a new sensation stopped you. A second tentacle was trying to squirm its way into your heat, just above the now uncomfortably thick one twisting around inside of you. The pressure on your stomach from the force made you feel sick, but the devoted ministrations on your clit had your legs twitching against the restraints. “Ah–! no, wai-” It managed to slip itself into you, and with no hesitation it was pressing against your g-spot in a matching rhythm to the tentacle swiping over your swollen clit.

You’d never before made a sound like the one that was pulled from your throat. It was ugly and animalistic and took you by surprise. Still struggling to catch your breath, you threw your head back. You were losing control. As your body was rocked against the ground, the blindfold got caught in the friction and slipped down your nose.

Bringing your head back up, you finally locked eyes with your new master.

“Alas-” Another chilly tentacle came to your neck and began to lightly squeeze. You could only breathe out the rest of his name as your eyes met with his. He stood some feet from you, just outside of the sigil, barely on the set at all. He seemed nonplussed, antlers looming over you and suit perfectly neat, except one detail. His pupils dilated when you finally set your eyes onto his. The grip on your neck only stopped tightening when you stomped your foot down in fear of passing out. You didn’t break eye contact, a fire burning in you that told him no matter what he did you wouldn’t be broken. That look in your eyes, the contempt mixed with overwhelming pleasure made Alastor shift one foot in front of the other in an effort to better conceal the erection straining against the zipper of his pants.

“Mmmhhh–” You finally broke contact as your eyes rolled back into your head, the pressure beneath your belly was building, a tightness threatening to snap. But this wasn’t like before, this wasn’t like when you were alone in your bed with your own hand. It felt like too much, your heart was pounding so hard you thought you’d really die. There was no way your body could continue this much longer, your heart would surely give out.

“Please–” You needed him to stop, the ghostly hand on your throat, the two tentacles pressing against your cervix and g-spot, the unrelenting pressure on your clit. It was too much, it was too sensitive. “I’m sorry, please. Pleeea-” you gritted your teeth, thighs twitching as the muscles in your core tightened.

“Going to cum, my little doe?” Through gritted teeth of his own Alastor asked you as if you had any choice in the matter. He forced your knees up to your shoulders, allowing the tentacles to reach new depths.

“AaaaHH” You convulsed, “I’m yours, Alastor!” You moaned, willing to say anything to stop the overwhelming feeling as the coil snapped, you were orgasming on this demon’s shadow and for the love of all that was unholy he wouldn’t fucking let up. You did what he said, but he wasn’t stopping. His thrusts didn’t slow, your clit was throbbing and your body shaking uncontrollably. All defiance was dead, your fire snuffed out. Your eyes were glazed and unfocused. Your head hit the floor again as you struggled to keep your thoughts straight, “It’s all yours. My soul is yours! Please- sto-” Another orgasm was being fucked out of you, no recovery from the first. “I can’t, I can’t” Your jaw locked, the way your cunt was spasming and tightening around his shadow appendages nearly pushed them out of your body with the strength of your first forced orgasm. The lights in the room flickered and popped, the candles blew out with a sudden gust, static drowned out your voice from everyone but Alastor as you screamed through the second orgasm. A green light erupted from the smeared sigil beneath you, blinding the crew and onlookers. “My body is yours! My soul! It’s all yours. I give you all of me, Alastor! Alastor!!” Your vision went spotty, and your throat seemed to close around your voice. Your face was red with the strain of your orgasm. You’d never felt unrelenting pleasure like that before and in that moment you’d have given him absolutely anything he wanted from you. Everything. It was his. You were his. He owned you inside and out.

The bullying of your cunt finally calmed after your orgasm began to edge away, your breath no longer stuck in your throat. He didn’t stop, but he slowed down to a lazy pace as what few lights managed to survive flickered back to life. As your eyes adjusted to the light, you looked over your wrecked body to Alastor. His eyes were wild, his bangs damp and clinging to his forehead. His smile was manic, sinister almost. He looked truly demonic. A wave of fear carried a chill down your spine.

The tentacles withdrew, the sudden loss making you feel colder somehow now than before. They had taken on your own heat and matched your temperature so perfectly, now your body felt empty. You felt naked. Your cunt was still clenching, but around nothing at all. It felt…like something was missing now. Your body seemed to be upset at the loss of contact. It made your stomach turn.

You flinched when the radio demon approached you, but instead of tearing you to pieces like his grin had promised, he slipped his suit jacket off and laid it over your body. You hadn’t realized the dress was torn and lying beneath you in a wet pile of blood and sweat. The confusion must have been evident on your face, because Alastor’s appearance shifted. Antlers now small, if not tiny between his ears. His eyes a red and pink, lids half closed. His smile was just a line across his face, no teeth at all. He looked like a gentleman, had you not known what he had just done to your pussy you’d have thought him incapable of such impropriety.

“Good job, my little doe.” He whispered before you were handed a glass of water by a tall stranger.

“Wow, you’re kind of natural at this babe. I haven’t seen a performance like that in ages. Are you okay?” You took the water from him but didn’t open your mouth to reply, instead transfixed on his appearance. You’d only seen Val and Alastor until now. “You can call me Angel. We’ll get you home soon. I swear.”

Your eyes flitted to Alastor’s, did he know? He must have, he must have felt it. Of course he knew. In those final moments, you hadn’t been acting. Not an ounce of your pleasured responses were disingenuous. Not a single word a lie.

Alastor helped you to your feet as Angel placed a robe over your shoulders. Alastor hummed as he put his jacket back on, a satisfied sound coming from his chest that almost sounded like a song.

Val sat in his director’s chair with his legs crossed, mouth open. His cigarette was mostly ash, delicately lingering on the stub.

Alastor placed a hand on the small of your back as you were guided to the door. Looking over his shoulder he grinned to Val, “It seems our deal is done here, Valentino. She’s mine, in perpetuity.”

(Part two)

༻Masterlist༺

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ayyy-pee · 6 months ago

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𝐋𝐄𝐀𝐊𝐄𝐃

Discord 18+ - Twitter

Pairing: Model!Shoko Ieri x Female Reader, Model!Utahime Iori x Female Reader, Shokohime x Female Reader

Summary: You're a top Public Relations manager covering Tokyo Fashion Week. All the drugs, sex and outrageous going ons never see the light of day. Why? Because it's your job to cover up scandal.

But that doesn't mean you can't have your own risky fun.

Story Warning: Smut, LESBIANS, Reader works in Public Relations, Mentions of Drugs, Mentions of hookups, Bath sex, Bathtub Threesome, Cunnilingus, Cum Eating, Profanity bc c'mon...it's me, Vaginal Bumping and Grinding, Referenced STRAP usage, Fingering, Secret Flings, Sneaky Sex, Dub-con? (Reader and ShokoHime have a few drinks...but do consent to sex), Sneaking Around, Secret Recordings

Art by: Cake__Sensei (Twitter)

A/N: I FINALLY finished something for my Jujutsu Journal Collab Event! I hope yall enjoy!!! Thank you to everyone participating and for everyone who has helped me to reach 3k followers!!!

You’ve always loved the fast paced feel of Tokyo Fashion Week. The bright lights flashing and catching every crease and detail of the fabrics on display. The music thumping and crowd cheering as the models strut down the runway. The chaos backstage as everyone rushes to slip in and out of the next garment in time for their cue. Yes, you loved being a part of that feeling, you loved capturing that feeling. Because it was your job to catch every crease and detail, the sexy walks of the models, the mayhem that happens behind the scenes while the audience patiently waits.

It’s exhilarating, really. Being invited to such elite and exclusive events has changed your life in ways you could have never imagined. When you first started your career in fashion, you would have never dreamed of making it this far. This was worlds away from filming street fashion on your shitty little cell phone and interviewing small time designers. But you’ve worked so hard, worked even smarter and have networked your way to the top of your department.

And now, you're the head of the PR team for one of the top fashion magazines in Japan, currently assigned to cover the after party of Tokyo Fashion Week to collect enough content for a post show documentary.

The after party is as wild as you’d imagined it would be. The ritziness and glam of the actual fashion show can hardly be found here. It’s all thumping loud music, raunchy dancing and paraphernalia scattered across various surfaces.

Looking for sweaty bodies bumping and grinding in off the runway Dior? You’ll find it here.

Want to catch someone snorting a line in vintage Chanel? Just turn your head in any direction, really.

Can you see a pair of this season’s YSL heels peeking out from around the corner where someone is on their knees giving the sloppiest blowjob? Absolutely.

And it’s your job to make sure that what’s happening here never sees the light of day.

You love scandal, because it gives you a job, pays your bills and keeps your lights on and food in your fridge. As long as some celebrity is getting into shit they’re not supposed to, you’ll always have a job. But outside of work, you loathe scandal, avoid it at all costs because the biggest cost would be your career. Sure, you’ve joined in on the fun, partook in scandalous behavior from time to time, but you’re always careful. There are never any traces, never any receipts, never any damning evidence that could lead back to you.

No one will ever know that you spent a weekend in Bali with famous pop musician Satoru Gojo while his wife waited patiently for him to return from “filming” a new music video.

They will also never know about your brief tryst with his best friend, Suguru Geto in Nara, Seoul and Bora Bora. Not even Satoru.

And your romantic holiday trip with award winning actress Yuki Tsukumo? As far as everyone else knows, it never happened.

See, you were that damn good at your job. That’s why you were the head of your PR team, after all. It’s why you knew exactly where to direct your videographer to point their camera. You spot the rolled dollar bills and white lines before they can react, finger pushing the camera sideways to focus on something else.

Lo and behold, it points to a group of models standing casually off to the side of the party as they mingle with guests. You recognize one face among the crowd, those deep purple bags beneath his eyes highlighted by the flashing neon lights.

It’s Choso, a model, with his hair up in space buns, a part of his styling. He’s dressed to the nines in the most stylish streetwear of the season, his signature Prada combat boots on.

You’ve known Choso for quite some time, often running into each other at these afterparties. Years ago, in the early hours of the morning, you’d clumsily attempted a drunk hookup. Every kiss, every touch, every attempt to work each other up to something more amounted to nothing. It ended with you both tangled in each other’s arms, falling apart with laughter. And so, you’d decided you were better off as friends, and had become quite close since. It worked better for you both that way. You just weren’t into each other like that.

But Choso has been a good friend to you. You often find yourself hanging out together after the chaos of the fashion show has died down and a new session of mayhem has begun for the afterparty. You haven’t seen him in months, but that doesn’t seem to make a difference because Choso spots you easily behind the camera and waves you over to his group of friends.

“Haven’t seen you since Paris,” he calls out to you as you approach. He slings an arm around your shoulders, hugging you tightly to his chest and pressing a kiss to the top of your head.

“I know! I’ve missed you!” You yell back. “How have you been?”

“Not too bad, not too bad at all. Dating someone now!”

You lean back in his hold, brows rising to your hairline. “You? In a relationship?”

You’re shocked. You’ve seen Choso go through different women, but never heard him refer to whoever he was seeing as dating. He nods, just as one of the most beautiful women you’ve ever laid eyes on approaches you two. Her lips quirk into a pretty smile and you can tell right away that she’s not a model. The smile is far too genuine, but that’s not to say she couldn’t be one if she wanted. She’s stunning, with smooth caramel brown skin and braids that fall down her back, and big brown eyes that you can already see Choso getting lost in as he pulls away from you to wrap his arms around her waist. He peers down at her, the awe apparent in his gaze. Like he just can’t believe he’s got her.

“Hey, babe,” he mutters just before his lips meet hers in a hungry kiss.

Oh, he’s in love, love.

Choso introduces you to his babe, Kamila and she’s as sweet as she looks. But you don’t get to talk to her much, because Choso is not willing to spend any time he’s not obligated to away from his love. You don’t blame him. She’s breathtaking. You can’t help but smile, watching as Choso and his girlfriend completely forget they’re at this party together, surrounded by people.

Which is fine, because it’s about time to wrap it up yourself so that you and your crew can also take time to enjoy the rest of the festivities.

Turning to your associate, you signal for them to hand you their camera. They quickly switch it off before placing it in your hands. “Go party,” you tell them, dismissing them for the night. “Nothing crazy,” you add. “And if it gets crazy, make sure there’s nothing that can be traced back to the company. And if something happens that can be traced back to the company, call me.”

They know the rules. They’re the same ones you follow and the same ones the company practically beat into your skull when you were first brought on. So far, they’ve worked for you. No one has been able to outsmart any of you. Your team is solid.

“Got it boss,” your cameraman exclaims. Then they’re off to get into whatever trouble the night has in store for them.

And while you’re pondering what trouble you can get into, it seems to find you first.

“Boss, huh?” A sweet voice questions behind you. You spin around to see Choso and his girlfriend are now nowhere in sight. Instead, you’re face to face with two of the most alluring women you’ve ever laid eyes on. They’re dressed in skin tight dresses that leave little to the imagination, their long legs exposed and damn they look good. You recognize them from the show and from the model roster.

The beautiful slender one with the cute little beauty mark beneath one of her tired eyes – Shoko Ieiri. She’s got a bit of an intimidating aura and a smile that has your heart pounding rapidly behind your ribcage. She’s a bit scary. And admittedly, you find it sexy.

You’ve never spoken to Shoko. The models are usually too busy working and racing around backstage to have much time to mingle. By the time the show’s over, they’re either back in their rooms or out at whatever party they can get into. But have also never heard anything negative about Shoko from any contacts in the industry, which speaks volumes to you. You hear everything. It’s easy for anyone to get their hands on anything if they try hard enough.

When there’s nothing to find, it means they’re good at keeping their dirt swept under the rug. Those are the types of people you get along best with.

Then, there’s the slightly shorter one, with a rough scar that runs from one side of her face to the other in contrast to her soft features – Utahime Iori. She’s as striking as Shoko – curvy and looks soft in all the right places.

Again, nothing crazy about Utahime. You’ve heard she’s quite the hothead, which would be quite interesting if it were true. She has a less intimidating air about her. Her big brown eyes make her seem sweeter than the woman standing beside her. It makes her all the more intriguing to you.

Regardless, they both have their pretty gazes on you and for a split second, you feel the roles reverse. In this world, you’re at the top of the food chain. Everyone else is the prey. Because you could spin any story, take any insult slung your way and crush your target. Because no one had anything on you. But for some reason, as these two women stare you down, Utahime with her bottom lip pulled between her teeth and Shoko puckering her lips around the butt of a cigarette, you feel like they could destroy you.

And if there’s one thing you love, it’s a woman who feels dangerous.

So when Shoko asks if you’d like to join her and Utahime for some drinks, you really can’t say no. And you don’t want to.

- - - - - - - - -

“What’d you think of the show?” Utahime asks eagerly. You’re all seated on one of the expensive velvet sofas on the second floor of this club. Shoko has made herself comfortable, leaning back against the arm of the chair. And you’ve made yourself even more comfortable, seated between her long legs and leaning against Shoko’s chest while Utahime sits next to you, idly playing with your fingers.

You take a slow sip of your drink. It’ll probably be your last for the night. From the moment you laid eyes on these two, you knew what direction you wanted the night to go. You want to be sober enough to enjoy it.

Utahime peers up expectantly at you with those big brown eyes of hers, long lashes curling cutely and it makes your cheeks heat. The alcohol is not helping with how easily your body is responding.

“It was really good,” you finally answer. Utahime beams, a little smile beginning to grow on her lips.

“Really?” She asks, and you nod. “We did good?”

Behind you, you feel the vibration of Shoko’s chuckle rumble against your back. And as you stare down into Utahime’s eyes, it’s clear why.

Okay. This one likes praise, you note mentally. You nod again. “So good.” And you’re unable to stop the smile forming on your lips when Utahime’s grin widens. She looks over to Shoko, who lazily takes a drag of another cigarette, blowing her smoke out of the side of her mouth to avoid suffocating you. Her long fingers trail absentmindedly up and down your arm as she listens to you and Utahime continue on about the show.

You’ve noticed that Shoko isn’t very talkative. She’s more observant than anything and while that would usually bother you, there’s something about Shoko that puts you at ease. Like you can put your life in her hands and can be confident you would be alright. Maybe it’s because everything around you is always so busy, always so loud. Her silence feels grounding amongst the chaos.

But you also find her silence a little funny since she and Utahime seem to be so close. Utahime seems more the party type than Shoko does. She’s outgoing and friendly, warm and inviting. It’s such a stark contrast to Shoko, and yet they’re always with each other. Even earlier in the night, if Shoko went to the bar, Utahime was right behind her, telling you they’d be right back before chasing after her. If Utahime wanted to dance, Shoko was next to her. You suppose opposites do attract.

You suspect they’re more than just colleagues or friends and you file that tidbit away in your mind. If the night is headed where you want it to go, where you suspect it’s going to go, you need to collect any pertinent information you can beforehand.

Just in case.

“Ugh,” Shoko groans, leaning forward suddenly to smash her half finished cigarette into the ashtray on the side table next to her. “All this noise is making my head hurt.”

Utahime nods in agreement. “It has been a long day…” She sits straighter, grasping your hand tightly she asks, “Should we get going?”

Damn, you think. You’re a little disappointed to think the night is ending here. “Are you two heading home?” You’re sure the frown on your face is clear, even in the darkness of the venue. You don’t want them to go yet.

Shoko snorts, shaking her head. She leans back against the chair, looping an arm around your waist and pulling you back onto her. “No,” she breathes, and she’s so close to your ear, you can feel her breath ghost along your skin, can smell the faint mixture of nicotine and spearmint. “We don’t live anywhere near here,” she explains, fingers gliding along your skin again. “Hime and I got a reservation at one of those onsen hotels up the street.”

“It’s really nice from the pictures I saw online,” Utahime adds, a cheerful lilt to her tone when she speaks. “Can’t wait to get there.”

You can feel the shift in the atmosphere when those words leave her lips. The air is thick, heavy. You’re familiar with this feeling. You know it all too well, and your heart races in your chest. Behind you, you feel Shoko’s body tense up briefly before she relaxes.

Then Utahime is crawling along your form, moving closer to you, closer and closer, and you think she’s going to try and kiss you. And damn it, you’d let her…if it was you she was aiming for. Instead, you watch, eyes blown wide with curiosity and honestly, desire as Utahime presses her plush lips to Shoko’s. Normally, you’d be elated to know your hunch was correct, that they were in fact more than friends, but you can’t seem to care when you see their lips connect. Their kiss is sweet at first, just a few light pecks, quiet sighs between them. Until Utahime grins into the kiss, pulling back slightly to giggle at the way Shoko’s brows knit together. Shoko frowns, bringing a hand up to grip Utahime’s long chocolate tresses.

“Don’t tease me, Hime,” she breathes through gritted teeth. Then she’s pulling Utahime’s face to hers, smashing their lips together for a messy, passionate kiss. And all you can do is watch as their tongues slip into each other’s mouths, breaths heavy as they quietly moan into each kiss. It’s so sexy, the way Utahime whimpers. How Shoko nips at Utahime’s already swollen lips. How Shoko pulls you tighter against her, pressing your ass against her groin.

You’re not sure if it’s the drinks you’ve had with these girls, the cigarettes or the scent of their perfumes that has your head swimming. Hell, maybe it’s a mixture of it all, but you’re so turned on watching these beautiful women kissing in front of you. All of their lust being poured into each slot of their lips, every groan and whimper between them, it’s all so arousing. You squeeze your thighs together, prompting a soft chuckle from the woman behind you. Shoko breaks away from the kiss, releasing her hold on Utahime’s hair who pouts cutely, sitting back on her knees.

“Don’t look so sad, Hime,” Shoko coos. She turns her attention back to you. “Just seemed like someone wanted to join us.”

And you do. You want to join them real fucking bad.

But when Shoko leans forward, just trying to press a kiss to your neck, your brain suddenly crawls out of the fog. You’re out in the open, in a compromising position with two models, at that. So you move, a hand flying up to push Shoko back a little.

Her brows furrow, head tilting in confusion and she releases her hold on you. “Oh– Sorry, I didn’t mean to assume…I just thought–”

“No you’re right,” you reassure them. Your eyes dart around the venue, and while everyone is likely drugged up or too drunk out of their minds to notice three girls feeling each other up in the club, you can never be too careful. “Just…not here. Let’s go back to your hotel.”

Shoko looks at Utahime, who stares at you two with eager eyes and a smile that would melt anyone’s heart. “Okay! Let’s go!”

- - - - - - - - -

Shoko checks you all into the hotel, and the room is as beautiful as you’d imagine it would be. There’s a main bedroom with a fluffy king bed ready to be slept in…or not. Off to the side of the room is a small dining area, and through large glass doors is the onsen bath, the water already run by the hotel staff for you. It screams luxury. You can see the steam curling from the water and god, if you couldn’t use a bath to wash away the day.

You set your bag and camera down on the dining table. Stretching your arms over your head, you take in the room, moving across the space. “This hotel is fucking incredible,” you gasp. “I can’t believe your agency spoils you guys like this.”

Shoko laughs, kicking her heels off and setting them in the little armoire by the entrance. “Right? I was surprised myself. Make yourself at home,” she tells you from the other side of the room.

She didn’t have to tell you twice. You couldn’t wait to crawl into that bed and –

“What’s this for?”

You peek over your shoulder, eyes landing on Utahime fumbling around with the camera and panic sets in. You cannot lose that footage. “Please don’t touch that!” It comes out more forcefully than you intended and Utahime sets the camera down quickly, holding her hands up defensively.

“Sorry!”

You rush toward her, only to be stopped in your tracks by Shoko, who places her hands on your shoulders. “Hey, relax. She was just looking.” She fixes you with a small smile, running her hands soothingly along your arms. And it does calm you, the earlier fear you felt melting away. “Be glad you caught her before she dropped it.” Shoko shakes her head, releasing your shoulders before she turns, moving towards the other woman. Utahime stands still, watching and waiting as Shoko slips behind her easily. Shoko’s fingers pinch the zipper of Utahime’s dress and drag it along the fabric until her dress slowly loosens around her chest and your gaze falls to the movement. “She can be careless sometimes,” Shoko speaks softly. Her fingers glide along Utahime’s collarbone, dragging down to the swell of her breasts. “Don’t mind her.”

Shoko spins around, and Utahime follows, gently pushing Shoko’s hair aside. She presses a soft kiss to the back of Shoko’s neck and you watch as she trails kisses along the side of Shoko’s neck, pulling quiet sighs from the taller woman as she pulls the zipper until the fabric falls to the floor, revealing her bare slim form. Shoko turns back around and captures Utahime’s lips with hers, only breaking away to whisper, “Be more careful, okay?” before she’s back on her.

And all you can do is watch, the nerves you felt earlier about the camera now melted away. Beneath the soft lighting of the hotel room, they look like ethereal beings. Too innocent to be partaking in such salacious behavior. Arousal pools in your core as the vision of the two model’s tongues tangling sends you spiraling. Have you ever been so turned on, so eager to touch someone, to feel their body on yours? Even your nights spent with the most famous celebrities never had you so tempted to slip your hands into your panties.

It’s the way Shoko holds onto Utahime’s form against her own. How she reaches a hand up to pull down the loosened fabric against Utahime’s chest. How Utahime becomes exposed, her supple breasts falling gently. Utahime’s soft whimpers when the chill air ghosts along her pretty pink nipples, the buds puckering when Shoko rolls them gently between her fingers.

Shoko sighs, pulling away reluctantly. “You’re so pretty,” she whispers, hands kneading Utahime’s breasts. “So beautiful. My perfect girl.”

You can see the way Utahime’s eyes light up from across the room, a shy smile lifting the corners of her lips. “No, you,” she teases and Shoko chuckles.

Her heated gaze finds yours from across the room, how you’re watching them intently with desire clear in your eyes. Utahime follows her line of sight, and it’s clear to her what Shoko wants. She raises her hand, inviting you over to join. And you don’t hesitate. Like magnets drawn to each other, your legs carry you to them with ease.

Both women welcome you, the anticipation clear. They want this just as badly as you do, and for a moment, you wonder if their panties are just as soaked as yours. They’ve been kissing each other, touching each other, getting to taste and enjoy each other while you’ve gotten the pleasure of watching from the sidelines. Now you’re about to partake in these pleasures with them. You’re more excited than you care to admit.

Utahime takes your hand, guiding you closer and closer until you’re standing right in front of her. “Are you okay with this?” She asks, eyes locked on your parted lips and you nod your consent.

“Yes, I want this.”

Utahime’s bright eyes travel to Shoko, who watches you both with hardly concealed interest.

“This stays here, though. Right?”

You want to be sure before moving forward. Not that you were concerned, but better to have heard it with your own ears.

”Of course,” Shoko confirms. She bites down on her lip before looping an arm around your waist. Now she has both you and Utahime in her hold. “Now kiss her.”

The command has your core aching. You’ve wanted nothing more than to know what it felt like, tasted like, to kiss them. Didn’t matter who first or if it was both at the same time. You just wanted to feel their lips on yours.

And you do, when Shoko dips her head down to bury her face in your neck just as Utahime presses her mouth on yours. The moment their mouths connect with your skin, your body ignites with heat. Utahime is an amazing kisser. She has pretty, plush and soft lips that easily mold against yours. And she makes cute little noises when your tongues touch.

Shoko on the other hand, is a bit rougher, hungrier with her kisses. When she cups your cheek and breaks your kiss with Utahime by turning your head, she’s quick to nip at your lips. Her tongue slips into your mouth the second you let out a moan. While you and Shoko are heavily making out, Utahime takes this time to grab your hands, laying them against her large breasts.

“Touch me,” she sighs, squeezing your hands beneath hers and moaning at the applied pressure.

You oblige, hands running lightly over the hardened buds and you revel in the way Shoko moans a quiet “I love the way you play with her tits…” into your mouth. “I wanna see you play with her pussy later.” You whimper into the kiss, her confession making your cheeks heat. You’ll admit, this is your first threesome. It’s hard to focus, your mind is so foggy with the arousal building in your core. It’s all too much – too much movement, too much touching, too much sound and way too much going on with your own body.

Your lips tingle, almost numb from how hard and greedily Shoko kisses you. Your skin vibrates with the way Utahime is practically helping you to play with her breasts. And your panties are probably dripping with arousal right now. You are desperate to cum.

“We should get into the bath,” Utahime groans when you cup her breasts. She leans forward, nudging Shoko away from your lips. Shoko gives her hardly any space at all, taking one side of your mouth while Utahime takes the other. Then it’s all three of your tongues tangling together in this sloppy, wet kiss.

Though you’re all reluctant to break away, Shoko moves first, stepping back enough to grab the hem of your shirt and peel it off of you, forcing Utahime back as well. You’re all breathing heavily, flushed and aroused beyond measure, but you still nod. “Yeah, let's get in bath…”

++++++++++

“Have you been with a woman before?” Shoko asks, lacing her fingers between yours as she guides you into her lap. You straddle her, though you don’t sit fully on her lap yet.

You’ve all slipped into the warmth of the deep hotel bathtub. Shoko sits half submerged on the bathtub’s built-in bench with her back against the tub’s wall. If your body was burning up before, it’s on fire now, your pulse racing after spending the last few minutes lathering each other’s bodies and kissing until your lips hurt.

“I have.”

Shoko’s brows rise, almost as if she’s surprised by the confirmation. “Two women?”

You shake your head. Nevertheless, Shoko grins as she asks, “Well? The one you’ve been with…How was it?” She pulls you closer, until your lips are hovering barely over hers, breaths mingling. “Did you enjoy yourself?”

The question hangs heavy between you two. It’s not as though answering this question would implicate you in any way, or give them any clues as to who the last woman you slept with was. So you answer honestly, just barely above a whisper. “Yeah, it was pretty good.”

Utahime giggles, gliding through the water to close the distance between you all. “She’s so cute, Shoko.”

Shoko cups your face, eyes cast down to your lips. “She is, isn’t she?” She runs her thumb along your lip teasingly before she declares, “I can give you something better than pretty good.”

“Yeah?” You challenge her.

“Yeah, she can,” Utahime confirms. “We can.” She closes the gap between you all, placing her hands on your waist from behind. You feel her wet breasts press against your back and your eyes flutter closed. Utahime is curvy in all the right places. You are no better than a man, more than turned on by the feeling of her pressed against you. Your absolute favorite part about her is her pretty, large breasts. You can’t wait to have her nipples in your mouth.

Utahime places light kisses along your skin, along your neck, moving so that she’s on her knees beside you and Shoko. She adjusts her height smoothly so that she sits a little taller, enough so that she can cup the back of your head and pull you to her chest. Your lips latch onto her nipple quickly, eagerly and she gasps, back arching and pushing her breast further into the cavern of your mouth. You hum against her, tongue rolling the pert bud. She tastes of the strawberry body wash you just rinsed off of her. You’re so distracted, moving back and forth between Utahime’s breasts that you don’t notice Shoko slipping a hand between the other woman’s thighs beneath the water. Not until Utahime cries out, hands coming up to find purchase on your shoulders.

And Shoko, the bitch that she is, places her other hand on your thigh and guides you to sit down, mouth falling open with a soft moan when your hips connect under the bath water. Shoko rolls hips, brushing her core with yours and grinning as she watches your mouth fall agape against Utahime’s breast. She does it again, smiling wide when a small whimper falls from your lips. Then she keeps doing it, keeps grinding herself against you until your thighs are trembling, and you’re nothing but a puddle clinging to Utahime’s waist.

And Utahime, she’s not any better off. Shoko’s fingers are slowly working her towards her release. She’s already been pent up, teased and turned on since you’d all gotten together at the nightclub. Now, as Shoko scissors her fingers inside her sex, presses her palm to her clit, Utahime only inches closer to the edge.

The smaller woman pushes you from her chest, her hands cupping your face so she can capture your lips with hers. And you’re so overstimulated, your mind reeling while the water sloshes with every thrust of Shoko’s hips. Shoko gently cups one of your breasts, rolling your nipple between her thumb and forefinger, moaning as she feels your clits brush against each other repeatedly. She sighs sweetly watching as you ride her, all while Utahime rides her hand while her lips slot against yours.

“You’re so soft,” Utahime breathes, tongue pushing past your lips to press against your own wet muscle. One hand finds the back of Utahime’s head, fingers tangling in her soft tresses and you hear Shoko moan beneath you, her hips slamming into yours. Your tongue tangles messily with Utahime’s, all saliva and groans as Shoko moves you against her. Water splashes over the sides of the tub. You can’t be bothered to care about the mess you’re all making. Not when this feels so good, not when Utahime kisses you like this, not while Shoko makes her sob into your mouth, not when you can feel the delicious tension beginning to build in your core.

“Fuck, ah – you’re both so sexy…” Shoko groans. “Love watching you kiss each other. So fucking sexy…Play with my tits while I fuck her, Hime.”

Without breaking the kiss, Utahime grasps one of Shoko’s breasts, tweaking her nipple and grinning against your mouth when Shoko gasps loudly. Her thrusts come faster, head falling back as she moans.

“Ahh…Shoko…you make such pretty sounds, baby.” Utahime coos and you whimper, eyes rolling back when your cunt slides against Shoko’s deliciously. “You do, too,” Utahime tells you, kissing you one last time before breaking away to lean down and kiss Shoko now.

All the while, Shoko never stops her movements. It’s like she’s an expert with her hands because she never loses hold of your hip, guiding you against her while she fucks her fingers into Utahime with her other hand. The room is full of the lewd sounds of you three whimpering, moaning, and whining at the shared intimacy. If there’s anyone in the rooms next to you, they may complain, but you’re not worried about that. You’re more concerned with the way Utahime’s voice rises several octaves, her cheeks pink and eyes squeezed shut.

“Gonna cum?” Shoko groans. “C’mere. C’mere, baby,” Shoko stops moving, gently pulling her fingers from Utahime’s pussy. She’s so gentle with the other woman as she adjusts herself so that she’s able to lean her head back enough for Utahime to stand between you and her, legs spread as she settles her knees on the edge of the tub, positioning her core over Shoko’s face. You’ve got a nice view of Utahime’s pretty round ass, and an even better view of Shoko pressing a passionate kiss to Utahime’s cunt, tongue running through her folds, lips wrapping around Utahime’s swollen bud.

Utahime gasps, moaning breathlessly when Shoko sucks her clit hard, then teases it with the tip of her tongue. Your hands play idly with Shoko’s nipples, eyes locked on the way Shoko devours Utahime, like she’s never tasted something sweeter in her life. It’s such an arousing vision. Utahime’s thighs begin to tremble and you’re grateful for the platform of the bath, where Utahime falls forward onto her hands. She’s on all fours, riding Shoko’s face.

“Shokoooo, ooh–,” she hisses through gritted teeth. “Gonna fucking cum, babe,” she warns, and Shoko’s lips wrap around her clit again, humming loudly as she gives Utahime’s ass a harsh smack. This has Utahime’s body spasming, a high pitched cry leaving her as she reaches her peak. And as you watch Shoko drive Utahime over the edge with just her tongue, you’re unsure if it’s the water from the bath or Utahime’s release that’s running down Shoko’s face, absolutely soaking the taller woman’s chin.

“Fuck,” you moan quietly, eyes locked on the sexy sight before you. Your clit throbs beneath the surface. Maybe Shoko feels it, because she picks her movements back up after returning both hands to your hips. Your cunt slips and slides against Shoko’s again and this time, after watching Utahime fall apart on Shoko’s tongue, you’re even more aroused and eager to reach your own release. It’s not too far off, only getting closer as you watch Utahime shudder while Shoko continues making out with her pussy.

When it’s clear Utahime is spent, she climbs off of Shoko and slips back into the water, gliding through the liquid to position herself behind you where she begins kissing along your neck again. Her hands finds your breasts and she kneads them gently from behind, the motion such a contrast to the way Shoko is roughly fucking you again.

And once more, you’re all whimpering, hands roaming each other’s bodies. Grabbing soft flesh and squeezing anywhere you can that pulls sweet noises. You’re riding Shoko hard, desperately trying to cum. Each stroke of your clit against hers has you reeling, the sweet sensation pushing you closer and closer to your climax.

“I’m jealous,” Utahime pouts cutely. “Shoko gets to fuck you so good. I wanna fuck you, too.”

You can’t do anything but whimper pathetically at the aspect of your legs crossed with Utahime’s. Shoko’s moans follow. “I wanna see you fuck her, baby.” She thrusts her hips up, a loud moan rushing past your lips. “You wanna fuck Hime, too? She eats pussy so good.”

“God, yes!” You cry, eyes closed as you focus on your impending climax.

“We have plenty of time tonight,” Utahime assures you. “Maybe we can even do this another time.”

“Oh, I’d love that. Get to see this pretty pussy again,” Shoko grunts, eyes locked on the way your tits bounce with every roll of your hips. “God, even in the water, your pussy is so fucking wet.”

Utahime groans, pouting further. “Stopppp, Shoko. I already said I’m–”

“Gonna cum,” Shoko whines. “Oh my god, I’m gonna cum!”

Shoko leans forward suddenly, grasping you by the back of your neck and pulling you close so she can crash her lips into yours. The mixture of Shoko's taste and the tang of Utahime’s cum on Shoko’s tongue has your eyes rolling back, and you’re toppling over. Your orgasm hits you like a freight train, the tension and build up throughout the night finally snapping the band that had been coiling in your core for the last several hours.

Your arms wrap around Shoko’s shoulders as you keen into each other's mouths, riding out your highs.

“Oh wow…” Utahime rubs small circles on your back. “That was…really hot.”

You’re catching your breath, Shoko still holding onto your hips tightly. Her hair is stuck to her forehead, a sweaty mess that somehow looks even more beautiful this way.

“We’re gonna need another bath,” she chuckles.

The night carries on with much of the same taking place. After the bath (and second bath), the three of you fall into bed, quickly finding yourselves tangled in the sheets.

++++++++++

The next morning, you’re awakened by the sound of your phone buzzing incessantly on the hotel table. Your head is pounding and you’re not sure if it’s the couple glasses of wine you had, or the dehydration from the many orgasms both women pulled from you last night. Probably a mixture of both.

Speaking of Shoko and Utahime, you stretch carefully in bed, remembering you all fell asleep with you sandwiched between them. But you’re left confused when you don’t feel a warm body on either side of you. You open your eyes slowly, wincing when the early morning rays of sun feel like a punch to the forehead. But even the aching in your skull isn’t enough for you to ignore that you appear to be alone in a hotel room that is not yours.

You crawl out of bed, peering around the room. “Hello?” You call out, and it feels like your voice is echoing, bouncing off the walls of this quiet room. You check the bathroom and find it’s empty. You check the closet and don’t see any evidence that clothes were inside last night. “Maybe they just had to leave,” you murmur to yourself. Because it helps soothe the nagging feeling you have sitting in the pit of your stomach at the moment.

Shrugging off the feeling, you go about your morning as you normally would. You shower, brush your teeth, dress in the clothes you’d come over in last night and plan on heading back home to report back to work.

Your phone is still buzzing when you’re about ready to head out. You finally pick it up, unlocking the device and seeing a plethora of missed calls as well as several text messages from some of your team members and associates.

Associate 1: Where are you?

Associate 1: 911!! Please pick up!

You roll your eyes, wondering what trouble they’d gotten into last night. What mess will you have to clean up this morning?

Associate 3: PLEASE ANSWER THE PHONE

Director: You need to call me.

Director: NOW.

Slight panic begins to set in, and you continue scrolling through your messages. There’s one from an unknown number, sent in the early hours of the morning. You open the message, eyes practically bulging out of your head when you see the contents.

Unknown: No hard feelings, okay? We really needed the exposure so we could get booked for more shows. Thanks for last night! - H

Another text comes through, and you think you might be fucking sick when you read it. It’s a link to a news article for…Jujutsu Journal? Stupid ass name, but it’s a gossip blog so what did you expect?

The page has screenshots of a very familiar scene. You and the models in the bath. You and Utahime on the bed with your heads thrown back in ecstasy. A blurred pic, censoring what may be the dirtiest of all – you bent over the bed on all fours, with your face buried between Utahime’s legs while Shoko (and her lilac colored strap) destroy you from behind.

Where the absolute hell would they get these?!

The headline reads:

TAKING RELATING TO THE PUBLIC TO A WHOLE NEW LEVEL! Head Public Relations manager for one of Japan’s top fashion magazines is in quite a pickle! This morning Jujutsu Journal received EXCLUSIVE footage of her in various intimate positions with models Shoko Ieiri and Utahime Iori! Rumor has it these two are already booked and busy. Meanwhile, it looks like this Public Relations manager may soon be booted and broke! Want to see the tape? Click here to sign up for exclusive members only access!

The pieces begin to connect, your mind flashing back to just last night. The camera is right where you left it the night before. Well, where Utahime left it. But when your fingers push the button to open the tape cartridge, you find it empty. All the footage from the night before is gone! You feel like you may faint. All these years of being so careful, at least twenty steps ahead. All the progress you’ve made…gone.

And not just that! Now there’s a sextape of you three floating around the internet! Is that why Utahime was fumbling around with the camera? Why Shoko went out of her way to distract you? So that she could buy Utahime time to turn the camera on and hit record? Is that why they showed so much interest in you in the first place? Everything is beginning to make more and more sense, while simultaneously making less and less sense. You’re so confused.

“What the fuck?” You mutter to no one but yourself.

Your phone buzzes. You’re scared to look, but you know you should.

“What…the…fuck…” You still can’t believe this is happening. To you of all people.

Your eyes see the name light up on your screen. It’s your boss.

There’s no way you’ll be able to spin this one.

1K notes · View notes

smutoperator · 6 months ago

Text

No Rest For The Peach

Hirai Momo x Male Reader (+4 other guys)

Part 2 of 3 of Twice The Fun

Tags: airtight, (a lot of) anal, anal creampies, anal queen, bukkake, dirty talk, (a bit of) double anal, (lots of) double penetration, gangbang, hard facefucking, (very) loud sex, pounding that peach, objectification, rough sex, (lots of) squirting, warehouse

Word count: 6004

Momo loves to be treated like an object. This sexy Japanese dancer loves to use her body for the pleasure of horny men. And today, as Twice had just arrived for their pair of concerts in Tokyo, it was no different.

"Meet me at this warehouse," you sent a message to Momo as soon as she arrived in Japan, pointing to the place you wanted to have fun with her. "A warehouse? What plans do you have for me?" she asked. "To make you scream until you lose your voice, that's why we are going to do it as far away from the city as possible," you replied. "You can chill; let's say I know a thing or two about warehouses," you continued.

Indeed, Tokyo is such a bustling city that your plans would only be possible if you went to its outskirts. No neighbors to bother, no one to hear you by the moment you started doing the filthiest things to Momo.

Momo accepted your offer. "I'll be there just before the concert," she said. Indeed, she fulfilled her words, only to find out an empty warehouse as her manager dropped her off there with no one in sight except heavy trucks circulating in the middle of an extremely industrial zone.

You sent Momo a message. "I see from the cameras you're already there; get ready to be pushed to the limit," you said. "Where are you?" she asked. "Upper floor, waiting for you," you replied.

Momo walked the dark rooms of the warehouse before climbing to the upper floor on a very old lift to find you sitting on a chair. "You are wearing too much; take that jacket off, but I'm glad your belly is already exposed," you said.

Momo obliged and took her jacket off. "What else do you want me to do?" she asked. "Get naked; show me your perfect body," you replied. Momo indeed did that, leaving her body fully exposed in that hot summer day in Japan. "So, what's next?" she asked.

"Sit on that chair; let me admire that body," you said to her. Momo has such a small frame, but she packs a really hot body on it. Pretty face, big tits, toned tummy, fat ass, perfect pussy, strong legs—she's got everything that can make a man go crazy and unable to hold the urge to fuck her nonstop.

Momo spreads her legs and plays with her pussy to tease you. She stares at your riding erection with the perfect fuck me eyes. But soon, she finds out you two won't be alone for this crazy ride.

After descending back to the lower floor, the lift rises back up, bringing a convoy with four more guys that are about to join you: an old dude in his 50s, a tattooed guy, a muscular dude, and a young stud, all wearing the same outfit, black t-shirts and jeans. Just like you, they are well aware of Momo's amazing body and waste no time putting their hands all over it, with the tattooed guy going straight into groping her tits and the old man playing with her already wet pussy.

"I love being surrounded by five hard-fucking cocks," Momo says as she kisses you. She already knows what this is about. And she loves it. Not even 10 seconds after some groping, she's already on her knees, ready to do her job as a fuckmeat.

"Toss all those fucking cocks at me," Momo demands as she kneels and the men drop their pants in perfect sync, showing their huge erections all at once. Momo respects seniority and deepthroats the old guy to start the blowbang session, but he shows he's no slouch and puches back by fucking her face until she gags.

"Yes, give it to me; fuck my mouth harder than that," Momo says as she pulls out and jerks the old dude's cock. He does just that. Momo punches back and takes his cock balls deep in her mouth as the other guys just look at her and anxiously jerk their pricks off waiting for the turns.

Momo ramps up the challenge, putting your cock and the one from the muscular guy at the same time for a double barrel blowjob. She really loves savoring all that meat and brags about how her face is right on the guys cocks level when she gets on her kness. "God, I love those cocks; they were made to fuck me face," she says.

The young stud proves Momo right, fucking her face and making her eyes roll as you and the muscular guy surround her cheeks to the side and hit them with your cocks tips. "Look at me, bitch," the guy demands of Momo as he stuffs his cock down her throat.

"Feed them in my mouth," Momo begs as you and the muscular guy are the next in line. The latter is especially rough, leading her mouth to make countless gagging sounds as he pounds her throat under your watch.

The tattooed guy is the next in line. "Take it deep; he's not fully hard yet," you tell her. Momo does as you ask, letting his erection grow under the warmth of her mouth as she stuffs his cock balls deep. "Good girl," the guy praises her as she throats him for a good minute.

"Give me more cocks; I want more." Momo is very vocal. She's probably said more lines already than she will during the whole Twice concert afterwards. As the old guy promptly grants her wish, she makes signs with her hands to the young stud's cock, telling her to come close while still finding way to jerk your cock off.

Momo giggles as the young stud pounds her face and makes her perky thighs bounce. She then takes turns getting her face fucked by every single guy, with the other ones slapping her face and other parts of that body. "Ahhhh, that's so fucking yummy," she says when her mouth is finally without a cock blocking it.

"If it's so yummy, then open your mouth," you tell Momo, taking your cock all the way deep in her throat, grabbing her head as you thrust your hard prick into her face. Momo gets even hungrier. "FUCKING SURROUND ME WITH THOSE FUCKING COCKS," she screams, begging for more man meat.

Momo spits all over the five cocks, getting them very sloppy as she uses her tongue to slurp all over them, getting frequently two and sometimes even three guys at the same time in her mouth. But the studs don't want to stuff just that one hole of hers. This is just the beginning.

The old guy brings Momo in your direction as the remaining dudes break up the circle surrounding her. Now the real fun begins. "Fucking stuff me," Momo demands as you grab her peachy butt. Her asshole is already gaped, making you wonder if this slut hasn't already fucked another guy before even coming to the warehouse. Either way, you don't care. All you want is to shove that meat up that peach.

"Oh yes, give me," Momo says as you insert your cock straight up her butthole. Your thrusts are fast and hard from the beginning, as Momo is already getting spit-roasted and taking on the other guys cocks in a rotation as you pound her beautiful peach. Since Momo stands for peach in Japanese, you could even say you're now getting to fuck Momo's momo.

"Go down, go down," you demand to Momo, who drops her face into the young stud's cock while you keep fucking her ass. "OH YES, DESTROY MY ASS," Momo screams as you relentlessly attack her peach. You had never fucked a hole in that speed before, hammering Momo like she's nothing but a fuckmeat while grabbing her firm and fat butt with all your forces.

Momo is elated as you let the other guys take turns in her ass. "Yes, GIVE IT TO ME, PLEASE," she begs. You guys treat her like a total object, competing to see who pounds her fuckholes harder, her anus and mouth turned into nothing but orifices of pleasure, and her body turned into nothing but the vehicle you guys will let out of any frustrations by pounding it into oblivion.

"Stretch that beautiful peach," you tell the guys. "OH FUCK, IT'S SO GOOD IN MY ASS," Momo screams at the rare moment she doesn't have a cock stuffed in her mouth. Her tits bouncing are amazing to watch, as none of you hold back in the way you fuck her. In fact, the harder you fuck her, the more Momo doubles down, doing the spit-roasting now with two big pricks in her mouth, making it just a matter of time she gets two in her lower holes as well.

"I want more, please, baby, give me that cock," Momo says as you go back in her asshole, now adding spankings into her peachy butt as the other four guys get in front of her and Momo entertains them all. One in her ass, two in her mouth, two getting jerked off, Momo pleases all those hungry cocks at the same time. "Good girl, you're so fucking sexy with all those fucking cocks," you praise her.

"I WANT ALL THOSE FUCKING COCKS, YES, YES, PLEASE," Momo screams as the tattooed guy chokes her and slaps her dumb face. It's this early in the day, and Momo is already numb for cock, her eyes rolling as you pound her ass faster than the speed of light. Some guys now spit on her face. "Fucking cock whore," they say to her as the muscular guy now gropes her tits.

"POUND THIS FUCKING ASSHOLE," Momo keeps screaming. Your plans of renting that abandoned warehouse vindicated because imagine if she was doing it in the middle of Tokyo's city center; all you guys would already be behind bars. Instead, you are fucking her without any limits and plans of stopping, enjoying how hard your balls slap against her clit and your hips clap against her cheeks.

Momo shakes her ass as you pull out of her peach, and another guy already pops in. Now it's clear she can't go a single second without a big cock stuffed in her butt. "Give me that ass," the old guy says as he now takes her turn in her wonderful butt. You move to the front as Momo now rims your asshole before you end her fun and go back into pounding her throat.

"FUCK ME BABY, GIVE IT TO MY BIG ASS!" Momo screams, flaunting about her assets. "OH GOD, I'M GONNA CUM, AHHHHHHH," Momo screams again. "Then look at me and cum with my cock in your filthy mouth," you tell her just as Momo starts squirting all over the warehouse's floor.

Momo gags on your cock as she coats the floor with her juices. The young stud comes from behind and destroys her asshole harder than any guy before him. "FUCK, I LOVE IT SO MUCH," Momo says as she ducks her head down and stuffs her mouth full of your cock and the muscular guy's at the same time. "Harder, FUCK THAT ASS HARDER," Momo demands even though she's already getting pounded at insane speeds. She truly wants you guys to give no rest for that peach and loves every hard thrust inside it.

You started slapping Momo's slutty face as the young stud continued to obliterate her butthole. "YES, SLAP ME LIKE A SLUT," Momo says as you bring her head down to your cock. "Guess it's the only way this bitch is going to shut up," you say, pounding her throat, trying to match your protegé's extreme intensity.

"Come here, you tell Momo, pushing her sexy body on top of yours as soon as the hard spit-roasting session ends. "Oh, please, I want all my holes stuffed," she begs. Her wish is quickly granted, as within seconds after she sits her pussy in your pole, another cock is already ready to fill her ass. "Yes, put it in there, please," Momo begs in a cute, aegyo-ask voice as she gets double-penetrated.

Momo's DP is airtight from the start, just as she asked, with a third cock filling her mouth. "We are gonna use everything; we are gonna use every part of you; turn you into just a fuckmeat, a cockslut," you say to her as you reach to grope her tits. Her sexy peach looks better than ever with two cocks pumping up her pair of fuckholes. Momo's transformation into a sex object is fully complete.

"Gulp gulp." Momo tries to say some words, but the cock in her mouth just muffles them. But you understand that she meant "Use me." "She wants to get used; let's go guys; fuck that slut until she passes out," you say.

"AHHHH FUCK, I LOVE HAVING BIG COCKS INSIDE BOTH MY HOLES," Momo screams as soon as the guy with the cock in her mouth pulls out for a single second. Momo knows her sexy body is meant to be used and that any encounter between her and multiple cocks that doesn't end with her getting double-penetrated is a waste. Momo is meant to be fucked this way: submissive and airtight.

"STRETCH ALL MY FUCKING HOLES, FILL ME UP," Momo begs before the guys go back into airtight stuffing her. "GIVE IT TO ME, THAT FEELS SO FUCKING GOOD." Momo never misses an opportunity to scream to the top of her lungs how much she loves it, knowing that you guys are gonna fuck her even harder after it.

Momo gets toyed by your gang; you pound her pussy and such her tits. The young stud stuffs her throat, the muscular guy fucks her ass, the tattoo guy, and the old guy slap every inch of her body, making her cum for the second time. "I'M GONNA CUM ON BOTH YOUR FUCKING COCKS, AHHHHH," she announces, closing her eyes as her body collapses on top of yours.

"MORE, MORE, MORE, I WANT MORE COCK," Momo keeps begging. "It turns me out so much having five cocks all over me, fucking me like a whore," she says as the other guys take turns fucking her ass while you stay inside her wet cunt. "Look at that big peach, so fucking spankable," the old guy says at his turn, him and the tattoo guy providing Momo the dirtiest spit-roasting combo yet as you watch under her hot body.

Momo tits giggle as you guys increase the intensity. "Don't stop; I want two cocks in my holes all the time," she commands. "HARDER, HARDER, GIVE IT TO MY HOLES; I WANT TO BE POUNDED SO HARD BY BOTH YOUR FUCKING COCKS," Momo screams as the DP keeps going. "Who wants to fuck those holes next? I want all those fucking cocks inside me," a cock-crazed Momo says.

You switch positions and finally get to fuck Momo's beautiful ass as the top guy in this DP session, gaping it harder than all the other guys, making Momo lose her mind. The guys in front of her slap Momo's face, and she loves. Good god, she's such an object, only useful for cocks to get shoved deep inside her holes.

Momo demands gets all five cocks to please now, one in her pussy, one in her ass, one in her mouth, and two to jerk off. "Good girl, good girl," the guys praise her skills as they use her to the fullest. "Stoke those cocks; use every part of us to please us, you fucking whore," you say to her.

You move to the front and shove your cock balls deep in Momo's mouth, letting her taste her own asshole. "Look how eager she is to taste her dirty butthole," you say as the tattoo guy replaces your cock inside her ass, her peachy cheeks and big tits moving by their own at this point, with each guy pounding her harder than the one before.

Back in Momo's ass, you get to show her who's the alpha dog, becoming the first guy to mount on top of her sexy body. "OH MY GODDDDDD," Momo screams, and you loved that it was the same instinctive reaction as when you got on top of her a few months ago. Momo knows this is your favorite position and the one you take her at the hardest as your hips smash her peachy cheeks. "GIVE ME ALL OF IT, POUND ME LIKE A FUCKING WHORE, THAT'S WHAT I LIKE," she screams.

"MAKE THAT SLUTTY PUSSY CUM," Momo says as you fuck her ass so hard you dislodge the cock inside her pussy; more squirt comes out of her body as she's already completely wasted. Who knows how she's gonna perform tonight with that asshole and cunt destroyed to the max, and you guys aren't even halfway done with her.

Momo gets pushed to the floor as the guys start taking turns fucking her ass in a hardcore missionary position. You shut her moans down instantly, stuffing your prick in her mouth, as her face is already fully covered in saliva and her hair is messier than ever.

Momo giggles as she gags all over your cock, stroking the other two guys while getting fucked in the ass. "I want your balls smacking my face when you fuck my mouth," she begs as she knows she gets one cock bulging under her fit tummy and another bulging under her slutty throat.

The anal destruction continues as Momo keeps screaming. "GODDDD THAT FEELS SO GOOD," guys now sit on top of her dumb face and let her lick their dirty asses while another pair of guys slap their cocks on her face. Gushes of squirt come out of her pussy every time someone's cock hits the depths of her anus.

"Pound my ass as hard as you fucking can," Momo begs to the guys. But little does she know things are about to get rougher as you come on top of nowhere to give her cunt a mating press, restarting the double penetration.

"STUFF ME, STUFF ME, SHIT, THAT FEELS SO GOOD," Momo says as your cock hits her pussy at the perfect stuff. Truly, there is nothing that she likes better than getting double stuffed, her peachy ass getting smashed to the floor by the intensity of both cocks destroying her fuckholes. She laughs and smiles, licking the cock in the vicinity of her mouth while you guys give no rest for her peach.

"KEEP PUMPING MY ASS, FUCKING PUMP ME," Momo screams as you let the young stud do his usual job in her peach before he sticks his hands in her cunt and makes her squirt again. "AHHHHHHHHHH," Momo screams as juices come all over her pussy.

"I want everyone here to take turns in my big fat ass," Momo says as she finishes squirting. All the guys smile. What an anal queen she is. She picks the muscular guy to sit with her ass, making her beautiful big tits bounce hard as she rides his pole. But leaving her cunt wide open, she attracts the other men's attention, who quickly turn her reverse cowgirl into a reverse DP.

You choke Momo and go back to stuffing her marvelous wet Japanese pussy. She rolls her eyes as the young stuf stuffs his cock in her mouth, and your thusts make her tits bounce as you also slap them. "FUCKING POUND THOSE HOLES," Momo begs as she fingers her pussy ready to squirt again. "I CAN'T TAKE IT, THIS IS SO GOOD, I'M GONNA CUM AGAIN," she says as you keep using her pussy, slapping her face, treating her like an object.

"COME ON BABY, GIVE IT TO ME, STRETCH THAT FUCKING HOLE, MAKE ME STUFFED FULL OF FUCKING COCKS," Momo says as the guys take turns pounding her pussy. "Fucking slap me in the face and tits," she continues as the guys use every inch of her body and make her smile like a good whore.

"Fucking choke me, please," Momo begs to every guy that fucks her pussy. Her nipples are now fully erected, just like those five cocks destroying her. "I love the way you guys share me; keep pumping me full of fucking cocks." Momo says.

"We do too," you say, grabbing Momo from behind and placing her under a full Nelson anal while fingering her cunt. "OH YES, USE THAT FUCKING ASSHOLE; I LOVE BEING TREATED LIKE SUCH A WHORE," she says. That anal fucking quickly goes back into a DP as the tattoo guy stuffs his prick in Momo's cunt and pounds her on a mating press.

Momo keeps getting destroyed for a good five minutes by a heavy rotation of cocks in her pussy. "Fucking feed me, give me more," she begs as her bouncy tits get groped from all sides and the cocks bulge under her tummy. "You guys like that? Stuffing all my fucking holes," she rhetorically asks.

"Fucking pound my holes like it's the last time you're gonna get them," Momo says. You guys really picked the right girl for such an intense gangbang, as her stamina and willingness to fuck match yours perfectly even after 30 minutes of rough pounding.

"Feed my ass, feed my pussy, feed my throat," Momo demands. You give her a rough facefuck before tossing her back into your friends to ride more cock, choking her as your muscular friend and old friend get ready to double stuff her once more.

You watch Momo getting double-penetrated like crazy as you feed your cock into her mouth. "I want more cock," is all she can say as you guys go airtight on her and she gags on your pole. "Fucking slap me in the face with your cock," Momo begs as she bends down the floor and gets pumped like a piston by a pair of studs while you treat her face like a toy. "Getting stuffed by so many cocks gets me so wet; I'm gonna cum again," she says as you sit on her slutty face and trap it.

"What are you doing, Momoring?" you ask her. "I'M CUMMING SO FUCKING HARD," she answers. "Say it again to me, whore," you reply. "I'M FUCKING CUMMING ALL OVER YOUR COCKS," she screams, squirting as you get back to pound her face and spank it.

"Let me see those beautiful eyes; you're so fucking pretty," you tell her. "But you know what makes you even prettier, Momoring? A cock stuffing your slutty face," you say. "What about a cock in my pussy and one in my ass?" she asks. "Even better".

Momo gets her ass slapped hard by all guys that fuck her, as all of you toss your shirts out on the floor and get butt naked. "Please, please, more, fuck my fucking ass," she begs, stretching her mouth so hard you feed your cock back into it with ease. The young stud chokes her with his shirt while fucking her ass. Momo is turned into a complete mess now, just a useless cocksleeve ready to be dumped after you guys extract your pleasure from her sexy body following this torrid gangbang.

Momo's body is completely used, her cheeks redder than a ripe peach, her asshole gaped to the size of the moon, but she's determined to keep going, riding on your cock as you spank her ass and clap your balls against her peach. She then bends down in a submissive position for more DP as the young stud stuffs her already gaping asshole.

"Take it, take it, take it, come on baby, cum on those cocks," you order Momo, who's back for more airtight stuffing. "I can't hear you," you poke fun of her as another cock pounds her face. As Momo gets rid of it and tries to scream, the young stud has to shut her mouth.

"OH, I WANT THOSE FUCKING COCKS SO FUCKING BAD," Momo screams as she tries to ride the guys, but they quickly take control of her body back again. "Cock, cock, is all I want," a numb Momo keeps saying, her body sweatier than ever in the Tokyo summer heat.

"Come here, Momoring, suck my cock; I know you're eager to taste your pussy" you order to Momo as you lay on the floor. It was all a trap to bait that stupid bitch, as the muscular dude takes her cunt from behind as soon as you start thursting upwards into her mouth. What a perfect moment for Momo, getting fucked in her pussy while tasting it as well.

"SHIT, AHHHHH," Momo screams as the muscular dude toys with her holes, now alternating between stuffing her pussy and her ass. Her perfect peach getting pounded is a sight to behold as he spanks it. "OH YES, KEEP GOING FUCKING BOTH MY PUSSY AND ASS, USE BOTH THOSE FUCKING HOLES," Momo begs. The old guy is next, flipping her around and doing the hole switcheroo thing as well.

"FUCKING SLAP MY TITS, FUCKING TREAT ME LIKE A SLUT, TOUCH MY BODY, GET YOUR HANDS ALL OVER ME," Momo says as the solo fucking sessions from each guy go on. Choked, slapped, and pounded, Momo is used to the fullest. "DON'T STOP, DON'T STOP, I'M CUMMING," she begs as you end up being the one who gives her a huge anal orgasm that makes her squirt like a water fountain.

"That's what I want—all those cocks fighting for my asshole," Momo says as the tattooed guy adds to her orgasm toying with her pussy while pounding her asshole. "There you go, you fucking sexy bitch," you say to her. "FUCKING POUND THAT ASS!" Momo screams as her legs shake; she sticks her tongue out, and you grope her tits.

The young stud carries a slippery Momo and shoves his cock in her pussy as she smiles. You quickly join him as you two give Momo a DP with her standing on just one leg. "Shove those big fucking cocks inside me," Momo begs as she gets pounded. She just closes her eyes and enjoys the ride. "Oh yes, please, give it to this fucking little slut," she says as both your cocks work in perfect sync to fuck her.

"USE ME, USE ME, MORE, MORE, HARDER, HARDER, FUCK, FUCK!" Momo screams the few words that still can come into her numb brain. You are very unselfish, letting the other buds take turns in Momo's asshole. "Oh yes, please, take turns on me, spread and pump that asshole, stroke, and jerk those cocks off inside of me," she says.

You get back inside of Momo, this time taking her pussy as she remains in the same position, getting sandwiched by a pair of cocks at each turn. Nearly 40 minutes have passed now, but the gangbang is still going on at a very intense pace. Momo is just too sexy for you guys to stop fucking her.

"Pump me harder, pump me harder," Momo begs as she uses her flexibility, standing in just one leg as your cocks can't stop finding their way between it. "POUND ME, POUND ME, POUND ME," Momo begs as she collapses into yet another orgasm.

As soon as Momo is back on her feet, the young stud wastes no chance to get back in her ass, hammering it harder. No rest for the peach is the theme of the day, as every time one cock gets out of Momo's ass, another one is already ready to pounce back in. You and him now lift Momo's body, giving her a carrying DP, but this time switching holes as you take her pussy and he takes her ass.

You two lead the way; no wonder you always found young stud as your best bet to split a girl in half with both your big cocks. He is such an easy learner and pounds every girl hard, just like you, but you had never seen him fuck someone as insanely as he's done to Momo today, as you two trade blows in her holes in a healthy competition to see which cock Momo likes the most.

"OH MY GODDDDDD, OH SHITTTTT, TAKE ME, TAKE ME, TAKE ME." Momo screams as she now has no control over her body; you and the young stud cocks are now her de facto legs as her hot body gets sandwiched between both of you, her real legs fully lifted in the air. The other guys just watch in awe as you guys tear Momo apart. When the young stud's cock slips out of Momo's ass, you quickly switch back into fucking everyone's favorite hole as he holds her for you to pound nonstop while the other dudes get close and grope her big tits.

Momo crowns you the winner, getting down on your cock to taste both of her holes as you captalize on her submission, grabbing her by her wet, messy hair to fuck her face once again. The other dudes encircle her to get their pricks jerked off, but Momo's eyes are all on you, feeling blessed that you could provide her with such an experience after her return to Japan.

The guys take turns fucking and slapping her face. "Oh yes, surround me with all those fucking dicks; slap them on my," Momo demands, her face turned into a drum for all those big sticks. "THAT'S WHAT I FUCKING LIKE, I'M GONNA CUM JUST WITH THOSE COCKS HITTING MY FACE, AHHHHH," Momo screams as she masturbates herself down low and makes the floor even more slippery, squirting all over your feet.

But you guys aren't done with Momo and her sexy body yet. As she masturbates herself, you guys take more turns fucking her face. "Lick my balls," the old guy demands, as Momo goes fully nasty and engulfs it in her mouth. The muscular dude slides in to fuck her face as you watch her masturbate herself, getting eager to slide your cock back in her cunt without her even noticing as she was occupied dealing with her face getting pounded.

"MORE COCK, MORE COCK, MORE COCK," Momo begs as she rides your pole, her tits bouncier than ever as she gets choked. The young stud puts her in full Nelson as more DP ensues. "Stuff it, stuff it," a sweaty Momo begs. "GIVE ME MORE, STRETCH THOSE FUCKING HOLES, FUCKING PUMP THEM," she screams, using her hands to spread her pussy lips as the two cocks keep pounding her.

"My holes are so hungry. TELL ME HOW MUCH YOU WANNA USE THEM, TELL ME HOW MUCH YOU WANNA PUMP THAT COCK IN THERE." Momo can't stop yelling even as the guys start slapping her ass and stuffing her in a fetal position. "STROKE YOURSELF INSIDE ME; I LOVE GETTING STUFFED WITH ALL THOSE COCKS," she continues to scream.

"I fucking love being gangbanged," Momo says. "Next time I want 10 cocks fucking me," she continues, going completely wild and unfiltered as her body gets treated like a toy for your gang's pleasure. "STUFF ME, STUFF ME, RIGHT FUCKING THERE," Momo continues to yell as your crew can't drop double stuffing her, the guys roating between themselves at a franctic pace to take one extra piece of her fuckholes.

"KEEP FUCKING PUMP ME, HARDER, HARDER, HARDER, OH SHITTTTTTT," Momo has gone completely off the rails to this point. That slut can't live without cock any more; one guy out, another in, and she's having the time of her life. "YEEHAW, I'M SUCH A LITTLE SLUT TAKING ALL THOSE FUCKING COCKS," Momo says as she goes airtight and can't even recognize who is who at this point. As long as it's a big cock, she's taking it.

You take one final turn in Momo's ass, giving it a hard pounding as the other guys already prepare themselves to cum after a long 50-minute fuck session with this energetic little flexible Japanese slut. "FUCK ME JUST LIKE THAT, AHHHHHH," Momo screams as your balls smack her peach and her strawberry, thursting inside her asshole at a pace of over five thrursts a second.

The muscular guy and the young stud double penetrate Momo for one final time, just enough to get them prepared to nut all over her. "DON'T STOP, PLEASE DON'T FUCKING STOP UNTIL YOU CUM ALL OVER MY FACE." You and the young stud line up first to ejaculate on Momo's slutty face. "Please, drain your balls on my fucking face," she begs.

And sure, Momo gets it, as the young stud unloads in her mouth while you give her a bullseye cumshot. "Oh, it's so warm. I love getting covered in all that cum," she says. "Come on guys, give me some more; come feed; please, give me your cum," she says as the tattoo guy is the next to nut on her face, followed by the old guy and the muscular guy. "Oh, that's so fucking hot," Momo says as you guys complete a bukkake on her after fucking her hot body for over 50 minutes.

"So hot, I love being covered in five big loads," Momo says. "I'm gonna mix all that cum and swallow it," she continues, scooping it up and feeding it into her mouth. "So fucking yummy," she says as the gangbang is over and three of the guys leave the room, with only you and the young stud left.

Epilogue

"You gave us a great experience today, Momoring, truly the ultimate slut," you tell her. "But we still have 5 minutes left to use our fucktoy, and we are gonna take it," you tell her. "You guys are so hungry; what are you gonna do to this little whore?" she asks.

You and him put Momo on the floor. "Face down, ass up," you say. The young stud enters her asshole, and you soon follow suit. "OH MY GODDDDDD," Momo screams again as she gets to have two cocks in her already sore ass. "Spread that fucking ass; take it; it's all yours; FUCKING STUFF IT," she says.

You two pound Momo relentlessly for one final time, pushing that slut to her limits. "KEEP GOING, USE MY ASSHOLE, MAKE IT YOUR CUMHOLE," Momo screams as you two gape her butthole into oblivion. And you guys know Momo could take three cocks in there with ease. The anal queen of Japan gets gaped to the maximum as you guys toy with her pink anus and its flexibility to fit two cocks larger than a tennis ball.

Five minutes is all you two need to drain your balls for a second time, coating her butthole full of milk. Momo collapses into the floor as both of your jizz leak out her asshole. She's an utter mess, having to rush into the stadium as the manager picks her up and takes her back.

Momo takes a shower and, after some painkillers for her sore holes, puts up her usual great performance. She was truly glowing, and you had a privileged view from your VIP seat at the stadium.

Now you had to make her one last proposal before she departs back to Korea.

"Hi, Momoring," you meet her backstage. She hugs you, still amazed by the experience you gave her. But you're about to turn things up a notch.

"I know you'll be back next week for another concert, this time in Yokohama, and I want to meet you again," you say.

"You didn't even need to ask; I was going to see you anyway," she said.

"Well, then you are gonna love having 10 guys share your body this time, just like you asked me, Momoring," you replied.

"I'll be there no matter what," she says, kissing you as you head home, already preparing for the next week of fun on Momo's hot body.

#momo smut #twice smut #female idol smut #girl group smut #kpop smut #male reader smut

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dyaz-stories · 4 months ago

Text

casual (1) || gojo satoru x reader

chapter 1: i like the way you kiss me

synopsis: Getting recruited for a double position as a teacher for Jujutsu High in Tokyo and a strategist, tasked with assigning missions to sorcerers in the region is the perfect situation for you. It pays well, it's well regarded, and it's as safe as possible — by sorcerer standards, anyway.

There is one problem though, and his name is Gojo Satoru. The one who's supposed to collaborate with you and answer to you.

The one you can't keep your hands off...

word count: 9.5k

genre: 18+, friends with benefits to lovers, coworkers to lovers, canon divergence, smut, emotional slow burn but they fuck like rabbits

warnings/tags (chapter): fem!reader (she/her pronouns, reader is afab), takes place ~5 years before jjk0, teacher!reader, sorcerer!reader, canon-typical violence, mild angst, smut (semi-public sex, fingering [fem receiving], vaginal sex, sorta dom!gojo, corruption kink if you squint), mentioned slut shaming (not the sexy kind), gojo satoru is a little shit

A/N: This is quite the Behemoth of a first chapter, I'm sorry to say. I love really long chapters, but I can only hope you all do too and this isn't too intimidating! This is a fic I've had in mind for ages and finally got around to start an outline for and actually write it. There are actually a couple of drabbles here and there on my blog for this couple already, happening at various points of their relationship.

I really hope you will enjoy this first chapter!

‘Make use of Satoru Gojo however you see fit.’

Such are the first words spoken to you by the higher-ups, at the end of an exhausting recruitment process. You nod sharply at the instruction.

“Duly noted.”

Truth be told, you don’t see why they need to specify it. You had assumed that went without saying from the very beginning.

The job offer had, at first glance, been for a strategist who would work directly under the higher-ups for the region of Tokyo. Devising teams, advising the council, and assigning missions were supposed to be the main tasks you would have to fulfill.

‘Supposed’ because, when you were one of only three candidates left, the higher-ups had revealed that there was, in fact, a second role you would be expected to perform. One that you had not imagined would be available for decades.

A new teaching position at the Tokyo Jujutsu High School was opening up, though you couldn’t understand why for the life of you. You had no connection to the establishment yourself, having left Japan as a child and trained abroad your whole life, never returning for more than a couple of months at a time, yet you knew, as did the entirety of the sorcerer world, that Satoru Gojo had been appointed there less than a year before. Well, rumor had it that he had appointed himself, and you had to wonder if that was why they were keen to have a more… traditional teacher by his side, since firing him was an option.

In that case, your lack of ties to Satoru Gojo, Masamichi Yaga and to the Jujutsu Headquarters could explain why your name ended up being the last one on the ballot. You were the best placed to be an independent monitor.

The distorted voice keeps going, bringing you back to the present.

“Unless stated otherwise, always send him to battle first.”

You school your face so you do not let any emotion appear, though the statement surprises you. You have to assume that they don’t mean for any mission you receive, because that would be catastrophically ineffective. Then again, sending him on Grade 1 missions, if he is available, makes some sense.

“Report to us if you encounter difficulties with him,” the voice adds before falling silent without elaborating.

You understand, from the finality of their tone, that you have been dismissed, and bow your head, your movements polite and sober.

“Thank you for the trust you are placing in me. I will not disappoint you.”

“We know you won’t,” another sepulchral voice answers.

In the dark, candle-lit room, it sounds sinister enough to chill you to the bone. You wait just a second longer, in case something needs to be added, before turning on your heels and walking away. No one calls you back, and you’re more relieved about leaving the room than you would like to admit.

Outside, the summer sun is high and bright. You tilt your head backwards and close your eyes to let its rays warm your face. It will take a while before the cold instilled in you in that meeting room dissipates.

You’re expected in Jujutsu Tech by the end of August. Being a teacher there is as close to the ideal position as it gets, for a sorcerer. The pay is excellent, the risks minimal, and it commends great respect from the society at large. You have no doubt that, had the offer been for that position in the first place, numerous sorcerers far more qualified for teaching than you are would have thrown their hats in the ring. You wouldn’t have made it past the first interview.

You got lucky. Just this once, you’re going in the right direction.

You inhale deeply. For the first time in a long time, you no longer envision your life as an endless successions of missions, countries, and houses that never become homes.

For the first time in the long time, you think you have a future.

There is a spring in your step when you make your way down the stairs, away from this freezing place and the ghouls that haunt it.

Behind you, the Headquarters; ahead, Jujutsu Tech.

Masamichi Yaga is a cautious man. His handshake is warm and firm when he greets you, and though his voice is calm and steady as he guides you through the hallways of Jujutsu Tech, he remains evasive. He provides all the information you might need, answers any question you have when you ask them without missing a beat, and yet you can tell he is guarded, keeping you at arm’s length.

You cannot determine why that is with certainty, though you have a handful of hypotheses. It could just be that he isn’t used to the presence of strangers. Dealing with a total stranger is a rarity within sorcerer society, even more so in Japan. You doubt that he would know anyone who could talk about you, let alone vouch for you. You understand why that would make you a suspicious character.

Another option is that you were forced onto him as a member of his staff by the higher-ups, though you haven’t heard anything about that. With you being a complete outsider, he would not have any valid reason to outright reject your presence, not when his only teacher is frequently gone for days at a time, but that would not mean that he’d be pleased with it — or view you as trustworthy, for that matter.

The third possibility, of course, is that he just finds you off-putting.

‘Cold’, that’s how you are often described by the people around you. You don’t do it intentionally, but you also cannot pinpoint what it is that you do ‘wrong’. Something about your tone, your expressions, or lack thereof, your cold eyes, the way your mouth naturally curves downwards.

That and, of course, the trail of bad omens that you bring with you everywhere you go.

These don’t tend to be active problems when it comes to sorcerers. With normal humans, now, it’s a different story. Oh, there are exceptions, who find that this all makes you intriguing, but it typically makes it hard to build actual connections with other people. You wouldn’t normally care, but in a situation where you have to collaborate with others, you could see that becoming an issue.

You had seen that coming, of course — it wasn’t like it was new information to you. As a result, you had made sure to be on your very best behavior from the moment you’d stepped foot within Jujutsu Tech grounds. You had nodded with interest, you had reminded yourself to smile, you had asked all the right questions, and yet you could feel that you had not once managed to turn yourself into a likeable person.

Ah, well. Not being likeable would not stop you from doing your job right.

“I’ll introduce you to the rest of teaching staff,” Yaga announces, his voice deep, as he reaches a new door. His hand is hovering over the doorknob when he stills, turning to look at you. “Are you ready for this just now? They were both students here, but I assume this can all be overwhelming for a newbie.”

That is a kind sentiment.

“I’m okay.” Then, because answering in monosyllables is not what likeable people are supposed to do, you add: “I read the files available to familiarize myself with the school grounds before coming here.”

His eyebrows jump up behind his glasses, but it’s followed by a hearty chuckle.

“You’ve come prepared.” He nods, appreciative. “Good. It will be nice to have someone who takes their job seriously around here.”

You don’t have the time to question the sentence before he opens the door.

The room is small and reeks of cigarette smoke. In the middle of it, a desk, and behind it, sprawled on an elegant black chair, a white-haired man that you recognize at first glance. You let your eyes slide over him. You wouldn’t want to look too, um, curious, just yet.

The brown-haired woman with the long white coat who is perched on a window sill, doing her very best to look inconspicuous, is the one responsible for the smell. You identify her as Shoko Ieiri, school doctor and reverse cursed technique prodigy. Next to you, Yaga sighs.

“Shoko,” he protests with a paternal disapproval, “I thought you’d quit smoking?”

“I did,” she answers, staring at him, her eyes dark and tired, “and then I had to regrow a lung. Do you have any idea how much of a pain it is to regrow internal organs?”

A light laugh comes from the man in the middle of the room, and you consider that this gives you permission to look at him without coming off like you’re gawking.

He has his feet propped up on the desk, and he’s using them to push himself backwards in a precarious balance. White hair spills on the dark leather, long arms hang on both sides of the chair, and he hasn’t bothered to so much as glance in your direction so far — or at least, you don’t think he has, because white bandages are wrapped around his head, covering his eyes.

Even without being able to spot their signature blue, you know who he is. There isn’t one sorcerer in Japan, nor in the whole world, who doesn’t know his name.

Satoru Gojo, in the flesh.

“Maybe if you hadn’t cheated your way through medical school, it would be easier, don’t ya think?” he asks Ieiri with fond familiarity.

“Don’t—” Yaga takes two steps into the room, kicks the legs from underneath the chair. “—sit at my desk, Satoru.”

Effortlessly, Gojo jumps off the chair before it hits the floor and lands on his feet, facing Yaga. He is just as tall as the Principal, and from the wide grin on his face, it’s obvious that he is thrilled to have gotten a rise out of him.

“Then get me my own office already, what are you waiting for?”

“We’ll see which one of you gets an office first,” Yaga sniffs, and it doesn’t sound like Gojo is at the top of his list. “First, there is someone you need to meet.”

Ieiri has been observing you since you’ve walked into the room, not looking away when you had met her eyes. Yaga’s words have Gojo finally directing his attention to you, though, and something in the room shifts. You can’t see them, yet you know his eyes are on you, dissecting you and your cursed energy, collecting every possible bit of information on you. He walks past Yaga, burying his hands in his pockets as he approaches you. He has an easy smile placated on his lips, but you know when you’re being judged.

Behind him, both Ieiri and Yaga are still, tense. Yaga’s jaw is set, and Ieiri fiddles with a pack of cigarettes in her pocket, clearly itching for a new one. Ah, so this is the real test.

You don’t back off, staying rooted in your spot. He towers over you easily, and you have to tilt your head back just to look at him. You’d heard he was a handsome man, but you hadn’t expected it to be so obvious, even with the bandages on. He studies you, sharp jaw clenching, before the dazzling smile returns.

“Right! You’re the substitute teacher, aren’t you?”

His voice is light and airy, the previous tension completely absent from it. You blink.

“She will be teaching instead of you when you’re away on missions,” Yaga intervenes, “but that doesn’t make her a substitute. C’mon, Satoru, we’ve had this conversation already.”

On that last sentence, his voice turns into a threatening rumble.

“Sure, sure,” Gojo dismisses him without looking back, “and you’re the one who will be giving me missions as well, right?”

He keeps his tone cheerful, makes it sound like he’s just trying to have a conversation, but there is an edge in his voice, a bite. You cannot tell what he is trying to achieve with the question, though, or why he is being hostile, so you choose not to engage.

“Indeed,” you answer, bowing your head politely. “It is an honor to be meeting you all.” You make quick work of giving your name and briefly mentioning that you hadn’t grown up in Japan.

You’re met with silence, Gojo’s lips pressed together as he tries to read you. You do your very best not to give him anything to sink his teeth into.

“Your family’s known for their precognition, aren’t they?” Ieiri asks from the other side of the room.

“Foresight, yes”, you reply. Your answer is rehearsed, polished. Your family has somewhat of a reputation within the sorcerer world, but fortune tellers are a dime a dozen, even among non-sorcerers, and the results vary greatly — it’s not an ability that inspires trust, even for a legitimate sorcerer like you. You don’t wish to reveal too much of yourself just yet. “I look forward to working with you.”

A smile finally forms on her lips.

“Well, don’t take this the wrong way, but I hope I won’t be seeing too much of you. Would be a shame if I had to patch you up. If you want to go out drinking though, just let me know. I know all the best bars in the city!”

“She does, and she’s banned from half of them,” Gojo chimes in. Now that his focus is back on her, his tone is softer; teasing, still, but no longer harsh. “She could use an actual designated driver instead of exploiting her kouhais though, don’t you think, Shoko?”

She laughs at that, sincerely, her eyes creasing.

“Fuck you, Gojo,” she answers fondly.

“I apologize for these two,” Yaga says, wincing at the coarse language. “We’re very happy to have you here. I’m sure it will do the kids some good, having someone serious to take after.”

“Hurtful,” Gojo protests, pouting. “They’re good kids,” he adds, directing his attention back to you. He sounds proud now, no trace of his earlier defiance left. “They’ll be great soon. They just need a little push to get there.”

At that, you nod.

“Of course. I’ll do my very best to help them on that path.”

There is a second, between the moment when you finish speaking and the moment when a wide smile splits his face. In that second, his lips part, and you feel his eyes plunge into you, digging into the very core of your being. He doesn’t look pleased. No, he is sizing you up, and you doubt you measure up to his expectations as well as you should. You’re the only one facing him, though, and when he smiles, just a little too late, it all vanishes like it never happened.

“Good to hear! As long as that’s the case, I’m sure everything will go smoothly.”

It’s said differently, but it’s as threatening as the higher-ups’ last words to you. Still, behind Gojo, Yaga heaves a relieved sigh and exchanges a look with Ieiri that tells you just how worried he’d been about your arrival. To him, it looks like the situation is resolved.

“Why don’t we all go and get a drink together to welcome you properly, if we’re done here?” he asks, walking over and slapping Gojo in the back.

“Sounds good to me,” Ieiri hums.

“As long as we go somewhere with good desserts, I’m in,” Gojo declares, intertwining his fingers at the back his head.

“You better be, Satoru,” Yaga grumbles, “you’re paying.”

“Not sure the Gojo clan has enough money for your appetite,” he sighs dramatically, “but I mean, I can try.” Then, eyeing you, “You coming or what?”

“Of course,” you say, swallowing around the unexpected knot in your throat. “Thank you for having me.”

You follow them cautiously, keeping quiet as the banter continues, hands held behind your back, observing. You had not expected to feel welcome here. You could have done without Gojo’s strange hostility, but with your track record, you had expected far worse.

“Let me know if Satoru makes your life harder, alright? I’ll talk some sense into him,” Ieiri tells you, placing a cigarette between her lips.

“And I’ll beat it into him if I have to,” Yaga adds, snatching it from Ieiri’s mouth and crumpling it between his fingers.

“I’d love to see you try,” Gojo grins.

“Noted,” you answer, “but I’m sure everything will be fine.”

This last part is a lie. Even as he’s joking around with everyone, you know he is still observing you, courtesy of the Six Eyes, watching your every move, waiting to find a fault somewhere so he can figure out what to do with you. You can’t blame him. You will be the one sending him into action, after all, even if the higher-ups would review missions assigned to grade 1 sorcerers and special grade sorcerers. Of course he’d need some time to figure out whether or not you’re trustworthy.

Not that his opinion on the subject matters to you. You’re not the type of person who needs other to like you. You don’t even need him to trust you. All he has to do is let you do your job.

Everything else is futile.

It is no surprise that the first few weeks at your job are slow. The end of summer and the beginning of fall are always quiet periods for sorcerers, and as a result, you don’t have many missions to hand out just yet. The few, low-level ones available in Tokyo are systematically claimed by Gojo before you can look into them, as training for his students.

“Kids gotta learn somehow, right?” he tells you with a grin the first time it happens.

He’s just waltzed into your classroom and he’s leaning over the desk, elbow conveniently resting on the mission files. You try not to think about how brazenly handsome he is right now, even when he is openly provoking you. You stare at his bandages, right where his eyes must be. He may be smiling at you, but there is no sincerity behind it, no joy, and that wasn’t really a question.

You shrug.

“Alright.”

The smile falters.

“Yeah? That’s alright with you?”

“Certainly. If you think these are good exercises for them, and if you plan on being there to supervise them, I don’t see any issue with it. Just return the files if there are any they can’t clear, and I’ll transfer them to the appropriate person.”

He tilts his head. Watching. Assessing.

“You should join us!” he exclaims cheerfully, smile back in its place, clapping his hands together. “The more, the merrier, isn’t that right?”

Oookay. He is testing you. The infuriating part of that is, you have no idea what he is testing you for, what he wants you to display — or fail to display. Trying to see if you’re good enough of a teacher? You have nothing to prove here, certainly not to someone who has been on the job for such a short time. Then again, you don’t see any harm in humoring him.

“No problem. Just let me know when you intend to take care of them, and I’ll be there.”

His smile widens, but you’re not sure if it means you’ve succeeded or failed his test.

“Good,” he hums. “I’ll be taking that, then.”

In one swift movement, he retrieves the files from your desk, and he walks away with them before you can say anything.

You roll your eyes — this whole song and dance are so unnecessary — but you don’t see any reason to stop him, so you just watch him leave. You catch him stopping in the doorway, turning back to look at you. The smile is still dancing on his face, all edge and teeth.

“You’re not what I expected.”

You stare at him just a moment longer, brow furrowing, before he vanishes and you’re left with nothing to look at.

‘Not what he expected’. You turn the sentence over in your mind a couple of times, trying to conjure up an image, a personality that would fit better for the role you’re supposed to play, but nothing comes up. You have two roles: teaching the future generation of sorcerers, and assigning missions. If doing one task can facilitate the other, there is no reason not to do it — and you find it even harder to comprehend why he wouldn’t have expected you to do just that.

You shake your head, willing his words out of your mind. You’ve never felt the need to meet anyone’s expectations, so why should you start now?

Taking kids to a cemetery for a mission seems in poor taste, but that’s not what you tell Gojo when he announces it as his first choice.

“The mission is for a number of grade four curses and a couple grade three,” you state instead, “but considering the spot, it’s likely more powerful ones went unnoticed. Are you sure that’s appropriate for first-years?”

“Well,” he answers, hands casually in his pockets, towering over you with all his height, “it will be good to see how adaptable they are and their abilities in the face of danger. Plus, they’ll have two guardian angels looking after them, won’t they?”

There’s that toothy smile again.

You still don’t know what it means.

“As long as you’re here, it will be fine, I guess” is what you end up answering him with a shrug.

This time, he doesn’t say anything as he leaves, doesn’t stop to look at you.

You suspect that you said exactly what he was expecting from you.

Contrary to popular belief, cemeteries don’t typically harbor powerful curses. The smaller ones are numerous, born out of loss and grief, but the bodies of non-sorcerers don’t take the pain they endured with them in the grave. They leave it all over their houses, leaking through the walls and ceilings, seeping through the cracks in the floor, cursing their loved ones.

Cemeteries remain clean.

The exception to that rule is a notable one. In any place where cursed energy accumulates for long enough, there is a risk for it to congregate to the point where strong curses can emerge. This slow growth means they learn to better hide themselves, and it makes them harder to spot and eliminate. In an ideal world, there would be a sorcerer expedition every other decade to ensure nothing big can develop, but sorcerer numbers being what they are, that is impossible to ensure. There is also a high likelihood that it would be useless anyway, a waste of time and resources, far too much firepower for the bunch of fly heads sorcerers would find.

Still, you keep an eye on the three, baby-faced first years, and chew on the inside of your cheek as they start to make their way through the alleys.

You don’t like this.

“Don’t tell me you’re scared,” Gojo says lightly, next to you. “You’re a grade one sorcerer, aren’t you? There’s nothing more powerful than that here. I’d know it if there was.”

“My evaluation took place in Europe. I don’t know if I would have ranked that high, had I taken it here.”

“Aw, c’mon, if even you think you’re that weak, who’s going to believe you’re strong?”

The sentence surprises a chuckle out of you. A grade two sorcerer is nothing to turn your nose at, but you can’t say you’re shocked that the Satoru Gojo would equate that status to weakness. He is so far off the scale that he would break it altogether if it wasn’t for the convenient, murky ‘special grade’ title.

You look at him, find him already turned in your direction. His lips are parted in surprise. You don’t realize it, but you have somehow managed the feat of getting Gojo’s undivided attention. The Six Eyes are focused on you, dissecting you, taking you in. This is— new. People are predictable. It’s not always a bad thing, though it gets a little boring. You— you keep catching him off guard while doing things that seem completely natural to you.

For once, you’re the one who is smiling, and he’s stunned into silence.

“It doesn’t matter to me, whether or not people think I’m strong. All I care about is—”

Teeth reflected in a pupil. Muscles like lead. A hand raised in defense. Flesh that turns into mist, there one second, gone the next. Clicks like a laugh, coming from behind. ‘Morino Iori — 1954-2010’, splattered with blood. A curse with its head thrown back, an arm coming out of its open mouth, disappearing when it swallows. Tears dripping down from the chin to the ground, barely diluting the puddle of blood that has formed there.

The rest of your sentence is lost when you turn around and take off running.

There is a string of cursed energy pulling you in the right direction, one that found its way to you, one that the cursed technique engraved in your brain knew how to decode. You’re old enough not to question it, not to struggle with the vision, and following it comes as a second nature. Just as you get there, you see Sota rounding the corner slowly, looking around, squinting, searching for something he isn’t finding. Your fingers close around the weapon at your waist, withholding your cursed energy — for now.

To a non-sorcerer, you would appear to be holding nothing but a stick. A sorcerer would know it’s a cursed weapon, though most would not be able to figure out its use.

At least, not until the curse emerges from the fog, only two steps behind Sota. In a flash, you let cursed energy irrigate your weapon, and a blade of sheer energy appears. The stick is now a scythe.

It’s in poor taste, in a cemetery, but you don’t linger on that.

You’re between the boy and the curse before he can turn around. The curse’s abilities must allow it to hide its presence, would allow it to disappear back into nothingness a mere moment after the kill, but you don’t give it the opportunity to do that. The scythe cuts through it like butter, splitting it in two. The two halves haven’t yet hit the ground that you’ve already lowered your weapon, emptying it from cursed energy as soon as you’re done.

“Are you okay?” you ask Sota, turning around to face him as you anchor it back to your waist.

“Um,” he says. He doesn’t look scared, just mildly surprised. “Yes. I’m fine.”

“What happened to seeing his abilities in the face of danger?”

You bite your lip, glancing at Gojo. He is standing atop a headstone, balancing without any struggle and watching the two of you with unmistakable amusement.

“He freezes in the face of danger,” you answer.

Sota’s eyes go wide, and he turns away from you, shaking his head. He isn’t doing it for you, though, but for Gojo.

“That’s not true! I’ve exorcised curses before, you’ve seen me do it!”

He’s desperate to prove himself to his teacher, and something sinks within you. You don’t need a vision to tell you what will happen next.

“The kid’s got a point,” Gojo lets you know. “That precognition thing of yours, how accurate is it?”

There was a time when those words would have sent you reeling back. Even now, when you’re expecting them, you feel the blood withdrawing from your face as he speaks them. But you swallow, school your features. You know better now. Fighting now will only delay the inevitable. Gojo was standing next to you anyway. With the Six Eyes, he must know for certain that you hadn’t activated any sort of cursed technique when you took off running. That alone would be enough to make him suspicious, if he didn’t already doubt you.

Cassandra’s Bargain. Tell the truth, and save only those who believe you.

Unlike others, explaining the workings of your cursed technique doesn’t make it more effective — it makes it useless. If you try to tip the scale in your favor now, you will all pay a high price for it later.

You know what Gojo is implying, about your accuracy. Most people who have foresight see a number of futures. If he suspects you saw one in which Sota died, your actions must make sense to him.

“Enough to keep me safe,” you answer, tight-lipped.

“That’s what I thought. Let’s give the kid a fighting chance from now, what d’ya say?”

That’s not how it works, but it doesn’t matter. At least Sota gets to keep his arm — until next time.

What a waste.

“Of course,” you say with a nod.

You would do it again in a heartbeat if you had to, but you no longer feel threads of cursed energy, threads of fate, pulling you in one direction or the other. Oh, they’re all around you, and you’d know much more if you activated your cursed technique, but you know how it functions. That had to be the worst that could happen. Things should be fine now.

“Start running Sota, you’ve got some catching up to do!”

“Yes, Mr. Gojo, sir!” the kid replies, all but saluting. “I won’t disappoint you.”

Gojo’s laugh at that, as the kid takes off sprinting, couldn’t be more genuine.

You lean against the pristine Morino Iori headstone — it’s disrespectful, and you formulate a silent apology, but all you can do is hope they won’t mind. You’re exhausted, and yet the tension is keeping your body in hypervigilance, refusing to go away.

Gojo approaches you, hands in his pockets. The ghost of his usual smile is dancing on his lips. For once, though, it doesn’t feel mean-spirited.

“We have to save them if they need us,” he says, voice surprisingly soft, “but it’s as least as important that we teach them how to fend for themselves.

“I don’t disagree with that.”

This kind of reasoning just isn’t worth losing an arm over.

Gojo steps closer, leaning towards you, so close his nose is almost touching yours. You suck in a quick breath through your mouth. From up close, it’s much harder to ignore how handsome he is, even without seeing his eyes. You blame your accelerating heart rate on the fact that you’re in a high-stress kind of and you’re particularly pent-up at the moment. If your skin tingles when you feel his breath against it, it’s because of the cold. Must be. Whatever it is, you don’t let it show, and you hate that you’re finding it harder to breathe.

“You’re not what I expected.”

He’s said it before, but his voice is lower now, deeper, vibrating through your body, and something that you recognize all too well twists, deep in your abdomen.

Desire.

You don’t answer. You didn’t know what to say the first time, and you sure as fuck have no clue now — don’t know what he means, don’t know what you’ve done that you weren’t supposed to, don’t know if the interest in his voice betrays the same feelings rushing through you right now. So you glare at him until he laughs, light and airy, and takes a step back.

“If you need me, I’ll be on top of the temple, watching the kids.”

You wait for him to disappear between the tombs, keeping yourself still, too still, probably, to be inconspicuous, and it’s only once you’re sure he’s gone that you let yourself exhale very, very slowly. The urge to laugh at yourself bubbles inside you, because what the fuck is wrong with you? It’s not the right time, not the right place, and not even remotely the right person.

You’re fully aware of all of that, know it in the deepest parts of your soul, and yet your eyes still trail towards the temple. You could imagine that you’re seeing Gojo’s silhouette there, if you didn’t know better.

Except you do. You do.

When you look away, you know full well you’re doing it too pointedly.

You don’t get a chance to involve yourself in the Kyoto Goodwill Event. With the beginning of fall, files are starting to accumulate. Since you’re still getting your bearings in Tokyo and familiarizing yourself with the sorcerers you can send on missions, that is what you dedicate yourself to.

Or, well, that’s what you’re told.

You know that you’re more than capable of doing several things at once without botching any of them. Masamichi Yaga and Satoru Gojo are the ones who disagree. You’re called into Yaga’s office, and Gojo is already there, leaning against the wall behind him. For once, he isn’t wearing the bandages, but rectangular sunglasses. Even from behind them, you see the faint glow of his eyes, and it takes a lot — a lot more than it should — not to stare.

“The students taking part in this year’s event will be exclusively second and third-years. Satoru knows them well.”

“Yeah, and they’ve been training for a that for a while,” Gojo says without missing a beat. Where Yaga is stern and serious, his voice is relaxed and pleasant, lightening the mood without trying to. “The third-years have already won once, so they know what they’ve got to do for a repeat.”

That’s right. Tokyo won last year, under Gojo’s guidance, for the first time since… well, since he stopped competing himself, according to what you’ve heard.

“Satoru had already started putting this year’s strategy together by the time you joined Jujutsu Tech,” Yaga adds, trying his best to sound apologetic. “So there’s no need to concern yourself with that. It’s already well-oiled.”

As far as you’re concerned, the only thing that’s well-oiled here is this routine they’re performing, all for your sake. You click your tongue, not bothering to hide your annoyance, and watch as Yaga’s fingers curl, as Gojo’s chin lifts and the blueish glow focuses on you. There’s politics in the air, you can smell it, with a role you have to play. So they think, at least. Unfortunately, you lack knowledge when it comes to Japanese society, and you cannot quite identify what that role is.

To be fair, you also don’t care for it.

“Was it really necessary to waste all of our times with this charade?”

“I beg your pardon?” Yaga asks in response. His voice thunders dangerously. He’s warning you not to cross a line.

“If you don’t want me involved, you can just say so,” you answer with a shrug. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have missions to assign.”

You don’t wait for him to dismiss you to stand up, rolling your eyes once you have your back turned on them. How bland. You’ve never seen the point of engaging with this kind of theatrics when there are such greater things at play. Having you help the kids come up with a strategy of their own, going over the basics of planning, now that could have been interesting and helpful. It’s not that you doubt Gojo’s abilities in that domain, you don’t, but it is your specialty, and you’ve had to learn to survive with resources that are significantly more limited than his. Instead of doing that, in the name of whatever internal conflict is going on here, the kids have been deprived of that experience.

How boring.

Once the door has closed behind you, Gojo lowers his head, shoulders shaking. Yaga turns around, frowning, only to find him quietly laughing to himself.

“Told you she was a weird one,” he says once he’s caught his breath.

“Maybe,” Yaga mumbles, “but there must be a reason why she was placed here.”

Gojo hums. Outside the office, he follows your cursed energy. It has always been diffuse, fickle, fizzling out around you until it becomes hard to tell where it ends — even for him. Must have something to do with your cursed technique, but he hasn’t seen you use that yet. You go straight to your classroom, where you sit behind your desk to work, like you do every day until it’s late in the night.

Yaga is right, of course. There must be a reason. But you’re at least making it fun for him to figure out.

The Kyoto Goodwill Event does not go over well.

Maybe you should get some petty satisfaction from it, but there is none to be found, just a bitter taste in your mouth. Next to you, Utahime, the Kyoto school teacher, does not look up at the screens provided by Grade 1 sorcerer Mei Mei. She has her eyes on her hands, and she is nervously rubbing her fingers. In fact, while a few outsiders who have come to see the game for their own enjoyment exclaim at the students’ impressive moves, there is only one member of the schools who seems to be enjoying himself, and that is Principal Gakuganji.

Kyoto is methodical in their approach. On an individual level, you suspect that Kyoto is far ahead of them, but as a team, they have come up with the perfect strategy — at least against the Tokyo team. They have done their research, know everything there is to know about their adversaries. Then again, having one member of the Zen’in and one member of the Kamo family on their side, even if neither have access to their families’ historical techniques, must have been quite the help to gather that information.

You don’t see them doing anything revolutionary — if anything, a team such as theirs could have been composed hundreds of years ago — but they have no need for it, not with how brutal they are willing to be, leaving devastation in their wake. They’re prepared, efficient, collected. They’re also quick, having adapted to this modified version of capture the flag, one that involves curses, without hesitation.

Tokyo defends to the best of their abilities. They prove themselves especially capable when it comes to improvising on the spot, which means that Gojo’s teaching works on that front is working, at least. The match ends up closer than Kyoto must have been hoping for, but it doesn’t change the end result.

It’s a resounding victory for Kyoto.

“Well,” Gakuganji is the first to speak as it ends, “that was quite the beautiful display of sportsmanship, don’t you think, Satoru?”

You glance at Gojo, who is sitting next to you. There’s real anger in the way his jaw tenses at the question, but by the time you blink, he’s already relaxed it.

“That was really impressive!” he laughs, throwing his head back and clapping enthusiastically. “They’ve progressed so much since last year, haven’t they? I never imagined they would be able to come this far.”

You press your lips together at the barely veiled insult.

“Indeed, that is what realized potential looks like,” Gakuganji replies, stroking his beard. “Such a shame to see your promising pupils crashing and burning… Although that’s not the first time you’ve seen that happen, is it?”

That is the least charitable way of looking at what happened there, but it is impossible to argue with the facts: Kyoto bested Tokyo. You can’t say you appreciate the way he’s talking about your students, but you don’t think it’s your place to say anything.

Gojo’s smile thins.

“Well, I’ll be looking forward to the individual tournament tomorrow,” Gakuganji adds, standing up. “In the meantime, Yaga, I assume you have planned for accommodations, and all this action has given me quite the appetite.”

He leaves the room with an unmistakably pleased smile, Yaga getting up after him. He gestures at Gojo to join them, and he’s not hiding his scowl when he stands up, unfolding his long limbs slowly. The other sorcerers follow suit, Utahime included, though she is sporting a somber expression too. You’re the only one to linger in the room, in no rush to suffer through more of Gojo and Gakuganji’s quips.

When you do leave, you stop by the infirmary, where you find Ieiri cursing through her teeth as she works on the students. Even though several of them are fully healed, they’re keeping themselves huddled up together, shoulders hanging low, eyes on the ground.

Defeated.

“Professor Gojo has already come by,” one of them informs you without bothering to look at you. “We’re fine. We’ll do better tomorrow.”

“Yes, you will,” you confirm, and you see flashes of hope on their faces, mistaking your confidence for a prophecy. Truth be told, you haven’t seen anything for the next day, but this is often the best way of using the aura that surrounds you. “But you did well today. They saw a weak spot, and they exploited it. As long as you learn from it, there is no shame in this defeat.”

That deflates them, and Ieiri snickers, glancing at you with a grin.

“Quite the pep talk you’re giving here.’

She’s right. You’ve never been good at this.

“You’re all excellent sorcerers, but even you can be defeated by people who are not as good as you, provided they’ve prepared adequately. That is what you need to take away from today. Conversely, you will be able to defeat much stronger adversaries than you, with the right approach.”

Some look thoughtful at your words — most still look just as dejected as they were when you walked in.

“We’ll work on that once this tournament is over. For now, all you need to do is rest. You’ll prevail tomorrow.”

Smiles finally break on their faces, and you take that as your cue to leave, before you can say something that would ruin it again.

You’re in no rush to join the other sorcerers just yet, so you wander through the hallways, intending to go back to the classroom that’s become your refuge in the school. You’re one corner away from it, when the window that leads to the outside slides open, and Satoru Gojo jumps in, right in front of you. It is the second floor, yet you can’t muster surprise.

He shoots you a smirk that knocks the air out of you, but it’s nothing compared to what he does next. He looks back towards the window, looking displeased, and that’s when you notice voices calling for him — Kyoto students and low-level sorcerers. You’re about to look down when he catches you. He wraps a hand around your wrist to pull you away, presses the other on the wall, next to your head, and you freeze. He’s close, and everything you’ve been feeling for weeks at this point comes rushing back in.

“You know what’s a great way of getting people’s attention off you?” he asks, smirk even wider, if possible.

“Wh—”

Then his lips are on yours.

He tastes sweet, you’re surprised to find.

It’s playful, the way he kisses you, a press of his mouth against yours, stolen, daring. It’s also all you need to admit to yourself how badly you’ve been wanting this. That’s why you’re the one who wraps your arms around his neck, kissing him back harder. He lets out a surprised noise into you, maybe a chuckle, but he certainly doesn’t fight it, even if he wasn’t planning on it. In fact, it’s quite the contrary.

He reaches greedily for your hips, pulling you to him and keeping you pressed against his hard chest. When you part your lips, there is not a moment of hesitation on his part before he pushes his tongue in, swirling it against yours. You crane your neck to give him better access to your mouth, all while holding on tight to his neck to lower him towards you. Your back is against the wall, your body arched a way that would be uncomfortable if you weren’t so hot all over, set ablaze by his touch.

When he pushes his thigh between your legs, flexing it so it rubs against you just right, your knees buckle under you. It doesn’t help that, in this position, his semi-hard cock is pressed against your abdomen, and that awakens a very special kind of hunger within you.

There is no softness to the kiss or to the way your bodies move together, just pure lust. Wetness is pooling between your legs already, in anticipation for more, more of him, more of his body, more of his touch. He’s so tall, it’s like he’s everywhere, his scent surrounding you, his body caging you against the wall effortlessly, his mouth demanding more and more of you. You roll your hips against his, trapping his cock between your bodies, and he hisses into you, his grip turning bruising — not that you mind.

“Tease,” he manages to mumble as he takes a quick breath.

There’s no room for any more words before he reattaches his mouth to yours, almost biting into you, and fuck it feels good. His lips are soft, but that must be the only thing that is soft about this kiss. He moves your skirt out of the way, one hand coming to grab your thigh so he can lift it up, and that is when your eyes snap open, some reason coming back to your lust-filled brain at last.

“Wait,” you mumble, “not here.” Your eyes dart around the dark hallway — empty, but far too in the open for your liking. Problem is, your body is aching with how much you want him, and, even if it would be the smart thing to do, you can’t bring yourself to stop now. “Classroom,” you conclude, pulling him with you.

He lets out a breathless laugh, but follows. The second the door is closed, he has you against the wall again, this time with his chest pressed to your back while his lips find your neck, teeth pulling at the skin mercilessly before dragging his tongue on the sensitive area to soothe it. You let out a sigh, but it comes out much louder than you’d intended, almost a moan, and you have to lift a hand up to cover your mouth. He snickers, but doesn’t waste any more time on teasing you.

Instead, he snakes his hand into your skirt, and this time, you don’t stop him. Long fingers move past the hem of your panties to brush against your clit and you jump, biting your lower lip to keep quiet. His lips stretch into a smile on your neck.

“You’re so fucking wet already,” he comments by your ear, rubbing his fingers over your pussy lips, purposefully not entering you.

You groan in frustration, and push your ass against his now rock-hard cock. The low moan he lets out in surprise is delightful to hear.

“As if you’re one to talk,” you reply.

“Is that how you want to play it?”

Before you can answer him, he easily pushes two fingers inside you. They’re long and they fill you so well, you have to focus every fiber of you that’s not lost in pleasure on keeping quiet. Gojo’s free to take his fingers out, then plunge them into you once more, and you can’t help clenching needily around them.

“See,” he says, and oh his low voice, the way it makes his chest vibrate against your back, it all goes straight to your core, making you gush around his fingers some more, “that’s expected of me, ‘cause everyone knows I’m sorcerer society’s problem child. Aren’t you supposed to be the good girl?”

It’s no easy task to think with his fingers pumping in and out of you relentlessly, but even through the haze of pleasure, the words make you frown.

“Says— Ah— Says who?”

He uses the heel of his palm to press against your clit, and you’d conclude that he is actively trying to render you speechless if pleasure wasn’t shooting through you like electricity.

“Hmm, I don’t know, I’d say you’re being pretty good right now, wouldn’t you?”

“Would you— fuck— would you stop talking and just fuck me already?” you still manage to bite out.

He laughs again, delighted and maybe a little fond, but he stills his fingers inside you. You get some time to catch your breath, and use whatever self-control you have left not to try and fuck yourself on his hand.

“You sure?”

“As long as you’re clean, I’m safe,” you say — maybe not your smartest moment, but you can’t find it in yourself to care right now.

He pulls his fingers out, and you glance at him over your shoulder. He’s still wearing the bandages over his eyes, but his jaw is uncharacteristically taut, and his movements lack their usual fluidity. You grin. Good to see you’re having an effect on him too. It becomes even more obvious when he pulls out his cock, hard and veiny. You’re not surprised by how big he is, and you find yourself licking your lips, clenching around air at the prospect of what’s to come. Shit, you cannot wait to have it inside you, stretching you out.

“I’ve been wanting to mess up that skirt for weeks,” he mumbles, mostly to himself, as he pushes it out of the way and lowers your panties.

“Then what are you waiting for?” you ask with a click of your tongue. He is still talking way more than he should.

The smirk he gives you should concern you. He presses the tip of his cock to your entrance, and then, instead of penetrating you, as you’re frozen in anticipation, slides his length against your pussy lips, sending jolts of pleasure through you, but not giving you what you need right now. You whimper pleadingly, not catching yourself fast enough to keep yourself silent. You worry that he will keep teasing, but it appears he has reached his limits too, because soon he is pushing the tip of his cock inside you, and fuck, it’s even better than you’d imagined.

You hear him grunt behind you as he starts pushing himself inside you at a devilishly slow pace. You expected him to do it all at once, so you turn around once more, ready to throw another quip at him for his relentless teasing, but the words die on your lips when you see his face. His teeth are planted in his lower lip, and his face is contorted in a pleasure that he is clearly trying to reign in, his breathing quick and shallow, his chest heaving. The sight leaves you breathless, so you stay quiet.

“So fucking tight,” he all but whines as he keeps pushing himself inside you.

He bottoms out at last, and he stills for a few seconds, all so you can adjust and not at all because he is going to come too fast if he can’t get used to how warm and welcoming you are around him first. The discreet groans he was letting out turn into a full moan when you move forward, pulling him out of you, then back, sheathing him inside you completely once more. You’d keep moving, but he grips your hips tightly, fingers digging into the flesh, to stop any movement you could make.

It doesn’t last long though, because after that, he starts moving himself, and the pace he sets it merciless. The slapping of skin on skin echoes obscenely in the empty room, but you can’t find it in yourself to care, not when you can barely think, not when your knees are failing you and his hands on hips are the only thing keeping you standing, not when tiny whimpers keep spilling past your lips, no matter how much you try to keep them in.

“Couldn’t be even just a little patient, hm?” he asks you. It’s undercut by the gasps that interrupt him, the pleasured moans that escape him too.

This time, you don’t find anything to answer. The angle, with you bent over, hands on the wall in a desperate attempt to stay on your feet, makes you feel so, so full that you can’t think straight. Pleasure is coursing through you with each time he hammers into you, and you clench around him helplessly each time he pulls out. He’s fast, relentless, but if the way his moans keep getting more-pitched is any indication, he’s close to reaching his climax. You’re not far yourself, you just— just need— just a little—

One of his hands abandons your hip, and you would stumble forward if he wasn’t holding you so firmly. His free hand finds its way to your clit, and pinches it expertly, just as he snaps his hips into you harder than he has so far, spilling himself inside you. The orgasm hits you like a thousand volts, and your hips jerk back uncontrollably, whole body shaking, as you ride the wave of it on his cock until it ends. Ah, you needed this so badly that, as it recedes, you can only feel content, the pleasure it gave you still tingling in your body.

For a while, the sounds of you and Gojo’s panting are all that fill the room. Finally, he pulls his sensitive, softening cock out a you with a hiss, and you ignore the squelching sound it makes. He tucks it back into his pants, and you finally find it in yourself to pull your panties back up, readjusting your skirt. Your hair is messy from the kissing earlier, but apart from that, you’re still rather presentable — you hope.

“Didn’t think you had that in you,” Gojo comments. He’s still catching his breath.

“At what point are you going to admit that you’ve just misjudged me?”

He laughs, but the smirk he shoots you, hands in his pockets, standing a few feet away from you, is proof that the distance between the two of you is back to what it was before. You don’t find yourself minding all that much. This is as good a way as any other to release tension, and you’re more relaxed than you have in weeks. The lightness of his voice tells you the same is true for him. Seems like you both got the same thing out of it, and that’s fine by you, even if it doesn’t bring you any closer.

“Once I know I was wrong,” he says. It sounds ominous, but, well, if he wants to keep clinging to that image he’s made of you, that is his problem. So far, you’d argue that it has rather worked in your favor.

You shrug.

“If you hadn’t felt that way, Tokyo would have won today,” you tell him matter-of-factly.

His smile widens.

“Guess we’ll have to see about that next year, hm?”

“I guess we will.”

Silence grows between the two of you. You normally wouldn’t mind. Now, you feel the need to say something.

“This should stay between us,” you finally manage to say. Sorcerer society can be— harsh, on women, to say the least. The last thing you need is for someone to know you’ve fucked your coworker. You’d be branded as a whore, and while you find this all horribly regressive, you’d still rather not have to deal with the fallout.

Gojo hums in agreement.

“I’m not really the type to want all my business out there either,” he tells you in a surprising display of sincerity. It’s ruined when he smirks and adds, “Next time, I think I should fuck you on your desk.”

You scoff, but you know you both hear your lack of denial loud and clear. You’re not opposed to there being a next time, provided this doesn’t get out. By the look of things, it would be mutually beneficial.

You don’t bother to answer him before you open the door, glancing outside. No one in sight. He would have known if that had been the case, of course, but you’re still relieved. You slip outside unceremoniously — it’s pretty clear you’re done here anyway — and he does nothing to hold you back.

Later, after you’ve taken a quick shower in the facilities available at the high school and you’re sat by Ieiri around the dinner table, Gakuganji can barely hide his smugness.

“Where you have been off to?” he asks Gojo, his tone making it clear just how pleased with himself he is. “Licking your wounds?”

“Something like that,” Gojo answers lightly, and you’re careful to keep your eyes on your food.

The conversation fades into the background. Your thoughts move to the upcoming solo tournament, the next day, to your students, to the missions you have to assign. And then, for the first time in forever, you find yourself distracted by something that isn’t work-related. You welcome the respite it gives you.

On your desk, next time, huh?

You could work with that.

thank you all for reading and getting all the way here! interactions are what keeps me writing, so please comment/reblog/send an ask to feed your author and have my eternal gratitude!

tagging people who expressed interest in the first chapter: @sapphiccloud @saccharine-nectarine @calypsothegoddess @aspiring-bookworm @aerismonia

#gojo x reader #gojo satoru x reader #satoru gojo #jujutsu kaisen #gojo x you #jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen x reader #gojo smut #jjk smut #jujutsu kaisen smut #gojo angst #jjk angst #jujutsu kaisen angst #jjk fanfic #gojo satoru #my writing

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holybibly · 2 months ago

Text

More food play, bunnies? You wanted it, now you get it. Unholy thoughts of the day, bunnies: The idea of serving a luxurious dinner on a naked, hot body has never sounded so appealing, especially when the main course comes with sweet, wet pussy for dessert. Or dirty, perverted idols Ateez discover the exciting, sexy experience of Nyotaimori during their schedule in Japan.

Nyotaimori - often referred to as "body sushi", is the Japanese practice of serving sashimi or sushi from the naked body of a woman.

Yunho first heard about it from his friend the last time he was in Japan during a break between comebacks. His friend described it as the most vivid, hot, and incredibly sexual experience of his life. And incredibly expensive too. But as Minhyuk assured him, it was worth every damn penny, and he would definitely go back to this special restaurant again to get supplements. And Yunho thought about it seriously. He even did some research and watched some porn on the subject and some hentai videos, and he has to say that it turned him on so much so that he had to jerk off several times in a row to completely empty his balls and quench his need to fuck.

His dick was so hard and pulsating rhythmically as he watched several guys on the screen eating sushi and sashimi from the naked body of a pretty busty girl with a tiny, slime-stained pussy and then fucking her hard in all the tight, wet holes. They were pulling her onto their big cocks, after which they cum all over her body, covering her completely with their sperm. And fuck, now this sweet, haunting image is permanently lodged in his head.

Of course, his friends weren't left out of Yunho's new dirty hobby. At first he only told Mingi about it, and, as usual, his best friend supported him enthusiastically, and soon they were both greedily glued to porn videos of this style. Gradually, it spread beyond the two of them, and soon the whole group was somehow drawn into Yunho's hot, perverse fantasy of nyotaimori and dirty gangbang.

It got to the point where all the boys unanimously decided that on their next trip to Japan, they would definitely visit this special restaurant that Minhyuk had recommended. And so Yunho found himself in the dark reception area of Deep Dive, one of the most modern and hyped places in Tokyo. And for good reason, as this restaurant offered not only a deep culinary immersion into a variety of exquisite tastes but also into the depths of various sexual practices.

"So, Mr. Jeong, do you have a preference for a host for your dinner?" The woman in front of him looks stunning, but so does the shark looking for its prey.

Yunho clutches the list of preferences that the other members have written down regarding the type of girl they would like to see on the table.

"Ahem..." He clears his throat before he speaks. His cheeks are slightly flushed, but the thought that he is about to make his dirty dream come true makes his dick tense. "We'd like someone juicy..." God, it sounds so stupid, and judging by the way the woman in front of him raises a questioning eyebrow, he is not the only one who thinks the same. So Yunho quickly corrects himself. "I mean with curves, big and heavy breasts, a fat ass, hips, but petite."

"Okay, I get it; continue." The lady encourages him, making notes in her notebook.

"If possible, we want a more submissive girl, maybe into pet play and daddy kink."

"We can give you exactly what you want. What about sexual practices? Do you have any preferences?"

Such a frank, dirty question should embarrass him even more, but instead Yunho's eyes darken and his voice becomes confident and hoarse.

"Voyeurism, size perversion, deep throat, spanking, spitting, objectification, possibly double penetration and squirt, plus of course fingering, cunnilingus, and other classic practices."

"Yes, I understand." She writes something on the notebook again and looks up at him. "Do you want to role play with coercion or are you more attracted to enthusiastic consent?"

"Enthusiastic consent, please. We want her to want it too. Maybe even too much." Yunho bites his lip and drums his fingers on his knee, either from nerves or excitement.

"You're in luck, Mr. Jung; one of our new girls is really into group sex; you'll love her." A dazzling smile appears on her lips, and she looks straight into Yunho's eyes as she begins to repeat his order loudly and clearly. "So, Friday night at eight o'clock, we're expecting Mr. Jeong Yunho, Park Seonghwa, Song Mingi, and Jung Wooyoung at private booth number 8 for a tasting dinner. On our part, we guarantee complete safety and anonymity of your data. The NDA file was sent to you in advance by email.

The menu consists of twelve starters and one main course, which will be served by Miss Y/N, who will also be your host for the evening. Dessert is included. You have chosen the full immersion experience with special services (which implies a full-fledged sex scene). The cost of your dinner is one hundred million yen. Will you confirm your order?" The lady pushed the ATM towards Yunho and batted her eyelashes cutely, waiting for the beep to inform her of a successful transaction.

Yunho nonchalantly swiped Hongjoong's black bank card at the terminal and pressed the confirm button. As soon as the machine made a cute "ding," the receptionist extended her hand across the table for Yunho to shake.

"I hope your Deep Dive experience is truly memorable, Mr. Jeong. See you on Friday."

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squinch-depraved · 3 months ago

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wennie's masterlist !!!

bold = 18+ (MDNI)

!please alert me if a link isn't working!

jschlatt:

schlatt waking you up and using you however he wants

getting caught being a slut on ted's couch

bratty munch schlatt

sex chocolates

ted finds footage of you and schlatt

cnc gunplay with schlatt

double penetration with poly!tedschlatt

breeding kink with schlatt

schlatt hires a hot secretary and can't stay away

giggly sex/mating press with schlatt

phone sex with schlatt

schlatt x fwb!reader hcs

schlatt buys you a maid outfit

schlatt but reader's being a brat (camping p1)

breeding kink but this time he makes your belly bulge

shibari japan fic p1

cnc lc!schlatt

sitting on schlatt's lap when ted walks in

sexy cool reader takes schlatt's virginity (college au)

schlatt eats pussy for the first time (college au)

jealous schlatt (college au)

schlatt steals your panties

hole inspection w/ schlatt

tedschlatt get reader high and take advantage

priest schlatt

spooning and jerking off schlatt

ted and schlatt mommy kink hcs

shower sex + piss with schlatt

feederism/eructophilia with schlatt

mild cnc/intox with schlatt

schlatt x single mom!reader (how you met hcs)

schlatt x single mom!reader p1

schlatt catches you humping a rammie plushie

lc!schlatt halloween party intox

schlatt feeds you leftover halloween candy

schlatt short blurb 1

ted nivison:

getting caught being a slut on ted's couch

smoking with ted and he gets really shy

ted finds footage of you and schlatt

ted shower sex

double penetration with poly!tedschlatt

ted oral fixation hcs

ted cnc stoned reader free use

ted and cscoop three way

sitting on schlatt's lap when ted walks in

tedschlatt get reader high and take advantage

ted and schlatt mommy kink hcs

taking ted's virginity (college au)

ted eating you out with a mustache

tedschlatt:

getting caught being a slut on ted's couch

ted finds footage of you and schlatt

double penetration with poly!tedschlatt

sitting on schlatt's lap when ted walks in

tedschlatt get reader high and take advantage

ted and schlatt mommy kink hcs

cooper cscoop:

ted and cscoop three way

intox + cnc high and scared reader with cooper

soft smut cooper with chronically ill!reader

cscoop sfw & nsfw hcs p1

cscoop sfw & nsfw hcs p2

cooper takes your virginity

cooper taking pictures and videos of you hcs

long distance video call sex with cooper

cuddly sex w/ cooper

cscoop nsfw alphabet

charlie slimecicle:

asking him to take you home from a party leads to more

buying charlie a toy to use while you're gone on a trip

charlie begging to sit under your desk so he can taste you

trying for a baby with charlie

taking charlie's virginity (college au)

making charlie film himself jerking off in a mirror

virgin!college au:

part 1 (taking schlatt's virginity)

part 2 (schlatt eats you out for the first time)

part 3 (taking charlie's virginity)

part 4 (how schlatt finds out about you and charlie)

part 5 (taking ted's virginity)

part 6 (schlatt finds out)

part 7 (foursome...?)

#x reader #jschlatt x reader #schlatt x reader #jschlatt x you #schlatt x you #jschlatt smut #schlatt smut #ted nivison x you #ted nivision x reader #ted nivision smut #cscoop x reader #cscoop smut #cscoop x you #slimecicle x reader #slimecicle smut #slimecicle x you #charlie slimecicle x reader #charlie slimecicle smut #charlie slimecicle x you

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amoeganism · 4 months ago

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HIT BRAKE! sae itoshi

(Sae needs to practice his goals and you… driving)

~3.8k words, humor, fluff, angst if you grab a magnifying glass, use of soccer instead of football (i have too much pride to do that), theyre so polar opposite they unfortunately come full circle and match each others freak

Sae Itoshi returned to Japan with several new things under his belt:

The ability to speak spanish (although his grammar structure can use some help from time to time)

An insane growth spurt

Probably shell shock syndrome

And the scariest new update to a chronic Resting Bitch Face that you had the displeasure of seeing thrown your way when you accidentally ran over his ball driving home. Maybe this is why most Japanese people rely on public transport instead of using their licenses

TWO was the number of times you had failed your driver’s test. Yes, you could always use the bus or ask your friends for a ride, but college doesn’t start for another few weeks and you’re determined by pure stubbornness to be driver certified before starting school. You think you’re doing pretty good so far: no accidents, no being pulled over, no getting cursed, and no one loudly complaining about your skills (no one has trusted you to drive them). The only thing you had left to master was parallel parking.

It was a legacy in your family to be horrible at city parking.

One of your earliest memories was in the backseat of a rental car in a foreign country while your mother tried to park on the side of the street, only to get honked at by cars and drive against the flow of vehicles in a one-way zone.

A bag of groceries lie in the trunk of your car as you drive to your family’s home. Humming along to the song softly playing through the radio, you slow down as you near the residential area, confident that this drive will end without a single thing gone wrong. Without speaking, you jinx your thoughts as you jolt when your car goes over a bump and a loud wheeze follows it. Turning your head to the side, your entire body freezes and your eyes go wide upon seeing the pissed off glare of Sae Itoshi, the infamous Japanese soccer player who just returned from Spain with a sexy tan.

With a shaky hand, you roll down your window and immediately start tumbling over your rushed apologies. You don’t even understand what you’re saying but you hope that Itoshi somehow understands. When he doesn’t react, which is what you expected but it hurts nonetheless, you immediately shut up and tumble out of your car before getting on your knees and seeing what you ran over.

Your hand reaches and pulls out a deflated soccer ball, the entire thing flat with a large hole on the side from when it got run over by your car. You almost feel inclined to inflate it with the tears that are about to spill out of your eyes but the only realistic and socially acceptable choice was to give it to Itoshi and once again, apologize but with words that he and the average person can understand.

Itoshi mumbles a “it’s okay” before taking the ball (can you even call it that?) a once-over. “I have more at home, I’ll just throw it out.”

“Holy shit I’m so sorry about that I can buy you a new one just please don’t sue me I can’t afford a good lawyer, I’m in student loan debt.”

“...why would I sue you?” he asks, his face slightly scrunched up in confusion. It’s not much different from his normal expression, just a slight crease of his brows but it makes all the difference.

“I didn’t mean to assume that you’re gonna sue me, please don’t sue me for assuming!” You think that you should begin to pack your bags and take out a loan to move to another country. It would be easier to be a criminal than to deal with a conversation with a guy who multiplies your humiliation. “I just thought that you might get your super prestigious and rich and wealthy and prosperous and exquisitely-copious-in-currency soccer team on my ass ‘cause I ran over one of their balls,” you nervously rambled. Your face heats up at every word and one Itoshi divides into two Itoshis and two Itoshis split into four.

“Are you schizophrenic? I thought you were normal back in middle school,” sixty-eight Itoshis say in unison.

Your body freezes, the now one hundred twenty-eight Itoshis all morphing back into one. “Wait, we went to middle school together?”

“Uh, yeah,” he blinks, this time looking even more awkward than you. “We were in the same class for two years straight and I sat next to you the semester before I left. I think I would remember the kid who slept through each period but still got all the answers right when called on.”

“Oh!” You perk up at the recollection of a scrawny red-haired boy from five years ago, one who would try to not-so-discreetly look at your worksheet answers and peek at your notes during class. “You’re the boy who would always copy off my work. I do remember you!”

“Is that all you remember about me?” If Itoshi were any other person, you’d say he looked uncomfortable but all he did was tilt his head a little more to the left and shift on his feet.

“I mean, the only reason why you remember me is ‘cause I saved your academics without even knowing. Don’t think I didn’t hear our teacher whispering ‘good job’ to you while returning our tests and how you suddenly moved up in our class rankings.”

“Well you didn’t bother to hide anything when you were snoozing away so whose fault really is it?”

“You were gonna leave for Spain, anyway!” you point out, remembering being pissed off when hearing the reason why your seatmate left was because he was some kind of sport prodigy, basically having his entire future as a star secured at the age of thirteen.

“My parents would’ve killed me and held me by my feet if I flunked.” Itoshi grimaced, kissing his teeth and brushing his hair back as it had fallen over his eyes. His cheeks had returned to its usual color, removing the red flush of running and exhaustion.

“Huh, I guess I should be credited for your success. Spain should thank me.”

“Are we forgetting that I’m the one who plays the sport?” Sae’s voice came out harsher than he intended and cut through the playful atmosphere by the first syllable. His demeanor appeared unchanged but he felt himself tense.

Conversation had never been strong for Sae, only ever talking when he needed to and the most of his words going to his teammates on the field or his little brother. His success was a sensitive subject whether he liked to admit it or not. Spain served as an eye-opener to the teenage boy, being left in a country where no one looked like you and no one spoke your language. The only thing he could rely on was a translator he barely trusted and the expressions of the people around him.

When you don’t respond, Sae observes your face, noticing how you began to fidget with your fingers just as you had when you first stepped out of the car. You weren’t his previous coaches; you were just a former classmate who he happened to run into, or rather, you drove into. It was too late to laugh and he felt slightly guilty at freaking out someone that wasn’t his brother, an opponent, or a bothersome news anchor.

“If you want to repay me for the ball, meet me at the sports store nearby.”

“Sorry, but I don’t really know where you’re talking about,” you sheepishly reply, wanting to sink more into the ground with every word. You decide that talking to athletes is more tiring than playing an actual sport.

“Give me your number, I’ll send you the address.”

You hand him your phone, hoping he doesn’t comment on the horrendously cracked screen protector that you had been telling yourself to replace for months. At the same time, you also want him to notice the small possibility of him offering to buy you a new one, taking advantage of rich people or whatever. “I can pick you up if you don’t mind.”

“Should I trust you to drive me?” he asks, carefully looking between you and your car with his turquoise eyes as if analyzing his opponents on a field, only, this was a residential street and the only other player was a balding middle aged man walking his dog.

“I mean, you’ll be my first passenger so you can find out for everyone else.”

“If I get into an accident I’ll sue you for real.”

“I’ll try not to, I don’t have a job anymore and I’m going to college soon so even if I do please be merciful I swear I have good intentions.”

“Pick me up tomorrow at 11 and I’ll give you a review,” he decides, handing over his phone with the contact ‘Sae Itoshi’ at the top of your phone and the name of a sports store sent to your conversation. You ponder for a moment about asking for a contact picture but you’d like to stay alive for at least one more day so you bid him farewell and sit back in the driver’s seat, hoping he doesn’t hate your taste in music when you turn the radio back on.

—

The Itoshi residence is rather normal, differing from your expectation of a lavish mansion with fountains and fences of gold, given that Sae was a famous athlete and his younger brother Rin was known throughout the prefecture for being a mini Sae. The previous night when you had just finished brushing your teeth, your phone screen illuminated with the presence of a new notification: a text from the older Itoshi.

>make sure you don’t have anything planned for tomorrow

>i’ll need to try each ball out

>you did this to yourself

>shitty driver

A jolt of pain had struck your pride, crumbling your ego at the realization that he was, unfortunately, right about needing to sacrifice your entire afternoon to babysit a (grown) stranger whom you haven’t talked to in years; those conversations were brief, lacking any substance to consider them actual conversations. For a moment, the thought of bailing on him had crossed your mind, the idea of leaving him stranded at his residence while you enjoyed a night in, marinating before a tumultuous college career seemed insatiably tempting.

Disaster struck when you Googled Sae Itoshi’s net worth, his bank account leading you right to his front doorstep.

“Don’t get into any car accidents,” Sae told you as he dipped his head down to step into the passenger’s side of your car. You were suddenly struck with a moment of insecurity; a wealthy athlete who could probably buy your family and your ancestor’s mummified corpses is sitting in your car and is probably rich enough to get away with murdering you for having half a particle of dust fall onto his lap.

You realized you zoned out when Sae cleared his throat, blinking a few times at you with an unamused expression and eyebrows furrowed in judgment. “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine, man. Just trying to remember the name of the place you mentioned. It’s a technique I use where if I think really hard in the same place I was when I thought of that thought, that thought I had thought of can reappear in my thoughtless mind.” You aren’t sure if you understand what you’re saying but you think you can get away with spouting bullshit if you use enough hand movements like a person on TedTalk.

“What the actual fuck are you saying?” Sae doesn’t seem to believe you but you’re an innovator—you simplify the problem down to something the average person (underling) can understand.

“Can you give me the address again..?”

“You’re a freak.”

Sae picks up your phone, which was opened to the navigator app, and quickly typed in the name of the sporting good’s shop he had mentioned the day before. It was a small place, smaller than you would expect a star athlete to go to for equipment but you suppose it makes sense at the same time: less people, less paparazzi, less crazed fans, and a selection of items picked specifically for trained athletes.

“So, uh, are you gonna make me pay for the ball too ‘cause I’m at least, like, five yen in student loan debt,” you sheepishly ask, hoping Sae can appreciate your humility in being a college student, taking a step forward in life by pursuing a higher education.

“How cheap are you?” Sae scoffs, letting out a sound that started off as half of a chuckle but ended as a constipated grunt, making him sound like a diseased lab-grown goat that was raised by war-stricken alien society. You think Sae should become an experimental musical artist if soccer doesn’t work out, sorta like a fucked up version of Björk who’s slightly less musically talented and a total cunt instead.

“I’m not cheap! I’m just curious. I brought my credit card just in case. I’m a responsible adult; this is all for budgeting and logging my payments or whatever else people do to save money.”

“You’re lucky you’re funny,” Sae comments as if it’s the most nonchalant thing in the world. For you though, you almost stepped on the breaks and begged him to repeat what he said. It would have been just another condescending compliment from anyone else but Sae Itoshi is notorious for not humoring anyone in the media and you quickly realized, even those in real life. Before you could doubt your memory, Sae opens his mouth again. “You lucked out on pretty privilege. All the bullshit you say would not slide if it came from any other person. I’m convinced the only social experience you have is talking to a mud wall.”

Any negative statement he had made went through one ear and directly out the other, keeping only the compliments for your brain to process. Without noticing, a giddy smile appeared on your face and to Sae, it was wildly masochistic the way you tolerated his foul personality and even relishing in his attention—no matter good or bad. He could almost pity you, deducing your attitude as a lack of self respect, but you somehow manage to surprise him every time.

“Nah, I think I had a lot of friends. I don’t know if we were actually friends but I knew their names so it’s probably good enough. Speaking of, there was this guy named Kota who I knew when I was seven and he seemed pretty cool until I caught him picking at his feet in the middle of class. Sometimes I wonder how he’s doing and if he’s still collecting foot gunk. But yeah, I think you’re just self projecting with the whole ‘no people, only soccer’ thing and moving to Spain with zero spanish skills. Damn, wait, that’s kinda sad. Shit, now I feel bad,” you take a look at Sae, searching for any sort of discomfort or offense but he simply shrugged.

“It’s whatever, they all bothered me anyways. I was there to play soccer, not make lifelong friends. It’s not like I’m gonna stay in Spain forever. I’m back in Japan to renew my passport ‘cause I know I’m gonna come back eventually.”

“You’ve already made a name for yourself and you’re making insane money that can last more than a lifetime for the average person once your contract is over. It’s not gonna be long before you get onto the Olympic team for Japan. When you do make it on, you better thank me for making sure you kept on playing by bringing you to buy a replacement for a ball I ran over.”

You drove into a parking lot with two other cars directly in front of the sports shop. The building was in the middle of a small plaza, adjacent to an udon shop and a bar. It was undoubtedly an odd place for a sports shop to be and that might have been what caught Sae’s eye in the first place. In the window display, a tennis racket and a pair of soccer cleats are put on display and on the glass door, countless advertisements for events and brands are taped on, each barely correlating to the others.

Right in the corner of the shop is the checkout where an elderly man sits, scribbling something in a beaten journal. There is a stack of newspapers behind him, every issue marked with highlighted annotations and then neatly folded as if it were untouched. Sae greeted the man and turned to find someone else, this time, being a younger man who appeared to be in his thirties or forties. He gave Sae a warm smile and shook his hand, not as a business partner, but as an acquaintance.

It’s here that you realize you’ll never be able to see the world the way Sae does. In your car he was just another boy in your neighborhood that you decided to get to know. But to others, he was Sae Itoshi, a prodigy who could conquer the world with just himself and a pair of cleats. Although his eyes are dimmed and his apathy anything but silent, his shine was lost to know one and when he boards a plane back to Spain while you settle into college, you think you’d be content calling him a shooting star.

Sae notices that you stopped following him and turns around in confusion, tilting his head to motion you to follow him. It takes a breath before you put your hands in the pocket of your jacket and tentatively follow him. It wasn’t until you walked into the store that you truly realized how out of place you felt and if it were just you and Sae, you might’ve thought to ask him what everything did. He’d call you a dense fuck and tell you that he plays soccer, that he doesn’t deal with anything else. You had even the smallest bit of shame so you kept your mouth shut and continued to trail after him, stealing glances at the stacked shelves until the employee came to a halt.

Before you was a wall, lined with four shelves of nothing but soccer balls, each decorated with the signatures of different brands and their series’.

“The guy said I can try them out in the back.” Sae tapped your shoulder and grabbed onto the fabric of your jacket, dragging you with him like a pet cat. “They have a lot of empty space there. You can help me carry everything I want to try.”

Agreeing turned out to be a mistake. In your arms you struggled to carry six different balls, with Sae dribbling one between his feet as the owner of the stop unlocked the door to the back where Sae would be testing things out. You felt like an overworked butler from some bad comic and in your head, you imagined yourself as a fainting princess—a damsel in distress being overworked by the evil kingdom in which she is supposed to be respected.

“Stop being dramatic,” Sae sighed, noticing your dejected pout and lost eyes. He could almost pity you if you didn’t look comically pathetic in the moment, almost adorable if he wanted to be slightly sentimental. “You can put them all down now. Just sit here and wait. Take a nap or something, you’ll be fine.”

The lack of standards you have would be an issue to address at a later date because the barely comforting words of the ever eloquent motivational speaker Sae Itoshi had you immediately perking up and cheering for him.

“Go! Go! You got this! Get that goal, ugly!”

“Who are you calling ugly? I could knock you out with this ball, you know. If you want to be supportive, don't be a freak.”

“Are you really gonna disrespect the only fan you have at the moment? What if I tweet about this and get you canceled or some shit?”

“Do you really think I care about that?”

“...no…”

“...”

“Whatever. Do what you want.”

“Kick that ball, little boy! You’re a prodigy! Number one soccer player in the world! Bend that net over!”

—

By the time Sae had finished shooting several goals and alternating dribbling between them at least five times, the sun had set and your throat was sore from bullshit cheering, half of which were incoherent sounds of moral support. Sae grabbed an unopened box of the ball he had chosen and denied a pump when offered one. When he placed the cardboard packaging onto the checkout table, your wallet was in your hand and ready to check out and pay off your debt to the Itoshi.

However, you were met with a receipt in your hand instead and a farewell from the owner, bidding you and Sae a happy rest of your day. You quickly turned your head toward Sae, mouth agape as your brain twitched, trying to process if he was fucking with you or not.

“Do you want me to pay you online or write a check or what? Wait, why did you pay? I thought I owed you it? My complaining earlier was all joking. I literally popped your old ball. The least I can do is pay for a new one!” You rant, quickly taking your phone out of your bag to open up your banking app but Sae was quicker to take your hand in his and bring it down to where it was before.

“And I was fucking with you too, dumbass. Or are you too stupid to remember back in the car how I didn’t respond to you asking if you needed to pay? Start listening, will you?”

“I think this is the meanest act of generosity I’ve ever seen.”

“I’m not being generous, I’m telling you that you owe me something else.”

“What the fuck?” You’re perplexed by the audacity of this man. You hope his athletic career flops and every brand deal that he has gotten offered drops him. “Are you gonna start charging me an insane amount of interest like a loan shark? Dude, aren’t you rich?”

“I’m not asking for money.”

“Then what is it?”

“Go on a date with me.”

“Are you being for real right now?” You’re still perplexed by the audacity of this man. You’re perplexed by how his words are chosen to form the most foul sentences with sweet meanings. You’re perplexed by how out of all who know him, and all whom he knows, he would take an interest in you. But you’re a selfish person—if Sae Itoshi is offering his beauty and his awful personality to you, then you’ll take it with all your heart.

You move to Sae’s side, putting everything in your hands into your bag and intertwining your fingers with his, a dumb smile planted on your face. As you skip to the car and swing your hands between the two of you, Sae Itoshi’s grin is highlighted by the golden glow of the setting sun.

He really can’t wait to come home.

#itoshi sae #itoshi sae x reader #sae itoshi x reader #sae itoshi #blue lock x reader #blue lock sae #blue lock itoshi sae #bllk sae #bllk itoshi sae #bllk x reader #bllk fluff #bllk #blue lock #blue lock fluff #this fic is my farm fed organic almond baby

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