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tonycries · 8 days ago

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50 Shades of Kento - N.K.

Synopsis. You help your hot uptight boss blow off some much-needed steam, and he makes an absolute mess of you - that annoyingly flirty new employee of his. Deal?

Pairing. Nanami Kento x Reader

Content. MDNI, fem! flirty!reader, CEO! Nanami, office AU, pánty-stealing, jealousy (Nanami’s side), Higuruma cameo, he goes FÉRAL, ROUGH S, chokíng, semi-public, manhandIing, p talking, p sIapping, spítting, slight angry s, he’s BIG, cervíx kíssing, talking you through it, oraI (fem rec.), creampíes, cúmplay, male mast., ínnuendos, no curses AU, slight bóndage, use of “work wife”, proposals, pet names, swéaring.

Word count. 9.7k

A/N. CEO Nanami? I wanna be SAVED.

“-the boss looks really mad-”

“-where’s he storming off to before the meeting?”

“Bet he’s going to fire someone again-”

Now, it’s not like Nanami Kento intentionally built himself such a painfully strict reputation in the office.

In fact, he’d spent the first few months as CEO wondering just what he might have done to make it so that none of his employees could even look him in the eye. Hell, they barely even seemed to breathe whenever he passed by.

All of them except you - that pretty new hire always buzzing around his department. Even when it might not be too…professional.

But, right now, professionalism was the last thing on his mind.

“Dammit. Dammit.” Nanami’s hissing, sharp edges of his pearly whites sinking into his bottom lip to stifle away a ragged moan. Hard enough to bruise when he shuts the nearest bathroom stall with a resounding clatter! “B-before a meeting, too-”

Barely wasting even a split-second before unbuckling his belt and inching his greedy hand past the too-tight hem-

All because of you and that damn skirt.

“God fucking dammit-” His voice tumbles out in heady puffs into the air, murked with a growling tint of desperation.

Fingers usually so dexterous and deft whenever he’s typing away, now fumbling with the mere latch on his stubborn zipper. He’s spitting out a few slews of profanities before panting out an impatient tut and all but ripping his formal slacks down to his knees.

Nanami’s sculpted thighs weaken, smearing out widely as he leans his back against the firmly shut door with a groan. Cold against his feverish body.

Shit, he’d barely even touched himself yet already feels like he’s melting.

Because Nanami wasn’t just rock-hard - it was as if his swollen cock was built out of fucking diamonds.

Hot. Heavy. Sobbing out a glistening streak of precum that slobbers access his washboard abs and wayyy down to his tawny happy trail. He wanted you. He needed you.

“Fuh-fuck!” He gasps, instantaneously clamping his delirious mouth shut. Loosening that yellow speckled tie just so he can breathe, “Never been sooo fucking h-hard. Shit this isn’t- fuck.”

Achy red shaft throbbing out a needy ba-dump—! in his meaty palm, ribbons of treacly pre splatter in copious torrents down to his angled wrist. He’s making such a puddling mess all over the tiled floor, swiping up the fatly padded curve of his thumb to plug up those never-ending droplets.

“N’ this is all your hngh- fucking fault.” Nanami’s canines glint in the dimmed lighting, snarled at that strawberry pink blush on his mushroomed tip. The very same shade of pink to match your flimsy panties today. Fuck. “Should fire you. Should really, r-really…”

But the heaving man can’t even finish those syllables, can barely even finish his thought before it’s once more overtaken by that image of you from only a few simple minutes ago.

Knees bent to pick up some useless document for the meeting, too-short skirt hiking up just enough to flash him a good eyeful of your cute pink panties. You looked like the sweetest fucking dessert in it, and that adorable bow fastened onto your underwear was just the erotic cherry on top.

That memory was going to burn behind his lids for the rest of his life. And oh, he could tell.

That glint in your gorgeous eyes - how you’d batted your lashes up at him in exactly the way that made him gulp - told him everything he needed to know.

You knew. Oh, how you pissed him off.

“Sh-shit.” The thought makes Nanami’s poor heart race, plump balls twitching oh-so-eagerly when he dips into the side of his pants pocket to pull out something treasured. His secret good luck charm. “Know exactly what you’re fucking- hah- doing t’me. W-with your damn panties, n’ those skirts I hate and- and-”

And if anyone else had seen the uptight CEO of Jujutsu Tech right now, then they would have fainted. Undoubtely. Because dipping out of his pocket, he’s pulling out nothing but a frilly black garter.

Yours.

The very same one you’d “accidentally” slipped off in your chair after a meeting with him last month.

“Mmm—” He’s drinking back a few swallows of candied saliva once he brings the gauzy fabric up to his nose and sniffs. Long. Hard. The stuffy stall air notches up a few scorching degrees higher when Nanami curls his free digits around his bulky base and squeezes. “Bet that pretty pussy smells even s-sweeter.”

The thought only makes his slacked maw water even more guiltily. Bet you taste sweeter, too.

And like an animal, Nanami’s hunching his Herculean body over to spit out a steady stream of saliva right onto the bawling divot in the middle of his bloated cockhead. Watching it slosh in rivulets down his pulsing length.

Calloused thumb swiping over the weighty masses that top his filthy length like buttery icing. Biting back a whimper and tugging. He can’t stop.

“L-look how fucking hard y’got me–” He’s babbling away underneath his breath, clammy foreskin drawling up and down like adhesive with every roughened jerk. “All your fault hck! All your fucking- ptwah!” He gives himself another one, two, three more wads of excess spittle over his crownhead, taking a solid lick of your pretty garter. He breaks off with a pained mantra. “-fault.”

And shit, Nanami doesn’t know when he found himself acting like such a…pervert.

But he blames you. Blames you and the way that thin lace of yours looks so sinful wrapped around his thick cock. Round n’ round coiling to massage every thickly inflated, lightning bolted vein-

“Hate how I’d never d-do this before-” He’s spilling out in throaty groans, swirling mahogany eyes widening at the sultry scratch of it up and down up and down his tender underside. With trembly fingerpads his smushing it all over the delicate curvature of his balls, “-before…you.”

And, shit, Nanami had a meeting in what- a few minutes? He can’t help but thinking about what his clients would think if they knew. What his employees would think. What you would think.

Would you…like it?

A muggy gust of air heaves out of his chest, sweat-slicked brows crinkling at the direction that those thoughts had just taken. Precum clinging onto his skin like adhesive, he fucks his fist like he’s angry.

He is - at you and every teasing touch of yours that makes every ounce of blood sprint down to his heavy cock. You, with your sunny smile and your eyes dazzling as if you weren’t just undressing him with your gaze. You, and your pretty outfits and stupidly sexy panties that make him run off right before important events-

“Gonna fucking- p-pay for this-” Nanami’s nose crinkles when he’s tugging his claggy white undershirt underneath his firmly grit teeth. Free hand straying to twirl little hearts over his puffy, bubblegum pink nipples, his tensed abs flex with every jerky buck. “-gonna- ngh-”

Gonna shove you down and make you feel just as needy as he is. Oh, Nanami’s thumbing underneath the heated line of his slippery slit, musing away just how much your clingy pussy would smooch it even better.

“Wonder if I could ngh- fuck you stupid-” Nanami finds himself chuckling - chuckling. Low and crazed, plump lips twitching up at the sparks of bliss at the bottom of his abdomen. He was furious at you. “-would ya still be mouthy? Slutty? Ohhh, darling, I fuck you in every ngh- dream I have.”

And isn’t that what you wanted? What you’ve been driving him crazy for every since you stepped foot here?

Joints in his wrist aching with that sloppy tempo, Nanami thinks he almost catches a rim of battered, stinging pink right where his fisted hand was hitting his toned abs.

What he’d give to make your pretty pussy feel just as if she was his- what was it you call him?

Ah, Nanami’s blossoming-red tip flinches as if being hit with a zillion volts of electricity as your words echo in his brain, his favorite melodic tune. His “work wife” was what you call yourself.

“Tch, damn work- wife.” He’s murmuring, a blotchy blush taking over his handsome features - burning all the way up to the very tips of his ears. Fingers trawling faster and faster. Sloppier. He’s spraying out sheeny ropes of pre with every bruising pull off his swollen length. “Gonna show ya- gonna ngh- for how you make me- gonna make ya mine-”

“Kentooo? Are you in here?”

Fuck.

Without warning, Nanami’s teeth come latching harshly into his fist - he needs to.

He has to, because just the mere notes of your voice from the other side of the door is enough for his ballooned balls to give a depraved pinch. Enough for him to cum.

Shit. Nanami’s head falls back against the wall, letting off strained gruffs around his flesh.

A slow trickle of sweat beads down his temple at the sweltering splash of his undershirt being coated with vulgar cobwebs of thickly viscous seed - so much. Hot.

And Nanami always did cum more whenever he thought of you - but this was almost too much. Such heaping volumes that it was like he couldn’t stop. Soaking your sopping garter, pooling out swashes of cum that formulate a sticky ring down his fingers. He’s leaking from his twitchy tip over n’ over-

“Fuck-” he’s hiccuping out, vision sparking with stars. He was too late - too entranced - to plug up his geysering orifice now for any semblance of order now. He hated how he was so weak for you. “Fuck fuck fuck fuck- fuck!”

You really have corrupted him, because Nanami doesn’t feel even a single speck of shame when he leans even further against the door. Biting the insides of his cheek into silence, his ringing ears crane to hear just a syllable more of your tone-

God, he feels dirty.

But victorious.

“Well, the meeting starts in a few minutes.” Nanami feels himself blush, he doesn’t give a single shit about some meeting - not when those words are enough for his aching cock to dredge out a few more ivory ounces that hit the tile with a deafening pap! “Hurry up, m’kay? It’ll be real boring without you, Ken—”

Minx.

And Nanami doesn’t know what’s louder - the creaking shudder of the now-broken door hinges as you saunter out of the bathroom, or his beating heart.

Pulsing halfway out of his chest - not only at the fuzzy high of his orgasm, but at you. You, and those cute lil’ panties no doubtedly hidden away underneath your tight silken skirt. While you pretended to be all professional in the meeting that he is supposed to lead.

Dammit. Nanami’s head drops incredulously when his reddened cock gives another ravenous twitch. You were going to be the death of him.

You had no idea why everyone in the office was either scared senseless of your boss, Nanami Kento, or simply too intimidated by him to feel anything else.

No one knew much. No one sought much.

But you knew that your self-proclaimed “work husband” was a gentle giant, surely - you’ve caught the way he silently comes into the building early with snacks for the break room, and leaves the latest personally finishing up documents he deems imperfect. What you simply didn’t understand was why no one else saw how hot he was.

Didn’t they see the absolute specimen of a man that towered around daily in tightly-fitted suits and perfectly combed blond hair?

Those big, beefy arms, long lashes you’re almost jealous of, and regal features that dusted an innocent pink whenever you teased him too much. Always so worked up with the stress of running a company, that you couldn’t help but wonder if that would translate into bed.

Honestly, after years of men that disappointed and bored you - especially down there - could you really be blamed if you made things a little…unprofessional?

And you could tell that Nanami wasn’t complaining.

Oh, he wasn’t complaining at all.

No matter how much he’d falsely scowl or tut - you’d already “lost” one of your black garters, and you swear you saw just the slightest centimeter of it dangling from your boss’s pocket.

The all-powerful CEO, but so weak for you.

What you really didn’t understand was why he didn’t take things to the next level.

You’d initially thought he would during your training period, whenever you’d stuck by him with your trusty notepad and tightest silky blouses that Nanami loved to pretend he wasn’t looking down. Always snapping his glassy eyes away after taking a long look at your bra, toying with his velveteen ties as if trying to choke either the hunger or the life out of him.

But when that came and ended, and you’d finally been awarded a permanent position, you finally got the chance to…have a little more fun.

Your favorite pastime was getting on your knees because of how oh-so-clumsy you are, brushing just past Nanami’s tersely bouncing knees. Lingering mere seconds longer when he presses his meaty thighs into you hotly.

“Oh?” It was like a little routine at this point, for you to faux gasp from your position on the floor as if you’d just noticed the touch. Each and every time. “My, how forward of you, work husband.”

Only to immediately get a choked-up groan of your name, and extra documents to finish by the time the work day was over. Worth it.

Because you had made the ever-stoic Nanami Kento blush.

And the employee groupchat would text you about it for hours on end. Some swooning. Some skeptical. The rest of the office thought you were either very brave, incredibly slutty, or plain stupid. Possibly all three.

But seriously, you bite your lower lip to force down a giddy giggle when Nanami catches your winking eye for the nth time this past hour. Hastily looking back towards the hefty contract each n’ every time with a furiously grit jaw. He was so bad at pretending he didn’t want you.

Too bad you were getting impatient.

“Right!” Comes the booming voice of a businessman that’d just secured a lucrative contract, you snap out of your whirlwind of thoughts when your client- President Higuruma from Kyoto Corporations, you think - stands up. Oh, the meeting was already over? “Now that the hard part is done, why don’t we all get the celebrations in, Kento old pal.”

They’d known each other a long time, you hear. And had apparently been rivals prior to forming this close relationship.

You think that your poor boss has never looked more grouchy than when he shrugs off Higuruma’s sociable hand off of one broad shoulder. Staring longingly at the clock that showed you’d all run way into evening overtime, “I’m not much of a partier myself, Hiromi.”

“Don’t be ridiculous, when you have a team as good as this, then you simply must treat them.” The other man sweeps his dark eyes across the room, resting ever-so-slightly on you. “Or else the pretty ladies here will think you’re boring.”

“I-” Oh, you should’ve gotten tips straight from Higuruma - because Nanami’s cheeks ruddy. Eyes narrowing at you, then darting to his friend, “-I’m terminating our contract.”

“And I’m taking you to crack open the good whiskey I know you hide in your second drawer.” To everyone’s shocked amusement, Higuruma lugs his all-new business partner bodily out of the door. Words carrying from the distance, “You know you never did tell me whether you got a padlock for that drawer because of me…”

You’re still careening towards the glassy door to hear more snippets of that conversation when suddenly you hear a loud SMACK!

It hits your ears right before it hits your senses that Shoko had turned over in her seat beside you and planted a harsh swat on your arm. Hissing at the ache, you’re huffing at her knowing smirk, “What if I’m into that?”

She snickers, giving you another resounding strike just for the sake of it. You really, really didn’t know why the two of you were friends-

“Oh, I bet our boss would know, then.”

Kidding, of course you knew. And you can’t stop yourselves from falling into your familiar old gossip, the rest of your coworkers listening in curiously be damned. “I wish. You should’ve seen the way he reacted when I fussed over his tie before this. Seriously, it’s not my fault it was crooked for once n’ he almost ran away.”

“Ran straight back into the bathrooms, you mean.” She’s wiggling her brows, stopping only when you tilt your head curiously. “Oh- shit, you didn’t know? I heard from Utahime who heard from Yaga who heard from Ijichi who went to the bathroom that uptight CEO Nanami here was almost late to the meeting because he was having a fun little him time in there.”

You hear yourself gasp- no-nonsense, sensible Nanami Kento? Touching himself in the bathroom? “That’s why he looked…so fucked out. No.”

“Yes.” She nods seriously. “And you know what’s even better?”

“What?”

“Ijichi - who was hiding underneath the sink out of fear, by the way, pfft- claims he’d been holding onto a frilly black garter.” Pointing very blatantly at the practically skin-tight skirt you’d decided to wear today. “And I know someone who just-so-happened to ‘lose’ a black garter in the office.”

“What-” you’re sputtering out, not because of the accusation - no, Shoko knew all about that - but about the confirmation of your suspicions that Nanami really did have your lacy lil’ number. “But if he liked that so much then why doesn’t he make a move?”

Shoko crosses her arms with the wise air of someone that had just solved the answer to the meaning of life, and was intentionally being coy about it. “Don’t you realize that you have the perfect solution for that?”

“What?” Wow, you really were on an eloquent streak today.

Just then, the heavy meeting room doors slide open - and in walks a sternly reluctant Nanami and Higuruma with too many dozens of prized alcohol. Said Higuruma who winks at you garishly-

You glance at Shoko’s smile, the kind she gets when she’s about to cement a contract that would result in several lawsuits that she already knows your company would win. Oh. You get it.

And so does Higuruma, apparently.

Because even though he might not know of your little plan, the man was more than happy to keep you company amongst the thrumming masses celebrating.

Somehow, the entire department had been roped in and packed inside the sprawling meeting room. Mingling over dim lights and softly playing music from the corner of your impropmtu office party.

Which worked out in your favor, surprisingly, as it gave you the opportunity to eye a stony-faced Nanami’s reaction - stood right next to you when you leaned against Higuruma with a wheezing laugh.

“Has anyone ever told you that you’re really funny, President Higuruma?” You’re tittering out and, admittedly, his humor was amazing - but what was more interesting to you was the way that Nanami’s neat brows furrowed.

“Mhm, you’ll just have to get used to that, sugar.” You swear you hear the glass in Nanami’s vice-like grip clink! Thickened digits, so easily powerful and tightening until his mountainous knuckles shone white. “After all, we’ll be working together to take care of some big packages now.”

You feel your lips curl up into a sleazy grin, eyes locked dead-set on Nanami’s own. “Yeah, I’m quite excited to be handling those big packages, actually.”

Higuruma raises a brow, “S’that so?”

“Of course.” And if you inched in ever-so-slightly closer to him, if you let your voice dip saccharinely in honey, then Nanami couldn’t do anything about it. Nothing but spill out a sharp huff, mouth tightening into a harsh line across his pretty face. “I only hope they’re bigger than what Jujutsu Tech has currently been working with.”

“Oh yeah, much bigger.” Nanami looked positively like an explosion just waiting to go off, and you didn’t know whether it was slight fear or anticipation that made your thighs clench sinfully together. “This contract will be like nothing you’ve ever seen.”

“The bigger the better.”

You risk a glance downwards, just barely catching the way that your dear boss adjusts his sleek formal pants down near his thigh. Oh, lips parting, he was big, huh? Really big.

And the quieter Nanami grew, the more talkative Higuruma became. More confident. “Pardon my forwardness, angel, but are we still talking business here?” And then comes the finishing blow - before you can blink, a strong arm latches onto your waist. “Because if we aren’t then-”

SLAM!

It’s all you can do to not shiver when you turn your gaze over to Nanami, who’d just clanged his half-full glass down on a nearby table. Veins bubbling with voltage from head to toe at the sheer metallic glint of something dangerous in his targeted gaze.

Locked purely and utterly on you.

You can see the way his sharp jaw jumps with a furious tick. Fawny strands of blond curtaining over his furrowed brows, that slightly bumpy trail of his vein-

“I believe my employee is out of line, Hiromi.” Nanami bites out those words - sharp, and rugged. Piercing through your figure and sprinting right down to your heating core. The grin he gives you makes you shudder, “I will correct that.”

What?

“Ken- ah!” You’re yelping when Nanami doesn’t give you the time for it to sink in, for you to even register anything other than the way his massive palm locks around your waist tightly.

Doughy pads of his fingertips dig into the curvature of your hips, and you almost get whiplash at the tug of Nanami’s strong arms stealing you away from Higuruma’s touch. Tucking you into his blistering hot side, you think you feel dizzy with just how heady the combination of skin and cologne was.

And then you leave - the both of you. Higuruma only calling after, stricken.

You’re walking - or, at least, it feels like you’re walking. Almost on autopilot, you’re stuck on the firm set of Nanami’s jaw when he guides you briskly through the throngs of people.

“Kento-”

“What now, darling?” Darling? He’s never ever called you that before. Never manhandled you with only one of his arms until you’re striding - running - down the familiar route to his richly-kept office.

Oh.

Your own fingertips dig into the shimmering fabric of his fitted suit jacket, words coming out a little bit more breathless than you’d have liked. “Ken- sir, what are you-”

But, of course, Nanami Kento never let up that easy. Of course, he would never let you get the last word in if he had the chance. And tonight was all about chances.

Whatever probing question dies in your throat when Nanami pauses - for a mere split-second - although it feels like hours in slow motion before he bends down and jostles you into a princess carry. Firm curves of his biceps digging underneath your thighs, a tender palm splays out across your back.

Yet, the way that he’s staring deeply down at you is anything but.

“Oh, you know what the fuck I’m doing.” He wrenches out, vibrating you with the rumbling baritone that husks from his chest. So close that your own heartbeat matches with his fervent ba-dump! ba-dump! ba-dump! Each word just coated and dripping in something so raw that you barely even notice until after he weightlessly carries you past that familiar arching doorway. “It’s what you wanted, after all. Isn’t it?”

Dazed. Until the metallic click! of the door being locked by one of Nanami’s hands pull you out of your whirling thoughts.

He’s striding inside fast. Depravedly.

“Is that jealousy I hear?” You sing-song, fingers trailing up to rub over his fuzzy undercut. And the moment you touch him, it’s like something in Nanami snaps. Something in him blinks…awake.

“Stop that.”

Wasting with not a single nanosecond of hesitation before cupping his greedy palms on the squirming curve of your ass. He sneaks in a nice, long squeeze with one hand, the other facing down on the table in a long swipe to clatter down everything but that golden CEO Nanami nameplate onto the floor.

You suck in a sharp inhale when he splays you out like some spellbound slut on the cool surface of his mahogany office table. Unceremoniously.

You’ve never seen him like…this.

He spanks his thick fingers along where your sinfully tight skirt was perking up to show off skin that makes Nanami’s mouth water. That makes him angle his head greedily for a flash of those very same pink panties that had him forgoing all duties earlier today.

“Trying to make me fucking jealous. You forget your place, my love.” His index toys over the ribbony straps of your underwear. “I’ve been crazy for you since you stepped foot in this place. I’ve been yours.”

You, on the other hand, were still reeling to make your jumbling thoughts somewhat coherent.

Rutting up into the merciless weight of his sculptured front pinning you down - Nanami’s body was feverish. So hot that it made your skin break out in a humid layer of perspiration, you felt so hot. You felt like you were melting already.

And his muscles, oh- even through a jacket, and that cotton button-up you so loved on him, he was so toned that you could count every delicious ridge of Nanami’s glissading abs.

Rounded centers of your knees attach around his slender waist, you’re gasping at the firm plane of muscled obliques that welcome you. “N’ that’s what made you jealous? Heh- that’s so cute- mmpf-”

“Does it amuse you to break me, my love?” Nanami grapples two of his tough digits to smush your cheeks together, sultry leer piercing its way through his mask of fury. He growls, “To make me fucking furious?”

“Ngh- Kento—” The whimpers just won’t stop spilling from your lips, his gaze drilling into your eyes and falling straight to your drenching cunt. Your hips arch needily off of the icy cold wood to nudge your pussymound for more more more- “I- fuck-”

SMACK!

“Talk to me like a big girl.” He hisses, knotting his fingers around your tender throat so tight. Tight enough to drain you of the necessary volumes of air strangling in your throat, letting only a few weepy gurgles leave your mouth. Hard. “Ah ah, a big girl I said. If you can talking with fucking- President Higuruma, you can talk to me.”

“Want- want-” Your nails claw patterned lines that paint across Nanami’s muscular forearms. “I want you to kiss me, Kento.”

There. You’d said it.

And Nanami’s smile was almost blinding.

He’s closing in the hypnotic inches until his plump lips hovered simple milimeters away from your puckered ones. Much too far for you, in your opinion.

Fisting a single hand around Nanami’s sapphire collar, you’re dredging up your strength to finally pull him in for the kiss you’ve been waiting ages for at this point. Finally. Singing off a brief sigh at the heated proximity of his maw-

Only for Nanami to pull away.

“Wh-where are you going?” You’re mewling out, brows furrowing with the type of upset desperation that only Nanami was able to bring out in you. You needed him - and you needed him badly.

But the only answer you get is the balmy breeze of his snickers clouding down your body, so scorching that it made flames of want zip down between your legs. And Nanami does kiss you - between the heaving valley of your chest, right underneath your left tit, your tummy- down, down, down.

Rip—!

There go your limited-edition fishnets - torn right with only a few tugs of Nanami’s carnal canines. Right with his mouth that burrows between the pliable hole he’d made between your legs.

“Hm? What was that, darling?” He’s drawling away, shuffling until he was right between your legs. Until your big, bad boss was kneeling in front of you. “Oh! My sweet girl wants a little kiss, doesn’t she? How cuuute.”

Rutting up your hips, you just barely manage to get the edge of your slick-flooded thighs to stroke his dimpled cheek. Lips jutting out into a pout, “Yes- yes.”

“Too bad she didn’t earn it, hm? As if I’d kiss a mouth that flirted with another man in front of me- no matter how pretty. ” Nanami continues, like he didn’t even hear your pleas right now. Thank goodness you couldn’t see the way the cracking rawness to your voice made his pants so much tighter.

There’s the stubborn schwf! of your skirt being pushed up in a rough tug. And it’s only once he turns his heart-eyed stare down between your legs that you realize. “So, guess m’just gonna hafta kiss you.”

He wasn’t talking to you. He was talking to your dripping cunt.

No sooner does this realization hit, that Nanami’s eager kiss does too. A filthy, sodden French snog planted right through your soaked panties.

Nodding along as if he was translating every slurp weaving its way from between your bloated folds. “Oh? What’s that you say? More?”

He’s trawling the pointed edge of his nose up n’ down the your slippery slit, teeth nipping along the rubbery folds to make your entrance gush out slivery ropes of slick. You count exactly one smooch at your dripping base, two right where your pussymound was the pulpiest, and the final - longest and most lingering - on your throbbing clit.

“See?” He hums, fleshy thumb outlining the slobbering fringe of your pussylips. Just peeking his manicured fingertip past your useless underwear, and inching backwards with a saturated squelch whenever you squirmed for more. Tease. “Now tha’s a good girl, she’d never flirt with another. You’re mine, right- all mine? Or- well-”

Your breath hitches when you feel the wet splatter! of a slimy clump of saliva striking your teary cunt dead-on. And Nanami’s thumb rolls over the sheeny glaze with such utter love, “Now you’re all mine.”

Your fingers sneak their way to tangle into Nanami’s mussed-up locks, pulling his sappy mouth even closer. So close that his curved chin hits your pussy with a wet plap! And the crisp whoosh of him drinking in your scent deeply has you whining, “Ken- more. More.”

Nanami growls and it’s almost feral. He’s knocking out a deafening mewl from your lips with a sharp, sultry spank exactly on the target of your pulsing clit. “More? More, huh?” Purposefully rovering the chilling band of one signet ring - holding it firmly down where your hole was leaking. “After you got this wet for Hiromi? Nice try.”

“This isn’t for Higu-”

Thwack! The hollowing noise of flesh meeting flesh sings out in your ears, every swat after swat being left on your pussy enough to make your head throw back helplessly.

The sight of it only makes Nanami’s scouring fingers pry apart your gluey folds even wider, kissing every nook and cranny. Over and over. Taunting. “N’ now you’re talking about another hah- man when you’re w’me? I should fire you, darling.”

You already know he never would.

But you can’t stop yourself from spilling out a string of swears anyway, “Th-this is all for- ngh-” Flinching bodily when he wraps the waterlogged remnants of your panties around one fist, ‘round and ‘round until your pussy was allll on shamefully display, and your delicate pink panties dig into your fleshy mounds. “-for you, Kento.”

And when Nanami pulls at the silky fabric with one hand, you’re dragged down across the table right with it. Till you were exactly where he wanted you.

“Correct.”

Your panties were in tatters now - and he tucks it away into his pocket with a wink. For later. “Hate these slutty fucking panties. Wanted them off every fucking time.”

Swiping away the syrupy trickle of saliva overspilling from his mouth, Nanami’s instantly surging over to connect his lips with your puffy ones. Groaning out a throat mmmm– the moment that candied flavor sugarcoats his lips.

The most lecherous squelches! speak across all four corners of his decadent office when Nanami handlessly tilts his head to let his scratchy tastebuds maze through your weepy pussy.

He doesn’t even care that he’s getting the frames of his glasses all messy. Swirling out slow circles around the elastic ring of your entrance, before pumping inches in-

“Fuck-” You’re squealing, throat clogging with a leaden ball the moment he’s contracting his tongue to stretch your entrance out wiiidely agape. In and out until your rubbery hole was tenderizing to his ravenous shape and texture, “-fuck just like ngh- that.”

“Oh yeahh? You like this, huh?” Meeting Nanami’s gaze from between your cracked-open legs results in shockwaves all over your body. Because his molten gaze was gleaming - practically glowing. “Getting so turned on s’like you’re a ngh- damn waterpark. Think anyone else could get you this f-fuck- soaked?”

And you couldn’t even hide it just how aroused you were. Just how close.

Wiry ropes of your webbed slick clings onto Nanami’s mouth with each soppy plap of his mouth clashing onto your cunt. Harder. Fucking you with his tongue just the way his thick cock was aching to do right now-

SMACK!

“Mmm sweet girl, makin’ such a mess. Answer me.” He spits into your syrupy pussy, urging out a few fresh waves of slick that laminate his fat digits in pure gloss. A gloss that he sucks up happily.

“You-”

He doesn’t even let you finish. Because you were so adorable being eaten out until you were stupid, none of that usual flirty snark present when he was making out with your cunt like a man parched.

Swirling out tiny hearts on your clit with the mushy tips of his fingertips, he yearns to skim the perked edge of his tongue all over your gummy walls. Bumping into every delicate orifice, Nanami’s free fingers fly down to trace your tight ring of muscle. “Oh yeah?”

“O-only you–” Your blubbers are so adorable, mouth loosened into an oh! yet the only thing coming out of it are repeated shrills of Kento! How cute, Nanami can only hope that these walls aren’t thick enough that those outside won’t hear. He wants them to. “-only you can make me so- ngh-”

“Shy, darling?” He sounded so painfully pussydrunk right now. Rouge blush burning, gazing up at you heavily shuttered eyes, a maw that was drooling more and more with every lapping snog placed on your slobbering pussy. “What happened to my flirty girl?”

His flirty girl.

Shit- the words themselves affect him just as much as they do you. Nanami’s muscular thighs manspread even wider with just how fat his painfully hard cockhead was bloated. Close. It’s so sloppy how he quickens his pace to toy with the button of your clit.

His, all struggling to get out the words from your mouth - battling with your heavy tongue to get out a keening- “You. Yours. Hngh- Only y-you can make me feel like this. M-make me feel so hck! close, Kento.”

His perfect girl.

“Ohhh, say that again. Dunno if I quite believe that.” He groans, budging your thighs over to suffocate his head even deeper, god, he knows that he could pass out right here and still be the most content man on Earth. Holding your ankles behind his hand with a second hand, you can’t help but ogle the rippling bulge of his biceps. “Lock them.” Your tangling motions were limp - weak. But Nanami finds himself grinning anyway, holding you in place tightly, he’s doubly stuffing in two digits past your slicked entrance. “Say my name.”

“Ken- Kento?”

Piling upon wads and wads of stringy cum that sprinkle all over your thighs, just the striking sensation is enough for you to see stars. Enough to gasp when his probing digits pillage your gooey depths, “Again.”

“Kento.”

And of course, Nanami Kento wasn’t a merciless man. Mean. Filthy with just how much he’s clacking his jaw to grind into the supple rim of your, your knee bounces up even higher at the taut spring of something hot pooling in your tummy.

He could tell. Oh, he could tell.

You were always so adorably readable - especially with your wobbling lips, and those crinkling beads of tears spilling over from the corners of your eyes. Mumbling, “Kentooo-!”

And all he really had to do was pound a battery swipe along your sweltering walls, deeply. Skidding right across where he knew your magical g-spot would be. He’s giving your perky clit not one - hell, not even two - but three solid pinches on your sensitive hood. Hard.

The babbling words “C-cumming-” are barely starting syllables out of your mouth before it crashes into you headfirst.

You feel like you’re being run over with such waves of bliss, pupils sliding allll the way into the back of your scrunched lids.

The wooden desk trills out a ringing creak! when you arch your spine into the perfect semi-circle, dragging Nanami’s mouth all over each and every crevice of your quivering cunt. Riding out your high in long sloppy drags.

Using him. And how Nanami loved to be used by you.

“Yeah- yeah yeah—” Holding your gaze fatally, you can only watch as the pearly beads spraying from your cunt drip the long trailway down to hit the back of his throat. Your fingertips dig into his scalp, mushing his face even closer, “-cum. Cum all over m’face, my love. Make a fucking mess of me.”

You swear that Nanami’s voice was shattering into a whimper towards the very end. Prominent Adam’s apple bobbing with every greedy gulp, and he doesn’t stop. He can’t stop.

Not even when your sparking high fades out into nothingness, not even when that white-hot pleasure formulates into something sensitive. Almost painful. Gasping out a sharp ah! with every drag of Nanami’s tongue over your too-tender cunt.

“S-sensitive-” You’re mewling, desperately trying to push on his blond head. Stacks of sweat-dampened hair plastering across your palm, “Ken- Ken, m’too sensitive.”

“Tch.” He’s panting, eyes latching on instead to your glistening pussy - all pretty with trickling layers of sweet, sweet juices and his saliva. What a mess he’s made. He swears he can spot a darkening patch oozing out all over the desk.

Nanami rubs his fleshy thumb over the tantalizing curve of your pussymound just a few repeated times, “Let me ask her- hm, wanna let me ah- go? Ready to say goodbye, darling?”

And whatever slurring squelches that emanate from your soppy lips speak to him. Enough so that he finds himself nodding mindlessly, “Fine then.” Planting an exaggerated mwah! on your clit, “I’ll see you later, m’kay?”

He was so gentle kissing your pussy goodbye - but so, so mean manhandling you off of the desk. In a singular fluid motion, scooping you up with two beefy arms underneath your legs and falling back into the CEO’s cushy chair.

“O-oh.” You find your thighs straddling his sculpted hips, hands falling precariously on top of his bulging deltoids. What a feast Nanami Kento was.

He barely even had to try to make your hips grind in a jerky up and down on his too-tight bulge. Splotching out gluey patches of slick wherever your driveling lips were hitting. Nanami counts exactly six slippery streaks before he grabs your throat and pulls-

“Think ya earned it now.” He hisses through a simpering groan. You’re so pliable like this - so open to being dragged into a filthy, filthy kiss. “Mm- might just be my favorite ngh- lipgloss on ya.”

You’re smacking at the curvaceous valley between Nanami’s pecs - nothing more than kittenish pecks for him, “That- that’s so filthy, Ken.”

Skin dappling with a second skin of goosebumps with every inch exposed to the heady air, he’s unbuttoning your blouse slowly. Lazily. Pop! Pop! Pop! Taking his precious time to watch every minute huff and puff you cloud out.

“Oh, darling.” Bursting out a bout of laughter that hits you to your very core as soon as your top and bra hit the polished floor. Nanami tilts back in his seat sexily, angling you to take up even more space on the comfortable seat of his lap - his thick, outlined bulge. “We haven’t even gotten started.”

Fuck.

He pants, “Hated these slutty skirts- fuck- made me almost call HR because you looked so- beautiful.” With your skirt soon shed, you’re suddenly reeling with the realization that you’re the only one naked right now. “Better with them off.”

Never one to fall behind, you can’t help but tumble your greedy digits downwards. Mouth lathering with a sloshing wave of greed as soon as your fingertips skim the rock-hard tent struggling in Nanami’s pants.

“Fuck- greedy girl.” At this point, it’s as if the exact measurements of Nanami’s hand were branded into the mounded flesh of your ass. Because each spank has you crying, “Don’t you worry now, m’gonna fuck that ngh- feisty mouth shut soon, but for now…”

You’re left hanging, waiting on where Nanami’s drawling words would take you next.

But it just-so-happened that you didn’t have to wait. Didn’t have to register anything but the way that he’s tugging down his too-tight pants and boxers just enough-

“Oh my-” You gasp at the sight below you, blinking your weighty lids just a few times to make sure that you weren’t imagining things. Because, sure, on those lonely nights you’d imagined Nanami to be big - but this was just ridiculous. “-Ken, you’re so-”

Big package for sure.

“H-heh.” He preens, wrenching down the velvety fabric until it looped halfway down the padded meat of his thighs. “Don’t act so cockdrunk, my love- s’only gonna make me ngh bigger.”

Roaming five dexterous fingers to grasp his bulky base, the rest of Nanami’s nine- no, ten inches drip down needy gumdrops of pre onto your hand. He was long, girthy - blushed on his swollen mushroom tip a pretty cerise pink that matched your ruined panties.

“Wan’ you inside me.” You’re purring out, and Nanami’s heart races as he catches a few glimpses of that complete and utter tease you usually are. You swipe your thumb over the syrupy top coating of precum on his tip, plugging it into Nanami’s mouth.

Well, he might be the boss - but not in here.

After all, who was he to go against anything his pretty girl said?

“Mmm- s’that so?” He’s suckling right on your doughy pads, fringes of his neat teeth nipping your flesh. Looking you right in the eyes while leaving a few streaky smears across your drooling slit, up and down. Golden blond lashes so long they flutter against the flushed apples of his cheeks, “Gimme a kiss first, my girl.”

So sweet.

Or so you thought.

Because you’d just inched your allured body closer to give him what he wanted. Digging your rounded knees into the sides of his body to just let your pursed lips brush in an innocent, innocent skim across his kiss-bitten ones-

Before Nanami wraps his hand around your throat and tilts your head back to let himself spit. Just seconds before nudging apart your sticky folds and pushing in-

“Ah!” Your eyes sprint between snapping open in sheer shock, and screwing tightly shut at the pure stretch. The tightness. You could almost hear the elastic creak of your weepy entrance being pulled to its very limits around Nanami’s globed tip. “O-oh my god-”

“Shhhh you can take it, good girl- my good girl.” He’s thumbing away the purposeful spatteres that decorate the sagging edges of your lips. Rounded centers of his fingertips sinking in tight around your throat, “Mmm- s’this a big enough package for ya?”

It’s an uphill battle to force your lids to shutter open, only to peer into Nanami’s glassy eyes to see that yeah, there was still a glint of raw jealousy in them. Still.

Your hand dips its way down to swipe open your dewy pussylips, rubbing over the most tender spots on your drooling cunt when your hips stutter down inch by fucking inch.

Splitting your tight orifice in half with his vast cylindrical cock, every wild rut that pumps Nanami even deeper makes you dizzy. Your ajar maw spilling with drool while he fucks himself furiously harder and harder and-

Head lolling over into the clammy crook of his shoulder, your tongue licks up a long stripe along his neck. “Ngh- s-so fucking big– Don’t know if I c-can take it.”

“Now now.” With a rude spank! your fingers are swatted away meanly, Nanami’s own taking over in its place. Not to do the job - just to toy with the buzzing nub of your clit while he pumped you snugly full of his never-ending shaft. “Move that hand, lemme see my girl’s hah- pussy take my big fuckin’ cock.”

Salty tears spring to your eyes and end up dripping onto Nanami’s awaiting tongue, voice laced with something primal. “Poor baby, getting nervous. Don’tcha remember what you told Hiromi?” You did. “The bigger the better?” You remember. “So buckle up n’ take it like a good girl now, my love.”

Your answer is nothing but a half-lucid nod, “Y-yes, Ken-”

“Hm?” He pinches your clit. A warning.

“Sir.”

“Atta girl.”

And then Nanami’s bottomed-up, his hefted base sagging against your sopping wet lips, globular swell of his breeder balls nestling up behind your cunt in a congratulatory smooch. And he was kissing your other lips just the same.

Leaving wet swabs that decorate your pulpy cervix in translucent streams, you’re squealing after each n’ every fat thud! of Nanami’s rotund cockhead mushing into your gooey depths. Probing veins massaging you incessantly.

He couldn’t get enough.

“Atta girl-” He’s snickering into your mouth, pounding and pounding even more despite the clingy push of your pussy. Despite the way that he can’t even go any deeper - his cock was still aching for more. To strike the bullseye of your womb. “O-ohhh atta giiirl. Open wiiiide f’me.”

Like a mantra. You weren’t any more coherent, with your words garbling out over every leathery creak! of the pristine office chair. “Loud- g-gonna be loud, Kento.”

“I don’t care.” Nanami spits out immediately, leaving a heavy-duty swat on your bulging pussy folds as if to ask why should you care, too? He had such a way of speaking to you with his body, rendering you speechless after only a few seconds in the presence of his vicious tempo. “Let them hear, they couldn’t fuck you like this. Let them know hck! wh-who makes this slutty cunt feel so good.”

And it wasn’t a question, but you’re answering anyway. Looping your boneless arms around the expanse of Nanami’s broad shoulders, your limbs stick to the sweat-drenched fabric of his button-up and you huff.

“You- need you to-” You’re murmuring away, numb tips of your fingers fumbling with his pearly buttons. Two seconds away from ripping this damn shirt off of him, “-need to see you.”

“Oh yeah?” He’s letting his top fly open to reveal what looks like yard upon yards of smooth, sculptured skin. Shiny with a glimmery sheen of humid perspiration and slick - puddling from your weepy cunt at the way that Nanami was so sexy. All jiggling pecs and abs for days, you find your pussy gulping his length up n’ down even faster. Nipping along bites that redden his flesh prettily, “Woah- Really are a slut, my love. N’ I fucking love it.”

Nanami was always such a possessive man, one hand latched onto the side of your waist and helping you stumble along with every pap! The other wandering down to pat that proud curve where your cozy hole was being overstuffed with his fat cock, before traipsing up to your clit-

“Mmm– gonna have everyone know.” He’s biting down on his bottom lip, looking up at you through teary lashes. Tapping your clit, “Say my name, my love.”

“Ken-”

“Louder.”

“Ken!”

The chair bustles with every jerk, and the unsteady motions only have Nanami driving even deeper. “Mmm- now say his name-” He’s settling your mouth open with another clump of saliva, kissing away the smearing excess. “-say his name. Say Higuruma-”

But it was no use. The only thing your mouth seemed to be able to form into was a loud Ken. Just as he’d wanted. Just as what makes him chuckle, “Gonna fuck you s-so good that fucking Hiromi s’gonna know from a mile away.”

Ohhh, how he loved that cute lil’ thought.

He was certainly jackhammering you like it, motioning your hips into eager gyrations even faster than your fatigued legs could handle. Practically carrying you through every claggy slap of skin-on-skin, Nanami’s tensed core burns with the friction.

But he doesn’t care. Doesn’t even burn the sting of anything other than the way his sensitively enlarged balls were papping against your skin. Painting sweet, sweet bruises for days.

“Would ya like that?” He’s mindlessly babbling away, and even through his hooded eyes you could tell that Nanami was completely pussydrunk. He wasn’t even circling your clit now - he was writing out on top a rapid K-E-N-T-O. Gone. Ruined. Rolling his hips in sloppy bucks, “Wan’ me ta fuck you until everyone knows?”

You’re nodding. Nodding and nodding away, and Nanami thinks this can’t get any better. You’re so gorgeous when you’re fucked dumb like this, who knew his office tease would be so…pliant?

He’s already in heaven with each saturated slip n’ slide massaging your weeping orifices. Angling his hips ever-so-slightly to the side to feel more of you-

That’s when he hits it.

That spot.

And oh, Nanami thinks he could cum right then and there with the way your slicked walls kiss his length in a lingering smooch. Just as lovers do.

“There-” you’re mumbling out, your lips leaving tiny pecks across the grinning corners of his lips. But you didn’t even have to start for him to already be bouncing you with the target of exact, precise strikes to your g-spot. Spotting steamy splotches of parched precum over that bulging spot, “R-right there, Ken- don’t miss don’t miss.”

“Would never fuckin’ imagine.” He has the audacity to roll his eyes.

You believed him - just as much as you believed in the flurries of stars bursting countlessly behind your eyes. Hushing out, “M’close, Kento- gonna cum- fuck m’gonna cum.”

How could you not be close when he’s back to his favorite hobby that makes you squirm - pinching your throbbing clit right in time with the long, long lines his battering tip glides across your sweet spot. Ending allll the way back at your cervix. “Mhm, gonna make you cum on m’fucking cock. Hafta l-let those fucking ngh- losers know whose pretty pussy this is.”

And once the ever-stoic Nanami starts babbling, it’s like he can’t stop.

“Mine-” Sucking on your bruised lower lip like his favorite candy. “Mine.” Twice. “Mine.” Thrice. He’s fucking you like he’d die if he slowed down right now, massaging your rubbery entrance deliriously raw. Teeth grit the closer and closer he inched himself, “Gonna let Hiromi know. Gonna let Ijichi know- Shoko- fucking Ino who w-was making eyes at my girl. My wife.”

You’re gasping, “W-wife?” And it seemed like such a highly tense moment to finally accept you as his work wife. That is, before-

“Mhm—” And there’s no regret, none of that usual shyness in Nanami’s eyes as he fucks you with deep eye contact. Thumb finishing off drawing a final KENTO on your clit, “Better know that m’gonna buy you th-the biggest fucking diamond you’ve ever seen, my love.”

Maybe it’s the way that he’s so serious. Maybe it’s the drilling pace of his thumping cock. Or maybe it’s just Nanami himself; boring up at you through droopy eyes and foggy glasses, a delirious smile plastered all over his face while he rammed you to your orgasm.

Fat tears collecting on your waterline, your vision blurs with just how intense of an orgasm he’s wrenching out of you. You swear it’s the best you’ve had in years - maybe even in your entire life.

“F-fuuuuck–” Your fingers drag unorganized lines all over his smooth shoulders, making it out as if he’d just been attacked by wild cats - but it’s just you. You and your sappy folds milking Nanami’s very soul, hot puffs of condensed breath hitting his craned neck when you lean in. “A-all for you, Kento.”

And the exact moment Nanami feels your lips descend upon his skin to suck - the exact moment he realizes that you’re marking him - his breath strangles in a gasp.

“Darling- darling.” He’s panting out, shivering fingers setting the soft spots of your cunt free to get a good grope of your ass. To muster all his fucked-out strength to whack your pussy against his sharp hipbones with a resounding pap! “Oh, darling m’cumming- fuck- better take every drop now.”

But it was impossible to.

Because Nanami was cumming so much - even more than he had in the bathroom just hours earlier. Torrenting out sticky webs of seed that glue your walls feebly together and scratch such a primal urge inside you to have him fill you up.

He’s fighting to keep his head from throwing back, blinking away the sparks that bolt behind his eyes to drink in the sight down below.

In awe at just how much of it was overspilling in ivory ribbons from the stretched-out ends of your sodden slit. Stretching thickly over his bulked base in a buttery ring, it’s so messy that he’s barely thinking before smearing over the wadded mess.

“Ken- mmpf-” Your mouth falters as soon as he stuffs in the glazed-over tips of his fingers, swirling around a slow circle inside your unhinged maw. He already knows this is going to be good. “Want more.”

More.

Here you were - stuffed until your poor pussy couldn’t even handle just how much cum Nanami was still fucking into you. Spraying out a fountain of creamy globs with every pressurized thrust planted on your pussy - and you still wanted more?

Something flashes behind Nanami’s eyes.

And before you know it, you’re whimpering at the loss of his girthy inches weighing down in your cunt. There’s a saccharine fwop! followed by the slosh of trickling cum when Nanami pulls out, “C-come back.”

With a ringed finger plugging up your geysering hole from losing any precious ounces, Nanami carries you over to that familiar office desk in a single stride. Splaying you out - manhandling you - with ease until you were bent over the cool surface.

Your cheek being pushed into the currently saliva-soaked wood, wrangling hands instantly tied behind your back with something silky - fuck, Nanami’s tie. Your cunt once more stuffed to the very brim with all of his throbbing cock.

He’s leveraging the little restraint to jostle your hips ever-deeper. You’re squealing at that stretch - one you’re sure you’d never get used to. “K-Kento, sir–”

“Shhh, my love.” You hear in throaty groans from above you, and Nanami’s muscular weight pinning down your body makes you even wetter. As if he was just melting his abs into your curved back, smearing back n’ forth in tiny smudges after he starts pushing- “Say another word n’ m’gonna get ya pregnant- then they’ll really know you’re mine.”

It’s not like Nanami Kento to ever be late to a meeting.

Given, there was that one time a year ago when he’d almost been late before an important contract discussion with Kyoto Enterprises. But thirty five whole minutes late to a meeting?

Well, that was unheard of. Impossible, really.

And Shoko finds herself sighing, tapping her nails impatiently on the glass table. Honestly, there were so many better things she could be doing with her time than waiting for her mystery of a boss. And - just her luck - you weren’t here today to distract from the boredom of corporate life, either.

The universe is against her, really.

“Oi, Ijichi–” She calls out to the fidgeting man seated across from her - and she doesn’t know whether he jumps because everyone on the team is on edge, or simply because this is Ijichi. “Five more minutes, then we file a missing persons report.”

“I-I am sure Mr. Nanami is ah- fine-” He pushed up his dangerously low glasses, muttering underneath his breath. “...hopefully.”

“I think we should go with the missing persons report.” Higuruma pipes up from one end of the room, the man had become a much-loved addition to this department since the contract. “Because I hate to say it, but the man has no life. There’s no reason for him to just-”

SLAM!

“My apologies, I’m late.” Nanami pants out into a silence that could only be caused by the object of your conversation suddenly intruding. A blur of impeccable suits and blond hair.

Well, Shoko couldn’t see his face properly from the way he was hunched over to catch his breath like that - but she was glad he seemed unharmed.

Or, at least, that’s what she thought.

Because then Nanami stands up properly.

And honestly, she doesn’t know what makes her heart stop more. The fact that Nanami Kento arrived late to a meeting - or that he arrived late to a meeting with lipstick stains all over his lips, his jawline, his neck. And- and were those hickeys bruising his neck?

The coffee cup in her hand falls, and it’s not the only one. Surely, this had to be a prank- wait, does her boss even know what that is?

Still thinking it’s some strange practical joke, she’s squinting to get a closer look at the strangely familiar color of that lipstick. That- shit, wasn’t that your favorite shade?

Nanami snaps his head to Shoko the very moment she says your name - almost as if a form of experimentation. Before looking down at himself and finally - finally - seeing the state he was in. He sighs, fond. “Ah, my apologies again. My beautiful wife held me up, and I forgot to check if she left marks.”

Wife.

Higurua drawls out the question striking through everyone’s mind right now. “What. The. Fuck.”

And Ijichi squeaks out the second most striking question, “W-wife? D-do you mean your w-work wife, Mr. Nanami?”

“No.” He’s tilting his head in confusion, as if there was any possibility of anything else otherwise. Pulling out a glinting golden band hung around a simple chain from underneath his suit. A wedding ring. With your name engraved. “My wife wife.”

A/N. Hope you have a lovely week <3

Plagiarism not authorized.

#nanami x reader #nanami smut #nanami x you #jjk x reader #jjk smut #jjk x you #nanami kento x reader #nanami kento smut #nanami kento x you #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen smut #jujutsu kaisen x you #jjk #jjk fic #jujutsu kaisen #nanami kento #tonywrites #nanami

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cherry4nemo · 1 year ago

Text

DAMNN 🙏

shut up

childe x m!reader

request: none

a/n -> im sick and tired of winter WHERE IS SUMMER. help i wrote some of this in public so i had to stop myself from acting out some of the motions just to figure out how to write it lmao. guys i kinda made him a little mean i just got a little carried away oopsies. anyways one more non req and ill work on reqs i hope

wc -> 3.8k

cw -> very dubcon, hate sex, a lil bit of blood, anal sex, spit as lube, not a lot of prep, degradation, manhandling, throat fucking, asphyxiation, reader is a masochist, mean dom childe, spitting (in ur mouth like once), chokehold, prone bone position for like 2 seconds lmao, brief descriptions of fighting, reader offs someone cuz he felt like it kinda, it starts sorta abrupt tbh lol, not beta read

Childe fucking hated you. This was old news—absolutely anyone who had the barest idea who he was knew that. Everyone within a twenty meter radius could hear him arguing about something, and it never seemed to be about the same thing more than once. There always seemed to be something the two of you nitpicked about each other, throwing it out into the open which, more often than not, led to a fight with no clear winner.

There wasn’t anything anyone could do about it since the two of you were Harbingers. You were ranked tenth after Signora’s death and The Balladeer’s desertion, just behind Childe who was in ninth. But that didn’t stop you from riling him up relentlessly, even finding some type of enjoyment from his anger because you knew it wasn’t particularly common to see. Really, there wasn’t much of a power difference between the two of you other than the fact that you were less experienced.

As such, you were often assigned to missions together—if assigned meant that you simply joined him when you didn’t have anything important to do, much to his obvious displeasure.

This time, you followed him towards a hideout hidden between large rocks. It was simple, and you preferred that it wasn’t so easily accessible, but you supposed that hiding it in plain sight was acceptable for now.

“I don’t like how easy it is to find this place,” you commented, taking in your surroundings as if you were impressed by how large the area was compared to the small cave entrance. “It’s so obvious.”

Childe only offered you a grunt in acknowledgement, making his way past a few scattered materials on the floor. This wasn’t a facility that the Fatui used as much as before, but some machines were still operational and functioning.

“Ignoring people when they’re talking to you is rude, Tartaglia,” you chided, but you couldn’t care less that he wasn’t responding. “Besides, it’s not like you disagree with me. You wouldn’t want a poor, helpless child accidentally stumbling across this place while they’re playing a game.”

He glanced at you from the corner of his eye, and you could see him grit his teeth when he noticed the smug expression on your face. “Nobody’s gonna find the entrance. It’s been around for years and there hasn’t been a trespasser.”

“Really?” You hummed, nodding slowly to yourself. “If you say so.”

He eyed you warily, instantly skeptical of how quick you were to accept his statement. But that wasn’t important right now—he needed to retrieve some documents and collect money from a few debtors.

“Just… Just stay here. Don’t touch anything,” he instructed, unnerved by how you obediently sat on a rickety chair and watched him expectantly.

“Yessir,” you replied with a playful tone in your voice, crossing your arms over your chest comfortably.

He silently stared at you for a few moments. “What are you planning?” He blurted out, annoyed with the eyebrow you raised in question. “You don’t like listening to me.”

You rolled your eyes at his accusation. “I don’t really favor getting chewed out by whoever needs those papers, so hurry up and get what you need. I’d rather talk to the debtors, anyways.”

He didn’t move from his spot for a few more moments before hesitantly making his way toward an isolated room, seemingly accepting your response. You chuckled through your nose at his reluctance as you swirled your finger around, creating a small rabbit made out of Cryo. It was quiet and unassuming as it silently hopped around before you sent it out of the room, searching for any valuable items worth keeping as you waited.

You leaned back in boredom, shutting your eyes to focus on keeping the rabbit's form. You could feel a faint hint of interest radiating through you from your creation, cringing slightly at the smell of metal before you relaxed again. The rabbit was mid-search when an arrow whizzed past it, nicking its back. Quickly, it fled, leaving a trail of Cryo. The hunter cursed loudly and chased after it, but it wasn't long before it made it to its destination.

Curious, you released your focus on the rabbit as you stood up to pick up whatever it found. You looked up when the hunter suddenly walked through the cave entrance, slightly surprised to know that they hadn't stopped trying to go after your rabbit. The two of you stared at each other before you spoke up in mild disinterest.

"Can I help you?" You questioned, inspecting your find once again. It was shiny and had intricate designs on it, but ultimately worthless.

"Uh... Uh, yes! Yes, you can," they said after a moment, scoping the area in search of their nonexistent rabbit. "Have you seen a white rabbit run through here? Small, quick, and leaving some sort of trail behind it," they described eagerly, taking a few steps forward.

"I'm afraid you can't come in here," you said, raising a hand to stop them in their tracks. You analyzed them for a moment, taking in their appearance. They couldn't have been older than fifteen, with shaggy brown hair and tanned skin.

"Then why are you in here?" They countered stubbornly, crossing their arms. It seemed they forgot all about their hunt in favor of digging into your business.

"That's none of your concern," you replied, ignoring their questioning gaze above your shoulder. "If you don't leave now, I'll have to resort to force."

You bristled a little when you saw them roll their eyes. Too stubborn for their own good, apparently. "Yeah? Well, I'm the chief's kid. What's a weird-looking guy like you gonna do to me?"

You frowned, visibly offended. You stared at them for a moment before raising your dominant hand again, this time letting an icicle form on the tip of your middle finger before flicking it directly at them. In the blink of an eye, they went down with a loud thud. "Kill you," you replied to the body.

You walked up to them and lifted their head by their hair, examining the wound on their forehead with a hum. Blood leaked in copious amounts down their face, and you couldn't stop the grimace when some landed on your foot.

"Oh, shit," you hissed under your breath when you caught a better look at them. You wondered why they seemed so vaguely familiar to you when the realization suddenly hit you-the chief was one of the debtors. You pursed your lips before standing up with a shrug, placing a hand on your chin to ponder different ways to dispose of the body without tarnishing the Fatui's name even further. "I suppose I could just toss them in a lake? Or lure in a wild animal to eat them? Burning's too obvious..."

"What the fuck did you just do?" You heard Childe curse from behind you. You turned around to face him, eyebrow twitching in interest when you noticed his normally void eyes alight with fury. Honestly, though, you didn't quite understand why he seemed so upset. Maybe it was because of how transactions with the debtor may not go as smoothly as he wanted, or the fact that the person you killed was still technically a child.

"Someone found the entrance," you shrugged, unbothered by his reaction. "We don't want anyone finding important information about the Fatui, right? So I killed them. I told you it was easy to spot." You rolled your eyes like it was the most obvious thing ever, which only served to anger him. You tried to make your way past him deeper into the facility in search of something interesting to take when a sudden blur slammed your body into a wall. You let out a pained grunt, instinctively wrapping your fingers around the wrist where he pinned you down by your throat.

You knew he was ruthless when he needed to be, but you weren't given a chance to see it with your own eyes up until now. He was far from gentle, holding your delicate neck with such ferocity it made your skin tingle. It was exhilarating.

"Like hell they just conveniently found the entrance," he spat, his voice low as he glared deep into your watering eyes. "You deliberately lured them in here, didn't you? And for what? Because you were bored?" He refused to slacken the hold around your throat, internally finding that he preferred how you looked when you couldn't breathe.

"You—cough—You're much the s-same, Tartaglia," you strained out, trying to furiously blink away your tears. "Don't pretend you don't crave vi-violence, too."

You could see him grit his teeth just before he tossed you to the floor, watching you cough and regain your breath with disdain in his eyes. "No. Don't compare me to a fucking psychopath like you. I don't kill kids just because I feel like it!"

"To-may-to, to-mah-to," you groaned, rubbing your sore skin. You could still feel his hand around your throat, his grip burned into your flesh in a way that sent a familiar heat through your groin. He took a second to examine your body before zeroing in on the growing bulge between your legs, disbelief written on his expression.

"There's no damn way," he muttered to himself as if trying to convince himself you weren't aroused by him strangling you. With a growl, he stepped forward and harshly pressed a foot on your crotch, merciless with the amount of pressure he used. He watched in disgust as your hips jerked in response, frowning deeply at the pained moan you let out. "You're seriously turned on?"

"If it wasn't obvious—" You were unceremoniously cut off by a swift kick to your jaw, accidentally biting down on your tongue. You tasted the metallic tang of your own blood that originated from your mouth and your nose, wiping it away quickly. Your cock only throbbed with an increased fervor in your pants that strained for release against the fabric.

"Shut the fuck up," he snarled, staring down at you for a few moments, deciding what to do with you now that he had this newfound information in his hands.

"What's gotten you so upset?" You teased him, obviously not taking your situation seriously. You felt a pleasurable chill run down your spine at the fierce look he gave you, sitting up a bit in anticipation when you saw his hand stray down toward his pants, roughly undoing them.

"You just can't shut your mouth, can you?" He hissed, leaning forward a bit to grab a handful of your hair. He yanked you closer, forcing you onto your knees as he pressed the tip of his flaccid cock against your waiting tongue. "Fine, then. I'll shut it for you."

You hummed at the salty taste of his skin, raising your hands up to hold onto the swell of his muscular thighs. He groaned quietly when you dragged your tongue along a prominent vein on the underside of the shaft, looking up at him through your lashes. You let out a garbled moan when he forced you all the way down to the base, seemingly satisfied with the way you gagged a little.

Your nose was buried within his pubic hair as your throat tightened and spasmed, feeling yourself beginning to drool as the thick strands of saliva seeped out of the corners of your lips. You could hardly breathe, but you loved it. You loved the way he tugged on your scalp, starting to move his hips back and forth. You tried to contribute as much as you could, but the way you could feel his cock hardening sent a pleasant ache through your jaw.

"Fucking hell... You're not fit to be a Harbinger," he spat, holding you still as he reached down to swipe a bit of the blood from your nose to messily wipe it on your cheek. You couldn't see what he was doing, but the patterned swipes made it clear what he was writing.

S, L, U, T.

The word sent a jolt of electricity down your spine. You could feel your cock twitch in your pants, leaking a profuse amount of precum that served to stain the fabric. You let out a moan and slipped a hand underneath your clothes, jerking yourself off shamelessly.

He let out a breathy scoff at the sight, but he couldn't help the way his dick throbbed when your throat squeezed around him. "You're too good at this," he groaned, gradually moving his hips faster until he was fucking your face. "You don't belong in the Fatui. You're better off at a goddamn whorehouse."

He relished in the sound of your chokes and gags, finding that he preferred this much more than your voice. He let out a heavy sigh and shut his eyes, tilting his head back in ecstasy as he lost himself in the sensations. He was unaware of how you shifted your hand lower, using your precum as a subpar replacement for lube to push two of your fingers in your hole. You weren't in any particular rush as you leisurely pumped them in and out of you, adding in the wet sounds to your strained moans and ragged breaths. You were brought back to your senses when you heard him bark out a mocking laugh, squinting up at him through the tears that accumulated along your lashes.

"You're fucking pathetic," he muttered lowly, almost to himself, but you knew it was directed at you. "Is this—shit—all it took? You just needed a dick shoved down your throat, huh? Should've known you were such a whore," he demeaned, and you could only whine in response. Suddenly, he leaned a bit forward to press the sole of his shoe onto your aching cock, watching intently at the way you choked in surprise. "Maybe the rest of us should get a turn with you? Turn you into our little fucktoy? Our good-for-nothing cumdump?"

A grin made its way onto his pale face, turned on with the amount of control he had over you. His left hand slid lower, maintaining a firm grip on the junction between the back of your head and neck as his other one moved up to pinch your nostrils shut. He thrust harder, faster, shuffling closer when you tried to tilt your head away. He ignored your muffled protests and focused solely on getting himself off, letting out satisfied groans that you weren't fully there to appreciate.

It wasn't until you could hear a high-pitched ringing did he finally cum, shooting his load down your throat without a care for whether or not you could properly swallow it. He held himself there for a moment longer before he pulled himself away with a harsh shove to your body. You coughed and panted hard, taking a moment to regain your composure before looking back up at him, eager for more.

"Still not satisfied?" He questioned rhetorically. You both knew you weren't done yet, not when you found out how he could get when you pushed his buttons just the right way. "Stupid question, huh?" He huffed a laugh through his nose before roughly kicking you onto your stomach, dropping to his knees not a moment later. He haphazardly tugged your pants and underwear down in one go, ignoring the pained hiss you made when you felt yourself sandwiching your drooling cock between your abdomen and the floor. He spread your ass apart to spit on your asshole, shoving a finger inside you for good measure before jerking himself off using some of his saliva.

"Tartaglia, please—hurry," you whined, looking over your shoulder to meet his gaze. It was satisfying to see you in such a pitiful state, but the sound of your voice, although hoarse and raw, annoyed him.

"Be quiet or I'll leave you here like this," he snapped, giving your asscheek a quick slap before positioning himself over your hole. He rubbed the tip of it against your skin for a moment before pushing himself inside, groaning loudly at the feeling of you clamping down on him so perfectly.

It fucking hurt; after all, you only used two meager fingers to prepare yourself, and even then, you hadn't done much. It burned like he was tearing you apart but in the best damn way. The pain of being stretched out so mercilessly only mixed in with the insatiable fire in your groin, shooting jolts of electricity up your spine so intense you nearly came on the spot.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck! Tartaglia, please, you're so—!" You cut yourself off with a moan when he suddenly slammed himself down all the way, ramming the head of his cock against your sensitive prostate.

"I said shut up!" He demanded, pressing his hips down to grind against you. He wasn't as deep as he could go in this position, but he still managed to fill you up just right. You groaned when he leaned down, pinning you to the ground with his body weight as an arm snaked around the front of your throat, pressing it against you firm enough to restrict some of your airflow.

Instinctively, you raised a hand to grab at his forearm, digging your nails into the scarred skin in a futile attempt to get him to ease up. You could hear every sound that left his lips, every labored breath that brushed the shell of your ear. It didn't take him long to start moving, pulling out until only the tip remained before slamming back into you mercilessly. You could feel every inch and vein with each drag of his cock, your body jolting alongside his harsh thrusts, grinding your dick up and down on the ground.

"God... you're so damn tight," he muttered, picking up the pace. A low moan escaped his throat when he pressed against your prostate just right, ignoring your fleeting struggle.

It was hard to breathe. You could feel him everywhere around you all at once, and it didn't help that he fucked you hard enough to knock the breath out of your lungs. Your moans and whines were strained and hoarse, clawing at his arm, but you knew you didn't really want him off. Your body ached at his rough handling as wet slaps echoed through the abandoned facility, briefly wondering if anyone outside could hear, but you could hardly maintain your train of thought long enough for it to become a concern. He fucked you fast and rough, hips slamming against your ass hard enough to sting, but he didn't find it in himself to care.

"Tar-Tartaglia! Slow...—!" You tried to plead, beginning to find everything overwhelming when you cut yourself off with a squeal. He quickly shifted himself, leaning back to hold your throat with his hands as he pulled, forcing your back to arch uncomfortably.

"No," he replied, tilting his upper half over you just enough to spit in your gaping mouth. He felt you tighten in response as he relaxed his hold the slightest bit, feeling you swallow his saliva eagerly. "You wanted this. So you're gonna fucking take it."

The heat in your belly intensified to an unbearable degree, and with the way he practically filled up every crevice of your hole, you weren't sure you were going to last much longer. With one hand on your throat, he moved his other one down to spread one of your asscheeks to intently watch his cock move in and out of you. He could feel every twitch and shudder you made, and it satisfied him to know just how easy you were to break down despite your initial resistance.

"Fuck... I can feel you," he groaned, yanking your head back a bit to get you to look at him. "You're about to cum, huh?"

It was hard to find the right words to reply when he fucked every thought out of your head, but the panic in your eyes made it clear that you didn't want him to stop so suddenly. And although he wanted to see you beg like the whore you were, he needed to finish this quickly. He still had a job to do, after all.

"You're lucky I still need to collect some money," he growled, glaring at you with familiar disdain. "Otherwise I would've left you like this for hours."

With renewed vigor, he removed his hand from your throat to roughly push your face down by the back of your head, tugging your hips up to bury himself deeper inside your ass. You cried out in ecstasy as your eyes rolled back, making an attempt to withhold your orgasm when he wrapped his fingers around your throbbing cock, jerking you off in time with his punishing thrusts, but to no avail. Barely a moment later, you came with a loud moan, cumming so hard it left you lightheaded and dizzy.

He chased after his own release, giving you a few more rough thrusts before he stilled, burying himself as deep as he could go inside you. You could feel his thick cock throbbing as he filled you up with his cum, shuddering at the warmth before you slumped back down to the ground. He remained still for a moment longer, catching his breath while he watched you tremble. With a sigh, he pulled out, grimacing a little at the sight of his dick slick with fluids, but he tucked it back in his pants regardless.

"Get up. We have to hide the body and get to the chief before anyone finds out you killed his kid," he said impatiently, walking towards the hunter to inspect it.

"Just... Just bury them, or something," you suggested, taking a moment to calm down before pulling your pants up. Finding a reflective surface, you summoned a bit of your Cryo and melted it with your body heat to wipe away the crusted blood on your face.

"Eugh... I can feel your cum," you found the energy to complain, turning to face Childe with annoyance written on your face. The audacity.

"Shut up and let's go. We're already behind schedule after your bullshit." He scowled, picking up the body, already having decided what to do with it. At least it wasn't your problem anymore.

"Yeah, yeah, whatever you say," you said, quickly fixing your appearance. If it weren't for the slight limp in your gait, nobody would be able to tell he just fucked you within an inch of your life. Perks of being a Harbinger, you suppose.

cross-posted on ao3

#genshin smut #cherry reblogs 🍒💫🌙#childe x reader #male reader

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gangplanksorenji · 2 months ago

Text

An Ethical Consideration.

Pairing: IVE’s Yujin x Male Reader

Word Count: 9,124

A/N: The last fic of 2024. Been wanting to write some office-related stuff right now and glad I had the time to do so. Hope y'all like this quick piece of mine and cheers onto the next year ahead! <33

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The weight on her shoulders is the sum of her choices, and it bears the burden of being intact and to be precise eloquently. She’s often mistaken as a model due to her undeniably stunning pulchritude from head to toe as well as her clever mind that's just the cherry on top, and you can’t deny that, but the thing is, she’s a power lesser than you since you’re the more omnipotent one.

Your ego refuses to let her crumble down your defenses whenever you fall for her natural charms and whatnot, yet again, you can’t deny that. Mainly, it doesn’t help with the nature you have with her, always used to assert dominance.

Despite all of these egotistic approaches and hypocritical advances, you still treat her as a human because you’re not that cruel of a person, and even so, letting her be the first one to know what you have in plan for today.

“Schedules, again, Yujin.”

“All over? Today? To—”

“Yes.” You look at her, fixing your necktie with a stern stare that possibly intimidates her. “And yes.”

Standing a little awkwardly beside you, Yujin mutters each of your endeavors, an occupation that seems to strangle the concept of time.

“At 1 P.M., you’ll have a meeting with Mr. Kim and his colleagues, and that will take an hour and a half, presumably. Then, at 3 P.M., you’ll be in a—”

“Wait, wait, Yujin.” She gulps nervously with your words, possibly a little nuanced from what’s her usual demeanor until you chuckled a laugh.

“You are really something else, Yujin.”

She composes herself with her eye contact with yours, and you replied with a mutual action as your reassuring tone possibly relieves her. “W-What do you mean, sir?”

“Come on, I’m just playing with you—you don’t need to repeat it all but you’re just…” You look at her, from her doe eyes to her black heels, and then paint that smile you know that she always loves to see. “A different breed, I guess.”

Yujin smiles, knowing this is all a test and completely reassured. She continues assessing the paperwork lying on the desk and you watch her amusedly, clearly admiring her determination and this little interaction etches a note down your brain.

These are one of her struggles being your secretary, and it’s often making her question her every move nowadays since your mood is often played inside a Russian roulette. Yet on your side, it’s clear that you like to see the subtle anxiety in her eyes and your little, silly fantasies that possibly annoys her.

“Also, one thing, Yujin.” She looks at you, eyes full of anticipation.

“Yes, sir?”

“You can drop the paperworks.” You gesture it with your hands, a smile vibrant towards her even though it’s evidently simple, and she can’t help but feel relieved with your words. “Treat yourself a little, alright?”

A simple token of gratitude is what made her smile that gleefully. At long last, she won’t be worrying most times, beating herself into that stress that’s always inevitable whenever she’s in your vicinity but it doesn't eliminate the fact that she’s still incredibly doubtful.

“I don’t understand, sir.”

“I mean it, Yujin.” You draw yourself closer but not too much, then stare at those brown orbs of hers to make her feel the sincerity of your words. “Don’t worry for me, for now. Make yourself comfortable, okay?”

She nods and is clearly being reassured with your words. She thanks you for the little token of gratitude, bows at you and walks swiftly immediately, not before stopping on her tracks with her name coming out of your lips, her eyes intrigued. “By the way, come to my office later at 5 P.M., I’ll show you something and don’t worry, you won’t be in any trouble.”

Well, that doesn’t help her at all but your reassuring tone was the indicator, to say the least.

---

You’re just hoping she gets to use her time in the best ways possible, for every second should be worth her time, and you’re just waiting patiently for her and what’s bound to possibly happen.

Frequently checking your watch, you patiently wait for her as the rook takes your queen, near with your king and that’s another checkmate. You’re killing time playing chess online, and knowing you’ll still have some time to spare allows you to decide on this.

“Wow, he’s good.” You murmured as your focus is entirely invested onto what could be your next move as a knock on the door could be audibly heard.

“Come on in.” It’s enough to hear it, and there the figure goes into the room. There’s a high chance that Yujin’s the one that’s going to knock on the door at this given time, three minutes after the clock strikes five and damn right it is.

“Oh sir, I’m incredibly sorry—”

You snap and she shuts herself, eyes wide and a gulp evident. “Don’t apologize, Yujin—take a seat instead.”

Once she hurried to take a seat, you fixed your collar, and composed yourself to possibly intimidate her. Here it starts, and your choice of words reflects the outcomes that may happen.

“You really do surprise me sometimes, Yujin.” Your voice is so close to being unreadable that even Yujin takes a hard time to decipher it. She’s matching your disposition, and clearly anticipating more. “You’re still into those things that we used to do?”

Fuck. Something clicked in her, and she instantly knew the sole reason for her appearance here.

She still denies it, knowing there’s no evidence of the assumption but you know she’s back to her clandestine roots. “S-sir, I can assure you that I’m over whatever you’re possibly thinking.”

“Oh please, Yujin, stop with the lies—”

Knowing how retaliation with words and the defensive approach could absolutely result in anything going against her way, she would opt for an option that could possibly bear the best of outcomes. “Then what is it, sir? What’s this assumption all about?”

She’s slowly raising her tone, failing to cover up her permeating defensiveness as you gestured to calm her down, and let yourself be heard as she’s in clear of any trouble.

“Yujin, me personally—I’m just saying that I was genuinely baffled that you’re still into that.” Your words work like a charm, getting more loosened up as the soothing atmosphere really eliminates the fact that about denial and lies. “If it’s the others, you could’ve landed onto something hard on the surface but not for me.”

Her gaze fixated towards you with your last words, a smirl curling up your lips as you can see the comfort within her. Yet, there’s still a question lingering in her mind that she can’t contain any longer.

She gave up knowing it’s not worth it to put a nail on a coffin, yet rather, open it up. “How’d you know, sir?”

She's still anxious and it’s completely normal even with the possibly platonic relationship you’ve built with her because at the end of the day, you’re the one in control, a higher hierarchy. “Well, it’s quite simple, actually?”

There’s probably glint in her eyes, running up the possible reasons of a secret unshackled as her career is probably flashing before her eyes, knowing how your sugar coating is absolutely deceiving at most times. “How s-simple, sir?”

She’s stuttering but that didn’t stop you, and it’s cruel to know how bittersweet these events can get but you need to address it, and add a possible way to bring something back to life.

You push the seat away from you as you stand up, now going towards her and breaking that suspense that’s lingering right from the start when she steps foot onto your office. “Wonyoung reported me about your naughty desires when all eyes aren’t watching you, clearly moaning my name and still fantasizing about me, hm?”

Oh, the sabotage. You know how it can possibly hurt her to hear those words come out of your mouth, but that’s the truth and right when Yujin is coming to defend her actions, you pull up a trick on your sleeve that could easily dismantle her attempts to dismiss the truth.

The recording plays, loud and clear, her voice calling you lustfully and god, it’s breaking her, piece by piece.

“Wha—”

“It’s hard, Yujin—I know, but at least keep it within yourself probably, you know?” Now, you’re just hitting her critically, opposing the reassurance you enlightened her with earlier. She’s looking down, defeated and apologetic and you’re sympathetic with her vulnerable state. “Oh please, look at me, Yujin.”

You inch closer towards her, tilt her chin up, looking at you endearingly with a plea loud in each second she stares at you, as you continue. “Enjoy your break, Yujin. We’ll talk later for more. I’m clearly disappointed.”

You give her way towards the door as she stands up quickly, on the verge of tears, sniffling with a loud thud of steps. As she’s about to reach for the door handle, your voice interrupts her, feeling like a deja vu from earlier. “Clearly disappointed to know I wasn’t there to aid you.”

Those words struck hee like lightning, piercing through her like a sword as it hit too well, letting her feel rivaled and frozen. You walk towards her, a smile curling up your lips as she turns around with a quizzical expression. “What do you mean, sir?”

“You know what that means, Yujin.” Your hands are quick to pull her dangerously close toward you, making her yelp with your actions and she’s clearly processing what’s currently happening yet jovial knowing this could end up something elevated that what she was expecting.

You’re now facing her, nose a mere inch away as you whisper. “Now let me show you what you really need.”

God, it’s a sight to behold. You immediately pull her and latch your lips with hers, exchanging torrid pecks that define the hunger and deprivation between the both of you.

You’ve been in your cage for so long and for the longest time possible, you missed these moments with Yujin and you can’t let that opportunity slide. You tug onto the hem of her blazer as you admire her outfit, and teased with how it’s clearly against the dress code. “Feeling really stylish, as always.”

“Hope you liked it, sir.”

“I really do, Yujin.” Then, you continued with the sloppy exchanges, clearly savoring each second you latch onto hers as her plum lipstick accentuates her given scrumptious taste, letting you yearn for more and she reciprocates so swiftly.

It was a quick descent and possibly all according to plan, but you can’t deny the fact that a possible friendship can be ruined between such close friends, but for now, all these things are set aside as your focus is entirely averted towards Yujin.

One, two—fuck, she’s a great kisser.

And so are you, possibly.

---

These events really took a wild turn, and not even two minutes of such a lustful exchange, comes the comfortability of both parties, even descending down to the madness of lust, and the first victim that falls onto that is Yujin, clearly vocal about how she missed getting that taste of your succulent shaft.

“You really want to suck my cock, huh?” She can’t help herself with the thoughts in her, absolutely telling her to give in to her carnal desires and she does so.

Yujin just falls onto her knees, a loud thud audible as she can’t help herself but just be drunk with the thought of slobbering all over your length. “Please, sir—I need your cock—to taste it.”

“Wrong name, Yujin.” You tug her ponytail, earning a yelp from her as bites her lips, subtly liking the way you’re rough on her.

“Sorry, daddy—I just can’t help it…” And so, you gave her mercy, even with just the precious seconds left to spare.

You smirk, looking down and eventually seeing the lust behind those adorable, doe-like eyes that resembles how she’s undeniably ruinable whenever she pulls up this look.

“Oh, Yujin…” You lift her head up with a finger on her chin, chuckling as your sinister plans are starting to choreograph the possible actions you can do to ruin your secretary on your professional grounds as this can be considered somewhat ethical at your own words. “I’m going to make you choke all over my dick so bad that the only thing you’ll remember on the whole day we’re here is the taste of it, and mark my fucking words.”

Fuck. Yujin mutters and gulps, because your tone permeates sincerity and there’s no way on god’s green earth you’ll never fulfill those promises, not when Yujin is kneeling down so submissive and entirely begging to be sullied.

“That’s what I want to hear, daddy.”

The falling consonants escaping her lips ignites something within you, and you’re throbbing just hearing her voice being sultry, aching to be freed. You are unable to take it anymore, and Yujin knows how much you need to be relieved even if it gets so risky. “Do the honors, my Yujin, now.”

You’re really demanding, and she fulfills it within a heartbeat.

Yujin unbuckles and frees every bit of clothing that deprives her with the view of insatiability, hungry and yearning to get herself a hold of her desired prize. She’s swift and deft with it, hands skating through the confines like it’s nothing and that’s what you like about her—the lingering confidence that no one else can match, and she’s bold and audacious with a care towards you only. As selfish as that sounds, why would it matter when it’s Ahn Yujin that’s in front of you and possibly, worshiping you.

The last bit of defense, your boxers, and it’s going to be deemed useless as her hands tug on it and give you that submissive look. “Promise me that you’ll be rough for me, daddy.”

There are two reasons why is this extremely rhetorical: first, with a girl oozing with hotness and a body built to be ruined, how can you not think of something so ludicrous and utterly aiming to ruin her living life out of her; and second, preferably last, she always wants to be pounded and controlled to oblivion, putting in her place, just like the usual pursuits that sparks the risk.

“Always, Yujin—now get that lips on my cock now—want to feel it.” Again, it’s commanding and she likes it a lot.

The encapsulation of her lips around your purplish crown meets the inevitability of moans coming from your lips, her hot, wet flesh being too euphoric to handle. You can bear with the gratification, of course, but the way that she’s applying the pressure whenever her cheeks hollow and the plumpness her lips provide would like to have a word. It feels like your cock is made for her to suck, and she proves it with every second she spends her precious time with, a slobbering mess all over your length. She was quick to be messy, spit already seeping out of her mouth as she held your thighs for a support with her rapidly increasing pace.

“Jesus, Yujin—this hungry for my dick? Really this bad—fuck!” The question was quick for her to be registered yet she chooses to ignore it, occupied with the devotion of giving the utmost pleasure and fulfilling her needs of tasting you.

“I asked you a question, didn’t I?” You tugged her hair, a statement to consider as she pulls away from your saliva-sheathed shaft and catches her breath.

“Yes, daddy—I want y—mmh!” All you need to hear is a single yes to conclude the satisfaction within you and the want in her. She’s quickly muted with your sudden impalement, making her hands grab onto your thighs as she eagerly bobbed her head to prove that she can match your roughness. You grit your teeth, looking down at the sight of a lifetime, groaning with Yujin’s actions as her eyes gaze at yours through the reflection of her glasses, scanning your expressions to tell if you’re loving this or not.

Why would that be a question within her when you’re already moaning with her suction wringing the best bits of pleasure possible? Guess people have their own ways of assurance and Yujin’s ways are something you’d always commend—she always loves to ensure things even if it’s already confirmed to be certain.

When your tip hits the back of her throat, nose flushed onto your lower abdomen and her glasses slightly pressed, that’s when you uttered the hottest moans imaginable, feeling her oral assaults are a battery to invigorated the lust within you.

“God—fuck—how are you always feeling so good, Yujin?” You hands caress her ponytail as she ensues her pace, rightfully sullied then pulling out to state the rhetorical within you.

“Maybe because I’m a sucker for daddy’s cock, that’s why.” The choices of words were simple, yet hot and it’s the way that she delivers it too. Yujin flashed a smile before indulging onto your length again, stroking your base as her hunger speaks loud and clear, actions rapid and pleasurable.

The scene alone inside your office is something like in the pornogrpahic videos that tells the tale of fiction and what’s on the camera yet this is real, as the insatiability between the both of you drew towards this madness. Knowing that you keep your promises and wanting to make things elevated, you flashed a sinister smile before tapping Yujin’s cheeks poking with your length, and then she pulled out yet again, whimpering with the sudden depravity.

“What now, daddy?”

“I’m going to make a mess outta you, starting with this tight throat.” Your words are laced with lust and the venom that stings her to bite onto your commands, and eagerly anticipates what you’ll do next. You take a hold of your wet length and direct it inside her tightness yet again, groaning with how warm and pleasurable it is before grabbing her head with both hands and thrusting with an already moderate pace.

She wants it rough, right? Then you’ll give it to her, even if it takes to break you as long as you get to ruin her innocence and that existing class within her.

She gags when it hits too deep, yet she doesn't stop you, taming her reflex as you invite you with more, digging her hands onto your hips and urging to take what her limits can. She’s fighting you, closing her shut and tight as she takes you was the notion that she’s already reaching her limitations, yet this is not what you trained her for and she knows it.

Without further to do, you let yourself be the one to expand her horizons of the inevitable domination all over her, and this time, you’ll be berserk.

“Open your fucking mouth, Yujin.” You let her jaw be slacked, up for the taking as you relentlessly pound her tight throat, fulfilling your needs and deeply disheveling and leaving her sullied once she leaves the office doors. You pinch her nose, playing with the risky game between asphyxiation and god, she’s struggling and constantly gagging onto your rapid length.

“You always love my cock balls deep into your slutty throat, don’t you?” The mocking gets into her, nodding frantically as your words spill the truth, nothing even close on being a lie.

Yujin’s cheeks flushed red, struggling for oxygen as you let go, letting her breathe through her nose and with a pocket of relief, she took your whole cock with an invigorated stance, standing her ground and not letting herself break. You tug onto her ponytail, surprisingly still bonded even with your relentless pace and ruthless actions and it’s just a great element for leverage, elevating the ruined look she emanates all for your eyes to see, and the glasses she’s constantly wearing is just the cherry on top. She digs her fingers onto your thighs, spit seeping out of the crevices of her mouth and your cock, coating the vicinity of skin around your length.

She wanted this anyway, and you’re just warming everything up.

Her ruined countenance is a sight to be etched within your deepest lobes in your brain, for it’s something stupendous and incredibly monumental. She ruins her own clothing and gags repeatedly, yet it doesn’t matter because as long as you’re molding her throat with the shape of your cock, then you’d say you’re in a triumphant run of domination over Yujin. “Take it all for me, Yujin—god, t-this fucking throat is way too good.”

You can vouch and it’s incredibly factual. You’d want to just warm up your shaft for the magnitudinal display of pleasure that’ll happen later (and it’s going up her tight cunt) yet her throat and her lips would like to speak up, or maybe even adding up to the mess you’re making right now.

Pick a side, and you can’t, but you have to decide yet the pleasure coursing down within you is putting you in a position of indecisiveness.

You continue the ruthless assault against her mouth, chanting her name while you do what you’re best at and your sincere praises towards her is just the cherry on top. Usually, she would be writhing her arms with subsequent gags resonating all over the room but it's surprisingly and genuinely impressive how she takes you better now, yet not the perfected craft you sought her to be and you wouldn’t complain.

There’s also an additional element of lust that elevates the oral experience, and you cared to address that because of how hot it actually makes her, even more than what you expected.

“Not going to take those off, huh, Yujin?” You cool down your thrusts and let Yujin have the capability to control her pursuits, impaling her with more of what you can offer she pulls out to answer you, catching her breath and painting such a vibrant smile that contradicts the sexual tension lingering in the air.

Her mouth is utterly messy, saliva drips down to her chin as her insatiability towards you didn’t even bother the tiniest bit of modesty to even clean up. “I’d like to see how much you’ll cum knowing this does turn you on more.”

She knows. She fucking knows you. The way she said it so confidently with the smirk painted on her face says a lot, knowing that she’s just inflicting on the wounds of lust within you. She cracks the code open with your subtle kinks that’s profoundly known by her and immediately, she would live up to those fantasies of yours—it’s actually baffling how she knew your little fetishes that no one else can, and she’s absolutely clever reading you like a book.

“You know that I’ll probably destroy these glasses, Yujin.” The warning is audible, falling onto her ears as she continuously teases your tip with her tongue, before setting your insatiability aside and muttering up a reply.

“You probably can consider that you’ll fuck my mouth like it’s my cunt.” She’s not wrong, though, and certainly, that’s bound to happen. “And just so I know, you’re going to give me another set once these are broken because I’m something special, am I?”

It’s a blessing and a curse whenever she gets too cocky—her permeating confidence knowing her words exhibits the truth and it won’t help for your supposed reasonings, yet sometimes, her limits wouldn’t help her much, not when you still have the authority to be in control with a flick of a switch.

“Damn right it is, Yujin… You gave up and relinquished the truth, but you can’t wait up any longer for what’s the reason behind this sinful mess. “Now shut up and let me fuck your mouth.”

“Oh pl–mmh!” It was a mistake once she parted her lips enough to impale her with your cock, yet it’s all bound to happen and embraces every thrust your hips muster.

The opportunity is taken, instantly ravaging her mouth like it’s your last, tugging on her ponytail that’s holding on thanks with your vice grip onto it. She’s tearing up as you ensued and put her in her place, managing eye contact towards you with a silent plea laced behind those glinting orbs of her for more. She’s gripping your thighs, a leverage that’s still not enough for her to handle your roughness and god, her hands digging you for more tells exactly how she doesn’t want the pace to dissipate.

She’s crazy for this, and you’ll match that freak of hers.

It hits balls deep every time, her glasses almost slipping out and being crushed with your own weight of force being distributed to this sinful endeavor. She grasps your thighs like she’s bound to break, and you’re going to achieve that yet she’s robust and able to take you for she is capable of your pace even with the evident gags and subsequent grips that could probably bruise your skin.

Your pace never fails to bring her to the weakest, tears flowing down her cheeks as she indulges under your control and you’ll never falter, not when you had enough. The way her throat tightens up once you push your length deeper always sends yourself closer to the promising heights of euphoria and god, she’s just taking everything your hips oscillates. She’s just getting messier with every second that counts, yet she perseveres to prove her worth despite the apparent struggles.

And she delivers, every inch, every thrust, and every goddamn gag—

You pull out and she’s gasping for oxygen, her reddened face tells the story of your roughness and she just flashed a grin, her satisfaction fulfilled choking on a cock like yours.

“God, you’re so fucking messy, Yujin.” Your swears ignites something in her and it’s such a gem to hear profanities coming out of your mouth, because she knows she’s making you crazy and this was just the start of an exhilarating show. You wipe the saliva that escapes out of her mouth and seductively play with those lips of hers, and she knows what’s the reply of such display of lust.

She didn’t waste her breath to mutter a word, but rather, invest in constant hums as she sucks onto your fingers like a lollipop, enveloping that soft flesh and tasting like the sun won’t come up tomorrow. The voracious assault onto your fingers concludes her insatiability towards you, and she’s trying her best to live up to her desires and selfish pleasures.

As she’s incredibly readable, you could only imagine how soaked her cunt is with all of the lingering intimacy.

“God, please—more, daddy—please let me—”

“No.” You caress her cheeks and look at those eyes full of that lustful glint, preparing for what you could possibly do with her. Help her stand up and pin your arms so her back is pressed against the wall, your stare continues to pique her as it lures her in like a trap. “Here’s what’s going to happen, Yujin. Since you took me so well, I might have to consider something to aid your wrongdoings.”

A cunning smile paints you, as her eyebrows furrow in anticipation as her lust puppets her to desperation. “A-And what is that, daddy? Please, I’ll do everything even if it means more than what you can expect of me.”

“Expect? Hah.” A chuckle escapes your lips, and that puzzles Yujin. She’s laughable at that moment given how she’s mostly the epitome of fulfillment, the clear meeting of expectations. “Gladly enough, everything that I could think of links every missing piece so perfectly.”

That’s the beauty of An Yujin—clearly innocent yet determined for every obstacle that gets in her way, even if it means something unethical. But here’s the thing, you orchestrate what’s the order in this room and have the authority to bend what’s considered to be rightfully taken.

In this case, it’s something way too obvious.

“The question is: where do you want it, Yujin?”

Once those words were said, her eyes immediately averted to your throbbing cock, rock-hard just for her as her hand seizes the opportunity yet you stop her. “Answer me, Yujin.”

“Inside me—just as long as I can feel it, feel you, daddy.” Now, you’ve just broken her and it’s all with a single kryptonite that she always loves to play with and it never fails her to be driven towards insanity.

“Oh, you really want it, huh?” The nod is evident and desperate, and you’re just igniting the fire to tease her further. “Bend over for me, on the desk.”

“But the documents—” Maybe the addressing of concerns should take place in a completely separate hour or day as you don't care if they’ll get all tangled in a huge mess because getting Yujin railed from behind will be your utmost priority.

“I don’t give a shit, Yujin—we can rearrange them some time.”

“But daddy, it’ll be a—ow!” You’re fed up with her considerate actions because of your selfishness too, a grab on her wrists and a spank is enough to enlighten a statement within her.

Your eyes penetrate daggers through her, and it’s turning her on even more. “I really hate repeating myself, Yujin.”

You really do, and with the grip immediately loosening, she obliges and gets rid of such paperwork and bends over your main desk without any care but you.

“Better. Fucking better.”

You glance over the helpless, submissive stance Yujin is on, and you’re just running on the possible permutation you can possibly do with her. She holds onto each side of the desk while looking over her shoulder, eagerly anticipating what you have in store with you and you definitely have an abundance of tricks up your sleeves.

“Don’t look back and put your hands behind you, Yujin.” She’s quick and obedient, gladly compliant because this would definitely turn around worse for her if she wasn’t being one. You are quick to grab your belt and she knows what’s possibly going to happen, erratic breaths and chuckles coming out of her mouth are the signs of her building satisfaction.

“God, I always wanted to experience this while you ravage me senseless, daddy.”

“Great thing this is your lucky day.” You wrap your leather belt around her wrists and hold them in place, making sure that Yujin is as helpless as possible before the sinful act commences.

“Too tight?”

“Not really, it’s just right.” She yelps and cries because of a harsh spank as its hypnotic ripple earns that groan from her, deriving pleasure out of your enervating ruthless approach towards her ass. You raise the hem of her skirt up to her waist, and so are those grey-colored shorts just a little to get a delectable view of a backside that could be worth millions, and luckily enough, you’ll be the only to see the wonder of such treasure.

Your hands roam around her arched butt and those heaven-sent thighs, feeling the smooth, porcelain skin in every inch that just feeds to the hunger you’re having towards her but you have your own composure, a word of modesty and patience that Yujin isn’t bothering to have at these desperate moments. “You know this dress code isn’t really allowed, hm?”

“How so? No one has ever called me out wearing short skirts like these—oh god, right there…” She’s delving nearer onto her breaking point, moaning with your repeated assault towards her supposedly drenched lips through the frustrating fabric, teasing and building up her lust while she fights to be as eloquent as possible. “You n-never said a warning, daddy, let alone implement a rule or a ch—ow! Ohh, fuck!”

“All I’m saying is that you’re being such a slut for wearing one, just to summarize it for you, Yujin.” Your words sting as much as the heavy hits of your palm, marking a familiar rosy hue onto her ass that earns that triumphant smirk on your face.

“But I know you like it, by a lot.”

“Never said I didn’t.” You’re growing impatient because of the possible things that’s running around your mind, and it’s all about how you can totally sully her.

Your eyes darts onto her perfect skin, before tugging onto her shorts which is surprisingly easy to undress, coming off and onto her ankles just with a few seconds (Yujin standing up quickly also helps) and then the last bit of defense against the inevitability—those ruined, black silk thong that’s drenched with juices. Also, those come off and down on her ankles and all of those kicked to god knows where as she can’t help but moan with the sensitivity she’s currently feeling, and she likes being defenseless and being totally handled by you.

She never looked great being incredibly submissive and she’s perfectly built to be like this.

Amongst all of the foreseeable futures that could happen, one by one they are eliminated, until only three had made it to the final cut as these are the things that can go so right for the both of you: you could curse her satisfaction with your fingers teasing her tight cunt, on the edge of breaking apart and make her cum effortlessly; could invest onto some returned favor, your lips eating those succulent holes of hers as she writhes with the wetness you bring; and lastly (being the most cruel and pleasurable act you can possibly do), a finger, knuckle deep into her asshole and teasing her tightness with your own length.

Yet, with all of the articulative thinking, you can’t help but let your patience run thin and do what you promised earlier on—to let her see stars, ruin her entirely.

You nudge your cock onto her waiting heat, and immediately, you halt the agonizing reprieve as it is sheathed inside without a warning, knowing she can take it all despite her helpless state. At this rate, Yujin would be gripping both ends of the desk yet with the belt around her wrists and your hand holding her in place, she could just writhe and moan your name out uncontrollably as she gives everything in, and you control her.

Thanks to her slick juices, it wasn’t hard to accommodate yourself onto a moderate thrust that she grew accustomed to once you keep assuring and complimenting her, even if it comes out as a profanity.

“Not bad for a slut like you, Yujin—god, do you like this, hm?” You’re refraining to voice out how great she fucking feels around your cock, and let your mind savor the sight of her powerless figure dependent for your handling.

“Yes, y-yes—oh fuck, yes, daddy—it’s so good, so good!” Her strained voice, stuttering and alluring is what invites you for a harsher pace. The both of you are mutually gratified with each other’s actions, and you can’t help but groan her name too in every thrust you do, now filling her up.to the hilt and withdrawing with just your tip inside. It is hard yet moderately paced, just how you like it for now, and knowing how this possibly defeats what Yujin likes, you don’t want her to wail and break apart within your own eyes.

Wait, she is calling you and pleading with you—that’s the sign, she wants more.

“Harder, daddy—please.” Of course you’ll fulfill that as soon as possible. You pull the belt towards you, letting her hands meet your abdomen and pound her tight cunt with a power greater than before. Every clash of your hips to her butt resonates this sound that’s the epitome of candy in your ears, and it’s just going to get better, knowing that with the profound kisses you do on her nape makes her clench even harder and wringing out the best of all pleasures.

She cries and you hum onto her skin, continuously worshipping her as her moans with your repeated actions set the fire in you, as well as her constant compliments that you know would be inevitable.

“You lips—g-god, you kiss me so good, daddy—oh shit…”

Your lips are dangerously close to her ears now, as you whisper, “And you take me so well—this tight cunt is really for my cock.”

Well, it probably is, considering how every thrust molds to the shape of your shaft lives up to your words. She’s incredibly tight and slick, even with the constant ravaging and it’s just getting way better knowing that she’s not showing any signs for you to slow down nor stop, letting you go berserk on living up to both your likings. It’s possibly painful to know that your eyes can’t get that hypnotic sight of her thighs rippling and as much as you like kissing her backside, you can’t afford to lose an opportunity with an angelic view.

“Grab the desk, Yujin. I’m gonna fuck you harder now.” Now loosening the grip of the belt around her wrists, she immediately leveraged with a painful grip onto each end of the desk as you didn’t slow down and continued your igniting fervor. She’s trembling once she grabbed onto both ends, thighs shaking due to your actions as her mouth spills honey-filled moans with the pleasure spiking up on her spine, and through her veins.

Now, you have the everlasting sight to behold—the recoil of her skin with your thrusts is a vision to be etched within the deepest parts of your brain, and you’d live every moment seeing her like this. You painfully grip her hips, pounding her harshly to the point that the desk is even responding to your ruthlessness, but you don't care, not when she’s still coherent, able to walk and most of all, not cumming all over you.

These are just the multiple goals you'd eventually achieve, and it’s getting pretty near considering how her lips pulsate and drenches with copious amounts. She’s now creating a miniscule puddle onto the floor and the small rivulets on her thighs full of her nectar, and you’d eventually double that given how hard you’re fucking her and god, she’s crying and far from the An Yujin everybody knows.

“God, fuck—da-ddy, p-please—let me cum—let me cum, I’m s-so fucking close—oh god, oh god, p-please!” It continues like this, a jumble of words due to the skyrocketed pleasure she’s experienced and you know she’s dangerously close, and you’re just there to pull the trigger sooner.

She lets out a primal cry, and you seal her fate.

“Cum for me, Yujin.” Simple words yet enough to break a woman like her.

She’s practically gushing onto your fingers as you rub them out to reach her climax and she does so, spilling the borderline screams of pleasure that is caused by you, and she’s basically elevated way past her euphoric trance.

Her knees tremble due to her orgasm, and whisper onto her ear while still pounding her through it since she wanted this in the first place. “You know, Yujin—I would have just fucked your tight ass if we have some lube, want to see your cunt gushing out while I ravage your tight hole.”

You’re not yet finished and your words immediately made her clenched so tightly that it made you groan in the middle of your sentences, but that doesn’t stop you from enlightening her with your fantasies. “God—both of your holes are fucking tight—guess I’d just make this pussy cum all over again while you could only imagine how my cock would slide so good inside you, hm?”

Your words do make her squirm uncontrollably, a key to the door of madness as you didn’t waste time increasing the pace and getting back to the roots of how this goes. Knowing how much you want her to reach another inevitable high, you opted for a leverage on her end, offering your fingers for her to such as she eagerly does so, tasting you and humming in need as every second passes by. You make her choke with your own digits, and she slurps each time she does so, yearning to impress you and to voice out how much she loves these miniscule actions to fight against the pleasure.

“P-Please, daddy…” She cries for you, letting her catch her breath as your thrusts are constant, deep, and unforgiving.

“Say i-it, Yujin—please for what?” You need that answer escaping those sinful lips of hers, you need it desperately, even if her voice is broken for all of the vocals she bestowed.

“Fuck—f-fuck me, daddy, please!”

It’s the constant chant of the same sets of phrases and words and you can’t blame her, not when you’re absolutely fucking her like you do mean it. She can’t think straight, possibly seeing stars at this moment as her nectar spills into rivulets yet again, the mess currently spoiling the marble floor that didn’t concern you.

“My office is gonna smell like sex thanks to you, Yujin.” You let out that primal call, a satisfied one as her clenches aids more with the pleasure you’re currently experiencing. “And I’m—I’m fucking close, Yujin.”

The stream of constant moans ends up on a halt, as Yujin still has the coherence to think and break the loop of words, pleading as she tightens her grip on the desk. “On my face, please, daddy—you can’t cum inside me yet, not here!”

Oh, she now has this courage to utter words against your possible wants, and honestly, that’s commendable yet you didn’t like it and not when you’re in the peak of the hierarchy, in the absolute authority of things.

“And why not? Also, girls like you deserve a load inside their tight cunts, no matter what the circumstance.” No one could probably argue against you, not when her walls clench for you to fill her up, even though it’s against her wants yet again, you are the dominant one, the power to control and bend towards your will.

You didn’t utter a word and ramped up the pace again, and this time, you’ll do everything to feel every ounce of pleasure as much as possible. Yujin’s face contorts into that familiar countenance of being cock-drunken, yet you break that trance with a hand on her chin, making her face towards you and then again, you meet those luscious lips of hers that’s entirely insatiable.

You pull her close and continue to pound her tightness, humming on your reciprocation and her lips quivering in pleasure, chasing that high of yours that’s bound to spill into the depth of her tight walls. She tastes so great you can’t pull away just yet, closing your eyes and feeling how soft her lips are and when you do, you bring the final onslaught of thrust that’s possibly going to break her in half, moaning on how good you’re making her feel.

“Fuck—f-fuck, daddy—I’m gonna cum too—so close!” At long last, she’s a hair’s width onto her own high and being in the same boat as yours, and this couldn’t be any better.

“Fucking cumming again? Hah, then we’ll cum together then—gonna fill this pussy up so good, Yujin.” It’s surprising how coherent you are even though you’re as stimulated as Yujin but it doesn’t matter, not when your primal instincts are the ones that powers you to achieve that euphoria.

You dug your hand onto her hips, spreading her legs more to go deeper and god, you can’t possibly survive another set of thrusts on the count of five.

That familiar tingle firing you up was the call, and you impaled yourself deep into her snug walls, filling her with every spurt your slit can possibly deposit. She’s wailing, calling you and yearning for more as her brain can’t possibly fathom the utmost pleasure she’s experiencing and you’re just giving it all, giving what she desires right from the start.

She’s thanking you, a cry that could break you but in a different, unorthodox way that relies on the scope of lust. “Jesus—fuck, why are you always so goddamn tight, Yujin?”

It’s rhetorical and she knows it—she’s aware of what she can do to you, and even in a submissive frame, she can absolutely break you apart. You kept your length buried in her for a longer while, possibly extending the pleasure that’s beating your brain in a mush, and eventually, the inevitable could not be stopped. You pull out and let out exasperated breaths, admiring with the wonder of your roughness evident with your red handprints, and as the cherry on top, her cunt dripping with your anticipated load.

There’s still that gas left in the tank, a fuel burning and igniting for more and you can’t let it become idle.

“Thank—o-oh fuck—thank you for this, daddy…” Yujin’s chants are a constant ringing in your ear, her moans subsiding as she recovers from her own high, assessing how great you feel with your load deep inside her.

Your hubris never fails to fuel you up too, and you’re far from over.

“You remember me saying I’m going to fuck you rough, Yujin?” You’re demanding, incredibly primal and wanting more of what she can offer. She can sense it as she looks onto her shoulder only for you to guide her and flip her around, now facing you with your eyes evidently distracted with her leaking cunt. “And really mean it, because you're going to take more.”

Her eyes darted towards you, glowing, endeared, and laced with lust. She wanted this for weeks and now, she’ll get to feel your wrath once more, and this time, it would be way better than before since you’ll see how beautiful her face contorts whenever she succumbs to the pleasure, on even her moans to the very least.

It’s one of the robust parts of the pillars that builds up your concupiscence, and it’s the strongest amongst them all—her sultry tone says it all, and it’s just making you descend down to your own madness.

“Gonna breed me like the desperate girl I am, daddy?”

“Correction,” Your hands deftly find her waist, drawing her frame closer to you as she yelps with your sudden control, then smiles knowing she’s going to be put in her place. “A desperate slut.”

Yujin is still leaking, thighs stained in the right places with indistinguishable liquids caused by you and you’ll stand proud for the product you just made. Still with the skirt pulled up on her waist, you lifted her legs a little as she relaxes herself onto your desk—it’s pretty surprising how sturdy this is and probably, you’ll invest onto some greater furniture in the latter weeks, if ever—and teased your rock-hard shaft against those sullied, white-stained slit of hers, which earned another set of needy moans that’s clearly aphrodisiac in nature.

You’d never shut up how great she sounds, and you’re growing impatient by the second you tease her heat.

“Please, daddy—please put it in again…” Both of her arms extend down your shoulders, hands resting on your neck and caressing it, urging you to comply with her needs and she doesn’t need to plead more because you’re definitely in a losing battle of discipline.

Why would you even bother thinking of such a concept in this filthy endeavor? Yes, you won’t, and you’ll dismiss it.

It’s another sudden action, you buried deep, withdrew and slammed back in, repeating the harshness you bestowed upon her earlier but this time, you’re feeling everything and even better, see how pretty she looks when she’s blessed with the constant overwhelming pleasure. You grabbed her hips and impaled her deeper, your cum leaking repeatedly out of her tightness as it stained everywhere in its vicinity—you’d probably have this dilemma of cleaning your workspace once you’re done with her, but you wouldn’t care until she’s fucked senseless, her mind thinking of you and you only.

You’d intend on doing that, and with your stored-up strength, you’re able to lift her with your arms and pinned her onto the nearest wall where you’re in full pace on revving up your thrusts with abandon, letting out the most sinful moans of satisfaction Yujin can produce. You’re in the same boat as hers, utterly succumbing into the abyss of gratification and constantly grunting with how great she still feels, tight in the right places, possibly molding her walls onto the shape of yours.

It’s genuinely hard to comprehend her unparalleled tightness despite the pounding she took earlier and that’s just elevating the pleasure you experience as always, dismissing that sensitivity that once took over your length. You hold her frame with your hands on her waist, her legs wrapping around yours as you achieved greater depths that resonated magnitudes of different cries of pleasure. You catch her lips again, holding her chin upright as the both of you exchange torrid kisses, hungry for each other and utterly leveraging the unstoppable pleasure each of you brings to the table.

It’s the sound that she makes while making up with you, and you’ll never get tired of it, not when she’s dancing her tongue against yours, and attempting to mutter words that fail to be audible with how much you’re investing on dancing with her. Her legs instinctively pull you closer, and can’t help but groan against her lips on how much she clenches between every thrust your hips muster.

“Are you getting close again, Yujin?” Your breaths come right after, clearly anticipating on achieving her ultimate prize once again, letter her see stars let alone galaxies with how much exertion you bring onto pounding her. Her legs are falling limp, tired with the monstrosity you’re doing but neither of you will have any regrets, and the closest thing to have a thought like that is if someone sees you and there’s no world anyone would have an eye of a trusted, hierarchical man of the company ruining her secretary.

Oh, curse these ethical bullshit and your reputation, because you’ll fulfill your utter desires before you can call this a day.

“I can’t h-hold–oh fuck—so good! Can’t hold it anymore, daddy…” She’s just desperate for another release, and you’re inching closer towards your promised land. She’s bound to feel something so euphoric, and it’s all mutual, even up to the point where you fill her up to the brim. You’re gaining every ounce of strength to wrap herself around you and a bright idea sparked within you despite all of the thoughts within you spiraled up, all tangled and in haywire.

Before the unexpected detour, she could just moan onto your neck, resting her head against your shoulder and chasing her high, messing up the floor and your thighs with her succulent nectar. Your workplace being stenched with the smell of sex will be the least of your concerns in this current affair, but rather the fact that you can’t see a pulchritude broken into something sullied, and your mind currently emptied, just with the thought of making herself her own canvas.

“What—what are you d-doing?” Yujin is limp once she stands on her feet, messed up thanks to you as her puzzled face is evidently confused with what you’re having it in your mind. Still recovering and gaining that semblance of urgency, she anticipates what you’ll utter and it wouldn’t be long.

“Remember what you said earlier about your favorite pair of yours?” Even with the stupor clearly shown, she’s still articulative and bright, grasping with what you’re trying to make her remember and just flashing that innocent grin with the thought of it.

“Oh god, yes.” She’s quick with it, instantly dropping down onto your knees, legs quivering as she looks up at you, her eyes glistening with what you’re going to shower her with. “Would like to see my favorite pair covered with your cum, daddy.”

God, she knows, she fucking knows.

You didn’t hold back, and she’s sticking her tongue out and closing her eyes, letting her imagination roll upon what could be the most erotic sight that could happen between the both of you. It’s turning you on even more, clearly focused on chasing your high with the velocity your wrists are doing and eventually, it wouldn’t be long enough for her to be deprived of it.

It’s a decent shower, not excessive but god, it’s just right. Her messy bangs got caught off on the process, a little stained and you did what you could to seal the promise, her nose, mouth, chin and most importantly, the scaffolding of her glasses, stained with that white liquid that’s drained out of you.

To be honest, you clearly forgot the existence of such an element, but glad you’re able to cover it and fulfill her needs.

“Fuck—god.” Yujin’s breaths are erratic, still kneeling down and scooping the remnants of your cum and tasting, undeniably satisfied with the outcome. “Considering the load in my pussy, you still came a lot.”

It’s still surprising how she sounds so confident saying such sinful words, but being still in the trance, you wouldn’t mind it so much. “Dropping the names, huh?”

“Oh, sorry—”

“Hey, hey, it’s totally fine, Yujin.” Still managing to display humor, she laughed it off in relief, dropping the act and exchanging exhausted breaths in every second that counts.

“Well, I guess we should clean up, sir.” You help her stand up, legs trembling as she laughs it out and reassures you that everything is going to be fine.

“Yeah, we should, I’ll call up my—”

“No sir—” Her hands stop you from grabbing your phone on the desk, unharmed, and you’re painting shock with her actions.

“Why?”

Yujin stares at you, removing the cum-stained glasses and onto the desk and you can clearly see what she’s made of, a monster in the making. “Just us, please, sir—at your place.”

That’s a bold move, but considering what happened, it wouldn’t be much of a deal as you drop the hierarchical advantage you possess. “There’s still another hole you haven’t stretched yet.”

The wink was the cherry on top and you swear to god, this girl will break you, possibly into millions of pieces more.

You need to fix yourselves up first, and with the obviously influenced and hurried decision, it was damn sealed in the history books.

“How can I resist that?” Your chuckles reflect your masked answer, and clearly, she knows what’s bound to happen. “Guess tomorrow’s going to be your day off then.”

She broke you, and it’s mutual between both parties. Possibly, the threat of a tension between Wonyoung and herself would break apart with this profound comeback of such roots yet who knows?

These hours have been stressful and quick, but nonetheless, absolutely phenomenal and baffling…

#ive smut #ive x male reader #ahn yujin smut #ahn yujin x male reader #yujin smut #yujin x male reader

1K notes · View notes

toshisdecadence · 10 days ago

Text

Dangerous Liaisons

PAIRING: nerd!kento nanami x rich girl!fem reader

TAGS & WARNINGS: dark content, dubcon, cheating (reader is in a relationship with satoru gojo), unprotected sex, bullying, virgin!nanami, cherry popping, mind break, manhandling, rough sex, oral sex (m and f receiving), degradation, praise, fingering, semi-public male masturbation, premature ejaculation (nanami cums as soon as he enters the punani), dirty talk, creampies, dumbification, overstimulation, marathon sex, size kink, size difference, mating press, missionary, public sex, quickies

WORD COUNT: 17.4k

SUMMARY: Your popular boyfriend is an utter disappointment in bed, so why not entertain the quiet nerd you’ve picked on since freshman year, Kento Nanami?

Kento hated this class. Not because it was difficult—if anything, it was insultingly easy. The professor was an underpaid, overworked adjunct, and most of the students here were either too hungover or too rich to care. The professor barely looked up from his slides, droning through material Kento mastered years ago. No, he hated this class because of you.

You sat in front of him, as always, in that ridiculous little skirt. Too short, too tight, your legs crossed at the knee, bouncing absently like you were bored out of your mind. You didn’t belong here—not in this class, not in this seat.

And yet, week after week, you slid into the spot directly in front of him, all perfect hair and perfumed skin, a picture of effortless, spoiled perfection.

You didn’t take notes. You didn’t need to.

Because you took his.

A perfectly manicured hand reached back, plucking his open notebook from his desk like it belonged to you. You didn’t ask. You never did. The first time it happened, Kento assumed you were just borrowing it for a moment, flipping through for something you missed. But then you did it again. And again. And again. And it became clear—you weren’t borrowing anything. You were simply taking.

Just like you took everything.

You leaned back in your chair, one hand flipping through his notes, the other idly toying with a lock of your hair. You smelled expensive, something soft and floral, the kind of scent that lingered, that sunk into his senses and refused to leave. He clenched his jaw.

You hummed, lazily twirling his pen between your fingers. “Your handwriting is so ugly.”

Kento didn’t answer. He never did.

A sigh, long-suffering. “It’s kind of pathetic, you know?” you murmured, voice dripping with mockery. “That you take all these notes. Like, for what?” You flipped to another page, tapping your nail against the margin. “You don’t even need them, do you?”

You didn’t wait for a response. You never did.

Instead, you lifted your head, finally turning to look at him, and—fuck.

You were obscene.

Big, pretty eyes framed by thick lashes, lips glossy and soft, a slight smirk tugging at the corners. You looked soft, deceptively sweet, like you didn’t whisper venom at him every chance you got. Like you didn’t sneer at him with that perfect fucking mouth.

His fingers tightened around his desk.

“I bet you just like the act of taking notes,” you mused, propping your chin on your palm. “Like, I don’t know. Maybe it makes you feel important.” A tilt of your head, eyes gleaming with mirth. “Or maybe you just need something to do with your hands, huh?”

You paused. Then, lips curving, you let your gaze drop—slowly, deliberately—to his lap.

Kento’s breath stopped.

You saw the way his body tensed. And you liked it.

A quiet, amused tsk slipped past your lips before you leaned back again, stretching just enough for your skirt to inch higher up your thighs. “God, you must be so pent up.” A soft, theatrical sigh. “It’s so sad.”

Kento exhaled, slow and controlled, willing his pulse to steady.

This was what you did. You pushed and pushed, watching him like you were waiting for him to crack, to react, to break.

And maybe, one day, he will.

For now, he refused to give you the satisfaction. He kept his expression blank, jaw locked, and eyes forward. The only indication of his irritation was the way his pen pressed harder against the page, indenting the paper beneath the ink.

You noticed. Of course, you did.

A smirk tugged at the corner of your lips before you turned your attention back to his notes, flipping lazily through the pages you never worked for.

Class dragged on. The professor droned on, his voice fading into a dull hum beneath the restless shifting of students and the occasional click of a pen against a desk. But Kento felt every second. Every agonizing minute of your presence in front of him, your scent in the air, your bare legs crossed just right.

You were a nuisance. A brat. A shallow, self-absorbed parasite who took and taunted and smiles like you weren’t absolutely unbearable.

But you were also beautiful.

It pissed him the fuck off.

And then—finally—the lecture came to an end.

Chairs scraped against the floor as students started shuffling out, stretching, slinging bags over their shoulders. Kento moved to close his notebook, only for you to slap it shut yourself.

He glared at you.

You don’t even look at him as you shoved it back toward him across the desk. “You’re welcome,” you said airily.

Kento scoffed. "For what?"

You grinned. “For keeping you entertained.”

And then you stood, stretching languidly, your arms rising above your head, making your tiny top ride up just enough to expose a sliver of smooth skin.

Kento forced himself to look away.

He shouldn’t care. He should be relieved that you were leaving. That this little game of yours was over for now.

A group of voices called your name, familiar, equally rich and gilded, the kind of students who take up space like they own it. Your friends.

You turned, your entire demeanor shifting the moment you face them. The teasing sneer, the lazy smirk—all of it vanished, replaced with something softer, something sweeter. You laughed at something one of them said, an airy, melodic sound, and for a moment, you looked every bit the perfect girl they thought you were.

And you didn’t spare Kento another glance.

Not really.

Not until you were already stepping away, your attention elsewhere, your expression unreadable—when, just before you disappeared into the crowd, you flicked your gaze toward him, a brief, flickering glance that lasted no more than a second.

You had always been the kind of girl who never had to try.

Perfect hair. Perfect skin. Perfect smile.

And him—the perfect boyfriend.

Satoru Gojo.

Tall, rich, loud, obnoxiously handsome in a way that made people look, that made them linger, that made them listen when he spoke, even when he said nothing at all. He walked like he owned the world, because he did, in all the ways that mattered. Money. Looks. Status. He had all of it. You had all of it.

And Kento? He had nothing.

He knew he didn’t belong. Not in this group, not at this table, not in your orbit.

But fate—or some cruel joke of a professor he had during freshman year—had placed him here, seated stiffly among you and your perfect, gilded friends, drowning in your perfume and laughter while you picked at overpriced food you wouldn’t even finish.

It was supposed to be a study session.

But no one was studying.

Satoru lounged back in his seat, long legs spread wide, arm slung over the back of your chair, the very picture of effortless ease. Your other friends—the same brand of wealthy, attractive, untouchable—chatted idly, laughing at jokes Kento didn’t understand, referencing parties he would never attend.

And then, there was you.

You sat beside Satoru, draped in something light and expensive, a gold bracelet clinking against your wrist as you idly scrolled through your phone. You weren’t even pretending to try.

Kento clenched his jaw, staring at the blank pages of his notebook.

He had taken notes. He had come prepared. He had assumed—foolishly, stupidly—that this would at least be somewhat productive.

But of course, he should have known better.

The laughter, the murmured conversations, the occasional chime of a notification—none of it stopped. Not for him. Not for the assignment.

And finally, when his patience thinned past the point of tolerance, he spoke.

“Should we actually start working on this?”

It was quiet at first. Barely even a pause.

"Oh my God."

Your voice, high and lilting, cut through the chatter like a blade.

You set your phone down, blinking at him like he had just said something absurd. “Are you, like… serious?”

A slow blink. A delicate tilt of your head.

“Relax, nerd. It’s not that deep.”

The word nerd shouldn’t have been anything.

It shouldn’t have hit.

But you said it like it meant something. Like it was a title. A death sentence. And worst of all, like it amused you.

The others snickered.

Satoru smirked. “Babe, be nice.”

You pouted, full lips curving. “I am being nice.”

A soft giggle. A delicate stretch of your arms, making your already-too-short skirt inch up just a little higher.

“I just feel kinda bad for him, you know?” you continued, resting your chin in your palm. “He’s so serious all the time. No parties, no friends, no girlfriend—like, has anyone even seen him with a girl?”

More laughter. More murmured jokes.

Kento stiffened, fingers tightening around his pen.

He should have let it slide. He wanted to let it slide.

But you didn’t stop.

“Wait.” You straightened, bright-eyed, as if a revelation had struck you. “Oh my God. Are you a virgin?”

The world stopped.

For just a moment, a terrible, ringing silence settled over the group.

And then, Satoru laughed.

Loud, unbothered, careless. His arm tightened around your shoulders, drawing you closer, pressing a quick, lazy kiss to your temple like a reward.

Kento could feel the heat creeping up his neck, spreading like a slow, poisonous burn.

Your expression didn’t change. You just watched him, lips curled in something knowing, something cruel.

It wasn’t a question. It was a statement.

And it didn’t even matter if it was true or not.

Because you had already decided it was. Because you had already won.

Because that’s what you did.

Your life was perfect. Untouchable. A well-manicured, impossibly beautiful, endlessly cruel existence. You ruined people without trying. You destroyed them without even noticing.

And Kento was just another name on the list.

You always arrived late.

Not late enough to be unprofessional—never enough to call it irresponsible. Just enough to make an entrance.

And God, did you know how to make an entrance.

The door swung open with a careless push, a soft clack of designer heels against the polished floor, a faint trace of something expensive curling through the air—vanilla, jasmine, something sweeter at the edges, something uniquely yours.

Kento didn’t have to look up to know it was you.

The shift in the room told him before his eyes could confirm it. The way people straightened, conversations paused, the subtle ripple of awareness that spread through the group the moment you stepped inside.

You had that effect on people. Effortlessly. Unfairly.

He kept his gaze fixed on the papers in front of him, gripping his pen a little too tightly.

Ignore her.

But ignoring you was impossible. Because you weren’t just anyone.

You were the editor-in-chief. And Kento was your associate editor-in-chief.

Which meant that no matter how much he despised sharing space with you, no matter how much he hated your too-sweet perfume and your cruel, pretty mouth, he had no choice but to endure it.

The chair beside him scraped against the floor, and there it was—your voice, too smooth, too amused.

"Good morning, Ken."

A nickname you had no right to use. A nickname no one else ever did use.

He exhaled slowly, willing himself to stay calm.

"You're late," he muttered, flipping a page in his notes.

"I know." A sigh, exaggerated, full of insincere remorse. "It’s just so hard waking up early when I have so many other things to do at night."

Kento’s grip tightened. He didn’t rise to the bait.

You leaned in anyway.

"I mean, you wouldn’t understand, but some of us actually have lives outside of this club."

There it was again. That effortless, lazy cruelty.

And the worst part?

It wasn’t even targeted.

It wasn’t some calculated attempt to get under his skin. It wasn’t personal.

It was just who you were.

You were beautiful. And rich. And powerful. And perfect. And you had spent your whole life floating through the world, never once stumbling, never once struggling, never once having to try.

And him? Kento had spent his whole life trying.

He inhaled deeply, forcing himself to stay level. "We need to finalize the revisions today."

You blinked, then leaned back with a careless stretch, crossing your legs. The movement was fluid, absentminded, yet somehow still deliberate—the way your skirt rode up just a little too high, the way your delicate fingers drummed against the desk like you were already bored.

"Mhm," you hummed, reaching out to take the proofs from his side of the table, flipping through them without a glance in his direction.

And that was what infuriated him the most.

Not that you didn’t respect his work.

But that you did.

That you skimmed over pages of his meticulous notes, scanned his reworked layouts, and still—still—caught things he had missed.

"Page twelve." A flick of a manicured nail against the paper. "This paragraph is redundant. We already mentioned the same statistic in the opening."

Kento tensed.

You turned another page. "And this quote on page eighteen? The formatting's inconsistent with the others. The spacing is wrong."

A slow, creeping irritation curled in his stomach.

Because you weren’t just some spoiled brat who had coasted your way to the top on your last name and pretty little smiles.

You saw everything.

You were competent. You were sharp. You were smart, despite how you liked to make people underestimate you. You were fully capable of doing everything he did—

You just didn’t have to.

Because he would do it for you. Because he already had.

"Honestly, Ken," you murmured, lips curling just slightly. "I thought you were supposed to be the smart one."

He clenched his jaw. "If you noticed the errors, why didn’t you fix them?"

You smiled, slow and sweet.

"Because I knew you would."

God, he hated you.

You were always surrounded.

It didn’t matter where you were—the library, the quad, the cafés near campus—there was always a group orbiting you. Fellow rich kids, glossy and beautiful and effortless, people who had never known what it was to try, who had never needed to. You existed among them like a queen among nobles, perfectly placed, perfectly poised, the shining center of something untouchable.

And Kento only ever watched from the edges. Not because he wanted to. Because he couldn’t help it.

Because no matter how much he hated you, he couldn’t seem to stop looking.

Like now.

You were sitting on the grass, head tilted back, laughing at something shallow, something meaningless. Your hair caught the late afternoon light, gleaming like something out of a goddamn commercial, your lips glossed and perfect, curving in that effortless, smug little smile. You were radiant. Unbothered. A creature made for silk sheets and champagne glasses, for red-carpet events and first-class flights, for a life that had never included people like him.

And then there was Satoru.

Gojo fucking Satoru.

Your perfect boyfriend. The embodiment of everything Kento despised.

Loud, arrogant, stupidly rich, stupidly powerful—the kind of man who had never heard the word no in his entire life.

And worst of all—he didn’t care.

Not about anything. Not about you.

Not the way Kento did.

Satoru sat beside you, legs spread wide, his arm draped over your shoulders in a way that was more possession than affection. His fingers traced lazy circles along the exposed skin of your arm, his hand slipping lower, lower, fingers curling beneath the hem of your tiny skirt like it was the most natural thing in the world.

Kento hated it.

But he hated you more. Because you just let him.

Didn’t blush. Didn’t flinch. Didn’t care.

Or—

No.

No, that wasn’t quite right.

Kento’s eyes narrowed, watching the way your hand smoothed down your skirt—like you weren’t fixing it, not really, but subtly keeping him from slipping any higher. The way you didn’t quite lean into Satoru’s touch, how your smile stayed exactly the same, never faltering, never changing, like it was just another performance.

Like you were used to this. Like you barely even felt it.

Satoru leaned in, murmuring something in your ear, something low and teasing, and Kento saw the way you laughed—just a little too loud, just a little too bright.

Satoru smirked, pleased with himself.

But Kento saw it.

The way your gaze flickered for just a second, the way your fingers toyed absently with the hem of your skirt, the way you seemed so bored of it.

Like it wasn’t enough. Like he wasn’t enough.

A sick, ugly thing curled inside Kento’s chest, hot and restless, something that tasted like satisfaction and something else he didn’t want to name.

Satoru didn’t notice. Of course he didn’t. Because Satoru had never needed to notice anything.

His hand slid higher again, but you shifted just slightly, not enough to draw attention, but enough that his fingers brushed over fabric instead of skin.

Satoru only chuckled, tipping his head back to say something to the others, already distracted.

Like it didn’t matter. Like you didn’t matter.

And Kento had seen enough.

He stood abruptly, shoving his book into his bag, turning away before he could watch another second of it.

Before he could do something stupid. Before he could want you any more than he already did. Because that was the worst part.

No matter how much he despised you, no matter how much he resented the way you lived, he still wanted you.

And he fucking hated himself for it.

You were in a mood.

Kento could tell the moment you stalked into the publication office, patent leather heels clicking against the linoleum floor with a little too much force, designer bag slamming onto the desk in front of him like it had personally offended you.

The office was empty, just the two of you staying behind after hours to finalize the logistics for next month’s events—workshops, professor partnerships, competitions. Boring, tedious work. The kind of work that Kento did for you.

But tonight, you weren’t just idly flipping through the finalized schedules, making minor adjustments and circling things in red ink to remind him of details he had already accounted for. Tonight, you were barely paying attention. Your eyes flicked over the papers with zero focus, your perfectly manicured nails tapping against the desk, irritation radiating from you in waves.

Which meant one thing.

Something was bothering you.

And since you were you, that meant you were taking it out on him.

“This is a mess,” you muttered, scanning the event schedule, flipping between pages as if looking for mistakes.

“It’s fine,” Kento replied evenly, watching you carefully.

You scoffed, giving him that look—the one that was equal parts incredulous and condescending, the one that made him want to either strangle you or shove you against a wall, just to see what it would take to wipe that smugness off your face.

“You think this is fine?” You snapped the folder shut, crossing your arms over your chest. “The workshop dates overlap with midterms. Half the guest lecturers have been booked for panels during that week. And this whole section—” You tapped a finger against the budget sheet. “—is a fucking disaster.”

Kento exhaled slowly, reining in the impulse to roll his eyes.

“We discussed this last week. The scheduling conflicts have already been handled, and the budget has been approved. There’s nothing wrong with it.”

Your jaw tightened. You knew he was right.

That wasn’t the point.

The point was that you were pissed off about something else, and Kento was your easiest target.

You sat back in your chair, blowing out an irritated sigh, rubbing your temples like this entire conversation was just another chore for you. “Whatever. I don’t care. Just fix it.”

He clenched his teeth.

There was nothing to fix, but he knew better than to argue with you when you were like this.

“Rough night?” he muttered, knowing full well he was prodding the beast.

You huffed, slumping back in your chair, letting your head tilt against the headrest. “Ugh, so rough.”

Kento stared at you, waiting for the inevitable self-centered monologue that usually followed—a rant about an incompetent nail tech, or how some poor girl wore the same designer dress as you at a party, or how your father was demanding you attend some tedious gala.

Instead—

“I didn’t get off last night.”

Kento stilled.

Your voice was flat. Completely unbothered. Like you had just announced that your coffee order was wrong or that your Wi-Fi was being slow.

And yet, Kento felt his entire body lock up.

You sighed, tilting your head toward him, lips pursed in annoyance. “Toru is so bad in bed.”

Kento could only stare at you, barely keeping his expression neutral.

What the fuck was he supposed to do with that information?

You didn’t notice his silence—or if you did, you didn’t care.

You just kept going. “He’s all talk, you know? So cocky, but he barely even tries. Half the time, I feel like I’m just lying there, waiting for it to be over.” You exhaled sharply, tapping your nails against the desk. “It’s such a nuisance.”

A nuisance.

Like bad Wi-Fi. Like a chipped nail.

Like Gojo fucking you was just another mild inconvenience in your charmed little life.

Kento felt something dark crawl up his spine, something heavy and ugly, something he couldn’t name.

Not because you were talking about your sex life. But because of the way you said it.

Careless. Indifferent. Like it didn’t even occur to you that Kento, sitting across from you, was a man.

Because why would it? You had never looked at him as anything but an afterthought.

And that—that was the thing that sent something in him curdling.

That made his fingers flex against the armrest, his pulse hammer at his throat, his mouth go dry.

Because Satoru wasn’t enough for you. Because Satoru didn’t satisfy you. Because you had everything—beauty, power, status—and yet you were bored.

And yet, Kento still wasn’t even worth considering.

He swallowed, forcing his voice to remain steady. “Maybe you should… talk to him about it.”

You scoffed. “Please. Like he’d even listen.” You stretched your arms above your head, sighing like this was all just some exhausting ordeal. “Whatever. He’s fun, I guess. But sometimes I just think—”

You stopped abruptly, eyes flicking toward Kento, studying him for just a second before dismissing him with a careless blink.

“Never mind,” you murmured, shaking your head. “Let’s just deal with the logistics.”

And that—that was when Kento decided that someday, someday, he was going to make you eat those words.

The meeting dragged on. Or maybe it just felt that way.

Kento kept his expression neutral, his posture stiff, his hands folded carefully over his lap, hiding the painful strain pressing against the front of his slacks. He was aching, throbbing beneath the table, his body betraying him at every turn, but you didn’t notice.

Of course, you didn’t.

You were too distracted—pacing in front of his desk, arms crossed beneath your chest, your phone clutched in one manicured hand, tapping impatiently against the back of it.

"You need to follow up with the department head for the workshop," you muttered, barely looking at him. "I don’t have the patience to deal with that idiot right now."

Kento swallowed hard. He nodded, careful, precise, willing himself to think about anything other than the way your perfume lingered in the air, sweet and heady, wrapping around him like an unwanted vice.

"Are the event posters done?"

"Yes," he said, voice steady despite the tightness in his throat. "I finalized them this morning."

"Good. I’ll sign off on them later." You sighed, tapping your nails against your phone, frustration curling at the edges of your words. "Alright, let’s just wrap this up. I have places to be."

Just like that, the meeting was over. You smoothed your skirt over your thighs, gathered your things, barely sparing him a glance before making your way to the door.

Kento sat perfectly still, forcing himself to breathe through the tension coiling tight in his gut. His entire body was too aware—of the way his slacks clung uncomfortably to his lap, of the way his cock throbbed, of the unbearable heat pressing beneath his skin like something feverish.

The door clicked shut.

Silence.

And then, finally, a long, shuddering exhale.

The air in the office felt thick, suffocating. His mind kept looping through every movement, every sharp sigh, every absent flick of your hair, the way you crossed your legs when you sat, the unimpressed glance you shot him before leaving.

"Toru is so bad in bed."

His fingers twitched against the desk.

"Half the time, I feel like I’m just lying there, waiting for it to be over."

A slow inhale.

"It’s such a nuisance."

Fuck.

Kento clenched his jaw, heat surging through his spine, tension pulsing painfully at the base of his cock. He had spent years assuming your life was perfect. That you had everything. That there was nothing you lacked, no void unfilled.

But now he knew.

You weren’t satisfied. Not by Satoru. Not by anyone.

And fuck, he could fix that.

His grip tightened against his thigh. He shouldn’t. He should not. But his body was screaming for relief, throbbing with frustration, his skin on fire with the thought of you—your voice, your breath, your perfect mouth.

The ache was unbearable.

His breath came out unsteady as his hand slipped beneath the desk, fingers trembling slightly as he undid his belt, palming over the thick, aching need straining against his briefs.

It was humiliating. It was pathetic. But it was you.

His fingers wrapped around himself, and a ragged, broken groan tore from his throat—his body jerking slightly at the sheer relief of finally touching where he needed it most.

You would feel so much better under him. You would sob for him. You would thank him.

His grip tightened, his breath stuttering, his rhythm quickening.

You were perfect. Too perfect. Too cruel. Too untouchable. And he wanted to ruin you. Ruin you the way you had ruined him.

Heat coiled low in his gut, winding too tight, too fast—his body strung out, shaking—and then—

A sharp inhale. A ragged exhale.

Pleasure hit him like a train wreck, knocking the air from his lungs. His head tipped back, chest rising and falling in uneven gasps, body jerking against the desk as his orgasm ripped through him in hot, shuddering waves—

And then—

His gaze flickered down.

His breath caught.

The documents.

The finalized event posters. The workshop schedules. The budget approvals.

Splattered. Fucking ruined.

"Shit."

Kento jerked forward, chest still heaving, post-orgasm clarity slamming into him like a brutal slap as he grabbed the nearest tissue, wiping down the mess in frantic, quick strokes.

The ink was already smudging.

The glossy event posters were unsalvageable. The workshop schedule was soaked through. His signature was smeared at the bottom of an approval form.

Fucking hell.

He let out a sharp, exhausted sigh, dragging a hand down his face, glaring down at the wreckage on his desk.

This was pathetic. He was pathetic.

And yet he was still hard. Still throbbing. Still aching for more. Still thinking of you.

He needed to get his fucking act together.

And yet the thought lingered, unshakable, looping through his mind like a curse:

He could do you better.

You weren’t in the mood for this.

You had barely made it halfway to the parking lot when you realized—your goddamn notebook. Left sitting on the desk in the publication office like a fucking afterthought. And now, thanks to your own scatterbrained negligence, you were stomping back through the quiet halls, the heels of your designer shoes clicking against the linoleum in sharp, irritated taps.

The office was dark when you got there, save for the slanted beam of light from the desk lamp—Kento must’ve left it on before locking up.

You huffed under your breath, pushing the door open.

The familiar space greeted you, the scent of paper and printer ink still clinging to the air. It was empty, as expected. Neat. Organized. Kento always kept it that way, probably the only reason the place didn’t look like an absolute mess considering no one else gave a shit about maintaining it.

Your eyes flicked over to your desk, and sure enough, there it was—your notebook, sitting right where you left it. You grabbed it, flipping through the pages with a lazy hand, already thinking about getting the hell out of here and going home to sleep.

And then your gaze caught on something near the trash can.

A mess of papers, discarded in a way that wasn’t like him. Kento wasn’t careless. He didn’t toss things out unless they were absolutely useless, and even then, he usually shredded them or filed them away first.

Frowning, you stepped closer, brow furrowing at the sight.

The glossy event posters. The finalized workshop schedules. The budget approval forms.

Ruined.

Blotched with something thick, cloudy, and unmistakably human.

You paused.

The room was silent, empty except for the low hum of the air conditioning, the faint ticking of the clock on the wall. And yet, your ears were ringing.

Your lips parted slightly, tongue pressing against the roof of your mouth as you stared, unmoving.

Slowly, your brain began assembling the pieces, each one clicking into place like the slow, precise slide of a loaded gun chambering a round.

The tension in the meeting. The way Kento had been sitting so stiffly. The way he had refused to stand up for the entire discussion. The slight breathlessness in his voice when he answered you. The way he kept his hands folded so tightly over his lap.

And now this.

Your lashes lowered, a breath pushing past your lips, slow and considering.

A breath of laughter nearly slipped from your throat, but you caught it at the last second.

Instead, your head tilted slightly, a manicured nail tapping absently against the leather-bound cover of your notebook.

You had always assumed Kento thought lowly of you. That he hated you, resented you. And maybe he did.

But it seemed he wanted you, too. Even against his better judgment. Even to the point of fucking ruining something he worked so hard on.

Your eyes lingered on the discarded papers for a moment longer before you turned away, the ghost of a knowing smirk curling at the edges of your lips.

Interesting.

Very, very interesting.

The event hall hummed with the steady murmur of conversation—polite, professional, controlled. Students and faculty alike filled the auditorium, their focus split between the panel at the front and the thick event packets in their hands.

You sat at the head of the table, perfectly poised, every bit the picture of effortless authority. Sleek designer blazer, just barely buttoned. Skirt scandalously short, the fabric riding higher every time you crossed your legs. A carefully curated vision of power and indulgence, designed to hold attention without even trying.

And Kento was trying very hard not to look at you.

Rigid. Too stiff in his seat beside you, fingers clenched subtly around the event brochure in his lap. Answering questions with precise, measured words, keeping his tone smooth, professional. To anyone else, he looked like himself—just another serious, bookish overachiever, the same as always.

But you could feel it.

The tension. The way he was holding himself too still, like any shift, any movement might betray something.

Which was why you leaned in.

Just slightly. Just enough for your perfume to slip into his space, for your voice to drop into something low and private. Close enough for only him to hear.

"By the way, I saw what you did."

Kento froze.

A second too long.

The reaction was nearly imperceptible—the faintest hitch in his breath, the twitch in his fingers, a single, fleeting flick of his gaze to you before snapping forward again.

But you saw it. His composure was ironclad, but beneath it—beneath the cool, methodical exterior—you knew.

He was guessing. Trying to place what you meant. Because he didn’t know.

Didn’t know if you were referring to last week, to that, to the soiled workshop papers he had hastily shoved into the trash.

Or if this was just another game.

Another taunt, another ploy to rattle him, to make him slip up in front of over a hundred people.

And that uncertainty? That sliver of doubt you had planted in his mind?

Delicious.

Before he could respond, before he could force his voice into something even and composed, the next speaker took the mic. The moment passed.

The event wrapped up as expected, Kento standing beside you as students and faculty filtered out. He looked the same as ever—polite, professional.

But you saw the stiffness in his movements. The way he kept his eyes on anything but you.

So, of course, you pressed just a little further.

"You should come to my party tonight."

Kento exhaled sharply through his nose, like the idea alone was enough to irritate him. "I don’t go to parties."

"Oh, I know," you said lightly, tilting your head. "But you should. Consider it a token of my gratitude."

A pause.

And then, with a slow, deliberate smirk on your perfect face, "You’ve been such a good little worker bee for me, after all."

You didn’t need to look to know he had gone still again. Didn’t need to wait for his answer.

Because you knew, despite himself, despite everything you’ve done, he’d come.

Kento knew excess when he saw it.

But this was something else entirely.

The estate sat on the highest ridge of the city, sprawled across acres of perfectly manicured land. The mansion itself—a towering, neoclassical monolith of marble and glass—was nestled at the end of a sweeping, half-moon driveway lined with imported trees and sculpted hedges. A fountain sat in the center, carved from ivory stone, its water glittering under the glow of soft, recessed lighting.

The air smelled expensive.

Leather. Perfume. Aged wine and lacquered wood.

Everywhere, there were cars. The kind that cost more than Kento’s yearly tuition, sleek bodies sprawled lazily across the vast driveway, some with drivers still seated, waiting, engines humming as if idling in anticipation. People stood around them, laughing, glasses of champagne in their hands, dressed in casual luxury—tailored linen shirts and designer dresses with plunging backs, statement jewelry worth more than his entire apartment.

And then, of course, there was the house itself.

The entrance was wide open, a stream of guests moving in and out beneath soaring archways. Music pulsed from inside—something bass-heavy, distorted by distance—mingling with the low hum of laughter, the clink of glass against glass.

It was a world Kento had never stepped into. Never wanted to step into.

And yet, he was here.

Because of you.

His fingers tightened at his sides. A part of him still wasn’t sure if this was a mistake. If he had been lured here, invited only to be made a spectacle of. The possibility that this was another game, another perfectly executed humiliation at your hands, gnawed at him.

And yet he had come.

His throat felt tight as he exhaled, slipping his hands into his pockets, forcing himself to move forward—through the grand, yawning entrance, past a pair of servers carrying trays of delicate hors d'oeuvres, into the vast, obscene display of wealth beyond.

Inside, the air was thick—choked with the mingling scents of perfume, liquor, and smoke. Music pulsed through the grand estate, muffled beneath the sound of conversation and laughter, a backdrop to the sheer decadence of it all. There was nowhere safe to look, nowhere that didn’t scream extravagance: fine crystal balanced precariously in manicured hands, top-shelf whiskey spilling onto Persian rugs, designer shoes discarded against pristine marble floors.

And then there were the people.

Men in tailored suits, women in slinky dresses, bodies pressed too close, lips dragging over exposed throats in darkened corners. Someone was counting out cash in thick stacks at a makeshift poker table. A girl perched on a countertop, her tanned legs spread apart as a man kissed his way up her thigh. A group of men gathered around a beer pong table, laughing as they tossed hundred-thousand-yen bills into a pot with every shot made, betting obscene amounts of money like it meant nothing.

And to them, it didn’t.

Kento clenched his jaw, the muscles ticking.

He hated this.

Every single thing about it. The careless waste, the meaningless indulgence, the sheer gluttony of privilege on display. And above all—above all—he hated you.

He spotted you instantly, because of course he did. You stood at the center of it all, draped in something expensive, skin glowing under the warm golden light, laughter slipping past painted lips as some faceless man tried—and failed—to keep your attention. You were radiant, as always. Unbothered. Perfect.

You were impossible not to see.

The party—opulent and wild, drowning in wealth—should have been overwhelming. A blur of bodies, low light, silk dresses and tailored suits, people gathered around a marble bar and splayed lazily across velvet lounges, golden liquor swaying in crystal glasses.

And yet, none of it mattered. Because you were at the center of it all. Radiant. Effortless.

You sat perched on the edge of a grand leather settee, legs crossed, a glass of champagne hanging loosely between manicured fingers. Your dress was something indecent—shimmering fabric that clung to your every perfect curve, short enough to ride up your thighs, neckline plunging scandalously low. Hair styled to perfection, jewelry catching the dim, warm glow of the chandeliers overhead.

Everywhere, eyes were on you. Men. Women. Envious, admiring, desperate. And yet, none of them mattered.

Not to you. And certainly not to Kento.

Because when he stepped inside, when the heavy doors shut behind him, the shift in atmosphere was almost imperceptible—a current, a whisper, the faintest tremor in the air.

And then your gaze flicked up.

And found him.

For just a moment, you held it.

Cool. Assessing.

Then, the faintest curve of your lips.

A knowing smirk.

And just like that, you turned away—dismissed him, like he was just another guest, another faceless, insignificant presence in a crowd that didn’t deserve your attention.

He should have looked away. Should have stopped looking. But his eyes stayed locked on you, stupidly, pathetically, following the way you sipped from a delicate crystal glass, the way you leaned in when you spoke, the way people bent toward you as if drawn by some unspoken gravity.

His hands curled into fists.

It wasn’t just that you were beautiful. It wasn’t just that you carried yourself with the effortless grace of someone who had never known struggle. It was that you wielded it like a weapon. Your beauty, your privilege, your very presence—everything about you was designed to remind him that he didn’t belong.

And God, did you love to remind him.

Kento exhaled sharply, forcing himself to look away. His pulse was thrumming too hard, something ugly and resentful clawing at his ribs, heat coiling low in his gut like a sickness.

He never should have come.

And he wasn’t going to stay.

A cruel joke—that’s all this had been. Another little game of yours. You had never actually expected him to show up, never wanted him here. That much was clear from the moment you locked eyes and turned away like he was just another nameless guest, not even worth acknowledging.

Well. That was fine.

Kento turned sharply, intent on leaving. On stepping back out onto that half-crescent driveway, calling a cab, and forgetting this night ever happened—

A hand curled around his wrist.

Kento froze.

Heat spread like a wildfire across his skin, his pulse stuttering in his throat. He knew—knew—before he even turned around.

And when he did, there you were.

Smiling.

That same knowing, teasing smirk. As if you knew exactly what you had done to him. As if you had waited just long enough—waited for him to sink into his resentment, to let it fester and rot inside him, to let him seethe—only to step in and ruin it all.

“Leaving already?” you murmured, voice lilting, effortlessly amused.

Kento swallowed, his throat dry. His whole body was tense, something sharp and unbearable clawing beneath his skin, too much, too fucking much—

And then you pulled.

Without waiting for an answer, without giving him the chance to hesitate, you curled your fingers tighter around his wrist and dragged him with you.

Your grip around Kento’s wrist was firm as you led him deeper into the house, weaving effortlessly through long, marbled hallways and past elaborately carved archways. You didn’t pause to check directions, didn’t so much as glance at the gilded-framed paintings, the marble busts, the heavy double doors leading to unknown rooms.

You knew exactly where you were going.

And that alone unsettled him.

“Been here before?” His voice was low, measured, but there’s something sharp laced beneath it.

You glanced at him over your shoulder, that same amused, impossible little smirk playing at your lips. Like you knew something he didn’t. Like you always did.

“It’s my family’s place.”

Kento felt his stomach curl.

You said it like it was nothing. Like it was just another fact of your perfect, charmed life. Like this estate, this palace, this world of impossible wealth and material excess—had simply always been yours.

“I’m borrowing it for the summer,” you added, voice light, almost dismissive, before tugging him past a pair of ornately carved double doors.

Inside, the air was different.

Thicker. Quieter.

The sounds of the party dulled behind thick walls as the lock clicked into place. And Kento realized, in an instant, that he was alone with you.

The bedroom is too much.

Lush and sprawling, easily the size of his apartment, if not larger. Floor-to-ceiling windows stretch across one wall, draped in heavy velvet curtains, and at the center of the room—a massive four-poster bed, silk sheets draped artfully, an extravagant vanity lined with expensive glass perfume bottles, a chandelier casting soft, golden light over everything.

It was decadent. Intimate.

The air between you changed the second the lock clicked shut.

He didn’t move. And neither did you.

You just stood there, leaning against the vanity, head tilted, lashes lowered, gaze assessing. Taking him in, piece by piece.

Something shifted. Something tightened.

Because you knew. Kento knew that you knew.

He could see it in the way your lips curled slightly at the edges, the flicker of amusement in your eyes. In the way your gaze dragged just a little too slowly over him—taking in how he cleaned up, how he tried to fit in, the navy button-down, the tailored slacks, the polished leather of his belt and shoes. He didn’t look out of place. But he felt it. And you see it.

That fucking smirk.

“You clean up well,” you murmured, almost absentmindedly. “Almost looks like you belong here.”

Almost.

Kento clenched his jaw.

Your gaze flickered, deliberate and knowing, and then—your lashes lowered.

Slowly.

Mocking.

Kento stayed rooted where he stands, back straight, muscles tense, eyes scanning the room as if searching for an escape. He’d been on edge since the moment you dragged him in here—some lavish guest room in this monstrous estate you so casually called a summer home. And yet, for all his stiffness, for all the tension lined in his shoulders, you could see it—he was trying not to look at you. And that just made you smile.

You tilted your head, stepping toward the side of the bed, smoothing your palm along the silk sheets. Your gaze flickered back to him, assessing, amused. He’s cleaned up well tonight. Neatly-pressed slacks, that button-up tailored to fit his broad frame, that quiet, understated elegance he carries so effortlessly. If he weren’t standing so rigid, if he weren’t so painfully out of place, he might’ve even fit in here. But he didn’t. And he knew it.

You took a slow step forward. Kento didn’t move.

“You’re so stiff,” you murmured, tilting your head. “It’s almost like you’re nervous.”

His jaw twitched. “I’m not.”

You took another step. Close enough now that you heard the sharp breath he sucked in through his nose.

“Did you hate it that much?” you asked, voice soft, teasing.

He exhaled sharply. “Hate what?”

You grinned. “The party, of course.”

His fingers twitched at his sides. “It was ridiculous.”

A slow hum left your lips. “Is that so?” You let your hand trail idly along the edge of the mattress, smoothing over the sheets. “Or is it just that you’ve never been to one like it before?”

Kento’s silence was telling. You stepped closer. There was only a breath between you now. Your perfume lingered in the air, warm and obscene, curling into the space between you like a perfectly-set trap. His gaze flickered, just briefly, down to your lips—then away, as if cursing himself for the mistake. That made you grin.

“Come closer.”

His brows furrowed. You patted the mattress beside you. “Stand here.”

His arms remained crossed. “Why?”

You just shrugged, lips curling. “Indulge me.”

For a moment, he hesitated. But you waited, watching the battle play out in his head, the rigid line of his spine, the war between defiance and reluctant obedience—until finally, with an exhale sharper than it needed to be, he stepped forward. Closer. You could feel his warmth now, could see the way his throat bobbed when you leaned in, just a little.

And then, softly—sweetly—“Boy, you’re really wound up, huh?”

Kento stiffened.

And fuck, it was so easy.

His tension was palpable, coiled so tight it’s a wonder he hadn’t snapped yet. But he was holding it in, fists tight, jaw clenched, the perfect picture of restraint.

You tilted your head, voice lowering. “Bet you were dying to leave, weren’t you?” You reached out, gently, plucking an invisible thread from his sleeve. “Poor thing.”

Kento inhaled, slow, measured. “Are we done here?”

But you just smiled, tilting your chin up, voice dropping to a whisper, “Still not used to being around people?”

Kento’s jaw ticked.

Your breath was warm against his throat, the edge of your perfume slipping beneath his skin, and you could feel it, how hard he’s holding himself back.

It was delicious. So you took it further.

Your lashes lowered, and—just barely—you let your fingers ghost against his wrist.

And then softly, teasingly, you whispered, “Still a virgin, then?”

Something snapped.

Kento jerked away from your touch, fingers flexed at his sides, and when his gaze locked with yours, it was sharp, heated, furious. And it only made your grin widen.

“Oh,” you murmured, voice honeyed, “so that’s what gets to you.”

His throat bobbed.

“Not the money. Not the excess.” You stepped in again, and he let you, even as his fists curled tight. “Not the fact that you hate me and everything I stand for.” You reached up and smoothed an invisible wrinkle in his shirt, watched, delighted, as he didn't breathe.

“But that little comment I made during freshman year?” You tilted your head. “That still bothers you?”

Kento exhaled sharply through his nose. “I don’t see how it’s your business.”

That made you laugh.

“Of course it isn’t.” You reached up—this close to touching his jaw, his cheekbone, the line of his throat—but at the last moment, you pulled away, as if to deny him something he hadn’t even realized he wanted. “But then again,” you hummed, lashes fluttering, “I don’t think you’d stop me if I wanted to make it my business.”

Kento’s breath hitched. You heard it.

And that was all you needed.

Your voice dipped, lips parted, the cruelest thing he had ever seen, and the next thing you whispered had his mind blanking.

“Do you want me to help?”

Kento didn’t answer right away.

You watched the way his throat bobbed, the subtle twitch of his fingers at his sides, the sharp inhale that betrayed him. He didn’t step closer, but he didn't step away either. He just stood there, stock-still, like a deer caught in headlights.

Your smile widened.

"Well?" you prodded, voice lilting, teasing.

Kento exhaled, sharp and measured, his patience wearing thin. "I think," he gritted out, "you should stop talking."

That made you laugh. "Oh? Am I making you uncomfortable?" You tilted your head, stepping even closer. Close enough now that he could feel the warmth of your breath against his skin. "Or is it that you want me to keep going?"

His jaw ticked.

You could see it—he’s fighting it. Fighting you. Fighting himself.

So, naturally, you pushed further.

"I mean," you continued, voice lowering, "you have thought about it, haven’t you?" Your fingers ghosted along the hem of his sleeve, a barely-there touch. "Me," you murmured, eyes half-lidded. "This. Maybe you even messed up some important papers just because of me, hm?”

Kento tensed, but he didn't move. Didn’t push you away.

He didn’t have to answer. You already knew. His silence was the confession.

Your lips curled.

"God," you breathed, barely a whisper, "you’re so easy to wind up."

And that’s what did it.

Kento grabbed your wrist, firm and unforgiving, his grip almost bruising. His eyes blazed with something dark, something unrestrained, something dangerous.

Kento stood stiffly before you, every inch of him drawn tight with restraint. Even in the dim lighting, you could see the tension in his shoulders, the way his hands clenched at his sides as if he was afraid to move, afraid to touch. He had never done this before—never had a woman like you in front of him, looking at him like this, voice dripping with amusement as you offered to "help."

And yet, he was hard. Painfully so.

You tilted your head, watching him through lidded eyes, lazily dragging a manicured finger down the exposed skin of his forearm. He shuddered at the lightest touch. God, he really was a virgin.

“You’re tense,” you hummed, stepping closer. His breath stilled, his gaze flickering between your face and the small space left between your bodies. You reached for his hand, guiding it, placing it low on your waist. “Relax, Ken.”

He didn’t. His fingers twitched against the fabric of your dress, like he was unsure if he should even be touching you at all. His throat bobbed as he swallowed hard, jaw set so tight it looked like he might crack a tooth.

You smiled. He’s adorable.

“You’ve thought about this before, haven’t you?” Your voice was syrupy sweet, nails dragging lightly over his wrist. “Touching me like this. More than this.”

Kento didn’t answer. He was still as stone, breathing slow and deep, like he was forcing himself to remain calm. But you could see the war waging behind his dark eyes. He was already losing.

You pressed closer, letting your body brush against his. His fingers twitched again. “Don’t be shy,” you teased. “I won’t judge you.”

His voice was hoarse when he finally spoke. “You always judge me.”

You giggled. “Maybe.”

There was no hesitation when you reached for the buttons of his shirt, undoing them one by one. His chest rose and fell with each shallow breath, hands still hovering at your sides like he didn’t know where to put them.

And then, when his shirt was undone and you were sliding your palms over his bare skin, your voice dropped into a sultry murmur.

“Tell me,” you purred. “What have you imagined?”

His entire body locked up. “I—I don’t—”

You cut him off with a soft laugh, fingers skimming over his toned stomach. “Kento.” Your nails grazed his skin just enough to make him shiver. “I know you have.”

He was trapped, and you both know it. His ears were pink, his chest rising unevenly beneath your touch. You let the silence stretch between you, watching him squirm, before finally, he exhaled shakily and let his forehead drop forward, hovering just above your shoulder.

His voice was barely above a whisper. “I’ve thought about…” His breath was warm against your skin. “…your mouth.”

Satisfaction curled in your stomach. “Mmm. What about it?”

His fingers flexed at your waist, gripping you just a little tighter. His hesitation was delicious, his reluctance cracking under the weight of his own desire. You could feel how badly he wanted to keep holding back, to keep his dignity intact—but you weren't going to let him.

“Come on, Kento.” You pressed a slow, lingering kiss to the corner of his jaw, just to watch him shudder. “Tell me everything.”

His fingers twitched against your hips, restraint hanging by a thread. You watched his expression flicker—something torn, something desperate, something fighting to hold onto the last shred of resistance he has left.

“You’re dating Gojo.” His voice was raw, forced, like he was grasping for something to hold onto.

You blinked at him. Then, you rolled your eyes. “Oh, please.”

It’s dismissive. Effortless. Like the mention of your relationship was nothing more than an inconvenience, an irrelevant technicality that doesn’t belong in this moment. But you didn’t stop there.

Tilting your head, you regarded him with something akin to amusement, letting your fingers trace the sharp lines of his jaw. “Do you actually care,” you murmured, voice sweet, saccharine, deceptively soft, “or are you just looking for excuses?”

His breath hitched.

Because he didn’t care. Not really. You could see it in the way his hands trembled at your waist, in the way his grip tightened just enough to hold you there. And you took it as an invitation.

Your lips brushed against his ear, a ghost of a touch. “I can help you, you know.”

Kento stilled.

You shifted closer, pressing your body to his, feeling the sharp inhale he took at the contact. “Your first time,” you whispered, letting the words drip from your tongue like something decadent, something sinful. “I’ll make it good for you.”

He exhaled shakily.

“You don’t have to think,” you went on, fingers sliding down the buttons of his shirt, “just follow my lead.”

And that was when you felt it.

The last thread of his restraint finally, finally snapping.

His lips crashed against yours—clumsy, unpracticed, desperate. He was giving in, finally, finally giving in, and you relished in it. The way he trembled, the way his fingers dug into your waist like he was afraid you'd slip away, the way his breath stuttered when you pressed closer.

You took control instantly. One hand curled into his shirt, tugging him forward, while the other slid up to cup the back of his neck, guiding him. His kisses were messy, eager but unsure, all pent-up frustration and repressed want with no direction. You made a soft noise against his lips, and he groaned, shuddering at the sound.

“Slower,” you murmured against his mouth, dragging your lips along his, drawing it out. “Let me feel you.”

Kento obeyed, though you could tell it was an effort. He kissed you again, slower this time, more deliberate, but he was still stiff, still too restrained. His mind was racing—you could feel it in the way his hands hovered, uncertain, the way his jaw clenched like he was fighting himself.

He was thinking too much.

So you pressed closer, letting your body mold against his, and it wrecked him. You felt the sharp inhale he took, felt the shudder that rolled through him when your nails dragged up the nape of his neck, when your lips parted just enough to deepen the kiss.

Kento made a strangled noise, his hands finally moving—gripping your waist, sliding up your back, pulling you flush against him like he’d just realized he was allowed to touch you.

And fuck, you felt good.

His mind spiraled.

You were warm against him, soft and firm in all the right places, your perfume clouding his senses, your lips wet and pliant against his. Every tiny sigh you made, every little movement of your hips against his—it was intoxicating. His blood was rushing south, his entire body was burning, and he wanted.

He wanted more. He wanted to touch more, kiss more, feel more.

It was overwhelming. It was consuming.

And the worst part was you knew.

You knew exactly what you were doing to him, exactly how much he was unraveling under your touch. You pulled back just slightly, just enough to brush your lips against his in something too light, too teasing, and he actually chased your mouth, his body moving on instinct, desperate for more.

You hummed, pleased.

“See?” you murmured against his lips, fingers threading into his hair, tugging slightly. “You’re learning.”

He exhaled sharply, his grip on you tightening, his entire body drawn so tight it felt like he was going to snap.

Your fingers trailed down his chest, slow and deliberate, nails scraping lightly over the fabric of his shirt. Kento’s breath stuttered, and you felt the way his stomach clenched under your touch. His entire body was tense, every muscle drawn tight like a wire about to snap.

“Relax,” you murmured, your lips brushing against his jaw. “You’re so stiff.”

“I—” He swallowed hard when your fingers reached the waistband of his slacks, teasing along the edge. “I don’t—”

“You don’t what?” You tilted your head, peering up at him through thick lashes. “Don’t want this?”

His silence was telling.

So you pressed forward, slipping your hand just beneath his belt, teasing your fingertips along the skin right above his growing arousal. Kento’s breath shuddered, his hands tightening on your waist, his restraint evident in the way his fingers dug into your flesh.

He didn’t have a chance to respond before you pressed your lips to his again, effectively silencing whatever protest he was about to make. He groaned against your mouth when your fingers slipped lower, palming him through his slacks, feeling just how hard he was.

God, he was big.

You knew he was large from the way he strained against his pants, but feeling him like this? He was much bigger than Satoru. Your curiosity sparked to something much filthier, much more eager. You hummed in approval, your touch a little firmer, just to see how he reacted.

Kento choked on a moan, his grip on you tightening as his hips jerked into your hand.

“Sensitive,” you mused, your breath warm against his lips. Something about his reactions had your thighs clenching together, your breaths heavier. “You’ve been thinking about this a lot, haven’t you?”

He exhaled shakily, but didn’t answer.

So you pushed.

“Tell me,” you coaxed, fingers dragging along the outline of his length, teasing, taunting. “What have you imagined, Kento?”

His name on your lips made him groan, his head tilting back slightly, exposing the line of his throat. He was trying to keep it together, but you could feel him breaking, could feel his restraint slipping.

Your fingers tightened, just enough to make him gasp. “Come on,” you murmured, pressing a kiss to his jaw. “I know you’ve thought about it.”

His breath was ragged, his control slipping through his fingers like sand. And when you looked up at him, eyes dark and knowing, he knew he was already lost.

“…You,” he finally admitted, voice rough. “I’ve thought about you.”

A pleased little smile spread across your lips. “Yeah?”

You squeezed him again, dragging another groan from his throat, and his hands trembled against your waist.

“Did you think about me touching you like this?” You shifted, your fingers teasing just beneath his belt, tracing along the hard outline of him. “Or maybe…” You paused, eyes flicking up to meet his. “Did you think about me on my knees?”

His entire body went rigid.

Bingo.

Your smile turned wicked. “Oh,” you hummed, amused. “You did, didn’t you?”

His jaw clenched, his knuckles white where he gripped you, his entire body screaming restraint.

You took a slow, deliberate step back, just enough to sink gracefully to your knees in front of him. His breath caught, his golden eyes wide, disbelieving. You held his gaze as you reached for his belt, fingers working it loose, your movements slow, teasing.

“Lucky you, Kento.” Your voice was honeyed, sickly sweet. “I’m feeling generous tonight.”

And then, with an easy, practiced grace, you pulled him free from his slacks.

The breath left your lungs.

Fuck.

You knew he was big, but this? This was something else. Thick and heavy in your palm, flushed a deep shade of pink at the tip, already slick with arousal. It was so heavy it couldn't hold its own weight. Your throat ran dry, mesmerized. He twitched in your grasp when you exhaled softly against him, his hands fisting at his sides like he didn’t know what to do with them.

You glanced up at him, smirking at the way his chest rose and fell in uneven breaths. He looked wrecked already, and you hadn’t even touched him properly yet.

Slowly, deliberately, you dragged your tongue along the underside of his length, never breaking eye contact. Kento groaned, low and desperate, his head tipping back, his restraint crumbling with every passing second.

You hummed against him, satisfied.

“See?” you purred, lips brushing along his heated skin. “I told you I’d help.”

Your lips parted, tongue flicking at his tip just to see how he reacted. The response was immediate—Kento groaned low in his throat, his entire body shuddering as his fingers twitched at his sides. He was trying so hard to keep still, to restrain himself, but you could see it—the cracks in his composure, the way his golden brown eyes darkened as he watched you.

You smiled against him, wrapping your fingers around his thick base, giving him a slow, teasing stroke.

He hissed, his jaw tightening, the muscle in his neck twitching as his breath came out heavy.

“Fuck,” he muttered under his breath, barely audible.

You glanced up at him through your lashes, feigning innocence. “What’s wrong?”

His gaze dropped to where your fingers moved along his length, your touch painfully slow, and he swallowed hard.

“You,” he gritted out. “You’re—”

Whatever he was about to say was cut off by the sharp inhale he took when you flattened your tongue against him, tracing the thick vein that ran along the underside of his cock. His hips jerked, just a little, and you hummed in amusement, pressing a light, barely-there kiss to his swollen tip.

“Me?” you prodded, smirking. “What about me?”

His hands twitched at his sides, like he was debating on whether or not he should grab you, whether or not he should push you down and fuck your pretty mouth the way he’d dreamt of.

But he didn’t. Because even now, he was still fighting it, still trying to keep some semblance of control.

You intended to take that from him.

Lips parting, you took him into your mouth—slowly, deliberately, letting him feel every inch as you sank down onto him. His entire body tensed, a ragged groan slipping past his lips, and you swore you could feel his restraint snapping thread by thread.

You let your eyes flutter shut, savoring the weight of him on your tongue, the way his cock twitched when you took him deeper. He filled your mouth, stretched it to the point that you felt a dull ache. Your hands gripped his thighs, steadying yourself, and then you hollowed your cheeks and sucked.

The sound that ripped from his throat was utterly devastating.

His hands finally moved, flying to your hair, fingers tangling in the strands as his breath stuttered out of him.

A part of him was still in disbelief that this was happening. The sight of you on your knees before him, your mouth—the same one that was always twisted in a sneer as you spat insults at him—stuffed full of his fat cock. Your pretty face gazed up at him, doe eyes misty with tears from the stretch.

“Fuck,” he groaned, his voice hoarse, raw. “You—fuck.”

You smiled around him, satisfied. He was losing it, and you loved it.

You bobbed your head, taking him deeper, your tongue swirling along his length, tracing every ridge and vein. His grip tightened, his thighs trembling beneath your touch, and when you moaned softly around him, the vibrations sent him over the edge.

“Shit—” His voice broke, and his hips jerked forward, pushing deeper into your mouth. He was panting now, his restraint in shambles, and you could feel him teetering right on the edge of losing himself completely.

You pulled back slightly, letting his cock slip from your lips with a filthy pop, your hand replacing your mouth as you stroked him with slow, deliberate movements.

“Feels good, doesn’t it?” you murmured, your voice saccharine, teasing. “Bet you never imagined it would feel this good.”

Kento was glaring down at you, his brows furrowed, his expression dark and desperate all at once.

You tilted your head, feigning curiosity. “Or did you?”

His jaw clenched, his fingers tightening in your hair.

You smiled, leaning in to press a chaste, almost mocking kiss to his tip. “Tell me, Kento,” you whispered. “What did you imagine?”

He exhaled shakily, his entire body rigid, as if he was fighting a war within himself.

“Everything,” he admitted, voice strained. “I imagined everything.”

Oh.

You weren’t expecting him to break so easily, but fuck, the way he said it, the way his voice dripped with need—it made something dark and greedy curl in your stomach.

You hummed, pleased. “Well, then,” you purred, lips grazing his heated skin. “We’d better make those fantasies come true.”

Kento was unraveling.

His fingers tightened in your hair, a sharp contrast to the hesitance he had moments ago. Now, he was breathing hard, his body trembling, his restraint slipping through his fingers like sand. You could feel it—the way he was struggling to keep himself together, to keep from just thrusting into your mouth and fucking your throat the way he clearly wanted to.

But he was still holding back.

That wouldn’t do.

You slid your hands up his thighs, nails scraping lightly against his skin as you took him even deeper, letting him hit the back of your throat. His hips jerked forward, his breath shattering into a groan so raw and deep it made your thighs clench together.

“Fucking—” He bit down on the curse, his fingers tightening, his head tipping back as he let out a ragged exhale.

You moaned around him, letting the vibrations sink into his skin, watching through lidded eyes as his muscles tensed beneath your touch. The sounds he made were fucking intoxicating—low, guttural, completely unguarded. He was losing himself, and he didn’t even realize it.

But you did.

You pulled back slightly, dragging your tongue along his length, letting your lips trace every ridge and vein before you swirled your tongue over his tip. His thighs shook.

“Who would've known?” you purred, your voice honeyed, dripping with amusement. You stroked him slowly, deliberately, watching the way his stomach tensed with every movement. “That you'd been crushing on me for so long. Well, I don't really blame you.”

Kento didn’t answer. His jaw was clenched so tight you thought he might break a tooth.

You pressed a soft, teasing kiss to the head of his cock. “C’mon, Ken,” you coaxed, your tone saccharine, mockingly sweet. “Tell me what you thought about when you touched yourself that time in the office.”

His entire body went rigid.

Bullseye.

Kento’s breath was unsteady, his fingers twitching in your hair. You could see the shame flickering in his eyes, the way his lips parted, then closed, then parted again like he couldn’t decide whether to fight you or surrender.

You tilted your head, giving him a kiss on his flushed tip. “Want me to show you what else you’ve been missing?”

Kento felt like he was in a fever dream.

You were sprawled out beneath him, all soft limbs and wicked smirks, your hair splayed across the silk sheets, your body draped across the mattress like you belonged there—like you were made to be laid out just like this, waiting for him.

His breath was uneven, his mind an absolute fucking mess. He didn’t know where to touch, didn’t know where to start, didn’t know how to move, because this—this was what he’d wanted for so long, and now it was real, now you were right in front of him, skin warm, lips curled in that teasing, condescending smile, eyes watching him with the kind of amusement that made his stomach tighten.

You knew exactly what you were doing to him.

“You’re thinking too much,” you hummed, shifting slightly, letting your thighs fall open just enough to make his cock throb painfully against his stomach. “Relax, Kento. I don’t bite.” A pause. A smirk. “Unless you want me to.”

He swallowed hard.

Your fingers trailed down your stomach, skimming over your skin, dragging lower and lower before stopping at the hem of your lace panties. His eyes followed, helpless, and you smiled like you’d caught him in something.

“So,” you murmured, voice syrupy-sweet, filled with false innocence. “Tell me how you want your first time to be.”

Kento’s throat felt dry. His hands clenched into fists.

You tilted your head, watching him, waiting for him to answer—but he didn’t.

So you continued.

“You don’t know?” you teased, fingers toying with the waistband of your panties. “What, you’ve never thought about it?”

Kento clenched his jaw. He had. Of course he fucking had.

He’d thought about this so many times it was humiliating. He’d thought about you, spread out for him just like this, looking at him just like this, all heat and smugness and amusement. He’d thought about how you’d feel, how you’d sound, how you’d taste.

And now you were here, real, tangible, right in front of him.

He was so fucking hard it hurt.

You exhaled a quiet, amused laugh, reaching out to trail a single, lazy finger up the length of his cock, watching the way his muscles tensed, the way his thighs twitched.

“Hmm.” Your voice dropped, turning sly, knowing. “Personally…” You paused, running your tongue over your lower lip. “I like it rough and filthy.”

Kento’s stomach twisted.

You smiled sweetly. “I’m also on the pill, so you can cum inside.”

Something inside of him snapped.

His fingers dug into the sheets beside you, his breath leaving him in a sharp exhale.

You watched him closely, tilting your head, and then, slowly, deliberately, you dragged your nails down your stomach, just barely skimming over the lace covering your core.

“Think you can handle that, Ken?” you murmured.

Kento moved before he could think.

One second, you were smirking up at him, and the next, he was on you—gripping your thighs, spreading them wider, shoving himself between them like he’d finally snapped. His breathing was uneven, his hands gripping hard enough to bruise, his whole body strung so fucking tight he thought he might lose it.

You hummed, pleased, dragging a lazy hand up his beefy forearm. “Mmm. That’s better.”

Your voice was light, teasing, so fucking condescending it made something dark pulse through him. You were testing him. You’d been testing him all night, and he fucking knew it.

Kento glared down at you, jaw tight, fingers flexing against your skin. “Stop talking.”

You laughed. “Make me.”

His grip tightened. His pulse thrummed heavy in his ears.

And then you did it again—dragging your nails over your stomach, teasing yourself, testing just how far you could push him. “Come on, Ken,” you whispered, voice sweet, sickly. “You’re not scared, are you?”

Kento exhaled sharply through his nose. His restraint was crumbling.

You saw it. You knew it. You fucking reveled in it.

“You’ve been thinking about this for so long, haven't you?” you murmured, slow, sultry, voice dipping into something softer, something filthier. “Imagining it—thinking about me, touching yourself to the thought of me.” Your fingers hooked into your panties, dragging the lace down your thighs, baring yourself to him. “You wanted to fuck me, didn’t you?”

Kento’s head spun.

You shifted, thighs framing his hips, hands slipping up his chest, nails dragging over the crisp fabric of his shirt. “Don’t you, Ken?” you whispered, lips barely brushing his jaw.

His hands snapped up, gripping your wrists, pinning them down against the sheets.

You gasped softly, brows raising in amusement, lips curling into something slow and knowing.

And then, you smiled.

“Good,” you purred.

Kento didn’t know when he stopped thinking. Didn’t know when the last shred of rationality slipped from his mind. All he knew was the way you were looking at him, the way you were laying beneath him like you belonged there, the way your lips parted when he gripped your wrists tighter, the way your body fit against his so fucking perfectly.

He’d never done this before. He had no fucking idea what he was doing.

But you were guiding him, dragging his hands where you wanted them, pressing your body up into his, rolling your hips until he groaned through gritted teeth.

“There you go,” you hummed, satisfied, like you were molding him into something better, like you were teaching him how to touch you, how to take you apart.

Kento exhaled heavily, his head dropping forward, his body pressing down over yours.

“Good boy,” you murmured.

Kento felt like he was drowning. Like he was lost in something vast and consuming, his own restraint slipping through his fingers with every breath, every quiet, pleased sound you made.

His fingers were still slick with you when you guided them back down, pressing them against your entrance, urging him to go deeper.

“Start slow,” you murmured, voice honey-thick, teasing but patient as you tilted your hips invitingly. “One finger first.”

Kento obeyed before he even realized it, pushing in, feeling the way you stretched around him, the molten heat of you sucking him in. His breath caught when he sank down to the knuckle, your walls fluttering, clenching softly around him.

You exhaled, a low, satisfied sound escaping your lips. “Good,” you praised. “Move it a little. Feel me.”

Kento swallowed hard, his Adam’s apple bobbing. His free hand tightened in the sheets as he curled his finger, pressing experimentally against the soft, warm ridges inside you.

You let out a sharp inhale, a quiet curse slipping past your lips. Your reaction made something coil in his gut, made something snap inside him.

The hesitance in his movements melted away. His finger worked deeper, pressing more deliberately, slipping out and pushing back in, feeling how you pulsed and tightened around him. His breath was unsteady, his pulse thrummed.

You hummed in approval. “Another.”

He didn’t hesitate this time, sliding a second finger in alongside the first. The stretch made your brows twitch, your thighs flexing instinctively, and the sight of it, the feeling of it—how soft and warm and tight you were around him—made his cock ache so violently he was lightheaded.

His fingers pumped slowly at first, measured and careful, scissoring slightly as he watched your face, the way your lashes fluttered, the way your lips parted slightly with every thrust.

“Mm,” you breathed, voice molten and pleased, “you learn quick.”

He shuddered, the praise shooting straight through him, his fingers picking up speed, pressing deeper, curling with more purpose.

Your breath hitched. Your thighs flexed tighter. “Right there,” you murmured, voice barely above a sigh. “Do that again.”

Kento obeyed instantly, pressing against that same spot inside you, again and again, watching the way your brows drew together, the way your lips parted slightly as you let out a shaky breath.

Something thick and hot pulsed in his veins. Something heady and intoxicating. He wanted to hear more of those sounds. He wanted to push you higher, wanted to see you come apart completely beneath him.

And so he leaned in.

You barely registered the shift in weight before his mouth was on you.

Your breath caught as you felt his lips ghost over the inside of your thigh, hesitant at first, almost reverent. But then he was pressing open-mouthed kisses to your skin, trailing closer, closer—his breath hot and unsteady, his fingers still pumping steadily inside you.

You smirked, threading your fingers through his blonde hair. “That eager?”

Kento exhaled sharply against your skin, but didn’t answer. He just dragged his tongue over the inside of your thigh, tasting, teasing.

And then he buried his face between your legs.

A gasp spilled from your lips before you could stop it, your grip tightening in his hair as his mouth sealed over your clit. The heat of his tongue, the slow, deliberate pressure—it made your thighs twitch, made your chest rise sharply.

You heard him groan, the sound vibrating against you, and then his fingers were pressing deeper, his tongue flicking, circling, teasing before dragging broad, heavy strokes over your clit.

You sighed, breathy and pleased, a slow, satisfied smirk curling at your lips. “Oh, Ken…”

Kento groaned again at the sound of his name from your lips, his fingers working faster, his mouth latching on tighter, sucking gently before rolling his tongue against you.

Your back arched slightly, a breathy laugh escaping you. “So desperate to please.”

His fingers flexed against your thigh in response, but he didn’t stop. He didn’t slow.

He was drowning in you—your scent, your taste, the way you moved against him, the way your fingers tightened in his hair, keeping him exactly where you wanted him.

Kento didn’t stop. He didn’t slow. If anything, your teasing only fueled him, made him more desperate, more reckless, his tongue and fingers working in tandem to pull you apart, to drag you deeper into pleasure. He was drunk on the way you sounded, the way you tasted, the way your body reacted under his touch—

And then he felt it.

The way you started to tremble, the sharp hitch of your breath, the telltale tightening of your thighs around his head. You were close. So fucking close.

And Kento wanted it—wanted to see you break, to feel you come undone on his tongue, to be the one to make you unravel.

So he pushed deeper, his fingers curling inside you just right, his tongue pressing against your clit, working you over with focused, deliberate pressure, until—

“Ah—fuck—”

Your thighs clamped tight around his head, your fingers tugging hard at his hair as pleasure crashed over you, racking through your body in shuddering waves.

Kento groaned against you, drinking in the way you pulsed around his fingers, the way you gasped and whimpered, lost in pleasure—because of him.

It made something inside him snap.

He was rock-hard, painfully so, his cock straining against his stomach, leaking against his skin, aching for relief. The way you sounded, the way you felt, the way you were sprawled beneath him, coming apart because of him—it was too much.

His self-control was gone.

He was moving before he could think, shoving his pants down, gripping himself at the base, so fucking desperate to be inside you, to feel you around him—and then he pressed in, the heat of you swallowing him up, squeezing him tight, so fucking tight—

And he came.

A choked sound ripped from his throat, his body seizing up, his hips jerking forward as a sweltering warmth flooded your insides in thick, pulsing waves.

For a moment, there was nothing but silence.

“…Are you serious?”

Your voice was breathless, but unmistakably amused, and when Kento’s vision cleared, his gaze snapped to your face—your flushed cheeks, your lips parted from exertion, your lashes fluttering as you blink up at him, dazed, wrecked—and smirking.

You laughed, soft and breathy, eyes flicking down between your bodies, to where he was still buried hilt-deep inside you. "Oh my god, you actually—"

Your teasing gets cut off with a startled gasp because suddenly, Kento moved.

He pulled out in one swift motion, so fast and sudden it makes you clench around nothing, makes your thighs twitch—

Then he slammed back in, hard enough to knock the air out of your lungs.

"Shit—"

Your head jerked back against the pillow, eyes going wide, legs kicking, but Kento didn't stop. He didn’t fucking pause. His teeth were gritted, his jaw tight, and his grip on you was punishing as he set a brutal pace—harsh, deep thrusts, fucking into you so hard the bed creaked beneath you, the headboard knocking against the wall.

You whimpered, the sound punched out of you with every sharp snap of his hips, hands scrambling against his chest, nails dragging down the firm planes of muscle, but he didn’t let up, didn't let you catch your breath, didn't let you think.

“Still wanna run your fucking mouth?" Kento gritted out, voice low, rough. "Huh?"

You barely managed a gasp before he was folding you up, pressing your knees to your chest, pinning you beneath his weight, deeper, rougher, fucking into you like he wanted to fuck the words right out of your throat.

You couldn’t think, couldn’t do anything but take it, your body wracked with pleasure so overwhelming it was almost painful, your walls clamping around him, gripping him tight as he ruined you, absolutely wrecked you.

He was not just fucking you anymore—he was breaking you in.

Kento was barely thinking anymore—at least, not with the rational part of his brain. The only thing driving him now was need, months—years—of pent-up frustration, of resentment and desire twisted together into something vicious, something ugly. His mind was flooded with it, clouded with the feeling of your body wrapping tight around his cock, the obscene, wet sounds filling the room as he fucked into you with reckless abandon, jackhammering his hips against yours like he was trying to fuck the attitude right out of you.

He should be embarrassed about how quickly he came, but he wasn’t. Not when he could feel you fluttering around him, sucking him in deeper, struggling to take all of him. Not when he was finally getting to shut you up, to replace that smirk, those biting remarks, with helpless gasps and broken moans of his name.

Kento.

It spilled from your lips again, a breathless, trembling whimper, and fuck—he felt his control fraying at the seams.

He looked down at you, and the sight nearly undid him.

Your face was a mess—lips swollen and parted, your eyes hazy and unfocused, a sheen of sweat making your skin glow under the dim lighting. Your nails dug into his back, clinging to him for dear life, your legs trembling around his waist. He watched as you tried to say something, but the words broke apart on your tongue, nothing but a breathy, high-pitched whimper that had him grinding his teeth, his fingers tightening on your thighs.

He never imagined you like this. Not once. Not even in his filthiest, most shameful fantasies did he ever picture you looking so wrecked beneath him, blinking up at him like you didn’t even recognize yourself anymore.

And it made him want to ruin you more.

His thrusts grew brutal, his hips slamming into you with obscene force, the slick slap of skin against skin mixing with the lewd squelch of your dripping cunt sucking him in, swallowing him down. You drooled onto the pillow, your mouth hanging open, tiny, punched-out cries leaving your throat in rhythm with each thrust.

You looked so fucking good like this, so pretty when you were breaking for him, and Kento wanted to watch you shatter.

So he leaned down.

Your eyes widened slightly as his face hovered inches from yours, his breath fanning over your lips, hot and uneven. You were still gasping, still trying to catch your breath, but he didn’t let you.

He kissed you.

It was rough, messy, all teeth and desperation. His lips crashed into yours like he was trying to devour you, his tongue prying your mouth open, swallowing your moans as he drove himself deeper, angling his hips just right until—

“Oh—fuck—”

You broke, your whole body tensing beneath him, your nails raking down his back as pleasure overtook you, as you spasmed around him, clenching so tight he nearly collapsed on top of you.

Kento groaned into your mouth, his body shuddering at the way you squeezed him, at the feeling of you pulsing around his cock, milking him for all he’s worth. He was close—so fucking close—but he didn’t want to stop, didn’t want this to end, didn’t want to let go of the first real thing he'd ever had with you.

But the way you were looking at him—so dazed, so lost, your lashes fluttering, your lips swollen and wet from his kisses—

It wrecked him.

Your body felt like it was melting into the sheets, limbs loose, brain completely scrambled. You were still gasping, still twitching beneath him, your skin dampened with sweat, your insides throbbing from the absolute wreckage Kento just put you through.

This wasn’t supposed to happen.

It was supposed to be a favor—a pity fuck, a little experience for the poor, virginal nerd who’d spent years watching you from the sidelines, burning himself up with want. He was cute—a hidden gem, if you will—so you entertained the thought. You thought you’d guide him, make it easy, maybe get a few orgasms out of it before sending him on his way, satisfied and broken in.

You didn’t expect this.

Didn’t expect him to be so big, to stretch you open like he was trying to mold your body to fit him. Didn’t expect him to lose himself so completely, to fuck you like he had something to prove, like he needed to ruin you, to make sure you’d never forget this—never forget him.

And fuck, you won’t.

Your chest heaved as you tried to gather your thoughts, but it was impossible. You could barely move, barely think past the pleasure still echoing in your bones, still buzzing under your skin.

The way he fucked you—relentless, brutal, all-consuming—it was nothing like you expected. He wasn’t supposed to take control like that, wasn’t supposed to wreck you, to turn you into this.

A fucked-out, boneless mess.

Your eyes were glazed, unfocused, and when Kento finally lifted his head to look at you, something dark flickered through his gaze at the sight of you so thoroughly ruined beneath him.

Kento didn’t stop. He couldn’t. He should—he should slow down, let you breathe, let you recover, but he won’t. Not when you were beneath him like this, spread out and ruined, body twitching, legs trembling, lips parted around nothing but useless little sounds. You were supposed to be the one in control, supposed to be the one leading him through this, teasing him, walking him through it like he was some pathetic, fumbling virgin who needed guidance. But look at you now—your back arched like a needy slut, your nails biting into his arms, into the sheets, into anything you could grab because you were completely fucking gone, letting him use you exactly how he wanted.

This wasn’t what you expected, was it? Kento could see it all over your face—how you were struggling to keep up, how you were trying so hard to process what was happening, how the realization was hitting you in waves. You thought you were just giving him a pity fuck, thought you were going to have your fun with the nerd who’d been pining after you for years, play around with him a little before sending him on his way, maybe even give yourself a nice ego boost knowing you took his virginity. But that's not what was happening at all, was it? No, you were the one getting wrecked. You were the one with your eyes rolling back, your breath catching in these shallow, uneven gasps, your body so overstimulated that even the drag of his cock pulling out left you shuddering. You didn’t expect this. You weren’t prepared for how fucking big he was, how deep he reached, how utterly ruthless he’d be once he had you where he wanted you. You thought you were in control, but that illusion shattered the second he bottomed out inside you, the second he realized that despite all your teasing, despite all your cruel little jabs at him—you were fucking made for him.

He watched you try to say something, try to form words around the desperate little moans spilling from your mouth, but you couldn’t even think straight. You—who never shut the fuck up, who always had something to say, some taunt, some sly remark—couldn’t even speak. And it fucking ruined him. His grip tightened on your hips, his thrusts turned brutal, unforgiving, his jaw clenched so tightly it ached. He knew he was being rough, knew he was fucking you stupid, knew that this was the best sex you’ve ever had because there was no fucking way anyone—especially not that smug, arrogant, useless boyfriend of yours—had ever fucked you like this.

“You wanted this, didn’t you?” His voice was rough, nearly unrecognizable, thick with pleasure and something meaner, something darker. His fingers curled under your jaw, forcing your vacant, fucked-out eyes to meet his. “Wanted me to shut you up?” His thrusts slowed just enough to make you feel the full weight of his cock inside you, make you twitch, make your lashes flutter as your mouth parted in a breathless little gasp. He wanted to hear you say it, wanted to hear you admit it, but all you could do was give him a weak little nod, head barely moving, body too boneless, too spent, too overwhelmed to function properly.

Pathetic.

Kento grinned, something dangerous and satisfied flickering in his eyes as he watched you try and fail to pull yourself together. “What’s wrong?” His voice was low, taunting, every syllable dripping with condescension as he forced your mouth open wider with his thumb. “Where’s that smart mouth now? Hm? Thought you had so much to say.” He pulled back until just the fat tip of his cock was stretching your entrance, then slammed back in with enough force to knock the air from your lungs, pressing in deep until he swore he could feel your heartbeat around him. “You were so fucking cocky, weren’t you?” He fucked into you harder, the wet slap of skin on skin echoing in the room, his fingers digging into your thighs to hold you in place as he pounded into your dripping cunt. “Thought I’d be the one embarrassed? Thought I’d be the one who didn’t know what the fuck he was doing?” A ragged breath ripped from his throat, and his pace got even filthier, rougher, harder, fucking you into the mattress like he was trying to break you. “Look at you now.”

You tried to—tried to focus on him, tried to answer, tried to do anything other than moan like a brainless little fuckdoll beneath him, but you couldn’t. Your entire body was burning, every nerve-ending fried, every thought in your head erased and rewritten with nothing but him, him, him. The stretch was too much, the way he kept pressing in so fucking deep, the way he was angled just right to hit that gummy spot inside you that had your legs kicking weakly against his sides. You had never felt anything like this before, never been fucked like this before, never been absolutely ruined like this before. You’d expected him to be hesitant, careful, nervous, but instead, he was unraveling you piece by piece, fucking you like he owned you, like he’d been waiting for this moment for years—because he had.

Kento could feel it, the way your walls clamped down around him, the way your body was trying to fight against the intensity, trying to process what was happening to you, and it only made him want to fuck you harder. “Nothing to say now?” he murmured, leaning in closer, voice dropping into something cruel and condescending as he watched your face twist with pleasure. “Not even another one of your little insults?” He knew you couldn’t answer, knew you were too far gone, but that only made it better, only made his grip tighten, only made his thrusts grow more erratic. “Or did I finally fuck you dumb?”

You whimpered—an utterly helpless little sound that shot straight to his cock, making his vision blur at the edges. He was getting close, his pace getting sloppy, but he wanted to drag this out, wanted to make you come undone again, wanted to see how far he could push you before you completely broke. He reached down, rubbed his thumb against your clit, and the reaction was immediate—the sharp arch of your back, the sharp inhale, the way your nails scraped uselessly against his skin. “That’s it,” he murmured, voice dripping with satisfaction as he watched you fall apart for him. “That’s a good girl.”

And then you shattered.

Your entire body tensed, then broke, falling into pure, mindless pleasure as you came hard, clenching around him, gripping him so tight it nearly made him dizzy. And that was it—that was all it took to finally push him over the edge. His hips stuttered, a guttural groan tearing from his chest as he buried himself as deep as he could, grinding against you as he spilled inside, filling you up with every last drop.

He collapsed forward, panting, breath warm against your skin as he listened to the aftermath—the slick, filthy sounds of him still buried inside you, the faint hitch in your breath, the soft, dazed little moans that escaped your lips, completely spent, completely wrecked.

You were never supposed to be the one getting ruined tonight.

But now?

Now, you couldn’t even move, couldn’t even think, couldn’t even do anything but lay there, utterly fucked out, body trembling as Kento finally, finally stopped. And as he looked down at you, as he watched you struggle to even keep your eyes open, a slow, satisfied smirk tugged at his lips.

“Not so mouthy now, are you?”

The routine was set. The tension between you and Kento was thick, palpable, and undeniably electric. And you fucking hated it. You hated that no matter how much you tried to push him away, you always found yourself crawling back. You hated that the mere thought of him, his hands on you, his cock inside you, had become the only thing that filled your thoughts in the dark. It made you feel crazy—ravenous and furious at yourself for giving in.

But you couldn’t stop.

You’d convinced yourself that it’s all just a game. A twisted, secret affair—nothing more than a few moments of indulgence, a little bit of fun on the side. Satoru still thought he was the center of your world, and he had no idea what you were doing with Kento.

But Kento knew. And God, you knew he did. The smirk he had when he caught you sneaking glances, the way he whispered your name under his breath when you were both sitting so close, and the way his fingers seemed to always find their way under your clothes like he had a built-in radar for your desires—it was maddening.

You hated how well he knew you. How well he understood exactly what made you break.

And yet, you couldn’t stop. You couldn’t stop because you knew that no one else could fuck you like he could. No one else gets it, gets you the way Kento did.

The first time you sneaked a hand under his desk during a publication meeting, it was to get back at him. To prove that you’re not some docile little toy he could use and abuse at will. You just wanted to see him lose control for once. You wanted him to feel the desperation that’s been building in your chest ever since you first tasted his mouth, ever since you felt his hands stretch you open in ways that made you lose track of time.

But as soon as your fingers brushed against the hard bulge in his pants, you knew you were in for a lot more than you bargained for. Kento’s eyes flickered to you, just for a second, his gaze cold and calculating. There was no question in your mind that he knew what you were doing.

He shifted in his seat, and you could feel his body tense under your touch. It was enough to send a shiver down your spine. He let you play with him for a moment, let you slide your fingers beneath the waistband of his slacks, your palm curling around his cock, feeling the weight of it, the heat of it under your fingertips.

You were taunting him now, trying to make him crack. You dragged your thumb over the head of his cock, circling it with slow, teasing motions, your eyes watching his every reaction as he tried to keep his composure.

His grip on the edge of the desk tightened, his jaw set in that tight, controlled way you knew meant he’s fighting every instinct to flip you over and fuck you right then and there. But that’s the point. You wanted him to snap. You wanted him to lose it.

And when you finally slid your fingers down, giving him a full, slow stroke, his hand shot out and gripped your wrist, his knuckles going white.

“You really want to push me, don’t you?” he muttered, voice low and dangerous.

You grinned back, defiant, that familiar fire sparking in your chest. “What, are you scared of a little tease?”

That’s all it took for him to stop holding back. His hand was suddenly in your hair, and then, in one smooth, brutal motion, he forced your head between his legs. You barely had time to react, but you didn’t need to.

You had been waiting for this moment. Waiting for him to finally take control and fuck the smug attitude out of you.

Kento pulled your hair, forcing you to look up at him as your lips brushed against the bulge in his pants. Your mouth watered, knowing what was coming, but you were not prepared for the raw intensity of it.

The second you slipped his cock out, Kento groaned deeply, the sound vibrating through your chest. You started slowly, letting him guide you, your lips wrapping around him just like he had taught you, just like you’ve been imagining every time you looked at him.

But Kento didn’t wait. Not anymore.

He slammed his hips forward, his cock thrusting deep into your throat in one brutal motion. You gagged, the suddenness of it almost making you choke, but he didn’t give you the chance to recover. He covered up the sound with a cough, his free hand typing particularly hard on his laptop, the other members in the office none the wiser. His other hand was in your hair, pulling you deeper, faster, forcing you to take all of him, every inch of his cock buried in your throat, your nose pressed against his groin, mingling with the neatly trimmed thatch of hair, allowing you to inhale that cool musky and manly smell—something you'd come to associate with Kento.

The meeting droned on, completely unaware of the filthy exchange happening just inches away. Kento’s grip on your hair tightened, encouraging you to take him deeper, harder. You sucked him greedily, desperate to please him, to feel him fill your mouth completely. Every time you pulled back, he was there, following you, urging you to take more of him.

You could feel the weight of his stare, his eyes trained on you even as his fingers tugged at your hair, guiding you with a possessive hand. Your movements became more frantic, desperate for release, while his hand squeezed your scalp, forcing you to take him deeper. The pressure built inside you, the sounds of your sucking mingling with the hum of conversation from across the table, but none of it mattered. All that mattered is the way he made you feel—how he owned you in this moment, in front of everyone.

Finally, with a soft grunt, Kento pulled back, and you barely had time to breathe before he gave you a look, a silent command. You glanced up at him, a mess of spit and precum coating your lips, and he gave you a quick, almost dismissive nod. He knew you’d done your job, and he was done with it.

With a cold smile, Kento straightened his shirt, glancing around the room. “I’ll be back in a few minutes,” he muttered, before making his way out of the meeting.

You sat there for a moment, catching your breath, trying to make yourself presentable again. You could feel the wetness between your legs, the evidence of your earlier actions making itself known. As soon as the door clicked shut behind him, you followed, knowing exactly where he was headed.

The bathroom was nearly empty, save for a couple of people washing their hands, but Kento was already there, waiting by the sink. His eyes met yours, and the hunger in them was unmistakable. No words were needed; this was a routine you had fallen into, a dynamic neither of you tried to hide anymore.

“Need to freshen up?” he asked, voice low and thick with desire, his hands already reaching for your waist.

You didn’t answer. You didn’t need to. Instead, you stepped toward him, your hands slipping under his shirt, pulling him closer as you kissed him fiercely. His lips were demanding, hot, and your body reacted instantly, an undeniable pull that had you craving more. His hands dropped to your skirt, tugging it up roughly as he pushed you toward the wall.

“You really think I’m going to let you walk out of here all clean?” Kento growled, his fingers unbuckling his belt.

You could barely catch your breath as he pulled you in, his chest pressing against yours, his lips never leaving your skin. The anticipation was unbearable—this quick, dangerous rendezvous in a bathroom that no one should know about. You shouldn’t even be doing this. You had a fucking date with Satoru in fifteen minutes. But you were already soaking through your panties, feeling the heat of him against your body, your skin tingling with need.

Without warning, Kento hoisted you up, your back against the cold tiles as his hands went to work. The roughness, the desperation, the control—he didn’t give you a second to think, just pressed forward, pushing himself into you with a brutal force. His cock filled you in one swift motion, stretching you more than you thought possible. You gasped, your nails digging into his shoulders, unable to stop the overwhelming sensation of him filling you completely.

“You think you can go back to Gojo like this?” Kento spat, his voice low and rough. “Full of my cum, still dripping with me?”

You could barely respond, the sensation of him pounding into you relentlessly clouding your mind, but his words hit you hard, a surge of shame and lust all at once. You were already so far gone, too far gone to care. It was just you and him now, and that’s all that mattered.

His rhythm picked up, faster, harder, each thrust making you see stars. The stall felt too small, the walls closing in as he took you with an unforgiving pace. The sound of his skin slapping against yours echoed in the quiet space, mixing with the wetness between your legs. He leaned in, kissing you, smearing your expensive gloss, tasting you, taking you. Your body betrayed you, pleasure spiraling out of control as Kento fucked you senseless.

He didn’t stop, didn’t slow down, his cock fucking you into the wall, his hands gripping your hips as if you were nothing but his to take. You didn’t care. You didn’t want to care. The need, the want, it was all-consuming. And when he came—deep inside you, hot and thick—you couldn’t stop yourself from letting out a whimper.

When he pulled out, a mix of his cum and your juices leaked down your inner thighs, the wetness sticky and undeniable. Kento looked down, admiring the mess he had left behind, before leaning down to kiss you hard.

“I’ll see you after your date,” he murmured against your lips, his hand brushing the back of your neck as he pulled away.

You were left breathless, dazed, feeling the aftermath of it all, knowing that you’ll never be able to go back to Satoru the same way again. Not after this. Not after Kento has wrecked you in the most public, filthy way imaginable.

You pulled your skirt down, straightening yourself out as best as you can, your legs trembling. You could feel his sticky cum staining your panties, coating your inner thighs. “I’m going to be late,” you whined, voice thick with the remnants of pleasure and annoyance, but Kento just glanced at you as he smoothened his shirt. As you tried to make yourself presentable, he stepped towards you with one stride, pressing against you from behind, leaning down to press a kiss to the side of your neck. His big, firm hands fixed your skirt, before they wandered low to squeeze the fat of your ass.

“Good. Let him wonder where you’ve been.”

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mommynott · 30 days ago

Text

Stroke of Midnight

12 Days of Dickmas - Theodore Nott x Reader

Summary: Theo and Mattheo help you get over your fear of heights in very fun ways 👀🎁

Warnings: 18+, MDNI, SMUT, chars 18+, modern au, dom!theo, dom!mattheo, threesome, new years hook up, DP, spitroast, rough sex, anal, creampies, PIV, semi public sex, pussy eating, throat fucking, choking, spitting, nipple play, degrading, dirty talk, dom&sub, mattheodore ruining us👀

All morning the two guys who you had come to know as Theo and Mattheo, constantly flirted with you in the small ski lodge cafe where you worked. You found it cute. Endearing. The way they practically fought over on who could out flirt you.

Not expecting to see them again, especially so close to the cafe closing time. It was New Year’s Eve and not like you had plans or anything but you wanted to be home in your bed. That’s when two sets of snowy legs wandered in.

You were met with the two attractive males from earlier and laughed as you shook your head. “Can I help you two?” You asked them in a teasing tone. They both glanced at each other with smirks before facing your gaze.

“Well, you’re closing up right?” Mattheo asked lowly, stalking toward you as he ran a hand through his fluffy curls, Theodore’s smirk only growing wider. “Yeah- why?” Confusion plastered over you.

But Theodore and Mattheo had other plans in mind. “Come to the peak with us…” Theo’s accent rolled off his tongue, making you shudder while he took a step toward you. “Oh…I uh…I can’t-“

How do I even explain this without looking like a total wimp? Fuck. “Why not?” Matt cocked an eyebrow to you, the both of them crossing their toned arms over their chests. “Well….”

You began, the lights slowly shutting off in the cafe as you sighed. Your gaze flickered back and forth between the two men. “I’m terrified of heights- okay? Ski lifts and whatever are not my thing.”

Explaining yourself, Theodore gave you a sympathetic look but Mattheo continued to smirk, clicking his tongue against his cheek. “Come on pretty girl…You have us…” the curly-haired one started and your heart raced.

“Yeah…We’ll take real good care of you, Tesoro…” The Italian said lowly and you swore your heart would be bursting from your chest. Your face flushing up from the two attractive guys. How could I say no?

“I….I don’t know…I guess?” Almost questioning if this was even the right decision, the boys smiled from ear to ear as they started to walk out and you followed. “Don’t worry, Bella— we can take the gondola…It’s enclosed so you’ll feel safer”

Theodore seemed sweet, kind, and thoughtful. Your already cherried face turned even more red as you grabbed your coat and headed into the snowy night with them.

Next in line for the gondola were the three of you. Half an hour until midnight. You shivered a bit and felt the anxiety rise. “Ah— come on now doll, nothing to be nervous about. You have us!” Matt exclaimed, causing Theo to chuckle.

“Mattheo can be an idiot— regardless we’ll be with you. Seems like we’ll be ringing in the new year together-“

New years. With strangers. Hot strangers. Not too bad. You just nodded your head. The coldness getting to you but Theodore threw an arm around you, pulling you close. “Cold, Cara Mia?”

Nodding your head, your nose felt numb, reddened from the brisk air. “Just a little…” The cloud of your breath in the air had you shudder but then the bars opened and all three of you waltzed into the gondola.

At first, you sat across from the two of them. Anxiously fidgeting with the rings on your fingers as you glanced from each window. “Relax…Breath…It’ll be okay” Mattheo reassured with a chuckle.

“Are you sure?” You questioned the both of them softly as Theo hit you with yet another sympathetic gaze before quickly plopping next to you. Giving Mattheo a challenging grin. Throwing his arm around you. “Very sure—“

The Italians strong arm wrapped around you helped the nerves you felt as the gondola started to rise. The metal whirred as you ascended up the mountain. However, you stayed quiet.

Ten minutes or so had passed of silence and Theo and Mattheo messing with each other. But you were in your own head. Suddenly you heard a loud screech, the gondola coming to a halt.

“W-what’s happening?!”

Practically shouting your words, panic started to form inside of you. Your vision getting blurry and Mattheo instantly stood up to come sit on the other side of you. “I’m not sure…” He mumbled to himself as Theo tried to look down below.

That’s when an alarm went off on the speakers before a voice spoke through. “Due to maintenance, we have come to a quick stop! Don’t worry we will be back up and running shortly. We apologize for the inconvenience.”

Fuck. Me. Just my luck huh? You must’ve looked pretty shaken up because now Matt’s arm was also around you and it was taking everything in you to not break down in tears.

“Hey- hey- hey! It’ll be okay— hey! Look at me!” Theodore grabbed your chin, forcing your gaze to meet his. Those inviting ocean eyes. “S-sorry…I’m just….Scared” You admitted quietly, feeling Mattheo’s fingers dance through your lush locks soothingly.

“I know…But it’ll be alright…We just need a distraction!” Mattheo chuckled but your eyes remained glued to Theo’s. You noticed him glance at your lips and your heart flipped.

He seemed to inch closer and closer, your breath getting hitched in your throat. “You’re right, riddle…And I think I know just the thing-“ Before you could even process everything, Theo slammed his lips to yours.

You didn’t even try to fight it, he tasted fucking amazing and he was right- this was a distraction. Hearing Mattheo scoff, he gripped your hair tightly, his free hand going to your thigh.

The kiss between you and Theo only deepened, Mattheo grazing his lips across the side of your neck ever so softly, causing a soft moan to whimper from you. But you didn’t stop it. Not in the least.

“If I wasn’t mistaken…”

Mattheo’s voice was low and raspy against your flesh as he teasingly bit along it, surely leaving little love marks as he went on.

“…You’re fucking loving this…You wanna take us both, Angel?”

He muttered against your collarbone, Theo groaning into the kiss as your hand went down to his pants. Feeling the throbbing boner in between his snow pants.

Mattheo growled, opening up your jacket and kneeling between your legs. Slowly working your own pants and panties off. “Fuckin hell Nott- She has one pretty fucking pussy…”

The vulgarity of his words caused you to whimper between the steamy make out of you and Theodore. The Italian chuckled at Matt’s response as one hand went to your shirt, tugging it down along with your bra to scoop up a breast of yours.

All of the sensations surely were making you forget about your fear of heights. Lost in the bliss of both of the men. Suddenly, a gasp emitted from your throat as Mattheo buried himself between your thighs.

“Feels good does it, Tesoro?”

Theodore asked, purring teasingly against your swollen lips, your foreheads now touching as your submissive gaze flickered between his own. “—Mhhhhmmm…” You managed to mumble out while Mattheo’s tongue worked in indescribable circles along your clit.

With a swift movement, Theo stole a quick peck from you before standing up and wiggling down his pants. Grabbing a fistful of your silky locks. “Good girl- now choke on my cock—“

With a growl, you barely parted your lips as he shoved his massive length down your throat. Slamming his hips against your face while he throat fucked you— Mattheo’s tongue flicking and licking as fast as he could.

Tears pricked your eyes as you fought to keep your glossed-over gaze up on the Italian- a smirk painting over his chiseled face. “You’re close aren’t you?”

You knew your muffled moans vibrating along his dick was probably giving it away and you nodded your head through his plunges in your mouth. “No— Riddle stop,” Theo demanded and Matt shot up, your juices dripping off of his chin.

“The first time I want her to cum…”

Theo shifted over next to Mattheo as he stood up and wiped his mouth. Smirking to each other, Matt moved over to where Theo stood before.

“…I want it to soak my cock—“ Theodore growled, his ocean eyes darkening into a sea of black. With a swift movement, he positioned himself between your legs, teasing his sensitive tip along your leaky slit.

“Y-yes…Fuck—“ Stuttering to yourself, your eyes dashed between the two men, feeling the gondola swing ever so slightly as they shifted over to new positions. “Beg for it-“

Theodore’s domineering tone sent a shiver down your spine- “Please-“ However before you could finish any begging, Matt shoved his cock between your lips, thrusting slowly.

“Keep going—“ The Italian said through gritted teeth, still teasing his throbbing length across your pussy. “P-please…God…Please fuck me- Please!” You spoke over Mattheo’s cock.

Theo hung his head back and let out an animalistic growl before slamming deep inside of your needy cunt. “Cazzo— So fuckin’ wet for us, huh?” He taunted you, Mattheo shooting him a shit-eating grin.

“She loves being spit roasted—“ Mattheo mumbled out deeply, fucking your throat even harder. But you? You were a fucking blissful mess between the two of them. Feeling your eyes already start to roll in the back of your head.

You could feel your orgasm approaching quickly, and your body starting to tremble with euphoric pleasure. “I think she’s getting close, Nott—“ Matt said through a low groan, turned on by the simple sexual aura of you.

“Is that so, Cara mia?”

The question had your submissive stare dancing over to Theo’s. Giving him a subtle head nod through Mattheo’s plows down your throat. Surely you’d have no voice tomorrow.

Theodore slammed his cock faster inside of you, snaking down his hand to apply pressure with his thumb around your clit. Swirling it around in tiny little circles. “Release for me—“

His demand along with all of the other sensations your body was experiencing, Sent you into an earth-shattering orgasm. Your wetness flowed freely down his throbbing length.

“Good fuckin’ girl— Cazzo-“

Theodore slowed down his thrusts, letting the afterglow wash over you while Mattheo pulled out of your mouth. The drool dripping from between your lips. “Fuck— I need to fuck her- feel her…”

Matt sounded hungry, something rumbling within him. However, you noticed the way Theo’s lips curled In a sinister manner. “How do you feel ‘bout anal, pretty girl?” He asked you, Mattheo letting a low chuckle rasp from his throat.

With widened eyes, you could feel your heart thump loudly against your chest. “I-I don’t mind it— I haven’t done it in a while though—“ Speaking shyly, Theodore raised his brows. “What about tonight…Could we both…Fill up those pretty holes of yours?”

With his question, excitement gleamed within Mattheo’s eyes and you swallowed. Fuck it. Why not right? “Y-yes…fuck- please do.” You practically begged the two men and Theo sat down on the seat across, stroking his cock while waiting for you.

Stumbling over, your legs shook with sensitivity, another taunting chuckle escaping Mattheo as he stalked behind you. “We will ease into it- yeah, Tesoro?” Theo murmured across your cheek as you turned around.

Theo’s hands spread your ass cheeks, spitting right onto your little hole before rubbing his thumb over it. He helped lower you onto his length, hissing from the foreign sensation. “Relax—“

Your head shot up to Mattheo’s eager voice, jerking himself off as Theo eased himself into your ass. You obliged, relaxing your body as Theodore slowly pumped himself inside of you.

“Fuck!— Little asshole is so fuckin’ tight-“

Moaning through his words, you didn’t feel pain or pressure…Just pleasure as he fully entered inside of you. Matt now walking up to your spread legs. “You’re such a hot little slut—“

Riddle complimented you but not wasting any time as he pushed his needy cock inside of your already stretched cunt, pounding into you mercilessly. One of his hands going around your throat and gripping hard.

Theo took this time to grab both of your breasts, pinching your nipples to a feeling of ecstasy. You felt so incredibly full and your mind was fuzzy with the immense amount of pleasure soaring within you.

“You weren’t wrong, Nott— She has a damn good pussy-“

The Italian just smirked over at his friend while he helped you move on his cock. You couldn’t even speak, get your raunchy thoughts out. But suddenly you felt that familiar feeling.

“I-I— don’t stop!— Fuck!- I’m gonna cum!”

Screaming with pleasure, you saw fucking stars as you hit yet another climax, this time even more intense than the first. Squirting out onto Matt’s length you swore you physically saw his eyes darken.

“Good girl— feeling so good and full, huh?” Theo spoke right against your ear, but judging by his groans he was close himself. Mattheo’s grip around your throat only tightened. “Such a good girl— gonna make me cum in this pretty cunt-“

You nodded your head, feeling Theo tugging on your nipples harder as they both seemed to fuck you harder. “Give me your cum— both of you— I want it— Fuck!- I want it inside of me— please!”

Crying out your beg, Theodore started pounding deeper inside of your hole, hearing a low growl emitting from his chest before Mattheo fucked your cunt like it was a damn need. His head shot back as he groaned loudly.

Feeling the both of them reach their own orgasm, their cocks throbbed within your walls with the sticky seed they both filled you up with. The three of you caught in haggard breaths.

You were about to speak, to say something. Anything. But you just simply relaxed against Theodore who wrapped his arms around you, his dick still balls deep in your ass while Mattheo pulled out of your cum filled cunt.

Theo leaned up to press a soft yet lingering kiss to your cheek. You couldn’t have believed you had done this but fuck- you weren’t upset about it in the least. Just as you found your words the speakers roared.

“Happy New Year to all of our guests! The lifts will be running here shortly!”

On the 12th day of Dickmas we get… Mattheo and Theodore destroying us🫦🎁

Divider pinned in my masterlist🌙

I can’t believe it’s the end of Dickmas! I hope all my smut sluts and naughty nymphs have enjoyed coming on this wild ride with me! Happy new years, I love you all bunches!💋

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chunksworld · 6 months ago

Text

Swim

IZ*ONE Kim Minju x Male Reader | (Tags: Smut)

A/N: #BreedMinju. Thank you to Kaede for beta reading as always.

————————

You never imagined in your wet dreams, in all of the times you masturbated to her, or even that time you drunk texted her a picture of you shirtless after one too many drinks at the bar that the woman you met inside the elevator during your first day at the company some two odd years ago would be in your apartment watching some rom-com from the 90s that you are too inebriated to remember the title of. Your heart is pounding, partly because of the double serving of triple shot espresso you perhaps shouldn’t have drank this morning and partly because she looks devastatingly stunning in that white shirt that completely conceals whatever shorts she maybe wearing underneath which further accentuates those long legs of hers—

“I don’t remember the TV facing this direction, unless there’s something on my face?”

Shit.

Aside from her God-given physical features, it’s the way she can toy with your feelings and flirt with you so effortlessly that always leaves you wanting for more. Every single little interaction with her is an adventure on its own; the way she would wink at you every time you pass by her in the office, the way she would walk up to you to fix your tie while telling you how your perfume “smells like the oceanside on a summer day” —whatever the hell that means— or how she would always give you words of encouragement with that bright smile of hers during stressful days.

It should mean something, has to mean something. Right? You can’t ask anyone for advice either, not when you’re the only two people born on this side of the century in your department. Your coworkers are either divorced or having a midlife crisis, and quite frankly, you might be having a quarter-life crisis if such a thing exists. You can’t stay professional any longer, and you are more than thankful that you’re not at the workplace right now because the thoughts swimming inside your head are absolutely not safe for work. And it’s all because of this fucking woman that’s laughing as if everything is sunshine and rainbows: Kim Minju.

It doesn’t help that she’s the prettiest woman you know. even more so than the handful of girls you’ve hooked up with during college. Evidently, you are not the only one that shares that sentiment because you don’t miss the old way some of your older male coworkers would give her a certain, disgusting look that you wish to erase from your memories and you know she deserves better than them. She deserves someone like you, but you don’t exactly know if that feeling is reciprocated. But as to how far you can push your luck, you haven’t found out the answer to that yet—perhaps tonight is the night.

“Are you still with me? Or did my goddess face lure you in too deep?”

That now makes the two of you not paying attention to the movie—granted you’ve already seen it at least a dozen times during college when you were a hopeless romantic but who are you to turn down Minju when she specifically requested it? Plus, that’s not your concern at this very moment when she scoots ever so closely to you and the heat her skin radiates is enough to burn you. “Honestly, I don’t blame you if you have a crush on me. I sort of have that effect on guys.” There’s that fucking wink again, and the way she pouts her lips as if she is posing for a selfie. “I admire your resilience though, most guys would have me moaning their names on their bed already by this point.”

“Not funny, Minju.” It really isn’t, not when she’s mere inches away from you and if you were just a bit more drunk now those irresistible lips of hers would be meshed with yours now. You try to look away but you can’t, they captivate you to no end and you don’t even want to look away now—the sheen on those cherry red lips, the way they stand out against her milky white skin, the way she then bites her lower lips as to tempt you even further, the way sweat slowly drips down the side of her face and to her neck and you think they’d look good with your bite marks all over them.

Even if you look down, her succulent thighs and legs are all that will pervade your senses and you won’t be able to stop thinking about how you just want to rip whatever garments she’s wearing underneath and have her spread her legs while you eat her out like she’s your last meal on Earth. “You can’t just keep doing this for years and not expect me to make a move eventually.”

“Then what’s stopping you, hmm?”

Minju somehow shifts even closer to you, her lips practically brushing against yours, her eyes staring deep into your soul, her hands resting on your thighs. She probes into you even deeper, much deeper than any other time and emergency sirens are popping up in your head. There have been many close encounters like this, way too many for your liking.

The way she would wear pencil skirts on certain days and make it her mission to bend over in front of you as much as possible to show the unreal curvature of her ass—then proceeding to smirk as if she doesn’t know how much your cock wants to burst through your pants. The way she would purposely bump into you and pretend to fall so you can pull her into an inadvertent hug.

Or when she would wear those dresses that hug her curves tightly during galas and she would give you a courtesy hug for a second longer than corporate policies would allow. Or when she kissed you during Christmas party last year and claimed that she had to do it because you two were “underneath a mistletoe.”

It all has to end tonight, because God forbid you have to spend another night alone on your bed making a mess while you shoot ropes after ropes all over yourself thinking about her. It’s exhausting having to play these games with her when you’re 99% sure she is into you and you have to take action now before someone else does.

“Minju, I don’t think you’re ready for what I’m packing down there.” You test the waters even further, carefully studying her facial expressions while trying not to get lost in her eyes. It’s quite a difficult task when the alcohol is hitting you harder by the minute but when a sly grin appears across her face as if to challenge that statement, you know you have her right where you want her.

“Oh trust me, I know what you’re packing down there.” Minju glances downwards at your erection and your sweatpants are doing a poor job with how it’s about to poke through your pants. “If I didn’t, I wouldn’t be spending my Friday night here when I could be hanging out with Chaewon and Yujin.” It’s getting dangerous now, her hands traveling down your body and cupping your length through two layers of clothing.

And honestly you might as well be naked now with the way your cock reacts to her touch —your tip is leaking heavily and your breath starts to shorten. “So what’s it gonna be? You can’t tell me you have a different plan for how this night is going to end.” You can’t push back any further, you won’t push back. You take the first dip, lips pressed hungrily onto hers and she takes this opportunity to swing her legs over and straddle you on your couch—the movie in the background is long forgotten and all you care about right now is her.

You straighten yourself up and wrap your arms around her waist possessively; two years of pent up sexual frustration finally coming to an end and you make the most of it. Her lips are everything you’ve dreamed of; soft and sweet and succulent and you can’t help but think about how they slot in with yours perfectly as if you were meant to kiss her all this time. Your hands travel to her face to cup her cheeks, pushing her head deeper into yours and you notice her hands encircling around your back.

You take a break to catch your bearings, staring deep again at her now lust-filled eyes and you get a front row seat to the facial expression you’ve been dying to see for forever now. She moans into your mouth when one of your hands slides underneath her dress shirt to feel her smooth skin and the ridges of her abs which itself isn’t a surprise—what is surprising is the lack of bra when you travel further upwards and you come into contact with tits that you are sure is perky and round. “What a fucking slut, Minju. No bra?”

Your suspicions are confirmed when you practically rip the buttons off her shirt and throw it somewhere in your living room and your mouth waters at the sight of her breasts, they are definitely not the biggest you’ve seen but the way they sit on her perfectly shaped body with all of her curves and intricacies is more than enough to make up for it. “What’s the use of wearing one when I knew we were gonna end up like this anyways?” But before you could dive down to taste them you find your shirt being removed as well and the hunger in your eyes is mirrored by the way she’s staring down at your own pack of abs.

“I mean if I had it my way I would’ve told you to be shirtless already with only your boxers on before I came over but you can’t have everything in life right?” She is as handsy as you, those delicate fingers mapping your chest and your stomach with every little touch as if to decipher where her lips would go later. But you absolutely cannot wait any longer, grabbing her hand and placing it on her sides while you devour her nipples. Taking her left breasts between your lips while massaging the right one and the whimper of your name that escapes her lips is downright sinful while you alternate between the two.

You lick, slurp, and at times even get your teeth involved—just anything that can get her squirming and writhing on your lap is enough to fuel you. Even more so when she pushes your head deeper into her chest and she’s moaning “more please, fuck” in between whimpers.

Minju is one needy girl and that’s one fact that you find out quickly when she starts to grind on your hips and you can feel just how warm and wet her shorts are. You inadvertently bite on her nipples and she screams your name at the sensation. You utter a “sorry” in response but it doesn’t really matter when she gets off of you and you think you’ve absolutely screwed up. Fucking great. She stands up and you are about to give a more sincere and heartfelt apology but those thoughts are quickly washed away when she removes her shorts and then her panties.

“I want to see that cock. Now.”

You don’t waste a single moment before you proceed to do the same thing to your undergarments and the sight of her fully naked in front of you causes you to leak even more precum with your cock freely exposed to the air. Minju looks hot—which in itself might be an understatement with the way she’s fucking you with those wide eyes of hers, the way her nipples are glimmering under the lights of your living room thanks to your saliva, the way her abs contract with every breath she takes, the way those stocky thighs are slick with her essence. Forget those wet dreams because none of them could match witnessing the actual Kim Minju naked in real life in your apartment.

Minju squeals when you drag her back down towards you to make her straddle your lap again. No more games, no more foreplay, you slowly sink her down your cock and drink in her moans when she buries her face in your shoulder. She is suffocatingly tight, extremely wet but tight and you almost spill mere seconds after finally inserting your entire length inside her. You wince slightly as her manicured nails press into your shoulders and eventually your back. “Fucking—shit—If I only knew—”

Your pace is slow and methodical, even though you want to just pound her into oblivion and have her screaming to the point your neighbors will complain the morning after. She is Minju after all and she deserves that respect, but as to how long you can control yourself you don’t know. For now, you are content to just have her in your arms and revel in this moment that you’d never thought would ever come. Just feeling how your cock molds perfectly inside her and how her small bunny hops gradually increase over time and her face becomes lost in pleasure is more than enough.

Especially when you feel every inch of her goddess-like body pressed against yours when she arches up to you; her thighs bouncing against yours, her abs grinding against yours, and those breasts pressed against your chest. “—so deep, fuck—harder!” It’s about time you take control and you do just that, you plant your feet to the ground and you grab handfuls of her asscheeks with each hand before thrusting up in time with her thrust and Minju’s gone completely delirious now.

Gone are the coherent sentences as they are now replaced by expletive-filled chants of pleasure. She’s damn near crying on your cock, tears welling up in her eyes due to pleasure and so you pull her face away to get a glimpse of her sweat-misted face and how her eyes are unfocused. You don’t know what came over you but you feel your heart skip a beat seeing such surreal beauty up close and personal so you pull her in for another makeout session, continuing your long and hard thrusts while your tongue ravages her mouth much like your cock does with her pussy.

“Fucking hell, we should’ve done this sooner.” Another kiss on her lips, then another lick of her nipples—make that two licks, no in fact, you devour them once more. It’s becoming clearer that they’re starting to become your favorite part of her body and it’s completely justified. “ I can’t believe I had to jack off to your pictures when you were just one call away.” The woman in question doesn’t respond but she blushes, the raw honesty of your words is enough to reveal that shy and demure side of her again despite the situation you two are currently in.

Minju just brushes her hair aside in response while looking away, taking the initiative to bounce on your cock and you let her take over once again. “W-Well I’m here now—“ A particularly hard thrust deep into a certain spot inside her has her clenching around your cock much tighter than usual, you take mental note of this “—I hope I’m as good as advertised.” Of course she is and even better than whatever scenario you were cooking up inside your head, but instead of showing it through words you just smile at her and hope that it’s enough to show your admiration and you let your body do the talking.

You’re noticing how tired she’s becoming being on top so you don’t waste any more time and pick up the pace while still letting her guide the way. It’s silence between the two of you aside from the sounds of passionate lovemaking and that is just enough to push you two closer to the edge. You feel her clench tighter around you again and likewise you can feel your balls throbbing in anticipation too. It’s been a stressful week at work and there’s no better place to unload than inside her welcoming pussy. You’re just as close to her as reaching your orgasm and it’s becoming extremely difficult not to do anything but to burst inside hers.

Forget the lovemaking, you lift her up by her asscheeks and stand up from the couch and you immediately feel her limbs coil around your body as she gasps at the sensation of being fully seated by your cock. You start to thrust up again, this time more relentlessly without the restrictions of the couch and she’s leaking even more now and you can actually feel her juices stream down your cock and you know she’s extremely close. “D-Don’t stop, please. Don’t you ever fucking stop!” She’s bouncing much higher than before, almost completely unsheathing your length before she crashes back down on it again and now she’s actually crying in pleasure.

“Hnnghhh! Fuck! I can’t, I can’t—” There was certainly no way she was going to last any longer. “—G-Gonna cum on your cock!” And a few more of those wild thrusts is all it takes to set her off, going limp and forcing you to grab hold of her even tighter so she doesn’t slip off—a task given difficult given how much sweat is emanating both of your bodies but you don’t care especially when all of those juices causes you to slip out of her for a minute and you don’t care about the mess you two are making on the floor at this very moment when you’re about to follow her with your own orgasm.

“Such a fucking good girl for me, Minju.” You slide back inside her, this time it’s easier thanks to the lubrication she provided and you can’t help but grit your teeth and close your eyes. It’s too much, all of this. What transpired tonight and what it means for your future. It’s all too much to handle and you can’t hold it any longer. You’re about to give her the biggest load you’ve ever given anyone. “You deserve all of this, I’ve wanted you so fucking bad.“ All she can do is nod as she is still sensitive from her own orgasm but with the way she’s wrapping her arms around you tighter she wants it as badly as you do. “Gonna fucking cum inside.”

“Please! I want your hot—hnggh—I want your cum. Please. When a beautiful woman like her gives you such a permission you don’t waste it, you hold her tight as you begin to pump ropes after ropes of cum in her pussy with every deep thrust. You don’t want to stop cumming, can’t stop cumming—your legs going weak and forcing you to sit down on the couch while you continue to unload deep inside Minju. It feels fucking euphoric, feeling your load drip back down to your cock and balls as that seemed to drain the soul out of you.

You’ve been holding back from the moment you first saw her all those years ago and there’s no better feeling than this, not even a promotion could rival how addicting having sex with her feels and you want more. You want to continue diving into the ocean that is Kim Minju even if it means drowning, nothing else matters but her.

As if to try to coax more cum out of you, Minju continues to grind her hips while kissing you. This time it’s much more slow and gentle while you lay her on the couch and hover on top of her. It’s beautiful how her hair, though disheveled, cascades down her shoulders and fans out on the cushion below.

Her limbs are still wrapped tight around you, your softening cock starting to harden while you begin to fuck her once more—you’re making a mess of the couch with how you’re fucking your cam back into her but it doesn’t matter when she’s going to be filled again. “You still have enough cum for me? I’m surprised.”

You place kisses on her neck this time, making sure to leave marks dark enough that no amount of foundation can conceal it once Monday comes around. Surprisingly she doesn’t protest, perhaps she does want everyone to find out about you two. “Guess I didn’t do a good job of draining you, huh?” You respond by fucking her harder into the couch, feeling the furniture creak and move with every thrust and you render her speechless once again.

Lean down to capture those bouncing tits in your mouth and continue to work her to another orgasm which wasn’t difficult to accomplish considering how sensitive she still is. It didn’t take long to set you off either and you unload whatever remaining load you have, which is still plenty considering you almost passed out with how much you left inside her just ten minutes ago.

She urges you to sit up on the couch again and she gets off of it to kneel down in front of you before then taking your flaccid cock in her mouth to clean you off. The sight is pornographic, the way she shows off your combined juices on her tongue before making a show of swallowing it all. “Hmm, we taste good together. I don’t mind having some more of that.”

Minju gets off her knees to sit down right beside you and the way her naked body glistens under the natural light outside your apartment is an unparalleled sight that has your heart swooning and doing backflips. “Well, I’m free this entire weekend.” And perhaps shooting your shot when all of this has already happened is quite a ridiculous predicament to be in but you don’t want to be selfish after all. Surely a girl like her has plenty of suitors you’re not aware of and you don’t want to tie her down especially when nothing is official yet.

“I guess I could be convinced.”

Those ten seconds of silence felt like an eternity. But it was all worth it the moment she gives you that smile that makes your heart race even faster. And despite kissing her for what seems like a million times already, this one has special weight. As if to tell the world that the most beautiful woman you have ever known and perhaps will ever know is now yours and there’s nothing that could change that. Screw all of those disgusting old men with their mid-life crisis because your quarter-life crisis just ended in the most satisfying way possible.

You’re embarrassed by the way you whine the moment you don’t feel her lips on yours anymore but you are quickly consoled the moment she stands up and turns around to flaunt that perfectly shaped ass of hers. Suddenly, blood rushes to your cock again as if you didn’t cum twice already.

“Come on, take me to your bedroom.” Minju eyes you like a piece of meat once again when she pulls you up to your feet.

“There’s one more hole you forgot to fill.”

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