#if only that guy was sitting further back

[saiintvalentiine]

star-bright

Summary: Parrot is a lesser dragon who's looking for a wishing star to turn himself into a true dragon.

Notes: this is. hm. kinda weird even for me i think. if you've read requiescat, this premise is actually familiar to you, and you'll realize immediately how this is gonna end. unedited and hastily written to get it out of my system. divider.

Word count: 1,406

1 am

There's a clean impact crater in the field about three yards all around. There's a clear drag line through the grass heading north, where skyscrapers shine and the city coughs up smoke. It tapers off, but it's not hard to imagine that such a sight would be tempting to a falling wish.

Parrot has a wish to cash in, and stardust is easy to track.

2 am

Cities around here never sleep. It's part of Parrot's problem. He can't protect everything he wants, everyone he wants when he's this weak in a world this wide. Smoke billows out of the corners of his mouth, unthinking, unhappy, wings inert and senses dampened.

This wishing star is what will let him become what he was always meant to become.

He's been waiting to see one fall. They look like shooting stars, and there are plenty of those around, but a dragon can tell the difference. Even to a lesser one like him, they look brighter, tempting, more promising than the average star.

The trail this star has left behind is bright, sweet, lilac-tinted and sparkling. It weaves in and out of bars and tourist traps, between the bustling crowds and haggling merchants. Parrot is following, but just barely. It's trying to hide.

It knows its time is limited and is trying to extend it. How unfortunate for it that Parrot is the one who's going to find it.

3 am

The wishing star is eating a hot dog. Parrot is stunned when he finally catches up to it and it's at a hotdog stand. He honestly—

“ ‘s really good,” the star praises, smiling at the vendor.

“Can't believe you've never had a hotdog,” the vendor says wistfully.

“Crazy huh?”

The star finishes its meal, wiping its hands on a napkin. Its hair is dark with thin streaks of white, eyes violet and charming, and its skin deathly pale. It looks just like the old texts describe them— ethereal, impossible to look away from, delicious.

“There's a cart down that way that sells kebabs. You tell ‘em Vic sent ya, they'll make you my favorite.”

The star bounces up, brightens, and says, “I will! Thank you!”

“You have a safe night now,” the vendor calls out as the star walks off with a wave.

Parrot goes to follow, only to get his arm grabbed by the vendor.

“What's your problem?” Parrot snaps, shrugging out of his grip, the star getting further and further away.

“You leave that boy alone you fuckin’ pest, y’hear me?”

Parrot is— what the actual hell? He stares at the vendor, too baffled to respond for a moment.

“Don't think I didn't see you standin’ there leering,” the vendor continues. “It’s creeps like you makin’ this place impossible to live in. Fuck off.”

Oh god, this guy thinks Parrot is creeping on the star.

“I'm not doing anything wrong,” Parrot sputters out, stepping back and bumping into a passer-by. “I'm— I'm leaving!”

“Good riddance!”

Parrot scrambles off, flustered. He holds off on following the star’s trail until he's far out of the vendor’s sight.

4 am

It takes a little while longer, and Parrot spends way too long red in the face about it, but he eventually catches up to the wishing star again. This time, it's at a bar, which Parrot is deeply annoyed by. It's loud and smelly in here, but the irritated smoke that rises from his nose blends in with the eight people he sees smoking in here, so it's not all bad.

The star looks too sweet sitting at the bar. It's wearing a soft grey sweater and black slacks, with mismatched black and white boots. Despite that, the bartender is pouring it a drink with a big grin.

“This one has Midori in it,” she says over the music.

“Midori,” the star echoes. “Sounds delicious.”

“Oh it is!”

The star drinks from a cup with bright green liquid in it, and suddenly Parrot wonders how it's paying for this. Do stars descend with cash on hand? He's contemplating this as he edges closer and closer, shoulders being brushed here and there by other patrons. Someone brushes behind the star, and it turns at the resulting hasty apology. Parrot can tell the second it spots him in the corner of its vision— a hitched breath and a heavy hand slapping a wad of bills on the bartop are all Parrot gets before the star runs. It weaves so easily between people, like it's wafer thin, and the bartender yells after it. Parrot darts after it, tries to snatch its arm but fails as it bursts out of the bar and into the street.

Fine. If it wants to do this the hard way, Parrot isn't afraid of some hard work.

5 am

The goddamn star is still running and Parrot is running out of time. Wishing star luck piles up around it as it tries to escape, as it crashes into the arms of a wolf hybrid and a cat hybrid who accidentally block Parrot’s path, then it’s whisked a few feet away by a strange suit-wearing enderman when they trip into each other, then a different cat hybrid falls onto Parrot in a series of convoluted accidents that are only possible in fiction— at least Parrot thought they were only possible in fiction.

It doesn’t matter. Luck won’t be enough. Parrot will guarantee that.

6 am

Parrot finally catches the star. It’s racing back to the field it fell into, maybe trying to make it to the woods opposite of the city in an attempt to lose track of Parrot. But he’s sick of this game and he has to make this wish before dawn if he’s going to become who he was always meant to be, and that’s what pushes him to finally tackle the star down. Felled, it tries to scramble away, but Parrot catches its wrists between his talons and pins its squirming body down.

“Let go of me,” the star wheezes, ring-adorned fingers spasming wildly. “Let go of me!”

“Not until I get my wish,” Parrot snaps, breathing heavy, voice shot. He squeezes his hands and the star makes a choked noise.

“No, no no no, I’ll die if you do that, I’ll die!”

“I know that.”

“And you’re okay with that?!”

The star squirms, turning on its side to look up at Parrot. Its face is streaked with sweat and tears and dirt, but no blood; Parrot is sure these things don’t have mortal blood to bleed anyway, but he’s a little surprised it didn’t hurt itself on the way down. It just looks dirty now. Soiled.

“Fulfilling a wish costs the blood of the lamb.”

It tries again to wrench away from Parrot, but it won’t be able to get free. What Parrot wants is too much, too wide—

“I have a name, I’m a person,” the star begs. “I’m Wifies, I like— I like the color purple, I like Midori— at least, I think I do, I need more time, I could—”

“You are a wishing star, you aren’t a person! This is the point, getting caught and dying to a wish is the point of your existence!”

“Says who!” Wifies head drops down, voice wavering and wet. “Says who, the lesser dragons who use us? Of course you all think that’s all we’re good for! That’s what keeps you as lesser. If you can’t take it with your own hands, you’ll steal it from us.”

Wifies is heaving, pearlescent in the moonlight, and Parrot hates him.

“I have tried everything!” Parrot can’t control the way his voice rises, the way his mouth gets hot, the way his useless wings twitch on his back. “Everything to become better!”

“And you’ll kill me for it, because you’re a failure!”

“I wish,” Parrot is seeing red, he’s got to be precise with this, has to ignore the shuddering sobs beneath him. “I wish to become a true dragon.”

7 am

Parrot greets the dawn alone, no body, no heat, nothing beneath him.

He sits on his knees alone as the stars in the sky taper away to the sunlight. His wings unfurl to their full length, healthy and heavy, and he feels the potency in his throat, not just heat but flame flicking, flicking, flicking away in his gut. There isn’t even residue on his hands left.

Parrot greets the dawn alone.

[defiantinnies]

Emotional Support - Seth Milchick

chapter one

pairing: Seth Milchick x fem!reader

cw: afab reader, slowburn, there will be very minor plot changes, milchick is lowkey unprofessional and ooc as time goes on, eventual sexual content, violence, not proofread

summary: Days in the MDR office are long. The lovely thing about them is him. And your co-workers. Definitely also your co-workers.

The lights. Those bright, white fluorescent lights. Boy, do they hurt your eyes. Your bottom also hurts, likely from sitting all day refining. Your fingers cramp so you crack them.

You look over to Petey’s desk. He’s been gone today. With no one else for Mark to playfully banter with, it has been quiet. You thought you’d enjoy it at first, the quiet, but you quickly realized their chatter had been like white noise for you to concentrate, so you miss it.

Irving, as usual, is refining silently. Mark is concentrated on his screen and Dylan plays around with one of his blue Lumon-gifted finger traps, presumably having finished a file. And you are distracted, studying all of them like rats.

After a moment, the three begin talking. You decide not to interject, instead listening silently to their meaningless conversation—something about Mark and Petey being sick, discussion about Irving’s classic “what’s for dinner” line, the perks.

Then suddenly, he walks in. Milchick. “Good morning, Macrodata Refinement,” he says.

Irving stands. “Hi, Mr. Milchick.”

You almost think he’s a suck up, but you know you’d do the same if you weren’t so sheepish, so you cannot judge him.

Instead of chatting with all of you like you hoped he would, he calls Mark out for a “talk”. Mark exits the MDR office and you hear their footsteps grow further and further away until it is silent. Only you, Dylan, and Irving remain.

After a moment, Dylan speaks up.

“What do you think’s going on?” He asks.

“Maybe it has something to do with Petey.” Irving replies. “What do you think, Y/N?”

“A Petey problem.” You say. It seems that your words trigger silence, because that is what fills the room as you sit with what you said.

Dylan leans in closer. “Do you guys think he got fired?” He questions.

“We cannot assume things like that. Mr. Milchick would tell us if so,” Irving says.

“Irv, you trying to get brownie points or something?” Dylan jokes.

And you try not to laugh, but it is so hard not to. Their eyes direct to you. Dylan starts chuckling after a moment.

“See, even she’s laughing. She thinks so too.” He adds.

“Y/N, do you really think that’s funny?” Irving asks. Your smile falters.

“No. Sorry Irv.” You mutter. To occupy yourself you begin refining again before looking at Dylan. “I agree—Milchick would tell us.”

Dylan rolls his eyes. “Damn. Where the hell is Mark? Now I’m stuck with two lapdogs.”

Irving scoffs at his words. You almost see his professional persona break as he opens his mouth to counter him, but he stops himself before anything gets out.

Everyone goes back to refining, and again, you’re back alone with your thoughts again. Where is Petey? Where is Mark? Sunflower seeds or dried blueberries for lunch? Why did you laugh at Irving? That was rude. You aren’t rude. Or at least you don’t think so. What do they think about you?

Irving is the next to be called out of the office. When he is, Dylan asks Milchick what is going on, and he simply responds with that too-perfect smile.

It is a long while before they return. About an hour of refining, you estimate. And when they do, a pretty lady with an intense strut follows them. She has dark orange hair, almost like the food tokens for the vending machine, and a dark green turtleneck that you are sure violates the dress code. Irving sits at his desk, and Dylan is ready to pop another question.

Milchick pushes a television cart into the room, settling it a short distance in front of a rolling chair that you think was always there.

“Who’s she?” Dylan questions.

“Petey’s replacement,” Irving responds. “Her name is Helly R.”

Mark returns with a bandage on his forehead and sits.

“What happened to your forehead?” Dylan asks Mark.

“A speaker was thrown.” He says.

“Shit.” Dylan looks back at the perpetrator, who is watching herself on the television. Her outie, you mean. Everyone follows suit, glancing over at her. They look back to their screens. You don’t.

Your eyes shift between the television, Helly, and Milchick like clockwork. You are looking at Helly when she turns back and offers you what seems like a look of sympathy before quickly turning back at the television.

Milchick looks at you after her. His gaze holds for a little too long. It is intense, as well. So intense and prolonged, in fact, that you are the one to look away first.

Back to refining again, after the nth distraction that day. Helly soon approaches the desks, specifically Petey’s empty one, alongside Milchick.

“Y/N, will you come with me?” Milchick questions. What? Why you? Is it because of the look? What did you do?

You exchange a quick glance with Mark and Dylan before getting out of your seat and following Milchick into the hallway. You two stop once you are out of the office.

“Would you like to take a walk with me?” He asks. His smile is polished, practiced, like usual.

“Ok.” You respond.

Once you reach the conference room, he speaks up. “I just wanted to check in with you.”

You look over at him as you walk.

“I’ve noticed a slight dip in your refinement metrics today. Nothing alarming, of course, but we strive for consistency here at Lumon,” he continues, “I understand transitions can be an adjustment.”

His slight smile doesn’t waver.

“And I know work can sometimes feel…weighty. Even for our most dedicated refiners. That is why Lumon provides the resources to ensure every worker remains at their most optimal.”

A pause. His steps cease abruptly. Without thinking, yours do too. You turn, catching the quiet scrutiny in his expression.

“Would you like to schedule a wellness session with Ms. Casey?” He finally asks.

You stare a moment. A wellness session would be good for you. A wellness session would keep things running smoothly. A wellness session would be the right choice. His eyes stay on you, patient, waiting.

Milchick notices your hesitation.

“It’s completely voluntary, of course. We, I, want to make sure you are feeling your best,” He claims calmly. His demeanor seems to expect something from you.

“I’m okay. Really. I think Petey’s absence just has me a little bothered. And all the other distractions today, as a matter of fact.” Your fingers play nervously with the hem of your sleeve. “I appreciate the offer, but I think I’ll get back to normal soon. I don’t want to take up Ms. Casey’s time with something so small.”

His expression doesn’t falter, but there is a subtle shift in his gaze as he watches you.

“I understand. Change can be challenging,” he says, his voice smooth but softer than before. “Even for those who adapt well. And you do adapt well.”

For a brief moment, you feel the lightest pressure against your shoulder. His hand, just barely resting there. But the moment you glance down at it, his fingers retreat just as quickly, as if the gesture was never meant to be there.

The two of you resume walking, this time back in the direction of the MDR office. You steal a glance at him. His posture remains upright, hands clasped behind his back now.

“Still, I hope you’ll be kind to yourself. Petey’s absence has been noted, and if you’re feeling… off, that’s understandable. It’s not a flaw.”

He exhales lightly through his nose, the closest thing to a sigh you’ve ever heard from him.

“I won’t push.” A small pause. “But if that changes—if you ever want to talk, or if the weight of everything becomes too much—you only have to say the word.”

The hum of fluorescents overhead fills the brief silence between you. Still, as you both turn the final corner back toward MDR, there’s a noticeable change in the air. You wonder if it’s just you who feels it, or Milchick too.

As if sensing the moment has stretched just long enough, Milchick’s posture straightens again, his usual professional demeanor locking back into place.

“For now, I’ll let you get back to work.” His smile returns. “I appreciate your diligence. Truly.”

As you near the door, he slows just slightly, letting you step ahead.

“Thank you for taking the walk,” he says, voice as smooth and measured as ever, but something in his tone feels lighter. He is letting himself slip again. “I hope the rest of your workday is fulfilling.”

“Yours too, Mr. Milchick.” You smile.

He nods. Smiles, again.

Milchick lingers for a beat, watching as you settle back into your station. Only when you’ve fully returned to your work does he finally turn away, his footsteps fading into the distance as he disappears down the hall.

All eyes are on you. Mark, Dylan, Irving, Kelly—no, Helly, you think—all look at you. Their eyes ask something they don’t need to say, one you’ve heard today after two of the men staring were taken out by Milchick. What did he say to you?

You swallow, shifting in your seat. “It was nothing.” The words feel flimsy the second they leave your mouth.

Dylan scoffs, leaning back in his chair. “Right. ‘Nothing.’ That’s why he took you on a little field trip.”

Irving exhales sharply through his nose. “He didn’t reprimand you, did he? Because if your numbers are down, it’s entirely understandable given the circumstances.”

The circumstances. The word hangs there, but you all know what it means. Petey. Helly.

You try not to fidget under their stares, keeping your hands folded neatly on your lap. “He just wanted to check in,” you say carefully. “Make sure I was… adjusting well.”

Dylan is about to say something. But then Mark clears his throat and breaks the moment. “Alright, everyone. Let’s get back to it.” His tone is light, casual, like he’s trying to brush off the tension, but you can tell it’s more for your benefit than anyone else��s.

Again. Refining. The office settles back into the usual rhythm of work and you force yourself to focus on your screen, on the numbers in front of you, but your mind keeps drifting back. The hallway. His voice, softer than usual. The warmth of his hand on your shoulder.

Slowly, absently, you bring a hand to your shoulder, pressing your fingertips to the spot where his touch had been.

There’s nothing there now—just fabric and the familiar shape of your own body. But still, for some reason, you keep your hand there.

[lotusloong]

Can you maybe write MKR!Wukong confessing his feelings to the reader? Please?

Gentle Pace

Relationship: MKR!Sun Wukong X Female Harpy!Reader

AN: Hoooo okay I am very sorry for how long it took to get this out, the past two-ish weeks have been pretty hectic irl, so my writing has been suffering a little. I finally got this done tho, I really hope you like it! I did try to get him to actually confess but MKR!Wukong was just like 'no im too emotionally guarded' so I got the closest thing to it.

Tags: Fluff, Sort of love confessions

Read it on AO3!

The fire crackles and flickers light over him, its warmth seeping into his bare feet. His hands are folded in front of him as he tries, and fails, to meditate.

Things had been quiet since the defeat of Yuandi, and Wukong feels the creeping dread of suspicion settling into his bones once more. Any day now, any moment, there's going to be another attack from yaoguais looking to steal his Master away. He knows it's coming, but that doesn’t stop the feeling of unease that the calm before the storm leaves him with.

Despite his efforts to meditate, he feels restless. His tail keeps twitching where it curls in the grass behind him, the only thing keeping it flat on the ground being the tiny fruit spirit curled up with the limb, using his fur as a blanket. Further behind him in the tree line, you sit and make up your sleeping area for the night. Wukong peeks at you over his shoulder, watching with quiet fascination as you make a pseudo-nest in the branches of a tree to get comfortable. Your colorful tail feathers dangle from the branch you sit on as you tie branches and leaves together, lining the semi circular shape with cloth from a bedroll you had purchased and subsequently tore into pieces. Every time your group moves on you collect all the fabric pieces you can, storing them in a bag to use for your next night of camping.

You look up from your little nest, meeting his eyes. He startles, looking back at the fire in front of him and trying in vain to stop the blush from rising in his cheeks. His ears twitch as he hears you glide down from your spot, your form settling down next to his in the soft grass. 

“You look lonely.” You tease. Wukong scoffs in mock offense, crossing his arms and scowling at the fire. 

“I'm the Monkey King, a yaoguai with power equal to heaven. I don't get lonely.” He huffs.

“Could have fooled me.”

“I have Fruitie.” You spare a glance at the tiny spirit just as he rolls off Wukong's tail, hands reaching for a fallen leaf in his sleep that he brings closer to cuddle, promptly snapping the dried material into little pieces. The little guy is drooling on the grass.

“Seems like good company.” You grin. His eyes dart down to your lips, wondering not for the first time how soft they must feel. They look soft, he thinks he would enjoy feeling them against his own…

Wukong jolts, glaring off into the starry night sky and hoping you won't notice his blush. Or if you do, that you'll blame it on the heat of the fire. The silence stretches on as you sit together, your presence bringing comfort to him he didn’t want to admit he craved. Your smell surrounds him, the sound of your steady, even breaths soothing his own nerves. His claws twitch in his lap, the desire to reach out to you and hold you prickling at his skin.

Would you let him? If he reached his hand out right now, just to set it on top of yours and gently pull you closer and into his lap, would you let him? Your sweet face tucked into the safety of his own neck, his lips able to press against the crown of your head…

The rustling of feathers catches his attention. You’ve unfolded one of your wings from your back, laying the limb out in your lap to preen and fix the feathers. They look so soft and colorful, and Wukong finds he (not for the first time) wants to trail his fingers over them all, to see what kind of sound you would make with his touch on such a sensitive part of you…

And then your fingers reveal a spot missing feathers, the skin underneath still rough and scarred. Wukong remembers how it happened, watching you soaring through the air to try and save Fruitie, to pull the tiny spirit to safety where Yuandi wouldn’t be able to follow, only for a dark tendril to spear into your wing. You had screamed and went spiraling, crashing into the dirt far from Wukong, where he couldn’t protect you-

He frowns.

You notice. You always notice when his mood changes.

“It doesn’t hurt anymore.” You whisper. He glances up at you, your eyes earnest and genuine as you try to reassure him. He looks away, huffing hot air from his nose in response.

“I didn’t say anything.” He grumbles.

“You didn’t have to.”

He huffs again, shoulders tense. Why are you so good at reading him? Why does he let you so close?

Wukong sighs, the tension draining from him and replaced with weariness. He knows why.

You suddenly stand up next to him and pat him on the head, fingers weaving through his soft fur. He looks up at you with a raised eyebrow and forces himself not to chitter in pleasure at the feeling of you petting him.

“Come on. Let’s go for a soar, get some of that pent up energy out of you.” With that you step away from the fire, stretching your arms high above your head and letting your wings stretch open to their full length. He watches where he still sits - the colors of your feathers look dazzling in the firelight. You glance over your shoulder at him, a coy smile on your lips.

“Well?” You call, a challenging tone to your voice. Wukong jolts, blinking rapidly before jumping into the air, summoning his cloud beneath him to land on. He glances at where Fruitie is still curled up, his broken leaf still clutched in his tiny hands. His gaze moves to Master Tang under a tree at the edge of the camp, his sleeping face peaceful.

Satisfied, he nods to himself and turns back to you, smirking deviously.

“Bet I could catch you.” He growls low in his throat, lowering himself into a crouched position on his cloud. Your eyes widen at his words, heat rushing to your cheeks. You giggle, and with a snap of your wings you're off the ground, speeding away from him.

Wukong takes off after you, the chill night breeze invigorating him as he gives chase.

One of his favorite things about your late night flying sessions together? You’re one of the few beings he knows (and enjoys the company of) that can keep up with his speed. You’re far ahead of him already, wings spread wide and gaining more distance with every flap. He doesn’t have to force himself to slow down to give you a chance of winning your game, you push him to actually use up his energy. 

You give him a challenge.

He loves it.

He somersaults over the reaching branches of a tree and lands on a new cloud, eyes never leaving you. You glance back at him, smiling with teeth and giving him a cheeky wave from your safe distance. The familiar feeling of competition floods through his veins and Wukong urges himself to go faster, pushing more power into his cloud. You follow suit, arching your wings high and pushing yourself higher up towards the cloud layer above you both. He watches as your tail feathers disappear above the puffy whiteness and turns his cloud to follow.

The dazzling sight of the milky way greets him above the cloud layer, the moon bright and full where it sits. Your colorful feathers seem to glisten under the light, and Wukong feels breathless as he watches you dive and arch through the air before him. 

The chase seems less important now, as he flies closer to you and spins in unison with your own form. You laugh in glee, following his circle as you move through the air, the wind rushing past you both. Your hands stretch towards him, and he doesn't hesitate for a moment before he's grabbing you back, the two of you spinning around and around with the stars around you. Energy courses through his veins and leaves him excited, your smell on the wind and your smile across from him. 

He slows down, gently tugging your warm hands into following his motions. You follow his lead and let yourself come to a gentle stop in the air, your feet coming to rest on his cloud. 

“Done already?” You ask with a raised eyebrow. “Growing old, Monkey King?” Wukong gives an amused huff at your words, rolling his eyes even as he grins at you. 

“Not done, just…wanted to take a moment.” He admits. You cock your head to the side in question but don't pull away. He's thankful for it, his heart beating a million miles a second as he watches you. 

You go out of your way to help him and his…emotional difficulties. He knows he's a hard ass, Bajie wouldn't hesitate to bad mouth him to anyone who would listen, but you always seem to have patience for him. More than that, you actually empathize with him, trying to help him understand his frustrations and anger when it's too much. 

It hadn't been his idea to go on nightly flights over the world when he grew tense, but yours. You had taken one look at him that first night, tail flicking in irritation and a snarl on his lips, before clapping your hands and demanding he go flying with you. He had resisted at first, unwilling to leave his Master and suspicious of your intentions still. You knew how to read him even then though, and had challenged him with no hesitation to prove that he could fly better. 

Since then it has become your little ritual, a way for the two of you to get away from everyone else when things are too much.

Wukong wishes he had a way to tell you all this, how much he appreciates your presence and help. How much he's come to rely on your steady, calm demeanor compared to his feisty vengeful one. 

How much you mean to him. 

His hand comes up between the two of you, reaching for your cheek before he freezes, uncertainty making him second guess himself. 

Your eyes follow his movement, and for one heart stopping moment he thinks this is it, you're going to scoff at him and pull away. That you'll glare and call him a ‘bastard monkey’ for daring to even think such soft thoughts about you. He's a brute, a greedy yaoguai that would break something as gentle as you…

But you don't do that. 

You step closer to him, your own hand coming up to grip him by the wrist and bring it up to your face. His breath catches in his throat and he swallows, eyes locked with yours. He feels the gentle pressure of your lips on the pad of his pointer finger, followed by pressure on his middle, then his ring and then his pinky. His thumb is the last to get a kiss, and you trail those incredibly gentle lips down to his palm and finally the soft inner part of his wrist where you hold it. 

Your eyes never leave his the whole time.

When you're finished, you place his hand on your cheek on purpose, nuzzling against his calloused skin like it's the best thing you've ever felt, your eyes fluttering closed. He shudders in delight, closing his eyes as he savors the feeling of your skin under his rough claws. It’s overwhelming, just this simple touch has him losing himself. He wants more, but he can’t, you’re too soft, too right and comfortable. It’s dangerous to feel this way.

Not that he even deserves your affection if he can’t even say the damn words clawing at the back of his throat.

“I…I want…” He chokes, frustrated with himself. His free hand curls into a fist as his brow furrows in concentration. Why is this so hard? How did you make it look so easy? It’s a perfect moment even - the moon shining bright above you both with an endless starry sky, white puffy clouds under your feet. This is the kind of moment that hopeless romantics dream of when it comes to romance, to have a confession in such a beautiful place. 

He wants to tell you, he wants to share the quiet spaces of his stone heart with you and only you…if you would have him.

“Wukong.” You come to his rescue, as usual. “It’s alright.”

“Huh?”

“It’s okay. You don’t need to say anything you aren’t ready for.” You whisper to him, like it’s a secret only the two of you will ever share. A growl reverberates through his chest, anger directed at himself. 

“I want to. I want to tell you…to-...let you know-” His fur ruffles and puffs up with agitation, and he shakes himself to get rid of the response. You hide a smile into his palm still cupping the curve of your cheek. He can feel your breath against his pulse.

“We have time.” You say, looking at him with such certainty he almost believes you.

“But-...but I…”

“Wukong. I’ll let you set the pace. We can go as fast or slow as you feel comfortable with.” A nerve is soothed inside him, your gentle reassurance more than what he could have asked for.

“And what about…about k-kissing, or-” He lets his remaining anxiety slip out, craving your soothing words. Your own hands come up to cup his cheeks, your thumbs rubbing the line of black on his cheekbones. He all but melts into your touch. He could slip through the cloud layer and fall to earth right now and he’d be content. 

“Whenever you’re ready. You can kiss me now, or tomorrow, or 500 years from now. I will wait.” Heat rises to your own cheeks, your gaze turning shy at your own words. “If all you can do right now is this-”

You use one hand to gesture around you both before bringing it back to his cheek, where he craves for it to stay.

“Joining me at beautiful sights and l-letting me hold you…h-holding me back…” Your smile makes his stomach flutter. “Then that’s enough. It’ll always be enough.”

A small, scared voice in the depths of his soul finally quiets at your words. You mean it. He can take his time to explore this with you, to learn to trust these feelings you ignited in him. He follows his instincts, moving both his hands to your waist and pulling you closer, chest to chest. He lets his forehead rest against your own, your breath mingling and your fingers still playing with the fur on his head.

“Thank you. I promise…I’ll get there.” 

The two of you stand there, under the light of stars and moon, and revel in your new shared secret.

[theunluckycanuck]

mafia boss!oscar sitting in his office, while enforcer!lando comes through the door. oscar looks up to see what's the matter and lando is next to bloodied.

blood smeared across his suit jacket and stuck to his knuckles. oscar doesn't know if it belonged to the guy he sent lando to rough up, or lando himself. he is on his feet, urging lando further into the office. to have some privacy.

acts of tenderness is followed by crimes of passion. oscar strips lando's torso and grabs the first aid kit. sometimes lando forgets that oscar was one the medic for their little rag-tag group before oscar was thrust into the spotlight as the boss. his touches were tender, his voice soft.

"lando.. shh. shh." as he carefully mended lando back together. lando couldn't have been more grateful in that moment. he even got a strong superscription of kisses when oscar finished putting the last of the bandages on.

lando watches oscar dump all of the bloodied gauze and anti-septic wipes in the trash. then oscar is at his side once more, knelt down beside the couch with lando's face in his hands.

"did i do well, boss? papaya rules?" he asks cheekily, the code word for their work all those years ago.

oscar is careful when he presses his forehead up against lando's, his voice remains soft. it makes him appear so much younger, barely twenty four and he had more power than a small deity, "i'm happy you're alive." then kisses lando on the lips.

passion runs like a current between the both of them. the thumping of hearts as oscar kisses down lando's side until he reaches the dirties jeans he wore. he places a hand over the bulge in the denim.

"only you could be aroused at a time like this."

"only if it's you." and lando nearly jumps out of his skin when oscar takes his cock out of his pants. then kisses the tip.

such a powerful man, on his knees beside his lover. that lover's cock in his mouth. in a complete act of submission. but oscar took care of his own, and he especially took care of lando piastri.

[seecarrun]

Eleven years.

Misty had made it eleven freaking years without Gary Oak finding out about her crush on Ash, all for Tracy and his big mouth to ruin it in four point two seconds.

She wasn’t sure how he didn’t figure it out himself, honestly. Pallet Town grew its boys to be cute but dumb she supposed, and that had been just fine with her, but now with the meowth officially out of the bag, it was time to make sure the secret didn’t spread any further than it had already.

“Wait, you like Ash?!” Gary exclaimed at what could only be described as the top of his freaking lungs. “Like, like-like?! Does he know?”

“No!” she hissed, checking over her shoulder to check that Ash was still down in the basement getting that bottle of wine his mom asked him to fetch for her. “And I’d like to keep it that way, so shut up!”

“You didn’t know?” Tracy asked Gary, wincing as he realized he had spilled the beans. “I’m sorry Misty, I wouldn’t have said anything if—”

“If it wasn’t so obvious?” Brock interrupted dryly. “She doesn’t exactly do a great job at hiding it.”

Gary made a face crossing his arms in a huff. “I’m sorry, I didn’t exactly travel around with the world with them like you guys did, and some of us have more important things to focus our attention on than a friend’s little school-girl crush.”

“Oh my Arceus, can we please stop talking about this?!” Misty cried, the desperation clear in her voice.

“Stop talking about what?”

Misty spun around, coming face to face with a confused Ash Ketchum, looking at all of them like he was hurt they would even think to have a conversation in his absence, and paled. Shit. “Nothing,” she answered immediately, silently praying to the pokegods that the guys wouldn’t do or say anything stupid.

Unfortunately, Gary, despite his lukewarm redemption, was still, at his core, an absolute bastard. “We were talking about the person Misty’s in looove with,” he sang, and Misty could have committed murder right then and there.

Ash, bless him, turned to her in surprise, his brown eyes suddenly wide as saucers. “You’re in love with someone?”

“No—!”

“Yup!” Gary chirped, cutting her off. “She was just telling us how dreamy they are. How she wants them to ask her on a date and be her boyfriend.”

Misty glared at him with all the intensity she had and grit her teeth. “I did not say any of that.”

Ash looked around at all of them, frowning, and finally settled on Misty. “Who is it?”

“No one!”

“Don’t worry, Ash,” Gary jumped in, because apparently he wasn’t quite done ruining Misty’s life just yet, “I didn’t know either until Tracy and Brock told me.”

“What the heck, Misty?!” Ash exclaimed, offended. “Why do they get to know and I don’t?”

Misty gaped at him, then at Gary, and finally Brock and Tracy, who were sitting there doing nothing, by the way, and then back to Ash, her face reddening with every passing moment. Finally, her mind went blank, and her mouth, without her brain’s permission, blurted out, “I didnt tell them anything, they figured it out themselves!”

Ash turned to Brock and Tracy for confirmation, who shrugged and nodded, respectively. He narrowed his eyes, that look of determination that Misty usually loved, but in this case was creating some uneasy squirming in the pit of her stomach, creeping over his face. “Well, if that’s the case,” he declared, smirking at Misty, “I guess I’ll just have to figure it out too.”

“Great,” she said wearily.

Eleven. Years.

She was going to kill Gary.

[spinstertheuncommon]

Gotham's Sewist - A Bachelor's Suit [Part 1/2] | Bruce Wayne x reader

Tiz - a gender neutral version of ma'am/sir

Timeline: Reader and B are 27

Notes: swearing, reader crashes out, bruce might be out of character but hoe hum this is for fun

+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+

"what has gotten you so gloomy?"

"heh?" you half ass a response, too transfixed in mending a 8 inch hole in the cape. a magnifying glass sits attached to a desk arm, with your nose practically pushed against it. you bought it on a whim in college but it's been the best investment you've ever made. behind you, you hear the batman shuffle, always alert, and never one for your short answers. for a world class detective, he needs a lot of answers from me. can't he just sniff them out like a blood hound?

"you're tired. your shoulders are tense, you have been using your cane more often, which would normally lead you into going to the physical therapist but you haven't been there in over a month. Your avoiding it, which you do when you're stressed. you haven't left your studio in a week, as your biking boots are still covered in the same water damage from Mr freezes attack last Thursday, supplementing my concern further as you always pride in taking care of your gear. so i ask again, why?"

shit, maybe he doesn't need the questions. maybe he's board of my silence.

you heave a sigh, flinging back in your chair, needle discarded. rolling your head to face the bat, you've come to expect no concern or emotion in his face; it's only in his actions.

"you really wanna know? yeah? okay, my rent has gone up, and so has the cost of fabric. i can't possibly charge any of my clients more than i am because most of them who come here do it for a luxury and not a necessity, other than you and the alley kids, but you already pay me too much, and i'm never charging those kids anything. the stores front window, while yes it was smashed two weeks ago, still needs to be re-repaired because the guy who did it was cheap as and couldn't tell his head from his ass. can't believe i paid him, honestly. AND more so, my meds have stopped working and of course i can't get anything stronger because healthcare is non-existent for everyone but the wealthy, and that Mr freeze attack has caused every bone in my legs to seize up on top of the stress, so yes. i'm tired. and yes, I'm stressed, and ON TOP OF THAT there's this historical garment collection tour coming to Gotham in a few months that i really want to go to but i will never be able to afford a ticket..." your words slow, eyes full of water. the bat doesn't move for a moment, studying how close you are to crumbling. he then inches forward, and places a gloved hand on your shoulder.

"you're okay. it will be okay."

you crumble into his side, still sitting in the chair. since loosing physical connections with all your college friends after they moved cities, you forget how much you crave touch. never big, something small like a hand on a shoulder, or a light hug could send you careening into an unhealthy attachment with a person.

and what's more unhealthy to attach to than a man you don't even know the name of.

++2 weeks later++

low rent prices or a safer business area.

you picked the former.

look, moving was going to be about prioritizing your safety, but right now your income is only stable enough to support a storefront in a cheaper part of Gotham. so, you packed up and moved from crime alley to...

Bowery.

yeah... not really better, but it's cheap.

but do you know what's not cheap?

super fine pure wool. this wall of bolts was so massive, it needed it's own rolling ladder every six meters across. you felt swamped, both physically and mentally. each bolt of wool pulls you in, the only anchor you have is your cart, already weighted by the silk lining you've chosen, and the check in your pocket, one signed by the richest, most eligible man in Gotham.

bruce wayne.

you still don't think it's real. how would he know who i am? did the batman x Bruce Wayne fanfics actually have merit? my only other customers besides the bat were regular ass people and that one time a guy wanted two suits sewn together. that and the kids in crime alley i dress for free, but they're not really clients. so...who? was Bruce's child, Dick Grayson, one of the kids? i think I'd recognise him...

you still feel numb from the first phone call two weeks ago. answering it with all the professionalism you had in your body at 4:56pm on a Friday, you had a full system reboot when the man on the other line confirmed for the 7th time that he was in fact, the Bruce Wayne, instead of the prank caller you assumed he was.

i mean, why would Bruce fucking Wayne be calling me, a 27 year old, barely surviving sewist with no real display of my work, to make him, and his child, suits for a high priced gala?

so hear you are, having a conniption about what wool and silks to buy that would match the vague descriptions Bruce gave you over the phone.

this will be a long 3 months.

++one month down++

it was strange. you'd think that working for new clientele would alleviate the repetitive funk you've found yourself in. new faces, and new personalities, even if they were rich socialites with no inherit grounds to share with them. but that's fine, you don't need to be friends with your clients.

but no. this felt violently familiar.

despite standing in the most expensive room you've ever stepped foot in, running circles around the brick wall of a man that is Bruce Wayne, as a young boy and kind butler watch on, you couldn't help being swarmed with deja vu. it felt like wading water, pinning the muslin, double checking the flushed fit of the 3 piece suit that was asked of you, and measuring the span of his upper back almost made you panic.

he's got the same shoulders as batman.

gotta love a coincidence... right?

and... fuck me, is this Richard kid the same hight as Robin? oh my god ohmygodohmygod-

"Tiz, are you okay?"

"huh? oh sorry, sorry, yes, just... doing calculations in my head, i'm fine," you shuffle, cheeks dusted red after being called out. "i do think i have everything, though, so i can leave. Sir, please be careful taking off the muslin, i wouldn't want a pin in you."

Bruce chuckles, and you fear your cheeks will never cool down. You distract yourself by folding and refolding the mock up for Richard, or Dick as he insisted you called him. Whatever the kid wants I suppose.

said kid had a vibe you never really expected. it's not like you're in the dark to who Richard Grayson is. the amount of articles about this kid and the death of his parents, and then eventual adoption, could light a fire and fuel it for a month. it made you sick at the time, all the talk about it felt like tragedy porn. you couldn't even imagine what a kid was thinking about it. but from the look of things, nothing can stop this kid.

"how long would it take to make my suit? do you think it'll look good? i want it to be green, or maybe purple!" Dick jumped along the couch he was on, attentively not hopping off the couch, as the first few times he tried to see what you were doing, he got a stern look from Bruce. he was then told that if he wanted to stay, he had to stay on the couch.

"you already picked out your colour, champ. you're going in blue, remember?" Bruce, in just a dress shirt and compression pants, that made his ass look fantastic, went over and scooped up the 13 year old like he was nothing, and bundled him under his arm like a football. god, his smile is blinding, i get what all the gossip's about, he is smoking.

"Let me escort you to your vehicle," Alfred snapped you out of your daze, steering you away from the father and son with a gentle hand towards the door. and what an extravagant door it is. the mahogany wood sits inside the most extravagant stained glass arch, adorned with roses and antique gold solder, that perfectly matches the gold furnishings on the door. the same furnishings that mirror the fountain in the middle of the drive. The marble stairs that link the door to the driveway are so dramatic, you want to flounce around on them like meg from Hercules.

Stepping back from your daydream, you thank Alfred for holding your bag as you shuffle on your safety gear of a jacket and helmet. Before you turned on the bike, Alfred calls your name and pulled a card from his breast pocket.

“I hope you know there is no obligation, but Master Bruce and Master Dick wish for you to attend the gala that you’ve been making their suits for.” you take the invite, a little star struck. the card, the size of a business card, has embossed grooves over it and delicate gold leafing to resemble hemmed stitches, but it's the address that perked your interest.

"i-its at the Gotham historical fashion exhibit?" your eyes shone, practically in tears. oh my god i'm so glad he can't see under my visor, im crying about a invite.

"Master Bruce has an appreciation for all art forms, and takes any and all chances to highlight it. he believes that more eyes should see the pieces, and if he has to host a party, well, lets say he wouldn't mind." Alfred carries a twinkle in his eyes, one of pure childish wonderment, but there's a hint of something you couldn't quite place. was it pride? a secret? you couldn't tell. all you knew is you had an all expenses paid trip to the most decked out fashion collection and come hell or high water you were going.

"tell him thank you, then, i've been dying to see this exhibit."

"no thanks needed, this is payment in kind, along side the money of course. now drive safe, we wouldn't want you unavailable for the gala."

with a nod, you pull out of the Wayne Manor drive, and spend the next 20 minute drive to your studio giddy.

holy shit i need an outfit.

(To be Continued...)

+++++++++++

My next chapter for this should reasonably be split into 2 instead of stay one, but idk if I can be bothered, so the next chapter will be looong tehe!

Helloo!

So the fanfic curse is real lol. The last one I posted was my first ever post and the literal day after was a real shit show that I can't actually talk about lmaoo

See y'all nextime!

Spinster

Do not copy, steal, or repost my work! Thanks!

[munsonsmixtapes]

Let it Simmer

line cook!Igor x waitress!reader

You and Igor work at a diner together and you have no idea that he’s just as head over heels for you as you are for him.

cw: MDNI (18+) smut (p in v) unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it) public sex, mention of blood, xenophobia, reader almost passes out

This is once again in collaboration with @the-witty-pen-name!! Go check her out if you haven’t already!

You open the back door to the diner, hurrying to clock in as you tie your apron. Your earbuds are blasting your playlist that’s supposed to pump you up, but it doesn’t seem to be working. Today just doesn’t seem to be your day.

Not only was your shift at the grocery store down the street cut two hours but also one of your contacts fell down the drain so you were forced to wear your glasses that you only put on at the end of the day. They aren’t meant for anyone to see.

You hide your face as you hear one of your coworkers moving around the kitchen. You know who it is just by the footsteps and don’t want him to see you like this. It’s embarrassing, the big frames sitting on your face like that.

Just your luck, he passes by to head to the sink which just happens to be right by the clock on station. He’s washing his hands and turns to you to give you his signature warm smile.

He stays looking at you while he washes his hands and you turn away, feeling your cheeks heat. You’ve been crushing on him for months and now you’re concerned that he doesn’t feel that way about you. Not that it’d be easy to tell anyway since he’s a man of few words.

He’s so hard to read and it both fascinates and frustrates you. He seems so mysterious which is hot, but at the same time, you just want to get to know him but he doesn’t really seem to want to open up to you.

All you really want to know is whether or not he’d like to get dinner but you can’t get yourself to ask. There’s something about him that’s unapproachable and intimidating but you think that for whatever reason, he wants to seem that way.

He finishes washing his hands as you put on your apron, making sure all of the proper things are inside and just when you think he’s going to head back to his station, he continues to look at you, pointing at his face and giving you a thumbs up.

“My glasses?” You ask and he nods with an adorable smirk.

“Yes. Very…ugh.” You notice that he gets frustrated easily when he can’t remember English words. His face lights up, though, when he does remember. “Pretty.” Is all he says before turning on his heel to head back to the stove.

Pretty? He thinks you’re pretty. You already know you’re going to think about this for days. The word replaying in your head in his adorable accent. You hate this. Having a crush on someone who barely even pays you any mind. He pays you the smallest compliment that means the world to you while he couldn’t give less of a fuck about it. Sometimes you wish he would just tell you to fuck off so you could get over him.

His back is to you now, so you can’t see the smile that’s spread across his face. You can’t see the nervousness he feels, trying to come across as nonchalant. He doesn’t let himself say anything further- you’re at work, and he doubts you want to be hit on in the middle of your shift. He doesn’t want to make you uncomfortable. He assumes any advance would be unwelcome- he doesn’t want to be that guy. The line cook who hits on one of the servers. But god, does he want to ask you out.

He will never admit it, but seeing you is what he looks forward to most when he comes back to work each night. He needs to hide the blush that forms on his face when you ring in a ticket with just a smiley face, your own way of subtly asking for an order of free fries. He always obliges, he could never say no. The way your eyes light up when he hands you the plate? He’ll never get sick of it. He’ll sneak you as many free fries as you want.

He’ll also never admit that he thinks about you even when he’s not at work. You take up every inch of his brain and he finds himself thinking about what you’d be doing if you were right next to him. When he makes dinner for himself and his grandmother every night, he wonders if you’d like the dishes. If you’d make conversation with her like you do with all of your coworkers. Giggling at something funny you’d say because you always seem to make yourself laugh. He really likes that about you.

And maybe sometimes he lies awake at night because all he can think about is what it would feel like to have you wrapped up in his arms. He wants to bury his face into your neck and breathe in your scent, holding you close to assure that he’s not dreaming. What he would give to be able to do unspeakable things to you, to have you in every position imaginable as he-

“Igor!” He hears a voice, one of the other line cooks calling his name and from the way it’s spoken, he can tell it’s been said many times. He turns to Aubrey and she’s holding his hand, blood dripping from his middle finger. Well, that’s the last time he daydreams while chopping vegetables.

“I’ll clean this up, you go get cleaned up.” His mind is fuzzy as he nods, holding his finger as tight as he can, trying his best to not watch the blood. He’s never liked looking at it. It makes him feel sick, woozy. So he hurries to the sink as fast as he can to wash his hands yet again.

The cut is deep and he can’t even see if he’s washed off all of the blood because he just can’t look at it. The whole thing makes him sick to his stomach and he even goes as far as closing his eyes, shutting them tight because the soap is burning.

He knows that he probably (definitely) looks stupid, but he can’t help it. It’s not like you’re just going to waltz in and help him, even though that’s what he really wants. He wants you to baby him, knowing that will make him feel better.

As if you sense Igor’s need for you, you enter the kitchen, standing right next to the sink as you grab some lemons for one of the tables, cursing under your breath about how rude they were to you. You happen to catch sight of Igor as you pass and let out a chuckle at how goofy he looks, his eyes shut tight as he faces you. He’s always so serious so it’s amusing to see him like this.

“What are you doing?” You ask and his eyes are wide open and he gasps, stepping away from you, clearly in his own little world, having no idea that you were standing so close to him.

“Washing my hands,” he replies, pressing himself against the wall and you catch sight of his finger that has a huge chunk missing.

“Igor,” you gasp and reach for his hand, bringing his middle finger closer to your face so that you can get a better look at it. “What happened?”

“I cut it.”

“Yeah, no shit. But how?”

“Was too caught in my head and I chopped my finger instead of carrot.”

“Here, let me help you.” You keep holding his hand as you reach above you for the first aid kit. Once you have it, you set it on the sink and rifle through it before grabbing what you need. He sees you opening an alcohol pad and shakes his head furiously.

“No.” Is all he says and you feel bad for laughing but seeing this side of him is so goddamn adorable.

“Baby, we have to.” Baby, god. He’ll do whatever you want if you keep calling him that. He just slumps his shoulders and closes his eyes as he feels the wet cloth touch his skin, wincing at the feeling as you apologize again and again. “Okay, you can open your eyes. Bad part’s over.”

He does as you say even though you both know he doesn’t believe you then take some of the antibacterial gel and put it on the cut before wrapping it up in a bandaid. To finish it off, you press a kiss to it, watching his cheeks turn bright pink as you do so.

“Alright, you’re all set,” you pat his shoulder and turn on your heel like you didn’t do the one thing that’s going to live in his head rent free for the rest of his life. You kissed him. Well, his finger. But it still counts in his mind. And it even left behind some of your lipstick that he spent far too long staring at.

How can he go back to work after this? How can he move on after experiencing the sweetest thing that’s ever happened to him? He can’t believe that this is his life and that he actually exists at the same time as you. But of course he just has to crush on the girl who only flirts with him because it’s part of the job. Part of him wishes that it was genuine because then maybe he’d flirt back. But he supposes he should just stop complaining and take what he can get.

You grab your lemons and Igor is so close to asking for another kiss but decides against it. He’s still afraid of coming off like a creep and he doesn’t want to start now when he’s only gotten a sliver of what he’s been wanting for months. He’s wondering about just how much flirting he can get away with because he just wants you to know that this whole thing isn’t one sided.

Because after that you surely have to have feelings for him too, right? Not many people would do that kind of thing for him, but he’s wondering if he’s just reading too much into the interactions you’ve shared. The winks through the window, the fries, the little inside jokes you’ve made on occasion.

But he doesn’t do anything else, he just lets you walk back out as he goes back to chopping, trying his best to pay attention to his task so he doesn’t hurt himself again. He almost passed out at the sight of the blood so he’s sure he really would collapse if he saw more blood.

You head back out into the seating area feeling like such an idiot. Why did you kiss his finger? You were already crossing his boundaries by helping him without asking and then you let your want, your need to kiss him take over and settled for his finger instead of his lips. And now he probably thinks you’re a freak and you’re back to square one.

You wait on your tables and feel your cheeks burn as you bring your tickets to the window, not being able to look Igor in the eye. He must sense that you’re upset because you see him set a plate with a large pile of fries onto the counter and just by the size of the plate and the little ketchup smiley face on the edge of the plate, you just know that they’re for you.

You look up and he’s sporting his signature smirk as he flips the hamburger he’s got in his pan. You set them to the side and figure you’ll just eat them later even though they won’t be good. As much as you want to take your much deserved break, you know that Todd will look at the time clock and see that you clocked out for your lunch too early. So you just continue to serve your tables and try not to think about how hungry you are or when the last time you ate was.

You start to feel a little lightheaded but ignore it and try your best to ignore how much your stomach is growling. You have a job to do. But as you continue moving around the diner, you progressively get weaker, your legs feeling like jello.

When you come into the kitchen to get drinks for the table that just showed up, your knees buckle and Igor can immediately tell that you’re not feeling well. His current task is abandoned and he rounds the counter, heading for the drink station where you're standing. The drink you’re filling one of the cups with is overflowing and Igor quickly moves it to the side before turning you around to face him.

You almost look sick and just by hearing your stomach growl loudly, he immediately knows what you need. He picks you up and sets you on the counter since he knows you can’t stand then wordlessly hands you a bowl that’s filled with spaghetti. You’ve been talking about how you’ve been craving it for days and seeing that Igor went out of his way to make it for you makes you want to cry.

“Igor-”

“Thank me later. Eat.” He points to the bowl and you do as he says, slowly twirling the spaghetti around the fork before putting it into your mouth. He watches you look around for Todd, clearly on high alert until you feel Igor’s hand on your shoulder. “Don’t worry about him.”

“Of course you would say that. He loves you, meanwhile he always wants to make my life a living hell.” Igor knows all about that and has had private conversations with Todd about you on multiple occasions, telling him to dial it back or else he’ll quit. But that never goes over well since Todd always waves him that it’s none of his business and then says something xenophobic that would definitely get him fired if anyone else heard him. But Igor refuses to let Todd get to him.

He doesn’t tell you that Todd actually tolerates Igor and only ever pats him on the back when you’re around because he knows just how important you are to the diner and all of the regulars. And if he loses you, he’s going to lose so much money. If it had been up to him, he would have fired Igor a long time ago.

You eat your spaghetti as Igor gets back to work, occasionally checking on you, his cheeks burning every time you compliment him, telling him that this is the best spaghetti you’ve ever had. His food gets complimented all the time but hearing it from you, it makes him feel all warm and gooey inside.

Being around you makes him feel like himself. Even though he’s hiding it from you, he still appreciates how warm and welcoming you are. You’re so sweet to him and always treat him like a normal person despite how much he struggles with English.

-

The next week, there’s two girls who take seats at the counter and you recognize them almost immediately. They had come in last weekend during a lunch rush and held up a table for hours and then didn’t leave you a tip. You try your best to put on your best customer service smile as you walk behind the counter with a couple of menus. You greet them politely and ask if you can get them drinks. You’re ignored so you say you’ll be back in a minute.

From across the dining room, you can see them huddled close together talking- giggling hushed whispers. You can’t prove it, but it’s one of those things that you can just tell immediately what they’re doing. The girl on the right, points to the kitchen and your gaze follows where she’s pointing. Your heart drops when you see they’re talking about Igor.

Irrational jealousy bubbles up inside you, not wanting this girl to be interested. You have no right to be upset. As far as you know, Igor is single and can date whoever he wants. It’s not really your business. However, it still stings. Returning back to them, you grab your drink orders and head back to get them their coffees.

“You have a fan club out there,” you joke to Igor, who you seem to have broken his own train of thought. His brow furrowed in confusion. “That girl,” you say, being discreet, “the one sitting at the counter with her friend- I think she’s into you.”

“Oh,” Igor says, monotone. He couldn’t have been more disinterested. He doesn’t even pay them any mind, continuing to prep the meals for another table. He’s completely in his own world when he’s focused in the kitchen.

You’re pleased when it seems like he doesn’t care, but then you worry that he’s just trying to play it cool. Maybe he is actually interested in her but doesn’t want to talk about it with you. You try your best to let it go, and try to not compare yourself to her.

“What’s his deal?” The girl asks you, biting her lip. It makes your stomach tie in knots. You want to slam the window of the kitchen shut so they can stop staring at him.

“The cook?” You ask, stuttering a little- surprised they’re asking you about him so directly. She nods, staring past you to look at him. You could scream.

“Mhm,” she muses.

“Um, I’m not really sure,” you say. “Do you guys want to order something to eat?”

“Him, preferably,” she jokes and you cringe as her friend giggles. When you don’t laugh, they just order some sandwiches and you ring in their ticket. When they leave, she leaves a note on the receipt, asking you to give him her number. Great.

“Here,” you say, trying to hide your hurt as you hand Igor the receipt paper. His eyes narrow as he doesn’t even notice the note at first.

“They tipped like shit,” he muses, sympathizing with you. He hates that people don’t always appreciate you or your work. He doesn’t even realize that you’re trying to show him something else. It’s been a long shift and he’s overtired.

“Oh, yeah,” you say, surprised- you hadn’t even thought to see what they had tipped. “No, but here,” you point to the note on the bottom. “It’s for you.”

Igor squints, trying to read the handwriting. His expression remains neutral. He shrugs, and crumbles it up and throws the note away. “You already rang it in right?” He asks, and you nod dumbly. “Then I don’t see the problem.”

“What about the number?” You ask, trying not to seem too happy that he tossed the receipts away without a care in the world.

“Who cares?” He shrugs. “It’s just a number and she’s not my type.”

“Then what is your type?” You’re surprised at how bold you’re being considering you’ve been more shy around him tonight.

“Why do you care?” He’s getting frustrated now because all he wants to do is go home and not have this weird back and forth with you. He can’t tell you that you’re his type.

“Oh, I don’t.” You’re both clocking out now and he stands next to you, patiently waiting for you to be done because the other screen is, of course, down yet again.

“Then why did you ask?” You know exactly why you asked but are too afraid to tell him. You don’t know why, though. Maybe telling him the truth would prevent the headache it’s caused you.

“I don’t know.” That’s all you’re able to say and then the two of you are silent as you head towards the back door, Igor making sure to lock up behind you before escorting you to your car. You pull your keys out of the purse then turn around to face Igor who’s still standing there, his hands stuffed into his pockets.

What’s stopping you from being honest? Sure, it may make things awkward between you, but at the same time, you’d rather have that than push down your feelings again and again.

So you step closer to him, tilting your head upwards to look him in the eye. He doesn’t know what you’re doing, but he likes being able to see your face up close. He loves being able to see every single detail and you’re cute little glasses. He thinks he prefers them.

“I like you,” you tell him, your heart now pounding in your chest. “I like you a lot and I know you probably don’t feel the same way-”

“Stop,” he puts his hand up and you’re so close to crying, terrified that he’s going to reject you and that your weird little friendship will be put to a stop. “What are you talking about?”

“Come on, Igor,” you roll your eyes. “We both know you don’t have feelings for me, so you can stop-” You’re not even able to finish your sentence because he’s got you pinned against the car, his body flush against yours as he presses his lips to yours in a searing kiss.

You gasp into his mouth but are quick to catch up, kissing him back with the same amount of longing and passion. It’s months of pent of feelings poured into the kiss, everything you’ve wanted to say but haven’t had the guts to.

He pulls away just a tad, his thumb running back and forth along your jaw. You just stare at him, almost dumbfounded by what just happened. You never thought this would ever be your reality so you just need a minute to sit with it.

“I hope that proved you wrong,” he whispers and you grab onto his hips, pulling him even closer.

“I don’t know, I think I need a little more,” you reply, pulling him in again for another kiss. This one is more gentle, slower, like you both are trying to savor it because you’re not sure when you’re going to share another one.

Igor pulls away again far too soon and presses his forehead against yours, trying to catch his breath again.

“Have dinner with me.” It’s less of a demand and more like him pleading. He wants this so badly, more than he’s ever wanted anything.

“Like a date?”

“Something like that,” he shrugs but you know what he means.

“Perfect. I’ll cook for you.” He’s never had your cooking so he’s looking forward to it.

“How about next week?” He’s trying to give you space. He doesn’t want to come on too strong.

“How about tomorrow?” He can’t help but smile at the fact that you can’t wait.

“We have to work,” you remind him and for a second, he completely forgot, just looking forward to seeing you outside of that tiny diner.

“After that.”

“It’s a date,” he winks and gives you one more kiss before turning on his heel and making his way towards his own vehicle, not being able to keep the smile off of his face because for once, he finally got the girl.

-

God why did you think you could do this? Sweat is making your hair stick to your forehead and your glasses keep fogging up as you glance into the pot trying to stir. The tutorial online made it look so easy, you thought this time you’d have luck and not burn something for once in your life. You’re up to your elbows in the mess you’ve made for yourself and you’re starting to feel defeated.

Igor told you so many anecdotes of his grandmother teaching him how to cook as he was growing up. You wanted to make something really special, so you tried to look up one of the meals he’d mentioned in passing. The blog made it seem somewhat doable but now you’re not so sure as you're fanning a towel above your head to prevent the smoke detector from going off.

You hear the buzzer go off. He’s here. Fuck. Reluctantly, you hurry over to the box on the wall to open the front door for him. You wipe your forehead and glance back over to the mess in your kitchen. You feel like you could cry. This is not at all how you imagined tonight would go at all. You knew it wouldn’t be perfect- but at least edible would have sufficed.

When you answer the door, Igor immediately can tell you’re holding back tears. Without even needing to ask he places the flowers he brought you on your entry table and takes your hands. He looks so concerned and it’s so endearing that it’s enough to make one of the tears fall, despite your best attempt to hold them back.

“What’s wrong?” He asks, scanning your face to make sure you’re not hurt. He steps over the threshold and he can smell the burnt smell coming from your kitchen.

“I’m so sorry,” you say meekly as he surveys the kitchen. The messily chopped onions, the open bottle of wine, the spilled can of tomato paste, the burnt lamb you tried to grill… when he realizes what you’re doing, it makes his heart flip.

“Were you making Khorovats?” He asks, unable to hold back his smile. You nod, not able to meet his eye. He doesn’t hesitate to pull you against his chest. No one has ever done something this thoughtful and despite not having dinner, he feels like the absolute luckiest guy in the world. His first task is to comfort you, and he rubs your back. He reaffirms that everything is okay.

“Hey, hey,” he says gently, tilting your chin up to look at him. You take a few shaky breaths as your eyes meet his. “You’re… you’re wonderful,” he whispers and then kisses your lips softly- just a small peck. “Let me help you.”

He guides you over to one of the stools by your kitchen island and has you take a seat. Like he’s been to your apartment a million times before, he finds the wine glasses with ease and pours you a glass. You watch him maneuver around your kitchen effortlessly, and he’s able to salvage something from the ingredients you hadn’t used yet.

“I really wanted to cook for you,” you say defeatedly, as you calm down. He’s always cooking at work, and you wanted to cook for him- so he wasn’t for once. Yet, here he is, on your first date doing the one thing you wanted to give him a break from. He just looks back at you, with a smile on his face.

“You’re cute,” he says, sincerely. It makes your face feel so flushed and you feel butterflies in your stomach at his compliment. It’s so simple, but it’s coming from him. You finally let yourself enjoy the moment, and watch him as he seems to throw everything together so effortlessly.

“No one has done this for me,” he continues, gesturing to the messy kitchen. To him, as much as you're embarrassed, it’s just a sign of your effort and hard work. You did all of this- found the recipe, bought the ingredients, prepared them as best you could for him. He’s just so touched by the gesture regardless of the outcome. He can’t even remember telling you about this dish, but you remembered. “It’s amazing,” he marvels.

“I literally almost set my apartment on fire,” you say, hiding your face in your hands. It makes him chuckle.

“Come on,” he insists, “give yourself some credit.”

He puts a plate together for you and you thank him. The two of you move to your small dining table, and he notices you set up with some tapered candles, like a fancy restaurant would. Everything you’ve done to try to make the night perfect just makes his heart swell. He finds you so sweet.

For so long, Igor was convinced that he was destined to be alone and just when he was giving up on love completely, you swept him off his feet, making him feel like he never has before. You’re one of the only people who truly understands him, who lets him be himself and for the first time in his life, he doesn’t feel like he has to wear his mask.

-

You and Igor are closing with each other yet again. It’s been the third night this week and you’re nothing but happy about it, always looking forward to getting even more alone time with your new boyfriend. You can’t believe it. He’s your boyfriend now. You thought you’d spend the rest of your time at the diner pining for him and when he kissed you in the parking lot, you were sure that you were dreaming for just a second. It wasn’t until he put his lips on yours that you realized that it was all real.

And now that you’re alone, he’s not shy about being affectionate as you wipe down the counters together. And maybe the entire thing takes you a little too long because of all of the giggling and kissing but it’s not like anyone is there to stop you. Everyone including Todd went home hours ago and now you’re sitting on the counter, Igor standing in between your legs as he kisses you like hasn’t been doing just that the moment the two of you were alone.

His hands are sliding up your bare thighs, getting under your uniform as he licks into your mouth, leaning forward as you lie back against the counter. You moan into his mouth and as his tongue moves against yours, your hands grabbing onto his shirt. He kisses his way down to your neck, your exposed chest, slowly, gently unzipping your uniform as his lips find yours again.

His hand slips into your uniform, giving one of your breasts a squeeze and you whine as he does so, caught off guard by the feeling. But it feels so good. You wonder if it’s just because you haven’t been touched by him in so long but you know it’s really because it’s him and he always seems to know what you want without even having to ask.

“So fucking pretty,” he says through ragged breaths.

“You haven’t even-seen me naked,” you suck in a breath that break up your sentence as he bites down on your neck.

“Doesn’t matter.” His breath is hot on your skin but you can still feel goosebumps rising on your arms. “You’re always pretty.” He bites down again and your nails dig into his back as you let out another moan, your panties now absolutely drenched.

He’s unbuckling his pants in a flash as you remove your underwear, neither of you even thinking about proper protection, but just wanting, needing to have him inside of you or you’re sure you’re both going to explode.

You don’t even get the chance to see his cock before it slides inside, the loudest moan falling from your lips at the sheer size of him. It hurts so bad because of your inactivity, but it also just feels so good.

He’s pumping hard and fast, making the metal counter shake back and forth, the legs knocking loudly against the floor, the whole thing squeaking as it moves, but neither of you seem to care, too engrossed in each other to even pay attention.

“Fuck,” you whine as he’s progressively getting further inside, inch by inch, practically tearing you apart. Your legs wrap around his waist as you pull his shirt off, needing to get your hands on his bare skin. You need to scratch it up to show him exactly what he’s doing to you.

He pushes everything aside as he lays you down onto the counter, vegetables now inedible and various condiment bottles and spices now spilled out all over the floor, but Igor doesn’t care. Being here with you, having you spread on the counter like an all-you-can eat buffet is so going to be worth whatever is going to be taken out of his paycheck.

Your uniform is fully open now, the zipper of it clicking against the counter as Igor continues to fuck into you, his nails digging into your thighs, making tiny crescent shapes that you know will stay there for days. You don’t seem to mind, though. He can make you bleed for you all you care. You just want him to continue to make you feel this good.

“That’s a good girl,” he says, his hands now pinning your arms to the counter. “Look at you, taking me-all of me so well.”

You’re close, you can already feel it. It’s climbing but you don’t want him to stop. He’s doing this so well, making you feel like no one else has. He knows exactly what you want-what you need without even having to ask.

“Fuck,” you moan even louder and Igor watches you proudly, a smug smirk making its way upon his face at the mess he’s made of you. With how blissed out you look, he’s already wondering what excuse he’s going to have you both make in order to not have to work tomorrow.

“That’s it,” he says, his voice gentle, soft, almost a whisper. “Just like that, baby.” You’re coming down from your orgasm and he’s worn out, not only from this, but also the shift. He pulls out and pulls up his pants before hurrying over to the sink to get a warm wash cloth before cleaning you up. Your uniform is covered in unspeakable stains so Igor politely loans you his shirt, promising to let you wash it as his place where the two of you inevitably end up.

You’ve never been to his house, always winding up at your place, snuggled up on the couch. You’re giggling as you walk through the door, not even bothering to be quiet and it’s not until one of the lights in the kitchen flicks on there remembers that he doesn’t live alone.

He’s quick to stand in front of you, covering you with his body so his grandmother doesn’t see that you’re wearing his t-shirt and boxers. His cheeks are bright red as she stands on the other side of the kitchen, tsking and shaking her head before turning around to head back to her room, saying something to him in Armenian that you clearly don’t understand.

“What did she say?” You ask and Igor just waves it off.

“Don’t worry about it,” he says, picking you up since he knows you can’t get up the stairs in your condition. “Let’s go to bed.”

Igor carries you up the stairs as if it’s nothing and you’re beginning to think that you’ve underestimated just how strong he is. Of course you wouldn’t know that with his job, but now you’re wondering what he does when he’s not there. How often he goes to the gym, his workout routine. And now you’re getting wet all over again thinking about him lifting weights, sweat rolling down his biceps.

His room is exactly what you imagined. It’s just a bed and his furniture. There’s no decorations or anything that tells you anything about him. But you kind of like it that way. It’s very…Igor.

He helps you into the bed, pulling back the blanket and sheet for you and you slip in, making yourself comfortable as he goes to the other side and gets in, scooting close to you. You turn over on your side and he pulls you to his chest, giving you a squeeze before pressing a kiss to your lips.

“Goodnight,” you say, going in for one more kiss and he just smiles into it.

“Goodnight,” he replies before falling into the best sleep he’s ever had.

-

The next morning, Igor wakes up and you’re not there. He reaches out and runs his hand along your side and it’s cold, meaning that you’ve been up for a while. He gets up and checks the bathroom, but you’re not there. He doesn’t know why, but he’s panicking that you’re not there, hoping that you didn’t leave him in the middle of the night.

But he immediately relaxes when he hears shuffling in the kitchen. He slowly makes his way down the stairs and his heart swells when he hears laughter as he enters the kitchen. You’re sitting at the table with his grandmother, the two of you chatting over breakfast. His face breaks out into a full-on grin when he hears the two of you laughing loudly, heads throwback, expressing nothing but pure joy.

“Igor,” she waves him over from where he’s standing, leaning against the doorframe. “сидеть,” [“sit”] she gestures to the chair that’s across from hers. He makes his way over and stands behind you, pressing a kiss to your cheeks, his hands giving your shoulders a squeeze before he sits at the table.

“You didn’t wake me,” he tells you, the worry back on his face.

“I’m sorry. You just looked so peaceful. And you were snoring so I didn’t think I should.” He feels like his heart is going to burst at how sweet you are to him.

“Don’t apologize. I was just worried.”

“Aww.” You reach over and pinch his cheek which seems to make his grandmother laugh.

“она мне нравится,” [“I like her”] she says, looking back and forth between the two of you. “она хороша для тебя.” [“She is good for you”] “ты кажешься счастливее.” [“You seem happier”]

“я счастливее,” [“I am happier”] he replies, resting his hand on top of yours, his eyes lighting up as he puts on a warm smile.

“Я тоже счастлив,” [“I’m happy too”] you speak up and Igor’s eyes widen. In the entire time that you’ve known him, he’s never heard you speak Russian, didn’t even know that you were fluent.

“You know Russian?” He asks, his eyebrows shooting up in surprise.

“I-well, I learned it to be able to speak to you, but then got too nervous because I got insecure about my accent.” It’s at this moment that Igor is sure that he’s in love with you. That’s the only word he can think of to describe what he’s feeling. No one has ever done anything like that for him and knowing that you were willing to learn his language in order just to speak to him shows him that maybe you love him right back.

“я тебя люблю,” [“I love you”] he says, leaning forward, not even caring that his grandmother is watching because he just really needs to kiss you.

“я люблю тебя еще больше,” [“I love you more”] you reply as he presses his lips to yours, both of you smiling into the kiss before pulling away, nothing but love for each other in your eyes.

“Мое кольцо будет наверху, когда ты будешь готова выйти замуж,” [“My ring is upstairs when you’re ready to get married”] his grandmother comments and the three of you laugh even though you all know there’s a hint of seriousness in your tone.

You spend the rest of the day at his house, the three of you migrating to the couch where they both teach you how to crochet, his grandmother’s Russian program playing on the tv softly in the background.

You don’t go home until after she’s already in bed and even though Igor is going to see you tomorrow at work, he just doesn’t want to say goodbye. You haven’t been together long, but he’s always missing you when you’re not with him and he’s so close to asking you to move in with him. He knows for a fact that his grandmother wouldn’t mind and she even pressures him to ask when he brings up the idea. He asks you a week later and helps you move your stuff in the day after, the two of you so excited to start this next chapter of your lives together.

[jessieren]

More blurry theatre fidgets

Also bonus facepalm giggle moment... if only the guy further along the row was sitting further back...

[ishq-itar]

im tired of watching all the stories

[rafeysbunny]

‧₊˚ ⋅ i'll show you, rafe cameron

stepbro!rafe x fem!reader

masterlist

synopsis. in which your stepbrother kindly offers to show you porn for the first time.

warnings. stepbro!rafe, innocent!reader (but she's not an airhead), virgin!reader, smut, fingering, rafe putting in just the tip, oral sex (fem receiving), rafe licks his own creampie.

word count. 4k.

author's note. idea by @matts1andonly. english isn't my first language so there might be spelling mistakes, don't hold it against me. enjoy!

it's past midnight when you finally slide out of your bedroom without making a sound. you have been waiting patiently for your mom and ward to go to bed so you can do this without risking getting caught. wheezie is already asleep too, sarah is out with john b somewhere, and rafe left the house earlier, not telling anyone where to, so you know he's going to arrive late, as always.

it's the perfect moment.

rafe's room is down the hallway, so you make your way there quietly not to wake anyone, your barefoot feet making soft footstep sounds when you walk. once there, you open the door as carefully as you possibly can, knowing it creaks every time it gets open. this time, thanks to god, it does not.

you manage to sneak into the dormitory unnoticed, then shut the door behind you. the place is dark, only a faint glimmer of moonlight coming in through his curtains, but you want to lay low, so you don't turn on the lights. by all means, the dim lighting is enough for you to spot what you're looking for.

rafe's mac, laying there on his desk.

what's the point behind all of this? you might be wondering. well, let me answer you real quick. turns out, this handsome, muscled college guy has invited you on a date. problem is, you have never been on a date. you haven't even hold hands with a guy romantically before, much less kissed or fucked one. you simply refuse to come off as a prude, which honestly you are, but that dream of a man doesn't need to know that.

and that's why you have decided that it is a good idea to break into your stepbrother's bedroom and borrow his laptop, since yours broke last week, to watch porn in it for the first time.

well, now that you hear it out loud, it probably sounded better in your head. anyways...

you stroll towards the desk with languid steps and sit down on rafe's chair, small hands reaching hesitantly to open the laptop. you turn it on and the screen light illuminates your pretty face right away. you swear your fingers are shaking a little bit as you open up the browser and type 'porn videos' on the search bar.

somehow, you feel like you are doing something wrong, and you can't seem to shake the guilt away. either way, you don't back out. you click the enter button and, after just a few seconds, a million search results pop up. honestly, you don't know where to start, so you click on the first one, which redirects you to a website called pornhub.

the home page is full of videos, the first thing to catch your attention being the obscene thumbnails of each one of them. your cheeks flush a deep shade of red. you read some of the titles as you bite your lip nervously, realising most of them contain the word 'stepsister' in them, and you wonder if that is the only content posted on this page.

how innocent of you not to know that the website is making recommendations based on your stepbro's most searched tag.

before things escalate further, you spot rafe's airpods max sitting there on the desk and decide to grab them, connecting them to the laptop and putting them on —this way you can make sure no one overhears anything. after that, you spend a few more minutes scrolling through the page, during which you discover that there's a ton of categories to choose from.

how are you supposed to know which one to pick?

you are so invested in your little research, headphones canceling the noise, that you don't hear neither rafe opening the front door nor him walking up the stairs and, surely, don't notice him standing behind you until he speaks. and it's too late by then.

"the fuck are you doing, sweetheart?" he blurts, complete and utterly shocked to see his naive stepsister fuckin' watching pornhub.

well shit, maybe you aren't as innocent as he thought you were.

you jolt instantly, jumping out of your seat as you feel all the colour draining from your cheeks. no way rafe just caught you in the act. this can't be real. despite how bad you want to run away, you are left with no other choice but to turn around and face him, wishing the earth would swallow you up.

"i– this is not what it looks like, i swear i can explain," you stutter nervously, taking of the airpods with trembling hands. from here on, the anxious rambling begins, "i wasn't doing anything... this guy– well, i... i uhm– i got a date, 'kay? with this guy from class and– listen, i know this is silly, but..."

"jesus christ, baby, slow down, 'kay?" he stops you, his heart nearly melting from how cute you look, so shy and flustered. he almost feels bad for interrupting whatever the hell you were doing here.

the colour has returned to your cheeks, and you are all flushed now, from head to toe. your face feels like it's on fire; you have never been this embarrassed before.

"could you please start over?" he asks, hoping to hear a coherent explanation to why you are in his room, in the middle of the night, and watching porn on his laptop.

you take a deep breath, fidgeting with the hem of your top. you are so deeply ashamed that you don't seem to remember that you are wearing nothing but a flimsy white singlet and a tiny pair of matching panties. rafe's very aware of that fact, though, hungry eyes trailing all over your beautiful body.

"i've got a date with a guy from class," you start explaining, white teeth nibling occasionally on your plump bottom lip, "but i've never dated anyone, ya' know? i've no experience, and i don't want him to think i'm pathetic if we..."

"fuck?" he finishes your sentence, a roguish grin spreading across his handsome face.

if possible, your blush deepens even more at the vulgarity while you mutter a quiet 'yeah' in response.

honestly, he is a bit jealous of that guy. not only you are willing to let him fuck you, but you are also trying to learn how to do it properly so he has a good time doing it. yeez, what a shame for him he is going to kill him as soon as he finds out who he is; there's no chance rafe's letting you near any other man but him.

"i thought, uhm, maybe watching that would help..." you add coyly, his silence making you more nervous.

it is cute how you try to avoid saying words like 'fuck' or 'porn', like it is a crime to pronounce them or something.

"you know what? let's watch it together," he proposes.

there's a mischievous glint in his eyes that doesn't go unnoticed. you swear your cheeks might just explode at any second, and you can't help the pathetic stutter that comes out when you talk. "uhm, i don't think that'd be appropriate," you refuse, shaking your head.

"why not? you want help, and i can help you here, sweetheart," he answers, his voice surprisingly soft and gentle —unlike rafe, "that's what big brothers are for, aren't they?"

he takes a few steps in his direction until he is standing right beside you. then, he grabs the laptop in his large hands as he flashes you a wicked smirk, his curtain bangs falling messily on his forehead. you gulp, having him so close makes you feel a certain way; you cannot deny that.

"you, uhm, being my stepbrother is exactly why not," you stammer as you tilt your head back to look at him, his height towering over you.

"bullshit," he retorts, huffing. "you trust me?"

your first mistake is, probably, trusting rafe cameron. "yeah, i do, but..."

"that's why 'm perfect for the job, baby," he interrupts you. his words are clearly intended to manipulate you, but you are way too innocent to notice it, "i'm probably the guy you feel most comfortable with, aren't i? i can give ya' all the advice you need."

to be fair, he isn't wrong about that. you don't have any male friends, and you are honestly too embarrassed to ask your girlfriends for help on this department, not wanting them to think less of you. plus, rafe is a guy; he knows better what guys like, right?

"wouldn't it be kinda... weird ?" you ask, clearly hesistant.

"weird?" he repeats. "no, 'course not."

only a few more sweet, reassuring words is all it takes for him to gently coax you into watching his favourite pornos with him. his cock starts to harden in his pants just at the thought of having you like that. when you finally accept, he swears he's on cloud nine.

god, he's been wanting you for months now; he can't believe this is happening.

"c'mere, baby," he eagerly instructs you, getting on his bed.

he sits with his back resting on the headboard and pats the spot between his legs to invite you to sit there. he places the laptop next to him, the pornhub website still open on it. you move slowly towards him, cheeks slightly flushed from the embarrassment as you settle on the mattress in between his parted thighs, your back pressed to his hard chest.

he wraps one strong arm securely around your waist, his hand coming to rest gently on your tummy. with his other hand, he reaches for the laptop sitting beside him, carefully bringing it closer so the two of you can see the screen properly.

your heart is beating so fast in your chest that he can probably hear it, too. the way he is touching you is not making it easier for you to stay calm, either, his fingers tenderly tracing patterns on your belly over the thin fabric of your shirt while he scrolls through the page.

he seems to sense your discomfort and chuckles low in his throat, his warm breath tickling your ear. "relax, sis," he whispers teasingly, his voice laced with amusement. "i'm not gonna make you watch anything that'll traumatize you."

"it's just– this is a bad idea," you babble, fidgeting nervously when he finally clicks on a video and a pretty young woman appears on screen.

the actress is beautiful; she has a gorgeous body and face. her lips are full and pink, and she has these big, expressive eyes that appear to gleam. and you don't realize it, but she looks exactly like you.

the scene starts playing; in it, the girl is watching some movie with a guy that, apparently, is her roommate —at least that's what the title says.

"shhh..." he hushes you softly, his voice barely audible over the sounds emanating from his laptop's speakers. "just watch. don't overthink it."

"okay," you answer between gritted teeth.

your pretty eyes are fixed on the laptop while you try not to cringe at how bad the script and acting are, which is nearly impossible, to be honest. despite that, you keep watching in silence as the video plays, growing more flustered as the clock ticks.

you didn't know mouths could be used for that... interesting.

as opposed to you, rafe's pretty chill behind you, like he's unbothered by this whole situation —he's actually hard as fuck inside his pants, the thing is you haven't noticed. you wonder how he can act so unfazed, since you keep pushing your thighs together to try and soothe the throbbing sensation building in between them while you take in the lewd actions occurring on screen.

you weren't expecting your body to have this reaction, and now you don't know what to do to make it stop.

rafe soon becomes aware of the way you keep letting out soft sighs and squirming in his arms, plush ass rubbing against his cock every time you do it. it's a miracle he is still holding back, though he doesn't know how much time he will be able to.

he's not even paying attention to the video anymore, his entire focus put on you. he finally ventures to lean in, his hot breath grazing the shell of your ear as he whispers, "you know, i could do that to you..." his hand slowly slides to your plush thigh and he gives it a gentle squeeze.

his movements are measured and controlled not to scare you, but your breath hitches in your chest at his actions either way, body tensing up in his grasp. your brain is telling you to push him away, but the insistent throb in your sex doesn't like that idea, not one bit.

"you– you could?" you utter quietly, not taking your eyes away from the laptop.

rafe notices the uncertainty in your voice, but the way you haven't pushed him away yet emboldens him to continue, his large hand gradually sliding north.

"yeah, baby," he murmurs huskily against your ear, fingertips brushing along your inner thigh. "i could put my fingers inside you, just like he's doing to her..."

his words make you blush heavily as a little gasp is released from your pouty lips. "would it feel good?" you ask naively.

your eyes are transfixed in the sight of the guy on the screen pushing his fingers inside the girl's pussy. god, she seems like she's enjoying it so much... and you desperately want to feel like that too. you can't even bring yourself to care that it's your stepbrother offering to show you.

rafe's fingers creep higher and higher until they're barely brushing against your cotton panties. "yeah," he growls huskily against your ear, "it'd feel real good, sweetheart. i promise..."

you shudder, a sweet little mewl escaping your throat involuntarily. you can't help but blush at your own reaction, slightly embarrassed by it. you tear your eyes away from the screen, head falling back against his chest as you look up at him.

"it's throbbing, rafe..." you whine, self-control slipping from your hands. "can you make it better?"

rafe's fingers finally make contact with your wet underwear, pressing against your clit through the fabric. he rubs gentle circles around your sensitive nub, his other hand curling around your supple thigh to spread your legs wider.

"oh, baby, you're soaked through your panties..." he pants out.

your body literally melts into his touch like butter, perfectly shaped brows knitting together in a frown of pleasure. the girl in the video moans, and you do too, both sounds echoing in the silence of his room.

taking your moan as an invitation, rafe carefully hooks his fingers in the gusset of your panties to push them aside, exposing your sopping cunt to the cool air of his bedroom. then, he traces your wet slit slowly, leisurely, as if savoring the velvety feel of your skin.

"such a pretty little pussy..." he praises, eyes hungrily taking in the pink expanse of flesh.

you squirm and let out a soft whimper, biting your lip right after to avoid keep making noises; the last thing you want is to wake up your parents or wheezie. rafe notices your struggle and swiftly reaches up to cover your mouth with his free hand, muffling your sweet moans.

he gathers some of the wetness dripping out of your cunt before trailing his fingers all the way up to your clit, rubbing it gently. your eyes roll back, hips bucking up against his hand instinctively. the way your swollen bud throbs beneath his fingertips is going to make you mad. he begins to touch your clit in fast, tight circles, his other hand still holding your mouth shut to keep you quiet.

he leans in to whisper against your ear, his hot breath sending shivers down your spine, "if you make a sound, i'll stop, got it?"

you nod obediently in response, making your best effort to comply; you don't want him to stop doing this, never. as a reward, rafe slides a thick finger down your slit and presses it against your clenched entry, steadily applying pressure until your tight muscles finally give in and allow his digit ingress.

"so fuckin' tight," he groans under his breath at the feeling of your narrow pussy engulfing his finger.

withdrawing his finger almost all the way out, he teases your entrance with the tip, making you tremble with anticipation before pushing it back in to the knuckle, his palm cupping your mound as he starts to thrust in a smooth, lazy rhythm. you swallow a whiny cry while your eyelids flutter shut, pretty face scrunched in a blissful expression.

rafe works his finger in and out of your slick pussy slowly, marveling at how your velvety walls flutter around the digit. he curls it inward, searching for that special spot that's guaranteed to drive you wild.

after a few experimental pokes, rafe's fingertip finally brushes over your g-spot, eliciting a muffled moan from under his palm. he smiles wickedly against your skin, and you shudder in his grasp, pleasure waves running through your body.

"that's it, sweetheart... feel good?" he croons softly, fingering you nice and deep.

you can't bring yourself to reply, the sensation of his large digit fucking your pussy, added to the constant rubbing of his palm against your puffy clit has your mind feeling all fuzzy. your body language is the only answer he needs, though.

rafe leans in to tenderly nip at your neck, his hot mouth latching onto your slender throat as he keeps pumping his finger steadily in and out of your dripping cunt. he knows you're close when he feels your inner muscles starting to clench erratically around his digit.

"rafe," you moan onto his palm as you feel this new, strange sensation building in your tummy, pussy tingling so nicely.

heaven help him. hearing you, his stepsister, moan his name like that makes rafe's hard dick throb almost painfully against his zipper.

and then it happens. the coil in your belly suddenly snaps and you have to bite onto your lip harshly to keep yourself from screaming as you cum for the very first time, on your stepbrother's hand. rafe continues to pump his finger in and out of your spasming cunt as you ride out your climax, wanting to prolong your pleasure.

when you finally come down from your high, you're all shaky and flustered in his arms, panting heavily to try and catch your breath. he has a satisfied smirk on his lips while he slowly withdraws his slick digit from your quivering hole to bring it up to his mouth and lick it clean, savoring your taste.

"did so well for me, baby," he coos as he uncovers your mouth, gently turning your head to the side to press a kiss to your swollen, red lips.

you return it sloppily, eyes fluttering shut in the process, and you sigh contently against his mouth. he can't help but rock his hips against your ass, rubbing his hard on against you.

"did i make you feel good?" he asks between little kisses, his breathing growing uneven. you nod in response. "yeah? then it's just fair you make me feel good too, sweetheart... wanna do that f'me?"

"yes," you whisper against his lips without even thinking, feeling him smirk into the kiss.

"such a good girl," he praises.

at some point, the porn video playing on his laptop ended, so he simply closes it up and tosses it away, the device landing somewhere on his king size bed. then, he turns you both around, until you are laying on the mattress and he is on top of you.

he is quick to undo his pants and yank them down, just enough to free his raging hard on, which bounces against his abs. let me tell you this, he's big, the tip pink and fat, already leaking precum.

suddenly, realization hits you. this is your stepbrother for god's sake, are you really gonna let him fuck you?

he notices how your body tenses up, one hand reaching to stroke your plush thigh reassuringly while the other wraps around his shaft, giving it a slow pump.

"hey, baby, relax..." he whispers gently, "i'll put just the tip in, yeah? there's nothing wrong with that."

you hesitate. his strong arms slide beneath your legs to tug you closer. then his cock brushes your pussy and you whimper. how are you supposed to say 'no' ?

it's just the tip.

"mhmm, 'kay" you end up agreeing with a little nod.

rafe flashes you a lopsided smirk, his hand gripping his cock again while the free one yanks your panties aside once more. keeping eye contact, he slowly glides the fat head of his dick up and down your drenched slit, coating it thoroughly in your arousal. you shudder as his tip eventually meets your puffy clit, the gentle rubbing sending shivers down your spine.

"rafe," you whimper.

rafe's eyelids droop, a low hum of pleasure escaping his throat as he continues to slowly drag the reddened head up and down your chubby pussy lips with squelching sounds. his breathing grows heavier the longer he teasingly rolls it against your slick folds, reveling in your breathy whimpers. he feels like he's about to burst already, pre-cum steadily leaking from the tip and onto your flesh.

he can't fucking take this anymore.

with a slow, gentle thrust, he sinks his cock into your warm, slippery pussy, just the head breaching your entrance before he pauses, savoring the initial penetration. his eyes lock onto yours, his pupils blown wide with lust.

"jesus, fuck." he grunts.

your cunt starts fluttering around him. he has barely slided the first two inches in, as he promised, but he's so thick that even that feels like a tight fit. you let out a moan, which mingles with a strained groan from rafe as your velvety walls clench tightly around his swollen cockhead.

"gonna– might just nut already, shit" rafe mutters through gritted teeth, fighting the urge to just drive forward and hilt himself deep. "so goddamn tight."

your hips buck unconsciously against his, making him slip in just a tad further —which nearly makes him lose all his self-control. somehow, he manages to keep his shit together, hips rocking slowly to thrust in and out of you while his veiny hand strokes the rest of his shaft.

you're totally enthralled by the sight, liquid heat pooling in your belly while you watch him use your body for his pleasure. he looks so good, you can't believe he's real. your chest fills with pride at the knowledge that you're making this greek god feel good.

this is the fastest rafe has ever cum, the movement of his hips becoming jerky and sloppy after a few minutes as he spills his sperm inside you. he's panting heavily, sweat beading on his brow while his fist squeezes the base of his cock tightly.

you're left wanting more when he slowly pulls out, pussy stretched out and leaking white spurts of cum. he gazes down at you with a smirk, lightly tapping the head of his dick against your swollen clit, which has you writhing beneath him.

"so fuckin' gorgeous stuffed full of my cum," he whispers, his cock smearing the sticky substance all over your slit. you mewl in response. "hmm, 'm sorry for making such a mess on your pretty pussy, sweetheart, lemme clean it up, yeah?"

you blush in response when he leans forward, throwing your creamy thighs over his broad shoulders, to put his mouth onto your sex. you almost cry at the heavenly feeling, his playful tongue delving between your folds to lap up his own release. he cleans you up thoroughly, only to mess you up again right after, his spit soaking your cunt as he makes you cum again.

after tonight, you are cancelling that date, that's for sure.

[m00sebaby]

just having a bit of a ramble dont mind me

[blkkizzat]

❝DIGIMON—BUT MAKING U CUM IS MY REAL HOBBY!❞

⏯ OTAKU!GOJO X BIMBO!READER

⏭ summary: your best friend gojo is a hopeless otaku virgin with zero rizz that's still obsessed with digimon—despite being a grown ass man. you're a slut who despite her best whoring efforts—can't cum. you'll take his v-card and he'll fix your broken pussy, deal? college au.

⏭ cw: virgin!satoru, gentle sex then rough sex , spanking (ass & pussy), slight sugar daddy/baby dynamic, coercion, dubcon, ecchi/pervy/freak nasty satoru, apprehensive bimbo!reader scared to nut, reader is also a bit of a tsundere brat but this isn't brat taming per se, oral fixation, toe licking, riding, prone bone, missionary, pussy eating, deep-throating, forced gagging, fingering, squirting, edging, olfactophilia, hand-job, protected & unprotected sex, bdsm references, masturbation, bit of somnophilia, pet names: Bunny (reader is called that in lieu of y/n), suggestions of geto x reader, mentions of satosugu and shokohime.

⏭ a/n: in my crack smut bag again cause this white haired demon wont let me rest until i write this nasty shit. fr tho this fic 13.3k and literally 10k of it is Gojo fucking you six ways to sunday. fyi this is the same y/n from nerd!geto but this is a different version of that AU where suguru is the one who has rizz and satoru is the nerd. y'all better read this or i'll never write gojo again istg lmfao. also shoutout to @halosdiary for beta reading and telling me it was good enough to post lol.

eta: y'all won. its a series now lol

“FUCK YEAH, LET’S GO!!! I ALONE AM THE CHAMPION OF THE DIGITAL WORLD!!!”

Startled by Gojo’s sudden outburst—you nearly rolled off the bed. 

Thankfully Suguru is sitting next to you and caught you before you fell off completely. 

Fully energized by his win Gojo sprang up from his elaborate PC setup, bouncing around the room in celebration. Fist-pumping the air he couldn’t contain his excitement after winning the Tokyo Regional Qualifiers for the Digimon Online TCG. 

“Guys, hey guys! See! I told you I’d win! I’m the strongest! The digidestined!”

You and Suguru exchanged exasperated glances before side-eyeing the hell out of Gojo.

This went on for a good 10 minutes so you had since returned to mindlessly scrolling TikTok, not wanting to encourage your grown-ass-almost-22-years-old-best-friend’s excitement over a children’s game.

“You sure showed those middle schoolers, Toru.”

Suguru quips with a smile. He’s clearly being sarcastic but Gojo is unfazed—nothing could damper his mood.

“Damn straight I did!”

Both you and Suguru have to chuckle, rolling your eyes at his childish enthusiasm. 

Despite the shared sentiment of annoyance over your best friend’s hobbies, you both were just happy to have Gojo back again. Two long years had passed since his parents made him travel the world on a rotation program, tasked with visiting the various Six-Vision Industries offices he would one day inherit. 

Being the nerdy genius he was, Gojo stacked a mass of university level credits in high school. So even with missing the first two years of college he’d still be joining you as a third year at your university come fall. 

After being apart for so long it was refreshing to hang out again and kicking it at Gojo’s mansion had been a daily occurrence since the start of the summer. Although things had definitely changed in the two years Gojo had been away there was one thing that certainly hadn’t.

Gojo was still a fucking huge otaku nerd. 

You’d thought his time spent in the business world would have matured him. However, being abroad, away from his friends and spending all day around the ‘stinky old fogeys in suits’ as he called them, only made him retreat further into otakudom. 

That much was evident as his collection of posters, figures and manga had somehow only seemed to grow even with him away. 

“Alright, while I just would love to stick around and hear more about you destroying the dreams of 12 year olds Toru—beach girl just texted me, gotta bounce!”

Suguru tries to leave but Toru clings onto him practically spider monkeying himself onto his back in an effort to get him to stay. 

“Sugu! Don’t leave! We’ve already been apart from each other for too long~~”

Sighing, Suguru attempts to pry his incorrigible bestie off of him.

“Satoru, you just spent the last 5 hours playing Digimon acting like me and Bunny weren’t even here. I’m sure if you go back to playing you won't even miss me.”

Gojo continues to pout as he whines for Suguru to stay.

“But I miss you already Sugu!”

Gojo presses his cheek against Suguru’s as Suguru’s eyebrow begins to twitch.

“I know! Invite your date here! Our chef is 10 times better than any restaurant you’d go to and you know we have an infinity pool grotto and onsen!

While the offer was tempting as any potential date would be thoroughly wowed by the decadent splendor that was the Gojo Family Residence—Suguru would also thoroughly cuck himself once his date was given the grand tour. 

Particularly the stop which included Gojo’s anime figure and otaku memorabilia rooms. 

While a good number of them were harmlessly nerdy shonen or slightly ecchi isekai figures—the rest? Well the rest contained every kind of freak nasty hentai figure you could think of—shibari, futanari and even the classic La Blue Girl tentacle dioramas—it was like a horny museum. 

Although at this point it should be considered a horny mausoleum as no woman who walked in would be walking out still in the mood—it was surely a place where horny went to die.

“Uh yeah, sure next time Toru….”

Suguru reaches back to pat Gojo on the head reassuringly. 

Lying as he was more than certain there wouldn’t be a next time. There wasn’t even going to be dinner—this was purely a hookup situation. 

“...but she’s already waiting for me outside my place—gotta run!”

Realizing Gojo still wasn’t letting go, Suguru sighs realizing this would require him utilizing his Judo training. 

In one swift movement, Suguru manages to shoulder-wheel Gojo and toss him onto the other side of his massive bed. The bed rebounds as he lands, slightly lifting you off your belly but you still are more interested in your phone. 

This isn’t the first time Suguru has Judo thrown Gojo off of him (likely wouldn’t be the last either).

Saying quick goodbyes before Gojo could recover, Suguru manages to slip away.

“Traitor!!! So much for bros before hoes!”

Utterly dejected, Gojo crawls up next to you on his massive bed.

“At least I still have you here Bunny.”

“Uh, not to pile on but you know I’m only here until Shoko and Utahime text me they are ready to go to the mall, right? I’m in dire need of a new handbag!”

Now clinging on to you Gojo throws another small tantrum as the weight of half his sinewy body presses into your back, his lean muscular arms wrapping around your shoulders.

“Not you too, Bunny puhleeease!”

You’ve known each other since you were in diapers so it wasn’t odd for you, him or Suguru to be found giving the others platonic cuddles like this—often all together too. The both of them were always so much bigger than you so you often enjoyed the comfort and security of always being the filling in the cuddle sandwich.

Gojo rests his chin on your shoulder watching as you continue scrolling TikTok. You sit in comfortable silence for a few minutes before his irritatingly hyperactive nature gets the best of him, and he starts poking around your phone to click on other videos that weren’t the 'mystery and makeup' ones you were watching.

“Toru, you know you could get a lot of your own hoes to hang out with if you weren’t such a huge otaku nerd…”

You had to swat Gojo’s hand away again as he tries to click on another prank video and he rolls off of you with a frustrated sigh. 

“...you’re almost as good looking as Suguru…”

Muttering the last part of that under your breath. Arguably Gojo’s features were just as if not more striking than Suguru’s. 

He was too hot himself for all of it to go to waste for being such a big dork.

“I’m sure Sugu would be happy to teach you ‘the way of the fuckboy’ if you asked Toru—that is if you’d actually go out clubbing like a normal 21 year old.”

“Why would I do that though? My house is 100 times better than a club!” 

Touché. 

While no one in your friend group was what someone would consider poor, Gojo’s wealth paled in comparison to anyone else’s and that went without saying. He’d had everything—if not more—than even the nicest tokyo club had. This was all thanks to his parents as socialites in their own right, often entertaining businessmen, dignitaries or foreign representatives with their ultra-exclusive parties.

“Besides, it wouldn't work—”

Gojo continued to pout.

“—Suguru would just get all the hoes anyway.” 

Easily able to walk up to even the most standoffish looking women, Suguru would have them reduced to bashful school girls in under 5 minutes. The women were always willing to hand over their numbers or drop any immediate plans to hang out with Suguru instead.

A good number of them had boyfriends already too.

Yet despite having the looks, Gojo opening his mouth ruined any advantage his lustrous blue eyes, exotic snow white hair and sharp handsome features gave him.

“Well, Suguru has a normal 21 year old’s room for starters, Toru. Not full of nerdy ass anime posters and Digimon tournament trophies.”

Gojo goes quiet. 

Driven from an early age to fill his head with knowledge of politics, technology, and international business relations, he spent the precious free time he did get with his friends or consumed by his own interests. Interests which just happened to be a bunch of otaku shit—Digimon in particular. 

It was an escape he’d cherished as a child and that didn’t change growing into adulthood either, if anything he needed it more now.

When Gojo doesn’t answer you look over to see him actually sulking for real now—face buried in a giant Agumon pillow plushie. 

What a crybaby. 

But the crybaby was one of your besties so you decided to lighten the mood and tease him a little.

“Ya know Toruuuu….you could just fuck Sugu then. Don’t think I haven’t seen y’all get a lil’ handsy during our cuddles!”

You give him a playful smirk and mime grabby hands at him.

“Oh and you haven’t? Don’t act like you wouldn’t fuck Suguru either!”

No longer appearing mopey, Gojo is up and laughing again. Mission Accomplished.

“Hey! I never said I wouldn’t but this isn’t about me, this is about you finally getting some play!”

You snap back but you’re blushing.

Like damn, who hadn’t thought about fucking Suguru though? 

“It's not the same if he makes me bottom! Plus no one thinks I can get pussy!”

Gojo grumbles, hugging his Agumon plushie to his cheek. 

You can’t help but notice how cute and baby girl he looks all pouty. 

He’d definitely get women lining up around the block of his huge ass mansion if he could at least get to the dating phase without giving out the otaku ick. 

“Because you can’t Gojo—Hoes don’t want to fuck guys who play Digimon!”

“But you’re a hoe and you like digimon too!”

Turning to look at him, you’d had half a mind to slap the shit out of Satoru but he had said it so earnestly. There was no sass nor malice behind his words. 

Besides, you were a hoe. That wasn’t something you ever denied.

You sigh. 

“Yeah I am a hoe now and I—keyword—liked Digimon. But that was back when I was a kid, Toru!”

Gojo scoffs and rolls his eyes.

“Listen, you’re my friend so m’gonna keep it a buck with you—a guy concerned with being digidestined is definitely not pussy destined, you digidork!”

You playfully hit him with the pillow you were laying on, not wanting him to start sulking again. 

Finally stimulated by something interesting Gojo wastes no time joining the pillow fight you initiated and you tussle with him on the bed until you both are exhausted and out of breath. 

Of course you come out of it victorious though. By the end you’d pinned both the pillows and Toru under you. 

Gojo however is back to pouting.

“Ugh, Bunny seriously though—I can’t go into junior year of college as a virgin!”

You smirk at his complaints as the answer is obvious.

“Throw away your figures and digimon cards then.”

“I’d rather die.”

“A virgin? At this rate you will.”

Gojo huffs in defeat as you settle comfortably on top of him this time. 

You’re about to reach for your phone again until you see a curious look flash across his face—the kind of look he always had as a kid when he thought of a hair-brain scheme that would lead to getting you all in trouble.

“Toru—what is it? And why do I have the feeling m’not gonna like it?”

You pull away cautiously, but his large hands grip your waist, stopping you and causing you to squeak in surprise.

“Hm, I dunno—was just thinkin’... why don’t you fuck me, Bunny?”

Your deadpan expression has Gojo scrambling, holding you closer in a vice grip when you try to squirm away. 

“Hey! Wait, I’m serious! Come on, Bunny! I need the experience and you always tell us about all your hookups! You have the experience—help a guy out!”

Staring at him skeptically you considered.

I mean sure, you always thought Gojo was attractive, more so since he returned this summer nearly a half a foot taller—but he was Gojo Satoru.

Your dorky, goofy, pervy otaku bestie practically since birth! 

You couldn’t just go and fuck him could you?

God, you could only imagine the taunts you’d get if word got out. Your friend group would never let you live it down! 

“Nah Toru—that would be too weird!”

“Huh, how come? You said I was almost as attractive as Suguru earlier!”

You stiffen.

Fuck, he’d heard that after all. 

“Ooo, ooo! Annnnd, you said last week you wanted a sugar daddy… Well, hi! I’m right here!”

The huge grin on his face has you frowning although more so because he was actually making some sense for once. I mean you were half-joking when you said it—well, let’s be honest not really. 

However, you mostly said it because while your family was well off enough, you still weren’t living in the lap of luxury by any means like a Gojo clan member. Unfortunately for you though, you were born with the expensive tastes of someone who was. So while you could afford a cute Chanel bag or a MCM wallet here or there, you’d set your sights on something higher—a coveted Hermes Birkin. 

Toru certainly could afford to buy you a whole truck load of them with what his family made in less than an hour. 

Nevertheless that wasn’t really the issue at hand. 

In spite of you being far from a virgin, there was actually a good reason why you wouldn’t be a good choice for Gojo to lose his v-card.

“Er, em—that’s really not the issue, Toru…” 

Trailing off you’re the one pouting now as you glance at your nails. 

“Then what? Don’t tell me our lil’ Bun Bun is shy now? Over lil’ ol’ me?”

Gojo teases you by sticking out his tongue—chuckling when you snap your head up to glare at him.

“You wish…” 

You grumble, chewing your lip now and debating whether or not to tell him the truth while Gojo looks at you with wide and glassy puppy eyes. Shaking your head you come to the conclusion you could trust him with your secret. 

He was the virgin otaku after all—he’s the one who should be embarrassed here!

“It’s just that…I–I can’t cum.”

Gojo just blinks at you. 

Clearly confused with metaphorical question marks surrounding his head as that's definitely not the answer he was expecting.

“I’ve slept with plenty of guys before but I never had an orgasm. I don't even really get close—I mean, sure, it feels good, I guess—mostly just a little weird. I heard some people just can’t and maybe that's me.”

You shrug, a bit nervous to look Gojo in the eye as you thought he may tease you further about this but was lost in contemplation. Almost as if he was seriously trying to do the biological math around what you’d just told him.  

After about a minute more he finally asks—

“—Does Suguru know?”

A simple question, unloaded in tone as Gojo is genuinely curious but it leaves you flustered nonetheless. 

“What?! Are you crazy?! Why would I tell him?!”

“Just figured if anyone could then—”

“—Hell no, Toru! Besides, what if he does? I’m not trying to be reduced to a fuckboy’s pick me if he ends up being the only man alive who can give me an orgasm!”

Sure Suguru was hot as fuck—as was a lot of your other fuckboy friends (Toji and Sukuna)—but you definitely didn’t want to end up like the dickmatized girls that would follow them around and literally box each other in the streets over some cock. 

You weren’t much of a fighter anyway and your face was far too cute to be getting scratched up.

Pussy should be put on a pedestal, not the other way around. You’d continue to be orgasmless before it came to that.

“Mm, but Shoko and Utahime know?”

You’re blushing more than ever this time.

“Um, yeah—T-They said once I realized all men were worthless to call them and they’d give me multiple of them.”

Gojo snorted at that but he was now convinced you both could help each other. 

“So we have no other options—then it's settled!”

In one fluid motion Gojo snatches away the pillows from between you and swaps positions—now with you on the bottom.

“Huh–wait—Toru!?”

Gojo groans.

“Come on, Bunny! I want pussy, you want to cum on top of getting that Bikram bag—

“—Birkin bag.” 

You corrected him.

“Yeah that one! So let’s help each other out, eh?  PULHEEEASEEE—Just the tip?”

You weren’t at all convinced that Gojo—whose sexual knowledge came purely from JAV, hentai and onaholes—could make you cum.

But then again sure, fuck it, why not?

You were getting bored waiting for Shoko to call you anyway and if Toru was willing to come off a Birkin for a lil’ pussy, you might as well fuck him. 

None of the other guys you had fucked even came close to making sex this worth it. Frankly this would be worth it even if you didn’t actually cum.  

“Fiiiine Toru, let’s have sex—”

“FUCK YEAH!”

“—BUT we’re laying down some ground rules!”

Sitting up with a straight back, Gojo obediently awaited your orders.

“Anything you want Bunny, name 'em go’on!”

Gojo’s overenthusiasm was like a puppy and you were sure if he had a tail it would be thumping on the bed like crazy now. 

You wanted to crack a smile but you know from prior experience that if you give men an inch they will take the whole goddamn mile—and Gojo of all people was no exception—so you are firm as you sit up to look in his eyes and lay down the law.

 “First—like you said, just the tip.”

Gojo started to protest but the raise of your eyebrows had him changing his tune immediately.

“Got it! Got it! Just the tip would be amazing Bunny, what else?”

He chided himself and you continued.

“And secondly, just because you bros have no loyalty, it’s still ‘chicks before dicks’ over here. You better get your nut quick cause I’m still leaving to go purse shopping when Shoko and Utahime call me.”

Gojo waves you off with that rule. 

“Psh, we should have plenty of time, it's almost 6pm! They’ve probably been too busy bumping their own purses together to go shopping with you for one. You haven’t heard from either of them in hours!”

Fair point—wildly out of pocket, but fair. 

Still. 

“Bumping Purses!? Really, Toru?”

“You know I’m not lying—but that’s it then, right Bunny?”

Not waiting, Gojo throws his shirt off and starts fumbling with the ties on his sweats before you stop him.

“Nah, Toru, hold your horses! One more rule!”

Freezing mid-action, Gojo's hands are shaking as he expectantly gazes at you, waiting for the last condition before you give him the green light.

“Finally, third—and most fucking importanly—if you make any, and I mean even just ONE—otaku reference, especially Digimon while you’re inside me I’ll snap your lil’ digidick off, understood?”

Gojo swallowed. 

Hard terms to live with but something he would be willing to abide by for pussy.

“Yes ma’am! Got it! Just the tip, you will ditch me for the purse bumpers and no Digimon!”

Gojo repeats your rules matter-of-factly. 

You roll your eyes but are satisfied enough he understood and you wave him off in the direction of your bag.

“Good. Now, be a good boy and go get a rubber out of my purse.” 

Bolting over to your purse Gojo grabs a pack of condoms and is back on the bed in an instant.

Reality sinking in on what you were about to do and who you were about to do it with, you suddenly become hyper aware, appraising Gojo. 

You note just how much in the two years since high school he’s grown. Still a bit lanky in areas but overall he filled out more for sure and his muscles were much more defined rippling underneath his skin as he eagerly clambered over you. Gojo still possessed the same piercing sky blue eyes that lit up a room but they looked all too predatorily hungry now that he was hovering over you. 

You swallow.

You’d feel almost completely out of control of the situation if it wasn’t also for the bundle of nervous energy radiating off of Gojo—his hands spasming like he might bust his pants the moment he touches you.

You try to maintain your composure, but your jaw drops and your eyes widen in shock when he finally pushes his sweats and boxers down in one swift motion.

Gojo was fucking huge!

“Toru—what the actual fuck?!”

Third leg was a massive understatement. 

I mean you didn’t think he’d be small—you’d been around him enough in boxers, sweats, pjs, etc growing up—but you didn’t expect this. 

He was definitely a grower and Christ did he just fucking grow!

Gojo looked puzzled until he followed your wide eyed gawking down to his lower half. 

Heh. 

“Am I the biggest you’ve seen, Bunny?”

Growing prideful Gojo pokes at you a bit and your ogling only grows more incredulous. 

You didn't know if he was the girthiest but certainly the longest by far. He’d actually puncture a lung if he stuck that whole monstrous thing in you!

It would literally have to be just the tip and you are thanking God right now that he’d already agreed to those terms. That would be much too uncomfortable to cum from and you are beginning to question how the pornstars manage. This wasn’t a JAV but Gojo, if his company ever went belly up, certainly had a promising career on OnlyFans ahead of him.

Gojo’s chest puffed up ten times more from your staring as he slipped the condom on (which only fit two-thirds of the way down). 

“O-Ok, Bunny now you!”

His cock throbbed more violently the longer you looked at him. The anticipation is contagious to say the least and you can't help but feel your chest warm at his eagerness. 

Gojo wants to get the attention off of him and you smile at him knowingly.

“You mean you don’t want to take my clothes off yourself?”

The thought never occurred to Gojo but he dumbly nodded. Your yelps echo in the room as his massive hands are on your hips faster than lighting pulling you towards him. 

The motion causes your tits to jiggle, the soft mounds moving freely beneath your spaghetti strapped halter and Gojo berates himself on how he only now is noticing you weren’t wearing a bra all this time. 

Gojo’s mouth goes dry at your nipples, already peaked and poking through the thin fabric. 

Your nipples pucker further when the crisp air of the A/C hits them after Gojo pulls your top overhead and you arch up to assist, not realizing you presented yourself to him like a treat to a dog. 

“T-Toru!!!!”

Gojo wraps his strong sturdy arms fully around your body. Pressing his face deep into your chest as his warm wet lips latch onto a nipple. His mouth now suctioned to you, Gojo swirls and flicks his tongue around the hardened bud. Gojo moans around your flesh, pleasantly surprised at how addicting the sweet salty taste of your skin is. 

If Gojo wasn’t sure he had an oral fixation before he surely knows now. Zoning out everything else except for the sloppy sounds of him worshiping your breast, he relishes the contrasting textures of his rough tongue suckling the soft skin of your swelling bud. 

Gojo surely would have been latched onto you for hours and you are only able to pry his head away when he releases your nipple with a wet pop to take a breath.

“TORU!!!”

You’re panting and red faced as you yank his head back. 

But Gojo is a man solely focused—tongue hanging out off his mouth captivated by how cutely your areola puffed as it glistened with his spit and fighting overwhelming desire to get the other one in a similar state.

“Huh–Bunny, b-baby—you taste so good n’ your tiddies are so nice—so fuh-kin’ soft.”

Gojo’s tongue is hanging out of his mouth drooling as he attempts to dive back into your chest. you feel his heavy cock on your thigh as his hips begin to rut against you. 

This was too much!

“Stop Toru! You’re being too rough, they are sensitive! Besides, times’ ticking! Remember I have no problem leaving you blue balled if Shoko or Utahime call me!” 

You do your best to give him a disapproving look as you blush.

“Awe but you seemed like you were liking it, you were whining loud enough.”

“Shut up n’just get on with it!”

“Yes ma’am~~”

Enjoying your breasts so much Gojo almost forgot he hadn’t even seen your pretty pussy yet. 

Making quick work of your shorts, Gojo manages to pull them down just over your core but is stunned once again as he burns the image of the skin-melding fabric of the mesh hot pink g-string covering your cunt. The thin satiny straps dug into your supple hips amplifying your curvaceous form.

Fucking slutty as hell!  

Rivaling that of even his most favorite and most scandalous hentai figures. 

This was so much better, so much more lewd as the clingy fabric struggles to cover the fat of your plump pussy lips—not like the transparency of them left much to the imagination. 

God help him, he just wants to tear them off with his teeth and open mouth swan-dive into your dewy lil’cunt—-pushing his tongue deep into your peachy core tongue fucking orgasm after orgasm out of you until he drowned in your milky nectar—but he has to restrain himself.

You probably wouldn’t like that too much given your reaction earlier and he’d die if you’d happen to just call the whole thing off.

Mouth drying and hands twitching—Gojo is trying so hard to be a good boy and contain his more perverted instincts.

“Earth to Toru! Y-You good?”

Gojo looked like a tightly wound coil ready to pop in every sense of the word and you hated that his nervousness was making you nervous too. 

So on edge you almost jumped once his eyes snapped up to meet yours.

“G-Great, Bunny…j-just fine.” 

Gojo’s voice falters, becoming more pitchy and you giggle. As much as Gojo wants to look at your pussy as he peels the flimsy moist fabric off of them he couldn’t do that at this moment—he would actually bust his pants.

Instead, Gojo leans in to kiss you, but you block him. He ends up kissing your palm instead.

“Toruuu… that be too weird, we’re friends remember?”

“Yeah friends who are fucking, Bunny! You mean you won’t let my tongue in your mouth but you’re letting my dick inside your pussy?!”

You knew it sounded nonsensical even before he said it back to you. But your heart was pounding so loudly in your ears you could barely hear him anyway.

You didn’t know what you were scared of this time? 

You had let all your other previous hookups makeout with you but Gojo was different. 

This felt entirely different.

You didn’t know why, you just knew it was and you were apprehensive of the unfamiliar emotions he was stirring in you and this wasn’t supposed to be anything more than an arrangement between friends.

“Don’t you need to warm up tho Bunny? Obviously m’no pro at this—but even I know a little bit more foreplay is usually needed?”

Your heart beats louder at his concern but you push that aside trying to focus on your breaths. 

Satoru should have been the easiest lay but for a reason that alludes—you were coming undone before him.

“Shut up Toru and just fuck me! The foreplay stuff doesn't matter, it won't make a difference anyway, m’not gonna cum! Also you’re big af so grab your lube. We're gonna need lots of it!”

Toru pouts but follows your commands without fuss. 

Although he’s anxious to get his dick wet he also is still thinking of how he can hold up his end of the bargain other than a stupid purse. 

You said he didn’t need to but he wanted to. 

The thought of finally losing his v-card excited him but there was something that made his cock throb harder at being the first man to give you an orgasm. 

But you don’t want him to touch you beyond what was absolutely necessary, so how was he going to accomplish that exactly?  

Gojo was a genius and had the IQ score to prove it, he’d be able to solve the problem once he was inside you, right? 

Turning back to face you after retrieving the lube from his nightstand, Toru has to grab the base of his cock this time to keep from prematurely coming in the latex that was already starting to thicken with his precum.

There you were laid out like a slut—panties pulled to the side—fingering yourself a bit to loosen up, having reconsidered his suggestion of foreplay when the twitching on your thigh reminded you of how big he actually was.

“OH SHI—”

You notice his jaw hanging open, utterly entranced as his eyes follow the motions. 

You knew you should be letting him do this to get the experience but honestly there was no sense in setting Gojo up for failure—delivering a significant blow to his ego when he inevitably couldn’t make you cum. You didn’t want to damage him even more if he felt it was his fault your pussy was apparently broken, you having tensed up completely every time a guy had tried before.

But you can’t deny you are getting some pleasure—if only through your own amusement—as you grab his cock and pump the lube he poured down his latex covered shaft, still fingering yourself—much to Gojo’s delight and wonder of seeing an actual real pussy up close. 

Gojo sucks in air and groans pitifully as your hand spreads the cool gel over his length which only intensifies his ache to be inside of you. 

“C’mere, Toru…”

You beckon sweetly, guiding him forward with your back against the pillows, you tease the crown of his tip through your folds preparing him for missionary. 

Gojo nearly bites a chunk out of his lip when his thick cockhead finally catches over your slicked entrance and you’re left wincing.

“T-Toru, e-easy—o-ok? Not too deep...”

A breathy confirmation shudders out of Gojo as he’s easing himself into your warm tightening cunt. The stretch is immediate which mentally confirms for you he is also the girthiest you’ve ever had as well. 

Your heels dig into his hips to brace yourself while he hovers over you, arms shaking.

“FUUUUUHHHH—”

Even with the rubber on, Gojo still thinks he might melt from how warm and tight you are—so much better than even his onahole with the custom grip and heating features. 

Screwing his eyes shut, Gojo has to count backwards from a million, recite Japan’s national anthem, list the GDPs of the top 10 wealthiest countries—anything—or he will cum too soon or worse, crack and drive his hips until he’s all the way to the hilt from the way your dangerous lil’ pussy is sucking him in.

God, it felt like your slutty cunt had a mind of its own calling for him to push in a lil’ deeper, greedily begging for him to go a lil’ further but Gojo resists. 

Sweat beads on his brow from the exerted effort of sheer willpower to keep his promise to you.

To Gojo’s credit, he really is doing his best, only a little less than a third but due to his length that's still a lot. 

Your eyes wander up to Gojo’s face and away from where he is wholly splitting you open, lest you clench on him even tighter and you knew you needed to relax. Even if you weren't really feeling much but the overwhelming strain from the tight fit, looking at Gojo you were happy that he appeared to be in bliss at least. 

His eyes still squeezed shut, mouth hanging open and spittle flowing down his jaw Gojo was in his own world as he continuously babbled nonsense about how perfect your cunt felt around him.

Just the tip in you for all of 20 seconds and already pussy drunk from just this much. 

“B-Bunny, Oh SHHIII–B-Bunny—m’cute Bun—FAH-ACK s’gud—m’gonna cum soon UHH–pussy feels s’good—oh-oh my god!” 

Although his entire body is quaking with pleasure, the few functional brain cells that survived the fiery blaze of your sinful lil’ pussy are still thinking of you. 

Gojo tries to give some attention to your neglected lil’ clit, but a single swipe causes your leg to jerk and you promptly push his hand away again.

“N-NO! Pleaseee, m’too sensitive Toru! J-Just focus on your thrusts! Y-You’re s’close, m’can feel your cock twitching i-i-inside me...”

Gojo wants to challenge you on this—suspecting from the way your cunt felt constricting around him you felt something pleasurable then—but he’s too far gone and much too inexperienced to keep focused on anything else. 

Especially when you are so explicitly describing him fucking you. 

Grabbing his face you bring your foreheads to touch to help calm him so he’d last a bit longer. Although you still hold his face to prevent him from kissing you, he's close enough that you're sharing the same breath, now looking into each other's eyes. 

He struggles to maintain eye contact though before the magnetism of your heated core had them rolling back again.

You're still not close to cumming, yet you are beginning to enjoy the warm comforting feeling of being this full as he holds you close, his short thrusts gaining momentum. 

Sharing intimacy with someone you actually cared about for once is really nice and you wouldn't mind having more sex like this even if you couldn't cum. 

Thumbing over Gojo’s moist lips you coo sweet praises to him as he desperately moans around your delicate appendage. Suckling your thumb between his lips and nursing on it until he can no longer contain the heavy breaths that overpower him and fan across your face. 

Sharing the same exhaled breath is making you light headed and you mewl at the keen sensations it stirs in your pussy that has him full on gasping now. Gojo releases the whiniest moan as he falls into you, unable to support his arms any longer. 

Showering your neck with open mouth kisses as his body curls more into yours.

However it all proves far too much when Gojo faltering more in his promise, slips more than halfway into your cunt—instantly filling the latex as it balloons inside of you as you scrape your heels against his back.

SHIIIIIT! He s’big! 

Despite nearly splitting your poor pussy into two at the end though, Gojo did such a good job for his first time. 

You’d forgive him just this once though as you wrapped your arms around his head, gently petting his undercut. His heaving breaths quiet under your soothing touches, finally ceasing the stream of his spit and tears that had been pooling in your collarbone.

Staying like that for a while holding him while his heartbeat calms to match yours and his length softens inside you. You close your eyes peacefully for a few moments before you hear your phone vibrate next to you. 

It's Shoko!

Shoko’s text apologizes for the delays and offers to get dinner instead—promising to go shopping with you and Utahime tomorrow since they got held up and you make plans for dinner in two hours. 

Perfect. That gives you plenty of time to clean up and get yourself presentable. 

“Did you cum even a lil bit, Bunny?”

Oh sweet baby, if you have to ask…You think to yourself but it's not poor Toru’s fault your pussy is out of order.

“Um, no Toru baby—but you did so well! Ya know you’re actually pretty cute and considerate when you get a little pussy. I’m sure you’ll manage to make any girl you happen to get naked happy!”

Gojo counters you with a disappointed look still panting slightly as he pulls out and rolls over bringing you towards him to cuddle. Allowing him, reasoning that you don’t have to get up right this second.

Yoour back meets his chest and it’s then you notice the condom still inside you. Figures since it was much too small in the first place. Yet you couldn’t complain as it managed to do its job due to Satoru not going all the way in. Breathing out you grimace a bit as you still had to give it a pretty good tug to lodge the filled latex out of your sore cunt. 

“Goddamn Toru, you were pretty backed up huh?”

Having witnessed the entire display from over your shoulder and the sight of the light blue rubber covered in your fluids while drooping heavily with his own has Gojo’s dick stirring again as you jiggle the rubber demonstrating its fullness before tossing it into the bin beside his bed. 

Conflicted Gojo broods for a while as he hugs you to him. 

While his body felt mostly satisfied, seeing you still unsatisfied put a huge damper on his mood. 

Sure you had told him you couldn’t come—but would any girl cum without much foreplay or stimulation? 

Even the darker hentais and JAVs he’s seen had more foreplay than this!

Hmmm... 

Thinking over the experience again in his mind he had a hunch that if right could cure your lack of orgasms but needed you to let him fuck you once more to be sure. 

“So you’re gonna hit and quit just like that, Bunny?”

He teases clinging onto you again when you try to maneuver out of his embrace.

“No time for more cuddles Toru—Shoko texted, we’re getting dinner in two hours.”

“Wait! Bunny! That’s so far away—Let me go again, pleeeease!”

Gojo is determined this time to make you cum for real! And, yeah you know—your slick heat sliding up and down his cock again would be a highlight too.

“Toru–”

“—Come on bunny! We solved my problem but we haven't fixed yours, you still haven't cum yet!”

“Toru, I thought we understood we were never going to solve my problem in the first place—so don't stress! Also I know this is probably the first time a girl has said this to you and actually meant it—but it's really not you!”

Gojo puts his negotiation face on. 

You wanted to play hardball? Bet.

“I’ll give you my black card for a whole week!”

Gojo turns you around to look him in the eye so you could see how sincere he was, he really wanted to try again—he knew he could make you cum this time!

You sighed. 

You couldn't really be mad at him—in fact, it was actually the cutest thing—that he wanted to keep trying for your benefit—but you didn’t see the point when it would just lead to the same result. You don’t even need to glance down to see Gojo’s cock was just as resolute as he’s already recovered and fully bricked—length pulsing against your ass. 

Well—given his last performance you were sure he’d last all of five minutes and if you had his black card for a whole week you were about to tear the entire Hermes store up—a Birkin and a Kelly in every color!

Hell, maybe you could even get the coveted baby pink ostrich one. 

“Mmm’kay, Toru—black card for a week! No limit!”

“Yup of course! Oooh no—Wait, no rubbers and I'll let you have my new g-wagon too! I hear raw sex is sooo much better you will cum for sure then Bunny!”

Well you knew a good bargain when you heard it.

Throwing the unopened condoms to the side you laid back down.

Imported European cars are stupid expensive to get in Japan and if he was coming off a g-wagon—especially as it was a custom powder blue matte with dune colored seats and shiny platinum rims—then he could have as many two-minute pump sessions as he wanted.

He’d likely pass out from dehydration in less than twenty tops anyway.

“Okay, but same rules as before except no cumming inside Toru! I mean it! It's too much of a mess to clean up after, it’ll be dripping all night especially all that you came last time…”

The thought of your gooey tender cunt weeping his nut for hours has Gojo’s balls tightening in want of making it a reality—but he knew if all went to plan you’d be begging for it! 

First—he needed you to take a more active role this time. He saw you settled back onto the pillows and that simply wouldn’t do. 

“Um Bunny, can you be on top? I-I’m dying to see what your cute tiddies look like jiggling all crazy like in my face.”

You cover your chest, frowning in offense at his more debauched ecchi preferences but you agreed nonetheless. 

Relenting as it’d likely have him cumming sooner and then you could finally get ready to meet the girls—all in your new g-wagon, although you’d definitely have to make up a lie as to how you scammed it out of Gojo.

Gojo takes your place on the pillows, amused as now it’s his turn to beckon you forward. Steeling yourself, you embarked on your climb to mount him. Tall and lean with wisps of hair sticking to his face Gojo looked more like he belonged in a painting, unnerving you that a face only an artist could sculpt admired your body with his lustful gaze. 

He was too sexy for his own nerdy ass good like this and you failed not to whimper when his strong hands settled at your waist.

Lube in your hand you smirk, gaining some confidence back when you hear Gojo hiss as the cool gel once again spreads down his fiendish girth that pulses restlessly at your touch. The sensation is all the more agonizing without the latex barrier hindering him as your, your silky smooth palm glided over his bare cock before tugging back the sensitive foreskin covering his crown head. 

Licking your lips you almost want to bend down and taste the pre marbling like a pearlescent jewel on his pretty exposed cockhead.

He’d probably cry like a baby if you did, you mused with a grin. 

Good God girl snap out of it! 

You chastise yourself—no, you had to focus and end this quickly before you lost your mind. The idea of fucking Gojo beyond what he could buy for you started to get more appealing and you couldn’t allow that.

Readying yourself to mount him this time you realize your pussy is quivering in anticipation of the stretch—it was uncomfortable last time so—why was your body reacting this way?

Your own pussy betraying you as she seemed to yearn for the opportunity to gobble him up, taking him in with less resistance in spite of you. Flexing around the thick intrusion inside your core you shiver in feeling the curve of every vein on his girthy cock as you lowered yourself onto him.

The way your pussy flexed as a jolt of electricity ran through you scared you—a new sensation bubbling up inside, threatening to make you lose yourself in the feeling.  Must be survival instincts you rationed—your cunt scared for its life never having encountered such an acute danger like Gojo’s dick before.

The burn was pleasurable this time, sucking in sharp breaths at every slight movement of him moving inside your core. Yet Gojo is in even more bliss—from the serpentine motion of your hips cascading over his own to how your your puffy pussy lips looked so wonderfully parted, stretched open around his cock—FUCK!

How was he going to complete his plan if his brain just started turning to mush everytime your dangerously succulent cunt grinded against him.

“O–ooo shiiiiiit!”

“Y-You okay, Bunny?”

Although Gojo himself looked like he was in agony his face was reddening from how good your raw gummy walls were surging around his length.

“Hhnng, fine Toru—y’er j-just big.” 

Gravity was your natural enemy in this scenario and you took him a bit past halfway this time.

Wanting to distract you, his large hands grope your tits but you knock him away—your stomach fluttering. 

“What's wrong, this time?”

“...s’n-nothing, it’s—just put your hands on my hips, it helps me so my legs don't get tired.”

You lied.

Well your legs were quivering but more pressingly your heart started to race and you didn't know if it was because a cock like this could actually relocate your uterus to your lungs or if you’d actually started catching something similar to romantic feelings for Gojo Satoru. 

Either one was unacceptable in your book.

“Hurry up and cum, Toru!” 

However Gojo is about to say something, your phone rings.

“I-Its Utahime…”

“Don’t answer Bunny! Focus or you’re never going to cum!”

“I can multitask, Toru! Besides, on the small chance I do I know it's definitely going to take longer than the two minutes you lasted before.” 

Hushing Gojo’s protests and eyes flaring at him to be silent, you answer the call. 

“Bunny!”

“Hime!”

You greeted each other with your usual peppiness—like Gojo wasn’t 6 and a half inches deep with 2 and half more to go—give or take—inside you.

“What’s up? Oh erm, what am I doing—”

A sly and haughty smile plays on his lips and you scowl at him.

“—I’m still at Gojo’s and no—I’m not doing much at all right now! Haha—yeah. I can definitely talk, of course!”

Gojo frowns as his eyes narrow and to placate him you start half heartedly rotating your hips.

You still looked sexy as hell though. Even with less effort expended it was still a workout as shown by the sheen of perspiration glowing off your body. That delectable sight combined with the light swaying of your tiddies was more than enough for him to cum if he just focused on himself.

But he was determined not to this time, not until you had.

“See Toru? They were helping Shoko’s parents!”

You stick out your tongue and he makes a face back at you.

“Oh what?—s’nothing—Ha! Well ok! He said you were too busy bumping pussies to go to the mall with me! Psh—typical am I rite? Huh—put you on speaker? LOL O-OKAY.”

Snitch! 

Gojo mouths to you offended you’d rat him out like this as Utahime’s voice shrills through the phone.

“Satoru you loser! You have to talk about our pussies cause you could never have one of your own in a million years!”

Snorting with laughter Gojo is more than amused. 

If only they knew.

You pale signaling at him to ‘STFU’ or he could finish himself off.

“Aww, is that so Utahime? I’m so hurt.” 

The mischief in Gojo’s voice is obvious—he’s clearly mocking you.

Annoyed with him getting the upper hand and feeling sassy, you pile on—

“Exactly Hime! I mean he might get some—but a total otaku like him wouldn’t know what to do with a pussy if he even ever got in—EEP!”

A heavy handed smack comes down on your ass—hard. 

The force ripples its way into your cunt causing you to feverishly tighten as your tongue pushes a low moan out between your lips.

“Oh ho ho—what's this? You actually like getting spanked huh, Bunny? You dirty, dirty girl…” 

Gojo is whispering again before his hand once more swats at that same cheek.

The sting causes saliva to pool in the corners of your mouth. 

If looks could kill Gojo would have died a horrible death—that is if you could focus enough to even glare at him. You’re absolutely mortified—too consumed by the spanks that fiercely rained down on your reddening bottom, your pussy getting shamelessly wetter with every hit.

“AH–FAHHH—”

“Bunny! What’s happened?!”

You hear Shoko’s concerned voice this time.

“N-N-Nothing, G-Gojo’s being mean to me cause I told on him! H-He pinched me so hard Shoko!”

“Liar!”

Gojo mouths again and his demeanor turns absolutely devilish. 

Oh? So that's how you wanted to continue to play? 

You were such a brat sometimes but then again so was he and his competitive nature soared at the challenge.

“Oh did I? Like this, Bunny?”

Gojo’s  palms cup your tits roughly before he pinches them, twisting your nipples causing the slobber that collected to dribble down your chin and onto your chest.

“Shiiii—T-Toru! S-STOP YOU A-AHHH–SSHOLE!!”

The grip his thumb and forefingers have on your sensitive buds intensifies and you can barely keep the phone in your grasp as you hold it out arm extended to keep your cries from being heard. 

With only one hand free there’s no way for you to worm nor pry his hands from your tits as you are still struggling not to sink lower and choke on your own tongue from the electrifying sensations assaulting your cunt.

This couldn’t be what it was like could it? This overwhelming feeling?

You didn’t want to admit it but as tear-inducing as the sensations were—they felt real fucking good. 

Your hips began involuntary rocking as your core now craved how Gojo’s cock scraped against your walls like it was trying to carve itself even deeper inside you if you’d let your hips drop just a little bit lower. 

“Toru! Stop picking on our Bunny! Don’t make us come over there and kick your ass!”

The sweat that now runs down Gojo’s brow threatens to blur his vision but he’s locked in and focused. The phone situation being so fucking raunchy combined with the way your pussy is creaming on him (despite you trying your hardest not to feel good) has him stressed. 

Swallowing he had to try hard to keep up the act as well as please you without cumming—it would be a feat if he accomplished it to say the very least.

God, this was all so shamefully vulgar. 

Did you do this on purpose answering the phone? 

He didn’t even know this was a kink of his—or yours apparently.

But your “problem” was now clear to Gojo:

It’s not that you couldn’t cum, it’s just that you were scared to cum. 

Any real stimulation triggered your fight or flight. 

You were perfectly capable, you just needed a bit of forcefulness—however the effect of it terrified you and you bolted from it every time you had sex with someone—until now. 

Heh, there would be no more running from the nut for his little bunny rabbit.

Gojo wonders how far into his ecchi depravity he can take you.

“Your Bunny, huh?”

Gojo's eyes squinted as if he could stare down Shoko and Utahime through the phone.

You were his. 

He was the one who was going to make you cum and frankly he didn’t give a fuck anymore if Shoko or Utahime heard it—in fact he wanted them too.

Planting his feet into the bed, Gojo’s form shifts as he swiftly grips your waist simultaneously bringing you down while driving his pelvis up—pummeling his entire length into your guts. The prickly patch of groomed hair at his base tickles your poor abused lil’ clit which had been forcibly nestled into them—the result of being smashed against his pubic bone. 

“FUHCCCK—MUTHERFUHH—SHHHH–HIIIIIT!!!” 

Vision momentarily blacked out and burning with tears mixed with your running mascara, your pussy still reeling from the sheer magnitude of Gojos long girthly length now all the way sheathed and practically tearing through your womb. Your eyes are firmly lodged in the back of your head, the electrifying vibrations cause you to drop the phone entirely. Your world is spinning from experiencing your first small orgasm that only increased intensity as your efforts to escape Gojo are in vain. 

Your cervix is screaming at the probing intrusion of his bulbous tip ramming so far up into you but Gojo has you anchored to him unable to flee from his onslaught of thrusts.

If you could string together a coherent thought you would have wondered if in fact your stomach had been relocated next to your lungs as you felt so full you couldn’t breathe. 

Your pussy violently spasms around his girth, creamy fluids seeping down onto his base from your cunt sloshing around him.  Gojo grips your cheeks spreading you wider increasing the squelching noises echoing from your cunt.

Shit though, Gojo thinks your perfect pussy might actually break his dick off from how fervently you were clenching him. 

Tongue fully lolled out of your mouth, you’re grasping onto Gojo’s shoulders for stability as your saliva drips down his pectorals.

“BUNNY!! Are you still there?? What’s that noise?”

Shoko and Utahime’s calls for you go unanswered. Gojo on the other hand is grinning, albeit through gritted teeth, pleased at how his long trunk-like cock is rendering you nonverbal. 

“Hehe, you definitely came a bit that time didn’t ya—ya nasty lil’ Bunny, don’t lie.” 

“N-N-Nooo T-Toru–s’like I-I c-can’t breathe—”

“Heh, a’course you can baby Bun—that's what it feels like when you cum, even I know that.”

SMACK!

Another firm smack to your ass has your cunt quivering wildly.

You feel like the virgin in this situation now—and honestly—are you not? 

Did those other dicks really count? 

It felt like you were having sex for the first time as this was a totally different experience even from the earlier round with Gojo.

“Don’t worry though, now that I know what kinda shit you’re into—I’mma take care of that pervy lil’ princess pussy sooo good, Bunny.”

Oh god—That couldn’t be true could it? 

Spanking? Nipple twisting? Having your insides pushed up to your throat? 

You didn’t actually like this kinda freaky shit did you?

Yet your body’s reactions remain true even if your mind doesn't want to accept the cause of the fire that is burning within you. Your pussy is in raptures at the feeling of being molded into the exact shape of Gojo’s cock—veins and all.

“HELLLOOOOO BUNNY!!!!”

Absolutely pleased with himself Gojo retrieves the phone.

“Awe p-poor thing, just stubbed her toe runnin’ from me. My—SHIII–room is—FUHHH—k-kinda a m-mess—S-See? I almost tripped just now too. Isn’t that right Bunny?”

Gojo brings the phone closer and you bat it away wishing he would just hang up and spare you the humiliation. Although humiliation seemed to be your new kink as mirroring his earlier actions as you’re pathetically moaning into his skin. Gojo’s masculine scent, mingled with the salty aroma of perspiration, floods your senses, making you feel even more lightheaded, increasing the sloshing of his cock buried deep in your cunt.

The crude noises that rang from your bodies squelching and slapping against each other renders Gojo unable to keep up the charade either. Making up a quick excuse—he has to go get ice for your toe—he quickly hangs up on Shoko and Utahime whose puzzled protests of concern he couldn’t give a single fuck about anymore. 

God fucking you while on the phone with them was so fucking hot, he’d have to get you to do it again—maybe with Suguru next time, he’d probably even be into it.

“Hey B-Bunny—y-you think Shoko and Hime were naked too?”

You groan.

This fucking hentai otaku perv—you already told him that they were helping Shoko’s parents! 

You want to glare, scream, chastise, get up—but you can’t—you’re at the mercy of him ruthlessly drilling up into your cunt and can only heave out tired mewls in reply.

“Fuuuck–imma cum again soon! Do you feel the way your naughty lil’ cunt is squeezing like she wants to wring me dry, wan’t me to give it all to your pussy Bunny?”

“N-Not i-inside m’pussy, T-Toru!” 

A devious smirk appears. 

Heh, yeah he promised not inside your pussy.

Without warning Gojo rips his cock out from your sopping core and manhandles you onto your back. Thinking he will simply cum outside somewhere you're finally able to breathe again and you exhale—only to feel his monstrous length being shoved down your throat.

Your eyes shoot open. 

Greeted with the image of Gojo's heavy balls in your face, his ball hairs tickle your nose as you gag around his girth straining your throat open wide. You think if he didn’t reach your lungs through your guts he certainly would now that he’s eight and a half inches down your esophagus.

“You said i couldn’t cum in your pussy Bunny, so let’s use that pretty lil’ mouth pussy instead—sweet fuck, ya know she’s almost tighter than your actual cunt.”

Your hands fly to the outside of his thighs pawing over the sweat glossed skin as you drag your nails down them, leaving welts in an effort to get him to ease up. The potent musk of your shared lust that had dripped down his balls was now rubbing on your face assaulting your senses. 

It was fucking nasty, so gross and yet your own pussy betrayed you—burning with an ache to be filled again at the smells that stimulated your own primal hedonistic urges.

“Awe, don’t be like that. I know you like it rough, yeah? I haven’t forgotten about you either baby.”

Gojo of course at this point isn’t talking to you but your cunt.

With one hand squeezing your already constricted airway, Gojo’s other snaked its way over your body and reeling it back before delivering a mean open palmed slap to your clit. 

The sound of your soaked cunt echoed through his room and he almost came from that alone as your fluids trickled out of you faster, further soiling his expensive sheets.

“This pussy likes being spanked more than those cherry cheeks of yours huh, Bunny? I know my filthy hentai pussy does.”

You’re obviously unable to answer but the way you’re gurgling moans around his cock lets him know this is exactly what you like. Thrusting two thick fingers into your quivering core his burly appendages bullied themselves in as far as they could go. 

“You know—G-God, FUCK you’re tight—Bunny, you know I read in an h-manga how girls can squirt from a lack of air and a little bit of prodding, s’ppose—S-SHIII—t’be something in here that sends em absolutely wild.”

Fingers searching deeper it's not until Gojo pulls back to add a third that he scrapes past a firm spongy spot that has your legs buckling.

Astonished by the amazingly sexy reactions of your body—Gojo’s eyes are blown out wide over how much your clit swells, your hole twitches and your juices spurt out of you as your tears run over your cheeks to wet his balls further. Gojo doesn’t even need to thrust as your throat tightens around him like crazy with him jamming his fingers into that particular spot over and over.

Lost in your own ecstasy you’re proven wrong as contrary to your belief you thought his otaku sex-ed would be to his detriment to his skills. However it's exactly because of all of the lecherous and depraved shit he collected and consumed did he know exactly what to do to you now that got you all messed up. Eyes lodged into your skull, squirting and practically blacking out with his dick stuffed down your throat on his long dexterous fingers abusing your cunt.

“SHIIIIIIT—”

With a keen grunt Gojo cums, pumping loads of viscous fluid down your throat forcing you to gorge on his thick cum. 

“F-Fuck Bunny are you a throat goat? M-Milked me dry...”

He’s still driving his pliable fingers in and out of you, his arms are shaking from his own orgasm but he doesn’t care. Nothing on earth could stop him from replicating the beautiful sight of your pretty lil’pussy spurting out juices that run all the way down his forearm.

“…heh, looks like I can milk you too, Bunny.”

Gojo finally dislodges his dick out of your throat but still runs a hand through your pussy folds to rub soothing circles on your clit. You whimper through your coughs as you spit up some of his cum, still gagging after what were mere minutes but seemed like hours of choking on his beefy cock.

Vision spotty, tremors run through your body—both ends so thoroughly fucked out—that it doesn’t register that Gojo is once again lifting your body bringing you towards the edge of the bed.

If you thought Gojo was going to give you aftercare from having used your body like one of his anime fleshlights, you’d be correct—but not before one last round. 

Lifting your hips off his luxe bed Gojo positions your wobbly legs on his shoulders. His eyes are blown out and crazed with his own twisted perversion. Weakened and spent himself as cock twitched from overstimulation but he’s never been a quitter—determined to make you cum again and again before one of you finally passes out.

Your toes wiggle and you keen as his tongue ravenously dips between your toes. Trailing his tongue past the arch of your foot to bite your heel.

“You’re so fucking sexy, Bunny—the best pussy in the whole world, how could you ever think she was broken? You were just waiting for me to use her huh?”

“S-shut up–Toru, j-jeez…”

Your windpipes had been fucked raw and you’re croaking which to your dismay only seems to turn Gojo on more and he’s tapping his tender engorged cockehead on your clit. Your brows pinch together as you bite back moans from his frenulum catching and chafing so wonderfully over your clitoral hood.

“Puhleaseeee, Honey Bunny! Let me fuck you a bit more now that we know you are as ecchi coded as I am, m’kay my pervy princess?”

The very thought shames you and you think your heart might seize from embarrassment if it doesn’t give out from pleasure first and your heart feels like it might beat out of your chest chest from all the pet names Gojo is bestowing upon you. 

“Toru…”

You try to reason with him through your defeated huffs as you press your legs shut together.

“...y-you made me cum from your fingers n’ your cock.. Y-You won. Pleaseee—I-I don’t even think I can cum any more.” 

Not convinced Gojo pushes your legs back.

“Oh, is that right? Let’s ask her then!”

Gojo delivers another smack onto your slippery pussy as if on the command of her new owner your obedient cunt immediately leaks a bit more creamy slick onto his palm.

“See, baby? She says you can though and that she’s tired of you running from it Bunny—”

Still hugging your legs together in his grasp, Gojo lowers himself to rub his cheek against your pussy like it was his favorite pillow. 

“Don’t fret my pervy lil’ pussy I won't let Bunny deprive you any longer from what you really need.”

You groan yet Gojo is more gentle this time as he gingerly rolls you onto your belly and lifts your hips to slide his giant Agumon pillow underneath.

Urgh, did it have to be this one!?

There's no time for complaints though once Gojo spreads your cheeks wide. A glob of spit hits your crack as his thumb prods against your shy puckering rear hole while he humps his cock between the fat of your thighs through your soggy swollen folds. 

“Shiiit imma fuck this tight lil’ bunny hole next time baby, m’kay?”

The threat causes you to shudder yet all your back talk and sass is gone from his illicit preparations as he elicits heady mewls from your hoarse throat. Your cunt flutters eagerly to have him fill you again as his fingers imprint themselves into your bottom.

The anticipation is so intense as bracing for his size ripping through you you nearly fail to notice Gojo is now humming to himself—humming—THE DIGIMON CHAMPIONS THEME SONG!?

OH HE HAD YOU ALL THE WAY FUC—

—And suddenly you’re screaming again, eyes glued to the back of your skull as his hips jerk forward, drilling his dick past your walls to pound directly into your cervix with the tempo of a  madman.

OH FUCK! …s’good!

You finally surrender letting your cunt control your brain as you throw ass back to meet his frenzied thrusts. Like a drug addict from the first real taste your pussy is already addicted to the feeling of his cock destroying you.

“S’toru–S’toru–S’toru–FUHHHHCK!”

His name fell from your lips like a mantra, the only word your brain—now thoroughly fucked smoothed—could remember.

The sight of you chasing your own pleasure as your ass slammed back onto his pelvis, your skin rippling as it bounced and splashed frothy fluids onto his abs sent him further into perverse degeneracy. 

“F-Fuck Bunny—baby, this pussy too good—We can’t tell Suguru for a while, kay? He’ll want to fuck you too and this pussy is just f’me. Suguru gets all the pussy s’tell me you’ll keep yours f’er me. Thought you were broken but you just needed my cock this whole time—”

Burying your face in the sheets bashfully at the mention of Suguru, your cunt pulls more taut around Gojo’s cock.

“—FUHH, g-go out with me yeah, Bunny? Love you s’much—SHIIIIT—buy you whatever you want—t-take you where you want—this dick s’yours Bun Bun—all yours!”

Plunging into deeper if it were even possible Gojo’s blunted nails drug into the fat of your ass and hips, it wouldn’t scar but it would certainly add to the inevitable bruising. 

“I’ll never even look at a non 2D woman again as long as I have you as my lil’ onahole—shit I’ll never even buy one of those again unless it's in the shape of your pussy—F-FUCK, w-wait–y-you think we could get one made in the shape of your pussy–my girlfriend’s perfect pussy?!”

It’s too much—too overwhelming and your mind is slowly but surely being corrupted by Gojo. Otherwise the image of him whining while fucking a onahole casted from your cunt as he watches you finger yourself would have never in a million years popped into your mind. 

Determined to see you unhinged in every respect, Gojo didn’t want to deny you pleasure but if he had to be a little mean to you so you could finally be honest with him then so be it. 

Slowly pulling out, your expression is near frantic as you look back at him. Your mouth gaping and babbling nonsensically for him not for him to stop—you were so close.

Gojo simpers, relishing in your cute cockdrunk face scrunched with confusion from him pulling out so suddenly. 

“W-Words baby, c’mon I just spilled my heart out here!”

Your pussy weeps longingly for Gojo’s cock as your body shakes with a yearning begging to be filled again. 

God help you, you want him. 

You want him and his sinfully curved demon dick badly, it’s all you could think about—Not even remembering what life was like before he so perversely rearranged your guts.  However, not only did he know how to hit all your spots, he knew you—and despite him completely disregarding all of the rules you had initially set, he was the first guy who actually cared about how you felt during sex, even if he was a perverted otaku.

There was simply no use in denying it any longer. 

You caved.

Tears streaming down your face as you hiccupped your admission of affections for him, red-faced and flustered.

“S’toru, I-I’ll be your girlfriend—need you n’need your cock s’much—”

Pressing the side of your face against the mattress you bring a shaky hand through your legs, fingers slipping over your slick as you part your pussy lips—your vacant core exposed and fluttering, begging for him just as hard.

“—m’also you’re onahole T-Toru, I promise i’ll only fuck you, j-just please keep fucking me, i wanna cum on your cock, want your cum in me Toru baby!”

You might die from the shame of it all once you sober up from being utterly cockdrunk and stupefied but all you could think about right now was Gojo’s hard dick laying heavy pipe back into your cunt.

Something snaps in Gojo.

Head over heels for you now, Gojo knew from that moment on he’d never let you go. 

Real or 2D—no could compare to you in Gojo’s eyes. 

Toru finally found something he loved more than digimon—your perfect lil’pussy.

And he was going to show her how much he loved her right now.

Taking what was so graciously presented to him this time around, you’re short circuiting once he’s finally inside you again your most base needs being satiated turning you into a cockfiendish whore crying for him to fuck you harder as you grip his sheets like you could rip them apart. 

His strokes become more merciless, unrelenting on your pussy and Gojo leans his weight onto your back, legs bent crouching on top of you, his hips becoming manic they thrashed forward in short heavy thrusts to hammer you into the mattress.

Gojo himself is beyond gone. 

Disregarding all promises of mentioning otaku shit while he was wrecking your cunt.  

“Fuck bunny this feels better then what I thought Agnewomon’s pussy would be like— you'd look so sexy in that cosplay. Gonna have you dress up for me and show you off at cons. I’ll buy you whatever you want, anything, the whole fucking world yeah? Just fuck—wear those those vibrating panties while you cosplay too, you’d like that?”

You tightened groaning at his debauchery, something that was not missed at all by Gojo who by this point had fucked his own self dumb in your angelic cunt. White strands of his hair stuck to both of your faces as he tiled your head back so he could see how desperately those little hearts danced in your dilated pupils before they were reduced to nothing more than mere splotches whiting out your vision.

“Fuck u really are a slut huh bunny? Tightening at the thought of all those otaku perverts looking at you in that skimpy outfit while I control the buzzing on that lil clit. But they can’t have you—m’the only otaku pervert that knows how to make you cum!”

Delirious with melodic honeyed cries spilling from you, you just wanted him to stop talking—pointing out every single time your body responded to his ecchi tastes becoming your tastes and now just yearning for a taste of him. 

Reaching back you’re pulling him down to smash your lips together. Messy, but you could care as Gojo tried to swallow your tongue fucking his own into your mouth with a force that matched his cock. If fucking you was heaven then kissing you was nirvana—he’d give you the whole world if he could keep fucking you like this forever.

Gojo needs you to cum again soon as the feral need breed your tummy until it swells with his seed has him losing the little sanity he even had to begin with. A virgin until today he’d saved up so much waiting for your tight cunt this whole time. 

Moving his lips away from yours only for air, your chest heaves harmonies cries from his hand weaving under your bodies. Jittery fingers swiped frantically over your clit, hurling you towards your euphoric climax as his lips descend back upon yours.

“Cum Bunny—I got ya baby.”

Deliberately plowing himself harder against your cervix, your body seizes up releasing tension into pure white energy that you swore was pumping through your every vein as an extension of your pussy as his heavy load spurts to paint your walls and sear your insides as his thrusts continue to swill his seed inside you, pushing it further into your womb—-thank fuck for birth control.

However that was the last thing you remember before you go limp, temporarily blacked out as you swear you’ve transcended to a celestial plane of existence. One where all slutted out souls went to escape from the unearthly pleasure they’ve been tortured by. You don’t know how long you’ve been out but you're squirming as you come back to consciousness. Realizing your now back on your back as your hips involuntarily rocking against something thick and wet. 

When you finally manage to open your eyes you're greeted by Gojo tongue slurping at your clit and lapping up the cum oozing out of your battered hole like it was a refreshingly creamy bowl of kakigori. His hands embedded themselves into your thighs pinning them to the bed nibbling on your clit and having your already overstimulated core climaxing on his tongue once more.

Strings of your sticky nectar connect his tongue to your cunt as he looks up at you. Having the audacity to grin lovingly at you as if he didn’t look like a downright starved and deranged man with a sheen of shared fluids dribbling down his chin. He’s pussy drunk once again this time buzzed off the pungent yet sweet taste of his cum marinating in your creamy tenderized cunt.  

Gojo is cheesin’ at you like he’s found his favorite spot in the world—and he had as far as he was concerned.

“You said it was too messy, remember Bunny? The least I can do to make it up to you is scoop every drop out of your runny lil’ cunt with my tongue! What kind of boyfriend would I be to have all this cum soaking my Bunny’s slutty little thong and spilling down her thighs while out to dinner—so I decided to have mine a little early.”

FUCKING HELL—DINNER! What time was it?! 

Disordented, your head is fuzzy and you could feel the soreness settling in your muscles. You didn’t think you’d be able to get out of this bed in the next 24 hours, let alone make it to dinner—if you hadn’t already missed it! 

“Nnnn, n-not like I can go anymore Toru, s’all your f-fault!”

Your bruised lips poke out into pout. Gojo chuckles at you how cute you look and he rises up from between your thick thighs to boop you on the nose as he gazes adoringly at you.

“I know princess m’sorry—I already texted Shoko saying you couldn’t, don’t worry~~”

But your eyes widened as you were now fully worried. 

Worried as to what the fuck Gojo actually texted them! 

“T-Toru—”

“—I just told them you weren’t feeling well, was that okay?”

Quickly assuaging your fears—you can relax a bit for now (although you were sure you’d have a lot of explaining to do later) as Gojo pulls you to him again and softly kisses your neck, hands returning to your ass to rub soothing circles on your chaffed skin. 

Relaxing again floods sleep into your eyes. A welcome godsend honestly, so you can process everything that just happened, especially Gojo aggressively fucking a love confession out of you. 

“And m’sorry if I got carried away Bun… but you were so good for me, so fucking perfect! Just relax and I’ll take care of you! I’ll handle everything—for you and your nasty lil’ cunt. I love you both and I’ll keep both my pretty girls happy forever! I promise!”

Gazing at you with cartoonishly sparkling eyes, you have to look away from Gojo lest your ears altogether burn up in embarrassment from his shameless and yet a hundred percent earnest vocalization of affections that somehow still got your heart racing.

“—oh and my parents will be here tomorrow—we can tell them right? They will be so excited! They've been telling me since I was little I shouldn’t let you get away! Ooo! Ooo! Maybe now that we're dating they’ll let us use their sex dungeon! We need to think of a safe word though Bunny—”

Scarcely comprehending anything he is saying to you, your mind like your pussy had been fully liquified. Both ruthlessly corrupted by Gojo’s long otaku cock and pervy ass fantasies which is no surprise seeing as his family even owns a—

HOL’ THE ENTIRE FUCKUP—A SEX DUNGEON!?

Like a shot of caffeine directly into your veins your eyes nearly pop out of your head as you blink at him dumbfounded, mouth hanging open.  

“Doesn’t that sound fun, Bunny!? My parents are so cool! When I turned 18 my dad even gave me some of his rare and one-of-a-king hentai figures for my collection to get me started and then—”

Tuning him out you’re gagged at the unexpected revelations—and his parents always seemed like such charming n’ decent God fearing people too. Well known to be ruthless in the business world, but upstanding global philanthropists nonetheless.

Well the apple sure as hell didn’t fall too far from the sordid sex fiend tree, that was for damn sure!

Clearly you had no idea what you were getting yourself into or had unleashed by agreeing to be Gojo’s girlfriend. I mean, could no longer deny your growing feelings for him—plus he did just give you multiple back-breaking-terrifyingly-mind-numbing-earth-shattering-orgasms. Not to mention, you would definitely be getting one of every Hermes bag ever made if you wanted one—but at what cost?

Your Dignity? 

Self-respect? 

The right to call yourself a functional and contributing non-degenerate member of society?

Who knows really…

Although perhaps dating a Gojo, the next heir at that, you’d be too rich and highly regarded for people to even care (we’ll except for your friends giving y’all hell but you could eventually make peace with that).

You internally groan as the gentle touches on your bottom morph into lustful gropes and you know your brand new boyfriend would not be granting rest for your totally demolished lil’ pussy anytime soon unless you could distract him a bit.

“—Toru, Toru baby listen, please.”

Interrupting him, you muster the energy to put on the sweetest face you can manage in your exhausted state. 

And of course, Gojo, as always and yet unknowingly, tests the limits of your tolerance.

“Yes, my whittle Bunny, my kinky baby girl—hentai goddess divine?”

Gojo nuzzles your nose in an eskimo kiss as he showers you with ‘loving compliments’. 

Scrunching your face, you grit your teeth through your already weak smile to stop yourself from losing it at him referring to you as ‘hentai goddess divine’—y’all would definitely be having a talk about that as well as appropriate in-public pet names later though.

“Babyyyyy—I’m so sticky and sore, why don’t you be a good boyfriend and get stuff ready for us to take a bath, hm? Maybe find me something else to wear too, hm?”

You did need a bath and you calculated even with his energetic disposition it should take him at least 15-20 minutes to delegate the tasks and get everything together considering how huge his mansion was.

“Oh! Of course, of course! Just wait here! I’ll be right back, my ecchi angel.”

Brow-twitching you sit up to wave at him with another strained smile as he scrambles to put on pants and heads out of his room.

You sigh tiredly and make yourself comfy on his cloud like pillows. 

Thinking he’s finally left and you can savor some much needed time to make peace with what you got yourself into by agreeing to be the girlfriend of an otaku nerd like Gojo Satoru—

—when his head suddenly peaks back in the room with a sheepish look on his face.

“Heh, you know Bunny, was thinking—you really didn’t think I could code crack your cute lil’ cunt now did ya?”

Your eyes are closed but your fists are balling angrily gripping onto the pillows surrounding you.

“Don’t worry Bunny, yours is the only pussy my dick is digidestined for!”

With that, Gojo narrowly avoids the Agumon pillow plushie that is swiftly hurled at his head as he dashes away from the door, his merry yet hysterical laughter echoing through the halls.

©blkkizzat 2024. do not steal works or gfx, do not translate.

⏭ a/n: this fic was wayyyy too long but i've been kinda mean to y'all gojo glazers lately rejoicing in your sorrows cause you are now miserable like the rest of us lmfao, so consider this y'alls bone :P tbh im kinda surprised this is the first full gojo fic i've written lol, it was fun tho cause otaku!gojo is a freak for pussy would drive you insane in all the right and wrong ways. i still have invisible man gojo and ceo/professor gojo planned tho (plus that frat boy satosugu request).

eta: serieslist

reblogs and comments are my life's blood ty ᥫ᭡ .ᐟ

[pukicho]

You've changed, man. I don't know what it is but some time in the past six months your shitposting got a bitter edge to it. Sure you could blame the political climate or world events on it but...I dunno. I used to scroll your blog to momentarily escape the hardships of today but now it feels like even you're not a safe place any more. I wish you luck on your journeys onwards but I'm sorry to say I cannot travel with you any more. Be well, puki, and I hope whatever troubles you passes.

Escapism is important and I try to offer that to a degree, but ultimately, I am a person. I experience hardships, I empathize with the worsening conditions of my world. As long as I care about things external to myself, I will subtlety, or blatantly express them in some way in my blog, which I’ve done for years, not merely 6 months.

Unbeknownst to you, these concerns are often the inspiration for some of my most beloved posts.

You’re free to leave of course, if my 1 serious post out of every 30 fucks your day up that badly, then please, feel free! - I simply don’t see my blog as escapist fluff, it never has been, even if that is often the outcome. My page has always been about my interests, and I just so happen to enjoy making people laugh.

I see it more as a fun place to hang out and express the feelings I feel inclined to express, most of which are fun and goofy, some of which are not. I love our little playful back-and-forths, and I enjoy seeing your insights, even if some of you are fucking stupid as shit. Sometimes I just like using you guys as little guinea pigs, testing my odd expressions out on you, and sitting back and seeing the outcome.

Ultimately, I try to balance balance 3 things on my page:

Comedy, as you know - I like making jokes, I like testing them out on people. Even if they suck, I like writing them regardless. Sometimes I sit back after writing something I know objectively sucks, hit send, and watch as everyone tells me how much it sucks. It brings me joy.

A desire for money - because if not, I wouldn't be able to make posts half as often as I do (ie, shirt sales, promoting my music, etc) - Sometimes that anxiety for money also bleeds into my posts, it has for years; and I hold back from being even more desperate about money than I feel I should be sometimes.

And the point you brought up: The occasional comment on something real that matters to me. - Over the past 3 years, if not longer, I’ve made a few uncharacteristically-serious statements on things like Covid, Gaza, The Presidency, hell, even the indigenous people of Australia... and more.

Why do I feel inclined to discuss these things? Because I want to. My page has always been about what I want. Fortunately for you, what I usually want to do is to make you laugh! But sometimes I wish to express other feelings, because I have a platform that allows my voice to travel further than that of others!

For those angry at all the qualms I don't bring up, try to understand my balancing act, as someone who understands your desire for escapism, and the comfort that it brings you. If the veil falls, remember, we are of like-company - - and maybe, this veil was only ever in your head to begin with.

[satoruxx]

normally toji prides himself on being the perfect guard dog—not that he would ever tell you that. but you never have to worry about guys coming up to you when your hulking monster of a boyfriend remains at your side, continuously glaring down his nose at everyone he sees.

this usually works pretty well.

on adults.

but now, as you and him wait in line at the counter of the grocery store, he can only let out a huff of irritation as he watches the little brat in front of you both stare over his mother’s shoulder—big wide eyes locked on you.

at first you don’t really notice, too busy blabbering about something silly as you look around the store. but when you finally lock eyes with the child, you notice the way he seems to go shy, pressing his cheek deeper into his mom’s shoulder. his eyes flick away from your face for just a second, before timidly looking back. as soon as he does, you break into the sweetest, most giddy smile.

(toji would move mountains for a glimpse of that smile—and yet here this kid is just getting it without a shred of work.)

you tilt your head, raising a hand to gently wave at the boy, who flushes further under your attention, but lifts his cheek a little more. chubby fingers come up to meekly wave back, and you hold back a silent coo of affection, eyes filled with honey-like sweetness. with every little giggle and silly face you make at the boy, he seems to get more and more comfortable—toji watches you melt.

the unlucky little brat then quickly peeks at the giant man looming beside you, and toji can’t resist. his face pulls into a evil smile, teeth on full display as he wiggles his fingers sinisterly. the expression has its desired effect—the kid recoils, eyes going wide before burying his face into his mother’s neck. in a few minutes, the boy and his mom are heading out the store and you and toji start loading the groceries onto the belt.

“i saw that, you know?”

toji glances up, seeing your semi disapproving frown, and he cocks his head in faux innocence. “saw what?”

“you’re mean,” you shake your head, crossing your arms. “scaring little kids like that. quite literally the object of their nightmares.”

“ah, he’ll be alright,” toji grunts, taking the bags from the cashier in one hand and reaching for your palm with the other. “it’ll build his character.”

you snort. “he’ll have trauma.”

“like i said,” he grins, a canine display. “character.”

you roll your eyes as he tugs you out of the store—your grip on him unwilling to falter.

toji lives just like this, successful in scaring off any other person who considers giving you attention, whether that’s an adult or a little kid. and despite your exasperated complaints to at least lay off the children (they’re harmless), toji has known for a long time that he can be nothing but selfish when it comes to you.

so forgive him, if he quickly turns to this evil little tactic to scare away kids—it’s all he can really do. besides, it always works.

until now.

you’re sitting under a tree at a small park, working on some dumb assignment for one of your lectures. toji lays on his back next to you, arm draped over his eyes in a momentary respite from the normal danger of his life—eerily content.

the peace is broken by the rustling of tiny footsteps in the grass.

“here you go.”

toji pulls his arm away to peer at the owner of the voice. a boy stands there, hair tousled as he waits in front of you with his arm outstretched—in between his chubby fingers is a singular dandelion.

your eyes widen, cheeks splitting into a wide smile as you coo out your affection. “aw for me?”

the boy nods mutely, cheeks flushed as he thrusts the flower further into your view. you delicately pluck it from his hands, inhaling the fragrance with a grateful smile. “well thank you. it’s beautiful.”

he shyly kicks at a spot of grass, lips pulling up into a giddy smile under your sweet praise. “just like you,” he mumbles under his breath and you squeal softly, giggling at how adorable this kid truly is.

toji sits up before you can say anything else, lips pulled into a displeased frown as he crosses his bulky arms across his chest. “hey.” his voice comes out low and tense, even as he stares down his nose at the boy. “what are you doing?”

you turn to look at your boyfriend, at the exaggerated sneer that normally works wonders in scaring kids away, and you hold back an exasperated sigh. “toji—“

“who are you?” the boy frowns, sass appearing out of thin air as he looks toji up and down like he’s nothing but dirt under his colorful sneakers. you gape at him, eyes darting back and forth between the two as a smile threatens to make its way into your face. toji’s lips part in surprise, a tingle of heat crawling up his neck as he hears your hushed gasp of held back laughter.

“her boyfriend,” he grunts back, eyes narrowed in a way that’s oddly similar to the expression on the kid’s face.

“no way!” the boy huffs, pouting indignantly. his cheeks flush as he glares at toji—unfazed.

“uh, yes way.” toji realizes how petty he sounds, but he’s adamant—unwilling to stand down in anything that involves you.

the boy crosses his arms, mirroring toji’s pose. he rolls his eyes emphatically, lip curling as he sneers down his nose.

“isn’t she too pretty for you?” he asks bluntly. you smother another disbelieving gasp, and toji suddenly feels an unfamiliar thrill rush through his veins—this kid had guts.

“what do you know, brat?” there’s a smirk evident in toji’s voice now, and he uncrosses his arms to lean back on his palms, eyes shining with feral mirth.

“i have eyes,” the boy snaps back, putting both hands on his hips to appear more intimidating—it doesn’t work, he just looks cuter. “i can see her.”

“well quit it,” toji huffs in return. “not yours to look at.”

the kid narrows his eyes. “you’re mean!”

“and you’re nosy!”

“how am i nosy?”

“you’re comin’ over here and givin’ my girl flowers!”

“she deserves flowers!”

“of course she does! from me, you little brat!”

“you suck, old man!”

“what did you just call me?!”

a shout from across the park disrupts the heated bickering, and you all turn to see an older woman waving the boy over. he looks down at you, a sweet smile washing over his face as he tilts his head innocently. “that’s my mom. i have to go home now.”

“heh, sure thing. get home safe, okay?” you shoot toji an amused glance as you speak, and he sends a displeased glare back as he stubbornly crosses his arms again.

the boy nods, beaming at you. “okay! see you later!” he chirps. but just as he’s about to leave he turns back, eyes fixated on toji. “i hope your boyfriend learns how to be nice!”

and then he runs off.

you snort out another laugh, which only gets louder when you catch a glimpse of the way toji is practically sulking in the corner—scowling at the kid’s back with narrowed eyes.

the whole thing is so unbelievably endearing, and you can’t stop grinning as you pack up your things and stand up.

“let’s go home, toji.” you hold your palm out for him, and you’re rewarded with a pointed glance—he takes your hand anyway. even as you both exit the park, toji has an unamused pout on his face, glaring ahead.

you can’t resist.

“don’t tell me you actually feel threatened now,” you giggle, grabbing his bicep and pressing close. toji glances at you from the corner of his eyes, unamused—which only seems to make you laugh harder. “oh come on! he was so cute!”

“little brat,” he grumbles in return. “couldn’t take a hint.”

“you’re mad because the eight year old kid at the park didn’t want to believe you were my boyfriend?”

“the fuck do you think? of course i am. what do i look like if not your fucking boyfriend?”

you chortle, practically falling on him with the weight of your amusement. he sighs, disgruntled.

“it’s not funny, kid.” toji rolls his eyes at you—internally, he’s trying not to grin.

“it’s so funny, toji.” you straighten up, smiling at him with stars in your eyes. “you’re ridiculous and it’s so cute.”

he scoffs, giving you a sidelong glance before reaching up to tug at your cheek. “i’m definitely not the cute one.” he murmurs offhandedly before internally smirking at the way you seem to be caught off guard by his statement.

“whatever,” you mumble, holding his arm as you both continue walking home in relative silence. from the corner of your eye you can see toji’s expression as he mutely stares ahead, deep in thought. you decide not to disturb him, content on just feeling his warmth bleeding into your palm—always at your side.

toji replays the incident in his head multiple times as you head home. the bickering, the sass, and the unfiltered adoration that little brat seemed to have for you.

something clicks.

as you’re pushing open the door of your apartment, you hear toji quietly chuckle from behind you, and you turn to look at him over you shoulder. “what?”

he shakes his head slowly, eyes shut even as an uncharacteristically soft smile tugs at his lips. “just thinking…”

“about what?” you ask curiously.

toji grins at you, cocking his head fondly. “when we have a kid, i want the little brat to be just like that.”

[miihho]

Can you write type of guy headcanons for thanos (230) please? thx <33

THE KIND OF GUY

(squid game edition) nsfw

English

Korean

Thanos / Player 230

—THANOS IS THE KIND OF GUY who’d shamelessly flirt with you, his words dripping with confidence and charm. He’d slip in Spanish pet names like "señorita" so naturally, it was as if he were born to sweep you off your feet.

There was one day when he suddenly dropped to his knees, a smirk dancing on his lips as he grabbed your hand gently. "I might just start my own religion, because of how often I find myself on my knees for you." He said as he brought your hand to his lips and kissed it, his gaze never leaving yours. You felt your face heat up, a soft blush spreading across your cheeks at the boldness of his actions.

He’d also call you every sweet name in the book—"baby," "angel," "princess," "beautiful"—each one rolling off his tongue with effortless confidence. And if that weren’t enough, he’d take it a step further, rapping his feelings for you in a way that was both cheesy and undeniably endearing.

—He’s the kind of guy who’d have a slow-burn romance without even realizing it. At first, it’s nothing more than casual interactions, small moments here and there. He doesn’t notice the shift—how his thoughts linger on you longer than they should, how he starts to care just a little bit more. It’s gradual, almost imperceptible, until one random moment hits him. Like it would suddenly click that he likes you. And now, he can’t stop thinking about it.

—He’s the kind of guy who wouldn’t give up on you, no matter how many times you ignored him. Your cold shoulder, your silence—it didn’t faze him. If anything, it only fueled his determination. He’d chase after you relentlessly, his confidence unwavering, his charm impossible to ignore, until you had no choice but to face him.

He spotted you weaving through the crowd, your determined strides screaming leave me alone. Naturally, that only made his grin wider. He adjusted his jacket, his confidence as unshakable as ever, and started after you.

"Señorita!" he called out, you didn’t even glance back at him, but when he saw your pace quicken, it only fueled his determination. He caught up easily, walking alongside you like he belonged there.

"Ah, playing hard to get? I like that," he teased, tilting his head to glance at you with that infuriatingly smug smile. "But you know, you make it way too easy for me to chase you baby. You’re irresistible."

You rolled your eyes and turned sharply, hoping to lose him in the crowd. But the next corner you turned, there he was—leaning casually against a wall, arms crossed, like he’d been waiting there all along.

"Miss me already?" he teased with a smirk, his body blocking your path. "You can run, but you can't hide princess. Not from me."

You tried to sidestep him, but before you could get far, he placed a hand dramatically over his heart, feigning hurt. "Ouch, breaking my heart like that? Really?"

You scoffed, rolling your eyes in disbelief. "Just stop, I can’t stand you."

With a smirk that practically oozed confidence, he leaned in slightly, his voice teasing yet bold. "Then just sit on my face."

"W-what!?" You froze, eyes wide with shock, your heart pounding. "Just fuck off!" you snapped, brushing past him quickly, your face flushed in a mix of embarrassment and irritation.

He chuckled, watching you retreat with that same infuriating smirk. But you knew, as much as you tried to get away, he wouldn’t stop. He was persistent, and no matter how many times you brushed him off, he’d keep following, keep bothering you.

—He’s the kind of guy who wouldn’t tolerate some random guy flirting with you. If he saw it happening, he wouldn’t hesitate to step in. He’d interrupt the conversation, push the guy back with a forceful shove, and growl, "Back off man! Who the fuck do you think you are hitting on my girl!?" (Yeah even tho you're not his yet)

If the guy was making you laugh or smile, he’d simmer in silence, his jealousy simmering beneath the surface. Once the guy was alone, he’d track him down, corner him, and with a dangerous edge to his voice, he’d lean in, his eyes burning with fury.

"Stay the fuck away from Y/n. Got it?" He said, his fist landing a brutal punch to the guy’s stomach, leaving him crumpled on the floor. "She’s my girl," he’d add, his tone low and possessive. "My woman."

—He’s the kind of guy who can’t help but yell, "Ah, there’s my girl!" with a huge grin spreading across his face when you made it out alive. Without a second thought, he’d rush to you, scoop you up in a tight embrace, and hold you like he’d never let go. "I’m so happy you're alive, baby. God, you don’t know how much I missed you." His grip would tighten as if to never let you slip away again.

—He’s the kind of guy who isn’t intimidated by you. He’ll rush toward you, full of energy, relieved that you made it through when the lights went out. While everyone else stood frozen in fear, staring in shock, you were casually wiping blood off your hands, having taken down a whole group without breaking a sweat.

—He’s the kind of guy who can’t believe he’s dating you after you finally accepted him. Like, a guy like him? Sure, he’s Thanos and pretty damn cool, but damn, you’re way cooler than him. So, every now and then, he’ll just blurt out, “Damn, I’m dating her?” when he thinks about you, or “I can’t believe she’s mine.” and his friend will just stare at him, completely weirded out.

—He's the kind of guy who's wildly in love with you, the type to fight a wild animal just to impress you. He lives to make you laugh, even if it means pulling off the dumbest, most ridiculous stunts. His love is chaotic, loud, and endlessly entertaining, but that's what makes it so unforgettable.

One day he tried to bake you a cake from scratch, only to set off the smoke alarm—but he still proudly presented you with the lopsided, half-burnt result, claiming it was "made with love." Or he'd show up at your door with a bouquet made of random wildflowers (and weeds), proudly declaring it’s “nature’s finest” while grinning like a fool.

—He’s the kind of guy who would let you paint his nails in any color you choose or decorate them however you like, all because he loves you and wants you to have that little piece of him.

—Thanos is the kind of guy who always needs to be in physical contact with you when you're together—his hand on your thigh, his arm around your shoulders. He craves that connection, that constant reassurance of your presence. Public displays of affection? He couldn’t care less. If you want him to kiss you in front of everyone, consider it done. If you mention he can kiss you after a game, why would he wait for privacy when he can claim you right in front of his friends? For him, it’s not just about the kiss—it’s about showing the world that you’re his and making sure you feel adored, no matter where you are.

—He’s the kind of guy who’s utterly captivated by your thighs, completely addicted to the way they feel wrapped around him. There’s nowhere else he’d rather be, no place more intoxicating than being suffocated by your softness.

He doesn’t just admire them—he worships them. His lips leave a trail of love marks along your skin, his way of claiming every inch as his own. Between kisses, his voice comes out low and teasing, filled with desire. (He also loves eating you out while you're wrapping your thighs around his head and getting suffocated by it. )

—He’s the kind of guy who would cover you in hickeys, leaving them all over your neck and thighs, a clear sign that you’ve been claimed and are already his. With a smirk, he’d tell you he’s just marking his priority, as if every mark is a reminder of who you belong to.

—He’s the kind of guy who’d proudly show you off to his friends with a grin and say, “Yeah, this my girl right here.” And damn, he wouldn’t just say it—he’d feel like the luckiest guy alive to have you by his side.

—He’s the kind of guy who doesn’t just take you—he claims you. If he ever finds out you're with someone else, he'll make sure you remember exactly who you belong to.

Thanos' rough words dripped with condescension as he gripped your hips, pulling you onto his thick shaft in one brutal thrust. You cried out, your nails digging into his shoulders as he began to pound into your mercilessly. "You're fucking mine, this fucking tight pussy is mine," he snarled, his balls slapping against your ass with each savage stroke. "This fat cock is the only thing you need. That pathetic loser can't touch this, can he?" He reached down to rub you clit, his fingers pinching the sensitive bud as he continued to ravage you. "Hngg!...—pls s'too much! too much! Thanos m'sorry p-please I w-won't do it again."

"Stop?" He chuckled, "We both know you love this. Being used like a cheap whore, stuffed full of dick. Admit it, you'd rather choke on my cum than go back to that limp-dicked loser."

—Hes the kind of guy who loves messy blow jobs. The sight of your lips stretched obscenely around his throbbing cock, your eyes glazed over in blissful submission, he fucking loves it. Loves how you surrendered completely, letting him control every movement as he fucks your mouth.

"Fuck... Your throat was made for my dick, wasn't it? Such a perfect fit, like you were born to worship my cock." he moaned, tangling his fingers in your hair and using your mouth like a cheap fleshlight as he chased his pleasure. The wet sounds of sloppy oral sex filled the air, punctuated by your muffled whimpers and gurgles. (Gosh he fucking loves that) "Fuck yes... hngg—take it baby, take it all, you filthy little cumdump!" His hips snapped forward, burying his cock to the hilt in your gullet while thick ropes of cum spilled in your mouth, forcing you to gag and sputter around his girth. "Look at you, such a good girl, gagging on my dick like it's your purpose in life. You were meant to be a cumdump, weren't you? Fucking slut."

—He's the kind of guy who loses his shit when you squirt into his mouth, he just fucking loves it when you're flooding his mouth with your ambrosial release. Saying "Holy shit," "I love you so fucking much baby," "Mmmm, you're fucking addictive as hell, baby. Can't get enough of this sweet juices." as he greedily laps up every drop. Just the taste of your squirting orgasm would send him into a fucking frenzy.

—He's the kind of guy who takes you apart piece by piece every time he gets you alone, his usual cruel exterior dissolving into raw, unbridled need. He doesn't just touch you—he worships you, his mouth and hands working in perfect harmony to draw out every moan, every shiver, every scream he can pull from you.

"You’re so fucking beautiful when you cum for me," he'd say, his voice dripping with hunger as his fingers curl inside you, hitting that perfect spot over and over again. His lips never leave your skin, trailing kisses and bites down your thighs, across your stomach, up to your neck.

"Look at you, spread open and dripping for me like the filthy little slut you are," he taunted, dragging a finger through your slick folds. "I bet all those prissy boys never made you feel this good, did they? They probably couldn't handle a real woman like you." he whispers, his breath hot against your ear as your body writhes beneath him. Even when your legs shake and your cries turn into breathless pleas, he doesn’t stop. He keeps you teetering on the edge, drawing out orgasm after orgasm until you’re left trembling, completely undone, and utterly his.

[kamitv]

Higuruma’s the kinda guy that has no idea how the hell he pulled you so every time your eyes linger on him a little bit too long, he gets nervous as fuck. Sweat will trickle down the back of his neck and he gulps loudly enough for you to hear it, to which you start smiling at him.

Those wide-set eyes of his carefully drag back over to you and he notices the way you’re staring at his nose. You always gush about how much you love that part of his face and ever since then he can’t control the twitch beneath his slacks as he replays exactly why you love his nose so much in his head.

And hey, it’s no help that you’re sitting right on top of him right now. Your manicured nails that he paid for grazing all over his skin, touching his neck, his jawline, and soon his face too. Then you lean in and kiss the bridge of his nose so softly that it makes him grunt.

“You’re so perfect Hiromi,” You’d hush out to him in that tone you know drives him craze.

Higuruma is left slouching further back into the couch and spreading his legs further apart with a not-so-subtle roll of his hips upwards against you. “Please. That’s all you, sweetheart.” He tries to play it off as if he’s not complete putty in your hands but lord knows when you start trailing your touch down his breath his hitching in his throat.

You smile—a sight he can never get enough of, truly. “Take the compliment, Hiro. I’m bein’ serious…” Your fingers are wrapping around his tie now and his eyelids are all low on you.

Still trying to play it off, this time with a chuckle, he hums. “…Thank you, love.” He’s such a gentleman too, all easygoing and relaxed for you.

Which says a lot considering the kind of man he becomes while he’s fucking you.

Higuruma isn’t exactly mean, nor is he much of a talker during sex but… His cock damn sure says a lot as he later fucks up into you just to hear those sweet praises you give him.

You just love complimenting your man and he loves being complimented—honestly the perfect match for each other.

Every moan of his name that leaves your lips only drive him deeper and deeper inside you. He’s so stupidly in love with you and most times it shows through sex instead of words. Despite how he’ll have you bouncing up and down on his left curved cock for hours, this is the most passion you’ll get from the overworked man.

And when he does open his mouth to speak, your cunt is fluttering around his thick head. Whispering a crisply husk utterance of, “Fuck. Ride me, love. Ride me juuus’ like that. Y-Yeahhh. Shit. Love these fuckin’ hips, don’t stop movin’ ‘em.”

Your moaning grows louder by the second and he’s guiding you up and down his dick, eyes rolling to the back of his head with every perfect slam of your ass down onto him. His groans are so deep that they practically bounce off of the walls of your living room, leading you to clamp around him tighter than before.

Higuruma especially loves your nails for some reason. He can’t get enough of how they feel ghosting his skin every time you move your arms or whenever you move to grab ahold of his face and lean down to kiss him. That’s why he’s always paying for them (even though he secretly loves spoiling you too).

Then, when you get a bit more confident and slip your hands down to hold onto his arms, he groans again. His grip on your hips would tighten and there’s just one wet plop after another while you ride him in earnest.

Which is what prompts filthy words to pour out of his mouth like, “Uhuh, fuck yourself on my cock, pretty girl. C’mon, you can do it. Make yourself feel good. Use me baby, use me.”

Again, he’s not much of a talker but sometimes you cause the words to just spill from his lips. While he’s spewing filth out to you, you’re getting closer and closer to a messy release. It’s right as you’re about to cum that he demands you look him in the eyes (no matter the position) so that he can watch them gloss over as you cum all around his girthy cock.

You look so fucking gorgeous when you come undone too—it’s a sight Higuruma simply can’t get enough of. Half the time, he ends up fucking his cum up into you just because of that look alone. You wouldn’t even be able to move or run from his deep thrusts, feeling every inch of his carry against your walls until his cum is fucked all the way in to the point that it’s dribbling out of you.

It’s messy but, he loves it. He loves you. And even after sex, he still doesn’t understand how the hell he’s managed to bag a beautiful woman such as yourself…