𝑻𝑹 𝑴𝑬𝑵 𝑨𝑵𝑫 𝑻𝑯𝑬𝑰𝑹 𝑯𝑬𝑨𝑽𝒀 𝑩𝑨𝑳𝑳𝑺

✩ ‧₊˚ ✩ how long does it take to fuck your brother's best friend? (four whole days)

synopsis. suguru comes home to visit from college at the same time you do—except he brings satoru along. this is going to be a long break

word count. 8.5k (i am tired of this tomfoolery)

contents. college! au, brother's best friend! satoru, fem! reader, minors do not interact, three-year age gap (you're both early twenties), slightly mean satoru (when you’re kids), slight enemies to lovers, jealous! satoru, mentions of reader having an ex-bf, male masturbation, satoru is taller + carries reader, cunnilingus, fingering, handjobs, unprotected sex, brief mentions of alcohol (satoru), creampie, pet names (baby + sweetheart), not proofread i could not be bothered i’m sorry

notes. this was not supposed to be this long bye i am embarrassingly down bad for the blue-eyed freak

everyone knows that where there is satoru, there is suguru—and likewise, where there is suguru, there is satoru.

they’re a bit of a packaged deal, really. satoru befriends your brother in what you think must be some twisted stroke of luck—there is no way suguru would lower his standards for some rich bastard who’s had life made for him since the day he was born. but apparently, he does, and you’re stuck with a white-haired nuisance in your house at least once a week. for years.

you’ve known satoru since he was a whiny, snot-faced, and spoiled little brat. back then, he used to call you toothless—you were six, it’s normal for children at the age of six to lose a few teeth. just because satoru is nine and has grown his teeth back doesn’t mean he escaped the toothless phase himself—but satoru is just a jerk like that, pushes your buttons, and calls out your insecurities to get a good laugh.

you don’t smile with your mouth open even once around him that summer, not until suguru assures you that regardless of how many teeth you have, you have a lovely smile.

when you’re twelve, puberty does its thing, and now you’re stuck with acne-prone skin—also a normal occurrence for people your age, but satoru makes sure to point out the giant pimple on your forehead every time he sees you. you make sure to let him know his haircut is as awful as his sense of style, and suguru tries his best not to choke himself with his charger as you both bicker.

satoru is gone that entire summer for a family cruise that you’re sure costs double your house—he comes back frighteningly taller than you remember him within the span of just a few weeks.

it’s been like that since you were kids. he comes over, finds a new thing to pick on through his smug grins and smooth chuckles, and you fume as you bite back with just as snarky rebuttals. he makes sure to never cross the line of going too far—it’s more for suguru’s sake, you’re fairly sure—but stays right on the dot of getting just under your skin.

he’s annoying. a jerk. a rich snob. a privileged dickhead. he’s rude and disrespectful, with no tact, let alone any semblance of respect. you don’t understand what could possibly make suguru want to hang around such a douchebag, but suguru cares about satoru—and satoru has always been there for your brother.

you don’t understand it, but you respect it. as long as he doesn’t wet your entire bathroom sink and mirror in the mornings after he stays over, you suppose you can coexist.

but you haven’t seen him in ages—not outside of suguru’s instagram stories and posts. it’s been a long few years since the two of them have left for college, and by the time you leave too, life has its funny way of working, and, well…you don’t bump into him anymore. it doesn’t occur to you that satoru is not the same guy you used to know until you come back home to visit after your second year of college.

“suguru,” you call, “i borrowed your hoodie. but you can have it back—”

you cut yourself off when you open the door to your brother’s room, and lo and behold, stands a very shirtless gojo satoru, the white-haired and blue-eyed asshole you’ve had to deal with since childhood. except he’s way taller than you remember him—just how much does this guy grow, exactly? his shoulders are broader and….and since when did he have abs? there’s a small tattoo just under his collarbone—when did he even get that? his hair is also longer, just enough to fall over his forehead and curtain those striking blue eyes of his.

he looks…well, handsome. very handsome, in fact. dangerously handsome that it catches you by surprise as you blink.

he’s still shirtless, holding his t-shirt in his hands as he grins.

“hey, toothless,” he greets, voice deeper than the last time you heard it—but it still sounds relatively the same. you think you’d always recognize satoru’s voice, whether you’d like to or not. and, of course, he just has to still use that ridiculous nickname after all these years. “long time no see.”

“i have all my teeth now—i have for a long time, y’know. and put a shirt on, you freak,” you huff, rolling your eyes, “where’s suguru?”

“what, you don’t enjoy the view?” he motions at his bare torso, like the shameless bastard he is, “most girls love this view—”

“and yet, you’re still single,” you cut him off, staring at him pointedly.

he grins impossibly wider, tugging his shirt over his body swiftly—you have to exercise all ounces of control not to gulp as you watch his biceps flex.

“keepin’ track of my love life?” he wiggles his brows, “i know older men can be appealing but have a little class. your poor brother would lose his shit if you went after his best friend—”

“satoru,” you sigh, pinching your nose, “do you age backward or something? how are you still this obnoxious after so long?”

“i practice in the mirror,” he winks, “it’s my charm.”

“that’s hardly charming,” you roll your eyes, “anyway, whenever suguru comes back, let him know i left his hoodie, yeah?”

“sure,” he chuckles.

and then you close the door as you leave—right before you stop, pause, and open it up again as you’re sticking your head back in when you make a shocking realization.

“wait, how long are you here for?” you ask, eyes wide.

he has the audacity to look smug as he taps his chin and pretends to think—“oh, y’know. just the rest of break. my old man took my mom on some trip, so i’m killing time here,” he shrugs.

great. lovely. wonderful. just what you needed.

you wish he’d drop dead—maybe suguru will finally be forced to go outside of his one-man circle and actually befriend some respectable people.

“you can’t just stay at your place?” you hiss, “it’s certainly big enough.”

“well, why be lonely in an empty home when we can have fun here?” he hums, “consider yourself lucky—you get to be housemates with me for a—”

“keep to yourself,” you warn, cutting him off again through narrowed eyes and a dangerous glare—satoru only looks more amused, raising his hands up in surrender.

with that, you turn again and almost shut the door when he calls for you—“hey, toothless,” he says lowly, making you pause before turning to him with a raised brow. he smiles—it’s so unlike that usual smirk of his…somehow this one is a bit gentler as he murmurs, “you look good. grew up well, y’know.”

you blink. you’re not ready for that…didn’t expect a compliment from gojo satoru himself—especially not after all this time of throwing mediocre insults your way.

you decide he must be messing with you, so you purse your lips as you click your teeth in irritation. “yeah, sure,” you say dryly.

you can hear his chuckles as you close the door again—this is going to be a long break.

—————

just as expected, the house is simply not big enough for you and satoru.

the first time you run into him happens to be first thing after waking up—you’re walking up to the door just as he twists the knob and opens it, walking out shirtless. again.

this time, however, he’s got beads of water rolling down his skin from his shower, right between his pecs, as a towel hangs around his shoulders. you can see his tattoo from up close now, a small infinity sign right under his collarbone that contrasts against his pale skin.

how tacky, you think—just as you’d expect, even his choice of tattoos is questionable.

his hair is wet—it’s sticking to his forehead instead of the multiple directions it usually scatters around in that messy way it always does. you’ve only felt satoru’s hair once—when you were fifteen, and you’d hit him in the back of the head as you walked past him at the breakfast table. he’d made a jab at your dark circles. tests were around the corner, and unlike satoru, your grades actually mattered. you didn’t expect his hair to be so soft, but it is, and you almost itch to twirl the strands around your fingers for a quick feel.

instead, you scowl and stomp off to your room as soon as your dishes are washed.

his hair is probably just as soft now—maybe even softer now that he actually probably cares to look after it. you’ve heard suguru grumble about using two-in-one shampoo too many times when he comes back from spending the night at satoru’s. for a second, your fingers twitch to reach up and brush through a few strands on his forehead—just to feel them because they look soft. nothing else.

the urge is quickly killed as soon as he opens his mouth, however.

“oh, hey there, roomie,” he grins, “you’re really doing all you can to catch me half naked, huh?”

“don’t flatter yourself,” you grumble.

“i’m just sayin’,” he chuckles, “that’s twice now. if you ask nicely, i might walk around like this just for you.”

it’s way too early for this.

by early, it’s actually late noon. now that finals aren’t killing your free time, you stay up until ungodly hours to catch up with your social life—and it doesn’t help that you can hear satoru and suguru stay up playing video games the next room over, either. suguru is probably still sleeping.

that’s a bit of a shocker, in fact—usually, it’s satoru that has to be dragged out of your brother’s room to have breakfast (or brunch, really) before the kitchen is cleared up. why satoru is up first is beyond you.

maybe it’s just a cruel way for the universe to enjoy watching more of your veins pop.

“does that apply to asking you to leave? because then i suppose i can ask rather politely.”

he grins, eyes sparkling with amusement as he shoots you that smile with those pearly whites that irritate you to no end. you’re not sure why, but something about his smile looks so much different nowadays—something about it just seems so….mature.

that’s a word you didn’t think you’d ever use to describe satoru.

“mm, not quite,” he hums, “you’re still stuck with me.”

“whatever,” you mutter, rolling your eyes. “move, i want to shower before suguru wakes up.”

“you have time,” he steps to the side, letting you enter the bathroom, “he’s probably not waking up anytime soon—woah.”

satoru’s shirt is on the floor—why, you may ask? because he’s an annoying idiot who doesn’t have to clean up after himself when people have always been around to do it for him. he never has to care to aim and toss his clothes into the hamper because the maids will pick up after him anyway. old habits die hard, you suppose—you’ve listened to suguru complain about satoru’s messiness not improving even after being his roommate for the last few years. it’s never been your problem, but you don’t appreciate it now that you’re slipping over the fabric on the tiled floor, falling backwards with a squeal.

but satoru’s quick—he catches you with those strong arms of his and wraps them tightly around you, keeping you securely in place as he steadies you against his chest.

his bare chest, in fact.

you can feel the slight dampness seeping into your shirt, and you can feel his hot breath on your neck as he exhales in relief once he makes sure you’re safe. you almost shiver—almost, but you manage to scrape together enough self-control to stay painfully still in his grasp.

“you okay?” he murmurs gently, voice a low whisper against your skin. there’s no bite to his words. no amusement or teasing or even smugness. it’s genuine, the way he checks on you.

this is…new. very, very new.

“yeah,” you breathe, letting out a sharp breath. and then—“maybe keep your clothes in the fucking hamper next time, though.”

“sorry,” the smile in his voice is almost audible—you can’t see it from where you are, but you can hear it in his voice. you roll your eyes, and satoru makes no move to loosen his arms around you. for some reason, you don’t move.

you’re not sure why, but you just don’t.

“you’re still just as messy, huh?” you roll your eyes—he laughs, and it’s a smooth, boyish chuckle that almost makes you wonder for a moment if this is why girls seem to love satoru so much despite his god-awful personality.

it’s a pretty beautiful sound—you hate that you have to admit that to yourself.

“yeah,” he admits, “it drives suguru nuts.”

“yeah, i can’t imagine why,” you snort. it’s like that for a moment—satoru’s muscled arms around you and hard chest pressed against your back. finally, you clear your throat. “you can let go now, you know.”

“right,” he mumbles, slowly pulling away—and when you turn to face him….is that disappointment? on his face? you don’t get a chance to be sure because then he’s bending down to pick up his shirt before he’s standing—he’s already wiped the expression from his features completely by then. “sorry about that, toothless. i’ll keep my shirts off the floor next time.”

“that would be so kind of you,” you smile sarcastically.

and then you shut the door in his face and exhale as you lean against the wall.

this is going to be a longer break than you thought.

—————

the next time you run into him, it’s late at night. everyone is asleep—even your brother and his headache of a best friend, if the silence tells you anything. you can’t sleep, though, so you make your way to the kitchen to hunt for snacks. you’re skimming through the pantry before your eyes land on a surprise—a box of strawberry pocky sits nice and enticingly, right there for you to open and devour.

you grin, reaching over when—

“those are mine,” satoru calls, stepping into the kitchen, “brought them over myself. you should ask before touching people’s things.”

“you literally ate my leftovers the other night,” you say incredulously.

“those were yours? i thought they were suguru’s.” he raises a brow in surprise, making you click your teeth in irritation.

“the principle of asking still applies,” you purse your lips. and then defiantly, you open the box and grab a pack right before his eyes.

he scowls—but you know he doesn’t actually mind because he waits for you to finish grabbing yours before taking the box and grabbing his own pack and a coke from the fridge. you both take a seat at the kitchen table, across from each other, as you open the packaging and silently eat your newfound snack.

it’s satoru who breaks the silence first.

“do you still throw away the ends of these?”

you huff indignantly, not meeting his eyes as you take a bite off the strawberry-covered end, stopping at just where the cookie portion is uncoated. “yes. i’m eating these for the coating—not the bland biscuit part.”

“what’re you, five?” he snickers, earning a glare from you. defiantly, you pop the end of the pocky stick into your mouth just to prove a point—and then the look of distaste makes him cackle louder. 

“shut up,” you hiss, “you talk too much.”

“the ladies love it when i do,” he bats his lashes—you stare at him blankly, unimpressed.

“yeah, as if.”

“hey, my ex-girlfriend totally did,” he defends.

ex-girlfriend? that’s a bit of a shocker—you didn’t know satoru dated anyone in the last few years, you haven’t seen or heard anything of it through suguru’s end. in all realness, you didn’t even think satoru was the boyfriend type…but then again, he’s not really the anything type. he just kind of exists to take up space and be the bane of your existence. 

“i hope the poor girl is recovering well after dating you,” you shake your head, feigning a concerned look on your face that makes him roll his eyes—they’re still disturbingly bright even in the dark kitchen, dimly lit by the slightest bit of moonlight pouring in through the small window.

“i dated her freshman and sophomore year,” he says casually. you also didn’t expect that—that it lasted that long. something about satoru doesn’t strike you as the long-term relationship kind of guy. something about him doesn’t seem like the relationship kind of guy at all. not because he’s the type to mess around casually, but because he seems the type to seem disinterested all around—he’s snobby like that. “she was…alright, i guess.”

yeah. very snobby.

“you are such a sick bastard,” you spit.

he snorts, taking a bite of his pocky as he shakes his head in amusement. you’re as feisty as ever—it’s always fun riling you up, even if unintentionally.

“hey, it’s not like she was bad. she was just…well, she wasn’t interested in me like that either,” he shrugs, “i think it was just the sex. it was good, can’t lie there.”

“you’re so gross,” you roll your eyes, “have some decorum.”

“what, you’re still sixteen?” he raises a brow, lips curling into a smirk as he reaches for another pocky, “can’t say the word s-e-x?”

“i don’t broadcast my sexual activities out in the open,” you shrug.

satoru chuckles, taking a bite that more or less finishes the entire stick in one go before he presses a finger to his lips, “shh. don’t say that too loud—suguru will come chase you from his room if he hears.”

“suguru,” you groan, “he’s such a pain to have around sometimes. y’know i dated this one guy last year. i think suguru might’ve paid him to dump me.”

“i know. he definitely thought about it,” satoru hums, “he used to go off about it all the time. he was right, though—that guy was a total prick.”

something about you is mildly shocked that satoru knows about your private life—sure, it’s not outrageous or even the slightest bit unlikely that suguru mentions you. satoru and suguru are best friends, and you happen to be suguru’s sister—of course, suguru is bound to mention you here and there. it’s just the fact that satoru even pays attention to anything to do with you that surprises you—although you suppose it would be a good way for him to find his next source to push your buttons.

“i’m not surprised you think he’s a prick,” you nod, “it takes one to know one, after all.”

“oh yeah?” he snorts, waving you off, “i do, in fact remember anniversaries, y’know.”

“okay,” you sigh, defeated—your ex-boyfriend is admittedly not at the top of the list of your brightest choices. not even up halfway on the list. in fact, he’s so low on the list of good choices you’ve made, that willingly choosing to interact with satoru feels like an exceptional decision in comparison. and that’s saying something. “he was pretty bad. but he was really hot. when a guy looks like that, his values are the least of my worries.”

it’s a joke—you’re sure he knows that. but satoru takes a long sip from his coke, silent for a moment. you don’t think you’ve ever seen him so serious, especially so suddenly.

“he can’t be that hot,” he mutters.

“oh he was really hot. probably the hottest guy i’ve ever talked to—” satoru bites his pocky a bit aggressively at that, “and he was so tall. maybe taller than you—how tall are you again? anyway, he was pretty enough to overlook his shortcomings.”

“he’s probably not taller than me,” he grumbles, frowning. you snort—men and their fragile little egos, you think in amusement.

“he was,” you tease, “he was so tall, i’d let him do whatever he wanted.”

“that’s a terrible way to look at it,” he scrunches his brows, “you shouldn’t let some guy walk all over you because he’s tall and his face is a bit easy on the eyes—”

“i know you’re not talking—”

“i’m serious,” he cuts you off. something about him reminds you of suguru for a moment—like he cares who you’re with because he has a reason to. as if you mean something to him, as if knowing someone who doesn’t deserve you has you in their palms is upsetting.

but then you shake the thought out of your head—satoru doesn’t care. he’s never had a reason to, and you don’t exactly plan to give him one, either.

“okay, dad,” you roll your eyes, “i learned my lesson. i have standards now.”

“good,” he nods—and then, as if to keep himself in character, he adds, “because i don’t want to help suguru kill someone, and it’s over something lame like forgetting his little sister’s anniversary. i’d like to go to jail for something more badass.”

“you and badass don’t belong in the same sentence,” you raise a brow. “let’s be realistic.”

“oh yeah? that’s rich coming from—”

“guys, it is five in the morning,” suguru grumbles, throwing a water bottle at satoru’s head. you glance at the kitchen entrance, eyeing a half-asleep and very irritable suguru as he crosses his arms, “can’t you idiots fight over who’s more of a loser at reasonable hours? some of us like to sleep.”

“want one?” you offer your pack of pocky, holding it out to him.

suguru blinks, contemplating for a second before sighing and trudging over.

“yeah,” he mutters, flicking your forehead. “gimme that.”

you watch woefully as suguru takes the entirety of your pack, swiftly sitting next to satoru and leaving you empty-handed. satoru snickers obnoxiously at the deflated look on your face—and then he holds out his pack to you.

you look between him and the pack for a moment before giving him a genuine smile. it’s a rare sight—he drinks it in as you carefully take one and bicker over something with suguru.

you’re pretty when you smile, he thinks—pretty enough that if you had horrible values (which you don’t), he might feel inclined to understand your (awful) reasoning for a moment.

and then he blinks and shakes the thoughts out of his head—it’s going to be a long break.

—————

satoru meets you when you’re six. 

he’s nine at the time, and he feels on top of the world knowing he’s three whole years older than you—in hindsight, three years is not a very large gap, but to nine-year-old him, it feels like centuries. he’s remembered you as the fun little drama queen that’s too easy to poke fun at for years—that’s all you’ve always been: suguru’s younger sister who puffs her cheeks out and scowls way too often to be normal, the girl that’s way too easy to tease than should be standard. 

somehow, he wasn’t expecting for you to come back so grown…and so hot. suddenly, it really hits him that you’re not a kid—have not really been for a long time now. he’s always treated you like you’re way younger than he is, way too little to be in his presence and be worthy of it—but you’ve really become a fine young woman.

a magnetizing one, in fact.

it’s now his third night at your house—your parents are as lovely and welcoming as ever, and suguru is always a good time to be around. but somehow, satoru is not satisfied. not anywhere near sated by the few, minimal moments of contact with you. 

when did you get so pretty? although, as much as satoru has always liked to poke fun at you, you’ve never been ugly. not even a little—but you’ve grown into your features better, outgrown the awkward teenage era of your life, and now present yourself with a newfound confidence that just looks…so good. satoru doesn’t see his best friend's kid sister anymore—no, there’s something so alluring about you now.

the nail on the coffin that solidifies he’s officially screwed is when you mention your ex-boyfriend—why would your dating life make him this irrationally angry? why is the thought of someone being on the receiving end of your praise (and shameless heart-eyes) so aggravating for him? 

he doesn’t know—but what he does know is that the raging boner has been killing him all morning ever since he woke up from…well, less than proper dreams about you.

so now he’s here, forehead pressed against your shower wall as the hot water hits his back, swollen cock in his fist as he thumbs at the tip, teasing the slit just the way he likes. he thinks about you—how he’d show you what makes him feel good, how you’d probably learn fast and take care of him just the way he needs. 

your hand would look so much daintier compared to his—smaller, but he’s sure it would still feel infinitely better. 

he bites his lip, fighting back a moan as he strokes himself slowly, pre cum smeared along the length of his hard, aching cock—red and angry at the tip, leaking with more pre cum no matter how many times his thumb collects every drop. 

“f-fuck—” he breathes, and his voice lets out a shaky, breathy little call of your name—he’s screwed if anyone hears it. he’s sure you and suguru will both band together to kill him, but thankfully, the words are lost in the sound of the shower running. “fuck baby,” he says hoarsely, voice cracking ever so slightly as he whines. 

it’s soft and quiet, the noises he makes—careful and deliberately hushed to make sure no one hears the improper way he’s thinking of you right now. but fuck, your tits are so pretty when you walk out of your room in a t-shirt in the mornings—he can just tell you’re not wearing a bra. he can’t stop thinking about it, can’t stop trying to picture what they’d look like uncovered and bouncing.

“jus’ like that, baby,” he pants, whimpering softly as he squeezes around his tip, teasing himself with that slow, painful pace of his. 

satoru is sure that if it were you, that if the hand stroking his cock right now was yours, you would never let him cum so easily—you’d drag it out just like this, pump him slowly and twist your hand around him in a pace that’s painfully not enough before ever thinking about letting him come undone. 

it’s just the way that you are—never ready to back down from a challenge, unwilling to go down without a fight. but he loves it, he thinks—lives for the way you keep him on his toes and work for the satisfaction. 

“more,” he gasps, “n-need more—gimme more, sweetheart.”

he imagines it—the way you’d kiss his jaw, maybe even the corner of his mouth, as you hum. say please, toru, you’d probably say—and fuck, he’d kill to hear you say toru. 

“please,” he rasps, “please, baby. d-don’t tease.”

he can practically hear your light giggles, the sweet, okay, baby. no more teasing, that you might whisper. he’d also kill to hear you call him baby—he’s almost nauseous at the idea that some other guy must’ve heard the pet name from your lips before him. and then he lets himself pump his erection faster, squeezing tighter as his thighs quiver while he stands in the shower. 

fuck—you feel so good. you’re not even here, but he’s sure you do, and he’s desperate to envision it. it practically hurts—the way he’s so hard and swollen and ready to release. just for you, he wants to tell you, he’s going to cum all for you. 

“baby,” he whimpers, “‘m so, so close—fuck ‘m gonna cum. ‘s for you—gonna cum for you—ngh, sh-shit.”

and then there’s cum on the tile walls, on his hands, on his abs as they flex with every labored breath. satoru cums—hard. his eyes are squeezed shut, lips parted with a silent cry as he pants and strokes himself through his high. you’d kiss him, he likes to think, on his jaw and cheeks and maybe the tip of his nose as you sit on his lap and work him through his orgasm. you’d watch him closely, take in the way he comes undone for you, maybe even call him your pretty boy as he paints your hand white with his seed.

would you praise him? murmur softly into his ear and seal the gentle words with a kiss to his skin? would you stroke his hair from his face as you admire his blissful, fucked out little expression? maybe he’d ask you then—maybe he’d ask you to admit he’s way more handsome than that douchebag you dated as your hand holds his softening cock, sticky with his release.

god, what he wouldn’t do to see your hands coated with his cum—did you do this for your ex? did he look as hot as you claim he was when he came for you? the thought makes him sour—he grits his teeth and clenches his jaw at the idea, panting and catching his breath as he stares down at the mess he’s made.

he should feel bad—this is wrong. so, so wrong—suguru would kill him if he was aware satoru was lusting over his little sister. but it felt so fucking good—he’s never cum as hard as when he’s pictured cumming for you. 

it can’t be that wrong, if that’s the case—can it?

——

“suguru,” your voice is shrill, deadly—like you’re out for blood. “next time you jack off in the shower, maybe clean the fucking wall? are you joking?”

“wha—i definitely cleaned that,” suguru defends. 

oh, fuck, satoru thinks—he forgot to clean that. so he makes himself very scarce and stays within the confinements of suguru’s bedroom—his messy habits are starting to really catch up to him. if his defense, he really would clean that up…it’s just that he was a bit distracted. 

“so you admit you jack off in our shower? our shower?” you sound inconsolable, downright devastated, and borderline hysterical. having siblings seems like a lot of trouble, he thinks—but then again, sometimes satoru is jealous of your bond with suguru. it’d be nice to have someone in his family he can actually depend on. “keep that shit for your bedroom, you jackass!”

“well, how am i supposed to do that when satoru is there? you tell me.”

“i don’t know! figure it the fuck out—you guys probably jack off together anyway.”

“what?” suguru sounds appalled, “we do not—that’s outrageous.”

“whatever,” you say—you sound almost murderous as you warn, “next time you better clean up your fucking mess, you asshole.”

satoru can’t help but smile a little—your pointer finger is definitely held up as you scold suguru—you’re so cute when you’re mad, he thinks. he almost wants to step out and catch a glimpse, but he decides against it for now.

silently, satoru thanks his best friend for taking one for the team—even if it was unknowingly.

—————

it’s night four. 

satoru has surprisingly kept to himself—he even promptly looked away after meeting your eyes in the kitchen yesterday morning as you walked in for breakfast. that’s…new. a lot about satoru is new. 

he’s taller and more muscular now—at one point, suguru used to tower over his scrawny little form. now he’s seemed to grow into his body, seemed to learn how to style himself better, and actually do his hair a bit. it’s still messy now that he’s just lazing around in your home—but it’s oddly handsome. 

scarily handsome, in fact. 

you don’t enjoy the idea of thinking about the jerk of your childhood like that—but ever since you felt the hard press of his chest against your back, sometimes you wonder what it’s like to know satoru outside of just your older brother’s obnoxious friend. 

maybe, somewhere along the line, had you put your pride aside and actually tried to get to know him, maybe you both could at least be friendly. but then again, there’s never been any real animosity between you two—you can share a lighthearted talk from time to time, like that night in the kitchen. 

you decide not to dwell on it too much, decide that he’s not really worth your thoughts when he’s just a guy who’s always been a bit too spoiled to learn how to be humble. instead, you go down to the kitchen to grab another pack of strawberry pocky—satoru will just have to deal with it. if he doesn’t want his snacks eaten, he shouldn’t keep them in the pantry where anyone could stumble across them.

you walk into the kitchen until—oh. it’s satoru. again.

“oh, hey,” he grins cheekily, taking a sip of his coke—he needs to break the habit of having so much sugar this late at night…but then again, why would it matter to you? “stalkin’ me?”

“for an unwelcomed guest, you sure do talk a lot,” you roll your eyes, making his lips curl into a smug little smirk. 

“i don’t know—your parents seem to love having me over. what if i become their newest son?”

“i doubt my parents are looking to adopt you,” you raise a brow, slightly amused. 

he hums, sipping his coke before blinking at you through those long, perfect lashes of his. “well, there are other ways to blend into a family. marriage, for example, is a great way.”

“you and my brother might as well marry each other,” you snort, “no one else will do it.”

“who said anything about suguru?” he winks, chuckling when your face twists into an exaggerated look of horror—always as dramatic as ever, you are. he can’t help but find an endearing side to it now.

satoru stands, walks over to where you are and stands in front of you as you scoff, shaking your head as you huff out a disbelieving chuckle. 

“that’s pushing it,” you muse, “marrying you would be the last open option i’d have left—and even then i doubt i’d ever take it.”

“yeah?” he raises a brow, leaning in so close, you can practically feel his breath fan over you. he smells like expensive cologne and your shampoo—why is he using yours instead of suguru’s? before you can even ask him what he’s doing, he throws away the empty can of coke in the trash can behind you, eyes bright with amusement as your breath hitches.

it’s like he knows—the fucking asshole.

“yeah,” you breathe, “you don’t deserve me,” you try to say matter-of-factly. it comes off a bit more breathless than you intended—the air feels suffocating. maybe because satoru is so close, maybe because his breath is on your face, maybe because all you can smell and feel and hear is him. 

you can’t find it in yourself to pull away—why aren’t you pulling away? it’s just like that day he caught you, when his arms wrapped around you and all you felt like doing was lean into his chest. what about satoru and you has shifted so quickly to make you want to do that? what makes him so easy to fall into when all you’ve always known was to shove at him?

he hums, leaning in closer and closer until his forehead touches yours. “you know who didn’t deserve you?” he asks, “that shitty ex of yours.”

you look up at him with wide eyes, speechless as his hands find purchase of your hips, grabbing them and pulling you closer—and against better judgment, your hands lay themselves across his chest. it’s as firm as you remember it. 

“how would you know—”

“heard suguru rant about it all the time,” he murmurs, “how he forgot your dates. got you a shitty birthday present. didn’t show up to your anniversary. made you hang out with his friends and didn’t even meet half of yours. you’re tellin’ me he deserves you more than me?”

“he was hot—”

“yeah? and i’m not?”

he’s cocky—you hate that about him. always did. but he’s so close, so intoxicating, so irresistible, and fuck, he is hot—so incredibly hot, you’ve been losing sleep over it the last four nights no matter how hard you try to deny it. 

“satoru, what are you—”

“y’know, i’ve been helping suguru pick your birthday presents since you were twelve. i’d pick you the best gifts,” his nose is brushing against yours now, lips just millimeters away from his as he speaks—“and i never forget an important date. i’m very punctual too, believe it or not. i’d meet your little friends—show ‘em what a catch i am when you introduce me.”

“and what am i supposed to do with this information?” you ask defiantly.

it’s a last-ditch effort—you both know this. you know exactly what he wants you to do with this information. 

“i don’t know, sweetheart,” he chuckles, “what do you think?”

and then you’re kissing him—because fuck, satoru is right there, and how could you not? his chest is under your palms, his lips are right against yours, and you can feel his thumb rub circles into your hips. 

so you kiss him—loop your arms around his neck and tug him closer and press your lips to his. he groans, responds almost instantly as his mouth molds against yours, kissing you deeper as his hand moves to cup your cheek.

your lips are softer than he thought, and his hair is silky against your fingers. you tug at the strands, grab a handful, and feel them against your fingers like you’ve wanted to for so long. and when he nips at your bottom lip, who are you to deny him? your lips part, letting his tongue slide in and taste you with a breathy sigh that makes your knees wobble. 

“s-satoru,” you stutter, whispering between kisses, “suguru might come in like last time—”

“god,” he groans, head burying into your neck, pressing hot, open-mouthed kisses against the skin, “don’t fucking talk about your brother right now. please.”

“my room,” you say urgently—it’s all he needs to hear before his hands are on your ass, grabbing you as you wrap your legs around his hips. it’s urgent, the way his mouth is back on yours—he doesn’t pull away even once the entire walk to your room, not even when he lets your back fall onto the mattress as he hovers over you, pressing kisses along your collarbone. 

no bra, he notes happily, his hand sneaking under your shirt to toy with your pert nipples. 

“god, you’ve been driving me fuckin’ crazy,” he mumbles, tugging the hem of your shirt over your arms and tossing it over his shoulder. he stares, takes in the sight of the same tits he’s been fantasizing over for the last few days in awe. “you know that? been thinkin’ about these for days,” he says lowly, cupping your tit and massaging as he presses a kiss to your jaw. 

“you’re shameless,” you mutter, snorting before you cut yourself off with a gasp as he squeezes your nipple, pinching and rolling it between his fingers and pulling a soft whine from you.

“shhh,” he chuckles, tilting his head toward the wall next to you, “don’t want suguru to hear, do you? that wouldn’t be nice, would it?”

“it’ll be worse for you than me,” you grin, tugging at the hem of his own shirt, indicating you want it off. he grins widely, wiggling his brows and making you purse your lips.

“wanna see me shirtless again, huh? third times the charm, as they say,” he winks. you would retort with something as witty, but then your eyes fall on that tattoo again—right under his collarbone, making your hand reach out to trace it with your thumb. 

“what compelled you to get this corny little tattoo of yours,” you grin, giggling as you trace over the small infinity sign. 

for the first time, you think you witness satoru shy, blushing as he rubs the back of his neck and chuckles awkwardly. “that…that was an accident. when i got drunk for the first time.”

“oh,” you snort, “you’re so weak, satoru—”

“do me a favor, sweetheart,” he hums, cutting you off, “as much as i love when you say my name, say toru for me, yeah? i wanna hear it.”

you roll your eyes, huffing as your hand finds the back of his head and pulls him into another kiss, moaning into his mouth as he grinds the throbbing erection in his sweats over your heated core. 

“toru,” you say breathlessly, “more.”

that’s all he needs to hear—satoru doesn’t waste a second before he’s crawling between your legs, sliding your cute little pajama pants down your legs before meeting your dripping pussy.

it’s wet—so wet, he almost wants to chuckle and tease you a bit. just for old-time's sake. but the ache that shoots down to his cock reminds him that he’s in no position to tease you when he’s not faring any better himself. so he spreads your legs, kisses lightly at your clit in a feather-like touch that has you whimpering and clutching the sheets in anticipation.

“how pretty,” he mumbles, “been hiding this pretty little thing all this time. what a perfect pussy.”

“satoru,” you gasp in embarrassment, hands reaching for his hair and tugging him closer to where you need him most—equal parts because you really need his mouth on your cunt and equal parts because you really need him to shut up. 

but he chuckles, takes his time to spread your folds open with his thumbs, and watches in wonder as you flutter around nothing, arousal dripping and leaving a mess. it’s perfect—you’re perfect, and he wants to take his time with you. 

“god, you’re soaked,” he groans, chuckling as he murmurs, “that’s fuckin’ cute.”

before you can even whine at the way his words are shameless, his mouth is back to kissing your clit, lips wrapping around it as he sucks and rolls his tongue along the sensitive bud. his fingers sink deep into you, pushing past your folds and slowly bullying into you until the tips of his fingers curl and brush against a spot that makes you squeal. 

you gasp a breathy, “fuck, toru—” before he hums around your clit, vibrations making you whimper as he thrusts his fingers back in to hit that spot again. it’s sensitive, the way he makes you feel—your nerves are on fire, and your head is light, and fuck, it feels so good you can’t help but sob brokenly and squeeze your thighs around his head. he moans against your cunt, pulling his fingers out before letting his tongue lick a stripe along your slit, tasting you with a sharp inhale. 

“f-feels good,” you whimper, biting your lip as your eyes crinkle at the corners from squeezing shut.

“yeah?” he hums, kissing your inner thigh, leaving a wet little sheen of his spit and your arousal on the skin, “that’s a good girl—just keep telling me how good i make you feel, kay?”

he could stay buried nose-deep into your pussy for as long as you let him—tongue alternating between fucking into you and rolling over your swollen clit, hearing the broken little gasps and whines of his name as you repeat toru over and over again like a prayer. his hand grips at your thigh, sinking his fingertips into the plush skin and rubbing soothingly with his thumb as you rut your hips and grind against his face. 

satoru has half a mind to watch it again—to lick and suck at your core again and again just so he could burn into his mind what you look like when you cum. it’s divine—like he’s halfway to stepping into heaven and has to pause just to admire the sight before him. 

your hips leave the mattress as your back arches, and your fingers tug relentlessly at his roots as your walls quiver, letting satoru taste every drop of your release as you press a palm to your hand and try to keep yourself from squealing at the pleasure.

suguru is right next door. you can’t wake him—can’t let him know this is what you and his best friend get up to in the late hours of the night. 

it’s not until satoru pulls away, catching his breath as he wipes the wet trail on his chin does he realize how hard he is—how badly he’s aching as his cock strains against his sweats. he hisses as he frees himself; ridding his sweats and boxers and wrapping a large hand around the tip of his erection and smearing the leaking pre cum along his length. 

you watch in awe, reaching over and replacing his hand with yours. satoru was right—your hand is infinitely smaller than his, and yet, it feels a great deal better. so much better, in fact, that his arms shake as he hovers over you, burying his head into your neck and groaning as you slowly stroke him, squeezing at the tip and rolling your thumb through the slit.

he didn’t even have to show you what he wanted, what makes him feel good, what makes his mind fog with pleasure and burn through every nerve. no, you figure it all out on your own, pulling strangled moans and hushed gasps from him that make your clit ache once more. 

“fuck, baby,” he pants, “can’t last long like this—c’mon, g-gotta feel you.” gently, he pries your hand from his thick, pulsing cock, laying it against your stomach as he peers down in fascination. “i’ll be right here,” he hums, drawing a line on your skin right where his tip ends, “see that? that’s where you’ll feel me, sweetheart.”

“then let me feel you,” you murmur, cupping his cheeks and brushing a thumb over the skin, “fuck me, toru—wan’ it so bad.”

so he does—drags his tip along your folds and collects the slick pooling at your entrance before pushing his tip past your folds, splitting you in half as he slowly buries himself to the hilt. his jaw is clenched, breath labored as he waits for you to adjust, lets you kiss his cheeks and nose as you murmur how handsome he is, how perfect he feels, how good is to you. 

“that asshole ever make you cum?” he asks lowly, “he ever eat your pussy like that? make you cum hard enough you had to cover your mouth so you’re not screaming his name?”

“no,” you breathe, quivering as his thumb rolls over your clit in slow circles, still painfully still as he stares down at you, “n-no, never. just you—only you—”

“good,” he grins, “that’s what i like to hear. and when i make you cum on my cock, make sure to tell me he’s never done that either, yeah?”

“you’re full of it,” you scoff, “always have been.”

“and you’re full of me,” he says cheekily, chuckling as you glare half-heartedly. “can i move, baby? please? need more, ‘s not enough. n-need more—”

“yeah,” you whimper, pulling him closer, chests brushing against each other as your lips meet in a sloppy kiss, “yeah—need more too, toru.”

satoru, in all his years of knowing you, has never seen the side of you that could be this gentle. the side that glides your hands over his back, feeling every flex and every pull of his muscles, gently caressing the skin like it’s holy, like it’s not worthy of marks—instead to be worshipped and revered with thoughtful touches. your lips sear into every part of him they can find—his lips, his forehead, his nose, his hair as his face digs into your neck. even your voice is a gentle whisper of his name, so soft and careful, it’s like saying it wrong could break him. 

your hips buck up in tandem with his, meeting his rhythm as he slams into you, his balls slapping against your skin as he buries his cock into you as deep as it’ll go with every harsh thrust. you can feel his tip kissing against that sweet spot in the back of your walls, your abused cunt sucking him in and hugging around him as he groans. 

the friction feels sickening, like he’ll pass out any second, like he’s floating between the precipice of pleasure and the edge of consciousness. 

you do that to him—he doesn’t know how or when or why, but you make him feel like he doesn’t have a grip on his own senses. he doesn’t mind it so much, he thinks—doesn’t hate the idea of letting himself fall into your palm and wrap around him. it feels nicer that way, like it’s where he belongs.

“fuck, ‘s so tight,” he rasps, whining into your neck as your hand cups the back of his head, holding him in place. his hips are rutting into you sloppily now, barely maintaining the rhythm from before as he nears his high—but that doesn't stop him from angling into you perfectly, slamming into your sensitive spot every time without fail. “c-cum—’m gonna cum. cum with me, sweetheart.”

“‘m so close, toru,” you sob—and then, just as his thumb finds your clit again, rubbing harsh, desperate little circles to get you over the edge, you cum again—harder than the last time, spasming around his cock and pulling him in as you squeeze around him. “t-toru,” you gasp brokenly, “fuck, ‘s good—so good.”

“baby,” he moans lowly, “fuck, you’re so perfect. prettiest thing ever—prettiest pussy ever. i, sh-shit—” your orgasm quickly has him falling into his own, hot, thick ropes of cum spilling into you with every twitch of his cock, sweet little noises pulled from his throat that he sings into your neck, fucking his load into you. 

it’s messy, the way cum spills out of you and coats his cock—but it’s perfect and feels so, so right. you can’t help but think how perfectly satoru fits against you as his body slumps on top of yours, panting and spent as he cages you in his arms.

your hand doesn’t leave his hair—now that you know how it feels, you don’t think you can stop threading your fingers through it, ever. 

“wow, toothless,” he chuckles after a bit, “you’re seriously obsessed with me, huh? i mean, how long have you been nursing this crush on me, hmm? thinking about your brother’s best friend, you naughty little thing—”

“satoru, would you shut that mouth for once,” you hiss, rolling your eyes—still, there’s an affectionate grin on your lips this time as he chuckles into your skin. 

“oh baby, i’m afraid this mouth never shuts, so you should get used—”

suddenly, you both freeze as you hear suguru’s voice through the door. “you two better not be fucking doing what i think you’re doing,” he growls, making your jaw drop and satoru’s eyes widen.

fuck—that was never supposed to happen. suguru was never supposed to hear, let alone know.

“hey,” satoru starts, “if suguru kicks me out of our place, i can come be your new permanent housemate, right?”

do not comment about a part 2

yeah he can come live with me any time and as long as he pays by sucking my tiddies i shall provide all food and utilities and everything

⟣insufferable husband – kuroo tetsurō [nsfw]

synopsis: your husband invests in other activities as you pack his lunch for work

notes: repost from old account. working on newer kuroo things in the meantime

warnings: established relationship, female reader, creampie, oral sex (female receiving), pet names, fingering

"there you are."

you shift your head in the direction of the voice to see your sleepy husband standing in the opening to the kitchen. he rubs his eyes tiredly, a frown on his face as he looks at you inquisitively.

"good morning, grumps." you smile before looking back to what you're doing.

kuroo mumbles, shuffling over to you, "what are you doing up so early?"

"i'm making your lunch for work today," you answer, feeling his body warmth from behind you, "i forgot to do it last night, sorry."

"'is okay," he says, resting his chin on the top of your head, wrapping his arms around your waist.

it's normal for kuroo to cling to you while you do things. even normal for him to pet at you and get a little touchy. but today, this particular morning, he seems...different. more needy than usual.

his fingers rub circles into your hipbone before he moves his hands up your sides. knowing him, it's only a matter of time before he would try something.

you feel him press some of his weight into you, and you take that as a sign of him being drowsy.

"hey, if you're still tired go back to bed. okay? i'll make sure i wake you up when it's time." you pat his arm, and he only grunts, moving to hide his face in your side.

"m'not tired." he says, breath tickling your skin. the hairs on the back of your neck stand up.

"okay..." you sigh, shivering when his large hands move under the large t-shirt you wear. his t-shirt. the cold metal of his wedding band forces a hiss from your mouth and you click your tongue.

"tetsu, you're cold."

he smiles into your neck, his mischievous nature practically emitting off of him. "sorry...but, i know a way to warm us up."

"that's...not what i meant."

he laughs, a free hand grabbing at your boob. "yeah, well, i did."

you sigh, rolling your eyes. "you're insufferable and an idiot."

"you married this insufferable idiot, sweetheart." he hums, hand wandering down to your shorts. his hands finger at the waistband before hooking in them, pulling them down.

"i guess you're right about that." you say. he pulls off your panties and you step of them and kick them away.

he hums, "glad you agree. let's see if 'she' does too."

"you're so corny." you giggle, a small moan escaping when his thick fingers tease your opening.

"and you're so wet. just like i'd knew you'd be."

you go to retort, but stop when he pushes two fingers into you. a gasp leaves your mouth and you put your hand up to your face to suppress a moan.

kuroo makes a sound of disapproval, removing your hand from your face. "wanna hear you.”

and it isn't long before another moan slips out of you, louder than you initially wanted it to be. he's pushed in a third finger, making you feel almost as full as his cock.

"you're always so tight, it's a miracle i can ever fit in you." he mutters, pumping his fingers leisurely. you whine, trying to move your hips against his hand, but the steel grip of his free hand on your side prevents you.

you try your best to focus on your task at hand, but with the way your husband is moving his fingers vigorously against you is almost too distracting.

the feeling is shallow and slow, you can feel the knot in your stomach wanting to break, but he purposely is depriving you of it.

"tetsu, stop teasing me..." you pout, looking back at him with a small frown.

"m'sorry, i couldn't help it." he chuckles before he moves his thumb over your nub, circling it generously.

a sharp whine leaves you and your back instinctively presses into his chest.

"i-i'm—" you gasp.

he hums, kissing your temple. "let go for me, baby."

you waste no time cumming, quivering and shaking in his hold. you have to stop what you're doing and grip onto his forearm for stability.

"good girl," he praises, watching in awe as you cream on his fingers, mesmerized by the throbbing of your clenching muscles. he can't wait to feel that around his cock.

he slowly pulls out his fingers, sucking on them with a groan.

you normally would reach back and pull him out, but due to the preoccupied nature of your hands making his food, you don't. you only hear the sound of clothing being removed and discarded away. the audible 'slap' of his shaft hitting his skin makes you shiver.

your breath hitches when you feel the heat of kuroo's thick cock before he rests it on your butt. he slowly strokes himself, groaning at the sensitivity.

"you don't mind if your 'insufferable' husband fills you up, do you?" kuroo asks, his voice low in your ear.

"i think you know the answer." you huff, parting your legs slightly.

the tension in the atmosphere is so thick, a knife could cut it. but it slowly dissolves away with your husband entering you. and as much as you try to remain composed at him pushing himself inside of you, it's impossible when handling his thickness and length.

a small whimper escapes you and he leans over to kiss you on the lips, mumbling soft words of encouragement as he slowly presses himself into you.

the stretch is always so worth it when he finally fills you up all the way. instinctively you clench around him, pleasant euphoria washing over you at being full.

"shit," kuroo hisses, pressing his pelvis completely flush to you. he closes his eyes, sighing at the welcoming nature of your warmth and gently rubs the fat of your ass.

the two of you stay like that for a moment, kuroo pressing kisses over the bare skin of your neck.

he squeezes your hip, "is it okay for me to move, baby?"

you nod frantically, losing your voice. "please."

and when he does, it's not fast, and hard. it's slow and deep enough that your toes are left curling. his now bruising grip on your hips makes up for the lack of roughnesses present.

the only sounds present aren't ones of any innocence. the slight squelch coming from how wet you are makes the both of you more aroused. small whines and whimpers escape you paired with the sound of his balls slapping against your skin.

kuroo, usually the charmer with words, is silent. the only sounds are his heavy breathing and quiet moaning.

"more tets, more," you plea, and you feel him shake his head.

"don't...don't want this to end so soon," he groans, "if i move any faster i'll cum. wanna feel you longer," he explains, tone ending in a whine.

his words nearly make your eyes tear up and you understand, relishing in the way his cock carves itself repeatedly into you. the knot in your stomach there, but not quite present.

"always feel so good, sweetheart," he's moving a bit faster now, his movements rocking you against the counter a bit. "love being inside of you."

your heart flutters at this statement, humming, "always feels so good being filled up by you, 'ro..."

his heart swells at the praise and he grips you harder, his lips sneaking to nibble and bite at the column of your neck

"just a little more, i promise." he assures, kissing your shoulder. his thrusts switch to being slow and shallow and the feeling of your impending orgasm is slipping from your hands.

"kuroo," you warn.

he rolls his eyes, clicking his tongue, "don't call me that. you have the same last name, kuroo."

"tetsu," you try, "baby, please. i want to cum..."

he nearly stalls at the pet name, eyes wide, "don't..don't say that without warning me..."

"what? my sweet tetsu, my handsome man..." you coo, reaching back to run a hand through his hair, tugging on the roots.

"i'm gonna cum," he groans, head bowing back for a moment, "if you don't stop..."

you squeeze his hand, batting your eyes innocently, "inside?"

"f-fuck, wherever you want me to. whatever you want." he's twitching uncontrollably by this point, just about ready to burst.

you smile back at him, pouting a little, "then can my husband cum for me? for his wife?"

at the feeling of your hand pulling on his hair again, he cums instantly, warmth spilling inside of you quickly as he fills you up.

you squeeze your cunt, milking every bit that he gives you greedily, as you don't want to miss a drop.

kuroo slowly pulls out of you, groaning when part of his cum leaks down your thighs. that's a sight he'll never get tired of.

by that point you were done fixing his lunch and you lean against the counter to hold up your jello legs.

"god woman, were you trying to kill me just then?" he huffs catching his breath.

you grin, "no, not today."

he looks at you dumbfounded but laughs, grabbing your face to kiss you. you giggle and he slips his tongue in your mouth, hand holding your jaw as he greedily tastes you.

when you both pull away for air, you speak, "you—"

"yeah yeah, i'll clean you up." he mumbles before you can complain.

but what you aren't expecting is for your husband to kneel right there in the kitchen and use his mouth to do so.

you gasp, knuckles gripping the counter and jaw going slack as you try to look back at him. "t-tetsurō!"

he only hums, grinning lazily, "itadakimasu," hands firmly keeping you in place as he licks and sucks up every bit of you and his cum from between your legs.

you cry at the way his nose bumps against your clit and shamelessly grind back on his face. he moans at this, feeling his cock twitch back to life but pays it no mind, only touching himself occasionally.

"i know you got another in you, pretty girl," he says, before promptly reaching around your front and toying with your clit.

you lean forward on the counter for support, bracing yourself with your elbows as your legs start to give with how good he's making you feel.

it should not surprise you at this point that kuroo is able to bring you to an orgasm so quickly even when you just had one. as your husband, your lover, your eternally bounded soulmate, he knows your body inside and out.

he's sucking and licking at your cunt like a starving man. slurping and gulping all together and making a mess between your legs. the grip he has on your ass cheeks is brutal with how spread they are.

it hits you before you can even think, and you wail, feeling your orgasm wash over your harder than the other times.

"fuck, that's it. cum for me like a good girl." he praises as you do. he pulls away slowly, kissing your hip and stands back up.

he wipes his mouth, smirking at you, "don't think i'll need to eat breakfast after that."

"g-get out of here before you're really late to work." you stammer, cheeks hot with embarrassment as you try not to look down.

"as you wish, princess. love you," kuroo laughs at how cute and shy you've become, swooping down to plant a quick kiss on your mouth so you can taste you both. he takes both of your clothes off the ground before proceeding to your shared bedroom to start his day.

you can't help but slap him on the butt, making an uncharacteristic yelp leave him.

"love you too!"

a dazed smile sits on your face. it's mornings like these that remind you just how grateful you are to have a man like him in your life.

☆༉ — RYOMEN SUKUNA. santa’s little helper.

about. dressing up as slutty santa warrants some unwanted attention, luckily, sukuna is there to play santa’s grumpy little helper. merry christmas.

warnings. minors, blank and ageless blogs do not interact! sfw, fluff, meet cute, reader gets harassed/cat-called, reader is wearing a dress, modern!sukuna, fem!reader. it’s still christmas somewhere - enjoy !! (1K).

you meet modern bf!sukuna at a train station on christmas eve.

all your friends have gone home with guys that they fancied from the club, all the ubers in the area are either booked out or have sky high prices just to get you thirty minutes away not to mention the fact that it’s ice cold and your stupid mean girls themed santa outfit keeps riding up.

if you huff hard enough a cloud of smoke appears in place of your breath — like that of a mighty dragon, accumulating in the night air. it entertains you for all but a moment and doesn’t waste enough time for your train to come faster.

it’s not due for another thirteen minutes.

in that time you watch gangs of girls, groups of guys and just about anybody come and go from the station. your platform isn’t packed but it’s not too empty to the point where you feel unsafe.

“hey pretty girl.” ugh. as if your night couldn’t get any worse, a dingy looking stranger appears from nowhere — breathing down your neck, nastily drinking you in as if you’re a free shot at a bar. like you’re easy.

waving your hand away, you focus your gaze on the platform across the track and pray that someone notices your predicament. “no thank you.”

“oh come on gorgeous, give a guy a chance!” they press, crossing all of your boundaries to be in your space. even as you try to walk away, you can still feel the ghost of their sleazy words against the bare and exposed parts of your skin.. “where are you going all dressed like that, with no one to admire you?”

on instinct, you pull down your skirts as if to hide yourself from greedy eyes — storming down the platform. “none of your business!”

“hey now, little miss santa! don’t you wanna know? i’ve got a sleigh you can ride!”

“not interested! i’m all good.”

“why? you got a boyfriend?”

“yeah, i do.” you lie smoothly.

“then where is he?” the stranger mocks and closes in on you — you look around pathetically, waiting for some good passer-by to come and help you.

a heavy hand land’s on the stranger’s shoulder — making them jump in shock. you watch as the hand squeezes down, almost tight enough to break bone. “right here,” says a gravelly, husky voice that instantly fills you with warmth and relief. stepping aside, your hero reveals himself — tall with rippling muscles and spiralling black tattoos, lazy blood red eyes and a snarl that reveals sharp fangs and canines. all topped off my tufts of soft pink hair, which don’t do anything to dim his threatening aura. “you got a problem?”

“n-no! sorry man, i didn’t—“

“fuck off, will ya?” your hero spits out venomously and the stranger nods — practically disappearing into thin air after that. your shoulders sag and tensions dissipate from your body. “you okay…miss?”

tentatively, you give the pink-haired man your name — you owe him that much after he’d more or less saved your skin. “all good, thanks to you…”

“sukuna.” he doesn’t look at you, instead pulling a pack of cigarettes from his back pocket and lighting one with a flicker of a flame. it’s like he feels you watching him in dismay, and laughs as he takes a drag. it’s kind of sexy, you’ll admit — the way he throws his head back let’s you see the thick lines of black ink extending down his neck. “ticket office is closed and security is shit here. small station. no one’s watching me smoke.”

“right…thanks, sukuna.”

he finally turns to you, deep and blood red eyes drinking you in — almost scrutinising you. you squirm under his gaze, heat prickling at the back of your neck and providing some protection from the cold. “where were you off too?”

“christmas party with some friends.”

“where are they now?”

“sucking face somewhere, and no, they didn’t offer me an Uber before they left.”

sukuna taps the ash from his cigarette and it falls away in the icy breeze. “shit night.”

wringing your fingers, you shrug a little bit. “i guess it could have been worse. so thank you for helping out,” you hum appreciatively. “all i have to do now is wait for this stupid train.”

a beat of silence passes between you both, only broken by your chattering teeth and sukuna’s occasional sniff between puffs of smoke. you hate smokers, but you don’t ask him to stop. not after he’d helped you and is willing to be your human shield until your train comes. anyone else would have left by now.

“i can give you a ride home, if you want?”

you frown… was he, trying to make a move on you?

“if you have a car why are you at a train station.”

sukuna smirks slowly, dropping his cig to the floor and crushing it under his sneaker. you don’t remind him that there’s a law against smoking on the platform. “i’m waiting for my little brother to get home from a trip with his friends. we don’t live too far from here and i offered to pick him up from the station.” he shrugs.

you blink up at him with wide eyes. you’d never imagine a man that looks and carries himself like he does to care so deeply for someone else. you suppose you’re judging a book by his cover.

you’re dressed like slutty santa, so you honestly have no right to do so.

“what’s your brother’s name?”

“yuuji. it’s just us, no parents. that’s why i’m picking him up.” sukuna turns to you, running a hand through his messy pink undercut. “look, i promise i’m not some creep. y’just look cold and i’m not about to let some girl get fucked over by weirdos at this time of night. i won’t touch you, but you can sit in the back with yuuji if it makes you feel better. people usually prefer his stupid face over mine anyways.” he mumbles that last part to himself, but is pleasantly surprised by the cute flutter of laughter that escapes you. “what’s s’funny?”

with a hand resting on your bare stomach, you try to contain yourself. “is it the tattoos or the fact that you have resting bitch face?”

“both.” sukuna sniggers in response, shoving his cold hands deep into his pockets. “so, you takin’ up the offer or what?”

“yeah, thank you…sukuna,” you smile, subtly sliding up beside him for warmth on the chilly platform. “i’d like to meet yuuji for myself, see which brother i prefer.”

“oh fuck you.”

“maybe some other time.”

and even though he’s sure that you’re joking, sukuna detects a glint of honestly in your sparkling eyes as the train finally approaches — it’s yellowing light from inside the carriage only illuminating that spark. you turn your head, trying to spot yuuji while he ponders your words.

sukuna is definitely going to ask for your number after he drops you home. he’ll have to thank that brat of a baby brother yuuji for the opportunity next — without him begging for sukuna to come get him, this would have never happened.

you would have never met.

it’d be a great christmas story to tell the grandkids too. so he’d really have to thank yuuji, even though sukuna would never hear the end of it.

꒰ end. — all rights reserved © tteokdoroki 2023. do not copy, repost, translate & recommend elsewhere.

NSFW. Ango x Oda x GN!reader.

Content: Reader has a pussy but no gendered pronouns used. Threesome. You and Odasaku team up to give Ango a birthday to remember. Set in an alternate Dark Era where everything is cool and sexy and there's no tragedy whatsoever and you could all get married and grow old together if you want to because nothing bad will ever happen. Very submissive Ango. Alcohol consumption, smoking (not specified who), lots of kissing, handjob (Ango receiving,) oral (Ango receiving,) anal (Ango receiving,) vaginal penetration, reader on top, nipple play (Ango receiving,) Approx 3.5k words.

Happy Birthday, Ango

Your orders from the Port Mafia's youngest executive were clear: “Take this card to Bar Lupin in Chuo City and deliver it to a man named Ango Sakaguchi. It's his birthday, but I'm afraid I have an assignment to carry out and won't be able to celebrate with him. Please send my apologies. And after that, you can call it a night.”

A simple job for a low level PM grunt such as yourself. Still, your hands shook on the stair rail as you walked down into the bar. This was, after all, an assignment given to you directly from Osamu Dazai, and you knew far better than to piss the kid off. His reputation not only preceded him, but kept his enemies awake at night.

There were two customers in the cozy, windowless bar, along with the bartender and a calico cat whose eyes seemed to follow your every movement with a vague and alarmingly human sense of amusement. The two men perched on stools at the counter barely registered your arrival, save for a polite nod from the one you recognized; Sakunosuke Oda, a grunt just like you but even lower in the hierarchy. He’d always seemed like a decent man.

That meant the other man was likely your target. 

“Mr. Sakaguchi?” you asked the bespectacled one, approaching the bar and sitting on the vacant stool between the pair. 

Sakunosuke and Ango made brief eye contact, a silent exchange passing between them, a mild concern followed by an assuring nod of the grunt’s head. He knew you were Port Mafia, there was no need to be suspicious of you. 

“Yes?” Ango replied, looking down his nose at you.  

“I was asked to deliver this to you. From Mr. Dazai. And he sends his apologies but he won't be able to come tonight.”

Ango pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose before opening the envelope. “Ah, it's a birthday card.” He read the card with a blank expression. “Dear Ango, have a drink on me. But there's no money inside.”

Cold fear turned your blood to ice. “I-I didn't take it, I swear.”

“I know you didn't,” Ango said with flat sincerity as he tucked the card into his satchel. 

“There was never any to begin with. That’s just Dazai,” Oda confirmed, sipping his whisky. 

“You sure?”

“Absolutely certain,” Ango said. “You can relax.”

And relax you did. 

Dazai had told you you could call it a night once the card was delivered, after all, and far be it from you to disobey a suggestion from an executive. It took very little convincing for you to stay perched at the bar, working your way through a bottle of 12 year-old Yamazaki with Ango and Sakunosuke— who after the second glass insisted on you referring to him as Odasaku. 

Stiff conversation turned to an easy flow after a half hour, and a boisterous stream by the end of the evening. 

Before you knew it, the bottle was dry and the three of you were pleasantly buzzed, squeezing into the back of a cab, you and Odasaku giggling mischievously as you penned Ango in the middle seat. 

“This is absurd,” Ango muttered, struggling to find a comfortable spot for his elbows. “Odasaku, get in the front seat so we can breathe.”

“Psh, we’re all friends. Besides, it’s your birthday.” Odasaku sighed, linking his arm with Ango’s so they could sit more comfortably. 

“What does that have to do with–?”

“Hey,” you interjected, linking your arm with Ango’s on the other side. “Where are we going?”

“Ango’s place,” Odasaku said, putting his head back on the headrest and closing his eyes. “He has a bottle of 18 year-old Yamazaki.”

“You are not touching my 18,” Ango said bluntly before leaning forward to give the cab driver his address. 

Your eyes briefly met Odasaku’s across the seats, their blue impossible to see in the darkness of the cab, yet you remembered it vividly. You could almost picture the playful light glinting in them as he gestured toward Ango with a tilt of his head, his intention clear: let’s get him. 

You grinned in silent response: let’s do it.

The moment Ango had finished giving his instructions to the driver, You and Odasaku yanked him back into the space between you, rewarded for your synchronized effort by a haughty harrumph from the smaller man. 

Ango glared at you both across the top of his glasses, which had slipped halfway down his nose. He tried to raise his hand to push them up, but both his arms were pinned. A long-suffering sigh marked the end of his attempt as he resigned himself to his fate.“You two will be the death of me.” 

“Nonsense, birthday boy,” Odasaku chuckled, reaching out to assist him. “You’re back between us, right where you belong.”

“Don’t put fingerprints on my glasses!”

“Well, hold still and I won’t.”

“You are! Oh look at them, Odasaku, you’ve made such a mess,” Ango groused. “It’s like looking through fog.”

The city lights passed by the cab’s windows as your new friends bickered playfully beside you. It was a short ride to Ango’s apartment, made even faster by the ease with which they welcomed you into their fold, with you quickly falling into the role of Ango’s co-tormentor. Not that any of it was malicious; quite the contrary. It was all affectionate and he knew it. 

By the time the three of you were seated around the chabudai in his apartment, Ango’s once stiff demeanor had melted away completely, leaving him altogether more relaxed and somewhat rosy cheeked at your playful jabs. The record player in the corner played easy bebop jazz on softly crackling vinyl, the warm light of the room casting your trio in a comforting golden glow.

“You’re terrible,” Ango sighed with a subtle smile, shaking his head as Odasaku expertly jimmied open the liquor cabinet and took out the 18. “Utterly utterly terrible. Robbing a man on his birthday.”

“We’ll repay you,” Odasaku said, sitting cross-legged at the low table and pouring three generous measures. 

The bespectacled man’s face paled as he watched his precious whisky fill the glasses. “And how exactly do you plan to do that? That whisky is worth a fortune. It was a gift from the boss, you know.”

“Hm…” Odasaku shrugged as he screwed the cap back onto the half-emptied bottle. “Well, there are always birthday kisses.”

“Kisses? From you?”

“I’ll kiss you too,” you said, taking a sip of the whisky. “Both of us, right, Odasaku? That should cover it.”

The redhead nodded sagely. “Both of us.”

“Pft,” Ango's brow puckered as he skeptically watched the two of you, waiting for one of you to crack, for the sudden tension in the room to break when one of you laughed. But it wouldn't happen. You were both dead serious. And his ears began to turn red. “Wait… you aren’t joking, are you?”

“Not even a little. C’mere.” Oda made the first move, cupping Ango's pretty face between his broad hands, gazing down at him with a subtle smile before leaning in to kiss him. 

And even though he knew it was coming, Ango let out a startled cry, muffled against his friend's lips, his stiff poise melting after just a moment, before his hands came to cover Oda’s. You drew closer, waiting your turn, watching as the two of them made out, exploring uncharted territory together. Slow and tentative at first, then deeper, hungrier, sighing longingly into each other’s mouths. Oda’s stubble against Ango’s smooth skin, the PM grunt’s hand reaching out toward you and urging you closer. 

When Oda drew back, Ango’s eyes were still closed, his lips remaining parted as though his brain was still catching up. 

“Your turn,” Oda said, moving to the side to make room for you. 

Ango was still dazed and catching his breath, his Adam's apple leaping above the buttoned collar of his shirt. 

“Do you want me to kiss you?” you asked. 

Ango nodded breathlessly in response. 

He really was very handsome, with his angular features, his come-to-bed eyes, and the little mole, elegantly placed just above his lip. And that was precisely where your first kiss landed. 

You felt his lip twitch at your touch, the subtle turn of his head; he'd expected you to kiss him on the mouth the way Oda had. Perhaps he felt a little silly. Perhaps he felt you were a little silly. Either way, his smile widened and he chuckled softly. 

“You missed,” he said. 

“No. I’ve wanted to kiss you here all night,” you told him, brushing your lips over the exact same spot again. His breath caught again, his upper lip twitching beneath yours before his smile returned, tipsy on whisky, affection, and the strange sort of magic the night held. “You’re stupidly pretty, Ango.”

He laughed again, shaking his head. “Pretty? You need to get your eyesight tested.”

“No, I’m right, right, Odasaku?”

“Right,” the redhead confirmed, sitting back and swirling the whisky around his glass.

“Oh, will you two stop,” Ango fussed, the color on his cheeks rising and making him even prettier. Even harder to resist. “I’m not–” 

You cut him off with another kiss, this one to his lips, letting his words die on your tongue. Smoke and whisky, shy and sweet. He moaned softly into your mouth, hands coming up to grip your arms, pulling you just a little closer, his tongue timidly caressing yours before his confidence blossomed and he kissed you like it could sustain him. Fuck, he was beautiful. He and Odasaku, they both were. 

When you pulled back to draw breath, Odasaku took over once more, kissing Ango with a renewed hunger, spurred by watching you both. And when Oda withdrew, you moved in, the pair of you once more working in tandem to unravel Ango until his breaths were shallow and shaking, and his cheeks, throat, and ears were all stained rosy pink. 

Oda kissed you after that, slow and deep, the kind of kiss that seeped into the marrow of you and would haunt your sleepless nights for years to come. Fingers cradling the back of your head, pulling you gently against his broad chest.  

“You two…” Ango whispered, adjusting his glasses as he watched the pair of you. “Dammit, if you knew what you’re doing to me.”

Oda glanced at you, a wry smile slanting his lips. “I think we have a pretty good idea. The question is, do we stop at kisses?” He paused, letting the question hang in the air between your trio. “I’m more than happy to see this through all the way, but if you want it to end here, we’ll let it go. No hard feelings at all.”

If working for the PM had taught you anything, it was that life was fleeting and tomorrow never guaranteed. Why the hell not indulge while you could? Ango and Oda were both beautiful; Ango with his classic, timeless elegance and handsome features, Oda with his altogether more rugged beauty, his gentle blue eyes, the subtle dusting of freckles on his cheeks. “I'm in. All the way.”

Oda gave a single nod of agreement, his softening expression hinting that perhaps he too had been a little nervous of rejection anyway. “Ango?”

Without a word, Ango took off his spectacles, setting them carefully on the table before picking up his whisky glass and taking a sip. For a moment you suspected he was going to say no, that he was working up the courage to assert that kisses were enough for tonight and you should go your separate ways. But then he set down his glass, loosened his tie, and rocked forward onto his knees, closing the space between you on all fours and ghosting his lips over yours.

Not quite as shy as you had assumed. 

While he kissed your lips, cupping your face between his hands, Oda moved in too, bestowing deep, languid kisses to the groove of muscle running the length of Ango’s slender neck. Ango moaned softly, the sound vibrating through your body and causing heat to pool in the pit of your belly. 

As with everything, it seemed you and Oda had once more reached a silent agreement that this night was for Ango, and the two of you would do all that you could to make it good for him. And Ango didn’t seem to mind at all being the recipient of both of your attentions. He broke away from your lips to watch Oda’s sturdy hands slip the little pearly buttons of his shirt out of their holes, his breaths trembling as he pressed his brow to yours.

“Shit,” Ango whispered. “Is this happening?” 

“It’s happening,” Oda replied, pulling off Ango’s button-up, exposing the man’s lithe torso to his and your lips, your tongues, and teeth. 

And Ango was so very sensitive, jolting, breath fracturing at every kiss, his body undulating into the sensation as you licked a slow stripe up the length of his torso, beginning below his navel and ending at the valley of his throat. Oda lapped at his nipples, his hand disappearing beneath the waistband of Ango’s slacks and drawing out a breathy cry of surprise and pleasure. 

“Feel good huh, birthday boy?” Oda crooned against Ango’s chest. 

Ango’s hand surrounded yours, guiding it down to the bulge tenting his trousers, releasing a fragmented breath at the sensation of two hands touching him. “S-so good. Use me. Please God.”

It wasn’t long before you were unbuckling his belt, sliding your hand inside to find him obscenely wet, leaking onto Oda’s rough hands. 

“My, and here I thought you’d be the quiet one,” you said, teasing his weeping slit with the pad of your thumb as Oda stroked the base of his cock. 

He was throbbing, twitching, pre-cum beginning to soak through the fabric of his trousers, leaving a wet patch which had Odasaku smirking as he flicked his tongue back and forth over the puckered bud of Ango’s nipple. 

“So wet,” you whispered against his ear. “So pretty.”

A moment later Ango lifted his hips, frantically wriggling from his slacks so he could watch you both touch him. The head of his cock was engorged, glistening, a deep shade of reddish-pink. The sight of it proved too much almost instantly. “I… ohhh. I might– c—”

Oda chuckled. “We’d better slow down, huh? ‘S getting too much?”

The other man nodded, dragging shallow steadying breaths through his teeth. “I don’t want it to end yet. Just give me a moment.” 

“Poor Ango,” you cooed, kissing his temple and threading your fingers through his tousled hair which his morning gel had long ago surrendered hold of. He was a wreck already, and oh so very beautiful. Lying, kissed half to delirium by his lovers, so gorgeously decadent as he lay blushing on the living room floor. 

He huffed indignantly through his nose, yet unsubtly leaned into your touch. “It’s not as easy as it looks, being the center of attention.”

“No?” Oda asked with a subtle smile, pressing his lips to Ango’s shoulder. “Well we’ve got all night. We don’t have to do a thing before you’re ready.”

It really didn’t take long. Ango was more resilient than he looked. 

“I… I’m ready,” he declared a little while later, lowering himself to take the last few inches of Oda’s cock with such a wanton moan it made your core clench.

He sat with his back to Oda’s chest, your hands keeping his slender legs spread wide while you knelt between them, dragging your tongue along his twitching dick, tracing the bulging veins running from base to crown. 

“Oh god…” he moaned, the twin sensations immediately too much. Yet he couldn’t stop himself from rocking back and forth, toes curling against the carpet, hands braced on your shoulders. “I don’t think… hah… I’ll last…”

“Stop thinking, Ango,” Oda said, wrapping his arm around his friend’s waist, teasing his kiss-swollen nipple with the pad of his middle finger. “Just feel.”

Ango’s cock twitched against your tongue, his fingertips grasping for purchase along your back. He was balanced on the precipice of release, yet desperately wanted to prolong the sensation, to delay his climax as long as possible. The poor thing was doing his best to get a rhythm going, but time after time the stimulation became too much for him and he had to pause, gasping and overwhelmed from pleasure and exertion.

“Need a break?” Oda offered, peppering Ango's back with gentle kisses and pressing a hand against his lower belly. “You can just lie back and get fucked…”

Ango could only nod, sweat beading down his temples and on his upper lip. “Uh-huh.”

“Good.” Those pretty blue eyes met yours. “What do you think? You want to ride him?”

A needy whine slipped from Ango's downturned mouth, his eyes screwing tight and cock leaping in response. He definitely liked the sound of it. 

With a smile you pressed forward, your lips trailing up his belly, feeling him tense and quiver, “You want to fuck my pussy, Ango?”

“Yes,” he nodded again, as if to emphasize the sincerity of his answer. The calm, measured man you'd first met at the bar was no more as he leaned back, silently inviting more of your kisses. “Yes. Yes please. Please. I want– I need–”

Odasaku placed his hands either side of Ango's waist holding him down as you climbed on top. The redhead ground out a low, breathless “fuck” as your weight pressed Ango even further back onto his cock.

You wrapped your hand around the base of Ango's dick, teasing yourself with his bulbous tip by sliding it between your pussy lips and circling your clit. Ango whined desperately, his eyes squeezed tight, his thighs trembling beneath you.

“Heh,” Oda panted, pressing his head back against the back of the couch. “He's squeezing me so tight. Fuck… milking my cock. He wants your pussy so bad, isn't that right, Ango?”

“Oh God…” Ango was done in completely, his head back against Oda's shoulder, one hand draped across his brow, the other gripping your arm as though some part of him feared you'd stop if he didn't hold on to you. 

“Here, sweet thing,” you said, taking his hand and leading it down to your clit, guiding his fingers so he stroked you just how you liked it. “Make me cum.”

The look of desperation in Ango's eyes took on new urgency as you lowered yourself onto his cock, his cry of pleasure immediately fading against your lips. Nimble fingers devoutly stroked your clit, chasing your pleasure as much as his own. 

He wasn't going to last much longer. And neither were you. 

“Fuck yes,” Oda gasped beneath the two of you his lips against Ango's ear, “oh fuck, fuck, mmmh… ‘m close. So fucking close. You’re gonna make me cum, Ango.”

Ango's brow pinched as his jaw fell slack, his eager tongue swiping at your lips as you approached your own high. Sweat and panting breaths, his cock pulsing inside your throbbing cunt. The air hot and heavy, between the three of you, filled with the heady scent of sex and gasped pleas. 

“Oh god, oh god I… I'm dying…” Ango whimpered, drawing out Odasaku's blissed-out smile, teeth pressed to his lower lip. 

Your climax rolled through you, your pussy clenching around Ango's cock as Oda filled him from behind with a bitten back growl. Ango followed a fraction of a second later, cumming with such a feral cry it was as if his soul was being torn from his body. 

“Fuck me, oh fuck me,” Ango ground out, tears of relief clumping his pretty lashes. “Thank you, thank you.”

The world began and ended with the heat of your bodies pressed together. Labored breaths slowing, remnants of pleasure binding the three of you, fading throbs a blissful swansong. 

“Happy birthday, Ango,” Odasaku said, breaking the silence. 

Ango could barely lift his head, his soft breaths warm against the crook of your neck as he muttered something vaguely along the lines of “thanks” 

Later, you stood on the balcony with Ango wrapped in blankets yet still shivering from the cold, and Odasaku, cooling off with the last of the whisky. Wind whipped cigarette smoke into the frigid night air, the lights of the city casting your trio in a calm blue glow.

“Almost wish I'd grabbed your camera, Ango,” Oda sighed, stubbing his cigarette on the railing, “I could have taken a few souvenir shots for you to remember this by.”

“As if I'll ever forget,” Ango chuckled, pulling his blanket tight around his body and leaning his head on your shoulder. The man was exhausted but unmistakably content. “Besides, it's your birthday in five days time, isn't it, Odasaku?”

 “It is. Perhaps the three of us should have another party?” The redhead's lips twitched subtly, his nails rasping through the stubble on his chin as he turned to you. “What do you think? You in?”

Author's note: Hi! I just want to say thank you to all the people who have read and interacted with my Ango Week fics. This was such a passion project and there were times I was sitting on my couch writing these stories and thinking "am I the only one who is actually going to care about this?" so it means a lot to know others enjoy it too.

And also, happy birthday, Ango, ILYSM.

Tags: @osamucide @dorotheasdiary @candiedfright @hisokamywaifu @hideandgopeep @da-h0manb3an @shytastemakerthing @nem0philistx @thewickedjazzy @chuuminn @guys-im-scared

𝐥𝐞𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐦 𝐞𝐚𝐭 𝐜𝐚𝐤𝐞!!

pairings: dice’s dream 6-some x fem!reader (atsumu x iwaizumi x fem!reader x matsukawa x ushijima x tendou); no m! x m! interactions, only m! x f! interactions; afab!reader, she/her pronouns

synopsis: tendou brings the boys back together to celebrate your birthday. you thought you had seen the extent of satori’s playful antics, but this one takes the cake— literally. a sequel to three holes, two hands.

warnings: EXPLICIT CONTENT. 18+ MINORS DNI. 6-some/gangbang (but everything is consensual); mentions of food (a cake in specific, but no actual eating occurs); some bondage with rope (atsumu’s part); consensual nude photo taking; cum (lots and lots of cum!); thigh fucking; titty fucking; face/throat fucking; unprotected sex; pull-out method; creampie; cum swallowing; mild impact play (a few ass and tit slaps); overstimulation; mild degradation; lots of praise; please lmk if there’s anything that i missed! (there’s a lot going on in this fic!)

word count: 7.1k words

notes: a postponed installation for my birth month event! you can read this as a stand-alone but i recommend checking out the prequel to this, which is linked above. happy birthday to the sweetest boy ever and the love of my life, satori tendou <3 reblogs are super appreciated!

All you really wanted for your birthday was a custom box of chocolates from your husband’s shop, a bouquet of baby pink roses from the local florist, and a back massage that maybe leads to something more.

But after opening your front door and hearing the scuffling coming from further inside your house, you know that your husband has more plans for your birthday— a lot more, judging by the amount of shoes neatly lined against your wall that belong to unknown owners.

“Shh! I think I just heard the front door open! She’s home; everyone be quiet!”

Satori’s hushed whispers echo off the walls of the foyer of your shared home. After taking off your shoes and placing them on the rack, you follow the sound of your husband’s voice through the hallway, turn the corner to enter your dining room, and find a sight that you hadn’t seen in six months.

Keep reading

jjk roommates and your vibrator part 1.5 (it's just nanami)

note: here we are with roommate!nanami finding your vibrator! this became too long and i honestly don't know when i will be able to post again, so this is a standalone fic for nanami! you can read part 1 with gojo and geto here :)

characters: nanami

warnings: heavy smut, mdni, brat tamer nanami, oral (female receiving), edging, fingering, drunk sex, riding, cockwarming, slight degradation, unprotected sex

navigation

⁜ nanami had left for a business trip for a week, so you have become very messy in his absence

⁜ your stuff was all over the place, you would be walking around in your underwear etc

⁜ one saturday, you got bored, opened a bottle of wine and was enjoying yourself

⁜ then, you started to get hot

⁜ discarding your clothing to find relief awoken something in you. was it the alcohol or how much you missed your oblivious roommate?

⁜ oh nanami... such a fine gentleman. so respectful, so pretty

⁜ you were the only person to see his messy, blonde hair. the only person to see him in his long sleeved shirts and pajama pants that fall just enough to expose a little piece of his hip. that must mean something

⁜ except it doesn't. sometimes you wish nanami wasn't such a gentleman and would just walk into your room and ram into you until you couldn't even tell him to stop

⁜ when nanami enters the house, he expects the apartment to be completely dark with you sleeping peacefully in your room. except, he was greeted with a buzzing too familiar to him

⁜ nanami contemplates, he knows what he's gonna walk into but isn't sure if he wants to see it

⁜ yet, he still enters the living room

⁜ there you are. legs splayed out, one foot resting on the coffee table and the other planted on the ground. your eyes are shut tightly, cheeks gotten red from the heat. your shorts and panties were on the ground along with your shirt. you are unaware that your roommate came home earlier from his trip and was frozen in front of you, watching you pleasure yourself with that dumb machine of yours

⁜ nanami calls your name shyly and you get scared

⁜ "n-nanami!" you try to say something but the words won't come out

⁜ nanami throws his coat to the chair next to him and walks closer to you slowly. he notices the half empty glass of wine on the table and huffs. a small smirk forms on his face

⁜ nanami grabs the glass with his large hands, making the glass seem incredibly small

⁜ "you must have been bored in my absence." nanami exclaims while taking a sip from the liquor

⁜ "this whole house is a mess. do you need someone to tell you what to do?" he exhales to the now empty glass. you feel intimidated by his words. is he actually mad?

⁜ you close yourself in front of him as much as you can. you bring your knees together and fix the straps of your bra and connect your hands around your knees

⁜ nanami laughs. "don't be scared, i don't bite. why, do you not know me enough?" you glance away

⁜ "those toys never work, you know." he sits on the coffee table in front of you and grabs the vibrator you had thrown on the couch. he gets too close to you for a moment which made you hold your breath. his face was so close to your chest yet he seemed uninterested

⁜ he examines the toy thoroughly. you feel ashamed, you just want to run into your room and lock yourself in until he has to leave again

⁜ "can i see?" he asks you. you give him a confused look

⁜ he leans forward and gently puts his hands in between your locked knees in an attempt to separate them

⁜ "i just want to see it"

⁜ you let him run his hands in between your legs and slowly part your legs. he pushes one of your legs to the side completely

⁜ he kneels in front of you end observes your exposed pussy closer. you curiously observe his movements from up above

⁜ nanami runs his long fingers along your thigh, slowly making his way to your clit

⁜ he gently grazes your folds until he reaches your hole

⁜ "huh. this stupid toy really doesn't work." he laughs to himself

⁜ "what?" you ask him, finally building the courage to speak to him

⁜ "the vibrator" he says while meeting his beautiful golden eyes with yours. "it looked almost unused."

⁜ nanami takes two of his fingers and gently strokes your entrance. you get chills by the move

⁜ nanami puts his fingers just enough for the tips of his fingers to enter you and he lets them out. he takes his fingers to his eyes, and he finds your slick running down his tips

⁜ "i must have made you this wet, then" you feel shocked at your shy roommates shameless comments. you make a move to close your legs again but nanami's strong hand stops them mid way

⁜ "no need to be shy, love. i know you've been wanting this too." nanami moves closer to you, his fingers leading the way. he takes those two fingers and reaches them out to you. he stops right in front of your mouth

⁜ "all the nights i spent with your shaky moans behind the walls..." since you are too stubborn to open your mouth, nanami helps you by parting your lips with his thumb. he forces his fingers through your lips. you just watch him in shock

⁜ "did you think about me while touching yourself?" you feel embarrassed by the knowledge of him having heard you touching yourself. god, you would love to slap that smirk off his face, but you know he's right. you even thought about knocking on his door to help you out

⁜ with nothing to lose, you welcome nanami's thick fingers in your mouth. you run your tongue across nanami's fingers and have a taste of yourself. you suck on his fingers while simultaneously toying around them with your tongue

⁜ "if i had known you missed me this much, i would have came earlier." he releases his fingers with a pop sound

⁜ nanami lowers himself again. he unbuttons his shirtsleeves and slides them up above his elbows. he grabs one of your knees and pushes it above his shoulder and plants his other hand on your thigh to push it further

⁜ "let me make up for my absence." he looks from below you

⁜ "n-nanami-"

⁜ "take off your bra" before you can even react, he licks along your folds with a flat tongue. you can't help but arch your back which gives nanami a better position to pleasure you

⁜ he grazes his tongue over your folds, but never your clit. his grip on your thigh hardens and you can see your skin turning red and his knuckles turning white. you do as he requests and unclasp your bra with a swift motion. your boobs, now plump and sore from wearing a bra the whole day, are greeted with the cold air of your shared house. nanami's pleased with the view as he smiles into your pussy

⁜ you throw your bra away and place your hands on nanami's soft hair. nanami places his nose on your clit and starts sucking on your wet folds. the room that was filled with dry buzzes before is now filled with sounds of nanami eating you out, followed by your quiet whimpers

⁜ nanami runs his tongue over your clit before gently tugging on it with his teeth, which earns him a soft "nanami" out of you

⁜ nanami connects his eyes with yours from below and starts sucking on your aching clit, almost as if he was trying to see your reaction

⁜ you look straight into his eyes. you part your lips and breathe heavily, asking for him to do more

⁜ and he does more. he bites just enough to give you shivers and just before you can react to the pain, he releases his mouth. you arch your back again as a reaction

⁜ before nanami goes into your pussy again, he releases his hand resting below your knee moves closer to you

⁜ he takes two of his fingers and enters them inside your wet hole and dives into your pussy once again

⁜ this time, he's not gentle. he fucks you with his thick fingers, he pushes them inside and pulls them outside rapidly all the while biting on your clit

⁜ the stimulation makes you shiver and whimper. your hands find their places on your breasts and you help nanami by squeezing your nipples tightly and releasing them until they hurt

⁜ "nanami!"

⁜ "what is it?" he releases himself for a second and waits for your answer

⁜ you're a panting mess. you honestly didn't think he would stop just like that, and you feel disappointed

⁜ "please... continue" you ask shyly

⁜ "will you cum then?" nanami pierces through your eyes. you see his cheeks getting pinker, must be from the wine you think. his hair is disheveled and a string of his hair falls in front of his eyes

⁜ "i... i will" you don't know if that's the right answer, yet you still answer

⁜ nanami lets out a loud tch and goes back into you. you jerk your hips closer to him

⁜ nanami grabs your thigh tightly and pushes you back down. "stay still"

⁜ this time, nanami pushes three fingers into you. without waiting for you to stretch out, he starts fucking you once again. your cries fill the cold room, and nanami can't hide his amusement

⁜ "mmm... 'm gonna cum-" you pant

⁜ with your words, nanami releases his fingers. he looks at you to observe, and is amused with the view of your angry face

⁜ "what the fuck?" you yell, clenching around nothing. you try, try to reach it again but it's no good

⁜ "language" nanami answers. "it appears that we have a lot of teaching to do"

⁜ "huh?"

⁜ "i said" he lands a slap on your tigh. "language. i will have to teach you some respect"

⁜ "ow!"

⁜ "if i were you, i would behave and be grateful" nanami takes position again. he places his lips above your pussy again and his hot breath excites you. "what a brat"

⁜ nanami keeps his fingers to himself this time and focuses on eating you out. the feeling isn't as head spinning, yet he still makes you feel divine

⁜ he runs his tongue all over your pussy and swirls it around your clit. he sucks, bites and licks again. once he starts hearing your whimpers again, he goes down into your hole

⁜ "would you like to cum in my mouth?" you nod. "do you think you taste good?"

⁜ "what if i don't?" you tease

⁜ nanami smiles and keeps his response to himself. he holds you down by your hips, you're ready for him. you tug on his hair and place one of your hands on his broad shoulder

⁜ nanami pushes his tongue inside your hole painfully slow. he savors your insides

he pushes himself in only a couple times before you start crying his name out again

⁜ "aaah, faster!" you tug on his hair harder

⁜ nanami obeys. he pushes himself harder and hums into your pussy. the vibration increases the stimulation, but more importantly, turns you on even further. his husky voice shakes at the sight of you. he tries to grunt, but his attempts fail as he shakily moan into you

⁜ your back arches closer to nanami as the knots in your body snap. you hold your breath and let nanami take full control over your body, as you shake onto his face and yell his name

⁜ nanami rewards himself with your sweet juices you empty inside his mouth. he makes sure to not miss a drop while also slowly licking you as you ride out your high. his grip on your thighs soften once you calm down and you slump on the couch

⁜ nanami gets up and takes one of his fingers to collect all the liquid left on his lips while not breaking any eye contact

⁜ he gathers all the juice with his thumb and licks it clean with a smirk on his face

⁜ "does it taste good?" you ask teasingly

⁜ "why don't you see for yourself?"

⁜ nanami plumps himself down on the couch and shifts the weight on his side

⁜ with a swift motion, he puts your limp body on his lap

⁜ he straddles you on his beige pants and you're afraid you'll stain them. they must have cost more than your life, though, nanami doesn't really seem to care

⁜ he places one hand behind your back and straightens it, he places the other on the back of your neck and pushes you closer to himself

⁜ before you can understand it, his tongue intertwines with yours

⁜ his kiss is divine. soft, wet lips glide over yours. you can taste your sweetness on his tongue as he rushes it over yours

⁜ his kiss is just like him, steady and organized. he follows an order with every move he makes

⁜ you decide to surprise him by wrecking his order

⁜ you quickly grab his lower lip between your teeth and bite on it

⁜ nanami opens his eyes in surprise

⁜ he's surprised that someone as timid as you would be so outright naughty

⁜ "what a vixen" nanami whispers in your mouth

⁜ he starts to loosen his belt while you're still saddled on him. his hand brushes over you a couple times before he fully unbelts himself

⁜ he lets his hands sit on your hips once again. you break the kiss and quickly start working to free him

⁜ nanami watches you with a soft smile on his face as you struggle to unbotton his pants, yet he doesn't help you

⁜ "fuck" you pant "please, i've been waiting for this for so long" you whisper to yourself in frustration and feel a sudden upsurge from under you

⁜ "huh?" nanami asks you

⁜ "nothing" you respond without looking at him

⁜ nanami grabs both of your wrists and looks at you. "you've been waiting for this?"

⁜ you gulp, bewitched by his gaze that is piercing through you. your cheeks turn redder from embarrassment and you see that nanami's cheeks are also more colorful than before

⁜ nanami unzips himself with his free hand with one switch motion and his erect dick slaps on his abdomen

⁜ "sit on it" he orders you. his face is stoic yet you can see the confusion in his eyes. he's trying to look intimidating, yet you only feel love from him

⁜ without thinking much about it, you shift yourself on his lap. nanami helps you by lifting you by your hips

⁜ you slowly take his length in. his thick tip is enough to stretch you, so you take your time to make yourself comfortable

⁜ nanami helps supporting you by holding you. he's impatient, he wants to feel your velvety walls around his dick, but he lets you be as comfortable as possible

⁜ you take him in with soft moans and pants. god, you're such a fucking sweetheart, so naive with your doe eyes. so different from the vixen teasing nanami just a second ago

⁜ "everything alright?" you nod. "then start moving"

⁜ nanami moves your hips forward and backwards, grinding you into his lap

⁜ "god, you feel so good" nanami nests his head on the crook of your neck and leaves his hot breath on your skin

⁜ his voice is deep and low, he's very vocal too. every right thing you do, he rewards you with his precious moans

⁜ "so big" is enough to feel him twitch inside you

⁜ nanami plants kisses on the soft skin of your neck before he softly sucks on it, leaving his mark all over it

⁜ "nanami-"

⁜ your hips fasten with every moan you gift him

⁜ "is it how you imagined it, hm?" he bites into your skin while his hand crawl up to your tits

⁜ "all the nights you fucked yourself" he squeezes your right tit with his thumb planted on your nipple tightly "did you think about riding me?"

⁜ "mmm-"

⁜ "did you play with your tits while thinking about me?"

⁜ "nanami..."

⁜ nanami lets out a frustrated growl and lands a slap on your tits. "answer me"

⁜ "ah! so mean!" you try to hold your moans back, because you know it will only push nanami further to punish you

⁜ "i would imagine you..." all the nights you spent by yourself flood your brain. you think about all the nights you touched yourself, trying to stay quiet but also hoping that nanami would just barge in and fuck you senseless. "imagine you... coming to my room... at night..."

⁜ "yeah?" nanami starts massaging your sore breasts while you arch your back to come closer to him

⁜ "you would... fuck me from behind..."

⁜ "nasty"

⁜ "...cum inside me... and leave me by myself again..."

⁜ nanami puts his hand on the back of your head and brings you in for a kiss. his tongue laps over yours and saliva spreads over your lips. the kiss is far from perfect, yet you're a moaning mess just by that

⁜ your hips fall tired but you try to stay collected. every brush of your hips send cold shivers down your spine and you can only imagine nanami feels the same too. you bet he enjoys feeling his tip hit your cervix with every small thrust of his, bet he loves the slapping sounds echoing in the room

⁜ "nanami" you call his name in his mouth. "cum inside" you try to collect your thoughts

⁜ "what's the magic word?" his lips stretch, he smiles in your mouth

⁜ "fuck... you"

⁜ "c'mon, be a good girl. what's the magic word?"

⁜ electrics in your body grow faster and faster. you give in

⁜ "please, cum inside of me, please-- fuck"

⁜ nanami sees how tired you look, so he takes over. he grabs your hips so tight that you're sure he's leaving bruises on you. he lifts you sightly and rams into you from under

⁜ he can feel your walls envelop his cock harder. he's not sure for how long he can also take it before fully giving in

⁜ "i will... gonna fill you up- fuck... you'll look so pretty... leaking with my cum"

⁜ "nanami!" you shout his name and dig your nails in his shoulders

⁜ "yeah? gonna fill you to the brim... fuck... you nasty slut... taking you from your back?"

⁜ "aah-- nanami... 'm gonna cum-"

⁜ "want me to use you... like the little vixen you are? i will... i will fuck you from behind" he grabs your cheeks and forces you to look into his golden eyes gleaming under the dim lightning of your shared living room. "look at me... i'll fuck you till' you can't walk anymore... alright?"

⁜ "yes... please..."

⁜ "good girl... you're a quick learner... cum for me now. cum around my cock"

⁜ your body spasms on top of your roommate and he doesn't stop moving. your knees feel weak and your body feels numb. you squeeze your eyes shut so tight that you start seeing white

⁜ "fuck... so good, so good for me"

⁜ just when you start breathing normally, you feel a warmness inside your walls. nanami's seed paints your soft walls, only then nanami stops moving. your limp hips fall on nanami's lap and you can barely move your legs. his cock twitches inside you. you quickly realize he has kept his promise when you see his beige pants turn slightly wetter from where you two are connected, he did fill you up to the brim

⁜ you watch his cum slowly glide out of your sore pussy and trail down to nanami's crotch until he can also come back to his senses

⁜ the room is now filled with an awkward silence. nanami's eyelids are low, his pupils dilated and eyes glued onto you

⁜ "toys can't do this" he starts rubbing small circles on your plush hips. you're glad that he broke the silence. now that you're also more comfortable, you start playing with nanami's hair. you run your fingers through his loose strands and rub the back of his head

⁜ "you were right" you take a breath, as if you were annoyed. "again" you exaggerate your tone to annoy him

⁜ nanami doesn't respond to your cheekiness

⁜ "glad i came home earlier" he smiles lovingly. he truly looks like he has achieved something he has been long yearning for

"you should leave your door open at nights"

this was long lol

comment and reblog to have a 6' blonde businessman come to your room at night and rawdog you i guess ( ˘︹˘ )

[arcane s2 act 3 ending]

you're laughing.

my boyfriend and my boyfriend's boyfriend are in the astral plane making out without me, and you're laughing.

a/n; jokes aside, i really wanna write a fic about it. it's probably gonna be stuck in the drafts though </3

todo sibling gc: merry crisis

feat: todoroki siblings, you are dating touya 🖤

warnings / cache notes: language, kys joke, touya being a brat, fem!reader, texts to fuyumi are touya’s pov!

req📌: more holiday todo fam content! creds to my bitches in switch city who gave me the idea <3

m.list

© accidentcache do not repost, translate or alter my work without permission. all rights reserved.

┌─ .✦ HIS FAVORITE TYPE OF SEX

Omgee I love this, I should write a little drabble for each of these (¬‿¬)

꒰ part two | jjk version ꒱

✦ ─ Atsumu Miya, ‘we shouldn’t be doin this’ sex. He loves the thrill of something forbidden, it gets the blood rushing from his brain to the head of his cock and he can’t help himself from fucking his brothers crush, a super fan in the locker room, his ex’s sister, his daughter’s best friend. Self control was never one of his strong suits.

✦ — Bokuto Koutarou, passionate, almost desperate sex. He’s the type to get completely lost in the moment, throwing himself into it with everything he has. He’s the type to fuck his new bride to the point of unconsciousness, primal sex scenes, birthday sex, so-into-it-he-rips-off-the-condom sex. He wants to consume you.

✦ — Oikawa Tooru, Make-up sex. He thrives on drama and intensity, so the emotional highs and lows fuel his desire. He’d want to prove himself every time. When a fan gets too touchy or he’s missed one too many dates, he loves making it up to his princess whether that be spoiling her or edging himself until she accepts his apology.

✦ — Miya Osamu, possessive sex. He’s laid-back, but when he wants something, he takes his time and makes sure you feel everything he doesn’t outwardly express. The kind that makes you forget everything else and willingly surrender to his every demand. Giving slow strokes in his office to the new every employee everyone is memorized by, indulgently eating out his pregnant wife in the slow hours of the morning, making you say his name over and over until it’s the only thing you can remember. He wants your body to forever be marked by him.

✦ — Iwaizumi Hajime, frustration-fueled sex. He bottles things up, and when it spills over, it’s intense and raw and primal. Letting you run from his thrust before roughly pulling you back onto him, throat fucking before he’s even taken his shoes off after a long day of work, pounding you into the wall after you smiled a bit too big at one of his trainees. He loves taking out his frustration on your body.

✦ — Suna Rintarou, lazy, teasing, “you’re mine” sex. He takes his time, drags it out, enjoys watching you squirm, and makes you work for it before finally giving in. Making you bounce on his cock until your legs give out and you’re sobbing, slow deep thrusts in his manger that make you whimper in the janitor closet, taking his time kissing all over your body before teasing you with his tip, pussy jobs are his favorite.

✶ nuclear seasons, [ soldier boy x reader ]

summary — he was friend’s with your mom. friend is a understatement cause when he appears in the middle of the night looking for revenge in your little apartment in the suburbs, you know he’s far from being nice.

warnings — +18 minors dni, smut, dead dove do not eat, we have a last name (also a mother!), kind of porn without plot? but not really cause it HAS one okay, we call it 50/50, fem!reader using she/her pronouns, p in v, masturbation ( m! receiving but blink and you miss it), dirty talk, age gap, choking, degradation, spitting (i'm sorry), fingering, mentions of injury, cancer (not you tho), tons of tension.

side notes — i’m never experiencing the post ovulation clarity lmao, that being said english is not my first language so sorry for any mistakes, also i’m a whore for jensen ackles, and i stand for what i like proudly. // 5k+

Nightshade is a hero.

You're proud of your mother since you were pretty young. The hero that fought against Vought to death during the time Payback was active, America’s Troublemaker that you only knew as Stella Nightshade, a blonde woman that talked with the death during her golden years.

Maybe it’s your mother the one that pushed you to fight crime, to pursue the bad guys and look out for the victims that can’t stand for themselves, so even when you don’t inherit much from Stella’s gifts, you joined the CIA as soon as you can so you can do something that matters.

You’re the best in your class, work your ass off to be taken serious, to be more than the look of disappointment you receive when people ask, once again, if you have any powers like your mother and you have to admit — In pure shame, that you didn’t born as a superhero but a baby who cried loudly when is too hungry.

But as years pass you make a name for yourself, one that even if differs from Stella’s job has the same noble reasons behind. You also realize you were too naive growing up, believing in heroes that don’t deserve to be called that way.

The country has made a mistake on making superhumans so openly, and it’s clear that got out of control now, backfiring as they got so much power it’s almost impossible to take accountant of any of them.

You’ve worked along Grace Mallory from the shadows, and even when Stella would not be so proud of you for helping get his kind out of the streets, the justice is enough to feed you and keep you warm on a cold night.

You like it that way. You know Grace has a team for it, a legal army of supe-haters as you called them, yet, you prefer to stay in the dark, not let your personal life get involved cause one slip and you can lose it all— Even when you don’t have nothing at all. You like to have an outside life from work, it’s the sane thing to have, so when the CIA Deputy Director asks you about joining the infamous Boys, you politely decline assuring the woman you’ve been more helpful from the outside.

What would Stella Nightshade would say? Now that you’ve grown older and you don’t look at her the same way you used to when you encounter her files and read about your mother. You know she has done wrong, yet with the years, you don't imagine Soldier Boy himself was going to seek for revenge first thing he does when he wakes up, his plan including your mother even when she was long time dead before he even appeared in the picture.

That night especially you let your guard down. It's been a rough couple of weeks back in work, so when the night comes you're a victim of the stress, victim of your bosses and the people that surrounded you. You pour a glass of wine for yourself, light a cigarette even when you haven't smoked in years, and turn on the TV to see something else rather than the face of Homelander in every single channel you've been tuning lately.

It's a weapon. When you leave for a warm shower and start filling the bathtub, you're not aware of what that night was really going to be for you. Oblivious as you stand naked in the middle of the bathroom, holding the glass of wine between your fingers before entering the warm current that relaxed your muscles.

It seems tension is your worst enemy, makes your muscles feel like stone as you got in the water, the cigarette that hangs from your dry lips splashing with tiny droplets of perfumed water as the silence filled the air. It's what you needed, at least ten minutes with your brain shutting off completely, the pleasure you haven't experienced in forever by being so compromised with work.

It's a much-needed break. The smoke that leaves the room by the almost-closed window, the taste of wine still lingering in your lips as you sip another taste of the crimson liquor you love. You don't happen to notice when he's breaking in your apartment, silent and deadly as you were protected by a door closed and a white curtain.

You don't happen to hear him too. The music coming our from your phone is loud enough to silence the knocks on your door at first before breaking the wood, you're too deep in the still water that smelled like roses and vanilla, to even pay attention to what was going on outside the warmth of the four walls that surrounded you.

There's vapor coming out of the water and you find comfort in closing your eyes, in letting the blow of the smoke travel through your throat before suspending itself in the air, flowing as you drank.

In your defense, you haven't been like that in ages.

It's been a long time since you last fill the tub and have a relaxing session with yourself, so it makes sense you are enjoying it a little bit too much, too much cause when the invader is making a lot of noise when stepping into your property, you still enjoy the taste of the alcohol on your lips.

The ashes fall to the ceramic floor outside the tub and you should blame the CIA to make you so tense to the point it leads you to more problems than you ever had. In the dark room of your apartment, it's Soldier Boy the one who's going through any drawer he comes across, the ones closed, the ones hidden, any slit he can find, any clue that can trace your mother back to his personal vendetta.

He's oblivious to Stella's death and her daughter, so when the former superhero hears the noise in the bathroom he's fully convinced it's your mother the one who's behind that door, that she's the one who's going to tell him the truth, if she also sold him to the russians as well in the process.

He's decided also on killing her. She must need it after all that time getting older, closer to death more than ever.

Of course it's an unpleasant surprise when you can see the bathroom door opening when you're sure you left the front door closed and lock with at least two bolts to prevent anyone from getting inside, it makes you jump in the spot, quickly covering yourself from the new stranger that enters your bathroom.

"Stella?" he asks, it's the last room that the hero needs to check for himself.

You spot the green fabric of his suit immediately as you pressed your chest against the cold surface of the tub, and when the invader notices you're naked, he doesn't look away as any person with a hint of respect would do, but instead, continue on checking you out as you try to cover yourself in the water tinted in a nonexistent transparent color red.

You can feel his gaze as soon as you recognize him too, as you happen to notice that face from your mother's pictures, the propaganda in the TV when he did almost every commercial back when you were a kid. It's a shock, and dressed in his damn suit, you don't know why an old superhero is there standing beneath the yellowish bulbs of the light your bathroom happens to have.

Your cheeks adopt this pink color as you panic, grabbing the cup of wine to throw the liquid in the floor, breaking it against the marble walls just to shatter the glass in pieces, a weapon of defense as you lifted up against him.

"You're not Stella."

Soldier Boy looks amused: it's funny that you think you'd be able to kill him with shattered glass, yet he lets you keep thinking that way when he's enjoying the view.

Is he to blame? He just got out from this giant cooking oven back with the communists and he hasn't got his way with a lady since what seems are centuries, so when he spots you in the tub he simply cannot contain himself from peaking around. You should be in what? Not more than your 20's? Soft-looking skin that asked to be marked with his hands, by the force of his lips crashing in your flesh.

The thought is compelling, you're looking all feisty with the glass in your hand, threatening him and speaking something Soldier Boy cannot catch at first — Shit, he doesn't even notice the blood in your hand that's dripping all over your small rug in the floor, the power women like yourself seemed to have now and weirdly enough, a huge turn on.

"Get the fuck out!" you scream in an authority voice, the same you use back at work when you're mad, when you're usually holding a gun in defense more than a piece of broken glass "Stella is not fucking here!"

It takes a few more words to actually get him out of there, and as he closes the door behind him you finally stand to grab a towel covering from the currents of wind, trying, really hard, to think about anything else more that the fact that Soldier Boy has entered your house and your bathroom in the worst moment, far from what you were last updated with.

To be honest, it almost gave you a heart attack, leaving the bathroom to find your home torn apart, the drawers open and all the papers you've meticulously kept in place being all over the place as Ben stands awkwardly holding a shield in the middle of your living room.

"Fucking hell" you're cursing under your breath as you gathered some important things you cannot leave on the floor even when you're still wet from the shower, expelling this nice aroma that mixed the roses and the vanilla together with your personal scent — Weirdly enough, a fucking show to the hero that's already rock-hard from the peak he had of you from before.

You don't really notice it at first, too busy being mad as you let the papers you gathered on top of the table. You lose the shame you got left as the wet drops of the shower leave a trace in the floor — And as usual, you clearly don't notice it, but Ben does when the water is running down your back, and you're barking something about calling someone called Grace, holding onto a white tower with your dear life.

"Where is Stella Nightshade, sweetheart?" he speaks out loud cause he don't understand anything you say, really fighting to be nice with you like it would give him an opportunity to get under your skin.

"My mother's dead," you stand there without knowing what to say after. You know he and your mother were close, but you don't imagine he was going to actually go find her teammate when he recently woke up in a different country. "She died years ago dude, i'm sorry."

The information gathers in his head as you take a clean oversized shirt from the laundry basket covering with it as you throw the towel to the floor, Red Hot Chili Peppers it says, but he thinks it's a place in Italy more than a band like he isn't troubled already by the fact you were Stella's daughter, the person who thought was her only friend back in the time now dead.

"Does anyone know you're here?" your mind is drifting back to work again as you wondered if anyone knew he was going to break into your apartment and choose not to send any help — "Ben."

You've read his file. Hell, to be honest you've read every single file in Payback, so it's no surprise you know his name, but to the hero, it seems to be amusing when you call him by his real name, his mind fueled in a different direction as he notices you're not wearing any underwear beneath the shirt you're choosing to wear, one whose fabric's barely covering your tights.

"What do you mean dead?" he asks, furrowing his brows "It's not been so long."

"She got cancer three years ago" you explain with a sad tone, even when you disagree with Stella, it pains you to remember what sickness made out of her, consuming her from the inside at a cruel pace.

"Motherfucker," he states clearly angry, and you cannot help but look at him with a weird face, searching for the phone you left in the sofa to call any-fucking-body in the office that could send a damn army to get you: Didn't the Boys have everything under control? That's what you're told anyway, then why the fuck is the subject of matter cursing in your little messy apartment? — "Bitch just got away with it before I could do anything, isn't it? What a fucking shame."

"Pardon me?" it catches you by surprise at first, but it hits you soon after. Soldier Boy is not there to say hello to your mother or ask for her help, but instead, he's there to get revenge and actually kill Stella by his own matters.

Fuck. Of course is something new, something that makes you feel cold all sudden, your wet hair making you visible shake as you became aware of his plans.

"You know them. You know the people from the lab" it's more of a fact than a question, letting the words feel salty in his own mouth. "The ones that let me get away."

He's quickly to gather the pieces too, not as dumb as you think he is as the puzzle is finally coming up together in his head, and it's all it takes for him to take a step closer to you, cutting that space you've created since you kicked him out of the bathroom — He's angry now.

The red globe on his hand is now holding you by the throat, applying enough pressure to cut the air flow going to your lungs almost completely, his fingertips warm against your bare skin as he holds you in front of his figure, pushing you against the cold wall.

You usually would enjoy such activities, yet in the context you are trapped in right now, you began to choke, your own hands trying to push his grip back even when he’s too strong, not even flinching when you’re squirming, gasping for some air as your face became red, tears gathering in your eyes as he let you breathe for a couple of seconds when he senses you’re too close to black out.

“Talk little Nightshade” he says in a low voice. “Or else i’m breaking your pretty neck.”

“I work for the CIA!” You explain quickly as your breathing became more labored by the seconds. “Not for the people who let you out! I promise!”

He’s going to kill you. You can see the determination in his eyes, that predator look he happens to have.

What you don’t know, somehow, is that he’s going fucking insane. Your smell coming up to his nose to make him shiver, the sight of you in an oversized shirt that barely covers your shape is more than enough to push his buttons, to make him forgot about any killing he was allegedly so concentrated in fulfill, the sight of you almost crying messing with his brain.

Little Nightshade is a fucking tease.

His eyes follow your expression, the hand that gripped your neck and choke you harshly now pressing enough to only suppress the air flow in a more enjoyable way, the tension quickly shifting from dying to pleasure all over again as he kept you in place so easily.

It’s impossible to move, to do anything more than be pressed against a cold wall. Your mother has once again lied to you and you notice the relationship she painted with Soldier Boy was more of a movie in her head than reality itself. Makes you gulp in response when you stare at his expression, the face of a trained killer as you knew, fucking knew, a bit more of force in your neck and it would snap without any difficulty.

“I don’t work with them” you assure once again, maybe it’s your survivor skills hitting when you repeat it in a low voice, catching on your breath when he lets go allowing you to fill your lungs with air just enough before pressing that very spot again, the one that actually turns you on. “Fuck’s sake.”

Is that how you end? On your lame apartment?

The next is a weird thing, cause in the blink of an eye he’s close to your face planting his own body next to yours and you’re shivering at the feeling, his armor pressed against your chest as he left the shield he was holding on the floor.

The metal is pressed against your skin covered by the thin cotton of Red Hot Chili Peppers shirt, and he is so close, so close you froze there, no longer fighting his tight grip but mesmerized by his damn face, the same you watched on TV when you were a kid, the handsome man you happen to severely crush on in secret, just because you don’t want Stella to know or she will give you a long talk about how he is her age.

But he is, handsome as fuck, and now being so close to his face you can say it with all confidence. His beard is shaved perfectly and he smells incredibly good even for someone who has spent time locked away without any kind of hygiene, his green suit protecting him from the cold air that was getting through the opened window.

“Who are you?” he asks, scanning your face with a curious look as he wanted to know what expression you would have when you know why he's there in the first place — “What do you know about Stella Nightshade, your mother, selling me out?”

Fuck. So that's why he's there. You know she did it. And it's impossible for you to lie when he's making you so nervous, away from any weapon, any form of defense as you left the glass in the bathroom sink when you notice large gash on your hand, and your silence makes nothing more than leave him fuming. If he was angry before, he now reaches a higher level as his grip turns more violent now that he knows you know what he meant, why he's there claiming to talk with your death mother out of nothing.

"Call her then. Use your powers" he demands dryly, and you're shaking at this point cause it's more shame added to the long pile, the bathroom already being a humiliation by itself. "Fucking call her."

You squirm beneath his grabbing, when he's pushing you harder against the concrete wall and you can just feel him from under the suit, hard cock pressing against your belly, green in your vision as he towers over you. He knows what he's doing, and even when you try to be disgusted by it, you find yourself enjoying his closeness, how he's pinning you with no effort at all, hands on your throat while he demanded an answer.

"I can't call her" you admit in a low voice, cheeks now red as the embarrassment crept upon your face — "I don't have my mother's power."

Soldier Boy seems to not believe you for a mere second, after that you can feel the blade of the knife pressing against your skin, a threat that now becomes more real as you can feel the cold metal stomach. One swift movement and you'd be stabbed without a second thought.

It's sick how much you enjoy it when you are squirming against him, goosebumps in the zone he threats to destroy.

A force pull his lips upwards in a smile, unable to pay attention to nothing else but the sound you made without even realizing it. "You like that, huh little Nightshade?"

It seems to be a joke for him, bitting your inner cheek to prevent you from saying something stupid, from letting out a moan in response to all the sudden desire.

Despite all conditions you stay silent, holding his gaze like it's a game you're not going to lose. He didn't respond either, trapped in a second that seemed longer than the usual when time stopped around you, eyes looking like he can surpass the old fabric of the white shirt you choose to wear.

It's the tension what makes you mad. You're so into getting people like him, that your ego is bruised now that you notice you are actually attracted to all of that, to the way he's pressing you against the concrete, how all falls into place when he's pushing himself against you, invading any private space you could require.

He's kissing you soon after. Ben crumbles against the tension as the hand on your throat demands a kiss now, pulling you closer to his face without any warning nor concern as he crash his lips against yours in a rough kiss. You try to push him away in response even when you don't want to; see, it's hard to even admit you have interest in Soldier Boy in any other way more than the professional, but when he's bitting your lower lip you're letting your defense down: When is the last time you've been kissed like that?

You remind yourself you're tired from work, that the CIA has done nothing for you more than fuck your over and over even to this point, losing sight of one of the most important heroes of the word, and it's making you encourage to let go just for a mere hour.

"Lookin' so good takin' a bath" he says, and the sound of his deep voice is enough to send an electric wave through your spine, like he’s talking to himself as the hand on your hip is now tracing the curves of your body, taunting you from over the shirt he now learns to love. His beard is now scraping against your skin and you can feel his lips going down, tracing an invisible path to the crook of your neck as his hand is no longer choking you.

Jesus. Was that even happening or was that your imagination? Did you feel asleep on the bathtub? Maybe it’s a reflection as you are close to drowning, your brain doing that happy thoughts shit. You’re tilting your head to the side just to give him more space to work with and you’re just letting it be, enjoying how he’s sucking and nibling on your skin to leave a red mark behind, all teeth and no fucking control as he uses a good amount of force to make you moan in the process, the pain enough to remember who’s really on charge.

Ben forgets about asking any more questions, he’s too busy when his hand are taking decisions by themselves as they slide under your shirt, body still cold from the bath you just took, water still drying in your flesh when he’s like he usually is — An invader.

His hands are big and they’re capable of holding your whole tummy as he caress the soft skin that seems to expel a warm sensation, how it leaves goosebumps in any place he touches. You remember you’re basically at his mercy now that his hands roam with all liberty under your shirt, the look he gave you in the bathroom mistaken you for Stella, his eyes looking at any exposed skin he could look at.

“What the fuck,” you try to say under your breath, to keep on this facade you have of a composed person, one that won’t give in to be manhandled “What the fuck do you think you are you doing?”

“Well, i’m not seeing any complains” The blade cuts through the cotton leaving a large hole you know you won’t be able to sew after yet he’s right: There are no complains, nothing but eager that makes him go further as the seconds passed “In fact, can see that you’re pretty much enjoying it, Doll.”

You hate the nickname, that old man way of speaking when he’s squeezing one of your breasts with more force you can even handle, cursing at how easy it seems to be for him, how he wants to see you simply destroyed.

“You’re loving this isn’t?” he ask all sudden, studying you with his hazel eyes — “You love being a good whore f’me? My little Nightshade.”

He’s hard under the suit, covered in a green material you don’t know how to call as your hand searches for him, crave for him, convincing that it's what you must do as you trace the invisible lines his muscles made.

Soldier Boy’s messy, much like an animal when he’s groaning beneath your touch, his own body seeking for yours as your fingers grew bolder, demanding for a deeper contact — “Careful there sweetheart, i’m still fresh out of the oven. May be a little rusty."

You laugh at his words cause you know what he means, yet your hands work by themselves as you barely even touch him from over the suit, the hard feeling of his cock against your palm, hips buckling against your hand seconds after seeking for you, eyes shut for a couple of seconds.

“M’being careful” you say, catching yourself stealing a look at his reaction, taking your time on pleasuring him , gulping as he experiences the torture of your touch “Taking it slow for an old man.”

“Old man, huh? Now you're talking” He teases, and the sound of his laugh just fucks you up. Maybe it has to be with the fact he’s placing two fingers in front of your lips while looking at you, swollen pink lips he’s so fixated for a second, or it’s because he is, indeed, way older than you are — “Spit.”

It’s not a command, but it sounds like one as you’re unable to disobey, quickly spitting in his hand as you can visibly see the traces of saliva leaving a wet residue in your chin, one Ben looks at it for a good amount of time: How is something like saliva is so damn erotic? He doesn’t know it, but it’s enough to send him into a spiral.

He’s strong you think, cause he’s a superhero. He’s Soldier Boy by any meaning, so it’s not a big effort to hold you in his arms and lift you in the air as you let out a gasp of surprise, spanking your ass as one of his hands separates your legs for him, holding one up as you stand in the other.

“Relax, 'got you, doll” he says, your back against the wall as he kept a bruising grip in your hip, holding you in place so you don’t have to keep your balance — “Fuck you smell so damn good.”

The roses and vanilla aroma lingers on your skin as you finally understand what he's doing now, his hand close to your cunt as he taunts you, torturing you like you did so eagerly before, his personal pet as his digits get lost in your entrance now, your folds spilled with juice he can physically feel in his fingertips, your arousal's so nice against the palm of his hand he cannot help but kiss you, a feverish desire taking over his actions, the lewd sound his fingers made when he finally pushes his digits inside of you, velvety walls welcoming him as they seemed to squeeze him already — He has made such a good job on turning you on, it’s impossible to not react when he’s finally touching you, pumping into you in a constant pace.

“Jesus fucking Christ,” he says, the look on your face is enough to make his cock twitch in his pants in response, imagination running wild as he thinks about that very same feeling in a much deeper way, how you’d look now stretched out, crying just like you did when he choked you asking for information — “Such a nice cunt, so wet f’me.”

He's looking at you, holding the image in his mind forever: Pink pussy displayed for him, white t-shirt rising over your chest, lifting your leg over his arm as his muscles flexed by the force he's using to fuck you deliberately, your lips parted as you ask for more in between erratic moans as his fingers curved inside you so he can hit that nice place he can reach with no effort at all, that one spot thats makes you moan louder.

"Ah-fuck" you let out. Ben's all about touching you for what it seems an eternity, thumb grazing against your clit when he's plainly torturing you, testing how much patience you have left now that he has full control of you.

"Don't cum," he demands, your heartbeats are louder by the seconds as he lifts you slightly, lips attacking your neck before the words escape from his mouth "Need you to come undone in my cock first."

He's leaving marks, marks you don't remember how to hide but don't bother you at all, touching you as he pleases you, taking all the time in the world cause it seems like the night belongs to him — Getting started as you shake your head in an improvised yes.

Yes. The thought is pure electricity, the sudden need to please him as you shake your head once again.

“Please Ben,” you don’t recognize what you’ve become now. “Please let me cum in your cock.”

"Go on doll, put on a show f'me" the supe says with a grin you cannot resist. "Bend and show me that lovely ass."

It’s all it takes. His fingers are now away from you, but you’re now facing the wall as you obey, bending until your cheek is pressed against the concrete and you can hear how he’s now unzipping his pants, the green fabric of his suit now to the side.

You look at him from over your shoulder, bitting the your lower lip as you check him out, his slightly curved dick pointing upwards, precum already leaking out.

“Like what you’re seeing or what?”

“Yeah, but there’s no fucking way.”

You’re feeding on his ego now, but you can’t help it when his size is far from what you consider it’s common — “Common’ doll. You can hadle it.”

You gulp in response cause you know you’re more than eager to try, just the sight of his own hand holding his lenght as he strokes himself making you drool in response. Fuck. It transforms in a need now. When he positions himself beneath you and he’s spitting down to that very place where he’s pushing against your hole, saliva coating his cock before just letting the tip inside.

Lubricated, he pushes a bit more and it feels just damn right. Even when it begans to hurt as he’s thick enough to force himself inside you.

Benjamin knows you’re in pain so he waits a second before shoving his cock inside one more time. You need some time as he stretches you out, clenching your teeth while he works.

"You're doing it s'good" he praises, hand massaging your back as he prevents himself from fucking you at his liking, “Takin' me like a champ."

"God" you let out a sharp moan moments after, crying when you felt the pain more than anything else — "Can't-"

"No doll" he hums as he pulls slightly more. “You can do this” he forces himself in until he's finally balls deep inside your cunt, letting you adjust to his size as he can feel fucking everything. Your blood flow, your velvety walls that squeeze him unused to someone as big as he was, your face distorted in what seems an intense mix of pain and pure, devastating pleasure — "Atta girl."

Strikes like lighting.

Soldier Boy's bitting your shoulder-blade as he waits, waits for it to switch into pleasure, to become intoxicating to the point you cannot longer remember your own name.

"Please move," you ask sooner than he thinks, and when he moves, you can feel it in your belly, melting your fucking brain as he repeated the process again, burying his cock as deep as he could go without any previous warning — "Ah, just like that, please-"

"Do you like how my cock is stretching you out now?" Ben's voice is way deeper than what usually is as he laughs, grunting behind you as one of his hands reach a fistful of your hair, grabbing it with force to pull your head backwards "Good girl, keep huggin' my cock."

You're drunk on the feeling, on the vibrations his voice sends every time he's saying something dirty for you, when he laughs victim of the pleasure.

"Gonna' keep you as my personal slut," he thinks out loud, pushing you against the wall every time he fucks you, using his other hand to spread one of your ass cheeks to the side so he can hit it harder. "Use you as my fucking pet so I can cum on your pretty face whenever I want."

He's moaning, your body’s sweaty as he pulls your hair without caring, not concentrated on the pain it produces as his hips continue on collide against you.

"Would you like that, little Nightshade?" he asks then in a low voice, his thumb pressing against your asshole as he fucks you harder now that you're used to his size. "Could get used to this pretty cunt. Promise to keep my cock whore nice and full."

It doesn't take long. Soldier Boy's moans are now filling the room as his pace becomes faster, slurred words between his erratic breathing when the hand on your hair comes up to finally grab you by the neck, like he can read your mind cause it's exactly what you need to get there, to experience by first hand a set of crashing waves that were getting more and more intense on your stomach.

You're close to the edge. He can smell it in the air when the sound of your skin slapping against his is loud enough to be all you can hear, mixing with the lovely moans you produce when he’s pounding into you with no mercy, fingers pressing the side of your neck with enough force you’re running out of breathe.

It’s messy, violent and you love it, love how he’s ruining you all sudden, fucking you up from the inside, making your vision turning dizzy in response. You’re immersed in the haze he’s driven you into before admiting:

“God i’m so fucking close.”

“Cum on my cock,” it sounds like he’s begging you to do it, fingers finding their way to your swollen clit to move against the sensitive flesh “Come on doll, leave me full of you.”

He’s making you move now, hands now controlling your hips as you take him as his liking, mere seconds until you’re finally crumbling, violently shaking as you finally reach your peak. He keeps on fucking you through your high, long enough so he’s pulling out all of sudden, stroking his lenght over you as his cum finally lands on your back leaving you convered with his load.

Fucking hell.

When you’re coming down from your orgasm shame seems to hit you hard, however for Ben is not enough when he’s kneeling on the floor, eyes on the mess his cock made out of you.

“Wanna go again, little Nightshade?” he asks curiously, and the question makes you laugh in response, forgetting about formalities and the trouble it meant you were intimate with Soldier Boy out of all the supes in the world.

“Hm,” you seem to think about it for a second, his breathing close to your wet pussy as he’s still wearing his clothes in contrast of you being so exposed — “But you’re keeping the suit on.”

He don’t have any complains when he’s the one pressing his face against your wet folds.

Funny thing is now when you’re forced to join the Boys days after that very encounter — A bad joke when you’re now babysitting Soldier Boy himself.

“Been missing you s’much little Nightshade” he admits after a couple of minutes alone in the filthy motel “Thinking about how cute you are, how you felt taking my cock so nicely in your living room.”

“Fuck off, Ben.”

“We’ll be quick” he promises “That stupid assholes back there wont even notice.”

You seem to think about it for a second before lifting your middle finger in response — “I said fuck off, Ben.”

For now, it’s enough for him that you’re thinking about it.

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