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#jujutsu kaisen smut
sxnzu · 2 days ago
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⟣ jjk multi character x f!reader
⟣ piercings they love on you. head cannons
⟣ cw/tw: mentions of overstim, oral, sex, thigh riding, face fucking
⟣ a/n: sorry for not posting for a while.. I’m doing other fandoms now so I thought I’d start with a JJK version of this. all characters are aged up
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Nipples. They’re either shamelessly in love with them and constantly wanting to touch them regardless of where you are (cough cough, Gojo particularly), and/or they love to get you on their lap when at home so they can admire them at their leisure. Feather light touches with the pads of their fingers. Gently suckling them in their mouth while they grip your hips, slowly dragging you across their lap or thigh
⌎ Gojo, Nanami, Utahime, Maki, Choso 
Clit. Once they know you have it pierced, you’re lucky if you find time with them not between your legs, one way or another. The way you cum extra hard when they play with your clit while you’re stuffed full, until your face is shiny with tears and throat raw from crying out with overstimulation. Or how extra shiny the jewelry looks when they pull their mouth back from your cunt, and the cute little gasps you make when they tug on it with their teeth. 
⌎ Getou, Toji, Shoko, Todo
Tongue. The ones who see the flash of it in your mouth when you’re talking, instantly remembering the feel of it against their tongue when they kissed you that morning. Or how it felt against them when you went down on them, dragging it against the most sensitive places, driving them mad until they’re fucking your face in a frenzy because it just feels so good. 
⌎ Megumi, Yuta, Noritoshi, Mahito
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Network: @planetonet | @http-404-error-unknown
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seindou · a day ago
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backstage quickie with rocker!nanami and cums inside you three seconds before curtains open for good luck 😗
tw;  fem!reader / afab!reader, unprotected sex, semi-public sex, exhibitionism, mirror sex, creampie, biting
notes; get ready bonnie because rocker!nanami OMG (also idk if you’ve seen the rocker!nanami fanart because THATS WHAT I IMAGINED) 
(nsfw below, MINORS DNI)
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Backstage quickie with rocker!Nanami —
It's like he doesn't feel any shame in this very moment when he pounds deep into you, a shocker honestly as he wasn't this bold and hasty in your first few months of dating.
True — the backstage room was empty.
True — it was merely meters away from the stairs leading up to the stage.
But that does not change the fact that the door remains unlocked — slightly opened even. It was unbelievable how no one came barging in or felt bothered enough to close the door, considering the whole room was filled with noises of skin slapping and wet sexes, groans and moans. Deep inside, you and Kento know that the others have heard it all.
You squeeze your eyes shut, feeling his warm hands going up to your bouncing tits, fingers rubbing and twisting your hardened nipples.
"Gah- Shit! Ken!"
It was fast, all too fast.
His hips continue to thrust at a quickened speed and your arms that support yourself against the vanity slowly weakens. Kento moves his hands down, placing his vice grips to your hips you swear there'd be bruises tomorrow. Except it felt right knowing he would tend to them tonight.
Broken up cries leave your lips when he lifts your leg up, placing it on the vanity. He doesn't stop and instead opts to circle his fingers around your clit. "Gonna cum for me, eh? Better make this quick — gonna start soon."
"Mhm!" You whined, sentences barely able to form in your head as your brain focuses on reaching your high as quickly as you can.
He groans, his hands now helping to fasten the pace upon feeling your velvety walls clench hard on his member.
"Think — you deserve another one-" Your eyes roll to the back, enjoying how he manages to hit that same sensitive spot over and over again. The addicting feel of curling and tingling grew inside you. "— after this."
"You sure-" You moaned while biting your index. "You got- the energy for that?"
He hisses. "Who said I couldn't?"
"Fuck 'm gonna cum —" his thrusts turns sloppy, yet its pace remains the same. "Gonna give me some g'luck, yeah?"
"We're about to start the show —"
You inhale sharply after hearing the staff's voice from outside.
"Almost there, beautiful." He heaves out. "Take it all in, hm?"
For once you look at the mirror before you and notice how strands of his hair were plastered against his forehead. Heat rises up your cheeks at his sudden glance, an eager yet sly grin spreading across his lips.
"In 3 —"
"Woah-"
"Agh! Y/n!" Kento continues to slide his length along your tight walls, the tingling feeling he's been chasing at now pours into his body.
With one last thrust, the two of you came undone. Quick as you first started, you trembled, the high covering the ache from his bite on your shoulder. You didn't care, only gasping at his length sliding out of your cum-filled pussy.
"2 —"
Despite lacking energy, with force you made yourself face him. You watched as he took the damp towel that was somehow prepared prior to this and swiftly cleans his length.
Maybe you were too focused on the way his lips were on yours, his tongue that slides along yours in such a quick manner that you don't realize that the towel's now in your hand.
He leaves a hard peck on the crown of your head. "So good for me..."
You barely blinked, to see him almost headed towards the door.
"1 —"
Biting his bottom lips, a grin displays itself on his face while he shoots you a wink.
There, he heads out, making sure to close the door shut.
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©  2021 seindou, do not repost or plagiarize.
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kocoir · a day ago
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FIGHT CLUB ⪧ GETO SUGURU
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⪧ wc: 2.4k
⪧ cw: f!reader x underground fighter! geto + descriptions of fighting and injuries + blood + praise + cockwarming + mentions of Gojo.
⪧ a/n: just a repost from my old blog, really proud of this one so hope you like it<3
⪧ tagging: @bajimi @suget
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His big, rough hands covered in the typical white bandages to protect his knuckles, but at the same time stained with his opponent’s dried blood. Each blow is harder than the other, muscles flexing every time he bends his arms to hit the occasional uppercut straight to the other’s bruised chin. Between those bruised forearms and scarred fists when he gets into a blocking stance, you can see that wild look of determination overflowing his dark eyes.
His hair, the one he had arranged in a perfect bun at the beginning is now completely undone, letting the unruly locks fall over his shoulders and part of his back, sticking to his forehead and the sides of his face thanks to the uncomfortable sweat at the same time his cheeks were stained with a bright crimson color. Those soft, pink lips now marred by small cuts thanks to the hard punches, his left cheekbone somewhat swollen with a purple stain adorning it. The image of his heaving chest, rising and falling in a desperate attempt to bring air into his lungs is what gives it away.
A direct punch on his nose is what makes him stagger for a few seconds. The screams and your voice calling out his name are a very distant noise, feeling a small buzzing in his ears which makes him shake his head and blink a couple of times to come back to himself. He doesn’t realize he is bleeding until he feels the familiar metallic taste of the blood invade his palate and the small crimson drops slide down his chin to touch the ground.
He looks utterly defeated, but he’s not going to lose, especially not when his girl is in the front row witnessing it all. The euphoric cheers of encouragement from the crowd and your comforting face just on the other side of the circle of fences surrounding them, is what ignites that fiery flame in his chest and once again, the heat rushes through his entire body along with a sudden spark of adrenaline. It’s as if a current of electricity runs down his entire spine, through his strong arms and into his nervous system, flowing through his veins all the way to his hands.
He swore he didn’t enjoy this, that it was just something to earn money to pay for college since he couldn’t get a steady job, but the smile on his face at the exact moment his knuckles hit his opponent’s cheek, causing him to fall to the ground with a thud echoing throughout the place, makes him realize that it’s something that makes him feel completely and utterly alive.
His face lights up the moment he sees the referee bow to the other person lying only half a meter away, counting to three to finally approach Suguru and raise his arm in a victory sign to which instinctively his face turns to see you with a warm smile. I win, is the last thing you see him mutter before disappearing into the wild crowd.
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“Ouch.” A pain-filled hiss fills the silence of the small room one of the leaders assigned to him so he could recover.
“Can you stay still? That’s the third time you’ve moved.” The annoyance in your voice is quite noticeable, accompanied by your furrowed brows.
“But it hurts.”
“No one told you to let him split your lip open.”
“It was a direct hit, what was I supposed to d—” A small choked gasp escapes his throat the moment your fingers press the alcohol-soaked cotton back onto the bruised skin.
“Dodge it you idiot— You’ve been doing this for months, you’re supposed to know what to do by now.”
You can see his eyes drop to the floor, breaking the contact with your gaze. “Aren’t you… Aren’t you proud?”
You bite your lip in regret, had you been too harsh? “No, it’s not that. Of course I’m proud, it’s just that—ugh, I just don’t like seeing you all hurt… You look like you came back from the war.” A snort of defeat escapes your mouth, looking around your surroundings until your gaze falls back on his unrivaled figure. Sitting on a small couch almost on its last moments, his body dressing only a pair of worn out black shorts that he most likely stole from Satoru, the fact that he’s not wearing a shirt lets you see the bruises adorning his abdomen and above his ribs while small scratches along his arms don’t go unnoticed. “But I’m proud, I always will be.”
The room fills with silence for a few moments until you hear that typical mocking laugh roll out from deep of his throat. Your face full of confusion is what makes him laugh even harder, the melodious sound reaches your ears but you can only find it irritating. “Of course I know you’re proud, I just needed to hear you actually say it.”
“You’re insufferable.”
“You still love me.” You can see his eyebrows go down at the same time his eyes almost close completely as he smiles, a genuine smile, plastered completely across the width of his face to which you can’t help but curve the corners of your mouth as well.
“Unfortunately.”
He shakes his head as all the laughter fades into the air. Geto settles into his seat, leaning his back fully against the back of the worn leather chair to which he lands an elbow on its armrest, taking the opportunity to rest his chin on his right hand. You can see his legs slowly spreading apart, as if he wants to give you some kind of invitation without saying a word.
His jovial black eyes rest on your figure, slowly making their way up and down without any remorse, taking note of how short the black skirt you wear is and how well the delicate fabric accentuates every inch of your rigorous hips until they reach your chest. You can feel his gaze eating you alive, feeling your skin burn as if he is undressing you even though he is not laying a finger on you. His dark irises shift along your t-shirt, Suguru’s girl, hoarsely murmuring under his breath reading the text to himself.
“My eyes are up here, you know?” It’s the only sentence you’re able to formulate amidst the few nerves that wash over you.
“I know exactly where your eyes are, sweetheart.” He lets out a deep sigh as his free hand taps his legs, and you can see out of the corner of your eye how the corner of his lips lift slightly, causing the familiar dimple to make its presence known on his cheek, “C'mere.”
You silently obey, your footsteps making the old wood creak beneath your feet until you are standing in front of him again as at first. Straddling his lap at the same time you feel his thighs tense as you place your full weight on them without breaking the strong contact of your gazes.
He straightens up a little more, peeling his body from the comfort of the old-fashioned seat back, taking the opportunity to run his rough hands over your thighs. You can see his bruised and slightly injured knuckles clearly, taking a note to scold him later for not protecting himself properly with the bandages. But no matter how many fights he’s been in, no matter how many noses he’s broken, his palms run over your body gently, as if you were the finest china in the whole world, as if he were afraid you’d break at the slightest touch.
You feel his fingers finish tracing your waist to intertwine themselves behind your back as he looks at you softly. “Did I already tell you already how sexy you look today?” And there goes the softness.
“You need to stop hanging out with Satoru, you’re getting more and more annoying.”
A smirk creeps across his face, “You think I’m annoying? You think this—” His hands quickly sneak under your skirt, gripping your ass tightly, squeezing between his digits the flesh as he pulls your lower half towards himself, forcing you to rub your clothed core against his, enjoying the proximity of your body to the point where your chests are only inches away from each other, “—is annoying? ” A small moan rolls from your lips at the sudden contact. “You don’t seem too bothered by that, baby, or am I wrong? Do you want me to do it again?”
His hips move upward again, letting out a low growl that is barely audible to what you press your center even harder with his growing erection. Even though you are separated only by the thin fabric of his shorts along with your panties and his boxers, you can still feel him throbbing hard beneath you.
“Suguru, wait—”
“Take them off.”
“What?” Your face full of confusion only makes the impatience grow more.
“I said—”, his long fingers tangle around the edge of your underwear, stretching the thin fabric between them tightly until the sound of clothes tearing fills the silence of the place along with his agitated breathing, “—take them off, or didn’t you hear me?”. You can feel your panties slip down between your legs until you see them resting in his hands in front of you, only to see them disappear into the right pocket of his worn shorts. “You don’t need them anyways. You know I can fight.”
You swallow hard at his words, picturing in your head the image of you walking out of the small room to walk among the people, mostly men, with nothing covering you underneath, with the risk of the slightest breeze lifting your skirt exposing you to the hungry eyes of others. The mere thought makes your heart crash hard against your chest and your cheeks burn from the sudden heat.
Your thoughts are interrupted by Suguru’s palms landing on your hips, helping you move in a back and forth pattern on top of him again and again, feeling his fingertips bury themselves into your skin. Soft grunts and moans filling the air as his breath collides with yours, feeling his warm breath make contact with your half-open mouth, impatiently rubbing against his prominent bulge. He pauses for a few moments to look at you, wetting his lips with his tongue at the image of your flushed face and your perky nipples showing through your white t-shirt, leaving little and nothing to the imagination.
His breathing is heavy, feeling the heat coursing through his body like a flame as he palms his member over his pants. A small chuckle reaches your ears as he sees your eyes looking straight down, “Looking at something you may like, princess?” His voice is husky, somewhat deep, causing a wave of shivers to run down your spine as you move on top of him. “Do you want to fully see it? Mhm? Is that what you want?”
Without a second thought you nod enthusiastically, feeling your heart pounding hard against your ribcage. The blood flowing through your body fluidly and quickly, feeling the heat invading your entire being as Suguru slowly pulls down the hem of his thin shorts.
Eerything feels in slow motion and you grow more and more impatient, until you hear the familiar sound of skin colliding against skin, leaving the imposing cock standing tall in front of you in full view. The tip tinged with an angry red color, at the same time you can perceive the small slit spraying precum, making the sticky liquid run freely along its entire length until it reaches the prominent vein resting at the bottom of it. It has an slight curve going up that you know from experience that serves perfectly to hit that sweet spot deep inside you.
“Stop looking and sit on it.” His raspy voice snaps you out of your trance, lifting yourself up as you grab the edge of your skirt, lifting it just a little above your hips to give him a better view. His rough hand grips the base of his member to line it up at your entrance, not before running the tip against your wet folds, collecting your warm juices with it, pleased by the way the little moans come out of your mouth effortlessly. “Fuck baby, you’re so wet…. c'mon do it, I— Mhm, that’s it, God you feel so fucking good.” His head falls back heavy, enjoying the way your gummy walls hug him perfectly, as if they were made for him. Feeling you contract each time you sink deeper and deeper, almost filling you completely. Almost. His big hands cup your ass, massaging it between his thick fingers hard as he pushes you harder. “Spread your legs a little wider for me, I know you can take more of it.”
His palms make their journey to the junction of your hips and thighs, squeezing the flesh of this area hard, forcing your body to go a little lower. Small agitated sighs reaching your ear, pulsing inside you hard with the slightest movement. “Yeah… Just like that, sweetheart.” A smile creeps across your mouth at the sweet praise in between the little gasps, encouraging your body to slowly move up and down patiently, feeling the stretch burn your insides with every tiny move, until you feel a pair of warm hands take hold of your waist, bringing your body back to its starting position, sinking you deeper onto his cock.
“What are you doing?”
“I thought that—”
“Oh no baby.” His voice cuts you off mid-sentence, in a soft tone, just for you to hear but at the same time he’s hiding a hint of sorrow at seeing your helpless expression plastered all over your face. “I said sit, I didn’t tell you to move, did I?” One of his palms happens to take place on your cheek, stroking the warm skin tenderly with his thumb, then hiding a lock of hair behind your ear. He leans in a few inches until your noses barely touch. You can feel his warm tongue lick your lower lip until your mouths meet in a small peck, feeling the metallic taste on your palate thanks to the small cut on his lip. “I won’t fuck you properly till we get home, but I know how much you like being full of me so here we are… Now—”, his light touches against your skin make you shiver, his fingertips gently grazing over it until he pulls away from you. Reaching on the small table next to you for the forgotten absorbent cotton along with a small bottle of alcohol, “—be a good girl and help me clean my wounds. Will you?”
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kentoangel · 2 days ago
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⋆☄︎. *. SUGAR DADDY NANAMI KENTO HC’S, SMUT VERS.
warnings. afab reader, you’re a nude model, he praises you, cums on your face and tits, soft bruises / hickeys, mirror sex, fingering, oral (both male and female receiving), overstimulation (he makes you cry sigh), penetration, he’s kinda possessive (moans), slight exhibitionism, allusions to him having a breeding kink. swearing, fluff if ya squint, minors dni notes from vale. holy fuck am i going to hell (anything for him tho)
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SUGAR DADDY NANAMI KENTO sits you on his lap after he’s done drawing you. he spreads your legs open (facing the floor to ceiling windows), murmurs a low such a good girl into your ear as your head rests on his shoulder, as he gropes your breast with one hand, other trailing down your tummy. isn’t it exciting how anyone could be watching as i pleasure you? he’ll ask as he’s rubbing quick circles on your clit, on your folds. and he’ll breathe out dirty nothings into your ear, worship the way your hips thrust toward his fingers, leave hickeys on your neck and soft bite marks on your shoulder he’ll draw on his painting of you later on.
SUGAR DADDY NANAMI KENTO spoils you rotten. he clips a classy golden necklace onto your neck with his initials on the locket, in front of a mirror so you can admire yourself. you’re so pretty, angel, he says, rough around the edges and soft in the middle, as the tips of his fingers graze your skin — softly, almost tenderly. and then his hands are on your hips and he’s gripping your bare skin, pressing his bulge against your ass and looking at you through the mirror. he fucks you into next week, grunting and groaning and moaning about how fuckin’ pretty you are and how fuckin’ good you feel around his dick. he intently stares at the way your tits bounce through the mirror, at the way the necklace he’s given you glitters under the dim bathroom light along with your skin. you’re fuckin’ precious, he grips your hips even harder, rams his cock into you, and all mine.
SUGAR DADDY NANAMI KENTO likes it when you sit on his face, when you’re a stuttering mess above him and he knows he’s making you see stars by the way you’re gripping the headboard and by the way you’re asking for more and more and more. he likes eating you out until you’re crying, creaming all over his face, grinding down on him because you can’t help it.
SUGAR DADDY NANAMI KENTO will tangle his hand in your hair as you’re sucking him off, other hand caressing the side of your face, telling you that you’re doing so good, asking if he can cum on your face and on your tits (your top is bare, breasts prominent to him and the sunset, bottom covered with loose pants). you nod, feverishly so, and once he’s feeling his climax — he tenderly pulls you away and cums on your face, watching as his seed drips down to your collarbone, breasts, tummy. he wants to fill you up — something he can’t do, though. he’s your sugar daddy — nothing else, nothing less. he’s only supposed to financially support you.
SUGAR DADDY NANAMI KENTO rips off the dress he’d bought you (simple, sexy, yet overly expensive. nothing he can’t afford, though) after you arrive at his place from a gala he’d taken you to. he worships your body, more than usual but you can’t complain — it feels divine to be treated like a deity, especially by someone like nanami kento. and he admires the way your chest rises with the locket he gave you. he unbuckles his belt, pulls his pants down and then pins your hands above your head — interlaces his fingers with yours, lips to your neck, leaving heart shaped hickeys on your bare skin — silently telling you that he’s starting to fall in love with you, hoping they’ll stay on you long enough so the others will see that you’re his, but also because he wants you to know that, maybe, he wants more than to be your sugar daddy.
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taglist. @oikawaandkuroostan @uppermocns @daylightmars @werewolfsupersoldier @qxsunarin @arrogantsonofabiscuit @moonlitdabi @fushigur-ho @whorefornoodles @cielitoot7 @iwafilms @bloomed-in-starlight @nanaminshousewife @sourstars @makkiwhore @sunnykiyoomi @daichisdoll
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hours-of-eros · 2 days ago
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性交 — 𝐀𝐅𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐃𝐀𝐑𝐊 𝐇𝐎𝐔𝐑𝐒
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Cockwarming professor Nanami after a harsh day at uni sounds good. I don’t mind getting extra hours at his office. I just want to sit all pretty on his shaft, teasing him a bit by moving my hips for him to gives those harsh thrusts I’m longing for.
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« Stop moving. Or do you want me to fuck you dumb on my desk already ? » he says, digging his fingers deeper on your hips as you lightly nod your head, your cheeks burning from anticipation and your eyes low on the ground. A light yes escapes from your pretty lips and you can feel his chest rumble underneath the palm of your hands.
« Too bad. I’m not one to give impatient little brat what they want. »
Truly. Professor Nanami can be cruel sometimes.
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yikimiki · a day ago
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omgomgomg big dick toji who puts only the tip in bc he’s wayyy too big…. but ends up balls deep😵‍💫
Oh my god… I can see it… Toji slowly pressing his fat tip against your little hole, reassuring you that he’ll take it easy, that you don’t have to worry. You give him such a pretty moan when he pushes his tip in, and he’s so huge that even that is enough to make you trash beneath him. Toji’s not doing much better — the way you’re clenching around him is making him see stars, your soaked pussy dripping down his shaft, basically sucking him in. Something possesses him then, and he’s pushing all the way in, making your eyes widen and tear up at the sheer size. “Sorry, baby,” he mumbles, “you just feel too good to stop.”
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willowfolksong · a day ago
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the sadness of missing and the joy of reunion
- Gojo Satoru x Reader; Fushiguro Megumi x Reader.
-NSFW (minors dni)
a/n: although this particular work belongs to my 🧣 RED Love Story Collection, i remind you that i have my requests open! I've been getting a lot of Haikyuu ones recently, but I would love to write Jujutsu Kaisen too! ❤
Gojo Satoru
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Saying goodbye to Gojo is always hard, because he's the first one that doesn't wants to let go. The day before a mission he'll usually stay in bed with you, whining loudly each time you try to get up. You're not safe from his fingers, or his tongue, and he'll whisper sweet nothings in your ear while he pushes his cock deep inside you from behind, both of you tangled in the sheets. You talk about ordering food to share while watching silly movies, but he insists he wants the two of you to cook.
"Come on! It will be fun!" he tells you, tugging your hand and leading you to the kitchen in your pajamas.
You try to follow a pie recipe you find on the Internet, but end up making a mess instead—Gojo taking pictures and laughing histerically at every mistake you two make. You finally give up, when the fear of burning down your kitchen becomes too much. Gojo grabs you then and sits you up on the counter, and you end up putting the blueberries to another use.
You moan, and look down to see him holding one between his teeth and dragging her lazily against your clit. He winks at you before swallowing it down "I think that's enough sugar for now"
He eats you out like a starving man, and you decide to make pancakes after you've come at least twice in his mouth, and one around his cock. Gojo hugs you from behind the whole time, and you eat the fluffy treats sitting on his lap by the couch, a movie you don't pay attention playing in the background.
You fall asleep on him— your head on his shoulder— and you don't have any way of knowing it, but he never sleeps on the nights before leaving you, opting to watch you until sunrise. Only in those fleeting moments the great Gojo Satoru allows himself to be scared. He knows, after all, what is like to lose the ones you love.
You wake up with your alarm, and although he's long gone by then, usually something of his stays behind. Most times he leaves you a coat, but once he even left his shoes by the door, joking about sending a clear message to everyone that comes to your appartment.
The long wait begins.
Fushiguro Megumi
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Waiting for Megumi to come back is pure torture. On top of it all, he never contacts you during a mission. You get no text, no call, anything that actually tells you that yes, he's alive and well, and he'll return to you. So you pace around your appartment, you go to work, you talk to your friends and watch TV, but your head is filled with only thoughts of Megumi, and so you take comfort in the little moments alone, when you scroll through your phone and look at the pictures you have of him: most are of them alone, either reading or just simply existing, but you have the need to take photos of him doing basically anything because he's just so gorgeous to you; others are of the two of you, mostly selfies, and the little secret smile he saves only for your eyes has your heart melting everytime; a lot of them are also photo bombed by Gojo, or Itadori, and sometimes even Nobara is in the background, and you laugh but always end up tearing up because you just miss him so much.
The reunion is worth it. He always returns unexpectedly, using the key you gave him and making you jump in excitement and rush to his arms. Your kisses quickly turn hasty, hungry, the 'I miss you's going back and fort as he pushes you towards the bedroom. You crawl into the bed, scooting backwards in a hurry, and he follows you like he can't help himself. You spread your legs and he makes quick work of whatever you're wearing, yanking your panties aside at the same time his other hand pushes his own pants and boxers down. You only catch a brief glimpse of his cock, hard and ready, as he nears— and then your eyes are fluttering shut at the first feel of hot flesh on your most intimate place. You throw your head back and moan, grasping his shoulders as he sinks smoothly into you.
"Please" he whispers in your ear, and you're not sure what he's asking you, but you know that in that moment you would give him anything.
Megumi kisses you again, greedy and desperate, and starts fucking you in short, harsh thrusts, as if he couldn't bear to slide all the way out before he was fucking into you again. It's fast and hot and you're  panting in between kisses— and sliding a hand down to rub at your clit, whimpering and arching your back. You come soon, clenching around Megumi's cock and grinding down on him.
"Fuck" he groans, eyebrows furrowed in concentration and sweat dripping down his temples "You're beautiful, you're so beautiful —" You cut him off by yanking him down and kissing him roughly. He slams hard against you, and his hips work frantically as he comes, pumping you full of come.
You're laughing of pure joy when he collapses against you, shaking, and he soon does the same, as your arms wrap around his back.
"So... you definitely missed me, right?" you joke, and feeling his chuckle against your skin is the best thing in the world.
You're home.
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🧣 RED Love Story Collection
Part XI - Next is 22.
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earlesskitten · a day ago
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— DRIFTING SHIP. | SUKUNA RYOMEN
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— 𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: a woman living in the world of dreams
𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐭𝐫𝐢𝐠𝐠𝐞𝐫 𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: monsterfucking (i guess), non-con to dub-con (read at your own discretion), coercion, corruption, size kink, tummy bulge, choking, sacrilege (if you squint), pretentious dialogue based on a belladonna of sadness scene.
𝐚/𝐧: i just re write this for the song, so y’all better listen to it. reblogs, comments and feedback to improve are very appreciated <33 diosito perdóname por la porquería que acabo de escribir
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Your eyes blink, trying to adjust your vision to identify your new surroundings. Your beloved husband is not at your side. You are not in your bedroom.
In panic and confusion, trying to identify where you are, you turn around as you sit up to get a better view of the scenery.
There is a thick blue smoke in the air that doesn’t solve that doubt. You can’t make out anything but the heavy fog that clouds your vision. No matter how much you squint your eyes to make out, even if it is something distinct from the smoke and move around, you can’t recognize the strange place. Your heartbeat quickens, your breaths become more agitated and a latent uncertainty of not knowing what is happening stirs your insides.
Contrary to what it might be associate with the color blue, the place gives off a warmth that suffocates your body in the heat and humidity. The thin white rags that serve as your pajamas are tattered around your torso and drenched in sweat. Your breasts are barely covered by them, and your nipples are standing out against the thin fabric.
And that’s when you understand. It was happening again, although there is something that distinguishes it from other times.
Sukuna manifested in the first instance as a “friendly” little demon in your life, promising prosperity for you and your husband. You are foolish to think that something outside of God could be good and help you without expecting something great in return. Guilt and anguish have brought you to this point: a Lord-fearing woman who has let sin into her home, who has let what little morals she had left crumble.
A woman in despair who would do anything to save someone who doesn’t deserve to be saved. He was curious to see how far you would go. He knows perfectly well that the man you swear to love looks down on you, but he is still by your side because of the grief and remorse in his conscience that would not let him sleep if he left you, all with the excuse of “forgetting the past”.
The nights went on forever. Each night he would come back to haunt you in your dreams, growing bigger and becoming a more deformed figure with each visit. He enjoys watching your sleeping figure and laughing at your face as he watches your body tense as he roams it. He would never go past caresses with the desire to go beyond what he can imagine; how your fragile and defenseless body would look beneath his, how you would clamor and beg for him to fuck you more, having you in every position in existence with his member outraging your hot and slippery walls as he plays with your delicate figure and the how it would break easily, or just merely watch you from the darkness as he smiles with the impure and twisted concept in his mind.
He is playing with your dreams, reminding you that it is merely the beginning of endless, sinful suffering to come.
Before dawn, you wake up with a slight pressure on your neck and when you look at your naked body in the mirror, hickey marks on your collarbones are visible around them. You never connected it to Sukuna thinking he was your husband in the evenings when he came in tired and needed to take it out on something.
The more his presence becomes heavy and weighs you down with each passing day, the more you force yourself to believe that you were doing this for your lover, that you had to endure the presence of the demon or entity to get him and you ahead, forgetting the past; repeated your conscience over and over again, when you want to burn the bitter memory and leave it all behind. You see in Sukuna that little spark of hope, so your fragile mind cannot help but trust him blindly.
He only asks for one small thing in return: your heart or at least what it desires — what it hides behind that facade of a good and kind woman that annoyed him so much. Something as banal as your body (which already belongs to him anyway) does not compare to your heart and soul together, willing to do anything for him and serve him for all eternity.
He wants you to cry it from your own mouth, that you belong to him. That’s the least he deserves.
And you are there: so beautiful. You are more beautiful than any god or goddess that has ever existed or ever known — so exposed, trembling and trying to analyze what was going on around you.
Finally, the moment he’s been waiting for has arrived.
He approaches as a kind of amorphous mass that seems to be lost in the bluish smoke. Your body recoils and a whimper comes out from the terror that stalks you and your breath hitches again. Your throat betrays you and constricts, making it hard for you to swallow saliva properly and your arms are shaking.
“Go away.” You could barely whisper. Ultimately, the effort is futile and he won't stop until he gets what he wants.
His mocking laughter rumbling all around is his way of letting you know how pathetic he finds your plea. You're not sure if the place where it's supposed to be is hollow enough to produce an echo, otherwise, you can't explain how the vibrations of his thick voice resonate and make your body shudder at them. Another sob chokes out amidst the terror that stalks you. Your hands fumble and make your body fall for every step you try to take back, causing the process to repeat itself.
You turn again quickly in different directions, trying to search for it with your eyes, knowing that at any moment it may change shape. Your sight blurs again when you see that through the fog something darker and denser gathers at a specific point; he finally decided to materialize.
His lonely white smile stands out from the dense dark mass, growing wider as he sees your agitated body awkwardly trying to pull back. He knows that sooner or later it will break and you will no longer be able to move forward to get away from him. It's like a little game — like you’re a mouse in a cage; he can approach you and take you whenever he wants, but he prefers to entertain himself by watching his prey try to find a non-existent exit, watching how desperation intervenes in its logic and looks for some illusion trying to escape before he swallows and engulfs it.
You try to escape again. With an act of courage, you finally manage to muster, your hands propel your body to stand up and run away with all the strength you have.
He wouldn’t make it that easy, and it certainly stresses you out because you know you'll never be able to outrun him. With great black waves of darkness that he summons and emanates from the ground, he stops your step every time you try to change the direction in which you try to escape and the non-existent possibility of getting out of there is strongly marked. In a small oversight, you slip and fall to the ground again, returning to the initial position in which you were before.
You are lying on the floor on your back, with your arms spread out on the side of your shoulders and your legs crossed to the side, revealing your semi-naked body. The old rags still cover the body parts the demon needed to explore once the pact was closed. You are aware of what is happening, however, you do not get up because you are dazed.
And that is a great advantage for him.
The position you are in makes you look vulnerable and delicate. He can no longer resist outraging you in every existing way his imagination has given him the power to conceive — tormenting you in every dream of yours until you give in to temptation and accept that you have always been his property.
And he just needs to reclaim it.
Still turned into that formless black mass, he runs through your body from head to toe in the time it takes you to do an action and a shiver spreads from your ankles to your hips. He still doesn’t materialize as it should, but the weight of what is supposed to be its body falls on you, ending up taking you by the shoulders, and thus, you can no longer move.
“Stop, please...” Is all you can whisper between little whimpers, wanting to push him away from you. He just merely sneers at the writhing body beneath him that is seeking to escape from his grip.
“Why should I? You know this is what you want.” He persuades, mocking your frailty and enjoying the position he has you in.
His shapeless fingers lightly grasp your neck. Though your eyes are closed, you squeeze them tighter and turning away the half of your face. Your hands try to push him away with all the strength you have, being impossible because his endurance is more than yours and it is he who now holds your wrists, raising his body more to see how tired you are from trying to free yourself.
His red lips are distinguished by the fiery red color emanating from them, forming a wicked smile. A demon’s grin. You are so scared to even notice it, yet you are realizing you just stopped trying to fight him out.
“Yes... this is just what you want, isn’t it?" he reaffirms, hearing you whimpering underneath him, “you look so miserable trying to pretend you don’t. i can give you all the power you desire and you know it perfectly well. I just need a sign. A small sacrifice in return."
It’s useless to try to struggle with him. His hot breath travels down your neck. He wants to go lower and lower, but he’s the one who stops himself to do it, just because it’s not the right time yet. Your eyes are closed, your breaths are combined with sobs and your head is thrown back. You swallow hard, trying to find the right words to negotiate with Sukuna.
“My soul belongs to God, as it always has,” you swallow hard, trying not to loose yourself in the uncontrollable moans, “and my heart belongs to my husband.” you explain in faint whispers, not even looking at his face or looking at whatever it is.
You’re so pathetic and despite that, he wants to dig deeper and see how much more you can take — you’re already his anyway. The simple fact that he can get into your dreams as many times as he wants and play with them tells him about how much you want him to fuck you, to make you his, to give you everything you want.
“My body...” you whine in desperation, for him to go away and leave you alone, "I can give you my body... you can take it and possess it whenever you want...” you lick your lips, seeking some air and continue speaking, “but you will never have my heart or my soul... never.” You cut dryly, challenging him, still knowing he is capable of doing something horrible to you.
Sukuna just stifles a chuckle, tired of how naive and innocent you’re pretending to be. He remains reluctant that it's an act of false humility. You're a power-hungry whore, he knows perfectly well.
“Fine, you're already mine anyway. But let me convince you some more.” His voice echoes in your head, leaving uncertainty in what he would do next, even if you were aware of it.
He sneers at you again and sheds his amorphous mass. You remain dumbfounded and with your eyes closed, not realizing that it has begun to change shape — it is getting bigger. You don't realize it because you are afraid to open your eyes and see what is transforming before you.
He is now a muscular man with pink hair and tattoos on his face. He is dressed in a narrow white robe that covers his entire body, tied with a black ribbon. Two small eyes protrude, just above those that any human being should have.
But he is not a human being.
That’s why he has 4 arms coming out of his torso, which seem to come out normally without the tunic he is wearing being affected by it.
You open your eyes, still uncertain if it’s the sane thing to do, still knowing if a horrible monster, it reveals itself to you and you see how huge it is. It gets bigger, it seems like it’s never going to stop. A neutral but frightening expression adorns his face, as he watches you from head to toe with that serious countenance. He knows that his presence alone is enough to make you horrified.
He is relatively close to you. He looks even more gigantic by the fact that you are still lying on the ground. Now he smiles. You lie on your side, watching as he looks at you curiously. Your body looks so small compared to him. It is intimidating.
You are terrified and yet your clit throbs. You remember that you are in your underwear, the full exposure and the feeling of embarrassment takes over. Unconsciously, you cross your legs so that he doesn't see you exposed and your hands are the ones trying to pull back. Realizing that, Sukuna corners you again, his eyes on you and holds your arms crouching down to where you are. He doesn’t say a word and with his other two hands that he possesses, he grabs your legs and spreads them, exposing your pussy; but he can’t see it because he keeps looking into your eyes.
Even knowing that the effort is futile, you try to put up some resistance. He is bigger than you in length and shape. You are like a toothpick to him, which he can break if he wanted to at any moment.
He smiles again, he looks like a child playing with a new toy. He is more disturbing in her true form.
“Sukuna... Please...”You whisper whimpering low in his ear. Your clit twitches from the growing arousal you’re starting to experience and you try to close your legs because for the embarrassment, the shame of feeling excited.
“Ah... You’re too beautiful when you ask for things so desperately.” He lets go of one of your arms and grabs your cheeks squeezing them with his strong, thick fingers to see your pretty face screwed up and disoriented.
“You're so good...” With his fingers he tears the fabric covering your tits and undoes them. They bounce as he releases them. Up to this point you just stand still, letting him do whatever he wants with your body. Fighting would be pointless and that's when you find no other way out but to let yourself go with the stimulation. “Yes... That’s it.” He murmurs, as a way of reassuring you — of letting you know that he has control over you.
He doesn't consider himself vulgar enough to grab your tits abruptly. He wants to enjoy every part of your body and own it.
With his lower arms he spreads your legs further apart. With his other hand he grabs your neck and with the remaining one he takes your pussy between his fingers. They are big enough to cover it with. You produce a little moan when his fingers are playing with the sensitive labia, moving them in an arc, without touching your clitoris. You tremble and cry with the stimulation. You swallow saliva and gasp at the touch of his fingers.
“What is it, Y/N, do you want more? You say you don't want this, but tell me? Then why don't you ask me to stop? I can feel your sweet nectar coating my fingers.” You’re wordless, you know he’s right.
He squeezes your neck tighter and you let out a choked moan, his fingers are so close to your clit, which is enough for you to almost cum. He wouldn't make it that easy.
“You like it, don't you, slut?” he asks dryly.
You want to deny it, but your body says otherwise. He wants you to look him in the eyes, so with the 2 free fingers of the hand he’s holding your neck with he makes you look him in the face, longing for you to see how he makes you go crazy and makes it harder for you to hide it. You arch your back and clench your fists, wanting him to finish quickly so you don't show him you're falling for his game. His big fingers massaging your little pussy gently and slowly makes it hard, you wanted him to pick up the speed.
You just look at him as if you are challenging him. All the emotions you feel towards him combine — the hate, the terror, the lust, tearing at your throat. You didn't want to admit it felt as good as the little touches to your pussy were driving you to ruin.
You moan into his face and close your eyes because you don’t want to see his expression as he does it. You feel like you’re about to cum without having properly without having been properly touched. He realizes that, but you know that’s not even close to what he’s going to do next.
He removes his hand from your neck and legs. He finally sees your pussy dripping with your juices while you are still on the floor, still in disbelief that you were about to reach your first orgasm with your breath hitching. Not even your husband is able to leave you like this.
He loosens his body for a moment and gets rid of the robe that was getting in his way to make the next move, letting it slowly fall all over his beefy body.
God, you realize how gigantic his cock is and it makes you freak out and look at him in awe and horror, wondering how you’ll fit all that inside you. You want to pull away — it's something you really want to do, but you stare at his thick, fluttering, big member in front of you, which has been throbbing and waiting to fuck your swollen pussy.
You swallow your saliva. He uses his powers and floats you through the air with his powers to scissor your legs open and pull you towards him, as if you were a rag doll. Your body just drifts, completely lost, eyes half closed, floating like smoke from a pipe in the depths of the swamp.
Blue and hazy, you are the devil.
He welcomes your small body with open arms and embraces it between his 4 arms. You look into his eyes, wrapping your arms around his neck as if you were embracing him. He is hungry for you. He grabs your hips with his down arms and you feel the thick tip of his girth. You gasp, clinging to his body. You feel intoxicated by his imposing presence.
He is too big in every way.
His persuasion is working, you are no longer able to say no to him or even deny that you are not liking it. The tip of his big cock strokes your entrance in circles, mixing your wet pussy with his liquid, rubbing everywhere.
“Yes... Was that so hard to admit? You’re hungry and not just for power? You want me to fuck you in every possible way while you have the world at your feet.” He’s moving close to your clit, getting you to the edge, watching you with that cynical look. “Am I right?” He murmurs as he slowly pushes the tip in.
He's inserting just the tip, which is big enough to bigger your lite hole around him. You let go of your walls around it, lowering your hands and moaning as he continues to push her cock in as slowly as he can. Now he spreads your legs apart with the hands she previously grabbed your hips with and flips you onto your back. The sudden action causes you to let out a small whimper from the pain.
Your entrance becomes wider as he slowly enters. It’s painful, but that doesn’t take away from the fact that it makes it feel so good as it slowly buries itself. You’re going to lose your mind, it’s touching your sweet spot. You bite your lip, close your eyes and tighten your walls around him. You realize his cock is getting bigger when you see how swollen your belly is, watching him make a bulge in your womb.
Your legs are completely apart. Sukuna grabs your neck again and squeezes your cheeks.
He doesn’t move when he finally introduces everything. It’s torturous, his masculinity flutters as he’s touching that spot. You want him to move, but he does not. He just stays with bated breaths from him, watching the bulge that formed in you and making it bigger and bigger.
You wonder to yourself how he hasn’t torn you up inside or how he hasn’t torn you apart. You just know you want him to move in and penetrate you, to tear you apart. It was already simply too much to ask. You squirm and squeeze around him, seeing if that way you can get pleasure.
“You are so desperate. I’m glad you’re finally realizing it. Just watch how you move on my cock to get some satisfaction, huhm? I like having you like this, watching you being a slut getting your own pleasure and how you look like a cute animal trying to get it.”
His throbbing, growing cock is ravaging inside you without him moving properly and he is aware of it. Your walls are keeping him warm and wet, which makes it completely difficult not to try to move inside you. He just likes to admire how his cock sticks out of you.
Now he strokes your clitoris, making it more torturous to want or even think about cumming on it. You sob and moan, turning into a little panting and whimpering machine. His fat, swollen cock twitches a little, making the wait more torturous. He wants to hold back the urge to fuck you but it’s utterly difficult.
He puts pressure on your neck, playing with it and your clit in a controlled rhythm. He squeezes your neck tighter and tighter as he sees how you're going to climax, later stopping and repeating the process, feeling your tight walls become tighter around him.
“Ah... Sukuna. Please...”
“Begging again?” he moans, moving in circles, as a way of telling you that you wouldn't get the precious orgasm so easily. “You know what I want you to say to make it possible.”
It's getting bigger and bigger and you feel like you’re going to fall apart. You start thinking about the whole shitty life you’ve been living and if you were letting Sukuna let you bury his cock in him just for him or if it was for your own satisfaction. Maybe the shortness of breath wasn't letting you think properly or you’ve just always been a selfish person from the beginning.
With that in mind, you finally you succumb to your selfish desires.
“I offer you my soul. My whole being is yours, just please.... Fuck me, fuck me and make me feel like the most selfish, disgusting, powerful person in the world. I want to feel the rage, how my hair falls out and my teeth rot. Make me feel powerful. I beg you.”
That's finally what he wanted to hear.
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tags: @nkogneatho
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suget · 12 hours ago
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mrs. venecia, mrs. venecia <3 i've been thinking a lot about pussy job with gojo... like, imagine him using it as a punishment instead of a reward. he teases, saying: “i bet i can fuck you only using the tip and you'll still make a mess, won't you?” :( and he's right, because as he slides his cock down your pussy lips, teasing your pretty 'n puffy clit, you're close to almost squirting all over his dick :( just so needy :( care to elaborate further?
˚ ୧ WORD COUNT : 0.9k
˚ ୧ CONTENT : f!reader, mentions of tears, use of pet names once (sweetheart), very slight praising.
˚ ୧ A/N : so you decided to attack me directly with this, so I'm giving you a little bit of everything back in the form of a thank you
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"Ow look at that," Gojo mumbles to the room, talking more to himself than to you. "Stay open for me, I want to get a good view of that glistening pussy."
You're on your back on the sheets, your knees narrowly touch your chest and Satoru says with words disguised as a request that you hold your legs out for him, spread them a little wider so I can get a better look at you.., that's it, good girl.
You're on your back on the sheets, your knees narrowly touch your chest and Satoru says with words disguised as a request that you hold your legs apart for him, spread them a little wider so I can get a better look..., that's it. Good girl.
Meanwhile, he is at the edge of the bed. His bare feet are on the floor and one of his hands grips his cock firmly to run it through the middle of your moist slit, you feel it heavy and wet dragging and messing up your juices, squeezing it a little above your hole and then laughing when he sees the way your pussy flutters for him, followed by a broken gasp that no matter how hard you try to smother through your teeth it ends up coming out.
"What's the matter? Use your words."
All this time Gojo hasn't bothered to look at you, too interested in the reactions your body has whenever he speaks to you— he knows you so well at this point that he doesn't need to see your face to confirm that you're enjoying it as much as he is, since every time his big palms caress your tummy, encircle your soft thighs and your muscles contract beneath his touch he does nothing but smile.
One of your forearms covers the shame on your face, you don't want to beg him, you're not going to beg him, though the way the heavy head hits your little clit and those slapping sounds fill the room make you throw yourself off the cliff and embrace your defeat.
The mushroom tip crushing your nub of nerves moves to your heat, Gojo slides the head inside and your toes curl and you are forced to lift your head to observe what he is doing or why he is not moving and it's then for the first time during the elapsed twenty minutes that he dares to look at you. A crescent shaped smile peeks out of his face and his eyes sifting like a wild animal create flames in every fiber of your body.
"I bet you could cum with just the tip of my cock," he tells you without looking away from you. The depth in his timbre of voice makes your dripping pussy clench again in a signal for more. You need more and he knows it. "Let's try that..."
Satoru begins a delcidious torture in which only the tip of his cock goes all the way in and out again, in an endless thrusting in and out that has your juices dripping down your thighs and staining the clean bed.
"More..."
"Yeah? My baby wants more? Tell me what you want."
"You fucking me." You're quick to give voice to your thoughts.
"How? Like this...?"
The moment you try to speak Satoru takes a small thrust backwards and pulls completely out of you only to fill you with him once more, but this time he goes all the way in you, so deep that he steals a scream that was probably heard by the neighbors —something that pleases him— and that made you able to feel the curly hairs tickle your puffy clit.
And then he does it again. He goes out and in and expands your walls to their peak and makes a mess of your arousal.
A third time: the veins around the girth stimulate places inside you that almost make you release your grip on your legs and try to run away from the immense pleasure.
"Please!" you moan as he does it one last time, this time the curve of his cock torturing that sweet spot inside you that makes your eyes crystallize.
"Or like this, huh?"
From one moment to the next Gojo is hammering his hips against you, sinking your weight against the mattress and making the perfect pose you hold for him end up unraveling. He grabs your legs firmly and locks them with both hands to push your knees against your chest once again, this makes your cunt even tighter and his thrusts can go deeper.
"There you go, sweetheart," he cooes as he feels your twitching become more frequent, more violent.
He knows you're close so he decides to change the pace, now he's not going so fast but harder, he seems to know exactly how to move so he knows which places to touch to get exactly the reaction he wants from you, it's like he's reading the palm of your hand, every corner, every detail, he can see it all with those intense eyes of his.
"Yeah? Like this?" Gojo licking his lips to get some moisture on his tongue, having his mouth open panting like a dog thanks to how fucking hot you look has his throat dry, he's dying to get close and eat your mouth.
His thrusts go in deep circles and in short back and forth, you're almost there but he stops.
"Baby... baby, Satoru—" You call out to him desperately, every single particle of your body yearning for his touch. You feel empty, frustrated and confused.
Gojo returns to the task at the beginning. His dick soaked with your fluids rests on your tight hole, you feel it throbbing so hard you could cum with the vibration of it. There's a trickle of precum spilling through your folds and you grunt, dropping your head back.
God. How you hate him, you can't win a single time when you play against Gojo Satoru.
"Squeeze your thighs, I'm gonna give you a nice pussy job. If you cum without my permission... your punishment will be much worse."
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© suget — all rights reserved. please do not copy, translate or repost my work. don't share it on tiktok.
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miracl3girl · 13 hours ago
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More dilf nanami please omg the proffesor fic was just chefs kiss 🥰🥰🥰i am also on my knees for more nanami content
thank you for your support. i will probably make multiple dilf!nanami posts because this gave me a lot of ideas so please stay tuned 👍
Such a cliche that you first meet him at your part-time job: the local cafe. You’re immediately drawn in by his mature aura; you feel like he could protect you and take care of you. Luckily for you, he thinks you’re very cute. When you take his order, your voice trickles to his ears like a babbling mountain stream and he finds himself asking for your number out of the blue. He’s flustered by his sudden action, how unprofessional! How childish! But he’s pleased when you blush and shyly write it down on his receipt. A phone call leads to the first date, which leads to many more. About five months into your relationship though, you answer your door to Kento wringing his hands and he says he needs to talk to you. He sat stiffly on the couch, very different from how he usually lounges when you two are together. He tells you he has a kid, but it’s not that he’s a deadbeat dad or anything! The separation was difficult and they hadn’t even been married, but she managed to convince the court that he was too busy to be a good parent and it’s not like he didn’t fight for the kid, his biggest dream is to settle down and be a father but she was manipulative and controlling and he’s sorry he kept if from you this long he just couldn’t get the courage to tell you and he totally understands if you want to breaku- he stops at the feeling of your lips on his as he melts into your warmth, knowing that it would be okay. You reassure him that you hadn’t cared about the slight age gap and you definitely won’t care about him having a child. So when the time comes and you both are ready, you will create a family together. Until then, he can take care of you! Giving you all the kisses he can, cuddling you when you’re sad, and of course fucking you whenever you need him to. Even if you can’t get pregnant, he’ll breed you every night if you want. He makes you fall apart with a certain expertise that only comes with age. His dilf dick might have something to do with it as well though. He has you twitching and thoughtless when he says, “you getting’ off on the fact that i’m old enough to be your dad, sweetheart?”
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wasurenagusaa · 2 days ago
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Moth to a Flame
Gojo Satoru x Geto Suguru x F! Reader
Word counts: 700 words (NSFW)
Warnings/tags: Reader x Satoru x Suguru, Cheating, angst, smut, unprotected sex, i am so sorry for the pain.
Notes: Barely proof-read, we die like real men here. This fiction is cleaaaarly insipired by the song Moth to a Flame by The Weeknd and Swedish House Mafia.
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Satoru’s eyes can’t leave your figure.
He remembered your laughs tonight at your engagement party. All your friends gathered around you both, congratulating you. “He’s the one for you,” your best friend said while hugging you.
You looked happy, your face so beautiful as usual. You are always smiling at him, oh God, he loves you so much, but he knows that something has been wrong. You are smiling but your eyes are empty, your mind absent.
You have been together for almost three years now. But he never saw you with sparkles in your eyes, ever since the first days of your relationship.
Yet he knows you love him. You never said it, but you love him, right?
His heart is clenching at the sight and all the stupid thoughts he kept repeating himself.
He saw the signs. He read the lines.
He saw the change in your expressions whenever he was mentioned in a conversation.
He knows you were heartbroken after the massacre that made him leave. He knows this was traumatic for everyone around.
"But does he know you call me when he sleeps?"
He knows about your calls.
When you two make love, when he murmurs “I love you” softly in your ear, when he kisses you so gently, worshipping your body, finally cumming just from you moaning his name.
But he knows you wait until he falls asleep to go to the bathroom to call him.
He hears his voice even when you try to be quiet.
"But does he know the pictures that you keep?"
He knows about the pictures.
Pictures of you and him holding each other, when you graduated from high school. You two kept in touch even after what he did. He saw your smile, your eyes. He saw you holding hands. He saw the pictures in his bed. He saw your naked body covered in bruises and bites, his hand holding yours on the picture. He saw an expression on your face he never saw. You are glowing when you are with him.
"But does he know the reasons that you cry?"
He saw the texts.
The message he sent you to explain why he did what he did. How he can’t be with you. How much he loves you and wants to hold you, wants to kiss you. He read them all. The private ones. The ones that asks if he knows. Even the dirtiest ones.
Even the one that says “I love you. More than anyone. S.”
You cried so much that night. Satoru remembers the tears running down your beautiful face, how you held onto him like you were drowning, like he was the only one that could save you.
When you finally fell asleep he saw the text on your phone. Do you trust him that much to not protect your other life with a pin code?
But he pretended he didn’t know.
And yet. Now that he sees you with him, he can’t deny it anymore.
His back is facing Satoru, your soft fingers are running in his shiny black hair while he holds your naked body in his arms.
He sees your two bodies moving in perfect harmony, your hips moving up and down with Suguru’s hands grabbing the fat of your thighs.
He hears the gentle moans coming from your mouth, and the soft grunts his best friend makes whenever he is deep inside you.
"Oh, tell me, does he know where your heart lies?"
He sees your face, contorting in pleasure, and your arms going around Suguru’s neck.
You are both in your world, you don’t see him when he is in front of you.
You’re holding your lover so close to you, Satoru knows you’re afraid of losing him.
He cums in you after his final assault, his lips bruising your neck, his voice praising you, telling you how beautiful you are, how he loves you.
And Satoru knows where your heart lies when he hears you say these words he never heard “I love you”
He sees you kissing his best friend, and he knows.
And your beautiful e/c eyes, finally shining, finally glowing with joy and love, your eyes finally find his sky blue ones in the dark of the room.
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sizeklink · a day ago
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thinking of todo aoi.
tattoo artist todo, specifically. he is so fine with all those years of self-practice and parlor discounts decorating both arms and a little of his neck. thinking of how he has to crouch over your body because he’s a fucking bear in this cramped back room, and you want this extremely detailed little tattoo above your hip.
your hip, which he keeps taking in strong, thick hands to balance himself while he works. the metal of his bracelets kiss your skin, much like how his chains would kiss your throat if he had you folded under him. you know, like he’s been thinking of doing for the past hour. you’re tempting, trying to subdue your shifting so as not to disturb his work. he doesn’t know whether to be happy your ass is in his face or sad he can’t watch your face contort in pain.
(during a quick stretch break, he moves some mirrors around so there’s one in front of you when you lay back down. just so he can see the tattoo from another angle, make sure it looks good every way. no other reason.)
tattoo artist todo is nothing if not focused. he takes his work very seriously, and each of his clients is important enough to him that he memorizes their names in case they want to come back for more. he would never do anything to jeopardize his professionalism. but you, squirming around and whimpering at the needles stabbing into your skin, are wearing down on the little bit of control he’s scrounged together since losing it at first sight of your face.
at a particularly hard jerk, he squeezes your hip, savoring the way it gives for him. he bets your body would do the same for his dick. “hey, y/n.” he asks gently. “you alright over there?” he’s worried about you. he’s incredibly skilled, of course, but even masters make mistakes on occasion. is the needle digging too deep?
when you affirm that your pain tolerance is just on the lower side, he looks at you through the mirror with a grin. “aw, don’t tell me it’s too much for you. you can take it, can’t you?”
he hopes the words will quell his desire to say them under very different circumstances.
todo gives you a soft pat on your thigh when he’s done, helping you to stand. you fall forward - your legs are weak from disuse - but it’s okay. todo’s there to catch you with strong arms and a firmer chest, smelling like warm vanilla and musk.
he holds you steady by your waist. his fingertips squeeze into the pillowy flesh there, sinking in like it was made for him. it’s so comfortable. so comfortable, that he leaves them there as he helps you out the door. he prays you’ll be back for another, more detailed tattoo. maybe on your lower pelvis?
yeah. let’s hope.
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kazutoraloml · a day ago
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gojos fingers ….. in my cunt …… as he whispers ‘good girl’ in my ear
!! minors & ageless blogs, dni !!
n-now.. now hold on.. cause.. he... HE :')
gojo knows you're a sucker for his fingers – they're so fucking long, so pretty, so thick. and he'd take full advantage of it. he knows he's so much taller and stronger, and it doesn't take much effort from him to have your wrists held in his hold while his other hand spreads your pussy apart, humming at how wet you are already.
"barely done anything baby, you really that weak for me?" he taunts, hot breath hitting your ear as his long fucking noodle legs hook around your own to keep you still (you get squirmy, he knows).
but that fucker doesn't even let you speak, letting the tip of his index finger brush against your clit ever so gently, making you gasp and try chase it cause you want more – you need it. he's been teasing you all day :(
remember how i said his fingers are thick? yeah... they'd fill you up so good, you'd feel so full. gojo loves the way your pussy struggles slightly to fit in two of them in one go, always clenching and throbbing – which is exactly why he's gonna do that again :)
"want my fingers? mhm– course you do. so greedy. c'mon, let's open you up..." he whispers, two digits rubbing the slick against your weeping hole before dipping the tips of them in, and he has to hold back a groan from how tight you feel already. "that's it– good. so obedient. takin' them like a champ huh?"
and he smiles against the shell of your ear once they're all in you, knuckle deep. they're soaked, he knows you've dripped down to the bedsheets but he doesn't care. instead, just angles them in so they rub against your g-spot and goes, "good girl, so fucking good for me." BUT... makes you do the work. just holding his fingers there and making you rut your hips so you could feel something :( he's a meanie
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ztoji · 2 days ago
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BOSS NANAMI THOUGHTS¿?
# : his favorite nickname for his favorite person is bunny. no further questions allowed!!! super short because i got an empty brain and couldn’t continue writing this any longer lololollolllolll
tags : none? really, just some suggestive shit
“what have i said about being late bunny?” kento says, putting his right leg over his left. veiny hands going up to hit trousers, slowly - as if to tease you, opening up his belt.
as you are about to defend yourself, he interrupts you. “there’s no possible excuse for missing the whole morning. what’s more important than being a hard working adult. hm?”
you watch closely as he plays around with the belt, now off, in his hands.
“‘s not my fault my alarm didn’t ring when i needed it to.” you mumble, crossing your arms as you stand in front of him. an almost unnoticeable smirk forms on your lips as you can see his eyes going towards your chest, as your breasts press together with the way you cross your arms.
“don’t act so smart now baby. i even tried to call you, and i, as your boss, should not have to do that.” he continues, “you’re a grown adult, stop acting like a child.”
your smile slowly falls.
“now, c’mere baby.” kento says, patting his empty hand on his knee, “lay down. make sure to get as comfortable as you can while you’re at it.”
:: reblog and comments r always appreciated <3 don’t be shy :D
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sandsorghum · 4 hours ago
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Sex Therapy
MINORS DNI
Originally written for @getoswhore's 2K Porn Collab! (Congratsss!!)
Adult Actors AU
Nanami Kento is a rising star in the porn industry. You're a novice. But he takes an interest in you for his latest project, where he plays... your sex therapist?
Plus, Gojo Satoru's the director.
WC: 10.6K (this got out of hand) Warnings: Smut, Pornography, Unethical Therapy?
Nanami Kento, as a rule, did not make love. He manufactured it.
Initially, with mass produced, low-budget, grainy footage flicks, full of cliche, gaudy premises; story lines sheerer than his co-stars' negligee, and even more redundant with how easily they were ripped apart.
But they'd given him the opportunity to hone his talents, to discover, then develop his unique selling points. Guys didn't often last long in this business, regardless of stamina, skills or natural endowments. Career longevity, let alone success, demanded an extra special something. Nanami supposes it's a stroke of luck he'd been imbued with that trifecta to begin with - and that other factor? Achieved through ambition and consistent effort.
In this industry, it was more artifice than craft; though with his work ethic and considerate treatment of his colleagues, he'd genuinely earned the respect of his peers and importantly, a few key directors. All it took was several breakout scenes and soon, his name was on speed dial for hundreds of casting calls. He even had the luxury of turning down consecutive shoots, his schedules fully packed for months, back to back. Most men would stagnate in the Amateur category, languishing before fading into obscurity, rippling bodies easily replaced. Nanami Kento's rise, by comparison, was meteoric. In a matter of years, he had earned the moniker 'The Artisan'.
Never mind that he thought of it as just another job. A reliable, if taboo, way to pay the bills. His shame was fossilized, as significant as scraps of lingerie or rubbers discarded on the gonzo sets of long ago, a garish and graphic distant past. All promiscuity, no plot.
These days, he had proper dialogue. Mood lighting. Motifs, even, occasionally. But still, it was all just a blur of bodies. Nanami's lost track of how many people he's fucked - he wouldn't recognise any of them if they stood in line with him on the metro. They probably wouldn't make eye contact anyway. He couldn't care less to.
Why then, now, does he feel that old creeping humiliation in the illumination of his screen, hazy blue-glow casting an iridescent sheen as he lazily palms his cock, gaze glued to the woman writhing before him? The stickiness gobbing through the webbing of his fingers is familiar, the shame settling deep in his gut, equally hot - is not.
She finishes before he does, and he closes his eyes, presses bass-boosted headphones deeper into his canals, lizard-brained and lumber-boned, chasing her subsiding breathy whimpers, imagines them tickling and grazing his sack, imagines her doe-eyed as he drips upon her parted lips, glistening reflection seeping to the corners of her dewy gaze, on the edge of satisfaction. Her fading gasps tangling through him, twist of his wrists' tendons, jerking through bramble thicket static, snarls clasped to his pounding chest in pursuit of an instinct gnarled and deep-rooted, bough aching to snap but then - it cuts to black, and a frustrated grunt eclipses the last of her moans,sinking into the mulch of him, heavy as the realisation relief will not flood his belly tonight.
Uttering a single clipped expletive, Nanami plucks tissues from a box, annoyances crumpling into white balls destined for the bin. He taps at the space bar once, staring at the name under the clip. The keyboard rattles a few more times, before a sigh breaks over them.
{This performer has no other videos to show yet. Stay tuned!}
Nanami reaches for his phone, bites the inside of his mouth, hesitating. He's about to break his second rule. But the blood is still pumping molten through his veins, coursing everywhere but his brain
Fuck it.
He scrolls through his contacts, recognizes the name with sufficient clout, and clicks in with a wince.
I'll do it, on one condition. I want her.
...
"How do you not know who Gojo Satoru is!?"
"Cut me some slack Kasumi, I just started out in this world."
"The Arousal Auteur? Savant of Sensuality? Eros Genius?"
You wrinkle your nose. "Who's calling him that?"
"Everyone! Kioka, c'mon! You've never heard of Roses in Autumn? Or Cobalt Nights? Don't they ring a bell?"
You shake your head, turning back to the mirror and daubing on mascara.
"Not even Vacant Violets? Even people outside our industry know that one. It made its way to the short film circuit!"
"So he's some pretentious indie director type who says his work is Art not porn."
"Hey, people are saying he's gonna be the Scorsese of smut. He likes working with the same cast across his projects too. So you should take this opportunity seriously, he really could catapult your career."
"Give me some credit, I take all my jobs seriously."
"I still can't believe you landed this gig! And it's not even an audition?"
"No casting couch, far as I know," you remark wryly, pursing your lips together before applying another layer of gloss.
Your housemate pouts. "I wonder what guardian angel is looking out for you. Wish I had your luck."
"And talent?" you grin at Kasumi who rolls her eyes.
"We'll see after your grand debut with him. If anybody can help you out..."
"As my senior, why aren't you the one giving me more useful advice?"
She glances up at you, head tilted to the side. "Honestly?"
You nod, earnest. "I really could use some pointers, especially if he's as important as you say."
"To be frank then, you seemed rather tense in the past few videos."
You groan, "I've been trying to work on that but it still feels so awkward..."
"Screwing someone you have zero chemistry with?" Kasumi finishes your sentence bluntly. You drop your gaze, feeling pink tint your cheeks.
"Well, get used to it girl. Gotta fake it till you make it."
"I know," you sigh. Your resignation hangs in the air for a moment before Kasumi slides a sympathetic hand over yours.
"Were they attractive? Or at least knew what they were doing?"
Your exhale is short and sharp. "That's the irony isn't it? They probably learnt all their techniques from what we're making up."
Kasumi laughs out loud at your observation. "There really should be some sorta bootcamp for the boys huh? They're beginning with a handicap."
"I know sometimes we're expected to get ourselves wet and ready, but last week one dude literally spend 15 minutes trying to find my clit. Ridiculous."
Your friend makes another small, pitying noise. "Well I hope today goes much better for you. I promise you, the veterans are all amazing. I'm almost compelled to discontinue my membership over at Emporium Erotica - well, almost."
You giggle at Kasumi's caveat while she continues cheerily, "So, any idea who you'll have to tolerate this afternoon?"
You shake your head, glancing at your watch. "Not a clue, I don't even know the details of the concept yet. Just that it's a one-on-one."
Kasumi crosses her fingers as you stand to leave. "Hopefully a man with a little more experience than the previous partners. Perhaps you'll even cum for real this time!"
...
The universe seems determined to take her well-wishes as a challenge. You blink and stare at the name on the call sheet again - one you definitely recognised this time, but the characters still blurred with your disbelief.
Swiftly you fish out your phone to text your agent.
There must be some mistake. He doesn't shoot with amateurs.
Their reply fails to reassure or elucidate. It's a request straight from the director. What Gojo Satoru wants, he gets. Just do your best.
Easier said than done, you've suddenly got vipers for veins.
"Excuse me. Kioka-san, I assume."
You whip around, every synapse hissing as your eyes fall on your would-be snake charmer. You try to swallow your nerves, but the motion only liberates tremors from your throat.
"M-mr Nanami! Um i-it's such an honour!" You bow profusely, prolonging the delay of having to meet his gaze. You can already feel it, piercing and prickling along your nape, though that's nothing compared to the serpents slithering down your spine upon hearing the vaguest lilt of amusement in his tone.
"No need for such formalities, especially given the nature of our jobs."
Your face tinges fuchsia at this astute observation. That's right, you should be behaving more professionally! You chastise yourself. It's not like you were a complete novice.
"I suppose that's - that's true. Everyone always seems so well-acquainted with each other in this industry."
"It's relatively small, and tight-knit. I understand if it seems overwhelming at first for a newcomer though."
You finally level your gaze at Nanami with this specific reference to you, and more uncomfortably, the chasm between your experience. His hazel eyes are not unkind though or even, entirely neutral, as they regard you. Were you imagining things, or was there something tipping beyond perfect civility at the edges of his mouth?
Caught amidst your fixation and investigations, you don't immediately grasp the next question which issues from it.
"Sorry, could you repeat that?"
There. Blink and you'd have missed the millisecond twitch to his corners this time, definite, but disappearing in a hummingbird flap.
"Azumi Kioka, it's a pretty stage name, more elegant than average. What was the inspiration behind it?"
You chuckle, "Oh, I have my folks to thank for that."
Nanami arches a single brow. You squirm beneath his scrutiny.
"Your parents are aware of your...employment?"
You blush at the misunderstanding.
"God, no. I mean - I just meant, that's my given name. Um. Yea, they have no idea. About my current...career path."
"Ah."
Nanami's single syllable weights a lull in your conversation, mutual understanding swaying back and forth between you and him like the silver orbs of a Newton's cradle, while something flickers in his irises, an autumnal roasting of chestnuts, embers splitting shells.
A universal inconvenience shared and acknowledged by every performer, regardless of their popularity, success, and experience - or lack thereof. It was oddly comforting in a way, this unspoken thing laying down slats between you and Nanami, bridging the skill and reputation gaps just that little closer.
He's the first to clear his throat. "Would you mind if I inquired how-"
"There are my stars! Oh excellent! The constellations have already collided!" A boisterous voice rings out, and an even more boisterous presence bounds up to Nanami's side, arm slung across him with cheerful abandon. It must be bonier or heavier than it looks, from the way Nanami's shoulders droop abruptly, a mountain slope sighing.
"Kioka-saaan! It's lovely to meet you! I'm so glad we could get you on such short notice!"
"To be honest, my schedule wasn't all that stuffed," you giggle, the eccentric man's energy is infectious.
"Oh, but you will be," he declares, dropping his dark shades to give you a wink before the bullet train babbles on.
"I guarantee it. You'll be in as much demand as Nanamin here, maybe more even."
You smile politely, "That's a lofty goal, Nanami-san is incredibly prolific after all."
The stranger hums, "Mmh, you're right. He's a real workhorse." He leans conspiratorially towards you, dropping his voice but barely by an octave. It's more a theatrical whisper than anything else.
"Hung like one too, but you didn't get that from me."
"Gojo-san, please don't make such unnecessarily crass statements," Nanami interjects tersely.
The white-haired man straightens up, waving a hand. "Ah, true, true. What's the point of hearsay, hm? Seeing is believing, after all! Oh, and feeling too, right Kioka-san?"
"W-well, it's what I came here to do today..." you pause, realising how reticent you sounded, inadvertently. Quickly you add, "Really, I'm looking forward to it - uh, not that it - I mean, I'm sure it's fine - o-or not just fine. I-um! I'm just glad to be working with you, Nanami-san!"
Nanami's lips tighten ever so slightly into a thin straight line as your spiel of mortification sputters to a stop.
Then he simply says, "Likewise."
You find yourself wishing for an earthquake, any magnitude would do - was it too much to ask the universe for a tiny harmless one that barely did any property damage? It would be preferable to the Richter scale internally screaming at you.
"Jeeeez, what's up with this atmosphere?" Gojo laments, tilting his head onto Nanami's broad shoulder. "I thought you two were having such a good time earlier, chatting each other up. Cute chemistry and all - what were you talking about anyway?"
"Gojo-san, it's an awful invasion of privacy to be eavesdropping on-"
"Oh loosen up, Nanami! I'm the director, I gotta observe how my cast interacts. Besides, you'll be invading every part of her privacy soon enough."
Your cheeks are trembling, crackling mantle, magma spilling across them, you're sure of it. Yes, it's how you put food on the table, but even though he was simply being factual, the straightforward lewdness of Gojo's statement made infernos writhe within you.
It's barely tempered by the chilling glare of disdain Nanami casts at his colleague, narrow-eyed, but it glances off Gojo who glibly continues, "Kioka-san! Tell me more about yourself. How many sets have you been on?"
"Ah...I stopped counting after 30...?"
"Only 30 plus? Kioka-san, that practically makes you a virgin by Nanami's standards!"
Your gaze is glued to your shoes, you've suddenly discovered an obsession with aglets - however did they thread such thick laces through tiny holes? You wince mentally as your brain makes the accidental allusion too quickly.
"Azumi-san." His voice is magnetic, you can't help but lift your head to seek out its owner's reassuring gaze.
"Please ignore those ridiculous comparisons. It doesn't matter to me how many projects you've been involved in. I would simply like you to be comfortable working with me."
"I hope for the same, Nanami-san." Gojo groans loudly, rolling his eyes, "What is this, a corporate function or some sort of sad civil servant mixer? Next thing I'll be saying is Get a room you two. Oh! Hang on! I actually did."
The director snaps his fingers, calling out for someone. A wardrobe assistant scurries over with two boxes, one under each arm. She passes them to you and Nanami with a swift bow before leaving.
"There's further instructions in each of your green rooms, but basically I'd like you both to help each other out with your outfits. Nothing too elaborate."
"We're supposed to...dress each other?" you clarify, eyebrows knitting together. "That seems a little counterintuitive," you chuckle.
"It's a 'team-bonding' exercise," Gojo grins, and you can hear the air-quotes practically enunciated by his wink. You suppose the director was inclined to a few eccentricities, if he was as innovative as his reputation in the industry made him out to be, so you don't protest.
"Go on then, down the hall, third doors on your respective left and right. I'll see yall again in about 15 minutes. Kento, you're familiar with this location, aren't ya? We'll be using the room on the 5th floor."
Nanami nods. "I'll guide her along later."
Gojo smirks, "Or maybe Ms. 30 Sets will show you a thing or two."
An irritated huff escapes Nanami as he turns away, gesturing for you to follow him to the changing rooms. You're grateful he seems focused on striding ahead, instead of noticing the refreshed scarlet awash on your countenance. The idea is absurd. What on earth could you possibly reveal to Nanami Kento?
...
"How many months has it been since you started out?" he inquires, once you're both out of Gojo's earshot. You're mildly surprised, you didn't take Nanami for the type to care for small talk.
"About 11. Oh, this would be the twelfth actually," you answer absently.
"Hm, I should congratulate you on the one year anniversary then."
The barely-there lilt to his comment stirs courage within you, or perhaps a flutter. It's hard to dissect, both feelings rising from your belly.
"Well, I couldn't ask for better company to celebrate it with."
Nanami stills, shrewd gaze sliding over his shoulder to sink its tenterhooks in you. It was insects in your intestines after all - but not butterflies. They must be grasshoppers, with how your stomach is performing somersaults.
"You could," he says simply. Then his lips twitch, discreet - unlike the surprise that soon follows, tucked away in the corners of his mouth, as if he hadn't anticipated his own smile, and was trying to conceal it from the source of its inspiration.
He jerks his head toward you, indicating a door you didn't realise you had already walked up to. You nod at Nanami, hands reaching for the handle.
"Azumi-san." He pauses, looking vaguely amused.
"Y-yea?"
"That's my room."
You finally tear your gaze away from those attractive features, reading their owner's name written in too large, obvious letters on the door.
"No rush, we'll be well-acquainted, soon enough," he echoes your earlier words, crossing over to your side of the corridor. The six-legged critters' flip even more frantically, spindly tibia tickling your walls, sprouting wings. You glance down at your fingers, still wrapped tight around the handle. The next words that tumble from you too rapidly, you know you'll be replaying in your mind like a slow-motion car crash for months to come.
"Oops, guess I'm a little too eager to get my hands on Nanami Kento's knob."
This time he full on freezes, like an icicle has stabbed him at the base of his spine. The rime of it refracts in his narrowed gaze, as if he's witnessing you in a new light. Then he's brushing past you to get into his room.
"Rather original, Azumi-san," he mutters, stepping across the threshold.
"However, you'd do well to remember..." Nanami briefly meets your gaze, eyes gleaming like a freshly waxed hardwood floor.
"In our line of work, we're paid to fuck - not flirt."
With that he snaps the door shut.
...
You clutched the box to your chest, willing your racing pulse not to make a marathon of this, while your mind sprinted ahead over the hurdles of Nanami's words, leaping to conclusions, or conjectures.
We're paid to fuck - not flirt.
He hadn't sounded irritated when he said that, albeit a little stern. Maybe he thought you weren't taking your work seriously enough. Well, ruminating on an offhanded statement like that was exactly the kind of distraction you didn't need right now. The best possible interpretation was to heed it as sensible advice, strange as it might sound to the layman.
Focus. Turn your thoughts off, and body on.
That shouldn't be a tall order, you muse, removing the lid off the box while letting your mind drift to your soon-to-be co-star. Chiseled bodies were par for the course around here, practically a requirement - unrealistic body standards be damned - but a face like Nanami's, now there was an unfair advantage.
For the majority of porn, arousal and anonymity went hand in hand, or fist over cock as it were - the absence of distinguishing features all the better for the audience to project their desires on, to immerse themselves in fever-pitch fantasies of lust. At most, there'd be a glimpse of a clenched jawline, the bob of an Adam's apple as actors swallowed their grunts in favour of their female partner's licentious, exaggerated moans. That was the standard, anyway.
The same one Nanami Kento had come along and shattered.
Handsome, in a severe kind of way - or just severely handsome. It was obvious, after meeting him, why both editors and cameras adored him, though they hadn't been able to do him justice; you'd been unprepared for all of it, how perfectly they complemented each other: the Alpine-edged cheekbones, the ski slope ridge of his nose, direct leading lines to those deep-set amber irises. You see now how the rumours could be true, that Nanami Kento could make any woman cum with a single thumb and his eyes doing all the devouring with an intensity matched only by his mouth, if he deigned to use it upon them. Yes, it would be a damned waste and a travesty to leave such an exquisitely sculpted face out of frame. The legions of his fanbase were constantly clamouring in the comments for more. It was impossible to ignore in any case, though some directors insisted on futile attempts to, to the detriment of their videos' reception.
You'd become smitten as well, seeking out his earliest works, your obsession voracious, consuming you as you gobbled up clip after clip of his, never sated. And now, he was here before you, in the flesh.
God, you hadn't even seen his cock yet.
A ripple of want thrums damp within you at this prospect and you savour it; it wasn't often your partners actually made you feel this way, those lube sponsorships really paid for themselves more often than not.
Speaking of which, you notice it's absent amongst the items in the box. Huh, Director Gojo must really have confidence in his top-tier star, you suppose that it wasn't unwarranted, with the pay scale Nanami Kento allegedly commanded.
You pull out the articles of clothing, wondering if they could provide clues to the context you'd be filming in. The skirt was simple, made of leather, ending mid-thigh. Not a trace of tan or tartan or bows in sight so, not a schoolgirl scene then. You sigh in relief, you'd always found those unbearably cheesy. The top you'd been provided didn't seem 'slutty' either, a collared blouse in cornflower blue. Something you could wear without being judged if you had a normal 9 to 5 desk job. Perhaps you were supposed to roleplay a secretary? But the standard pair of stilettos that would accompany such corporate caricatures of flouted fraternization rules was missing. In their place were surprisingly sensible stacked heel boots.
Even the lingerie you'd been assigned didn't seem particularly designed to titillate, more functional than fun. It wasn't even a push-up bra and barely had any frills; a black balconette with a little lace detailing along its cups.
The entire ensemble was modest, you'd go so far as to call it decent. Perhaps Gojo was going for irony.
There's a handwritten note from him on the back of a photograph indicating how the outfit should be styled.
'Kioka-san! Hope you find today's costume comfortable - for whatever brief duration you'll be wearing it, heheh. You may notice a couple extra things in this box that don't go with your wardrobe, please get them on their rightful owner, 'kay? Thanks!'
You can't help but smile to yourself, practically able to hear the director chirruping as if he were right in the room with you. You didn't have any inkling of his visionary talent yet, but it seemed he would be fun to work with, at the very least. You examine the remaining items in the box, a pair of suspenders and a navy blue silk tie. They were definitely meant for your co-star. A smaller dual-hinged leather box contains a wristwatch that both looked and felt expensive, the titanium bands chilling your fingers. You examine the clock face - you'd better hurry up and get changed soon.
...
You had just finished tucking your blouse into your skirt when you hear a double-tap knocked against the door.
"Come in!" you call out.
There's a slight creak of wood, then Nanami Kento emerges before you, looking...equally sensible. Oxford shoes, grey slacks, white button up; he's essentially wearing the uniform of a quintessential office worker, indistinguishable from any of the harried salarymen you've seen hurrying and scurrying on the metros during rush hours, except...except the fit on him is exquisite. The starched, stark white shirt maps the expanse of his sculpted torso; it's almost too understated, your eyes have no other option except to roam across every firm line and hard ridge of Nanami.
"I believe you have the rest of my outfit, as I have yours."
Nanami's voice snaps you of your visual field trip, right before your gaze can take a detour to another source of fixation, just below his zipper.
"Oh, yea. Yes." You reach blindly into the box, pulling out the tie first.
Nanami nods, putting down his own box on the table behind you. You wonder what else could be in there for you, your own attire seems fairly complete as it is.
You hold out the tie to Nanami but he steps toward you, backing you up against the table.
"What styles of ties are you familiar with?"
"Er, there are different styles?"
"Yes," he says patiently. "You do know at least a four-in-hand?"
You can't help but quip at his hint of condescension, "Well, honestly, I've never had to deal with anything smaller than a six in hand."
Nanami's face is as neutral as his tone. "That is not relevant information to this task."
"Just do it yourself then, if you're going to be so fussy," you retort, shaking the silky material at him.
Nanami's fingers suddenly encircle your wrist, the restraint of his strength sending a flutter through it. "Unfortunately, Director Gojo is quite pedantic about this ritual of his. Or rule, I should say."
You let out a small sigh. "Fine, I do know the most basic version. But it'll probably be so messy you'll have to re-do it yourself anyway."
You loop the tie around Nanami's neck, crossing its broader section over the narrower one.
"Why not just tell him we dressed each other up? Seems more efficient."
"He has an uncanny knack for knowing when his actors aren't following his instructions. Apparently it affects our chemistry from the very start."
"No kidding," you respond drily, continuing to wrap the material around itself. Nanami quirks a brow at your mild snark but doesn't say anything else.
"Is he this strict with his directing style too?" you inquire after a moment.
"No, fortunately. Or unfortunately."
"Unfortunately?"
Nanami sighs, "You'll find Gojo-san is rather...relaxed about things like schedule management. He insists his go-with-the-flow style is optimal for every scene, so his observations rarely translate into specific orders. This inconveniences both the cast and crew, who have to stay on set much longer than stipulated, or necessary."
"Wow, sounds like someone would make an ideal labour union leader."
Wryly, he replies, "I'd just appreciate it if my co-workers and I get off on time."
You grin at Nanami, "Way to put pressure on the both of us."
There's a flicker at the edge of Nanami's mouth, a rare indulgence of acknowledging your innuendo.
"My apologies. That was not my intention. I have no doubts about your capabilities."
Nanami's thumb brushes over your knuckles as your fist lingers around his tie. "I rather admire your work."
You feel a flush creep to your cheeks. "M-my work?"
Nanami makes a slight adjustment to the triangular knot.
"I won't have to re-do it."
"Oh. Oh good," you say awkwardly. Of course, it was unrealistic for you to hope a big name like Nanami would take notice of your meager offerings. You hadn't even discovered your niche yet.
"Glad I could make you resemble a corporate wage slave then?"
Nanami snorts. "I already am one."
"Well, not in the traditional, boring sense. At least it's not the type where you have to take your work home," you giggle.
Nanam's gaze narrows as it locks onto yours.
"You should know, I'm not the type to allow work to follow me home either, Azumi-san...Usually."
Nanami scans your face with its puzzled, polite smile. Despite all your double-entendres, you hadn't identified the implication in his caveat.
Nanami clears his throat. "The suspenders next?"
You remove them from the box, staring at the complexity of buckles.
You look up at Nanami. "These I really have zero clue about."
"The Y-shaped part of the harness goes behind, across my shoulders. Attach it through the belt loops."
Nanami turns his back toward you and you approach him, unclasping the burnished metal. You draw the black strap up along his spine, feeling it stiffen as your knuckles glide along his shoulder blades, the white fabric flexing beneath your touch. You imagine, despite this corded strength, sinews steely as electric cables carving up the sky, how his skin would yield to the scarlet stripes you'll rake there soon. And perhaps this vivid picture is encouraged by the slightest shudder that escapes Nanami when you smooth your palms past his pectorals, pulling the two front straps down to his hips.
"Thanks, I've got it," he murmurs. Was his breath hitched? Just before those buckles clipped into place? But then Nanami turns around and the question evaporates, replaced by a much more intriguing one.
Did you have a thing for suspenders now?
They accentuate his every line, strength and sensuality entwined in a braid that leads your gaze from the broad slope of his shoulders to the tapering of his hips, down to the seams of his pants ever so slightly snugger now, emphasising the curve of those muscled thighs.
"They're a little loose," Nanami remarks, tugging at one of the straps.
"I'll help adjust them," you say, with more immediacy than you intended. But Nanami simply straightens up, clasping his hands behind his back, waiting for you while you fiddle with the leather. You slip your pointer beneath the strap, knuckles grazing across the convex flex of Nanami's toned chest, catching for a scant moment on the stiffened point of his nub. His inhale is sharp and short, trapping your index between the strap and his puffed out pectorals.
Boldly, you pull your finger back, holding the band of the suspender taut before releasing it to snap satisfyingly against the swell of his chest, the sound crisp and loud. Nanami flinches, eyes flashing up to pin you, though his hand has already grabbed your wrist to avert any further mischief.
"Careful," his voice is husky, just shy of a growl. "It'll be your turn, soon enough."
"Yea?" you breathe out, meeting his smoldering gaze, "Show me what you've got, Nanami-san."
He makes a faintly amused tutting sound, reaching into the box.
"Black or red?"
You glance at the items in his hand, two frilly scraps of lace masquerading as thongs dangling from his fingers, their skimpy designs much more par for the course in your line of work. Identical. Cheap. Redundant.
"Black I suppose," you sigh, settling against the table as Nanami crouches before you, warm palms gliding from your ankle up your calves. You slowly pull the hem of your skirt past your hips, revealing your skin inch by inch before Nanami's focused eyes.
"Wait," he whispers, sounding so different, hushed and mesmerized that you freeze, fingers curled tight around the edges of your skirt.
"Is there something wrong?"
"You arrived on set with this?" he asks, thumb stroking your sides, where the fabric of your white cotton panties flares out against the swell of your hips.
"Well, yea. They're nothing special," you mumble, squirming, uncomfortable before the unwarranted intensity of Nanami's gaze. You try to clamp your legs shut to block it out, but his heated hands land on your inner thighs, broad fingers squeezing around the plush fat of them, encouraging you to keep your legs parted for him.
"Do you mind...if I ask, how long you've worn it for?" And here his attention is finally averted, gaze dropping slightly to settle on your knees, voice low.
So, Nanami's a pervert...when the occasion demands it, you think, privately amused at this revelation.
"Ever since my shower last evening. I slept in them and er, kinda woke up late so...Sorry."
"Don't apologise."
You suspect you see Nanami take a short sharp inhale at your answer, as if simultaneously startled and satisfied by it. Or perhaps, by your scent? Before you can dwell on either possibility for too long, you feel a warm palm curve around your hip, the first joint of his index dipping past your waistband.
"Keep these on," Nanami hums, rocking back on his heels, admiring the view from a little distance. You wonder if he's spied the damp patch rapidly developing along the centre of your cotton creases.
"But - but the costume?"
Nanami tosses the excuses for underwear back in the box. "You look better in these. Natural," he comments offhandedly.
You suck in a shaky breath at his explanation, delivered careless and ruthless all at once. "It doesn't m-match though. And um, what about Director Gojo's instructions?"
You have to bite your lip as Nanami's thumb traces idle patterns up your inner thigh, gliding arduously close to their apex - grazing just out of reach of your folds. He hums contemplatively, and you swear you feel your flesh quiver as the sound thrums heavily in his throat.
"Ignore them, just this once."
"I- I don't want to make a bad first impression..."
"I promise I won't get you into any trouble, that you won't like."
This time you can't contain your squeak as Nanami inclines his head, resting it in your lap, straw strands tickling your thighs lightly.
"Hey."
You gaze flickers from his hitherto busy hands to his face, expression expectant yet gentle.
"Break a rule or two for me, would you? I know we just met, but can you do that for me?"
You're mesmerized by those eyes, maple brown and brimming with a promise of mischief, so you nod mutely.
"Good girl."
Blink and you've missed it, the peck Nanami drops to your thighs as he stands, but your body is far more sensitive than your eyes are sharp. You can at least trust the tremors slithering up your spine, lingering after the ghost of Nanami's lips.
"Well, I suppose some of his suggestions aren't awful," Nanami comments, reaching back into the box.
"Silk or nylon?"
This time he holds out separate pairs of stockings, both black, though one looks more opaque.
"Do you have a preference, Nanami-san?" He shrugs, indifferent, folding his arms.
"Well, let's see," you muse, locking your ankles together and swinging them over the edge of the table. "Nylon does rip more easily..."
Your gaze drifts to the tendons in Nanami's crossed forearms, only lightly flexed but taut with the clear assurance that both materials could hardly prove to be obstacles to him.
His voice rumbles, dispersing your reverie. "Which feels more comfortable for you?"
"Oh, silk for sure then." You can't help the small smile tugging at the corner of your lips at Nanami's considerate question. Or at how he's on his knees before you again, this time having gently pulled your ankles apart, resting one of them on his broad shoulder.
He gathers the hosiery between his digits, surprisingly dexterous, practiced almost. You wonder how many actresses have been in your position, if all them had an equal appreciation for how Nanami's fingers molded to the arch of their heels, grip firm yet tender as the silk whispers over wriggling toes, gliding up calves, his hands deftly turning to tug them across your thighs and hips.
You wonder if Nanami's taken this much time with all of them, been so deliberate with the many others who came before you, warmth of his palms maneuvering to smooth out the stocking's wrinkles between your thighs, feeling the firm knife-edge of his hand press into the sensitive flesh there, ridges of his knuckles skimming your clothed folds.
"All right then, all dolled up," Nanami remarks, drawing back to survey the final outfit he's assembled. He hums, pleased with his handiwork, as he should be; Your pussy is already a sopping mess.
"T-thank you, Nanami-san," you stutter, sliding off the table, attempting to regain your composure. Nothing had happened, so why did being clothed by Nanami feel more sensuous than having your seams ripped apart by any other guy? If you had to guess, you'd attribute most of the blame to those eyes, sharply tracking your every minute movement and flaying each inch of fabric from you, undressed by his gaze even while his hands acted in direct contrast to his apparent intentions.
"Just one last thing," you say, retrieving the watch and taking Nanami's hand. Carefully you lock the clasps around him, stealing a second to admire the thick sinews of his wrist.
You glance from the clockface to its wearer's intent expression.
"We're late, we should go," you mumble, but Nanami tugs you lightly by the wrist.
"Hang on, I've gotta accesorize you too. Turn around for me."
You oblige, spotting Nanami lift a necklace from a smaller case from the corner of your eye. For a moment, he holds it up between his thumbs for you to see, a thin gold chain, delicate and with a single initial dangling from its centre; the letter K.
Wordlessly, you gather your hair up, exposing your neck to Nanami.
You feel him step closer, shivering slightly when the chain loops around you, the cold pendant grazing your clavicle. You choose instead to focus on Nanami's breath, steady puffs of warmth lightly tickling your nape, stirring something within you. Then, almost suddenly, you feel his fingers brush against your throat, dipping briefly past your collar as he adjusts the necklace. If Nanami notices the almost imperceptible shudder that floats through you, he makes no observation or comment on it.
"There." He says simply instead, turning you around to give you a once over. Your let your gaze rove over Nanami's handsome appearance too, smiling at him.
"Thanks. You look nice, by the way."
Nanami nods. "As do you."
"Shame we have to ruin them," you grin, opening the door. Nanami is close behind you, so close in fact, you feel his heat radiating against the small of your back as you move down the hallway together.
"Hm, occupational hazards," he huffs, corner of his mouth curving upwards briefly. You glance at him with a brow arched, pleasantly surprised at his maiden attempt at humour.
But then his voice drops low, mouth brushing against the shell of your ear.
"As a professional courtesy, I trust you'll do your best to make a mess of me too, Azumi-san."
...
"You two sure took your time. Don't tell me you got started without the cameras rolling? Tsk tsk!"
"Apologies Gojo-san, for being all of three minutes behind schedule," Nanami deadpans.
"Exactly! You're always bugging me about punctuality so I'm trying to make a genuine, concerted effort ya know? Plus I gave you a watch."
"Then I trust Azumi-san and I will be knocking off promptly at 7pm."
"Why? You two made plans or something? And didn't invite me? Meanies!" Gojo pouts.
You giggle, "Gojo-san,c'mon! You should be proud of yourself instead. That would mean your 'team-bonding exercise' worked way better than you could have ever anticipated!"
The director slides his shades down the bridge of his nose, eyes narrowing in mock scrutiny as they dart from you to Nanami.
"Hmm, well if there is something going on here, you gotta tell me. Cause I'm your boss. And nosy. And the one-man HR department," he quips.
Drily Nanami responds, "There is no HR department. You won't even hire a script supervisor. That's why we always overrun."
Gojo blows a raspberry in his general direction. "Again with your timekeeping addiction! You're gonna offend Azumi-san like that. It's as if you can't wait to quit working with her."
Something about Nanami's exasperated sigh tempts you into pushing his buttons further.
"Aww man," you whine, "did I do a week's worth of Kegel exercises in vain?"
The look Nanami shoots you is priceless as Gojo guffaws raucously.
"Oh man, I might have to employ you as a scriptwriter next time, Azumi-san!" he titters.
You grin at him. "Thanks for the offer Gojo-san, but I do kinda like my current job which...we really should get around to."
"Fine, fine. That's enough foreplay hm? Come on then."
Gojo opens the door to a cosy, sparsely decorated room. A couple of paintings adorn the sandstone-washed walls, hanging above a couch with a low backrest. Adjacent to it is an armchair, upholstered in dark blue. An ochre carpet, some throw pillows and a round coffee table add accents of colour to the otherwise minimally furnished set.
It rather resembled a home office, you guessed.
"So," Gojo pipes up, "either of ya ever been in therapy?"
"No."
"Yes," you nod, glancing briefly at Nanami.
Gojo beams, guiding you to sit on the sofa while gesturing for your co-star to take the armchair.
"Great, we'll be relying on your expertise then, Azumi-san. Though Nanami will be playing the part of your therapist today, Dr Morie Taru. Your sex therapist, to be specific."
"My single session was years ago, I'm no expert. And they weren't a sex therapist."
Gojo waves his hand breezily, "No matter, I'm sure your lived experiences will inform your performance one way or the other. Now, Azumi-san, if I may be so direct, have ya ever had any obstacles when it comes to orgasms?"
"Oh." You felt caught off guard by the bluntness of Gojo's inquiry, surprised at how sensitive you were to it despite being a porn actress
"It's all right, Azumi-san. This industry takes it toll, everyone has their off days." You lift your head towards the sound of Nanami's baritone assurance, meeting his soothing gaze, and lingering there.
"Sure, sure. That sounds comforting coming from him, til ya realise Nanamin here is one of the industry's top record holders for Consecutive Climaxes in a Single Scene," Gojo scoffs cheerfully, ruining the moment. "That's one of the reasons he was recognised, ya know? Goes for hours. The studios get a real bang for their buck."
The snort escapes you before you can even think to stop it. There's flint in the quizzical glance Nanami casts in your direction, sparks scraping across your cheeks.
"S-sorry. Well um, then I guess...naturally I'm curious about the - the number? If you don't mind sharing, that is," you add quickly.
Nanami shrugs, as if attempting to alleviate an answer weighted by repetition, delivered with monotony and burdened by boredom.
"My record? Four times," he sighs, reclining against his seat. "I just got lucky."
"Well, it sounds like your scene partner certainly did," you grin at him.
"Heh, she was a little annoyed actually." You hear a snicker at your side.
"Nanamin was being such a hypocrite that day, despite his principles on punctuality. Making Ms. Saiua late for her high school reunion dinner, or whatever it was."
"I...it saved us from having to do a second day of shooting," comes Nanami's terse rejoinder. You look at him as he sounds a little uncertain, mollified even, since the first time you heard him speak. There's the slightest hint of pink dusted across Nanami's nose bridge and his head is angled to the side. It's an adorable shade on him.
"Sure, whatever you say, Mr Considerate. Still can't believe you sent Saiua-san a bouquet after that. She could have gotten the wrong idea, ya know."
"I was very clear in my note what I was apologizing for. We're on decent terms, as you're well aware of. Otherwise I'd be blacklisted from her productions."
"Gojo-san, would this happen to be Ms Kagome Saiua? Of Kagome Kissed Films?"
"Yep, she retired from acting a while back. Started her own agency and everything. Nanami's worked with several of their talents too."
"Then...Gojo-san, you directed the video where Nanami, um, set his record?"
"Gosh, no. This was years back. I was just a young, naive assistant then. Nanamin was just getting notorious too."
"I believe the word you intended to use is Established."
"Would it happen to be the Hot Professor Punishes His Pupil for Cheating On Geography Pop Quiz video?"
There's a moment of silence as both men consider how casually you had rattled off the convoluted title, so conveniently recalled.
"I-it's one of Nanami-san's most famous ones," you hedge, embarrassed. "Record setting, right?"
Gojo chuckles, "Exactly. Although nowadays Nanami takes more pride in making his partners set those records, hm?"
"It's what the audiences prefer," Nanami responds a little stiffly.
Gojo nods. "It's true, times have changed. Viewers don't wanna see characters as cumdump caricatures anymore. It's more about quality than quantity."
You smile, "Well, as they say, Youth is a gourmand when it cannot be a gourmet."
Gojo whistles. "Azumi-san, you sure you have zero aspirations to be a scriptwriter?"
"Nah, fairly sure I just stole that quote from an Instagram account."
"Hm, well speaking of eating," Gojo's grin is cat-like, "it'll be Nanami's treat today. Or, you will be."
"Oh-okay," you say shyly, fiddling with the hem of your skirt, barely able to conceal your excitement. You'd be able to find out if the rumours were true...
"And then we'll finish with a facial," Gojo elaborates. "Standard stuff."
"Is that all the instruction we're getting?" You inquire, bewildered.
"I agree with Azumi-san, at least provide us with a bit more context."
"Hm, I'm not the type of director to be prescriptive with backstories, but let's say the two of you are several sessions in. So at this point, the client's conversation style with Dr Morie should be comfortable. You trust him. Maybe a little too much, eh?" Gojo winks at you.
"I'm going to need a few more details. Any pointers on dialogue?"
"As her therapist you should ask about patterns of behaviour, what's worked for her before, what hasn't. Perhaps, past partners..." Gojo pauses, glancing at you before smiling, slow and sly.
"At that point, you can get creative Azumi-san. Feel free to use the opportunity to make something up, or draw from the disappointment of any dalliances. You could even air your grievances about your ex's."
"Gojo-san, that's crossing a line. You can't expect her to dredge up her personal life cause you were too lazy to craft a proper plot."
"Plus, I don't want to slander anyone. Not that I've dated so many people," you confess.
"Mh, you've boned loads though, right? Since joining the industry?"
"It's...enough for us to have something to talk about," you feel fuchsia creep over your cheeks again at the prospect of discussing such private matters, especially with an actor as experienced as Nanami.
Your blush blossoms into begonias when you sense a warm, calloused hand sliding over your palm, patting it.
"Don't worry, you can keep those you have complaints about anonymous. I was a rookie too once, made my share of mistakes. Probably wouldn't have made it to where I am without actors as kind as you, willing to give second chances. You're right about discretion."
"Aww, but audiences crave Authenticity,' Gojo starts to whine.
Nanami cuts him off. "You're confusing that with scandals, or sensationalising. We are not naming names, for Azumi-san's sake."
You squeeze Nanami's hand gratefully, and his thumb brushes over your knuckles just once before it slips away.
Gojo huffs, folding his arms. "Fine, that's all preamble anyway. I'm planning to leave most of it on the cutting room floor. Anyway," he sits up.
"For the main gist of the discussion, eventually I want you to cover her habits, her proclivities. Her preferences, essentially. Then from there, the client's going to get worked up enough for her to be amenable, shall we say, when Dr Morie requests a demonstration."
"So that's the segue into sex you came up with?"
"You don't seem impressed, Nanamin."
"That's because nothing about the premise strikes me as particularly impressive, or inventive."
You intervene before any bickering breaks out. "Gojo-san, it sounds like you want us to ad-lib most of this, right?"
"Bingo."
"What's the mood supposed to be like?"
Gojo taps his chin. "Let's go with seductive, yet subtle for your part. Innocent charms and all that. On the therapist's end...well, Nanami, you'll make a valiant effort to be professional, won't you?"
"I always do."
The director rocks to his feet with a stretch. "Knew I could count on you. Any final questions, Azumi-san?"
You shake your head. "I'll figure it out. It's just like having a chat, right? Granted, with a psychiatrist who wants to screw me."
"Exactly."
...
One deep breath. Two knocks on the door. A three second pause.
"Enter."
"Hi, Dr Morie."
"Azumi-san. Please, have a seat."
You settle onto the sofa.
"How are you?"
"Oh, you know. The usual."
"Hm, then can I assume your agenda for visiting me today is to address the same problem from before?"
You smile at Nanami as he checks a clipboard, fishing out a pen.
"Trust me, I wish it were just a social call but yea, I still don't have a fix for that...issue of mine."
"Have you done anything different in your approach to the matter? It's been a while since we've spoken."
"I took on one of your suggestions, to create those opportunities for myself and not be intimidated by them, to follow through. And I've had several encounters. The latest being two nights ago. But none of them have been satisfactory, which is becoming...typical."
"That is unfortunate." Your therapist jots something down. "However, I believe your willingness to make these attempts can be classified as progress."
You slump further into the couch. "It doesn't feel like progress."
"Previously, we've touched on your tendency of regarding these experiences in a rather results-oriented manner. Have you given any thought to what I said about focusing on the moment, on yourself or your partners?"
"Yea, they seem to be enjoying themselves enough, at my expense."
"Well, I don't see any reason why they wouldn't be able to, with your involvement."
Your eyes flick up to Nanami, but the compliment, if it was one, is obscured behind his cordial phrasing, as was the twitch of his lips, with the pen pressed to his mouth, set in a firmer line than before.
Compensatory, almost.
You play along. "Doctor, that sounds rather more an assumption than an observation. Or worse, a personal stance. One you're not quite in the position to...verify."
This time he doesn't hide his smirk. "No, I don't suppose there is a way for me to corroborate that, is there?"
Nanami's good, you think, Razor sharp.
"Not if you want to continue wresting a portion of my paycheck from me."
He doesn't miss a beat on the banter.
"Not a significant portion. I understand you're covered by a quite generous insurance policy. But as you said - regrettably, this isn't a social call, so I suppose I must earn my keep. Now," Nanami leans back, twirling the pen between his long fingers, "Tell me how your partners' pleasures made you feel? Specifically, the height of them, if you don't mind disclosing that."
You take a moment to consider his question before replying.
"Envy, chiefly."
"Envy." Nanami echoes, as a prompt for you to elaborate.
"Yea. Like, I've put in all this effort and it's not - it's not -" Your coherence tapers off into a vauge hand gesture.
"Reciprocated?" Nanami offers carefully.
"No, no it is. They do try. But it's...ineffectual. Enthusiasm isn't enough to guarantee results."
"I'm aware."
There is something infinitely more titillating in the slight curve of Nanami's mouth than the feverish thrusts of tongues, dozens of them, that flash across your mind's eye. His mere insinuation, more suspenseful and sensuous than the memory of laboured licks and exaggerated slurps. Subconsciously, your thighs shift against each other. At least one person in the room notices.
You focus on your fingers, twiddling them in your lap.
"Most nights now, I don't think going out and meeting someone is worth the hassle," you sigh.
"At least when I'm solo, even if I'm frustrated, I can rely on falling asleep straight away - instead of having awkward conversations and goodbyes."
"Do you feel less...constrained when it's an independent endeavour? Less pressured?"
"Yes."
"Do you take more time with yourself?"
You nod slowly. Your therapist shifts forward.
"Do you have a routine?"
"W-why do you need to know about that?" you stammer.
"If we can identify the specific steps or elements where you feel arousal most acutely, we may be able to build on them to achieve greater satisfaction, for you."
You have to admit Nanami's making it sound all quite logical, and plausible.
"I guess...my first parts of the process are fairly standard. Relaxing bath, scented candles, all that jazz. Then..." you hesitate, wondering whether you should draw upon personal experience, as Gojo had suggested. Well, why not? You could always deny it later.
"Then I seek out some material to whet the imagination."
"What medium is this material?"
"Videos, mostly."
Nanami nods, making a note.
"What sort of scenarios do you find most stimulating, Azumi-san?"
"It's not so much about the concept for me. I prefer to focus on the... energy, the chemistry between the performers."
Inspiration flashes through your mind when you see Nanami sit up at your last word.
"Although, there is one guy whose effect on me is quite...consistent."
"Go on."
"In the video of his that I watched most recently, his role was...let me recall..."
You feel a sensation of weight doubled upon your mouth; first, your thumb perched on your lower lip, parting it slightly and secondly, Nanami's gaze settling over it.
"He was a teacher, punishing his student for cheating on a test. What was the subject now? Oh, it was something to do with...volcanoes."
Your eyes meet Nanami's gleaming, tawny gaze; a flicker of understanding passing between you. He knows precisely the video you're referring to.
"What aspects do you enjoy about this actor's performance?"he asks, tone a little lower than before.
"I can't quite put my finger on it. I don't know what it is about him exactly, that makes it so believable. Perhaps it's his...patience."
Nanami says nothing, and you're tricked into filling the silence.
"In most other porn I've seen - quite a reliable sample size if I'm being honest - " This earns you a slight tilt from Nanami's mouth.
"They're always rushing to get to the fucking. The lewd stuff. Ironically, it's stripped of lust - like they expect it all to come from the viewer's end, which, horny as I am, I do appreciate some build-up."
You lean backwards, stretching against the sofa and propping one hand behind your head, chest pushed out slightly. Not far away, Nanami re-positions himself as well, crossing his legs swiftly. But it's too late, you've already glimpsed his impetus for doing so. You bite your lip, marveling at the extent to which his motivation has already swelled, from your few sentences.
"But I don't feel that way with this actor." You close your eyes, allowing the memories to unspool across your mind. "Apart from his gorgeous body...Every line of his, every pause, every purse of his lips...is imbued with intent, with deliberation. With desire."
"And then the tension, god," you whisper, fingers drifting to your collar, fiddling with the buttons. Despite your shut eyes, you feel Nanami's gaze track your hands and their coquettish contemplations.
"Not just between him and his partner of course, but within him. Struggling to stay responsible, the pretense of professionalism, some internal discipline to maintain that impression of being a kind educator, or a decent officer, or...a noble therapist."
Your eyes flutter open in time to glimpse Nanami palming his cock, hands abruptly dragged back to settle on his knee. But he can't quite drop his mask of impassivity over his expression as quickly, betrayed by the ravenousness smouldering in his eyes, if not by the rasp of his next instruction, which comes out more like a command.
"Tell me more about this actor you adore."
"Did I say adore, Doctor?" you smirk, tilting your chin at him.
"Not so succinctly," he hums, "but it is abundantly evident, from your descriptions. Does he...does he occur to you, beyond his repertoire?"
"If you mean to ask if I've been using my imagination to...supplement the sensations he inspires then...Yes."
Nanami's grip tightens against his slacks, very much a misnomer by now. The seams seem to strain painfully, and you stare openly at them, in awe of Nanami's restraint.
For how much longer? you wonder.
You decide to give him a little push. "In fact lately, I much prefer the things my mind makes up for him. In my dreams, there is no rush, no limits on time...or ethics. Just us."
"And is that enough, your dreams? To resolve your situation?"
He sounds hoarse. Your gaze roves over Nanami, from his face, flushed and with brows furrowed, to his ruffled attire. Tie loose and slacks tight.
"No, of course not. I want the real thing."
"Azumi-san."
Your eyes snap up from the tent in Nanami's pants.
"There is actually something I could recommend to address your predicament, your inability to climax."
"What is it, Doctor?" Nanami smiles at the faintest lilt of mockery as you use the title, an indication of your mutual awareness that this charade is hanging on by a thread.
"Do you trust me, Azumi-san?"
"Of course."
"This treatment, or potential solution is rather radical you see. I may be chastised by my peers for even suggesting it."
You take a deep breath. "No one understands my situation like you Doctor. You know I've become quite..."
Your thighs part, skirt riding up. "...Desperate."
Nanami's Adam's apple bobs as he swallows deceit.
"I'd like to remind you of the Doctor-Patient confidentiality clause we have in effect," Nanami says calmly, beginning to roll up his sleeves.
"Anything you tell me, or that happens between us, here in this room, stays between us."
You smirk, without revealing your teeth, but there's fangs in it.
"And tell me Doctor, precisely how will I benefit from this privilege?"
"For a start, I would like you to...touch yourself."
"In your presence?" your breath hitches as the prospect of satisfaction finally glimmers into view with Nanami's request.
"Yes, there are certain...observations I'd like to make."
"Hm..." You don't provide any further protest or excuse, tired of this ruse. Your fingers make quick work of your buttons, curling with slightly more hesitance around the hem of your skirt.
"You can close your eyes, if it helps," you hear Nanami murmur, sweet and low encouragement.
"I...I want you to watch," you whisper, palms delving over the plush of your cleavage, a sharp squeeze liberating more stutters from your chest, "t-to feel watched..."
"I am." His hunger is all the more unbearably apparent behind the simply worded assurance, sight stalking and predatory as he follows fingers dipping beneath the waistband of your white cotton panties.
"What happens in your fantasies with m- with the actor?"
Blood floods your cheeks at Nanami's slight slip-up, or perhaps it's the relief from your pussy finally having something to clamp around. Your hole is so sodden two digits slip in easily, three knuckles deep.
"He- he shreds his facade for m-me." Scarlet swathes saturate into crimson at your confession, and the way you've pinched your clit, rolling it roughly between your fingers. Distantly you're aware of laboured breaths and the hiss of a zip, but you're far more occupied by the whimpers and squelches spilling from both sets of your lips.
"He doesn't have to pretend to be patient or nice or kind with me. I, I let him lose control, let him use me. Any way he wants to."
"Any way?"
You're suddenly aware of a presence looming over you, Nanami's powerful thighs bracketing your trembling ones, a muscled forearm caging you in against the couch, the other flexing intermittently with slow languid strokes to his cock.
"Please," you beg, leaning forward to press your tongue to the pearlescent drop beading at his tip.
"A-ah, that's- s'posed to be last," Nanami groans, jerking away, but he doesn't resist you trailing a smirk along his shaft, or your fingers cupping his sack, squeezing lightly.
"Break a rule or two for me, would you?" you grin as Nanami groans, his words returning to haunt him, your lips ghosting against his slit. It seems both of you forget, or forego, your abilities to speak when you mold your mouth around Nanami's cockhead, suckling gently.
Grunts escape him, in lieu of coherence, but the command is just as clear. You seal your lips tighter around Nanami, throat constricting as he slides another inch or two deeper down your gullet. You're hypnotised by his overwhelming musk as he starts to thrust - small, urgent snaps of his hips, determined to shove his entire length within you despite the crescents you carve against his thighs. Your eyes widen at the recognition of two things; you've severely overestimated yourself, and when you hear Nanami moan again - an approximation of your name.
It's beautiful and broken, you never expected Nanami to make such pretty sounds. But you realise you should have when you glance up, his gorgeous countenance perfect for conducting such a symphony. The column of his neck flushing dusty pink arching up to his cheeks, as if scattered with hibiscus pollen, golden locks haloing around him, lush gilding of an afternoon's summer sun swearing an oath to ripen the earth.
Abruptly his hands tangle in the roots of your hair, tugging harshly. The fierceness of Nanami's grip is only matched by your will to relax your throat, for him to use you as he needs, fucking into you with abandon. You choke around him but the sounds only spur him on, panting, reckless, ruthless, thrust after thrust after thrust - Nanami only remembers to reclaim his vocal chords at the very final moment, husky from disuse, the warning ridden on the ridge of a bow seesawing across a shattering oboe:
"C-cumming!"
You gasp for oxygen but only Nanami's thick, hot seed splurts down your throat, your cranium clutched tight in his massive hands so you have no choice but to swallow, wringing out every last salty drop.
He pulls away with a filthy pop, cock still twitching and flushed red. Your body is wracked with coughs, heaving in tandem with the man whose pounding chest you feel against your fingertips. Teary-eyed, saline blurred, his face is a vague outline, expression unreadable. But there is no mistaking the tenderness of his touch when he brushes a thumb along your lips, paired with a bruising kiss that disregards the bitterness of his own residuals.
You sink into the collision of your mouths, unaware of the sounds of ripping fabric due to Nanami's needling nips along your lips, arousal prickling up your spine once more.
Your assumption had been right; those nylon stockings didn't stand a chance. Yet, for some reason, he seems more merciful towards your underwear, cotton creasing beneath the heel of his hand as Nanami grinds it against your clit, to mill moans and winnow whimpers between your clenched teeth.
"Got carried away back there," he mutters, scattering apologies along your torso as he settles between your knees. "I'll make it up to you."
Nanami buries his nose against your covered folds, the material soaked and made sheer by your desperation. He peels it off, taking a deep whiff before pocketing them smugly. Stunned by the intimacy of his discrete theft, your legs clamp shut on instinct.
Nanami tuts disapprovingly, wrenching them apart too easily.
"Don't be acting all shy now, Azumi-san. It was your idea to break the rules, and do this out of order." Nanami hooks his arms beneath your thighs, dragging you forward to meet his tongue, laving a stripe up the center of your cunt. He groans appreciatively at the taste, beginning his assault in earnest.
Amidst the wet, lavish sounds and your whimpers, you barely hear him mutter, "Afterall, I plan to finish with a facial, one way or another."
~~~
A/N: So, totally fell victim to the backstory, I just find the idea of how a guy like Nanami would situate himself in an industry like that quite an intriguing challenge. I suspect he's a tad OOC here.
There was going to be a much bigger romance subplot but I ran out of time! I would definitely want to re-write/return to this AU in the future though, maybe post it on AO3 someday. But I hope yall found this amusing to read at least!
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yikimiki · 20 hours ago
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Ceo!Toji that loves to spoil his princess rotten. Never says no when you ask to buy some new clothes, helps you pick the prettiest dresses and the sexiest lingerie. Takes you in expensive vacations to places that you can’t even pronounce, to dinners with the richest executives in the country (just so he can make them jealous). Toji doesn’t rest until his princess is happy, allows you to ride his cock until you’re dizzy, fills you up with his babies because he knows that’s what you want. He just loves you so much :(
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renaissansse · 15 hours ago
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oh, to feel choso’s bulge rubbing your thighs, him not realising it - when you innocently drop in his lap and he can’t keep his hands to himself - trying to steady you by touching your waist and make you sit comfortably, while creating a hard position for himself and feeling him getting harder and harder by the minute, his breath getting laboured and ragged and him shifting again and again so that you don’t feel his erection, red in the face, hands clammy, when instead all you want to do is press your ass harder and ride his clothed cock until you both moan each other’s name, staining your pristine clothes.
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hours-of-eros · a day ago
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— About Getō Suguru, choking kink
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« I wanna try it your way this time. »
She said. It almost sounded like a whisper to him. His right hand found its way to her neck. Slowly. Long fingers pressed her sensitive skin and a light whimper escaped her throat. So fragile he thought. Her lips were half opened, ready to be eaten.
« Are you sure ? »
She didn’t respond. Her eyes said it all.
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mitsuyaya · a day ago
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Clan head Maki! who's too invested on getting you pregnant so she could finally have an heir. Fucking you anytime of the day, making sure to cum deep inside you, never leaving your sweet pussy so she could make sure that nothing spills.
Clan head Maki! who loves it when you eat her out during meetings. Lapping up her folds, sucking her clit, while she grinds down on your tongue. Keeping her stern and assertive expression all throughout the meeting, throwing a glare when someone dares to look at your naked figure.
Clan head Maki! who spends all her money on you. Buying you all the most expensive lingeries, making you model it in front of her but eventually ripping it off of you when she can't control herself anymore.
Clan head Maki! who couldn't be anymore grateful when you came into her life. The only person in this forsaken palace that she treasures and loves the most <3
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suget · a day ago
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DO YOU WANT IT?┊GOJO SATORU
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˚ ୧ WORD COUNT : 0.8k
˚ ୧ INCLUDES : humiliation, degradation (use of the word 'slut'), enemies who fuck, oral (f → m), hair pulling (m → f), choking, spit, petnames, dirty talk, face slapping (with his dick)
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"You want it?" Kneeling in the middle of the stronger one's legs, he questions you in a mocking tone as if the answer wasn't obvious. You are quick to shake your head up and down along with a brief flutter of your eyelashes. Your mouth parts just a couple of inches to invite him to slide the dripping tip into the middle of your lips and your eyes search his behind that blindfold.
"I don't think I heard you. I said, do you want it, slut? Tell Satoru exactly what you need."
Not what you want but what you need. Your palms on his strong thighs turn into weak fists that hold all your frustration like a glass box about to explode, the fabric of his uniform pants crumpling beyond belief with your strength. I hate you, you don't know how much I hate you; you repeat yourself over and over again. His condescending attitude, his jokes that aren't funny and that lopsided smile he always has when he gets his way.
"I want..."
I need you to fuck off, you want to yell at him.
"Yeah?" he inquires, mimicking the vibrations in your tone of voice.
Idiot.
"I want your cock in my mouth."
Satoru clicks his tongue and shakes his head slightly. "Where are the manners? I think I've taught you better. Where's the 'please, daddy'?"
"Fuck you," you sputter, avoiding focusing on the twitching cock under your nose.
You try to get up because you've had enough, your flat palms push against his thighs to free yourself from the cage that is his long legs however, the albino is much quicker and catches the hair on the back of your neck with a couple of fingers forcing you to kneel again and hold you where you are. With little effort, he pulls your head back until he manages to make your gaze connect with his covered eyes.
"Why don't you fuck me, uh?" As soon as he finishes speaking abruptly he slides inside you with a jerk, pulling through the prison of your lips until the cockhead meets the tight ring of your throat; your nails bury into his skin as Satoru pushes back against you again abusing your brushed cavity.
The grip on your hair tightens to start using your mouth with better precision, he slides in and out of you using your mouth like a simple fleshlight, the squelches his hard cock makes as it slides in and out of you make him grunt in desperation, he needs more— he always does when it comes to you. Like a fucking drug.
Satoru releases you just to let you breathe..., one, two, three seconds before he grabs your neck now, his thumb and middle finger squeezing the flow of blood running down the sides of your neck. You try to blink several times to focus better on the man in front of you but the opaque cloud of tears covering your eyes barely allows you to see his countenance.
The wet cock wanders across your aching lips, dragging the saliva under them until it makes a mess that slides down your chin and stains a couple of droplets on the top of your uniform. Great.
He tsks. "I love how you always talk shit and always end up this same way," Satoru pauses to lean closer to you, searching your unfocused pupils. "I'm starting to think you're a masochist, sweetheart..." —He goes silent again, the hand around your neck moving to press a pair of fingers to your cheeks until your lips pout— "Or is it that you like being abused by the stronger? Used for my own satisfaction, knowing you're my favorite slut."
With that, without giving you time to formulate a venomous response with which to reproach him, he lets go of your cheeks to smack them with his heavy cock— the situation makes you chew on one of your broken whimpers and tilt your head further forward, letting yourself be carried away by his words like a sailor to a mermaid's song.
You see him tense his jaw and spit on the length quivering under your gaze, precum sliding from the slit of the tip in a clear trickle that becomes unrecognizable as it merges with his own drool and the pretty pink head screaming to be sucked. Gojo spreads his legs further apart, an invitation for you to come closer, a sign that he's tired of playing cat and mouse with you; only if you were more submissive he wouldn't have to expend so much energy.
With his arms splayed on either side of the back of the blue couch, he says, "Now hurry up and make me cum, we need to get back to that meeting... unless you want them to come and get us, of course."
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© suget — all rights reserved. please do not copy, translate or repost my work. don't share it on tiktok.
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