Your Last Dime // K. Nahoya

your last dime // k. nahoya

notes. i don’t have a daddy kink but some characters…… oh and this ended up being a little soft. iffy about the smut but what else is new

wc. 6.7k

cw. fem! sushi chef! reader. one sided rivalry, one-sided pining, light bickering, rough sex, finger sucking, semi-public sex, daddy kink, degradation, condescending praise. descriptions of food. bitch used as degradation

summary. you hate nahoya with a passion and he has no idea why. you both were agreeable when you first met, but then you started ignoring him, which is a shame because he thinks you’re pretty

tagging. @touyasghosty thank you for hosting such a sexy collab! ‘m smooching your brain <3 @kazuwhora @ryuugot @bxnten thank you for beta reading <333 @messxworld @tokyoredlightdistrict & @shibuyawardnetwork

Nahoya doesn’t know what stick is up your ass, but you can be annoying as fuck and bitchy. He hasn’t even known you long enough to receive this loathing you have over him.

You moved into the old leasing space next to their shop two weeks ago. Him and Souya brought a welcome basket and introduced themselves. The both of you had an okay meeting, a handshake and pleasantries were exchanged, and nothing grating could have happened to rub you the wrong way, but somehow something did, and Nahoya has no idea what that is.

Every time your eyes land on his pink curls, they twitch. A glance at his curved lids, and your jaw locks. His smile causes a set of brows to knit together and crease. His heavier footsteps compared to Souya’s careful gait makes your shoulders tense. You hear him laugh and your eyes narrow into slits. You look at him like he’s a pile of dirty dishes and he fucking hates it.

But you only treat him this way.

Not Souya. No, never Souya. He gets none of your fury. He gets treated like an angel instead. Charming smile, cute teeth, twinkling eyes, and an even sweeter tone of voice that slides out of your throat like honey when you greet him.

While Nahoya gets your cold, aloof back, left out of the conversation like a third wheel, standing stupidly behind Souya as the both of you have delightful chatter and he stares longingly at you.

Nahoya didn’t hate you at first. He thought you were cute even. Heavy lashes that fluttered gently, soft, pink lips that rose to a lovely smile, bright eyes that looked at him so clearly he got lost in them for a second before the dulcet chime of his name snapped him out of his reverie and made his heart skip a beat.

You looked like Aphrodite incarnate. But you turned into Medusa in a matter of time and cast your hate on him as if he were Poseidon, and Nahoya truly has no idea why.

As he gazes at your glowing form, eyes that were once kind to him directed at his brother now, a giggle bubbling in your chest that makes your body tremor, his finger on the front counter taps into the wood faster, more harshly.

Nahoya decides that he won’t get held up by you anymore. If that’s how you wanna play, then fine. He’ll join your little game.

You’re dead to him too.

—

Well that was the plan at least.

It’s ironic, funny, and a little annoying all in one how the universe decides to spite him. The both of you are in a room stock full of ingredients. He came here to take storage, and you were asked by Souya to get him some more onions.

It would be laughable. If only the door didn’t slam shut with just a slight breeze of the wind. If only the click of the lock didn’t echo in the empty space and alarm you both. The old wood is too weak to hold itself open, and the knob doesn’t turn as it should. That was something Souya has been nagging him to look into, and he’s paying for his negligence here.

How fucking hilarious.

Nahoya can’t help the little snicker that leaves his mouth, and you whip your head to him, zooming in on that insufferable grin. “Don’t fuckin’ chuckle. This is your fault. Souya said the storage room door needed to be fixed, but you’ve been sitting on your ass. Not doing a damn thing.”

It’s always ‘Souya this, Souya that.’ Nahoya really can’t stop the chuckles that break from his chest.

“Take some fucking responsibility for your actions!”

Shaking his head and wiping some tears from the corner of his eyes, Nahoya calmly tells you, “Relax. Screaming won’t do any good if we’re still stuck in here, doll.”

Your teeth grind at the pet name, and you don’t listen, you just want more time to lash out.

You turn, walking up to him, steps heavy the closer you get until you’re finally in his face. A sharp, pointed finger pokes at his chest with each word that leaves your mouth.

“And I said, that this was your fault. We wouldn’t be in here, or trapped for that matter, if you actually fixed the damn door.” The glare you throw at him is vicious, eyebrows knit together, lids narrowed and sharp as a cat’s.

There’s a fire burning in your eyes that makes dark, dark pupils glow. Nahoya can see himself in them again just like at your first encounter, and it’s been so long since he was able to glance into your eyes head-on like this—it’s been so long since he’s had your undivided attention—that his stomach churns and his heart quickens.

He’s always found you, even more so your eyes, pretty. They’re genuine, clear, attentive to whoever's caught their fancy.

Then you raise your head higher, and they catch onto the light. It makes your irises shine and glaze over in a way that reminds Nahoya of freshly painted pottery pieces fresh out of a kiln.

“What?” You tilt your head to the side in confusion, brows lowering in that endearing way people do when they are utterly clueless, and your eyes soften, glaze over a touch more.

The gesture is so cute that Nahoya’s stomach bubbles over with arousal, and his pants are starting to feel a little tight.

He opens his mouth to talk, but you sigh and cross your arms over your chest. “Well?” and his mouth doesn’t move again because your forearms are pushing your soft tits up.

Instead he gulps the pool of saliva in his mouth like a lesser man, and his eyes trail up from your chest until it lands on your soft, glossy lips that are in a pout already.

Shit, he wants to kiss you.

Your eyes scrunch more when you realize he isn’t looking at you anymore. No, his eyes are too low, and there’s a hazy sheen to them that makes goosebumps trickle along your skin.

What is he looking at? Do you have something on your face? Your mouth? Your cheeks?

In the next few seconds, his eyes dart up to yours and a shiver wracks your spine. Their intensity makes you feel small. So, so small and meek. As if you aren’t around the same height anymore, like he’s towering over you—as if you’re being hunted.

He looks like he wants something.

Why does it feel like he’s on the verge of taking it whether you like it or not, that you have to coil your muscles and put your guard up?

His hand slowly moves. It brushes your cheek, and you’re so surprised by the motion that you flinch back, but his hand stops right there.

“Tell me to stop if you don’t want to.” It stays frozen, his voice a low, calm rumble.

You consider the current state of things. Nahoya’s shift in demeanor, the growing tension between you two that’s starting to make your stomach tingle, and the thick air hanging heavy in the room. It spreads to every nook and cranny, and invades your mind.

Nahoya inches closer before he’s back to brushing against your cheek, finally cupping it. You move in, transfixed by the gentle hold of his hand. It’s so faint, so warm that your heart races and your breathing slows with the serene touch. When you inhale, a whiff of crisp cologne invades your senses, and it’s addicting how nice it smells. You feel a little hazy as Nahoya traces his thumb over your lips, the gloss smudges a little around the plump edges.

Then he moves that same hand to the back of your head and pulls you in, slowly still.

Your lips touch softly, and a buzz starts at your mouth and travels throughout your body, raking down your fingers and toes, traveling through bones and tissue.

The thing about kissing Nahoya is that he’s not gentle at all, despite the soft way he reeled you in. He bumps his mouth against yours, sucks your tongue, bites your lips, and traces his tongue around for pleasure. Completely rough and wanton, and he fights for dominance. His tongue is merciless as he tastes all of you, like he can’t get enough. The pink muscle licks and prods over the same areas over and over again, his hand tilts your head slightly to get more access, to get down your throat.

Now there’s a fog entering your mind, making it fuzzy, and you completely forget your argument earlier as your legs grow weak.

It gets thrown out the window when his other hand traces down your back and squeezes at your ass. A tiny moan squeaks out of your mouth and your hands grip onto his work uniform. The hand behind your head moves lower when he feels your kiss get rougher. Jackpot.

They’re both playing with the supple flesh of your ass as you keen into his mouth. It feels so good, it’s starting to be the only thing you care about right now.

More. You want more, and Nahoya gives you exactly that as his knee presses between your legs.

They wobble when his hands move to your hips to slide them against his thigh, and the friction is so heavenly, your clit rubs against your panties from under your skirt, the gush of your slick so loud and sloppy that Nahoya groans and you buck your hips, cumming within the next few seconds.

The hands on his shirt claw into the rustling fabric, and he feels you shake, feels your pussy flutter even through the thin barrier of your panties as his pants get soaked in your juices.

“Fuck, doll.” His pant leg is soaked to the calf. He lets your mouth go to see you lean back and pant heavy breaths of air leaving your swollen, red lips.

You look really good right now, eyebrows knit, hazy eyes, shaky legs, heaving chest, panties a slippery mess, and Nahoya’s dick twitches imagining how it’d feel to sink his dick into your gummy walls—to see you creaming on him.

But first, he wants to feel your little hole wrapped around his fingers.

Bringing his hand down to your panties, he pushes them down, sliding two digits into your pulsing, squelchy hole, you start to squirm right away. Especially when he pushes the flat of his palm right against your sensitive nub so it rubs the tiny thing while he swirls his fingers.

“You’re a mess down here.” He hums.

You tremble and lean forwards, hands clawing at his wrist as you sob, “Nahoya, it‘s sensitive. ‘s too soon.” But all you do is push him closer to your sweet spot this way, and when his fingers get there, he grinds them against you, scraping your walls with the nubs of his fingertips.

Your pussy drools sticky cum, throbbing again. He knows you’re close, but he slides them out and steps back. With shaky legs, you gaze up at him full of want, disappointment. Confused on why he stopped.

His hands fumble with his pants, and your eyes bulge out of their sockets. You gape when his fat dick springs out, oozing a string of precum down the shaft.

Fuck he’s big.

He aligns the fat mushroom tip against your small hole, it flutters against the large, blunt head. His precum beads against your soft, pink folds.

“Nahoya, ‘s not gonna fit.” You’re whining, but your hands grasp his length, eager to test his girth, test how thick he is towards the base that both of your hands can’t fit around; your walls pulse at the discovery.

“I’ll just do the tip. Promise.”

Your lips purse for a second before you remove your hands. “Okay.”

He rubs your clit with the pad of his thumb as a little reward and you keen. He finally pushes in. The stretch is a little painful at first, but the drag of his cock against your velvety walls makes your toes curl, and Nahoya’s thumb still rubbing circles into your clit makes your hips buck.

“Nahoya, put it in. I want the whole thing.” He twitches at your words and groans, but he obliges. God, you’re so fucking greedy already. Slowly, he makes his way inside, one centimeter at a time.

By the halfway mark, your juices froth and bubble around the edges of his shaft, and his thumb rubs faster. The band of pleasure in your tummy is getting tighter, makes your cunt tingle and pulse.

Nahoya’s stomach is getting tight with pleasure too and his dick is twitching a fast tempo. You feel so warm and mushy, walls trapping and sucking his cock.

He can’t help how he pushes more of his shaft into soft, velvety walls. His dick feels like it’s gonna melt, and his head nearly lolls at the heavenly feeling of your cunt, pillowy folds parting for him.

“Wait. Nahoya. Wait. Wait wait wa-”

The knob starts to rattle, and you both freeze.

“Huh? Must be locked again.” A knock echoes through the room. “Is anyone inside?”

“Souya!”

The knob rattles harder and his voice sounds closer. “Were you in here this whole time? I’ve been looking everywhere for you.”

“Yeah, the door closed on us.”

“Us?”

“Nahoya’s in here too.”

“He is? Okay hang tight. I’m getting the keys.” Souya’s footsteps fade off.

Nahoya’s dick twitches. He wants to keep going despite the lack of time and Souya being on his way to finding you two like this.

He promises that he can get you to cum once, maybe twice before Souya’s back. It doesn't even matter to him if he cums, he just wants to feel your gummy walls clamp on him, feel you cream on his cock, sticky juices oozing out of your twitchy hole.

And he can do all of that for you, he just needs to ram his dick in, the full length of it, tilt his hips and swivel them around so it hits all of your sweet spots, and rub your clit for good measure.

If he doesn’t stop the first time you cum, he promises he can make you cum a second time within seconds, and make you squirt.

He can make you feel so good, if you just let him.

His heart races, dick pulsing madly in your cunt, stomach drawing taut with pleasure at the image of you creaming all over his cock. Eyes rolled back, mouth parted open to expose your pink tongue sticking out, and most of all, your pretty pussy oozing out milky cum down his shaft while transparent slick gushes onto his stomach.

Shit, the image alone is enough to make him cum. But you push him back and out of you, and Nahoya’s stomach plummets straight into a dark void.

You fix and tidy yourself up the best you can, which is remarkable because you actually look like you weren’t just fucking. Dusting off your shirt and skirt, pulling your panties back up, moving strands of your hair back to its original place, and rubbing your lips together to set your lip gloss again. Then you turn your gaze on him, cock hard, twitching and exposed as he stands there stupidly gaping at you.

It’s cold again, your eyes are narrowed into slits, and they’re dull with indifference. How can someone’s arousal, desire, emotions just flip like that?

“You should hide that or take care of it. Souya will be back soon.”

Nahoya shuts his mouth, lips folding over in discontent for a second before he’s hurriedly pulling up his pants and boxers until they’re on again, dick tucked into his waistband because it’s not settling down.

His lips move—

“Okay! I got them. Just give me a second.” But Souya comes barreling into the door and it rattles again as he fiddles with the lock.

You move right up to the frame and wait.

Within seconds, light shines in the dim room and the door creaks open. Opening up your arms, you hug Souya and slump your body on his, breathing out a sigh.

He looks a little confused as he rubs your back. “What were you both doing in here?”

You don’t give him an answer, pulling back and grasping his hand.

“…Huh?” you walk out with him in tow, and by the swish of your skirt does Nahoya see your sticky slick plastered between your thighs.

It still runs when you turn the corner, and the sight has Nahoya’s dick throbbing and his stomach burning, but his heart is icy and a little dull.

He gets left behind once again.

And see, from that day on, you have been running through his mind like a fucking pop song.

Nahoya tries to get on your good side, tries to understand why you hate him in the first place. He really does, but you don’t make it any easier.

Now, when he puts in effort, you ignore him more strongly. You don’t even spare him a glance or acknowledge his presence when he’s in the room.

When he comes over, you busy yourself with the customers, or practice your knife skills and prepare your lunch or dinner menu. Whenever you come over, you head straight for Souya, even when Nahoya greets you at the front.

It stings a little having you completely ignore him. He thought you got a little closer in the storage room, but no, things went back to the way they were earlier, but worse.

It’s almost like that incident didn’t even happen in the first place.

And despite all of that, he hates that he can’t hate you. He hates that he can’t get you out of his mind. He hates that he’s the only one hung up on your relationship, trying to make it better so you can go back to being on speaking terms.

He still gets hard when he thinks about that day, and his heart still beats furiously in his chest when he sees you. Especially when you’re focused on preparing your menu, or sharpening your sushi and sashimi knives.

The way you so elegantly handle them, or the poise that you have when you arrange your sushi platters.

Just like now.

He came over to talk, only to get ignored again, so he took a seat at your sushi bar to watch you prepare. This has become his new favorite interest now. When he watches you, he can tell you love doing this, your job.

Experienced hands quickly slide your knives, each and every one of them, against the knife sharpener. The shiing of metal against metal echoes in the quiet restaurant, and there’s a beautiful, shiny glint to your knives.

You must clean them really well.

Knives are easy to rust and dull after some use, Nahoya knows first hand. Restaurants depend on their kitchen and utensils. If a chef doesn’t take good care of their instruments, then they’re not an actual one in the first place. Chefs who love their job and the food they make don’t skip over any corners.

There’s a little tradition and legacy he guesses when it concerns managing a restaurant and cooking food. That is something he can see right now, while you’re prepping.

You have a little routine.

Your knives get sharpened first and foremost. You place them one by one in a line from smallest to biggest gently, making sure they don’t clack or clink onto the wooden bar; making sure that you don’t just drop them down.

“Why do you sharpen your knives first? Wouldn’t it be easier to get all of your ingredients together, so you don’t have to run around for them later?”

You paused at the last knife you were about to set down, turning it this way and that. Then your eyes softened and your grip on the handle changed into one of a gentle cradle.

“My mentor told me that knives are like an Itamae’s soul. We should cherish them for the joy they give to us and our customers.” You ran a finger over a flat side of the blade. “They’re why our cuisine is beautiful, why our ingredients can be gracefully cut and sliced, why we can perform our skills. Because sushi making is an art just as much as it is food, and I think other types of cuisine are more forms of art.”

Then your eyes darted up to Nahoya. The bright sheen and the light quiver of them intoxicating. Excited. Thrilled. That’s how you feel talking about your food, your art. And Nahoya can understand the sentiment. That warm, mushy feeling in his heart when a customer slurps down his and Souya’s ramen is unmatched to any other feeling he’s had.

(Well, except for the fluttering of his heart when he first met you.)

“Don’t you feel that way with your ramen? How your customers get happier after eating your food? The work you put into crafting each bowl?”

Nahoya’s hands twitch on the bar, and his stomach erupts into butterflies, where they fly up to his heart and the tiny thing flutters. Yeah, you really do love what you’re doing. If you can put your dislike aside to talk about your craft with him, then you must enjoy it dearly. And if you can share that joy with Nahoya, then you must really like cooking.

Nahoya likes that. How you both have the same passion over food. He could spend an eternity at your side talking with you about it.

(And maybe he should.)

“Yeah, it is.”

A small quirk of your lips, and a crinkle of your eyes as dark pupils sparkle over with tiny dots of stars make their way onto your face, and Nahoya’s heart stutters in on itself.

“Then you know what I’m talking about.”

His mouth parts open a sliver and his fingers buzz. They want to reach up—out towards you.

Nahoya wants—

“Nahoya! We need to get the shop ready.” Souya peeks his head in from the entrance.

His heart drops again, having to put a stop to this conversation, having to put a stop to his moment with you.

He stares into your bright, bright eyes a second more before he stands up and makes his way out, suppressing the urge to turn around to take one more glance at you as he hears your feet shuffle around your kitchen.

—

After that day, you start talking little by little with him more.

When he greets you from the front counter, you return it. When he wants to join your conversations with Souya, you let him. You slowly warm up to Nahoya, and when he visits your shop while it’s closed and he’s free, you don’t shoo him out or ignore his presence any longer.

He’s been happier these days. Talking with you is fun, he gets a serotonin boost when you have conversations, and they’re about all kinds of things. Like what types of food you like, your favorite ingredients or dishes, ideas for new menus. When the conversation turns away from food, you talk about your other hobbies and interests.

It’s wonderful. Nahoya yearned for days like these to come about under the stew of his mutual hatred to you, and ever since they have, he’s been on cloud nine—top of the world. Maybe he can start asking you out, or at least drop some obvious hints. He’s been subtle about his feelings, but they’re not taking effect.

This is why he’s at your shop once again, watching as you align sashimi along your cutting board.

Nahoya’s heart thrums in his chest at the almost thrillful glint of your eyes as you prepare sashimi. He knows that feeling. He gets the same way when he arrives to the shop early with Souya to think up a special.

Nimble fingers cradle a roll of sashimi as your knife skillfully cuts them into thin strips. Deft digits arrange sushi platters full of rice, avocado, seafood, radishes, and other ingredients next.

You have pretty hands.

The nails are cut short and buffed down, and the skin of your hands look smooth and soft, maybe a little rough from all the knife handling, but it’s nothing Nahoya can’t handle.

They’d probably look equally as pretty wrapped around his dick. He wants to feel your nails scratch marks on his back. He wants them gripping crescents into his skin. God, he wants you again. He misses the tight squeeze of your cunt and the warm cradle of your gummy walls.

He has been plagued with visions of you writhing and whining on his cock every night since that incident, and he can feel his pants tightening as you compress and slide your hands up and down a thick roll of sushi. It looks too meaty to be considered just rice, seafood, and radishes.

“Nahoya, why are you here again?”

His eyes snap up to you. “Why can’t I? There something wrong with me being here? Am I distracting you?”

You sigh before placing the roll down and picking up your sushi knife, hand gripped tight on the handle while the other curls over the sushi. “Not at all.”

Nahoya hums. “Good.”

The sound of your knife cutting clean through the rolls before clacking into the wooden board echo throughout the shop. He takes a glance around, really looks at the interior.

“Your parents must be proud of you.” They must be because there’s a homely, cozy feel to the shop.

It was a simple compliment. An off the hand remark with positive connotations.

But you didn’t take it that way.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” You stand up straight from your slightly hunched over form. “Am I not qualified enough to be called a sushi chef?”

Your eyes feel cold on him, just like they were that day. “Do you think my parents payed for all this?”

Nahoya’s blood runs cold and his heart plummets from the clouds. He doesn’t know what landmine he just triggered, but he meant nothing bad by it.

“Tell me, Nahoya. What do you mean by that?” Your arms cross over your chest, resting above your uniform, and your head tilts in challenge. “I’m waiting.”

His heart spikes and his hands clench. “I meant that your parents must be proud of how much you’ve accomplished.”

He stares into your eyes with genuine honesty, but you only click your tongue and sneer. “Fuck you.”

You storm off into the back. Nahoya has half a mind following after you, pushing open the door to slip inside before you have the chance to close it.

The door clicks shut. He doesn’t lock the door, but he does stand in front of it.

“I don’t know what impression I gave off to make you mad at me, but that wasn’t my intention.”

You scoff, “Yeah. Sure.”

His teeth bite down and his jaw feels tight. “Why are you mad at me anyway?”

“Wouldn’t you like to know.”

Nahoya’s eyebrows knit together. “Yeah, I would.”

“Well that’s something for me to decide, and I think…” you mock the notion of tapping your chin in thought. “No.”

Anger rises in his blood. “God, why are you such a fucking bitch.”

“I don’t know, Nahoya. Why are you such a fucking asshole.”

“For what? I didn’t do a fucking thing to you.”

“Yes, you did. You’re just an idiot for not knowing.”

“Then tell me what it is.”

“No, that’s something you should reflect on. Wrack your tiny, little pea brain all you can for it. I’m pretty sure even you can come up with something.” Your venomous tone drips mock pity, and it’s getting to him.

“I can’t reflect on something I don’t know what I did.”

“Well that’s too bad then.” Your lips pout and lower in a frown, but your eyes are beady with loathing. “Guess you’ll never know.”

His anger starts to boil over, chest thudding and heart twisting with the ugly fury that encompasses him, but despite that, as he watches your eyes harden into a glare and narrow, he finds his dick twitching in his pants.

You’re such a bitch, but you’re so fucking sexy when you’re mad. It’s the same reason he couldn’t fully hate you before, he just wanted to fuck you every time you yelled at him or narrowed your eyes in a cold stare.

The glare you’re giving him right now makes his head spin. The aloof, detached look on your face makes lust pool in his stomach. He wants to fuck you. Nahoya wants to fuck you stupid, fuck you into a blabbering, sobbing mess—fuck the attitude straight outta you.

He nearly groans with the image his mind provides for him.

“Well? Cat got your tongue?” He does groan with the sharp edge laced to your voice.

“No, you got my fuckin’ tongue.”

Your mouth drops a peep, brows scrunching in confusion, and Nahoya takes that chance to reel you in.

He smacks his lips into yours, nibbling and sucking on the plump flesh. He feels you shiver, hands clutching at his shirt, pulling him in closer, and he groans.

His hands are desperate rubbing up your sides, your back, down to your ass where he cups them and kneads the doughy flesh. He pulls down your pants and goes back to your ass. Soft skin molds under his touch and he gives it a smack, you moan into the kiss, biting at his lips that makes him groan deep in his chest.

He rubs and squeezes the voluptuous skin, sliding his hand down to where your thighs meet your ass, pressing two fingers inside the fat of your inner thighs, brushing against your plush folds. They’re wet, soaking, and a squelch resounds when his knuckle nudges against it.

You have a thong on. Fuck.

Nahoya pulls back. “Soaking wet. And after all that yapping earlier. Course a bitch like you got excited.”

You moan and squeeze your thighs together.

Nahoya smirks. “Yeah, a slut indeed.”

He pulls your panties down, trailing his fingers over your drooling slit, thumb catching onto your clit where he swatches it back and forth. Your knees tremble and your hands clutch his shirt tighter.

“N- Nahoya.”

His fingers stop, and your hips twitch from the loss of feeling. “Try calling me something else.”

“Sir?”

Nahoya stays quiet as half-lidded eyes stare into yours, dark and brimming with lust. His smile tilts up just a smidge. “Not quite.”

Your mouth parts open, pupils dilating, voice wobbling as you say, “D… daddy.”

Nahoya plunges two fingers inside your pulsing hole, and you have to lean on him, lest you stumble. His voice sounds deep and rich against your ear. “That’s good, princess.”

You shiver a little more strongly this time, your walls flutter on his scissoring fingers, and more creamy slick drips down his fingers.

“No one’s made you call them daddy before?”

Your shoulders twitch from hearing the word alone, and Nahoya’s dick jumps, imagining what you’d sound like moaning it, whimpering the name, or whining for him.

You look down and shake your head, hair falling around you, casting a shadow over your face, slightly hiding it from view.

“See, I don’t get that. You look fuckin’ adorable saying it for me.”

Your pussy throbs.

“You like that, doll? Like it when daddy’s fingers are inside of you. Like it when you call me daddy?” burying your head into his shoulder, you nod.

His fingers work into you faster, brushing against that one spot that has you seeing stars, thumb circling against your clit. Your eyebrows knit together, forehead scrunching, dulcet voice whimpering, “Daddy daddy daddy.” Before you’re cumming, fingers clawing at his shirt, body trembling against his.

Obscene drops of cum plop onto the floor, glide like thick molasses down his hand, and your walls clamp on his fingers so tight that he can only imagine how your tiny cunt would take all of him.

While you catch your breath and recover, Nahoya works on his belt. Everything is leading up to that day in the storage room, and he couldn’t be any more thrilled. But it’s while he’s stroking his dick, fat cockhead resting against your twitching hole that he remembers something.

“Ah shit. I don’t have condoms on me.”

You push your hips against his. The tip sinks in a smidge and the feeling of your gummy walls cradling just his tip is enough to make him shiver, eyes rolling in his head.

“Oh fuck.”

“Put it in me, daddy. ‘m on the pill.” And you latch your arms around his shoulders.

“Well, fuck. You got that, princess.” He slowly pushes the rest of him inside, and when he bottoms out at the hilt, he groans. You’re so tight, hole stretched out and twitching around his shaft.

Ah, fuck. He reaches an arm back and switches the lock on the door.

Nahoya starts slow, sliding himself out then back in. His tip kisses your cervix with each stroke, cockhead nudging against your sweet spot. Your cunt squeezes him with each stroke out, wanton over the loss of his dick. The shaft gleams with your cum, coated in the shiny slick, and it only provides more lube for him to slide back inside.

Like this a slow and deep pace forms. Drops of slick slide down his shaft and wet his balls that slap into the globes of your ass. Your hips buck up and grind with each thrust to the hilt. Your cunt pulses when his cock throbs, and you’re so fucking tight, velvety walls hugging him with such a grip that it makes his stomach tighten, band of pleasure stretched taut.

You bring a hand down to your clit and rub circles into it, eyes rolled to the top of your head, drool peeking out the corners of your lips.

Pretty soon your juices have his pelvis soaked, loud squelches and smacks of your pussy lips hitting his hips, and after a few more strokes, you come undone.

Your cunt clamps down on him as creamy slick seeps out around the ring his shaft, walls fluttering trying to milk him dry, but Nahoya doesn’t want to cum yet. Not until he feels you squirt, so when you remove your hand, he replaces it with his thumb, rubbing your puffy clit further, pace quickening to the point he’s rutting into you.

You squeal, “Stop! ‘s too much.” And tug at his hair which only makes him groan, stomach and balls tightening. Your body convulses, hole spasming as your eyes roll back, tongue slipping out the expanse of your mouth.

Your cunt squeezes Nahoya’s cock in a vice grip. He pulses once more before his balls snap up and ropes of white paint your walls, his finger never stops on your taut nub, and you gush slick all over his abdomen.

By the time you come down from your second orgasm, Drops of your cum drip from Nahoya’s stomach, soft lines of his abs soaked with your slick, and fat droplets of thick sperm ooze from around your hole, plopping onto the floor and staining it with the mess of your other fluids.

Nahoya and you both catch your breath, his knees are shaky and your legs are trembling, turned into jelly, but his dick twitches when you squeeze down on him.

“Fuck. Watch it, princess.” But you don’t stop clamping down on him, and he groans, hips bucking into yours from how your gummy walls hug his sensitive cock, pulsing and throbbing, sucking him in like a vacuum, as if he hasn’t already emptied his load into you.

“You’re a fucking vixen, do you know that?” His hands grip your hips tight, rolling them in circles and grinding figure-eights into his, but your puffy clit throbs in wanting.

“Tell me why you were so mad at me.”

Your lips pout and fold over, and your eyebrows furrow. A minute passes before you step back, pulling your cunt away from him. “You said I was probably a spoiled rich girl.”

Nahoya pauses. “I never said that.”

Your mouth purses and anger rises in your chest. “Yes, you did, Nahoya! Don’t lie. You thought I was some rich girl that learned how to make sushi for fun, didn’t you? That I wasn’t taking my job seriously. Even though I’ve been busting my ass with my own hard-earned money trying to run everything.”

Your voice breaks off into sobs, and you turn your back on him, trying to hide yourself, but he’s being reminded of the bitter memories of your cold back. Only this time, it’s trembling and shaking, small and hunched in, not straight and tall and confident like he’s seen.

“Just because my parents are a little well-off doesn’t mean I’m spoiled. I’m working hard for my dreams too. Don’t discredit my efforts for my parents' social standing.”

Nahoya wracks his mind, searching through his past conversations. When did he ever discredit your cooking skills? He’s only thought good things about you.

“Nahoya, she’s at it again.”

“What?”

“Our cousin. She begged 10k off Uncle. Said she wanted to start up a restaurant.”

“But she’s never taken classes, or has any knowledge in business management. What a fucking spoiled brat. That’s what she is.”

Oh.

Nahoya remembers that conversation. He also remembers how the door creaked open a bit before closing, the bell chiming which distracted them both.

They thought a customer arrived or was hesitant on entering, so he went outside to check, but no one was there. He also remembers how cold your stare turned when you came in later and shifted your eyes to him, the edges red and puffy.

That must have been you at the door, and you must have overheard them and misunderstood. The pieces are starting to click together.

So this was all just a big misunderstanding.

He leans over your shoulder to peek into your face, but your arms cover you from view.

He kisses his teeth. “Can I talk to ya, doll? I think you got a misunderstanding.”

“nhm.” You shake your head and bury your face further into the cradle of your inner elbow.

“Doll, let me just talk to ya for a little.” He reaches a hand towards you, but you slap him away.

Nahoya doesn’t budge. His mouth parts open, tongue trailing along his teeth. He wonders if he has to force you to listen because you’re being a fucking brat right now. A childish one who won’t have a proper conversation. Instead, hiding yourself away to lick at your wounds.

He grabs a fistful of hair and yanks you up to see your mascara ruined and fat droplets of tears sliding down your puffy cheeks, eyes hazy and feverish.

His dick rises to full mast.

“You kiddin’ me? You got upset over something as small as that? You ignored me over somethin’ so stupid? I wasn’t talking about you that day, I was talking to Souya about our cousin.”

“Your cousin?”

“Yeah, our fucking spoiled cousin who begs her parents for money to do stupid shit she doesn’t commit herself to.”

Your mouth opens and closes for a few seconds before you take a deep breath, eyes softening into regret. “‘m-”

His grip on your hair gets a little tighter. “That wasn’t very nice, doll.” But he lets go.

Placing his hand on your shoulder, he turns you back to him. That same hand roams to your cheek, brushing against it before his thumb strokes the delicate skin.

Your eyes shift again, full of arousal. You look at him so prettily, pupils dilated and shining, mouth parted open a sliver. All doe-eyed and precious as his thumb ghosts to a corner of your lips, rubbing the plump flesh.

Then it slides inside your warm mouth, and you can taste yourself. This was the same hand he fingered you with. “Do you hate daddy now, princess?”

“Nuh-uh.” And your cute little fucked out head shakes before you start sucking on his fingers, transfixed with the soft yet dominating handle.

Nahoya’s breath hitches and his dick pulses. Fuck. You’re so fucking cute.

He’s gonna ruin you. Wreck your cunt, mold your walls to his dick, whatever it is so you can keep being like this the whole night. He’ll fuck you silly.

FOOTNOTES

itamae means “in front of the board” and it is also the title used for a sushi chef.

nahoya didn’t know this but you looked at him all starry-eyed too during that first meeting. souya saw all of this and wondered when the two of you would patch things up.

he found out when he came over, just as the two of you left your back room, clothes and hair rustled, nahoya’s shirt was on backwards, your uniform was buttoned up unevenly, you were breathless, and your lips were swollen red.

souya teased nahoya about it the whole night, but he didn’t care bc the both of you called each other before you fell asleep and ended up talking for hours.

souya had trouble sleeping that night bc of your giggling, Nahoya’s chuckling, and your excited chatter.

taglist. @festive i’m going back n tagging ppl on my taglist form so let me know if you wanna be taken off viva! i feel like you’re not interested in tr anymore but rather genshin or twisted wonderland 🥲 @thevillagehiddenintheinternet @ray-lol

i just think… haitani rindou has squishy, mochi cheeks. don’t ask me why but i just know they’re soft and squishy that ran would always annoy the heck out of rin by pinching and pulling it whenever he’s bored cause they’re irresistible and a great stress reliever ƪ(˘⌣˘)ʃ

This is me everyday 😩🥰

The day I started posting about #tokyo revengers was the best day of my life.

Me: I love rewatching Bleach for the quality content. Love to feel the nostalgia.

Also me: Omg the nostalgia! 😍 *drools over the nostalgia, sorry i mean, Urahara, Aizen, Byakuya or Ukitake whenever they appear on the screen*

Ngl, i just wanna post q headcannon of how i see Tokyo Rev characters playing dominoes

Mess Note: This is purely fiction, i have no intention of misunderstanding the Greek Mythology. Also, this talks bout: Forbidden love, selfishness, cursing, blessings and other stuffs. This is lowkey angst but nothing bad. Plus, my awful grammar and writting skills 🤢.

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Cursed Love

- "Cupid, remember that you're here to help others to find love. You're forbidden to find a partner for yourself" - Eros says to the young and naive Cupid, she looks down to the Earth each and everytime just to search for that special human who keeps her cheeks bright and wanting to do overtime, searching more lovey couples to match just to use this as an excuse to see his pretty eyes again. - "Why you're always on my back? I'm just searching for more couples to match... - She just tilts her head, legs crossed while she keeps searching for him, yes that male that she saw under the beautiful stars, she swore that maybe if Eros could give her the chance to see him up close. Eros is a selfish asshole that would never give her the chance to look at the pretty human and less, to fall inlove - Cupid...- He sighs, exhausted because is too obvious for everyone in the Olympus that the pretty and naive young Cupid has laid eyes on a human - Love is a the most enigmatic power, love can create wars but also bring peace - He walks towards her, approaching her and sitting right next to her, contemplating the young human male that has Cupid so immersed in going daily, no hourly to the same spots on the Earth. He keeps saying - Love can heal but also, hurt and make you bleed. - He touches her shoulder and she looks back at him, losing the focus on the human that made her curiosity spark up like fireworks, she tries to protest and defend that this isn't nothing but just plain curiosity over the young male. Eros just shush her and keeps talking - Love can be a blessing for the humans but, for you My Dearest Cupid... Love is your worst nightmare, a curse you have to avoid. - The naive Cupid gains energy to answer, taking his old hands into hers while looking at him in the eyes - You're overreacting, i'm just looking forward to see more about how this human will find his soulmate... Is just curiosity after all. Nothing to worry about - He shakes his head, letting himself go of her hands while standing up. He finalizes the conversation with the senteces that will destroy Cupid's brain just few weeks after - Mark my words, once you fall inlove with that weak human... You'll know why Cupids should never fall inlove - He stands after he pats her head, leaving her dazzled and confused. She still thinks that this is just pure curiosity over the humans. She knows she's Cupid and Cupid the Goddess of Love cannot fall inlove, right?

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