' |

𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵'𝘴 𝘸𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘧𝘳𝘪𝘦𝘯𝘥𝘴 𝘢𝘳𝘦 𝘧𝘰𝘳 | 𝘬𝘪𝘣𝘢 𝘪𝘯𝘶𝘻𝘶𝘬𝘢

pairing: bff!kiba x afab!reader word count: 7.9k warnings: nsfw! 18+! minors DNI! | just two best friends helpin' each other out, virgin!reader wants experience and kiba has it, pussydrunk!kiba, praise kink, oral (f! and m!recieving), primal play (kinda? like a sprinkle?), unprotected sex (wrap it up guys), he's down for you and its bad, other characters mentioned, all characters in their early/mid 20s, not thoroughly proofread, no use of y/n author's note: this is 100% based on some thirsting that @tired-biscuit and i did for this man and... well, here we are. i listened to "nayhoo" by chon while writing the first bit of this. i also didn't anticipate it to be this long... 😅 it's my first time in a long ass time writing second-person as well, so just be gentle. there will absolutely be (at least) a part two where shit devolves at ino's new apt. i hope yall enjoy!

you can also read this on AO3 here.

KIBA’s fingers twitch as he watches you place a piece of strawberry into your mouth, your lips encasing your delicate fingertips in a way he knows should be innocent, should be just friends having lunch together, but it’s not. It hasn’t been for a long time. 

Dappled sunlight filters in through the full, vibrant trees towering above you, and the incessant hum of cicadas fills the air, mixing with the cadence of rustling leaves in the summer breeze. Loose, thin clothes, skin glazed in a thin layer of humidity and sweat, clammy hands from thrumming heartbeats.

Summer has always been a favorite time for the both of you, ever since the summer you moved to Konoha during your childhood. The summer that changed everything. Sticky sweetness, endless days, sunburnt cheeks. Ever since, you and Kiba have been attached at the hip, having lived in the house just down the street and your mothers working together. Hours of fetch with Akamaru, rock skipping competitions with Shino as referee, hushed conversations with Hinata about Naruto. He accepted you with open arms; they all did. 

“Just another one of the pack.”

Kiba hated when you and Hinata would sneak off, however. He’d bribe Shino—or attempt to—just to spy and listen. When Shino would call him out on his reddened ears, his anticipation in finding out the girl talk, his picking at his nails until you would return, he’d tug his hoodie up and change the subject.

“You like her.” Shino would tell him, plainly, a fact of life. 

“No!” the brunette would huff. “She’s just a friend.”

Kiba takes a swig from his canteen, a drip of water fumbling from his lip to his chin when he pulls it away. He blinks away the memories of summers, of lifetimes spent under the same blazing sun. Sunburnt chests, laying on Akamaru with bare arms pressed to each other while looking for aliens, small, small clothes.

“That’s what friends are for, Kiba!” You say through the small bite. 

“It’s going to be so hot though,” he whines, throwing his head back with his forehead scrunched in irritation. “Who the fuck moves in the middle of July? You know who? Crazy people, that’s who.”

“Whether you like it or not, Ino is moving,” you shake your head at him, a hint of playful irritation on your drawl as you watch his head tilt back, the expanse of his neck exposed. A dare, a first kiss, a summer night. “And we both agreed to help her. Besides, it’ll go by quick with all of us helping. You’ll be okay. ”

“So annoying.” He croaks, but then he lets his head fall forward. His intense, dark eyes settle on yours once more, and he fights the urge to drink you in the way he does when you’re not looking. When you’re fidgeting while you’re trying to beat him at Mario Kart, when your face is scrunched in concentration when you’re aiming a kunai. 

He sends a sideways glance at Akamaru—a lifeline, a phone-a-friend— and the white-haired dog lets out the equivalent of a mumble and a shrug. 

Kiba throws his hands in the air, exhaling a “Fine! Fine.”

“You’re such a baby.” You laugh, a teasing yet light sound.

A sound that causes a flutter to rampage through his chest, and a restrained tug of a smile spreads across his features in response. But he’s practiced this, practiced suppressing the itch in his hands to reach out, to kiss you, to breathe in that laugh as if it was the air itself he needs.

He already does that with your scent alone.

“Whatever.” He grabs a clump of rice in his chopsticks and eats it. 

You can tell there’s a hint of something underneath the surface with Kiba, something that’s hard to pinpoint. Of course, during your girl talks with Hinata, you’d open your heart to her. About how Kiba didn’t scare you, despite his animalistic side, how he just wanted attention, that’s why he acts that way, about how much you had to refrain from squirming when he looked at you as you both got older.

She’d gasp when you would talk that way, but she’d always add her own tidbit of girlish tension in a hushed voice.

“So, uh… w-while we’re talking about favors…” you start, your eyes falling to the bento box in your lap. 

“If you’re moving, too, the whole ride-or-die thing goes out of the window.”

“No, fuck no!” Another light laugh, another shake of your head, but this time more at yourself than anything. If only it was just moving...

You’ve been mulling on asking him about this for weeks now. You’d recently met a boy, because you, too, have practiced the art of burying the want to grab him, to feel the ripple of muscles that dance underneath the fishnet material of his shirt, to tangle your fingers in his hair and find out if he likes his hair tugged the way you do, if he doesn’t, moving yourself against him until his desires tumble out of him on their own. 

But you’ve met a boy, Jun, who is sweet. Kind. A responsible, gentle Ninja. You’re in no way committed, no title. Your mother adores him, your father respects him. He’s yet to make you uncomfortable, opens doors for you, brings you flowers every time he sees you. You’ve gone on a few dates with him, and you like him—enough to want more than the heavy petting and stale kisses. But then there is a small part of you, small yet persistent enough—

“The way a man feels about you is crystal clear when you bed ‘im,” Ino had told you once during a ‘girl’s night’ at Sakura’s. 

“What do you mean?” 

“If he truly wants you,” the blonde continued, jabbing her finger in your direction. “He can’t fake that while buried inside.”

“I’m convinced love has its own chakra,” Sakura had added. “It moves between you and the other person. Like a bolt of lightning.”

“Or a burning fire.”

The small part of you that craves to see if he’d do it, and if you’d be able to tell which natural disaster would rage between you—if one at all. 

“What’s with the serious-ass face? You’re scaring me…” Kiba continues, his voice pulling you back to the here and now. He leans forward to catch your eyes again, then continues in a whisper. “Do we need to hide a body?”

“Kiba—”

“Oh, wait, it is serious.” He clears his throat and sits up, a different demeanor taking him over. His gaze fixates on you, his position stiffening as he studies you in a fraction of a moment. “‘Kay, sorry. What’s up?”

“It’s about Jun.”

His muscles tighten, and he places his bento box on the blanket you’re both sitting on. The guy who takes you on dates, the guy he can tell you’re not head over heel for. Jun, who fills the time, because Kiba can tell sweet Jun bores you. At least, that’s what Kiba tells himself. “Okay.”

“Uh… I don’t really know how to ask this, so I’m just going to.” You shift in your seat, mustering the gumption to speak clearly, forward, just ask your best friend for a favor. A dare, the childhood magic in special first kisses, adult magic in special first times. Not wanting to look like a dunce to the boy your mother adores, your father respects.

“I want to sleep with Jun, but I’ve never… ya know. And you have, so—”

Ba-dum. A heavy heartbeat, thick in his ears, piercing his palms.

His eyes widen, dark and yet darker, darker still. Heat floods his cheeks, bubbling under his skin and filling his abdomen. The swelling of a storm.

Ba-dum.

“I know it’s weird, a-and you can absolutely say no. You’re my best friend, though, and it’s not like I can just ask anyone. This isn’t like a new development either, I wanted to wait to ask you—n-not that I’ve just been, ya know, thinking about this and you. I just have zero experience, you know that, but I want to be a bit more confident in—”

Ba-dum.

“Do you like him?” Kiba’s voice falls flat, more flat than he anticipates, but the words hang there. Screaming cicadas, colliding tree branches. “Really, truly like him?”

Ba-dum.

“Yeah.” You nod. You’re convincing yourself and lying to him all at the same time. But maybe, just maybe trusting Kiba with this moment, with your first time, with breaking the barrier between fantasy and reality—maybe it won’t be so bad. “I do.”

“Then I’ll do it.” He swallows the solid lump in his throat, convincing himself and lying to you all at the same time. “Besides, that’s what friends are for.”

—

Kiba told you he’d come over later that evening, to do whatever it is that made you most comfortable. Shower, don’t shower. Shave, don’t shave. Wear whatever it is you wanted, to pretend like he was just coming over like he always did, to hang out like you always did.

You couldn’t sit still the moment you got home. You cleaned and showered. Tried to read, tried to scroll through your phone, tried to do any- and everything you could to not get caught up in the motions of it all, fought yourself for ten minutes on if you should even light a candle or not because it’s not like that but damn it—

Yes it is.

But this wouldn’t mean anything, right? Regardless of a candle lit, which made the whole space smell of honeysuckle and lemon, it’s just your best friend, doing you a favor: teaching you how to work a cock by using his. 

Oh, god, his cock. What would it look like? Feel like? Would it curve, or would it be veiny? The thought alone causes you to fidget in your seat on the couch, your eyes darting between the clock on your phone and the front door to your apartment. You feel your heartbeat in your ears and in your core, pulsing. Arousal pools in your underwear at the mere thought of him—how did you expect to function?—and you pinch your thighs together.

You still couldn’t believe he had agreed. And Kiba couldn’t either, even as he meandered his way to your door, his eyes steadfast in the direction of your apartment building. What made either of you think this was a good idea? Was his practice paying off? Did he want it to? He had finally, finally been offered the invitation, the “come over” call that he dreamed of. He had hoped, however, that the circumstances would be different, that it would be for him.

Two heavy knocks on the door alert you to his presence, though somehow you’re sure you catch the scent of his body wash before his knuckles meet the wood. You pull the door open. Musk, earth, hazelnut, bergamot. Messy kitchens, ugly, delicious cookies, using his shower and wearing his clothes. 

He’s bathed as well, his hair still slightly damp as it hangs above his shoulders. A wide grin flashes over his face, his eyes disappearing into the image, his teeth catching the overhead light. Your face fills with a weighty heat, and your abdomen flutters at the sight of his broad shoulders and his toned arms under the fabric of his shirt. 

He’s opted for his usual lounge attire: a t-shirt, joggers, and sneakers. In his hands are takeout—he’s always eating—and drinks for you to share. You felt underdressed somehow in your own home, donning a thin-fabriced, comfortable yet cute t-shirt and shorts combination—something you’d worn around him countless times. Yet, he’d shown up like this countless times, food and a smile in tow, and he somehow seems more prepared than you’d ever seen him. The way he’s standing tall, his chest open to you… had he prepared?

Despite the vanilla-scented body-wash and the floral candle, the moment the door opens, revealing you in your post-shower, pre-coitus flush, he takes in the intoxicating scent of your arousal, of your skin, of you, and he presses his intent further into his smile. Not here, not now, not just past the threshold.

“Brought food. I doubt you ate.” 

This motherfu—

“Thanks. I… actually haven’t eaten, now that I think about it.”

The tension is palpable. He’s trying a little too hard not to look at you, to not brush by you and linger. Though, he doesn’t understand why. You’d asked him to come over and help you, to quell the curiosity of experience, to be good for Jun. 

The swelling of a violent storm.

You step aside and allow him in, and he does what he always does: makes himself at home, rummages through your cabinets for plates, a fork, two cups. You watch his hands maneuver whatever he’s holding, the muscles in his forearms. He keeps his nose buried in the food, trying to find something, anything to focus on other than you, in all of your totality. 

Kiba jokes with you, carries on conversation while he divides out the food, move to the couch, sit just far enough to not touch, yet close enough to still feel each other’s body warmth. He’s talking and talking, rambling about the day you had already heard about, about a new bug Shino had shown him, about the hot springs he wants to go to in the town over. Maybe, just maybe, he’s nervous, too. 

He jokes with you, as if he’s not already imagining your velvety throat wrapped around his aching girth, your face contorted in pleasure as he laps his tongue over your sensitive clit, his name tumbling out of your mouth, hitched and squeaked: “Kiba, Kiba—!”

“Ki-ba~!” You wave a hand over his glazed-over eyes as you call his name, sing-song and light, an attempt to bring him back from wherever he disappeared to as he’s stuck, freeze-frame, a cup halfway lifted to his mouth. You lean against the back of the couch toward him, only slightly, with an eyebrow cocked and a grin peeling back the corners of our mouth. “Where did you go, bud?”

There’s a split second, less than a blink of an eye where his hand is holding his drink; the next, it’s wrapped around your wrist, the cup on the table. How did he…?

His grip is tight, steadying, but then it eases by a fraction, and he finds himself studying the palm of your hand, imagining it wrapped around his throbbing, swollen girth, before his eyes flick up to yours, his jaw clenched, tight, teeth grinding as the wheels he’d frozen over long ago begin to turn, churning, yearning— 

“Why did you ask me to do this?” His voice is low, hoarse, carried by a held breath, a tight chest. 

There’s an underlying shift happening, and you can feel it in the soles of your feet, the palms of your hands. He somehow seems larger, taller, more devious. A full moon, an autumn night, finding out the ride the full moon sent him on before he disappears, unable to show you the animal that wanted to come out and ravage you, the side of Kiba he saves for the girls he will never see again because he can’t ruin you, you’re his best friend, his confidant.

Ba-dum.

He’s close, so close to you that you can see the pulse of his heartbeat in his neck. So close that the burning heat radiating off of him causes your own skin to surge, your heart to lurch, the damned fluttering in your abdomen. His eyes are zeroed in on you, black irises inflamed with dilated pupils. Hungry, restrained. Electricity ignites within your veins under his touch. He’s touched you, many times. A hug, a helping hand, a comforting shoulder. Why does this feel different?

“Because I trust you.”

Ba-dum.

His heart swells, clawing at his ribcage, screaming to be set free. You trust him. With your secrets, with your life, with your body. His gaze flicks on your lips, only for a moment, before his devilish eyes find yours once more. 

Ba-dum.

“Have you ever even touched a cock before?” He murmurs, his tone taking on something silken and starved. He pivots his body to turn, his eyebrow cocked, a whisper of a coy smirk tugging at the corner of his lips, and he closes the space between you, the space that’s always between you. 

You blink as a prickling heat travels up your spine, his question as well as his shift in energy catching you off-guard. Kiba’s never spoken to you, let alone around you this way, even when joking. Though he told you whenever he brought a girl home, or made out with another, you’re sure the gruesome details of his sexual escapades were dumped on Shino, or maybe even Naruto, if anyone. But you’re familiar with the wild look in Kiba’s eyes, the way he’s looking at you: a predator searching for his prey. The other side of Kiba.

“You’d know if I—” You start, but your words catch in your throat as you attempt to let them spill all over your kitchen counter. Even if it had happened, would you tell him? Would it have been in confidence, to share a story time, or would it have been to get even a chance to see a flicker of jealousy, of rage, of something? “No, I haven’t. N-not, ya know… skin to skin, anyway.”

The sting of embarrassment bubbles in our throat, your voice smaller than you wanted it, and whispers nothing good into your ears, but you maintain your eye contact. You made the first pitch, and now it’s game time. 

“And you’re sure you want me to be the first?” He asks before he brings your palm to lips and presses a wet yet tender kiss to it. The notion surprises him, that he allowed himself more than anything, but he knows what it’s doing to you—he can smell it. “I do also have your first kiss, so I’d be two-for-two, bud.” 

The feeling of his mouth on you sends coursing fire to your cunt, and you can almost, almost feel his lips against your now-soaked folds. And he’s patronizing you, a playful lilt clinging to the nickname, but you don’t hate it. It’s Kiba, in totality. Him making sure, despite his coy grin and thirsty eyes, only makes you want him more.

“I don’t know if that really counts…” You mutter. It does count, and it’s always counted, but he doesn’t need to know that. A stupid game of truth or dare one adolescent summer, the summer you knew you’d never rid your thoughts of Kiba. A summer initiating the biggest game of make-believe.

“How rude.” He smiles against your hand, and his hot breath and pointed canines brush against your palm. He shrugs, his grip falling from your arm, and then he exhales a dramatic sigh. “I guess I’ll have to make up for it, then. Can’t have meaningless kisses out there.”

Ba-dum.

Lighting cracks inside of you as his large hands splay across your hips and pull you into his lap. Your hands scramble, only for a moment, before one lands on the back of the couch, and the other finds purchase on his shoulder.

The battle within him is raging, a savage and destructive thing. He wants to take you, now, now, but he can’t, he won’t. You’re not the girls he’s given meaningless kisses to. You’re his best friend, and he’s waited this long. 

He can wait just a little bit longer.

Ba-dum.

Draping your thighs around his hips, he looks up at you with earnest eyes, a moment of hesitation between you two as he waits for a no, a wait, a maybe we shouldn’t. The pulsing heat of his cock strains against his joggers, pressed firmly against your core as he holds you against him. Though muffled by the thick denim, you feel the aching throb beneath you, the pulsing twitch, the size. 

Ba-dum.

When the blockade doesn’t come, and you meet his gaze with an equally intrigued look, his grip on your shirt tightens. He cranes his neck up, and he whispers against your lips, “I have a rule.”

Your heart stutters at the husk in his voice, the low demand for attention. “Okay…”

“If you have questions, ask. And—eh, I guess two rules.” Kiba murmurs against your lips, his face flushed in the dim lighting. “If you want something, tell me.”

Your ears burn, the flush causing your skin to prickle. Your hair hangs at the side of your face, closing you and Kiba into a world of your own, the world you both have always played in. Just the two of you. 

“Okay.” You nod, your body ignited in a burning flame. “I will.”

Kiba’s lips collide with yours, rough and excited, then soften, pull back, relax, as his hands tangle the fabric of your shirt in their grasp, and his hips tilt up into yours. A slight movement, one he barely notices himself, but the weight of you on him alone sends a shiver through his body. Another subconscious jerk of his pelvis, reacting to the warmth, the weight, you you you. 

The air in your lungs vanishes as his lips bring a reprieve, a cold drink on a hot summer day, lifting the lid before it all boils over, and your grip on his shoulder tightens. Head spinning, a drunken buzz just from his kiss. There’s a small moment that wonders if this is actually a fantasy, something you’ve conjured up in your head, a fever dream. 

Your own hips move as you run your tongue along his bottom lip, adding intent as you roll against him, slow, methodical, feeling his entirety through the mere layers of fabric separating the two of you. Always something in the way.

A heavy breath against your lips, he opens his mouth and allows the dance to commence, a slow dance that soon turns into a tango, fervent, impassioned, both of your bodies submitting to what they’ve desired. He tastes of takeout and impulse decisions, sunburnt cheeks, swollen lips, a stupid crush that isn’t a crush but a fact of life. Your hold on the couch releases, and your fingers tangle in his head of dark, thick hair. A grounding grip, a slight tautness against the nape of his neck. 

“Fuck…” He huffs before he nips at your bottom lip, his fingers dip underneath your shirt, grazing the flesh of your hips. He takes handfuls of your hips and brings you down against him further, closer, closing more of the space, more of that damned thing always in the fucking way. His lips trail from yours to your neck, the space below your ear, and he runs a flattened tongue along your skin, tasting it, breathing you in before sloppy kisses decorate your neck.

Your eyes fall hooded, and a light pant tumbles out of you at the contact. He sucks at a particular spot, bringing blood to the surface, his canines barred against your flesh.

“Kiba!” You gasp, the hint of a nervousness in your tone, and you detach yourself, only slightly, slightly. “You can’t leave any marks.”

“Sorry, sorry!” He chuckles, and then it hits him, crashes into him that you’re there, he’s here, and he’s supposed to be teaching you and yet, yet, he’s caught in the tidal wave of learning you. His cheeks and ears tinge with a beet red glaze, and he swallows thickly as he stares up at you. “I’ll try to remember.”

“But I want you to.” is what you want to say, but you don’t. 

“It’s okay,” you reassure with another light laugh. “I’ll be sure to remind you.”

“I’m happy you did. Don’t ever feel like you can’t speak up with someone, especially if you’re, ya know… If a guy doesn’t listen to you, he—wait, what are you—” 

He had started to ramble, stumbling in the moment of stillness. You, however, found the moment to be just when the courage hit to reach a delicate hand down and trace the edge of his joggers. 

“I want to see it.” Your eyes flick to his lap, to the strained outline of his still throbbing, stiff cock before finding his gaze again. 

Stunned, he stares up at you with wide eyes. Your words echo in his head, over and over, his ears ringing at the sound of your inquiry. When the blockade, the no, the maybe we shouldn't, doesn't come, you peel yourself away from him and lower yourself between his spread knees. 

The swelling storm brews inside of him, the savage and violent force of nature. Wait, wait, relax. 

“Thank you for telling me.” His eyes don’t leave you as you swallow another weighty lump in your throat, and you pull at the combined bands of his joggers and underwear. He lifts himself up, just enough to help slide the two layers of fabric off of him, watching your reaction.

When his erect member springs up at the sudden relief and twitches, your eyes widen. It’s nothing like the ones you had seen on a screen, but it's like the ones people write about. Thick is an understatement, and two prominent veins run along his length. A pink head, the color of his lips, donned with a dribble of clear slick and wrapped in taut skin. The image of his aching cock sends heat pooling at your core, and you shift in your spot—though it only makes things worse, and your heartbeat thrums in your clit.

He sucks in a breath at your innocent gape, the sight causing his mind to go to dark places where you’re screaming his name, head buried against the mattress, it’s too deep, I’m gonna break, his hand tangled in your mess of hair.

You glance up at him in his flustered state, before you turn your eyes downward and wrap a unsure but willing hand around the base. His hips jerk into your touch, and one of his hands finds purchase on the couch cushion, his knuckles whitening as he keeps himself grounded by his grip. His mind is reeling, a flipbook of the thousand positions he’d kill to see you in, put you in.

“Shit…” He spits through clenched teeth. 

“Did I—” You freeze.

“N-no, you’re fine, you can—” He starts, but your slow, fisted movement up and then down his shaft cuts him off. “Yeah, like that…”

“That’s okay?” You ask as you slowly pump your hand around him, your eyes flicking between his length in your hand and his eyes on you. 

“Y-Yeah.” Kiba nods, saliva pooling in his mouth as he watches you, dinner and dessert in front of him on a silver platter. He clears his throat, the anticipation making him fidgety. The longer he had to wait, the more the pulsing desperation in his length called to him, begging him for release. 

He has to wait a little bit longer. 

You nod, and then you sit up on your knees and tighten your grip, just slightly, and increase your pace. His eyebrows pull together as he continues to observe, a face of pleasure, and you feel another wave of heat rush under your skin. Your hand reaches the tip, and the precum allows the smallest bit of lubrication as you twist your hand, up and down. 

“You’re doing a good job,” he groans, his voice deeper than before, hoarse, restrained. Hearing him like this, praising you, you’re sure you’ll go insane by the end of the night—if you weren’t already.  “You can use your mouth, too.”

“I know!” You quip, embarrassment tingling your cheeks. “I was getting there. Though I don’t know if it’ll fit…” The last bit is more for yourself than anything, said under your breath, but he hears you, and he can’t help but imagine you choking on his fat cock, tears streaming down your face. 

Ba-dum.

You lean forward, your eyes crossing as you near your target, and your hand settles at the base. You can do this, you tell yourself, before an unsure yet more than willing tongue licks at his cockhead. He tastes of salt and velvet, and your waiting eyes flick up at him. 

“Like that,” he purrs, his deep eyes, dark and yet darkening, narrowed on you by the time you’re looking at him. So intent on watching you, committing the scene to memory.

The encouragement leads you to flatten your tongue and run it along the length of one of the veins. His girth twitches in reaction, accompanied by a breathy curse and a jerk upwards of his hips, though this time intentional.

“Around the tip,” he instructs, his voice trapped somewhere between a groan and a whine. It’s the best he can do to keep himself from fucking into your throat. 

You do as he says, swirling your hot tongue around the pink head, collecting his slick in your mouth and finding yourself relishing in the taste. 

“Good girl. You’re doing so good.” He pants as his hand, purposefully slow, pushes your hair out of your face and collects it into a loose bunch at the back of your head. His head feels light, like if he doesn’t hold onto you someway, somehow, he’s going to float away. 

The two syllables bring your thighs together, a thrum of pressure building in your cunt. You’re soaked already, you can feel it gathering in your underwear, but something about his tone, his dilated eyes downcast, his heedless praise that urges you further, to slowly and messily run glaze his skin with your tongue, circling, up, down. You wanted to hear it more, hear his sounds of pleasure, hear his words of adoration. For him to touch you, everywhere.

And he knows. He senses the shift in your energy, the way you tense up when he encourages you, and he smells it, the collection of wetness just one, two layers away. His grip on your hair tightens, tension gathered at the nape of your neck.  

You swirl your tongue once, twice, three times around the tip before you wrap your pretty lips around his cock, sucking at it.

A popsicle, a strawberry at lunchtime, brewing electricity.

“Oh, fuck—” Kiba growls, and his hips buck into the warmth of your mouth as you bob your head, taking small, increasing portions of him each time, little moans vibrating his skin. “Shit, yes, like that. So fucking good.”

A slippery tongue, fingers tangling in hair, flashing lightning.

“Such a good girl. Move your hand while you—yes.” He pants as he watches his cock disappear into your throat, your hand pumping whatever you don’t take in your mouth. 

Two gazes met. 

Ba-dum. 

The crackling roll of thunder.

Within a moment, he scoops you up with a huff of impatience—so fucking fast, how does he do that—and you let out a yelp of surprise.

“Kiba!” You squirm as you’re placed over his shoulder and carried into your bedroom. 

He doesn’t answer you verbally; instead, he shrugs you onto the bed, and you land on your back. His erect member is still out, fully exposed, but he doesn't pay any mind to it as he takes fistfuls of your shorts and tugs them off, unwrapping you, a little present, just for him. 

“Kiba, what are you—” You start, but your words tangle in your throat when he rids you of your underwear, letting them fall to the floor. Unwrapped, a present, just for him. 

“Oh!” You exclaim when he hooks his arms under your thighs and tugs you to the edge of the bed. 

He falls to his knees, his intense eyes falling to your glistening folds. You smell even sweeter this way, and his head buzzes, dizzied, intoxicated as he drinks you in. His composure is slipping, and he wastes no time lapping his tongue along your slit, from entrance to clit. 

“Oh…!” You purr, and then you muffle yourself with your hand as schlurp sound comes from him kissing your cunt, sloppy and hasty. His tongue is rough against your sensitive skin, and when it catches your swollen bud, your hips jerk under him, moaning against your palm. 

“No,” he huffs against you in that hoarse, demanding voice. He laps his tongue along your entirety, and then he suckles at your throbbing clit, his eyes watching, always watching. “I wanna hear you.”

“But what if—ahh, fuck—!” You tremble under his touch, your voice hushed, and you grip the blanket. You, too, feel the weightlessness, the risk of drifting away if you don’t. Your face contorts into bliss as your back arches, pushing yourself against his mouth. It’s like you’re vibrating, hanging in a space between fantasy and reality. This isn’t real, it can’t be, his mouth can’t feel that good, not Kiba’s mouth, not—

His nails press into your skin as he holds on to you, pulling you closer, closer to him as he eats you, his fervent and messy movements building a tension in your abdomen more intense than anything you’ve accomplished by yourself. His tongue teases your entrance, your nectar driving him further. He delves it into you, holding you against him as he fucks his appendage into your sopping cunt.

“Kiba—” You moan into the air, your other hand finally finding purchase on his arm, clinging to him. 

His name tumbles from your lips, and for a moment, he swears the world goes silent, a deafening ringing filling his ears as you call out. He feels you tightening around him, a bewildered aura taking him over. He’s now desperate for your release, to feel you squirm and writhe underneath him, to keep calling his name. He trails his tongue back to your clit, flicking, circling as a slender finger finds your entrance. It slips inside, your arousal coating his skin, and it pumps in and out of you, restrained, slow.

“Oh, god,” you exhale, your eyes widening as he adds another finger, his digits curling inside of you. “Oh, that feels so good, fuck.”

“Mmmhh.” He watches you arch off the bed, his nose pressed to your mound, his tongue making quick and heavy work of your pulsing clit, stretching you as he adds another finger, slow, waiting for the blockade, the maybe we shouldn’t.

His pulsing length twitches, a violent motion that calls his attention, but he forces it out of his mind. This is about you, about stretching you and pushing you over the edge, your sweet release. The tightness of your walls tells him it's soon, your body tense. 

Instead, his pumping of his slender digits is met with another cry of his name. Three fingers stuffed, his fingertips massaging the sweet spot inside of you. The burn of the stretch pulls your eyebrows together, and yet you roll your hips against him, wanting the friction, craving the release, another explosion of deafening thunder, the swelling thunderstorm that is Kiba.

“Ki-Kiba, I’m gonna—” You can’t even finish your sentence. It hits you, almost out of nowhere. You’re unraveling, your legs shaking, your skin on fire and the swelling storm raging, ravaging your entire body as it caves in. Your juices pour out of you, trickling down his chin, and he drinks you up with another loud schlurp.

“Fuck.” He groans against you, and his lips envelop your clit as he pumps his fingers into back you, his tongue resuming its assault. His fingers move in you with a faster pace, a hardened pressure against the spongy flesh inside of you. “I need you to cum again. To be ready for my cock.”

“Oh, shit!” You sob. “Right there, right there, right there—”

You’re so sensitive, so intoxicated by the way he handles you, the way he looks at you, the way even he smells, tastes, feels. 

“That’s it.” He eggs you on, the itch to palm himself, to rut into you, to lose it just out of reach. 

You claw at his arm, at the sheets, at anything you can. You’re going to explode, his slippery tongue and fervent fingers bringing you again, closer to ecstasy. 

“Cum for me,” he demands, and as if you’d been born to listen, you do on his gruff command, crying out curses as a mind-stopping orgasm bursts through you. You see stars, the entire night sky on your bedroom ceiling. 

“Good girl.” He swipes his tongue along your clit before he removes his fingers from you, slow, gentle, and he sucks his fingers clean of your slick, his girth throbbing harder, harder at your taste. Honey glaze, a spark of lightning, crashing branches in the wind. 

He steps out of his joggers and tugs off his shirt, his shoes having been left at the door long ago, his blood coursing through his veins, liquid metal, at the sight of your shivering, half naked body beneath him. With another fast motion, he’s hovering over you, his arm wrapped around your waist to bring you back further onto the bed, your head hitting pillows this time. His hands graze from your thighs and up your shirt, his palms brushing the hardened peaks of your nipples before he lifts your shirt off of you. And then he stares down at you, starved yet adoring eyes. Skinny dipping, a lakeside fire, burnt marshmallows.

You meet his gaze as your chest heaves, coming down slowly from your high, studying the angle of his collarbone, the curve of his chest, the dim light highlighting the flesh that you never dared to touch, to learn—until now. You place your hands on his arms, feeling the ripple of muscle as you feel his shoulders, his chest.

A moment, suspended in time between the both of you. Your heavy breathing fills the otherwise quiet room and the low, rhythmic hum of cicadas just outside your window. Your heart is a drum inside of your chest, beating, beating, bursting as he looks down at you, and your heart skips as you feel his cockhead tease your entrance, rubbing against your slick folds and causing a hitched gasp to fall when it grazes over your sensitive clit. 

“Are you ready for me?” Kiba inquires in a husky voice, gravely and controlled. 

Ba-dum.

“Yes,” you whisper in return, your hands settling on his biceps as you keep your eyes on his. 

“Okay,” he nods, swallowing the lump in his throat, and he presses himself into you, slow, achingly slow.

Ba-dum.

Another gasp wracks your chest, and your eyes widen again as you watch his face scrunch in concentration. And then he whines, a short and quiet sound that makes your ears ring. He wants to jerk into you, bottom out, and the self-restraint is slipping out of his grasp like grains of sand. 

Ba-dum.

“Relax for me,” he urges you through clenched teeth as your walls remain tight around him. 

“S-Sorry. Oh, fuck, Kiba. I-it’s huge.” You stammer as you glance down at his girth disappearing into you, stretching you past anything your fingers, even his, could offer. You feel every inch of him as he spreads you, opening his present, celebrating his own holiday.

“I know, I’m sorry. You’re taking me so well.” He pants, working hard not to split you in two.

Ba-dum.

The pinch of his stretching you is different, much different than his fingers. He pulls himself back before pushing into you again, your slick aiding in his movements. It’s nothing like how you imagined, the awful and bloodied thing that’s rumored to be losing your virginity, but as he loads himself fully into you, pushing past the subtle barrier within, your body tenses up again, and a tinge of pain replaces the pleasure. 

“S-sorry, sorry.” He stumbles over his words. For years, he’s wondered what his girth would look like with you donning it, and now it’s here, right here. And it’s beautiful, heavenly. He doesn’t have the words to describe the way you look wrapped around him—the way you look in general, let alone eyebrows upturned, sweat collecting along your hairline, a heaving chest—but worth every fucking minute of waiting.

“Just—gimme a sec, okay?”

Ba-dum.

“Yeah, yes, sure.”

You take in deep breaths, wetness pooling at your entrance, and you ease the tension in your muscles, allowing yourself to acclimate. Relax, relax, but fuck you’re at capacity, at your wits end, wanting to unravel all over again—and he’s barely even moved.

“Okay… we’re good.”

“You sure?”

Ba-dum.

“Yes.” You answer, a strong syllable on your tongue. You’ve never been so sure in your life.

Ba-dum.

And he hears the certainty, feels it reverberate through his bones. He pulls himself back, then into you again, another restrained roll of his hips. You can tell he’s holding back with the way his face is pulled together, with the vein in his neck jutted out. 

“Shit.” Kiba mutters, one hand finding purchase on your hip while the other supports him on the bed. 

“Fuck, Kiba…” You sigh, your body slowly making room for him. 

“My name sounds nice when you moan it,” he purrs, leaning down, his skin desperate for contact with yours. 

“Don’t say things like that,” you whisper, a near-plea, your nails digging into his skin as your eyes fall half-hooded. And then he hits that spot, the spot, deep within you, and your back lifts off the bed, pressing your chest to his, another moaned swear falling out of you.

“Why?” He grins, a coy look that almost makes his depraved gaze seem sweet. “It’s true.”

“Idiot…” You respond, your voice hitched. 

“Hm?” He cocks his head to the side, a wild look filling his features. He jerks his hips, once, hard, bucking into you before returning to his agonizingly slow pace. “Couldn’t hear you.”

“Fuck!” You cry out, dragging your nails along his skin. It hurts, his abrasiveness, but it hurts in a way you don’t hate, that you almost want again. “Fucking asshole.”

“Asshole?” He chuckles, a guttural sound that isn’t impressed. He ruts into you again, wanting to hear that squeaky little voice, that pitched moan that he’s creating. “Baby girl, that’s not you really mean, is it?”

“Goddamn it, fuck, Kiba!” Your voice carries through the room, sending a prickling heat up his spine at the sound. You’re full, so full, and his resolve is slipping, slipping, gone altogether when you sob out his name again. 

“Look at you, taking all of me,” he praises, and he glances down at his work before a growled moan leaves his own lips. “Fuck, you’re doing so good.”

Pleasured tears burn your eyes, and you look up at him before reaching up, without thinking, and tangle your hands in his hair, pulling him fully against you. Another sound of pleasure vibrates his chest, muffled as he presses his lips to yours, another messy, impassioned, needy dance. 

Another whine escapes him as the restraint fades away into nothing. Your hips open for him, your legs wrapping around his waist as his movements become heavier, more momentum behind them. He envelops you with his arms, one hooked on your shoulder and the other holding your hip. You’re so close, so close; there is no longer anything in the fucking way.

“The way a man feels about you is crystal clear when you bed ‘im.” Ino’s words weigh on your mind, and you wonder if friends are supposed to cling to each other like this.

Of course they don’t, but you don’t allow the thought to cross your mind. Not here, not now. 

“Kiba, Kiba—” You pant against his lips between struggling breaths and fervent kisses. 

“You’re fucking heaven,” he huffs in return. He moves again, peeling away from you only to push your legs to your chest before leaning down again.

“Fuck, it’s so fucking deep.”

“That’s it,” he coos, his balls slapping against you as he fucks into you, his mercy and patience wearing thin. “Take it all. Good girl.”

The earth-splitting strike of lightning, the house-shaking rumble of thunder.

You’re spinning, free-falling as his length is buried inside of you, his cockhead brushing against your cervix. It’s deep, too deep, not deep enough. Your nails rake across his shoulder blades. His lips find the curve of your neck, and he sucks at the skin, biting down, keeping you in place. 

“Shit, shit—” The bubbling of heat collects in your abdomen, and you grip his hair once more, tight, a grounding grip.

He growls against your flesh as he brings the blood to the surface, but this time he doesn’t stop. He’s marking you, his, his, his. 

“Kiba!” You call out, your voice echoing, laced with a warning and pure nirvana.

“I’m sorry,” he murmurs, licking the skin, before landing on another spot on the other side and repeating himself. “I can’t fucking help it. I’m sorry.”

He doesn’t mean it, and you can tell. The unfortunate part is: neither do you.

He mutters another half-apology as his thrusts become relentless, fucking into you as he did with the girls he gave meaningless kisses to. But you’re not them, you’re you, it’s not meaningless, it never will be.

You sob his name as you cling to him, the wet sounds accompanying the slap of skin. You’re floating away, gone, a fever dream within a fever dream, trembling legs hugging his waist.

“G-Gonna—” 

“Fuck, yes, cum for me. Cum all over this fucking cock.”

And you do, hard. A violent, shattering burst of heat and your essence that sends you into orbit, lightheaded, tears of bliss rolling down your cheeks. Your walls clench around him, milking him for everything he has.

He thrusts into you, enough force behind them to rock the bed, to scoot you further into the pillows as his own climax swells. He bottoms out once, twice, each jerk making you cry out before he pulls away from you, a hasty and frantic movement, steadying his member in his hand as ropes of white hot cum land across your stomach in spurts.

You pant for air, chest heaving, your head still reeling by the time he’s wiped you clean of his essence, your body twitching as it works to come down from its nirvana. You hear him in the kitchen before he emerges at the bedside, a glass of water handed to you as he sits next to you. 

“Here.” He says gently, his tone now opposite of what it was mere moments ago.

“Thanks.” You sigh, and you sit yourself up, slowly, before taking the glass. After a few sips, you hand it back to him, and he follows your lead, one, two gulps of ice-cold heaven in a glass. Water has never tasted so sweet before.

“You okay?” He asks, looking over your sprawled-out body, a whisper of a laugh in his voice.

“Yeah…” you nod, though you can already tell you’ll be sore, so fucking sore tomorrow. “Yeah, I’m okay. Are you?”

“Never better.” He grins, and then his eyes widen as he catches his practice, his art of suppressing his feelings for you also slipping from his grasp. He clears his throat and looks down at the drink in his hand. You can tell the wheels in his mind are turning, grinding, but you don’t ask.

You don’t have to. That’s what friends are for.

pretty babies – gojo satoru x f!reader

a/n: idk about yall but I love me some drunk gojo

satoru never drinks, but when he does, ohoho, you’re in for quite the ride.

today was one of the days when he was less of a chaotic handful but more of an emotional mess who apparently can’t even remember his own wife. you sip on your drink, ignoring the drunk satoru leaning on the bar.

he slurs his words as he tries to flirt, “you’re sooo pretty, y’know that?”

you nod with a hum and give him no further reaction. in situations like these, you figured out that letting him go all out until he is tired and sleepy is the best solution. it really is like treating a baby.

thankfully, after many years of being in the presence of one gojo satoru, you’ve built up some patience.

he rests his head on the counter and he looks up at you, eyes wide and in awe, “I bet,” he hiccups and it is followed by a silly little giggle, “we’d make superrrr cute babies! like all round and chubby and we’d much on their cheeks like…mochi! yes! mochi…now I am hungry.”

a smirk makes an appearance on your face as you glance at satoru who is blabbering about building a family with you and spoiling you rotten.

a little teasing won’t harm anyone. so you quip, “you know,” and his attention is already on you, “you already gave me three super cute babies.”

his mouth is wide open in disbelief as he sits up, “no way!”

“yup! And they’re waiting at home for us.”

his eyes crinkle because of his wide grin, “really?!” he pulls you into a bone-crushing hug, “you got photos?! please tell me that you do!” and he switches to a pout so quickly, it gives you whiplash.

however, you gladly pull out your phone and show him the multitude of photos you have.

ones ranging from him being in a crib to help the youngest one sleep to ones with two of the three kids ganging up on him and him desperately calling for your help. satoru goes through every single photo, head on your shoulder and cheek squished.

he is silent throughout it all and when he is done, he looks up at you, “so that means that you’re my wife?”

you nod and your fingers, naturally, find their place on his head. he feels a little shiver of satisfaction before he smiles, one lovesick and silly smile, “I really hit the jackpot.”

you laugh, pressing a kiss to the top of his head, “I guess you did.”

so you take him back home where the kids are already asleep. satoru crashes on the bed right away, steady breaths filling the room. slowly, you take your place beside him and you feel his arms wrap around you.

he pulls you closer and buries his face in your hair. and you close your eyes, letting yourself be lulled to the land of dreams.

when you do wake up, you’re greeted by satoru literally on top of you and deep in sleep. you would like to let him sleep more especially since he looks so comfortable, but you’re going to suffocate at this rate. so you pat his back lightly, “satoru, honey, wake up.”

he groans and buries his face in the crook of your neck, grumbling something along the lines of ‘five more minutes’.

not budging? then fine, you decide. you take as deep of a breath as you can then call for your kids, “who will help mama?!”

it’s quiet and you can feel satoru smirking against your skin. it looks like he won, but then a bunch of footsteps are heard and it’s your turn to smirk.

your husband lifts his head to glare at you—of course, not without sporting one of his famous pouts.

the door is then slammed open and your eldest son is there, “WHO DARES HURT OUR MAMA?!”

he gasps, very dramatically like a certain someone, and points at his dad, “PAPA?! you’re suffocating mama!”

“again?!” your daughter pops up from behind her brother, staring at her dad in disbelief.

they both stand beside your bed glaring at him and he glares back, the three of them forgetting why you called for your kids in the first place. so you do them a favor and remind them, “satoru…I AM GOING TO DIE LIKE THIS!”

satoru is pulled  back by his shirt and your kids take turns in—trying—to beat him up. you get up, greedily breathing air till you’re satisfied. you ignore the screams of your husband until you’re done with your morning routine.

luckily enough, when you got out of the bathroom, you found no one except your husband.

laying on the ground.

presumably dead.

with a bunch of drawings on his face and his hair contained with multiple hair bands.

you snap a picture of him very quickly then you sit on the ground next to his corpse. you poke his butt and he groans, making you giggle, “what happened to the strongest sorcerer?”

he turns towards you with a small frown, “his pretty wife didn’t kiss him good morning so he had no energy to fight,” his head snaps towards the two tiny figures giggling behind the door, “these monsters.”

they squeal and run away once again before he ctaches them.

you gently take the hair bands off, “you’re lucky that our youngest devil is still asleep,” you then smooth down his hair and pat his head, “I love the smiley faces on your cheeks.”

he whines and rests his head on your shoulder, “stop bullying me!”

you hum and stroke his hair, “you know, you did something pretty cute yesterday.”

“I am always cute; what’re you talking about?”

“you flirted with me, your wife, and said we would make ‘super cute!’ babies,” you reveal and satoru seems unbothered. in fact, he seems proud and very happy with himself so you continue, “so I had to remind you of our three little devils and then I showed you pictures.”

he stands up, posing all confidently, “what can I say? I excel at everything even being cute—“

“then you cried like a little baby when I showed you my picture post labor and kept apologizing.”

taglist: @magenta-cat-drawingss @pompompurin1028 @scul-pted @dazaisdeathwish @requiem626k @nameless-shrimp @shinys-bsd-world-1 @sonder-paradise @ravenina14 @jessbeinme15s-notebook @todorokichills @ginneko @missrown @shrynkk @simplyxsinned @beautiful-is-boring @starlostlaiba @izukus-gf @irethepotato @thekaylahub @dazaisbloodybandages @aeanya @sweetcloudsimp @moon-catto @the-midnightskies @pianopuppygirl @gojosblackqueen @jisbizarre @kunikida-simp @fiona782 @kisakitwister @imjustasimpxd @psychopotatomeme @dreamcastgirl99 @watyousayin @doobiebochana @laylasbunbunny @hojicha-expresso @4sat0ruu @nineooooo @chuuyasboots @alekssashka7 @rieejjyubi02 @wemma67 @nothisispatrick300

copyright © tender-rosiey

do not copy or plagiarize or you will be reported

ALERT ! ! ! (1) NEW NOTIFICATION . . .

WE’RE PLAYING SEVEN MINUTES IN HEAVEN IN THE LIVING ROOM . . YOU COMING?

you’re surrounded by some of the hottest guys on campus while playing seven minutes in heaven at a frat party? what’s the worst that can happen . . .

NEW MESSAGE @WARNINGS : f. reader, college!au, aged!up characters, exhibitionism, unprotected sex / creampies, fingering / oral, quickie-esque sex, seven minutes in heaven scenarios that definitely last longer than seven minutes but who cares.

NEW MESSAGE FROM EMMIE @GAROUJO : please enjoy this little brain dump of drabbles / fics i’ll gradually release when my brain works . . . sob this is my first series so pls bare w me w posting it ><

TYPE OUT YOUR REPLY ! ! ! : WHO’S ALL PLAYING?

001. @GOJO SATORU . . .

YOUR RIVAL — the popular guy who is not only top of your class but also top of your list of most annoying men ever, he lives to tease and poke at you — gets a little too excited when you react to him, but maybe he’s got a reason for that?

002. @GETO SUGURU . . .

YOUR BESTFRIEND — you’ve known him forever, always having to deal with the questions of “are you guys dating?” while you both awkwardly brush it off, but are things about to get even more awkward after he drags you to his bestfriend satoru’s frat party?

003. @NANAMI KENTO . . .

HANDSOME STUDENT TEACHER — you were surprised when they’d brought in a student teacher so close to your age but also even more surprised when he was . . handsome? and suddenly at a frat party? is that even allowed?

004. @ITADORI YUUJI . . .

THE LOVEABLE JOCK — you’d fallen in love with yuuji’s personality just the same way as everyone else did, always helping him with his homework or cheering him on at games, but you would’ve thought watching him on the field would’ve warned you about his stamina . .

005. @FUSHIGURO MEGUMI . . .

YOUR LAB PARTNER — you’d grown closer in the few days you’d been working together in class, he was funny without realising and easy to get along with which made sense considering he was yuuji’s friend, but maybe his more subdued personality has left him a little . . inexperienced with people.

006. @FUSHIGURO TOJI . . .

THE KILLJOY — campus security who comes along because the music has been playing a little too loud and it seems people have had enough of it. ushering everybody out with his rippling muscles and tight shirt, but it doesn’t look like he’s about to let you go so soon.

© 2022 garoujo. please do not copy any of my layouts or writing and translate or repost onto any other sites.

Jealous Kiba

I have absolutely been slacking on writing any fics, and this isnt my normal content, but I have been thirsting for Kiba recently. So obviously, I have to write this 5.3K word filth :)

✧˖ ° includes~ seemingly modern au, established friendship, nsfw, jealous Kiba, praise kink, choking, dom!kiba, sub!reader, biting, scratching, hair pulling, honorifics, reader called good girl etc.

You all gathered at Sakura’s apartment for her small birthday celebration. She had finally turned 21, the house smelling of booze and excitement, Kiba noted. He was stone-cold sober, having driven himself here, and not as happy as everyone around.

Kiba watched stealthily from his spot on the couch as you stood next to the pony-tailed idiot. Now he had nothing against Shikamaru, it's just that he was standing too close for comfort and he missed when you would stand that close to him, even if you and him had only been friends. You guys used to hang out every day, but recently Kiba noticed you distancing yourself. Probably because you were buddy buddy with Shaikamaru. God, Kiba could practically smell the jealousy on himself. He had no right to really be mad, having never confessed his feelings to you, but still, had all your days together meant nothing? Now you’re outwardly flirting with one of his friends?

You threw your head back, laughing. Kiba noticed the way you placed your hand on Shikamaru’s shoulder, slightly pushing him away. He knew Shikamaru wasn’t that fucking funny, so why the hell were you laughing so hard? Kiba watches as you lean in and give Shikamaru a hug, figuring you were getting ready to leave. He couldn’t help but notice the way Shikamaru held you, one arm on your waist, the gentle rub of his hand on the back of your head as you pressed flush against his chest. Kiba could have torn him apart at that moment, but he calmed himself. He could never cause a scene like that, but if Kiba ever sensed discomfort from you, he would be by your side in an instant. No matter who the person was, if they made you uncomfortable, Kiba was there.

He got up, flattening out his army green hoodie, and walked over to you.

“Hey (Y/N), you heading home for the night?” He asks you.

You jump, a little stared and a little nervous. You had missed Kiba, but distancing yourself was the only way you thought you could get over this stupid crush. You and him had been friends for years, you couldn’t ruin it over some silly feelings. But fuck, did he look good in grean, the long sleeves of his hoodie pushed up giving you full view of his muscular forearms.

“Oh, yeah, I’m ready to hit my bed. Just gotta say bye to Sakura and thank her for inviting me,” you respond, looking up into his eyes. He towered over you.

“Let me drive you home then, you’ve been drinking, no?”

“Only like, two. You know I don’t drink like that. I’m fine to walk home, Kib,” you say.

“Well, you know I could never let a pretty girl like you walk home alone at night,” he starts, mimicking you. “Plus, I miss your stupid face,” He says, one hand on the back of his neck.

“Wow,” you say jokingly. “I don’t know if I should be offended or flattered with that two in one combo.”

Your laugh calms his nerves. “Oh come on, I can’t just be giving out compliments, (Y/N). But, you can take it however you want,” he says, flashing his canines.

“I take it you won’t have no for an answer, so I’ll meet you at the front door, hm?” You question, looking at him with doe eyes.

He swears his knees almost buckle with you looking at him like that. Faking innocence. Kiba nods his head like an excited puppy and makes his way to the door.

When you’re done saying bye to everyone, you walk over to the front door. You spot Kiba standing there, rocking on his heels. His hands were stuck in his jean pockets, head down, his scruffy hair falling a bit into his face. He looked so good.

“I’m ready,” you say simply, trying to collect yourself.

He gives you a look up and down, brows furrowed. “Where’s your jacket?”

“Oh, I didn’t bring one,” you say with a smile.

“Tsk, tsk. (Y/N), you know what kind of man I am. Did you really think I was gonna let you walk outside in that little dress with no jacket?” He begins to pull off his hoodie. His black T-shirt underneath lifts along with it, giving you a full view of his toned abs. You can’t help but squeeze your legs together, knowing if you put that hoodie on, the smell of him so close would drive you nuts.

“Kiba I’ll be-” you start, but are cut off by him shoving the sweater into your chest.

“No buts. Put the sweater on please,” Kiba says. You do as you’re told, the sweater falling slightly below your bottom. Almost the length of the white dress you were wearing. “There,” he says. “Much better.”

While you walk to the car, Kiba keeps the doors locked. He knows you would try to open it yourself and he just could not have that. He was too much of a gentleman. When he gets to the passenger door, he holds the handle, unlocks the door, and pulls it open for you. You can feel your cheeks warm at his action. You have to stop thinking of your friend like this, he’s just being nice.

He waits until he sees you are all set in your seat, feet comfortably in the car, before he softly closes the door and makes his way to the driver's side. You look through the tinted windows, openly ogling at his biceps and chest that are oh so visible through his shirt. You realize you do not really want to go home. You want to spend some time with the boy you’ve been avoiding for a month now. As he connects his phone to the radio and picks a playlist, you call him.

“Kiba, do you actually mind if we drive around a bit or something? I don’t actually want to go home, I was just tired of being around so many people,” you say, which isn’t a total lie. You didn’t want to be around everyone. And his hoodie was just a convincing factor for you to stay out with him.

“Of course, you know I love my late nights,” he says, looking over at you. “Especially when I spend them with you.”

Kiba can’t stand himself. For one, he’s being too corny. Two? He is trying to flirt with his best friend. Maybe he’s just confident after seeing you with another man, but he doesn’t think he wants to hide his feelings anymore. “Why don’t we go to our little spot by the water? Listen to some music in private?” he asks.

All you can do is nod your head and watch as he puts the car in drive. You keep looking over to his hands on the wheel, his muscles flexing with each turn. You feel stupid getting turned on by something so small, but you can’t help it. The sound of the leather cracking when he grips the wheel, the veins on his hands. You clench your thighs together, that familiar feeling erupting in your lower stomach. Kiba pretends not to notice.

He pulls up close to the water and turns the headlights off. One of your guys favorite songs starts to play, you make out the lyrics even though the volume is low.

“Oh my god, remember when we used to sing this so loud and your mom would yell at us to shut up cause it would wind up the dogs too much?” You ask, giggling at the memory.

“How could I forget?” He responds. “We did that everyday for weeks. We were always together.”

“Yeah, I’m sorry. I’ve just been busy recently,” you lie.

“Busy with Shikamaru?” Kiba asks, letting jealousy get the best of him. How fucking stupid.

“Why,” you ask with a sly smile, still very nervous. “Are you jealous, Kiba?”

Kiba gives you a double take, blushing at what you just said, the color of his cheeks matching his markings. “No no not at all. I-i’m just saying you guys are hanging out a lot recently. Didn’t know if you guys had a thing or something. I mean, I didn’t peg him to be your type, honestly,” he says, fidgeting with his own fingers.

“What do you think my type is, exactly?” You ask, leaning a bit closer. You don’t know what it is or where your confidence is coming from, but you can’t help but tease the boy. He doesn’t take the bait, though, only shrugging his shoulders.

“Yeah well, you’re right. Definitely not my type at all. He’s too quiet and laid back. You know I’m pretty quiet too, I’d like someone a little more outgoing to push me out of my comfort zone. Someone really funny, too, you know? A gentleman. Plus, he’s got a really big thing for Temari. We’re only been hanging out recently because he wants me to be his wingman,” you say, leaning back into your seat. You cross your arms over your chest.

“Wingman?” Kiba asks, again with his cute, furrowed brows.

“Yeah, I’m the one that brought Temari to the party. I guess I’m more of a wingwoman,” you say with a giggle. You look over, trying to maintain eye contact, but he keeps looking away.

“Oh okay, so when are you gonna start hanging out with me again,” he asks, leaning back in his seat. A stupid smirk plastered on his face. “Or is there more to ditching me than you’re letting on?”

You push his shoulder, admiring the feel of his muscle under your hand, only for a second. “No there’s nothing, you idiot. I miss hanging out with you.”

“Yeah well I’ve been missing you. And don’t tell Akamaru I said this, but he misses you too,” Kiba laughs. “If I’m being honest, I might’ve been a little jealous of Shikamaru,” he confesses. He knows you won’t judge him for saying that.

“Why’s that?” you ask, innocently. Your heart starts beating faster at the thought that Kiba is jealous of someone else for stealing you away.

“You’re my girl,” he says, looking up through his lashes.

“Don’t say that, stupid. You’re being so mushy.”

“But it’s true, you are my girl,” Kiba says. He knows Shikamaru isn’t a problem anymore, but he can’t stand the idea of you being with any man. He needs to make a move, even if it ruins the friendship. At least then he would know he tried. He can see your blush spreading across your face. You are no longer teasing Kiba, he always comes back 10 times stronger, your lips held in a thin line. “You don’t want to be my girl?” He asks.

You squeeze your thighs at his words and look down, no idea how to respond. “I-,” you start, but it goes nowhere. Your stomach is spinning.

Kiba slowly places his hand under your chin and brings you to face him. “What is it, sweetheart?”

Honestly, it's easier for him to be this soft with you, having not seen you for weeks. It's like all this time being away has given him the courage to finally open up. You still can’t answer, but Kiba can smell you. Smell the slight arousal. Notice how you have your hands neatly folded in your lap, squeezing your plush thighs together. All he can think about is being suffocated by those thighs. Kiba can’t believe his own confidence, but he finds it harder to believe how easy it is to turn you on. And how cute you are.

He leans into your ear. “You know,” he whispers. “The only thing I can think about is kissing those pretty lips of yours.”

You feel your heart stop. “Do it, then,” you whisper back.

He’s on you in a second, lips molding together like art. His hand runs up the back of your head, pushing you closer into his mouth. You shiver at his touch. Kiba licks your lower lip, wanting allowance to fully explore your mouth. You part your lips slightly, letting him in. You can taste the mint on his tongue as your hand slides over to rest on his chest. Kiba’s breath hitches when he feels your delicate fingers slide up to his neck and back down to his chest. You pull away at the sound.

“I-I’m sorry,” you say quickly, bringing your hand up to wipe your mouth. He snatches your hand before it reaches your mouth.

“Why are you apologizing, cutie? You getting flustered?” He asks. Of course he’s gonna be cocky now, knowing you want him the way he wants you.

“I just… I don’t want this to ruin anything, I just…” you can't find the words.

“I want you, (Y/N). I can smell that you want me too. How long have you been hiding it?” Kiba asks. You remain silent. “Come here, baby, come sit in my lap,” he says, pulling your arm slightly. You follow his orders, always having been so obedient. It turns Kiba on to no end and he can feel himself straining in his pants. The thought of fucking you sensless in his car floods his mind.

“I’ve been lying to you for a long time, (Y/N). I don’t want to be your friend anymore,” he says, kissing the corner of your lip to your jawline and down your neck. “I want you to really be my girl.”

You whine at the feeling of his tongue on your neck. “Can I touch you here?” He asks, placing his hands on your hips lightly.

“Yes… please.”

His lips are back on yours, hands gripping your waist and sliding up slightly, smooth fingers gliding up your back. Your hands are running up over his biceps, on his chest, fingers curling into his hair. You can’t help yourself, having finally been given the chance to touch the boy of your dreams. You can’t help but moan when his teeth graze your ear.

“Shh, don’t do that. You can’t handle what comes next, yet,” Kiba says. He doesn't want to hurt you.

“I-I can,” You grind your hips down, causing him to groan in return. He tightens his hold on your hips. “Please Kiba, I want it, want you,” you beg. He’s silent and you become overly aware of the situation you’re in. Sitting in your best friend's lap, practically drooling at the thought of him touching you. You’re afraid you went too far.

He stares at you intently before grinding your hips against him again. “How am I supposed to say no when you ask all sweet like that, hm? Look so fucking cute in my sweater. Always act so innocent, but you want me to ruin you, huh?”

He’s rambling now, sliding your hips against his even harder. You go to kiss his neck, biting slightly, when he lets out a hiss. “You gonna let me touch you underneath this cute little dress? Gonna let me take it off?” he growls into your ear. You can feel yourself slick from just his words.

“Please, Kiba. Touch me, I want you to touch me,” you whine.

“Where, baby? You want me to touch you here?” he says, letting his thumb graze over the wet patch forming in your panties. You gasp at his touch, hips bucking into his hand. “So sensitive,” he whispers.

“Don’t tease me, Kiba.”

“I won’t if you keep saying my name like that,” he responds, canines flashing through his smirk.

Your lips crash into his again, his hands sliding up under your dress. He palms the plush of your thigh, squeezes your ass and drags you closer against him. You move your hips against him as he slides his hands up, slowly taking off the hoodie and dress in one go. You’re embarrassed to admit you weren’t wearing a bra, the cool air causing your nipples to harden immediately.

Kiba throws his head to the side, swearing under his breath. “No bra, baby?” He smirks, kissing your chest.

You shy away. “They- they’re uncomfortable… never wear ‘em,” you whisper.

His thumb swipes over your nipple and you arch into him. “They’re so perfect, you’re so fucking perfect.” He’s practically devouring you, leaving purple and pink bruises all over your chest, collar bones, wherever he can get his mouth. He needs to mark you, show the world you belong to him, claiming you.

“Kibaaa,” you whine.

“Whaaat?” he asks back, mimicking you. He smiles softly, bumping his nose to yours.

You become shy all over. “Can, uh, can we go in the back?” you ask. Your body is pressed to his chest, hiding yourself slightly.

“Fuck yes, we can go in the back. Go ahead baby,” he says. You climb back and cover yourself with the hoodie as he makes his way out of the car and walks to the back seat. Opening the door, he climbs in and notices the hoodie. “Take that off sweetheart, let me see my pretty girl.”

He's back on you in a second, kissing you roughly, pulling you against him while sliding his hands up your back. He gets you onto your back and rolls up the hoodie into a pillow. After placing it under your head, he places his left hand on your cheek, kissing you softer this time. More passionate. His right hand slides lower, cupping you gently and placing little pressure. You grind up into his hand and he can’t help but grind into the seat. Kiba is unbelievably hard, especially with seeing how needy you are for him. He kisses his way down till he makes it to your sweet cunt. It's a tight squeeze, but it's all worth it. He has been smelling your arousal for over an hour now, he needs to taste you on his tongue.

Kiba takes a look at your cute, lace panties, noting the wet spot that's formed in the center. “These are cute,” he says, toying with the fabric.

You’re looking down at him, trying to muster up the courage to say something. “Th-Thought you didn’t just give out compliments,” you say.

Kiba kisses your thigh dangerously close to your core and responds, “Baby, I would give you any and everything.”

His fingers loop under the waist of your panties as he looks up at you for permission. You nod your head slightly and he pulls them off in one swift motion, holding them to his nose and inhaling sharply. You clamp your thighs shut, shy from his action.

“You smell so fucking good. Open your legs, babygirl, let me taste you. Please?”

You do as you’re told and it makes his cock twitch, still caged in by his pants. The way you respond, giving him everything he asks for, drives him mad. He takes a second to admire you, your body, the slick gathered on that pretty pussy of yours. He slides one hand up your thigh, rubbing softly, while the other uses his middle and ring finger to swipe through your folds. Your hips thrust upwards as he pulls the fingers to his mouth, absolutely drunk off your arousal.

He groans at the taste, his breath fanning over your dripping core, causing you to clench. Kiba is already addicted to you, needing to feel you everywhere. He kisses your inner thigh, mere inches away from where you need him most. The feeling of his teeth sinking into the soft flesh sends a shiver up your spine and leaves your mouth hanging open.

Kiba softly kisses your clit before licking a stripe through your folds. He curses himself for not trying to get with you sooner, already addicted to your taste. His tongue teases your hole before swirling it around your clit. Kiba’s hand slides up your waist slowly as he works his tongue on your most sensitive part, your moans only spurring him on. His fingers slide over your nipple, pinching softly, and you arch into him, grinding into his mouth. He moans into you, the vibrations adding to your pleasure and you can’t help but squeeze your legs around him. He slides his other hand up to force your legs back open, while his other leaves your nipple to wrap around your throat. He squeezes softly.

You gasp and your hands fly down to his hair, wrapping your fingers around his brown locks and tugging. He growls into you, making you moan, “Kiba o.. oh fuck, please,” you beg, not sure what for. He hums back to you, the vibrations making you tremble again.

He pulls his face away, only darting his tongue out to play with your clit, while the hand holding your leg open reaches for your entrance. “So fucking good,” he mumbles against you. “Such a sweet, little pussy for me.”

Kiba enters you slowly with one finger and you pull his hair harder. He feels like he’s about to burst, but he knows he has to get you ready. Wants you to cum on his fingers first. You’re getting louder, moaning over the music, when he adds a second finger. Kiba curls his fingers upwards and finds your spot almost immediately, as if he already knew your body inside and out. With his fingers inside you, he pushes his face back into you, circling his lips around your clit and sucking softly. You wonder where he got such skills for a moment and it makes you jealous, which doesn’t last long, when you feel his hand slowly slide down from your neck to your waist.

“Oh fuck, oh fuck K-Kiba I’m cl-close,” you stutter out.

“I know baby, you’re clenching around my fingers. So tight,” he mumbles back. “Go ahead, cum for me. I need to taste you. That’s it, good girl.”

That's all you needed to send you over the edge. That neat, little coil wound up so perfectly had finally snapped. Your legs were trembling, back arched, and head thrown back. Kiba couldn’t help but admire your expression as you came all over his face and fingers. He slowed his movements and finally pulled his face away, sitting on his knees while still finger fucking you slowly.

You look up at him, his lips and chin soaked with your juices. You can’t help but look down at his hand inside you, watching the muscles in his arms flex as fucks you, before looking back up at his face. He leans over and kisses you softly.

“You see something you like, sweetheart? You’re clenching around me again,” he says with a satisfied grin.

“You just look so good with my cum dripping down your chin,” you say out of breath.

“Oh yeah? For a second there, I could have sworn you were looking at something else” Kiba mumbles, kissing your neck softly and curling his fingers again.

You moan at the feeling, “Please Kiba, I need you inside me.” You wrap your hand around his length and rub through his jeans.

“Fuck, baby, you gonna let me use this cute pussy of yours?” he asks. You nod eagerly, sitting up with him and pulling at his shirt.

“Take this off. I wanna feel your skin on mine,” you mumble quickly.

Kiba laughs back, “Yeah? Or do you wanna just see my muscles? You’ve been eyein’ them this whole time.”

“Maybe a little bit of both,” you smile and lean in, pecking his lips. He pulls his shirt over his head quickly and you run your hand down his chest, towards his length, admiring his toned torso and smooth skin. You unbuckle his belt to the best of your ability and he lifts his hips, allowing you to pull his length out. You’re speechless.

“I-I don’t know if it's gonna fit,” you say, without thinking.

He laughs, “Don’t worry baby, I’m gonna take care of you. And if it's too much,” he starts, grabbing your chin between his thumb and pointer finger, “you tell me right away, okay? I don’t care what the issue is, if it hurts, if you’re tired. There doesn’t even have to be a reason. You wanna stop? Just say the words, no questions asked, and I will take care of you.”

He slides his hand to your cheek, caressing it with his thumb. You nod your head, but he won’t take that for an answer this time. “I need your words, my love. Tell me you understand.”

“I promise to tell you if I need you to stop,” you say confidently.

“Good girl,” Kiba says. “Come sit on my lap, princess.”

You swing your leg over his, sitting directly over his tip. He slides his hands up your back, kissing your chest softly. Your hand reaches down and lines his length up with your entrance. You wrap your arms around Kiba’s neck and his hands settle at your waist. You begin to sink down on his length, the stretch painful, but good at the same time.

“That’s it, love. Slow, just like that. Doing so good for me, so tight,” he mumbles into your ear. Your head is down, struggling to maintain any bit of composure, and his grip tightens on your waist. Kiba hisses through his teeth when you fully sink down on him, your walls already fluttering around him. You swear you've never had anything this deep inside of you before.

“You okay, babygirl,” he asks, searching your eyes for any lies. You can see the love he holds for you.

“Y-yes… just so, s-so full,” you respond.

Kiba pulls you in for a kiss, his tongue exploring your mouth instantly. He pulls your hips back up before pushing you back down on his length, trying to find a steady pace. You melt under his touch and lean your head on his shoulder. Your moans sound directly in his ear and he can’t help but graze his teeth on your shoulder. When you whine, he sinks his teeth in softly. Not enough to pierce your skin, but enough to leave a mark. When he lifts your body again, he keeps it there.

“Come here, sweetheart,” he says, pulling you against his chest. Your arms fold in, hands left on his shoulders and your head remains next to his. Cheek against cheek. “I got you baby, so good,” he whispers, one arm around your waist, his hand squeezing your side. His other arm is pulled diagonally across your back, with his hand gripping your shoulder. He begins to thrust up into you, hugging you against his chest.

“You don’t know how long I’ve wanted this. To have you falling apart like this because of me,” he starts. Kiba pushes his head down and starts kissing along your collarbone. “When I saw you and Shikamaru today, I got so jealous, the way you touched him, the way you let him touch you. God, I’m angry just thinking about him touching you. Anyone touching you. I can’t let anyone else touch you after that.”

He’s full on grunting now, slamming into you at an ungodly pace. Your legs are shaking and your moans are spilling out, unable to control them anymore. The hand he has on your shoulder runs up the back of your neck and grabs a fist full of hair, pulling your head back. He nibbles on your neck and you can feel him grinning against you.

“You are mine,” he growls out, accentuating each word with a particularly hard thrust. You clench around him. You can’t help but topple over the edge again, your juices dripping down your thighs as you moan out his name.

“Oh you like that? Being told who you belong to? Look at you, baby. Always acting so innocent in public, but here you are, cumming all over my cock in the backseat of my car. You sound so fucking pretty, baby, taking me so well,” He continues. “Go ahead, tell me who you belong to.”

Your head is dizzy, trying to grasp on to anything as he fucks you stupid. The words coming out of his mouth have you shocked. The humiliation and praise all at once has you sinking your nails into his shoulder. “Y-you,” you try to start but only end up stuttering. “I belong to you, Kiba,” you gasp out.

“Good girl,” he kisses your cheek. Kiba can feel himself getting lost in you, and tries to hold back the urge to finish already. He wants to finish with you.

“I’m close, love,” he whispers. “Think you can finish with me?”

“Yes! Yes I can, please, feels so good inside,” you babble out.

He pushes you back, your back hitting the back of the driver's seat, and you hold yourself up with your thighs. Kiba wraps his hand around your throat again, squeezing slightly. You reach a hand down to play with yourself, but Kiba grabs your hand and puts it on his chest. You whine in response, knowing you wouldn't be able to form a full sentence anyway.

“It's okay, sweetheart, let me do it for you. You know I take care of you, don’t you?” Kiba asks, though he doesn’t expect an answer. Not with how blissed out you look. He rubs steady circles on your clit, his abdomen burning from holding back. Your legs are shaking and he can’t help but smile at you, the only words leaving your mouth being “Oh fuck” and “please.”

“Awww, you cockdrunk that easy?” He grabs your jaw and forces you to look at him. “Your pussy feels so good clenching around me, like you were made for me. You were made for me, weren’t you, baby? Fuck,” Kiba says. He’s never talked so much during sex, but it's so easy with you. And you obviously love the sound of his voice, judging by the way you flutter around him every time he speaks.

You know you can’t last much longer, the overstimulation from your previous orgasms having an affect on you. Your thighs are burning from holding yourself up. “Ki-Kiba I-” you try to start.

“I know baby, me too. Look at me, I want you to look at me while you cum on my cock,” he says, turning your head to face him. “That’s it, so pretty, doing so good for me. Taking me so well.”

You begin to shake, looking Kiba in his dark eyes, as your orgasm washes over you. He’s falling over the edge almost instantly, your pussy milking him for all he has, filling you until the sticky, white substance begins to slip out.. He pulls you into his chest and you relax against him, steady your breathing as he rubs small circles on your back.

“Such a good girl,” he says, kissing your forehead. You look up at him, puckering your lips for another kiss. He laughs lightly, kissing your lips, and pushes your hair out of your face. His hairs are sticking to his forehead with sweat. You can feel the slick covering your bodies, but don’t want to move.

“You want to be my girl, now?” Kiba asks.

“You idiot, I’ve always wanted to be your girl. I’ve always wanted you to be my boy.”

Kiba leans over and grabs that same green sweater, pulling it over your head and guiding your arms through the sleeves.

“Why don’t we go back to my place? I’ll help you take a shower… maybe cuddle and spend the night?” Kiba asks, hopeful.

“Yes, I’d love to,” you giggle.

He helps you put your panties back on and gets himself dressed. Getting out of the car, he picks you up from the back seat and brings you back to the passenger side, buckling you in and kissing your forehead. When he gets back to the driver side, you cuddle up to his arm and stay there the whole ride home.

Pretty sure I fixed any typos, but apologies if there are any. Also apologies for slacking recently on writing, just a full time college student thats burnt out haha :). Of course, will be doing my best to get some stuff out.

home run

a/u: It's finally hereee, baseball player megumi!! 100% took inspo from @withthegraceofthewind 's post here !! I wanted to have this out yesterday but I had such writers block whaaa. i hope you all like it ✧˖°.✧ mwah mwah xoxox // / photos are not mine, check masterlist description for header & banner credits wc: 6.2k i cannot write short things for the life of me lmaoo okay bye. tags: AFAB!reader x baseballplayer!megumi warnings: 18+ only!! not proof read. slightly soft dom megumi, use of sir, good girl, princess, pretty girl etc.. light spanking, hair pulling, very light bdsm, face fucking, use of toys- anyways you get it!!!

“Baseball?” 

You asked incredulously, raising an eyebrow to your boyfriend before he’s slumping down next to you on the couch at your apartment. “I didn’t take you for a sports person.” 

His eyebrows knit together for a moment before he replied. "Yeah, it's a bit surprising," he admits, "but I didn't have much of a choice. Gojo-sensei practically dragged me into it."

You chuckle, imagining the eccentric sorcerer strong-arming Megumi into joining a college baseball team. "I can totally see that," you say, shaking your head playfully. "Knowing Gojo, he can be pretty persuasive."

Megumi nods, a smirk tugging at the corner of his lips.

 "Persuasive is one way to put it," he says, amusement lacing his voice. "More like relentless. But I have to admit, it's not as bad as I thought it would be."

You raise an eyebrow, curious. "Oh, really? So you're enjoying it?" you ask, a hint of teasing in your tone.

He glances at you, his gaze softening. "Well, not as much as spending time with you," he replies, and your heart flutters at his sweet words. "But it's not terrible. Itadori can be a pain in the ass during practice, but the team is fun, and it's nice to be active."

You smile, his hard demeanor might hide it at times, but you've come to understand the depth of his feelings through the little moments like this. 

"I'm glad you're having a good time," you say, leaning in to rest your head against his shoulder. “and I can't wait to see your uniform.” you tease, poking his bicep.

Megumi's cheeks turn a light shade of pink, and he glances down at his bicep as it flexes beneath your touch. "Oh, really?" he says, a playful glint in his eyes. 

You can't help but giggle, enjoying the banter with him. "Well, can you blame me?" you retort with a mischievous grin. "Seeing my boyfriend all sporty and handsome in a baseball uniform."

He smirks, feigning a bit of reluctance. "Fine, fine," he says, rolling his eyes playfully. " but keep your expectations low."

The sun beat down as you and Nobara made your way to the bleachers.

The warm, dry air wrapped around you, carrying the scent of fresh-cut grass from the baseball field. Excitement buzzed in the atmosphere as the crowd filled the stadium, eager to witness the upcoming game.

As you climbed up the bleachers, you found a comfortable spot with a clear view of the baseball diamond. You couldn't help but feel a sense of anticipation. You’d offered to come to practice many times to support Megumi, but each time he shooed you off and insisted it wasn’t important.

Nobara plopped down next to you, fanning herself with her hand. "Geez, it's hot out here," she complained, trying to shield her eyes from the sun. "I hope the game is worth the sweat."

You chuckled, nodding in agreement. "Oh, I'm sure it will be," you said, a hint of excitement in your voice.

Nobara grinned mischievously. "Excited to see your man all sweaty and sporty?" she teased, winking at you.

You playfully nudged Nobara, trying to hide the blush creeping up your cheeks. "Well, it's not just about that," you replied, trying to sound nonchalant. "I genuinely want to support him and cheer him on."

Nobara chuckled, knowing you too well to buy your casual response. "Sure, sure," she said with a knowing smile. "But I can't blame you. Hard to resist a man in uniform."

Before you could respond you hear the crowd start to cheer, the moment finally arrived when the team emerged on the field, and your eyes locked onto Megumi. Your breath caught in your throat as you saw him. 

Your eyes couldn't help but linger on the details of Megumi's uniform. His normally porcupine-esque hair was tamed down underneath a black cap, although it didn’t stop a few strays from peeking out the sides and back. The tight long sleeved black sports shirt he wore underneath the white jersey emphasized his athletic physique. His sleeves were rolled up to the elbow exposing his pale muscular forearms, making your heart skip a beat. 

The thin black stripes running up the length of the jersey added a touch of sleekness, making him look even more dashing. You noticed the bold black letters stitched on the back, spelling out "Fushiguro" above the number thirteen. Your jaw dropped slightly ajar, thirteen was your lucky number. 

You had shared this little detail with Megumi during one of your late-night talks.  At that time, you hadn't thought much of it, just a passing conversation. But seeing him wearing that number now, it felt like he had taken your words to heart and made you a part of his identity on the field. You couldn't help but smile, feeling a deeper bond with him in that moment. It was these little things that made your relationship so special.

But the best part was the pants, you couldn't help but eye him up.  The way they hugged him, not too tightly, but when he turned his back towards you, you couldn't help but stare at his-

“Hellooo?!!” 

You blinked, snapping out of your momentary daze as Nobara's voice pulled you back to reality, her hand waving in front of your face.

Your cheeks flushed, realizing you had been caught staring. Nobara smirked, raising an eyebrow teasingly. "Lost in a daydream, were we?" she said, her tone laced with amusement.

You stammered, trying to find the right words. "I-I... Uh, I was just, you know, admiring how good he looks." you managed to say, feeling a mix of embarrassment and affectionate admiration for Megumi.

Nobara chuckled, nudging you playfully. "Oh, I can tell," she said with a sly grin. "The way you were ogling him, it's written all over your face."

You groaned, burying your face in your hands. "I didn't mean to be so obvious," you mumbled, feeling your cheeks grow even hotter.

Nobara laughed, patting your back reassuringly. "Hey, it's nothing to be embarrassed about," she said. "You're just appreciating your boyfriend, and honestly, I can't blame you. He does look pretty damn good in that uniform."

You peeked out from behind your hands, giving her a shy smile. "Yeah, he really does," you admitted, feeling a little more at ease with her playful teasing.

You turned your attention back to the field, where Megumi was scanning the crowd. Your heart fluttered as you made eye contact with him, and a warm smile spread across your face. You waved to him, signaling your presence, and he returned the gesture with a nod and a soft smile. Though he wouldn't admit it himself, his heart soared at the sight of you. 

Yuji came into view and threw an arm around Megumi's shoulder, you could see your boyfriend's familiar half-annoyed look. It was a common expression when dealing with Itadori's exuberant antics. Yuji waved enthusiastically to you and Nobara, and you both waved back with equal enthusiasm. His grin was infectious, and it was hard not to be swept up in his spirit.

A whistle called the boys away to the dugout for a final huddle before the game began, Megumi shooting you one last faint smile before joining the others. His team was up to bat second. 

As the game began, the excitement in the air was palpable. The players were making their rounds, warming up for their turn on the field. Your eyes followed each of them, but your attention always seemed to gravitate back to Megumi. When it was finally the home team's time to bat you couldn't help but feel a surge of anticipation. 

Megumi had a blank expression as he prepared to play, but you knew him well enough to see the determination in his eyes. After a few of his teammates  he was up to bat next. When Megumi stepped up to the plate, you held your breath, feeling a mix of excitement and nervousness. You could feel the tension in the air as everyone watched intently. 

The pitcher threw the ball, and with a swift swing, Megumi connected. The crack of the bat echoed through the stadium as the ball soared through the air. Your heart raced as you followed its trajectory, hoping for the best. The ball landed safely in the outfield, and Megumi took off, running with all his might. 

The fielders scrambled to retrieve the ball, but it was too late. Megumi reached second base safely, sliding in with a well-executed double. The crowd erupted into cheers as he stood on second base, looking focused and determined. It was an impressive hit, and you could see the pride in his eyes as he stood there, ready for whatever came next.

The game continued, and with each play, you could see the passion and skill that Megumi brought to the field. He was a force to be reckoned with.

You couldn't take your eyes off him as the game continued. The way he moved on the field was captivating, and you found yourself completely enamored with him. Every subtle flex of his muscles, every long stride he took as he ran past the bases, it all had a mesmerizing effect on you. The sweat that formed above his brow only added to his appeal. 

Despite the seriousness on his face, you could see the determination in his eyes. As the game progressed, he found himself stealing glances at you whenever he could. He couldn’t help but seek your praise.

As the game reached the seventh inning stretch, the game was nearly tied. Home team was only a point behind. You were filled with excitement at the prospect of a short break. You took the opportunity to make your way down to the field, eager to greet Megumi. 

As you approached the dugout, Nobara in toe, you saw him taking a moment to catch his breath. His hair was tousled from the intensity of the game, and a sheen of sweat glistened on his forehead. Despite the exhaustion, his eyes lit up when he saw you approaching.

"Hey," you said with a smile, reaching out to wipe a bead of sweat from his brow.

"Hey," he replied, his voice a little breathless but filled with affection.

"How are you feeling?" you asked, concerned about his well-being.

"I'm good," he said, nodding. "It's been a tough game, but we're holding up."

"You're doing great out there," you said, unable to hide the admiration in your voice. "I'm so proud of you, thirteen."

A faint blush dusted his cheeks, and he looked away for a moment, as if trying to collect his thoughts. "Thank you," he finally said, his voice soft.

“She’s also been totally checking you out!” Nobara chimed in from behind you with a taunting grin, causing you to shoot her a glare.

Megumi chuckled at Nobara's playful teasing and glanced at you with a faint smile. "Is that so?" he said, raising an eyebrow in amusement.

You blushed, embarrassment flooding your stomach. "Well, maybe a little," you admitted, playfully nudging Nobara to stop her from adding more fuel to the fire.

Nobara laughed, clearly enjoying herself. "See, I told you! Can't resist a man in uniform, huh?" she said, teasingly nudging you back.

You rolled your eyes but couldn't help but smile. "Okay, fine, you caught me," you said, conceding the point. 

Megumi's smile widened, and he gave you a gentle squeeze on the shoulder and leaned down to catch your lips against his own. It wasn’t like him to initiate pda but knowing you’d been checking him out from the stands gave him a boost of confidence. The softness of his lips against yours sent a shiver down your spine, and you melted into the gentle kiss. You wrapped your arms around his waist, pulling him closer, savoring the warmth of his embrace.

Nobara gagged with feigned disgust. "Well, I'll leave you two to your moment," she said, before walking away to catch up with Yuji.

You and Megumi pulled away from the kiss, both of you trying to hide your amused smiles at Nobara's playful interruption. "Such a mood killer," you said, chuckling softly.

Megumi nodded in agreement. "She really knows how to make an exit," he said, a hint of annoyance in his voice.

As Nobara joined Yuji, they exchanged knowing glances, and you could hear her teasing followed by their laughter about the romantic moment they just witnessed. You turned back to Megumi, a playful glint now hinting in his eyes as he looked at you.

“So you like the uniform that much, huh?” He smirked, pulling you closer by the waist. 

You couldn't help but blush at Megumi's playful remark. "Maybe I do," you replied, trying to sound nonchalant, but the glint in his eyes made your heart race.

He leaned in, his lips brushing against your ear. "Is that so?" he whispered, his warm breath sending shivers down your spine. "Well, I can't blame you. I do look pretty good.”

You felt a mixture of amusement and desire as he teased you. "Confident, aren't you?" you said, trying to regain some semblance of composure.

He leaned back slightly, his gaze intense as he looked at you as a smile played on his mouth.

“Well,” You say, your turn to tease. “I have always wanted to get with a baseball player, but only one from a winning team.” Your finger traced down his chest, looking at him through your lashes. 

Megumi lips twitched up with a grin, clearly enjoying the playful banter and forgetting to maintain his brooding composure. 

"Oh, so you have high standards, huh?" he replied, his voice laced with amusement.

You nodded, feigning seriousness. "Absolutely," you said, playing along. "I can't be seen with just any player. Only the best for me."

Before he could reply the coach called out, and Megumi's playfulness shifted back to his normal straight faced demeanor. The break was over and he was being summoned back to the field. He let out a sigh not wanting his time with you to end, but if you wanted the best player, then that’s what he would be.

He gave you a final squeeze before you returned to the bleachers with Nobara.

As the game neared its nail-biting conclusion, the tension in the stadium reached its peak.

The scoreboard showed a tie of 4-4, and everyone held their breath, anxious to see which team would emerge victorious.

As the clock ticked away, the home team desperately shuffled through players, trying to find the one who could secure that critical extra point. Each attempt came up short, and the pressure mounted with every passing second. Amidst the flurry of emotions, you glanced at Megumi, expecting to see some sign of nerves. But to your surprise, he appeared calm and composed, his demeanor unwavering.

Then, the moment everyone had been waiting for arrived. It was Megumi's turn – the final batter. The weight of the game rested on his shoulders, and the stadium seemed to hold its collective breath. Your heart pounded in your chest as you clutched your hands together, unable to tear your eyes away from the field. Nobara stood beside you, equally absorbed in the unfolding drama.

He made his way up and stood at the plate, his expression focused. Before the pitcher threw the ball, Megumi's eyes caught yours, and he winked. 

The pitcher wound up, and the ball came hurtling towards Megumi. With precision and strength, he swung the bat, and the ball soared through the air. The stadium went silent as they followed the trajectory of the ball. The outfielders scrambled to catch it, but it was clear that Megumi's hit was a powerful one. The ball sailed far beyond their reach.

It was a home run.

The stadium erupted into cheers, and you jumped to your feet, clapping and cheering with joy. 

Nobara cheered beside you, clapping her hands with glee. "That's our boy!" she exclaimed, her excitement matching yours.

Megumi had done it—he had secured victory for his team. You watched as he rounded the bases, a small smile playing on his lips. As he crossed home plate, he was met with cheers and applause from his teammates. They engulfed him and nearly lifted him off the ground, celebrating the hard-fought victory.

You tore your way down to the field, eager to congratulate him personally. As you reached Megumi, he broke away from the team and you couldn't contain your excitement. Without hesitation, you leaped into his arms, wrapping your legs around his waist, nearly tackling him to the ground. He caught you effortlessly, a surprised but delighted expression on his face. He chuckled, holding you close as you both shared a moment of sheer bliss.

"You were amazing out there!" you exclaimed, unable to contain your enthusiasm. "What was that?!"

He grinned, a mix of pride and something else playing in his eyes.  He chuckled, a low and husky sound that sent shivers down your spine. He pulled you even closer, his lips nearly brushing against yours as he whispered,“You said you’d only get with the best players, so”

You gaped, raising an eyebrow. “That was for me?”

His fingers traced delicate patterns on your back, sending a delicious tingling sensation through your body. "Well, I aim to please," he murmured, his breath warm against your skin.

You leaned back slightly, looking up at him with a sly grin. "And you always hit the mark," you said, your voice dripping with playful innuendo.

He raised an eyebrow, his playful smirk never leaving his lips. He paused for a moment, looking at the team and back to you. 

“Let’s get outta here, ya?” he said, his voice low and seductive. His fingers squeeze your hips.

“You don't want to celebrate with the team?” You ask, although you know the answer.

Megumi leaned in, his lips brushing against your ear as he whispered, "I'd much rather celebrate with you in private." His fingers continued to squeeze you, sending a thrilling shiver through your body.

You couldn't resist the allure in his voice and his dark gaze. The idea of being alone with him, away from the crowd, was enticing.

"I guess the team can handle the celebration without us," you said, your own voice cracking slightly with your own desire.

A sly grin spread across Megumi's face as he heard your response. "That's my girl," he whispered, his lips grazing your earlobe before trailing down to your neck. “Let’s go back to your place.”

His touch sent shivers of anticipation down your spine, and you could feel the heat building between you. Without waiting for another word, he took your hand and led you away from the field, the noise of the crowd fading into the background. You followed him eagerly, your heart pounding with excitement.

You barely make it through the door of your apartment, shoes being kicked off, nearly stumbling over each other as Megumi's lips attack yours. Your fingers tangle in his hair as you kiss him back with equal fervor, his cap falling to the floor while you're lost in the intoxicating taste and feel of him. The smell of sunblock and sweat mixed with his cologne filled your nostrils.

"I've been waiting for this all game," he murmured against your lips, his voice husky with desire. "You drive me crazy, you know that?"

You couldn't help but smirk, feeling empowered by the effect you had on him. "Well, I'm glad to know I have that effect on you," you teased, biting your lip playfully.

He growls low in his throat, his eyes smoldering with intensity. "You have no idea," he replied, one of his hands slipping under your shirt. 

The sensation of his hands on your skin sent shivers of pleasure through your body, and you let out a soft hum, unable to contain the overwhelming desire that surged within you. Megumi's lips left a trail of fiery kisses along your jawline, his fingers tangling themselves in your hair before yanking your head back, exposing your neck. 

You gasped slightly and arched your neck to grant him better access, relishing the feeling. With each kiss, each bite, he marked you as his, leaving an imprint on your skin. Your breath hitched, and a whimper escaped your lips. His growl of approval echoed in your ear.

You clung to him, your fingers digging into his shoulders, urging him closer. Before you could move anymore he peeled back from you, releasing his grip from your hair. His eyes were clouded with lust, cheeks tinted red from the heated encounter. 

“Bed. Now.” His voice was low. 

His commanding tone sent a rush of excitement down to your core, heat now pooling between your legs. You didn't need to be told twice, quickly making your way to your bedroom and clambering onto the soft top mattress.

Megumi was hot on your tail, quick to climb over you and press you into the mattress with another hungry kiss. Your lips part welcoming his tongue, enveloped by his sweet and salty taste. He settles himself between your legs, hips pressing into you in an attempt to gain a little friction on the growing bulge in his pants. You moan into his mouth and wiggle your hips in tandem, earning a low groan from Megumi's throat. 

He pulls away, leaving your lips chasing his for a moment before he pushes you back down flush with the mattress. His hands travel down your body, finding the hem of your shirt. You could feel his fingers graze the bare skin, and a soft gasp escaped your lips, fueling his desire even more.

As if in response to your unspoken plea, Megumi moved his hands upwards, teasingly inching your shirt off your body. Your back arched in response, and with a slow and deliberate movement, he finally pulled your shirt over your head.

You can sense the satisfaction pool behind his hooded gaze to see you weren't wearing a bra, your nipples quickly hardening as the air hit them. His head was fuzzy, swimming is the sight of you beneath him, swollen lips and big doe eyes looking up at him with a near teary expression. He went to undo the buttons of his jersey but your hands gripped over his, halting his movements.

"Leave it on," you plead, your voice coming out weaker than you'd hoped, but you could see the desire in his eyes intensify, an amused smirk playing at his lips.

“Fine, but only if you behave, pretty girl.” He growled, grabbing your wrists and holding them together with one large hand. 

You nod fervently as his free hand unclips his belt, yanking it from its loops.

“What do you say?” He snaps, grip tightening on your skin. 

“Yes sir!” You chirp, squirming slightly under his touch. 

He makes fast work of securing the belt tightly around your wrists. 

“Good girl.” He relished in the control he had over you, and the power dynamic between you both fueled you even further. “Stay.”

He lifts himself off the bed in one swift movement, and you bite your lip to keep from protesting watching him intently as he opens your bedside drawer. You feel your stomach flutter when he pulls out the vibrator you have stashed there. 

He turns his attention back to you, dropping the toy on the bed beside you, and his hands find your ankles. Before you could protest he was dragging you to the edge of the bed, earning a squeal from your lips. He smirked, hands now running up your legs to find the edge of your bottoms, fingers dipping under the fabric. Your hips lifted in response and he made quick work of discarding the rest of your outfit, save for your underwear, a wet spot now visible from your arousal. You could see the way his pupils dilate, tongue jetting out to wet his lips at the sight.

“God pretty girl, you really do like this uniform, hmm?” He growls, swiping a finger over the wet spot. 

Your hips buck instinctively and a gasp escapes your lips, head lulling back into the mattress. A sudden slap to your inner thigh causes you to yelp.

“Answer me princess.” His gaze is crushing, yet his tone is soft, controlled. He looks at you expectantly, long fingers dancing over your now stinging skin.

“Y-yes sir! Couldn't stop watching you all game.” You whine, hips twitching as his fingers trace around your hips, coming dangerously close to your throbbing heat before moving away again. 

He hums in response, pushing your thighs apart with one hand before grabbing your bound wrists and placing them above your head. You bite your lip with anticipation, watching his calculated movements as he grabs the vibrator flicking it on to the lowest setting. A dull hum fills the room. 

“Keep your arms up for me pretty, and don't close your legs on me either.” Again he spoke with such a cool composure it sent a shiver down your spine. 

Before you can respond he presses the vibrator into your clothed pussy and watches as you go slackjaw, eyes rolling back in your head. His dick twitches in his pants, straining against the fabric as his free hand grips the plush of your thigh. He grits his teeth, doing all he can to not fuck you right away. 

A drawn out whine escapes you as he drags the vibrator in slow movements against your clit, the fabric of your panties dulling the sensation ever so slightly. Your hips roll upwards, trying to increase the friction, but Megumi's grip on your thigh limits your movements. Watching you crumble so quickly beneath him has Megumi drowning in his own ego. His grip leaves your thigh for a moment to palm himself through his pants. 

He continues with the tortuous movements for a bit longer, waiting until you're a wristhing mess beneath him. His free hand is now tracing the edge of your underwear, teasing for a moment before pulling the fabric to the side and exposing your dripping cunt. 

He’s quick to push the vibrator to a higher setting, gliding it through your wet folds before resting on your now exposed clit. Your back arches once again at the new feeling, a shrill moan tumbling past parted lips. A low groan pushes its way from Megumi's chest as he watches you. You’re so lost in the sensation you don't even notice your legs closing around him until the vibrator is being yanked away and a harsh slap is laid on your puffy clit, eliciting a lewd cry to tear its way from your throat and tears stinging your eyes. 

“Legs open princess.” He coos, voice sickly sweet as if he hadn't just left a throbbing sting in between your legs. You concede with a whimper, opening your legs to him again. 

Before he went back to his game, he quickly undid the zipper on his pants, dragging the fabric down just enough to let his cock spill free. He let out a low hiss through clenched teeth, the discomfort of having it confined had grown to be too much for his liking, and a pearl of precum quickly dribbled down the length. You let out a needy moan as you watched, walls suddenly feeling very empty without him filling you up. 

But he was not letting himself fall to temptation, not quite yet. He gripped the vibrator again, but seemed to pause for a moment, as if he was pondering to himself. You whine, pussy throbbing at the prolonged loss of contact, hips raising in the air to grind into nothing. 

“Megu- Sir, please” You plead, batting your teary lashes. 

Your voice seems to call him back to reality, looking at you, expression unreadable. Before you could continue your whining he grabs your soft hips and spins you around earning a squeak in response. Your head is now dangling at the edge of the bed where your hips had just been, face to face with Megumi's throbbing cock. He grips the base, pumping himself a few times before tapping the sensitive head against your bruised lips. 

“Open.” He directs. 

You oblige eagerly, letting your jaw fall open as he pushes himself into your mouth. 

A strangled moan catches in his throat, one hand coming down to catch your face as his brows knit together.  “That’s it, good- hhgnnn- oh! God- good girl”

The sound of his moans mixed with praise sends another wave of slick leaking from your core. You wish to reach out and help guide him forward with your hands but they remain bound, now hovering just above your chest. 

You fight off a gag as he pushes himself further down your throat, drool starting to leak out the corners of your mouth. You breathe deeply through your nose, closing your eyes and forcing your gag reflex to relax. Megumi was overwhelmed for a moment, appreciating the feeling of your cheeks hollowing out against him. Letting out another low groan, he begins to carry a steady tempo fucking your face. 

The pleasure is enough that he’s fighting to keep his eyes open, but the sight is too much to not have his gaze glued to you. His jaw hung open watching the way his cock leaves your mouth covered in a glossy sheen of saliva, only to plunge back in while you hold back gags. 

“Oh fuck- fuck pretty, mmmnn- doing so good- ahh-.. taking my fu- fucking cock.” He muttered, dragging his index finger over the corner of your lips to catch the drool that threatened to spill down your face. 

A harsh buzz against your clit causes your body to jolt as he presses the vibrator against you with his other hand, catching you off guard. Tears prickle your vision but you can only whine in response, sending vibrations running through his dick that caused him to shutter above you and shove his hips into your face again. The way you writhe underneath him is almost too much to take, and the expression on his face is downright sinful. 

The combination of the vibrations on your clit and Megumi's sensitive tip prodding the back of your throat has you squirming, nearly sobbing against his dick. Your hips buck and the coil in your stomach begins to tighten when you hear Megumi growl above you. A few more pumps of his hips and he’s pulling out of your mouth, a string of drool momentarily clinging on before breaking away. He lets out a low hiss at the loss of touch, but he’s not about to cum just yet. 

You look up at him with labored breathing as your airways are now clear. He looks so good in that god damn uniform. His pupils are blown as he drinks you in, your completely disheveled appearance, cheeks dusted pink and tear stained, completely fucked out before he’s even stuffed you full. He helps you to sit up, catching your chin with his thumb and index and bringing his lips down on yours in another, more loving, kiss. 

“You’re so fucking beautiful, pretty girl.” He mumbles, barely pulling away from the kiss. You hum happily against him.

After a few more minutes of a sultry makeout session Megumi grabs one of the pillows from the top of the bed. You watch curiously as he places it down before once again grabbing the vibrator, placing it on the pillow. 

“Lay on your stomach princess.” He orders, slightly more demanding now. 

You part your lips as if to reply, but decide against it. Megumi's hands help guide you into position, laying flat on the mattress, bound wrists stretched out in front of you. The pillow stuffed underneath you keeps your hips angled upwards while also holding the vibrator in place, pushing against your swollen clit. Megumi positions himself behind you, admiring his handiwork before laying a quick slap to your ass, surely leaving a mark. You whimper in response, cheek squished against the comforter. 

Megumi's hand wraps around the base of his dick once again, giving it a few more pumps before prodding your wet folds teasingly. Your hips push back towards his in response, earning another smack on your backside. You yelp and he smooths his hand over your skin, soothing the sting.

“So eager.” You can practically hear the smile in his voice, his hand slipping between your legs and clicking the vibrator on, setting it to a medium thrum. 

A muffled moan spills out of you while you do your best to hold still. “Mmnnm- Please sir! I need it- ahh- ” 

He lets out a soft groan, pulling his pants down further so they rest on his thighs before yanking the loose fabric of his shirt up behind his neck, giving him a clear view. With his hands now free he grips onto your hips to steady himself while lining up with your entrance. You can feel the anticipation nearly beading off of you, another sultry moan escaping you as he pressed his tip into your folds. 

Megumi finds himself mesmerized, completely engulfed in the way your soaking cunt is basically sucking him in. As he finally pushes his way inside of you his head falls back on his shoulders, an audible groan bubbling up from deep within him as he tucks his lower lip between his teeth. You flutter around him, your own drawn out whine mixing with his at the feeling of your walls being stretched out and his fingernails digging into your supple skin. 

“Holy fuck princess- nnngg-god-” He breathes as he drags his cock out painfully slow before pushing back in, bottoming out as his hips go flush against your ass. “t-takin’ this cock so well. how do you- ugnn-  always feel s’good” He tries to maintain his domineering tone, but your walls coaxing him forward have him sounding downright needy. 

You can’t even formulate a response. The sensation of his thick cock dragging in and out of you mixed with the vibrator relentlessly pushing against your clit had you in another world. It was euphoric. Megumi watched the withdrawals of his hips before plunging back into your needy cunt, gritting his teeth. His body hunched over your own, one hand finding its way to the back of your neck pressing you deeper into the mattress as his hips picked up a relentless place. A slew of curses spewed from your mouth, fingers gripping mindlessly into the comforter unable to move from their bound position. 

The sounds that filled the room were filthy, skin hitting against skin, the soft squelch every time megumi's hips rolled into yours. You felt so full, each thrust causing your clit to rub harder against the vibrator beneath you and your silky walls to clench around him. Your stomach began to tighten again as you approached your high. The pleasure was bordering on too much, strangled sobs only able to claw their way out along with Megumi's name falling from your tongue. He was too pussy drunk to even correct you to call him sir, thighs quivering as he pounded into you. 

Without faltering his pace he moves his hand into your hair yanking your head back, just enough  to place a sloppy kiss on your jaw. His ragged breath is hot against your ear. 

“gonna be a good girl and cum for me, princess?” he growls, hips now rutting into you in smaller, rougher thrusts clearly aimed at grinding himself into your g-spot. 

That was all it took, you felt your jaw go slack, crying out as your orgasm ran over you like a steamroller. Your hips wriggle forward, trying to escape the buzz of the vibrator on the verge of over stimulating your clit. But Megumi's strong grip holds you down, forcing you to ride out your orgasm and relishing in the feeling of your walls fluttering on his cock. You’re nearly crying at this point, your whole body trembling. Finally he releases his grip and you lurch forward, only to be caught by his hands yet again and rolled onto your back. 

Megumi kneels over you, straddling your torso as he pumped his cock furiously in his hand, his own orgasm rearing out. You can only stare up at him, mouth hanging open completely fucked out. He lets out a lengthy sob of his own, curling over you as the coil in his stomach snaps and sticky cum lands in spirts on your chest and neck. His hips buckle slightly with each thrust and you can feel his legs shaking at your sides before he’s collapsing next to you. 

You both stare at the ceiling, just taking a moment to catch your breath. Once you both sink back into reality Megumi gently rolls over to face you, his fingers deftly unfastening the belt that bound your wrists. You notice a grin plastered on his face. 

“What are you smiling about?” You ask breathlessly, raising an eyebrow.

His grin widens as he looks at you playfully. “I should have started playing baseball a long time ago.”

©lostbrainlulu 2023

cw angst, jjk manga spoilers abound - shibuya incident and post shibuya incident so read with caution if you don't wanna be spoiled. f!reader, they're in an established relationship. hurt/comfort.

Every fifteen minutes you wake up to quell your own fears that Satoru is not sleeping next to you. 

You rise with a start, propping yourself up on your elbow, and immediately you turn to glance at his sleep stilled features. Not an eye twitch to be found, not a hint of a snore, just white lashes resting against his cheek while his chest rises and falls gently. 

A sigh of relief as you lower yourself back down to your bed, tucking your arm and hand under your cheek while lying on your side to keep vigilant watch over him but as you try to close your eyes, you realize sleep is futile. This cycle is going to continue until your mind finally registers that he’s here and the right side of your bed will no longer be empty.

You ponder how it only took nineteen days without him to make you question everything. The two of you have had longer separations - three years ago he was gone for six weeks, two months ago he was gone for three - but you believed until the day he surfaced from the earth itself like a mythical hero that he was gone forever.

Spiraling seems like a light way to describe what you’ve gone through since you stepped foot in Shibuya on October 31st. You told yourself you’d keep things together for the sake of your students and Satoru’s but with the chaos that has ensued, how could you? 

Thinking of what happened that day makes your stomach ache in a way you cannot compare to anything else. It opens a hole in your gut, one large enough for your mistakes and regrets to spill out of and there isn’t any time for that, even now that the man sleeping next to you has returned. 

The lingering questions keep you awake and you gently shift your position, trying to find comfort while still keeping your eyes trained on him. 

Were you the reason these terrible things kept happening to the people you love? Is your love a poison that taints and kills rather than a balm that soothes and heals? Everywhere you go it seems that terror follows, a path of bodies behind you.

You wonder if he came to the same conclusion during his time imprisoned with a huge question mark looming over his future. Perhaps he’s finally realized you aren’t all he imagined - a tarnished piece of brass that has fooled him into thinking you’re gold for far too long. Does he regret being loved by you?

Gnawing your lower lip, you attempt to ground yourself by taking in a deep breath through your nose. There’s no way you can answer those questions for yourself and they’ll eat you alive if you let them. 

The sheets rustle beneath him as he moves slightly, draping one of his arms over his head while the other rests over his lower abdomen. You watch for any other signs of discomfort and find none, his breathing still coming as gently as it was a few moments ago.

He has had Infinity on for at least the last eighteen hours and you don’t feel stable enough to be reminded of that fact if you were to reach out and try to touch him. You bounced off of him after approaching to hold him when the two of you came face to face seventeen hours and 45 minutes ago and the split second between impact and realization made you feel wounded despite knowing realistically you had no right to feel that way. 

There’s no telling what he experienced during his time in the prison realm and you feel selfish placing your own feelings about his uncertainty and level of defensiveness, disappointed to see the walls back up that you’ve managed to scale over the years, over his comfort and feeling of safety. He has to be exhausted.

You don’t just feel selfish, you are. Another realization you’re certain he’s come to.

You’re sniffling without realizing it, a warm tear running down your cheek and across your forearm in its rush to the bed sheets below your body. Rubbing the tip of your nose against the heel of your hand, you worry about disturbing him and decide to let him rest. 

It was earth shattering to potentially lose him forever and now you have to pick up the pieces hoping they’ll eventually make sense. Maybe things will never go back to how they were twenty days ago.

Rolling toward the side of the bed, you dangle your legs over the edge and move to sit up but feel a hand on your shoulder. Fingers gripping into your bare skin, smooth palm curving into the contour of your neck. A touch - a real one. 

“Where are you goin’?”

His voice is heavy with sleep and you snort despite the sniffle that breaks through the amused noise. The sound of him is so familiar you want to wrap yourself in it for warmth and comfort but you can’t shake the way hearing the note of fatigue makes you feel. 

“I’m feeling restless and wanted to let you sleep a little longer,” you start and he slides across the bed until his body is flush with your back, wrapping his arms around your waist and letting his face rest at the small of your back while he curls inward on himself until his knees brush against the outside of your thigh. You cry again, feeling his body wrapped around you. 

“Just stay.”

Guilt gnaws as you wonder if he’s only doing this to quell your anxiety, his eyes flicking toward your shaking hands more than once over the course of the day that passed. That same shaky hand reaches up to wipe the tip of your nose while the other naturally reaches behind you to ruffle his hair, gliding your fingers through the soft strands while he presses his cheek against your back. This is familiar and you want to lean into the comfort of it, to allow yourself to believe that things are truly the same, but you hesitate.

“Don’t leave me,” he finally says and although you aren’t sure he’d even be aware of what he said to you if you were to ask him in the morning, the desperate note in his voice makes you cry even harder. Your chest and shoulders heave with the force of it, your stomach turning as you finally decide to relent and stop self flagellating long enough to care for him.

Carefully shifting back into bed while keeping your hand cupped over his head, you swing one leg and then the other back over and turn in his arms until you’re facing him. He’s still in half fetal position and you notice his eyes are half opened, staring at you intently. Shooting him an apologetic half-smile, you sniffle and press your face into his chest.

“Never.”

Your reply is muffled by his skin. It’s cowardly, you think, to hide your reply so you pull your face away from him and slide your hand up his arm until you can cup his face in both of your palms. Tipping his face down, he blinks slowly and you repeat yourself.

“Never, Satoru,” you speak through a shaky breath. His brows furrow when he sees your bottom lip quiver and he pulls you flush to him, your legs slipping between his as they always do - a perfect fit.

“I know.”

His tone is gentle and he further tips his head downward to press his lips against your forehead, long fingers drawing small lines across your spine. Guilt rends through you, hot and painful, as you soak up every bit of reassurance he’s giving you. You’ve always been too weak, too emotional, too reckless - so worthless compared to him in all his god-like glory. 

You don’t deserve him yet he rests beside you, body wrapped around yours. He presses his lips to your forehead and gives you a series of gentle pecks, he turns his Infinity into something too small to repel you just for the sake of making you feel better.

“I didn’t mean to leave you,” he mumbles and you shake your head, tears continuing to fall. How can you make him feel as though he has to explain himself? “But I promise you that it’s never going to happen again.”

Looking in your eyes, he can tell that you are lost in your own head and he’ll do whatever it takes to get you back despite knowing that’s a task that will take more than a few minutes of talking to one another to complete.

“You remember what I asked you before everything happened?”

You nod in response to his question, the same nod you gave him in response to that one as well - too speechless in the moment to say anything else. The ring he gave you has sat neatly in its box since the day of his imprisonment, your grief making it hard to even gaze at the stone he insisted he picked out to match your eyes, much less wear it. Despite the uncertainty, this is the reassurance you need to know that he’s still yours unfailingly. 

How you can even still find it in you to doubt him is befuddling but you’ll mark it down as one more internal mystery to solve when you have time.

“Of course I do and I meant what I said,” you half smile and squeeze his cheeks with your thumbs. “Yes. A hundred times over, yes.”

He can’t answer all of your questions tonight nor can he make you understand what his life was like for nineteen days. Lonely, empty, and uncertain but now he’s in your bed. He’s in your home and your heart and your head and your palms and for a flicker of a moment you believe things will be okay even if the trouble is just getting started here.

“Maybe we should do it sooner rather than later,” he mutters sleepily, eyes fluttering shut again. “Get it out of the way in ca-”

You cut him off by smacking his chest with the back of your hand, an exaggerated huff of air leaving him. 

“Okay, point taken.”

You giggle and it feels real, like something you remember from another lifetime. Your legs intertwined with his, your ear pressed against his chest to listen to his beating heart. Once upon a time you used to hope you’d hear his heartbeat become erratic based off of the things you’d say to him - sometimes sexy, sometimes sweet - but now you’re just glad to be listening to it at all.

“We can talk about wedding plans tomorrow. For now, rest.”

He hums and settles in, pulling you even closer than you thought you could be.

“And you’re not going to leave?”

You shake your head, letting your own eyes flutter shut peacefully.

“I’m here forever.”