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SUKUNA R. LITTLE MISS SECRETARY
wc: 5.4k
DO YOU HAVE AN APPOINTMENT MASTERLIST
sukuna ryomen. notorious for firing his secretaries left and right—and despite the constant doting from your peers’ of this, you apply for an interview. if he wont take assurance in your words, what better way than to prove them—right?
warnings: modern!au, ceo!au, creampię, pssy eating, slight spnking, degradation, seduction, mentions of bawls, raw-doggin’, semi-exhibitionism, deęp-throating, filthy smut. not proofread entirely, may seem repetitive until updated.
[11:00am]
Ryomen Sukuna, infamous for firing his secretaries without regard for their backgrounds or talents. Their appearance—whether pretty or plain—held no sway; if Sukuna disagreed, they were promptly shown the door.
Gojo leaned back in his chair. Shoes kicked up on the table, rocking his weight to make the chair aloft above the floor in the slightest - before it clunks back down. "Are you sure you're up for this? You do know his secretaries don't even last a week before they're fired, right?"
"Or quit." Geto chimed in with an obnoxious slurp of his drink.
Gojo shrugged. "Exactly my point, even if he does hire you—I'd give it like a week tops."
It wasn’t as if you didn’t know–you were more than aware. And still, you chose to ignore their crude remarks.
Shoko, who had been silently observing the interaction, finally interjected. Her voice, a soothing balm, countered the mounting concern. "Gentlemen," she asserted, "I think our friend has had her fill of the negativity you keep putting in her head."
"Thank you, Shoko." You retorted, emphasizing her name with a sigh that mingled thankfulness with a teasing nuance.
"But I'm- you knoww, juust curious," Shoko persisted, her eyes searching yours for an answer. “What makes you want to take up the role of a secretary for him?”
Your friends' questioning looks prompted a brief moment of reflection. Why indeed? The challenge, the thrill, the chance to prove yourself? You knew the answer, but articulating it seemed more discouraging than facing the notorious Ryomen Sukuna himself.
Ryomen Sukuna, a name that sent tremors down spines, loomed large in the headlines. And here you were, recommended for a position under him. Why did you persist, knowing the outcome was likely to remain unchanged?
Your reputation as an efficient secretary preceded you, effortlessly navigating past employers. Your serious organization and unwavering commitment to schedules impressed every employer you’ve worked for.
Much like any employer, they clung to their stubbornness, refusing to acknowledge your skills or consider promoting you.
Why? Pure greed.
To make matters worse, you were never compensated fairly for keeping their businesses afloat. Instead, your hard work was consistently overlooked, and someone else often claimed credit for your accomplishments.
You begin to speak, recounting your past experiences, your friends gather around, hanging on every word. "Well, each of my previous bosses had their quirks. Mr. Tanaka was all about efficiency. He'd have me schedule his meetings back-to-back, with no breaks. Taught me how to manage a tight calendar."
Shoko sighed. "Sounds exhausting."
You continued, "Yup. Then there was Ms. Sato. Brilliant mind, but her focus skills were...lacking.”
Geto chuckled, “That’s a bit brutal, isn’t it? No mercy from you, I see.”
Gojo’s infectious barks of laughter echoes through the coffee shop, turning heads as patrons look over in frowns. “Ouch!” he cries out, feigning injury as Shoko’s elbow connects with a harsh nudge.
“Welll…it’s just that, I practically ran the office for her. It's pretty much where I learned to foresee everyone's needs and you know, take initiative."
"And Oh! Let's not forget Mr. Yamada," you spoke up with a huff.
“Uh Oh, not Mr. Yamada…” Gojo mocks teasingly, faking a dramatic gasp as he throws his hands in the air.
“Ah, yes Mr. Yamada,” you play along with Gojo’s theatrics, your voice laced with mock solemnity. “He was such a stickler for details. I’m talking—everything had to be perfect from reports to the scuffs on my shoes... So much that perfection became my middle name, if I must add.”
Gojo laughed. "He sounds more controlling than anything."
"More or less," you affirmed. "Though, each one taught me something valuable. That's why I think I can handle Mr. Ryomen. He's just another challenge to overcome."
Your friends shared glances, their expressions a blend of respect and worry. They understood the futility of doubting your capabilities. Your reputation for transforming challenges into triumphs was well-established.
“T’ah, Indeed, it would be a poor decision on his part to let you go,” Geto concurred, not once doubting your value.
“More like he’d be a serious idiot if he did.” Gojo said, his eyes rolling comically in a show of hatred for the entire idea.
“Besides,” you added with a smirk, “I’ve always enjoyed a good challenge. And Mr. Ryomen? He’s the Everest of bosses. Conquering that peak would be quite the resume highlight, don’t you think?”
Shoko’s giggles joined the chorus of agreement. “Truly, if there’s someone who can manage the notorious Sukuna, it’s you.”
Eventually, the conversation dove through a tapestry of topics, the cafe becoming a cocoon of your shared jokes and light-hearted banter.
Time, on the other hand—had places to be.
As your eyes landed on the plastic clock perched near the register. The benign ticking was a stark reminder that the afternoon’s grace period had expired, stabbing you back as remembrance of your planned afternoon kicked in.
“Oh my gosh- that clock right? Is it 11:30 already?” Your drink almost tipping over as you leaped to your feet.
Shoko’s eyes mirrored your alarm. “Isn’t your interview scheduled for 12?”
“Yes! How could it slip my mind?” A rush of urgency overtook you as you snatched up your belongings, the voices of your friends merging into a symphony of encouragement and last-minute tips as you dashed through the door and made a beeline for your car.
“Knock em’ dead!!"
[11:35am]
The name ‘COMPANY REP’ plastered on your phone’s lock screen, peering over as your phone flashed through your peripheral view. Feeling a wave of pressure as you read the name, it was Uraume, the representative for Ryomen.
Shit—you were still a good distance from the company’s location, about an exit to be precise.
Grabbing your phone from the cup holder, you tapped the green icon to answer. Uraume’s voice crackling through the speaker. “Hello, I’m just checking in about your interview for the secretary role at noon.”
You rose back from the steering wheel, as if it's inscribed in your memory to adopt a more formal posture as the cacophony of honking horns invaded the air around you. “Hello,” you responded, keeping your voice cheerful and composed.
“I’m on my way right now; I got caught up in a lunch rush.” You chuckled, hoping to ease the tension. “But I promise, I’ll be there.”
“Very well,” the representative said, their voice smooth. “I’ll be waiting by the elevator on the top floor when you arrive.”
Soon after, the line went dead, leaving you with an itching sense of anxiety.
For a moment, the thought of 'accidentally' skipping the next exit crossed your mind and boy did it sound good right about now.
But could you honestly deny the interest that lit within you? What might lay beyond those translucent doors—an opportunity for a fresh start, perhaps? Or was it the hand of destiny at play? Regardless, you stood ready for whatever awaited you.
[11:57am]
The clock in your head seemed to tick impatiently as you rushed toward the imposing glass doors of the corporation. Your interview was scheduled for noon, and you were already cutting it dangerously close.
You dashed through the revolving doors, the sound of your heels punctuating the quiet of the marble lobby. Approaching the front desk, as you requested a temporary ID pass. “Good afternoon, I’m here for the secretary position interview at 12 p.m.”
“Oh yeah! Uraume mentioned your appointment. Here’s your guest pass. The elevator to your left will take you straight to the top floor,” the receptionist replied.
“Thank you kindly,” you responded with a gracious smile.
“No problem, I’ll inform Uraume that you’re on your way up.” she added.
Pass in hand, you pivoted toward the elevator. The cool marble underfoot seemed to resonate with the flutter of nerves within you. The rhythmic click of your heels on the stone served as a metronome to your thoughts, each step a beat closer to a potentially life-changing interview.
The elevator was a sleek, modern contraption, its steel doors reflecting your anxious expression. You pressed the button for the top floor, and as the doors slid shut, you were enclosed in a small, quiet world. The only sound was the tinny melody of the elevator, a constant drone that mirrored your heart's unkempt thump.
As the elevator climbed, thoughts tumbled through your mind. Was stepping into this role the correct move? With the odds stacked against success, what made you different? Doubts swirled in your mind, each one more insistent than the last.
Soon, the elevator came to a lurching stop, and you were pulled from your thoughts. As doors slid open, you were greeted by the sight of Uraume, whose presence was like a beacon, cutting through the fog of your doubts.
Well shit, no turning back now.
Emerging from the elevator your eyes met with Uraume’s. Their face gave nothing away, yet their voice carried a note of caution. "I’d advise you to mind your words with Mr. Ryomen. He has little patience for ignorance."
You hummed with a tentative nod, you seemed to be endlessly made aware of Mr. Ryomen's reputation. Especially since your friends found out you were going to this interview—not a second went by where they didn’t bring it up. You felt as if you understood more than anyone how some barely lasted a day.
With a determined pep in your step, you proceeded down the dimly lit corridor, Uraume's silent presence a step behind.
Mr. Ryomen or rather—Sukuna, was a man of striking features, no doubt. His salmon-colored hair was always impeccably styled, and his piercing eyes held an intensity that could make anyone’s heart prone to failure. His sharp jawline was accentuated by a usually neatly shaven face, and his tailored suits always seemed too tight around his muscular build. He carried an air of authority and charisma that was both intimidating and captivating.
His allure extended beyond mere aesthetics. As one of the nation's elite CEOs, his reputation was built on groundbreaking tactics and bold leadership. His guidance propelled the company to new heights of prosperity and influence, cementing its status as a powerhouse in the business world.
Sukuna’s popularity was not just about his charisma either; it was his professional acumen that had everyone vying for his attention. Aspiring candidates flocked, eager for the chance to bask in his aura and absorb his energy. Expectably, they fell short. Sukuna’s expectations seemed to soar to stratospheric levels, ones that even NASA would find daunting to align with.
And you’d be lying if you didn’t find yourself wondering what it could be like by his side. Waking up everyday with a pool in your panties—because you’d get to see your attractive boss calling your name by his side with need.
As Sukuna’s success and influence grew, so did his reluctance to admit the need for support. The absence of a secretary began to take its toll on the productivity of his team, especially his representative’s.
Snapping you out of your thoughts as Uraume halted just before Sukuna’s office door. “Good luck,” they offered, before making their way back to the elevator. You adjusted your form-fitting dress, a mix of poise and nerves. Taking a deep breath to steady yourself, you knocked with a dense one, two - three on the door.
"You may enter."
[12:02pm]
As you step into his office, the reality of the situation settles in.
Here was the man who had graced countless headlines, a visionary whose name was synonymous with success. Though, as terrifyingly lurking as the prospect was, you were determined to not just be another face in the crowd.
This was your chance, the moment of truth. Most of which people never got.
As your gaze met his, there was an undeniable pull towards the depth of his eyes, a fierce intensity that held a world of ambition and insight.
It's as if his gaze was trying to unravel you, like pieces of a puzzle, but you don't let it.
Sukuna sat there, the very picture of corporate elegance, his presence commanding the space around him. His scent, bespoke and expensive, filled the room with an air of dominance, while his hair, a striking shade of muted pink with whispers of black, framing his face perfectly.
Your heart races, but not out of fear – no, it's exhilaration. This is what you’ve prepared for, all those late nights, every challenging task, every impossible deadline you’ve made possible.
He caught you in the act of admiring him, a knowing smirk proud on his lips. "Enjoyin’ the view?" he tugs, before his expression shifted to one of business-like seriousness. "Uraume has mentioned your potential. It’d be best not to waste that."
The challenge was set, and the interview began.
“Thank you,” you replied, trying to keep your nerves in check. “I’ve always believed in simplicity.”
His eyebrow arched. “Simplicity?”
“Yes,” you said, leaning forward. “Complexity often masks inefficiency. A straightforward approach can yield remarkable results.”
He leaned back, intrigued. “Most people stumble over their words when they meet me.”
“You’ll find…” you begin, holding his gaze with unwavering poise, “that I’m not one to follow the common trend.”
Tilting his head to the side, his eyes narrow. “That remains to be seen.”
For the next few minutes, the interview wove through a conversation of intellect and subtlety. You navigated his inquiries with finesse, sidestepped the snares he laid, and even managed to steal a laugh from him. As time ticked on, a frisson of worry tinged your nerves, Uraume's cautionary words a distant murmur.
Sukuna's voice, a resonant timbre, stirred the air. His incisive gaze seemed to dissect your very thoughts. "Enlighten me, what makes you believe you deserve the job of working for me?"
You inhaled deeply, your reply sulking in assurance, "Mr. Ryomen, my expertise aligns perfectly with your needs. And when it comes to managing your expectations," you trailed, a sly smile plastering on your lips, "I have a knack for exceeding them in the most unexpected ways."
His eyes locked with yours, unwavering. "You're confident you're the one?"
"Without a doubt," you affirmed. "It's often the unassuming key that unlocks the door to brilliance."
He reclined, a contemplative shadow crossing his features. His stare never faltered. "You have a way with words," he observed, a trace of vindication in his voice.
"However, words alone are commonplace. Tell me, how will you demonstrate that you're more than just a woman with commendable references?"
You collected your thoughts, your confidence unshaken. "Mr. Ryomen," you began, your tone imbued with conviction, "I'm a believer in the showance of action. Grant me the chance, and I assure you, my performance will not only meet but eclipse your…high standards."
Wonder sparked in his eyes, a subtle smile embarking at the corners of his mouth. "Oh?" he intoned, the word hanging in the air, ripe with expectation. "Well then, I await the proof of your claims, Miss…?" His tone dipped, a whisper of question in the quiet space between you.
"Think of me as your right hand, Mr. Ryomen," you replied softly, your voice steady despite the intensity of the moment. "I'm here to ensure that your every need is met, with precision and a personal touch."
His gaze was unyielding, tracking your every movement, a longing in the depths of his eyes. He observed you closely, a silent notice of your boldness. The air between you was charged, a palpable tension that spoke volumes more than words ever could.
Without waiting for a response, you motion around the desk. Circling the desk with calculated steps, you maintained eye contact, now before him. Mere inches away from his face—the moment was ripe with possibility, the beginning of a partnership that could redefine the very essence of collaboration.
And slowly, you begin to unbutton your dress, exposing a bra with lace details that drew attention to your tender breasts.
"I'll be your right hand in the office," you murmur, letting your dress slide off your shoulders, just barely baring your smooth, supple skin. "And your left hand..." You trace his strong jawline with your fingers, savoring the slight stubble. "...whenever you crave a touch of pleasure."
Sukuna's eyes darken in covetous as he sinks in your intentions. "Impressive initiative, but it'll take more than that to convince me, beautiful. I have very specific requirements and expectations that need to be met."
Unpersuaded, you choose to escalate your lure on him. Feeling the firmness of his growing erection pressing against your thighs, you straddle his lap. Your grin - sluggish, your folds damp with elation in your panties as you hush, "I plan to take care of all of your needs, Mr. Ryomen. Actually—I intend to surpass them."
[12:30pm]
His breath retracted, as you pressed your soft breasts against his pecs and began to undo his suit jacket, exposing his toned, muscular chest.
Your fingers trailed down his warm skin, sending goosebumps through his body as you explicitly avoided the growing bulge in his slacks.
“Mmm, Mr. Ryomenn—I know you’re aching," you murmur, your fingertips tantalizingly weaving over his torso. "And I have just the perfect remedy to alleviate that stress. Shall I show you?"
Sukuna nods in agreement, his eyes broadening, feeling a surge of lust that leaves him thirsty. The curiosity about your limits conquering over his mind.
You slip off his lap, your body slithering to the floor on your knees, your lips forming up into an enticing grin. With slow, careful manuvers, you undo his belt and unzip his slacks, releasing his thick, hard cock. A soft moan escapes your lips as you take in the sight of his length, throbbing with urgent need.
You take the tip into your comforting, wet mouth, swirling your tongue around the sensitive head, tasting the sweet dribbles of pre-cum. Humming with delight, sending vibrations through his core as you take in more of him, sucking gently.
Sukuna's eyes just want to roll back in pure pleasure—a deep groan escaping his lips. "Mnh, is that tha’ best you can do?" His right hand rests atop your head, ghostingly guiding you as to respecting your pace.
It’s all just motivation, as you suck harder, taking him deeper until your eyes start to water from the intensity. You hollow your cheeks; as you take him the deepest you can go with a gag. Your head bobs up and down, your hands gently cupping his heavy balls.
"That's ittt—suck me, show me how bad y’wanna be m’ lil secretary," he grunts, his hips thrusting in rhythm with your mouth. "That fuckin’ mouth s’gon’ be the death of me."
Your actions are fueled by his words, whining in return as your thighs rub together nothing but static—yearning for some attention. You slip a hand through your panties, slipping a finger in your aching cunt, feening for your own release.
He observes the scene below him, almost studying as you multitask your way through the pleasure. Ensuring not a single strand of his clothing gets into contact with the filthy mix of your saliva and his pre-cum. Admiring the way you finger your dependent pussy, all the while taking him so deep down your throat, managing to slobber down to the base of his cock and swallow everything back up like it never existed.
You take pride in your work, and he was now experiencing it. In fact, if anything it turned him on more. He might even have to make you his toy if you kept on.
Sensing you're close to the edge, Sukuna suddenly pulls his cock out of your throat with a disgusting pop. His cock now drenched in fluids from your lovely torment. “Aht aht, Strip.”
You obey his orders without hesitation, his eyes roaming your body as you strip. Visibly tracing every curve in your silhouette. Fantasizing the things you might have in store for him, his dick twitches against his skin, swelling more and more each second.
“There y’go, stick that ass out f’me.” He stares at you - appetizingly, becoming ravenous at the way you're already hunched over his handcrafted mahogany desk.
In a matter of seconds, purely to provide him a better view.
You braced your weight on the edges of the cold surface. Pressed palms onto the glossy wood—hypnotizing him as you began to squirm your ass in his direction.
"Like this, Mr. Ryomen?" you spoke as if you were completely innocent, your lashes moving in a way that made it appear like you weren't attempting to play coy.
Maybe in another universe he’d fall for it—but not in this one. He delivers a sharp slap to your ass cheek, leaving a stinging sensation that only makes your pussy wetter. "You jus’ keep gettin’ sluttier and sluttier, huh?"
He snakes his veiny hand between your legs, thanks to the pad of his thumb, he prods at your delicate clit, reaching a soft whimper out of your throat. You attempt to clamp your legs together, but his big hands keep them apart as he proceeds to drive two of his fingers deep in you—instantaneously, without any delay.
"You’r so fuckin’ wet f’me." He taunts, his breath hot against your ear. "You like that, don' you?" His fingers slide in and out, his thumb continuously twisting at your burning clit.
"Y-Yes Sir…" you cry out, your body becoming weaker under his touch.
"Sukuna." He cuts off with a sinister chuckle, "Call me Sukuna."
You nod frantically, your hips doing all the talking as you mindlessly drag onto the lengths of his fingers. Grinning wolfishly, he moves his thumb in slow circles, working your clit. "Well, aren't you just a sight for sore fuckin’ eyes?"
"Oh my fuck- it feels so good nmmh!" you breathe out, panting heavily.
“Yeah? I bet.” he laughs, adding a third finger, stretching you out deliciously.
He drove his fingers sickeningly deep into you, your pussy canal squeezing around them, seeking for more.
His persistent botherence made you gasp for air as you fought to keep your composure. Sukuna leaned in, his lips coming into contact with your neck, delivering a forceful bite.
“Mngh–Kuna’ ts’ hurts! P-please I wan’uh cuhm..!-” You cried out, arching your back—grinding your ass further against him in advance.
His fingers gradually came to a quit as he withdrew from your neck.
Your expression crumbling at his actions, “Please- don’ stop.”
But Sukuna doesn't let you have it. He pulls his fingers out of you completely—just as you're prepared to dive over the edge, leaving you empty and writhing in dissatisfaction.
He then raised them to his mouth, never breaking eye contact with you. He savored the taste with an exaggerated moan, letting out a contented sigh.
“You’re so fucking mmhn- delicious.” he murmured.
“Please…”
Sukuna's lips formed a sadistic smile as he lowly chuckled, a mischievous glint in his eyes. "Please what?"
You picked at your bottom lip with your teeth, your thighs rubbing together like two wet sticks trying to starting a fire. Your pussy begged for more. "Please...fuck me.." you pleaded, your voice trembling.
"Not yet," Sukuna shook his head. "Get on the desk."
You hastily climb onto the desk, heeding to his instructions to avoid wasting any more unnecessary time. Relishing the brash feeling of the cold wood fatally against your back.
You’re embarrassingly exposed now—wide open for the man in front of you. The same man who’s about to search for your soul with his mouth. The same man who doesn’t plan on quitting until your dignities on his tongue–that is, if you had any left.
"Goood girl." He smirks, kneeling down between your legs. Forcefully restricting you from closing your legs as he peels them apart. You can feel the cool air of the room on your wet pussy. Shivering in anticipation as he darts his tongue out. Exploring every inch of your folds as he sucks them apart with hunger.
You possess handfuls of his hair—overflowing around your fingers, moaning as you draw him in suffocatingly. Fleeing your fingers through his strands rougher—when he hits - that spot.
"Mnghm–you’re sh’o fuckin tasty aren’tcha?" he whispers against your clit.
“Hnn…!” Unable to speak or barely catch your breath, you can feel your orgasm building again so easily, except this time you're not going to let him stop you.
He runs his tongue over your clit—your fingertips tightening in his hair as you hold him in place.
You feel his stubble graze your inner thighs, his hot breath fanning over your slick folds, making you needier. He provokes your desperate shouts for more - laughing at how the octaves in your voice only seem to keep raising. But you can't help the moan that escapes your lips when his tongue flicks over your clit.
"Fuck, Sukuna…s’too m-much..!" you breathe.
He’s good—too good at this.
He chuckles against your cunt. His fingers digging snug into your thighs, holding you down as he continues to entice you, not once letting up for air.
“Yeah? Mgnh, s’that why r’you grippin’ m’ hair so fuckin’ mmhnguh tight?—” He licks and sucks on your puffy clit—sliding two of his fingers back inside you, fucking quicker than he did before. He's devouring everything he can like a vacuum - drowning in your folds as he does so.
You're so close, so fucking close, but he still won't let you cum. You can feel the orgasm burning inside you, your whole body tensing up as you try to hold back. But it's no use, you can't fight it any longer.
Sukuna knows it too, and he redoubles his efforts, his tongue and fingers working in tandem to bring you to the edge. You can feel your breath shortening as you gradually get closer, until you can't take it anymore, your orgasm preparing to rip through you like a freight train.
"Please, Suh-S-Sukuna, can’ h-hold it gon’a…cumnnh!"
He looks up at you, a carnivorous desire in his tone. "Beg for it," he growls, his tongue melting over your clit again.
“Please, Kuna’, I'm begging you. P-Please let me cum…!”
He smirks, the taste buds on his tongue roaming faster over your cunt. "Go on baby, cuhm f’me like a lil slut," he murmurs, his fingers digging into your thighs brutally.
“Ahhnn–S’Kuna n’ cummin’..!” Your whole body quivers as you succumb to his charm, your orgasm overwhelmingly taking you. His tongue sucks on your pussy—gulping down your substances.
Descending from your euphoria, he begins to stand up. His hands, his face, his entire body—now saturated in your concoction.
[1:02PM]
Disregarding his shirt over his head and tossing it to the side. His pants follow quickly after, leaving him standing in front of you with nothing but his boxers. You can see the outline of his hard cock through the fabric, and you can't wait to get your hands on it.
Sukuna hooked his thumbs into the waistband of his boxers and timelessly pulled them down. You licked your lips in conviction.
He reached out and cupped your chin in his palm, his thumb smoothing over your jaw. "You want this job don't you?," he whispered, his voice clouded in vanity.
You looked up at him, and nodded—your eyes following his lips.
“Use your words.”
“Yes, Mr—S-Sukuna, I do.” He leaned down and kissed you, his tongue delving deep into your mouth. His lips were on yours, his tongue messily racing through your mouth.
You could feel the heaviness of his cock brushing past your leg, prompting you—of what was coming next.
“Y’gonna keep it all inside like a good girl right? Not g’nna spill any of it?.”
“Mhm! Gonna be a good girl, ‘Kuna..—” He placed his hands on the sides of your head as you laid back—the hard wooden desk becoming your only security. You could feel the heat radiating from his body, the scent of his cologne, and sex - becoming intoxicating.
Sukuna moaned into your mouth as you brought a hand below you and started to stroke him, his hips thrusting forward in time with your movements. He broke the kiss and looked down at you.
"Need’ t’be inside you," he seethed.
“M’ all yours, Mr. ‘Kuna…” You wanted him inside you just as much as he wanted to be there.
Sukuna grabbed your calves—hauling you towards the edge of the desk, positioning you so that his cock was aimed methodically at your oh, so—more than ready cunt.
He made a single, resentful, forceful thrust that went deep into you. You inhaled sharply at the newfound fullness, getting used to the feeling of his thick cock surging through your walls.
“Ahnn!..f-fuck-” you hiccuped as he started to fuck you harder. Inevitably slamming himself into you while lowering down to get hold of your hips—using them as leverage.
"Ts’like she’s made f’me," he grunted, his brows are pinched, the sight of sweat accumulating around his eyes, irritably blurring his line of sight. "Tight, wet, ‘nd fuck…perfect for my cock."
Sukuna began to roughly pound into you, each of his thrusts making you scream his name—resembling that of a prayer. His fingers now bruising into the flesh of your hips.
He was relentless, each stroke more forceful than the last. He made your legs weaken as he fucked you soulfully, the desk beneath you visibly quaking with each impact. Creaking with complaints as the legs of the table shook violently.
You wrapped your legs around his waist, pulling him deeper into you with each thrust. You could feel another orgasm ready to burst through, the pleasure coiling within your belly as Sukuna's cock drilled into your guts. You pathetically clung to him, clawing at his back for some sort of stability other than the shaking table underneath you.
The sound of your bodies filled the room as the noise of his balls smashing into your ass reverberated. With every thrust that brought you closer to the brink, you could feel the heat of your own need enveloping inside of you.
"Ahn…! Don't stop, don't stop, p-please..!-" you cried out, your voice hardly audible anymore.
So, of course Sukuna’s only response was to fuck you harder, his hips ramming into yours with a force that made you see stars.
“F-Fuck…y’r cunts gonna squeeze me f-fuckin dry..”
“G-Give it t’me ‘K-Kunauh…!-” You chanted in desperation. His thrusts became more erratic at your vowels, his hips bucking wildly as he approached his own release. You could feel his cock cruelly plowing inside you, assaulting everything in its way, leaving no room for pity.
“Hughn- fuck..fuck…fuck..” He reiterated, guttural moans dropping from his throat as his cock probed inside you, signaling his impending release.
You tightened your muscles around him, you could feel his cum filling you up, each second his cock rested in you, was another second that caused your walls to pulse tight around him, confirming—he didn’t finish until the very last drop. As he subsided you into your own climax, the nubs of your feet kept him still. Milking his cock of anything he had to give as you both came.
[1:29pm]
BRRING BRRING BRRING
Being brought into consciousness, the noise of his office phone pulls you out of your lucidity—your naked bodies sweaty and worn yet, still exuding warmth from one another.
"Fuck," he grunted, pulling away from you and reaching for the phone.
"Ryomen here," he sighs into the receiver, his expression glum as he listens to his receptionist's next words.
Whilst you hurriedly put your clothes back on, you maintain your eyes on him, your body still stiff from the unnerving orgasms he had just tore from you. Sore from the constant torment he had inflicted upon your insides like a curse.
A curse you hoped for.
"Yes, I know, but I'm in the middle of something right now," Sukuna said, his eyes flicking over to you.
With a smile on your face, you gestured to him to continue.
"I want it to be canceled," Sukuna kept on, his eyes never leaving yours.
The voice on the other end of the line stuttered, “But s-sir, it’s an important meet-”
Sukuna cut her off, his tone firm. “I said cancel it. I’m busy.”
“But Mr. Ryomen, the client…-”
“I don’t care.” Sukuna interrupted again, his gaze still locked with yours. His eyes were soft, a stark contrast to the harsh tone he was using on the phone. “You scheduled it, so cancel it.”
He hung up and tossed the phone back onto his desk without any thought. He smiled softly as he turned back to face you.
“Now…where were we?”
You couldn’t help but giggle, the tension from the phone call dissipating. “I think…we were at the part where you tell me if I got the job or not.”
Sukuna erupted with laughter, amused. He grins "Is that right?"
“Tsk–well, in that case...” he paused, calamity radiating in his charming smile. “Better start memorizin' the way I like my tea.”
You laughed against his words, your voice resonating through his office. “And how is that?” you asked.
“Two sugars, dash of milk, brewed strong. Don’t forget.”
“Two sugars, a dash of milk, anddd brewed strong,” you repeated, a cheeky smile on your lips. “Got it.”
“Good.”
TAGLIST (if tag isn’t grey, i could not tag. also if you keep getting tagging notifications the taglist keeps glitching so I apologise): @jotarohat @lxchlaouch @izuuzuxuzuzu @nyamocka @deepenthevoid @shitpostathon-nbpw @yaygurist @sadityb230 @qlorin @partr1dge @mikyapixie @ventila98 @aydene @kizzyxren @tananaxx @tojideckmuncher @httpstoyosi @is-belluvism @shinrjj @sephraee @c4rm1son @theiridescentdragon @spindyl @guacam011y @brianmaysclog @sexicherri3 @kukigirli @puran-poli @ilivefortheleague @freakquencys @6demonize6me6 @mmeharuno @domainexpansionmypants @mermaidian02 @no-regrets-just-confusion @qv4nx11 @seelevoellerei @iloveboysinred @hoesbeforebros101 @glossygreene @kivrumi @distinguishedlove @ssetsuka @thisuserdrinkslavendertea @love-me-satoru @tyke2219 @paprikaquinn @skunkfeet @suguruswiifey @oidloid
❝ HELL ON HEELS . . ! ❞
ᡴꪫ sum. it's your third day on the job as a flight attendant. you work around a lot of snobby rich elites, but a particular one catches your eye. a particular one who tips you $300 dollars in cash and wants way more than just your uninvited attention.
wc. 6.5k
warnings. fem! reader, sugar daddy!gojo au, this is how gojo and reader meet, mile high club trope, flight attendant reader, age gap (early twenties/early thirties), semi public sēx, praise kink, degradation, dry humping, squırting, spanking, edging.
an. thank u to everyone who voted for this on the poll <3
the low-pitched whirring of the plane’s engine was quite loud. white noise could be heard through first class as you walked alongside the aisle. with a heavy sigh, you’d just wish the day would be over. the overall duration of the flight was about a good two hours, not too bad but you were already over it. dealing with haughty a-list celebrities or elites as a whole wasn’t for the weak. a majority of them were rude, snobby, and just stuck up individuals. except for one . .
as thick pieces of rubber stick against your heels and clank against the carbon fibre floor, you sashay through and from the rows before a cheeky voice calls over to you. “excuseee me, miss ‘ttendant,” and you crane your neck to where it was coming from. sat right by the window near the left— draped in nothing but a sable-black tuxedo with a pricey g-shock wrapping around his wrist, he simpers. “do you ahh, mind if you . . ?”
“huh,” you quirk your eyebrows into a brow before he nods his head up toward the cabin compartment above all of the seats. “oh,” you give him a soft smile. he takes a quick glance at your name tag that’s glued on the left side of your blazer. you lean over against him, reaching towards the latch to pull it down. the more you get close to him, the more you smell his cologne. it’s so strong, you were sure it was some kind of expensive designer brand. a small grunt leaves your lips as you stretch before just when you’re about to pry open the cabinet, the plane grumbles with a rude shake. a rude shake in which you fall—right onto the older man’s lap who’s got the smuggest grin.
“we’re experiencing a bit of turbulence up here, sincerest apologizes passengers..”
the pilot mutters through the intercom— it’s blaring through the speakers. he talks for about seven seconds, as well as reminding for everyone to have their seatbelts on at all times before he stops.
as if things couldn’t have been anymore embarrassing, your face lands right into his crotch. “oh my god—i’m so sorry sir,” you try to atone, sitting up and as you’re up so close to him, you take a moment to actually get a good glimpse at the man.
he was pretty, simply no denying it. you knew him from anywhere. gojo satoru, the gojo satoru. the snowy white hair was a dead giveaway.
he was more of a well known business man—a ceo of some hot shot company. he had his own clothing brand, does lots of men photoshoots, and even modeled a bit in his early twenties. although, the more you gawk at him, the more it seems like he barely even aged. gojo looks like he was still in his twenties, he had a bit of a stubble but was quite really well shaved. azul-blue eyes return the stare right back at you as you take in his prepossessing features for just a bit longer.
god, he was handsome.
gojo’s hair was neatly neat, a simple slick back of a sort with a few strands of white hair running down his face. he brings a wrist up to his face to rub his mouth before covertly humming. “. . oh, am i that good lookin’, princess?”
you gulp once he catches you staring, and then it hits you again,
you were still dumbly laid on his lap as he’s gazing into your eyes with the most complacent grin. “i-i’m sorry,” you mumble, cringing at your own stutter. thankfully, it was probably about four am, it was a private jet and only a few other passengers scattered around the sectioned row. sitting up, you rub your neck sheepishly before sighing. “i . . don’t usually fall on passengers during on my shifts.”
“heh well i’d hope not,” he teases. “oh, and don’t worry about getting my luggage by the way,” and his eyes trail you down before he glances at your name tag again. “hm, i think i’d like to request something else though,” and the more you stare into his pretty cerulean eyes, the more you get lost in them.
his eyes were equivalent to a maze, you’re always getting lost in his pretty irises—never finding your way out. “you’re probably all sore from walkin’ around in those heels, how ‘bout you take a little break?”
and he was right. the entire lower parts of your calves were a bit sore, so you do. you take a break . . although,
your 'break' mainly consists of you being hunched over, propped up in front of gojo’s seat with him eating you out from behind like a starved man. your bottom lip feels all numb and puffed from chewing on it for so long. your lips part into an exaggerated ‘o’ as your head’s repeatedly being pressed against the back of the airplane seat in front of you. the softly made material rubs against your face and you moan. some older woman was snoring in the front of it, headphones plugged in both sides of her ears.
thank god, you prayed whatever heavy metal track she was listening to would distract her slumber from hearing your loud, whiny moans.
alas again, by ‘break’, you didn’t expect this but you weren’t exactly complaining either. with gojo’s tongue rummaging against your clit, it had you gasping for desperate various breaths. “s-sirrrr,” you whimper, a lewd smile pursing against your lips. two broad hands of his had your jade-colored business skirt pulled up all the way to the very hem of your torso— just about reaching near your now wrinkled blazer. as you sling an arm over the seat in front of you, you whine once his nose prods against your soddened entrance. “ngh, ‘m gettin’ close again i think. f-fuck, right there.”
“please, call me satoru, baby,” he whispers against your pussy. you shudder from the coldness of his breath aerating against your bare skin—you whine once his palm swats by your right ass cheek, giving it a mean spank. “ooh,” he coos from the recoil of your rear. so pretty, it was quite funny how things even escalated so quickly.
right before he was buried into the depths of your plush thighs, you were just chatting with him. gojo had a charm to him. he was a lot different from the other stuck up elites you occasionally dealt with. he was quite easy to talk to. you make it a habit to talk to each passenger, despite how snobby they might come across anyway.
with him though, he was a pure smooth talker.
gojo showered you with a plethora of compliments. it came natural, it didn’t seem forced—he’d point out your pretty eye color, your hair, just anything. with your job, you were used to getting a few compliments here and there—but he’d go all out, all out in a way where it makes your heart flutter and fly. you’re rutting your ass against his face, loving the way his wet tongue curls into a few alphabetic letters. he’s just filthy. each breath that escapes from your lips as if it was being held captive felt like it was gonna be its last.
“so . . fuckin’ sweet,” he purrs, dragging a thumb down your slit for a moment. gojo takes a second to admire the way you easily soak in his digit, such a breathtaking sight inside. lewd, but breathtaking. “mhm, look at her givin’ me a little show. move your ass against my face a little more, sweetheart. yeah, fuck.”
your heart does jumping jacks at his dialogue. his voice was deep, rich—and seductive.
the silvery band of his watch continues to skim all across your skin as your hips judder. you shiver, feeling yourself about to reach your inevitable orgasmic peak before you moan out loud. you tried to suppress your noises, you did—but it was no use. you’re already biting at your hardened knuckles but oh, his tongue.
every few seconds, he’d break away to spit and slobber on your pussy. his nose consistently smears all against your folds, getting you ten times more wetter than you already were. he’s nasty, making sure you keep that arch for him. your skirt was pulled up and all wrinkled. the teeth-shattering stimulation makes you feel nerves surge all throughout your body like galvanic electricity.
“s- satoruuu.” you’d huff out in tiny pants, feeling your tummy cave in a few times. your sweet moan, its like a tune—a harmony, hell, it was melodic. he’d listen to you whine his name like that all day if he could. a gentle hand of his runs down your twitching leg, giving every part of your body from behind attention.
he was starting to get addicted, you were too sweet . . candied even, it was dangerous. he’s always had a bit of a sweet tooth anyways and perhaps you were his new favorite treat.
the raving pace of his tongue was simply relentless. you’re gripping onto the back of the seat for dear life, barely able to keep up with him.
ethereal ivory lashes of his open and close every millisecond that passes. it’s as if time was going slow for you— of course it was though, considering how you were thousands of feet in the air. you don’t know why, but the thought of someone just walking by and stumbling upon you all bent over for a passenger,
not just a passenger but the gojo satoru . .
you’d be lying a bit if you said it didn’t turn you on a bit. you knew it was against policy to screw on the job, in the air at that, but it was the middle of the night and partly everyone onboard was asleep anyway. having some affluent attractive guy right between your thighs, you were living the dream. you thought this only happened in the movies.
“aw, don’t give up on me just yet, pretty,” he soothes a tune against your cunt. after a while, gojo’s speedy flicking of his tongue transitioning to pure sucks. you’re shaking within the suction of his mouth. it’s almost too much to bare yet you didn’t want him to stop. he knows just the right tempo to make you roll your eyes back too. with prying hands, gojo’s spreading open your ass a bit more to lick a deeper area with his tongue. you zealously whine once he playfully uses a thumb to poke against your puckering hole. “mhm, yeah. thaaaat’s it, but don’t be so loud though, princess. i know we’re in the back row but still, heh.”
and with that— he gifts your ass another smack. he proudly relishes in your lewd, pornographic reactions. you’re an entire mess and he’s slurping your fervor shamelessly.
“s- satoruuuu, fuck f-fuck,” your breathing starts to significantly pick up. with your chest continuing to sink in and out, he briefly sneaks his dampened lips away from your entrance to bite near your thighs. the way you were shaking to him was just so cute. the white noise that continues to sing and reverb throughout the plane’s structure grew louder. or . . that was just the ringing through your ears—regardless, it was between that noise and the sounds of your own obscene pleasure that had a competition. a competition on who could be the most louder. your name-tag that’s still pressed against your blazer remains to rub off against the fabric of the seat in front of you.
your perked nipples snag in the process as you’re arching a bit more before a wail dies out your throat. “i- i’m gonna cu— oh!”
“another few hits of turbulence, folks. please stay in your seatbelts. time of arrival should be around six thirty am..”
you bring a hand over your mouth in a cute attempt to silence yourself as you’re meeting your high—listening to the pilot, you sob out a squeal from the inside of your palm. gojo’s slurping you up again with his tongue, your grinding against his face makes him chuckle. with his jaw tightening a bit, he doesn’t care—you were so sweet, he could eat you out all day. not to mention, he was quite thirsty. instead of having you retrieve one of his bags, he was gonna originally ask for a glass of water. but this quenched his thirst a lot better in his humblest opinion. his warm breath fans against your cunt all the while you feel his stubble tickle near the undersides of your thighs. “mmph.” you moan, peeking in front of you to still see the old lady knocked out cold. with the way you were rocking into the back of her seat— you were surprised she didn’t wake up. you were glad she didn’t though. otherwise, you’d embarrass yourself yet again.
with your orgasm still having its moment, you start to calm down a bit. he’s still slithering his tongue down your folds, savoring your taste as if it’s the last thing on the planet. his chin was coated with all of your slick, and he snickers before dragging a thumb to get another taste. “good girl. give it to me, ride my—ride my tongue, uh huhhh.”
a swarm of butterflies wanders around inside of your tummy from his words—his tone, it was so soft yet the dialogue that spoke out was just downright dirty. you pulse between your thighs and it only makes you crave him more.
as you’re still arched over in front of him, you take a few hard gulps to swallow as you’re finishing your perfect nirvana state. ecstasy, just ecstasy overtakes your entire body as he gives your pussy it’s final sucks and nibbles. once he finishes, he’s still sat in his chair. spinning you around, he gives you a warm smile.
“c’mere, sweetheart..”
out of breath and pants snatching out of your full lungs with ease—you move into him with your eyes half-lidded. “. . . atta girl, taste how sweet you are. gimme a kiss,” and you get on top of him. sliding off your heels, you get onto gojo’s lap. now straddling him, you lean into a steamy, hot kiss. two hefty built arms of his wrap around your waist, pulling you in close. once your lips meet, it’s just utterly sloppy.
throwing your arms around him and tugging on his tucked out collar, you deepen the kiss. he groans at your enthusiasm, allowing his hands to glide against every inch of your body. gojo’s fingertips dance against the pieces of clothing you wore, despite it being so few. your blazer was still on and yet couldn’t help but rock against his lap as your tongue parts inside of his mouth. gojo’s head leans back as you’re enjoying yourself. but all of a sudden, you moan once you feel it.
his boner, right in the middle part of his pants. gojo satoru was hard—hard for you.
he grunts lowly, a hand of his snaking up your leg as you taste the sweet remnants of your own flavor on his tongue. the closer you are to him, the closer you get a nice everlasting sniff of his cologne. so manly, it’s a rich scent that you could never get enough of. it was so strong—roaming through the air so much that it almost gave you a headache.
“fuck,” he sibilates. a single hissing word that comes from his mouth makes you throb oh so easily. you’re swaying your hips against him and his adam’s apple bobs back in rapture. every few seconds, he pulls away to leave a wet slope of kisses down your neck. a hand of yours tugs against his tie that was neatly worn on him. “damn girl you’re kinda kinky,” and he finally pulls away, teasingly biting on your bottom lip before finally departing. “i’m startin’ to like you.”
“more,” you murmur, leaning in to nip a wet kiss of your own near the crooked crevices of his mouth. naturally parted lips of his twitch, causing him to wryly smile back at you. “i need more, sir. we have a few more hours left. please.”
“baby, you can call me satoru. cut the formal shit yeah?” and his voice was a pitchy low, an almost rasp hidden underneath. a hand of his gently grabs your chin and you’re met with the most prettiest eyes. if it wasn’t his long lashes, it was his celestially blue eyes. so blue that it was as if you were star gazing at a summer sky. gojo satoru a pretty man, no doubt. he hums to himself in amusement at your cute doe-eyed expression, hungry for more. sitting on his boner was already torture enough, you just wanted him inside.
sure, you were technically working but you didn’t care about that. “satoruuuu,” he’s being playful, a thumb still pulling down your bottom lip. as you’re both maintaining such intimate eye contact, his voice softens once more. gojo’s hand slides its way between your thighs before he raises a brow in a taunting manner. “what do you want satoru to do to you? tell me, girl.”
“t- touch me.” you almost whine out, it yanks out from your throat so pathetically. the throbbing you were feeling behind your panties only turned into straight convulses.
playfully, he tilts his head with a smile. “yeah? touch ya where.”
“i gotta spell it out for you?” you pout, and he chuckles at your frustrated attitude. you start to jerk your hips against his lap and he holds your waist in place to bring those movements to a stop. “f-fuck, ‘s hard.”
stroking a thumb against your quivering lips, his minty breath hits against your nose—you smell it and it’s minty fresh. a scent of what seemed to be some kind of tangy beverage and a gum like substance. with a mocking tone, he presses a kiss against your nose before jibing. “i just wanna know where ‘m gonna put my hands on this pretty body. that’s all,” and his voice was so smooth, an almost purr. with a chortle, he moves a few strands of hair out of your view of sight before continuing his words. “now now, i’ll ask again, pretty. where do ya want me to touch you? let’s be descriptive this time.”
“between my t-thighs,” you confess, already soaked from him devouring your pussy just merely seconds ago. the shocking friction between both bodies had you feral, had you dizzy, had you stupid.
gojo gradually brings a hand down before you press a hand against his chest, pouting again. “actually, i want you to fuck me. please, satoru.”
“there we go, good girl. ‘n heh, aw i figured,” he cheeses, licking a single stripe up your neck. “mhm, you’ll have to ride me though. ‘s only so many positions you can do on a plane, heh.”
you barely let him finish your sentence before you start to unbuckle his pants. you’re so quick with it. gojo stares at the way you’re so desperate, taking it off the tiny hooks before yanking his belt all the way off. seconds later, you’re pulling down his pants toward his ankles. “ooh,” his eyes flicker towards your chest as you start to align yourself against his lap. you take a moment to stare at his now exposed cock and it was so pretty. lengthy if anything, a leaky mushroom like tip that was a bit reddened. he was so hard too, just gawking at his heavyset bulge that had you almost drooling. gojo leans back, rubbing against his thigh before flashing you a cheesy smile. “wellllll,” he sings. “don’t be shy girl. get on up here. ride all that stress away from work, pretty thing.”
he was so cocky, yet you were so needy.
as you’re still aligning him, your damp entrance rubs off against the head of his tip. it’s peeling open a bit, the skin that attaches to the frenulum was just so mesmerizing to look at. it’s got a pinkish color, almost red. shortly following, a mere tannish color flushes on his cock near the base down. you moan once he grabs ahold of his length, helping you adjust.
“easy . . easy baby, i gotcha,” he sighs, feeling your warmth slowly swallow him whole. those short seconds you spend taking in gojo’s dick feels like long, consecutive hours.
you’re dripping wet. as you straddle his lap, preparing to ride him, he slouches back in such a sexy way. manspread—gojo grunts out a single breath as his chest deflates. shifting his gaze towards your cunt, he spreads open your folds to get a better view. “ughhh, look at how she opens up for me. ‘s fuckin’ nasty,” he groans, staring dead at your cunt. you were indeed coating him with your slick from the base down. “give it to me, upside daisey, yeah.”
you’re taking his inches as the seconds go by before after a while—you plop down, feeling him bottom out already. gojo moans, gifting your ass with another spank. “f-fuck ‘toru,” you hiss, knowing that was a non-verbal sign for you to start up your hips. a cooling air that passes through the plane sets against your skin as you move. you whine, feeling his hands trickle alongside the secretive edges of your thighs. “touch me more, l- like that.”
“i don’t remember saying you could tell me what to do,” he meets your eyes as you start to thrust forward. he’s got the most impish grin stretching against his lips. gojo grips your chin for what was probably the nth time within this hour before he grins. “nuh uh, don’t look away. i wanna see those gorgeous eyes,” and he sneaks another wet kiss against your mouth. “ride it like you own it baby.”
you start off realllll slow,
sashaying your hips up and down against his lap in the most alluring way. all six eyes were on you and only you..
your arms still wrap around him and he’s keeping eye contact with you the entire time. with your blazer practically ruffled and wrinkled, you continue to move yourself against him. gojo’s cock stretches you out in such a way you didn’t even know was possible. your walls craved him, you craved him.
as he leans further back, a hand’s still glued to your ass before he smacks it . . again.
he pats it afterwards, watching a cute sour expression slowly marinate against your facial features.
gojo giggles at your cute noises, it doesn’t take long before you bury your face into the crook of his neck, gnawing your teeth against his collared shirt. “f-fuck, satoru,” you’d whine out, feeling his grip tighten against your ass. his cologne’s got your head spinning like a merri-go-round, giving you whiplash in all the right ways. “s-so big, stretchin’ me.”
“takin’ it so good, baby,” he licks against the lobe of your ear. his breath against your neck was warm—not so cold anymore. two rough hands grasp onto your active hips, encouraging you to go more forward, more faster. “good girl, mhm, fuck me like that. use those hips for me, yeahh.”
his dick curves through every part of your walls as if it’s exploring. you feel him reach deep within every part and it’s driving you toward the first street of crazy.
breathy pants skate out from your lips as you’re swinging yourself back and forth against him. “s-satoru,” you whimper, feeling his hands continue to feel against the bare bottom parts of your ass. you could feel the bands of rings he wore rub off against your skin also, so fridgly cold. “f-fuck, ‘s good. mhm, fuck.”
“you’re so pretty,” he groans, the brief sounds of skin slapping resounding through your ears. it’s loud, almost sonorous.
his hair was getting a bit ruffled and unkempt, adding to his suave, mature features.
as he looks off into the nearly empty dim lit aisle, a silhouette appears—someone’s coming. it’s a familiar sound of heels hitting against the floor and you were too occupied of being horny to turn your head. at first, you barely even notice as you’re still grinding against his lap. “oh shit,” gojo gasps, grabbing the sides of your hips, suddenly bringing you to a stop. with a sly smile, he hums against your ear. “baby, don’t freak but i think your co-worker’s coming.”
“w- what?” you murmur, and he makes you spin around, still having his heavy cock hidden into the swollen depths of your cunt. glancing up, it was one of your co-workers coming. in a weak attempt to fix your nearly messed up blazer that was about to pop, you lean against his chest. “who— where?”
as he’s pressed right up against you, you’re met with a playful deep voice against your ear. “relax. act like you’re totally not cockwarming me, obviously,” and he runs a few fingers down your uniform, feeling you shift your hips a bit at his touch. gojo tries to make it look like you were just sitting on his lap, moving a cover over you and him from the waist down. you feel so full, you were growing more and more needy, a pout comes onto your lips because you didn’t want to stop so abruptly. you just wanted to keep riding him, but of course—you were working. “play it cool, baby.”
“um, is everything okay?” one of your fellow co-worker flight attendants, serena murmurs.
with a furrowing brow, she takes in the sight in front of her. you, happily straddling a passenger's lap whilst you’re heaving as if you’d just finish a 5k race. “we’ve been some getting complaints about noises. also, you need to restock the snacks near back. we’re runnin’ low on peanuts.”
“y-yeah, ‘m fine,” you sheepishly nod, knowing how fishy this entire scene might have looked. gojo’s dick was just idly enshrouded into your cunt, just one move and you’d be fucked. technically, you already were fucked. he’s tracing a finger against your thighs before you exhale. “but uh— can’t you restock?”
“i would but that’s not my job,” she snaps with an eye roll. gojo chortles at your co-worker’s attitude, he presses a single kiss against your neck and you almost moan. her facial expressions twist in disgust before she backs away. “anyways, just go restock,” and as she twists her heels to walk away, she utters under her breath. “weirdos. i don’t get paid enough for this shit.”
gojo lets out a breathy laugh as you finally moan again—it’s taking everything out of you and you start up the jolting of your hips again. “f-fuck, ‘m close, ‘toru,” you whimper, the friction feeling like hot static dragging against your legs. “mhm, ‘s good.”
“you’re even more dirtier than i thought, princess,” he whispers, a hand playfully wrapping around your throat as you’re moving your hips back. “i bet your co-worker put two ‘n two together. you could have been a little more believable.”
you’re moaning, his touch sending you more deadly shivers before you feel a coil within you squeeze shut tight. the beat of your heat grows rapid and your pupils dilate from pure pleasurable lust. you’re getting close again, it’s coming so quick that you barely have any time to breathe.
his aromatic cologne nearly blinds your sinuses before you feel against his neck with your palm. “i . . i don’t care if she knows,” you mumble with a scowl, feeling his base continuously rub against your entrance. you’re coating him with nothing but a pretty viscous sheet of your slick. “fuck, ‘m gonna cum again.”
“yeah? what if i want you to wait?” he purrs, his sloping trail of kisses turning into sucks. you whine, leaning into his touch as he’s stuffing your insides full of thick cock. jello—your legs felt like jello, barely even able to move. the warmth against him had you hungry for more. it was addictive, you didn’t know what it was. you didn’t get like this for any other passenger, yet here you were. your mouth croons open, whining out a single harmony at his pace. he’s still making you grind back against him, the tempo having your head going for a spin every time. “what if i want you to be a good attendant ‘n wait just a bit longer f’me?”
“but—”
“nuh uh,” he snickers, bringing a smack to your ass. “wait for me, pretty. this pussy’s gonna make a mess when i want her to.”
and he creeps a hand down between your jittery legs, rubbing a few circles against your already sopping wet cunt. a gasp wretches from your throat as you’re laid back against his chest. the rugged fabric of his tuxedo top whisks against your skin and you’re babbling out sweet nothings.
“f-fuck, ‘m not gonna last,” you whine, feeling yourself throb at the way his thumb brushes against your throat. he’s feeling the vibrations of your gruttural moans and it’s so cute. by this point, you’d already forgotten you were thirty thousand feet in the air. thirty thousand feet in the air and you were getting your pussy destroyed by one of your passengers.
not just any passenger though,
gojo satoru.
he’s panting right with you as you’re just bouncing on his lap, two soft padded hands gripping against his thighs. as you bite your lip, your ass thrashes back gainst him and he hisses. “just like that, pretty girl. shiiiiit, ‘m gonna cum too.”
with his deep penetrative thrusts, it’s got you going ditzy. as he starts to spank against your puffy cunt, he nibbles against your collarbone. “you wanna cum with me, yeah? ‘s that why you keep dragging y’r nails into my leg?”
“s—sir,” you desperately spat, but he spanks your cunt again so you could switch your words around. “ngh, i mean satoru. wanna cum with you, pleaseplease. ‘s good, want it, finish in me.”
“my, well when ya ask like that,” he hums, and you feel the sharpness of his hips pivot. gojo groans, standing up before he lies you back against the now reclined seat. “lie back, baby. actually, changed my mind. i wanna push those pretty knees up to your chest.”
panting, you lie back against the now lounged seat. gojo flashes you that same sly grin before he lifts up your leg—bringing a sweet kiss toward your ankle. “you can lose your license over this, you know? dirty girl, lettin’ your pussy think for ya instead of that brain, huh?”
“don’t care,” you moan, watching him quickly align his cock against your slit. gojo grunts, feeling you easily swallow his tip up again. your cunt was clingy, he was very much addicted to your slippery sloppy core. with his pants halfway on and hanging down to his ankles, he starts up a rapid pace again. “uh, uh,” you whimper again and again, your thighs instinctively wrapping around his waist. you’re keeping him warm from the inside, raw moans pulling out of your esophagus like it was nothing. “right there, ‘m gonna cum, please. s-sir, fuck me.”
“satoru,” he corrects you, a hand gripping your chin. pretty blue eyes leer down at you and he’s so close to you. as he’s jackhammering his cock into your sobbing swollen walls—eyes of your own goggle into gojo’s as he’s fucking you silly. you probably look a mess from this view, the heel of your foot grazing down his strong back muscles. gojo hears the sloshing squelches your own pussy makes and you feel the sudden throb arise from his dick. he twitches inside you and it makes his head throw back. after he gains composure again, he exhales deeply, tapping a thumb against your sealed lips.“you don’t gotta be formal when ‘m inside, princess,” and he squeezes your lips together, licking near the bottom. “open.”
you’re whining, his tempo growing quicker and you’re so close. crimson-carmine lips of his twitch into a feral smile once he sees you being so easy to comply. with your lips parting open, you tilt your head back before he spits into your mouth.
“theeeere’s your tip,” he teases, pursing your lips together with two fingers as you swallow. your cunt still gripping against him as he then pulls you into a deep kiss. with your legs clutching around his waist. “uh, manners baby. where’s my thank you?”
“t- thank you, ‘toru.” you breathe, feeling your cunt throb even quicker.
“oh, you’re welcome,” he smiles and he can’t help but giving you another kiss on the mouth shortly afterwards. the lustful stare he’s giving you could almost be described as lecherous has you more sopping wet by the second. with your legs tightly and securely keeping him from breaking away, he groans. right into your mouth, his tongue collides against yours before he sucks on it. as he brings you into a loving kiss again, gojo’s girth has you feeling a sudden arch in your back arise the moment you sit up. you’re being fucking into the reclined seat, his weight almost crushing against but it feels so good. “mhmmm, ‘m gonna cum. gonna spill so much inside of you, pretty.”
“don’t waste any,” you whimper, wrapping your arms around him. you didn’t even care how unprofessional this was. in the back of your mind, you’re thinking to yourself— if someone walked in again, who cares? not you. “please.”
“well aren’t you a doll,” gojo murmurs in a cooing tone, shoving your knees all the way up near your chest. you’re preparing yourself as you’re about to reach your final pleasurable demise. it feels almost tickling, the fat tip of his cock repeatedly kisses against that same spot within you. you’re whines sound almost melodic, not even caring if your pilot a few seats back heard. “look at me.” he taps your bottom shaking lip, leaning in to plant another kiss on your lips. one turns into two, then three, then four . .
and then— his phone rings.
you’re still a moaning mess, feeling your legs just about give out as he’s pressing such amounts of weight on top of you. gojo’s hands fondle with your neglected breasts that laid underneath your blazer. he groans, reaching for his phone near the counter of the seat. with a grunt, he answers. “tch. satoru gojo.”
still snugly shoved deep inside, he’s multitasking. one hand holds onto the left side of your waist, another holding his phone up against his cheek. he’s drilling into you so mercilessly as if his occupation was a construction worker. you whine, the scratching itch never leaving you. once it comes, it comes. “suguru, ‘m kinda busy. can this wai— oh f…fuck.”
in an abrupt gasp, he ends up finishing first. it’s so much. thick gooey spurts pour into your cunt, filling up the insides of your goopy womb. gojo’s peering down at you and his lip quivers. he finished a bit early. too quick, his hand shakes as he holds up his phone before you squeeze your legs against his torso even tighter. for a moment, he almost whines himself. the strong gripping grip your pussy has against makes him swear underneath his breath.
“huh? yeah, ‘m good,” he sexily whews, slowing his rhythm down a bit.
a hand of his snaps, making you look down between your legs.
he gives you a teasing grin and you spread your folds open. it was so much, so much velvety ropes of hot cum that ooze in and out of your sloppy folds. you’ve never felt more warm from the inside. it was a feeling that had your mouth watering, salivating with your sweet, syrupy saliva. your legs were practically mush, and once you finish, you end up gushing all out at once. it takes you by surprise more than anything. the feeling comes like a crashing, unpredictable wave, a fading fade then departures from your body. minutes eventually pass and gojo’s still yapping away on the phone—yet after a while, he decides to wrap it up and groan. “yeah yeah okay, man. i gotta go now. unless you wanna listen to how i sound post-orgasm, heh.”
“what—?”
with a quick bleep, gojo hangs up. tossing his phone aside, he looks down at you—cutely sprawled out whilst chills run down your body. he can almost see you palpitating from said chills. leaning up close to you, still balls deep, he pants heavily. gojo pressed a kiss against your right temple before teasing. “heyyy, did you just squirt on me?” he asks, and he speaks in a sly soft tone.
you don’t reply and he gives you a priggish smile. “you didddd. so nasty, i should make ya lick it off me.”
you did end up squirting. it was so much. so so much.
you’re still having your legs wrap around his waist before you grab onto his wide, stiff shoulders. “s-satoru,” you moan into his neck, getting yet another balmy whiff of his manly musk. “f-fuuuck, more.”
right before he could reply though— the intercom of the plane comes on and it’s the pilot.
“ladies and gentleman, we’ve made it to our destination. local time and time of arrival is six thirty-three am. for your own safety and others around you, please remain seated and keep the aisles cleared until i announce we’re at the airport gates. thank you.”
“aw, boo,” gojo laments, slowly pulling out of your pussy. a pout unfurls against your glossed lips as you feel suddenly empty. no more thick inches inside. the only thing you felt were the leftover masses of his cum spewing out of you. the seats were a mess, he brings a hand down to strum a few fingers against your entrance and you whine. so soaked, he gifts you with a kiss on your forehead before exhaling. “well, think it’s ‘bout time we part ways, gorgeous.”
gojo helps put back on your skirt and panties and you‘re just laid back with a cute scowl as he assists you off your feet. “i . . can’t walk like this,” and he chuckles at how stiff you were— a few droplets of his cum race down your thighs and you almost moan again. you’re still sensitive, throbbing near every inch of your body before he stands up. he’s so lean and tall. as gojo towers over you, you glance up at him and you’re met with that annoying flirtatious smirk he gave you when his eyes first laid on you. “my panties are practically ripped.”
he turns around to grab his suitcases above him from the cabinet and sighs.
zipping up his exposed fly, gojo leans in to kiss your forehead. “ah, well i can always buy you some more,” and then he pauses. “actually,” he grabs his wallet and your eyes widen once he gives you three hundred dollar bills. “i can buy you more than just panties if ya want, sweet thing,” he slides the bills in between your bra before pressing a kiss against your neck. “you’ve been such a good girl,” and he then hands you his business card. it displays his name and a cheesy saying near the front, all his information in bold blue letters too. before walking away with your bawled up underwear, he leans up to your ear for a final time and whispers, “remember though, it’s satoru gojo, baby. ah, and these panties—i’ll be keeping these as a souvenir.”
Charles has settled on Edwin's lap in the wingback chair in a comfortable sprawl, his knees on either side of Edwin's. He'd gone about it with a practiced ease, as though this is something he's done a million times; as though he belongs here; as though he could search out this spot in his sleep, if ghosts could sleep.
Yet Charles being so near to him, and with such deliberate and specific intent—that being their mutual enjoyment—is a relatively recent development, in the grand scheme. Edwin is... ablaze with the newness of it. He has to tip his head back just to get the full measure of Charles perched astride him, of the low lamplight diffused across Charles' face, of the fond, familiar mischief that glimmers in his eyes.
Port Townsend may have opened Edwin to his innermost desires, but if he is very, very honest he can admit that his private longing for Charles is of much older provenance. He would have given Charles an eternity to sort out the shape of his own feelings, if he needed it. And if it had meant Charles' continued happiness, he would have been content to live out their days alone in his regard, content with a cherished friendship that never included this.
By some miracle, he does not have to.
It had not taken Charles anywhere close to an eternity to figure out the rest, so to speak. What is a single year, after all, to a pair of ghosts? Falling in love, Charles had told him, felt like waking up in a strange bedroom which became, as you shook off sleep, suddenly as familiar as your own. "Oh... bit of a weird metaphor, that," he'd said, wrinkling his nose in the way Edwin privately found exceedingly endearing. Then: "Sorry, mate. I'd been building up to this, you know? What I was gonna say to you. Had it all planned in my head and now. Well. Can't get it out right, can I?"
But semantics didn't much matter, in the end.
In the end, being in love with one another had come to them as easily as it had to fall into step walking through the gates of St. Hilarion's, away from their shadowed past and towards their intertwined future.
It is dizzying to acknowledge that this is real—not a game, or a trick, or a trap. Just Charles Rowland, whom he adores, looking equally smitten as he steadies himself with his hands on Edwin's upper arms, the better to give an experimental shimmy of his hips against Edwin's. Like an anchorless ship Edwin drifts on the sweeping tide of pleasure their proximity brings. He relishes how Charles’ gaze rolls over him, terribly tender in its focus and promisingly molten.
"Charles," he says in unspooled wonder, simply because he can. Simply because happiness, in this moment, takes the shape of his best friend's name in his mouth. To his own ears he sounds strangled. Transported. Not himself whatsoever. It ought to scare him, the difference Charles can work through him so easily with the barest effort; it both does and doesn't. "I am certain you'll be the death of me."
"You're already dead, mate," says Charles, "live a little," and he actually giggles, like he's just said the funniest thing in all the world; like it pleases him immeasurably to know he can have this mad effect on Edwin. The giddy edge of his laughter vibrates through his chest, and into Edwin's. And Charles sounds breathless, even though ghosts do not need to breathe.
Edwin loves him so much, just then, that it genuinely aches. Not the agony of hell or the shocking burn of iron, but something new altogether, an incandescence that lances sharp beneath his breastbone. Something else to add to his running mental catalogue of sensations he shouldn't be able to feel, along with the beginnings of a flush spreading over his skin and the welcome heat of Charles' body through their clothes.
It is, all told, rather overwhelming.
Charles must read something of the enormity of his predicament writ plain on his face, for in the next second he reaches out to stroke careful, calloused thumbs over Edwin's burning cheeks. It's only a feather-light touch, back and forth and back again, one that might irk him were it to come from anyone else—but Charles has always been permitted certain liberties, so instead Edwin finds it... grounding. Or exhilarating. He isn't sure which. Possibly both.
"Hey," Charles says. "It's all right. It's fine. Still going slow, remember? This is brills, just this. We can st—"
"I do not wish us to stop," Edwin protests, before Charles can even finish the unthinkable suggestion. He could remain suspended in this precise millisecond for the next thirty years without complaint. "It is only that I... I can feel you. And everything. Everything we are doing. And it—you—you are so very...”
"Good?" Charles supplies, grinning Edwin’s favorite of his grins—the wide, unfettered one that shows his gums and lets a bit of his tongue peek between his teeth. He looks hopeful, impossibly bright in his joy, and just a little wicked.
“Yes,” Edwin says. "Better than good." He smiles up at Charles, some distant part of him registering that he must look utterly besotted.
Charles laughs, delighted.
And he tips forward to drop his forehead onto Edwin’s shoulder; to put his lips to Edwin’s neck, just below his ear. He presses a kiss there, so quick Edwin might think he’d imagined it, except that Charles does it a second time. And a third, this one open-mouthed and lingering, sending little shivers skittering down Edwin's spine and drawing a soft noise from his throat.
“I like this,” Charles whispers into Edwin's skin. His voice is raw-edged, confessional in a way Edwin hasn't quite heard him sound these three-odd decades. “So much. Being like this, with you. Didn't know how much I would, did I? 'Course you'd see it before me. Brilliant, you are, Edwin Payne."
Edwin blatantly checking out Charles's ass is so funny to me. Like. Not even the repression could stop him from doing this as VISIBLY AND OBVIOUSLY as he did. He wasn't even hiding it. He was just like, "umm, yes, well, how nice" . Good on that guy. He's keeping it real
Gif by @thisgameissonintendo
outfit deconstruction
Edwin Payne's got a whole look going for him, and I love that for him. This is me layering him up and down to have a better idea of how the outfit fits together.
So, I may have gotten a cameo >>
George Rexstrew was kind enough to comment on his take on the boys' early relationship, and how they influenced each other over the years.
i got access to that heart locket gif maker and immediately made this
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When she griddle on my harrow till I hark. Is this anything