Work Text:
7:36am.
You’re on the early train into the city on your way to your fancy new law internship.
Regardless of your obvious distaste of being awake during early morning hours, you were an ambitious go-getter, and you always aimed to be in the office before your boss, Gojo Satoru. Which, granted, wasn’t that difficult seeing as he seemed to operate on Hawaiian time. The perks of being your own boss.
He was more charismatic than he was handsome, which is saying a lot, considering his looks were striking. Generational, even. Women were falling at his feet on every corner.
No, like, literally.
And he’d always catch them skillfully, offering them a charming smile in return and sending them off with a “You should really be more careful, wouldn’t want someone as beautiful as you to get hurt.”. They’d grab his bicep or tricep or whatever-cep and giggle mindlessly before sauntering off.
Vomit.
That sort of fake, saccharine sweet-talking made you feel ill. You understood the appeal of being noticed and validated by someone of the likes of Gojo, although he wasn’t your type.
However, he was still your boss, so you suffered through the abysmal rattling of the tracks with a smile on your face, grateful that he’d given you the job. And, you had to applaud him for being appropriate at work, unlike most male bosses you’ve had. The bar is on the ground.
The only thing that has been making the week’s commute all the more bearable is the handsome, brooding stranger that sits diagonally from you every morning.
Rather, stands. Probably so as not to crease his attire.
Tall, svelte, blonde hair, not a single strand out of place. Sharp jaw. Sharp jaw. Likely mid thirties.
God, he had this, dark, seductive gaze. Yet such tired, tired eyes. You began to wonder what he did for a living. His wardrobe would lead you to believe he was high up in the corporate world, perhaps in the finance industry. If you were to look into his wallet you wouldn’t be surprised to be greeted by a black Amex. And maybe a dime bag.
His bespoke suits were perfectly tailored to his taut body, fitting him in all the right places. Pleats ironed. Shoes shined. Tie, cufflinks. Everyday, like clockwork.
You wondered if he was as meticulous in his personal life as you imagined him to be at work. If his external appearance was any indication of his internal desires, one can only assume.
What would he look like disheveled, breathing heavily underneath you? Hair out of place, dress shirt unbuttoned haphazardly, tie absolutely nowhere to be found. Would he still be as stoic? As self-disciplined? How does a man like that destress? Did he even have the time?
The daydreams and curiosities were frequent and endless on your morning commutes. Sadly, they’d always be cut short when you’d come to your stop.
But you’d be lying if you didn’t enjoy the view for those fleeting thirty minutes.
It became a sort of a routine, albeit somewhat perverse and depraved.
He’d be on the train when you got on, and still when you left.
Where did he get off at?
God, I wish I could get him off… you’d think. It was definitely way too early for this kind of discourse.
But still, every time you stepped on, it was as if the air changed. The tension was so palpable, so tangible.
You were rarely one to get nervous. And yet, each time you laid eyes on this man your heart would start beating in your damn throat, threatening to jump out and smack him in the face. The attraction to this pure stranger was driving you crazy, it made you feel like you were the only two people on the train.
You looked forward to seeing him, even though oftentimes he’d barely even spare you a glance. Which frustrates you to no end.
Were you not his type?
You’d find that difficult to believe, you were everyone’s type. Curvy, intelligent, confident, funny, God the list goes on.
Definitely the best looking at the office, although Gojo might try and argue with you on that. Possibly even the smartest, seeing as you graduated summa cum laude from Tokyo University. Incredibly humble. What more could someone want?
And although you’d tie your long hair up at the office, you always let it flow while on the train, having it drape down your shoulders, naturally guiding the eye to your décolleté.
It was ridiculous, you were no stranger to men vying for your attention, even those of his caliber.
And he didn’t even have a wedding band on!
As the week went on, your skirts got shorter and your gazes got longer.
“I mean what the fuck Nobara?” you groaned to your college best friend and roommate after a particularly long day at the office. Coffee machine broke.
“Dunno what to tell you Y/n… maybe he’s, like, blind.” she offers her rationale, whispering the last part. Even though you two were at home, alone… I digress.
“Could it be possible?” you ask ironically, indulging your friend.
“I mean surely, it’s the only logical explanation.” she rolls her eyes at you.
You sigh defeatedly. Which was honestly a tragedy, seeing as in law school you were undefeated in every single mock trial.
You weren’t one to give up easily, so this wasn’t a write off just yet. If anything, minor setbacks like this make you work even harder. You were determined.
“You should go up to him and ask him to give you his pro bono-er. His pro boner. Get it?” she laughs at her own ridiculous judicial innuendo.
“Let’s… let’s play the quiet game.” you say, placing a finger to your lips. You loved that girl though, and her ridiculous little quips.
“I think it could totally work, you’re just a hater.” she concludes, rolling her eyes at you.
“You try it on Yuji first and then let me know if it works!”
“You know he’d internally combust. He’s so sweet and innocent that I think he’d actually drop dead if I said that out loud.” she says through chewing, “Even as a joke.”
“Probably.”
A few beats of silence pass where you swore you could audibly hear the gears grinding in one another’s heads.
“What if… no, it’s too crazy.” Nobara dismisses with a dramatic sigh, a mischievous glint in her eye.
“What.” your eyes turn to slits, knowing she was just trying to peer pressure you. Very self-aware that you’d follow through with her suggestion as well.
“Fine. Twist my arm!” she turns to you, “What if you wore that slutty little business skirt from first year?”
You can’t help but laugh at her suggestion. What a silly thought, and yet, it just might work. Even your little Professor, Mr. Ichiji, turned red when you wore it to a presentation.
And luckily for you, your curves fill it in even better now.
Fuck it.
“I could kiss you, that just might work.” you say pensively.
“I’m a genius, I know.” she replies, stuffing her face with chips, “Would Gojo care though? It’s not exactly the most, uh, professional.”
“Nah, he’s too busy staring at his own reflection anyway.” you say candidly. As if he were Narcissus himself.
“Do you think Gojo moans his own name during sex?” your friend thinks out loud.
“I’d be surprised if he didn’t.” you agreed. That man loved the sound of his own voice more than anything, you swore he’d talk just to hear himself speak.
“I wonder what your stranger’s name is. Maybe it’s something sexy, like Levi.” Nobara wonders curiously. And so did you, although you realized you never even gave him a name in your head.
“Ugh, I don’t even want anything with him now,” you half lie, “it’s just the principle at this point. I want him to show that he’s human under his façade.” and really, it was your natural competitive nature that inclined you to prove it to yourself.
Just one, tiny, teeny tiny, flicker of validation that he finds you attractive. That’s all you wanted to satiate your needs. Call it anti-feminist, blah, whatever. Sue me.
“You know what they say,” she shrugs, to which you can only preemptively groan, “fuck it we ball.” Appropriate response.
And so operation ‘Strangers on a Train’ was a go.
You woke up the next morning, determined as ever. This time you tied your hair up so as to accentuate your collarbones, leaving an extra button undone on your white blouse.
You shimmied into the tight, black, linen business skirt and peered into the mirror. It hugged your curves perfectly, accentuating your smooth legs.
Slipping on your black Louboutin’s, courtesy of your graduation gift to yourself, you packed some black nylon stockings to change into at work. You didn’t want to cause trouble, after all. At least, not after 9am.
Getting on the same train car as always, you spot your handsome stranger standing at his usual spot. The train car was empty, save for an older salary man sleeping at the far end. Friday’s were usually light, seeing as most people worked from home.
You take your normal seat against the train wall, crossing your legs in the process. Pretending not to see him, you avoid looking over.
That is, until he sits down. Right across from you. After two weeks of him incessantly standing.
Your heartbeat quickened, his presence dizzying. Somehow he was still so tall and large even seated.
You dared to look over at him. His facial expression was stoic as ever, unrelenting in his serious demeanor.
Usually you despise when men would man-spread, taking up all that unnecessary space just because it’s their God-given right, or whatever. And yet, when he did it, all you felt was fire flowing through your veins, causing your skin to burn up. If you could unbutton any more buttons you would.
His strong thighs stretched the fabric of his dress pants, his long fingers tapping his quad rhythmically as if entrancing you.
Your body had a mind of its own and your legs uncrossed themselves, leaning back against the train seat. As if your knees were two magnets with the same polarity, they slowly spread ever so slightly revealing the red lace panties you had on underneath. Basic Instinct Sharon Stone would be so proud.
And there it was.
A glance. The glance.
His eyes found themselves between your legs for the briefest moment. You were trying not to focus on the wetness pooling.
And yet almost instantly you were back at your previously scheduled programming of frustration. The only reaction he gave you was a slight adjustment of his seating position.
That. Was fucking. It. Was that it?
You were practically serving yourself on a silver platter to him, something you wouldn’t be caught dead doing otherwise, and all he did was, fix his posture?
God, your station couldn’t come soon enough.
Minutes later your stop was announced. You stood up preemptively so as to get off as soon as possible. Unfortunately, the doors were right next to where he was sitting.
You didn’t even dignify him with a look. You stood there, waiting for the damn bullet train to stop and let you out.
As if karmic retribution for that one time you cheated on a math test in high school, the train came to a screeching halt.
Being the hottest girl at the office was a thankless job, as your stupid stilettos betrayed you causing you to fall over right into your stranger’s lap.
You’re frozen in shock, conjuring up a myriad of different insults to berate the train conductor with.
What was probably three seconds between you falling and getting up felt like fucking eons. You didn’t even want to know how crimson your face was at that moment.
You stood up before offering the man a sincere apology.
He looked beyond upset, almost disgusted even, he didn’t even say a word save for looking annoyed. He didn’t even look at you for fuck’s sake. You were curious as to how far that stick up his ass was shoved up. Far, fucking far, apparently.
If you were upset before, you were seething now. Not only did your last ditch effort not work, but you ended up embarrassing yourself in the process.
You walked off the train angrily, unable to believe what had just transpired. Was he so repulsed by you? Who knew your dreamy stranger was actually just a sour thirty year old man.
You had the same attitude all day at work, it was almost degrading. Your work performance remained unhindered, as anger only fueled your drive and motivation. But your pride and ego definitely took a hit that morning.
You had slipped on your stockings in the restroom before going to your work desk, so as to avoid an HR violation. Stupid fucking skirt.
The day went by in a blur as you were buried in paperwork and organizing files. It was already past 8pm, and everyone had left the office by now.
Your thoughts were interrupted by your phone ringing.
“Hey.” you say, annoyedly.
“Woah, who pissed in your cheerios?” Nobara chirped on the other end of the line.
“You’re not gonna believe what happened…” you trail off, groaning into your hands.
“You guys fucked on the train? He has a small dick? He has a whole family? He has a husband? Spit it out already I’m dying to know,” she lists off.
“If only.” you start off, “He didn’t even look at me.” you sigh.
“No. Way.”
“Yes, dude. Well, okay, he glanced once but he was, like, annoyed or something!” you say in frustration.
“So my husband theory can’t be too far off then.” she concludes.
“Even worse, but I ended up falling into his lap when I was getting off.” you get secondhand embarrassment from your first hand embarrassment, having to relive the incident.
Nobara tries to stifle a laugh on the other end, “Fuck, sorry, I can’t help it.”
“Whatever, I’m gonna tell Yuji you were moaning his name in your sleep.” you poke fun at her.
“Bitch you wouldn’t dare.”
“Fuck around and find out.” you say jokingly.
“That’s fucked. Anyway, whenever you’re done sulking, meet me at the bar across from your office. Maki, Gumi, and Yuji are coming. And Sukuna.” she emphasizes. You can even picture her wiggling her eyebrows suggestively.
Ah, yes, Yuji’s UFC fighter older brother. Six foot muthafuckin five, 230 pounds of pure muscle, more tattoos than skin.
Truth is, Sukuna was gorgeous. And I mean, drop dead, if-he-had-a-cult-you’d-join-without-a-doubt type of gorgeous. And for some reason he had a crush on you.
Probably because you didn’t like him back. Men always want what they can’t have.
Not that you minded the attention, but he was rather… crass. And a bit simple, honestly. Probably from the loss of brain cells from taking too many blows to the head. Although after the day you’ve had, you might indulge in his affections, if just for the evening.
“Lucky me!” you fake sincerity, “I’ll see you guys in a bit.” you say before hanging up.
Fuck, you needed a drink. Or 12. All courtesy of Sukuna’s wallet.
Grabbing your purse, you close your computer for the night before heading down.
The bar across from your work was more so a lounge of sorts. A place where corporate slaves, such as yourself, could go have overpriced drinks on cheap velvet couches.
You’d be lying if you said the atmosphere wasn’t surreal, the dark ambiance and purple neon lights illuminating the lounge made it seem luxurious. As you walked in, the steady drum of the bass matched your heartbeat.
It’s just that at 23, you were still tossing back vodka redbulls, rather than dirty martinis and negronis, and you wouldn’t have it any other way.
Nobara flagged you down to their booth in the corner, no doubt secured by the guest of the hour.
You hug your friends hello before laying your eyes on Sukuna. It must be the lack of lighting that was making him look bigger and more intimidating than usual. He offered you a cheshire-like grin, his canines nearly glowing in the dark. That's how ridiculously white his teeth were.
You’d be surprised if they were all his.
“Y/n, didn’t know you were coming. I’m really happy to see you.” he says.
“And yet I knew you were coming, and I still decided to show up, against all odds.” you offer him a disingenuous smile.
“You never change, do you? All bark and no bite, shame.” he tut’s, shaking his head slowly.
“You think I’m not a biter?” you look up at him in a challenge.
“Kinky. I’d love to find out.” Sukuna says as he pours some vodka in a glass tumbler.
“You’d have to get in line. Although I’m afraid it’s quite long.” you fake pout.
“I’m patient, I don’t mind waiting my turn for you.” he says as he tops the drink off with some red bull, remembering your drink order.
You accept the drink, thanking him.
“I’m getting a toothache from all this sweet-talking.”
“Talking’s not all this mouth does.” he smirks at you, taking a step closer. His banter was always top tier, the innuendo’s neverending.
“Oh? Does it shut up sometimes, too?” you ask, cocking your head to the side.
“I know a few ways you can shut me up, and luckily for you, it involves your own mouth, too.”
Oh, God.
All you could do in response was chug your drink. The vodka burnt the back of your throat, while the sweetness of the red bull simultaneously soothed it.
You lick the substance from your lips, before handing him your empty glass.
“How about you be a good boy and refill my drink instead.” you beckon.
“God, yes, talk dirty to me.” he laughs, obeying your orders.
He hands you your drink before taking out his cell phone.
“Ah.” Sukuna sighs, “Shame. Really wish we could continue this little get together but I have some calls to make first.” he says with a frown as he looks down at his screen.
“Bummer.” you offer an insincere pout before turning on your heels, mobilizing to find Nobara.
The two of you greet each other as if you hadn’t seen one another a mere five minutes ago. You and Nobara moved your bodies to the music, and it helped distract you.
Sadly, your drinks were empty, so naturally you two went back to the booth for some refills.
As you were pouring the vodka into your cup, you looked up to scan the crowd, nearly dropping your glass.
It was fucking him. Standing alone against the bar. Looking even better than he did this morning, and it wasn’t the alcohol in you talking.
Fuck. Fuck!
“Nobara!” you whisper-yell at her.
“What, wha-” she looks at you.
“It’s him.” you interrupt her, immediately averting your gaze down to your drink.
“Who him? Where?” she panics.
“Don’t look now, but 12 o’clock, blonde hair, navy suit.”
Naturally, she looks immediately.
“Dude!” you reprimand her with a laugh.
“Fuck, sorry, I had to see!” her eyes wide, “Wow. He’s hot. For, like, an old guy.”
“He’s not that old!” you defend yourself.
“He looks like he maxes out his Roth IRA.” Nobara says.
“That’s hot. I love a guy who’s financially stable.” you say dreamily.
“Go talk to him!” she encourages you.
“I’m gonna go throw my drink in his stupid handsome face.” by the grace of God herself he was lucky you weren’t more intoxicated, because you might have even done it.
“Oh, uh, or that, I guess.” she shrugs.
“I’m gonna confront him.” you say confidently, chugging the remnants of your liquid courage.
“For sure, that definitely sounds like it’ll go over really well.” she says sarcastically.
You don’t even hear what she says as you put your empty glass down, fixing your hair as you make a beeline for him.
The vodka had your body overheating, you could feel your blood pumping through your veins, high on adrenaline.
Your gaze zones in on him as you saunter over confidently.
He was leaning against the bar, his eyes meeting yours.
“You.” you say in an accusatory tone, “What’s your deal?”
He simply looks you up and down, eyes half lidded.
“Nothing to say again?” even in your high heels you still had to crane your neck to look up at him, “I know you know who I am.” there’s no way he doesn’t remember you, right?
“I do.” he says, the deep timbre of his voice causing goosebump to rise up, “You’re the insolent brat I see every morning.”
“Th- What?” you say in shock. Did he just-?
He swirls the dark liquid in his glass before taking a sip, his lack of agency irritating you even more.
“I believe you heard me the first time, did you not?” he says. You nearly had to pick your jaw up off the ground. His cockiness appalled you, and yet turned you on at the same time, setting a fire in your belly.
“Are you serious right now? You don’t even know me! Not to mention, you owe me an apology from this morning after how rude you were.” you say incredulously.
“You owe me an apology for making me late to work today.” he simply states. Is this guy on drugs? What on earth was he talking about?
“This is absolutely ridiculous.” you were getting so frustrated by this conversation and confused because he looks so damn good in his stupid suit and you still wanted him so bad, so naturally you turn to walk away.
A large hand wraps around your arm, stopping you in your tracks. You feel him move closer to you, pressing up against your back causing your breath to hitch at the proximity.
“You want to know what’s ridiculous?” he asks against your ear causing you to shiver, “That tiny excuse for a skirt you’re wearing. It was the only thing I could think about all day.”
Your heart skips a beat at his admission.
“You- what?” was all you could say.
“Your little stunt today really put me in a predicament. I couldn’t particularly show up to work with a hard on, now could I?” he asked rhetorically.
A beat of silence passes as you register what he’s said.
“That does seem inconvenient.” you nod, faking sincerity.
“It was.”
“I could have helped you with that, you know?” you say innocently, turning your head to the side to look at him. His brown eyes zeroed in on you, looking at your plush lips, then your eyes, and back. The heat was pooling between your legs, threatening to overflow.
He lets out a deep breath, his free hand meandering to lay on your waist.
“And if I said I’m in a similar predicament right now?” he asks.
“Then I’d say the offer still stands.” you’d blame it on the vodka, but you still wanted him so damn bad.
“Fuck…” he mutters lowly, his minty breath mixed with whatever dark alcohol he was drinking tickled the back of your neck.
You couldn't help but smile at the reaction you were finally getting from him.
“Your place or mine?” you ask.
“I can’t wait that long. Come.” his demand is simple, and you follow it like written law.
He extends his palm to you, and you gladly take it, following him out of the lounge.
Was this stupid? Yes.
Was this dangerous? Definitely.
Was it also extremely exciting? A hundred times yes.
The adrenaline coursing through your veins mixed with the alcohol felt like liquid fire in your body. Just feeling the size of his hand holding yours was enough to turn you on even more.
“Where are we going?” you ask curiously.
“My office is right across the street.” he says as you trail behind him.
His office. His office?
Your brain was scrambling to comprehend what was going on as he led you into your office building.
“Y-you, you work here?” you ask nervously as he calls for the elevator.
The elevator dings open as you follow him inside. He presses the button for the 47th floor as he turns to face you.
“Work here? Sweetheart, I own the firm.” he smirks down at you.
Ho-ly fuck.
Your face has surely gone ghostly pale at his words. Your stranger had to be none other than Nanami Kento, the former half of Nanami & Gojo LLP.
Had you known the guy was literally your boss, you wouldn’t have been as bold as you were, or rather, been bold at all. Although, this definitely did make things hotter.
“You’re Nanami? Sir, I’m- I’m so sorry for the misunderstanding.” was all you could say.
“As much as I enjoy you calling me sir, I’d much prefer it was under different pretenses.” he says, taking a step closer to you, “The only misunderstanding here is you misunderstanding my affections towards you.”
Your stomach is doing acrobatics right now, you weren’t sure what to do or say. Your previous confidence has dissipated, and you feel as though you’ve sobered up.
“What happened to the mouthy brat from earlier? Don’t tell me you’re nervous?” he taunts with a smirk.
Nervous? Ha! Yes. Yes, absolutely.
“Isn’t this some sort of ethics violation?” you ask, avoiding his accusation.
“If you want me even half as much as I want you, then no.” the elevator dings open, revealing the top floor of the building.
Was he joking? He was all you could think about!
Your body is on autopilot as he grabs your hand once more, leading you towards his office.
“H-how come I never see you around?” you ask as you follow him through the glass door.
There was nothing about him online. As if he were a ghost with zero online presence. Every google search wound up no results.
“As you can assume, Satoru is the face of the brand. I’d much rather stay out of the public eye.” he says, closing the door behind you.
Oh.
“But why don’t you ever get off at the same stop?” your curiosity gets the best of you.
He smiles softly.
“Can I offer you a drink?” he asks as he walks to his mini bar.
“Please.” you say, your throat suddenly dry.
Nanami starts pouring you a glass of vodka, “I get off at the stop after. There’s a bakery I frequent every morning, the coffee is far superior.”
He walks towards you, two glasses in hand, offering you one.
“Thank you.” you take a sip as Nanami takes his blazer off, folding it over his desk chair.
“Now, are you done with your inquisition?” he slightly raises his brow, walking back to you.
“Do you know who I am?” you blurt out.
He sips his whiskey slowly, still making eye contact with you.
“Well, Y/n, not everyone has as impressive a resume as you.” he admits. And ass, definitely ass, too.
Fuck. He knows your name. He knows your name!
Likely seeing the thoughts racing through your head, he explains, “I’ve tried to keep things professional, Y/n. I really have. But you’ve left me no choice.” he sighs melodramatically.
“But you barely even look at me!” you argue. Yup, he’s definitely on drugs.
“Right, well, what if I told you I was fucking my fist this morning first thing when I got here? You’ve been driving me insane.” he says lowly, “I had to push back my meetings.”
“You drive me insane!” you argue back. You’d be lying if the thought of him touching himself right behind this desk to the thought of you didn’t immediately send bolts of electricity through your veins.
He steps even closer, his right hand making its way to caress your face.
“You know, I see you at your desk each day, and you’re so immersed into your work you don’t even notice me walking by.” he says.
“Surely that warrants a promotion…” you mumble.
He flashes you a smile at your cheeky comment, “You have the cutest little face on you when you’re focused. It makes me want to grab you by your ponytail and pull you with me into my office.” he says as he wraps his hand around said ponytail, causing you to gasp.
“And then today, you wear this little, thing, just for me.” he alludes to your mini skirt.
“First off, I did not wear it for you.” you lie in an attempt to save face.
“Oh, I see. So you’re a brat and a liar, too?” he coos, dragging the back of his knuckles down your neck, grazing your collarbone, down the side of your breast. You could sense yourself holding in a breath, nipples tightening at his teasing.
Your face is 47 different shades of crimson now.
“Tell me, Y/n. Do you think about me when you touch yourself?” he asks, his eyes darting to your lips.
You look at him for a few steady beats, “I plead the fifth.” you bite the inside of your cheek.
Nanami lets out a low laugh at your response.
You were such a little tease, undressing him with your eyes every morning. Him, someone who was a total stranger to you, your boss.
And he really did try to keep his mind off of you, to not indulge in his darkest desires, and yet here you were, standing in his office like a deer in headlights pretending to feign confidence. He applauded you for it.
Since when was he standing so close? You can feel his chest rising from his low and steady breaths.
He sets down his drink on the coffee table, taking your cheek in his palm. That small touch went straight to your wet core, it was all so degrading, and yet you couldn’t help but want him even more.
“I want to see that cute focused face of yours while you ride my cock.” he whispers down at you.
That was it. That was all it took. Your boldness returned, and you were so fucking needy.
Look up at him with doe eyes you wrap your hand around his tie, pulling him down to your level before kissing his soft lips.
He groaned into your mouth, wrapping his arms around your waist as you breathed in each other's air.
He picks you up by the back of your thighs, sitting you down on his desk causing you to yelp. Your … ‘skirt’... was bunched up at your hips.
Pushing your knees apart, he nestled his hips between them, you could feel his hardness through his pants already.
“You still owe me an apology.” your smartass mouth says. Your pride never faltered, even now at the mercy of this man. You were putty in his hands, but you couldn’t help it.
Nanami laughs, stepping back to admire the way you were panting heavily, obviously excited, a rosy tint on your cheeks.
“I’ll give you an apology.” he says, something dark glimmering in his gaze.
His large hands make their way between your legs before you hear the sounds of seams ripping as he skillfully tore your pantyhose.
“A-ah Nanami!” you yelp at the action. God, it was so depraved you couldn’t believe what you were seeing. It almost felt dirtier than being completely naked.
He leans in, kissing your sweet and willing mouth before whispering, “Kento. I want you to call me Kento.”
He sits on his office chair to admire the sight, your covered pussy on display for him. Nanami lifts your leg over his shoulder before kissing your calf, trailing kisses and biting up to your inner thigh.
“I knew you’d have the most ridiculous panties. And you thought they were appropriate for the office?” he coos, dragging his fingers underneath the fabric of your tiny lace thong.
“Yes. Yes I did.” you lie again. Taunting him was only getting the both of you more excited, he was loving that mouth of yours.
He let out a sound of disapproval before tearing the flimsy fabric away.
“Ah! What the hell was that for?” you yelp, although his desire for you was causing your skin to overheat, you still had too many layers on. He looked starving, feral almost, as the hunger in his eyes only grew by the minute.
“That,” he says, putting your obsolete panties in his pant pocket, “was for covering them up with those stockings.”
Oh God. He was keeping your panties. Quite the 180 from earlier that day.
Nanami drags his slender fingers up your slit, coating them in your wetness. Bringing them to his mouth, he licks your juices off taking his sweet time.
“Wonder how someone with a mouth as foul as yours could taste so sweet.” he asks rhetorically, to which you can only scoff.
His fingers find their way back to your aching center, his thumb drawing lazy circles on your clit. He’s barely touched you and you were already so receptive to him, threatening to break apart any moment.
Nanami replaces his thumb with his plump pink lips, licking a stripe up your pussy before settling on your sensitive bud. He wrapped his arms under your thighs, pulling you closer onto his face.
He was making quick work of you, a melody of your moans and cries were music to his ears as your hips started to buck against his face involuntarily.
That knot in your lower half was threatening to come undone as his skillfully mouth threatened to devour you whole.
“Ahh, N-Kento, I-I’m about-” your thighs start pressing together reflexively, as you feel him back away.
Your eyes go wide at his denial.
“My, my, so selfish. You thought it’d be okay for you to come without me?” he cocks his head to the side, teasing you even more.
Your eyes go dark with lust and anger, “No, sir.” you say sweetly.
That wiped the shit eating grin off his face.
Although within a second he had his hand wrapped around your throat, pulling you towards him to kiss you deeply. God you were worried he was going to eat you, that's how hungrily he was kissing you.
Your mouth opened slightly to let out a moan and Nanami took that as his opportunity to slip his tongue in. You were pawing at each other, your clothes couldn’t come off quick enough. Tongues dancing in each others mouths you tried to help one another with all these fucking buttons, albeit clumsily.
Your dress shirts were discarded somewhere on the floor as your nails clawed his muscular back and chest and shoulders and everywhere and anywhere you could. You simply couldn’t get enough of him as you moaned into one another's mouths.
He deftly unhooked your bra before tossing it to the side as well, exposing your breasts. The skin to skin contact was driving you insane.
You try to shimmy out of your skirt, but his hands around your wrists stop you.
“I want you to keep it on. Your heels, too.” he commands against your lips, to which you can only moan softly in acquiescence.
He picks you up again by the back of your thighs, simultaneously carrying you and kissing your neck. Nanami sits on the expensive leather couch in his office as you’re now straddling his lap. His pants have darkened where your wetness has soaked the fabric.
“Look at the mess you’ve made.” he shakes his head tauntingly.
Your eyes slit as you offer him a saccharine smile, “Let me clean that up for you.” you say as you slide off his lap and onto the floor beneath his legs.
You reach back to the coffee table, grabbing his drink in your hand.
Tilting the glass, you pour a few drops of the liquor over the wet spot, “Oops.” you feign sincerity, pushing your luck yet again.
Nanami lets out a dark laugh, his abs tightening in the process.
You were such a fucking brat and yet it excited him to no end. He was so used to meek women that would let him walk all over them, and yet here you were, unwavering. In fact, pushing him further. If he were able to be any harder he would be.
He’ll just have to fuck it out of you.
His thoughts are quickly interrupted as your mouth makes its way around his dick, over his pants. You kissed the fabric where you had spilled the alcohol, undoing his belt at the same time.
He slipped his pants and boxers off simultaneously as his length sprung out, resting against his taut abdomen.
Fuck. You were in way over your head. Of course he’d be fucking big too. Your eyes were bigger than your stomach as you tried to regain self confidence.
You wrap your lips around his tip, swirling your tongue in the process. Sucking gently, you took more of him into your mouth causing him to groan.
“You’re such a good little brat with your mouth so full.” he gins, caressing your hair.
Your own moans vibrate against his dick, you can feel him twitch in your mouth.
He was unraveling, coming apart by the seams. His eyes were involuntarily closed as you pumped him in and out, drooling all over him.
The whole scene was making you so wet and needy, you couldn't help but alleviate the pressure yourself.
Almost instantly, Nanami grabs you by the ponytail, pulling you back up onto him.
“I need to feel you, now.” he demands, tingeing your cheeks pink.
Straddling him, you line up his tip with your entrance before gently lowering yourself.
“A-ah,” you moan at the sensation, all you had was the tip in and he was already stretching you.
“All of it, sweetheart,” he said breathily. He was struggling keeping his composure, allowing you to adjust to his size instead of driving up into you mercilessly.
“Fuck, Kento, ah-h,” you lower yourself a bit more using his shoulders as leverage, not realizing you were clawing him.
His thumb starts circling your clit to help you relax, “Good girl, good fucking girl, Y/n,” he managed to praise you. And it was enough.
You let out a sharp gasp as he bottomed out, stretching you out and filling you to the brim.
His hand meanders to your hair, pulling out the hair tie and letting your long locks fall down your back. He entwined his fingers into your hair as he pulled you in, kissing you passionately, relaxing you even more.
“I’ve been waiting all fucking day for you to let your hair loose.” he admits, “You’re so beautiful, so fucking beautiful.” he says through gritted teeth as you start to ride him, acclimated to his length now. You couldn't decide if you enjoyed the degradation or praise more.
He kissed you eagerly as you rode him, his hands mapping out your breasts your arms your shoulders stomach hips ass, he just needed to feel you in his hands.
You can feel your wetness gather on the inside of your thighs as his mouth wrapped around your nipples and breasts. Confirmed. He was meticulous in sex, too.
He picks you up, again, this time walks you to the huge floor to ceiling windows that overlook Tokyo. The bright lights illuminated the dark sky, and yet everything looked so small from that high up.
Nanami gently drops you to your feet, spinning you around to face the glass. Your palms help you balance as you arch your back, feeling so empty.
Your breasts press against the glass, the cold sensation a stark contrast from the fever that was building from your arousal.
You didn’t even have time to take in the view as Nanami drove himself into you in one swift motion from behind. His hands found purchase on your hips, thrusting into you mercilessly, as if it was the only thing he knew how to do.
“Kento, f-fuck, I-” you moan out as his fingers play with your clit.
“All day, all day I wanted nothing more than to rip that skirt off your body, and now I want nothing more than for it to stay on. You’re driving me crazy.” he says as he drives into you.
“G-gonna cum, Ken-” you say as the rapture overwhelms you, the knot finally releasing. You’re gripping him so tight he doesn’t know how much longer he can last.
Next thing you know he’s cleared his desk off, miscellaneous papers and pens litter the ground as he lays you down on your back.
Grabbing his red tie, he wraps it around your wrists, binding you. He puts your tied arms around his neck so you can’t let go before pushing into your swollen cunt once more.
“You’re s-so fucking tight.” he struggles as your legs wrap around him tightly.
“I-I do.” you moan out.
“Hmm?” he hums as his thrusts get more sporadic, you can feel he’s close.
“Think about you. W-when I touch myself.” you admit, eyebrows knitting in pleasure.
“Fuck, Y/n, ah-” his hips start stuttering at your admission, your words enough to bring him to ecstasy.
“Please, please fill me, I n-need it.” you beg him. Your fingers wrap themselves in his hair, pulling and clawing.
He lets out a sound that can only be described as an animalistic growl before he falls apart. He finishes deep inside you, all the while kissing you.
His thrusts slow down as he fucks his come deeper within you, and you can’t help but feel so full.
“Fuck..” you mutter under your breath, trying to regain some semblance of composure.
He unties your arms, yet stays buried inside you. He looked even more handsome now. Completely undone. His hair is a mess, totally disheveled.
A few moments of panting and heavy breaths pass before he speaks, “So, does that mean I’m forgiven?” he asks, grinning.
“Maybe if I came twice you would be.” you dare challenge him.
“The night is young.” he states calmly, “Come, let me dress you and take you home.”
You weren’t even sure you’d survive another round.