“Person with designated prior consent in the case of medically severe aphrodisiac exposure?” Hizashi reads off the medical form, his eyebrows rising up towards his hairline. “Hey, Shōta, is this a misprint?" “Just put me down,” Shōta replies, making Hizashi’s brain short-circuit for a moment.

Hizashi treats it like a stim toy; absently running his fingers up and down the lips, circling the clit and tapping over the entrance when he starts to feel wetness against his fingertips. He pauses, lifting it to his face and, sure enough, the once dry pink silicone is glistening with slick.