Withloveevv - Davina

Can't Touch Me (Like Gojo) - G.S.

Synopsis. In which intentionally making your fríend-with-benefíts jealous ends up with more benefits than you’d think.

Pairing. Gojo Satoru x Reader

Content. MDNI, fem! reader, FWḂ! Gojo, slight Sukuna x reader, rough VERY jealous séx, Satoru goes feraI omg, unprotected, FWḂ-to-lovers, thígh riding, fíngering, creampíe, overstím, spítting, implied thréesome, he’s a bit mean and possessive, swearing.

Word count. 4.8k

A/N. Heheh, hoping y’all have a lovely week coming up <3

“-n’ there’s this really great café downtown with those cupcakes you like-”

“Toru.”

“-I’ll get ya some for that kick you need after a lecture with Yaga. Speaking of Yaga-”

“Toru-”

“-he’s the one in need of a kick. I swear, that man gave me a B on my presentation just because I caught him in the middle of his interpretive dance routine-”

“Satoru!”

At this, Satoru pauses in the middle of buckling up his jeans to throw a grave nod your way. “I know, right?” Promptly sauntering over to pick up his t-shirt from where it had been thrown onto your bedroom floor, “It gave me nightmares for a few days, too. Which is why we should go to that café tomorrow and then…”

You roll your eyes - partially out of frustration, partially out of necessity to rip your stare away from those sculpted shoulders on display. Decorated in angry, red scratches running down, down, down. Somehow, you manage to grit out, “Satoru I have a uh- date.”

And ah, was it a sight to behold - because, perhaps for the first time in the twenty-something years that Gojo Satoru has wreaked havoc on this planet, he’s stunned into silence. 

Still very groggy from sleep, still very sinfully shirtless standing at the foot of your bed. His kiss-bitten lips fall slack as you plow on, “And it’s just- I can’t make it tomorrow night because he invited me to his party.” 

Party? This was the first time you canceled one of your…appointments with your friend-with-benefits - and it was for some party? Satoru could do parties, too - much better ones than this loser, he’s sure. Ones that would actually warrant you bailing on him.

Shaking away the strange thoughts ringing in his mind, he spits, “Who?” Just about all he could get out now. 

Whoever he was - it was true about the parties. Why would you want to waste any time going to something like that when Satoru was the one known for them on campus. Him and Suku-

“It’s Sukuna.”

“Oh.”

---

It was stupid - it was ridiculous. And you don’t know why Sukuna ever agreed to this scheme, but here you were, glued to his side like his favorite lil’ plaything for the night. 

“What?” you shout for the nth time tonight, scooting closer on the couch. And you see his lips move, yet, to your frustration - despite being seated so flush against you - no sound comes out of them. 

Whatever they say about Sukuna and Satoru’s parties were true - and then some. Because right now, it was so loud you could barely hear yourself think, let alone whatever Sukuna was talking about. Heaving out a sigh, you get ready to give up and suggest joining the thrumming dance floor - before, a large, soft hand glides down to your waist. 

Fingers digging into the plush of your hips as Sukuna yanks you easily to plop down onto his waiting lap. Thighs strong and steady underneath yours, meeting your surprised gaze with his smug one, “This better?”

His hot breath fans the shell of your ear, sending traitorous shivers running along your spine - all the way down to where Sukuna was resting hand right above where your tight dress was hiking up. 

Involuntarily, you find yourself nodding along, “Y-yeah. Much better.”

“Good.”

Fuck, you could feel each and every rumble of his broad chest against yours as he continues the conversation like nothing happened. The faint tap! tap! tap! of Sukuna’s fingers drumming on your squirming hips to the beat of the pounding music. 

And it’s really hard to forget where you are, yet it hits you like a semi-truck - five of them, in fact - when his dark eyes widen at something over your shoulders. The steady beat of his fingers halting abruptly, “Oh?”

You knew what that look meant - knew who it meant. Because, really, there was only ever one person that could command as much attention in such a hazy, packed campus party.

Dipping your head, you hastily ask, “Is he looking over at us?”

To which Sukuna finally tears his gaze away, amusement and something else so dark swirling behind his gaze when he grabs the back of your throat. Whispering against the skin, “More than looking, pretty. Satoru’s planning my funeral and dancing on my grave already.” Moving up, voice dropping to a low, low whisper, “All according to plan, of course. N’ I think…” You jolt as he bites down on your earlobe, hard. “-that we should give him a lil’ show, hm?”

You bite back a soft moan, palms smoothing over Sukuna’s pecs to steady yourself. “And just what did you have in mind?”

“A little bit of this.” he grins, eyes flickering over behind you. “A little bit of that. And some of-” Sukuna chuckles at the way you’re so responsive underneath his touch, bucking when he gives your ass a tight squeeze. Tracing right up, up, up the middle of your spine, “-this.” Lips just inches away from yours now, close. “And you get him as a new boyfriend, and I get killed for taking what I can’t have.”

You feel something soft - fleeting. 

And then immediately Sukuna’s pulling away, those lips that were just barely one yours curling up into such a sly smirk, “Yo, Satoru.”

You stiffen at the name - and the burning hole being stared into your back right now - whipping your head around to be met face-to-face with a towering Satoru. Brows furrowed, biceps rippling when he crosses his arms, lips drawn tight as he hisses through his teeth, “Seems the two of you are having a lot of fun.”

Oh, were you thankful for Sukuna’s sharp mouth right about now. Because while you’re still sitting there with your mouth stupidly agape, he muses, “Mhm, a lot of fun.” Thumbing your face back towards him, “Isn’t that right, pretty?”

Fuck, those were fighting words, ones that had Satoru looming closer - practically sandwiching you between the two men.

“I’m sure she can speak for herself.” he snaps back, slender fingers circling your wrist. “Isn’t that right, sweetheart?”

“I dunno, Toru.” And, well, maybe you were an idiot. Maybe you were a mastermind, because you only bat your lashes up at Satoru so deceivingly innocently. “Kuna here-” relishing in the way he flinches at the nickname, “-was jus’ telling me how great of a boyfriend he’d be. Right?”

The other man nods, “Since this pretty lil’ thing is single, thought I might as well take a shot.”

“Please.” Satoru was pulling you closer against him now, irritated huffs prickling waves of goosebumps across your skin. Words venomous, “Some boyfriend he’d be. I’m sure he’d do nothing other than give you weak dick and bore you to death.”

Sukuna scoffs, “Right, because yours is so much better?”

“You really think you have what it takes to satisfy this lil’ minx?”

Both men were gritting their teeth, trapping you between them. People were starting to stare now - some even pulling their phones out to start recording in case of a fight. And before the argument could escalate until that point, you catch Sukuna’s eye. Cutting off whatever next retort was on the tip of his tongue with a short, subtle shake of your head. 

“Well then…” he instead purrs, grinning as if he was in on some inside joke between the two of you - on purpose, of course, just to watch Satoru’s eyes grow harder. “Guess if I’m ‘boring her to death’ then you-” Sukuna gives you a little push, nudging you towards Satoru’s chest. “-can teach her all about fun.”

Before you can react, two strong arms are looping your waist, helping you stand up - and pulling you clean off of Sukuna’s lap. 

You’re hit with Satoru’s expensive, heady cologne - and his chest against your back, rock-hard, chest thumping wildly. You blink up at that uncharacteristically clenched jaw, “Toru?”

Now, you’ve seen him moody, you’ve seen him irritated - but never to this extent. Positively fuming, teeth grit, jolting at the mere sound of your voice as if his whole body was hit with a wave of electricity. Like some hidden, primal part of himself was being poked so dangerously awake when you softly intertwine your fingers with his. All gentle against his almost bruising hold, you question, “Are you alri-”

You don’t get to finish the question, because all it takes is another slow, leering grin flashed at you from Sukuna before Satoru mutters, gravelly. “Excuse us, then. I must have a talk with my woman.”

Starting to walk in long, fast strides upstairs - with you all stumbling and trying to keep up behind him. 

Urgent. Dangerous.

“Extra room’s unlocked, you two!” you hear Sukuna call out after the both of you. And the last sight you see of him is when he mouths a silent “You’re welcome.”. One hand flashing you a thumbs up, the other adjusting the crotch of his pants. “Have fun.”

Satoru only clicks his tongue, moving very purposefully towards where Sukuna’s bedroom was instead.

“Woah- Toru, slow down.” you yelp, out of breath at his ruthless pace. But of course, since this is Satoru, he won’t have it any way other than stopping immediately in his tracks. Turning briefly around to you - only to wrap two arms around your waist, throwing you so easily over his shoulder like some ragdoll. Large palms tugging down the hem of your ass as he continues walking. “Y-you’re so-”

So what? Mean? Jealous? Playing right into your hands?

You don’t even know - nor do you really care, because Satoru finally reaches his destination.

“Fuck- here.” he spits.

Slam!

The door is flung open so hard it almost rattles off its hinges - and you aren’t faring any better. Because no sooner has Satoru stepped inside, he’s throwing you onto the king-sized bed in the middle of the room. 

The mattress dips as he slowly makes his way up to you, your legs quiver at how much he just looked like a man starved - eyes half-lidded and crazed, hair ruffled. Having finally found a full meal in years. Darkly eyeing down the way you’re splayed out like such a slut on the mattress, dress hiking up with each bounce at the sheer force of his throw. 

“So-” Satoru’s fingers reach out to lazily unbuckle the straps of your heels. Lingering much more than necessary. “-got anything to say?”

You bite your lower lip, holding back a delighted grin while his hands dance up your thigh to fiddle with that garter you knew he’d love. Slow. Agonizingly slow. Cocking your head in faux-confusion, “Hmm, like what?”

“Oh I dunno.” Satoru muses, saccharine sweet. And oh you could tell by his tone that he didn’t like that - didn’t want to like it. Running his fingers feather-light all the way down your legs to fling that useless garter onto the floor. “How about a ‘oh I’m so sorry, Toru, for bailing on you and acting like such a slut with the biggest asshole on campus jus’ to rile you up.’” 

You bristle at his mockingly high tone, oh yeah, your plan worked - hell, maybe too well. 

Teeth clenched, you hiss, “Well what are you gonna do about it, Toru?” Jutting your chin in defiance, “You’re not even my boyfriend. Maybe he jus’ fucks me better than you.”

“Say that again.”

Fuck, it takes you a second to even recognise his voice as your familiar friend-with-benefits. So jagged and raw. 

And yet, you’re still running your mouth - so close to his. Too close. “Maybe he jus’ fucks me be-”

Now, usually you were the one that’d shut up Satoru mid-sentence - this time, however, he’s the one crashing his lips against yours. Swallowing the rest of that sentence in such a messy clash of teeth, and spit, and desperation. 

Pulling ever-so-slightly on your glossy lower lip with his teeth, “Say it again, sweetheart.”

Oh, you knew you shouldn’t. Not one bit. But you do it anyway, letting out a muffled, “He f-”

And again. And again and again and-

Each and every time Satoru’s kissing away your mean little words, a large hang coming up around your throat to thumb apart your lips further. “Open.” he hisses against your mouth, so angry. 

It’s as if on autopilot when you do, bruised lips sagging open. Leaving the perfect lil’ opening for Satoru to spit onto your lolling tongue, once. Twice. Thrice. Until your bleary eyes are snapping open, whining against Satoru’s iron-hold fist when you pathetically try to pull away in embarrassment.

Because shit, let it be known that Gojo Satoru has perfect aim - except for when it comes to you. Letting the steady strip of spit splatter against the side of your mouth, gliding his thumb to smear it all over your lips.

“How cute.” Satoru coos, eyes hooded. He gives your pouty mouth a final, chaste peck, sucking softly on your bottom lip. Chuckling, “Makin’ me almost forget you were locking lips with some other bitch earlier.”

And Satoru has the audacity to laugh - laugh - hoarse, and humorless at the way your jaw drops open in disbelief. Humming into your throat, “Yer right, though, m’not your boyfriend.” He leaves little bite marks down your racing pulse, your collarbone, your tits spilling out of your sinful dress. Eyes just devouring you through his long lashes, “But that doesn’t make you any less mine.”

Sitting back on the mattress, all it takes him is a simple tug on your hips to seat you so prettily on his lap. Your legs trembling around his thick thighs, gasping at the feeling of something so rock-hard right under your clothed pussy. 

“Since ya like riding thighs so much, sweetheart-” Bunching your dress up at your hips, gripping your waist - tight. “-let’s see how you like mine.”

“What- oh ngh- fuck-” you’re gasping when he just starts dragging your sloppy hips down his thigh. Long, harsh movements that don’t even ease you into it. 

“Shit.” Satoru groans at the feeling of your cunt drooling, seeping into his skin already. He’s angling his head to spy on the heavenly view - hooking a finger around your drenched panties. “This damn thing is-” Pulling - tearing. “-in the way.”

You’re gasping when Satoru pulls back to look at you with a content grin, dangling the flimsy fabric around his finger like a badge of honor. “You’re- ngh- buying me a new one.”

“Oh, anything for you.” he’s grazing his teeth along your earlobe, fingers finding their way back on your hips to grind them on his thigh, back and forth. Up and down up and down up and- “Or is that what you wanted me to say?”

And shit Satoru is so mean with the way he gives your ass a sharp smack! Pulling your whiny face closer, grinning sternly against your lips. “Why don’t you ask that new boytoy of yours to buy you some, huh?” 

“B-but-”

“B-b-but-” he mocks, bouncing his knees up and down to get you to slide your cunt down his long thighs faster. Puffy folds spreading so shamefully open - so shamefully good. “You were so happy being such a slut for him before, right?” Just goading on your poor self to huff and puff in a way that made his cock twitch wildly. “So why are you here? With me?”

You’re stubbornly keeping your lips sealed shut to keep yourself from crying out - and oh, Satoru didn’t like that. Almost as much as he didn’t like seeing you giving those beautiful heart-eyes at some other bastard.

“Oh? Playing shy now?” Smack! “What happened to the slut from earlier, huh?” Bouncing his knee faster. The pads of his long fingers sting into your skin, sure to leave bruises for him to admire later - and for some people to take note of. Pulling - drawing your cunt to hump him like a bitch in heat. “Tha’s alright, pretty. I get it.” 

And Satoru - mean, mean Satoru - waits until your features soften in relief, almost letting out a sigh - before dipping a hand down to brush a thumb at your pretty clit. Hard. “Guess I’ll jus’ have to bring her out.”

“Oh- fuck fuck fuck-” you mewl, nails digging into Satoru’s shoulders when he starts to draw frenzied, methodical little circles on your throbbing clit. “S’too- good- oh my god-”

“‘Toru’ works jus’ fine, sweetheart.” 

But oh for how confident Satoru was talking you into insanity, he can’t help but gape in wonder down below him, awe-struck with how sloppy you were. He could see you sweet sweet juices trailing down his palm, that glossy sheen on his thigh. “You’re so dripping wet, pretty. Who’re you this wet for? Me or-” Satoru’s free hand comes up to squish your cheeks together into an embarrassing pout, turning your head to the adjacent wall, where Sukuna had a framed photograph of himself - because of course he did. “-him?”

Fuck, Satoru can’t even be mad at the way he feels your cunt clench in surprise - because the feeling is so heavenly. His pretty girl, getting off on just his thigh.

Hips stuttering as you move faster - sloppier. So, so filthily all the way from around his knee just till where you could feel the curve of his massive erection. 

He doesn’t even have to move your hips for you anymore - you’re moving as if on instinct at this point. And it makes him smirk, “Heh, such a slutty lil’ thing aren’t ya? Gettin’ off on my thigh?” Feeling you push your hips down hard - so hard. Pelvis desperately trying to hit all your sweet spots, “N’ who’s thigh are you riding right now?”

It’s all you can do to manage out a whimpering “Y-you.”

But, of course, that wasn’t enough. And Satoru’s only quirking his fingers just enough on your clit to make you cry out loud. “Yeah tha’s more like it. Louder now - who’s thigh are you riding right now?”

“You-”

“N’ who got you this fucking wet?”

You cry out when Satoru angles his leg up ever-so-slightly to watch gravity slide you faster down his thigh. Clit catching so fucking obscenely along the fabric of his pants. Ruthless.

“F-fuck you, Toru!”

“Mhmmm, thought so.” His hot tongue darts out to catch those big, fat tears rolling down your cheeks at the unforgiving stimulation. Muscled thighs burning lightly now - faster -  fingers so erratic. Only getting even more so. “Cuz you’re mine aren’t ya?”

You cum so hard - violent, even - that you don’t realize when you are. Just that you’re letting out a broken sob of Satoru’s name while he toys so relentlessly with your clit through your high.

Flashes of white in your vision, your heartbeat in your ears. So good that you’re almost tearing apart his button-up to shreds, hips jerky and sensitive as you your sloppy cunt gushes all over Satoru’s thigh. And, fuck, you’ve never felt so much like such a slut than when you look down to catch the glossy coating all over it. 

One that Satoru swipes thumb at - pooling the syrupy slick on his fingerpad before bringing up to his pretty pink lips and-

Pop! 

“Mmm.” He groans, muffled. “Fuck, you’re so sweet - could taste you forever.” Eyes rolling to the back of his head at your addictive taste, “Almost makes me forget that you didn’t answer my last question.”

And you don’t know what you’re reeling more from - the way that Satoru throws you around so easily, pushing you back until you’re splayed out against the plush mattress, shaky legs on his shoulders, arms around his neck. Or from the realization that shit, you’d been too busy losing your absolute sanity to answer his question. 

“I- I didn’t hear.” you make up an excuse, heels digging into the muscles of Satoru’s shoulders now. “I’m yours, Tor-”

“Now now, don’t try that with me, sweetheart.” Satoru cuts off your flurry of apologies, kissing softly at the ankle beside his neck while he pulls off your dress and bra. You didn’t need those, anyway. “Guess I just hafta prove it to ya, right?”

And fuck was he well and fully intent on proving it to you. Because the words are barely out of his mouth before he’s peeling down his drenched pants - and those unnecessary boxers right along with it, too. 

Satoru hisses when his painfully hard erection smacks against those toned abs, smearing precum in a small, filthy little pool. So so angry with the need to be inside your tight pussy - to prove to you from the inside out that you were his. 

“Ya like what you see?” he notices your fixed stare at his cock. Greedily following the precum beading at his fat, red head, making its way between Satoru’s prominent veins. To those tufts of white way down, down, down- “Hey there.” You’re startled out of your little reverie by two wet fingers being snapped in your face, “As flattered as I am, this is actually my favorite part.”

And fuck you could see why it was.

Because it felt so sinful to watch with bated breath at the way Satoru fists his swollen cock, gliding his weeping tip between your swollen folds. Letting your pretty pussy slobber all over him. Up and down. Again. And again. Teasing. 

“P-please, Toru-” you whine around the fifth time he’s “accidentally” nudging at your poor clit. Hips bucking up in need for more more more- “Enough teasing, jus’ wan’ you ngh- inside me.”

To Satoru, no sweeter words have been spoken. But he still manages to curl his lips into a leering smirk at your fucked-out, needy self. “Funny. Coming from someone who shit- pretty, you’re pussy’s trynna suck me up - who couldn’t wait to bail on me tonight for some other hah- jerk.” He presses his thick tip down on your clit, on purpose. “Would’ve fucked you ngh- real nicely, tonight, y’know? What a shame.” 

You can only watch when he draws his hips back, lining up right with your sloppy hole. “What a shame m’gonna ah- fuck you like the slut you are right now.”

It’s all that’s said before he’s pushing in - to your snug cunt, to your fucking lungs it felt like. 

“Oh- oh fuck, Toru-” you keen, back arching off the bed at the stretch. Satoru’s girth was rubbing up against your gummy walls and stretching them out so good. All the way until all you could feel was the rapid thump! thump! thump! of his throbbing cock pushing between your legs. “God, s’too big-”

“No no no, you don’t get to say that.” Satoru spits into your open mouth, hips jutting forward like some animal in short, shallow grinds to bully himself deeper. “You don’t get to fuck- ngh- act all coy when you brought this upon yourself.” His words come out faster - more slurred. Falling out faster and faster as his hips do, “Not when you decided t-to act like a lil’ slut hah- n’ guess what?”

Whether it was a rhetorical question or not - you weren’t sure. All you know is that you’re mewling up tearily at such a feral Satoru, “W-what?”

To which he only smiles against your lips, hips suddenly going still. Dangerously still. “N’ that means m’gonna fuck you like one.”

Before you can even react, he’s pushing in all in one go. Fuck, it never got easier even after so long. 

“Oh- fuck I can’t take it- all-” you cry helplessly as he keeps pushing past that first ring of resistance. The curve of his cock massaging all those hidden sweet spots inside while he keeps splitting you apart deeper and deeper - not daring to even slow down. Not until Satoru’s well satisfied with the kiss of your bruised cervix against his thick head ,heavy balls smacking against your marked-up ass. 

“See? Knew you could take it, you always do.”

And then he’s moving - not with the slow, persistent determination from before, no. Satoru was so animalistic, bouncing you unapologetically on the mattress. 

Hands keeping your hips still to let him ram his entire cock inside your tight pussy. Over and over and-

“Still don’t think you’re not- fuck- mine, sweetheart?” Satoru runs a hand through his hair to see you better, to drink in the sight of your puffy folds bulging around his cock. Struggling to take in each mean thrust, “Because this seems ngh- reeeeal convincing that you are.”

You scrunch your brows in a pathetic plea, “I-I am yours, Toru- ngh-”

But he only brings his ear closer, “What was th-that? Didn’t hah- hear you-” Hands pushing apart your legs until they burned at the stretch. Until you were so shamefully on display for him, “You hah- need more convincing? Oh, I see.”

“I don’t! Oh- T-ngh”

It’s all you can do to let out teary, broken moans when Satoru rolls his hips harder. So carefully practiced with the way he locates your sweet spot easily. 

“Yeah? You hah- like that?” he groans, words punctuated by a deep, harsh thrust. All hitting the bulls-eye each and every time. “Like me f-fuckin’ you like you’re mine?”

At this point, you’re scrambling at the damp sheets, the headrest, Satoru’s shoulders - just anything and everything to hold onto whatever’s left of your sanity - which seemed to be slipping away with each press of Satoru’s head against your g-spot. 

But it still wasn’t enough.

Languidly, he brings a hand over to pinch your ravaged clit between two fingers. Having you whine so prettily with each roll of his fingertips. “Answer the question, pretty.”

“Yes!” you gasp, feet kicking at the sheer overstimulation. “I love it- ngh shit shit shit- I love it, Toru- love it so much.”

Shit, you might’ve just broken him.

Because while you may have thought that this answer would calm your Satoru down a bit - it only made him snap. Eyes widening, hips stuttering, swollen lips falling into such a fucked-out oh! - he looked like an absolute wreck.

Letting out a low, throaty groan of, “Oh fuck, you’re gonna be the ngh- death of me.” With this, he’s pressing his sweaty forehead onto yours, breaths coming out in feverish little puffs that match his merciless cadence. “Wish they could fuck- see you like this.” Ramming inside you harder - meaner. Giving your clit a light smack! before he starts playing with it once more. “I’d ah- fuck you in front of all those losers that think they have a chance just to show off how good you are f’me. Because you’re fuck fuck fuck- my good girl, right?”

You nod as much as you can, head just spinning with each brush of Satoru’s dick against your sensitive spots. Fingers twirling at your clit just as dizzyingly. Letting your slick glisten all over his wrist - his painfully squeezing balls - all the way up to his abs with how hard he was fucking into your tight pussy.

The both of you were getting so sloppy now. No care or concern for the party still raging on outside, not when your gummy walls were sucking up Satoru’s aching cock like that. 

“No one ngh- can fuck you like this.” Satoru sucks on your lower lip. Ragged, like it pained him to keep talking, but he couldn’t stop anyway. “No one.” Milking you harder and harder like he was high off your sweet moans. More desperate - depraved. “Cuz m’yours.”

And he repeats that - into your lips, into your forehead, down your neck - over and over while you cum so fucking hard all on his swollen cock. Plushy walls squeezing so tight that it was almost difficult to fuck you through your high.

Ripping out strangled, raspy groans with each clench of your slutty cunt, “N’ you’re mine.” You think your vision gets hazy through your climax, and the only thing you can hear are those obscene squelches and Satoru’s voice. Like a mantra, “You’re mine- you’re mine you’re mine you’re mine- fuck you’re mine.”

Not straying too far behind, Satoru cums and he thinks he sees the pearly gates of heaven - with you, such an angel. 

So sweetly whining into his ear when he’s painting your walls white, pumping rope after rope of thick, hot cum into your awaiting pussy.

Blinking back his vision only to eye the way it overspills, dribbling down your slit with each harsh ram of his hips. 

“Wan’ go again-” Satoru groans. Only fucking his seed deeper and deeper and oh- he didn’t want to stop. Didn’t think he could stop with the way you were bringing out each and every single last drop like it was delicious. “F-fuck I needa go again. Swee-”

SLAM!

“Woah, seems the two of you are having a looota fun.”

Still not pulling out, both you and Satoru scramble to cover yourselves up with Sukuna’s now-soaked sheets. Well, mainly cover you up, for Satoru had no shame in staring the other man down. Scoffing out, “The fuck are you fuck- don’ squeeze me so hard, pretty- the fuck are you here for?”

“It’s my room, n’ I had a feeling you’d be here.” Sukuna lets the door shut so agonizingly slow, flashing the two of you a lazy, devilish grin. “Besides - this is my date, after all.”

A/N. Plagiarism of work not authorized.

pervert kenma,,,,my gosh👩‍🍳🤌

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ɢᴇɴʀᴇ: ꜱᴍᴜᴛ, ᴛʜɪʀꜱᴛ, ᴍᴅɴɪ 18+

ᴛᴡ: ᴘᴀɴᴛʏ ꜱᴛᴇᴀʟɪɴɢ, ᴄᴀʀ ꜱᴇx, ɪᴍᴘʟɪᴇᴅ ᴄᴏᴄᴋᴡᴀʀᴍɪɴɢ, ᴏʀᴀʟ, ᴠᴏʏᴇᴜʀɪꜱᴍ, ᴇxʜɪʙɪᴛɪᴏɴɪꜱᴍ, ᴛʜʀᴏᴀᴛ ꜰᴜᴄᴋɪɴɢ, ᴅᴀᴅᴅʏ ᴋɪɴᴋ, ᴘᴇᴛ ɴᴀᴍᴇ "ᴋɪᴛᴛᴇɴ". ᴘʟᴇᴀꜱᴇ ʟᴇᴛ ᴍᴇ ᴋɴᴏᴡ ɪꜰ ɪ ᴍɪꜱꜱᴇᴅ ᴀɴʏ!

ᴀꜱ ᴀʟᴡᴀʏꜱ ʀᴇʙʟᴏɢꜱ ᴀʀᴇ ᴀᴘᴘʀᴇᴄɪᴀᴛᴇᴅ, ᴘʟᴇᴀꜱᴇ ᴀɴᴅ ᴛʜᴀɴᴋ ʏᴏᴜ.

a/n: honestly.. not too proud ouf this one?? like i feel like i knew what i wanted to say but couldn't necessarily get my words out onto paper?? regardless i hope you enjoy!

ʙᴀᴄᴋ ᴛᴏ ᴘᴇʀᴠᴇʀᴛ! ᴍ.ʟɪꜱᴛ | ʙᴀᴄᴋ ᴛᴏ ᴍᴀɪɴ ᴍ.ʟɪꜱᴛ

pervert!kenma.. kenma, in general, makes my pussy quake... but pERVERT!KENMA??? let's talk about it.

pervert!kenma is really laid back, but when he wants something, he’s going to get it. point, blank, period.

we all know kenma is a streamer. he plays games for a living. what’s his second favorite thing other than streaming? having you sit pretty on your knees underneath his desk. he makes sure always to wear low-hanging sweats, that way, you can easily pull them down and have full access to his cock. he loves the feeling of your wet mouth keeping his cock nice and warm. he does this the entire time he’s streaming. whenever he reads a comment he dislikes or a particular level is upsetting him, he’ll make sure to release his anger by pounding your throat. he’ll display a “be back later!” banner on his stream and mute his microphone. he’ll move a hand away from his keyboard, it finding purchase in your hair and gripping at the roots of your locks. at this moment in time, you’re nothing but a toy, a stress reliever for kenma. his hand drags your head along his cock, curses, and groans flying past his lips each time you gag around him. he’s fully utilizing his 15 minutes. <3

pervert!kenma loves to hold special events on his stream… special events where you’re playing games for him. his fans and followers think he’s busy for the day and has his significant other substituting for him or even just letting you have fun on his account. but in reality, he’s only switched spots with you. you’re always so pretty and obedient for him, getting on your knees when told. why not return the favor? pervert!kenma has your legs slightly spread and his head wedged between your thighs. pink tinted lips wrap around your sensitive nub and suck. he’d be a liar if he said watching you struggle to play and talk with the viewers wasn’t entertaining. the quiver in your voice, how you’re trying to wriggle away from him, has him overflowing with animalistic lust.

“y/n are you okay? me? i-i’m fine!” you stutter out.

“why are you stuttering so much? is the game scary?”

“you can stop playing if you’re sick!”

“please take care of yourself!”

one by one, you read the comments aloud while kenma tends to your leaking pussy, slurping and gulping down your sweet, sweet juices.

pervert!kenma loves spoiling you and insists on buying you everything you could ever want, but of course, he buys you things he wants you to have. and it’s always the skimpiest little outfits. tight shirts that hug your breasts, tiny skirts that stop at the middle of your thigh, ones so tiny that if you bend down, everyone would have a complete view of your ass. pervert!kenma loves the gawks and random stares you get when prancing around in said outfits. he can practically read the filthy thoughts going through people's minds when they see you. it riles him up because while they’re thinking it, he’s the only one who can act on those impure thoughts.

this routine is the same, and it always ends with you face down, ass up in the back of kenma’s car. both of his hands grip onto your waist and guide you along his shaft, cum filled balls slapping and bouncing off your puffy pussy lips.

“ken ken, please~.”

“please, what? you look so pretty, kitten. do me favor?” he says before leaning down, his chest pressed against your back as he whispers in your ear, “shut up and let daddy fuck you. and don’t make a mess on my leather seats, i would hate to have to punish you.”

he literally makes you squirt uncontrollably on purpose, so he has a reason to punish you <3

days when pervert!kenma has to go into his office to handle in-person business, he always brings the necessities; himself, headphones, and a pair of your worn panties. when all of his meetings are concluded, he’ll prop his phone up and lean back in his chair. you're not met with a hi, hello, or even his face, no. you’re met with a swollen tip, one that's oozing precum, and your favorite pair of light pink panties wrapped around his shaft. his hips are thrusting sloppily up into his hand, imagining the cloth was your wet cunt. his eyes lock onto you, his tongue slipping out to wet his lips before mumbling, “be a good kitten, and show me your pussy, yeah? let daddy see you. ”

taglist: @shalnarkswhoree @ushijimasslut @kawaiikooki @fiona782 @yaqueerqueen @papitoshi @omiikeii @SATISFYINGLYBLUE @crapimahuman @shdwgarden @tirzamisu @booksweet @kisseswithkai @itsmeteiiteii @babydai @matssuncxmslxt @bakugobaki @tifhen @tithesandofferings @dadbodosamu @eternallyvenus @devilgirlcrybabiey @fsrintaro @mid-night-blossoms @cheryly @cinnamonwishes @hisvillainess

haze.

✯ pairing - jean kirstein x fem! reader

contains - use of drugs (weed), size kink, praise

it was probably the weed that made jean look so good to you. his eyes clouded red with those intense green-gold orbs shining back at you. if this was how smoking with jean would be like, you would’ve done it a lot earlier.

you were seated on his lap, hands to his chest as he stared at you, a small smirk planted on his lips. the vibrations of the speakers in your almost empty apartment were tuned out and you felt like your only focus was the man in front of you.

“what’s up, pretty girl? feeling good?” you shook your head in your dumb and dazed state. nimble fingers run along your sides, dipping into the hem of your underwear. you had earlier complained about how hot it was; jean giving you his button up for you to wear as you ditched your bottoms.

his eyes slowly trailed down your body as he pulls down your underwear teasingly. your nipples hardened under his touch, poking out of the thin, white fabric.

you shuffled a bit helping him to remove the garment. “jean!” you shriek as you feel his fingers dip in and out of your cunt. he was buried deep—deeper than you could ever reach and you don’t know if it’s your euphoric state or just his skilled fingers pressing just at the perfect spot, that have you seeing stars already.

“that’s a good girl” he tilts his head to the side, narrowing his eyes as he licks his lips, watching how you grind on his digits. you dip your head into the crook of his neck, moaning softly. “feels good” you manage to rasp out.

jean picks up his pace, feeling you clamp onto his fingers. you can feel yourself growing closer and closer to your high. “‘s too much! slow down” you cry out but he doesn’t seem to be fazed at your whimpers, only making sure you get to your orgasm—and fast.

jolts of pleasure soar through your body as you finally cum. the remnants of your orgasm drip down his fingers as he pulls them up to your mouth. “open for me” he demands, his hand gripping your jaw as he slides his two fingers on your tongue. you wrap your lips around them, tasting your bitter arousal.

you can feel his erection through his slacks and see the dark spot created from the precum of his leaking tip. you reach down to unbuckle his belt before a strong grip moves them away.

“ah ah ah, don’t be so eager”. he lets your wrists go before undoing his belt and whipping his cock from his boxers at a tantalizing pace.

“you’re so big” you say as you fix your eyes on his hard on. bead after bead of precum dribble out and you can tell from how flushed red his tip was, that he needed you, and needed you bad.

“i know my pretty girl can take it” he coos as he grips your hips and hovers you over his length. you’re not even sure you can take it with the way you struggle to sink down on the head. the stretch burns along with the way his fingers dig at the soft flesh of your waist. “you can do it—that’s it, that’s my girl” jean says when you finally bottom out.

you bounce slowly, furrowing your brows in pleasure as he fills you up just right, the head of his cock brushing against your cervix. he throws his head back with a groan tightening his hold on your waist. you take it as a sign to go faster.

“fuck, just like that” he moans languidly, squeezing his eyes shut. if the weed wasn’t messing with his head enough, it was surely the way your cunt sucked him up, taking in more than it could.

you grind your hips to search for your sweet spot and move a little bit faster when you find it. you felt a haze wash over you, feeling such intense pleasure at the way his cock abused your sweet spot. even more so when he planted his feet to buck up into you harder and much faster.

“you, feel so, good” he grunts between thrusts. sweet moans tumble from your lips as you feel your second orgasm nearing. “too good! jean, ‘s too much!” you cry out in hopes he would listen this time, but he doesn’t, continuing to fuck up into you.

before you knew it, you were squirting around his length, your arousal coating the both of your thighs. “fuck” you breathed out but his strokes didn’t stop then. he chased his own high and within moments, filled your cunt with white ropes of his cum.

“good girl” he gasps, recollecting his breath

“good fucking girl”

tags - @rekiri @snkfade @fiaficsxo @kingdomofaeries @sleepyrintaro @pinkchanelbag @glittrkink

『NEED YOU, DADDY』 | Bokuto Koutarou

WARNINGS: age gap, mentions of alcohol, unprotected sex, breeding, praising, daddy kink, manhandling, rough sex, mentions of pregnancy.

WORD COUNT: 2.7k

AO3

dilf!bokuto who forgot to date someone because of his focus on his career, especially when he was getting ready to retire.

it’s been so long since he’s been in someone’s bed and it’s killing him. he blames it on his job, and maybe it was, but the main reason is his insecurities.

bokuto doesn’t have the defined abs he had in his early twenties, now the muscles blend with the small fat of his ‘dad body’.

he often finds spots of flaccid skin around his hips and he hates it. his hard chest is now soft and flabby (a perfect pillow ff you ask me), he misses his old athletic body.

even with a special workout program made by his friend iwaizumi, he still cannot go back to the way he was years ago.

and he can’t bring himself to take someone home when he looks like that.

but then, his daughter comes to visit during her college break with a friend she met on campus, who coincidentally lived in the same neighborhood as her yet they’ve never met before. and as you take your first steps into the bokuto household, koutarou is sure he’s fucked.

you’re so sweet and kind, extremely polite as you greet your friend’s father, but he could see there was something else behind your gaze.

after all, how could you not peak your interest in him when he's like that? welcoming you into his house so warmly, big grin on his face as he pulls you to a tight hug. wearing slightly tight briefs that give you a glimpse of how his shaft rests on his thigh, broad back moving under his shirt. it is hard to be satisfied with just watching.

he sees the way you side eye him as he cooks some snacks for y’all, subtly flexing his biceps a little more (cause he’s a show off). and he totally sees the mini skirt you wear when you come visit them the next day.

you bump into him when you go to the kitchen to get some soda, and press your chest on his to get through the space between the counter and the island, even though there’s enough space for both of you.

bokuto gulps as you bend over to take a better look at what’s in the bottom of his fridge, giving him a clear sight of your red lacy panties.

he chokes on his tea and he blushes as you turn around to face him, fake worry on your face and innocent eyes, asking if he was okay, acting as if nothing had happened.

a few days later, his kid goes to her mother’s house and he finds himself alone again. that is, until he hears a few knocks on the door.

you stand by his door frame with a pack of beer cans and a few snacks. he invites you in and you set yourselves in his living room. an unsaid knowledge of just why you're there falls into the air of his house as your eyes meet.

your body language says it all: legs crossed towards him, torso leaned to hear him better, hand brushing on his thigh every now and then.

and he wants to give you what you want, but he can't help but overthink.

you're a young, beautiful, and hot, girl, didn't you deserve a guy who's body could be just as good-looking as yours?

"you know, bokuto-san, it's really hard to find good boys out there." you say, fidgeting with the metal seal of your can. "most of the guys on campus are assholes."

"having boy problems, sweetheart?"

"yeah." you sigh. "i just- i need a mature man." you lock eyes with him, showing him slight puppt eyes under your long lashes. "i need someone who's able to take care of me, bokuto-san. 'm tired of spending so many nights alone, cold." he feels your hand crailing up his knee and suddenly the room starts to get a little hotter. "when akane told me you're alone too, i could barely believe it. how could such a handsome, lovely man not be with someone? i'm sure you also need a someone to take care of you too, bokuto-san."

your hand stops by the top of his thigh, dangerously close to his already half hard length. you lean in slowly, like a snake seducing its prey. bokuto finds himself hypnotized, totally devoted to your charms.

"so i thought, why don't we help each other out?"

you can see his expression of hesitation and somewhat fear, and it's amusing to see that big, strong man submitting to you so easily.

you slip your free hand up his shirt and brush your lips on his ear as you continue.

"tell me, bokuto-san, if i'm a good girl for you, will you be a good man for me too?"

koutarou can only gulp, he can't believe he's crumbling to a girl who's his daughter's age, yet, he can't deny the burning desire in his chest and pants.

"you don't know what you're messing with, sweetheart." he warns.

"i'm willing to find out... daddy."

you start to kiss his neck, climbing on his lap while you do so.

"shit..." you roll your hips back and forth softly, only making his erection harder.

you begin to pull his shirt out of him but he stops you. you look up to him and he avoids your gaze, however, you catch a glimpse of his reddish cheeks.

"no need to get shy on me, handsome." you say, delivering a kiss to his jaw.

he lets go of your hands and you take the cloth off him, displaying his scrumptious upper body. bokuto still keeps looking to the side, fearing you might change your mind now. but he's surprised as you let your hands wander around his body and return your attention to his neck, leaving hickeys and bites all over it.

"you're so sexy, daddy, fuck."

it's overwhelming, the feeling of your hot hands on his skin, the friction between your bodies, your lips on his neck, it's too much, and it's too good.

his hands find your waist and his head spins at how tiny it seems under his big hands. however it is short lasted as you take his wrists and guide him to grab your ass.

you whimper as he grops on it, pressing you harder on him.

"let me take care of you, daddy."

you lower your legs to kneel on the floor before him but he cups your cheeks before you do so. air is stolen from your lungs as he kisses you roughly, tongue deep in your mouth, exploring it. you kiss him back with just as much hunger, and moan against his lips as he completely dominates you.

the kiss that is rough but you can still feel some tenderness in it, like there’s something more to it than just lust.

you laugh under your breath when you pull away, still with a string of saliva connecting both lips. you give him one last peck before kneeling in front of him.

koutarou spreads his legs wider and you put your hands on his knees, then catch the band of his sport shots with your teeth.

"you're quite a tease, aren't you, doll?"

you smirk at the new pet name and pull his shots along with his underwear down. his throbbing dick slaps his abdomen, your eyes going wide and throat gulping as you acknowledge his size.

“oh, c’mon, don’t get shy on me now, sweetheart. wasn’t this what you wanted?” he smirks smugly. “i told you you didn’t know what you were messing with.”

koutarou leans in and catches your lips in another kiss while he guides you to stand on your knees.

“get on the coffee table, all in fours.” he mumbles against you.

you do as you’re told, pushing the snacks and beer cans away to make space. once you’re in position, bokuto folds your dress upwards so it’s sitting on your waist, and pushes your panties to the side. he presses his thumb in your entrance just slightly, then drags your precum along your folds, wetting your puffy cunt.

“what a preyty little pussy,” he hums, delivering little kisses to the swell of your ass. “wonder if daddy’s big cock is gonna fit in here.”

you start whimpering as he teases you, slowly stroking you and lazily rubbing your clit.

“d- daddy…” you whine, begging for more.

he licks a long stripe on your arousal, making you gasp at the sudden feeling. his thumb slips into your fluttering hole as he attacks your labia and clitoris.

koutarou eats you out like a starved man, and well, he is. the former ace’s always been more of a giver than a taker and he can’t remember the last time he had his face buried between someone’s legs, your sweet taste on his tongue only makes him more and more feral as the seconds passes by, he feels himself eager to make you scream just from his tongue.

“fuck, daddy! so good!”

your wetness drips down his chin and a little on his chest. the sounds echoing from his mouth and your stupidly wet cunt are hopelessly sloppy, echoing through the whole room.

he replaces his thrusting thumb with his tongue, fucking you with precision.

with one hand on your hips he keeps you still, and uses the other to stroke his pulsating dick.

“ah! daddy! gonna make me cum!”

he laughs at your whining. minutes ago you were acting tough all over him and now he can see your legs trembling.

bokuto lets go of his cock for a moment and grabs your hips with both hands, pressing you even harder on his mouth so he can taste you roughly.

your orgasm comes hard and without a notice you’re shaking and making a true mess on your friend’s father.

“fuck.” you mumble, struggling to keep yourself standing.

koutarou hugs your waist and pulls you to sit on his lap on the couch again, quickly taking your dress and panties off of you. he keeps a hand stroking your sensitive and swollen clit while the other bumps his length.

“i want you, need you, daddy.” you say, snuggling your face on his neck.

“let me grab a con-”

“no. I want it raw. I want to feel all of you.”

“are you sure, pretty?” you nod. "i need words."

you lower your hand to meet his and grasp his cock, running your hand up and down firmly.

"i am sure, papí. want to feel you inside me, can't you feel how wet i am for you?"

his hand catches your neck harshly, bringing you to a kiss.

"there's no coming back now, sweetheart."

you lift yourself and align his dick on your entrance, then place both hands on his shoulders. he spreads your thighs and slowly thrusts upwards, stretching your walls as your nails dig on his skin.

"fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, daddy! 's so big."

"shit." bokuto closes his eyes shut as he bottoms out, feeling out of air as you clamp on him so tight he can't move an inch. “so fucking tight.”

his mind gets foggy, it almost hurts how much he wants to ram into you without worrying about anything else but painting your soft insides white. he stays still for a while, allowing you to get used to his size and him to tune down his hunger.

after a few minutes, koutarou starts to pull out and you look down to where your bodies meet. you start to feel empty as his tip is the only thing you left inside you.

he thrusts in roughly and unwarningly and a loud moan escapes your lips. your fingers tangle themselves on his black and white strands, pulling them back as pleasure takes over your core.

bokuto pulls out slowly, but pushes himself in quickly, stealing lewd sounds from you and your sweetly welcoming hole.

“this pussy’s perfect, one of the best i ever had.” he groans and you blush at the praise. “daddy’s cock fits perfectly, doesn’t it?” you hum in affirmation, unable to speak since each thrust of his steals the air from your lungs.

he picks up his pace, turning you into nothing but a moaning mess. his body is hot under yours and the way your tiddies bounce in unison with his movements makes his head spin.

“‘m gonna cum.” he warns.

his hips start to stutter a bit and you move your own body up and down, meeting his thrusts.

“cum inside me, papí. want your load. wanna make you a daddy again.”

“oh, fuck it.”

koutarou throws away anything that was holding him back.

he lifts you out of him and throws you to the side, landing in your elbows and knees in the leather couch.

you turn your head back to question him but you’re roughly pushed back to the couch. his calloused hand is wrapped around your neck, pushing you down as he suddenly starts to fuck you from behind.

“you want me to fill this pretty pussy? want to carry my babies?” the sound of skin clapping must be echoing in the whole house now, along with your screams of pleasure. “i’ll knock you up so good you’ll feel my cum in your tummy for days.”

bokuto hits your soft walls with precision, kissing your cervix and making your eyes roll to the back of your head. you start to clench around him, bringing both of you closer to your climaxes.

“daddy!”

you squirm and shake under him creaming around his dick. he moans at the sensation and he fucks your cum back inside you without direction. all it takes is a few more thrusts and he's cumming deep inside you.

he looks down to see the absolute mess you two made. your juices drip down his balls and thighs, he pulls out slowly to see even more of his white load slipping out of your fluttering cunt.

the sight is mesmerizing, he thinks, but it's still not enough.

he takes the cum with his fingers and push it back into you. you whimper as he does so, only indulging the feeling in his twitching dick.

bokuto turns you to lay on your back and pushes your legs to your chest in a matting press, taking no time to align his hard cock to your entrance again.

he shoves himself inside you in the same crazy pace as before, lips brushing against yours as he mumbles about how good you feel.

after a while, you can't remember how many times you came, all you can feel is his load making your thighs sticky, the sensitivity in your whole body and your lips pulsating.

"just one more, sweetheart, let me fill your needy cunt just once more." this is probably the third time he said it would be the last. you can't even find it in yourself to say something, you definitelydon't want to deny him but a little break would be good. "you're doing so good, little girl. you look the prettiest like this." he says between kisses.

the more he fucked into you, the more sweet and tender he became, not with his dick, of course, but with his words and kisses. he made you feel precious, pretty, special even, and you figure there must be way more to your friend's father than just a big shaft and hot body.

bokuto wipes the tears off your face with small pecks, slightly smiling when he feels your arms and legs wrap around him in a tight hug.

"there, there, sweetie." he coos. "relax, you did so good. c'mon."

he grabs your underwear from the side and slips it in your legs, then gently taps your now covered pussy, as if congratulating it for its hard work.

he picks you up in his arms, takes you upstairs to his room, and lays you gently on the bed. he goes back downstairs to get you some water then joins you in his king side mattress.

koutarou holds you close to his chest, rubbing your back up and down and massaging your sore and bruised skin. he falls asleep a little after you do, satisfied to know that once he wakes up, not only your pussy will still be dripping his seed but he'll be able to fuck it back into you all over again.

masterlist

likes and reblogs are appreciated!

also, i'm doing a milestone event to celebrate the blog reaching 100 followers! I'll be taking requests for drabbles, so if you want, you can check the rules and participate here!

warnings: NSFW🔞, heavy somnophilia, non con, age gap (nanami is 40, reader is 22) poor nanami :3 this is a long one~

coming home from college to surprise your mom sounds like a great idea until her boyfriend, nanami, mistakes you for her and shoves his dick in you.

it’s not your fault you dozed off in her bed, waiting for her to come home from work. she’d never mentioned her late nights, and you never thought to ask. maybe if you hadn’t slipped into one of the oversized, decidedly masculine shirts and baggy sweatpants from her closet, it wouldn’t have been so easy for someone to mistake you for her. but honestly, that’s not your fault either. your mom had packed up your old clothes from your childhood room ages ago so you figured she wouldn’t mind if you put on some of her clothes after being on the nasty train all day. and it’s not like you asked for the gene that makes you look enough like her from behind for it to be a problem—especially when they’re drunk enough to not tell the difference.

your first real mistake, the one that’s entirely on you, is never being able to sleep on your back. you’re a side sleeper through and through—so used to the position that you didn’t even stir when nanami stumbled in, muttering half-forgotten lyrics to an old jazz song, sighing deeply in that heavy, drunk way older men do every now and then. he tossed his clothes off, carelessly flinging them toward the hamper.

it’s definitely your fault for suggesting your mom get this high-quality mattress, telling her, ‘you’re getting older, gotta take care of yourself.’ it’s so comfortable that you can’t help but drool in peace when nanami collapses onto the bed, pressing fully into your backside as he slurs, “heeey, honey— look at you, all wrapped up in my clothes? did you— hiccup— miss me?”

it’s barely your fault that the feeling of a warm, hard muscled, naked full grown man wrapping his heavy arms around you leaves you undisturbed. even when he starts grinding something mean against your upper back thigh and licking at the shell of your ear, it’s on you for not coming to.

even as nanami’s rough hand, that he had washed before crawling into bed despite being drunk off of his ass—pressed against the lower half of your face, you only stirred slightly.

“let’s get it on, baby. ‘m sorry for what i said earlier, i don’t wanna fight. gonna do you real good like you want me to. read so many— hiccup— articles,” he slurs lowly into your ear with hot, whiskey breath as his thumb rubs your cheekbone soothingly.

you have to give yourself some credit though, your subconscious had almost woken you up when he shoved a hand into your sweatpants. he brushes the tips of his middle fingers against the gusset of your panties with a, “ohh, there she is.” the first half of his two long fingers take up the entirety of your labia, if you were awake maybe you’d even feel the way an experienced nanami found your clit before even feeling around for it first.

you can’t fault nanami too much, a small alert in the back of his wasted head went off when your thinly covered labia felt a little shorter in length than he had remembered. but poor nanami figured he’s just drunk, that and he hasn’t touched his girlfriend or been touched by her in quite a while. he can’t even pinpoint the last time his oppressed balls were emptied.

his movements are nice and slow, rotating between sensual circles and soft strokes from the top of where your inner lips start and down to the bottom where your hole is starting to wake up before you even do. his touch isn’t fast and rushed like all of the college boys you’re used to who are driven purely by raging hormones.

rather, nanamis rubbing on your pussy is enjoyable for him, his eyes are closed in bliss as he noses at your neck and hair. your pussy is warm, the heat is rapidly escalating in temperature with every stimulating touch. he basks in the feeling of slowly coaxing your clit to start thumping against his fingers when he pushes against the hood covering it in two short pressing nudges, using your panties to soften the sensation.

he coos an appreciative hum when your leg muscles twitch in response and your hands jerk softly as you sleep. it didn’t take long for your clit to go from subtle thumps to needy throbbing. “i know, i knoow— don’t say it— hiccup— you want me to be more rough with you. but, still needa get you wet for an easy slide into this honeypot.”

if you were awake, you’d fucking laugh at the old man term for pussy— then again maybe you wouldn’t because he’s starting to move his fingers back and forth with forceful pressure to wedge your panties between your outer lips. he nibbles on your neck as you let out a sleepy whimper. your nipples and lower abdomen ripple in a wave of tingles as his fingers use the fabric to produce a delicious friction. it’s akin to a paper towel being set down on a puddle of water, the way your gusset soaks up the abundance of leaking arousal the second he wedges the cloth in, making a dark patch.

that dark patch is balmy and sticky, aiding in a nice slip and slide for his massage. “fuck,” he grunts into the side of your head, “got so sticky wet so fast. see?— hiccup— you do enjoy when i’m soft on you, baby.”

the way he emphasizes the word ‘do’ is as if he’s made this point before. if you were awake, you’d probably be able to connect the dots that he and your mom are having intimacy issues but who are you kidding, you’d be too distracted with the way he’s rubbing you in a relentlessly sweet way that he’s enjoying as much as your body is.

your pussy has been adequately prepped for minutes now, but he figures since you’re sleeping, you can’t make him hurry up and stick it in you like his girlfriend always rushes him to do. he can do what he pleases right now, thats what nanami thinks your mom’s argument was anyways, for him to do get a little greedy.

truthfully, he’s acting out of bitterness, upset that your mother told him she’s no longer attracted to him because of how soft and kind he is. his way of ‘getting back at her’ is by taking his time to touch and play with what he thinks is her pussy until he wishes to stop. nanami’s instincts when he’s upset is usually to comfort and cherish, not hurt and destroy, he genuinely thinks he’s in the wrong right now by taking all the time he wants to play with your pussy.

to hear a ‘squelch’ everytime he prods at your clothed cunt is diabolical. one would think the cloth would prohibit any kind of ‘chu’ noises but even when drunk, nanami is too skilled, he’s teasing you expertly by simply relying on his own desires to do so.

nanami is lost in the act, addicted to your twitching clit and the clench he feels your hole make every time he brushes against the entrance of it. even your reproductive organs are anticipating some kind of penetration. but the sound of a muffled, sleepy cry against his palm snaps him out of it. he chuckles and peppers kisses against your shivering neck, uttering apologies between every kiss. his fingers transition to apply pressure to the entirety of your labia in attempt hold you over for just a moment, aware of the silent plea of your body yearning for penetration.

“okay, okay, i feel it. i know. shh,” he coos into your ear as your legs and abdomen jerk due to the pressure to your sensitive cunt, “need something to milk, hmm? you’re in luck, my cock needs milking, you— uh— slut.”

nanami’s trying his very best, using all of his drunk brain power to think back to that article titled ‘seven ways to spice up your sex life and please your unsatisfied woman! (intense, hard sex for beginners).’

1. be dominant— check. he hopes playing with your pussy from behind with a hard hand over your mouth the entire time counts. a subsection of this said to ‘take what you want!’ and he certainly has so far, subjecting your unconscious body to torturous fondling. he thinks he’s doing alright.

2. mean dirty talk— check. calling you a slut once, although very poorly, counts.. right?

3. consensual non-consensual play— check. he had to put on his reading glasses to read the definition on a site called ‘urban dictionary’ to understand what the fuck somnophilia was after your mom had said it as if it were an insult, that he ‘hasn’t even tried that’ on her, in their little argument. that’s what led him down the private online browser black hole to find this article in the first place.

already three down and a few more to go, nanami’s feeling confident as he shoves your sweatpants and soaked panties down until they’re at your knees. hazy eyes flit down to coordinate his movements as much as his drunk ass can, all while murmuring, “lets get these— hiccup— off of you. sorry, just gonna—yeah— shove ‘em down.”

is there any excuse for not waking up by now that makes more sense than to say you’re exhausted from midterms? a nice, wet dream where someone with a deep voice is holding you, playing with your cunt, and whispering sweet nothings into your ear is just too inviting for a college student who’s only possible relief is a two-pump frat boy who spreads a rumor that you suck in bed after.

nanami uses one hand to press on your lower tummy to jut your butt out towards him before using the same hand to grip the base of his hard cock. he shivers as his fingers, slick and sticky with your fluid, graze against his dick, his focused, squinted eyes locked on your arched ass as he aims himself.

“ready?” he mutters to you, more a question to himself than anything, as his tip brushes softly against the outside of your entrance.

“three, two,” he slurs as he counts down, hand on your mouth tightening as he pushes your head back into his chest to prepare for your awakening. he pauses for much longer between two and one, gulping to himself. he’s applying enough tension with his hips so that his tip presses to the outside of your cunt without having to hold it there, so he can use his free hand to gently pull one of your lips away as to expose your silky, toasty insides for better access.

“one,” he breathes out with eyes blinking, a long pause delaying any movement despite one being the number he’s supposed to penetrate you on.

this feels wrong, your body, who he believes is your moms, is blissfully asleep and still. it’s as if he’s waiting for you to give him a little encouragement, a muffled whimper or something, but you don’t. he wonders what you’re dreaming about, if it’s him or if it’s that guy who your mom boast’s about with a flush to her cheeks at the work parties he brings him to. that infuriating thought leads him into the thought that maybe he’s who your mom will leave him for, maybe he knows how to be rough with her the way she years so badly for. maybe that guy wouldn’t second guess himself when he’s about to shove his unforgiving cock into her soft body.

the irritating thought spiral makes the vein in his forehead pop and his jaw clench. he moves his eyes up from your arched back and leans down to your ear to breathe heavy into it. his hand subconsciously tightens around your lower face as his jealousy grows, making your brows twitch into a pout briefly in your sleep as one of your hands slides a few inches against the sheets in a jerking reaction.

the build up to this moment happened in twelve frames per second, choppy and fragmented, similar to the way his drunk mind is operating right now. but when nanami finally makes a move, everything turns into a sudden burst of force, like a sneaky wave that slams into the back of your head and pushes you off of your feet and equilibrium as all of your senses turn from serene beach noise to a loud sloshing that fills your ears and lungs.

one mean, rough snap of his lower body, motivated by so many conflicting factors within nanami’s head, and he’s mounted all the way inside of your body.

“biiig stretch,” nanami growls deeply into your ear before sinking his teeth into your neck, eyes rolling into the back of his skull as his toes twitch and his legs push against yours.

4. leave a mark— check. he can feel your soft skin giving in to his teeth, no doubt you’ll be dealing with that reminder for weeks after this. he doesn’t even feel bad when the thought of your mom’s work ‘friend’ seeing the evidence of her very exciting personal life.

everything that happens to your body when he infiltrates happens all at once—your wide eyes shoot open, nostrils flare with a big inhale, back arches, one hand flies behind you to dig your nails into the muscley ass of whatever is penetrating you while the other claws at the hand over your mouth, legs extend straight out, toes curl, and pussy flutters.

if nanami wasn’t so drunk and riled up by his own thoughts, he would absolutely notice the difference in sensations within your cunt. although it’s been more than a while since he’s felt the inside of your mothers body, its agonizingly clear that this one he just forced into feels different. if he didn’t use so much strength initially to slam in, he would have had to practically pry his way in. when his cock head nudged at the little folds where your hymen is located, in less than a split second, mid thrust, he felt a resistance that made him engage more core strength to get past it.

that’s not the only thing thats different, what he’s used to with his girlfriend is a cute, subtle flutter around his cock when he gets inside but, the flesh surrounding him right now is choking his fucking dick every half second like it’s panicking, like it’s crying out that it’s not used to this.

the consistency of these walls are gooey, bumpy like any pussy is, but really the only accurate word to use is gummy. its like he’s being strangled by a sticky gelatin candy that’s alive and breathing. even drunk nanami is surprised by how wet you are inside, its making him think back to when he played with your pussy and wonder if he had lost track of time and done it for longer than he thought because what his cock is used to with your mom is a slightly dry consistency. he knows he hadn’t prepped you that long at all, maybe twenty minutes and you’re gushing as if he’s been fingering you for three hours nonstop.

but even if nanami wasn’t inebriated, his primal instinct to give in to the tight hug of this pussy he’s entered is too strong for logical thinking and it’s much too strong for him to get a better look at who’s actually connected to this cunt.

he briefly detaches his teeth to let out a euphoric ‘ooowh’ as his hand that was holding your pussy lip moves to rest against your lower tummy where he can feel his own fucking bulge inside. he quickly rebinds his teeth into your neck after— an almost subconscious way to cope with your tight body.

now fully awake, you quickly notice the hand over your mouth prohibiting you from gasping and crying out through it the way you need to, the large warmth of a man enveloping the entirety of the back of your body, the sharp teeth locked onto your neck, and the monster cock stretching you out painfully all at once in a way you’ve never felt before.

you immediately start to squirm, rotating from pushing against his hip, hitting at it weakly, and sinking your nails into it to cope with his unyielding presence seated within your cunt, unmoving and forcing you to deal with it.

one of your eyes twitch in sync with your muscles in the hand on his hip when the sharp pain of nanami detaching his teeth from your neck shoots through your nerves.

“good—” nanami hums, basically purring as he laps a slow few licks at the indents, making you shiver and flinch, “—morning.”

the shock subsides enough for you to begin thinking through what the fuck is happening. you’re clearly not in your dorm. the nightstand beside you holds an open scrapbook with your baby pictures, a reminder of when you were looking through it earlier. it all floods back—how you came home to surprise your mother and ended up falling asleep while waiting.

immediately, you assume whoever is behind you is a stranger who broke into her home and you start squirming harder than before, trying to get out of his grasp.

“hey, hey— calm down,” he’s speaking directly into your ear, drawing out the phrase in attempt to soothe you as his hand on your lower tummy begins to rub in comfortingly slow circles, right over his protrusion.

you whimper and try to shake your head harshly as to refuse his request. you’re using your hands to push as hard as you can against his hand on your mouth and his hip, which isn’t very hard since his third arm has rendered you limp and useless. you don’t push his warm hand away from your tummy though, because perverted intruder or not, it actually is easing some discomfort.

5. restrain yourself or her— check. apart from the fact that he’s had a hard hand clamped on your mouth this whole time, he’s quite effortlessly keeping your writhing body restrained against him as well.

“it’s just me, honey,” nanami quickly says, in a reassuring tone with a bit of humor in it and a kiss to your ear. “—your very, very mean, rough boyfriend.”

the way he’s playfully cooing that he’s a mean, rough boyfriend makes you blink and your resisting hands falter a bit. your eyes flick to the dresser: a bottle of expensive cologne, hair gel, designer watch, a plain leather wallet, the large shirt you’re wearing and the XL sweatpants that are sloppily hanging onto your knees.

you realize as quickly as you squeal in horror under his palm that this has to be your moms boyfriend that she obviously never wanted to tell you about. and clearly, she never told nanami about you. or maybe she did, but since you thought it’d be a good idea not to tell her you were coming, you’re now cock warming your mom’s secret boyfriend who thinks you’re her. the butterfly affect in action.

drunk nanami clearly perceives your squeal of horrifying realization as one of excitement because he chuckles and nuzzles the side of your face. “mmmhm— see? this ‘doormat’ of a man can be greedy too,” he lets out a deep slow breath against your face, “played with your— ahem— pussy for twenty minutes before you woke up.”

clearly, your mother had called him a doormat at some point. the way he says ‘pussy’ is like he’s not familiar with the word. it’s obvious he’s trying to make a point by telling you about his twenty minute handling of your cunt, to prove that he’s capable of acting on his own desires, without being mister nice guy and always catering to his girlfriend’s wishes.

panicked by his ‘twenty minute’ confession, you begin to kick weakly at his calves, but you quickly waver in your attempt when it feels good. the both of you groan into each other—you into his palm and he into your ear, your eyes flutter, and your back arches because the kicking inadvertently sparks some deep, oscillating friction of your connected parts.

“fucking god-damnit,” nanami grunts and lets out a deep breath, “you feel so tight, honey. good god.”

your eyes clench shut at his mortifying compliment but your hands pushing at his hip and his hand weaken to a gentle lingering. he’s not even thrusting and you’re already exhausted, growing dizzy even. attempting to cope with intrusion that’s much too large for your smaller body, trying to escape his unfathomable strength, and the emotional turmoil of the situation— it’s all too much for you to continue to resist so adamantly.

nanami is about to whisper into your ear for permission to begin fucking your body with all of his might but he stops himself and huffs, reminding himself of your mothers cruel words before— ‘sometimes a woman just wants to be taken, kento. i want to feel like you desire me so much that you can’t control yourself but you’re too busy asking me for fucking consent!’

your eyes bulge and you cry out under his palm as nanami suddenly launches his hips into a vicious pace with no warning, your ass is rippling and your body is jerking like a fucking doll with every jackhammer. the power behind these ruts would fuck you right off the bed if he wasn’t pushing your lower tummy and face into him. every ram comes with a deep grunt, a drag of his cock against your panicking walls, and a collision to your cervix.

6. thrust roughly— check. ‘fast and hard is the name of the game,’ nanami remembers reading. he’s familiar with soft love making, being attentive of the woman’s every reaction as to be careful and kind. he’s only ever lost a sliver of control when he’s about to cum, unable to hold his harder thrusts back during that time, but it’s never as rough as he’s being right now.

your hands fly out, one dragging on the bed before grabbing at anything within reach while the other is being forced to replace his hand on your lower tunmy before closing his palm on top of yours to keep it there and to steady you.

“can you— shit!— feel that?” nanami growls, his voice unsteady due to the harsh fucking his delivering to you, “this is what you fucking wanted, right?”

you shake your head, hard, with clenched watery eyes, letting out muffled ‘mmm!’s against his hand. despite the fact that you’re shaking your head ‘no,’ answering nanami’s rhetorical question at all only goes to show how fucked out already you are. nanami’s strength behind every single thrust is knocking any sense or logic from your brain.

“let me take you,” nanami breaths out in a quick pant, “let me take you— fuck!— let me take you. give in— shh— give in to me and this fucking cock.”

nanami can hardly believe the words coming out of his own mouth, words he’s only heard when he was a teenager, rolling his eyes at the locker room talk the other boys were engaging in.

the pathetic moan you let strangle out of you and muffle into his palm because of his deprived dirty talk is diabolically immoral. he’s panting and repeating himself like a wild animal, like he’s losing all control as he pries you open and then lets your pussy close up again, over and over and over. it happens so fast, four thrusts in the span of half a second— which you’d think would be too quick to have any power behind it but it does, it’s powerful and it’s swift.

then, every one of your defenses are falling, with no other option or choice, he feels the subtle shift of you pushing your ass into him to meet his hips, the interlocking of your fingers with his on your tummy, and your other hand moving from his on your mouth to the back of his head to rake your nails through his hair. you’ll deal with everything else later, all you can think about now is how to make him wedge deeper so you can get off on his cock.

“god yes,” nanami coos in appreciation, a wave of affection coming over him to join the toe curling pleasure and he finally feels like he’s won you over through your cunt, “there we go, that’s my girl. atta fucking girl— oowh—never felt so goddamn strangled in my life.”

strangling him, you are. he feels it and you can feel it, your pussy is holding onto him like it’s yearning to conjoin your genitals together for eternity.

your eyes roll back as your tits bounce painfully. if you weren’t completely consumed by the most euphoric orgasm of your life—starting in your shaky legs and surging upward until your vision clouds white and your mind blanks—you might notice his shift in tone. the sudden, effortless stream of filthy words spilling from him is a clear sign of his own climax drawing near.

nanami wants to get even deeper when he feels your orgasming cunt squeeze him harder than ever, so he kicks your knee up with his until his leg is nudged between yours and your leg is resting on top of his. you both shudder at how much deeper he’s able to penetrate now. you can feel his swollen balls slap against your overwhelmingly sensitive clit as his grip on your face and tummy turns painful.

“gonna cum,” he grits out directly into your ear before smearing his face into the side of your head like he’s losing control, “‘m gonna blow my fucking load right into your pussy.”

nanami lets out a drawn out, deep disgruntled groan that sounds almost like, ‘wwhuuaah,’ reminiscent of a middle aged man in porn, as his balls rise and begin to twitch in eager preparation. he’s clearly not familiar with the feeling of a twenty two year olds body and moral nanami had never thought about it before anyways.

he sucks in a sharp breath of air with eyes clenched shut before slamming his hips into you once more, all the way up until your flustered cervix and his smiling tip nuzzle together with affection. it’s as if they have a spirit of their own, more than happy to hug and kiss and get familiar with one another in such a sweet way.

when nanami moves his hand away from your mouth, mid jizz, you inhale a large breath of air as if you had been suffocating the entire time. before you can even shout at him to get off of you or not to cum inside of you and then move to the other side of the room and proceed to explain that you are not your mother in a very loud, horrified way as you pull the sweatpants up your shaking legs— you don’t get to do any of that. nanami instead, grips your jaw and yanks you towards his face before sloppily connecting your lips and shoving his tongue all the way into your mouth that at one point, you swear he reached your throat, muffling any shouts you might have had ready.

your eyes are wide as your pupils race back and forth from each of his clenched shut eyes, frozen with your mouth open wide as he tongues it. your free hand that isn’t trapped under his on your tummy falls from his head and spasms mid air as you feel that first aggressive spurt of cum connect to your cooing cervix.

he grunts and groans into your mouth through his orgasm, rocking his hips in a gyration while not pulling out even a little.

suddenly, just when you think it’s all over, you squeal as he slowly but surely pushes you down with his own body weight until you’re flat on your stomach and he’s on top of you, still completely seated inside of you. your mouths disconnect along the way and he falls completely limp against you as the last of his cum spills from him.

you’re gasping for air, aggressively attempting to catch your breath— partly due to his body crushing you and partially because of the absolutely diabolical sex he’s just inflicted on you.

he hisses into your ear as your pussy goes through the involuntary process of pulsing after your orgasm, effectively milking him of the cum he has already given to you. his arms wrap around your midsection and he cuddles into your back.. “wow, fucking wow. that was amazing,” he breathes out as he too attempts to catch his breath, refusing to pull out despite the overstimulation.

nanami is blissfully unaware as he falls into a deep sleep, the only thing on his hazy mind is the happiness that he’s finally shown his ‘girlfriend’ that he can satisfy her.

once you catch your much needed breath, you immediately start to squirm under him as to push him off. you’re completely trapped under him.

“g-get off!” you shout effectively for the first time all night with a scratchy voice, due to all of the moaning and screaming you were doing, “hello? hey asshole! wake up! you’re still— ngh!— inside of me!”

maybe it was the fifth glass of whiskey nanami had drank a few hours ago at the bar with haibara, satoru, suguru, and shoko but he’s already snoring in an old man way that he has no right to be doing at his age of forty. you quickly realize he’s not going to wake up after slapping the man as hard as you can and you go through all the stages of grief until you land on acceptance.

“stupid old man,” you grumble to yourself, a bit bitter about how relaxed your body feels because of the incredible orgasm he’s gifted you. you can’t bring yourself to admit anything past the fact that college boys simply don’t stand a chance in hell after this experience.

you reach around the sheets as much as possible to search for your phone but you can’t find it since it’s somewhere on the floor after being knocked off by nanami’s jackhammering.

you try your hardest to stay awake because imagining your mother coming home to see her boyfriend lying on top of her daughter with his semi hard dick plugging her slippery cunt as they sleep together in her bed sounds more horrifying than if you’re awake when it happens.

but even though you try your hardest to stay awake, a few hours pass and the exhaustion gets to you.

~

when you wake up, that crushing weight on top of you is gone and your sore pussy is empty, though you can still feel that echo of what was once molding the inside.

you cautiously take in the sight of the neatly made bed under you and the sun lit room around it that you grew up identifying as your mom and dads room before rubbing your sleepy eyes harshly. your phone is plugged in on the nightstand beside the clock that reads seven am, and you know for a fact that your mother’s shift ends right about now. that gives you thirty minutes to get the fuck out of her bed.

turning over to lie on your back, you wince at the ache in between your legs. taking a deep breath, you sit up and blink down at your covered legs. you’re wearing a new pair of large sweatpants and the same big shirt that belongs to your moms boyfriend.

you peak into the hem of the sweatpants with a cocked brow and blink at your labia that looks a bit too clean after all the cum that was inserted into it last night.

questioning why the sheets have been somehow changed without waking you up, why your phone is plugged in, l why your sweatpants are changed, or why your pussy is lacking cum is pushed all the way to the back of your mind to keep your priority on getting out of this bed. sure, it seems innocent if your mom comes home and finds you here, likely happy to see you surprise her with your presence, but that happiness won’t last long when she starts questioning where her boyfriend slept if you slept in their bed and all the questions that follow that.

you pull the covers back and stand on jelly legs, wincing once again as your pussy silently cries out. you take your phone and shove it into your pocket and grumble as you limp over to the door. you take a deep breath before peaking your head out and looking both ways down the hall guardedly. the coast seems clear, so you race as quiet as you can over to your childhood room before slipping inside.

you avoid the boxes of paperwork your mom stored in here over the years you’ve been gone and enter the connected bathroom to take a shower. you take the opportunity to find some evidence that you didn’t just dream up a man pummeling into you. you cringe as you stick two fingers inside of your sore, sensitive hole just to be met with strings of cum racing down your knuckles as you hold them in front of your face.

you have no option but to slip back into the same clothes you woke up in. you quickly ruffle up your bed as to make it look like you had slept in it before nodding to yourself and entering the living room.

you halt the second you see the back of a large, neatly gelled blonde man seated at the kitchen island. you remember that blonde hair, but it was much messier when you were scraping your nails through it last night.

the scent of breakfast food is vivid and you can hear the quiet sound of him sipping on something.

you’re frozen, unsure of what to do as you just stand in the archway of the entrance to the kitchen/living room.

nanami’s eyes trail up aimlessly and land on the microwave as he sips his coffee. he does a double take at the reflection of you in it and chokes on the hot liquid before setting it down as to not spill. he almost trips over himself as he stands and faces you, wiping his mouth and clearing his throat after he catches his breath.

you’re expecting an ugly, old man when he faces you since you didn’t get a good look last night, but you’re wrong.

you gulp as you take in how handsome the tall middle aged man is, thin reading glasses on his face and he clearly showered this morning, but he has heavy eye bags that expose his hangover and soft wrinkles that expose his older age. he’s wearing an ironed button up shirt with sleeves rolled up to his elbows, an expensive watch to accentuate his veiny, massive hands, and slacks for bottoms with socks. you immediately get the impression that he doesn’t often wear comfort clothing like the ones you’re wearing of his right now, he’s pristine.

but what catches your eye most is the clear look of guilt on his face and panic brimming just below the surface.

you should feel grossed out by him, but now that you’ve had a very good nights rest after the best orgasm of your life and you’re laying eyes on one of the most beautiful men in town, any anger or discomfort you felt last night has dissipated greatly. you can’t help but let your eyes lag on his clothed cock, which he notices of course, but it only seems to make his mortification grow along with a red blush to his cheeks.

nanami’s taking you in as well, the first thing he notices is the harsh bruising indents of teeth on your neck— his teeth and he immediately wants to repent to a priest. you’re also much smaller than he is, making him mentally curse at himself remembering just how rough he was with you. and of course, he notices how beautiful you are, but in a normal situation where you—a young girl—meets him— an older man— he’d appreciate that you were beautiful for half a second and it would never cross his mind again. but because this isn’t a normal situation at all, your face reminds him of how it felt to hold your mouth closed as he forced himself into your small body, over and over.

a moment passes where you both seem to wait for the other to break the silence. his mouth opens and closes a few times, and your head tilts slightly, watching him with quiet curiosity.

“u-uh hello,” nanami awkwardly greets, clearly unsure of what to do with his hands as they hang on either side of his body, “would you like some.. breakfast?”

nanami’s gaze shifts briefly to the kitchen island before returning to you, prompting you to follow his line of sight. there, three plates of breakfast sit waiting. one is clearly his—half-eaten, with a newspaper folded neatly beside it and a mug that reads, ‘best adoptive dad ever!’ the other two, you assume, are for you and your mother.

you blink at it and then at him before accidentally letting out a snort at the absurdity of the situation, like your mouth had a mind of its own for a second. your hand immediately snaps up to cover your lips as a grimace flickers across nanami’s face, embarrassed with himself for opening the conversation with an offer for bacon, eggs, and pancakes.

nanami mutters a ‘goddamnit’ under his breath, his eyes briefly closing as he tilts his head toward the ceiling, fists clenched at his sides. when he looks back at you, his brows are faintly pinched, his expression heavy with quiet, dutiful sympathy.

“i cannot tell you how sorry i am, i don’t even know what to say—”

“—got any syrup?” you interrupt him casually, walking, well, limping over to the kitchen island where you take a seat in front of one of the plates.

a long beat of silence passes as you take a bite out of the bacon and nanami stands there, stunned.

when you look up at him expectantly, he blinks rapidly, snapping out of his daze. he starts toward the fridge but abruptly changes direction, as if forgetting where things are in his own kitchen. “oh—uh—yes, i believe we do. let me just—” he says, before opening the fridge. his brows knit in concentration as he searches for the syrup.

you watch his tense demeanor with a flicker of an amused twitch to the corner of your lips as you chew, bacon still in hand.

he turns with two options in hand and you hum, considering your options, maybe a bit more leisurely than you should, before you nod at the right one.

he sets the other back into the fridge before placing the one you chose beside your plate, now facing you, standing on the other side of the counter.

you don’t even glance at him as he watches you cautiously, a hint of bafflement in his gaze, like he’s waiting for a pin to drop. instead, you casually pour an obscene amount of syrup onto your pancakes, acting as if last night never happened. the only reminders of his sin are the dark, bruised impressions of his teeth on the side of your neck, the slight limp in your step, and the rag he used to clean your cum stained labia.

his mouth opens and then closes a few times like hes unsure of what to do or say as you take your time eating, all without looking up at him once.

just as he’s about to try speaking again, you look up to gain eye contact and cut him off.

“you fucked me,” you say matter of factly before returning your attention to your pancakes to shove a piece into your mouth and nanami’s face drains of blood, “like, straight up shoved your dick into me while i was sleeping.”

in a regular situation, nanami would never accept this language from a young woman like yourself. but he has to hold himself back from correcting you, you hold all of the cards right now.

“i— i know—” nanami begins with a shaky, terribly serious, apologetic tone but you cut him off again.

“this morning, did you wipe your cum off of my pu—”

now nanami is the one who interrupts you, unable to resist the urge to keep you from saying such a deprived word, “yes— ahem— i did.”

you hum nonchalantly, as if you already assumed so.

a beat of silence.

“and the change of sweatpants?”

he nods and lets out a shaky sigh. “yes, i hope you don’t mind.”

you snicker loudly, which makes his brows furrow in confusion. “you hope i don’t mind if you changed my sweatpants?”

“um— yes,” he says it in a slightly questioning tone, not understanding what you’re getting at.

“i came on your dick and you think i mind if you change my sweatpants?” you laugh, making him blink at you like you’ve just told him he’s terminally ill. nanami hadn’t known what to expect from you, but a young woman who has a dirty mouth that could rival toji’s was not it.

he’s too stunned to tell you that he’s just trying to be polite by saying he hopes you don’t mind, that it’s simply a way of speaking with respect.

another beat of silence as you eat and he manually closes his shocked, parted lips.

“oh, i appreciate the whole foreplay thing, rubbing my clit for— how long did you say?” your brows furrow like you’re thinking back to what he had said last night, “oh yeah, twenty minutes. least you could do before you destroyed my guts— i mean jeez, you’re one strong old man.” you point your fork at him with a snicker when you say the last part.

nanami is surprised he hasn’t collapsed to his knees, his body limp with shock, horror, and utter mortification—every emotion hitting like a theatrical gut punch. your blunt words drive the final nail into the coffin of any fleeting hope that maybe, just maybe, this was all some alcohol-induced nightmare.

he had went in for a good morning kiss upon waking this morning and jumped back with a horror he’s never felt before when he realized the snug warmth he’s buried inside isn’t his girlfriend at all—it’s a much younger woman who bares enough resemblance to her to come to the conclusion that you’re her daughter. the flutter of pleasure when sliding out of your gushy pussy after that realization will haunt him for eternity.

“you know you came inside me, right?” you continue and he isn’t even sure if you had been talking this whole time or not but these words snap him back to reality.

“oh fuck.” nanami’s head spins as his hand flies to clutch his mouth, like he’s about to throw up.

“yeah, oh fuck,” you repeat, chewing and swallowing before a flicker of some kind of realization flashes on your face, “ohhh— you creampied because mom had that hysterectomy, i was wondering why it was so easy for you to just fill me up like that without much thought.”

nanami blinks at you, barely able to process your words and you snort at the flicker of a question on his face when you utter the phrase ‘creampie.’

“damn, how old are you? cream. pie.” you space the words out obviously as to make him connect the dots, “it’s pretty straightforward. you creamed my pie.”

nanami cringes at the phrase and then takes a deep breath, attempting desperately not to pass out.

“a-are you on..?” nanami manages to grit out, pathetically and he feels like a dirty, old man who’s just committed a grave sin that will follow him forever.

you huff a laugh and shrug, “on what?”smiling in utter amusement when his face drops and he braces against the edge of the counter like he’s trying not to fall to the floor with his head tucked down.

you burst out giggling and he looks up at you slowly with slowly blinking eyes as he attempts to make sense of how the fuck it’s funny that he might have just impregnated you.

“i’m fucking with you, old man. i’m on birth control, relax.”

nanami lets out a long sigh of relief with eyes closed before leaning down to rest his elbows on the marble counter with his hands clasped together in front of his face, not in the way someone does when they pray, but more like he’s attempting to cope.

after a long moment of you eating your food pleasantly while nanami’s life and job flashes before his eyes, he gulps at the thought of what comes next and stands up once again. “y-your mother, are you going to—”

before nanami can ask you the terrifying question of if you’re going to tell your mother about this, which he knows you have every right to do so, he’s interrupted by the front door opening.

you mutter a quiet “speak of the devil,” just as the sound of your mother’s keys and the door mask it. nanami straightens up quickly and faces her, his movements so sharp that it’s clear he feels like he’s been caught, even though he’s only standing there while you eat.

“ugh, work was so long,” your mother says as she closes the door, but she pauses mid-sentence, her expression shifting to one of happy surprise as she turns to see you. “honey! oh my! when did you get here?”

you give her a smile back as you stand and give her a hug.

you explain to your mom that you arrived last night, noticing the brief flash of panic on nanami’s face. but as you continue, telling her you fell asleep in your bed, in your old room, waiting for her to come home, nanami visibly relaxes and lets out a quiet, relieved sigh.

your mother’s basically beaming at you, bashfully apologizing for not introducing you to her boyfriend sooner as she guides you to the dinner table. nanami trails behind you both, looking as though he’s lost in a dream. they take their seats side by side across from you.

you brush it off and shrug, making her give you a grateful smile.

you may be skilled at acting nonchalant but nanami has never really had reason to lie in his life, not that he’s even speaking much. he’s pale and stiff, and if he’s not avoiding eye contact with you, he’s staring into your soul as you speak as if to anticipate you exposing what happened between you at any second. your mother notices the odd vibe coming from him and gives him a weird look before returning her gaze to you.

“have you guys met before?”

nanami basically chokes on air, coughing into his hand as he attempts to catch his breath.

“before today, no,” nanami says quickly as he’s still in the midst of clearing his throat, “last night i was just— so tired that i damn near broke the bed— ahem— from, you know, falling into it and going to sleep. so i didn’t have the pleasure of meeting her until this morning.”

your mother blinks at him curiously before you speak up.

“wait,” you blink at him with furrowed concentrated brows, “you do look familiar.. we have met.”

nanami’s eyes flicker wide before moving back and forth from you to your mother and he lets out a deep older man laugh that doesn’t reach his eyes. “huh? no, we haven’t.”

you squint at him like you’re trying to place him before your face lights up, “yeah— wait! haven’t you taught at my school?”

“s-school?” he stutters out loudly, “you’re in highschool?!”

your mother laughs with a confused tilt to her brows as she regards him with a hand to his shoulder, “college, honey. shes too old to be in high school still.”

your mother must not have told him that you existed at all since he didn’t know you were in college. it makes you wonder what he thought your old childhood room was for.

he lets out a huge breath of relief and it’s clear to the two of you that you’re deriving much amusement from making him sweat and he figures he probably deserves it— that, and eternal damnation.

nanami tells himself that if he can just get through today and wait until you’re back on the train to college, he can manage this. but when you smile and casually tell your mom you’re thinking of staying for the entire summer—your eyes discretely flicker to him as you add, “if that’s okay with you guys?”

he feels something good and wholesome weaken inside of his soul as his cock jumps.

“of course you can stay, honey! stay as long as you’d like, right kento?” your mother squeezes his knee in a sweet, wholesome way and his heart drops down to his ass when he feels your socked foot brush against the inside of his calf.

nanami gulps and nods at you, “o-of course— as long as you’d like.”

7. start secretly fucking your girlfriends controversially young daughter all summer long— check.

—

brb gonna act like i’m sleeping so he fucks me too

"it was in 2020" oh so like a year or so ago. a couple years. im sorry 5? did you just say five? five years ago ?

Thirsts~ ♡

My masterlist was getting a bit too long so I decided to make a special post for all the thirsting (ask thirsts included) 🔥

Jujutsu Kaisen

✘ Being Sukuna’s private sex toy and getting fucked by Toji 

✘ Workaholic Nanami and sexting

✘ Workaholic Nanami 2

✘ Getting fucked by the whole dilfs squad 

✘ Choso discovers degrading

✘ Cuddlefucking with Choso

✘ Mutual teasing with Gojo

✘ Getting fucked over the sink while getting ready to go out - multiple characters (you’re free to imagine your fave 😏)

✘ Megumi and hatefucking

✘ Breeding competition

✘ Switch Geto

✘ Possessive boyfie Geto

✘ Geto has a breeding kink

✘ Toji & Geto + throat fucking & sloppy kisses

✘ Toji + corruption kink

Haikyuu!!

✘ Teasing Bokuto 

© do not repost, plagiarize or translate my works on any media platform, such as tiktok, ao3, wattpad etc.

inked

↳ summary: after two weeks apart, Gojo comes home to a surprise—your love, permanently inked into your skin.

→ 𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: gojo satoru x fem!reader

→ 𝐠𝐞𝐧𝐫𝐞: fluff

→ 𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: tattoo mentioned. unprotected soft sex. nothing crazy tbh.

→ 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 2k+

Nerves you hadn’t anticipated began to bubble up, weaving their way through your chest and settling just beneath your skin. They were spurred on by the text sitting on your phone:

“10 minutes out. See you soon. I love you.”

Two weeks. Two long weeks without Gojo Satoru, two weeks in a bed that felt impossibly empty without him sprawling across it. Seeing him again after he’d been away was always exciting—but this time, there was an edge of nervousness that made your hands clammy and your mind spiral with doubts you knew weren’t real.

Your fingers hovered over the soft fabric of your shirt, pressing lightly against your ribs where the new addition to your body lay hidden. It had been an idea you’d toyed with for months, one fueled by Shoko’s persistent reassurances that Gojo would love it, that it was exactly the kind of thing he’d appreciate. Her encouragement had been the final push you needed, convincing you to do it while Gojo was away on one of his longer missions.

You’d planned everything down to the smallest detail, keeping it secret for weeks, and now, as the faint hum of his cursed energy swept through the apartment and the sound of his key turning in the door filled the air, you realized the moment was finally here.

Satoru was nothing if not consistent. The moment he stepped through the door, he dropped his bags unceremoniously by the entrance and came looking for you, the one reason he didn’t mind coming back from a mission, the one reason this place felt like home. You felt his presence before you saw him—a ripple of cursed energy that always seemed to announce his arrival—and then his arms were around your waist, pulling you back against his chest.

His lips found the side of your neck, brushing a soft kiss against the exposed skin just above the neckline of the sweatshirt you wore. His sweatshirt, really.

“Hey, you,” you said softly, a small smile tugging at your lips as your hand moved to rest over his forearm. It was impossible not to smile when Satoru was involved. “Mission go okay?”

“Mhm,” he hummed, his lips trailing lazily up and down your neck, each touch slow and deliberate. “Missed you.”

Your fingers reached back instinctively, tangling in the soft strands of his hair at the nape of his neck. “Missed you too, Satoru,” you murmured, voice warm and steady. “Always.”

He smiled against your neck, his lips brushing just below your ear before pulling back. His hands slid to your hips, gently tugging you, silently asking for you to turn toward him. You didn’t hesitate, shifting to face him, and the second you did, his lips were on yours. The kiss was slow, steady, and all-consuming, reminding you exactly why every long mission, every restless night without him, every aching moment spent apart, was worth it.

It was worth it because Gojo loved you. He loved you in a way you once thought was impossible for someone like him, someone so untouchable, so larger than life. He loved you in a way you never thought possible for yourself, in a way that felt like it had been pulled from a story, something too good to be real.

But it was real. Gojo loved you deeply, with everything he was. He loved you with an intensity that could both quiet the noise of the world and fill it with endless laughter. It seeped into the cracks of your life, filling spaces you hadn’t realized were empty. He loved you loudly, in ways that made your heart race, but also quietly, in the moments when his care spoke louder than words.

Gojo loved with a kind of intensity that could make your head spin, unrelenting and unapologetic. He wasn’t subtle—subtlety wasn’t in his nature. He’d pull you into his arms without warning, spinning you around just to hear you laugh, or press endless kisses to your face while you half-heartedly swatted at him, knowing it would only encourage him.

He’d take every opportunity to be close to you, tangling himself around you on the couch during movie nights, even if it meant he barely watched the screen. Sometimes, he’d lean in far too close while you were in the middle of a task, resting his chin on your shoulder and grinning as he distracted you with some ridiculous joke or a kiss just behind your ear. Satoru loved loudly, with every part of him. It was in the way he intertwined your lives so completely that it was impossible to tell where his affection stopped and your happiness began. He never gave halfway—it was always all or nothing, and with you, it was always all. Being loved by Gojo meant being smothered in warmth, in laughter, in his ever-present need to remind you, in a thousand ways, that you were his whole world.

Gojo’s hands slipped under your sweatshirt, his touch warm and unhurried as his lips captured yours in a kiss that left no space for doubt or hesitation. His fingers brushed against your skin as he pushed the fabric higher, pausing just long enough for you to pull back and let him tug it over your head, tossing it carelessly onto the floor.

His mouth found your neck again, hot and deliberate, his hands steady as he guided you onto his lap at the edge of the bed, your legs wrapping around him like it was second nature. His fingers ghosted over your skin, tracing up your sides, brushing over your back, and then gliding back down in a rhythm that made your breath catch. His lips moved lower, trailing over your collarbone, leaving gentle nips that sent a shiver down your spine.

“I… did something,” you murmured, your voice soft as your hand combed through his snowy hair. His lips stilled, and he pulled back, blue eyes locking onto yours, curious and patient.

“For me?” he asked, his voice tinged with playful disbelief, though his expression softened as he searched your face. Gojo could wait forever when it came to you—especially when you were perched on his lap, his hands steady on your thighs, your cheeks flushed in a way that made his heart stutter.

You nodded, taking a breath, but instead of standing up or moving away, you shifted slightly, your fingers drifting to your ribs. Gojo’s gaze followed, and his playful smirk faded the moment he saw it—the delicate ink etched into your skin, just beneath your breast.

Gojo shifted forward, his hand hovering hesitantly before his fingertips brushed the delicate addition to your skin. The touch was so light you almost didn’t feel it, but then he did it again, this time with a little more pressure, as if grounding himself in the reality of what he was seeing. His other arm curled securely around your waist, pulling you close as his eyes focused on the small, black script etched into your ribs.

Just two lowercase letters—that was all. A single lowercase g and a single lowercase s. Simple, yet it was so much more than that. It was for him, a tattoo for him, because of your love for him. Or maybe, really, because of his love for you. No one loved you like Gojo Satoru did. It was the kind of love that made you believe it couldn’t have been an accident. You were certain you’d loved him in lifetimes past, and you’d love him again in lifetimes to come, because no one could love like this without practice.

His breath caught, and for once, he was speechless. His hand reached out, tentative and reverent, as his fingertips brushed over the tattoo again, slower this time. He didn’t say anything for a long moment, his wide-eyed wonder making your chest tighten.

“You…” he finally started, his voice soft and unsteady in a way you rarely heard. “You did this… for me?”

You nodded, the movement small and almost hesitant, your eyes searching his face for a reaction. His breath caught again, and his hand, still resting lightly on your waist, tightened just slightly, as if anchoring himself.

Gojo’s gaze dropped back to the tattoo, his fingertips brushing over the ink with a reverence that made your chest ache. He didn’t speak again for a long moment, his wide-eyed wonder making it clear that, for once, the words weren’t coming easily. Instead, he traced the delicate letters over and over, his touch warm and deliberate, like he was trying to etch the memory into himself as deeply as the ink was etched into your skin.

“I love you too,” he said finally, his voice low and uncharacteristically soft.

Too because that’s what this told him so clearly, without a single word spoken. Too because you’d marked yourself with his initials, a permanent reminder that no one else could ever hold your heart, though he’d always known that to be true. Too because no one had ever loved him as effortlessly or as completely as you did, and Gojo was determined to make sure you knew how deeply he cherished the way you loved him.

Gojo’s eyes lingered on the tattoo, his fingers tracing the delicate letters like he was trying to memorize every curve and line. Then, without a word, he leaned in and kissed you, soft and deliberate, pouring all his unspoken gratitude into the connection.

You kissed him back, your hands cradling his face as his arm tightened around your waist, pulling you impossibly closer. It wasn’t until your fingertips brushed his cheek that you noticed the dampness there. Slowly, you pulled back, your breath catching at the sight of a tear sliding down his face.

A tender smile tugged at your lips as you brought your thumb to his cheek, brushing the tear away gently. “Baby,” you whispered, the word filled with so much warmth it made his breath hitch.

He let out a soft, shaky laugh, leaning into your touch, his hand still firm on your waist. “I love you,” he murmured, his voice low but steady, full of meaning. “So much.”

You pressed a kiss to his forehead before his lips found yours again, this time with more urgency. The kiss was deeper now, his grip on your waist tightening as you shifted in his lap. When your hips rolled against his, a low groan escaped him, muffled against your mouth, his hand pressing you down, encouraging the movement.

Gojo didn’t just love you—he showed you in every touch, every kiss, and every quiet moment. It was overwhelming, consuming, and so uniquely him, leaving no room for doubt that you were his everything.

Gojo’s lips trailed along your jaw, down your neck, and across your collarbone, unhurried and deliberate. He was never one to rush moments like this, savoring every touch, every kiss, every second he could have with you. His mouth moved lower, pressing soft kisses over your chest until he reached the tattoo. His fingers brushed against the ink as his lips hovered over it, and he mumbled something, his voice low and nearly inaudible.

You caught fragments—half-formed “I love you’s” that spilled out like they were too big to stay trapped in his chest. His lips pressed to the tattoo once, then again, and again, as if he was trying to make his love sink deeper into your skin, becoming another part of you.

“I need you, baby,” you murmured, your fingers threading through his soft hair as you gently pulled him back, reminding him that you were still in his lap, ready for more than just his kisses.

His lips curved into a smile against your skin before he looked up, his eyes locking onto yours with an intensity that made your breath hitch. “I need you too,” he whispered, his voice rough and full of want.

You fumbled with your clothes together, hands reluctant to leave each other’s skin even as you tried to shed the layers between you. When you finally managed, Gojo pulled you back into his lap immediately, his hands finding your hips as though they belonged there. His lips were back on your neck, his fingers gently kneading your skin as he whispered, “I love you,” against your shoulder, over and over, like a mantra.

His hands guided you as you placed yours on his shoulders, lifting yourself just enough to let him align with you. His breath caught as you slowly sank down, your hips meeting his in a motion so deliberate it made his eyes flutter shut. For a moment, he didn’t move, letting himself feel everything—the warmth of your skin, the way you fit so perfectly with him, and the overwhelming love that seemed to buzz in the air between you.

When his eyes opened again, they met yours, pupils blown and lips parted, every ounce of his love for you written across his face. “You’re mine,” he whispered, his hands tightening on your hips, grounding himself in you as you both began to move together.

Gojo’s hands gripped your hips firmly, guiding you in a slow, deliberate rhythm on his lap. His touch was strong but teasing, pulling you forward, then pressing you back, encouraging you to move exactly the way he wanted. His mouth was relentless, leaving a trail of hot, open-mouthed kisses everywhere he could reach.

His lips found yours first, the kiss deep and dizzying, stealing the breath from your lungs before he moved to your neck. His tongue and teeth grazed the sensitive skin there, pulling soft, broken moans from you that he drank up like they were his favorite sound. “That’s it, baby,” he murmured against your skin, his voice low and dripping with satisfaction.

He kissed lower, his lips brushing across your collarbones, lingering there in a way that made your head tilt back, your hands tugging at the hair at the nape of his neck. His groan vibrated against your skin, his hands starting to wander, no longer content to stay still.

His fingers skimmed over your thighs, kneading the soft flesh before sliding up your hips, pressing into your skin as if trying to leave a mark. They trailed to the small of your back, where his touch had you gasping and arching into him, then down your arms, brushing over your wrists and tangling with your hands in his hair.

“God, you feel so good,” he whispered, his tone rough and needy as his lips returned to yours, claiming you in another kiss that left no doubt about what he wanted.

All you could feel was him—his touch, his lips, the heat of his body pressed against yours—and all he seemed to want was more of you. The way he whispered your name, the way his hands gripped and slid over your skin, told you he wasn’t going to stop until every inch of you was his tonight.

“I love you, Satoru,” you whispered, your voice catching as his lips brushed the shell of your ear, sending a shiver down your spine that he undoubtedly felt.

His head dipped lower, his lips trailing over your skin until they found the tattoo that had already become his favorite part of you. He kissed it softly, reverently, like it was a sacred promise made just for him.

You didn’t have to say you loved him again—not in this lifetime. It was there, inked into your skin, a mark that said it all. It was a message for him and him alone, a declaration that your love was as endless as his, something he would carry with him forever.

His hands slid over your body, one brushing against the tattoo as if grounding himself in the reality of it, the other slipping between your bodies. His touch was slow but deliberate, fingers teasing until they coaxed a gasp from your lips. His lips returned to your neck, murmuring soft words about how beautiful you were, how perfect, how much he loved you.

“Satoru,” you moaned, your fingers gripping his shoulders as his movements sent you spiraling. You felt the tension building in his body, the way he was unraveling with you, and the realization only heightened your own release. His name tumbled from your lips like a prayer as he whispered yours against your skin, his voice low and breathless, grounding you both in this moment.

When it was over, you collapsed against him, your face pressed into the crook of his neck as you caught your breath. His arms wrapped around your waist, holding you close as though he couldn’t bear to let you go.

“I love you,” he murmured, his voice softer now, his lips brushing against your temple.

“I love you so much, Satoru,” you replied, your voice steady, filled with the weight of your emotions.

“I know,” he said, his tone serious but tender. It wasn’t arrogance—it was certainty. He understood the weight behind the two small letters forever etched into your skin. He knew this wasn’t a fleeting love or the kind you’d given to anyone before him.

Your love was his anchor, a safe harbor he could return to no matter what storms came his way. It was a promise, a forever mark that would hold him together when the world threatened to pull him apart.

And in return, Gojo Satoru loved you in every way he could—with his words, his touch, his whole being—but most of all, he loved the way you loved him.

𖧹katsuki bakugou x fem reader

𖧹smut; katsuki makes you record him eating you out.

𖧹1.0k

𖧹mdni

“just like that” he says, red eyes glancing at the phone in your hand, the camera pulled up as you zoom in on the way his lips ghost over your cunt. “make sure you hold it still."

he's scheduled for a two week long mission out of the country and he needs something to tie him over.

you try— really try to keep the camera steady, but the first swipe of his tongue through your slick folds has you gasping, your entire body jolting as the camera tilts upward, catching only the crown of his spiky blonde hair. his tongue is hot, firm, and deliberate as it drags from your entrance to your clit, circling it just enough to tease but not enough to satisfy.

"fuck," you breathe, scrambling to fix the angle. you bring the phone down, focusing on his sharp jaw and the way it moves as he devours you, his lips wrapping around your clit to suck softly. you can barely suppress the moan that builds in your throat, your head pressing back into the pillow as your chest heaves.

katsuki doesn't let up, his tongue swirling around your sensitive nub with maddening precision. the lewd sounds of his mouth- wet, sticky, and unrelenting-are captured perfectly by the microphone, the obscene audio only adding to your growing arousal.

you’re so lost in the pleasure that you forget what you’re supposed to be doing, letting the phone in your hand drop until nothing but darkness can be seen.

his mouth pulls away with an audible pop, and your hazy eyes snap open at the sudden loss of contact. his brow furrows, a sharp growl rumbling from his chest. "don't make me fucking repeat myself," he snaps, his voice gruff and commanding, but the fire in his gaze betrays just how much he's enjoying watching you squirm.

he reaches up, gripping your wrist with his calloused fingers to guide your hand—and the phone— back to where he wants it. "hold it steady, or i'll make you start all over."

you whimper softly at his words, the threat sending a shiver down your spine. his eyes flash with mischief as he watches you struggle to comply, your hand trembling with the effort to keep the camera on him.

"good," he mutters, dipping his head back down between your thighs. "now don't fuck it up again."

his tongue returns to your clit, flicking and swirling and sucking with a precision that has your thighs threatening to clamp tightly around his head. his blonde hair tickles your inner thighs and the phone shakes slightly.

"katsuki," you moan, your voice high-pitched and breathless. he growls in response, his eyes snapping up to meet yours through the lens of the phone. the intensity in his gaze sends a shiver down your spine, heat pooling low in your belly. you look away.

"look at me," he commands, pulling back just enough to catch his breath. his lips are glistening, his face slick with your arousal as he nips at your inner thigh. "i want you to see this. I want you to remember who makes you fall apart like this when I'm gone."

his possessiveness ignites something inside you, and you nod weakly, barely able to process his words as his tongue returns to its assault. he's ruthless now, his movements faster and more deliberate, his lips and tongue working in tandem to push you closer to the edge. the knot in your stomach tightens, your legs beginning to shake as pleasure consumes you.

he chuckles against your core, the vibrations only adding to the unbearable pleasure. the wet sounds of his mouth working your over are obscene, loud enough to be caught on the recording. you can barely focus on keeping your composure, let alone holding the phone steady.

"you close, baby?" he asks, his voice muffled as he sucks your clit into his mouth. "I can feel you shaking. come on, let it go. let me hear those pretty fucking sounds as you cum on my tongue."

his words are your undoing. your back arches off the bed, your mouth falling open in a silent scream as your climax crashes over you. the phone trembles in your hand, your grip faltering as waves of pleasure roll through you. he doesn't stop, his tongue continuing to lap at you, dragging out your orgasm until you're left a trembling, gasping mess.

when he finally pulls away, his lips are curved into a smug grin, face coated in your arousal and he couldn't look happier. "good girl," he praises, his voice low and husky. he takes the phone from your weak grip, tapping the screen to review the footage with a satisfied hum. "this'll keep me entertained while I'm gone."

you collapse back onto the bed, utterly spent, chest heaving as you catch your breath. katsuki sets the phone on the nightstand, crawling up your body until his lips hover over yours. he kisses you deeply, letting you taste yourself on his tongue, before pulling back just enough to whisper against your mouth.

"don't think we're done yet," he murmurs, his tone dark and teasing. "i've got a whole week to make up for. might as well record me fucking that tight little pussy next."

his words make your breath hitch, and you can't help the shiver that runs through you as he smirks, his hands already roaming your body in preparation for round two.

soooo many of the bllk guys